Chapter Text
Jaime
It took Jaime a while to find the library in the labyrinth that was Westeros University. Wandering through the hallways, he found himself cursing repeatedly. He didn't have time for this, dammit.
When he'd finally located the library, a girl was seated behind the counter. She was easily one of the ugliest women he'd ever seen.
“Good afternoon, how can I help you?” The girl smiled up at him with chipped teeth. Her eyes widened slightly as she took him in and Jaime’s foul mood improved marginally. Yes, he tended to have that effect on women, even the ugly ones.
He didn't answer her smile, though. “I need an article, urgently.” He all but threw down the piece of paper holding the information in front of her.
Her eyes narrowed, but then she tore her gaze away to study the reference. She shook her head almost immediately. “This is not something that's in our collection, Mister –?” She ended on a questioning note.
“Professor Lannister,” he corrected her.
Her brow rose. “Professor? You must be new here, then. I've never –"
“Yes, yes, it's my second day,” he answered, growing more impatient with every ticking second and not attempting to hide it from his voice. “Now, if you could get me that article?”
“I'll have to order it in another library, Professor”. Clearly, the girl didn't understand.
“I don't think you understand, wench,” Jaime pressed. “I need that article. I can't continue my research without it,” he hissed, slowly and deliberately, as if talking to someone rather dumb.
She didn't seem impressed. “I'm good at what I do, Professor, but I'm not a miracle worker. I'll order it right away in another library, but as it is...” She checked the clock. “...3.30 pm now, on a Friday afternoon, it'll probably not arrive until after the weekend.”
She looked up at him. “Sorry.” She didn't sound sorry at all.
“But there's a chance it'll come in today, right?” He tried not to sound too desperate.
She shrugged. “There is a slight chance, yes.”
“Good,” he grunted. “Then I'll just wait here.”
The woman – Brienne, her name tag read – looked utterly horrified at the suggestion. “There's no need, Professor. Just... give me your e-mail and I'll be sure to send you the article as soon as it arrives here.”
“[email protected],” he spat. “Are you sure you'll -" The girl – Brienne – was starting to look rather annoyed. Good. At least he wasn't the only one.
“I will, as I said,” she cut him off. When she looked up, he noticed how peculiarly blue her eyes were. “I'll get this article to you to you as soon as possible. And if you would please let me get back to my work, now, I could actually manage to order it for you.”
Jaime nodded, slightly taken aback by her vehemence. “Just –"
“I understand,” she said pointedly. “It's urgent. Professor Lannister.” Then she shot him an absolutely angelic smile and for a moment, he felt like he was being ridiculed.
He did not take kindly to mockery, but as he definitely needed that damn article, he decided not to push it any further. He whirled around and left the library with as much disdain as he could muster.
After idly refreshing his mailbox for the umpteenth time, he realized he was not going to get that article today.
The clock read 17:27, the library was closed, and the ugly wench had probably headed home, taking pleasure in the knowledge that his weekend was completely wrecked. He stared at the screen for a moment longer and then snapped shut his laptop, teeth gnarling.
***
Brienne
As if the fact that is was Monday morning wasn't bad enough already, the arrogant new professor appeared to be waiting for her when Brienne arrived at work.
“You're late,” he said in a cutting voice, arms crossed tightly over his chest. It was only then that she noticed he only had one hand.
She tore her gaze away before he could see her staring, and sighed. “It's 8:15. I'm early,” she replied evenly without looking at him, fumbling to get her key into the entrance door's lock under his scrutinizing gaze. When it'd opened, she deliberately took her time putting away her stuff and turning on the computers.
She actually considered making herself some coffee first, but as her eyes met his – gods, but they were green. Green and, well, positively seething – she decided against it. “Well?” she asked, sitting down behind the counter.
“Well?” He all but spat. “The article, wench! Get me my article, now!”
