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No. 426
Every repost is a repost repost. By Ph1shy.


“You ever kiss a guy before?”

Spy, ever the master of cool and composition, froze with his cup of earl grey pausing en route to his slightly parted lips. His brow furrowed before he moved his gaze onto Scout, who was looking at him with a look of pure curiosity.

“And you ‘av chozen to ask me dis why, Scout?”

“I dunno, man, you seem like you’ve been around a lot. You’re pretty much the queerest of all of us, so I figured…,” Scout started. Careful not to offend his teammate, he quickly added, “I mean, I’m sure you get a lot of chicks too, man, so I guess I’m just sayin’ you’re probably the most experienced or something…”

“Again, why do you ask, Scout?”

“I…uh…,” Scout’s lips pouted in concentration as he tried to remember why this particularly…adventurous question had struck him so arbitrarily. “Crap… Uh… I had a reason, man, and it wasn’t cuz I’m some closet homo or nothin’…”

“Heavy! Vat ah you doing?! A sandvich iz not enough to heal your vounds!”

“But is so delicious, doktor!”

“Afterwards, Heavy, afterwards! Come, come, quickly, you ah getting blood on ze carpet…”

Medic and Heavy bustled past the door to the room Scout and Spy were sitting in. They watched the pair go by, Heavy reluctantly lumbering past and Medic fussing over him like a mother hen, mopping up the blood on the oh-my-god-how-the-what-the-hell-happened-to-Heavy’s-arm as if it were no worse than a simple flesh wound.

Seeing the two instantly reminded Scout of the reason why he was sitting in this room in front of Spy asking this seemingly random and profoundly curious question.

“Oh, hey, now I remember! It’s cuz I was walking by Heavy and Medic makin’ out and I stopped to watch a bit and it seemed like they were really into it, which made me wonder if, you know, it’s better with guys or something because man, I remember some of the guys makin’ out with the chicks back at home and I never saw nothing like those two goin’ at it and…,” he stopped, apparently losing his train of thought. Then he looked back at Spy, again with that curiosity dancing in his eyes. “So is it better with guys or somethin’?”

Spy placed his tea rather primly on its saucer and narrowed his eyes with annoyance.

“I never said I ‘av kissed a man, Scout.”

“All right, all right, so have you?”

Spy stopped and turned to face Scout more directly. Something about the boy’s persistence struck him as very odd.

“Scout, why are you so adamant about zis? Surely ‘tis not simply becoz of curiosity?” He asked. “Perhaps you are the one who is- how shall we say eet- ‘in ze clozet?’”

Scout simply shrugged.

“I dunno, man, I mean, if it’s better makin’ out with guys… I like a good kiss, y’know? S’probably pretty queer, but, fuck, so is everyone else out here.”

Spy’s eyebrow quirked at this surprisingly straightforward and honest answer. Ah well. Honesty received may as well be honesty given.

“I see. Very well, yes, Scout, I ‘av kissed men and women.”

“So who was better?”

“Eet depends on zee person, not zee gender, Scout.”

Revelation dawned on Scout’s face like the rising sun. Spy had to discreetly bite his lip from snickering at the dense boy and that look of knowing so obviously lighting up his entire face.

“The person… Man, that makes so much sense! Some of the guys at home ditched their girls after a few weeks and Heavy ‘n Medic have been going at it for months or years probably…Wow.”

Hoping that Scout was satisfied by this, Spy returned to his earl grey (still quite warm, thankfully) and reached for an outdated newspaper, only to be stopped again by that prickling feeling of eyes boring into his skull. He paused in mid-grasp and sighed.

“What now, Scout?”

“So how good are you at kissing?”

Spy took a sip of his tea, and then paused, looking up at the boy over the rim of the cup.

“You would like to know, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, actually, I would.”

