LGBTQ Fairytales

A Shy Florist

Warning, Spanish and Italian phrases. Don't worry tho, there's always a translation in brackets.
<3

Not many customers have visited the shop that day. It was a calm and peaceful Thursday as usual. Until that one stupid moment when the bell above the door rang. The one stupid moment when the most charming man in the world walked in so casually as if he owned the place.

Chris, who was almost laying on the counter while reading a few days old Vogue, thought that it was just another ordinary customer.

"Chi osa interrompere la mia pace, eh? Merda," he muttered quietly while putting the Vogue away. (translation: Who dares interrupt my peace, eh? Shit)

"I first wanted to ask why a Spanish florist reads a Vogue, but now I want to ask what an Italian does in Madrid."

Chris froze, looked at the customer, his eyes wide, and he dropped his jaw. The man was tall, blonde, beautiful, slightly tan, his eyes the perfect shade of green.

And his voice, oh Dios mío, his voice is so... And that British accent, thought Chris. (translation: my god)

"W-well, I came here to study and then I decided to stay. ¿Y tú? ¿Qué hace un inglés en una floristería en Madrid?" (translation: And you? What does an English man do in a flower shop in Madrid?)

"Me gustaría comprar una bonita flor para mi hermana." (translation: I want to buy a pretty flower for my sister.)

"Vale, and for what occasion?"

"Su cumpleaños, she's eight." (translation: Her birthday)

"Ah bien, entonces tengo una flor perfecta. Ven conmigo, I'll show you." (translation: Well, then I have a flower that is just perfect. Come with me)

He quickly walked into the maze of flowers, decorative trees, and herbs, carefully dodged an enormous cactus in the middle of an alley and stopped in front of a huge flowerpot, from which the most beautiful yellow pansies grew in all directions, free and wild and all happy.

"Well, that indeed is perfect. I'll take one," said the English man.

"¿Y cómo se llama tu hermana?" (translation: And what's your sister's name?)

Chris took a yellow card and a pink pen and started scribbling some words on it.

"Leslie, se llama Leslie." (translation: her name is)

Chris finished scribbling on the card and handed it over and began to carefully put one of the pansies in a lot smaller pink flowerpot with a yellow bow.

Meanwhile, the English man looked at the card that said:

Happy birthday to her majesty Leslie

And when he flipped the card over to see if there is anything on the other side, he found a note:

+34-755-5123 in case her majesty wishes more flowers

The English man chuckled and took out his phone to save the number.

"Aquí tienes la flor. ¿Algo más?" (translation: Here's the flower. Anything else?)

Chris reappeared, holding the neatly packed pansies, and took the card to place it on top.

"Sí, me gustaría saber tu nombre," said the English man. (translation: Yes, I'd like to know your name.)

"¿Mi nombre? ¿P-porque quieres mi nombre?" (translation: My name? Why do you want my name?)

"I simply find you cute and I want to ask you out," he said and smiled.