ScoutMa/You fill for the old TF2 Kinkmeme, Contains graphic descriptions of lesbian sex, also has plot, yaddayaddayadda. Oh and new content so you're not TOO bored. Your parents are worried about you moving into the new place. On the one hand, your dad seemed resigned if not proud. Women in college was still a bit novel but not that unusual a concept so he kinda glossed it here and there. Count on Dad to make a giant fuss about proper dinner table dress but be okay with a woman attending college. Mom on the other hand. Well, you could certainly expect your mother to visit your nearly bare room on a daily basis. Today she performed a complete circuit of the rapidly emptying space, gazing around at the cardboard boxes and taking careful note of the stuffed rabbit leg protruding from one that was packed to bursting. You ignore the little clicks of her tongue, frowning deeply to match the ridges lining her own brow. "I'm beggin' you mom, please. I need to do this. The workforce is hiring women now. Lots of them, in more and more jobs. I'll be a credit to my family and help you and dad out, right?" Hah. Family. You'd never had any sexual attraction that you knew of, but in the early days, when you'd first got the accptance letter in the post, mom had listened to that argument. "I don't understand why you want to move out. Now, if you had a nice husband, I could certainly see you ready to leave, but you have so much more to learn from me, never mind some school teacher." "Mom, I'm not leaving you. I'm just moving one state away to get an education. All the women are doing it these days so they can get better jobs. You went to work!" Your pride can't resist correcting her. "Besides. It's a professor at a college, not a teacher." "Same thing." You quail at your mother's voice a bit. Sometimes it's better not to argue. "Besides!" she continues. "I did that to aid your father, not to leave my family!" Now, mother affixes you with a gut-wrenching look; a silent plea not to abandon her. You have made your choice however, and bunny gets stuffed brutally back into the cardboard prison. Her eyes follow the protrusion of the lump in the box, as though to remind you that that display of childhood is still there and still a chip in the pile to be exploited. "I got a good paying job at the filling station while your Father was in the service." She tries a different tactic this time and you glare at her. "It's just improper for a lady to live on her own without suppor-" "I got a scholarship, Mom." You cut across her, your voice straining to remain calm and collected. "I can use the money I was going to pay my tuition and now I've got a place for myself. It will save dad lots of money on petrol now that he doesn't have to drive me to the college." Fortunately this time, your mother leaves before the argument escalates into a full blown fight. You take it as a point. Yes, you can accept that it's still pretty rare for girls to go to college, even more so for them to get scholarships. You know she's concerned, but couldn't she see how much this meant to you? Dad drives you over to the place you rented. This is a relief, and you help him remove the boxes from the boot. "Looks like the fence could use some oil." Dad remarks to you. "Must have been a real standup neighbourhood in the twenties." You can kind of see what he means. The gate in question is white picket and peeling and the house is fairly sturdy red brick. The American Dream withered, as it were. On the one side, a similarly rundown house stands, a bunch of beer cans littering the yard and crude woodworked lettering showing the house is fit for greek life. The strains of two glorious channels of broadcast television thump through the cheap walls, indicating the brothers evidently thought TV was more important than the value of the property they occupied. Your dad's face pinches and his lips purse, even though he knows that you are far too old to be hanging out with the sort of young frat-boy teenagers who bear little regard for their home. "Don't worry dad. I'll take care of it." you appease him and flash a smile, however further soothing is delayed by the house on the opposite side to yours. The yard is clean but it's not specifically this that captures your interest. The door has opened, and two boys, one your age and the other younger exit, followed by a silhouette in the door frame. "Bye Ma!" the younger one stops tossing a baseball long enough to give his mother a wave. The older one cuffs him on the shoulder and a little spat starts between the two, dog tags jingling and accusations of 'Mama's boy' and 'chucklenuts' flying fast and furious. As you watch, she walks out of the house into full light and suddenly nothing else matters at all. You think of your own mother with her rough dishwater hands, sensible blouses, long skirts and hairstyles fit for working the filling station cash register. She's still a little heavy-set from baby weight and full of ideas about sensible women. This woman by comparison is as sleek and slim as the ladies in the women's magazines your own mother is always trying to get you to read. She's wearing black heels with her blue print skirt. You even imagine you can smell floral perfume over where you're standing, even though it's halfway across two lots and there is no wind. She is fascinating to you, this creature placed in suburbia where she clearly doesn't belong. "They must be dirt poor." your dad remarks, looking at the ramshackle house and shaking his head. It's not malicious, it's probably true. You can tell what he's thinking as well. He's wondering if those boys' father died beside him in the war. It's a sobering thought and you busy yourself by helping your dad unpack and set up. "Thanks for helping out Dad." "Your mother and I. We are going to miss you terribly." You smile. "Mom told you to say that, didn't she?" The curt nod your father gives you is as good as a 'yes' but you don't mind too much and hug him farewell. As it turns out, you don't need to wait long to see her again. The knock at the door comes around five and you pick yourself up from your book and thoughts of dinner to answer the door. She's on the other side, holding a covered dish and smiling with the same bright smile she'd shown to her sons retreating back. "Oh hello, Mrs..." "It's Miss." she corrects you. You notice you were correct about the perfume and feel a little silly. "Would you like to come in?" You find your voice. Hers isn't pretty actually. It sounds perhaps like she might be from the Bronx. It hardly matters to you though. She eyes the boxes you haven't put away yet but steps inside anyway with a polite smile. "Thank you. I was going to send my sons over to help you, but my youngest needed a ride back to work." she frowns and brandishes the casserole dish in your face. "He'd kill me if I told you it was his idea, but he saw you drive up and told me to bring them over instead of sending them with him." Your heart melts a little and you forget in a hypocritical fog a little of how much this kind of behaviour bothered you with your own parents. "Thank you." Your vocabulary has apparently died along with your common sense. You get a whiff of the food in the package. It smells great and your stomach gives a pitiful rumble. "It's tuna noodle casserole." she says, spreading her hands in apology, as if a college student would not appreciate free food. "I haven't had dinner yet." you tell her, still mentally chastising yourself for the Spartan conversation, stating the obvious. There are so many things you want to ask her but can't because every moral fibre of your being screams that it's inappropriate. Why someone like her lives in this little hole, next to frat boys. Why she's pretty. What she puts in her tuna casserole. What her sons do. You're not sure why you want to know this information. "Would you like some water?" It's all you have at the moment, but you feel like you should be offering her wine. She accepts and you find out many things about her through the night. Her age is a respectable 32. She has far more than two children. Eight to be precise. Her son is a 'Scout', whatever that means. You spend the night in conversation. She seems to want to talk and you say goodbye later. It's only a half a day later when you meet him. She's hanging up her washing in the yard and you're diligently perusing your textbook when your gaze drifts up. The man in the pinstripe suit and the balaclava brushes aside the screen door with a practiced sweep of his gloved hand. The gesture is elegant. Somehow he manages to make it so. If you'd been a different sort of person, you might have thought him sexy. The open window provides no cover and your eyes meet, The secretive gentleman smiles at you, but you stare past him and experience some deja-vu as you see 'Scout's Mum' as you've dubbed her. It occurs to you in the periphery part of your brain that you never learned her name. Nonetheless, there she is, a pretty silhouette in the doorway of the house next door. The masked man smiles at you. No words are exchanged here but his simple glance says it all. You wish you were her. He wanders up the road, unaware of your true thoughts. Stupid man. So full of himself. He doesn't realize you wish you were him instead.
