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No. 127
Every repost is a repost repost. By Nyx.

--

Nothing beat the flavor of a good cigar. Soldier leaned back in his chair and savored the deep earthen taste of the Cuban he was puffing on, his booted feet kicked up on his desk. Spy could keep his nancy-boy french cigarettes. A good Cuban was almost better than sex. Almost.

It had been a hell of a day. BLU had been on top of their game, and his men had been dragged through the mud. Quite literally. It had pissed down rain all damned day, adding insult to injury. Sniper hadn't been able to hit the broadside of a barn, Spy had returned empty handed and with a broken nose. Pryo's flames had been fair useless in the damp, and both Engi and Scout had dragged in looking like drowned rats. And ye gods, he didn't even want to think about how Heavy had looked stumbling back into base.... like so much ground meat. It was a wonder the man had even been able to stand, much less walk. At least they had all come home, and were now safe.

Soldier rubbed his eyes with one hand. He was so damned tired. As ranking officer, it was his job to make sure that his troops were taken care of, that things ran smoothly. And things were not running smoothly at all. There was a pile of paperwork a mile high on his desk, and supplies were running low. They'd had some concoction that Pryo had called 'stew' for the last three nights running, and ammo was getting scarce. Today's miseries only added to the mounting tension he was feeling. Most of the REDs had no idea how bad things were getting. But that was how it was supposed to be. His burden, no one else's.

Though Spy, the sneaky bastard, probably had his little fingers into everything and knew the gist of their situation. Or at least suspected.

Sucking on the soggy, ragged end of the cigar, Soldier reflected that at least none of his men were showing signs of dissension or surliness. They all had each other, which in this god forsaken place, was something. Even behind closed doors, he knew what was going on and who was shacking up with whom. Most of them thought they were so careful with their dalliances, but Soldier kept tabs on everybody. It was just another part of his job. If it didn't hurt anybody, and kept them going even in tough times, who was he to say anything?

Sniper and Spy routinely kept company in Sniper's roost. Heavy and Medic... well, everyone knew about them. The huge Russian who was such a monster on the battlefield, was an equally compassionate partner, and hardly left Medic's side in base. It was surprising how soft-spoken and gentle the man could be. Scout, so young and exuberant, kept Engi's fire going. And Pyro.... well. Sniper had come to him several weeks back, clearly unsettled. But ever the good soldier, he'd revealed overseeing Pryo dragging off a poor unconscious BLU Spy behind some cover. Apparently he'd not come out for awhile, and Sniper was beginning to think that perhaps it had been a ruse and their Pryo had been knifed. But just as he was getting ready to call over the comm that they'd lost him, he'd reappeared, with a definite swagger in his step. Soldier had raised an eye at that, but just cautioned Sniper to keep an eye on Pyro's back on the field, and his mouth shut. The firebug was strange enough as it was. He grimaced, remembering how it felt to look into the blank windows of Pyro's mask. Creepy, definitely.

As for himself.... well now. He took a deep taste of the cigar, then blew lazy smoke rings. Even the man in charge needed something now and then. He leaned forward, dropping his feet to the floor, and stood. Soldier mashed his cigar into the ash tray, and stretched, feeling and hearing joints and muscles popping and clicking. He certainly wasn't getting any younger. There were streaks of grey through his hair, and his face had become weathered from being outside so much, with crow's feet at the corners of his bright blue eyes. Damp mornings, like this one, made his joints just ever so slightly stiff. This war was a young man's game, and he was no longer a young man.

His jacket was hung on a hook by his desk, his helmet over the jacket. Dressed in his fatigues, boots and a cotton shirt, he left his office and meandered slowly through the base, his hands at his back. He took his time, stopping in each of the public areas to flick a glance over them for anything out of the ordinary. Everything neat, orderly and clean. As any good base should be. He paused at the doors to the showers, aware of the sound of running water and muffled voices. With a faint smile he continued on past. Spy was notorious for ambushing Sniper there. Actually, he was notorious for ambushing everyone in there. Only once had he tried it with Soldier. A faint chuckle trailed him down the hall as he remembered how he'd sent the prissy Frenchman across the room, with a black eye and a threat that next time he'd find his butterfly knife in an uncomfortable place.

As he passed the Infirmary, he glanced inside to see Medic at his desk, no doubt filling out injury reports. The German looked up and caught his eye, giving a faint nod. Soldier moved on. Doc would be there later. Good.

