#i want to jam out to ode to sleep and my blood and the outside with someone

[re-decorate]

alright who’s gonna come over and listen to the pilots’ entire discography with me

[preciousrichard-blog]

Second Thoughts, Second Chances (Sniper/Spy)

Chapter 6: Exclusive Deal

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9419246/chapters/22136723

Rating: Teen+

Chapter Summary: It’s been a week of deliberation for Sniper and a week of anticipation for Spy. The answer Sniper has for the BLU assassin wasn’t exactly what he was expecting.

Most people never realize they're dreaming when they are. But right now Spy knew he was, as he stood outside of a house that belonged in his past. It was set among a landscape of decrepit industrial buildings and barbed wire fences. Ivy wove along the arbor to the front door, and the window shutters were pushed open, crisp white against the soft sea green of the exterior. It was a home that looked so obviously out of place in the middle of that dirt and concrete complex that Spy was sure he was not in the waking world. His mind, half victim to the logic of a sleeping man, led him through the door and across the threshold. He called out her name, he knew she lived there. And her youthful body appeared behind him, somehow not startling him when he turned around. He looked down at her, beautiful blonde hair fixed in place and painted lips. She was an ode to youth, but she was crying. Spy felt bewildered, he'd done this before. He placed his hands on her shoulders and she collapsed into his chest, and vividly he could feel the way her small body trembled against him, soft. 

"I'm sorry..." He said quietly to her, sincerely, and averting his eyes from her form.

"You love your job more than me!" She sobbed, "Don't you love me?"

"I cannot marry you." He replied, a sour taste on his tongue.

"You're a murderer." He heard her say.

When he looked down she was gone, nothing but a space in his arms and the barren wooden floor remained. He looked up again, and a dense cluster of high-rises towered over him. He didn't remember this place, but he moved with the tenacity of someone who knew where he was going. In but a few steps he found himself in the city streets, approaching a hotel front. This place too was from another time, one which Spy could not place a finger upon in his hazy state. He felt desperate with no provocation, and suddenly he was hurrying to the elevator; he pressed the button to the top floor. He was alone with the ghosts of faceless beings playing out their roles as misty patrons and civilians. He reached the top and the doors slid open to a far wall down a decorative hallway. Two mounted lamps hung on either side of an engraved wooden portal. This scene he recognized. 

He looked down at his watch, it was a golden Rolex. His suit was deep gray with a white pocket square, and suddenly he felt nostalgic. He opened the door and entered with purpose, and a man he knew was adjusting his cufflinks before a king sized four post bed. He faced the spy, and looked at him expectantly with an angular, shaven face and fine polished features. Spy felt a bloom of excitement inside himself and approached him, touching his face tenderly.

"Will this take long?" The man asked him rather impatiently, voice like velvet.

Spy's hands froze, and his mind realized what his body was doing. "I'm sorry cher," He said, letting his arms retreat into his sides, "It's just been so long."

"Where have you been? You know we don't have time for this." The man scolded. 

Spy felt like the brittle breaks in a damaged glass pane that radiated out to its edges. The man left the room without a passing glance and with masculine grace reached the doorway. "You have work to do," He said, "save it for later would you?"

When he shut the door and Spy was finished staring, he turned to the bed which was now the only thing in the room, and remembered many nights of sleeping on it. He touched it, and pressed his open palm into the fabric. It gave easily, and he slowly sat on the foot of the mattress. He slouched there, and put his face into his hands. It wasn't enough. Not again, he thought, no one satisfies me - my own unachievable needs. What I want simply doesn't work.

Suddenly he opened his eyes, and although he was sitting on the bed, both were now in the middle of the open desert of the badlands. He saw himself just ahead, hidden behind a lonely bus stop outside of the RED and BLU bases and peering out. He suddenly found himself there, looking out of those eyes, body invisible and tucked away behind cover. He peered, and just beyond his reach was a phone booth and a man grabbing at his brown slouch hat, leaning against the receiver. The RED sniper, his hated nemesis at the time, was making a call in the middle of the desert, and the BLU spy remembered this moment.

"Dad I know. Jus- dad just put mum on the phone alright?" He stammered, looking frustrated.

