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Intro!!

Hello everyone! I’m sharing a little series called fleuriste. Of course it’s going to be a Joe Keery fan fic!

For clarification I’m not the greatest of writers out there but I’m making myself spend time on each chapter so I can write it to the best of my abilities.

Once I figure out how to make a master list it will be down below

LOVE YOU ALL!

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Fleuriste

Chapter 1.

If you would like to be added to the list then comment down below!

Chapter 3.

link to chapter 4! - link to chapter 1!

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recap - They both thanked you before heading to the door. Wes was already out but Joe glanced over his shoulder one last time. 

The record player was still turning.

She was reaching for a broom that somehow still looked cute in her shop, unaware he looked back. 

For some reason, Joe had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time he’d walk through that little pink door. 

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Three days later.

Joe had walked past your shop every evening since Wes dragged him there. He didn’t even notice at first. 

The second time, he caught himself glancing through the window.

By the third, he was slowing down without meaning to.

Today was no different.

The familiar dusty pink storefront came into view down the calm street, warm light from the inside illuminating the pavement outside. There was an old couple outside the front, having a quiet conversation about peonies and how welcoming the ‘shop girl’ was. 

He kept walking past, head down.

Five steps later, he stopped.

“This is ridiculous” He muttered to himself.

He wasn't going back because of her. 

He just… wanted flowers.

For… 

His cat. 

Joe frowned. He didn’t even have a cat. He looked back at the shop.

“I’ll think of something.” Taking a deep breath, he turned around and pushed open the little pink door. 

The familiar bell chimed overhead. 

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You were organizing a shelf of plant food when the bell above the door chimed.

“Welcome to Fleuriste!” You called sweetly, your back still turned.

The footsteps stopped almost immediately. 

Frowning slightly, you turned around. 

Joe. 

From the other day.

“Oh!” A small smile spread across your face before you could stop it. “Hi. Joe, was it? Did your friend survive his anniversary?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I think so”

“Good.” You laughed. “I would have felt terrible if the flower hadn’t worked”

Silence settled between you two. 

The store was unusually quiet for two in the afternoon. Most people came in around lunchtime, leaving late afternoon for restocking shelves and sweeping up petals. This time it was some David Bowie filling the silence whilst neither of you knew what to say next. 

Joe shifted his weight slightly. 

“I’m here for some flowers”

You immediately brightened, brushing your hands down your floral apron before gesturing around the shop.

“Well, you're definitely in the right place. Who are you buying for and I can see if i can help”

He hesitated.

“My cat”

Your eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. It wasn't the strangest request you’ve ever had. Far from it actually.

You had two cats yourself and they'd spent plenty of afternoons batting leaves you’d accidently bought home. Maybe he wanted something nice to put near a sunny windowsill. Maybe…

“Awww, that's adorable,” You cooed, your lips forming into a tiny pout.

“What breed is she?”

Joe blinked.

“...Brown” 

You stared at him for a second. Breed. Brown. 

“Oh” You pressed your lips together to stop yourself from smiling “...okay”

You decided to not question it. 

“So what flowers were you thinking?”

“Lillies” He said with full confidence. 

You sucked in a small breath through your teeth. “Lillies?” You repeated, convinced you misheard him. 

“Yeah”

It's never your place to question a customer's choice. Then again, if he did genuinely have a cat, there was no way you could let him walk out the shop with some lilies. 

“Joe.” You started carefully, “Do you actually have lilies at home already?”

He frowned.

“Uh.. no”

You let out a small sigh of relief.

“Ok, good.” A nervous laugh escaped you. “Because lilies are… probably the worst flowers you could buy if you have a cat. They're incredibly toxic. Even a little bit of pollen can make them seriously ill.”

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Joe wished, more than anything, that the floor would simply open up beneath him. 

It seemed like such a good idea five minutes ago. 

Walk into the florist to see the pretty florist.

Buy flowers.

Leave.

Somewhere between opening the door and standing in front of her, his brain had apparently decided to take the afternoon off. 

A cat?

Really.

