Blaine had his back to the door when the cool spring air hit the back of his neck and the chimes above the door signaled that a customer had come into the shop. Blaine was the owner and manager of a small, but well-known florist shop in Manhattan, Floriography. Blaine had changed the name when he bought it, because he was a firm believer in the somewhat old fashioned language of flowers, and every one of his bouquets expressed a message that the giver wanted. He didn’t just pair the flowers together because they looked pretty; he made sure that the meaning was also correct. This meant, of course, that he had a wide variety of flowers in stock all the time, and that he had exotic flowers that were sometimes trickier to find elsewhere in the city. He supposed this is why his shop is so well known.

Before he could turn around, he was aware of the customer’s presence, because he was talking very loudly on his cell phone.

“No, six o’clock won’t work, I need to get the designs to the client by four so she can approve them today and the dress will be ready for the event on Sunday. I need them by three pm at the latest. “ He paused briefly, listening to whoever was on the other end, “If you are unable to do it, then I will take my business elsewhere. Good, I will let you know the selection by the end of the day today.” He pulled his phone away from his ear, pressing the end button and looking up at Blaine’s shop, as if he wasn’t sure how he got there.

Blaine watched him, admiring the man’s skin tight pants and neatly put together shirt, vest, and bowtie combination. The man had perfect hair, swept off his face elegantly. Blaine’s expression was a mixture of shock and confusion. He shook his head slightly, clearing all of the inappropriate things he’d like to do to this man from his head, “Welcome to Floriography, how can I help you?”

“I’m Kurt, Kurt Hummel, I have an appointment this afternoon to look at wedding arrangements. I think I have an appointment with someone named Blaire. Is she in?”

“Blaine? That’s me. I’m actually the only one who works here.”

“Blaine, its nice to meet you!” Kurt extended his hand and gripped Blaine’s firmly.

Blaine couldn’t help but think of how great it would be to have his fingers carding through the man, Kurt’s, soft hair. Blaine mentally kicked himself; this man was here because he was looking at floral arrangements for his wedding. That makes him very very off limits.

“Nice to meet you too, Kurt. Would you like to come back into my office? We can have a closer look at the flowers and figure out exactly what you want for the ceremony.”

Blaine let Kurt back into his workspace, which was crowded with buckets of flowers, spools of ribbon, and a tiny desk that was covered in multi-colored post-its and a laptop, playing Pandora.

Kurt sat down across from Blaine, pulling a sleek black portfolio out of his bag and opening it up to take notes. Blaine opened up his catalogue that also served as a reference guide for all the different meanings of flowers placing the book between them.

“So, is the bride also coming, or…?” Blaine trailed off.

“No. There is no bride; I’m gay. And my partner, Troy, can’t make it, he’s on a business trip in London.”

“Oh, ok, great.” When Kurt looked slightly confused by Blaine’s response; he added, “I’m gay too. Not that it makes a difference, just…”

Kurt laughed, “Then we already have something in common.” He paused briefly before adding, “I was thinking for the arrangements on either side of the arbor, we could do some lovely hydrangeas. I love the round shape and how full they always look.”

Blaine laughed lightly, “Right to work. Also, no. No hydrangeas at a wedding.”

“Excuse me? Why can’t there be hydrangeas at a wedding?”

“Kurt, you don’t know what the name of my shop means, do you?”

“Uh… no. Why does it matter?” Kurt was now visibly offended.

Blaine smiled, “Floriography is the language of flowers. It is a late 19th century tradition, in which all flowers have a meaning, and bouquets would be given to express a secret meaning. All of my arrangements use this old tradition and have a meaning. You don’t want hydrangeas at a wedding, because they mean frigidness or heartlessness. I don’t think that is the message you want to send to the guy you’re marrying.”

It was then that Kurt laughed, high and light but Blaine could tell that it was genuine. “So you know this language of flowers?”

“Yeah, my grandma taught me when I was younger.”

“Ok, so what does,“ Kurt picked up a Gerber daisy from the table, “this mean?”

Blaine took the flower gently from him, “Gerber daisies mean cheerfulness. They are one of my favorites, because they just look so happy. And this one here,” Blaine wheeled his chair over to a bucket on the far side of the room, pulling a white and purple dahlia out, “is my favorite flower. It means dignity and elegance. Which just seems to fit the flower, don’t you think?”

Kurt took the stem and looked at it closely, “The petals are so symmetrical, it’s beautiful.” Kurt looked up at Blaine, “Yeah, it does seem very dignified and elegant. I think this might be my new favorite flower.”

Blaine smiled, “So what kind of message would you like to send at your wedding?”

They worked for almost an hour, Kurt listing adjectives and thoughts about Troy and their relationship. Blaine searched through his book, finding flowers to match Kurt’s descriptions and pairing them together. When the front door of the shop opened, it startled both of them, and only then did Kurt look down at his phone, realizing that he was going to be late to his next meeting if he didn’t leave right away.

Blaine went up to the front of the shop to help the customer with a bouquet for his ill grandmother, daisies and coreopsis, faith and cheer. Kurt smiled as Blaine explained what the flowers mean to the man and moved to leave. Blaine called before he could reach the door, “Wait, just a minute, Kurt.”

Blaine quickly wrapped the flowers, the man paid and left. Kurt was about to say something when Blaine handed him a lavender rose. “This is for you.”

“What does it mean?” Kurt asked, smelling the flower.

Blaine smiled, “This one is my favorite meaning, but I never thought I’d be able to use it. I’m glad you finally gave me a chance to.”

“But…” Kurt started.

“I’ll let you figure it out on your own. I’ll be in touch in a couple of months when everything is closer and I can let you know more exactly what I’ll have in stock for September 9th. And if you need a special bouquet to take to Troy, just let me know.”

Kurt was still smiling and smelling the rose as he walked out of the shop into the cool March air.

Blaine walked back to his workroom and banged his head against his desk. How could he give a client who’s wedding flowers he is arranging a flower meaning love at first sight. Blaine sighed he was smitten.

No, he was fucked.