the language of love and flowers

by amukWrites

Mitsuru knew the language of flowers, the secrets plants liked to whisper about their owners. What she didn't know, however, was the language of love, especially when a cynical doctor stepped into her flower shop.

Title: the language of love and flowers

A/N: For the Love in Lavender ShinoMitsu zine! Finally, I too have written a flowershop au.

Summary: Mitsuru knew the language of flowers, the secrets plants liked to whisper about their owners. What she didn't know, however, was the language of love, especially when a cynical doctor stepped into her flower shop.

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i. craspedia

Mitsuri had never been one for routines. Those had been for her more serious friends, her college classmates with colour-coded binders and agendas planned till the holidays. It had been cute, watching them repeat the same steps day after day, but it's just not for her. There was something restraining about a daily ritual, and she did not love it as much as she loved spontaneity.

Or so she'd thought till now. At twenty-eight, there was a sense of security in opening her shop at the same time every day, stability in repeating the same actions like clockwork. Mitsuri hummed softly as she swept the shop floor, relishing in the familiarity of it all. Other small stores came and went, but hers would stay.

She ran through her daily checklist. The vases were lined up by levels of love, check. Her bouquet table had scissors, wrapping paper, and enough ribbon to reach Pluto, check. The backroom was firmly closed, so no stray animal or person wandered in, check. A woman was crouched in front of the flowers outside, check. The watering—

A strange woman? Mitsuri froze. Quickly, she reopened her shop door, ignoring the ringing bell as she poked her head outside. There, crouching in front of the potted plants, was a woman with a butterfly hair clip. Her purple-tinted, short black hair framed her face. She pushed back a stray lock as she leaned closer to a bunch of sweet peas, closing her eyes as she breathed in their delicate scent. In the morning sun, she looked almost ethereal.

"Beautiful," Mitsuri mumbled unconsciously.

Noticing her, the woman looked up, her intelligent black eyes locking with Mitsuri's. Immediately, Mitsuri flushed—had she really said that aloud? What would this woman think of her? Mortified, she recanted, "I—"

"Yes, your flowers are really beautiful." The woman stood now, revealing a height that was at least a foot shorter than Mitsuri's.

Cute, Mitsuri thought, clamping her mouth shut before she made yet another embarrassing mistake. She was lucky the stranger had mistaken her words once, having It happen twice was pushing it. It was hard, though; she wanted to say so many things. The woman's butterfly earrings were adorable. Her tight-fitting red sweater and black dress pants were suave.

As loath as she was to admit it, Mitsuri had always known that her clients would be her doom. All of her customers were so lovable, and she wanted to fawn over them. The problem was that they didn't always want to hear it, and she'd never known what was worse: the creeped-out customers or the ones she couldn't face anymore. Resisting the urge to make yet another customer disappear, Mitsuri bit her cheek and replied, "The secret ingredient is love!"

Immediately, she flushed a bright red. After trying to curb her tongue, she had to say that out loud. Yet another customer she couldn't look in the eyes anymore, the memories of this moment haunting her—

Laughter interrupted her thoughts, and Mitsuri blinked at the sight of the woman chuckling. Noticing her stare, the woman smiled. "My parents say the same thing about their cooking, but I've never understood it. There's nothing scientific about it."

"It takes more than water and fertilizer to take care of them." Mitsuri automatically replied, reaching out to stroke the petals of a particularly big hibiscus flower. "Just like people, even plants respond to love."

"If you say so." The woman sounded utterly unconvinced. "Anyways, I need a bouquet for a patient of mine."

"A patient?" Mitsuri glanced at the woman's arm, at the white lab coat draped over it. Clapping her hands, she guessed, "You're a doctor?"

"At the hospital down the street." The woman glanced at the plants around her. "Anything here that's good for a kid?"

"A kid." Resisting the urge to run to the hospital and hug the poor child, Mitsuri glanced around at the flowers near her before walking over to the craspedias. The bright yellow balls were fun and lively, and she plucked several as the base for her bouquet. "These are for good health."

"Good health?" The woman arched a finely shaped brow.

