Chapter Text
Sniper slammed the base door shut behind himself as he shuffled inside. He’d just fled from his RV, making a break for the base in hopes to escape the cold. Shivers ran up and down his spine as he made his way into the short hall where the team kept their shoes and coats in a giant, unorganized heap. Sniper hugged his arms tightly around himself in a fruitless attempt to stay warm and began toeing off his boots. As he did Engineer happened to pass by.
“Howdy, Slim!” Engi called out with a smile. “Did the cold finally get the best of yah?” He asked cheerfully, coming to stand beside Sniper. He wrapped his tail around Sniper’s arm to steady the marksman as he wiggled out of his remaining boot.
“Y-yeah,” Sniper replied, the chill that still clung to him making him stutter.
Engineer chuckled softly as he drew Sniper into a side hug, trying to share some of his heat with the Australian. “You’d better not let Doc hear, he’ll have you moved into base before sundown.”
“Gaahh, don’t remoind me,” Sniper grumbled in response, turning to accept Engi’s offer of warmth once he kicked his boots off to the side and out of the path of the door.
Every year when fall turned to winter on base Medic and Sniper got into the same argument about how soon Sniper should have to move into base. Ever since the year Sniper had given himself carbon monoxide poisoning from running his RV’s heating system too high for too long Medic would force him to move into his usually vacant room on base for the coldest nights of the year. Sniper, ever the recluse, wasn’t particularly fond of living in the base with the rest of his team. From Soldier’s daily bugle call at ungodly hours of the morning to Medic and Heavy’s definitely not quiet trysts most evenings it was safe to say that Sniper much preferred his teammates as neighbors rather than roommates. He knew in all reality that Medic was just doing his due diligence to keep his team healthy and well rested for the day’s battles. But, if you asked Sniper, he slept much better freezing his ass off, half way high on toxic fumes in his van than any night spent on base.
“You should go warm up in the common room, Py’ has a mighty impressive fire goin’,” Engineer suggested with a soft pat on Sniper’s back. “Oh, and Heavy’s making dinner tonight so expect somethin’ warm, traditional and fillin’,” he added with a chuckle, “see you at dinner, partner.” Engi said, waving as he rounded the corner and slipped out of view.
“See ya then, mate.” Sniper called out after him before heading in the direction of the common room.
Engi hadn’t been lying about the fire, Sniper could feel its wafting heat before he even entered the common room. When he stepped inside he took stock of all who were lounging about. Scout sat on the carpet floor in front of the couch, silent for once as he was totally transfixed by the baseball game that was playing on their tiny box tv. His bucked teeth poked out of his agape mouth as he watched the players run around the field with awe.
Directly behind him on the couch sat Soldier. He was bent over, running a fine tooth comb through Scout's slightly damp hair. It was hard to tell since Scout usually covered his hair with a hat but it seemed that Soldier had given him a haircut earlier in the day. After all, Soldier was the designated barber on the team and was surprisingly competent at it. The only downside being that Sniper had to periodically fight him off to keep his mullet intact. Or as Soldier put it, his “hippie haircut.”
Beside Soldier on the couch lay Demoman, his head cradled in the patriot’s lap. As per usual he was black out drunk, deep in slumber, and snoring away. His empty bottle of Scrumpy lay abandoned beside Scout on the ground.
Away from the rest of the group was Pyro. She lay on his stomach, head cradled in their hands as she gazed into the crackling flames of the fire he had built, legs kicking gleefully all the while.
When Sniper walked further into the room he was greeted by its inhabitants.
“Good afternoon, Sheila!” Soldier barked, the degrading nickname said with nothing but affection and a bright smile.
“‘Sup, Snipes,” Scout muttered, not taking his eyes off the game in front of him, blindly waving in Sniper’s general direction.
“G’day, mates,” Sniper replied with the tip of his hat as he made his way to Pyro’s side and closer to the fireplace. He nudged Pyro’s shoulder gently with his leg to get her attention. He was sure they were deep in PyroLand and didn’t want to startle him by accident, nothing good had ever come of startling the firecracker.
Eventually Pyro lifted his gaze away from the flames to look at Sniper, suddenly aware of his presence she waved emphatically at the sharpshooter. Sniper reciprocated the greeting before asking, “moind if oi join ya?”
Pyro nodded excitedly with a muffled giggle. They reared up to sit crisscrossed before stretching out her arms towards Sniper, motioning for him to come sit in his lap. Sniper did just that, lowering himself down with a groan as his joints, stiff from the cold, protested. Pyro wrapped her arms emphatically around Sniper’s waist and hooked their chin over Sniper’s shoulder, nuzzling his mask against the side of Sniper’s face affectionately.
Pyro leaned back just enough to press the flat nose of their mask filter to Sniper’s stubble covered cheek, making a muffled “mwah” sound as she did, giggling jovially afterwards. Sniper couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle of his own at Pyro’s unbridled glee. It was hard to picture the time years back when Sniper and the rest of the team had been afraid to interact with Pyro. Now he couldn’t imagine going a day without seeing him press one of her pretend kisses to a teammate’s cheek or wrap someone up in a celebratory hug.
Sniper let out a sigh as he relaxed into Pyro’s hold, enjoying the waves of warmth that emanated off the fire and his friend’s comforting embrace. He could hear Scout’s commentary on the game just behind him, as well as Demo’s soft snoring. Sniper most preferred company like this, he didn’t have to hold a conversation or maintain eye contact. All he had to do was enjoy the solace of knowing he wasn’t alone.
