GHOSTS Based upon Ghosts by Laura Marling ______________________________________ "Lovah, please. Don' fall to yer knees." He crouches, holding the mans arms. "It's not like I believe in ever lastin' love." He whispers and it sends the man in his arms into torrents of tears. Sniper does his best to comfort the man, who really does know better. "I'm so lost..." He admits, his accent thick. Sniper nods and holds the Engineer tighter. It's all the Texan can do to quiet his sobs to heart broken whimpers against the Sniper's shoulder. "We were jus' two lovers cryin' on each other's shoulder." Sniper whispered, smoothing the back of Engie's shirt. It's Engie's turn to nod in understanding, wiping his face of tears, sniffing like a child. Sniper sits back with a soft smile and runs his gloved hand over Engie's closely shaven head. Engie clears his throat and Sniper brings the man's head to his chest. He had never felt like a ghost before, but with a broken hearted Trucky in his arms he couldn't help but feel like all the men who had broken his own. "It turned out I was following him, and he was followin' me." Engie picked up his guitar. He sat with it balanced on his knee, tuning it in the dim light of his workshop. "It's not..." He whispered, strumming. "It's not like I believe..." He said with a sudden chuckle, the humiliation making him sick. He held his guitar unsteadily, his gloved mechanical hand wiping his mouth. "Everlasting love." He hated saying it now, his hand slipping over his nose and blinding his eyes. Sniper's fucking was tinged with guilt. Spy noticed, but didn't mention it, not in English any ways. He could say whatever he felt like to the French deaf Australian. He often told him that his pants made his ass look like lumpy mashed potatoes. He had to stop when Sniper kept asking why he was laughing so hard. He was buried to the hilt in the Australian, arched over his back, telling him about his day, and how he found a box of kittens behind the base, the Sniper responding with "That's so fuckin' derty, so fuckin' hot-" "Avez-vous terminé votre relation avec l'aujourd'hui texan? Vous semblez le revers de quelque chose, mon amour. " "Awe, yeah, feels so fuckin' good-" Spy suppressed a chuckle, grabbing a handful of Sniper's short hair instead. He yanked it back until Sniper arched back obediently, though he refused to look at Spy through the yellow glasses. Spy let him fall forward, smoothing his hair and steadily slapping their skin together, his gloved hands running over the curves of Sniper's sharp, gangly body. ____ They had always been cordial, polite to each other. Their morning started rocky with a silent cup of coffee and a grunted 'morning', but they had eased back into routine, for the sake of no one asking questions and not getting cornered by Soldier. Putting up a face was better then being screamed at for a LACK OF GODDAMN TEAM SPIRIT, anyways. And it wasn't like the men worked closely. Engineer built his pain away and Sniper hit a record amount of heads and groins. They had their dinner at the ceasefire, and Sniper went to the BLU Spy, and Engie went to his guitar. This lasted, it really did. Sniper kept forgetting he felt guilty and Heavy broke Engie's guitar. Guitars could only seat so much Russian at one time. Engie was forced to start spending time with his team again, and kept forgetting the way Sniper had made him feel. The funny thing is, is that they moved on. There wan't a big romantic "Just kidding, I am in love with you, Truckie." Or a "Sniper, I'm still in love with you." And they never got back together except for a few nights in San Jose, but after that much tequila and tiny donkeys they agreed they had blacked out the entire time and don't remember inviting the miniature Elvis impersonators. THE END