Love and Vandalism
This was inspired by this tag from ao3tags, which I found hilarious. It features both Minty and Bellarke and @leralynne had to put up with a lot of ranting from me as I wrote it, so thank you! (And also, please write that prompt too one day.)
[Read it on ao3]
"Vandalism is not a valid form of flirting, you know."
Leaning against a row of shiny brass mailboxes in his co-worker's apartment building, Nathan Miller watches exasperatedly as his other co-worker and best friend is poised to turn an innocent mailbox into a glittery nightmare. Not for the first time, Miller wonders how the hell he got dragged into this.
Bellamy makes an annoyed sound and angrily stabs at the mailbox with his key, because for some reason he seems to believe that will get it open.
“I'm not flirting.“
“Right, I forgot,” Miller says and rolls his eyes, “that's what normal people would do if they were in love with their co-worker.“
“I am not in love with Clarke!“ Bellamy grinds out, then lets out a triumphant little shout as the mailbox creaks open. “I'm trying to teach her a lesson.“
Miller almost rolls his eyes again. “You keep telling yourself that.“ He watches quietly for a moment as Bellamy covers the inside of the mailbox with glue, then stuffs the plastic bag of pink and purple glitter in there and presses it against the back and sides of the rectangular metal box to make sure it sticks. “Still vandalism though,“ Miller adds lightly, although at this point he doesn't have much hope of convincing his friend to abandon this stupid plan. Or better yet, end that stupid prank war altogether.
And indeed, Bellamy shows no sign of giving up. Instead, he coats the inside of the mailbox's little door in glue as well and closes it, pressing against it for a little while to make sure the bag really sticks to the door. The plan, as Miller can infer, is for the flimsy plastic bag to be ripped open when Clarke opens the mailbox so that the glitter pours out. And since her mailbox is installed on the highest of five rows of identical boxes and Clarke no doubt has to reach up to open it, that means most of it will land on her hair and be a nightmare to get out. So, as far as stupid pranks go, it does promise to be somewhat entertaining, although Bellamy will probably use it as an excuse to stare at Clarke's blonde mane even more than he already does.
Miller sighs. This very absurd moment right now is the peak of a months-long prank war taking place at their usually rather professional workplace. It started less than a month after Clarke started working at their firm and immediately butted heads with Bellamy, and since then the two of them, both technically adults and highly successful lawyers, have been at it with the stupid pranks when everyone around them knows what they really want is to tear each other's clothes off.
It started when Clarke asked Bellamy to send her the files for a case she was taking over from him, and Bellamy printed it all out and covered her entire office in it, taping the pages to every available surface so that it took Clarke almost an hour to tear it all down. Clarke retaliated by telling Bellamy that an influential client they were both wooing was a big fan of French cuisine, especially escargots, and Bellamy fell for it and took the man out to a French restaurant and tried to impress him by ordering a big plate of escargots as his appetizer. He didn't even make it through more than a handful of snails in butter before he got nauseous and had to excuse himself. By the time he returned to the table, Clarke had snatched the client out from under his nose, and turned herself into an office legend.
After that, it was on.
For a while, their shenanigans were amusing, a playful distraction from their hectic lives. After six months of steadily escalating pranks, however, Miller is starting to long for the peaceful days of yore, when everyone just ignored each other and went about their day, and when he could actually get some work done without Bellamy coming over to brainstorm new pranks or Clarke raging about the fallout from his newest idea.
But instead of cooling down, the two seem to be taking it up a notch – and taking it out of the office, too. Miller has never even been to Clarke's place before, and now he's suddenly helping to install a glitter bomb in her mailbox. Which reminds him....
“How did you manage to get that open? Did you steal her key or something?”
Bellamy shrugs. “Nope.” He pops the “p” with a smug smile. “She told me the lock on her mailbox was broken and that it's possilbe to open it with anything remotely key-shaped.” He shakes his head as if to say that he can't believe Clarke would be stupid enough to tell him something like that. Miller is more inclined to shake his head at Bellamy's stupidity. Clearly, Clarke was fishing for an offer to repair the mailbox himself, perhaps followed by a glass of wine at her apartment... But if Bellamy's too stubborn or stupid to go after what he wants (honestly, Miller isn't sure which one it is) it's not Miller's job to make him see sense.
