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post-crash Lost and Found (219)

1 .

SERVER CRASH NUUUUUUU D8

Okay kinder, I know you've all saved some of the glorious fic that decorated these boards only a short time ago. This is the place to post what you've got (crediting the original author, of course) and/or request that the fics you miss the most be reposted.

WE CAN REBUILD IT. WE HAVE THE TECHNOLO*falls down stairs*

2 .

This is all I've got of miarr's glorious Medic/Scout medfic, "Phenomology." I know there's another part somewhere, and I'd be very grateful if someone posted it.
-----


Phenomenology


EXPERIMENT NO.001


“Interesting,” said Medic, and adjusted the nipple clamps.

“Mother fucker,” Scout panted, or something like it; the gag was quite a good muffler and besides, he was not very coherent. His eyes looked glazed, dark and half-lidded, though physiologically speaking this could have been for any number of reasons. Medic had a suspicion the cloth had soaked up a small measure of chloroform. Not a lethal amount; merely enough to dull some of the pain. Regrettable, but not overly significant in the general course of events.

He ran a hand down Scout’s flat stomach and pressed two fingers against the femoral artery, adjacent the groin. His pulse was so fast that the heartbeats nearly blurred together, like the thrumming of a high-caliber engine. Scout gave a small gasp, hips bucking, and clenched his hands in their bindings. His thighs trembled beneath Medic’s glove.

Responsive, Medic noted, though he didn’t pause to write it down. The procedure was strictly empirical. Scout was shaking all over in tiny, shuddering spasms, flushed and sweating, groaning low in his throat. The restraints stretched him out on the examination bed, arms spread wide and feet tied to a spreader bar above head level for better access. It had been quite a stroke of luck, to find the old thing in his stock. Medic wasn’t sure how efficient the arrangement would have been otherwise.

It was superbly efficient now. He took hold of the vibrator, buzzing steadily, and pushed it deeper, thrusting in then out—a strong rhythm, granting no quarter. Scout actually keened, high and needy, like an animal pushed beyond its limits.

Fascinating.

When he finally released the cock ring, Scout climaxed immediately and messily, all over his stomach and Medic’s hand. He made several noises, similarly muffled by the gag, and by the time it was over could only lie slack in his bonds, shivering, though with less intensity than previously evinced. His heart rate took some time to return to normal levels, and even then he remained flushed, most distinctly in areas of the neck and face.

It was quite an attractive sight, in all frankness; certainly more appealing than Scout’s usual idiocy. A compelling instance of medicinal examination, as well. Medic undid the restraints—though he left the gag, along with the clamps—and made a note to induce the condition more frequently in the future.





EXPERIMENT NO.002


The next time, Medic took care to keep away unwanted substances and sterilized all his instruments beforehand. As expected, without chloroform Scout retained a greater deal of his sensory perception, as well as increased awareness of his surroundings. Consequentially, he responded much more directly to stimulus.

“You freakin’ son of a bitch,” he said, and strained against the bonds. Medic had foregone the gag in favor of obtaining more verbal input; he had confidence things would not get too loud. Behind him was a syringe with a sedative, just in case, but this was a perfunctory caution and had slim likelihood of actually being used.

At the present moment both heart rate and breathing were normal, though Scout was already flushed a bright red. Presumably this was an inherent predisposition.

“If you vould stop struggling, please,” Medic said, looking up from double-checking the last of his listed variables. It was critical to maintain detailed records of the procedures, to avoid later unexplained discrepancies in the data. “Ze restraints are quite sound, and you vill only tire yourself.”

“I could do that,” Scout replied. “Or, here’s a thought! You could untie me, you sick fuck.”

“Name-calling vill get you nowhere,” Medic said calmly. “And ze shackles are more for your protection zan mine.” This was not strictly true, since Scout chained down was generally safer for everybody, and spared Medic from having to deal with his thrashing. Besides, the visual had a certain aesthetic value which Medic thought was important to incorporate in his work. True men of science recognized that beauty and knowledge were closely linked.

There was much knowledge to be gleaned from these experiments. Medic swabbed the inside of Scout’s elbow, stretched facing upwards on the examination cot, then picked up a particular syringe. Scout’s eyes widened with recognition: he was already familiar with it from their previous sessions.

“Aw, shit,” he said. “Not this again. Why can’t you have sex like a normal person instead of sticking that freakin’ crap in my—”

His breath hitched loudly as Medic injected him with the formula, directly to the cubital vein. It was the same spot he’d used last time—luckily, needle marks showed up strongly on Scout’s skin. Then Medic stepped back, activated his pre-set timer, and very carefully observed.

By fourteen seconds, Scout already began showing signs of quickened breathing, more blood rising to his skin. By thirty-nine seconds his struggles had increased markedly and he was making breathless, frustrated sounds, flushing all over. By forty-one seconds he had taken to rubbing against the bedding, bordering on desperation, and sweating more profusely than room temperature allowed for. No more than one minute and six-point-two seconds after the initial injection, Scout’s penis reached a fully erect state—and, as a nice touch, he’d accidentally let slip “Medic, please” in between gratuitous cursing and insults to Medic’s national heritage.

Medic stopped the timer and set it aside. Still over the one-minute mark, but his compounds were undeniably effective, and distillation seemed to be having the desired effect. Perhaps the next batch would be the final variant—then he would have produced the first chemical aphrodisiac powerful enough to trigger complete arousal in less than sixty seconds. A gratifying medical achievement.

“Come on, doc,” Scout whined, and Medic looked him over: lying naked on the cot, fists clenched and legs drawn up, tensed as though to start running. His cock was hard, curving up against his lower abdomen, and his ass bare to the world. He stared at Medic with a mix of hatred and arousal. “Do something, shit, willya just do something already—”

“Very vell,” Medic allowed. Far be it from him to cause any delays in the plan.

The current experiment dealt with the issue of respiratory distress in conditions of heightened physical tension. After affixing the cock ring (to which Scout barely protested anymore—classic Pavlovian training, Medic was proud to say) it was time to bring out the newest contraption.

He’d calculated the dimensions of Scout’s neck earlier, and adjusted the markings on the leather accordingly. As expected, the strap nestled in the hollow of his throat when loose, but rose up at the slightest twitch of the chain. Medic was pleased with the final results. The slip-on collar had been used to train the Rottweilers guarding his previous clinic, but was quite easily re-purposed. He had to make sure not to apply unnecessary pressure except in short intervals, but aside from the imminent danger of strangulation everything was fine.

Scout made some half-hearted remonstrations throughout, mostly using words like ‘fucked up’ and ‘pervert’, but when Medic inserted the first slick finger into his ass, Scout let his head fall back against the cot and moaned, low and rough and wavering.

Latex gloves did not allow for optimal sensory transmission, but he could feel Scout’s tightness, the clenching of his muscles and the way his stomach quivered, as if holding in a breath. His breathing was unimpaired—Medic could hear the short, harsh pants from his mouth—but his posture belied significant nervous energy.

“Take a deep breath,” Medic reminded him when he prepared the vibrator and nestled it right against Scout’s hole, already slick. “I do not vant you hyperventilating—not yet.”

Scout shot him a suspicious look, but then Medic pushed up and in and Scout jerked with his whole body, making a high, needy sound. His hips thrust up and his toes curled reflexively, breath hitching when Medic angled the buzzing vibrator deeper. The tension in his body decreased considerably after that, a by-product Medic had noted several times previously. Speaking from a purely physiological viewpoint, Scout was very well-suited to being fucked.

Breathing was fast and shallow at present, heart rate tolerably accelerated and pulse strong. Medic kept thrusting, upping the rhythm, and when Scout’s mouth fell open to inhale he tugged the chain in his hand.

The collar immediately tightened around Scout’s neck, cutting off his respiratory tract, and Scout gasped uselessly without drawing air. He clawed at the bedding, open-mouthed, and arched slightly off the cot. Medic counted two seconds and released his grip; Scout sank back down and drew in a deep breath, coughing.

“Sehr gut,” Medic murmured. Scout’s neck was long and pale except for the faint red stripe circling it, where the leather had bit in. In times like this he wished he had an assistant at hand, to record his findings with a camera. “Let us try zis again.”

He built a sort of rhythm, cutting off Scout’s breathing at semi-regular intervals, in keeping with his thrusts and the electrical stimulation, which he gradually amplified. Every time Scout would try to take a deep breath, Medic twitched the chain and the collar tightened. In short order Scout began exhibiting signs of disequilibrium and light-headedness, presumably from the lack of oxygen. Symptoms included a rise in the pitch of his voice, involuntary muscular spasms in his hands, and increased perspiration, resulting in a thin sheen of sweat covering his body. His cock was large and flushed, straining against the ring—he was perceptibly nearing his limit.

Medic was fascinated by limits. They were so clearly made to be pushed.

When he reached the highest setting on the vibrator, Medic tugged the chain. Scout made another of his small, choked-off noises, and bucked against his hand. Instead of releasing his grip after a few moments, though, Medic tugged tighter, watching Scout struggle for air. His neck was already covered in abrasions, from the hollow of his throat to the sensitive skin under his jaw. Medic began slowly counting under his breath: eins, zwei, drei...

Scout’s chest began to heave as he tried to force oxygen into his lungs, nostrils flared in alarm. It was no use; his trachea was securely constricted.

Vier, fünf, sechs...

His mouth was open wide, pupils dilated and black, skin damp with sweat. Medic thrust the vibrator in, ruthless, and Scout jerked so hard he nearly unfettered the restrains.

Sieben, acht, neun...

Scout was shaking all over now, spine perfectly arched. He was trying to scream without air.

Zehn.

Medic loosened the slip collar then quickly released the cock ring. Scout inhaled sharply and choked, coming all over himself in thick white spurts.

Several minutes passed.

Scout’s shivering abated incrementally, and his breakneck heart rate returned to normal. It took him a record three minutes to regain voluntary motor functions. The involuntary spasms, Medic was interested to note, lasted much longer—Scout’s fingers kept seizing long after the restraints were unlocked.

His breathing remained ragged for a good while, and his voice had not regained its natural pitch by the time he left the infirmary. Scout’s uniform being casual as it was, the bruises on his neck were highly visible. Medic offered him a bandage to cover the wounds, but was hoarsely rejected.

After Scout had gone, Medic stowed away the slip collar, idly rubbing his thumb over the leather. He wondered how long it would take Scout to recover from the damage to his airways, though it was only superficial. A repeat session might significantly hinder the healing process; on the other hand, it might also help build up cardiovascular stamina. How many repeats would be necessary in order to escalate the damage from acute to irreparable?

Medic smartly uncapped his pen and began to write. Perhaps he ought to explore the subject further. These were questions which begged to be answered—for the sake of science, if nothing else.





EXPERIMENT NO.003


Their next session was long in coming: shortly after Medic finished compiling the data from the previous experiment, the team underwent another increase in operative activity which did away with all free time. Medic was kept too busy for anything except work, which was hardly as intellectually engaging as his recreational pursuits. By the time he met Scout again, Medic was not in the best of moods and more than eager to proceed with his schedule.

His temper improved slightly once the restraints were firmly in place and Scout began exhibiting signs of nervous anhelation. There was no need even for a stethoscope to ascertain this, as Scout’s reactions had been extensively documented during past sessions and Medic was familiar with the data. Scout was a predictable creature, consistently displaying acute tenseness and refusing to relax against the examination table. This was a fairly typical physical condition which marked the beginning of their sessions—as was his current shortness of breath. By the end he was never nearly so composed.

Usually Medic didn’t mind Scout’s anxiety, and even made a point of exacerbating it. Regrettably, this time it would have to be dispelled in order to implement his scheduled plans. He hefted the syringe.

Scout’s renewed struggles were still never entirely for show at this stage; today he put up enough of a fight that Medic had to hold him still with a gloved hand pressed hard to his bare chest. When this proved inefficient, Medic decided to integrate a psychological element from their previous session. He moved up and closed his fingers around Scout’s bare neck.

“Hnnghk—” Scout made a choked sound, struggling to wrench free for Medic’s grip. There were still faint markings from last time, not quite faded yet. Medic squeezed harder to watch the abrasions redden a little. Remarkable. He should conduct a follow-up study, if time allowed in the future.

“Today you are required to remain calm,” he said, and Scout made another cut-off sound, this time incredulous. “I vill demand constant supervision, so you must relax. Begin now.”

Another clenching of his fingers, for good measure, and Medic released him. No sense in causing pre-emptive damage, as it might unduly affect his findings.

Scout lay on the examination table, hoarsely sucking in air and trembling everywhere. Medic noted with acute interest that his fingers were twitching, perhaps a muscle-memory of the seizures from their last session. Definitely a case for a follow-up.

He bared Scout’s forearm—somewhat roughly, to still the shivers—and injecting the formula.

Medic could see Scout’s brows furrow in confusion, before his expression gradually melted into lax neutrality and his whole body began loosening. As much as he regretted the missed opportunity to re-calibrate the compounds of his aphrodisiac, this session called for a muscle relaxant. Medic had his own specialized variant on the standard analgesic which the chemist laboratories produced, as did any self-respecting man of medicine. His was notably more potent, which increased the harm in high dosages; however, Medic found the risk of inducing paralysis in his patients invigorating rather than something to be nervous about.

“Whu... hao...” Scout’s tongue was awkward and heavy, fumbling with the vowels. “What’rye doin’?”

“Simply ensuring zere vill be no disruptions,” Medic said briskly. “Today, ve are being most delicate.”

“Sonova...”

“Merely pragmatic.” Medic peered at Scout over the edge of his glasses, unsmiling. “I cannot risk any of your sudden movements, und today neizer can you.”

“Whas’t mean?”

“You shall see.”

Scout groaned, but weakly; already the muscles of his larynx were relaxed to the point which impeded loud noises. Medic generally approved of this development.

The Dittel sounds were long and straight, made of shining stainless steel. Medic unwrapped them from the sterilized packaging with utmost care. His own gloves had been thoroughly sterilized as well, since one could not be careful enough in this setting. Luckily the urinary tract in a healthy specimen like Scout was very likely clean already, and would need no initial preparation for what he had in mind.

Today’s experiment focused on artificially-induced loss of involuntary muscular control. Logic dictated he focus on those muscles charged with the most sensitive involuntary actions, the internal urethral sphincter being a natural choice. Medic looked forward to witnessing Scout’s reactions to the procedure; he had no doubt they would be quite novel.

Indeed, when he turned back to the examination table, Scout stared at the sound with half-lidded eyes, uncomprehending. His lips were parted, the jaw having trouble clenching or closing fully under the effects of the analgesic.

“Wh...” he tried, and Medic could see him stop to reconsider the use of complete sentences. He was likely experiencing gradual difficulty in forming words. “Cock r’ng?”

Medic favoured him with an appraising look. “Not today,” he said. “However, I vill keep your request in mind.”

Scout tried to shake his head, and could only manage a mild swaying motion. Instead, he settled for: “Fuck’r.”

“Hush.” Medic passed an antiseptic wipe over Scout’s flaccid penis, paying special attention to the tip. “You vill now hold perfectly still.”

The sound gleamed under the fluorescent as Medic took it in one hand, the other curled at the base of Scout’s cock. There was no reaction initially, but when Medic neared one to the other Scout’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Wh—” he started, slurring badly. Medic positioned Scout’s cock and touched the straight tip of the Dittel to his slit. “Hah—s-st—”

“Breathe in deep,” Medic commanded, and pressed carefully, carefully. The tip sunk in, just a fraction, and Scout sucked in a breath so fast that Medic could hear it like a rip in the air. He tried to wrench away reflexively, eyes wild, but all that happened was a faint tremor and his right wrist jerking spasmodically. Medic’s formulas were well-known for their efficiency.

“Exhale now,” Medic said, and waited. Scout breathed out, high and wavering. Medic used the opportunity to adjust his grip fingers on the sound again, and let gravity do the rest, drawing it into Scout’s urethra inch by inch.

“Ah,” Scout said, stretching it out: ahhh going on and on, rising as he inhaled shallowly and dropping in pitch as he exhaled, rough and needy, almost a whine. It took eight seconds for the sound to fully sink into the urethra, the metal disappearing down the slit with maddening slowness. Scout had his eyes tightly shut by the end, though his mouth was open and slack. Medic acted on a hunch and twisted the sound, just a fraction; Scout didn’t move but he choked on something suspiciously like a cry.

It had been wise, choosing the 8mm sound, though Medic had itched to try something with a wider circumference. He wished, abstractly, that he could monitor Scout’s breathing and heart rate, though it was impossible to do without letting go of the sound or moving his hand from the base of Scout’s penis, where it was keeping a steadying grip. It was not absolutely essential; best to focus on the subject at this time.

Scout was sweating profusely, some of it already staining the sheets of the examination table where his hips were pressed flat against the surface. His thigh, bicep, neck, and abdominal muscles were all trying to tense but couldn’t, immobilized as they were by the relaxant. The result was a curious effect which left Scout obviously winded, despite the lack of actual movement. Considering the restraints, he could do nothing but let the sensations affect him—something Medic was quite eager to see.

After a moment of letting Scout catch his breath, Medic spoke. “Ve are now at your external urethral sphincter, directly next to your prostate.” It was for his personal satisfaction than Scout’s sake; Medic had been looking forward to this part. “Remember, at all times remain calm.”

“Yeh,” Scout was about to say something else, probably derogatory, but Medic twitched his fingers slightly and Scout made a sound like he’d been punched in the solar plexus.

“Moth’fu—ahh...” he gasped, trailing off breathlessly, and when Medic repeated the action he almost writhed.

Intriguing. Medic could see Scout’s fingers, wanting to twist and snarl in the sheets but unable to move. He imagined his toes were similarly attempting to curl, to no effect. Scout began showing signs of arousal, among them flushed colour and the stiffening of his cock. A similar sensory reaction, albeit achieved from a different direction than was customary.

Scout was moaning soft and unsteady, sprawled loose-limbed on his back. Medic began stroking with careful precision, watching keenly. To the untrained eye Scout was completely pliant, but his skin felt feverish, even through Medic’s glove. His chest was rising up and down in what, without the analgesic formula, would likely have been genuine respiratory distress. It fit well with the way his cock was hard in Medic’s hand.

They had almost found a rhythm when Medic decided to proceed, and nudged the sound deeper in. Scout froze.

There was some faint resistance, naturally, but it gave way as the Dittel squeezed past the tight ring of muscle. “Inhale, exhale,” Medic reminded him, but Scout did neither; he stared at Medic with panic in his eyes, nostrils flared in alarm. The sound pressed past the external sphincter—responsible for voluntary actions—and when Medic let it push past the internal sphincter, Scout actually whimpered. He squeezed his eyes shut and made a noise like a sob, the tip of his cock swollen and leaking.

A model patient, Medic thought. Scout was now fully conscious, yet helpless in the most comprehensive sense of the word. He was incapable of moving any limb of his body, or even tensing a muscle; if Medic decided to test his gag reflex he couldn’t even close his mouth. Now, with the sound as deep as it would go, he was incapable of controlling his urination. Medic could keep him like this for minutes, hours—even after the relaxant wore off—watching the pressure build until Scout cracked under it. Even his involuntary actions were subject to regulation. He was completely under Medic’s control.

His objective was accomplished. Medic looked at Scout’s expression, open like a bleeding wound, and felt the keen satisfaction of a procedure undergone successfully.

As he withdrew the sound Scout began breathing again, raggedly, as soon as they retreated past the sphincters. Further out and the metal dragged against the prostate again, already sensitized. Scout’s breath hitched then, and the moment Medic removed the sound entirely, he gave a weak cry and ejaculated.

“Excellent,” Medic said, and set aside the sound. He undid the restraints and set about cleaning the work environment, even folding Scout’s clothes in a neat pile on a chair. There was much to be done in the aftermath of the experiment.

He was at his desk and well into the process of documenting his methods when the relaxant wore off sufficiently to allow movement. Scout dragged himself off the examination table and into his clothes, avoiding eye contact. He moved woodenly, fingers clumsy, starting to shake as they regained motor ability. Out of the corner of his eye, Medic clinically noted the long stretch of his neck, faintly bruised; the way he winced when pulling on his pants.

“Mind zat you wait an hour before urinating again,” Medic said, just as Scout was nearly out the door. “Und drink plenty of vater. Zere may be a faint burning sensation; it is to be expected.”

Scout turned to look at him then, and the look on his face surprised even Medic. The only word to describe it was furious. Then Scout went out and the door closed behind him, and Medic was left alone with his work.

He picked up his pen again and continued writing. Already, a part of his brain was planning the next experiment. Medic’s fingers itched at the thought: true science, after all, lay in the empirical research.

3 .

I'm looking for the Sniper/Scout fic "Child Molestee" and I can't remember who the hell wrote it. Anyone got it?

Also TeratoMarty's fic with Medic frothing over Heavy and there is an examination and then Medic privately decides urethral fucking is a good idea? I am so good at summaries.

Also where'd the TeratoMarty lungfucking fic get to?

4 .

Also that series of BLUScout fics
The ones that all start with


ok

ok so


(I am so specific but I'm sure you all know what I mean)

5 .

I'd love to see Strangle Hold get back up here (don't remember who it's by. It's a Spy/ Sniper fic) Also (and yes, I know this one is an oldie) but Detachable Sniper would be a nice fic to get back (I believe it's by TeratoMarty.)

6 .

Reposting Stranglehold by Duck


The BLU Sniper squinted against the late afternoon sun. He was stretched out along the wooden floor of the highest room in the BLU compound, peering down on the battlefield below through one of the two windows. A bead of sweat ran down his scalp to his temple, pausing before it slid down his cheek. The showers would be cool welcome relief after this heavy heat. It had been a slow day so far; the end to an even slower week. Patient man or not, his finger itched for the trigger. Perhaps, he thought, it was time to find a new vantage point.

Sniper had been camping out in this particular room during the daily battles for about a month. It was likely the REDs had caught on, finding ways to navigate outside the range of his deadly riffle. This meant that he would have to scout out new positions after this battle, regrettably postponing his shower, and testing the most promising during the next battle. This was not unexpected, but was unfortunate.


Not unexpected because in the 28 weeks he had spent working for BLU, he had not managed to find a single position the REDs didn’t wise up to eventually. Unfortunate because Sniper had found that this particular location seemed to present some sort of obstacle to the RED Spy. The past month had been hot and cramped, but blissfully stab-free.


Sniper paused his vigil, taking a hand off of his riffle to scratch an itch on his back.

The Red Spy, like all Spies, was a bastard.

He took obvious pleasure in his underhand methods for disposing of his enemies. Sniper was no nancy-boy; fire and bullets he could handle just fine, but he cringed at the memories of waking with a gasp in re-spawn, squirming at the ghostly phantom of a butterfly knife sliding into his back. The Marksman got goose bumps thinking about it.


Sniper’s thoughts were interrupted by a flash of motion in his peripheral vision. He brought his hand back to his weapon and shuffled on his elbows, pivoting the riffle so he could get a better look through the scope. A crooked smile pulled at his dry lips. Speak of the slimy RED devil himself!


Barely peaking out behind a tool shed was the unmistakable flicker of the enemy Spy de-cloaking. As the figure shifted, something metallic glinted at hand level. The spy had the Intel. Maybe that was why he had been careless enough to wander into Sniper’s territory. Cocky little bugger.



As Sniper inhaled, he could feel the rough splinters of the floorboards through the fabric of his shirt,pressing into his belly. The sun had descended just low enough in the sky that he no longer had to squint through the yellow lenses of his glasses. He took careful aim through the scope at the opaque shape of the RED Spy. He exhaled and fired.


The riffle cracked in his ear. An almost physical presence that filled the room but was gone in an instant, leaving only a buzzing in his head. The recoil felt familiar as a lover’s touch against his shoulder. Finally, he thought as he checked the scope to make certain he had hit his target.


But what was this? The Spy was not only still alive and breathing, but making a run for it. The RED was limping across the bridge with the briefcase clutched in one hand and the other pressed high against his thigh. The little worm wouldn't last long, but didn't have to. He was mere yards from safety.


Bloody cloaking device, Sniper thought. Why wouldn’t the fucker just die?


“Not so fast you little wanker,” Sniper hissed under his breath.


His heart leapt as he realized the window was too small to provide a good shot. The Spy was going to get away.


He scrambled to his feet, aware that he was now exposed to the RED Sniper’s line of sight, but too deep in the chase to care. He was a hunter, with the scent of his wounded prey intoxicatingly close.


He lunged to the second window but overshot. His upper-half dangled out in the open like a big blue target. Sniper barely pulling himself back inside as a round from his counterpart buried itself in the window frame where his head had been. It appeared he wasn't the only predator on the hunt.


He took a deep breath and steadied himself on the sill. A second round buried itself next to the first with a thunk that he felt rather than heard, safe behind the wall.


There was no time to steady his racing heart. No time to properly take aim. The RED Spy was almost across the bridge and out of range.


Sniper brought up his riffle and readied it to fire. Relying on years of experience, a brief glance through the scope, and a shit-ton bit of good-old-fashioned luck, he pulled the trigger.
The BLU Sniper squinted against the late afternoon sun. He was stretched out along the wooden floor of the highest room in the BLU compound, peering down on the battlefield below through one of the two windows. A bead of sweat ran down his scalp to his temple, pausing before it slid down his cheek. The showers would be cool welcome relief after this heavy heat. It had been a slow day so far; the end to an even slower week. Patient man or not, his finger itched for the trigger. Perhaps, he thought, it was time to find a new vantage point.


Sniper had been camping out in this particular room during the daily battles for about a month. It was likely the REDs had caught on, finding ways to navigate outside the range of his deadly rifle. This meant that he would have to scout out new positions after this battle, regrettably postponing his shower, and testing the most promising during the next battle. This was not unexpected, but was unfortunate.


Not unexpected because in the 28 weeks he had spent working for BLU, he had not managed to find a single position the REDs didn’t wise up to eventually. Unfortunate because Sniper had found that this particular location seemed to present some sort of obstacle to the RED Spy. The past month had been hot and cramped, but blissfully stab-free.


Sniper paused his vigil, taking a hand off of his rifle to scratch an itch on his back.


The Red Spy, like all Spies, was a bastard.

He took obvious pleasure in his underhand methods for disposing of his enemies. Sniper was no nancy-boy; fire and bullets he could handle just fine, but he cringed at the memories of waking with a gasp in re-spawn, squirming at the ghostly phantom of a butterfly knife sliding into his back. The Marksman got goose bumps thinking about it.

Sniper’s thoughts were interrupted by a flash of motion in his peripheral vision. He brought his hand back to his weapon and shuffled on his elbows, pivoting the rifle so he could get a better look through the scope. A crooked smile pulled at his dry lips. Speak of the slimy RED devil himself!

Barely peaking out behind a tool shed was the unmistakable flicker of the enemy Spy de-cloaking. As the figure shifted, something metallic glinted at hand level. The spy had the Intel. Maybe that was why he had been careless enough to wander into Sniper’s territory. Cocky little bugger.

As Sniper inhaled, he could feel the rough splinters of the floorboards through the fabric of his shirt,pressing into his belly. The sun had descended just low enough in the sky that he no longer had to squint through the yellow lenses of his glasses. He took careful aim through the scope at the opaque shape of the RED Spy. He exhaled and fired.

The rifle cracked in his ear. An almost physical presence that filled the room but was gone in an instant, leaving only a buzzing in his head. The recoil felt familiar as a lover’s touch against his shoulder. Finally, he thought as he checked the scope to make certain he had hit his target.

But what was this? The Spy was not only still alive and breathing, but making a run for it. The RED was limping across the bridge with the briefcase clutched in one hand and the other pressed high against his thigh. The little worm wouldn't last long, but didn't have to. He was mere yards from safety.

Bloody cloaking device, Sniper thought. Why wouldn’t the fucker just die?

“Not so fast you little wanker,” Sniper hissed under his breath.

His heart leapt as he realized the window was too small to provide a good shot. The Spy was going to get away.


He scrambled to his feet, aware that he was now exposed to the RED Sniper’s line of sight, but too deep in the chase to care. He was a hunter, with the scent of his wounded prey intoxicatingly close.


He lunged to the second window but overshot. His upper-half dangled out in the open like a big blue target. Sniper barely pulling himself back inside as a round from his counterpart buried itself in the window frame where his head had been. It appeared he wasn't the only predator on the hunt.


He took a deep breath and steadied himself on the sill. A second round buried itself next to the first with a thunk that he felt rather than heard, safe behind the wall.


There was no time to steady his racing heart. No time to properly take aim. The RED Spy was almost across the bridge and out of range.


Sniper brought up his rifle and readied it to fire. Relying on years of experience, a brief glance through the scope, and a shit-ton bit of good-old-fashioned luck, he pulled the trigger.

7 .

The BLU Sniper felt something akin to warmth after his team-mate’s praise during dinner that night in the mess-hall. It was either that or heartburn from Pyro’s chili. Nope, scratch that. It was definitely heart-burn. He tugged on Medic’s sleeve when the German made to leave, pulling the tall man down so that they were eye-to-eye.

“Ja? Vas?”

“Where do ya’ keep the anti-acid, mate?” He asked quietly. “ Feels like something’s trying to crawl its way out of my chest.”

“Nein,” Medic said, straightening up and adjusting his spectacles. “I will get it. I am heading to the trauma bay now. No trouble.”

“…Danke,” Sniper said, trying to remember the little German that he knew. For some reason the dirty words always stuck in his head longer than the polite ones. He hoped that danke meant thank-you and not fuck-you.

“Natürlich.”

Medic left, and Sniper turned back to dinner. Scout, who had been chasing the RED Spy when Sniper’s second shot hit home, was particularly enthusiastic about Sniper’s kill.

“—and it was like BOOM, man,” Scout said, dripping chili on the table as he gestured with his spoon. Spy moved his cup out of the line of fire, rolling his eyes. “Hit that fucker right in the head. Right. In. The. Head.”

“The crazy part was that he kept going for like, ten feet. I swear his brains were dripping down his neck! And he was still walking!”

Sniper rubbed the back of his own head. He wondered what it had felt like. Had the RED Spy woken up in re-spawn gasping like a fish out of water, still feeling that sickly warmth on the back of his neck? It would serve him right, of course. But still…

He looked down at his chili, and then pushed it aside before standing to leave. No one seemed to notice. Scout had evidently said something which irked Spy.

“ ’onesty, petit. I zink you would not know where to feed yourself if you did not flap your mouth so much.”

“Shut it Frenchfag!”

“Had your fill already?” Medic asked as Sniper nearly walked into him on his way to the out. “Here, I have your anti-acid.”

“Thanks. Hate to rush, but I’m full as a fat lady’s socks, and I’ve got to scout out a new place to set up tomorrow,” Sniper explained. “The REDs have caught onto this one.”

“Das ist aber schade,” Medic said, placing the tablets in Sniper’s hand. As he felt the nitrile against his skin, Sniper realized he had never seen Medic without gloves on. He felt uncomfortable as the man gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“What?” Sniper asked, confused. “Schade?”

“A shame,” Medic said, walking back to his seat next to Heavy. “Then of course, they always do, don’t they?”

“Hey, Sniper wait up,” Scout called from the mess-hall, his argument with Spy either finished or forgotten. “Want a hand?”

Sniper gave a ambiguous shrug and the Scout followed him.

Scout didn’t grate on Sniper’s nerves the way he seemed to with Spy or some of the other BLUs. As a quiet man, he found the constant chatter almost…pleasant. Scout didn’t mind holding up both ends of the conversation. If he was honest with himself, Sniper supposed he was rather fond of the young man, still a child in many ways.

By the end of the evening, they had chosen a location that didn’t seem terrible.
--------------

~The Next Day~

As the battle progressed, Sniper found himself grinning more than he had any right to, and felt happy as a dog in a hubcap factory to boot. The spot he and Scout had chosen was proving quite fruitful; two non-fatal RED hits within the first hour.

He took aim, firing off a round at the RED Engineer unfortunate enough to wander into no-man’s-land. Make that two non-fatal hits and a headshot within the first hour.

Engineer’s body twitched once, and then lay still.

He had seen neither hide nor hair of the RED Spy, but the hairs on the back of his neck had been standing at full attention since he woke up that morning. Something was stirring in the dark passages. Since the enemy agent didn’t seem the type to sulk in the shadows licking his wounds, Sniper suspected that the Spy had turned his thoughts toward retaliation. As a precaution, the sharpshooter had positioned a shard of mirror nearby, so he could watch the room to his back while he worked. Hopefully he wouldn’t be caught with his pants down, so to speak.

Sniper dropped the rifle across his knees, surveying the battlefield with an unaided eye. What was that Frenchie ratbag up to?

He was startled by a knock at the trapdoor.

“Hey Wombat, let me in!”

It sounded like Scout. Even so, before he turned in his chair, Sniper placed the kukri on the crate he was using as a table; right beside the #1 Sniper mug, and well within arm’s reach. Then, with a grunt and a kick, he pushed aside the heavy trunk sitting on top of the hatch.

“ ‘s open,” He said.

“Thanks man.”

The hatch swung open, clunking heavily on the floor. Noticing that his knuckles had turned white against the grey gunmetal, Sniper relaxed his grip on the rifle slightly. He watched as the Scout placed his bat on the floor, then levered himself into the room. The visitor shut the trapdoor behind him, moving the trunk back in place before brushing the dust off his hands and straightening up.

“I was wondering when you would show, RED.” He motioned with the muzzle of the rifle. “Take off that disguise.”

“ ’ow did you know it was me?” The man asked, dropping the Bostonian accent. For a brief and disconcerting moment, the Spy’s voice came out of Scout’s body before the rest of the mask vanished. The RED Spy stood in the center of the room.

“You reek of cigarettes. Plus, Scout never calls me Wombat,” Sniper said, raising the rifle. “It’s always ‘faggot’ or, if he’s feeling friendly, ‘kangaroo-fucker’. And he never visits me in the middle of battle.”

“Hmm,” Spy said, slowly making a move toward his pocket. Toward the knife. “Noted. I thought you two were close; you think of ‘im as un frère, non? ”

“Yeah,” Sniper said, leveling his gun. “Not really the touchy-feely type, our Scout.”

Sniper pulled the trigger, but instead of a satisfying crack, the rifle emitted an empty ‘thunk’ noise that poured ice-water down his spine. Of all the dumb mistakes!

He had forgotten to reload.

8 .

Spy lunged forward before Sniper could get his head together. Grabbing the Austailian by the lapels of his vest, the Frenchman pulled him out of the chair and shoved him back up against the wall. His head hit hard and his arse collided with the crate, toppling it with a crash. The mug shattered and the Kukri skittered across the floor.

The spook may have been as thin as a starved dog, but he was strong as piano wire. Sniper twisted but, pressed up against the wall, couldn’t get the leverage to toss the other man; he was too close.

“Bloody Spy,” Sniper said, snapping up the butt of his rifle into Spy’s nose instead. “That was my favorite mug, wanker!”

There was a satisfying crunch as the rifle hit home.

Spy clutched his hands to his nose, butterfly knife falling to the floor. Blood bubbled through the black leather of his gloves, and Sniper slid sideways out of his reach, throwing himself toward to hatch.

He was about to kick the trunk aside when one of Spy’s long arms wrapped itself around his throat, hauling him back. Sniper clawed at it through the fabric of the suit, trying to get a grip and pry it off.

Sniper struggled, trying to throw Spy over his shoulder, but misjudged. He found himself on the floor with Spy straddling his lower back. His sunglasses fell off, and without the yellow lenses, the world seemed unnaturally blue. He tried to get his feet under himself to stand, but his boots slid in the ceramic shards of the mug.

Spy’s fist pressed against the back of Sniper’s neck, crushing his windpipe against the man’s elbow. Sniper couldn’t breathe. He scratched against Spy’s arm, trying to peal it away. He couldn’t breathe.

“Think of zhis as payback,” Spy said, “for all zhe times I ‘ave respawned with the feel of one of your bullets rattling around inside my skull.”

“Nnkg?” Sniper asked.

“You take pleasure in killing me, more zhan my other team-mates; why?”

Sniper made confused, animal noises.

“Non, zhat was rhetorical . I do not expect an answer.”

“ n’gack,” Sniper said nonetheless.

“I know what you are zhinking,” Spy continued, tightening his grip. “Zhat my plan is not so good, because if I kill you, poof! Et, par bleu, you will wake up good as new.”

“But you forget one zing,” Spy said. He had lowered his head so that he spoke the words right into Sniper’s ear. His breath was warm against the back of Sniper's neck.

“I can still ‘umiliate you, mon moineau.” Everything slowed down. Sniper struggled like an animal, but his arms and legs felt like they were filling with sand. He found his mind grasping the most inane details as his body screamed for oxygen. He noticed the peculiar rough feel of the carpet beneath his cheek. Strange, because it had felt so soft and giving beneath his boots.

He felt Spy, sitting like a bag of antlers on the small of sniper’s back. Spy’s thighs were against his sides, trembling with the effort of keeping him immobile. Above all he felt the arm around his neck. Black dots filled the edge of his vision. Sniper’s face was red, quickly approaching blue, when the pressure finally let up. He gasped, coughed, and gasped again, drawing in lungfuls of air that burned deep within his chest.

He felt a fumbling hand beneath him, then something tugging at the waist of his pants. At first he thought Spy was searching his pockets—an absurd notion, but then realized the man was removing his belt. Once he managed to draw it through the last belt-loop, Spy wrapped the belt around his wrists, securing Sniper’s hands behind his back.

Spy rose to his feet and, grabbing Sniper by his belt-loops, flipped him over with a grunt. As he settled back down, Spy’s knee slipped between Sniper’s thighs, so that his weight rested on Sniper’s legs. The only sounds in the room were the wheezes from Sniper’s throat.

Sniper’s absorption with the simple act of breathing was interrupted when Spy reached down and palmed the BLU’s balls; an act which, even through the thick material of his jeans, sent a jolt through Sniper’s cotton-filled brain.

He jerked his head up, trying to look Spy in the eye. Trying to get a sense of what was going on, but Spy had his head bent down, focused on his task. What the HELL was Spy doing?

“Wh-Wha’--?” Sniper couldn’t form his mouth around the words. “NO--”

Sniper was half-hard already. Not from Spy’s touch, but from the rush of adrenaline; the rush of finding himself still among the living. Spy’s other hand ghosted across the skin at his hip, just above the elastic of his boxers. His shirt must have become untucked in the struggle. Sniper briefly wished he hadn’t worn his koala-print underwear before the hand dipped below, gripping his length.

Sniper hissed.

“Bloody hell, Spy. This isn’t—Jesus!” Sniper’s voice sounded wrong and it hurt to shout, but he did so anyway.

He bit back a moan of horror, afraid it would be taken for pleasure. Spy had popped the snap and pulled down the zipper, freeing his cock. Sniper felt betrayed by his own skin as his body responded to the hatefully gentle ministrations. Spy somehow knew just where to touch. Or maybe it was just the fact that someone else was touching him, caressing him. It had been awhile.

A hand groped upward, finding a nipple beneath his shirt, and this time Sniper did moan. Spy finally looked up. His eyes shone behind the mask; thin amber rings around dark, blown pupils. His smile was all teeth.

“Bon dieu, tu m'excites...” Spy said under his breath, in a way that made Sniper think he wasn’t meant to hear. Then louder: “If I didn’t know better I would zhink zhat you are enjoying zhis.”

Sniper broke the stare. Turned his head to the side, looking away. His arousal grew as Spy stroked just so with slippery, blood slicked gloves. He wanted to fight, but his body was paralyzed; torn between pleasure and shame.

“I can’t believe you would... ung, Oh god!”

His thumb finally touched the sensitive head of Sniper’s cock, flitting over the slit. Sniper bit his lip and made small, conflicted noises into the carpet. Spy chuckled, grabbing Sniper’s jaw and wrenching his head back to centre so he could watch Sniper’s flushed face.

“Just kill me, you bastard,” Sniper said.

“Peut-être,” Spy said. “I might...if you beg me to touch you. ”

“Yeah. Right.” Sniper said, between hitched breaths.

“ Non, I will,” Spy said, bending down so his mouth was over the shell of Sniper’s ear. “Just beg for me to fuck you... and I will shoot you in zhe head like a mad dog.”

Spy managed to pull back his head before Sniper could tear out his throat with his teeth. Barely.

“Just a few simple words, chien.” Spy said with a smile.

Sniper turned his head to the side again and mumbled something.

“Quoi?” Spy said. “I didn’t catch zhat.”

“Please,” Sniper spoke through his teeth. “...Fuck. Me.”

“Non, en Français.”

“Bastard...” He hissed, trying to remember the words. His erection was throbbing, and he almost wanted what he was being forced to ask for. Almost.

“...Baise-moi.”

“Very good,” Spy said, pulling his gun out its holster. “Now, as promised.”

“Close your eyes now, mon moineau, ” Spy said, and Sniper did.

The gun's muzzle, warm from being nestled against his body, pressed against Sniper’s forehead. Spy pulled the trigger.

9 .

I feel so stupid in trying to explain the plot but: Does anyone have that fic where scout forces himself on medic and then some time later spy comes in and does some weird stuff, scout gets fed up with spy and he kills him. then in the last chapter medic asks scout if he knows what schadenfruede is.

10 .

is it just me or is the first part of that sniper/spy story copy pasted twice in the same post?

11 .

Thanks so much for the repost of Strangle Hold!

12 .

>>10
haha wow it is, oops, sorry !

>>11
np!

13 .

Does anyone happen to have the Scout/Medic fic, "Go Avay..." in their stores? I think that's what it's called.

14 .

This post has been deleted.

15 .

I have "Go Avay" saved. Anything special I have to do to repost, or just copy the whole thing into the body of the reply window?

16 .

Looking for Doghouse and On The Surface of It, two great fics that were unfortunately never finished. The first was an AU where everyone was a prostitute, the second was about Spy tricking Heavy into sex and things spiraling from there.

I really, really hope these aren't lost for good.

17 .

There is a serious lack of RobotLyra's amazing Medic/You fic.

I'm just sayin'.

18 .

This post has been deleted.

19 .

>>4
the stories you're talking about were from the thread titled TARGET SIGHTED by SCOUT, right? (yeah, that was the name)
i have them saved, can't post them right now but i will tomorrow.
I also have saved the dramatic reading an anonymus lady had made of the last chapter, but it's in my computer back home, so it could even take a full week before i get that one back...

20 .

First time posting to TF2chan . . . . well, second if you count the poorly-formatted previous attempt that I deleted. Oh, well. Second pass!

Go Avay - by andrew ryans caddy

-------

"Hey Doc!"

Medic knocked over a rook. He righted it with care, the sense of touch muted by his thick gloves.

"Ja, Herr Scout?" he said with heroic patience.

Scout slapped his hands onto the table and leaned over the chessboard. "Whatcha doin?"

Medic grabbed the swinging dogtags in his fist before they could wreak havoc on the battlefield. "Vhat does it look like?"

"Like fatass is staring at a plastic horsey."

Heavy, brow furrowed in concentration, did not appear to hear the boy's voice. Medic envied him.

"It is called thinking, Herr Scout. Perhaps you have heard ze term?"

"Yeah, yeah." In a truly inspired act of finding ways to be irritating, Scout tugged his tags free and turned away only to begin opening the infirmary's metal cabinets. "Hey, do you need, like, help with anything?"

"No," said Medic, as he studied the position where a delicate movement of Heavy's fingers left his queen.

"Like, body parts to bag, needles to jab into things, experimental drugs to feed to guinea pigs, stuff cleaned, that kinda crap. I could do it."

"Herr Scout." Medic pushed up his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment. Tennis shoes clomped about the small room. "Are you bleeding?"

"Naw." Scout peered at a row of pill bottles, all labeled fastidiously in German with the proper dosage and effects of feeding them to unsuspecting teammates.

"Are you sick?"

The hinges of a cabinet squeaked. "Nope."

Medic's bishop made a bold foray into enemy territory. "Are your intestines bursting through the abdominal wall, resulting in massive bleeding and catastrophic organ failure?"

Scout checked beneath his shirt. "Naw."

"Zen," said Medic, narrowing his eyes at the board, "go avay."

Out of the corner of his eye, beyond the expanse of patterned squares, he saw Scout's face fall.

"Fine," he muttered. "You don't gotta be a Nazi about it."

The boy stuck his hands in his pockets and sulked out, leaving his disarray behind him.

"Kinder," Medic said under his breath.

For a few minutes there was only the precise clicks of the pieces. The chess set was in the center of a sturdy and serviceable table, covering most of the bloodstains. Heavy loomed above like a contemplative mountain.

"Leetle man has crush," he said as he moved a knight.

"Vhat?" Medic's glasses fell onto the table. "On who?"

"You, Doktor," said Heavy, his brows lifting with amusement.

Medic retrieved his glasses and polished the lenses with the corner of his labcoat. The only effect was to give them reddish streaks, but in any case it was mostly for show. "I don't know vhat you are talking about."

"Vhen not on battlefield, he pesters everyvun. Especially, follows you until you shout. Is lonely." Heavy's shrug involved a great migration of mass. "Is not hard to see."

"Is-it is ridiculous." Medic replaced his glasses and straightened them. "Ze boy hardly says a vord that is not an insult to us or a boast of his skills vith vimmen."

"And people, they are alvays what they say." The black bishop was dwarfed by Heavy's fingertips. An afterthought: "Check."

Ridiculous, Medic thought, even while a suspicion took root in his mind and slowly blossomed into an idea. Despite the distraction, he did well. He lasted nearly twenty minutes this time.

--------------------

The next day after the usual battles, Scout needed to think, so he went out back to hit grenades with a bat and see how far they went before they exploded.

It wasn't like the doc hated him or anything. You couldn't hate teammates. If they were weird and crazy, they were your weird crazies, and nobody better screw with them. Honestly, Scout didn't know what his own deal was. The doc and him were usually on other sides of the battlefield, except when Scout ran back for a second to get patched up. Once early on they'd tried to work together. A while after Scout crossed home with the enemy intel in his hand, the doc had stumbled up to the door, covered in mud and dust and with a bunch of bullet holes through his coat, and panted out, "Ze qvick little bunny can heal himself."

BAM! Right up in midair like the Fourth of July.

So it wasn't like they knew each other that well. Scout just kinda liked the doc. He was smart and he kept his shit together when things were all going to hell. It took a special kind of balls to go out there with barely any weapons and put all you've got into covering everybody else's ass. He had patience, and that was fascinating to Scout, like weird foreign things were.

KABLAM! Nice new crater.

Scout was winding up the next pitch when he decided; screw it. Subtlety and thinking about things never got him anywhere. When in doubt, run through the middle and see what happens. Worst thing could happen was Medic got all huffy and, "Ach, leaff me alone, I must vork" and that happened practically anytime Scout talked to him already, though it didn't even make sense, cause how much vork could one guy have, anyway? Scout laid the bat against his shoulder, tossed the ball in his free hand, and was about two steps toward the base when he remembered it wasn't a ball.

BOOM.

Whatever. Respawn was closer to the infirmary anyway. Scout jogged over and stuck his head in, but there was nobody there. He tried Medic's room next, and even knocked. See? Manners. Not like he waited for an answer before opening the door, Christ, he wasn't the Pope.

"Hey Doc!"

Medic was sitting at the desk by the window, blinds closed, reading what looked like a textbook by the light of a little green lamp. It was one of the first times Scout had ever seen him without his coat on, just in an old-fashioned dress shirt and black suspenders. The doc looked up like he'd been expecting him.

"Ah, Scout," he said. "Come in. Und close ze door."

The look of warm invitation Medic aimed over his glasses knocked Scout's brain out from under him. Before he could think about it he'd done as he said. The room looked a lot like Scout's, except without socks on the floor, and instead of girly pictures torn out of magazines tacked up on the wall there was that sketch of the naked guy in the circle with the four arms.

"I, uh, got something I want to talk to you about," Scout said, because he'd figured he'd think of something clever to say when he got there and it wasn't happening.

"Ja, I know," said Medic.

"You do?" Scout perked up. This was gonna be easier than he thought.

"Of course." Medic swiveled his chair around and leaned back. The knot of his blue tie was nestled at his throat. Scout wanted to reach his hand up and pull it loose. Just because he didn't understand why anybody would wear a tie if he didn't have to. "Do you think I haven't noticed how you behave differently, lately? You are helpful. Comparatively courteous. Alvays over my shoulder."

Scout rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Pretty obvious, huh."

"Only to one who is paying special attention." Usually Scout got pissed off when he thought somebody was laughing at him, but something about the smile hovering around the doc's eyes was kind of nice, maybe just because he couldn't remember ever seeing the doc looking like that before. Relaxed, and like he was thinking of a good joke.

"So, hey," Scout said, taking a few steps forward. This was going way better than he expected. "Long as you don't mind it, maybe we can, y'know, do something about it."

"An excellent idea." Scout had never really noticed how Medic's glasses made his eyes big and expressive. "Vhy don't you come here, and ve can have a more intimate discussion..."

Scout was there before the little glint behind Medic's smile sank through to his conscious mind.

Scout always thought of everybody else on the team as slow. Maybe that wasn't right. It turned out Medic could move pretty damn fast over a short distance. Say, from reaching for something hidden under his desk to grabbing Scout and pressing the sharp and very, very pointy edge of a bonesaw to his throat.

Behind his glasses Medic's eyes gleamed.

"...about ze jars vhere I am going to place your organs, Spy."

----------------

"Woah woah woah! Not funny, doc!" Scout babbled while he tried to wriggle away from Medic's grip. "Not cool! You got it all wrong! I'm on your team!"

No use. Scout was built around the idea of not getting caught in the first place and Medic was a whole lot stronger than he looked. The jagged teeth on the sawblade were covered with flecks of what looked like rust but what turned out in closeup - Scout was really, really close up - wasn't.

"Exactly vhat a Spy vould say," Medic hissed, his face the width of the saw away. "Thought you vere clever, didn't you? Find ze damning black mark in my files, use ze handsome young to get past ze old qveen's guard."

"Look, I don't know what you're talkin' about!" Scout tried to back away. Medic followed him step for step until he was pinned against the door. "I ain't a Spy!"

Medic pushed the saw up harder. It didn't have far to go. Scout could feel the jagged edges against his throat with every throb of his pulse.

"Vhere is ze boy? How long have you taken his place? Speak, or vhen I am done gutting you ve vill tear your base from its foundations!"

Scout realized he'd never seen the doc really pissed before. He was really wishing he could've kept that streak going.

"Doc, it's me!" Respawn or not, dying still wasn't exactly a whole lot of fun, especially when it was your own teammate and the worst response to a proposition in fag history. Goddamn, all girls ever did was say they had to wash their hair. "C'mon, man!"

That kinda frantic high-pitched note? Not something Scout was proud of.

"Prove yourself!" Medic's eyes glittered. "Vhere do ve keep ze spare key to ze veapons lockers?"

"Under the potted plant in the hallway!"

Medic's hand around his shirtfront yanked him closer. "Vhat is in the refrigerator at 2Fort?"

"Some ham, a hollow grenade full of baked beans, an' carrot cake from Pyro's birthday!"

"Who plays left field for ze Red Sox?"

"That doesn't prove anything, dumbass, everybody knows Carl Yastrzemski!"

Slowly, still eyeing him like he was gonna sprout a stupid accent and a backstabbing knife any second, Medic let go of Scout and lowered his weapon. "Scout. It is really you?"

"Yeah." Scout rubbed his throat. "I know other stuff, too. Like how the first thing you do after battles is polish the mud and gibs and stuff off your boots, or how you only call people 'Hair' when you're pissed off. I don't know what you're talking about with any files, though."

Medic turned aside to put the saw down by his desk. He was quiet for a minute before he started talking, the way newscasters do, like what they're saying is important but it's got nothing to do with them.

"I vas careless, vunce. Vhen you are young, you think ze rules do not apply, zat you are invincible. I vas lucky. Zere vas no firm evidence, and I had money for ze bribes to make zem look ze other vay. However, our current employers are very...thorough. I doubt zey do not know."

"What are you goin' on about?" Scout said, baffled.

"I mean to say zat I have certain inclination zat are verboten," Medic said, as he straightened his tie and didn't quite look at Scout.

The lights in Scout's head took a minute to line up and blink in unison. "You mean you really are a queeah?"

When Medic pushed up his glasses and glared, he looked like his old self again. "To put it vith your characteristic tact and delicacy, yes."

Scout shifted from foot to foot. He rolled his eyes up to the waterstained ceiling. "Oh."

Medic prickled. "Vhat do you mean, oh?"

"I kinda figured, since you're all fussy about keeping clean and you're all buddy-buddy with the Rooski 'n all."

"Heavy is a dear friend, and caring for vun's personal appearance does not mean vun is homosexual, it means vun is not you," Medic sighed. "In any case, I apologize for ze trying to kill you."

"Naw, man, that was pretty badass." Scout grinned. "I didn't know you had it in ya, Doc."

Medic gave him a look with a touch of that scaryness in it. "Remember that, should you feel ze urge to tell anyvun vhat you have found out."

"You kiddin? Hell no. You don't rat on teammates." Scout scratched the back of his head. "Sides, it's not like it's a big deal or nothin."

"Not a big deal," Medic echoed flatly.

"Maybe where you came from - hell, where I came from, you got any idea what guys do to fags? - but here, who gives a crap? It ain't the same. Out in the real world I'd get in trouble for splattin' people's brains out. Here, I get a bonus if I do it faster."

Scout leaned against the wall. The end of his handwrap came loose and fluttered as he gestured.

"Besides, if there aren't any girls around and it's in between fightin', it doesn't count as queeah."

His brother in the Navy'd told him that, and Scout knew everything his brothers said was true, except for "Come back here, I just wanna talk!"

"An...interesting viewpoint," Medic said, though he looked relieved.

"Screw you, you know I'm right- Hey. Wait a minute."

All of Scout's energy went to his body primarily. His head got by with the leftovers, on the principle that you didn't have to be good at thinking things through if you were good at hauling ass. Things tended to work their way through his brain after waiting their turn.

A grin was plastering itself over Scout's face. "You called me handsome."

"Mere fact." The doc straightened his cuffs. His eyes kept hiding behind his glasses. "Obviously you are an attractive young man. Do not let it go to your head."

Scout's expression had to be goofy as hell, but he didn't give a shit. "You think I'm hot."

"I did not say zat-"

"It's your lucky day, Doc. Most fags wish they could get this fine a piece of ass. So how bout it?"

Medic was giving him a look like he was trying to measure something that kept moving. "You can't be serious."

"I mean it, man. You know you want me." Scout leaned into a seductive pose that was only a little bit ruined by the wince when his elbow smacked into the wall. A question crept into his voice. "Don't you?"

Now there was a funny thing. He'd never seen the doc look unsure before. "It is verboten, Scout. Ze risks-"

"Fuck that!" Scout exploded. "You're always thinking of reasons not to do shit. 'That won't work.' 'You'll get hit with a rocket if you go that way.' 'Not right now Scout, you're on fire.' Even you've gotta get sick of always thinking about shit instead of just getting it done, and if it doesn't work, fuck, you don't lose nothin' and you've got a great story. What are you so fuckin' afraid of, man? Give me some friggin credit here. I like you, dumbass! Why don't you-"

Medic's expression was slowly changing from annoyed to a funny sort of determined, and suddenly he grabbed Scout by the shirt and Scout just had time to think that this time he was definitely gonna get sawed in the throat and then Medic was kissing him.

And, you know, he was a smart guy. That was pretty much the only way Scout was going to shut up.

-------
The boy learned quickly.

Medic had thought to frighten him off, shock him into silence at the least. He could not think with the young fool babbling at him.

Yet instead of running off Scout was pressing his lithe body toward him, his mouth open and eager, making small and no doubt unconscious noises, his hands grabbing fistfuls of Medic's shirt. Perhaps there was something to be said for not thinking.

Scout pulled away and panted, though he did not go so far as to let go. "How's that, Doc?"

"Sloppy," said Medic, licking his lips thoughtfully. "However, zat can be improved vith practice."

"Sure, sure, we can do that." He tugged on the knot of Medic's tie and used it to pull him closer. He smelled of fresh sawdust and grass. "How does this whole queeah thing work, anyway?"

"How it vorks is you do as I say."

"So like everything else." Scout was grinning like a fool. At this range it was not unappealing. "But I'm thinkin you're wearing way too much clothes."

Medic corrected him - he meant too many clothes, that being a peculiarity of English Medic had taken pains to master - as Scout undid the buttons down the front of his shirt.

"Don't pull them off, dummkopf," he said, rendering assistance before the impatient boy ruined his second-best shirt. He swallowed the last syllable when Scout's hands took the liberty of slipping under the open fabric and stroking his stomach. It had been a long time since anyway had touched him. He did not normally allow it.

"You get to see me naked all the time, but I never get to see you," Scout said, pushing Medic's shirt off his shoulders and trying to tug the still-buttoned cuffs off his wrists until Medic shoved him off and did it himself. "Totally unfair."

"To be naked in ze clinical context is an entirely different creature. I am a professional."

"Yeah, yeah, you know you snuck a peek." Scout tossed his hat on the bed and peeled off his shirt, leaving his dog tags to jingle against his, yes, slender and well-defined chest. "Do I get to feel you up now?"

"If you must," said Medic, unwilling to admit that he didn't know exactly what Scout meant. The hand down his pants made things clear. Medic attempted to hide his gasp by kissing him. If the boy knew he could make Medic's skin tingle with electricity and his heart pound, he would never hear the end of it.

Scout's free hand tugged open his belt. The wraps became tangled, and Medic pulled Scout's hand free to unwind them.

"Hold your hands up, bitte," he commanded, his body complaining at the loss of contact. "Honestly, vhy in the vorld do you not simply vear gloves?"

"'Cause these look cooler," Scout said, as Medic unfastened his pants and set his teeth to the task of unwinding the white cloth. His eyes widened. "Holy Christ, that's hot."

"Efficiency," Medic said, allowing himself a sliver of pride as he dropped the wraps and pulled down his pants, then took a moment to divest himself of his boots. Scout was doing the same, undressing shamelessly until he stood in his bare skin. He tossed his underwear on the floor, Medic noted with irritation that lasted until the younger man pushed him down onto his bed.

"Way too slow," he said, pulled off Medic's underwear and undershirt and tossing them aside."I ain't got all night." He paused to take a good look.

While Medic was in excellent condition from carrying around the heavy Medigun and pack as he ran about trying to keep a herd of reckless fools alive, he was aware he was no longer as young as he used to be. Yet there no poetry could flatter like Scout's low whistle and murmur of, "Damn, Doc."

"You are not so bad yourself," Medic said generously.

Scout snorted. "I know that."

He explored Medic's body with relentlessly eager hands, running down his shoulders and chest and across his stomach. Medic bit his lip, fighting the vulnerability of pleasure and knowing that a Scout aware of the devastating effect of his simple touches would be insufferable for days.

Scout lifted Medic's glasses away, and the world's focus softened. The light down on Scout's arms gave him an edge of glow in the yellow lamplight.

"Be careful vith zhose!" Medic barked.

"Yeah, yeah." Scout set them down on the bedside table with a surprisingly gentle motion. "I don't run around breaking people's crap all the time, y'know. Just Engie's."

He laid himself full length on top of Medic and dove in for a kiss. He made a startled noise when Medic made use of the leverage to grab him and flip him over.

"As I vas saying," Medic said, moving down to kiss Scout's throat, "you vill do as I say."

"You're senior fag," Scout said. "An' hey, you bein' bossy? Kinda hot."

Medic ignored him and set to mapping his body with his fingertips. It was astonishing how much smaller he seemed when pinned down. He gave an impression of size through sheer motion and force of personality. In the rare case when his body was still and quiet, but for softly elevated breathing, it was fascinatingly compact. Medic licked a dark rose nipple, then took it in his mouth for a more dedicated suck.

"Jeez, that feels weird," Scout said with a sound that was part laugh and part gasp, shifting beneath him. Medic put one hand on his hip to keep him securely in place. "Not like bad weird or anything."

Medic ran his fingers along Scout's ribs, watching as they moved with his quickened breathing. He lifted Scout's hands to kiss the sensitive inner wrist, inhaled his scent from the fold of his elbow. He enjoyed the pulses of arousal slowly winning over his body, the way the air warmed on his skin. He was determined to take his time. How long he had denied himself these sins of the flesh, and for such good reasons, though oddly he could not think of a one of them now.

"You're gettin' into it, Doc," Scout said a little breathlessly, rising up on his elbows to watch as Medic kissed the curve of his hipbone. "You been hard up for a while or somethin'?"

"Zat is none of your business."

Scout was quiet, and so must have realized this meant yes.

Medic touched a trail down his thighs, stroked the exceptionally defined muscles of his calves, and kissed a path upwards again.

"What are you gonna do?" Scout said, with a strange note in his voice.

"Nazhing you vill not enjoy."

Scout watched as Medic's lips brushed his taut stomach. Rather more taut than it should be, in fact, muscles held tight against Medic's attentions. Medic paused and looked up at him, a realization sinking through.

"You are nervous," he said with a hint of disbelief.

"Naw!" Scout squirmed. Medic's hands held him firmly by the hips.

"You are nervous," he repeated, vastly amused. "I have personally vitnessed you charge into machine gun fire, zen respawn and try ze same tactic again, and you are frightened of a naked man."

"A naked man who isn't gonna be gettin' any if you don't shut up."

"Vell zen." Medic ran his fingertips upwards along the inside of Scout's magnificent thigh. "You give me no choice but to put my mouth to better use."

Scout, who in daylight would lower his voice for no one, bit back a fascinating cross of gasp and whimper as Medic's lips enveloped his cock.

God in Heaven. Medic had nearly forgotten how much he enjoyed this. He heard a soft sound as Scout's head fell back onto the pillow. He was ruthless, finding and exploiting every point of pleasure. Long fingers tangled in his hair, pressing with the palm.

Medic smacked Scout's hand away and raised his head. "Pushing downvards is against ze etiquette," he said.

Scout's hand fell away. His eyes were closed, lips parted. He ran his tongue across them before he spoke. "Right. Senior fag." His voice was barely more than breath. "Anything you say."

Was there anyone who couldn't love that phrase?

Medic took special care to reward him well. He wrapped his hand around the base of Scout's cock and lavished the length with his tongue. It was intoxicating to hold the power of being the center of a man's world, having him entirely at his mercy.

"Jesus fuck Christ doc!" said Scout.

His thighs clenched and relaxed under Medic's hands as he babbled in rapturous, obscene delirium. Soon even that became beyond him, dissolving into whimpers that crescendoed to a final moan of ecstasy.

Medic sat up and wiped his lips. Scout was spread out before him on his bed, fingers clutching and releasing the blanket, legs spread. It was some time before his eyes opened.

"Fuck, Doc," he said with a hazy grin. "I...fuck."

"High praise," said Medic, not entirely facetiously. He sat back and regarded Scout warmly, giving himself a few lazy strokes to finely hone the edge of his arousal.

"So, what do I do for payback?" Scout watched him with interest. "What's good manners n' shit?"

"Can you stand?"

"Get bent." Scout's jaw set and his eyes flashed, returning to a more familiar expression even while his limbs trembled with the dregs of orgasm. "I ain't leavin' til I'm good an' ready."

"That isn't vhat I said. Can you?"

Scout pulled his legs up from around Medic and hopped off the bed. "Any other tricks you wanna see?"

Medic followed at a more measured pace, slipped around behind Scout, and wrapped his arms around him. The younger man's skin wore a slight sheen of sweat. His body tightened for a moment before relaxing. Medic wondered how long it would take to teach him that his hands would bring only pleasure, make him eager and pliable from the first touch.

"Put your hands against ze vall, bitte," Medic said into his ear.

To his surprise Scout did as directed, though he threw a glance over his shoulder.

"No doin' anything to my ass, okay?" he said. "I ain't ready for the full fag experience."

"Of course," Medic murmured. "Keep your legs togezzer."

Medic took his cock in hand and pressed it into the cleft where Scout's thighs met. The heat and pressure made him exhale roughly, despite his best attempt at control.

"I never thought a' that," Scout said with amazement.

"Imagination," Medic said, rocking his hips and trying to suppress his panting as his control frayed, "inspired by your magnificent legs."

Scout squeezed his legs together experimentally, and Medic's carefully cultivated self-possession flew out of his grasp. He grabbed Scout's waist and thrust against him with the force and passion of his full body, closing his eyes and opening himself to the full force of the sensation of Scout's hot, slick flesh and the soft noises he made, none more fascinating than the gasp and arch when Medic bit down on his shoulder and released the cry of his climax into his salt skin.

Medic stumbled backwards and fell onto his bed before he could remember to let go. Scout landed on top of him as a pile of elbows and knees. The bed being intended for one, there was no room to lay side by side. Scout solved the problem by draping himself over Medic, pushing his arms around until he found a comfortable configuration.

"You bit me, Doc." Post-orgasmic, his voice lost its aggressive edge, and his face took on an appealingly dreamy cast. Medic made a note to keep him in this state as much as possible. "I'm gettin' a rabies shot before the next time."

"Make an appointment," said Medic. "I vill see if I can fit you in."

For now, perhaps, privately, he could admit to a strange fondness for the boy. There was a charm to his brashness, a certain honesty. His recklessness and instantaneous shift from impulse to action spoke of a freedom Medic had never known.

"You better." Scout groped for the lamp. He succeeded in knocking it off the table, which gave, to be fair, the same result.

"Clumsy idiot," said Medic, running his hand through Scout's short hair. Tomorrow the gloves would be on again.

Scout lay his head on Medic's shoulder. Medic felt the brush of lashes on his skin as his eyes closed, and the ghost of his soft, even breathing. "Blow me, dumbcough."

21 .

Go Avay (continued) - by andrew ryans caddy


--------------------------------

The cheapasses in charge here didn't give them beds anywhere near big enough for two, but Scout kept ending up in Medic's anyway.

What? His room was nicer. Got like sun in the morning or some shit. Also it was pretty funny to see Medic naked and with his hair all stuck up all over the place, way different from how everybody else only got to see him all wrapped up in a labcoat, and it was funny how the first thing he did was grope his hand around for his glasses to get a better look at the totally hot guy in bed with him.

This time Scout was the first awake, and it was quiet. He wasn't used to that. At home there was always somebody putting shoes on or rattling through the closet or talking somewhere until it seemed like the world had been going on for hours without you. The blinds were open and threw in fat bright bars of sunlight onto the bed, around where Scout was wedged between Medic and the opposite wall.

He didn't feel any need to get up right away. There weren't any fights scheduled this morning, and it was nice to just lie around a bit without the announcer yelling through the loudspeakers. There wasn't even the usual daybreak sound of Soldier yelling at the dumb rooster Heavy'd stolen from the REDs (he thought it was cute) to DO YOUR GOD-GIVEN JOB, IF YOU THINK WE GIVE OUT FREE RIDES HERE YOU ARE GOING TO FIND YOURSELF SERVING YOUR COUNTRY AS A SORELY MISTAKEN PLATE OF NUGGETS. He must've been sleeping in for once, or stuck between a naked guy and a wall like Scout was. He'd been acting weird lately, talking real quiet, which is to say you couldn't hear him from across the room, mostly around Demo...

Okay, that was something Scout really, really didn't need to think about. Thinking about Soldier having sex was like thinking about your mom having sex, except your crazy mom who kept yelling at you to SHINE THOSE BOOTS MAGGOT I WANT TO SEE MY FACE IN THEM no matter how many times you pointed out that you were wearing sneakers and there were plenty of mirrors in the bathroom, jeez.

Anyway, lying there was nice for five minutes or so. Then Scout got bored. Also, he had a bad case of being a healthy young man early in the morning, and it was jabbing Medic's thigh at an angle that was getting uncomfortable.

"Hey." He poked Medic in the arm. "You gonna sleep forever or what?"

"Past sunrise for vunce vould be nice," he said without moving or opening his eyes. His voice was all foggy, the way people's were first thing.

"Wuss. The sun's been up for ages."

"Vas a figure of speech." He flopped his hand around like trying to gesture, but there wasn't much room, so he ended up just kinda patting Scout on the chest instead. "Ja, ja, I am getting up."

He looked different without his glasses on. Less like the doctor running around ducking bullets and putting people back together and more like just a guy you'd see anywhere. He looked more naked with them off than without clothes. It made you realize he had eyelashes.

"I said wake up," Scout said, pushing the blankets out of the way and climbing on top of him. "I didn't say anything about getting out of bed."

Scout kissed him and it was still new, like something he hadn't quite figured out if he could really do anytime he wanted. Medic ran his hands up and down his forearms, which felt way sexier than Scout would ever've thought. His hands were real soft from being in those gloves all the time. Also he was a really good kisser.

Scout was sort of getting the hang of this. He'd never been shy around touching people, but still it was weird to touch somebody else in the places and the ways you always had to be careful not to when you were wrestling or horsing around. Just running his hands up for the sake of feeling the ridges of the ribs under his fingertips, and watching how Medic's stomach rose up and down underneath. Scout's model for what a body was like was his own, and Medic's was like it in some ways, but different. Like how Scout'd never thought that little dip in the bone under your throat was anything special, but when he kissed there, Medic made some really interesting sounds. Scout liked how he could make him lose it a little, like getting to a secret nobody else got to see.

"Ve vill be late to breakfast," Medic said, sounding and looking like he thought something was funny, kind of a smile that was getting less drowsy.

Scout sat up and straddled him. "You give a shit?"

"Not really."

Medic reached up and pulled him down to kiss him, and it was really weird when your reflexes said anybody who grabbed you was gonna get you in a headlock and bash your face into a wall, but Scout figured he could get used to it. Scout liked how different Medic was in bed from the all-business guy he was on the field, and not just because he hated assumptions about fighting and screwing styles being the same because if he heard one more goddamn crack about being fast, he was gonna smack somebody's skull inside out.

Medic smelled like guy and like fancy soap. Scout'd thought that was only for girls. Normal soap was good enough for him, you know, the gluey white bar that was older than he could remember and in a weird shape from being stuck back together a dozen times. Did they make fancy soap for guys? Maybe in Germany. It was a definite guy smell.

"I vant to show you something good," Medic murmured. His breath tickled Scout's ear.

"Yeah?" said Scout, who always had to ask since he was fast enough to get out of any trouble his curiosity got him into.

"Ja. But you must follow my directions exactly."

That would sound a lot more stern and official if it weren't coming from a guy with his hair falling loose over his forehead and his nipples showing. That's another thing you never knew without touching, that his hair was soft.

Scout's eyebrows went one up and one down. "What sorta directions we talkin about, Doc?"

Medic sat up on his elbows, kind of throwing off Scout's balance, but he could improvise. Medic was trying to give him a look over glasses that weren't there. "Herr Scout, you have let me put your organs back into place vith nothing more than commands zat I hurry up. I zink you can trust me vith a simple thing like this."

Okay, so maybe that made some sense. Still, it wasn't like a prom date, where you knew what was gonna happen and who was gonna get to second base. Did guys even have bases? "Yeah, but respawn doesn't cover my ass."

They probably measured it with soccer or something else totally gay.

"Relax, leibchen," Medic said, running his hands up and down Scout's hips so it was tough to get pissed at how his little smile was kind of whats-the-word. Patron something. Not the tequila. "I am not going to be doing anyzing to you."

If Scout had known the word, the little smile on Medic's face would've made him forget it. Along with his own name.

"You are going to be doing to me."

They did call it batting for the other team, though.

While Scout was trying to think of a response that was more sexy and suave than yes please, Medic reached over and felt around in the drawer of the bedside table. In a minute his hand came out holding a jar.

"Isn't that the stuff you grease your gun with?" Scout said.

"On ze battlefield, vun must improvise," Medic answered as he dipped Scout's fingers in the cool, smooth stuff and told him what to do next.

"You crazy?" Scout said, and was going to climb off him except it was hard to get the leverage and a lot of really vocal parts of his body liked it there. "I'm not stickin' anything up your butt! That's gross, man!"

Medic's eyebrows had a way of moving around all sorts of ways, like those flags they used to send messages over the distance before they figured out they could just use a phone. "As a matter of fact, you have no reason for concern. The anus is a very efficient self-cleaning organ. "

Scout stared at him for a second. Then he couldn't help it and started giggling like a loon.

"Man, Doc, you are lucky you're hot, cause that is without a freakin' doubt the worst sexy talk I have ever heard."

Medic rolled his eyes. "Get off of me."

"Hey, c'mon, I didn't mean it like that."

"Do as I say," he said, and there was a promise in his voice that got Scout to actually do it. He rolled off and got up on his knees, waiting for something interesting to happen that'd make up for not having Medic's body between his legs anymore, which would take a lot.

Medic rolling over, getting on his hands and knees, and looking at him over his shoulder in a way that had to mean get on with it, for example.

For once, something to say wasn't right on Scout's tongue and jumping out his mouth. He had to go looking for it.

"Um," he said, gesturing in a way that didn't help much, "what am I supposed to do?"

It was one thing to figure, yeah, liking it when a guy sucked your dick was probably faggy, another to deal with him pointing his ass at you.

"Start with your fingers, bitte," Medic said, and yeah, Scout caught him rolling his eyes. Prick. Hot, naked prick. "Use ze lubricant."

"You are one bossy fag," Scout said. "You sure, man? This stuff is cold."

"It vill varm up." He kind of wriggled his ass, and if he wanted Scout to be able to think that was not the right way to go about it. "Hurry up, ve don't have all day."

There wasn't anything to do except start sticking fingers up his butt. Scout started out with one, going slow, still half convinced Medic was going to turn around and smack the crap out of him. Instead he just watched over his shoulder and nodded along, making little encouraging sounds, like Scout was moving his furniture for him.

"That's right, zere. Keep going."

It was a surreal feeling. Not really bad though. Scout'd never thought about what this kind of thing felt like from the inside. Sort of warm and tight, and yeah, it was a whole new thing to think about putting his dick in there.

"Add anozer," Medic said. His breathing was steady, but Scout got the feeling it was taking some effort. He did what Medic said, cause at the end of the day, a guy had the last call on what went in his butt.

The sun through the blinds made right lines on his body and highlighted how deep the black of his hair was, and made the streaks of silver shine. There was something about being the center of an older guy's attention. One who thought Scout was good enough to give him time of day. He was rocking back a little, and his face was tilted up. His hair moved around a lot more when there wasn't that stuff he put in to make it stiff and shiny. Scout put his hand on Medic's hip for balance.

"Scissor your fingers."

"You sure?" When he nodded, head dipping down below his shoulders, Scout did. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"Nein." Medic shifted around to open his legs up more. His hand was pressing down hard on the mattress, making little valleys around the fingers. "A little. Like ze ache of running, or ze bruises of a vinning fight."

Scout had to say he was pretty impressed with how the doc kept his cool. Maybe that's what made his stomach jump when he curled his fingers a little and Medic gasped, with his eyes gone wide.

"Sorry, sorry! Am I not supposed to do that?" Shit, Scout didn't know the rules here! He sure as hell didn't want to break anything.

"Again," Medic said, rocking himself back onto Scout's fingers.

Scout tried to remember what he'd done and where he'd touched. This time he watched Medic's face as close as he could while he was around the other end, though he didn't even have to, because he could feel it through the hand on medic's hip, how he tensed and arched his back while his lips opened and let out a moan you could tell he was trying to keep quiet cause it wasn't much more than a breath.

Scout noticed his cock was so hard it hurt.

"Sehr gut," Medic murmured, and it was a good thing it was too himself cause Scout sure didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

"English, doc, you gotta tell me what to do here."

"You're doing very vell on your own." Christ, who'd ever heard Medic's voice go like that before, especially wiggling his hips like that? Come to think of it, running around hauling a laser heal gun and trying to keep all of them glued together gave you a serious case of nice ass. He was breathing hard, and his back was arching.

"Now, take me."

Scout's mind went blank. "Like, what, to the movies?"

"No, dummkopf," Medic growled, twisting around to glare at him and sounding a lot more like himself, naked and with his hair stuck to his forehead a little with sweat or not. "Ze ozzer sense."

"Zee....ohh."

"Slick yourself vell, I don't vant to be injured by your clumsiness." He had the stern thing in his voice down pretty well until Scout pulled his fingers out and it ended in a moan.

Scout didn't think he'd ever done anything faster than he got that lube on.

He wasn't really sure where to put his hands. They ended up on Medic's hips, and he didn't seem to mind, so he went with that. He got things all lined up, and hesitated.

"So do I just...?"

"Ja," Medic panted, pushing back so that Scout could feel him at the tip of his cock. "You just."

At first he thought it wasn't going to work. Then he pushed a little harder.

"Oh Christ fuck shit motherfucker goddamn."

"Yes," said Medic. His head was arching back, making this throat stand out.

Scout pressed in slow, or at least he thought it was slow, he didn't have any standards to go by here. Medic grabbed the headboard with one hand and made this sound that was like a car that wouldn't start except incredible.

"Zat's right," Medic panted. "Keep going, just like zat."

Truth was, Scout didn't need to be told anymore. He was the kind of guy who trusted his body more than his brain, and if his brain said this should be gross and weird, his body disagreed by moving out and in a little, and shit, shit that was nice, so Scout did it some more.

Medic let out a moan that must have come from down in the pit of his stomach, arching and grabbing so the muscles in his arms stood out. He whispered, "Mehr..."

Scout was sliding out a little, and said, "Man, I told you, I don't speak that shit!"

Medic reached back and grabbed his thigh to pull him in, leaning his head back with eyes with more open punch-you-in-the-gut want than Scout'd ever seen, and said, "More."

There were times you just didn't argue.

Scout let his body do what it wanted, and that was fuck Medic like there was no tomorrow.

He made sounds that might've been German or might've just been sounds, all Scout knew was they were good and all he had to do to get more was move into him. It was like running except in place and it felt like angels and magic and all that goofy stuff except on his dick.

Medic let go of Scout's leg so he could jack himself off, mumbling and moaning stuff that had to be obscene. Scout was moving in a wild way he couldn't even think about controlling, and even thinking at all was more than he could handle right now except if it was hot and fuck and good, and when he came it was like having his lights punched out by an angel.

While he was still halfway to la-la land, he felt Medic grabbing his hand and moving it on his dick, which seemed like a pretty good idea. Scout'd never jerked off anybody who wasn't him, but it was pretty much the same, except for how it felt different and the gasps Medic made until he spilled over his hand and dropped onto the bed.

Scout rolled off of him, or tried to. He got stuck up against the wall again. That was okay. Felt kinda nice and cool against how hot his skin was. Right now, the wall could get blasted down by a pile of dynamite and it'd be okay.

It felt real quiet, now, with just the birds outside and Medic's breathing as it slowed down. He looked relaxed, with his eyes lidded and a smile kind of curling around the corners of his mouth.

Scout said, "Gaddamn."

Medic said, "Mm-hm."

"You give pretty good instructions."

Medic laughed, slow and deep. "You sveet talker."

It was quiet again for a minute. Good quiet. That was the thing about Medic; he didn't chatter all the time just cause he felt like he was supposed to.

"We should probably go down to breakfast, huh," Scout said.

Medic moved around to fit him better by his side. "It's Pyro's turn to cook. Zey vill be flicking ze burners off and on to stare at zem for a vhile yet."

"Good thing. Don't feel like movin' yet." Scout flopped over Medic, just to bug him, but instead of trying to push him off he just laughed, so he settled in. "S'nice here."

Even if the company did need to give them bigger beds. Cheap bastards.

22 .

21 Man Caddy just reposted this the other day

23 .

God damn it. All right, does anyone still need Child Molestee, or is that up too?

24 .

I've got some fics that I saved for reading a while ago. Not sure if some of them were popular or anything, but there are a few gems that seemingly went unnoticed. (most are general fic, but this is the only recovery thread)

A Necessary End
As Long As I Got You (REDUX) (deal w/ it kilo)
Asymptote
Blutsauger
Body and Soul
Don't Fear the Reaper
Helmets, Possibly Parties
King of My Hill
Knives n' Shit
Lessons
Our Secret
Sans Face
Unnamed TeratoMarty fic (spiderhoovy)
The Team Meets The Team
Ties (adult parts included)
Traume

http://www.mediafire.com/?10lb2ynhisivxce

25 .

Does anyone still have that Engie/Scout afanfic by either DuskZephyr or Zuul?
(I'm pretty sure it was Zuul though)
Or any Engie/Scout fic in general that they might have saved?
My previous collection died along with my laptop.

26 .

So like, I'm not sure if anyone actually saved the archives from the previous chan that just went down, but I have all the /afanfic/, /fanfic/, and chat logs from before. There are some really great fics in there, oh my goodness.

I've put them up on mediafire in .html files within a zip folder, just in case no one saved it. (And if everyone already has the archives, WELL. I would be a dumbnut, so then just ignore this post.)

Let me know if they're fully working, thanks.

/afanfic/

http://www.mediafire.com/?krtjeim4k4czi8c

/fanfic/

http://www.mediafire.com/?e291od9lxiquk39

Chat Logs (some are epic fic in RP form, and the rest are hilarious.)

http://www.mediafire.com/?w649kwxy35hrwwm

27 .

Here's some more. I didn't visit this chan for a while so I don't have any recent fics, sorry.

http://www.mediafire.com/?eguvckgucrjdpek

28 .

several bears, I downloaded your link, but got a bunch of technobabble ish code instead.
is there something i need to download to view it?

29 .

>>28
You need Winrar to extract the files. I saved the webpages, not the fics themselves, so they're all html files.

30 .

herp derp how the fuck do i respond to posts in this text-only format

31 .

Looking for 'A Boy and his Tentaspy' if anyone has it

I don't think it's in the archives...

32 .

>>23

I can't find it currently-- gimme Child Molestee pretty plox?

33 .

>>19

huh, so somebody cared that was gone

that would be http://www.megaupload.com/?d=CAI9MGDJ

i actually lost that link myself and found again by searching "hot chicks should sleep with me instead" 'cause the google cache is kind of un-updated, that should help some of you other guys a lot looking for the more recent fics

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=KJ6QAT5H

also i'll just leave that here too

...stupid k's and t's have way too much fucking static and why are they in THE MOST COMMON CURSE WORDS

34 .

Does anyone have Addiction? It had Spy and Scout and Scout stole Spy's ciggs so they both fuck in order for Spy to get them back?

35 .

French Lessons is the only thing I have saved, but I have alternate links to It Gets Me Places and Ridiculosity so here if y'all love these too <3

French Lessons
http://www.megaupload.com/?d=0T6VG1QM

It Gets Me Places
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5447372/1/It_Gets_Me_Places

Ridiculosity
1. http://idlepabulum.livejournal.com/2445.html

TYVM for Ties several bears

Oh and someone has got to have Just To Make Myself More Attractive To You. :]

36 .

Oh shit and A Dangerous Kiss that was the best thing ever fucking written.

37 .

All right, this time I checked and confirmed it's not up in his particular thread yet, so here it is, albeit sans author's notes:

Child Molestee - by Teratomarty


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The Sniper and the Scout were engaged in target practise, which is to say, the Sniper was methodically sending arrows through the bullseye, trying to get his speed up, while the Scout blasted his scattergun in the general direction of the targets.

"Why'ncha get a REAL weapon?" the Scout mocked. The scattergun roared out as he unleashed a hail of bullets downrange. A few of them hit the bales of hay they were theoretically aiming at.

"The bow's a fine weapon. Silent, quick to reload, and out in the brush, you can make your own ammo. I'd thank you to keep to your own target, mind. Crafting 'em takes a while." The Sniper drew the bow and fired in one effortless motion.

His sheer calm infuriated the Scout. He was going to get to the Sniper if it was the last thing he did. "Yeah, right. You just never got over playing Cowboys And Indians. It's a freakin' kids' weapon!"

The Sniper nocked, pulled and fired, again piercing the bullseye without apparently aiming. "You think so?" the Sniper gave a faint half-smile. "Why don't you have a go, show me just how easy it is." Nock, pull, fire, and he handed the weapon to the Scout.

Scout glared at the weapon. "Sure thing. Ya realise, ya look like a total faggot, prancin' around with this thing?" He yanked at the string, which barely budged. With a mighty heave, he managed to draw the bow, and held it with trembling arms. "Ya want people ta think you're a homo?"

"Why should I care if they know?" the Sniper said quietly.

Several things happened quite quickly. The Scout started to yelp in surprise, let go of the bowstring, which peeled the skin off the inside of his forearm, and the yelp changed to a scream of pain,

"What the HELL, man?" The Scout clasped his smarting arm to his chest, dropping the bow.

"Don't dry-fire it, never drop it, they're both bad for the weapon." The Sniper's slightly wider smile belied his instructive calm. Scout knew the asshole was laughing at him.

"You can't just SAY shit like that... oh shit oh shit oh shit, you're not gonna try an' jam something up my ass now! Exit only, EXIT ONLY!"

By now, the Sniper was genuinely laughing, a quiet chuckle, but nonetheless. "Not bloody likely, mate, I'm a bottom. What would I do, hold yer at gunpoint 'til you agreed to roger me rotten? I don't know how your tastes run, runt, but doesn't seem likely!" The Australian walked down-range to get his arrows, shoulders still shaking, and left the Scout gaping behind him.

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The Scout was in a state of shock for days. Running around the base, he'd think: no-one just ADMITS that! Bashing in skulls: what's that even mean, a bottom? Grabbing the RED intel: he actually wants guys to do THAT? He was burning with curiosity.

It was bad enough when there was a battle on, and at least he had hollering enemies to keep him distracted. Alone in his bunk, he wondered. How could the Sniper be an actual fag? How did he turn into a fag? Did he want to be a lady, or something? Did something gross happen to make him a fag? Did he LIKE it? The Scout briefly wondered what it felt like to have THAT done to you, but firmly vetoed any thoughts of anal experimentation on his own. Poop comes from there.

He jerked off, resolutely thinking of anything BUT the Sniper.

A few days later, when his teammates' random collisions left him alone in the mess hall with the Sniper, his curiosity boiled over. "Yo, Snipes," he said, almost without thinking, "so you're a fag?"

"Aye." As the Sniper took another bite of his lunch, it became clear that this was as far as his answer went.

"But, man, I mean," the Scout tried to distil the life-altering cognitive dissonance generated by a homosexual Sniper into a concise statement: "HOW?!"

"... Generally I'd like to go out for drinks with a bloke a few times, maybe go walkabout in the bush for a couple days, get to know each other..." the Sniper smiled wryly.

"No!" the Scout hissed, aware that he was being mocked and terrified that someone might hear him even talking about this. "I mean, why guys? How do you even WANT guys? Do you even KNOW about girls?"

The Sniper grimaced slightly. "Scout, I know you're just curious an' all, but do try not to be a total wanker, right? I just like blokes. I like how they look, how they laugh, how they smell, how their hands feel. Yes, I've tried it with sheilas, and yes, they're softer and all, but it's just not me cuppa, all right?"

"Awright, awright, I'm just... tryina get a handle on this." Scout thought for a moment- a very short moment. "So you really let guys DO IT to ya? I mean, WHY? Did someone touch you funny as a kid an' make ya weird?"

"Much as I appreciate your concern for me psychological well-being, you've gotta understand: now yer just bein' disgustin'. No-one 'made me weird.' I've just liked blokes, for as long as I can remember. I have gone to great and occasionally embarrassing lengths to keep a bloke's attention."

"So you just... LIKE it?"

"What better reason to do anything, runt? I could've stayed in the Smoke, become a doctor, married some poor sad sheila... but I didn't want to. So I went to the bush, taught meself to hit a gnat in the eye from a mile away, got into interestin' situations with a variety of blokes, and generally did as I bloody well pleased." He stood up and tipped his hat. As he walked away, Scout couldn't think of any further questions.

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Scout did come up with more questions about the Sniper's... situation later that day, though, and even more that night. Some of them concerned things like the term "cocksucker" and what that might mean in terms of someone who really WOULD... but some of them were things he could actually ask someone about. Not the Sniper, though.

"Yo DOC!" the Scout let himself into the infirmary.

"Yes, Scout?" The Medic hardly looked up from the gory illustrations in the medical book he was reading.

"I need to ask you some questions." The Scout kicked a spare chair around and sat on it backward, heedless of the German's lack of enthusiasm. "What makes someone a homo?"

"Do you mean, what is the cause of homosexuality?" The Medic rolled his eyes, but put a bookmark in his text.

"Yeah. Like, why?"

"Zere are many theories, Scout," the Medic shifted into lecture mode. "However, ze most popular misconception is zat all men who engage in homosexual activity are ze same. Zere are actually four distinct conditions, vhich share some symptoms and may confuse ze layman." Medic said "layman," but clearly meant both "moron" and "Scout."

"Yeah?" The Scout was willing to overlook it as long as he got some solid answers.

"Ze first is ze obligatory receptive homosexual. Effeminate in both body und mannerisms, he is essentially a voman in a man's body. Suggested treatment is surgery und hormone therapy to make him into a true voman." Weeeeird, thought Scout, but he didn't interrupt.

"Second is ze psychological receptive homosexual. Owing to trauma in his early life, possibly resulting from a domineering mutter and a veak or absent father. Zis type is confused as to ze nature of affection. He can und vill make love to a voman, but he seeks out men to replace an absent father-figure." Now that sounded like Sniper, he'd said he was missing something with girls. "Suggested treatment, psychoanalysis und avoidance of all-male environments." Yeah, right, thought Scout. That's not gonna happen in 2Fort. Snipes is screwed.

"Zen, zere are ze active types of homosexual behaviour. Ze most pathological is the aggressive active homosexual. He seeks to exert power over other men by assaulting zem sexually. It is an arrested development of the Oedipal complex; such men will primarily assault men who remind them of their fathers and only form immature relationships with vomen. Suggested treatment, chemical castration until psychoanalysis proceeds far enough to cure ze Oedipal fixation." Oh, Scout thought, that explains the stories about rapey fags.

"Finally, zere is the opportunistic active behaviour. Zis is not truly a homosexuality, but an over-active and undirected sexual drive. Such men cannot control their sexual urges, und vill engage in homosexual activity when no other option presents itself. Treatment involves cold showers, healthful exercise, und avoidance of all-male environments. Vith proper precaution, paid female companionship may abate the sexual urge to reasonable levels." Fuckin' A, thought Scout, Doc just prescribed me a hooker!

"Thanks, Doc!" The cout sprinted out the door and went for a run to clear his head. An overactive sex drive didn't sound so bad to the Scout. And if 2Fort's cold showers and constant battles didn't "abate" him or whatever, nothing could. It didn't sound like a medical condition, it sounded like bragging rights! Also, he added in the back of his mind, it's totally not my fault that I'm curious about the Sniper. It's not even his fault, his parents messed with his head or something.

Bemused, the Medic went back to his book.

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Now that he knew what was going on with Sniper and the contents of his own trousers, Scout could see the logic. A guy with an overactive sex drive had to be practical about things. He'd signed up for a five-year hitch with BLU, and in the absence of any girls, he wasn't going to get ANY until he turned 23! That was an impossibly long time. But if Sniper wanted to, if it would make him feel better about his parents and stuff, then why not help each other out? The early alarm for the beginning of the day's battle sounded, and Scout prepared to join the fray. He was able to concentrate much better today, now that he had a plan. He dominated the day, and prepared to dominate the night.

Time seemed to crawl by. Dinner (disgusting), the Soldier's briefing (boring), watching TV with his teammates (agonizing). Eventually, after Star Trek, the Sniper said good-night and peeled off to do whatever he did in his van. After waiting a discreet interval of fifteen seconds, the Scout followed him.

"Yo, Snipes," the Scout trailed the Sniper to his van and kicked the flimsy door shut behind him. "I been thinkin'. You like to suck cock, right? So, I was thinkin', how 'bout I let you suck my cock?"

The Sniper raised an eyebrow. "I've 'eard worse pick-up lines, but they were delivered by blokes with a gun to me 'ead."

"Well, I don't know how it's s'posta go. Whattaya want, chocolate an' flowers?"

"Actually, a bottle of wine never goes amiss, but no. Look, Scout, I sussed out that you were curious from the frog-eye stares I've been seeing lately, but, no."

"C'mon, man, why not? Doc says I gotta overactive sex drive; I need to... yanno."

"Scout, ALL blokes your age have an overactive sex drive, which is part of the problem. You're too young for me."

"What? 'Fraid you couldn't keep up, old man?"

The Sniper rolled his eyes behind his tinted glasses. "No, Scout. We 'ave nothing in common, you're not my type, an' shagging your teammates is a terrible idea."

"What do we need to have in common? YOU'RE stuck out here, I'M stuck out here, you need to smoke some pole, and I need my pole smoked!"

"Scout, you sweet-talker," Sniper said dryly.

"So what's your type, then? Ya want Solly comin' onta ya? 'Cause I guarantee I got a way bigger dick."

The Sniper pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. "No, Scout, Solly is not my type, either. Anyhow, I think you're forgetting that we all shower together; don't make claims that are so laughingly easy to disprove, right?" Allowing Scout to sputter, Sniper continued. "Just so you know, my type is clever, funny, cocky blokes who know what they want."

"Awright, so, if Solly was all that stuff and not Mister HUT HUT HUT MAGGOTS all the time, you'd rather have him than me?"

"Scout, if Solly were charming and witty, he wouldn't BE Solly! It's a nonsense. I'm not about to get involved with anyone on base, right? Now bugger off."

The Scout left, only to jack off furiously in his bunk. He thought of Sniper. Thought about how good it would feel to have an actual mouth on his cock. Sniper wanted it, right? That was what Medic had said. He needed it, to fix his fucked-up family shit. Eventually, Sniper would ask for it, would beg for it. Beg for it- Scout came, biting his lip to keep from screaming.

Shit, he wanted Sniper.

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A few nights later, Scout decided to try again with Sniper. He hatched a plan to get the marksman while his defences were down. Get him while he's asleep! Just start rubbing up on him! By the time he wakes up, he'll be halfway to giving a blowjob, so why not just finish? In the Scout's humble opinion, it was genius.

Around one in the morning, the Scout sneaked out to the Sniper's van. He'd never noticed quite how loud walking over sand was. He forced himself to go slow, but the bumper of the van creaked when he stepped up on it. He listened at the door, and didn't hear anything for a moment- shit, what if he'd woken the guy up? After listening for a moment longer, a rasping snore allayed the Scout's fears. Operation Get-A-Blowjob was GO!

Sliding the door open as quietly as possible, Scout crept across the tiny space. The Sniper's breathing was reassuringly deep and regular. He was asleep on a narrow fold-down cot facing the door, his hand under his pillow. Almost cute, actually. The Scout stalked forward-

"SPY ROUND HERE!" the Sniper hollered, swinging his kukri out from under his pillow and cleaving the Scout's skull like a coconut.

A few minutes later, the Sniper was waiting when the Scout respawned.

"Sorry about that, mate, but what in blazes were you doing?"

"You killed me!"

"I'm an assassin! You think I got this old without keeping one eye open?"

"You killed the Hell outta me!"

"I said I was sorry!"

"No, it was AWESOME! You just came out all WHACK WHACK CHOP!"

Sniper looked tired, even for a man who'd been awakened at one in the morning. "What were you doing in me kip?"

"I was seeing if I could get you to blow me in your sleep."

"Jaysus Kee-rist."

"No chance of an apology blowjob? For chopping up my brain?"

"You weren't using it anyway. Go back to bed, Scout."

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The kukri to the forehead put a damper on Scout's efforts to get a blowjob out of the Sniper. Their interactions gradually slid back to normal over the next few weeks- the Scout stopped staring at the Sniper, and the Sniper stopped ignoring the Scout. The Boston boy decided to forget he'd ever even tried, and attempted to direct his onanistic efforts toward pin-up girls. It worked, sometimes.

Then, it was phone call day. The phone in the intel room was patched through to the outside world, and each member of the team was allowed a fifteen-minute long-distance call to his family. They went alphabetically by class, the Scout right before the Sniper. Afer the Announcer told him to ring off with his mother, the Scout hung around in the hall to hear what the Australian said.

First came "Hi, Mum, it's me," followed by a string of amiable mumbling, cut off midstream, then conciliatory mumblings. There were further cheerful mutters, then the tone changed entirely. "Hallo, Dad." The Sniper sounded wary, guarded. He was trying to apologise, then to explain. Louder sentences got cut off short, Australian curses bitten in half. It went quiet in the Intel room, so quiet that the Scout pressed his ear to the door, and suddenly the Sniper slammed down the phone.

The scout was still poised embarrassingly close to the door when the Sniper strode through, looking more haggard than he would after a day of being repeatedly shivved by the enemy Spy.

"Get a good earful, runt?" he snapped.

"Uhh... sounds like they put ya through the mill."

"They hate me," the Sniper said flatly.

"They don't HATE you," the Scout assured his teammate. "They get disappointed, they yell an' holler, but they love you. You're their kid," he said, as if that explained it all.

"I'm one long string of failures."

"Not from where I'm standing. You can shoot anything, from anywhere, survive for MONTHS in the middle of freakin' nowhere, and you went from 'asleep' to 'chopping my head open' in like two seconds flat." The Scout followed the Sniper down the hall. It was the Soldier's turn to call whoever he had to talk to.

The Sniper smiled wryly. "That's not exactly about to win my parents' approval."

"Medic says you're only a homo 'cause you wish your father loved you."

Sniper stopped dead in his tracks, and looked momentarily ready to cry. Closing his eyes, he said, "Scout, if I were trying to earn me dad's love, I can think of at least eighty things to try before sleepin' with other blokes. One of 'em involves slaughtering a water buffalo in me mum's front garden, so just... shut up. And don't talk about me behind me back."

"Sorry, man... sorry." The Scout felt like utter shit. "I... I didn't say anything about you. I just told him I needed to know." He thought for another minute, but culdn't come up with anything better to say than, "I'm really sorry."

The Sniper took a deep breath, jerked himself upright, and looked at the Scout with a steely glare. "You still want that blowjob?"

"What?" The Scout could feel his brain burn out its clutch as he tried to change gears.

"I said, d'you want to put your cock in my mouth an' let me do the dirtiest, most enjoyable thing known to Man." His voice was a rough whisper.

"I mean, uh, OF COURSE, but... why now?"

"Because I'm lonely and angry and miserable, and sucking blokes off makes me happy. Come on."

Scout followed the Sniper out to his van, his pants already uncomfortably tight. It was hot and cramped in the bump-out camper, and smelt of dust, baked mildew and bachelorhood. As far as Scout was concerned, it was the perfume of raw erotic power. He stripped off all his clothing and stood naked in the centre of the little room almost before the Sniper could lock the door.

"Eager, I notice," the Sniper looked sideways at the Scout's erection.

"Oh, Hell yeah." the Scout stroked his cock.

"Heh. Get on the bed."

The Scout flopped down full-length on the little cot, groping his chest, legs and thighs, showing off. The Sniper knelt, head bowed, and kissed the Scout's thigh. The Boston boy could barely breathe- holy shit, he was really gonna do it! The Sniper nuzzled and licked the Scout's belly and inner thighs, losing himself in touch, taste and scent. He carefully avoided the runner's cock, until the younger man whined in frustration.

"All roight, all roight," the Australian smiled slyly. "Patience is a virtue, aye?" He slurped down on the Scout's cock.

The Scout felt like he had double-jumped off the edge of Offblast. He couldn't breathe, his stomach was in free-fall, he clutched wildly at the sheets. After a moment, the Sniper eased back, and the sensation resolved itself to merely the most amazing thing the Scout had ever felt.

For all that he was a good Catholic boy, the Scout thought he'd come up with some pretty inventive methods of masturbation. The Sniper's hot, deep, velvety mouth trumped all of them, though. He bucked up wildly, fucking the older man's face, grabbing messy handfuls of his slicked-back hair.

The Sniper took it all, resting one hand on the Scout's pelvis to moderate his thrusts, sliding the other up the younger man's chest to play with his nipples. The Scout couldn't believe the squeaks and moans coming from his own throat. When the Sniper simultaneously pinched a nipple, rolled his thumb over the Scout's hipbone and swirled his tongue around the head of the Scout's cock, that was it. The Scout groaned inarticulately, grabbed the Sniper's head, and shoved his cock down the older man's throat. He came to the incomparable sensation of the Sniper swallowing around his cock.

To say that the Scout had never felt anything like it before would be an understatement. He came, and when he thought he was almost done, the Sniper would swallow again, and the Scout was still coming. He struggled, but the Sniper pinned his hips and wrung another few throbs out of him. Dazed and blissful, the Scout was too busy looking at the stars on the inside of his eyelids to notice when the Sniper pulled off, patted his cock dry, and laid down beside him.

He did notice, though, when the bed began to shake. Peeling his eyes open, he saw that the Sniper had his pants down around his knees and was jerking himself frantically, the fingers of his left hand sliding deep between his thighs. The Scout watched, riveted- it was filthy, and completely thrilling.

"You're totally finger-banging your own ass, ain'tcha?"

"Aye- " the Sniper's reply was breathy, desperate.

"Holy shit, you're a fucking faggot." It wasn't so much an accusation as a revelation, sounding almost like admiration from the Scout. The Sniper moaned his agreement.

"You really like taking it up the ass, don't you?!"

The Sniper groaned in abandon, and the motion of his hands sped up. Scout noticed that he had a boner again, and had a brilliant idea.

"Yo, Snipefag, knock it off." He put a possessive hand on the Sniper's thigh.

"Christ, Scout, what? I'm not exactly in the mood for second thoughts!"

"Even the second thought where me an' my overactive sex drive bang your ass for you?"

Sniper looked up, stunned. "You're serious?"

"'Course I'm goddamn serious. Take off your pants, wombat."

The Sniper didn't have to be told twice, and struggled out of his clothing. He looked different naked, the Scout noticed. Less like the stone-faced Sniper and more like a guy who could seriously almost cry in the hall outside the Intel room. Scout didn't like thinking about that; he just wanted to feel a new part of the Sniper around his dick. "Bite some pillow, pillow-biter."

"I like it on my back," the Sniper's eyes flashed, "an' I'm the expert 'round here. Kneel up at the end of the bed."

The Scout did as he was told. The Sniper hauled the pillow down to the middle of the bed, sat on it, and lay back. From there, he slid his long, lean legs around the Scout's waist. The runner shuddered with pleasure at the simple touch of the Sniper's calf on his hip.

"Roight, now come forward and lean- OW!" The Sniper struggled away as the Scout lunged forward, jabbing his erection toward where it seemed like it ought to go.

"Blimey, mate, I hope y'don't try it like that with the sheilas!" The Sniper held the Scout back with one long arm, and the Scout wasn't about to mention he'd never tried anything with any girl. "Here, let me aim yer..." the Australian guided the head of the Scout's cock to his ass. "Hold up a tick, I think we'll be needin' more of this." He grabbed a jar of Vaseline that was wedged beside the mattress, and smeared some on both of them. "Now, let's have a go, gentle-like. It's not a race."

The way the Scout's heart was hammering, it felt very much like a race, though he didn't bring it up. He concentrated on going where the Sniper put him, sliding into unbelievable hot tightness that seemed to be ridged in all the right places to drive him insane. It looked like it was doing something for the Sniper, as well. He grunted underneath the Scout, red-faced, panting, until the Scout slid forward and-

"Aauh!"

"Oh holy shit man did I hurt you? Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry-" the Scout froze, every joke about how painful ass sex was suddenly taking on terrible new meaning.

"Oh- fuckin' 'ell, mate, no, just do that again!"

The Scout shifted his hips experimentally, trying to move the same way-

"Oh CHRIST!" That was definitely a happy scream, and it made the Sniper's body tighten around the Scout. In the last moments before his brain shut down entirely, the Scout realised how wonderful the Sniper looked, the golden light pouring in through the camper's small windows onto the fine sheen of sweat over his long, taut limbs. Then, it was all just motion, heat, skin on skin, kisses and moans. The Scout slammed his hips against the Sniper, gripping him round the neck, swearing and nipping at the other man's lips. For his part, the Sniper bucked and wrapped his legs around the Scout's waist to draw him deeper.

The Scout's mind surfaced again, just long enough to think, "Let's see him worry about his stupid parents NOW," when suddenly the Sniper's body was tensing underneath him, his hand sliding between their bodies to stroke his cock.

"Oh, Scout," the older man moaned. "Please- harder- SCOUT!"

The Scout fucked the Sniper as fast and deep as his athletic body could manage. This was better than batting skulls, better than running, better than anything. Just when he wanted it to last forever, the Sniper came. The amazing pulsating tightness around the Scout's cock, the long, lean arms around his shoulders, the slide of their tongues over each other undid the Scout. He was coming, too, impossibly hard, impossibly long, deep inside the other man. He collapsed, overwhelmed by the ecstasy.

When he rolled off, he noticed that the Sniper's semen had hit him in the face. "Oh, GROSS," he scrubbed his cheek with a corner of the sheet.

"Boom, headshot, " the Sniper laughed roughly, stubble rasping the Scout's face as he licked the stickiness away. Suddenly, it was all too clear to the Scout that he had fucked a man.

"I'm not a fag, okay?" he said, pushing away from the Sniper.

"Sure you're not," the Australian agreed. He put his arm around the Scout, who didn't really register that the marksman was rolling his eyes. "Anyone who's ever been to jail knows, only the bitch on the bottom is a poofter."

"You're my bitch?" the Scout asked, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Of course." Another unheeded eyeroll.

"HA! You're totally my bitch! DOMINATED, roo-puncher!"

"Anything you say. Just go to sleep, aye?" The Sniper pulled the Scout down to rest on his chest, and the younger man was out almost before the Sniper finished his sentence.

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There are a few more sections after this, but they don't have any sex in them and the piece overall was left uncompleted. If you want them, let me know and I'll post them.

38 .

Insomnia is a beautiful thing. Here comes something else:

Asymptote - by Quise

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It’s been awhile, but Engineer can still remember the first day he had arrived, stepping off the train with his beat-up little suitcase, one side tied together with string, since the latch had broken on the way there.

Medic and Spy were there to greet him, their blue uniforms stark against the sand and dust. He spared a glance towards the train as it rattled off again, sweeping up a trail of dust in its wake.

He reached up to tip his helmet at them, saying, “I’m Engineer, I suppose. It’s good to meet you folks,” and extended his hand towards them for a handshake.

Medic nodded at him curtly. “You as well. I’m Medic, and this is Spy. You’ll be meeting the rest of us back at the base, I believe,” he said as he turned on his heel and led the way back to base, his hands neatly clasped behind his back.

For an awkward moment, Engineer stood with his hand hanging in the air.

Spy raised his eyebrows, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. “Well, it’s good to meet you,” he said, and finally reached out to shake Engineer’s hand. As he curled his fingers forward, Engineer expected to feel his fancy leather gloves, smooth against his palm.

And felt nothing but the dry, hot air of the desert.

Spy laughed as Engineer snatched his hand back from where it had sunk straight through Spy’s very solid-looking hand. His mouth hanging open, Engineer clenched and unclenched his hand, trying to figure out if he’d simply hallucinated something, the heat getting to him already.

“You’ll get used to it, laborer,” Spy said, still chuckling and snorting a bit as he turned towards the buildings in the distance.




The thing is, you did, really—by the end of the week, Engineer had already stopped flinching out of the way when Heavy made to stride right through him with guns ablaze, and now, it’s just part and parcel of the job.

He can’t quite explain how it works, which frustrates him, to some extent—he’s used to being able to break things down into their component parts and piece together their inner workings. Regardless, it becomes second nature to shoot straight through his teammates, or to test for Spies by passing a hand through a teammate’s arm. They all joke about what’s going to happen once they get back to the real world and try to stride straight through people on the street.

Engineer isn’t really a touchy-feely sort of guy, but he hadn’t realized how often he slapped a friend on the back in congratulations or tapped someone on the shoulder to get their attention, gestures that now leave his hand waving awkwardly in midair. As time goes on, he’s picked up the habit of whistling one sharp, piercing tone to get Demoman to turn towards him or to get Medic’s attention when he’s hunched over an anatomy book.

They all have their little tells, really, and you can’t live in close proximity with eight other men without noticing these kinds of things.

Scout always forgets—it must come from being from a family full of boys used to kicking and punching and whaling on each other at every occasion. He still goes in for a celebratory high-five at the end of matches—most of the time, now, he just laughs as their hands pass through each other, but every so often, he still stumbles forward a step. On one memorable occasion, he’d tried to leap onto Heavy’s back and put him in a headlock, and had ended up falling a good two stories or so when he’d passed right through and careened off the roof. It was a good thing the boy was pretty darn resilient.

As much as he barrels through people on the battlefield, Heavy always turns his massive shoulders sideways to squeeze past people in the narrow corridors underneath the base—evidently a lifelong habit born of maneuvering in spaces not intended for a man his size.

After hours, they generally try to respect the conventional boundaries of their bodies for politeness’ sake, which suits Engineer just fine. Pyro seems to ignore this unspoken social rule, his arm swishing through Engineer’s chest when he accompanies his slightly garbled stories with his usual enthusiastic hand gestures. Soon enough, Engineer learns to interpret these gestures as some weird sign of camaraderie, Pyro cheerfully waving a hand through his shoulder as he passes by.

When he pulls out his guitar in the evenings, Demoman often tries to loop a hand over his shoulder to forcibly drag him into a drunken chorus of “Braes o’ Killiecrankie”; depending on how many Engineer’s had, Engineer usually obliges him, though after a certain point, the singing’s most likely to dissolve into another discussion regarding the viability of adding a grenade launcher to the improved sentry he’s working on.

