Iris - Poynter/Jones - Standalone
Title: Iris
Author: valquiris
Part: 1/1
Rating: PG
Pairing: Poynter/Jones
Genre: Fluff
Summary: “It’s different from all the irises I’ve ever seen, because it’s so breathtaking. That’s why it’s the last one left; people love it so much. Were you thinking about buying it? It’d make the perfect gift.”
A/N: I don't really know where I got the idea from. But I knew what I had to name it and I knew what I had to listen to when I wrote it. Deviating from my influx of Flones, I bring you guys my guilty pleasure. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own McFly in any way.
Dougie ran through the alley like an outlaw running from the sheriff, not even turning back to see if Harry had already noticed his sudden disappearance. He tried to slip past him a few times before, but he always seemed to turn to the blonde at the exact moment he spotted an opportunity to run away, and he thanked the heavens for sending an entourage of giggling girls wearing short tank tops and mini skirts past them. It wasn’t because he didn’t like hanging out with Harry-in fact, he loved spending time with his best friend, but it was because he was being dragged to a football game, and Dougie hated football with a passion. Of course, he had told Harry beforehand, telling him about the horrible “incident” he never liked talking about but felt that his friend needed to know, but that didn’t deter him. After Harry’s non-stop pleading, for his favorite team was playing and he wanted to go with someone who wasn’t busy, Dougie finally surrendered, and sooner than he could grab the keys to his house, he was whisked away, walking halfway to the arena already before he could figure out exactly what had happened.
He stormed past passersby walking the opposite way when he emerged from the alleyway, very nearly running over a little child playing with his toy car on the sidewalk (he swerved just in time, missing him by mere inches) and he continued running. He knew he would be rounded on later, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. On and on, he sprinted, not really setting his mind to a destination; he just wanted to get away until after the match was done and over with. It was when he ran past a gaggle of old women talking about the economy and their cats that he saw a place where Harry would never, in a million years, think to look for him.
Emblazoned in blue paint against a white backdrop were the words “Jones Flower Shop,” and he didn’t hesitate to enter the establishment.
The tinkling of a not-so distant bell filled the entire place the moment he pushed the glass door open, and a few customers looked up from whatever it was they had been inspecting before the intrusion. Inside was much colder than the dry heat outside, and he hugged himself as he walked past the rows of flowers and plants, rubbing his arms all the while. Lilies, petunias, roses, daisies, and many more sprouted from vases half-filled with water, and it was as he stooped low to examine the dirt swimming around in one of them that he felt someone appear behind him.
He craned his head apprehensively to see a boy with straight, brown hair looming over him, a smile on his face. Dougie stood to his full height, but even then, the boy was still about a head taller than him, and he hesitantly returned the greeting.
“Can I help you?” the brunette asked, his hands clasped behind him, keeping his attention on the blonde. Dougie said nothing at first, merely staring back uneasily. He didn’t know why he felt that way all of a sudden; he was usually a more social person. But something about this particular boy pushed all that aside, leaving him with only the most basic biological actions: breathing and blinking.
“Oh, erm… I’m just looking,” said Dougie with a laugh after managing to salvage his voice box, scratching his neck for no apparent reason, though he felt it was extremely unnecessary at the moment. The boy beamed brightly in response; clearly he had found something amusing in his comment, and Dougie felt embarrassment washing over him like thick syrup.
“Well, if you need anything, just call me. I’ll be right over there,” the boy assured him, pointing to the counter sitting at the back of the place, and as Dougie willed his eyes to look in that direction, he saw that the glass table contained miniature pots flooded with a vast assortment of flowers. Nodding instinctively, Dougie watched the other turn his brown head and walk over to the counter.
The blonde went back to eye the flowers, moving sideways as he read the pieces of paper taped meticulously under each vase. Occasionally, he would flick his gaze over to the door, watching through the glass if Harry had discovered where he had been hiding. The moment he shifted his gaze from the door back to the foliage for the fourth time, he saw it, the only one left sitting in the vase; the most magnificent, eye-catching flower he had seen since entering the shop.
Two petals, both a light shade of violet, curved upwards above its yellow center much like a ballerina’s arms perpetually locked in a bras en couronne position, while the rest, a much darker shade of violet, flowed elegantly down from the base, creating an illusion of a ballerina’s tutu, with intermittent gaps for the individual petals. He couldn’t keep his eyes off it for some reason, not even to investigate its name, much like he did when the boy came up to him earlier.
