A/N: Here you go, Stephanie and Kojaky. Kuroneko, Memento, MadameShannon and Anise. Thanks for the reviews, guys, I appreciate them. :) -DL
Chapter 5
Jeremiah stood at his counter and scowled at the bookshelves. Down in between them, fourth shelf to the right, a certain utterly irritating lawyer was reading a book to a gaggle of excited children. Bailey had waved cheerfully to him as he went by, but hadn't said anything to him. The librarian tried to tell himself that that's the way he wanted it; but his irritation had only increased when Bailey sailed by without talking to him.
He transferred his black look to his computer. He hadn't slept at all well again last night. His body had been restless, and his mind had kept thrusting images of that kiss in the car at him. When he'd finally gotten to sleep, he'd had some dreams that had left him sweaty and out-of-it when he woke up. So now he was in a really dark mood, tired and intensely irritated at both himself and Bailey. His peaceful life was being thoroughly disrupted, and he didn't like it. At all. But there didn't seem to be anything that he could do about it, which made him even angrier.
A small stream of giggling, chattering children streamed by, and he realized that the story hour was over. Bailey emerged from the stacks right behind them, smiling and waving as the kids went out the front door of the library. Then he turned to look at Jeremiah, a smile stretching his lips.
"Afternoon, Jeremiah," he said as he strolled over to the desk. "How's everything?"
"Everything is fine. Mr. Sheffield," he replied crisply. "How can I help you?"
"Actually, I wanted to ask you if you'd make me some muffins," the lawyer said cheerfully.
He blinked. "Muffins?"
A nod. "Yeah. I want to try your baking. Look, I'll make you a deal - you bake me some muffins, and I won't bug you to go out with me again. Is it a deal?"
He considered it. "Very well," he said at last.
Bailey thrust his hands into his pockets. "Cool," he said amiably.
Jeremiah took in a deep breath. "And it will be that simple? You won't bother me anymore if I bake for you?" he asked warily.
Bailey nodded. "Hey, you made it clear to me that you don't want to go out with me again. Even I know when to give up," he added ruefully. "Though I would have loved to go out with you again, if you hate it so bad I won't push it any more. But if I'm going to give up, I want something out of the deal. Like tasty, home-made muffins."
"I see," Jeremiah remarked. He felt a strange sensation in his chest and stomach at the thought that Bailey was giving up on him, though he told himself that it was acute relief. This WAS what he wanted, after all. For the pestilential lawyer to leave him alone. To return to his solitary existence. Yes. Right. Good.
Bailey grinned. "Anyway, I have an appointment at two-thirty. See ya later, Jeremiah," he flipped a hand at the librarian and strolled out of the library, whistling to himself.
The librarian stood and watched him go, wondering silently why his feeling of acute irritation seemed to have increased rather than diminished now that Bailey had given up on him.
The next morning, Jeremiah entered the library with a covered plate in his hands. Under the clean white towel were the muffins that he'd promised to make for Bailey. There were a baker's dozen on the plate; an assorted variety of banana nut, blueberry, and apple spice. He carried this over to the counter and set it down, before he circled it and began his usual morning routine. His movements were slower and more methodical even than usual; he was very tired today. He still hadn't slept well again last night, tossing and turning all night long. Somehow, he blamed all of this on Bailey. That wretched lawyer had come along and shaken up his ordered life, and now that he'd done so he was just going to abandon his efforts and walk away. It made Jeremiah furious to even think about it.
He forced himself to go about his work and not think about a certain insouciant lawyer anymore, cataloguing books and straightening shelves with a vengeance. Being so tired helped; he didn't think too much about anything because he was in a haze of fatigue.
Around noon he started surreptitiously watching the front door. He tried to ignore the way his heart kicked up a little when a familiar figure pushed through it, and he stiffened. Bailey walked over to the counter and smiled sunnily at him. "Hi, Jeremiah!" he chirped. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"
Jeremiah's lips tightened and his brows lowered. "Is it?"
The lawyer nodded. "Yep. Sunny, blue skies, a nice little breeze. It's Spring, and love is in the air," he went on with a wink.
Jeremiah looked down his nose at Bailey. "If you say so."
"I do. So how is everything?"
"Everything is fine," Jeremiah replied in arctic tones. He reached under the counter and picked up the covered plate, setting it on top of the counter.
"Here are your muffins," he informed Bailey coldly.
"Oh, wow, already? Oo, these look yummy!" Bailey added, peeking under the towel. "Thanks, Jeremiah! Can I take the plate and bring it back to you later?"
“Of course.”
Bailey picked up the covered plate. "I'll just put these in my car," he said, and bore it away outside.
