Can I Check You Out Tonight?

by slipstrike

Summary:

Bronze Koval is a librarian in the little town of Sugar Springs, Illinois. His family has higher hopes for him, but honestly? He's quite content with his life.

He has a nice apartment, an easy job, and a cute, dorky co-worker.

Notes:

my other wips are glaring at me from the other side of my google docs home screen

Chapter 1

Bronze’s alarm went off at seven am. Disgustingly early, if you asked him. Nothing worth doing ever happened before noon. Sleep tugged at the corners of his eyes, and it would be so easy to just give up and lose himself in another dream.

Unfortunately for his fantasy of sleeping in, Bronze was employed. A small redeeming factor in the eyes of his parents, but they had been hoping for something a little more… corporate ladder-esque. Bronze shivered at the thought of having to write emails with horrible phrases such as ‘let’s circle back on that’ and ‘just reaching out so we can touch base on this.’ Yuck. No, thank you. Bronze was perfectly happy to reorganize the shelves and help kids check out books at the public library. They never asked him to ‘align his synergy with the company’s values.’ Whatever that meant.

Well, you couldn’t please everyone, and if Bronze had to choose, he’d pick his own happiness every single time. No offense to his parents, of course. It’s just that they couldn’t understand why anyone would possibly be happy working a low-paying job in the middle of nowhere.

And the middle of nowhere it was. Sugar Springs’ population consisted of maybe five people and a horse. Or at least, that’s what it felt like some days.

Just the way Bronze liked it.

It was summer now, and the sun streaming through his windows threatened to light his bed on fire. Guess that's as good a reason as any to get up, he thought to himself.

The library always got pretty desolate while school was out. With no tests to study for, none of the kids ever wanted to come. Bronze was almost scared for the town’s literacy rates. If he were lucky, the only people he’d have to deal with today would be a couple of seniors checking out DVDs for their movie night at the social society.

Well, they’d be the only customers he’d have to deal with today. There were always his coworkers. He didn’t mind most of them. He might even go so far as to say he liked a couple of them. As long as they didn’t try to rope him into any of their many many ‘team building outings.’ Which was basically just code for ‘let's all go out for dinner and gossip.’

Now, don’t get him wrong, Bronze loves gossip as much as the next guy, but those team dinners tended to be just a little too sociable for his tastes. They dragged on forever. The last one had gone on until midnight. Bronze vowed never to go again. He couldn’t be spending his time with people who were so careless with their sleep schedules.

As Bronze spread some peanut butter over his toast, he idly wondered who it was he would be working with today. With the toast secured in his mouth, he sat at his dining table and pulled out his phone to double-check the schedule.

Let’s see… Today we’ve got: me (duh), Clarence (eurgh), Esmeralda (excellent), Tom (nice), Nancy (not sure how to feel about that), and—

Bronze smiled as he read the last name on the schedule. He’d be working with Deacon today. Very nice indeed, he mused. Deacon always did at least half of Bronze’s work. He was a bit of a pushover, but it favored Bronze well.

Yeah, today would be pretty good.

🍎🍎🍎

Bronze walked through the library doors at exactly nine am. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would bother showing up early if they wouldn’t be getting paid overtime. Maybe that was just his lack of work ethic talking, but honestly, for a salaried position, you wouldn’t catch Bronze showing up a single minute early nor staying a single minute late.

Bronze had hoped he’d be able to deposit his lunch bag in the breakroom without issue, but Clarence had been waiting for him. He even had that stupidly smug look on his face. Eugh.

“Hoodie again, huh, Bronze? It’s not exactly up to the dress code.”

Bronze rolled his eyes. “So? It’s cold in here. You all wear cardigans half the time, why shouldn’t I wear my hoodie?”

Clarence scoffed. “That’s different. Cardigans are classy. You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Maybe I did.”

“Would it kill you to put a little effort into your appearance?” Clarence sighed. “You’d be turning heads if you just cleaned up a little.”

Bronze tried his hardest not to scowl too badly. “Turning heads is the last thing I want to be doing.”

Bronze finished putting his lunch away and stalked out of the break room, hoping that Clarence would take the hint.

He didn’t.

“Aren’t you lonely?”