Engineer has to admit that there are aspects of the situation that he doesn’t mind. For one thing, it definitely discourages teammates from the temptation of using his helmet as an armrest. Also, Soldier’s peculiar brand of camaraderie gets a little less intimidating when his emphatic chest-prodding finger slips straight through Engineer’s chest.

Like Engineer, Sniper’s fond of his personal space; it’s only the end of matches that catches him occasionally, when he walks up with a cheerful “’Ey, good work out there, Truckie,” and a hand out for a polite handshake, only to give an embarrassed grin and tip his hat, instead.

Even Medic, who’s been here just as long as Heavy and Soldier, trips up from time to time. Every so often, Engineer still notices him reaching for the wrist for a pulse when he heals someone in the field, or moving to pull clothing away in order to examine a wound more closely.

Spy—Spy, though, is curiously immaterial, self-contained, his suit crisp and neat no matter how much dust is getting kicked up by sentry fire. He doesn’t seem to make the fumbles that most of them do. Sure, he gets killed and maimed the same as the rest of them, so it’s not as if he’s completely untouchable, and god knows his accent should be obnoxious enough to make his presence clear in Engineer’s mind, but—

But there’s a part of Engineer that gets almost anxious when Spy fades from sight, invisible and untouchable. It’s almost enough to make a man question his own senses, really—there’s just something off-putting about reaching out to touch something that you know can’t be touched, only to see it disappear in front of your eyes, too.

Then again, he’s always been partial to the more physical aspects of things. Math’s beautiful on its own, but it’s especially lovely when it manifests itself in a perfectly-timed ammo feed or a calibrated teleporter, abstract beauty arrested in a tangible object.

So it’s just part of the job.

-------------------------

It’s another hot day, and Engineer can’t help but savor the slight chill of a breeze down his neck as he tightens a bolt on his dispenser. At the next light gust of air, though, he tenses, and then turns with the next breath, his wrench swinging through the air, expecting it to impact satisfyingly on RED Spy’s skull. Instead, it whooshes right through, and all he gets is Spy fading into sight and laughing.

“A little high-strung today, aren’t we? Well, perhaps not high-strung enough—if I had been RED, I believe you’d be headed back to respawn this very second with a knife lodged in your back.”

“Ain’t you got better things to do than sneakin’ around and givin’ your own team heart attacks?” Engineer says, turning back to his dispenser.

Spy shrugs and flips open his disguise kit, drawing out a cigarette. “Heavy and Medic are locking up that last point right now with Soldier—I believe it’s going to be an early day. Besides, I think my time would be better spent watching your back for you, since you cannot seem to do it for yourself.”

“Well, that’s mighty noble of you,” says Engineer, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You should appreciate it more, mon cher—chivalry’s in short supply these days,” Spy responds with a smirk.

“You know, I would remind you that you seem to be mistakin’ me for a lady, but somehow, I doubt it would make much of a difference,” Engineer sighs.

Spy gestures with his cigarette. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

Engineer takes a breath to make a smart-ass remark right back at him, but it’s cut short as his eyes widen and he grabs his shotgun from where it’s propped up beside his dispenser, firing off a volley of shots towards Spy.

Spy flinches, fumbling his cigarette, but he doesn’t turn around as the RED Spy collapses behind him, his knife dropping into the dust.

Engineer ejects the spent cartridge from his shotgun pointedly.

“Well, merci,” says Spy, after a pause, drawing another cigarette out of his disguise kit and lighting it before offering the case towards Engineer.

Engineer can’t resist smirking at him as he plucks a cigarette out and leans towards Spy, who lights it with a flick of his lighter.

For one disorienting moment, he can’t tell if the warmth he feels is Spy’s fingers, close to his, or the flame.

Engineer’s not much of a smoker, but he finds himself sharing a cigarette with Spy again, late one night. Their fingers overlap when he carefully hands off the cigarette and waits for that moment when he knows that Spy’s fingers are settled on it before letting go.




He seems to find Spy basking in the glow of his dispenser far more often than strictly necessary, these days. Engineer can’t find it in himself to complain, through. Company’s company, and Spy is good conversation, to boot. Engineer crosses his arms over his dispenser, idly running his hand over its surface.

This time, when he hears a whispered “Bonjour, Engineer” at his nape, he almost doesn’t jump. Almost. “Spy, one of these days, I’m gonna…”

“Bash my head in with that wrench of yours?” Spy finishes for him with a chuckle. “Unlikely, I’m afraid.” Spy crosses one foot over the other to lean on the dispenser—and falls straight through, of course.

He’s rather proud of himself for not laughing at the disgruntled look on Spy’s face. “You all right down there, partner?” he says, instead, offering him a hand up—and then pulling his hand back when he realizes that it probably wasn’t going to be much help.

“Yes, yes, merci,” Spy says with a scowl, standing up and brushing dust off his suit.

Engineer can’t help but grin a bit at Spy, ruffled and indignant as a wet cat. “Your tie’s askew,” he says. “Not very dashing, that.”

Spy fixes his tie in a brisk, practised motion. “Well, do I pass muster, now? After all, I have an image to keep up, unlike the rest of you philistines.”

“Better. Wait, you’ve got something—“ Engineer gestures to his own cheek, and Spy mirrors him, passing a thumb over his cheekbone. “No, no, other side, and up a bit.” Engineer’s got his bare hand inches away from Spy’s face before he realises what he’s doing and aborts his attempt to wipe off the smudge of dust. Instead, he points, his finger hovering above Spy’s mask, and Spy swipes the dust off with the tip of his finger.

“Well, merci,” Spy says, after an awkward pause. “I’d best go and—“ he gestures vaguely towards the sound of gunfire, and disappears. Engineer follows the soft, rolling sound of his feet over gravel until it fades away, too.

He’s a little distracted for the rest of the afternoon, preoccupied by rubbing the fingers of his bare hand together and wondering what he would have felt.




It probably wasn’t the best idea to indulge in a few cases of beer up on the roof when they can’t even catch each other before they stumble over the edge, but it’s such a nice night out that they simply couldn’t resist.

They’re all a little tipsy. Engineer can’t deny that. He catches himself on his hand as he slumps sideways, somehow expecting to rest his head on Demo’s shoulder and instead falling right through. Demoman laughs and reaches out to try and right him, only laughing more when his hands pass through Engineer’s arm.

Eventually, everyone trickles back downstairs, Heavy hovering a little at Medic’s shoulder when Medic weaves a little. (Medic attempts to bat his hands away with an “Honestly, Heavy, there is no need for this,” but it comes out a little less sharply than his usual battlefield instructions.) When even Sniper yawns and heads back downstairs with a wave, it’s just him and Spy lying on the roof. It’s dark out, but he can see the glowing cherry on the end of Spy’s cigarette, casting a warm glow on his face when he takes a drag.

Spy has his jacket off and his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow, and Engineer can feel the heat coming off of Spy’s skin when he lies beside him, their arms close. It’s enough to make him want to reach out those few inches more, but he doesn’t want to disturb the glow of contentment curling in his belly, something to do with the pleasant haze of alcohol, the still night, and the warm, solid body beside his.

When Spy turns his head towards him, Engineer instinctively tilts his head sideways and leans in, expecting their noses to bump up against each other, the roughness of chapped lips—the little things in kisses that ground them to reality. But there’s nothing, not even the touch of skin or the fabric of Spy’s balaclava. A moment later, Spy pulls back with a laugh. “Well, that simply won’t work, will it,” he says, and Engineer can’t help but chuckle, too, because he’s never had to worry about his partners becoming immaterial before, and it’s just the darndest thing.

Spy shifts closer to him. “I—Stay there,” he says, a strange hesitation in his voice. “Just stay still. You can manage that, oui?”

It’s the strangest kiss he’s ever had, with none of the hot slickness of tongue or the dry softness of a simple press of lips—just their mouths, so, so close, breathing each other’s air. He can feel the barest bit of heat when Spy brushes his cheek by his—still not touching, just there. At the angle of his jaw, there’s a hint of his fancy French cologne, a subtle, dark scent in the hollow under the edge of bone.

Engineer brings his hand up to cup Spy’s face, almost touching, but not quite, his thumb stroking down the line of his cheekbone. Carefully, like he’s placing a delicate connection in a ‘porter. He should be clumsier, alcohol slurring his movements, but something about the near-touch of Spy’s lips had brought the world into sharp focus, the soft blur of drunkenness gone and replaced with an electric awareness. It should feel absolutely ridiculous—two grown men not-quite-touching in utter silence—but somehow, it’s gripping, so close and yet so far from touch.

When he pulls back a bit, he can see Spy’s eyes fall closed. Spy seems to tilt his head into Engineer’s hand ever so slightly before freezing still, a bare breath away from the pads of Engineer’s fingers.

Engineer can feel his breathing quicken when Spy slowly places his hand over his and turns his mouth into the hollow of Engineer’s palm. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Spy’s mouth, and god, he just wants to grab at Spy’s neatly-pressed collar and muss him up, to fit his hands around the curve of Spy’s skull and bring him that last inch closer.

Spy drags his mouth back to meet Engineer’s, hovering, and if Engineer closes his eyes, he can almost feel something.

-------------------------

Spy avoids him for days after that, enough to make him believe that he’d somehow imagined it. Sometimes, he can see a shimmer at the edge of his vision when he’s building a sentry, and his breath catches in his throat. There’s a part of him that wonders when he had gotten so attuned to that slight sheen of color hanging in the air. The sound of decloaking speeds his pulse every time now, and he knows it should be mostly in readiness for RED’s Spy. But he can’t deny that there’s a part of him that hopes that he’ll turn around to see a familiar blue suit and that damn smirk, that deliberate cant to his hips.

Pyro makes a curious noise when he waves a hand through Engineer’s shoulder, making his usual spychecking rounds. Engineer gives him a smile and a thumbs-up, waving off his concern.

When Engineer thinks of Spy and feels the sudden, sharp need to touch, he can almost fool himself into thinking that it’s a matter of missing skin contact when he’s out in the field with team. Basic human needs, that’s all.

If he’s honest with himself, there’s simply more to it than that—he wants to grasp Spy and wrench him out of insubstantiality, to jostle him out of his faint aloofness and secure him to reality by his bare hands. It’s like the best kind of difficult math, an infuriating and enticing puzzle, the kind where Engineer won’t be satisfied until it comes unravelled into the neat lines of a blueprint.

He’s never wanted to touch something so much.




When Spy finally comes to him, it’s with that familiar gust of breath at the back of his neck. “Engineer.”

He twists around, the movement familiar, especially with the weight of his wrench in his hand. Spy doesn’t flinch, though—just backs up slightly, his back to the barn wall, and that small gesture of trust makes Engineer drop his wrench, hands thumping on wood as he pins Spy to the wall behind him, breathing hard.

There’s just his arms bracketing Spy’s body against the wall. Spy could escape at any time—slip through his arm and disappear into the hot desert air with only the barest shimmer—but instead, he leans against the wall and gives Engineer a long, considering look. He’s letting himself be caught, and that realization makes Engineer’s mouth go dry.

Spy looks entirely unconcerned, taking a drag of his cigarette and holding in the smoke for a moment before turning his head to the side and blowing it out. “Well then, what were you planning to do now?”

Engineer can feel his face flushing, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to articulate anything halfway intelligent—what had he planned to do, anyways? “I. Ah.”

Raising an eyebrow, Spy leans in to brush his mouth close to his ear. “Hm. I would recommend that you figure that out, mon cher. By this evening, preferably.”

It’s only when Engineer pulls his arm back that Spy steps away, brushing by him.




That evening, he sits down with a set of blueprints for a new sentry, trying to distract himself, but he can’t seem to concentrate properly, fumbling elementary calculations, his writing even more scrawled than usual.

There’s a smart rap on his bedroom door, and when he opens it, Spy is leaning on the doorjamb, one of his hands slipped into his pocket. “May I come in?”

Engineer grins at him, nervousness and something hot and pressing twining in his belly. “Make yourself at home.”

Spy is immaculately dressed, as usual—crisp white cuffs peeking out from his jacket sleeves, collar pressed, and his tie knotted into a neat Windsor.

“Now, tell me what you’d like off.”

Engineer likes to think of himself as a fairly eloquent man, but Spy keeps on catching him without words. He seats himself on the edge of his bed, trying to get his bearings. “Wanna run that past me again?”

Spy shrugs. “I thought I’d been rather straightforward, but I might have been mistaken. Should I rephrase it?” Spy looks straight into his eyes. “Tell me what items of clothing I am currently wearing that you would like to see removed.”

“Shucks—well, you know.” Engineer makes a vague gesture towards Spy’s chest.

Spy runs a hand down the pressed line of his jacket. “You really need to be more specific,” he says with a grin. He toys with the edge of his cuff, a movement that would have looked nervous on anyone else, but on him only succeeds in coming off as an indication that he’s willing to wait, thank you. Engineer licks his lips nervously and shifts in his seat.

“Your suit jacket, if y’ please,” he says, at last.

“Reasonable enough,” Spy says with a smirk, moving to unbutton the jacket and draping it over Engineer’s worktable. “What next?”

“Cufflinks?” Engineer gestures at his cuffs, and Spy twists the cufflinks off in a deft movement, dropping the sleek silver affairs onto the table with a click. Without them, Spy’s sleeves droop open at his wrists, a sliver of skin framed by the edge of his gloves.

“Your belt, now,” he says, eyes drawn to that patch of bare skin. The belt joins the cufflinks, coiled into a neat curl. “Tie?”

“You’re being dreadfully methodical about this, mon cher,” Spy says as he tilts his chin up to loosen the knot.

“’Fraid methodical’s what you’re going to get with an engineer,” Engineer responds.

Spy tilts his head, as if considering this. “Fair enough, I suppose,” he says with a dramatic sigh, draping his tie over Engineer’s work chair. “Mon dieu, what was I thinking. I’ll be asleep before we get anywhere below the belt area.”

“Shut up, Spy, and take off that fancy waistcoat,” Engineer says, and he can’t quite keep that grin back, especially when the corner of Spy’s mouth quirks in response.

It’s slow and unhurried—waistcoat, dress shirt—each piece of clothing coming off with the slither of fine fabric. Spy stands deliberately just out of Engineer’s reach—shoes, socks—but close enough that Engineer thinks that if he leaned forward and reached out, he could run a hand over the flexing muscle of Spy’s belly when he stretches up to take off his undershirt. A thrill of electricity courses up Engineer’s spine with each word that passes his lips, Spy playing along with each of his suggestions with his usual aplomb, only occasionally commenting on the way that Engineer’s face seems to be attempting to match RED’s uniforms.

When Spy steps out of his pants, he doesn’t even bother to drape them over a piece of furniture, his movements no longer as fluid and controlled as they had been. Engineer can see Spy’s chest rising and falling, his mouth slightly open, and his mouth goes dry at the realization that Spy is getting off on this, on Engineer’s eyes and Engineer’s voice.

Save for the balaclava, the gloves are the last thing to go, dropping to the floor with a soft slap.

Spy projects an easy confidence even when standing naked before Engineer. There’s a long, pale scar that clings to the side of his ribcage, and a smaller, but more vicious-looking one above his hipbone, others scattered along his side. The distinctive edge of a burn scar licks around his shoulder, disappearing into the line of his back, and Engineer just wants to trace its line with his mouth and feel smooth skin and tough, raised patches alike against his lips.

He’s a bit at a loss, to be honest. There’s no instinct to ride, fuelled by touch and heat, only careful, deliberate words, but he falls back on the simple desire to get Spy closer to him. “Hey, you’d best get into bed, at least. Can’t be comfortable standin’ on a cold floor in bare feet.”

Spy chuckles. “So solicitous, mon cher.” Spy kneels over his lap, and Engineer’s all of a sudden conscious of the way that Spy is very, very naked, while he’s goggles and a hardhat away from his full gear.

“Would you like me to touch myself? My neck, my chest? My legs? My cock?” Spy’s voice is a low murmur in his ear, the implication clear: where do you want to touch me? Where would you touch me, if you could?

The room’s dark, and he’s grateful for that, because he can feel his face blushing hotly. He usually wouldn’t do anything like this—he’s always been pretty quiet during sex, breath and moans enough for him. He leans his head in, his voice low by Spy’s ear. “Run your hand down your chest—slowly now, ain’t no rush.”

He’s close enough to hear Spy inhale sharply, though nothing shows on his face. “You are sadly lacking in imagination, Engineer,” he says, his voice smooth and teasing as usual. But, he’s also dragging his hand down his chest, stopping only when Engineer says “Stop,” as Spy’s hand reaches his hipbone.

“Don’t you go no lower for now,” Engineer says. His voice is hoarse, and he can’t seem to get it to work quite right.

Spy raises an eyebrow at him, but stills, his hand making small circles in the hollow of his hipbone. He wiggles a little, smirking at Engineer and bringing his other hand up to circle around his nipple. “Higher is fair game, non?” he says, looking Engineer right in the eye. Being deliberately provocative.

Engineer manages to croak out “Yeah, that’s all right,” and Spy smooths his hand up the supple curve of his neck as he tilts his head back, his back arching.

Engineer can feel his breath catch when Spy’s fingers slip into his own mouth, moaning theatrically around them, his eyes slipping shut. Spy’s fingers leave a glistening trail down his throat when he trails them down again to his chest.

He undoes the buckles on his overalls and tugs off his glove, trying to distract his hands to keep them from reaching out to touch Spy. He automatically reaches down just to cup himself, but Spy’s eyes snap open. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. After all, it’s only fair, yes?” he says with a playful edge to his voice.

Engineer groans, but he complies, fisting his hand in the bedsheets. Spy hums approvingly. “Very good. Go on, now, tell me what you would do.” He hears the sheets rustle against each other, and he can feel Spy at his shoulder, his breath harsh against his ear. “Let me give you an example, yes?”

Engineer swallows and nods.

“I would kiss your neck here—“ The barest breath over the vein on the side of his neck. “—and here—“ The warmth of fingers at the back of his neck, along the edge of his hair line. “—and then lower.” The ghost of a finger tracing down his back, along his spine.

It’s all so very, very careful, their hands precise and slow to try and keep them from sinking through each other’s skin. And Engineer doesn’t want careful—he wants to push Spy against the wall and pull that ever-present smirk off his face; he wants to kiss him, sloppy and wet, to press bruises into his skin, to bite down on the muscle of his shoulder. Most of all, he just wants to feel his skin, the muscles shifting underneath, the strong lines of his bones.

He shivers, sharp and sudden. “That’s all very nice, yeah, but I think I’d rather focus on tellin’ ya what I’d like to see now, if you don’t mind.”

Spy raises his eyebrows, looking slightly miffed. “Well then, be my guest. Not much of a romantic, are you, mon cher?”

“Think I’d call it practical, really. Slick your fingers again, Spy,” he says hoarsely. Spy raises an eyebrow at him again and complies, slipping his fingers into his mouth. “Think you know what I’m going to ask, right.”

“Perhaps,” Spy says, bracing himself with a hand against the wall. “But I would like to hear you say it nonetheless.”

Engineer smirks at him and leans forward just the slightest bit more, so he knows Spy can feel his breath over his ear. “Would you kindly finger yourself for me, Spy?” he says, his heart beating a tattoo in his chest. “Just start with one, slow ‘n careful, but two or three would be awful nice, eventually.”

He’s close enough to hear the gasp that Spy lets slip. For a moment, Spy leans in towards him, reaching for a kiss, before he stops and simply looks at Engineer, panting a bit. “I—I believe I could indulge you in that regard, monsieur.”

“That’s awfully kind of ya,” Engineer says, smiling.

He can see the tendons shift in Spy’s arm as he works a finger into himself, the rise of his chest when his breath hitches. When Spy starts to move, Engineer has to twist his hands in the bed sheets, because all he wants is to grip Spy’s hips, to stroke a hand down his arched back and to feel Spy’s body stretched around his own fingers.

Spy’s thighs tremble slightly where they straddle Engineer’s lap when Engineer asks in a hushed voice if he’d be ready for a second finger.

“Would d’ya care to lie down, Spy? More comfortable for you, I’d imagine,” Engineer asks, soft against his ear. There’s something about falling back on courtesy—a way of expressing something that would usually come through soft touches and kisses or a steadying hand.

Spy nods, withdrawing for enough time to drape himself down on the bed, smiling when Engineer slides down next to him and leans in for another near-kiss, breath brushing over each others’ lips. “You know, if you wanted a better view, you could have just said so, Engineer,” Spy says.

“Nah, ‘s not that,” he says, and pauses to inhale sharply when he sees Spy slip two fingers back into himself and press a moan into the bed sheets. “Well, not all that.”

Spy lets out a breathless laugh at that, moving back onto his own fingers in a steady rhythm, his body taut with want.

“You look real nice like this, ya know,” Engineer says, all breath, his hands clenching in the sheets to keep himself from touching himself, from touching Spy. “Stroke yourself—nice and slow.”

“I admit I didn’t quite expect this much from you, Engineer,” Spy says with a gasp. He’s smirking at Engineer—but that smirk has soft edges and half-lidded eyes, and that, more than anything, makes Engineer swallow hard.

Even with the expanse of skin close to his, Engineer can’t help but notice the dark smudges of Spy’s lashes when his eyes droop shut as he strokes himself again at Engineer’s word. It makes him want to pass a thumb over the thin skin under his closed eyes; there’s the barest hint of darker circles there, familiar reminders of late nights over books and blueprints. It’s beautifully real, and Engineer can’t help but smile.

“I—I think you should touch yourself now, mon cher,” Spy says with a heated, unfocused glance down his body. Engineer’s tempted to hold out for a “please,” but he’s honestly too far gone for that. There’s Spy writhing inches away from his hands, all hot skin and breath, anchored to reality by Engineer’s words, and it’s at once too much and not enough.

When he finally, finally wraps a hand around his cock, his eyes drifting shut, Engineer knows that his fingers are not long enough, that the calluses on his palm should be softened by leather gloves, that the grip is all wrong, but Engineer leaves his eyes closed for a bit longer, holding on to the image of Spy touching him.

“Look at me, Engineer,” Spy says.

His voice is low and wrecked, but still infuriatingly confident. Engineer moans and cracks his eyes open, in time to see Spy lick a slick line up his palm before trailing that hand down his chest and wrapping it around his cock with a long, slow stroke, just the way that Engineer had requested before.

Engineer swallows. “Faster.”

Spy groans and complies, his hand working smoothly on his cock as Engineer stares, completely unable to tear his eyes away. He crawls closer to Spy, taking a deep breath and leaning over him, whispering into his ear—nonsense, mostly, insults and endearments all mixed up and pouring out his lips, with the low, repeating mantra of “god, god, I wanna touch you so bad,” and somewhere in there, the barest breath saying, “go ‘head and come for me, darlin’, come on, please.”

Spy turns his head with a gasp, pressing his wrist to his open mouth, and does. And that’s all it takes.




Afterwards, they lie beside each other under the covers, close enough to feel the warmth coming off of each others’ skin.

Engineer reaches out across the mattress, an axis to the curving asymptote of Spy’s spine. “Hey,” he says, his voice soft.

Spy turns towards him, blowing out a puff of smoke and stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray on the bed table. For once, he doesn’t say a word. He stretches out an arm to meet Engineer’s own, and their hands fall into other, fingers curling around their palms.


Eventually, Engineer finds himself back on the train, faded red and blue buildings receding in the distance. The same beat-up little suitcase rests at his feet, the clasp now fixed.

There’s the touch of two fingers to his wrist, tentative and light, before it withdraws. He takes a breath and tries not to shiver as he feels Spy sit down beside him, his leg brushing against his own.

“I never did shake your hand properly, did I, mon cher?” Spy says after a few moments.

And Engineer reaches out and shakes his hand, simple as that.

Spy’s got a good handshake, solid and confident. His hand is gloveless, and Engineer can feel the bumps of his knuckles, the long bones of his fingers, the tips of his neatly-trimmed nails, the slightest bit of sweat in the hollow of his palm, the pad of his thumb stroking over the back of his hand. They both hold on to the handshake a little longer than usual, skin against skin, the warm weight of their hands resting on Engineer’s knee.

When Spy moves to let go, Engineer pulls him forward and kisses him silly. It’s warm, wondrous, and so lovely—and he can feel Spy smiling against his lips.


-------------------------------

They’re so used to having to take things slowly and deliberately.

It feels like such a luxury to wrench a surprised gasp from Spy when Engineer pins him to the wall, the door falling shut behind them. Engineer can’t help but kiss him over and over, pressed against him from their lips to their legs. Later—later they’ll take the time to touch everywhere—he’s always been good at being thorough, after all—but now, all he wants to do is push against Spy and get Spy’s skin under his hands.

Neither of them says a word. It feels bizarrely foreign, and Engineer almost instinctively slips into voicing what he wants to do, as usual. They’re used to reading each other’s gasps and moans, but it’s novel to try and interpret Spy’s shivers against his hands, the tension in his muscles and the way he pushes into Engineer’s touch, rather than his hoarse words. Engineer’s words crest against Spy’s lips—please, yes, I want—but then recede, his mouth caught up with kissing Spy breathless.

At points, it’s awkward, their hands colliding when they pull at each other’s clothes, their teeth clacking together when they kiss, but it just makes Engineer laugh in delight, reveling in the physicality of it all. They stumble their way over to the bed, tripping on pants and discarded shirts, Engineer supporting Spy when he threatens to overbalance.

He’s seen Spy bring himself off, hands drifting towards the spots that make him shiver: his nipples, his belly. Engineer knows Spy’s lean frame and broad shoulders, but it’s exhilarating to match the sight to touch—he closes his eyes, mapping out the swoop of his back muscles, the sine wave of his vertebrae, the ragged scar following the curve of his ribs, the dip at the base of his spine. There’s an exploratory thrill in finding the back of Spy’s knee with his lips, or to sink his teeth lightly at the back of Spy’s neck and feel him shudder and buck. It’s all familiar, and yet so new.

There’s so much Engineer wants to do: things he’s whispered into Spy’s ear to see him breathless and coming in his own hand, things that Spy has suggested in a low voice with his mouth breathing a hot trail over Engineer’s skin, intimate and dirty. In the end, though, he can’t seem to get enough of lying tangled with Spy, grinding against each other, their hands everywhere. It’s almost laughably basic, but the feel of Spy’s skin against his own seems to derail his thoughts, leaving him gasping and wanting.

When they’re both completely exhausted, Spy falls asleep, pressed close against Engineer. Engineer keeps himself awake long enough to gather Spy into his arms as best he can, before drifting off, feeling completely overwhelmed and utterly content.




The most amazing things, though, are the little unexpected touches: to be able to take Spy out to lunch and feel their arms press against each other as Spy leans over to recommend something fancy and French off the menu. He offhandedly bumps his foot against Spy’s as he reaches for the pepper—he can see Spy open his mouth, no doubt to chide him about adding pepper to a meal whose spices were balanced by the chef, only to close his mouth and nudge Engineer’s foot back. It’s completely ridiculous, but he can’t help but shiver at the smallest things. In the middle of a bustling restaurant, he might not be able to kiss Spy the way he wants to while they linger over coffee, but he can’t resist placing a hand in the small of Spy’s back as Engineer holds the door open for him. When they walk together, Spy keeps on touching his arm to emphasize a point he’s making, resting a hand on his shoulder—little incredulous touches, as if he can’t quite believe this is real.




Engineer likes the evenings when they sit together, Spy leaning against him and flipping through a cheap paperback—an Agatha Christie, from what Engineer can glimpse of the battered cover. Engineer’s taking the chance to catch up on a backlog of journals, only slightly distracted by the warm line of Spy’s side against his own. It’s awful nice to be able to read some of the most up-to-date stuff; by the time their mail gets to base, journals are usually a touch out of date, and it’s darned hard to get his hands on some of the more recent Soviet research.

Spy reaches over and pats his leg when Engineer makes outraged noises at some of the utter nonsense that manages to get published, scribbling notes in the margins—for Pete’s sake, were some of these articles even peer-read? Thankfully, there are a few redeeming articles to be picked out, and he soon finds himself flipping between the journals and jotting down equations on hotel stationery, considering a way to make his teleport even more efficient.

“Engineer, I must insist that you stop making vaguely pornographic noises while reading about quantum thermodynamics, or whatever it is this time,” Spy says, leaning into Engineer’s space and plucking his reading glasses off. “It’s a sad, sad day when I feel jealous of—“ He glances at the author of the article. “—Dr. C. H. Bennett, egghead extraordinaire, you know.”

“’S pretty exciting stuff. I can see why you’d be a mite worried,” Engineer grins up at Spy.

“Really. Should I just leave you and Docteur Bennett alone in peace, then? I’ll just go and find myself a pretty young thing at the bar,” Spy says, moving away from him with a smirk.

“Well, I’ve heard that Dr. Bennett is willing to share,” Engineer says, wrapping a hand around Spy’s tie and tugging lightly to bring him close again.

“Hm. And what if I’m not willing to share?” Spy plants a hand on his chest, his fingers five points of warm pressure.

“I guess we have a heck of a dilemma, then. On one hand, Dr. Bennett’s really quite the smart cookie. Won a couple awards and everything. And you’re a bit of a vain bastard with an ego only slightly smaller than Scout’s, for starters,” Engineer says, reaching to wrap his arm around Spy’s back, hovering over it by instinct for a few moments before Spy nudges back into his hand with a rueful look. “On the other hand, I don’t know how good Dr. Bennett is at kissin’.”

And that feels familiar—the playful back-and-forth standing in for touches. Instead of answering, though, Spy leans in and kisses him, long and lingering.

“So, how do I compare to the good doctor?”

Engineer grins and strokes his thumb along Spy’s cheekbone. “Ahh, I reckon you’ll do,” he murmurs against Spy’s lips.




He knows Spy’s an early riser, being a light sleeper and all, but it’s awful nice to wake with Spy pressed against his back and kissing his neck. Slowly, he registers Spy’s hand stroking down his chest and curling lazily around his cock.

“Geez, ain’t you tired at all? I could sleep for days,” he murmurs, not opening his eyes yet, revelling in Spy’s slow, sleep-muffled touches.

“Shh, cher, don’t ruin my fun,” Spy whispers, his voice still rough with sleep. His accent’s thicker in the mornings, and Engineer can’t help but like it. “You don’t even need to move, if you don’t want to.”

Engineer pushes back into his touch, tilting his head back to catch Spy’s lips. “’s that so. Well, I guess that’s all right, then.”

“You’re terribly lethargic in the mornings, you know. A bit unbefitting a hardened mercenary.”

“Didn’t remember anything against sleeping in when I signed the contract,” Engineer says, trailing off into a soft groan when Spy strokes his palm over his cock, slipping his other arm around his chest.

“Hmm. Might have been in one of those ridiculous subsections, you never know. Somewhere in there with having a great deal of sex with very handsome Spies. Fraternization or somesuch,” Spy murmurs with a chuckle that Engineer feels against his back.

“Well, we’re a bit late for that, then. An’ don’t laugh at your own jokes, it’s unbecoming.” Engineer twines his hand with Spy’s, pressing their joined hands against his chest.

“I’m terribly witty and you know it. It’s part and parcel of the job description, I’m afraid.”

“Good lord, I hope they’re doing a performance review soon, then. Your one-liners are downright terrible, Spy.”

“You wound me, Engineer.”

Spy kisses him slow, his tongue pushing languidly into Engineer’s mouth. His hands smooth down Engineer’s thighs, and it’s all too slow and lazy to be full-blown sex, but it’s awful nice to just lay there and be touched, the soft morning light casting a golden glow on the sheets and on Spy’s hands.

“We’re going back to base soon, you know,” Spy murmurs against his neck.

Engineer feels a little thrown by the change in subject, his mind still fogged with warmth and sleepiness. “Hm—where ‘r they sending us now? Viaduct?”

He feels Spy’s body tense minutely against his back. “I believe so.” Spy curls impossibly closer and strokes his hands down Engineer’s chest, warm and lingering. Oh.

Engineer twists around in Spy’s arms, cups his jaw, and leans in. His lips stop a bare breath away from Spy’s own, the motion familiar from stolen almost-kisses on the battlefield. “This—this is us, too, you know,” he murmurs.

“Mm.” Spy doesn’t say anything, but his hands hover at the back of Engineer’s neck and trace lightly down his spine, and Engineer feels his muscles relax.

Spy’s hands dip lower and squeeze playfully. “So, I have some ideas to wake you up properly, mon cher.”

“Get me a cup of coffee, and we’ll talk.”



It does feel good to be coming back. Engineer’s looking forward to making those adjustments to his teleporters, especially since Spy suggested a way to tuck the wiring in and make them harder to sap. Scout strides onto the train burdened with an overabundance of baked goods from his mother. (He makes the mistake of asking Spy what he’d done over vacation, making a strangled noise when Spy smirks and says “Well, Engineer, for a start.”) Soldier reports that he did not accomplish his objective of liberating Scout’s mother from the clutches of RED Spy, but he had gained additional intelligence regarding Scout’s mother’s flower preferences, and as such, did not consider this campaign a complete loss. Demoman claps a hand on Engineer’s shoulder and pulls out polaroids from his wine tour of southern France. Judging from the increasingly blurry, tilted shots of Medic sipping dubiously from a glass and Heavy daintily gripping the stem of his wine glass between two massive fingers, they hadn’t gone for the usual swill-and-spit method. Pyro spends a good portion of the trip regaling him with a story that, as far as Engineer can figure out, involved Sniper’s van, Las Vegas, and a motorcycle race.

Engineer keeps a hand on Spy’s arm on the last leg of the train trip. As the snow-capped rooftops come into view, Engineer feels the weave of Spy’s suit fade under his fingers, his hand gradually slipping through. Spy places his hand over his, and even though he can’t feel the soft leather of Spy’s gloves anymore, Engineer’s hand still feels warm.

39 .

Does anyone have "Money shot" by "I eat paste"? It was mostly centered around some weird morale-building movie starring Medic and Heavy, where Engineer and Medic find each other vaguely attractive but Medic was starting to notice the Heavy as a person rather than a meatshield...I'd really like to see that one started up again.

40 .

Can anyone find a old kink-meme request? It was written by an anonymous, and was an AU with Scout as a high school kid and raep van Sniper

Normally don't go in for that thing but it was well enough done that I'd like to see it back.

41 .

>>40

"Jesus, Ma…" Rick, (known mostly as 'Scout' to his friends) mumbled under his breath. "This really sucks. Gary always wants to drive but when it's his own brother he's gotta go an' be a giant fucker."

He slammed his rusting locker shut and glanced up and down the hall with trepidation. Not that he was scared or anything but man, he just hoped the upperclassmen weren't doing dope outside the school again.

This area of Boston was not exactly ideal, but Scout's family wasn't wealthy and his Ma had done her best to ensure all her children had an education. Scout didn't blame her for that. What he did blame her for right now was this weird bout of bizarre excuses that were makin' him take the long walk home through all sorts of weird places. At least he always knew he could run fast if there was too much of a problem.

No sooner had he had this thought then there was a shout behind him. "Well if it ain't Scoot!"

The six (SIX) teenagers snickered and advanced on him. They might have been bullies looking for a bit of fun harassing an underclassman, but Scout spotted a bowie knife glittering in one boy's hand.

He could hear their laughter as he immediately took off running.

"Aincha gonna stay and fight tough guy? Thought ya were supposed t'be so tough Scooty!"

Scout ran for a few blocks and ducked behind a building. They were just not letting up and it was still way too far from home. Maybe he could find a place to hide. That camper van there looked pretty junky and abandoned: dings in its sides, drawn curtains.

He tried the door and scrambled backwards when it was opened for him.
"Well whot's this then?" the man with giant sideburns and a hairy chest leered down at Scout. He backed up.

"Shit man I totally..."

"You want to come in mate?" The smile seemed inviting but was maybe a little unnerving. "That gang there givin' you trouble. We can't have such a cute little bloke getting hurt. You must have a mum somewhere. I'll give ya a ride."

Normally Scout would have protested being called cute, but this guy was way older than him. Yeah. Just some geezer thing and totally better than the gang. "Yeah, thanks man."

The inside of the van seemed merely functional, but the bed seemed to be modified to be quite a bit bigger than the average bed one would find in a camper. Scout was forced to sit on it like a couch so he could sit down for the ride. His rescuer clambered into the front seat.

"Where am I taking you?" The engine gave a great cough and spluttered to life. Well shit, the thing actually worked.

"Uh, Fleet Street." It was about a half block away from his house. Scout did know better than to tell a perfect stranger his proper address. "So you uh…English or something?"

"Australian."

"Oh."

"What grade are you in?"

"Tenth."

"Mmm, that is a good grade. I loikes that one."

"What'd you say?"

"Good grade to be in, mate."

"Ohhhkay."

The walls were decorated with some weird, almost tribal looking stuff, and a large rifle sat in the corner. Scout's eyes zeroed in.

"Cool gun man! What d'you do with it?"

Sniper grinned to himself. "I'm a hunter. A sniper."

Okay, that was kinda neat. "What sorts of thing do you go for?" He could see the sign for Fleet Street up in the distance. Just when the conversation was getting cool. Guns were freakin' cool.

"Generally faster creatures, give myself a challenge."

"So like deer and stuff?"

"You could say that, mate." He pulled up the van and climbed quickly back into the back seat. "The whole idea is to have it so that they don't know what's coming before it's too late." There was the distinct click of a van door locking.

Sniper clambered over to the bed, pushing Scout down onto it with that horrible leer back in place.

"Oh god, you're going to kill me!" Scout screamed, only to have his mouth muffled.

"Nothin' loike that mate. Sometimes I just have a bit of fun with what I catch. Release 'em back into the wild, all gentle like."

This baffled Scout until he felt the press of something hard against his knee.

"Mmmfph Muuuffph."

"Now you're a kicker aren't yeh, an ouch, apparently a bit of a biter, so we'll just take care of that won't we." Sniper flipped Scout onto his back with surprising strength.

His face now muffled by the pillow and his arms and legs pinned by surprisingly strong thighs, Scout swore he was not going to cry and get out of this crazy rape fag's grasp. There was a slight scuffling sound above him and Scout's trousers were yanked down. He gasped hard as a slimy…oh shit that was the guy's finger oh shit oh shit oh shit ew, what was the slime?

"Ow. Whry drr yrr wrrna stirrk anythrring in thrr yrr crazy fag, poop crrms outta thrr!'

Above him, Sniper just put a chilling hand on his back, tracing little patterns. "I promised I'd be gentle with you mate."

Scout turned his head to the side. "That is not fuckin' gentle…what'd you do, stick another one in? OW cockfag, OW!" He prepared himself to scream his head off. Anything to get the attention of anyone, and it came out as a moan as one of those fingers touched /something/ inside him that suddenly made spots dance in front of his vision and his embarrassment mount as he couldn't help himself from starting to get aroused.

Sniper grinned and adjusted his fingers. "You loike that don't you. They all do in the end."

His cock now straining and pressed against the bed combined with all the stretching and the spot inside him being teased mercilessly, Scout broke his second promise to himself and started to cry. Cry and moan at the same time.
"None of that now mate. Hands and knees then." Scout was allowed to push himself up.

There was the tearing of the package of a condom and for just a second Scout almost brought his concentration back. He'd remember finding a used condom once in the room he used to share with his brother Alex and upon finding out what it was and whose it was…yeah that was gross. Think of Alex getting it on with that ugly zitty fatso chick who had been the only one who'd ever want him. He could punch this sonofabitch and get away.

Above him, Sniper unzipped his pants. God this guy had hair everywhere. It was all over his legs and Scout could feel it tickle him…oh god, this was it.

Scout yelled as one powerful thrust let the Australian penetrate him. Oh there hadn't been enough of those fingers had there? Think of um…rainbows. Shit now he was going to associate rainbows with gay fag sex.

What he wasn't expecting was for his cock to be taken up in one powerful hand and given a firm stroke. The painful sensation was lessening in his behind and he concentrated on the warm hand working away at his cock. Turned out the slimy stuff was only Vaseline and not some kind of weird octopus rapist secretion.

Sniper began to thrust, slowly, enjoying the sensation of one of the most perfect virgin asses he'd ever pounded in his life. Below him his little catch was moaning, involuntarily bucking against him both into the cock in his ass and the hand stroking him alternating.

Close, but wanting to prolong the experience as much as possible, Sniper could feel himself getting close, but preoccupied himself with nipping at the back of Scout's neck while he waited for the boy to come.

Shuddering hard, Scout came, but he wasn't allowed to flop bonelessly with shame at what he'd done or how good it had felt. Sniper was still going, pulling out and drawing back in, that chest hair tickling the back of his neck, groaning and finally finally coming. He took a deep breath, wiped the film of sweat off his skin and stood, giving scout's trousers a tug. "There you go mate, we've had our fun, haven't we. And now, you get to go."

The van door unlocked with a click and Scout beat hell out of the van, doing up his pants as he went. He kept running, even though he felt exhausted and didn't stop until he got home. He barely noticed that the weird salesman guy in the pinstripe who kept skulking around their neighbourhood was coming out of his house until he was almost on top of him.

"Careful with ze suit petit. By ze way. Did you enjoy ze time avec mon ami? I am sorry, but I really did need some time to visit with your muzzer. She is a most delightful lady."

Scout had no words.

42 .

I have a few fics that I've saved from the Chan post-crash. Are only the authors allowed to post them, or may I if I make sure people know who wrote them?

43 .

Does anybody have Pet by uh... Magpie? It was the fic with medic/pet!sniper and the spy from the opposing team picking up on it. PLEASE SAY YES.

44 .

I require "Water" by Corvine. Please someone repost it!

45 .

Little Lady I can email you the archive files if you want it, I've been spamming it to my friends since I read it.

46 .

'King of My Hill' will always have a special place in my heart. By the way, shouldn't we just wait for the archives when it gets put up?

47 .

>>45
Your email please?

48 .

It's in the field.

49 .

Anyone got that fic with the Medic teabagging the medigun during sex with a patient? Can't for the life of me remember the name. I think it used to be up on ffnet, but it's not anymore, for some reason.

50 .

Does anybody have the one where Engineer has sex with a certain cartoon character? I think it was called "Fucking Amputees" or something like that.

Also, does anybody have the one where Engineer keeps Soldier down in his basement and feeds him breakfast? It involved Soldier giving Engineer a blowjob. I can't remember what that one was called, but I miss it so.

51 .

>>50

The Engie/Soldier fic is called 'The Palm Of His Hand'
Both of those fics can be found on Fanfiction.net
The other can be found in the cartoon crossover section.

52 .

>>51

Unable to find the cartoon crossover section. Link please?

53 .

>>52

http://m.fanfiction.net/s/6243096/1/

I think this is the fic you're thinking of

54 .

>>52

Sorry, I should have been more detailed in my instructions. Happy reading!

55 .

>>42 post away! I don't care who's got them, so long as you credit the author, or at least mention that you didn't write it if you don't know the author.

Anyone got the one where Scout's having incest fantasies about his mom?

56 .

Is it this one?

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6081413/1/The_Queen_Dowager

57 .

Gotcha covered. Money shot, by i eat paste

The showers shot out hot water that dripped down the Medic's bare skin in small streams. His flesh reddened. Medic pushed the strands of soaked hair from his face. Steam flooded around the man in a thick fog. He took a deep breath gathering the hot air into his lungs, forehead pressed to the cold tile, gloved hands moving slowly down his front. A soft sigh escaped past his moist lips as he pressed closer to the cool wet wall as if it were another body. The feeling of cold and warm simultaneously made his skin uncomfortably more sensitive.

The looming presence of the large man behind him did not go unnoticed. Medic became nervous, glancing over his shoulder. The large Russian smiled, his arousal very obvious as he watched the German's hand move over the red, wet skin.

"Vat are you doing, doktor?..."

The Medic continued to face the wall. He couldn't bring himself to turn to the other man.

"I....I am.....I-"

"STOP THE CAMERA!", the Soldier yelled in frustration as the Sniper kept the film rolling.

Spy flipped lazily through the script, "Cut. You 'ave to say 'cut'."

"Look guys my arms are really fuckin' tired," The Scout's arms came down quickly, the make shift boom mic the Engineer had rigged up was a mass of wire and metal. It took a bit of effort on the Scout's part to hold it up especially in their shower scene.

"Why do we even have 'em talking! Let's just get to tha fuckin' already!" Scout whined.

Spy glared, annoyed, "Eet needs a story otherwise it won't make sense...Molly."

Scout glared angrily, murmuring a "fuck you man...", readying to take a swing with the long pole of the boom mic.

"SENSE!? None of zis makes sense!!" Medic threw his hands up in frustration as the Heavy stood quite embarrassed of himself, "Vy vould I vant to," he pulled the papers from the Spy's hands and read off a few stage directions, "'Press myself against ze cold tile vall' or," he flipped to the next page, still naked and dripping wet,"'Pleasure myself vith my gloved hands?!' VY AM I VEARING GLOVES IN ZE SHOWER!?"

The Engineer fiddled with the camera wires, "Well...some people like that kinda stuff."

Sniper idly watched the angry German, sneering, "'s colled a kink."

"I KNOW VAT IT IZ!" Medic yelled, grabbing the clean, dry towel from Heavy's outstretched hand. The large man quickly recoiled his arm. Medic dried himself and threw it to the ground mumbling in German to himself.

"Eet eez in ze script, mon ami."

"I VANT NOZING MORE TO DO VITH ZEES...ZEES...ATROCITY!"

"DOCTOR!" Soldier stood up quickly from the stool he was perched on, "WE ALL agreed this was NECESSARY! FOR THE TEAM! FOR MORALE!"

"For our dicks." the Demo-man chimed in, bottle in hand, "'ere ya go! This'll clear up those pesky inhibitions mate!"

"YOU CANNOT GET ME DRUNK AND EXPECT ME TO FORNICATE ON CAMERA!"

Spy murmured, "'e's right. Too drunk and 'e won't be able to get a proper erection," he gestured to the Medic's cock as if it were a stage prop.

Having the three men stare at his limp dick with pensive looks upon their faces was enough to turn the Medic's discomfort into seething anger.

"So how do we get him to fuck?" Soldier mumbled to the Demo-man who shrugged.

"YOU DO NOT GENTLEMEN, I QVIT!"

Medic did not want the Heavy to follow him as he angrily left the showering area, but like a puppy, the man followed. Just because they were "drafted" to make a porn video for the team together didn't mean they had to develop a relationship outside of their professional one.

Three days ago. Fuck, he wished he could take back that day...

"You do not have to follow me, Herr." the doctor growled at Heavy as he entered his room. The doctor gripped the door ready to shut the large man out, "Please leave me."

"...Vanted to make sure doktor was alright..."

Ugh, the giant man was horribly timid outside of battle. It was almost annoying to see how easily he was intimidated by the doctor. Medic preferred Heavy's on-field persona; the violent and strong killing machine that made him feel protected.

Medic's nose scrunched up as he placed his retrieved spectacles on to his face.

"I vould like to be left alone for ze rest of ze night," he waved the large man off as if he were swatting at an annoying fly. The Russian smiled lightly and nodded, lumbering back a few steps as the door was slammed in his face.

Three long days ago, the Medic thought to himself as he found undergarments to cover himself from the dank cold in his living quarters. It was three days ago that the Medic was 'coerced', as he would now see it, into the arrangement by his team, "for morale".

Medic was a very practical man, and at the time the Spy and Soldier made sense.

Make the men feel better, relieve their oppressed libidos, they'll fight better and in turn his job would be easier, they both told him in tandem. No rushing around to heal sluggish teammates who were 'weighed down by their sense of loneliness' or 'too tense to battle properly' as the Spy put it.

They insisted he be the one to "perform" because he'd know the "right way", which the Medic decided to take as a complement, being a professional in his field and knowing the anatomy of the human body well.

And he had 'experience' of course. Sex was just a way to satiate one's hunger; nothing more, nothing less. It did not matter what the individual's gender was, as long as they were deemed healthy to perform properly by the doctor.

Medic happily agreed to the arrangement, feeling as though he were doing a special duty to his team that he could later lord over them. It was just another addition in the long list of reasons why he was the most integral member of their squad.

He was deterred, however, when he was told who his partner would be.

Medic scoffed as he laid down on his well made bed wishing he had gone to his ward. He couldn't leave now. He didn't want to see any of them, he was too annoyed and too tired. A well deserved night's sleep was in order, to forget about everything and everyone.

~~

Four days earlier:

~~

Scout was bored. Bored and brimming with unbridled energy since the snow storm had couped him and his team up in the cold tin can they called a base. The weather was so bad that the usual solitary Sniper was forced to move inside the base for his own safety from the cold and the harsh winds that threatened his rickety old van. He reluctantly shared a room with Scout after being denied any sanctuary by the rest of his teammates. He seemed especially dejected by the final "no" that came from the Spy, who wanted nothing to do with anyone outside of battle.

Scout happily accepted the man into his room, knowing full well he could bother the hell out of him and snoop through his stuff periodically.

The young man fished around in one of the old boxes of magazines that he pulled out from under the Sniper's cot.

"Guns, guns, guns...hunting...guns..." Scout murmured to himself quickly scanning the front covers of the thin books,"guns...hunting, gun-well hello there." A wide grin plastered itself on his face as he spied out a large photo of female breasts on the wrinkled and ripped glossy. He held the magazine by a page and let the centerfold slowly unfold, whistling. Wolfish grin, the boy rolled the book up under his arm and grabbed the few other porn mags underneath.

Like a kid who'd just stolen a fist full of candy, the Scout nimbly ran off, looking for a quiet, secluded place to put pin-up girls to work.

It was the loud burst of giggles that the Pyro heard first, recognizing the short girlish laughing as Scout's immediately. Some sort of mischief was being caused and Pyro wanted a piece of it. Scout ALWAYS knew how to have fun. The fire bug jogged down the hallway to a small computer room where the Scout sat on the floor, magazines spread about him, flicking through a few old pages before crumpling up the book and shoving it behind his back. He scrambled to around grabbing at the other magazines before the Pyro plucked one up quickly and stared.

"Huuuuuuhdaaaaa."

"YO MAN! GIMME THAT! It's mine ya fucking mumbling fag!!"

"Huu kuh shuh!"

"I DON'T WANNA SHARE WITH YOU!" he snatched the book from the Pyro, who balled up his fists and pointed at the Scout. The kid watched as the Pyro whipped his flamethrower from behind his back raising it in the air and letting out a loud "HUDAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Scout scooped up the magazines sloppily as the Pyro's fire licked at his heels. His shirt tail caught fire and much like his giggling, the loud screams he let out sounded much like that of a little girl.

After about a lap of relentless chasing the Pyro had cornered his prey. Weapon still trained on Scout, Pyro held out his hand and motioned for the Scout to hand over the contraband.

"Hudaaaaaaahhhh"

"Suck my dick! You ain't gettin' the-"

WOOSH. The Scout was burned to a crisp along with the skin mags, little pieces of Scout shirt and paper embers fluttering in the air. Five minutes later as the Pyro watched the charred boy's body disappear and the last magazines curl up in fire, the Scout burst from the respawn area in a slew of curses and slang that not even Pyro could begin to figure out.

It drew the attention of the Engineer who just happened to be passing by the two as Scout began to take pot shots at the Pyro with his bat, smacking the flamethrower from the man's hand. The southerner tried to calm the Scout only to get inadvertently whacked by the bat weilding boy. As the Engineer grabbed his bleeding nose and let out a howl of pain, the Soldier, who'd already been running to the source of the noise screaming "SPIES!" as he let loose a rocket on the three, sending each man across the room in separate directions from the explosion.

Scout was first to get to his feet and charge at the Pyro only to hit an invisible wall. The Spy materialized before the dazed and slightly charred boy who got to his feet quickly and made for the firebug. The suited assassin grabbed the boy's shirt and held him in place.

"You're fucking screwed firebug, those weren't even MINE you cock sucking dumb ass prick!!"

Pyro shrugged after checking himself for damage, "Huus whuu dehh?"

"The fuckin' Sniper's!" Scout mocked a long rifel and clicked his finger miming a gun shooting, "He's gonna blow your fucking head off from now till fuckin' the end of time!!!"

"COMPOSE YOURSELF LADY MAGGOTS!!" Soldier barked out, quieting the mass of vile words that was the Scout.

"What eez zees about ze Sniper?" Spy narrowed his eyes at the original bickering pair.

"The fuckin' Pyro fuckin' roasted all of the bushman's skin mags!"

In an eerily calm way the Spy let the Scout loose. The boy stood staring at the Frenchman. Spy flicked out his knife and went after the Pyro slashing at the man who let out a long howl,"EH WHU UHN AHSHUHDUHN!!!"

The blooded Engineer grabbed the Spy around the waist restraining the flailing Frenchman who slashed at the curled up Pyro in a crazed fashion.

"LET ME GO I WANT TO KEELL HIM MYSELF!!" The Spy growled out.

"Calm down!!" Engineer struggled to keep the Spy from turning the Pyro into his personal pin cushion.

"Zose books were ze closest thing to a woman on ZEES BASE."

The Engineer stared at the Spy and then looked to the Soldier who lowered his rocket launcher slowly, thoughtfully.

"Those were the one's I borrowed from ya?..." the hardhat asked the assassin who nodded.

"And... the one's you gave me?" Soldier murmured to the Engineer, who nodded slowly in response.

The man latched around the Spy's waist looked to the Pyro and glared, releasing the assassin as if he were letting loose an attack dog.

"GET 'IM!"

~~

Their revenge on the Pyro was swift and brutal. After the fire-starter had respawned for the fourth time having been stabbed, bludgeoned and blown up, the mob's anger had subsided but were still left with the same problem.

It would seem that the entire team's "stash" was Sniper's stash. And the Aussie wasn't all too happy to learn that not only had the Scout been rooting through his stuff but had completely fucked up all of his porn. Those involved with the tormenting of the Pyro felt a twinge of guilt:

Had it not been for Scout, none of it would have happened.

They'd all been stuck inside the compound for a solid two weeks now. The steady storm of snow and ice built up to where they could not launch a proper attack. Even the enemy RED team had given up in their pursuit to freedom. They had, although, successfully cleared a path for their mail to come in...and a small area large enough for their entire team to stand outside and hurl baseballs, bombs, rockets, and eggs, at the side of the BLU fort. None of it did much damage but it annoyed the hell out of Soldier.

With nowhere left to run, literally, the Scout found himself at the center of controversy. Pyro sat back, arms folded, unclear if he was angry or just still scared out of his wits.

"It was a damn wrong thing what ya did, boy." The Engineer shook his head, "And if ya do somethin' wrong, ya fess up to it or it'll come back an' bite ya in the ass."

"I didn't slice and dice the shit out of the Pyro! That was you guys!"

"Why the fuck were you rootin' through my shit, kid?"

"I wasn't going through nothin' that wasn't left out! PLUS! PLUS it's my room anyway ya fuckin' faggot!!"

"See, if ya had let me stay with you..." the Sniper murmured to the Spy who looked particularly peeved at the situation.

"Yeah, cause the sound uva bed banging against a wall woulda been much better than this..."

The Sniper stood up and advanced towards the Scout who stayed put, egging the man on as the Spy and the Engineer pushed him back to his seat.

Engineer sighed, "Yer not helpin' yer case kid."

"My CASE?" Scout laughed a few short chuckles amidst his broken English, "Like I'm on trial or somethin'?"

"Well yeah...kinda...you burnt all our porn..."

The boy became silent with the realization that they were all very seriously considering some form of punishment for his actions. Goddamn his short attention span and ability to get into trouble so easily. And now he was going to have his ass beat for wanting to jerk off.

Silently watching in a thoughtful and oddly serene manner, the Soldier took in a deep breathe before, yelling the first idea that popped into his head.

"WE WILL FUCK THE SCOUT." he said with the kind of absurd certainty one could liken to a delusional mental patient.

The four merely looked at him, each communicating their own disbelief in a range of facial expressions from the Spy's slightly slack jawed, uneven brow to the Scout's loud and sudden sputtering laughter.

And continuing on as if the others had the same gung-ho attitude, the army man explained, "WE PUT A WIG ON THE YAPPY LITTLE BOTTLE ROCKET AND GO AT HIM!"

Silence.

"You can't be serious, man...", the boy stuttered.

"WELL I AM PRIVATE! YOU DEPRIVED MY MEN OF SATISFACTION, YOU ARE A DETRIMENT TO MY TEAM!! IT'S MARTIAL LAW AROUND HERE, MY LAW! I AM GOD, AND AS YOUR GOD I WILL USE MY POWER TO DECLARE YOU THE TEAM FUCK-PUPPET DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

Scout stared.

"FROM NOW ON YOUR NAME IS MOLLY, YOU LIKE LONG WALKS ON THE BEACH, AND SUNSETS! DO I HEAR A YES SIR?! "

"....are you outta your FUCKIN' MIND, man?!" the boy yelled back.

The Spy, the Sniper, and the Engineer analyzed the Scout. The boy WAS small enough to look like a girl if you squinted, and he did certainly scream like one.

Pyro threw his hand in the air quickly pointing at the boy, "EHH HUV AH HMMM FURSH!" The firebug was looking for revenge and he would get it even if it meant taking the boy's anal virginity.

Scout shot back an ugly terrified look, "LIKE HELL YOU DO, RUBBER-SUIT!!"

"Well then I get seconds..." Sniper chimed in quickly, ignoring the single voice of protest.

The team was divvying up the lad as if he were a piece of meat. The group became louder as each man seemed to lose their inhibitions and agreed to go along with the idea of using the boy. Scout couldn't make any sense of the cacophony, having his own little panic session in his head but lost it as he watched the Engineer laugh and make a thrusting gesture with his wrench.

"HEY HEY HEY!! LISTEN ta me, this ain't happenin'!! Besides this ain't all my FAULT after all!", Scout yelled as the chatter quieted, "We wouldn't be gettin' no mail if the fuckin' Heavy would just help us fuckin' plow a path and scrape the FUCKIN' ice off the doors, but NO! We can't have that cause the FUCKIN' Doc thinks he'll catch the sniffles! He's from GODDAMN MOTHER FUCKIN' RUSSIA ain't 'e!? AIN'T IT ALWAYS SNOWIN' THERE AND SHIT?!"

Surprised by the outburst, and the fact Scout had a slight grasp on geography, the four glanced at eachother and considered his point.

They all had their personal vendettas against the Medic. He was smug and snide, his need to berate them when they were hurt.

Soldier, who was certain the doctor was a Nazi at one point, feared he was still a sympathizer to the cause. And when the Medic seemed to side with the giant Russian, all sorts of hellish (and insane) scenarios broke loose in his head; the commie and the nazi taking charge of his platoon after murdering him in a staged coupe. They'd burn flags and books and the constitution, all kinds of American things, pissing on the smoldering remains of freedom.

The Scout kept rambling, "The guy is such a JACKASS when you realize he don't give TWO SHITS about ANYUV us cept the GIANT MEAT SHIELD-"

The Spy felt irked by the German since day one. Respawning sucked, but so did having to wait for everyone else on the team to be taken care of and treated before he was considered. The doctor insisted he was teaching the Spy to handle his pain.

"Do you know how many shots ze Heavy can take before he ez finally taken down?"

Spy would sit silently as bandages and gauze and stitches and finally, the Medigun were used to cease his pain.

"Forty! Ze man was shot forty timez before he went down!"

Utterly unbearable, so much that he would ask the Sniper to "assist" him to the respawn.

"And FUCK you guys!! If ya wanna go and shove your creepy punishment on ANYONE why not on the FUCKIN' HEAVY! It's his fuckin' fault too, for bein' SUCH a PUSSY and LISTENIN' ta the GERMAN FRUITCAKE!!"

The situation with the Spy made the Sniper hate the Medic. The assassin was his...friend, or at least that was the little mental box he filed Spy under.

At first the Aussie found it funny, stabbing and shooting his team mate to death. Spy deserved it for all of his annoying cockiness.

But after the first few times, Sniper started to feel bad.

At times the Frenchman's injuries weren't even too serious, but the Spy refused to ask for the German's help. He claimed it was more painful to deal with the doctor's blathering, than to be shot in the head or stabbed a few times. Sniper knew what was expected when Spy would come to him, limping, bleeding, and wounded, with an unlit cigarette in his mouth. The assassin would take a few paces back and lean uncomfortably against the far wall, as if he were lined up for a nonchalant firing squad.

Sniper loaded his rifle, shaking his head, "I don't want to do this anymore, mate..."

Spy lit his cigarette and stared at the reddened tip "But you will."

The sharpshooter frowned and lowered his gun "Nah, ya know what...I don't think so this time-"

Spy took a drag from his smoke, "Your mother's a whore."

BANG.

Sniper stared at the Scout, memories swimming, refocusing his anger.

"SO IT AINT ALL MY FAULT!" The boy ended in a huff.

The Spy narrowed his eyes at Scout, "Gentlemen...I can't help but agree..."

~~
The small room emptied leaving only the smug looking Scout and Sniper behind. The boy gazed over to the Australian, pulling a rolled up magazine from the back of his shirt. He held it out for the Sniper to take.

"Go on fag, take it. Found it when you guys dragged me in here. I musta dropped it before Pyro made me into a campfire. I got no interest in...", he unrolled the glossy covered booklet, "'French men in maids outfits'."

Sniper yanked the magazine from his hand, glaring, face flushed in embarrassment.

"Where the HELL do you get somethin' like that?..."

"Jus' keep it quiet alright?"

"It's not like I even LOOKED inside, the pages are all stuck together, ya fuckin' perv."


-----

58 .

Second part

~~

When the Engineer and Spy decided to let Demo in on their 'plan', the Scot reminded them how cabin fever could affect one's judgement, and that vengeful mob mentality was no way to deal with their frustrations.

"Yar all idiots," he said shaking his head after a long drink from a brown glass bottle and setting it down on the wooden table .

Spy scoffed angrily as the Texan defended the idea, if only for his own personal gain.

The Engineer fancied the German in all of his smug egotistical glory. It turned him on. And if this was the only way to see the Medic laid out and aroused, then he'd take it. Then at least Engie would be able to embellish upon all the dirty fantasies he had.

Demo mumbled, "Believe me, I think tha guy's a bit of an prick an' I'd stick 'im up the ass too if I thought it'd take 'im down a few notches," he fiddled with an open canister bomb, unscrewing the lid slowly, "But wha' makes ya think he'll even agree ta the idea?"

Engineer cleared his throat, "We appeal to his intellect and his pride. Make him think he's doin' us all a favor..."

The man seated at the table nodded as if he considered the idea to be fairly good, "Well, if you're prepared ta humiliate the man, you better be ready for what might happen after all it's said an' done," he smirked.

-
Present day
-

The Medic turned over in his small bed, hard mattress creaking beneath him. The banging noise became louder and louder until he realized the clamor was not a part of his dream at all. He watched the metal door to his room rattle as the two voices outside argued, one yelling angrily how there should be "no locked doors in my compound", another voice, lower in tone trying to cease the undulation of volume.

"Doktor is tired..."

"I don't give a SHIT if he's tired! THERE IS NO NAP-TIME IN WAR!"

It was five in the morning. None of the others on their team besides the Heavy, Soldier, and himself would be up for hours. He knew the man's game. He wouldn't budge.

"THAT'S AN ORDER! I WANT THIS DOOR DOWN! I WANT IN THAT ROOM!"

"I don't vant to break doktor's door."

Medic murmured half asleep, annoyed with the both of them. Just a few more minutes, he figured, as the giant Russian voiced refusal once again to open the door.

In his dreams the German would often find solace in memories of home, of quieter times, faces that he knew but barely remembered, swirling like water in and out of his mind. He innately knew the faces that appeared to him in his dreams, even if their images were dulled by time.

None of the idiots here on his "team" could invade his mental privacy with their whining and intolerable cries for "Medic!" or "Doktor!" or "My arm! They blew my arm off!". Their demands and their weaknesses were far away...

Medic basked in quiet whispers of recollections and the feeling of two warm arms around him; whose they were, he could not tell.

"-OF MY WAY!"

"NO! EEZ TOO SMALL IN HALLWAY!"

With a loud boom, that frightened the Medic into a frenzy of arms and legs all tangled in a blanket, the door to his room bellowed and fell inward. The Soldier's uniform was singed, the tips of his collar still burning. The face that one could make out beneath the helmet was smeared in black from the explosion. The hallway behind the Soldier was all kinds of fucked up.

"UP AND AT 'EM DOC!" Soldier didn't seem the least bit angry, in fact he sounded quite happy to see the doctor in his quarters, as if he half expected something different.

Medic didn't want to show the American he was shaken. With as much precision as he could muster, he gently put his glasses on his nose and stood stiffly, knees shaking.

"SO WHAT'LL IT BE TODAY? TRAINING REGIMENT OR SNOW SHOVELING, LADIES?"

There was the question. The one he always expected since the day they found it near impossible to exit the compound.

"If ve had proper attire and eqviptment, I vould be more zen happy to go outside vith our dear Heavy. But ve do not..."

He knew the Soldier would work them into the ground if they went out there. He'd treat the situation like they were in battle. A battle against the elements. It was useless, it would only keep snowing, the wind would continue to blow and create snow drifts where they had just made clearings.

The RED team for all their effort, already found themselves trapped back in their own fort after the ice and snow piled up in their small clearing.

They, the whole lot of them on the BLU team, could not possibly hold himself and the Russian responsible for the situation.

The army man looked him over and set his jaw tightly before yelling out, "DO NOT FORCE ME TO MAKE IT AN ORDER, PRIVATE!" The Soldier whirled around to the Heavy who was trying to pick up the demolished door and set it back into place. His gaze slowly met with the American's.

"YOU WILL COME WITH ME OUTSIDE AND WE WILL RAPE MOTHER NATURE IN ALL HER ICY GLORY! DO YOU HEAR ME!?"

The Russian looked from Soldier to Medic. The German shook his head.

Heavy complied with the silent order, stating a clear "No."

The doctor sneered. It felt good to be able to control the man with just a flick of his hand or nod of his head.

Soldier fumed.

"If either of you falls ill, I vill have to care for you, ze respawn doez not cure sickness as ve have learned through ze Engineer's misfortune in contracting a stomach virus...." Medic remembered how, with every respawn, the Engineer would vomit violently from the room to the infirmary.

"...Training it is..." Soldier growled to the German, "after we will break for an hour, then REPORT to the DESIGNATED AREA AT FOURTEEN HUNDRED HOURS FOR FILMING!! NOW GET YOUR GIRDLE ON AND MOOOOVE, GOOSE-STEPPER!!!" Soldier screamed at Medic who took as much time as he saw fit in dressing himself properly.

Heavy stood at the door obediently, waiting for the doctor as the Soldier continued his stream of inane mouth noise.

And so went their day, just like the countless others, well with the exception of their added end of day 'activity'. Yesterday's awkward first day of really diving into the project made the Medic angry with all of them, with himself.

And if they Spy knew how truly awkward the German felt he'd be happily skipping about the BLU base, bathing in his vindictive victory. Naturally, Sniper would be attempting to get into the Frenchman's pants, because a happy Spy is easier to persuade to bed than a sad brooding one. Scout would feel confident that his anal virginity was safe with the heat off him, and the Soldier, well, he'd still be insane, but he'd know he had the mental upper hand over the 'nazi' and the 'commie'.

But the doctor was a proud man. Too proud to let the Heavy, who listened to him like a trained bear, shovel some snow; too proud to let the Soldier break him during their inane training exercise, and too proud to stick by his decision to quit the BLU's pornographic pet project. Medic's emotions were his and his alone to manipulate.

His Russian 'meat shield' seemed drained after their training exercise, dazed from scaling tall sets of stairs; condition training that required him to haul his giant gun up and down and up and down with him. Medic was not too worried. The giant man was tired, not exhausted. Heavy spent his hour break between their training and filming sleeping, bent over in a chair that looked too small for him, head resting in his arms.

Medic sat across from him after a long shower; half was spent washing and the other half making sure the big man didn't fall asleep while taking his own shower. Medic had finally managed to get the Russian to lean himself forward against the wall and wash properly.

A loud grumble sounded from the Heavy as he took in a deep breath.

The already long day was going to get longer...

Medic had the opportunity to flick through the small section of the script they'd be covering that afternoon. He murmured some assuring words in an attempt to convince himself that giving the Heavy "a half oral half hand job" wouldn't be all to bad. Noooo, it wouldn't be uncomfortable at all to perform a sexual act with an individual he had no attraction to....

'Why couldn't it have been the Engineer,' the Medic thought listlessly. That would be easier, at least the doctor enjoyed his company...

Stirring from his sleep, probably woken by his own loud snoring, Heavy sat up. His eyes crossed in a daze but focused quickly on the Medic as if trying to recall where they were and if they were in the middle of training or not.

The German murmured a "You are fine, just rest...".

And with a big half sleepy smile, Heavy laid his head down once more to rest for the ten minutes left of their hour. Medic didn't know why but felt compelled to gently reach over and rub the back of the man's head in a soothing manner. The sleeping man sounded like a large purring beast as he adjusted his head into a more comfortable position.

In all of his time at the base, Medic had never really considered his Russian comrade as a person rather than a tool. He'd never noticed the way the man's shoulders sat unevenly, probably due to the strain his weapon put on his dominant arm. The tiny peaks of the Heavy's shoulder blades poked from beneath the thick skin of his bare back. Medic watched the muscles beneath the man's skin twitch as he began to drift deeper into sleep. The doctor was still gently stroking the Russian's head...

"ALRIGHT YOU COCK SUCKING MAGGOTS!!"

Medic jumped, completely unprepared for the loud outburst, but it was nothing compared to Heavy who sat bolt up right screaming "RED SCOUT HAS SANVICH!!" The leg of his chair snapped sending him backwards, roaring until he smacked the floor like a piece of meat.

Soldier continued on, seemingly louder, if that were at all possible, "I DO NOT REMEMBER GIVING YOU PERMISSION TO FALL, PRIVATE!"

The doctor leaned over the table worried the man might have a concussion. Heavy lugged himself up slowly, the sharp adrenaline rush leaving him panting and wide-eyed.

"FIIIIVE MINUTES!" he turned on his heels and left the room.

The Russian gripped his head giving a grumbling moan, finally on his feet. Medic looked him over and deemed him fine.

"Ze sooner ve get out zere, ze faster zis vill be ovah, ja?"

Heavy nodded, "Vat does eet say for me to do?" he asked, pointing to the script.

"Ah it looks as though you have ze easy part, just laying back and relaxing..."

"Vat does doktor do?"

Medic tried not to let his face twist into a sour expression but could not hold back, "Just vorry about yourself, it vill be obvious shortly..."

Heavy yawned looking tired once more, unwilling to continue his line of questioning. He followed the Medic onto the staging area.

Sniper was seated behind the camera that was pointed off to the right of the set, towards the large expanse of the room that held most of the BLU team members. Spy stood leaning back onto a table, watching the Demo and Scout laughing. Pyro watched the Scout angrily, dropping a tray of food onto the table next to the masked assassin. With a muffled grumble the rubber-suit headed back to the kitchen to fetch the rest of the food for the cast.

Engineer was hunched over on the floor trying to repair a frayed wire mumbling to himself, "Wish the kid would stop kicking around this cord..." He only stopped to look up and stare as the Medic, who was only clad in his rubber gloves and a towel pass by him, stepping over the hardhat's equipment with care. Heavy dragged his feet, taking the same path. Engineer quickly grabbed the bundles of wires to keep the big man from tripping over them.

The Russian, clad only in his pants and large boots (as per their scripted directions) sat himself down onto one of the staged crates as fatigue overtook him again. He yawned as he rubbed his big balled up fists into his eyes, attempting to rub the sleep from them. He leaned back and let the noise of the room wash over him, tuning out what they were saying. Their voices became white noise, lulling him into a serene state of mind.

"ALRIGHT! I WANT THIS DONE IN ONE SHOT! WE ARE WORKING WITH LIMITED AMMO!-"

"Film." Sniper corrected the American.

"Alright, Gentlemen, you have prepared for ze scene, non?" a smirk quipped at Spy's lips as he addressed the two, "got in enough practice?"

Medic grumbled at the Spy, but Heavy could only wonder what he was talking about.

Scout clamored with the boom mic, "C'MON let the cocksucking faggot-ing begin!!"

Medic attempted to find his 'happy place' so he could escape any mental scarring from what he was about to do to the large man, as the Soldier yelled "THE CAMERA CAN GO ON NOW!" and the Sniper replied with "You mean 'action', mate".

'What was the last good lay I've had?', the doctor thought as he centered himself between the Russian's legs, leaning up with the beginnings of a grin playing at his lips, 'Mmm, tall, blonde German soldier. He was a good fuck, even if he was all energy and no form.'

Heavy's face turned red, still half lidded with sleep, completely caught up in the moment as the Medic's mouth went to his neck. He groaned and began to push his hips forward. The veil of sleepiness amplified the wonderful little shots of intense sensations; lips dragging down the skin of his neck and up to his jawline. To his dismay, the doctor avoided mouth to mouth contact even as he a gave a small begging whine. Rubber covered fingertips dug into the skin of his back.

Heavy couldn't care that the others were watching, sneering at the two of them. In fact, he barely noticed....

"CLOSE UP! THERE!" the Soldier burst out standing immediately behind the Sniper, who slammed his eye socket into the sight of the camera.

"What the fuck man!" Scout yanked the headphone from his ear as feedback came screeching through.

Medic looked over his shoulder, angrily, completely thrown from his fantasy.

"KEEP ROLLING, KEEP ACTING!"

Heavy grunted, eyes squeezed shut, face flushed as the Medic dragged his fingers over the man's skin in a smooth tantalizing way, still scowling at the film crew. The Russian began to undo his own pants, tugging them down so that his erection was freed. He couldn't wait, he groaned for attention.

"Goddamn thing..." Sniper growled trying to reposition the clunky old camera. He cursed at it as it began clicking loudly, "film's fucking stuck..."

"Hold on, hold on, lemme see what's goin' on..." the Engineer said, intervening.

Just as the Medic was about to get up and call it quits he felt a hand on his, pulling his palm, wrapping his fingers around the Heavy's long thick cock.

"Please...do not stop..." the large man's eyebrows knit together.

The doctor pulled his hand away and slowly removed his gloves, eyes locked on the face above him that looked so painfully wrapped in passion.

Only a few simple touches sent the man into this kind of state? What would happen if...

Medic licked his palm and began to work the man's erection slowly, in long strokes. Heavy bumped his head back against a crate, shifting it slightly.

The group behind the doctor had congregated around the camera, bickering with each other, pointing at wires and yelling orders to the Engineer who was more than slightly pissed off at the interruption. "Fucking cock blocking BLUs...", he grumbled to himself.

Hips rolling in precise rhythm, Heavy bit down on his fingers, the intense pleasure rising. Medic found the entire scene enthralling; the way the man moved. With each hard stroke, the man jerked forward. He squeezed the head of the Russian's cock as he came to the top and the man would groan.

Heavy's jaw hung slack and his body, as big as it was, moved in a strangely erotic fashion, his stomach tightening causing him to curl forward slightly.

"M-more...please..."

Medic couldn't remember what went through his mind, but he found himself compelled to wrap his lips around the man's cock and take the entire length into his throat. Heavy's legs parted, he bent over completely, stopping short of grabbing the doctor's head for fear he might quit the wonderful swirling strokes of his tongue. The German's mouth was so hot and wet, like he imagined, and it felt wonderful as it moved up and down . The tight seal formed by his lips dragged his skin up and down with it.

Words failed the Russian as he tried to warn the Medic how close he was to orgasm and how fucking good it all felt; it all came out in a loud growl that was drowned out by the sound of their arguing team mates. His eyes rolled back as he came.

"Stop TOUCHIN' on it kid!!" Engineer shoved the bouncy little Scout away from the camera, untangling the film carefully.

Medic swallowed, feeling confused and turned on all at the same time.

With little jolts of movements as his limbs continued to spasm, the big Russian man leaned back slowly, closing his eyes and letting sleep overtake him.

Engie closed the hatch on the video camera declaring, "THERE! It's fixed!"

"Woll, someones gotta wake the big guy up now..." Sniper glanced over the few heads in front of him to the sleeping Heavy.

Medic stared blankly at the floor for a second before making eye contact with the others. They hadn't seen or noticed a thing...

"Bah!" Demo took swig of his drink, "'e'll never wake up now, looka him!"

"Let the sleeping dog...giant..lay or whatever the fuck...either way I'm not goin' over there, so you can stop looking at ME, ya baguette munchin' faggot."

Spy growled, "Fine zen, doctor," he called out, "we'll finish zees tomorrow!-"

Medic pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. At least he could say he had practice now.

59 .

THANK YOU. I was waiting for someone to post this SO MUCH; I haven't seen many fics where Medic is indifferent to Heavy at first. But is I Eat Paste still on the Chan? I haven't seen them.

60 .

Does anyone have whatever was posted of fivetail's visitation fic? Will they be posting it any of it here?

61 .

We badly need vivisectionist medic and you. If there's one out there someone post it, if not I'll have to take a stab at writing it.

62 .

Wrong thread, this is what I get for tabbed browsing. Good job to everything who dug up fics.

63 .

On the old chan, there was a fic with Heavy finger-fucking Scout and another Scout/Heavy story involving a reacharound. Anyone want to repost them?

64 .

>>17

Is this it? ((Note, I did not write this; I think RobotLyra did, but don't quote me on it!))

Medic and You Part 1

You have just decided that musical accompanimunt for a routine medical examination is in fact a very bad idea. It's not that you aren't a music lover, your copy of Pet Sounds with grooves worn down close to non-existence attests to that. It's just that if you had the choice, you'd really prefer something other than the howl of german opera. But the immaculate gleam of the medical office is firmly the realm of the Medic, and judging from the scratch and hiss of the record, Der Ring des Nibelungen is on permanent rotation, and not likely to be displaced for anything short of Ragnarok itself. So you grit your teeth through another earsplitting aria and hope to get this over with as soon as possible.

It's not that you don't appreciate the Doctor and what he does, oh far from it. He's saved skins more times than you can count. It's just he's a little... what's the word ... intense? Something about him makes it difficult for you to relax. Maybe it's that his accent is a little intimidating. Maybe it's the fact that his eyes are a shade of blue so deep that it doesn't seem entirely normal. Or it could be that just last week you saw him disembowel an enemy spy using nothing more than a repurposed bonesaw. Whatever the case, sitting on a cold steel exam table in your unmentionables sure isn't helping matters.

In the meantime, the Medic seems unnaturally cheerful today. While he's certainly at home in a skirmish, this office is where he's most comfortable. From the crisp click of his immaculately shined boots on the laminate floor to the flawless white of his jacket (how the hell DOES he get those bloodstains out every time?), every inch of him exudes confidence and energy. You fight off a wave of goosebumps, cursing inwardly.

He examines a clipboard, adjusting the round glasses on his nose, humming quietly. “Now, how are ve feeling today, hm?”

“Well no extra holes as of late, so pretty good I'd wager!” Your weak smile wilts into a chewed lip under the ultramarine gaze.

The levity shoots right by him. He scribbles briefly on the clipboard. “Yes, yes. Good. Now hop on the scale, bitte.”

He starts putting you through the motions of the standard physical. Weight, height, visual observation, all that. Even with the melodramatic howling in the background, you think you're finally beginning to ease up. Then a rubber gloved finger artfully traces the alignment of your spine.

Goddamnit, ANOTHER wave of goosebumps. You're praying he doesn't notice as you hop back up on the table, but oh goody here comes the stethoscope. At least now you can blame it on the little cold metal pad.

He places the stethoscope pad onto your skin in the hollow of your chest, and you just manage not to startle when it makes contact, but before you can congratulate yourself on not looking like a complete idiot, you can see his brow furrowing. He pauses, makes a little doubtful noise in his throat. And just when he lifts the device away, and you think he's moved on, you realize he's just going over to turn down that stupid record player.

In the silence of that examination room, the cacophony of Wagner was never more missed than now. He returns and listens again to your pulse, and tells you what you're already painfully aware of.

“Your heart rate is elevated.”

Before you can respond, he's reached the pad around to your back, arm nearly curled around you. “Breathe deeply”, he orders. He's focusing on you intently now, as you try your damnedest to inhale normally. A few gasps and rattles later, and his brow has dropped even lower.

“You are very tense.” He announces as he returns to his clipboard. “Perhaps the conditions here are beginning to tax you.” He pauses as he finishes his scribbling. “Or, is there another reason, possibly, vhy you could be so nervous?” His expression indicates that he clearly suspects the latter.

“I-I'm sorry... I guess I'm just not that good with... doctor's appointments.” You blather. The statement is ALMOST true. You'd probably be a lot more relaxed if you didn't have those eyes bearing down on you, like you were some sort of specimen to be dissected, opened up to have all your secrets revealed.

He sucks his teeth in vague irritation, a soft sharp little noise that makes you check slightly. “Basic medical examination is intended to detect and diagnose problems BEFORE they become serious. There is no reason to be so high strung. But if you do not relax, I cannot check you properly.”

You attempt to hide a pout as well as you can manage (not very), and try to focus on something else. Maybe if you can just get your mind off it, you can get it over with. And that's when your eyes land on a little black case in the corner of the office, almost hidden by another jacket on the rack.

“Wait, you brought that to field operations?”

“It alvays comes vith me.” He replies tersely, marking a few notes.

“Huh, so I guess you play, right?”

“Mmm.” He makes a noise in affirmative, and tries to get back to his poking and prodding of your flesh.

“Then how come I've never heard you?”

Now it's his turn to look uncomfortable. To be honest, it's a little unusual. You've never seen that kind of expression on his face.

“It is not important. Now hold your arms out in front of you.”

You follow his directions, but continue your interrogation. “Come on. If you love that thing enough to bring it with you into a war zone, then you must be really good at playing it.”

“A true musician is never fully satisfied with his skills.” He partially mutters, slipping a pressure cuff around your arm.

“That's not really an answer.” As the cuff tightens around your arm, it occurs to you suddenly. “Waiiiiit. You're embarassed about it, aren't you?”

“I have NO idea vhat you're talking about.” He snatches the pressure cuff off, and sulks over to the jars of medical supplies on the shelf. It is eminently clear that your positions have been inverted.

“It's not a big deal to be embarrased by something. I mean, look at me.” You try to be as pleasant as possible, but he marches back and jams a tongue depressor into your mouth.

“Pah, nonsense. I have nothing to be embarassed about.” He growls as he shines a light onto your tonsils.

“Ehn ay or eee.” You mumble around the mouthful of popsicle stick.

“Vhat vas that?” He removes the popsicle stick from your mouth and you repeat yourself.

“Then play for me.”

He freezes, in mid notation. You can't help but smile a just a little. “Come on. Play something for me. Just me, nobody else. I promise I won't tell anyone else about it.”

You can see the expressions on his face changing, as his train of thought gathers steam. Finally he glares at you.

“I vill play for you, but not now. Later. Tonight. After Call to Quarters.” He snaps. It takes him a moment to comport himself. “Now can ve continue vith the YOUR examination, bitte?”

“Yes I think so.” And your curiosity and anticipation does indeed make the rest of the appointment go much smoother.

You realize you've never seen the Medic out of uniform before. In these later hours of the evening, in the golden-lit comfort of his quarters, he has dispensed with the white overcoat and the constricting tie, leaving him in his shirtsleeves, rolled up to his elbows and collar opened. He's also, oddly enough, barefoot, a token of casualness that nearly takes you aback. But he seats you on his bed with that familiar air of definitive action.

The violin case is set on a small table, along with the record player. In the corner of the room he rifles through a box full of records, and selects one. You can't make the title out from where you're sitting, and he notes your craning to see. He turns the sleeve over, and tsks quietly. “Now. You asked to hear me play, and you vill. But none of your prying beforehand. Just sit and listen.” He sets the vinyl onto the turntable and takes up the violin case.

When he opens it, you catch the gleam of amber wood. But as he draws it out, the instrument appears clearly scarred: there are superficial scratches and burns, the blister of a patched bullet hole, and splattered haphazardly across the entire object, the maroon glare of what can only be dried blood.

You make to ask a question, but catch yourself as he starts twiddling the pegs and checking the tune. He has that look on his face that tells you interruption is out of the question. When he's finally satisfied with the sound, he sets the needle on the record player.

The record must be a recorded audio accompanimunt, and the track ticks rhythmically for a few beats, the sound of a metronome counting in the time signature. After one measure, it fades to silence, and the Medic draws the bow across his violin.

The quiet, chill tone of piano on the record, is a distant contrast to the warm, rich voice of the instrument played before you in the here and now. His eyes close as he focuses entirely on the music, which is all the better for you, because you don't realize that your mouth is hanging slightly ajar until the piece is almost complete. There is a familiarity in his posture, his expression, that same intensity that made you pause before, but now, in the intimacy of his room, with his music, it draws you in like a moth to a flame.

You raise your hands in quiet, heartfelt applause, and struggle for the right praise. After a moment or two you manage to settle on “That was AMAZING, what was it?”

He turns his face away slightly, but not soon enough for you to miss the slight rosyness on his face. He clears his throat in a businesslike manner and mutters. “J.S. Bach, Air in G. It was adequate. My vibrato lacks clarity, however.”

“Will you quit the modesty act? You're incredible! The best I ever heard!”

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, somewhat flustered by the praise, but he doesn't take it badly. “Thank you... but I feel I lack interpretive skill. Anyone can become passably proficient vith enough practice, but true art takes years of development.”

“It's more than I could do, I doubt I could get one squeak out that didn't sound terrible.” You inch over to one side of the bed a little self consciously as he sits beside you.

“Nonsense. Everyone loves music in some form. So everyone can be taught. In some form.” His voice is slipping into a softer register, and he is watching you intently again. Not the surgical, scruitinizing stare of earlier today, but something entirely different. It makes you shift slightly as you sit. He takes the inch you've given and presses closer by another half.

“I don't know...” you start, but trail off.

“It is not so difficult,” he murmurs. His arms bring the violin up towards you, and he tucks it gently under your chin. One broad hand takes yours and delicately presses your index finger down onto the fingerboard. His other arm brings the bow around and he draws out the note. “E. And now to G.” He moves your fingers again, and the calloused pads press one down into a new position. “A,” he breathes against your cheek, and draws again. This continues for a while, but soon your hands are laid gently aside as he takes up the melody, chin hooked gently over your shoulder. He is murmuring something softly, actually singing, right into your ear, something in german...“Wie lieblich sind deine Wohnungen...”

Your hands, now free, have slipped down by your sides, and one rests on his knee. You can't stop it from gripping slightly as his lips brush across your ear as he continues, “Meine Seele verlanget und sehnet sich...” And then, he presses a kiss to it.

Your gasp carries more voice than expected, but he laughs softly, and goes along with it. “Such a sound. Those who cannot play can always sing. I have played for you, vill you sing for me, Kleine?” His mouth, warm and insistent, inches its way down your cheek to settle in the hollow of your neck.

You can only manage a soft moan, and you realize he's set the violin aside and enfolded you entirely in his arms. One hand reaches up to graze against your throat while the other presses low on your belly. “Vhere talent is lacking passion vill aid, for vithout passion, all is mere clockvork,” he rumbles against your neck. The lower hand dips under fabric, seeking skin.

You burst out with another little sound of surprise, and you hear his amused hum. “The racing heartbeat again. Vas this the reason all along?” The thickening haze of arousal is momentarily cleared by the realization that he can actually mark your pulse from merely pressing his mouth against that swelling vein in your throat.

He growls, as his hand dips lower, pushing clothes out of the way on the journey down in between your legs. “They vere leery of my 'passions' in Greifswald. But how can I deny them? Mein Leib und Seele freuen sich,” he intones, and a cool even line of teeth graze against your skin.

“Oh god,” you can't help but gasp out, as he finds you, deep down, and begins to stroke, deft surgeon's hands working with diabolical skill. You note helplessly that he has pulled you fully onto his lap by now, and his other hand is working to rid you of your shirt.

“And it appears I am not alone,” he laughs gently, in between nibbles. When he has managed to pull the shirt off, he tilts your face towards his with his free hand, and kisses you fully. His lips are soft compared to the rough trace of stubble that lies as a shadow under his skin. The press of dark, wet velvet takes over your mouth, and leaves your moans muffled.

He breaks the kiss, gradually, and fixes you with those eyes again, and they are dark, dark blue, almost black in this low light. “Now tell vhat you vant...”

His fingers inside of you twist out another wave of pleasure and you're about to moan for him to hurry up and make love to you before you lose your senses but he presses a finger to your lips first.

His smile is the like brief gleam of a concealed knife, and he purrs. “Ah ah... in deutsche.”

You flounder desperately, trying to remember any of the little snippets of german he has attempted to ingrain in you, but his warmth and his stare and the imperative hardness of him pressing into you makes it nearly impossible. You whimper plaintively the only thing you manage to hold onto even now “...bitte.”

His smile softens in mercy, and he cups your chin. “Ah, schwach kleine. I should not be so cruel.” His thumb traces the line of your lower lip. “You vould say: Eroberst mich.”

“Eroberst mich.” You repeat. “What does it mean?”

“It means, 'take me.'”

Your eyes widen, and his mouth falls over yours again, muting any further commentary.

He keeps you on his lap somehow in the frenzy of movement and the tangle of limbs, while he strips the rest of your clothes, and bares his own skin as well, leaving only his white shirt open and flung haphazardly around his shoulders. His strength startles you as he lifts you up, one arm under your legs, and eases the blushed length of his erection into you with infinite care. Enthroned on his lap and full to the point of ecstasy, you claw fruitlessly behind you to get more of him in your grasp, and settle for looping your arms up and behind, to thread through his hair. He rocks forward and up, with a little moan, fingers on your chest grazing roughly across a nipple. The other snakes down your front again, more free without the constriction of clothes, to work its magic.

You wish you knew German, because he is saying such terrible, wonderful things in your ear in between the nips and the licks, things that sound both elegant and profane at the same time in that guttural tongue. But you settle for the sound of his voice getting higher and louder as he presses into you again and again, and your near wordless moans are accompaniment enough.

You can feel the heat of him as his stomach and chest press up against your back, and one hand splays over your chest, a cage to catch your pounding heart. He nips at your earlobe and slides back into English just long enough to growl, “Sing, sing for me!”

You can't help but oblige him as he presses in again, and his hand between your legs circles insistently, pulling an aching soprano cry out of your throat. He matches it with a wail of his own, before urgently bringing your face around to kiss you again. Under the hood of your half-lidded eyes, you can see his face, blushed with abandon, hair slightly askew, fine dark brows knitted in rapture. Even in this madness of pleasure, you take care to remember it, for he has never looked more beautiful.

He gives a harsh little shout, and tightens, all around you, as he slips over the edge. Then, a shuddering moan slips out and he drapes himself over your shoulder, as you follow after him, breathless and dewed with perspiration. In his completion, he eases backwards onto the bed, taking you with him. Rolled onto your side, he curls around you, one arm flung haphazardly over your body. When the rattle of both your breathing has finally dwindled and he has slipped delicately out of you, you hear his soft, musical laughter on the back of your neck, as he presses a final kiss there.

“A fine performance, don't you think?” He muses.

You nuzzle back against him as he reaches over and sets his glasses down on the table. “I'd say a standing ovation is in order, but I don't think either of us can at the moment.”

His short bark of laughter makes you smile as much as the fingers that flicker up your side.
“Vell put, Kleine. Vell put.”

65 .

((Once again; didn't write this.))

Medic and You Part 2: Verboten

It's been three weeks since your little private performance with the Medic. Since then, the doctor decided that it would be in the best interests of the both of you, if the dalliances were kept sub rosa. He is nothing, if not devoted to at least appearing professional. And as if to emphasize the fact, a sudden burst of particularly intense combat with the opposite team makes it nearly impossible to meet with him, even if the scandal of discovery meant nothing to the both of you.

The frenzy of activity does nothing to distract you from your growing longing, however. You see him out in the field, in each skirmish. You watch him as he follows the surge of the attack, swift and sure, boosting his comrades in both strength and morale. You watch as he races back and forth, just inches from the line of fire, as you defend your base from a payload attack. You watch as he works to heal all the wounds, with the sternness of his clinical detachment, and yet with the unspoken tenderness of a dear friend. Your eyes meet across the battlefield, from time to time. And you can see the smile that curls ever so faintly across his lips.

It seems that even he is not immune to longing, though. He begins to tease, as combat starts tapering off. His touch lingers, as you congratulate amongst yourselves after a successful sortie. He watches you, pointedly, through another of Soldier's blustering tactical dissertations. At one point he even catches you by surprise, in an empty hallway, coming up behind as stealthily as a Spy. His arms loop around your body briefly and his stubbled jaw skims against your cheek. “Soon, mein herz...” he rumbles into your ear, and before you can whirl around and grab a hold of him, he is already striding off, as cool and unflustered as ever.

He is driving you mad.

And then, mercifully, the fighting trickles to a halt. The opposing team driven back to lick its wounds and regroup, you find yourselves in a temporary cease fire. You are both barely even off the field and into the base when his gloved fingers creep over the back of your neck. He purrs softly, “2200, tonight,” before slipping away, leaving you to cling for dear life to the doorframe, lest your legs give out entirely.

The rest of your teammates have settled in for the night, when you finally slip round the corner and down the stairs to his quarters. You have to stop to collect yourself so you don't knock too hard on his door, but your knuckles have barely tapped once before you hear him answer, “Come in, kleine.” You claw at the knob, barely keeping yourself from flinging the door open, you simply cannot wait any longer. You must have him again, have him pressed against you, or you're certain you'll lose your mind.

What you see waiting in the room promptly erases all thoughts in your head from existence.

The Medic is there, seated easily in his little swiveling chair, legs crossed saucily. He sets aside his journal and pen, as a smile of beatific innocence plays across his features. It is all in complete contrast to the black SS uniform he's wearing.

Your mouth makes a few open and shut movements while the door squeaks closed behind you, shutting with a faint, yet ominous click.

“Schätzchen, is somezing troubling you?” His tone is light and musical, and combined with that grin of his, it hits you like cold grease trickling down the back of your neck. You raise a hand and gesture vaguely at him, and mumble something about why or how or oh god you can't possibly be.

He raises one eyebrow and then remarks airily, as if your reaction is a totally unexpected surprise to him. “Oh, zis uniform? You vish to know how I came to have it?”

You can only swallow and nod slightly as he rises from his chair, and prowls toward you, chatting as conversationally as if he were at afternoon tea. “I recall, I had just returned to Greifswald University vhen it reopened in '46, and I vas not there even a veek before I got some strange mail. Some distant relative, a step-cousin or an uncle, tvice removed, something like zat, killed in action, and his personal effects had to be returned to zhe family. But he had no living direct kin, and so the package kept passing hands, until it arrived in mine. Inside vas zhis uniform.”

He plucks idly at a shiny silver button. “I meant to dispose of the verdammten thing, no man vith sense in his head vould be caught vith a Waffen uniform on his hands vith the Red Army routing the local garrison for trial. But... I just could not. Somezhing about it compelled me to keep it. I heard rumors about its psychological impact on ozhers. To be entirely honest, I never believed something as simple as an item of clothing could elicit a .... vhat is the vord... visceral response. But I vas curious. And I remained curious, when I noted it vas almost nearly my own size.”

As he draws close to you, you can see how it fits him, indeed almost his own size, but perhaps a little snug across the chest, and the line of the dress jacket sits a little high on his hips. But even so, it looks good on him. Far too good. The clean, crisp lines and the shining leather belt around his waist accentuate his already impressive physique, which is not quite yet softening into the effects of middle age. And then there's the color. Black just suits him, for some reason. Keeping the suit hidden has only kept it from fading; it is black as ink, crow feathers, midnight, black as charcoal.

He lifts your chin with one appraising finger “I can see now zhere is some credence to zhe claims. You seem frightened, Liebeling. Tense.” A gloved thumb traces the line of your bottom lip. “You have shown such behavior once before. Vhen you vere in my office, under my examination.” He draws close enough to press you back against the door, looming over and pressing his forehead against yours. “Do fear because zhe uniform strikes it into your soul as zhey were touted to do? Or do you fear because you desire zhis?”

Your jaw works a little, while your mind attempts to reboot, and come up with a valid excuse or protest, but he seals your lips with one finger. He has apparently been preparing for this little exercise for quite some time, and there is no stopping him now. You find yourself questioning whether you even want him to stop.

“I have a theory,” he muses. “Zhe item itself is not zhe focus of desire, but zhe simple fact zhat it is verboten. Vhen one should not vant, one only vants it more.” He begins trailing a hand down his neck, and starts undoing buttons. “Zhe only vay I can think to properly treat such a condition is to indulge it.”
He grasps one of your hands in his, and brings it up to his now bared chest, to flatten over the hollow where his heart lies. His pulse is strong under your fingertips, and a nipple rises to attention as your fingers graze past. “Ve shall desensitize you, until your guilt is gone.” He moves your hand inexorably downward, to rest at the waistband of the jodhpurs. “And to start, you must come face to face vith your anxiety.” A quirk of his eyebrow suggests exactly HOW you will be facing things.

As you kneel between his legs, your mind races for an alibi. Just imagine you're sucking off a cop instead, something trite like that. Oh I had no idea I was going so fast, officer, do you think you could let me off with a warning? Cliche, tame enough, keep your eyes closed and you won't be able to tell the difference. But as he reaches down, and cups your chin upwards, you are forced to meet that glacial gaze, that carnivorous smile, and there's no excuse your mind can make. You're pleasuring a man who looks like the pride of the Party, and you realize with a guilty writhing in your stomach that you are enjoying it.

You fiddle awkwardly with the buttons on the woolen pants. The suit smells like gunpowder, the mustiness of age and old cedar, which mixes with the Medic's usual bouquet of alcohol antiseptic and the distant chill of peppermint. You pull him out of the fly, and he's already hard. Maybe this whole uniform thing makes him as hot as it does you, but he's a lot less torn up about it. Hell, he looks like he loves every minute of it. He paws gently through your hair, and curls fingers around the shell of your ears as you lean in and gently presses your lips to his heated flesh.

Although fully in control, he is gentle and patient, and lets you explore with your mouth at your leisure. He hums appreciatively as kisses turn into full-tongued licks, tracing his contours. “Sehr gut,” he murmurs, and you shiver slightly. He is apparently not even going to give you the mercy of his silence either. “Remember, kleine, it is just a uniform...” he comments amusedly above you, and the softness of his belly moves with his warm laughter.

Well, if he's going to be all chatty about this little hang-up, then you're going to make it difficult for him to speak, you decide. Eyebrows knit with concentration, you take him into your mouth as much as is comfortably possible. The pressure of your suction causes him to clutch tighter into your hair and reduces him to a shuddering moan. “Nnn! Mein Gott...” he sputters briefly, before lapsing into silence broken only by the rough panting of his breath.

You continue in this way, hungrily lapping and suckling, edging further into arousal as you listen to his moans. You wonder how close he is to the edge when suddenly, he tenses, and abruptly pulls you away from him, both hands framing your jaw. He pulls you upwards, to assault you with a hungry kiss. The pressure, the warmth, the intensity of it is so arresting that you barely even notice that he's maneuvered you over to the bed, until your knees are folded underneath you by contact. Falling back on the covers with a startled gasp, he arches over you, open shirt like drooping black wings.

A frenzy of tugged clothes and hurried kisses ensues, he kisses every part of you that becomes exposed, from throat to chest to belly, flicking at your nipples, dipping into the hollow of your navel, and even down between your legs, paying back your previous obedience in full. The sweet agony of his mouth is momentary, however, and you can see the hunger glittering in his eyes, as he just barely tugs the jodhpurs down his hips enough to be out of the way.

A moment of profound silence as he stops, and drags gloved fingers down your body. “You vant I should leave the jack-boots on?” he muses, and the smirk that settles on his face would tempt a saint.

Shame be damned, you grab him by the lapels of the uniform, knuckles white against fine black wool, and pull him down until chests meet and bodies rub together. “Shut up and just give it to me already,” you hiss into his ear.

He enters you with a shudder and a smile of vicious indulgence, while one gloved hand reaches up to pin your wrists above your head. The other lingers down at the space between your hips, and he doubles your bliss with his skillful attentions. He grinds into you, smooth and firm, and it is exactly what you need. You are pinned down under his hands, under the control of a black-clothed conqueror, helpless to do anything but ride out his passions, and it is ecstasy.

At some point in the fierce tangle, he releases your arms, and they immediately wrap around him again to hold on for dear life. He buries his face in the side of your neck to lave and suckle the tendons and the pulse of the vein there, while stubble frictions your cheek into sudden heat. Moving upwards, teeth are grazing across the curve of your ear. When he actually traces the curvature with his tongue, you gasp something incoherent, and your fingers claw bluntly along his back. He is pressing into you and on top of you, driven deep into the mattress by his weight, and you can feel his heat where you join, and it's all cluttering together in a mix of sensation and sound, and when he thrusts into you a final time, you can feel his release deep inside. As his expression melts from exquisite torment to satisfaction, you spill over the edge at that very moment, high and white and perfect.

Sense returns, to find him still sprawled over your body, breathing slow and deep. You lay there, for a few moments, then comb idly through his hair with a free hand. It seems to rouse him from his stupor. He arches up and away, but not before favoring you with a tender kiss.

He finally pulls the uniform off, and examines it, looking distastefully at the stains of sweat and human release. “A sorry state,” he muses, as he lays it carelessly on the chair.

“We'll have to be more careful next time.”

He turns towards you, and the look of wonder and faint curiosity on his face is almost as good as the look of his climax. “Next time?” he asks, gesturing to the clothes.

All you answer him with is a smile.

66 .

I LOVED THIS. Scratched my uniform-kink itch wonderfully, and I have a special...interest in those black leather SS uniforms. Mmmmm...Medic in an SS uniform...I'll be in my bunk.

67 .

>>64
Yups, that's the one RobotLyra wrote. Mmmm, that SS uniform just tickles my fancy.

68 .

>>67

Thanks for clearing that one up for me! I always liked this one!

69 .

>>2

I have the rest of "Phenomenology". Would you like me to post it up?

70 .

Didn't say it was bad, just said it needs to be beta'd.

71 .

Does anyone happen to have all of Bunkmates? It was a Sniper/Spy fic, and I have the first two parts, and I would really like the ending. I remember it got posted, I just forgot to save it. Much love and muffins for anyone who can send it my way.

72 .

>>71
Here's all I have (seven parts, I'm not sure how long the whole thing was):
http://www.mediafire.com/?dka0f5gdyc51vcd

73 .

>>72
Oh thank you so much. I appreciate it.

74 .

Oh derp. That's the part I had. I remember there was a second thread with the ending. Arg, ellusive little thing

75 .

OH SH-T, I should have checked this place first. Thanks for all the reposts guys/gals. This is wonderful.

76 .

>>43

A pet sniper/medic? WANT please!

77 .

I'm looking for that one really hot Scout-Medic-Heavy threesome with a jealousy kink. I forgot the author, but I remember the basic plot was that Medic got jealous of how Heavy was using the cart to heal instead of him, and went to the Scout to get some petty revenge. It was so very hot and in character...

Also, I'm looking for that one where they all went shopping.

78 .

>>77

I have one where the entire team goes grocery shopping, but there's no sex in it at all and you asked about it in afanfic so I don't know if it's what you're talking about.

79 .

I think this is it, Graph.

THE SHAPE OF A BOOMERANG (by Insidiae?)


It had seemed so important at the time.

Thunder Mountain was an invaluable resource that BLU needed to control, no matter what. Somehow, RED had managed to get a hold on it first, as they always did – something Medic couldn’t understand, especially when he was certain that Thunder Mountain had been discovered by BLU’s Engineer while he was looking over his grandfather’s blueprints – and once again, BLU was forced to push their way through the territory, hauling their cart of supplies behind them.

The Administrator was there too, of course, calling the shots and demeaning members of both teams no matter how well they did. Medic had the sneaking suspicion that she knew about Thunder Mountain long before anyone else.

“Mission will begin in thirty seconds.”

Medic stood behind Heavy, building up an Uber. “I am fully charged,” he announced, with 5 seconds left in set up.

Heavy grinned at him as the gates opened, then shot off faster than Medic had ever seen him move. Medic was briefly paralyzed by his surprise, then scrambled to catch up with the large man who was standing next to the cart, slowing crawling up with it.

“Herr Heavy,” he panted, “vhat do you think you are doing?” He raised his medigun to release the Ubercharge, but Heavy pushed it to the side.

“Ne,” he said with a shake of his head. “Don’t, Doktor.”

Medic blinked at him. “Was?”

“I have cart,” Heavy said. He laid a large hand on the metal rim, caressing it almost lovingly. “Is good enough. You should help others.” As if to prove his point, a well-hidden mini-sentry opened fire on them. Medic watched as Heavy gleefully raised Sasha, shattering the mounted gun, while a healing blue stream from the cart closed his wounds.

“Herr Heavy-”

“Leetle man needs help,” Heavy insisted. Sure enough, Medic could hear Scout’s cry of, “Doc! Come on, man!” in the distance.

But that wasn’t the point. The point was that no one was as well-suited as Heavy to be healed by Medic. Soldier and Demoman were good second choices, but they tended to rocket- and sticky-jump to areas Medic couldn’t reach, leaving him stranded. Pyro was okay, but lacked the heavy fire power that really benefited from an Ubercharge. Engineer had his dispenser for all of his healing needs. Sniper never went to the front lines, and thus an Uber would be wasted on him, and he couldn’t heal Spy because that would give away his position.

And Scout… Scout would just wait until was fully healed, before running off again without a care in the world, leaving Medic in his dust.

Medic opened his mouth to voice his objections, but Heavy sent him a look that silenced his protests. "I am fine, Doktor."

"Alright," Medic said, resisting the urge to snarl. "Fine." Fine. He grit his teeth and left Heavy with his precious cart in search of Scout, the ire withing him rising with every step he took. He couldn't explain why exactly Heavy's refusal made him so enraged, only that he needed some outlet to let it loose.

That was then.

Now, however, lying on his back with Scout hovering between his legs, Medic can't help but think that his response may have been somewhat juvenile.

And how exactly did they end up in this position? Medic remembers the slow push of the cart up the mountain, the Administrator's bored sigh of, "Victory," the RED running away, defenseless. He remembers his anger blocking all thought, even the delight of winning, and then there was Scout, whooping with joy, and-

"You sure about this, Doc?"

Medic glares up at Scout, because what the hell kind of question is that when they're both already naked and sprawled on the floor of the former RED base? "Are you having second zhoughts?"

"No!" Scout says quickly. Unable to keep still even now, he runs one hand up and down Medic's thigh, and the older man appreciates the gentle gesture. "It's just, I thought you and lard-face were..."

Medic raises an eyebrow. "Vould it really matter to you if ve vere?"

"Hey man, not cool," Scout murmurs. "I ain't no home-wrecker." As he says this, however, he slides a hand between Medic's legs, nudging a condom-covered finger at the cleft of his ass.

Medic sighs as that finger starts to push in, reveling in the feeling. It's been so long since he's been on the receiving end, since Heavy is always afraid he'll...

At that thought, Medic scowls. "Herr Heavy and I are teammates und comrades und nozhing else. Ve vork vell togezher. Zhat is all."

Scout pauses. He slowly rolls the condom onto a second finger, looking down at Medic pensively. Finally, he says, "Don't bullshit me, Doc. I've heard you two fucking."

"So vhat?" Medic snorts. "Ve are having sex now. Does zhat mean you vant to marry me?"

Scout sighs and pushes both fingers into Medic. He understands the appeal of casual sex well enough, especially given the circumstances. He pushes his fingers against the inner walls of Medic's ass, but jerks to a stop when a smooth hand closes around his own erection. "Whoa- fuck!"

"I am getting impatient," Medic says dryly. His thumb flicks over the tip of Scout's arousal in a way that makes him yowl. "Eizher fuck me or leave."


"J-Jesus fucking-" Scout pulls away, just enough for him to bend backwards - remarkably lithe, the boy is - and reach into his shorts. He grabs another condom from a pocket and discards the one on his fingers, throwing it behind him. "Christ," he murmurs as he rolls it onto his cock, "I was just trying to make it hurt less, ya goddamn fascist."

Medic narrows his eyes and a reaches a hand up, grabbing Scout's jaw between his thumb and forefinger. "Vatch it, trottel," he warns.

They stare at each other like that for a long moment, at an impasse. Finally, Scout says, "Yeah, yeah," and swats away Medic's hand. He grabs one of the German's legs and throws it over his shoulder. "Now, ya might feel a big prick," he says with a grin.

Medic rolls his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, junge," he says, but then Scout is inside him and it doesn't matter.

The doctor hums. Oh, how he's missed this feeling! And while Scout probably overestimates himself, he's still more than adequate for giving Medic that wonderful, filled sensation.

Above him, Scout rises up a bit on his legs and grabs onto to his thighs, thrusting from his hips. Medic raises his ass a little in return, groaning as this new angle finally allows Scout to hit his prostate.

This right here, this is what he's been missing. The white lights bursting behind his eyes on every stroke; the ability to just let go and let someone else do the work for once. Just one time, he'd like Heavy to take control, but the Russian always insists on-

Medic manages to glower, even through his building pleasure. The reason for all of this, he realizes, is jealousy. He's jealous. And of an inanimate object, no less. That gottverdammte cart! He tries to focus on Scout, on the way the boy's mouth feels on his chest, or his hand on Medic's cock, but all the German can hear is Doktor, Docktor-

"Doktor?"

