How Green Becomes Wood

Once Dark came home, he spent a bit of time greeting his family, although he planned to sneak off and get some alone time soon. Before he could, though, Alec came home, so he asked, "How was your date?"
 
Alec smiled at his father. "It went really, really well! How was the store?"

Xander, leaning in the doorway, said, "Ba was proposed to. Spectacularly."

"Oh, that's nice. Have you picked a date yet?" Alec asked happily.
 
"The thirty-first of February," Dark replied dryly, "It was embarrassing for him, and very odd. I do not believe I had ever spoken to him in my life, prior to him getting down on one knee and begging I, quote, 'consider him.'"
 
"Oh, I see. Well, that's very," Alec stopped mid-sentence and frowned. "Wait, consider him? What does that even mean?"

Xander snickered. "That poor, delusional dude."

Alec shrugged. "At least he's got good taste, right, Mama?"
 
"I do agree he has impeccable taste," Daizi replied, "Unfortunately I beat him to it."

"He told me if someone as large as I am could not share, nobody could," Dark replied, his eyebrows furrowed.
 
Alec stared. Then he shook his head. "Nope. That is just too weird! Way too weird. Well, I'm going to go change into something more comfortable while I think about potential comebacks to that, but I doubt I'll have anything good."

"I think you're stretched thin between a wife, three kids, a dog, and a cat," Xander told Dark.
 
"Wow," Xander said, shaking his head. "Talk about desperation. Well, too bad for him, we were here first, and I'm no more interested in sharing than Mama is." He quickly added, "For other reasons in other ways."
 
"Sometimes you can learn the right lesson by someone doing the wrong thing," Daizi teased before getting up to cook dinner.

That weekend, Sloan finally had her meet to qualify for the Elite team after an annoying number of delays. As everyone expected, she qualified easily, passing with far more than the needed number of points---the judges privately remarked it was surprising she didn't make this attempt before, since she clearly was more than qualified. Still, at least for the time being, her time at the gym wasn't going to change much since she'd still be training with the same basic team, although her schedule would change a bit. After the meet, Sloan, her team, and all invited friends who came to watch went out to a nice dinner to celebrate.

The rest of the week was fairly normal, and soon enough it was Thursday again.
 
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The twins and Peter went out with the team and celebrated Sloan and her team, and just generally celebrated all the good things, but especially Sloan. Even Xander had good things to say about what she'd done that he said to her face instead of hiding behind sarcasm and jokes. He was proud of her and for her. It was a big deal. Alec was, too, of course, but it wasn't hard to get his praise.

For Tristan's part, he'd overdone it. Severely. He wasn't certain he could quite bring himself to regret it, but he was definitely hiring more help next time. One, maybe two temps and Dark for the day before and the day of, and maybe just one temp for the entirety of that week to focus on keeping the place reasonably clean. That was the hardest part. The sales he'd gotten over the Valentine's Day holiday could easily support that if it was anything like this year. With only Dark helping, though, and refusing to rest like he should have despite Dark's advice, he ended up working from home on Monday, unable to go into the office. Thankfully, as long as the numbers got crunched, his boss was understanding and lenient with where he crunched them. He still had to go into the office from time to time, and there were meetings, but he was very grateful to have a hybrid job that was so flexible and willing to work within his limitations. It was nice to have people so accepting of something he struggled to accept, himself.

Thursday revealed a rather slow day, with customers trickling in here and there. Tristan wasn't too worried about that. It meant he had time and a helper to do the inventory and reorganize things a bit. He'd put in an order for more flowers, but now that they were putting things out on the floor, he realized he'd forgotten a couple of things.

“Fillers, we need more fillers,” Tristan mused, writing down a list of things to order as Alec reported their current stock amounts while filling flower buckets and giving them fresh water.

“What about getting some really cool sticks?” Alec suggested. “And I think you charge way too little for your terrariums.” He walked over to look at the half-built terrarium Tristan was creating inside an old glass honey jar. It was currently a part of the register station's decor as Tristan worked on it between customers. “They are so cool! And they take you so long.”

Tristan glanced over with a smile. “Thank you, but if I charge more, not as many people will buy them. It’s enough to break even for now.”

“Okay,” Alec sighed. “I suppose you know what you are doing.”

“No, I am making it up entirely as I go,” Tristan said mildly.

Alec snorted in amusement and moved around the counter to see the list. “Where were we? Did I tell you about the roses?”

