tensions | OFFICE AU

He starts his countdown the moment their laptops snap closed. 2.5 hours, max, he tells himself, glancing down at his digital wristwatch (3 unread messages from Marlow sliding in on the screen, asking about what he should wear for his date with a chilly but beautiful young restaurateur that Monty genuinely thinks, sometimes, might be associated with the mafia). That's how much time he'll stay and chat, cracking somewhat off-color jokes and charming the catering staff. After the first 45 minutes, he'll take his customary smoke break, and then after it hits 10:30 pm, he'll buy a round for everyone within his general vicinity (chump change in the face of his new salary), and then glide out the door, unnoticed, leaving behind only a whiff of his cologne and a very good impression of a smart, ambitious, intense young man.

It's not that he disliked parties (actually, he loved them), but he liked the comfort of a routine. And, more importantly, his privacy. At the very least, he liked to be home at a specific time, with a vinyl on, and a book in hand before the clock struck midnight, and he liked having the space to unwind and become himself again. Cinderella, the other boys on the team called him, jokingly, jabbing him in the ribs with their elbows. What, you have an old ball n' chain back home we don't know about or something? They poke and rib and pry, trying to see through his carefully constructed work persona - a devastating blend of personable, warm, and attentive - and sink their teeth into the mystery of who he really is outside of who he presents himself to be every day from 9-5 pm: their new senior account executive managing pitch work for the agency's highest paying client portfolios. In fact, just last week, Montgomery - "But please, call me Monty. We're all friends here." - won two proposals, totaling 1.5 million in revenue.

So. Everybody knew Monty Quill here. But if asked, no one could really tell you anything solid or specific about him. And he liked to keep it that way.

Presently, they're all at the restaurant down in NoHo and Carter from Engineering was at the karaoke machine, howling a hilarious rendition of Springsteen's 'Born to Run' to which Monty laughs heartily at from his place at the bar, leaning against the hardwood with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the top buttons of his shirt undone in a casual way to accommodate the heat of the gathered crowd indoors, sipping his can of White Claw.

Edited 2022-05-25 17:17 (UTC)

Shifting into the private sector had been something of an adjustment, but now, three years in, Joshua Archer could genuinely say that he had more good things to say than bad. As employers went, the agency provided decent perks, a reasonable level of work-life balance, and a salary that had genuinely surprised him when he compared it to his hourlies back in the service, even with the purported benefits that came with it. The job itself was - mostly incredibly easy, if he had to bluntly characterize it, though he could read the writing on the wall, given the discussions with the higher ups about resource allocation. He had a well-tuned and automatic system for his required shifts on call, and was being given responsibilities on department-wide implementations based on his apparently unusual rapport with the userbase. (Mostly he was just... very good at listening, translating, and visualizing, though whether that was a factor of his linguistics training or his familiarity with orienting himself within 3-D space was up for debate.) By virtue of where he sat, there were so many opportunities to meet new people regardless of seniority or title, that he had acquaintances almost everywhere, regulars who asked for his help specifically when they had issues, rather than go through the usual channels, people he knew by name and profile picture, if not by face, that he made it a point to greet if they happened to run into each other in the building.

One of those regulars was Montgomery 'Monty' Quill.

Josh had been on call for computer refreshes when he'd first on-boarded almost a year ago, and then - wonder of wonders - the brand new machine he'd been issued had developed problem after problem - all waiting until after Quill started working on confidental and proprietary accounts, and therefore had sensitive data on his drive before manifesting, of course, because nothing was simple. The majority of them were simple, easily fixed, but the number of security hiccups and encryption issues that had cropped up had genuinely taxed Joshua's capabilities. His nominal supervisor had been no help - and no matter which group he'd tried to escalate to, a new problem would somehow emerge. Everyone else just shrugged. In the end, after two weeks of resisting the urge to pull his own hair out, he'd taken it upon himself to do a laborious off-hours manual data transfer, then a total wipe and reinstall of each individual operating process and all the software packages. Apparently, that had done it and things had been working smoothly now for almost eight months, even better than brand new, without losing any sensitive files in the process.