Medic's eyes snap open and he whips his head to the side. In the doorway, with a look of open-mouthed shock on his face, stands Heavy.

"Holy shit!" Scout yells and he tries to reel back, but Medic locks his ankles and squeezes him with his legs, holding him in place. "The flyin' fuck? Lemme go, Doc!" He struggles, but Medic doesn't budge an inch, and the difference in their body types becomes apparent. They're the two fastest members of the team, but while Scout is built lean and aerodynamic, Medic has thickly muscled thighs for short bursts of speed, which now clamp Scout tightly.

"Nein," he says simply, and Scout gapes at him.

Meanwhile, Heavy is still frozen in place, trying to come to terms with what he's seeing. "Doktor, what...?

Medic grins nastily, all teeth and curled lips. "Kleine Mann braucht Hilfe," he tells Heavy, knowing that he'll understand the German. /Little man needs help./ His smile looks like shards of glass as he watches Heavy put two and two together, and the look of betrayal that falls over the Russian's features is so delightful that Medic almost finds himself giggling. Feels bad, doesn't it? Can you feel the schadenfreude? Medic gloats in his personal victory, unable to take his eyes off of Heavy's expression.

Then Scout punches him in the face.

"You lying sack of shit!" he roars. "I tell you not to bullshit me, and what do you fucking do?"

"Doktor!" Heavy cries, an automatic reaction to seeing Medic injured.

"Oh, get a life, fatass. He's fine." Scout drags Medic's head up by his hair and presents it. His nose, broken from Scout's punch, is already beginning to heal thanks to whatever shit Medic jacks himself up with that lets him regenerate. "Teammates and nothing more, my ass," he growls under his breath. To Heavy, he says, "Drop the gun, get in the room, and close the door."

"Wha-"

"I said do it, chucklenuts! Don't make me say it again!"

Medic begins to come out of his daze as Heavy obeys, dropping Sasha with a clang like a cannon and closing the door with a click like the safety of a gun. The noises rattle Medic brain, and he returns to complete awareness only to find Scout tugging on his scalp. "Feiger hund! Verpiss di-!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Scout slams his head back down onto the tile. Another wound to be mended. "You've lost your speaking privileges, pally ."

"Razvedchik?"

Scout sighs and turns his attention back to Heavy. "C'mere, big guy," he says softly, sounding suddenly exhausted. Heavy takes a few slow steps towards him, his eyes drifting downwards to Scout's cock, still balls deep inside Medic. "You understand what's going on, dontcha?"

Heavy's brow furrows as though he's unsure, but he nods.

"Sie Hurensohn," Medic moans, bringing a hand to his bruised head.

"Yeah, fuck you, Doc." Scout clucks his tongue. "You know I didn't know about this, right?" he asks Heavy. "You know I'm just trying to make the best of this shit?"

Heavy smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Da."

Scout's lips twitch. "Alright, alright. Drop trou, fatty."

Medic chokes, coughing and spitting and turning red in the face. "Vhat do you zhink you are d-"

"You must actually think I'm dumb as shit," Scout hisses. "You really think I'm going to let you use me and get away with it? Fuck that." To his side, Heavy is unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly. Medic watches closely in spite of himself, even as Scout says, "I'll tell you what I'm doing. I'm going to keep fucking you, and while I do, I'm also going to suck this big lug off."

Medic's eyes bulge. "But vhy-?"

"/Because/, deutschebag, this is the best thing I can think of to fix /your/ stupid mess. I didn't want to be part of this sort of shit - I told you I ain't no home-wrecker - but you made me a part and now I'm going to make the best of it." He shrugs, and the dog tags hanging around his neck jingle with the movement. "At least this way, I figure, everybody gets something. Real community-like. Ruskie over here should love it."

Heavy harrumphs and pushes down his pants and underwear.

"And when all of this is over, we're going to forget it ever happened and move on."

Medic snarls. "Und you zhink I vill go along vith all zhis because vhy?"

"Because, chucklenuts," Scout says, "you're still hard," and he reaches a hand to the base of Medic's erection and drags it up, the athletic tape grazing against the vein on its journey. Medic howls and Scout leans down to swallow the sound with his mouth, then brings it back to nip at Medic's chin. Mouth attached firmly to Medic's throat, he starts to thrust again.

Medic tries to say something, but can't find the breath to form the words. Scout keeps ramming his prostate now, and as angry as Medic is at the whole situation, he also really, really wants to come. He can get his revenge on the little /rotzbengel/ later, and plans to do just that - just as soon as he sates the burning hunger he's drowning in.

Satisfied that Medic is no longer truly protesting the turn of events, Scout allows himself to fall into an easy rhythm. Losing himself in the pace, he motions with one hand for Heavy to come closer, and turns his head to the side to take him into his mouth.

Too big to fully swallow, Scout instead licks a long line from the underside of Heavy's cock, then swirls his tongue around the head. His thrusts into Medic slow somewhat as he divides his attentions between two tasks. One of Heavy's large hands settles on his head, firm but gentle, helping him keep the rhythm.

Medic makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whine of dissatisfaction. Grinning around the head of Heavy's erection, Scout reaches down half-blindly to dig his fingers into Medic's pelvis and snaps his hips forward. Medic groans again, this time sounding much more pleased.

While Scout concentrates on Medic, Heavy trails his free hand down to tug at himself, gripping the parts that Scout's mouth can't reach. When Scout finally focuses back on the Russian, he finds the large man jerking himself quickly, and follows the movement with hungry eyes. His tongue darts to lick at the seam beneath Heavy's foreskin, and when Heavy rumbles like thunder from the back of his throat, Scout repeats the action.

Heavy rewards Scout by leaning forward, curling over his head, and reaching a single, thick finger down, between the globes of Scout's ass and into him. Scout pulls away from Heavy's cock, lets out a yelp, and comes immediately at the intrusion, spilling into the condom - into Medic.

When the white clears from his vision, he tries to roll away, but Medic digs his heels into his thighs, pulling him even closer. Scout risks a look at his face. Medic's expression looks like it couldn't choose between fury and arousal, so eventually it settled on a mix of both. Hoping to wipe the scowl of his face, Scout stretches his hand between them and grips Medic. He glances back up to see if Medic seems happier, but frowns at what he encounters.

Medic isn't looking at him. Medic is staring straight at Heavy, and Heavy is staring straight back at him. It's as though Scout doesn't even exist. Determined not to be forgotten, Scout tries every trick he knows - tightening and loosening his fist as goes, twisting at the base, fondling Medic's balls, but ultimately, it is Heavy who holds the key to Medic release.

"Doktor," he whispers, almost inaudibly, and Medic comes right there and then, all over Scout's hand.

Heavy follows a second later, long spurts of semen falling onto Scout's hair and face. The boy sputters and reels away, this time successfully removing himself from Medic's grip. He reaches for his discarded shirt and starts wiping himself off as the other two come down from their orgasmic haze.

"Well, that was fun an' all," he says as he pulls his socks on, "but next time you queens fight, do me a fava' and fuckin' work it our yourselves." He snaps the button at the top of his trousers and pulls up his fly.

Heavy grabs the shirt from him and rubs at his ear. "You miss spot," he says by way of explanation.

Scout grimaces and snatches his shirt back, making sure he's completely clean this time. The last thing he needs is for Demoman or Spy to find him with come in his hair. He pulls the shirt down and examines the now thoroughly-ruined piece of clothing with a wince. "Aw, wicked gross, man." He stuffs it in a garbage can by the door, along with the used condom, but then decides to take the bag with him. With any luck, he'll be able to get Pyro to just burn it all.

For a moment, there's this terrible, awkward silence. Then Scout shrugs his shoulders, cocks his head to the side, and says, "Well, see you fairies later," making a hasty exist.

Heavy watches him go, then turns to Medic. The healer is rolling onto his side, fingernails digging into the tiled floor beneath him. There's a murderous glint in his eyes that Heavy knows all too well. "Doktor?"

Medic snaps his seething gaze over to him. "Vhat. Is it. Herr. Heavy."

Heavy cows a bit in the face of Medic's rage, but steels his resolve. "Let it go."

Medic resists the urge to scream, but just barely. There's a million things he wants to say - petty insults, horrible curses, even an apology.

"Doktor, pozhaluĭsta."

A million things.

"Doktor?"

Medic chooses to say none of them.

And his silence speaks loudly enough.

80 .

>>79 THANK YOU SO MUCH. I offer you my e-babies.

>>78 And yeah, that's the one I'm looking for. I'm sorry about asking for that here; I'm relatively new to the Chan. I only found it about a week before it crashed and I'm still figuring out how everything works. I'll just...slink over to the fanfic-requests.

81 .

I'd like to get a repost of that delicious fic where Spy prostate-milks fingers Scout and asks something along the lines of, "Do you like zis, petit?"

82 .

>>81 Are these the droids you're looking for? And if not, uh, well, this is certainly similar.
-------
"Do you like zhat?"

Scout groaned in response, pushing himself back against the fingers that were invading him. He was on his stomach - not even sure how he'd ended up like this, but here he was - legs sprawled open to let...to let things happen. It wasn't good to examine closely what was going on, he might start thinking about what the hell he was doing and he'd only just recently managed to stop doing that, for the most part. Don't think, just let it happen because it feels so fucking good. There's this spot inside him that he never even knew was there, never even /dreamed/ was there, but hit it just right and suddenly he's seeing stars in the best possible way. Like right now. So not only was the question one he didn't want to answer, it was a fucking stupid question to boot.

"Did you 'ear- "

"I heard you!" The words were a breathless snarl as Scout shifted and squirmed on the bed. He was propped up on his elbows, leaning heavily on them as he tried to keep some small semblance of self control. That was pretty fucking laughable for a Scout but if he didn't do it, he'd end up humping the mattress and screaming the most embarrassing things. As it was his legs were trembling with the effort of restrained movement, hips rocking back and forth with each thrust of the fingers in him. "An' fuck you!"

"I'm being serious, darling. It's really very important to know. Do you like zis or not?" The question came accompanied by a little curl of the Spy's fingers that left Scout feeling like he'd melted from the waist down. The sensation was so intensely overwhelming that he had to pull away a little bit, curling forward with his arms clutched in close to his chest and his head hanging low as he panted out shaky breaths into the mattress. Did he like this? What kind of a question was that?

"Yeah, I fucking like this! Okay? So shut th' fuck up!"

The only response he got was a soft little chuckle, but that was enough for him to pull his head up and glare at the Spy. He was just fast enough to catch sight of the Spy's absolutely devilish grin. So fucking smug and pleased with himself. Fucking asshole.

"I'm not laughing at you, just at 'ow angry you get." Spy leaned in close, nuzzling up to Scout's cheek. Scout could feel the man's breath ghosting along the line of his neck, cool against the thin layer of sweat that covered him. When he stopped to think about it, it felt like Scout had run a mile, when all he'd done was sit here and let...and let the Spy finger-fuck him, basically. "I'm glad you like it," continued Spy, the words punctuated with a soft kiss on the curve of Scout's jaw. "Because I like to make you feel good. I'd do this all the time if you let me..."

All Scout could do was whimper in response. As Spy talked, he kept moving his hand, slow and steady now, so that Scout was left on the brink of climax, his whole body hot and trembling. He felt dizzy with need and though he knew the Spy was talking still, he couldn't hear a word of it. He was lost in his own little world, utterly overwhelmed and aching for release. The last of his self-control, so precious and so tightly held, was slipping away now.

Another thrust of the Spy's fingers and he was moaning into the sheets in between each gasping breath.

A curl of Spy's fingers, their tips pressing briefly against that one spot, and Scout's moans were almost screams. Spy lingered there for a moment, two fingers gently massaging that spot in Scout that had no right to be there. It wasn't fair to have this thing in him that made him feel like this, that made him want to do these things.

Again Spy's finger's pulled away and thrust into him, faster now. Again, and again after that, faster and faster, sensation building on sensation until Scout simply could not take it any more. He was babbling something - variations on "Oh god" over and over again - as he clutched at the sheets beneath him, his hips grinding helplessly into the mattress.

"Just let it out." Spy's voice was soft as velvet, purred into Scout's ear. He could hear the tension in it, the slight, breathy eagerness, and realized that Spy was getting off on this. Getting off on watching him writhe on the bed and absolutely lose his mind and somehow knowing that was incredibly hot. One tiny little shift of Spy's fingers and that was it, Scout was done. He came with a strangled cry, his whole body taut and shaking for one glorious second. It passed in an instant and his body went slack, leaving him sprawled, exhausted, on the bed. His heart was pounding in his chest and his legs were trembling still as he lay there and tried to catch his breath.

83 .

Does anybody have the fic based on one of Syberfox's pictures in which Medic, Spy, and Sniper are fucking each other at the same time? I THINK it was called, "Support Class", but I can't be too sure. If you got it, post it here, please!

84 .

>>82
Thank you so, so, so much!

85 .

i remeber a story involving demo,engie and drag!sniper.
i think it was by marty

86 .

>>85
This old thing? It's called:
------------------------------------------------
SNIPER WHORE

“Oh, bloody Hell,” the Sniper panted. “Oh, oh please-” His wrists were tied to his ankles, forcing him to keep his legs spread wide as he knelt on the standard-issue cot. The brunette wig was improbably still on his head, though the bra straps had slid down over his shoulders and the stockings were slipping down his thighs in the absence of a garter belt. He wasn’t aware of any of that, though. In his drunken, dizzy state, the only thing that seemed to matter was his erection, which was straining against the confines of silky panties.

“For a wombat, he makes a lovely lady,” said the teammate who’d supplied the women’s clothing

“Maybe this game’s gone a bit too far-” said the one who’d tied the knots, his face red with alcohol and shame.

“Please-” the Sniper repeated, tugging at the ropes.

“You want us to untie you?” The second man moved forward, ready to dismantle his handiwork.

“No,” the Sniper lifted his face to his captors. “Truckie, Demo, I want you to fuck me.”

The Engineer stopped in his tracks, but the Demoman stepped forward. “Ooh, yer a cheeky little strumpet, you are. I lay claim to his arse, you can ha’ his hoor mouth, boyo.”

“I’ve never-” the Engineer’s jaw dropped.

“Ye’ve never had a blow job, ‘ave ye?” The Demoman smiled broadly. “Tha’s all right, oor little tart has given ‘em before, haven’t ye?” He patted the Sniper’s cheek condescendingly.

“... yeah,” admitted the Australian, his shame only arousing him further.

“This ain’t right,” the Engineer protested, trying ineffectually to conceal his erection with his hands.

“Aye, but oor little dolly likes it all wrong.” The Scot stroked the Australian’s shoulders like a pimp showing off his wares. “Goo on, then, tell the man how you like it.”

“Hard,” the Sniper panted. “I like it hard an’ fast.”

“Oh, you dirty girl,” the Demoman purred, and popped his finger into the gunman’s mouth, and leered at the Engineer. “Where else are ye goin’ tae get an offer like that, a hundred miles from any female but that bloody harpy of an Administrator?”

“You want this, Sniper?” the Engineer looked worriedly down at his teammate.

“Mmh.” The Sniper’s cheeks hollowed as he moaned his approval around the Demoman’s finger. “Why else d’ya think I was willin’ to play at bein’ a sheila?”

“Tha’s hardly a ringin’ endorsement!” the Demoman withdrew his hand and struck the Sniper on the cheek. “Pour out yer soul, slut.” He pushed the Sniper over onto his back.

“So bad,” the Sniper panted. “I want it so bad. Up alone in my nest while the battle’s in close, out in my van at night, all I can think of is how bad I want to suck cock.”

“But it’s... dirty.” The Engineer’s voice was hoarse as he raised a token objection.

“‘S why I like it,” the Sniper murmured darkly.

For a moment, the Engineer couldn’t do more than bite his lip and breathe through his nose. For his part, the Demoman dug in his footlocker for the jar of vaseline that was the lonely mercenary’s friend.

“D’ye ken what I’m going tae do tae ye, lad?”

“Fuck me,” the Sniper moaned.

“I’ll do more than just fook ye, lad. I’m goin’ tae give ye the deepest, most brutal rogerin’ a fannybawws like ye has ever had in his whole bloody life.”

“God, please.” The Sniper writhed, pulling against the ropes.

The Demoman yanked on the Sniper’s legs, hauling the lanky man to position himself between his knees. Unzipping his fly, the Scot showed off his cock. “Ye see that? Tha’s a blue-ribbon black pudding, an’ I’m goin’ tae shove it up ye ‘til ye scream... but only if ye ask, oh pretty please.”

“Please, Demo, I’m begging, fuck me. Make it hurt, use me any way you want, just fuck me.”

“That’s the way.” The Demoman pulled the silky panties to one side and began sliding a greasy finger into the Australian’s ass. He looked over at the Texan, who was standing as if hypnotised, staring at the dressed up, trussed up Sniper. “Come on, Truckie, do yer bit. Fuck him in his hoor mouth.”

Moving deliberately, the Engineer kicked off his boots and overalls, and straddled the Sniper’s shoulders. “I can’t do this,” he murmured.

“Truckie!” the Demoman roared. “Dinnae be such a big girl’s blouse! This man needs a shag, an’ we’re goin’ tae shag him!”

“No, I mean,” the Engineer untied the knot that bound the Sniper’s left wrist to his ankle, “I need his hands up over his head so’s I can saddle up.”

“Fair enough, then!” The Scot kept fingering the Sniper while the Engineer lashed his wrists to the head of the cot and tethered his ankles to the rails. “Aren’t ye a picture,” the Demoman leered down at the Australian.

Auburn wig cascading framing his face, no glasses to obscure his blue eyes, long limbs spread, panting with desire, the Sniper smiled. “I know.” His tongue flicked over his pointed canines. “Come an’ get it, lads.”

This time, the Engineer didn’t waste a moment in straddling the Sniper’s chest, but paused as he took his cock out of his boxers. “You sure you want this, Slim?”

“God, yes.” The Sniper opened his mouth, delicately covering his bottom teeth with his tongue, inviting the Engineer in.

The Texan took a deep breath and pressed the head of his cock against the Sniper’s tongue. He let the breath out as a moan, and thrust into his teammate’s mouth. The Sniper moaned in turn, the vibrations tingling up around the Engineer’s cock.

“Aye, tha’s the way...” the Demoman leaned forward over the Sniper’s long body. “Brace yerself, totty.” He pushed in in one blissful thrust, heedless of the way the Sniper screamed around the Engineer’s cock. “Take it, “ he growled.

The Sniper responded by lifting his knees to the extent of the tethers and moaning with abandon. “God, yeah-” he gasped as the Engineer pulled out of his mouth for a moment. He tongued the slit of the Engineer’s cock, groaning at the loss of contact.

The Engineer moved to brace his hands on the wall. By now, he was more drunk with sensation than he’d ever been with alcohol. He shoved down the Sniper’s throat, unaware of the skill the Australian was using to take him.

The Demoman did notice, though. “You dirty tramp,” he smiled. “How long did ye have to practise that?” He was rewarded by a twitch of the Sniper’s cock, a tightening of the muscles deep inside the other man’s body. “Auh, aye- ye’re well enjoying yerself, aren’t ye?” He scooped some more vaseline out of the jar and stroked it onto the Sniper’s cock.

Arching his back to use what little leverage he had, the Sniper pressed his ass against the Demoman’s hips and moaned around the Engineer’s cock again.

That was all it took for the Engineer. Hiding his face in the crook of his elbow, the Texan tried to stifle a howl as he came. He collapsed against the wall, gasping and all but boneless after his orgasm, whimpering slightly as the Sniper lapped at him to swallow the last of his semen.

Roaring with delighted laughter, the Demoman thrust deep into the Sniper’s ass. He had a stranglehold on the Australian’s cock and balls, preventing him from reaching orgasm. “I’m goin’ tae fill yer guts with me jism,” he growled down at his captive. “Ye’ll be drippin like a strumpet for a week. IS THAT WHAT YE WANT, YE HOOR?”

“Yes- yes- please- please-” the Sniper panted, writhing on the Demoman’s cock. “Please, Demo, let me come- oh-”

In the moment of his own orgasm, the Scot unclenched his hand and stroked the Sniper’s cock, bringing the Australian to a screaming climax. They shuddered and thrashed against each other, though the Sniper was pinned by the Engineer sitting back on his chest. That only seemed to amplify the Sniper’s pleasure, as his screamed again.

“Ooh,” the Demoman sighed, pulling out of the Sniper’s ass. “Tha’ was quite the ride, wombat.”

“A certified rodeo,” the Engineer smiled as he untied the ropes holding the Sniper down.

“You’re both welcome to have another, any time,” the Sniper said, pulling his partners down to lie on the narrow cot with him.

87 .

"but only if ye ask, oh pretty please."
should not be this hot of a line

88 .

I have a story saved called 'Could you look at this' in which Scout ties Medic up and has his dirty way without Medic's consent. Then Spy comes into the picture and it becomes this epic threesome. However the thread ran out at the point where Spy pulls out a mysterious box. Does anyone have the second part to this if it exists? Vat vas in that box?

89 .

The second part exists SOMEWHERE, I am sure of it. I've found the archive of the original post, and the link to the second thread (which, of course, does no good, but if someone's a techno-wiz and can make it work somehow, here, go nuts: http://www.tf2chan.net/afanfic/res/4933.html), but not much else I can find right now. Will keep looking in my files. Maybe it's hiding in there somewhere.

90 .

>>89
http://shankie.dreamwidth.org/177580.html?#cutid1
found it?

91 .

>>90
That was delicious.

92 .

Does anyone have that hilarious fic where the entire team "milk" a tentaspy?

93 .

I'm looking for a very creepy fic about a spider-monster Medic feeding a Spy to a caterpillar/worm thing-monster Heavy. I do not know the title or who wrote it, sadly.

If it's been reposted already, please forgive me, I'm a bit blind.

94 .

>>93

It's called Spiderhoovy by TeratoMarty. I don't know if it's been reposted already, but I checked Marty's thread and it wasn't there, so here you go:

Something odd was happening on the RED base, the BLU Spy was willing to concede that much. Neither their Medic nor their Heavy had been seen for a week, and there didn't seem to be any replacements, unlike the Engineer, who had disappeared about the same time, to be replaced in short order. Moreover, the Demoman reported seeing a massive spider, the size of a man, scuttling around the ceilings of the enemy base. Then again, who knew what the scrumpy might make him see. After all, he'd also reported seeing a giant octopus with Spy's own face in the sewers. He said it hadn't bothered him, since it was on their side.

However, the Sniper was both in possession of both eyeballs and usually sober, and he, too, had reported seeing something strange on the battlements across the way. He did not make any fevered claims about giant spiders. Instead, he gave a factual if puzzling report of something round, white, perhaps as much as a metre wide, that moved to quickly to get a bead on. A balloon? Not possible, mate. Anything that light, subject to that much wind resistance, would have bobbed about like a cork in a stream. This, whatever it was, moved quickly in purposeful straight lines.

The Spy made a mental note to find out about the RED's... whatever-it-was, at the earliest opportunity. However, when the Demoman didn't show up for the next battle, it became clear that no-one had seen him since at least mid-day, the day before. He hadn't come through Respawn, and his stash of scrumpy was untouched. Consulting quickly with his team during the count-down, the Spy made a slight alteration to his own battle plan. He would disable the RED sentry, kill their Engineer and Sniper, then go looking for the Demoman and any mysterious round, white weapons.

The REDs had a new Engineer, a baby-faced boy fresh off the farm- it was almost pathetic how easy it was to break his toys and send him home to mama. The Sniper, however, was a cagy old beast. He had wedged himself into a corner where the Spy couldn't get behind him for a decent backstab. Instead, the espionage agent retreated down the hall, out of earshot, and disguised himself as the RED Pyro. Mimicking the mumbling abomination's shuffling tread, he approached the Sniper again.

"Fpy chkk," he muttered.

The Sniper didn't move from the eyepiece of his scope, but he did flare his nostrils and inhale deeply. Instantly, faster than the Spy had thought the Australian could move, he had his kukri out and was slashing perilously close to the Spy's face, in the air above where the illusory Pyro's head appeared.

The Spy blocked the blow, sustaining a painful chop of the cleaver-like weapon on his left forearm. However, that bought him the time he needed to draw the Ambassador as his useless disguise dissolved. The large-calibre pistol settled the matter, removing the Sniper's face as its mighty report rang out.

Cloaking again as quickly as possible, the Spy clutched his wounded arm to his chest and left the Sniper's corpse behind in the little bolt-hole. He hoped that he could find a med-pack soon. As he stepped out into the hallway, though, he saw a flash of something white moving up in the rafters.

Clamping his handkerchief on the wound with his free hand, he followed whatever-it-was. Treading silently, he stared all around him. He rounded a corner and saw nothing, but felt something sticky brushed his face. Even as he flicked away the adhesive strand, he looked up to see what it might be, and froze in his tracks.

The BLU Sniper had been right- it was round, white, just about a metre across. However, the Demoman had not been wrong- it scuttled across the ceiling on arachnoid legs, black, jointed, smooth as plastic except for the stiff black hairs protruding from the backs of them. However, what neither of them had mentioned was the RED Medic's body, protruding from the spider body at the waist, clad in his usual Teutonically formal shirt and tie. Biting his tongue forcefully, the Spy withheld a gasp of disgust. He was glad to be invisible.

Glad, that is, until the thing launched itself from the ceiling and dropped on him with unerring accuracy. It pinned him to the ground with eight spindly, pincer-tipped legs, its immense abdomen hanging over his face like a diseased moon. At this intimate angle, the Spy could see that the white body was composed of chitinous segments with a yellowish membrane stretched taut between them, like the skin over a pustule. There was a marking in the centre of the underside, he noticed as the monster turned to face him, in the shape of a perfect red cross.

"Guten tag, Herr Spy," it said to him as his cloak dissolved. "Sight is such a limited sense, don't you think?"

"Quoi-" the BLU gagged.

"Splendid, am I not? Respawn is an amazingly flexible system, as our... former... Engineer discovered."

"You intend to weaponise being a freak?" The Spy subtly flexed his muscles, looking for a point of leverage to escape from the strong, spindly legs. There was none.

"I already have," the Medic-spider said haughtily. "You, though, are about to become a small part of a much greater weapon."

Abandoning his careful test of the monster's strength, the Spy began struggling in earnest.

"Zis will only sting for a moment," the Medic-monster said, cheeks rippling and stretching as insectile mandibles slid out of his mouth between his teeth and lips.

The Spy screamed as the Medic's face approached his own. The Medic's gloved human hands shoved his head to the side, pulled away his coat, and the Spy felt a sting as the thing's mandibles pierced both shirt and skin on his shoulder. Almost immediately, a burning-cold numbness began to radiate out from the wound.

The Spy screamed again, but the sound was strangled, sloppy. He tried to kick out as the monster walked about on top of him, but he could barely do more than wiggle his toes. He was treated to an up-close view of the thing's spinnerets, writhing obscenely as they began to extrude silk. Using hands and spider legs in tandem, it wrapped him up like a parcel. Once he was done, he used his spider limbs to heave the Spy over his human shoulder and scuttled off down the corridor.

The Spy tried to think, but couldn't concentrate over the pounding f his heart in his ears. His tongue felt overlarge, filling his mouth, and he couldn't feel any of the rest of his body at all. His eyelids seemed to be the only part of his body that still responded to his will. He kept his eyes open, hoping to see something, anything that he could use to his advantage. All he could see was the Medic-spider's swollen, pallid body.

"Hallo, Lieber," the Medic cooed, halting as he opened a door. "Are you hungry?"

"Da." The RED Heavy's voice rumbled, somehow thicker than usual. The monster Medic dropped the Spy to the floor. He landed awkwardly, staring at the ceiling. By rolling his eyes to the side as they could go, he was able to see the RED Heavy. What had been the RED Heavy.

Glistening folds of flabby white tissue stretched at least twelve feet long. The Heavy's head sat atop the heap, his neck merging corpulently with his shoulders. His massive arms were still in place, along with his saggy pectoral muscles, but underneath the arms were four stick-thin legs that waggled aimlessly, and his gut merged into a segmented, pulpy tail. The Spy discovered that he could still feel his stomach when it cramped- he had to suppress the urge to vomit.

The giant maggot that the Heavy had become had been sucking on something held in its human hand- the Spy had taken it for a brown leather sack of some sort. Then, the Heavy dropped the thing to the floor, and the Spy realised that the lone eye of his own team's Demoman staring out of the mess. It stared at him crazily, then blinked, causing a tear to roll down the Scot's ruined face. Some dark fluid, flecked with white, oozed out of the wound that the Heavy had been sucking.

"Isn't he vonderful?" the Medic crooned to the Spy as he used a scalpel to slice away the silk bindings. "I believe he is aobut to pupate, and he vill need to be strong for zis ordeal." The Medic beamed over at the grubworm monstrosity. "Zat is vhere you come in."

The Spy managed an inchoate noise, which the Medic accepted as a request for further lecturing.

"My venom paralyzes ze prey, slowly dissolving ze muscle und ze bone. Ze organs und ze brain are last to go, keeping ze meal alive, fresh und, incidentally, out of the Respawn. Since it has been more than 24 hours, the Respawn system may have already saved Herr Demoman's condition as his default state. It vill be interesting to see." Bending down, the Medic jabbed his scalpel down through the Demoman's panicked eye, then waited until the Respawn system dissolved the corpse. "Zat, of course, is just scientific curiosity. Ve have work to do." The Medic-spider turned back to the grubworm. "Komm, Liebling, I love to watch you eat."

Exercising the last option open to him, the Spy shut his eyes.

95 .

>>92

That was by Marty; I think it was called "The Milk". I don't have it, sadly. Anyone else?

96 .

>>94

I wrote that? Really? Jeez, what'd I been drinking?

Anyhow, here's the one you found hilarious:
------------------------------------------------------
THE MILK

“Aw man, we’re outta milk,” the Scout whined, upending the carton over his breakfast cereal. A few pathetic drops plopped onto the dry flakes.

“I believe I haf a solution,” the Medic said from across the kitchen counter. “Herr Spy, come here.”

“Non.” A voice echoed up from the drain in the kitchen’s tiled floor.

“What’s that freak gonna do about us being outta milk?” The Scout frowned. “No offence, Spyfag.”

“None taken.” The four-inch metal grating popped off of the drain, and something blue began to squeeze up through. Moving in pulsatile waves, like a balloon slowly being filled with jelly, the Spy’s head emerged from the sewer. It was followed by his shoulders, extruding from the narrow drain, and then by the French man’s arms, which brushed slime and creases from the previously impeccable blue suit coat. Finally, a thick sheaf of tentacles slithered out of the drain, slapping wetly against the floor as the Spy heaved himself into a semblance of an upright stance. The rest of the team, assembled for breakfast, tried not to stare. “Keep your ‘ands to yourself, Docteur.”

“So, what, you have some spooky Spy way to get more milk?” The Scout looked quizzically at the former man. “Maybe steal it from the RED base?”

“I do not see why you think I would, even if I could.” The Spy raised his chin, but it quickly sank again. “Mon dieur, ‘as anyone got a cigarette? Being some ‘orrible octopus is not easy.”

“Smoking is terrible for your health,” the Medic smirked, then procured a pack of cancer sticks from inside his coat. “But you can have one if you allow me to demonstrate your milk capacity.”

The Spy compressed his lips sharply, but could not tear his gaze from the packet of sweet, sweet nicotine. His hands, now with short sharp claws poking out of the tips of his gloves, were shaking.

“Merde! Fine!” He grabbed at the smokes and jammed one into his mouth, momentarily revealing pointed, interlocking teeth. “For ze love of god, give me a light.”

The Medic cupped the Spy’s hands possessively as he lit the cigarette. “Sit down, Herr Spy, if you vould be so good.”

The Spy did not so much sit at the table as wrap himself around a chair. In the bliss of his first smoke of the day, the Spy didn’t seem to care that the Medic seized one of his tentacles and held it aloft.

“Zo,” the Medic said, preparing to lecture his team. “In ze first days after ze teleporter-respawn-tomato-sandwich incident, before Herr Spy gained full control of his new limbs, I observed zat ze tentacles vould sporadically secrete a vhite liquid from ze tips. I analyzed ze substance, und found it similar in composition to mammalian milk, only vith more protein und less fat. Ze perfect nutrition, in ozzer vords, for ze fighting man!” Gripping the Spy’s tentacle, the Medic began to wring it out over the Scout’s cereal bowl.

“Hey!” the Scout yelped, gaping at the bulging appendage above his breakfast.

“Ow!” the Spy objected as well.

“Aw, Hell naw,” the Engineer said, standing up to approach the sorry scene. “Doc, I respect you as a man of Science, but you musta never milked anything before in your life.” He grasped a tentacle and gave a firm, gentle downward squeeze over his coffee cup.

“Oh,” the Spy said quietly.

“What, like this?” The Scout seized a tentacle and yanked it toward an empty bowl.

“Agh!” The Spy’s claws dug into the table.

“No, boy, an’ if he was a cow he’d’a kicked ya. Like this.” The Engineer repositioned the Scout’s hands and guided him through a few strokes.

“Ah-” the Spy began, but the Heavy broke in.

“You do it this way, use more elbow.” He took a tentacle in his huge, warm hands to demonstrate. The Medic watched, fascinated, and copied his large friend. “In Russia, on collective farm, I milk hundred cow a day.”

“Tha’s yer problem,” the Demoman opined. “Ye do it like a factory, no care, no tenderness for the puir coo.” He picked up a tentacle and slicked it tenderly. Holding his breath, the Spy sat quite still.

“You are all WEAK!” the Soldier thundered. “The action of a man is bold! Sun Tzu said that!” He twisted a tentacle roughly.

“Ooh-” the Spy moaned.

“Shut it, crouton. You will sacrifice your individual milk for the good of the team!” He pinched a sucker firmly.

“Oui-” the word was barely a whisper.

“I’ve milked a sheep, and I’ve milked a water buffalo, but I never did milk a Spy.” The Sniper set down his coffee cup and gingerly twiddled the end of one tentacle over it.

“Gentlemen-” the Spy began, in a slightly panicked tone, but he could not continue as his tentacles twitched and pulsed in the rhythm of his teammates’ caresses.

Not wanting to be left out, the Pyro shuffled forward. The Spy gasped, “Non!” but the mumbling abomination wrapped his rubber-gloved hands around the last remaining tentacle and tugged the full length of the muscular appendage.

“Ngh-” the TentaSpy’s eyes were wide in his flushed face.

“Hey, I think it’s comin’,” the Engineer remarked as a bead of white appeared at the underside of the tip of the tentacle he was working on. The entire team sped up, trying to be the first to get milk.

“Non- non! OUI! Mais oui! MON DIEU!” the Spy cried out. He shuddered, bucking uncontrollably as thick, creamy spurts of fluid erupted from every tentacle.

“Hey, it IS milk!” the Scout cheered as the white ooze filled his cereal bowl.

“Auh- please- no more-” the Spy begged as he slid off the chair, utterly spent.

Ignoring him, the Scout shovelled a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. He chewed once, then spat the mush away. “Gah! It tastes like cigarette cheese made in a sewer! That ain’t milk at ALL!”

“I think I coulda told you that.” The Engineer stared down at the sweaty, sated Spy.

“May I have anozzer cigarette?” the TentaSpy sighed from the floor.

97 .

>>96
Barp! So delightfully sick. I laughed my ass off at “In Russia, on collective farm, I milk hundred cow a day.” . Good stuff, good stuff.

98 .

>>96
Many thanks, Marty. A great fic, as always.

99 .

Okay, someone HAS to have TARGET SIGHTED.

Like...all of it.

PLEEEEAAAAASE you will make my xmas if any of you do.

100 .

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=YF75Z0S7

I put together a good portion of the fanfics from before the crash onto here, hopefully someone will find what they're looking for here.

101 .

I heard of a fic and liked some art I saw from it, but I can't find the fic now since the Chan reboot. It was called "Prisoner of War" or just P.O.W. , and was about a RED Medic who was trapped in the BLU base, and he was generally abused by the BLU team in different situations. Anyone have it?

102 .

>>94

Marty, if you're reading this, I have a question about your Spiderhoovy story:

What kind of insect-human would Heavy have become after he pupated? I kind of thought maybe a beetle of some sort, but I'm not too sure.

Either way, it was awesome and a great read. It was genuinely creepy and I loved it.

103 .

>>101
Seconded, I thought I had it but it wasn't in the archives or anything.

104 .

>>4

>>99

I second these people.

Someone has to have this fic. Please. I have been looking for it so much.

105 .

I found chapter one of "target sighted" online. Don't have the other chapters though. Also have no idea who wrote it. I think they had themselves as "scout"

------------------

Request: write and post a super sexy story of sniper totally topping spy - spy has to be SUPER UKE, and it has to actually be sniper, not a spy disguised as sniper



ok

ok so like

so one time sniper who is really MANRY AND BADASS AND DOMINANT or whatever with lots of chest hairs and stuff it's like somebody skinned a black sheep and stapled it to his chest ok, he's that manry, but anyway, sniper decides that he's horny. and i mean that's how badass and manry and toppy he's supposed to be, he doesnt even GET horny he just DECIDES THAT HE IS or he WILL BE and then OH SHIT all your asses better watch out cause o fuck it's SNIPER and he's HORNY that means its like Rapetime with a capital R or whatever goes for R in australia, maybe it's like A or somethin

but anyway so sniper DECIDES that hes horny and being the HUNTER or whatever he is, he goes looking for some delicious... ass I guess, there are no girls or animals around or anything so I guess he's stuck with his third option BUT ANYWAY so SNIPER IS ALL PROWLING AND STALKING or ... ok no that's more spy's thing, maybe he's just sittin there and peeing into a jar or something BUT ANYWAY so along comes Spy for some reason, maybe he's drawn like a moth to sniper's MANRY PHEROMONES OF MANRY MANRINESS which smell like i dont fucking know, something really manry like locker rooms and dicks and koalas

BUT ANYWAY along comes spy and sniper is all OH SHIT TARGET SIGHTED or uuuh... wot wot g'day spy mate or whatever and DIVES OUT OF HIS FREAKIN LIKE 100 FOOT TOWER RIGHT ON TOP OF HIM like you don't even know and somehow he makes a perfect landing on spy and his dick TEARS THROUGH SPY'S PANTS and goes RIGHT IN SPY'S ASS, its like the freakin olympics of assdiving here, and he starts humping spy's ass like there's no tomorrow for him to hump anything else in and he's making all these weird noises all EENF EENF or whatever except wait no that's kinda too girly how about like UNGH UNGH or i dont even freakin know how do you describe sex sounds without making them sound like theyve been constipated for weeks

BUT ANYWAY so sniper is getting all rape on spy and spy is turning all red and starting to cry through his mask all eeengh stop stop and he even says some weird shit in japanese like ya-me-te-i-tai or whatever, that guy knows way too many freakin languages, but he's totally got a boner from it too and he's totally LIKING it cause i mean why would he have a boner if he didnt like it and anyway sniper's still humping him and spy's all whining and crying and this goes on for another like ten minutes or HOURS or something god

and then all of a sudden spy is all AHHHNNNN or something and then all this white marshmallowy stuff EXPLODES THROUGH HIS PANTS and sniper is all AHNNNN too and then all this OTHER white marshmallowy stuff EXPLODES OUT OF SPY'S ASS and spy goes like FLYIN seriously he just FLIES FORWARD FIFTY FEET and lands on his face and hes just frekain OUT COLD, man, with his ass in the air and this GIANT HOLE IN HIS PANTS where sniper's freakin raped him and sniper's looking all smug and satisfied like he's not all covered in come and poop and blood and whatever and just climbs back into his sniper nest to shoot some peeps or pee some mroe or whatever he does

and that's the end

no really

i swear i saw this happen

but anyway the point is sniper and spy are totally fags and that's why you hot chicks should sleep with me instead

- SCOUT

106 .

>>105

Why am I laughing so hard? That was totally stupid! (My brain betrays me.)

107 .

>>105

because it's gold. That fic was gold, and i can ONLY find chapter 1. There are 6 installments that i know of.

108 .

>>105
aaah! that scout never came back even after all the oreos and virgins we offered!

109 .

ya-me-te-i-tai
PFFFF.

110 .

>>105
>>19

I have this saved, but some other anon promised to post it, and I hate reposting, and have this vague hope they'll come back anyway

>>33
oh, and I found http://www.megaupload.com/?d=CZCORL3B

111 .

I'm looking for a fic. It was Engie/Sniper and took place in Coldfront. Not sure who wrote it, but it was rather sweet and I'm hoping someone can repost it for me.

112 .

>>111

That's already been reposted, if I'm not mistaken. It's called In from the Cold, by TeratoMarty, and it's in his thread of Old Stuff here: http://tf2chan.net/afanfic/res/155.html. There was Wat art to go with it, too, but I dunno if that's still up.

I am sorry if I have misled you and this isn't actually the fic you're looking for, but as Engy/Sniper's pretty rare that's got my bet.

113 .

>>112
That's the one! I didn't realise it was a Marty fic. Thank you so much, Anon.

114 .

Hey, hey.

Does anyone have "Nude Fortress"?
The one where the REDs wakes up to find that all their clothes are missing, but they decide to fight anyway... naked?

I loved it. Never laughed so hard in my life.

115 .

>>114

By TeratoMarty:

---------------------------------------

Mornings on the BLU base of 2Fort followed a pattern. Not a nice pattern, but at least it was regular. The Scout and the Soldier got up before everyone else for a vigorous jog, then woke the rest of the team by hammering on the metal doors to the bunkrooms with shovel and bat. The Pyro had claimed permanent KP, and would make breakfast while everyone else showered; then he (?) would shower while everyone else ate. That gave them all plenty of time to prepare for the day’s fracas.

Today, however, was different. No-one seemed to want to leave his room. Eventually, the Sniper slunk into the base from his van, holding his hat over his privacy region, and darted into the bathroom. There, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. Once he resettled his akubra on his head, he took the logical next step of going to hammer on the Spy’s door.

“Oi, Spook, good joke, real fucking funny, but if you don’t give me bloody kit back before the siren goes, you’ll get nostalgic for the days when I ONLY used Jarate.”

“I did not take your clothing,” said a cold voice from behind the door. “May I suggest you ask the Scout; it sounds like one of his pranks.”

The Sniper stalked down the hall to pound on the Boston boy’s door. “Is this your idea of a joke, runt? Hope you fancy dashing for the Intel with no cover fire.”

“Snipes,” the Scout cracked the door to hiss, “I dunno what you’re talking about, but someone stole alla my clothes!”

“You, too?”

“Yeah. Hey, could you get me a towel, too?”

“I, also require a towel,” said the Spy.

“Wot am I, the pool boy?”

“Is, ah, everyone missing their duds?” The Engineer opened his door a crack to join the conversation.

“Yeah.”

“Yep.”

“Oui.”

“It’s a plot!” The Soldier burst into the hall wearing only his helmet, bandolier and boots, brandishing his shovel menacingly. “A nefarious Commu-Nazi plot to sap and impurify our uniforms!”

“Ve haf plotted nothing of the kind,” the Medic said from behind the Heavy’s door. “Ve are as naked as anyvone else.”

“Can you account for your whereabouts after lights-out?” the Soldier demanded.

The Medic opened the door, revealing firm pectorals and graying body-hair. “From approximately tventy-two hundred until tventy-two fifteen, Herr Heavy spanked me und told me I vas a naughty boy. From tventy-two fifteen until tventy-two thirty, I performed fellatio on Herr Heavy. At that point, I applied a tourniquet to forestall his orgasm, und spent ze next half hour digitally penetrating his anus until he begged for it like like a high-priced whore-”

“We do NOT need this level of detail, mate.” The Sniper slid his hat down to cover his face.

“Can you account for the entire night?!” the Soldier barked

“They can, Solly, they can.” The Engineer, whose room shared a wall with the Heavy’s, looked haggard.

“Gentlemen,” the Spy stepped into the hall wearing nothing but his balaclava and socks. “It is clear that all of our clothing ‘as been stolen. Is anyone still clad?”

“Roll call!” the Soldier thundered, hammering on a metal door with his shovel.

The Scout stepped into the hall, as the Engineer and the Medic. The Heavy followed meekly behind his lover, covering his groin with his massive hands. The Spy looked around at his teammates. “Ze Demoman?”

“Oi, Demo!” the Sniper knocked on the Scot’s door.

“Whut?” The door opened, and the Demoman stepped out, naked save for his boots and a headband containing his lordly afro.

“Demo, did someone steal your clothes, too?” the Scout asked.

“Nay,” said the Scot, then looked down at himself. “Oor mebbe aye. Oor, mebbe I left ‘em on the floor?” He stepped back into his room, then shouted. “Me flak jacket! Me bloody flak jacket is gone!”

“Everyone’s clothing’s gone, is what we’re saying, Demo,” the Engineer explained.

“Faeries!” the Demoman roared.

“Vell, I never,” the Medic sniffed.

“Elves! Theivin’ bleeders made off wi’ me troosers!”

The Spy rolled his eyes. “I do not suspect the supernatural... and we would have known if the enemy had infiltrated the base during the night. Perhaps the Pyro can shed some light.” He knocked on the firestarter’s door.

“Gw hwhy,” came the reply from behind the locked door.

“Pyro, have your clothes vanished also?”

“Yhs.”

“This is our chance!” the Scout hissed to the Demoman. “Yo, Mumbles! We’re all naked, too! Ya might as well come out!” he bawled.

“Ffhk hff.” There was a scraping sound, as of something heavy- say, a foot locker- being shoved against the door.’’

“So, if it wasn’t the Pyro, and no enemies were in the base last night-” the Engineer looked around at his colleagues, but was interrupted by a siren.

“Mission begins in sixty seconds!” the Administrator shrilled over the tannoy.

“Whattawe gonna do?” The Scout’s dick all but retreated into his pelvis with terror.

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do, men!” The Soldier raised his shovel. “We’re going to FIGHT!” He ducked into his room, then came out wearing is horned helmet. “We will shock and awe the enemy with our nude battle tactics, like the Berserker warriors of old!”

“AYE!” The Demoman grabbed the Eyelander and targe. “We’ll frighten ‘em tae death wi’ our goolies!”

When the Administrator announced the beginning of battle, the battlefield was silent for a moment. The fully-clothed RED team fanned out as they crossed the bridge, ready to counter a turtling defensive strategy. They were caught off guard by a screaming spearhead attack of bollocky bare-ass naked BLUs. They drove straight through the middle of the stunned REDs and over the bridge.

“Yeah! Check THIS out, fags! Bet you WISH you could get a piece of this action! BONK!” The BLU Scout slapped his ass and bashed the RED Medic as the man stood, staring.

“RUN AWAY BABIES or I will sit sweaty buttcrack on you!” The BLU Heavy boomed.

“Dear God NOOOO!” The RED Soldier headed for the hills.

“Jarate!” Even the BLU Sniper took to the field, holding his dick high and pissing arcs in the air as he ran.

“Mon Dieu!” The RED Spy screamed as the weaponised urine shorted out his cloak. “Zis is ze single worst day of my life!”

“I’ll cut off yer willies an’ teabag ye wi’ yer own bawws!” The RED Demoman, wielding his own broadsword, was the first to recover.

His naked BLU counterpart engaged him in a sword fight, screaming, “THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!”

From the shade under the bridge, two figures watched the proceedings with interest.

“Yanno,” said Spyro, impeccable in his mauve suit and shiny rubber gas mask, “Even though we’ve got money riding on this, I totally don’t even care who wins.” He inserted his spliff through the hole where the gas mask filter unscrewed and puffed happily as the BLU team ran past, wangs waving, threatening to poke the RED team with them.

“Mais oui,” said the Tentaspy, taking a deep sniff of the Scout’s pilfered shorts. “It is the epitome of a win-win.”

116 .

Aw, I'm so flattered that you seem to like my stories so well! Thanks for reposting them, Anons, you're sweethearts. Pining me an e-mail so I can thank you in person.

In other news, there's this:
---------------------------------------------------------
TEA PARTY FORTRESS

“One lump or two?” the Soldier growled.

“I do not see why you always get to be ‘Mother,’” the Spy said, crabbily.

“I get to be ‘Mother’ because I have the ‘Mother’ Hat!” Soldier grinned under the broad brim of the immense blue picture-hat, which was crowded with silk flowers, feather birds and wax fruit. “Now,” he challenged again, “one lump or two?”

“Just lemon, s’il vous plait.” The Spy took the cup the was handed. His own hat, a smart cloche, could not compete with the grandeur of the Soldier’s headgear.

“Fatty McFat-Fat is hoggin’ all the teacakes wit’ pink frosting,” Scout complained. He was wearing a white Sunday hat with a flowered hatband.

“He is allowed,” Medic said with equal parts smugness and tenderness. He was wearing a fine tiara and long, dove-gray silk gloves. “Heavy ist zer Baby.” He indulgently offered the huge man another cake. Indeed, the Heavy was wearing a lacy white bonnet.

“Would yer be so good as to pass the scoones?” the Demoman asked. He was wearing a floppy, feminine tam-o-shanter.

“Mf mfmrr,” the Pyro said, passing the plate. Spy looked at his hat with pity. It was a dowdy grey affair with faded silk roses around the crown.

“Sniper, I’m afraid I still don’t understand how to turn a heel.” The Engineer scowled at his knitting and discreetly tried to adjust his wig-hat, a tiny round hat perched on a mass of curls, which was itching him.

“It’s a bit tricky, you ‘ave to add stitches, then drop ‘em again, in sequence, loike.” The Sniper pushed his straw sun hat back to get a better look at the Engineer’s mass of yarn.

“That’s just it! It’s a simple mathematical formula, why’s it so gol-dang hard to execute?”

“You’re holding the yarn too tight, Truckie.” The Sniper demonstrated with his own ball of wool-

-Shots rang out. The Soldier was no longer presiding over his tea party, he was on the battlefield. Hot lead from the enemy Scout’s scattergun had torn through his guts. He was going down. Blackness filled his vision, then the nothingness before Respawn.

He rematerialised alongside the Scout and the Demoman. Screaming defiance, he beat himself over the head with his shovel before racing back to the front.

“Psycho,” the Scout looked after him. “What the Hell is he thinking when he does that?”

“Tis the Red Mist, lad,” the Demoman said. “Pure visceral hate, filling the mind of the Berserker.”

In the privacy of his own mind, Jane Doe rasped, “Would anyone care for seconds?”

117 .

>>116
This is now my favourite fic ever. So much awesome contained in such a small space. Also I badly want a scone now.

Oh Engie, don't feel bad. I can't turn a heel either...

118 .

>>116
Oh Soldier... Marty you make me pull the dorkiest of smiles at times.

119 .

>>116
What?! That was crazy and amazing and dare I say, rather delightful. I have to draw Solly in his hat. It kind of just demands it.

So many of your fics I have squirreled away onto my harddrive, Marty. You're really something special.

120 .

Seconded!

I read that on some bara forum...haven't been able to find it in the archives (or anywhere for that matter).

121 .

>>63
Seconded!

I read that on some bara forum...haven't been able to find it in the archives (or anywhere for that matter).

122 .

>>16
agreed.
Doghouse would be much appreciated!

123 .

>>99
I have one or two, if this one counts

Farewell, My Son – by Anonymous

Ok ok so

Ok
ok

a babby scout one day, in the park. He is cry and crying lots and there was a spy watchin from a bench, all lickin his cigarette an just being a sexy classy little bitch oh yeah you lick that cigarette you sassy lil devil u but wait

wait

Ok the babby. The babby cryes because he has lost from his momma scout. Spy can tell this because he hangs out whtih his friend spiner and snipers like a scut bioloEXPERT or something. And so spy can tell from the way this baby scout cries it is because he has lost his ma scout.

As he watched dem teers dribble down the little scoot cheeks and heard itHIM cryin for his mommy, a big ol’ boner pops up into his pantaloons. He is realize that this is the perfect chance to strike!! Because the mama scout will soon heer her babby callin and come round rite propa son, an then spy qiwill have to live with blue balls and : ( so this French pedo says I DON’T THINK SO MOINSEUR.

So he walked right up to a babby scoot, struttin all hotlike with a swagger in them hips that would give anyone who wasn’t a babby scout a huge 12ft boner for realz. “bonjoutr” spy growls lustily

The babby jus stares at him for a sexocond cause hes a fuking baby and don’t speak no French fuckers. Spy let out a great big le siiiiiiigh because it is annoying for him to speek the english “jentlemen” he tries in dat sexy frenchie accent.

“oh” the lil scout grunts like a lil piggy wiggy woo, sniffling.

“where are your parents, u lil cutie you” but the babby scoot just keeps on cryin “oh shut up you little worm abortion of god I mean uh ill buy you ice cream an help you find your mama”

And the babby scoot gets a hueg smile on his face, all giggling at the thought of ice cream. Spy guets down on his knee and picks up the abandoned little scoot, rubbin his back down to make the babby all relaxesd and make him wanna fall asleep because spiy likes it when theyre asleep I guess fuck.

“yes” scout shit I mean sSPY says, relaxin the little baby scoot. But the babby scoot relax so hard, he sprayed a big fountain of shit from his puffy widdle diapee all into the spys mouth.
“GRGGLFGFMMPHLLRLLRLLGGGHH” He guffaws as it goes all down his throat aw naaasty what the fuck did you eat babby scout jesus crist that is horrible.

Nevertheless spys boner rages on!! and its like 39 feet long holy shit. So ok the spy gets the babby scoot all into the alley, or hes close to it when SUDDENLY “I HOPE YOU ARENT TRYING TO RAPYE MY BABBY SCOUT “ a girl voice said sexily

Spy turned the fuck around with chunks of shit comin outta his mouth and fuck man this is disgusting what why am I riting dis. There stood a lady in a bloo dress with nice tits and a badonkadonk ass and her hands on her hips all MACHO MACHO LADY. And shit.
“mgrfrl” spy tried to respond but it was hrd because there were fuckin chunks of babby scout doodie all up in his grill.

The scoot lady mom smirkysmirkedsmirkedd all the way to smirktown and walked forward. She had a hungree looks in her eyes. Hungry fore sexing. Spy recognized this because he himself was an expert on scoot mamas, and his boner burst like ten feet at the thought because dayuuumn man. And just as she reached a hand foreward all slow toward his chest, her eyes started to glow all red an purple and it was scary.
Spy could jus stare with giant wide eyes when suddenly, A GREAT GIANT THORNY COCK BURST FORTH FROM THE FROMNT OF HER LIL SLINKY DRESS AND GODDAMM IT WAS LIKE FIFTY BILLION FEELT LONGAND SHE FUCKED THE SHITOUT OF SPYS ASS WITH ATHAT THING

THE TIP GREW GUCFUCKING TEETH AND LIKE BIT HIS BRPROSTRATE GHLANDS AND HE SCREAMED HIS LITTLE SMOKER LUNG S OUT. SO AHARED THAT HE PASSED THE HELL OUT WHEN THE DEMON WOMAN MOMMY CAAAAME LIKE A HUNDRED FIFTY MILLION GALLONS INTO HIS TINY FRENCH ASSHOLE.

Then scootma took her babby scout back “u don’t mess” she sid to the uncosnius spy and went coochiecoochiecoo and left passed out spy alone with her jizz leakin outta his mancooter. He reached back to touch it and it was fuckin black and that was growss dude.
“mgrglph” he groaned



And then like twenty fuckin years later he finally vomited up all of the poop and shit he crawled all thwe way to the babby scoot who wasn’t a babby no more and so it was legal and shit now. “ok now we have to fuck” he said pointing to his uh I think it ewas 49 ft??? yeah well go with aththat 49 feet boner

And he still had it after like twenty freakin years because it was fuc

it was built FORD TOUGH

“who the fuck are you” ask the scout, inching away from the crazy stinky man and his giant dong.

“lets DO IT” scoffffff SPY demanded in a lustful French grrrrrowl

“FUCK NO” SCOUT chimed back with chagrin bcause he was no faget up in this shit yo!! “WHATS WRONG WITHU WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM”

“FUCK MEE” spy demanded and ran forward but he wobbled becakuse him stiffy was far too big. Scout was all oh heeellllll naw and ran off.

THERE WAS A CHASE SEQUENCE AND scout bumped into the demoman NO WAIT

WAIT

OKAY SCOUT BUMPED INTO THE medic
“DOC HELP” scotu begged the medic whos e eyes were all googly and squiggling everywhere

“mein floppy dingle doo” the medic proclaimed.

“WHAT” SCOUT DEMANDED SEXILY ALL RRRRGH “YOUR A FUCKIN USELESSASS DOCTOR” but the spy was coming up behind him man oh no so he grabbed the medic and stood him in the way of the spy as a obstruction.

And then the spy stopped at the sudden medic in his way, “there is no easy way out of this predicament” spy said to noone, staring into the medics pupils scrabble and zip around in his eyeballs because it was fucking hypnotic hilyt damn. “get out of my way you mental defective.” the spy whined

“… mein floppy dingle doo”

So spy pushed the doctor over and continued to chase the scout. his big pulsating dick is all poppin and boppin around but spy doesnt care because soon he will get his fuckin revenge

MEANWHILE SNIPER

Sniper was all chillin out maxin relaxin all cool in his roost when he suddenly got hungry. There were rumblies in his tumblies and well that just wouldnt stit with the spiner. He stood up and walked down the stairs from his roost down into his
uh

down into the mess hall where he goit himself some fukken chilly. I mant chili

But back to the story sniper was all sturrin his chillis when SUDDENLY HE HEARD A NOISE

“HARK” Sniper belted, bringing up his spoon.

“uguuu~~~” his chili said, and a bean fucking turned and looked him right in the face and it looked like a puppy holy shit what the hell was that sniper stared down at this fucking dog-afaced been and tried to figure out whether he cshould kill it or not it was fuckin crepy but t was also damn kawaiii

“Did you know??” the bean said, “in their lifetime, the average Australian eats roughly 17 beef cattle, 92 sheep, 406 loaves of bread, 165,000 eggs, 8 tons of fruit, half a ton of cheese and ten tons of vegetables?”

“I am Australian you bean” sniper mumbled all hotlike

“oh shit really” the trivia dispensing bean dog replied, smilin his little doggy smiley wiley woo “that’s fuckin badass dude seriously yous gonna eat seventeen full fuckin cows hot damn ride on you crazy aussie motherfucker”
Sniper nodded in his sexty sniper way and dropped mameshiba back into his bowl, knowing what he had to do now. He walked over to his motorcycle all cool like and got on, revving the engine

SPINER RIDE ONNNNNNN (PLEASE REMEMBR THIS OKAY ITS V IMPORTAT TO THE POLOT. OAKAY. SPIONER. HE RIDE ONNNN okay anyways back to tha main evnet

AND THEN SCOUT SAW HIS OPPRTUNIYYUTY
The soldier was selling fruit because

Scout reached out and grabbed the soldiers furuitstaaaynd and he hurled it back at the spy. “YOU LITTLE MMMMAGGOT” soldier screeched after the scout, who didn’t really care as long as it kept his suhweet ass from bein raped “YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR EACH AND EVERY FRUIT IN THAT STAND YOU HELLRAISING RABBLEROUSER I SWEAR”

Even though scout chucked a fucking furutstand at him, spy perserveered with that giant veiny cock and man oh man like hell scout was going to take that up his ass or in eny orifice in his body fuck them shit

He made a break for the closest warehouse and hid in one of the rooms, when that French fucker kicked the door opoen. “NO” scout hollered like a hollering scoot as the spy and his giatn boner headed right for him.

NAD JUST THEN

JSUT THEN

SNIPER BNURST INTHROUGH THE GLASSWINDOW OF THE WAREHOUSE(???) ON HIS MOTORCYCLE

“GUDAAAAAAAY” he chuckled evilly with an evil smirk at the spy, who bellowed a great noiuse like a disnosur and took his gigantic gurth in both hands

“oh god oh god christ jesus” scout blubbered with so much fear that he was scared.

sniper looked at him “i think you know what you need to do mate” he said

Scout hesitated, but then nodded noddingly. He did know.

“fuck yeah” he said and zipped downy wowny his panty wantyies. He let his pants fall down to like his ankles and shit and wrapped his hand all round his skinny litel 4 inch sucker.

Sniper cocked his head “aah what the fuck are you doin there” because he is not expected this to happen.

“shut up” scout barked as he started to pump. Spy, too, was frozed with surprise for the scotu making a fap.

So scoots is pumpin this bitch like a motherfucker and spy and sniper an left wonderin what hes duin. Spiner catches on first though and grins like a creeper who lives in a van. He leapt with all the grazes he gained from his childhood ballet classes and slammed the door behind the spy, who was still confused as all hell.

AND THEN IT STARTED

SCOUT LET OUT A FUCKING EARTH SHATTERING ROAR THAT SOUNDED LIKE A MITOTHERFUCKING GIANT LION AND JIZZED ALL OVER THE PLACE holy shit jizz was EVERYWHERE and it got all over EVERYTHING even spy and snoipah

“mmm” snioaph scoffed all sexy and rubbed the scootcum into his shirt and his vest. He had a lil bonerdoo poppin up too, but it wasn’t too big so he could just jerk off later.

“MON DIEUUUUU” scFUCK SPY screamed as the flying stirings of com struck his italia n suit. Scout kept fuckin goin man because u don’t mess with a scoot.

Sniper looked at the distressed spy and thought. He would probably need to keep him distracted while the scut kept himself cumming all over the place like a fucking garden sptrinkler. So he walked right over and grabbed the front of snpy’s shirt and just c shpved his tongue down that frenchie’s throat all rubbin his dick against spys throat lol awhat I mean leg and sptys throat tasted like friggin twrenyty year old babby scotpoo but that was fine and the sniper didn’t care.

Spy prbroke away from the kiss while scot continued to quiver and shower them in jizz “AHH SUNNIPERU-KUN~” he said and was v moe as he turned away, biting his finger

Snoipah grinned an evil snoipahpuzs grin “ill b gentle on ur little hot ass” and then he just continued tongufuckin the dude right there RIGHT THERE in the warehouse with scouts juzze all squirtin on them

An d scout he wasn’t even fucking winded bitches he can keep doin this all day he s just standin there pumpin on his boner and his wrist is like about to fucking sniap in half cauise of this hardcorefappin

Pyro walked in too but he just said “mmsrgph” and left because idk but his muffled voice awakened something in spy that made him stop kissing sniper

“SUNNIPERU-KUN~”

“what the fuck do u want now”

“AHH SUNNIPERU-KUN WAIT~*~”

“yeah ok” he said with a shrug, backing off.

AND THEN SPY FUCKIN RIPPED HIS COAT OFF MOTHERFUCKER CAUSE THAT SHIT WAS GETTIN IN THE WAY OOF HIM AND HIS ARAPE

Sniper sighed and rubbed his dick a little dejectedly. No sex for him again…

But scout kept FAPPIN G GOTTA REPRESENT THA SOUTH SIDE CHUCKLENUTS WOOOOOO even when the spy started to fucking fly around the room scout kepyt aim and fired hot manloads after him and spirted all over the walls!! Holy shit it was an epic shbattle with scotus juzzes.

and then the spy fired lazers out of… his giant honking jewnose I guess and one of them hit the scout in his kock

“AAAAAAA” he screamed
“uh” sniper stopped touching himself loneg enough to see that the scout was wounded by lazers

“I I CANN I CANT ICANNUT…” Scout tried, causing sniper to sigh again.

“what the fuck are you trying to say to me” he asked, walking forward.

“I CANT DO IT ANYMORE AAAA” he wailed, jabbing his finger down at his lazor-shot cock likfe fifty bajillion times

“NONESESNSE, scout” Sniper excalaimed!! So sniper frolicked behind the scout and whipped his dick out because it was his time to shine

with the speed of a thousand badass aussies who had eaten their daily breakfast of seventeen dairy cattle he started to cocklslap the scoots deliciously tight ass with his aussie dongaroo “AH AH OH!!” scout moaned and groaned like an overused leather glove and started to fap fap fap again even though it hurt like a bitch

So he was fapfapfappin and then a little jizz started to come out again. “ah fuck” scout mumbled, frowning down at his limpening dick. Sniper continued faithfully smacking the scouts reddening butt with his dick

“HAHAHA I WILL RAPE YOU” the flying spy said charging his jewnose laser attack for its special finale

WHEN ALL OF A SUDDEN

ANOTHER ROPE OF WHITE MILKY DELIGHT SPURT FROM THE SCOUTS TIP

“YEEEEEAH” SHNIPER BELLOWED IN MANYLY EXCIUTEMENT AS HE CONTINUED TO COCKSLAP THE SCOOTS RAW BUM CHEEKS

AND THEN IT TURND FUCKING RED AND SCOUT THOUGHT HE HAD AIDS HOLY SHIT BUT THEN IT TURNED YELLOW AND SNIPER SIAD A LOUDBATTLE CRY JERRRATE AND THENIT WAS BLUE AND HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS SCOUT WAS SHOOTINGFUCKING RAINBOW CUM OUT AT THE SPY UP IN THE SKIY

AND WHATTHE FUCK IS THIS FIREWORKS CAME OUT AND FIZZED AND CRACKLED AROUND THE ROOM SPININ AROUNDLIKE IT WAS THE FOURTH OF JULY OR CANADA DAY OR SOMESHIT LIKE THA T GODDAMN I COULD ONOT MAKE THIS SHIT UP JOHN

HOLY FUUUCKING

The spy deflated with a last shriek. When the flying jewnose menace was defeated, the scout let himself collapse. He was shaking an panting even though like ten of his ribs were cracked and his wrist was like snapped off and his spine was now broken into hhhh around three different pieces from arching like a fucking hero and his ankles were also twisted.

Sniper sighed”you fucking dumbass sonofabitch” and then he grabbed scoot by his ankles and dragged him off.

Scout woke up in the fuckin sickbay with his mom sittin at his bedisde and the medic all cfcuckin creepy screwed up weyes eyed and shit. Then like three of his german nurses came in and raped scoot on his raw little wilkins and it was very sad day.

“ohget over it you little queer” his mother gruntd sharply, taking a huff from her cigarette and obviously unahappy to be with her son, who was in the sick bay for wanking too hard. Scout whimpered like a bitch.

--

Enginer finsihed his very sad song with a solid guitar strum, and manyly tear for his friend the scut. but only one.

“scouts still with the medic, and hes makin progress every day.” he turned back to the little chilluns gathered around his campfire for the cool story bro!! “and the moral of this here sad tale kiddies is

The kids were all fucking asleep.

“YOU LITTLE FAGGOTSHITS” engineer yelled. He beat those disrespectful little motehrfuckers to death with his guitar and went home


THE END

124 .

"heavy/medic MEDIC IS SUPER TSUNTSUN FOR HEAVY"

Well.





--------------------




ok

ok so lots of girls wanted me to write more gay shit or somethin so well ok i guess i will i mean i guess its ok if GIRLS are the ones asking or somethin YOU ALL BETTER BE HOT

ANYWAY this ones about medic and heavy so i dunno if you wanna read it i mean its medic he's all OLD or whatever and heavy is PRETTY FAT but whatever it still counts as GAY or whatever so here goes

but anyway ok so one time i went to the infirmary or whatever i forget what for probably something AWESOME and BADASS like i broke both arms wrestling a bear and savin everybody's lives or whatever and HAHA THAT DIDNT HURT AT ALL but anyway so i go and i hear this EPIC NOISE kind of like a BEACHED WHALE MOANING or somethin all like UROOOOOOOOOooOOOOooo or whatever so im like what the fuck and look inside and there IS a freakin BEACHED WHALE MOANING IN THERE

except it's Heavy

and hes all like NAKED and FLOPPIN EVERYWHERE and making UROOOoooOOOOoo noises and theres like BLUBBER and FAT ROLLS FLYING AROUND ALL OVER THE PLACE and im like HOLY SHIT HEAVY WHAT THE FUCK WHATS WRONG are you DYING?? or at least im ABOUT to ask or whatever cause im such an awesome teammate and i save peoples lives from bears all the time BUT ANYWAY i was about to ask but then i didnt because thats when i saw MEDIC

or at least like PART OF MEDIC cause he was sort of BURIED UNDER HEAVY and i was like HOLY SHIT HEAVY IS A FREAKIN SPY HES TRYING TO SMOTHER OUR DOC and i was about to go KILL HIM even with BROKEN ARMS cause im that badass but then suddenly medic is all OH MEIN GOTT LIEBE HEIL JA BERLIN or whatever and he sounds all ANGRY but he sort of sounds HAPPY at the same time it's WEIRD kinda like when he's all YOU IDIOT YOU BROKE BOTH ARMS FIGHTING A BEAR BUT NOW I CAN GIVE YOU SHOTS AND TOUCH YOU ALL FAGGILY LIKE A FAG, like that

BUT ANYWAY medic is turning all RED and stuff and i thought he was like DYING cause he couldnt BREATHE cause heavy's REALLY FAT and his FAT was getting all into his MOUTH and EYES and LARDING UP EVERYTHING everything holy shit but NO, medic was BLUSHING and shit I swear and he might have been CRYING BITTER OLD MAN TEARS or whatever or maybe Heavy was just SWEATING ALL OVER THE PLACE I couldnt really tell i mean god the whole room was like a freakin sauna except the sauna had a DYING BEACHED WHALE IN IT

but anyway so heavy FLOPS AROUND SOME MORE all FLOP FLOP BLUB FLOP and medic keeps goin all OH MEIN LIEBELING SAUERKRAUT BRATWURST for a while and then SUDDENLY HEAVY IS ALL UROOOOoOoOooOOoOOOORRGHHHHH and FREEZES AND STARTS SHAKING ALL OVER AT THE SAME TIME and all his FAT STARTS JIGGLING ALL OVER THE PLACE ITS LIKE FREAKIN JELLO, MAN, A WHALE OF JELLO and medic is all OH MEIN GOTT STRUDEL BLITZKRIEG and then THIS HUGE PUDDLE OF WHITE STUFF like EXPLODES OUT FROM BENEATH BOTH OF THEM and GETS ALL OVER MY FREAKIN SHOES

and im like YOU ASSHOLES MY FREAKIN SHOES and im like trying to YELL at them like YO GUYS MY ARMS ARE FREAKIN BROKEN FROM FIGHTING BEARS HERE but its like they dont even HEAR me they're too busy BEING A DEAD BEACHED WHALE (heavy) and CRAWLING UP HEAVY'S MOUNTAIN OF BLUBBER and SUDDENLY NOT BEING ANGRY and BEING ALL MEIN LIEBLING I LOVE YOU SO MUCH EVEN THOUGH YOU'RE GIGANTIC AND FAT AND SWEATY AND HAIRY AND GROSS BLAH BLAH MUSHY CRAP GAG (medic) who is still FREAKIN NAKED BY THE WAY and im all liek OH GOD I DID NOT WANT TO SEE YOUR FREAKIN OLD MAN ASS

EVER

EVERRRRR

not that i ever wanted to see heavy JIGGLING OR ANYTHING HOLY JESUS

and i was like yknow what holy fuck ill just respawn

and that's the end

but anyway im back and my arms are fine so we can still have sex right

i even wrote this gay story for you god

ill be in my bunk or whatever

- SCOUT

125 .

"Hey Scout, can I make a request? I would be situated in your bunk every night for a year if you wrote something about Engineer. I mean, his workshop seems like a pretty hazardous place, but I've heard you go in there all the time! That's so manly of you."


Well.



--------------------


ok

ok well i guess i could

i mean NOT THAT I HAVE TO PROVE ANYTHIN or whatever, of course i'm really freakin' manly just for like BEIN HERE ok i mean anyone who WASNT MANLY ENOUGH would totally be DEAD or like SICK or DYING or whatever with like freakin HEAVY AND MEDIC all FLOPPIN AND BLUBBIN AROUND all over the place and freakin RAPE SNIPERS droppin from the roof all the time

but dude that's not even like the WORST PART ok, its like EVERYBODY HERE IS FREAKIN GAY i mean i guess it sorta makes sense NOT LIKE THAT but i mean they're all like OLD and LONELY and FORTY and have been here FOREVER or something and they're all like desperate and shit, i mean seriously i see the way they look at ME sometimes and i gotta be all like SEE THIS FREAKIN' BAT, I AM HOLDIN THIS BAT until they get all disappointed and go hump each other or somethin

seriously one time the freakin' spyfag bought me a DRESS, i was like what the hell do i do with a DRESS you moron, are you retarded? dress up a pillow or something? im not THAT desperate, maybe HE is, he kept being all HON HON OH PETIT CAFE POODLE CROISSANT YOU DO NOT GET IT BONJOUR or whatever

faaaaaaaag, why the hell was he BUYING DRESSES anyway

whatever, anyway that's not the point

but ok so one time i was goin to see engie in his workshop or whatever and yknow how i told ya like EVERYBODY HERE IS GAY (except me) right, and ok well ENGIE was like one of the ones I was PRETTY SURE wasnt gay until I FOUND OUT HE WAS GAY TOO so i was kinda SURPRISED, right, I mean he doesnt really COME OFF GAY or anythin like the freakin spyfags and RAPE PEDO SNIPERS, i mean i guess he doesnt come off STRAIGHT or anything either cause he's always like NO SCOUT YOU SHOULDNT DO THAT ITS NOT PROPER AND NICE AND WHATEVER whenever im like DUDE LOOK AT THIS CHICK'S BOOBS but i figured that's cause he's from texas and they're all MARRIED TO JESUS or somethin down there

BUT ANYWAY so i was goin to see him in his workshop once cause MEDIC AND HEAVY WERE BUSY CRUSHING EACH OTHER (yknow, GAYLY) and shit, they need like a BE RIGHT BACK WE'RE BUSY BEING FAGS AND STICKING DICKS WHERE POOP COMES OUT OF, DO NOT WALK IN AND SCAR YOUR EYES AGAIN sign for the door or some shit BUT ANYWAY I had this freakin cut on my leg that wouldnt stop BLEEDIN (I was trying to cook and MISSED ok SHUT UP) and I was gonna be like YO I NEED A DISPENSA WRENCHFAG except I get close to the door and I hear this

weird squeaking noise

all squeak squeaky squeaky

and its not just a WEIRD SQUEAKIN NOISE its like a weird squeakin noise and a bunch of METAL SHIT like CLANGIN and RATTLIN and stuff AND THEN i hear BULLETS AND GUNFIRE and shit and i'm all OH SHIT THIS IS SERIOUS, THE BLU SPY IS TOTALLY IN OUR BASE OR SOMETHIN and im like RUNNIN TO THE DOOR ON MY BLEEDIN LEG or whatever and im all SHIT ILL SAVE YOU and i got my bat and shottie and everythin except then i hear engie bein all YEE-HAW and im like

wait

what

and i open the door LIKE A DUMBASS cause i totally SHOULDNT HAVE DONE THAT i mean FUCK ive been on this base for freakin' HOW LONG and goddamn there's GAY EVERYWHERE note to self NEVER FREAKIN OPEN DOORS oh yeah and never go in sniper's van again he never actually has candy

BUT ANYWAY so ENGIE and the FREAKIN' PYRO are sitting ON A MOTHERFUCKING SENTRY im not even kiddin, like sorta SMASHED INTO THE LITTLE SPACE between the little loopy things with the bullets i dunno what ya call em but ANYWAY THEY'RE TOTALLY SITTING THERE and ENGIE IS TOTALLY NAKED and i was like OH FUCK I DID NOT EVER WANT TO SEE THIS EVER IN MY LIFE EVER and well at least PYRO wasnt NAKED or anything but that was kinda WORSE cause that was what was making all the SQUEAKY NOISES like his SUIT or whatever cause they were all

RUBBING

OR SOMETHING

like I DONT EVEN FREAKIN' KNOW they just kept RUBBING LIKE THEIR WHOLE FREAKIN BODIES OR WHATEVER all SQUEAK SQUEAK and the sentry was all turnin around all crazy tryin to TARGET THEM OR SOMETHIN and they were both just RIDING IT LIKE IT WAS A HORSE OR SOMETHIN i guess they LIKE THAT IN TEXAS except it wasnt a HORSE it was a freakin level 3 sentry so i guess it was like a CRAZY METAL GAY SEX HORSE SHOOTING BULLETS EVERYWHERE or whatever I DONT FUCKIN KNOW OK

and i was like WHAT THE FUCK IS GOIN ON

but they didnt HEAR me cause engie and pyro were BUSY RUBBIN OR WHATEVER and the sentry was FIRIN everywhere and clankin and clatterin and engie kept being all YEEHAW BRONCOS and COWS and COWBOYS and CACTUSES and REPUBLICANS and i dunno, MEXICANS, other texas stuff, and Pyro was being all HMRMRMRRMGHGHGDHRHR rub rub rub RUB RUB RUB squeaky squeak or whatever and SUDDENLY I REMEMBERED like OH SHIT so THATS what engie and pyro meant when engie is always liek HEY PYROFAG COME HELP ME WELD STUFF WINK WINK (WHAT, I FIGURED THEY WERE JUST WELDING MACHINE SHIT OK, NOT LIKE, WELDING THEIR DICKS)

but the sentry's all SPINNIN and engie and pyro are all SHOUTING and HMRMRMHPHing and RUBBING and HUMPING or whatever and im standin there like I DONT EVEN, I DONT EVEN, and suddenly ENGIE IS ALL RIDE EM COWBOY HOWDY YALL or whatever and explodes white shit all over Pyro and i guess AT LEAST PYRO HAS HIS SUIT ON OR WHATEVER except it GETS ALL OVER THE SUIT and they just keep RUBBING and its all SQUEAKY and WET and GROSS

so i puked on the floor

AND THEN THE SENTRY SAW ME

AND SHOT ME

AND THEN I DIED AGAIN

FUCKER

FUCKERS

GAY fuckers

i want to go home






hot chicks in my bunk and stuff are totally helpin, though

i even have a dress now if any of you want it or somethin

-SCOUT

126 .

"AND I WANNA KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF DEMO AND SOLLY'S RAD BROMANCE, MAN."
"So, how are your own team's Soldier and Demoman getting along now that there's a war?"
"Well Scout, seems like you only have Demoman and Soldier to write about now."
"If you write about Soldier and Demo next I'll come over and show you all the wonderful things a MATURE AND EXPERIENCED (wo)man can do."

Well.



--------------------


ok

ok just for the freakin' RECORD or whatever, i'm the RED scout, OK, RED like the opposite of BLU, so no SPIES ARE DOIN MY MOM or whatever ok, not like the faggy BLU one except well I guess he wasnt REALLY a fag or anything i mean he was KINDA cool, SORT of, yknow FOR A BLU, AND A WUSS, AND A DUMBASS, but that's whole nother story and not this one ok GOD just hold on lemme finish this one first ok geez

WELL ANYWAY so like AFTER THAT LAST THING HAPPENED or whatever, i mean after the like GAY SQUEAKY SENTRY SEX HORSE RUBBING SHIT, i like respawned and PUKED ALL OVER THE PLACE AGAIN and I was like YKNOW WHAT i should just go get DRUNK or whatever to FORGET all this GAY SHIT or im just going to have NIGHTMARES FOREVER

so i go to the kitchen or whatever right to go look for BEERS or whatever, im TOTALLY OLD ENOUGH TO DRINK SHUT UP, WHO'S CHECKIN ANYWAY, except when i get there the kitchen's already like BEEN TAKEN OVER by the freakin RAPE SNIPER and he's all GDAY SCOUT WOULDJA LOOK AT THE TIME MATE and im like i dont freakin know what time it is fag where's all the beer and he's all ILL SHOW YA WHERE THE BEER IS and he tries to DRAG ME TO HIS STUPID VAN AGAIN and im like FUCK YOU THERE'S NO BEER IN THERE I CHECKED IN THERE LIKE THE LAST FOUR TIMES so i punched him in the balls and ran away

seriously they all think i'm STUPID or somethin god

BUT ANYWAY that's why i decided to like GO SEE DEMOMAN or whatever cause he like ALWAYS has shit to drink i dont even know where he GETS that shit i mean he's just ALWAYS DRINKIN or whatever but where does it EVEN COME FROM, if i ASK him he just starts sayin random shit about like WEE BROWNIES and crap and im like THAT DOESNT EVEN MAKE ANY SENSE why would you ever piss in a brownie unless you're RAPE SNIPER but anyway people from scotland are freakin weird and totally wear skirts but ANYWAY that's not the point

so i go to the door and IVE TOTALLY LEARNED MY LESSON OK like dont just go OPENING DOORS or there might be like SUDDEN GAY on the other side of NAKED ENGIES RUBBING ON PYROS ON A SENTRY and then you puke and they SHOOT YOU AND YOU DIE, so see i do the SMART thing and LISTEN AT THE DOOR FIRST ha see im not freakin stupid but anyway im listening and like i hear SOLDIER yellin in there which is kinda weird but i mean i guess why not, soldier and demo have to TALK SOMETIMES right

and soldier's bein all STOP BEIN SUCH A WEEPY WOEBAG OVER YOUR BLU SOLDIER FRIEND OR WHATEVER MAGGOT LADY and demoman is bein like Wot Wot My Good Teammate Perchance Wherefore The BLU Soldier Was A Bosom Buddy of Mine And I Loathe English People With The Passionate Burnings of a Thousand Hearts Aflame or somethin like that, or at least i THINK he is, i mean it sounds like EYEBALLS LADDIE BLAH BLAH SHIT I DONT UNDERSTAND BAGPIPES OCH ABOOT EYEBALLS but im like SUMMARIZIN here ok i never understand anythin he's sayin

and soldier's yellin all LADY MAGGOTS FORGET ABOUT HIM DROP AND GIVE ME TWENTY and HARDER PRIVATE YOU CALL THAT A WORKOUT and other stuff about like PANTIES AND BRAS and stuff and like how maybe DEMOMAN SHOULD BE WEARIN THEM and demoman is bein all Toodle Pip Wot I Am Totally Scottish and Celtic Art Thou and the Loch Ness Monster is My Next Door Neighbor, Soldier My Friend Cheerio Crumpets and Scones or whatever weird words, no wonder i dont freakin understand him, and soldier's bein all STOP TALKIN AND GET MOVIN, DO IT MAGGOT

so i figure they're just like workin out or soldier's gettin all pissy cause demoman's being all sobby and sappy or whatever and open the door cause I LIKE REALLY NEED THAT DRINK

and yknow i think im just gonna stop opening doors period

cause the FIRST FREAKIN THING I SEE is soldier's BONER except its sort of covered and yknow i would say that's REALLY GOOD usually, like seeing boners is bad but at least covered is BETTER than NAKED BONERS yknow what i mean, EXCEPT ITS NOT BETTER THIS TIME BECAUSE ITS COVERED BY THIS LIKE LACY FRILLY PINK THING with like HEARTS and TEDDY BEARS and RAINBOWS and COOKIES and TALKING ABOUT FEELINGS or whatever

and im like WHAT THE SHIT HOLY SHIT NO WONDER HE KNOWS SO MUCH ABOUT FREAKIN FRILLY TRAINING BRAS AND SHIT GIRLS DO cause he's freakin WEARING ONE and his HAIRY MANBOOBS are like STICKING OUT OF EM ALL OVER THE PLACE and there's freakin LACE and PINK and SWEAT AND DICKS AND MUSCLES AND MAN HAIR EVERYWHERE

and he keeps YELLIN AT DEMO askin if HE CALLS THAT ASSPLOWING, HE COULDN'T PLOW AN ASS IF HIS LIFE DEPENDED ON IT, MAYBE THAT PANSY BLU SOLDIER WAS OK WITH THIS BUT RED HAS HIGHER STANDARDS OF PLOWING ASSES, GIVE HIM TWENTY MORE and Demo is all Croquet and Pip Pop Aye Toodle Kilts Me Hearties or whatever and DEMO IS TOTALLY PUTTING HIS DICK IN SOLDIER'S POOPER like MAYBE THEY CUT A HOLE IN THE GIRLY PANTIES OR SOMETHIN and he's totally like FEELIN UP SOLDIER'S HAIRY MANBOOBS like maybe he's DRUNK ENOUGH TO THINK HE'S A CHICK but that would have to be PRETTY FREAKIN DRUNK i dont freakin' KNOW ok

I DONT FREAKIN KNOW

and then SOLDIER STARTS YELLING ABOUT LADIES and stuff again and Demo's bein all Oh Hello There Scout Me Laddie You Don't Understand Any Freakin Thing I'm Saying Wot Haggis Angry Fat White Guys with Red Hair Wherefore Cheerios Frosted Flakes and the PANTIES and TRAINING BRA and shit are like starting to RIP EVERYWHERE cause they were sort of MEANT TO BE WORN BY CHICKS and not like FREAKIN FORTY YEAR OLD HAIRY DUDES, and HAIR IS STICKIN OUT OF ALL THE PLACES THEY'RE RIPPIN

and then i notice my dress is on the floor in the room, or well not MY dress but the one SPY gave me or whatever that i never WORE and i was kinna WONDERING where that went BUT I GUESS NOW I KNOW

and im like HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING and why do you have my dress but they dont HEAR ME cause SUDDENLY SOLDIER'S YELLING about HOW YES THIS IS NOW SATISFACTORY ASSPLOWING AND HOW HE SECRETLY LOVES ROMANCE NOVELS AND SOAP OPERAS AND LIKES PAINTING HIS FACE AND TALKING ABOUT HIS FEELINGS OVER THE TELEPHONE AND HAVING SLEEP OVERS AND KEEPING A DIARY AND HOW HIS DADDY NEVER LOVED HIM and Demo being all What's In a Name That Which We Call a Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell as Sweet YOU BAAAAD GIRL

and SOLDIER SPEWS WHITE STUFF ALL OVER HIS FREAKIN' PANTIES they kinda RIP OFF and go FLYING ACROSS THE ROOM RIGHT ONTO MY FREAKIN SHOE and I guess DEMO SPEWS WHITE STUFF INTO SOLDIER'S ASS since that's WHERE HE IS, AND EVERYTHING, and then SOLDIER JUST STARTS SOBBING AND CRYING LIKE A LITTLE GIRL and they're getting all CUDDLY AND GROSS and whatever all STROKING EACH OTHERS DISGUSTING OLD-MAN BODY HAIR ALL TENDERLY and shit and THERE'S A FREAKIN' WET FRILLY PANTY ON MY SHOE

and im like EVERYONE IN THIS BASE IS FREAKIN GAY HOLY SHIT and i just grab the nearest bottle of demoman's BOOZE or whatever and GET THE HELL OUTTA THERE while they're busy with FEELINs and TOUCHIN and STEALIN DRESSES and ORDERIN MORE PANTIES FROM CATALOGUES or whatever

BUT ANYWAY

but anyway

im gonna go get drunk now

dont tell sniper

-SCOUT

127 .

"RAPE VAN"
"BLUFAG"


Well.



--------------------



ok

ok so like i dunno where to even START with this man

i guess i could kinna do BOTH, i mean the first time i ever MET blufag was in the RAPE VAN or whatever, i mean not like THAT, ASSHOLES, i mean like ok well it MAKES SENSE or whatever right, like RAPE SNIPER has his stupid VAN FULL OF PISS AND RAPE AND PISS and i dunno but anyway its a VAN so he can DRIVE to places and get us FOOD or whatever that's not like boring army food all the time so when he was all yo come check out my RAPE VAN i just got back with like tons of candy and soda and cookies and other nice stuff that ISNT RAPE i mean this was before i saw the whole ASS DIVING INTO SPY or whatever thing so i thought he MIGHTA ACTUALLY HAD SOME, OK, IM NOT JUST RETARDED, IT MADE SENSE SHUT UP

so i mean of course i WENT but then freakin Sniper started bein all WEIRD and CREEPY and tryna TOUCH MY BUTTCHEEKS and TAKIN HIS PANTS OFF and BREATHIN THROUGH HIS MOUTH and RUBBIN HIS DICK ON ME and stuff so i kinda went ok you know what this is kinda gettin a little gay and left

ok? ok

NOTHIN HAPPENED

but ANYWAY like i said im not RETARDED or anythin i mean he still coulda HAD some stuff in there, yknow, i mean i didnt get to SEE or anything because freakin SNIPER and his DICK kept gettin in the way so like i did the SMART thing or whatever n went to look in his van while he WASNT THERE to see if he was lyin or not, cause im totally smart like that, and so after he left to probably GO RAPE SPY AGAIN OR SOMETHING, fags, i climbed in the window and thats how i met blufag

or well i mean i SAW him before like BASHIN HIS FACE IN AND KILLIN HIM ALL THE TIME and stuff but like not like OUTSIDE of war or whatever and its not like i KNEW IT WAS HIM OR ANYTHIN until he SAID so cause he was kinda NAKED and LOCKED IN THE CLOSET or whatever which SUCKED, i mean for me, not for him, or well i guess for him too BUT I MEAN WHAT THE HELL, I JUST WANTED TO FIND SOME FREAKIN CANDY AND I FIND A FREAKIN NAKED BLUFAG INSTEAD MY LIFE FUCKIN SUCKS

BUT ANYWAY im like WHO THE HELL ARE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU NAKED WHAT THE FUCK and have you seen any candy and blufag was all MHHRRNHNRNGMRMRM cause RAPE SNIPER put a sock in his mouth or whatever and so i took it out and he was all YOU GOTTA HELP ME MAN IM THE BLU SCOUT OR WHATEVER IVE BEEN IN HERE LIKE THREE DAYS and i was like oh yeah NO WONDER i didnt see ya yesterday and put the sock back in and kept searching for candy or whatever

whatever, i got priorities ok

and anyway the freakin SNIPER WAS A LIAR and there was no candy or soda or cookies or cake or anythin ANYWHERE and i was like SNIPER YOU FREAKIN SUCK and mixed some jarate into his coffee or whatever, ASSHOLE, and i was about to climb out the window again when i hear somebody like CRYING and im like OH YEAH i totally forgot about the naked guy ok whatever ill untie ya and stuff and HAHA you're totally CRYIN like a girl and he was all AM NOT and i was all ARE TOO and he was all AM NOT and i was all ARE TOO and he was all AM NOT i was all FAG and he was all YOU'RE A FAG and i was like YOUR MOM'S A FAG and he was all YOUR MOM'S FACE IS A FAG and i was all YOUR MOM IS A FAG'S FACE, and he was all YOUR FACE IS A FAG'S MOM and

or wait maybe he said that, or maybe i did, or whatever i lost track you get the point

BUT ANYWAY i was like IM NOT THE ONE NAKED IN SNIPER'S PEDOVAN and he was all YOUR SNIPER'S A FAG and i was like YEAH HE TOTALLY IS and he was like HE DIDNT EVEN HAVE ANY MORE FREAKIN CANDY and i was like WHAT THE HELL HE GAVE YOU CANDY and he was all YEAH HE DID and i was like WHAT THE HELL FREAKIN SNIPER and blufag was all YEAH I KNOW WHAT A RAPIST AND SHIT and i was like NO YOU DUMBASS HE'S FREAKIN OFFERING CANDY TO THE OTHER TEAM freakin traitor that candy was supposed to be MINE

ANYWAY so he's all DUDE YA GOTTA HELP ME I NEED TA GET OUTTA HERE and i was like dude if you were in a closet for like three days how the hell did you POOP and he was like THATS NOT THE POINT YOU ASSHOLE I NEED TA GET OUTTA HERE GIMME YOUR CLOTHES and i was like WHAT NO FAG WHAT THE HELL and he was all IF I TRY TO RUN OUTTA HERE NAKED THEY'LL JUST KILL ME, IF IM IN YOUR CLOTHES THEY'LL JUST THINK IM YOU, YOU CAN JUST GO BACK TO YOUR ROOM AND GET MORE OR WHATEVER and i was like yeah how about im NOT GIVIN YOU MY PANTS

but then he started CRYIN AND BEGGING or whatever again and i was like MAN you're a freakin wuss why the hell did ya come over here ANYWAY and he was started tellin me some story about how ALL THE GUYS AT HIS BASE ARE SUDDENLY TURNIN GAY AND HE DOESNT KNOW WHY and RAPE SNIPER started talkin to him or whatever one day when they like MET somewhere or i DUNNO but anyway he thought RAPE SNIPER would HELP him or somethin but then he DIDN'T and he just took his CLOTHES or whatever and PUT HIM IN THE CLOSET and oh GOD he just wants to go back to BLU BASE and HE'S SORRY and DRIBBLING SNOT ALL OVER MY SHIRT and whatever

so i shot him in the face and went back out the window

whatever, he'll respawn on the other side

and later RAPE SNIPER walks into the kitchen all PISSED all DID ANYBODY GO IN MY RAPE VAN TODAY and i was like why the hell would we do that you dont even have any candy and he was all GO TO HELL RUNT and went away again and that was kinda awesome and OH YEAH EVEN BETTER like the next day i freakin see blufag again and he's NOT NAKED THIS TIME and he actually like GAVE ME A BOX OF OREOS AND SHIT before i shot him in the face again, that was awesome, i freakin love oreos

but yeah lookin back on it i mean he turned out to be kinda ok, and geez, yknow that story about like ALL THE DUDES ON HIS TEAM SUDDENLY BEIN GAY, i mean that kinda pretty familiar, maybe i shoulda listened harder or somethin before killin him that time cause i mean whatever happened THERE might be what's happenin HERE and stuff and BLUFAG didnt sound all GAY or try to RUB HIS DICK ON ME like RAPE SNIPER or anythin, and IM not gay or anythin and maybe its just US

but ANYWAY more stuff about that later this freakin story is already like FIVE BILLION WORDS, that's more than i can say in like a freakin HOUR or somethin

BUT ANYWAY that's the first time i saw blufag

the second time he was in a dress

-SCOUT

128 .

Scout clearly has the mind of a young Shakespeare.

I love this shit. I AM A FAGGOT HUMP MY RUMP

129 .

>>128
I have never been able to figure out what the HUMP MY RUMP is filtered from.

In other news, the first Scoutfic (the ok so ones) was Sniper, being all manry and rape-attacking Spy from the roof, "he doesn't even get horny he just DECIDES he is"

I remember big chunks but never had it saved. That is my biggest regret from the chansplosion.

EENF EENF

130 .

Can i get from this wonderfull serie with Blue Engineer/Spy/Sniper beeing in a relationship. I´m particular fond of this fic, where Engie and Sniper dress as their red counterparts and having some funtime with Spy.

131 .

Those scout stories make me laugh so hard! He sounds just like a hyper kid on radioactive soda

132 .

I would like a repost of Memoirs (I think that's the title)... An incomplete fanfic of a post-war Scout waiting for a response from the Spy. This is the only post-crash lost and found in the chan, and it just so happens to be in the afanfic section.

133 .

Does anyone have Naive Spy, and the sexytimes that go along with that? I know the original story wasn't a-fic, but I can't seem to find it.

Does anyone know if that ever got finished? I heard that the author was considering finishing it, but I might have heard wrong.

134 .

I'm looking for a fic called "Every Time" or something like that, which is about Scout getting caught jacking off and subsequently fucked three different times by Engineer, Spy, and Sniper. Does anyone have it?

135 .

Does anyone have the collaboration fics between DuskZephyr and Zuul with Engie/Scout and Spy/Sniper? Pretty please?

136 .

Does anyone have "Just to make myself attractive to you," by DuskZephyr?

137 .

Does anyone have "Just to make myself attractive to you," by DuskZephyr?

138 .

>>135 Is it called 'Ties' by any chance? Has an eventual four-way with the two couples in a secret room? Cause if so, I've got it somewhere.

139 .

