Bibliophilia
oneiriad

Disclaimer: Vikings does not belong to me. I'm just playing.
A/N: written for anonymous, who asked for: "Ecbert/Athelstan, librarian/avid reader au"

He's young enough to be your son, he tells himself. Sometimes. Mostly on the days after he's had dinner with Aethelwulf and Judith. You should be ashamed of yourself, you dirty old man.

It's just - whenever Athelstan walks through the doors of the library, it's as if the sun's come out.

Even when he's in the company of one of those friends of his, most of them from the local viking reenactment group. But it's better when the young man comes alone, when he has time to stay and chat, gush about whatever book or author he's currently devouring and listen to Ecbert's suggestions, before wandering off with a pile of fresh supplies.

Lately, Athelstan's taken to taking fewer books home at a time - sometimes just one - meaning he comes back more often, sometimes several times a week. Ecbert is trying not to read anything into that - nor into the fact that Athelstan has stopped bringing friends along and has taken to avoiding the times when he knows the library will be crowded and time for chatting scarce.

He's trying very hard not to read anything into that.

But then there's today and Athelstan is back, returning a Discworld novel and a Norwegian viking novel Ecbert had to ILL for him ("It's vikings! In Africa! How is that not cool?"), and Ecbert brings out the book that's been waiting patiently on the shelf under the desk for three days, because it simply wouldn't do for anybody else to check it out first.

Athelstan's squeal at the sight of his favourite author's newest novel makes Ecbert change his mind. Now this - this is as if the sun's come out.

"Listen, are you doing anything this weekend? It's just - some friends of mine are getting married and they're having this great, big viking party, and I was wondering, well, if - would you like to go? With me?"

"As in a date?" he asks, and the young man blushes and looks down, but he's also nodding and saying: "Yeah, a date. That is - if you want it to be? I mean, if you don't, we could go as friends, that be totally…"

"I'd like that. For it to be a date," he adds, turning the dawning disappointment in the other man's eyes into a wide smile.

"That's great. Good. Oh, just one thing - you're going to have to be in costume. Everybody's going be dressed to fit the theme."

"Ah. Well, maybe we can discuss that over coffee? Tomorrow?"

He's young enough to be your son, he tells himself - but frankly, who cares?