Chapter Text

Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I.

Edwin Paine is many things. Intelligent, blond, a talented baker. Presently, he is mostly just pissed. Leave it to Crystal to demand he show up at her office at six o’clock on a Tuesday evening with no further explanation or room to negotiate. While Edwin deeply appreciated Crystal, both as a friend and a business partner, this is truly outrageous behavior. He has a life, after all.

“Thank you for coming,” Crystal says when Edwin enters her office. After she started her own wedding planning company, Crystal had moved into a small space just off of Main Street, where Edwin’s own shop is. The walk is no hassle, but, really, Edwin is annoyed by her vagueness. Vagueness with Crystal usually means she had committed a crime, or is going to ask a favor.

Edwin suspected the latter.

“Please, take a seat,” Crystal says formally, and as if they had not been friends for the past half decade. “Our other member will be joining us shortly, then we can start.”

It must be the American in her, making her so frustratingly nondescript. All that copy and paste suburban housing and characterless interior design.

Edwin refuses to deign her with a response, instead raising one thin eyebrow at her. Crystal simply turns back to her computer, and Edwin lets out a little huff. Really, he has three orders he could be working on right now– or, at the bare minimum, he could be giving his apartment a much needed clean. He had been pushing it off for days, now.

A moment later, the door opens, and a man steps in. Charles Rowland. He is tall and seemingly slender, though his many layers of clothing hide his frame. His hair falls in his face, less in an intentionally stylistic way, and more in a ‘I can’t be bothered to care’ manner.

Edwin is quite familiar with Charles Rowland. He doesn’t have much of an opinion on the man – well, that’s not quite true. Edwin respects Charles’ work in the floral industry, and Edwin thinks he is rather beautiful. However, Edwin has yet to maintain an actual conversation with Charles, so he has yet to form a proper opinion on the man.

“Hi, Crystal!” Charles says, grinning at her. He sits next to Edwin. “Edwin, good to see you,” he greets.

“Likewise,” Edwin replies, before turning tightly to Crystal. He looks at her expectantly.

From the other side of the desk, Crystal leans forward. Her hands are clasped on top of the desk, and she has her “selling” face on. Edwin was right then, she is going to ask for a favor.

“Now, as you two know, last year, I started my own company,” Crystal begins. “Immediately, I reached out to you two prominent business owners in our town’s community. Plus, every wedding needs flowers–” she smiles at Charles winningly, “–and, well, you can hardly get married without a cake.” She looks at Edwin, who stares back, unimpressed. He is very well acquainted with her life story, and it is hardly worth his time to listen to her recount it. “Now, well, since I’m still establishing myself, I’m very hesitant to argue with a guest, you see.”

Edwin gives Crystal a once over. Where is this going?

“And, well, the bride I’m working with right now, she wants a floral cake.”

“Um,” Charles says, “Okay?”

Edwin sits forward, crossing his legs. “Hold up a tick, what exactly does she mean, a floral cake?”

“That’s the thing,” Crystal says, pursing her lips. “She wants the cake to be flower flavored, but she wants it to be flavored by actual flowers. Like, she wants flower petals in the cake. Then, of course, she wants flowers incorporated in the cake’s decor.”

“That is the stupidest idea I have heard all day,” Edwin says immediately. “I’m not doing that.”

Charles shifts. “Where do I come in, in all of this?”

“You’d be in charge of supplying the flowers and making sure they look pretty,” Crystal says. “You know, your job.”

Edwin laughs dryly. “Crystal, that’s a ridiculous request and you know it. I do custom cakes, not gardening.”

Crystal closes her eyes tightly. “Don’t hate me,” she says, which is always a very comforting thing to hear, “But I may have already told her it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Fucking hell, Palace,” Edwin groans, rubbing his hand through across his face. “You are going to be the death of me.”

“Crystal,” Charles says lightly, “I don’t know if I can supply edible flowers. That isn’t my specialty.”