There were moments even now, when he wonders why he hadn't just asked Quill to tell his department to submit a requisition form for a new machine, but he had mostly gotten self-delusion out of his system back in the Air Force. He could justify it with those magic words - security risk, data breach - but at least part of it was definitely that Quill had bright blue eyes, charmingly tousled hair, and an incredible smile that had barely flagged even after the fourth or fifth time he'd been given the runaround by some other tech in the department and ended up coming to Josh directly to see if he could eke a few more hours of function out of his machine so he could make it through his next client meeting.

It had been... nice, really, to have the excuse. And they'd at least vaguely kept in touch since then - quick greetings in the Slack, polite inquiries when they happened to run into each other in person (and if Josh knew exactly where Quill's desk was and just 'happened' to swing by there a little more often than was truly necessary when he was between meetings, well, what of it?), and, somehow, help desk tickets that originated from <@ Montgomery.Quill> seemed to get attention and resolution just a little faster than the department average.

Okay, so Josh had just a tiny bit of a crush.

It wouldn't be so bad if half his team didn't suspect. Though the real problem was that said half of the team was incapable of keeping their mouths shut, so now just about the entire team nudged him significantly whenever Quill was vaguely in the vicinity, or made amused comments when his name appeared (luckily very rarely for problems or issues these days, it was mainly scheduled installs, routine security maintenance, and code pushes) in the department queue. It had only gotten worse after the night out at the game, when he'd forgotten he'd mentioned which section he was sitting in in passing to Quill earlier that week and then had to sit there, absolutely not blushing, when Quill had made it a point to 'stop by and say hi' right in front of the subset of the department sitting around him in the same section.

So, here he was, at the office party, trying his absolute best to ignore his officemate, John, who had been relentlessly teasing him the entire night so far. "You should go do a song," he suggests, sounding encouraging and supportive, but grinning like a shark. "You really wowed us at the team-building, man!"

"I don't think my usual repertoire fits the mood right now," he says, dry but polite. He really did like John - he liked most of the team, actually - but this had such a potential to get out of hand. Besides, he definitely didn't have a snowball's chance in hell. He was pretty sure Quill was already dating someone.

In fact, Monty had been dating someone for a few months prior to this very moment. He (Eric, was his name) had been a kind, albeit mercurial man who worked in monetization for a tech giant in the gaming industry and he had pursued Monty relentlessly for two weeks after they crossed paths at a modern production of Romeo & Juliet held in Central Park. Eric was sweet and kind on the eyes and Monty liked him well enough at the beginning: he had a nice laugh, hip taste in music, and pulled Monty's hair just the way he liked it when they fucked in the shower.

But at work, the only hint to the existence of a boyfriend in Monty's life was the sudden appearance of a small trinket - two small stars cast in silver - he had tied to his keys for a little bit ("A gift, for sure." The rumors flew about the office in a swarm. "Nobody buys themselves something that sentimental. It's got to be symbolic." "Do you think it was a coworker?" "No way...it'd be too obvious." "Maybe a client? Can you imagine?" "Totally, but I doubt it. Super risky. Not even I would do that and I'd do practically anything at this point except my ex-wife."). That, and Cindy in Project Management swears she saw Monty's phone screen light up several times with calls from a contact labeled simply as "EC" with a blue heart emoji (but Cindy was well known to say nearly anything for attention, so who knows).

When Monty ended the relationship right around the start of April, (Monty would say it had been mutual but Eric would most definitely disagree), he took exactly one PTO day the week after to recharge and that was that. By Tuesday morning, Monty was back in the office snapping witticisms, overdelivering on presentations, and offering a lighter to the designers who went to stress-smoke on the rooftop. The keychain had also mysteriously disappeared from his keys, though when asked, he would hum softly in reply, feigning confusion and say something gentle like, "Really? Oh, it probably broke off on the subway ride here. I didn't even notice."