Spy crept nearer, his dream existence acting on its own in this hazy universe where the ground never met the sky in the distance.

"Hi mum... I'm alright, how've things been?" Sniper continued into the phone, "Yeah- yeah I'm doin' just fine. Really I'm fine. How are you?"

Spy listened to him indulge in familial small talk, and occasionally chuckle at the surely anecdotal humor he must have been sharing. All words slurred in the fog of his dream world, and he could only feel the swirling sensations of fondness and admiration at the tone of his voice and the very private expressions he made to those he held dear.

"Take care mum... I love you too." 

Spy reached out to him when he hung up the phone. Suddenly he wasn't invisible anymore, night had fallen and nothing retained its clarity besides the vivid expression on Sniper's face as Spy leant in and touched his jaw. The sound of a bus arriving and settling with a hiss interrupted his reveries, and as Sniper moved toward him, the bus threw itself into reverse, reverberating an incessant beeping that stole away the sniper's attention. The world fell apart around the spy, and everything faded away to the sound of that beeping. He woke up to his alarm clock with a forceful wave of his arm, slamming his palm on snooze.

He groaned, it just had to be 7 am at the best part. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his tired eyes and ran through the events of his dreams. It wasn't often that he remembered those faces, let alone the words they'd spoken, but Spy figured he should have expected it, because today was going to be the day he'd approach the sniper. Today he planned to ask for his response. It took effort to slide out from his expensive bedding that morning, due to the weight of his unwanted memories.

It had been a week since he offered to be Sniper's lover. The whole exchange felt more sudden now that he looked back on it. He wondered if being forward was the right way to do things, but he knew Sniper was a forward type of man. He smiled at the thought; he didn't need to worry about mind games with him, and that was freeing on its own. Spy spent extra time on himself that day, making sure every bit of him was neat and trim. He even jammed a chair under the bathroom door so he could shower with his mask off in peace. He meticulously shaved and plucked stray eyebrow hairs that plagued him now in his advancing age. He smoothed creamy products into his skin, partaking in the fresh scent and soothing feeling. It was sunny, warm, and the BLU scout was pounding futilely on the door and complaining about the time he was taking. Yes, today felt like it would be a good day. 

Unfortunately during the second match it was already proving not to be. He screamed, holding the stump where his leg had been blown off in a soldier's rocket explosion. He hissed as blood pooled relentlessly under him, and he curled up on his side, taunted by the mocking stupidity of that red-jacketed war hawk. He panted, dying as the blood loss took him. After respawning he discovered the reds had pushed most of the others back entirely and patrolled the exits of the BLU base, not allowing anyone to leave. Things only became increasingly difficult when Spy discovered the RED engineer had somehow coaxed the pyro to spend their entire day beside his sentry. He'd been blown to pieces, shot down by the spray of a heavy's minigun, burnt to a crisp, and struck in the temple by a scouts bat all within a few hours. By the third match he was doing better, however, and was emboldened by BLU team's second wind.

Late into a BLU capture of the fourth point, he felt the searing pain of a bullet in his arm while crossing a clearing. He looked around and saw no one, and thus instinctively lifted his head to the buildings, reminded that he didn't just have work to do today. He spotted the glint of Sniper's lens slink back into a broken window above, and almost felt like he'd been tagged on purpose. If Sniper wanted to kill him, he would have, just like the handfuls of other times that week. He was glad he'd been behaving about as normally as Spy hoped he would since their dinner date. He'd even caught sight of the spy's cloak near a red dispenser and coated him in a jar full of his vile jarate the other day. It effectively gave away his position and cost him twenty minutes worth of work. The sniper had laughed particularly hard that time at Spy's repulsed howls of protest. But ultimately things seemed to be going smoothly, and Spy decided it was about time to pay the Aussie a visit before the last match ended.

