Hmmm too young, too dumb to realize
That I should have bought you flowers and held your hand

~When I was Your Man -Bruno Mars~

He doesn't bother looking up when the bell tinkles gently, signaling that he has a customer.

He believes that customers should decide what they want themselves, not him forcing his opinions on them. He snips at the lilacs and trims down the stalk in his hands to an appropriate length and puts it beside the finished stalks before setting it down. Satisfied with his work, he turns his attention back to the rest of the unpruned stalks before picking up his scissors again.

"Oi, protozoan."

The stalk in his hand nearly snaps with the force applied on it. His left eyebrow twitches as he slowly levels his gaze onto his newest customer, who clearly has no intention of asking for his services politely.

"Yes, how may I help you?"

His voice is strained with irritation from being interrupted. Customer or not, he doesn't like being interrupted when he is pruning flowers for a bouquet; he believes that everything for a customer should be perfect and made to the best of his ability.

But still, couldn't the customer see that he was busy? Or at least offered an "excuse me"?

I am going to kill him if he says one more word in that tone. I'll-

He blinks in surprise as he takes in the young man before him. He looks roughly about his age, with smooth ebony hair trimmed short that the entirety of his forehead is visible. His bored dull ruby eyes are looking straight at him, and when their eyes meet, one side of his mouth curls up in a twisted smirk.

"I need flowers."

"That's why you're here right?" he snaps back, settling the stalks into neat piles. No shit, Sherlock.

The customer's lips stretch even more, if even possible, into a even more maniacal grin as he steps right up to the counter and casually places his elbow on it, leaning his face into his palm as he watches him work.

"You are going to wish that you have never said that, you single-celled organism."

He resists the urge to roll his eyes at the remark and instead stands up and brushes his apron off. Stepping out from behind the counter, he watches the lithe young man carefully as he turns around and eyes him in return. They watch each other for a while, like two panthers watching each other, waiting for the other to strike first. Dull red irises meet mocha-brown ones unhesitatingly and unwaveringly, and it was a fair one minute before he looks away and walks to one corner of the shop.

"So what do you need flowers for?"

He feels the smirk on his back widen even more and he bites his tongue to keep his temper in check. Reaching out the set the buttercups straight again, he frowns as he notes that one at the back has already wilted a teeny bit (how did that even happen). He hurries back to the counter and reaches behind it for his gardening scissors.

"-onadate."

He blinks, his hand just short of reaching their target. His head snaps back to eye his customer who is now looking away, just a slight flush of pink on his cheeks.

"Excuse me, what?"

"I said, I am going on a date!" the raven shoots back at him, clearly irritated at having to repeat himself. He humours the customer (after all, you should never make your customer angry), and keeps his grin in, his face muscles twitching from the effort.

"Oh... okay! Any preferences?"

His customer looks around the shop, a hint of boredom in his eyes before swinging back dramatically to face him. He notices that the raven's left collar is crumpled, a contrast to the rest of him; the suit jacket pressed neatly, the tie done up symmetrically (almost close to perfection), his pants ironed crisply and his shoes shined to the point where they flash the moment any light hit them. He pulls in his lower lip and refrains from commenting, instead choosing to abandon the thought of reaching for the gardening scissors. Leaning back against the counter, he fingers his lighter in his pocket, itching for a smoke.

He takes the moment to take in his current customer's appearance carefully. He notices that his eyes are a most unique shade of dull red, which would seem most dead and unenergetic on normal people; but on this man, it seems like only that colour would go so well with the alabaster skin of his. A sharp chin jutted out from a skinny neck which disappeared into the white shirt that he was wearing; the suit jacket clinging to his equally thin arms only emphasized on his lithe figure, his hips seemed to be almost feminine, too tiny to be actually on a male body. He let his eyes travel over his legs, wondering how he managed to keep them so thin-

"Are you ogling me flea?"

Great, they hadn't even looked at each other for 10 minutes and he already had a second "nickname". Rolling his eyes internally, he levels his gaze back to his customer's face and fakes a bored expression.

"No, who wants to look at you? Now, have you decided what you want?"

He is faced with an equally bored expression as the raven-haired man flings his arms dramatically out and fakes an exaggerated expression of woe. Blinking wildly, he immediately crosses his arms defensively in front of him, watching the young man warily.

