Fic: Overdue 1/1

[secretshipper]

Title: Overdue
Rating: PG
Word Count: 8,500
Synopsis: Written for a prompt on the meme where Nick is a librarian and David is a library patron.
Author's note: Since we're all having an old fic day, here's something that I never managed to finish on the meme, and have just put an (admittedly very short) ending to here. The prompt asked for library sex, but unfortunately the story got away from me so much that I couldn't quite manage it.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Didn't really happen and is unlikely to.



The first time David noticed the new librarian was when he was returning two books that he had borrowed the previous month. The man was sitting quietly behind the circulation desk flipping through a paperback, a battered yellow pencil tucked snugly behind his left ear.

As David approached, the man looked up and smiled, setting his book down and standing to greet David with a friendly, “Hello.”

“Afternoon,” David replied, placing his books on the counter. “I need to return these. I'm afraid they are a day late.”

Still smiling, the librarian picked up the barcode scanner and ran it over both of David's books in turn, before placing them onto the trolley that held the other returned books. He turned back to David and said, almost apologetically, “You have an overdue fee to pay.”

“Of course,” David nodded, digging into his pocket for some change. “How much?”

“Thirty pence.”

David rummaged through the handful of coins, picking out the requested amount and handing it over. The librarian smiled again and thanked him, quickly ringing the overdue charge through the cash register and giving David a receipt, and David left the desk to choose some new books, watching from the corner of his eye as the other man retrieved his paperback and went back to his reading.

Twenty minutes later when David returned, clutching his choices in his hand, the new librarian was nowhere to be seen. In his place was the short-haired lady who usually tended the reference desk and who David knew to be Caroline. She politely asked for his card and checked out his books, informing him that they were due back in four weeks.

As David left the library, he caught sight of the new librarian placing books back onto the shelves, the yellow pencil still poking out from behind his ear.

***

Three weeks later, when David had finished reading the books he had chosen on his last visit, he left his office during his lunch hour and walked to the library, intending to pick something new that he could read in bed that evening. It was something of a nightly ritual, and David found that it helped him to settle down after a long day at work.

He was about to go inside when he spotted the new librarian sitting by himself on a bench in the small, fenced off garden next to the library. In one hand the man held a paper cup containing a beverage of some kind, and in the other was another paperback, which the librarian was engrossed in reading, eyes dancing across the page in front of him. In the bright August sunshine the man's hair glinted auburn, and the cuffs of his light blue shirt were undone, sleeves rolled part-way to his elbows. Behind his ear was the same yellow pencil David had noticed before, though it looked a little shorter now, protruding barely an inch above the tip of his ear. There was a half-eaten sandwich wrapped in cling film on the bench next to him.

David had taken an unconscious step toward the librarian before he stopped himself; it would he rude to disturb the man during his lunch break, especially when they did not know each other, so David turned and went into the library.

By the time David had picked two new books to replace the ones he had returned, the librarian was back behind the circulation desk, chatting quietly to Caroline as he placed protective sleeves on a stack of books and affixed stickers that contained the classification number to their spines, writing them in neat numbers with a ball point pen and then marking them as completed on a list in front of him.

“So how about it?” the librarian asked, the question obviously intended for Caroline.

“I don't know, Nick,” Caroline said as she arranged books on the sorting trolley. “Are you sure you can't find anyone else to go with you?”

“I've tried, believe me. Please? It would be a huge favour.”

“I'll have to check with the other half,” Caroline answered. “What should I tell him?”

Nick stopped working and turned to Caroline, smiling. “Tell him that your friend, your very, very trustworthy friend, needs a plus one for a wedding so he isn't fixed up with bridesmaids left and right,” he said.

Caroline laughed softly, picking up a stack of oversized books. “I would have thought you'd be the last person to avoid bridesmaids. Weren't you something of a Casanova in uni?”

Shaking his head, Nick chuckled, in an ironical tone, “Yes, I bedded hundreds, and now I'm thoroughly shagged out.”

David, frozen to the spot, made a noise something between a squeak and a croak, and Nick looked around, a gentle flush creeping onto his cheeks as he realised the conversation had been overheard. Caroline nudged him with her elbow.

“That's it, Nick,” she said under her breath, but loudly enough for David to hear, “tell everyone why don't you?” Grinning widely, Caroline took her pile of books and walked away in the direction of the reference library.

Holding his books out in front of him, David stepped forward to the circulation desk and placed them on the smooth, wooden surface. Nick smiled at him shyly, eyes meeting David's for a fraction of a second before flicking down to the books below. “Returns?” Nick asked, his voice low and soft, and a slight nervous edge creeping into the word, making it waver.

“No,” David replied, watching in silence as the man before him nodded and opened the first of the books to the page that held the barcode and the sheet of paper where the return dates of previous borrowers were stamped in untidy rows. He ran the reader over the barcode and looked at David expectantly, eyes asking a question that David could not decipher.

