Title: Belmont
Pairing(s), Character(s): Slight Mark Cotswold/Porsche
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Very, very, very slight sexual themes.
Summary: Mark finds Porsche crying in the library and offers her some help.
Word Count: 870

Author's Note: This was actually really fun to write. It took a bit of finagling with my headcanon for Mark, but now I kind of want to write more with these two. Preeeetty sure nobody would want to read that, though. Anyway, I love Porsche and here is a fic with her in it.

Mark strolled idly down the aisle of the Psychology section of the Park County Community College library, fingers stroking the worn and threadbare volumes that sat rotting away on the library shelves. They were mostly useless to him, due to their age, but sometimes he liked to look for a cover he didn't recognize nestled between the horribly outdated relics that populated the shelves. It had been months since new books had come in. He had asked. He always liked to look, though, just to be sure.

"Dammit, dammit."

Halting, Mark turned around to see a short girl in an incredibly loud aquamarine sweater staring helplessly at the shelves in front of her. As she kneeled down in what looked like a fit of near-panic, she let out a soft whine, pulling out the largest book she could find. Mark watched as she flipped through the table of contents, then shoved it back onto the shelf before pulling out another one.

Mark couldn't help but feel bad at her struggle—especially considering the fact that the poor selection was probably going to do her no favors.

"Excuse me," he asked politely, voice low.

Her head shot up. Mark noticed her thick black eyeliner was smudged and looked slightly damp.

"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry." She looked up at him, eyes wide. "I forgot you're not really supposed to talk in the library."

Mark frowned, getting the sneaking suspicion that she didn't find often find herself in libraries.

"No, it's alright," he replied, taking a few steps toward her. "I apologize if I'm being forward, but do you need a hand with anything?"

She continued to look up at him as she seemed to think about it. "I don't want you to go out of your way..."

"Oh," he said, waving a hand dismissively as he closed the gap between them and kneeled down next to her. "I'm just here for fun. What are you trying to find?"

Conflicted, she took a deep breath. "I have to do a presentation in my Developmental Psych class on, like, families but I totally missed the day in my English Class last year where we went to the library and learned how to use the online library thing so now I'm trying to find something in one of these books, but I've been in here three days in a row now and I still haven't found anything useful."

Her lip quivered. Despite the fact that Mark by and large preferred other men, he could see that she was actually very pretty. Her eyes were quite large, and there was something almost androgynously childlike about her face. The pervasive look of helplessness in her appearance made Mark feel strangely obligated to help her.

"Do you have anything at all yet?" he asked.

"Only...only one book and...and..." The tears that had begun to pool in her large eyes started to stream heavily down her face.

"Do you have it with you?"

"No..." Her face screwed up, as though she were trying to ineffectively stem her quickly loudening sobs.

Fighting the overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and coo at her in hushed tones, he gently pried the book from her hands and slipped it back onto the shelf, making sure the numbers were in the proper order.

"Here," he said, pulling his messenger bag off of his shoulder. "I have my laptop with me. If you'd like, I can help you find a couple of articles that might be useful."

Before he realized what was happening, he felt himself nearly bowled over as she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly and perhaps for a little too long. He couldn't help but be keenly aware of the softness of her body and the gentle crush of her round breasts against him. He exhaled sharply before he could stop himself, and she pulled away.

"You're the best," she said, running a hand unabashedly though her messy hair. "Thank you sooo much."

As a bright, open smile lit up her face, Mark couldn't help but find her hopelessly pretty.

"Say, would you rather go to the cafeteria?" he suggested, helping her up. "We would be able to talk a little louder and I could really go for a cup of coffee."

Nodding, she wiped her eyes, smudging her makeup even further. "That would be nice."

"My name is Mark, by the way."

"I'm Porsche."

Mark smiled, feeling slightly giddy.

"And she is fair," he began, recalling the lines with ease, "and, fairer than that word. Of wondrous virtues: sometimes from her eyes I did receive fair speechless messages."

He doubted she had ever even heard of The Merchant of Venice, but the urge to impress her overwhelmed him before he could stop himself.

"Oh," she said, smiling thoughtfully. "That's very nice of you..."

Mark went to explain, but she interrupted him with a loud giggle.

"But my name's spelled like the car. I wish my parents used hers, though. It's sooo much prettier."

Slightly awestruck, Mark went to speak, but found himself entirely unable to. Blinking in disbelief, he let himself be tugged gently down the aisle, unsure of what he had just gotten himself into.