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fanciful-of-life · 5 years

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This Time

Buck sat in silence looking out the fire engine window with his hands folded in his lap and his head leaned back against the square headrest of the seat as buildings whizzed by and the sirens above blared, letting those in their path know to get out of the way, heading to yet another emergency. Bumping in the seat as each turn and pot hole is hit at high speed. Eddie sitting ramrod straight, staring straight ahead face passive . No words being spoken between them. Another shift, another day, of the cold shoulder.

He’s seeing Christopher every chance he can get now. Not realizing how much he missed the little boy’s smell, crooked smile and admiring gaze until that first yell of “Buck” and arms thrown around him. Eddie disappearing as soon as he got to their place, while they played and watched movies. Even building a lego firehouse. A Christopher version of a lego firehouse. He was just relieved when Christopher asked him what he thought the creation was and he answered correctly and that smile he received in return that if a heart had the ability to cry would have burst into an ocean far surpassing that of the tsunami they survived in tears.

Shame though stayed behind coursing through him as the nervousness finally subsided but the shame stayed as his little boy babbled on and on about how much he missed him, sleepovers he’s going on now and school. It wasn’t until that shame slammed into his gut of distancing himself from Christopher that he realized that yes he is indeed his little boy. Just like he was Christopher’s Buck.

Shame about Eddie’s dirty little secret.

How could he not know about that?

It’s been forty-three days since Bobby told him he was being reinstated, thirty-two days since his first day back to the 118 and twenty-eight days since he found out about Eddie and the fight club.

It was by accident, of course. Eddie hadn’t spoken a word to him, even when Bobby in his stern “Remember, my house my rules” greeted him at the lockers with the rest of the crew. Then with a slight smirk and a hug with what Bobby would never admit to as misty, watery eyes and an “oh, kid. What am I going to do with you?” The hugs had come in procession. Eddie had just walked off.

As promised Bobby did make him regret it with scut work duty, for a week. The Captain has softened since becoming a step dad. And become more forgiving. Athena had stayed out of it until she saw him one shift, slapped the back of his head and then hugged him. “Talk to your family before being an idiot again.” Were her words to him, then promptly invited him to dinner that night. Bobby opening his mouth and snapping it shut with one glance from Athena. They spent dinner calmly talking. Bobby feeling betrayed. Buck telling him he didn’t know the lawyer was going to use any of that. He thought he was just talking. Telling both Bobby and Athena about the lawyer telling him he should take the millions offered to him instead of listening to him and saying he just wanted his job back. Athena was still coughing after the wine she had spit out at the mention of Buck turning down millions to return to the 118. The lawyer trying to convince him they would never take him back.

He had missed the look between Bobby and Athena, the first of many that night. Never heard her “manipulative bastard.” Buck had explained he felt Bobby had lost faith in him and the hurt at finding out he lied to him instead of just telling him from the beginning that day in the hospital. About how it hurt to have the first man he felt had a positive influence on him, actually believe in him, lie to him was his breaking point. He might of even ended up telling him about his own father well after dinner was over. Athena slipping away to bed with tearful eyes. A kiss in the lips for Bobby, a kiss in the cheek for Buck as the two men kept talking. He had ended up spending the night at Bobby’s insistence, taking the guest room. Things had been different since then between the two. Yes, Bobby was still The Captain but if he treated Buck just a tiny bit different, gave him a bit more praise, nobody said anything. The fire fam had forgiven him. Christopher had forgiven him.

But not Eddie. And not himself.

So, of course Eddie wouldn’t tell him something like being in an illegal fight club as he threw down with strangers every night. It was when Buck got a phone call in the middle of the night from Carla. Christopher had spiked a fever and she couldn’t reach Eddie.

Buck had driven straight over, not taking any chances and with the help of Carla; saying fuck 911 drove him to the ER himself. Where he stayed with him, surprised to find out he was listed as a guardian in case of emergencies in Carla’s medical file on Christopher she keeps up to date. Maybe even intimidating a resident, ignoring flirting nurses and demanding a damn real doctor not some physician assistant.

Eddie had not been able to be reached all night.

Buck finally drove them home around 4a.m. after the doctor cleared him of any urgent medical conditions. It was just the simple flu. He didn’t care what it was. His boy was sick, that was urgent enough. Carla stayed in the car with a sleeping Christopher as Buck found a twenty-four hour pharmacy, waited then paid for the medication the doctor prescribed with instructions to call his pediatrician as soon as they opened if he got worse during the rest of the night. He had everything done to Christopher that night printed out on the spot to add to Carla’s records.

A frantic Eddie had stormed out of the house as soon as the headlights of Buck’s car entered the driveway. Ignoring Buck, Eddie picked up his son and walked into the house. In the rush to get to the Emergency Room Carla had forgotten her phone and hell would freeze over before he called Buck. They never spoke of it. Buck ended up calling Carla to see how Christopher was feeling and even stopping by after his shift to check in his boy. Maybe the oversized Teddy Bear he took him may have been too much but screw it, he owed the kid a teddy bear.

He owed the kid the world.

He even took him to Build-a-Bear as soon as he was cleared by his doctor to go out. Christopher just might have ended up making a bear dressed as a firefighter. Memories of him on the pier saying he wants to be a firefighter when he grows up went through Buck’s mind as Christopher proudly showed it to him. Knowing now what he should have known then, he would raise hell to get that kid on the LAFD, even as a Fire Marshall.

It was not being able to reach Eddie that made him curious, his gut telling him he needed to know. He may act on his emotions and impulsive at times but his gut instinct he always followed. So, on a night when Christopher was at his friend’s house for a sleep over Buck tailed Eddie home at a distance. Not like he didn’t know where the guy lived. He followed a bit closer as he came out of the house, got off the interstate onto some old dirt roads and came to a makeshift lot of disarray parked cars. Getting out he smelled the smoke before seeing the barrel fires lighting up the night sky. Old tires stacked up to make a circle. No, a ring. That had two men beating the living shit out each other in the middle of it. People crowded around, cheering them on as blood splattered onto the ground.