Spy couldn’t help but smirk at Scout’s cheekiness. Weeks and months of sexual deprivation must be taking its toll on the boy, though, admittedly, it seemed that Scout was coping with it much better than some of the other members of the team. Or perhaps it was just affection that the boy missed.

So why not indulge the boy? Spy was also fairly narcissistic and relished in the chance of showing off some of his finer skills, one of which was definitely the art of connecting lips.

“Come here,” Spy ordered, setting down his cup and removing his gloves. “You really want to know?”

“Sure, man. But take off that fucking mask. It looks fucking retarded.”

To this Spy only replied with a shark-like grin.

“Zat eez not zee point, Scout,” he said, pulling the boy in closer. “Ze touch, ze breath… eet eez all very important, non?”

He traced his long fingers down Scout’s jawline and then lifted his chin. Scout wore a defiant, cocky sort of look, as if he wasn’t convinced by Spy’s supposed skill. The pink in his cheeks, however, said otherwise.

“You sure have some soft, pansy-ass hands, you frog,” he smirked. To this Spy raised an eyebrow and stretched his lips into a predatory smile. He slid his other hand over the side of Scout’s face, caressing the boy’s smooth skin with his palm and ghosting his fingers through the boy’s short, brown hair.

Scout had just enough time to quickly flicker his tongue over his lips before Spy pressed them to his own. Soft and sweet. Gentle pressure. Spy’s tongue pressingly lightly against his lips, parting them. Scout’s eyelids fluttered as Spy sucked on his lower lip before capturing his mouth whole again. His hand reached up hesitantly, fingertips grazing Spy’s wrist to hold that warm hand in place just for a little bit and…

He stirred as he felt cool air against his face. Spy had pulled back, fingers now wrapped around the handle of his teacup and not in cropped locks of Scout’s hair. Scout licked his lips again, tasting cigarettes and tea. His eyebrows twitched in an effort not to furrow too deeply in disappointment.

“Well? ‘Ow was eet, Scout?” Spy asked, smirking in amusement.

“Eh… O-okay, I guess,” Scout replied, shrugging in an attempt at nonchalance. “Pretty good.”

Spy returned to his paper, a small “hmm,” coming from his throat. He wasn’t exactly smiling, but the corners of his mouth were twitching slightly. He knew what sort of spell he had cast on the boy and he was damn well proud of it.

“Right, well, ‘m gonna head out now,” Scout announced, clearing his throat. He wasn’t nearly as capable of regaining his composure as Spy was. “See you later, man.”

Spy nodded in acknowledgement, but not before flickering a tongue over his lips and shooting another sharkish smile at the boy.

“Yes, later, Scout.”

The blush that graced Scout’s cheeks just before he dashed out the door brought Spy no end of satisfaction.
Marked for deletion (old)
>> No. 427
As he ducked around corners and ghosted down empty passageways keeping a watchful eye out for any intruders or obstacles, Scout realized that Spy had it a lot harder than he thought.

Though, to be frank, it’s not like Spy had to lug around an obnoxiously decorated box while he was at it. Except maybe when he was stealing the other team’s intel… And he DID have to brave through the opposing team’s spy checks, usually courtesy of their Pyro. Then there was always the threat of the other Spy, who was just as quiet and just as deadly as he was…

All right, so maybe this “mission” wasn’t quite as dangerous as what Spy had to go through during the usual skirmishes, but it still was a bit of a pain in the ass to go through. Scout was used to running willy-nilly in broad daylight, bonking anything that might get in his way. He had his speed to rely on to get him out of any messes. None of this “sneaky guy” stuff.

And yet here he was, emulating the Frenchman’s movements and mannerisms in an effort to get to his goal as discreetly as possible. While there was the satisfaction to be gained from completing his “mission” successfully, he also had his dignity at stake. If any of the guys saw him with what he was holding, he’d never hear the end of it. They’d probably ask all sorts of irritating questions like what was in the box, why he was carrying it, or even more mortifying, what-or who-it was for. Scout had never been interrogated before, but he had a feeling that he’d be pretty bad at standing up to that sort of pressure.