Under the unexpected scrutiny of the grey-blue eyes, David felt his cheeks begin to heat, perhaps in embarrassment at his unintentional eavesdropping or perhaps because he suddenly realised that he knew the name of the new librarian without the man having introduced himself.

“I'll-” Nick cleared his throat. “I need your card.”

“Oh,” David exclaimed softly. He fumbled for his wallet, flipping it open and searching through it until he found his library card. Passing it across the counter to the waiting hand of the librarian, David tried to disguise his discomfiture as he waited for Nick to check his books out on the computer.

“You like Paul Murray?” Nick asked as he opened the second of David's choices; a book called Skippy Dies. It had been recommended to David by a friend, and this was the second time he had borrowed it, having not finished reading it the first.

“He's okay,” David shrugged, not sure what else to say and feeling awkward at the stilted attempt at conversation. He knew that Nick was not interested in his literary tastes and that the question had been intended to deflect Nick's own discomfort at having the discussion of his apparent promiscuity during his university years overheard by a stranger. Not that that mattered at all to David. What the librarian may or may not have done during his youth was no concern of his, and besides, judging by the look of him, David guessed that it must have been some twenty years ago - much like himself.

Nick finished running the books through the computer and handed them back to David, placing David's library card on top, and David thanked him and turned to leave, only to stop as the librarian called out to him.

“Yes,” David said as he faced the desk again. Nick was holding out a colourful bookmark.

“We're giving these away today when people borrow books,” Nick explained, once again looking shy and apologetic.

David blinked and then stretched out his free hand to take the proffered item, repeating his words of thanks as he slipped it between the pages of his topmost book for safekeeping. The librarian flashed him a smile and went back to the task of placing protective sleeves onto the new paperbacks.

***

Nick was not at the circulation desk when David next visited the library. Instead, David was greeted by the tall librarian named Edward, whose attempts at a friendly smile always came out looking more like an angry glare. David returned his books quickly and retreated into the stacks, slipping around the corner to the fiction section and thumbing absently through the titles.

It was only a week since he was last here; the books he had chosen had been surprisingly easy reading and he had finished them quicker than was usual. With no idea what he was in the mood to read, David stared blankly at the lines of books.

“I don't know why you don't just ask him out if you like him.”

The statement came from behind the shelf that David was standing in front of. It was the voice of the female librarian, Caroline.

A few seconds later, Nick's voice answered, “Sure, Caroline. I can picture that. 'Excuse me, I'm Nick. You have dubious taste in books but would you like to go for coffee?'” Nick's tone was sarcastically dejected. “Anyway, how would I explain the whole uni business?”

There were a few thuds of books being placed on the shelves as Caroline said, “You are too sensitive about that, you know. Everyone knows that Morgan is a complete liar.”

“It didn't stop the rumours though, did it?” Nick responded sharply.

“Come on,” Caroline soothed, “the only person who believes those is Ed, and you don't even like him so what does it matter?” The conversation faded in volume and David found himself stepping to one side so he could hear what was being said. “What have you got to lose?” Caroline asked. “He might like you too.”

“That's beside the point and you know it. He's a customer.”

More books were put onto the shelves and David suddenly realised that he was standing at the end of the row and could see the book trolley poking out beyond the shelves. Cursing to himself, he grabbed the first book his hand found and pretended to be deeply immersed in reading the plot summary on the back cover. He glanced up briefly as Nick and Caroline rounded the corner and saw Nick frown at him, obviously annoyed that David had once again overheard a personal conversation. Feeling guilty for deliberately listening in on them, David looked back down at the book in his hand, remaining silent as the pair quickly stacked the shelves and disappeared into the next row, then he took the book he was holding and moved further away to the featured novels on the end of the shelves.

When Nick's head poked out from behind the other end of the aisle, David kept studying the titles in front of him, picking one up in order to appear uninterested in the librarian and his discussion of a customer whom he apparently liked.

But the truth was that David was not uninterested, quite the opposite. He was intrigued by the quiet little library drama that was unfolding in what he had always considered to be a dull and uneventful place. Who was 'Morgan' and what had they said that had caused rumours about Nick's personal life? More importantly, just who was this customer with his dubious taste in books? And why was Nick so adamant about not asking him out? David could not imagine anyone refusing the advances of the attractive librarian, with his shy smile and the cheerful yellow pencil behind his ear.

David could see Nick still looking at him from the corner of his eye, so he stepped around to the next row, out of sight. A few seconds later he heard muffled voices as Nick and Caroline continued their conversation. David strained his ears to hear what was being said but could not make it out, and resigned himself to the mystery. He did not want to follow them around the library, that would make it obvious that he was listening to them.