He didn't own a cat. He hadn’t owned a cat. As far as he was aware, nobody he knew owned a cat. 

Yet somehow he’d managed to invent one, give it a colour instead of a breed, and nearly buy it the single worst flowers imaginable. 

Smooth.

He cleared his throat, suddenly finding the display of succulents fascinating. 

“So…” He began, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hypothetically’

She folded her arms over her floral apron, a tiny smile threatening to appear. 

“Hypothetically?”

“Yeah… if someone planned on buying flowers for their brown cat, what would you recommend”

For a second, she simply looked at him. Then, much to his surprise, she laughed. 

Not loudly.

Just enough that the corner of her eyes crinkled. 

“I think…” she smiled, walking over to another display, “your completely real cat would be much happier with something like sunflowers. Or orchids. Or honestly…”

She glanced back over her shoulder “Nothing”

Joe laughed despite himself. 

“Yeah?”

“Maybe buy your cat a toy instead”

“That does sound slightly safer”

“Much safer”

The shop fell quiet again, yet this time the silence wasn't awkward. If anything it was comfortable. 

Joe couldn’t remember the last time he stood in complete silence with someone and hadn’t had the need to fill it. Neither of them seemed particularly bothered. She wandered a few steps away, absentmindedly returning bunches of flowers back into their buckets, gently brushing loose petals away from the counter as if she'd done it hundreds of times before. 

He watched her without really meaning to. 

The way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind hair ear every few minutes. 

The way she straightened ribbons that sat perfectly flat. 

The way she quietly hummed along to Davide Bowie playing through the old record player in the corner, unaware she was doing it. 

She looked… content.

There was something strangely calming about watching someone who genuinely loved what they did. 

The sharp chime of the bell above the door cut through the silence.

An older couple wandered inside, arms linked together as they slowly made their way around the shop. Their eyes travelled over the shelves before settling on a large ceramic planter balanced on the highest shelf along the back wall. 

“Oh!” The woman smiled, pointing towards it, “Excuse me, would it be possible to have a look at that one?”

She followed the woman's finger before letting out the smallest sigh to herself. 

“Of course.” She smiled warmly. “Just give me one second”

Joe frowned as she disappeared behind the counter. 

A minute later she returned holding a little wooden step stool that looked older than the shop itself. One of its legs wobbled slightly as she unfolded it behind the shelves. 

He looked at the stool.

Then at her.

Then back at the stall. 

“...Your djoking joking.”

She glanced over, confused.

“What?”

“You're actually going to climb that?”

She looked down at the stepstool as if she had never questioned it. 

“It works.”

“It looks like it has survived two world wars.”

“It has character” She defended

“It has a death wish.” Joe shot back.

For the first time since Joe had entered the store, she laughed properly. A soft, genuine laugh that filled the room for a second before she shook her head and placed her foot on the bottom step of the ladder. 

Before she could climb any higher, Joe was beside her in a second. His hands shot out wearily. He did not trust the 1960’s ladder with precious cargo and he wasn't talking about the ceramic planter.

“I’ve got it.”

She looked up at him, one hand still resting on the side of the ladder. 

“You don’t have to.”

“I know”

He smiled.

“Im just trying to be a gentleman”

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The couple thanked Joe for his help and were soon on their way with their nice new ceramic planted in hand. 

She took the planter's empty space on the shelf as an excuse to busy herself, straightening a row of ceramic pots that hadn’t needed fixing in the first place. 

“I appreciate that.” She said after a moment, keep her eyes on the shelf. “Not many customers volunteer to carry heavy things”

Joe slipped his hands into the back pockets of his jacket.

“I wasn’t really a customer”

She glanced over her shoulder, “No?”

“I never actually bought anything”

The corners of her mouth lifted but she shot him a ‘seriously?’ look

“I suppose you didn’t”

Another comfortable silence settled between them. She nudged one of the pots perfectly into line before letting out a soft sigh. 

“Honestly…” she murmured, almost to herself, ‘... you picked a good day to come”

Joe raised his eyebrows. “And why's that”

“It was quiet.” She shrugged. “If you come on a Tuesday, I wouldn't have time to stand here talking”

He frowned slightly. 