Part 2 As you soon discover, college is a harsh mistress. You are learning to budget your time but your professors are clearly against you, working their hardest to keep you neck deep in work. Most of the other students are men, so the only female contact you get is your own mother and Scout`s mother. You`ve come to appreciate even your own parents when they drop by to visit. Tonight you are surprised by Scout calling out to you, just as you put your key in the lock. "Yo!" "Hello!" You wave back. You've met a few of the eight kids by now but Scout is your favourite. He always talks the toughest, but if he's visiting home, he invariably invites you over and pretends that he doesn't give a shit about you, his ma and other 'fag' stuff. You get a kick out of watching the military kid struggle to control his language in front of his mother and you. "Yeah, mom's having meatloaf tonight. She totally told me to ask ya if ya wanna come over. Scotty's home too an' sh-stuff." A sense of relief overtakes you. Today had been hectic. Your revisions weren't going so well so it was very nice to realize you had something to come home for and respond sincerely. "I'd really like that a lot. Thanks." "You ah...doin' okay?" he asks. "Ma said she ain't seen ya for awhile." "It's midterms." You explain apologetically. You've taken to repaying Scout's Mum for all the times she's fed you by helping out with the chores. Sometimes the brothers in the house on the other side of you have parties and make a mess of both your yards. "I did tell her that I'll rake the leaves for her once they're over." "Shit, I'll do it myself t'night." Scout tells you. "Take a break. Plus, Ma don't even pay you." "She pays me in food. I appreciate that more." Actually, you consider your pay the opportunity to share air with the lady for a few hours, but you can't tell her son that. "Aw shit. I'll leave it for you if you want then. Totally get it. Anyway, see you at half past six okay?" You nod your head and thank him again before heading inside. You change your skirt to the sensible dress one your own mother bought you. Sure, miniskirts were popular this year but you were trying to build your reputation in college and your classmates were hard enough on you without you dressing like a tramp. You wouldn't be caught dead wearing a miniskirt in front of her either. It occurs to you that you consider what Scout thinks, but you also think to yourself that it's not for Scout that you're wearing it. Scout greets you at the door when you arrive at the appointed time. He's got this grim look on his face that you've never seen him with before. Normally he kind of smirks sarcastically but you don't have to wait long to find out what the problem is. "Ma's got another dinner guest besides you." You haven't seen Mr. Pinstripes since that first day, but there he is in Scout's kitchen, laughing at something that Scout's mum has probably said. The atmosphere in the kitchen when you and Scout walk in could be compared to stepping into a bucket of ice water. Scout's mum is oblivious of course but Scout is looking at this guy like he's covered in gangrene. He's not even trying to hide his disgust. You help out by adding your own death glare, though this guy still seems to imagine you've fallen for him. "Bonjour. Je m'appelle Spy." he rises from his seat smoothly and shakes your hand. Kisses it even and flashes that same debonair smile from the day you locked eyes with him across the yard. You're still not impressed. Scout scowls and you catch his eye without bothering to register suspicion about the second funny title. It has occurred to you that whatever this boy is doing for a living is possibly not legal, especially considering the amount of money he makes. You haven't accused him or anything though, since he's so dedicated to helping out his mother and that's important to you. So there you all are, sitting down for a late dinner. Scout's brother Scotty turns up about a half hour after you arrive and doesn't seem to care all that much about Spy's presence. "'Lo." Scotty greets you casually and you give him a little nod. "How's the college treating ya?" "Pretty good, thanks." you tell him. "Apart from the midterms y'know. How's plumbing?" He smiles. "Also, pretty good." he gives you a wink you're unsure of the meaning of. Scout catches his eye and you can't help but feel that you've been left out of something. Scotty talks to his mother for awhile but you can tell from the covert looks you're getting that you and Scout are united today against your common French villain tonight. "How are your studies?" Scout's mum starts up the conversation, placing a thick slice of meatloaf, a scoop of mash and some carrots on your plate. "Have you decided on a major?" "No." you reply, truthfully. "Though I was thinking I'll study to be a nurse." Scout breaks up into what can only be described as the giggles and you look at him indignantly. He holds up his hands. "Ahhh, not that. I think it's great you wanna be a Doc. Nurse. Lady Doc or whatever. It's just that our Medic on th' base is a bit of a pill and ya gave me a great joke." Spy makes a show of putting down his knife and fork, polite-like. You catch Scout's gaze. He obviously makes a glance towards Spy and his eyes roll. You think it's a little strange the way he and Spy behave. You totally understand that Scout probably is upset that this man might be replacing his dad, but that's not all it is. He really hates him, like they're on opposing sides of a battlefield. You don't ask of course, even if you want to. Spy pretends not to notice your exchange with Scout but he gets a sour look on his face that he's unable to hide. Score. For your own part you smirk like Snidely Whiplash. Scout has a mad grin that you match. "Would you like a brandy?" Scotty breaks the silence and looks over at Spy. "Mais, oui." Spy accepts and follows Scout's older brother into the parlour. You hear a clink of glasses and the sound of the screen door opening and shutting as they head outside to speak privately. "Can I help with your washing up?" you ask. "Yeah Ma. Can I help?" Scout immediately pipes up as well. "Go enjoy yourselves!" she insists, shooing you both out of the kitchen with a wet dishrag. As soon as you're out of the kitchen, Scout levels a glare at you. "Hey um...you wanna brandy too?" "Okay." you say, watching his face. You can tell he wants to talk. He clumsily pours two glasses of the amber liquid but both of you just hold them, sitting on the couch. In the corner of your vision you can see Spy and Scotty out on the patio through the window. "So uh...um." Scout begins. You watch him twist his glass in his fingers. He's not holding the snifter properly "I totally know you're like...a...girlfag and stuff. And that you like my Ma." You process this information, not sure how to react. You thought you'd done a pretty good job of keeping your infatuation a secret. Besides, it hurts that maybe now Scout will dislike you. He's calling you a 'fag' after all. Your stomach ties itself into knots. You like Scout as much as you like your best mate. "Well..." you trail off and try to act tough. "Yeah. So what?" Scout gives you a serious look. More serious than he even was with Spy in the kitchen earlier. "So this: Look lady. I love my Ma and I hate that fuc...frickin' Spy. An' you're sorta cool and smart an' I'd be cool with Ma bein' a lady fag if she's happy and not hurt and with someone decent." "So you think I'm decent!" You meant to tease him but it comes out as an exclamation instead. It's just such a relief to know how highly Scout thinks of you. In the next few seconds, you process what he's said. Somehow you've just gotten the blessing of the one person whose opinion has mattered to you in this thus-far one-sided romance. "Thank you." you tell Scout at last. You don't think you've ever sounded that sincere in your entire life. "Sure." Scout looks relieved himself and finally takes a drink of his brandy. You mirror his actions. "So uh...y'know. Scotty's driving me to the train station tonight." He doesn't follow up on the thought but you are thinking about it all night long. Scotty comes in with Spy at eight and for some reason, Spy and Scout both are driven to the same train for the same departure time. You are left alone with a wink from Scout and the dawning realization that you are in love with another woman and in the same house with her, with her son's blessing. She walks into the sitting room a short time after the three men leave with a soft frown crinkling her brow. "Scout will be okay." you tell her, but that doesn't seem to be what's troubling her. "It's Spy." she huffs out a sigh. "What's the matter?" "He was supposed to spend the night." Her gaze drops from yours. She's bashful, but you couldn't think her promiscuous. "He had to get back to work." You respond, doing your best not to vilify a man you've met once and decided you did not like. "He's always like that you know." "Really?" you ask, trying not to sound so eager to hear her vilify this man. "I found him charming." she says. She shifts a little closer to you and alarm bells go off in your brain. You can smell alcohol on her breath. Your glass of brandy that you shared with Scout was hardly enough to hurt you, but she's obviously been drinking wine or something in the kitchen while she was doing the dishes. However, she keeps talking. "He doesn't like Scout and I worry..." You open your mouth. This is not the way you want your first romance to go, with the other person upset and drunk. She's not done and you can't get a word in edgewise. "I don't know what Scout does..." she admits at last and you think of your earlier worries about the boy. "I just...I don't know what to do..." She slumps forward into your arms. You can tell now that she's drank quite a lot. You aren't exactly sure what you should do, but you don't want to leave her alone and sit there on the couch, holding her in your arms and listening to her breathe deep.
She's out for a few hours. You've never seen her drink before, but you stay holding her just to be certain. Her head is pillowed on your breast and you resist the urge to take advantage of this opportunity to look closer at her. She gives a soft groan when she sits up, her blue-tinted eyelashes fluttering. "Spy?" Of course. "No." you correct her. "Spy left a few hours ago and you fell asleep." She rubs her head tiredly and looks up at you, grateful for being your being polite about the reason for her 'falling asleep'. "Are you feeling alright?" you ask her. "No." she says. "I was not so...earlier, I mean. Things haven't been 'alright' for a long time." "Scout never looks hurt from his job." you say. It's kind of strange that he talks about a base and medics and soldiers and spies but never seems to be hurt. "His dad was fighting in the war and he didn't make it back, and besides I was hoping that Spy would be...good for my children, but I can't help but feel like he's got other people besides me. I couldn't go through that." "I'll keep helping out." you promise. She's still nestled against you and before you can stop yourself, you press a kiss to her forehead. She looks up at you with a shocked expression and you immediately back pedal. "I'm sorry, that was out of line." "No..." she doesn't move away, instead settling more comfortably against you. "I've forgotten what it feels like to have a loving kiss." Such a simple gesture and it was the most loving exchange she'd had since her husband? You hardly dare to hope and when she tilts her face back up towards you, you place a kiss on her mouth. "This is..." she starts to say and you feel the nervousness return, but instead of pulling away from you, she adjusts herself in your arms and kisses you again. You're pleased to discover that no traces of the alcohol she had remain on her breath. She wants to do this, with you. You've never done anything with a man, let alone a woman, so you let her take control. She kisses your throat and your collarbone, undressing you slowly. The deviousness of her smile shocks you as she traces your mouth with her fingers and slips one in between your lips. You suck on it and her eyelids slip shut, her head tipping back like she's never enjoyed something so much. When you're feeling a little bolder, you reach around to the back of her dress and unzip it, just as she slides your blouse off. "You should wear dresses like mine. You would be beautiful in them." she remarks and you flush, just as the ghost of a dirty thought crosses your mind that she looks more beautiful with hers on the floor. You modify the comment. "You would look beautiful in anything." It's true and she flushes a little, even though you are both mostly naked. She slides a hand around to your bra and when she lowers her head to suckle at the nipple, you gasp aloud. Even your most lewd fantasies can't come close to the real thing. You stroke her hair and gasp out another half-formed exclamation when she moves her attention to your other breast. You realize you're grinding your pelvis against her, but she's been doing most of the work up until now and without a word you press her back so she's sitting on the couch. You have to admit you're pretty nervous about what you're about to do, but you kiss her again, sliding down her body in a fluid motion you're pretty proud of. You gently stroke the inside of her thigh with one hand, and she gives a gasp, her eyelids fluttering and her head going back, just from that simple gesture. You're encouraged, and put your mouth on her, realizing that she wasn't wearing panties. You remember that she'd been expecting Spy to stay the night and can't help but smirk around your task that you were the one appreciating it. You tongue along her clitoris, approving of the taste and listening to her above you as the little gasps she's making become long moans. You kiss the insides of her thighs before pulling away and your eyes lock. She looks almost dreamy and she offers you her hand. You accept the help and she sits you down on the couch, running one hand up your leg. You shiver. You are a virgin, so it hurts a little when she presses a finger inside you, but when you become used to the idea, you find that two more fingers feel very, very nice. "Oh my God!" you exclaim when she starts sliding the digits in and out of you. You mean to say something, apologize for sounding lame perhaps, but it's getting harder to think and you just cry out. You snuggle next to her on the couch when it's done and she puts her arm around you. "Thank you." she tells you, and you don't speak at all after that as this doesn't require any further explanation. "Yo, what the hell are you grinning about?" The BLU Spy had been grinning like an idiot for the entire day and Scout wanted to know what the hell was up. Scout pointed at the manila folder his older team mate held. "The hell's that." "Just...a little gift for the RED Spy." "What the hell are you giving a fucking RED anything for?" "Oh, I just thought zat he would be personally interested in ze latest pornography starring your mother." Scout wasn't quite sure if he actually appreciated the joke, but he found himself grinning triumphantly at the RED Spy the next day when he spotted him on the battlefield.