Something in the pit of his stomach ordered his head to look at the brunette, who was sitting in his chair reading, as Dougie focused his eyes, a floral magazine, and he did so inconspicuously, only turning a quarter of the way as to not elicit any odd looks from the other patrons testing the durability of each petal by rubbing them between their fingers. He watched the way he flipped the pages, his pinkie curving ever so slightly (an idiosyncrasy, the blonde supposed), the way his eyes moved back and forth as he read the articles, the way his lips curved into a personal smile that seemed eternally embedded in his face.
He never mulled over his sexuality, not even once. Everyone just assumed he was straight, as evident in his handful of ex-girlfriends, but he didn’t really pay any mind about the matter. He just went out with them because he thought they were beautiful, and that’s exactly how he was feeling at the moment as he gaped at the brunette, who had just brushed his hair out of his face, that same smile never leaving his lips.
Dougie forced his eyes back to the flower, and he thought about buying it so he could give it to him. But thinking about purchasing made him realize the fact that he was broke; he had been for the past week. He had spent all his money on a birthday present for Harry, and he wouldn’t get paid until the following week. Sighing, he hung his head and buried his hands in his pockets. He convinced himself that he never even considered the possibility that he was straight, and that in giving him the flower, he would be thrown out at once. The latter seemed farfetched, but he couldn’t help but think so, being his pessimistic self.
Then, like a daisy in the springtime, the brunette popped up behind Dougie once again, and the blonde gave a start.
“Oh, I like this one,” he said, and Dougie gave it his all not to look at him. He kept his gaze on the flower in question instead. “It’s different from all the irises I’ve ever seen, because it’s so breathtaking. That’s why it’s the last one left; people love it so much. Were you thinking about buying it? It’d make the perfect gift.” When Dougie finally let himself look at the brunette, he stood stock-still after realizing his blue eyes were transfixed on him. He felt a prickling sensation travel along the back of his neck under his gaze, and the only thing he could manage was a weak smile.
“Er… no. I haven’t got any money,” Dougie replied with a frown. He expected the brunette to turn away and go back to his magazine after this, but to his surprise, he didn’t. He stayed and grinned more brightly than before. Dougie was confused.
“Hmm. I can always just give it to you.”
Dougie’s eyes widened, and he felt his heart picking up speed.
“Oh, no, it’s fine, really,” the blonde said, shaking his head. The other boy widened his smile, if that were possible.
“Come on,” the brunette said with a wink, and Dougie felt his heart flutter. “My dad owns the place. He wouldn’t mind if I give one for free. What do you say?” Dougie couldn’t believe it. He actually winked at him. Maybe he was wrong after all…
“I can’t, it wouldn’t be fair to the other customers,” Dougie explained, but in his mind, he kicked himself for declining the offer. But the boy only laughed softly, reaching a hand over to the lone iris and picking the stem up with his thumb and forefinger. He waved it before Dougie’s eyes, who watched the flower intently, debating whether to accept or not.
“Well, you can ask me on a date to pay it off,” the brunette said casually, and Dougie’s mouth dropped slightly, fireworks exploding one by one in his head. His heart raced rapidly, thrashing against his ribcage like a deranged gorilla demanding freedom, and he felt his cheeks flush at the words. Taking note of this, the brunette beamed at him, and Dougie felt his cheeks were very near burning.
“Al-alright, then,” the blonde finally managed after clearing his throat, and he brought a shaky hand up to relieve the other of the flower, his mind still reeling, struggling to accept the coherence of it all. Amidst all the activity his brain was going through, he felt his entire head go numb, but he forced out the next words just before he lost the feeling. “Would-would you like to go out sometime, er…?”
“Oh, it’s Danny,” said the brunette hastily, stuffing his hands in his pockets the same way Dougie did earlier. “And I’d love to, erm…” It was Dougie’s turn to smile, and it wasn’t the weak smile he mustered earlier, but a full-blown grin.
“Dougie,” he replied, and Danny nodded his head, his warm smile transforming into something a bit more playful and childish. He still couldn’t believe it, even as he held in his hand the pact that sealed the agreement. This would be his first date with a guy, and he wondered what it would be like. Probably the same as all the other ones, he thought, but he knew there would be something different about it, and the thrill of the mystery sent sparkles up his spine and all over his body. “How ‘bout tomorrow?”