“Whats on Tuesdays?”

“Stock deliveries”

He followed her gaze to a room in the back that looked ready to be filled with more soil, plants and pots. 

“It’s always enormous” A small laugh escaped her. “Boxes everywhere. Half the shop disappears for a few hours”

She immediately seemed to realise she said more than necessary. 

“I don’t know why I told you that”

It was an easy thing for Joe to catch on to. Her shyness. But the way she managed to push it down when talking to customers… or even him. But climbed its way back up when she got too comfortable.

Joe smiled anyway.

“So Tuesdays are chaos”

She laughed quietly, “Complete chaos”

He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes lingering on her for a second longer than they probably should have. 

“I’ll come Tuesday then”

Her head shot up, eyes wide and confused.

“Pardon?”

“I’ll come Tuesday. I wouldn't hurt for some help. Would it?”

A faint warmth crept into her cheeks as she quickly reached for a bunch of eucalyptus that didn’t need rearranging (again). 

“No.. it wouldnt” 

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Can we see the excitment level building up...

Also let me know if they should go on a date next chapter (after tuesday) and if you want the chapters longer or shorter!

Chapter 2.

link to chapter 3! - link to chapter 1!

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recap - Voices drifted through the room as you reached for the brown wrapping paper. Two young men. One sounded more enthusiastic than the other. 

Just like that you were pulled back to reality as they were already asking you questions.

“So what flowers do girls not like?” 

When you looked up both men were staring directly at you. One with a more desperate face, a plea in his eyes. The other… he was admiring?  

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For a moment you simply looked at him. 

Out of every question you’ve been asked that week, somehow what flowers do girls not like? Had caught you most off guard.  

Your fingers loosened around the red ribbon you’d been tying as the corners of your mouth twitched into a smile. 

“There aren't really flowers girls don't like,” you admitted, brushing a stray petal from the counter. “Its more about who they’re for”

The taller one (not Joe) let out an exaggerated sigh. 

“Im finished”

You couldn't help but laugh quietly 

“I wouldn't go that far”

“I forgot our anniversary,’ he confessed, his expression already telling you he had accepted his fate. “So… I'm kind of relying on you here…” 

You rested your palms onto the wooden counter, your tiredness softening into amusement. 

“Thats quite a lot of pressure” 

“I know…”

“And what's her favourite flower?” 

“... I don't know”

You blinked. 

“You forgot your anniversary…”

He nodded.

“...And you don't know her favourite flower”

Another guilty nod. 

A laugh escaped before you could stop it, warm enough that it surprised even you. It had been hours since anything today had even made you smile. 

From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the quieter man. 

He still hadn’t spoken. 

While his friend filled the silence with nervous jokes, he lingered a step behind, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket as his gaze wandered around the shop. Every so often he would stop to admire a bouquet or absent-mindedly brush his fingers over the petals of some tulips hanging from the wall. He looked far more interested in the little details rather than the flowers themselves. 

When your eyes met again, he didn’t look away.

Something about it made your stomach tighten maybe you were just hungry

Not in an overwhelming way. 

Just enough to make you aware of your slightly crooked name badge, you once perfectly blowout hair that definitely looks a bit rustled now, and the fact you probably smelt like flowers but the smell of soil definitely over took that. 

You quickly cleared your throat.

“Ok.” you said, reaching for a bucket of cream roses. “Lets see if we can save your relationship” 

Something about it made your stomach tighten (maybe you were just hungry)

Not in an overwhelming way. 

Just enough to make you aware of your slightly crooked name badge, you once perfectly blowout hair that definitely looks a bit rustled now, and the fact you probably smelt like flowers but the smell of soil definitely over took that. 

You quickly cleared your throat.

“Ok.” you said, reaching for a bucket of cream roses. “Lets see if we can save your relationship” 

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By the time the bouquet of red roses had been wrapped in brown paper and tied with a cream ribbon, it was completely dark outside. The Cocteau twins were now a distant noise in the back of the shop, and the two men had managed to catch your full attention. 

