Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Crowley remembered the first day the man came into his shop. Crowley shouted a greeting when the door bell rang from the back of the shop, where he stood preparing orders that had been placed that week. The man barely acknowledged him, obviously occupied in thoughts as he slowly moved through the displays, searching through the bouquets and single stems the shop offered. His eyes zeroed in on what must have been the reason he was there for, Crowley noticed, for the briefest moments, the sadness in his eyes was replaced with a glimmer of joy.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Crowley asked as he walked up to the counter.

The man with vivid blue eyes and blonde hair so light it was almost white looked at him, voice quiet when he answered, “Yes. Thank you.”

Short, but polite. Crowley thought as he rang up his purchase.

“I’m glad. Dahlias are beautiful, but not all the shops ‘round here have ‘em.”

The man’s small, ephemeral smile as he focused on the bouquet in his hands tugged on his heartstrings. Clearly, he held an emotional attachment to those particular flowers.

“Take care.” Crowley offered a gentle smile, and his expression softened once more when he replied, “Thank you. You too.”

Crowley had a knack for remembering his customers. Especially the ones who clearly appreciate his flowers. His employee - a uni student named Adam- liked to joke that he just remember the hot ones, but that’s not always the case. And he remembered the handsome man with sad eyes who had an affection for dahlias and came into his shop every year on the same day. He remembered the laugh lines on his face when he looked at the dahlias. He remembered the tartan patterns of his bowtie. And the third time he came into his shop, he noticed that the man was no longer wearing his wedding ring, causing him to wonder if his partner was the one he was mourning.

Crowley got a late start to work, walking through the front door of his shop after enjoying a late wake up.

“Morning, kid,” Crowley called as he tied on his apron. “How’s the day going?”

His eyes glanced over their inventory list.

“Oh, Fuck, no no no.”

“Crowley?” Adam looked up from what he was arranging and glanced curiously at him.

“Shit, we’re out of dahlias.”

“Yeah, and Daisies, and waxflowers, and…”

“I need to call Tracy’s right away. They owe us one.”

“Crowley? What’s going on?”

Crowley held up a finger and the number he dialed began to ring. Adam could hear the moment the call went through.

“Hey, Tracy. It’s Crowley. I’m in need of some dahlias and I need them ASAP. Any colour would do. But yellow ones if you’ve got it. Yeah, ‘course I’ll hold. Thanks.”

He looked over at a curious Adam and moved his phone away. “One of our regulars, comes in on this day every year and buys a bouquet of dahlias. Never said much, but I get the feeling they’re for a deceased loved one. And I don’t have the heart to tell him we don’t have ‘em.”

Crowley moved the phone back to his ear when Tracy came back on the line. “You do?” Crowley grinned at Adam, but his smile quickly fell a second later. “Oh no. Y’sure you can’t squeeze us in between deliveries? No, we don’t have anyone today either.” Crowley nodded as he listened. “Okay, you know what?” He looked over at Adam, who was already nodding and passing the keys he had set on the counter. “I’m going to come get them myself. Be there ASAP. Leaving now, in fact.” He said, shooting Adam a look of gratitude.

“Go on then, go save the day.” Adam said with a wink and a nod towards the door.

“Thanks kid, ciao!” Crowley called over his shoulder.

“Welcome to Eden Floral Design. Let me know if you need help finding anything. My name’s Adam.”

The man gave him a nod of acknowledgement and a tight smile.

This is probably the man.

After a turn around the shop, the man headed towards the exit with a heavy sigh.

“You wouldn’t happen to be looking for dahlias, would you?”

At his words, the man paused and slowly turned to look at Adam. “Yes, I am actually. How did you…?”

“You walked directly to where we usually keep them, and they are the only ones in that section that’s out of stock.”

The other man was surprised by Adam’s reasoning and observation.

“We’re expecting a delivery, including dahlias, any moment,” Adam continued. Not exactly the truth, but close enough that he thought it might buy Crowley some time to get back before the man left. “If you’re alright with waiting, they should be here soon. There’s a great coffee shop next door if you don’t want to wait here. I could come let you know when they arrive.”

As if on cue, Crowley burst through the door, barely avoiding the man standing a few metres from the door, narrowly avoiding sending the both of them crashing down the floor.

The man reached for him, steadying them both. He looked at him-noticing his warm, light brown eyes, which were widened in surprise, and the dahlias he carried.

“This must be the delivery you mentioned,” the man said to Adam with a hint of amusement. “Looks like it’s only dahlias.”

Crowley walked over to the counter with the flowers, laying the selection out so the man could choose the ones he liked best.

He followed him, admiring the care with which Crowley arranged the bouquets, before looking at the flowers themselves.

