ᴾʰᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ

plant boy

i haven't updated in almost a week?
guess which dumbass figured out this bold text thing? me!
idk whether to write more smut or fluff bc i have over 100 reads but no votes or comments. yay me !!
but um thanks?
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Summary: Phil has always loved plants and flowers, and he'd never thought he'd be able to fully share his passion with someone who truly understood it.
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The warm glow of the sun heated the day; the rain showers of the early morning had subsided allowing for an afternoon outside. Small hands clumsily slid on a pair of wellies, eager to go out and play. Heeding his mother's silent warning, arms reach from their tip toes to grab his favorite purple jumper before bounding outside into the garden. A small smile followed as little legs crouched down to feel the moist grass and soil.
Most people would argue that children just liked to get dirty. They play in the mud only for the sake of tracking prints throughout clean for floors. However the boy before you, fingers shoveling and packing soil was not playing but rather living. The tiny green leaves and sprouts were his only interest. He'd spent so much time watching both his parents and grandparents plant beautiful flowers and grow their very own fruits and vegetables. The universe of plants had become as much as him as his heart and lungs were. In fact, the boy's mother was convinced that leaves would start growing out of his ears.
Even though he was only nine years old, there was something about plants that were just for him. He just always got this indescribable giddiness that his parents could only call young wonder but he knew it was more than that. All he wanted to do was talk about plants and share it with whoever was curious enough to listen.
"Why are you playing in the dirt?" the the brown-haired boy from across the street asked curiously.
"I'm not playing; I'm gardening," Phil responded, dusting his hands off.
"But you were talking to the flowers?"
Phil nodded pridefully, "They're my friends. They like it when I talk to them."
"I want to be friends with the flowers too." the younger boy pouted.
"Okay! What's your name?"
"Dan," he replied in a quiet voice as he took a seat next to Phil.
"Hi Dan, I'm Phil. This is Jane, Sarah, Timothy, and his sister Tina," Phil said, gesturing to the plants in front of them.
"Hi," Dan chimed with a wave and giggle. "I feel silly," he mumbled, tugging on Phil's shirt.
"Don't! They like you already!" Phil exclaimed confidently.
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Contentment was the state he'd grown himself into, and valued was how he felt. He'd found his roots in a companion that was the embodiment of the soil: nurturing and everlasting. Phil's really not sure how it happened, but somewhere along waiting for the seasonal plants to bloom together, they found each other and never parted ways. 
Dan and Phil shared a common quest for a peaceful garden as a way of living. It was baked in the sunlight and had an overgrowth of something that belonged to them. It was quiet yet they understood one another. Tending to each plant was a daily, and slow process, but Dan knew that was how Phil liked it.
Mismatched socks artfully traverse the floor, carefully stepping over and around pots, leaves, petals, and hanging baskets. The mostly green scene stood before long legs in a room with large windows that had ample amounts of sunlight streaming through.  A soft aroma of coffee drifted its way into the senses, leading him away from his work.
"Good morning Phil, good morning succulents," Dan greeted, holding two mugs of coffee. He gave Phil a peck on the cheek as he watered a potted hydrangea.
"Good morning sweetheart," Phil replied with a grin.
"How long have you been in here today?" Dan asked, skimming over Phil's checklist of plants that needed watering.
"Not too long, but I could use your help while I take a break," Phil said.
"As if you even need to ask," Dan giggled. As they made the switch of a mug for a watering can, Phil's fingers graced over his knuckles, giving Dan that feeling he gets whenever he gets a chance to listen to Phil ramble about his knowledge of flowers. The same dazed feeling Dan gave Phil when he would gaze with interest and pure admiration while he talks. Just some of the many gestures and sentiment that have stayed with them after all of these years spent together.
"Don't forget about the Asters," Phil advised with a slight nod towards the pot, sipping his coffee.
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"Oh!" Dan and Phil exclaimed, cheeks reddening.
"You can use the trowel first," Dan blushed, hand still tingling from where Phil's had brushed up against it.
"Sorry," Phil chuckled nervously. "So what did you want to plant?"
"Just some Asters," Dan said shyly.
"Why Asters?" Phil asked as he made a plot for them.
"I've just always thought they were pretty neat," Dan shrugged.
"Well, you're pretty neat too," Phil added.
"I just wanted to say thank you for letting me garden with you for all of these years. I know I'm not very good but I like this a lot."
"I'm glad. I enjoy your company a lot," Phil admitted with a sheepish grin. "It feels good to not be that 'lonely plant freak' anymore."
"But that's exactly what you are." Dan chuckled as Phil playfully nudged him. "Take pride in what you love. You're a plant fanatic, and I think we've got a pretty sick garden growing here," Dan commented as he handed Phil the Asters.
"And it's only going to get better," Phil confirmed as he planted the flowers.
The two of them packed the soil around the flowers together, unsure of how to speak what was on their minds and in their blushes and little glances. At the time, they were too naive to see the sheer strength of the bond they shared; one coiled with tendrils, littered with petals, leaves, and all of the colors they experienced with one another.
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"They say Asters are symbolize of patience and love," Dan mused as he watered the plant. "What do you think?
"I think that sounds right," Phil confirmed, pecking Dan's cheek.