Part 4 Your breath hitches as her tongue glides up the inner part of your upper thigh and you sink further into the nest of pillows on her bed. You wriggle your shoulders pleasurably into soft fabric scented by Yves Rocher perfume, spring-meadow fabric softener and the smoke of hot iron steam. She's taking her time with you, humming softly at the moment her tongue brushes your clitoris. "Oh! D..don't stop!" She leaves you lost for words once again and you thread your fingers into her thick black hair. Your gaze drifts down, rewarded by the barest hints of eyelids that are hooded by lust, cosmetics and long dark lashes. Her eyes flash upwards for the briefest second and she catches your gaze. Instead of the usual hint of a smirk however, the expression is serious enough to startle you from your mounting ecstasy. "M...more..." you gasp. It seems like the 'right' thing to say, but the warm pressure against your most sensitive area is removed too quickly. "Darling?" You look down at her, nestled between your thighs and you find yourself a touch aggravated by the interruption. "What?" you pause, making amends to your tone quickly. "What is the matter?" "I just wanted to invite you for Christmas dinner, before I forget." It sounds beautiful for a split second but in the next it seems a very tall order indeed. You can feel yourself backing up against the pillows. "With...everyone?" She sits up fully now as if she was anticipating such a reaction. "Well of course! I want you to meet my whole family!" Your jaw drops. "I haven't even told my parents yet!" The glare she gives you causes you to straighten your spine and fold up your knees beneath you. You prepare to argue further in spite of your still demanding state of arousal. "I will, it's just that they're going to be a tough room!" "I'm not inviting your parents. I'm inviting you." She's sitting up too now and you notice a bit of your own moisture cooling on her nose. She goes a little cross-eyed as she follows your vision. "I can't do this again. Falling in love, without knowing who it is I'm loving. I just can't love a blank mask." Her gaze drifts down to alight bashfully on her right knee. Her chin drops with it and you swallow your pride for the present, leaning down to draw her face back to eye level with your own. You can understand her sentiment and furthermore you can't refuse."I'll be there. I promise." The smile on her face is worth it, you decide. So is the kiss that follows and the fact that she tucks her head under your chin and falls asleep almost immediately. That blissful expression lingers on her face, despite the fact that you are still squirming with unfulfilled desire. As your blood cools and you drift off to sleep yourself, you know that this promise will haunt you. Sure enough, it crops up again first hand when you're unpacking a lunch she made for you. Mother to the very last, you have often found the gift of a bulging paper bag resting in the mail box when you're staying at your own place or waiting on the counter when you are staying with her. "Damn. What a shit team this year. Hey batta batta, SHAWING!" You'd know Scout's taunts anywhere, even before he crashes into the seat in front of you. Behind you, the varsity team member in question doggedly slugs the ball into the shortstop's waiting glove. "Like you could do better." you snort. It's unladylike and you glance around to see if anyone has noticed, but they don't. You can be unladylike in front of Scout. "Hell yeah I can." Scout jabs a finger into his chest, dog tags jingling a mile a minute. "Let's say I know a thing or two about playin' ball." "Getting a ball to the head, maybe." You pass him half your sandwich. "Want some?" "HELL NO!" "What have you got against baloney!" you ask. Scout can be unpredictable, but you're genuinely surprised by this balking reaction, pulling your hand and the offensive comestible close to your chest as though he'll bite your fingers off. "I've seen enough sandwiches to last me several dozen lifetimes. Maybe more. I'll take that apple though." You toss him the fruit warily, waiting for him to get to the point. "So what did you really come here to talk about?" "I hear you're comin' over for Christmas." "Yeah." "So don't worry so much." "It's your whole family! Kind of a big step there!" "Even if you weren't a girlfag, Jimmy's a fag and we make fun of him." Scout chomps on a bite of the apple, glaring at it as though it held the answers to the universe. At least he's trying. He swallows. "'An' we don't hate him or his boyfriend. 'Sides, you're dating 'Ma. Ain't no one gonna make fun of Ma." Scout waves a hand. The gesture is as casual as flicking away a pesky fly. You're not convinced. "Thanks. I feel so much better." "Can the sarcasm." Scout warns. "It don't suit a girl." You sigh. "I don't mean it. I just feel like I've got a lot to live up to." "Spy?" You can hear the disdain in his tone. "No." You weren't thinking about Spy actually. Until now. "A bit." "Spy's a -" "-Cockfag." you finish the less than flattering epithet. "You've made that abundantly clear." "Don't make it less true." You nod, opting to close the conversation before you really stick your foot in your mouth. Scout might not be picking up on it, but his eight older brothers just might remember their Dad a little better. You bite your tongue and all you can say is "I promised I'll be there." Your parents don't put up a fight. They can't wait to meet this 'Scout' you always talk about, insisting that you return the favour at New Years. What a sad, pathetic laugh. You're already thinking up excuses to be somewhere else for the big countdown. The pounding on the front door to your house is one you have quickly come to know and love, even if it is rousing you from your nap earlier than you would have liked. You quickly blink sleep from your eyes and race down the stairs. "Hi Sc-" Unexpectedly, his hands twine into the fabric of your jumper blouse and he pushes you back indoors a little roughly, cutting your greeting off with a harsh whisper. "Danny!" You barely have time to process this before a short, stocky gentleman in a pair of coveralls and a shirt in the same blue as Scout's own comes along the walkway, slogging a path through the December snow. Scout releases your clothing and turns to wave excitedly to him. "Hey, she's home! Yeah, this is my friend and stuff. The one I was telling you about. Come meet her!" "I'm a friend of Danny and his family." you say carefully, wondering just how much detail Scout had intimated to this man about the relationship you held. "Pleased to meet you." "Dell Conagher. Pleasure's mine ma'am." You notice he's extended his left hand. The right hangs at his side, obscured by a large workman's glove. It feels awkward, but you return the backwards greeting without comment. You notice that he's shivering quite a bit with the cold. "Would you like to come in?" He waves his hand dismissively. It's the right one this time. "Don't want t'be imposin' ma'am. I'm jus' droppin' Danny here off t'visit his family an' I'll be right on my way. Got a friend here in Boston who reckons he just might have the solution to a little problem I've been lookin' into back at work, then I've got a long flight home t'Texas." "Some other time then." you say, even as your eye catches a flash of black metal peeking out from the hem of the glove. Some sort of prosthetic hand? A work injury perhaps? "D'you have the key?" Scout asks you, hopping from one foot to another. He's wearing the outfit you have come to associate with his 'work uniform' and if the Texan fellow was feeling the cold, he must be frozen. "Sure thing." you fish the spare key that you were given out and hand it to him, then turn your attention back to your other guest who is now leaning himself against the door frame. "Nice to have met you Mr. Conagher." "Well ain't you polite." Dell smiles at you and although his voice is warm, he's watching the exchange between you and Scout with a nervous and concerned look in his eyes. He glances at his hand; the left again. Almost instantly he seems to relax and his expression suddenly becomes genuine. "A real pleasure, young lady. Sure is nice t'see someone 'round teachin' our Danny some manners." You chuckle a bit nervously yourself and perform the opposite handshake once more. Scout pockets the key and follows his friend back to his pickup truck. "Be back in a sec!" Even though you feel guilty for trying to eavesdrop, you leave the storm door open in spite of the temperature and strain to hear them talk through the screen. "Sheesh, Engie." Scout says, obviously assuming you're out of earshot. "Scare th' hell outta her why don't you! You're like supposed to be the nice one an' shit. You were treatin' her like she was some fuckin' dirty Spy!" You sneak as close to the open screen as you dare. "You of all folks should be worryin' about him, Scout. Yeh know he's been gettin' worse than usual, especially t'the likes of you. Can't be too careful with his lot." "So that's the only reason you came with me? To do a damn Spy check?" "Better safe than sorry." Dell's tone is both dark and disappointed. "I thought a lot better of y'all Scout. With your Mama an' all them brothers an' a nice lady friend there? Y'all never know what lengths someone like him will go to." "Shit Engie, I care. I can take care of Ma an' her ...er...my friend an' the whole crew against that scummy Spy myself. I don't need you to help me with that. Totally got it covered. So. Uh. what's this problem you're getting your buddy to help you with?" You realize you must be out of hearing range, as you're sure that you just heard something along the lines of Spah keeps sappin' mah sentries. That made no more sense than any of the other things you just heard, except the insinuations that Spy could be a dangerous head-case. The sound of a vehicle pulling away and feet hurtling back towards the house gets you moving again, and you pretend to be packing up some books when the screen door bangs open for a second time. "Sorry about earlier! It's just we're not supposed to talk about base stuff with people an' I don't usually, but you're okay. Engineer's a good guy but he gets paranoid. S'where's Ma?" "Out at the shops." you tell him. You're getting good at processing Scout's mile-a-minute chatter. "You're lucky you caught me. I've got a final later this afternoon." "You weren't studying?" he asks incredulously. "Shit, I was always freaking out the night before a test. Man though, tests the day before Christmas Eve?" "Hey, you were working right up until today too. Plus, I don't like cramming." Suddenly however, you wished you had been, as your mind is now spinning with thoughts that have very little to do with Physics 101. "Speaking of, look at the time. I'd better get going!" "Good luck!" Scout calls to your back but you don't turn around. You're already lost in thought. You have plenty of time to make it to your test, but you wanted a chance to process everything before it distracted you completely. This was not the first time you'd found there to be a strange aura about Scout. No, you didn't imagine he wasn't some nutter who liked to bash skulls in with his bat, but you always figured there was something he wasn't saying. You got the same vibe from Dell Conagher. First, even without the conversation you'd overheard, there were the funny nicknames. Some weren't as suspicious. Sometimes he talked about 'Heavy' and you can kind of picture Scout giving a nickname like that to tease someone about being a touch overweight. You might have taken 'Engie' to be an endearing abbreviation of 'Engineer'. It really came down to 'Soldier' and 'Spy'. If someone were a Soldier, then what was their rank? If they were a Spy, why would they ever tell the world that they were one? Weren't Spies supposed to be secretive? Somehow you manage to get your mind back on track for your Physics final and you even dare to think you've done pretty well. You can't relax though, as you're heading over to her house for the dinner. This is the big night and you can feel your heart hammering nervously, even after you turn in your paper to the adjudicator. When you let yourself back into your house to change for the party, you notice a splintering dent in the wooden door frame, right where Engineer had been leaning. You swallow down a lump in your throat.