Spy was not one to give in to nerves. He'd been in more confrontations in all his years than even the most aggressive of common men. But excitement was different. A man like Spy was rarely treated to anything worth getting excited about. At most perhaps a new blade or revolver to wield, or a new line of suits from his favorite designer, but all were short lived. One can only imagine how electrifying it was for him to find his body shivering with energy he hadn't known since his youth. Whereas most men might falter at the possibility of rejection, Spy was a man who did not know it. He chose his battles carefully, and calculated every move before making them. As a result, those he'd chased in his eternal hunt for romance had always indulged his advances. In the simplest terms, he was far too sure of himself and too used to getting what he wanted to imagine the sniper might reject him. After all, who in their right mind would deny Spy once he was, in his entirety, determined to capture their heart? He made his way across the fourth point, fully put together and straightening himself still. He hugged the wall as the RED pyro and scout ran past, pushing forward back to mid. It appeared BLU was losing a bit of ground, but a move back to the central point would be exactly what Spy could use. Disguising as his red counterpart, he gagged to himself at the color of the burgundy suit, then crept along toward the windowed room where he'd seen the sniper last. A devilish smile pulled his face and blood rushed through his veins. 

Sniper hadn't spoken a word to Spy all week. At most he'd laughed when the man hollered curses at being soaked in jarate a day or so ago. But then again it was funny when he nailed anyone with those. He'd spent the better part of his days trying to behave as normally as he could while sorting out the turmoil in his feelings. He lost track of how many times he'd zoned out in the middle of the day while daydreaming about outcomes or possibilities. He was never good with emotions, and found that when he didn't stifle them immediately they would deny him all peace. It was too late to go back to how he was before though, he was too deep into his growing infatuations to just pretend they'd never happened. He knew that whatever he chose to do, he and the BLU spy would be different afterwards, and it scared him. He'd never had to deal with so many different desires at once in all his life, and he certainly didn’t want to lose a friend.

He'd tagged the Spy when he saw him. He hoped it would bring him by. After days of deliberation and coming to terms, Sniper at last thought he had the closest thing to an answer he could come up with. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't practice what he wanted to say for hours on end in his room, giving up in frustration only to return to the task more than once. I wanna be... He thought, snuffing out the word loved for anything else, Everyone wants to be special to someone, but I've hid from it my whole life. He squeezed the fore-stock and grip of his rifle in his hands, feeling suddenly how alone he was in that dark little room, Then here's Spy who goes out of his way to hunt me down. His thoughts were interrupted by a creak in the wooden boards behind him, and his heart dropped as he swiveled around. He put his gun down beside himself and grabbed for his kukri, brandishing it defensively. He watched as a startled RED spy entered through the doorway, and Sniper warily raised his blade higher. The smell of rich oak and herbs crossed over to him, stronger than usual, and he tilted his head accusingly.

"I know it's you." He said, body still.

The RED spy raised his palms slightly, "Of course, I wasn't trying very hard." And following those words the fizzle of his disguise dissipating filled the space between them, and he was back to his usual deep blue ensemble. 

"You haven't paid my back a visit all day." Sniper offered, feeling more awkward the more he stood motionless. 

"Because I am feeling up for a chat today." Spy smiled, looking down at the large blade then into Sniper's eyes.

Sniper sighed, seeing the flickering honesty in Spy's eyes and lowering his weapon. "...Alright." He offered after a moment.

"Were you going to kill me with that thing?" Spy asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Well- have to don't I? If I wanna live." Sniper replied awkwardly, casting a look down at the large knife and feeling a twinge of discomfort at having to drive it through the spy with his own hands one day.

Spy noted his expression, and softened, "Would you feel bad?" 

Sniper clenched his fists and swallowed, gory images crossing his thoughts, "I'd get over it."

Spy blinked at that and smiled knowingly, looking over the man, "Yes... I imagine you would."

Sniper stood there feeling like a deer in the headlights of what he knew was coming. He put his kukri down stiffly beside his rifle and straightened. "I wanted to talk to ya too..."

"Did you?" Spy smiled.

Sniper swallowed again, "Yeah. About what you sai-" Before he could finish his sentence he was being pulled forward by the collar. "Wha- Spy!" He argued, stumbling as he tried to catch the rhythm of Spy's footing.

"Quiet, unless you want to be caught." Spy offered with hushed voice as he dragged the man into the hall and toward a secured looking door that warned [DO NOT ENTER.]

Sniper grew panicked being outside of his nest, eyes scanning the corners and hall for others that the emboldened spy didn't seem to be concerned about. "Where are we going?" He hissed quietly.

