Well, That Was A Thing (Good Omens One-Shots)

37; I Knew You'd Understand

Context: I know I've mentioned/used flower language in a fic or two before, but one more can't hurt.

Aziraphale had always suspected that Crowley had something to do with the creation of flower language, but the subject had never naturally come up when they were together. Not until now.

Word Count: 2,500

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"Angel, tell me why it's so important that you find this specific book." Said the demon while perusing the names on the shelves.

"Well dear boy, it was never really mine to begin with. I've been holding it for a human friend of mine, Henry Freedman, and he meeds it back now."

That got Crowley's attention. "And exactly how did you end up book-sitting? I don't believe I've ever seen you happy to part with a book."

"I owed him a favor. He needed somewhere safe to keep his favorite poetry book while they fixed a piping issue in his home. There was a lot of flooding and he didn't want it getting ruined."

"In comes the guardian of the eastern gate to the rescue. Honestly, it's surprising you're not the patron saint of the written word or something like that." Teased Crowley.

Aziraphale batted him on the arm. "Oh, hush. Anyhow, the issue's been dealt with and he wants it back."

"How valuable is this thing if he didn't want it getting ruined?"

"It's more sentimental than monetary. I don't think he spent £10 on it." Admitted the angel.

"Wouldn't have expected something so cheap among your most prized collection pieces."

The blond entity nodded. "Indeed. Though, I thought it was rather sweet, so I simply had to help."

"What makes it so important to him?" By now, he had completely forgotten about the shelf and was more interested in asking questions.

"His wife passed away a few years ago. They were expecting it, but it still hurt him, of course. In the book, he and his wife would write commentary along the page borders. Sometimes they would joke about the poem because it made no sense, or was awful. If it was sweet, they'd leave a comment saying so. Most of the time, they would underline or circle something they felt for the other."

The redhead smirked. "Bet that drove you up the wall, writing all over a book. Tarnishing it and whatnot."

"At first, yes. But when he showed me some of the pages, I could feel the love oozing from them. This was something intimate of theirs. Something he wanted to keep safe because it's something to remember her by. I can't fault him for that."

Crowley didn't know what to say to that, so he nodded, cleared his throat and changed the subject as they continued their search.

~~~~~

The pair took much longer than expected, but they did eventually find the book. Really, Aziraphale should have known better than to let Henry put it away while he was busy negotiating with another rare book dealer over the phone. As the angel was pulling it out from the shelf, the one to its left fell and opened upon impact, sending dead flowers and dust all over the floor. Before he could react, Crowley was already kneeling to pick it up and clean up the mess. He would've used a miracle, but he knew Aziraphale hated when he did that in relation to his books (with the only exception being when he saved his books from that bomb in 1941).

A quick nod and a thank you was all he did before making his way over to the phone. As he called Henry to inform him he had found his book, Crowley took a closer look at the one in his hands. The cover was a powder blue, the word 'Diary' was written in silver, cursive letters. He had no idea Aziraphale kept a diary. And though he knew he probably shouldn't take a peek inside it, he was still a demon and those flowers had gotten out and they needed to be put back in place. So, if caught, he'd have a reason for it. Not a good excuse, perhaps, but he had one in his back pocket nonetheless.