So now here he is, his mouth tasting like fake watermelon seltzer, and newly single. And his eyes keep sliding away from the musical debacale happening before them at the front of the room to that one cute blonde guy - Archer, was it? - who works in IT, sitting with a few coworkers barely a foot away in a small, cramped booth, trying very hard not to stare at Monty from above the rim of his glass. Honestly, Monty had a feeling the guy was interested in him from the start (there was no way his Help Desk tickets were going through that quickly in the system after all, someone was definitely pulling the strings for him) but he wasn't sure in what capacity. He knows he's popular at work after all and interest could have a lot of colors and tones. And Monty wasn't about to make a mess of his career by making the wrong assumptions.

But hey, there was nothing wrong with a bit of harmless ~~flirting~~ socializing right?

One of the other guys at the table - John, if Monty remembers correctly - lifts a hand to try to grab the attention of a frazzled waitress and fails. So, Monty decides to throw caution to the wind, approaching them with his signature smile, the one that sparkles up in his eyes.

"Hey," he lifts a hand in loose greeting to everyone present as he speaks, before pausing and looking directly at blondie, "Archer." He gives the man a wink before addressing the rest of the table as a whole again. "Can I get you all something from the bar before I go for a smoke outside? My treat."

Edited 2022-05-25 23:46 (UTC)

He's doing his best to keep his gaze shifted elsewhere, his interest discreet, but then suddenly John elbows him in the ribs (hard enough to bruise, seriously John, what the fuck) and he loses precious time kicking John under the table in retaliation, time he could've spent - figuring out what a normal expression might look like, or busying himself with his drink, or maybe figuring out how to teleport out of this situation - doing something other than gaping and awkwardly touching his side where John's elbow had been dug in when Quill walks over.

Luckily, the rest of the table clamors enough that he doesn't think it's too noticeable how thrown off he was - had Quill winked? was it directed at someone else at the table? But he'd mentioned Josh specifically? - as his brain tries to catch up. But, rather than saying something normal in response - like, say, another beer - what comes out is, "I don't need anything from the bar, but how about a song before you go?"

It’s like the whole table becomes a sudden sinkhole of stunned silence and even Monty isn’t immune to the gravity of what just happened. His smile twitches a little. He’s surprised but also…delighted in some small way.

So he chuckles instead. The sound is warm and melodic and he says, “Well, I’m not much of a singer but, sure. We can’t be any worse than the mess happening up there right now. Hey -!” Monty turns to holler at the guys at the karaoke machine presently, “Pull up Elton John’s Don’t Go Breaking My Heart for me.”

He grins now at Archer, as the mics get offered to them and the intro of the song tinkles in. “You know this one, yeah? It’s a classic.”

Edited 2022-05-26 00:17 (UTC)

The thing about performing karaoke successfully was that it was a very subjective measurement, especially with co-workers as your audience. In Josh's mind, any situation where he could manage to still look people in the eye in a professional setting the next day was good enough. Though, of course, he'd decided to complicate things by spontaneously making this a duet with his work crush (he didn't even know if he could sing?), so he was really playing on hard mode.

Fortunately, Quill was apparently willing to be a good sport and play along, even picking out the song. And once Josh is up on the stage, mic in hand, the backing track playing, he can let himself relax into the swing of things, especially when Quill smiles over at him, seeming utterly at ease. After all, it wasn't really about any particular skill with singing or musicality, so long as you could carry the rudiments of a tune, which Josh could definitely do. It was far more about energy, about performance.

About having fun. Well, he was committed now. No point in wasting the opportunity.

"Yeah, I know it," he replies, offering an answering smile.

It goes... surprisingly well. Better than he would have expected if he'd been told this was in his future when he woke up this morning. There's a brief hiccup at the beginning, trying to read which part the other wanted to take, but once they settle into the music, it's an easy exchange between the different parts, the two of them playing off of each other with unexpected ease. He almost breaks things off accidentally with delighted laughter. For his part, Quill is an excellent partner for the duet, though Josh does almost choke the first time he leans in close for the chorus; luckily he maintains his equilibrium when he gets progressively closer with each subsequent chorus, even pressing up against him physically for the final one.

They get a short but loud smattering of applause - far more enthusiastic than for the previous few performances - and Josh takes his time returning the mic to the stand, to give Quill an opportunity to clear the stage without Josh staring at him awkwardly. He'd said he was going out for a smoke, right?