He shuddered at the thought and in the moment he dropped his guard, he ran straight into a very familiar pinstripe suit laced with a very familiar brand of cologne.

“Scout? What are you doing here?” Spy asked.

Scout stared wide-eyed at the man in front of him. Of all the goddamn people…

“I… Er… What the hell YOU doin’ here?” he retorted. Lame, but he couldn’t quite think of anything else to say at the moment.

“Thees eez our base, Scout, eef I am not miztaken. We are free to walk around here, non?” Spy said, quirking an eyebrow. Then he noticed a flash of violent yellow. “What eez zat?”

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Scout cringed at the audible crinkle of wrapping paper as he tried vainly to hide the damn box from Spy’s prying eyes.

“N-Nothin’, man. I mean, none of your business, anyway,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. That was, of course, a bald-faced lie.

“Hm? Ah, good. Eet eez quite hideous,” Spy commented.

This struck a nerve in Scout. Strangely.

“Yeah? Well no one asked you, fucking frog,” he shot back. Spy’s eyes widened slightly at Scout’s defensive reaction.

“’Av I offended you, Scout?” he asked, more out of politeness than actual curiosity. “Zis box, eez eet special?”

Scout’s cheeks reddened. He should’ve just brushed it off and then maybe casually made his way out, coming back later to finish his “mission.” Or he could’ve come up with a clever and plausible alibi as to why he was carrying around such a conspicuous package. Or maybe he could’ve feigned some sort of distraction and made a quick and clean getaway. But this was Scout, and quite honestly, the boy lacked that sort of forethought. He wasn’t good at forming coherent thoughts under sudden pressure.

“S-sorta,” he muttered, jerking the bill of his cap down over his face. The wrapping paper crinkled as his grip on the box tightened. “Er, I mean, I hope it is…for…uh…”

Spy looked back at Scout, brow furrowed in sincere confusion and curiosity. Normally, he didn’t give a second thoughts to the absurd behavior of his teammates, but Scout was acting quite strange, and not in a typical, “that’s-the-kind-of-crazy-fucker-that-he-is-character-quirk” sort of way. Scout was muttering something in a very low and very fast voice and Spy was having difficulty hearing, so he leaned in to try to decipher what the blasted kid was saying…

…Only to jerk back to avoid getting smacked by the box that Scout was now offering him with slightly trembling hands. Oh god, that box was hideous.


“J-just take it.”

Spy opened his mouth to say something, question him perhaps, or maybe shoot back a witty retort, but before he could react, it seemed that Scout’s brain finally kicked back into gear and sent the boy tearing off in the opposite direction. The box fell to the ground with a quiet “flump,” indicating something rather light inside. Spy reached down for the box while still staring incredulously in the direction of Scout’s departure.

After another glance at the empty hallway, Spy looked down at the box, cringing slightly as that horribly blinding yellow. There was a tag dangling off of the equally shocking red ribbon. He gingerly pulled it off and opened it.

“Happy birthday, cockfag”

No signature or anything, not that it was needed. Spy bit his lip to keep from laughing too loudly. He managed a few quiet snorts of amusement as he unwrapped the present. The box itself was, thankfully, a demure and unassuming brown. He scanned the area for any of his teammates and, finding none, headed off towards his room, leaving the wrapping paper and ribbon behind. He’d let someone else clean it up. That was enough yellow for an entire lifetime.
>> No. 428



“AUGHH--“ Thud. “FUCK”. Crash. “Ow… Goddamn, who the…”

Scout fell out of the (thankfully small) tree he was napping in, only to look up into the emotionless eyes of Spy. His mouth fell slightly agape as his brain went on the fritz again.

Spy sighed.

“Get up, you stupid boy.”

