Hi everyone! I've been lurking here on the chan for the past couple months, and figured that I'd post! Anyway, this is the first piece I've written for the TF2 fandom. You may have already seen this story posted on Sparkledog Central (along with its subsequent chapters), but I'd figure I'd post it here as well, simply because I really admire you all as artists and feel as if I could get some helpful feedback that Sparkledog Central just doesn't provide, you know? Either way, here is the first chapter. The others just sort of detail the course of their relationship. I love the ScoutxSniper dynamic so much, so I went on a writing fit and the next thing I knew I had 20,000 words dedicated to it. If you all like it, I'll gladly post the rest! Here goes: Was it even possible to divide one's attention so? Or rather, was it wise to assign one ear and eye a direction, a corner, to commit the sensory flesh to sounds and sights of one specific instance? Perhaps, even in this time of stand still, a full and wholly functioning guard would be the wisest to possess, and yet was he not doing his best to ensure his safety? The man had the scope a sniper rifle fixed to his eye for God's Sake— Not that he intended to pull the trigger his gloved finger wraps around. Not that his bated, tense breath that hisses beneath his clenched white teeth is restrained so that he may hear the patter of his enemy racing from the doomed line of sight that was the wasteland of guaranteed death that swam below the Sniper's nest. Although he must admit, the silence was necessary as long as he wanted to prevent any lethal prods to the back... No, it is not the concentration of fatal marksmanship that holds Sniper captive in this evening that marks day number two of ceasefire. He is simply keeping watch; careful to keep the dot out sight so as to prevent suspicion or stir up worry or bloodthirsty rumours, he simply watches the barricaded entrances to the base lying opposite their own, the metallic planks of the building's foundation gleaming an orangish in this oddly still night. How was it that the old bat's voice alone seemed to command the tides of combat, that the field below that is still stained with the blood of war is perfectly quiet only because a woman over an intercom said so? Sniper liked a good mystery, a challenging riddle, but it was an eerie feeling, knowing that, when it came right bloody down to it, the enigma boiled down to a small, wispy thread that in turn bound itself with his own fate... He emits a guttural grunt mixed of disapproval and dismissal of his own thoughts, shifting his back so his spine cracks his discs into place, readjusting the rifle and settling back into a concentrated stupor. Just what the Hell was he looking out for? What was he hoping to gain by wasting one of the few evenings he had to call his own? Ceasefires, as he'd learned from ten hard years of fighting this overdrawn, tiresome war, could end any time without warning. Sometimes a whole six months went by without the drones of sirens, while others Sergei could barely cram lunch down his throat before another unexpected mission was set to begin in sixty seconds... Dell always had a small sentry kept on snooze, placed discreetly near their barracks during the times of peace; he too must've found it all so dreamy, this idealistic concept of sudden and indefinite bliss. It helped ease Sniper's sense of paranoia, knowing that one of his less maniacal comrades also operated with a thin sheet of vigilance rooted in the back of his mind... When Sniper was younger, still a new recruit, the first instance of ceasefire had elevated his spirits, heightened by the knowledge that rest was underway—and yet, as his service grew more in years, he'd grown to realize they meant nothing—it would only be a matter of time until death crawled back up behind them again. Too many times had he been caught off guard, but no, no longer would he have his hopes for the war's end be slashed away by the ever familiar sounds of screams, explosions, and the raspy, feminine countdown of destruction. He'd fallen for it much too easily before. But this, this is Sniper simply invading the privacy of the opposition, an intrusion of BLU's personal being. Of course he was very much relieved they showed no signs of hostility from across the fields! Other times someone from whichever side would try to be slick and do this or that as means of sabotage, despite it breaking the treaty. He lowers the rifle, bringing his calloused fingers to his temple, removing his trademark sunglasses and meditating in silence save the soft breathing he exhales deeply from within him, the rushing pace of his heart slowing to a wistful thump, light against his breast... Perhaps, this really would be the time of permanent surrender. Perhaps he could simply lay it all to rest and enjoy his time back in the base with the others—though all the while remaining true to his nature and retreating to bed before he got too involved in their social activities, or too loose lipped from tangy liquor Tavish had packed away in his bag of Scottish delights. After all, by hocking himself away in his nest and dwelling on the end, he only took away these docile moments from himself. But before heading down and back to the base, Sniper wants to give it a few moments to let it get dark so that he may crawl down unnoticed. He rests his wrists upon his knees, his back hunched in a state of relaxed repose. Even dull, thoughtless moments like these rang with meaning without the screech and hum of carnage underneath them. "Blimey, 's been a good while since I enjoyed one o' these," Sniper sighs, lifting a dusty carton of cigarettes from underneath a pile of old jars and coffee filters (when you're expected to snipe all night like war time often called for, caffeine and nicotine—as was a handy place to relieve oneself—was painfully necessary). "Heh, never did give these back to Luc," Sniper grumbles, remembering the scene in which he approached the smarmy Frenchman for the pack as if it was simply a part of this dreary life. "Git wouldn't let me hear the end of it when I told 'im I'd lost the damn things..." he snarls before tossing the carton back onto the table. Didn't matter much, The Spy'd long since provided new ones for himself. Besides, Sniper could use the extra sticks... It only takes Sniper a second or two to find the translucent blue lighter amongst the litter, and he flicks the flame, and he can hear the burning of the cigarette as he takes a sharp inhale of relaxing smoke, the smoggy air of the humid nest almost igniting under its influence. "Hey there, slugger, smokin's bad for ya health, ya know," a sharp, disapproving voice calls from somewhere on Sniper's right, the man instantly producing a kukri from his hip and pointing it menacingly at the young, lean figure who holds his hands up innocently. "Whoa, calm down there, Snipes, 's just me!" he chuckles nervously, Snipes however not relaxing his stance. "I ain't a Spy!—you could throw your jarate on me for kicks—it wouldn't do nothin'—!" Sniper grimaces at the edge of the Bostonian accent Scout haughtily snaps at his enemy, grunting however in approval before letting a strained silence wash between them. Though it doesn't take the irritable edge the young man's sudden visit has provided from Sniper's already dreadfully sour mood. There were simply some moments in which Sniper would have rathered an attempt on his life by BLU's Spy than airheaded chatter by BLU's Scout. "Since when d'you give a shit 'bout my health?" Sniper grunts, his curled lips upturned in a scowl Scout can only assume is a product of some unspoken disgust over his interrupted "quiet time" the man internalises. "You ain't even gonna offer me a seat, though?" Scout pretends to scold the grumbling figure, and he laughs in an attempt to bring a smile to Sniper's face—his grin slides off quickly as he sees the unamused expression on his face, the older man clearing a spot on a crate in the corner nonetheless. And so it goes for a few of the most painful seconds in Scout's life. The weary Australian simply takes drag after drag before blowing the smoke dully through his nose, Scout opening and closing his mouth as he thinks of something to say, the stony gaze of his friend however scaring him out of saying it "If you've got sumthin' to say, gremlin, spit it out and quit gaping at me like a bloody goldfish!" Sniper snaps before crushing the cigarette against the ground and flicking the butt. "And it better not be any more of your anti-smoking drivel—" "I wasn't gonna say nothin' about it—!" "Righto, otherwise I would've flung you back down the ladder, mate..." Sniper grins in a mock cheery tone, Scout however scowling before folding his long arms across his lean chest. "Heyyo, Snipes, ain't no need for the sass for real!" Scout snaps, waving the wafting smoke toward the cracks in the wooden planks, trying to air the place out. "Can we open the hatch or somethin'—?" "No, you idiot, or else they'll hear us down there—!" "Jeeze, you just gonna let your own guest choke ta death, though?" "Look Scout, I dunno where your sudden fascination with social etiquette came from, but I ain't too keen on this posh little 'tude—'specially 'cause I didn't ask for your company in the first place," Sniper gestures toward the hatch on the floor, Scout however not budging. "Feel free to bugger on off any time, though, daisy," Sniper grins, Scout narrowing his eyes. The two fall prey to the same silence that tends to overcome them in times like these, Scout lighting a small candle and covering the trusty crack Sniper used to snipe through so as to prevent any light from giving away their position. After all, the sight of the BLU Scout resting casually in the nest of the RED Sniper would undoubtedly bring about attention and curiosity from their otherwise inattentive comrades... "You know, anyone with a functionin' brain would've taken the hint that I don't want to be bothered by now and gone on about their damn business," "Too bad so sad, dingo, ain't gonna happen—I ain't goin' nowhere, so you sit back and enjoy it!" Scout grins, his heart lightening as, despite the irritated groan Sniper emits, he sees the corners of the older man's lips twitch upward in a smile of resignation as well. "'Specially ain't gettin' rid of me so easy after all I had to go through to get up here—you ain't got no idea how many 'xcuses I gotta give those losers in order to come outside so I can see ya," Scout scratches behind his neck as he attempts to keep his voice rooted in evenness, though Sniper can hear the beg for validation on the edge of his voice. "Cute," Sniper chuckles, Scout folding his arms and nodding seriously. "Hell yeah, it is! Now I ain't got much time up here, they're gonna know somethin's up if I stay out too long—your REDS know you outside too?" Scout asks curiously, furrowing his brow as Sniper laughs a deep chuckle, shaking his head. "I'm a grown man, Scoots, I don't need a curfew," he grins, Scout punching him playfully on the arm and pouting. "Besides, never was the life of the party, figure they don't mind much when I step outside for a breather," "Hey, before you go thinkin' shit, it ain't because I need watchin', alright? They're just afraid you creepy REDs'll try somethin' funny or some shit!" Scout explains, and Sniper shakes his head, wondering just where the Hell it was he turned on the path of life that led this smart assed boy of the opposite team some twelve years younger than himself to be his most cherished friend in