When he gets back to his table, the rest of the team stares at him in a mix of glee and begrudging awe. "Damn, Archer, who knew you were that smooth?" Calvin gives a low whistle.

"I got footage," John says, holding up his phone, then frowning. "But what the fuck are you doing back here, Josh? Now's your chance." He refuses to get up from his seat to let Josh back into the booth, and the rest of the group catches on immediately, clamoring for him to go put his money where his mouth was. He toys with the idea of just heading home, but he's still feeling antsy, keyed up from the performance, however insignificant it was in the grand scheme of things. It had been fun, right? At least, it seemed like Quill had been having fun as well...

So he grabs his coat, wallet, and phone - to the expected comments from the group - and decides to head for the balcony.

Faint heart never won fair lady, after all. He rolls his eyes at himself as he pushes the door open.

"Hey, Quill," he says, as steadily and evenly as he can make it while half braced to head back inside and then home. "Thanks for indulging me earlier. That was -" too much, pull it back, "really fun."

He glances up from where he's standing on the small, iron balcony, a smooth trail of lilac smoke billowing out from his lips as he smiles. "Just Monty's fine," he offers, his voice warm and welcoming. He taps the cigarette he has held between his fingers - once, twice with a flick of his thumb - and lets the ash fall off into the night.

"And yeah, that was really fun. It's Josh right? Can I call you that? Josh?" He quirks a pleasant brow, as if granting himself the permission.

He takes another long inhale of his cigarette, his hair falling slightly forward into his face as he does so before he pushes it back with his free hand and exhales with distinct satisfaction. "Honestly? I would have said no originally, but I have to admit, the way you asked was," he laughs a little, "pretty smooth. Here, you want a puff?"

"Yeah, you can - um - Josh is good," he says - too quickly - eyes lighting up with obvious excitement, smiling and blushing a little at the teasing rejoinder. Not so smooth now, was he? But it didn't seem to be actively putting Qui- Monty off, at least, and Josh was definitely inclined to take his victories where he could find them.

"Thanks," he says, and dips his head to close the slight difference in height between them, wrapping his fingers gently around Monty's wrist and bringing the end of the cigarette to his own mouth, inhaling expertly before his fingers uncurl, reluctantly, from around Monty's wrist. He had no intention of being confrontational, but he can't seem to pull his eyes away from their briefly shared gaze.

"Are you heading home after this?" He asks, forcing himself to turn, to face the railing and lean against it, keeping his focus forward, as though he were casually staring out at the cityscape, rather than Monty, standing right beside him.

He didn’t expect this at all, the way Josh gently grabs his wrist, inhales around the cigarette he’s holding out for him. Monty feels his heartbeat suddenly quicken as he catches himself staring when the smoke finally clears; he wonders if Josh could feel it, the sudden and quick thrum of Monty’s pulse underneath his fingers at that very moment.

“I was,” he says, leaning too against the railing but not turning away from the man before him. “And if you keep being so cool, Josh, I’m going to have no choice but to take you home with me.” A pause as his smile quirks playfully before he breaks into an absurd little laugh, the same one that echoes around all the time at the office.

“I’m kidding.”

Monty finds himself focusing on Josh’s mouth now and as much as he thinks he should look away, he doesn’t. This close, he realizes the other man is truly, very handsome. He had winsome, warm, eyes that seemed to glow with flecks of gold and thick, sun-kissed hair that Monty briefly, idly, thinks about running his fingers though (but he doesn’t. Of course).

Oh and his arms. Yeah, those biceps were to die for.

Monty, though, keeps all of these observations to himself for the moment as he sucks hard on the cigarette in his hand and tilts his head back a bit, pale throat exposed as he blows one last plume up gracefully into the sky.

“How about you?” He asks. “I don’t normally see you at these socials, come to think of it.”

"Hm," he doesn't squeak, by way of acknowledgement of Monty's joke, and then he shrugs, trying his best to maintain his composure. "I'll settle for taking your number home with me, if you think I'm so cool," he says, tilting his head winsomely, making it clear he was interested, and just hoping he didn't look too desperate.

