#we have this hc that monty adopts all the special cases

[kiruuuuu]

Yet more Montagne/Bandit in which Bandit turns into a hissy cat and goes mountain climbing (thank you @zer0kaji 💝) because @magehir requested Bandit being jealous. This is a two-parter, with the second part coming (heh) either tomorrow or the day after! (Rating T, humour/fluff, ~2.3k words)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

.

Montagne is talking to Fuze.

It’s a bit like looking into a mirror and Bandit decidedly doesn’t like what he’s seeing: the Uzbek’s resting bitch face not moving an inch as the tall Frenchman cheerily chews his ear off, both of them eating lunch away from everyone else at the end of one of the tables in the canteen, away from both the GIGN and the Spetsnaz, oddly enough. Normally, all the Russians stick together like mutated glue in that it can drink, hurl insults and laugh deafeningly, so seeing only one of them is decidedly strange. A little like spotting a lone porkling in the wild, even with the authenticity of a threat attached to it: the looming danger of its mother bursting out of the nearest shrub to smash faces. Still, Tachanka’s booming voice is directed at only two of his boys today.

He sits down and watches the odd couple suspiciously while pretending to be interested in whatever lame story Blitz is trying to tell him right now, nodding and huffing at the correct moments yet his gaze unwaveringly fixed on a vaguely uncomfortable-looking Fuze opposite of a smiling Montagne. It’s probably how Bandit looked in the beginning whenever the Frenchman (his lover, he corrects himself, still stunned at this reality, and barely manages to suppress a cringe when his brain helpfully supplies: his boyfriend) initiated a conversation with him: pained, disbelieving, sometimes even annoyed. He knows now it mostly stemmed from embarrassment upon Montagne knowing about some of his weaknesses while all Bandit had heard about his tall colleague was praise upon praise, so there was a certain power imbalance with which he was far from alright. It didn’t matter that Montagne didn’t know any details, him simply choosing to keep him company because he sensed Bandit needed it was enough.

So now he’s squinting at Fuze. Because he looks exactly like Bandit used to and hey, where did he end up? In Montagne’s bed. Faint nausea rolls over him and destroys what little appetite he initially had and with it gone, nothing keeps him at the table anymore. Ignoring Blitz’ questions as he wordlessly gets up to leave, he squeezes in past Montagne, drags his chair unnecessarily close and presses his side against his lover’s while fixing Fuze with a cool gaze which is returned just as coldly. “Hey”, he says and does his best not to sound bitchy right away because he’s not, definitely isn’t, merely curious, “what are you two talking about?”

Montagne remains blissfully oblivious to the glare the other two are exchanging and answers readily with a self-deprecating chuckle: “I was just telling him of my days as a piano player and before you ask, no, I never really got any good at it.”

Oh. Bandit didn’t even know he used to play the piano. But now Fuze knows and he even knew before him and his eyes narrow further. “Interesting”, he says neutrally, “I wanna get a soda, want to come with me?”

Under all other circumstances, Montagne would jump up immediately at the mere mention of soda – it’s his guilty pleasure (well, one of them, since Bandit supposes he counts as one) and he’s enthusiastic about doing anything as long as it can be done in Bandit’s presence… only right now, he hesitates. Throws a questioning glance to Fuze who looks like he literally couldn’t care any less about them leaving. “I’m not done eating though, can’t you -”

“No. Let’s go.” And as Bandit rises, basically dragging Montagne with him, he thinks he sees Fuze’s lips twitch.

.

“Why are you talking to Fuze?”, Bandit demands to know once they’ve arrived at the vending machine stocked with a wide variety of unhealthy, fizzy drinks which make Bandit’s stomach hurt and his belches smell terrible.

“Didn’t you hear? He had a fight with Alexsandr yesterday and it was so bad they’re not on speaking terms right now. And since the other two basically worship the ground Alex walks on -”

“That still doesn’t answer my question”, he insists, much to Montagne’s surprise. Bandit rarely pries and hardly ever shows any interest in other people’s personal affairs.