Then he heard the name Diaz being called. A shirtless Eddie stepping up to face another man. He was both disgusted and impressed with Eddie’s fighting capability.

He edged closer to the ring, making sure to stay hidden so Eddie couldn’t spot him, but he could get a better look at him. That’s when he saw it. Eddie’s eyes. The anger. The rage. The emotionless death in them.

Oh, Eddie. What are you doing and what have I done?

That was twenty-eight nights ago. He followed him every night, watching, praying to a God he wasn’t sure existed. His cell phone on in case of an emergency Carla might have with Christopher since his father was too busy being the idiot that only thought about himself he accused him of being in a grocery store forty-five days ago. According to Carla when asked it was around that time frame Eddie started paying her for extra night hours unless Christopher was at a sleep over. Which he was having more and more of.

Buck may not be on Eddie’s talking list but Eddie was on Buck’s watching over list. Every night, just to make sure nothing happened so Christopher wouldn’t lose a father along with a mother. Screw it. Who was he kidding? He felt the shame, the guilt. He wanted his team back so he fought for them but ended up losing a family he didn’t realize he had until it was too late.

Evan “The Ladies Man” Buckley is in love with Edmundo Diaz and it was staring him right in his blind as fuck face. Christopher right there tied with his daddy. He’d die for both of them and he went through hell every night watching Eddie taking his anger out with his fists. Wanting to but unable to run into that ring and yell stop this Eddie.

But the dead eyes as punch after punch kept him from doing so.

Arriving on scene of the accident, Bobby quickly gave out orders as they went to work. Eddie with the jaws of life and an I don’t need your help.

“Eddie, Buck’s on the jaws as you lift the car roof so Hen and Chimney can get to the little boy.”

It turned out the father ran a red light and the back where the little boy sat got slammed. As Hen and Chimney worked on the little boy Eddie went off on the father, Bobby and two rookie police officers holding him back as Athena put him in the back seat of her squad car. Unfortunately, the other driver didn’t see the car to stop in time, hitting them head on. They died on impact, the windshield slicing their throat as they flew through it, a teenage girl not wearing their seatbelt and texting.

Bobby telling Eddie to meet him in the office when they get back to the firehouse as they loaded the truck back up. Hen shaking her head at Bobby, signaling the boy didn’t make it. Eddie slamming his hand against the fire engine as they covered him with a sheet.

Buck could see the fire simmering in his eyes even though his face remained passive and blank on the ride back. Closing his eyes as he once again realized how much he missed Eddie’s smell. The smell of comfort, safety. Home.

As soon as they were back at the house, while the fire engine was backing into its spot, Eddie was opening the door and jumping out. As soon as the engine was cut Bobby followed calling after him.

Eddie kept ignoring him, pacing.

Taking a leap of faith and frankly tired of this shit, Buck walked up to him. Placing his hand on Eddie’s shoulder before the words are you okay could leave Buck’s mouth he found himself with a right hook square to the jaw. Fists flying at his face, chest, stomach as echoes of Bobby’s, Hen’s and Chimney’s shouts can be heard along with the sound of pounding footsteps and flesh.

Buck didn’t deflect one shot. All it took was one look into Eddie’s eyes. The emotionless dead eyes of the rage infected street fighter.

“It’s okay.” Buck kept saying as punches were landed. “It’s okay” as hands wrapped around his throat. “Eddie, It’s me, it’s okay” as he found himself flat on his back, slammed to the floor. “I’m me, it’s okay” Eddie straddling him after pushing Bobby off his back trying to get him off Buck.

“Eddie, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s Buck. It’s okay.”

He could hear Bobby yelling Eddie’s name.

“Eddie, it’s okay. It’s me. I love you. It’s okay.”

Suddenly, the punches stopped and a loud sob was heard. Buck picked his bloody body up from the floor, shaking his head no at Bobby and his team.

Kneeling in front of Eddie he caressed his cheek with the palm of his hand.

“It’s okay, baby. Let it out.” Bloody tears from the cuts on his face streamed down his own cheeks as he wrapped Eddie in his arms, lightly kissing his lips. “It’s okay. I’m here. I love you. I’m here. It’s okay.”

“No! You left me!” Eddie sobbed, burying his face into Bucks chest, wrapping his own arms around him.

“I’m here now.”

“Buck.”

“Not now Bobby.”

“We need to get you checked out and Eddie…”

“Eddie, needs help and you need to write me up.”

“Buck….” Bobby had his stern Captain voice starting. Hen and Chimney hung back, unsure of what to do.

“I fell disobeying a direct order from you.” Buck sat rocking Eddie, stroking his back. With a kiss to the top of his head he looked directly at Bobby, telling him he’d get the full story later with his eyes. “Eddie needs us and this time we’re doing it the right way, as a family.”

Nodding his head, Bobby gently placed his hand on Buck’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly before standing. “I’ll get a non-department trauma therapist on the phone. At least let Hen look at you, please. There’s a lot of blood and your head is still bleeding.” A sigh. “I thought it was you being impulsive in the field I had to worry about.” “Eddie needs looked at, too.” Taking a bloody hand in his, Buck brought it up to his lips kissing it.

“It’s okay. I love you. I’m here and I’m never leaving you again.”

Hen sat beside Buck, giving him a small smile as she gently patted at the cuts on his face. Placing a pressure bandage on his forehead.

Chimney sat quietly, glancing at Buck every now and then as he cleaned Eddie’s hands, his head rested against Buck’s chest.

Buck let out an accidental hiss and Eddie whimpered, burying his face back into Buck as Hen hit a particularly open wound.