all the world—not that he'd ever tell the brat he was... "And it seems like they ain't too far off! What the Hell're you even doin' up here, though? You got your weapons 'nd shit, you tryin' to kill us or somethin'?" And Sniper rolls his eyes before waving a hand as if to dismiss the subject altogether, because he really was in no mood to discuss his own subconscious fear of falling too deep into the feeling of freedom, of peace, only for it all to be wrenched away under the Announcer's call. He would simply wait it out here, wait for the inevitable day in which they were all summoned back under the command to kill. And like Hell he'd ever tell the boy he dreads the day he would ever have to fire a shot into his head. It seemed too delicate enough of a topic as it was, that these two, who've already killed countless members of the other's respective teams over and over again, would someday, someday reach the point where it would come down to the fatal stroke or shot or bludgeon between them; Though Sniper would rather die before harm his Scout—he loved him too even let the images root themselves in the eyes of his conscious... "I've a noisy crew, sometimes it's nice to just get out and think—that's where havin' your own nest comes in handy—I figured it would draw less attention than if I were to waltz about down on the fields there—'course I totally forgot I had my own personal noisemaker on BLU, too," Sniper grins before taking the scalding pot of water he'd been preparing in the coffee pot and pouring the steaming contents into two mugs. Scout smirks quietly, watching his friend dab two teabags serenely into the liquid, taking the moment of his distraction as an opportunity to admire the man he'd looked up to since almost the beginning. He can remember their first meeting; late at night, though still light due to the intense summer that raged a year ago when he first joined, the damn mutant had been rummaging outside the base, hoping to climb the apple tree near the side and pluck a few pieces off its branches... It was lucky for Scout the Sniper came out, shotgun in hand, for when the boy fell from surprise from the tree, any other bloke would've shot on sight—But Sniper knew this boy meant no harm with his hands carrying nearly a bushel of the stolen fruit, and simply laughed as he found him a bag from inside the base, handing it kindly to the swift, blue tinted thief. He'd told him to scram before any of the others found out, but never expected it to happen every night. But it did, and Sniper would stand out there with a bag, a disapproving smirk aimed in the approaching boy's direction. Every time escorted him back to his base for good measure, trapped in dialogue with Scout, who could never resist and opportunity to talk, even if it was with his enemy. Just by looking at him, Sniper knew this was BLU's Scout he was slowly starting to befriend, but Scout didn't figure out the role of his newfound friend until almost getting his head shot off by the gruff Australian, cowering in fear as a warning shot whizzing past his ear was enough to give Scout the idea not to come any closer to the intel. But still, neither Sniper nor Scout ever imagined that giving the boy a ruddy bag would lead to him finding a friend in the spastic bastard, nor to actually protecting him on the battlefield, or falling in love with him— It always turned Scout's cheeks so hot, the reminder that Sniper considered it more of a priority to watch out for Scout's safety than his own... It was a mark of their friendship, the bond between them, when Sniper had seen the injured, almost dying Scout immobilised in the sewers of the BLU base. Heinrich, though a trusty BLU doctor, had the lives of many others at stake for one, and escaping Heinrich's radar was a risk Scout had to take when messing with underground, alternate routes. Without hesitation or a twinge of rationality, Sniper had swooped from his post and down into the pipes, carrying the young man with a speed that, Scout had noticed even in his state, could damn well rival his own in an emergency... And that was it exactly; he had been an emergency. Scout was the only thing on Sniper's mind that day and he knew it. Even as they whizzed past their comrades, who had to shake their heads to make sure they really hadn't seen their Sniper rushing toward the infirmary with an enemy Scout in his arms, he only ran forward. Scout can only gaze softly at the man who was more or less his hero (in a variety of ways...), his eyes glazed with longing as he surveys the man still bustling over the heated beverage, only now noticing that the man had his hat and glasses off... Scout decides not to say anything, his face flushing a healthy red as he remembers that the hat and glasses had always stayed on, Sniper nearly regarding them as children, and grew annoyed whenever Scout had playfully tried to take them. Those grey eyes, those same grey eyes Scout had only seen twice without the obstruction of lenses, and yet long since committed to memory, they seem so warm and caring as he adds just the perfect amount of milk he knew Scout likes in his tea. The young man accepts the mug into his hands with a soft "Thanks" before he careens his gaze so it fixes itself on the slowly undulating liquid, too hot to sip just yet. "You need to be careful, climbing up here—if one of my lot sees you, they could think you're up to no good," "Yeah, well, you'd stick up for me, right? You'd tell 'em we're friends and I don't mean nothin' by it!" Scout beams, Sniper laughing incredulously, shaking his head as always. "Why you always gotta shake your head like you don't believe what you're hearin' or somethin'—?" "Because half the time I don't, and as much as I'd like to stick up for you, I can't say I'm in the mood to openly admitting to committing treason," Sniper explains moodily, taking a sip of his tea and continuing promptly. "I'd rather not get our contracts terminated and discharged if I can avoid it," Scout nods and lets a soft mutter of understanding slip through his pursed lips. "I'd quit coming up here if I were you, doosie," Sniper sighs, Scout scoffing and twirling the mug about in his hands. "I woulda thought it wouldn't be that big o' deal, bein' ceasefire an' all..." "Well, things are more complicated than they seem; and you need to watch out after yourself," Sniper warns. "Just because we're calmin' it all down for now, that doesn't mean one of us doesn't have a gun pointin' 'round our base at all times—" "Yeah, yeah..." "And they could think you're trying to explode the nest—" "What, do I look like a freakin' Demoman? You need to tell your REDS to settle down and quit drawin' those conclusions—" "Settlin' down and turning blind eyes is how people get slaughtered out here, mate! I've seen it happen a million times over, the team that snoozes, they always get destroyed—" "So jeeze, what am I suppos'ta do then, walk around with a fuckin' minigun?" Scout booms, Sniper rolling his eyes and growling from irritation. "You need to be more watchful of yourself, make sure that you're ready for anythin' at any time—" "Alright, alright, champ, I came up here 'cause I wanted to see you, not get no lectures on self defense from no dingbat—" "Well 'scuse for simply tryin' to make sure they aren't scrapin' your pasty gibs off the side of a building, love!" "That's where you're worryin', I got this!" Scout beams, Sniper smirking at his smugness. "You ain't gotta worry about me, slugger..." "There're only so many times I can save you out there, Lawrence..." Sniper mumbles, Scout jumping at the usage of his real name, his eyes rooted onto the man who sits in the opposite corner still. It always startled him when they addressed each other by their actual names, the only things left untainted by the identities of war. Scout always did love the Australian growl Sniper packed behind the pronunciation of a name Scout had never been content with, shuddering pleasantly on the rarity he heard it huskily spoken... "I mean it, boyo I've got my eye on you out there, but..." Scout blushes as he can tell by the hazy, distant look in Sniper's eyes that he too remembers the day he risked both their lives to save the younger of the two. "S'alright, I know what you mean..." "I dunno what I'd do if I ever lost you, gremlin," Sniper clears his throat, avoiding his eye by taking a sip of tea. "Well, you won't!" Scout assures him with that familiar cockiness, blushing however as he winks at the older man. "I promise..." Scout nods, falling silent as he meets his best friend's eyes. "Jack?" Scout asks quietly, catching Sniper's attention, and the stillness in the air is debilitating, the silence heavy and yet so perfect. "Jack," Scout asks again, sighing a bit as he snatches the cap from his head, kneading it nervously in his hands. "What is it, gremlin?" Sniper asks quietly his expression soft with a smile, the insult coated in affection. But within seconds he knows what it is, because the young boy places his cup gently against the floor before sitting himself gently next to Sniper upon the crate the older man sits, their legs touching as Sniper takes the lanky, tape wound hand into his, letting their fingers curl. Scout always loved the feeling of the blood rushing to his ears, deafening his sense of anything that wasn't now, that now being Sniper, the older man pulling Scout by his hips so that he falls closer against him, their lips brushing gently before Scout goes ahead and steals them in a gentle kiss. They'd always been so few, these kisses; the two, who cared deeply for each other—yet were so haughty and unable to submit themselves to the mushiness of the other—who could hardly even admit to there being any sorts of emotions between them extending even a little past friendship, never let it all get too far for a variety of reasons—one being no time, when 'time' was controlled by the hoarse ode to 'us versus them', the other being, well, the other—But Sniper for once just smiles into their kiss, abandoning any pretense of bridling reluctance as Scout's fingers curl along the base of his neck, the long, runner's body hovering over him, obviously enjoying this brief lack of self consciousness himself. It was a relief, after all, the stinging reality of this lethal limbo suddenly diminishing under the simple press of lips against his, Scout the only one in ten years Sniper'd found was blessed with the gift of stifling any sense of expectant, morbid watch he's keeping for whatever reason. This damn Scout, Sniper curses, laughing internally at the way his own team's Scout was slightly shorter, a blonde, and much, much calmer in temperment...and yet his proclaimed enemy, the complete opposite of himself, is the one he holds in his arms, his fingers ruffling through the light brown strands of fine hair he normally keeps hidden away underneath the grey cap. "You musta been missin' me, you can hardly get enough!" Scout beams, sitting on his friend's lap, arms wrapped around his neck. "Like I'd ever miss a cheeky little wanka like you," Sniper snarls, Scout shrugging off the serious tone and grinning. "Yeah, yeah, you say that—I know you don't mean it," he winks, Sniper biting back on the fact the he very much meant it, that he found Scout to sometimes be insufferably nerve wracking, cocky, and immature and yet as he mumbles a gruff "come 'ere" before pulling the boy into a hug and kissing his soft lips again, Sniper realizes for the first time that it didn't stop the Australian from loving him any less.
please DO post the rest! this is lovely.