>>136

Just to Make Myself Attractive to You, by DuskZephry (Part one of four or so)

~~~

Sniper liked resting in his perch. Perch meaning the hideaway he had set up in the attic of the base. The sniping battlements were his workplace and it was impossible to relax there. Part of being professional was separating work and relaxation. Moment the sirens went off he'd run to the battlements, blow some minds and try to avoid getting backstabbed. Moment the battle was over, he'd be back here to enjoy some peace and quiet before deciding whether he felt like being sociable.

To others, the Spy appears calm and cool at all times. But that did not mean he was comfortable or felt at ease. He didn't feel he fit in with these people (oh, not that he cared). Being considered a 'support class' got kind of lonely. Not that he'd admit that. He didn't heal or protect, just destroyed and lied. He wasn't sure if he was in the mood to destroy or lie, or maybe perhaps just visit another lonely person-- but it’s how he ended up in the doorway of Sniper's attic. "'Allo!" Cheerful, as if he were expected.

Sniper had been nearly dozing off on the bed - two old mattresses he had taken with some pillows and blankets he had found in the supply room - when he heard his unexpected guest come in. He woke up quickly, turning his head sharply to the door. He was a bit confused at Spy's appearance. "Spy? What're you doing here?" Next to nobody came up to see him unless they were baring some sort of message. Group meeting. Battle in ten minutes. Kitchen's on fire. Heavy's on rampage.

Spy carefully paced, examining the room. He made a face at the collecting dust and a particularly intricate spider-web. Ew. How quaint. Like a French parrot, "What are you doing here?"

Sniper didn't like Spy pacing his perch. Nor did he like the little grimaces that kept flashing over his face. "In case you haven't noticed, this is my place. So, I'll ask again - what are you doing here?" He stood up, hoping Spy would get bored and leave.

"It's yours? Goodness. I had no idea." Spy touched his chest, like a fancy lady scandalized. "Would you mind showing me where you wrote your name on it?"

"With pleasure." Sniper strode easily up to Spy and pushed him out the door. With him outside, Sniper pointed up. Written messily in red paint on the wood over the door was 'Snipes Here'. Scout had painted it up shortly after finding Sniper relaxing here and decided he might need to know where the sharpshooter disappeared to. Sniper stretched after pointing it out - hell, he had been so close to falling asleep before Spy came in.

Spy hadn't been expecting that. He also felt a little foolish for not noticing that beforehand. But then a smile slowly spread across his face, "Non, I said where you wrote your name."

"What? How old are we, ten?" Sniper really didn't know what to make of Spy's behaviour. Admittedly he didn't spend a lot of time with many of teammates so many of their habits were alien to him.

"Is that what you're into, Monsieur Sniper?" Gently, he raised his gloved hand to his mouth, "Oh, is that why Scout wrote that up there?" He then pointed with one finger, making a little circular motion, "Are you two... how you say... involved?"

Sniper stared. Intrusion into his personal space he could handle, it happened enough when he was on the clock. This was entirely new. "No!" He said strongly. "Brat just wanted to know where I was so he could pester me." Although, Scout had never pestered him. Just shouted in his doorway and left. Right now, Spy was pestering him! And he didn't even know why yet. "Look, is there something you want?"

"Why do I have to want something?" Spy looked downright offended. As if he'd want something from the filthy jar man! "I just came to see if you were still alive!"

"Well, I am." Sniper turned and left Spy in the doorway. He sat on his makeshift bed and reclined onto it, hands behind his head. Bloody spook. Now it was going to take longer for him to doze off again.

Spy walked back into the room. "Why are you sleeping during the day?" Did he not get enough sleep at night? Did something keep him up? These were things Spy wanted to know.

Sniper cracked open an eye, plucking his hat off his head. Without his shades the green of his eyes was clear to see, along with his bemused expression. Why was Spy still here? "It's called 'The Hottest Part of the Day'. Too hot to go out or do any work. Might as well sleep since there's nothing else to do."

The shade of Sniper's eyes tugged at something in Spy's stomach. What is this? Oh, that could not be good. Spy thought he had gotten over that silly notion long ago. "That is terribly boring." He strode right over to the mattress and somehow landed gracefully on the corner of it. "Look, we're sitting together, isn't this nice?"

Sniper sighed, putting his hat over his face. Spy seemed to keep cropping up more often around the base or at least, the parts of it Sniper went to. It was probably just his overworked brain being on constant alert for Spies, regardless of team colour. He took the hat off his face and gave Spy another half-lidded look. “Yeah, real nice.” He said dryly.

"Don't you get lonely?" Spy wouldn't dare imply that he got lonely. He could imply all day that Sniper got lonely. Then he'd imply even harder that Spy was doing him a favor by hanging around.

"Sometimes. Then I go downstairs." Spy obviously wasn't going to leave. Sniper decided to give in to the conversation for a little bit. Lying down, he was already feeling drowsiness ebb over him, like a slow incoming tide. "What do you usually do that this time of day?"

Oh dear. The conversation went to Spy and he couldn't have that. It was somewhat nice that Sniper would ask, but regardless, he wouldn't talk about himself. "Oh, you know, I fly my private jet back home..."

"Heh." It was a short of chuckle. Sniper should've known that Spy would avoid saying anything revealing about himself. Although the joke itself hinted towards a sense of humour. Sniper leaned back, his eyes shut as he breathed deeply. He wasn't asleep, just in that drifting state. He actually felt more alert with his heavy eyelids closed.

The situation Spy found himself in felt incredibly intimate to him. It made him smile, which was fine, as Sniper's eyes were closed. Slowly, Spy put his hands on the bed and raised himself up. He moved back a little bit. The small of his back touched Sniper's legs. He leaned back until his shoulder blades touched the wall.

Sniper's legs shifted slightly when something touched them. He assumed it was Spy but the way his weight was spread felt a bit odd. Uncurling his arms from behind his head, Sniper pushed himself up onto his elbows and yawned, before opening his eyes.

Spy folded his hands on his chest. How incredibly unhealthy this was. To borrow a few moments from a teammate like this-- especially when it was one that he found mildly attractive. (Maybe. In the right light). He noticed Sniper stir and he waited. His reaction to this was very important. Spy would either need to cloak and run... or something else.

Sniper blinked when he saw Spy leaning back over his legs. Then he let himself fall back, stifling another yawn. The close proximity was a bit unusual for Spy but it was hardly the worst thing in the world. Maybe he was just so tired he wasn't going to raise a fuss about it.

Spy's hand gently floated from his chest to Sniper's knee. The touch was light, conversational, even. This was dangerous. But it might be worth it. "So when you get lonely, you go downstairs?"

Sniper barely registered the touch as Spy's hand grazed his knee. "Yeah. See what's on the box. If there are any papers to read. Any news from home." When he was down there he got along perfectly well with his teammates. He just required solitude for longer periods compared to them, otherwise he became uncomfortable.

"Do you ever feel... that you aren't part of their little family?" Spy wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Sniper of this-- or maybe he was just trying to get into the other man's brain. Maybe both.

"What you on about?" Sniper frowned, not reopening his eyes. "I get along with them all just fine. Just in moderation. And not in big crowds." Although, four people was a crowd according to Sniper.

"Then why are you not down there now?" Spy grinned. A bad habit of his, smiling so wide when he knew he was right.

"Cos I'm not lonely - I said I go down there if I'm lonely." Sniper pointed out. He was drowsy but for some reason, this conversation was keeping him awake. It was going to mess up his sleeping patterns.

Spy applied a slight amount of pressure to Sniper's knee. He squeezed when he spoke, "Ah of course you are not lonely now, because I am here."

Sniper felt that. He shifted his knee away from Spy's hand just by bending it. He really was tired. "Either that, or because I'm half asleep right now." The words were half said, half murmured.

Spy didn't like that. Don't you dare move your leg from Spy! He frowned. "Maybe you should wake up, you're being terribly rude." You know what would be rude? A stab in the face.

You know what's rude? Entering uninvited. Sniper sighed heavily. "Okay, okay." He pulled himself up to a sitting position, leaning back on a hand. His other hand rubbed his face, index finger and thumb rubbing at his eyes. He was clearly still very drowsy despite agreeing to get up.

Now that Sniper agreed to wake up, Spy felt he was bored here. He stood up swiftly and pulled his cigarette case from his pocket. Like a therapist trying to tell you your time is up, "Okay." We're done here.

Sniper rested his arm over his bent knee, watching Spy. If he had to stay awake he could use a cigarette himself. "You got a spare?" he indicated to the case.

Spy looked as if he was considering this and it was painful to him. His voice went up like he was speaking to a child, "Oooh, I don't know about that..."

“Why not?" Sniper asked gruffly. It was just a cigarette, it wasn't like he asking for anything precious or personal. He adjusted his legs and leaned forward so he could sit without needing to use his hand for support.

Spy made a soft clicking sound with his tongue and teeth. "Well because then, you'd owe me a favor..."

Sniper thought this over. Owing a Spy a favour was never a good thing. He didn't even want to be awake, only Spy wasn't going to stop bothering him. Sniper stood and went to the table to check if he had any of his own still there, only finding his lighter and some other papers that he couldn't smoke. "Piss." he muttered to himself.

Spy watched, amused. "So, have you decided for me yet?"

Sniper groaned, rubbing his face. He was somewhat eased by the fact that this was their Spy, so there was a slightly reduced chance of being backstabbed. "What sort of favour would we be talking here?" he asked, turning to face Spy. If there was lesson he had learnt from his mongrel father, it was never agree to anything without knowing the full conditions.

Spy pulled another cigarette from its case. He switched it with the already-lit one in his mouth. He used the embers from one to light the other. He handed it over to Sniper between his first two fingers. "I was just wondering if you'd be open to such a thing." Favors and such.

"Hmm. Well, thanks anyway." Sniper took the cigarette and took a drag. He wasn't bothered by the fact Spy had handed him the fag previously held in his lips - he had bummed cigarettes before. He could feel his mind waking up a bit more already.

Spy put one hand in his pocket. The other held his cigarette between his lips. He noticed the way the Sniper held his cigarette compared to his own. Spy held his like it was something precious, like a little friend. Watching Sniper smoke made Spy curious. He wanted to see how he did other things. Merde, why was his mind going there?

Sniper held his cigarette delicately - the same way he cradled his rifle or his knife. A man had to respect his occasional fix just like his equipment. He wondered over to the window and stood up it, leaning slightly against the frame. He glanced back at Spy. He still had no idea why the Frenchman was here but something told him that it'd be futile to try and find out.

Spy decided to allow a bit of information to the surface, "I feel a little less lonely now, merci." Maybe he could use it against Sniper later. Either way, Sniper would know.

Or not. Sniper turned so his back was against the wall - it made it easier to see Spy. That sentence certainly explained why he had decided to come up here, and why he asked Sniper about being lonely. It was probably Spy who felt left out of the team when it came to being sociable. Sniper took another drag and exhaled, the last tiny wisps of smoke exiting through his nose rather than his mouth. "No problem. If you're desperate, feel free to come up here." He still had his van for total privacy.

Wrong choice of words, enculeur de porcs. Spy's eyes narrowed. "I don't get desperate. But if I did, that would explain why I came here." Spy touched a button on his watch and he was gone-- except for the smoke from his cigarette, but that was fading quickly.

Sniper rolled his eyes. "In that case, you did get desperate then, didn't you?" He took another drag before he stamped the cigarette out roughly, this time allowing the smoke to drift completely from his nostrils like an angry bull. But Sniper wasn't angry. His exhaustion was catching up on him, that's all. He moved to his bed and collapsed elegantly onto it, closing his eyes for his delayed afternoon sleep.

*The Next Day*
Spy liked to pretend that he didn't have a routine. That way no one could follow it and guess his moves. But it was morning and everyone had their morning routines. Spy sat on his bed, a large bowl of hot water on his nightstand. He shaved with a straight razor and a small mirror propped up against some books. With his shirt and balaclava removed, this was clearly something he'd rather to in private.

Sniper woke up in a surprisingly good mood. Normally he detested getting up but this morning he had arisen in better-than-usual spirits. So when he found the pile of mail that had arrived from HQ, he took it upon himself to deliver the letters (after some coffee, of course). The last to deliver was Spy's. He stood outside the man's door and casually knocked, turning over his own letter and the one marked for Spy.

The letter was probably marked all over-- the postmark and the return address crossed out. Spy always had at least one letter every few months and it was destroyed soon after reading it. He wasn't expecting one today (and you can bet on it that he knew the exact day he'd get one). The knock surprised him-- "Attendez un moment." He had to quickly dry his face and at least put his mask back on. Spy then answered the door, his mask damp and clinging to his face. He just looked at Sniper. How dare you.

Sniper was admittedly caught unaware by Spy's undressed state. He especially noticed the wet mask - it clung to Spy's face, defining his features far more clearly then it usually did. Sniper held up the secretive letter. "This came for ya."

A preemptive thanks, "Merci, good day to you." Spy went to snatch the letter quicker than Sniper has ever seen the other man move.

Sniper raised an eyebrow at the movement. Anyone would think he had been opening the thing. Speaking of opening letters, he still had his own to read. He ignored Spy and leaned against the doorframe, tearing open the envelope.

Spy pushed Sniper a little and tried to slam the door on Sniper's face.

Sniper merely put his foot in the door to prevent it from shutting. That was pretty rude. And as he saw it, Spy had waltzed into his self-made room without permission. Why should he expect privacy above anyone else? "Got a problem?" Sniper asked, skimming over his letter.

"Yes, you." Spy's letter had apparently disappeared into thin air. No telling where he stashed it. In the room? In his pants? ... Did he magic it away? "You may go now."

"I may. But I feel that you owe me." Sniper said, half distracted as he read his own letter. He unknowingly frowned as he read. Although written in his Mum's handwriting, he could see his father's influence in the content.

Spy let out a dramatic sigh. "What do you want." Deadpan and barely even a question. Spy realized he was still holding the straight razor. He could just magic Sniper away too, couldn't he?

"Just a cigarette." Sniper said. He'd need one, once he was done with this letter. He looked away from the letter to look up at Spy, his frown eased into a mild expression.

Spy whirled around, back to his nightstand. The razor was placed next to the bowl of water and mirror. He made a big show of pulling his cigarette case out and pulling one out for Sniper. Almost like a dealer at a casino or a magician. "Here." But it sounded more like GET OUT.

"No need to be so snappy. Anyone would think you're embarrassed." Sniper gave Spy a casual glance over as he took the cigarette and stood himself up. Why Spy would be embarrassed was beyond Sniper to know. Bloke didn't look too bad without the pinstripe suit. He turned to walk away.

Oh no he didn't. "Embarrassed? Moi?" Spy cleared his throat. "Do you need a light?"

Sniper considered it for a second. He had a lighter of his own up in his room. But he was irritated right now, clutching the letter a bit tightly. "I wouldn't say no to one."

"Well..." Spy looked momentarily confused for a moment. Has anyone seen this look on his face before? "Come back here, then."

Sniper returned to Spy, mutely screwing up the letter and stuffing it into one of his pockets. He held up his cigarette so it could be lit, watching Spy and looking into the room. He noticed the washing up bowl by the mirror and figured out what he had interrupted. Oh.

Not to mention the fact that Spy wasn't wearing a shirt. This was the man that was always dressed nice. There were a handful of times when Spy was seen in his pajamas and even those looked expensive and custom made. He reached into the pocket of his pants and produced a lighter. Instead of lighting it for Sniper, he just held the lighter out at him. This might be what the Americans call 'being dissed.'

Sniper took the lighter, as if ignorant of 'being dissed'. He lit up his cigarette, sighing at the warm nicotine in his system. He had to be careful how often he smoked, he could easily get addicted to these things. "Thanks." he nodded to Spy and began to walk off, pocketing the lighter. Diss the Sniper, lose your lighter.

"No no, get back here." Spy followed, leaving his door wide open. Ooh, that bothered him. He's going to get paranoia shakes like an addict who can't get a fix. Sniper was dragging him out of his comfort zone. "That is mine."

"Oh, this?" Sniper held up the lighter. He stopped and looked it over, twirling it in fingers. "Why do you need such a fancy lighter? Don't get me wrong, it's very nice and all, but there are better things to spend money on." He had turned to face Spy as he talked, careful to make sure he could keep the lighter out of Spy's hands if he got grabby.

That son of a bitch knew what he was doing. Spy turned his head (so maybe Sniper won't see how he narrowed his eyes). "I'm sure there are." But it was a gift, so who is Spy to ask questions?

Sniper walked up to him and pressed the lighter into Spy's hands. He was sure that wet mask had to annoying as hell by now and it was probably best not to piss him off too much. Sniper didn't need two Spies after his back. He then kept walking, as if nothing had happened, taking another drag from his cigarette and pulling out the crumpled letter.

Spy wanted to tell him to come back again... but lacked a reason. That fact alone, that he wanted him to come back? Made Spy want to stab him. How dare he! "You always going to be delivering the mail?"

"If I'm in a good mood." Sniper stopped and turned again. Why was Spy asking? He seemed annoyed enough that he had knocked on the door. Oh, maybe that was why. "If I do give out the mail, I'll slide yours under the door."

A smile flashed on his face, if only for a moment. "How will I know it is you, then?"

"Because everybody else would either knock or barge in." Sniper pointed out. Even then, Medic and Engie would probably be the only ones to knock.

"So, if it is slipped under the door, I will know it is you... and I will thank you... how?" Spy glanced up, innocent as can be.

Sniper thought about this for a moment, then answered as innocently as Spy. Only genuinely innocent. "You could come up to my room and keep me company." He had messed up last time on offering his companionship, so maybe it wouldn't go down so badly this time.

A normal person might have faltered. Smiled. Blushed? Spy just shrugged. "I suppose."

That was better than his little disappearing act. Sniper nodded and walked off again, smoking his cigarette deeply. He glanced at the letter, wondering if it would burn completely if he stubbed out the fag into it.

*A few weeks later*
Sniper put the lid firmly on the tin, hiding away the remaining biscuits in a drawer of the desk. Scout hid baby chickens in his room, Demo tried to hide booze...everywhere and Sniper had a stash of biscuits. He sat down in the chair he had taken to go with the desk and put his feet up on the desk itself, eating one of the treats he had retrieved.

Spy had been coming up to the perch after battles almost regularly. Almost. He liked to keep Sniper guessing. It was his way. The first few times, he played it off as not so much 'visiting' but 'checking up on.' When Spy waltzed in (literally, he was dancing with an imaginary partner) it was clear this was a visit. "Allo!"

"Hello." Sniper replied, watching Spy dance in. Looks like Spy was coming today - Sniper could never be entirely sure until the man appeared in the doorway. He was beginning to get used to Spy's quirky nature but it still amused him to see Spy move as if dancing with someone. "Oi, I think you're missing something there." Sniper said, biting into another biscuit.

"I'd rather dance alone than with any of you louts." Spy stopped dancing and shoved both hands into his pockets. A tilt of his head, "What is that, what do you have?"

"This here?" Sniper held up a biscuit between his fingers. "Just a biscuit. Pretty hard to come by so I make 'em last best I can." He popped the biscuit he had shown Spy into his mouth.

"Willing to trade?" Spy cleared his throat, delicately bringing his fist near his mouth. "I might be able to trade it for something better." Or eat it.

Sniper chuckled. "Depends on what you have mate." He held up another one, teasingly. Maybe Spy had something better. Or maybe he didn't. Either way, this could be fun.

Spy walked over to where Sniper sat. A little bit like a dog getting up in your personal space, sniffing for the location of the treats. He didn't sniff or climb up in Sniper's lap but he did stand a little too close. He bent to get a better look. "They don't even look that good."

"So you don't want one?" Sniper drew the biscuit to lips and ate it, just like that. There was only one left now, so he'd best preserve it.

Spy was always sneaky, but at that moment, he was also in a good mood. Combine those things and you had Spy reaching out to snatch the last biscuit off the plate.

Sniper noticed the movement and immediately slammed his hand over Spy's, pinning it to the table. "If you want it, you need to tell me what I'm trading it for." he said lowly, smiling mischievously.

Spy did not like being cornered. He was much like a raccoon. Stealing things, wearing a mask, lashing out irrationally when you corner him... "What do you want?"

"You haven't told me what you're offering yet." Sniper drummed his fingers against Spy's wrist, still keeping his hand down. Maybe the spook had something good hidden away. It was just a question of what he might have.

"Let me have the goddamned biscuit, you weirdo." Spy let out a huff and turned his head. They are awfully close and he realizes how easily he could get away if he wanted to-- but has not yet tried.

Sniper's smirk widened. "I might. But then you'd owe me a favour." He had noticed that they were both able to make each other uncomfortable, but Sniper liked it best when he was getting under Spy's skin. For obvious reasons.

Spy turned his head back, "I would not mind such a thing." His face and voice were devoid of any telling signs.

Sniper was weighing up the options. He sat back and plucked up the lonely biscuit with his free hand. "That so, eh? I wonder what kind of favours you'd do for me..." Sniper honestly couldn't picture Spy really doing any favours. Mostly because they were very mundane things - it was only a biscuit afterall.

Spy's face finally cracked. The corners of his lips twitched into a grin. "Like what?" Do go on, dear sir.

"That's what I'm wondering about." He continued to tap on Spy's hand with his. "Like...how much would you be willing to do for me?" His smirk still in place, Sniper leaned back in his chair comfortably.

Sniper has no idea what Spy was willing to do for him. He had no idea at all. "Let me go." This wasn't about the biscuit anymore, was it? Spy wasn't sure and it was actually making him nervous.

Sniper obeyed, lifting his hand and placing the biscuit in it instead, still smiling at Spy. Spy hadn't answered the question but he was clearly a bit anxious.

"Stop smiling at me." Spy frowned down at the biscuit as if it had wronged him somehow.

"Why?" Sniper asked innocently. He waved the biscuit slightly, noticing Spy frowning at it.

"Because it is making me suspicious of you." And only Spy was supposed to give people that feeling.

"Suspicious?" The smile disappeared at that, replaced with a curiously puzzled look. "Suspicious of what?"

Spy could just smack him right across that goofy face. Stop being so goddamn attractive. "Of you." Your intentions. "Your biscuits."

Sniper raised an eyebrow, looking at the biscuit. "Oh yeah. They're real deadly. I put rattler poison in them." he said, dryly, without malice. Looked like Spooky was getting jumpy over nothing.

Spy realized he was still standing close to Sniper. Hell, he was still even still bent a little. Spy stood up straight. "If you are not going to share, we-- wait, poison--" There was a slight scoff of what could be Spy holding back laughter.
Sniper smiled at that. A scoff was hard to get from Spy but it was worth it. Sniper lifted his legs from the table and stood up himself, putting the biscuit back on the plate. He kinda liked being close to Spy. By which he meant, he didn't mind it. Actually, Sniper found this train of thought confusing. Best abandon it.

Spy didn't want to take any steps back, so he found himself again just looking away. "Stop smiling." It was weird and terribly attractive.

"What, is it illegal to smile now?" Sniper asked. "You should try it more often." You look nicer when you do. Everyone looks better when they're cheerful of course but Spy seemed to smile fairly rarely, so it was more striking when he did.

"No reason to," that wasn't Spy being a pessimist. It was just that no one around here gave him reason to. The BLUs did, though, but that was a different kind of smile.

"None?" Sniper took a few steps to the side, so he was looking Spy in the eye again. He gave Spy a worried look. Everyone here had something to be lighthearted about, outside of work. Apparently Spy didn't. That's pretty depressing.

"I did notice you missed a perfectly good shot the other day, that made me laugh." Don't you dare, Sniper. Don't you fucking dare.

"Nothing outside of work?" Sniper huffed at the choice of amusement. It probably wasn't even true, just something Spy was saying to rile him up.

"Well, I suppose I thought of it again later and that made me smile." And with that, Spy couldn't help but smile. Just a little one.

Sniper shook his head. "Doesn't count." He smiled in response anyway - a small smile was still a smile. But silently, Sniper did question his motives. Why was he so bothered about Spy smiling? Probably because it was connected to him being happy, which he didn't often seem to be.

"Talking about it made me smile, bravo, assassin." Spy gave a small, polite applause.

Sniper shook his head at the applause. He wasn't sure if Spy was being geniune, joking or mocking. It didn't matter, as far as he could tell there was no ill intention. He then realised that they were close. Maybe a bit too close? He stepped back slightly.

With a sigh, took a step towards Sniper. "When are you going to kiss me, you moron?"

Sniper's face became blank in surprise. "Wait, what?" he asked quickly. He didn't step away though, just giving Spy an incredulous look. "Where did that come from?"

"Do not pretend, we are adults here." Spy thought that if he were wrong about Sniper, he could at least convince Sniper that was what he wanted to do.

Sniper frowned. He could admit that he and Spy were close. But he'd never thought of something like this. Maybe Spy was still fooling around? That seemed to make the most sense, given how suddenly Spy had come out with it. "Well, why am I supposed to be the one who starts it?"

"Because I'm certainly not going to do it." Spy put his hand on his chest, clearly scandalized.

"Why not? Too nervous?" Sniper's charming smirk returned. He couldn't help but be amused when Spy daintly used his hands to express himself - a bit like a woman. He'd never say that of course, Spy was probably slap him and flounce off, shaking his hips.

"Never. I have just thought it would be you that started it." Because Spy has thought of it. Sniper grabbing him forcefully, pinning him against something. Oh, how he wanted to be pinned. Pin him, dammit!

Sniper took off his shades and leaned towards Spy, seeing how far he could go. With an inch between their mouths, he stopped. He still wasn't sure if this was another psyche-out game or if Spy meant it. Damn Spies, so hard to read! "What made you think it would be me?"

Spy's eyebrows were cocked, but his mask hid it. He didn't move. "I do not know, wishful thinking?"

One of Sniper's hands skimmed up Spy's side, settling at his hip and stroking the fabric. It felt expensive. "Wishful thinking?" Sniper stole slightly closer to Spy, halving the gap between them - their bodies, heads and lips. Even if Spy was joking, Sniper was oddly enjoying this. It felt good to be close.

Spy turned his head away again. Like a fussy child. No. Do not want. "You heard me." He would not say it again, Sniper would have to take what he got.

Sniper debated what to do for a moment. Then he pressed a kiss to the cheek Spy had presented to him and pulled away. If that's all you want, that's all you got. And if he wasn't meant to kiss him at all, then he wouldn't get stabbed for going for Spy's lips.

"That." Spy scoffed and put his hands on his hips. "Was pathetic. You call that a kiss?"

"It was a peck on the cheek. Why?" Sniper asked, folding his arms and frowning at Spy.

"Do you think that was what I wanted?" Really now, Sniper, who are you kidding?

"Well, it was what you turned to me." Sniper pointed out factually. Honestly Spy.

Spy turned back towards Sniper and just looked at him, straight on. "How about now?"

See, now I could kiss you on the lips." Sniper stepped forward again, keeping his arms folded. "If that's what you want."

Spy's voice edged on annoyed, "Do not play stupid any longer." He was going to strangle Sniper. Maybe after.

Sniper gave him an amused smile. For a moment. Then he simply pulled Spy in by the upper arms and kissed him on the lips.

Spy leaned into the kiss, slighting parting his lips. He kept his arms right where they were, in Sniper's grip.

Sniper opened his mouth too, rough tongue licking Spy's lips. His grip didn't loosen but changed - he wound his arms around Spy properly, pulling him against his chest.

Spy put his hands between them. Not to push Sniper away, just to rest on his chest, touch the buttons of his shirt. It seemed like a moment when the kiss would wind down and the two would part. Like in the movies, the couple smile at each other and -- no. Spy deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue against Sniper's hungrily.

Sniper wasn't going to easily relent. He eagerly responded to Spy's tongue, pushing it back and tasting it all over. This was another game. It was just different to their usual wordplay.

Spy reached up and his fingers found Sniper's hair. He twisted and toyed with a lock, a little bit of a distraction from Spy's leg moving between Sniper's. He allowed Sniper to be dominant for a moment. Spy would get his chance. Maybe.

Sniper found it quite unfair that while Spy could fiddle with his hair, he couldn't reach Spy's. But he had a feeling that attempting to remove the mask would result in more than a bitten tongue - nobody had seen him with it off. Instead, Sniper slid a hand to the back of Spy's trousers, untucking the shirt so he could slide a hand up on Spy's warm back.

Spy's gentle hand threaded into Sniper's hair and turned to a hard tug. He pulled Sniper's face away from his own, "Now who said you can do that?"

Okay, maybe it wasn't safe. A slightly feral growl fell from Sniper's lips at the tug. "Who said you could put your leg here?" He answered, rubbing Spy's leg with one of his own. Strangely enough, he only noticed it because of the tugging on his hair.

Spy sidled up a little closer, aiming on making Sniper have to lean back against the table (with the lonely biscuit). "I did not say stop, I was just curious."

Sniper let himself be pushed gently back until his hips collided with the table. "Well, since you didn't ask me, it was no-one." He traced patterns into Spy's back with his fingers, absorbing the texture.

Spy's leg between Sniper's moved slightly, his thigh putting pressure on the other man's crotch. "I just find it amusing that you needed such direction earlier and now look at you."

"I'm more comfortable using my hands." Sniper's voice became lower, a touch of huskiness sneaking in as Spy put slight pressure on him. In truth he just wasn't really thinking much right now. He had an idea of what was happening but he really was better with actions then words at this moment in time. Which is why he leaned forward and caught Spy's bottom lip with his teeth, gently pulling so they could kiss again.

Spy considered all of what was happening. Sniper killed from a distance and hoarded things. Then when presented with something new that felt good (of course Spy felt good to him) he pawed all over it. It didn't seem professional and it didn't seem like Sniper and Spy loved it. He wanted to feel that Sniper wanted him, even if it took a little shove. He wanted to keep shoving, push Sniper someplace uncomfortable. Spy allowed himself to be kissed once again and pressed his body against Sniper's.

Sniper pressed back against Spy, using the hand spread over Spy's back to pull him as close as possible. For an unreliable ghost of a man, his body felt firm and warm. Sniper opened his mouth and let his tongue press against Spy's lips, demanding a challenge.

Spy's hand in Sniper's hair remained there. His fingers twirled the strands around and he gently scraped his fingernails on Sniper's scalp. Spy's lips moved, granting Sniper access and his own tongue slid against Sniper's.

Sniper kissed with more force a Spy's fingernails scraped at his head, mimicking the movement on Spy's back with his own hand. But before he could get to try and make Spy squirm, a loud shout broke the moment. "Oh holy SHIT man! What the fuck??" Sniper couldn't think of enough curses to express his displeasure at the arrival of the Scout, who was standing in the doorway and staring at them.

Spy pushed away, a little undignified. He cleared his throat and attempted to straighten his shirt. "Do you need something?" Pretend nothing happened!

"Yeah, I need to know what the fuck you guys were doing!" Scout exclaimed. He took heed however as Sniper picked up his kukri, clearly looking furious. "Oh urm, Medic said...something." What he had seen had clearly removed any message he had brought with him.

"Why would you need to know? Are you writing a novel? Scat, before the gentlemen here slices your arms off." Spy buttoned his jacket and casually placed his hands in his pockets.

Scout obeyed quickly, bolting from the door and disappearing as fast as he could. Sniper sighed heavily, lowering his kukri and rubbing his face a little in irritation. Just as something good was getting started, it had to be cut short.

Spy's hands left the safety of his pocket once again. He clapped his hands together, "Well then, I'll be on my way."

Sniper nodded. "Yeah. Medic'll be expecting someone." Since Scout had failed to say who had been wanted, it looked like they both had to go.

But Spy didn't wait for Sniper, nor did he answer him. He just took off in a quick stride out the door. Sniper Who?

Sniper frowned after Spy. He knew that the Frenchie was the jittery sort but there was little point in acting defensive after they had been caught red-handed. He merely followed Spy out, licking his lips. They tasted of Spy's smoke, and whatever else Spy had put in his mouth.

----------

Spy was injured. This was usually not too big of a deal. Usually, there wasn't a medium point. Either he was hurt so badly his death came quickly-- or he was hurt so little, a quick trip to the enemy's dispenser patched him up. As of lately, Spy has been having more issues with the other team. Their Pyro appeared to be stalking him. More than normal. Their Engineer was going out of his way, (far out of the way, away from his sentries) to spy-check. So much that Spy had wondered if his disguise kit was on the fritz. What the hell was their deal? It was almost unsporting.

Spy kept his cloak up the whole way back to the RED base. (He swore he was being followed) He wasn't able to make it to the resupply. In fact, he ... he just wanted to sit down for a moment. Just for a moment. He thought maybe he'd be safer with another teammate and Sniper seemed to be the perfect match. Spy didn't want to bother the other man, he just silently slipped into the room and uncloaked.

Sniper was in a mindset. The type where his mind was split in two - one half was focused down the scope, the other monitoring the room he was sniping from. It was a very difficult mindset to acquire but Sniper had soon picked it up after coming out here, and you best believe that it served him well. The BLU Spy would still try to bother him, but now over half his backstabbing attempts ended with a kukri to the throat.

So when Sniper heard the hiss, he reacted without thought. He dropped his rifle and whirled around sharply, drawing his kukri and lunging at the smoking Spy. One hand grabbed the Spy’s wrist (the backstabbing wrist) and slammed it against the wall, as the kukri was placed against the Spy’s chest. Sniper was slightly hunched, like a dog raising its hackles, glaring at the Spy through his shades.

Spy obviously did not like this turn of events. There was a bit of blood soaking through the temple of his mask, through his lovely suit jacket. Ugh, that thought alone was killing him, not the bullets wedged in his skin. Now his own Sniper was attacking him! Spy coughed weakly and brought his knee up to Sniper's groin. "Pardon me."

Sniper dropped his kukri and staggered away from Spy immediately, curled over. "Son of a bitch!" He glared up and realised now that this Spy was wearing red, not blue. Oh. He slowly stood up properly, groaning. Bastard could hit hard if he wanted to, but what a low blow. "Couldn't you have just told me that you're here?" Rather than just decloak like the enemy would!

"I did not want to bother you." My my, try to be nice and all you get is a big stupid knife to the chest. "But in the end, I bothered you."

Sniper shook his head. "Well, thanks for the sentiment." Even if he did get kneed in the crotch for being careful. He scooped up his rifle and began to settle down in position again, kneeling by the window. "You look pretty rough." he added as he got comfortable. Normally he didn't see Spy at all during working hours, so it was new to see him with a bit of blood on his lovely suit.

Spy groaned (quietly, as he did have some pride left in him) and slowly slid down to the floor. "It was the thought that counts, no?" He took off his suit jacket and began to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt. "I am being harassed."

"By who?" Normally Sniper wouldn't indulge in conversation. His split mind trick didn't go as far as language; however with Spy in the room he was covered if someone came in. But if Spy's being harassed by someone, they might follow him here. Which means that they'd find Sniper too.

Spy rolled his shirt sleeves up. No, that would not do. He removed his gloves and began to unbutton his shirt. With a sniff, he finally replied, "The grease monkey."

Sniper looked away at his scope from that. "Why-" The Engineer was an odd choice of pursuer, even if he did have a right to be pissed at Spy for sapping his machines. He would've finished his question, except he noticed Spy undressing. "-what are you doing?"

Underneath his clean, crisp dress shirt was what the Scout referred to as a 'wifebeater.' How uncouth. "Assessing the damage. And I'm not sure why. Well. I have an idea, but I should not assume."

Sniper nodded then looked out his scope again. Speak of the devil, there was the 'grease monkey' running around with a shotgun. Sniper smirked to himself. He may have eleven PHD's in his arse, but the man was a redneck through and through. He headshotted him without a second thought. It had nothing to do with the Engineer harassing Spy (what the hell gave you that idea?), it was just a rare opportunity.

Spy sucked in a breath, "Merde!" Maybe he shouldn't have been poking at things lodged in his skin. "I think their Spy has sullied my good name."

"How so?" Sniper asked airily, reloading. Best to shoot fast now - the BLU's had noticed the Engineer's very sudden death.

"I overheard them talking about something I did to their Scout. And personally, I do not usually bother with the Scout." Ever. Anywhere. Ever. Ew.

Hello Medic. "You reckon the other Spy disguised himself as you and did something?" BANG. Bye Medic. As Sniper reloaded, he momentarily wondered what something was.

"Probably. He seems the type to do that." It wasn't really clear if Spy knew BLU Spy personally or he just knew his type (which was in fact, his own). "I will figure out a way to get him back." He just had to figure out what something was. "Well, fuck this, I am not going back out there." Even when cussing, the Spy sounded so calm, polite, almost deadpan.

Shit. Scout. Sniper fired quickly - too quickly. He only caught the twitchy brat in the leg. But there pure satisfaction as Sniper watched the boy bounce off the bridge and plummet into the water. "What're you gonna do instead?" Sniper reloaded and stood up. They would be catching onto his position now. In the back of his head (the part that usually remained conscious of the room when he was scoped), he wondered if there was a way to bring some emotion into Spy's voice.

"Are you leaving?" If Sniper was leaving, Spy would just get him to help. He'd just give a bit of a guilt trip or maybe begin to whine. No need to ask, Sniper would want to do it.

"Yeah. Hang around too long and they catch on." Sniper slung his rifle over his shoulder, walking over to his kukri and picking that up. Can't leave anything behind. "You didn't answer my question."

Spy answers the question with another, "You are going to leave this bloody mess here?"

"Course not." Sniper bent over and picked up Spy's blood-stained clothes, ignoring Spy - at first. He held the jacket and shirt in one hand and extended the other to Spy, to help him up.

Spy watched, almost shocked. Almost. He then held his hand out and grabbed Sniper's wrist. "Heave ho, gentleman." Despite the fact that Spy didn't weigh that much and there was only one gentleman in the room.

Sniper tugged Spy up onto his feet, then gave the room another glance around. Nothing left. Sniper began to leave, carrying Spy's clothes with his equipment. "So, what are you planning on doing?" There still was a reasonable amount of time left before ceasefire, so he could easily set up and get some kills before then.

"I think perhaps I will go drink copious amounts of alcohol in and try to drown myself." Or take a bath, either/or. The only thing that could hold enough water would be the dish washing sink. He'd have to barricade the door to the kitchen. "I am done for the day."

Today must have been rough. Or did Spy do this often? More likely the former in Sniper's mind. "Whereabouts should I put these then?" He lifted up the hand holding Spy's items. He could take a quick detour to put them away somewhere, since Spy is probably going to be trying to gather the copious amounts of alcohol he's planning on drinking.

Spy did not play hooky very often. He was a credit to the team, even if you barely ever saw him. Whoa, he was starting to feel a little woozy. Spy stopped in his tracks and clutched his stomach. "To my room, Jeeves."

Sniper stopped and faced Spy, noticing how Spy curled over his stomach. "Hold up. How badly are you hurt?"

Spy coughed, "I am not dead."

Damn Spies, can't just give an answer even when they're clearly injured. Sniper frowned, putting aside the bloody clothes. He gently took Spy's arm from his stomach and lifted up his vest to see for himself.

Blood soaked through an undershirt, a dress shirt and a vest so easily. (Why did he wear so many layers? Was it a metaphor? Was he an onion in another life?) There was a bullet in his lower abdomen. He had figured it must have hit something important, as all those little organs are packed in there so tight. What Spy didn't know was that it missed a few vital things and wasn't poking holes in his precious guts. It hurt like hell and was going to get infected something awful. "Excuse me, sir, you are in my personal-- augh-- bubble."

"You're excused." Sniper was so grateful for his glasses, hiding his expression. He didn't want Spy to see how easily he became concerned, lowering the shirt and looking back to Spy's face. "Why haven't you called Medic, you daft ghost? Or go hiding by a dispenser?"

"I do not hide." Like hell he did. He hid all the time. "Maybe I have gone loopy. I just want to sit. Can we sit? Here?"

Sniper looked around. This was hardly a good spot to sit, anyone could come running by. He shook his head to Spy. "No. Not here." An idea came to mind. "My perch. C'mon." He put a hand on Spys back, guiding him towards the perch. It wasn't far from here and there was no way anyone would arrive uninvited.

Spy felt strangely comforted by this. He would have felt better if he was drunk or better yet, dead but this would do. "...Is there a first aid kit on the way?"

"Sure thing." There was a resupply cupboard on the way. They could pick up what was needed there, get to the perch and patch Spy up. Then the spook could go on his way and drink himself stupid for the rest of the day. The first two parts of Sniper's plan went smoothly - they were up in his perch with the first aid kit without being intercepted on the way.

Spy sat on the floor and put two cigarettes in his mouth. He lit both. Neither were offered to Sniper. "No one will look for me here." Yes, but how will he get the booze? "Can I try something?"

Sniper raised an eyebrow as the two cigarettes. But he didn't comment - let the shot man have his fags. "What is it?" Sniper asked, kneeling beside Spy and opening the first aid kit.

Spy fiddled with the case. A puff of smoke and suddenly-- the Shot Man was Sniper. "Who do I look like?" If this thing was broken, he was going to throw it at Engineer's head.

Sniper blinked when he saw himself, calmly smoking two cigarettes and bleeding over his floor. "You look like me." Why was Spy toying with that thing now? Sniper exhaled through his nose before turning to the kit and retrieving what he would need to treat the disguised Spy.

"So it does work." Hm! Interesting. "I really ought to have got something for the pain." He reached up and wiped his temple with the back of his wrist. He sat there, still disguised and didn't seem to think anything of it. "Can I try something else?"

"If you want, but I'll have to start fixing you up soon." It was strange to hear Spy's voice from his mirror-image's mouth. A bit too strange. Sniper actually hoped Spy did change disguise. Or drop it altogether.

"Lean forward." Spy-Sniper leaned towards Sniper as well.

Sniper hesitated. Then slowly did as he was asked. Just think of it like looking at yourself in the mirror when you shave. "What are you up to?" he questioned, unable to see Spy's eyes behind the faux sunglasses of the disguise. Damnit, his own wardrobe used against him.

Spy-Sniper leaned forward and gave Sniper a small kiss on the lips. It made a -smeck- sound.

Sniper froze, unable to think clearly. Spy had kissed him. Disguised as himself. Half of him wanted to relish in being kissed by Spy and pull him close for another, longer kiss. Half of him wanted to slap Spy for being disguised as him at the time. No. There was an easy solution. Sniper caught the back of Spy-Sniper's head and gave him a kiss, closing his eyes.

Spy enjoyed it for many, many reasons. Sniper was kissing him, nice. Sniper was kissing him while he was his exact double, both amusing and arousing at the same time. Spy began to list the other reasons in his mind until the pain in his gut swelled again. Dying would be a mood killer, wouldn't it? Spy ignored it for the time being, reaching up to hold Sniper's wrist.

Sniper leaned closer as Spy put a hand over his wrist, his other arm curling around Spy's shoulders. Even though Spy was disguised, it felt just like the other time they had kissed. He briefly forgot about the first aid box right next to them, too easily entranced by Spy's lips.

Spy's other hand trailed up to adjust the paper mask hanging off the side of his head. It needed to stay there, that was just too funny to him. Spy moaned slightly-- it turned into a groan. Oh son of a whore, maybe that bullet nicked an organ. An organ that was a little pocket of doom, just spilling into his body. He imagined it and suddenly this kiss wasn't appealing any longer.

Sniper pulled away at the sound which had been pleasing at first, then worrying. Oh fucking hell - the wound. He kept his arm around Spy's shoulders and leant back, using his other hand to drag the box closer. It still was strange to look back at himself, especially after a kiss. But think about that later. "What I'm gonna do might sting..."

Spy reached up and yanked off the paper mask. "Yoooou kissed yourseeeelf." He then cried out unexpectedly. "Pardon the outburst. But. I am going to die." See you on the other side of respawn, you sexy nurse. Actually, Sniper would make a shite nurse.

Sniper wisely ignored the first sentence. He'd wring Spy's neck after he'd tried to save him. Respawning meant that Spy would be able to avoid him by dying. "Not yet you're not!" Sniper roughly pulled up Spy's layers of clothes, pressing a cool, wet cloth against the wound to mop away the blood so he could see the injury better.

"Why, you're not done with me?" Heh. Spy was getting a little bolder, knowing that in a few minutes he'd probably keel over.

"Far from it." Sniper said lowly, concentrating on Spy's stomach. Single bullet wound - might have nicked something, or hit an artery. Either way, there’d been too much blood loss. Why had the damn idiot decided against calling for the doc?

"Oh fuck it, it is all a mess in there. Before I go though," So cavalier, like he was off for the night and this wasn't kind of a big deal, "Tell me, what would you do if I weren't hurt?" Talk dirty to the man, it was his dying wish.

"After that stunt of yours?" Sniper could tell that he wasn't going to be able to heal Spy. Too much time had passed, not forgetting however long it took him to find him. And Spy clearly wasn't fighting for his own damn life. So, may as well have a tiny slice of fun before Spooky escaped his grasp. He gently pushed Spy so he was flat on his back, Sniper hovering over him. "Probably would’ve had to strip you of that disguise.” There was heavy emphasis on ‘strip’ and the last three words were mumbled, if that.

Spy chuckled, it was more wet sounds than anything else. On his back now, he felt slightly more comfortable. Slightly. "You did not like that?”

"Well, I see it everyday, don't I? I prefer this." He stroked a finger down Spy's masked cheek.

"You prefer a mask?" That opened up some strange doors. Spy would like to go on and on about what a weirdo Sniper was, but he didn't.

"No. I prefer you." Sniper would personally love to rip off that mask but he wasn't sure what would happen after that. Especially if it turned out that Spy was bald, or had scales.

"Do not take it off my cold, dead body, oui? That would be..." And just like that, he was gone. Nothing new though, right?

Had Spy read his mind? Sniper shook his head and stood up - the body would vanish soon enough, along with the blood. He wanted Spy there when he finally got to take off that balaclava. Where was the fun in stripping a corpse? He packed up the first aid kit and put it in a corner - might be useful in the future. Then Sniper left the perch swiftly - too late to get in anymore kills but he could grab the showers first.

----

Sniper wandered around the base, almost ghostlike. It was dark and unlike BLU, RED didn't like to waste money on electricity for lights when the majority of the base was asleep. The power could be tripped on, but Sniper didn't need it. He often patrolled the base at this time, exploring the areas he couldn't when he was working in some hidey-hole on the top floor.

Spy died. Nothing outside of the ordinary for either base. He died and it was painful and he was reborn to do it all over again. Respawn sometimes took minutes, sometimes hours. Figures it would take hours after that encounter with Sniper. When Spy respawned, he was fully dressed and fully healthy. Disoriented at first, but then he slowly figured out where he was and what happened. Then, he felt hungry. With a sigh, Spy left the room and walked out into the base. Everyone was asleep, which meant no one was around to cook for him.

Sniper was already in the kitchen, still with no lights on. He got by with just the moonlight to illuminate the room, making himself a coffee easily and without spilling anything. After you've done a few sniping jobs at night, especially in the outback where the dingoes had sharper vision than you, it was nearly the same as daylight. Just with more shadows and more tones of pale blue in the light you did get. He heard someone approach and looked to the doorway.

Ah, what a surprise. "I'm usually up this time of night. Did you have a long respawn or something?" The kettle had boiled, so Sniper returned to making his drink as he spoke.

It was kind of embarrassing. To die in someone's arms, only to see them after you respawn. It was like having a dirty dream about someone and seeing them at breakfast. Or fucking someone's mother and then running into them on the way out the window. "Oui. I would not mind a cup of tea." Spy sat at the table and made himself comfortable.

Sniper nodded, making the requested beverage for Spy. He remembered some long respawns he'd had to endure. He didn't mention what had happened earlier that day - that was just a bit awkward. They didn't generally get too cosy and when they did, they didn't bring it up again. It was just how things worked with Spy and Sniper. The latter put a cup of tea in front of Spy and took a seat himself with his coffee.

Spy decided to let the tea cool. He didn't even really want it that much; he just wanted Sniper to make it for him. He turned the mug this way, and then that way. "I will not be able to sleep now."

"Respawning keeps you awake?" Sniper asked, setting his mug down on the table. Respawn was a funny thing. For some people, it made them sleepy. For others, it made them nauseous. And for some others, it made them more alert. Looks like Spy was the latter.

"Feels like I just woke up from a deep sleep." Spy didn't care how it affected others, just how it affected him. "What do you usually do this time of night?"

"Whatever I want." Normally nobody was around to give him a reason to watch his behaviour or give him company, so Sniper did what he wanted. Stole booze, read books left around. Most often, he went for walks outside. He knew how dangerous that open space was during the day, but at night it was perfectly safe and calm.

"Sounds like a plan." Did Spy mean that he was going to join him? Yes. But did he care if Sniper figured that out? No.

Sniper felt the question of what Spy would like to do dance by his tongue. But he kept it in. Knowing Spy, he'd claim to go socialising in some club that rose out the sand when you said the password. "Right then." He drank up his coffee and put the mug in the sink. Whoever's turn it was on the rota could deal with it. <

140 .

Just to Make Myself Attractive to You, part two of four


Sniper's eyes fully opened. Oh piss. He looked for the source of the noise, trying to make out Spy's shadow in the dark. He pulled on his wrists and ankles but nope. No running away or avoiding Spy now.

Spy sat on the end of the bed, between Sniper's feet. His back was facing Sniper and he didn't turn. His voice echoed off the wall, sounding empty and far away when he spoke, "Good evening."

Sniper felt extremely nervous. Not only was he trapped, Spy seemed cold. Maybe angry or hurt. "Hey Spy."

"You are not telling me to get out?" Oh! Interesting!

"No." He had told Spy to leave because it had been too much - feeling like shit and hearing what had happened. Now his head was largely clear, he could concentrate on this.

"What is wrong with you?" That question could be answered a few different ways and Spy would accept any of them.

Sniper wished that Spy would turn around. Just to give some clue as to what that question meant. No - he'd have to guess. "I was...jealous." He looked anywhere that wasn't Spy and said the next part much quieter. "And hurt."

He liked that answer. He liked it a lot. "No, I mean, why are you here?"

"Medic forced me." As if that wasn't obvious by the straps he was in. Sniper didn't even want to know why they were already there, before he was dragged in.

"How are you now?" If Sniper could see, Spy's teeth were showing in a wicked little grin.

"A lot better. Just uncomfortable." There was no point in lying to Spy. Or maybe it was the drugs. What had he been filled with anyway?

Spy turned, pulling his leg up onto the bed. His shoe touched Sniper's foot through the blanket. "And how do you feel towards me, now?"

There was a slight pause as Sniper gathered his thoughts. "Nervous. Hurt." Sniper tried to bite back his tongue but it was all coming out. Bloody Medic. "Wanting."

Spy moved his hand under Sniper's blanket. He laid his gloved hand on Sniper's ankle. "Wanting what?"

"Wanting you." His tone was nothing but sincere, reflecting the statement. "Wait, what the hell did Medic put in me?" he asked aloud. He wouldn't say all this so easily normally!

"I do not know, but it is interesting. Wanting me to what?" The visit was taking a delightful, unforeseen direction. Spy decided to milk it for what it was worth.

Sniper really did bite his tongue this time but he couldn't resist. "I want you as we were by the bridge." He turned his head away, looking to one of the walls.

"So you want to be naked with me?" Spy's face would be hurting from all the GODDAMN GRINNING he was doing. What was that Medic gave him? HE'LL HAVE TO ASK. A+, would use again!

"Yeah." Sniper was going to find Medic, pump him full of this crap and lock him in a very small cupboard with Heavy. Although the bastard would love that. Damnit.

"I like this game!" Spy's hand on Sniper's ankle moved up to his knee, slowly and deliberately. "And then what?"

Sniper closed his eyes, biting his lip. Damnit. Spy was loving this little scenario and he half didn't want to resist because he had missed Spy and half really didn't want to end up telling Spy all this! But the drugs decided which side won. "And then I'd want to touch you."

Spy made a small sound of disappointment. His hand was now on Sniper's thigh. How did that get there? "Where?"

"Everywhere." Sniper let his head fall back onto the pillow in defeat. "Your shoulders down your arms, your chest and back down to your stomach and arse, down your thighs and legs then back up to your hips and cock."

Spy squeezed Sniper's thigh. He sounded victorious, "Isn't that nice? We will have to arrange that."

Sniper's eyes snapped open and he lifted his body up best as he could. "Wh...what?" Was Spy teasing? Please don't tease like that darling (He didn't think darling. He really didn't).

Spy's hand toyed with the hem of Sniper's shorts. "You heard me."

Sniper gulped. "Don’t tease like that darling." Wait. Did he just--?

That was precious. "I will tease all I want."

Sniper bit his lip again, trying to keep his mind blank in case anything else tumbles out.

Spy decided to press a little harder. "You want to fuck me?"

"Yes." There wasn't even a pause. Sniper looked at Spy's eyes as he said this, his expression just as clear as to what he'd like.

Spy looked... slightly interested in this. "Hard? Go on, tell your little ghost friend."

Sniper wished he could wheedle his way out of this through technicalities. ’He’s not my little ghost friend.’ But drugs don't seem to recognise that. And neither did his blood. "Like I'm trying to drive you through the floor."

Spy's stomach dropped. But Sniper would never know. "Oh, that sounds a little rough. Are you rough, dear?"

"Yes. I can be." The 'I can be' was added on to the growl that was the yes. Sniper felt himself begin to care less and less about being coaxed into this. It wasn’t as if he could resist at any rate.

Spy's hand travelled up. He had to lean forward a bit. "Are you hard? Do not lie now, I will check!"

"Yes." Sniper can't remember saying yes so many times in a single evening in his life.

"Oh, I should not check?" Spy was so near laughing. This was wonderful. Delicious.

You probably should." Sniper tested the straps on his wrists. Could he pull himself free? Then he could reach the damn tease - they'd been talking long enough!

Spy snickered. His hand ghosted (ho ho) over the front of Sniper's shorts. "Oh! You were not lying."

Sniper's hands balled into fists as he resisted the urge to thrust upwards into Spy's hand. "I don't seem to be able to lie tonight."

"Oh dear dear. What should I ask, then?" Spy's hand was a light touch; every now and then he would begin to grip-- but stop. Spy leaned his head back, thinking. "I believe I have gotten all the information I wanted out of you..."

Sniper's nails were digging into the palms of his hands and even his toes curled slightly. Don't move, don't thrust, don't squirm, don't shudder! Bloody teasing Spook.

"Have you missed me, cher?" That was a stupid question. Too late now. He wanted to know.

"Yes!" The first word was exclaimed but the rest, "...I did miss you", was spoken more softly.

"Then stop being away." That was simple. "Tell me, Sniper, about the next time we are alone?" At the last word, Spy squeezed Sniper's cock through his shorts.

Sniper couldn't resist jerking his hips at that squeeze, mouth opening wordlessly. He found his tongue though. "Next time we're alone...I'm going to strip you first. Get everything off you so I touch all I want."

Spy turned his hand palm-up. His fingers gently rolled Sniper's balls through the material. "You have this all planned out? Have you thought of this before?" Better yet, "Have you pleasured yourself to the thought of me?"

Sniper wondered what he did to some deity to deserve this. He couldn't suppress a shudder at how Spy's fingers worked. "Not really planned out, but I have thought about it. And I have." Not too often, he isn't a complete wanker.

Spy was enjoying this-- who wouldn't? He liked to hear these things about himself, liked to hear them in Sniper's voice, "So after you strip me?"

Sniper shifted slightly, holding back a sound in his throat. "I'd take a good look at you - would probably have you on the floor so you wouldn't be able to disappear - and I'd touch you. Not just with my hands." Sniper could see the question coming and decided to jump the gun. "With my mouth."

"Would I like it, Sniper? Would I be ..." Spy's voice just then sounded a little lusty, breathy, "Moaning for you, begging you?" It was almost cruel, wasn't it?

"I'd make you beg." Sniper voice was a bit deeper at that. He spoke with conviction, as if he was making a serious promise.

Spy shifted. It was starting to get to be too much. He brought his hand away, out from under the blanket. It was possible Sniper wouldn't be able to see Spy adjusting the situation with his pants. "You would have me take my mask off?"

Sniper's body tensed slightly as Spy removed his hand. "...I'd want that. If you didn't touch it, I'd try and get it off." Was that the right answer? It didn't matter; the drugs prevented him from lying anyway.

"Do you think that would make a difference?" Spy didn't like where his brain was taking him, but it was taking him there. "Do you think that I can be something different, for you?"

"I think I want to see what's there." He did. He really did. He paused as he tried to think of an answer for the second question, trying and failing to ignore the implication. "I think you'll be who you want to be."

"You want me even if I am so devious? You want me even after what I did to the BLU labourer? Do you really think I am any better than a common snake?" --Somehow, Spy's voice stayed stable throughout this tiny rant.

Sniper closed his eyes. Damn. It. "Why the hell do you think I was so avoidant of you after that? Yes, I want you! You're a damn sly python and if it was anyone else I would have bloody cut them the moment they said it, but it's you." And for some reason, Sniper couldn't do that to Spy.

"Sniper, do you think that something who lies, cheats, and steals could possibly love something else?" Spy's leg moved off the bed and once again, his back faced Sniper.

Sniper looked at Spy. Gulped and looked away. "Yes." Spy was going to tell him that he was wrong.

Spy stood, his weight was no longer felt on the bed. He moved around in the dark-- there was the sound of him cloaking again. But then Sniper would feel Spy's glove on his cheek, "That is so hopeful of you, mon trésor."

For a moment, Sniper looked disappointed. Then he felt the hand on his cheek and leaned towards it. "I know."

"Who knows, maybe you are right." The visit took a turn for the serious, didn't it? Spy wanted to change that. He trailed his hand down Sniper's jaw, his neck, his chest. As long as he moved slowly, he could stay invisible.

Sniper closed his eyes, so he could concentrate on Spy's gloved hand on his skin. He flexed subtly, as if to offer himself to the invisible man. Sniper felt at ease with Spy touching him, even if he couldn't see him.

The touch trickled down to Sniper's stomach, to the top of the blanket covering him. "I hope you are right to be hopeful, cher."

Sniper's chest clearly rose and fell as he breathed. "That makes two of us. Though - I think I'm right." He listened closely to Spy's voice, trying to picture where he was standing.

Spy picked the blanket up between two fingers and gently tugged it backwards. "Is that what you want? Love?" It was kind of silly, but if Sniper wanted it... maybe it could be arranged.

Sniper couldn't resist the drugs and Spy's accent and that touch. "Yes." he sighed, fully aware that he had no idea what could happen next.

Spy rested his hand on Sniper's recently uncovered stomach. The next question probably didn't need to be asked, but Spy could not resist. "Do you think you can find it out here in the desert?" Pause. "With a snake?"

Sniper opened his eyes slightly, looking at where Spy's hand would be, before shutting them again. "I hope I can."

Spy's touch disappeared. It was kind of silly, Sniper's little hopes and fantasies-- but what was more pathetic? The man tied up and under the influence of a drug, or the man goading him into telling all his secrets? The man prodding him through touch just to hear a kind word. Spy finally came forward with his own thoughts, "I think you are just lonely."

"I've never felt lonely until I met you." Sniper turned his head on the pillow, not opening his eyes. Out of everything he's told Spy so far tonight, this was the one he loathed to tell the most. It meant that Spy had sunk under his professional barrier and into his skin. He swallowed a little at the disappearance of Spy's touch.

Spy didn't like hearing this. He felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach. His only response was, "Oh..." What the fuck, is he actually feeling bad? It wasn't his fault the Sniper had gotten attached! "I think you need to rest, Birdy."

"I guess so. I need to sleep off this drug." Sniper turned and looked at where he thought Spy's face might be, the green eyes fully dilated to try and see in the dark. "Thanks. For coming to see me."

"Please do not thank me." Spy used Sniper and all Sniper can do is thank him?

"No. I appreciate it, even if you took advantage." Sniper looked at one of his restrained hands. "Although, I'd like to call in a favour while you're here."

Spy did not expect that. Not in the least bit. "A-- ahem, a favour? Go on."

"Get me out of these things." Sniper pulled on all four of the straps before relaxing again. He probably had marks from where he'd been twisting his limbs to try and somehow wiggle free.

"I do not know... Sniper, I somewhat prefer you this way..." But then the invisible hands were at the straps and gently undoing them.

"You like me laid out before you like this?" But the straps were coming off, first one wrist then the other. Bonza. He slowly pulled his arms free, sitting up.

Spy moved slowly, "Ankles too, pet?"

"If you don't mind letting me go. I don't think I'll end up in this sort of position again anytime soon." Not now he could return to his usual hiding places that Medic wouldn't check.

"You have to stay here." So calm, so patient. Do not fuck with him.

"On the bed?" Sniper asked, smiling a bit mischievously. His humour was returning to him. "So, you do like me with my limbs tied up at your mercy sir?"

Spy's hands stopped where they were, resting on one of Sniper's ankles. He was still unsure if this was a good idea. "Perhaps."

Sniper reached forward and quickly followed one of Spy's hands up his arm, darting over the chest and hooking a finger in Spy's tie. "Then maybe you should leave them for now." Sniper knew he wouldn't stick around long when he was released. He'd try and convince Spy to come to the perch, away from Medic's domain.

Spy was jerked forward. He quickly hit a button on his watch, becoming visible again. "You are getting a little handsy." Spy reached out and tried to shove Sniper backwards.

"Heh. Just want to make sure they still work." He let Spy push him, smiling. Getting forceful are we?

"You have seen that your hands still work, now lie down, shut up, and go to sleep." Spy stalked around the bed, stopping near where Sniper's head lay.

"Alright Mum." Sniper smirked sweetly at Spy, putting his hands on his stomach.

"I am not your mother. If I were..." Spy caught himself. He would not allow Sniper to get him all riled up. "I would not do this." Spy reached out and pinched Sniper's inner thigh. (Okay, a little riling wouldn't be so bad).

"Ah! Hey!" Sniper grabbed the wrist that had pinched him but he chuckled. The pinch wasn't that bad. "I didn't know you could be rough Spooky." Probably not as rough as Sniper himself but it was something.

"Let go of me!" Sniper went from helpless to cute to downright annoying. He needed to be taught a lesson. Spy jerked his arm away-- and then before even HE knew what he was doing, he had one leg over Sniper. Spy sat just below Sniper's waist, perfectly content with his position. "Now will you sit still?"

"Gladly." Sniper lay back and watched Spy with a little smirk, one hand on his stomach and the other resting on one of Spy's thighs. He definitely hadn't been expecting this but he wasn't going to complain.

"You are a horrible bastard, you know that? Look what you have made me do." Spy removed his gloves, tugging on the end of each finger slowly.

"What have I made you do?" Sniper asked, leaning his head up a bit. Earlier he had been completely at Spy's mercy, so maybe it was only fair he's managed to coax Spy into something now.

Spy took one of his gloves and used it to smack Sniper across the face. Not hard, but it was the thought that counted here. "Shh."

Sniper blinked. He'd just been slapped with a glove. Didn't that mean something? But the thought eluded him so he simply looked at Spy, a politely bewildered look on his face.

"Look what you made me do." That time it was more of a joke. Spy leaned forward and gave Sniper a small kiss on his lips, "Look what you made me do."

Sniper leaned forward and returned the kiss equally, giving Spy a small kiss on the lips too. "Look what you've made me do." And not just the little kiss.

Spy sat up, back straight. His mind wandered back to favours. "Do I owe you anything else?"

Sniper's thoughts wondered. He could think of many things Spy owed him, but what he wanted right now... "We're alone, aren't we?"

Spy couldn't find a reason to turn him down. "You cannot use your favours that way."

"Why not?" This wasn't unlike the annoying Spy he knew. Although Sniper was interested in hearing the excuse.

Spy started to speak and then stopped-- Then started again, "It is not fair."

Spy could not talk about fair. Sniper leaned forward, his arms ensnaring Spy. "How is it unfair, darl?" he asked directly against Spy's ear, his warm breath drifting through the fabric of the mask.

Spy turned his head, hoping Sniper wouldn't hear the tiny, high pitched sound that came from the back of his throat. "Unhand me, you brute."

"You sure that's what you want?" Sniper slowly dragged his hands from behind Spy's back to his arms, circling them with his fingers in a hold.

Spy didn't dare speak. "I was asking the questions here."

"Well, if it’s what you want..." Sniper leaned away from Spy slowly, settling back on his elbows and looking at Spy with a defiant, playful look. This was fun. Sniper was already feeling much, much better, up to his usual games with Spy.

It actually wasn't what he wanted. Spy looked slightly disappointed when Sniper let him go. "Now I have you, I do not know what to do with you."

"What do you want to do with me is the real question there." Sniper stayed where he was, watching Spy curiously. His body language was basically saying that if Spy wanted, Spy could have. Although Sniper would be using his favour tonight.

"I told you, I am asking the questions." But yet... he wasn't asking any questions, was he? Just dodging Sniper's.

"You haven't asked anything yet. How about this," Sniper sat up, casually leaning towards Spy. "You can either ask a question, or do me a favour."

"I would first like to hear what this favour would be." Spy's smile was pointy and sharp sharp sharp.

"Strip." Sniper ran a finger down Spy's front, following the line of his tie. Then his hand retreated and he smiled at Spy.

"If, very if, I do that, you cannot touch." Because Spy is a horrible, horrible bastard.

"I won't promise anything. You know how my hands do what they want." And they will.

"Sit back." Spy began to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt.

Sniper obeyed, deciding to test his willpower. How long could he endure before he simply had to touch Spy?

Spy removed his jacket. He then untangled his shirt from his arms and from under his tie. He wanted to keep it on; it would be a shiny beacon of temptation if Sniper wanted to grab him. (He tells Sniper no, but then leaves all these delightful little weapons out for him). "Is this enough?"

"No." Sniper's eyes roamed over Spy's chest, absorbing the sight. The fingers on one of his hands moved idly. He raised his hand and pointed at Spy's trousers.

"What, these old things?" Spy wanted to hear Sniper say it. SAY IT.

"Yeah. Get them off." Now. Or Sniper will be made to get more handsy.

"Is that part of the agreement?" Spy put his weight on his knees, taking it off of Sniper's body.

"Do you stop playing strip poker at this point?" Sniper asked. Did Spy play strip poker? Maybe if he rigged the deck so he couldn't lose.

"Could you give me a bit of assistance? Just the buttons there, they always give me such a problem." He just wanted to see if Sniper could stop there.

Sniper sat forward again, reaching for the buttons. He undid them, a sly finger sometimes stroking past the trousers to the next layer of fabric. "Need anything else?" His hands stayed in a safe zone, falling back from the buttons and resting on Spy's legs.

"Non." Spy then moved a little awkwardly, a little shakily, as he stood up on the bed. His feet still stayed on either side of Sniper. He took his time peeling his trousers down around his hips. "More?"

Now that was a sight. Sniper nodded, seemingly to himself. "If you'd be so kind." He let his hands slide down Spy's legs, resting behind his knees. Don't tease like this darling...or else.

"You will have to remove your hands, cher." Spy guided the material down his thighs and stopped at his knees. He then raised his left foot and shook the rest of the pant leg off. "Do you really think this is kind?"

Sniper's hands dropped so they rested behind Spy's feet, not touching him. "Not really. But you're doing it, aren't you?" Proof that manners can get you what you want.

Spy's hand assisted in removing the last few inches of fabric, he quickly tugged off his shoe in the process. "I do not mind. I can leave anytime I want. You wanted this." He repeated the whole thing for the right side, letting the shoe and pants drop off to the side of the bed. There Spy stood, on top of the mattress, bare except for socks, tie and boxer shorts.

Sniper looked at Spy. The man was, quite simply, handsome. His skin was completely untouched, undamaged (at least from the front); with lithe muscles clear under the pale flesh. Sniper realised that he needed to swallow and did so, as discretely as he could. "I do want this." But he made his hands behave. For now.

"This?" Spy smirked. He was really jerking off his ego tonight. He raised one foot and placed it on Sniper's chest. He wore dark, rust-colored socks held up by garters just below his knees.

Sniper leaned forward, taking his as an invitation and brushed his lips against the garters holding up his socks. In truth, he had never seen them before and they were very...interesting. And Spy had told him to not use his hands.

Spy would be lying if he said he didn't like this turn of events. "When you are done with that one, there is another for you." Spy shifted his weight, switching one foot for the other to rest on Sniper's chest.

Evidently Spy had no complaints with his behaviour. "What are these?" Sniper asked before lowering his lips to the offered foot, pulling back the elastic with his teeth and letting it go so it snapped against Spy.

"Garters, they hold my socks up. Stop that." Spy used his toes to push Sniper's face back.

"Why should I?" Sniper turned his head and moved his head to avoid Spy's push, so his question was brushed against the sock.

Spy's foot rested on Sniper's collarbone now. "Because I said so. You are under me, I am afraid."

Sniper's hands shot into action now. Both grabbed Spy's legs just under the knee and pulled, dislodging Spy's feet from under him. He leaned over Spy as because he could, limited by the straps on his ankles. He smirked smugly. "Things can change."

"They could." Spy wanted to threaten now, "I could leave." He both hated how easily Sniper could shake him, and he also really... really liked it.

That got rid of Snipers smirk. He sighed. "Alright, I'll be good." He put his hands behind his back, as if showing that he wouldn't push Spy around anymore.

"You are supposed to be resting." Spy righted himself. But instead of standing again, he went back to his original seat on Sniper's thighs.

"And?" Sniper asked. He would point out that Spy wasn't meant to be there, but he might take that as a suggestion that he should leave. Instead he leaned back, hands behind his head and rested on the bed. "Here. Is this better?"

"Oui." Oh, so much better. Sniper was a smug, beautiful son of a bitch. Spy leaned forward and placed a kiss in the left-center of Sniper's chest.

Sniper slipped his arms from behind his head. That felt nice. One of his hands rested next to Spy’s, not quite touching, as he let out a tiny exhale at the motion.

Spy raised his head and grinned at Sniper. "I like to hear you..." Lowering his face to Sniper's chest once again, he flicked his tongue over Sniper's nipple.

Sniper made a surprised but clearly 'happy' noise at that. He slid an arm over Spy’s back, feeling an odd change in texture - just able to see over him, Sniper could make out a burn scar – the stubborn git had refused to see Medic after the Pyro attack. It fascinated him but his fingers twitched as Spy kept pressing against his chest. "I like it when you do that." is all Sniper could moan.

Spy scraped his teeth over Sniper's nipple. "I want to hear you make all sorts of undignified noises."

Sniper groaned throatily. Like that sort of sound? His hand brushed over the burn and wrapped around Spy, pressing their nearly naked bodies against each other.

"Sniper. I cannot stay here." Something spooked the Spook. Sniper pulling him close brought him to the realization that they were still in public. Sniper was still sick. This would have to suffice as an apology.

Sniper paused, quickly catching with Spy when he remembered his surroundings. "Alright. But untie my ankles, before you go." Sniper didn't want to have to hang around here either - maybe he could convince Medic he was Houdini if he was found and questioned about his disappearance.

Spy rose from his seat-- his attractive, Australian seat and began to pull on the essential parts of his clothing. Spy decided to carry his shoes and stuff his gloves into his pockets. "You will rest, if I untie you?"

"In my perch. Promise." He couldn't rest outside his comfort zone and this was not his comfort zone. Well, it had been with Spy sitting in his lap, but he wasn't there anymore.

Spy shrugged and unstrapped Sniper's ankles. "You promised." Spy then perked up like a startled cat. "Goodnight, cher." The door moved on what seemed its own, Spy's shadow left the room and it was replaced by the sound of Medic's jackboots.
Sniper froze. Oh shit. Could he hide? He grabbed his trousers and pulled them up quickly, planning to abandon the rest of his clothes. Maybe he could outrun Medic? Just run out the door and leg it to safety.

Medic's boots stopped outside the door. He peeked into the room, "Are you sleeeeeping?"

Sniper did the most sensible thing. He ducked under the bed and said nothing.

Medic looked at the empty bed, with his hands on his hips. This was ridiculous! He'll have to wake up Heavy now! He did a quick-about-face and left.

If this wasn't an opportunity then nothing was or ever would be. Sniper waited for three seconds then bolted for the door, opening it quickly (but carefully enough to make sure it didn't slam) and ran for his perch.

-----------

Sniper sat in his perch, hiding chocolates in with his biscuits. He wasn't going to give it all away when Scout started trick and treating! He never quite understood the American fascination with Halloween...but it was a good laugh either way. So far he had been able to avoid Medic too, which was a good reason to celebrate. He still remembered the year he was scared stiff by some story involving ghosts and drop bears quite fondly. Mostly because he got revenge on his friend by convincing him that he was cursed.

Earlier in the evening, Spy stuck his head in Sniper's perch. He announced that he would be coming back later (at least after dark) and that Sniper should be waiting. His exact words were, "Be a good boy, have some alcohol set aside for me, and I'll tell you a little ghost story."

The BLU base had several scares in the past few hours since it got dark. There was someone invisible sneaking up behind them and being generally annoying, all their toilet paper being stolen, and one of each of their socks being flushed down the toilets. Once there was water everywhere and a Pyro trolling the halls with his flamethrower, Spy felt his job was done. The finishing touches were tossing all the toilet paper he stole over the bridge several times. It was all very beautiful, the horribly thin and scratchy paper cascading over the bridge like spider-webs or party streamers... or like stolen toilet paper from a military base adoring a bridge. Spy was already a little tipsy. One has to drink a bit to get into the Halloween spirit fully around these parts. That and it was liquid courage, once that Pyro started patrolling. Spy crossed over the decorated bridge for the last time that night, and headed to Sniper's perch.

Sniper had seen Spy decorate the bridge and he couldn't help chuckling. However, he had broken one of his little rules and had grabbed his rifle - just in case the BLU's noticed Spy and weren't happy with his way of celebrating Halloween. When Spy returned safely, Sniper put the rifle away and waited patiently for his guest, having collected the requested booze and some sweets for the evening. He ate and drank only a little (one beer and two sweets) to pass the time, wondering what sort of ghost story Spy would tell. And what sort of ghost story would scare Spy.

Spy stayed cloaked when he entered the room. Of course he did. It was a habit, plus it was Halloween! He sat on a crate in the corner and very quietly whistled.

Sniper sat up, looking around carefully. He stood and held his hand out the window - no wind. He glanced around the room, slowly inching his way towards the source of the noise. As he approached the crate, he knelt and pressed an ear to it, wondering if a certain someone was hidden inside.

Spy smirked. He gently placed his gloved hand on Sniper's hat. He raised the hat-- slowly slowly slowly, off of Sniper's head. Spy whistled again, the random tuneless sound he usually uses to spook people when he's toying with them.

Sniper froze when he felt his hat levitate off his head. He looked up at the hat, genuinely surprised but he wasn't scared! No, he really wasn't. Even if that tune was creepy. Sniper reached up to force it to sit on his head. When he did, he felt his hand clasp over an invisible hand. His entire air relaxed at that as Sniper looked deadpan at where he thought Spy would be. "If you wanted my hat, you could just ask."

"Why would I do a thing like that?" Spy didn't pull his hand away. He stayed invisible. It felt safer and it was highly possible he was just too lazy at the moment.

Sniper kept his hand on top of Spy's, just in case his hat went flying off again. "Same reason you had a little fun in the BLU base tonight." he smiled at Spy mischievously, like a boy who's seen his older cousin get away with something. He shifted so he was more comfortable, still kneeling in front of Spy as his other hand roamed over the side of the crate, trying to find Spy.

"Jealous?" Spy wondered why he hadn't invited Sniper-- oh that's right. He works alone. Last year, Scout wanted to go and that was nearly a disaster. Spy leaned away from the wandering hand. "Shoo, get!"

"Nah mate. I'll get 'em when they're not expecting it." Everyone expects stuff like this on Halloween. Maybe around Christmas would be a more surprising time. Sniper drew back his hand at Spy's shooing. "Oh, don't want to show yourself?" His hand then darted forward, trying to grab at Spy now as Sniper still wore his childish smile.

Spy yanked his hand from the hat and began to wiggle. "Non, non, do not touch me, filthy jar man-ahahaha stop that."

Sniper sprung forward, using both hands to poke, grab and tickle at the air where he perceived Spy to be. "What was that? Doesn't non mean yes?" Sniper knew it didn't.

"Oui, it means-- non, it means non!" Spy then tumbled from the crate to the floor. He instantly became visible again. He huffed and sat up.

Sniper smiled smugly and sat down, reaching behind him. He brought forward the alcohol and offered one to Spy, taking another for himself.

Spy sniffed. "What is this?"

"Some of Demo's whiskey. Bloke's got the best alcohol round here." Sniper took a swig of it himself. He had some of the beer Engie was usually drinking but it wasn't up to Demo's supply.

"I suppose this will do." Spy then drank (quite a bit) as if he weren't so put off by it in the first place. "Are you ready for a ghost story, or do you want to play grabass some more?"

Sniper raised an eyebrow at the interesting name for (what he would call) a very brief game of Hide and Seek. "Let's hear the story." They could play 'grabass' some other time.

"I hope it will scare the pants off of you." Aha, what a funny joke. What a joker that Spy can be. Spy took his seat back on the crate and took a rather large gulp of the stolen whiskey. "There was once... a little French boy." He wiggled his fingers.

A little French boy. Well, Sniper was expecting the story to be connected to them somehow ("There was once a savage bushman...There was once a suave Spy...") but he hadn't expected a little French boy. He moved and sat next to Spy on the crate, rather than by Spy's legs, so he could see and hear the assassin better.

"When the little boy was born, his mother left him with nuns for the first several weeks of his life. Then she decided she might as well care for the thing and came back for him. However, she changed her mind again. He was given to an uncle of sorts." Spy made a vague gesture with his fingers at the word uncle. Maybe they were air quotes, maybe he was getting a little sloppy. "That uncle gave him a knife and taught him to steal..."

This was a very odd Halloween story. Hell, at the moment it didn't even appear to be a ghost story. Sniper watched Spy carefully, drinking measured amounts of his whiskey.

"Yadda yadda yadda, school of hard knocks and that. I am bored of this story. Anyway, eventually Reliable Excavation Demolition hired that boy." Spy padded his pocket for his cigarette case. "It was a story about a ghost, was it not?"

Sniper blinked. Was that true? And hadn't they gone over this? The ghost business? "I told ya, you're not a ghost." He took more whiskey. Tonight his vice was alcohol. Tomorrow he'll wake up with a hangover and it'll be cigarettes.
Spy fabricated a story about his childhood for you, Sniper! Does that mean nothing to you? "I do not believe you."

"Why not?" Sniper wore a confused frown on his face. It hid his underlying concern about Spy's history. It was extremely vague but from the little bit he was told, it didn't sound too pleasant.

It was extremely vague due to the fact he made it up while he was on the floor. "I do not know." Spy looked away, feeling a little dizzy and irritable. "Prove it."

Sniper felt a slight buzz due to the alcohol. Probably tipsiness was settling in. So he slung an arm around Spy's shoulders and leaned on him, resting his head on Spy's shoulder. "If you were a ghost, I couldn't do this." Sniper would've fallen right through Spy and landed on the floor.

Spy liked where this was going. He decided to milk it a bit more. "What else could you not do if I were a ghost?"

Sniper chuckled, taking another swig of whiskey and rearranging himself, so Spy was sitting in-between his legs with Sniper sitting behind him. Sniper pulled at Spy's collar until he could press a kiss to the skin under the clothing, just away from the mask. "This." he said simply, lips brushing against Spy's skin.

"What are you, what is this..." Spy tried to look behind him, at Sniper's movements. The kiss caught him off guard. He even gasped. "That?"

"Yes, this." Sniper kissed the back of his neck again, the arm that had originally been placed around Spy's shoulders now curling around his front. Sniper smiled and held back a laugh at how Spy reacted, instead kissing Spy's skin again. So soft.

Spy liked being the sneaky one. He didn't know how well he enjoyed this role reversal-- oh who was he kidding? This felt good and he was kind of drunk anyway, so he could blame it on that later. "I am not so sure I understand, do it again?"

Sniper obliged, kissing Spy again but using his teeth to nip and faintly scrape against the skin this time. He curled slightly against Spy. It was rare for Spy to not vanish when he initiated something, so this was a nice treat for him. Even if they were both drinking, but that gave him a light-headed feel.

Halloween was a time to dress up and be something other than yourself. Spy dressed up every day and was something other than yourself. Maybe tonight he could be ... whoever the hell he actually was. "Help me with this?" Spy began to untuck his mask from the collar of his shirt.

Sniper lifted his head, looking at the back of Spy. Was he...? Sniper put down his whiskey and slowly began to help Spy with removing the mask from his shirt, pulling it at the back. He kept one arm around Spy and periodically gave the newly exposed skin soft kisses, as he had been doing.

Spy unbuttoned the top of his shirt and yanked the mask free. He then pulled on the fabric at his nose and pulled it all forward --and off. Underneath, was it so much of a surprise to see a hooky, beaky nose or pale skin or dark circles under his eyes? He turned his head to catch a glimpse of Sniper behind him.

Sniper shifted, leaning to the side so he could see Spy's face better. He took off his sunglasses so he could see him more clearly and raised a hand. He stroked Spy's cheek almost wonderingly with the back of his fingers, before his hand rose and stroked back Spy's messy hair. He knew this wasn't the alcohol messing with his head or talking for him. "You're a real beauty."

Spy's hairline was attempting to recede. His hair was dark, almost black and it seemed a little dirty. To be fair, it was slicked under a mask most of the time. Spy's mouth twitched as he tried to hide a smile. "A beauty? Heh."

"Yeah." Sniper didn't see the defects are acutely as Spy did. Jet black, slightly long hair, soft white skin, striking blue eyes and sharply defined features...Sniper found Spy attractive. He drew close to Spy and began to kiss him, starting on his cheek and moving over Spy's face.

Spy then fought the urge to pull away. Be yourself; let yourself have what you want. Normally, he'd pull away and do a little dance to the other side of the room. At that moment, he slung his leg over one of Sniper's to turn towards him more, embrace him, and kiss him back.

Sniper put his arms around Spy, one hand immediately reaching up Spy's back for his hair, threading through it gently. His fingers flexed as Sniper kissed over all the skin that was usually hidden from the world, before moving over Spy's lips and kissing him there. Normally he would linger, wait for some sign from Spy - but whiskey put a limit on his usual patience.

Spy welcomed the kiss, leaning into it hungrily. He could taste alcohol and something chocolately and Sniper himself and he felt he could not possibly get enough. Spy's fingers began to scrape gently at Sniper's vest, like an animal unable to comprehend how it was captured.

Spy tasted of whiskey, some other drink, cigarettes and Spy. And it was all addictive. Sniper responded just as eagerly, stroking Spy's back as he used his tongue to stroke Spy's. He leaned closer to Spy so their bodies pressed against each other.

If Scout decided to come calling right now, Spy would strangle the life out of him. It was almost expected this point. The anticipation of an interruption was killing him. He almost didn't know where to go from here. As time went on and they continued to kiss, Spy moaned, an indication that he was letting himself get wrapped up in this.

Sniper often forgot to think when he was with Spy like this. It was as if Spy stole all his thoughts and put them in some box, which was only returned to him afterwards, usually after an interruption. And if they were interrupted now, he was pretty sure he'd cut something vital on their person. But as they were currently safe, he lowered his lips from Spy's to kiss his throat, occasionally biting and sucking and licking.

This whole situation made him feel kind of ridiculous. His face felt warm and he felt a tug in his gut and all the blood was rushing between his legs and he was just waiting for something awful to happen. Sniper moved to his neck and Spy could only whisper, "I am sure ghosts cannot do this."

"Can't do what?" Sniper asked softly, slowly lifting his head from Spy's neck to look at him properly. His hands lowered reluctantly from their current positions to slide round to Spy's front, undoing Spy's jack and sliding it carefully off his shoulders, before returning to wrap around Spy's frame.

Spy found himself being undressed. Was he allowing himself to be overtaken by the moment or by Sniper himself? "Surely they can neck, with other ghosts or perhaps someone they are haunting, but..." Spy trailed off, finding himself far less clever than normal. He was thinking lusty thoughts and he figures that's where all his brain cells were working at the moment.

Sniper couldn't follow Spy's train of thought. He had enough problems trying to think himself. He felt so warm, with parts of his body flaring - mostly the parts where he and Spy were touching and his groin. Sniper kissed Spy on the lips. "I don't follow what you mean." He murmured, one hand untucking Spy's shirt and sliding up his back.

"I do not quite know myself, cher." He couldn't help but look down at the situation at Sniper's hands. "You are manhandling me a bit, Birdy."

"Should I stop?" Sniper drummed his fingers against Spy's skin, his spare hand sliding over Spy's side. Sniper had learnt that when Spy pointed something out, he wasn't (always) discouraging it, just making it clear that he was aware of it.

"I think you should manhandle me a little more, that is all." There. Clear permission in a firm voice. No joking around. "I think you could perhaps do whatever you want with me and I would not fight it one bit." That was a little on the fence, but it might as well be permission as well.

For a moment, Sniper's blood flared in his veins as he looked at Spy with an expression of pure, smouldering want. Then he kissed Spy passionately, hands immediately working on removing all the layers on Spy's torso. He knew what he wanted and he had permission to take it.

Slight surprise jumped from Spy's lips, "Oh." It was so fucking fascinating when Sniper stopped being a gentleman. He wanted to see Sniper growling and writhing. He wanted to get that out of him and he knew he could do it. (He hoped he could). He didn't help Sniper with his clothes, just moved here and there to twist out of his own.

The moment Spy's chest was bare, Sniper manoeuvred him off the crate and onto the floor. He wanted Spy flat on his back, laid out before him. He ran his hands over Spy's chest and sides, watching his fingers move with a focused, half-lidded expression before he leaned sharply forward and bit Spy's shoulder.

Spy's hands moved to Sniper's wrists. He wasn't holding him back, just holding on. At the bite, Spy's body went straight as a pole. "Do you like to hurt, hunter?"

Sniper chuckled, slightly darkly. He liked that nickname. "Just want to be sure I leave a mark." He licked and sucked at the flesh he had just bitten but there was definitely going to be a bruise there. Perfect.

"Do you think maybe someone else will be seeing it?" Oh, a jealous Sniper might just be too much to handle. It was like a challenge to himself!

“At the very least, you will." And you'll know exactly who gave it to you. "Maybe...you want it somewhere else?" Sniper twisted his hands so he held Spy's wrists and pinned them to the floor, trailing his lips over Spy's chest, that soft, untouched canvas. "Where would you like it, beauty?"

This behavior was shaking up Spy's snowglobe. His eyes went a little wide when his hands were suddenly over his head. He laughed, a little nervous and breathy, "What, and spoil the surprise?"

Sniper smirked then suddenly darted up Spy's skin to his neck, biting down on the opposite side to the earlier bite on Spy's shoulder. This man was goddamn delicious. If he became some sort of monster he knew Spy would be his favourite prey.

Spy arched and hissed. He attempted to compose himself and ask, "You have been holding this back all this time?"

"Have I?" Sniper asked, his tone a mixture of mild and lusty. When he smirked at Spy though, there was nothing mild about his gaze. He settled his weight on Spy's hips, slipping off his vest and taking off his t-shirt and undershirt.

"If you bottle something up too long, when it comes out..." It might just be terrifying. That anticipation of something going terribly wrong was back, and Spy didn't even realize he was trembling.

Sniper however, did notice. Tearing off his white shirt he pressed against Spy, bare, scarred chest to bare, unblemished chest. "Hey. Take it easy." He kissed Spy on the lips, still passionately but not roughly. He wasn't sure if Spy was talking about him, or himself.

"Oh, I am. I am just a little nervous you might kill me." Not completely true. Spy took the liberty of removing his own gloves and placed his hand on the back of Sniper's neck, pulling him close.

"Now, why would I do that?" Sniper was smiling though, letting himself be pulled in by Spy. One of his own hands cupped the back of Spy's head - the floor was hardly comfortable, what it?

While Sniper was distracted by Spy's somewhat out of character nervousness, Spy thought it was a good time to wrap his legs around his waist. "You are a little ... feral?"

Sniper nuzzled Spy's neck. He loved being called feral by Spy, although he couldn't say why. If anyone else called him an animal he'd be insulted. "Oh don't worry. I'm slightly tame." He did ask where Spy wanted to be bitten, didn't he? He grinded against Spy's hips as a pair of legs was wrapped around him.

"Oh- unffff... uh," Spy cleared his throat, somewhat ashamed of his vocal mistake. Stupid sexy Sniper and his stupid hips. "I prefer you this way."

"You do...?" Sniper kissed the skin he had been nuzzling, faintly using his teeth. He always thought that Spy would prefer him to act more gentlemanly, which was partly why he was more aware of his behaviour around him. Sniper slowly drifted down, kissing and nipping Spy's chest.

"I think this is more like you, Sniper. You are more free like this." He has freed himself for Sniper, he would like Sniper do to the same for him. And then he could not help but wonder if it was the alcohol that did the work for them. Identity crisis aside, he liked how everything lined up so nicely.

"I like you this way too. Free." Because Spy was being free. He wasn't holding back the way his body reacted, the little noises he would make. He wasn't even wearing his mask. Sniper lifted his head again, nipping Spy's lips and gently tugging him into another kiss.

Spy's other hand came up to Sniper's back and he was officially clinging to the other man with all his limbs. "Then why are we not doing this more often?" Seemed stupid that they wasted all that time standing around staring at each other.

Sniper hummed, still nipping Spy’s lips as he thought. It was a good question and his mind was still working slowly. “Well...” A soft kiss and a little sigh. He looked at Spy longingly. “Because we’re professionals.” And professionals have rules and regulations about how they should be.

"It could be our little secret. I am good at keeping those-- besides, I think you might have noticed I am a little intoxicated." Spy hoped that this wouldn't push Sniper away. It was okay, take advantage of him. However, Spy's legs slackened around Sniper's waist until his feet were planted firmly back on the ground. His body was starting to work against him, rather than for him.

"I'd like that...specially since I'm a bit drunk myself." Sniper pressed against Spy, lowering his head and resting it on Spy's chest as his body curled over him. It was so comfortable and warm - the flares of heat had given way to this gentle warmth. Sniper mentally and just audibly groaned. Too soon.

Spy got very quiet. By pointing out that he had a little too much to drink, Sniper realized it as well. Maybe he should just keep his mouth shut next time. Or, even better, "Only a bit? Maybe we should drink some more."

Sniper nodded against Spy's chest and wrapped his arms around his back. He slowly sat up, bringing Spy up with him, and grabbed two fresh drinks. He gave one to Spy and drank the other, more steadily than he had his earlier whiskey.

Spy bit his lip, again attempting to hide a grin. Sniper just moving him where he wanted him, it continued to put thoughts in his head. He watched Sniper drink. He wondered just how quickly they could be at each other again, at the rate he was drinking. Spy decided to keep his head about him, taking small gulps from his own bottle.

Sniper exhaled deeply. That was better. His thoughts became less coherent but his body was flaring up again, so he didn't feel as sleepy. He idly stroked Spy's chest, looking quite peaceful.

Spy let out a soft sound, somewhere between moan and a snicker. "You just get all boozed up, grope me like a teenager and now you are stroking me like a cat?" He said this as if he was insulted, but he was completely endeared. Mon dieu, was he endeared.

"Want me to hold you down again like a trapped dingo?" There was a slight bite to Snipers tone, but his smirk was good-natured. "If you don't like this, you seemed to like that." He leaned forward, licking the lovebite on Spy's shoulder and still stroking him.

Spy's eyes closed as Sniper leaned towards him. He tilted his head back and rasped out, "Salopard." It was becoming harder and harder to come up with witty banter. Was it the alcohol or was it Sniper's mouth that was making him about as articulate as their Scout?

Sniper leaned back and took another swig of his whiskey before putting it aside, giving Spy a look and licking his lips. He took hold of both Spy's shoulders and drew close again, biting and sucking on the join of Spy's neck and shoulder/chest.

Spy's breathing turned ragged. He turned his head away and arched up into Sniper's body. "What interesting results I get from insulting you. You horrible-camping-lazy-bastard." He was still playing a game, he couldn't stop himself. How easy it was, right then and there! Spy felt he could have Sniper begging. What was stopping him?

Sniper hadn't realised that he had been insulted. He only knew enough French to know that "yes", "no" and that "cher" was a term for a person. There was only a slight warning in how he gripped Spy's shoulders and how his own hunched up. Then he roughly pushed Spy backward, pinning him to the floor. "That so?" There was a slight growl there, but Sniper couldn't help it! He re-attached his teeth to Spy's neck, only holding back enough to not cause any real damage.

Spy continued to stay calm, enjoying the rate at which Sniper lost his cool. "That is so." He only paused to convince himself not to cry out at the warm mouth on his skin. "And I still want you. Do you want me, Sniper? Pretty bird? Assassin? Filthy convict?" He sounded calm but he felt desperate, what words would push the buttons he needed to push?

Sniper was very frustrated at losing his patience so easily but it was the price of drinking alcohol and being with Spy. His grip tightened on Spy's shoulders and he growled against the skin he had just tasted as he heard Spy talk in that stupid, alluring accent. "Fuck. Yes. I bloody want you." Both of Sniper's hands vanished from Spy's shoulders - one held him down by the base of his throat, the other shot for his trousers, grabbing roughly at them.

Spy finally raised his hands. In attempt to fight back, in a way. He quickly grabbed a fistful of Sniper's hair. His other hand grabbed Sniper's wrist at his pants. "Annnd what is it that you want from me? Be specific."

This was just getting to be too much. The names he could handle. At this point Spy could call him whatever the hell he wanted and Sniper would only push and press harder. But this was just teasing. He glared at Spy fierily but didn't challenge Spy's hold on him. "I want you, wearing nothing, squirming under me and screaming for me like I have the last fag to be had in this entire fucking desert."

Spy's voice gave nothing away, but his face did. His mouth stayed open, his eyes were a little glazed over. The fingers on Sniper's wrist gripped a little harder. "Squirming... under you. How do you think you'll accomplish that?"

Sniper's smirk was dark and predatory - it was a smirk he didn't often use. He leaned forward, not caring if Spy ripped out a clump of his hair. "I'll show you." he hissed into Spy's ear, breath ghosting over the shell. His other hand tore out of Spy's grasp and pulled at Spy's belt, undoing it quickly and grabbing the trousers to pull them down.

Sweet mother of Christ, what has Spy done? He has apparently gone too far. Sniper wouldn't be begging at all. Good Job, Spy, Sniper is going to ride you until you go insane. Well, it wasn't as if that were too bad of a thing. Spy gasped and shuddered at the careless pants-removal. Somehow, he wasn't expecting that. Sniper would find silk boxer shorts and an impressive erection for the blood alcohol concentration going on there. Don't stop now, you horrible bastard. "Well?"

Sniper had to pull back from Spy briefly to get rid of his own trousers. He took in all of Spy as he did, smiling hungrily. He liked what he saw, especially what he had uncovered this evening. Spy's face and now - Sniper curled his hand into a fist over the protrusion in Spy's silk boxers. "What's this Darl?" He kicked off his trousers, toying with Spy roughly, but not too roughly. "Heh. I always knew you'd be into silk."

Spy's eyes were nearly closed, just tiny slits and fluttering eyelashes. "I have no idea how that got there." He attempted to lift his head but everything was swimmy in his head when he did so. His one hand still had a deathgrip in Sniper's hair, the other travelled slowly over those scars once again. "So your daydreams were correct, then?"

"Nearly." In his 'daydreams', Sniper had never dared to picture Spy without the mask, just in case the vision didn't match reality. He lowered himself slightly, offering his body to Spy while still jerking him off through the silk. His spare hand rested on Spy's chest, feeling the heat and heartbeat. Only their boxers separated them now and the thought only heated Sniper up more.

Spy's fingertips followed the scar until it reached the waistband of his shorts. He dipped a finger in so that he could curl his hand against that sharp hipbone. "Nearly," Spy repeated.

Sniper squeezed Spy before letting go, his fingers dipping into the silk. He licked his lips. "This is more like it." He murmured, leaning forward and kissing and licking Spy's neck. However, Sniper hadn't envisioned a series of explosions from outside the room, sounding like a hybrid of water balloons and sticky bombs. The door to the perch opened with a bang and Soldier roared into the room, looking out the window and not noticing the position of the occupants. "LADIES! It is time to move out! The BLU scum are throwing projectiles at our base and-!"

Of all the people. Spy quickly turned away, hands shooting for his mask on the floor. He tugged it on and sat cross legged, well aware of his near-nudity. He fumbled through his discarded jacket for his cigarettes. Spy let it sit on his lip as he looked up at Soldier. "Quoi?"

Sniper was quick to grab his trousers and slip them on, glaring viciously at Soldier. The commander turned and noticed the situation. At first, he seemed a bit surprised - or he didn't say anything at least. Then he grinned, and it was one of those batshit insane grins he wore when he had cornered someone. "Am I interrupting something men?"
"Yes, you bloody are." Sniper fumed.

"First we are ladies, now we are men. You really must pick one, Soldier. And my, it did not take BLU long to figure out it was a RED that caused all those problems." BLUs apparently are geniuses, as seen that night.

Soldier glared at Spy. “I should have your head for this, you pathetic French worm! You started all this, you un-American-" He was cut off by Sniper slashing his kukri dangerously close to his nose. Despite being drunk, Snipers aim was intact. "I should have your head wanker, for coming up here! We've got a goddamn alarm system for this!" Soldier's icy gaze fixed on Sniper as the man raised his shovel. "You want to challenge ME?"

141 .

Just to Make Myself Attractive to You, part three of four



Spy wasn't really avoiding Sniper since -- since... well, don't make him spell it out for you. He wasn't avoiding him; he was just taking his sweet time visiting him again. Plus, he didn't need to embarrass himself further with the rest of the team. When the day's battle started, Spy decided to be a useful member of RED today. He was already on BLU's side and lurking around on the sniping deck.

Sniper headed out onto the RED battlements cautiously, his new weapon held firmly in his hands – he may have been training with the Huntsman for a while but he hadn't been in the fray before so to speak, so he was easing into it. He happened to see a familiar figure, disguised as some BLU. Well, he could help with that disguise, make it look authentic...Sniper ducked back and secured one of the bits of paper to an arrow, before firing it over to the BLU sniping deck and jumping down, pull another arrow out and taking aim at the surprised BLU Soldier.

Spy was caught off guard-- the BLU Sniper didn't have a bow and arrow! He went out of his way to check his flank and looked both ways, almost like a cartoon character. The arrow had a piece of paper around it? What game was Sniper playing at? Spy cloaked and hid in the shadows to investigate.

The note was written in Sniper's handwriting, which was a bit spidery and slightly messy but easy to read. "Hey darl. You best hold onto your energy today. I'd love it if you struggled a little when I force you onto the floor."

Spy swallowed, smacking his lips and staring down at the paper. Did his eye just twitch? That bastard is making it hard for him to do his job. Mon dieu. He tucked the paper into his pocket. Save that for later. The BLU Sniper was crouching in the window now-- Spy thought he'd take some of that pent up frustration out on this poor Aussie. The backstab was a cheap one and he was able to move on, disguised as the BLU Sniper, into the courtyard.

Sniper was careful as he advanced into the BLU base. Funny to think he had been here so long and this was the first time he had set foot within enemy territory. The BLU's had caught onto his little surprise (or they would, once the Soldier respawned and raged about it) so he couldn't rely on them stopping to wonder what the hell he was doing. He nearly ran into their Heavy and Medic and ducked around a corner, waiting for them to pass.

Spy was pretty damn amused that Sniper was causing a distraction for him. Er-- being a credit to the team and getting up off his ass for once. Same thing. He wanted to see it for himself though-- but who could resist backstabbing a Medic?

Sniper grinned and quickly attached another note as he prepared his bow. As Spy sunk his knife into Medic's back, he raised his bow and fired, letting the arrow fly straight into the Heavy's head, headshotting him before he could react to the Medic's death. Then Sniper darted off - he couldn't hang about to chat, they were working!

Spy put his disguise back in place and walked over to the now-deceased Heavy. That was kind of smooth; he thought he was going to have to run from this Bear Man. He put his foot on the Russian's head and yanked the arrow out. What could this note possibly say?

”We made quite a mess of your suit, didn't we? I'll be sure to make sure it's all off next time, since you've quite fussy about that sort of thing. Although, the tie stays on.
That thing is begging to be pulled at.”

Spy squeezed his eyes shut. He muttered, "Fils de pute." Which made a Pyro leaving the base look at him funny. And slowly walk over to him... and Sniper soon would be hearing Spy scream.

Sniper turned. He heard the sound of fire and Spy screaming. Without thinking he pulled out a jar of liquid and threw it back the way he came. "Heads up!" Then he pulled another arrow taut and aimed for the Pyro, who was now chasing him out.

Well. Part of him surely should say MERCI but ... Spy just kept screaming. What was worse, the fire or the piss? And no, it didn't make him feel better knowing it was Sniper's. That didn't make it better at all. He took a running leap into the moat as if he were still on fire. (Oh god did some get in his mouth MERDE).

Sniper would end up screaming too - the panic that came with being face to face with Pyro rather than aiming for the bastard’s abnormally small head from a safe distance threw off his aim, and resulted in his first fiery death. Now he understood why ranked so high on the list of "Painful Ways To Die".

While Sniper was dying and respawning, Spy was showering. Yes, in the middle of battle. He came back out, fresh suit and cursing Sniper for ever leaving his perch. He decided to try and stay away from the Australian, even if that meant the notes would stop...

Sniper came to in the respawn room, momentarily feeling a tinge all over his skin. Fucking fire. He heard a shower and figured it was Spy - who else would be showering now, especially after what had happened. He found Spy's clothes and left an arrow on them, with a hastily written note. Then he quickly dashed out - the Pyro must die.

Spy decided to at least clean up. The last thing he needed was Scout asking why Spy's clothes were on the floor by the shower. He found the note and thought Sniper would have made a good Spy. He was almost afraid to read this one.

"I'm real sorry about that beauty. Next time you end up with anything of mine on you, I promise it'll only be the good stuff."

Spy sputtered. WELL. That ... NON. He is still mad! Spy crumpled up the note and threw it into the trash. He then cloaked and headed back to the BLU base.

Sniper meanwhile was staying close to Heavy and Medic. He picked off the distant dangers next to Heavy while he barrelled over the bridge like a steel wall, Medic healing him. It was a good idea - until Sniper heard Medic scream. He looked around in time to see the BLU Spy backstab Heavy, turning to him with that infernal "you're-about-to-get-shanked" smirk. So Sniper did the first thing that came to mind and dived into the dirty water to avoid him.

Spy was prancing around as the BLU Medic. He saw the BLU Spy lose his disguise as he stabbed his own Medic and thought that was a good time to walk up behind him with his knife at the ready. As he raised the knife, Spy greeted his counterpart, "Bonjour!" (No sense in hiding it).

BLU Spy had been distracted with the Sniper, until he went into that filthy water. Disgusting. So he instinctively turned at the greeting, still gripping his own knife.

Oooh, if only he hadn't been playing around, he could have got the stab in. Curse him for being such a showman. "Ah ah ah, you know to leave him alone."

"Would that displease you...?" The BLU grinned in a shark-like manner, circling Spy. "Because I must be honest, that would not bother me."

Below, Sniper resurfaced for air and saw what was going on. Treading water, he breathed deeply and dived under, wondering if this would work...

Spy kept his Medic disguise up, who knows, it could come in handy. "Displeasing me does not bother you?" Ah, usually this banter is more witty...

"In fact, it quite pleases me! But, I could let the convict go by I suppose. After all--" The Blu Spy's appearance altered in a puff of smoke, altering the colour of his suit from blue to red shades. "-- I am curious to see what you see in him!"

The Spy-Medic blanched. "Do not play games with me." Get out of here!” DON'T YOU PULL THAT SHIT WITH HIM.

The BLU Spy laughed. "Oh, it's not you I'm going to be playing ga--" at that moment, Sniper pushed himself up out of the surface of the water, firing at quickly and accurately as he could before he fell back under. The arrow missed the BLU Spy's head, sticking him in the shoulder. It was enough to make him curse and lose his disguise, nearly dropping his knife.

Spy took his chance to stab his counterpart in the chest. He lost his own disguise-- but it was worth it. He was slightly disappointed to see there was no note attached to that arrow.

The BLU Spy gave out a death cry, which made Sniper smirk as he pulled himself up into the BLU's waterways. He drew another arrow, just in case someone popped up around the corners and advanced in.

Spy cloaked and headed towards the Intel room. Enough of this Mickey Mouse bullshit!

Spy would be on his way down the steps when Sniper slowly approached the briefcase. He still had an arrow ready, suddenly very, very aware of how vulnerable his back was. Then he grabbed the case and swung it onto his back, causing the alert to ring out in the base. Hurriedly, he ran the way he came, hoping no BLU's would drop into the sewers at the alarm.

Spy heard the alert and was amazed. That bow and arrow business was cutting into his own business! A Sniper running the Intel? Surely, Scout was somewhere insulted. But Spy did what anyone else on RED would do, which is catch up with Sniper and stay with him while he had the Intel. No disguises, just his Ambassador and his badassary.

Sniper hadn't noticed Spy following him, too busy running for the base. He only became aware of him when they stepped into the water, recognising the separate footsteps and knowing that if it had been a BLU, he'd had been shot by now. So he just kept going.

Spy continued to follow, feeling slightly smitten. Isn't this lovely, dear? Working side by side-- wait a second. "--Pyro's coming up, I'll distract him."

Sniper recognised the voice instantly, although he hid his surprise. "You sure?" He asked, turning to Spy. Despite his little game with the notes, he has to remain professional right now, regardless of the fact that Spy hadn't been up to see him lately (that he knew of at any rate).

"Never ask me again if I am sure of something." That's just insulting. Spy stopped following, knowing that Sniper would be fine once he got to their side of the sewers.

"Be careful." Sniper muttered. Let the Spook handle the mumbling creep. Sniper jumped into the water and swiftly swam to the other side, cutting through the water like a hot knife through butter. He pulled himself up on the other side, soaking wet.

Spy ran backwards and shot at the Pyro, who only just airblasted him around. Merde, that is annoying. But he did what he set out to do-- distract the firebug.

Sniper didn't look back as he flew up the stairs and rounded the corner into the Intel room, still wary even within his own base. He slammed the briefcase onto the table, a congratulatory message playing through the team's intercom system.

Spy managed to shoot the Pyro enough that he retreated. He gave a little golf-clap to Sniper, even if he couldn't see him or hear him, deep in the sewers and up to his knees in dirty water.

Sniper grinned - he owed Spy for that. He had newfound respect for him after being toasted and really understood why he hated the enemy Pyro so much. He headed back upstairs, knowing that it was mostly luck and Spy's help that let him capture that Intel.

Spy lit a cigarette and made his way back up through BLU's sewers. He disguised as their Engineer and (HOPED TO GOD IN HEAVEN THAT A SCOUT DIDN'T SEE) --decided to hang around outside of BLU's front doors. He'll stab someone coming out, that was always fun.

Sniper ran over to the BLU base unseen by their Sniper, who was busy aiming for Demo's head. He hid just outside the doors, drawing an arrow - the moment someone ran through, he'd shoot them in the back of the head. Unless one of them came running of the RED base, in which case he'd shoot him before they could get to their safety of BLU.

Spy-Engineer put his hands on his hips and he hissed, "Get out of here! You are making this less fun for me!"

“What?" Sniper looked around into the doorway and saw Spy, wearing an Engineer mask. He gave him an unimpressed look; then plucked up an arrow, pulled a note out of his pocket, tied it to the arrow and drew it back. Just as the Engineer behind Spy started to shout "Spa-!” Sniper let go of the arrow, hitting him squarely between the eyes. Then he ran off back to the RED side, taking shots at his rival on the battlements as he did.

Spy put his hands on his hips. "Hm." He pulled an arrow out a man's head for the second time-- "Well, isn't this romantic," and read the letter.

"Sometimes I think about going into your room at night. Only when I walk by and hear you wanking - just to offer a hand, or a mouth. Would you like that darling?"

Spy's mouth dropped open. "Why I never--!" It got him thinking. Has Sniper heard him?

Sniper had. In fact, it was that incident that gave him the idea for these little notes, although his first thought had been to somehow slip them into Spy's room. Currently though, he had managed to make it somewhat safely across the bridge and was now trying to find Engineer so he could make use of his dispenser.

Spy decided to follow Sniper again. This time he had a different reason to do so. He dropped the Engineer disguise and just moved slowly with his Cloak and Dagger. He didn't want to be seen, therefore he wouldn't be.

Their Engineer had set up his sentry nest in the courtyard. Sniper sighed, feeling the warm ray of the dispenser wash over him. After upgrading the sentry to level two, Engineer asked Sniper to keep an eye out for him while he went out to build some teleporters. Sniper nodded and off hurried the Engie.

Spy got up close behind Sniper-- as close as he could without touching. He was slightly concerned how easy it was. (That BLU Spy better keep his distance). He brought his mouth near Sniper's ear, "Say, Birdy, what are you doing after this?" And then he smacked Sniper on the ass.

Sniper jumped, turning sharply. "Spook!" This was the second time he had been snuck up on and had his arse manhandled by Spy. At this rate it was going to become a routine. But at least he had learnt something - don't think you're safe, where-ever you are. "I was thinking of grabbing a shower." Then screwing you.

Spy smirked (invisible-y), "Really now?" That sounded like an invitation to him.

"Yeah." Sniper pulled out another arrow, inspecting the tip. His wounds were nearly patched up and the Engineer would be returning soon. Then it'd be back to work.

The day was almost over. They had captured the Intel. Everything now was just silly little details. Spy could leave now without any regrets. Especially if Sniper was there. "You ought to go do that, then."

"Right now?" Sniper looked up in no direction, not hiding a coy smirk. Looks like his little notes had done the trick and he still had some spare for another day (there will be another day).

"...Oui, you should go now. Before the rest of the team goes in." Spy didn't need to look at his watch to know that the 'silly little details' could take up to an hour. An hour. He was getting giddy.

Sniper chuckled and brushed past Spy, seeing the Engineer return. He headed back into the base, for the showers. Leaving early on one day wasn't going to do much harm.

Spy stayed by the dispenser for a bit, watching the Engineer do his thing. He let Sniper have a head start.

Sniper walked into the showers, deliberately shutting the door. He wanted to hear when Spy came in. He turned on a shower so the water would warm up and stripped.

Spy stayed invisible and when he got to the door, he was most disappointed. Closed doors always gave him trouble. It meant he'd have to open it. When would the Engineer invent something so he could walk through walls? He opened the door, slowly and carefully. He wanted to watch before he participated. Is that so wrong?

Sniper heard Spy walk in just as he stepped under the spray of water. He smiled to himself and began to wash his hair - knowing Spy, he'd appear when he wanted to. Sniper hunched over, using the water and his fingers to get rid of the lather from his hair.

Spy shut the door-- sadly there wasn't a lock. There needed to be more locks around this place. He stood off to the side, slowly peeling off his clothes. If Sniper was watching the spot, he'd see clothing become visible as they were removed from Spy's body.

Sniper heard the sounds of fabric rustling but didn't turn around. Let the Spook be unseen for now. He stepped out of the water and ran the soap over his body, just like he would any other day. But he didn't usually pay so much attention to his figure and the marks on it, as he slowly stroked his skin with the bubbly white bar.

Spy was naked, except for his watch. He'd have to be careful and remember to remove that before he got close to the water. That would be difficult to explain to the Engineer. He whistled; Sniper knew he was here. Give him something to watch, Birdy!

Sniper glanced at Spy's clothing on the floor at the whistle. The sound had echoed slightly around the room, so he couldn't be sure if Spy was by his clothes or right behind him. There's a thought. Sniper put the soap aside and let his hand snake down his stomach to his groin, starting to 'clean' himself.

Spy didn't know the rules to this game, so he made them up himself. He began to murmur, "Go on, you are alone here. What are you thinking of, assassin?"

Sniper heard the murmur just above the water. His spare hand was rubbing his side, keeping the illusion of cleaning himself. "I'm thinking of a ghost that keeps haunting me. He sneaks up on me often, just to touch me."

Spy found himself gently touching his own stomach, watching Sniper. "Show me how you want him to touch you..."

"I want him to tease me." Sniper used the very tips of his fingers to touch himself brushing - not rubbing - the skin. The hand that trailed over his body mimicked the action, leaving patterns in the lather on him.

Sniper wanting to be teased just made Spy want to throw that watch against the wall and wrap himself around him. But he would oblige. "Oh, he will. Take your cock into your hand, precious."

Sniper let his hands drop and also took a small step, just a small one, so the water from the shower ran over one of his sides. He needed to the soap off, didn't he?

"Come on now, do not be shy." It was almost sick, the way they teased each other. "I want to see..."

Sniper slowly wrapped his hand around himself, loosely holding himself and rubbing. It wasn't even a hold; it was more Sniper curling his fingers around his cock.

"That is nice." Spy hissed out the word, 'nice.' "Stroke yourself, but not too much. Do not get too excited, cher."

"You always seem to possess me, don't you? Making me do whatever you want." Regardless, Sniper obeyed Spy's commands.

It was starting to get rather warm in there, what with the water running and the naked Sniper. "Oh, is that a complaint? Ah ah, stop what you are doing." He's doing it wrong.

Sniper let go of himself, now moving so the water ran in thin threads over his entire body. This was heavenly. If only Spy would step under the water too.

There was a voice in the back of his head, the Engineer telling him that all those steam vapors were going to screw up his watch. SHUT UP, ENGINEER. With a sigh, he returned to his clothing. He took off the watch and placed it on top of his mask, nice and tidy. --Obviously, he was visible now. "Oh. Hello there! Fancy meeting you here."

"Hi Spook." Sniper greeted him nonchalantly. This wasn't an erection from talking to Spy about how to wank off correctly. Maybe it was from seeing Spy standing there, so casually naked. "Care to join me?"

Nothing could stop him from joining Sniper under the water. He pressed his body against the other man's and kissed him deeply. There, that was your answer, Sniper.

Sniper kissed Spy back, his hands reaching for the soft, firm body that was moving against him. One hand settled on Spy's hips, just settling there, while the other curled around and up Spy's back.

Spy shook his head, momentarily breaking the kiss to deal with his newly wet hair. His hips and torso gently bounced off of Sniper's-- "Is this better?"

"Much better." You have no idea Spy. Well, he might have gotten an idea when Sniper restarted the kiss, pulling Spy's hips close and trapping his cock between them.

Spy just can't shut up. He moved his mouth away from Sniper's, kissing up that wet delicious neck and whispering into his ear, "I would have liked to watch you pleasure yourself." It's been awhile since he's done that.

Sniper chuckled. "I bet you would." He let go of Spy and leaned back on the cool tiled wall. He wrapped a hand around himself properly, giving him a real tug before stroking himself idly.

And Spy just watched. One hand on Sniper's shoulder, the other was snaking down to touch Sniper's wrist. He liked to feel his hand move as Sniper's hand moved over his skin. He liked to see that smug Australian son of a bitch stroke himself. "Do you need assistance?"

"Well that depends." Sniper would actually love to have some assistance as Spy put it, but he wasn't going to be easy. Besides..."If you help, you're not just watching anymore."

"Well, I DO like to watch." Spy gazed appreciatively down at Sniper jerking off. "Your heart does not seem to be in it. Come now, a little faster."

Sniper put an arm around Spy's shoulders, but didn't pull him close. He did as told, groaning at the change of pace. Forget teasing, he was going to do this right now.

Spy then wrapped his fingers around his own erection, grinning. "Look what you have made do."

Sniper smiled, watching both their hands work on their own cocks. "Quite a pretty picture, don't you think?" The back of his hand brushed against Spy's.

"If I would have known this was possible with you, I would have approached you for it long ago..." Spy just smirked, continuing to work himself as casually as could be.

"That so?" Sniper let go of himself, curling his hand over Spy's. He stroked Spy a few times before uncoiling Spy's fingers from himself, rearranging their hands so they held their dicks together. Sniper murmured, barely audible as he leaned slightly closer. "How about this?"

"Also good." Spy hissed and pressed his forehead to Sniper's collarbone. It was almost too much. Warm water, Sniper touching him, the feeling of Sniper's cock against his own... His breath hitched and he began to suck the skin of Sniper's clavicle.

Sniper leaned back slightly as his hips twitched and thrusted slightly, moaning and murmuring. He adored the way Spy would taste and kiss his chest. The arm around Spy's shoulder slowly dragged down his back.

Spy leaned his head on Sniper's shoulder and lazily kissed at his neck. The whole situation was nearly tender. "Keep going, I want you to make me come..." It went without saying, but Spy had to be speaking at all times, apparently.

"I will." He managed to moan. Sniper continued to thrust into their hands anyway, locking Spy in an embrace with his other arm. The moment was so...soft. He could screw Spy roughly some other time.

Spy brought both hands up to rest against Sniper's chest. He closed his eyes and felt disconnected to their surroundings. He just let himself breathe and moan into Sniper's neck.

Sniper kept their bodies aligned, one hand fisted around their cocks and the other wrapped around Spy's middle. He leaned back, giving up his body for Spy to rest on, his neck for Spy to moan into and his hips to make Spy come. Sniper breathed deeply, groaning and moaning - sometimes a word could be made out, usually an endearment for Spy.

Spy came, gasping and nipping at Sniper's neck. He kept his face buried there, Sniper's skin comforting and delicious. His hand moved from Sniper's chest down over the other man's hand. He was either attempting to help Sniper along or trying to get some water between them. Probably both.

Sniper's hips jumped at the hand joining his own, and the rush of warm water over his cock undid him. Sniper managed to restrain a howl, still letting out a long, low noise of satisfaction. He stopped thrusting and stilled, holding Spy close and just breathing; nuzzling the head that rested on his shoulder, the water from Spy's wet locks making his own cheek damp.

"Oh, petite." Spy could watch Sniper's orgasms all day (and he planned to do that-- maybe this weekend? Further investigation is needed). Spy stood up straight and brushed Sniper's hair back with one hand.

Sniper smiled at Spy using that post orgasm smile, the one that is similar no matter how hard or soft or normal or kinkily you've just had sex. The hand that had been between them joined his other around Spy, as Sniper let himself be petted, breathing deeply.

Spy continued to smile his sneaky smile, the one that was always the same. Try and get another kind out of Spy, he dares you. "Do you think you are clean enough now?"

"I am." Except for Spy's cum on his stomach, crossing over his crocodile scar. But that wasn't such a big deal, with the water washing it down him. "You're not." Spy hadn't even touched the soap yet.

Spy's mouth dropped open just a bit. Just a bit. Sniper was a sexy genius and was slightly disappointed it took them so long to start fucking. How is he ever going to work again with this terrible creature waiting for him? "Do you think you can help me there?"

"Sure thing darl." Sniper smirked slightly, letting go of Spy and reaching past him for the soap. He rubbed the bar a bit under the water before stroking Spy's body with it, as if he had never touched Spy before.

Spy appreciated someone who could see him for what he was-- terribly attractive. It was about time he had a lover to worship him around here. Spy's eyes were heavy lidded. As much as he wanted to close them and relax, he loved to watch Sniper. He sighed happily, "Oh, mon cher."

Sniper passed the bar to his other hand, now using both hands to stroke and rub Spy's body. He kissed one of Spy's shoulders, his movements slow and delicate but also ensuring Spy was actually being cleaned at the same time. It was just the habit of efficiency kicking in.

Spy felt like he should turn around, let Sniper take in the rest of him. He smiled and began to speak, but the Announcers booming voice informed them that the fighting was done for the day. "...do we really need to stop?" (Except he can't have the others seeing his face. He didn't care if they saw his dick).

"Afraid so, love." Sniper sighed. His hands slid to Spy's back, rubbing his shoulder blades. He gave Spy a devilish smile. "Although, we can pick this up some other time." Replace 'can' with 'will'.

Spy scoffed and rinsed himself off. "We will see..." Pfft, of course they will. He padded over to the shelf with towels, quickly draping a few over himself. He was even nice enough to throw one to Sniper.

Sniper stepped out of the shower and caught the towel, turning the water off. "Thanks." He began to dry himself off quickly and then wrapped the towel around his middle. It was all he needed to cover.

Spy, of course, decided to get dressed. This was his third shower of the day. His clothing was clean. He didn't rush, he knew the others had other stops before the showers. It was probably for the best, he had a lot of clothing to put back on. The mask went on first. "Going to watch, dear?"

"Yeah. I need to know how to get it all off without ripping anything, don't I?" Spy would probably appreciate that. Sniper took a seat on a bench, next to his own clothing. He didn't touch it though, only watching Spy.

Spy donned his three piece-suit with all the fixings. Deft fingers on the fancy buttons, and then they were covered by gloves. He sat to tie his shoes. "You are so sure I will allow you to again?" Drat, was all the mystery leaving their relationship?

"You might." Or Sniper might have to lure him in again. He began to dress himself, boxers and trousers then his undershirt, RED shirt and vest.

"And I might not." Lies, all of it.

Sniper slipped on his socks. Then put on his aviators, hat and glove. Ready to do his job or just look good. "You might not. But I'll still need to get it off and I'd hate to ruin another one of your suits." He'd love it. But if he tore up Spy's suits, HQ would wonder what was happening to them.

"I might not let you, and you'll... do it anyway?" Oh that was delightful.

"I might." With a little, secret smile at Spy, Sniper tugged on his shoes and walked out of the shower room.

-----------

Sniper was enjoying the last part of his afternoon snooze - basically, he was awake but hadn't gotten up yet. Today had been exceptionally warm and he had let the light and heat into the perch, so it was most comfortable to sleep wearing nothing. Which he was, except for the sheet covering between his thighs and stomach.

During the extended ceasefire, one would think that Spy wouldn't have left Sniper's sights for too long. You'd think they would be going at it constantly, wouldn't you? YOU THOUGHT WRONG. Spy plays hard to get. He's also a bit of a jerk, evidence of this being him sneaking into the room, as usual. He spotted Sniper lying on his back with that sheet draped over his middle. It wasn't Spy's favorite part of him, but it was in the top five. Spy came close and yanked at the sheet, the way a cheesy magician would yank a tablecloth. (And the glasses are still standing!) He uncloaked during this act and raised his voice, "Wake up!"

"Oi, I'm already awake!" Sniper turned over quickly, sitting up and looking up at the uncloaking Spy. Yes, he was now completely naked. But there was no point in being shy, since Spy had seen him bare before.

Spy has seen him bare before (and how!) "Mail came today." Spy pretended to look away, obviously scandalized by the naked man in front of him.

Sniper grabbed a pair of boxers and slipped them on before standing up. He may not be shy but there was no need for excessive nudity. "Ah, did you bring mine?"

Spy patted his pockets. "Ah ha!" But he only produced his cigarette case. He took his sweet time lighting one before he pulled a letter out for Sniper. It was already opened. "There we are."

Sniper accepted the letter and frowned. "Was it like this when you found it?" He asked carefully, extracting the paper within with similar caution. He really didn't like the idea of someone reading it.

Should he lie? Sniper seemed displeased. Spy tested the waters. Gently now, "...non."

Sniper bit his lip. "You opened it?" He glanced up at Spy, unfolding the paper. He wasn't sure if he was angry that Spy might have read it, or concerned that Spy might realise what was going on back home.

"Did I?" Spy glanced over, trying to appear nonchalant.

"That's what I'm asking. Actually, did you read it?" That was the more important question. speaking of which, Sniper still needed to read it himself.

Spy just shrugged.

Sniper considered pinning Spy to something but instead he looked at the letter. Maybe it wasn't from his parents - maybe it was just an old friend or something. Then he wouldn't strangle Spy out of relief.

Spy liked to see that look in Sniper's eyes. He wanted to go around lying more often. "What does it say?"

Sniper read it over quickly, ignoring Spy. Thankfully it was short and didn't reveal anything he'd rather not be known. But...piss. Sniper put a hand to his face, pinching his nose. "You got a spare cigarette?" he asked Spy. He needed one. Now.

Spy took the one from his mouth and passed it over to Sniper. Like hell he was going to light another. By fucking Spy, Sniper has been downgraded to someone who doesn't get their own fag. "Something wrong, light of my life? Apple of my eye, et cetera, et cetera?"

Sniper took a deep drag, exhaling all the smoke through his nose. He smoked a little more before answering. "My parents are coming to visit." Sniper flipped over the envelop to see the date on it.

What a knee slapper. Spy grinned. It was just a little evil in nature. "Really?" No, Spy, you can't fuck Sniper's mother.

Sniper's eyes widened at the date. "Hold up, this letter's late...they're coming today!" Sniper immediately grabbed his clothes and dressed, keeping the cigarette in his mouth as he did and only pausing for the occasional drag. Fuck, fuck, fuck! He didn't want them to come anyway and /now/ he had no time to prepare!

Spy liked to watch Sniper dress almost as much as he liked to see him undress. He stood in the corner, as cool as ever. He slowly asked, "What time is it?" Visitors would surely be arriving with the train. "Calm down--" Or he'll make you calm down.

"I don't- it's four." Sniper was flustering. He looked around a bit, trying to see if he had forgotten anything - glove and hat. He snatched the glove off the table and slipped it on, now looking around for his headgear.

Spy leaned against the windowsill. Gloved fingers tapped at the wood. "Calm down."

"I'll calm down once I - ah!" Sniper plucked his hat off the floor next to his bed and put it on. But he clearly wasn't calm. Even while smoking the cigarette he looked a bit like a jittery bird, shortly before it pecks at intruding fingers.

"Now?" Spy wasn't impressed with Sniper's mood right now. It was making him nervous. He didn't like that one bit.

"Yeah, yeah...why the hell was the post late?" Sniper muttered slightly, walking over to Spy to return the cigarette.

Because Spy forgot to give it to Sniper. If Sniper was thinking straight, maybe he'd realize that? Good thing, that. "No idea. Keep it."

Sniper just assumed that all the post had been late, not just his. He took another drag and seemed to calm down a little, but he was still nowhere near the level of calm he normally was. "I better get going."

"Fine fine, be that way." Spy shooed him. "But do not expect me to be waiting for you."

Sniper gave Spy a little glare. He really didn't appreciate Spy reading his mail, but he'd been lucky that it hadn't been too personal. He turned and walked out quickly, without a word.

Spy didn't think he did anything wrong. If anything, Sniper has slighted him. He has to sneak around in order to get any information about this man. And then he storms off without inviting him. No, he won't be waiting.

*Much later*
Sniper wasn't looking too good. His hat was pulled down and he was walking very quickly, as if he wanted to run but couldn't inside the base. Or he just didn't want to be seen running. He made his way to the perch, hoping that his dad would either get lost and piss off, or insult someone who would rip him apart without hesitation. Like Soldier. There was a pretty image.

Spy didn't have anyone to visit him. He didn't have anyone to show around the base. He considering hoofing it all the way into the nearest town and finding someone... but surely he'd end up telling Sniper on accident. Instead, he read a book and smoked all his cigarettes. Even the ones from his secret stash. He'd have to wait for the next train before he could smoke again. That or he would have to steal from BLU-- what's this? Lurking around, he spotted the quick moving Sniper. He followed Sniper, uncloaked and not nearly as sneaky as usual.

Sniper heard the footsteps and turned, already half in the motion to lash out. "Spook." Seeing Spy, he quickly dropped his fist. In the glare of the lights, it was easy to see some bruises forming on his arms. Sniper awkwardly shifted his weight. Great. He had nearly lashed out at Spy. "What are you doing around here?"

"What in the hell happened to you?" Spy grabbed Sniper's arm. "Have you been wrestling with that little brat again?"

Sniper winced. "Yeah, sure." Wrestling yes. With Scout? No. Unfortunately, he saw the man he had been fighting approach from behind Spy. "Piss." he breathed, quickly separating from Spy and stepping forward to face his father.

The Spy in its natural habitat will cloak when something unexpected or uncomfortable happens. He pressed himself against the wall and knew he really didn't want to get in between these two.

Sniper's father was built like Saxon Hale, so it was obvious who had the advantage at close range combat. It didn't last long, with both shouting and swearing at each other the whole time. Sniper managed to get in a few hits but the older man largely seemed to soak them up and return the blows with heavier strength. The two only stopped when a woman appeared, clearly Sniper's mum.

Spy smirked. Sniper's mother was just as attractive as he had hoped.

Sniper's mum pulled her husband off Sniper, who had been floored during the fight. "Now now! The two of you should really stop fighting." Sniper's father only huffed as Sniper stood up, turning to walk away again. "I will when the boy can punch." Sniper's father muttered. There was no warning before he balled up his fist and struck Sniper in the back of the head, knocking Sniper to the floor again.

That was just dirty pool. Spy thought maybe he should step in now, as the hot old broad wasn't going to do anything about it. But he hesitated. It wasn't as if he didn't want to keep Sniper safe, but this was a family matter. A violent one, but still.

Sniper's father gave him a kick before turning and stalking off. His mother stayed for a moment, waiting until Sniper shifted before hurrying after his dad. "We'll talk some other time love!" To her credit, she did berate the older man - until he raised a fist threateningly.

Spy uncloaked and went to help Sniper up. He sighed and clicked his tongue, almost as if it were Sniper's fault. "Don't you wish you would have just stayed in bed?"

Sniper pushed himself up. "I'm fine." It was an automatic reaction now. Say you're OK and brush it away. He straightened out his clothes, trying to act like nothing had happened, despite the fact that he felt pretty giddy and achey.

"Your father? He is a dick. Take me back to your nest, birdy, I will take care of you." Spy would rifle through Medic's things if he had to.

"It's nothing!" Sniper denied. It was pointless but the behaviour was ingrained into him by now. Despite this, he took a hold of Spy's hand and walked with him the perch, keeping his eyes on the floor.

Spy walked with Sniper hand in hand until they got to the perch. "You lay down, I will be right back!"

Sniper nodded and eased himself onto the bed, before flopping backwards. Fuck. He hadn't wanted anyone to see that (that being him getting knocked about like a punching bag) and Spy had been standing /right there/ when it had ended.

Spy was gone for nearly ten minutes. When he arrived, his arms would full. He had an ice pack, a jar of lollipops and a small bottle of pills. Not to mention a few bits of bandages. Those probably weren't needed, but maybe they could hold-- er, nevermind. "I'm baaack!"

Sniper looked over at Spy and sat up, turning to face him. "Hi. Urm, you didn't have to get all that." Sniper appreciated the fact that Spy went to go and get all those things but he had gotten by before. And some just didn't seem essential - lollipops?

"I stole whatever was not nailed down ... and that I could carry." He sat down next to Sniper in bed. The icepack was applied to the back of Sniper's head. "I brought you something for pain. Oh and some pain pills." Ha ha, there was a joke there.

"Thanks." Sniper mumbled, reaching up and holding the ice pack himself, hand half over Spy's. He still felt ashamed but he felt better with Spy playing doctor for him. Well, more nurse than doctor.

Spy began to examine anything that looked like it hurt. He'd poke and prod, "Does this hurt? Oh yes, that looks bad."

Sniper hissed as Spy inspected him. "Wait." If Spy was acting as the medical person, he could act like a good patient for once. "Here." He peeled off his top layer of clothes, revealing some deep, purpling bruises on his chest and back. Hopefully Spy would stop prodding now.

"Oh, goodness." Spy sounded genuinely concerned. "Here, take a couple of these before we continue."

Sniper took the painkillers Spy offered and looked around for a drink. He pulled himself up to grab a glass of water.

Spy was quick to jump up and grab a glass of water (IT WAS WATER) from a nearby crate. "Just sit back, I will wait on you hand and knee if I must."

Sniper dropped back, a bit surprised by Spy's eagerness. He smiled though. "You won't have to go that far." he held the pills in one hand, the other waiting for the glass.

"I try not to go too far. It is why your father isn't dead." After all, he's not in the respawn system.

Sniper hummed, took the glass and drank the pills Spy had kindly given him. Since they were from Medic, they must be the good stuff.

Spy then pulled a lollipop from his stolen jar. "If there is a next time, I will kill him."

Sniper nodded slowly. "You shouldn't bother. He's not worth the trouble." Although Sniper wouldn't interfere. Actually, he just didn't want to be involved with his father at all.

"Look what he has done to my Sniper." Spy was laying the sympathy on as thick as possible. It's bad enough to get in a fight with your father. But it's another thing to get your ass kicked by your father (at least, at THIS AGE).

Sniper sighed and leaned back onto the bed, hands over his face. He thought he would stop getting this shit when he left home. But nope, he couldn't make the bastard fuck off.

"There there, I will kill him before he leaves tonight. No worries." Spy wasn't ... well, he wasn't completely serious.

"Heh." Sniper let his hands fall from his face, watching Spy. His bruises still ached...actually, it felt like they ached a bit more, mostly the ones on his back (which he was lying on).

"You are not going to stop me, are you?" You sick bastard. He adored you.

Sniper gave Spy a little smile. "I know better than to try and stop you." Well, he didn't. But he did if it involved backstabbing someone.

Spy began to suck on the lollipop he'd rightfully stolen. It wasn't suggestive-- he was out of smokes. "How do you feel now?"

"Pretty much the same." Sniper pushed himself onto his elbows and found that his back felt instantly better. Had the mattress always been this soft? And the blankets?

"But I am here now." That has to be something!

Sniper smiled and sat up, reaching for Spy. "In that aspect, I'm feeling a whole lot better." His company had definitely improved.

"I'm supposed to be taking care of you. Shoo, sit." Roll over! Beg!

"You can take care of me." Sniper was beginning to feel a bit strange. Not like when he had been tied up and couldn't lie because of those muscle relaxants - quite the opposite. All his nerves seemed to be hyper-sensitive, picking up on sensation ten times stronger than they usually would. It was very strange.

"How?" Spy liked Sniper's voice. Especially when it was saying dreadfully dirty things.

Sniper smirked. Oh, he loved when Spy goaded him into saying things like this. "Well. I'm pretty sure not all of me is covered in bruises. Maybe you could check?"

"Oh! Like a game! Where should I check first?" Spy let the lollipop hang out of his mouth like a cigarette.

"It's pretty obvious my chest is looking black and blue. What about my back?" Sniper could feel it was black and blue too, but it was best to ease into what he wanted. Nice and slow.

"What about it? Roll over, love."

Sniper did as told, rolling over onto his stomach.

Spy pulled off his gloves and discarded the stolen sweet. He moved his hand over Sniper's back, "Maybe a little. Your father fights dirty?"

Sniper shuddered at Spy's touch. He /knew/ it didn't always feel this good. He would tense when Spy's hands drifted over a bruise. "He always has done."

"Is that why you fight dirty?" Spy's hands drifted here and there, just lazy touches over the skin.

"How do I fight dirty?" Sniper asked, glancing over his shoulder. What was Spy doing to him...?

Spy leaned forward and kissed a particularly nasty bruise. "From a distance. Throwing piss on people."

Sniper hissed a little. That had been a bittersweet kiss. The bruise stung but Spy's lips felt soothing. "Way I do it is quick and painless. Buggers don't even realise they've been hit 'til they're standing in respawn like lemons." It was professional. No emotions. Just a rifle, a scope and a bullet in the head.

Spy's retort was sarcastic, "You are so sweet." He gave another kiss, and another, moving lower.

"So are you." Sniper murmured, leaning forward and closing his eyes. A backstab is such a sweet way to kill. It was the perfect opposite of his method - it was up close and personal. But yet, Spy was still a professional like himself. Sniper's train of thought was derailed as soft tingles spread from the patches of skin where Spy kissed him.

Spy sat up and removed his mask. His free hand gently moved over Sniper's side. "Are you still in pain?" Do you need a distraction?

Sniper faintly put his hand over the one on his side. "A little...it's like I feel everything more. Those painkillers must've been --" Oh. No bloody way. Spy wouldn't have done that on purpose.

"I just grabbed whatever!" Don't get mad! He's a loveable scamp!

Sniper didn't know quite what to think. That's twice he's been used as a test subject for Medic's drugs. He sighed again but didn't get angry. Why would he? The drugs were having an oddly pleasant effect on him and he had Spy looking after him. Sniper held Spy's wrist and pulled him closer. "Make me better." It wasn't so much a request. Do it.

"And how do you think I should do that?" Spy hooked one leg over Sniper's, pulling him to lay on his back.

Sniper reclined against Spy, his spare hand stroking Spy's leg. "Stroke me." He turned and kissed Spy's cheek. "Kiss me." He leaned back so he could whisper in Spy's ear. "Tease me."

"You enjoy that far too much, you sicko." Spy's hand moved to Sniper's belt and began to toy with it. He could easily snap the thing off, but he didn't.

"Heh. You tell me you don't get a kick out of it darl." Sniper nipped at the ear he whispered into, pulling slightly at the lobe.

"It is why we get along so famously?" He undid Sniper's belt and caressed the fabric of his boxers.

Sniper arched at the caress. What had he taken and where had Medic found it? His boxers weren't even off yet! "Something like that."

"Goodness, Birdy." Spy had to know what would happen when he actually touched him. His fingers slid into the slit in the fabric. His fingers brushed over Sniper's cock.

Sniper's body flexed again and his hands suddenly gripped Spy's leg and wrist. He sharply inhaled and felt embarrassed. Usually he resisted a lot better!

Spy laughed and moved his hand away. "Do you want that again?"

Sniper nodded, easing the hold he had on Spy's limbs. Please.

"What? I cannot hear you."
"Yeah."
"Yeah what? Speak up, Sniper." Beg.
"Yes. Touch me again!" He knew what Spy was doing. Bastard.
"Where? And say please, did your hotass mother teach you nothing?"

"What??" Sniper's firm hold on what he held of Spy returned. Did Spy just say that about his mother? Then again, he said it about everyone's mothers. Sniper loosened up. "Look, just touch my cock again. Please."

"Hm? I cannot hear you, you are so quiet." Spy was just being a jerk now.

Sniper growled. This was beyond teasing now and entering the realms of annoying. He spoke, very plainly, in Spy's ear. "I said: Please touch my dick again." You bloody pofter.

Spy shrugged and squeezed Sniper's erection. "My, you are hard."

Sniper's toes curled and he couldn't stop a low groan from passing his lips. "You don't say."

"Do you want me to continue?" Spy stroked Sniper slowly, deliberate... obviously teasing.

"Yes. Please." Sniper managed to say, biting his lip to try and stop himself from making so many noises. The action restrained most of them but the moans and hums weren't going to be stopped that easily.

Spy sighed, he'd have to spell it out for him, "You're going to have to beg for me to continue."

"What have I been doing so far?" He even said please!

"You're asking nicely." Get fucking crazy.

Sniper made another noise, a sort of feral whine. "Just...fucking do something to me!" After this, he was not touching any drugs he didn't get himself. Never.

"You have to be more specific. You have to make me want to, dear." Spy knew he was a son of a bitch. Just listening to Sniper has given him an erection. He wants to do all kinds of things to him-- but it was the principle of the matter.

The half dangerous whine returned as Sniper squirmed, groaning. "Please. Spy, I'll goddamn suck you off if you just do something more! Lay me on the bed and I'll do whatever you want!"

Spy looked as innocent as possible (it wasn't easy). "Do you want me to ... fuck you?"

Sniper would've stilled, thought this over, but Spy's damn touch was still just teasing him. "I don't care. If you're going to do it, then bloody do it!"

"I need you to ask nicer than that. I'm a gentleman, after all." Sniper needed to know when to use those manners of his.

Some more noises from Sniper and uncomfortable shifting. This was torture. A heavenly torture, but torture none-the-less. "Fine." he moaned. "I want you to fuck me. Please Spy. Fuck. Me."

"Oh darling, I feel as if I've waited my whole life to hear you say such a thing." Spy sat up and began to undress himself.

Sniper turned. It was taking all his self control to not fling himself at Spy, cloak him with himself and drill him through the floor. But he still had some strings of patience left and the little voice that reminded him that he had asked to be teased.

Spy took his sweet time, undressing. There was a lot of it to take off. He didn't stop until he was completely stripped. Mask, socks, all the trimmings.

Sniper licked his lips, watching Spy's movements like a hawk. More than once one of his hands began to raise, only to be restrained back. Wait.

"Will this do?" Now he was just being a jackass.

"Are you fucking me yet?" Sniper asked, unimpressed.

"I think you'd like me better if I prepared a little better first." Spy wagged his finger, don't be a naughty boy. You'll hurt in the morning. "Get the rest of your gear off."

Sniper stood up quickly (not too quickly!) and took off his already undone trousers and boxers, eyes not leaving Spy.

Spy watched. He pretended to yawn.

142 .

Just to Make Myself Attractive to you, part four of four



Sniper kicked aside his clothes and lowered himself to the floor, leaning over Spy and biting his neck. The yawn had required something!

"I think you should get down on all fours, love." ...Would Sniper actually do it?

And it had apparently given some sort of result. Sniper considered for a slight moment...then did as Spy asked. He looked at Spy with an expression that was basically daring him to do it.

Spy laughed. Oh Sniper. You're such a vicious little pup. Spy leaned over and dug through his pockets. Of course he keeps lube on him, don't you? He then dropped down behind Sniper. He raked his fingertips over Sniper's ass. "Here?"

Sniper's back tensed and tightened at the fingertips dragging over his skin. "Y-yeah!" His voice caught slightly. God, he was going to be moaning like a bitch, he knew it.

That wasn't enough. "I want to hear you beg some more. Let it all out, dear. Moan like the dirty little whore you are." Spy slicked up his fingers and began to tease, pressing at that muscle.

"Ohh piss." Sniper hissed, resting his head on one of his hands. "I want you to see what it's like with you being the fucking man for once." He wondered if Spy could make him cry out like a woman.

Spy scoffed and pulled his hand away. "That's not what I wanted to hear."

"I didn't mean it like that!" Maybe he should've said the second part rather than the first.

Oh ho ho, that was close enough. Spy reached around Sniper's hip and gave him a gentle pull, his other hand was busy teasing his ass. "That's fine, I'll forgive you."

Sniper moaned and squirmed. Both sensations were so pleasant. "Keep this up and I'll be moaning like a bitch." There, he said that. And it wasn't untrue either, as Sniper tried to get more from Spy.

"I do not believe it until I hear it." He pressed a finger in, hoping his voice and the stroking would help to relax Sniper. Then again, Sniper was fucking chill right now.

A low noise reverberated from Sniper's throat. That felt...strange. It made him shudder all over but he didn't tense up - much.

Spy fucked Sniper with his finger lazily. Good things would come to those that wait. "How's that feel?"

Sniper gulped. He was getting used to it now and - "It feels good." Sniper kept his breathing steady. He knew it got better than this.

Spy pulled his finger out, pushing it back in with another one. He scissored his fingers, "And now?"

“Ah!" Sniper's shoulders tensed together and his chest lifted up slightly. His breathing was a bit shaky now. "That feels better..." It stung slightly but that was overshadowed by the strangeness and niceness.

Spy continued on with two fingers for a bit, letting Sniper get ready for this. "You've never had this before, have you?"

Sniper shook his head. "You're the first one darl." Truthfully, he might have done this once before, but it was so long ago it didn't even matter here and now.

"Of course I am." A third finger was added. "Let me know when you think you can handle it."

Sniper's body curled. His breathing was audible as he made himself relax, get used to the both good and slightly stingy alien feeling. He let Spy continue for a few moments, until he decided he couldn't wait any longer. "I'm ready."

If that were the case, Spy was ready as well. He added a bit of lube to his erection and was ready to push into Sniper, "Wait, are you sure?" Ha ha ha.

Sniper could feel Spy's heat and it felt slick and smooth and he wanted it! He tried to rock back onto it. "Yes I'm sure! Just start fucking me already!"

"You're so demanding." Spy used one finger to trail down Sniper's spine. This was hurting him more than it was hurting you, dear.

"I get like that when I want something." Sniper mumbled. His spine tinged as Spy traced it and Sniper flexed like a cat that's being stroked.

"What's the magic word?"

"Please." Spy had him fucking trained now. "Please stick your cock into me."

Oh that is magic. Spy grinned and pushed himself into Sniper. Whyohwhy did he wait so long?

Sniper panted heavily but thankfully he didn't make any really embarrassing sounds. Head resting on his arms, his hot body slowly accepted Spy's cock, muscles around it relaxing to let it in and tensing at random intervals.

Spy kept a grip on Sniper's hip, but a free hand gently rubbed circles over his back. "I need a bit of encouragement, mon cher."

Lacking self confidence sweetheart? "Fuck you fit in there nicely." Sniper groaned. He curled his back to encourage Spy's rubbing - the bruises still stung but it was a sweet sting now, not so painful.

No, Spy just liked to have his ego stroked. "You think so?" Spy thought so. His thrusts were long and lazy. They had all the time in the world.

This was nothing like how they usually screwed. For one thing, the roles were reversed. But mainly Sniper had never thrusted so casually into Spy. Slowly, yes - he could be something other than rough if he wanted! - but neither so... nonchalantly. Sniper couldn't speak without some noise sneaking into his pitch or tone. "Yeah. Argh, you're killing me here!" Killing him softly. Sniper almost - well, he actually did - mewl.

"You just feel so nice." It's comfortable. He didn't see the point in rushing. Don't mistake his lazy movements for not caring. Oh, he cared.

Sniper kept squirming, trying to move his hips so Spy was pushed fully into him each time he thrusted. "So do you." More than nice, Spy felt bloody great.

"Is this not fast enough for you? Hard enough for you?" Spy used physical cues to help Sniper along with his decision.

Sniper gasped as Spy demonstrated. "Ohhh, please keep that up!" The sounds of pleasure kept pouring from his mouth as Spy keep thrusting so smoothly in and out of him.

"Now you're being polite." Spy dug his fingertips into Sniper's hips, pushed the palm of his hand up Sniper's spine.

"I've got some manners surprisingly." Nothing like a Frenchie's dick to install gentlemanly behaviour in an Australian. Sniper's hands and toes curled up as Spy tightened his hold on him and stroked his back, mewling and groaning and wildly whining again.

"Didn't you promise moaning like a whore?" Or was that Spy's imagination? His movements became harsher, working towards a goal. That goal: making Sniper his bitch.

"You want that don't you? Me crying out for you like I'm your little bitch." Sniper raised his head so he could be heard clearly, not muffled in any way. "Well, I am your bitch. So c'mon darl - you're treating me just right!"

"I keep asking for it, don't I?" Spy placed his hand on the back of Sniper's neck. He pounded into Sniper, apparently giving him what he wanted.

Sniper cried out. The hand at his neck and Spy's roughness was pushing him towards the edge. "Fuck! I'm yours, you've got me, I'm yours, you've got me--" Sniper kept repeating the two phrases in a mantra.

"You almost there, love?" Because acting so cool has made Spy forget to hold back. He reached for Sniper's erection, stroking with deft hands.

And the stroking and everything else threw Sniper over the edge entirely. He shouted the affirmative to Spy's question even as he came, barely able to support himself on his hands after his orgasm ripped through him.

Spy let himself go directly after. Thank god. He couldn't keep that up much longer. He came with a small shout and pressed his weight onto Sniper, draping himself over the other man's back.

Sniper slowly lowered himself to the floor, lying on his stomach and catching his breath. He reached up and put a hand behind Spy's neck, his other hand taking one of Spy's and holding it close.

Spy rolled to the side a bit, pulling his legs up to tuck under Sniper's rear. "If we aren't careful, I could fall asleep like this." As uncomfortable as it was, Sniper made it loads better.

Sniper rolled over himself, facing Spy and entangling his legs with his. Sniper pulled him close again, arms around him. "You're welcome to." You're always welcome to.

"We will have such horrible backaches come morning." They could rub each other better!

"We will." Sniper smiled at Spy softly and then moved Spy so he was resting on his chest. "Well, you won't now." The bed wasn't that far away but neither of them seemed to notice or care.

Spy snuggled into Sniper's neck and got very quiet. Sure, sure. Whatever.

Sniper inhaled and exhaled, hugging Spy to him and falling asleep.

---

Sniper was feeling quite pleased with himself. Not only had he found the old rumpus room, he had found everything inside it too. That included the pool table (complete with cues, balls and chalk) which he was standing at. He weighed up a cue, then took the chalk and rubbed it over the tip, blowing away the stray dust.

Spy was feeling quite pleased with himself. Not only had he followed Sniper to the old rumpus room, he had found ... the rumpus room. The word rumpus made him chuckle to himself-- loud enough for Sniper to hear. It was deliberate.

Sniper raised an eyebrow at Spy. He was a hard person to amuse so it was unusual for him to chuckle. But Sniper was beginning to see more of his emotions lately, whether Spy meant it or not. "What's so funny?" he asked, gathering the balls and putting them in the cardboard triangle (the real one had apparently been lost).

"I was just thinking about how it 'orrible you probably are at billiards." Spy leaned over, spreading his fingers wide on the felt of the table. "See, the balls here are too close for you to hit. Maybe you should try walking away several feet and hide behind that shelf, then maybe you could hit them."

"Oh yeah?" Sniper asked, having set up the game. "Well, just don't forget to cloak before you get into position to shoot, otherwise they'll see you and hop out the way." It was probably a lame comeback but it would have to do. There was no time to hang about when it came to answering Spy.

Maybe it was so lame it was almost endearing. Spy cleared his throat, lest he accidentally smile. At least Sniper didn't suggest Spy dress up like one of them. "Oh-ho-ho." Sigh, he'll have to play and beat Sniper to prove a point now.

Sniper put the white ball in place then leaned down, lining up his cue. He slid it back and forth twice, before actually striking the ball and breaking the pack. It was a good break too - the balls bounced around the table before settling down. Sniper nodded to himself - not bad considering he was still wearing his hat and sunglasses.

Spy pretended he wasn't watching. He was too busy finding a cue, then working his Spy magic on it-- or talking to it, or chalking it, whatever he was pretending to do. (Sniper's little nod to himself was kind of cute) (No it wasn't). Spy stalled. "What do I get when I win?"

"A favour." Favours had quickly become their sort of bargaining chip. It didn't matter what they were doing, or what was being asked for: the current answer was 'a favour'. How exactly they used the favours hadn't been answered - Sniper had yet to call in any and Spy hadn't used any of his either. Sniper thought he heard Spy mutter to his cue, which was oddly funny - trying to sweet-talk it into doing his bidding.

Or demanding that it WORK however it was supposed to. Spy had never played a game of pool in his life. Things Spy have played include croquet, cards, and ...piano. That last one might not count but he did play it. Spy suddenly was mentally berating himself for not being perfect at everything. How did POOL slip off his résumé? He could knit and kill you in fifty different ways but he couldn't-- "For every ball I get into the-- the thing, there--" Spy wiggled his fingers at the nearest pocket, "I want one favour."

Sniper adjusted his shades at that. That was a lot of favours...but he was pretty confident in his ability to play. He had spent many summers hiding inside a garage with a pool table, a cue and his handful of friends, taking them on and trouncing them soundly. "Alright. Just keep in mind that for every ball I pocket, I get a favour." Same rules for everyone and that included the prizes. Sniper circled the table, deciding which ball to pocket first.

Spy was going to have to play dirty. (As if there was another way to play for Spy). He thought he'd test the waters. "What's that over there?" Look! Look over there!

"A bunny." Sniper leant over the table, not taking his eye off the ball. If it was anything dangerous, Spy would kill it. He drew back his arm and hit the cue ball so it collided head on with one of his striped ones. The striped ball bounced off the bumper and stopped just short of its intended pocket. Sniper mentally sighed to himself. He'd have to warm back into the game.

Oh, maybe Sniper was really awful? It was starting to look easier than Spy had originally thought. "Are you about done?" Really, he wasn't sure if it was his turn!

"Yeah, for this turn anyway." Sniper straightened and stood back, eager to watch Spy take a shot.

Spy was able to fool people into thinking he was their friend easily! He had a photographic memory for people's mannerisms. Spy mimicked the way Sniper held his cue, the way he prepared for a shot. However, he wasn't really sure how hard to hit it. Too softly would be silly, he really should bang it in there. --Except he hit it so hard, the little white ball jumped up into the air and to the other end of the table. Upon landing, it whacked another ball into the pocket. Surely, that counts?

Sniper didn't hide a chuckle. Either Spy was really good or very lucky. He had a feeling it was the latter, carefully watching Spy' expression as he hit it - Sniper had noticed a brief look of surprise when the ball became airborne. "Good shot. Think you can repeat it?"

"No, because that would be boring. You already saw that trick." And he couldn't possibly get that lucky twice. Spy stands and waits patiently; blissfully unaware he has another turn. "That's two favours now." Or one, but who's counting?

"Two?" Sniper questioned. Where did the extra one come from? "You only pocketed one ball! You gotta get another one in if you want two favours."

"Oh dear me, you know my English is ... how you say... off." Yadda yadda. Spy waved his hand. Whatever.

"Well, it's still your turn, so you can get your two favours yet." Sniper said casually, passing the cue between his hands.

"I knew that." No he didn't. Spy repeated the gestures and hit the ball slightly softer. It went in crazy zigzags and almost avoided all the balls. Too bad that wasn't the point of the game. Still, Spy smirked as if that were part of his plan.

Sniper smirked. The ball had stopped perfectly, practically kissing one of his own that was tiptoeing at the edge of a pocket. "Thanks mate." He gave it the lightest tap and in went the striped ball. One all.

"You're welcome." Of course, he had meant to do that. "Two-to-one!" Spy still had two points, didn't he?

Sniper ignored Spy and quickly moved around the table, leaning over it and lining up his shot. This one glanced off one of Spy's balls, which in turn hit one of his own into the pocket. "Two-to-one." He echoed Spy, standing up and considering his next move.

Spy is not impressed. "Oh." He held the cue like he was wringing its neck (if it had one). How dare it foul this up for him. He knew exactly what he'd use his saved up Favours for.

Sniper flashed a little smile to Spy, noticing his posture. Tense and rigid. First shot had definitely been lucky. He leaned over the table again, aiming the white ball for the bumper - he could bounce it off and hit one of his own, if he got the angle right.

"I have plans for these favours, you know." There are spider-webs under his bed. Can you imagine? Gross.

"So do I." There were spider-webs in his perch. He was pretty sure Spy already knew that. Sniper hit the ball but the trajectory wasn't quite right - the ball was hit at a funny angle and didn't go anywhere near the pocket.

"Oh!" It was Spy's turn now, wasn't it? Spy pretended to look out the window (they were below ground). "Who's that stealing your van?"

Sniper raised an eyebrow, looking at Spy, then at the wall, then back at Spy. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that this is Scout, not Spy. He couldn't even think of anything to say, so he merely lowered his shades so his eyes could be seen clearly, giving Spy a look.

Spy turned away, leaning his cue on the table. He folded his arms. "I don't want to play this game anymore."

Sniper pushed his glasses back onto his nose and approached Spy, shaking his head and smiling. "Why not?"

"It's boring. Terribly boring." He didn't want to lose anymore.

"What else is there to do? Besides, you've been holding the cue wrong." Maybe. Sniper couldn't quite remember but he could easily tell that Spy was either not good at this game or completely new to it.

Spy let out a long sigh. "Maybe you're holding it wrong. I want to cash in my favour now."

"Oh?" Sniper stood next to Spy, still holding his cue like a staff or a cane. It looked like he'd have to try and find somebody else to play pool with.

"Stop talking." Ha! Spy smirked.

Sniper smiled charmingly. He could stop talking, but it wasn't going to stop him. He wasn't Scout after all! He brushed past Spy and leaned over the table again, lining up another shot. He could play by himself, since he wasn't allowed to talk and Spy wasn't going to play with him.

Spy glanced back. He should have used his favour to tell Sniper to stop leaning over things like that. Those shoulders make Spy weak. "It's only fair to use one of your favours now, too."

Had Spy already forgotten that he couldn't talk? He made the shot, thinking of how to use his favour as he casually rounded around the table, surveying it as he would the battlegrounds through his scope.

Spy tapped his foot. He knew he told Sniper to be quiet, but he kind of wanted to see if he'd go back on it. (Then Spy could have his favour back). "Well, I'm going to leave now!" The only reason someone would announce it that way would be to get you to beg them to stay.

"Hold up. I'm still thinking." Sniper said, leaning over the table again and making another neat shot. He stood up and thought about his favour, figuring out how to use it. "Let me teach you." He stood up straight, having a feeling that this was either a good idea or a very bad one.

"Aha!" Spy pointed at Sniper. "I get my favour back." Spy returned to his spot at the table and waited for Sniper. He wasn't going to agree to be taught, because that would be admitting he didn't know.

"What? No you don't!" Slimy Spy. "You were talking to me." He walked around the table so he was next to Spy again.

"I do. It's Law." Don't ask any more questions, pretty bird. "And you keep talking."

"Because you keep talking." And it keeps you talking, so Sniper gets to listen to that accent for longer. Whether out of curiosity or finding it appeasing, he wasn't sure himself.

"I'll let you teach me if you give me my favour back." Spy looked off in another direction. This was a big deal, even if Sniper didn't realize it. Last offer, take it or leave it.

Sniper thought about it. Then he nodded, with a little smile. "Deal." He had an extra favour from this game anyway.

"Fine." Spy crossed his arms and gave a quick glance back at Sniper. "Well?"

Sniper put a hand on Spy's back and gently, but firmly, pushed him so he was leaning over the table, pressing the cue into his hands.

Spy then realized that he wasn't breathing. How did that slip past him? He let out the air he didn't realize he was holding in and hoped that Sniper wouldn't notice. He took the cue in his hands and held it the way he saw Sniper hold it.

Sniper leaned over Spy, putting his hands over Spy's and adjusting them. "See, like this." He pulls Spy's left hand onto the table and places the cue tip along the index finger, to help his aim. Sniper was very aware of how close they were but, truthfully, he taught better when the lesson was practical. And when his student was pretty attractive.

How long has Spy had these breathing problems? This was disconcerting. He wonders if he should go to Med-- nooo. "Fine, fine, yes, I was going to do it that way..."

Sniper's mouth was just slightly above Spy's mask covered ear. "Then, you just follow your finger." Sniper demonstrated, pulling back the cue (still holding it over Spy's hand) and striking forward, hitting the white ball so it glanced off one of the others and sunk it into the pocket.

Spy smirked. "Oh, will you look at that, you owe me another favour."

Sniper smirked too. How cute, Spy being so cunning. But not really. "I don't think so."

"I'm holding the cue and it is my turn and the ball went into the thingie. I get another favour." Spy was very cunning, Sniper is probably just made he didn't call dibs on it first.

Sniper chuckled directly into Spy's ear. "True, true and true. But the problem is - that ball was striped. But, I could let it go..." he trailed off, as if wondering if he should. He still hadn't moved from leaning over Spy.

"It's fine, let it go... to me. That's fine." Spy was well aware of Sniper's location. "Is that all there is to this?"

"Pretty much. Unless you want to go into trajectories and how hard to hit the ball." The hand that had guided Spy's left hand onto the table retreated, folding and lying horizontally under Spy. Sniper had noticed that he was leaning a bit too much on Spy, even if he did feel so comfortable. He'd let the extra favour go. Spy needed it.

Spy tried to hit the ball without Sniper's help. It worked out pretty good, knocking the rest of the balls around. However, nothing went into the pocket. Spy laughed, and it was completely genuine.

Sniper smiled and nodded. "Better!" He drew his other hand back to join his other, letting Spy have complete control of the cue. It also meant he was loosely hugging Spy, which felt very nice, especially as Spy laughed.

Spy went again, nearly getting a ball pocketed. It was kind of fun! Spy then realized where Sniper was in reference to himself. He shifted his shoulders, a warning that he was going to stand up straight. "Ahem."

"Ah, sorry mate." Sniper drew away from Spy and stood back, admiring Spy's arse, back and shoulders. Only a sweeping glance though; it'd be rude to stare, no matter how handsome those features were.

Spy hasn't been new at something for years upon years. He didn't really like being taught anything. But at least Sniper wasn't a jackass about it. Didn't mean Spy wouldn't be an asshole about learning. "Is that all, then?"

"Yeah. Rest of it is practice." Sniper said casually, walking past Spy and picking up the abandoned cue. He was careful to not look at Spy, worried his imagination might egg him into doing something.

You know what happens when you try not to think of pink elephants. "They say practice makes perfect, but no one is perfect."

"Even you?" Sniper didn't resist grinning at that, looking at Spy curiously. Normally Spy was the personification of suave and refused to reveal when he had trouble doing anything.

"Oh, I'm not perfect. I'm no Mary Poppins." Spy dusted off his jacket. Ew, he's got Australian on him.

Sniper's smile widened for a second before it returned to it's milder tone, as Sniper looked back at the table. "So, do you want to continue the game or...?" He wouldn't remind restarting if Spy wanted. He just wanted to spend some more time here.

"Or what?" The Or part was the most intriguing part of that sentence.

"Or, is there something else you'd rather do?" A good answer. Kept the options open and meant it was largely up to Spy. Sniper watched him, waiting for the reply.

Spy was amused, so completely amused. "Oh ho, I think maybe there's something else you'd rather do."

"Oh? Like what?" Sniper fully turned to face Spy now, idly toying with his cue. It was always interesting to see Spy try and second-guess what he was thinking or wanted. Or rather, to see what hints Spy would drop concerning what he wanted, but wasn't going to say he wanted. Sniper wasn't sure if this was endearing or annoying.

Spy smirked. Sniper was attempting to play a game with him. It was kind of cute. "You tell me. It's not as if I can read your mind, birdy."

Spy was playing a game with h- wait. Wait. "Birdy?" Sniper set aside his cue. "Did you just call me 'Birdy', mate?"

Spy blinked slowly. "What? No."

"You did! You called me Birdy." Sniper smirked. "So, where did that come from?" he advanced slowly up to Spy.

Advancing? Spy didn't move, despite wanting to take a few steps back. As nice as it was to kiss Sniper the other day, that couldn't happen again. "I do not know what you are talking about."

"Don't play stupid." Sniper stopped a foot in front of Spy - the grey zone of personal space intrusion. The shades half hid his face - so while the smirk on his lips was clear to see, his eyes were hidden.

"I'm going to cash in a favour. Take off your glasses." Spy was glad for these favours. They made it so he could ask for things without actually asking.

Sniper would question it, but...it was a favour. He didn't question the way Spy was using his favours. So he obeyed, pulling off his glasses and looking back at Spy. His green eyes were lit harshly by the artifical light, making them a deeper green then they normally were.

Oh, merde. Spy apparently wanted to see how good his will power was. "Your eyes are beady, like a bird's."

Sniper raised an eyebrow. "Wait, so you gave me a nickname because of how my eyes look?" He went to put his glasses back on - he wasn't insulted by Spy's comment but he assumed that the point had been made.

"Ah ah ah, keep them off." Spy was still sort of smiling, it was as hard as ever to guess what it was about.

Sniper lowered them again, shifting his weight a bit. He really hated how hard it was to read Spy's facial expressions. It annoyed him. "So, why are you giving me a nickname now?" Spy could've given him a nickname anytime. Why now?

Spy came to the conclusion that fighting this any longer was getting him nowhere. "Do you not like it?"

"I like it." Sniper replied. He didn't even have to think about it. "I'm just curious as to why it's cropping up now."

"If you like it, then the why does not matter." He liked it. Spy liked that.

"Well, it means I should give you a nickname now, doesn't it?" It seemed right to Sniper anyway. But Spy was very picky in his tastes...so he'd need to pick a good nickname for the Spook.

Spy smiled politely. Oh, this is going so well, aren't they just such good friends-- "No."

"No?" Sniper questioned. He had to resist the urge to move, to circle Spy or walk around. Damn Spies and their double standards.

"No." Spy's hands were getting restless, his fingers getting bored. He felt a strange sensation that he might have been something related to nervousness. He patted his front pocket. Oui, cigs were still there. That was comforting enough for now.

"Why not?" Sniper drummed his fingers against his trousers. If Spy gave him some half-arsed answer...

En guard! "Why?" Touche!

That wasn't even half-arsed. That was a no-arsed answer. "Because I asked, Spooky." He crept closer to Spy as he spoke.

"No, why would you give me a nickname? Either it is a term of endearment or you do not like my current name."

"I'll assume you dislike calling me Sniper and you can assume what you want about my reasons." A little from both columns really. Spy wasn't much of a name since it was his job. But that wasn't the complete reason.

"I am not going to assume anything." That was disgusting. How dare he! "Just answer the question."

Urgh, fine! "Alright, it's mostly a term of endearment from me. Why? Is that a bad thing?" Sniper knew they'd get nowhere unless someone started being blunt, and more often than not it was him. He was now standing directly in front of Spy, still holding his glasses in one hand.

Spy reached out for the glasses. He was polite enough to not just snatch them away. "Endearment." Heh.

"Yeah..." Sniper was watching Spy's face too closely to notice him reaching for his glasses. There were no indicators as to what Spy was thinking - piss.

Spy continues to reach until it turns into a grab. Ooh, shiny. "Why are you wearing these indoors?"

Sniper cast a glance to his glasses, now slipping into Spy's hands. He tightened his hold, so Spy held one half and he held the other. "Part of the uniform. You haven't told me whether endearment is a good or a bad thing yet." Nice try, magpie.

"It is probably a bad thing. Would you agree?" Attachments only lead to a tangled mess that must be severed.

Probably. That word seemed key. "Probably." Sniper echoed. "But...was I right in thinking that you called me Birdy because you prefer it over Sniper?" This conversation was treading into a dangerous zone, but he felt that he had to ask.

Spy shrugged. "Maybe." He pulled slightly on the glasses.

"Maybe isn't good enough." Sniper let his hand follow Spy's pull on his glasses. This was important. Sniper didn't know why but it was important to him that Spy be honest. Or at least give a straight answer.

"Why do you want to know?" This game was starting to become fun! Maybe he would get the glasses if he won.

Sniper counted quickly to five. He needed to keep his temper in check for this. "I want to know why you gave me a nickname. Was it endearment or because you don't like calling me Sniper?" Damnit, why did he care so much?

Why did he care so much? Spy pulled more. "Why do you keep asking?"

Why won't you answer?" Sniper tugged slightly back at his glasses. Answer and you can have them!

"Why do you care so much?" Spy flashed his teeth. It wasn't really a smile.

Sniper froze at that, just breathing and looking at Spy. Then he let go of the glasses and went to stride out the room. He can't be dealing with this.

Spy paused. He held the glasses up to his face-- just for a moment, long enough to see what Sniper saw through them. He attempted to get Sniper to stop with a sigh and his words, "Endearment, you ninny."

Sniper stopped and turned around, carefully looking over Spy's face. Then he smiled softly and returned. "Good. I don't want to be the only one sticking my neck out here." He didn't attempt to take back his glasses but used them as a means to hold Spy's hand without the assassin getting too suspicious, acting as if he was toying with the glasses rather than Spy's hand.

Almost playfully, Spy insisted, "Where-is-your-neck, Sniper?"

"In a pretty dodgy place." A very dodgy place really. If swapping terms of endearment with a Spy and hoping for more wasn't a hazardous place to be, then Sniper didn't know what was.
getting close to wrapping up kinda. You know?

"It really is a dodgy place." Spy wouldn't deny that, not one bit.

Sniper nodded. "Good to know we're on the same page." He considered for a moment - then figured that he was already screwed. Sniper leaned forward and quickly kissed Spy, taking his glasses from Spy's hand as he pulled away. He didn't look up to Spy's face afterwards, suddenly embarrassed and wondering if he was about to get cut up.

Spy tilted his head. His mouth formed what looked like the beginning of 'what' or maybe perhaps 'quoi.' They look the same from a distance. "That is dodgy."

"It is." Sniper said. He debated putting on his glasses...then just tucked them over the collar of his shirt. There didn't seem to be a point in putting them on.

"Do you often put your neck where it can be so easily cut?" Yeah, Spy was amused.

Sniper breathed in deeply, already thinking that he should be leaving. He cast a glance to the door, then looked aimlessly around - he just couldn't look at Spy. "No."

"I beg to differ." Aha, work humor.

Sniper shot Spy a look. "Course. You never put yourself out there, do ya?" he straightened up, a small twitch of a smile on his lips.

"Oh no, never." He was too sneaky for that. Maybe he should try it.

"I beg to differ." Unless this was all some mindfuck Spy was pulling on him. If it was, Spy would wish respawn didn't exist by the time he was done with him. But it didn't feel like a mindfuck...but that was the point of a mindfuck. Fuck.

Spy scoffed. He returned to mild surprise. "What. When."

"When you asked when I was going to kiss you." Blunt and honest - the best way to deal with a Spy's trickery and language games. When you got tired of playing the part of course.

"Oh. That. Oui." Spy didn't like to think of that as sticking his neck out. Because it worked in the end. "I suppose a bit of risk can be worth it."

Sniper didn't resist the smile on his face, looking directly at Spy. "It can be half the fun."

Spy made a face, his lips forming something related to a frown. Somewhat. "You have a point there."

"Hey, don't worry." Sniper moved a little closer to Spy, his lips an inch from Spy's. Now, where had this happened before? "You're the master of getting out of trouble, aren't ya?"

"I am." And with that, Spy gently pushed on Sniper's chest and ducked off to the side. Smell of smoke and loss of Spy.

Sniper stood alone for a bit - long enough to be sure Spy was gone - and sighed deeply to himself, holding back the urge to swear. Of course, he had to make Spooky get all jittery and run off like that. Why was he getting so involved in this anyway? Spy had asked for a kiss. Once. And it was all probably just a part of the game to him. Sniper plucked up his glasses and put them on, leaving the room as if nothing had happened there.

Spy couldn't resist the perfect time to escape. He wanted to leave Sniper wanting more, which ... apparently Sniper wanted some in the first place, making "more" even more interesting.

--

Every year, near the beginning of December, the supply trains would have a couple extra things. Spy found some mistletoe in a box with several boxes of instant mashed potatoes and decided to play around with it. He hung it up by the horseshoe on the Sniper's deck and waited, cloaked. This was too easy!

Sniper walked up to the battlements, following the Heavy Weapons Guy. Apparently the big guy wanted to see if he could mow down some enemies from up there, even if he would basically be a big fat target for the enemy Sniper. He talked loudly to Sniper as they approached, asking questions about visibility and such. Hopefully it wouldn't take long for Heavy to realize that he'd be bored up here - Sniper didn't find the idea of sharing his workspace very appealing.

Spy didn't move. What was Heavy doing up here? This was going to ruin everything! Shoo, fat man, shoo!

Heavy walked through first and stood on the edge of the battlements, looking over the battlefield. He nodded to himself. "Da, is good view!" Sniper brought up the rear less than a minute later, wearing his new crocodile tooth hat and usual shades.

Spy moved around the two, sneaking up to Sniper. He wasn't near the mistletoe, but he could try something. He gave a quick invisible peck to Sniper's cheek.

Sniper felt something press against his cheek. He looked around, bringing a hand up to his face. As Heavy walked around, surveying the battlements critically, Sniper wondered back to the doorway. Had a ghost kissed him and run off? Spooky seemed fond of doing that.

Spy used his shoulder to nudge Sniper in the middle of his back. He was trying to nudge him to the doorway where the mistletoe hung.

Sniper felt a little push and stepped forward under the doorway, turning to see if that was Heavy. But no, he was talking to his gun about the advantage of the position. Maybe the ghost was still around here?

Spy finally uncloaked. He put both hands on Sniper's shoulders and hopped up, wrapping his legs around the man. Who cares if Heavy's there-- Spy kissed Sniper on the lips.

Sniper, not expecting Spy to jump on him, fell backwards and landed on his arse, making a muffled sound of surprise against Spy's lips. Then he began to kiss him back, an arm wrapped around his shoulders.

Spy made a pleased sound, glad Sniper was there to break his fall and kissing him back. If they weren't careful, this could get out of hand pretty quick.

Heavy was done talking to Sasha and was about to ask Sniper something, when he saw what was happening. He merely shook his head and left. At least he and Medic understood the meaning of privacy and how to be subtle.

Sniper heard Heavy shut up and leave. Good, because he doubted he'd be able to remove the Spy from his lap. Partly because Spy had both of Sniper's arms around him now.

Spy broke the kiss to trash talk, "What were you doing with him!" He knew it was nothing, but enjoyed teasing Sniper.

"Nothing! He just wanted to see if this would be a good place to take his precious gun out on a date." Sniper replied indignantly. Truthfully, he found it amusing that Spy would be so possessive of him.

"That is right, cher, he is not your type." Spy wiggled on top of Sniper, suggestive little movements.

"Oh yeah?" Sniper squirmed slightly at Spy's movements. Damn teaser! He still managed to smirk at Spy. "What do you reckon is my type then,darl?"

"Your type is tall-dark-and-handsome." Spy leaned towards Sniper's ear to share this tidbit with him, licking the lobe as he finished.

"Bit like a rogue?" Sniper murmured into Spy's ear. He nipped at the lobe through the fabric of Spy's mask. Well, he was right about his type.

"You could say that..." Spy moved again, grinding up against Sniper. He then realized /where/ they were. "But perhaps now is not a good time for you to be saying that."

Sniper chuckled. He knew that if there was no-one else on the base, Spy would probably have no qualms about their location. "When would be a good time for me to be saying that?" Sniper asked, raising his hips and returning Spy's grind.

"That should be a surprise, don't you think?" What's the fun in /knowing/ when you're going to get your bones jumped?

"It should be, shouldn't it? But the mistletoe gives a bit of a hint." Sniper had noticed it during his fall. "Tell me, have you put any more mistletoe around?" This could become a game.

"I have a few more stashed away. Do you think you could find them?" You had to make your own fun around here. A perfect example was Sniper and Spy's relationship.

"Maybe. Is there a prize for finding them all?" If finding the first one got him a Spy in his lap, Sniper can't help but wonder what the rest of the mistletoe will bring him.

"Oh /yes/." Oh, like he'd tell you, Sniper? "Use your imagination."

"I won't have to." Sniper leaned close to Spy stopping an inch from his lips. Sniper would find all the mistletoe and claim his prize. No need to waste time imagining it when he could be getting it.

"You are so sure of yourself." Spy pulled away. No freebies for him. He began to right himself and stand.

Sniper stood up, readjusting his hat. "How many of those stalks am I looking for?" Game on.

Spy wondered if he should lie. That'd be fun. "I have four." Three.

One out of five, four left to find. Sniper nodded to himself. "Do I any clues or should I be on my way?"

"Haha, clues? No. You're a hunter. You can't find some stationary plants?" Pah.

Sniper lowered his hat a little. "I'll catch you Spook." Then he turned and walked briskly off into the base. No point wasting time when he had mistletoe to find!

Spy kind of wanted Sniper to win, but it might be more fun to watch him looking. He liked it when Sniper was desperate.

Where were Spy hide mistletoe? Places the rest of the team wouldn't go, Sniper was sure. Maybe places they frequented? To test his theory, Sniper headed to to the rumpus room, looking around for the plant in the door frame on on the ceiling with his head held high.

Spy went back to his room and found a book he hadn't read in awhile. And then... he waited.

Sniper didn't find anything in the rumpus room or in the corridors. Too obivious evidently. Maybe there was a clue as to where they were in Spy's room? So Sniper went there. He debated knocking - but he'd need an excuse for the event of Spy being there. He wasn't giving up!

Spy was still reading. He had his mask off and everything. Sniper would be awhile-- and by the time he got to Spy, he'd be completely enraged. It would be hot.

Sniper decided to go for the direct approach - not going on. He'd keep looking. He did this about four times before realizing that he just /couldn't/ find any! So by the time he came back to Spy's room, completely stumped, he was annoyed. So he didn't knock when he went in.

Spy was actually startled. He's never caught off guard. "Ah!" His book dropped to the floor.

Sniper shut the door with a hint of a slam. "Right." He approached Spy, pleased to have surprised him but not showing it. "Where the bloody hell is it?"

"Where is what?" Spy grinned, quickly trying to think of things he could put in place of 'it.'

"Where's the damn mistletoe?" Sniper demanded, standing over Spy with his arms folded. He /knew/ he had looked everywhere, and nobody else would touch the plant if they saw it.

Spy stood up and put his hand in his pocket. He slowly pulled out a sprig of mistletoe. "Would you look at that!"

Sniper gave Spy a look. "You sent me off looking for mistletoe you were carrying /on/ you?" That was annoying and frustrating - why didn't he see this coming?

"...you didn't ask if that was part of the game!" It was so obvious, Sniper!

Sniper grabbed Spy by the arms and pushed him back, falling with him onto the bed. "You bloody tease." he growled. Then he kissed Spy on the lips. He loved being teased.

Spy dropped the mistletoe now. He mumbled something against Sniper's lips. It was probably something like, 'But you like it!'

Sniper made sure he kissed Spy right. Slow and probing, with a touch of roughness in the how he played with Spy's tongue and gave small nips at his his bottom lip.

Spy forgot all about what he was doing, what he was saying, what he was reading... where he was, even. He wriggled under Sniper, making one wonder if he was trying to get away or was maybe enjoying it too much.

Sniper had a thought. Quite a mean thought really. He considered his newly formed idea as he lifted his body off Spy slightly, resting on his hands and knees. Their lips only parted briefly, Sniper licking his lips before kissing Spy again.

Spy just smiled lazily at Sniper when he broke the kiss. He even followed him, arching his body and siting up a bit himself.

Sniper sat back on his knees, careful to keep kissing Spy without breaking contact. Sniper had noticed that Spy had followed after him. He wondered if Spy would notice what he was doing.

Spy had to pull himself up by using Sniper's shoulders. Stop moving! Come back!

One of Sniper's legs secretly slid out from under him, lowering from the bed. His foot brushed onto the floor. And the whole time, Sniper made sure he kept Spy's attention on his mouth, a hand touching one of Spy's on his shoulder.

Spy was distracted. He was honestly thinking the whole time, 'Eventually he's going to stop kissing me and I will get laid.' That was Spy's train of thought anytime they kissed.

Sniper stroked the watch on Spy's wrist. He's patient. He's been drugged up, forced to tell his secrets one time and beg the other, has to endure all sorts of teasing, Spy's "Here I am, No I'm not" nature. This was just the perfect chance. Sniper undid the watch as discretely as he could, moving his lips to Spy's neck and nipping and sucking on a spot where he knew Spy was sensitive.

Spy turned his head (away from the watch, how convenient) and sighed happily, "Oh cher, you aren't so mad at me, now are you?"

"I never am, am I?" Sniper murmured, slipping the watch into his hand. He moved back to Spy's lips and gave him another kiss before standing, walking slowly towards the door and giving Spy a soft smile.

Spy watched Sniper get up and head towards the door. "What, forget to lock it--" He looked down at his wrist. "Quoi?"

Sniper's soft smile took a more mischievous turn, as something glinted in his eyes behind the aviators. Spy was right. Don't get mad - get even. "I'll see you arounddarl." He pressed down on the watch, activating the cloaking device.

Spy's mouth dropped open. "Sacre bleu!" Merde, did he really just say that? ALOUD?

Sniper chuckled, loud enough for Spy to hear and disappeared, walking, then running. The look on Spy's face alone had been worth it!

Spy was so embarrassed. He let Sniper lift his watch, he let SNIPER get away! The only way it would have been more embarrassing would be if he let Scout get away with such a thing.

(A bit later)

Sniper was quite pleased with how that went. He had pocketed his own watch and had been playing with Spy's for a little while. Right now he was relaxing in the main room, reading a magazine and listening to Demo and Soldier arm wrestle. He wondered if Spy would try with the two of them in the same room, especially since he couldn't cloak

Spy was so shamed that he didn't show up for quite awhile. Hours passed, even. Spy had his mask back on, his tie nice and straight. He walked into the main room (act casual) and cleared his throat (say nothing).

Sniper had been lying on the sofa, with his feet up. At hearing the sound he looked up at Spy slightly, before swinging his feet off the sofa and sitting properly. "G'day Spy." Normal and casual as can be.

He nodded at Sniper, nodded at the heathens at the table. "Sniper, gentlemen." Casual like.

"After something?" Sniper asked, returning to his magazine but still very aware of where Spy was. Spy could want anything. A book, a cup of coffee, some smokes. Who knew?


"Oh. Not really." I hate you, filthy jar man.

"Well, park yourself and make yourself comfortable." Take a seat Spy. Sniper maintained a neutral expression, although he did look back to Spy.

Spy walked over to an old chair. He sat and crossed his legs. Stay cool.

Sniper picked up his coffee and took a slow sip, putting his feet up again with his head resting on the arm of the chair. Soldier and Demo had largely ignored them but it sounded like they were beginning to get bored of arm wrestling. Maybe they were going to go elsewhere, judging by the movement of chairs Sniper heard.

Spy whispered, "Give it back."

"Hmm?" Sniper put down the magazine, undoing the watch from his wrist. A game is fun, but he didn't know how patient Spy would be if he refused. He held out the watch from Spy to take, drinking some more of his coffee and putting the cup down. Demo and Soldier loudly left, probably to have a real (insert national pride of your choice) fight.

Wow, that was easy. Spy reached out for the watch. "You horrible bastard."

"Horrible bastard?" Sniper repeated, fingers curling over the watch and hand drawing back. Now that was just /rude/.

Spy tilted his head, "Now wait, I meant you lovely bastard."

"Sure you did." Sniper said lightly. He held the watch between two fingers, letting it swing like a pendelum.

"Are you really going to do this to me?"

"Do what?" Sniper asked innocently, crossing a leg over the others knee.

"Tease me." Spy knew how stupid it sounded.

"Not sure." Sniper let the watch swing temptingly. Spy could just take it. He was letting himself be teased really.

"You aren't sure why?" Spy went to snatch the watch. This was getting silly.

Sniper let Spy take the watch. "Well, I don't want to end up pissing you off now, do I?" Here's an interesting role reversal. Now Sniper was lying back, Spy looming over him.

Spy took his watch and put it back on. He exhaled through his nostrils loudly. Wow, he was reminding himself of someone. "Shut up."

Sniper sat up. This was interesting. "You seem a bit riled up love." A sort of half smirk was on his face. It was fun to see Spy without his continuous cool, but it was a bit dangerous too.

Spy looked away, like an pissy cat. "I will shoot you in the face."

"Then I best leave." Sniper stood up and looked up at the ceiling, offhandedly. He shrugged to himself and gave Spy a peck on the cheek, moving to leave.

Spy's hand shot out and he grabbed Sniper by the collar. "You owe me."

"What?" Sniper had been tugged around when he had been grabbed, one hand curling over Spy's on his collar. He didn't want to be chokedafterall.

"You tricked me. Before you were sneaky and underhanded, you were going to give me something. You owe me." Simple as that.

"I thought getting caught under the mistletoe only meant you were obliged to give out kisses."

"Yes, but you didn't find them all!" This Spy logic was a strange sort.

"So technically, I shouldn't have kissed you." Spy logic? What is that? (No really, Sniper had no idea).

Spy blinked and let go of Sniper's collar. He sniffed. "Fine."

Sniper gave Spy a roguish smile. He leaned forward and kissed Spy anyway, a little shadow of the kiss they had been talking about. "Hey, that hasn't stopped me before."

Spy sighed. "You'd be a terrible Spy."

"Good thing I'm not a Spy then." Sniper smirked.

"You are also wrapped around my finger, you know that?"

"That's funny. Usually you're wrapped around me, shouting out in French and encouraging me to be harder with you."

Spy's face twitched. "I don't know what you're talking about.

"Need reminding?" Sniper asked, his tone both casual and teasing. He leaned close and gave Spy another peck, just shy of his mouth.

Spy turned his head again, trying to avoid Sniper. "Non." Oh god yes.

"Sure about that beauty?" Sniper followed Spy's face and kissed him properly, lips on lips, tongue coming forward curiously.

Spy gave Sniper a shove. "Non-- er, Yes."

"/Non/?" Sniper pushed on, holding Spy's upper arms and kissing him again. Always so resistant.

Spy's breath caught. He liked it when Sniper didn't take no for an answer (was that wrong?). "Non."

"So you're not sure." Sniper smirked against Spy's lips quite devilishly. "Need help making up your mind darl?"

Spy paused. Sniper is a sexy genius."Yes."

"I wonder," Sniper murmured, "how I can help you with that." His lips moved across Spy's jaw up to his ear as he spoke, his arms encircling the assassin.

Spy suddenly seemed disinterested. "Yes, I wonder how you might."

Sniper ducked and quite suddenly hoisted Spy over his shoulder, holding Spy with two hands as he began to walk off to his van.

Spy did not expect such a thing to happen. That was why he liked Sniper. The crazy bastard kept doing unexpected things. But as per normal, Spy could not be taken easily. He squirmed and punched at Sniper's back, "Unhand me!"

Sniper pretended to not hear Spy or feel the thumps on his back. Well, he tried to, but if Spy kept fidgeting he'd end up on the floor. "Hold still, you slippery snake." He very casually strolled through the base, fully aware that they might be seen.

Spy did not find this romantic, nor did he even find this funny-- but he knew that at the end, something good would happen. He continued to fight, mostly for show.

They passed the RED Pyro in the hallway. He had a plate with a sandwich on it. "Hudda?"

"Evening mate." Sniper nodded to Pyro, adjusting his hold on Spy. "I told you to stop squirming." He said to Spy.

Spy kneed Sniper (not too hard, he didn't want to tumble to the ground). He yelled in French, but no one would understand, "Your mother was a pig and your father was a mailbox!" Hell, they wouldn't understand that in English.

Sniper didn't understand the French but he understood the action of being kneed. He slapped Spy's arse, not bothering to try and reply to whatever Spy had said.

Spy gasped.

So did Pyro, who was kind of following them. With his sandwich.

"There. That shut you up now, didn't it?" Sniper was quite pleased at that. Mainly because Spy wasn't kneeing him. He noticed Pyro following them and the immediate question of /why/ came to mind. "Need something?" he asked the sandwich bearing teammate.

Spy didn't move for a moment. He just went completely limp. And then he raised his knee again. OH, hit him again.

"Hudda?" Pyro followed Sniper and Spy, using one hand (the one without the sandwich) to gesture something vague. "Sprr chkk?"

"No, this is definitely our Spy. No need to check him." Sniper's voice rumbled slightly, since he had been hit again. He gave Spy another slap, right over the previous one. "If he wasn't ours, he wouldn't be kicking me." He'd be backstabbing him.

Pyro held his sandwich up and looked at it closely. At least that's what it appeared he was doing. "Whrr rr yrr crring hm?

Because I need to screw him so hard he won't be able to walk. "Bloke said he needed a lift."

Pyro put his free hand on his hip. "Hmm hmm." Weirdos. He then turned and took his sandwich for a walk elsewhere.

Spy thumped Sniper on the back again. "I never said such a thing!"

"You said you needed help making up your mind, didn't you?" Sniper smirked, walking outside.

"Where are you taking me?" Spy went limp again. Might as well enjoy the ride.

"That'd be telling." Spies love surprises, don't they?

Spy was grasping at straws. He cloaked.

Sniper chuckled at that. Luckily he arrived at his van and only had to kick the door to open it.

Spy uncloaked. "Oh come on!" Seriously? He carried him the whole way there and now he's kicking the door open? "I'm not your blushing bride!"

"I know. Most brides don't knee their grooms." Sniper pointed out, nevertheless still carrying Spy as he went in and kicked the door shut.

"I'm not a bride!" At least they were inside, he could get loose now. Part of him wanted to storm out.

"I just agreed with you that you weren't!" Spy would be a pretty rubbish bride anyway. Sniper finally let go of Spy, grabbing a hold of his hips and flipping him onto the bed.

Spy was just a little surly, leave him be. He bounced when he hit the bed. For a moment, he just lie there. Look sultry before you storm out!

Sniper leaned over and kissed Spy. Good, pretty ghost.

Spy put a hand on Sniper's chest and shoved. "Don't even pull that shit again."

"What would you rather I do?" Sniper's hands traced the lines of Spy's suit, slipping under the jacket and running up and down in between the out layer and whatever layer was underneath his fingers. Sniper didn't know, except that there was fabric either side.

Spy was flustered. This was unusual and he hated it. "Don't embarrass me."

"I don't mean to." Sniper withdrew his hands and kissed Spy's cheek.

"Make it worth my while, you dolt."

Sniper kissed Spy on the lips, with a lot more promise than earlier. He undid Spy's jack and wrapped his arms around him under that layer of clothing.

"Non." He pushed him away again. "If you are going to make me look like a lady and carry me all the way here, at least continue in that way."

"You want me to keep treating you like a lady?" Sniper asked, raising an eyebrow. "Doesn't seem like you /sweetheart/, but if that's what you want--"

Spy shoved Sniper again, "No! I'm-- treat me like a man." Goddamn, he wasn't sure if he wanted to pin the bastard or shoot him.

Sniper smirked. Then pinned down Spy's wrists above his head and gave him a bruising kiss, with a forceful tongue and sharp little nips at his lips.

Merde, he really thought Sniper would never do that. He arched his body up to show how thankful he was. (Though, he continued to fight a little, attempting to wriggle his wrists free).

Sniper grinded his body against Spy's, pinning him down with his weight and little movements. Holding Spy's wrists in one hand (slightly trickier but manageable), Sniper used his spare hand to start to undo Spy's clothing.

"You don't think you need both hands for this?" After all, Spy had a lot of clothing. That and he was looking to get shut up.

"If I use both hands, that means I can't hold you down anymore. And we both know how you love that." Sniper was beginning to get impatient. Would it be so bad to rip it off? Just this once?

"Who said that? I don't know /what/ you're talking about!" WHY I NEVER, etc. Spy squirmed, trying to rile up Sniper more.

Sniper pulled off Spy's tie and wrapped it tightly around Spy's wrists. "Oh, I think you do." He gave Spy a roguish smirk, both hands darting to his clothes

Spy jerked forward when his tie was pulled off, "

143 .

...I feel like something is missing. Maybe it's the lonely little quotation mark at the end, but it makes me suspicious. Is this truly the end of the fic?

144 .

Just to Make Myself Attractive to You: part 5ish?

(I don't know why the last person left off at that point, but the very least I can do is not leave you hanging on the bedroom scene. If I stepped on someones toes, my apologies.)

Sniper pulled off Spy's tie and wrapped it tightly around Spy's wrists. "Oh, I think you do." He gave Spy a roguish smirk, both hands darting to his clothes

Spy jerked forward when his tie was pulled off, "Urk-- oh ... oh you dirty boy, you." He tested the strength of his tie.

Sniper ignored the dirty boy comment to rip open Spy's clothing. Fuck it. Or better yet, fuck Spy. He gave Spy's body a predatory grin before he lowered his lips to the smooth torso, scraping his teeth against it.

Spy tilted his head to look, "You will sew each and every one of those buttons back!"

"You're going to /make/ me?" Sniper asked, looking up from Spy's chest to raise an eyebrow at him with a smug look.

Spy's body relaxed and he gazed up at the ceiling. "Somehow, sure."

Sniper was suddenly at Spy's neck a hand pulling off his mask so he could bite over the faded marks. He had to keep them fresh but it wasn't as if it was much of a chore.

Spy moved his head, assisting with the removal. "I thought you'd never do that."

"You don't seem to be very good at predicting what I'll do darl." One hand held the back of Spy's throat, holding it steady as Sniper bit and licked at the delicious skin. The other was working on Spy's fly.

"And that's why I adore you. Have I told you that lately?" Spy's wrists tugged and shifted under the tie. It was a little annoying.

"No. Actually, you've never said that." Ah good, it was open. Sniper's hand snaked in, pressing against Spy as he rose up slightly, nipping at Spy's jaw.

Spy could act as uninterested as he wanted, but his body wouldn't lie. He moved his hips to meet Sniper's hand, already fully hard. "I do. I suppose."

"Good. Because I love you when you're so resistant." Sniper curled his hand over Spy through his boxers, giving him a few jerks before he worked at getting rid of that last barrier.

"You do enjoy when I have a bit of a fight in me, don't you?" Well he should oblige. Spy's fingers curved downwards, attempting to get a hold of his tie. He moved his hips to the side, trying to deny Sniper anymore below-the-belt action.

Sniper grinded his entire body against Spy, trying to pin him down without using his hands. One was still trying to remove Spy's underwear and the other grabbed Spy's wrists again. "It's more fun this way."

Spy has gotten out of crazier places. He could get out of a tie-- Sniper grabbing him certainly put a damper on that. He arched his back just a bit, enough so that Sniper could get his pants off. Playing hard-to-get was fun, but up to a point. There comes a time when pants have to be removed.

Sniper smiled to himself, taking in all of the now-naked Spy before him. Beautiful. Something about the fact that Spy was completely bare, while he was still wearing all his clothing, gave him a lovely sense of control. He held Spy firmly in both hands, biting on his shoulder.

Spy liked to see Sniper's expression as he looked at him. Maybe it was a little egotistical, but he enjoy it. He sighed at the bite, maybe trying to cover up a gasp.

Even as he bit strongly at Spy, Sniper half nuzzled against the neck and cheek beside him, slowly beginning to pump Spy's cock.

Spy closed his eyes and shuddered. It was about time. "You going to keep me tied up like this?"

"No reason to untie you now, is there beauty?" Sniper slowly dragged his tongue from the bite on Spy's shoulder, up his neck, up his jaw to by his ear. He breathed into the shell as his hand slowly left Spy's cock, to quickly undo his own trousers. They were uncomfortably tight.

Spy was terribly speechless. "What're you doing?" He arched and craned his neck to see.

"Just getting comfortable." he murmured, gently nipping at Spy's ear. His hand returned to Spy's dick, to keep him satisfied. "Why? Don't want me to stop wanking you off?"

Spy was smug, how could one not be at a moment like that? Tied up and at the mercy of Sniper? "I'm good either way," he attempted to sound calm but the sentence was broken by little gasps.

"If you say so." Sniper's hand left Spy again, instead giving himself a few jerks, breathing heavily right into Spy's ear.

Spy continued to converse as if nothing were happening. He wanted to see how long he could go, "This is quite nice, do you think maybe you can help me out every time?"

"Help you out with what?" Sniper asked. He knew of course, but he still liked asking. His hand finally left both of them alone, reaching into one of his pocket to find the lube.

"Could I just call on you whenever I need to jerk off? Oh Sniper, dear, could you give me a hand?" His voice quavered and his neck craned to see what Sniper was up to.

"I'll give you more than a hand Spy." Sniper sat back onto his knees, still pinning down the lower half of Spy's body and reluctantly letting go of his bound wrists. He put the lube onto his hands and slicked himself up, one hand around himself and the other pressing against Spy's arse.

Spy tried to move his hands, straining the tie binding them. He pulled his legs up, feet flat on the bed. He was about to say somethingsmartass but all he could manage was, "Hnnng-- fais comme tu veux."

Sniper smirked and pushed two fingers into Spy, slowly scissoring him open. Done with slicking up his own cock, he gave Spy's the same treatment. Just because he could really. He really did love the way Spy flexed and squirmed.

Spy's knees up in the air, he found it easier to buck and rise up off the bed. Maybe it was due to his wrists being tied, but he felt like he could be ridiculous. Just let it all go, here with Sniper and alone. He could get into it and let himself be used. "More, more."

A third finger joined the other two, forming a triangle as Sniper stretched Spy. He loomed over him, watching Spy's reactions smugly. Well, he had the man moaning for more and he was still wearing his glasses and hat. That didn't exactly happen everyday. "Still want more love?"

One has to get creative when one's hands are tied. Spy hooked his leg around Sniper's body and attempted to pull him forward. "Don't ask stupid questions."

Sniper's fingers retreated suddenly. He lowered himself quickly and sharply thrusted into Spy, a little growl at the warmth now around his cock. Sniper's hands supported his weight as he loomed over Spy, still giving him a coy little smirk.

Spy's stomach flipped at Sniper's growl. He felt that lovely lovely burn, felt himself fill up. "What kept you so long?"

"Patience." Sniper half murmured, half hissed. The longer you wait, the better it all feels. Sex, headshots, anything. He thrust roughly into Spy, one hand tracing up Spy's arm to his wrists.

Spy's legs kept moving, curling around Sniper, trying to get some sort of leverage. "I'm. Ah. Not. Very. Patient. When it comes to you."

"I know." Sniper lowered his lips to Spy's neck, biting and kissing as his hand gripped Spy's wrists and held them down again. "You're beginning to affect my patience." A hand on Spy's hips as Sniper kept thrusting.

"I try very hard to effect your patience, mon cher." Spy wriggled around but found it most comfortable if he just let himself be moved by Sniper's hips.

Ah good. Sniper wasn't just going soft. He pressed himself against Spy, groaning and making slightly feral sounds against his neck. Bloody sexy tosser, effecting his patience by feeling and tasting so good!

Just Sniper rubbing over those nerves, pressing up against his cock like that-- it was enough for Spy to wonder about his own patience. He wanted to prolong the situation, "Every little sound you make stays with me for so long." Okay, talking might not actually /help/ at all.

"Does it?" Sniper slowly let go of Spy's wrists again. Let him try to escape. He pushed firmly against Spy, the fabric of his clothes preventing their skins from rubbing against each other.

Spy liked Sniper's hands there, but he fought the fabric as soon as he could. Twisting his wrists and bucking his hips, maybe to escape, maybe to match Sniper's rhythm. He moaned loudly, "I can't stop thinking about you."

"Gotten under your skin Spook?" Sniper nuzzled against Spy, biting at his shoulder.He licked at the bite, his thrusts still rough. He was getting very close, with Spy's movements and talk. "Good to know that it's not just you getting into me."

Spy began to speak again, "I--" but his words were cut off by a hiss. He yanked on the binds and gasped and gasped as he came. "--oui."

Sniper leaned close to Spy and kissed him roughly on the lips, the feral noise he made as he came muffled between them, still thrusting. He slowed once he'd had emptied his lot into Spy, until he had completely stopped and was just kissing him.

Spy relaxed under Sniper. Into a trance-like state, forgetting they had just roughly fucked, forgetting that they were in the middle of a desert base. Just kissing Sniper and only thinking about that very act. How soft his lips were, how easy it was for his to move against Sniper's.

Sniper settled over Spy, eyes blissfully closed as he kissed him with his arms coiling around him. One behind his back, the other behind his head and threading in his hair. It was so comfortable, to just be close to Spy, to be with Spy.

Spy turned to his side, gently pushing Sniper off. He curled into the other man's side. Only coming up for air and to say, "All that over a plant?"

"Imagine if it was over something else." Sniper pressed gentler kisses to Spy's cheek and jaw. Well, it hadn't quite been over a plant. But the plant had kick started it.

"Oh, merde. I will."

Sniper chuckled and nuzzled against Spy again. There was something on the tip of his tongue that wanted to be said. But he wasn't going to say it.

"I do not believe I am leaving here tonight. Or getting dressed." That's right, Sniper, you can get another crack at him in the middle of the night.

"Good. I like you here." Sniper gave Spy another kiss and sat up, beginning to take off his vest and shirt. It was stained now.

"Yes, there's not enough room in this bed. You should strip down to make room." His logic is flawless.

Sniper grinned but did as suggested and stripped himself down to nothing. Once all his clothing was removed, he lay back and put an arm around Spy, cuddling him close.

Spy had plenty to say and planned on saying it all, but he was overcome. Terribly sleepy and terribly warm, he just fell asleep before he could babble.

Sniper smiled sleepily at Spy and pulled him close. With Spy unconscious, he could easily admit that he loved him, but that'd be pointless. So Sniper just yawned and murmured "Sweet dreams beauty", before falling asleep himself.

