Work Text:
Scout didn’t know how, but he managed to hold a straight face and attract no attention from passerby as he walked through the base. He reached his bedroom door, unlocked it with his key, and stepped over the threshold. Very calmly, he shut the door behind him and re-engaged the lock.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
That didn’t do shit.
He ran the three steps it took to get from his bedroom door to his little bathroom and flung himself inside. He twisted the sink knob, cupped his hands under the faucet, and assaulted his face with a slap of water. It got his hair and the front of his shirt wet, too, but he didn't care. He gathered more water in his hands and threw it into his face again.
He stared into his reflection’s eyes, hoping he might find some sort of explanation there, but there was nothing to be gained from that. His mouth was slightly agape and his chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. Water dripped from his face and onto the countertop.
What the fuck just happened…?
A trembling hand turned off the sink tap and
(WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED)
reached for the towel hanging from the nearby towel bar. He buried his face in it, groaning into the terrycloth as he rubbed his skin dry.
For whatever reason, he couldn’t stop looking at himself in the mirror. It was almost like the two of them—himself and his reflection—could work this shit out together. Scout tossed the towel to the corner of the bathroom and braced himself against the countertop, boring his eyes into his reflection’s.
What the fuck just happened? he asked himself again.
Sniper just kissed me, he answered.
And I liked it.
I really liked it.
But that was impossible. That’s all there was to it. It was impossible for the simple reason that Scout was madly, madly in love with Miss Pauling. He had loved her from afar for six long, blissful years, and he’d continue to wait for her until the end of time, if he had to. He’d wait as long as she needed him to. And why? Because he loved her.
But I don’t. Not really.
Scout thought about splashing some more water on his face, but all that had really done in the first place was make his shirt damp. Sighing, he reached up and ran a hand through his hair, raking his bangs away from his face. The feeling of Sniper’s lips meshing against his own, the rough hand caressing his cheek, the gentle exhale easing through Sniper’s nose and tickling his face—all of it was still so fresh and raw in his brain. His mind’s eye played the scenario over and over again like a broken record.
No matter what way Scout looked at it, there was no denying the thrill that bloomed in his stomach as Sniper kissed him, no denying that his own lips had pressed against the other man’s with equal enthusiasm, no denying that he found himself wanting more as Sniper pulled away from him.
Still, he denied it.
He stared hard at his reflection. I’m in love with Miss Pauling, though! I love her, I love her!
No I don’t.
One little…kiss…ain’t gonna change the way I feel about her. No way. She means too much to me.
My crush on Miss Pauling ain’t been there for years. I just been tellin’ myself I still like her so I don’t gotta deal with shut up shut up SHUT THE FUCK UP
Somehow in the course of things, he’d left the bathroom and thrown himself onto his bed. He stared up at the ceiling.
God, he was being ridiculous about this. It was just Sniper, for chrissakes. His friend. His pal. Good ol’ Snipes.
So Sniper kissed him. Big deal, right? Shit happens. Next time he ran into Sniper, the two of them would be laughin’ it up about the time they accidentally smooched each other.
Only it hadn’t been an accident. Sniper had very deliberately walked toward Scout, closing the gap between them, and put his hand against Scout’s cheek. He’d looked into Scout’s eyes for a moment before he dipped his head down to kiss him. Scout had known what was coming as soon as he’d felt that hand at his face, and if there had been any doubt, the look in Sniper’s eyes had been further evidence. He’d had plenty of time to pull away if he’d wanted to.
But he hadn’t wanted to.
But I ain’t…y’know. I don’t like dudes.
That ain’t what I was thinkin’ five minutes ago.
As soon as Sniper had broken the kiss with a satisfying chh! sound of wet lips parting, the reality of the situation hit Scout all at once like a sucker-punch to the gut. Next thing he knew, he’d scrambled out of Sniper’s Winnebago and bolted back to the main base as fast as his legs could carry him.
Sniper had laid himself bare, and Scout’s knee-jerk reaction had been to run.