"Somewhere private." Spy replied casually, letting go of Sniper to jam something in his hand between the door and the wall, working it inside and then using his body weight to drive his shoulder into the door. It swung open to reveal nothing more than a spacious storeroom of shelves with an abandoned table and a dusty telephone. He stepped through and held the door, beckoning the other. "Come on." He urged.

Sniper drew in his shoulders as he quickly slipped through and Spy closed the exit behind them, locking it with a click. He turned to the spy and gave him a surprised look, "Well, it sure is private..." Sniper said uncertainly.

Spy chuckled at him, and strolled past to take a seat on a questionably stable swivel chair he pulled out from behind the table. "About what I said." He took out his disguise kit and pulled a cigarette free, "You have an answer for me perhaps?" He smiled, lighting it and taking a few drags. He daintily let it burn away between his fingers as he placed his hands over his crossed knees. 

He watched Sniper stiffen, looking increasingly interested in anything else in the room besides Spy. He fidgeted with his hands before putting them in his pockets. "Uh, yeah. I think so, mate."

Spy fought the unconscious need to lean in, trying his best not to look as impatient as he felt, "I'm all ears." 

"Spy..." Sniper began, looking him in the eye, "I been thinkin' long n'hard about what you asked me." His heart began to pound.

Spy smiled, and raised his eyebrows. He was charmed by all the effort the man seemed to be exuding.

"And I decided... I can't be yours."

Once, years ago, Spy had been struck by a freight train as it was unfortunately crossing the path he was taking on a mission with BLU. In this moment, it didn't even seem to compare. Spy dropped his cigarette, and it smoldered on the floor beside his shoes. His face had fallen from his initial confidence, to confusion, to downright devastation.  

"I can't. I just can't do that." Sniper continued, having averted his eyes to his shoes, unable to see the man wilt before him. "Listen, I can't give myself to ya... I'm me own person. I love bein' who I am. I don't think I have... Hell, I don't think I got the patience to take being a thing that belongs to you. I don't want that at all."

Spy couldn't believe his ears. His eyes had gone wild, this couldn't be happening. His heart drummed in his ears, this wasn't how things were supposed to go. He was careful, he was methodical and devoted, he was sure he read the signs right - he'd seen them so many times before. Spy began to stand, he felt off balance. "Sniper, I-"

"I'm not done." Sniper asserted, and Spy was suddenly knocked back into his seat by the force of words alone.

"I don't wanna be yers." He reiterated, "But..." He looked up to meet a bereft and disheveled looking Spy he'd never seen before in all his years with RED, and his heart clenched tightly, "I've considered what I feel about ya... And I think... Well, I think I think I'd be pretty happy to share a part'a meself with uh, you, specially..." He quickly turned his head at the burning heat spreading up from his neck, "If you share the the same amount'a yerself with me that is... Specially..." He could feel sweat coating his palms. "Bloody hell I know it's a round'a'bout way'a sayin' it but I- well I just don't wanna belong to ya. And- and I don't wanna own you neither.” He felt the following short silence like it was minutes long and added,  “If you can put up with me then hell, I'll have a go at bein' with you... Er... Exclusively...” He kicked his heel into the floor, “You miss every shot ya don't take right?"

Spy was silent, the air nearly knocked from his lungs. He felt warmth unfold across his face and chest and overwhelming relief burned at his eyes. He was lightheaded, and drew his knuckles up to cover his lips, unsure of what else to physically do with himself. Sniper looked up at him with all the vulnerability of a man who'd spilt his heart out. 

"Well?" Sniper asked. But Spy remained silent. "Spy?" He implored again, now with worry, but Spy merely stared at the floor. "Say something..." He urged, aggravation seeping into his tone at the man's silence, but receiving nothing, "Spy... If you don't bloody answer me I'll shake it out of you." He threatened and at last the spy looked up to meet his eyes. 

