Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Spy had never felt so out of place in another's clothing. The walls of the campervan sweat with claustrophobia, the dense atmosphere of the vehicle closing in like a looming predator. Sniper seemed to pay no mind to the temperature, though. He’d grown used to it by now. He sat criss-cross on a top of his bed which inhabited most of the van's space, Spy sitting at the edge with his legs dangling off the side. The van was certainly odorous, for better or for worse, which added to its stifling aroma only perpetuated from sitting beneath the southern sun.

Ever so often Spy would check his watch, assuring himself his disguise would keep up and the worrisome pit in his stomach could subside. Deceiving others was always so easy; a task so simple and natural to him he wouldn't think about it twice. That was until it was personal. When the person you deceive is someone you yearn for it doesn't feel like instinct or duty— it's a worrisome pit in your stomach.

Spy slid a small flask out from behind the lapel of his suit. "As promised," he urged Sniper to hand him an empty cup.

"I always knew you had enough booze for two,” he snickered as Spy emptied a final drop into the cup.

He was quick to take it down and decipher its flavor to guess the liquor, "Peppermint?" He slid his tongue across his teeth and savored the lingering taste. Spy gave him an affirming nod and congratulated his accuracy. The two passed the cup between each other until it was empty.

"I’ll buy a bottle of brandy next time, since we're pulling out the fancy stuff.”

Spy only smiled in return. Once again he checked his watch, his eyebrows flattening and lips straightening into a stern expression.

"Got somewhere to be?" Spy’s breath hitched in his throat before he watched Sniper’s view shift to his own watch for a moment, his eyes peering out from beneath his sunglasses. “Sun’s barely set.”

Spy rotated his watch passively, soon searching through his pocket for his lighter then two cigarettes. He leaned towards him, not seeming to pay mind to anything he'd just commented as he for once abandoned his usual spot at the edge of the bed. He motioned a cigarette to Sniper’s mouth, allowing him to loosen his jaw so he could place it between his lips, still providing no feedback. Sniper receptively allowed him to light it without further pushing the conversation.

“I always leave here with an empty pack,” Spy situated himself back in his seat, flicking his lighter on and off.

“You smoked the other 18 on your own.” Sniper twirled his cigarette between his fingertips, “Can’t let go of one measly cig?”

“Well,” Spy seemed anything but overzealous to share his cigarettes, albeit he did intentionally save one for Sniper and their visits, “They’re expensive. So there.”

“Expensive has never been an issue for you before.”

Spy couldn’t argue that. The suit he donned was far more than a pack of cigarettes yet he felt no guilt purchasing it and many more of its ilk. Sniper would collect the empty cigarette boxes, stacking a new pack every time as an ode to each of their times together.

The cigarettes didn’t help the vehicles already pressuring aroma, as the stench hung to every cloth, but it surely soothed Spy from his worries. The two were collectively surprised his lungs hadn’t been reduced to ash from the amount he smoked, which reflected how often he craved the comfort of a cloud of smoke; the chemical concoction that washed down his stress like a good sip of wine.

The two peered out the blinds, pointing at any life they’d spot and waffling about anything that came to their mind. Sniper felt honored Spy could allow himself to act so loosely around him. Not, to his knowledge, keeping up any barriers throughout their conversations. He mentioned places he’d visited throughout past business ventures, sights he’d seen, foods he’d tried and to Sniper it was all quite fascinating because it was Spy. The mysterious masked man was laying down the details of his life to him so of course he was invested.

Spy couldn't say he was parting without regrets, but at least he could pretend he was parting with a scrap of dignity.

He decided it was about time he returned to his base, making a dull excuse of having to be well rested for the following day while knowing in full his actions would be eating him alive the entire night. Sniper accepted his farewell kindly and waved him off into the night.

Feeling his disguise fall, returning to what now felt primal; it was like a touch of God. It was just him and the eyes of some superior force humbling him to his core, an awareness that’d bring you to your knees. It was shameful, naturally so he wouldn’t try anything daring. His web of lies was well crafted after all.

Chapter Text

Delicately working and fixated on his practice, Sniper sat hunched over at the dining area of his van. His legs loosely wrapped themselves around the one leg the square pedestal table stood on, his elbows leaning into it with every flick of the wrist. In his right hand he held a carving knife, in the other a decently sized block of wood that he ever so carefully cut down into small, detailed planes. Spy lurked behind him, his thumbs rubbing into the others shoulder blades as he diligently crafted.

Spy admired his delicacy with the knife, it reminded him that not every blade was just a tool of violence. The scars on his back were discernible beneath his shirt; Spy slid his fingertips over them knowing he’d planted almost each and every one of them and with careful precision he admired his handiwork.

His thumbs quarreled with the knots in his back and were keen to steer clear of each wound. He’d laid them down like a map, the most prominent and deepest one marking his favorite spot in the curve of his back.

He’d considered it a favorite because everytime he sunk his blade into that spot, he could push the weapon in until only the handle was visible; until the blood seeped into his gloves. It wasn’t quick, either. Not as it usually was. It was a steady, slow paced descent through each layer of the other man.

He could stand close enough to hear his heartbeat slow, to smell the sweat that coated his hands from gripping onto his rifle for so long. The entire experience was synonymous with a profound sense of fulfillment; knowing the two sharpened their skills strictly for one another.

“Hand me a cig,” Sniper kept his eyes fixated on the block of wood while extending his hand behind him, waiting for Spy to supply him.

He placed a cigarette in his hand and allowed him to put it in his mouth before lighting it. He momentarily peered over Sniper to take a look at his project, at least until he swatted him away. “No peeking.”

