Chapter Text
Fuck the Dewey Decimal system.
Yes, Willie’s aware that holding a grudge against a series of numbers and decimal points is weird. But the Dewey Decimal system is confusing and old and right now, as he stands in front of a full cart of books in need of filing, the thing that’s making his life a hundred times harder.
So he stands by his statement. Fuck the system.
It’s his hatred for the system and his annoyance at the tons of books in front of him that distracts him and sends him and his cart rolling right into a person. The force knocks Willie and the other guy off their feet. One of them snags the cart and books end up all over the place.
They’re both groaning as Willie manages to sit up and look around. He’s made a mess, books everywhere. A big commotion too. Good thing there’s literally no one else here.
One poor book lying half underneath the guy he ran over catches Willie’s eye-
“Aww man, you dinged Shakespeare.”
“I dinged Shakespeare?!” Willie looks up from the tattered book in his hand and is met with green eyes and blonde locks and whoa ...
“Dude you ran me over! You’re lucky I didn’t…”
Pretty boy trails off, staring at Willie, then at the cart.
“Wait, you- you ran me over...You work here?”
“I do,” Willie kinda does, “as of today.”
He winces at the mess around them. “That is, if you promise not to tell anyone about tattered Shakespeare and get me kicked out? If my dad finds out I got let go my first week, Desdemona’s not going to be the only one worried about strangulation.”
Pretty boy freezes, caught off card before his mouth curves into a small smile. So pretty . He holds up the tattered Shakespeare, “You’ve read Othello? ”
+++
The beautiful guy with the killer cheekbones who ran him over has a name: Willie.
And once Alex recovers somewhat from the shock of being run over (and from the shock of being confronted by so much beauty in one person), he learns that Willie is a visual arts major and the new student assistant.
Willie picks up all the books he dropped, apologizing profusely, and spends the rest of his shift helping Alex pull volumes for a professor’s massive order on medieval history.
“Can I ask you something?” Willie says after they’ve finished, Alex handing him a cup of tea from the station behind the circulation desk (“You want a cup? You work in a library now, drinking tea is part of the aesthetic.” “Yes sir, Mr. Head Student Assistant, sir.”)
“Why is there never anyone here? Don’t college kids read anymore?”
Alex grins.
”This is mainly a research library, you only ever see grad students picking up orders for professors or sometimes the occasional lecturer looking for a text. We have a small fiction section, but not like the undergraduate library.”
He turns to fix himself a cup of early grey. “We’re pretty tiny here, but that’s why I like it. This place is kind of a hidden gem.”
“One more question,” Willie says, leaning against the desk, tea cup cradled in his hands. He’s a handsome juxtaposition of hard and soft, strong cheekbones and brows, but soft eyes and a warm smile that he directs at an unsuspecting Alex.
“Is Othello your favorite Shakespeare? Or do you have really bad taste?”
Alex smiles back, Willie’s softness and playful tone sending his stomach into silly loops. “Hate to disappoint but it’s Twelfth Night .”
He watches amused, way too happy probably, as Willie walks over to the tiny fiction section, pulling a book off the shelf and dropping it into the checkout tray.