Misty groans a little under the weight of the textbooks. When they clunk down on the aged wood of the desk, she isn’t surprised. Unlike her, the resident librarian gives a tiny gasp and places a hand over her apparently startled heart.
“Always making an entrance,” Cordelia comments, though does flash a smile Misty's way.
“Wouldn’t want you to miss me.” She responds with a grin, then pushes a smaller book to the side of the hefty pile. “An’ I wanna take that one out for the week.”
Cordelia peers upwards, her glasses dipping slightly.
That merely summons a smirk from the Cajun. “Please.” With playfulness swimming in her body, she adds in a drawl, “darlin’.”
All but jumping out of her seat, Cordelia’s eyes narrow. “I told you not to call me that.”
“Oh, sorry.” She begins, rather unapologetically. In all honesty, she wouldn’t with any other circumstance, but there’s something about the way that the woman reacts that encourages her so. Eyes rolling, mouth tight, and this slight blush just under her neck.
Cordelia continues in the lecture, readjusting her glasses. “It isn’t appropriate,” she says, “just because you are a mature student doesn’t meant that you can say things like that to the staff.”
“No special privileges,” she nods, “won’t happen again.” The books are gently inched forward, squeaking under their own weight. “Brought these back for you.”
“Well, this is a rare sight.” Cordelia reaches for them with a smirk at her own jibe.
“Hey, I always bring the books back.”
Brown eyes settle on her, sceptical and potent and they make Misty's stomach stir more than she cares to admit. The dopey smile that she wears upon observing Cordelia scan each book back into the system slips from her very lips, the moment she speaks.
“You have a late fee.”
Misty blinks and shakes her head. “Nuh uh!”
The computer screen reflects in Cordelia’s lenses as she checks again, maybe just to humor her.
“Oh look, you still have a late fee – it’s, uh, three dollars and sixty cents.”
She's left dumbfounded, literally scratching at her head for a moment. “But it says the sixth on them. Today is the sixth!”
And there’s a moment here where Cordelia doesn’t do very much. She doesn’t rise to the challenge, nor does she look to the system to find the mistake. All she does is suck in a long, redesigned, (amused) breath.
Then, she speaks ever so dryly. “Misty, today is the ninth.”
“It’s the what now?”
She shakes her head, definitely grinning at her. “The ninth day of the month. Meaning, three days later than what you think it is.”
Rather than succumb to annoyance or embarrassment, Misty delves into a sheepish shrug and laughs. “Guess I should probably throw out that milk that says the second in my fridge then, huh?”
Cordelia’s eyes bulge wider.
Too late, for she is already squatting as she rifles through her messy bag right at the bottom. Here, there are scrunched up papers, old erasers, and empty wrappers. There is also a goldmine of spare change. Some of which is given to Cordelia.
“Thank you,” She says, “you are singlehandedly keeping this library going with your tardiness.” For a second, Misty sees the flash of a genuine smile, and that’s enough to have her heart fluttering.
Cordelia reaches for her newest choice, eyeing over the title. Just like she always does. “Ah, you’re onto the GMO stuff?”
She nods, leaning casually on the counter. “Feels weird, huh? Messing with plants’ genes.” Misty gives a moment to pause and spy Cordelia's reaction. “Almost like playin’ god.”
“Well, these things are bound to happen with technology.” She points out, always an opinion, always a thought; Misty wonders just how many of the books she’s perused through in this library. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Unless someone makes an island of carnivorous genetically modified plants and they somehow manage to escape.”
Her grin is from ear to ear, accompanied by giggles. And, for a just a second, she feels awfully flustered in front of this women. “Weirder things have happened. . .”
Cordelia hums, then opens the first page of the chosen book. “Is the sixteenth okay?” She asks, “or do I need to give you longer?”
They both know the answer to that. Misty nods either way and gathers the book. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
“That’s next Thursday, okay?” She spells out, teasing,
Offering her most coy smirk yet, Misty crosses that line once more. “It’s a date.”
“Oh.” Cordelia almost drops the highlighter she’s grabbed in annoyance and sends a picking glare toward Misty. “For god’s sake.” She grumbles, not even bidding Misty a goodbye as she makes to leave.