"That's what they mean, in the language of flowers." Mitsuri gathered flowers as she spoke, weaving together a bright, cheerful bundle. The kind of bouquet a kid couldn't take their eyes off.

"I see." Instead of looking impressed, she looked amused. "I don't think a lot of people care about that."

There was no winning with this customer. Mitsuri puffed her cheeks as she headed to the cashier. "I do."

"That's case in point," the woman replied dryly, pulling out her wallet. It was also butterfly-shaped and Mitsuri entirely forgot her anger the second she saw the woman's name on her credit card. Shinobu Kocho. Kocho. Butterfly.

Suddenly, her hair clip, her necklace, earrings, wallet, and who knew what else made sense. For a woman who acted so practical, she had based her entire look off her last name and it was the cutest thing Mitsuri had ever seen.

"Your name is Kocho! I love that!" Mitsuri gushed as she handed over the bouquet.

Instead of looking pleased, Shinobu pursed her lips, her skin flushing lightly as she quickly left the shop. She would probably never return, which was too bad. Mitsuri had never seen anyone so adorable before.

ii. Carnation

Mitsuri's favourite time of day was the afternoon, when the sunlight hit her vases just so and left colourful patterns on the floor. She hopped along the tiles as she inspected her plants, checking for any old flowers and cleaning their dusty leaves.

As she inspected a fern, she murmured, "Your leaves are looking healthy today, honey."

Some people would say that there was no point in talking to flowers. That they couldn't hear her, and it was utterly unscientific to do so. Mitsuri would reply that everything needed love to grow and they always responded to her praise. Sure, the fern didn't reply, but it perked up slightly in response, and that wouldn't have been her imagination.

"You're all so pretty," she complimented the rose cuttings, lined up in bright, colourful plastic buckets. "Anyone would be lucky to take you home." If roses could blush, she was certain these would. She leaned forward to pet one of the blooms. "I'll make sure of it."

"I can take a few off your hands, if you want."

Mitsuri chuckled, trying not to laugh too hard. "Flowers can't buy flowers."

"Can people buy them then?"

"People—" Mitsuri froze. That wasn't the sound of a plant. Not that a plant could make a sound, all things considered, and maybe she should have realized that the second one talked to her. Slowly, she turned around to find Shinobu, her lips twitching from laughter.

"This is still a flower shop, right?" It was impressive, in all honesty, how her tone remained even despite her quirked lips or her raised brow. Still, her mirth was very apparent and Mitsuri flushed.

Oh god, someone had heard her. She would never live it down. She'd have to move to another country, dye her pink and green locks, and pray no one asked any questions. Her skin burned and Mitsuri immediately dropped her broom. "A-another patient?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Yep, I'm full of them." Shinobu smirked. Mitsuri knew she hadn't imagined the teasing lilt behind her voice and, the sound that made her heart do funny things. "And your last bouquet was surprisingly popular, so…"

"Oh!" Mitsuri clasped her hands, leaning closer. "Are they feeling better now?"

Unnerved, Shinobu took a step back and nodded. "As much as can be expected."

"Oh great!" Mitsuri bounced on her heels, a bubbling warmth spreading through her. Pumping her fists, she asked, "Who's this one for?"

"An older woman," Shinobu replied, her head bobbing slightly as she followed Mitsuri's movements. Wryly, she commented, "You're pretty eager."

"Of course!" Mitsuri hummed as she left the roses—there were far better flowers for an elderly woman. Not that roses weren't lovely, of course. She glanced at the sweet-smelling jasmine before settling for the cheerful sunflower. Their proud heads stood a foot above every other plant and she carefully gathered together a bunch.

"What do those mean?" Shinobu asked, leaning against the counter as she watched.

Mitsuri paused, glancing at her bemusedly. "I thought you didn't care for the meanings."

"I don't." Shinobu shrugged gracefully. There was something oddly elegant about her movements and Mitsuri wondered if she'd be a dancer in another life. "I'm just curious."