He let out a soft chuckle and let him continue as he was. He often thought about how amusing Sniper's accent was and would mock him to himself when alone. Not out of malice, moreso in an endearing way. Seeing him so indulged in what he was working on, in some way, was comforting; having a bond with someone so strong they didn't seem to worry about your presence. He allowed himself to enjoy this short-lasted peace, though, until stepping onto the soil of his proper base brought about the reality of the situation.

He didn't want this to be something he'd look back on regretfully. He didn't want to turn around to a path riddled with rue.

“There. Done.” Sniper’s voice interrupted his train of thought. He moved to sit beside him as he finally allowed him to see what had been working on. The block of wood he held had been meticulously transformed into a wooden carving of a bear, standing on all fours. He found the creation frankly adorable, and it showed on the unfamiliar look of joy on his face. Sniper seemed even a bit shocked by this unusual contortion of his face; a smile. One where you could see his teeth, maybe a little bit of his gums, and his mask crinkled alongside his cheeks and nose.

A red tone brushed over Sniper’s cheeks, flattering his creation could elicit such a warm reaction out of Spy. He turned over the wooden sculpture and carved his initials into the bottom, then handing it back to Spy.

“Is this for me, can I keep it?” Spy ran his thumb over the small ridges that imitated the bear's fur. “Yeah,” Sniper gave him a lopsided grin, “It’s not Brandy or anything fancy like that but… yeah, you can keep it.”

He was changing what his path was paved of. Even if not merely a fraction of it, not all of it could be looked back on with disgust, and that could be rewarded with at the least a sigh of relief. He placed the piece onto the table, cupping his hands around it. He leaned onto his elbow, hand covering his mouth and hiding the unfaltering smile on his face. Although he tried to return to the serious expression he frequented, he couldn't say he'd received a gift in a long, long time, especially not a handcrafted one.

“Thank you,” he murmured, mouth still covered by his hand but still audible enough for Sniper to catch it.

He crossed his arms over the table and rested his chin on them, “Yeah, it's… no problem.”

Chapter Text

Darkness coated the pale land, engulfing the details of any structure in the distance to useless blobs of vague familiarity. The path back to Blu Base was nothing but washed out footprints of dress shoes in a thick mud. Spy’s slim figure crept through a decently sized hole in the fence that surrounded Red Base.

He placed one foot through the hole, his weight belonging to the one still in Red Base. The wet soil that surrounded the fence swallowed his foot up to his ankle, he groaned with frustration.

He curled his fingers against the fence, wriggling at least his ankle from its grasp. He continued these efforts and struggled to keep his spine twisted long enough to maintain focus on his captured foot.

He turned forward, sighing deeply with a sour expression and allowing the pressure on his back to subside before trying again. As he finally felt prepared for his next attempt he felt a pull on his leg; not that of the mud but a hand’s grip.

He jolted at the yank the mysterious hand gave him but his surprise was quickly resolved by a feeling of gratitude for its assistance. He pulled himself fully through the fence's gap and patted himself off, his shoe sloping dirt along the ground and leaving about footprints.

He smeared them into messy smudges and as he did so two boots entered his view. Spy turned his attention upright, being met with a Soldier whose expression was hard to read.

The moonlight that beamed from his helmet could at least confirm his affiliation; Blu. “Oh…” Soldier huffed, slightly bending his neck sideways causing his helmet to sway, “I thought you were one of them!” He stuck out his thumb to point behind himself.

Spy couldn’t help but inquire, “Why are you here? Where have you been?”

“Why are you here, frenchy!?” Soldier stuck his index finger into Spy’s chest. “Where have you been!?”

Spy rolled his eyes, realizing he didn’t truly care enough about his whereabouts to hold a conversation with him. He departed from the brute and continued on his way to their proper base. Soldier was quick to chase after him and once he caught up with him he, rather intensely, slammed his arm around Spy’s shoulder to pull him near and whisper, “Between you and me, crouton…”

Spy winced as Soldier’s hot breath crashed into his left cheek. He shoved Soldier away and straightened out his suit, “You've been sneaking into Red Base for sometime, je sais.”

“Je doesn’t sais ANYTHING! I was… collecting information. Nothing more.” He grinned, not paying much attention to Spy’s aversion.

“Yes, because the Red Demoman has so much valuable information to share.” He replied sarcastically. Soldier opened his mouth for a moment but ultimately decided to leave the conversation as it were.

“There’s another hole in the fence,” Soldier remarked once he finally came around to talking again. “It’s bigger! Not that you’d really need a bigger one…” He looked Spy up and down for a moment, “And no mud; so your shoes won’t get all mucky, fancy-pants.” He seemed to stretch the syllables of that nickname.

Spy acknowledged the information with a nod, forcing himself to ignore Soldier’s judgement of his stature. The two continued on, and for some time Soldier seemed to be mentally formulating a statement, one that brewed in his mind up until the duo were safely on Blu Base.

“You wouldn't tell anyone about this… Would you?” A threat loomed behind his words, Spy chose to see past it. “Of course not, as long as you keep your mouth shut.” Soldier agreed to this compromise.

“I don’t know what… who… you’re doing over there, crouton,” he adjusted his helmet, later crossing his arms over his chest, “But you better be smart about it!” Spy couldn’t believe Soldier was attempting to give him advice, but he allowed him to continue, “You’re not the only one willing to backstab around these parts, Spy.”

Spy took Soldier’s words into consideration. This rather emptyheaded man was right, he concurred. He knew where he’d set down his gamepiece. Even knowing it’d be a losing move, he chose to keep it where it sat.