Instead, she gets advice. “And throw that old food out, you’ll get sick.”
Yes, darlin’, Misty replies in her head, and she really wishes she could see the look on Cordelia’s face if she spoke it again.
Her head hurts, words all just a blob at this point. Nothing fixes it, makes it dwindle, and so this is where she decides to give up on studying.
She subtly takes a large swig of her coffee where Cordelia can’t see (normally she wouldn’t drink it ‘cause it makes her jittery but dreaded midterms are on the way) and she gathers her things. The open books at her desk are slammed shut, made into a pile. Misty shoves her pencil in her mouth and grabs said pile awkwardly with her free hand.
In somewhat of a rush to get home and do something noticeably less stressful, she makes to throw the books on the nearest shelf.
Until a throat clears behind her, and she spins on the spot to find Cordelia. With arms folded over her flowery dress, she speaks her mind with no hesitation. “You know, there is nothing more I love than restocking the books that all you guys put back in the wrong places.”
“Uh,” Misty begins speaking around the pencil, then makes to remove it in an uncomfortable set of angles. “Ain’t that like, your job?”
Oh, wrong answer. Cordelia pulls a face, this miffed tug of soft features, and she reaches forward to remove the books from Misty.
“Hey, I can put them back, if you. . .” She trails off; no way in hell is she going to remember which section they are all from.
“It’s my job, right?” Cordelia comments, a flurry that is heated and puffy hair, and screams stress. Come to think of it, the woman has been rushing around since Misty got to the library (not that she’s been watching her or anything).
If she feels guilty, there isn’t much chance to act on it. Thin heels begin a retreat, heard against the carpeted floor in a hurried beat, only stopping as she halts to pick up more abandoned books.
Misty frowns, languidly throwing her backpack over her shoulder. “Dammit.”
She doesn’t normally go to the library on Tuesdays. It’s one of her days off, and usually she has a shift at the music store. That still stands, but today she makes a quick detour.
As she walks into the library with purpose, she smiles at the sun streaming through the windows, at the sight of other students diligently working away.
And her smile widens when she hears Cordelia before eyes are lucky enough to spot her. “Shhh guys, keep it down please.”
The rowdy group might not look impressed, but Misty is the sight of besotted. Cordelia continues her work of restocking the printers, hoisting a fresh box of paper to replenish. She’s so focused in her work that she doesn’t spy Misty until the blonde stands far too close, too keen. And unashamedly so. “Hey.”
Cordelia frowns, titling her head in confusion. “Misty?” she halts in her actions, standing erect and unsure. “What are you doing here?” Then, perhaps feeling too much concern etching into her voice, she slips back to teasing, “did you forget what day it is again?”
“Nah,” Misty chuckles in turn, rolling on the balls of her feet. “I just, I – I was passin’ and you seemed a little annoyed yesterday, an’ I saw this. . .thought of you – so maybe, consider this a peace offerin’.”
The brown bag is held out, the brownie inside. It smells oh so delicious, and Misty knows it certainly is as she'd eaten her own on the way here.
Cordelia now flitters eyes between Misty and the bag with a certain level of paranoia.
“I ain’t poisoned it,” she rolls her eyes, “you are the only librarian who still lets me take out more than two books at once.”
Cordelia shakes her head, a fond smile there. “You only have yourself to blame for that.”
“Yeah,” Misty grins, “don’t think that’ll ever change. I don’t do so good with timings.”
The woman blinks at her, a set of musings atop her thin brow. She tries to hide it, but there’s some cloud of sobering over her expression. And gosh, it draws Misty right in like her body has been cast along the wave that is Cordelia.
Instead, Cordelia gingerly takes the bag and then scoffs upon peering inside. “You know you’re not allowed to bring food in this part of the library.”
She shrugs shamelessly. “I ain’t so good with the rules either.” Then, just as annoyance fizzles to something far more amicable, she adds. “Like I said, you seemed stressed. An’ Myrtle said you liked those so I – I – ”
You shouldn’t have done that, she waits for, and is instead gifted noticeably better, “you didn’t have to. . .that’s really kind of you.” She refuses to meet Misty’s eyes for a moment, a hand curling hair behind her ear in a slow manner. “Yesterday was a little crazy – we had a meeting about the stock and our manager was saying a about less funds for the library. . .and – I should not be telling you stuff like that.”
