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renee561 · 11 months

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What Do The Flowers Mean?

For @sarahtarth for her birthday (sorry it's late but life happened)! Happy birthday lovely.

Granny x female oc, background RedCricket. No one is straight in this fic.

Moodboard here.

Enjoy!

—————

Florists would tell you there was a flower for every occasion. From birth to death, there is a flower to honor every. single. one.

The major occurrences such as births, weddings, anniversaries, funerals.

Flowers to say get well, get better, to send condolences for a passing.

Flowers given by your husband to apologize through flowers for when you fought, when he eventually cheats…again. Given on your wedding day when you married him, when he died.

There were the first date single roses, and the just because daisies.

Each one, a mark of yet another day passing through a very long life.

In her golden years, Lucille thought she would have grown old with someone, either one of her two spouses, but death seemed to have a wicked, and perhaps a bit of cruel sense of humor.

Both spouses dead, she has been a widow longer than she had ever been a wife—of either of her two marriages. Raised two children alone, one of her womb and the other—the other of her daughter's after Lucille buried her child.

She grew two successful businesses, and in the past month business had grown, more regulars, and changes to her once unchangeable small town.

But the emptiness in her bed remained the same.

She wasn't looking for someone to warm her the cold sheets besides her, she didn't have the time nor patience for the nonsense of modern dating. She saw how her granddaughter jumped from bed to bed and Lucille tried to understand and wished Ruby would open her damn eyes and see a good match waiting in the wings for her.

But alas the youth were more blind then the old, and Lucille's health, while not the same as it once was, was at least better then six months ago.

The red tulips next to her nightstand when she woke from her triple-bypass, a rather startling surprise as she knew Ruby would not think to give her such a gift.

They fought too much for Ruby to think she only complained about her sleeping habits because Lucille disproved. And she did, but she only wanted her only grandchild happy, which no matter how much Ruby said she was fine, those empty green eyes told a different story altogether.

They were the same eyes that stared back at Lucille in the mirror, albeit younger and without the number of crow's feet and lines, but the same bleak emptiness shown through.

The bright tulips brought joy to Lucille, tulips were at least pretty to look at, much better than roses. And a warmth she ignored, for who would know that tulips were one of her favorite flowers?

———

She rubbed at her aching head, her fingers trying to massage away a headache that has been prevalent since lunch.

She ate…maybe—no, she remembers the sandwich and the roll for dinner.

It has been a rough night, short staffed with Ruby at the mines. hard to imagine the fright of the news of the collapsed mine shaft with Archie and little Henry being trapped in such an unstable condition.

Of course Ruby called to keep her updated on the rescue mission and the gossip that Miss Swan decided to put roots down in this small town at last.

She liked Emma. She wished the ordnance had allowed her to not kick out her only guest at the B&B for months. Sometimes it did not pay to be a small town with little through traffic. But the law unfortunately was in charge of the mayor, whom the citizens of Storybrooke did elect.

So much for democracy when that fire breathing harpy acts more like a raging c—

"Are you ok, Mrs Lucas?" A soft angelic voice whispered.

She felt her eyes crack open though it was a challenge as her headache seemed to get worse and not better.

There before her was the owner of the little nursery on the edge of town, she supplied Moe, the florist with the beautiful flowers he sold, and everyone else with seeds for their gardens.

"Bloody fantastic, Mrs Carver, just bloody fantastic," she snipped as she felt her heart accelerate and her breath catch and she was sure that had little to do with her raging headache.

The woman was beautiful. Long graying hair, very few lines of stress and age, but her hazel eyes were kind and filled with pity—no not pity— concern.

"You know we divorced years ago, Lucille."

"And my husband has been dead a very long time, as has my other spouse— therefore we need not remain on formalities, Joan, but you always seem to revert to such first."

A grumpy woman, who once loved a man, and a woman equally and her heart, traitorous organ it was, found itself longing for someone else she could not have.

Marco had already stolen this woman's heart and Lucille doubts Joan would be into a grumpy old widow with a granddaughter that couldn't figure out what she wanted let alone whom. The stigma associated with Ruby's sleeping habits, known as the town's harlots behind her back and sometimes to Lucille's own face, sometimes irked even her own issues with the matter.

