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A game of cards was in full swing in the communal kitchen. Mostly everyone was playing, safe for four people. Pyro, who had no interest in cards whatsoever, opting to help Sniper with his aim by providing a target in the form of an apple on his head, instead.
While the sound of arrows flying and shouts about funerals and murder boomed from the kitchen, Spy idled by the window upstairs, scanning the dimly lit area outside. The sun wasn't visible anymore, which made it hard to find his target. Somehow, the thought of Scout being his target made him cringe. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes to grumble to himself in french. Why did every conversation he wanted to have with Jeremy had to have a hide and seek beforehand? Jeremy avoided talking to him at all costs, no matter what Spy had to say.
Though in moments like these, the distant sound of metal hitting metal gave Scout away quite well. This was one of those moments.
"Stupid' fuckin' Henry! Stupid fuckin'-" Blam. "James!" Scout was nearly out of breath, done reciting the names of his brothers while beating up broken down and discarded sentry turret prototypes that Engie threw out. Bit of a waste in his opinion, but he was too angry to care about metal scrap going to the dump.
He huffed, taking another swing, then another, then another. When he felt his hands growing tired, he felt a sudden surge of rage. Jeremy threw his bat into the beaten up scrap as hard as he could, sparks flying upon impact. He stood above his work, angrily clutching his fists and breathing heavily. He felt even angrier once he noticed there was a dent in his precious bat-
"Are you finished destroying everything around you, or should I give you a minute?" Quipped a slick voice from the shadows. Spy took a step towards him, fiddling with his lighter.
"Yeah, gimme like, a thousand more minutes away from ya," Scout growled, shooting what he hoped was a good death glare his way.
Spy just raised an eyebrow as he passed Scout, leaning onto a concrete wall right behind the scrapped turrets. "Are you done?" He repeated, lighting a cigarette. He didn't raise his eyes to look at Scout.
"Yeah, I guess so," Scout said, giving the whole pile of metal a harsh kick, hissing in pain right after and shaking his foot out. "Shit."
Spy rolled his eyes, taking a long drag from his cigar. "I came to talk, Jeremy." He stated calmly, breathing out a puff of smoke.
"Talk?" Scout felt the anger coming back. Oh, how he hated whenever Spy said that. 'Came to talk.' He'd always 'come to talk', and end up yelling at him minutes later. Somethin' Scout didn't want to deal with right now.
"Yes, talk. I was going to ask about your behaviour lately, but it seems like I didn't pick a good moment."
"Ya never pick good moments," Scout grumbled. "What behaviour? I act like normal, you're th' weirdo one. Why do you care how I act anyways?" He barked.
"You know why I care, I've told you-" Spy began, only to be interrupted. "You NEVER cared, so why start NOW?" Scout fried Spy with his eyes. "Ya don't have the right to pick into my life pal. I don't care what ya said. You left yourself, 'n you should stand by that. I don't want ya snooping out everything about me 'n ma just because you like to feel important!" He jabbed a finger into the air in front of Spy.
Spy felt himself cringe again. He couldn't possibly expect Scout to understand, of course, but somehow, these words stung. He couldn't provide what he should've, made false promises and he knew there was still an angry woman out there who wanted to twist his neck more than she wanted a warm bed.
"Jeremy."
"Spy."
"Listen to me. You can insult me all you want, but let me speak first. You've been acting way more aggressive than usual lately. As if you were on your period." He nipped right back at Scout.
"Shut up," Scout groaned. "Just fuckin'. Leave. You got no idea how I act usually." He knew that Spy was joking around, of course, he knew. He hasn't had a period in years, anyways. He had the Medic to thank for that. And some bird (what he hoped were) remains.
"I think I do. I know more about you than you'd like to think, Jeremy," Spy argued, gritting his teeth together. "I don't expect you to cry on my shoulder, in fact, please don't. But I just want to know what's the matter with you these days?"
Suddenly, Jeremy saw red. "YOU don't know fuckin' SHIT!" He grabbed Spy by his collar. "You THINK you know shit but ya don't! You don't know anythin'!" He shook with him until Spy wriggled free and took a step back, smoothing down his suit. Scout responded by taking a step forward.
"I know plenty!" Spy argued.
"You DON'T! How many sons did ma have?" Scout hissed.
"Eight!" Spy shot back immediately.