The mid sentence realization has Misty wanting to both smile and frown, so she goes for some unsure mix between both. “Yeah, well I hope ya feel better.” She catches sight of the time. “Crap, I need to go.”
“But you just got here. . .”
“I got work today,” she explains, “I just came by to – ” The brownie is gestured to, “Well, enjoy. I’ll see ya Friday.”
And she’s smiling as she leaves, a bounce in her step that is certainly too perky for this establishment.
“But you have books due tomorrow!”
At the sound of Cordelia’s voice, she halts and her smile exceeds the normal bounds of happiness. With a burst of it gushing through her veins, she turns and aims a look over her shoulder. “Fine, see you then, darlin’.”
What she mutters under her breath, Misty doesn’t hear. But she doesn’t care. Not one bit. ‘Cause Cordelia’s serene smile is all too endearing that day, and she’d like to think that she has something to do with it.
It’s quiet that evening, awfully so.
This is the way she likes it; on the late nights, there are the few regulars that seem to reside in this building. On a Monday night, it is usually her, working until her body physically refuses to do anymore.
But there’s good internet here, and textbooks that are totally free (if she remembers to bring them back on time). Oh, and there is one other benefit to her Monday night studies.
“So, how are you finding Delphine’s class?” Cordelia hovers nearby, stacking away some of the books while conveniently staying close to her table.
She tugs out her only earphone and spins her body in the woman’s direction. “It sure is somethin’. Think my brain is ready to explode any day now.”
“Yeah,” She laughs, “that’s the general consensus I get.”
Misty idly peers over her work, eyeing the messy scrawl of handwriting. Just as it appears their brief conversation is dying, she fans the flames once more. “You seem to know a lot about the classes.”
“You are not the only student to talk to me, Misty Day.”
The way she suddenly burns with jealous is totally embarrassing, and she inwardly berates herself for it. “I mean, you’re interested in the classes?”
“I’m interested in everything,” Cordelia smiles. “The handy thing about working as a librarian is that they let you read the books as well.” Then, with the hues of pink on her smooth skin, “plus I really like the book smell.”
“You do, huh?”
She nods, slowing her activities to give Misty her full attention. If Misty squints, she can see feet take the slightest movement forward, “yeah, I tell you, there is nothing better than opening a new book for the first time and the smell just hits you.”
Her description has Misty chuckling. “I get that. It’s fresh flowers for me – petals, ya know?
“Is that the only reason you’re doing plant sciences?” She cocks up a brow.
“Are you only a librarian so you can smell books?” Misty counters with her own look, more teasing than Cordelia had dared. She tries, each time, to erase that line between them more and more.
Cordelia may insist upon it, but what’s wrong with being attracted to her? It’s not weird, not at all. Maybe if she were younger, sure, but she’s pretty certain that there’s only a couple of years between them. Not to mention this undeniably chemistry that Cordelia tries to sweep under the proverbial rug.
Cordelia smiles, then makes to return to her work even if Misty wishes she’d stay and talk all night. As such, something totally dumb comes out of her mouth. “You want any help?”
Her eyes move to the books to help Cordelia understand, but even so there is a splutter of a reaction.
Then, she shakes her head and gives this nervous laugh. “I’ll manage, thanks. And you should really get on with your work – you aren’t going to learn about plant genetics talking to me all night.”
“Yeah but I’d have more fun,” Misty confesses easily.
Cordelia smiles again, a gentleness about her. “I think you’re seriously overestimating the fun there.”
“Think I’d always have fun with you.” She grins, all but winking
The woman studies her, a little flabbergasted. “Have you always been so shameless?” she teases.
“Only for pretty librarians.”
She readies herself for the retort back, for the knock down into reality where Cordelia redraws the line between them. For once, that doesn’t happen. The blonde has a moment of pause, eyes glistening in the low level lighting, then she offers Misty a genuine smile. “Well, I’ll count myself lucky.”
With that, she leaves Misty sat there stewing in her own surprise and, dare she say, hope.
“You can’t have that in here.”