"Well, the sunflower means respect," Mitsuri explained, adding in some jasmine anyway for the smell. Hospitals were always too lemony. "And jasmines are friendly and graceful." She beamed as she looked at Shinobu. "Can't you just see it in how they look? These little things the flowers try to tell us?"

"Not at all," Shinobu replied bluntly. "Flowers are flowers—you're the one finding them graceful or respectful."

Mitsuri shook her head. She'd never met such a bullheaded person before. Setting aside the completed bouquet, she picked up a few carnations. Despite it all, she felt utterly fascinated by the doctor, and she wondered if Shinobu would pick it up from the flowers. "You need to listen harder to what the flower is trying to tell you."

Shinobu opened her mouth before cutting herself off. Donning a sunny smile, she waltzed over to Mitsuri. With her arms clasped behind her back, she was the picture of innocence. Mitsuri blinked, uncertain on how to respond before she came to a stop right in front of her. Brushing a loose lock away, she cupped her ear and leaned toward the carnations clenched in Mitsuri's hands. "Hmmm?"

For a moment, Mitsuri forgot to breathe.

After a few seconds, she looked up, her eyes crinkling with amusement. Her lips curled into a coy smirk. "They're telling me I'm right."

She couldn't even get mad. A dozen butterflies fluttered in her belly as Shinobu left. It was only when the door closed that she could manage a feeble, "They're not."

iii. Pansies

There were few things Mitsuri looked forward to as much as she did her weekly calls with her childhood friend. Pressing the phone against her ear, she started making her preordered bouquets. There was a harmony in doing something she loved while talking to someone she loved.

"How's the shop?" she asked, humming softly to herself as she gathered her flowers.

"It's good as expected," Obanai said, his voice a soft whisper. It almost sounded like the snakes he loved so much, and Mitsuri always enjoyed finding the way people changed to match their interests. "You're in a good mood?"

Mitsuri almost cooed—it was so like him to brush aside personal questions and focus on her. "Well, I'm talking to you!"

"That's…" She could almost picture his red face. Obanai had always been terrible with affection, despite how many hugs and kisses she'd bombarded him with over the years. He cleared his throat. "I mean, more than usual."

She giggled. "Well, there's this new customer who's the cutest thing. She has butterfly hair clips, earrings, you name it, and her name means butterfly too! And she's so short, she's just adorable."

"That's nice," Obanai replied, sounding as perplexed as ever. He never seemed to understand her penchant for gushing about her clients, though he listened all the same.

"Oh, but she's also really witty—she never agrees with me and always says the most interesting things and I should be mad, I know I should, but I can't really say anything in response." Mitsuri frowned as she realized she'd been picking habenaria radiatas, despite not needing them. Perhaps she shouldn't be doing two things at once, it was hard to focus and give her bouquets the love they deserved.

"And that's a good thing?" Obanai asked.

"Hmm?" Mitsuri blinked, remembering her previous sentence. "Oh, yes! Well, no, I guess, I don't really like it when we argue because I can never figure out the right words. And whenever I get close, she smiles and it just throws me off track."

She sighed, shoulders sinking from the memory. Honestly, she loved passionate people, but Shinobu didn't quite fit into that box. She wasn't dispassionate either—just firm on her beliefs. Which was great, but her beliefs were the opposite of Mitsuri's and that bothered her more than she liked to admit.

Obanai clarified, "So it's a bad thing?"

"Oh, no, not at all!" Mitsuri chuckled, scratching her chin. "She's really nice otherwise! She's always buying flowers for her patients and it's cute that she's pretending she doesn't care."

There was a long silence on the other end. Mitsuri rubbed her ears and pressed the phone closer, listening to the white noise before asking, "Obanai?"

"Mitsuri, you sound like you have a crush," he uttered slowly, like he was coaxing one of his snakes out of hiding.

"A crush?" Mitsuri's jaw dropped. She had never expected to hear those words from Obanai of all people and she was torn between being proud of his growth and sputtering in disbelief. Her door-chimes rang as someone opened the door, sparing her from having to mount a defense. "Sorry, have to go!"

