13:36Sunny Shop
Carnations associated with condolences. Right. Maybe she should get that—condolences for you to have to deal with her ass. Luna winces when she reads the following words of its meaning, saying it usually means funeral arrangements about lasting friendship. She doesn't read more, her thumb swipes to scroll down on her phone and skip this flower altogether.
Chrysanthemum comes next, her gaze tracking and admiring the flower. This is a pretty one.... But then she grimaces at its meaning about sympathy and grief placed on graves. She shakes her head vigorously and decides that maybe picking another site would be wise.
So that's what she does—
"Excuse me," the florist tilts their head with a bemused, if a bit confused, smile at the counter where they're standing.
Luna snaps her gaze up to the florist, remembering she was about to say what flowers she'd like but got lost while searching online for which ones had the best meanings that could convey everything she feels for you. With a charming smile and a hint of sheepishness, she reverts her phone, screen facing the florist.
"Sorry, I was just looking for the best ones for my darling," she confesses lightly, one elbow leaning against the counter as she lowers her phone to scroll again through the phone. "Do you know their meanings?"
"Not of every flower, I'm afraid," the florist chuckles, their shoulders relaxing, understanding dawning on them. "Roses are pretty popular for Valentine's Day, though I presume that's not exactly what you're searching for?"
Luna stares at her screen, licking her bottom lip and trapping it with her teeth, the gears behind her gray eyes churning. Locking her phone upon noticing she's being rude, she straightens her back and pockets her phone. She wants tonight to be special for you two, she wants to show off her romantic side and spoil you and make you laugh and cuddle with you and spoil you again and—
"Um," the florist tries to catch her attention, clearing their throat for good measure.
"Sorry, sorry," Luna apologizes once again, running a hand through her hair and finally declaring, "Can you give me everything that means love, hope, and gratitude, please? And when I say everything, I'm being serious."
She doesn't even know how the hell she succeeded in forgetting what day it is today. She was so busy with work and busy being too engrossed in enjoying her time with you that it slipped her mind entirely. And the fact that you're not the type to bring up special days like this one, specifically for her not to waste anything on you, doesn't help at all.
Thank god she was reminded of today with everything around that screams Valentine's Day with couples walking together, flowers being given, discussions about it. She's not that late; you two still have the afternoon to enjoy this special day together.
You're probably still sleeping anyway. With the long night you spent just talking about all and nothing, letting yourselves talk all night without worrying about work the next day, bantering when she teased you about your eyes getting red with exhaustion with her dimple popping out.
Now that she thinks about it, she should bring you breakfast. Or lunch? She'll get both on her way home so you can pick one of them.
"Here we go," the florist's voice bursts her bubble, holding out a bouquet filled with gorgeous flowers of different colors barely managing to fit the florist's hand.
But that's not what Luna wants.
She studies the bouquet, tilting her head on one side, followed by her upper body, then the other side. She shakes her head. That's not nearly enough of what she wants for you. It doesn't even translate half of the warmth and love you kept pouring into her heart, bordering on overflowing it more times than she can count.
"That won't do," Luna announces with a more serious expression, her brows furrowed and gray irises staring harder at the bouquet as if they personally offended her.
The florist seems to be completely out of their depth, blinking owlishly at the curious personage that is Luna. Luna, for her part, doesn't pick up on the increasing awkwardness or how the florist is starting to have a hard time understanding what she wants. "I beg your pardon?"
"Is that everything you had, like I requested?" Luna inquires gently instead of answering.
"It's not," the florist smiles, humoring Luna despite the mounting confusion on display across their features. "But giving more would mean emptying half of the boutique, plus, you won't be able to carry it all."
"Could you tell me each flower you put in this bouquet? I'll have other shops deliver it to my house," Luna continues, already pulling out her phone to unlock it and click on a contact before waiting for the florist's list.
The confused person across from her parts their lips in disbelief and slight hurt crossing their face before they school it back to politeness. "So you won't take this bouquet?"
Luna blinks at them, her frown deepening. Now, why would she waste this bouquet that would mean more for you? That's such an absurd thing to say or to even think. But then, she grins, dimple making an appearance, "What do you mean? I'm taking everything here and from every shop willing to give me every exact flower I'll buy here."
Ten minutes pass. Then twenty. Then thirty.
Your eyes flutter open when you smell the pleasant scent of flowers but also enticing food. And when you sit up, Luna is already sitting at your feet with the biggest, most ridiculous grin you've ever seen plastered across her face.
"Morning, sleepyhead," she greets, voice warm and still with that unforgettable mischievous lilt. Her gray eyes track your movement as you blink away the remnants of sleep, trying to process the chaos that has invaded your shared bedroom.
Flowers. Everywhere.
Your gaze sweeps across the room to admire the infestation of flowers every way you look. Roses in deep reds and soft pinks, tulips in vibrant yellows, lilies with their white petals, and so many others you can't even begin to identify. The colors blend together when it shouldn't work with so many differences, but somehow it does as it fills every available surface with blooms.
"Luna," you start, voice barely audible from sleep, "what the hell—"
"I may have gone a little overboard," she admits, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly, though the grin never disappears as the warmth keeps filling her features. "But in my defense, I forgot what day it was until this morning, and I had to make up to you for forgetting."
You stare at her, then at the flowers, then back at her. "A little overboard?"
"Okay, a lot," she concedes, laughing as she smoothly crawls on the bed to move closer. Her hand reaches out once she's close to you, fingertips brushing against your cheek. "But you deserve it. Every single one."
Your eyes flutter at her touch, opening slowly to take another look at the room. That's when you see it, the takeout containers stacked on your nightstand, the smell of fresh pastries and something savory mixing with the floral perfume permeating the air.
She really did go all out.
"I got breakfast and lunch," Luna explains, following your gaze. "I wasn't sure what you'd want when you woke up, so I grabbed both. And before you say anything about wasting money—" She holds up a finger, cutting off your protest before it can form. "—today's special. Let me spoil you."
Her gray eyes soften, the playfulness giving way to something deeper, warmer. She leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, your temple, your cheek, your jaw.
She finishes with your lips in a tender kiss, that smile never wavering on her mouth as she whispers,
"Happy Valentine's Day, darling."