Author's note: other kink meme: Oscar/Kieran-Oscar gets glasses to fix his squinting. Kieran is surprisingly attracted to them. Modern Au. Happy birthday, M!.
Kieran was usually banned from libraries. His robust sense of pride in his country had gotten him thrown out of plenty of them, to say nothing of being shushed in cinemas, bars, places of worship and supermarkets. It was his stain, his burden of having no indoor voice and an overactive sense of pride and duty as a Crimean knight. He just couldn't help belting out the national anthem in public places, and had more than once been assumed drunk when he was only drunk on life and patriotism.
He wasn't much for reading, anyways. He'd rather punch bears than read about someone punching bears—though he'd always respected Don Quixote and his 'take life by the horns' approach, and tried to emulate it as much as possible.
But his nemesis, his eternal rival, the green-haired squinty-eyed cook of doom was there, and so he braved the horrible quiet, the shelves that were out to get him, the other persnickety, ogres of librarians just for a confrontation. It had been all of a week since he last saw his rival, and he'd actually noticed this time, instead of getting so into his training schedule that he found out six months later that the rival of his heart had gone, gone, gone! He fully intended to have the loudest whisper hiss conversation in the history of conversations and tell him just what he thought of those books. In fact, he might even have to add a few moments of robust, throaty yells to these puny whispers.
He strode past the shelves, the people on laptop and the obviously evil librarians, straight to the back where Oscar was sure to be. For a moment, he didn't recognize his nemesis. With his sweater vest and non-squintiness. He wasn't even running into walls, this time. In fact, half of the reason why he picked Oscar as his rival at the academy was Oscar was the only one who had as many bruises as he did. Later he learned this were wall-related and not bear related, but that did not make his rivalry fade.
He always admired a man who could take a windmill–or wall–head on.
Oscar wore a pair of oval spectacles, and for once instead of being squinty and full of secrets, his eyes were wide and a deep shade of green. He was looking thoughtfully at a copy of Don Quixote alongside a pile of books he was attempting to fix the bindings of. He looked serene, mature, and distinctly non-squinty.
Kieran felt a sudden rush of desire. A desire to punch him right in the squinty face after a lusty, sweaty lance fight in the middle of the training ground, that was! Ripping off of clothes may have been involved, but only because sweaty naked lance fights were the best–and because sweater vests were an evil he could not abide by.
"What do we have here?" Kieran bellowed, forgetting about his whisper/hiss plan of extreme stealth.
Oscar pushed his glasses up. "Hello, Kieran."
"I see your plans now!" Kieran said, hitting his fist to the table for emphasis. "You planned to seduce me!"
Oscar blinked, as if he was trying to comprehend the weight of Kieran's words. "What gave you that impression?"
"Obviously, this librarian thing–these glasses. You fully intended to put on those glasses, let down your hair and then put on stockings and high heels while sitting on that library desk of yours—I must say, are you trying to seduce me, rival of mine?"
"...actually, I was just trying to give Soren a break once in a while," Oscar said. He looked utterly perplexed. "And I don't exactly have long enough hair to let down."
"No, No, I see you clearly! You have planned to win our duels by trickery and nakedness!"
His tirade of justice was interrupted by the insidious tapping of a cane. The evil crone had turned her gaze on him, and it was a very black and horrible one at that. She glared at him with the force of a thousand grandmother's telling their grandchildren to go pick a switch.
"Young man, this is a library," she said. "You must be quiet."
And there it was, that hated word. Quiet. The world had told him to be quiet about his pride in country, in his station and of punching bears but NO LONGER.
She was about half his size, withered and looking like she would smack him down with her cane. Her name tag listed her as the head librarian.
"Madame, I will not be quiet—!" He bellowed with much anguish and manly passion.
"He was just leaving," Oscar cut in. He put his hand on Kieran's back and lead him out of the library.
Kieran yelled some choice words as he was pushed out by his perfidious, formerly squinty rival.
"I never thought I'd see the day when you, my true rival, threw me out of a library!"
"I'd call it more 'escorting you out' than throwing you out," Oscar said.
"I could've taken that horrible hag!" Kieran protested.
"You wouldn't want to stain your honor as a Crimean knight by beating up a little old lady, right?"
"Nay, she is no 'innocent old lady'. I saw the evil lurking in her eyes!"
"That's cataracts, Kieran," Oscar said.
"Cataracts, evil it makes no difference to me!"
Kieran stomped his foot for emphasis. Oscar sighed.
"So, you had something you wanted to tell me?"
Oscar frowned in concentration. It only managed to make him look more studious and mature. Kieran couldn't take it anymore.
"I see your plan and I refuse to let you get the better of me!"
"Yes, yes—" Oscar was cut off as Kieran pulled him to him and slammed their lips together. It was rough, quick, like a battle. Just as their rivalry demanded. When he pulled back, Oscar's face was flushed and his glasses were askew.
"Now it is not you who has seduced me, but I have seduced you! And I believe the next proper term of the code of rivals and honor of Crimean knights is to take you out to coffee!But not Starbucks, for it is a thing of evil!"
"I think you'd get kicked out of any coffeeshop we went to, especially Starbucks," Oscar said.
He was nonchalant as always. Mature and wearing glasses, like some kind of geeky wanton seducer except in a sweatervest. A horrible argyle sweatervest which would be summarily ripped off from his glistening biceps!
"I take my coffee black, for that is the only way for a Crimean knight to do so!"
"I remember, it's how you take it every day," Oscar said. "Anyways, I'll buy. Wouldn't want you to cause a riot in the coffeehouse."
Kieran was about to protest that this would imply he was the girl in their rival ship, even though that made no sense, but then he remembered he left his wallet at home in his other pair of pants.
"Fine, but I will best you in practice, next time!" Kieran said.
Oscar seemed more mysterious than ever as he smiled. Almost as if he was implying that he, Kieran of the Crimean Knights would need luck to take him down. It made his blood burn! Burn!
So Kieran kissed him again, just to show him who was on top in their rivalship, and who would later be winning in their honorable, hot-blooded, naked lance fight.
Lest he ever forget it.