You never know, he tells himself, he might be some hot shot CEO so keep your temper in check.

"Do I look like I know any shit about flowers? No! That's why I am here right? That's why I told you I was going on a date right? If not, why would I waste my time interacting with a single-celled organism like you? Gosh, are you all normal people so dumb?"

No, you did not just say that. He bites his tongue to keep himself from lashing out.

Rule number one of a salesperson: Never insult your customer, no matter how bonkers he might be.

He clenches his right hand into a fist and takes a deep breath slowly. Plastering a smile onto his face, he walks past his customer and approaches the front left corner of the shop, reaching out for a certain type of flower he already has in mind.

"Why not you consider the pink roses? Many girls like them-"

"Oh god, finally you get it," the raven-haired customer rolls his eyes dramatically and flounces across the room to stand by his side, hands in his pockets as he scrutinizes the different shades of colours on the roses, cocking his head on one side, seemingly to be deep in thought.

He lets his customer lose himself in thought, he himself leaning against the wall and taking this opportunity to observe his face. The young man seems confident enough at first glance, but upon further observation, he notes that his eyebrows are scrunched up just that teeny little bit in confusion and his thumbs are twiddling at the hems of his pockets where his hands are tucked in; pure signs of confusions and insecure of what to do next.

Being indoctrinated to serve to the best of his ability, he decides to offer his help. Well, he is the one who was supposed to serve in the first place.

"How old is your date?"

A quick flash of dull red irises towards him as the customer lazily runs his hands through his hair in an attempt to blow off his awkwardness.

"About my age I guess?"

"And how old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

He rolls his eyes and groans mentally.

"Like hell I would believe that."

"I am twenty-one, whether you choose to believe it or not," insists the raven in an almost childish manner, his aura similar to a child who refuses to believe that Santa Claus wasn't real.

It wasn't like he even liked the idea of Santa in the first place, he thinks, scowling internally.

He huffs in annoyance and reaches down and carefully picks out a few roses of different shades. He selects one the shade of deep red wine, four of which are a rich fuchsia shade, eight that are a cute sheen of baby pink and twelve that are the palest tinge of pink pearl. Gathering the stalks in one hand, he gestures for his customer to move towards the counter as he checks the stems and petals of the roses, angling the stalks at different angles to catch the light.

He slips behind the counter and picks up the gardening scissors, carefully laying out the twenty-five stalks of roses out on the counter. He inspects them as he grabs the cleaning rag beneath the counter top and hurriedly wipes it over the blades.

"Take a seat. This is going to take about fifteen minutes or so. Are you in a hurry?"

The statement eventually ends in a question as he picks up the first rose (the wine-coloured one) and prepares to prune it neatly. He is answered with the person that he was addressing casually pulls out one of the stool at the counter and plops down on it over-dramatically. He slide his elbow over the counter top and rests his chin on a thin palm, watching him work with a placid expression.

"You seem to know what you customers want."

"I have worked long enough as a florist to read people and know what they want flowers for and what sort their recipient would like," he replies off-handedly as he reaches for the drawer that holds the plastic wrapping, shaping paper and ribbons. He selects pastel pink plastic and a slightly light shade of shaping paper, whisking out the roll of cream-coloured ribbon at the same time. He roots around in the lower drawer for craft scissors and fishes out the pair that provides wavy edges.

"Ah, so you mean my date would like the bouquet that you are going to make?"

Thin lips quirk up in a dry smirk as he deftly cuts the plastic wrapping and shaping paper together, making sure not to rip the edges to make them jagged. Rolling the rest of it back into the neat bundles, he sets them aside as he smooths out the pieces, placing the shaping paper on top of the plastic wrapping and placing a few paperweights on the corners to make sure they don't fly off the counter.

"If she doesn't like them, you can come back and I'll refund you."

The statement was received by his customer giving him a smirk of his own as he taps the fingers of his other hand on the counter in a lazy tempo of acceptance of challenge, the only sign of acknowledgement from him.

Internally, he suppresses yet another urge to roll his eyes and instead picks up the stalks, arranging to sole unique one in the middle, followed by the four fuchsia-coloured ones surrounding it and then the eight baby pink roses, which happened to be smaller. Lastly, he settles the twelve roses that are pink pearl on the outside and pauses to take in his handiwork before suddenly walking out from behind the counter again, throwing the calm demeanor off the raven-haired customer for a second.

