It all started in the library. Fitting,when you consider the involved parties. It was a cool Saturday evening, beams of light from a setting sun stream in from a window, lighting the room with a warm glow and turning the only occupants of the rooms brown hair to gold. Dipper watches Wirt write furiously from across the table, the sound of pen gliding across paper the only sound in the building.

"I wonder if he'll let me read this one…"

Dipper mused to himself. He had read Wirt's poetry before, but only a few times, Wirt was usually to self-conscious to allow it. Dipper knew that Wirt was putting a lot of effort and work into this particular poem, as he was entering a writing contest at school. It had taken a while for Dipper talk Wirt in to it, but in the end Wirt had given in, and was actually pretty excited about it. Not that he would admit it.

Suddenly, Wirt pushed his pushed his journal away from him, groaning and burying his head in his arms.

"I can't do this."

Wirt groaned.

"I'm only sixteen and I'm already a failed writer. Hello, boring office job and monotone boss, Hello clip on ties! We all knew I'd end up here eventually!"

Dipper stifled a laugh at his friends mello-dramatics.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"This! This is what's wrong! I can not believe that I let you talk me into entering this contest, and now my name is on the list permanently, a premonition to my future failed carrier."

"You'll do fantastic, Hell, I'm sure that just what you have now is better than anything else that's going to be entered."

Wirt groaned again, but pulled his journal back towards him and resumed writing. Dipper gave his best friend a fond look, and picked up the next book from his pile.

"The language of flowers."

The title read, in pretty swirled writing. Dipper blinked at it in surprise wondering how it had gotten mixed in with the stacks of books on ghost sightings in North America. Shrugging indifferently, Dipper flipped the book open, maybe it would be interesting.

One week later Dipper searches the crowd for his tall friend, a surprising amount of people had shown up for a writing contest award ceremony. In his right hand Dipper held his cell phone, In his left hand he held a small grouping of flowers held together with a loop of twine. The book from the library had got him thinking. He found the way that different flowers had been assigned meanings interesting, and had decide a bouquet of good sentiments would be a perfect gift for a nervous Wirt. Finally catching sight of Wirt among the crowd, Dipper hurried over.

Saying Wirt looked nervous would be an understatement. The poor guy looked as if he was about to start hyperventilating.

"Hey buddy!" Dipper greeted cheerfully, shoving his phone in his pocket.

"Hey…" Wirt responded, a little less enthusiastically while looking a bit pale.

"You okay?"

"Define okay."

"Are you about to lose your lunch onto my sneakers?"

Dipper elaborated.

"No… Or at least probably not."

"That's the spirit!"

Dipper said with a smirk. Wirt rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop the grin pulling at his lips.

"Dick."

"Hey hey! Be nice! I have a present for you."

Dipper said, the flowers hidden behind his back.

"A present?"

Wirt asked, a bit warily, looking Dipper up and down. It wasn't that he didn't trust Dipper per-se, but one could only get zombie hands in Christmas wrapping so many times without being a bit suspicious in the future.

"Don't make that face! It's a nice gift!"

Dipper pulled out the little bouquet, smiling. Wirt stared surprised at the flowers, blushing slightly.

"Uh, these are black-eyed susans, they're supposed to mean encouragement, and these are pear blossoms they symbolize lasting friendship, and these kind of ugly blue ones are called borage, they mean courage." He rushed out.

Awkwardly Dipper rubbed his neck staring at the ground, when his best friend pulled him into a hug.

"Thanks."

Wirt said smiling brightly as he released the shorter boy, touched by the gift.

"Wirt! Wirt!"

They heard,along with the sound of running feet. Greg popped out of the crowd.

"Wiiiiiiiiirt."

"Yes Greg?"

Wirt responded with exasperated fondness.

"They're announcing the winner!"

Greg shouted.

Wirt sucked in a breath and followed Greg.

To absolutely no one's surprise but Wirt's, Wirt won.

Later that night, when Dipper was about to lay down for the night, he saw a spring of sweet peas sitting on his window sill. One quick google search later and the message was received.

"Gratitude."

This is the first thing I've ever posted, so I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please leave a review telling me what you thought of it, and if you want to, leave what your favorite flower is and I'll try to work it in, in a future chapter. Thanks fore reading this :)