The wounds were raw and deep but they would heal. It may be slow and take time.

But they would heal the right way.

This time Buck would make sure of it.

#make buddie happen #buddie #911 on fox #911fox #fox 911 #911 spoilers #9 1 1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #eddie x buck #buck x eddie

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phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 7 years

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solly/zhanna/miss p ideas

>They take turns cooking, Soldier is the best, Miss P can't cook for anything (bc she's lived off of like, sandwiches and whatever she could find at roadside cafes)

>Zhanna always makes meat dishes.

>Soldier enthusiastically introduces them as his lovely lieutenants, and once headbutted a man through a wall for daring to touch Miss P on the butt

>Zhanna usually kicks ass, but he was closer

>They love cuddles, but it took a bit for Miss P to get used to human contact again bc she was almost always Alone for her work

>Miss P gets kisses, esp. if the other two sense she's getting sad or withdrawn or anxious about the past... Solly goes for forehead or cheek, sometimes a brief kiss on the lips, affectionate but not anything more Zhanna covers her with kisses, and sometimes it leads to something more, but mostly she just ends up holding her through the moment.

>Zhanna's new prosthetic is as useful as the gunslinger, has a lot of attachments.

>All the raccoons are named, have a collar, and their own little beds. They treat them like children.

>Soldier occasionally wanders around naked, covered in honey... and the other two can usually be convinced to join in.

>Despite what people think, he';s very clever in some ways. Always knows when one of them needs to talk, or to have something... just shows up with a fluffy raccoon to pet or chocolate, or a hug. He's big on hugs.

>Zhanna and Soldier work out together, they enjoy it. Miss P loves watching them...

>Zhanna and Soldier tend to do it everywhere, especially now that Miss P doesn't get startled by flicking on the kitchen lightswitch at 2am to find them making a mess on the bench... Sometimes she lends a hand, sometimes she watches, mostly she just goes about her original task until they're done.

>When they first moved in together, Miss P had her own room. It still has a bed in it, just in case she wants time alone/space to think... Zhanna would visit her there, and Soldier would occasionally bring her things... until what was between them developed enough that she felt comfortable sharing their ridiculously large bed.

>They share a massive bed. Miss P is usually in the middle, with Soldier and Zhanna to either side as protective barriers. They feel she is safe, that way and Miss P has no objections... except that it was a pain to realise you had to pee early in the morning and your partners are wrapped around you like octopi.

>Generally, they pair off for bedroom activities... whether they're in the bedroom or not. Zhanna is most spontaneous, and will surprise them mid-task, but always checks for that they want it too... no is always an option. Soldier is a very empathetic man, and gets excited if the others are; though he does occasionally proposition the others first, or turn them down. He likes physical reminders that they are still there. Miss P is bolder, recently, and she chases down the person she wants to hold her, or bang. It depends on what she needs. They helped her vocalise her desires... bc at first, they assumed she just wasn't into that, as she never said anything -but eventually Soldier asked to clarify. And she was like, "Oh, I thought you two didn't want me like that?"

And thus the miscommunication was settled.

Miss P has had the opportunity to try things with Soldier, just to see how she feels. It doesn't disgust her or anything, and she loves him in a certain way; but it's not like with Zhanna. Though he is very skilled with his mouth, shockingly so, and offers her relief when Zhanna is away on business.

When the three are together, Zhanna is the middle point, the one moving between them. Certainly they might interact with each other around her, but not the same way as you'd expect. IT took a while to find something that worked, but they found it.

>Shopping is always An Experience(TM) with those two. Miss P tries to do it herself, but someone salways accompanies her... it's fun, don't get her wrong, but the reality is it takes three times longer with their 'help'. And they always get impulsive things.

>Miss P dislikes gardening, reminds her of all the graves she's dug, really. But she loves the flowers Soldier grows; Zhanna too, because flowers rarely grow in snow.

>They don't have to work, but occasionally take little missions all over the world. (Scout is regularly asked to babysit the raccoons, bc he's close enough to fly in for a week or so, and also he seems to have their respect. Miss P never wants to know how he won it). They are a unit to be dealt with.

>Heavy & Medic visit frequently, coming to see them and make certain all is well. Engie and the others swing by too, when they're in the area; not often for some of the more international members.

>Sometimes Miss P jolts awake at night, terrified this was a lie... but someone always shushes her, talks her through it.

>She originally fell into old habits. Barely sleeping, running on coffee, filling the boot of the car with quick-lime and a shovel for 'just in case'... the other two were horrified, and concerned. She'd fall asleep then jerk awake, shuffling off, some days... and it freaked them out a bit. Zhanna would take the coffee away, Soldier would wrap her up in a blanket, and one of them would carry her to the bedroom with its shut curtains. And they'd sit with her, as she mumble about needing to do some task or other, her tired mind trapped baack in the days of clipboards and checkmarks against chores...

Sometimes they'd stroke her hair or pat her back, Soldier tried to sing to her but he'd get too into it and get loud. The raccoons would nestle around her, and eventually she'd fall asleep. For a day or more. It was a concern. They'd greet her with food, having hidden the coffee.

It took a while to break the cycle.

>Zhanna still recalls killing Miss P, it haunts her sometimes, especially when she sees the woman look at her with love in her eyes. Reminds her how indifferent she had been in that moment...

Soldier always reminded her that it was okay, he'd poked her back to life! Miss P was STRONG and SMART and BEAUTIFUL like Zhanna and Soldier LOVED them!

She'd smile, and the feeling of guilt would fade... but it would return.

>Merasmus was a periodic hazard. Sometimes it would be a mass invasion on the household at certain times of year... othertimes you'd just randomly find him sipping coffee in your loungeroom, manically giggling as he read a house and garden magazine.