Finally he reached his destination. His demeanor as cool and professional as ever, he knocked once and then pushed the door open. A momentary flutter in his stomach gave him pause, but he swiftly suppressed it, shutting the door gently behind him. The room's occupant looked up from where he sat at his worktable, his single eye glittering in the lamplight. He was shirtless, sweating slightly as he worked on his delicate instruments of death. Soldier stepped into the room further and then stopped, looking at his demoman with calm eyes.

Demo laid down his tools and stood, approaching his lieutenant. As Soldier stood stiffly, the Scotsman circled him slowly, scrutinizing. When he returned to the front of the other man, he met his gaze again and held it for a moment. The GI met his eye unflinchingly. Demo's lips twitched ever so faintly. Lightning fast, he grasped the other man's jaw in his fingers, his grip bruising. Soldier held perfectly still, though his heart started to beat faster.

"Strip." The Scott stepped back, releasing his hold and turned toward the bench. Abruptly he stopped, glancing back at Soldier. "All of it." His voice was smooth, none of his usual drunken slurring present. Soldier knew most of the time it was an exaggeration on the explosive expert's part. Easier to fool enemies if they thought he was a stinking drunk. Friends too, for that matter.

Moving with military precision, Soldier walked to Demo's bed and removed his clothing, folding each piece neatly before laying it on a chair. His boots were placed precisely in front of the chair, dead even, socks rolled and placed inside. His skin raised in goosebumps against the colder air, and yes, in anticipation for what was to come. He tread slowly to the other side of the room, where a few leather straps were cleverly hidden amongst Demo's tools and such. He faced away from the center of the room, leaning forward ever so slightly to rest his hands on the wall, above and away from him. Momentarily, he felt gentle fingers securing the straps around his wrists, and he breathed out slowly, resting his head against the smooth wood.

The first blow took him by surprise. It always did. Sharp and stinging, pain spread across his shoulders and he couldn't stop his muscles from jumping in reaction. He suppressed the hiss though. Already the litany of "I will not break" was tumbling over and over through his head. The second crack across his back, this time lower, sent him up onto the balls of his feet. "I will not break!"

The blows came faster and faster, with no chance for him to recover in between. He gritted his teeth, pulling on the straps in reflex. The pain was like a slowly building fire, and there was no escape from it. Everything was disappearing in the face of this pain, all the frustrations, worries, anger and depression of the useless war they fought. The pain drove it out relentlessly, until it was all there was in his life. He bit his lip in a futile effort to suppress his cries until his lip bled.

A particularly brutal blow across the muscles of his calves did him in, and he cried out, head thrown back. A few more across his buttocks and backs of his thighs broke him completely and he howled, sagging into the bonds. All his control, all that made him the man he was, was gone. Tears slid down his cheeks unheeded. His arms ached dully through the fire that was his back.

It took him a few moments to realize the whip had stopped its relentless torment. Helplessly, he let out a soft sob, pressing into the wall. Those gentle hands that had bound him into his punishment now removed the straps, that were slick with sweat. Arms encircled him carefully and turned him, leading him across the room, supporting him as he sagged. He was guided face down on the bed and he turned his face to the wall, breath shuddering. Something cool touched his back, and he jumped, his skin twitching in reaction. Gently, ever so gently, something was smoothed across the welts and cuts on his back, ass and legs. The fire began to recede, and in its place came a calm drifting warmth. His breathing slowed and evened out, and as the hands massaged and soothed, he started to slip into an exhausted doze.

And then a hand paused, resting on the swell of one buttock. Soldier's eyes fluttered and with a roar that left him breathless, another fire leapt to life. He was suddenly being turned, his welts rubbing painfully against the roughness of the blanket on the bed. Trivial, in the face of this new need. Demo's mouth was suddenly on his, and he made a muffled noise of need as he tried to devour the other man. His lip stung where he had bit it, and as their tongues slid eagerly against each other, he tasted blood and whiskey. If anything, his blood grew hotter.

The Scotsman climbed onto him, pressing hard against Soldier. Vaguely, he was aware the other was as naked as he, and just as aroused. His cock was throbbing painfully, trapped between the two, and he felt Demo's like a branding iron against his belly. The pain of his back rubbing against the blanket added a sweet harmony to the pleasure. With a guttural noise, he ground his hips up against the other man. Demo answered by pressing back, hips pumping. Wetness spread between them, their cocks sliding easily against flesh and both men sped up, a desperate edge to the noises they made. Soldier's heart was thundering in his chest, and he grabbed the Scott's ass, pulling him hard against him. He had one more edge to go over, and it was approaching so fast. God, so close! With a loud cry, Demo's back arched and he threw his head up as he came, his cock spasming against his lieutenant's stomach. Soldier let out a hoarse cry, no longer able to hold back and shuddered underneath the other, stomach muscles twitching as he added to the hot, sticky mess between them. The explosive expert collapsed on top of Soldier, his heartbeat fluttering against Soldier's chest like a trapped bird.