Wes was the tall one. The man who forgot his own anniversary. Despite his stupidity, he was rather nice, telling you all about his girlfriend while you worked. You could tell he hadn’t meant to forget by the look in his eyes as he talked. His face softened without him even realising. 

He was undeniably in love. 

The second man was Joe.

 You could swear you recognised him from somewhere, but you didn't bring it up. He seemed tired enough already. Throughout the last twenty minutes he’d simply followed Wes around the shop, occasionally stopping to look at a bouquet or quietly listening while the two of you spoke. Every now and then you’d catch him looking in your direction before quickly diverting his gaze. 

Now, they both stood in front of the counter whilst you calculated the price on the other side. 

“Thank you so much for your help. I might not have to sleep on the couch tonight,” Wes stated with his humour. 

You laughed softly. That made Joe's eyes perk up. 

After a minute of silence, Joe spoke up for the first time being in the shop. 

“Do you own the whole store?”

Immediately you looked up at him.

Actually looked at him.

 He stood calmly in a white tee and black pants, his hands shoved into the pockets of his brown jacket. His hair was styled in a slightly messy brown mullet, though most of it disappeared beneath the soft wool of his navy beanie. The tiredness you’d noticed earlier hadn’t gone away, but there was something warm about him. There was something about him that made him feel oddly familiar, despite never having met him before. 

Wes’s awkward cough brought you back to reality.

“Oh yeah! Sorry, yes I do. Just me” You mentally cringed. That may have been the most embarrassing sentence that has ever come out of your mouth. 

The corner of Joe’s mouth curled up into a small smile and he nodded. 

“Thats really cool”

“Thank you” You mumbled, quickly got back to perfecting the bouquet and spinning the card reader around for Wes. 

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Joe watched as she fussed over the ribbon again. It had already looked perfect. She still adjusted it anyway. 

For some reason, he couldn't stop watching the way her hands moved. Every fold was neat, every stem was perfectly tucked into place and every petal was perfectly presented as though she’d wrapped the same bouquet a thousand times before. There was something oddly calming about it. 

Wes was busy fishing his bank card out of his wallet, leaving the shop in a comfortable silence. 

Joe once again got distracted by the shop. To him, it didn’t look like ‘just a shop’. It looked like a home, the heart of a girl who really liked flowers. He managed to notice the little things. 

Hand written price tags tied to glass jars with twine. Pressed flowers framed on the walls. Tiny piles of dried petals scattered on the floor that she would probably sweep away once they left. A faded polaroid tucked into the corner of the till with two cats curled into each other fast asleep. 

His eyes drifted back to her. 

She was still looking down at the bouquet, smoothing a crease in the brown paper nobody else would have noticed. The little name badge pinned to her cardigan caught the light for a second. 

He repeated it silently in his head.

It suited her. 

“Ready?” Wes asked, lifting the bouquet with a grin. 

Joe blinked, almost forgetting why they were here in the first place. 

“Yeah.” 

They both thanked you before heading to the door. Wes was already out but Joe glanced over his shoulder one last time. 

The record player was still turning.

She was reaching for a broom that somehow still looked cute in her shop, unaware he looked back. 

For some reason, Joe had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time he’d walk through that little pink door. 

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I promise the next chapter will be more exciting and they'll interact some more! Chapter 3 will come some time today because it feels unfair leaving it on this. Thank you so much for the likes and comments on my last post, it means a lot!

Chapter 1.

link to chapter 2!

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Wes agreed to give Joe a ride home under one condition: he helped him pick out flowers for his girlfriend. 

‘Because there is nothing I'd rather be doing right now than look at flowers while some old lady behind the counter tells me her life story” Joe rolled his eyes as he slid into the passenger side of Wes’s car. 

A long day at the studio should’ve ended one way.

Sofa.

Takeaway. 

Some boring documentary about whales or shipwrecks that Netflix decided people cared about this week. 

Then sleeping. 

Nothing beats sleeping. 

Instead, he was stuck helping Wes buy flowers. Apparently forgetting an anniversary meant everyone else had to suffer too. 