As she hung up, she noticed she'd absentmindedly put together a bundle of pansies, small cute flowers that made her think of Shinobu for some reason.

"Hey."

Mitsuri looked up to find Shinobu standing on the other side of the counter and she dropped her flowers quickly, as if they were burning hot. Remembering Obanai's words, her cheeks burned a bright red and she squeaked, "Y-y-yes?"

Shinobu stared at her, concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yes," Mitsuri replied unconvincingly. She shoved the pansies to the side and asked, "Another bouquet?"

Mercifully, her voice didn't squeak this time, and Shinobu only looked at her curiously before nodding. "Yeah. A teenage boy this time."

"Oh? A teenager?" Mitsuri's eyes lit up and she immediately perked up. Teenage years were the cutest. "He must be adorable."

"Not really, he's a pain," Shinobu replied, though her words had none of their usual bite. Actually, she didn't have her normal energy at all, now that Mitsuri thought about it.

"But you're buying flowers for him," Mitsuri pointed out with a grin.

"He's a patient." Shinobu shrugged lifelessly. "Can I get the bouquet?"

That was more abrupt than she was used to now. Shinobu was like a cat, and she always liked to tease Mitsuri at least once before she left. Frowning, she studied the other woman, taking in the bags under her eyes, the tired way she shifted on her feet. She reached forward and grabbed Shinobu's hand, ignoring her surprised intake of air. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just a little tired." She stared at their enjoined hands but didn't pull away.

Mitsuri's frown grew deeper. "How about you have some tea, while I prepare the bouquet?"

"Huh?" Shinobu stared at her blankly. "Tea?"

"Yes!" Confident, she tightened her grasp of Shinobu's hand and led her around the counter and to the backroom. Before they left, she grabbed the bouquet of pansies,

"Look, I just need—"

"It'll take some time, teenage boys need a lot of attention," Mitsuri interrupted, refusing to take no for an answer. Yanking the door open, she all but dragged Shinobu into the room. It was a small, cramped room, with just enough space for a kitchenette, a small table, and two chairs. It was more than enough for Mitsuri and her part-time workers, and the perfect place for a very tired doctor to take a proper break. Not allowing Shinobu a chance to escape, she forced her to take a seat. "And I made a new tea and I don't want it to go to waste."

Despite looking unconvinced, she didn't get up. "I…"

"Let me know if you like it. I want to expand to a café." Mitsuri placed the flowers and a mug in front of Shinobu. While not piping hot, the tea was at least warm. The sweet, floral scent of lilies and roses filled the air as she poured. "So you have to be honest."

Shinobu stared at the cup for a long moment, then up at Mitsuri. When she smiled reassuringly, the doctor sighed. "You don't have to worry about that, I'm always honest."

"Great!" Mitsuri beamed.

She picked up the mug and took a small sip. Closing her eyes, a small, contented smile graced her face. "It's nice."

"It is," she agreed, turning to go.

"Hey." Shinobu grabbed her arm, halting her. "Thanks."

"I-it's nothing," Mitsuri sputtered, resisting the urge to flee as her heart started beating a mile a minute. She remembered the carnations, remembered Obanai's words, and maybe, there was something to it all.

iv. forget-me-nots

"So what flower are you using today?" Shinobu asked, leaning against the counter as she watched Mitsuri organize yet another bouquet. "What are they telling you today?"

Mitsuri didn't know if she was asking seriously or in one of her more teasing ways. Actually, Mitsuri didn't know a lot of things anymore. Like, was she just imagining that Shinobu smiled at her more often, or that her hand brushed Mitsuri's a lot whenever she took the bouquets, or hell, that her eyes were really soft right now? No matter how many times she'd called Obanai, he just told her to confess, and for once, Mitsuri had a hard time declaring love.

Her heart leaped to her mouth whenever she tried, and she had to back down before Shinobu thought of her as an even bigger idiot.

Even now, for something as innocuous as this, she felt tongue-tied. "Well, it's an, uh, surgery, so some yellow poppies…for success…"

"Yellow?" Shinobu raised a brow. "Does the colour really make a difference?"