They lay like this for awhile, neither saying anything, both catching their breath and just... savoring everything. Then, Demo got up, tossing a rag to Soldier, and cleaning himself up as well. Neatly, the GI wiped up the mess, and discarded the rag, before climbing slowly and carefully to his feet. With slow movements, he pulled his clothes on, hissing as the shirt rubbed against welts. He felt like he'd been swimming through a hurricane. He was exhausted, and utterly relaxed. If he had been any moreso, he would have been a puddle of jelly.

Boots on, he straightened and looked at his demoman. The black Scott looked back, just as obviously exhausted. Soldier's mask of his station was slipping back into place. "Sergeant," he murmured softly with a nod. Demo returned his nod. "Sir." What might have been a smile quirked the corner of his mouth. Giving another nod, Soldier turned and opened the door, stepping outside. He stood for a moment, breathing the cool damp air that was blowing in from an open window. Then he closed the door and walked down the hall.

Medic was where he had left him, though he was no longer filling out papers. He looked tired, and ready to join Heavy in bed. Soldier immediately took a seat on a bed and began removing his shirt. The German tsked and made other unhappy noises as he examined Soldier's back. A touch or two sent him wincing and hissing. "You are too rough. Zees are bad." But he healed him anyways, and he knew the medic would keep his mouth shut as well. Only a few moments ministrations, and he was able to put his shirt back on and head to bed. Medic looked at him. "Let it go for a few days, ja?" Soldier nodded and turned to leave. "Thanks, Doc."

Paperwork could wait for the morning. Only someone who knew what to look for could see that he was about ready to collapse from pleasurable exhaustion. Arms resting behind him, he paced the length of their home to his quarters, opened the door and slipped inside. Wavering, he made sure to remove and carefully fold his clothing, before crawling under the scratchy low grade blankets they were issued. He was asleep in seconds. And he slept the rest of the night like that, deep and dreamless.

The cigar, in all its wonderful aroma and flavor, just couldn't give him that.
Marked for deletion (old)
>> No. 128
Soldier was very, very angry. That much was painfully apparent as he paced back and forth at his end of the War Room's conference table. The Old Man was practically foaming at the mouth as he dressed down the entire team, treating them as if they were nothing more than mere privates. Demo sat at his end of the table, watching silently as he occasionally took a sip from the bottle that rarely left his side.

The situation was bad. Spy had not returned for two days and they could find no sign of him. With Spy's disappearance coupled with the fact RED had been utterly unsuccessful in getting their hands on the enemy intelligence in weeks, the Soldier had finally reached the end of his rope, taking his bitter aggression out on his team. He called them every name in the book, and when those ran out, made up some more. He pointed out each and every mistake they made, sneering in contempt as he did so. There was no end to the man's rage and disappointment.

When he rounded on Scout in mid-rant, Demo inwardly winced. He knew what was coming. The kid had been less than serious in the last battle, goofing off with BLU's own Scout in a half-hearted game of tag. Or so it had appeared to the rest of the team. At the moment, he was barely paying attention to Soldier's tirade, bouncing in his seat as if he'd just snorted a half dozen pixie sticks. When his superior barked his name, the lithe runner went as still as a statue, eyes wide.

“If I see you fucking around out there with the BLU scout one more time, I'm going to shove my rocket launcher so far up your bony ass you taste gunpowder!” Soldier leaned menacingly into the kid's face. “Do I make myself clear, maggot?” With an audible gulp, Scout nodded. As The Old man turned away, Demo saw Engineer's hand breach the gap between him and the boy and give his leg a reassuring squeeze.

Finally spent, Soldier glared at them all for a moment.

"Dismissed," he snarled before stalking from the room without so much as a backward glance.

Silence descended on the room as the REDs looked at each other in helpless embarrassment. Eventually, like dogs with their tails tucked between their legs, they scattered to their corners of the base to recover from the verbal lashing. Demo watched as Engi guided the deeply shaken Scout from the room, his face still pale and grim from Soldier's abuse. Demo knew the kid would be fine in a few hours, the soft spoken southerner, without any doubt, would have the boy back to his bouncy self in no time.

