14. Yellow Flowers

Chapter fourteen

Yellow Flowers

"So?" Gem asked the moment he walked into the cafe the next morning. "How'd did it go?"

Steaming one of the demon dairy products, Oliver shot him a dry look. With a waggle of black brows, Gem lounged against the back counter, long limbs splayed, posture entirely lax.

"We talked," Oliver said.

"And?" Gem trilled suggestively.

"Talked," Oliver repeated.

After he slid the finished latte across the counter to the waiting customer, Oliver faced the spider demon. Gem invaded his space, eight eyes moving independently of each other to scrutinize Oliver's features all at once.

"I can't tell if you're lying," he accused.

"I'm not lying. We just talked." Oliver patted Gem's cheek, then returned his attention back to the espresso machine.

"Was it sexy talk?" Gem cooed.

Unable to stop himself, Oliver grinned. "Not really. But it was still good."

Hot breath fanned over Oliver's ear as Gem said, "Tell me everything."

So Oliver did. Well, he didn't tell Gem everything. He didn't want to betray the newfound trust he and Liel were building, so he kept parts of their conversation to himself. But the innocuous things, he shared with his friend.

Rusty pretended not to care, but his ears were inclined in their direction as Oliver spoke. When he told Gem about falling off his bed and it being witnessed on video, Rusty snorted, though he tried to cover it with a cough.

With a hip-check, Gem knocked Oliver out of the way so he could take over on the coffee machine. "Did he text you this morning?"

"I was up earlier, so I texted him," Oliver said rather smugly.

"And? Details, Oliver! Gods, it's like breaking teeth with you."

"Pulling teeth," Oliver corrected.

Gem rolled his many eyes. "Not the point!"

As Oliver replaced Rusty behind the register, he fished out his phone and offered it to Gem, who took it with his upper hand. As he multi-tasked with his lower hands, he scrolled through the short text conversation Oliver and Liel had shared an hour earlier.

Oliver had texted Liel a few minutes before the cafe opened with a simple, "Good morning. Hope you slept well. I'm already at work at this ungodly hour."

Liel hadn't responded until half past seven with a slew of horrified emojis. Then he'd written, "I did sleep well. I trust you aren't too tired from the late night?"

"Late night?" Gem sang with a shimmy of his lean body. "Did he keep you up late, Ollie?"

"Not that late, and again, we only talked."

"Boo."

The rest of the short conversation was innocent, with a hint of flirting, but Oliver had been making coffees in between, and Liel had needed to get himself ready for work.

"Oh, he sent you a selfie in his little business suit. Aw, he was asking your advice about what tie to wear. That's precious." After reading the entire chat chain twice, Gem handed Oliver his phone back. "I mean, I was hoping for more, you know, dick in the conversation, but you two are cute already. I approve."

Oliver flushed as the customer he was helping eyed them both with a disgruntled expression. "Thanks, Gem. Your approval is what I was waiting for."

"You're sassy today. You sure you didn't get laid last night?"

Well, Oliver may have jerked off after he'd hung up with Liel, imagining those sharp teeth scraping his neck as the demon purred sexy things in his ear, but he wasn't admitting to that .

"Pretty sure," he said as he handed the customer their receipt and directed them to the other end of the counter to wait for their drink.

"Well, there's always next time." Gem gave him the full attention of five of his eyes. "There will be a next time, right?"

Cheeks warm, Oliver nodded. "He said he'd call me tonight, and we have vague plans for Thursday."

"This is so exciting! I've tried wingmanning for Rusty, but he never follows through. And Willow's been monogamous with her boyfriend for ages. And Zef doesn't date. So my talents have been wasted, honestly."

Rusty shot Gem a dirty look but otherwise ignored the comment. Oliver chuckled.

"Toni doesn't want you wingmanning for him?"

"He doesn't need it. Like, for real, he pulls . It's probably the two dicks."

The last part was said quieter, and Oliver was sure he'd misheard. "What?"

"Toni pulls," Gem repeated. "And I'm not just saying that because he's my best friend. Once, he organized a threesome without saying a single word. It was all in the eyes." He sighed wistfully. "Life goals."

"No, I mean—"

"I have a delivery for Oliver?" a voice rang through the cafe, effectively derailing the conversation.

A winged demon stood near the entrance, holding a large bouquet of flowers as he read from his clipboard.

"Is there an Oliver here?"

"He's right over here." Gem waved several hands, pointing at Oliver. "Right here. Oliver. Here."

"I think he heard you," Oliver said as the demon walked over and not-so-graciously pushed aside the customer Oliver was helping.

"Sign here." He shoved the clipboard at Oliver, and Oliver scribbled his signature. Then the demon practically tossed the bouquet at Oliver before turning and stomping out of the cafe.