>Everything changed, however, the day that Zhanna realised she was pregnant. She called her brother to make his doktor-husband confirm it; Heavy came too (to make sure Medic didn't give her anything to make it a human-ape hybrid, bc he kept making concerning 'well i'll be a monkey's uncle!' jokes and Heavy was SUSPICIOUS).

Soldier was DELIGHTED!

Miss P was... happy for them, but definitely not herself upon hearing the news. Melancholy and withdrawn. Took them a bit to realise it, actually.

She thinks it changes everything, binds them closer together, and starts to plan for her future. They're confused when she said she was going to stay with a friend for a bit... but distracted.

She didn't have many, it was a bit hard to trust people when you were a mercenary and all. So she calls Spy, after checking into a hotel, and drunkenly sobs the situation down the phone...

He's mid-assassination but makes time for her. Always does. He kills the guy and is back in America within the day. The first thing he does is take away her wine and shove her into the shower, clothes and all, before turning on the water. Between them, he gets the mess of heartbroken Miss P out of her attire, washed (even does her hair), dried, and bundled into sleepwear.

She's asleep in minutes. His wife said that particular tactic had always worked with her boys (of which Scout was number 8), whether they were four and tantruming, through to adulthood. Never failed.

In the morning, he talks to her about the situation; and realises what's happening. He calls Scout to come and stay with her for a bit (he's closest, and over that blasted crush thankfully, though of all people why the BUSHMAN instead?), and the runner does. He talks about everything and nothing, distracting her, whilst Spy goes to speak to the other two.

Zhanna and Soldier are wandering about their town, searching, asking, trying to locate her. Spy collects them both, returning to their home to talk. He outlines that Miss P left because she felt she would no longer be part of this... triumvirate.

They're scandalised, having not realised Miss P would be anything but delighted over the prospect of THEIR baby...

Zhanna is 100% for kicking down the hotel door, and Soldier is right there with her, but Spy talks them into just calling first. It might be overwhelming to have them explode on her.

The phonecall is long, and emphatic, they tell her this changes nothing, except that she will be a mother too. If she wants. "Can be oddly sexy and close aunt, if you wish, little violet" Zhanna says off-hand, and Miss P laughs herself to tears on the other end of the line.

"I'm sorry... I was being silly" she sobs at them, but they hush her. IT was reasonable, if you thought the people you loved more than life were abandoning you... though she was wrong.

"Lieutenant, you have to tell your fellow officers if something's amiss in the ranks..." Soldier explained, and she promises to, if there's a next time.

They come to get her; Scout has 'helped' her pack (shoved everything in her bag haphazardly). And it's a little weird for everyone... Scout and Spy leave them to it, to do whatever it is their relatively new Father-Son bond allowed them to.

Miss P refuses to sleep in the middle that night, not elaborating why. Zhanna takes the position, and the other woman curls around her like a shield; fingers idly trailing across the slight bump, deep in thought. Soldier is to the other side, quietly watching them from under a mound of raccoons... he's excited, but can sense Miss P is doing something.

The other two have just about dozed off when she speaks. A quiet, "I'm sorry about this..." followed by a pause, and then, "...but I promise to make it up to you."

Just as one of them was going to reassure her that wasn't necessary, they realise she's not talking to them.

"You will be a good mother also, little violet..." Zhanna says, startling her. "This is your child too, da? You, and I and Soldier will be the best parents ever..."

"We have had good practice with the Privates here..." Soldier adds, gesturing to the raccoons.

"Da, the best. And they will learn from the best..." Zhanna assures, kissing Soldier, then turning to kiss Miss Pauling.

"...thank you, for letting me part of this too. I swear I'll... I'll peel the flesh off a man's face as he screams before I let anyone hurt the baby..." Miss P says, adamantly. And Zhanna laughs, amused and delighted.

"Have no doubt you would, little violet, but you are a part of us... as is the baby. We are a family, da? I am pleased you will share this with me." And she does.

Life grows slightly more complex as the baby grows; the house floods with so many items and gifts for the baby it's hard to move about. Soldier keeps bringing home cute onesies for the baby... and they almost always end up on the raccoons. Which is fine, they have heaps.

Lovemaking is different, chores are different. But not in a bad way. Zhanna finds the way they kiss the swell of hr belly, show attention to her ripening breasts, is adorable.

Soldier massages her back if it gets sore, and Miss P works on her legs when they ache. She was not sick, her mother never was, but the whole scenario does give her headaches sometimes. Medic offered something to help, which thankfully had no side effects.

Every ultrasound makes things a little more exciting, a little more nerve wracking.

And when it finally comes time, Zhanna has both Soldier and Miss P by her side. Supporting her as their child emerges, shrieking as loudly as her parents, into this world.

It is a relief to see the child after all this time. Soldier just about pulls a Lion King, to announce her to the world. Zhanna never tires of looking at her little face. Miss P was hesitant, until the little weight was put in her arms and she realised she would never, could never, abandon this infant.

Their child is raised with two mothers and a father. The first few weeks are made easier by this fact, as someone is always able to pick her up, feed her, bathe her, respond to her cries, etc. Even if they are exhausted by it.

By the time she is one, their daughter commands a legion of raccoons and the mercs have all practically worn allegiance to her. Though a few of their gifts had to be confiscated on the grounds that she might die if they exploded...

>She is two years old when Miss P finally confronts the other two about an idea she's had for some time now, worrying herself inside and out over how they would take it. Miss P speaks to them, says that she would like to bring their next child into the world, however possible. Not to tie them together or anything simply... it is something she wants to do.

They work out the logistics, Soldier is the father but exactly how that came to pass is their business alone... and the cycle begins over again; culminating in another infant, another raccoon-overlord in the household... and another child with two mothers, a father, a sister, eight mercenary uncles, and so many raccoon-siblings at this point who could count?

(Plus merasmus, who was like a great uncle- aunt- er, merasmus.)