"Indeed. I hear everyone call you that, that I forget our agreement to not have such formalities. I just wanted to make sure you were alright, I was walking back from the mines and saw the light still on. The door was even open and I took the liberty of turning the sign for you."

She was unreal, this beautiful and kind woman. Lucille was grumpy, some even called her the dragon behind her back. Her body may be failing her from time to time but her hearing…still sharp as ever.

Except she hadn't heard the door ding.

Maybe the pain got to her.

"Thanks, Joan. It's nice to see you. It's been…some time."

5 months and 22 days since Lucille returned to work after her surgery and there was Joan with Marco having lunch, and his hand covering hers, signaling to Lucille that they were in fact a couple. After all, whenever she saw Marco he couldn't stop telling her all of Joan's good qualities, as if Lucille hadn't observed most of them herself over the years and through the short conversations they've had.

Joan, while not adverse to people unlike Lucille, she preferred to tend her garden then be around others. Somedays that sounded idyllic to her. Have a place with a garden to tend and not have to worry about the rent to Mr Gold. As far as she knew Joan was one of the very few to not rent from the town's landowner.

Joan smiled, her face angled slightly down as she seemed embarrassed.

"It has. I've been meaning to come back after Marco assured me you were fine, I just got involved with the plants. Several of them died due to the frost we had last winter and I've been trying a new fertilizer and unfortunately speaking…it permeates everything for days when it's fresh."

She nodded and she could imagine the work Joan had to put in knowing last winter was harsh.

"Marco is a dear man. Though some days I wish he wouldn't hover. I'm fine."

Her friend would ask her after her health before going into a traide about Joan's patience and caring hand.

Joan looked at her sharply and with a sculpted brow, her eyes narrowed.

"You ate something today, yes?"

"Yes. Coffee for breakfast. A sandwich for lunch and…a roll for dinner."

Joan frowned deeply.

Lucille knew she was about to be mothered, as she watched Joan open her mouth, she interrupted—"I'll eat something more when I'm back at the B&B. I still have to close up and Ruby is not here…still at the mines I'm sure."

She wasn't sure if Ruby hadn't gone home to someone else's bed.

"I'll help! And maybe you could fix us a drink in your secret stash and maybe I could save the lecture on eating better for the next time I see you?"

There was a sternness but Joan's teasing smile caused Lucille to let her "I'm fine" be swallowed and let Joan have her way.

Just this once.

"Sure. Take the rag and start wiping down tables, while I get the bourbon."

She didn't say she wouldn't mind the lecture on better eating habits…tomorrow morning after Joan had spent the night.

She stopped having breakfast after Linda died, she wasn't much for eating a morning meal alone. Or any meal for that matter, but most of her meals were taken just like that.

At least she wouldn't be drinking alone tonight.

Joan hummed softly under her breath as she wiped down the tables, some pop tune she couldn't place, stacking the condiments on one of them, Lucille Lucas thought herself an old woman. A very foolish one indeed.

——

Irises have never been her favorite flowers, Luthor used to give them to her after their fights, after he would come home drunk, or when he needed forgiving for another of her bruises, another woman in their bed, or just because he was an ass that couldn't keep his temper in check.

He was always apologizing for something.

His mother, the cunt, had

Irises on his coffin. His young widow and three year old toddler stood at his coffin's edge, Anna crying hysterically while all Lucille could remember was feeling the chains that bound her to him break free as the mahogany was lowered into the ground.

Linda was thankfully allergic to flowers so it saved Lucille from having to explain why she didn't care for the tradition of flower giving.

It was pointless and pathetic.

But these were both painful and curious as the handwriting was unfamiliar to her. The card's only words were "from a Secret Admirer".

She rolled her eyes and separated the bouquet to accent the dinner tables and booths, put the rest in a smaller vase to put on the little table between the bathrooms.

They were not permitted anywhere near her house.

Joan only quicked her brow at the decor when she walked in carrying some daisies in her hand.

"I see someone beat me to the punch," she teased gently as she handed Lucille the daisies that were colorful and to some plain but to her, made her chest beat wildly and she worried it would skew the results of her pacemaker.

Dr Whale will definitely ask her about that.

Lucille smiled softly.

"These are better than those garish things. Luthor used to give them after—never liked them. Tolerated them because what else was I supposed to do? Divorce him?"