Cradling the bouquet carefully so as not to bruise the petals, Oliver inspected the flowers. They must have been of demon origin, because he'd never seen flowers like these. They had large, yellow petals with flecks of blue and green near the long stamins, and their stems and leaves were grayish-black.

He sniffed cautiously, then took a deeper inhale. They smelled amazing, but in a natural, earthy way instead of the floral perfumy way he was accustomed to with human flowers. Hidden within the gray leaves was a card.

It was typed, not handwritten, but it still made Oliver smile.

Thank you for the enjoyable, earnest phone call. I look forward to even more stimulating conversation. xxx —L

"More stimulating conversation?" Gem read over Oliver's shoulder. "He is gonna word-bang your brain, honey."

"Now I need to bullet-bang my brain so I never have to hear those words again," Rusty said with a shudder.

"You're just jealous no one's calling you to word-bang your brain," Gem shot back.

"No one is word-banging anyone's brain," Oliver cried.

"Yikes, I walked in at the worst time," Toni said as he entered the cafe, pushing his sunglasses up into his indigo hair. "Brain banging? That sounds like a sexy lobotomy or something."

Gem snickered. "Ha, it does!"

"I don't think a lobotomy can be sexy," Oliver said.

"There Oliver goes kink-shaming again," Rusty tsked. "You should really be more open-minded."

Oliver flipped him off, making the Pyclon smirk.

"Nice flowers." Toni rounded the bakery case and gave the bouquet an approving onceover. "They sexy."

"That's what I said," Gem said. "They're from the Gymnot."

Toni wrinkled his nose. "The one from Greed? Listen, Ollie, I'm all for you getting laid, but did it have to be someone from Greed? If you're into tentacles, I know a guy! I can hook you up, baby. You don't gotta stoop to Greed levels just for a little ass."

"Liel isn't from Greed," Oliver muttered, face flushing with heat. "He just works in Greed."

Gem and Toni both scoffed, but it was Toni who said, "Same difference."

"He's nice," Oliver said, holding his flowers protectively. "I'm not going to judge someone because of where they work. That's speciesist. Or classist. Or… something bigoted."

"You say that now, but just stay on your guard." Toni waggled a grayish-blue finger in Oliver's face. "Pride? Greed? They're bad bananas, baby."

"You mean bad apples?" Oliver clarified.

"They're whatever rotten fruit you want 'em to be."

"Oh, Toni, lay off. Liel seemed cool." Gem patted Oliver's shoulder comfortingly. "I bet he is totally not an asshole."

Taking another whiff of his flowers, Oliver smiled. "He's not."

"Coming on a little strong, though," Rusty commented as he handed a box of baked goods to a waiting customer. "One phone call, and he's already sending you flowers?"

"And they didn't even have phone sex," Gem said.

Toni hissed through his teeth. "Uh-oh."

"Isn't that, like, love-bombing?" Rusty asked.

"Oh no, we don't want that," Gem lamented.

"Told you." Toni propped his hands on his hips, nodding sagely. "Greed guys can't be trusted."

"You all need to chill out." Oliver brushed past Toni and headed for the kitchen. "Maybe he's interested in me as a person and not just phone sex. And the flowers are romantic. It's called wooing. Let him woo me; I want to be wooed!"

"You said woo way too many times," Rusty said.

Gem nodded. "Yeah, it kinda gave me the ick ."

Toni rubbed Gem's neck. "He's human, Gemmy. He can't help it."

"You guys suck!" Oliver snarled as he pushed into the kitchen and stomped toward the back. Tad was zipping up her wetsuit as he came around the corner, and she glared at him.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"Do you have a pitcher back here or something?" He gestured to the bouquet. "I don't want them to die before I get them home."

Muttering under her breath, she stomped to one of the shelving units and clattered around like Oliver was the biggest inconvenience in her life. Then she waddled back over with a glass pitcher in her webbed hands.

"Here. Now get out!"

As Oliver filled the pitcher with water and arranged the bouquet inside, Willow and Glyma gushed with excitement. Leave it to the women to react appropriately to kind gestures. Sometimes, men were stupid.

"They're so pretty," Glyma said.

"Flowers have meaning," Zef said from their spot at the steel prep table, "and those signify affection and attraction."

"They are very lovely," Willow said. "He must be so smitten already."

Oliver shrugged. "I don't know about that. We barely know each other."

"Still," Glyma simpered, "it's so romantic."

"Very sweet." Willow squeezed Oliver's biceps.

"And they make a lovely soup," Zef added. "A thoughtful and practical token of affection."

As Glyma and Willow whispered excitedly, Oliver pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the bouquet. Then he sent it to Liel.

These are beautiful. Thank you.