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preciousrichard-blog · 7 years

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Second Thoughts, Second Chances (Sniper/Spy)

Chapter 8: Burnt Up

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9419246/chapters/22560905

Rating: Teen+

Chapter Summary: There’s a masked invader in Sniper’s home, touching all of his possessions and compromising his privacy. But for some reason, it feels alright.

He began enjoying mornings again now that he’d moved back into his camper. Ever since the birds had returned for the approaching spring, the barren winter mountains repossessed their picturesque life and light. Unfortunately, this particular morning, Sniper missed the silence as he cradled his dully aching head. He lumbered, swaying toward a small refrigeration unit on the floor once he’d slipped out of his lofty mattress over the cabin of the van. He muttered malcontented curses as he rummaged for a bottle of water and sat at the bench seat of his fold-out table to down it all. The night before affronted him with the tenderness of bruises that he’d collected from Spy’s perilous driving. He shook his head at the thought that he was now a local accessory to murder, but it was nothing new to him, and at least he wasn’t burying bodies this time. Granted, trouncing a crowd of drunken fools in a game of marks had been fun, but now he’d probably have to drink in the next town over.

Despite the minor inconveniences the Frenchman caused, Sniper smiled, appreciating the way Spy looked out for him even when they played sworn enemies at work. He could swear he still tasted the sweetness of the others tongue in his mouth while he affectionately reminisced of the way he’d restrained himself for Sniper’s sake; even drunk he really was one hell of a considerate man. Sniper honestly regretted being unwilling to appease him, as much as he really wanted to. He’d felt shamefully selfish when he’d returned to the privacy of his camper afterwards and recalled preceding events for his own carnal uses. Now it was morning, and the numb pain in his forehead persisted. Dehydrated and burdened, he wondered how the spy in question must have been doing that morning. He could only imagine how he was holding up having drunk twice as much as the sniper did. He ignored the taunting voice in his head calling himself a mother hen as he got up to make an extra strong pot of coffee; just in case the dramatic Frenchman paid a hung over visit to his position later and needed a pick-me-up.

He cursed when he found the coffee machine in the van simply wouldn’t turn on, it’d been on the fritz for weeks. He’d have to make a special trip to the base and he never really looked forward to those. Dressed and washed up, he stepped down from his doorway onto the cushy grass. At least the pleasant green of spring would console his aches until he got his hands on a medical kit in the battlements. He’d set up camp among the trees far enough away that even if he yelled at the top of his lungs no one would hear him, and that was just his minimum. When he’d reached the mess hall he was surprised to find everyone was gone. There was ample time left before the morning match, but while Sniper wondered where they’d run off to so early he couldn’t complain about the quiet. He set up the coffee maker and made a particularly strong batch for the BLU spy’s sake, but upon waiting decided that he’d investigate the strange disappearance of his teammates. He discovered the door of a weapon stock room was ajar and upon nearing it, heard familiar voices. He adjusted his glasses and slouch hat before walking in, feeling unwelcome when the entire RED team turned around to face him with expectant expressions in the dim light.

“Did I miss something?” Sniper asked awkwardly, curling his upper lip.

The engineer looked around to be sure no one else was stepping up to speak, then nodded, “Yer gonna wanna see this pardner.”

The others returned their attention to a soft glow that backlit their silhouettes and Sniper crept forward. Before the mercenaries was the lifeless body of a man in a dark suit and hat with a portable television strapped to his chest. Blood covered parts of the illuminated screen, obscuring the image of the Administrator that looked out disapprovingly at the lot of them. She seemed to eye the Sniper as he filtered through and frowned.

“How nice of you to join us.” She offered disinterestedly. Her analogue voice came out hollow from the speakers as she spoke, “As I was saying, due to the unfortunate circumstances, you will all be transferred to a new station at the foot of the mountains. Travel arrangements have already been made, and you are to take nothing but your personal belongings.”

Sniper knew there was no way she could be, but the harsh old woman almost seemed as though she was staring right at him. It unnerved him and made him wonder if this was about what he and Spy had done last night.

“Question.” Soldier blurted from among the nine. The Administrator gave an exasperated look and he continued, “Permission to bring Lieutenant Bites?”

“Who is…? Oh never mind, I don’t care.” She frowned in response, “Personal belongings only. Whatever you leave will be disposed of. You’ll be transferred within forty-eight hours, oh, and for the last time- stop killing my messengers.” She switched off the transmission with that grating command and the room went dark.

Immediately the complaints poured in, even if no one was shocked. It was nearing time to be transferred either way, and they'd been moved prematurely before. Almost everyone had one gripe or another about it though, and the scout in particular wouldn't stop complaining about leaving some poor girl in town that would likely be glad to see him go.

"What exactly was all that about?" Sniper asked the engineer as they funneled toward the dining area.

"What? You mean you didn't see the protestors?" Engie asked, shocked.

"Protestors?"

"That’s right, I reckon you’re campin’ too far out to hear ‘em. A whole heap of 'em are gathered outside the gates." The short man explained nervously, "They look mighty unhappy. Heard a merc was out in town'n killed a fella. Ya'll wouldn't know anything about that would ya?" Engie asked him innocently.

Sniper shook his head in response, there was no way Engie could have known the Aussie went out last night, "News to me, mate. Where is it they're sendin' us?"

"Down south. Some sort’a gravel quarry at the foot'a the mountains."

"Ain't it always a gravel quarry?" Sniper asked playfully, and Engie laughed.

Spy was having trouble getting his usual rhythm on the job that day. When he tried to sap and stab the RED engineer, he missed and was blown to bits by his sentry. When he disguised as the enemy pyro, he was caught by them and burnt to an awful crisp. That was his least favorite way to die. One might imagine respawn would clear his hangover, but since he'd absentmindedly clocked in with it that day he was left respawning with it every time he died. The system was finicky that way, and he'd have to wait until his shift was over to fix the problem. He'd tried to visit his dear sniper early on but as soon as he stepped foot through the door the Aussie had gotten his head blown clean off by his BLU counterpart. It got blood on Spy's suit, fantastic.

