Madam Librarian
A long, long time ago, in a far away land, one Miss Shannon was born. Now, Shan is celebrating her day of birth, and I would like to offer her a small token of my love for her.
Shanny requested this specific fic last November. Yes, I’ve been working on this (on and off) for nearly a year and it’s still not finished. BUT - here is part one of what will probably be only two or three of a silly little fic I like to call “Madam Librarian.”
supportyourlocalshannon, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I love you dearly. I hope you had the best day ever. Just hang in there for me; a song and dance may or may not be coming soon. I love you!!
Madam Librarian
Katniss could not stand working the evening shift at the library. Unfortunately, as part of her graduate assistantship, she didn’t have much of a choice of when or where her shifts were assigned. Lately, her advisor, Haymitch Abernathy, had given her the night shift, where she spent the majority of her time helping the student athletes and signing off on their study hours. Haymitch told her that too many of his baseball players were failing their pre-requisite classes and figured if anyone could whip them into shape, it would be Katniss; hence why she was now subjected to the 7pm-11pm shift four nights each week.
The first few nights he scheduled her that way, Katniss objected, lecturing Haymitch on the importance of having personal time. “Don’t worry, Haymitch. I’m only 22; I couldn’t possibly want a night off to have a semblance of a social life,” she had argued, receiving a cackle in return. He knew that her aversion to working the night shift had nothing to do with wanting a social life and everything to do with wanting to be in bed watching Netflix at eight o’clock instead of midnight.
It wasn’t until her third week of pulling night shift that he came in: a certain first baseman with wavy blonde hair and bright blue eyes that could stop you in your tracks. He was quiet but polite, always lounging in one of the oversized chairs the library provided to give the illusion of a relaxed atmosphere. Every night he worked diligently, either poring over a textbook or typing away at the keyboard of his Macbook. He didn’t spend his time dicking around with his team members, just barely accomplishing anything. Instead, he encouraged them to use their time wisely and ask him for help if they needed it.
On more than one occasion, Katniss glanced up from her own laptop to find him watching her. Each time it happened, she felt her face and chest flush as they both looked away, focusing on anything but each other. When she had the courage to look back, his nose was buried in his computer or his book, but Katniss was able to catch just how red the tips of his ears were.
That was the extent of their interaction for a couple weeks, besides the mandatory ‘could you please initial this for me?’ conversation. If it could be called conversation. The blonde boy—Peeta Mellark, his sheet read—began making regular appearances during Katniss’ library hours, and she was starting to rather like it. She told herself it had to do with her appreciation of seeing a student athlete working diligently toward his classes, and nothing to do with his warm smile or the way his eyes wrinkled at the corners when he laughed at one of his teammates’ jokes. And it definitely had nothing to do with the tight baseball pants he wore when he came straight from practice. Nope. Not one bit.
Peeta didn’t set out to attend his compulsory study sessions specifically when she was working; not initially, at least. Although if anyone asked, he would explain it was a happy accident that it worked out that way. After a few weeks of going to every late-night session with the hope of seeing the beautiful girl with the silver eyes, he noticed a pattern: every Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, she was there to initial his time sheet.
It was difficult for Peeta not to notice her. He assumed it would be difficult for anyone, but while Peeta’d had plenty of crushes before, there was something about this girl that drew him to her. Sometimes he saw her helping his teammates with remedial math or English 100, and he couldn’t help the jealousy he felt toward them. More than once, he considered putting away his thorough, well-organized notes and raising his hand to ask for her help. However, every time he thought of it, he also thought it might make him look stupid, and he wasn’t about to dumb himself down to a grad student.
She didn’t seem like the type to judge, but what did he know? In an effort to impress her with his study skills, he sat in a corner, usually by himself, and worked through her entire shift, checking on her often. He would only pack up just before 11 PM, in order for her to sign his slip. Instead of asking for her help with schoolwork, once or twice Peeta took the initiative to strike up an awkward conversation, but she was not having it. So, Peeta forced himself to settle for sharing awkward eye contact and shy smiles with her. With the girl whose initials were KME.
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“Alright, boys, look alive!”
Everyone on the fourth floor startled as Haymitch barreled through the door of the designated study floor one Friday night. Katniss rolled her eyes as most of his baseball players straightened in their seats, adjusting their textbooks and notebooks in order to seem busy. They couldn’t possibly find him intimidating, could they?
“That means you too,” he addressed Katniss, to which she rolled her eyes again. Even harder, if that were possible. “You keepin’ these boys in line for me, Sweetheart?”
“You really have to stop calling me that,” she said as she saved the paper she was working on before minimizing the document. “You’re old and creepy and people will start to say things.” Haymitch grinned at her, a rare sight for his team to see. Sarcasm and dry wit were two of the many things Katniss and Haymitch had in common that allowed them to get along. Neither of them liked many people, including each other if you asked them, but they had a soft spot for one another after years of working together and learning they had similar backgrounds.
“What do you want, Haymitch?” she asked, not looking up as she searched her textbook for a specific quote she wanted to use in her paper.
