A/N- Alright, it's another fluff fic! Ami as a librarian, isn't it fun? Anyway, have fun reading this, and I would love to know if anyone wanted me to write little fluffs about any of the other pairings. I love reviewers!

Disclaimer: I may be Japanese, but I still don't own Sailor Moon. And the poetryish bits are also not mine, but Milton, even though I prefer Blake. Shhh! Don't tell!

He came every Sunday. It was always the same; he'd come in, head for the classics section, select a book, then return to sit in one of the leather chairs across from her desk. He made a pretty picture there, she admitted to herself reluctantly. With his strawberry-blond curls and customary sweater, Zane Green looked like a model cum philosophy teacher. Ami breathed in, the library redolent with the familiar scents of books and leather, then let the breath out with a sigh.

He'd been coming for about three months now, and every Sunday she waited anxiously, worried that he wouldn't come in that day, that she would never see him again. Ami wrinkled her nose, somewhat dismayed that his appearance had come to mean so much to her. She shuffled her books around, feeling listless. Who was she kidding, after all? Why would such a man even glance at a little, mousy librarian anyway? She wrinkled her nose again, and rose to go reshelf the stack of books she was playing with, never noticing the green eyes that lifted from his page to follow her.

Ami hummed softly to herself as she pattered among the bookshelves, happy and in her element now that she was away from the picturesque scene in front of her desk. A hand lifted and adjusted her glasses as they slipped precariously on her small nose, leaving a smear of dust. She absently wiped that same hand on her navy slacks, another smudge of grey to add to the collection. The next book to be shelved was one of her favourites, a collection of Milton. A smile touched her lips as passed a hand over the cover, the binding under her fingers comforting. She flipped it open, thumbing through it to page one-thirty-eight, part of Comus. Her eyes trailed down to the song contained there, and the smile that curved her lips grew. The little blue-eyed librarian murmured the words softly, the lovely image emblazoned in her mind's eye.

"Sabrina fair,
Listen where thou art sitting
Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,
In twisted braids of lilies knitting
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;
Listen for dear honour's sake,
Goddess of the silver lake,
Listen and save."

For some reason, she'd always loved that little bit. Something about it always made her wistfully dreamy. She closed the book gently, and went to place it on the shelf in its proper place when she was startled by a touch on her shoulder. Eyes wide, she twisted, book still suspended above the shelf, and stared at the man behind her.

His eyes were soft, the same green as new leaves, as he looked at her. She was briefly fascinated by the dimples at the corners of his upturned mouth, but her attention was snapped back to his eyes as he spoke. "Please…don't put it back yet. Can't you read something more? You have a lovely voice," His hand was still on her shoulder, warm through the thin material of her white silk blouse.

She blinked at him, stunned, and stammered out, "W-well, I don't normally read to the patrons here, but we have a poetry reading every Monday night if you want to come listen…" She was far too aware of the feel of his fingers as they brushed over her shirt, the fabric much too thin to give her any comfort. She shivered. This wasn't a daydream…

He took the book from her smoothly, and it took all she had not to shy away from him as he leaned over her, eyes intense as they gazed raptly over her. She could now feel the heat of him against her back as he wrapped his arms around her to grip the volume. He'd opened the book to another familiar page. "I'd rather listen to you. Can you read this for me? Please?" She quivered as he murmured the request right into her ear, his breath feathering her lapis locks. Her eyes fell to the black letters on the creamy page.

"I…suppose…" She offered hesitantly, oddly unwilling to refuse him. She cleared her throat and read, her voice low and sweet.

"Now the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger,

Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her
The Flowry May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow Cowslip, and the pale Primrose.

Hail bounteous May that dost inspire

Mirth and youth, and warm desire,

Woods and Groves, are of thy dressing,

Hill and Dale, doth boast thy blessing.

Thus we salute thee with our early Song,

And welcom thee, and wish thee long."

As she read, her hands crept up to steady the tome, pale, slender hands that went over his strong, corded ones. She lost herself in the beautiful language that she loved so well, and slowly she leaned back into the firm chest, her world centered on the script before her. Her voice rose and fell with subtle music, and she didn't notice when he turned the page except to continue her reading, and moved into the sonnet flawlessly.

