Chapter Text
Sniper wasn’t good with people. This was something everyone around the RED base knew. A recluse who spent most of his down time alone, in the RV he called a home surely couldn’t be a people person, nor could he interact with them well. He had no idea how to start a conversation, couldn’t keep one going to save his life, and he was utterly pathetic at any form of small talk.
Knowing this, the rest of the REDs never really attempted to talk with him. They would prefer to go on with their lives, chatting amongst their little groups with ease instead of engaging the man who stuck to the wall like a flower on wallpaper. Sniper would always sit on the sidelines during meals, never engaging in conversation, preferring to busy himself with cleaning his guns and knives. No one ever made an attempt to talk to him, and he never attempted to talk to anyone. Sniper figured that was okay. They had their routine, Sniper had his. He was used to silence.
But then the boy started talking with him.
One day, while he had been sitting in his nest popping heads without a care in the world, his team’s Scout jogged up the stairs, plopping himself down on some crates nearby, talking amiably with Sniper, as if they had been long-time friends and this wasn’t the first time they had talked. Sniper checked numerous times, making sure the kid smiling and chatting incessantly wasn’t the enemy Spy. He wasn’t. It was the RED Scout for sure. The kid went on for minutes on end, asking Sniper questions and telling Sniper stories. Sniper hardly knew what to do, How to react. Suddenly, his customary silence was broken, and in came this loud, obnoxious kid with a strange accent. Sniper hummed when he assumed it was appropriate, a real word never leaving his mouth. Then, as if it had never happened, Scout said a quick goodbye, hopping back down the stairs. Sniper saw him through his scope, bashing in the skull of the BLU Demoman with ease.
After that days matches the Scout talked with him again. He sat next to Sniper and talked with him at dinner. He told him a story before Sniper went out to go to his camper for the night. He waved goodbye until Sniper couldn’t see him anymore, arriving at his little home-on-wheels parked far away from the base.
It was odd. It was way out of Sniper’s comfort zone. Suddenly, there was this chatty, bratty kid that suddenly started acting as if they were close friends. At first, Sniper was dumbfounded, confused at the mere prospect that this kid would spend time with him and talk with him at all.
Maybe it was a ruse. Maybe the team had thought of him as a joke, decided to send in Scout to try and befriend him before revealing that it was all some sick practical joke. Maybe the kid was just bored and talking at Sniper seemed like a decent way to kill time. Maybe it was a one-time thing because no one else would accept the Scout’s non stop chatter.
Probably not.
Bullet landed softly on his roof with a small coo. The only thing he could talk with easily was this little owl, a friendly little bird that took a liking to Sniper very quickly while he was sitting by his fire one night. It cooed again, louder this time.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Coo!”
“I’m just thinkin’. The Scout came up and talked with me in my nest today. Was real weird.”
Silence.
“I dunno what he’s up to. Hope it’s somethin’ good. It prolly isnt, though. He’s a crafty lil’ son of a bitch sometimes.”
A quiet huff.
Sniper fell asleep that night after he had worn out his brain, wondering why the kid would suddenly be so warm and welcoming.
---
It happened the day after that. And the day after that. Scout would come up to Sniper’s nest, jovially talking with him before running back down to battle and resuming his position on the frontlines. Sniper would respond one word at a time, barely even providing adequate conversation for the kid. Scout didn’t seem to mind, though, continuing the conversation easily even without Sniper’s input. Scout would even sit down next to Sniper at meals, either sitting in silence as he ate or laughing loudly and gesturing animatedly with his fork about the day’s battles. The kid even helped Sniper with his inability to talk, suggesting ways to help the man whenever he believes he has nothing left to say.
Sniper asked the kid one day why he came up here to talk with him, why he would come up and talk to a man who barely even talked back. Scout’s amiable smile dropped, and his energetic tone evaporated into something more calm, more serious.
“Because.” A pause. Scout crossed his arms in thought. “You seemed lonely, yanno? Like, you were always there, eating dinner with us and coming to team meetings with us. But you always sat alone, never talking to nobody, always actin’ like a shadow stuck to a wall. An’ everyone else just acted like that was fine. An’ for a while, I figured maybe it was. You didn’t seem like a talkative guy. But everyone deserves a friend. And since no one else wanted to try, I figured I should.”