After a grueling day the spy had finally made time for one more visit, he'd regretted not only spoiling one of Sniper's few favorable places, but apparently causing the entire operation to relocate. He'd been overwhelmed with the feeling of foolishness and guilt since he heard the news. He took a flight of stairs up to the spot he'd seen the sniper last, and walked in on the Aussie holding a jar full of urine at the ready, aimed at the doorway.

"Mon Dieu please no!" Spy cried.

"Oh Spy, it's you. I thought you were that bloody BLU soldier back fer more." Sniper remarked, lowering his unsanitary weapon.

"Merde." Spy sighed, placing a hand on his chest, "If you had thrown that revolting thing I would have killed you."

"Heh, I don't doubt that." Sniper smiled, "You look better than I expected you would after last night."

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Rough day?"

"It is a challenge to get around when your team keeps leaving their corpses in my way."

"That ain't very polite of us is it?"

"Quite rude."

"Not all of us can die in a million bits from sentry fire like you can mate."

"You saw that." Spy sighed.

“Sure did.” Sniper laughed, sitting a moment longer before the look of recognition straightened his body and he slinked back from the railing. “Say, did ya hear the news?”

“The transfer? Yes, it seems our little skirmish has caused quite the controversy.”

“Our skirmish?” Sniper sneered, “Yer the one who killed him.”

“You invited me to drink.” Spy argued back nonchalantly.

“Yeah to drink, not get into trouble.”

“Such things are not mutually exclusive.” Spy retorted, and Sniper groaned. Spy approached him to rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “My only regret is that you can no longer visit a place you enjoyed. For that, I apologize.”

“Gah, I only liked it ‘cause it was close by.” He assured.

Spy looked around as he always did, and as he worked out the basic floor plan of the room he noted the glass pot of coffee still half full and cocked his head at it as Sniper returned to working. "You always finish your coffee." He observed.

He didn't notice the pink blooming on Sniper's face, "You're welcome to have some if you’re still feelin’ seedy."

Spy looked at the coffee pot, then down at the empty mug beside it. He thought for a spell and picked up the container, inspecting the scent of it. He eyed it curiously and picked up the cup. "Did you leave this for me on purpose?" He asked, pouring some out.

"What? No." Sniper defended.

"Did you?"

"No."

"Did you?"

"Shut up and drink yer bloody coffee piker."

Spy smiled and lifted the cup to his lips, "I normally detest cold coffee." He took a drink from Sniper's mug, "But this one is too good to pass up."

"Shut yer cake-hole." Sniper scoffed.

"It's exceptionally strong."

"Maybe that's how I like it."

"Merci beaucoup, Sniper." Spy sighed, leaning on the other softly.

Sniper mumbled something under his breath, and although Spy didn't know what he said, he chuckled regardless and sipped the cool black liquid. He felt warmth in his cheeks; that dirty outdoorsman certainly knew the way to Spy's heart, even if he was unhurried about it. How domestic, the Frenchman thought, almost as if we were not in the middle of a war zone.

"Sorry if it ain't sweet enough, I don't much care for sugar." Sniper mumbled looking through his lens.

"Oh Bushman please, any more of that and I'll be forced to pull you into another storeroom." Spy sighed, putting down an empty cup and lighting a cigarette.

Sniper swallowed hard, his felt his pulse skip, "What's with you and dark cramped spaces?"

"I forget your natural habitat is a wide open field to graze upon."

"Oi."

Spy chuckled, "That van of yours is dark and cramped non?"

"It's compact." Sniper grumbled.

"May I see it?"

"What?" Sniper turned his head.

"May I see your van?"

"I thought you hated my camper."

"I have nothing against it personally. It's simply not to my tastes."

"So why d'ya wanna see it?"

"Because it is yours."

Sniper was shocked to say the least. He remained shocked even when he agreed to Spy's visit, and even when he came back to his camper after work. He found himself cleaning up for the first time in a while, sorting out his meager belongings and putting away scattered kitchenware and mail. He didn't feel much like himself scrubbing down the stovetop and sink. He felt more like his mother when they were expecting guests back at the house. No one had come to actually see his living space since he'd bought the damn thing. He wasn't a terribly messy person but he wasn't very fickle either. He hoped the smell of soap would air out before he got there.

When Spy arrived that evening he knocked on the door, and Sniper opened it, and they said hello, and it was all so extraordinarily normal. Sniper let him inside and was relieved to see Spy neither grimaced nor recoiled in disgust. Spy was, in actuality, pleasantly surprised. The interior was mostly wood - although Sniper didn't seem to bother polishing it - a vinyl floor with some repeating gray patterns, fixed lighting in the ceiling and red upholstery. It was a far cry from the tribal animal skin decor Spy half expected, and even came off as quaint. Spy looked around as Sniper fiddled with his fingers apprehensively. He didn't know why he cared so much about what the spy thought, but for some reason he couldn't help but want to appease him. It must have been that overpowering presence again.

Spy smiled at Sniper, and he arched his eyebrows in return. "It's much larger on the interior." Spy marveled.

"Uh yeah, s'pose it is. Enough fer me anyway." Sniper scratched at the side of his nose.

"Tidy as well."

"What'd you expect? That I live like some sort’a animal?"

"I did not know what to expect."

"Well, there you are. Nothin' fancy."

"It's charming." Spy commented genuinely, walking further in to inspect the table, counters, and bed. "Mon Dieu," he gasped as he stepped up a rung on a short ladder to look at the mattress, "how do those legs of yours fit in there?"

Sniper felt highly scrutinized if not a little self-conscious about his long legs. He hadn't really known what to anticipate from the spy, but now that he was looking in to every little thing as spies always do, it was getting harder to keep his cool. "It's bigger than it looks." He offered. "Oi what are you doing?"