Demo began to tread slowly down the hall, mulling over the situation as he headed in the direction of the Soldier's quarters. It wasn't unusual for the Old Man to lose his composure and ream them out.

Hell, it was sort of his job.

But with his incredibly nasty demeanor seeming to elevate with every passing failure, Demo suspected things were only going to get worse if Soldier's behavior continued to go unchallenged. He worried that if the situation kept on it's current course, someone was going to get hurt. Sighing heavily as he reached his destination, he finalized the decision to confront the older man when he rapped once on the door to alert the Lieutenant of his presence, entering quickly before he could be told to piss off. He knew it would be better if he tried to speak to the irate man himself, as he felt he had more of a chance of getting through to him than any one else on the team.

Soldier never glanced up, his posture stiff and angry as he flipped through paperwork. His cigar was gripped so hard in his teeth that Demo was surprised the damn thing hadn't fallen apart from the abuse. Setting his bottle on the desk gingerly, he flopped casually into the chair opposite Soldier's desk before picking it up again. He took a swig as he sat, savoring the warm flavor of the whiskey before beginning.

"Bit hard on the lad, weren't ye?" He took another tentative sip before continuing. "Bit hard on all of em, really, don't ye think?"

When Soldier looked up to meet his eye, he could /feel/ the self-righteous anger emanating from him.

"Them?" Soldier spat the word. "When were /you/ not a part of 'them'? If I recall, you have a role in this outfit as much as the rest," He sucked viciously on his Cuban, eyes daring his sergeant to disagree before he resumed. "Last I checked, you haven't come waltzing in with the enemy's intelligence lately."

"Neither have you, laddie." Demo collected and calm with his retort.

Soldier's jaw muscles danced as he clenched his teeth even harder, a vein in his temple visibly throbbing. With a roar, he surged to his feet.

"Get the hell out of my office, you one-eyed, haggis-eating, drunken son-of-a-bitch!" he screamed as he rounded the desk, heading for the door, no doubt intending to open it to expedite Demo's retreat.

He never made it that far.

The black Scotsman had risen to his feet at the insult, and as Soldier passed he grabbed the other man and swung him around to deliver a vicious right hook to his mouth. While the older man was stunned from the blow, he turned him and shoved him hard against the desk, wrenching his arms up behind him. Moving with an efficiency that would normally have left his lieutenant impressed, he removed his own belt and wrapped it securely around Soldier's arms from wrist to elbow. Bent forward, his upper body now resting upon his own desk, the Old Man was effectively immobilized. Demo shook his arm out, flexing the hand that had connected with Soldier's jaw.

Bastard had a hard face.

Snarling, Soldier spat blood out onto his desk, head craning to look back at his subordinate with hatred in his eyes.

"What /in the fuck/ do you think you're doing?"

Demo couldn't help the grin that split his dark face. Now, wasn't this a picture? Without answering, he grabbed the man's hips, yanking him back enough so that he could reach his belt to undo it. The second his hands touched the buckle, Soldier's whole body jerked in defiance. He swore, trying to buck the other man off with little success. In reaction to the frantic motions supplied by the man underneath him, Demo swiftly grabbed his bound arms and pulled /up/, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain from the lieutenant. The Scot knew all too well that a strained agony would be screaming through the man's shoulders, and he found himself wondering silently if the older man was seeing stars when his desperate movements came to an abrupt halt. Keeping his arms elevated, he leaned down bringing his face close to the other's.

"I'd stop strugglin' if I were ye, or I'll keep pullin' up. And ye know what'll happen. Dislocated shoulders are a whore, mate," A tiny push up, and Soldier was gasping again. "Might want to keep the noise down, too. Don' want the others knowin' what's what. Got me?"

The older man choked out a faint affirmative, his head drooping back on the table when Demo finally eased up on his abused limbs. Sufficiently convinced that Soldier wouldn't fight him now, Demo quickly undid his belt, sliding it from around his waist and placing it on the desk next to him. When he reached back for the zipper, he discovered the man's arousal. Ignoring his Superior's excitement, the explosive expert began to work at undoing the Old Man's pants and slid them down, underwear with them. Soldier swore viciously.