Scout wordlessly obeyed. At this point, he didn’t really know how to react, especially after running away from Spy like a goddamn pussy. It was just a birthday present, for chrissake… Of course, this fact just made him feel even more pathetic, and he continued to hold his silence.

Spy awkwardly dusted some dirt off of Scout’s shoulders and chest. He was as unreadable as ever as he stared straight into Scout’s eyes.

“Sank you.”


“For zee present,” Spy clarified patiently. “Eet waz… very soughtful.”

“I believe it iz zee first present ‘av received in years. Sank you very much.”

Expressions of appreciation did not come often from Spy, and Scout knew this. A warm feeling created by this rare sign of thanks bubbled in his stomach, rose up into and past his heart, and defrosted his brain. He broke out into a grin that reflected the sunny glow that was spreading inside of him. Gratitude for gratitude, it could be said.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty awesome gift, huh?” he said, smile still threatening to split his face in two. That trademark cockiness was coming back to him, an indication that he had very quickly gotten over his previous mortification.

“Do not ruin eet, Scout,” Spy sniffed, drawing a cigarette out of his new cigarette case. There was, however, no malice in his voice or sign of irritation in his gestures. Scout noticed this and decided to, well, run with it.

“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking awesome. And it didn’t come by easy or nothin’ either,” he rambled on, giving Spy a cheeky look. “I mean, for all the shit I went through to get that thing, man, I should definitely get somethin’ back.”


“I’m pretty modest, so I don’t need nothin’ big.”

“I am warning you…”

“How ‘bout a kiss for good…”

“Scou--,” Spy stopped and gave him a wry look. “What?”

“Hahaha, nothin’ man. Just joking. Gotta hurry back or Medic’s gonna ubersaw our asses or something,” Scout laughed. “What, you didn’t actually believe me, didja? Fucking frog.”

Spy hummed in amusement. How very quickly Scout changed moods. It fit his flighty, restless nature, though, so he wasn’t too surprised.

…Not as surprised as Scout was when he leaned over and planted a very sweet, very tender kiss on the boy’s lips anyway.

>> No. 429
Something was wrong with Scout.

The entire team felt it. Things were a lot quieter, for one, probably because it was Scout’s job to piss everyone off and get them all riled up into shouting matches and things. With no irritated young baseball player to slap at, tease, yell at, or punch, the team felt sort of listless and extremely uncomfortable. That’s just how ingrained Scout’s noisy presence was within the base.

Spy was especially bothered by it, and was bothered by the fact that he was bothered by it. By all accounts, he should’ve been happy the brat had finally quieted down and left the base in peace, but the silence within the base was unsettling, and while Spy was accustomed to roaming empty corridors in the enemy’s base, when that same quiet settled within his own halls, it just felt strange.

It went against his austere code of discipline and it certainly was uncharacteristic of a man who was paid to be detached and aloof in all things, but he decided to visit Scout anyway. It wasn’t particularly evident to the other members of the team (because he was good at his job of being discreet), but Spy felt close enough to Scout to merit a visit, just to see how he was doing. The sort of thing “normal people” often did for loved ones.

When Spy got to Scout’s room, all he could hear was silence. He slowly crept in and saw Scout lying in bed, seemingly catatonic. This was even more unsettling than, say, if the boy was bawling his eyes out into his pillow or screaming some unnamable blasphemy to the high heavens because in the case of either, at least he’d be doing /something/. Despite his many trips to the Orsay and Pompidou in his life, Spy had never quite seen something as surrealistic as Scout standing still for such an extended period of time.

He walked over to Scout’s bed and cautiously sat down, now quite unnerved at Scout unresponsiveness. It was only when he spoke that Scout finally responded.

“What’s wrong, ‘tit?”

After a pause, Scout rolled over so that his back was facing Spy and sighed. Frowning, Spy laid a cautious hand on Scout’s arm.