“Yes, we have a good stock of those,” Tristan said, checking. “I need eyes on our non-flower supplies. Ribbons and-”

The door opened. Tristan looked up and stopped short, the words dying in his throat. Emotions flashed across his face before he could shut them down. A man wandered in, his hands shoved into the pockets of his tan overalls. He was of a larger build of both muscle and fat, and he carried himself like someone used to shouldering heavy loads and walking the fields, not wandering through a flower shop. He looked around the shop with a smirk in his eyes. His hair had likely once been bright red, but time had paled it even as it creased his face. He hadn’t bothered to acknowledge Tristan or Alec yet with so much as a look when he first walked in, but now, as he rounded the center display, he turned to look at them. He barely spared Alec a dismissive glance, a faint sneer pulling at the corner of his mouth deepening as he turned to Tristan.

“So, this is what’s been keeping you busy,” he remarked.

Tristan snapped out of his freeze and scribbled something on the notepad. He tore off the page and shoved it at Alec. “Look for these in the back, and I do not want to see you again until you find them,” he told Alec sternly.

“Yes, sir!” Alec said, surprised. He glanced at the older man once more before hurrying into the back room. He hesitated at the door and listened a moment.

“I didn’t think this place would still be open,” said the older man.

“Business has been good,” Tristan said, his tone more clipped than Alec had ever heard it before.

The man gave a derisive snort. “I bet.”

Alec looked down at the list. Underneath the neat, orderly list of things Tristan needed to order were some hastily scribbled words. “Call dad come get you NOW.” Questions filled his brain, but, obediently, Alec walked farther into the back room and called his father.
 
"I don't think so," Alec said quietly, bewildered. "A man came in, and Uncle Tristan started acting really strange. He gave me a note to call you to come get me and shoved me into the back room. So, can you come get me?"

In the front room, Tristan faced the stranger. “What do you want?” Tristan asked bluntly. "It's not like you to make social calls."

“Your mother thinks you’ve been away from the fold too long and wanted me to come by,” the older man replied. He picked up an expensive glass vase, glanced at it, glanced at the price, and set it down with a snort. “You’re charging how much for this tat? No wonder you think you’re too good for us.”

“I never said that,” Tristan said quickly, an odd catch in his voice.

“You said as much when you turned your back on us and walked away. Oh, sorry, you rolled away,” he said with a smirk.

“I have been busy getting this place going. I own my own business now, something I thought you’d approve of, Dad,” Tristan remarked.

“Holy cows and horses, Ba. I think that’s my grandfather!” Alec whispered in shock.
 
Dark glanced down at his half-full cart of groceries and then said, "I am at the store, I can be there in about ten minutes, I believe. You should stay in the back, Alec. Or wait for me outside." Then he found an employee, quickly apologized for having to abandon his cart, and explained he had a family emergency and has to leave now before getting into the car and driving as quickly as he could to the flower shop.
 
“Sure, sure, a bunch of flowers, and that’s your business. You’re really going to be proud of this?” the elder Mr. Walsh said, giving Tristan a look of disgust. “Right. Let’s get a good look at this place you’re so proud of.” He swaggered toward the back.

“Wait, Dad, you really don’t want to go back there,” Tristan stammered, rolling forward, but he wasn’t fast enough, and even if he was, it wasn’t like he was stopping the man.

Alec had been so focused on listening that he still had his phone in hand, his father on the line. “Oops,” Alec murmured and shoved his phone under a bunch of colorful tissue papers. He ducked his head, grabbed the closest box, and started counting out the items inside. Random ribbons, it looked like, but he wasn’t paying much attention to what he was doing, just making sure he looked busy and occupied.

The elder Mr. Walsh swept into the back room and took in the two large tables, the rows of cold storage, the wall of ribbons and decorations, and the boxes of assorted random things. He nodded slowly and turned to take it all in. “Yep. Very impressive.” He caught sight of Alec. His eyes slowly traveled down Alec's colorful outfit - not his most colorful, he kept it professional while working - and the streak of blue hair that was still growing out. “You’ve even got a nice fruit fairy to help you out.”

Alec’s ears went red, but he didn’t say anything, resolutely counting.

Tristan bristled and did his best to move between them. “Dad, you can’t say things like that.”