"I'll probably be heading back too, in about half an hour," he agrees. "I'm more of a books and tea at home in the evenings kind of person, but these are fun, once in a while." He doesn't say that his team had basically strong-armed him into coming on the basis that 'Quill's definitely gonna be there!' and the prospect had been tempting enough that it had, you know, worked. "I really don't know how the rest of my team has the energy," he says with a slight laugh. "But then, I graduated from college before I was legal, so I probably just missed out on building up the stamina."

Huh. Monty's curiosity perks up and he tilts his head a bit, studying the man before him. "Sure. Here, give me your phone."

He enters his info simply: MQ, 617-555-0152, and in the notes section, a single lyric from the song they just sang together - the title, in fact. He's not sure what compels him to do that, but he hands the phone back without a second thought afterwards.

"And that's funny," he says, immediately after, dropping the finished cigarette to the floor and tamping it out with the tip of his shoe. He considers saying nothing more, or at least something generic, but decides against it, revealing just a sliver of his real self instead by continuing with: "I'm the same. You'll have to tell me what you've been reading lately. I could use some recs."

A beat settles between them, comfortable. Down on the street, the sleepy wail of sirens wheedles over somewhere from Uptown and the city lights shine like so many tiny rhinestones, bursting with possibility.

Monty checks the time. "Well, I'll see you back in there then." But he starts to walk, he stops to turns and look at Josh over his shoulder with a wry smile. "Text me if you get bored."

Josh decides to take him at his word.

It was (not) surprising how often, exactly, Joshua Archer was bored to the point where the application of a random text to Montgomery Quill's personal number seemed to be exactly what the doctor ordered (more than a few of his friends and acquaintances would be rather offended if they knew how often he had been thinking that over the next few weeks). And it wasn't that he was truly bored, actually. Just that - well, there were a lot of times where having a line of communication open with Monty really seemed to improve a given situation for him.

He does his best to keep things low-key and professional. He didn't often text during work hours anyway. But it wasn't long before they were both keeping up a rather lively conversation when neither of them were on the clock - book recommendations, random comments, links to interesting events and outings in the area, a few somewhat scathing but always entertaining recountings of the first or second dates Monty had gone out with recently (a gift horse he was definitely not going to look in the mouth). Towards the end of the first month, Josh had invited Monty on a few public outings - a nearby bar with good reviews for happy hour, a weekend street festival, nothing that really screamed romantic in context - and it was all surprisingly comfortable and fun. They seemed to click enough, the casual friendliness of their previous work dynamic carrying over easily, even as Josh started to get glimpses of what Monty was like when he wasn't at work, where he was equally at home with cajoling co-workers or reeling in clients as the situation seemed to demand. In private he was a little more sarcastic, had a hilarious but decidedly inappropriate-for-work sense of humor, his smile more genuinely amused than deliberately charming.

By the end of two months, Josh feels pretty thoroughly entrenched in their more-than-acquaintance, and he's not sure if he should just be happy with what they had - a pretty solid friendship, if he had to characterize it - or whether it was worth pursuing something more. Monty was responsive to Josh's overtures, kind, and a fun and enthusiastic partner - whether for conversation or just randomly exploring, and he's pretty sure by now that he enjoyed Josh's company (even if he always took a moment to do a little introspection with each report back regarding Monty's forays into the local dating scene).

But Monty was clearly interested in dating, seemed to be looking for some kind of relationship. Why shouldn't Josh give it a try?

(Well, the whole co-workers thing. But they were in completely different departments and had managed to keep things pretty professional and compartmentalized this entire time. There were definitely other co-workers engaged in far more scandalous flirtations. Not that this was a flirtation. Yet.)

Are you doing anything this weekend? There's a group cooking class in your area that I've been meaning to try out.

My treat, if you're able to join.

If not, maybe I can still stop by your place after with the results? It'll definitely be more than I can eat alone.

Edited 2022-05-26 19:52 (UTC)

That sounds fun, but I have something during the day.

Feel free to stop by after though. Can’t wait to see what you whip up.

