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It was a Smissmas party. There was a ceasefire in effect, and they had stretched the celebration into the late hours of the night. Party was actually a bold term for it– organized by Demo and Scout, it really just consisted of heaps of alcohol and loud music.
Engineer had taken interest in Spy that night, because Spy was drunk. It was certainly not uncommon to see him nursing a glass of wine or whiskey, but never did he let it get the best of him. Now, not only was he in the corner, snorting as he laughed at a joke– he was laughing at a joke from Sniper. That set off some alarm bells.
He had also been acting strangely towards Engineer for the last few days. He had caught him staring at him from the corner of his vision, and then panickedly looking away when caught. Their post mission gossip sessions, usually occurring naturally, had become few and far between for the past week.
So when he watched Spy stumble into one of the offices down the hall, he thought he’d politely remove himself from his conversation with Medic and follow. Never mind, of course, the fact that this was the universal party sign for ‘I need some air’. Eh.
When he creaked open the door, Spy was sat, looking disheveled, and lit by the slit of light coming through the crack into the dark room. His eyes widened, his expression seeming to say oh fuck, anyone but you, dude. Engineer sat on the other end of the couch and handed him a water bottle.
“Merci,” Spy said, quietly. It came out slurred. Merrssee.
“So,” Engineer said awkwardly, after a pause, “What's up with you?”
Spy scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He glanced away furtively, fidgeting agitatedly. His discomfort seemed to be growing by the second.
Engineer leaned in slowly, scrutinizing his coworker. His vest under his suit was unbuttoned, tie loosened. As Engie grew closer Spy froze, distressed. Engineer pulled off his goggles, looking eye to eye with Spy, whose face twisted into an almost comical expression of despair. He mumbled something.
“Huh?” Engineer asked.
“Je me sens attirée par un Texan!” He repeated, practically wailing.
Engineer, hearing only the word ‘Texan’, pointed to his own chest inquisitively, when, without warning, Spy launched himself on him from across the couch.
In an instant Engie became the subject of Spy’s desperate mouth, his kisses spreading erratically across the other’s face, forehead bumping into his hardhat as he slung his arms over the shorter one’s shoulders. The air got knocked out of the Texan with a whoosh, who pushed his helmet off his head and grabbed Spy’s face, trying to direct him to his own mouth. Finally their lips connected and he hears Spy let out a sigh as they kiss, his tongue working its way into Engineer’s mouth and over his teeth.
After a while, Engineer grabbed the small of Spy’s back and tried to lay them down. Not so sober himself, he accidentally knocked them off the couch. He laughed as they tumbled to their knees and flopped on the floor.
Spy, now on top, was limp for a moment and took a breather. He huffed and puffed, face buried in Engineer’s neck.
“You givin’ up on me?” Engie teased.
“Non,” Spy grumbled. He planted his hands on the thin, dusty office carpet with two thumps, righting himself over the other man. Before he could get fully situated though, Engineer bucked his hips up into Spy, who gasped.
As they worked their pelvises against each other Spy released involuntary moans– well, more like whines. The breathy noises were absolutely doing something for Engineer under him, but he also couldn’t suppress a grin. Spy, Mr. Smooth Operator, international and professional lover, could hardly contain himself as they dry humped like teens at a highschool makeout point. Go figure.
Spy stopped to continue kissing Engie’s face, migrating down his neck. His teeth and tongue involved themselves in intervals, sloppy and drunken. He suddenly reared up, sitting back on his haunches and practically tore down Engie’s overall straps before struggling desperately with the buttons on his undershirt. He finally got enough to tear it open and descended on his torso, face buried in his chest hair.
The way his breathing got heavier and the extremeness with which he kissed his pecks, sharp nose buried in the thick, brown curls made it clear to Engie that no, he wasn’t crazy– the sideways glances and even the stares when he had the top buttons of his shirt undone, or the time they all went swimming in the Tuefort creek were real. Spy rubbed his face against the hair with the desperation of someone who had imagined the scenario, who had been waiting. And Engineer’s satisfaction about that was immense.
Finally Spy’s face made its way down to Engineer’s belly and stopped. He craned his neck to face the man under him, breathing heavily. His brain seemed too fried to verbally ask Engineer for what he wanted (though, of course, Engineer could get a pretty good idea of Spy’s excitement by feeling him against his inner thigh).
Engie took Spy’s delicate jaw in his hands. Spy sighed, closing his eyes, looking a bit like someone holding in a sneeze, and Engineer smirked. “I guess I see what you were so worked up about.” Slowly, cruelly, he worked his hand under Spy’s mask, feeling his neck and jawline and Spy shudders involuntarily, whimpering and bucking against Engineer.
“Steuplait,” he whispered, desperately.
Engineer worked his thumb into Spy’s mouth, and, using his other fingers, lightly tugged at the lip of Spy’s mask as if about to remove it. Spy froze, eyes shooting wide open. They stayed frozen like that, until Spy’s face melted into something else. Teeth parted, his eyes twisted into a desperate slant that said: anything. I will let you do anything.
Engineer, having gotten what he wanted, removed his hands from the mask, leaving it on, and grinned. “I think ‘screwdriver’ sounds like a pretty good safeword, don’t you?”
Permission given, Spy shot down Engie’s body, yanking down his overalls the rest of the way, and kneeling to undo his own belt.
20 minutes later, they stumbled back into the party, arms slung around each other. Luckily, they didn’t attract too much attention, as a loud argument was already under way. Somehow, a game of beer pong had gone horribly wrong. All that was left of poor Sniper was a blood splatter across the corner of the table, and accusations and debate over who’s fault it was, and who would go walk him back from the respawn room, and whether he should get another turn flew across the the room between Scout, Medic, and Soldier. To Spy and Engineer this was the funniest thing in the world.
For the rest of the night, Engineer kept expecting Spy to shrug him off, to move on. But he didn’t. Later, he couldn’t remember what they ended up doing about Sniper, or what other conversations he had, or who slept in whose bed. But he would never forget that Spy stayed, leaning into him the whole night.