Huh... I already read this on FF.net, so I didn't go through the entirety it again. But here's some general crit: Firstly, there's an some prose that tend towards purple, especially in the beginning, which might discourage a prospective reader. There're also some grammar mistakes, though I didn't have the foresight to note where. Here're some critiques of some specific parts. >"[...]—yet were so haughty and unable to submit themselves to the mushiness of the other—[...]" I don't think haughty fits very well here, and neither does mushiness. I'd change haughty to proud, and, uhh... mushiness is a bit tougher. Mawkish is one word and fits the style of the writing but the definition is a bit off. Here are some words you can play with: overly, sickeningly, sentimental, emotional/overemotional, romantic, foolishness. You might want to change it a bit to make more sense, too- as is, it's like they're both mushy but both not wanting to be mushy. If you typed it without thinking that out too deeply, you might have to change characterization a smidgeon. It might help to think out character dynamics in depth beforehand. Note that if there are problems with character interactions, I might not have noticed since I pretty much skipped that because I realized that I had read it before. "Sniper liked a good mystery, a challenging riddle, but it was an eerie feeling, knowing that, when it came right bloody down to it, the enigma boiled down to a small, wispy thread that in turn bound itself with his own fate... " A problem with this is that it doesn't seem to make a lot of sense. If it does, I don't get it. Either way, it chops up the flow of the story if a reader stops to puzzle it out. Another thing that might be a problem is that there's a bloody dropped in there. It's very wordy in a way that implies that it's not Sniper's POV, but then there's that which is strange. This might be a problem in other places, too. Extra protip of the day: What kind of fic do you like and/or want to write? Take note of how that was done. That said, I think you have potential. Though your execution wasn't the best, you have a good command of the language, and you give the characters emotion. (And maybe I have a soft spot for ScoutxSniper.) God arbejdslyst! (Good working enthusiasm! pretty much) -m
No idea how to quote, but thanks a lot for the crit! You have no idea how nice it is to finally get some helpful advice. As I was writing it I was really rattling my brain trying to find a way to describe their feelings for the other. It was simply a problem of word choice, you're right. Honestly I have no idea where/what I want to take and do with this, I pretty much just write little one shots and call it a day. I guess that was sort of the angle I was going for, just a compilation of short stories depicting the two and the development of their relationship. I also tend to get lost when I write. That's something I need to work on, too. I've written much more since this piece and would like to think that I've gotten a better feel of the characters and the over all voice and tone since then. I'll post it, and please do tell me your opinion and the differences/improvements between the two pieces stylistically. It would really mean a lot to me.
I'm also just now realising that I may have posted this story in the wrong forum, and I'm sorry; I figured the regular fanfiction section was reserved strictly for non-romantic stories. Either way, I did try my hand at some smut between the two, so I can post that later once I edit it, then hopefully the thread won't be out of place :). Anyway, this is another part to the story (I hesitate to call it a chapter because it follow no real chronology). Let me know what sticks out to you; things I did well, things I didn't do so well. And like I mentioned, I'd love to hear what you think of the second part in comparison to the first. I appreciate it so much! I really do! It's not long until Sniper can tell by the sound of impatient knuckles crashing in spastic annoyance against the metal door that it is Scout who waits impatiently on the other side. Sniper had to wonder to himself just how far along had he gone down the path of life until the sound of Scout's hands against a slab of iron had it's own distinct modifier in his thoughts—but it's not like it could have been any other way when the boy was knocking on it all the damn time. The knob jiggles forcefully, rotating in jerky, circulatory motions, quiet at first but growing in intensity and velocity. The passionate yelp of pain and the loud "Shit!" that follows only confirms Sniper's prediction of Scout's precense, and sure enough, the lock attempts in a violent thrashing to break its restraints, the door to the camper rattling under the command of a determined guise of entry, but to no avail. Maybe if he just ignored the knocking, Scout would give up and go away. And yet, Sniper knew without a doubt that no amount of time would make the dolt at the other end of the racket disappear. But ultimately, he was in power. As it was, Sniper was the one who had the ability to flick the lock so as to grant the Scout entrance. He grins maliciously as this knowledge settles itself into his mind, taking a drag of the cigarette he enjoys silently (and he curses Luc for getting him into such a habit) lost in the high of their victory over BLU that had taken place hardly twenty minutes ago. The van's windows are blocked with the typical blinds that are rarely ever seen drawn, casting the interior of the Australian's living quarters in an unbecoming darkness, one that only furthered the rather scathing joke that Sniper was nothing short of a creepy, grumpy 'old man' (though thirty four was far from deserving the label of being old and decrepit). At least it wasn't a dirty hideaway—he prided himself in his cleanliness, however the musk of smoke and incense wafts about due to the lack of ventilation (and he'll be damned if he opens a window, he had no doubt Scout would climb through the thing in an effort to get inside—). "I know you're in there, ya bastard—!" Scout's muffled, angered voice is drowned out however by his own incessant pounding, growing only more forceful and aggravated with each second, and Sniper simply leans back against the hard wooden chair he sits upon. Did Scout not know it was common decency to let a man have his peace after battle? Like the twitchy little bugger knew anything about social cues... "Open up—! It's fuckin' cold out here—!" Sniper chuckles as he revels in the satisfaction of placing his gloved hand against the dial of the small space heater he has running near the kitchenette, the whirring doing a bit to dull the pounding on the frozen door. "Jaaaaack—!" Perhaps he was being a bit of a jerk, Sniper considers, but he didn't have the time or desire to entertain or babysit his enemy in this particular moment. He simply wanted his own bit of quiet, a time to hear his own thoughts, and Sniper knew Scout wouldn't be going anywhere if he were to actually break down and let him in— "Jesus, kid!" Sniper shouts as the van starts rocking violently, the boy obviously threatening to tip the vehicle over— "I'm comin', I'm comin'! You win, you damn mongrel—!" Sniper swears as he wrenches the door open, the heat rushing out in a swift wall and the piercing wind and snow swirling outside grants itself entry. Sniper makes a point to glare rather nastily down at the pathetic runner who stands huddled in the snow. Scout, the idiot, stands with only his standard blue shirt, coatless with his arms tucked away under his body. Sniper's eyes roll at the shivering boy, whose skin glows a bluish white due to the temperature. "'Bout time, Dingo! Was startin' to think you weren't home!" Scout beams, his mood changing swiftly as he invites himself into the van, tracking snow in from his kleets. Sniper scoffs and throws a dish towel on the slippery puddles he carelessly drips onto the floor, catching a glimpse of thick snowflakes that cling to the boy's eyelashes as he whizzes by. "What took you so long—?!" "That's none of your business, mongrel," Sniper reaches for a cold beer and pops it open; it would take a lot of alcohol to make this hooligan tolerable in this particular moment. "Make it quick, Lawrence, I ain't got time for listenin' t'ya go on about nothin'," Sniper snaps, Scout scoffing and plopping in a chair in the kitchenette. "Yeah right, like you got shit to do—" "I do, and if you got a hard time believin' it, I'll throw you right back out there and let you wait until I'm finished—" "Jeeze, okay! But it's your own fault I'm botherin' ya—maybe next time you shouldn't shoot no damn arrows at people if you don't want'em interruptin' your precious schedule and pesterin' you about it later—!" Sniper grumbles moodily as he takes a sip of the beer, placing it on the counter—so that's what this is all about... "Right; Guess I landed one in ya, earlier, no?" Sniper asks caringly, Scout nodding. "Well maybe next time you should try not standin' around like a braindead ox—" "I wasn't, you're just a freak with that aim—!" "Well of course I am, Scout, I'm a bloody sniper for God's sake—! If I couldn't hit a sluggish little piece of target practice like you I'd be a disgrace to the occupation!" Sniper beams at the rise that flusters Scout, who always takes the bait of Sniper's inadvertent insults so easily— "Um, last time I checked I was the best Scout on BLU or RED, slugger, so you better