Archive of Our Own ^beta

The same dude comes in here all the fucking time. You’re not sure how he hasn’t read every book on the goddamn shelves, but apparently he hasn’t, because he keeps coming back and he keeps reading more books.

You’ve picked up some facts about him. His name’s Karkat. He likes romcoms; he raids the movies whenever you get new ones (which is...admittedly not very often. This is a fucking library , damn it, libraries are for books), but fuck, you could tell that just based on the books he checks out anyway. His favorite author is Sophie Kinsella (apparently she wrote Confessions of a Shopaholic? you’ve never heard of a dude liking that movie, or at least not openly admitting it, fuck), and the only time he ever really talks to anyone is to ask you or your coworkers for recommendations - authors like her, books like the one he read last week, shit like that.

Sometimes he’ll pick up a book from the shelf and curl up in one of the big comfy chairs and read the whole goddamn thing, and then put it back on the shelf and pick a new one to check out and take home. It’s honestly fucking impressive. You find yourself looking to see what he’s reading more often than you’d like to admit. Your coworkers like to make snide remarks about how much you “daydream” when he’s around (watching someone isn’t daydreaming, is it?), and for a long time you denied it.

And yet, here you are, handing him a Barnes and Noble receipt.

“What the fuck is this for?”

You’re managing to keep your expression to a small smirk. He’s one of the few people who will talk like that in here, and he only really does it when it’s you. Probably because you’ve slipped up a few times yourself, and he knows you don’t give a shit. Either way, it’s...admittedly cute.

“Pre-order,” you say casually. “Gotta show a receipt to pick ‘em up, right?”

He furrows his brows and scowls at you. He hasn’t bothered to actually read the damn thing yet. “Okay, that tells me a lot. A pre-order for what? And why are you shoving it in my face?”

You chuckle lightly. “Because it’s yours, dude. Actually read it and you’ll find out.”

He groans, grumbling something about you being a “fucking douchebag” as he picks up the paper and reads over it.  Suddenly his eyes widen ever so slightly. “Wait, this is-”

“Kingseller’s new book,” you say, butchering the woman’s name on purpose. His reaction is usually pretty hilarious, but today he doesn’t seem too worried about it. “Dude, you’ve read like...everything that woman has ever written. Literally everyone here knows how obsessed you are with her.”

He finally tears his eyes away from the paper to look at you. “Fuck off, I’m not obsessed .” There’s no conviction to his words, and you’re pretty sure he’s still in shock or something, because he doesn’t seem too elated yet. “Anyway, why would you give me this?”

You roll your eyes and sigh dramatically. “Because, jackass, I thought you’d like it. But hey, if not, I’ll take it back-”

“Don’t be a dick, you can’t just take something back after giving it someone!” He clutches the receipt to his chest protectively. 

Your smirk returns in near-record time. “So you do like it, then?”

His face flushes slightly. “...Yes.” He looks at the receipt again and pulls out his wallet. “I’ll pay you for it, hang on-” 

“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s a present.” You push his hands down a bit, nearly knocking the wallet out of his hands in the process. 

He somehow manages to furrow his brows further. “Why?”

You shrug. “You’re the “expert” on this kind of thing; you tell me.”

He still seems confused for a long time.

And then suddenly, his face reddens even more, and he looks away.

“...Fine. If I can’t pay you back for the damn book...maybe I can repay you by taking you to dinner?”

Fuck yes.

Your name is Dave Strider, and you just scored a date with the biggest nerd you’ve ever met.