As a rule, Miller stays out of his friends' love lives. He's held firm to this rule so far, and he's not going to abandon it now.
Until the moment, less than a day later, when he finds out that the stupid prank war actually hurt an innocent person.
With the glitter bomb successfully installed, Miller and Bellamy head to their favourite bar for a nightcap, and Miller just hopes the fallout won't be too vicious.
But to Miller's great surprise and Bellamy's obvious disappointment, Clarke looks decidedly dull and glitter-free the next day. Either she spent the entire night scrubbing glitter off her hair and face, or Bellamy's plan wasn't quite as foolproof as he thought. She definitely looks a little tired, Miller thinks, with bags under her eyes and the slightest little slouch to her posture. But she still greets everyone brightly and jumps right into the day's tasks as if nothing at all had happened. Not a minute later, Bellamy sends his first text of many badgering Miller about whether or not he thinks it happened.
It's only much later, when Bellamy and Miller are sitting in the courtyard to eat lunch and discuss whether or not Bellamy's great prank worked, that they get their answer: A shadow falls over them, and suddenly Bellamy is being showered in glitter.
“Are you mad?“ Bellamy yelps and tries to shake the glitter out of his hair and shirt – a plan that is clearly doomed to fail.
“Yes, actually,“ Clarke replies, but her voice is cool and instead of sporting a look of triumph at having bested them, she looks grim – and decidedly angry. Which, of course, pleases Bellamy to no end.
But before he can get some sort of dig in – and inevitably call Clarke „Princess“ to rile her up even more – Clarke continues.
“And so would you be if you got a face full of glitter and spent the entire night vomiting it up again!“
Bellamy snorts, but doesn't seem altogether at ease – and Clarke's next words make his grin drop off his face altogether, and Miller's own stomach turn with dread too.
“Which is exactly what happened to my sweet and considerate roommate Monty when he offered to get the mail. That stupid glitter? It went everywhere. His eyes, mouth, nose... he inhaled a bunch of it, of course, and until this morning, I was wondering if I should take him to the hospital to have his lungs checked out. Are you happy now?“
There are actual tears in her eyes now, and Bellamy snaps to his feet, abandoning his glitter-covered sandwich on the bench beside him to grip her arms.
“Fuck, Clarke, I had no idea... I never meant for any of that to happen! I didn't think...“
“Of course you didn't think,“ she says, definitely choked up, and wrenches out of his grip. “You never do!“ And with that she storms off, two big pink hand prints on the sleeves of her white blouse.
Bellamy stares after her until she's disappeared back into the building, while everyone else sitting in the courtyard is busy staring at Bellamy instead.
“I fucked up, didn't I?“
“Big time,“ Miller confirms, never one to sugarcoat the ugly truth.
“What do I do now?“ Bellamy sounds truly lost, Miller almost feels pity for him. Almost.
“Now you get that stuff out of your hair, change into your spare suit, and as soon as we get off work, we're going to Clarke's to apologize to her roommate.”
“We?”
“I didn't exactly try very hard to stop you, did I?” Because that's the truth: Miller is just as responsible for making Clarke's poor roommate suffer as Bellamy is.
Four hours later, they're standing in front of Clarke's apartment building again, Bellamy clutching the bouquet of brightly-coloured flowers they bought on the way here.
One more deep breath, a shared look and a determined nod from Bellamy, and he's ringing Clarke's doorbell.
Miller has thought about what he's going to say all afternoon, how he's going to explain his role in the whole debacle without making it look like he wants to get out of taking responsibility.
Unfortunately, as soon as the door opens, everything he planned to say flies right out of his head.
Because Clarke's roommate is cute. Seriously, seriously cute.
Luckily, Bellamy takes up the role of leader of their mission, which is only fair seeing as the whole mess is his fault. This leaves Miller free to stare at the man before him, the shock of black hair contrasting with the soft red sweater he wears, his eyes glittering animatedly despite the dark circles underneath them. He hears Bellamy ask if the man before them is Monty and, once that is confirmed, rush out his apology and hand over the flowers, which are received with a soft little laugh. Only when Bellamy seems to be winding down does Miller even start to fully listen to him again.