Joan smiled awkwardly.

"Sorry, I'm just not used to someone giving me flowers and saying they're an admirer of me."

She was nothing to look at, in her youth perhaps, but not now.

"Oh?" Joan questioned with a furrow of her brow.

Lucille nodded sagely.

"I like these much better, thank you."

Joan smiled but it was only half-hearted.

"I have to go, I can't stay. Big order to fill, Lucille. Hopefully it won't take as long as last time but you know—" she waved her hand like a magician.

All encompassing and with a twist of her wrist.

She nodded stiffly and she cursed her loose tongue.

"Of course. See you around then?" It was perhaps foolish of her to hope but hope sometimes was all one had sometimes.

Joan smiled softly, "Of course."

She left and was gone.

—-

Flowers kept showing up, the same unfamiliar handwriting, roses of different colors, bright chrysanthemums, more tulips red and pink all signed by the secret admirer.

The flowers appeared steadily, once a week, and she was running out of room to put them.

The only other thing that made it terribly worth wild to her and less of a grump about the scent, was that Ruby began seeing Dr Hopper…socially after she thought the roses were for her and Lucille wasn't going to let the chance slip by to make sure her granddaughter was taken care of by perhaps the only good man left in this town barring Marco.

She did see Joan occasionally, but her tongue always twisted when the woman sat at her barstool eyeing her with a piercing stare trying to ask about the flowers and if she had any idea who sent them?

She didn't, but only shrugged and changed the subject.

At times she wished it was Joan, and then she would berate herself for such foolishness as she asked Moe when he came by to deliver them if it was a woman. Moe was as good for information as Gold was for leniency.

Especially after Gold beat Moe within an inch of his life for some reason, neither would disclose it to her. Which was fine, she didn't really thrive on the gossip but it was interesting that for a man as Gold to do such a thing himself it had to be deeply personal.

Lucille could respect privacy.

Except that the flowers didn't give others the same respect, for the questions were ceaseless, especially Ruby, who did find out that Archie had not sent the initial roses to Ruby or to Lucille.

That had been a bit concerning to watch, as Lucille braced herself for rejection once more from her only descendant.

Mother Superior even looked with her pinched lips in displeasure when Joan had presented Lucille some lilies with a radiant smile as a thank you.

She was not sure if the sister thought it was sinful for two women to love each other, most of the town did not know Lucille's last spouse was a woman or if it was that the sister started sneezing because of allergies and left directly.

She didn't care for the woman much, in fact she only allowed the sister to eat here because she was a customer other than that they did not bother each other.

Even Gold had something to say about the flowers, remarking on his observation that Joan seemed out of sorts when he saw her talking to Moe the other day. She tried to ask Joan about it, mentioning only that someone saw them arguing.

She hasn't seen Joan since.

She kept the light on later hoping to see Joan again, alone with no customers. Except it's been a week and she thinks she was playing herself for a fool.

She rubbed her face. It's been a strenuous day, having to comfort her granddaughter after she woke early from a night terror about finding a seemingly dead woman out by the trash the other day and with Mrs Nolan alive, Mary Margaret was free at last. They had a party at Mary Margaret's the next day.

"You know if I didn't know any better I think you do that just to lure me over with concern for you, Luce," the soft angelic voice whispered.

That damn bell was either broken or Lucille was losing her hearing.

She looked up to see the woman wrapped comfortably in a wool sweater, and a baby blue scarf wrapped around her neck.

Her cheeks were rosy and eyes bright with concern.

"Stressful week. You heard about Kathryn being alive and Mary Margaret freed?"

Joan nodded and tugged at her scarf but only to keep it casually laying on her shoulders, her hair pinned in a half updo.

Lucille looked back to her accounts as to not be caught staring at the neck of the woman she knew smelt like pine, flowers and dirt. They shouldn't smell good to her, but they did.

"You seem a bit quiet tonight, did I upset you?"

Joan did but it wasn't Joan's fault. It was Lucille's that she grew foolish feelings for a straight woman.

It was pride to not admit that though, and more than a little self-preservation.

"Not particularly, I'm a grumpy old woman, Joan. Let me be grumpy and not think you're at fault for it. How's Marco doing? I haven't seen his hide in here for ages."