Danny mused for a moment, pursing his lips, his eyes to the door behind Dougie. Worry pressed on the blonde all of a sudden. Thinking about it, a day seemed much too fast; he thought Danny would think him desperate. But then his lips formed the smile again, and Dougie sighed in relief to himself, a significant weight lifted off his chest.
“Alright. Come meet me here at ten thirty, I’ll be waiting by the counter.” With one final exchange of smiles, Danny turned around and marched back to his seat, and Dougie’s stomach flipped in joy as he watched as the brunette continued to read his magazine. He gripped the iris tightly, feeling that if he as much as let go, everything would fall apart. Through the trepidation, he smiled anyway, and he found himself spinning around to face the door, already taking a few steps toward it.
The atmosphere outside changed dramatically; the dry heat enveloped his body once again, and after what had just occurred in the shop, he could feel beads of sweat materializing around his eyebrows. It was as he was walking down the sidewalk that he came upon a harassed-looking Harry, who stopped a few inches from the blonde, chest heaving as he rested his hands on his thighs.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Where’d you gone off to?” Harry gasped, wiping the wetness from his forehead. And, apparently noticing the flower clasped tightly in his hands, he added, “What’s that for?” Dougie’s eyes fell on the flower after perceiving Harry’s change of subject, and he quickly tried to come up with an excuse.
“For Mum. She’s not feeling well,” he said, feigning a concerned look. He didn’t think Harry had to know just yet; once things took off, only then would he tell.
“Oh. Well, what are you waiting for? The match already started!” Harry was standing to his full height now, and he already started his way back to the stadium. Dougie followed at once, the fact that he would be going to a football game completely out of his mind. Instead, he thought about all the things they would talk about the next day, and before he knew it, he and Harry had already made their way to their seats after pushing through very angry fans munching relentlessly on hotdogs and burgers.
“Harry, d’you reckon you can lend me some money?” Dougie asked as they settled into their respective seats.
“For what?” Harry asked, his eyes following the ball as it soared through the air, landing right in the center of the net on the other side. He waited until the roar of applauds and yells died down before giving his answer.
“I’ve got a date tomorrow,” the blonde said after Harry sat back down.
“Another one? With who?”
Dougie smiled.
“Oh… Just this bird named Iris.”
Author: valquiris
Part: 1/1
Rating: PG
Pairing: Poynter/Jones
Genre: Fluff
Summary: “It’s different from all the irises I’ve ever seen, because it’s so breathtaking. That’s why it’s the last one left; people love it so much. Were you thinking about buying it? It’d make the perfect gift.”
A/N: I don't really know where I got the idea from. But I knew what I had to name it and I knew what I had to listen to when I wrote it. Deviating from my influx of Flones, I bring you guys my guilty pleasure. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own McFly in any way.
Dougie ran through the alley like an outlaw running from the sheriff, not even turning back to see if Harry had already noticed his sudden disappearance. He tried to slip past him a few times before, but he always seemed to turn to the blonde at the exact moment he spotted an opportunity to run away, and he thanked the heavens for sending an entourage of giggling girls wearing short tank tops and mini skirts past them. It wasn’t because he didn’t like hanging out with Harry-in fact, he loved spending time with his best friend, but it was because he was being dragged to a football game, and Dougie hated football with a passion. Of course, he had told Harry beforehand, telling him about the horrible “incident” he never liked talking about but felt that his friend needed to know, but that didn’t deter him. After Harry’s non-stop pleading, for his favorite team was playing and he wanted to go with someone who wasn’t busy, Dougie finally surrendered, and sooner than he could grab the keys to his house, he was whisked away, walking halfway to the arena already before he could figure out exactly what had happened.
He stormed past passersby walking the opposite way when he emerged from the alleyway, very nearly running over a little child playing with his toy car on the sidewalk (he swerved just in time, missing him by mere inches) and he continued running. He knew he would be rounded on later, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. On and on, he sprinted, not really setting his mind to a destination; he just wanted to get away until after the match was done and over with. It was when he ran past a gaggle of old women talking about the economy and their cats that he saw a place where Harry would never, in a million years, think to look for him.
Emblazoned in blue paint against a white backdrop were the words “Jones Flower Shop,” and he didn’t hesitate to enter the establishment.