~~~~~

Spy wasn't keeping track of how long it had been going on. He didn't have a calender. There was one in the kitchen and it had changed from one scantily clad woman to another since he'd begun sleeping with Sniper regularly. Regularly meaning that they'd been going at it like rabbits at the very least every day. One or twice a day had been skipped, but the following day, Spy ended up staying the night in Sniper's room.

Then one morning Spy woke up and decided that he didn't want it anymore. So many dumb reasons behind this decision, all the while a voice in the back of his brain had been screaming WHAT. WHY. The sex was good, the company Sniper offered wasn't bad, and there wasn't much else to do. At least that's what he was telling himself. Deeper down inside he was getting attached. Can't have that. Goodness no. Again, he hadn't been keeping track but more than a few days had passed since he had seen Sniper or let Sniper see him.

Sniper was looking for Spy. When this had started it had nearly always been Spy looking for Sniper and he had felt too uncertain of himself to go looking for Spy. But after screwing the man for so long, Sniper felt confident in going after him. It'd been a little while since he'd last seen him - Sniper had put it down to bad luck or a busy schedule.

Spy wasn't actually hiding, he was just in his room. He was making his room a home again. Anything to keep himself busy. Going through his belongings and getting a pile of letters ready to burn-- or alphabetizing his secret stash of records. God willing, he wouldn't have to start organizing his sock drawer.

After checking a few of their 'shared' locales, Sniper went to Spy's room. No point in missing the obvious. He knocked twice before opening the door. Even after this amount of time, he didn't just waltz in the way Spy did. "Hey." He said casually, shutting the door behind him.

Spy was rightly horrified. "How-- How dare you?"

Sniper raised an eyebrow. "How dare I do what?"

Spy's arms flopped about as he gestured towards the door, "You just stepped right in! Go back out and knock again!"

"Well you never knock, so no!" Sniper pointed out, approaching Spy.

Spy's eyes widened in fear and he took a few steps back. "What do you want?"

Okay, this response was new. And strange. Sniper frowned a little but smiled, thinking it was some game of Spy's. "Can't a bloke stop by for a chat?"

"Chat from over there." He seemed as if he didn't trust Sniper. Obviously he didn't trust himself.

Sniper folded his arms but took another step forward. "Too close for comfort?" He asked innocently, an amused look on his face.

Spy's expression was mostly hidden behind the mask, but his brows plunged down in anger. "I'd rather you keep your distance."

Sniper raised his hands up, palms outwards to show that he meant no harm. "Alright, alright." He didn't step back though. "What have you been doing lately anyway?"

Put on your game face, Spy. He gave himself a little mental shove. End it. "What difference does it make?"

Now, hold on. That was unnecessary. "Just curious. I haven't seen you around lately."

Spy's arms flapped about again, like a fussy bird. "Well you know what they say about curiosity! Out."

"No." Sniper said flatly. Screw you and your hilarious arm movements. "Why do you want me to leave?"

Oh, he was going to have to drag out lies. "I am getting sick of you." One of the flappy arms reached out and gave Sniper a solid shove. "Out."

Sniper caught that arm. Oh, so that's how this is going. He pulled sharply to tug Spy close to him, glaring evenly at the masked man. "No. Carry on. What of me is sickening to you?"

Spy had to quickly contort his face into a smile. He had to hide that pained look. His smile was just bared teeth, a threatened dog. "It might be easier to name the things that don't sicken me."

"Alright." Sniper's glare eased into a frown. The atmosphere just seemed awkward, like there were little things that were slightly askew. But the only askew thing was Spy.

"Is that what you want to hear?" Spy tilted his head. It almost physically hurt him, how much he wanted to twist Sniper's brain around. He wanted to apologize. Oh that was just a little game of mine! How badly he wanted to twist Sniper's arms behind his back. He wanted to just take him.

"Anything would be nice right about now." Spy's accent was easy on the ears and...alright, he had been on Sniper's mind since he had upped and vanished for a few days. It was just out of the pattern. Sniper was still holding the arm he had used to pull Spy in, not gripping it so much but holding it firmly enough.

Spy let out a sigh. "I cannot. You are just a warm body." He could easily name so much about Sniper that attracts him but that might do more harm that good. "--A warm body with such a pleasing voice and skilled hands but nothing more." Ugh, he let that much slip out.

Sniper's feelings were affected by that and it showed slightly on his face. Confusion, with a trace of hurt. Yes, their relationship was very physical, but there was more to it than that...at least, Sniper thought there had been. "If I'm just a warm body with a nice voice and good hands, then why'd you pick me out?"

One might think Spy had been practicing his speech all night, his answer was so quick. "You are lonely, it was easy." Like hell it was easy.

"Yeah, I was." Sniper twisted himself round forcefully, pinning Spy to the nearest wall and glaring at him again. "Course, I fell into your arms the moment you decided to grace me with your presence." (Not that he particularly remembered Spy poking about his perch and questioning him on his sleeping habits).

Spy straightened his spine, wiggling under Sniper's grip. "That is enough, don't you think?"
Oh, don't squirm like that. Sniper made sure he was invading Spy's personal space, even leaning forward when he spoke. "No, I don't think this is enough."

Spy turned his head away, "Do not do this, just leave."

"You haven't convinced me yet." Just annoyed and confused him greatly. The 'lonely = easy' excuse was so clearly wrong but Spy was still telling him to go. Sniper pressed his body against Spy's; not in a sexual way but in a close way.

"Why would I lie about that?" Look at that face, Sniper, would that face lie to you? Or anyone for that matter?

"Spy, you're forgetting that I was there." Sniper pointed out, looking Spy dead in the eye. It's one thing to lie about an event which no-one can disprove but when you lie to a major character in your story, then you're got a problem.

Another sigh, theatrical and exaggerated, "I did not think it would so hard to get rid of you."
"I was hard to catch. Only right it should be hard to make me go."

Spy tried to pull his arm away, "I am telling you to go away, why would you want to push that?"
"Because," Sniper let go of Spy and stepped back. "I'm lonely." he stated with a slight bite to his voice, before turning to leave.

Sniper turned, one hand on the door knob.

"Can't we say goodbye?"

Sniper considered it. Goodbye seemed...final. But did he mean goodbye in that sense? Probably. He strode back to Spy and kissed him, firm but quick. "No." Then he turned and left before Spy could try and say goodbye.

Spy nearly folded in half where he stood, the way his shoulders slumped. He skulked over to the door and made sure it was locked this time. He pulled his mask off and decided that going to sleep in the middle of the day would be better than anything else had planned.


Sniper hadn't gone back to see Spy. He had been hoping Spy would just go back to normal - he had been indecisive before when it came to the two of them but he usually ended up staying with Sniper anyway. And thinking on it, he wasn't sure if Spy had been honest for once, saying that it was all just because Sniper was lonely. There was evidence for both cases if he thought back on their...well, relationship.

To try and stop thinking about Spy (the bloody Spook), Sniper had set up some targets and was practicing using his Huntsman around the back of the base, focusing on his distance shooting.

Spy was not in the mood for that Scout's antics. He was never in the mood for that child, but lately he'd been Really Not Up For it. Scout had snatched Spy's book from his hands and took off running. And then Spy was stupid enough to go chasing after him for it.

Hey, it's boring out here! Scout ran gleefully outside, just glad to have something to do, even if it was just pissing off Spy. Then he saw Sniper with his bow and arrow. Sniper sometimes let Scout throw things for him to shoot. Scout had something to throw. "Hey Snipes! Think fast!!" He yelled as loudly as he could, throwing the ill-fortuned book like a frisbee.

Sniper was in his mindset when he heard the shout. He saw something twirling above him and reacted, drawing an arrow quickly and firing it at the book, not even realizing what it was or where Scout may have gotten it.

Spy's run slowed more and more until he stopped dead in his tracks. Merde. No. Not only was his book ruined, but so was his 3-day-streak of not laying eyes on Sniper. He couldn't even let any of his anger for Scout surface. He just stood there with a dead look in his eyes.

Scout cheered and didn't realize just what he'd done. "YEAH! That was freakin' awesome - Now what froggy?" he turned, to mock Spy. And now Sniper snapped out of his trance and it all clicked together. Piss. Thankfully he had both his shades and hat on to effectively hide half his features.

Spy shrugged, "You win? Is that what you want to hear, lapin?"

"Yeah! I win at everything!" The Scout gloated. Until Sniper walked up to him and smacked him round the back of the head. "What the fuck? What was that for??"

"For being a little prat. Now sod off. And next time bring your own crap to throw about." Sniper said moodily, before turning back to his previous shooting. Scout muttered a few choice phrases before making gestures at both Sniper and Spy and running off.

Spy squinted. "Where did my book land?"

Sniper glanced around a little and saw it, looking worse for wear after being hit with an arrow. "There." He pointed it out, picking up it up with the arrow that had struck it.

Spy let out a breath and tried to not look too torn up about it. "Well, the hole in the middle adds character."

Sniper resisted sighing. "Sorry." Keep it short, get back to shooting and not thinking about him, even when he's right there.

Spy reached out and took the book from Sniper. "Not your fault, old bean."

Sniper hummed slightly, then took a few steps away from Spy and turned back, drawing another arrow and pulling the bow taunt. Get back into the mind set, focusing his vision on the flight path of the arrow. And his back.

"Did you hear? I called you old bean!" That's just ridiculous, isn't it?

"I heard." Sniper said abstractly. His right hand opened, releasing the arrow. It missed.

"Shall I go, then?" Do I not entertain you? He put the choice in Sniper's hands. His very capable hands. It would be better that way. Up to him, he'd stay and watch. Then again, if Sniper told him to beg to be taken back, he'd probably do that as well.

Sniper didn't say anything for a moment, drawing a new arrow out. "You can stay." He had to learn to aim with distractions and Spy was the biggest distraction he had known in his entire life.

Spy flipped through his book. He was well aware that he was standing behind Sniper and making noise. "I do not know, maybe I will go."

Yes, that was distracting. And did he had to be right behind him? Sniper shifted so he wouldn't hit Spy as he drew back the arrow to fire, taking aim. "It's your choice." You wanted Sniper to leave, so he left.

"I do not make very good choices, birdy." He flipped through the book a few more times. Mostly just to be annoying.

"I noticed." Sniper said dryly, mutely noting the use of the nickname. He let go of the arrow, hitting the target slightly low. "You should probably stay. Just in case Scout decides to grab your book again."

Spy laughed, "You are going to protect me?"

"No, you can protect your book." (Although, Sniper would protect Spy)

Spy apparently ignored that answer. "It is a nice thought, isn't it?" He put the back of his hand on his mask-covered forehead. "Oh Sniper, protect me! Pretend for a moment that we do not fight tiny wars every day."

Sniper had been about to take out another arrow but just had to turn and face Spy when he said that, with a raised eyebrow and lowered eyelids. But he smirked at the last line. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"What, to pretend we have normal lives and that I am a normal person and can have normal things?" He knew that's not what Sniper meant but he was going to make him feel bad anyway.

"You say that as if you can't have normal things." Sniper said observantly, idly toying with the arrow he held.

"I cannot." Spy held his book out to prove a point.

"Because the Scout is an idiot?" Sniper said skeptically, taking hold of the portion of the book offered towards him.

Spy yanked the book back and tucked it under his arm. "Because we are here, that is why."

Sniper looked at Spy's face, trying to read his expression. "You think things would be different out of here?"

Spy didn't allow that, looking anywhere but Sniper's face. "Maybe."

Sniper edged forward a little, gaze still fixed on Spy's features. "And why's that?"

Spy frowned and took a step back. Stop that. "Because I would not be Spy and you would not be Sniper."

"Who else would we be?" Sniper asked, with a little half shrug. "Spy and Sniper are just jobs, darl. It's not like we're defined by that." They'd still look the same, act the same. They just would be doing something different from 9 - 5 for money.

"I think I am a bit more defined by my job than you are yours, then."

"Not really. Unless being a Spy affects how you play pool." Define 'how you play pool' to mean any number of things you want.

Spy whacked Sniper with the book. "This is getting too deep and too boring for me. Good day, sir."

Sniper caught Spy's shoulder without thinking. He carefully looked at Spy for a few moments. "Feel free to stay. We just won't talk." Then he let go and returned to his target practice.

Spy mumbled, "I said good day." But he tucked the book back and stood behind Sniper, watching.


-------------------



Sniper was sat up in his perch, looking over the battlegrounds. It'd been over a week since he'd effectively ruined Spy's book and things...hadn't changed. Spy was still avoiding him completely and ignoring him when they did cross paths, aside from the stiff politeness the Spook used for everyone. Sniper hated that. He sighed and looked up to his old companions, the falcons. The male was preening himself as the female was settled, feather fluffed up.

Sniper thought Spy was avoiding him. But he just wasn't getting caught. He'd been watching Sniper for short periods of time since he broke it off with him. He was well aware of how pathetic that was, thank you very much. Spy was able to slip into Sniper's room without much noise and he was cloaked of course.

"I'm an idiot." Sniper said bluntly, taking off his shades and rubbing his eyes. The male flew off, leaving Sniper with the female, who (as always) watched him when he spoke. Sniper looked at his glasses as he fiddled with them. He was still used to talking aloud to the birds about how he felt.

Spy really didn't want to hurt Sniper, but would it hurt him too much to listen to his deep secret thoughts? Hell no. But it would amuse and flatter Spy, of course.

"Honestly, I've known the bloke for...what. Three, four months? And in that time I've gone from knowing him, to being his friend, to wanting to screw him, to /actually/ screwing him, and now he's just sodded off!" Sniper listed, pausing as he thought. "Urgh. I should've seen it coming."

Spy leaned himself into the corner, comfortable to just listen. Wait, Seen That Coming? What!

"He's always been the on/off type. Sometimes he's interested and other times he'd act as if nothing was going on." Sniper leaned back, turning his head to gaze out the window.

Well, like any good Spy, Spy thought.

Sniper remained quiet for a few moments. The falcon chirped, prompting him to speak. "I don't know." Answering whatever he thought the bird had asked him. "Spooky never reveals what he thinks."

Spy's lip twitched at the nickname. His normal react to almost smiling would be to cough and cover it up-- he forgot he was hiding and coughed. Oops. Well, the jig is up.

Sniper looked up sharply. He shifted from his sitting position by the window ledge nd quickly walked towards where he thought he heard something. "Spy?"

Spy stayed cloaked (because it was funny), "What?"

"What are you doing?" Sniper was slightly annoyed. Well, just annoyed. The bastard was cloaked and had been listening to him talk tot he birds. Again.

Spy answered as honestly as he could for once, "Watching."

The honesty threw Sniper off. "Why?" He asked, still trying to locate Spy.

Spy slowly moved to dodge. "Why not?"

"I thought you didn't want to see me again." Sniper was slowly advancing upon where he thought Spy was, looking around widely for any clue. A shimmer of a lithe frame.

"Did I say that?" He can't really recall if those were the words he used.

"You wanted to say goodbye." Which was more than enough in the context.

"Oh. Yes. That is why I am here." Spy uncloaked, only an arm's length away from where Sniper was looking.

Sniper looked at him carefully, trying to hide his feelings. He didn't advance anymore. "TO say goodbye?"

"Yes." Spy actually looked a little nervous. He cleared his throat-- again looked calm and casual. "Goodbye. Leave me alone, stay away, et cetera."

Sniper glared at him. "I told you that you couldn't say that to me."

Spy's expression softened. It was a bit condescending. "And why is that?"

"Because I don't want to hear it." Sniper turned away from him, walking back to the window.

Spy followed Sniper back to the window, "And why is that?"

"Because. I. Don't." That's all the reason he needed. Sniper leaned on the window frame, not looking back at Spy.

"You owe be a favour, do you not?" Spy hissed at the bird.

"What?" Sniper glanced behind him when he heard Spy hiss something.

"Do you owe me a favour still? Tell me the truth, pretend I am your little bird here and tell me everything." His tone was a bit sarcastic, but he wanted what he said.

Sniper turned to fully face him, clearly not pleased. But he found that he couldn't add up all the favours in this atmosphere, so he seemed to think: fuck the maths, just go with it. "Fine." he said, with a bite to his voice. "I think I'm a complete prat for letting you come up here. You've messed up my head and treated me like a goddamn plaything from the start, and I was stupid to think otherwise!" Happy now?

Spy didn't like how that felt. But at least it would make it easier to distance himself from Sniper. Sniper thought that was what was going on? Perfect. "I have messed up your head? Mon dieu."

Sniper clenched his fists. "Yes, you bloody have!" He suddenly lunged forward, grabbing onto Spy. Whether to hit him, drag him from the room or do something else, it didn't matter.

Spy let out a cry but did not struggle. "Are you going to hit me now?" That would be perfect, wouldn't it?

"That's what you want." Sniper growled. He pushed Spy away from him, then gave him another push. "Get out."

Spy stumbled but did not fall. He was quick to straighten out his suit. "All right. Goodbye."

Sniper didn't say anything. He just returned to his seat from before Spy uncloaked, sitting on the window ledge and gazing out with a blank look on his face.

Spy showed himself out. He considered being more careful-- or perhaps to stop hanging around Sniper, for fuck's sake.



(This is where they stopped I do believe. I do have a major part of the board where they comment on how stuck they were in plot etc etc. Perhaps we can persuade them to keep going?)

145 .

>>144

sorry about that! That was all of the fic I had/have been able to read and I didn't know whether it was the end or not.

146 .

>>138

oh I remember that fic, but no that's not the one I'm looking for.
(I'd still love a link or repost of it anyways, thank you for reminding me!)

I can't for the life of me remember what the exact title is, but I think "Love" is part of the title...
It's the one with the Halloween smut, Scout's family visiting for a day, and mistaking Spies for each other.

Actually, if I'm not mistaken, "Just to Make Myself Attracted to You" is tied into the story I'm looking for.

147 .

144 Thank you. It's strange the way it's posted, too. Big gaps of events are missing, and it seems out of order. Like Spy calling Sniper 'Birdy' in one part, then, in the next part, Sniper only just taking note of that nickname, despite the fact he's been called it before, etc.
I dunno. It's confusing. Well-written, obv. but I'm just wondering if this is all of the fic, or if something is missing here.

146 Sure. I'll go ahead and post Ties.

148 .

Also, I fail at formatting. Don't know who this is by, but I think I found it on y-gal. Not sure. If anyone knows the author, by all means post it.

------------------

It was the first time Engineer had decided to play his guitar in front of the team. They were outside for the night, gathered around an open flame in order to enjoy the night. The day had been especially hot; in fact, so much that Spy and Soldier had both taken off their headgear. Engineer himself often removed his helmet and goggles outside of battle, but was genuinely surprised to see his fellow teammates to do so as well.

Most of the team had stayed quiet for a moment to listen to him play. Eventually, they broke into their own groups, the Texan left alone to his own devices. He didn't mind. He had simply thought it would be nice to bring a little music into their environment.

When Engineer's fingers became weary, he scanned the area, proud of his handiwork. It was always a good thing when the team spent time together; it meant that there would be less bickering on the battlefield. He performed a head count, only to realize that they were one short.

Scout was no where to be seen. He could have sworn he had seen him come outside with Pyro.

Engineer picked up his guitar and headed into the base. Scout had been complaining about the heat the most out of anyone on the team, so why was he hiding inside?

After dropping off his instrument in his room, Engineer stood outside Scout's door and knocked. There was a muffled response from the other side, but he was unable to understand it. Hoping that Scout would not mind the rude intrusion, he gently pushed the door open. The light from the hallway pooled into the dark room, illuminating the young man curled up on his bed.

"Go 'way," Scout muttered into his knees, hiding his face behind his thighs. Engineer opened the door wider, the light allowing him to see the runner more clearly. Streaks of tears stained the visible parts of his face.

Immediately Engineer was at his side. "What's wrong, Scout?"

Scout drew his knees even closer to his chest. "Nothing. Go 'way."

"Now don't you tell me there ain't nothing wrong, boy." Engineer placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of the tangled knot he was in. Scout gave little resistance. Soon the light coming in from the hall was being reflected from his eyes, a few stray tears glinting as they fell. The Texan wiped them away with his free hand, retaining his grasp on the young man as he grew limp.

"What's wrong?" Engineer repeated.

Scout sniffled and hiccuped. His red eyes glanced around as he refused Engineer an answer. On the other hand, Engineer knew this game and had enough patience to wait it out.

"One of my brothers played guitar," Scout finally confessed, wiping his eyes fitfully. His voice was hoarse and low. "There. Now will you get the fuck out?"

Engineer smiled and took a seat next to the runner on his bed. "Really? Was he good?"

Scout took a shaky breath. "Yeah. You're almost as good as he is, though it's kinda hard to tell 'cause he plays an electric guitar. You play stupid fuckin' acoustic."

Of course Scout and his family would appreciate the louder volume of an electric guitar. Engineer wrapped an arm around Scout's shoulder, rubbing it with his thumb. "You have a favorite song? Maybe I could play it for you."

Scout considered the question quietly. "Don't. You probably couldn't play it anyway."

Engineer nodded. Touching that would no doubt stir even more memories and unwanted emotions.

"I could still play something, if you'd like." His room was across the hall, so he wouldn't be leaving him alone for a long time.

The runner hummed thoughtfully. He removed his head from the crook of Engineer's shoulder and muttered, "Yeah. Okay."

The Texan released him with care before hurrying out of the room. When he returned, his hands were full with his guitar. He remembered to flip the light switch on the way in, sitting down on the foot of the bed. Scout brought his knees to his chest again, resting his chin on them to stare at Engineer with weary eyes.

Engineer played a song that was often played on the radio before he joined the BLU corporation. That British band, the Beatles, they were pretty popular before he left. Maybe Scout would recognize the song. He decided not to sing in case he did.

"Heh," Scout chuckled dryly, "You're such a fag. ...I get high with a little help from my friends. Funny shit."

Engineer returned the laugh and continued to play, singing quietly with Scout. He went through all the Beatles songs he knew until the runner fell asleep, his foot touching his knee and an arm falling off the side of the bed.

As he stood by the door, Engineer glanced at Scout one more time before turning off the lights. The poor boy was homesick. When he closed the door, he wondered whether or not having family ties was a bad or a good thing.

The next day, Engineer had been seeing a lot of Scout by his dispensers. It worried him; Scout was normally able to grab medikits before anyone else or simply dodge the attacks all in themselves. If they hadn't had their little meeting last night, the Texan would have dismissed it as a bad day, but for all he knew, Scout could be distracted with thoughts of his family back home.

Scout panted heavily as he crouched by the dispenser, the blue light calming his jumpiness. Engineer paused in his work. It was probably not a good time to talk about it, but he wanted to confirm his fear.

"Scout?" Upon hearing his profession, the young man looked up from his position behind the dispenser. "Are you feelin' alright today? You're gettin' a little banged up, boy."

By now, Scout would have replied with a sound "fuck you" and sped off, but instead he stared at Engineer's goggles and said nothing. He bit his lip before averting his gaze.

"Just thinkin' about home," he replied, restless hands tapping the metal of the device healing him.

Another quiet moment passed as the machine did its work. When Scout stepped away, he offered Engineer a smirk and said, "But what the fuck do you know about getting banged up? All you do is sit around by your stupid fuckin' sentries while we do all the hard work."

Engineer allowed himself a relieved smile as the runner headed back toward the battlements.

------------

During ceasefire, Engineer was in his room playing his guitar instead of reviewing his notes on the teleportation device. He left the door open on purpose, hoping that maybe Scout would hear him playing and come in to talk. It wasn't safe for him to be running into battle with a clouded mind.

Half an hour passed and Engineer was considering building an electric guitar when Scout finally poked his head in through the doorway.

"Yo Hardhat," he greeted loudly. When the Texan looked up, the rest of his body followed his head into the room, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He was trying to look nonchalant, but with the way he peered at Engineer's guitar, he looked more suspicious than anything.

"Howdy, Scout," he said in return, giving him a polite nod. His strumming hand slowed down as he continued, "You feelin' better?"

Scout squinted at his goggles. "A little, yeah. Bashin' a few skulls in's good for the nerves, ya know?"

"As long as you ain't the one getting his head bashed in."

"I get more goddamn skulls bashed in by my own hands than your fuckin' little sentries any day!"

Engineer stilled his hands and gave Scout a calm stare. "Did I ever disagree with you?"

The runner opened and closed his mouth several times before grumbling a defeated, "No."

With a smile, Engineer resumed playing. "Didn't think so."

Scout hovered around for a while, his eyes darting around the room. He spotted a cluttered desk and sauntered over it, poking around the scattered papers.

"Hey, is this how you work all the dispensers and stuff?" he asked, holding a paper to the light. He narrowed his eyes, turning the sheet in his hands.

After slipping his goggles onto his forehead, Engineer glanced over to examine the paper Scout was holding. "Nope, that's for the teleporter." Of course Scout would only be interested in the dispenser.

"Looks like shit, man," Scout stated, discarding the sheet on the desk carelessly, "Your handwriting sucks and it's all messy."

"Right. So tell me, Scout, have you ever seen a teleporter mess up?"

"Only when it's spittin' out sparks."

"And whose fault is that?"

"I dunno, how the fuck would I know? Prolly those goddamn Spooks, though. With their weird sappy things, right?"

"That's right, Scout."

Scout did a full tour of his room, picking up several of his possessions and insulting them. No matter what he said, Engineer responded calmly and did not mess up a chord once.

Eventually Scout plopped down in front of Engineer on the floor, cupping his head in his hands.

"You're no fun, you know that?"

"Just because I don't fight back like your brothers do don't mean I ain't fun."

Engineer looked over the strings on his guitar to gauge Scout's expression. His mouth was agape once again, torn between being angry and being amazed. The runner managed to settle on frustrated, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I ain't expectin' you t'be like my brothers or anythin' like that," he mumbled, looking at the ground. A smirk was quick to light up his countenance in a sudden change of heart as he said, "You're too short t'be any a' those guys."

Engineer rolled his eyes, but not without a smile. "Just a friend, then?"

It took Scout a while of staring before he returned Engineer's smile with a wide grin. "Yeah. A friend."

Scout stood up to punch Engineer on the shoulder before leaving his room. Engineer followed behind him to close the door with a sigh. He hadn't accomplished what he originally intended to do, but he figured that it was enough progress for one day with the runner.

After resting his guitar against the wall, Engineer retrieved his reading glasses and headed to his desk. He still had to revise his notes on the teleporter and now he had a new project floating in his mind to deal with. It looked like a long night.


Engineer could sight Medic striding down the hallway with one object in mind, so he bid Heavy farewell with a grateful smile.

"Is no problem," the large man said, returning the smile and patting him on the head. When he turned around to see the doctor hurrying towards him, his face lit up and he left to meet him halfway.

Heavy looked as if he was going to lift Medic up when he arrived at his side with the way his huge hands clasped Medic's arms. The German clicked his tongue in annoyance, the corners of his lips twitching as Heavy rushed multiple apologies, releasing him. The pair walked down the hall at a leisurely pace, simply enjoying the other's presence.

Must be nice having such an intimate relationship like that, Engineer thought. Heavy and Medic were the closest two on the team, especially because they were the only pair that did not threaten each other's existence every other minute.

With a sigh, Engineer hefted the metal Heavy had retrieved for him into his room. The Russian had inquired as to why he needed the scraps outside of battle. Luckily for Engineer, he had lugged them in despite not receiving an answer.

Engineer wasn't entirely sure himself why he needed the metal. He didn't necessarily need it, per se, but he knew he wanted to use it for a project that didn't involve restoring or damaging or moving the particles of a human being. It was a refreshing change of pace, at the very least.

The thing he was the most uncertain about was whether or not he wanted to make a pitching machine or an electric guitar.

---------------


While poring over the empty blueprints in his workshop, Engineer was distracted by the loud slam of his door opening. He looked up to see Scout walking in with a baseball in hand, the other shoved into his pocket.

"Yo, you busy, Hardhat?" Scout asked, leaning over the Texan's shoulder.

Engineer stopped his fitful tapping of his pencil and set it on the edge of his paper. "Not exactly." It was the truth, he had to admit.

"Right then, you're comin' out with me. Been a while since I practiced batting."

"You mean with a real ball?" Heads and Demo's empty bottles of alcohol apparently did not count.

"Of course, you numbnut! Do you not see this ball right in front of your fuckin' eyes?" The runner waved the ball in question in front of Engineer's eyes. "And take off those goddamn glasses, I don't wanna get glass in your eyes. Then what'll happen to the dispensers?"

"Always so considerate," Engineer replied lightly, slipping off his reading glasses and placing them on his work table. A low sigh escaped his lips as he followed behind Scout, listening to the young man babble about someone named "Tony C" and the "stupid fuckin' Cardinals".

"You know, my brothers taught me how to play ball," Scout said, a genuinely happy grin on his face, "We never had enough players by ourselves to play a real game, but we made a pretty fuckin' good team. Played second base, mostly, 'cause I'm the fastest."

Scout's smile dimmed as his eyes turned wistful. "I was the only one with a glove, just 'cause I was the youngest. Fuckin' unfair, I know, but my brothers..." He trailed off, looking at the space just above Engineer's shoulder. "But yeah. You don't wanna hear that shit, do you?"

Engineer opened his mouth to state that yes, yes he would, but Scout turned his back on him to hurry ahead.

"Come on, Engie, we ain't got all day!"

The Texan smiled faintly while he shook his head, walking behind him at a much slower pace.

During the course of the afternoon, despite the insults and dust and misplaced hits, Engineer was fully satisfied to know that he was entirely certain of what to build.

After all, what good was a pitching machine when you could get the job done yourself?

-------------------------

"Goddamn, you wouldn't know the bullshit that Sniper spews when he's drunk," Scout said, quiet chuckles interrupting his speech, "Stupid shit about Spy and some other gay shit, too."

Engineer didn't look up from his sketches when he replied. "And that's why you shouldn't drink, Scout."

"But it looks fun!" The runner protested. "Even though he was totally shit faced, he was always smiling. I mean, have you fuckin' seen Demo? Booze is glued to his hands all the time!"

"Well, Demo is a... an exception," Engineer said slowly. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Scout, who was fiddling with his headset. "Don't tell me you're thinking about drinking." Was he even old enough?

"Why the fuck do you care whether or not I drink, huh?"

"Because I'm your friend and I'm concerned about your health."

Engineer turned around to face Scout fully. Scout was standing, his face scrunched up in an indignant look. It didn't quite match his eyes, which looked torn between being happy and angry.

"You ain't my fucking ma!" the runner exclaimed. His voice came out half-hearted despite his angry words.

Engineer sighed, placing his elbow on his table. He put his chin in his hand and regarded Scout coolly. "Fine, but even then I doubt that Demo would let go of his precious alcohol."

"Then I'll just get some from Sniper! Or steal it when he's totally smashed! It's not like he keeps a fuckin' count on those things!"

Engineer's stomach dropped when he realized he had just posed a challenge for Scout. When the young man was challenged, he didn't give up until he was victorious, even if it was merely on his own terms.

The Texan rubbed his eyes roughly. "Just-- don't make this a regular thing, alright?"

"Since when were you the boss of me?"

Scout flashed him a smug smirk before dashing out of the room.

Engineer checked his watch. It was just barely the proper time to be doing such a thing as drinking. Slipping off his reading glasses, Engineer pressed the heels of his palms into his eyelids. He would need to steel himself for a long night.


Engineer was considering how he would ask Pyro to let him use his flamethrower when Scout staggered in, one hand occupied with a half-empty bottle of booze. When he squinted, Engineer could see that it was one of Demoman's brand name bottles. He groaned; the Scot had some of the strongest stuff around.

"Hey Engie," Scout drawled, making his way over to where he was sitting, "What's up, man? You feelin' good? 'Cause fuck am I feelin' amazing."

The Texan turned around on his seat to reach the runner, but ended up with a lap full of the young man. He blinked in surprise, reduced to staring as Scout leaned in close, alcohol evident on his breath.

"You know why I respect you, man?" he asked, his eyes becoming unfocused for a moment, "'Cause you're smart. And you make those fuckin' sentries, and whoever makes those must be badass."

While Scout was busy draping himself all over Engineer, the Texan managed to grab onto his wrist and remove the bottle that was threatening to tip over and unleash its contents onto his table. With that out of the way, Scout wrapped both arms around his neck and nuzzled his face into his chest.

"Hmm, you're warm," he muttered, voice low and by Engineer's ear, "You always look warm, though, with your stupid fuckin' overalls and that goddamn smile. I guess it ain't surprisin'..."

Engineer could feel blood rush to his face due to their proximity. Of all the things to come out of his goddanged mouth...

"So much nicer t'me than anyone else... Why is that, Engie? Why're you so warm all th'time?"

"Because," he choked out, reaching out to grip the table. He used his other hand to make sure Scout wouldn't fall off once he realized that struggling against his tight hold was useless. "You're a nice kid."

Scout laughed loudly, shaking his head. "Bullshit. Seriously, what th'fuck? Everyone else hates me, f'sure. How come I don't annoy you?"