watch who you call slow," Scout threatens haughtily, Sniper letting out a sarcastic grunt. "The best, dinki di?!" "Yeah, I got a medal from the Administrator and everything!" Scout grins, obviously very proud of himself. "Ooo, you're a big note medal winner now?" Sniper asks with that same mocking voice of fascination, taking another swig of beer. "Hey, don't take that tone with me—!" "I'll take whatever damn tone I bloody well want to mate, it's my house you're in—" "Since when is this dump of a van a house—?!" "Since before you were even in school, kid, I got this van when I was eighteen—you were what, six and still learnin' to use the toot?" "You know you ain't funny, right?" Scout asks with a raised eyebrow. "Over here talkin' about toots, I don't even know what the fuck a toot is—" "Well that's your fault, assumin' I'm tryin' to be a comedian—" "So you mean you got this thing when you were eighteen?! So what, did you always know you was gonna be killin' kangaroos on the go 'n shit—?!" "I've never killed any 'kangaroos', and it was a gift from my father—I used to travel with my friends when I was younger," "Ha—friends..." "Listen, Scout, I don't plan on sittin' here with you all day, so what the Hell is it you want from me—?!" "I already told you, that arrow shit!" "So it's an apology you want?" Sniper eyes him sympathetically, his voice low with regret. "Hell yeah, I do—!" "Oh, Lawrence..." Sniper tisks, taking off his hat and placing it lightly on the table. "I'm sorry I didn't just shoot you in the head and finish it—" Sniper chuckles as Scout furrows his brow and punches his shoulder moodily, Sniper masking his wince with light laughter, holding the quickly bruising arm nonetheless. "That ain't funny—!" "Put a Band aid on it and get the Hell over it—!" "It still hurts—!" "Well who the bloody Hell do I look like, mate?! I'm not your damn doctor, go take it up with your medic, and tell 'im dear old RED Sniper got you—" "The Doc's too busy takin' care of Mikhail to help me out, Snipes! And then our Soldier got hurt pretty bad too! There's a line! He said I'd have to wait!" "Well you're bloody stupid gettin' outta line then, daisy—" But Sniper sighs heavily as Scout shifts to show his arm, the arrow the Australian had shot into him an hour ago still lodged deeply in his bicep. "I mean it," Scout whines, his eyes watering as they bore into the older man's. "You're the only one who can help me out—our Sniper doesn't deal with this arrow shit—it really hurts, Jack," Scout whimpers, Sniper rolling his eyes, leading Scout gently onto his bed before rummaging about the van, collecting various first aid supplies, mumbling irritably under his breath. "Why didn't you tell me you needed it taken out—?!" Sniper snaps as he takes Scout's arm into his hands, rubbing alcohol around the puncture wound. "I tried—!" "No, you were standin' around bitchin' about it and tryin' to tip over the damn van!" Sniper corrects him, resting a relaxing hand gently on Scout's cheek as the bruenette winces, closing his eyes shut from the stinging pain of the disinfectant. "What the Hell is the matter with you?! Carryin' on whole entire buggerin' conversations like you don't have a damn bolt in your shoulder—Try to breath, kiddo, this'll hurt—" "I ain't no kidd—GWARGHARGH!" Sniper jumps as the boy absolutely wails, fidgeting and twisting, elbowing the older man forcefully. "Stop that, you're only deepening the thing—!" but Sniper grunts as his head is pushed downward by the Scout's reactionary twisting. "OOOOOWWWWWW—!" "GAAHH—!" Sniper screams as Scout's arms tighten around him, locking him in a steeling grip as if it somehow eased the pain. "LAWRENCE, STOP—MOVING—!" Scout's fingernails cut deeply into Sniper's arm as he attempts pulling the arrow from his skin again, the groans of pain and his beating heart accelerating as Sniper finally yanks it out, tossing it. "There," he nods, tears rushing rampantly down his friend's reddened face, Sniper lapping up the blood with a cloth. "Sorry, Lawrence," Sniper whispers in his ear, taking some gauzes and wrapping the sniffling boy's arm gently. "Really, kid, you're lucky it was a shot to the arm! If you were anyone else I woulda shot your damn eye out—!" "Over a fuckin' briefcase, though?!" "It's my job, mate, the same way it's yours to risk your life to go after it—and kill those that stop you from taking it!" "Yeah, but—" "Obviously you were out there dodgin' things much worse than sharpened flint on your way to steal it!" "Yeah, but you're my friend—!" "I only shot you in the arm because you're my friend, love—I woulda killed anyone else—notice how I let you take the bloody intel anyway!" Sniper reminds him, rubbing his arm gently. "Then why'd you fuckin' shoot me—?!" "To make sure your dumb arse didn't try comin' after it again—what if you'd tried to capture it and I hadn't been there, but it were our Soldier, or our Demo?! What if our Engineer had a sentry ready—?!" "You act like I don't take on your team on a daily basis—!" "Not one on one, you don't! You may move fast, but it's the support of the others that helps you advance—" "So then this ain't even about the intel, you just didn't want me gettin' caught by no one else 'cause you're afraid they would've tried to hurt me!" "Tried?! Doesn't take much to break your skinny arse in half, love—!" Scout nearly dies from the whooping laugh he has at the blush creeping up Sniper's face. "Hey, yeah! That's it! You just don't want nobody hurtin' me!" "Wanka—" "You always say that when I'm right!" "But you better keep your grimey little fingers off our intel—" "Or else what—?!" "Or else I'll nail a damn bullet through your skull—!" "You couldn't even if you wanted to! I'm—" "I know, I know, faster than a speeding bullet, you bloody—" "You're damn right I am—!" "So you wouldn't have guarded your own intel if you saw me lungin' for it?!" "I wouldn't'a shot ya, though—" "And that's why the Administrator gets so riled up when friendships are made—you know your Soldier and our Demoman were—and I'm sure still are—inseparably good friends..." "Yeah, but we're more than friends—!" "And yet they're constantly squarin' off—it's our jobs," Sniper ignores Scout, handing the boy a cold beer, popping it open with a bottle opener. "Yeah, I guess..." Scout sighs in an oddly quiet voice so unlike his own. He takes a sip from his bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You don't think Tavish cries to Jane when he gets a rocket to the face, or Jane bombs him soaked in tears when he gets to close to one o' them stickies—!" "Whatever...." "...It'll take a bit of time for it to heal properly—I certainly wouldn't suggest fidgetin' about like you do..." "Runnin's all I do, Snipes, you can't just expect me to sit out—" "We've three days until our next mission, and if you're not feeling better by then, I damn well suggest you sit the match out, because I don't need you gettin' slaughtered out there by my comrades," Sniper snaps sternly, Scout furrowing his brows inward. "Hey'—! Can't noneovum touch me 'cept you, with your damn arrow shit..." Scout snaps as Sniper chuckles coldly. "You just be happy I wasn't aimin' to kill ya," Sniper smiles, Scout holding his hand against his arm gingerly. "I dare ya, Snipes—face me one on one, I'd kick your—hey-hey-HEY!" Scout yelps as Sniper curls him into a dominant grip, though careful to avoid his injured arm. "Don't forget I'm formidable in any range, love, I've wrangled crocodiles twice your size," Sniper growls teasingly in his ear, the younger man trying to squirm free. "This don't mean nothin'—" "Oh what, was I s'pposed to give ya a head start?" Sniper chuckles, letting the boy go. "Maybe you can outrun me, but you better hope I don't catch you, because if I do—" "What—?" "You'd regret it, boyo," "You'd still have to catch me first," Scout beams before standing up, placing the empty bottle on the table. "Well, I know you want me to go—I can take a hint—and you got your 'business' you need to take care of, you claim you're so damn busy—probably fappin' or some gay shit," Scout yawns, looking at the older man who leans against the sink expectantly. "You ain't even gonna see me out the door, huh?! I swear you don't got no manners for a 'polite, efficient sniper'," Scout snaps, Sniper shrugging. "You're one to talk about manners, tippin' over a bloke's home when he's not fast enough to the door!" Sniper spits, Scout wrinkling his nose and saying nothing until he rubs the forearm of the sore appendage. "Uh, thanks, for uh—takin' the arrow you shot in me out..." "My pleasure," Sniper tips his glasses at the American, who turns to leave with a final nod goodbye. "Alright then—see ya," "Toodles," "'Kay, I'm leavin'—!" "Well get bloody goin'!" Sniper rolls his eyes, Scout trudging out of the kitchenette and toward the darkened door. 