Spy was gingerly climbing up into the very personal space the sniper slept in nearly every night, among other things. He pursued but stopped short of the bedside, sighing as the Frenchman was already lying back in his sheets. For someone who held manners in such high regard he sure was quick to forget them when he wanted. Spy folded his arms up behind his head in the pillows and crossed his legs, making himself far more comfortable than he ought to.

"You were right, it's far more spacious than it appears." Spy smiled at him, turning to face the other who disapprovingly shook his head.

"You've made yourself right at bloody home haven't ya? Ya mongrel."

Spy smirked at him, and looked around the space once more before dipping his neck to inhale into the pillows. Sniper tensed and floundered. "What are you bloody doing now?" He gasped, mortified that the man was literally sniffing the bedding the slept and occasionally sweat on.

"It smells like you." Spy hummed, letting his body relax into the bed.

Sniper grew red, "Is that a bad thing?"

"Non." Spy smiled, letting his eyes lull closed.

"What does “me” smell like?" Sniper asked quietly, leaning against the mattress with his arms as he stood on the ladder.

"You."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Everyone has a scent, Bushman."

"I guess... But, it ain’t bad right?"

Spy opened his eyes and laughed, making Sniper even more flustered than he was. "Not at all you silly kangaroo." He said as he edged up to Sniper's face and tenderly kissed his forehead. Clearly he caught on to the self-consciousness.

Sniper frowned and stepped back, "Whatever you say." He blushed, "But get down from there would ya?" And Spy obliged.

Sniper told him to stay put as he stepped outside before it got dark. He was gone for all of three minutes before coming back to Spy at the table flipping through an album of photos he'd somehow found in that time.

"You nosey little bugger!" Sniper snapped, "I leave for a bloody minute and you've already gone through my things!"

"You were quite the scrappy young boy." Spy smiled, ignoring his irritation, "These are your parents?"

Sniper dragged his palm down his face, groaning and surrendering once again to Spy having his way. The snooping snake had already seen the pictures now; there was no use in hiding them. "They're my folks yeah." He admitted, sitting beside the other as the spy made room for him.

"How sweet, I see your crooked smile hasn't changed." Spy mused and Sniper rolled his eyes. He turned the page. "What a shaggy head of hair- Good Lord, is that a buck?"

"Yeah... First one I shot all on me own."

"You don't look more than ten years old here. Your father taught you I presume?"

"That's right, the old man taught me everything I know. The rest was practice." Sniper smiled fondly.

The spy flipped through most of the black and white images of trophies and family outings rather quickly, smiling without realizing Sniper was watching every expression he made. They'd discuss the occasional interesting snapshot, and Sniper recalled each story to the best of his abilities. But near the back, as the pictures of the sniper showed him progressively getting older, photos of two different recurring girls beside him appeared on a single page.

“Girlfriends?” Spy asked, trying not to snicker.

Sniper fidgeted, moving to grab the album but Spy pulled it away before he could. “That’s enough-“ He struggled, but Spy held the book away from him and peeked closer.

“Good Lord! They have mustaches!” He screeched.

“Gimme that bloody thing- Aussie sheilas all look like that! It was secondary school!” He stammered, pushing into the Spy then reaching over the table. The playful jostling caused a loose photograph to flutter from the pages.

"Who is this?" He asked, letting the other snatch the album away. Spy picked up the image of Sniper and another young man with their arms around each other’s shoulders looking no older than twenty.

Sniper leaned over curiously, but his face dropped when he saw the content of the image. "Oh..." He responded flatly, "Nobody. Not too sure why that's still in there."

Spy immediately picked up on the change of mood, "You had a falling out?" He asked, more interested.

"You could say that."

"Perhaps an old lover?"

Sniper's heart stung, "No." He said gravely. He looked over to find the piercing x-ray eyes of the Spy digging into him. He fidgeted. "He was just... A mate." He continued.

"But you are not now."

"He's not too fond of me's all."

"Why is that?"

"Oh for God's sake why are you so bleedin' meddlesome?" Sniper snapped angrily, and Spy's hand froze. They went silent, and Sniper looked away.

Spy released the picture to settle limply against the table and the air went thick. "That was impolite of me. I apologize." He said with a tone of professionalism.

"No- no." Sniper interrupted, exasperated, "I've never told anyone's all, I don't mean to be a wanka." He exhaled and rested his elbows on the table, putting his face in his hands. "We were good mates, best mates...” He mumbled, and Spy watched attentively. “We did everything together. Campin’, nickin’ cigarettes, sneakin’ out with girls even though I wasn’t keen on ‘em.”

“It sounds as though he was a dear friend.” Spy consoled.

“Then I went n' fell for him.” Sniper grimaced, and Spy blinked in surprise. “Things started makin’ sense after that. But once we finished school he was gonna move away.” He sighed and slowly lifted his face to look distantly at nothing with weary eyes. “I needed to kiss him just once before he left, y’know? Just one time." He sighed heavily, "But he socked me right in the eye, called me a bloody queer n' I never heard from him again." Spy cringed, “He cut me off just like that, like I was nothin’ after that. I was lucky he didn't go n' tell my parents."

"Sniper-"

"Put me right off ever tryin' that nonsense again."

"Sniper..."

"As if I didn’t like people enough before that."

"Sniper."

"What?" He turned his head languidly, sapped of all his energy, and then Spy kissed him.

He closed his eyes, the warmth washing away all of the memories and replacing them with the subtle smell of cigarettes and the feel of leathery gloves on his neck. Like a curative, he felt Spy cleanse him of the bitterness and cold of his thoughts. They parted with a dewy smack, and Sniper took in the masked man, in awe of his restorative touch.