The tinkling of a not-so distant bell filled the entire place the moment he pushed the glass door open, and a few customers looked up from whatever it was they had been inspecting before the intrusion. Inside was much colder than the dry heat outside, and he hugged himself as he walked past the rows of flowers and plants, rubbing his arms all the while. Lilies, petunias, roses, daisies, and many more sprouted from vases half-filled with water, and it was as he stooped low to examine the dirt swimming around in one of them that he felt someone appear behind him.
He craned his head apprehensively to see a boy with straight, brown hair looming over him, a smile on his face. Dougie stood to his full height, but even then, the boy was still about a head taller than him, and he hesitantly returned the greeting.
“Can I help you?” the brunette asked, his hands clasped behind him, keeping his attention on the blonde. Dougie said nothing at first, merely staring back uneasily. He didn’t know why he felt that way all of a sudden; he was usually a more social person. But something about this particular boy pushed all that aside, leaving him with only the most basic biological actions: breathing and blinking.
“Oh, erm… I’m just looking,” said Dougie with a laugh after managing to salvage his voice box, scratching his neck for no apparent reason, though he felt it was extremely unnecessary at the moment. The boy beamed brightly in response; clearly he had found something amusing in his comment, and Dougie felt embarrassment washing over him like thick syrup.
“Well, if you need anything, just call me. I’ll be right over there,” the boy assured him, pointing to the counter sitting at the back of the place, and as Dougie willed his eyes to look in that direction, he saw that the glass table contained miniature pots flooded with a vast assortment of flowers. Nodding instinctively, Dougie watched the other turn his brown head and walk over to the counter.
The blonde went back to eye the flowers, moving sideways as he read the pieces of paper taped meticulously under each vase. Occasionally, he would flick his gaze over to the door, watching through the glass if Harry had discovered where he had been hiding. The moment he shifted his gaze from the door back to the foliage for the fourth time, he saw it, the only one left sitting in the vase; the most magnificent, eye-catching flower he had seen since entering the shop.
Two petals, both a light shade of violet, curved upwards above its yellow center much like a ballerina’s arms perpetually locked in a bras en couronne position, while the rest, a much darker shade of violet, flowed elegantly down from the base, creating an illusion of a ballerina’s tutu, with intermittent gaps for the individual petals. He couldn’t keep his eyes off it for some reason, not even to investigate its name, much like he did when the boy came up to him earlier.
Something in the pit of his stomach ordered his head to look at the brunette, who was sitting in his chair reading, as Dougie focused his eyes, a floral magazine, and he did so inconspicuously, only turning a quarter of the way as to not elicit any odd looks from the other patrons testing the durability of each petal by rubbing them between their fingers. He watched the way he flipped the pages, his pinkie curving ever so slightly (an idiosyncrasy, the blonde supposed), the way his eyes moved back and forth as he read the articles, the way his lips curved into a personal smile that seemed eternally embedded in his face.
He never mulled over his sexuality, not even once. Everyone just assumed he was straight, as evident in his handful of ex-girlfriends, but he didn’t really pay any mind about the matter. He just went out with them because he thought they were beautiful, and that’s exactly how he was feeling at the moment as he gaped at the brunette, who had just brushed his hair out of his face, that same smile never leaving his lips.
Dougie forced his eyes back to the flower, and he thought about buying it so he could give it to him. But thinking about purchasing made him realize the fact that he was broke; he had been for the past week. He had spent all his money on a birthday present for Harry, and he wouldn’t get paid until the following week. Sighing, he hung his head and buried his hands in his pockets. He convinced himself that he never even considered the possibility that he was straight, and that in giving him the flower, he would be thrown out at once. The latter seemed farfetched, but he couldn’t help but think so, being his pessimistic self.
Then, like a daisy in the springtime, the brunette popped up behind Dougie once again, and the blonde gave a start.
“Oh, I like this one,” he said, and Dougie gave it his all not to look at him. He kept his gaze on the flower in question instead. “It’s different from all the irises I’ve ever seen, because it’s so breathtaking. That’s why it’s the last one left; people love it so much. Were you thinking about buying it? It’d make the perfect gift.” When Dougie finally let himself look at the brunette, he stood stock-still after realizing his blue eyes were transfixed on him. He felt a prickling sensation travel along the back of his neck under his gaze, and the only thing he could manage was a weak smile.
“Er… no. I haven’t got any money,” Dougie replied with a frown. He expected the brunette to turn away and go back to his magazine after this, but to his surprise, he didn’t. He stayed and grinned more brightly than before. Dougie was confused.