Looking down at the two books he had picked up without any care, David decided that he might as well borrow then and see if they were any good. The first was called Solar and the second, which he had picked up from the featured novels section, was something called Molloy by Samuel Beckett. He was not really interested in reading either book, but his lunch hour was almost over and he did not have time to pick anything else.

Making his way to the desk, David saw that both the returns trolley and Nick were back behind the counter. Caroline was gone, presumably back to the reference library, and Edward was sitting at the clerical desk typing something into the computer there. David would have preferred to avoid Nick, and judging by the look on Nick's face the feeling was mutual. However, when David plonked his books down on the desk, the novel by Beckett on top, Nick's eyes lit up.

“Oh, Beckett,” Nick gasped, grinning at David with evident delight. “He's my favourite!”

Behind where Nick was standing, Edward muttered for Nick to keep his voice down, and David saw Nick bite his lip, still smiling as he rolled his eyes. “Have you read much of his work,” Nick whispered.

“Not really, no,” David confessed, thinking that honesty was probably better in order to avoid being drawn into a conversation.

“Oh, well this is as good a place to start as any, I suppose,” Nick said as he scanned the barcodes of both books and took David's library card. “If you finish this one you should read Malone Dies.”

David nodded. He might not read the book at all, although it would give him something to talk to Nick about when he next visited the library, and he preferred it when Nick smiled at him instead of frowning. Nick handed his card back, fingers brushing against David's and making David jump slightly as an unexpected tingle shot up his arm at the contact. He pocketed the card and picked up his books hurriedly. “Late back from lunch,” he said, with no idea why he was explaining his quick exit.

“Won't keep you then,” Nick replied. “See you next time.”

“Yes.”

With brisk steps, David exited the library and walked along the street.

***

David was back at the library by the end of the very same week. Having decided within two pages that Solar was not for him, he had moved on to Molloy and found it oddly compelling, enough so that he had finished it within three days.

It was a strange and somewhat circular story, and left David with the impression that the two main characters (Molloy and Moran) were in fact the same person. He wondered if Nick thought the same, and found that he could not wait to ask him.

Unfortunately, when David walked up to the circulation desk, Nick was not there. It was being attended by a short, blond-haired man who David had never seen before. Unlike any of the other library employees, the man was wearing a name tag, which said simply: Mr Laws. David left his books on the counter and walked to the shelves, hoping to find Nick sorting the returns. He located the trolley quickly, it stood unattended in a quiet corner of the library. A few feet away, Edward was juggling with a pile of books; slotting them efficiently into their proper places. David frowned.

Walking back through the library, David entered the reference section and spied Caroline sat behind her desk. He made his way over to her nervously, fixing a deliberately casual smile to his face. “Hello,” he greeted her quietly.

Caroline looked up. “Help you?”

“I, uh, I was wondering if you had seen Nick?” David asked, shuffling on his feet.

“Nick? He's off today. Anything I can help you with?”

“No, well yes, maybe,” David mumbled. “The last time I was here he said something about a book by Samuel Beckett.”

“Oh,” Caroline gasped, eyes going suddenly wide. “You're the Beckett fan. I think he left it behind the desk for you. You can ask the temp.”

“The temp?”

“Blond guy. Name's Laws,” Caroline explained. “He's covering for Nick while he's off.”

“Thank you,” David said as he walked back in the direction of the main library.

“Any time,” Caroline called from behind him.

“Yes, of course I've seen the article.” David heard someone say as he appraoched the main area of the library.

“So what do you thi-”

“I think,” interrupted a snappy male voice, “that it is none of my business. Or yours.”

“Oh come on,” Edward replied, and David stopped just shy of rounding the corner to the circulation desk. “He's the one who agreed to do the interview.”

“He agreed to an interview about his thoughts on Beckett, that's why Morgan was fired after he ran that article.” The sound of papers being shuffled drifted in David's direction before the speaker continued, “And I don't think it's appropriate for you to gossip about your work colleague.”

“Just talking,” Edward said defensively.

“Then just talk about something else will you. It's been three years, and I'm sure Nick has had enough of the rumours.”

Edward huffed indignantly and said, “I'm going for lunch.” His footsteps retreated, and David waited a few moments before stepping out from his hiding place and approaching the desk. Laws was scratching something onto a piece of paper, irritation plainly visible on his face.

“Excuse me,” David said in a small voice, not wanting to anger the man further.

Laws looked at him, the anger in his features softening a little. “Yes?”

“Caroline said that you might know about a book that was left for me? It's by Samuel Beckett.”

“Ah, yes,” Laws smiled, ducking under the counter and rummaging around for a few moments before straightening and handing a battered paperback to David. “He did mention it before he left.”

David eyed the book he had been given, Malone Dies. It was in terrible shape for a library book, the cover was being held in place only by the protective sleeve and it was clearly older than most of the books here. David fished in his pocket and took out his library card, holding it out to the temp, who looked at him in confusion.

“It's not a library book,” Laws said finally. “You don't need your card.”