Jeremiah let out a long breath and set his hands on the counter top. He was trying to suppress the rage burning inside of him at Bailey's casual acceptance of the muffins as an alternative to bugging him anymore. Apparently he didn't mean enough to Bailey for him to continue to try to break down Jeremiah's walls anymore. He'd just given up. Just like that. He found it infuriating, and also felt a streak of hurt go through him. He’d thought...oh, who knew what he'd thought. But it didn't matter. It was all over before it had really begun.
Bailey returned with a big smile on his face and crumbs on his lips. "I just had to try one," he confessed. "Wonderful! You're an amazing baker."
"Thank you," he said coolly.
"Anyway, I'm going to go and get the Children's Corner ready for story hour. I'm thinking maybe The Little Engine that Could today, and Where the Wild Things Are. I love that one - I've always had a penchant for 'wild things'," he said, his lips quirking and his eyes gleaming with some hidden thoughts. "Anyway, I'll see you later, Jeremiah."
The librarian watched him walk away, and his hands formed into balls on top of the counter without him even being aware of it.
He found himself stewing silently the next few days, especially as Bailey didn't come into the library at all. Not seeing the lawyer didn't seem to be helping his mood any - if anything, it became deeper and blacker as the days went by and he didn't see Bailey. Then there was the endless, interminable weekend - his house suddenly seemed incredibly empty and silent to him, and Jeremiah found himself turning on the radio just to have some sound in the place. Also, he still wasn't sleeping well. He was becoming worn out from lack of sleep, and that was pushing his general bad mood into the blackest of black moods.
Monday morning he dragged himself to work, so weary that he was practically staggering. Mechanically he went through the routine of opening the library, then finally sank into his chair behind the front desk with a tired sigh. He rubbed at his forehead, feeling a lack of sleep headache throbbing sullenly there. This was going to be a long, LONG day!
And so it was. He was surprised, frankly, that he didn't make more mistakes than he actually did, since he was swaying on his feet from exhaustion. Around one o'clock, he was sitting dispiritedly in his chair when a familiar laughing voice spoke above his head: "Afternoon, Jeremiah. Say, are you okay? You look awful."
His head reared up, and he met Bailey’s concerned stare. That black, swamping rage rose up in his breast again, driving away the haze of exhaustion. His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed into near slits. He rose to his feet, his lips stiff and tight over his gritted teeth as he spoke. "Where have you been?" he growled.
Bailey blinked. "You mean last week? I was swamped with work Thursday and Friday, so I couldn't get here for story hour. Believe me, I'd much rather have been reading to the kiddies than writing up wills. Those are so boring and depressing. But I need the money, so I skipped those days."
Jeremiah said nothing, fighting against the overwhelming wave of anger rising up inside of him. "Anyway, I'm here now. I'm going to get the Corner ready. Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not sick or anything?"
"I'm fine," he spat.
"Well, all right, then. See you in a bit," he waved and wandered off, leaving Jeremiah standing alone at his desk.
He stood there, nearly trembling with rage. All of his tiredness and the churning maelstrom of emotions inside of him combined into a swamping sea of anger, mindless anger which was all directed at the lawyer currently back in the Children's Corner picking out books. Jeremiah wasn't even aware that he’d moved, until suddenly he was striding between the bookshelves toward the Children's Corner.
Bailey was going over a stack of big, colorful books. He didn't even glance up when Jeremiah approached him, so he let out a startled gasp when a hand grabbed his arm in a frighteningly strong grip and hauled him to his feet. His eyes widened at the expression on Jeremiah’s face as the librarian loomed over him. Clearly he was wondering if he was about to be murdered.
He meant to do bloody murder. He really did. But somehow, instead, he ended up hauling Bailey up against him, and savagely closing his mouth over the lawyer's. He ate at that pink mouth, he plundered it, he ravaged it.
All of his anger went into that brutal kiss, but Bailey wasn't protesting. He hung in Jeremiah’s hard grip, and his mouth opened to allow a tongue to insinuate itself inside. He pressed his body eagerly to the librarian's, mewling into the eating kiss and lifting his arms to cling to Jeremiah’s neck for dear life.
When Bailey started to kiss him back, he gentled the kiss somewhat. It was still intense and devastating, but he wasn't practically raping Bailey's mouth anymore. His hands left their punishing grip and rose to close over the back of the curly head, his fingers burying themselves in the amber locks to keep Bailey in place. From the way that the lawyer's tongue was entwining with his, he was definitely feeling enthusiastic about the whole thing.
How long he might have continued this, if he hadn't needed to breathe, was anyone's guess. When he lifted his head, Bailey stared at him with glazed eyes. His mouth was open, and he was panting heavily for breath.