'He yells at me for botherin' him, sayin' he borderline hates me—but then he doesn't want me to get hurt'n says that he loves' me?! I got a fuckin' weird ass' boyfriend...' Scout wonders to himself, gasping however as he feels the unmistakably long arms of the older man snake around his waist and torso. "Caught you, you bloody mutant," he whispers in Scout's ear, whose cheeks redden and whose voice falls soft, though he still tries to keep that same scathing tone all the while. "This don't count, though, I wasn't even really tryin'..." he sighs, but Sniper mumbles before tightening his grip, resting his chin on Scout's shoulder. "It never counts with you..." Sniper growls, and Scout lets his eyelids drop, a soft smile playing across his lips. "You only get so many do overs, love..." "Lemmie guess, I ran out?" Scout laughs, Sniper nodding before kissing his cheek softly. "I'm not goin' to tell you to be more careful out there again..." he threatens, and Scout nods, and Sniper can feel his friend's chest heave under laughter. "It's only you I gotta be careful of..." "All the more reason why you should take my warnin' seriously, love..." Sniper says matter of factly, turning Scout to face him before kissing the corner of his mouth with a gentle press of his lips. But Scout catches him off guard, kissing him outright, and Sniper smiles down at the Scout shaking his head, lifting his good arm to drape around Sniper's shoulder. "Take care these next few days; don't do anythin' strenuous, and don't try pickin' any fights, 'cause you won't win—I'm not afraid to shoot another of the bloody things at ya, and if I have to dart your twitchy arse to the wall I will..." "You're weird, wombat," Scout grins, frozen completely as the man before him brings his hand to draw a tender path along his jaw, Scout's skin tingling under the rough and yet gentle, tantalising influence of Sniper's fingertips. "...Only you would keep a dude safe by shootin' shit in'im," "As long as it gets the point across, I reckon the methods aren't really all that telling..." Sniper whispers in that feral growl that always signified to Scout that the marksman was falling prey to the younger man's allure... Scout both loved and feared (for lack of a better word) his ability to rouse such a carnal rendition of the Australian. It was strange, Scout felt, the way the two could barely utter an "I love you" to each other, the way, Scout often felt, that Sniper often liked to pretend that he had no feelings for him; and yet it had to've been something much, much more than friendship that causes the tips of Sniper's fingers to trail along the edge of his hips... He found the sultry, accented whispers of his Sniper all too, well, sexy. And yet, as much as Scout could feel his body react to the smooth timbre that was a lascivious Sniper, a part of him also shriveled and retreated in the comfort of his internal reassurance that this was his damn show, that no matter what, he, Scout, was always running things—even when he wasn't. He hated the way his loud, imposing demeanor suddenly diminished itself to that of a blushing, hesitant boy whenever Sniper's strokes or embraces became that telltale gentle. It seemed almost as if Sniper knew to approach him softly, and that softness, he thought, only caused Sniper to view him as a kid. Plus he didn't want it to be obvious that he was basically a virgin (quick hand jobs from girls whose names you can't even remember don't count much for sex—). It was bad enough being twelve years younger than the man; it was bad enough, Scout always felt, constantly having to prove that the twelve years between them meant nothing. Appearing childlike in Sniper's eyes, his hero's eyes, was always a glaring worry of his. He never wanted to stand out to Sniper as a naïve, ignorant boy who knew nothing of the world. One could say Scout simply wanted that the rugged hunter saw him with just a small glint of the same rose coloured eyes of admiration Scout saw him with. And yet the only way to mask this one glaring suggestion of weakness was to coat it all heavily in an imperious armor of emotional impenetrability. Scout's eyes widen as he finds himself stuck in a linear pull, the yellowed lenses of his glasses doing nothing to mask the strain of gravitation Sniper's eyes command. His thumb rests against the corner of the younger boy's lips, the ridged print of his finger spreading a smooth sensation across the cheek Sniper had always regarded as so unblemished and glowing, the lithe frame of the runner so easy to slip into his arms... "Don't be shy, love," Sniper chuckles, for Scout's subconscious whimper and turn of the head had prevented him from honing in and capturing the reddening lips in his own. "I ain't shy—I just ain't in no fuckin' baby makin' mood!" Scout snaps, Sniper kissing Scout briefly before putting space between them, complying with the young man's wishes. Scout sighs, scratching behind his bead, casting a stare at the man who now bustles about near the back of the camper, the longing eyes of the brunette going unnoticed against his back. He actually wouldn't mind taking it a little further this time—but it was too late to come to this realisation, he'd already killed any sort of mood Sniper was in... "So do you want me to stay or go?!" Scout asks impatiently, though hoping the taller man lets him stay; he cherished his moments with Sniper, and, though he probably spent more time with the marksman than with his actual team, he still felt that they simply weren't together enough. "Depends on if you want to help me with my business or not," Sniper grins, Scout's eyes widening. "Not that kind of business you dirty bugger—!" Sniper sighs as Scout grins devilishly. "I don't know any other kind o' business, wombat—" "You're a like a bloody tot with his fuckin' 'ead in the gutta," "Woulda been different if you weren't just fondlin' me two seconds ago!" Scout winks. "Well either way, I'm not plannin' on buggerin' ya—" "I hope it ain't no cleanin', I sure as Hell ain't no housewife..." "I was just hopin' to catch some sleep, but of course here you come like always—" "Now ain't the time for sleep! There's so much to do, Snipes!" "Yeah, my mind sure is racing with wonderful activities to engage in while snowed in on a cold as piss battlefield—pardon me for not thinking of a thousand and one things to do around here—!" "You gotta car, we could go into town and—" "Get my arse accused of kidnapping BLU's Scout?!" "It ain't kidnappin' if I'm over eighteen for one, and for two, it ain't kidnappin' if I let you take me," Scout smiles, winking as he attempts to dazzle his friend with a smooth smile. "Not tryin' to be a downer, but honestly, I'm havin' a bit of trouble really believin' that your BLUs'll see it that way," "Who cares what they think though?!" "Scout..." "Fine, we'll stay here then," Scout pouts, turning his head moodily. "I'm plannin' on takin' a nap, so it's about to get very unexcitin' for ya," Sniper's muffled voice explains as he folds his vest neatly and lifts his shirt above his head, revealing a browned chest faintly scarred here and there with the gashes of hunting, the small patch of chesthair having neither grown nor shrunk since the last time Scout'd seen it. "Man, you old people sure are boring..." "I'm not old, Lawrence, I'm just tired after dominatin' your spastic arse on the battlefield—" "You got me once—!" "And you'll never forget it," Sniper beams, replacing his slacks with a comfortable pair of pajama bottoms, cracking his back and heading toward the in the back of the van, Scout biting down on his lower lip as he watches Sniper pull back the made blankets he had sprawled across the length of the down mattress he'd managed to squeeze into the camper. "Alright, I guess I'll go then..." "I'm not kickin' you out, believe it or not; you're more than welcome to nap with me," Sniper grins, Scout blushing, but quickly turning a defensive cocky for good measure. "I ain't no fag, man, I don't sleep with other guys!" Sniper shrugs, opening his mouth to say he'd only gone to the door of his van a thousand times in the middle of the night to find Scout before him, asking if there was room in the bed for one more. Sniper however says nothing of the sort. Instead he turns over, leaving the two in silence, and Scout simply stands still, biting down on his lip as he watches the man slowly doze off to sleep. "Plus I'm surprised you'd even offer, and you're not freakin' out thinkin' that my team would notice me bein' gone long enough to nap with ya..." Scout awaits a response from the man, yielding nothing. He'd really meant that shit was gonna get boring...Scout sighs before peeking through the blinds, the blizzard outside raging just as it was when he'd left the base. Though Sniper, somewhere in a state well below full consciousness, is awake enough to notice that he hadn't heard the sound of a door closing. His breathing is even and inaudible, only further augmenting the sound of the Scout's awkward frozenness inside the quiet van. Sniper would have twisted when he heard the shifting, had sleep not nearly taken him over. But as he feels the bed dip, the weight of a chin on his shoulder and the distinct feeling of thin, taped hands wrap around his torso, he knows, even in his sleep, this nap'll be a good one.
I'm loving this, really.
I'm really glad you are! What is it you like about the story so far? Does the characterisation seem accurate? It was my biggest worry when writing this part. I'll post the next part in a bit, just have to find it.
aww man I wish I could give you some good insight since you asked, but I'm really just here gushing all over it. Just...the interaction, it's tender and not over the top, it seems believable that scout would somehow react that way to affection instead than just being his usual brash self. I love how you wrote sniper too, it's a bit like he's torn between being sweet to the other boy and not indulging him too much since the whole thing they have going can be dangerous to him. I just really, really, really like it.
