fandomhigh | Library, Sunday

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Library, Sunday

Because Face was a mature person, he was not stubbornly sitting with his legs spread as far apart as physically possible and silently daring the etiquette books to do something about it.

Instead he just had his feet up on the collections desk.

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"That would explain others' reasons to give you that name," Cassandra pointed out. "Not your reasoning for keeping it."

"Some nicknames stick," Face said with a shrug. "I'm used to it, and I like it well enough."

And he could make so many more puns with it than with Garik.

"Would you prefer I use it exclusively?" Cassandra asked, tilting her head.

She kind of liked 'Garik'. Not that she'd admit it.

Face lowered his voice, aiming for sultry. "You can call me whatever you'd like," he said, before returning to a more normal tone. "I don't mind either. I'm more used to one, but it's not like I can't face the other."

See, puns!

Please excuse Cassandra. She had gone red in the face for... some reason or another.

"That is a most terrible pun," she muttered, "Garik."

Face was grinning broadly, the little shit. "Face it, my puns are awesome."

Cassandra made a disgusted noise.

She was very good at those.

Face continued grinning, because, again, he was a little shit.

Cassandra stood up, placed one hand on the desk, and reached out to yank him up out of his chair.

Given Cassandra's general Cassandra-ness, Face was well and truly yanked to his feet...and kind of turned on.

Which was probably why he just kept grinning at her.

"Ugh," Cassandra said.

Kissing him would wipe the grin off his face, surely? She would try.

Well, it worked in the sense that it was hard to smile when you were enthusiastically using your lips for something else.

In the sense of stopping Face feeling inordinately pleased with himself? Being manhandled and kissed by a pretty girl was kind of counter-productive there.

It wasn't as if Cassandra had any other strategies short of beating him up or throwing the desk at him, which would be counter-productive to her interest in keeping his face intact.

... Maker, now she was doing it.

"You are terrible," she informed him, pulling back. "Stop it."

Mission accomplished.

"Stop what?" Face asked, oh so very innocently. "Kissing you?"

One day far in the future, Dia was going to have so many notes to share with Cassandra about shutting Face up.

"The puns," Cassandra muttered. "And the-- Do not play innocent with me, Garik."

About the puns. Which were clearly a capital offense. And she had just almost made another one of.

Puns were awesome. One of the highest forms of wit.

"But I'm so good at it."

"Puns are the lowest form of wit," Cassandra said. "It does not take much effort."

So she didn't seek them out?

"I only use the finest, handcrafted puns," Face protested.

Cassandra snorted. "It does not take much to work the word 'face' into a conversation," she pointed out.

Oh, sure, use logic. "But it does to work it in well."

"You call that 'well'?" Cassandra asked.

Choose your answer wisely, Face. She was still holding on to your shirt.

But was she going to kiss him again if he made more puns, was the important thing.

He decided to live dangerously. "When faced with a question like that..."

"Oh, Maker," Cassandra groaned.

She was too busy rolling her eyes to kiss him. Sorry, Face. Hopefully the edge of that desk wasn't pressing into your stomach too hard.

He had plenty to distract him from desks and their edges. "Too much?" he asked.

"It was too much three puns ago," Cassandra informed him dryly.

His mouth was still distractingly close, she realized.

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