Chapter Text
Hanging up in his little nest, Sniper had absolutely 0 cares in the world right then. He had his gun, a nice spot to sit, his thermos, and a couple of jars just in case… oh, also a brownie he stole from the company fridge. Was he a thief? Not usually. Did that pan have a name on it? No, so technically speaking, it was for the whole team. Most of the team was smart enough to put names on their food if they really wanted to make sure it was still there when they got back to it, but apparently not all of them. Scout was an overconfident bastard who’d threaten to beat the hell out of whoever stole his food, and yet he never put a name on it and he never once beat anybody for anything. All bark, no bite, like a little terrier. He stole from Scout extra for it. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Sniper looked over at the clock hanging from the wall. Almost noon, his target would be here shortly. Before he forgot, Sniper swiped the brownie from the napkin he wrapped it in and stuffed the whole piece into his mouth, nearly spitting it right back out at the foul taste in his mouth. He paused, chewed a bit, then decided to swallow it anyway. He’d eaten worse. It tasted odd, though, like something familiar… He didn’t have time to dwell, his target would be passing by in just a few moments..
BANG!
Boom, busted. Sniper snickered quietly to himself and shuffled out of the way of the window to avoid being spotted, twisting the cap off his thermos and taking a swig of coffee. Now would probably be a good time to clean off his kukri and take a little break, his back was starting to ache from how long he’d been sitting there. Closing the thermos back up and setting it aside, Sniper grabbed his kukri and then pulled a rag out of his back pocket to scrub off any half-dried blood that had begun to crust onto the blade. Humming softly, he worked at the kukri until it was about as clean as it would get, and he set it to his left in case someone magically broke in. He doubted it, nobody even knew he was up there. It was either safe or sorry, though, so he kept his guard up. Shuffling his long legs into a better position, Sniper slid his gun into his lap and began to inspect it for any damage or dirt. He cared about the gun probably a little more than he should’ve, but he would rather be paranoid about checking it than be dead from having the thing misfire and explode in his face. After setting his gun back in his lap, he suddenly felt odd. Like, really odd. Everything was starting to feel hazy, and things were starting to look a little fuzzy. He felt lighter. Sliding his tongue around in his mouth uncomfortably, he mumbled to himself,
“What the bloody hell did I eat.. Was it even something I ate?”
A small pause. Then his expression dropped.
“Aw, piss. I recognize that taste now.”
Slumping his shoulders, Sniper smacked his lips distastefully at the bleak realization that he’d just drugged himself with a brownie. Great. Now he was high. High Snipers can’t shoot people because they’re too bloody busy being HIGH. He’d have preferred his next high to have been in the safety of the barracks with a blunt or a bong or SOMETHING that was worth getting high with. Well, no use in complaining now. Sighing, Sniper pathetically slumped against the wooden wall with a grunt and pulled off his hat to slam on the hay bale next to him. Then he heard it. The soft shuffling of footsteps and the scent of nicotine gently permeating through the room. He’d have chalked it up to their Spy coming to scare him, but this one smelled different. The cologne was spicier, more cinnamon toned than their Spy. Sniper slumped even further, grumbling to himself before speaking up.
“Get outta here, spook. What’s with you and sneakin’ around me of all people?? Filthy fuggin’ mongrel, that’s what you are.”
“Monsieur, that is no way to speak to me. After all, I very well could have killed you ages ago. Is it so bad for a gentleman to observe?”
Sniper could hear that Spy was smiling. It pissed him off. Sitting up and being hit in the face with nausea, Sniper rested his forearms on his thighs with a sad little noise.
“If you’re gonna be here, make yerself useful. Got any water?”
He asked softly from his hunched over position. He heard Spy uncloak and step forward, and then a smooth leather glove settled under his jaw to lift his face up.
“Open your mouth.”
Gay. Sniper mumbled something inaudible and swatted Spy’s hand away, grabbing the bottle of water that was soon presented to him. Taking a small sip, he let out another soft breath before looking back up at Spy’s face. He looked roguish and handsome as ever, cigarette sat between his lips, and Sniper stared a little longer than he should’ve. Why? Because he liked handsome men, that’s why.
“You’re much gentler than our Spy. Less pissy. So, you gonna kill me now or what? I’ll even turn around so you can do what you do best, you backstabbing bloody snake.”
Sniper started cracking up at his own joke, even letting out a little snort in the midst of his giggling.
“Non, I will not. Sure, perhaps our Scout or our Soldier would have killed you without a second thought, but I would never kick a man that I had not already taken down myself. I respect the enemy much more than you would think, cher Sniper. Besides, what is war without a bit of mingling between teams…”
Sniper had slowly ceased his giggling, instead sitting up straighter and taking a large gulp of water before speaking. He looked red in the face, and he noticed Spy smirking at him. Fuck, he wasn’t into guys like that, ESPECIALLY not Spy! He liked handsome men, sure, but he liked a nice woman all the same. No shame in taking a peek.