Sniper had no words, stunned into silence. He turned around to face the Scout, taking his eye away from his scope. He even removed his aviators to look at Scout without any barriers. No one had ever tried to be friends with him, and he figured that was okay. He thought he could live the rest of his life in solitude, and that would be okay. The kid, who sat atop his crate, shrugged when Sniper looked at him. Sniper felt a single word slip past his lips.
“Why?”
“Hmm?”
“Why did you? Try, I mean.”
Scout paused again, looking at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact with the Sniper. “No one deserves to be alone.” His tone was sober, real. So unlike anything Sniper had ever heard from the Scout.
They sat in silence, the sounds of battle distant from their little bird’s nest high in the sky. Sniper put his aviators back on slowly, turning away from the Scout, pivoting on his chair to focus outside the window. As he put the scope back up to his eye, he mumbled something quietly under his breath, so quiet he’s amazed the Scout even heard.
“Thank you.”
Scout replied even quieter, his tone tinted with a smile. “No problem.”
---
That day, something changed. Scout would still come up to Sniper’s nest and talk. But Sniper would reply to his questions in full sentences, would make his own effort into the conversation. Scout would laugh at his bad jokes and Sniper would laugh at the kid’s stories and antics. It was odd. But not in a bad way.
Eventually, Scout found his way into Sniper’s campervan after dinner, and would sit down on the small, ragged couch and continue their conversation. They would drink a few beers some nights, their tongues loosening and their cheeks flushing and their laughter uproarious.
Scout had met Bullet one night after a small campfire, the little owl landing in Scout’s soft hair, much to his dismay. The bird had chirped at him, and Scout had responded. Sniper’s heart tugged slightly upon seeing his two friends meeting, the owl seeming neutral as Scout freaked out about the little avian nesting in his messy hair.
Sniper had never experienced this kind of thing. He had gone out drinking, sure. But he had never had this much fun. Had never laughed this hard nor grinned so wide. He never had a friend before. At least, not a human one. And damn, it was nice. Sniper felt a fiercer blush overtake his cheeks when he saw the large grin resting on Scout’s face, his baby blues glimmering in the fire with unshed tears of joy.
---
“And then, no no hang on a second-” Scout was laughing, barely able to speak a word without a giggle. Sniper was much the same, a mess on the couch unable to stop his chest from heaving with laughter. Scout laughed, before continuing, voice shaky with chuckles.
“And then I tell her, ‘Mom, I haven’t done anything wrong in my entire life!’ with this little cheeky smile, right,” He laughs, allowing Sniper to snort. “And she just smacked by ass a few times and grounded me.”
The two break out into peals of near-drunken laughter, Scout nearly doubling over as Sniper wipes a tear from his eye.
“Aw, mate, that’s fantastic,” Sniper says, laughter dying down as he yawned. He wipes another tear from his eye. They could hear Bullet on the roof, huffing as it sat nipping at bugs and seeds. Their laughter died down as a sense of exhaustion overcame the both of them.
Scout giggled some more, before getting up off the couch and stretching. A yawn overtakes him as well, before he sighs, grabbing his bag of sketchbooks and pencils off the table next to Sniper’s bed, slinging it over his shoulder.
“Anyway,” a quick chuckle, “I gotta head back to base. It’s gettin’ pretty late, and we’ve gotta fight to win tomorrow.” Scout headed toward the door, opening it. He put up two fingers to his temple, giving the Sniper a small salute. “Cya later, Snipes!”
Scout rushed out of the door, taking off towards the faintly glowing RED base in the distance. Sniper shouted his own goodbye at the retreating form of the Scout, before leaning against the doorframe, a smile overcoming his face. He heard Bullet coo questioningly.
“Yeah, He’s pretty great, innit he?” Sniper sighed.
“Coo.”
“Yeah, I know you don’t like him as much as you like me, but he’s okay,” Sniper said, eyes trained on the small, RED Scout heading back to base. “Better than okay, really. He’s great.” That still wasn’t right, though. “Amazing, even.”
He suddenly got caught in a tsunami of emotion. He thought of the Scout again. His smiling face. Hi gorgeous, baby blue eyes. The soft voice he would only use whenever he talked with Bullet. His unique, loud laugh. The distant, gleeful look in his eyes he got whenever he told Sniper stories from his home in Boston. Sniper’s heart thumped slightly louder, and he felt his pulse thrum with an emotion he had never experienced before. It was vaguely familiar, but different in every way. He felt his face heat up in a blush, his heart stuttering uselessly.
He understood. He had never been so sure of what he was feeling in his life.
“He’s perfect.”