“I didn’t want to leave him sitting all alone. Alex is not going to get mad at me for it and everyone deserves some company, don’t you think?”

This is when it hits him. Montagne is a fucking bleeding heart. He sees stray dogs and adopts them, just like he adopts stray operators apparently – this explains why there was a phase in which Montagne hung around with Mute, right in the beginning when the young Englishman made next to no attempts to befriend anyone.

Another revelation dawns on him. Does this mean -

“Am I a fucking charity case?”, he wants to know disgustedly. “Is that what this is?”

Montagne seems thoroughly confused now which is understandable as Bandit might potentially be jumping to conclusions faster than Montagne can watch. “Dom, please, what are you talking about?” Trying to put it into words would make him seem not only insane but also bitter, so he decides not to elaborate despite the nagging feeling gnawing at him. He mutely turns to the machine, punches a number in without looking and shoves a few coins into the slot, only to be graced with a can dropping filled with stuff he can’t stand. Worst of all, Montagne knows this. For a few seconds, Bandit tries to make the soda spontaneously combust with the force of a dark look alone while Montagne probably regards him with this stupid fucking look he often gets when he thinks Bandit is being unreasonable and he is not, thank you very much, far from it because what if it’s all over once Montagne deems him integrated enough, just like he did with Mute once he befriended the disaster that is the rest of his team, and Bandit’s hands are getting cold now from holding the can and all he wants to do is punch Fuze’s ugly face in.

“Talk to me”, Montagne asks softly in that tone of voice which conveys he’s not going to judge and Bandit hates it because he never does. He doesn’t judge. He never discards Bandit’s mood swings as unreasonable or immature.

“Why do you like me?”

The words leave his mouth faster than he can scold himself for even thinking them yet they hit their mark, smooth Montagne’s expression because now he knows what he’s dealing with and can react accordingly. Regardless, his answer is not very reassuring: “I don’t know.”

“Wow”, Bandit replies sarcastically. Way to fill him with confidence.

“I wasn’t finished.” Smiling, Montagne mercilessly exploits his weakspot by reaching up to lightly scratch his beard, card his fingers through the coarse hairs and reduces Bandit to an almost-drooling mess in seconds. “I don’t have a simple answer for you, I’m afraid, but I just know that I do. Every room feels different to me when you’re in it. Watching you fall asleep next to me, on me, in my arms, has become the highlight of my day. And I’m happy about every second I get to spend with you. I can’t put into words why, though.”

Bandit blinks at him, pleasant sensations washing over him and making both his anger and his worry disappear effortlessly. He tries finding an answer for himself, why exactly he adores this man in front of him so much, yet only comes up with an earth-shattering feeling of deep-seated affection with which he’s afflicted in moments like these. Because you’re you, he thinks and leans into the gentle strokes over his cheek. “This is unfair”, he mumbles, making Montagne snicker and pull him into a quick hug he allows only because they’re half-hidden behind the vending machine. “You can have my fucking soda if you want it.”

“Gladly”, Montagne replies, amused, takes it and holds Bandit’s hand until it’s warmed up.

.

Montagne is talking to Fuze. Again.

They’ve just finished their physical training for the day, jumped, climbed and crawled their way through an obstacle course, ran until their muscles were on fire and even had to swim. Bandit doesn’t mind the exertion as it more often than not allows him to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep later yet he can’t deny he’s starting to feel his age – especially when he watches Rook ace the course with ease. He used to be very agile and extremely good at running but lost his touch a little (and if that isn’t ironic because running is most of what he seems to do these days), often lying to himself about picking up jogging again despite never following through. Right now, he’s comfortably exhausted and looking forward to maybe trading massages with Montagne, possibly dozing off to his broad hands kneading his shoulders and the thought alone makes a fluttery feeling rise in him.

Then he spots them, off to the side, Fuze actually having taken off his shirt and wiping his sweat off with a towel while Montagne talks at him with an oblivious friendliness – seemingly unaware of the way the Uzbek displays the muscles on his strong frame. But Bandit notices. Oh does he notice. He storms over with a scowl and just barely resists colliding with Montagne, keeping the momentum going and simply dragging him off.