She needed to remind her to not fall in love with a woman straighter than a pencil and in a relationship to boot.

Joan snorted as she took a seat at the bar and placed her chin on her hands.

"Same as always. Wrapped up in a project or other. I haven't seen him much, though nor has Archie. He got a new assistant, the young man that was talking to Ruby about Lemurs or something. She saw me the other day with Archie, a sweet man, a little odd but I think he'll do her good. Mother Superior on the other hand told me that they were all wrong for one another because of Ruby's past."

Lucille growled in her throat and curled her hand around her pen tightly.

"Told the bint to save her holier than thou preachings for someone who has the time or patience for them, which i do not. Besides, between us—" here Joan leaned a little closer and Lucille could smell fresh dirt and the scent of pine on her.

"I have always thought she was a bit of a hypocrite. It's why I never attended her services, despite her always asking me why I never come. We don't agree on things about what is sin and what is not. Besides Ruby, despite her dubious choices, is a good person. She'll be good with Archie and Archie loves her. Love shouldn't be tainted by such a narrow minded nun."

The way she was defending Ruby, with such bright eyes and deep conviction of her words made her want to push her luck.

But love was for the foolish…and for the young.

Lucille nodded, "I never liked her, she's only allowed here on the condition there is no preaching her nonsense. I stopped attending church the moment my husband was put in the ground. Anna, Ruby's mother, was three."

Joan smiled knowingly.

"I'm sure Marco and you discuss these things together, after all it must be pretty weird for him to see his best friend dating your granddaughter considering you two are seeing each other."

"No, we're not dating. He's not the type of man to cheat on a woman. He is a one woman at a time gentleman," she said defensively, her eyes meeting the shocked hazel eyes of the woman she wished she was dating.

"Of course he is, I never thought otherwise!" Now Joan's eyebrows puckered in confusion, her nose squishing up, her head tilting.

She shouldn't look adorable when she was confused but Joan was very much the definition of adorable in Lucille's opinion.

"Then if you're accusing him of cheating on you with me, then I think you think very little of us to do that to you." Hurt clouded her voice and her heart.

Hazel eyes looked at her and Joan's cheeks warmed and shook her head firmly,"We're not dating. Why would you think we were dating?"

"He never shuts up about you when he's here, tells me all your good qualities, and he likes to hold your hand."

She berated herself for possibly sounding jealous of such a thing.

Joan smiled and Lucille thought the woman was definitely an angel.

"I thought you two were keeping it hidden. He always comes into my nursery to praise you and frankly he's always been tactile since we were teenagers. I thought you were being…nice to me about it."

She blinked in confusion.

"Nice about what? I'm not sure nice would be something to describe myself."

Joan rolled her eyes but before she could answer, Ruby came in pulling Archie by the arm, the expression of surprise showing her that they just prevented some tomfoolery from happening in her restaurant as Ruby quickly dropped Archie's arm as if burned.

"Didn't realize you were still here, Gran. Saw the light and—oh hi, Joan. Thanks for the advice. See you at home. Gran. Bye, Joan."

She hog marched Archie over to the B&B next door.

She felt as if her eyebrows were deep in her hairline.

Joan giggled, holding her hand to her mouth and her eyes shone brighter.

"Advice?" She asked, turning her eyes to her…friend.

"I just told her that if she had a good thing with Archie to keep a hold of it. Happiness can be fleeting."

She nodded. Sound advice.

"Though I think she's not sure if you approve considering you never liked any of the others…according to her."

"I approve of Archie."

"No of them being serious so fast."

"I think it's about damn time, I don't want to know about their business, that's between them, but Ruby knows that I approve of Archie."

"But not them—"

"Not where I can hear it—no. Boundaries, Joan, boundaries. Besides, we'll be going to Mary Margaret's homecoming party tomorrow. Do you want to come with us?"

It wasn't a date, but she wished it was.

Joan looked at her for a few seconds before nodding.

"Yeah I would like that. I'll meet you there. I should go, Luce, it's getting late."

She nodded and watched Joan walk away.

Maybe one day I can ask her to stay.

It was a foolish notion.

—

"Do you even know what the flowers meant?" Joan asked, as she flipped through a leather bound book at the counter.

It seems this was now a regular occurrence, talking with Joan with the closed sign and Lucille eyes trying to not linger too long on the beauty in front of her.

