Bad Day Bouquets

Pairing: Hamish Duke x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: “[Information removed for privacy] so can I get a fic with hamish duke just telling his boyfriend he’s proud of him.”

A/N: I think we could all use a bit more of our fictional s/o’s telling us they’re proud of us. I hope that situation gets better soon, anon.

—–

Hamish Duke knew he wasn’t always the most observant man, but he always knew when something was bothering the love of his life. He always found himself feeling anxious- like there was a heavy weight on his shoulders and a tightness in his chest- when there was something going on and he was more often right than wrong. So when the familiar sensation crept up on him as the class he was auditing was nearing its end, Hamish knew what to do.

The moment the professor dismissed the class he was up out of his seat and on his way to the small flower shop that both of you loved.

Hamish had become familiar with the little old woman who ran the shop with her wife, both of them having taken a liking to him and his boyfriend when they’d come in looking for a few houseplants to liven up their apartment. Agnes, one of the women, smiled widely when Hamish entered, greeting him fondly. “And where’s (M/N), then?” she prompted, pulling out a sheet of paper to wrap the bouquet in. “Studying for another test? That boy works too hard.”

“Not today,” Hamish replied with a fond chuckle, “Something’s telling me he’s not having a great day.”

Agnes nodded sagely, understanding immediately. “Take a look around for a moment while I whip up something special for him. Edith made cookies earlier today; we’ll send some with you for him too.” She moved quickly for someone of her age, selecting flowers and colors that she’d come to know were your favorites in the year you and Hamish had been frequenting the shop and spinning them together into a gorgeous spiral shape. When she was satisfied she gave a sharp nod, tying a bit of twine around the stems of the flowers to hold them in the proper place before handing them over to Hamish, the time faded tattoos across the backs of her hands and lower arms shifting with the movements.

At that moment, her wife Edith made her way down the stairs from the small apartment above the shop with a small parcel in her hands. The bright fluorescent lighting made the small flower-shaped stud in her nose flash brightly as she stopped in front of Hamish, “You tell that boyfriend of yours to come visit us soon; we miss him.”

Hamish nodded, thanking them and paying them double what Agnes told him the flowers cost since he knew she always tried to give the two of you a steep discount. “I will.” He left, consciously ignoring the fact that he knew he’d never heard Agnes call for Edith to bring cookies downstairs. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

His next stop was your favorite coffee shop, where an order he’d placed online was already waiting for him. He thanked the barista as he slipped an extra twenty dollars into the tip jar, before ducking back out onto the street and making his way back toward your shared apartment.

His hunch was proven right as soon as he stepped into the door. The lights were off and the drapes had been pulled across the wide windows. His brows furrowed as he looked around, searching for what might have caused your day to go so south. A soft sigh escaped him as his eyes found your phone, lying abandoned on the floor at the base of the wall where you must’ve thrown it. Without any further investigation Hamish knew exactly what the cause of your bad mood was.
He toed off his dress shoes and locked the door behind him, making his way further into the apartment, stopping only to arrange the flowers in a vase of water before entering your bedroom. He set the flowers and your go-to drink on the nightstand before settling onto the edge of the bed beside the boyfriend-shaped lump of blankets.

“Agnes and Edith send their regards,” he murmured quietly, reaching out to run a gentle hand down your back. “And the barista, Alex, wanted me to tell you she was very grateful for the notes you lent her last week.” He smiled a little as you pushed the blankets back just far enough to reach for the warm to-go cup and examine the flowers. “There are a great many people in this city that care about you, myself obviously included.”

You sighed, taking a long drink from your cup and snuggling deeper into your pile of blankets.

“As someone that cares about you deeply,” Hamish started slowly, hand resuming its slow trail up and down your shoulders, “Can I ask what’s got you feeling so down?”

The to-go cup thunked back onto the nightstand and you disappeared back under the heap of blankets with a huff. “My mother called.”

Just like that, Hamish understood. Your relationship with your mother had always been… complicated. The two of you were like two sides of the same coin- night and day, magic and mundane, wrong and right. In all the time Hamish had known you, all you’d ever done was to try and make her proud but all she could find in you was faults. You chose to attend her alma mater, but she didn’t think your grades were high enough. You found someone that you loved, but that person was a man. “Ah,” he murmured quietly, brows furrowing as he tried to think of what to say. “Well, one shouldn’t take stock in the sayings of the ignorant, I suppose,” he said finally.

“Even if the ignorant is your mom?” you prompted, lowering the blanket far enough that Hamish could see one of your lovely (e/c) eyes peering up at him.

He nodded slowly, reaching down to thread his fingers through your hair comfortingly. “Even then,” he said, moving to lie down next to you and taking your face in his hands to make you look at him to know he was serious. “As much as she doesn’t know you, I do. I see how hard you try at everything you do; how many late nights you’ve had to work on your homework, how many job interviews at companies we both know you’d hate, and how many blind dates you went on with girls your mother chose before we found each other. She may not be, but I am so incredibly proud of you every single day.”

As Hamish spoke, he could see the weight of his words beginning to resonate within you. He knew that your mother’s approval meant the world to you, but you meant the world to him and he would do anything, bring you so many bouquets for your bad days and your good that you’d perpetually be wading through a field of flowers, to make you see that. But for now at least, the slight smile that his words brought to your lips would have to be enough.