Stepping back, Demo admired his handiwork. The entire situation had been completely unplanned, but damn if he wasn't enjoying himself. This went far beyond the arrangement the two men had, and he knew full well that his actions were not just a response to Soldier's ugly dissonant behavior. He had been craving more than the Solider was willing to give for some time, but never had the initiative to push the situation until now. While he knew that it was likely Soldier would discharge him and would probably retaliate in a much more drastic and violent manner after everything was said and done, it did little to deter himself.

Demo knew that he deeply needed this.

Stepped forward, the Scot kicked the other man's legs a bit wider, the older man involuntarily leaning forward to keep his balance which made his ass was stick out more. The added humiliation of the change of position caused the older man to hiss out a bold and bitter threat, confirming the Scot's earlier prediction of future consequences.

"I'm going to kill you when this is over."

Demo grabbed his bottle, taking a long swallow from it. His chest and belly warmed pleasantly as he replaced it on the desk, to take up the belt. He doubled it up, snapping it a few times for effect, the Soldier responding to the noise with a long harsh growl. Without mercy or warning Demo struck, an immediate red welt rising on the other man's pale buttocks gaining a hard startled gasp from Soldier's mouth as his whole body jerked. Demo could not help but smile as the man underneath seemingly had no desire in fighting to be silent this time around. A few more blows added companion marks to the first before he paused for a second so he could remove his vest and shirt. He was just warming up.

He doubled his efforts once he found a more comfortable position. His renewed assault on the increasingly reddening ass of his superior officer causing the Soldier's legs to flex with each blow and long hard strangled cries to pour forth accompanied with the cruel slap of leather on flesh.

Demo lost himself in the repeated motions of swinging the belt. He always did. It warmed up his entire body, loosened every muscle and allowed him to drift from himself. It was cathartic. Though the belt was heavier in his hand than the whip, it some how felt good with the added weight behind it. And with all the pained and strangled noises Soldier made, Demo's pants were quickly becoming uncomfortable.

By the time the belt finally drew blood, Soldier was sagging on his legs; his muscles visibly trembling. He was /whimpering/; the sound completely new to Demo's ears. His desire increased tenfold. There was no gentleness about him when he stepped forward to removed the belt from around the Old Man's arms. He tossed it across the room, allowing Soldier to lower his strained limbs to the desk with a ragged groan. Pressing down between the man's shoulders with one arm, he quickly undid his pants with the other, freeing himself . He knew his lieutenant was far too exhausted from pain to even try and escape, but bent mouth to his ear again in quiet warning.

"Don't move, or I'll put that belt back on," he threatened.

The second his hard length pressed against the ass he'd so recently abused, Soldier's body stiffened. He knew what was coming even though they had never before crossed that boundary. As far as Demo knew, Soldier never had in his life.

"Fuck you." choked the Soldier; the once collected, professional officer was now completely gone, a thoroughly defeated man in his place.

He spat into his hand and grabbed his cock, gathering as much of his own pre-cum as he could before proceeding. Demo slid his slick hand between Soldier's buttocks, rubbing at his very center. The other man shuddered, swearing weakly as fingers worked quickly into him, giving no pause for him to catch his breath. Demo's blood was roaring through him as a desperation filled him that almost left him feeling weak. He needed to finish what he'd started, and with haste. Satisfied that Soldier was as prepared as he could make him without the aid of actual lube, he returned his hand to his own cock, smoothing more moisture that had collected in his arousal, and guided the tip to the other man's opening. He pushed forward relentlessly, a horrible noise escaping Soldier's lips in response to the motion.

"Christ's sake, stop!" The man beneath him panted frantically, so tight in his panic that it made Demo himself wince in discomfort.

"Let me..." he paused to take a shaky breath, his voice trembling as he spoke. "Let me get used to this."

Soldier's surrender to the situation left Demo light-headed as he stopped his assault. He was almost completely buried within his lieutenant, his body screamed for movement as he contained his arousal while the other man adjusted. Beyond satisfying his own needs, some part of him desperately wanted Soldier to enjoy being claimed. Dark hands touched Soldier's shoulders and began slow gentle movements that were common and familiar as Demo often used them after a session with the whip. Bit by bit, the other man relaxed around him.