Before long Scout was shouting at the screen as the game had apparently taken an unexpected turn. If Sniper was being honest he couldn’t understand half of the things Scout was yelling and he wasn’t quite sure if that was due to the unfamiliar terminology or his thick accent.
Sniper listened with only mild interest as a scuffle broke out between Scout and Soldier, a very regular occurrence on base, with the patriot trying to wrestle a riled up Scout into sitting still again so he could continue to comb his hair. Oftentimes Soldier would instigate fights with Scout if he was bored or wanted to blow off some energy in a wrestling match, knowing well that the kid would take up any challenge without thinking twice.
“Will yah cut it out, Solly!? Yah gonna make me miss dah pitch!” Scout spat indignantly, trying to writhe his way out of Soldier’s grasp.
“The only thing I will be cutting out is your hair! Clearly you are undeserving of it if you will not at least allow me to groom it properly!” Soldier barked back as he tightened his chokehold on Scout.
“You’ve been combin’ ma frickin’ hair for dah past thirty minutes, man, I’m pretty sure it’s fine!”
“No, it is not!!”
“Enough bickering, leetle babies,” A new voice suddenly cut through the noise of the two’s arguing. From the deep tone alone Sniper could tell it was their resident Russian, but he still cast a look over Pyro’s shoulder to see for himself anyway.
“Is no need for fight.” Heavy said chidingly, his arms crossed over his chest in disapproval. Scout and Soldier grumbled and reluctantly released each other, Scout gasping a little for breath once he was free from Soldier’s chokehold.
“Good.” Heavy said with a short nod of approval, “Krolik, turn down tv, Heavy can not hear own thoughts.” The Russian ordered. Scout huffed with an eyeroll, but complied, knowing well not to argue with Heavy when the bear wasn’t in the mood.
“Now, have any of you seen Sniper? Leetle man was not in van.” Heavy asked.
Sniper startled a little hearing his own name, he’d expected Heavy to break up Soldier and Scout’s fighting for the sake of sparing the base some noise pollution, but this was unexpected.
“Oooh, Snipes is in trouble,” Scout sing-songed as he pointed in Sniper’s direction with Soldier doing the same.
“Put a sock in it, Roo,” Sniper shot back lightly, trying to mask his fear that he’d actually done something to get on Heavy’s bad side. It was decidedly a bad place to be. He peered from behind Pyro’s still form. They were so deeply entranced by the fire that she hadn’t even noticed Scout and Soldier’s scuffle, or that Heavy had entered the room.
“Oh! There is leetle Sniper, Heavy wanted to ask favor,” Heavy explained, a soft smile overcoming his grumpy expression as soon as he spotted the man.
“Wot is it, mate?” Sniper asked though a subtle sigh of relief.
“Wanted to know if Sniper could hunt krolik for dinner tonight?” Heavy stated the request simply, mouth already watering at the thought. Unbeknownst to him the room had fallen silent in quiet horror.
“Dude, yah seriously need tah stawp takin’ Doc’s recipe recommendations,” Scout said with a terrified look on his face.
“What, what did Heavy say?” He asked a little worriedly. There were times in the past that misspeaking on Heavy’s part had ended in some unfortunate outcomes. Usually on the battlefield, but most notable was the time he accidentally called Medic a slut instead of a slob. That night spent on the common room couch was far from pleasant.
“Lemme just claroify,” Sniper started after finally picking his jaw up, off the floor, “ya want me to hunt Scout for dinner?” He asked cautiously, afraid to be correct.
“What!? No!” Heavy stuttered out, befuddled. Puzzled over how his team could come to such an insane conclusion. It dawned on him that he’d never clarified to them what the word he’d used to refer to Scout over the past few years actually meant.
“Word means… means…” Heavy trailed off as he tried to recall the English word in his head. The team called Scout by the nickname all the time, but in their native languages, making it even harder to recall when his brain was supplying him with the term in German, Gaelic and French.
Heavy’s floundering was soon cut short by a new voice, filled to the brim with amusement and swathed in a thick accent.
“Ze term ‘krolik’ means rabbit,” Spy mustered through snorts of laughter. Appearing in an armchair adjacent from the couch in a plume of red smoke, presumably having listened in on the whole conversation. He had a habit of staying cloaked on base so he could follow and observe his teammates as he pleased.
“it iz only a nickname for ze Scout.” The Frenchman said through laughter, “‘eavy does not want to devour our runner, though if ‘e did I doubt our beloved fat man would be satisfied by ze scrawny little thing!” Spy busted out laughing again, unable to contain the occasional snort.
“Go tah hell, Pa! I could feed dis whole team for a month wit dese guns alone,” Scout claimed haughtily, flexing his arms for emphasis. Quickly changing from being horrified at the thought of being cannibalized to endorsing it at Spy’s goading alone.
“So help me God if you do not settle, boy, I will turn you into an MRE and feed you to my raccoon army!!” Soldier snapped, going straight back to the argument that Heavy had put a stop to earlier. Wholly uninterested in debating whether Scout would make an adequate food source or not.
“Like hell yah will!” Scout bit back, reeling around to provoke Solly instead of his father; sticking his tongue out at the patriot just to further irritate him. Apparently that was enough to set Soldier off completely with the man lunging forward to tackle the runner to the ground.