The elder Mr. Walsh stopped and slowly turned toward Tristan, his eyes icy. “Are you challenging me, boy?” he asked, his voice quiet and calm. "Telling me what I can and cannot do? Hmm? You think this business of yours makes you good enough you can tell your old man what to do and what to think?"

Tristan tried to meet his eyes. Tried to hold his ground. But his gaze faltered. “No, sir, but this is a place of business. Fancy people with money don’t like to hear things like that,” he said, his voice wobbling a little.

The elder Mr. Walsh snorted and walked toward the doorway. “Like there’d be anyone in this tat shop who could hear me. Ever.”

Tristan had to hurriedly wheel his chair back to get out of the way. It looked like his father would have walked right through him otherwise. “I do a decent business, actually, over the silly holidays, like Valentine's,” he attempted to defend himself.

Alec watched to make sure the two adults were out of sight and easy hearing before quickly retrieving his phone. “If you’re still there, Ba, I think you’d better come quick,” he whispered.
 
"I will," Dark promised, a certain tone in his voice, having overheard some of what was said.

True to his word, he was at the flower shop with remarkable speed and let himself in through the back door, and in a quiet tone said, "Alec, you should go to the car, I think."
 
Alec nodded. "Be careful." He hurried out the back door, wanting to stay and see what happened, but also terrified to see.

The elder Mr. Walsh wandered the store again, idly flicking at flowers so they dropped their petals and batting at the hanging plants, especially the vining plants. One lost a good, long vine to his swat, and he shook it off his hand in disgust. “I’d hoped for a lot better than this for you,” he remarked. “Something worthy of a Walsh man. This ain’t worth a boy’s pay for a Walsh.”

Tristan took shelter behind his counter, sweating a little but fighting to hold it together. He hadn’t been prepared for this. Any of this. It felt like getting ambushed while standing on ice. Meekly, he said, “I’ve been trying to do what was best for me. I thought I was doing pretty well for myself.”

He snorted. “Talking back to your father again. You’re the worst of the bunch now that you’ve gotten all gentrified.” His tone turned mocking at the word. “Even Declan shows up for the right holidays, damn the boy, and has a good, responsible job, but you? Can’t even spare your own family, your flesh and blood a time of day while hawking flowers like some girl on the streets in an old movie. Yeah, you should be right proud of yourself.” He knocked off a vase, probably accidentally, but he didn’t bother to even glance at the shards. His boot crunched on the glass. “I should have kept your sorry, crippled ass home and dealt with the extra baggage. It’d have been better than this. I should cut you off proper, but your mother wants you at the next holiday meal, you hear? So be there. You disobey your mother, and…”

“What, you’ll kick me out of the house?” Tristan demanded, rallying even as he trembled under his father’s glare.

The elder Mr. Walsh glared at him. “Test me once more, boy. Let's see what you've got."

Tristan bowed his head and said nothing.

The elder Mr. Walsh's eyes glinted at Tristan's retreat. “And there won’t be no more secret meetings with Liam and Sean.” His smirk grew triumphant as Tristan went pale. “Yeah, I’ve known about that. It was my idea. I figured those boys might be able to bring you back. Should’ve known not to send boys to do a man’s job.”

Tristan said nothing, his head dropping lower.

“I’ll be taking one of these for your mother. She’s been wanting some frippery,” the elder Mr. Walsh said, picking out one of the most expensive pre-made bouquets in the shop. “Easter Dinner. Be there.” He turned to walk out the door.

Tristan watched him go. Then he silently folded over in on himself, shivering.
 
Dark really tried to convince himself this wasn't his buisness and he should just leave well enough alone. He really did. But he also heard the tone in that stranger's voice. It reminded him too much of one he was all too familiar with. The sound of Tristan's voice also was too familiar. And what was the point of going through everything he had if he could just shrug his shoulders and leave?

"Excuse me," Dark said, stepping out from behind the curtain, masquerading as pleasant, subtly positioning himself in front of Tristan, "I do not believe we have met before."
 
Tristan started. He had no idea Dark had arrived, and he certainly hadn't expected for him to come out like this. "Mr. Dark," he started to say.

The elder Mr. Walsh turned and sized Dark up. For better or (probably) worse, Dark's size alone did nothing to intimidate him. "Yeah? Doubt it. Who are you? Death metal singer? Peddling your unholy trash to weak-minded fools?"

Tristan wanted to close his eyes, but he didn't dare.
 
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