Engineer shrugged. If he were to explain how he saw the sad, homesick boy only begging for the attention he was so used to receiving at home inside of Scout, he was sure that the runner would punch him with the intent of actually harming him.

"Because I have patience." How else had he earned the education that brought him here?

"Patience," Scout repeated slowly, as if tasting the word for the first time. He peeled himself off Engineer's chest to look him squarely in the eye. "Is that all?"

As Engineer stared back, he recognized the searching gaze that Scout was directing at him and shook his head. "Well, no, but..." No, he wasn't just putting up with the young man anymore. He wouldn't work so hard for him if he didn't. "I like you. That's why."

Scout grinned. "You like me? That it?"

Engineer nodded.

Scout hugged him tightly, pressing their chests as close as physically possible, muttering, "He likes me" again and again. At a loss, Engineer found himself rubbing Scout's back all while nodding his agreement to the runner's mumblings.

When the room was quiet, it was only because Scout had fallen asleep.

---------------------

Nursing a cup of coffee in one hand, Engineer walked over to his occupied bed and placed a bottle of aspirin on his night stand. Next was a glass of water to down the pills.

Carrying Scout into his room was no difficult feat. Absorbing his words was the hard part.

There was a part in Scout that was looking for something more than he had originally thought. When he played for him in his room, Engineer assumed he was looking for someone to compensate for the absence of his brothers, for the absence of affection in the base. Lonely himself, Engineer found no problem taking that place.

From the start, Scout stated that Engineer was nothing like his brothers. Of course he would never be an exact replacement for them, but the runner stuck with him anyway. They played ball and Engineer played his guitar for him and they enjoyed the other's company.

Since when had his feelings for Scout become so important to the young man?

Engineer's thoughts were interrupted when Scout woke up groaning. He rubbed at his eyes, refusing to open them.

"Goddamn fuckin' shit my fuckin' head hurts," Scout moaned, turning his head on the pillow. "Turn off the goddamn lights. Shit, my head is poundin'."

Sunlight was filtering through the thin curtains by the window, pouring directly onto Scout's face. There was nothing Engineer could do about that. Instead he reached out to gently prop the runner onto his back. He shook out two pills into his hand and pressed them into one of Scout's, the other becoming occupied with the glass of water.

"The fuck is this?" he asked quietly. It probably hurt too much to talk at his normal volume.

"Pain meds," Engineer assured him, patting his shoulder. He frowned when Scout leaned into his touch, his hand lingering so that he wouldn't fall over; Scout still refused to open his eyes.

Scout's brow furrowed. "You didn't get these from Medic, did you?"

"They're safe, trust me." Unless Medic mixed up labels for fun, which he could not imagine the control freak doing, then he was entirely certain that the bottle's contents were indeed aspirin.

Without any further protests, Scout popped the pills into his mouth and gulped down the whole glass of water. When he finished, he held the glass out, waiting for Engineer to put it back down.

"Is this what they call a hangover?" Scout asked, his face contorting in discomfort.

"Yes." Engineer's frown grew at the sight of Scout's expression and he hunted around for something to block out the sun. He remembered the runner's hat in hiding in his overall pocket and fished it out, placing it on his head.

Upon contact, Scout's hands flew up, catching Engineer's before they left. His fingertips ghosted over the backs of Engineer's bare hands before landing on his hat, allowing him to adjust it.

When Scout cracked his eyes open, he smiled wryly. "Fuck it, I guess that's what I get in return for getting wasted, huh?"

Engineer twisted his hands in his lap as he nodded. He averted his gaze for a moment before asking, "Do you remember anything about last night?"

The runner tapped his bottom lip with his finger. "Uh, not really. I know I went to your workshop, but that's real blurry. Why, did somethin' bad happen?"

Biting back a sigh, Engineer rubbed his eyes. "No."

Scout frowned and touched the brim of his hat lightly. "Y'know, you're not so great at lying, Engie."

When Engineer didn't reply, Scout bit the tip of his thumb. "But, uh, I guess I'll ask some other time."

The Texan nodded again, grabbing his abandoned coffee from his nightstand and downing it all in one go. When his cup was empty, he quietly excused himself so he could put it away and get a real breakfast.

Now he had to figure out how to ask Pyro for his flamethrower and how to approach this subject without getting his head blown off.


When Engineer saw Scout again, he was in the kitchen talking to Sniper, who looked very uncomfortable and annoyed.

"I mean, how can you enjoy being fucked up the ass? Don't that hurt?" Scout asked, sneering at him from his position across the table.

Sniper took a drink of his coffee, refusing to put down his book on archery. "Well, kid, since you seem so goddamn interested, I'll share a little somethin' with ya. Y'see, there's this gland up yer ass called the "prostate" and when you touch it, magical things happen."

Scout's eyebrows drew together in disbelief and frustration. "Bastard, don't treat me like I'm some sort of little kid, 'cause I ain't!" He slammed his hands on the table to emphasize his point, but Sniper simply rolled his eyes at him. "So y'mean that it actually feels good?"

"No shit." Sniper stood up and closed his book. "Look, if you're so curious, why don'tcha try it yerself? Just don't ferget the lube, 'cause that's what stops it from really hurtin' too bad."

He headed to the sink to rinse out his coffee mug before exiting the kitchen.

Scout slumped in his seat, dropping his chin into his hand. He tapped the table with his fingers as he stared into space, apparently taking what Sniper said into consideration.

"Howdy, Scout," Engineer finally greeted, emerging from the doorway. The runner jumped, startled.

"Engie!" A flush crawled onto Scout's face once he saw the Texan standing in the kitchen. "Wh-What's up?"

Engineer swallowed a smile and headed towards the refrigerator. "Nothin'. Just thinkin' I'd get a little snack."

He gathered the ingredients for a sandwich, aware of the holes Scout was burning into his back with his eyes.

"Engie," Scout began hesitantly, "What do you think of... Sniper and Spy being, y'know, fags?"

"What do I think of their relationship?" Engineer said, allowing that smile now that his back was turned. "I think it's a little odd how they can be so intimate yet so cold at the same time, but to each his own, I suppose."

"So you don't think it's weird that they're both guys?"

"Not at all." Engineer took his sandwich to the table and sat beside Scout. He nudged the plate over in a wordless offer of the other half. "In fact, I think it's quite practical. It relieves them of their sexual frustrations naturally and without creating any problems, if you know what I mean."

"Oh." Scout took the half and shoved a huge bite into his mouth. It took him a while to figure out that talking and chewing that much food was not a simple task. Once he swallowed, he said, "You mean, like, pregnancy, right?"

"Yep."

"Well, don't you think it's gross? It's your dick up another guy's ass! His fuckin' ass!"

"I understand what you mean, Scout, but you should know that heterosexual couples have anal sex, too."

An incredulous expression washed over Scout's face. He quickly covered it up by wolfing down the rest of his food.

"Does that mean that girls have that "prostate gland" thing too?"

Engineer deposited the plate into the sink, a chuckle escaping his throat. "No, Scout. With these things it's all a matter of preference."

"Oh."

"Yeah, there are some things your parents probably left out in their speech about the birds and the bees."

All cleaned up, Engineer was about to leave the kitchen when Scout exclaimed, "Wait! Engie!"

The Texan stood in the doorway, one hand on the wall as he waited for Scout to catch up to him. Scout stared at him and bit his lip.

The runner opened his mouth and closed it several times before shaking his head to clear his thoughts. When he finally did speak, it was something that made Engineer heave an inward sigh of relief, "Wanna play ball?"

---------------------

Thanks to Pyro's new Backburner, Engineer was now in possession of the flamethrower, if only momentarily. Now equipped with a stronger welding device, Engineer spent most of his free time in his workshop for the next two days.

On the third, he was approximately halfway finished his project. The Texan dropped by Scout's room, having felt that he had ignored him long enough.

"Howdy Scout," he greeted with a tip of his hat and a warm smile.

Scout looked up from his book, which was a text on how to maintain your pistol, and offered Engineer a small smile. "Hey. Busy lately, huh?"

Engineer noted Scout's reserved demeanor and took a seat next to him on his bed. "Everything alright with you?"

The runner closed his book and bit the tip of his thumb. He looked at the wall before replying quietly, "You know that one night... The one where I grabbed one of Demo's bottles?"

Engineer's stomach dropped, but struggled to remain calm. He had wondered how to approach this subject himself and knew that he should be grateful that he wasn't the one who brought it up, but he still hadn't decided how he felt about this.

It was Scout and he liked the boy, he really did, but he wasn't sure about going beyond that level. It wasn't something that screamed at him to be noticed, it wasn't urgent in his subconscious.

Truthfully, Engineer had nothing against the fact that they were both males. He knew the mechanics to that sort of relationship, he just never figured himself to be in one. Romance was not a necessity in his life; he never had the time for courtship and complications. It was amazing it was happening to him in the first place.

But now he was just getting ahead of himself and it was not helping his current predicament.

"Do you remember what happened?" Perhaps it had suddenly dawned on Scout. Or, maybe, the memories had come rushing to him while he was busy and he had been dwelling on them for three days.

Okay, he was definitely getting ahead of himself. Engineer took a deep breath.

"No," Scout replied, "But I want to know. I think I might'a done somethin' stupid, 'cause you never told me nothin' about it! What'd I do, Engie?"

Engineer chewed on the inside of his cheek. He had to do this slowly and brace himself for the interruptions that were bound to occur. "Well, you came to my workshop and... Mistook me for a seat. You told me that you respected me because of my sentries and asked me why I spent my time with you. I told you it was because I liked you, and you seemed content with that answer."

Scout stared hard at the Texan, grabbing fistfuls of his sheets from under him. "Engie, enough with the watered down bullshit. There has t'be some shit that I did! C'mon!"

"You were a bit... touchy."

Scout threw his hands up, a nervous sweat forming on his brow. "Engie! Stop bein' such a fucker!"

Engineer sighed loudly and said, "Alright, you were also a bit hung up on the fact that I liked you."

Scout blanched. Then a sudden rush of blood to his face lit up his countenance like a Christmas tree. He retreated to the far side of the bed, gathering his legs and bringing his knees to his chest.

"Fuck," he muttered into his pants. He repeated the profanity several times for good measure. "Shit, Engie, I think I'm a fag."

Worried and frustrated at the same time, it took a large amount of effort for Engineer to bite back his sarcastic remark. He inhaled deeply and tried for a sympathetic response instead. "You alright?"

"Fuck, Engie! I'm a fuckin' fag! Do you think I'm all fuckin' right?!"

"Scout, it ain't a bad thing, really--"

"Don't tell me it ain't a fuckin' bad thing! What the fuck would you know?! You're fuckin' straight! That's why you were so scared to tell me what happened! Fuck! I bet you have a fuckin' girlfriend, too, one who's real smart like you!"

"Scout, calm down!" Engineer reached out to touch the runner's arm, but he lashed out upon contact, a growl erupting from his throat.

"Fuck! Engie! Get out! Can't deal with this shit right now!"

Engineer scowled and drew back, slamming his fist into the bed. "Dammit, Scout, you're being irrational! We have to deal with this, else you'll end up doin' somethin' stupid!"

"Fuck you! You ain't my ma! Go back to your stupid mechanical shit and just leave me the fuck alone!"

Indignant, Engineer stood up abruptly. "Fine," he spat, heading towards the door. "Come talk to me when you get yourself together."

Because he was a bigger man, Engineer resisted the urge to slam the door. He had more important things to focus his anger on.

---------------------

During ceasefire the following day, there was a light knock at Engineer's door. He put down his book on applied mechanics and answered it to see a cross Medic standing on the other side.

"Howdy, Medic," the Texan greeted with a tip of his hardhat, "What brings you here?"

"Verdammt, Engineer, what has happened between you and Scout? As far as I know, your dispensers are fully functional, and yet he demands my service all the time! With his stamina, I am sure you can estimate how often that is," he snapped, throwing his hands up. His scowl deepened as he continued, "I know that you are closest to him. Do something about the brat before I am forced to do so myself!"

Before Engineer could object, the angry German was already making his way down the hall.

Engineer ground his teeth. He didn't want to be the one to confront Scout. The runner would never learn his lesson that way. But if he was causing enough trouble to his team to provoke Medic to come all the way to his room, then there wasn't much to be done otherwise.

He gripped the doorknob and counted to ten. Engineer considered himself a patient man, and this was no matter to get upset over. Scout was still young and becoming angry over realizing his true sexuality was a reasonable response.

So then why was Engineer so upset?


Engineer knocked on Scout's door three times, but did not wait for him to allow him inside. Instead he barged in and stood at the foot of his bed with his hands on his hips.

"Scout," he said firmly, "You have to stop actin' like such a child. You know you ain't, you always tell people that. So stop runnin' from your problems!"

"Oh, so now you're comin' in here and tellin' me what do to? Again? I told you, y'ain't my ma!" Scout yelled in response, getting to his feet. He had a few inches on Engineer, which he used to his advantage. Scout jabbed an angry finger into Engineer's chest as he said, "I thought that you wouldn't talk to me until I "get myself together" or some shit, so what the fuck're you doin' here?!"

Engineer stared up to look into Scout's eyes and saw that beyond the anger, he was hurt. He felt his chest tighten and drew in a quick breath through his mouth.

"You're causin' too much trouble actin' like this," Engineer explained, his tone more level than before, "There was no more time to waste."

"Y'know what, it ain't my fault! If you weren't such a dick, then I wouldn't be so goddamn mad!"

The Texan's eyebrows were raised behind his hardhat. "What did I ever do to you?"

"You fuckin' screwed me over, that's what!" As soon as those words left his mouth, a small blush lit up Scout's cheeks and he turned away. "Shit, you know what, fuck it, never mind. Just leave me the fuck alone."

"No, no, wait, let's not change the subject so quickly." Engineer smiled smugly at Scout's slip. It was just as good as a confession, but not quite close enough to be significant to Scout himself. "I screwed you over? How so?"

Scout distanced himself further and crossed his arms over his chest. "Just... Y'know," he mumbled lowly, "By bein' there an' shit. Fuck, do I have to explain myself?"

"Since you're so eager to get rid of me, then yeah, you do. Promise I'll leave if you explain what y'mean."

Scout glared at him from over his shoulder and shook his head.

Shrugging, Engineer seated himself on Scout's bed. He sprawled out his limbs as he settled into a comfortable position. "Your choice, partner." When Scout's glare darkened, Engineer gave him a shit eating grin.

Scout paced back and forth, throwing glances at the Texan when he thought he wasn't looking. Sometimes he would stop and chew on the tip of his thumb, but that moment of peace was ruined by the following angry shaking of his head and stomping of his feet. It was during these moments that Engineer was acutely aware of their age difference.

Despite being in his relaxed position, Scout's restlessness was making Engineer feel jumpy and anxious. He was prepared for a ridiculous outburst from the runner, but it didn't make him feel any better knowing it was bound to happen.

Scout slammed his fist against his door, his shoulders slumped and resting by his ears. The jingle of his dog tags was the only sound in the room for that poignant pause before he started speaking.

"Fuck," Scout growled, his head bowed, "I just... don't want you to hate me."

Engineer felt his chest tighten once more. "You don't seem to have a problem with the others apparently hatin' you."

Scout banged his hand against the door again. "Goddammit, Engie, it ain't the same!"

With a sigh, Engineer slid to the edge of the bed. He slouched and placed his elbows on his knees, watching Scout carefully. "Alright Scout. Calm down." At his command, Scout crouched and held his hands on top of his hat, clutching his head. "Now, what is it that you want, boy?"

"I already said."

Another sigh. "Okay. What makes you think that I could ever hate you?"

"'Cause I'm a goddamn fag," Scout replied, his voice wavering. At least he was calmer about it this time around.

"Is that why you asked me about Spy and Sniper?"

Scout nodded slowly, as if he was having a hard time remembering the incident.

"Then you should know how I feel about that, boy."

The runner slid to the floor, still curled up into a ball of long, lean limbs. "B-But this is different, Engie."

Engineer stared at Scout a while longer, a frown stretching his lips. The sight of the boy so motionless and quiet was unnerving, making his breathing difficult and his heart heavy.

"C'mere, Scout," the Texan beckoned softly, "Sit here."

With the speed of a snail, Scout unraveled himself and stood up. He looked at Engineer with heavily guarded eyes, the light reflecting off the film of water that had begun to build up. Engineer waved his hands, motioning towards himself.

"C'mon, boy, I don't bite."

As soon as Scout took a seat next to Engineer, he pulled him into a sideways hug, rubbing his arm up and down. "Listen, Scout... I don't know exactly where this is goin' as of right now, but I do want you to know that I could never hate you." Hate is too strong a word for Engineer's tastes, anyhow. "Stop worryin' so goddanged much. You're just jumpin' to conclusions now."

Scout's arms slid around Engineer's stocky frame and squeezed tight. "Fuck, Engie, you're such a fuckin' fag."

"Well, I guess that makes two of us, huh?"

Scout's head was buried into the crook of Engineer's neck and yet he still managed to punch him on the arm. The smile on Engineer's face did not fade one bit.

---------------------------

Engineer was tuning his guitar, waiting patiently for Scout to finish his conversation with Spy and Sniper. The pair was playing chess in the rec room they had made out of one of the resupply rooms, though Spy looked a lot more interested in playing Scout than the board game in front of him. Sniper was annoyed at the interruption and a faint blush painted his cheeks pink. Engineer politely pretended not to hear their conversation.

"You shouldn't pry, Scout," the Texan said casually once the runner returned, keeping his eyes trained on the strings of his acoustic guitar.

"What? It ain't like I'm askin' them 'bout personal shit, Engie," he replied, taking a seat next to Engineer. Their shoulders bumped, the tips of Engineer's fingers brushing against the strings of his guitar.

"Well I still think..." Engineer paused as he almost said "they're a bad influence". Scout wasn't a child. "I still don't think you should talk to them about that. Sniper is obviously uncomfortable."

"Fuck him, Engie." From across the room, said Australian scowled. "'Sides, who else am I gonna ask? Heavy ain't got good English and Medic's just plain creepy."

Engineer played an experimental strum. It was still a bit flat. "I'm right here, boy."

Scout snorted loudly. "Yeah, and what the fuck would you know? Luckily for you, you're goddamn straight."

Refusing to reply, Engineer played a quick tune. Beside him, Scout became fidgety, shifting his position and almost knocking the guitar right out of his hands.

"And what makes you think that?"

The abrupt question, and the implications behind it, stilled the runner and drew his attention. "Uh," he stammered, "I dunno. You're nice and shit, I don't see why you wouldn't have a girlfriend back home."

Again, Engineer refused to answer. He played whatever came to mind, focusing more on the way Scout perked up at his silence.

Scout placed his hands on his shoulder and leaned in close, squinting at him. "Wait, you don't mean... You're a fag, too?"

With a ghost of a smile on his face, the Texan shrugged. "Ain't got no girlfriend, that's for sure." He readjusted the guitar's position in his lap, well aware of the anticipating stare he was receiving. "It ain't rocket science, Scout. I don't have to have done it to know what to do."

Scout deflated, his hands falling into his lap. "Yeah, sure, dick goes in hole, I know, but knowin' what to do and knowin' what it's like ain't the same thing."

"So you decided you would interview someone to find out the difference."

Scout blushed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well it ain't like I got any other choice, here."

"I'm not so sure of that." Why Engineer was giving the runner ideas, he had no clue. Perhaps it would be easier to give Scout the lead rather than sit and wait to find out what happened. Either way, the lack of progress was making him restless. "But then again, what would I know?"

As Scout gave him a confused look, the Texan stood up to leave. Scout stumbled at the sudden loss of support, his gaze changing to a glare.

"What the fuck d'you mean by that?"

Smiling, Engineer shrugged. "Apparently I know nothing about homosexuality." He glanced at Spy and Sniper, who were not entirely focused on the game anymore. "But if you ask me, I find it easier to learn things by doing them."

Engineer exited the room before Scout could reply, leaving the runner spluttering.


During dinner, Engineer could feel Scout's frustrated and confused gaze from the end of the table. The Texan had arrived late and was now sandwiched between Heavy and Sniper, the larger men hindering his path to the food in the middle. He sighed and put his head in his hands; dinner was never a calm affair.

"Will you get your damned alcohol away from the food!"

From across the table, Engineer could see Medic shoving a drunk Demo away from his personal bubble, earning him fitful giggles from the Scot.

"Fine, fine, but one day y'hafta lemme use this in somethin'."

"If I were ever to make a dish with alcohol in it, I would never use something as revolting as that garbage you seem to drown yourself in."

With a bang, Soldier hit the table, food jumping in their bowls. "I will not tolerate this disorderly conduct at the dining table, is that clear?!"

Medic shot him a glare. "And what gives you the right to be orderi-- Mmmf!" The German was interrupted by a spoon in his mouth.

Heavy smiled from the other side of the eating utensil, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Doctor will keep quiet. There are more important things to be filling mouth with."

The din died down once Heavy reeled back his arm, a smug smirk taking place of his artificial smile. For a second Engineer was relieved of the presence of Scout's intense stare as the runner glanced at Heavy curiously.

The following quiet made the atmosphere a little more bearable, but it made him more aware of the holes Scout was burning into his skull with his eyes. Engineer tugged at the collar of his shirt as heat crawled up his neck. The look was a cross between fury and desire; Scout knew exactly what he wanted, and when, where, and how.

Two could play at this game. After removing his spoon from his mouth, Engineer made sure to run his tongue slowly over the silver, leaving no space untouched. As he set it down, he licked his lips and gave Scout a hooded stare.

Scout was now blushing and trying to resist it. To hide his face, he chugged down most of his water. He continued to watch Engineer over the rim of his glass, waiting for him to make another move.

"Christ, will the two of you get a room?" Sniper said, his voice loud in the quiet room, as he rolled his eyes. "I have this awful feelin' Scout's gonna jump across the table and eat you alive, Engie."

Spy stifled a snicker. "Yes, it would do the both of you well to be a bit more... subtle."

Scowling, perhaps to compensate for his deepening flush causing him to resemble a tomato, Scout stood up, almost knocking his plate over in the process. "Fuck you guys! You don't know nothin'!"

Spy pressed the end of his fork to his lips, holding it delicately between two fingers. "Hmm, I do recall being a boy once... Ah, to be young and naive; what a luxury."

"There ain't nothin' in this goddamn hell hole that's a luxury," Sniper mumbled around his spoon.

Shaking his head, Spy poked Sniper with the pronged end of his fork. "Except for cigarettes, oui?"

Sniper smiled wryly. "If there're any left, I s'pose."

"I ain't gettin' any of what you old geezers're talkin' about," Scout said, regarding them with indifference. His face had returned to its natural color and his composure was in check. "But whatever. I don't gotta deal with your bullshit; I'm outta here."

At a loss, Engineer watched the runner leave the table without so much as a glance in his direction. Medic mumbled something about cleaning up your mess as Demo thrust his bottle at the Texan, offering him a crooked smile.

"I s'pose you could use a bit o' this, huh?"

Engineer gave him a strained smile, pushing the bottle away. "No thank you, s'alright." He stared at Scout's retreating back for a moment longer before standing up himself.

"Thanks for dinner, Medic," the Texan said, grabbing Scout's plate on the way over to the sink. Once away from the table, he sighed. Now provoked, he knew that Scout would be even more unpredictable than before and Engineer wasn't so sure he would stop him when he finally approached him.



After dinner, Engineer hovered around in his room, busying himself with cleaning it. He had left the decision up to Scout and that was that. It was either he took the chance or he didn't. The thought didn't ease his anticipation nonetheless, hoping against hope that the runner would come.

The way the door slammed open signaled Scout's entrance. Engineer was used to it by now and did not flinch once the sound reached his ears. Even the runner's approaching footsteps did not disturb him.

What did catch him off guard him, however, was the sharp tug on the straps of his overalls, drawing him closer to the young man until their noses bumped. The white-knuckled grip on his clothing barely registered to Engineer as the pressure of Scout's lips on his quickly overwhelmed any other feeling he had time to experience in the single, fluid motion.

"Engie," Scout growled once he pulled away, glaring at the Texan angrily, "Fuck. I can't fucking take this shit anymore!"

Engineer opened his mouth to reply, but Scout kissed him again, effectively cutting him off.

"Fuck no. You're not gonna have a say in this, 'cause you had your goddamn chance to say no already."

With no room to argue the flawless point, Engineer had no choice but to succumb to the hungry mouth at his, keeping him quiet with passionate, angry kisses. Scout's hands moved from his overalls to his back, pulling him close to his chest as he pressed more sloppy kisses to his lips.

When Scout almost bit his tongue, Engineer caught his jaw and held him still, finally returning his kiss with something slower, craning his head to compensate for their height difference.

Scout moved to his jaw, his neck, pulling the collar of his shirt open to reveal more skin. While he distracted Engineer with licks and nips, he pushed him towards the wall, taking small steps so they wouldn't fall to the floor. At this point Engineer wouldn't have cared, but he appreciated the gesture as he was pinned against the wall.

"Fuck, Engie," Scout murmured with a smirk, his hands busy with the buttons on his overalls and his shirt, "I've never noticed how short you are 'til now."

Engineer bit his neck, smirking himself when he felt Scout flinch. "Shut up, boy. I could very well leave--"

Scout kissed him again. "Now that's a fun way to shut a motherfucker up."

The runner occupied himself with the spot behind Engineer's ear, slipping a hand under his shirt in the process. Any replies the Texan had died on his lips, becoming replaced with a gasp when the bandages on Scout's hands touched the warm surface of his skin. Scout wasted no time in dragging the article of clothing to his chest, the overalls falling to his waist to bunch over his belt.

"Scout..." he groaned, panting by Scout's ear, "Do you know where you're going with this...?"

Scout's cheek brushed against his when the runner grinned. "Well, y'managed to explain it so well to me earlier. Dick goes in hole, remember?" He continued to speak while he unbuckled Engineer's belt, the tools inside clanging as they fell. "Don't tell me y'don't want this, 'cause I got hard evidence that y'do."

Scout's hand ghosted over the waistline of his underwear and Engineer shivered. "Alright... But... Hah..." A thumb slipped under the elastic band. "I hope you're... prepared..." The rest of his sentence was gone with the wind as the rest of Scout's hand followed his thumb.

"'Course I'm prepared. That fuckin' Spook was more'n happy to spare some of this." Scout held up a small tube of lube, a wry smile on his face. From Engineer's hazy gaze he could see that he was flushed and just as out of breath as he was. His ability to talk clearly must have been a result from running and talking, often at the same time.

That sarcastic smile on Scout's face disappeared when Engineer's eyes fluttered closed. The warm pressure around his cock, Scout's long fingers sliding up and down his skin, was chasing away any coherent thought that dared to surface in his mind. When the runner's thumb swirled over the head, he let out a low moan.

"Nnngh, Scout... We won't even... get to use it if y'keep goin' on like this..." the Texan breathed, resisting the urge to throw his head back. Damn, it had been too long since the last time he...

"True that." All too soon, Scout removed his hand from Engineer's underwear. As a second thought, he pulled them down, freeing the Texan's erection. "C'mon, let's move somewhere more comfortable, hmm?"

The runner sauntered off to the bed, placing the lube between his teeth so he could strip on the way there. Engineer hurried after him, yanking the rest of his clothes off from his chest and from around his ankles.

Before Scout could get smart with him again, Engineer pushed him flat on the bed and held his wrists together with one hand, sliding down to his hips. Scout squirmed from under him.

"H-Hey!" he protested when Engineer's fingers unhooked a few loose bandages to tighten his hold on his hands, "Let me go!"

Chin resting on his stomach, Engineer spared Scout a smirk. "Only if you be quiet, boy. Lemme have some fun of my own."

Scout's objections died out when the Texan gave his cock an experimental lick. He trailed his tongue down the underside of his shaft, watching Scout carefully.

Blushing, Scout stared down at Engineer as he propped himself up on his elbows. "Are you sure you wanna--" He cut his sentence short once Engineer took him into his mouth. "Oh, fuck, Engie..."

Engineer paused, releasing Scout's cock to glare at him. A quiet protest escaped the runner's lips and Engineer had to bite back a sigh. "Boy, do you ever shut your mouth?" When Scout let out a breathy laugh and shook his head, Engineer rolled his eyes and resumed his work, his bobbing.

"Man, don't you know me at all? Of c-course I--" he stopped to groan when Engineer applied light pressure to the slit with his tongue. "D-Don't, but damn do you l-look good with yours full-- Sh-Shit, Engie...!" His train of thought was interrupted once Engineer's hand joined his mouth.

Scout bucked into Engineer's mouth, throwing his head back into the sheets. The sudden movement caught the Texan off guard and he moved back to avoid gagging.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and slid back to eye level. "Not so fast," he murmured, kissing the side of his neck as he waited for Scout's heavy panting to subside, ignoring his own uneven breathing. Once he felt that Scout would be able to reply coherently, he said, "Now, tell me what you want, boy."

Still slightly dazed and frustrated, Scout gave Engineer a questioning glance. "What do you mean...?"

Engineer found the tube of lube lying next to Scout's arm and waved it in front of his face.

"O-Oh!" If it were possible, Scout's flushed face darkened to a deeper shade of red. He considered it a moment, his hands absently wandering over Engineer's sides, his stomach, his hips, stopping once he found a firm place to rest them on. "R-Right. Um. Lemme just-- uh, could you roll over, Engie?"

Engineer allowed himself a small smile as he complied with the awkward request, switching positions with Scout so that the runner was on top. While he adjusted, Engineer opened the bottle and smeared a generous amount on his fingers. He reached between his legs and began to prepare himself.

Scout watched with fascination as Engineer slipped a finger into his entrance. It slid in and out slowly, building speed until he was ready to add another. All the while Engineer's breathing grew heavy again, his eyes barely open.

"Do you..." Scout bit his lip. "D'you need some help with that?"

Engineer's hooded eyes flickered from his task to look at Scout, a whimper escaping from his mouth once he opened it to reply. "Only... i-if you're offering."

Scout took the lube from the man under him and slicked up both his hands, using one to take the place of Engineer's fingers and the other to lubricate himself.

Once Scout had three fingers in Engineer without any protests, he figured he was ready. He willed his voice to stay level as he asked, "Ready for somethin' bigger?"

Engineer let out a long, shaky breath. "Whenever you are."

Engineer spread his legs as Scout placed a hand on his hip, the other a steady guide on his cock. They exchanged a look before he slid in. It took a huge amount of effort from Scout to resist thrusting once he felt that deliciously tight heat surround him, biting his lip as he eased himself further.

"Are..." Scout stopped to groan lowly. "Are you... okay?"

Engineer reached up to pull Scout's head down for a kiss. He nibbled on his bottom lip as he adjusted to the feeling of being stretched, considering the question.

"Not 'less... you start movin'," he finally answered, his breath hot and moist on Scout's mouth.

Pulling out, Scout adjusted Engineer's legs so that they were slung over his arms. He kissed him again, quick and sloppy as the runner's mind left him with his thrusts. Almost absently Scout's hand found Engineer's dick and stroked him until he found rhythm with his hips.

Scout drove in farther, splaying Engineer's legs with him. He enjoyed the particularly loud moan that followed the deep thrust, making it his mission to hit the spot again and again. With every slam of his hips Engineer cried out, wrapping his arms around Scout's neck to pull him in for another kiss.

Scout's speed was starting to overwhelm the Texan, sparks flying from behind his eyelids. He still managed to scream for more, encouraging like he always was. "Ungh, h-harder! God, Scout, harder!"

Swearing under his breath, the runner was more than happy to oblige. The building heat in the pit of his stomach felt fit to burst as he thrust without abandon.

"Fuckfuckfuck, Engie, I...! Sh-Shit, I'm gonna...!" His words trailed off into a throaty moan, Engineer's groans of pleasure mixing with his.

The Texan was just as close, throwing his head back as Scout's thumb brushed over the head of his cock. "Scout! Oh, god, so close...!"

With one last jerk of Scout's hand, Engineer came, yelling Scout's name and other barely intelligible words that no ear was attentive enough to filter out. Scout came soon after, his curses loud and mixed with cries of "Engie!".

Scout collapsed onto Engineer with as much grace as a fish out of water, pulling out just before he landed. Engineer's legs fell with him, resting on either side of the runner lying on top of him. As their breathing evened out, the Texan rubbed his leg against the back of Scout's, his hand making paths up and down Scout's back.

"You're such a fucker," the runner mumbled into Engie's neck, finding Engineer's shoulder and rubbing his thumb into the skin. "The whole thing at the table was such bullshit."

Engineer hummed. "I would have thought that maybe the conversation beforehand was worse."

"S

149 .

(Heh. Still getting used to character limits, etc.)

"Same thing. Either way, you're a motherfuckin' tease."

With a smile, Engineer took the hand on his shoulder and twined their fingers together. "You like it, though. Else we wouldn't be here, would we?"

Scout frowned before planting a quick kiss on Engineer's mouth. "Yeah sure-- WAIT." As if his hand was on fire, Scout reeled it away from the Texan's to give it a disgusted look. "Shit! Didn't you--?! Fuck, I gotta get these bandages off!"

Just as quickly as he had removed his hand, Scout sat up, tearing the stained strips of cloth from his hand. They fluttered to the floor as Scout grimaced, turning his hand over to examine it as if expecting some disease to pop out of nowhere.

Engineer rolled his eyes. "Goodness, boy, stop bein' so silly and get back down here." He used the hand on his back to pull the runner down to his chest.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Would you like to have, like, sperm on your hand? Huh?"

Engineer ignored the question and petted the back of Scout's head, yawning. "Think I'd like to get some shut eye, Scout."

Scout yawned in response, nestling in closer to Engineer's body. His feet dangled off the edge of the bed from his current position, but he didn't care. "Hmm, me too." His now bare hand grabbed Engineer's, holding it close to his chest. "G'night, Engie."

"G'night, Scout."


Engineer awoke to the sight of a warm, long body in his arms. The surprise didn't register in his mind until the sleep in his system ebbed away, and when it did, it came with some pleasant memories of the night before.

He admired Scout's sleeping form, watching as his back rose and fell with his breaths. He rubbed the base of the runner's neck, patiently waiting for Scout to wake up and greet him.

It wasn't the first time Engineer had woken up to find another person in his bed, but the last time he could remember was in his early years in university. The time between then and now was too great in order for him to recall the exact moment in time, but he knew it existed. Now that it was finally happening again, he found it shocking that it was in his workplace.

Scout sighed, interrupting his thoughts. He snuggled closer, his breath fanning out against Engineer's neck. "Engie..."

Smiling, Engineer returned the embrace and laced his arms around Scout's middle. "G'mornin', Scout."

"Mornin'," he mumbled in reply, his lips brushing lightly against Engineer's throat. Scout lifted his head to yawn, then rub his eyes. A dopey smile stretched his lips once he opened his eyes all the way and he brushed his thumb over Engie's cheek.

Engineer caught the hand floating by his face and rubbed the back of it with his thumb. Returning the smile, he brought the hand to his lips and kissed it softly. Scout rolled his eyes, but when he yanked his hand away and replaced it with his own lips, he was still smiling.

Scout broke away first, snaking his arms around Engineer's neck and pressing his cheek into his shoulder. "Y'know, I dunno why we didn't do this sooner."

Engineer could think of a few reasons, most of them regarding their reluctance to make a move, but stayed silent and shrugged. One of his hands found a scar on the runner's back and he ran his fingers over it. "Might as well enjoy it while we can, huh?"

Scout lifted his head and fixed a curious gaze on Engineer, his eyebrows knotting together. As he was quiet, the expression grew to become downcast. He buried his face into the crook of Engineer's neck and held him tighter.

"I don't..." Scout's words were muffled and it didn't help that he was speaking under his breath. "I... Fuck, don't say that, Engie..."

Engineer blanched. He hadn't meant it like that. Thinking about after the war... No, he didn't want to touch it with a fifty foot pole.

"Scout, it's gonna be okay," he said, gathering Scout's chin in both hands. He forced Scout to meet his eyes, finding his frightened gaze unnerving. Engineer suppressed a shiver; Scout would be able to feel it due to their proximity. "Shh. Don't-- I didn't mean it like that, Scout."

Scout blinked, hard, and kissed Engineer with just as much strength. He didn't say anything more, and Engineer was glad for it.

A few knocks came to the door, the quick taps impatient. Knowing his teammates, Engineer hunted around for a blanket and threw it over himself and Scout just before the door opened.

"You know," Spy started, smirking as he stuck his head in the doorway, "Waking up the team is normally Soldier's job, but after last night 'e does not want to be anywhere near the two of you." He paused to take a drag of his cigarette. "Or anywhere near me or Sniper, for that matter. You two were a rather... effective reminder."

Scout's face lit up as he blushed, the heat radiating off him in waves. Engineer offered Spy a sheepish smile and flushed as well.

"I'm sorry if we caused anyone a bother," Engineer said. He would have tipped his hat, but from his position all he could do was smile apologetically.

Spy's smirk curved into a wry smile. "Do not apologize, Laborer, I am sure you could not 'ave controlled what 'ad come out of your mouth... Or in it." He grinned and released a puff of smoky air. "But this only gives the team... ideas, so I would be more discreet next time, if I were you."

He turned to leave, but abruptly stopped in his tracks and placed a hand in the doorway. "Oh, and by the way, breakfast is ready, but do not be surprised to see that the team is un'appy with you."

As soon as the door closed, Scout jumped to his feet and started to gather his clothes. Engineer rubbed his eyes and sat up at a much more leisurely pace. He couldn't help what the rest of the team thought, after all.

-----------------------------

Scout sat next to Engineer at the table. It looked a lot bigger when Heavy and Soldier were not present. Across from the pair was Sniper and Spy, Medic sitting on the right end and Demoman sitting opposite him.

"Hoo, boy," Demo said with a crooked grin, motioning towards Scout with his bottle, "I know you're mouthy t'start with, but lad, y'sure howled up a storm last night. Didn't help me hangover at all, but s'more amusing now that I'm drunk again."

Medic glared at the Scot from over his large cup of coffee. "Of course only a drunkard could find the humor in being deprived of sleep." He looked at Scout and Engineer, the latter of which was slowly shrinking in his seat, "If I were not already busy with my work, I would have... Ach, forget it." He dragged his fingers over his forehead before glancing up at Engie. "Though I do have to say that I am surprised that you, Engineer, of all people, would be so... careless, as to what you engage in inside of the base."

Engineer blushed, slapping a hand across his face. Of all the ways to word it. "I'm sorry, Doc. Won't happen again."

Scout dropped his toast in surprise. "Wait, what? Engie, what are you sayin'..." He trailed off and blushed the same shade as the Texan, hurrying to hide his face in his glass of milk. "Fuck. Never mind."

Spy smiled smugly. "See, does it not do well to be private like me and Sniper?"

Beside him, Sniper blanched, almost knocking the coffee out of his mug as he set it down too quickly. "Ugh, do you have to be so bloody open about that sorta thing? We barely had time to discuss the matters of Scout's devirginizing."

Scout leapt to his feet. "Hey! How the fuck would you know whether or not I'm a virgin!?"

"Let's just say that I am... Well acquainted with the RED Spy," Spy replied, giving him a wide grin. "Do not be ashamed. You cannot be far over the legal age in America-- twenty-one, is it?"

"I'll kill you, motherfucker!"

Engineer grabbed the back of Scout's shirt before he could jump onto the table. "No use in killin' your own teammate, no matter how much you want to." When the runner settled down, Engineer shot Spy a glare. "Think it'd be kind of you to keep family affairs outside the base, partner."

Spy shrugged, still smiling. "If that is what you wish."

Scout planted both palms on the table and gave Spy a heated stare. "I don't need to know nothin' 'bout that goddamn motherfucker who's messin' with my ma! Don't you dare mention him again!"

"All of this noise," Medic muttered to himself as he stood up, shaking his head, "Do not mess up the table too much. I am not cleaning up after you dummkopfs again."

Demo, on the other hand, was laughing so hard, he was bent over the table. "Aye! Best stay out o' this one. But I see where th'lad's got his sex drive from! Vroom vroom!" He left the kitchen laughing.

The blush returned to Scout's face and he stood there, staring at the empty spot where Demo had been. Engineer had to yank him back down so that they could finish eating.

"So..." Spy pressed the end of his spoon to his lips in place of his cigarette; he was not allowed to smoke when in close proximity with Scout, just to be safe. "If you do not mind me asking, I am curious; who was the, ah, pitcher and who was the catcher?"

Sniper nudged Spy hard, muttering something under his breath harshly. It was too quiet to be understood clearly, but his mouth moved for too long for him to be calling the Frenchman "Spy".

Engineer drank his coffee, refusing to answer the question. Spy had no right to know, even if he... engaged in similar activities.

"I think that I 'ave a right to know, mon coureur," Spy added with a disarming smile, "After all, who was it that lent you that bottle of lubricant? Who was it that told you--"

"Alright, alright, shut up already," Scout hissed. He ground his teeth together. "If y'want to know so bad--"

"Scout!" Engineer touched Scout's shoulder, prompting him to stop speaking. He looked the runner in the eye, glanced at Spy, then regarded him once more. "You don't need to tell him anything. It ain't none of his business."

"So you 'ave 'ad sex once and already l'Ingénieur 'as you on a leash." Spy looked at his nails with a disinterested look on his face. "I can assume it is the same way in bed, non?"

"Hey! I don't take it up the fuckin' ass for your goddamn information!"

Sniper stood, rolling his eyes. He tugged on the back of Spy's suit collar, pulling him up as well. "Y'say that as if it's a bad thing. Yer still new at this, so I'll give ya some slack. You, however," he continued, glaring at Spy, "Are coming with me. You honestly don't know when to stop, do ya?"

"Ah, but mon amour, you see, I am only 'aving a bit of fun--"

"Don't give me yer bullshit. Are you fergettin' who yer dealin' with here?"

Their argument carried throughout the kitchen and down the halls as Sniper pulled Spy away from the pair sitting at the kitchen table.

Engineer sighed and covered his eyes with his hand. "Those folks're a bad influence."

"Yeah," Scout agreed. He stared at the doorway to the kitchen for a moment longer, then turned to Engineer and grinned. "But it's still real fuckin' funny to see Spy as Sniper's bitch."


Engineer looked at Scout over the dispenser. "A bit wary of spies today, aren'tcha?"

Scout removed his hat and scratched at his scalp. "Fuck. It's just that-- Spy made me a little mad earlier, is all."

"Well, it's still not a good idea to waste so many shots on the air." Engineer flinched when the sentry beside him suddenly went off, the blasts of bullets ringing in his ears. When it finished, he put a hand to his helmet and continued, "Reloading leaves you open for too long for my liking."

"Well, ain't that what respawn is for?" Scout grinned and leaned over the dispenser, planting a quick kiss on Engineer's mouth. "Don't worry about me so much. These bastards can barely take me on a regular basis, I'm sure they could use a break."

The Texan sighed and brushed his gloved hand over Scout's shoulder, his thumb ghosting over his clavicle. "I'd rather you just talk to Pyro about spy-checking."

Scout hummed in thought. "Yeah, I guess I could. He could set 'em on fire and I'd just beat 'em to death with my bat!"

Engineer grinned. "Atta boy." He tightened his grip on the runner's shoulder, then as a fleeting thought crossed his mind, pulled him in in for another kiss. His hand trailed up his neck to rest on his chin, keeping him in place.

When Scout pulled away, he drew in a deep breath through his nose. "Y'know, Engie, if y'do that I might end up bein' here all day."

"I wouldn't mind that at all." Engineer smiled as Scout leaned in again, but he stopped him before their lips could connect. "But I think the rest of the team would. Go on, boy, get back out there; the REDs'll be missin' ya."

Scout bit his bottom lip and glanced out the window the sentry was peeking out of, catching a glimpse of their Heavy making his slow journey to the front lines.

"Fine," he said in defeat, "But first..." He tugged on one of Engineer's overall straps and kissed him again, using his other hand to hold Engineer's head in place.

Engineer lingered when Scout pulled away, earning him a smirk from the runner. He sighed, smiling. "Okay, okay, Scout, you better go now."

"Don't worry, Engie, I always finish what I start!" Scout yelled over his shoulder, jumping out of the window.

---------------------------

As soon as the alarm rang to signal ceasefire, Scout caught up to Engineer. He glanced around to make sure that none of their teammates were nearby before pinning Engineer to the wall, smirking as he leaned in.

"Do you remember what I said earlier?" he asked, tone husky and murmured under his breath. Scout nipped at Engineer's jaw. "I plan on pickin' up right where we left off..."

Engineer grunted in reply, turning his head so their lips met. It was a quick kiss, to keep the mouth at bay. "Right here? Ah... don't think that's a good idea."

"Fuck that." Scout grabbed Engineer's hands before he could push him away and kissed him hard, determined to unravel the Texan with his lips and tongue. With some hesitation Engineer found himself returning the kiss, moving his hands so that their fingers were twined together. Both of Scout's lean legs pinned him from either side, so it wasn't as if he was going anywhere.

Scout pulled away, panting. He offered Engineer a smug grin and reached out to pull off his hardhat, throwing it to the floor. When his hands returned to Engineer's head again, he was much slower in sliding back Engineer's goggles onto his forehead, watching with rapt fascination as Engineer's light green eyes were revealed. He stopped and stared at him, arms still suspended in the air.

"Y'know," Scout said, a goofy grin on his face, "When I first got here, I used t'think you were like, some kinda robot-- I mean, with Medic's crazy gun and respawn, why the hell not, right? You never got mad, like-- ragin' mad, and you were always smilin' that damned smile--"

He stooped down to kiss Engineer again, soft and feather light.

"Then y'started takin' off your goggles durin' ceasefire and I thought, goddamn he has nice eyes, why don't he take those off more often?" Scout let out a small, breathy chuckle, "S'much more satisfyin' to take 'em off myself, though."

Engineer took Scout's jaw into both hands, giving him a slow kiss. It was rare for Scout to compliment him in such a straight forward manner, so he thanked him in a way that Scout could understand without difficulty. He pulled back and nibbled on Scout's bottom lip for a brief moment before moving away to nuzzle his cheek and neck.

With a light chuckle, Scout began to undo the buttons of Engineer's overalls. Engineer leaned back against the wall and let his hands roam over Scout's torso, feeling the lean muscles under Scout's blue shirt. Once the straps were down and the overalls were falling over Engineer's belt, Scout kissed him again, using the same slow and sensuous pace Engineer loved.

"Ugh!"

The cry of surprised disgust startled the pair against the wall, their lips separating with a loud smack. Scout jumped a foot away from Engineer, a hand over his heart. Meanwhile, Engineer hurried to fix his overalls and button up his shirt.

"Jesus, Sniper! You scared the shit outta me!" Scout exclaimed, eyes wide. Sniper returned the stare with his own wide eyed look, his lips pressed into a deep frown.

"I scared you? You're th'one making out in the bloody hall! You can't expect people to not pass by!" Sniper scowled, averting his eyes. "...I heard that goddamn helmet fall and wondered what was goin' on. The reason I didn't get here sooner was--"

"Moi, bien sûr," Spy interjected with a smug smile, sliding out from behind the doorway leading into the hall and onto Sniper's shoulders, "My, my, you did not listen to me at all, did you? For all you know, it could 'ave been Soldier, and then what would you do? 'E would 'ave your 'eads."

A blush spread across Sniper's cheeks once Spy's weight settled onto his body. "Jesus, Spy, d'you have to do this now?"

Scout rolled his eyes. "Fuck, Spook, didn't I have enough of ya today? Leave me an' Engie the fuck alone."

"You can never get enough of a good thing, chéri." He hummed before his smile grew, resembling that of the Cheshire cat. "I 'ave a proposition for you, but you will 'ave to come with me and Sniper."

Before Scout could fall for whatever it was that Spy was planning, like he always did, apparently, Engineer spoke up. "An' just what exactly d'you have in mind?"

"It will be quite pleasant for you, aussi, I assure you," Spy leaned further on Sniper's shoulder, hooking an arm around his neck to waggle a finger at them in a "come hither" motion.

Engineer wasn't certain of Spy's motives behind his actions, and he wasn't one to trust the Frenchman, either. "You didn't answer my question." Despite his hesitant reply, Engineer took a step forward as if to follow Spy.

"Patience is a virtue, oui? All will be explained eventually, l'Ingénieur."

Spy tugged Sniper out from where they had entered without another word. Engineer exchanged a glance with Scout.

"C'mon, man, y'can't expect me t'not be curious after alla that," Scout said, his expression flat. He started towards the doorway. "'Sides, what harm could it do? Spy already has enough shit on us, ain't gonna make it any worse."

Engineer sighed and followed behind him. "You hear that sayin'? "Curiosity killed the cat"?"

"Yeah, but don't you know the other half of that sayin'? "Satisfaction brought it back."" Scout grinned and grabbed Engineer's wrist, running to catch up to Spy and Sniper.

Spy was leaning close to Sniper's ear, whispering lowly. He had a casual hand pressed into the small of Sniper's back and the corner of smile could be seen by the way his head was tilted.

Scout dragged Engineer to walk side by side with the other pair. "Yo Spook! Y'gonna tell me what this is about, or what?"

Spy threw a glance over his shoulder, peeved at being interrupted. He was quick to wipe off any signs of irritation on his face and replaced it with a smile.

"I am only 'ere to provide you with information," he said, his smile disarming, "Am I not a reliable source, mon coureur?"

Sniper scoffed, looking to the side. Engineer caught the look of disbelief and frowned, but he did not bring it up. He had a gut feeling that this whole ordeal would not end up entirely favorably, but Scout wanted to do it and that was enough motivation for him.

Scout scowled. "Well, y'ain't gotta be so vague 'bout it. Unless you're plannin' on surprisin' us or somethin'?"

The smile on Spy's face grew. "Oui, that is exactly what I plan to do."

"Ain't gonna be long, anyhow," Sniper said, his arm now around Spy's waist. "Almost there."

"Where exactly are we going?" The vague intentions of their little walk was starting to get to Engineer; his voice was high with frustration.

"You will see shortly," Spy replied.

They had gone through several hallways and were now heading towards a door Engineer had never seen before. In fact, he had only seen the previous halls in passing and when he did, they were always empty.

Spy removed himself from Sniper's grip to open the door, revealing a large room. They had gone all the way down to the Intelligence room, though through a different route than Engineer was used to.

"The hell are we doin' here?" Scout asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

With a sigh, Spy found his partner and headed into the spacious room. "I am disappointed that you did not know this path to the Intelligence. I find it surprising that we 'ave an even record for briefcases captured when you do not know every single route." He shook his head. "I suppose it is your youth."

Scout gave him a cocky grin. "Yeah, and also 'cause I don't suck on them cigarettes all day, so I got lung capacity t'run like hell."

Spy rolled his eyes, continuing as if he hadn't heard the response at all. He ducked behind a staircase, warning the others to watch their heads. There were many staircases in the Intel room; Engineer would have never even thought of looking under the one closest to the back. It was also the farthest from the briefcase, but he did remember running up and down this flight of stairs many times.

They stood, or in Sniper's case, crouched, in a low hallway. Spy shuffled to the door at the end of the passage quickly, a hand on top of his balaclava. Sniper followed just as quickly, eager to get out of the cramped space. Engineer and Scout exchanged looks and traveled at their own pace.

"Do you remember what I said about being discreet, mes amis?" Spy said, spreading his hands.

At the end of the hall was a room filled with a bed and many filing cabinets. The cabinets were pushed up against the wall, a stray tie or sock lying on their surfaces.

"This is where they used to keep the information in the briefcase," Spy explained. He wandered over to one of the cabinets and picked up the tie before rolling it neatly. "I am not certain why BLU stopped using it, but it might be related to the broken locks on the drawers." He shrugged.

Sniper took a seat on the bed. "Y'know, Spook, I can't seem to find the point of doin' this. Y'bloody killed the mood, as well."

Spy hummed and stood by the Australian at the foot of the bed. "The idea does not... interest you? At all?"

"I'm not sure I'd like sharin', is all."

"Hold up, fags," Scout said, "The hell does this have to do with being discreet?"

Engineer blanched. He scanned the area for the telltale signs and found open wrappers and half-empty tubes and-- Just as quickly as the blood had rushed from his face, it came back. With a hand over his face, he mumbled, "Scout, they, ah, they have, err--"

"Ah, so it is l'Ingénieur that figures it out in the end." Spy began tugging off his gloves. "Oui, this is where we have sex."

Sniper blushed as well, tipping his hat so it hid his eyes. "I don't know how the hell y'can be so bloody casual 'bout that."

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, mon amour."

"WAIT YOU GODDAMN FAGS, YOU STILL DIDN'T--" Scout's face became blank when the pieces clicked together. The accusing finger he was holding fell, as well, a flush settling in his cheeks. "Wh-- Spook-- Sniper-- Y'don't mean?"

Spy slid his tie off his shoulders and rolled it also. "I admit that the long journey over did not 'elp the, ah, build up, but yes, that is my proposition."

He shrugged off his jacket as he approached Scout slowly, making sure to make a show of it as it slid off his shoulders. Spy wrapped an arm around Scout's waist and pulled him in, running a fingertip over his jawline.

"Are you interested?" he asked, his tone low and coated in husky undertones.

Scout stuttered, frozen. He glanced at Engineer. "I-I, I dunno, man, only if Engie's okay with it, I guess--"

Engineer braced his weight against the door and looked between Scout, Sniper, and Spy. The idea wasn't entirely new, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to do this with his teammates. Complications could arise from engaging in such activities, and Scout was already enough to deal with, along with his studies and the war and--

"We will not tell a soul, I assure you," Spy added, amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, "And whether you wish to do it again afterward is entirely up to you. I simply could not pass up the opportunity."

"But why us?" Engineer blurted, "I'm sure you coulda picked Heavy and Medic for this kind of thing."

Sniper snorted. "Please. Medic's too much of a prude t'do such a thing. 'Sides, he's a bit touchy about these kinda things, y'know? If it weren't fer Heavy's enthusiasm 'bout their relationship, I doubt anyone'd even know they were together." He smiled and added, "Spy here's a bit picky, as well."

"Excuse me if I know what I want," Spy replied, shooting Sniper a look over his shoulder. It was clear he was teasing. "So, what do you say? If you do not wish to join us, there is another room under the other staircase..."

He leaned in to nibble at Scout's ear. "C'est votre choix, mes amis."

Would it really hurt? Engineer wanted to ease Scout into the sexual part of their relationship at a steady pace, and this did not involve having a foursome with two of their teammates. But Spy had moved to Scout's neck, then his jaw, and before he knew it he was kissing Scout, startling the both of them. Engineer tugged at his collar, heat crawling up his neck as Scout hesitantly kissed him back.

"Ain't such a bad sight, is it, Engie?" Sniper asked, smirking. He stood, taking his time as he approached Spy and laced his arms around his middle. "Wouldn't hurt ya much, if y'ask me."

One of Sniper's hands disappeared under Spy's shirt, the other going to tug at his balaclava. Scout was panting against Spy's mouth as the mask was pulled from Spy's head, revealing messy black hair.

Blood was moving both north and south now and Engineer gulped. Maybe... it wouldn't be such a bad idea to join them.


Scout pulled away from Spy and pressed his forehead into his shoulder. "Fuck, you taste like... I dunno, burnt ass, maybe. I see that tongue's not just good at sweet talkin', though."

Spy grinned. "See, if you would like to know what cigarettes taste like, I will not object if you do this."

"I will," Sniper said into Spy's neck, biting it. "Y'tease." He threw the balaclava over his shoulder and began to unbutton Spy's vest with the ease of familiarity. It came off quickly, falling between the two bodies to crumple on the floor.

Scout caught his breath and reached out for Engineer. "C'mon, Engie, get over here already." The room wasn't very big, so Scout managed to grab one of Engineer's overall straps and pulled him in. He staggered to Scout's side and as soon as he was in within arm's reach, Spy took a hold of his chin and kissed him.

Scout was right; he tasted strongly of cigarettes. Engineer was on his toes to compensate for the height difference and the distance between them, which was cut when Scout rearranged him so he was pressing the runner against Spy. Soon his belt was off and his overalls were coming off, too.

Sniper mumbled something about tripping over clothes and began to tug Spy towards the bed.

"So impatient, chéri," Spy said with a laugh. He took one of Scout's wrists and one of Engineer's and pulled them along with him.

The bed was barely enough to accommodate four people, but it gave more freedom in terms of movement. Spy pushed Sniper's undershirt up to his chest and kissed his stomach. A low groan escaped his lips, only to be cut short by Scout's mouth.

"You taste like that shit, too," Scout muttered under his breath. "Do you guys share everything?"

"Mostly," Sniper replied. He stretched to grab Spy's ass, pulling him up to eye level. "This's mine, though, so try to take it and you're losin' important stuff."

Spy licked a path up Sniper's throat, giving Scout a sideways glance. "Oui, 'e 'as 'is kukri around 'ere somewhere, je pense."

Engineer rolled his eyes and pinned Scout alongside Sniper. "Y'all talk too much," he said, voice rough with arousal. He pulled off Scout's shirt and threw it to the side of the bed before leaning in to plant kisses over his chest. Both of Scout's arms wrapped around his torso to rake blunt nails across his back, whimpering when Engineer took one of Scout's nipples into his mouth.

"Y-Yeah, well, you're wearin' too much clothes," Scout breathed in response, rushing to unbutton Engineer's shirt. He slipped up and one of them popped off. Engineer let it go when Spy's lips found his again. Somewhere in their exchange his goggles fell off, sliding down his back and to the foot of the bed.

Scout finished with Engineer's shirt and hurried to pull off his undershirt, lavishing his chest with his mouth and tongue. Spy crawled over Sniper, still holding onto the back of Engineer's neck, giving the Australian access to Engineer, as well. Sniper kissed the side of Spy's jaw before pressing his mouth onto the crook of Engineer's shoulder, nipping at his clavicle as he made his way down his chest. He met up with Scout and kissed him roughly, breaking apart to tug and bite at his bottom lip.

Engineer groaned against Spy's mouth, unfamiliar with all the attention he was receiving. The two mouths on his torso were replaced with four wandering hands, touching and stroking heated skin. It was difficult to clear his hazy mind enough to undo Spy's belt, leaving his lips to plant butterfly kisses over Spy's shoulders, chest, and stomach. He slipped one hand past the waistband of Spy's underwear and the Frenchman exhaled lowly.

"Merde, Ingénieur," Spy moaned. His accent was much thicker now, hands scrabbling at Engineer's back. He bucked his hips into Engineer's hand.

"Eager, huh, Spy?" Engineer chuckled, abandoning Spy's cock to pull his pants all the way down to his ankles. Situated between his legs, Engineer ran his tongue over Spy's erection slowly, smirking when Spy's moan grew higher in pitch.

Sniper paused to stare at Engineer's head between his boyfriend's legs, unsure if he was annoyed or aroused. Scout growled and sharply turned Sniper's jaw to face him.

"Hey, pal, eyes here," he said and grabbed the Australian's shoulders to pin him down. Sniper's head almost smacked into Spy's with the force and proximity between them. Scout slunk down his long body to mirror Engineer's position. "I want ya t'see alla this, too."

Soon Sniper's pants were pooled around his ankles, along with his boxers. Scout kissed the head of his dick, eliciting a low groan from Sniper.

"Wh-What is this, a game of monkey see, monkey do?" Sniper asked, his laugh unsteady and breathy.

"Whatever it is, enjoy it while you can, cher," Spy replied. He turned his head to kiss Sniper's ear before offering him a giddy grin.

"Hmph, you better." Scout licked a path from base to tip, taking the head into his mouth slowly. He was taking his time due to his inexperience, but it seemed that Sniper didn't mind with the way his fingers dug into his scalp. Annoyed, Scout pressed a hand into Sniper's hip to keep the Australian from choking him, his grip almost hard enough to bruise.

Engineer caressed the insides of Spy's thighs as he lapped his tongue over Spy's cock. They were short, quick licks that drew heavy pants from the Frenchman above him, curses in different languages greeting his ears.

"Qu-Quite a tease, Ingénieur," Spy mumbled, his tone all over the place between gasps and dips in his accent.

"Just a taste of your own medicine," Engineer replied, his breath fanning out against Spy with every whispered word. Before Spy could protest any more, he took as much of Spy's length as he could, compensating for what he could not with his hand. A broken, surprised cry left Spy's mouth and he thrust as far as he could into that wet heat with both of Engineer's hands restraining him. Engineer took it all in stride, smirking. Oh did it feel good to get the bastard back, even if it was the Spy on his own team...

A muffled groan fought its way out of Engineer's throat and he pulled away, panting. Spy complained from above him, and Engineer gave him a wry smirk. "Not so fast. Don't want your little game over with so soon."

Engineer was about to interrupt Scout, but hesitated when he saw Scout's face, eyes shut tightly with pleasure and mouth full. The Texan swallowed hard before sliding a hand down Scout's shoulder to his back.

Scout's eyes flew open and he leveled an irritated look at Engineer as if to say "Whaddaya want?" Sniper himself protested with a strained moan.

Spy took Sniper's jaw and nipped at his lips. "It is time for the main course, hmm?"

Sniper opened his eyes a crack, his gaze glazed with lust. It took him a few moments to understand what Spy meant and when he did, he gently pried Scout's mouth from his dick and dragged him by the arm to lie beside him.

"Pretty good for your first time, runt," Sniper said, smirking.

Scout huffed. "Guess you ain't picky then."

"Now's not the time for fightin'," Engineer muttered as he hunted around for lube. There were several bottles on the floor earlier, but a few of them were covered by various articles of their clothing. He pushed aside a pinstripe pant leg and retrieved two open bottles, throwing one to Sniper.

When the Texan returned to the bed, Spy had rearranged its occupants so that his back was pressed against Sniper's chest, laying on his side. He beckoned for Engineer to join him, wrapping an arm around his waist and running his fingers over his hips.

"This may seem a bit confusing at first, but trust me, it is worth it," Spy murmured into his neck. He kissed and licked it before settling on nibbling gently.

Engineer let himself be pulled into Spy's chest. He took Scout along with him, pressing his mouth against the runner's shoulder.

"W-Wait, Engie, you're not gonna..." Scout trailed off, his breath hitching as Engineer touched the head of his cock. He bucked into Engineer's hand, allowing his head to fall onto Engineer's chest.

"Mmmyes, I am." Engineer popped open the bottle of lube and slicked up his fingers, stuttering in his actions when he felt two wet fingers slide into his own entrance. He pushed back into them, a low groan falling out of his lips.

"Then get on with it," Scout whispered. His voice was thick with arousal and his eyes were focused on Engineer's fluttering ones, licking his lips absently.

It was becoming difficult to focus with the attention he was receiving from behind. Engineer struggled to keep his eyes open, heavy breaths tumbling from his mouth as he took one of Scout's legs and kept them open. With his lubricated hand, he took his time in pushing a single finger in and paused when one of Spy's fingers curled over an especially sensitive spot.

"Ah, so you were the one on the receiving end," Spy purred into Engineer's ear. He could practically hear that smug smirk in Spy's tone. "You are more than ready for this."

"Well then just give it to me already," Engineer replied, hints of a growl seeping into his tone.

Scout squirmed under Engineer's touch. "How come ya... don't talk like that t'me?"

"You do enough talkin' for the both of us, Scout." Engineer grinned and slipped in another finger, making Scout's eyes bug out in surprise.

"Ugh..." The runner fidgeted as if the small movement would assist him in becoming accustomed to the stretching feeling. "This feels so weird."

"Get..." Engineer's speech was interrupted by his labored breathing. His tone hitched as Spy entered him. "Used to it, boy."

Scout's head rested against Engineer's shoulder, his eyes half-closed. "Fuck. Just-- Just fuckin' fuck me already."

Engineer nodded, biting back a moan. He closed his eyes for a brief moment to press back against Spy, meeting the Frenchman's thrusts. As he applied lube to his cock, Engineer spread his legs further, pulling Scout into the open space.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Engineer still had a hand in Scout, pressing in and stretching him. He knew that the upcoming pain would be something Scout could definitely handle, but he needed to make sure Scout wasn't just saying things because Spy and Sniper were ahead of them.

Scout groaned, his breath breaking into pants. He wiggled back into Engineer's fingers and said, "Yeah, yeah, y'got somethin' real good there--"

Engineer removed his fingers with careful slowness before lining his erection with Scout's entrance. Just as the head pushed past, Spy bit into his shoulder, muffling a loud cry.

"Nngh! Fle-- Sniper!" Spy managed to change the name even as he was in the middle of screaming it.

"Watch it, Spook," Sniper murmured, smiling. He kissed Spy in order to prevent any other mishaps, their lips smashing together between sporadic breaths and moans. It was difficult to keep it up; Spy yelled again and threw his head back against Sniper's chest, alternating between thrusting into Engineer and pushing back against the Australian.

With so many sensations running through him at once, Engineer could not help but speed up his movements, pushing into Scout without so much as a warning. Scout yelped, throwing his arms back to hold on to something, anything, and landing on Engineer's sides. Sniper took one of Scout's hands and tugged him into hearing range.

"C'mon, runt, y'like it rough, don'tcha?" Sniper smirked, though some of the bite was lost amongst the aroused flush coloring his face, "Take it like a man."

Scout scowled back at him and pressed his hips back until Engineer was in up to the hilt. For a moment he went still, retaining his hold on Engineer's side and Sniper's hand, willing himself to adjust. The fullness, the stretching, and the slight discomfort were all very, very foreign, but Scout was really liking the open-mouthed expression on the Texan's face, so he began to wiggle around once more.

With his worry fuzzy due to arousal, all Engineer managed to do was stutter a small apology under his breath and into Scout's ear, reaching around to find his cock. His firm grip drew a sharp gasp from the runner, which trailed off into a mixture of curses and praises.

"Fuck, Engie...!" Scout's breathing took a hold of his power of speech as he inhaled deeply. "Gonna have to... do this faster, goddamn, fuckin' move!"

It didn't take much more to get Engineer to go faster. His control was slipping; all he knew was the tight heat around his cock in front of him and the firm pressure against the sensitive bundle of nerves from behind him. Moans, pants, and unintelligible words tumbled out of his mouth. Closer, closer, he was getting so close, the warmth in his stomach boiling.

"Merde, chéri, plus rapidement...!"

"Engie, oh god, do that again! Fuck! Harder!"

"Bloody h-hell... Nngh, Spy, sh-shit..."

"Ohgodohgodohgod... A-ah, nnngh, Scout..."

The slick sound of skin sliding against skin mingled with their desperate pleas. It was messy and loud with the participants attempting to do everything at once; Sniper drove forward and Spy pushed back, pulling Engineer and Scout with him. The Frenchman bit Engineer again to stifle a moan, hard enough to draw blood. Sniper's hands were restless across Spy's body, rubbing all the familiar and sensitive areas. Scout's hands joined Engineer's on his erection and pumped frantically as he swore and moaned at the same time.

"Sp-Spy, gonna...!" Sniper buried his face into the crook of Spy's shoulder. "Fuck, I'm...!"

Spy tilted his head back so he could press a sloppy kiss to Sniper's jaw. "Mon Dieu, cher, just--! A-Ah, chéri...!"

As Spy was riding out his orgasm, he drove hard into Engineer. His attention was not on the Texan anymore, but the urgent movements were enough to pull Engineer with him. Engineer's hand shook under Scout's fingers and his mouth found the runner's neck in an attempt to quiet the shouts that threatened to climb out of his throat.

As Engineer repeated the runner's profession in a hushed whisper, Scout met every one of Engineer's frenzied thrusts and came as well. He did not try to hold back his cries like Engie did and threw his head back without abandon.

The four of turned to lay on their backs, catching their breath. Scout's hand found Engineer's once more as he snuggled up to his side, tucking his chin into the crook of his shoulder. Spy did the same to Sniper, one of the Australian's hands combing through his hair.

Scout was the first to speak. "Goddamn, that was fuckin' amazin'."

Spy smiled, smug and satisfied. "Did I not tell you it would be?"

Humming in agreement, Engineer felt his eyelids slide closed. He was completely spent; he pulled Scout closer to his body as he settled down.

"Seems like Truckie's gonna be out soon," Sniper said with a smile. He let go of Spy for a second in order to find a blanket, tugging it over the prostrate bodies once he had located it.

"Moi, aussi, chéri." Spy pressed a small kiss to Sniper's lips. "A nap, then we shall assist le docteur with dinner."

With a yawn, Sniper replied, "Sounds like a... plan t'me, mate."

"God, no one cares, ya fags," Scout said, his words muffled against Engineer's neck, "If you're gonna sleep, then fuckin' sleep already."

There were no responses but the sounds of light snoring.


A few hours later Engineer awoke to the sounds of clothing rustling, soon followed by low whispers. Then the door opened and closed and the rustling continued.

He rubbed at his eyes. It had been awhile since he'd felt this warm and satisfied... but the feeling of deja vu didn't sit well with him. The last time he'd done this he ended up empty and these people, his teammates, weren't people he could afford to lose.

When his vision cleared, he saw Sniper leaning against the wall polishing his glasses. "Howdy," Engineer greeted, voice a little hoarse from sleep. He cleared his throat. "How're you?"

"I'm great, actually," Sniper replied, casual as ever, "Just wanted t'see if you'd be alright after alla this." He replaced his glasses on his face and picked up a pile of clothes on a drawer next to him. "Got your clothes here. Wanna chat?"

Engineer sat up, careful not to wake Scout. "Why wouldn't I be alright?" He hoped that his unease wasn't showing this easily.

Sniper shrugged. "Ya didn't seem all that eager when Spy started this. And," he paused to throw Engineer's clothes at him. "Y'ain't denyin' anythin'."

With a quiet huff, Engineer got dressed quickly. "I didn't like the idea of another couple prying into my relationship, no." He adjusted the straps of his overalls. "But... Scout wanted to, and it's not like I--"

When Engineer didn't finish his sentence, Sniper sent him an expectant look over his aviators. "It ain't like ya what?"

"N-Nothing, never mind that." Engineer could feel blood begin to rush to his face and hurried to put on his goggles. "It was good and it's done, there ain't much to say besides that now, is there?"

Sniper touched the brim of his hat and stared at Engineer. It was hard to read the Australian's expression now that Engineer was wearing his goggles and Sniper was wearing sunglasses, but to Engineer's relief, Sniper didn't continue.

"If ya say so. But if ya don't want Spy t'bother ya, just give me a heads up, alright?" Sniper turned to leave, lifting a hand in farewell. "See ya 'round."

When the door clicked shut, Engineer let out a sigh of relief. He removed his goggles and let them sit around his neck before rubbing his eyes. Maybe he was just thinking about this too much. Engineer reached out to touch Scout's cheek, his lips pulling into a frown. Scout resembled a young woman he once knew, someone he had lost in a situation such as this, and the reminder was unsettling.

Scout stirred under Engineer's touch. "Whuzzat..." He blinked a few times before looking at Engineer with bleary eyes. "Hmm... Engie? What time is it...?"

Engineer chuckled, the sound a bit strained. He was trying not to think of his past and, for once, being with Scout didn't help at all. "What an odd question comin' from you, partner." He shrugged. "I dunno. Don't carry a watch with me much and there ain't no clock 'round here. Least, from what I can see."

"Oh." Scout's eyes fell closed again. "Does that mean I can sleep some more?"

When Engineer laughed again, it was a little more sincere. "Naw, Scout, y'need to get up now. Yer gonna mess up yer internal clock if y'sleep any longer."

Engineer left Scout to gather his clothes, handing them to the runner as he sat up. With a yawn, Scout accepted the clothes and dressed at a leisurely pace.

"You okay, Engie?" Scout asked as he pulled his socks on. "Your accent's gettin' a little funky there."

Engineer blanched. "N-No, I'm jus' fine, ah--" He cleared his throat. "I-I mean, there ain't nothin' wrong wit' me-- Gosh darn it." Engineer coughed. "Must be sleep. Maybe we could grab somethin' to eat, something to wash down my throat?"

Scout shot Engineer a crooked grin and stood up. "Yeah, sure. Guess y'need somethin' other than cock in your throat, huh?"

Engineer punched Scout in the shoulder playfully. "Oh, be quiet, you. I ain't gonna make you nothin' if ya continue to talk like that."

Scout ran ahead of Engie and started down the hall. "Well, if ya continue to talk, nothin's gonna get done! Let's go already!"

As Scout raced ahead, Engineer let his small smile drop. Of all the skeletons in his closet, he had hoped to keep this one out of the workplace, out of BLU... But with his current relations with Scout, he supposed it was inevitable.


Engineer ducked back into the base as quickly as he could once the ceasefire bell rang. He'd been hanging around the intel the whole day, but that didn't stop the RED Spy from backstabbing him again and again. He reached around to rub at his back, grimacing.

As he began to pull off his goggles, Engineer heard someone call his name... Or something like it.

"Pyro?" Engineer stopped in the middle of the hallway, glancing at the doorway to his workshop. Darn it, he had been so close to escaping, too.

Pyro hobbled to catch up to Engineer with a hand lifted in greeting. Once he was in arms reach, Pyro removed the filter from his gas mask so he could be heard more easily.

"Hey, man. How're you doing?" Pyro asked, concern hidden in his casual tone.

Engineer's goggles fell to rest at the base of his neck. He tried to smile and hoped that it looked genuine. "I'm just fine, Pyro. How are you?"

Pyro snorted. "Oh, please, Engie, don't pull that on me. How can you say that you're "just fine"? You got floored by that RED Spy even when I was camping with you! Something's up, I know it."

Engineer's hand flexed by his side. Maybe Pyro was bitter about chasing that Spy all day. "Nothin's up, partner. Ev'ryone has a bad day every now an' then."

Although it was hard to tell, Engineer thought that Pyro was giving him a dubious stare. "Scout's right. Your accent does get stronger when you're upset."

"Oh, dagnabit--" That boy was talking about him behind his back? Engineer pulled on his glove in an attempt to vent his angry energy. "Fine. I ain't exactly okay."

"Geez, Engie, no need to be so hostile. I just wanna help, man," Pyro said, holding his hands up defensively, "Don't you trust me?"

The Texan stared at Pyro, frustrated that he couldn't read him at all. But he did trust him, even if it was only because he felt that Pyro could keep a secret. After all, Pyro's identity was something very well hidden from the rest of the team.

"...I do trust you," Engineer replied slowly. Whether or not it was because he was trying to tame his accent or not he wasn't sure. "But I ain't sure that I'm comfortable talking to a mask."

Pyro sighed. "Do you really need to know what I look like to be able to trust me? I think that says something about our teamwork, Engie."

Engineer leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'd appreciate it if you trusted me, as well."

"So if I don't take off my mask, it means that I don't trust you."

"That's th'gist of it." Engineer smiled wryly; maybe he would escape a confrontation after all. He had never seen Pyro without his mask before, what difference did it make now that he wanted to talk? Engineer and Pyro didn't talk much in the first place; Pyro was mostly seen with Scout and Demo, and sometimes Sniper if the Australian felt like putting on a display of fire-bathed arrows.

Pyro tugged at the neck of his suit with one hand, bracing his weight against the wall with the other. "Maybe if you asked nicely I would consider it."

The smile touching the corners of Engineer's lips became a little more sincere. "I ain't the one asking for anything here. You want to talk to me; show me why I should trust you in order to do so."

"So what if I have my mask on? You can trust me in battle with it on, can't you?"

"That ain't the same thing." Engineer rolled his eyes, though he would admit that he was amused by Pyro's persistence, "Firstly, you need that thing in battle. Secondly, you should never compare base interaction to that out on the battlefield-- this is, well, more personal, if anything."

Pyro mirrored Engie's stance and stood against the wall. "I don't think there's anything more personal than entrusting your life to someone else."

A moment of silence passed. Rubbing his eyes, Engineer said, "You're not going to give in, are you."

"Nope!" Pyro replied, his voice chipper and cheeky, "Something I learned from hanging out with your boyfriend: to get things from Engie, you have to keep bugging him 'til he gives up."

If it weren't for Engineer's resigned frustration, he would have flushed at the mention of "boyfriend"; he didn't think he had ever referred to Scout as his "boyfriend".

"C'mon, man," Pyro continued, inclining his head towards the Texan, "If you got something on your mind, something that's affecting you on the battlefield, you gotta tell someone, else it'll get out of hand. And even if you don't trust me, I know you'll end up telling Scout anyway; at least this way you'll be prepared."

With a sigh, Engineer turned to the door to his workshop. Pyro had a point; he had done terribly out on the field today, and the pain in his back was enough to testify to that. Engineer would even admit that he wanted to talk to someone about this, but he wasn't sure if he would be able to tell Scout first, considering the nature of his thoughts.

Engineer opened the door. Rationalizing his reasons for talking to Pyro was a waste of time and effort; he supposed it was just an empty comfort. It was the logical thing to do, to ease his racing thoughts, but that didn't mean that he truly wanted to do this.

Pyro waved a hand in front of Engie's face. "Hey, you in there? You got suddenly quiet. Makes me worry even more, y'know."

Blinking, Engineer ran a hand over his mouth. "I got a lot on my mind."

Pyro chuckled. "I can tell that much. Y'know what--" He walked farther into the workshop, looking around for something. His hand landed on a chair and he brought it to Engineer, motioning towards it. "Have a seat. Just talk when you're ready, alright?"

The chair was a kind gesture. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as Engineer shook his head. He placed a hand on his eyes, pressing gently. Where to begin?

"I've been... frustrated lately." This could be exactly like talking to himself, if he blocked out the quiet and muffled sound of Pyro's breathing in the background. "My mind's not been in th'right place. Thinkin' irrational things... Fearin' irrational things..."

"Like what?" Pyro's voice was soft and unassuming. It was a change; normally that voice sounded a bit crazed, and definitely cheeky.

"Like goin' back t'what I used to be." What he used to do, the shameful things back in school-- "When I was jus' a kid in school. Thought I could do whatever I want as long as I got away with it, that I could do whatever worked. Jus' t'get by. It wasn't right."

"What makes you think that you're reverting back to your old self?"

Engineer was glad that Pyro didn't ask about the details of his past. Pyro was better at talking than he would have thought. "I'm doin' things I used to."

"So why are you doing those things, then? Did something change here?"

"That's what I'm wond'rin'," Engineer replied, his exhaustion creeping into his voice, "I think it was some outside force that changed things, but why'd I allow myself t'let that force do it?"

When Engineer opened his eyes, his hand dropping into his lap, he saw Pyro sitting across from him, his head cupped in his hand. He was listening intently, just watching.

"Y'know," Engineer started, a wry smile on his face, "Yer a lot better at talkin' than I thought you'd be."

Pyro shrugged. "I know how to avoid unnecessary details. Oh, and talking to a teenage boy for so long gives you time to get used to it." When he spoke again, there was a bit of amusement in his tone, "Yeah, I know, mumbles here being good at talking is surprising. Don't need to rub it in."

Engineer chuckled. "S'a pleasant surprise." He sighed and sat up straighter, resting his arms on the back of his chair. "Y'know, the only thing I can think of that changed is th'fact that... me an' Scout got a little closer, if you, ah, know what I mean."

Shaking his head, Pyro laughed. "I know all too well, man. It's not like the whole base didn't hear you guys that one time."

Engineer flushed and covered his mouth with his hand in embarrassment. He spluttered before replying, "The boy's new t'this kinda thing, I-- couldn't really help it."

"Huh. And you're not?" Pyro rubbed his filter thoughtfully. "Maybe it's the fact that you guys are at this stage now. Y'know, you have to get used to it and all that."

"M-Maybe." Engineer frowned. He hoped the new element of, well, sex wouldn't change much in his relationship with Scout. He was surprised it worked out so well in the first place. And it makes sense, all things considered-- "Guess only time will tell, huh?"

"Yep." Pyro stood up and walked over to Engineer's seat. He clapped a hand to the Texan's shoulder and leaned some of his weight on it. "Stop worrying about it so much. If you do screw things up with Scout, I'll know, and I'll tell you. If you screw things up with the others, Scout'll probably know, and he can tell you. Honestly, it can't be that bad, considering it's you, Engie."

Engineer gave Pyro an uncertain look, but nodded anyway. "I-- I guess I can try."

Pyro patted his shoulder again. "Don't sound so sure, man," he said dryly, "But anyway, if it really bugs you that much, just talk to Scout about it. Seeing him might clear things up for you."

Engineer nodded. He watched as Pyro headed towards the door, biting his lip. At the doorway, Pyro stopped and put his hand on the door frame. "Oh, and you're welcome."

"Th-Thanks!" Engineer called from his seat, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He was about to stand up and give a proper thank you, but Pyro was already gone, his amused chuckles echoing down the hall.

150 .

>>43
>>76

I genially present Pet, by Magpie

Chapter 1- Training 

They had never warned him about this when they had shipped him off to the battlefield. 

Granted, they probably didn’t know that this was going on, but that didn’t stop the Red Sniper from blaming the company that had sent him. He had hardly been here a week and the moment he stepped foot in the fort he hated it. The work was fine, and the people seemed nice enough when he first met them. That had quickly changed. 

The daily battles were becoming something close to a personal retreat for him as they were the only time he seemed to have to himself anymore, and today was no different. He watched the battle though his rifle scope from his perch high above the battlefield. It was a large old structure probably used as a part of an electric line or water tower at some point, he wasn’t too sure. It didn’t provide much in the way of protection from the elements, but it was high and hard to get to which was all that mattered. 

Off in the distance, he caught sight of the Red Medic waving on the rest of the team to advance before powering up their Heavy to lead the charge. He could feel the anger and hate he had towards the man seething though his veins and wanted nothing more than to put one of his bullets though the man’s brain. It was an easy shot, all he had to do was pull the trigger and the man would be sent on an unpleasant trip to the respawn room. It would have been an easy shot – if he could stop his hands from shaking. 

The unpleasant memories what happened of when he had previously done it the day after the Medic had first put him though his ‘training’ had been permanently burned into his mind. Moving his hand briefly from the trigger to feel the collar that was fastened around his neck, he closed his eyes and shuddered. This wasn’t supposed to be how things went. He was a professional, god damnit. 

Opening his eyes again, he saw that he still had a line of sight to the Medic as the tell-tale shimmer of the Blue Spy creep up behind him. His hand snapped back to the trigger and fired, putting a bullet into the back of the spook’s head. Hands steady again, he went back to scanning the rest of the field. He had a job to do and he wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of that. 

~~~ 

He cringed at the sound of the ceasefire siren ringing though the air, the voice of the announcer drifting through the speakers to declare victory for the Red team. 

At least this meant that the Medic was going to be in a better mood than he had been the last few nights, but that was little consolation. For a moment he contemplated staying up in his perch for the night, but there was a cold wind blowing in and when he finally did come down things would only be worse.

Slowly, he descended the long ladder and dragged himself into the compound, pausing to look into what served as the team’s kitchen where everyone else had already assembled. He met the Medic’s cold eyes with an angry glare, even when the doctor moved to stand right in front of him. Sniper was a fucking man and he wasn’t going to let this German bastard frighten him. 

“You will wait downstairs,” the Medic ordered in his thick accent, punctuating the statement by pointing downwards in the direction of the infirmary. Sniper didn’t move, he was just as much a part of this team as everyone else in that room and he wasn’t going to go anywhere. When he didn’t comply with the order immediately, the Medic raised his hand and brought it down twice across the Sniper’s face before repeating himself louder and angrier. 

As he turned to slowly walk down the hall, he could hear the rest of the team laughing at him and shouting insults after him. 

His face stung from the blows, and he yelled at himself for just standing there and taking them. He hadn’t even said anything. Granted, the Medic had made a point of training his urge to fight back out of him as soon as he got here, but he should have done <i>something</i> at least. Anything would be better then listening to the German, but he still found himself in the infirmary as he had been ordered. Removing his vest and shirt, he tried to convince himself that it was because he was getting comfortable, but the room was too cold for it to be true. He didn’t want to admit that this was real; that he was afraid of the Medic, and most of all, the things he was expected to do when he was forced to wear that godforsaken leash. 

He hated that leash. 

Setting his sunglasses on top of his clothes, he turned to look at it hanging on its hook as though it were an innocent object. He hated that thing with a passion and how it could make him do things that he would have never even considered otherwise. He wanted so badly to destroy it for destroying his life, but there was nagging fear of what the Medic would do when he found out. The one time he had had the guts to even touch the long strip of leather he had been surprised that his hand had managed to heal from the injuries. Sitting down in the corner furthest from the door, he busied himself with fiddling with his hat while he waited. 

By the time he heard the steady sound of sharp boots clacking down the hallway, he had drifted into a light sleep and was jolted awake by the sound of the door opening. The Medic marched in carrying a plate of food, the smell reminding him just how hungry he was. The doctor didn’t place the food on the floor for him like he had the nights before he instead set it on one of the metal operating tables that were in the room, and the Sniper bit back an angry hiss. 

Lifting the leash from its hook, the Medic turned to examine the man huddled in the corner glaring at the plate as though it had done something to offend him. A thin smile curled on his lips, it appeared he was making progress with the team’s new pet. He had been worried briefly that this one was going to be too willful, but they all broke at one point or another and this one was no exception. 

Holding the leash in one hand, he turned to the Sniper and called him over while pointing to the ground at his feet. There was an angry glare in the Sniper’s eyes as he still stood and walked over to the other man was standing. The Medic made a mental note of this, but he’d worry about discouraging that particular habit later, he had other plans tonight. 

Grabbing the metal ring attached to the collar he ordered the degraded man ‘down,’ but the Sniper stubbornly stood where he was. The doctor frowned, this was unacceptable. Still holding onto the metal ring, he raised the hand that had the leash wrapped around it to cup the side of the Aussie’s face as he repeated the order. This time the Sniper’s mouth curled up in an angry sneer, allowing the Medic to hook his rubber clad thumb just inside his cheek. He repeated the word a third time in a low warning tone, this time when the Sniper didn’t listen and tried to bite the invading finger he pulled the soft muscle. The Sniper clearly hadn’t been expecting this and cried out as the Medic pulled on his face, forcing him to his knees and releasing his grip only so he could swiftly clip the leash onto the collar. 

The sound of the metal clinking together was almost deafening to the Sniper and his stomach dropped. Ashamed, he turned his head to look at the ground as the leash was pulled taunt forcing him to stretch his torso up and he was ordered to look at his tormenter. He was shaking as he forced his head back up, but could only bring himself to look at the top of the Medic’s pristine white collar. The hand was on his face again, this time it pinching the tender skin underneath his chin to forcing him to look the frightening man in the eye. 

“Why must you bring this on yourself?” the doctor asked, twisting the skin in his grip and forcing a pained whine from the Sniper. “You know the more you disobey me the worse this is going to be, right?” he pushed and pulled the skin in his grip so the head would make a nodding motion. Thin streaks of tears were starting to stain the man’s cheeks. “Now... are you going to behave?” he loosened his hold this time so that the Sniper could nod on his own, which he did. 

“Good,” the Medic cooed, finally releasing his grip completely, “on the floor.” The Sniper didn’t hesitate this time and as soon as the leash slackened he dropped onto the floor so he was resting on his hands and knees. 

The Medic raised his boot to nudge it against the side of his face, this was a gesture that he already knew, and he followed it with his face as the boot descended back to the ground. He nudged it at first with his nose before beginning to bathe the thick leather with his tongue. He treated both boots in this manner, even wrapping his arms around them in what could have been easily mistaken for an adoring gesture, as the Medic muttered little encouragements. 

There was a gentle pull on the leash prompting him to stop what he was doing and turn his attention back to the man on the other end of the leash. While his attention had been on the other man’s feet, the doctor had picked up a small piece of meat from the plate and was holding it out; offering it to the starving man. Instinctively, the Sniper shot his hand out to take the food only to find that it was whisked out of reach before he could grip it. 

The Medic was frowning again which was never a good sign, so when it was offered again, he moved slower this time moving to take it with mouth instead of his hand. This time he was allowed to take the food and, once it was in his mouth, he devoured it quickly. The Medic was smiling again, which was good and even held out another treat for the Sniper, which he darted for. He was stopped however, by a sharp tug on the leash and a loud ‘no’ from the Medic. 

Scared he had done something wrong, he looked up at the man and was slightly relieved when he saw that there was no obvious disapproval in his expression. Instead, there was the order for him to ‘wait’ as the meat was placed right in front of his face to torment him. After what felt like hours, he was finally given the command to ‘take’ and he immediately snapped the treat. This series of commands was repeated a few more times before the Medic picked up the plate and led the Sniper to his desk. 

Resting the plate on the side of his desk, he sat down in his chair and hooked the handle of the leash over the armrest, motioning for the Sniper to come closer. He used the ring on the collar to direct the man to sit between his legs before moving the plate of food from the top of his desk onto the floor, telling him to wait as it passed close to his face. Once it was on the floor however, the man attacked the food and the Medic didn’t stop him. 

Smiling, the Medic cooed short endearing phrases as he ran his hand over the man’s hair briefly before removing his gloves and turning his attention to a pile of notes on his desk. Flipping through to the page where the notes stopped, he picked up his pen to continue. 

He could feel the Sniper between his legs finish his meal and even give long appreciative licks over his boots without any prompting before curling up under the desk. He was making a lot of progress with their new pet.

151 .

Pet by Magpie


Chapter 2- Socializing 

The Sniper woke up the next morning in the small pile of blankets and pillows the Medic had laid out for him in the corner of the doctor’s room. Pulling the blanket over his head, he tried to block out the obnoxious beeping of the alarm clock, and was incredibly grateful when its owner reached over to shut it off. He heard the other man get up and turn on the bedroom light, prompting him to hide even further in his blanket. 

He didn’t stir again until he was prodded with a gentle poke from the doctor’s foot, and he begrudgingly peeked out from under the cover squinting in the bright light. His pants had been placed on the floor in front of him and the Medic was in the process of collecting a pile of clean clothes for the both of them. 

He stretched sluggishly, kicking his blanket to the side and pulling his pants on before dragging himself to his knees for the Medic to clip on his leash. Yawning loudly, he scratched at an itch underneath his collar – it was too early to fight back. 

He followed behind the Medic to the showers, he could hear a few of their other teammates still snoring away, taking advantage of the two-day cease fire to sleep in. He was grateful that the Medic kept such a strict schedule because it at least meant that he wouldn’t have an audience for his humiliation. 

Once in the shower room, he didn’t wait to be told to strip, throwing his pants and underwear in a pile on the floor. He left the collar untouched. The Sniper waited patiently as the Medic removed his own clothing, and gathered a single towel which he draped over his arm. He was led into the shower areas where the leash was removed and he was directed to the shower in back corner of the room. He complied without question. 

The dread of having to cope without his usual escape was leaching his resolve so, instead, he told himself he was going try to get though the following days by simply behaving. It was what the Medic wanted, after all. 

The noise of the shower drowned out any other sounds in the room and, for the moment, he drifted off in his own head. While it lasted, he was back home listening to his dad yell at him over the phone, his mom’s voice just recognizable in the background. Looking back on it now, he should have listened to his parents, but he hadn’t; now he was at the mercy of his decision. 

The shower knob squeaked as he shut it off, wrenching him back to the harsh reality of his current situation. Glancing over at the Medic, he saw that the German was still washing and he quickly adverted his gaze. It was one thing to be in a shower room with other men casually, but it was something else entirely when the only other man in the room was responsible for making his life a living hell. 

His stomach tightened in a sickening way as he stood there waiting, wet and cold. He should have listened to his parents. 

Finally, the sound of running water stopped, and the Medic moved to retrieve his hanging towel to dry himself off before handing it to the Sniper following on his heels and staring at the ground. It wouldn’t be very good for if he allowed the sharpshooter to get sick. It was quite entertaining however, how the degraded man avoided looking at him. 

Picking up the leash, the Medic smiled. It appeared that this would be a good time to test how well the Sniper was taking to his training. Watching the other man carefully, he instructed him to throw the used towel in with the rest of the laundry. He watched the Sniper’s movement’s as he shuffled back into the locker room, adding the towel to his small pile of clothing before sitting down on the tiled floor when the Medic barked the command. 

The Medic carefully hid his excitement at this as he made his way to the lockers. He recalled that only a few days ago the Sniper had attempted to sit on the thin bench. There were so many other things the doctor would love to start drilling into the Sniper, but it would, unfortunately, have to wait. They were receiving a shipment from Red today and he would have to be there to ensure that everything went smoothly. Playing with the Sniper would just have to wait. 

The Medic dressed with the same military precision he did everything with before removing a clean uniform for the Sniper to dress in. The doctor took a great interest in the other man’s appearance, adjusting his shirt collar and smoothing down his hair. It was one of the Medic’s habits – his belongings always had to look their best. 

Tucking the leash into a pocket he could reach easily if he had to use it, the Medic led the way from the showers to the kitchen. The trip, however, was not a pleasant one as they were spotted by their Scout, who was already in the mood to cause trouble. 

The Medic did his best to come between him and the boy, but the youth’s determination won out in the end. The Scout stared up at the Sniper, there was a stiff frown on the Aussie’s face that amused the boy and he was determined to get a rise out of the taller man. 

The Scout raised his hand, holding it poised in front of the Sniper’s forehead before flicking the man and accenting it with a mocking ‘boink.’ The Sniper’s hands clenched into fists and would have hit the boy, but a sharp command stopped him. Instead he dug his nails into the palms of his hands as he quaked with unreleased anger, embarrassment, and self-loathing. 

The boy found this new development quite hilarious, and continued poking and prodding the Sniper in hopes of getting a reaction out of him. Soon enough, the Sniper had finally had enough, and threw out his earlier resolve to quietly obey orders. He reached out to grab the collar of the Scout’s shirt, raising his fist to give him the blow he so well deserved. 

The Medic moved quicker than the Sniper had anticipated. Before he could propel his fist into the boy’s face, it was in the doctor’s iron grip, and a blanket of pain fell over him as the doctor struck a cluster of nerves at the base of his neck with his free hand. Through the fog of pain, he was all too aware of the leash being clipped onto his collar again, and of the Scout’s mocking laughter. 

For what it was worth, the Scout had his own punishment to face as the Medic’s hand caught the boy’s ear while he was distracted by laughing at the Sniper’s pain. There was a low warning uttered into the boy’s ear before he was released and sent running down the hall. He paused when he was out of harm’s reach to turn around and to give the pair the middle finger before bolting off again. 

The Medic sighed at the juvenile gesture, and led the Sniper into the kitchen, which was a hub of activity as the most of the Red team were busy getting ready for breakfast. The Medic swore quietly when he saw that the Spy had once again traded cooking duty with the Engineer and was busy at the stove with almost every pot in the base strewn over its surface. He could only pray that the Frenchman hadn’t used an entire slab of butter in his cooking. 

As soon as the Medic had taken his seat, the Sniper darted under the table to sit at his feet. The Engineer, who was already in the chair beside the doctor, laughed, declaring it ‘just the cutest darn thing’ while reaching down to try to ruffle the man’s hair. The Sniper glared at the Texan from over the Medic’s knee, he was not cute. 

Breakfast was a noisy affair, and there was a long argument on the over use of ketchup between the Spy, Scout, and Soldier. The Sniper, however, was more preoccupied with making himself as small as possible in the hopes of avoiding too much attention. It worked for the most part, though the Scout and Pyro seemed to make it their personal mission to make him as miserable as possible. The Medic put a quick end to this with a sincere promise to make the trouble makers’ next visit to his operating table as painful as possible. 

After putting the pair in their place, the doctor turned his attention back to the distraught Sniper. Holding the man’s face in his gloved hands, he gently stroked it, breathing gentle shushing sounds until the Sniper calmed down. 

The irony of just how much the gesture comforted the Sniper didn’t escape him. He even caught himself closing his eyes to lean into the stroking hands, flicking out his tongue to give a small lick across a gloved palm. It was quick, he didn’t want anyone else knowing what he had done, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the doctor. 

As soon as the hands retreated, his breakfast was set on the floor for him, and the Sniper almost smiled to himself. The Medic had obviously scraped away a good portion of the heavy sauce that had been liberally poured over the food. It was a small gesture, but somewhere in the Sniper’s mind it translated to a gesture of genuine concern. 

The idea that listening to the Medic was worth the humiliation he was put through, if it meant that he would be taken care of, was starting to form in his mind. However, there was still a small nagging part that told him that this was still the same Medic that would mercilessly beat him for the slightest act of defiance. 

That part of his mind was much quieter than it used to be. 

After the meal there was a brief dispute over who was going to clean the dishes as Spy tried to pawn the duty off on the Scout as he usually did. Medic couldn’t be bothered getting involved in the argument, the trucks would be arriving soon. As much as he would have liked to take the Sniper with him as he preformed his duties, he simply couldn’t allow the Red employees who drove in the supplies to see him. It would get people talking and, eventually, word would get to someone important enough, and then his little project and employment would be in jeopardy. 

So, instead, he decided he would leave him with the one member of the team he knew he could trust not to take advantage of the Sniper – their Engineer. He could have just left him in his own room with orders to wait, but it wouldn’t be very productive to his ends. Especially since their last Sniper, who had been particularly reclusive, killed himself one night when the Medic had left him alone. It was such a nuisance that the respawn system was only turned on during their daily battles. It created so much more work for him. 

As the Medic passed the leash to the Engineer, the Sniper only moved closer to the doctor making it very obvious that he didn’t want to be left with the Texan. The Medic did his best to comfort him, but it didn’t seem that there was much that would make the Sniper more at ease with the situation. Telling the Sniper that he would be back soon and to listen to the Engineer, he left. 

As soon as the Medic was gone, the Sniper shot a defiant glare at the other man holding his leash, dragging his feet as he was led to his workshop, and immediately hid under the drafting table. The Engineer occasionally attempted to coax him out with a few treats he had smuggled into the base, but the stubborn man would only emerge far enough to take the sweet before retreating underneath the table again. 

~~~ 

After the trucks had been unloaded, the Medic made his way to the Engineer’s workshop, following behind their Heavy who was carrying a pile of boxes marked with a red wrench. Entering the room, he could see the Sniper peek out from the table he was hiding under before retreating back into his corner. 

This behaviour wasn’t entirely unexpected, and the Medic had dealt with it enough with the other Snipers he had trained. It meant that the man was feeling abandoned and it was hiding in an attempt to comfort himself; it was a very common behaviour. 

The Heavy lumbered out of the room to continue distributing the crates of supplies. The Medic knew he would have to be patient to get the Sniper out of hiding, so he struck up a casual conversation with the Engineer who was investigating the contents of the boxes. He stood just far enough away from the table so that if the Sniper were to approach him, he would have to leave the cover that it provided. He didn’t have to stand there for long, and thankfully didn’t have to say very much. Given the chance, their Engineer would talk the ears off anyone who dared to listen. 

A little while into the conversation, the Sniper had cautiously crawled to the edge of the table closest to the Medic and was watching the doctor intensely. When he didn’t move from the spot for a while, the doctor curled his hand in a beckoning motion to coax him to his side. 

The Sniper moved out from under the table slowly before settling into his usual spot at the Medic’s feet, and when a gloved hand ran over his face, the Sniper leaned heavily into the touch. The other hand reached down to gather up the leash that was dragging on the floor. Smiling, the doctor interrupted the Engineer to come over. 

For a moment the chatty man was silent, the parts of his face that were visible around the hard hat and goggles formed a curious expression. Still, he approached the pair. The Texan greatly admired the Medic for the amount of work that he put into training the team pets, and he could always appreciate something that required hours of careful and delicate work. 

He was informed to hold out his hand to the Sniper, and he offered the one that wasn’t covered by his dirty work glove. The Sniper glared angrily at the appendage, but the Engineer didn’t hold it against him. The anger quickly melted away into something completely different the Texan couldn’t quite place when the Medic ordered the Sniper to lick the offered hand. 

The Medic raised his hand in warning when the Sniper didn’t immediately obey and the Engineer felt a little sorry for the man when he saw him flinch, but the Medic knew best. The order didn’t need repeating as the Sniper leaned forward to run his tongue over the offered palm. The sensation of the soft wet muscle running over his calloused hand caused a furious blush to spread over the Texan’s face. 

Satisfied with the results and figuring that he had wasted enough time today, the Medic gave a light tug at the Sniper’s leash to bring him back to his side. Excusing himself from the Engineer’s work space, he headed back down to his infirmary; he still had to unpack the boxes that had been sent for him. 

Dinner that night was a much quieter affair, the Sniper was even allowed a bit of freedom under the table as a few of the team mates deliberately dropped bits of food on the floor. The Scout ended up dropping the most, as he dumped all of his vegetables for the Sniper just so he could avoid eating them. Whatever the reason, the Sniper was simply glad to be going to bed that night with a full stomach.

152 .

Pet by Magpie


Chapter 3- A Friend 

The Blue Spy couldn’t wait for the beginning of the week to extract his revenge against the Red Sniper. But now that he was half-way up the ladder to where his target was, he was having second thoughts about his plan. A strong wind whipped past and he pressed himself further into the metal bars he was desperately clinging to. 

The last Red Sniper had at least had the decency to hole up in the old buildings near the battlefield, though the Spy had learned to avoid him after a while all the same. After he had killed the man several times in a single day without the man fighting back, he had started to feel like he was doing the man a favour. Secretly, he hoped that this one would follow the same pattern just so he could avoid having to drag himself up to the man’s perch ever again. 

A few steps from the top, he activated his cloak and pulled himself silently onto the platform. His steps were carefully calculated as he crept up behind the unaware Sniper. The familiar weight of his knife comforted the Spy as he flipped it open, and cut through the Sniper in a well practiced pattern. 

He watched the lifeless body slump over the railing before it was collected by the respawn system and smiled with a sense of smug satisfaction. Backing into the center of the platform, he dismissed his cloak and pulled out a cigarette. Since he was already up there, he may as well wait for the Sniper to return. He may as well kill him again too; for making him climb all the way up here. Not at all because he wanted to put off having to descend the ladder. 

By his third consecutive trip to the respawn room, the Red Sniper was pissed. Not only had the enemy Spy invaded the very personal space of his sniping platform, but he had started to take pot shots at him while he was climbing the ladder. Storming out of the fort, already pressing his rifle into his shoulder, he lifted it to get a better view of the platform. 

The bastard was still there, smoking that obnoxious little cigarette of his and the idiot wasn’t even bothering to stay out of sight. The expression Frenchman made when he put a pair of bullets into his tobacco ridden lungs was priceless. Throwing his gun onto his back, he hurried back to his perch, if he was lucky the Spy would still be alive when he got there. 

~~~ 

In the days after the initial conflict, their little dispute had grown into an all out feud. 

Currently, the Blue Spy was cloaked outside of the Red respawn room. He knew the Red Sniper would be coming out the door soon, and he was ready to send him straight back. Settling into the path that he knew the Sniper would take to go back, he grinned as he heard the miraculous system brought his target back to life. 

The machine hummed longer than usual as another member of the Red team was brought back alongside the Sniper. The Spy didn’t care, from what he could tell the rest of the Red team ignored their snipers, which helped him. 

When the doors to the room didn’t open right away like it usually did, he carefully crept closer. There was an angry voice filtered out from behind it, but the thick metal of the door made it impossible to make out the words. The machine hummed again and the door opened as the Red Scout ran back out to the battlefield, allowing the Blue Spy a glimpse inside the room. 

His eyes widened as brain processed the scene. The Red Medic was standing over a cowering Sniper, scolding him for his latest failure in the field. The door began to slide down, and the Spy bent over as it descended, watching as the Medic raised his boot to kick the terrified man. 

Leaning against the wall, he tried to process the information he had just witnessed. It suddenly made sense as to why the Reds seemed to go through so many more Snipers than the Blue team. It also explained why the last Sniper had lost interest in preserving his own life. 

The Spy jumped as the door slid open again, and the Medic dragged the beaten man out by the collar of his shirt. He gave a final warning to the Sniper about neglecting his responsibilities to the team before storming off back to the battlefront. The Sniper collected himself a little too quickly for the Blue’s taste, as he adjusted his uniform and headed back to his perch. 

Quietly tucking his knife away, he followed the Sniper. It suddenly felt incredibly inappropriate to kill the Sniper after what he had just witnessed. His own Medic was always drilling the idea of team unity into them, and would often go out of his way to mediate arguments between teammates. The Spy blamed him for the fact that he couldn’t ignore what he had just seen. 

Stopping at the base of the ladder, he watched as the Sniper scaled it with ease, wondering if he should continue up the ladder. He tried telling himself that he shouldn’t involve himself with the affairs of the Red team and that there was nothing he could do about it. But – Red or not – no one should have to fear their own teammates. 

He spent the entire trip up the ladder silently cursing himself for caring about the enemy. 

He found himself back on the platform, cloaked, and just staring at the Sniper’s back. After they had gone out of their way to kill each other, he had no idea of how to convince the other man that he wasn’t there to do just that. So the Spy just stood there for a while, watching as the Sniper fired off a few rounds at the rest of the Blues on the ground, looking as though nothing had happened. It was a bit unnerving. 

He approached the sharpshooter slowly, and brushed his hand cautiously over his shoulder. He really shouldn’t have been surprised at the Sniper’s reaction to the touch, but he had forgotten that he wasn’t aware that he had seen the event in respawn. 

The only thought the Spy had as he plummeted towards the ground and his impending death, was that the encounter could have gone better. 

~~~ 

After almost a week of trying to convince the Red Sniper of his good intentions, the Blue Spy was finally giving up. Storming out of the respawn room, he found the first person dressed in red that he could and emptied an all six shots from his Ambassador into them, before returning to his usual duties. He was done with this little charity project. If the abused man wanted help, he could find it himself. 

The Sniper, in the meantime, was enjoying sharing his suffering with someone else. Though he was curious as to why the Blue had decided to change his tactics. Normally taking on the appearances of the enemy worked well in lulling a target into a false sense of security, but the Blue Spy had missed a very important detail. None of the other Reds ever came to visit him, and none of them ever talked with him. They would often talk at him, but it was far from the conversations they would have with each other. 

He even had the nerve to show up once disguised as his Medic, but the Sniper quickly saw through the disguise. The real Red Medic never hesitated. Looking back, maybe he had been particularly cruel in some of the ways that he had killed the Spy and sometimes he regretted it afterwards. There was something though, about the look the Frenchman would give him just before he died that got under his skin worse than the degrading names he was called by his teammates. 

It was pity, and the Sniper hated that he was on the receiving end of it. 

The first day that the Blue didn’t show up in his perch the Sniper was grateful for the change. He still kept an eye out for the distinctive shimmer, a duplicate Red wandering where they shouldn’t, or any sentries showing signs of sabotage. By the third day, he figured that the Blue had given up on whatever scheme he had, and he relaxed at the thought that his retreat was safe again. 

After the following weekend, though he felt like he desperately needed to cut someone open and hang them from his perch’s railing by their guts. The Medic had taken great pride in parading him around the base naked lately, which hadn’t been too bad – the worst was some new verbal jabs, which he could handle. After the regular weekend duties though, the doctor made it very clear to him what his real purpose to the team was. 

The more he dwelled on the memories, the more real the phantom feeling of the slick rubber fingers pressing into him became, and the more he wanted to make someone else suffer. He searched the field for the Blue Spy, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Instead, he settled for a shot at the Blue Medic, and his trigger finger jumped at the chance to riddle him with bullets. 

The first shot ripped though the Medic’s thigh, sending him crumpling to the ground, the one that followed immediately after made certain that he was unable to operate his precious Medigun. He frowned as the third shot was intercepted by the Blue Heavy as he moved to protect their doctor. He was disposed of with a quick shot though the skull and, once the body dissolved into the respawn, the Sniper to resumed taking shots at the defenceless doctor. 

By the time he was done he had put three more bullets into his helpless target, though none of them were fatal. Having released some of his frustrations, he left the Blue to bleed to death as he sighted out another victim. He gradually slipped back into his usual killing patter as the day wore on, but it felt like something was missing from his day. 

The relief that he used to feel when he was watching the battle below him had become a heavy blanket of loneliness. Even when he caught the enemy Spy in his sights, he found that he was passing up the opportunity to take the shot. Killing him just wasn’t as interesting as it once was. He took a half hearted shot as he caught the Spook attempting to sap a sentry, but the bullet burying itself harmlessly in the ground with a puff of dust. 

The Blue Spy quickly ducked behind a nearby corner to avoid any additional shots. It was painfully obvious that the Sniper had missed the shot on purpose, it was like the man didn’t care anymore. Normally, he would have to be on a constant lookout for the flickering red dot that indicated that he was about to die, but lately it would just hover over him briefly before disappearing. The sudden change of behaviour in the Sniper nagged at the part of his mind that had wanted to help him, and the mocking shots were making him very jumpy. 

Despite reminding himself that he no longer cared what happened to the Sniper, he still found himself cloaked and standing on the platform. He stayed that way for a while just watching, trying to identify which of his teammates the man was picking off. Moving out of reach of the man’s broad knife, he turned off the cloak. 

The Sniper’s reflexes reacted instantly at the sound, his hand snapping out for his kukri, only to find the barrel of the Spy’s own gun levelled at his head. Lowering his weapon first, he waited for the Spy to pull the trigger. 

“What do you want?” He asked, mumbling. The Blue examined the other man’s expression for a moment longer, before slipping his gun back into its holster, and producing his cigarette case. 

