Warnings: A teeny bit of coarse language.

Children of Misfortune

Set after NQK begins tormenting Kurama with puns

"The Language of Flowers"

"Hello, Minamino. Can I trouble you a moment?"

Kurama looked up with an automatic half-smile, polite and cool as always. I'd found him lurking in the greenhouse, just where I suspected to find the wily fox. I trotted to the work table where he sat potting seedlings in a long planter. He took off his gloves and folded his hands atop his knee, legs crossing at the thigh.

"Yukimura," he intoned in his rich, musical voice. "You're never any trouble." A twitching lip telegraphed that that was most definitely a lie. I got the feeling he let me see the truth on purpose. "What brings you here?"

Lifting a hand, I traced my finger down the leaf of a seedling. Kurama's eyes—a green so rich they put jealousy itself to shame—fastened tight on my face. It wasn't often I approached him in the greenhouse. I waited for him to come to lunch, or found him after class. Figured I should let the greenhouse be his sanctuary from my shenanigans.

Not today, though.

Today my shenanigans were very much in need of a certain fox's expertise.

"You employ a certain set of skills," I said, keeping my words careful and quiet. "Today I find said skills most useful." A humble, supplicating bow. "May I request a moment of your time for a consultation?"

He lifted a brow. "My, my. So formal. How can I be of assistance?"

I cracked a crooked smile. "Well…I got into a fight."

His reply was as smooth as it was teasing. "If you're asking for an alibi, I'm afraid I am fresh out. Can I interest you in a stern condemnation of violence, instead?

"Nah. No, thanks. I'm sure my mother will do that later." I turned and gestured at the flowers adorning the planters like jewels. "I'd like to send my opponent a bouquet."

His brow lifted. "Making amends. How mature of you."

"And I'd like this bouquet to express certain thoughts and feelings I currently harbor." I smiled my most chipper, Keiko-at-school smile, all soft warmth and innocently fluttering eyelashes. "You know. Using the language of flowers to communicate?"

"I see." His eyes glittered, seemingly pleased. "I would be happy to help. The language of flowers is regrettably underappreciated."

"Great!" I chirped. Score for Not-Quite-Keiko!

"Now, to business." He leaned forward. "What, exactly, do you want the bouquet to say?"

Ah. Now we reached the difficult bit. I scratched the back of my neck and avoided eye contact. "We-ell…"

His smile vanished. "The sense of trepidation rising in my chest indicates you're up to something."

"Who, me?" I put a hand to my chest in mock offense. "I don't know why you'd say that. I'm hurt!"

His stare had teeth like a Venus flytrap. "Yukimura..."

We exchanged a long, loaded look. He won the contest of wills most handily. I dropped my head and kicked a toe at the concrete floor.

I muttered: "…I want to know how to passive-aggressively say 'fuck you' in flowers, OK?"

Kurama stared at me a moment. Then, movements delicate, he placed his face squarely in the palms of his hands.

"…so you don't want to help, huh?" I observed.

Voice muffled, he replied, "I didn't say that."

"Not verbally," I said. "But I mean, the whole head-in-hands things…"

"I was merely shocked to hear such a request from you." With a flex of lithe muscle he rose to his feet, as silent as an assassin. "You're normally so docile."

I got the sense he was being ironic, but he'd arranged his features in a mask so pleasantly expressionless I was at a loss to say for certain. He breezed past me and through the rows of blooming plants without another word on the subject. Snagging a pair of shears off a table, he approached a planter and deftly clipped a trio of orange flowers from the parent plant.

"Geraniums, for stupidity," he intoned. Another planter, another snip-snip-snip, on and on down the line. "Meadowsweet, for uselessness. Yellow carnations, for disappointment. Orange lilies, for hatred." He turned to me with a veritable riot of flowers cradled in his elbow. This time he allowed a touch of amusement to curl his lip, eyes glimmering with sardonic humor. "Will these convey your intentions, I wonder?"

I smiled back, with the same devious tint. "Most definitely. Thank you so much." I smirked, tossing my hair with a laugh. "I'm sure my 'friend' will love them."

That got a chuckle out of Kurama. He walked to a bench at the front of the greenhouse and pulled a sheet of old newspaper from a bin. "Happy to help."

My brow shot up. "Really?" I asked as he bundled the flowers in the newspaper and tied them up with a bit of twine.

"Of course." He turned to me and bowed, presenting the finished bouquet atop his flat palms. "Assisting you has been the highlight of my day."

Something in his tone told me there was more on his mind, like perhaps he was amused by me, but maybe that wasn't all. Reaching for the flowers, I rolled my eyes and voiced a snarky, "…ri-ight."

Kurama's pleasant smile didn't waver. I stared at him with palpable suspicion, but as my hands closed around the bouquet, a planter brimming with purple blossoms caught my eye. Took a second to realize was I was looking at, but when I did, a wicked thrill coursed up my spine. Smirking, I remembered days spent in my Grandmother's greenhouse, and I recalled the name of the bell-like flowers adorning the slender, upright stalks behind Kurama's unknowing back.

Oh. This would be good.

Catching Kurama's eye, I said, "I think you forgot a flower, though. And it'd make this bouquet really pop."

Kurama frowned with obvious skepticism and displeasure. Clearly he was not accustomed to being wrong about plants. I walked past him and, taking up the shears he'd left on the table, snipped a sprig of the plant I'd spotted. Kurama approached and stood at my elbow, still frowning.

"I did a little research before I came here," I said. I lifted the sprig and, giggling, tapped the blossoms against his nose. He pulled back with wide eyes, blinking at my playful gesture. "The English name for these is 'foxglove', and they stand for insincerity. Fitting, all things considered." I turned, tucking the foxglove into the bouquet with a conspiratorial wink. "See ya later, Minamino."

I was out the door and halfway across the lawn toward the school by the time I heard the greenhouse door open at my back. Kurama's voice drifted across the grass like the scent of pine borne on a lazy wind.

"One day," he said in a voice of dangerous, velvet certainty, "you and I are going to have a conversation."

I tossed a grin over my shoulder. He met it with a glower—but I saw the smirk tugging at his lips.

"I'm sure we will," I called back.

"It's a promise," he said.

"Neat. I'll hold you to it!"

To that, at least, he did not reply—not that day, anyway.

A week later I found a sprig of blossoms in my shoe locker, pink and white and clinging in bunches to a twig clipped by careful hands. Their scent clung to my clothes, and at lunch, Kurama met my eyes with a bold smirk.

These were plum blossoms, a book from the library informed me.

In the language of flowers they meant, "I keep my promises."

NOTES:

Ikara-O-Kage inspired this while we were chatting about a recent Tumblr post on this subject. Many thanks to her (and that Tumblr post) for teaching me to say "fuck you" with flowers!

I imagine that NQK and Kurama will later start leaving each other flowers in odd places, to passive-aggressively communicate words neither wants to speak. Maybe that'll make it into the main story. We'll see!

This took me about half an hour to write; figured I'd give y'all a small Kurama moment during my month's hiatus. Novel is going…slowly. VERY SLOWLY. But it's still coming along. Miss LC very much and can't wait to come back! Many thanks to all who read this!