“So, again... I'm very, very sorry this happened to you. I didn't even know Clarke had a roommate!”
Monty laughs that soft laugh again and Miller's stomach does a little flip and honestly, what is up with that laugh? Is he still high on glitter particles? Or is it possible that one person could actually be this forgiving and good-natured and smiley?
It's quite the puzzle, and Miller narrows his eyes and keeps staring at the roommate as he tries to figure him out.
“I'm not really her roommate, not permanently. I just live here while I look for my own place. I only moved here last week.”
“Ah.” Bellamy says unintelligently, clearly having run out of pre-prepared things to say.
Monty doesn't seem to mind. His expression remains open and friendly as he fixes his gaze on Miller and addresses him for the first time.
“So, if he's here to apologize,” he nods at Bellamy, “what are you here for?”
Miller's suddenly feels like he's been caught red-handed at something naughty, and he wonders just how long he's been standing here, silently and creepily checking out the guy they almost put in the hospital last night!
“I...,” he croaks nervously, quickly clears his throat. “I came to apologize too.”
Monty raises an eyebrow, and the sharpness of the gesture tells Miller not to confuse good-naturedness with naiveté on this one.
“It took two people to stuff some glitter into Clarke's mailbox?”
Miller wishes the ground would open up and swallow him: Here is an insanely attractive man, and Miller has to apologize for hurting him in a stupid, childish, potentially dangerous prank.
Luckily Bellamy, protective as he is, jumps in to defend him. “Miller didn't really do anything. I just dragged him along as a look-out.”
It doesn't seem to appease Monty, whose expression turns more and more serious.
“So, technically that still makes you an accomplice. Ethically - just as guilty.”
Miller wonders if he'd feel less guilty about the whole thing if he started punching himself right now and not stop until he'd knocked himself out.
But suddenly Monty's face cracks into a bright smile.
“Relax, I'm just pulling your leg. I'm not mad, really. It was a good prank, as pranks go. I even made Clarke take a picture of my glittery self once I was done throwing up.”
Then he suddenly opens the door wide and walks inside, leaving it open behind him.
“Are you guys coming in for a beer?”
Miller and Bellamy share a stunned look at this unexpected development. Then Bellamy shrugs and follows Monty inside Clarke's apartment, looking around curiously.
Miller follows more cautiously, half-expecting to be hit with some sort of prank in retaliation himself. But nothing happens except for Monty reappearing from the kitchen with three bottles and handing them each one.
The drinks do wonders to cure their awkwardness and make Monty somehow even more smiley and beautiful, and soon Bellamy remembers that charming strangers is actually supposed to be one of his strengths, which means he handles the small talk and Miller can focus on doing some more staring. The whole adventure seems to have pretty much reached a happy ending when the door opens.
Clarke takes one step into her apartment, sees them, and stops dead in her tracks.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Her gaze shoots over to Monty, suddenly worried. “Monty, have they been bothering you?”
Monty lifts his hands in a reassuring “calm down”-gesture.
“Of course not, Clarke. They came to apologize for the mailbox thing.”
Clarke's lips draw even tighter.
“They better apologize. They could have killed you.”
“Clarke....” Bellamy is already on his feet and moving towards her again, face twitching with guilt.
“But they didn't. I'm completely fine.” Monty points to the bouquet of flowers which he put in a vase on the table. “They brought flowers and everything!”
Clarke is still not appeased, and Bellamy looks more desperate by the second.
“Clarke, please, can...” he swallows hard, looks around until his eyes fall on the balcony door. “Can we talk outside?”
A torturously long moment of silence, then Clarke nods and walks bristly over to the door leading out to her gorgeous balcony.
“Wow, that was... tense.” Monty observes as the balcony door closes behind Clarke and Bellamy. “It's weird, I always got the impression Clarke was enjoying that little prank war they had going.”
“She told you about that?”