Not lonely enough. Bronze scowled.

“I’ll bet if you got a haircut, you’d be a real lady killer. They’d be dropping like flies!”

Bronze grimaced. “As appealing as that sounds, I’m quite attached to my current hairstyle.”

“But it’s a mullet, Bronze! This isn’t the eighties!” Clarence griped from behind him.

Bronze sighed. He passed by Esmeralda at the front desk, Clarence still trailing behind him like a lost puppy. She glanced up, raised an eyebrow at the two of them, then returned to her work.

Bronze smiled. Good old Esmeralda. See, Clarence could learn a thing or two from her. She never bothered people early in the morning. Never mind the fact that most people don’t consider nine am to be early. Bronze did, and really, who else’s opinion would he care about?

Clarence had just started yapping about some other area of improvement for Bronze when Nancy poked her head out of the office.

“Bronze! Go help Deacon with the return cart. And Clarence! Stop bothering him. You have boxes to unload.”

Clarence let out an exaggerated sigh and trudged off. “Uuuuggghhh fineeee.”

Bronze nearly pumped his fist in the air in excitement. That would expend far too much energy, though, so instead, Bronze shot her a thumbs up. Nancy didn’t often take his side. He would have to treasure this moment. Maybe he’d write about it in his diary. Tom was always going on about how journaling was ‘good for the soul’ or something along those lines.

Where was Tom, anyway? Bronze hadn’t seen him yet. Maybe he was napping in the non-fiction again. Classic Tom. Maybe Bronze would join him.

Bronze wandered off to find Deacon and the return cart. Hopefully, there wouldn't be too many books, and Deacon would be able to handle the whole thing. With how slow they’d been lately, Bronze was decently sure of it.

He finally found Deacon putting books away in the romance section. Typical. Bronze would bet good money that half of those books were ones Deacon himself had checked out.

Deacon turned as he heard Bronze approaching and flashed him a smile. He was wearing another one of his knit sweater vests today, the one with the ducklings walking along the bottom hem.

If Bronze was being honest with himself, it was pretty adorable. Not that Deacon needed to hear it, though. It seemed as though someone tried to ask him out at least once a week. The young ladies of the town practically had to get in line to have a shot at him.

Whether Deacon wasn’t interested or if he was just too stupid to detect flirting was anyone's guess.

Bronze leaned toward stupid.

The rest of them had actually started a bet about it. Clarence thought that Deacon already had a girlfriend and just decided to pretend not to notice all the flirting. Nancy also thought he was too stupid to realize when someone was interested. Tom insisted that Deacon was queer and just in the closet, and wouldn’t that be nice, but Bronze highly doubted it. Esmeralda thought that the bet was stupid and didn’t want to make assumptions about Deacon’s love life (or lack thereof).

Once again, Esmeralda proved herself to be the best coworker. Bronze had to admit he was a little ashamed that he had gotten so invested in the bet, but he couldn’t back out now. Whoever lost had to be in charge of story time and the kids’ puppet shows for three months. Now, as much as Bronze loved the children (and his chicken puppet, Terrence), he would rather not make a fool of himself in front of the parents more than he had to.

Bronze shook himself out of his thoughts as he sidled up to where Deacon was rifling through the cart for any books he had missed in this section.

“Where’s Tom?” Bronze asked.

“Hmm?” Deacon was still absentmindedly sorting through the cart. “Oh, didn’t you read the group chat this morning? He’s sick.”

Ah. Well, that would do it. “That’s a shame,” Bronze said, folding his arms and leaning against the nearest bookshelf.

“Yeah. The others are going to drop off a care package for him after work today.”

“Not you?” Bronze asked, quirking an eyebrow. Deacon was usually roped into those things as well.

“Well, hopefully not. I do not want to catch whatever it is he’s got. I’m still trying to think of an excuse not to go. You know how Nancy is; she won’t just take no for an answer.”

Bronze nodded. Nancy had done that to him once. He’d almost resorted to coughing in her face to get her to leave.

“You know she’s going to try to get you to go too, right?” Deacon said, reshelving a book right next to Bronze’s head.