"WRONG! I wasn't even born a guy!" Jeremy shouted, sweat pricking on his forehead. He waved his hands around for emphasis. He reached into his pocket swiftly, pulling out a crumpled letter. "Dear Julie!" He read the first line, throwing the crumpled paper at Spy's face.
Spy blinked. Then blinked again, picking the letter up calmly, ignoring the huffing and puffing Scout in front of him. It was a fairly standard letter, signed by Jeremy's three oldest brothers. Asking him if he was coming to visit on Christmas, or if he was gonna swing by for Henry's birthday. (Spy remembered the birthdays of all of his ex-lover's sons, even if they weren't his children. He dropped off a small gift every time he could.)
The letter was addressed to someone named Julie.
He lowered the letter down, to reveal a very red-faced Jeremy in front of him. Instead of the expected anger, he was embarrassed. Maybe a bit angry.
Spy was hit with so much information at once. So, she was when she told him that the newborn was a boy? Did she think he would be more likely to stay, then? He fucked up so much as a father (this wasn't news to him, anyway) that Jeremy wouldn't even tell him something so important? Did he think he'd yell at him for it, why did he... He closed his eyes, exhaling. Psychoanalyze everyone later, Jacques, he thought to himself, focus on the crumbling relationship with your only son first.
"Only ma tries." His voice was way lower now. "I only come home for her. Most of th' guys moved out anyways." His eyes darted from Spy's hands to his expression, to his hands again.
"Jeremy." Spy tossed the letter aside. "I'm far from an ideal father-"
"You fuckin' SUCK."
"I fucking suck," Spy repeated calmly. "But I do care. And I... Feel guilty about not knowing such important things about you." The words came out before he could think about something smart to say. He didn't have time to be his calculative self when he was speaking with his fast-paced son.
"You fuckin' should," Jeremy said. He couldn't stand this. He hated when he was forced to talk to Spy. In a way, he did enjoy this, though. He felt a weight being lifted off his chest, a sort of feeling of... closure. That's the word.
Spy sighed. "I left to protect you. Such a big family, your mother and you boys- it would be a disaster if my enemies found out about you all. I should've been there to support you, I know. But your mother did, didn't she?"
"Kinda," Jeremy mumbled. "She would joke about th' family curse of always havin' sons no matter what God throws at 'er."
Spy chuckled.
"And she'd cut my hair. Scolded th' others too. But they don't live with 'er no more, so she can't do nothin' about the letters." He looked aside. It felt really weird telling the Spy all of this. Like being given gills and thrown into a lake all of a sudden.
Spy thought, and thought hard. He looked all around and up, made sure he saw nobody. It was only fair, wasn't it? For Jeremy to know who his father was, at least, his face and name. He deserved much more from Spy, he knew that. But this would do for now.
Then he pulled his mask off, folding it neatly with his long fingers. His eyes met Jeremy's, and he refused to look away, as exposed as he felt. "It's only fair that you get to know who I am too. Jacques." He bowed his head down ever so slightly as if he was meeting Scout for the first time.
Jeremy was put on the spot. This all felt so important, way too important for him to deal with. He took a good long look at Spy anyway.
His hair slicked back, grey strands webbed between dark brown. Eyebrows just as arched as Jeremy's. A tan-line by from the mask.
Scout stared. The first thought he had, wow, was he gonna be balding by fifty too? The second was, did all the guys in his family have dumb fuckin' names?
Before he could say anything, they heard a muffled voice from around the corner. Spy disappeared in a small puff of smoke right as Pyro came into view. He couldn't risk anyone knowing his real identity.
Pyro limped over to Scout, tilting his head. Scout flinched at the smell of gasoline and burnt rubber, as well as at the sudden sight. "Hey, uh... Did the guys send ya?" He asked awkwardly. " Have you been crying? " Pyro signed. Scout blinked and then realized, that oh, he fuckin' was. He pushed past Pyro, speeding past to get away from the unwanted attention.
Slamming the door to his tiny room, he breathed out heavily as he held it shut. "Fuckin' hell." He muttered. He slid down the door, sitting right in front of it. He was beginning to regret all the things he's told Spy. He should work on shutting his mouth when he was angry. He should work on shutting up in general, he thought bitterly.
Pyro didn't have to turn around to know Spy was right behind him. " You guys are pretty shit at communication. "
Jacques assumed the look Pyro was giving him was disappointed.
Spy sighed, lighting another cigar. "You're not any better, mon amie ." Guilt burnt his throat more than the smoke.