“- more flexible, I’d suggest stretching regularly as it does indeed help”, the Frenchman finishes his sentence just as Bandit arrives and what. What kind of topic -

“Are you talking about how Fuze can’t even scratch his own back without dislocating half of his limbs?”, he butts in, shooting Fuze a dark look and earning a vaguely pained one from Montagne in return.

“Not everyone can be a lanky piece of shit like you”, Fuze replies politely.

“Being thin doesn’t have anything to do with being flexible”, Montagne interjects but stops talking as soon as Bandit starts bending his body to prove a point, reaching over his shoulder with one arm and around his back with the other, effortlessly hooking his fingers together. He does not miss Montagne’s intrigued expression and preens under his gaze, shows off a few more things and ignores Fuze’s growing amusement.

“Seems like those yoga lessons really paid off. Though you don’t seem all that enlightened to me.”

“You shut your whore mouth”, Bandit hisses and doesn’t manage to get the reactions he’s hoped for as Fuze is starting to grin now and Montagne looks almost shocked.

“Dom, if you’re tired, maybe you should call it a day”, he suggests hesitantly and it’s very clear he’s trying to keep the conversation civil.

A thought occurs to him and instead of protesting vehemently, he nods. “You’re right, I’m absolutely knackered, I can barely stand. Oh God am I tired. How am I even still awake?” He leans against his lover with enough force to make him take a step back, then swoons dramatically to which Montagne, as expected, puts his arms around him. “I don’t think I can actually make it back to my room. How about you carry me instead? Would you do me the favour? Otherwise I’ll probably faint on the way.”

Concern bleeds into Montagne’s confusion and he agrees, probably wondering why Bandit won’t allow him to hold his hand in public but carrying him is somehow okay, and so Bandit climbs on him, hugs him tightly and wraps his legs around his waist possessively. After a friendly goodbye, Montagne makes his way towards their quarters and Bandit can’t help but glare at Fuze over his boyfriend’s shoulder and give him the finger.

Fuze just snorts and rolls his eyes as if Bandit was a rebelling teenager.

.

“Why are you still talking to Fuze?”, he wants to know later in bed and no, he’s not pouting, he’s above that.

Montagne rolls onto his side, props himself up on one elbow and smiles down at him like the benevolent being he is, even reaches out with his other hand and lets it wander over Bandit’s chest, his warm palm travelling over his ribs, his abdomen and his sides, unknowingly making something further down twitch hopefully. Despite Bandit trying to push his hand lower through mere thought, it never dips into his underwear. “I enjoy his company. He’s gruff on the outside and may favour questionable methods, but he’s a good man.”

“He’s a fucking asshole”, Bandit objects and realises too late. Once again, he’s being mirrored and he doesn’t like it in the least. “Look, I have nothing against you talking to him -”

“It appears that you do.” Montagne is still smiling, still stroking over his skin. “You don’t need to be friends with him, I don’t expect you to.”

Is that what Montagne thinks is going on? He frowns and scoots a bit closer, stretches towards the tall man with the soft eyes and lets his own fall shut when they lock lips. It helps but ultimately does little to soothe the worry eating at him, even when Montagne leans over him, a comforting weight against his body and their kiss slow and intimate. He resolves to kill Fuze should he ever ask to borrow Montagne’s jacket.

He purrs into his lover’s mouth when he’s pulled closer, his dick (which has been hard ever since they went to bed, always is, always hopes for Montagne’s touch, for more) jumping enthusiastically at the gesture but when he pushes his hands under Montagne’s shirt, he’s stopped with a touch to his wrists. “I don’t want to tire you out”, Montagne murmurs and kisses his cheek, “if you can’t even walk back to your room, you should sleep as soon as possible.”

Now Bandit is pouting, the scowl on his face fierce even when they’ve found a comfortable position to sleep in because in his head, he’s cursing Fuze colourfully. Even when he knows he basically played himself.