Chapter Text
As you finish serving the last customer in the queue you stifle a yawn and glance out of the front window of Waterstones. The sun had set at least two hours ago and the streetlamps that lit the street managed to catch the winter air in all of its stark coldness. You almost regret having to finish your shift in the nice, warm bookshop and consider making a nest in the Fantasy section and slumming until morning but the thought of a cooked meal at home and your own bed has its allure.
You look around the empty bookshop. There had been a gradual rise in people recently as Christmas was approaching and people were trying to buy presents, or else questioning you about what books were hot at the moment that their friends or family might like as presents for Christmas (as if you would know what they liked, but you did your best to help them nonetheless), as well as the usual people who came in just to smile at the books, stare at their favourites and wistfully muse about all of the books they would buy if only they had the money. You knew that feeling only too well and could hardly blame them. You had felt that exact same way up until a few months ago, but now you practically lived in a bookshop.
“Hey,” your colleague Harry calls over to you as he walks down the stairs from the first floor. “Listen, would you be able to lock up today? I’m meant to be meeting my girlfriend and taking her to the cinema tonight-”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine,” you assure him, putting the thoughts of home out of your mind for a while longer. Harry places the keys down on the counter and rushes off to the staff room to grab his things. You walk over to the shop doors and lock them to hopefully discourage any more late customers, though when Harry scuttles past you hurriedly zipping up this jacket you hear the click of a lock as he opens the door to sneak out of the front entrance. You make a mental note to lock it again before leaving.
You turn back into the shop and begin your final checks before you can leave. You cash up your register, turn off the escalator, do a quick search through all the sections to be satisfied that all are clear of customers and finish in the staff room where you log the security cameras for the night and pick up your coat, scarf, gloves and bag.
As you walk out of the staff room you allow your thoughts to return to home but as you cross the Sci Fi, Fantasy and Horror section you realise that there is still a customer there. He is standing with his back to you in front of the Tolkien shelf, his focus fully on the book in his hands.
You cast your mind back and can’t recall seeing someone there before -he is so tall that you surely would have noticed him- therefore believing that he must have entered through the door that Harry had left unlocked. You silently curse Harry and rock awkwardly on the spot, trying to decide how best to deal with the situation.
“’Cuse me,” you begin in your politest possible manner, feeling a pang of guilt for tearing him away from his book. “I’m afraid we’re clos-”
The rest of the sentence gets caught in your mouth as he turns around and you realise that the customer you are addressing is Richard Armitage.
You feel as though you should have realised who he was sooner but he is wearing a heavy cotton coat buttoned up against the cold outside and his dark hair is covered by a blue beanie hat, masking his features from behind. But now that you can see his face (at the moment with slight stubble around that smooth jaw-line) you feel your heart skip a beat in recognition.
“Oh, sorry,” he says in that rich, deep baritone voice of his. “I’ll be very quick…”
Richard indicates the book in his hand and looks at you in a sheepish way. You feel yourself nodding slowly and he goes back to reading the blurb of the book, just in time for him to not notice the way your face is suddenly burning red. You turn away from him quickly.
What was the etiquette for this? Should you stand next to him and make polite conversation without seeming like you were trying to chivvy him along? Should you go and stand behind the counter just in case he wanted to make a purchase? Should you even be allowing him to stay after the shop had technically closed? You feel as though you can’t face him while your face was still glowing red so you return to behind the till and do your best to compose your face back to a normal colour.
After a minute Richard finds his way to you with the book in his hand. You feel a slight disappointment that his hands are gloved as he passes you the book, but you scan the barcode and turn the book over to look at the cover.
“Farmer Giles of Ham,” you smile. “An excellent choice!”
“Yeah, it’s one of the few that I’m missing from my Tolkien collection,” Richard admits.
“One of the few?” You raise an eyebrow at him.
“Well, when I was preparing to play Thorin in The Hobbit films I read so many Tolkien books to get into character, and I’ve loved his writing since I was young, so I made it specially to buy it,” Richard explains in an almost apologetic way.