I should be home by 2 pm. Just press the buzzer at the door for the 5th floor.

Monty doesn’t know when he started to feel excited to see Josh’s name (saved only as J with a music note emoji next to it) pop up on his phone screen and he’s not sure when their casual chatting became more in-depth, more affectionate and heartfelt, when texts went from just a few words to three or four paragraphs. It was pretty obvious: Monty realized very quickly that he liked being friends with Josh like this. He liked being around him, talking to him for hours at a time, being vulnerable with him, making him laugh.

And he would be lying if he said he didn't...think about it. That is, think about pursuing something more with Josh. He was a good man - an incredible friend - that much was for sure, and Monty can't imagine he'd be any worse as a partner, a boyfriend (why does thinking about that word in this context make his heart skip?). This man with the ever helpful grin, steeped in endless kindness. This man who had, somehow, consistently made himself subtly present in so many parts of Monty's life over the past few months. This man who looked at Monty like he really, truly saw him. Yes, Monty would be delusional to deny ever wanting to ask for something more, to kiss Josh, to touch him in a more intimate way, to shove his hand down between his thighs and -

...Fuck.

By the time Josh arrives and climbs the narrow stairs of the quaint, Greenpoint townhouse to the top floor, Monty's already been preoccupied with these errant fantasies for hours, stressing over this specific question and whether or not the risks of moving forward (reckless, definitely, right?) would outweigh the benefits (because there would clearly be benefits, I mean, just look at the guy). And by the time they settle on the couch together to eat, an old French vinyl playing softly in the background, Monty realizes he's surprisingly on edge, nervous even. And he can't seem to shake it.

Edited 2022-05-27 02:34 (UTC)

He'd brought a bottle of wine and picked up strawberry shortcake from one of the bakeries that happened to be on his way to Monty's place to go along with the really quite excellent paella. The class had taken a lot longer than he was expecting, but he thinks the effort was worth it, as he crunches on a piece of the crispy layer of socarrat, spread unevenly throughout the rice since he'd had to disturb it when packing it up. The rice had lost a bit of its freshness in transit, but he was still pretty happy with it. He glances sideways at Monty, curious about his reaction, even though what he says, lightly, is: "I don't think I've heard this rendition before." He hums a moment, taking a second to parse the quiet French lyrics, just barely audible, before he scoops up another mouthful of rice.

Charming. That’s the word, Monty thinks, as he gazes sidelong at Josh and considers him carefully.

The man is just so goddamn charming.

He takes another bite of the rice, humming in satisfaction, just the softest little moan of joy. “This really is pretty good. I’m a terrible cook, truly awful in the kitchen, so I’m honest to god impressed.”

Edited 2022-05-27 02:59 (UTC)

"Well, it's a lot easier when they provide you all the ingredients and equipment and measurements," he says with a laugh - a genuine one, but mostly to cover up the way he almost chokes on hearing that little moan of pleasure, on the way his brain almost immediately decides to suggest a few other potential contexts where he might hear a few more of those satisfied noises - okay, rein it in...

"The dorm kitchen broke down for about a few weeks during one of my semesters abroad and I had to get really good at using the hot plate. But that doesn't really cut it for making something like this." He sets down his mostly empty bowl on the table. "I can do the dishes before I get out of your hair?" He offers, but there is a hopeful, interested tone in the polite statement. "Not sure if you already had plans for the rest of your evening."

Edited 2022-05-27 03:08 (UTC)

“What are you talking about?” He blurts out before he even notices what he’s saying, “Stay.”

Their eyes meet and Monty hopes his blush isn’t too obvious even though he swears he can feel his face heat up. He opens his mouth again, trying to figure out how to lighten this statement, but no additional words come to him immediately. His brain scrambles.

“I mean. You came all this way.”

He smiles bright, lighting up with obvious excitement. "Oh. Oh. Well, I can't say I wasn't trying to angle for an invitation. You're sure I won't be disrupting if I stay longer?"

He feels almost giddy, watching Monty try to figure out what to say. It's...nice to know that he's not the only one who enjoys being in their shared company, who was hoping the evening wouldn't be over already, after his excuse of food was over and done with.