I freaked out. I freaked out bad. I shouldn’t a done it, but I did. Snipes is prob’ly hatin’ my guts right about now. I can’t even…can’t even imagine what he’s thinkin’ right now.
I needa go tell him I’m sorry.
Shit, I dunno if I can even look at him right now, though.
He knew he needed to go back. He needed to get up, go out to Sniper’s camper, and apologize. He could work out his own…feelings, or whatever…later. If nothing else, Sniper was a good friend, a friend he’d hate to lose. And you didn’t treat friends like Scout just had and expected them to stick around.
Scout rose from his bed and willed his legs to walk. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, just go, don’t think about it, keep walkin’, don’t think about it.
Outside, the afternoon was giving way to the evening as the sky mellowed, the bugs droned, the frogs chirruped. Scout’s legs carried him across the base’s backyard and over to Sniper’s little corner of the world. Even before Scout reached the Winnebago, he could see Sniper perched atop the camper, facing away from the base.
He stopped a few feet away from the camper. Sniper had excellent ears and paid painstaking attention to his surroundings at all times, so there wasn’t any doubt in Scout’s mind that Sniper had heard him approaching. Be that as it may, the man atop the Winnebago was as still as a statue, making no indication that he’d sensed anyone.
“Snipes?” Scout called. “Can…can I come up?”
Sniper still didn’t turn to face him.
“Yeah.”
Scout felt a pang of guilt at the hollowness in the other man’s voice. He’d never heard Sniper sound like that before.
God, what’m I even gonna say to him?
He didn’t know what he’d say, but he climbed up the metal ladder bolted to the back of the camper and made his way to the roof.
Sniper sat cross-legged with a bag of sunflower seeds balanced on one of his knees. He’d been off cigarettes for nearly three months, and the sunflower seeds helped him cope with the lack of nicotine in his system. As Scout approached him, Sniper spit a striped shell over the edge of the camper.
Please look at me.
Sniper didn’t look at him.
Shit.
Scout sat down next to him—probably a little closer than he should’ve, given the circumstances—and racked his brain for something to say. Well, he’d come here to apologize, didn’t he? Maybe he should start with that.
“I’m sorry,” Scout mumbled into the desert wind.
“’S fine,” Sniper grumbled in reply.
Scout shook his head. “No it ain’t. I…”
As he tried to come up with the words, Scout fixed his eyes on a scrub tree in the near distance, its leaves twitching in the breeze. A few beats of silence passed before he spoke again.
“I dunno what I was thinkin’. Y’know, runnin’ outta there like that. I panicked, I guess, or…” He shrugged. “I dunno. I’m sorry.”
Sniper plucked a sunflower seed from the bag and placed it in his mouth. He sucked at it awhile, then said, “Suppose I shouldn’t have, er…surprised you like that, either.”
“Nah, it ain’t your fault,” Scout said quickly. “I saw it comin’, I knew you was gonna…”
(kiss me)
“…I knew what you was about to do. If I hadn’t wanted ya to…”
(kiss me)
“…to do that, I coulda stopped you.”
Sniper looked down at Scout with inquisitive eyes. Scout tipped his head up to meet the other man’s gaze.
“You knew I was about to kiss you, then?” Sniper asked him, his voice low and almost gentle.
“Yeah, I guess,” Scout said. “You leaned in all slow and shut your eyes a little and stuff.”
“And…you wanted me to kiss you?”
Scout felt his cheeks redden. “I…”
Don’t lie.
Scout nodded slightly. “Yeah.”
When he heard Scout’s answer, the corners of Sniper’s mouth twitched upward. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was getting there. This tiny sign of approval put Scout a little more at ease.
“So, you knew I was gonna kiss you…and you wanted me to kiss you,” Sniper said, his not-smile widening into an almost-grin.
Scout couldn’t help but give a sheepish smile of his own. “Yeah.”