Misty doesn’t glance up straight away as she’s reading a particularly interesting paragraph about newts. “It ain’t food,” she tells Cordelia.
“I – then what is it?”
“A jar of mud.” She deadpans, “and I sure as hell don’t plan on drinkin’ it ” Now, she does give Cordelia the attention she deserves and instantly regrets it; the reason being that her heart skips about twenty beats and she could be taken to the emergency room any second now under the assessment of lovesick.
Cordelia puckers her lips together, a shiny pink today, and eyes the jar again. She leans in closer, bringing with her this digging waft of strong perfume. “The other students are complaining,” she tells Misty. “They say it smells bad.”
“Well, yeah – it’s literally got gator shit in there.”
“And you brought it into my library?”
“No rules on that.”
She sighs out, like she does an awful lot at the minute. Not annoyed, not really, but her eyes relent on Misty.
Whose innocent smile widens the longer she does. Reclining, she gazes up at Cordelia the way the earth does to the sun, wearing just as much reverence; Cordelia’s radiance, however, would have any celestial body envious.
Misty takes advantage of the quiet. “Did I tell you how downright pretty you’re lookin’ today, darlin’?”
“I can ban you, you know.”
“Ah, you’d miss me too much,” Misty laughs, “then you’d have to get me to come back – it was be this whole embarrassin’ thing and we wouldn’t want that, huh?”
Cordelia huffs and puffs, but remains firmly planted on the spot. “You are impossible, I swear.”
It only encourages her and her thumping heart. “Guess I’d miss you a little, too,” She admits with a cheeky grin, “so in the spirit of neither of us missin’ one another, how ‘bout I put the jar in my backpack and we both forget about it?”
“It doesn’t come out again.” Cordelia insists.
“Nope, not even for a second.”
With a tight nod, they have a spoken truce, even if she knows Cordelia is most definitely being far too lenient. “What do you even have that for?” the woman probes, covering her nose as the exchange from table to bag is made, “oh Misty, it does not smell good at all.”
“It’s for class,” She shrugs.
“Dare I ask more?”
Misty laughs mischievously. “At your own risk.”
Said risk is not taken, and she again watches Cordelia retreat. The new twist to their routine is added when Cordelia pauses half way, turning to look at Misty over her shoulder. When she notices she’s still under her gaze, she quickly throws her attention ahead again.
Too late, as Misty now turns back to her reading with teeth tugging on her lower lip.
“I told you, I got the date extended.”
“It says here the – ”
Misty tries her best not to be rude, but her temper flares. “I know that’s what you said, but I’m tellin’ you that I got a couple days more, which means they’re not late.”
The ill tempered brunette has very little care in those beady pupils. In fact, the disinterest is actually kinda startling, but it gives Misty a bad feeling.
She watches as the keyboard is tapped away at. “It says here they’re late – I do what the computer says.”
“That six dollars and – ”
Misty is all but gaping at the woman in her frustration when her savior walks in from nowhere. She places a hand on the other librarian’s arm, coaxing her away. “Hey, I’ll take care of this. You can go get your lunch.”
There’s a quick exchange, an explanation of the situation that leaves Misty leaning on the counter with her head held in both her hands
As soon as the other woman disappears, she readies herself to plead her case with one impressive inhale.
“Cordelia – ”
“I’ve already cancelled the fee.” Her gaze doesn’t move from the screen, only to peer at what books Misty had been trying to take out. “Hm, baking. Experimenting, are we?”
Misty continues to let her mouth flounder in confusion.
“You cancelled it?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”
She’s overcome by a lot at once; a gratitude, a confusion, and this fuzzy little feeling that wraps around her chest. “I wasn’t lyin’,” she insists, “they weren’t late this time, I promise.”
“Misty.” Holy shit, she’s put her hand atop Misty’s, where hers is warm and soft, and a welcome weight. “I believe you, it’s fine. Just forget about it.”
She’s so overwhelmed that the confidence and teasing scurries away, and instead her body falls victim to some serious feelings. Misty peers over to Cordelia, down to her lips where yearning finds her. Maybe she’s in deeper than she thought.
“Thank you.” She whispers.
Cordelia slowly pushes the new books toward her. “Go enjoy your baking,” She grins, finally releasing her hand from Misty and, as such, releasing said woman from her spell.