Slowly, the Scotsman ground his hips, the action making Soldier's body tense up once again. It took a little time, but gradually his reluctant lover began to relax, the muscles loosing as Demo kept the slow, gentle pace going. Good god, this was the best thing he'd ever felt in his life, he thought to himself, as impatience began to get the better of him. He hardly registered his own hands that some how found their way to the Old Man's hips where they clutched in earnest as he slowly increased his tempo. He listened with hitched breath as the noises of pain that had been coming from Soldier changed in pitch, his stifled moans starting to take on an edge of pleasure. Placing one hand on Soldier's lower back, Demo reached beneath him and grabbed the other man's cock which caused Soldier to release a deep throaty moan that could have rendered anyone's knees weak with desire. Demo closed his eye in the wake of the Soldier's sound of rapture, his jaw tight and clenched as his cock throbbed in excited response.

He was going to lose control, and soon.

Soldier's breath was heaving, his cock unbelievably hard in Demo's hand as he pumped it. Relentlessly, he drove him onward, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh loud in the room as he worked. Soldier raised up on his arms, back arching, and Demo bent further over him, his forehead resting against the back of the Soldier's head, their sounds of pleasure in sync with the lurid movements of Demo's hips and hand. It was becoming too much to bare, his breath growing increasingly erratic. He was having difficultly containing the rhythm going on the other man's erection as he felt his pleasure beginning to peak.

He felt it seconds before Soldier let out a choked curse, the man's muscles going tight around him and his cock starting to throb. Hot, sticky fluid spilled from his superior, covering his hand and the front of the desk where it lazily trickled to the floor. Both the sensation of the tensing body around his member and the loud shaking shout had finished him; his own orgasm hitting him hard. A hoarse cry passed his lips as his body shuddered and he emptied himself inside Soldier. The pleasure was so intense his vision grayed out for a moment and he collapsed on top of the other man, gulping air as he recovered from his crest.

Hours seemed to pass before Demo finally pulled off Soldier, staggering a little as he did so. His need to comfort hit him like a hammer blow, and with a returning gentleness that belied his earlier actions, he cleaned them both up. Soldier's ass looked like raw meat, the fevered flesh discolored into a sickly red. At the sight of it, the explosive expert felt a moment of sympathy for the man; Demo was certain there was no possibility that he would be able to sit until he was treated. Supporting him, he led the Old Man into his bedroom, helping him down onto his stomach. He'd already removed Soldier's pants and his boots before he laid him down. After he slid a blanket up over his broken lover's backside and legs, he quickly set his own clothing back in order as well.

Demo sat in the chair next to the bed, bottle in hand, the silence of the room making the uncertainty flutter in his stomach viciously. He took a drink, then offered it to Soldier who grasped it in his hand eagerly. He brought the heavy bottle to his lips and took a deep swallow before passing it back, his sharp blue eyes boring into Demo's brown one during the silent exchange.

"What the hell /was/ that?" He spoke softly, voice hoarse from their earlier exertions.

Demo shook his head, choosing to remain silent. He was becoming terrified that the Old Man would send him away, or hell, even worse, turn his back on him. With a sigh, Soldier closed his eyes.

"I'd like to be alone now," he murmured.

An oddly heavy feeling in his chest, Demo stood and headed from the room. He paused in the doorway.

"I'll send in the Doc."

And then he left.

----

That night, at dinner, Soldier stood before his team and stiffly apologized to the rest of RED. He confessed that the boys upstairs had been leaning heavily on him, chewing into him for an explanation as to why they hadn't done their jobs yet. He went on to say that he was proud of his men, and explained to his small squad that his fear that they would be replaced had gotten the better of him, making him act in a highly unprofessional manner. The REDs looked at him like he'd sprouted nine heads as they sat dumbfounded while absorbing their commander's moving speech, but they slowly began to accepted his apology, each in in their own way. Demo caught Soldier's eye and raised his bottle to him and in silence, the lieutenant nodded in acknowledgment.

Later, Demo saw Soldier pull aside Scout for a more private discussion. The kid looked serious, but relieved afterwards.

----

The next morning, their prayers were answered when the Spy dragged himself home beaten, bloody and pissed as hell. The information he gave them proved to be more than worth his poor physical condition as it allowed for the swift and immediate capture of BLU's intelligence during the next scheduled skirmish. As they retreated to their base, Demo laying down a cover of sticky bombs and shouting slurred obscenities at the enemy, he caught the Old Man looking at him. He broke out in a shit-eating grin, and Soldier responded with a quirk to his mouth and a hearty salute.
>> No. 1511
why has no one commented on how awesome this fucking is?
>> No. 1512
Because there are tons of kickass threads lurking behind all the new stuff. Like this one.
>> No. 4864
I don't know, but I truly enjoyed this one...The whole thing. Interactions and stuff.


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