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"Ah, bushman! What an unexpected, expected surprise!" With a grin, he greeted his colleague. The taller man leaned in to receive his faire la bise greeting, returning the smile with one that was crooked. “Come in! Come in!”
Sniper made his way into the smoking room. Though he had been here countless times before, he gave himself a moment to take in the surroundings. Its lush decorations and exquisite furniture made it clear only the closest of Spy’s associates were allowed in.
He waited for the Frenchman to lock the large wooden door.
“Not sure if it’s any good, but it wasn’t cheap,” he chuckled, passing over a paper bag. Spy graciously took it. He slipped out a narrow green glass bottle that was inside. Sniper watched with anticipation, unsure if the agent would approve of his wine choice. His friend gave a nod.
“It’s not my usual, but it’d certainly do.” The host made his way over to the small bar near the corner of the room. He popped the cork and began to pour. “Missed you the past few days.”
“Yeah? Yeah, I know. Just been busy with getting the van ready for winter is all,” Sniper shrugged. With Spy occupied, he swiftly fixed a stray hair that was out of place—the lack of a hat wasn’t something the man was used to. “Finally done with it now, thankfully. The cold ain’t waiting for no one like they say.” He took a seat on the rouge couch, the fire’s glow trailing along its seams.
“Mhmm. Glad you managed to get it all sorted out, mon ami. Right in time for the first snowfall, too.”
“Yep. Consider myself lucky for that.” The Aussie gave a nod as he took his #1 Sniper mug from gloved hands; the question of how and when the spy took it from his van never crossed his mind. “What about you? How has the dark and mysterious been?”
Spy sat on the other side of the loveseat. He held his glass with one hand, while the other smoothed his dark velvet turtleneck to its perfect shape.
“I’ve been fine, I guess. Remembering why I hate our jobs in the winter seasons though.” He took a sip of the golden liquid. “The snow gives away everything.”
“Gosh, right? Even treading lightly ain’t good enough to not leave footprints. Hope spring comes fast this year.”
“Yes, as do I.”
Sniper flashed a smile before raising his mug. He noticed instead of the white wine he brought, the cup was filled with hot chocolate. The spy caught his expression change.
“Oh, did you want the wine too? My mistake, I didn’t mean to assume—”
“No, no. It’s alright,” he gestured, cutting off the Frenchman. Spy leaned back into the cushion as Sniper gave a sip of reassurance. The dark chocolate liquid warmed up his insides. “Surprised you remember how I take it.”
“A good teammate should know these things,” the European jested. He took a sip of his own beverage. “I’m not one to choose a white wine, but this one is pretty enjoyable. Excellent job.”
“Wish I could say it ain’t pure luck I got one you liked.” The Australian shook his head with a small laugh. “All credit goes to the cashier who helped me choose the wine.”
A mental image grew in his head. It was vivid. The lankier man describing his suave character to a total stranger— his hands fidgeting as he gives information for a personalized recommendation, attempting to leave out the murderous qualities of the Frenchman. After all, there is no easy way to describe the spy without mentioning bloodshed in some way. No doubt it was awkward for both parties, but it warmed his heart.
Sniper warmed his heart.
“This is true, but it still was your choice to buy it.” He took another drink of his wine.
“Hmmm, I guess.” Spy rolled his eyes at the man’s stubbornness.
“You’re too humble.”
“Well, I try. Happy you like it though.”
The two shared another smile. It was a comfortable feeling, to be able to spend time with an old friend without the stress of work. Especially on a cold day like this, there was no other place either of them wanted to be.
He finished his glass of wine sooner than expected.
"Shoot. Give me a moment." Spy stood up with his usual grace. Sniper gave a small nod, his eyes lingering as he watched him make his way to the bar. With his back turned, he refilled his long-stemmed glass, his mind flooding with thoughts from the day.
“Oi! Mind if I use this blanket?” The gruff voice broke the spy from his thoughts. He finished preparing himself the drink and turned towards the couch. Still seated, Sniper held up a thick teal blanket which was resting across the arm of the couch.
“No, not at all. Help yourself.”
The Australian murmured thanks before wrapping the fabric around himself, facing towards the fire again. Spy looked at his glass, before looking back at his guest.
He bit his lip in thought as he returned, still a fair distance away from where the other was sitting. Sniper took a sip of his hot chocolate before briefly closing his eyes to soak in the warmth from the flames and blanket. Spy couldn’t help but watch the man, he’d never seen him look as cozy as he did now.
Hmm.
Once the idea popped into his head, he couldn’t get it out—he wanted to snuggle with the sniper. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the mood of the room, or how much he was enjoying the Aussie’s company, but he wanted to curl up with that man for the rest of the evening. Butterflies started to flutter in his stomach the more he thought about it, but he had to keep his cool. They were just friends, just… really close friends. Never in a million years would he want to make his friend uncomfortable. He didn’t want to risk ruining the evening.
Without warning, Sniper opened an eye. His clear blue pupils reflected the glow from the flames. It only felt like yesterday when he saw the marksman without his hat and glasses for the first time.