Step 1 of my aggressive pursuit ??

You should stick with fervor. Aggressive sounds violent, remember?

Amend the record: Step 1 to my fervent pursuit.

You might wanna pace yourself, or you'll spoil me.

I plan to do much more than spoil you.

Is this your attempt at seduction?

Are you seduced?

Maybe.

Glad to hear it. Now, as much as I'm enjoying this, I am entirely swamped this morning. I must get back to the corporate grind.

Good luck. Talk tonight?

It's a date. ??

Grinning like an idiot at his phone, Oliver traced a smooth, yellow petal as emotion swirled like a maelstrom in his gut. He'd never been swept up so quickly like this before, and it was overwhelming. Not in a bad way, not completely. But it was scary.

"Oliver," Willow giggled, and he glanced her way to find her and Glyma blushing, "if you're gonna have those kind of feelings, you shouldn't do it around an empath and a Succubus."

"I might need to take my break and visit Quin." Glyma fanned herself as her cheeks darkened to royal purple.

Zef's milky eyes ping-ponged between them, then they cocked their head at Oliver. "Do flowers arouse you? Is that normal for humans?"

"Oh my god," Oliver whined as he fled the kitchen. Maybe women and non-binary bug demons were just as stupid as men.

That night, Liel made good on his promise to call at an earlier hour. Oliver was cooking dinner when his phone rang, and he answered the video call after hurriedly running his hands through his hair to straighten it.

Oliver's screen filled with the image of Liel reclining in a cushy computer chair, numerous manilla folders spread before him on the desk. He wore another suit, the tie Oliver had suggested—a bright yellow one that matched his eyes—still knotted expertly at his throat.

"You're still at work, aren't you?" Oliver said in greeting, and Liel feigned shame.

"Guilty. I warned you last night that I'm a workaholic." He leaned closer as Oliver propped his phone up so he could continue stirring the boiling pasta. "And you're cooking? That's very sexy."

"I timed it like this specifically for that reason," Oliver joked. "This is my Step One."

"And let me tell you, it's working, darling. As a man who cannot cook to save my life, I appreciate the skill in others."

"Don't get too excited. My skills are very basic." He angled the pot just enough to show the softening noodles. "It's the easiest pasta recipe ever. Nothing fancy."

"Don't sell yourself short." Liel lifted a to-go cup holding what Oliver assumed was a smoothie. "This is my dinner. Not exactly Michelin Star."

Oliver sent him a mock glare. "Please tell me you're not one of those guys who forgets to eat, then considers half a banana and a beer a well-balanced meal?"

This time, his shame was more genuine. "Guilty again?"

"Liel! No wonder you're so skinny. You never eat."

Glancing down, he inspected himself, smoothing a hand down his torso. "I eat. I just don't always eat healthy."

"Instead of flowers, I should send meals to your office."

"Your tone says you're joking, but I would probably like that." He grinned viciously. "You know I like free food."

With a chuckle, Oliver carried the pan of noodles to the sink and poured them into the strainer. "How long would it take you to get to Chicago from Greed?" He raised his voice enough for Liel to hear him from the other side of the kitchen. "I feel like I should feed you before you die of scurvy."

"Firstly, I fear it would take several hours, and the deliciously simple pasta you're making would be long cold," Liel said with a smile in his voice. "Secondly, what in the deities is scurvy?"

"It's a disease that was common a couple hundred years ago when everyone was malnourished." Oliver poured the noodles back into the pan before returning to the stove. "That's the vibe you're giving off right now."

Liel pouted. "That doesn't sound sexy at all. I don't approve of this comparison."

"Well, maybe you should eat something more than a smoothie and stolen cheese for dinner."

With an offended gasp, Liel swiveled his head like he was checking his surroundings. "Keep your voice down. You're going to implicate me in the Great Cheese Theft debacle."

"Oh? Is that the latest office drama? Stolen charcuterie?"

His smile dropping, Liel shook his head. "Actually, I have real drama, and it's not the fun kind."

"What happened?"

"You know that deal I told you about last night? The one in Boston?"

Oliver nodded, dread settling in his gut. "Yeah."

"Well, we were close to getting signatures, but the Boston shareholders got chilly toes." Oliver bit his lip to smother his smile at the incorrect expression, but Liel didn't notice as he continued, "They're threatening to back out of the deal completely unless we revisit terms they agreed to months ago."

"Shit, that sucks. It must be really frustrating to have to redo all that work."

"Well, yes, that too. But…" Liel cringed, rubbing at one pointed ear. "My boss wants to send me to Boston. He thinks having someone there in person will help speed along the process, but he hates the human world. So I'm the sucker who gets left holding the bag."

Disappointment filled Oliver's chest. "When?"