Crystal looks up at the boys with wide, desperate eyes. “Please? If I tell her it is not possible anymore, she’ll have my head.” She looks between them. “Charles, you know flowers better than anyone, like, ever. You literally have a degree in botany, like a fucking nerd.”

“Flatter a man, won’t you?” Charles mumbles, and Edwin bites back a laugh.

“And, Edwin,” Crystal continues, “You can bake anything. You baked me a cake that looked and tasted like an apple pie, Edwin. You can bake a floral cake.”

Edwin folds his arms across his chest. He knows he is capable of making the cake, but it will take far more work than he normally puts into his cakes. He would also have to work with another person, a person he is not particularly well acquainted with, for that matter.

After a long second, Charles speaks. “Look, I’m willing to do it, if Edwin is,” he says slowly, “But, it’ll cost you, Crystal.”

“Not a problem,” Crystal says immediately. “I warned her it would be expensive. But, frankly, she’s fucking rich, so it won’t be an issue.”

They both look at Edwin. Well, this was hardly fair: the pressure from an attractive near-stranger, combined with Crystal’s begging.

Charles gives him a strange look. “Fine, I’ll do it,” Edwin groans.

“Great!” Crystal says, grinning. “Just one more thing, she wants macarons on it, too. A lot of them. Floral ones.”

“Right, well, fuck me sideways,” Edwin says poshly.

Edwin glances at Charles through the corner of his eye. He’s staring amusedly at the duo, as if Edwin’s imminent pain is amusing. Making macarons is an absolute bitch to do, and Edwin has already got to worry about the Chelsea order and the Simons – not to mention the Greenwood’s, which Edwin has not even started on.

“Next order with macarons gets the frozen Costco kind,” Edwin threatens. He would never actually do that, those macarons aren’t even worth eating, but dear Lord, Edwin hates making macarons.

“That’s perfectly reasonable,” Crystal agrees. “Now, the wedding is June fifteenth–”

Charles gasps audibly. “You’re joking; that’s in one month.”

Crystal cringes. “It’s last minute, I know–”

“Crystal, last minute is a four month heads up. Last minute is you calling me the night before your aunt’s birthday and asking for a cake. Last minute is most certainly not in one month.” Edwin takes a deep breath. “I can’t do that, Crys.”

“I–” Crystal looks at her lap. “I know. I know, it’s so, so bad. It’s a really last minute wedding– the mom of the bride could barely stop them from eloping, and so she’s just trying to throw everything together as fast as possible, and it’s just a right mess.” She looks close to tears. Edwin cannot stand Crystal crying. He might very well just give in if she starts crying. She better not start crying.

“It’ll be alright,” Charles says, “We can figure it out, right, Edwin?” He gives Edwin such a sharp look that Edwin cannot help but to wonder if Crystal and Charles are more than friends. He knows they went on one date but it didn’t feel right, and now they were friends. Maybe that one date had actually panned out?

Edwin bites his inside lip. There isn’t a single way in hell he can pull this off.

Luckily, Edwin does not believe in the afterlife, so hell isn’t a concern of his.

“Right,” Edwin agrees before he can stop himself, “We can figure it out. You really do not need to cry. Plus, your mascara is not waterproof.”

Crystal presses her palms against her eyes and takes a shaky breath. “Yeah,” she says watery, “I remember when you wore it to ‘Into the Woods’ and started bawling at the end, and it got everywhere–”

“That,” Edwin hisses, looking at Charles quickly, “Is not a memory we need to be advertising, Crystal.”

Crystal has the decency to look a tad guilty.

“I’m really sorry, guys,” Crystal mumbles. “I know I’m screwing up your lives.”

Edwin takes a breath. “It’s no matter.”

“We’d do anything for you, Crystal,” Charles adds.

Edwin takes a second to properly look at Charles, beyond his general appearance. Smile lines are already forming at the edges of his eyes, even though he can’t be older than Edwin. His hands are visibly calloused and hold on to the railings of his chair casually. He looks perfectly relaxed, even though his eyes are a vision of concern.

Oh, Edwin also notes that he is dreadfully attractive. That bit is a touch hard to miss.