And Scout finally sat up and looked Spy in the face. Spy had thought Scout standing still was strange; he didn’t even know what to think over the expression on Scout’s face. Hell, he didn’t even know Scout was capable of making such an expression. The idea that Scout might actually be an enemy Spy in disguise quickly darted through Spy’s brain being replaced by a feeling of terrible unease.

Scout was sad. That was all there was to it. It was remarkably easy to describe, but the fact that it was /Scout/ made it strange. On most days, it seemed like the boy had the limited emotional range of happy, obnoxious, and angry. The fact that he could be genuinely sad seemed unthinkable. And yet here he was with the face that proved it.

It was not a good feeling, looking into that face.

“Spy, I…”

Scout stopped himself, biting his lip as he seemed to reevaluate his next course of action. He closed his eyes and sighed quietly.


Suddenly, as if some spell had been broken, Scout cracked into a grin and laughed weakly. Like a broken watch ticking again, his movements seemed to flow back into his body and he seemed to return to his jumpy, active self again. He lightly punched Spy in the shoulder and laughed.

“Had ya goin’ there, huh? Pretty good, right? Heh, you actually sounded pretty worried there, man…”

Scout continued to giggle to himself as Spy looked back at him with a stonily.

“If there is something wrong, Scout, say it. Do not pretend nothing is wrong.”

“What, man? I was just kidding. Must be ‘cuz I’m a great actor or s-something.”

The slight tremor in Scout’s voice did not go unnoticed.


“Hahaha, you’re always so serious. It’s funny, man, real funny. Should’ve seen the look on your face and…”

The faltering smile that Scout was so determinedly trying to hold up did not go unnoticed either.

“B-Bet I had the whole team freaked out and stuff, hahaha… hah…”

The tear that managed to squeezed out of the corner of Scout’s eye was as plain as day.

“I… I just…”

And Spy caught the falling vase just as it was about to his the floor and shatter. Frowning, he deftly looped an arm over Scout’s shoulder and pulled the boy into tight, secure embrace. There really was no reason for Scout to put up some sort of sad, flimsy façade to try to fool him into thinking he was okay. The team teased the boy for always being hyper and loud, but that didn’t mean he was expected to always like that. Everyone had emotions of every shape and color, and no one knew that better than a man who suppressed them daily as a job. Because his profession demanded it, Spy had become quite intimate with the workings of human emotions. Understanding them was the best way to deal with them and eventually hide them, after all and he was at a point where he could observe emotions almost scientifically. That did not mean that he couldn’t empathize with them.

Spy felt tears soaking into his suit, but there were no sobs. It seemed that Scout expressed sorrow quietly; so different from his loud, raucous shouts of exuberance or satisfaction.

Scout hugged back, grip tightening as the tears flowed more freely. Spy rubbed his back, whispering something low in French. Scout had no idea what he was saying, but felt comforted by the words anyway. They were quiet and sweet and meant nothing to him, but sounded pleasant. He let the warmth, the words, and homey feel of Spy rubbing his back engulf him like a secure little place where he could stay and cry indefinitely.

Scout eventually fell asleep, and Spy tucked him in, feeling somewhat satisfied at being able to be a source of comfort for the boy. As he headed out, he noticed a letter on a table, but decided against reading it. That, he figured, was a kind of intel best left to the original owner.

>> No. 430

Sniper was feeling good. He was feeling real good. The music was loud, the booze was bloody awesome and a cute little blonde thing was sidling up next to him, giggling coyly. He pulled her in with a roguish grin and relished in the warmth of her body nestling into his.

“Sniper,” she hummed contentedly. Her voice was surprisingly boyish, though not unpleasantly so. He quirked an eyebrow, but smiled back.


It was getting a little warmer and he leaned in just a little bit closer.


Oh god, her lips were /right there/.

“Hey, Sniper, man.”

Sniper blinked awake, realizing very quickly that it was all a dream and that the funny accent in blonde’s voice was actually Scout who was next to his bed and looking up at him expectantly. He rubbed his eyes and yawned hugely, mildly irritated by the interruption of what probably would’ve been a very satisfying night of sleep.

