Hey love your fics im a first time prompt sender, if you can could you carry on Where Everybody Knows Your Name, except with Monty and Miller, I want to see if Monty gets his customer crush too, looking forward to the holiday fics i cant wait thanks x
Original fic here!
“It was Nate, right?”
Monty considers, but he can’t help the smartass retort. It’s his lot in life. “No, Monty. We work together?”
Clarke rolls her eyes, but she’s clearly amused. Possibly in spite of herself, but he’ll take what he can get. “Your customer crush. Nate with the rainbow flag on his bag?”
“Oh, yeah. That’s him. Why?”
“I know him.”
He frowns. “Okay, that’s just unfair. You can’t hog all the hot queer boys. We’re in a recession.”
“Which is why I’m talking to you. He and Bellamy are friends. They hang out. If you came to hang out too, you could actually spend time with him.”
“You have such a weird thing about talking to people you’re romantically interested in. Who does that?”
“People who want to get laid.” She leans back against the counter, watching him shrewdly. He likes Clarke, but she can be kind of intense. “You don’t have to do anything about it. But I figured I should let you know. Hanging out with Miller is a possibility.”
“Miller?”
“Bellamy calls him Miller. That’s why I didn’t make the connection earlier. But we all hung out last night, so—“
“So you slept with a customer and want to enable everyone else to do the same.”
“We’re dating,” she points out. Monty still thinks she might be a witch, honestly. It would explain some things. “All I’m enabling you to do is spend some time with him socially. He’s hosting game night at his place on Saturday night. Bellamy said I could bring friends.”
The entire premise of Monty’s crush is that Nate is attractive and seems to be queer. He’s quiet and polite when he comes in, and usually puts a dollar in the tip jar after he pays. There are no particularly deep feelings involved. He’s eye candy.
But, well.
“Game night?”
“Apparently he’s really into indie board games.”
“Oh my god.”
She smirks, and he’ll give her this one. She deserves to be smug. “So, you’re in, right?” she asks.
“Send me the details, yeah. I think I can make it.”
*
Monty has a fairly effective strategy for dealing with random crushes: he doesn’t do anything about them and eventually they go away. He likes having a person to idly fantasize about, but actually making a move always seems kind of terrifying. In college, his first and only girlfriend had asked him out, and they’d had a year-long relationship that ended with graduation.
And since then, nothing. Just scattered crushes, the kind with no pressure at all. People who aren’t really real, customers and attractive strangers on the bus. When Clarke was hired, he thought about getting a crush on her, but she was too intimidating, and not really his type.
Plus, after less than a month, she was dating Bellamy, which sort of proved his point. Anyone who went from crush to flirting to relationship with the efficiency she did was not someone he could ever date.
But a quiet guy who’s friends with his coworker and her boyfriend, who has board game nights? That guy’s right up his alley. And it’s a more than a little terrifying.
Clarke agrees to walk over to Nate’s with him, so he won’t be showing up alone. Bellamy isn’t even there, so they don’t have to pretend he’s not nervous about interacting with his semi-crush.
“It’s not a big deal,” Clarke says, which isn’t actually that helpful. He knows it’s not a big deal. She doesn’t need to remind him he’s being irrational.
His expression must give him away, because her face dissolves into a sheepish smile. “Sorry. So it’s going to be us, Bellamy, Miller, their friend Monroe, Raven, and her boyfriend. Apparently they try to do this like once a month.”
“Cool.” He pauses. “Bellamy didn’t think it was weird? That you were bringing me.”
“Nope. That’s part of why I asked Raven,” she adds. “I just said I was bringing my two favorite coworkers.”
“Aww,” he says, grinning. “Thanks.”
“Not a lie.”
“We like you too.” He exhales. “I shouldn’t be nervous, right? This is board games. If I’ve got a thing, this is it.”
“Definitely. Also you like Bellamy and Raven, and Miller is pretty laid back. You have good taste in crushes.”
“Thanks. Did we know Raven had a boyfriend?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, cool, just checking. Should I call Nate Miller? Does everyone call him Miller?”
“I don’t think he’ll mind Nate? He and Bellamy met in high school and there were a couple Nates, so he went by his last name. Either is probably fine.”
“It’s probably good,” he says. “Nate is an idea, Miller is a person. I can get to know the person.”
“That’s the spirit.”
They run into Raven a few blocks out, falling into step with her and her boyfriend, a tall guy with long hair who’s about as intimidating as Raven is, honestly. They’re one of those couples Monty is sure could kick his ass without even noticing they were doing it.
“Hey,” says Raven. “Finally putting your money where your mouth is, Monty?”
