Work Text:
Inside the Burgess Library, it was quiet, mostly. There was a window open to catch the growing spring warmth. There were some girls outside playing jump-rope, and Jack kept catching snatches of their song.
“No dream, no hope, nothing left to be...”
“Mr. Frost, this library is not the sort of place normally accustomed to the temperatures you’re used to.”
Jack spun to come face-to...well, nose, with a stern-looking woman dressed in severe black. “Mr. Frost?”
“I...” Jack stared up at the woman, uncertain how to start. “You can see me.”
“I can see you’re in desperate need of a library,” the woman - the librarian - said. “I make it my business to notice patrons...and troublemakers.”
“What? No!” Jack waved his book at the librarian. “I was looking stuff up!”
She tilted her head at the cover, frowning thoughtfully. “Taking up rabbit farming? I’m not certain your Guardian friend would appreciate that.”
Jack gaped at her. She sounded so...matter-of-fact about magic and the Guardians, as if she knew all about it. But she was a grown-up, who never saw Guardians, or any other spirit.
The woman glanced at Jack and sighed. “You’re sitting here wondering how I can see you. Seeing what is really there is a woefully underdeveloped skill among most people. One I find useful in guardianship, teaching, and running a library. You’d be amazed what sort of pests turn up here.”
Jack wondered if he was to be included among the pests. “Still. You’re not going to get very far with your Pooka friend reading about rabbit mating habits. He’s not an animal any more than you are.”
Jack felt his cheeks heat. “I’m not-”
“Can we please skip over the argument where you’ll eventually admit you’re attracted to Aster?” the woman asked. “Running a library takes a lot more work than most people assume, and I do have things I need to do when I’m done helping you.”
“Well...fine. Yeah. But I didn’t want to go at him like a human would.”
Something in the librarian’s gaze softened. “Setting aside the practical considerations, that’s actually sweet. But you’d be better off with a book about Pooka culture than a book about breeding rabbits, which if anything is only a practical guide, and frankly I’ve found people mostly work that bit out on their own.”
With those words, as mortifying as having your grandmother walk in on you during some private time, the librarian vanished behind one of the stacks. Jack stared after her, feeling a strange combination of confusion, embarrassment, and...well, a bit of respect. There was a sharp mind behind that prim exterior, and a sense of humor, and...well, the sort of sense of duty Jack saw in the other Guardians.
“Here we go. You will not believe the amount of imperialist, specieist fabrications I had to dig through to find this. It’s a fairly dry read, but accurate.” The librarian reappeared, handing Jack a faded, worn tome. He accepted it mutely. The librarian snorted. “Are you going to be reading this here or would you like to loan it?”
“I...don’t have a library card.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I can get you a card.” And she did. Jack supposed whoever she was (and asking seemed...impolite), she dealt with the Guardians, at least a little bit. “Now, I’m certain this goes without saying, but you should return this book by the day stamped inside. In pristine condition.”
“Who are you?” Jack demanded, finally unable to take the suspense. “Are you a Guardian?”
“Of a sort,” she replied with a small smile. “Not one of Lunanoff’s. Now go on, Jack Frost. You’ve got things to do. As do I.”
With that unsubtle command, Jack left the library, book tucked under his arm.
And yes, the first parts he read were about Pooka romantic traditions. But he read the rest of it (and suspected the librarian had known that). He’d wanted to know how to woo Bunny (even though he was certain no one used that word anymore), but found out more about his Pooka companion than he’d ever imagined. A whole world, a whole race, that Aster’d been a part of before the end of the Golden Age.
But it also taught him how to court the Pooka, how to propose (although, even knowing what he was contemplating, that still made him blush), how to make a home. He traced his finger along the descriptions of Warren homes, feeling the loss of the Pooka nearly as keenly as Aster might. To never be able to share this with Bunny, except in books and stories, seemed monstrously unfair.
He’d have to make all that loss worth it, then, he resolved. Be something worth those eons of suffering for.
All in the name of love.