“Ah, yes.” Brienne knew she was being mean, but she simply couldn't help herself. The natural disdain with which he treated her, was really grating on her nerves. “Let's see if it has arrived.” She tapped a key and couldn't help but smile as the e-mail application started loading painfully slowly.
Lannister was tapping the fingers of his good hand on the counter impatiently, but he refrained from any remark. Good.
When the program had finally loaded, the article was at the top of her inbox, indeed. Brienne couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. “It's here,” she announced. “I'm sending it to you right now.”
“Finally,” Lannister mumbled, while she was typing away on the keyboard. She'd expected him to leave right away, but he didn't make any move.
He was looking utterly relieved, though, and Brienne suddenly felt a pang of guilt at the glee she'd felt earlier. She'd always been proud about the fact that in almost every circumstance, she stayed professional, patient and supportive, but this man just seemed to bring out the worst in her.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asked, trying to sound at least a little more kind than she had before.
Lannister nodded. “I want to borrow some of the seminal books on HIV.” His eyes shot up to the old-fashioned clock hanging above Brienne's head. “Get them for me, wench.”
Her guilt was immediately squashed by his disdainful demeanor. “HIV is in section KRC, on the left. I'm sure you'll be able to find it, Professor,” she answered in a clipped voice.
“Gods, woman,” Lannister looked positively ready to strangle her. “I'm new here. I haven't got a fucking clue as to where those books are, and I'm in a hurry, in case you hadn't noticed. So if you would please do your fucking job!” He ended up almost shouting and Brienne was glad there weren’t any other visitors yet.
“Alright,” she hissed, standing up and taking pleasure in the fact that Lannister looked up at her in surprise, as if he'd only now discovered she was slightly towering over him. She sped to a quick trot towards the KRC section, leaving him to trail behind her. “Here they are.”
His eyes raked over the books and he hummed approvingly. Ah, at least something that seemed to be to his liking.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said in a soft voice, but he didn’t seem to hear her. His hand had come up to gently touch the book spines, and every now and then he carefully pulled out a book that seemed to spark his interest.
It was strange, seeing this haughty man in his element. Maybe he was one of those people who’re just better with books than with other persons.
Yes, that must be it, Brienne reminded herself 10 minutes later, when Lannister was back at the counter, yelling at her that it really wouldn’t kill her to lend him 7 books instead of the allowed 5.
She inwardly counted to ten before answering him. “I guess that it wouldn’t actually kill me, but the system simply won’t allow it,” she tried to explain.
“Then don’t put it in the system,” Lannister growled. He raked a hand through his hair. “Look, I practically waisted my whole weekend waiting for that article and now you’re telling me that I –“
He was never going to leave if she didn’t give him what he wanted. “Fine,” she said.
“So you understand that I really – wait, what? Fine?” Lannister’s eyebrows shot up almost comically.
“Yes,” Brienne said, moving her scanner over each book until it bleeped. “And I’m putting the 2 extra books on my personal account so I trust you to bring them back in time.” She shot him a warning look.
Lannister nodded – as close to a ‘thank you’ as she was ever going to get from him, she thought –, before pulling the pile of books clumsily towards his body with his left hand.
Brienne didn’t offer him a bag.
***
Jaime
By the gods, no. Please – no. This couldn’t be happening.
Jaime stared at the black screen in front of him and cursed loudly, torn between the urge to cry and the urge to slam his broken laptop against the wall of his office.
It was gone. All the research he had done, all the preparations for his presentation – they had just vanished along with the damn computer.
When he realized he was close to hyperventilating, Jaime closed his eyes for the moment and tried to remember the coping techniques he'd learned from the stress manager at uni.
Circle of concern (Repeat after me: “You have no power over this whatsoever. You cannot have control."): laptop crashed.
Circle of influence (Please repeat: "You are the one in control. Take action and try to relax doing this." ): get back articles. Prepare presentation again. Try to bloody relax doing this.
He took a few deep breaths and went for the library.