“I’ve never understood that saying,” he muses. “Do you have any idea how dirty money is? The last place I want it is where my mouth is.”
Raven smirks. “Don’t be nervous. Me and Clarke are going to talk you up.”
“That actually makes me feel worse, thanks. Is this your boyfriend? Do we get introduced or is he just going to lurk?”
“Yeah, this is Roan. Roan, Monty and Clarke. Clarke’s boyfriend invited us. I slept with him after it turned out Clarke and I were dating the same guy.”
Roan takes this in stride. “I will probably need a diagram. But it’s nice to meet you both. Raven has been educating me on the evolution of board gaming beyond Scrabble and Monopoly, so I’m looking forward to an educational afternoon.”
“Oh wow,” says Monty. “Yeah, you’ve got a lot to look forward to. Did Bellamy tell you what we were playing? If Miller’s understanding of modern board games begins and ends with Settlers of Catan, I don’t think I can be into him anymore.”
“What if board game night is actually just Sorry for three hours?” Clarke asks. “What then?”
“As long as it’s not Monopoly. Then none of us would come out with relationships.”
They talk favorite games until they get there, which lulls Monty into a false sense of security. He can do this. He’s a normal person who has normal conversations.
And then Nate opens the door to the apartment building, and it all kind of falls apart. He usually comes in on his way to work, dressed in slacks and collared shirts, but on his own time he apparently favors tight t-shirts and worn jeans. The t-shirt has the triforce on it, too, just to rub it in. It’s like he stepped right out of one of Monty’s pathetic dork fantasies.
“Hey, coffee shop crew. I’m an asshole who doesn’t actually know any of your names except Clarke. I assume you’re Raven and you’re Monty,” he adds, guessing correctly. “And you must be Raven’s boyfriend, name to be determined.”
“Roan,” he says. “A pleasure.”
“Cool. We haven’t ordered pizza yet, so you guys can get in on arguing about toppings. Come on up.”
Bellamy and Monroe are already upstairs, looking at Nate’s–Miller’s–impressive collection of board games. To Monty’s commingled relief and horror, he’s got great taste in games, some titles he loves, others he’s been hoping to try out, and even some that weren’t on his radar at all but look cool.
“I have a problem,” says Miller, when he catches Monty examining a deluxe edition of Underlings of Underwing. “A kickstarter problem.”
“This is honestly amazing,” he says. “Like–wow. You have the game collection I dream of having.”
“Yeah? What are some of your favorites?”
There’s this zone Monty gets into where he’s nervous, where he can interact normally, have full, coherent conversations, but it feels as if he’s watching himself do it, as if he’s in a video game running through a pre-written script until he hits a decision. He and Miller have a perfectly cordial discussion of games, and Monty’s sure he comes across well.
On the inside, though, he’s basically dying.
It gets better once they settle in for actual gaming. The games are engaging and require him to put thought into them, and even though he always ends up playing the same game as Miller when they break into groups, he can interact through mockery and trash talk, which works for him. Especially since Miller gives as good as he gets.
He’s congratulating himself on interacting like a normal human and never having to do it again when Miller grabs his arm. “Hey, have you played Pandemic Legacy?”
“No, just regular Pandemic.”
“I’m trying to get a game going on Thursdays. Bellamy and Clarke are in, so we need a fourth. You want to join?”
“Thursdays?” he asks, to fill the space as his brain catches up.
“Yeah. I figure we won’t make it work every week, but I want to try it. I hear it’s cool.”
“Yeah, me too. I can probably do that, yeah. Thursday nights?”
“Yup. Give me your number, I’ll text you when we’ve got a plan.”
“Awesome, sounds good. Looking forward to it.”
They shake hands, and Bellamy and Miller do a bro hug, and everyone else says their goodbyes downstairs. Clarke’s going over to Bellamy’s, which means she’s not going the same direction he is anymore, and he gets to walk home alone, letting his music dominate his brain.
Jasper’s playing Splatoon when he gets to the apartment, and Monty just collapses next to him with a groan.
“Did it suck?”
“No. It was amazing. We have a ton in common, he has a huge game collection, he wants me to join a weekly Pandemic Legacy game. I don’t know how it could have gone better.”
Jasper pats his shoulder, consoling. “Sorry, bro. That sucks.”
“Yeah, I know.”
*
Miller’s never been one of the regulars who comes in every day, so Monty doesn’t actually see him again for another couple days. He comes in on Tuesday morning, though, looking just as attractive as always, except now he has a personality.
Clarke Griffin is the worst thing that’s ever happened to Monty, probably. This is her fault.
