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God, it’s been a tough night.
First his target gets tipped off about his plans, then the intelligence is moved to the most inconvenient location ever. And he got punched! A lot!
It’s not a /real/ problem for a tough guy like me, he reminds himself, even if it /really freaking hurt./
Scout shuffles inside, quietly closing the front door behind himself. He quickly dumps his satchel near the door and sighs, allowing himself to relax now that he’s entirely safe.
He needs a shower, definitely. The papers have already been dropped off to be taken by whoever the middleman is this time, so now his first priority is getting the smell of blood off him. And maybe do laundry. He kinda likes this shirt, it’d be a shame if it stained and he had to throw it out.
All of those tasks require light, though! No matter how well Medic gets around in the dark, Scout still needs light to see where the hell he’s going. The last thing he needs tonight is to break someone’s favorite bowl or whatever.
He clicks the light on.
Oh, for the love of-! Spy is sitting in the armchair near the door. A book rests in his lap as he tilts his head expectantly at Scout, as if he’s been expecting him to walk in. There’s no way Spy didn’t /practice/ that knowing look, and the thought almost makes Scout laugh.
“Do you know what time it is?” Spy is exactly as smug and terrible as he always is. Not wearing his mask didn’t make him any less terrible, much to Scout’s dismay. He doesn’t have time for this, especially not tonight.
“Ten past none-of-your-freaking-business!”
“Is it really, now?” Spy hums, his eyebrows only raising further. “Last time I checked, it was two in the morning.”
“Last time I checked,” Scout snarks, “You were getting your old man beauty sleep.”
“I am not that old! Even your mother is-” He cuts himself off at Scout’s glare, before clearing his throat. “Regardless, I am not in bed.”
“Go to sleep.” Scout states, definitely not pouting.
“Unfortunately, that’s not something I can do when my dearest son is missing.”
Aw hell. So /that’s/ why Spy’s doing the snarky and rude father routine with him. It would also explain the book - he must have been waiting for Scout’s return for a while. Despite everything, it’s still hard to adjust to Spy actually and outwardly /caring/ about him.
“.. Did I forget to leave a note?”
“You absolutely did, Jeremy.” Spy chides, setting his book aside as he strides over. “You had me and your father /incredibly/ worried about you.”
“You didn’t have to get Sniper all worked up about me.” Scout whines, trying to shoo Spy away from him.
“Nonsense, he was already concerned.” Spy continues to fuss over him, pulling out a handkerchief to clean his bloody nose. “So concerned in fact, that he took a stress nap on the couch two hours ago, and has not moved since.”
Sniper remains face-down on the couch. He’s sprawled across the entire thing, in a way that will make moving him to have breakfast on the couch /incredibly/ difficult later.
“You’re grounded,” Sniper mumbles, clearly dazed and half-asleep.
“I didn’t know you were awake,” Spy’s expression softens as Sniper stirs, before he quickly catches himself and turns back to Scout. “I agree with your father, though.”
“Awww, pa!” Scout complains, before quickly being shushed by Spy, who’s moved on to trying to comb out his hair.
“You have brought this upon yourself, mon fils.” He scolds, “Your actions must have consequences. If this were any other mercenary position, or, god forbid, an espionage contract, you would be presumed dead, and anyone with your likeness would be summarily disposed of.”
“Yeah yeah, ruthless industry.” Scout groans, “Your knives are very sharp and you’re a kinda okay father. Can I go now?”
Spy gives Scout a once-over, and then glances at Scout's bag, still lying by the door where he dropped it.
“Move your belongings to your room where they belong, then,” He sighs dramatically,”Oui, you can go.”
Scout doesn’t wait around for Spy to change his mind.