“Oh.”

“He said you can bring it back when you are finished. Hopefully he'll be better by then, eh?”

“Better?” David echoed questioningly, frowning slightly as he slipped the book into the pocket of his raincoat. “He's not unwell is he?”

“Didn't you hear?” Laws asked, tilting his head to one side. David shook his head, and Laws continued, “He fell off of one of the ladders in the storage area and busted his hip. Probably would have been fine if not for the skiing accident.”

“Oh, I hope he is okay!” David exclaimed, suddenly worried. Laws patted him gently on the arm.

“He's fine, but the doctor made him take a week off. He's not happy about that, as you can imagine.”

“Right,” David agreed, confused about why everyone seemed to think he knew anything about Nick at all. Aside from a short conversation about Beckett and what he had overheard during his time in the library, David knew very little. “I should get back to work.”

Laws nodded. “I'll tell him you stopped by.”

“Thank you,” David said, retreating to the door. Outside, he pulled the paperback from his pocket and opened it to the first page. There, written in neat handwriting, was a short message from someone named Paddy, thanking Nick for his help and declaring the book a suitable gift for Nick's 35th birthday. David blinked at it stupidly for a few seconds, and then slid the book back into his coat, not wanting it to get wet should the rain start again.

***

David finished Malone Dies as quickly as he had finished Molloy, but decided to wait before visiting the library again in order to make sure that Nick would actually be there. He wanted to thank Nick in person for lending him one of his own books, and was curious to know why Nick had done so.

It was not until the following Thursday that David managed to escape the office during his lunch hour and walk the short distance to the library. He felt a little nervous at the prospect of seeing the librarian again, and worried that Nick would need more time away from work to recover from his injury.

As David pushed the heavy entrance door open and stepped inside, his gaze fell to the carpet and landed on a speck of colour. Lying on the floor was a stubby yellow pencil about two inches long. Recognising it immediately, David smiled as he picked it up, twisting it in his fingers; it must have fallen from behind Nick's ear without him realising. He put it in his pocket.

With unintentional swiftness, David swept the door to the main library open and looked eagerly toward the circulation desk. Edward was standing behind it talking to a female customer as he helped her with her books.

Walking across the floor, David looked down each of the rows in turn until he spotted Nick at the far end of the fourth, holding an armful of books as he placed them back on the shelves. With a wide smile, David started toward him, greeting him once he was close enough. “Hello.”

Nick turned his head. “Oh, hello,” he replied happily, stopping his work as David stepped nearer.

“I, uh,” David began, “wanted to thank you for lending me your book.”

“You're welcome,” Nick said. “We don't carry that one here. Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, very much.”

“There's a third in the series if you are interested?” Nick stretched up to place a book on the top shelf, his stack of books wobbling precariously as he did so, making David think they would topple to the floor, but Nick twisted his arm a little to balance them against his chest as he worked. When he was finished, he cradled the pile with both arms and looked back at David.

“If you have it,” David answered, retrieving the copy of Malone Dies from his pocket and holding it out toward Nick.

“You can leave it on the trolley.” Nick indicated behind him with his head and David took another step forward so he could reach, placing the book on the topmost empty shelf, where it would not get mixed up with the books that belonged to the library. As he let his arm fall back to his side, David glanced at Nick's smiling face and the way the sunlight filtering in through the window illuminated his hair, and the empty space behind Nick's ear where he usually kept his pencil.

“Oh,” David exclaimed, reaching into his pocket again and finding the colourful piece of wood. “I think you dropped this.” He held the pencil in his outstretched hand, watching as Nick looked down and then back up, grinning.

“I wondered where that had got to.”

“I found it by the door,” David explained. He leaned a little closer to Nick, reaching up with his hand and beginning to tuck the pencil carefully behind Nick's ear where it belonged, sliding it into place with his fingers and fiddling with it until he was sure it would not fall to the floor.

“Thank you,” Nick breathed, very softly, and David froze. What was he doing?

His hand still hovering next to Nick's ear, David watched with fascination as Nick's tongue slid quickly across his bottom lip, followed by the sharp tip of a tooth as Nick's eyes met with his own. He put his hand on Nick's shoulder, and heard Nick give a tiny gasp as his arms tightened around the books he was holding. Leaning imperceptibly closer, their noses were almost touching when Caroline's voice floated across the library.

“Nick?”

With a start, David backed away, letting go his hold on the librarian as he did so. Nick looked down at his books, colour blossoming outwards across his cheeks. “I'll bring the book in next week,” he said in a hurried voice, noticeably embarrassed, looking everywhere but at David.

“Okay,” David mumbled, running a hand across the back of his neck and feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his palm. He turned around and saw Caroline approaching from the far end of the aisle.

“Ah, there you are,” she said. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” Nick answered. “Just let me put these on the shelves.”