"Daammmnn," he husked. "That was fantastic. Jesus, Jeremiah. Why can't you just admit that you want me as much as I want you? Would it kill you to do that, seriously?"
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Chapter 5
Jeremiah stood at his counter and scowled at the bookshelves. Down in between them, fourth shelf to the right, a certain utterly irritating lawyer was reading a book to a gaggle of excited children. Bailey had waved cheerfully to him as he went by, but hadn't said anything to him. The librarian tried to tell himself that that's the way he wanted it; but his irritation had only increased when Bailey sailed by without talking to him.
He transferred his black look to his computer. He hadn't slept at all well again last night. His body had been restless, and his mind had kept thrusting images of that kiss in the car at him. When he'd finally gotten to sleep, he'd had some dreams that had left him sweaty and out-of-it when he woke up. So now he was in a really dark mood, tired and intensely irritated at both himself and Bailey. His peaceful life was being thoroughly disrupted, and he didn't like it. At all. But there didn't seem to be anything that he could do about it, which made him even angrier.
A small stream of giggling, chattering children streamed by, and he realized that the story hour was over. Bailey emerged from the stacks right behind them, smiling and waving as the kids went out the front door of the library. Then he turned to look at Jeremiah, a smile stretching his lips.
"Afternoon, Jeremiah," he said as he strolled over to the desk. "How's everything?"
"Everything is fine. Mr. Sheffield," he replied crisply. "How can I help you?"
"Actually, I wanted to ask you if you'd make me some muffins," the lawyer said cheerfully.
He blinked. "Muffins?"
A nod. "Yeah. I want to try your baking. Look, I'll make you a deal - you bake me some muffins, and I won't bug you to go out with me again. Is it a deal?"
He considered it. "Very well," he said at last.
Bailey thrust his hands into his pockets. "Cool," he said amiably.
Jeremiah took in a deep breath. "And it will be that simple? You won't bother me anymore if I bake for you?" he asked warily.
Bailey nodded. "Hey, you made it clear to me that you don't want to go out with me again. Even I know when to give up," he added ruefully. "Though I would have loved to go out with you again, if you hate it so bad I won't push it any more. But if I'm going to give up, I want something out of the deal. Like tasty, home-made muffins."
"I see," Jeremiah remarked. He felt a strange sensation in his chest and stomach at the thought that Bailey was giving up on him, though he told himself that it was acute relief. This WAS what he wanted, after all. For the pestilential lawyer to leave him alone. To return to his solitary existence. Yes. Right. Good.
Bailey grinned. "Anyway, I have an appointment at two-thirty. See ya later, Jeremiah," he flipped a hand at the librarian and strolled out of the library, whistling to himself.
The librarian stood and watched him go, wondering silently why his feeling of acute irritation seemed to have increased rather than diminished now that Bailey had given up on him.
The next morning, Jeremiah entered the library with a covered plate in his hands. Under the clean white towel were the muffins that he'd promised to make for Bailey. There were a baker's dozen on the plate; an assorted variety of banana nut, blueberry, and apple spice. He carried this over to the counter and set it down, before he circled it and began his usual morning routine. His movements were slower and more methodical even than usual; he was very tired today. He still hadn't slept well again last night, tossing and turning all night long. Somehow, he blamed all of this on Bailey. That wretched lawyer had come along and shaken up his ordered life, and now that he'd done so he was just going to abandon his efforts and walk away. It made Jeremiah furious to even think about it.
He forced himself to go about his work and not think about a certain insouciant lawyer anymore, cataloguing books and straightening shelves with a vengeance. Being so tired helped; he didn't think too much about anything because he was in a haze of fatigue.
Around noon he started surreptitiously watching the front door. He tried to ignore the way his heart kicked up a little when a familiar figure pushed through it, and he stiffened. Bailey walked over to the counter and smiled sunnily at him. "Hi, Jeremiah!" he chirped. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"
Jeremiah's lips tightened and his brows lowered. "Is it?"
The lawyer nodded. "Yep. Sunny, blue skies, a nice little breeze. It's Spring, and love is in the air," he went on with a wink.
Jeremiah looked down his nose at Bailey. "If you say so."
"I do. So how is everything?"
"Everything is fine," Jeremiah replied in arctic tones. He reached under the counter and picked up the covered plate, setting it on top of the counter.
"Here are your muffins," he informed Bailey coldly.
"Oh, wow, already? Oo, these look yummy!" Bailey added, peeking under the towel. "Thanks, Jeremiah! Can I take the plate and bring it back to you later?"
“Of course.”
Bailey picked up the covered plate. "I'll just put these in my car," he said, and bore it away outside.