“Can’t I come in to see my team hard at work during their study tables?” He asked, barbing her. “Maybe I can help them with whatever you can’t figure out,” he finished with a wink.
Katniss sat back in her chair with her arms folded across her chest, and said nothing. Haymitch barked his laughter, slapping his hand on the desk because he was laughing so hard, a noisy habit he carried with him wherever he went, including, apparently, the fourth floor of the library. The coach had drawn his team’s attention as soon as he walked in the door. Now the men just watched, fascinated by the exchange between their usually silent study monitor and their loud and outspoken head coach.
“Everyone in this room would probably agree that I’m smarter than you,” Katniss quirked a brow at him.
“Guess you don’t need my help with your thesis, then!” He responded. One of the qualities Haymitch admired most in Katniss was her ability to keep up with him when it came to sarcasm and shit talking. They had built a rapport with one another, and although they often teased, they had a mutual respect for each other.
“You know Effie,” Haymitch continued once his howling laughter subsided. “Always on my ass about something,” he grumbled.
Katniss pulled up a spreadsheet she had created on her Macbook that tracked the baseball team’s study times. She printed three copies to the library’s wireless printer and retrieved them while Haymitch checked in with the team members present, asking about their classes and if they’d completed their mandatory lifting for the day.
Returning to her seat behind the desk, Katniss set two copies on the counter and filed one in the accordion file where she kept all of her own important papers. Knowing Haymitch couldn’t keep track of one copy, let alone two, Katniss always printed a third copy so she had it on hand for when he inevitably lost the first two.
Haymitch made his way around the floor, making sure his team got their questions answered while also discussing workout plans for the following week. Katniss noticed he spent a considerable amount of time with the blonde boy, just talking. As her advisor returned to her desk, Katniss lifted the two printouts in his direction.
“Always a step ahead of me, aren’t ya, Sweetheart?” he asked, chuckling.
“Well someone has to keep track of your shit for you,” Katniss’ reply was smug but honest. Haymitch had agreed to be her graduate program advisor despite hating graduate students, and in return she acted as his personal secretary most days.
“Is this what Effie needs? Do I have to sign something?”
Katniss rolled her eyes at him. “I already signed it; it’s fine. Just drop it in her office before Wednesday.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Peeta begin to pack his bags. Instinctively, she checked the clock. It was only 8:30 PM; he was leaving early tonight. Katniss tried her best not to acknowledge the twinge of disappointed she felt at the thought of him heading out.
“Alright, well I’m heading home, since I’m not needed here,” Haymitch said with mock arrogance. “There’s nothing else you need, Katniss?” This time he was actually asking her, because through their joking, he genuinely cared about the girl he had gladly taken under his wing at the university.
“We’re good here,” she assured. “I think I can hold down the fort,” Katniss slipped back into their teasing.
Shaking his head, Haymitch headed for the exit. “Goodnight, Sweetheart,” he called without turning back, pushing through the door as Katniss reopened her textbook.
Katniss had just found the quote she’d been searching for earlier when she heard the familiar sound of a throat being cleared. She lifted her head from the book as Peeta set down his time card for her to initial, verifying that he indeed studied this evening. Katniss gave him a small smile and he greeted her with his usual ‘hey’ as he searched his messenger bag for a pen. Before he could retrieve one, Katniss lifted the pen she held in her left hand.
“So, uh…” he began, and Katniss toyed with the end of her braid as she searched the grid for the tiny box awaiting her initials. “Your name is Katniss?”
“Mhm,” she confirmed with a nod of her head, sliding the signed paper back to him.
“That’s a beautiful name,” he noted.
Katniss smiled but looked away. “Thanks. I’ll pass that along to my mother. She picked it.” She mentally scolded herself for the off the cuff remark she typically threw out when people commented on her name. It’s not like she had any say in it; how is it a compliment to her?
“Thanks to Haymitch,” he scrubbed the back of his neck that was growing redder by the second. “I have one of three now.”
“One of three?” she cocked her head.
He held the paper out to her again, running his index finger down the list of initials. Her initials. “‘K.M.E.’” He said. “At least now I know what the ‘K’ is for.”
Katniss’ blush matched Peeta’s now. She secretly - very secretly - had hoped he had noticed her, but never had a way of knowing for sure. She didn’t know why it mattered, but she got a small thrill knowing maybe he had taken an interest in her.
Taking her silence as disapproval, Peeta shuffled away from the desk, breaking Katniss from her moment of reverie. “Bye, Peeta,” she blurted after him. He turned to face her, an almost disbelieving look on his face. A silent question formed in his eyes. “Your, uh… Your paper.” She pointed to the time card that was still in his hand, his name neatly printed in at least two different places on the sheet. “I see it like four times a week. So, uh... Yeah…” Katniss fiddled with the braid that hung on her shoulder, mortified with herself.
A wide grin spread across his face as Peeta realized, just a minute after she had, that Katniss had taken note of him. “Bye, Katniss,” he waved a little as he made his leave. “I’ll see you soon,” Peeta smiled again as he pushed through the heavy door that led to the stairwell. He practically skipped home that night.