You grip your gifts tightly as you make your way home. There's a bottle of maple syrup your cousin in Vermont sent you, and you think it will make a perfect gift for Scout. Your mother came through and baked enough homemade cookies to feed an army, which you are sure was almost certainly going to be the turnout at this evening's festivities. Your fingers clench a touch convulsively as you finger a small package that contains a locket on a chain: a tiny heart shaped 10 karat gold pendant. It had cost you nearly thirty dollars and you can't help feeling a little nervous as to whether or not she will like it. "Hello?" You call as you duck into the shop that is to be the last on your route home. It's a coffee pub, but apart from the warmth, it's the young man behind the counter you're interested in speaking with. His name is Jason and he's one of the most senior and respected teaching assistants at the University. Like many students, he holds down a second job to cover his expenses. "How are you? Did your finals go well?" Jason seems glad to see you. "Yes!" you reply, meaning the enthusiasm. "I have a question. Also, may I have a small half-and-half?" "Well, if you're still looking to get into my seminar, you might be in luck." That's not the question you were after, but you perk up. "Really?" "Yes. Have you heard of Hans Waechter?" "Yes." you say slowly. "He's a genius German Scientist, worked with the Nazi party. I think I'd like a slice of coffee cake too." "I like you. You're a good scientist and you'll make a good doctor." Jason tells you seriously. Normally you would glow with pride at such a compliment however you are way too interested in this turn of events. He dishes out your slab of cake and you pay the seventy-five cents, adding a nickel to the tip jar as incentive to keep talking. You're not disappointed. "Listen. I shouldn't be saying this, especially since you're a woman and the college has a reputation to uphold in that regard." He looks around, unnecessarily in your opinion. The only other customer is a small, withered elderly gentleman. He doesn't seem like he's all there, let alone about to undermine a prestigious University institution. "Okay." "Waechter was recently rumoured to be a homosexual." Jason said seriously. "A homosexual? I thought he was a Nazi." Jason sighed. "I seriously believe that Waechter is a queer. However the Goldburg family is a major contributor to our college. They are not happy that their top researchers is basing his study on a Nazi. During my research however, I have come across some information regarding his personal life that makes it sound as though this 'Nazi' business was a lie to save him from the concentration camps. Whatever he believes or does...look. I guess I could be in just as much trouble as a fag." You look up at him, startled. For a wild moment you wonder if you have given your position away somehow; let it something about your relationship leak out...or maybe Scout, he always did talk loud. You can only swallow and wait for Jason to keep going. "Well, the Goldburg family pulled their son out of my seminar, which is why there's an opening. Now I'm offering it to a girl and on top of that...I might lose my funding." "What? Why?" "Waechter started working for some subsidiary of Builders League United after the war." Jason's hands are shaking and he's cleaning the same coffee filter almost compulsively. "It was then that his suspected homosexual tendencies garnered media attention, as he had been seen in the company of a Soviet by the name of Viktor." You furrow your brow. You're not exactly a picketing sign-carrying feminist, but you find yourself indignant at being narrowed into a smaller and more condemned space, as a female in a relationship with another female. Somehow, you knew that the BLU Corporation would be making an appearance in this conversation and by this point it's too important to ignore in favour of righteous indignation. "I...um. Go on." "Well...I have reason to believe that Waechter found a way to cheat Death." "That's...crazy." You curse yourself for not putting enough shock into your voice at that statement. "I mean, if that were the case, they'd be marketing it all over the place. There's hundreds of people who would be in a rush to part with their life's savings in order to live indefinitely!" "That's the problem. It is crazy!" Jason sighs. "The more research I do though..." "Well um...I'm still glad to maybe have a spot in your class." You need to get out of there. You had come in here hoping to assuage some of your fears about Scout and the people he works with based on cold hard facts about science. Instead, you now have a million more questions to ask. You try to put it out of your mind as you head home to get changed for the party. You feel a bit self-conscious in the red dress you once bought in a fit of rare self-indulgence after that first time you had made love in her sitting room and she had said you would look pretty in fashion-model clothes like her own. It's quite a bit racier than anything you're accustomed to wearing, but you eventually decide that even if you look silly, you can pass it off as a festive choice. Scout answers the door, just ahead of two other men who look very much like him. His eyes light up when he sees you, but the next second his expression inexplicably darkens. It might have been a trick of the light though since he grabs your hand and pulls you inside, suddenly grinning cheerily again. "Nice dress, girlfag! Though you'd look better in blue!" You recall Jason's secretive conversation with a pang but try to shake it from your mind. "It's Christmas!" you protest. "Besides, it would be really creepy if I started dressing just like your mum all of the time!`` He shrugs, his interest in fashion disappearing as quickly as it came. "So listen up. I'm only gonna do this once. You already know Scotty. That's Rich and his wife Maureen. The fag with the glasses is Jimmy and his boyfriend Art." The one who looks like Scout with a slicked back hairdo and the physique of a man who spends every waking moment in a gym puts Scout in a vicious headlock. To your surprise, Scout deftly slips out of it. "Learned that one from Heavy. Jimmy'd flip if he knew his fellow fags were teaching me trade secrets." Again, you are reminded of Jason. Was Heavy Russian? Was he in a relationship with the doctor? You want to ask, but Scout would be suspicious... You grin instead and follow him into the sitting room which is packed with people. You even smirk a little at the sight of straight-laced Scotty taking his seat on the couch in the exact spot where you and his mother had first made love. He was accompanied by what loyalty and love deems the second most attractive woman you've seen, and another man who had to be yet another of Scout's siblings. "This here's Bobby and Layla." He gestures to the back side of the couch where two little boys are pushing toy trucks around the floor. "Those little monsters are my nephews, Joel and Justin." The kids give you a cursory glance and you wave back, even though they are clearly more interested in their game. "Iz Danny bozzering you?" Layla speaks up and the French accent jars you out of a reply. "Layla is French Canadian." Bobby explains, clearly having noted your surprise. "From where?" Even you think your tone is a bit abrupt and you quickly try to explain yourself. "I was just curious because a friend of my father's is from Quebec. They fought together in the war." "I am from Laval." she says smoothly and you force a smile onto your face. For whatever reason, something about this lady unnerves you. "Oh of course, that's a different region." "Where is your mother?" you ask, anxious to see her, but also to dispel the disquieting atmosphere and change the topic. "You didn't tell Ma she was here?" "I was freakin' introducing her to people!" Scotty rolls his eyes and disappears into the kitchen. "Ah, so you are ze lucky lady. Zhat is very progressive of you." Layla smiles. You are saved the trouble of trying to decide upon the sincerity of that statement as a very familiar form bathed in a cloud of perfume descends upon you. "Merry Christmas!" "Merry Christmas!" You reply, holding out the presents. Instead of running to add them to the small mountain under the tree, she leans over and kisses you on the cheek. "Way to go Ma!" one of the Scout brothers cheers, and you feel yourself start to relax. Scout had been right that no one made fun of their Ma. "Would you like some help in the kitchen?" "Oh no sweetheart. I think I have more than enough help." She thrusts an apron at Danny to general snickering and Bobby gets up as well to refill his wife's drink. He offers you one as well and you accept the glass of what turns out to be eggnog enthusiastically. You move aside to offer him his place back on the couch, but he turns instead and disappears into the kitchen with a significant glance at his wife. "I'll be right back." This leaves you on the couch with Layla and you take a sip of eggnog for something to do. In spite of being rather unsure of whether or not you like her, you recognize the opportunity to speak to someone who has been close to this family for much longer than you. Fortunately for you, she breaks the ice first. "So, Danny tells me zhat you are studying to be un docteur." "Yes, that's right. I'm enjoying my studies so far." She laughs delicately. "I would never have ze brains for zomething like that." Something tells you that she is affecting an attitude, but you shake your head in a gesture you hope conveys something like 'oh I am sure you are brilliant madam'. "Do you plan to set up a little practice someday?" You grip your glass tighter in a fit of inspiration that feels like preparing to take a leap off of a very high cliff. "I was thinking of asking Danny if there was an opening in Builders League United. He mentioned that he worked with medics at one point." The reaction this statement received is not the horrified one you were expecting or even a dire warning. Layla bends over, nearly slopping her drink down her front as she snorts with laughter. "You...you want to be a medic for BLU?" "I happen to believe that women can do any job a man can." This only served to make this woman laugh louder, practically crying and you struggle to remain civil as your gaze drifts to the two rugrats with their toys. "So you are trying to tell me that you truly believe despite all proof to the contrary that our gender is only good for cooking, cleaning and rearing children?" "Non. I am saying that you are definitely not ze correct gender for zhat particular job." She is still giggling lightly to this inexplicable private joke as she stands abruptly. "Since you are so interested in les petites enfants I have some simply marvellous pictures zhat you must see." She takes you by the hand, pulling you with surprising strength out past the kitchen and into the hallway. She pushes open a door at the end of the hall where a child's bed stands with a pile of various coats and handbags laid in haphazard array atop of it. She goes to rifle through it, presumably for her purse and you move towards the window with the open curtain. Two people are standing out there and you peer closer at them, trying to make out who they are. Abruptly you realize that you are overseeing a private kiss between a man and a woman and as you start to pull away in embarrassment, you can't help but notice that the woman looks very familiar. In spite of yourself, you lean in again. "Layla, are you a twin?" the words have barely left your lips as the door to the bedroom clicks shut. You whirl in shock, stumbling in your unfamiliar party heels and it costs you dearly. A thin, but decidedly unfeminine arm wraps its way around your throat. You start to struggle and draw breath for a yell, but you don't require the hand pressed over your mouth as your bid for freedom causes a long tear in your dress back. Whoever this guy is, he's got a knife. "You will not scream, petite?" You shake your head to the best of your ability and he seems satisfied. "Bien." The glove is pulled away from your mouth and you are spun to face your attacker. Your brain is working fast - it's a stupid move on his part and you are ready to prove it. A swift kick in the nuts, as Scout would say. "You!" your knee stills halfway up as you freeze in surprise. "What did you do with Layla...and...?" You're too confused to react. It was impossible. It was Spy. He shoves you away from him and onto the bed where you find your back slammed against the pile of coats. "Perhaps you should join up with ze BLU team. You are an easy target, mademoiselle." He has the butterfly knife pointed at you and your heart leaps into your mouth. You grope behind you for a heavy handbag, hopefully, or a coat to blind him with. "What do you want with me? It's not worth killing me over a relationship, is it?" He smiles and it's terrible behind the mask. "Non, I am not here to kill you. I am simply interested in a solution to zhis problem that will benefit both of us." "If you touch me, I will go to the authorities." "I assure you, zhey will not find me." He flicked the knife away in a practiced motion that has you staring. "I also know when I have lost a battle. I merely wish to be with ma Petite Choufleur one final time." "You are...asking me permission to..." you start looking for a weapon again. "That's...you're sick! Twisted!" "I never said zhat I would be leaving you out of ze fun, now did I." You are certain there must be some ring of truth to that old childhood threat about a face becoming frozen in an expression as yours seems to be stuck on perpetual surprise. A quick flicker to Spy's form and you are once again looking at Layla. "You prefer women, non? Am I not now a beautiful woman?" "How...?" "Eet was simple. Zhis woman has a third child. A baby. She and her husband were planning to sneak away before dinner, but ze little one had to be changed and put down for a nap, as little children must. Not wishing to gatecrash, I merely assumed her identity and returned to the party early so that I could arrange our evening's entertainment." "But the..." You gesture vaguely to try and encompass the spectacle you've just witnessed. "Ah, but I must be leaving. I do apologize for ruining your dress. I will be seeing you both tonight." He shrugged out of his suit jacket and laid it across your lap. "Please try not to get anything on it, would you mademoiselle?" He disappears suddenly, and the only thing standing between you and the notion that eggnog might have been the culprit is the tear in your dress and the pinstriped jacket which smells strongly of cigarettes and men's cologne.