“Uh, yeah – I will. If it turns out any good, I’ll bring some in for you.”
Now, normally Cordelia would retell her golden rule – no eating in the library, Misty - that she’s sure is from her own making. The delicate smile she earns instead takes a little more delving to enjoy. Thankfully, she’s ready to dive in head first.
“That’d be nice,” Cordelia nods, biting at her lip.
She doesn’t move slender fingers from near the worn spines, so as Misty grabs them hands graze again.
And Cordelia may as well be charged with a thousand volts for the sheer reaction she feels.
Misty scans row after row, deciding that her untrained eyes are never going to be any good at this. As such, she seeks out better help, searching for one librarian in particular.
Only, she doesn’t quite greet her straight away.
The sight she stumbles upon is the woman stood on the very tiptoes of her pumps, one hand clutching the bookcase and the other reaching impossibly high above. Tiny grunts of exertion push past her lips (enough to drive Misty crazy) as she attempts to reshelf the book.
Her determination is such that she soon hops up on the first shelf in those rickety heels. A daring question, Misty thinks, that soon proves too precarious as the stumbles backwards from a loss of balance. Arms swinging around, lips pushing out a yelp, Cordelia for once seems anything but gracious, but Misty doesn’t care. It's actually nice to see some fluster in the woman. Either way, she had rushed forward the second she’d sensed a moment of danger and catches Cordelia with ease in her arms.
“Gotcha.” She laughs, arms just under her ribs and helping her back to stability on her feet.
“Oh, Misty.” Cordelia’s face is redder than she ever remembers it being. “I – thank you, I must admit that was rather embarrassing.”
“Least you didn’t fall flat on your face,” She shrugs. “That would’ve been worse, right?”
Cordelia nods, neck slowly tilting down. It’s then that they both seem to notice their proximity, how they linger without reason toward one another. Misty clears her throat, slowly retracting her hands from where they’d descended naturally onto Cordelia’s hips – it hadn’t been helped by the fact that a certain blonde’s hands seemed to have guided without prompting and now sit atop them. “I – er. . .
“Sorry.” Cordelia chuckles at her own silly actions. “That was. . .”
To push free from the awkwardness, she reaches for the textbook now lay abandoned on the ground. “Here,” She offers, “I'll get that for you, darlin’.”
She does, returning it to the high shelf that Cordelia couldn’t quite manage. Eyes are on her the entire time, the heat of scrutiny, but one that Misty basks under. From Cordelia, she’ll always enjoy it.
As she turns back, wearing a timid and hopeful smile, she finds musing in the woman.
“Why do you call me that?” She asks in a whisper. One ‘cause well, it’s a library, and two, ‘cause the words feel secret.
Just as her answer does. “It suits you.” Then, the doubt fights and claws its way through. “I can stop, if you want. I’ve only been teasin’ you. . .”
“No, it’s – it's fine.”
Misty’s smiles grows optimistically bigger. “Good.”
“Good,” Cordelia agrees, almost a little breathless.
And, after a second of just admiring how pleasantly flushed Cordelia is, Misty finally remembers the reason for seeking her out. “Hey, can ya help me find these books?”
“Oh, right. Of course I can. Just give me a minute.”
Misty sighs softly. “Anything, darlin’.”
“Guys, come on, this is a library – not the school yard!”
The sound of her voice works a switch inside of Misty, bringing spring where there was winter, a spark of joy.
She lifts her gaze, meeting eyes with Cordelia across the room.
Said spark sits there, too. Merely in just one look. A few seconds that seen like a lifetime.
She stays longer than she normally would that night, hanging on every and any interaction that the two may come across.
As she makes her way over to the counter, Cordelia is hunched over the small desk plant not too far away from the moving fan. She doesn’t notice Misty at first as she is too interested with inspecting the leaves.
When she’s ignored for long enough, the Cajun speaks up. “Uh, Cordelia?”
She springs up. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”
Misty begins the process of finding books from her admittedly unorganised bag. “What’s wrong with your plant?”
“Only on a couple of the roots, but not ideal is it?”
Misty shakes her head. “Try usin’ a mix of bakin’ soda an’ soap. . .you can use rubbin’ alcohol, too.”