He looked directly at Spy.
In an instant, Spy cleared his throat and slowly began to look away, not drawing attention to his staring. He did an excellent job hiding his surprise and fluster, but Sniper could pick up on one thing.
“You want some of the blanket too?”
The Frenchman envied how easy it was for him to ask such a question.
“Non, it’s alright.”
He pushed down his gut reaction to give such a simple reply— a simple confirmation that could change how this night went. The Aussie lifted both brows as if to say ‘suit yourself’. The agent let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He took another sip of his wine, the silence was so loud to him.
He couldn’t help but think about it more. This was his smoking room, and that was his blanket. It was just the two of them, he didn’t have to explain anything to anyone. After all, Sniper was the one to offer. He knew the man wouldn’t’ve asked if it wasn’t something he wanted to do.
They trusted each other like that.
In one big gulp, he finished his white wine. He felt the world spin for a second, but he needed all the courage he could get.
“Actually,” he began to backtrack, “if... you don’t mind.”
“Of course, mate! Didn’t come here just to be a hog.” With one arm, he lifted the blanket, the couch cushion becoming visible again. He smiled at the agent, the eye contact making both hearts skip a beat. Spy gave a small nod and placed down his empty glass before shifting over to where the other mercenary was sitting. He felt a longer arm brush against his shoulders as Sniper helped wrap the blanket around both of them. Now shoulder to shoulder, the spy was still hesitant about getting too close to the other man.
He still couldn’t pin down why he still felt nervous. He did things like this countless times during missions. The number of people he had to sweep off their feet at any given time was too many to fully recall, but this was different. He wanted to reach out and feel the wool of Sniper’s sweater, to hold him tight, but he knew he couldn’t.
“Thanks again for having me over.” Spy kept it to himself that he was thankful for the broken tension.
“You know you're always welcome here, mon ami. Unless I’m busy or if you’ve annoyed me.”
“Ha, yeah yeah.” The Aussie gave a small laugh. “It means a lot, though. This is so much more enjoyable than just bumming around the base. Like, who else is sitting by a fire right now with good company and good hot chocolate? Glad we're, uh, able to do this.”
The agent smirked, catching a glimpse of the Aussie having another sip of his drink. “The feeling is mutual.”
“Oh! That reminds me.”
Spy was wondering when Sniper would begin one of his stories.
“Back in the day, my mom would have so much company during winter. Like, I swear, nearly every day we’d have someone swing by. Cousins, aunts and uncles who weren’t really my aunts or uncles, neighbours, you name it! Think she might’ve invited the mail carrier in once. Anyways, since we got people so often, she’d always be offering tea and biscuits and stuff.”
“As you do.” Spy always took a liking to his ramblings, something about his accent made it easy to be soothed by the words. In a way, he was living vicariously through these stories. For most of his life, Spy was on his feet, being tugged from each direction— espionage, secrecy, he would never describe his life as 'normal'. But Sniper had these life experiences to share: a humble life, one filled with mundane afternoons, being surrounded by family, and having a house to consistently come home to. He didn’t notice that he began to lean on the Aussie’s shoulder.
“Yeah! Exactly, love her for that. Anyways, since I was usually there, I was also able to have those tea and biscuits. I’m talking Earl Grey, Orange Pekoe, and all those types of teas. So every day, I would be able to try a new type of tea!”
“Mmm. Sounds nice.”
“Oh yeah. It really was.” Sniper gave a nod, seeing his own lopsided smile in the hot chocolate's reflection. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that the hot chocolate you made me reminds me of home. Sure, it’s not tea, but it’s still a warm drink made by someone who means a lot to me, you know?”
Spy gave a nod, a warm smile appearing across his face. It took him a second to process his friend’s words. With no more story left, he finally noticed the feeling of Sniper’s shoulder on his ear and shot back to an upright position. He scooted back to put some distance between himself and the Australian. His hands shook in an apologetic nature.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to lean on you.”
“Oh, it’s no biggie.” Sniper’s eyes shifted as he saw the worry on the agent's face. Much like Spy, he didn’t want to make the other uncomfortable, though he was enjoying the closeness. “I don’t mind. If you want to still use me as a headrest, of course.”
Who knew that one simple sentence could change a Frenchman’s demeanour? There was a pause before he moved back to where he was before. He rested his head slowly back to its original spot. This was new for both of them.
“It’s funny, I remember when I first met you, I thought you were just some snobby rich guy,” Sniper began again, looking down to give Spy a look that was a mix of admiration and pity.
“Yes, well. When I met you, I thought you ate mud for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” The agent returned the eye contact, trying his best not to crack a smile.
“Hey! Who told you?” He couldn’t help it, the spy let out a contagious chortle. Soon, the two got their giggles out of their system before leaning back into each other; this time closer than before. From how they were a few years ago, to where they were now was like night and day. The trust and understanding that blossomed over time were hard to miss.
The flames danced in front of them as they held each other close, ready for the cold winter that would come.