Spy has effectively put you into a position that you can't see a way out of. He could be one, or all or none of the people at the party. If you tried to let slip some information and it was to the wrong person, someone innocent could get hurt. Not to mention that you've put together all the pieces now and even if it was Scout's mum you told, not only would she have to try and single-handedly stop it, but you would be compromising Scout's confidence as well. He truly had all but effectively fucked you both and that would translate to literally in a few hours. You grit your teeth and ball up the expensive suit jacket into a fist, slipping quietly out the door. There was no way in hell you were going to wear that thing in there and there was no way in hell that you were going to let Spy win. Your house is quiet and you angrily hurl the jacket to the floor of your bedroom, hoping it's good and creased. You hurriedly change your outfit, pulling on a thick coat and run out to the phone on the street. You are glad that everyone is inside, enjoying their Christmas Eve dinners or opening gifts as you spin in erratic circles with your arms outstretched every few steps, checking for invisible predators behind your back. "Operator. I need the number of a Mister Conagher in Austin Texas." "There are three Conaghers in Austin." "Uh, Dell? Dell Conagher?" "I'll put you through. Have a Merry Christmas." You clutch the phone until your knuckles are white and yet another horrible thought runs through your head. What if Dell Conagher wasn't really Dell Conagher? Scout had said he was acting weird. Your heart leaps into your mouth as a familiar voice comes crackling down the poor receiver line. "Mr. Conagher!" you exclaim before he can so much as ask who is calling. "I met you the other day with Danny!" "Now who in tarnation is...oh!" You're two steps away from crying out in relief but you try to gain control of your voice. "You have to help me, Engineer." It's obviously Dell's turn to be shocked as there's a very pregnant pause on the other end of the line. "What were you told?" "No one told me anything. I figured it out on my own when I had a surprise visit from Spy." You can feel hot tears start to trickle down and freeze on your cheeks as all of the terror and anger you were holding back is let loose. "I...don't think...s'very...hard...to...miss...getting my d-dress...ripped b-by...a...knife from a guy who can c-ch-..." "Change his shape." Dell finishes for you with a heavy sigh. "What th' gosh dang heck those RED boys are thinkin' I'll never know." You wipe the tears away from your eyes and ask in a hushed whisper: "Can you help me?" "Well I can't hardly fly all the way back t'Boston on Christmas Eve. Got my own family t'look after. I do have someone who might be able to help y'all. It'll be a pain t'track him down and there's a few good other fellas I'd prefer, but he'll be the closest and the best. All I need yeh t'do is dry up those tears and get yourself back inside that house. Y'all stick right close t'Scout and keep your wits about you. That's mighty important." You nod, forgetting for a second that Dell can't see you. "Okay, but what if he tries to pretend to be Scout?" "We had that problem loads 'o' times. Cost us real bad the first time. Thing we learned is, he's real good at impersonatin' Scout, but there's always clues. There some bit of information Scout should know but his impostor doesn't? Y'all get out of there quick-like." You take a deep breath and look back up the street at the house. They'll probably be wondering where you are. "Thank you." "Weren't no thing." he says warmly and you're almost put entirely at ease before he adds a few final words. "I promise the next time I run into that RED Spy, I'll have a point or two to make about harassing civilians." "Merry Christmas." You want to get off the phone with him as you try not to think about what that tone implied as to how the point was to be made. You again perform your little hopping dance down the street as you make your way back, hoping beyond hope that Dell Conagher will be true to his word about getting you your help. "Hey!" Scout shouts at you, the moment you come back to the living room. He's still wearing the apron. "What the hell, girlfag?" "Oh, I ruined my dress. I just went and changed clothes since it was right next door." "Oh, too bad." Scout takes you into the kitchen. "Well come on, if we hang out here any longer we'll miss dinner!" Bobby and Layla are back inside and you entertain the thought of asking Layla about the conversation with you earlier that you really had shared with Spy. Obviously, the woman would have no idea what you were talking about. The question was, would Scout pick up on the clue? Or would you find yourself with a knife jammed into your back for trying. "Hey, you listening?" Scout's harsh whisper jars you out of your thoughts. "No sorry, kinda spaced out there for a moment." "Who is that dame talkin' to Ma?" You follow his gaze. A gorgeous woman who looks very familiar is indeed talking to Scout's Mother. "She says she's an old friend of Ma's and she kinda looks familiar, but I don't know why. She's pretty hot, don't you think?" Those words jar your memory. You do know her and not just because you realize this has to be Spy's new disguise. About a month ago, some of the boys from the frat house had tossed out a skin rag, and it had blown out of the trash pile into your yard. After Scout had finished explaining exactly what he thought of you for reading the thing and you had suffered the humiliation of realizing he was joking, the two of you sat down and flipped through it. The redhead in question was almost certainly Miss November. You decide to risk it. "That's cause she's S-" "Dinnertime!" There's a mad dash for the table. It's almost funny how Scout practically mows down his brothers to sit next to Spy. He wouldn't touch the man with a ten foot pole normally (not that you don't understand that sentiment), but he's practically putting his elbows in the gravy to 'help' her. You take a seat by Scout's mother who is grinning a bit bashfully. "Now don't be jealous, but Victoria over there is an old friend. I haven't seen her since Highschool. She was in Boston for the first time in ages and couldn't resist saying hello. She didn't seem to have anything to do, so I invited her to stay. First words out of her mouth was that I looked the same as I ever did and was awful pretty and how much of a shame it was that I was already taken. Never did remember her being such an awful flatterer." She laughs again and pats your hand when you grip her thigh tightly under the table, but the gesture isn't the jealous-possessive one she imagines it to be. You have to protect her at all costs. You know this for a fact. Dinner is delicious but you can barely taste it. You keep an idle hand in the conversation, but your eyes keep drifting toward 'Victoria'. She catches your gaze at long last and you narrow your eyes at her. She smirks right back, deliberately brushing her (his?) fingers against Scout's, causing him to nearly drop the bowl of potatoes he's holding. You want to shout at him, tell him and tell everyone there the truth, but how can you? The mad dash for presents afterwards denies you yet another opportunity for explanations and warnings. Even your concerns are curtailed for a while as you watch anxiously while your gifts are opened. "Oh my goodness." She turns to you, holding the locket she'd just unwrapped in her hand. "It's beautiful. You didn't have to do that though. It must have cost you a fortune!" "It was worth it." You smile at her, taking it back from her hands and leaning forward to put it on her. "Hey, Ma! Mistletoe!" Scout chortles from across the room, pointing above you and you find your ears burning as she gives you a long deep kiss in front of everyone. "Afterwards, come have a talk with me outside." she whispers as you draw away. You nod and set about defusing the attention from your kiss as you open a package from Scout. Much to your surprise it turns out to be a hand-knit sweater. Unusually, there's a large bullseye target pattern on it. It looks warm and comfortable though and right about your size. "Did you make this yourself?" you question him. "Nah, guy I know at work knits." he replies. Victoria is chuckling, which doesn't surprise you. Evidently she must know the man in question. You get a few more gifts from the Scout brothers you've met - a pen set from Scotty and, to your surprise a small bottle of a liquorice flavoured liquor from Jimmy and Art. "Us fags have to stick together, right?" Jimmy winks at you, and you smile first at him, then at Scout's Mother, who shakes her head. The only other person who knew your favourite candy was Scout and when you hug him tightly, it's his turn for his ears to look embarrassed. "Don't get too excited girlfag. It's probably cheap." he mumbles. Too soon, the party is winding down; everyone's having a last glass of eggnog, the younger pair of Scout cousins are playing with their new toys and people are stuffing themselves on the cookies you brought even though they claimed to being full up from dinner. Scout's Mother sets down her glass and draws you up from the couch. There's none of the usual oohs and ahhs this time as it seems everyone is too tired. You don't notice that Victoria's followed you until you're all shivering out on the patio together. Both women's eyes are sparkling and Scout's Mother speaks first. "I ah...I thought well, that is to say, Victoria suggested we..." She's bashful about it, but you can do nothing but wait