He leans down to the baby breaths at the side of the counter and selects a few stalks from the entire myriad of white and green there, deftly plucking out the thinner stalks. Standing up, he slides them in at the side and then reaches out for the shaping paper, wrapping it carefully around the arrangement. After a few 'hmmphhs' and 'ahhs' and a fair bit of adjusting, he is finally done with it and he snaps a length of lace-themed tape from the right side of the counter to hold the bouquet together firmly at the base.

As he slides the plastic wrapping over the bouquet, he sinks deep into the silent joy of completing another bouquet, pulling the cream ribbon into a neat butterfly bow and sliding a small safety pin to keep it in place. Dusting off his hands, he presents the finished product to the customer, who accepts it with a slighly stunned expression on his face.

"There. Do you think it's okay?"

It takes the young man quite a while to answer, but eventually he nods and looks up at him, the dull red eye gleaming with life that previously wasn't there.

"I guess this will do for this time protozoan. How much?"

He blinks rapidly and bites his lip in irritation as he walks to the cashier, beckoning to the customer to come along. God, he was still pissing him off.

"Ah, since you are going on your first date with your girfriend, I'll give you a small discount since you have the heart to prepare something for her," he smiles forcibly at the customer and he taps the buttons of the calculator there.

"That will be 3500 yen then."

The customer hands him a 10000 yen note with two fingers and watches him while he takes it and rummages in the cashier drawer for change, the glint in his eyes turning almost maniacal.

"Say, what's your name?"

His hand stills at the question and he shoots an intense stare at his customer through his blonde bangs.

"Why do you ask?"

"Who knows, I might still need your services next time," the thin lips on that equally thin sharp face curve back up into that crazy grin that he wore when he first walked up to him and called him a single-celled organism.

"Well I might not want to offer them," he snaps back, no qualms about holding his temper back now that business had been dealt with. Pushing the cashier drawer shut with perhaps a little more force then necessary, he reaches across the counter and yanks the man towards him by the arm, ignoring the scuffled protest made at the sudden action.

"God, you're going on a date and your collar is crumpled like this, did you even look at yourself in the mirror?" he smooths out the collar and click his tongue disapprovingly. Reaching into a smaller drawer where he keeps his personal belongs, he pulls out two slim collar stiffeners and slides them onto the crumpled collar, nodding to himself in approval when they are properly set in place.

"There, and here's your change."

"Your name, flea."

He rolls his eyes in exasperation. Wouldn't the man just shut up already?

"Heiwajima. Heiwajima Shizuo."

"Shizuo huh?" the customer tests the name, nodding to himself as he tucks the change into his pocket, smirking at him.

"Well then, I'll be off!"

The customer waves cheerily before skipping towards the door. It took him a while before he realises something.

"Hey you! What's your name?"

The raven turned around, the cheeky maniacal grin still glued to his face.

"Izaya. Orihara Izaya. And we'll be seeing each other again, florist-san!"

"Wha-"

He is cut off by the tinkling of the bell, signaling the exit of his latest customer. He sinks down onto his stool and groans in exasperation; that customer had given him one hell of a headache. He had been the most annoying customer that he had in a while, in his opinion.

Orihara Izaya huh, the name sounded familiar.

Shrugging it off, he stands up and stretches, preparing to go to the back to pour himself a cup of banana milk and maybe enjoy a cookie or two. However, his eyes widen and immediately his face twitches into a scowl as he remembers one more reason for Heiwajima Shizuo to hate Orihara Izaya.

"Damn it! He didn't even thank me for the bouquet!"

A/N:

HEY GUYS IT'S BEEN A WHILEEEEE~

I have been really busy with school work cause well, O levels this year QAQ but I am still going ahead with my writing plans! The stuff posted on my profile are mostly already in progress, and I have decided not to announce this one cause it was meant to be a really special present for my dear Roe! I hope you like it dear!

Yepp, my first multi-chaptered in a while, and I hope you guys like it! Reviews are welcome and favorites are great! Just be prepared that it will take a while to update cause well, school's kinda a bitch these days.

Thank you! ~crashing-avalanches