though the style and color palette of his wardrobe were typically much bolder than zo’s, monty had veered closer to the agent’s standard men in black type outfit than he would usually ever dare. his only consolation was that he’d chosen a suit with a subtle houndstooth print — givenchy, of course — for his little endeavor with dante that day.
their endeavor, speaking of, had gone off without a hitch. because of course it had, between monty’s lofty yet smothering rich-boy condescension and dante’s frankly ridiculous attention to detail. monty was good with dates, times, faces, places; to him, it was an art, a carefully concocted web of lies and half-truths. to dante, it was a science, everything in its logical place, the left brain to his right. they worked flawlessly, and monty strode out of the frick collection wearing both his houndstooth suit and the quiet smugness of someone far too used to success.
once he’d parted ways with the walking killjoy that was dante, there was little left to do except brace himself for the brisk walk back to his apartment. monty, snob that he was, steadfastly refused to enter a subway station unless he was dragged, kicking and screaming. call him spoiled, but a lifetime of chauffeurs and luxury cars had left him with a particular disdain for getting up close and personal with the sights and smells of nyc’s subway system. it wasn’t as if he could pay for first class. not even business class. to add insult to injury, it didn’t make sense to order an uber ( uberBLACK, of course, he wasn’t a heathen ) when he lived less than a mile from the frick collection. overall, a goddamn tragedy.
regardless of his transportation, the fact of the matter was that monty had a much shorter trip home than usual. for once, they were on his home turf, which was jarring and convenient all at the same time. he was used to heists in other states, at the very least, where it would take him a certain length of time and mileage to get home. now, all he had between him and his front door was a dwindling number of new york city blocks. his thoughts drifted as he meandered down fifth avenue, settling unwillingly on what — who — awaited him when he arrived back at his apartment.
he’d promised himself it wouldn’t happen again. promised zo, even, not that he held that one in as much high regard. monty, for all his enthusiasm when it came to the bedroom, was also very aware of the concept of not shitting where he ate. even so, slipping a key into zo’s hand had hardly been a thought, more of a reflex when he’d mentioned his inability to return upstate directly after the heist. he knew his flirtatious tone had been more than clear, but that was half the problem. it wasn’t as if he lacked opportunity for fulfilling that type of need, after all. but zo was close by, zo was unfairly attractive, and monty was hard-pressed to look much further now that he possessed, ahem, intimate knowledge of what zo kept hidden underneath his basic white button downs.
and speak of the devil — though he was the one that’d extended the invitation in the first place, monty still found himself a little surprised by the sight of zo standing in his living room. “ buenas, ” he offered, half in greeting and half in warning of his presence, shutting the door quietly behind him. his suit jacket made its home next to what he could only assume was zo’s, his shirt long since unbuttoned to expose the hollow of his throat. “ started celebrating a successful heist without me, i see, ” he added, nodding to the beer in zo’s hand.
the voice tore through his troubled reverie despite it's well intentioned tone. in fact, it took a few pounding heartbeats for zo to remember that he was the stranger in the lavish apartment. it was his presence that was out of place, not monty's. but maybe the sudden change of no longer pondering the weight of what he had done in solitude wasn't what had accelerated his heart rate. maybe it was something else entirely.
maybe it was the fact that this charismatic, perfectly charming and intoxicating man basically took over any room he was in. it was infuriating and enticing all at once.
which is why zo couldn't help but steal a glance when monty came to a stop beside him, even if it was a brief one. pristinely dressed as always, probably more so for the day's adventure, he stood composed but relaxed. he wondered, for a brief moment, if he was ever going to get to see the real monty, or if he was just a pawn in another one of his games, another distraction from mediocrity. after the weight of the day, that was a question for some other time. better suited for a confessional rather than an extravagant setting such as this one.
“no estoy celebrando.” he countered with a half shrug, helping himself to another sip. “this...trip...wasn't exactly what i thought i was signing up for. i’m way more comfortable holed up with gen or kit somewhere watching from the sidelines, rather than--” lying, abetting, breaking an oath-- he cut himself off, verbally and mentally, taking a longer drink this time in a pathetic attempt to calm the guilt that burned in the pit of his stomach. he forced a smile, shaking off the bad vibes of where his mind had been heading.
”didn't expect you back so soon, lindo. thought i might get one or two of these in before i got in trouble. i never did get to see a view like this when i lived here. the view’s a lot different in midtown.” a chuckle rumbled in his throat, and he turned to face monty daring another drink as he caught the other man's eyes. his gaze lingered, flicking quickly to smirking lips. he licked the lingering beer from his own, returning his eyes back to where they belonged. somehow, this view was significantly more impressive, but he would be damned if he said that out loud.
”¿te divertiste con dante?” he quirked an eyebrow, a bemused grin on his face, already knowing the answer to the question. “or is that why you're back so soon?”
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