Chapter Text
"Would you care to buy a branch of the freshly cut lilacs?"
The question caught Bruce Wayne off guard just when he took pride in slipping out of the Metropolis held National Convention Center unseen. A fox like desire to vanish before some randomly passing journalist recognised one of the main Convention participants formed a polite rejection to a minor obstacle, but the words stilled and melted away on his lips like the lingering snow in the warmth of spring.
Usually, Bruce enjoyed all advantages his height offered, including overlording into submission the disagreeable parties. Here, the billionaire nearly had to tilt his chin up to face an earnest smile of a man not much older than twenty. The slanted sun rays cascaded onto the stranger's wavy hair and broad shoulders, and danced on the dark eyelashes. It looked like every fibre of his being was made of light. The enchanting, cornflower eyes peculiarly remained wide open out of a shadow on a very bright day.
The young man waited, holding out to Bruce an armful of flowers that rested in his embrace like the violet stars scooped up from the night sky. There was a pleasant ringing in the alpha's head and his mind drifted void of a single word.
"Oh... do you prefer the tulips then or some other spring flowers?" the smile playing on the perfectly sculpted lips turned to puzzlement since the customer wasn't leaving nor expressing a wish to buy a bouquet.
"I prefer lilacs..." Bruce issued dumbfounded, "or tulips." Or florists, his mind supplied.
Spooked by a bunch of an overly excited pups kicking a ball across the cobblestone road, a pack of pigeons rose into the air with the hoots of protest at having their ground occupied by so many people. The birds took refuge on the cornices of the nearby buildings. The pause was filled with music spilling out of a wide open window and laughter of the passers-by as the young man tried to make sense of his claim.
"I guess I cannot decide which flowers I like best either because each kind is beautiful in its own way. The tulips are lean and hold with grace the curved, elegant lines. The lilacs are like a friendly family. Each branch is keeping all the little stars together. Maybe you can choose based on how soon you need a bouquet? I have the lilacs with me. The tulips are at our shop not far from here and sometimes I sell them at the Garden Gate."
"Your description of the lilacs wins me over," Bruce thought about his family and a pup he had to leave in Gotham, not as perfect as he wished it to be, but he was trying hard. "I would like them as it's important to support the notion of cherishing your family," instinctively Bruce ran a hand through his hair and smiled at the young man. Not the fake smile reserved for pleasing the general public. This one appeared without effort prompted by the stranger's genuine disposition.
"What a beautiful reason! I think I'm going to favour the lilacs a little bit more after hearing it," the young man confessed with a hint of guilt like an older brother who could never pick which sibling they loved more.
Fascinated, Bruce watched the play of emotions on the fair face aglow upon hearing a touching sentiment. The alluring fragrance of the blooming flowers swam about them like a cloud and beneath it by stepping closer the alpha distinguished another scent that was making his head spin - that of an unbound omega.
On the other end of the square the crowd at the hub of activity began to thin as the convention members disentangled from the web of the quizzical questions and escaped.
"How many would you like?" the florist prompted timidly after another long lasting pause.
I want to hold what was held in your arms and find a fragile bond in doing so, Bruce thought. Then, maybe, some light might reach me as well.
"All of them!"
The prices drawn with a careful hand on a piece of paper taped to the basket's side were very fair. To his charging, Bruce discovered that he didn't have enough cash. Hence the petty robbers imagined that multi-billionaires stored their cash in a pocket instead of a bank, it was a fine joke that a luckless hunter of quick fortunes would have come up empty handed, not that the Gotham vigilante would have been caught out in the first place. Except, this gleeful sentiment at present put him in a ridiculous position.
"Are you a little short?" the florist sensed his discontent, not for the first time encountering such a problem.
"I suppose, I've overestimated how much I have with me."
"It's all right. We can make an exchange with what you have!"
"I could..."
"I can't possibly charge you so much after hearing your reason!"
There was a powerful conviction sealed into the exclamation Bruce couldn't argue with. He intended to ask whether the young man could wait while he retrieved the lacking amount from the nearest bank. There was something underneath the mild, friendly exterior that made it impossible to reject the offer without offending the florist.
"Thank you," Bruce conceded. "Will it be acceptable to place the payment into the basket?"
The omega was wearing a pouch around his waist where he stored the earnings, but his hands were filled with flowers.
"Yes."
Bruce knelt to leave the money on the neatly arranged red cloth. Once he was up, the alpha held out his arms to accept the flowers. This gesture wasn’t met half way. While the omega turned to track the buyer, he was facing Bruce slightly wrong and held the bouquet like he was waiting for it to be taken from him. There was something off about those beautiful eyes. When the florist stepped into the building's shade, his pupils hardly dilated.
Stricken, Bruce stared at the omega. Why hadn't he taken notice before of a white cane and a turned inward tag that he had mistaken for a seller permit? Most likely, because the florist had spoken so eloquently about the flowers like he could truly see them. That description was touch based, he realised.
"Your breathing changed. Are you all right?" the omega sensed his change of disposition.