“Nnghh… Wu’izzit, mate?”

Even through his drowsy stupor, Sniper noticed a concerned sort of look on Scout’s face. The boy worried on his lip and wore a sidelong glance, avoiding eye contact, and was that a hint of a blush in his cheeks?

“H-hey… Uh… You… You ain’t queer or nothin’, right?” Scout asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sniper furrowed his brow in confusion and also noticed that he suddenly felt quite awake now. He wasn’t really sure where Scout was going with this, but decided to proceed cautiously. Just in case. Something about Scout’s shifty behavior brought about a feeling of concern for the boy.

“Not really, ‘less you mean somethin’ else,” he answered with a shrug. “Somethin’ bothering you, mate?”

Scout continued to look at the floor and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He sighed quietly and then patted his face, as if he were preparing for…something.

“Look, man, I know this is gonna sound real funny and all, and I’m not a faggot or anything but… uh…” Scout paused again, looking quite sheepish and extremely nervous. He closed his eyes and heaved another sigh. “D’ya… D’ya mind if I sleep with you tonight?”

Sniper stopped for a moment and looked back at Scout. The request was somewhat unexpected and now several questions were running through his head, many of which could not be satisfied with Scout’s earlier reassurance that he was not gay.

“L-look, I know it’s pretty fucking queer and all but… but I can’t sleep because… well… y’know… anyway, and, er, back in Boston I’d usually go to my older brother because he was the oldest and… well, yeah,” Scout explained in a very halting, vague, and incomprehensible way.

And suddenly it hit Sniper on the head.

“It was Spy’s story tonight, wasn’t it?”

The smallest glimmer of relief at knowing /some/body understood flashed across Scout’s face.

“Y-yeah. Don’t tell anybody, man.”

“A-And, y’know, if you don’t wanna, I’d understand. S’just that it’s a lot easier to sleep when someone’s next to you, y’know? It’s warmer and all that,” Scout said, sounding a little more confident now that he knew Sniper wouldn’t chase him out with his kukri or a jar of piss. “I mean… I’m tired, man, and I don’t wanna stay up all night or anything b-but…”

He broke off into a shudder as he remembered Spy’s chilling tale during dinner that night.

Sniper couldn’t help but be a little amused at Scout’s endearingly childish predicament. He grew up without siblings so he learned very quickly to not be afraid of anything because he knew he wouldn’t have anyone to go to if he did. He could understand the feeling of fear that could only be dispelled by the presence of another person, though. Somehow.

And admittedly, Spy’s story /was/ pretty freaky. He personally didn’t mind it all too much, but wasn’t particularly surprised to find out that Scout did. A lot.

So he scooted over on his small bed and made a little bit of space for Scout.

“Don’t particularly care, as long as you don’t try anything funny, ‘right, mate?”

Scout’s eyes lit up for a brief moment before he caught himself and nodded slowly in understanding. Despite his best efforts to appear grave and serious, he couldn’t mask the overflowing relief in his eyes.

There was a rustling of sheets as the two readjusted their positions in the bed. With two bodies sharing heat, things were much warmer and the two began drifting to sleep immediately. Sniper vaguely noted arms wrapping around his body but was too sleepy to take seriously. And the way Scout was pressing into him reminded him a bit of that pretty blonde in his dream. Scout may have been a brunette and he may not have been a woman, but he was still quite warm and quite comfortable to be next to and Sniper ended up falling asleep with his arm wrapped protectively around Scout’s shoulder.

Older brother indeed.
>> No. 431
Basically, he was wrongfully interested in the wrong song at the wrong place during the wrong time.

But it as just for a /second/. Or two. Actually, he was at least thirty seconds into the song when Spy came in. At the wrong time. Hell, at the wrong /line/ even.

