Chapter Text
“Ma’am, I recognise that you’re upset, but they ain’t doing anything wrong just by being here.”
“But—”
“Now, if it’s become a crime to catch some shut eye during the day, there’s a lot of people who’re going to be lining up to confess their sins. Myself included, rare chance I can find the time. But since that is not the case, I think those lovely folks catching a nap would appreciate it if you would stop disturbing them.”
“My children are here! You can’t just let those… those people in here in front of my children! What if they’re on drugs?!”
“As I said, ma’am, their only crime so far has been kipping on a couch that has seen better days. Haven’t even taken their shoes off, and that’s a courtesy some of our other patrons you’d approve of better don’t afford us. So, since they aren’t bothering no one, I’ll have to ask you to keep your thoughts to yourself or take them somewhere else.”
“I will not be spoken to this way! They are a danger to my children! You have to do something about this!”
“I reckon that might be the first thing out of your mouth I agree with.”
A breath.
“Cliiiiive!”
A messy haired young man poked his head out from between the shelves, an exasperated expression on his face as he walked over to the older librarian.
“When I said to yell if you needed me while I was shelving, I wasn’t expecting you to be quite so literal.”
“Well I put in the stationary order last week and it hasn’t arrived yet, so the shelving bell still doesn’t have batteries. How else am I meant to get a hold of you?”
Clive just shrugged, trying to hold back a roll of his eyes. The indignant woman Cid had been arguing with looked Clive up and down with a look of smug satisfaction.
“I take it you’re here to escort the problem out of the building. Finally.”
“Aye, that he is. Clive, if you’d do the honours of walking them out with me? Sorry ‘bout the kids, it’s a shame they have to witness this kind of behaviour.”
With a quiet sigh and shake of his head, Clive stood up a little straighter and used his arm in a sweeping motion to corral the woman, still preening with mistaken victory, towards the exit.
“Right this way, ma’am,” Clive murmured, quiet voice allowing no room for argument. With Cid bringing up the other side and two children trailing behind with embarrassment writ across their young faces, the family were escorted out the front door of the building.
“Now, I’m a man who believes in second chances. As well as third, fourth, fifth chances. So long as there’s an effort to improve, you’ll keep getting the space to improve. So don’t take today too hard. You’re being kicked out, aye, but it ain’t a ban on coming back so long as you check that attitude at the door next time you pass through it.”
This was far from the first time the two had enacted the double act with problem patrons, and Clive admired Cid’s change to an easy posture. The woman’s hackles had raised as she was escorted out, but already he could see the fight going out of her as Cid laid down the law. Thankfully, it looked like this time Clive’s intervention wouldn’t be necessary. While Cid was more than capable of looking after himself, sometimes the sight of Clive’s broad shoulders and physique in general helped end an argument before it could begin.
“I’m going to assume it came from a place of wanting to protect your kids from the horrors of the world, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. But those people in there are just that. People. They’ve got it tougher than most, and the last thing they need is to get chased out of one of the few safe places they’ve got left. They’re not bothering no one, but if that were to change we’ve got protocols in place. The library’s a safe place for everyone, meaning it’s safe for them and safe for you. So, hopefully we’ll see you back here after you’ve gone home and had a think about everything today.”
After a last token protest, the woman and her kids walked towards the carpark and Clive let his shoulders drop in relief. Escorting patrons out wasn’t an every day occurrence, but still happened far more often than Clive would enjoy.
Cid strolled back to Clive and clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Good work, lad. Always goes easier with you backing me up. Take a break, you’ve earned it after that. I’m taking a smoke break if you want a chat with me, just need desk coverage first.”
As he strode back inside Cid pulled out his cigarette case, getting a paper ready to roll a cigarette while he told Dorys to cover the desk for him. Clive couldn’t help admiring the easy confidence in the man even after the interaction, nor the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he headed to the kitchen to make himself tea.
While waiting for it to steep, he ducked into Cid’s office to snag his grotty mug off his desk. The damn thing had never been washed in its life, despite Clive’s best efforts. It was unassuming enough from the outside, a plain white mug like the dozen others in the staff kitchen. The inside however had ceased to be white an undetermined number of years ago, the brown stain of a thousand cups of coffee deeply permeating the poor ceramic vessel.
No matter what Clive tried, Cid had some kind of sixth sense when it came to the gross mug he drank everything out of. As soon as Clive had the thing in the sink ready to scrub the man would materialise out of nowhere to snatch it back, stopping just long enough to fill it with water for drinking rather than cleaning.
Once, Clive had managed to sneak away while Cid was distracted with a patron. Thinking his victory was finally at hand, he had dumped baking soda in it only to see a shadow fall across the sink. Stupidly, Clive thought that maybe Cid would at least rinse the damn thing to get the baking soda out. But no, without breaking eye contact Cid filled the mug with water and chugged the cloudy concoction.
“Thanks lad, I needed something for my indigestion,” was all Cid had to say on the matter. Apart from the weeks’ worth of bitching about the lingering taste of baking soda.
Clive smiled to himself at the memories, approaching the sink once again intent on cleaning the mug. He hadn’t expected much from this attempt, and he hadn’t even touched the tap before a hand clapped him heavily on the shoulder.
“Now I know you’re not trying what I think you’re trying. Be a good lad and make us a coffee without the preamble, hmm?”
Clive, to his immense credit, suppressed a full body shiver as that gravelly voice purred close to his ear. Flames, but the things that man’s voice did to him. Clive had to give himself a mental shake. Cid was his boss. Nothing could happen there, except maybe Clive losing his job for inappropriate conduct. It wasn’t Cid’s fault his voice sounded like sin wrapped in silk.