Bronze thought for a moment. He usually didn’t have any trouble getting himself out of Nancy’s plans, but Deacon would be a little trickier. He basically had no backbone when it came to standing up for himself.

Not that it was Bronze’s responsibility to help Deacon avoid the outing, but, well, why not try to do something nice? Payback for Deacon doing most of Bronze’s work.

He’d have to think of an excuse that would work for both of them…

🍎🍎🍎

That evening, at five pm, Nancy began to round up her victims. She tapped her fountain pen against her clipboard thoughtfully, and each beat echoed through the hearts of the poor librarians mourning the loss of their free time.

“Alright,” she cleared her throat, “Esmeralda, you bring some soup for him; whichever kind you think he likes best. Clarence, get some cold medicine just in case he doesn’t have enough. Deacon, you–”

“Sorry, everyone, this one’s all mine tonight,” Bronze interrupted, wrapping both of his arms around one of Deacon’s.

“Pardon?” Nancy blinked. Everyone else stared at them as well.

Deacon’s face was beet red, but he managed to stammer out, “We have a, uhm. A d-date. Tonight.”

Hmmm. Not the best actor. We might have to work on that, Bronze thought.

Nancy floundered a bit before regaining her bearings. “A… date? You two? Well, um, have fun, I suppose.”

“Damn, Tom’s gonna be insufferable when he finds out,” Clarence groaned.

The three of them walked out, Esmeralda with a simple, “Goodbye.”

Deacon pulled himself out of Bronze’s grasp and buried his face in his hands. “God, that was mortifying.”

“But,” Bronze pointed out, “it worked. And now we have a perfect excuse to get us out of any of Nancy’s future outings. It’s brilliant.”

Deacon sighed. “Yes, I guess it is… still, though, dating?”

“Well, you didn’t come up with anything better,” Bronze shrugged. As he walked away, he called back to a still embarrassed Deacon, “Make sure you write today into your calendar as our anniversary!”

Deacon choked on his spit, his blush returning in full force. “BRONZE!”

Bronze didn’t look back, but he did chuckle softly at the mental image of Deacon clutching his non-existent pearls.

This would be fun. Maybe not for Deacon, but Bronze was certainly enjoying himself.

Chapter 2

Summary:

Bronze dresses up for the next day of work, and everyone is really normal about it. Especially Deacon.

The next morning was Saturday, so Nancy and Esmeralda had the day off. Tom was on the schedule, but Bronze doubted he’d have recovered enough to come back to work. That meant it would be him, Deacon, Clarence, and the new hire, Aspen.

They hadn’t spoken much; Nancy didn’t trust him to train people anymore, so they hadn’t had much opportunity to get to know each other. Aspen seemed cool enough, though. They probably wouldn’t bother him too badly. That just left Clarence on the ‘avoid at all costs’ list.

Bronze chewed his eggs thoughtfully. He had a decent amount of energy this morning; maybe he should dress up a little. His hoodie needed to be washed, and it wouldn't hurt to look a little more put together in front of the parents. The library had a couple of storytimes and puppet shows scheduled because it was the weekend, and Bronze was ninety-five percent sure the others would make him do all of them. He had no idea why everyone was so against them. It was embarrassing sometimes, sure, but it got him out of other, more tedious work tasks.

Plus, the kids always loved it when Terrence read them picture books. At least some people appreciated Terrence’s comedic genius and voice impressions.

After showering, Bronze decided to leave his hair unbraided, letting the natural curls cascade down his neck and onto his shoulders.

Hair dealt with— or un-dealt with in this case— Bronze moved on to his closet. His first instinct was to reach for his hoodie, but he had already put it in his laundry hamper last night.

What else do I even own? Bronze thought, rummaging through the hangers.

His hand settled on a red button-up. It was the one Silver had made for him for his birthday a couple of years ago. The torso and collar were plain red, but the sleeves were yellow, with teardrop-shaped black dots arranged in a circle around the arm. She’d presented it to him with a smile on her face bigger than the shirt itself.

“It’s an apple shirt!” She had exclaimed, practically bouncing up and down.

That same year, Violet had embroidered apples onto his favorite pair of jeans, two on the back pockets, and then some floating around the flared calves of the pants.