“Hmm. I can always just give it to you.”
Dougie’s eyes widened, and he felt his heart picking up speed.
“Oh, no, it’s fine, really,” the blonde said, shaking his head. The other boy widened his smile, if that were possible.
“Come on,” the brunette said with a wink, and Dougie felt his heart flutter. “My dad owns the place. He wouldn’t mind if I give one for free. What do you say?” Dougie couldn’t believe it. He actually winked at him. Maybe he was wrong after all…
“I can’t, it wouldn’t be fair to the other customers,” Dougie explained, but in his mind, he kicked himself for declining the offer. But the boy only laughed softly, reaching a hand over to the lone iris and picking the stem up with his thumb and forefinger. He waved it before Dougie’s eyes, who watched the flower intently, debating whether to accept or not.
“Well, you can ask me on a date to pay it off,” the brunette said casually, and Dougie’s mouth dropped slightly, fireworks exploding one by one in his head. His heart raced rapidly, thrashing against his ribcage like a deranged gorilla demanding freedom, and he felt his cheeks flush at the words. Taking note of this, the brunette beamed at him, and Dougie felt his cheeks were very near burning.
“Al-alright, then,” the blonde finally managed after clearing his throat, and he brought a shaky hand up to relieve the other of the flower, his mind still reeling, struggling to accept the coherence of it all. Amidst all the activity his brain was going through, he felt his entire head go numb, but he forced out the next words just before he lost the feeling. “Would-would you like to go out sometime, er…?”
“Oh, it’s Danny,” said the brunette hastily, stuffing his hands in his pockets the same way Dougie did earlier. “And I’d love to, erm…” It was Dougie’s turn to smile, and it wasn’t the weak smile he mustered earlier, but a full-blown grin.
“Dougie,” he replied, and Danny nodded his head, his warm smile transforming into something a bit more playful and childish. He still couldn’t believe it, even as he held in his hand the pact that sealed the agreement. This would be his first date with a guy, and he wondered what it would be like. Probably the same as all the other ones, he thought, but he knew there would be something different about it, and the thrill of the mystery sent sparkles up his spine and all over his body. “How ‘bout tomorrow?”
Danny mused for a moment, pursing his lips, his eyes to the door behind Dougie. Worry pressed on the blonde all of a sudden. Thinking about it, a day seemed much too fast; he thought Danny would think him desperate. But then his lips formed the smile again, and Dougie sighed in relief to himself, a significant weight lifted off his chest.
“Alright. Come meet me here at ten thirty, I’ll be waiting by the counter.” With one final exchange of smiles, Danny turned around and marched back to his seat, and Dougie’s stomach flipped in joy as he watched as the brunette continued to read his magazine. He gripped the iris tightly, feeling that if he as much as let go, everything would fall apart. Through the trepidation, he smiled anyway, and he found himself spinning around to face the door, already taking a few steps toward it.
The atmosphere outside changed dramatically; the dry heat enveloped his body once again, and after what had just occurred in the shop, he could feel beads of sweat materializing around his eyebrows. It was as he was walking down the sidewalk that he came upon a harassed-looking Harry, who stopped a few inches from the blonde, chest heaving as he rested his hands on his thighs.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Where’d you gone off to?” Harry gasped, wiping the wetness from his forehead. And, apparently noticing the flower clasped tightly in his hands, he added, “What’s that for?” Dougie’s eyes fell on the flower after perceiving Harry’s change of subject, and he quickly tried to come up with an excuse.
“For Mum. She’s not feeling well,” he said, feigning a concerned look. He didn’t think Harry had to know just yet; once things took off, only then would he tell.
“Oh. Well, what are you waiting for? The match already started!” Harry was standing to his full height now, and he already started his way back to the stadium. Dougie followed at once, the fact that he would be going to a football game completely out of his mind. Instead, he thought about all the things they would talk about the next day, and before he knew it, he and Harry had already made their way to their seats after pushing through very angry fans munching relentlessly on hotdogs and burgers.
“Harry, d’you reckon you can lend me some money?” Dougie asked as they settled into their respective seats.
“For what?” Harry asked, his eyes following the ball as it soared through the air, landing right in the center of the net on the other side. He waited until the roar of applauds and yells died down before giving his answer.
“I’ve got a date tomorrow,” the blonde said after Harry sat back down.
“Another one? With who?”
Dougie smiled.
“Oh… Just this bird named Iris.”