for her to finish the sentence, even though you already know how it will end. "Just one night, I've never done anything this exciting before. I mean, the three of us. Please?" She's sincere about the request, kinky as it sounds. She's not looking to replace you, she's just excited, maybe a little tipsy. It's looking less and less likely that Dell Conagher got a hold of his friend, but maybe there's still hope. Your mouth dry, you nod. "Okay." You sound and feel like your throat is being constricted by a pound of sawdust. Before you know it, she's got both your hands in hers and you're sneaking in the side door through the kitchen and out into the hall. Your heart is hammering in your throat as you ascend the stairs with her in front of you and Victoria, no, Spy prodding you up the stairs from behind. Maybe, maybe just something that Spy does will tip her off and end this. She's slept with him before, right? On the landing, you flinch violently when Victoria puts her hands on your hips. You're remembering the knife, but she only rubs her fingers in small, gentle circles on the sides of your lower back, working inwards toward your spine. A massage. You try not to relax too much, but you find yourself pressing against back against her, astonished at the fact that somehow, the illusion was palpable. Soft, large breasts were cushioning your shoulder blades and for that moment you're able to imagine that this was nothing more than a kinky but safe experiment, fuelled by a little bit of alcohol and a whole lot of lust. That is until he bends down. His soft whisper is for your ears only. "That's it petite. Relax." You can't do anything but at this point, not with those maddening fingers forcing your muscles to turn to jello. You're hyperaware of everything, down to the candle on the dresser, it's light flickering a single wisp of vanilla perfume into the air. With Victoria behind you and your lover in front of you, giving you her full attention, bending to catch your lips in a kiss that is quite possibly more sensual than usual, you can feel warmth spreading through your entire body like an element on the stove. She's undressing herself while you can feel Victoria working at the button on your skirt, kissing warm pressure on your neck. Through your haze, you watch her removing her rings and bracelets along with her dress and shoes, but you notice that she's kept your necklace on and you smile. You gasp aloud when you feel your skirt drop away and a warm hand slide beneath the waistband of your underwear, teasing lightly against the lips of your pussy, one finger slipping in to tease along the hood of the clitoris. "Sp-" you try to find the words to stop it, but the sight before you of Scout's mother, entirely naked and rolling her thumb and forefinger over the nipple of her right breast, giving it a pinch and tipping her head to moan softly back makes you stop. It's not lost on Victoria either, whose movements still and you are sure you can hear a whispered "Mon Dieu." Scout's Mother's eyes snap open and she slides backwards against the covers, one finger beckoning you over. "Bring her here." "My pleasure." There's a gentle nudge from behind you and you walk forward, your hand slipping into hers, to pull you forward onto the bed. The sound of a zipper being lowered sounds behind you, but that seems to be unimportant. Scout's mother has you on the bed, on top of you, but not entirely, grinding her pelvis against your hip bone. As she thrusts, she pushes aside the fabric of your now thoroughly soaked panties and slicks her fingers against you, continuing the job that Victoria started. Perhaps its the fact that she's here that you don't put a stop to this madness. Perhaps it's simply the fact that you can't bring yourself to want to stop something that feels this good. You kiss her hard, her tongue deep inside your mouth and you suck lightly on the thick muscle which brushes the roof of your mouth. She moans, low and in utter pleasure and you smile, letting out a breathy sigh yourself. While this is going on, Victoria (you can't quite bring yourself to think of her as 'Spy') has made her way back over to the bed, picking up one of your feet and pressing points on the inseam, the balls of your feet and each toe. It feels amazing and as you break for air, you tell her so. "Sexual reflexology." She explains and you don't even try to suppress the moan that follows as she licks a warm, wet trail up the inseam of your foot. It does not stop there, the trail continues up, up and to the inside of your thigh where she takes Scout's mother's fingers into her hand and licks each of them before pulling your underwear off all of the way and nibbling lightly on your clit, her tongue delving deep inside you but refusing to stop there, twisting and driving in and out of you. You moan aloud, not even willing to remember that Scout and probably some of his other brothers as well are still in the house and might be able to hear you. Your fingers reach out for Scout's mother, running your fingertips across her nipples until they harden and fingering her easily enough while she continues to make out with you. She stops you however and the warmth and maddening tongue are removed from within you much to your displeasure. You open your eyes curiously, to watch as Victoria leans across you to capture her lips in a kiss, holding onto her wrist and producing a bottle of lubricant from somewhere. You stare, first to wonder why on earth you would need it at this point then to wonder what else this device of Spy's has to offer. You were banking on a gut feeling he would not be able to get through this without pulling out his cock, but as if his female persona is reading your thoughts she gives you an immensely sly smirk as she lubricates one of Scout's mother's fingers. You watch as she instructs her, without words, to insert the single digit and she mimes the circular motion of her thumb against your clitoris. More lubrication is added to you and the finger is removed. You can hear the blood in your ears and your heart starts to race as Victoria shows her something to do with her hand. Thumb tucked in, fingers splayed in a cone shape You realize what is about to happen as you recall her taking off her rings and bracelets earlier. Spy intends to punish you by having her rip you apart! The fingers are positioned at your entrance and Victoria gently guides them in. You grunt, even give a little whimper as you experience being filled, slowly but more thoroughly than you can ever imagine feeling. You twist around on the bed and Scout's mother looks up at Victoria with worry in her eyes, echoing your thoughts aloud. "I'm going to hurt her!" "No, no. There, it just takes a little getting used to." You chance a look downward, imagining seeing long cracks splitting your body in two, but to your surprise, you can see her hand, up to her wrist inside you. It still feels weird, but the strangeness is almost good now, or at least bearable. "Now turn." Victoria instructs and you scream in utter rapture as she rotates her wrist, and it causes her to brush your G-Spot. You thrust up against the hand inside you, wanting to hit that spot again, and again. She's adding her own rhythm to it now and through the haze of your vision you can just barely see Victoria fingering her from behind. Her rhythm and yours seem to change erratically at the same time and it's only after your orgasm that you wonder how she would have withstood the pain of how hard you must have been clenching down on her fingers. She pulls her soaked hand free and like before, Victoria licks it up then massaging the fingers, clearly once again using her knowledge of sexual reflexology, judging from the way that her eyes slip closed as she nuzzles beside you. Before you can think, you are awoken to the sound of a yell and a thundering crash from downstairs and you can clearly hear Scout's enraged voice. "Engie told me you'd be coming here you scumbag!" To your surprise, Spy doesn't change his appearance or look remotely unnerved by the idea that Scout will come up to save you. You can feel his mother's weight leave your side as she searches for her bathrobe, frantically pulling it on. "Whatever is going ON down there?" You follow his mother and even forget to wave Spy ahead of you as you dash out to the tiny landing. The three of you crowd against the banister to get a better look at the proceedings below. "Spy!" She is the first to react, and you can barely believe what you're seeing. Scout sitting on what is unmistakably Spy's back, a baseball bat raised in the air, ready to bring it smashing down on his head. "But..." you stutter. "If that's Spy, then who..." You glance back at the woman whom you assumed was the disguised Spy behind you, then down to the landing. Surely, this IS Spy, you can see he's changed back. It's then that you notice the very important difference. His suit. It's blue, not red. You choke. "Son, I think you have a lot of explaining to do." his mother says, at exactly the same time that Scout opens his mouth to exclaim "Man. I am going to kill Engie."
...ugh, never mind about that teaser. I seem to have lost it. ...anyone got it, or am I doing a re-write?
is this still being updated? I do hope so.
Shore is...though I'm hoping someone has my Chapter 7 because while I wasn't fond of it, I'd rather not rewrite it.
I think I might have it saved...thank god I have an external hard drive other wise I might have lost it.
Actually scratch that, I don't have it, my pc crashed on me so I had to hurry and back everything up, I guess I missed that file, sorry.
