Work Text:
One bomb situation. An everyday, normal, bomb situation, defending it like it was just another day at the office. On arrival, your team walked in like it was nothing, jokingly reminding each other to check your damn corners. Comfort is dangerous, you remind yourself. It’s where mistakes happen. You have to be on, alert; in this field of work there are no second chances. One cocky dash into a new room or a prime position could turn a solid victory into a heartbreaking defeat. A lost comrade or celebratory drinks.
Bandit is not the serious type. He takes a lot of pride in his work, yes, but serious wouldn’t typically describe him.
Somehow he always manages to talk to you, to get you wrapped up in his annoying adorable anecdotes or pulling you in to sit as the GSG9 table for food. He’s open and warm to most, but isn’t without his fair share of problems. You can see it behind his eyes.
You, on the other hand, take your job very, very seriously. Getting here by the skin of your teeth and now being constantly thrust into life-or-death situations? It feels necessary.
Securing your final reinforcements in place, you study the room and it’s possible entrance points. Bandit is around setting up his shock wire. Your teammates are placing signal jammers, traps, stuns. Jäger cracks a joke and Bandit snorts. You stop yourself from smiling.
You have a really bad feeling about this.
You shuffle into cover behind a desk and pull out your phone to check the camera feeds. Nothing is up long enough for you to gather any information from, and you cannot get a clear idea of even where they’re coming from. Not even from the pattern of the cameras being shot out. You gulp, and you request for your team to be careful over the comms. Staring at Bandit, you wish for everyone to come home safe. Thankfully your team decide to anchor themselves down to the bomb sites. A roamer would get shot down instantly, you gather. And then, silence. Long, suspenseful silence.
Footsteps on the stairs alerts everyone in the area. A simple trap downs one, you hear a faint cry from the hallway. You tense around your gun, intensely staring down the scope. A drone gets shocked by Bandit’s wire near you, and you readjust your grip. A barrage of bullets blasts through the wall close to you. Jäger is forced from his position, but you hold your ground, determined.
Bandit is fidgeting. He is not concentrating.
You manage to at least, maybe, get one member of the opposition before rotating around the room. More bullets.
Screaming. A teammate is gone.
They’re breaching the walls now, the ones you reinforced yourself. You back into Bandit and you scowl. A passing bullet grazes you, not enough to do real damage but enough for you to notice. Bandit seems to as well, and he scrambles back. You lie as close to the floor as possible as a sharp beeping starts.
It’s fine, you say. You have Bandit. There’s two of them left! Jäger did his job well, and this is an easy job.
It’s an easy job.
A grenade gets tossed your way, towards Bandit, towards the table he’d turned on its side for cover. You pull him up and run behind the reinforced wall behind you.
You shove him a little.
“Pull yourself the fuck together, Bandit!” You lift your visor. “We have a minute to neutralise two whole soldiers and disable the defuser. Please, please, do your job!” I can’t lose you , the back of your mind shouts. He made you open up to his close teammates, made you spend time with people, made you less lonely. Slamming the visor down again, you peek your corner to nail an enemy in the head. You try not to think about that too much.
One more, you think.
You travel towards the beeping, hoping to stealthily defuse whilst Bandit does his damn job and defend you.
The air is forced from your lungs suddenly as someone tackles you from behind. You’re pushed against the ground face first, arm twisted painfully behind you, your primary being forced from your grip. Where the fuck is Bandit, you think. The butt of the attackers gun comes down on the exposed part of your face. It hits your brow bone, hard enough for it to bleed. You need Bandit. Where is he? Wasn’t he covering you? Isn’t that unspoken, hasn’t it always been unspoken to cover your team no matter what?
“Where is he?” The attacker on you asked
“I don’t know!” You shout above all the noise.
A sharp slash on your twisted arm.
Your open hand reaches towards your holstered pistol.
“I said, WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?” The knife is held too close to you. You craft your plan.
“I WISH I KNEW!”
Your free elbow thrusts up, hitting your adversary in the jaw, pulling your pistol free with it. It stuns them enough for you to free your other arm, giving them a sharp shove and getting on your feet as soon as possible.
Thwack. They’re out like a light when the butt of their gun hits the side of their head. You scramble for the defuser, dragging your primary weapon along to use to hit it. Your dominant arm feels weak and hurts like a bitch, so you use all the force you have to crush the plastic box.
The beeping stops.
You apprehend your attacker and call for evac. Bandit stands from the reinforced cover you scolded him by.
He didn’t cover you at all.
Furious, you storm over to him, throwing your visor up in a rage.
“What the hell were you doing there? Huh? I almost fucking died and you sat here twiddling your thumbs.” You jabbed your finger into his armoured chest. He stares at the bleeding wound in your arm.
“I... I don’t know what happened, I’m sorry.” He looks sheepish but won’t meet your eyes.
“Look at me.” He looks. He sees the bruise slowly forming on your brow bone, the gash slowly leaking blood down your face. “You got too comfortable, and it threw you off. We lost a teammate. I almost died. And you would’ve too if I didn’t drag you around like a lost puppy. I get that you’re reckless or unafraid or whatever but there’s people here that need you.”
He stares. You think of how lonely you’d be without his meddling. How sad you’d be without him. You soften, the accusing finger on his chest becoming a gentle hand against him.
“I need you, Bandit. I can’t have you dying on the field because you’re used to this job. This is no place for comfort.” He nods solemnly.
“I have a lot on my mind. It is no excuse. I am really, so very sorry. It won’t happen again.”
He looks like he hasn’t slept well in a while. You notice this now, after the adrenalin starts to die down, and you thump your helmeted head against his chest tiredly.
You get patched up on the journey back to base, a quiet Bandit sticking close to you whilst the medic does his work. As if he wanted to protect you but didn’t know how. You’re so very exhausted, but you need to get to the bottom of Bandit’s issues. Tapping him lightly and pulling him from his thoughts, you ask him to visit your dorm when you arrive back.
You cared for him deeply, after all. It was what you wanted, almost what you needed, to do.
You change, and so does he, and he meets you in your room less than twenty minutes later. He looks so tired.
You sit on the bed, backs against the wall, and you share each other’s space, silently. Slowly, you lean your head against his shoulder, and he slowly rests his own on you.
Talking can happen in the morning. For now, you both sleep.