It really does make me grin like a dopey school girl to know you're enjoying it. The pair is fun to throw a crack at writing, the dynamic between them is too much fun. I try to keep a variety of things in mind when writing Sniper; he's a loner who'd spent fifteen years by himself hunting in the bush. That Scout has become the most precious thing in his life in such a short amount of time is a bit overwhelming for him, especially considering Scout is his enemy. He loves Scout, he really does, but is frustrated because he has no idea how to express it; he doesn't want to draw the attention of the others by being too close to him, nor is he naturally all that affectionate to begin with. Add Scout's difficult personality and insecurity on top of it all, and it leaves a pretty aggravated Sniper that doesn't know where to begin with him; thus the insults, haha. Here's part three for you =D: "C'mon, please—!" "If you ask me again I swear I'll rip your bloody tongue from your throat—!" "C'mon, Jack! I heard our Soldier talkin' to your Demoman this mornin', they're goin' to Vegas together for their week off—!" "Ain't that all just a field of posies—" "C'mon—!" "There's no way in Hell I'm cartin' your arse to Vegas—!" "I don't even wanna go to Vegas, let's just go somewhere—!" "No!" "Please—?!" "I can hardly stand ya when on duty, you can't expect me to tolerate you during unpaid leave—!" "I sure do, and I ain't lettin' up 'til you gimmie a yes—!" "Then you're gonna be waitin' your whole damn life for that one, daisy!" Sniper chuckles, peering over his sunglasses to complete the dashing grin he flashes Scout. "Hope you're more patient than I know you to be, love," Sniper sighs with a graveness etched into his tone, his hand still swiping the rag in clockwise motions along the small counter he'd been cleaning since the Scout's initial arrival. "Why not?!" Scout finally huffs, his fists balled, his eyes wide and unwavering as they shine with inquisitive fury, his bottom lids puffed and glistening with the tears that threaten to spill from their edges. "Oh, here come the crocodile tears—!" "I AIN'T CRYIN'—!" Scout wails, his lip quivering as he brings his forearm to fiercly wipe the liquid away, spreading it instead all across his cheek. "I know y'can get a little pouty, but Good Lord, mate, you're not normally this whiny—" "Hey fuck you, wombat! Maybe I just wanna spend some time with ya—!" "I'm sorry, Lawrence, but I really just don't think it's a good idea," Sniper mutters, his voice quiet and sincere as, for a brief second, he puts all haughty teasing aside. "It's not that I don't want to spend time with you, it's just I know nothin' good would come out of it—and you know I like my alone time—" "Are you kiddin' me?! You act like you're takin' a fuckin' Kindergartner on a field trip! Fuckin' 'nothin' good would come outta it'—What's the worst that could happen—?!" "Our teams—or God forbid the bloody Administrator—find out we're drivin' about—" "Oh come on, everyone on our team knows Tavish and Jane are best friends—!" "'Nd the Administrator's constantly tryin' to get them killed 'cause of it! I don't want her draggin'er attention onto ya, tryin' to do you in 'cause you wanna go on a bloody roadtrip with me! Or else we could have our contracts terminated, we're dishonourably discharged without pay on account of treason—and even then we'd be damn lucky we weren't court marshalled—!" "So you'd rather keep this fuckin' mercenary shit up than spend time with your own—your own—?!" Scout blushes as he stumbles on his own words, his flustered uneasiness only furrowing his brow and aggravating him further. "Oh grow up, it's a Hell of a lot more complicated than you're makin' it sound—" "Don't seem that hard to understand to me, wombat—I feel like if you offered to take a vacation with me I'd say yes—not like you're offerin', though—!" "Nope—!" "Maybe I'll go ask Tavish and Jane if I can spend my leave with them, then—!" "That sounds like a bloody swell idea, it'll get you off my back—!" "You'll be losin' your chance to spend it with me, though—!" "D'aww, you see the tears streamin' out my eyes, love—?" "Don't be an ass, Snipes—!" "I'm still sayin' no, Scout—!" "You jerk—!" "Scout—" "Some friend you are—!" "Scout—!" "After all we been through, though—!" "After all of it—" "Jane and Tavish are goin'—don't see why we can't—!" "Because you're a childish, careless little git who doesn't think things through—!" "What's there to think about—?!" "Where we'd go, how we'd do it without makin' it clear as day we're takin' time off together—!" "We don't have to be obvious about it though, and I swear I won't say nothin' to nobody—I'm not sayin' we gotta go to Vegas—" "Good, because even if I did consider takin' you with me next week, Vegas would not be on the to-do list—you'd probably get lost or somethin' equally inane—" "Hey, I ain't no fuckin' toddler, Snipes—!" "Well, sure is news to me—!" "You mean to say you been kissin' a toddler these last six months?" Scout asks, raising a sly eyebrow and curling his lips into a devilish, smug smile. "Because that's certainly what you're implyin' over there, ya sicko—!" Scout laughs heartily as Sniper pinches the bridge of his nose, bringing his glare and dropping his voice into a serious growl that proceeds to erase the smirk off the younger boy's face. "I'm not a bloody pervert, Scout—now I suggest you listen up nice and good, because I won't be repeatin' myself once I've said it, dinky di," Scout doesn't even breathe he fears missing even a word the Australian prepares to utter. The camper van grows quiet, almost as if the air itself knows it would be quite wise to shut up and listen to what the marksman has to say. "You'd do best to make your own plans for next week, because I'm not takin' you with me—don't give me that pathetic look—" "Pardon the interruption, dingo, but I don't understand how this is any different than Tavish and Jane—they're friends, they're on opposite teams, and yet I don't see them actin' like it's some huge ass forbidden thing for two friends to spend time together—" "We're a bit more than friends, Scooter—" Sniper begrudgingly admits, Scout instantly opening his mouth to counter the argument. "I don't see how that makes a difference for real, though, it's not like anyone knows we even know each other like that to begin with—You said the Administrator knows that Tavish and Jane are always together—they're still alive, right?!" Scout asks reasonably, Sniper grunting and nodding gently. "I s'pose," "As long as it don't interfere with our jobs, I don't think the old hag gives a shit what we do with a fuckin' week's free time," "She certainly wouldn't want any contract breaking bonds formin', I can tell you that much, love..." "Well that's just too bad, ain't it?! Cuz I'm sure we've been datin' for a while now, whether you wanna admit it or not—!" Scout snaps, leaving his Sniper to mumble darkly under his breath. "This is why I never let you through the bloody door—!" "Our freakin' Pyro's goin' bungee jumpin'—what if the guy comes back missin' his arms or somethin'?!—what would piss you off more—your client comin' back and missin' his fuckin' head or two people that were already involved to begin with enjoyin' one of the few moments they have to just be together without havin' to cover it up or try to kill each other?!" Sniper rolls his eyes, allowing Scout to continue nonetheless. "I don't want to risk makin' the bat mad, is all—I'd never forgive myself if somethin' happened t'you because of it—I mean, don't you have your family?! You last saw them for leave after your first six months, no?! Why in the Hell would you want to go with me when you haven't seen your poor mum or your brothers in nearly a year—!" "I ain't got money for that, Snipes..." Scout mumbles, his voice cracking a little bit, the young man pouting silently. "It ain't like I don't wanna see 'em—I love my family, ya know?! But I don't have enough—I don't make as much as you, bein' a newer recruit and all that shit—I was hopin' to save up money through Spring, maybe go back to Boston then..." "Oh, for Christ's Sake, you mean you were plannin' on stayin' here in 2fort for leave?!" Sniper snaps, as if he can barely take the guilt. "I mean—I was hopin' to spend it with you—that way I wouldn't be stuck here and alone, and I'd be with you..." Scout blushes, the edge of pride and self assurance stripped away from his meek whisper. "Otherwise I'd be the only one left in 2fort..." "Oh bloody Hell, Lawrence," Sniper growls, folding his arms and glaring moodily at the bruenette. "...What sorts of places did you have in mind?" "None, I was willin' to go wherever you were gonna go," "I hadn't really thought about it—I had some ideas—was thinkin' 'bout drivin' the van up north to see the mountains—but overall nothin' too excitin', I don't need the adventure," "Neither do I!" "And I certainly don't need to be takin' you anywhere where you'd manage to bugger things up—" "So you are takin' me—?!" "I haven't said that yet, Scout, don't get too cozy with the idea..." But Scout nearly jumps into the man's arms, wrapping his own so they sneak their way around his chest, Scout resting his head on his friend's shoulder. Sniper grimaces at his own inability to resist the mutant, grumbling somewhat as he meets Scouts's glittering, hopefully expectant eyes. "I haven't decided if I want to take you, boyo, so don't act like you've won just yet," "C'mon, Snipes..." Scout grins, Sniper letting a hand trail through the exposed light brown hair. "Gah," he scoffs, and he feels Scout fall closer against him, and, almost as if the two were directly proportionate, feels his resolve crumbling away the tighter their embrace gets. "You have to promise me not to tell anyone—" "Of course—!" "You have to promise to behave yourself—" "Got it—!" "When I tell you to do somethin', it'd be in your best interest to bloody well do it," "Sounds kinda kinky—!" "And if—or when is more like it—you start gettin' annoyin', I reserve the right to put your arse outside—" "We're gonna have fun! Nobody'll be sleepin' outdoors!" "Now, have you been up to see the mountains before?" "Nah, we'd always just stayed in Boston, for real—" "Then it'll be new territory for both of us, so I'm not takin' any detours or lettin' you out of my sight—" "I ain't no baby, Snipes—!" "I mean don't go wanderin' off into the forest and fallin' or gettin' lost—" "You spend all your time in the wild, it ain't no big deal!" "Exactly—don't go off alone, because if you get hurt and I don't know where you are..." "I won't leave your van without permission!" "Promise me?" "Whatever you say, champ!" "Now I think we can have a real nice time together, love," Sniper smiles at the boy he still holds in his arms. "So don't make me regret this," "So you are