/…think about you I touch myself/

Spy took one step into the room and froze, staring straight at the radio. Wholly mortified, Scout froze too, staring straight at Spy.

/…get down on my knees, I'd do anything for you/

Spy’s soft laughter and curling lips broke the spell. Scout snapped back to life and slammed his hand down onto the radio, pretty much forgetting that the radio was tuned by dials. God, he could feel the heat on his face, was probably redder than his shirt by now shit shit shit.

“Hmm? What’s the name of that song, boy?”

“Hell if I know. Man, I’m not actually /listenin’/ to it, y’know? Just sorta uh flippin’ through the channels,” Scout replied in a voice that was much too nervous and high-pitched to resemble the casual, unbothered tone he was going for.

“Ah, that is unfortunate. It is very…eh, ‘catchy,’ as you say it,” Spy mused. “Especially that one line… How did it go?”

Scout shrugged a few times, now gathering a little bit more composure and looking a great deal calmer than he was just a second ago. That precariously built defense, however was about to come crashing down.

Spy seemed to forget his earlier question and instead hummed along with the song, looking like he actually was enjoying it.

As the tune picked up, Scout felt a familiar prickling on his neck. He turned and jumped to see Spy looking straight at him. The worst part was that it was with that half-lidded, brickshittingly scary look that was both frighteningly predatory and infuriatingly calm and usually made him feel kinda funny in his pants.

And then he noticed Spy's lips.

/When I think about you, I touch myself/

The cockfag was mouthing the words to the song with such perfect precision that he may as well been a female Australian pop-star crooning lyrics of passion to a crowd of adoring fans, when really he was a surly (and suave and sophisticated) Frenchman addressing a hormonal and easily excited teenage boy.

And the worst part? Scout didn’t even /hear/ the lyrics in the singer’s actual voice. He was hearing it in that fucking frog’s nasally, snooty French accent. The radio may as well not have existed at all, and Spy could’ve very well just sauntered into the room, turned to Scout and just /said/, “When I think about you, I touch myself.” Just like that, Americanized speech patterns and all.

Despite all logical thought, which was currently running pell-mell in unorganized chaos in Scout’s already disarrayed brain, he still found it the hottest thing ever. It didn’t matter that Spy would /never/ say something like that in so outright a manner (No no, that stupid fucking frog would use a bunch of flowery language and words Scout didn’t even understand), or that the radio was still playing and that the words belonged to an Aussie chick some many miles away getting beamed into a little metal box, or that Spy probably didn’t even mean the lyrics at /all/. What mattered was that Scout’s already overactive imagination and jumpy nature was drawing a bunch of ludicrous conclusions all over the map and it was all being converted into the physical reaction of blood rushing to his nether regions.

Scout seized up for a split second, frozen by all the illogical processing that was fritzing his brain, and then bolted out of the room as his autopilot turned on and took the course of action it best knew how to do- running.

Spy watched with amusement as the door swayed behind the speeding bolt of red that had just torn out of the room like an emotionally-charged cyclone. He chuckled as he turned off the radio. He actually didn’t like the song. The lyrics were simple and inelegantly passionate; not his style at all. It was, however, perfect for hormonal boys whose thought processes concerning romance were probably just as crude and just as predictable.

“Stupid boy,” he murmured, lips curling. “To think that I would actually have to resort to touching /myself/.”
>> No. 825
I love this. There's no other way of putting it I AM A FAGGOT HUMP MY RUMP

I openly laughed at the last section and all of it was in character and set up perfectly DESU
>> No. 826
I love this thread too
scouts bi-curious is cute!!!
>> No. 829
THANK YOU FOR REPOSTING THIS augh I'm so glad someone fukken saved it.
>> No. 865
So wonderful. <3
>> No. 970
Wow this story is surprisingly epic.
>> No. 971
I love this fic. So much.
>> No. 975
If you're not the author, SAGE LIKE A SMART LIL' MOFO. Gettin' my hopes up like that! :C

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