"If I have to go, it will probably be Thursday or Friday," he said sullenly.

"Damn," Oliver said.

"Damn, indeed," Liel agreed. "I'm sorry."

Already shaking his head, Oliver stirred the sauce mix into the noodles. "You don't have to apologize. It's your job. That's important."

"If I had any choice—"

"Liel"—Oliver paused his stirring to lean in closer to the camera—"it's fine. I promise. I'm bummed, but we can reschedule. You know, if you want to."

"I do," he said quickly, and Oliver's heart tripped over itself. "But I'll probably be gone a week. Maybe two."

"Two weeks? Oh."

"I understand if you… no longer wish to pursue me fervently," Liel said haltingly. "I don't expect anything—"

"You get cell service in Boston, right?" Oliver interrupted, and Liel nodded. "Could I call you sometimes? Like, if you have time. I know you're gonna be really busy, but…"

"I'd very much like you to call," he said earnestly, and Oliver smiled down at the pot of noodles. "And maybe I'm making a mountain out of an anthill. I may not have to go to Boston at all. But I wanted to say it now so that it wouldn't come as a shock if I suddenly have to whisk away Thursday afternoon.

"I pride myself on being a man of my word, and canceling last minute is a bit of a… how do you humans say it? A pet peet?"

Oliver chuckled. "Pet peeve."

Liel snickered. "Such a silly expression, but I like it."

"Well, you know I appreciate transparency. So thank you for the heads-up. We can plan for Thursday until you hear for sure about Boston."

"You're too understanding."

"Well, you sent me flowers, so…" Oliver teased, and Liel rolled his eyes as he sipped at his smoothie. "Thank you again, by the way. They're really pretty."

"You're most welcome. I chose yellow so they'd make you think of me." He winked, brow cartilage wriggling.

"Shocking!"

Liel lifted his hand and static crackling between his fingers. "I am that."

"What is that, by the way? Is that a Gymnot thing? Or a you thing?"

"Gymnot thing. Most of my species can generate a certain level of electric current. Evolutionary defense skill."

"And humans evolved to be resistant to life-saving antibiotics," Oliver bemoaned. "How's that fair?"

"Perhaps your evolution is lazier than mine."

"Don't sound so smug about it."

Liel chuckled. "Don't pout, darling. Look at it this way, I may not be able to heal you from illness, but I can drop anyone who dares threaten you."

As he gathered dishes and silverware for his roommates, Oliver arched a brow at the demon. "Seriously? Like you can actually knock someone out?"

"As long as they aren't another Gymnot, yes." Liel crossed one leg over the other, looking rather smug as he said, "With enough charge, I can take down demons double my size if the situation requires it."

"That's kinda hot," Oliver said, and Liel made a show of brushing off his shoulders.

"I hoped you'd think so. Though, I have good control over it, so I won't accidentally shock you."

"Oh, but you'll purposefully shock me?"

Sparks erupted in the demon's eyes. "If you want me to."

"I don't know if I'm into torture tactics as foreplay," Oliver reprimanded.

"I'll be gentle, I promise," Liel crooned, and Oliver blushed hotly. "Jesting aside, you're safe with me. I'll admit that, should I get… overwhelmed, there is a risk of me blowing out the ceiling lights, but that doesn't happen often."

Oliver's brain glitched. "Oh?"

Those sharp teeth played along Liel's bottom lip. "I once blew the electrical box, and the apartment building went dark for a few hours. But that was one time, and no one was harmed."

So if Oliver made Liel come hard enough, he could potentially fry the building's power? What if he really rocked his world? Could Liel knock out the city grid? Holy shit, that possibility should not have gotten him instantly erect.

Clearing his throat, Oliver portioned out the noodles. "So no pressure, right?"

Liel chuckled darkly. "Absolutely no pressure."

"Practical question," Oliver said, and Liel leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. "How can you use phones and computers if you're constantly charged?"

"Like I said, I can control it. I could destroy the electronics in the room if I tried, but"—as if to show an example, Liel pressed several fingers to the phone, blotting out his image for a moment—"see? Nothing happens until I want it to. Granted, I broke my phone often as a teenager. Hormones and emotions going crazy, and then I'd fry whatever was closest if I lost control."

"A whole new spin on puberty." Oliver hooked his head around the kitchen doorway. "Hey, food's done!"

"I can let you go, if you're eating with your flat mates," Liel offered, clicking a pen with his thumb. "I have more work to do before I head home."

"Oh, okay." Oliver took his phone and shuffled to the corner as Dennis and Tracie entered the kitchen. "Don't work too late."

"He says to the workaholic," Liel said.

"Well, someone has to look out for you."

"Are you offering?"

Oliver shrugged. "I think I'm up for the challenge."

Liel hummed. "We shall see."