“Not at all.” He smiles again and leans back in a bid to force his body to relax against the couch.

Briefly, Monty considers admitting to Josh that he had actually cancelled on a date so that they could have the time together tonight but in hindsight he wasn’t sure if that made things way too obvious.

He shifts on the couch, his arm braced against the top of the back cushion, turning a little so he's facing Monty, sitting slightly sideways.

"So, what happened with that guy you were meeting on Wednesday? Brandon-something. Are you going to see him again?"

He seems to automatically shift closer to Josh now, noticing just how easy it would be to fit right into the space his open arm creates.

“Oh him? Not if his wife can help it.” Monty sighs, dramatically and turns to look at Josh, amused. “I keep attracting the worst ones apparently. My dating profile just screams: I’m obsessed with red flags.”

Edited 2022-05-27 15:33 (UTC)

He laughs and groans at the same time. "Wow that's... huh. That's a shame, it sounded like you had a pretty good time with him. But..." He hesitates, really not sure what tone to strike for the rest of the comment; in the end he just goes for broke. "So are you actually seeing anyone else? Seriously, I mean."

There’s a tender moment of tension between them as Monty tries to consider what’s really being asked. He says, carefully, “Right now? No.”

A pause. “How about you? Come on, tell me.” He leans forward with a playful grin, trying constantly to lighten the mood, to ease them continually into the safe boundaries of friendliness even though his heart is suddenly pounding. “What even is your type?”

"Ah - well, I'm flexible, really," he says, with a slightly awkward laugh, unable to look away from Monty as he leans in, finding himself matching his approach. "I haven't gone on any dates in a few months now but..." He glances up at Monty, directly. "I'd kind of like to be. Dating someone, I mean."

He pauses, and then laughs again, shaking his head. "Okay I should just come right out and ask. Would you want to? Date me, I mean. I just... it's been really great, getting to know you the past three? almost four months now. And. Well. If you wanted to, maybe we could try it out?"

“Yes,” he says, far too quickly, cutting off the rest of what Josh was about to finish asking. His blush inks down to the hollow of his throat when he realizes how…eager his answer had been, and it’s not helping things that the two of them are sitting so close together and Josh’s mouth is looking like that and -

“Yes, I’d really like that,” he reiterates though his voice is now pitched a little softer, a little lower because somehow their faces are in such a position that if either of them so much as tilted forward they’d certainly kiss.

He blinks a moment, his lips slightly parted, staring into Monty's eyes, holding still and careful. "It's... been a really long time since I last dated someone seriously, like, for any more than three or four dates," he confesses. "I'm a bit out of practice, I think. And...I really like you, Monty. I want things to work out for us, even if - even if maybe we decide we're better off as friends."

He takes a deep breath. "So... is it...okay with you if we take things a little slower?" He can't help thinking back on the surprisingly long list of people Monty's dated even in just the time they've been getting to know each other. How often Monty casually dropped comments about their sleeping habits, or their game, as it were. He doesn't mind that history by any means, but he knows it's definitely not his own style. And maybe it was better to just be up front about that. Monty was an adult. He could decide whether he wanted to pursue anything with Josh after all.

“Oh.” He blinks. The mood shifts. Monty pulls back, only slightly embarrassed. “Yeah. Definitely.”

He understands why Josh might be asking for this, especially after all Monty’s told him about the various notches on his bedpost, so to speak. He briefly wonders if he should defend himself, if he should try and make it clear that this time it’d be different, that he isn’t looking to just mess around (even if he has had a track record of pursuing physical relationships for months now). But why bring all that weight now? The start of a relationship isn’t any place for any of that.

“So,” he says, as causally and lightly as possible, “to kick this off, I think you should ask me out this weekend, don’t you?”

"Next weekend, if that works for you," he corrects, laughing a little bit, clearly ready to shift past any awkwardness. "I need a little more time and I want to make it special. Besides, we still have the dessert I brought to share, unless you're changing your mind about kicking me out?" He says it teasingly, clearly trying to make it easy for Monty whichever choice he did end up making.

OFFICE AU

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