You mention liking a food once and suddenly it’s your entire personality. He did like the clothes very much, but you can only receive so many apple related items before you start to suspect that they don’t even know you like chickens as well. Bronze shook his head. Where was his chicken themed shirt, huh?

He pulled the jeans on then tucked the shirt into them. Well, if I’m going to be apple themed today I might as well go all out. Bronze dug through one of his drawers for the apple belt buckle that Goldie had given him, then put in the apple stud earrings that Nox had bought for him.

“I don’t suppose I have any apple themed socks, do I?” Bronze chuckled to himself. He opened his sock drawer, and, much to his surprise (although at this point he really should have expected this), saw a pair of yellow socks with apples pasted all over them. Oh, that’s right, he thought, Rose gave me these.

Since Bronze was already going to stand out like a sore thumb, he decided to wear his block heel boots today as well. They went well with the jeans.

Bronze stepped back and looked at himself in his wall mirror, biting back a laugh. He looked like that one pony from the cartoon his little siblings had liked to watch. Well, there were worse ponies to look like. Bronze finished getting ready for work.

🍎🍎🍎

Bronze had walked a little faster than usual today, so he arrived at the library a couple of minutes before it opened. He tried not to be too disappointed in himself.

Everyone was still in the break room gossiping, so there would be no avoiding Clarence if he wanted to put his lunch in the fridge today. Bronze sighed, then opened the door.

Immediately, all eyes in the room turned to him. Clarence dropped his phone on the table, and Deacon started choking on his coffee. Aspen nodded approvingly. He knew he liked them.

Surprisingly, Tom was also there. The older man was sitting on the counter next to the sink. Bronze was always surprised at how spry he was for being in his fifties.

“What happened to being sick?” Bronze asked as he walked past the older man to get to the refrigerator.

“Oh, I wasn’t sick. I just wanted the day off,” Tom explained, shrugging casually.

“Oh, man, you two should have been there! Nancy ‘bout blew her top off screaming at him!” Clarence exclaimed. “Oh, that reminds me, how was your guys’ date that night? Hopefully a bit more enjoyable than watching Tom get lectured, eh?” He said, elbowing Deacon suggestively. Deacon’s face reddened.

Tom perked up. “Date? What date?”

“Bronze and Deacon didn’t come with the rest of us last night because they were on a date,” Clarence explained.

“Then that means,” Tom said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, “that I win the bet!” He hopped off the counter and started doing the Charleston.

“Wait, no, that…” Clarence dropped his phone again in realization. “NOOO, Tom whyyyyy?”

“HA!” Tom boasted, pointing and laughing at Clarence. “You have to be in charge of storytime for… what did we say? A month? I don’t remember, but it doesn’t matter because I don’t have to do it!” He said, pumping his fists in the air as he left the breakroom.

“There was a bet, and you guys didn’t tell me? I would have killed to get in on that!” Aspen complained.

Deacon’s brain finally caught up with him. “Wait, you guys were betting on me and Bronze going on a date???”

“No, no, Bronze wasn’t part of the bet. He was actually in on it, too!” Clarence explained.

Deacon whirled around in his chair to glare at Bronze. “Care to explain?”

Bronze shrugged. “Sure. I bet that you can’t tell when someone is flirting with you, which is true. I had to ask you very directly.”

Deacon spluttered, then turned back to Clarence. “And what about you?? What did you bet?”

Clarence rubbed the back of his neck. He at least had the decency to look ashamed under Deacon’s glare. “Well, I feel silly for it now, but I bet that you had a secret girlfriend and always acted oblivious to people flirting with you because you were already taken.”

“If it matters, which it doesn’t because nobody thought to include me,” Aspen piped up, “I would have bet that you were just aroace and weren’t interested in any of them.”

“Sorry, Aspen, we started the bet before you were hired.” Bronze apologized.

“I guess we just never brought it up while you were around,” Clarence mused.

“Whatever,” they said, leaving the breakroom.

“Wait, but… wouldn’t people have had to have been flirting with me for this bet to get started?” Deacon asked.

“Exactly,” Bronze smirked, leaning against the counter. “I win.”

“Yeah, laugh it up.” Clarence shot Bronze a dirty look. To Deacon, he said, “dude, do you really not notice when people ask for your help specifically in the romance section?”