“Don’t do that French shit with me, Spy. I’ll take my kukri and shove it up yer’ bloody arse! That little pansy butter knife ain’t a real weapon, and you ain’t a real man!”
He grunted defensively, trying his damndest to seem as straight as possible in front of this prissy French fruitcake. Spy stopped smiling, and instead raised an eyebrow. He then shifted his weight from one foot to the other so he could drop his cigarette on the ground and snuff it out, strutting forward in that stupid formal way he did until he was right in front of Sniper. The proximity was making him uncomfortable and that bastard knew it. Spies were good at using mind games against the enemy, and that’s exactly why Sniper DESPISED them. He craned his neck to look up at Spy, and he was met with a soft, almost hurt look.
“Why do you say that? Is it because I’m not as wide or muscular as the other mercenaries, perhaps because I’m better at being stealthy than being a brute… or perhaps it's because of my sexuality? You see, mister Mundy, I’ve had many partners, some men and some women…”
Spy was slowly walking around the room now, hands clasped behind his back as he spoke.
“... And I find that it makes me no less of a man to know how to please both. Perhaps you should learn, monsieur, that it’s no shame to love.”
He turned his head, and then his body, standing beside Sniper like a hawk watching a mouse scurrying through the undergrowth. Sniper was slack jawed, red in the face and high out of his mind. If he had a little less self control, he’d have- oh, he was reaching for Spy anyway. Alright.
“I’m not ashamed of nuthin’, you… pissin’ bastard…”
Sniper insulted weakly, gripping the bottom of Spy’s tailcoat tightly. Spy let out a soft chuckle and reached down to fix Sniper’s sunglasses, which were falling down his nose. Sniper sat there for about three minutes staring blankly at Spy, eyes wide. When Spy finally cleared his throat awkwardly, Sniper leaned away a bit with a noise of irritation.
“What? If you’re here I'm gonna look at you!”
He grunted loudly, his face growing redder than Spy assumed was possible. Spy smiled and pulled out his cigarette case, taking a ciggy out of it and slipping it back into his pocket.
“Light this for me, mon cher. My lighter is in my back pocket.”
Spy asked quietly, hooking his thumb into the waistband of his pants to settle the cigarette between his fingers directly in front of Sniper’s face. There were definitely some erotic undertones to that. Sniper let go of Spy’s tailcoat to reach back and grab two handfuls of the Frenchman's ass with all the grace of a drunken bear. Spy let out a little ‘oh my’, but stayed quiet while Sniper fumbled around in his back pockets until he finally retrieved the aforementioned lighter. He grabbed Spy’s wrist and flicked the lighter a few times before it finally lit, and he lit the cigarette with a triumphant ‘heh’ after. Focusing on that apparently took a bit out of him, however, because after letting go of him Sniper nearly fell backwards. Spy caught him by the hair, just barely, and yanked him forward again. Sniper let out a soft grunt and grabbed onto Spy’s thighs.
“Bloody hell, and I said you were gentler than our Spy..”
Spy brought his cigarette to his lips and took a drag, blowing the smoke out into Sniper’s face and carding his gloved fingers through the other man’s hair.
“I can be as rough as I need to be when the time calls for it. Roses have thorns, you know.”
“Stop saying poetic nonsense! I can’t figure out a bloody thing you’re saying!”
Sniper watched Spy crouch down in front of him, and he felt that hand in his hair tighten to pull his face forward.
“Then perhaps I will not speak.”
“Woah, woah, hey now. I’m not letting you kiss me with yer’ dick-sucking cigarette stained lips!”
Spy just gave him a small, devious look before leaning forward anyway and pressing a quick kiss to Sniper’s lips. When he let go and stood up, Sniper was sputtering in theatrical disgust, using both hands to wipe down his face with an angry growl.
“Au revoir, Sniper.”
Spy cooed, stepping back and shimmering out of sight. Sniper sat there for a few seconds after that, slack-jawed and looking stupid. When he finally gathered himself, he fixed his glasses on his nose and grabbed his hat. It was about time he got out of this building anyway. By the time he stumbled back into their base, Scout and Demo were cackling like hyenas over progressively louder and less comprehensible jokes. They had that blasted pan of brownies between them. Sniper attempted to trudge past to go nap off his recently procured headache, but was stopped by Scout calling after him.
“HEY MICKEY, DIDJA HAVE FUN WITH MARY??”
Demo and Scout exploded into their next fit of laughter, and the other mercenaries all started chuckling at the joke. Sniper just muttered a curse under his breath and headed off to the parking lot.