Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Quiet. Desolate. A gentle breeze enveloped the sands of the quaint beach surrounded by foliage. Peppered around the landscape were an array of muted stones, which were momentarily encased in the ocean's gentle waves. Mountains stood as tall as skyscrapers, creating a wall around the beach. It was perfect. It was serene. It was quiet.

The quiet did not last.

Tyres barrelled down the warn track of grain and dirt, the campervan windows rolled down to allow the breezy air to wash over the inside. Eventually the vehicle haulted to a screeching stop, engine dying with a hasty flick. The occupants iching to stretch their aching joints once outside. Both doors flew open; scuffed boots and smart dress shoes made contact with the floor. The clinking of worn pots and pans filled the air as the two pairs of shoes crunched across the sand and rock, one determined to reach their destination.

"Is this really necessary bushman?" A precise and curt voice sliced through the soft atmosphere. The voice belonging to a lithe and well dressed figure, covered in head to toe in a deep navy blue. He glared down at the grains of sand, already coating his priceless Italian shoes.

The said bushman stopped in his tracks, taken aback by the sharpness emitting from the other. "What? Scared yer suit's gonna get dirty? Come on, I promise ya spook, it'll be fun" A rugged and deep voice responded once he came face to face with the complaining Frenchman, slightly wavering in confidence.

The two men had been continuing the same song and dance for a while now. The RED Sniper and the BLU Spy; sworn enemies and rivals on the battlefield, now spending a leisurely afternoon at the beach.

The Spy analysed the Sniper's laid back and smug expression, that was clearly a mask for his qualming and doubtful thoughts swimming through his head, flitting between one response and another. He found the marksman, sporting his signature red vest shirt and stained slacks, unpredictable. From the RED's general anxiousness, to his enticing untamed nature, Spy was plagued with the knowledge of past memories and instances where they interacted. Each detail so minute, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, was scratched into his brain.

The BLU narrowed his icy, piercing eyes at the bushman and finally retorted. "Of course not. I just don't see the point in travelling all this way to have... Your less than substantial cooking" The Sniper's reaction amused Spy. His jade irises widened and his unkempt eyebrows raised. A smug smirk formed on the Spy's face.

"Now listen here. Me cookin' ain't even that bad! Yer just picky, ya snobby bogan!" A familiar rage overtook the marksman's facial expression, which in turn made the Frenchman cross his arms and roll his eyes.

The pair began to have a stare off, both making themselves appear taller and more threatening than the other. Their fight for dominance and control was a constant battle through the years they had known one another. Unfortunately, this only resulted in them both looking ridiculous to any potential onlookers.

Huffing in frustration, the Spy finally relented and relocated his eyes away from the Sniper, knowing he was wasting his time. With another exaggerated huff, the suited man sucked up his pride and began to storm ahead further into the sandy dunes, shouldering past the baffled Australian.

The bushman shook his head in dismay and jogged on after the fuming and embarrassed Spy. "Now hold on! There's no need ter get all pissy about it." The pots and pans strapped to his aged backpack clanked and clinked against one another as he caught up with the navy blue figure. The silence between the pair was almost ear-splitting, an awkward walk towards their destination.

They reached a winding path that guided them to a low cliffside close to the shore; Spy taking caution when near anything that could potentially dirty his shoes. Once they arrived, Sniper slung his backpack down to the rock and began unpacking his supplies. Meanwhile, Spy dusted off his dress shoes and gracefully lit a floral cigarette. He watched the RED set up a rusty portable cooker on the limestone ground, raising an ebony, thin eyebrow in amused interest.

Sniper glanced up at his frustrating companion, noting the Spy's speculative stare. "Well don't just stand there lookin' all bloody fancy, the floor ain't gonna bite ya" The bushman motioned for the Frenchman to sit. The Spy debated his options on where he was least likely to ruin his suit and ultimately decided on a large, flat boulder. The suited man crossed his legs and took another puff of his cigarette. The Sniper continued "I was plannin' on havin' some grub while we were here, ya know... Introduce ya to me country's uh... 'Delicacies'" The Australian shifted his sunset aviators further up his nose, scrunching and sniffing in a nervous manner.

"How... Appetising..." The Spy murmured in a tone lacking enthusiasm. He watched Sniper slump down and turn on his rusted portable cooker and unwrap a small paper package containing uncooked pork. The sharpshooter proceeded to place a charred frying pan on the small cooker, and begin to cook the raw meat. "Are we seriously having a filthy and greasy slab of pig? Mon dieu, I thought you couldn't get anymore primitive than you already were"

"Ey, c'mon. I promise ya, it's bloody aces. Presention? Not so great, but the taste is bloody bangin'! Parents used ter whip this up for us on the weekends back in Oz." The RED responded in a jovial way, his sharp canines on full display as he turned the cooker temperature up. The faint crackle of the cooking meat bringing back fond memories of when his parents would have barbecues in the sweltering outback sun: his mother, with her short stature but distinguishable and nuturing aurora flipping the briskets. And his father, lounging on a moth ball reeked chair, engrossed in a newspaper.