There’s a hum of appreciation, a soft smile as she writes down the suggestions, “thanks, guess it’s handy having a plant expert around.”
“I wouldn’t call myself an expert,” She takes on a growing shyness at the compliment.
“Well.” Cordelia begins in playfulness as she starts to scan the returned items, “let’s hope that you’re better with plants than you are at returning books because – oh.”
Misty panics. “Oh?”
While she’s all but ready for some terrible news, it is Cordelia that is downright befuddled.
“You’re handing them in two days early?”
Running a hand through her curly hair, Misty makes eye contact; she both loves and hates how her body sings at the simple connection. “Yeah, well – you musta trained me well.”
Cordelia pushes the books aside. “Very funny.”
“Plus, the fines were startin’ to get expensive.”
“Oh, I can imagine. I think you are the worst one here for late fees.”
She blinks. “Really?”
“Yup.” And Cordelia wears her own smugness, a little quirk of her lips that has Misty leaning in. “Sometimes I think you do it on purpose.”
She places her elbows on the counter, weight pushed forward on it, and smirks. “You do?”
Cordelia, in turn, reciprocates that movement and mirrors with her own. “Yes, to do nothing other than annoy me.”
“Ah, you got me. Worth it for the look on your face.” She confesses, maybe devoid of any real joking.
Eyes shining and cheeks bright, and the air around her buzzing with something akin to excitement, Cordelia further closes the gap between them. “What look?” She teases, fingers just happening to move and brush against Misty’s.
The Cajun giggles. “You kinda look all hot and bothered. . .”
Here, mere inches apart, she is full witness to the incredulity in her response, ears primed to hear the way she hisses her voice out. If anything, it makes her laugh even further.
But their movement is ruined, closeness pried about with the crowbar that is an impatient line of other students that want to check out books.
The two fly apart, flattening hair and subconsciously keeping their hands busy, and Misty tries to ignore the heat on her own skin.
“What are those?” Misty eyes the mysterious equipment with distrust, going as far as stepping away from it.
Cordelia rolls her eyes fondly. “It’s a new system. So you can check in and out your own books.”
“But that’s your job!” She exclaims, utterly aghast.
“I do other things than check how much your late fee is, Misty.” The woman points out, half smiling as she reads through the book in her hands, “it actually saves a lot of time, you know.”
But – but. . .
She tries not to panic at the idea of their interactions being cut in half – sadly, she falls and her heart spasms painfully in her chest.
As if able to see the anguish, Cordelia drops the book and saunters over to her own computer where she gestures for Misty to come over. “Look, you can still check out here if you want.”
Misty nods keenly. “I don’t do new technology.”
“No,” Cordelia agrees with airy laughter, “I did think you’d hate it when it was installed the other day – can I have your book?”
The idea of Cordelia considering her is this affirming little feeling that Misty clings onto. Slowly, she hands over the book and watches the surprise run across the librarian’s face.
“Well, who knew you were into romance, Misty Day?”
Don’t blush, don’t blush. Only, she totally does. “Well, something different, ain’t it?’
“You sick of reading about plants?” Cordelia perches herself on the counter again, tilting forward. Just like they had done the other week, where they’d drifted far too close for mere coincidence, and they’d both stared at one another’s lips.
Misty almost moves to do the same, but then she’s clutching said romance novel to her chest and wishing her burning cheeks would relent. “I just saw it and thought. . .”
Her embarrassment is brushed away with chuckles. “It’s a good one. One of my favorites,” Cordelia offers, “if you need any more suggestions, then feel free to ask me.” Her smile is coy, coquettish, and Misty just about dies on the spot.
Outside, the wind crashes and rattles against the window, and with it brings its friend of horrid rain.
Misty stares miserably at it, staying for longer and longer in hopes that it will break just enough for her to safely make it home. Sure, she loves the rain, but not getting stuck outside in it. And certainly not with the idea of it drenching any library books; if she ruins another one, Cordelia is going to kill her.
She lets out a drawn breath as the rain seemingly only get worse. It forces her into a terrible decision on that dim night beneath the flickering of the library.