Crystal smiles at the two. “Thank you guys so much.”

“Don’t mention it,” Charles says.

“Oh, she better mention it,” Edwin quips. “I’ll be bringing this up at Friday dinners for at least the next year.”

Crystal groans. “I went to your cousin’s wedding with you back in August, can’t this be you repaying me?”

Edwin stares at her, deadpan. “You had to put on a dress and smile for two hours. It takes me more than two hours to make the macarons.”

“I know, I know,” Crystal cringes, “I owe you.” She looks at Charles, and adds: “Both of you.”

Charles nods. “I’ll certainly take an IOU.”

“Now,” Edwin says, “Did the bride specify a type of floral she wants?”

Crystal shakes her head. “Nope. Anything floral, but she wants it all natural flavoring. So, no lavender extract.”

“Not even a little?”

“Nope.”

Edwin sighs. “This is going to be a bitch.”

“Yep,” Charles says, smiling at Edwin. Of course, the asshole even has an attractive smile. “Nice to formally meet you, Edwin Paine.”

Edwin and Charles plan to meet up to talk about flowers on Wednesday at five, in Charles’ flower shop. It’s right after he closes, so he’s finishing ringing up a final customer when Edwin enters.

The first thing Edwin notices is that there is an abundance of things in the room. Flowers cover every surface, and where there aren’t flowers, there’s ribbons for flowers, or inspirational signs, or books about flowers. It’s awfully chaotic, and Edwin takes a liking to it immediately.

“Have a nice night,” Charles says to the customer.

“You too,” they say, leaving. The bell rings, announcing their exit.

Charles turns to Edwin. His cheeks are flushed slightly. “Hi,” Charles says.

“Hi,” Edwin replies.

“Ready to talk business?”

Edwin nods. Charles pulls a tray and two stools out from behind the cash register, setting them in front of a table. It would not be considered clear by anyone else’s standards, but comparatively, there was at least space for Charles to set his tray on it. From this angle, Edin can see that inside the tray is a dozen cups with different flower petals in each one.

“So,” Charles begins. “Your options are rose, hibiscus, elderflower, calendula, lilacs, carnations, marigolds, chamomile, or lavender,” Charles lists. “If you really, really want, I can order some marigolds or sunflowers, but those’ll take some time to deliver.”

Edwin blinks. “I only know the taste of half of those.”

Charles laughs kindly. “Here, you can try them,” he says, gesturing to the tray. “That’s what they’re here for.” Edwin pulls out a small cup with an unrecognizable flower. “Elderflower,” Charles identifies.

“Bottoms up,” Edwin says with a slight smile. He picks a petal up, then pops it in his mouth. A fruity, almost tropical flavor fills his mouth. It is surprising, though two years of culinary school should have taught him that things rarely taste as they seem. There’s also hints of pear, he notes after a second. Not an unpleasant aftertaste, either. “Certainly a contender,” he says. Then, “You can just remove the chamomile, though. I worry it will just remind them of tea.”

Charles nods and pulls out the chamomile tin. He pops the flower into his mouth and smiles unabashedly at Edwin. “It’d just go to waste otherwise,” he says.

“What?”

Charles raises an eyebrow at Edwin. “Well, I put them aside for you. I hardly have a large array of people coming, asking to taste test flowers.”

Edwin’s cheeks flush. “It’s– I didn’t ask to taste test, you actually just decided to–”

“I’m teasing,” Charles says, drawing out the vowel. Then, “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“Wh– you know, I– um, no, I, um,” Edwin stammers. Why the fuckity fucking hell was this man calling him cute?

Immediately, Charles holds his hands up in surrender. “I was teasing you again,” he says. “Well, I was being honest, but I was also teasing you.”

Edwin’s cheeks flush. “This is hardly professional of you.”

“If you’re uncomfortable, I’m happy to stop,” Charles says, “Really.”

Edwin stares at the flower tray, silent. He shifts in his seat. He can practically feel Charles’ eyes burning into his skin. “Can I try the calendulas?” He asks, still looking pointedly away from Charles.

