Chapter Text
Spy walked to the marksman’s camper van. The dim light from inside shone through the dusty windowpanes, casting long shadows of the French's figure onto the ground. He rested his head on the door, making a small thud that was barely noticeable enough to startle the man inside the van.
For the past few days, he had been going back and forth to Sniper’s place, only to leave before he could even bring himself to knock on the damn door. His pride kept him from feeling any bits of guilt. No, he wasn’t doing it because he felt like he was in the wrong, but rather to try to stay on good terms with Sniper and keep it professional, like how it was supposed to be, between him and his colleague. Not some kind of ‘special treatment’ for Sniper, Spy insisted. Had it been anyone else, except for Scout, he would have done the same thing: try to sort things out so that there would be no hard feelings, no loose ends that could interfere with the business.
Right. This had just about nothing to do with their interpersonal connection. Merely professionalism.
The sound of the light switching off brought him back to reality. His surroundings, without the flickering light from the camper van, were once again filled with darkness, with just a few stars visible to the bare eyes giving Spy enough light to navigate his way back to the base.
It should have been his cue to leave. But he lingered.
There was something more than just “trying to stay on good terms and keep it professional”.
Still leaning against the van’s door, he took a cigarette from the disguise kit. Never in his entire life had he thought that some day he wouldn’t be able to enjoy a cigarette, but it tasted incredibly bland and flavorless. Almost like he wasn’t smoking a cigarette but it was his own poignant, withered soul that was kept between his clenching teeth.
He was nothing but a man of pride.
It kept him from knocking. It sealed his mouth shut. It forced him to pretend that whatever existed between him and the team’s marksman was trivial enough to ignore. Not until those feelings had grown into something unbearable, something strong enough to fight back against the ugly pride that had consumed every atom of his being, did he realise that he could no longer deny them.
The aftertaste was more bitter than usual.