Dagnabbit. Well, I'll post a few Ch.8 ones while I rewrite CH.7. I know it's a little out of sync, but I guess the plus side is that I wasn't pleased with my Ch.7 as it went. So. Massive spoiler ahead. I suppose it won't be convenient for you lot that HAVE read Ch.7 and know what went on in it since I'm going to put the whole mess under a spoiler tag. So without further ado - Ch.7 rewrite pending, Ch.8 Spoilers under tag. Two separate scenes. Scene 1: "Mom! Dad! I...I can explain!" you shout, but there's something wrong. As you sit up fully you realize what it is. You're in bed, her bed, you realize, clutching a pillow. "Bugger..." someone mutters, a male someone and unless Scout has developed an Australian accent and grown about a foot while you were out, that's definitely not anyone you know. Not bothering to wait around you launch the fluffy projectile at him and he catches it without a second thought. "Calm down," "SPY!" you are already throwing the covers back. "That's an insult." he drawls, with the very faintest smirk pushing you back to the bed. You let out a frustrated grunt. You've long learned not to fight, not even with skinny guys in fancy suits and certainly not men who slept with rifles beside their chair. "Now. Scoot's taking his mum out to the shops and to dinner. Said you wouldn't be waking up while I was still here." "Surprise." you deadpan. Your attempt at casual sarcasm quickly gives way to terror which you know you're too slow to mask. "So, Scout's not here." Mr. Tall doesn't seem to want to be there any more than you want him there. He's looking at you like you're a whole crowd of people unto yourself "I'll go downstairs for a bit." "Yeah. Guess you better." You pause, emotions rushing through you. The one thing you don't want right now is to be left on your own. "Wait. I'm going to come down. After I get dressed. For answers." "Suit yourself." You find yourself in the bathroom, splashing your face with cold water. You need a shower. She has all kinds of things in her bathroom: bubble baths and perfumes and makeup. You remember the first time you tried these out, Scout had told you that you looked like a whore. You select the plainest one you can find and take a quick, mostly tepid shower, running a comb through your hair and after a small amount of deliberation climbing back into what seem to be a pair of Scout's (or one of his brothers') loaned pajamas. You can't recall ever owning a pair with baseballs on them...or ones with a flap in the front made for....best not to think about that. The tall guy is slouched in an armchair, drinking a beer. You're about to make a comment about it being a little early for beer, but then notice the time and say nothing, so you decide you could use one for yourself and settle on the couch across from him. "How long have I been out?" He shrugs. "Four or five hours, give or take." "This is probably the first question I should have asked, but who the hell are you?" "Call me Sni--Callum." "Sniper it is." He lets out a sigh, his eyes darting around as if looking for a secret trap door he could just disappear into. You feel the same. "And...my parents?" Sniper's expression goes from socially awkward to soft and friendly so quickly you might have flicked a switch. "I'm sorry. Scout and his Mum say they tried to keep them here, but I'm afraid they weren't happy. They're done a bunk anyway an' you're...staying here. With Scout and his family from now on." They've disowned you and you don't even realize you're crying until you feel the couch sink down next to you. You've never been the type to cry on just anyone before and Sniper sits there beside you, which is probably enough. "Get involved with 2Fort and your home life goes down the shitter. Happens every time." he mutters to himself. You sit up after awhile, your sadness giving way to righteous anger. You pick up the rest of your beer and down it, wiping your mouth and your eyes at the same time. "Yeah? I didn't ask to get involved with TEW-FORT!" "Look Sheila. If anyone knows anything about this kind a stuff it's me." he says seriously. "I got a dad who treats me like I dropped outta uni and took up with a bunch of skinheads 'causea this job with BLU. Don't treat mum too keen either." You stare at him and he stares back. His patience annoys you at first but eventually you nod. "What...do you do?" "Hunt, like my job, do a little travling. Get on with my life. Wait for BLU to pay me so I can get Mum outta there" You nod again. The two of you spend the rest of the time in relative silence with the television going. He gets up to get himself another beer, brings you one as well. It goes back and forth like that. He likes watching Looney Tunes, or maybe that's all there is on. Maybe he thinks it'll make you laugh, but you find yourself re-evaluating your opinion of him. Maybe it's because Spy is the only one you've met from RED and maybe because you met Scout before you knew any of this, but none of the BLU team seems like the kind of bad people who would run around killing others all day over and over. Maybe the BLU Spy, but Dell was willing to help a near-perfect stranger and Sniper was quiet, but rather warm. Scout made for a great friend. "Hey, what's...the rest of the team like?" You speak up. You notice your words are a little slurred but you pop the cap on your next beer anyway. Sniper glances at you with a surprised expression. "Ah, BLU?" he asks. "Yeah. What're they like?" "Scout's better at that than...uh, well. Solly's pretty excitable I guess, and Truckie's..." He was spared the problem by Scout bouncing down beside you. He glances at the collection of bottles, but seems to relax once he realizes you're not in tears. "Call the Doc, I think Demo's become a girl." You smirk a little lopsided at him. "Haven't had that much." You're at the point where you know you have and ought to be putting the bottle down. You don't care and take another swig. "Hey Sniper. That's not how you tell it. You tellin' her about the team you gotta tell her the right way!" The Australian man took a long pull on his beer. "Fine by me yeh twitchy little bugger." Scene 2: The woman in the purple suit has an English accent that should have been pleasant to you. Instead it's hard and vile. "You may sit there." She looks so fragile, this Administrator. Elderly and brittle. However her eyes say otherwise. She derives joy from this suffering. "Five, Four, Three, Two, One..." Her hands poise expertly above the many wires and port-jacks. You search for Scout, finally seeking him out on the bottom most screen, rapidly moving to the second. The opposing team is kitty-corner in the upmost left. Your eyes flick down and you see some of the men you've met. The ill-fated charging Heavy and the nimble Spy. Dell doggedly constructing turret guns. Scout's waiting for something. Didn't he say he usually went for the intelligence briefcase? You knew where they were. Middle screens. He was dodging about in the second screen, running back and forth. Suddenly you knew why. A short burst from Scout's scattergun and gore erupted out of thin air. "First Blood!" the woman in purple snarled viciously and you are out of your seat at the little scrap of red pinstriped cloth that covers the outhanging video camera. You lick your lips and grin. There's tug at your skirt. You look down and see wide eyes framed by dark hair looking up at you, utterly horrified.
Part 7. Finally. AN: Well this was a bitch to rewrite but I like this version better than the old, so I guess that's okay. "Who the hell are you?" You don't bother waiting for a reply. The very last thing you're aware of is flying at the man in blue, swinging punches and not caring where they land. Your thumbs are tucked tightly in, much against the rules that Scout taught you about how to fight, but you're running on instinct. It was the last straw after this perfectly horrid revelation and you can't bring yourself to care anymore. You can feel people pulling themselves off of him. It's only afterwards that you realize you've given both Scout and his mother a black eye and a bruise apiece and the man in the blue balaclava looks like death warmed over. At least the later you can be proud of. "Okay seriously sit down. It's fucking okay girlfag." Scout is behind you, forcing you into a large armchair that's big enough for the both of you, as he sits down beside you You are torn between wanting to cry on his shoulder and shove him onto the floor. You settle for burying your face into your own hands and not shrugging him off when he puts a hand on your back. Through the haze of your tears you can see her and you straighten. She's suffering worse than you. The least you can do is try to be strong for her sake. You can feel your limbs trembling violently as you flick your gaze over the assembled parties. The man you know as Spy has been tied up and while his countenance is rather disaffected, his eyes seem to dart around, betraying his worry. You are shocked by his extreme resemblance to the man in the blue balaclava but now that you are up close, you can see differences between them. Spy's eyes are lined by crow's feet and the man in blue is clearly quite a bit younger and is clearly unable to disguise the fact that he is becoming increasingly frightened and frantic. Scout's mother is sitting stiff and straight, hands folded neatly in her lap. "I want to know what is going on here." "Ma I..." Scout trails off as he looks at his mother's stony face. "Ma Petite..." "Don't call me that ever again." "Je pense que...I wish to apologize for..." "I'd like that." You try to snarl at him but it comes out more like a whimper than you had intended. "I want to know what is going on, right now." You recognize that tone from your own mother, and sure enough Scout's hand stills in rubbing your back. "Jesus, Ma. It ain't that simple!" "Danny!" "What 'arm can eet do?" The BLU Spy spoke up. "What harm? They'll kill her ya French Fag! You should know, you're the one who keeps hammering on about all your great connections to the 'higher ups' and how I should be the one readin' my contract closer!" It takes a moment to realize Scout is talking about you. The Red Spy smirks "I fail to see ze problem." "Fuck, am I the only one with a brain in my head today? They gonna kill MA too! An' US For narkin' to our families!" For the first time since you've met him, the RED Spy looks worried. Whether it's concern for Scout's mother or more likely for himself, you can't say. It is not as gratifying as you had hoped: seeing a man of his stature look so concerned makes you realize the potential severity of your situation. "BLU is all over the place. RED too." the BLU Spy is shaking his head. "What do you mean?" You ask. "Everyone knows where the big BLU and RED towers are downtown, bet there's lots in other big cities." The BLU Spy looks at you. "I can tell you, you are mistaken. You go grocery shopping, do you not, mademoiselle? You are ze good girl, eat your vegetables? Per'aps you buy from Happy Farmers. Or per'aps you buy Red Bread. I notized zhose Fraternity hooligans buy Blue Streak Beer." "Those are coincidences. It has Blue in the name so you're trying to tell me it has to do with Builders League United? Next you'll be telling me that just because my parents use Redstone Cargo to send me care packages tha..." You trail off as you find not only both Spies nodding, but Scout glumly nodding agreement as well. "Ever eaten at a Sanders' BBQ?" Scout points out. "Used to kinda like going there until I found out it was a RED company." "That's why you wouldn't come with us on family outings?" You'd almost forgotten that she was there. "What could you possibly be doing out there that would cause you to be afraid of a fried chicken place?" "They fight...and kill eachother. Probably a lot. But they don't die. He can make himself invisible and change their appearances. They both can." Your finger gestures between the Spies before you turn to Scout. "It's the truth, I know. Dell told me." Scout nods miserably, muttering a shit, Engie under his breath. She is staring, but not at her son. "You knew?" "It...it wasn't him, it was him! He threatened me! So I called that Dell Conagher guy and he said he'd get help, I...I'm sorry." You are quickly realizing how much of a coward you've been, how much of a bad mistake you've made. "Why didn't you tell ME?!" "I...I didn't want to ruin Christmas." It sounds so lame coming from your own ears. She stands, livid with rage. "You didn't want to ruin Christmas? I can not believe the one I am having! My son lies to me, my girlfriend lies to me." "Ma! It was for your own good!" "Quiet Danny." She points to the BLU Spy. "You, I have no words for. You are a disgusting disgrace!" You can't help but agree, even if the expression on the man's face is akin