Bluebell

Chapter 1

I'd rather waltz than just walk through the forest,

The trees keep the tempo and they sway in time,

A quartet of crickets chime in for the chorus,

If I were to pluck on your heartstrings, would you strum on mine?

You hummed along to the gentle lyrics, dancing to the tune. The noon sunlight caught shards of mirrors that hung from the ceiling. Closing your eyes and breathing in, a variety of plants filled your senses. Jasmine, lily of the valley, rosemary, and bluebells. Each one meant something different, symbolized a quality or characteristic. Similarly, each flower was unique and different. It was your favorite part of your job.

Specifically, the part where an undercover spy hides as a florist in a small town in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. But that's where Stark had sent you. Besides, being a florist was always your backup plan anyway, in case the spy business didn't work out.

Ring-ding!

The front doorbell chimed and you sighed as you returned to the front desk, retying the stained apron. Glancing expectantly at the glass door, your eyes caught the bright blue ones of a certain James Buchanan Barnes. You smiled politely.

"Hello, how may I help you?"

"Hi, I need a bouquet for a friend? With, like, special meanings and stuff?" He asked, fidgeting with the key chain on his belt.

"Of course, follow me." Leading him to the backroom, you gathered florist tape, brown wrapping paper, and the box of ribbon.

"What would you like to tell this friend of yours?"

"That I can come to see her soon, and I miss her very much, but I'm glad she's been patient. She's been really helpful and good luck to her."

It was a message for you, you knew it. The team needed you to stay, but it was almost over and the information you were gathering was helping.

"Some message. You care for this girl?" you asked casually.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do actually, a whole lot," he answered solemnly.

"She's lucky to have you. It'll be done today. Where should I send it?"

"Thank you. I'll come pick it up myself. I'll be back at 4 this afternoon," he grinned, but it was sad and sorry.

You smiled and nodded as he walked out.

You got to work as soon as he was out of sight. Two bouquets, first his message to you, then one with your message back to him and the team.

Chamomile for adversity, sorrel for affection, oak leaf as strength, bluebell meaning constancy and gratitude, all wrapped up in a bow.

Next one, your message. Belladonna standing for your silence, chamomile, that you'll continue being patient, bluebell again, pink camellia, you miss them. One blue ribbon finished it off.

Wiping the back table down and setting the flowers in the bouquet fridge, you walked back to the front desk to help another customer.

About a dozen more customers and a few long hours later, it was 3:45 in the afternoon. Tapping your fingers anxiously, you waited, almost jumping out of your skin every time someone entered the store. More customers came and went, and more bouquets were completed and shipped.

It was around 5 when you were starting to get seriously worried, even for a trained agent. So, you began Plan 57: Missed rendezvous message. You hurriedly tied a zinnia, portraying thoughts of absent friends, and a chamomile flower with a black ribbon. A note was attached to the bouquet for Zaya, your coworker, that read 'for any peculiarly handsome men or badass redheaded women asking for me.' She'd understand.

You left out the back door, looking over your shoulder while fast-walking till you reached the broken fence at the edge of the park. Pulling out the disposable cell, you hit speed dial.

"If you're calling, I'm in some trouble. I'll be fine. Base 4." You chuckled at Bucky's reassuring confidence. Base 4 was your apartment above the flower shop.