"I'm fine. I was admiring..."
"The flowers?" The young man interpreted his loss for words as sensitivity for the aesthetics. "I can imagine that something with a scent so divine is breathtaking."
"It is. Undeniably," said Bruce as their hands touched when the flowers were delicately passed into his care. The alpha expected calloused palms, but the omega's skin was as soft as the child's. The young man continued facing him politely for several more minutes after their exchange.
"Would you like to ask me something else about the flowers? I've learned a lot about them lately, so I might be helpful. But, if I don't know I'm sure my mother will!"
Intelligent question... what Bruce wouldn't have given for one. For someone who took pride in having his wits sharp about him, he must have forgotten to pack them before he left Gotham.
"I heard people submerge lilacs in bathtubs to preserve them longer."
"No one I know does that," the florist laughed. "They have so much pollen. You'll never finish cleaning your bathtub and the water will be all sticky. Nor does it help much with keeping them fresh. A simple glass vase with a daily changed fresh water would be best."
"I'll avoid mixing lilacs and bathtubs then. Unless they're bath oil."
Silence washed over them anew like water and lasted long enough to draw a bath.
"I better go then," Bruce made a step back still looking at the florist.
"Thank you for stopping by. I hope the rest of your day passes wonderfully."
"I'm sure it will. I'll take good care of the flowers."
The florist remained still for a few minutes, facing the direction in which the alpha left and then picked up his cane and the basket.
Bruce did not get far. Wondering why he was hiding, the alpha moved to a spot next to a fountain of a feminine statue holding a pot, out of which poured a crystal stream. His instinct proved trustworthy because not a moment later a tall brunette called out to the omega with a friendly familiarity.
"Hey Smallville!"
The starting journalist already had a formidable reputation to be recognised. She strived to unveil none of the florist's secrets, however, because the omega smiled at her brilliantly, comfortably allowing no other than Lois Lane to claim his elbow and let her guide him.
"You got your stock sold out so fast."
"I did! Everyone was here, exactly as you told me! I guess I'll be able to have lunch at home and then I might come back to try my luck some more. Days like these make me hopeful we might have enough by the end of the summer for the operation.”
“You better!" the journalist poked his shoulder playfully like she was passing on the energy to help the florist move towards his goal. "Keep your chin up and never give up.”
“It’s a lot easier when you have help. Thank you for taking me to this crowded place. I wouldn't have been able to sell so much without your advice."
"Hey, I'm pretty sure it's your angelic smile that sells the flowers rather than my modest contribution. I had work at the convention and figured I could get the pleasure of your company while walking here."
"Still, I'd like to thank you by inviting you to have lunch with us," the enthusiasm about a simple lunch was contagious. "You're walking me back to the shop anyway," the florist added pleadingly enough to compete with a basketful of lost puppies.
"Ugh! I really got to run, but you and your mother's cooking can distract Saint Peter from guarding those gates."
"I'll take that as a yes! You're welcome to drop by to have lunch with us any day without a specific invitation. You're such a good friend."
"Ah, as such a good friend am I entitled to a few little secrets then?” the journalist claimed mischievously. The omega’s face was like an open book and it filled with worry at the cheery intonations. “Do tell, did you meet Mr Right today?"
"This again?" the florist chuckled, blushing at the direction her thoughts have taken. "Why are you so convinced that anyone would even pay attention to me?"
"Because you're standing in public view all day long, looking pretty. I can't believe no one would take notice of you! Everyone in this city must be crazy!”
Although he was normally cautious around her kin, Bruce felt a surge of sympathy for the feisty young woman who treated the florist with such a protective zeal, while the omega passionately denied her accusations on behalf of the citizens.
“So, not even a little bit of flirting?"
"I don't think so. I did have a very pleasant conversation with one gentleman, however. He loves flowers and bought almost half of the basket not long before you showed up."
"Oh really?" Lois shot a piercing look around like she fully expected to find that fine gentleman in their nearest vicinity, which urged the vigilante to bolt behind an urn. Buying half a basket of flowers surely didn't stem from a complete indifference.
Nearly getting caught snapped the dark knight back to reality. What was he doing following a pair of civilians? A fine article this would make, 'A corporate billionaire stalks a local florist with a handful of flowers after short changing him!' Maybe the journalist would spare her friend a disturbing attention. Nonetheless, not only was it foolhardy to follow them, but the Gotham vigilante was going to be late for a private meeting with one of his primary suspects. Over the past two months there was an inflow of the latest experimental weapon models into his city. The targets were too well organised to imitate random incidents for that to be true. The sources pointed to Metropolis, while nothing in this large city ever passed without an explicit permission signed by Lex Luthor. It was best to scout the ground first by meeting the man, who covertly ruled nearly an entire city, as Bruce Wayne and then Batman was going to act accordingly.
Shaking off the webs of sweet madness and with the last glance at the florist and his escort, the vigilante turned back towards the square where the chequered taxis were waiting to fly the passengers to any part of Metropolis.