Author's Note: All I have to say is: I had to do it.

Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are property of Himaruya. The books mentioned are property of their respective authors.

~X~

It had all started off as a normal Sunday. Francis had gone to visit his cousin, Matthew, like he typically did every few weeks. Of course, choosing the middle of the semester to visit was apparently a bit of a mistake.

"How's the extra reading going?" Francis asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

Matthew shrugged, brushing a few strands of dark blond hair from his eyes. "I'm supposed to be getting the book today," he answered.

A small smile teased the corner of his lips. Knowing Matthew that meant he likely wouldn't even be seeing the book for another week. He was the epitome of bad luck. "And when is it due?"

The Canadian almost smirked. "Tomorrow."

Francis chuckled. "How very like you," he complimented. "Do you know enough to fake your way through the discussion, at least? You know a good GPA means good pay. I'd hate for you to end up homeless because you didn't read the book."

"Well…"

Before Matthew could answer properly, there was a soft knock at the door. Almost languidly, Matthew stood up to answer it. There was always a certain understated grace with the way he moved, Francis noted with satisfaction.

"Your timing is as perfect as ever," he commented to whoever was on the other side.

The Frenchman glanced over to see a young man with messy blond hair and horrendously thick eyebrows reach into his bag and hand a book to Francis' cousin.

"Yours is still terrible," the man remarked with a heavy English accent. "I'm assuming you need to read this by tomorrow, correct?"

"Eh…" Matthew chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Apparently, he was unwilling to admit it to this strange Englishman.

"Thought so. Be especially careful with this one; he's a rare edition." The man pulled out a sheet of paper, making a quick mark on it before sliding it back into his backpack.

Matthew smiled gratefully. "You're a lifesaver. Thanks for getting it here so quick."

The stranger nodded before turning to leave. "Call me when you're finished with him," he said before walking away without a proper 'goodbye'.

Matthew closed the door, sighing with relief. "I swear, if that guy wasn't around, I'd be a goner," he muttered to himself as he made his way back to Francis.

The Frenchman quirked a brow in confusion. People rarely visited Matthew. And he gave him a book, of all things? "And who is he?"

The Canadian student snickered. "We just call him the Librarian. Supposedly he's ridiculously rich, and spends all his money on books that he just lends out to people. Hell, I don't even know his name and he's entrusting me with this supposedly rare book. He's a bit of a nut job, you know?"

Francis scrutinized the spine. "It looks old, so it's possible… Why are you reading 'Things Fall Apart'?"

"Something about African literature. I don't know." Matthew shrugged and began to page through the worn book. "It's for that Modern Lit class. That's why a lot of us go to him; the previous readers all leave notes, so I can definitely fake it through a discussion without actually having to read it."

Francis held out a hand. "May I?"

Easily, Matt handed it over. "Just be careful," he warned. "Any damage and I'll have to find another copy of this exact book. Michelle accidentally spilled coffee on one of his 'Lord of the Flies' copies, and she ended up spending fifty bucks on a 1958 edition."

Carefully, Francis began to flip through, noting the amount of pencil markings. Sometimes, it was a handful of comments in the margins, but most often it was the underlining of a series of phrases. He could see how this would be the perfect way to fool the system, providing the previous readers were intelligent.

With a faint smile, he handed it back to his cousin. "Please tell me you aren't turning into your step-brother," he mock-begged. "I don't know if I could live with two of you."

Matthew laughed quietly. "I'm just doing the bs thing for the discussion. I'm going to actually read it when I have to do the book review."

"And when is that due?" Francis asked.

The bespectacled blond flashed him a smile. "Two days."

Francis toasted him with the coffee mug. "You, my dear, are truly the face of our future."

Matthew's grin widened. "Maybe you should give him a call. I think I have the number somewhere…"

The Frenchman quirked a brow. "And why would I want to call this crazy Librarian? I have plenty of books at home."

"You have too many books," Matthew corrected to himself before pulling a scrap of paper from his pocket. "But knowing you… I think you'd like what he has. You're into all of that reading between the lines crap, and his books usually have more of that than I actually thought possible."

Francis gasped, faux-scandalized. "Too many books? Impossible."

He rolled his eyes, passing the paper to the older blond. "Why you didn't become a writer, I will never understand," Matthew muttered under his breath.

After a moment's hesitation, Francis accepted it. Though, he was unable to admit the reason he never became a writer. Even to his dear cousin.

~X~

It took a few days for Francis to convince himself to call. To be honest, the whole idea sounded completely ridiculous. Besides, he had an entire shelf full of books he had yet to finish. And yet…

He drummed his fingers against the windowsill as he waited for the other line to be answered. Five rings, he promised himself. If no one answered within five rings, he would hang up and pretend he never called.

Only three rings in, and the phone was answered.

"Hello, you've reached the Library. How can I help you?"

Francis completely froze for a moment, before registering that the mysterious Librarian had spoken. He sounded almost breathless, Francis noted with surprise. "Ah, hello," he replied meekly.

"What do you need?" the Brit on the other line asked.

That was certainly an odd question, Francis thought. Not what do you want, but what do you need. A subtle difference, but a key one. "Something grand," he replied, keeping it vague. Besides, who didn't want something that was wonderful? It was common sense.

The other man hummed in thought. "That's more than a little hazy."

Francis started rapping his fingertips against the windowsill again. "I don't know what you have. It's difficult to be specific when you don't know what the possibilities are."

The other man laughed. "I have everything," he promised. "Well, almost everything," he corrected, slightly abashed. "You want grand… A classic, perhaps? Or do you have a more contemporary taste? I know I have a few fantastic history volumes lying around."

Francis' brow furrowed slightly, a bit overwhelmed. "Is there anything in particular you recommend?" After all, you could tell a lot about a person by the books they liked. Obviously this one couldn't be judged simply by the books they owned.

The Brit paused for a moment, likely thinking. "Me… I liked 'Brave New World'. Aldous Huxley. Classic dystopia, very unhappy ending, in the surface sense. I found it a lovely read."

"Dystopias never end happily," he contradicted absentmindedly.

"Not at their shallow level, at least. Well, with the faint exception of 'Lord of the Flies'. The shallow ending of that was rather fortunate."

Francis grimaced. "With that perspective, you could say that about '1984'," he argued.

"'1984'?" the Librarian repeated, astonished. "Are you kidding me? There was nothing even remotely happy about that book!"

"He loved Julia," he insisted stubbornly. Really, he knew the Brit was right. But that wasn't going to stop him from debating his point.

"Winston merely lusted after her," he dismissed. "Lust never lasts; that's why he broke."

Francis scoffed. "Anyone would break after that."

"Do you want a book or not?" the stranger on the phone finally snapped. "I could argue with you all day about this—and you know I'm right—but I have deliveries to make."

The Frenchman almost deflated at that. He had been almost enjoying their banter. It was difficult to debate dystopia when one of your best friends would rather read straight history, and the other read nearly nothing but sappy romance. "'Brave New World', then," he agreed.

"Name and address?"

Francis paused. "Why?" he asked skeptically.

"So I know where to bring the book, smartass," he said. "I can get it to you tonight, but I need to know where I'm supposed to take it."

For a moment, he didn't respond. Was he really about to trust some stranger with where he lived? And for what, some book he could pick up from the public library? It seemed rather stupid.

But exciting. Having a book personally delivered to him… Likely a well-cared for book, though heavily used… It was tempting.

Quickly, he rattled off the requested information before the Englishman thanked him, and promptly hung up.

Francis looked at the phone for a few more seconds before returning it to the cradle. He had the feeling that Matthew was going to be right about this Librarian character.