David walked away, nodding at Caroline as he passed her. He grabbed two books from the table that held the new titles and made his way to the counter, handing them to Edward, along with his library card; looking around distractedly as he waited for Edward to run them through the computer.

Feeling flustered, David thanked Edward when he handed the books back, along with a copy of a magazine that was folded in half, and left the library, deep in thought. He had been about to kiss Nick, right there in the middle of the library; would have kissed him if Caroline had not interrupted them - and David felt sure that if he had done, Nick would have kissed him back.

The folded magazine caught in a gust of wind and flew from the top of his books, and David bent down to retrieve it, standing on it with his foot to prevent it flying off down the street. Picking it up, David was about to fold it and put it between his books when he noticed a familiar face on the cover. He squinted, eyes travelling the small picture of what was undoubtedly Nick.

Interview: Page 12 , said the line below. Curious, David stopped and flicked through the pages until he reached the article in question. In bold letters above a slightly bigger photograph was a title that said: Nick Clegg - The Libertine Librarian.

Face set in a heavy frown, David began to read.

***

“He'll be with you in a few minutes, Mr Cameron. Please take a seat.”

“Thank you,” David said, easing himself into one of the cushioned chairs and waiting patiently. It had taken him a four days to arrange this appointment. After being transferred from one department to another for several days, David had finally played the credentials card and been put through directly to John Bercow's office, where the Head of Library Services' secretary had fallen over herself to arrange an appointment before the end of the week.

David settled his thoughts and reminded himself that he was here in an official capacity, not because he had been given a three year old magazine that carried a defamatory article about Nick. Although that was precisely why he had arranged this appointment, he told himself that he would have done the same if the article in question had been about any of the other members of staff at his local library.

“Mr Cameron?” said a short, grey-haired man as he opened the door to the office. David stood up.

“Mr Bercow, I presume?”

“Indeed. Won't you come in?”

Striding purposefully into the office behind the other man, David watched as the door was closed.

“Please, have a seat,” John said, gesturing to a chair as he moved back to the other side of his desk and sat down. “I understand you have a complaint?”

“I do,” David replied, reaching into his briefcase and pulling out the copy of CILIP Update that Edward had given him. He placed it on the desk between himself and John. “It is about this.”

John picked up the magazine and studied it carefully for a few moments before slouching back in his chair with a sigh. “If you're here about Mr Clegg, I can assure you-"

“I am here,” David interrupted, “because I was given that magazine at my local library, last week.”

“I see.”

“Mr Clegg also works there,” David continued, “and the actions of the person who gave this to me were highly unprofessional. This magazine is over three years old.”

John let the magazine fall back to the desk. “I agree,” he said, leaning one elbow on the surface in front of him. “The truth is, Mr Cameron-”

“Please, call me David.”

“-David,” John went on without missing a beat. “Ever since Piers Morgan ran that story there has been nothing but trouble. I am sorry to see you mixed up in it. Do you have the name of the employee who gave it to you?”

“Edward. Miliband, I believe,” David said. John nodded.

“I understand that there has been some bad feeling between Mr Miliband and Mr Clegg for some time, although you are quite right, it was unprofessional of him to involve a customer in a private dispute. I will take care of it.”

“I trust you will deal with the matter with the utmost discretion,” David stated. He meant of course that his name should not be mentioned, and as John Bercow regarded him from the other side of the desk, David could tell that the man understood.

“Of course.” John sat back in his chair again. “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

“No, thank you.” David reached out and shook John's hand, rising to his feet. “You have a good day, Mr Bercow.”

“You as well, Mr Cameron.” David picked up his briefcase and started toward the door. “Oh, there is one thing you could do for me,” John added.

“Yes?”

“Put in a good word for library funding in your department,” John said, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“I'll do my best,” David answered, nodding with amusement. He left the office and closed the door.

***

“Did you hear?” Caroline whispered, dragging Nick behind one of the tall shelves, out of sight of the circulation desk.

“Hear what?” Nick asked, shaking Caroline off and looking at her, finding her behaviour rather irksome.

“Ed's been transferred,” Caroline giggled. “Someone complained, someone important, so I heard, and Bercow put through the transfer order the same day.”

“Who on earth would-”

“I don't know,” Caroline said excitedly. “But Laws told me that he heard from Danny, you know Danny? He works in Marylebone.”

“Caroline,” Nick frowned.

“Sorry, anyway, he said that it was someone from the Department for Culture, Media and Sport.”

“Wow,” Nick breathed, then asked, “Where are they sending him?”

“Out to Queen's Park," Caroline replied with a look of delight. Queen's Park was the most distant of the libraries in Westminster, a good five miles away from the Charing Cross branch that Nick worked in. Whoever had pulled the strings on that move clearly had a great deal of influence. Nick felt a flush of happiness, grateful for the stroke of luck.

“Who's replacing him? Laws?” Nick asked.

