Chapter Text
Poor thing looked exhausted.
She noticed everyday as he came in with darkening circles under his eyes, but never asked. And as his sweet sleeping face was sprawled out across multiple open books, glasses probably leaving a mark with how harshly they were pushed up his nose, she almost didn’t have the heart to tell him they were closing.
So instead she quietly packed up the pile he’d made further down the table.
Let him have another fifteen minutes.
When those dwindled down, she found him coming out of his slumber slowly. Tired chocolate brown eyes looked around at the lack of patrons and the dark outdoors through the windows.
“The other ones are sitting on a cart for you in the back,” she answered before he could question the lack of books. “It’s late to check them all out, but they’ll be waiting for you tomorrow morning.”
“Oh,” Peter said, suddenly more awake with her presence. “Wow, thank you, that’s very kind.”
“Figure whatever research you’re doing is really important,” she explained. “It’d be a hassle if you’d have to look for them all again.”
It’s the most bothersome part of his trip sometimes.
Most of the time he forgot to write down the titles and authors, so he’d have to spend more than an hour trying to retrace his research steps. Not that he’d ever voiced it to anyone at the library.
So she must have noticed it on her own.
A warm pink blossomed on his cheeks at the thought and he straightened out his glasses. But he said nothing as the two collected the remaining texts into their arms. According to his watch, the building was closing in less than four minutes and he didn’t want to inconvenience her.
“You must be some sort of scientist,” she mused as her eyes browsed the covers. Most of them were peer-reviewed journals and encyclopedias from the reference sections. They were consistent with the other twenty or so ones about biology and quantum physics that she’d pulled away from the table.
Some sort of genius.
“Maybe a long time ago,” he said with a warm smile. “Guess I still have the spirit for it though.”
She felt her heart stutter with his soft sentiment.
“I hope you never lose it,” she mumbled quietly to herself. Not quietly enough for Peter’ s ears, but he still said nothing.
Instead he let her collect the rest of the books into her arms and take them with her to the back of her office. The little click of her heels echoed in the now emptied building and he followed, flicking off the lights behind the two of them. Enough of his evenings were spent asleep in the pages for him to know the closing protocol.
And she was always somewhere in the periphery. The sight of her colorful skirts fluttering after her. The smell of her curling cream and perfume that wafted into his nose as she passed. The little clicks of her heels or her nails on her glasses as she pushed them up her face. Peter noticed them all, they were his favorite things about the library.
The rest of his collection was shelved just behind her spot at the front desk.
“They’ll all be here waiting for you,” she informed him as she slid the last few next to them.
“And that’ll be okay with you?” he asked, unsure if he’d be breaking some policy.
“Mhm, I’ll have them on hold for you, Mr. Parker.”
“Thank you very much.” It was another quiet beat before he registered fully what she said. “Wait, you know my name.”
By this point she was shrugging on a sweater and gave him a smile, saying, “You check out a lot of books, I must have seen your library card over 100 times already.”
Oh, right. He overthinks his oversight as she turns over a piece of paper to write out his full name in her handwriting. Then folded into a bookmark, she slides it between the pages of the last book on the end.
She writes my name so pretty. I need to ask if I can keep it.
(It’s only because she’s practiced more than once. Her coworkers had all seen the little scribbles in her notebook; of his full name, of his last and her first names, of hyphenated last names for the two.)
“Just make sure to come find me when you come back, okay? Some of the other librarians don’t let patrons do this.”
That’s a lie, but I just want to see you again.
“Of course, and again thank you so much.”
I would have looked for you anyways, I want to see you again.
“Have a good night then, Mr. Parker.”
“Peter.”
“Peter Parker, that’s really cute.”
You’re cute.
“That’s what my Aunt May says.”
“I hope you and your aunt have a good night, Peter.”
“Have a good night, miss…”
“Maria. Hernandez.”
“Good night, Maria.”
Another stutter of her heart. My name sounds so nice when he says it.
Peter gave a shy smile as he made his way down the front steps. And once the door swung closed behind him, Maria let herself give a whispered, excited squeal.
“Peter Parker,” she would occasionally sigh to herself as she finished closing down the library.
Meanwhile, Aunt May looked over her nephew who was awfully chipper this evening. As he hummed a familiar tune to himself in the kitchen, May wondered at what had him so dreamy eyed and smiling.
“I never knew you liked West Side Story,” the older woman questioned. “What’s got you in a singing mood?”
“It’s cheesy, but,” he began with a giggle, “I just met a girl named Maria.”