"No. Didn't know they were supposed to mean anything." She said, lifting her drink to her lips, feeling the slight burn at the back of her throat.

Joan raised an eyebrow as she looked up from the book.

"Of course they mean something! It's why people send flowers in the first place! To communicate their thoughts in another secret language!"

She shrugged, and with some stress said, "I figured it was just a way to woo people not exactly saying a lot when your spouse gives you the same flower for every transgression he makes. Or the fact my wife was allergic, so flowers really weren't a big deal to me. I'm sure florists hate when people tell them to send a bouquet of language flowers to someone."

She paused in her task to take in Joan's expression, having never specifically stated outright she had once been married to a woman before. She doesn't think Joan would mind, but she was curious…and a little hopeful she wouldn't take it too bad.

Joan grinned and set down her book, looking at her with a piercing stare.

"I figured that out weeks ago. Also Marco mentioned something in passing that I wasn't sure to broach."

She clicked her tongue, the man gossiped worse than an old biddy sometimes.

"And what did Geppetti mention?"

"That the reason he talked us both up to the other was because he hoped it would…spur one of us to make a move, as he claims it. I thought him foolish of course, but the more I thought about it, you never mentioned your second spouse by name or gender, " the soft smile she gave her made her heart speed up and there was a moment of electricity as she looked at Joan's aged face and wondered if she was fine with it.

I will murder that carpenter, she thought with less venom and mostly annoyance.

Before she could say anything Archie came in with a fury on his face she never thought she'd see. Joan reached for her hand as she nearly reached under her bar for the old crossbow she had…for protection.

"Henry's in the hospital, in a coma."

Her heart dropped and she squeezed the hand holding hers.

Ruby came from the back and looked at her and then at Archie. There was something going on that she didn't understand, but she wasn't going to say anything.

"Is he ok? What happened?"

His eyes looked away from Ruby's and his shoulders tensed as he stood straighter and with a confidence she appreciated from him more so than his lack of backbone before.

"I don't know Emma hasn't told me."

Ruby stiffened and she looked at the two of them and wondered if her granddaughter really thought Emma Swan wanted Archie, when for years the only woman Archie Hopper could look at was Ruby.

"Maybe we should go see him this afternoon, Ruby?" She said, realizing Joan and her still held hands and pulled away slowly, not wanting to let go.

She was doomed but perhaps…she eyed the book laying innocently on the top of the counter.

"Can I borrow that? I wanted to make a message for Henry when he woke up."

She lied. It was going to be her one shot.

Joan's smile changed, it was stiff and different. But Lucille blinked and the smile was softer.

"Of course. Just make sure you return it, it was my mother's."

She nodded, their hands brushed over the cool leather.

"I'll take good care of it." She would and she hoped Joan would understand that she just didn't want to mean just the book.

Ruby cleared her throat loudly and Joan left with Archie.

"You've got it bad."

"And you're jealous of Emma, when that man hadn't kept his eyes off you for years, Ruby. He loves Henry as much as he would his own child. Emma is his friend, and you're his girlfriend."

"I'm not. He hasn't asked me. We're still not…actually dating."

She blinked and looked at the pained expression on her granddaughter's face.

"Then woman up and ask him first. He may be a man and it's not usually done, but neither is falling in love against the odds."

"You're not talking about me and Archie?"

"I am. Ruby, you have an incredible heart, but sometimes I think you see yourself as less and for years you projected that into the world and the world took it and ran with it. Now there is someone who has always seen you as more, as someone worth more than someone to sleep with, and you're assuming that he'll change his mind now that he has. You haven't scared him off yet…and perhaps it's not just you that thinks they're unworthy."

Ruby looked away, "We haven't actually. He wasn't ready, and wanted to take things slow. But what if—"

"Then tell him. You're lucky that he's different but it's scary when it's actually real isn't it?"

Scared green eyes met her own, before they dropped to the book in hand.

"That wasn't for Henry was it?"

She smirked. "No, being in love is scary, even for old grumpy ladies, Ruby. But as Joan said, if you find happiness, never let it go because it is fleeting."

Ruby nodded and taking off her apron stormed outside and she shook her head at her grandchild.

"Head of stone that one. Now, little book, let us see what secrets you hide."

