Chapter Text
Spy liked a bit of cream with his coffee. Nothing more than a small dollop, added when none of his teammates were watching. Which recently felt like a rarity. Most mornings including the current one consisted of Spy choking down the bitter liquid. It wasn’t the best, but it was better than going without it completely. No one would be able to tell the difference anyways.
Though that doesn’t mean he still wouldn’t have preferred the creamer. Especially today. He tried not to let the disappointment show too much on his face, though he knew there was no point. On Fathers Day, all of his coworkers would know exactly how Spy felt. Even worse, a ceasefire had been called, so he had the whole day to stew on his feelings. There was no escape, not even in his smoking room where a tall glass of cherry merlot wine awaited him. His past haunted him, an unwelcome reminder at just how much of a coward he was, and still is.
His coworkers all knew it too. How any one of them found out, Spy hadn't a clue. But the truth slowly made their way to each mercenary, until only one remained clueless to it all. And Spy suffered because of that. He could hardly stand to be around everyone on a normal day. Now he had to find some way to cope with the silent knowing looks. The big question that hung in the air at all times. Even now, as the Engineer watched Spy quietly from across the room, there was a certain way he held himself. Shoulders tensed, like he was at any moment going to walk over and set Spy straight.
He couldn’t blame the laborer. He had in a way, become the fatherly figure of the mercs. Mostly to Pyro and…
Regardless, he had stepped in and done what Spy had failed to do. Though he highly doubted Engie would ever be the one to initiate any conversation about that fact.
The entrance of tired laughter and shoes against pavement snap Spy out of his spiraling thoughts. Scout strides over beside him to the coffee machine. He takes out the packet, slipping it into the slot and starting it up. Spy watches under the guise of sipping from his mug that Pyro had gotten him for Christmas last year. His chest tightens, air becoming a luxury he couldn’t afford as breathing became near impossible. Each drop of coffee into the kettle seemed millennia apart. Though Scout was chattering away, it all rang in Spy’s ears, a jumble of words he couldn’t understand.
After what felt like an eternity, Scout snatched the kettle out of the machine. He strides over to the overhead cabinets on the other side of the kitchenette where all the mugs were. Spy lets out a breathy wheeze, allowing his lungs to fill with air once more. It was the last straw, however. He couldn’t take it, watching his son go about his day, oblivious to the turmoil Spy was going through. Silently, he sighs before exiting the kitchen. Right as he leaves, Scout fills his mug and prepares it to his liking.
Coffee, with just a dollop of cream.