Just as she’s picking up her backpack, she hears footsteps behind her on the creaking floor. “Please tell me you’ve got a car,” comes Cordelia's voice, “or at least a ride to pick you up.”
Misty gives a sheepish smile and shrugs, “only two legs and the ability to run.”
That doesn’t go down well with the woman, who is already pushing her back into the seat. “You’re not going out in that. It’s torrential!”
“But – ”
Cordelia bats away any arguments with sure words. “Just wait here ‘til we close in fifteen minutes. I’ll drive you home.”
She glances up ever so gratefully, “you sure?”
“Of course. I can’t bare the thought of you walking home in the rain.” Cordelia glances around at the practically empty room, “so just. . .wait, okay? I won’t be long.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
In her hand, she has a stack of paperwork, and Misty’s head is already pulsing from her work, but she’d happily help Cordelia with anything.
“Just wait.” The woman grins, and a few moments later comes back with a coffee.
To which Misty raises her eyebrows. “Thought you didn’t like people drinkin’ in here?”
“Yeah, well – I seem to make an awful lot of exceptions for you.” She jokes, confesses, and walks away.
The wait is filled with music, with the attempt on work, and then finally bouncing her legs up and down as she considers the idea of being confined to a car with Cordelia. Just her and Cordelia, alone. A small space. Oh god.
She bites at the inside of her cheek, humming along in hopes of distraction, and then the lights of the room slowly start vanishing.
The only ones that suddenly remain are those over the counter, where Misty goes to stand. “Hm,” she begins, “kinda creepy, huh?”
“You get used to it.”
Cordelia suddenly looks down to the book in Misty’s fingers, “did you wanna check that out?”
“No, I’m done readin’. Was gonna put it away but then you made it all dark.” Her joke falls on unwilling ears, and she suddenly remembers just how anal the woman is about her precious library, “do you want me to put it back?”
Cordelia is already rolling her eyes, setting off into the long stretches of shelves without bothering to turn the lights back on. As if imprinted on the back of her hand, she moves through the maze with purpose, speed, and Misty finds herself following like a lost puppy.
Only the light of the streetlamps outside give them any sight, forcing their pupils into wide saucers. She sees Cordelia’s in her own impaired sight, as beautiful as she could ever imagine.
She finds those words suddenly sitting on her lips here in the darkness. “Cordelia.” Misty whispers, drowned by the rain.
Cordelia, full of super senses apparently, hears. “Yes?’
It is breathed out, maybe staring just as much trepidation as the Cajun has found caught in her own throat. ‘Cause perhaps it hasn’t gone amiss to either that they are alone for the first time ever, that hearts beat and race maybe in one combined goal.
Misty chickens out for a second, peering down at the book. “Did you want me to put that back?” She questions, pointing to where she’d found it.
It leaves Cordelia little choice but to agree upon seeing the higher shelf. Strangely, she doesn’t really move out of the way, forcing Misty to practically brush up against her as she does such a task. Doing so is too much, building a tension that seems all too impossible.
Then, she can see how Cordelia is smirking over at her, rolling her eyes.
“What?” She demands to know.
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re not going to kiss me!”
Misty gapes on the spot, lost for words.
Thankfully, Cordelia isn’t finished. “You really are all talk, aren’t you? Do you know how frustrating you are? Coming in here every other day with your late books and things you can’t find, and paper jams on the printer – anything to get me near you and now you won’t even – ”
Misty cuts off the rant with lips hurriedly pressed against Cordelia’s, so forceful in that movement that the woman ends up pressed between her and the bookcase. Words die within their joined mouths, where instead mewls and groans begin to take life.
Placing one hand on Cordelia’s hip, she plants fingers tightly in place and uses the other to cup just under her angular jaw. The way she kisses back is dizzying, affirming; Misty's relaxes so much that it’s a miracle she’s still standing, and yet it feels like every muscle could jump in celebration. Cordelia’s kisses are soft, slow then fast, fevered and yet tender. As she leans in further, lips migrating where they so wish, she can smell Cordelia’s perfume, her natural sweetness, and the final smell is a unique one that has Misty grinning against the woman’s neck.
Books; she smells like fresh books. And maybe this is where Misty suddenly gets her own appreciation of such a scent.