You are puzzled by this. “You came here specially?”
“I looked online and saw one was in stock here,” he rambles, pulling off his hat so you can finally see his black hair which he has grown slightly longer and is frizzy from the hat. “And I was just down the road so I drove here but there was all the rush hour traffic, and then I couldn’t find a place to park…”
He puts his hat on the counter and takes his money out of his pocket. This seems like a lot of trouble for him to go to just for this book.
“Would it not have been easier to buy it online?” you ask with a quizzical smile.
“Yes, but then I’d still have to wait for it to be delivered, and bookshops are such a wonderful place. I’d hate to see them shut down if all of their business was stolen online and knowing I could have prevented it if I’d brought this book here instead,” Richard reasons perfectly. You feel a shot of pride as what he had said was true- so much of the shop’s business had disappeared to online that to have this one person standing against it gives you so much hope in your job. That and you have to agree that bookshops are wonderful!
Your smile becomes more adoring and Richard gives a shy laugh and turns his head from you slightly before looking back into your eyes. His gorgeous blue eyes staring into yours. There is a moment between you both before it becomes too intense for you and you look down at the till.
“That will be £9.99 please,” you mutter. Richard seems to give himself a mental and physical jolt as he sorts through his money and hands you a ten pound note, murmuring for you to “keep the penny.”
Richard slips the book into his coat pocket. “Thank you, I’m sorry to have kept you-” he starts.
“No, no, it’s fine,” you say. “Take care.”
“Take care,” he repeats. “And have a good evening.”
“And you,” you finish. Richard exits out of the door that Harry had indeed left unlocked and disappears out onto the street. You breathe a faint sigh.
That had been a random end to your shift, although his comment about seeking out a bookshop over choosing the internet had made your day. You wonder now if perhaps you should have asked for an autograph (or perhaps a photo) but the chance had already passed.
You lock the front door that he had exited out of and perform a very quick sweep of the store in case Richard hadn’t been the only straggler, and you are happy the store is empty. You go back to the counter and collect your things but as you start to leave you notice that his blue beanie hat is still where he’d left it when he had put it down. You pick it up. He had only left a minute or so ago, perhaps it might be possible that you could catch up with him to return it…
You make for the staff entrance in the storeroom, turn off the lights and exit the building, letting the door swing shut and locked. Pulling your scarf and coat firmly around yourself, you set off down the little alleyway around the side of the shop and towards the high street. The town is nearly empty, although a few youths are gathered by a fence not too far down who, when they see you, give an irritating cat-call.
Doing your best to ignore them you look from side to side, wondering which way Richard was most likely to have gone when turning to your right you see him rushing back towards the store. Sighing, you slowly walk towards him.
Richard looks in disappointment first at the locked doors, then through the window trying to see if his hat is still on the counter. When he cannot see it he gives a great sigh, his breath misting on the frozen air and his shoulders heaving, and takes a step back from the store.
“Hey,” you say when you are only a few steps away. Richard looks around in alarm but smiles when he recognises you.
“Hey,” he gasps. “I was wondering, you didn’t happen to see my hat, did you? It’s a blue beanie-”
You hold out the blue beanie to him. “This one?”
“That one!” he breaths in relief. He holds out his hand and takes the hat from you, his gloved hands brushing against yours again.
“I saw it on the counter, hoped you hadn’t got too far away,” you explain just in case he thought you had meant to steal it
“You’re amazing, thank you!” Richard pulls the hat on over his hair to cover his ears. “I got halfway to the car before my head realised it was too cold!”
“Yeah, it’s a very striking hat!” you nod absently.
“Thank you! I got it in New Zealand, it seemed a shame to lose it now,” Richard says.
“Cool.” You are aware you are nodding as much as the Churchill dog to what he is saying and try to make your head stand still on your shoulders. The catcalling from the youths has increased in intensity and though his gaze is fixed on you, you can tell the annoyance at them is growing in Richard’s face. You are getting rather annoyed at them yourself.
“Um, well, I’ve got to go now,” you start. Though you want to extend this encounter you are wanting more and more to get away from the youths.