“Can you blame me for wanting a smoke break?” The Spy gave a limp wave as though he were dismissing the question, as he removed one of the slender sticks from the case and rested it loosely between his lips. 

“Funny place to have a break.” The Sniper narrowed his eyes at the enemy, who just shrugged and lit the cigarette before tucking the metal case away. 

“I’ve been trying to cut back.” He took a long drag and breathed out the smoke with a satisfied sigh. He finished the cigarette quickly and in silence, under the scrutinizing glare of the Sniper. He crushed out the last few remaining embers on a metal beam, before casually descending the ladder to rejoin the battle. 

Once he planted his feet back on solid ground, the Spy breathed a sigh of relief. Cloaking, he set about his regular duties again with as sense of accomplishment. Maybe the Red Sniper wasn’t a lost cause yet.

153 .

Pet by Magpie


Chapter 4- Control 

The weekend descended far too quickly for the Sniper’s liking. 

He had finally found one person out of a total of seventeen other men that participated in the pointless battle who wouldn’t kill him on sight and treated him like a fellow human being. It had felt a little funny at first, the fact that he had managed to find a friend in someone who was supposed to be his enemy, but he didn’t have much love for his own side. 

The Sniper didn’t bother questioning the Blue Spy about his actions after the first time and, quite frankly, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Even if all the French man did was complain about his own teammates while he enjoyed his cigarette, the Sniper was just happy for the company. He was also starting to grow fond of the way that the French man sounded when he spoke. The soft, slurred sound of his accent was a pleasant change from the hard consonants of German that he was used to hearing. 

As usual, he found himself in the Engineer’s care while the Medic oversaw the regularly scheduled shipment. The Texan seemed to ignore him more during these little visits as he became more obedient. As a result, the little kind gestures and offers of treats gradually lessened until they stopped altogether. The Sniper found himself anxiously waiting for the Medic’s return. 

Almost as if on cue, the Heavy squeezed though the entrance with a stack of boxes, followed by the doctor who smiled as the Sniper moved to his side immediately, pressing his cheek against the back of a gloved hand. At least he knew that the Medic wouldn’t lose interest in him. He heard the Heavy laugh, the Russian’s giant hand mussing up his hair as he expressed how funny the little man was. 

The Medic chuckled quietly with the large man, turning his hand over so he could stroke the Sniper’s face. He wasn’t laughing because he found anything particularly funny, but because he was enjoying the absolute surrender of the man at his feet. He enjoyed that he could make a small gesture and the Sniper would do any manner of degrading acts simply because he wanted it. 

It was the sense of complete control that he had over the other man that thrilled the Medic; the fact that the rest of the team got some satisfaction thanks to his work was simply a secondary achievement. 

Turning sharply on his heel, the Medic followed the Heavy out of the room again. Behind him he could hear the Sniper scramble to his feet to follow, and he had to fake a small cough in an attempt to cover his smile. 

The rest of the day went by as usual. The rest of the team was taking comfort in their own routines, and none of them had any desire to deviate from them. The Medic, however, had other plans, routines did provide much needed structure. They also unfortunately, had a habit of becoming old, boring and predictable. He had decided that the Sniper was getting too comfortable with the current pattern of his training and that simply wasn’t acceptable. The Medic was going to throw a wrench his pet’s routine and he was going to enjoy every minute of it. 

He spent most of the day maintaining the illusion of normalcy. It wasn’t until after dinner when he led the Sniper down to the infirmary where he watched the other man strip, folding his clothes in a neat little pile before anxiously awaiting the usual chain of commands. There was a satisfying glimpse of nervousness in his eyes as the doctor wrapped the leash around his hand, neatly coiling it before slipping it into his pocket. 

The leash was being used less as time passed, and the Medic no longer thought it was necessary for the more common conditioning. Tonight, however, he would most likely need the extra bit of convincing that it provided. 

There was a brief glimpse of hope in the Sniper’s eyes as he followed the doctor out of the cold room. Perhaps tonight he wouldn’t have go through the regular treatment that he had to endure, but the presence of the leather strip in the Medic’s pocket suggested something much worse. 

He was led back up to the area of the base where the team’s private rooms lined the halls. Presumably there was one in the hall for him, but seeing that the Sniper shared the Medic’s room it was probably used as extra storage space. 

The doctor stopped at one of the doors, raising his fist to knock on it and causing whoever was inside to shuffle around to open it. The Heavy opened the door a crack, before opening it the rest of the way, inviting the Medic in. The doctor could tell that his pet was hesitating to enter the strange room – a small curl of his finger cured that little problem. 

The room was laid out the same as Medic’s, though there was a make-shift table of crates where the man’s mini-gun was lovingly laid out. Stray bits of ammunition were scattered in small clusters over the floor, kicked about to the areas that were less traveled. 

The Sniper tried to shrink away from the Heavy’s large hand that caressed him, but there wasn’t much space in the small room for him to disappear into. There was a small, comforting noise from the Medic that really didn’t make him feel much better at all, especially when he produced a familiar little bottle from one of his pockets. As the Medic curled his fingers into the metal ring on the Sniper’s collar, he could feel a cold dread rise in him. 

The Heavy shut the door, the quiet click echoing in the small room, and shuffled over to sit on the edge of the bed. There was a soft clink as the leash was connected to the metal ring and, for a brief moment, the Sniper looked pleadingly at the doctor before turning his gaze to the ground. The Medic’s face was set in a slowly cracking mask that covered his expression of pure sadistic glee. The doctor couldn’t help but curl the corners of his mouth higher as he watched the man in front of him tense as he ran a slicked finger along the cleft of his ass. 

The Medic’s free hand wrapped itself in the leash before gripping onto the Sniper’s chin to tilt his head to look at the Heavy, forcing him to acknowledge that they weren’t in the privacy of the infirmary. The low, drawn out whine that came from him as the fingers slowly invaded his body sent a shiver down the doctor’s spine. 

When the Heavy reached out to touch the Sniper, he pressed back into the Medic to avoid it, and the doctor took the opportunity to assault his prostate which earned a cry that was a delightful combination of panic and pleasure from the Sniper. Uncoiling the leash from his hand, the Medic held the end out to the Russian, letting the end loop over the large man’s hanging hand. Removing his fingers, the doctor stepped away from the Sniper to watch the expression of fear spread over his face as he tried to back away as far as the leash would allow him to. 

The Medic had to turn his back to the other two men, producing a cloth from his pocket to methodically clean his glove, taking long, deep breaths to try to calm his own racing heart. He could hear the Heavy undoing his belt in order to rid himself of his pants. Deciding his glove was as clean as it would get, he set the used cloth beside the mini-gun, brushing his hand lightly over the Russian’s beloved possession. Even if the Heavy had noticed, he wouldn’t dare challenge the Medic – no one dared to challenge the Medic. 

It wasn’t just the Sniper that the Medic had eating out of his hand; the entire Red team was nothing more than his personal toys. Of course, some listened more readily than others but, in the end, none of them ever questioned his authority. 

Taking his place behind the Sniper again, the Medic reminded the petrified man of how he was expected to serve his team. He produced a third item from his pockets, passing it over the Sniper’s shoulder and deliberately flashing the small square wrapper before pressing it into the Heavy’s hand. 

The Russian delicately tore open the offered package and, once he had rolled the condom over his erection, he gave a light pull on the leash. A gentle push from the Medic accompanied the pull and the Sniper stiffly climbed onto the large man’s lap. 

The Medic leaned against the wall as he watched the Sniper lower himself onto the Heavy. The doctor laced his fingers together, flexing and curling them as the room was filled with a symphony of pleasured and pained moans. The effort it took to maintain the illusion of being a passive observer was growing as the scene continued. When the Heavy easily flipped the man on top of him onto his back, the first deep syllable of a laugh escaped from the Medic. 

Given the tone of the cries coming from the Sniper, the Medic would have to use his Medigun on him before continuing any other activities later. He would also have to scold the Heavy later for being so rough. 

The Russian gave a loud groan as he climaxed, giving a few extra thrusts into the Sniper before pulling out and peeling off the wad of latex to dispose of it. The Medic gathered up the forgotten end of the leash and gave it a pull, coaxing the man to drag himself to his feet with his legs shaking in protest. 

The doctor couldn’t be bothered to stay longer than necessary to listen to the Heavy’s after-sex banter. He led the Sniper back to the infirmary at a slower pace and even paused occasionally to let him rest. Once they were back in the privacy of the Medic’s workspace, he retrieved the Medigun from its resting spot and trained the gentle red beam on Sniper briefly. He watched as the man relaxed considerably under the soft glow. 

Removing his gloves, the Medic laid them beside the sink before twisting the water on to warm as he rolled his sleeves up. He called the Sniper over as he soaked a clean cloth under the faucet and he methodically set about washing away the sweat, blood, and lube. 

Once the Sniper was clean, the Medic took him back to his own room, locking him inside as he disappeared back down into the infirmary for some private time of his own. 

Alone in the dark room, the Sniper immediately went for the comfort of his makeshift bed. He pulled a thin pillow from the bottom of the pile, tore off the pillow case and ripped open the zipper that kept the stuffing in before digging around inside the cotton filling. He relaxed when his hand closed around a cold metal object. 

Removing the item from its hiding spot, he caressed the folded knife, finding the latch that held it shut and clicking it to let it fall open in his hand. He had stolen the blade from the Blue Spy back when he had been the primary release for the Sniper’s frustrations. 

He didn’t know at the time what he intended to do with the knife, perhaps he had hoped that when the Medic was asleep he could use it to rid himself of his tormenter once and for all. But that would still leave him at the mercy of the rest of the Reds. There was also the fear that if he did try that the Medic would still be awake and he didn’t want to think about what that would lead to. 

He considered at one point digging the edge into his own skin, but the cuts would have tipped the Medic off to the knife’s presence and he didn’t want to risk losing his treasure. 

He ran his thumb over the smooth, flat surface of the blade, feeling the texture of the metal as it warmed slowly under his touch. His mind wandered to the man that he had stolen the knife from and he breathed a heavy sigh. He stuffed the pillow back into its cover, leaving the zippered side easily accessible. 

Folding the knife closed again, he locked the small latch, and curled up under his blankets clutching the knife close to him as he escaped into a dreamless sleep.

154 .

Pet by Magpie- sadly the last installment I saw


Chapter 3.5- Breaking 

The Sniper lay naked, half on one of the many beds in the infirmary. Behind him, the Medic snapped on a clean pair of gloves and in front of him sat the leash, neatly stretched out. His mind was in a haze, a lingering effect of the doctor’s latest treatment – the Medic had deliberately left him unsatisfied again. The Sniper knew that keeping his hands tightly clenched in front of him was the best way to please the doctor. 

As the Medic wiped away the residual lubrication, the Sniper made a small pleading noise, pressing back against the cloth trying to get as much sensation from the touches as he could. He should have been more embarrassed at his actions, but he decided that he had done worse. A hand pressing against his back and a gentle command stopped his movements. 

Too soon, the cloth was removed and he was left feeling stretched, empty, and there was now a cold chill traveling up his spine. 

Peeling himself off of the bed when the Medic beckoned him to follow, the Sniper settled at his usual place by the doctor’s feet, trying to forget that he was still very aroused. Perhaps while the Medic was busy with paperwork, he would be able to quickly jerk himself off without being noticed. He watched the doctor intently as he shuffled through his papers. 

The Medic, however, had no plans for starting his work just yet. He was looking over a folder for a very specific piece of information. As well as the Sniper was behaving lately, there was still one last matter that he had to attend to. 

Finding the line of numbers he was looking for, he picked up the phone and began to dial out. 

The Sniper nearly jumped with anticipation at the sound of the phone, it was perfect. His hands drifted over the black boots he worshipped, waiting anxiously to hear the start of the conversation before putting his plan into action. 

What he wasn’t expecting, was the receiver to be pressed against the side of his face. 

The Sniper froze, for a moment he forgot how the phone worked until a sharp trill from the speaker wrenched him from his daze. With some gentle coaxing from the Medic, he finally took a hold of the receiver himself. Pressing it into the side of his face, he tried to list all the people that he’d be allowed to talk to. 

Waiting and listening to each piercing ring added to the knot growing in the Sniper’s stomach, the colour slowly drained from his face. 

The pattern was broken when a click echoed through the phone, and whatever followed it, the Sniper couldn’t make out because he yanked the receiver away from his ear for the sake of his hearing. The yelling coming through the line expressing just how much the owner of the other phone enjoyed being woken in the middle of the night. Eventually, there was a long enough pause where he cautiously touched the phone back to his ear, and choked out a strained ‘hi dad.’ 

After that, the yelling started again. 

He couldn’t be bothered arguing with the old man, he’d simply didn’t have the energy to. For just once in his life, though, he wished that his father would tell him that he wasn’t a waste of space. 

He listened in on an argument on the other end, and soon his mom’s voice was filtering though the phone, at least she usually was a little more understanding. 

Apparently, he had forgotten that she was a master of the guilt trip and, like any good mother, she knew that something was wrong the moment he opened his mouth. Having to lie to her while the Medic was nonchalantly petting him was quite possibly the worst feeling he had ever experienced. After he mumbled his goodbyes, the Medic lifted the phone away to set it back in its cradle. 

The Sniper pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them against his body. His masturbation scheme was the last thing on his mind at this point, and all he wanted was for the Medic to take him back to their room where he could curl up and feel sorry for himself. 

Instead, the doctor slid his chair so that he was facing the Sniper. There was the familiar feeling of the gloves over his face and the sound of gentle praise, but he wasn’t listening. It was the same cooing that somehow managed to make him feel worse than any of the torment he had to endure. 

But there was one word that lingered in the air longer than the others, and made his heart attempt a feeble jump. He ventured a cautious glance at the Medic’s face as he repeated himself. 

The Medic was going to reward him for being good. 

Up to this point it had been the fear of punishment that caused the Sniper to obey each humiliating order, but this new concept caused a stir of excitement in the Sniper. 

The shower of praise continued as the Medic held his pet’s face, bending down to press a light kiss to the Sniper’s forehead. It was the closest thing to affection that he’d ever show, and it meant more to the man he abused then it ever did to himself. He smiled as the Sniper contemplated the gesture for a moment before he leaned in to affectionately lick the Medic’s cheek. 

The doctor wasn’t hard to please, unlike the Sniper’s parents, and even though the kiss was fleeting, he found that he was eager to please his caretaker. Reciprocating the loving gesture the Medic had given him, he banished the last quiet whispers of protest from his mind. 

If he listened – the Medic would take care of him. 

If he listened – the Medic would reward him. 

If he listened – the Medic would love him.

155 .

>>150

I was literally thinking just yesterday that I wanted to re-read this.

THANKS YOU WIZARD ANON

156 .

>>132

I have it! I don't remember who wrote it, though. Also, I wish they would finish it.

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I still think about him. Even after all this time, and even after I’ve tried so hard to get him out of my head, he always comes creeping back in. I’ll be the first to tell you that he’s damn good at what he does. Or did, I guess. Ten years out of the war and he’s still sneaking around in my head. How sad is that? Ma says that it’s hopeless and I should just forget about him; I don’t think she’s ever been in love before. I mean really, really in love. She liked my dad and everything, but he was kind of a dick. Hit her and all that. I figure that pretty much screwed up her vision of what love is supposed to be, but who am I to judge? Maybe she was into that.

Ma lives with me now. Turns out, I’m the only son she could get ahold of. The others either got themselves killed or just plain drank themselves to death. Mikey, the oldest, beat a girl after he got her pregnant. Shit hit the fan for him, Ma said, but I’m not exactly sure what happened to the guy. It’s not like any of them didn’t deserve it, though. Believe it or not, I was always the “good kid.” You could tell because Ma always treated me better. I was her little boy and all that.

But Ma developed a gambling problem while I was away. She didn’t tell me this when I saw her again. Hell, she didn’t even tell me while she was sucking up all my money while I was at work. Needless to say, the dough I got from the war didn’t last long. We had to move from our old house into some shitty apartment near Main Street. The roof leaks and the floor’s squeaky and the furniture’s been ripped up by some cat - we’ve never had a cat - but at least we’re alive. It’s sad, because I said that to my teammates at the end of every battle. “At least we’re alive.” I shouldn’t have to compare living a normal life to being in a war, but that’s what it is, isn’t it? Everything’s war. It’s just that not all of it involves killing.

Yeah, anyway, Spy. I don't think he ever knew how I felt about him. Hell, even I didn't, not until the European half of the team got onto a different flight. He looked directly at me as he said goodbye, and I only really noticed his eyes right at that moment. Blue. Tired looking. He had seen a lot of shit. We all had. And I guess it was at that moment I figured out what he had really been trying to tell me when he was teasing me all those times. He was like a girl. A little fucking girl. He picked on me, but all he was trying to say was that he liked me. Goddamn. I felt like a fucking idiot for not realizing sooner. I felt like I had lost something really, really great.

But like I said, we had all experienced a lot of the same shit. All the fighting, in particular. And the blood. And the respawn. Oh, God, the fuckin' respawn. Don't even make me think about that again. The headaches were a nightmare; worse than a couple bullet wounds. You were pretty fucked up in the head whenever you came out of that damn thing. People who heard about the war think that the only side effect was dizziness for a couple of minutes. It was more like barfin' everywhere, stumblin' around like some drunk asshole, probably whackin' your head on something solid (like Heavy's fucking minigun), and passing out until your team was losing enough to wake you up. I even heard some people just up and threw up all their blood when they were respawned. But that was just a rumor, I guess. Not the point.

We had all experienced love, I think, at some point or another. Love between friends, and teammates, or comrades, or whatever. Love between lovers, too. It was written all over Heavy and Medic. Engineer made a couple passes at me, and sometimes I returned the gestures, but for the most part I didn't want to be situationally homosexual. (Soldier taught me that one.) I told Engineer I had a girl waitin' for me back at home. A real doll and all that. Now that I think about it, he probably saw through all my lies. I'm a terrible liar. Shufflin' my feet and avoidin' eye contact and all that. Bein' a terrible liar is what kept me up a lot of nights. I imagined they thought I was really freakin' callous or somethin', I dunno. Just a jerk in general. What scared me the most was the possibility that they knew what happened on those nights I couldn't sleep: I thought about a lot of gay shit.

I shouldn't have been scared, what with Heavy and the Doc and all. Somehow I thought it was just different when it came to me. They were all old and wise and shit like that, and that pretty much meant they had the experience to know whether or not they were fuckin' gay. Me? I hadn't even kissed a girl before. Thought about it, yeah, and a lot of other things, but I never really kissed one. I was just so young and such a moron. I was afraid they would think I was fakin' bein' gay to fit in with everyone. Something dumb like that. It's hard to explain without making me look like an ass, but it made sense at the time.

But, talkin' about Spy again, we were never sure what he liked. Caught him lookin' at some pornos once, dunno where he got them, but he had them and he also had a huge-ass boner to go along with it. At that moment I was pretty sure he was straight. The next day on the battlefield, though, I saw him makin' out with Sniper up in his nest. I didn't say anything. Sure as hell wanted to, though. Like, asking him what the fuck he's trying to do. A question that was on my mind a lot of the time was "Do you like fuckin' chicks or dudes, man?" but he probably wouldn't have answered that. He called me crude a lot.

"Petite," he said, flicking his knife open and shut. "I think it would be marvelous if you learned to be a bit more subtle."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" I asked. "I'm subtle enough. I can sneak up on a guy too, you know. You saw me fuck up that BLU Scout the other day. He didn't even know I was behind him."

"Oui, but..." he paused. "That's another Scout. I'd wager he was just as oblivious as you. Maybe a little more."

I glared at the fucker while he lit a cigarette.

"Asshole," I said.

"You're a child," he said, blowing smoke in my face.

And that was how our exchanges went for a long time. That's what really gets me. He was such a dick! Such a fucking asshole! Could you really blame me for thinking that he hated me? It never seemed like he was interested in me, not even once. His eyes were always really cold. The only time he ever seemed happy was when he was stabbing someone. I thought it was a pretty miserable way to live.

Compared to the way I'm livin' now... I won't say that I want to go back to the war. I won't say I want to leave ma behind again -- she's got nothin' but me now -- but I will say that I want to see those bastards one more time. They send letters sometimes, mostly letters that are tellin' me about how great things are. Engineer has a family. I never knew that. A daughter, she's two years old now. He sent me a picture of her; cute little thing. She's got his nose and fuckin' intimidating jawline. I never saw his wife, though. Guess they don't have many pictures of her or somethin'. Sniper's just livin' out in his camper van. Happy as can be, the weirdo. His letters are always really goddamn dirty, and one time I took out the letter and there was sand in it, but I appreciated the gesture. For someone who said he hated me, he sure writes nice letters.

So, yeah, the letters are nice, the whole keeping in touch thing is nice, but... I just want a letter from Spy. All I want to know is whether or not he's still alive. Some days I think I was imagining the fact that he liked me, to make me feel better or something, but then I think about the look in his eyes as we said goodbye. I think about them all the time. Details are clearer the more I think. I can remember how he hadn't shaved in days, and the bags under his eyes, and the way his tie wasn't as straight as usual. His eyes were really blue. Really, REALLY blue. Like... I don't fuckin' know. I think there were tears in his eyes. He called me petite again. I said he was a little bitch. We left, and I cried the whole way home. You just can't make memories like that up. I feel so alone.

“Scout!" my ma called. I remember her voice crackin'. I remember cause it made me feel so fuckin' sad. "Scout! I need you."

I opened the door and peeked inside her room. "Yeah?"

She was sitting on her bed in her blue bathrobe, smoking a cigarette with one of those holder things. Really long and thin. She hadn't done her nails in a while, so they were all cracked. Her hair was messed up, too. Like she had just slept on it.

"Babe..." she said, feeling around the bed for something. "I said I would meet the gals at the bar tonight, but my car's not workin'.... Mind drivin' me?"

She found what she was looking for -- a bunch of money. 1 dollar bills.

"I've got some gas money for you, sweetie," she cooed. "You can buy yourself somethin' for dinner after, if you want."

I sat down on the bed beside her. Held her hand.

"Ma," I said softly. "That ain't gonna buy gas. Not any food, either. There's about five dollars in there."

She didn't say anything, and started to sort through the money. I was wrong; there were about three dollars. The rest was fuckin' food stamps and a dollar-sized pamphlet she got in the mail.

"Honey, there's enough here," she said. She looked at me like I was crazy, took a drag from her cigarette, and blew the smoke into my face. Not on purpose, I don't think. She was losin' her mind.

"I just have to get ready to meet up with the gals," she said again. She stood up, patted me on the head, and locked herself in the bathroom. I gathered up the money, and put the food stamps in my pocket for safe keeping. I stayed for a while, to make sure she wasn't going to try anythin' stupid in the bathroom.

All I could think about was what Spy would say. He'd probably say I was pathetic. It'd be true. Everything was pretty abysmal. My ma was goin' crazy and it seemed like each day I was makin' less and less money. What kind of son was I? Couldn't even provide for my own mother. S'pose I was lucky she thought we had more than we did. She never liked the thought of bein' poor. But then she went and had 8 fuckin' kids. Guess she should've been expecting it.

"Maybe we can go see Mikey today," she'd say sometimes. "Or Adrian. Do you think Adrian is with him?"

"I dunno, Ma," I'd say. "Maybe."

And that would be that. I'd stare into my bowl of cereal or pretend to read the newspaper over again or watch TV. She'd do the same. We'd go on with the day. Even now, I'm not sure if she realizes that they're all dead. She got the letters, though. She got the men knocking at her door to tell her that her boy's dead. I know she did, because Mikey was the last one to go and he called me to tell me all about it. He said, and I quote, "Don't you fuckin' die in the war, dickweed, because ma needs at least one of us around." He got hauled away to jail after that, I think. Who's the dickweed now?

Reason I keep goin' back to Spy, even after tellin' you all this, is because that's what my head does. I think about Ma, the car, my job, my dead brothers, then Spy. Always Spy. Spy and his suit and that cologne and those stinky-ass cigarettes he smoked and the way he'd ruffle my hair or steal my hat. I can't stop thinkin' about the guy. I wanna tell someone how I feel but I have no one to talk to. Ma ain't gonna listen. She barely knows what she's sayin'. My coworkers won't give a shit. I don't even know their fucking names. My dad... my dad's just not an option. So I'm stuck. I'm stuck checkin' the mail every day for a letter from Spy, like some lonely housewife. I try to convince myself that I never loved him - like I'm trying now - but, like I said before, that's bullshit. I loved him. Everyone probably knew it.

Thinkin' about him keeps me going. Of course, my ma keeps me goin', too, but the thought of seeing spy again makes me want to get up in the morning. It makes me want to go to work. It makes me want to deal with all the shit I put myself through just so I can have a quiet, shitty dinner with my ma every night. I should try and track him down. Send him a letter thanking him. Maybe demand a reply. But there's no point. I know he wouldn't reply. He's probably forgotten all about me and found some other boy to play with. Or girl. Whatever.

I daydream a lot about one particular moment we had. I'm in the supply room, rummaging around in the closet for some bullets. It's off-hours, but I want to be prepared. Soldier had just finished grillin' me for running out of ammo in the middle of battle; I was the new kid at the time, so of course I was bound to be picked on. So I'm looking through boxes and boxes and boxes of the wrong ammo. I'm bendin' over a little bit and I guess my ass is stickin' out, because all of the sudden I feel someone tap it. I jump about a hundred fuckin' feet, cause I was convinced I was the only person in there. My head hits the shelf above me. It stings like a bitch.

"Fuck!" I say. "Fuck, fuck, SHIT!"

I turn around, but there's no one there. My eyes look over the room a couple times, and I even look up onto the ceiling just to make sure. Nothing's there, but I feel someone's hand on my shoulder. My skin gets all tingly and my eyes widen a little bit. I reach over, and despite the fact that there's fucking no one there, there's still a hand.

"Holy shit," I say, turning to look. Still no one.

My first thought is that this place is haunted. I'm scared shitless. My knees weaken a little because, damn, ghosts scare the fuck out of me. I think about running to Medic, because at the time I thought he was the most trust worthy, but on one hand I don't think the ghost'll let me make it out alive. I can take bullets, believe me, but not fucking ghosts.

"Uh... uh..." I begin. "Look, you fuckin' ghost, get your hand off my damn shoulder and leave me alone. O-ok?"

Jesus, I was such a little bitch.

"I just got here and I really don't want to die to a ghost and OH SHIT-"

He appeared there suddenly, hand still on my shoulder, cigarette smoke curling slowly around him. He was just... there. That's it. It wasn't magic or some shit. He just appeared. To this day I still wonder how the fuck that happened. I saw his cloaking device in battle loads of times and there was always smoke when he did anything with it. Anyway, I was scared. This was the first I had seen of the spy.

"You're an imbecile," he says simply.

I stare at him for a few seconds before I think of something to say.

"Fuck you!"

"Hm. Sniper told me you weren't a very clever boy," he says. "Guess he wasn't lying."

He finally removes his hand from my shoulder, and takes a drag of his cigarette. The smell reminds me of my house.

"Shut up," I tell him. "You're the one wearing a suit in battle. Stupid."

He laughs a bit. Adjusts his tie. Then one of his gloves. That was pretty sexy, thinking about it now.

"It doesn't prevent me from doing my job."
"Ya fuckin' frog," I say under my breath.

He hears me. He advances forward, frighteningly fast, and pins me to the wall. He's a lot taller than I am. He looks down on me, ash floating down from his cigarette in front of my face. He gives me a long, hard look.

"Watch your mouth," he says. "Petite."

My mouth twitches. I want to say something to him, but I get the feeling that he's a really dangerous guy. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and holds it, leaning in real close to me. His eyes are closed, and I think his lips are puckered. I remember being really bewildered and afraid of this shit. But, yeah, he stops, really fuckin' close to my lips. I feel his body heat and get really embarrassed. But I don't push him away. I don't do anything. I just wait. I guess even then I wanted him to kiss me.

But he doesn't.

"Don't cross me," he says, pulls away, then cloaks.

That was the first time I met him.

-------------

157 .

While the 'chan was down, someone on Circlejerk asked me for this re-post. I uh... yeah I forget who asked. Here it is, though.
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LOVE RITES OF THE PYROS

All was still on the Harvest base. The moon shone high overhead, just past full, starting to wane. Tomorrow, both RED and BLU would ship out to do battle for the Yukon. Exactly whose idea it was to send them to a frozen wasteland for the winter was unclear; RED Scout had been the first one to ask loudly why they couldn't be assigned to the frickin' desert for the winter, but all the others had secretly agreed.

Tonight, though, the only sound in the night was a shuffling, squeaking noise. It seemed to come from two directions at once, converging on a bare area out of sight behind some sheds and backing up on a high fence. Eventually, the noise resolved itself into footsteps, and both the BLU and RED Pyros squeezed into sight between the sheds. Neither of them was carrying any weaponry; for Pyros, they were naked.

They eyed each other warily across the empty space. the RED Pyro was resplendent in its rubber glove headdress, the BLU wore a shiny, protective fire helmet. They stood uncertainly for a moment, then the RED eased itself into the arena. The BLU adopted a saucy pose, one hand on its hip.

Sensing that its approach was not unwelcome, the RED did a little hopping dance. It waved its arms and legs, and wobbled its rubber glove hat. Encouraged, the BLU Pyro advanced. It essayed a few softshoe steps, a little heel-and-toe. Its RED counterpart nodded enthusiastically. "Hudda huddah huh!" it called.

"Hudda hudda huzzah!" the BLU responded.

They danced together, silently, keeping one rhythm. the RED did the Funky Chicken, the BLU put on the Ritz. Miming the act of holding an invisible guitar, the RED shredded out an air chord.

Unnerved by this aggression, the BLU Pyro retreated a few steps. Seeing that it had been too bold, the RED moderated its behaviour, soulfully miming a power ballad. This reassured the BLU, and it approached again, mirroring the RED's actions. Crooning through its mask, the BLU mumbled out the lyrics to "Light My Fire." They approached each other, slow but sure, playing their invisible guitars. They thrust their hips until the backs of their hands brushed together. There was no sound save for the faint squeaking of rubber on rubber. More carefully this time, the RED approached the crescendo to the song. The BLU moved in unison, building toward the triumphant organ solo.

At the point in the song where the guitarists would cede the stage to the organ solo, the Pyros stepped back from each other. Both of them crouched and, in unison, each formed a glowing ball of Hadouken fire. They held the fire in their hands, willing it larger, larger, until they could hold back no more. Each of them selected a nearby shed and let fly, the dry timber all but exploding with the sheer force of their passions.

In the light of the burning sheds, the Pyros fell upon each other, clutching and grappling, their rubber suits squeaking where they stuck together. They pawed each other desperately, snuffling through their masks, fumbling with the zippers of their chemsuits in their urgency. Finally, each of them latched onto the other's zipper, and each of them opened its lover's suit. The zippers made modestly narrow gaps at first, then gaped open at the Pyros' chests. As they opened, wider, potatoes began to pour through the gaps. A few spuds at first, then more, then a torrent, until both chemsuits were entirely empty and the ground was covered with potatoes.

The spuds tumbled together, rolling and rubbing each other in a tuberous orgy. They bumped together with wild abandon, wobbling and wiggling. The activity reached an apex in which every potato trembled together, and then it was done. The potatoes rolled back toward the chemsuits, slowly, lumpily reinflating them until the two Pyros lay side by side on the dusty ground. They tenderly zipped each other's suits, then the BLU pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from some unknown hiding place. It lit them both, then passed one to the RED; they smoked contentedly through their gas masks, then separated.

On the way out, the RED Pyro picked up its flamethrower and disposed of the BLU Sniper, who'd been sitting up in his roost and narrating the whole thing, with occasional exclamations of "Crikey!" and "BEWdiful!"

Toward the end of the winter in the Yukon base, both teams noticed that their Pyros were moving more slowly than usual. However, the firestarters refused to be examined by the Medics. After each team's Scout had called his respective Pyro "fat," a few bouts of friendly fire from the flamethrowers convinced everyone to ignore the whole situation.

That spring, after the whole war had been relocated to the Granary complex, the RED Engineer happened upon the RED Pyro humming to itself and tenderly burying something in a compost heap. He might not have thought anything of it, but later on he swore that he could hear faint "hudda!" sounds coming from under the soil.

158 .

>>157
>>157
>>157

AARGH
This is my most favouritest fic ever written on the topic of anything ever!
I thought it was lost forever!
Marty you make me so happy.

159 .

>>157
Wow...Wasn't expecting that! Hilarious.

160 .

Does anyone remember a Tentaspy story where the Pyro's were forced to give up their flare guns as a peace offering?

161 .

>>160
That was Water by Corvine.

162 .

Hmm, I don't remember the title, but it was a story about Pyro, how he was burnt badly as a chid in an accident and was a cross dresser?

163 .

Pah, meant child.

164 .

>>162

I don't remember the title though. Help?

---

“Got yah mail, freak!”

The Scout drops a package into your lap and sprints off. For all that the plain brown wrapping does nothing to reveal its contents, you know very well what’s hidden inside. Anticipation heats your body.

You take it to your room and close but do not lock the door. No one ever approaches you--the blank visage of your mask and incomprehensible speech spooks them off. Or perhaps it has something to do with the glee you express as you watch the skin crackled and peel off the backs your enemies. Either way, you are isolated off the battlefield. Sometimes, their distance makes you feel lonely, but mostly you’re glad to escape their attention. Especially now.

You cut the twine with your ax and tear the thick paper. There’s a note inside.

Beloved Brother,

I hope this package finds you in good health. Mother asks after you often and I tell her you’re enjoying yourself with your new friends. Please take some time to write to her. You and daddy may have your differences, but she misses hearing from you.

I know you prefer lighter shades, but I simply couldn’t resist buying this. It will compliment your eyes beautifully. Trust your older (and wiser) sister on that.

Remember to remain discreet, dear brother, and keep your spirits up.

Love and Kisses
Deidre


You pull out her gifts with care and reverence. Thin black stockings with matching garters, a short silk dress, dark eyeliner and shadow, and a tube of lipstick labeled ‘Sinful Scarlet.” Popping off the cap, you can see that the shade is a deep red and a thrill of excitement shoots down your spine.

You quickly strip yourself of your suit and boots, for once uninhibited by your appearance, and pick up a stocking with trembling hands. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you stretch out your left leg and place it at the tip of your toes, slowly rolling it up and over the arch of your foot, then your ankle. Calf. Knee. And finally thigh, where the elastic snaps on your flesh. Your eyes roll back at the cling of it, so tight on a male body. Your mask muffles a throaty moan. First touch of fabric is always the best in some ways. It is blessed relief and the knowledge that you will be able to take pleasure in something other than the tortured screams of an enemy Spy.

The other stocking slides on in much the same fashion, and you decide to go without the garters this time. You have no matching panties. It still takes a lot out of you to ask your sister to buy intimate undergarments. She accepted your need for women’s clothes, angel of mercy that she is, but the sexual aspect of it is something you both choose not to acknowledge. In truth, it’s not really about sex. It’s about the ecstasy of beauty. A powerful illusion.

You are glad that you chose to forgo the underwear when the dress slides coolly over your erect penis. A teasing, glorious touch. The lacy edge of the bottom just brushes the tops of your knees. It’s a modest length, but the dress is obviously made to seduce. The plunging neckline would make your mother frown in disapproval at any trollop wearing it. And now you’re the trollop wearing it. The thought makes you giggle.

You idly think about this dress on a mysterious woman in Paris. She is sharing a cigarette with the BLU spy on a hotel veranda. Or perhaps it clutches the bosom of a buxom blond in a Texas saloon, jiggling with her breasts as she laughs at the Engineer’s jokes. Maybe it conceals the slim form of an exotic courtesan in Vietnam, earning her salary from a foreign soldier. Or on a thickly-built woman with a whip and a German accent. A knowing neighbor undressing in a Boston bathroom as the naughty little boy she babysits peaks through her window.

But no, this dress does not belong to any of them. It’s yours and yours alone. Forced to awkwardly stretch over a hideous, flat chest. Narrow hips. Disfigured belly.

No, don’t think about that.[i] You shake your head and run your hands over your nipples in an attempt to regain momentum. You are lovely. You are feminine. These clothes were made for you. It’s a mantra in your head that you repeat as you grope under the bed for your only pair of heels.

These were a happy accident, the result of a break-in to an enemy base. You don’t know why a Communist Russian woman sequestered in a place of battle would have delicate heels in her room, but you’re grateful for it. Her shoes are the only ones you’ve found that fit your large feet. By the time she caught you swiping them, she was too busy dying to say anything about it.

You slip them on, buckling the almost laughably delicate straps. Standing in them makes you feel more exposed somehow. Everything is lifted, forced to sway as you walk. You couldn’t run in these if you wanted to, but you could easily destroy someone’s genitals with the point of your heel. It’s a strange mix of feeling foolishly helpless and utterly powerful.

You teeter across the wooden floors of the base, listening to your heels click, finding your stride. You wink at the imaginary men who’ve stopped to stare or whistle, blushing coyly. Saying, “Oh [i]stop
it, you silly boys!” Only it comes out as more of a ‘Hr strrp et, hhu shlly brrs” and the voice is not exactly girlish. You’ve long since lost the choir boy alto of your youth. Testicles dropped, asbestos filled your lungs and ruined your vocal chords. That fey, skinny body you used to hate so much grew just as your mother said it would. Into this apish, scar-thickened monstrosity of manhood.

You swallow down disgust. The clothes are the only things that make you feel human anymore. These trappings of feminine beauty.

All day you stalk through the dust--a faceless, sadistic, grunting beast. The high of adrenaline and power transforms you. Remakes you. And oh the glee, the ecstasy of watching an invisible spy suddenly ignite, a pillar of screaming flame floating across the desert. Your cock rises at the very thought of it.

All the helplessness and pain of your childhood and adolescence, the cruelty given out by the boys around you first for being too beautiful, then for being too hideous. All of it burns away under the flame. You are the one with the control now. You are the one laughing. Men twice your size fall at your feet and cower. Maybe no woman will ever touch you without revulsion, but these dead and dying men are your lovers now. You take your pleasure from their smoking black bodies.

Every day of carnage that passes erases more of the man you used to be. And at night, showering alone in the darkness, the thought of becoming the Pyro haunts you. The mask is your face. Your voice. Your identity.

That’s why you need this. The garters and the makeup. You need them to wipe away the monster. You must make something of yourself. Something soft and lovely. Something wanted, kind. Gloriously sensual.

You stop pacing and reach under your dress to clutch yourself, squeezing up to the head of your cock. A few more strokes and you finally have the courage to take off your mask. The feeling of cool air on your face is almost enough to trigger climax right then and there, and you moan just to hear your own voice echo clearly in the room. You resist the urge to bring yourself off now. This is not the moment. After all, you’ve yet to put on your face.

You choose a silvery-grey eyeshadow, streaking it across your fully-formed left eyelid. Your right eyelid is unfortunately absent, but you decide to brush a bit of shadow just under your brow to even things out. Eyeliner has always been a challenge despite your sister’s patient lessons. Successfully applying it without poking yourself or smearing is something you can never quite manage. You try your best. A bit of playful pink blush for both cheeks. Mascara--your favorite to apply. You remember watching your mother put it on in the mornings, looking perfectly classic in her primping rituals. Like Grace Kelly. That prissy little brush lengthening and darkening her striking lashes.

Finally the lipstick. You take off the top, smelling the wax, and press it to your mouth. One firm stroke for the bottom, one for the top. Then your rub your lips together, releasing them with a delightful little pop.


You rummage around your trunk for a tiny box and pull out a pair of pearl drop earrings. You pierced your ears yourself, sterilizing the needle with your flamethrower and penetrating the lobes while the metal was still hot. The throb of it was delicious.

Humming happily, you slide the earrings into place, relishing the weight of them as they swing.

It’s time.

You stand in front of your closet, clench your eyes shut, and reach for the handle.

“Like ripping off a bandage,” you whisper to yourself.

A full-length mirror hangs on the other side of this door. There is always a moment before jumping into the blue when you’re not quite sure if the parachute will open. Either you soar or you break. Fantasy holds you aloft; reality crushes you on the concrete.

Bracing yourself for impact, you take a deep breath, swing the door open, and lift your eyes. Your reflection meets your gaze with one of her own.

Both of you smile together.

There you are, you saucy, glorious minx.

The lipstick seems especially bright in contrast to your paleness. Your eyeshadow is uneven as expected. Your mascara clumped despite your best efforts. And of course, your scars are as disfiguring and awful as ever, shining with newer skin and deeply embedded into your face. To anyone watching, you look like a sick joke. A clownish parody. But…

But.

To you, there is nothing more perfect. The face in the mirror is unmarred. It is beauty incarnate. And it’s you. God, it’s such a freeing feeling to own and love your body this way. Like breathing without pain again, a sensation you can scarcely remember. Wonderful, wonderful. You’re a new woman.

You collapse back onto the bed and let the tears streak down the sides of your temples, making paths through your scars like rainwater in a dirty gutter. Your lips tremble under your smile but you don’t dare open them yet lest you wail loudly. The dress conveniently rucks up to your stomach, and you slide your hands over your belly to pull at your pubic hair. Someday, you must remind yourself to ask Dee for some opera gloves. You imagine how they’d feel as you take hold of your cock again and stroke your foreskin up over the tip, then down to unsheath yourself. Your hips jerk slightly at the sensation.

”Yeah, c’mon, touch yerself. Show me your tits.”

You gasp. Scout is vulgar, never more so than when he speaks to you from the inside. Obediently, you pull your dress up to your armpits and stroke over your nipples. You turn your head, but cannot hide your embarrassment.

”Don’t be shy, now, darlin. I’m gonna take real good care a’you. Like a gentleman should.”

You laugh. There’s nothing gentlemanly about this. Quite the contrary. But the Engineer’s hands are rough with calluses and they feel so good on your cheeks.

“Kiss me,” you say. Though your voice is surely as rough and low as it usually is, to you it sounds like a bell. Sweet, clear.

”Aah, mon cher. To kiss you would be a great honor. But where shall I kiss you, hm? On your belly? You sweet little nipples?”

You lick your fingers and rub them across your chest.

”Or perhaps I will penetrate your mouth wiz my tongue.”

Your mouth opens to accept him, only taking in air. But you can practically taste the tobacco on his breath. His lips are warm and soft. God.

God.

You are stroking frantically now.

165 .

>>31
What I have of it anyway.



Scout hated patrolling the waterways. It was boring, lonely and it was ceasefire for fucks sake. No-one would be down here! They just wanted to get rid of him for a few hours and he knew it. He angrily stomped down to the opening, where the tunnel poured into the open water. Sitting at the opening, he glared at the water, feeling quite bored. That was, until he began to notice the fish under there. He hadn’t taken notice of them before, often busy trying to evade a clumsy hail of gunfire while swimming for safety.

Dipping a hand in the water, he tried to catch some but found that they immediately darted away in fear. Reaching lower, he wiggled his hand about, still trying to catch the elusive fish when he finally got something, closing on what felt like a whole bunch of thin, slippery creatures. He cheered to himself, smug with victory. Soldier rambled on and on about being a real man – he was pretty sure at least one of those stories included catching all his meals with his bare hands. This’ll show the crazed sergeant! Scout pulled up, leaning back to check out his catch. Then, upon seeing his catch, he freaked out a little and leapt backwards, slipping and landing on his ass.

(If anyone asked, he didn’t shriek like a girl).

It looked like a miniature Spy, crossed with an octopus. The punch-line to some shitty joke some guy would make in a bar after getting drunk, shortly before he collapsed on the floor giggling and mumbling weird crap about seahorses. It was about a foot in length, with deep, dark eyes and suitable sized mask and suit. Its blue tentacles were curling around his hand, threading between the fingers to hold onto him tightly. It was smiling, slinking down his hand to grip his wrist with the tentacles so it could hug his digits with its tiny, gloved hands.

Scout stood up quickly but drew his hand to his face slowly, inspecting the strange animal. It was still smiling at him innocently, almost cutely, hugging his fingers like a child hugging its parent’s legs. He raised his other hand to prod its side gently. The Whatever-it-was giggled and nuzzled against the fingers it was wrapped around. Scout looked around wildly, making sure no-one was watching, before repeating the motion, smiling happily when he received the same adorable gesture.

It wasn’t a dog admittedly. But it was cooler then a cat. Cats do fuck all, why would anyone want a fat, lazy bastard for a pet? Besides, it was blue. That meant it’d be loyal to the BLUs, right? As Scout decided to keep the octo-Spy, more questions popped up. First, what exactly was it? What would it need? What did it eat? Would it grow much? He looked to it, unsure where he could hide it as he began to walk back into the base.

Then it hit him. Sniper was good with animals. It was one of the few facts about the man that everyone on the base knew, aside from the fact he was Australian and shot at things from shady hideouts. He was the one who looked after the cats and birds that ended up on BLU ground, so maybe he’d know a bit about the creature wrapped around his wrist. It was worth a try anyway. Making sure the mini-Spy was securely attached, Scout jogged quickly back, hoping to find Sniper before anyone else saw the blue, giggling glove.


Sniper took a deep swig of coffee, sighing deeply as the bitter brew warmed his body. Heavenly. He stood and stretched, causing his joints and bones to groan from stiffness. Being in his nest all day, perfecting the art of the headshot, did take a toll on the body. He looked forward to an evening of playing cards, drinking and maybe trying to get some reception on the radio. Soldier insisted on hearing static all the bloody time but Sniper was in the mood for anything that wasn’t static. Hopefully he’ll find the radio abandoned.

Leaving his cup on the table, he started for the hatch when it swung open with a bang. Scout practically threw himself into the nest, grinning wide when he saw Sniper.
“Man, I knew you’d be here!” he didn’t pause before holding up his hand. “Look, I found this thing-“
Sniper gave a yell and jumped backwards, tripping over the junk he kept everywhere. His eyes widened at the sight of the Tentaspy, which was emitting a bell-like laugh and still holding onto Scout with a tenacious grip.

Scout raised an eyebrow at the response, as Sniper recovered and stood up hastily, correcting his aviator shades.
“Bloody hell, where did you get that?” he exclaimed, reaching for his kukri. Scout drew back his hand sharply, raising his other to act as a shield between his pet and Sniper.
“Hey, don’t even think about cutting up my new pet!”
“Pet?” Sniper barked, lowering the blade and rubbing his face roughly. “You’re keeping a Tentaspy for a bloody pet?”
“Yeah, and?” Scout demanded, holding the Tentaspy close to his chest.

The Tentaspy, largely ignoring the commotion, eased itself off Scout’s hand and onto his chest, gripping the blue shirt with all its tiny limbs. It began to pull itself up, leaving damp marks until it reached his shoulder, happy to rest there and watch the two men argue with its bright, dark eyes.
“You can’t keep a Tentaspy! Don’t you know what they grow up to be like?”
“Lemme guess, Spies? C’mon Sniper, I’m sure we can make him tame or something!”

Sniper rubbed his temples. He could already see he wasn’t going to be able to get through to the young man. It was a reoccurring theme in conversations with Scout that even if he was proven wrong, even if he himself /knew/ he was wrong, he wouldn’t back down from his point. He sighed gruffly, eying Scout as he glared back at him, one hand holding the Tentaspy steady. It wasn’t a good idea. But - Sniper realised, placing his kukri aside - it was interesting to see Scout behave so tenderly towards something. Maybe it’d teach him some responsibility.

Scout’s expression softened slightly when he saw the weapon lowered. Sniper sighed and began to rummage through his things, finally pulling out a clear plastic box. He placed it in front of Scout.
“Alright. Since you’re serious about keeping it, I’ll tell you how to care for it. But I warned you, right?”
“Right, whatever. What’s this for?” Scout asked eagerly, pointing at the box.
“A tank. It’ll only work temporally but it’ll keep the tentacles hydrated until you get something bigger. And you will need something bigger, that bugger will grow rapidly.”
“When will that be?” Scout was paying very close attention, absorbing all the information as fast as Sniper was delivering it.
“Moment it starts cloaking.”

Sniper frowned at the Tentaspy but not in disapproval. It was hard to gauge its age based on appearance alone. Infant Tentaspy development was mapped by the skills it had acquired. Speaking usually occurred during the third month. Disguises and impersonation began at around four months, with an additional month or two for the Tentaspy to develop sufficient skill. Cloaking was the last ability gained at eleven months. After that, the Tentaspy would be fully grown by the first year and a half of its life and be sexually active. Sniper shuddered at the thought.

“Hey man, it’s rude to stare.” Scout didn’t like the look on Sniper’s face, misreading it for antipathy. Sniper shook his head.
“It’s nothing.” It was vocal so... “I reckon it’s about two months old.” He said, picking up the box and placing it in Scouts hands. “Fill this with water quickly and always keep the lid on unless you’re handling or feeding it. Slippery thing might escape otherwise.”
“Okay, got it!” Scout said brightly, heading towards the hatch before he turned, remembering something.
“Urm...what do they eat?”
“Meat, any kind, cooked or uncooked. And Scout?”
“Yeah?”

Sniper gave both Scout and the Tentaspy a stern stare, made more intimidating by the way his shades hid his eyes. The pair was half out the hatch, so he easily loomed over them. The Tentaspy tightened its grip on Scout, who looked levelly back at Sniper with a hint of a scowl, not liking the Aussie’s dominating stance.
“Nobody else sees that thing if you want it to live.”



------------------------------------------

Scout jogged down the hall to his room, ducking in and slamming the door shut, not bothering to lock it. It wasn’t even like anyone would come in; they had a PA system wired in practically every room in the base and the bedrooms were the one place where privacy was respected. If anyone was going to come in they’d have the decency to knock before just walking in. Even Heavy knew better to burst into anyone’s living space unannounced. His room was pretty much the same as the others; Bed by wall, window overlooking the desert, desk by said window, Tentaspy tank in corner.

Well, the Tentaspy tank was unique to his room. He grinned at it, taking off the bandages he wore around his hands as he walked towards it, shrugging off his bag.
“Hey, little guy! How you doing?” he asked brightly, taking the lid off and quickly setting it aside. The Tentaspy immediately rushed up to surface, watching at him with bright eyes. It smiled and spoke in a small, childish voice.
“Good.” Scout’s smile only widened as he retrieved his bag, opening it hastily and pulling out some clumps of assorted barbeque meats from dinner. The Tentaspy’s eyes widened with glee, using his tentacles to bob above the waterline, holding up its arms to cutely implore for the food.

As Scout gave it the food, slowly, it took the venison eagerly and ate each piece ravenously. Once finished, the Tentaspy thanked him in that soprano voice, still holding out its arms. The young man plucked it out of the water, careful to not spill the liquid out the tank, and let the creature wrap itself around him. The Tentaspy looked up at him as it settled on his forearm, holding onto his sleeve to steady its upper body as the tentacles slipped around his elbow. Scout gently stroked the creatures back as it got comfortable, humming happily.
“How was that?” he asked, raising his arm so he and his pet could see eye to eye.
“Delicious! I really liked the lamb.” The Tentaspy wrapped its arms around the sleeve it clutched, hugging and nuzzling the arm beneath the cloth.

The little creature could speak excellently well, when it spoke at all. It was pretty quiet for the most part. For some weird reason it had a French accent and could speak both English and French. It bugged him slightly that it innately copied Spy in some ways. But it couldn’t help it, Scout figured, holding it carefully in an embrace. It didn’t act like Spy – it was like a little kid, just watching the world around it with nothing sinister going on in its head. It was just as affectionate as one too, still holding onto him as it looked up at him adoringly.

“How’s the tank?” It hadn’t grown much, probably just an inch. But it hadn’t learnt to cloak yet, so Sniper might still be right about the ‘rapid growth’ thing. He had neglected to ask just when it would learn to cloak but it was cool to be surprised by what it could do. When it first talked Scout had nearly jumped out of his skin!
“It’s okay. It’d be nicer if you could join me.” Bright, piercingly blue eyes looked keenly up at him. Scout chuckled – it always wanted to try and be closer to him. But he was always diligent in keeping the tank lid shut so it didn’t escape and sneak into his bag or something. That would be a nightmare. He could only picture what Soldier or Medic would do to the little guy...

The Tentaspy smiled at the sound of Scout gently chortling, leaning against him and breathing deeply. “Well, it would be...” it said, slowly with a slight whine but still smiling.
“Yeah, yeah...but it’s just too small. I wouldn’t be able to get my leg in that thing, remember?” he said, referencing the instance when he had proven that there was no way he could fit into the tank, only a few days after the Tentaspy had started talking.

A loud knocking at the door made Scout turn sharply, eyes widening. “Fuck.”
“Oi, Laddie! You in there?”
“Double fuck.” He hissed. Why the fuck was Demo at his door? He looked down at the Tentaspy, who was merely watching curiously, and then at the tank. No – he knew it wouldn’t go in easily and the struggling and splashing would be audible. He stood up quickly and hid his arm behind his back, angling himself so the position seemed natural and completely hid the sea-sapien.
“What the fuck do you want?” he called harshly, his usual attitude resurfacing.

Predictably, the door was kicked in as the drunken explosives expert stumbled in.
“Solly wants to review some battle tactics. In the War Room, right now!” Scout frowned angrily.
“Right now? I’m fucking busy man!” The Tentaspy was gripping the back of his shirt now and he could feel the tentacles slipping and grabbing in an unpredictable way.
“So was I, and if I have to go to this bloody meeting so do you!” and before the young man could escape, Demo reached forward and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, easily pulling him from the safety of his room.

Scout clenched his fists as he was dragged behind Demo. Okay, Demo hadn’t noticed the tank or the Tentaspy. That was good. For once he was glad that the guy who handled explosives was always plastered and largely oblivious. But how was he meant to hide the Tentaspy in a room full of his team-mates, team-mates who were usually sober and more observant then Demo? He swore spitefully at the man in question, trying to convince him to let him go and trying to pull himself free at the same time (neither of which succeeded, unless further aggravating the Scot was counted as a victory).

And throughout his efforts he could feel the Tentaspy shift and wiggle behind him, somehow avoiding falling as he struggled. Just as Scout was about to unleash a fresh wave of harsh insults and thrashing, he felt a tentacle slip /down his pants/. He was about to yell at the Tentaspy when he remembered his present company and had to opt for loud, frustrated swearing. Man, the little Spy was supple. He vaguely recalled Sniper saying that it was a slippery thing but he kept his belt pretty tightly fastened. And it was slipping /inside/! First one tentacle, then another, then three more; swiftly progressing until it was sliding its body in as Demo hauled him into the War Room.

The rest of the team was already waiting, Soldier getting into his element as he snapped at them for being late to the impromptu meeting. Scout waved off his ranting and strode to a seat, praying that no-one noticed the Tentaspy as it fully slinked into his trousers. Sitting down with his usual slump, he suppressed a shudder as he felt his pet wetly glide along his leg until it reached the baggy creases, just above his sock.

The meeting was long. Not especially long, especially compared to other tactical reviews the BLUs had sat through, but it was made longer in Scout mind from boredom, frustration and worry about his Tentaspy being discovered. Luckily it didn’t move around much – after about ten minutes, it just curled up against his leg, tentacles lazily gripping the fabric or his shin. He guessed it was asleep or something. He only half-focused on what was being said and, the moment the meeting was adjourned, he lightly jogged back to his room and slammed the door shut, immediately locking himself in.

He sat down and carefully pulled off his socks, reaching up his trouser leg to retrieve the Tentaspy. Pulling it out, he sighed. It was fast asleep. The tentacles idly wrapped around his fingers and gripped with a shadow of their usual unrelenting force as he held it in his palm. It felt quite strange as the suckers seemed gently press against his skin, as if planting faint kisses with a pulsing rhythm. It looked totally content; eyes closed and gloved hands tucked under its head for a pillow. He lifted a finger and, with some hesitation, gently stroked it as it slept. It made a happy noise, something like a child’s sigh and an animal’s purr.

Scout smiled down at the Tentaspy. He felt peaceful, watching it rest. Looking up to the clock, he saw it was nearly time for lights out. Picking himself off the floor deftly, he dipped his hand into the tank slowly, hoping that the water wouldn’t startle the Tentaspy and wake it up. It didn’t thankfully, even though it did seem to stir slightly and in the water the tentacles hold loosened further, allowing him to extract his hand without becoming ensnared like he usually did when returning the creature. He put the lid on tightly, double checking it tonight. Once sure that the Tentaspy wouldn’t be able to escape, he undressed and slipped into his bed, getting into a comfortable sprawled position.

“Night...” he murmured, before drifting into the dreamy abyss.

He hadn’t noticed that the Tentaspy actually had awoken as he was getting changed for the night. It peered at him through the tank, hands pressed against the barrier. It smiled wistfully.
“Bonne nuit.” Then it yawned and began to slumber, adrift in both water and sleep.




------------------------------------------

Sniper drummed his fingers against his knees, one hand still curled around the mug of coffee he’d set on the side. It was a strangely comfortable perch, just by the windowsill, that he rarely got to use since he was usually exchanging gunfire through said window. It was early in the morning, the sun not yet peeking over the horizon. The sky was beginning to brighten despite this, darkness being chased away by a deep turquoise blue which tinted the world with its soft glow. He was patiently watching his guest behind his aviator shades, like some sort of laid-back analyst.
“Different? How different?”

Scout shifted uncomfortably, opting to stand rather than sit on the floor. Normally he’d be exercising now, jogging around the base before breakfast. But with Sniper being an early-riser too, he figured it was a good time to get some advice on the Tentaspy while everyone else was still in bed. To help burn anxious energy he paced, trying to get the words needed to explain why he had come up to the sniping nest.
“Well it’s...fuck, kinda hard to explain, you know?” He ran a hand through his hair, having left his cap in his room, and frowned at some random piece of crap Sniper had collected. The sharpshooter could practically see the cogs in the boys head turn.

“Well, it’s always been affectionate. Always hugging my hand and shit. Kinda like a kid, you know? Just...acting all childish and clingy. But lately it’s been acting weird.”
Sniper gave a thoughtful hum, bringing his mug to his lips. He hadn’t talked with Scout much about the Tentaspy after his initial warning but he would admit that he was impressed. Evidently it was still alive and physically healthy and it seemed that no-one besides them were aware of the mites presence - yet. When it began to grow he was certain Scout would slip up somewhere. But currently, Sniper had to give credit where it was due.

“You’re going to have to be more specific then ‘weird’ mate.”
He didn’t know much about how Scout handled the Tentaspy or how the unlikely pair interacted though, so it was hard for him to judge the situation. It didn’t help that Scout became defensive when he had asked, only giving snappy, closed responses at best. But he was opening up about the out of place behaviour, which could be useful in figuring out the usual behaviour.

Scout groaned and threw his arms out in exasperation.
“Like...like it’s not being a kid so much anymore! It still treats me the same but it’s becoming more...”
“Like a Spy?”
“Yeah!” The younger man snapped his fingers and turned, a hand out stretched to the senior. “It’s getting Spy-like!” Sniper uttered a short laugh, sitting up slightly and leaning forward with his forearm resting on his knee.
“It’s a Tentaspy, mate. Clue is in the name.” Scout glared at the condescending tone, even more so when he noticed the grin on the Aussies face.
“Okay, fuck you. Fucking camper.”

He flounced out, giving Sniper a crude hand gesture and started back to his room. In truth, it wasn’t so much the Spy part of his pet was that was getting to him. It still enthusiastically absorbed his spare time, trying to be close and wanting to talk but something had changed. It wasn’t so much like a pet anymore. It was more like a person. He had often thought of it like a child but it had been more like a talking puppy. Now it was talking back to him on an equal level, forming its own ideas, opinions and thoughts. He wasn’t sure if he was worried or just uncomfortable with the shift in dynamic.

Opening the door he saw the Tentaspy swimming calmly around in its tank. The moment it saw him it pressed against the glass, tentacles curling in the water. Scout walked over casually, unsuccessful in hiding his reticence as he opened the tank and greeted it. The Tentaspy frowned at him slightly.
“You seem troubled. What’s wrong?” it asked, latching onto his wrist before the limb could escape from its reach.
“Nothing.” Scout replied tartly. He sat down on the edge of his bed and began to feed his pet raw strips of salmon. It ate quietly, mulling over thoughts in its head.
“Something is bothering you though.” It said, finishing the last of the fish. It was looking at him, clearly concerned despite the mask it always wore.

Scouts expression flickered when he met the Tentaspy’s gaze. He sighed heavily.
“Look, it’s nothing, alright? There’s just some stuff I need to think about.” He looked away from the Tentaspy, bothered by the feeling of discomfort. He didn’t want to always feel awkward around the little thing. It was probably the only person around here who didn’t tell him to shut up the moment he opened his mouth (aside from Sniper, even if he was still a bastard on occasion). It wasn’t even the little things fault, it was his and that made him only more frustrated with himself.

The Tentaspy easily saw through his denial though. It would push, try to irk the information from him, but it knew Scout very well and knew that his beloved owner simply wouldn’t crack. Get angry, get loud, maybe even start using exaggerated hand gestures as he tried to wave off concerns about him; but he wouldn’t confess to anything unless physically pushed. The Tentaspy didn’t look away from his face. It hadn’t seen many other people. It had caught snatches of the large black figure that had burst in one day to drag Scout somewhere and still remembered the tall, intimidating individual the Scout called ‘Sniper’ – but aside from them, the only face it had seen was Scouts. It usually loved seeing the expressions he would make but it didn’t like the look he currently portrayed.

Unfortunately, it was at a loss of what to do to remove the expression and replace it with something nicer, more familiar. Still young and innocent for its species, the Tentaspy didn’t know of any physical means to ease Scout into revealing what was wrong. Resigning itself for now, it settled for slipping from its perch on his wrist to grip onto the young man’s top, hulling itself up. Scout turned slightly, now confused rather than uncomfortable.
“Hey, what are you doing?” he asked, as it reached the collar. Rather than answer, the Tentaspy threw its tiny arms around his neck as best as it could, nuzzling against his throat. The tentacles pressed alongside his skin, suckers applying firm pressure to keep it in place.

Scout blinked at the affection, unsure what to say. The Tentaspy remained totally quiet, holding onto him tightly. Slowly, he lifted a hand to cradle the creatures back, smiling slightly at the gesture. Maybe it was growing up in a way. But it wasn’t like it was going to change completely. He tickled its side and heard it giggle, just like when he found it. Well, not just like then – its voice had become deeper since then. Either way, at this moment in time, he felt relaxed. Weird, how the little thing had such a soothing effect on the energetic runner.

A loud siren rang over the PA system. Scout was snapped out of his pet-induced trance. He only had five minutes to get ready for the next attack! He swore, getting to his feet and gently easing the Tentaspy from him. Luckily, he had been fast enough to prevent it increasing its hold from ‘I like this position’ to ‘No! Not the tank!’ – The aquatic Spy was in the water and the lid whacked on in record time. Scout knelt down and pressed a finger to the tank, smiling. The Tentaspy recovered quickly, propelling itself to the barrier and pressing a hand over the digit. Scout noticed the neglected look and tapped his finger.

“Hey. I have to go!” He said firmly. The Tentaspy nodded slightly, still looking sad. Scout gave it another small smile. “Thanks. For cheering me up.” Then he was gone, grabbing his equipment and dashing out to battle. The Tentaspy floated distractedly in its tank, drifting around as it thought. It was all he could do, left alone so often. It smiled to itself, remembering how Scout had brightened after it nestled at the base of his neck. Maybe it would work next time he was upset. Resting in the corner, it began to practice.

It was hard to speak underwater, especially when trying to mimic a Bostonian accent, but it got by. Afterall, the Tentaspy was out the tank only when Scout was present and that time was strictly for being with Scout.





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“The war isn’t going well.”

The Tentaspy had begun to understand the meaning of this phrase very well, although it differed significantly compared to how everyone else on the base translated it. “The war isn’t going well” usually meant that the continuous battle at hand was not progressing towards the favour of the speaker (in this case, members of the BLU team). For Tentaspy, it had a far simpler meaning – Scout was frustrated and returning with more injuries. He was fully aware of the connection between the literal meaning of the statement and his own interpretation, but it was only his own interpretation that he really cared about.

At first, seeing Scout with bullet wounds, scorch marks, deep bruising and the occasional slash had stunned the Tentaspy into silence. He merely watched as Scout shrugged off his equipment, threw his hat moodily onto his bed and stomped out, muttering angrily to himself. When he came back later with not a scar on him (a detail which only intrigued the Tentaspy further) the seaborne Spy found his tongue and began to question the young man. Scout was only too happy to lament the repetitive failures of the team, knowing that the Tentaspy wouldn’t brush him off or punish his viewpoint.

“So I finally get the Intel, after having to put up with weeks of planning and learning tactics and all that bullshit, and fucking Pyro has to cock it up by swapping fire with the enemy Pyro right where I’m meant to run! Fucking Mumbles, I was nearly out of there and next thing I know my ass is on fucking fire.” Scout glowered out the window, clearly reliving the event in his mind. The Tentaspy nodded thoughtfully. Through these rants he learned about the rest of the team; or at least, Scouts opinion of them.

What concerned the Tentaspy more though, were the wounds. Whenever he brought them up, Scout would describe where he got each and from whom, but would brush off the severity. But the Tentaspy wasn’t convinced. The scars kept coming back, despite Medic’s repeated efforts to heal Scout (and the rest of the team). Every day the smooth, slightly tanned skin would be marred with fresh damage. It was upsetting, as the Tentaspy spied on him from the window and saw the bloody mess he became. His tentacles would coil angrily, seeing the REDs tenaciously pursue the BLU clothed boy.

Scout didn’t realise that the Tentaspy knew this, of course – just as he hadn’t realised that the continuous pressure and stress meant he wasn’t checking that the tank lid was securely fastened anymore. When he left for battle the Tentaspy would slip out and hull himself onto a perch near the window, watching the battle with great interest. When he wasn’t watching Scout (his eyes never left the young man until he disappeared from sight), he watched the Spies. It was intriguing that they looked and sounded like the Tentaspy. As the final siren blared at the end of the day, the Tentaspy would slip back into his tank and Scout was none the wiser.

Much like today. Today Scout returned with no scars. He must have visited the Medic before coming in, as he had been bearing several deep gashes across his arms when walking off the battlefield. He opened the tank and retrieved the Tentaspy lazily, before flopping onto his bed with a groan. Taking advantage of the fact that he was flat on his back, the Tentaspy crawled onto top of his chest, inadvertently hitching his shirt up so the tentacles slipped across bare skin. It was warm and on Scouts torso were some wisps of soft, fair hair, a new sensation to the Tentaspy.

Just watching him, the Tentaspy knew that today had been another bad day. Judging by the change in his behaviour, it had been a really awful day. He lost his usual, bouncy energy and was less talkative and more solemn. If he had just had a bad day, he would be pacing and ranting loudly, waving his arms excitedly. Tentacles pressed firmly against Scouts chest as the Tentaspy lowered his frame to lie against him, using the bunched shirt as a pillow and still gazing at Scout gently. He purred slightly as Scout laid a hand over him, stroking his back idly. The pair remained like that, Scout breathing deeply and looking up at the ceiling with his pet settled on his chest, for a few quiet minutes.

“The fighting is getting worse, isn’t it?” Scout nodded, without shifting to look at the Tentaspy. He was scowling darkly to himself, the Tentaspy’s voice sounding very far away. The Tentaspy snuggled into the soft fabric of his makeshift pillow, unsuccessful in hiding his own sad frown.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Scout sighed heavily and sat up, shaking his head. He kept the Tentaspy supported with his hand, although he didn’t need to. The suckers on his skin meant that the little creature wasn’t going to be shifted easily. His top fell back into place but his stomach remained bare as that fabric remained in the Tentaspy’s hands.

Scout looked out the window glumly. Even though he said ‘no’ to talking about it, he knew that he would just end up chasing the same thoughts around his head until he did talk to someone about it. The rest of the team already knew and were taking the news in their individual ways, so that only left his little Tentaspy.
“We lost.” He said, eerily calm as he stood up and walked to the window. The Tentaspy looked up at him, puzzled but mute at the statement. He allowed himself to slip from Scout’s chest (leaving circular pock marks where the suckers had been) to his bandaged hand, where he was lifted to the young man’s shoulder.

The sun was still bright over the desert, descending towards the horizon steadily. The Tentaspy only spared the view a glimpse before watching Scout’s lips as he talked. “HQ reckons we can’t do anymore out here. Says it’s time for us to pack up and move out. We’re being relocated in a week.” Scout’s fists clenched. If there was anything he hated, it was having his pride wounded. Being told to back down, to give up 2Fort without resistance and run off like a pansy, was an incredible blow to his ego and it showed in the rest of the team too. They had been hurting for the past few weeks with failure after failure. Now they couldn’t redeem themselves. They couldn’t hit back hard enough to kick the REDs back where they belonged.

It also caused other problems, for Scout specifically. How was he meant to hide the Tentaspy during the moving process? He’d have to somehow make the tank fit into his crate with the rest of his crap. But that was easier said than done as the tank was very fragile and any noise, whether it was the tank breaking or the Tentaspy itself, would result in the crate being forcefully opened. Leaving the little thing in the waterways was one option. ‘Release it back into the wild’. But no – Scout had already decided that he wasn’t just going to abandon his pet. Besides, he reasoned, the Tentaspy would probably refuse to stay put and demand to go with him.

The Tentaspy saw the clouded look Scout wore and leaned against his head, stroking his hair with a tiny hand and whispering sweetly in his ear.
“Do not worry. A new base is a fresh start, non? Maybe this new location can offer us more advantages. I am sure the enemy will be begging for mercy, not long after our arrival.” Scout’s expression softened at the light petting and hushed reassurances. The Tentaspy gradually quietened as Scout sighed warmly. He was still tense and his mind still fogged with frustration and concern, but he was calm enough to see through the mist and deal with the situation more collectedly then before. He reached up and clasped the Tentaspy gently with a hand, his thumb stroking the creature again. He chuckled slightly as the Tentaspy purred happily, cuddling his hand in kind return.
“What would I do without you, heh?”

That night

The Tentaspy frowned at Scout through the tank. The boy was sleeping peacefully, nestled in warm sheets and semi-bathed in moonlight. He was sprawled on his back; limbs haphazardly spread under the bedding save for an arm that hung out over the edge of the mattress. Tentacles flicked in the water as their owner rested on the plastic floor. He was thinking, which wasn’t an unusual occurrence. But he was deeply involved in his thinking – so deep he didn’t see anything except for the oblivious Scout.

He didn’t think much when he met Scout. He ran purely on instinct, wrapping himself around the boys hand when it had plucked him from the water and eagerly absorbing the warmth that radiated off it. He quickly became close to the young man from that moment on. No, he corrected himself, drifting up to the top of the tank. He probably adored Scout the instant he saw him. But the Tentaspy couldn’t pinpoint what it was about him that he had become so fond of. There was so much to be fond of.

But here his dilemma arose. In the early days it was easy to simply adore Scout and show his affection openly. As of late however, he found that his feelings were beginning to change. He couldn’t quite understand what was happening himself, which was bothersome. He liked to think that he understood many things, including that which he wasn’t supposed to know, and that little eluded his quick mind. On the other hand, exploring these emotions did give him something to do he reasoned, pushing himself out of the tank silently.

Slipping out wetly and surprisingly quiet, he began to creep to Scout. Why did he suddenly want more? To be nestled close to him at night, map the tender skin with all his body? The Tentaspy didn’t know why. However, just because he could use logic and reasoning didn’t mean he always had to. Running on instinct once more, the Tentaspy pulled himself into Scouts bed, sliding under the warm covers. He slowly edged up Scout’s body, careful of disturbing him from his slumber.

He soon found a very comfortable spot, resting atop Scouts chest. The Tentaspy settled, relaxing as he felt himself rise and fall with Scout’s deep, peaceful breathing. Closing his eyes slowly, the Tentaspy pressed his lips to the skin he rested on before falling asleep himself. He knew he would wake far earlier then Scout, sneak back into his tank and feign sleep at sunrise, like a child sneaking into his parent’s bedroom when he couldn’t sleep. It was only because he was secure in this knowledge that he let himself drift into dreams, inhaling Scouts scent with each tranquil breath.




------------------------------------------

Scout chucked fistfuls of magazines into bags, barely halfway through the mound he was trying to clear. He half turned to Sniper, who was coolly flicking over some records and carefully placing them into a box.
“Man, how fucking old are these things?” Scout held up a yellowing gun catalogue. It looked older than him, the models now obsolete. “I know you’re a packrat but half of this stuff is just crap!” Sniper shot him a wary glare as he labelled the box and set it aside.
“Do you ever shut up, Scout? Look, I’m doing you a favour by hiding your pet squid-Spy but to do it I need these things cleared. And if they’re not cleared fast enough, you know what’ll end up happening.” Scout grumbled and resumed his slapdash cleaning.

The pair was sorting through Sniper’s vast collection of things; partly because headquarters had requested that the team take as few personal items with them to the next base; and largely because the majority of Sniper’s things were junk. It was a bright day but the nest was shadowy, broken by striped sunbeams entering through the boards blocking the windows. Sniper didn’t take chances, wary of the enemy Sniper deciding to shoot him as a pity kill. Between them the Tentaspy lazily drifted in his tank, watching and listening. Scout currently wasn’t taking any chances either, suspicious of anyone trying to enter his room while he was absent.

“I just don’t get it man. If this stuff was interesting then I’d sorta understand why you’d keep it all, but most of this is just papers and shit.” He stuffed more of the aforementioned papers (and shit) into the bag, tying a knot at the top and throwing it aside, reaching for an empty one. Sniper sighed, sensing that Scout was impervious to requests that he be quiet.
“They were useful at the time, alright?” He threw another bag besides the one Scout had just tied. “Besides, it makes good cover for me transporting the tank for you, now doesn’t it?” He gave Scout a small, charming smile.

Scout scoffed then reached for the next stack of crap to sort. His eyes widened.
“Woah! How long have you had these bullets here for?” he asked in amazement, pawing into an impressive collection of ammo, no longer hidden by piles of rubbish. It looked like Sniper had at least ten bullets for every gun the team owned, even Heavy’s prized Sasha. And that shit was meant to be expensive. Scout would’ve assumed that they had been swiped from the resupply cupboards but these had dust on, and were completely different brands to the ones BLU brought. Sniper looked over his shoulder and shrugged.

“Not sure. I got that lot back when I was about your age.” He strode over casually as Scout scooted backwards, opening the tank discreetly. The Tentaspy grinned widely at the sneaky action, latching onto Scout and settling behind his head, like a child sitting on their father’s shoulders.

Sniper wiped aside the dust to read the labels of the boxes. “Yeah, this is back from when I was experimenting with different guns.” Scout frowned at that. He had been given his weaponry by BLU, so he hadn’t picked it. Then again, Sniper was a professional. He had probably spent years in the outback, tracking crocodiles and dingoes to find the best artillery. The Tentaspy just watched, folding his arms and resting them atop Scout’s cap. He looked slightly bored, since Sniper had insisted that he stay in the tank.

Sniper turned with an armful of the boxes and nearly dropped them when he saw the Tentaspy out, tentacles casually draped around Scout’s neck and shoulders. He narrowed his eyes at the pair.
“I thought I told you to keep it in the tank!” He said, swiftly moving over to his box and setting the ammunition down on the floor and beginning to sort it from there.
“Insulting tank man...” The Tentaspy muttered under his breath. He went unnoticed as Scout piped up.
“C’mon Snipes, you’re not scared of a little Spy, are ya?” He sauntered over to Sniper with his typical attitude present in every motion of his body. The Tentaspy leaned leisurely forward on Scout’s head, resting his head on one tiny hand as he watched the Australian with interest. Sniper turned around slowly, carefully returning the gaze.

He knew what was happening. Scout’s predator instincts were kicking in – the boy could sense fear or awkwardness. Every young lad had it; it was how they knew who was an easy target, allowed them to pick out the weak before striking. It pissed him off that the boy could tell that he was nervous about his freakish pet. But in a way, it made him oddly proud, that his instinct was sharpening. When he first entered BLU, Scout was just a street punk with quick feet. Used to working in a pack, where rank was probably sorted by age and who could punch the hardest, as opposing to working in a real team.

However he was growing and learning surprisingly fast. It took some beating down from the other team members for Scout to start unlearning what he had been taught in Boston. But once that faulty knowledge was knocked from his head, he picked up new information as fast as he could run. Engineer had once reflected (over a couple of beers and a campfire) that the boy probably had a good mind in him that was ‘going to waste’ out here. Sniper didn’t think it was going to waste. Scout only allowed himself to learn about matters that interested him, and the Australian highly doubted he cared for anything academic. No, he mused, standing up straight to his full height to remind the young man of where he currently stood, Scout wanted to be a professional hired gun. And he could easily be moulded into one.

Scouts lost a bit of his nerve as Sniper slowly rose, resembling a wary snake, although he wouldn’t show it or concede an inch. He kept forgetting that Sniper had been paid to kill people for years. Even more annoyingly, the assassin had a gift for somehow making himself appear extremely intimidating when he wanted to. He remembered briefly that the Spy could pull a similar stunt – maybe it had something to do with the two of them being labelled “The Professionals” of the team. Either way, it was pretty fucking creepy. The little Spy, as he had mischievously called him, clutched onto him a little tighter with the tentacles when Sniper stood but otherwise didn’t move, meeting Snipers gaze face on.

The marksman smirked slightly. His own ‘predator instincts’ were telling him that both boy and pet were the nervous ones now.
“No Scout. I’m not afraid of your little Spy.”
“That is good to know.” The Tentaspy replied calmly, maintaining his firm hold on Scout and keeping his cool gaze on Sniper. “I would hate to make man like you nervous, mon ami.” Sniper nodded to the creature and flicked his eyes to Scouts. He relaxed his gaze, posture loosening as he eased from his daunting pretence to his casual stance. The smirk softened.
“Get back to work. You can keep your Tentaspy out the tank, long as he stays on your head.” Scout snorted and adjusted his cap, before hurrying back to work as Sniper resumed picking through the ammo.

The pair worked in comfortable ease after that, the Tentaspy quietly conversing with Scout and occasionally with Sniper when inclined. Sorting through Sniper’s crap, Scout was able to irk some stories from the older man. Quiet made him uneasy so it was better to have a voice in the background then nothing, and Sniper’s stories turned out to be oddly interesting (who knew he actually punched a kangaroo in the face once?) . The bags filled up rapidly and the box was slowly filled, with room for the tank to be snugly slotted in. The time passed surprisingly fast, so it was past dinner when the last bag was tied and the loft was clear of knickknacks.

Scout yawned and stretched.
“Finally! Cleared the room of all your stupid crap!” Sniper just shook his head as Scout returned the Tentaspy to the tank, noticing the level of care he took when handling the creature. Luckily the Tentaspy didn’t put up much resistance as Scout coaxed him in and gave him the food he’d need for the journey. Luckily BLU had some of the fastest trains running; it shouldn’t take more than a day or two at most for them to reach the new base. The tank lid was slammed on, the crate slid shut. The Tentaspy was officially ready to go. Sniper gave Scout a thumbs up as he muttered his thanks, walking to the hatch.

He stopped when a hand was placed on his shoulder. Sniper cleared his throat quietly and muttered lowly in his ear.
“I was wrong.”
“What?” Scout asked, annoyed at the mysterious tone and whispering. Sniper hissed at him to shush.
“Wrong about the Tentaspy. He’s grown faster than I thought he would.” Scout blinked at him. The Tentaspy was now slightly over a foot tall, not including the length of the tentacles.
“So?”
“So, I don’t know what happens next. And it does matter.” He cut off Scout’s interruption before it could occur. The boy frowned stubbornly. “He will become dangerous, far more dangerous than any other Spy you could encounter. And now I can’t say when.”
“It’ll be fine! He’s loyal to us.” Scout smirked at Sniper’s worrying. “You need to get in the sun more, all you ever do is sit up here and get your panties in a twist.” He wisely disappeared before Sniper could grab a hold of his shirt, running off to salvage any scraps from the missed meal.

Sniper sighed heavily. The Tentaspy was loyal – to Scout. He glanced back at the box and followed the runner, hoping the Tentaspy couldn’t hear through both wood and glass.

Elsewhere in the BLU Base

Spy grinned as he moved the cards he held in his hand. It wasn’t a bad hand. Against the Engineer and Medic it would do and if it didn’t, then he could bluff it. He watched as they fiddled with their own cards, Engineer reaching for his drink and Medic rubbing the frame of his glasses. Medic's hand was nothing to worry about. But he couldn't be sure about Engie's.

“Has anyone else noticed that Sniper doesn’t seem to be so easily bothered by Scout anymore?” Spy asked casually, lighting flicking his cigarette to tap away the ash.
“Yes, actually.” Medic didn’t look up from his hand but he frowned slightly at the thought. “He used to tell him to...what was it...‘piss off’ whenever he tried to talk to him. Now he seems to put up with it.”
“Must’ve just gotten used to the boy.” Engie shrugged, putting down his beer and changing two of his cards. Engie and Medic both looked up at that. Medic leaned slightly forward, his perverse curiosity ignited while Engie leaned back, carefully listening.
“Herr Spy. You know something.” Medic was the accuser. Spy shrugged lightly, mischievously feigning naivety.
“I have just noticed that the two seem to spend a lot of time in Snipers nest, lately. Scout seems to think he is the only one who wakes up early – the noise he makes leaving that loft is enough to wake the dead!”

Engie fell backwards on his chair while Medic unequivocally laughed. Engie was quick to set his goggles straight and pick up the chair, glaring at Spy.
“You’re just trying to distract us from the game! Making up cock and bull-“
“Oh I assure you, I’m not lying. Although, you are right about me trying to distract you. Did it work?” Spy smiled, smoke wafting lazily out of his mouth as he talked. Engineer’s glare only darkened as he picked up his hand, not bothering to look up. Medic recovered from his laughter very quickly, eyes gleaming.
“That would explain the strange marks I saw on Scout’s neck and chest. I know the Sniper is an uncivilized man but you would think he would be discrete about leaving love-bites!” Spy snorted.
“Filthy jar man. He probably does it on purpose to ‘mark his territory’, like those animals he adores.”

“Alright, alright.” Engineer huffed. “Maybe the two of them are getting a bit cosy in their spare time. Long as it doesn’t interfere with their work, that’s fine. Now, are we playing cards or are we gossiping like a bunch of women?” Medic pouted slightly and Spy shrugged, laying down his cards.
“Flush.”
Medic tossed out his cards, muttering in German. Engie put his down.
“Four of a kind.” Spy stared and leaned over the table quickly to snatch the cards up, checking them for any evidence of cheating as Engie collected his winnings.





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The train journey to the new base was long and largely uneventful. Most of the team had prepared for a day of travelling and had brought sufficient means to entertain themselves throughout. Scout kept himself busy moving around the train, generally bothering the rest of his team with invitations to card games and chatter (all gave in at least once to the boy’s requests, with varying amounts of resistance and complaints). When they begun to flatly refuse to entertain him, he began to hop from Engineer, to Pyro, to Sniper; the three of them tolerated his presence far more than the rest of the team.

But this being the BLU team, there was bound to be at least one incident. Sniper went into the cargo hold to make sure everything was in order and found Scout attempting to open his crate, probably to free the Tentaspy for a while. Scout froze, as if Sniper wouldn’t see him if he didn’t move. Sniper swore and strode powerfully forward as Scout leapt back, trying to defend his actions in a stream of fast paced speech.
“Look, Snipes, he’s only gonna be out for a couple of minutes. C’mon man, he’s been stuck in there all day, he needs fresh air or something..!”
Not impressed, Sniper grabbed the scruff of the kid’s collar and began to pull him away.
“Bloody hell Scout, use your head! It can handle being alone for a day so wa--“

He was cut off when Scout punched him, the younger shouting about being dragged out. Whether or not Scout was actually trying to punch him is hard to say – he had started struggling, flailing his limbs madly, so it might have just been an accident. Needless to say, Sniper did not appreciate being hit. His grip tightened and he swung round, returning the blow with added interest. His voice gained volume and soon he and Scout were reduced to fighting like schoolboys amongst the freight.

Fights are usually quite noisy and this was no exception. Demo soon heard the commotion and investigated. He wrenched open the door and found Sniper struggling to pin Scout in a headlock, Scout squirming viciously to evade his grasp.
“What the bloody hell?” Demo exclaimed, getting Snipers attention – Scouts, not so much, as he took advantage of the distraction to slip out of Snipers hold and push him onto his hands and knees, leaping onto his back and thrusting his arms around his neck to copy the headlock Sniper had attempted on him. Demo blinked politely as the two continued to grapple, now ignoring him completely, then shrugged and took a deep swig of alcohol.

He leisurely put aside the bottle then gave a hearty battle-cry and joined in, pushing Scout off Sniper and stepping on the Aussie in the process. Both Sniper and Scout shouted in protest at the new combatant, who only laughed richly and tried to punch whoever was closest in the face. This made them all louder, which drew the attention of Heavy, who peered in curiously. The moment he saw the brawling, his expression mirrored that of a child’s on Christmas morning. He laughed, causing Sniper and Scout to freeze (Demo glanced over but kept his tenacious hold on Scout’s arm).
“Why was I not invited to fight? Were you babies scared?”

‘Shitless’ would have been Sniper’s honest reply. He could handle the kid in a bit of roughhousing but adding Demo and Heavy was madness. Unfortunately it was Demo who answered.
“No boyo! We didn’t invite you because you hit like a wee lass!” he taunted. It was all that needed to be said for Heavy to fling himself in the melee, picking up Sniper by the knee and swinging him at Demo. Sniper swore and struggled frantically the moment the Russian grabbed him, and Scout would’ve laughed his head off if Demo hadn’t used him as meat shield to block the human bludgeon.

Thankfully, the next person to appear was Medic. Rather than join in the bedlam, he merely pulled down on one of his gloves, releasing it with a snap. Immediately the four men paused and looked over. Seeing exactly who was there, they immediately began to untangle themselves from each other and break away, all looking quite sheepish. Thankfully, Medic only gave them a warning glare before turning with a dramatic swish of his lab coat and striding off. Demo and Heavy scattered quickly. Sniper still pulled Scout out but not quite as roughly – they were both a bit sore from the unexpected fray.


The rest of the train journey had been uneventful and the ride in the truck was just as boring. But Scout shuddered the moment he stepped off the truck. This new base was fucking cold. The sky was coated with dark grey clouds and seemed to be threatening the new arrivals with the possibility of rain. There was also a constant gust that splashed Scouts bare arms with an icy chill.
“This sucks! Who the hell decided to move us here?” he complained loudly, hugging himself.
“You should have come prepared, boy.” Spy said breezily. Scout spared him a glare - Spy was wearing a thick, sophisticated looking coat, the bastard. Where the fuck he pulled it out from was anyone’s guess, but Scout personally reckoned it might have been lodged up the Frenchman’s ass.

The base was separated from the REDs by chain fences and a large, locked up shed - it would evidently be opened when combat began. An ominous noise hummed from within it, a sort of electronic buzzing. Scout badly wanted to explore and stretch his legs, but Soldier was already barking at them to line up and stand to attention. He moodily took his place in line, rubbing his arms to keep warm. Their belongings were placed in front of them – Scout couldn’t help but glance at Sniper’s box – as Soldier stood before them, waiting for the last container to be set down.

“Listen up ladies! We have suffered from setbacks in the past but here such failures will not be tolerated!” he shouted. The team shuffled their feet and rolled their eyes. It was typical of Soldier to give them a lecture the moment they arrived. “We must remember what Gandhi said: ‘It is better to be violent if there is violence in our hearts, than to put on the cloak of nonviolence to cover impotence’! He may not have known much about war but he knew about violence, as every man should have violence in his heart! And if he doesn’t, then he is weak and is not welcome in my world, which is the world we all live in!”

Quite suddenly he drew his shovel and, with a screaming yell, slammed into Pyro’s crate and ripped the top off, exposing its contents. Pyro shouted from behind his gas mask and started to dive forward but was pushed aside by Soldier, who glanced into the crate and backed away, smiling.
“Cargo check, privates!” He explained, approaching Engie’s crate and prying it open in a gentler manner then he had smashed Pyros. “We need to make sure those filthy maggots haven’t tried to slip anything into our cargo!” He moved down the line and tore open Spy’s, which was unsurprisingly empty.

Scout’s eyes had widened the moment Soldier had leapt at Pyro’s box. He knew that the Tentaspy was going to be found. He looked from Soldier to Sniper, who was looking at his crate and flexing his fingers. Fuck, what could they do? His pet was going to get found and Medic was going to experiment on it and Soldier was going to want to shoot it and Heavy was going to squish it and Soldier is about to open Sniper’s box and the damn crocodile hunter isn’t doing jackshit-!

“Hey!” As Soldier went to drive his shovel into the side of the crate (was it the side with the Tentaspy’s tank?) Scout leapt forward and drew his bat, smashing down on the superior’s weapon so it hit the ground. The boy glared at the man. “Don’t touch the crate, man.” Soldier smirked dangerously, keeping a firm hold on his shovel as he stood and squared off with him.
“Is there something you don’t want us to see in there, private?” Soldier questioned glancing from Scout to Sniper. Sniper clenched his jaw and returned Soldier’s gaze evenly as Scout openly glared, standing as he would in a battle with his bat held ready to strike.

It was Spy and Medic who broke the tense situation. Medic grabbed Sniper from behind, pinning his arms behind his back as Spy seized Scout, a hand applying firm pressure to his throat. Scout swore and would’ve struggled but Spy tested his grip around his neck, causing him to still and quieten.
“I wonder what you would be keeping in Sniper’s box, boy.” Spy cooed derisively, as Medic grinned just as mockingly. Sniper snarled as his arm was twisted uncomfortably behind his back. Soldier laughed brightly, hoisting up his shovel.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be nice and gentle with it, Private Twinkletoes.” The insult was intended for Scout, who tried to thrash free of Spy but underestimated how easily he could be choked. Soldier nodded, seemingly to himself, then thrust the shovel into the side of the crate and opened it forcefully. There was a brief pause as Soldier inspected the crate. Then he turned to Sniper, frowning darkly.
“Why are you bringing a tank to a battlefield?”

Besides Sniper’s personal belongings and his equipment was the Tentaspy tank, sans Tentaspy. Sniper scowled at Soldier.
“None of your business.” He was careful to not add anything beyond what was necessary – such as ‘wanker’ or ’ drongo’. He had enough trouble without pissing off the overzealous sergeant. The Tentaspy had either slipped out or could cloak and right now, Sniper wasn’t sure which was worse. Soldier didn’t like his response but Scout cut in before he could start shouting.
“It’s for catching fish.” He said, ignoring the looks he was getting. “Snipes said he’d show me how to catch some back at 2fort, but he was too scared to go near the water!”

Sniper was quick to catch on thankfully.
“Look, you little hooligan, I told you we’d go fishing if there was no way we’d get shot while we were at it!”
“I brought you the other Sniper’s rifle, didn’t I?”
“No, you tried to give me my own bloody rifle!”
“That’s enough!” Soldier snapped loudly. “Get back into line!” The men rearranged themselves as ordered, some throwing odd looks to Sniper and Scout - rumours spread quickly. “You can go fishing on your own time but this is my time damnit! Besides, there are better things you could be doing, like giving me one hundred press-ups!”
He moved down the line and broke open the remaining crates. Satisfied with his inspection, he waved them off to go to their rooms and settle in.

It was dark already as they picked up their boxes and headed in, working in pairs for some of the heavier loads. Sniper delivered the tank to Scout and the Tentaspy shimmered into view as he was passed over. Scout was immediately relieved that the Tentaspy hadn’t escaped, while Sniper was pleased that it had stayed put. But he was worried – the Tentaspy was growing so rapidly and he didn’t want it to cause any trouble. He kept his concerns to himself though. It was too late to start talking with Scout about such things so he merely bid the boy a good night’s rest and left.

Scout sighed. It had been a long journey and surprisingly stressful too. He kicked the door shut and locked it as always, before tearing off his shirt and flopping onto his bed. He was going to talk to the Tentaspy, finish packing, undress and then pass out on his bed. Instead, he managed a few mumbled words to his inquisitive pet before passing out on his bed...

---------------




----------------

The Tentaspy was surprised when Scout abruptly fell asleep, half dressed and sitting up on his bed. He must’ve been extremely tired, after all the fuss there had been on the way here. He had heard the commotion on the train and had heard the Soldier attacking the other crates – it was why he had quickly cloaked the moment those footsteps drew near. The man hadn’t realised that he had been watched as he looked into the seemingly empty tank.

166 .

>>165
The boy looked angelic despite his dishevelled appearance. Scout had left the curtains undrawn so the room was well lit, clouds drifting across the moon and painting soft shadows. Colour had drained from the room in the night, leaving it in shades of black and white. It was a surreal perspective making the room seem like something from a dream and, coupled with dozing, half-dressed Scout on the bed; the image was incredibly enticing to the Tentaspy.

He quickly slipped out of his tank. He had spent the entire day in there and it was becoming too cramped for him anyway. He needed more room to spread his limbs, flexing and curling his tentacles as he stretched his arms. He quickly crawled over the floor, using the dangling sheet to pull himself up onto the bed. Scout only snored slightly, hands occasionally twitching in sleep. The Tentaspy was fast in reaching the sleeper and settling on his lap, leaning against his warm stomach and sighing happily.

He remained like that for a few minutes, nestled comfortably. He just listened to the quiet of the night coupled with the slight noises from Scout. The Tentaspy’s limbs slipped over Scout’s skin, hungry for the smooth warmth, tracing the muscles underneath. The hybrid held back moans at the contact, gently nipping at Scout’s stomach as his tentacles slid under the undone trousers and past the boy’s underwear, searching for more warm skin.

When Scout is extremely tired, he dreams. Well, everyone dreams, but when Scout is exhausted his dreams become extremely vivid and outlandish. So after such a long journey, it’s only natural that he would be dreaming such a dream now...He was in Sniper’s loft - to be more specific, the loft in the old base, as he had yet to see the new nest Sniper had claimed here. It was sunrise or sunset, the sky beyond the windows that deep blue it became when the sun was absent.

The Tentaspy hummed to itself, the tentacles winding about Scout’s privates. He had seen them before of course (Scout had never been shy when dressing and undressing) but he had never felt them before. Scout would always pluck him away from his midsection if the tentacles strayed too close. The Tentaspy relished in this forbidden feel, exploring eagerly. His tendrils wound slowly over the shaft and scrotum.

Water was everywhere, soaking his ankles and lower calves. That was pretty weird, Scout had no idea how the loft could be flooded since the water should seep down the hatch and into the rest of the base. He heard a coughing noise and saw Sniper, striding towards him as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

The Tentaspy drew deep breaths as he curled around the balls and shaft. He looked down curiously though, as the flesh in his tentacles began to change – it was getting firmer, longer and thicker. As it did that, Scout’s breathing seemed to change too.

Scout glared at Sniper. The man’s expression was hidden – fucking shades, he doesn’t even need to wear them right now - but there was something about him that wasn’t right. Scout couldn’t place what was different even as Sniper loomed over him, stopping just an inch away from him.

The Tentaspy focused on the part of Scout that changed, coiling around it as it stiffened. He applied his suckers carefully onto the skin, turning himself around so he could inspect Scout’s cock closely. He leaned forward curiously, eyes glittering as he wound and unwound his tentacles around it.

“Bloody ankle biter.” Sniper snarled.
“What?” Scout asked, not fazed by the Australians tone. Instead of answering, Sniper grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into a rough kiss.

Scout was beginning to make soft noises and the Tentaspy loved them. He had to turn again, curving his body so he could watch Scout’s lips move smoothly over the sleepy mumbles. He silently cursed that he couldn’t see and touch all of him at the same time.

Scout didn’t even attempt to dissuade the sharpshooter. He let the kiss continue, feeling Snipers teeth grow more jagged with his tongue. Something wet was circling his legs, creeping up his calves. A pair of arms wrapped around him possessively.

The Tentaspy turned back to the object in his hold. Stretching out curiously, he placed a hand firmly on the fleshy head, toying with it gently to absorb the texture and heat. His tentacles slipped slowly over the base of the erect dick he was petting, reaching Scout’s balls too.

It took a moment for Scout to register that the figure before him wasn’t Sniper. In a brief parting he saw that a balaclava obscured the person’s face, a blue suit covering their body. Tentacles replaced the man’s legs and hips. The fully grown Tentaspy kissed him repeatedly.

Scout shuddered as the Tentaspy in his lap began to stroke him with keen interest. The flesh had stopped growing now. It was about half his size, reaching up to his midsection. The Tentaspy couldn’t help but wrap his hands around it in an affectionate hug, before continuing with his petting.

He clearly wasn’t very observant in his subconscious. It took Scout a good minute or so to notice that someone was approaching from behind him. He broke away from the Tentaspy to look over his shoulder – it was Sniper again, striding towards him with eyes hidden by sunglasses.

He ran his hands over the head, lingering at the slit. The Tentaspy listened carefully, memorising what actions evoked what noises. He continued to map Scout’s reactions, stroking, squeezing and pulling as best he could at the large, heavy penis.

Sniper didn’t say anything but swathed the boy’s waist with his arms, breathing hotly against his cheek. The Tentaspy also drew close again, nuzzling his collarbone and apparently unbothered by the intrusion. Scout closed and opened his eyes slowly – he just couldn’t seem to react fast.

The Tentaspy lowered his hands, lifting his body so his tentacles could clasp over Scouts cock again. He was careful as he held Scout as tightly as he could without causing pain, suckers planting onto the shaft with the tips of his tendrils pressing onto the glistening head.

They were pressing either side of him, both possessively gripping him – the Sniper was holding and rubbing his arms muttering lowly in his ear; the Tentaspy lightly scratching his back and chest, murmuring sweetly in his other ear. It felt good. Real good.

The Tentaspy couldn’t help but purr. Scout was squirming, oh so pleasurably as he tasted him with his suckers. All the movements were instinctual, the Tentaspy just knew what to do. He applied gentle pressure in wave-like ebbs down Scout’s erection, by flexing the tentacles one after the other. Scout’s noises were getting slightly louder now as his continued to slowly writhe.

The complete contrasts were mesmerising. Snipers smooth, rough strokes and warm, unrefined voice made the Tentaspys soft, jagged caresses and cool, suave vocals all the more potent, and vice versa. Scout groaned needily, unable to move his body. He merely stood, head leaned back as they lavished him with touches and whispers.

Scout cried out wordlessly, arching his body suddenly. The Tentaspy swiftly caught the white strands as Scout came onto his tentacles and, feeling Scout’s arms shift, he quickly slid off Scout’s lap and feigned sleep. Scout’s eyes bolted open, darting around the monochrome room. He took a few moments to look around, catching his breath. No words came to his mind as he recounted the dream, running a hand through his hair. The only conclusion he could reach was; fuck the dream, he needed more sleep.

It was as he went to flop onto his side that he felt the Tentaspy. He barely restrained himself from shouting out by covering his mouth with his own hand, still jumping slightly. As he calmed down, he watched the Tentaspy, noticing the way the tentacles coiled around themselves in a motion that reminded him of someone washing their hands. He gave a long, quiet groan. It was too late for any of this crap. Fucking dream.

Rather than try and put the Tentaspy into the tank Scout carefully picked it up and put it on his pillow, saving a corner for himself to use. He slipped under the covers and quickly fell asleep again. The Tentaspy opened his eyes slowly. Seeing that Scout was unconscious, he mutely crawled to lie closer to him and fell asleep himself, tentacles toying with the blonde’s hair and pressing gently against the back of his neck.

167 .

>>165
>>166

Yeesss, thank you so much!

168 .

>>165
>>166

Oh man, I really like this one. You said "what I have of it"; do you mean that there is more to it that you didn't save, or that the author left it unfinished?

169 .

If anyone has "water" by Corvine, I'm dying to read it again. Nobody seems to have it!

170 .

>>169
I have it, but it's a thread-filler (read: fucking huge). If you email me I can send you the archive files.

171 .

>>165
>>166

Oh man, thanks a bunch.

172 .

>>170

Would you be willing to post a mediafire link with those files?

173 .

>>172
http://www.mediafire.com/?31avae29dz6f58k

174 .

This post has been deleted.

175 .

This post has been deleted.

176 .

>>173

You da best.

177 .

>>168
It was unfinished last I saw of it. I'm not sure if the author had more of it because I sorta wandered away from the board for a while.

178 .

So we had in the old good chan several fanfics with the subject: The Team meets the Team. The glorios beginning of all this.
There were two in progress. The one with medic who says he doesn´t work for a woman ( i found it hilarious) and Scout who has a issue with Soldier, because Soldier reminds him of his dad. But i believe this two scene are from the same fic. Still i liked both fics. Someone got it? Or maybe they got reposted and i just missed it?

179 .

>>178
Oh, I remember that fic, or at least the part where Scout had the issue with Soldier.
I believe that was written by several bears?

Speaking of The Team Meets the Team, does anyone have the /complete/ version by Exac?
I'm aware that it's already been posted but the poster has left it incomplete, which is a damn shame since the story was amazing.
I'm pretty sure the last chapter ended on a cliffhanger with Scout being blown up by stickybombs.

180 .

There was this one fic where the Medic had made a pet or slave or something out of the Sniper. The Scout and Sniper didn't get on and there was one scene where the Engineer was kind of babysitting the Sniper. The Spy on the other team ended up befriending the Sniper and giving him his knife. Not sure if it was ever updated after that. Ringing any bells?

181 .

Disregard that, I suck cocks. It's already been posted.

182 .

I can't seem to find Cat Bountry's "With Apologies to Stephen King" anywhere. I'd love to reread it. Anyone have it?

183 .

>>182
Here you go!


Opening his bleary eyes, Sniper awoke the same way that he had for the past six months; in quiet desperation, hoping that the previous day had only just been a horrible dream. The low, throbbing pain in his legs was the first indication that no, he had not been dreaming. He didn’t even bother lifting the blanket to check on them, as he knew exactly what was underneath; twin, mangled pillars of flesh, wrapped in gauze and bandage wraps with no splints. He’d probably never be able to walk again, with the minimal treatment he had been given. Here, there were no dispensers, no mediguns with their cool, invigorating fumes that would wash over and renew him in a red, healing cloud. Hell, there didn’t seem to be any indication such things ever existed here. Here, there was only misery and torment… and her.

Her.

His eyes narrowed, and his head lolled back into the pillow. He listened for her, for any sounds that might indicate her presence in the house. He was hardly aware he was holding his breath, until he let it out. The house seemed to be empty. Either that, or she could be asleep. He looked over to the window and squinted. Given the position of the sun in the sky, it was about 8 AM. It was also a Saturday, though, so she probably was sleeping in. Not like he was seriously considering trying to venture out of the bed again. She kept the wheelchair locked away in the hall closet, where it stayed, no doubt gathering dust. It hadn’t seen the light of day in months, not since his last venture with it.

He scooted back on the bed, pushing himself up on his forearms and palms so that he was sitting upright. He reached over to the nightstand, and pawed for his aviators. She liked it when he wore them. Normally, that would be enough motivation for him to never wear them again, but he was afraid of incurring her wrath. He felt pathetic, really. It was his own fault, he supposed, trusting a strange woman whose bedroom he had materialized in when Engineer’s teleporter had malfunctioned. Not only had he been transported into the future, but apparently into another dimension, one where he was a fictional character. It caused something of an existential crisis for him. He remembered how lit up her face was upon seeing him, and how upon being told where and who he was, he simply sat upon her bed, sinking into the mattress and trying to process it all. And she hadn’t even cared. She just stood there, yammering on about things that he barely understood while he stared at the floor between his feet and wondered how he would ever get back home.

He felt that familiar tightness in his bladder and groped for an empty jar. She always made sure that there were plenty in his room. No bedpans or catheters for him, but fortunately no diapers either. He unscrewed the lid, scooted his body off to the far side of the bed, and adjusted himself properly. The first few times he had to do this he nearly fell off the bed, and ended up spilling urine on the floor, and was punished for it. Since then, he was always very careful about making a mess, especially just after he woke up. Giving himself a quick shake, he placed the filled jar down on the floor gently, and plucked up the lid. His arm swooped down over the jar and bumped it. He watched with mounting horror as it wobbled, his eyes growing wide and his skin becoming slick with a chilling sweat, and sucked in his breath sharply as he lashed out a hand to catch it. The jar settled into place, and the urine inside sloshed around less and less until it settled completely.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he carefully took the jar in his hand and screwed the lid back on tightly. He then lifted it up and placed it on the nightstand, handling it as one might handle a porcelain doll. Satisfied that the jar wasn’t going to go anywhere, he scooted back to the center of the bed, hissing in pain as his legs collided with each other. He had to move them, however. The thought of getting bedsores terrified him, and she certainly wasn’t going to come in every few hours and turn him over. He took a deep breath and tossed the sheets off of himself, exposing his atrophied legs.

It hurt to move them. But the last thing he wanted was to have them stick to the sheets. He gripped his right thigh, just above the knee, and slowly set it up so that his heel was propped up onto the frame at the foot of the bed. He tried to flex his gnarled muscles, but this only caused him to wince in pain. He did the same with his other leg, so that now both of his legs were no longer touching the bed. It felt good to have some air underneath his thighs. He settled back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. He wondered if the other members of RED missed him at all. He wanted to imagine Engineer trying to fix the teleporter, staying up late in his workshop to try and get Sniper back. It had been so long, though, that Sniper thought maybe Engineer forgot, or gave up. They probably had him replaced. That thought hurt him more than his legs did. He missed them all so badly… Engineer, Demoman, Scout, Soldier, Pyro, Heavy, Medic, even the bloody Spy. Listening to the group of them bicker and fight amongst each other would be heaven compared to this.

He wasn’t sure how long he was lying there, staring heavenward, when he heard her alarm go off. He felt every muscle in his body grow tense in anticipation. He could hear the alarm being shut off, and the sounds of her weight shifting on her bed. It wouldn’t be long before she came in, and there was no telling what kind of mood she’d be in. Whatever mood it was, no doubt Sniper would be feeling the brunt of it. He braced himself, as the sound of her bare footfalls on carpet moved closer and closer to his room.
The door opened, and she stood in the doorway, that same, oversized, weathered band t-shirt she used as pajamas hugging her rotund body, stopping not even halfway down her plump thighs. Her hair was short and brown, sticking up in places where she had slept on it funny. She scratched her head, and yawned.

“Good morning, Snipes,” she drawled. “Sleep well?”

“Yes’m,” he murmured. She was sleepy, at least. As long as he behaved himself, he thought, he ought to be okay.

“What was that?” she asked, sounding slightly more alert as she walked over to his nightstand.

“Yes, ma’am,” he enunciated more clearly. “Slept just fine, ma’am.”

“That’s good,” she said, picking up his jar and tucking it under her arm. “That’s a good boy.” With her free hand, she petted the top of his head, and then scratched under his chin, which he lifted for her without even being told. “Who’s a good boy?”

Sniper hesitated before answering. “Me,” he said flatly. “I’m…I’m a good boy.”

“Yes, you are,” she said, and hummed pleasantly. “I bet you’re hungry. Do you want breakfast?”

“Yes, please, ma’am,” he said.

“Good,” she said, and planted a quick kiss on his forehead. “I’ll go make us some breakfast, then.” She giggled girlishly, and sashayed out of the door, shaking her butt as she scampered off.

As if it missed its cue, Sniper’s stomach growled once she was out of sight. He was hungry, and she did manage to make food that was decent, at least. That was probably the only positive about being kept here, but to say that it made up for anything was so laughable it was insulting. Or at least it would be, if Sniper had it in him to laugh anymore.

She had seemed nice enough, at first; eager to show off everything in her world, lots of generally unimpressive gadgets that Sniper had seen some variation of in that weird fruit hospital place with all the shiny white gizmos that the weird time-traveling wizard bloke in the black turtleneck had brought to them a while back. She dragged him around all sorts of insipid places a teenage girl would be interested in, insisting on taking him shopping for clothes, showing him movies, even showing him the weird little computer game that he came from, and expressing confusion when he was no longer appearing in it. He did recognize his teammates, however, and that recognition made his skin crawl when he saw it. Her quirks, however, were becoming too much…she was possessive over him, not willing to help him figure out what had caused the teleporter malfunction and simply chalking it up to a lightning strike outside of her home. Every time a cute girl would show interest in him, she would intervene and take the poor bird aside, and suddenly they’d be looking at him oddly and back off. When he finally lost his patience with her and told her to back off and help him get back home, that’s when everything fell apart. He was about to leave her house when he felt something blunt collide with the back of his head, and when he woke up, he had been tied down to the bed, lying helpless as she stood over him with a sledgehammer.

Just thinking about it made his legs hurt again. He could hear her in the kitchen, singing off-key to herself. It was one of those cruddy pop songs she liked so much, but he dared not even speak less than fondly of. To be honest, he didn’t really care for most of the music that she listened to on that dinky little iPod thing. But did she ever care to ask Sniper what he liked? Of course not. He smirked, a sour, joyless smile that flickered onto his face for an instant before disappearing again. What a petty complaint, considering everything else she’d done. Then again, being in a situation like this had a funny way of warping one’s perspective.

It didn’t take her too long to come back in his room, humming to herself as she carried a breakfast tray over to his bed, placing it over his thighs. Bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, pancakes and orange juice… all in all, pretty good breakfast. There was, however, also a bowl of that sugary cereal crap she seemed so fond of pushing on him, and he eyed it with disdain.