takin' me?!" Scout asks brightly. "I won't," Scout beams quickly, flashing him a nervous wink as he catches sight of Sniper's slight scowl. "And I won't tell nobody, either! I'll tell 'em I'm goin' to visit Gran or somethin' if someone asks," Scout plops down on a chair near the sink, looking up at Sniper, who leans with his back against the counter. Scout watches as he casts a look out the window, his brow furrowed as he thinks of more 'warnings' for the boy to heed. "Be dressed for the weather—just 'cause it's warmin' up a bit, doesn't mean it can't get nippy out there," "Yeah, yeah, whatevah, Ma—" "You might wanna pack a colourin' book for the drive up, too," "Don't own a single one, Snipes—besides, it ain't like I got crayons!" "And most of all, don't go thinkin' I broke down—I'm only lettin' you tag along 'cause I'd be a terrible—er—friend if I let you spend your leave alone," Sniper scoffs, Scout letting his eyes fall quickly to the hands folded neatly in his lap so as to avoid the scathing, critical narrowness of his friend's eyes. "You're lucky I ain't heartless enough to leave ya behind," "I think it's sweet," Scout whispers meekly, smiling sincerely at the flushed man who waves a hand of dismissal. "My only bloody week of peace..." "You did break down, slugger, for me," he continues, Sniper shaking his head solemnly and turning his back to the boy. "Thanks..." Scout whispers in a voice held back by restraint, careful to convey his sincerity without being too sappy. "It's fine, boyo, now quit with the googley eyes," Sniper hisses from the corner of his mouth, igniting the cigarette his curled lips hold onto, shaking the match to extinguish it. "I promise we'll have a good time!" Scout beams, Sniper's eyes narrowing behind his lenses, his growing smile only underlying the small chuckle that heaves his chest. "Well I suggest you get packin', love, it's already Friday and I'm leavin' here Sunday," Sniper warns, Scout's eyes watering as the smoke itches at them harshly. "So meet me out here Sunday mornin' 'round seven or so; don't go 'round shoutin' from the rooftops we'll be togetha like a—" "No problem! Why in the Hell would I ever wanna admit to people I was hangin' out with your creepy ass?!" Scout beams, Sniper's devilish grin growing wider. "Alright, I guess I'ma go get packin' then," Scout nods, casting a glance at the still smoking Australian. "Good idea—I'll see you out," Sniper stretches, his thin legs carrying him with the same daintiness that made him soundless, lethal... It fuckin' creeped Scout out, that was for sure, considering the guy was still technically his enemy; that a tall, well built man could cloak his own tracks, shade away his mass, and yet it was only one shot it took, one still second, and your blood was spilled according to the pull of just one of his fingers.... Scout hated thinking about it. He felt kinda bad for his team, 'cause they were the ones that had to deal with him for real... "Alright, go on off love—I'll see ya in a couple days," Sniper whispers, cracking the door to the van, the interior instantly glowing orange from the sundown's influence. "I'd plant one on ya, but you smell like smoke," Scout winks before tearing off toward the base, Sniper shaking his head as he watches the young man's limber sprint weave in a red tinted blur toward the metallic base lying off in the distance. "Bloody mutant," Sniper mumbles, twisting the knob his hand encases, turning to seek the warmth of the van that otherwise protected him from the wind of a bitter early Spring. "I really gotta learn how to say no to ya..." he grins, sighing pleasantly at the newfound quiet that echoes throughout the van. "If you knew 'is mozher, you'd see just where 'e gets 'is irresistibly from—" "GAAH!" Sniper yelps, staggering behind him, the clash of lamps and tables bumping against the wall startling the man who stands in the corner. "Calm down, calm down—!" "What in the bloody Hell 're you' doin' here, Luc—?!" "I suppose you would want an explanation for why I'm sitting uninvited in ze corner of your 'umble abode—" "Do tell!" Sniper snarls, the shock of the towering man's form never ceasing to catch his 'visitors' off guard. "Why in the Hell—or rather how—did you come slitherin' in here, eh?!" Sniper attempts a nonchalant lean against the wall, his shaky breath still hinting at a nervous, fast pacing heart. "I am a spy, Jack, granting myself entry—" "More like breakin' in, you bloody—!" "I can assure you I 'ad zhe purest of intentions—intentions I will gladly share wizh you should you pay me a listen—spare a cigarette, mon Ami?" Spy lifting a hand and catching the almost empty carton Sniper tosses the serene man. "I was simply curious as to why BLU's Scout would be in such a joyful rush to our dear marksman's setup'—I figured it wouldn't hurt to follow 'is tail, make sure 'e wasn't planning anyzhing malicious against my comrade," Luc grins, his cheeks round and telling behind the balaclava that conceals his identity as always. "I saw zhe grin, and I know zhat smile quite well, mon Ami—and anytime I've seen it, it never meant any good—" "Whose smile?!" "Lawrence's of course," Sniper's brow turns inward as he lets the flow of the man's name register within the eye of his mind. "How d'you know his name—?!" "I could ask you zhe same question, mon Petit...." "So you know the gremlin too, then?! How—?!" "Is zhat jealousy I 'ear, Jack?!" Luc darts his eyes so they bore into those of the man across from him, his suited shoulders heaving with gentle laughter. "You 'ave nothing to worry about—I'm zhirty years older zhan Lawrence—nearly twenty zhan yourself—I can assure you I'm not after eizher of you..." the Frenchman can't help but smile at the silent relief that plays across his comrade's face. "Not zhat age seems to play a role in your judgment, Jack—" "What is it you're implyin' here, Frenchie—" "Is 'e not too young for you—?!" "Oi, I ain't a kiddie diddler, if that's where you're gettin' at! He's twenty four and old enough to decide who he wants to snog 'round here—plus I'd never do anythin' with him he didn't want—!" "No, no, you misunderstand me, cher—I simply meant zhat per'aps you're just a bit older zhan Lawrence—twelve years, is it?! It is more a question of maturity on zhe brat's end—certainly 'e must drive a level headed man such as yourself crazy—" "He can be a ruddy handful, but I ain't his babysitter, either—" "If you zhink you 'ave a stressful relationship with 'im, try being the boy's stepfazher—" "Stepfather—?!" "Naturally, Jack! I've been wizh 'is mozher fifteen years now—! I'm shocked it comes as such a surprise to you, zhough It would figure 'e wouldn't mention it—'e prefers to pretend I do not exist—Still, I would zhink 'e would 'ave told you, what wizh you being 'is boyfriend'—" "Oi, I wouldn't call the little git my boyfriend, Luc—!" "A rose by any ozher name would smell just as sweet—or somezhing to zhat liking—it matters little what you call yourselves—" "I'm familiar with Shakespeare, Luc, cut the bullshit," Sniper only glaring as the Frenchman laughs that same gentle, amused chuckle. "Pardon if I've touched a nerve, I'd always been one to assume bushmen weren't ones for literature! Zhough you two really aren't much different from zhe ozher—per'aps it was a perfect match indeed..." "I'm nothin' like the wanka!" Sniper pouts, Luc crushing the barely lit filter into an ash tray and giving the man his full attention. "It is beside zhe point—zhe point being zhat I found it all so interesting zhat Lawrence would want to visit you—what business did he have wizh our Sniper?! I snuck in be'ind zhe boy as you let 'im in, and I sat in zhe corner, intrigued by zhe cross factioned friendship unfolding before my very eyes! 'Course when I saw zhe way your knees nearly collapsed for him, I knew it was much more zhan friendship we were dealing with..." Luc ignores the dissaproving grunt echoing from Sniper. "But it was a shocking zhing to see nonezheless—Lawrence 'ad never mentioned or shown signs of a relationship or even knowing you! And whenever 'is mozher or myself would ask about any special friends, 'e would tell me to 'fuck off' and turn red! I figured it was because 'e was a virgin—" "He bloody well could be, I haven't buggered him!" "'Ow long 'ave you two been—pardon if 'togezher' irks you so..." "What, 't's been about six months?! Not too long—gremlin must've had his first mission a year'n a half ago—was when I first saw his arse scurryin' 'cross the field—though we didn't exactly meet 'til a couple months after..." "You're a strong willed man, Jack," Luc grins, darting his eyes so they flash slyly at Sniper before back to his cigarette. "What d'you mean?!" "Certainly you want to touch 'im, yet you've managed to refrain from doing so—" "Hey, I actually care about him, he was never just a bugger buddy—it was him came onto me—tried my best to convince him I wasn't worth it, that I was no good for 'im," Sniper grumbles, shaking his head and giving his hand a slight twitch of disbelief. "Y'save the kid once and then he falls in love with ya—I tried for the longest to say no, but then you're the one that can't help but..." Sniper clears his throat, breaking eye contact and letting his fingers strum quietly along his knees. "You love 'im?" Luc grins at Sniper's hesitant expression, his muscles taught behind the barely noticeable nod he gives the man seconds later. "More than I could ever tell 'im—which is probably why I don't...I'd do anythin' for Lawrence, I really would..." Sniper's low growl, Luc can't help but observe, is stroked with a tender affection most unexpected from the rugged hunter. "...not that the bloody hooligan needs to know..." "I find it so strange—you 'ave a problem with calling 'im your boyfriend, yet you admit outright zhat you love 'im?" "I'm just not a gushy type—I love'im, sure, but I ain't serenadin'm or writin' the bugger love letters..." "No offense, Jack, but if you 'esitate only because you do not want to come to terms wizh your sexuality—zhere is no point in pretending—" "Oi, I came to terms with myself a long time ago—'s him with the problem—always sayin' he's not a fag—'s part'o why I don't get too schnoozy with'im, I don't wanna make him uncomfortable..." "It would figure zhe brat vould feel zhat way," "Hey, I cut'im some slack, 's not easy admittin' to yourself you like blokes—I don't wanna rush'im, 'specially not out here when we got other shit to worry about," "I see," "Imagine if you were his age, at war'n away from home—everyday could be your last, then your enemy, just one'o the nine out there to kill ya, becomes your best friend'n whatever else—then you gotta worry 'bout hushin' it all up so that your teams aren't accusin' ya of defectin'n choppin' your head off right there..." "I still zhink zhe boy is not ready for