"O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy Spray

Warbl'st at eeve, when all the Woods are still,

Thou with fresh hope the Lovers heart dost fill,

While the jolly hours lead on propitious May,

Thy liquid notes that close the eye of Day,

First heard before the shallow Cuccoo's bill

Portend success in love; O if Jove's will

Have linkt that amorous power to thy soft lay,
Now timely sing, ere the rude Bird of Hate

Foretell my hopeles doom in som Grove ny:

As thou from yeer to yeer hast sung too late
For my relief; yet hadst no reason why,

Whether the Muse, or Love call thee his mate,

Both them I serve, and of their train am I."

She trailed away with a sigh of pleasure, relaxed in a warm embrace…wait. That was wrong. Her eyes flew open as she realized what exactly she was leaning against. She leapt forward, crashed into the bookcase, and spun around awkwardly amid the books that fluttered down with a multitude of thumps! "Oh no!" She whirled again, hands flying up in horror as she realized the mess she made. She twisted to face the man, dismayed, when she lost her balance and went flying…straight into his arms.

"Whoah! Ah, hold on!" He yelped as he stumbled and caught her, and also careened into the bookcase. He braced himself against the solid wood and hugged her to him for balance. He slowly sank to the ground and sprawled with her half in, half out of his lap. She stared up at him as tears trembled in the corners of her eyes, feeling completely foolish and utterly embarrassed. She'd just opened her mouth to apologize when he tilted her chin up, bottle-green eyes boring into her own cobalt. He frowned in concern and studied her face, then asked, "Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you?"

Her stare turned into a gape. She just brought down half the shelf and he was worried that she was hurt? "I'm fine." She blinked at him and felt a bit dazed. His lap was disturbingly comfortable, and she wondered uneasily if she should stand up.

He derailed her train of thought when he brushed his other hand against her cheek. Her eyes widened, and she blushed. The look on his face was tender and amused. His voice rumbled with laughter when he spoke. "You had a smudge. In fact, you have smudges just about everywhere. That's probably one of the things I like best about you, little librarian." His smile was as warm as his hand had been.

She blushed again. "Ah… Are you okay?"

He nodded, and skimmed his thumb across her nose right under her glasses, then laughed when she wrinkled it in response. "Sorry, you had another smudge, and yes, I'm also fine." He grinned at her unrepentantly. "Well, since we both appear to be fine, and this seems like an opportune moment, how would you feel about dinner?"

She gave him a puzzled look. "What? How do I feel about dinner?" What kind of question was that when they were all but embracing? In all truth, she hadn't really thought about it. She figured she'd just grab something on the way home.

He nodded again, and his grin grew wider. "Yes, how do you feel about dinner, tonight, with me?"

Comprehension dawned. "Oh!" Her cheeks heated. "That sounds…nice." When he gave her a nonplussed look she had to laugh. "Well, it does. In fact, it sounds very nice," she teased him gently, "And I'm glad you asked." She paused. "Is that why you've been hanging around the library so much? To ask me out?"

It was his turn to laugh and flush. "Yes and no. I've wanted to ask you to dinner for a while now, but it never seemed like the right time. However, I do love to read, so I find the library interesting for more reasons than that." His eyes gleamed at her. "Though I must say, it's a good thing I do love to read, otherwise I would never have set eyes on this pretty little librarian." He shifted a bit uncomfortably. "And though I hate to say it, since you're such a delightful lapful, I think it's time to move before this book takes up permanant residence in my spine."

"Oh!" She scrambled to her feet laughing, and offered him a hand, which he took with an exaggerated groan. The book pulled from its lodging in his backbone, she looked at the mess with a certain amount of despair. "Oh… It might be a bit of a late dinner. I have to clean this up before I go."

Before she could do more than stoop to start picking up, he swooped in and snagged a couple volumes. "Tell you what, in the interest of getting you out of here and into a restaurant, I'll help." His green eyes sparkled at her. "Don't worry, I should know my way around the library by now, don't you think?"

She couldn't help it; she laughed.