"Some things are best left in the past." Spy comforted him softly as he adjusted the collar of his red shirt, and Sniper felt more at home then than he had in a long while.

They put the album away, and stepped outside together as darkness fell over the forest. Sniper lit a fire, and sat flush beside the other on a dry fallen log disposed of when the complex had been in use. He held Spy's hand when Spy gave him the picture of himself and the boy, and he squeezed his fingers when he tossed it into the flames. Spy wrapped an arm around him when it burned away to ashes that dispersed into the cool spring air, and as the dying orange embers mingled amongst the stars, the spy really understood why the sniper was so fond of the outdoors. Sniper rested his head against Spy's shoulder while he told him stories about the craziest trips he'd ever experienced. Spy held him firmly about the waist while he offered back descriptions of beautiful exotic locations he'd been to. When the night fully took hold, Spy had convinced the Aussie to play him something on his saxophone, to which Spy applauded, dazzled by the smooth jazzy melodies that echoed into the firs and pines. When at last the blue departed, Sniper grabbed him before he stepped away. With wanting eyes he pulled him in with the strength of a captivated man to kiss him again. Spy left smiling, and Sniper went to bed that night feeling indisputably whole.

The move to a new base was always tiresome, as the mercs were expected to do their own packing and carrying. It would take them a few days to settle in to the new fortress of machinery, rubble and rocks. Sniper had it easiest, as pretty much everything he owned was already on wheels. The new complex was enormous, with some very nice long sight lines by the looks of it. It had two bases connected by tracks, which could only mean BLU would be delivering payloads to the RED side of the map for the next few months. But at least it meant he would only have to defend rather than capture any points, which was half of the work. The takeaway was that he'd be doing a lot more moving around.

It was the first match on the new site and RED was already losing. They hadn't anticipated the payload to be an unstoppable train, and more than one of Sniper's teammates had blundered because of it. Although the time Scout became wedged between a wall and the cart, then blown to bits by a stray grenade was a little amusing. Sniper had been stabbed thrice by the supremely confident BLU spy already, and the fourth time he heard the decloaking hiss of his watch he was ready with his kukri in hand. He swung around, knife splitting through the air, cutting just short of the BLU spy's tie. Sniper stilled seeing the man's palms up before him in a peaceful surrender and slouched.

"Ya can't just kill me all day then surrender before I can get my revenge." He groaned, sloppily sheathing the oversized blade.

"Do forgive me, I will give you a chance to shoot me when I go." He smiled, "If you can guess the path of an invisible man."

Sniper snorted and grabbed his rifle, holding it by the grip and adjusting his brown fur felt hat. "I'll take that as a challenge."

Spy chuckled at him, but it was a strange sound. He brushed it off and took aim down his scope, he found the windows in the buildings there all had thin glass easily broken with the stock of his gun. He felt hands touch his sides and he jerked, fumbling with the weapon.

"What the-?" He turned, and Spy was pressing into him now, arms snaking around the other from behind, "What is it?"

"You've been standing every time I've stabbed you, why don't you sit down." Spy smiled, and Sniper side eyed him suspiciously.

"What's this all about? Are you distractin' me on purpose?" He cocked a brow.

"Not for my team's sake." Spy smiled, and Sniper shook his head.

"I get a free shot on ya if I sit."

"Deal.

"While you're visible."

"Merde. Fine, deal."

With that the Sniper sighed and plopped down on a stack of wooden boxes. Spy raised his chin at him and lifted the hat from his head, setting it down and stepping around to his back. "Today is Friday." He reminded casually, gripping the Sniper's shoulders and squeezing.

Sniper wriggled under the pressure and furrowed his brow, "Uh, yeah. We're off tomorrow."

Spy began digging his thumbs into the muscle of Sniper's upper back, "You could use a break Bushman," he curled back at the pleasant sting of Spy's hands, "the tension in your shoulders is astounding."

Sniper groaned reflexively, and winced as Spy worked his fingers deep into the tight muscle of his arms and neck. "Now I know you want something." He grumbled, allowing every relaxing push.

"Who, moi?" Spy chimed innocently.

"Nah the bloody floorboards." Sniper quipped and felt a warm kiss on the shell of his ear. Spy pulled back the collar of his vest and peppered kisses along the hot skin there as his fingers massaged along his shoulder blades. It was becoming clear Spy was starved for attention. "We're workin' Spook." He mumbled, face going warm under the onslaught.

"Not for much longer." Spy breathed, releasing his grip on the other to slide his hands down his sides. The marksman shivered.

"This is hardly the place to-"

"I know. I wouldn't." Spy whispered and Sniper could hear his grin.

He felt heat overwhelm him when Spy dragged his palms up both of his thighs, and he was just about to stop everything when the other slipped away, leaving him cold. "What was that all about-" he swung his hand up in confusion, but Spy took hold of it instead. Sniper narrowed his eyes and furrowed when the Frenchman bowed and planted a kiss right on the dusty palm of his hand. "Uh..."

"Au revoir." He smiled and vanished before explaining anything.

Sniper sat stupidly, unsure of just what had happened. He looked down at his palm, and found a paper there. When did he...? Sniper thought, and picked the little blue note up to read it.

"I promised you a bed. I will be waiting for you here tonight. ❤ 3790 Bear Paw Road Granville King Hotel Room 104"

Sniper's stomach sank; it seemed Spy was starved for more than just attention. He could suddenly feel a hot burn in every place Spy had touched him. The warmth of his lips lingered on his palm and neck as he looked back out of the shattered windowpane. There was Spy, disguised as the sniper himself, casually waiting down below. He stiffly lifted his rifle. They could say what they wanted about that sneaky ratbag, but he was a gentleman of his word in every way. Sniper charged up his sights, and shot him fatally in the heart.

#tf2 #sniperspy #sniper/spy #down undercover #Team Fortress 2 #fanfiction #now its off to finalize chapter 9

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