Prompt: Please write the flower shop/ tattoo artist AU pls pls plssss
Seven o'clock. Closing time. Erik whistled as he marched through the rows of flowers, adjusting apetal here and there, adding a touch of water to this one and a dash of fertilizer to that one. And then, after a final tally of that day's sales, he wiped his soil-caked hands on his apron and fished around in his pocket for the key. And fished some more. Frustrated, he waves his hands around the store, searching for the telltale trace of metal. A couple of flower-refrigerator doors with metal handles opened, and the cash register shuddered, but no keys came flying at him. He shut the fridges with an impatient wave and groaned. Not again.
Mag-neat-o Flowers wasn't in the greatest part of town, so there was no way Erik was going to leave it unlocked all night. Realizing what he was going to have to do, he sighed. With one final glance around the store, he shouldered his bag and slipped out the door to visit the neighbor with the spare key.
It was closing time for Mag-neat-o Flowers, but for X Tattoos, the tattoo parlor next door, the night was just beginning. Erik blinked rapidly to protect his eyes from the flashing neon signs and entered the store.
A bell clanged as the door slammed shut behind him. Erik waved a hand in front of his face, trying to clear away the smoke and find his way to the counter. He'd only met the owner once before, when he had come to give him the spare key ("I never like to be too careful," he had explained, looking around nervously). He had noticed right away that the owner was attractive, but he had been too nervous to stay for long. Now here the owner was again, with his little nametag that introduced him as Charles X, sitting behind the counter, completely focused on sketching a design on a torn napkin. And Erik couldn't help but realize just how attractive he was.
He swallowed nervously as he approached the counter. "Um, excuse me?"
Charles didn't seem to hear him. He cocked his head and looked at his sketch from a different angle, his brilliant blue eyes narrowed and his mouth set. Erik reached the counter and peeked at the drawing. It was simple – a large, styled X. "Is that a design for your awning?"
Charles' head snapped up. "What? Who – what?"
"I'm sorry," Erik spluttered. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"No worries, mate," Charles said, his shoulders relaxing. "You look more startled than I do, honestly. What is a guy like you doing in a place like this?"
"I'm…um, I'm Erik – from next door. Mag-neat-o Flowers. I visited a few months ago. I gave you a spare key in case something happened to mine. I, um, I seem to have lost mine. Do you…?"
Charles' eyes widened. "You trusted me with that? You must've gotten a much better impression of me than the normal bloke." He stared at Erik for a moment too long, as though he was searching for something. "Oh, yes. That's what you thought of me. Interesting."
"Sorry, what?" Erik blushed. If this man somehow knew how attractive Erik thought he was….
Charles laughed. "Don't worry about it. Let me just, ah – " He squeezed his eyes shut. Erik watched his eyes race back and forth under his eyelids. After a minute, he opened his eyes. "Oh yes. I knew I had stored that away somewhere. Come to the back with me, will you?"
"Sure." Erik twisted his fingers together nervously, his eyes scanning Charles' lean figure as he stood up and walked away. Tattoos swirled up and down his muscular arms, tracing over his veins and disappearing into the rolled-up sleeves of his coal-black shirt. A splash of red ink poked out of his collar, slid up the back of his neck, and vanished under his hair.
The back room was covered in papers, receipts, sketches, bottles of ink, pictures – even some half-eaten cups of vanilla pudding. "It's my favorite," Charles explained.
Erik stared at the mess. "Um, do you know where the key is?"
"Yeah, I do. But I don't want to rummage through the stuff. Why don't you just grab it for me?" His eyes were sparkling and Erik couldn't keep his eyes off them – which didn't help his nerves at all.
Erik rubbed his sweaty hands against his pant legs. "I don't…what?"
"Relax, man. I know. Just do some metal magic – summon it – do whatever. Let me see your mutation. It's gotta be pretty sweet."
Erik opened his mouth, but Charles cut him off. "No use denying it, I can hear everything you're thinking." He brought two fingers to his temple and winked. "I've got a few tricks of my own."
"Y-you're like me? You can – read minds?" Erik stammered. He'd only ever met a handful of other mutants in his life, but still, the only thing he could think of – "Which means…that means you know…."
One corner of Charles' mouth curled up. "Which means I know what you've been thinking about me."
"That's so embarrassing. I'm so sorry. I'm just…I'm just going to take my key and go." He waved his hand, caught the key in mid-air, and backed toward the exit, slamming his back into the doorframe, giggling nervously, and then rerouting so he could back successfully out through the door. "Sorry," he repeated, his face bright red. "I've gotta – um – flowers – and such."
Wait – Erik, right?
Erik froze and shrieked, the key falling to the floor. "Oh my god. Your voice – I just heard your voice – in my head – "
Charles popped out of the back room, his own face flushed. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. That – the voice-in-the-head thing – that's part of my…talent." He stooped to pick up the key, holding it out.
Erik forgot his embarrassment and stared at Charles, ignoring the key. "That's incredible."
Charles' blush deepened. "You think so?"
"Well, yes! That's…wow." He paused, then awkwardly took the key from Charles' outstretched palm.
They locked eyes for another moment. Then Charles coughed. "How would you feel about getting a drink with me? I can lock up early, and now that you've got your key, we can lock up your – "
"Yes!" Erik interrupted. "Oh, sorry. Uh, yes. That'd be…nice."
Charles' face lit up with a broad grin. "Great! Great. Okay," he said, gesturing Erik forward. "After you."