𝙼𝚒𝚕𝚘 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝙾𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜/𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜

𝟷 - 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎

Hey y'all, real quick before we get into this. I'm not usually a fanfiction-writing type of lady, but I needed to do something creative, and I know a lot of people wish there were more Milo fanficitions. Warning though, I haven't written anything except academic essays in a while, so it may be a little rough.

Enjoy!

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Summary: You get hired at the Smithsonian Institute in the same department as Milo, and you became very close. You like him more than just a friend and finally confess.

[Characters are kinda thrown around, don't worry if they're not in their usual job/realm but just work with it lol]

Y/N: your name
H/T: home town
H/C: hair color
E/C: eye color
I also put 'M(x)' in place of Mr/Ms or whatever you're comfy with to keep it as gender neutral as I can. Let me know if there's any mistakes with gendered terms!

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

You stared at the large brick building in front of you, your nerves building. You had just moved to Washington DC from (H/T). You've been here for about a week, preparing for your new job at the Smithsonian Institute, and it's been very stressful and overwhelming. Of course this was one of your biggest accomplishments, but you couldn't help feeling some doubts and anxiety before walking up the wide staircase to the entrance. As you stepped inside, you shifted your backpack and tried to fix your hair before going up to the front desk. You stood in front of an older woman who was speaking to someone on the phone.

"Oh yes, I understand..." you listened to her as she puffed cigarette smoke in your direction. She sounded annoyed and her voice was raspy. She caught sight of you and her mood seemed to lighten. "I see, but unfortunately I have matters to attend to, so you can call back anytime." She hung up the phone and motioned for you to come closer.

"You must be (Y/N L/N). We've been expecting you," she said, looking you up and down as you nodded. You would have spoke but your mouth was too dry from the nerves. "You couldn't have come at a better time, I've been dealing with that same salesman all morning. Some people just can't take no for an answer."

"Oh, um, I'm glad I could help," you said finally, laughing awkwardly and fidgeting with your sleeve.

"I'm Wilhelmina Packard. I suppose you need help getting where you're going," she said, and you couldn't help sensing her harsh tone. Before you could respond, she stood up and gestured for you to follow.
You followed her down the long hallways, which you couldn't help wondering how you weren't going to get lost in. You were in shock with how huge the place was. You had only ever seen pictures, but it couldn't have prepared you for what it was actually like. Mrs. Packard led you to two tall wooden doors, which she knocked on, then began walking away.

"Good luck kid, you're going to need it," she said while cackling.

You had to admit, that stressed you out even more. You wiped your palms on your shirt, just in time for a short old man to open the doors.

"Ah, yes, M(x). (L/N), so good to meet you," the old man said, grabbing your hand and shaking it aggressively. "You can call me Mr. Whitmore."

"Hello," you said, smiling. Your voice was shaking a little. "It's good to meet you too."

The old man welcomed you into what you assumed was his office, which was just as big as some of the other rooms you had passed on your way, but considerably darker.

"Wow," you whispered. Every wall was filled with bookshelves and maps, and there was a small fireplace in the corner, which seemed to be the only source of light. "This is all your stuff?"