——

Joan stopped by the diner, that same afternoon, only an hour, her fingers brushing the card she memorized. it came to her with a beautiful bouquet of flowers, yellow and pink roses, pink chysymthams, red tulips, and lilies.

My love for you is like a flower, ever changing, ever growing. LL

Her heart had stopped and she wondered if Lucille had found out somehow. She had never been one for love, her divorce was messy and unclear in her mind, but the only thing she knew was that she admired one from afar, and she stayed away for the same reason.

Knowing you're in love with someone is different then speaking of that love to them, especially when you think they're dating your best friend and first love, and straight.

Being bisexual was hard for her, as she didn't know the term for it until she was browsing the internet one day trying to understand these feelings. Marco had laughed at her and told her he knew already, he's known for a long time. It didn't bother him they never ended up together but that he was very very happy for her after her messy divorce.

It just goes to show how bad a wingman her best friend was.

Ruby asked her if she liked her grandmother and she remembered her response being vague and about happiness. Ruby walked away confused, but somehow it helped whatever she had going on with Archie.

She trembled as she opened the door and she blamed it on the dropping temperatures.

Lucille looked from the book and blue-green eyes met hazel and she looked at the leather bound book that was her mother's.

"You got them then," it was definitely harsh to her ears.

"Yes," she muttered as she approached the counter, taking out the card and placing it between them as she took the seat closest to the edge of the counter as she always did.

"It was you, the flowers I mean." Lucille said, her tone accusing her of something.

She nodded and pressed her finger tips together.

"My divorce was messy and it's not clear on why we ever got married in the first place, but it ended terribly and I swore I wouldn't fall in love with another man again and I've kept my word. Because I didn't fall in love with a man. I fell in love with you."

She looked into shocked green eyes and she smiled at the way she had surprised the grumpy widow.

"They call it bisexual, being attracted to both men and women. Marco is a bad wingman, but he was the one that suggested the Irises, they're supposed to be for crushes and they're pretty, I didn't know the association for you when I came back with daisies both hoping you could figure it out and dreading that you had and rejected me. It didn't help that Marco talked about you endlessly and I convinced myself you were straight and with Marco and I was trying my best to be supportive."

"The red tulips by my bedside after the surgery was also you," it was soft and perhaps hopeful.

She nodded.

"It was careless of course and I had heard from Marco when you were supposed to be back to work, despite Doctor Whale's orders to the contrary, and there you were. Out of the hospital, pushing yourself too far."

"I thought you and Marco were together then," the soft reply and the book closed and pressed between them next to the card.

"No. We dated as teenagers, but no. I've been hoping that you would catch on, as I was not exactly subtle in my hints."

Lucille laughed gruffly and to some it would sound aggravating but she found it charming. She wanted this grumpy old lady, and she was worried she might have messed it up.

A soft, but aged hand laid directly on top of hers and held tightly.

"I thought it was wishful thinking because I'm a grumpy old widow with a crush and too old for this foolishness."

She rested her other hand on top of Lucille's, "Perhaps, but I still very much like to get to know this grumpy old widow as more than friends."

The way Lucille searched her eyes as if she doubted, made her pull a hand away and tapped the card, "I feel the same, I think part of me was afraid of being hurt and that's why I never wrote my name or gave more than subtle hints. But you're braver than I am."

The green eyes softened and a trembling hand brushed some hair out of her face. The gentle touch made her close her eyes, something nagging at her brain for it felt familiar, intimately familiar.

"Joan, I—"

A strange feeling hit her and a breeze on her neck tickled mysteriously and the auditable gasp from—Lucille?

She opened her eyes and there before her…looking not a day older.

Her wife.

Green eyes met Hazel shocked, confused, teary-eyed and fingers curled even tighter against each other. Joan pressed her hand over the hand still on her cheek, moving it to kiss the familiar band she had placed there back when they were young and newly married.

"I'm home, my love, I found a way home," she whispered softly as she used her thumb to stroke her wife's hand.

#flowers #once upon a time #granny lucas #joan oc #granny x oc #bibabes #older bi women loving older biwomen #pining #mutual pining #joan x granny #lucille is granny's name #marco is a bad wingman #but he loves them both #birthday fic #my fics #my writing #part of a longer thing i will someday write

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