Keeping Shop
a Weiss Kreuz story
by Garnet
He was late, and Aya would not be pleased. Hurriedly dumping his books and tying on his apron as he made fast tracks downstairs to the florist shop, Omi flinched in preparation of the vicious glare and curt reproach he was sure to receive. It wasn't as if he'd expected to stay late, after all, but he was sure that this would do little to appease Aya's annoyance at him being late for his shift.
"S-sorry," he mumbled distractedly as he dove hastily behind the counter and surveyed with some dismay the swarm of women, and the occasional unhappy boyfriend that populated the store. "I had to stay after to finish a test."
To his surprise, the lean, red-haired man behind the register only levelled a small glare at Omi and muttered with an uncharacteristic weariness, "Just go help some of those customers." He probably would have liked it if Omi had darted some of the more obnoxious, squealing girls as well, the youngest Weiss member mused, but after squinting at their leader curiously for a moment, he decided that the less talk, the better, and skittered off to do as requested.
Sniffling sharply and indulging in a brief lull in the bustle of actual paying customers, Aya watched Omi retreat amongst the masses with some relief that he would never deign to show outwardly. Since the beginning of his shift his reserves of energy had been steadily sapped, and he was pleased that the kid had finally showed up to manage some of the workload, as well as dearly hoping that this...whatever it was wasn't going to amount to an actual illness.
Not, Aya noted darkly, that he cared to divulge these feelings to anyone. As far as the customers and his own little legion of fangirls could tell, the seemingly grouchiest of the florists had only developed even less patience than usual, along with a persistently resurfacing urge to sneeze at any little irritation in the air.
Speaking of which. Darting watering amethyst eyes towards the rest of the store to ensure that no flower-laden customer was headed this way, Aya ducked his head a little, beneath the shadow of his forelock, and drew a quivering breath. That fluttering tickle had been toying with him all day, at times culminating in a decidedly wet and barely stifled sneeze, and at other times only leaving him in agonizing anticipation.
"Hiht'schhh!"
Ugh. Fortunately that one had followed through, although he'd barely managed to pinch off the sound, and sniffled bitterly in its aftermath. That obnoxious twinge hadn't quite altogether abated, but as a young woman hesitantly approached with a small floral arrangement, he waylayed the sensation to ring her up.
"Do you...think this is appropriate for a baby shower?"
Using the 'ching!' of the register to mask his sigh, Aya replied, "Yes, the pastels are very fi--ihh...excuse me," he muttered distractedly as the prickle of irritation verged on him against his will, prompting the young man to turn into the crook of his arm and away from the customer with a harshly stifled, "Hischt! Hi'schh!" A quick sniff seemed to settle the matter for another few minutes at least. "Fitting."
The woman widened her eyes at him. "Goodness, I hope you're not allergic."
Holding off a groan as he accepted her money, Aya shook his head dismissively. That was the other bothersome part... so much sneezing had prompted the exact same response out of every customer who had been borne witness to it. He'd resisted the urge to snap that if he suffered from allergies or hayfever, he wouldn't work in a flower shop. Not that the pollen didn't get to him sometimes. "No, I'm not. Enjoy," he returned flatly, pushing the purchased arrangement back towards the woman who smiled vacantly and moved off.
And just in time. Snatching a tissue or two from the box beneath the counter, Aya stepped back and turned towards the far wall, muffling a final sneeze and indulging in a careful blow, ignoring any curious glances he received in the process.
From across the store, while busily explaining a fitting bouquet to a baffled young suitor, Omi watched Aya cautiously as he turned from the register and blew his nose quietly, a decidedly out-of-place action. At least, for Aya it was.
Keeping a cautious eye on the redhead as he went about his business, Omi observed at least three more wrenching sneezes and repeated noserubbings in the space of perhaps twenty minutes. At last, slinking back towards the counter, the smaller man piped up gently, but bravely.
"Do you have a cold, Aya?"
Sharply, the elder assassin's attention fell to Omi with another glare, albeit it was someone less effective given the watery state of his violet eyes, blinking as he raised his head from a bundle of tissues he'd been holding beneath his nose. "I...hii-ihh... Hih'tsst!" Whatever scathing reply he'd been about to make, it was sacrificed to make way for another set of sneezing, released in steady succession into the tissues at hand.
"Hih'scch! Hih'scht! Iht- SCHHH!" He tried half-heartedly to stifle them at first, though his resolve seemed to waver as each explosion seemed to bring about a stronger tickle, presenting him with the irresistable urge to sneeze it out. Not loud, precisely, but wet and hard. "Hih-- iihhshsh!!"
Even if Aya did recover himself quickly in the aftermath, refusing to display his symptoms any more than could be helped, that was all the agreement Omi required. "You can take a break, if you like?"
Another glare. He'd expected that. As another teenager approached the register, however, both turned to face her, one with a polite smile and one with mild irritation.
"Sorry, I'm ah... looking for something sort of...meaningful, for my sister, and I'm not sure where to begin, with colors and all."
At least relieved that she wasn't another giggling schoolgirl hanging about the shop purely for the sake of pestering them, Aya arched a brow. "What's the occasion?"
"She's in the hospital."
Omi's own brows furrowed now as he watched the corner of Aya's mouth draw down slightly. Nearly imperceptible, but to a man so usually devoid of expression except for the occasional bout of fiery rage, he betrayed a sort of sadness that was gone in the space of perhaps four seconds. Surely it wasn't out of passing sympathy to the customer?
As Aya launched into a brief synopsis of the benefits of warm, bright colors like yellows and oranges, and the symbolism of various flower species, Omi pondered this. After a few moments of explanation, however, he noted Aya's expression growing weak and, pained, the redhaired man angled himself away from the girl with a wavering breath.
"And Asiatic lillies are in sea--ihh...ex....excuse... hih'schhht!"
As Omi quickly intercepted to continue the explanation while Aya was indisposed, from the corner of his eye he watched the normally stoic Weiss member hide himself against his sleeve and release sneeze after desperate sneeze.
"Isshih! Hih-- schh!.... HihSCHHH!... HihSCHHHT! Hih-SCHTT! ... ngh. snff! Ih'sch!"
Finally seeming to get the girl on the right path without holding her hand every step of the way, Omi shooed her off gently despite a concerned look she threw towards Aya, and the younger Weiss member pivoted towards him.
"Listen, Aya..."
Crinkling his nose behind a fresh carnation of white tissues pressed into place, the assassin in question sniffed miserable and squinted one tearful eye open at Omi.
"You sound awful. Ken will be here in half an hour anyway, I can manage everything by myself until then. You should go lie down."
Lowering his brows in preparation for an irritable scolding, Aya hesitated, squeezed his eyes closed, and painfully stifled another jerking, "Hishht!" God, but this was getting irritating, and he was growing tired of the concerned glances in his direction. When at all possible, he would have preferred to sequester himself off somewhere private to sneeze out his irritation, but work was work.
Sniffling defeatedly and dropping the tissues into the wastebasket, Aya sighed. "If you're sure."
"Bah, all the girls are going home for dinner, anyway. I think there's some orange juice in the fridge if..." Omi trailed off as a look from Aya told him exactly how much he was permitted to concern himself. The answer was very little.
"All right. Snff!" He paused. "...Thank you." And in a bizarre display of outward affection, Aya reached across to ruffle the younger Weiss member's hair, almost brotherly. Just as quickly, he was untying his apron and ducking all too gratefully towards the stairs leading to their apartments, eager to escape the misery of a headcold in precious privacy and quiet.
He owed that kid one, later.
Wtf, I blame frack, over at Hypnos's forum, for me writing this.
Beware the lack of proofreading.