“I thought they just wanted recommendations!” Deacon buried his head in his hands. “Hold on… Tom ‘won’ the bet. What did he say about me?”

“Oh, he bet that you were a closeted queer dude,” Clarence shrugged nonchalantly.

Deacon jolted upright. “What?? B-but I’m— I’m not!”

“Well, duh!” Clarence rolled his eyes. “Obviously you’re not closeted anymore,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He checked his watch. “Well, we should probably actually start working now. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone for a minute, but if I come in here for lunch later and you’re still in here making out, I’m going to file a complaint with HR.”

Clarence left, and Deacon buried his face in his hands again. Bronze patted him on the back. “Relax, I won’t kiss you unless you ask me to.” He winked, and Deacon’s blush returned.

With that, Bronze also left the break room. As he went, Deacon noticed the apple designs on his back pockets. His blush worsened, and Deacon dropped his head onto the table as he realized he had been staring at Bronze’s ass.

This isn’t fair, he thought morosely, head still on the table, hoping the cool surface would soothe the raging heat underneath his skin. He’s going to be the death of me.

Notes:

*sigh* this is so stupid

anyway

Chapter 3

Summary:

Bronze makes a deal, and Deacon is heckled by an old man.

The door to the breakroom closed behind Bronze, and as he walked away, it occurred to him that it had just been the two of them in there; there was no reason for him to flirt with Deacon. Performative flirting and minor pda had been part of their agreement, but only on a case-by-case basis if the situation demanded it.

The situation just so happened to be that Bronze felt like it. After all, teasing Deacon for the sake of teasing Deacon is all the rationale that one needs. He blushes so intensely, Bronze thought idly. I wonder if I could make his whole face red? I bet I could. He seems a bit more receptive to my flirting than anyone else’s.

Bronze grinned. He’d have to test that one of these days. Purely just to see if he could. No other reason.

Bronze was just about to check the whiteboard to see what he was supposed to be doing when he caught sight of Clarence sullenly pulling out the mats and pillows for the library’s story time.

A plan formed in Bronze’s mind. He sidled up to the sulking man and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

Clarence jumped. “Jesus, Bronze. Warn a guy, will ya?” He looked to the side, then up as he was reminded that Bronze was wearing heels. Now, Clarence would never be one to call himself short per se, but with those heels on, Bronze towered over him. More than usual.

Bronze had that stupid smug look on his face. Of course he did. He was practically draping himself all over Clarence, his sharp green eyes staring into brown.

“Did you come here to gloat? Because if so, I’m going to file a restraining order.”

Bronze didn’t respond to the mock threat. “I have a deal for you,” he said instead.

Clarence’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

Bronze smiled. “I’ll take over all the story times and puppet shows if you do me a teensy little favor.”

Clarence sensed a trap incoming. Bronze? Offer to actually work? Something smelled fishy in the library, and it wasn’t just the tilapia that he had packed for lunch.

“What favor?"

“I want you," Bronze began, "to get me a reservation at your parents' restaurant."

Clarence eyed him. "You hate eating out."

"I do. But Deacon doesn't. I want to take him somewhere nice."

"I see how it is." Clarence folded his arms in a pout. "You'll go out for Deacon's sake, but every time I invite you out it's 'oh I'm too busy,' 'I don't like the crowds,' 'it's too expensive.'"

"Well, if you'd rather spend the rest of the month reading picture books to toddlers, I understand."

"Now hold on! I didn't say I wouldn't do it."

Bronze straightened up and patted Clarence on the back. "Good man."

"On one condition!"

Bronze raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"You've grievously wounded me, Bronze," Clarence said, putting his hand up to his forehead for dramatic effect. "You have to come to the farmer's market with me to make up for it."

Bronze weighed his options. Clarence had been begging Bronze to go with him for months. Why he insisted on having the company of an apple-themed sourpuss was beyond Bronze, but he did really want that reservation…

"Fine, but you have to buy me something from the market while we're there."

"Deal!" Clarence enthusiastically shook Bronze's hand.

Aspen poked their head into the room indignantly. "HEY! Am I the only one doing any work today?"