“There you go,” she cooed, “I expect to see you eat it all up.”

“Thanks, ma’am,” he said with a nod.

“You’re welcome, Snipes,” she said, and bent down to give him another kiss on his cheek.
He hated that nickname. Scout would call him that sometimes whenever he felt like being a dick, but she used that nickname as a token of affection. It used to make his stomach churn a bit when she used it, but nowadays he had just grown numb.

He ate his breakfast at a leisurely pace. Given that meals were the only thing he had to look forward to during the course of the day, he made sure to savor them. That, and being denied meals as punishment was not uncommon. It had been a good while since the last time that happened, and he wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be happening again anytime soon.

After clearing his plate and downing the glass of orange juice, he was left with only the cereal. For whatever reason, she decided that it would be cute if he liked it. It was kid’s cereal, the kind that had those bland, dried-up marshmallows in it. He had eaten it once, when she had left him home alone, before things went bad, and due to him not really being able to cook very well as well as being very hungry, he ended up settling on that box. This had endeared her for some reason beyond his comprehension, and nowadays she made sure that it would be included in all of his breakfasts. He was full enough, really. He didn’t want to eat it. But it sat there on the tray, the grainy bits of it soaking in milk, and the marshmallows becoming bloated and soggy. How tempting would it be, to just throw the bowl against the wall, or maybe against her head. He wondered if he could kill her with that blow. He could drag himself out of bed, across the floor, find a phone and call the police… He’d probably never be able to make it back home, and he’d be stuck in a place where he didn’t even technically exist, but he wouldn’t be anywhere near her anymore.
Carefully, he lifted the ceramic bowl in both hands, and stared at it. He couldn’t seriously be considering this. If he failed, no doubt she would punish him horribly, and he’d spend days, perhaps even weeks in agony. She didn’t tolerate defiance of any kind. His hands were shaking with dread, as images ran through his mind of what she might do if he missed.

No, he thought. The bowl was too light to kill her. Even if he managed to hit her in the back of the head, it’d probably just bounce off and piss her off more. The most he could manage would to give her a concussion, if he was lucky. Certainly not enough to snuff her. Figures, he thought. All the times he tried to stab her with the fork and knife she gave him didn’t work out either.

Just as he was deep in his reverie, the door opened. “Hey, Snipes!” she said, startling him and causing him to lose his grip on the full bowl. “How was your break-” she was cut off when the bowl toppled out of Sniper’s large hands, and spilled onto the floor below, rolling across the carpet briefly before overturning and stopping. He looked down, his pulse in his ears drowning out all other sound, as the carpet soaked up the milk. Slowly, he lifted his head and looked back up at her again, her expression now grim, any hint of the jovial façade that she put on earlier erased.

“I-” He stammered, looking back to the floor, then back to her, then the floor again. “I…I’m sorry, ma’am, I dinnit’…I dinnit’ mean t’-”

“You’ve made a mess,” she said, her voice coming out in a flat, dull monotone.

“You… you startled me,” he whimpered. God, he hated himself. Six months ago he would have never sounded like this to anyone, not even if he were captured and being interrogated by that bastard BLU Spy. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, it wos an accident…”

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t even look at him, just staring at the bowl on the floor. Without a word, she bent down and picked up the bowl, and carried it out. Sniper felt a cold ball of ice in the pit of his stomach, helpless to move or try to avoid whatever she had in store. She came back again, with paper towels, and silently worked on trying to soak up the milk and pick up the bits of toasted oats and marshmallow. He watched her, and found himself unable to move, only following her with his eyes and remembering to breathe. She left the room again, and came back with a bottle of carpet shampoo. Christ, Sniper thought. She was doing this on purpose. She was scrubbing the spot where the milk fell, and she spoke again.

“Your room is going to smell,” she said. “Hope you like sour milk stench.”

Sniper wasn’t sure if he should relax or not. Sarcasm was not much of a reliable indicator as to what would happen next. He became acutely aware that his legs were aching again, and he tried not to tremble too much as she finished up. She left the room again, and Sniper hugged his arms. He could hear her fishing around in one of the drawers in the kitchen. He found himself trembling. Oh fuck, not the knives, he thought. Please not the knives, anything but the knives…

She came back in the room, holding a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Sniper wasn’t sure what to make of it. She hated smoking, and when he first came here, she would make him smoke outside and tell him about how he could get lung cancer and all sorts of other nasty diseases from it. He hadn’t had a smoke in so long, he almost forgot how much he missed it. But like Pavlov’s dog, he felt that old itch for nicotine. She unwrapped the carton, pulled out a fag, twirled it between her fingers briefly, and sighed.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” she said. “You’re a real handful, you know that?”

He watched her handle the cigarette between her chubby fingers. His own fingers twitched nervously, and he folded them underneath his palms hoping she wouldn’t notice.

“Is it too much to ask, for you to be neat and quiet and not make a mess of things?” she asked. She noticed Sniper’s eyes were focused on the cigarette, and smirked. “You want this?”

He didn’t know how he should respond. If he said no, he’d be lying, and she didn’t like to be lied to, but if he said yes… it was probably a trick. Maybe she’d let him have it. He had to answer quickly, as she looked as though she were losing patience.

“I said, ‘do you want this?’”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” he admitted. “I would like that very much.”

“I don’t know if you deserve it,” she said. “You made me have to clean up that mess I made. I’ll be late for work now. Boss man’ll chew me out for not showing up on time.”

Sniper fidgeted. “I said I was very sorry, ma’am,” he said, bowing his head.

“I don’t like how you call me ‘ma’am’ all the time, either” she said. “Too impersonal.”

“Just bein’ polite, ma’am,” Sniper said.

“You should call me something else,” she said. “Like a nickname or something. Something that says you love me. You do love me, don’t you?”

Nausea started to take hold of his guts. “Of course I do, luv,” he said.

“‘Luv!’” She squealed like a piglet, her mood changing so fast that Sniper felt as though he had gotten whiplash. “I love that! Call me that again!”

“Yes, luv,” he said. This was humiliating, he thought. What he wouldn’t give to have his weapons back.

She squealed again. Sniper winced at the sound, and she threw herself onto him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him on the cheek. Sniper felt slightly relieved. He didn’t particularly care for her being affectionate, but it was much, much better than her being angry.

“Ooooh, that’s just the best!” she gushed. “When I come back, we should watch something together! Maybe a Disney movie. Would you like that?”

“Sure, luv,” he said, squirming a big under her grip. “D’you… think I could have that cigarette now, please?”

All the energy that she had so quickly acquired drained from her, and her arms felt like lead weights on his shoulders. She pulled back, her hands still upon him, and he could see her face had resumed the stern expression she had before. He tried not to panic, but his eyes still darted around, looking uselessly for some means of escape.

“Who said you were going to get it?” she asked flatly.

“I-I thought you were gonna…”

She threw him back onto the bed, so that he was lying on his back. No, no, no, this was going all wrong. Why had he even said anything? He should have known better than to speak out of turn. He dared not move, and he watched as she took the cigarette she had removed from the carton, and lit it. Instead of putting it to her lips, she watched it burn, and sat on the bed.

“I keep telling you, smoking is bad for you,” she said. “But you never listen to anything I say, now do you?”

If he argued that point, it would only cause more hurting. “I’m sorry, luv,” he said.

“You always say you’re sorry,” she said. “I don’t even know if you mean it.”

“I-I do mean it,” he stuttered. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I said I wos.”

Her face scrunched up in a scowl. She then lunged forward, and Sniper let out a startled screech, as he felt an acute, searing burn on his nipple. He realized, as he looked down at his bare chest and noticed the fresh, sizzling burn on his sensitive skin, that she had ground the cigarette against his flesh. He panted, and scooted away from her with a hand covered his wounded chest, as she stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

Sniper listened for anymore sounds, and closed his eyes when he heard the jingling of her keys and the front door shutting and locking. He had gotten off easy this time, and he had certainly suffered worse injuries, but this was different. This was degrading. With her gone for the day, he’s have nothing to do but to lie in bed. He wasn’t allowed out of the room unsupervised, obviously.

With nothing to do, he was left alone to his thoughts. He’d daydream about escape, about killing his captor, about finding his way home and making it back to Sawmill or Dustbowl or 2fort or wherever his team happened to be stationed, to be welcomed back with open arms and told how much he was missed. Every hour or so, he would change his position on the bed, flip over, or otherwise make sure that he wouldn’t develop some kind of rash from lying in unwashed sheets for too long, but also trying to avoid lying on his burnt nipple. Before too long, he drifted off to sleep again. As he dreamed, he was back in Australia, and driving on his way to his mum and dad’s house in Adelaide, but when he pulled up to where their house was, it was missing. In fact, there was no sign of it ever being there at all, and instead there was a large, black, gaping hole in the ground where the little red house once stood. He leaned over it, peering down inside, and could feel a cool wind blowing up from the hole, blowing away his hat. He tried to grab for it, but he lost his footing, and fell forward, down into the inky blackness of the bottomless pit.

He woke up with a snort. Bad dream again. He shifted on the bed, and noticed his aviators were in his curled fingers. He put them on, and groaned. Bad dreams weren’t very pleasant, but at the very least, he didn’t have a good dream. Good dreams were the worst. There was nothing more depressing than waking up from a good dream in this little room, with his broken legs and his bruised and violated body. He checked the window again. The sun was not longer visible, and it looked to be about early in the evening. She’d be home soon. It was only a matter of time.

Sure enough, he heard the sound of her car pulling up outside, and listened for the door to unlock. Hopefully she’d treat that burn she gave him earlier. With her, he could never be sure.

“I’m home!” she said, her voice adopting the sing-song tone of some 1950’s sitcom husband. The door shut behind her, and her sneakers could be heard tromping up to his room. She opened the door, and her face lit up when she saw him. “There you are!” she said, as though she had been expecting him to be anywhere but where she left him last. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, luv,” he lied. His nipple didn’t bother him as much as it did earlier, but it still stung like hell. “How was your day?”

“Ugh, my boss!” she said, throwing up her hands in frustration. “He’s such an asshole, I swear to God! He never lets me handle the bigger clients, I always have to work in a group of amateurs! Nobody ever listens to my ideas. I think they’re just jealous, though.”

“Of course they are, luv,” he said, nodding. He begged silently that she would at least put some kind of bandage and antiseptic on his chest, but actually bringing that to her attention would be risking it.

“At least you think I’m great,” she said, and sat on the bed, far too close to his legs for comfort. “You’ll always love me, won’t you, Sniper?” She reached out to stroke his cheek, and he tried not to shake too much.

“Yes, luv,” he said.

“Yes, luv, you’ll what?” she asked, gripping his chin between her forefinger and thumb.

“Yes, luv, I’ll always love you.”

“Good boy,” she said, scratched under his chin. “Give me a kiss.”

Not wanting to ruin her good mood, he leaned forward and gave her a quick peck on her cheek. She smiled and giggled, and ruffled his unwashed hair affectionately.

“Oh, my,” she said. “I think somebody needs another bath.”

He felt a jolt as she said that. Out of all the demeaning things she had put him through, he dreaded baths. They had started out with her simply stripping him down, scrubbing his naked body and giggling over seeing his penis, but she had since grown much, much bolder. If she was feeling randy at all, it was bath time. It was very rare that she had ever gotten naked with him, but that didn’t stop the clumsy groping and molestation. She had tried to make him penetrate her, or do anything at all to her really. He never pressed the issue, anyway. For all her dirty talk about how much he supposedly wanted her tits and her ass, she was downright prudish when it came to herself. That didn’t stop her from grabbing at his genitals, however, but Sniper imagined if he tried to grab her breast, he’d be punished for it. He had no desire to fuck her anyhow, which made bath time all the more degrading.

“I’ll go run it,” she said, trying to sound as flirty as possible. “Don’t go anywhere, now!” She laughed at her own wit.

He groaned, and held his head in his hands. He did not want to go through with this. Not tonight. Not ever again. He closed his eyes, flopped down on the bed, and he prayed to whatever God he thought might be listening to get him out of there, or just end it all. Strike him down with a sudden fatal heart attack, something, anything but this.

It was then his ears picked upon a sound that he hadn’t heard in months, a familiar, swooshing, metallic sound. No, it couldn’t be… it had to be just her game, right? It couldn’t possibly be…

He looked up, and was greeted by a flash of red. Standing in the room, looking very confused, was RED team’s Scout, with a length of rope tied around his waist. The rope disappeared into a spot of red beneath the Scout. He looked around the room, still disorientated from the teleportation, before he finally saw Sniper lying in the bed, shirtless and covered in bruises and more scars than when he had disappeared.

“Sniper?”

“Scout?” Sniper asked in disbelief. “Is… is that you, mate?”

“Yeah, it’s fuckin’ me!” he said. “But Jesus, where are we?”

“Oh God…” he said, unable to hold back tears of happiness. He threw off the sheets from his mangled legs, exposing them to the younger man, before he forgot that he couldn’t get up off the bed to hobble towards him. “Oh Christ, I thought I’d never see you again.”

“The hell’s goin’ on?” asked Scout. “Who the hell did this to you, man?”

“She did this t’ me! We need t’ get outta here!” said Sniper. “Quickly, before she comes back!”

“Before who comes back?” Scout asked.

The door to Sniper’s room flew open, and Scout turned around, only to be propelled backwards by an arrow fired into his shoulder and pinned him against the wall. Sniper let out a startled cry, and watched helplessly as she pulled another arrow from the quiver on her back.

“Oh God, what the fuck, lady!” Scout cried, clutching his wounded shoulder.

“I don’t like Scout as much,” she said flatly. “They should have sent Engineer.”

“You crazy bitch, what the hell is wrong with you?” Scout shouted. “What the hell have you done to Sniper?”

She didn’t answer. She loomed over the wounded young man, watching him struggle, she noticed the rope around his waist, and the red portal on the floor. She tossed the arrow aside for the moment, and reached into the sheath of Sniper’s kukri, pulling out the long, wide blade. Scout tried to pull the arrow out of his shoulder in vain as he watched her take the taut rope in her grip. She raised the blade above her head, and Sniper, who was just a captive audience to this scene unfolding before him, started to shake his head.

“Oh God, no, please, no…” he pleaded with her. “Please don’t, just send him back, please.”

She stared at Sniper, her eyes burning like coals in a fire. She brought down the blade, hacking through the rope in one swift blow, and watched the rope fall limp on the floor just short of the portal. She moved to kick the rope back in when the room flashed red again, and a different figure materialized before her.

There, holding his Shovel in hand and looking just as confused as the Scout was Soldier, with the same length of rope tied around his waist. He looked down at the woman before him from under his helmet, his blue eyes wide and bulging. “Who are you?” he barked. “Are you a BLU?”

She screeched at him, and swung the kukri wildly at him. Soldier, however, dodged the blade, and swung his shovel so that the broadside of the spade smacked her on the side of her head, sending her flying into the wall. She slid down it, falling to her knees for a moment, while Soldier stood, gripping and wringing the entrenching tool in both hands.

“If it’s a fight you want, sister, then I’m ready to give it to you,” he snarled. He then hawked up a wad of phlegm, and spit on the floor. “C’mon. Get up and fight me, Rotunda!”
Incensed, she sprung to her feet, and screamed at him as she ran towards him. Soldier screamed in response, and she charged into him, sending the American backwards and onto Sniper’s bed, right on top of his legs. Sniper howled in pain, and hastily covered his mouth, as Soldier managed to kick her back into the wall. She let out a “woof” as the wind was knocked out of her lungs, and collided with the wall again. Soldier sprung off the bed and pounced on her, bringing his Shovel down only to have it blocked by the kukri.

Meanwhile, Scout managed to dislodge the arrow from his shoulder, pulling it out with a shout of pain. Soldier cast a quick glance in the younger man’s direction. “Quick, get him out of here, private!” Soldier hollered.

Scout nodded, and swooped over to Sniper’s bed, grabbing him roughly by the arm and dragging him towards the portal. Sniper yelped in pain as his feet hit the floor. Scout was obviously having trouble carrying the taller man, and waited over the portal as Soldier struggled with her. Scout held the rope that Soldier was attached to and started tugging on it frantically, and the sound of the teleporter firing up filled both of their ears. Sniper clung onto Scout for dear life, and closed his eyes as it grew louder and everything flashed red.

“SNIPER IS BACK!” a familiar voice rumbled.

Sniper looked up. He blinked a few times, and saw the other members of RED team huddled just inside the supply room. It was Heavy who had spoken, and he was the first to lift Sniper into his giant arms and nearly crush the man to death in a overly friendly bear hug. “Doktor, look! Leetle Sniper has returned!”

“Heavy, put him down!” said Medic. “He’s injured!”

“Sorry,” said Heavy, and carried Sniper off to lie him down on one of the benches.

“Whuurrt hurrrpurrned?” Pyro asked, looking at Sniper’s legs in concern.

“Some crazy bitch had kidnapped him or somethin’,” said Scout, opening the supply locker and rummaging for a first aid kit. “She’s in there fightin’ with Soldier.”

“Who on earth would want to kidnap ze Sniper?” asked Spy.

“Some fat chick,” said Scout, opening up the first aid kit. “I think she’s the one who fucked up his legs, man.”

Medic unwrapped Sniper’s slipshod dressings, and examined his legs. “Ach, vat happened to you? Zese look like zey vere broken several times ovah.”

“That’s… that’s exactly what happened,” said Sniper, as Demoman handed him a bottle of Scrumpy. “Thanks, mate.”

“Think nothin’ o’ it,” said Demoman. “Is she still o’er there? I’ll pluck her eyeballs out o’ ‘er head an’ roast ‘em like marshmallows!”

“Please, don’t mention marshmallows t’ me ever again,” Sniper moaned.

“Th’ rift can’t stay stable fer much longer!” Engineer announced, frantically looking from his PDA to the teleporter. “If Soldier don’t git back soon, he’s gonna be stuck over there!”

“Aw man, I ain’t goin’ back there,” said Scout, as Pyro helped him wrap up his injured shoulder. “She’s off her fuckin’ rocker man. She’s givin’ Soldier a run for his money!”

“Lemme in there!” Demoman hollered. “I’ll feckin’ murder her until there ain’t nothin’ left tae murder!”

“Demoman, you are stayin’ right where you are!” Engineer shouted back. “We can’t afford t’ lose anybody else!”

“But you can afford to lose Soldier?” Spy asked sardonically.

“You shut it, Spah, that ain’t what I meant!”

The teleporter started to spin again, and all eyes turned expectantly towards it. The lights in the base flickered, as the power required to power the inter-dimensional portal drained on the facility. Engineer grew panicky, coaxing the machine to keep going. Just as the room flashed red, the lights went out, enveloping the entire base in darkness.

“… Soldier?” Engineer asked, removing his goggles from his face to better see in what little light there was. “You there?”

The backup generator switched on, and the fluorescent lights came back to life. Soldier stood, clutching an arrow wound in his side, wobbling as he tried to stay standing. “Soldier, reporting for duty, sir,” he said. “Mission accomplished.” He then collapsed onto the floor, where Medic rushed to his aid, pulling out the arrow and dousing him with the healing gas of the medigun.

“Yeah, use it on him, not on me,” Scout said.

“Your vounds ah not as severe,” said Medic. “Herr Soldier should be fine, as long as he gets some rest.”

“Vhat about Sniper?” Heavy asked.

Medic sighed. “Given zat his injuries vere not treated for so long… it vill be a much longer recovery, und ze Medigun can only do so much. Ve could try to see if respawn has his information logged from before he disappeared…”

“That’s goin’ back a long ways, Doc,” said Engineer. “You think we can do that?”

“Ve must try,” said Medic. “Or Herr Sniper may be crippled for life. Heavy, bring him to ze infirmary for me, bitte.”

“Da, Doktor,” said Heavy, and lifted Sniper up in his arms. It was everything Sniper could do not to start bawling like a spinster at a wedding. He was safe again. He was back with RED team, and he had finally woken up from the months-long nightmare of being trapped with her. No longer was he her personal puppy, no longer was he her castrated doll for her to play with and abuse at her leisure. He was finally free. And right now, that counted more than anything.

“Sniper!” Heavy shouted. “Sniper!”

He looked up at him. “Wot d’ya want?” he asked.

“Sniper, get up!”

He awoke with a start.

He was lying on his back again. He could feel the warmth of Heavy’s arms fade, and as he turned his head, he saw her looking over him.

“I’m sorry, Snipes,” she said. “You just drifted off to sleep while I was getting ready. You look so cute when you’re sleeping.”

He just stared at her slack-jawed. “You’re making me hafta run the bath again,” she said. “If I wasn’t in such a good mood, you’d be in trouble for that.”

He watched as she sauntered off. The rescue in his head felt so vivid this time, so unmistakably real... he slumped forward, and stared at his hands, his fingers curled up like dead insects in his lap.

He brought his hands to his face, and cried.

184 .

> 183
Oh jesus. How did I not know of this fic's existence before?
It's WONDERFUL.

185 .

183
Blech. That as much of an uncomfortable read as Misery was. Doesn't make either of them bad, just...brr. Can't imagine acting the way these women to do someone I suposedly loved/admired.

186 .

>>183

Thank you so much, Hybrid. You're a darling.

187 .

>>183

Oh god, this seems vaguely familiar...I remember reading this one terribad fanfiction called 'Adventures With Brody and Sniper' that was very similar to this. Minus the Misery references, of course.
It had the whole lighting strike teleportation, him having to live with a fangirl, and being stuck in her world. There was a bunch of other little things too, that I don't want to get into too much detail about but are eerily similar to that story.
I don't know, it was just something that I couldn't help but notice.

188 .

>>187

The basic premise was based on a fic that Cat found on ff.net and decided to parody, so perhaps you read the original?

189 .

Compared to 'Adventures With Brody and Sniper', most of the OC/TF2 stories on FF are much, much worse now...

Thanks Hybrid for posting!

190 .

183
I was meaning to repost this with a different ending, actually.

You can leave it up. I'm still working on it on and off.

191 .

Oooh is it gonna have a happier ending?

192 .

191
MAYBE.

193 .

Drag that wench back into the TF2 world. I wanna see how high she holds herself when surrounded by eight pissed-off men wielding buckshot, rocket launchers, miniguns.

Pretty please with sugar on top?

194 .

Asking for Doghouse again, if anyone happens to have it ( it was the prostitute AU ). I kind of need it for academic reasons. Seriously. /essay writing

195 .

>>187

More than likely.
Throughout the story I couldn't help but think, "Okay, I KNOW I read something like this before!"
It took me a while to put my finger on it, though.

>>189

Oh lord, I know. That's why I tend to avoid any fics with an OC in it just for that reason...

196 .

does anyone have this story, i think It had been a kink request.
the pairing was girl!Heavy and scout and heavy literally picking up the scout to take back to her room

adn does anyone know if the author is still writing it?

197 .

>>127
You know what would be cool? Someone reading this out loud as scout. That would be hilarious.

198 .

>>197 Ya know. I´m tempted to read one day a "dramatic reading" of one of the stories. But my voice is kinda weird and then it would have my horrible german accent, so i dunno. But wasn´t there already one reading with the story? (man i miss the Scout Stories. I´m kinda sad, that it the author left it all by this cliffhanger.)

199 .

>>198 The accent would make it even better.

200 .

>>198
Horrible German accent you say?
I'M IN.

201 .

Does anyone have that one fic where Scout finds out Spy is his dad and scout abuses and has sex with him? They play catch in the beginning I think...I'm not sure what the fic is called

202 .

Hey, does anyone remember that one fic with Medic and Sniper? The one where Medic goes out for a smoke and finds Sniper out there, drunk. When Medic takes Sniper back to his room, Sniper moans about how lonely he is and Medic procedes to give him a handy. Then Sniper finds Medic's ciggs in his bed the next mourning and yells at Spy about it. And all the while, Medic is fretting terribly about what he did.

I found that fic delightful and would like to know if it was ever finished. And if not, does anyone have the beginning?

203 .

The one with the Scout/Spy as his dad is called Scout/Spy Wincest. I totally saved it before the crash! If you want it I got it :D

204 .

>>203
Different annon here, but please upload it! :)

205 .

I can't remember for the life of me who wrote this, but the chan asked for it and I shall upload it! Enjoy the wincest my friends!

Pt 1

“Fuck, Spy,” Scout’s voice came out rough and laboured. His grip on Spy’s hips tightened, long fingers digging into tense muscle and a sharp hipbone. “F-fuck, Spy, how do ya always make me do this?”

Spy’s breath was not ragged, simply because he was holding it. He’d let it out when Scout wasn’t paying attention. Better to deny the boy the satisfaction of knowing just how much this was affecting him. Fortunately for him, a second after he thought this, Scout let out a long groan and a flurry of cuss-riddled dialogue, punctuated perfectly with gasps. Spy very slowly let out his breath, being very careful not to let Scout feel it on his body. He kept his muscles tense and his exhale silent, and the combined sounds of Scout’s frenzied babbling and the bed creaking and hitting the wall covered his exhale successfully.

As he went to take another careful breath, he found that this time he truly could not. Scout gave another yank on the tie still fastened around Spy’s neck. The silk closed tightly around Spy throat, and despite his self-control and gentle breathing, he let out an embarrassing choked noise.

Scout smirked, and Spy knew that he had been found out. His arms collapsed as he slid down to lean on his elbows and buried his face in Scout’s pillow in embarrassment. Scout would have none of that, though. He yanked hard on the tie, jerking Spy’s head up.

“Thought you could handle this, eh?” Scout’s grin could not have gotten any wider. “You got real loose right there. Can’t get that shit past me, man. Every time you move even a little, I can feel it.” He snickered. “Ain’t a fuckin’ ninja or whatever, like you thought you were.”

Spy had a snarky comment, something sly and clever that would shut Scout up without a doubt, when he tried to spit it out, it came out as nothing more than a strangled whine. Scout had taken up his end of Spy’s tie again and pulled it taut to silence him.

“Shut the fuck up, Spy,” he laughed again. He brought a hand down to give Spy’s ass a slap and pulled his hips back again. He snapped his hips forward at a pace only a twitchy teenager like himself could manage.

“Spy,” Scout said after a moment of silence, broken only by the creaking of the mattress, and the sound of Spy struggling to force oxygen past his constricted trachea. “Fuck, Spy, fuck, man, i-is... is my ma a better lay than me, ya slimy rat?”

He allowed enough slack on the tie for Spy to answer. The second his throat was granted mercy, Spy gulped down the now-available air desperately. Spy’s body contracted and relaxed with his gasps, and Scout gave a groan at the sensation. His grip on Spy’s hips and the grinding of his own hips against Spy’s backside only got rougher.

“I cannot compare you to your mother,” he said, his voice breaking on the second syllable of the final word. Scout could not have been smugger. Spy pushed away his crumbling composure and tried to settle back into the groove of being superior and suave like he was supposed to be. “Not in that way at least, mon cher. You are a man and she is a woman, and she has certain... qualities that you lack.”

Scout snorted. “You don’t like fuckin’ my ma as much as you like gettin’ fucked by me, so you can shut that smart fuckin’ mouth’a yours.”

Spy laughed his horrible nasally oh-so-French laugh. “And ‘ow would you know that, petit lapin?”

“Last time I was up visiting, my ma told me.”

“...Quoi?”

“Last time I visited, I asked her about ‘that guy she’s been seeing.’ She talks about you a lot, y’know.” Scout smiled bitterly. “She said that the guy she’s been seeing seemed pretty bored with her for the past couple’a months.” His smile turned smug again. “Said it was like he had a new girl.”

“I-is that so?”

“Yeah. A couple’a months... Ain’t that like how long we’ve been fucking?”

“That seems about right.”

“She told me a lot of things about you. Like how you’re the guy she cheated on my dad with. Or, at least, the guy I thought was my dad.”

“...Scout, don’t-”

“Yeah, she cheated on the guy she was married to with you, and when ya knocked her up, ya took off. Slimy and sneaky like always, huh?”

Spy sputtered silently for a moment, searching for some lie or reassurance he could feed to Scout. When he turned to look over his shoulder, the look on the boy’s face told him that he would not weaken on this. Spy’s well-crafted lies would not lead him away from the truth this time. He cursed under his breath.

“Why would she tell you?!” Spy wanted to rip his hair out in frustration. He crawled forward as best he could, but before he could manage to shuffle forwards on his hands and knees even an inch, Scout jerked him back by the tie. He gave Spy another warning smack on the ass and shifted his hips slightly to pull out and push roughly back inside of him. He tugged the tie hard again, forcing Spy up and off the mattress onto his knees.

“Naw, Spy. I’ve lived all’a my life without a dad, and now I find out that my dad’s been killin’ me an’ my friends over an’ over again for the past three years.” He ground his cock into Spy again and reached up to tangle his fingers in Spy’s brown-red hair, pulling his head back. Their blues eyes mirrored each other. The edges out Scout’s were crinkled with his grin. Spy’s were wide with surprised and mild terror.
“Nah, you bailed out on my whole life so far, so now... you’re gonna be the best fuckin’ daddy any kid could ask for.”

206 .

I dunno if theres more but this is all I got.
Pt 2

“...you cannot be serious.”

“Fuck you, Spy.” Scout spat a gob of saliva down into the sand and bent down, poised in a perfect batting pose. “Throw the ball over the plate.”

“But, mon coeur, I ‘ave not played baseball in a good few years.”

“I don’t fuckin’ care if ya ain’t played in a few hundred fuckin’ years, ya queer.” He jogged on the spot a few steps, then stopped and returned to his stance. “Throw the fuckin’ ball.”

“All I am saying is that it will be embarrassing.”

“I don’t fuckin’ care. Throw the ball ‘fore I beat ya fuckin’ face in. It’s not like ya can look any gayer’n ya always do.” Scout snickered at his own joke. “Might even look a bit more manly if ya played a real fuckin’ dude sport instead’a godamn swordfightin’ an’ poodle-groomin’ an’ whatever other faggy shit ya do for fun over in Frogville.”

Spy rolled his eyes. “It is called fencing, mon cher, and it is not me I am worried about embarrassing. If you saw me play baseball, you would be truly ashamed to be my son.”

“Oh, like anyone’ll know you’re my fuckin’ dad.”

“’Fucking’ dad, indeed.” Spy said with a chuckle.

“You’re not funny. Ya don’t even look a lil’ bit like me. Nobody’ll ever guess.”

“Ah, non.” Spy shook his head, tossing the worn baseball from hand to hand. It made a sound as the ball smacked the bare skin. “You ‘ave my eyes, mon bijou.”

“Bullshit.”

“Vraiment. Your mother’s eyes are much darker.”

Scout scowled. “Can it, cockfag. And cut the fuckin’ pet names and French shit out too or I’ll knock ya fuckin’ block off. Don’t need to hear that fairy shit all the fuckin’ time. S’bad enough ya do it when we fuck.”

“Ah, but I know ‘ow much of an effect it ‘as on you.” Spy said, musing. “Secretly, you love it.”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth ‘fore I shut it for ya. Throw the damn ball.”

“Oh, could not divert you from the situation at hand?”

“You’re damn fuckin’ right. Pretend you’re less French and throw the fuckin’ ball. I don’t care how much ya suck at baseball. Just do it’n quit bitchin.’ You’re worse than a fuckin’ chick sometimes. My girl back home is less whiny than you.”

“Your ‘girl back home’ is also made up, mon petit lapin.”

“I ain’t ya fuckin’ bunny, douchenozzle. An’ Debbi fuckin’ exists. She just don’t have time to write me back ‘cause she’s busy with college ‘n stuff.”

Spy gave a snort of laughter. “Busy with college? The closest she could get to being ‘busy with college’ would be if she was participating in orgies with a group of frat boys.”

“Shut your trap, Spy. You’re the last person who can call anyone a slut. Throw the fuckin’ ball.”

“Oh, but I so love holding your balls, Scout.”

“You’re fuckin’ hilarious.” Scout said without so much as a smirk to quirk his lip. “Throw it.” His fingers tightened on the handle of his bat. Not the one he used to beat in skulls, but close enough. He gave a demonstration swing. “C’mon, man. Right here.”

Spy gave a sigh and said; “If you insist, mon amour.”

“Yeah, I do, fag. Do good here an’ maybe I’ll let ya have ya hands untied when I fuck ya later.”

“You’re so generous.” Spy said dryly.

Scout tapped the home plate with his bat twice, then bent back into his pose. “C’mon, Spy. Don’t make me use the ‘d’ word.”

Spy shuddered and shook his head. He reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes, slicking it back against his scalp. He fretfully scratched at his wrists where his gloves should have been, desperate to cover as much skin as possible. Having people see so much of his bare flesh had been the entire reason he had objected to this off-base trip. But, Scout had argued, it was not as if he was going to see any of the strangers he might see ever again or have them recognize him and say ‘hey! You’re the RED Spy!’ With much bitching on his part and relentless pestering from Scout he had been coaxed off the base to the baseball diamond in the nearest town. He promised Scout an afternoon of one-on-one pitching and hitting. Scout said it was all dicking around because it was just the two of them, but he accepted that that was as good as it was going to get.

The second they got off base they stopped at the first gas station they found and changed into civilian clothes. Scout’s were not much different than his work uniform; he took off his hand wraps, tucked his dog tags inside his shirt, took off his headset, and left his bag in the truck. Spy’s change had been much more dramatic, as most of the outfit actually belonged to Scout. He had obviously removed his mask and gloves. The only item that remained from his uniform was his cigarette case and his balisong. He had switched the top half of his suit with a short-sleeved button-down dress shirt that was pale blue in color, paired with a navy blue pinstriped tie very similar to the BLU Spy’s. These were the only articles of ‘formal’ clothing that Scout had allowed his mother to send with him to BLU. (He had shown up at the base wearing it the first day before he received his uniform. It had been tossed into the closet at the end of the day and had been there ever since.) Spy had originally intended in wearing his suit minus his mask and gloves, but Scout had told him he’d look like a creeper and had forced him into the blue shirt, tie, and a pair of black slacks. He had tried to weasel out of the situation by telling Scout that the shirt was too small and that it would never fit him. It was indeed a bit tight around the shoulders and pectorals, but Scout had brushed it off, telling him he looked hotter in a tighter shirt anyways, shoved him back into the truck (RED Engie’s, on loan) and ordered him to suck it up and keep driving.

When they arrived, the park was vacant except for three small children and a woman on the playground just outside the baseball diamond’s fence. Whenever the woman caught snippets of Scout’s loud, foul language, she threw him a dirty look and returned to monitoring her children. By the time Spy reeled back in a fairly good impersonation of a pitcher’s throwing pose, she had shepherded the three children away from the park and Scout’s extreme vulgarity, supposedly in an effort to salvage what she could of their young, impressionable minds.

After a few more curses and shouts of ‘hurry it up, asshat!’ from Scout, Spy let his first pitch fly. It flew wide, way out of Scout’s bat’s range. This earned him a raucous reprimand and a bat near-flung at his head. He settled Scout down and wound up for his second pitch.

When throwing the second pitch he made a point to throw more gently to avoid repeating his first mistake. The ball hit the ground at least three feet short of the plate and rolled to a stop a Scout’s feet. Scout gazed down at the ball with a cocked eyebrow, then looked up at Spy and blinked twice. Spy turned away and gave an irritated huff, which instantly sent Scout in fits of violent laughter.

“Oh. My God, man!” Scout howled, his words punctuated perfectly by laughter. By this point, he had dropped his bat and doubled over, clutching at his side and roaring with laughter.

“And just ’ow is this funny?” Spy grumbled.

Scout settled down after a moment, thought he was still wearing his usual douchebag grin when he answered. “You’re fuckin’ good at everything else, and the one thing I’m good at is the one thing ya suck at! This is fuckin’ awesome!”

Deciding that arguing Scout’s point was far more trouble than it was worth, Spy instead heaved a sigh and held his hands out. “Throw the ball back, petit.”

Scout smirked at Spy one last time, then stooped down to pick up the ball. He lobbed it underhand to Spy, who caught it easily. Scout started to laugh again and Spy huffed.

“What is it this time?”

“Nothin,’ man. Just noticed how ya can’t pitch to save ya life, but catchin’ don’t seem to be much of a problem for ya.”

“Oh, hon hon hon. You are truly a comedian, mon amour.”

“Sure am. Gonna throw it, or what?”

“Only if you can ‘andle the thought of me pitching.”

“You won’t last much longer. This is ya last chance, n’ then it’s my turn.”

“Tragic.” Spy said, and let the last of the three fly. He aimed over the plate as best he could and threw it with all the force he could muster. He heard a noise of impact and thought that perhaps Scout had hit this one. To his surprise, Scout had not flung his bat aside and taken off towards the first base. His bat was, as predicted, on the ground beside him, but he was sitting on the ground behind the plate with his hands over his face. The blood running from between Scout’s fingers and the muffled curses flying from his mouth were enough to clue Spy in to what had happened.

He raised his hand out to Scout and took two steps closer. “Scout...”

Scout’s open palm flew out as a gesture for Spy to stay away. His other hand remained holding his face. “Fuck off!”

Spy shook his head and advanced on Scout further. He dropped into a crouch and reached out to take Scout’s hand and pull it away from his face. Scout’s other hand smacked his away and he spat out another ‘no! Fuck you!’

“Ge-“ Scout’s eyes shot open and his tear-glazed glare was fierce enough to melt through steel. “Scout. Let me see it.”

“No. It’s fine. I told ya not to call me by my name.”

“I didn’t, mon cher. Now if you would just let me see-“

“Go fuck yourself, Spy. You were gonna. I don’t call you dad or your name, so don’t call me by my fuckin’ name. It’s creepy.”

“Oui, oui. Whatever you want, chéri, just let me see your face.” His hand went for Scout’s again. Expecting Scout to hit him, Spy was surprised to hear him heave a sigh and lower his hand from his nose and mouth. The only visible broken skin was Scout’s swollen and busted lip, and when he turned to spit blood and saliva from his mouth, he spat what looked like a tooth out as well.

Scout scowled when Spy did nothing but stare at his injuries. “Well?”

“’Well,’ what?”

“Ain’t ya gonna apologize?”

“Non. You deserved it.” Spy shrugged and straightened up on his feet again. He busied himself with lighting a cigarette. “You should ‘ave moved out of the way.”

Silence fell between them for a moment, until Scout smirked and said; “Awright. If that’s what how ya wanna play it...”

“Quoi?”

Scout extended a hand towards Spy. “C’mon, fag. Help me up.”

Spy eyed the proffered hand suspiciously. “I am not so sure I want to.”

“Quit bein’ an ass, Spy. Help me out here.”

Spy’s eyes never left Scout’s hand as he moved forward and reached down to take it. For a moment, nothing happened, and Spy thought that Scout had truly wanted nothing more than a hand getting to his feet.

Then that smirk grew ever more devious and Spy felt himself being jerked harshly forward. He thought he would tumble over on top of Scout, but the boy moved to the side at the last second. After he had landed on the dusty ground, he tried to bring his hands up and push himself up, but before he had a chance, Scout swung his leg over to straddle him.

He took a seat on the small of Spy’s back and wrenched one arm back by the wrist. When Spy continued to squirm and growl what were no doubt an impressive array of French cusses, Scout just pushed his face into the dirt with a hand placed on the back of his head.

“P-pourquoi?” Spy said, spitting sand out onto the ground that was already marked with droplets of Scout’s blood.

Scout just grinned. “Ya deserved that. You should have moved out of the way.”

Spy wanted to hiss back a malicious response in any language of the many he spoke fluently, but froze when he felt something sharp stabbing at a spot just beneath his left shoulder blade. “I certainly hope that is your erection.”

Scout laughed when he felt Spy tense. “Too bad for you, it ain’t.” He adjusted Spy’s balisong to press it more firmly against him. “Now, respawn don’t exist here, so unless ya wanna become a fuckin’ pinstriped pincushion, you’re gonna do what I tell ya. When I get up off your back, you’re gonna get up too. Don’t run away or nothin,’ ‘cause I’ll chase ya down, motherfucker.” He prodded at Spy’s back with the knife. “Then we’re gonna walk real slow over to the dugout there, ‘n I’m gonna fuck ya nice n’ rough till you’re screamin’ and cryin.’”
--

207 .

Thanks for the Scout/Spy Wincest upload! there is more but i'm glad someone had some of it :)

208 .

>>205

Well hey there, fic I wrote ages ago! And only two chapters? WELL. I can help out here!

Contrary to my update consistency, I AM still working on this. I've got six chapters for you guys right now, but once I get more new stuff I'll make a new thread for it. Enjoy!

--
Chapter 3, beta'd by cancel




Scout’s nose didn’t stop bleeding until after he’d dragged Spy to his feet and marched him off to the dugout. He returned the favour by rather forcefully smashing Spy’s face into a post as he swung open the chain-link gate and shoved Spy inside.

Spy whipped around to try and take the knife from Scout, but instead earned a punch to the face for his troubles and a faceful of chain-link as Scout wrenched his arms up behind his back. The knife pressed between his shoulder blades again and Scout’s hot breath reddened his ear when he laughed softly.

“Nice try, daddy,” he bit Spy’s earlobe and received a yelp of pain in response. “But you little Scooty don’t play that way. That was a dirty stunt you pulled there, and when ya make dirty plays in baseball, ya get your ass benched.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen!” But Scout just smashed him into the fence again. “Scout! What do you want from me?!”

Wrenched off the fence by the hand on his shoulder and one tangled in his hair, Spy’s babbled protests went ignored. Spy tripped over a cleated shoe nudge in behind his heel and went tumbling to the ground. As he has up and attempted to push himself up, the dirt underneath him ground into the palms of his hands and the seat of his pants.

When Scout’s weight came down on Spy’s chest and he felt his arms pushed into the ground by Scout’s knees, Spy’s struggles returned with renewed vigour. Scout settled into a crouch over Spy’s chest, effectively halting any further struggles.

Spy heard the unzipping of Scout’s pants and slammed his eyes shut, resuming his weak squirming, fish-like flailing, and whole-body flopping.

“Hey. Turn this way.” Scout said, and Spy steadfastly turned his face away. Scout placed a hand on his cheek and applied gentle but firm pressure.

“Và te faire foutre!” Spy spat, and turned to bite Scout’s hand. Scout jerked the bitten hand back with a yelp. He scowled and brought it back to strike Spy’s cheek hard, knocking his head to the side and leaving an angry red mark. Next he hooked his thumb in Spy’s lip to his cheek and wrenched on it, pulling Spy’s head up.

Scout grinned at his captive, who by now was thrashing bodily in an attempt to buck Scout off. He sucked his cheek in to pull Scout’s thumb tight against his teeth and gnashed them together desperately to try and bite the boy. Scout just yanked on his cheek again.

“Open ya mouth.” Scout said, and when Spy growled out a slurred ‘laisse moi tranquille, sa petit enculé!’ he just gave Spy’s cheek another sharp pull. “Open up. An’ if bite down, I’ll introduce ya to the business end of ya own knife. I’m fucking serious, frog, so don’t even fucking think about it.”

Spy was tempted. Very tempted. But he didn’t really feel like dying and ruining what had been, up until that point, a pretty good day. Instead he opened his mouth reluctantly. Before he even had a chance to hiss out a few delightful French obscenities, he had a mouthful of cock alongside Scout’s thumb that still held him by the tender inside of his cheek.

Scout let out a long breath that was almost a low groan. “Use your tongue on me.” He said. He brought his free hand down to cup the back of Spy’s skull and eased his head up a bit. Because of how Scout was crouched hovering over his shoulders, this motion forced Scout in deeper and it wasn’t long before Spy’s breathing was cut off entirely. He began flailing and squirming.

Scout grunted when he felt his tip bump against the back of Spy’s throat and he tipped his head back and panted shamelessly. Spy’s tongue was working desperately at his underside, and the sensations were so overwhelming that he almost missed Spy’s muffled cries and the panicked way he struggled.

As soon as he felt the admittedly delicious feeling of the muscles in Spy’s throat fluttering frantically, he pulled back. Hacks a coughs and snarls of Scout’s name – his given name – peppered with French curses flew from Spy’s mouth hoarsely. It was to the point where Scout thought he might never shut up when the words dissolved into incomprehensible coughs.

“You about done?” He asked, rolling his eyes with impatience.

Spy just stared. “Que?” he croaked.

“You totally ruinin’ the mood.”

“...the mood?”

“Yeah. Here I was, feelin’ like real fuckin’ hot porn star and then you had to go and fuck it up.”

“You’re a monster!”

“I think you mean ‘badass motherfucker.’ But you’re close.”

“Badass fatherfucker.”

“If you’re makin’ jokes, ya can’t be too pissed off at me.”

“Non. In order to keep up with your sexual appetite, I lost my gag reflex months ago.”

“Nah. Didn’t need it for spyin’ anyways. Better off without it, really.”

“Oui. But do you know what I do need for spying?”

“What?”

“Oxygen.”

“Oh.” Scout paused a moment, then shrugged and said; “But ya got oxygen now, right?”

“Oui.”

“Then do me a favour and shut the fuck up.”

Before Spy could voice the witty remark teetering on the tip of his tongue, Scout’s thumb slid into the inside of his cheek again and he was once against occupied by a mouthful of cock. In an effort to avoid being choked by Scout, Spy started sucking as best he could with Scout’s thumb still in his mouth. Scout soon realized that his thumb was hindering Spy’s suction, and so he withdrew his thumb, instead tangling his hand in Spy’s hair.

Now that he had the ability to do so, Spy began sucking enthusiastically. He even went so far as to incorporate as much of head-bobbing movement as he could manage with Scout holding him down.

By the time Scout started bucking and twitching, Spy’s throat was burning and aching from the frequent stretching. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t dealt with before, but that really didn’t make it any more pleasant.

Much to Spy’s relief, Scout pulled back then, and he gulped down oxygen at a feverish pace. Scout crawled off of Spy and went digging into the pocket of his pants. After pulling a few candy bar wrappers and some lint from his pockets (with gratuitous swearing each time he pulled out a piece of garbage) Scout finally managed to fish out the square, biconcave item he had been looking for. He bit down on one corner of the condom’s wrapper and set to work undoing his belt and tugging his pants down.

Once his pants were bunched up at his knees and the rubber was rolled down over the condom, he hefted Spy’s legs up and allowed them to rest on his shoulders. From here he undid Spy’s belt and yanked his pants down, just enough to gain access to his ass and cock. As a last-minute thought, he also used Spy’s belt to bind his wrists together.

As usual, Scout pushed roughly into Spy with little more warning that a mumbled ‘here goes.’ In one fluid motion, he was balls-deep in the Frenchman, whose breathing had already picked up again in response to the pain. Scout never prepared him. In the months that they’d been fucking, Scout had never done it, and Spy doubted he ever would.

Spy teeth remained gritted and his jaw even tensed visibly when Scout pulled out and shoved carelessly back in. He felt like he was being torn apart, but still he knew that if he complained or let out so much as a gasp of pain, Scout would just go faster and harder.

Though Spy struggled to stay silent and made sure not to express the sensations racing through his nerves, Scout was the opposite. He had leaned down to more or less bend Spy in half and was babbling incoherent curses into his ear. It was truly a surprise (and the result of a good amount of luck) that no-one happened to walk by. With how loud Scout was, anyone within a good block or two of the dugout could’ve heard him.

“F-fuck!” He yelped. “Fuck, Spy, fuck – just! Spy, dad, just say somethin’, or I’ll give you a smack upside ya fuckin’ head!”

It was a moment before Spy gave any sort of response. It took Scout hitting him twice before he growled out his words: “Don’t call me dad. You make me feel like a dirty old man when you do that.”

Scout smirked wryly. “That’s ‘cause you are a dirty ol’ man.”

Spy made to make a clever comment but Scout chose to speed up the snaps of his hips. His no-doubt condescending and probably hilarious remarked dissolved into breathless moans and gasps of French praises as Scout took him. He didn’t need to know what the words meant to know that he was doing something really good.

“You like that, frog? Ya want more? More’a my cock?”

Spy nodded shakily and pushed his hips back down on Scout as hard as he could managed.

“Nah, man. Say it. Say you want my dick.” Scout smirked. “Beg me for it.”

“There is no way that you can ‘onestly expect me to do that. I have zis thing – perhaps you have heard of it – it is called ‘dignity.’ It is a good things, I can assure you, and it is also something zat I ‘ave quite a fondn-“ His voice caught in his throat when Scout ground into him and took his damp-tipped cock in hand. He gave it a squeeze.

“You’re gonna do it. You’re gonna do it, and you’re gonna make it real hot.” His thrusts slowed to shallow little dips of his hips. Though Scout wasn’t brushing his prostate anymore (or doing much of anything, really) the ache of Scout’s cock stretching out his insides was enough to drive Spy crazy. It was the kind of slow, agonizing burn that Scout knew made Spy desperate.

“S-s’il vous plait...” He said and gasped when Scout gave him a smack and said ‘in English, fag.’ Still, Spy could not for the life of him grasp his knowledge of the English language, so instead instead his pleas got only louder. “Ça va te plaire, Scout... ç-ça va te plaire! Geo-“

The backhand across the face had stung more than Spy cared to admit, but it was not entirely unexpected. Spy always wanted to call Scout by his given name, but Scout told him he was a creepy old bastard and hit him until he stopped calling him that. Even before finding out Spy was his father and they had only been lovers, Scout had always refused to call Spy by his given name. Too eerie. This time was no different.

“Spy!” He said and gave Spy another smack, with a bit less force this time. “Ya call me by my name again an’ I swear to whatever big scary God you worship that I will leave you here tied up an’ go back to base without you.”

That was it. The light to the fuse. Spy had had enough of Scout’s selfishness and the domineering way he ran their relationship. Spy was a mature adult and he didn’t need some kid shoving him down and ordering him around, in bed or otherwise.

“Do you know just what you can do, Geoffrey?” Spy said. Scout’s eyes bugged out a bit, but for once he said nothing. “You can go ahead and do that. Take the keys to the truck that you don’t know how to drive and drive it back to the base that you don’t know how to get back to you and leave behind the father that you don’t know how to treat with respect. Quite frankly, I think I’d rather not be near a son who treats me as if I’m not a human being.” He scoffed and spay blood from his mouth that had been accumulating through all of Scout’s abuse. “So go on. Do it. I implore you. In fact, I dare you to do it.”

Scout barely took a second to absorb Spy’s tirade before launching off into one of his own. “Yeah, well, I’ve had enough of you treatin’ me like a kid, Spy. I ain’t ya soon, even if it’s biological or whatever. You split from my ma when she needed help raisin’ me n’ my brothas, an’ I won’t forgive ya for that. I’d treat ya like a person if ya were one. You’re just a goddamn spy, good for nothin’ but lyin’ and cheatin’ and ruinin’ lives.”

Spy attempted to stutter out a less-than-sophisticated response, but all he managed was a babbled few syllables. Scout pulled out of him with next to no consideration. Spy let out a yelp and a bit of a dwindling whine at the new, empty feeling.

It wasn’t until Scout moved up off of him to crouch over him like he had done before and gripped the side of his head, forcing him to face forward that he found that he could not move his arms. He remembered that his arms had been bound with his own belt. He squirmed around a bit and spat out some protests, but it was no use. Scout just kneeled over him, straining erection jutting out dark and hard as a rock. From the evil grin on Scout’s face, he knew what was coming next.

When he saw Scout reach down to peel off the condom and grip himself, pumping ferociously, he closed his eyes and turned his head away. Scout brought his free hand down and gripped the side of his head, forcing him to face forward. He heard nothing more than the obscene skin-on-skin noise that Scout’s hand made as it worked at his cock frantically. On occasion, he could detect the heaviness of Scout’s breathing and the frequent curses tumbling from his throat. The sound of Scout’s hand grew slicker with time as precum dribbled from his tip and helped the act along. Before too long, Scout’s sounds went up a step or two and Spy braced himself. He knew the signs.

In the following few seconds, hot ropes of cum struck his face, making Spy groan and try to turn away. Scout’s hand on his face did not allow him to do so though. It globbed up under his eyes and nostrils, catching in his eyelashes and eyebrows. Scout never seemed to be done either. Just as he slowed down and his spurts weakened, he would tug another jet out, then another, then another. By this time settled in thick blobs in his hair and he could feel it growing tacky against his cheeks and mouth.

He didn’t try to move until Scout stood from his crouching position. He heard the sound of Scout’s cleats upturning gravel as he walked. As time went by, the sounds got quieter. Spy registered this instantly.

“Scout!” He shouted and received no reply. The footsteps continued. “Scout! Scout, where are you going?!”

The footsteps paused. “Since when did you care where I go? You’re actually actin’ like a real dad, now!”

“How very out of character of me.”

“Yeah!” Scout laughed. “’That Spy is a Spy!’”

“Very funny.” Spy scowled. “But off-topic. Where are you going?”

“Nowhere too bad, daddy. I won’t get in no trouble. I promise. Might even learn somethin’.”

“Learn something?”

“Yeah. How to drive a truck. I’ll tell Hardhat thanks for you.”



--


Chapter 4, un-beta'd


“-and that, gentlemen, is why, this week, the real enemy is not BLU. L’Administrateur said that we must do this, and now this is what our week will be devoted to.”

“Are you sure, Spah? Somehow, this don’t seem right...”

“I can assure you, Monsieur Ingénieur, these are orders directly from L’Administrateur ‘erself. We are to put our full effort into this, starting tomorrow morning.” When Engineer started again, Spy interrupted him. “In-base, I do not care ‘ow you feel about this, but on the field you are expected to adapt to this change and kill without hesitation.”

“C’mon, E ngie!” Scout clapped Engineer roughly on the back a couple times. “He’ll just respawn anyway, right? Ain’t no reason to hesitate!” Scout shouted, pumping his fist in the air. “Hell yeah! Killin’ BLU over an’ over again all week! Gonna be sweet!”

“Do NOT talk like that, MAGGOT! This new mission is NOT for your enjoyment and should NOT be taken lightly! This is an official mission, OBVIOUSLY issued by the superior officers at RED ITSELF! No amount of RECKLESS TEENAGE TOMFOOLERY can result in our failure! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!”

Scout rolled his eyes. “Crystal clear, Cap’n Crunch.”

Soldier leaned to reach around Sniper to get Shovel from his alphabetically-correct chair between Scout and Sniper.

Scout jerked up ramrod-straight in his chair and saluted stiffly. “SIR, YES SIR!”

“I dinnae understan’ whot it is we’re doin’ this foor... whot’d the lad doo?” Demo said.

“’E ‘as disclosed secrets of ‘is job with BLU to ‘is mother. Our dear Administrateur caught wind of this and became very agitated. She called me to a private meeting to pass this message along to me so that I may tell you fine gentlemen to do this in order to try and frighten the boy into silence.”

“So wot? Spend th’week scarin’ the kid up till he shuts his mouth, an’ then wot?” Sniper asked.

Spy pulled a cigarette from the inside pocket of his jacket and lit it. “Business as usual,” He said, smoke drifting from his lips as he spoke.

“An’ wot if ‘e don’ shut up?”

“Oh, ‘e will.” Spy took another deep drag and had to turn away from the team as he exhaled. Most of the group thought it was out of courtesy not to blow smoke at them (though they had never known Spy to be so pleasant) or dramatic effect or something. What they didn’t see was the toothy, sinister grin he had to turn to hide from his team, lest they question his sanity moreso than usual. “’E will not know what ‘it ‘im.”


--

Chapter 5, beta'd by cancel


Scout’s heart pounded in his ears, racing ahead of the tune of the music pouring from his earbuds. On the way back from the baseball diamond, Scout had stopped at the same gas station as before to change into his uniform and grab a snack.

While trying to decide on which kind of bubble gum he wanted to buy, he had spotted a white package sitting on the counter. Upon further inspection, he found that it was a package containing these really slick-looking earphones. He was impressed by how small they were, so he bought them. They had to be more aerodynamic (or whatever) than his clunky old headset, right? Engie had even built him a little pocket radio that streamed in a station from the next town over!

***

Shifting the straps of the RED intel slung onto his back, Scout bounded down the stairs three at a time and splashed forward into the sewers. He’d only met the RED Pyro, who waddled off shortly after dealing him a pretty severe burn. That said, he was doing really well, as he hadn’t seen anyone else, RED or BLU since he’d run across the bridge. He silently thanked Solly for his newest idiotic war tactic as he ran, since that had to be keeping all the REDs occupied.

He came to the midway point in the sewers and swung up onto the step to grab the medpack that he knew would be there. The Pyro’s fire had gone out, but extra health was never a bad idea. He froze when he saw what sat on the ledge instead of the medpack.

“M-ma?” He squeaked. There indeed sat his mother, legs crossed at the knee and hands folded in her lap. Her hair was perfectly-styled, as usual, and she wore the blue ribbon that Scout had sent her the first Christmas he’d been on base. She sat in what appeared to be one of the chairs from the dining room. The RED dining room. Scout narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on his gun. This was obviously Spy, but why? “What’re you doin’ here, ma?”

“I just came to visit you, kiddo.” She smiled warmly at him and rose from her chair carefully. She ran her hands down her dress to smooth it out, then stood up straight and gazed at her son. Scout looked her in the eye, pale blue meeting its darker self. “Am I not allowed to visit my little boy?”

“Naw, ma, you’re allowed. It’s just... unexpected, is all.” He lowered his gun a bit, curious as to what Spy was going to do. “So uh... how’ve you been?”

“Oh, the usual. The other boys are still getting into all kindsa trouble, like always.”

“Ya miss ‘em?”

“Sometimes. It gets real lonely ‘round the house.” She paused a moment, then heaved a dreamy sigh. “Things’ve been betters lately, though.”

“Why’s that, ma?”

“Oh, you remember that fella I’ve been seein’? Marc?” Scout nodded slowly, and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I remember. What about him?”

“Oh, Geoffrey. I can’t even begin to tell you how great he is.” She sighed. “He makes me feel young again.”

Scout froze. “What?”

“You’re too young.” She shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“What’re you even sayin’, ma? I’m nine-fuckin’-teen!”

“This is far too mature for you, hon.” She reached up to mess with his hat, and smiled the kind of smile that only a mother could give. Unfortunately, Spy was doing a damn good job of faking it. “You just go back to your game now. I’ll check up on you later.”

“No,” Scout was curious now. What the hell was Spy playing at? “Tell me, ma.”

She levelled gazes with him, then sighed for the third time. “Alright. Since you wanna know so bad, listen up. Marc makes me happy ‘cause he makes me feel like a woman again.”

Scout stared on. He opened his mouth to express his confusion and mounting disgust when his mother continued.

“We just go at it like teenagers.” She flushed a bit and giggled, and Scout could not try hard enough to suppress the choking sound that pushed its way out. “He just fucks me up the wall! Most of the time I can’t even walk for a week after!”

“What the f-“

“Just like rabbits in springtime! He really wears me out... satisfies me in ways no man ever could.”

“No – fuck you – stop fuckin’-“

“The best ever was the time we did it in your room-“

“Fuckin’ – no – j-just – stop-“

“-must’ve done it seven or eight times in there that afternoon-“

“Don’t fuckin’ – no – don’t talk-“

“-on your bed, stained your Red Sox sheets-“

“Just – stop – fuckin’ stop talkin’-“

“-then he lifted me up onto our desk, the one where you keep all your comic books, and made a mess of those too-“

“My fuckin’ comics?!”

“Say, Geoffey, have you ever heard of ‘fisting’? Do you know what that is?”

“SPY. SHUT THE FUCK U-“

“I told him we couldn’t fit your signed Ken Harrelson baseball bat inside me, but he insisted on tryin’ anyway!”

“FUCK YOU!” Scout bellowed, pulling up his scattergun to place it to his mother’s skull. “See you after respawn, dad.”

A deafening crack sounded and the ringing in his ears didn’t stop until after he’d finished kicking the headless RED Spy’s corpse for good measure. Just as he turned away from the body to finish his intel run, he heard the worst sound any person could possibly hear after blowing the head off the enemy Spy and kicking his corpse bruised and broken while mumbling a mantra of ‘fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyou.’

“Dead ringer.”

He heard Spy’s decloak and the next thing he knew, he was falling to his knees and puking up his breakfast all over the immaculate white floor of the respawn room. He was suffering from the worst respawn nausea he had ever felt in his two years of being on base, and it was all Spy’s fault.




--
Chapter 6, beta'd by cancel



“Demo, man, I just don’t get it. Didn’t any’a those RED chuckleheads kill at all today?”
“Noo, Ah dunnae think soo... but my memory might be a wee bit off,” He took a swig from his ever-present scrumpy bottle, as if demonstrating the reason his memory was so bad. “Why don’t you ask oor Spy?”

“Spies are my biggest problem.” Scout mumbled. Then he sighed. “No worries, pal. I’ll go ask Engie. Spy’s kind of a dick, y’know?”

Demo’s laughter boomed and he slapped his knee hard enough that Scout cringed at the very sound. “Aye, boyo. Yeh go do that.”
--
Engie was much more informative. The first thing he asked when Scout knocked on the door to the kitchen where he was making dinner was; “You sure got clobbered out there, son. Anything worryin’ ya?”

Scout decided to play dumb. It was easier than he thought it would be. “What do you mean I got clobbered, hardhat? Wasn’t the whole team sucking today?”

“Wish I could tell you that, String Bean, but you were the only one getting killed constantly out there.”

Scout gaped. “What, the rest of you guys didn’t even get killed once?”

“Well, sure as shootin’ we got ourselves killed, son. But didn’t you seem ‘em REDs? They wouldn’t shoot at us unless we shot at them first. It was dang peculiar.”

“What, they walked right past you when you were buildin’ and stuff?”

“Yep. Didn’t even seem to see me.” He looked up from the carrots he’d been dicing to gesture at Scout with his knife. That damned robot hand made Scout nervous. “But they hunted you like a pack’a wild coyotes after a scared lil’ jackrabbit. Couldn’t make sense of it.” He dumped the carrots into his massive cauldron of a pot and began slicing the celery.

Scout shrugged and slid moodily up to sit on the top of the stove, next to where Engie worked. “Yeah, but we always knew they were fuckin’ freaks. REDs, man. Fuckin’ REDs.”

“Then what’re you gonna do, Scout?”

“Gonna get ‘em back tomorrow, of course.” Scout lowered his voice and grumbled. “See how dat fuckin’ Spy likes a bat up the ass.”

“What?”

“Nothin’, Engie. You think dere’s a reason they’re doin’ this?”

Engine dumped the pieces of celery into the pot, tossing a handful of bouillon cubes in after them. He ran water into the pot and turned to regard Scout. “I can’t see nothin’ different about ya other than those fancy new earplugs you got.”

“What?” Scout sputtered. “Why the hell would that make a difference?”

“Now calm yerself down, son. I never said that was the main reason for some, I’m just sayin’ it’s a possibility.”

“Seriously? A new pair of earphones and they start hunting down onto me? That can’t be it.”

“Well there’s gotta be somethin’, else they wouldn’t be all on the same page, right?”

Scout nodded. “Yeah.”

Engie gave a pointed look at Scout. “Ass off the stove, boy. I need that space now.”

Scout slid off the stovetop and stepped aside, watching as the Texan lifted the pot out of the sink and set it on the stove where he had just been sitting. Engie reached over to turn the element on before slapping a lid down on the pot. Scout heaved an exaggerated sigh and Engie’s eye snapped up to look at him.

“What should I do, Engie? You’re smart. Help me.”

Engie was silent a moment. He brought his robotic right hand up and scratched at his jaw with it lightly. Scout shuddered. “Well, how about this: for tomorrow’s battle, you wear your old headset. See if that makes a difference.”

“Back to this earphone bullshit?” Scout rolled his eyes. “I told ya, hardhat. That ain’t gonna change nothing.”

“But it’s all we got to go on right now. Unless you have some better genius scheme?”

“Naw, man. I got nothing. Guess I’ll give it a try.”

“Sounds good. Now you clear on outta here. Grub’s just about done and you know how Heavy gets when you get your food first.”

“Fuck the fatty. I wanna stay in here.”

“Do you really want him to use his ‘lions in a pride’ metaphor again?”

“Are you kidding? That shit’s funny. Like how him and Soldier start arguing about which one of them is alpha of the pride of whatever the fuck.”

“Just go. Dinner’ll be out in a bit.”

“And then Sniper tells ‘em that guy lions hump each other to ‘establish dominance’ or whatever and that that’s maybe what they oughta do, and-“

“Out, or no dinner!”

“Alright, alright. Just lemme have a little taste test.” His hand reached for the pot. Lightning-fast, Engie pulled out open a drawer and whipped out a wooden spoon. He gave Scout’s hand a smack when he reached for the lid of the pot.

“Hands to yerself or ya lose ‘em.”

After the few seconds it took for those words to sink in, Scout jumped back as if electrified. His eyes ran laps between Engineer’s right hand, its long robotic fingers clasped around the handle of the wooden spoon, over to the standard BLU kitchen wooden knife block, as well as the spare knife Engie had been using resting on the cutting board. Robot hand. Wooden block full of knives. Hand. Knives. Hand. Knives. And the way Engie was leering at him didn’t help either.

“I... need to go... water... the uh... the CAT! YEAH! THE CAT! BYE!” Scout disappeared through the kitchen door with a slam, both his hands just as intact as he wanted them.
--
“Naw, you guys get started without me. Sniper can go down to my workshop and get the guitar if he wants. I’ll be out in a bit.”

“Engineer is sure he doesn’t want help? Can do dishes by himself?”

“Yeah, but be sure to save a spot for me ‘round the fire.”

“Engineer is credit to team!”

Engie grinned and scratched his head modestly, his metal fingers making light scraping sounds against his scalp. “Thanks, big feller.”

Engie waited until the sounds from the dining room had faded, until even Heavy’s deep, booming laugh was nothing more than a distant echo. He set the bus bin down and hung the apron up on the wall-mounted book, disengaging his disguise kit. His disguise crackled and fell and the RED Spy took a moment to enjoy a smoke before being on his way. Smoke finished, he still had one last thing to take care of.

He went to the tall kitchen broom closet and unlocked the door. He stepped back swiftly, because as soon as he unlocked the door, the unconscious body of the BLU Engineer fell to the floor with a heavy thud. Spy ground out his butt on the dusty tile floor and headed for the stairs. His heels clicked as he descended each stair, but none of the BLU team was around to hear him.

“Too easy.” He chuckled as he came out of the sewers under the 2fort bridge. His mind buzzed with the pleasure of knowing how perfect his plan was, and he silently thanked his Demo and Engineer for the parts they played. He was energetic and excited, but it wasn’t the time for excitement. It was the time for sleep. His plan would produce delightful results in the morning.

209 .

>>208 Love it, but your beta ain't the best. Missed a lot of errors.
IN chap 4, though, there's an easy one to miss that just bugs me. L’Administrateur should be L'Administratrice. One of those nouns that has a feminine version and a masculine one. Just for future reference.

210 .

GUUUURRRRLLLLL you just made my day

211 .

I'd love to see more of this fic too.

212 .

Hey, there was this one great fic, which didn´t got continued it seems to me. And i hoped that the author repost it here again, but alas all hope was in vain.

In this fiction the redteam was currently station in the north, where they tried to open a base of blue. Pyro was a englishman who were in a asylum before. Medic lost the old heavy to respawn. And the base was later deep down in the ground. Yeah, these were the main points. I love it, because it was creeepy and sexy and i loved Sniper in there because he was this selfloving bastard you just want to bone.

I know the author had a own website where he updated the betafic regulary.

Someone can help out?

213 .

>>212

That should just be in fanfic under "Magee"
He hasn't posted in a while, but he's still working on it.
I don't have an internet link, sorry about that.
I love that fic too.

214 .

I stumbled on the first chapter of behind enemy lines in the archive, i was wondering if anyone knows it the author had continued the story

215 .

bump up

216 .

Does anybody have that Engie/Spy fic where Engie straps a vibrator onto Spy and controls it with a remote, causing spy to pretty much go berserk? Google and archives turned up nothin

217 .

I'm looking for two pieces of fiction - one involves the Scout being used as a serving platter for the team's (Japanese?) dinner, and the other involves Sniper coaxing a mentally deficient Scout into giving him a blowjob. I seem to remember the latter caused a bit of fuss back in the day, so I'll understand if its not allowed to be reposted.

218 .

The "elusive' ending for you Ms. Kitten. Save it while you can!


Bunk Mates (PART 2 DUUR) Rachos 09/10/25(Sun)09:30 No. 6101
Even though his eyes were closed, Sniper felt wide awake.
It was now dawn. He didn’t have to be awake to realize that, what with those few telltale signs around him. He could hear the last of the crickets chirping their wistful tunes, all but drowned out by the early bird song calls. There was also that familiar burst of warm air that came through the window above his bed every once in a while. And that faint pattering of feet on gravel as one of the team members (probably Scout) was up and about, getting ready for the day’s fighting.
All as Sniper left his eyes closed, letting his other senses absorb the wonders of the world in a drowsy haze. Just like every other morning. Only this time it was different. This time he was with Spy… with Spy. He still couldn’t really believe it. But here he was, arms wrapped around the slumbering Frenchman, dick lying limp between the two of them, breathing in the scent of his hair and sweat through his balaclava. There. He did it. He finally worked up the courage and nerve to nail Spy down and have his way with him. There was no shame in it, was there?
Part of him still felt wrong about the whole thing. Part of him felt like he was on top of the world. Another part felt like doing it all again.
Jesus fuck what the fuck is wrong with me?
Damn Medic…that was some real great advice there. Now he was just as confused as he was before, if not, more. It was just like that time he caught his dad getting personal with two of the local girls from the town pub when he was eleven.
Trying not to think any more, he pulled Spy’s body closer to his chest, nuzzling into the nook of the man’s neck again. Yes, he was confused as hell. But that didn’t mean he was going to milk this moment for all it was worth. Being alone for so long meant that this was a rare drop of water in the sexual desert for him.
“Mm…”
All too soon Spy seemed to stir in his arms from his touch. So much for letting the moment last. With a lazy hand he found himself stroking Spy’s cheek. “…aahh… Snipeer?” Damnit, why the hell did that spook have to accent his name like that? It was enough to make him want to start grinding his hips into the man entwined with him again. With a low noise in the back of his throat, Sniper pulled Spy closer to ensure him that he was awake. The spy seemed to melt into his arms a little bit in response, burying his head into Sniper's chest, staying that way for a few minutes. Silence escaped into the world around them as they lay in the single bed, minds wondering and daydreaming…
“Are you ztill mad at me?”
“Eh?” Where the hell did that come from?
“Before when ve were fighting… before Medic came to us to tell us about our…” Sniper could imagine Spy’s trademark smirk work its way onto his face as he paused. “…our new zleeping arrangements.”
Oh. That.
“Nah, mate. Tha’ was ages ago.”
Sniper stayed silent for a minute, mauling it over in his head. Trying to push that luxurious feeling of companionship and sexual contentment away for a little bit so he could think with his usual mindset. He had been working on a ship in a bottle for quite some time, taking pride in how everything was coming along as he put it together with dexterity and care. All to have it smash to pieces in a few seconds.
“Ya know, me mum sent me that a month after I started working here.” Spy stayed quiet, still as a twig. “She said that I would have a lot of time to myself since I would be probably sittin’ around doing nothin’ while I’m waiting for people to shoot.” At the same time Spy and Sniper suppressed a snort. Yeah. Right.
“So she sent that thing to me. Slowly… Slowly I’d put little bits of it together. Probably just an hour a week if I was lucky. But then… when you dropped it,”
“Ven zat damn Scout pushed me while I was ‘olding eet, you mean.” Spy muttered darkly.
“Well, that was all my work. Gone. It’ll probably take ages to restore it all again… heck, I’m going to need ta get another bottle…”
“But what does zis ‘ave to do with-”
“I forgive you.”
Spy turned his head towards Sniper as much as possible, soon having to sit himself up a little so he was able to see his face properly. The sincerity in his voice was convincing and when he looked into his eyes he saw genuine emotions coming from the man. A warm feeling came over the Spy as he replied with a gentle smile then leaning down to give his lover a soft kiss on the lips. It didn’t get any deeper than that though as Spy climbed out of the bed and proceeded to get changed into his suit. After all- they both had work to do.
“I’ll see you after ze battle, mon ami.”
After Spy left the van Sniper still lay in the bed a bit longer. Now that his lover was no longer there to corrupt his thoughts he soon realized that he had been thinking of Spy as a lover. It wasn’t supposed to be like that- not at all. Sniper was supposed to just fuck him and then be done with it, yet the man couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe there was something else there. Love? No. Definitely not. It was just that Medic... that’s right. MEDIC! It was all that bastards fault! One thing Sniper didn’t get was what the man had to gain from this prank.
Sitting up from the bed he began to dress himself. There was a day of sniping for him to do and after that- he’d have a word with the doctor...
+++
Walking seemed to hurt a little for Spy. He gritted his teeth around the freshly lit cigarette in his mouth as he approached the door. All because he let Sniper all but fuck him raw last night. Drawing in on his stick of lit nicotine, he made his way out of Sniper’s van and shut the door quietly behind him. Today was going to be a good day. A hot day, judging by the bubble of heat that hit his face as soon as he stepped outside, but a good day all the same. Especially now that he had managed to get the whole Sniper ordeal out of his system. Now all he had to do was agree with Sniper tonight to never do that again and keep it a closely guarded secret until death took him. And he would never have to submit himself like that again.
Perfect.
A smirk played about his lips as he flipped out his butterfly knife, nimbly flicking it as he let his mind wander. Yes, everything was as he had hoped. That brief moment of sexual weakness was now behind him. Every time he thought of something, it never instantly looped back to Sniper’s face. With a flourish of the wrist, he slashed the open blade twice in the air horizontally before making a stabbing motion. Perfect. No hesitation what-so-ever. Already he could imagine the warmth of blood washing over his suit in those so familiar patterns. And the horrified faces of the BLU team wafted into his mind’s eye. Heavy, the idiot, feeling the cut and puncture all too late. The Demoman, spinning around wildly as he tried to wave a bottle of whiskey at the invisible offender before slumping to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. And their Sniper-
Spy’s heart immediately flopped down a few notches in his chest.
The BLU Sniper. The exact doppelganger of the RED Sniper. The very same RED Sniper who was holding him in his arms not but a few minutes ago.
His knife clattered to the ground. Oh god, he thought it wasn’t possible. It crept up on him so silently and had him around the neck so quickly.
He now had feelings for Sniper.
Cigarette dangling precariously from his lips, Spy sucked in another deep breath to calm himself. Love? Ridiculous. He was probably overreacting. After all, he just came out of spending a sexual night with the man. The event wasn’t meaningful or romantic, it was just plain sex as if it were to pass the time. It wasn’t surprising if he couldn’t think of Sniper without letting his feelings wander a little. But how could he tell how far these feelings had blossomed? He saw the man every day, and their opinion of each other seemed to change by the hour.
Besides, he was a Spy. Spies lived dangerous lives. If Heavy bragged about being the strongest on the team, or if Pyro was proud of his flammable abilities, Spy was proud of his ability to backstab and infiltrate the enemy compound. He had to give up his identity before all of this; his old life was now a forbidden zone that he could no longer return to. Assuming he would get out of this crazy war in the next few years. But he could easily make a new identity. He could easily blend in with the crowd once more unable to be discovered as being that ‘goddamn Spy from the old days’. But if the BLU bastards got wind of him having a relationship of any kind… they would be in danger. It was one thing for Spy’s life to be on the line, but he didn’t want to let anyone live in fear of being hunted and exploited as bait for Spy to turn himself in and hand over information on the REDs.
Fucking was one thing, love making was another.
That wasn’t love making. Spy constantly told himself that he couldn’t allow it; he couldn’t really afford to have feelings for anyone. With a Spy there was no happy ending in terms of love. Being involved with him was far too risky and in the end someone gets hurt, however he was afraid that maybe it was too late to escape it.
But was it true? Was he in love with Sniper? His thoughts were all over the place. Bending down to pick up his butterfly knife, Spy paused, intrigued by his hand. It was trembling. How could his concern for a backwater pissing jar man cause him to shake like a timid animal?
“Eet ‘as just been five minutes ever since you stepped out of ze van. Relax. Things vill probably be back to normal by nightfall.”
Dragging on the last of his cigarette, Spy spat it out onto the sandy earth and stepped on it purposefully as he strode towards the RED building complex.
+++
Miss. Miss. Shit!
Sniper made a quick duck for cover as the Heavy he was trying to kill finally caught on his location and began to fire back at him. As he lay still behind the thick impenetrable wall he growled in annoyance as it was clear that the sex from last night had done nothing but make matters far worse. It was like being on fire and trying to put yourself out with gasoline. Sniper had just made ten attempts to shoot that big ugly head and still couldn’t even graze the man with a bullet. What was going on with him?
Surely sex with Spy would have stopped him from obsessing over the man. Maybe he was just feeling way too strange from sticking his dick inside another man’s ass and it wasn’t emotional attachment at all. Then he began to tell himself that he was in denial and that there really was something there... Why on earth would he think things like that? This was just... like a fucking tumour that needed to be cut out... and burnt... and promptly pissed on before stamping on it until there was nothing left of it.
Now that his location was discovered he needed to move somewhere else otherwise he was just asking to be killed- something he wouldn’t allow himself to do. He needed to talk to Medic and there was no way he would wait till tomorrow to do so.
A stray bullet went over his head, barely grazing the top of his hat. Swearing, he scooted lower as the jeering cries of Heavy wafted over the battlefield. This was just crazy. He fucked Spy to stop thinking about him! It was the exact opposite of what he wanted to do.
The faint sound of feet running on steel jerked him back to reality; The enemy Scout was running along the roof on the top of the RED’s base, scurrying around and trying to find a way in. At the same time, the whirr of the minigun faded, signalling to Sniper that it was time to try and get another shot in. Maybe on that Scout. As soon as the boy swung himself down onto the battlements Sniper took a shot.
It missed terribly.
Swearing, the Boston turned around and glowered at his enemy. “Crap.” Sniper’s voice was low as he grabbed his kukri nearby, somehow managing to dodge the aluminium bat as the Scout ran towards him and swung. And all the while in the back of his mind, Sniper kept on thinking back to his peaceful moments with the Spy.
This had to stop today.
+++
By the end of the day Sniper had managed to survive, though he had barely done anything helpful for the team due to his terrible mindset. It was amazing he was still alive today actually, usually if someone was lacking focus for even a second it’s just enough time to lose a chunk of brain. Sniper quickly walked to the ward, ignoring everyone on the way. If Medic wasn’t alive and in his office then he probably wouldn’t survive the next day- or worse, he may crack and somehow spill the fact that he slept with Spy. Urgh now that would be a disaster. Day after day, countless mockery and insults over their being fags. Even if they died they’d return the next day and continue to bag them out. Reputation; it can take a lifetime to build and only a second to break it.
Without even bothering to knock, Sniper opened the door and walked into the cold room. The cold... empty room. Fuck. Was Medic dead? No he couldn’t be dead. Ok well it was possible for Medic to be dead but of all days, why did he have to die today? Sniper’s frustration built as he balled his hand into a fist and unleashed his fury into the medicine cabinet.
“GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!”
“Vould you please NOT damage mine ward!?” A German bark came from behind him.
Sniper turned around to come face to face with the RED Medic. He was both relieved to see him, yet incredibly furious for the obvious reason.
“You perverted fucking scoundrel!” The Aussie shouted as he grabbed Medic’s coat with both hands and shoved him violently against the wall. “That was some fucking great advice you gave me! Now I’m worse than ever!”
Medic had a shocked expression plastered on his face from being suddenly attacked, only to be more confused about what the Sniper was yelling at him.
“Vat?”
“I fucked the Spy just like you told me to. Now I’m totally screwed over in the head! What now huh!?”
Medic’s face went completely blank, soon mouthing the classic ‘Ah...’ His hands moved up to Sniper’s and gently got the man to let go of him. He adjusted his glasses as he took a slow breath to try and fully grasp the situation, also thinking of how to break the news to Sniper in a way that wouldn’t overly enrage him.
“Sniper. Vhy don’t you take a seat?”
Though the man was still furious he walked over to a chair as calmly as possible and sat down. He looked up at Medic like he was about to get the birds and the bees talk from his father.
“Yes?”
“Sniper... I never told you to have intercourse vith anyone... Spy swindled you into sleeping with him...”
The man just stared like his world had just exploded.
”SPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
The Frenchman was sitting in the van and he could hear the scream coming all the way from the ward. Calmly taking a drag from his cigarette he looked up to the ceiling with a very dull expression.
“Oh dear, I do believe I’m in trouble.”
Not 10 seconds later did the camper van door get smashed open by a rough kick, revealing the silhouette of a mad man wielding a large knife.
“You son of a bitch!” Sniper shouted as he charged in and tried to cut the man’s head off.
Spy quickly ducked and moved to the side, hearing the dull thunk as metal met wood.
“Calm down now, mon Snipe.”
“CALM DOWN? CALM DOWN!? You completely fucked me over!” Sniper’s face was aflame with rage, wrenching his kukri out of the bench with seemingly no effort.
“Well actually you fucked me.” Spy replied with a slight smirk, it soon vanishing as he was nearly gutted by another swing.
“You think this is fucking funny!?” The Australian roared as he swung his knife around like a wild man, his rage rising as Spy lightly dodging every attack. “Ya played me! Played with my mind all this time!”
Spy’s dodging stopped as he felt his back against the wall of the van. He looked down the shining steel that was now millimetres away from his throat, its owner wearing a face of pure fury as his chest rose and fell.
“Vell, you’re certainly upset about something you so enjoyed not too long ago, yes.” He couldn’t help but like a chuckle work his way out of his throat, feeling the steel brush slightly against his balaclava. Sniper’s face flushed even further and the temptation to just slit the man’s throat just climbed even higher.
“Don’t ya fuckin’ try and sweet talk your way outta this!”
“Oh, but I do not vant to, mon Snipe.” With a flick of his wrist, Spy’s butterfly knife was out and pointed at Sniper’s throat in a similar threatening fashion. “I believe you prefer to get ‘ands on with me, no?” Something flickered behind Sniper’s sunglasses as Spy continued to talk. “You want to take me, Snipeer. I know you do. You vant me to learn not to cross you again.” With a casual glance, Spy looked down at Sniper’s hand. Lovely. Shaking like a leaf. He kept his trademark smirk down this time though. “I saw it in your eyes last night. You wanted to do zo much with me…”
“Stop it.”
“Quelquefois je vous déteste tellement que je vous aime.”
Sniper grit his teeth as the man he was yearning to murder spoke something he didn’t understand. That faggot, constantly saying things to him in French like it was some secret. It pissed him off. A lot of things were just pushing him on edge actually. He hated how he was deceived like that, he hated that he had just told Medic what he had done, he hated that he couldn’t bring himself to actually kill Spy. Most of all, he hated that he still wanted more of that infuriating Frenchman. Why him? Why did it have to be him? Throwing his kukri away at the last second, Sniper yanked the knife out of Spy’s hand and mashed their lips together. Still feeling rather livid from everything he was far from gentle as he pushed Spy’s back to the wall, adding his weight onto him and leaving a bit of a Spy-shaped dint in it.
As Sniper felt himself getting into the exact same thing he did last night the back of his mind was just shouting out how much he’d regret this afterward. However, Spy seemed to give him the ability to just not care for that moment.
Now he could feel Spy squirming, trying to obtain some small control of the situation. Through the kisses a wolfish grin encompassed Sniper’s features, using his hands to pin those busy hands above the coiling body now underneath him. He’ll be damned if Spy was going to get that lovely treatment from last time. Almost just to prove his point, he sank his teeth into the bottom lip of the Frenchman. A beautiful cry rose out of the man’s throat. It just awakened something inside of him.
Gripping one hand around both slender wrists, Sniper started to explore the body he was now fairly familiar with. Those sharp angles of shoulders meeting those slender arms built for stealth and murder. That chest, now rising and falling at an elevated pace, hidden by all those layers of clothing, hiding away that lean torso…
That had to change.
With lightning hands, Sniper brought his hands down to the Spy’s chest, now keening for the man’s touch, despite being pressed firmly against the wall with an elbow now. Gripping onto the jacket, the Australian undid the two huge buttons impatiently, revealing the more complicated suit shirt underneath. It’d take ages to get this all undone. Moving both hands down, he ripped unceremoniously ripped the shirt apart. Some of the buttons slipped out of their holes quite nicely. Others weren’t so lucky. A gasp of shock erupted from Spy as he heard the ripping of fabric. It was quickly was silenced as Sniper returned to their make out session, driving any protest that was bubbling forth from his lips back into his mind to be forgotten.
Hands now free, Spy let them wander around to Sniper’s back, pulling him closer quite roughly. Just by that touch Sniper could feel his already pulsing erection stain that little bit more in his pants, heat pooling southward in his body. Just how could one man do this to him? How could a few murmurings and a coax in a foreign language undo him in such a way? With a moan, he started to let his mouth explore the pale chest before him, licking and sucking at parts of the exposed flesh like a starved animal. Judging from the way the moans above him were increasing in intensity, he was doing something good. The licks quickly escalated to nips and bites, particularly favouring the area around the man's nipples. He could feel the gloved fingers of Spy dig into him every time he approached the now tenderised area, hissing every time teeth made contact with skin.
Those same fingers worked their way down to his hips, grabbing wildly for a belt as Spy started to roughly kiss his neck. Smirking into skin, Sniper drew himself back up to his normal height so that he could do the same. With two swift moments, two belts were tossed aside carelessly before the two rammed their mouths together once more. Sniper's slacks were already starting to crumple around his ass as he unbuttoned and unzipped himself as fast as he could with one hand. Leaning in as he fished his member out (he had to restrain himself from shivering from his own touch), Sniper breathed huskily into Spy's ear.
"I'm goin' ta fuck you raw for this." He could feel Spy's member twitch against his leg, the one extra push to get right into it.
As Sniper proceeded to fumble around Spy’s pants he managed to find the lube they had used the previous night, placed neatly in his rear pocket. The bastard still had it. For a brief second he had the temptation to throw the tube away and fuck him without any lubrication at all, however he had easily imagined doing such a thing would be something like fucking sandpaper. The liquid was quickly poured onto his palm so he could rub it on his member, his pants still loosely wrapped around his waist. Spy’s were in the same position but only for a few seconds as the rough hands gave a firm yank and getting them to drop to the floor. A hand snaked around Spy’s leg and grasped lustfully around the back of his upper thigh yet it was almost painful with how tightly the man was pinching his skin. His leg was soon lifted up into the air and placed around his partner’s waist. With one hand, Sniper hastily guided himself in before he moved it around Spy’s other leg that had yet to be plucked into the air.
Sniper was far from gentle as he showed the man no mercy, roughly thrusting into him and ignoring any pleas for him to slow down. Shamefully the cries of pain only fed to Sniper’s current lust for angry sex. His pants soon dropped to around the man’s ankles as the friction caused the material to slowly slide from the waist.
Spy could only wrap his arms around Sniper as he was viciously slammed into repeatedly. His gloved hand dug into the nape of Sniper’s neck, the man was lucky that glove were still there because after the fierce bite he had suffered the night before the pain could’ve only been far worse. At this stage, it was aching but endurable. The two of them didn’t bother to be quiet as they let out short gasps and low moans.
They soon took the activity to the floor as it was beginning to get a little tiring for Sniper to maintain their position much longer. He wasn’t going to let his fatigue assist Spy in getting out of his punishment. Spy’s back violently hit the wooden floor boards, that was probably his only break from Sniper’s harsh treatment as everything quickly picked up again.
Eventually the pain turned into fiery pleasure and eagerly Spy moved along with Sniper. He wanted more. Eyes half lidded, he pulled himself up to Sniper’s ear.
“H-harder...”
Sniper couldn’t help but grin. How could he say no to that? Angling himself again, he thrust in as hard as he could. He hoped the bastard’s asshole was bleeding from it all. A few minutes of thrusting, biting, and clawing later and Spy let out a gasp. Seems like he found a good spot there. Curious, Sniper thrust forward again, getting a similar reaction. This time it was a longer gasp, threatening to become a moan. He must have been doing something right to get that out of Spy of all people. Slowing the pace a bit, Sniper did his best to keep hitting that spot again and again.
“Ya like that don’t cha, ya little mongrel?”
Spy responded with a strong nip to the wrist that beside his head.
Gritting his teeth in dissatisfaction, he leaned forward and let his hips do the work. He couldn’t really move his hands anywhere else without being sprawled all over Spy’s chest. So he curled his hands into fists and kept on riding, trying to ignore that sly smirk mixed in with Spy’s face. Without much warning, Spy took the fist closest to him and drew it close, ignoring how Sniper was now starting to become quite unbalanced and started to chomp and suck at his fingers.
When he ran his tongue over his palm, Sniper couldn’t help but come undone. Letting out an unusually aggressive howl as his hips snapped forward and rode into Spy's rump. Spy quickly let go after that, silent in contrast, hissing through clenched teeth as his seed spilt over the floor.
+++
Sniper lay on the wooden floor looking up at the ceiling, not bothering to swat Spy away from him as he curled up near his body like a content house cat. While the feeling of another release had put most stress away, the main thought in his head was still hanging there like a dark cloud.
“Fuck. I did it again.”
--
Sniper awoke the next morning to the scent of what he would’ve wanted to be Spy’s scent. Unfortunately it was a filthy sock covering a foot, placed right beside his face. In a way it was still Spy’s scent... just a really disgusting one. A hand quickly slapped the foot away from him as he lifted up his head to see Spy had been sleeping with his head at Sniper’s feet.
“Urgh, mate. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t rub your smelly ol’ feet in my face.” He growled and rubbed his own feet in his partner’s face just to spite him. The balaclava moved around a bit so the eye holes were no longer showing his eyes but a part of his messed up hair. It was probably the most Sniper would ever see under that mask of his.
“I didn’t mean to-ECK!” The Frenchman flinched instantly and cursed in his native tongue as Sniper’s old sock, probably gone unwashed for five years, proceeded to rub itself up against his face. Tch. Fantastic. Blindly he swung his foot to the side a bit and started to try and shove his own foot up Sniper's nose in retaliation.
Spy moved to sit up but in doing so he attacked Sniper’s foot with his own face and fell off the mattress. Sniper felt both victorious and a little concern for Spy’s well-being, but when you’ve died hundreds of times it’s not like their little fight was going to hurt more than a bullet... or rocket... or a giant vortex of flames leaping out at you, come to think of it. Spy got up, fixing up the balaclava first before beginning to dust himself off like he had just landed in a dirt pile. He let off a small smile towards Sniper to relieve of any possible concern he was having then soon left to get changed.
So it was two nights in a row now they’d had sex. Both times Spy was no longer around did Sniper fully grasp what he had done and regained the feelings of confused emotions towards the man. Sniper could’ve passed the first fuck off as lacking a woman and having those sexual needs and Spy being able to fulfil those needs. But when you fuck the same man, twice , in two consecutive evenings it’s time to question your sexuality.
Well I was pissed off... Spy had to be punished... And what better way to get revenge than to provide angry sex? That’ll win the war. What the hell, were this 3 weeks ago he killed Spy just so he could have a bed alone, if he was pissed off at Spy then his form of punishment would be to an ass full of kukri, not dick.
Thankfully no one knew about this- oh wait, scratch that. He fucked that part up too by openly admitting to Medic that he had sex with Spy. The whole team probably knew by now and were laughing it up over a sausage breakfast.
Sniper groaned at the possible scenario as he dragged his feet to get ready for the day.
+++
Spy went in another direction from Sniper as they left the van, like they always did. Neither of them was willing to risk revealing their close relationship in any possible way. An ideal image they would’ve loved was for the team to think that they still detested each other but men were just as big gossipers as women. Rumours were probably floating about before anything between them had actually happened.
If their team mates found out then the worst they would get was a few insults for a few days then the occasional gay joke, but if they honestly thought they could insult Spy and not expect to receive a broken arm or a knife in the back then they had another thing coming. Eventually the team bullshit would stop. It always did.
However, it was the enemies that he was more concerned about. Every man had their weakness and once it was found they were easy to beat. Spy had nothing that anyone could use against him until now. Yes, there was no denying it on his end, he cared for that bastard as much as he didn’t want to. If there was a switch you could flick that would allow you to not have feelings for someone anymore then he’d hit that switch in a heartbeat with no hesitation or regret. Love doesn’t like to work that way unfortunately. Were his weak spot to be found out by BLU there was not a doubt in his mind that they would use it to their utmost advantage. He’d be dammed if he’d allow such carelessness to get in the way of his career.
He looked across the field and saw the team's friendly Pyro give the quick greet and flee. Spy responded with a slight nod before holding up his watch and going invisible. With a quick play of his fingers the butterfly knife flew in his hand gracefully before staying in its deadly form, ready to kill any unsuspecting victim. His first target was always the easiest. It took barely any effort at all. All he had to do was watch. Wait. Listen. And step forward and stab when the enemy's guard was down at just the perfect moment. Of course, there were sentries to look out for, but those were not much of a problem with his sapper. He stood over the Engineer’s corpse and his quickly malfunctioning sentry, dropping a cigarette on him before walking further into the base. The more offensive part of the line-up was outside fighting against RED’s own offence. As usual. Sometimes BLU would be so careless to just not guard their base well enough, or they had that much faith in their Engineer to keep everything nice and secure. He couldn't help but smirk to himself as he nudged the doughy body at his feet, watching as the limp form was starting to grow cold and stiff.
Spy began to go transparent again as he recloaked. Stealthily moving around the base and moving to a window where he could see the outside where his colleagues where fighting. He grasped on what was going on as the fight wore on, listening in the corner as he heard some of the more defensive members of the team rally commands back and forth. He knew just the very member of the BLU team that needed to be killed so his team mates could succeed. A loud shot of a sniper rifle went off and the RED Pyro fell right to the ground as he was running. Another shot and they had just lost their Demoman. Medic, Soldier and Heavy quickly gathered how in danger they were in their current position and ran behind a building safe from the Sniper’s range. Funny. Three of the more formidable personalities on the team, running for cover at the hands of this one Sniper. Spy quickly disguised himself as BLU’s recently deceased Engineer before dropping his cloak. He had seen how this Sniper worked too many times now. Just like clockwork, now that his targets had taken cover, Sniper quickly gathered his effects and started to get the hell away from the window. A smart man would move to somewhere else after all. Otherwise the survivors would know where to aim.
As if to prove its point, a rocket hit the window and tore a good chunk off of it. Spy suppressed the urge to bury his head in his hand. Goddamnit Soldier.
Sniper ran past Spy, climbing up a ladder to get to a higher hide. He followed behind him, as silently as a Spy after climbing up the ladder he saw that Sniper was already searching through the scope leaving his back fully exposed. Dropping his disguise, Spy felt his mouth slip into his signature deadly smile. Too easy...
+++
With the constant distractions playing out in his head, Sniper sat in a quiet spot waiting for enemies to walk on by. There were probably better places he could be, places where he’d be more productive and helpful to everyone but right now he wasn’t as efficient as he usually was. Efficiency. It was one of the three professional standards he lived by and right now was failing to do two of those. Be polite, a silent moment and a tilt of the hat was always given. Be efficient, he hadn’t even killed anyone in a few days now, at most it was just some wounds inflicted. Have a plan to kill everyone you meet. Everyone meant everyone. Even your team mates because you never know when they could just turn around and stab you in the back. Ironic that he was having feelings to the one man that took pride in stabbing backs.
Sniper wondered if Spy was struggling to do his job just as much as he was. It worried him a little- tch god, why was he worried? Spy was a man that could take care of himself. Right? In the corner of his eye he saw a flicker of movement, as quickly as he could he looked through the scope. His counterpart was looking directly at him from his own scope. A quick glance downward revealed a BLU laser light shining right on his chest. Aiming for his heart.
Shit!
He expected to have a chest full of led straight away but the shot never came. Another glance down and the light was gone. Getting lower he peeked through the scope to see that Sniper had been distracted by none other than Spy. That man had just saved him, whether he had intended to or just wanted to do his job, he didn’t know. What was he thinking? Spy was just doing his job, from all the way up there he couldn’t have possibly known BLU Sniper was aiming at him... Did he just feel a little disappointed by that? Sniper shook his head and snapped back into reality, instead of sitting around he should’ve been aiming at his mirror image. As he pulled his rifle up to take aim he looked just in time to see Spy fall from the height.
+++
Spy had him... he had the perfect chance and the perfect chance did not wait for you to take it. As he had lifted the balisong up to stab, his hand was frozen in place. Almost as if it refused to slam deep into the man’s spinal cord. Was it simply because Sniper looked exactly like his Sniper? Many of times Spy had secretly sat behind the RED Sniper while he was meant to be out there spying? Carelessly leaving himself exposed for a surprise attack, yet zeroing in on a target that would be dead with the pull of a trigger. It was rather amusing to just watch how long he’d last before he even bothered to check if he was there.
Spy was quickly reminded that this Sniper wasn’t the one he cared for as his presence was noticed and was attacked. Now he was fighting for his life, dodging and ducking and trying to get a lucky stab in because he wouldn’t be able to sweet talk this Sniper into dropping his large knife. He moved to the left, then to the right but wasn’t so lucky in evading the harsh kick in the chest. Spy lost wind immediately; temporary stunned, but it was enough for this Sniper to make an attempt at a kill. Doing all he could Spy tilted his body slightly and the kukri struck down his shoulder, missing a soft patch of neck. He could feel the cold blade wiggle around as Sniper tried to remove it.
“Get off my knife.” He smirked finally pulling it out by pushing him away with his foot, at the same time kicking him out of the high hide to plunge to the water below them.
That display of delay was perhaps the most revolting act in his career as a Spy. A perfect opportunity at backstabbing, and he threw it away thanks to some heavy breathing and a wandering mind. He had delayed because he was thinking about Sniper. That was it. He was in far too deep with him. Sniper had made him feel so complete and content in these past few days, but… and had to end here. He felt cold as his eyes slowly closed, waiting for his life blood to leek out of him until there was nothing left but the black abyss of the murky water.
And yet... there was some warmth...
+++
The ward was cold. Spy lay still in his bed, his original bed. The bed that he gave up that started all of this damn mess. Sniper sat by his side as he watched him rest. They were able to save him but barely. Sniper had stupidly left his position and gone off to save his fallen comrade. It was idiotic and careless and completely unprofessional but he couldn’t bear to just leave Spy like that. Maybe he had done it because Spy had just saved him... What was the big deal anyways? If Spy died he’d be back the next day. All of the team were pretty much immortal...
Still, seeing Spy in this awful sight just pained him. It filled him with regret that he couldn’t have done anything to protect him. He could’ve taken the shot if he wasn’t too busy freezing up, thinking he was already dead. Talk about selfish. Even when he did realize he was still alive, it took him some time to actually pick his gun up again. It was his fault. All of it.
Medic came into the ward to see Sniper sitting at his side. Sniper looked at him like he had just been hit with a spotlight but soon lowered his guard. He wasn’t all that enthused to face Medic after what he bluntly confessed to him about fucking Spy the day before, but since he already knew about them it wasn’t doing much more harm to see him like this. This, being his caring side towards Spy or his caring side in general to be frank. Besides, only Medic could’ve saved him from death. Death may not sound like a big deal when they kept returning from the dead more times than Goku from Dragon Ball Z, it was still the most excruciating thing to ever go through. Some were quick and the pain didn’t last that long. Some were slow if they weren’t hit in the vital area, like Spy's would have. Any of them would pick surviving against dying.
“You know I’m surprised that you brought him here.” Medic finally said, walking closer to the bed so he could check up on his patient. “After vhat he did you still felt compelled to save him. Vhen just a few weeks ago you vould’ve let him die.”
“Things change,” he quietly replied. “I guess your plan worked.”
Medic gave a light smile then proceeded to inspect the wound. Probably the plan didn’t go exactly as Medic had intended, really he just wanted them to put their differences aside so it was less screaming he’d have to listen to... though now he and probably everyone else on the team were going to have to start enduring a different kind of screaming. Thank god the van was further away from the base otherwise no one would get much sleep. Medic closed up the patch again and took down some notes then rummaging through his things to grab the medigun. The healthy red aura washed over Spy. It didn’t fix him completely, at most it eased the pain and helped seal up the dreadful slash on his body faster.
“He’ll be fine by tomorrow afternoon. “
Sniper raised an eyebrow. If he had died he would’ve been ready to fight by tomorrow morning. “Geez... maybe I should’ve just left him then.”
“It’s fine. You know vhat zey say. Vhat doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I’m sure Spy could use a break anyways.” Sniper wondered if Medic thought he was better off dead also but was just saying this to make him feel better. “You should go now.”
“I’m fine here.”
“You being here won’t make him recover faster. You need your rest too. Go on. Doctor’s orders.”
Since Medic was speaking in a more gentle tone, Sniper knew that if he continued to disagree that would soon change.

The walk to the van felt just like any walk, but of course when he opened the door and walked in it just felt a little empty. Good lord, did he just get so pathetic that now he couldn’t stand one night without Spy actually there? He grumbled to himself and fell back on the bed, lazily kicking off his shoes and taking off his aviators. His legs dangled over the edge while he looked up at the ceiling. All this felt much more different than any of the past relationships he’d ever been in. There was definitely something more, he knew it but his pride was constantly getting in the way of actually accepting it.
Sniper turned his head to see one of Spy’s ties messily lain right beside him. His hands trailed up to grab the material and pull it up to his head. It gently rested on his lips as he inhaled the scent. He couldn’t stop thinking about Spy. He lusted for him. He hated seeing him in pain and now he didn’t like the idea of him not being there after hours. There was no way he could keep running from the truth on how he felt.
"Fuck... I'm in love with that bloody spook."
Just like that it felt like a huge weight was lifted off his chest and boy did it feel good. Even if he was feeling awfully conflicted and somewhat disgusted at himself, what more was there to lose? His dad’s respect? Sniper had already lost that long ago when he decided to follow this sort of career, so adding ‘By the way, dad I like dicks’ wasn’t going to make much of a difference to what he thought.
There was still the unfilled void of not having told Spy. Already he knew that would change, a plan was formulating in his head. He’d tell him tomorrow.
For the first time in weeks, Sniper slept without a care in the world.
+++
When Spy woke up it was the next morning. He made an attempt to sit up but winced and let out a soft curse at the sudden sting of pain in his shoulder. He still hurt? It took him less than a few seconds for him to realize that he was in the ward. Somehow he had survived that attack yesterday.
“Guten morgen.” Medic said as he was grabbing the supplies he thought he’d need for the day, soon walking over to give a quick check-up.
“Bonjour...” Spy replied, lying back down.
“You’re healing up nicely.” He said grabbing the medigun and giving him a healthy dose of healing waves. Now the cut was gone and all was left was a scar. Spy attempted to sit up again and only winced a little. The area still hurt but it felt better. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fight today though.
“Thank you.”
Tsk. He should’ve died. He deserved to die after that shameful display of ‘spying’. What a joke he was turning himself into. Spy knew it had to stop, he couldn’t continue down this path. Not with Sniper.
“Oh, und Spy?” Medic said pulling Spy away from his thoughts. “I have some news for you.”
+++
Sniper was having a good day already. Not a single shot missed. Maybe it was because he finally accepted how he felt, there was nothing to get him stressed. He hadn’t seen Spy in the morning but he had planned to go to the ward when the battle was over. His hands did shake a little due to the anticipation of actually talking to Spy about it. To be honest he didn’t know how he would go about it, you don’t wanna go in there and say ‘I love ya, mate.’ No... Definitely not. 'I can't live without ya, spook.' No, that wasn't the way to say it either...
Ah well, he knew he’d have the words when he saw him.
When the siren went off, signalling five o'clock and the end of yet another bloody battle. Sniper slouched the rifle over his shoulder and began to head over to the ward. Yet when he got there the place was completely empty. The bed was done up and the suit was gone.
“Guess he was let out early...”
+++
Spy simply sat in silence, absorbing what Medic had just told him. “...Good.” Spy forced himself out of bed while doing his best to ignore the pain. He could tell Medic wanted him to stay put and he knew why when he struggled to even pull on his bloodied shirt and suit. He didn’t care though. “Do you know where Sniper is?”
“Zniping. I’d assume.” Medic replied. "It iz not even lunch time yet."
All he gave was a simple nod before going to leave.
“Oh and Spy...”
Spy turned his head back slightly. What did Medic want now?--
In astounding speed, Medic was all but an inch away from his nose, Ãœbersaw in hand and dangerously close to his throat. Ãœbersaw? What had he done wrong now?
“If I ever find you trying to imitate me again... I vill make you my latest experiment. You can do whatever you like to zese imbeciles on zer team, but if you try and masquerade as me again...” The touch of cool metal met heated skin as the Medic's voice seemed to transform into something far more sinister. "...zen I guarantee you, it shall be ze last time anyone vill have seen or heard of you fully functioning with all of your organs and limbs intact."
Spy slowly swallowed but his expression maintained his calm expression. Any retort that was on the tip of his tongue danced and died as he locked eyes with the German. Well he shouldn’t have expected to have gotten away with acting like Medic without being threatened for it. Only when the saw and its owner were a safe distance away as Medic turned his heel did he allow himself to relax. A small smirk crept onto his face before turning to leave the ward.
+++
Sniper headed straight to his camper van after visiting the ward. Where else would Spy be? Though talk about making his anxiety grow. He wanted to see him, hold him. Tell him how he felt. What else could he do? Once he had his mind set on something there was no use stopping him. His hand reached out to the door knob. He took a deep breath before opening the door.
The place was empty. Spy wasn’t there.
+++
“By the way, Spy. I have some news for you... Your mattress arrived this morning. It was put in your room.”
“...Good... Do you know where Sniper is?”
“Zniping. I’d assume.”
This couldn’t have worked out better for him. He knew he needed to get away from Sniper and what luck that his bed were to finally arrive. After being threatened by Medic he had gone to the van and began packing his things. The place was in a bit of a mess- not anywhere near as horrible like when he first arrived. There were some clothes scattered on the floor and the wall was damaged from when he was shoved against it. Not too far away from that was a slice in the wall from when Sniper tried to cut his head off just yesterday. The memory of the look on his face, flaming red and his neck veins looking as if they were going to burst... Spy couldn’t help but grin.
He looked over to the side of the van that Sniper sat at most of the time. He’d always look out that window, almost like he was on a job and sniping from inside the van. On the floor below the seat was a cigarette butt. Probably the same one that burnt the small hole in Snipers pants not that long ago.
Turning away from these memories he walked over to the bed. On the floor there was a light blood stain. It was obviously from when Spy murdered Sniper on his second night there. Despite all his efforts, Spy couldn't get all of the blood out. Sniper had let it absorb into the wood for far too long. His eyes drifted to the mattress and suddenly flashes of him and Sniper writhing in a sensual rhythm went through his head. With what Spy was doing he began to feel lonely. Cold. He shook his head as he tried to push the memories aside. This was why he needed to leave. This was the path he had chosen. If it meant living alone then so be it. These feelings should’ve been dead long ago when he gave up his identity.
He saw his tie on the pillow and picked it up, not giving a second thought on what it was doing there. Thinking about it would just make him not want to leave. Spy was about to walk out when he remembered one final thing...
+++
It didn’t take much looking to quickly realize that all of Spy’s possessions where gone. The sun had passed down the horizon line and the room was relatively dark save for the translucent red-orange glow, spreading its light across the land and into his small van of a home. Spy had left and Sniper was pretty sure he was finally able to return to his own room.
So he’s not staying here anymore... it’s not a big deal...
But it was. Spy didn’t even bother to let him know or give him a simple ‘good-bye’. He just left the instant he got the chance. Sniper’s expression showed no emotion yet he still could feel that slump of pain roll down his throat going down to his chest. He felt so played with. Maybe he was? Maybe that was Spy’s sick game all along. Mess with his thoughts and feelings till he could get away, laughing at him from the shadows. Well it certainly worked. What a fool he was to let himself feel something for the man. And here he was, going to come out and confess his goddamn love to him. Love? Yeah, right. What a joke that was now.
A slight shine on the bench caught his eye. He walked closer, noting how it glistened and shone as he moved. He lifted up his hand to shield his eyes from a sudden glare of the object. Lowering his hand, he found it to be a fully completed ship in a bottle. Under it laid a note. His heart leapt a little and a glimmer of hope that appeared. Was this going to explain everything? His hands shook slightly as he slowly clutched the paper and read it. There, in elegant handwriting with a flourish of a signature, was only one sentence.
”It wasn’t that hard to finish.”
And that was it. Sniper bit his tongue until it threatened to bleed. He refused to cry.

219 .

Is there really no more to the story? It seems so... inconclusive. Spy and Sniper are most likely going to be stuck together in the same team until the war ends or they retire, and that could easily take twenty years. Hard to believe that they could keep repressing their feelings for so long while in close proximity with each other.


Anyway, I'm looking for a fanfiction. I'm sure it was still available in the Chan until just one week ago, but now when I click on the link I get a 404.

It was a Soldier/Spy short fic. After the events of Meet The Spy, BLU Soldier feels bad for murdering an innocent teammate, especially because BLU Spy doesn't seem to resent him at all. So Soldier gives Spy an "apology blowjob."

It was short, but hot and IC, so I'd love to read it again. I hope somebody saved it.

220 .

Anyone know what became of the story where everyone had superpowers?
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