“Crowley realized as soon as he came in this morning that you’d be here today and that we wouldn’t have what you’re looking for. Called in a favour with another florist and went to go pick them up himself.” Adam grinned.

The man was floored that someone would remember a customer who had only ever been there a few times over the years and more than that, would going out of their way to make sure he got what he was looking for. “You remembered me? And my order? When I bought it?”

Crowley shrugged, blushing under his profound gaze.

“I can’t believe you’d do that,” he said, his voice soft. “Thank you, Crowley. If you go out of your way to do something like that for me, I should probably introduce myself. I’m Aziraphale.” He offered him his hand, and he slid his hand into his.

“It’s nice to meet you, Aziraphale. This is Adam, my right-hand man.”

The man, Aziraphale, shook Adam’s hand next, but quickly returned his attention back to Crowley.

Aziraphale remembered him from every time before too, but he had been in too much of a fog to really notice him. He was at the periphery of his mind, his focus on those days was on finding his mother’s favourite flowers and visiting her grave, where he’d sit with her and talk while he played her favourite album quietly in the background.

But in that moment, his focus was on the man standing in front of him and the kindness he had shown him.

“You’ve got amazing memory,” he told him.

“He’s got a real knack for remembering her customers and their orders,” Adam added. “Even if he doesn’t know their names, he knows faces.”

At that, Aziraphale smiled gently.

He eyed the bouquet with peachy pink and yellow petals.

“I’ll take these,” Aziraphale said.

“Those are great choices,” Crowley said as he reached for the bouquet and started to gift wrap them.

As he watched him wrap the flowers, Aziraphale thought about how much his mother would have loved the shop and the care that Crowley and Adam showed their customers.

“Thank you both again.”

“I’m glad it worked out,” Crowley said.

“Me too,” Aziraphale replied with a brief smile.

Crowley and Adam waved goodbye to him, and as Aziraphale walked out the door, Crowley noticed that he seemed to have shed some of the weight that held him down. He hoped that the next time he saw him, that he would continue to let more of the light inside shine through. And maybe, if he was lucky, it wouldn’t be another year before the next time he saw him again.

“Hi, I’ll be right with you,” Crowley called out as he finished ringing up a purchase for a customer.

Aziraphale walked around the shop, looking for nothing in particular and feeling overwhelmed by all the options.

“Hi, Aziraphale. Anything I can help you find today?”

Hearing his voice as he approached him pulled at some instinct that made him smile.

“Crowley. Hello. Yes, I think I do need your help.”

“What is it you’re lookin’ for?”

“Flowers… for a, uh… for a first date,” he said bashfully. “A blind date, actually. It’s been…” Aziraphale sighed between words, “… a really long time since I’ve done this. I don’t even know if it’s a good idea. Do—do people even do this anymore?”

Crowley chucked and offered a kind smile. “They do. I’ll admit that it’s usually older—” Crowley caught himself mid-sentence and started to stumble over his words. “I mean, it’s not as common for guys in their teens or early 20s, 30s—”

“You mean young guys,” Aziraphale interjected with a smirk.

“I—I didn’t say that,” he tried to backtrack, but couldn’t help but smile as he watched the grin on his face become wider. “But if you insist… Young-er guys aren’t typically the ones who come in here and buy flowers for dates. But I would say it’s far from outdated. And I actually think it’s really sweet.”

Aziraphale was quiet when he spoke. “My mother used to say, ‘A gentleman should always bring flowers on a first date.’”

“She sounds like a smart woman.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said with a small smile. “She was.”

“D’you know anything ‘bout this blind date of yours?”

“His name is James. He’s a lawyer. And… that’s about it.”

Crowley smiled slowly. “I’ve got some ideas.”

Aziraphale followed him around the shop as he made suggestions, eventually choosing peach roses and white daisies, with purple statice and Peruvian lilies filling out the bouquet.

“I think you’ve made a great choice. James is going to love the flowers. And he’ll be impressed that you took time to pick out something special for him.”

“Thank you, Crowley. Once again, you’ve really come through for me.”

“All in a day’s work,” he said cheerfully. “Happy to help. I hope your date goes well.”

“Thank you.”

Aziraphale smiled, giving a small wave to Crowley before he left.

Aziraphale had been feeling apprehensive about going into the evening knowing so little about his date. There were unknown variables going into any new relationship, and more so for a blind date. But Crowley seemed to have a talent for putting him at ease, and talking to him had helped him shake off some of those first-date jitters.

As he walked out the door of the shop, he couldn’t help but hope that his date would be half as easy to talk to as Crowley was.

