Smurfy Love

Chapter 2: Chapter 5: Unexpected

Grouchy Smurf had long since mastered the art of keeping expectations low, especially when it came to things like Valentine's Day. Over the years, he’d made it clear — repeatedly and loudly — that he hated everything about the holiday; the pink hearts, the sappy love notes, the endless smooching, all of it. And thus nosmurf ever dared to include him in any romantic celebrations, which suited him just fine.

So when Vanity spent the entire day avoiding him, Grouchy told himself he didn’t care. He hated the holiday and knew Vanity didn't celebrate beyond bragging about how many cards he'd gotten, it wasn't like he'd expected anything romantic. He didn't care.

…But he did care, was the thing. Just a little.

Because not celebrating was one thing, but outright avoiding him? That was another.

Vanity was self-obsessed, Grouchy knew that, he'd never resented it. And it wasn't like Grouchy even wanted flowers or chocolates or whatever ridiculous nonsense Smurfs typically gave each other to say 'I love you'.

But he and Vanity spent most days together, they had since they were Smurflings and the behavior only increased once they became a... thing. It was normal. Familiar. Routine.

Then suddenly, without warning, Vanity was nowhere to be found. And Grouchy was alone. Which, contrary to popular belief, was not his preferred state of being.

Grouchy scowled harder than usual as he stomped through the village, hands clenched into fists, a black cloud practically visible around him. He barely noticed as other Smurfs scrambled out of his way in fright, he was too caught up in his own darker-than-normal thoughts.

Fine, then. If Vanity didn’t want Grouchy around, he wouldn't be around. He would just go for a walk, one of the few activities he actually enjoyed though he'd never admit, and clear his head far away from Vanity.

The air was crisp, the sky bright, and Grouchy wandered far enough that he found himself at the edge of a small meadow. He paused, looking at a group of wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze.

Grouchy frowned. He hated flowers, of course, as he hated everything. He hated flowers... Except for how they smelled, which wasn't always terrible. And except for how they looked, which was usually pretty. And except for how Vanity loved to wear one behind his ear, though it was usually cloth and jewels made to look like a flower rather than the real thing, which he claimed added to his 'nearly unbearable smurfiness'.

So yes, Grouchy hated everything about flowers. Except for how they reminded him of Vanity and his stupid perfumes and his even stupider gorgeous face.

Before he could think about it too much, Grouchy knelt down, roughly plucking a small handful of the most vibrant ones.

Grouchy had always hated Valentine's Day. He still did. He just… didn’t hate Vanity. And maybe he hadn't done a good enough job of showing that, if the other had decided not to even say hi on the holiday. Grouchy wasn't one for gifts, but lov– not-hate was about effort, right? He could make a little effort, couldn't he?

Ah, why not? His reputation was already shot to Hell from how often he held Vanity's hand, and one little gift couldn't possibly do more damage to it than that did. Grouchy was going to go for it.

When he returned to Blossom, the sun was beginning to set. Smurfs were laughing, sharing sweets, exchanging gifts. Grouchy ignored them, heading straight to the bright pink Mushroom that was Vanity's home. He didn’t bother knocking, he rarely did, he just pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Vanity, sitting at his vanity (where else?), gasped. “Grouchy! What a surprise." He smiled warmly. “I was smurfing for you earlier, but everysmurf said you smurfed off to the forest. I tried to follow you but, ugh, the light filtering through the canopy is simply awful today — I couldn't bear to let my face be marred by such splotchy patterns. You understand, I hope.”

Grouchy hesitated. Vanity had gone looking for him? Entirely against his will, Grouchy felt something deep inside himself warm at the thought that Vanity wasn't avoiding him anymore.

Clearing his throat, he shoved the small bouquet he'd picked toward Vanity. “Here.”

Vanity blinked, gaze flickering away from his hand mirror and towards the flowers. “What…?”

Grouchy shifted awkwardly and crossed his arms roughly, his scowl deepening. “To put behind your ear,” he muttered.

Vanity's eyes widened and his smile brightened in delight. He snatched the flowers, holding them close as he beamed. “Oh, Grouchy! These are absolutely smurfy! And just think of how much more gorgeous they'll look once they have the honor of being worn by me, hmm?”

Grouchy looked away, blushing, as Vanity arranged the bouquet in one of the many vases he kept on pedestals around his house. 

Vanity paused, snapping his fingers. “Oh, that reminds me!” He turned to grab Grouchy’s wrist, pulling him across the room. “I have something for you too, old friend, something nearly as wonderful as I am. Try not to faint from such perfection all gathered in one place, won't you?”

He stopped in front of a long, flat, rectangular shape covered by a white sheet. He made sure Grouchy was looking at it before pulling the sheet off with a flourish.

Grouchy blinked.

It was a portrait of the two of them, sitting on soft, fluffy clouds. The colors were gentle, dreamy. Vanity was, of course, posed perfectly, his beauty on full display as he stared into his ever present mirror. Grouchy was sitting next to him, arms uncrossed, his softest frown on his face.

That particular frown was as close as Grouchy typically got to a contented expression. But it was just the two of them there, him and Vanity, so for once he let a small smile tug at his lips. "I love clouds," he whispered quietly, part of him not wanting even Vanity to hear him admit liking something.

And it was true. He did love clouds. Always had. He'd almost named himself Cloudgazing Smurf, once upon a time, before he'd discovered his life's passion of becoming the grouchiest Smurf to ever live.

Vanity pressed a hand to his chest dramatically. “You would not believe how difficult it was getting Painter to capture my exact level of perfection. I had to have him redo an entire section because he smurfed my flower two smurfimeters too far to the left — can you even imagine such horror?!”

Grouchy barely heard him. He was still staring at the painting, at the clouds, at the warmth of it all.

“So...” Vanity trailed off, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. He was still looking at his mirror, but for once his full attention was on Grouchy. “You do like it, don't you?”

“It's not too terrible,” Grouchy grumbled, looking away again, his small smile fading as if it was never there. “I guess I don't hate it.”

Another Smurf might've gotten annoyed at the lackluster response, but Vanity knew him too well to mistake it as anything other than glowing praise. He grinned, leaning in to place a quick, almost chaste kiss on Grouchy’s cheek. Grouchy’s blush returned with a vengeance, but he didn’t move away.

With a fond shake of his head, Vanity twirled back around and moved across the room, picking through the flowers Grouchy had brought. “Now, which one should I smurf first? This one complements my eyes wonderfully, you smurfed it well, but this one really brings out my–

Grouchy, arms crossed, stood beside him, listening quietly.

He didn’t hate it when Vanity ranted about dumb things like flowers and patchy sunlight and mirrors.

In fact, one might even say — if they were very brave and very far from Grouchy's earshot — that he loved it.