He let his shoulders drop in defeat and sighed. “One of these days, you’re going to die from some new species of mould found exclusively in the bottom of this mug.”
“And what a fascinating discovery that’ll be for all involved. Hop to it, I’m itching for a smoke and clearly you need supervision.”
Clive rolled his eyes, fussing around with Cid’s coffee and removing the teabag from his own (clean, thank you very much) mug when he was done. He handed the coffee over to Cid, trying carefully not to let his face flush as Cid raised it in a toast with a wink.
“Cheers. Shall we?”
Without waiting for Clive’s response, Cid strolled around the side of the building knowing Clive would be following. Clive was very pointedly not admiring the impressive dexterity Cid was displaying as he rolled his cigarette one handed. His traitorous mind slid to thoughts of what else those talented fingers—
Nope.
Not going there.
Clive busied himself taking a sip of his steaming tea and hoped Cid would mistake the flush for a reaction to not letting the drink cool.
Luckily for him, Cid was still fumbling with his busted old zippo. The lighter had been ready for retirement about ten years ago, but apparently Cid was the sentimental type and persisted in using the thing despite it only producing a flame after a full minute of quiet curses. Like his mug, Cid refused to allow any interference in his choice of lighter. His desk draw was as full of gifted lighters as his shelves were of mugs. The man was as stubborn as the day was long, and once he’d decided on using something he rarely replaced it.
Cid lounged casually against the side of the building as he took a drag of his cigarette, and after a deep inhale let out a plume of smoke with a rumble of contentment (it was not a moan, Clive chastised himself mentally as the sound elicited a burst of warmth in his chest). The barely perceptible tension Cid held in his body released and he grinned at Clive, who once again buried his face in his tea in an act of nonchalance.
“I already said it, but good work before. That could have turned nasty. Thanks to our timely intervention though, those two will get a good kip and that lady might come back a little more empathetic next time.” Cid sipped at his coffee, nodding his approval. Clive knew how he liked it, not too sweet and with a dash of milk to take the edge off the acidity. “Dorys told me Martha emailed back; she’ll be by this afternoon to see what she can do for them. There isn’t a lot of room in the Rest these days, but she should be able to pull something together if they’re willing. At least a hot meal hopefully.”
Clive nodded, glad to hear it. Cid had contacted Martha’s organisation, The Rest, that morning when the two rough sleepers had first come in. They were both polite, far too young to be on the streets. Not that it there was any age that made it better, really. It wasn’t the first time people had sought out the safety of the library to get a few hours of sleep where they didn’t have to watch their backs, and it wouldn’t be the last. Cid had built up a network of local charities and businesses willing to help people in need, carefully vetting everyone to make sure he never sent anyone in need to someone who wouldn’t take care of them.
For all Cid had said earlier he believed in second chances, he had no mercy for anyone who took advantage of those in need he sent their way.
“Now, how are you after everything? If you need some time off desk and off the floor we can probably get you some time out the back reviewing books to be weeded so no one bothers you. Otherwise, you’re welcome to keep shelving for a while. Up to you how you take the rest of the day.”
Clive thought about it for a few moments, then shook his head. “I think I’m fine staying on the floor. But the weeding does need reviewing, so I might tackle that after the shelving is under control.”
“Easy enough then.” Cid ashed his cigarette in the nearby ashtray. “I’ll go relieve Dorys from the circulation desk. I’ve got a meeting in about two hours I’ll need to be in my office for, but she’s agreed to cover desk then so you should be free to float where you’re needed.”
The two headed back inside together, Cid peeling off towards the desk and Clive to rescue the shelving trolly he abandoned earlier. He noted that in his absence it had been clearly perused, one of the titles missing and three more thrown haphazardly among the others. He put those aside to return through the system after he was finished, always cautious of the strange places patrons thought returned books should live other than the slot in the wall clearly marked ‘Returns’. Better safe than sorry, especially after being on the receiving end of a few phone calls about overdue loans that had been shelved.
The day wore on without much more excitement, allowing Clive to finally catch up on the morning’s pile of returns to be shelved. A slight rush around lunch time had him helping on the circulation desk, which calmed down enough for him to finally escape out the back to tackle the weeding review as the afternoon began.
As he closed the door to the workroom behind himself, the door to Cid’s office opened. A man strode out, his face cold and hard as granite. Black hair, styled neater than Clive’s own but of similar length, framed hard eyes that sent a chill down Clive’s spine as their gazes locked. His countenance was at odds with the deep blue shirt casually unbuttoned to halfway down his chest beneath the open black suit jacket.
The man’s eyes narrowed slightly as he silently appraised Clive, frozen in place by the door. There was something familiar in his face, but Clive couldn’t place him. Palpable relief coursed through his body as he was released from the man’s piercing appraisal, a quiet “hmph” the only noise to break the silence before he stalked out of the building.
Clive took a few seconds to gather his bearings again, before gently knocking on the door of Cid’s office as he poked his head in.
“I’m… I’m making tea. Did you want me to make you another coffee?”
Cid’s head shot up from where he’d been holding it in his hands, a strained smile that couldn’t quite make it to his eyes greeting Clive.
“Please,” was all Cid could respond with.
As Clive took Cid’s filthy mug to the kitchen, he couldn’t bring himself to engage in their ongoing game to clean it.
Not after the look on Cid’s face.