“And then, when I did…” Sniper spat another shell over the camper’s edge, then fixed his eyes back on Scout’s. “…You turned ‘round and ran off.”
“It don’t make sense to me, either,” Scout said. “I dunno why I did that. I guess my brain short-circuited, or sum’n, and I didn’t know what to do, so I just…ran.”
Sniper seemed to consider this. “Have you ever kissed a bloke before, Scout?”
Scout’s chest tightened. His mind conjured a mishmash of memories—upper arms dotted in freckles, a head of coppery hair, a tinkling laugh punctuated with a snort…nervous hands grabbing a fistful of Scout’s baseball jersey and pulling him close, lips crashing together in a fit of wanting, a hand still gritty with dirt gripping the nape of his neck—
“Yeah,” Scout murmured. “This one guy, he…well, anyway, I kissed a dude before.” He chewed at his bottom lip.
Sniper hummed through his nostrils in thought. “Thought you might’ve run off ‘cause you’d never been kissed by a bloke, but that ain’t it, then, is it?”
“I just wigged out,” Scout assured him. “I’m an idiot.”
Just then, Scout felt the tiniest bit of pressure and the faintest hint of warmth against the pinkie finger on his right hand. He looked down. Sniper’s pinkie finger rested atop his own.
“So you don’t hate me, then,” Sniper said.
Scout broke the contact between their two pinkie fingers, only to clasp his entire hand around Sniper’s. “‘Course I don’t, Snipes. Do—do ya hate me?”
That garnered a little chuckle from Sniper. “I suppose not.”
A few beats of silence passed where Sniper’s brow was slightly furrowed and he seemed to be studying the look in Scout’s eyes. “But…I would like the opportunity to kiss you proper. If that’s alright.”
Scout gave Sniper’s hand a squeeze. For once, he was at a loss for words. Well, most words.
“Okay.”
“You’re sure,” Sniper said, phrasing it like a question.
“And I promise I won’t run away this time.” With his free hand, he held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
Sniper shook his head at the horrendous pun, but he was smiling all the same. Scout was still fixated on that gorgeous smile when those lips pressed against his own. A hand came up to caress his face just as a tongue ran the length of his bottom lip, enticing him to open his mouth.
So he did.
Sniper’s mouth was salty from he sunflower seeds, but there was another flavor underneath that one, something savory. Coffee, probably. Coffee and sunflower seeds were his go-to crutches when he was really jonesing for a smoke. Scout hoped his own mouth tasted alright. He brushed his teeth this morning, maybe it’d be okay.
He moved his hands up to grip Sniper’s shoulders as their kiss alternated between a lingering meshing of lips and a languid slipping of tongues. It seemed like far too soon entirely when Sniper pulled away from him, breaking the connection.
Scout was a little breathless as he said, “so that’s how they do it Down Under, huh?”
“Bet you’ve never been French kissed by an Australian, yeah?” Sniper grinned.
“I have now,” Scout said with a wicked smile.
Briefly, Sniper turned away from Scout to grab his bag of sunflower seeds. He inserted one into his mouth, then held the bag out to Scout.
“Sunflower seed?” Sniper offered.
Scout reached into the bag and took a generous handful for himself, putting five or six of them into his mouth. Off in the distance, Scout saw something wriggling its way across the dusty, cracked clay they called a backyard. Probably a—
“Diamondback rattlesnake,” Sniper said, pointing.
Of course Snipes would know what kind of snake that was from this far away. Scout wouldn’t even know what kind it was if it literally bit him on the ass. Just one of the things he loved about Sniper.
Loved…
Uh, he’d pretend he didn't hear himself saying that last part. For now, anyways.
He scooted closer to Sniper and leaned his head against the man’s shoulder, sucking on seeds and watching the snake slither across the desert. Maybe not the most romantic setting in the world, but it was oddly fitting for the two of them.
He and Sniper both spat a shell over the edge of the Winnebago at the same time. Their seeds managed to hit one another in midair, congealing together with their spit as they fell to the ground.
They both laughed.