Crowley looked up when he heard the bell above the front door of his shop ring, his eyes brightening as he watched a smiling Aziraphale heading his way. “Another first date?” he asked, before making a tutting sound. “That doesn’t bode well for the last one. Please tell me you’re not going to blame it on the flowers,” he teased lightly.

“The flowers were great. The date, on the other hand, was… a little bit of a disaster,” he admitted.

“Oh, no,” Crowley said.

“Yes, unfortunately, I should have known better than to let one of my friends set me up on a blind date with a lawyer. He was nice and everything started off fine. But as soon as I recommended the dessert and he told me he was on a strict diet…” he shook his head, ”That was just the beginning of finding out we really didn’t have anything in common.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged. “It’s all right. It was time. That was…” he paused before continuing. Crowley was practically a stranger, but something about him made him feel like he could tell him anything. “It was my first date since my divorce. Time to rip off the Band-Aid or however you want to phrase it.”

Crowley nodded sympathetically. “He was your bad pancake.”

“My—what?”

“Your bad pancake. The Bad Pancake theory?” he asked.

Aziraphale shook his head, not understanding what he was talking about.

“It means…” Crowley said as he rounded the counter, coming to stand in front of him. “… that the first person you go out with after a failed relationship is destined to burn, just like the first pancake in the batch. Your first pancake is the experiment,” he said with a shrug. “It’s almost expected to fail.”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

Crowley leaned a hip on the counter and took him in, noticing the way his light blue shirt hugged his soft middle and brought out the blue of his eyes. Save for the time he crashed into him, it was the closest they’d ever stood, and she was able to appreciate the subtle sweet scent he wore and some scent he couldn’t place that must have just been Aziraphale.

Crowley could feel the attention of his gaze on him and felt a blush begin to creep onto his cheeks. It was a subtle, almost shy examination of him, but the thought that this handsome, kind, single man was checking him out had him feeling confident about himself in a way he hadn’t felt for far too long.

“Are you looking for anything in particular today?”

“I need something for my friend’s birthday. Nice enough to say, ‘I know I should be a better friend,’ but nothing that’s going to show up what her fiance gives her.”

“Does your friend have a favourite colour?”

“Purple,” he said. “Or at least I think that is.” Aziraphale thought about it a moment longer. “She had purple dresses. Let’s go with that.”

“Okay,” Crowley said with a smile. “D’you trust me?”

“Do I have any other choice?” Aziraphale asked with a laugh. “I’m at your mercy to make me look like a decent friend.”

“Bet you’re a better friend than you think. Gimme just a sec,” he said, before going to the back and returning with a plastic bucket containing a little water.

“Tell me more about your friend?” Crowley asked. He listened while Aziraphale told him about Anathema, using the bits of information he shared to help him select the blooms that would make the perfect arrangement for her—a blend of various hues of purple, with some complimentary shades of blue added in for good measure.

Crowley cut the stems and arranged them in a vase while they continued to chat about his plans for the weekend—how he was looking forward to spending the weekend with the only friend he considers his family.

“Oh, these look wonderful, Crowley. Anathema’s going to love them,” Aziraphale said, locking eyes with Crowley while they shared a smile. “The only thing is… how do I transport these in my car without ruining your work?”

Crowley grinned at him. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered.”

Crowley was finishing up an order while he chatted with one of his long-time customers, listening as they updated him on their life since the last time they had visited his shop, when he saw him enter.

“Hey, Aziraphale,” he said with a smile.

He waved and returned his smile before looking around the shop, but as soon as the other customer left, Crowley’s eyes started searching for Aziraphale instead. To his delight, he was already headed his way.

“Which flowers say ‘I’m sorry my cat chased your cat up a tree,’ yet hides the fact that what I really want to say is, ‘What kind of idiot lets their indoor cat outside and expects different results?’” He asked with a wry smile.

He let out a laugh.

“Okay, you’re definitely going to want something that’s not toxic to cats, or the cat in the tree will be the least of your worries.”

Aziraphale smiled. “These are for my new neighbour, and I’d really like to avoid any more issues if I can help it.”

“Well, some options would be Gerbera daisies, orchids, asters, roses, zinnias… But if it were me, I’d go with African violets. A classic houseplant that’s relatively low-maintenance. And I have some in plastic pots that should be fairly cat-proof.”

“I knew I came to the right person.”

Crowley mock-gasped. “You would consider going to another florist?”

“Never,” he told him with a smile. And when he spoke, he let himself get a little lost in his smile and the sparkle in his eyes. Crowley couldn’t help but smile back.

What are you doing, Crowley? He asked himself. He’s here as a customer, not a potential boyfriend.

“Lemme show you where the violets are so you can pick one out.”

