"You're a florist," Yunho balked, "You have those crazy muscles with those six pacs but you're a freaking florist."

 

Jaejoong grinned dangerously, t the stem of a flower he held in his hands, "You've got a problem here, Jung Yunho?"

 

Yunho blushed, trying to ignore the fact that Jaejoong had deliberately whispered his name to throw him off balance. He definitely knew that Yunho was susceptible to the sedative effects of his voice, which means that Jaejoong was  doing this on purpose to manipulate him to change the topic on hand. Well, Yunho sure as hell was not going to make this easy for him.

 

He shook his head, "I just can't believe this. The hot muscular guy I lusted the entire day for is actually a florist. One would think that with all the glorious muscles you have, you would be a gym instructor or an athelete, but no, no, muscular Jaejoong doesn’t think this way. He trains to put all those good muscles in t stems and arranging flowers. It makes perfect sense to him. He is perfectly content in being Jaejoong the muscular florist."

 

Jaejoong narrowed his eyes; clearly unappreciative of the way Yunho described his job. Yunho shrugged in reply, oblivious to the growing anger that was consuming Jaejoong. Annoyance clear in his tone, Jaejoong glared  at Yunho, speaking in chopped sentences as he jabbed a finger into Yunho’s chest with every word that he spoke.

 

"You. Will. Not. Speak. To. Me. Again. Until. You. Have. Learned. To. Respect. Me. And. My. Flowers.”

 

Then, throwing the flower that he was previously t at Yunho’s dumbstruck face, Jaejoong marched away in anger, pausing at the door to deliver one last sentence,

 

“By the way, that’s Geranium that I just threw at you,” he turned around to smile at Yunho darkly, “and guess what, it symbolises stupidity which is clearly an accurate description for the complete dickhead that you are being right now. Congratulations on receiving that as the first flower from me.”

 

Jaejoong grinned before slamming the door so hard Yunho thought its hinges were going to fall off its door frame.

 

Oh boy, Yunho thought to himself as he stared at the abused door before him, he was so screwed. 

A random muse struck me, hence, this pile of words. I might continue this after The Phone Call is done. Who knows? Anyone interested in florist Jae? ;DD