“No, Laws got a permanent position in Mayfair, in the funding department,” Caroline answered. “We're getting someone from Barnet. Teather, I think her name is.”

“Bit of a strange move from Barnet. She must have been waiting for a position in Westminster for a while,” Nick commented absently. He peered around the end of the shelves to make sure that Ed was still behind the circulation desk. “So tell me, what else did Laws say about whoever it was that complained?”

“Just that Danny was covering the complaints desk while someone was on holiday and took a call from an irate man who demanded an appointment with Bercow.”

“Lots of people make that demand,” Nick observed as he moved back behind the shelves. “How can you be sure it was the same person?”

“Because whoever it was actually got an appointment. Danny said that he was messed about a bit, but once he said he worked in government they put him right through to Bercow's office.” Caroline stuck her head out beyond the shelves. “Shit, Ed is coming,” she exclaimed. “I'll talk to you later.”

Nick grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. “Did Danny get a name?”

“Carmen or something,” Caroline said, breaking free and beginning to walk toward the reference library.

“Cameron?” Nick asked, in a quick, low voice.

“Yeah, maybe.” She walked off without another word, passing Ed as he made his way down the aisle with the returns trolley.

Nick ducked around to the other side of the shelves, walking toward the desk at the front of the library. On the way there he grabbed the library copy of Molloy from the shelf where it rested and clutched it in his hand.

When he reached the desk, Nick scanned the barcode and looked at the list of recent borrowers. According to the computer the last person to borrow it was: Cameron, David. Nick was about to hit the cancel key and return the book to its place when a though occurred to him; he clicked on David's name and brought up his details. Currently, David had two books on loan, the first was Generosity by Richard Powers and the second was The Silent Girl by Tess Gerritsen. David had borrowed both the day he had returned Nick's copy of Malone Dies; last Thursday, the day Nick was sure David had been about to kiss him after putting the pencil back behind his ear.

That meant David would have been served by Ed, since Nick was busy talking to Caroline. Had Ed said something? Nick could not think of anything Ed might say that would cause David to be so offended that he would take his complaint directly to the Head of Library Services. Evidently something had happened, but Nick could not fathom what it could be.

Closing the window that contained David's details, Nick picked up the copy of Molloy and returned it to the shelves, then he walked the short distance to the reference library to talk to Caroline.

***

“Boy, you've got it bad,” Sarah laughed, her brown eyes twinkling with amusement as Nick pried a twisted strip of sticky tape from his fingers; his third attempt at mending one of the paperbacks had gone as well as the first two.

“What are you talking about?” Nick frowned, finally succeeding in removing the tape, he crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the waste bin beneath the desk.

“What Sarah means, Nick dear,” Caroline chimed as she rounded the corner, “is that every time the door opens and it isn't a certain Beckett fan, you look like a puppy that's been kicked.”

“I do not!” Nick protested, tearing another strip of tape from the roll and fixing it crookedly to the book in front of him.

“Yes, you do,” Caroline chuckled. “Doesn't he, Sarah?”

“Yup,” the shorter woman agreed. “I'm sure the poor door is wondering what it has done to offend him, what with all the glaring.”

The two women giggled with each other, and Nick pretended he was not listening to them as they continued chatting.

“I have to say, I am dying to see who has you this worked up,” Sarah confessed.

In the two weeks since she had taken over from Ed, David had not yet visited the library, and Nick had become more and more distracted as the days passed. It did not help that Caroline and Sarah had decided between then that he deserved to be teased mercilessly whenever he dropped a book or catalogued something in the wrong place. But Nick had to admit that, even if the two women had fast become partners in crime, intent on playfully mocking him at every turn, the atmosphere in the library was a lot more comfortable and friendly since Ed's departure. And apparently, so Caroline had heard through one of her seemingly endless acquaintances, Ed was happier for his transfer, having found himself working with two old friends; Andy Burnham and Yvette Cooper. Nick was happy for him; whatever their differences, he did not bear Ed any ill will, and was pleased that the whole thing could finally be laid to rest.

“It's almost seven,” Caroline commented idly, leaning back against the desk, facing the entrance. “Fancy going for a drink after closing?”

“Sure,” Sarah said, piling the last of the day's returns onto the trolley. “I'll get these put away, it'll save us the job in the morning.”

“Thanks, Sarah,” Nick smiled. He looked at the clock, ten to seven. The last ten minutes of the day were always the quietest, and on the rare occasions any customers came in, it was only to quickly return their books on the way home. Nick slipped the repaired paperback back into its sleeve and glued a new loan sheet on top of the old one, then he began tidying away the tape and other items he had used, placing them neatly into the drawers below the counter.

When Nick heard the sound of the entrance door being opened, he resisted the urge to look up and see if it was David, not wanting Caroline to tease him again. He heard Caroline turn around, and then she said, quietly, “Don't look now, Nick, but I think your day is about to get a whole lot better.”