“That is a surprising amount of options when I was expecting just, you know, violet,” he said when they arrived in front of the selection.

Crowley stifled a giggle. God, who am I around him? He couldn’t think of the last time a guy made him feel giddy like he did.

“That’s a, um, common misconception,” he said, biting back a smile. “They’re called violets because when they were discovered, they resembled true violets, and the only variety was a purplish-blue colour. But thanks to all the hybridization that’s occurred over the years, there are different sizes, shapes, petals, and of course, colours available now.”

Aziraphale was enamored with him. He was certainly beautiful, but he was also funny and smart and incredibly kind. He knew better than to mistake the kindness shown to a customer by someone in the service industry as any sort of personal or romantic interest. And even though there was a deeper instinct that was telling him this was different—that Crowley was different, he knew it was best to proceed with caution.

Aziraphale selected one of the African violets and after sharing a smile with Crowley, followed him to the checkout.

Crowley bypassed the rack of greeting cards near the register and pulled out a small box of cards from one of the shelves behind the counter. He riffled through the cards, his eyes brightening when he found the one he was looking for.

“Now add one of these,” he showed him the card reading I’m Sorry, and had a cartoon cat making sad, apologetic eyes drawn next to it, “and the incident with your neighbour’s cat will be a thing of the past.”

Aziraphale cracked a smile. “The fact that you even have this as an option…”

“I like to keep a few odd cards on hand for when the occasion arises,” he explained simply.

Aziraphale gazed at him thoughtfully, transfixed by him, by the warmth that he exuded, which was altogether enchanting.

Crowley busied himself with packaging up and putting away the rest of the cards, taking a moment to try to calm the fluttering in his chest. He barely knew Aziraphale, but there was something about him that intrigued him, that made him enjoy having him around—and maybe more than he should have since he was turning into a regular customer. Or at least that was his hope. He was already eagerly awaiting the next time he visited his shop again.

Because in addition to the fact that he was just plain easy on the eyes, Aziraphale was also funny and sweet, and his attention had him feeling flushed in the best possible way.

Nobody else was around. Well, there was Adam in the back working on an order for a banquet. But no other customers in need of her help. And he didn’t want Aziraphale to go just yet.

Aziraphale was making a conscious effort to pump the brakes on the feelings that had started him on a course heading straight for him. But then Crowley asked him a question and he couldn’t help but indulge him.

“Do you have pictures of your cat?” he asked, feeling a little apprehensive about trying to prolong his stay.

“A few,” Aziraphale smiled. “I haven’t had him for too long.”

He could probably see his phone just fine from where he was standing behind the counter, but he wanted to stand next to him, and was that really so bad? So he moved closer.

“What’s his name?”

“William.”

Aziraphale told him the story of rescuing the cat and naming him William, a nod to his love for the old bard Shakespeare. Crowley could tell from his voice that he had a soft spot for his cat, and he knew he had developed a soft spot for Aziraphale.

“… and then he chasing and scratching at the cat, scaring it right up the tree. I’ve been a professor for over a decade dealing with young students, but I think I have my work cut out for me with this cat.”

When he smiled like that, Crowley could feel his heart picking up speed.

“He seems like a sweetheart.”

“He is,” Aziraphale said. And he held back the impulse to say that he wanted Crowley and William to meet. Where did that come from? He wondered. There was no doubt that he was drawn to Crowley and he didn’t need flowers for his neighbour, but he was able to convince himself that it was a good idea. And if Crowley just so happened to be working that day, he wouldn’t mind seeing him. Wouldn’t mind seeing him. Well, if that wasn’t an understatement. That’d be like saying that he only kind of likes Oscar Wilde.

The bell rang above the shop door, disturbing the moment of quietude both Crowley and Aziraphale had been enjoying.

“Hi, Mrs. Hughes. I’ll be right with you,” Crowley called out to the older woman.

“I should probably get going. I will see you next time, Crowley.”

It was amazing that two little words, next time, could make him feel like he was floating on air.

“Aziraphale?”

He turned to look at him, his pulse quickening when he met his eyes.

“You might want to take that with you,” Crowley said, nodding his head in the direction of the potted plant sitting abandoned on the counter.

“Right. Of course.” He could feel the tips of his ears turning red as he bashfully picked up his violets. “Wouldn’t want to forget the reason I came here.”

“See you next time, Aziraphale,” he said with a shy smile.

He flustered him in a way that he hadn’t felt in years. And he hoped his motive for coming into his shop that day wasn’t completely transparent. He felt like his light brown eyes, which looked almost amber when he stood in the sun, could see right through him.

Aziraphale was already thinking of more reasons to buy flowers so he could see him again.