"That's rich coming from you, 'Aussie'." (The BLU Spy made sure to exaggerate the word 'Aussie' to mock the sharpshooter.) The masked man's comment slipped from his usually trained tongue, while he was mindlessly rolling another cigarette, in a sardonic and harsh tone.

It made the Sniper pause.

The marksman lowered his green eyes towards the dirt and an uncomfortable silence took over the scene; only the sizzling of the snags and the ocean's hushed ripples could be heard.

The BLU's stormy eyes widened in a rush of panic. His face contorting into a look of regret and guilt. "Oh non non, Sniper I-"

"It's fine. It's the truth after all..." Sniper interrupted the stammering Spy, his anger morphing into a sorrowful acceptance. "I know I ain't a..." He trailed off and muttered lowly.

The Frenchman quietened upon hearing the sharpshooter's response, casting his eyes downwards. The silence continued upon them for what seemed like eons. The pair trying with all their willpower to not ruin the day and sour the mood further. Finally, a cough emitted from the Spy before he began to ramble. "Ah well I believe your... Snags are burning." The BLU pointed out, his usual smuggness gradually returning.

"Oh..." Sniper hastily turned the meat over with his spatula upon hearing the other's words. "Eh that could've ended tits up couldn't it?" A low snicker erupted from the Frenchman.

"My, you have a way with words don't you?" The BLU stated. Sniper joined in with the snickering, understanding this was the Spy's way of not just changing the subject, but also as a form of apologising.

Finally, the snags were done and the marksman flicked off the stove, unpacked the condiments, and placed them upon the chipped plates. He offered the first one to the masked man and tucked into his meal. The Frenchman eyed the food suspiciously, prodding and poking at it with his knife and fork. He gave it a light sniff and gracefully cut it, placing it within his mouth. "Hmm, not bad I suppose"

"Yer think? That means 'they're good' comin' from you" The RED said with an air of snarkiness. Spy rolled his cloudy eyes and the pair evolved into a slightly comfortable silence as they ate.

Chapter Text

A few pleasant moments passed before the pair finished both their plates. Sniper had licked his plate clean, while Spy gently wiped his mouth with his expensive, silk handkerchief. The Frenchman handed his plate over to Sniper who cleaned them with the water from his water bottle and placed them within his battered backpack. Spy then offered the marksman one of his cigarettes from his disguise kit and swiftly took out his gold lined lighter. Sniper, in turn gladly took the offered cigarette and allowed Spy to light it. The masked man did the same with his own and they both inhaled the nicotine in sync.

The waves echoed from the cliff, crashing into the limestone and sands below. The two assassin's eyes, a pair of cloudy, steel blues and tinted green's gazed into the horizon line. Rays from the sun baking the ground around them like an oven. The silence continued to stretch on with only the smoke between them, the pair happily not needing to fill it with pointless conversation.

After a good while, Sniper cleared his dry throat and reached into his backpack, pulling out a small crate of "Hale's Own Beer", the label proudly displaying the CEO of Mann Co's beaming face. The hunter popped off one of the bottle top's with his kukri and took a lengthy gulp. Spy flicked his cigarette to the side and glanced over to Sniper, a small smile playing at his face.

"You seriously drink that vile, putrid, tasteless excuse of alcohol? Eugh, I should have expected you having not just a bad taste in food, but beverages too." The BLU stated with a smug smirk.

Sniper responded with a toothy grin, showing his unusually sharp canines and continuing to take swigs of the beer. "Well, that's just your opinion, spook."

"Well that opinion would happen to be the correct one"

As time ticked on and the sun began to crisp the lands and boil the waters, the Frenchman ended up finally caving in and nursing his own bottle of questionable Australian beer. Soon the whole crate was clean and glass bottles were littered around them. Chuckles and recounting stories of their time at RED and BLU began to fill in the area: from RED Demoman's drunken antics while on the field, to BLU Engineer and Pyro's art club. The banter creating an uncustomary warmth between the usually cold assassins.

"Ohhh you're spot on there mate! The big guy does look absolutely pissed everytime ya backstab the doc. I can see it through me scope even!" The RED patted his knee and chortled, looking fondly towards the lithe man.

"They definitely have something going on between them, don't you think? I've heard their disgusting ways of "flirting" with one another. Absolutely no subtlety." Spy pauses and leans forward towards Sniper, voice lowering and face scrunching up in disgust. "I've heard them once in the sewers, they must have thought they were alone, but no... I was forced to witness the most sickly sweet form of flattery ever graced to my ears"

The Australian burst out laughing at that, now slapping his knee and choking on his own spit. "Jesus christ! I didn't know they did all that. It's worse than I imagined!"

The laughter died down as dusk started to roll in. Sniper stood and stumbled around the area, collecting any glass bottles that remained scattered. Once done, instead of sitting opposite to the BLU, the bushman opted to sit on the same rock as him. Spy raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't question the action. His eyes flickered towards Sniper's neck, scanning for anything in particular.

"I've always wondered how you got that necklace"

The marksman's eyes shot back to Spy and glanced down at the said tooth hanging on his necklace. "Oh this? I got this beaut from the first croc I killed. She put up a good fight but... I had to put her down. Didn't really want to ya know?"