“Oh, yes, are you off home now?” Richard stammers. You nod and you both say your farewells. However as you walk away from the store you find yourself walking right next to him. “Is it possible that we are walking in the same direction?” he laughs.
“I believe so,” you say.
Richard bows his head and grins in embarrassment? Awkwardness? Laughter? You can’t quite tell but that smile is quite infectious and feels good-natured enough.
“How are you getting home?” he asks you. “It’s quite late- is there someone meeting you?”
“Um, no. I’m getting the bus home,” you explain. Richard looks shocked.
“Whereabouts do you live?” he asks.
You point in the general direction. “It’s just out of town a bit. It’s kinda annoying though ‘cause the bus is never on time.”
“Do you want a lift?”
You stop in your tracks. “Excuse me?”
“Do you want a lift?” he repeats. “I feel I should do something for you after you went to the trouble of returning my hat…”
So often when you have been standing at the cold bus stop waiting for a bus that never sticks to the timetable you have wished for a knight in shining armour (or more accurately in a shining car!) to swoop in and courier you home, but you never truly expected it to happen. All of the warnings about never getting into cars with strangers flash up in your mind but right now you do feel ready to ignore them.
“Yes please,” you say, feeling slightly breathless. “Only if you’re not going out of your way to do it-”
“Not at all,” Richard smiles. Your knees buckle slightly but you fall in step next to him nonetheless.
He leads you to a nearby car park where only a few cars remain. The one he leads you to an expensive looking silver car which would look more at home on Top Gear than in this shabby car park! Richard sees the look of disbelief on your face.
“I’m borrowing it from a friend for a few days,” Richard explains. He strides a few steps in front and opens the passenger door for you. Your face flushes in embarrassment as you climb into the car. Inside it is just as luxurious as it appeared from the outside with the smell of new car mixed with muskiness.
As Richard busies himself in the boot you quickly grab your phone from your pocket and run off a text to Harry- Getting a lift home with someone. If I’m not at work tomorrow check CCTV for prime suspect! You haven’t quite ruled out the possibility that this might be the most luxurious kidnapping known to man!
You hit send as Richard climbs into the driver’s side, starts the car and pulls out of the car park. As you pass through the town you are able to make small talk which turns into more confident conversation (with you occasionally giving directions). You are able to ask some questions that you had about The Hobbit movies which Richard politely answers, giving you frequent glances between keeping his eyes on the road. It seems all too soon that you are pulling up outside your house.
“Thank you so much,” you say for what seems like the thousandth time. Richard merely waves his hand in a dismissive way.
“No problem. Is this your final day working this week or-”
“No, I’ve got another late one tomorrow,” you sigh, feeling ever more tired at the thought. Richard pulls a sad face which is too adorable to look at and you feel reluctant to leave the car despite being so close to your bed.
“Never mind,” he says.
“Well, take care,” you say, finally bracing yourself to open the car door. The cold air outside hits you like a ton of bricks in your exposed face after the heat of the car. Before you can get out Richard stops you, putting his now ungloved hand on top of yours. What feels like a jolt of electricity jumps up your arm at his slightly rough touch.
“By the way, I never did ask- what’s your name?” he asks, seeming very embarrassed at asking this so late into the conversation.
“Oh, (Y/N),” you reply, leaning back into the car.
Richard shakes your hand, his own hand enveloping yours. “Hi, my name is Richard,” he adds (somewhat unnecessarily).
“A pleasure to meet you Richard,” you laugh, playing along to the formality. Richard smiles and -before you can register what is happening- he leans over to you and places a delicate kiss on your cheek.
“Take care, (Y/N)” he says.
“And you,” you say, getting out of the car. You don’t need to worry about the cold anymore as you can feel a fire spread across your face from the spot where his lips had brushed your cheek. You watch the silver car pull away down the road and as you turn to your door your phone beeps. It is a text from Harry-
Err, should I call the rozzers?
You shake your head as you retrieve your keys from your bag. Better late than never, Harry!