“Are you kidding? She talked about nothing else. I heard more about Bellamy's pranks than about any other area of her life. Hell, I don't even know if she's been seeing anyone since she broke up with Lexa. But you better believe I know what Bellamy did this week. Honestly, it feels like this has been going on forever.”
Miller shrugs.
“Not forever. It's only been about six months.”
Monty gapes at him, eyes widening theatrically.
“You've been putting up with that for six months? Shit, you must have nerves of steel.”
Again, all that Miller can come up with is a noncommittal shrug. He's not generally easy to ruffle, and he's learned to tune out Clarke and Bellamy in particular. Still, the hint of admiration in Monty's voice makes him feel like somehow putting up with his friends' childish antics is an achievement to be proud of.
Then, with a secretive little grin that is altogether too attractive, Monty says casually: “You know, someone should really teach them a lesson about pranks and how they can go wrong.”
Miller swallows hard. “Someone should do that, yes.”
And before he can wonder if he's reading this correctly, Monty leans closer, knee brushing against his leg, to whisper:
“Maybe that someone should be us.”
Miller feels a shiver run down his spine that has nothing to do with the blast of Clarke's air condition and everything with Monty's closeness and the way he's referring to them as an “us”.
“Got any ideas yet?” He asks, throat dry despite the sip of beer he just took.
“Not yet. But I'll keep you posted as soon as I do, alright?”
Before Miller can process that yes, this is actually happening, Monty has whipped out his phone and is looking at him expectantly.
“So you should give me your number so we can plan our little secret mission.”
Another tiny thrill shoots through him, and Miller just barely manages to pull himself together enough to dictate his number to Monty just before Clarke and Bellamy come back inside, both looking thoughtful, and Bellamy declares that their ready to leave. To Miller's delight, Monty actually looks disappointed about that. But just before he walks out the door, Monty winks at him and mouths “Call me”, and Miller has to fight to keep a goofy smile off his face.
Two hours later, his phone lights up with the first text from Monty.
It begins with “so I've been doing some research” and ends with “we should probably meet and plan this properly”, and Miller feels like he's walking on a cloud the rest of the day.
They spend a full three weeks planning their big prank – which Monty stubbornly calls a “lesson” - and Miller slowly starts to understand why Clarke and Bellamy love doing this so much. It definitely is fun coming up with ever-crazier schemes, especially because Monty gets really into it as he debates everything from logistics to sound effects with flushed cheeks and wild gestures. It's entertaining but not great for his capacity for planning complicated pranks, because Miller's thoughts when he watches Monty like that tend to go back and forth between must protect and I wonder what else he does with that much passion and, well, it's a lot to take.
Plus, they have to meet in secret which rules out Clarke's apartment and also makes the whole thing feel like a secret tryst. Miller suggests meeting up at his favourite coffee-shop, which has amazing coffee and even more amazing brownies, and the first time Monty bites into one, he makes a positively obscene face and then moans:
“I love you just for bringing me here!”
Miller wonders if it's too early to propose.
Three weeks of planning and one trip to the electronics store later, they've finished their big project. Monty has also managed to find an apartment, which gives them the perfect excuse to get Clarke and Bellamy in the same place: A moving-out / housewarming party for Monty. Luckily, Clarke has brought Monty along to some outings with a few other co-workers because he doesn't know anyone else in town, so inviting Bellamy to their little shindig is perfectly plausible. Talking him into arriving earlier to help Clarke and Monty set up is just as easy, because Bellamy apparently still feels guilty about the mailbox incident and is looking for ways to redeem himself.
Which, oddly, is also what he's been doing in the three weeks since then, to such an extent that people at the office have begun talking. Bellamy has been perfectly nice and cooperative to Clarke, has brought her coffee when he went to get some for himself and Miller, and helped her with filing a complicated patent claim. As for the prank war, there has been absolutely nothing to report, and if he's being very honest about it, Miller has to admit that the two seem to have learned their lesson and don't really need another one from him and Monty. But of course, cancelling on Monty, who bought an actual drone for their prank, is not an option.