"For some flowers, definitely." Feeling a little more comfortable with the topic now, she rambled on, "Like with roses, red ones mean romantic love, of course, but a rose can be for all sorts of love! Yellow for friendship and jealousy, white ones are for devotion, pink for confidence—it's lovely that you can show just how much you care."

Noticing Shinobu's stare, she cut herself off. Her neck felt hot. "I…"

"Why'd you stop?" Shinobu asked, sounding utterly sincere. "It was interesting."

Was it? Seriously, how had they talked before this? By this point, Shinobu should have interrupted with a jab of some sort but, instead, she was encouraging her to go on. This was new. This was different. And it wasn't at all unwelcomed. To be honest, Mitsuri wanted to keep those eyes on her, to keep Shinobu in the shop for just a little longer. Setting aside the completed bouquet, she started walking around her plants. Pulling out a sprig of delicate bluebells, she continued, "This mean gratefulness."

"Oh?" Before Mitsuri could react, Shinobu plucked the flower out of her hand, her fingers brushing against hers. Despite her shorter stature, Mitsuri felt intimidated by her gaze, caught like a deer in the headlights. "A flower for gratitude?"

"Y-yes." Mitsuri swallowed, pointing at the white anemone. "Those means sincerity, so you could pair them together."

Shinobu moved away, giving her room to breathe as she examined the flowers. "Do you do that too? Pair flowers by meaning?"

"S-sometimes." Like right now. She couldn't stop herself from grabbing camellias, gardenias, tulips—it was a good thing that Shinobu knew next to nothing about flower language, or else she'd know the words that Mitsuri found so hard to say but her flowers declared so easily.

Longing.

Secret Love.

One-sided love.

I love you. It was only when she started to reach for the roses that Mitsuri stopped herself. That would be too obvious.

"I'm surprised you have cacti, I didn't think anyone would want one of those." Shinobu turned around. "Do those have a meaning too?"

If she didn't know better, she'd accuse the doctor of toying with her. Lust. Mitsuri couldn't say the word, and instead held out the messily put together bundle. "Take these too."

"Huh? I only asked for one." Surprised, Shinobu automatically grabbed the flowers.

"It's on the house." Mitsuri smiled, adding a bluebell to the bunch as she stood next to Shinobu. It wasn't lovely to lie, but it was only a half-lie. She was grateful, truly, but the bundle meant more than that. "I'm glad we met."

"Me too," Shinobu murmured before breathing in the flowers. "Oh, but they smell nice."

"Yeah." Mitsuri always put 100% of herself into everything she'd made, but she'd never seen her heart so nakedly in her work before.

"I should give you something in return," Shinobu murmured, her eyes half-lidded as she admired the flowers.

Mitsuri shook her head. "That's fine, I—"

"I insist." Shinobu looked up at her, across the flowers, her eyes full of something unreadable. The bouquet securely in her hand, she walked along the rows of flowers before selecting one and walking back. She stopped right in front of her. "For you."

"That's a…" Mitsuri trailed off as she stared at the forget-me-nots in Shinobu's hand.

"Forget-me-not." Shinobu set down her bouquet on the counter behind Mitsuri now. "What do they mean?"

True love. Mitsuri couldn't say the words, couldn't look away from the bright blue flowers.

An arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close. Mitsuri squeaked as Shinobu gently drew her down, until their faces were mere centimeters apart. She could feel the doctor's warm breath on her skin. Her eyes fell to her lips, then to her eyes once more, and she swallowed. "S-shinobu?"

In response, Shinobu cradled her cheek and pressed her forehead against Mitsuri's. "Didn't you tell me to listen to the flowers?"

Mitsuri froze, the implication getting to her. "I thought you couldn't hear them."

"Didn't want to before," Shinobu corrected. She moved closer, tantalizingly so. "I wanted to now."

"T-then…" she trailed off, realizing that Shinobu understood exactly what she meant in the bouquet. It had been a confession. Immediately, she flushed a bright red. "The flowers…"

"It's not one-sided or a secret," Shinobu chuckled, before closing the gap. "Not anymore."