#synchrozy

He’d been flattered when his brother had asked him to not only be his best man but also handle the flowers for his wedding, James being the best man for the job apparently, in Riley’s own words, and, as the younger Australian pulls up outside the florists, leaves his car and enters, he can’t help but wonder if his brother was doing this to somehow torture him.

To say the man behind the counter looked like an uncouth heathen would be an understatement, but then he supposes that was why Riley had selected him as opposed to the flower shop owned by someone who looked more respectful such as Charléne Bonnefoy.

The florist looks like a delinquent, like a relic from the 50s that time forgot and left behind these past 70 years, James trying and failing to not visibly shudder, hoping the man was more pleasant to talk to than look at, for who in God’s name wore sunglasses inside in autumn?

This florist did, apparently.

“Are you going to keep staring at me with, what I assume to be, mild disgust or are you going to tell me what you need?”

Also American, James was beginning to feel more annoyed than flattered now, like his brother was doing this to wind him up more than anything. If that was how his older brother wanted to play then consider him childish as James planned to retaliate and play along in such a fashion that it wouldn’t spoil the wedding for his future Brother in Law.

Just because Riley was a moron, it didn’t mean he had to wreck things for Noah too.

“Yes, I believe my brother, Riley, got in contact with you over his wedding. My name is James Thompson, I’m here because he is hopeless and gave me the honour of dealing with you.”

“Well don’t I feel lucky.”

James shoots the man a dry look, biting back a lecture on the sarcasm before clearing his throat as the dark haired man stopped paying attention to him. He could lecture him on his abysmal customer service but then that would mean spending more time in the others presence, something the Australian wished not to do.

“I feel it appropriate that you give me your name in response so I know who I am dealing with.”

“Chris Jones, I’m currently completing an order so I can’t talk to you today, but here is my number just ring me tomorrow or something and we can organise something.”

He takes the paper once the American has finished scrawling on it, James noting it to be the most abysmal writing he’s ever seen, about on par with Riley’s before pocketing the paper and quickly turning on his heel and leaving without so much as a goodbye, not noticing the eye roll and mutter the florist let out.

James doesn’t get the weird thrill he gets from getting the others number, assuming it to just be down to the having a say in his brother’s wedding and nothing more, sitting in the driver’s seat of his car before shaking his head and driving off.

This was going to be a long few weeks.

---

They meet again in a coffee shop, a small thing that James had made a regular haunt whilst in university, having enjoyed the food, the drink and it’s aesthetic of looking expensive but being affordable for even those with the most run down bank balance. It was, by all means, the perfect place to satisfy both his need for class and his frugal nature.

He expects Jones to be late, their first meeting giving the impression he didn’t take much seriously and yet, when the Australian walks in he finds the dark haired man sat waiting for him, drink in hand and, surprise, surprise, still wearing those god awful shades. If he achieved anything from his working with this man, beside the flowers, it would be to get him to stop wearing the glasses or at least buy a decent pair.

“I didn’t know what you liked so I just got you a tea; you’re late by the way.”

“A Lord is never late, he arrives exactly when he’s needed.”  

“Lord, huh? More like Queen Primadonna.”

In all honesty, he’s not sure if he’s flustered in anger, embarrassment of a mixture of both, James giving the other a flat look as he attempts to hide a laugh behind the half empty cup of coffee in his hands. Stuff making James’ life a misery for this, he was going to make Jones’ one.

“All right, I was kidding. Do you have any idea for the wedding, such as colour schemes or favourite flowers?”

Things run much smoother after that, minimal teasing from the other and, despite the fact James knew him to be a florist, he’s still caught off guard about how much the other knew about flowers. The pair discuss the colour scheme and James suggests a few flowers he knows mean a lot to the other two, Christopher noting them down before pocketing the notebook, checking the time before dismissing himself as he needed to be somewhere.

As he watches him go, James has that weird feeling again, sipping on his fourth cup of tea and wondering why he couldn’t get the picture of the other laughing out of his head.

---

They’ve met 5 times now, with each meeting the amount of work discussed seems to lessen and the amount of getting to know each other increases. To say he had despised the man to begin with, he was warming up to him quicker than he had warmed up to Noah upon his brother introducing him and that was saying something, the pair sat back in that same coffee shop, the Australian seemingly going under interrogation about his life.

“So you’re a lawyer, huh?”

“A new one but, by no means, unsuccessful.”

He’s proud of himself for it, he’d worked hard and he’d become successful, slowly working his way up the ranks and, whilst he still had more to go, he’s come a long way from where he had begun. James watches the others reaction after that, Chris focusing more on the cup than anything and, for once, the Australian feels worry for the other.

“So, I take it you’ve got some hot girlfriend or something?”

“No, I’m single, why do you ask?”

James is watching him again, the way his eyes move and his body language, the nervous smile and the tense shrug of the shoulders like Christopher is hiding something. “Nothing, nothing just interested.” He knows Chris is a little more than just curious, still tense but somewhat happy about his response, like he’d just made the American’s day by stating he was single.

“And yourself?”

“Single and free as a bird, chicks dig my brother more than me.”

The question on relationships isn’t brought up again and James is still curious as to why he had asked, just like how he’s curious to know why the funny feeling seems stronger than ever when he’s alone with the other. He didn’t like him, did he?

Of course he didn’t, he barely knew him, and love didn’t happen instantaneously when you walked into some rockabilly’s shop and found him fiddling with petunias.

Or did it?

---

The wedding is in three days and he hasn’t got a date, it was by no means a requirement but if his little sister was taking someone with her then he needed to as well. James may have been painfully single but he didn’t need to remind not only his own but Noah’s family of this as well.

Charléne was busy, he’d called her first and she’d not only said no but taken offense to not being asked to do the flowers, an act that left James stuck in this situation and feeling more like a helpless teenager as opposed to a 25 year old Lawyer.

Picking up his phone he flicks through his contacts, careful not to drop it on his face as he looked for one specific contact, thumb pausing over it as he found it and, for a brief moment, James wonders if this was the right idea. It was, by no means, the worst but he still isn’t sure if it would count as the best either, pressing the call button and both hoping that he did and did not answer the phone.

“Evening, your Majesty, how may I be of service?”

“Are you busy three days from now, bar the whole delivering of flowers to the venue?”

“Not really, why do you ask?”

“Will you be my date for my brother’s wedding, Chris?”