Miller actually only has a very vague idea what the drone is for – he has long since lost his grip on the finer details of their undertaking, and is now only carrying out what Monty tells him to do. It involves water balloons and a complicated system of strings and pulleys, and that's before the drone even comes in. But Monty knows exactly where he wants everything to go, thanks to a sketch he drew on what looks to be blueprints of Clarke's apartment, and Miller simply follows his orders and tries not to fall off the ladder Monty made him climb when his brain suggests that Monty ordering him about is actually pretty sexy.
By the time they've finally finished their preparations, Miller is a nervous, sweaty mess, but Monty seems happy.
All that's left to do now is get to their carefully chosen look-out spot on the roof, power up the drone, and wait. From their spot diagonally across from Clarke's apartment on top of the L-shaped building, they have an excellent view on the balcony, and can soon see Clarke and Bellamy step outside and look around with confused faces.
One click on a remote makes the shutters roll down inside Clarke's apartment, effectively trapping them outside. Then, while they're still dealing with that development, Monty deploys the drone. It whirs straight down to the balcony and triggers Monty's mechanism as planned.
A volley of water balloons rains down on them, from high enough above that they're sure to pop when they hit their target. Bellamy actually lunges protectively towards Clarke and tries to cover her head and shoulders with his arms, which Miller would find touching if they hadn't driven him up the wall with their antics before. Only when they're both completely drenched, sundress, slacks and white shirt clinging to them respectively, does the attack stop.
Miller watches with baited breath what will happen next, Monty's tight clutch on his arm suggesting that his partner-in-crime is just as anxious.
But for a moment, what happens is... nothing. The two just stand there, staring at each other, then staring around the balcony – and then slowly, slowly they seem to be putting together the pieces.
“We should have installed mics so we can hear what they're saying,” Monty says, truly regretfuly.
And that's when the yelling starts.
“Nevermind about the mics.”
Even without microphones, it's not too hard to piece together what's going on down there: Clarke and Bellamy seem to somehow both blame the other for what happened to them, and are now trying to out-shout each other with their wild accusations. But despite the anger in their voices, Miller notes with interest, they're moving closer and closer together, and Miller has a feeling it's not because they're each planning to wrestle the other to the ground.
"I don't think it's working." Monty comments, sounding a little disappointed. “They were supposed to realize the error of their ways and feel bad about their stupid pranks, but so far they're just yelling at each other.”
"Trust me, it's working." Miller says, completely confident that their plan is working, and Monty raises a sceptical eyebrow. "At least, it's working the way I was hoping it would."
"And how did you hope it would work out?" Monty asks, looking genuinely curious, and for a moment Miller is distracted when a gust of wind ruffles that thick, glossy hair of his.
When he tears his eyes away to look back down on their two victims, it is to find that his prediction came true. Smiling smugly, Miller nods his head in the direction of the balcony below, and Monty follows the movement to see that Clarke and Bellamy have stopped yelling at each other and are making out. Passionately.
When he turns back to look at Monty, the other man is staring, open-mouthed, at him and Miller definitely feels smug.
"Like that. There won't be any more pranks at work. They'll be too busy banging."
Monty makes a face, but when he tentatively peeks over the balcony railing again, Clarke has hopped up on the patio table and Bellamy, standing between her legs, has happily attached his lips to her neck.
Miller shudders and quickly averts his eyes as he realizes the downside of witnessing first hand how well his plan worked out.
"I will never get that memory out of my head, will I?"
"Probably not, no." Monty laughs, but he's beaming and Miller's heart skips a beat – and then Monty's expression changes ever so slightly: his exuberance is dimmed by hesitation, his eyes narrow briefly as if he's considering something. Then they fix on Miller's eyes, not without flickering down to his lips first, and Miller's throat goes dry.
"We could make some new memories though," Monty suggests innocently and licks his lips, and Miller growls and surges forward to kiss him. Who'd have thought Clarke's sweet, nerdy friend would have that kind of game? Miller thinks vaguely, then Monty pushes back and snakes his arms around his back and Miller stops thinking entirely.
He learns two things that day: 1) Glitter really doesn't come off easily because Monty still has some in his hair and 2) Monty is a phenomenal kisser and there's a chance Miller will never want to kiss anyone else again.
All things considered, vandalism may not be a valid form of flirting. But no one can say that it isn't effective.