“It's not that bad,” Wes said. 

“It is.”

“It’s ten minutes. You will live.”

“Ten minutes of flower shopping,” Joe grumbled under his breath.

Wes laughed and pulled out of the studio parking lot. 

Joe sank lower into his seat, staring out of the window at the sitting sliding past. He could already feel himself getting annoyed on behalf of his future self, who should’ve been horizontal by now. 

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Ten minutes later, Joe was standing on a quiet street of Manhattan wondering why he agreed to this. It would've been quicker to walk home. 

“This is it?” he questioned, looking up at the storefront.

 He hated to admit it, but the place was actually quite nice. 

The exterior was painted a soft dusty pink. The kind of pink that probably had an annoyingly specific name that nobody else knew. A green-and-white striped awning stretched over the front window and flower buckets spilt onto the pavement beneath it. 

Warm light glowed from the glass. This whole thing looked like it belonged in one of those romance novels people cried about on the subway. 

“Just come in, man,” Wes said, already pushing open the door. 

“Yeah, yeah”

A soft bell chimed above them as they entered.

The smell hit Joe first.

Fresh flowers, damp stems, soil. 

It was strangely calming, not that he would ever admit that out loud. 

Wes immediately disappeared in search of the perfect bouquet for his girlfriend, leaving Joe to trail behind with all the enthusiasm of a hostage. 

Joe let his gaze drift around the shop. Buckets of flowers crowded every corner. Roses, peonies, hydrangeas and at least ten other things he couldn't name. Somewhere in the back he could hear the crackle of a record player, filling the room with music just loud enough to hear. 

It didn’t feel like just a shop. 

It felt lived in.

Joe glanced towards the counter to see if the expected old lady had seen him yet. 

Oh

His eyes flicked back a second time before he could stop them. 

Well, that definitely wasn’t an old lady 

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Three bouquets. Two centrepieces. One woman who’d spent nearly twenty minutes deciding between ivory or cream roses despite them looking the exact same. It's been a long day. 

The shop had officially closed fifteen minutes ago, but there were still stems to trim, buckets to empty and tomorrow's orders still to prepare. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, before reaching for another rose, your slightly crooked name badge catching against the sleeve of your cardigan. 

You’d meant to straighten it hours ago but never got round to it. 

The opening notes of Heaven or Las Vegas by the Cocteau Twins drifted slowly from the record player tucked away near the back of the shop. The familiar crackle of the vinyl blended in with the quiet snip of your pruning shears, filling the silence in a way that made the shop feel cozy again. You had listened to the album enough times today that you could probably recite the order of every song, but still… you could never get tired of it. 

Normally, you didn't mind talking to customers. Hearing about people's backstories to the reason they were a customer was rather interesting and cute. Birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, or just a ‘i love my partner’ moment. That one reminded you how deeply single you were. 

But today you couldn't do it, it seemed your social battery had disappeared at around lunchtime. Your feet ached, shoulders sore, neck strained. Nothing in you could bring you to force a sweet smile, the welcoming ‘customer service’ voice or wander around the store with some man for him to end up picking the bouquet of red roses at the front. All you wanted to do was close the store and head home to your two cats. 

The ding of the entrance bell pulled you from your zoned out state. 

You resisted the urge to sigh. 

Keeping your eyes fixed on the bouquet in front of you, you carefully tied a red ribbon around the stems, hoping whoever just walked in already knew what they wanted. Maybe they wanted the generic red rose and then they'd be on their merry way. Maybe they wouldn't need any help at all.

You knew they would. 

Nobody's an expert in flowers except for you which you do pride yourself in

Voices drifted through the room as you reached for the brown wrapping paper. Two young men. One sounded more enthusiastic than the other. 

Just like that you were pulled back to reality as they were already asking you questions.

“So what flowers do girls not like?” 

When you looked up both men were staring directly at you. One with a more desperate face, a plea in his eyes. The other… he was admiring?  

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Um yeah. How did we like it? Anything I should change or recomendations for my writing?

Anyways, love you guys, dont forget to smile!