The book dropped onto the desk with a heavy thud.

Steve couldn't help but jump: the university library was usually dead silent. He hadn't even heard anyone come through the door... but then, he had been engrossed in reading a book. As usual. No matter how many times his supervisor, Nick, told him not to read at the desk, he still found himself flipping through the books that were returned. Tonight was a late shift, which meant Nick wasn't standing over his shoulder. Which meant Steve was reading. On instinct, he shoved his book under the counter and looked up.

The book now on the desk (a desk which Steve had busied himself cleaning before Nick left at five) sat in a puddle. The pages had swelled to twice their normal size, and the corners were bent and curled. Steve stared at the book slack-jawed. He had never seen a book this damaged. Sure, he'd seen damaged books before. Coffee stains. Minor water damage. Highlighting. Ripped pages. University students had no money and they usually took care of the library books so they wouldn't have to pay to replace them - they cost as much as textbooks, if not more.

This particular book - Steve could not even read the title - appeared to have been submerged in a mud puddle. It had been bright and sunny all day.

Finally, Steve peered up at the student who had returned the book.

Flat dark eyes looked back at him. Long brown hair, stubble on his chin. A black hooded sweatshirt with the hood drawn up and a rip in the left shoulder seam.

Steve narrowed his eyes.

"You're going to have to pay for this book, you know," Steve said.

The guy at the counter shrugged.

The indifference nearly made Steve explode. He tried to contain it. "This book probably costs fifty dollars," he said. He didn't want to pick the book up to check the price. "Plus a five dollar processing fee."

"Okay," the guy said.

"What's your name?" Steve demanded, fingers poised over the keyboard.

"Barnes. B-A-R-"

"I got it, thanks." Did this guy really think he wouldn't know how to spell it? "First name?"

"James. It might be under Bucky. That's what I go by, anyway."

Steve typed it in. The account actually had "Bucky" added in quotes with a note that he preferred the nickname. Sure enough, one book was checked out. Steve clicked over to see the title, and his jaw dropped again.

Unbroken. The same book Steve himself was reading.

"Unbelievable," Steve muttered.

He looked at the damaged book again. Beneath the stains and all, he could vaguely make out the same image on the cover from his own copy. "What happened to it?" he asked.

Another shrug. "It got wet."

"It got wet?" The volume of Steve's voice was already too loud, and it only got louder when he repeated, "IT GOT WET?"

Bucky was the one looking startled now. Bucky, and the two students working at computers out in the spacious "Information Commons" area. Now Steve could see that Bucky's eyes were bright blue, not the brown he'd thought they were before.

"Sorry?" Bucky said.

"This," Steve said, gesturing to the book, "is beyond wet. Did you drop it into a sewer? Did you throw it into a puddle and run over it with your car? I can't even imagine having as little regard for literature as you must have to treat a book this way. Even BEYOND the water damage, look!" Steve used a finger to push the book toward Bucky so he could see. "You dog-eared half the pages!"

"I didn't have a bookmark."

"I've seen books returned with bits of toilet paper used as bookmarks," Steve snapped. "I'm sure you could have found something."

Bucky shifted his weight from one foot to the other and glanced at the two students. They immediately looked at their computer screens and scrolled busily.

"People like you disgust me." Steve returned to his own computer to pull up the item record.

"People like me?" Bucky sounded incredulous.

"Yeah. People like you. People who go around ruining library books like it's no big deal. I don't know about you, but I'm here on scholarship. I guess your parents have money, and you think you can just come in here and do whatever you want and buy your way out of trouble-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Bucky said holding up his hands. "You're assuming a lot there."

"Am I?" Steve finally got the item record open. "I have to work here to pay for the books I need for class. Not just some stupid book to read for fun."

"This book isn't stupid," Bucky said. He pried open the cover and flipped the pages. They clumped together and thumped wetly back down on the desk. "I mean, I didn't get to finish it, but it's a really good story-"

Steve felt his cheeks warm up. "I know it isn't stupid. That's not what I meant."

"So you've read it?"

The way Bucky looked at him made his throat close up. "Uh, I, uh, yeah, I mean, I'm reading it. Right now. It is good. Really good. Uh. Yeah." Steve knew his face must be tomato red by now.

Bucky smiled, a lazy grin as he rested one elbow on the desk. "Really? You're reading it right now? What part are you at?"

Helplessly, Steve reached for the copy of the book he'd stashed under the desk and pulled it out. He showed Bucky where his bookmark was, about three-quarters of the way through.

"This must be a pretty sweet job, you can just sit here and read," Bucky said.

It was an innocent enough comment, one Steve had heard many times, but it made Steve's anger surge again. "I don't 'sit here and read' all day," he said, even using air quotes, which was something he hated doing. "I'm not supposed to read on the job, actually."

Bucky laughed. He didn't seem to realize that Steve was mad. "Shirking your duties, then?"

"No!" Steve wished he'd stop giving this guy ways to distract him from the points he was trying to make. "It's just really dead in here tonight. I've already finished all the projects I'm supposed to be working on."

"Suuuure," Bucky said. "You know, I was standing here for like five minutes before I dropped that book on the desk." He was smiling at Steve in the most flustering way.

Steve scrambled to think of a way to explain why he had been sitting at the desk, engrossed in a book, and couldn't. All his brain could comprehend was that Bucky had been standing there watching him for that long. Suddenly Steve couldn't think of what to do with his hands.

"Um, so the cost of the book is 28 dollars," Steve said, "and with the processing charge, the total is 33 dollars."

He glanced up at Bucky.

"I don't have any money on me," Bucky said.

"Okay, um, I guess you can pay it later. But you have to pay it before graduation." Steve busied himself with trying to find a plastic bag to put the damaged book in. After he'd tied it up and stuck it on the shelf behind him for one of the librarians to look at later, he turned to find Bucky still standing there, still watching him. He grabbed some paper towels and spray for the puddle on the counter.

"How about I make it up to you and take you out for coffee after you get off work? You know the student union's coffee is so... so..."

"Disgusting?" Steve supplied.

Bucky laughed and slapped the countertop. "Yes!" He took his elbows off the counter while Steve cleaned up. "There is... I mean, we could always go to the Starbucks off-campus, but I don't have a car."

"I have my bike." When Bucky didn't respond for a few moments, Steve realized his mistake. "It's not a bicycle," he said quickly. "I have a motorcycle. I call it a bike but it's a motorcycle. And I have an extra helmet, too."

"Nice!" Bucky said. "So, when do you get off work?"

"Nine. But, uh, I mean, you still have to pay for the book. Like, I'm not the head librarian, so bribing me with coffee isn't going to, you know-"

"I know." Bucky smiled and set his elbows down on the counter again, and rested his chin on his fists. "I meant, to make it up to you. Because I offended you with my disrespect for library books."

"Oh." Steve glanced away and noted with mild surprise that the two students on the computers were watching and listening with little smiles on their faces, which they quickly hid behind the monitors. He looked down and smiled himself. "Cool."

Later, much later, after Bucky had ridden on the back of Steve's bike holding tight to Steve's waist, and after they'd talked about the book over coffee until the Starbucks closed, and after they'd started spending all their free time together, Steve lay in bed with his arm around Bucky's shoulders and wondered if Bucky had destroyed that library book on purpose, for an excuse to talk to him. The thought made him smile.