Phil rolled his book truck through the 350s. He had to use both hands; the cart was decidedly difficult to steer and had a tendency to crash, but it had been Phil's for the last three years and he had a bit of a soft spot for it. He reached his target weeding shelf and started to remove books, stopping abruptly when he noticed a rogue 840 sitting innocently between 355.1342 Fos 2010 and 358.41134 Til 2002.
He closed his eyes briefly, sighed, and then picked up the 840. "Barton," he said, "pages generally try to shelve books in the correct section, rather than wherever they feel like."
A voice floated down from the shadows over the top shelf, a foot above Phil's head. "I'm bringing adventure back to the library, Coulson."
The last time Barton had talked about bringing adventure back to the library, Phil had started finding 523.8s scattered all over the building. 523 for specific celestial bodies, and .8 for stars. Barton's idea of a joke. Like Phil's book truck, Barton had a tendency for obstinacy and crashing, but also like the book truck, Phil had a secret soft spot for him. That was the only viable explanation for why Phil continued to fail to mention to Fury that one of the pages had a tendency to rearrange the books on a whim and read on top of the shelves, which was really just an insurance disaster waiting to happen.
Phil looked back at the book in his hand: 840, Literatures of Romance languages. He deliberately avoided looking at the title. He wasn't sure he actually wanted to know. "Don't forget to put this back," Phil said, setting it gently back on the shelf.
The next week, he found 811.6 Sik 2005 sitting nonchalantly amongst the 160s. "Are you still trying to bring adventure into the library?" he asked.
"Sort of," Clint said. He poked his head over the side of the shelf. "Is it working?"
"...Yes," said Phil.