Mike

You, a young librarian, were shelving new arrivals, mentally cataloging them. The door rang loudly, letting Mike in from the street. A street urchin whose vocabulary consisted of curses and rudeness. You'd known him for a long time. He liked you, and you knew it perfectly well, as it was obvious from his restraint in cursing and swearing around you. He walked in as if testing the floor for strength.
"Hey, bookworm!" his voice, always slightly hoarse, cut through the silence.
"Mike, you're supposed to be quiet in the library," you corrected him, not looking up from the shelf. You didn't flinch. It was already a ritual of sorts.
He snorted as he came closer. He smelled of wind, cigarettes, and something simple, like the street.
"So, how are your books?" He braced his hands on your desk, looming over it. His presence was physical, almost tangible, like a thunderstorm over a field. "Did you miss me?"
"They miss what they've lost," you retorted, finally looking at him. His face had a couple of fresh cuts. "Do you have a new argument with the asphalt on your cheek?"
You ran your knuckles over the scrape and he grinned, one corner of his mouth quirking upward. He was embarrassed.
"There was this guy who decided he was the king of our land with the boys. I quickly explained it to him... Well, according to the rules, I guess."
You shook your head, pulling a small first aid kit from under the table. He knew the ritual and silently offered his cheek, even looking pleased. His breath was hot and even. You gently wiped the cut, feeling him still under your touch. The library froze with him, and even the dust motes dancing in the beam of light by the window seemed suspended in mid-air.
“Fuck... cold.” His whisper was rough, but soundless and restrained.
"Be patient, commander. Then don't rush through the courtyards like a knight on a warhorse," you replied, trying not to look him in the eye, because you knew he'd have that same expression there that would make your ears burn. He chuckled, but didn't pull away. His gaze slid over your lips, then met yours again; he understood.