Chapter Text
Hadn’t that been the way it always started?
Familiar smooth voice counting down, and the day would begin with a gong.
The RED Sniper had already found his way to a good spot to blow some heads off. He made himself comfortable in the little roost. It was among the choicier ones, where he had a small stash of food and even a blanket draped on the crates sharing the space with him.
He peered through his scope, checking out where the battle had begun. It would likely be a bit of time before the BLUs were able to push forward far enough to force him to move. Hopefully, his team would do their job well enough to prevent that from happening.
Sniper took a few shots with the rifle, and slowly grew bored as nothing progressed in an interesting manner. He got a bit more reckless, shooting to startle his prey before making a kill.
The Sniper was rewarded by two clouds of fine red mist and a spray of bullets over his head. He dropped to the floor, cursing colourfully. There was no followup; his attacker had shifted their attention. Slowly, he returned to his spot.
The fray was advancing, slowly but surely. He took a shot at the BLU Scout’s head and missed, nicking his shoulder instead. The runner cursed, turning around and firing his scattergun.
The direction of the wind shifted, and it blew in a faint scent. Unmistakably, it was cigarette smoke. There was a faint whoosh that he had heard many times in the past and dismissed to the wind or battle. It often resulted in his death. The sound of uncloaking.
With a growl, the Sniper whipped around and grabbed Spy’s arm, throwing him to the floor. The marksman pinned him down with a growl, one of his gloved hands wrapping around both of the other’s wrists as he sat down on Spy’s lap. He turned away, almost as if ashamed he’d been overpowered so quickly.
Sniper cocked his head slightly, and gave a half-smirk. It was beyond satisfying feeling his enemy squirm beneath him. He was more than used to waking up in respawn with a sore spot in his back and a scowl upon memory of his death. But now he had the advantage. It was likely that nobody else would get to witness his victory; a shame, really.
“Make it quick, bushman.” Spy muttered. Sniper rolled his eyes, and lightened the pressure on him as he reached for his kukri with his free hand.
He gave it a teasing little twirl in front of Spy’s face. Sniper leaned in. “Even polished it for ya. Been waitin’ ta run ya through with it.” he murmured.
Spy said nothing, though Sniper could register a flicker of surprise as he studied the man under him with curiosity. Spy would’ve almost been flattered, if his expression hadn’t been so predatory. And hungry.
He felt the cold press of the blade under his chin, tilting his head up. Spy was quiet when he finally spoke. “Razher intimate, don’t you zhink? It is not really zhe same as your usual kills. From so far away.”
Sniper’s face reddened. There was definitely an implication in the tone of the Spy’s voice. It was a low, tantalizing purr, a sound at stark contrast with his usual battlefield taunts and insults.
Neither of them said anything for a moment as they watched each other. Predator and prey. Cat and mouse. Sniper realized he was still hunched over close to Spy’s face, and backed up. Spy chuckled softly in amusement.
“Shut it, spook.” Sniper muttered, lifting his kukri and shoving it back down onto Spy’s neck with as much force as he could muster.
He got up, and the lingering heat and memory of the Spy’s body wouldn’t leave him. Nor would the sight of the Spy smiling, just the slightest bit. But it was a real smile, and even as Sniper settled back down on his chair and surveyed the battlefield through his scope, he couldn’t help but smile himself.