“‘Course,” Charles says, a smirk playing in his voice. But, he does not compliment Edwin again, so Edwin figures he has let the moment pass.

Calendulas are bitter. They are not bad, per se, but Edwin has never really liked a bitter tasting cake, so he disregards them. If he is going to make a cake in a month, he’s damn well going to make a cake he likes.

“Y’know,” Charles says, after Edwin has tried every flower, even the ones he is already familiar with, “I always hated lavender.”

Edwin stares at Charles. “How can you hate lavender? You are literally a florist.”

“The scent is just so strong!” Charles defends, smiling with his eyes. “It overwhelms the senses.”

“Then clearly you haven’t had a well made lavender desert.” Every anti-social instinct in Edwin’s bones screams at him to shut up, that they do not need to be making conversation. But, his inability to leave well enough alone wins out, and he adds on: “You should visit the south of France. They have the most incredible lavender there. I am positive you could find something you like there.”

Charles raises an eyebrow. “Positive, are you?”

“Quite.”

“Well, I’m sure you could make something far better than those twats.”

Edwin bites back an offended gasp. “Those so-called ‘twats’ reinvented the use of lavender, both in a culinary and artistic manner, you bonehead,” he snaps.

“Yeah, but you’re Edwin Paine,” Charles replies.

Edwin blinks. “Exactly.”

“Exactly!”

“You’re not making sense,” Edwin says, rolling his eyes.

Charles rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying, you make American style cakes with buttercream icing. The French could learn a thing or two from you.”

Edwin scoffs, “The French represent the peak of pastry baking–”

“Are you really arguing with me that you are a worse baker than I think you are?” Charles asks innocently.

“Well you’re being stupid,” Edwin replies, “So, yes.”

Charles laughs. “You are a marvel of this world, Edwin Paine.”

“Why do you keep saying my full name?”

“Why are you being a pain about it?”

Edwin blinks. “Was that a pun?”

“Maybe?”

Edwin’s deadpan expression lasts about fifteen seconds, before he has to turn away to cover his laughter. Charles notices, no doubt, but like a true gentleman, does not comment.

Edwin and Charles talk a bit longer –mostly about flowers, a bit about other things. By the end, Edwin decides he will make samples of lilac and elderflower, rose and hibiscus, lavender, and marigold and calendula, which proved edible when paired with another flower. He would prepare a small amount of each cake type, and prepare a cake test for the bride. Whichever flavor combinations she likes best will go.

“We do still have to worry about the cake design, and supporting the weight of flowers,” Edwin says, as Charles’ packs up his tin of flowers.

“Flowers aren’t all that heavy,” Charles says, “Surely even a baker knows that.”

Edwin rolls his eyes. “I would usually pair a floral cake with a lighter cake, like a genoise. Depending on how extravagant the flowers are, though, the weight may prove too heavy, and the genoise would crumble…” Edwin ponders, biting at his bottom lip.

“Alternatively, fuck those years of cullinary school and make up your own shit,” Charles suggests, smiling at Edwin as he leans against the countertop.

“Wow, Charles, what a brilliant idea,” Edwin deadpans. He shakes his head, smiling. He has enjoyed himself, almost too much, chatting with Charles. “I should be going,” he says.

Charles nods, and walks Edwin to the door. “You good to go home by yourself?”

“Seeing as I have been doing it for the past six years, yes, Charles, I am.”

Charles steps back, smiling. “Was just checking.”

“How gentlemanly of you.”

“Call me old fashioned.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll be calling you at all,” Edwin quips.

Charles smirks. It’s devious enough to make Edwin shift. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to give you a good reason to call, won’t I?” He leans in, and for a split second, Edwin thinks Charles is going to kiss him. Instead, he sort of examines Edwin’s face. Then, Charles pulls away abruptly. His demeanor doesn’t change, but his expression is soft. “Gnite, Edwin.”

“Good night, Charles.”

Edwin leaves, swinging his messenger bag over his shoulder. As he walks home, he can’t help but to think of Charles, flowers, and weddings.