Jeremiah let out a long breath and set his hands on the counter top. He was trying to suppress the rage burning inside of him at Bailey's casual acceptance of the muffins as an alternative to bugging him anymore. Apparently he didn't mean enough to Bailey for him to continue to try to break down Jeremiah's walls anymore. He'd just given up. Just like that. He found it infuriating, and also felt a streak of hurt go through him. He’d thought...oh, who knew what he'd thought. But it didn't matter. It was all over before it had really begun.
Bailey returned with a big smile on his face and crumbs on his lips. "I just had to try one," he confessed. "Wonderful! You're an amazing baker."
"Thank you," he said coolly.
"Anyway, I'm going to go and get the Children's Corner ready for story hour. I'm thinking maybe The Little Engine that Could today, and Where the Wild Things Are. I love that one - I've always had a penchant for 'wild things'," he said, his lips quirking and his eyes gleaming with some hidden thoughts. "Anyway, I'll see you later, Jeremiah."
The librarian watched him walk away, and his hands formed into balls on top of the counter without him even being aware of it.
He found himself stewing silently the next few days, especially as Bailey didn't come into the library at all. Not seeing the lawyer didn't seem to be helping his mood any - if anything, it became deeper and blacker as the days went by and he didn't see Bailey. Then there was the endless, interminable weekend - his house suddenly seemed incredibly empty and silent to him, and Jeremiah found himself turning on the radio just to have some sound in the place. Also, he still wasn't sleeping well. He was becoming worn out from lack of sleep, and that was pushing his general bad mood into the blackest of black moods.
Monday morning he dragged himself to work, so weary that he was practically staggering. Mechanically he went through the routine of opening the library, then finally sank into his chair behind the front desk with a tired sigh. He rubbed at his forehead, feeling a lack of sleep headache throbbing sullenly there. This was going to be a long, LONG day!
And so it was. He was surprised, frankly, that he didn't make more mistakes than he actually did, since he was swaying on his feet from exhaustion. Around one o'clock, he was sitting dispiritedly in his chair when a familiar laughing voice spoke above his head: "Afternoon, Jeremiah. Say, are you okay? You look awful."
His head reared up, and he met Bailey’s concerned stare. That black, swamping rage rose up in his breast again, driving away the haze of exhaustion. His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed into near slits. He rose to his feet, his lips stiff and tight over his gritted teeth as he spoke. "Where have you been?" he growled.
Bailey blinked. "You mean last week? I was swamped with work Thursday and Friday, so I couldn't get here for story hour. Believe me, I'd much rather have been reading to the kiddies than writing up wills. Those are so boring and depressing. But I need the money, so I skipped those days."
Jeremiah said nothing, fighting against the overwhelming wave of anger rising up inside of him. "Anyway, I'm here now. I'm going to get the Corner ready. Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not sick or anything?"
"I'm fine," he spat.
"Well, all right, then. See you in a bit," he waved and wandered off, leaving Jeremiah standing alone at his desk.
He stood there, nearly trembling with rage. All of his tiredness and the churning maelstrom of emotions inside of him combined into a swamping sea of anger, mindless anger which was all directed at the lawyer currently back in the Children's Corner picking out books. Jeremiah wasn't even aware that he’d moved, until suddenly he was striding between the bookshelves toward the Children's Corner.
Bailey was going over a stack of big, colorful books. He didn't even glance up when Jeremiah approached him, so he let out a startled gasp when a hand grabbed his arm in a frighteningly strong grip and hauled him to his feet. His eyes widened at the expression on Jeremiah’s face as the librarian loomed over him. Clearly he was wondering if he was about to be murdered.
He meant to do bloody murder. He really did. But somehow, instead, he ended up hauling Bailey up against him, and savagely closing his mouth over the lawyer's. He ate at that pink mouth, he plundered it, he ravaged it.
All of his anger went into that brutal kiss, but Bailey wasn't protesting. He hung in Jeremiah’s hard grip, and his mouth opened to allow a tongue to insinuate itself inside. He pressed his body eagerly to the librarian's, mewling into the eating kiss and lifting his arms to cling to Jeremiah’s neck for dear life.
When Bailey started to kiss him back, he gentled the kiss somewhat. It was still intense and devastating, but he wasn't practically raping Bailey's mouth anymore. His hands left their punishing grip and rose to close over the back of the curly head, his fingers burying themselves in the amber locks to keep Bailey in place. From the way that the lawyer's tongue was entwining with his, he was definitely feeling enthusiastic about the whole thing.
How long he might have continued this, if he hadn't needed to breathe, was anyone's guess. When he lifted his head, Bailey stared at him with glazed eyes. His mouth was open, and he was panting heavily for breath.
"Daammmnn," he husked. "That was fantastic. Jesus, Jeremiah. Why can't you just admit that you want me as much as I want you? Would it kill you to do that, seriously?"
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