to a whipped dog. It's her final words, directed at the RED Spy though they are that sting you to your very core. "The worst thing is that you might be the least sickening of the entire lot!" Her voice trembles as tears start to leak down her cheeks. "And that's not saying very much! Now get those masked freaks out of here!" With that she storms out and you can hear her climb the stairs. The BLU Spy rises from his seat and tries to appear nonchalant as he heads for the door. Scout quickly leaps forward to untie the RED one. Numbly you move forward to help him. You notice that he is wearing his jacket again which meant he broke into your house, but in light of your reprimand you cannot bring yourself to give him the slap in the face you would have so enjoyed just an hour or so earlier. As you sit back on the couch, you and Scout watch through the window as both Spies exit into the street, the BLU one already fading from view. "What's it like, dying?" you ask, even as the RED one winks out of sight. "Christ, I don't know girlfag. Depends on who gets ya. Best you can hope for is a Sniper or a few'a Demo's Grenades. Don't feel a thing. It's either straight headshots or instant pieces. Get a Spy's knife in your back and you're gurgling on the ground for hours. Engineers like upgrading their Sentries to be these Death machines, but they're not bad. You gotta watch out for those little ones. They'll take off an arm or a leg, but you'll live for awhile yet." "Stop! I mean...after. If you're blown into little pieces, how do you, y'know, get back together?" "Respawn. S'just what we've always called it. I dunno, everything just goes dark and then next thing you know, boom, you wake up in Respawn." "But, how does it work?" "I asked Engie once. He told me not to mess with it or ask questions, which is stupid 'cause all he does is screw around with it. I think he built it!" You fall silent. You'd be willing to believe Scout was secretly the Pope if he told you so at this point. "I really screwed up, didn't I." You jerk a thumb in the direction of the stairs. "We screwed up." Scout points out. "Don't worry though, I know Ma. She likes ya too much not to take you back. You just gotta go talk to her." You can feel a wry smile creep it's way onto your face. "Why do I think that's easier said than done?" Scout gives a grin that's half of his usual cocky smirk. "Good luck." You swallow and start for the stairs, when you hear Scout call out to you. "Hey, Girlfag?" You pause. "Yeah?" "Tell Ma...tell her not to worry about what we said about dying. You an' her dyin' I mean. I'm gonna get some protection for you. I'm gonna pick the person this time because shit, 11 PhD's and Engie's still a stupid chucklenuts. Sendin' Spy!" He throws up his hands with a frustrated shout. "Well get going then. I'm fuckin' makin' pancakes. Ain't lettin' no scummy Spyfags ruin fuckin' Christmas pancakes. Jesus!" Christmas pancake breakfasts are about the furthest thing from your mind as you ascend the stairs. You knock on the door, but all that happens is that it comes a little ajar. You are met with no resistance as you slowly push it open. She is sitting on the bed, streaks of mascara from last night clumped on her bottom eyelashes and running down her cheeks, her eyes huge and red-rimmed in her face. She hasn't changed from her bathrobe and the bedspread around her is littered with crumpled tissues. A fresh wave of guilt sweeps over you but she doesn't shout at you, not even when you sit on the edge of the bed. "I wanted to apologize. I know I made a bad decision. He put a knife to my back. He threatened me. It was more than just ruining Christmas. For what it's worth I tried to keep you from knowing so that he would not do the same to you. Or, to your family. Instead I did the opposite. I'll protect you. If what we talked about downstairs was the truth, I'll protect you." You swallow. "Whether you want me to or not." You look into eachother's eyes for a long time. She wipes her eyes one final time and takes your hand. "We'll look after eachother." The tears start falling from your eyes as well, but she wipes them away and helps you up. "Come on. It is Christmas Day." "Danny's making pancakes." You're relieved by the opportunity to say something so very normal after the strangeness and sadness of the morning. "Well that's one food I know he can't screw up." she remarks as you both head downstairs. At the bottom of the stairwell, she catches your hand and pulls you close. "Merry Christmas." You kiss there in the hall, a long, lingering one that seems to last forever. "Uh, Ma?" Scout comes skidding into the hall. You can feel her take away a hand from your hair to wave him off. "Seriously Ma!" You grin against her and play up the kiss. You only start to realize something's wrong when Scout's protests begin to get angry. Both of you turn to look at him, and you feel your stomach drop into your shoes. Just over Scout's shoulder you see your own parents, both staring slack-jawed. You wonder if this is what respawn is like as you feel the edges of your vision start to go black and you don't remember a thing as the bottom step rushes up to meet you.
I like the rewrite much better! Can't wait for more.
Part 8 "Mom! Dad! I...I can explain!" you shout, but there's something wrong. As you sit up fully you realize what it is. You're in bed, her bed, you realize, clutching a pillow. "Bugger..." someone mutters, a male someone and unless Scout has developed an Australian accent and grown about a foot while you were out, that's definitely not anyone you know. Not bothering to wait around you launch the fluffy projectile at him and he catches it without a second thought. "Calm down," "SPY!" you are already throwing the covers back. "That's an insult." the unknown man drawls, with the very faintest smirk pushing you back to the bed. You let out a frustrated grunt. You've long learned not to fight, not even with skinny guys in fancy suits and certainly not men who slept with long range rifles beside their chair. "Now. The bloody Scoot's taking his mum out to the shops and to dinner. Said you wouldn't be waking up while I was still here." "Surprise." you deadpan. Your attempt at casual sarcasm quickly gives way to terror which you know you're too slow to mask. "So, Scout's not here." Mr. Tall doesn't seem to want to be there any more than you want him there. He's looking at you like you're a whole crowd of people unto yourself "I'll go downstairs for a bit." "Yeah. Guess you better." You pause, emotions rushing through you. The one thing you don't want right now is to be left on your own. "Wait. I'm going to come down. After I get dressed. For answers." "Suit yourself." You find yourself in the bathroom, splashing your face with cold water. You need a shower. She has all kinds of things in her bathroom: bubble baths and perfumes and makeup. You remember the first time you tried these out, Scout had told you that you looked like a whore. You select the plainest one you can find and take a quick, mostly tepid shower, running a comb through your hair and after a small amount of deliberation climbing back into what seem to be a pair of Scout's (or one of his brothers') loaned pajamas. You can't recall ever owning a pair with baseballs on them...or ones with a flap in the front made for....best not to think about that. The tall guy is slouched in an armchair, drinking a beer. You're about to make a comment about it being a little early for beer, but then notice the time and say nothing, so you decide you could use one for yourself and settle on the couch across from him. "How long have I been out?" He shrugs. "Four or five hours, give or take." "This is probably the first question I should have asked, but who the hell are you?" "Call me Sni--Callum." "Sniper it is." He lets out a sigh, his eyes darting around as if looking for a secret trap door he could just disappear into. You feel the same. "And...my parents?" Sniper's expression goes from socially awkward to soft and friendly so quickly you might have flicked a switch. "I'm sorry. Scout and his Mum say they tried to keep them here, but I'm afraid they weren't happy. They're done a bunk anyway an' you're...staying here. With Scout and his family from now on." They've disowned you and you don't even realize you're crying until you feel the couch sink down next to you. You've never been the type to cry on just anyone before and Sniper sits there beside you, which is probably enough. "Get involved with 2Fort and your home life goes down the shitter. Happens every time." he mutters to himself. You sit up after awhile, your sadness giving way to righteous anger. You pick up the rest of your beer and down it, wiping your mouth and your eyes at the same time. "Yeah? I didn't ask to get involved with TEW-FORT!" "Look Sheila. If anyone knows anything about this kind a stuff it's me." he says seriously. "I got a dad who treats me like I'm the kind of bloke who beats women to death with golf trophies and breaks into people's houses to steal televisions causea this job with BLU. Don't treat mum too keen either." You stare at him and he stares back. His patience annoys you at first but eventually you nod. "What...do you do?" "Hunt, like my job, do a little traveling. Get on with my life. Wait for BLU to pay me so I can get Mum outta there." You nod again. "That's....probably the best advice I've ever heard." The two of you spend the rest of the time in relative silence with the television going. He gets up to get himself another beer, brings you one as well. It goes back and forth like that. He likes watching Looney Tunes, or maybe that's all there is on. Maybe he thinks it'll make you laugh, but you find yourself re-evaluating your opinion of him. You think, perhaps you'll call him 'Callum' instead of 'Sniper' if he ever asks again. Maybe it's because Spy is the only one you've met from RED and maybe because you met Scout before you knew any of this, but none of the BLU team seems like the kind of bad people who would run around killing others all day over and over. Maybe the BLU Spy, but Dell was willing to help a near-perfect stranger and this Sniper is quiet, but rather warm. Scout's always made for a great friend. "Hey, what's...the rest of the team like?" You speak up. You notice your words are a little slurred but you pop the cap on your next beer anyway. Sniper glances at you with a surprised expression. "Ah, BLU?" he asks. "Yeah. What're they like?" "Scout's better at that than...uh, well. Solly's pretty excitable I guess, and Truckie's..." He was spared the problem by the distraction of the door opening and Scout bouncing down beside you. He glances at the collection of bottles, but seems to relax once he realizes you're not in tears. "Call the Doc, I think Demo's become a girl." You smirk a little lopsided at him. "Haven't had that much." You're at the point where you know you have and ought to be putting the bottle down. You still don't care and take another swig. "Hey Sniper. That's not how you tell it. You tellin' her about the team you gotta tell her the right way!" The Australian man took a long pull on his beer. "Fine by me yeh twitchy little bugger." Scout bounced up. "Well. See, Medic's a total pill. Like a total pill. Fuckin' loves Heavy though and he shouts at him nine hundred times a day Me too. Heavy dies as much as Medic shouts at him cause he always forgets. And Spy's fucking president of the RED Spy's fanclub but you know that sorry....and Demo wow. He's like crazy drunk all the time, but he really gives half a shit about us and makes better food than Ma. No offence Ma, but he makes this shit that's all meat and I think it has oats in it or something and it's so good!" You don't have the heart to tell Scout what Haggis is. She just laughs herself and gives him a shrug, seeming as pleasantly surprised as you are at the humanity of these people. "So there's also Py. Pyro. She's a girl. 'Cept no one can tell because she hates takin' off her suit. She's hot. Real hot. Then there's Solly. I like Solly. Soldier. He makes decisions. Like totally knows his shit. An' you know fuckin' Engie and Snipes now and shit. You nod and smile. Sniper clears his throat. "I hate to...well, they called." Scout's face falls and he looks at you. You shrug. Sniper frowns. "She was still knocked out. But, they want us all down at the base next morning. Scout takes off his cap and holds his mother's hand. She looks at you. "We will take care of eachother." The three of you embrace and you don't notice Sniper walking out.
I usually don't like Scout Ma stories, or Civilian stories, but I enjoyed this one enough to read through it all in one sitting. However, since this hasn't been updated in ages, I am going to go ahead and sage, since I don't think it's getting finished.