Caroline walked away before Nick could answer, and Nick found himself looking at David's hesitantly smiling face as the other man placed two books onto the desk. “Returns,” David stated softly, eyes wandering the room before settling on Nick once more.

“We're closing,” Nick said as he picked up the books, “but you can look for something else quickly, if - that is if you would like to.”

“I don't want to put you to any trouble.”

“It's no trouble.” Nick marked David's books as returned and walked to the other side of the desk. “I'll just put these back while you choose.”

As Nick was about to walk away, he felt a hand on his forearm, and he stopped, turning back to face David.

“Do you have the book by Beckett?” David asked. Nick looked down at David's hand, the firm but gentle grip on his arm and the contrast of David's slight tan against his own pale skin.

“Yes,” Nick answered, putting David's books back on the circulation desk with one hand, suddenly aware that he was stepping closer to where David was standing, gravitating bodily toward him until they were sharing breath, and he could hear that David's breathing was shallow and rapid. He should say something; Caroline or Sarah could come back any second and find him pressed against David's body, with David's one hand on his arm and the other at the back of his neck, and...

Nick closed his eyes, feeling expensively tailored cloth under his fingers and a warm mouth against his own; a faint brush of lips, catching lightly and vanishing until Nick leaned forward, searching for them again, finding and covering them with his own.

The sound of his pencil clacking hollowly to the floor was followed by two identical sets of giggles.

“I s-should be going,” David stammered, stepping away and nodding at the two staring women as he passed them. Nick watched with a pained look on his face, suddenly unable to speak.

“What are you doing?” Caroline said loudly after the door to the library had closed. She stepped forward and grabbed hold of Nick, shoving him in the same direction as David had just gone. “Go after him!”

“What?” Nick exclaimed.

“Bloody hell,” Caroline sighed. “You've been waiting months for him to kiss you. Now get out that door and catch up to him before some daft feeling of embarrassment ruins everything.”

“Yes, go,” Sarah agreed. “We'll lock up and meet you in the pub with your things.”

“Fine, I'm going,” Nick said, reaching for the handle and pulling the door open. He stepped into the corridor and rushed to the front entrance.

Outside the building, Nick looked along the street and spotted David about twenty yards along the pavement, heading in the direction of Trafalgar Square. Not able to run very well, Nick started after him as quickly as he could manage, calling, “David!”

David did not seem to hear him, so Nick shouted again, louder, putting his hand on his hip as he tried to move a little faster. Ahead of him, David stopped and turned around, searching for the source of his name. Nick kept going, ignoring the tug of pain beneath his hand as much as he could. He called David's name a third time, and David started back in his direction, feet stepping swiftly over the paving slabs until they were in front of each other, both panting a little.

“Is everything all right?” David asked, eyeing Nick with concern.

“Yes, but you left so quickly I didn't-” Nick broke off with a small groan as a sharp stab of pain flared at his hip.

“You're not OK,” David said. “You've hurt yourself.”

“Be fine in a minute,” Nick replied. David frowned at him and looked around, then led him across the road to a bus stop and made him sit on the long, red bench that ran the length of it.

“Better?” David questioned as he sat down beside Nick.

“Yes, thank you.” Nick put his hand on David's knee, twisting his neck so he could look at the other man. He opened his mouth to say something about the kiss they had shared, but what came out instead was, “You forgot the book.”

“You chased me down the street because I forgot a book,” David said disbelievingly.

“No, not really,” Nick admitted, he smiled at David and added, “The giggle brigade shoved me out the door.”

“Sounds about right,” David laughed, his hand moving to cover Nick's.

“I think they felt bad for interrupting.”

“Hardly their fault, considering,” David said with a smile, then his face grew serious. “I should tell you something.”

“If it's about your taste in books, I already know,” Nick joked nervously. David did not laugh, and Nick fell silent, waiting for him to speak.

“I complained about Edward,” David said finally, eyebrows creasing with worry.

“Yes, I know.”

“You know?”

“Librarians are terrible gossips. Caroline knows the man you spoke to on the phone,” Nick explained.

“Oh,” David whispered, the look of worry on his face becoming one of surprise.

“I'm sure you had your reasons.” Nick gave David's knee a short squeeze.

“He gave me the magazine with your interview,” David blurted, looking down to the pavement. “The one with that Morgan fellow.”

Nick stared at David's down-turned face in shock, his mouth falling open.

They sat in silence for several minutes, David's hand still resting atop Nick's. A bus pulled up to the stop and the driver stared at them through the open door until the passengers had disembarked, then he turned the wheel and drove away.

“Did you read it?” Nick asked, biting his lip.

“Yes.”

Sighing, Nick began to remove his hand from David's leg, but David held on. “I didn't believe it,” David said quietly. Nick huffed, his chest rising once in derision. How could anyone not believe it after what he had said? All that thirty women nonsense...