"Oh, shove off. We're conducting important business negotiations!" Clarence joked.

Aspen rolled their eyes, ducking back behind the corner.

Bronze left Clarence to finish arranging the mats while he rummaged through the supply closet for his box of puppets. There on the top was his favorite one: a chicken he lovingly named Terrence.

He pulled it out, and Clarence groaned exaggeratedly. "It's story time, not a puppet show, Bronze. Put it back."

Bronze cleared his throat expectantly, looking between Clarence and Terrence.

"For the love of— put 'Terrence' back."

"No," Terrence said. "The kids like me, and I like reading to them."

Clarence flinched back. "Cut that out. It's freaky."

Bronze grinned. His siblings had all laughed when he wanted to learn ventriloquism, but who was laughing now? Terrence, that's who. The chicken clucked out a laugh and inched closer to Clarence, who put up his hands in a mock karate pose in defense.

Aspen walked back into the room with a stack of books. "Do I even want to know what's happening here?"

"Aspen! Terrence is terrorizing me! Do something!" Clarence moved to hide behind the albino, peeking over their shoulder to glare at the puppet.

"And who is Terrence?" They asked.

"I am," Terrence said.

"Oh, what the fuck? How did you do that?"

Bronze and Terrence turned to look at each other. "Well?" Bronze asked. "How did you do that? You don't have any vocal cords."

"Vocal cords are for the weak-willed," Terrence answered. He turned back toward Aspen and the cowering Clarence. "Are those the books for today?"

"…yes. Um. Here you go… Terrence."

Terrence grabbed the books with his mouth, then handed them to Bronze's free hand. The puppet's face scrunched. "Paper is disgusting."

"You could have just asked me to grab them for you in the first place," Bronze reminded him.

"You should have offered before I had to taste them! Now take me to the rocking chair; the children will arrive any moment."

Bronze took the books and went to finish setting up the stage, leaving a baffled Aspen and exasperated Clarence behind.

🍎🍎🍎

Deacon sat at the front desk, willing himself to think about anything other than Bronze and his… interesting outfit. It looked great on him; anyone with eyes could see that, but Deacon found himself daydreaming about it a little too often for his tastes. Why did Bronze have to be so good at getting in his head all the time?

He clicked mindlessly around the screen, silently begging for someone to come in and ask him for help or something. Anything to get his mind off his 'boyfriend.'

"Sooooo… Deacon." Tom leaned over the counter, putting his chin in his hands. Deacon could have kicked himself. Well, it was a distraction, he supposed. Not quite what he had been hoping for, but Deacon would try to make the best of it.

Deacon sighed. "What is it, Tom?"

"Oh, you know. Just looking for a little gossip. How long have you been dating? Was yesterday your first one? Where was your date? Will there be a second?"

Deacon's expression flattened even further. "I'm not going to gossip about my own love life with you, Tom."

"Come onnnn," Tom whined, slumping onto the countertop further. "Now that the bet is over, I need something to entertain myself."

Deacon rolled his eyes. "Not my problem. Go bug Bronze about it if you're so interested."

"Pleaseeee?" Tom did his best impression of doe eyes, which was honestly a little creepy coming from a fifty-year-old man. Deacon shivered.

"If I tell you, will you leave me alone?"

Tom stood up and puffed his chest out. "But of course! I am nothing if not a man of my word."

Good lord… a little full of himself, isn't he?

"We've been dating for one day, that was our first date, it was at a coffee shop, and I haven't decided on whether we'll go out again. Now shoo. I'm working." Deacon waved him off, and Tom huffed.

"Sure you are. I bet if I turn this screen around, I'm gonna see you playing minesweeper and getting no work done."

Deacon looked away. He had just opened minesweeper. Not that it was any of Tom's business what games he played. Or, for that matter, who Deacon dated. Not dated. Shoot, Deacon was getting a little too caught up in his lies. Maybe this whole 'pretend dating' thing wasn't the best idea. He should probably talk to Bronze about it.

The thought of breaking up with Bronze made his stomach turn. Wait, it wouldn't be a breakup, they weren't even dating! It would just be a mature conversation between coworkers about not pretending to be dating anymore. Yeah! That wouldn't be so hard, would it?