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usedtobeljsMy days are stressed, and I am exhausted and dispirited. Never mind.
Three drabbles! On the subject of flowers, because why not.
"I can't decide on the flower that suits you best," Peter said meditatively, whilst lying in their marital bed and toying with Harriet's hair.
"Why would you even attempt such a thing?" Harriet replied. "A fruitless enterprise, surely."
He rolled over onto her, the better to loom. (He did find it easier to loom when horizontal, damn his inches.) "My lady, I spend much of my time thinking of you—"
"When not thinking of crime," she interjected.
"Obviously. Even so, you are the best use of my time."
He kissed her laugh away. Chrysanthemums? No. Ruby rose, thorns. Yes.
.............................
Jim doesn't remember their anniversary as a rule. Mary doesn't mind. They have been together a few years, and every day is a remembrance of how lucky they are to have found each other.
(Also, Jim's cash-flow problems are habitual, and he might not have the dollars for more than a grocery-store bouquet on the day. It's fine.)
So when she gets to the television station and finds a vase full of sunflowers and roses on her desk, it takes her a minute to realize what it is.
The card reads, Maximilian paid his bill. Happy anniversary, babe. Love, Jim
............................
"Wow, these flowers are amazing," Buffy says, and touches a petal of the bloody huge bouquet currently weighing down the sideboard.
"Rupert gave them to me. I made a substantial profit on a risky investment," Anya says. "Here's your Chardonnay."
Even as Buffy takes it, she glares at Spike. He reads it all too well.
Sighing, he says, "You're bollocksing it up for the rest of us, mate. Now the Slayer's going to want flowers."
"And then she'll be happy." Rupes pulls his demon-girl close. "Easy win, tosser."
Good point, Spike thinks but doesn't say. Soul hasn't changed that much.
May your Sunday be full of flowers!
Three drabbles! On the subject of flowers, because why not.
"I can't decide on the flower that suits you best," Peter said meditatively, whilst lying in their marital bed and toying with Harriet's hair.
"Why would you even attempt such a thing?" Harriet replied. "A fruitless enterprise, surely."
He rolled over onto her, the better to loom. (He did find it easier to loom when horizontal, damn his inches.) "My lady, I spend much of my time thinking of you—"
"When not thinking of crime," she interjected.
"Obviously. Even so, you are the best use of my time."
He kissed her laugh away. Chrysanthemums? No. Ruby rose, thorns. Yes.
.............................
Jim doesn't remember their anniversary as a rule. Mary doesn't mind. They have been together a few years, and every day is a remembrance of how lucky they are to have found each other.
(Also, Jim's cash-flow problems are habitual, and he might not have the dollars for more than a grocery-store bouquet on the day. It's fine.)
So when she gets to the television station and finds a vase full of sunflowers and roses on her desk, it takes her a minute to realize what it is.
The card reads, Maximilian paid his bill. Happy anniversary, babe. Love, Jim
............................
"Wow, these flowers are amazing," Buffy says, and touches a petal of the bloody huge bouquet currently weighing down the sideboard.
"Rupert gave them to me. I made a substantial profit on a risky investment," Anya says. "Here's your Chardonnay."
Even as Buffy takes it, she glares at Spike. He reads it all too well.
Sighing, he says, "You're bollocksing it up for the rest of us, mate. Now the Slayer's going to want flowers."
"And then she'll be happy." Rupes pulls his demon-girl close. "Easy win, tosser."
Good point, Spike thinks but doesn't say. Soul hasn't changed that much.
May your Sunday be full of flowers!