“Right,” Nick said, turning his face away from David. He felt David's fingers curl around his jaw and tug his face upward until he was staring into David's deep blue eyes.

“I didn't; I don't,” David insisted, thumb brushing Nick's cheek. “I heard you tell Caroline.”

“Do you make a habit of listening to private conversations?” Nick snapped, feeling irrationally angry, more because David knew about the article than anything David was saying.

“Only as often as you have them when I am a shelf away,” David replied softly. “And when you talk about me having dubious taste in books.”

“Well, you do like Beckett. You redeemed yourself a little there.”

“Only read it so I could talk to you,” David confessed. “Though I did like it, and I'd still like to read the other one.”

“Sorry, I left it in the library,” Nick said apologetically, shifting a little closer, the length of his leg pressing against David's. He leaned forward and let his mouth find David's, gently, and felt David's hand slip from his cheek to the back of his neck and a quick press of tongue against his lips. Swiping his own tongue inside David's mouth, Nick heard David whimper, and tilted his head to one side, bringing his hand to David's cheek as he kissed deeper, lazily exploring the inside of David's mouth and feeling rapid breaths against his skin.

Remembering where they were, Nick pulled back slowly. “We should,” he smiled. “We should stop kissing in very public places.”

With a small nod, David replied, “Yes.”

“Would you like to come to the pub?” Nick asked. “You can collect the book. It's in my bag.”

“I have dinner plans tonight,” David answered, looking very disappointed at not being able to take Nick up on his offer. “I'll come to the library tomorrow at lunch time?”

“Okay, I'll make sure I bring it in.” Nick stood up. “I'll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yes,” David said, getting to his feet as well. He put his hand on Nick's shoulder and kissed him quickly before starting in the direction of Trafalgar Square again. Nick turned around and walked back toward the pub where Caroline and Sarah were waiting for him.

***

One o'clock came and went, dragged on into two o'clock, and still David did not walk through the door of the library. Nick waited with growing impatience behind the desk, dealing with customers and trying to keep his mind occupied with the usual daily tasks; skipping his own lunch in case David turned up while he was out.

It was nearing three-thirty when David eventually arrived, and Nick found himself making his way out from behind the circulation desk to greet him, meeting him half-way across the floor.

“Sorry,” David said as they stood in front of each other. “I couldn't get away.”

“It's okay,” Nick smiled, tentatively reaching out and brushing his hand along David's arm, the antsy feeling that had been building since noon dissipating rapidly as David returned the touch, fingers stroking idly over the cotton of Nick's shirt.

“I, uh-” David looked at him, lips curving up at the corners, fondness gleaming in his eyes. “Book,” he exclaimed suddenly, as if remembering only then the reason for his visit.

“Oh, I left it in my bag,” Nick said, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of the storage room. Turning, Nick walked away to fetch it, stepping quickly across the floor, past the neatly arranged rows of books. He opened the door to the section of the library that was off-limits to the public and stepped through, moving to his bag where it rested against a tall stack of old encyclopaedias.

Digging inside, Nick quickly located the third in the series of books that were widely regarded as one of Beckett's most outstanding achievements, The Unnamable. He closed his bag and turned, book in hand, to return to where he had left David standing, only to bump abruptly to a halt as he walked straight into the man himself, the book jerking out of his grasp and falling to the floor.

“Sorry,” David mumbled, stooping down to pick it up.

“This is, er,” Nick said quietly when David was level with him again. “You're not supposed to be in here.”

“Oh,” David gasped, then added, “Sorry. I thought you meant for me to follow you.”

“No, I-” Nick stopped as David stared guiltily down at the paperback in his hands. The silence of the room broken only by the sound of their breathing, Nick suddenly realised that they were alone for the first time since they had met. He tugged his book gently from David's grip and set it on one of the crowded shelves at his side, watching the curious look that David gave him as he did so. Then he kissed David.

When Nick pulled away a few moments later, breathing a little more rapidly than usual, he smiled, suddenly feeling shy. He wasn't one for kissing in public, even though it seemed to happen a lot where David was concerned, and he didn't make a habit of seducing customers, whatever that stupid article had said.

“I'd like to-” Nick began.

“Would you-” David said at the same time.

“You first,” Nick smiled.

“What time do you finish today?”

“In about twenty minutes. Why?”

“If you've no plans for the evening, I thought you might like-”

“I'd love to,” Nick said, not letting David finish his sentence. David grinned at him happily, his arm on Nick's side, and leaned forward to kiss him again.

As Nick put his arms around David's shoulders, and David stepped forward until Nick was pressed against the musty bookshelves, Nick forgot about the library full of customers, the circulation desk, the trolley of books he was meant to be stacking on the shelves, and pulled David closer.

He could live dangerously, perhaps, just this once.

End.