any of zhis—'e 'as a lot of growing up to do—" "Hey, where else is better for'im to grow up than here?!" "You're quite avid about sticking up for Lawrence, aren't you?" "I'm not just gonna let you sit here'n badmouth my Scout," Sniper chuckles, Luc rolling his eyes before smiling in a mock sweet adoration. "I assume you're even more protective when it comes to someone making an attempt on 'is life?" Sniper says nothing, but the uncomfortable shift and mumbling grunt is answer enough for the Frenchman. "Touching, it really is—considering 'e is my stepson, I do my part to keep 'im safe too, but my mission still takes priority—you would do well to remember zhis, Jack—" "'Course I do, that's Tavish and Jane that need the bloody lecture! I shoot the little bastard all the time when he gets too close, but they're nothin' lethal—Hell, you saw the way I tried to tell the weasel no about spendin' leave with me, that I want my time alone," "I also saw zhe way you went back completely on your stance as soon as 'e batted 'is eyelashes—" "I'm not just goin' to leave 'im all by his lonesome in bloody 2fort! That's just cruel!" "Zhe boy was fibbing just a tad, if I may say so," Luc beams, Sniper's brow furrowing from confusion. "'E 'as zhe money to catch a train to Boston—'e simply doesn't want to because I too plan on visiting zhe lovely city next week," "His mother, no?" "Correct—I can't say I don't understand, but it 'urt 'is mozher when 'e said 'e wouldn't be coming 'ome for leave," "I'd be squicked too if a sleazy Frenchman on the other team were datin' my mum—no offense," "None taken, 'tis a much milder insult zhan Lawrence will typically 'ave it—eizher way, I am shocked 'e 'as not told you about myself and 'is mozher—I'll most certainly be talking to 'im about you two..." "Don't rile 'im up, though!" "I just want to ask 'im why 'e never told me..." "Aha..." "You two 'ide it very well—" "Yeah, the other option bein' discovered by the Administrator!" "I can agree inciting 'er attention in such a situation would be most unwise—but would you two really be more open wizh affection if you didn't 'ave 'er to worry about?" "Dunno, Luc—'s kinda hard bein' romantic with the bloody little mutant when he's callin me old'..." "Again, it is what leads me to question 'is maturity..." "Oi, that's just who he is..." "Yes, but 'is brothers all have long since taken my dating zheir mozher just fine—fifteen years and 'e still' be'aves like zhe ten year old monster 'e was'..." "He's the baby of the family, he's probably just jealous of ya—imagine havin' six older brothers and then when it's finally your turn for the spotlight, your mum's all starry eyed over someone else!" "Zhen it is 'is own fault 'e is so 'urt—'is mozher loves all 'er sons very much!" "He's a sensitive bugger, even if he doesn't want you to think so..." "VWell it is glaringly obvious! Someone would do well to inform 'im," "The little bastard grows on you, he does," Sniper sighs, Luc standing up and flashing his comrade a dashing smile. "Indeed; it was a nice chat, marksman," he nods in a tone of finality, checking the watch around his wrist Sniper never actually knew told time. "I will most certainly pay Lawrence a visit and tell 'im to mind 'is manners zhis week," "Don't give him too hard of a time..." "Non, of course not—I'll not spoil all your fun," the Frenchman casts the Australian a departing nod, and in the brilliant flash of a dazzling smile he I nowhere to be seen. Yet the door to the van opens, though the Spy can be neither seen nor heard.
wow. yeah this just keeps getting better! Please do go on and post the rest!
>[...]a part of him also shriveled and retreated in the comfort of his internal reassurance that this was his damn show, that no matter what, he, Scout, was always running things—even when he wasn't. Shriveled and retreated- don't need quite that much description there. Just retreated would be fine. Shriveled is a different action than retreated, so the reader might stumble a bit on it because it doesn't have any association to something that happens mentally. >'He yells at me for botherin' him, sayin' he borderline hates me—but then he doesn't want me to get hurt'n says that he loves' me?! I got a fuckin' weird ass' boyfriend...' Scout wonders to himself, gasping however as he feels the unmistakably long arms of the older man snake around his waist and torso. Here he thinks boyfriend, but later he says he's not a fag. It might make sense, but I think Scout's reasoning about it has to be explained to the reader. - >"Hope you're more patient than I know you to be, love," and later "We're a bit more than friends, Scooter—" Sniper begrudgingly admits, Scout instantly opening his mouth to counter the argument. Again, maybe it makes sense, but it's definitely strange. >Scout crying The younger and more effeminate looking guy being easily brought to tears is rather cliche in a bad way IMO. If you write what he's feeling and have him act tougher, you can still have a good emotional impact and you can illustrate the nature of their relation and feelings for eachother without resorting to tears. Tears can be very powerful but they should be used sparingly, like when someone's having a complete breakdown. >"[...]Cuz I'm sure we've been datin' for a while now, whether you wanna admit it or not—!" Dating, like boyfriend, seem like something Scout wouldn't ever say. "together" might work better there, or "seeing eachother". You used involved a bit further down, which is a good example of a better wording. >"But Scout nearly jumps into the man's arms, wrapping his own so they sneak their way around his chest, Scout resting his head on his friend's shoulder. Sniper grimaces at his own inability to resist the mutant, grumbling somewhat as he meets Scouts's glittering, hopefully expectant eyes. " >wrapping his own so they sneak their way around his chest >mutant wat >glittering I don't like this > friend's I'd just say "Sniper's". Friend might break up a pattern of saying Sniper all the time, but I don't think saying Sniper all the time is noticable, and this draws attention to word friend, IMO. >using boy for Scout I somewhat disapprove, he's more of a young man >"I'm only lettin' you tag along 'cause I'd be a terrible—er—friend if I let you spend your leave alone," I like this. >"I think it's sweet," Scout whispers meekly I don't like this the same way I don't like him crying or saying "dating" or "boyfriend". Seems OOC. You see, each reader has an expectation of what Scout is like- a shared headcannon, a basic template for prettydarncannon!Scout. (Of course, it won't be the exact same for everyone, but that's besides the point.) You might be able to get away with it, but you have to explain what he's thinking and feeling, *why* he does the things he does. >Sniper stretches, his thin legs carrying him with the same daintiness that made him soundless, lethal... >thin >daintiness He's not a ballerina dancer! I would disapprove if this were for Scout, too. If you want to keep the sentence, you could change it to something like "carrying himself with the same predatory lightness that blah blah blah." Also, this sentence helped me notice something- you sometimes try to cram too many actions into one sentence. If they're not doing the actions in question at the same time you'll have to rephrase it. >limber sprint Doesn't make sense >irresistibly irresistability >his cheeks round and telling Sounds goofy >knees nearly collapsed for him a bit goofy-sounding Reread your stuff before you post! And not right after you finish writing, because you could easily miss things.
Okay, so all of those things M pointed out...I think it's safe to say that part warrants a rewrite, or a revision at the very least. I'll post the edited version in the next few days!
I think it was perfectly fine o-o
Nah, he/she is right. It's not like they're saying the piece was utter crap (I hope...), just that there are some jarring things that could stand some fixing. As for Scout crying, I agree 100% about the cliche. I didn't mean for it to be him actually crying, rather just a whiny, childish sniff, like he's frustrated, not getting his way. Though if this wasn't clear, then I phrased it wrong. I'm glad you like it despite the imperfections, though!
Also, I noticed Scout was winking an awful lot, and people keep flashing roguish smiles where it doesn't really fit. Your dialogue could stand some revision as well. There are a lot of things that seem off, but you're accepting criticism and I think you'll be an excellent writer once you work on your weak points. That being said, I anxiously await the next installment. I really do love me some Sniper/Scout.
Well, just lemmie know specifically what sticks out so I can go back and attempt to fix it! I have a lot of the next few parts written, but I think I'm going to hold off on posting them for now, it's apparent there's a little bit of work that needs to be done to the first few parts first...
I'm on the 'I think it was just fine and I love it' bandwagon, but if the author wants to rewrite, who am I to say no, eh? Either way, eagerly awaiting updates. I like this story. Characterization seems really good.
yeah, I loved it too. I don't know, the characterization and the mood were so lovely for me. Nothing really stood out as REALLY needing fixing.. but I guess everything can be improved! As long as you don't leave me waiting for years for the next part, hah.
I promise I won't :) Email me if you'd like to read them now and not wait for editing, I guess, I have them on the comp somewhere.
I love your writing but ever author has a few week points. One thing I noticed was how much you seem to /love/ the word beaming or beamed. 'Sniper beamed' 'Scout beamed'.. One other thing is how everyone devilishly/maliciously grins. I love your word choice over all but I think you may have used the word smiling and grinning a bit too much, if you are going to edit this here 3rd part keep in mind to change a grin to smirk or a smile to 'his lips curled' or something of the like. But anyways, I /loved/ this part and overall this whole story, I can't wait for the next part! :)
>>21 You know, I can't even imagine Scout or Sniper to be the type who would "beam". I tend to think of beaming as a really warm, broad way to smile. I think it would probably take at lot to make the mercs do that. Smile, sure, but not actually beam. And anyway, the phrase doesn't really seem to fit the tone of the universe. But I do enjoy the fic regardless.
Hey, I'm still alive. Thanks for your comments, I'm going through the story now and fixing some things. I'm thinking I'm going to post the other chapters in the workshop forum and then post edited versions in here. Is that okay? Or would you all like me to post them here directly and you give me feedback here?