He’s grabbing a big order of pastries when Miller comes in, so he just offers a smile, but he ends up in line right next to him, because that’s the kind of luck Monty has.
“Morning,” says Miller.
“Morning. How’s it going?”
“Okay. I was hoping you were going to be here. When do you finish work on Thursday?”
He blinks. “Oh, uh–three? Morning shift.”
“Cool. I was thinking like six for the game. Order dinner, figure out the rules, fight over how to prevent disease while the world dies around. The usual.”
“Yeah, that should work for me. Are you getting any pastries?” he adds.
“Yeah, blueberry muffin.”
Monty grabs one quickly, puts it in a bag and hands it over. It’s nothing he hasn’t done for other regulars, nothing he hasn’t done for Miller before, even. But this is the problem with a fake crush becoming a real crush: now everything feels important. It’s not fun anymore.
Which is, of course, ridiculous. He still doesn’t have a chance. He just has real things to pine over.
“Thanks,” Miller says, easy. “I’ll text you later tonight.”
“Cool. Have a good day.”
“You too.”
“Very natural,” Maya says, patting his shoulder once Miller is gone. “Totally smooth.”
“It may seem that way, but on the inside I am dying.”
“No, I can tell.”
“Thanks,” he says. “Really.”
“At least you get to hang out with him every week,” Clarke says, and he glares at her.
“I’m not even talking to you. You’re banned.”
She just smiles. “You’re welcome.”
He makes sure there are no customers around before he gives her the finger. So he’s not that doomed.
Yet.
*
Interacting with Miller isn’t that bad, except that the whole crush thing doesn’t get better. He’s just waiting for something to ruin it, and nothing does. Miller is not only hot and queer, but sarcastic and geeky and passionate. He works for a theater company that does outreach in public schools and seems to love it, and while Monty doesn’t really think he saves kittens from trees in his spare time or anything, that’s not really his type anyway.
Miller is his type. Basically just as he is. And he has no idea what to do about it.
“You could ask him out,” Clarke says. They’ve got their fifth week of Pandemic Legacy tomorrow, and Monty might be complaining. Just a little.
In his defense, it is her fault. She deserves it.
“How dare you,” he says.
“Monty doesn’t woo,” Jasper adds. “Monty is wooed.”
“Hey, that’s not fair. Most of the time, I’m neither.”
“Oh right. In general, Monty is just sad and alone.”
“That’s me,” he agrees. “I’ve got a brand, Clarke. Respect the brand.”
“And your brand can never date Miller?”
“No, my brand’s just bad at it. And I think it’s incompatible with his,” he adds.
“Really?” Clarke asks, sounding dubious. “You’re nerds who love games. How are you not on Miller’s brand?”
“His low self esteem makes it hard for him,” says Jasper, like he’s some kind of expert.
“Your mom’s low self esteem makes it hard for her,” Monty mutters.
“You’re great, Monty,” says Clarke. “Really.”
“I know. But that doesn’t mean I’m asking Miller out.”
“Okay. But you could.”
“I could,” he agrees. “I’m just not.”
He assumes it’s the end of the conversation, which is true in a limited sense, but Clarke clearly doesn’t forget, because Monty’s been at Miller’s for about three minutes when their phones buzz with a message from Bellamy: Sorry, something came up, me and Clarke are out.
It’s not even a real excuse. They really could have done better.
Miller must agree, because he snorts and tosses his phone aside. “Wow, subtle.”
“You think they’re having sex?”
“Oh, probably. I meant–” He glances at Monty, like he’s thinking it over. “Bellamy’s been telling me to just make a move for weeks. He thinks just because he’s dating his barista crush, everyone else should too. So he probably decided to skip out just so I’d–do this.”
Monty’s mouth goes dry. “Wait, what?”
“No pressure,” he says, with a shrug. “But if they’re not here anyway, we could switch this to a date. Or we can pretend I didn’t say anything and play video games.”
It takes his brain a second to catch up. “Really?” is what he comes out with, and then, “I mean, um. Can we do both?”
“Both what?”
“Video game date? Like–we’re on a date, but we’re still playing video games. Is that something you’re into?”
Miller smiles. “Yeah, Monty. That’s exactly what I’m into.”
“Oh. Wow. What are the odds?”
“Pretty shitty,” Miller says. “We must be lucky.”
Monty can’t stop grinning. “Yeah, we must be.”
*
He makes Clarke a coffee when she shows up for her shift the next morning. “I’m not saying I forgive you,” he says. “But I no longer want to murder you.”
“Cool.” She raises the cup. “To customer crushes?”
“To customer boyfriends,” he corrects, and she grins.
“Even better.”