The Frenchman makes a quiet humming sound, deep in thought and wonder. "And why is that? You are un chasseur? A hunter, correct? Your country strives on one's ability to slay beasts."

"Yeah but she didn't need to die. It was pointless to be honest with ya. I was tryin' prove something... 'Bout being strong and all" Sniper admits with a hint of regret and guilt. "I was just young and stupid. Dad wasn't pleased when I told 'em. But this-" He holds the crocodile tooth in his hand, feeling the smooth texture, almost as a sort of comfort. "This is a reminder of what I did that day. A reminder to not be so... Reckless... Unprofessional"

The suited man was taken aback by this revelation. It didn't cross his mind that such a brutish bushman could be sentimental and thoughtful. He suspected Sniper was a far more simpler and uncomplicated man, yet here he was: pouring out his regrets and mistakes to his rival. Spy would have mocked him if the other wasn't so close to him. They were pretty close to touching shoulder's weren't they?

The BLU discard those inappropriate thoughts, trying not to stare too intently at the other.

Sniper's eyes searched towards the fading light in front of them. He stood up. "Sun's dippin'. I think we should pack up and head back to-"

"Why are we doing this?"

Sniper stared back down at the Spy, eyebrows raised and expression contorting into one of confusion.

"Uh. Whatcha mean?"

There was an unsure pause from the Frenchman. And then he continued. "I... Why are we here? Why do we keep doing this? Meeting like this? It goes against everything: our jobs, our teammates." The BLU gestured between them. "This shouldn't feel so-"

"Normal..." The marksman's finished the Spy's sentence with a strained sigh and a hand on his neck. The mood transforming into something sour and unwanted as realisation daunted over him. "I dunno either. Don't think we're supposed to be doin' any of this. Breaches contract ya know. If we get caught we could..."

Sniper let the answer linger and hang in the air like a guillotine.

"We can't do this Spy..."

Spy's chest started to ache at that, watching the marksman start to turn and walk away. The masked man couldn't watch witness to something that brought him so much frustration, annoyance yet joy and laughter slip away so easily. So Sniper wasn't even going to fight for them? After all they'd been through, now was the time to give up? His lithe hands found their way to Sniper's large, calloused one's, pulling him back down to sit on the rock.

The Aussie let out a small, startled yelp, then glared at Spy with no real anger, only uncertainty. "Mate... Listen. Whatever the hell this is can't- It can't keep happenin'. Just think 'bout the other blokes, our jobs, the war-"

The BLU Spy shot Sniper a baffled expression then grit his teeth. "For once in your life can you stop being so professional?"

Upon hearing that, Sniper's ears turned a bright shade of red and his face fell into a grimace. "Well that's just... I dunno what to say..." His words seemed to stumble and fall like a new born doe. "I like whatever this is... But I feel like there's a bloody timer over our damn heads. I don't wanna see you-..." The words got trapped in Sniper's throat. No. He couldn't admit that. That would confirm that this had been happening between them.

"Go on. Say it." Spy's voice grated, he wasn't letting the RED off so easily.

"Spy, listen-"

"Say it Sniper."

Instead he was met with nothing.

Spy huffed and stared down at Sniper's large hand encasing his, the corner of the masked man's mouth perked up at the action. But as he did the RED let go, acting like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. Spy's lips flattened into a deep frown from the lack of contact. Sniper was shutting himself from him. Spy swallowed his pride, one last ditching attempt.

"Sniper-" The Frenchman's voice emitted a soft, sugary tone, almost pleading.

"No. Enough. This is bloody insane... You're bloody insane."

Sniper's walls had gone up again; the Aussie couldn't even look at him. Spy had only a glimpse into what his rival was really like and it slipped away from his fingertips.

Spy wanted the real Sniper.

Spy wanted the truth.

Spy would never do this if he was sober.

He knew it was risky, foolish even but it was his only chance to see what the other would do, to prove his suspicions.

The BLU stood and confidently strode towards the cliffedge, Sniper behind looking at him with curiosity and bewilderment.

"Spook? What the hell ya doin'?"

The suited man abruptly stopped once his toes reached just before the edge, rocks and pebbles cascading down at the weight. He gazed out at the dusk that claimed the once bright horizon line.

Taking a deep, heavy breath, Spy shedded his navy blazer, letting it crumble to the dirt, and practically ripped the mask from his head. His untouched skin finally free from the cloth, letting the winds of the sea hit his face.

Sniper's eyes widened into sheer distress, his thoughts going a hundred miles an hour. It felt blasphemous merely seeing the back of his unmasked head. This wasn't the reasonable, contained Spy he knew. This was something angry, frustrated and raw. His eyes flickered towards the BLU's back, his ebony hair laced with meandering rivers of grey; the light breeze carrying the strands.

"You're right. This whole thing is insane..." Spy's voice seemed to be carried in throughout the landscape, echoing off the cliffs and coves. Spy glanced to the side, bearly displaying the profile of his face. Sniper's breath hitched at the action, noticing his long, hooked nose and pale skin.

"But when has that ever stopped us?"

Spy's dress shoes took one last step from the edge, and he welcomed the ocean's waters below.