Sniper was bewildered when he got a good look at the man in blue, and Spy knew it was likely because he definitely looked as smitten as he felt. Sniper's lips were parted, frozen mid-speech as Spy rose weakly from his seat. It creaked, and he left his cigarette to burn away on the floorboards. Sniper stepped back as the man approached him. He's going to kiss me, he thought, and prepared himself for such, but the kiss never came. Instead their mouths passed each other as Spy rested his head into the side of Sniper's and wrapped his arms tightly around his body. The Aussie froze as Spy hugged him closely, nearly every part of his well dressed form pressing warmly into the sniper's own. He gawked, his heart thundering as he pondered just what he could be thinking. 

"Are... Y'alright mate?" Sniper breathed, thinking the air felt thicker somehow. He felt Spy squeeze him in response. "Sorry, fer ramblin' like a fool." He offered, unsure what else to say.  

"Nonsense." Spy whispered to him, close enough to his ear that it sent unfamiliar electrifying shivers down Sniper's spine. Spy pulled back and held the man's waist in his hands, "I much prefer the way you put it."

When Spy looked up with a hopeless smile and the happiest eyes Sniper thought he'd ever seen, something struck him, and it felt different than anything he'd ever experienced. "What... Do I do?" Sniper asked, the words leaving him before he could assess that they were in fact, lame. 

Spy grasped his arms, moving them, and Sniper didn't protest. His heart flipped as they were dragged around Spy's waist and hips, and he instinctively locked his hands together around him. He could have sworn he was nearly out of his body when Spy pressed their hips closer and touched at his shoulders with explorative hands. 

"Kiss me." He cooed, a gravel accent in his tone. "Prove that you mean what you've said."

Sniper shuddered, "What do ya take me for? Some flake who can't keep his word?" 

"Prove it."

Sniper looked at him sternly; ready to rise up to his challenge. But the confidence didn't last when Spy parted his lips and beckoned him with dark and half lidded eyes. He felt himself giving into his nerves, and pressed forward slowly, tentatively, until he'd shut his eyes completely and pushed their lips together. The sensations flowed through him, and without thinking he tightened his hold on the spy, pressing harder still into the energy of his kiss.

Spy held back a smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. Oh, the sniper was clumsy, and oh he was desperate and chaste. But it was easily the most memorable of kisses he'd ever shared. He could feel his lips tremble against his own, and he gripped the man's shoulders tighter, digging in just to keep from losing himself and breaking all the walls down at once. He's not very good at this, Spy thought, but oh I just know it's real. He pulled back, just a bit, just enough to make the sniper wonder. Then just like that took back control, slipping Sniper's bottom lip between his own, sucking gently and smoothly and coming back for more, pressing his teeth into the supple flesh, and pulling a quiet sound from the Australian who held him. Sniper went weak at the nipping and gave way, pulling them both down toward the floor to both of their surprise.

Sniper broke the kiss and his hold on the other to catch himself as they fumbled, but Spy seemed to move like liquid into the motion and slid effortlessly over him, leaning in with wet lips and rosy skin. Sniper looked sheepish, "Your suit'll get dirty down here-" He warned, feeling too familiar with Spy’s insurmountable tidiness. 

"Please Bushman, I don't care right now." He rumbled back with a greedy glint in his eyes.

That's new. Sniper reeled, "You seem happy." He panted quietly, and Spy lit up at him, staring with a surprised smile before chuckling and pressing him further into the floor.

Spy softened as his body closed in. "Aren't you?" He asked, but Sniper scoffed and looked away instead of answering. Spy laughed smoothly in his throat, "There's no need to be so nervous, Sniper." He mewled, "I'm just a person." 

Sniper regarded him seriously at that, and recalled the way Spy looked in the dull glow of the restaurant lights just a week ago. Spy watched him with sympathetic and precise eyes, but he looked away, down at the space between them, all curves and lines and bunched up fabric, and Spy leaning neatly between his spread thighs.

"We're just people huh...?" He said quietly and Spy kissed him again.

They talked a long while in that dark and dusty room, even when the announcer declared BLU's victory, even when the battle outside went quiet for the day, and even when the last rays of sunlight began to hide over the mountains. They spoke of Sniper's reservations about shooting the spy, and the professionalism with which they were to approach the next day. They spoke of agreements, mostly of keeping work and privacy as different realms in their minds. No one came looking for them and nothing but the chill of night settling into their bones would move them. As the twilight befell the silent battlefield, they sat beside each other against a wall. Only the dim light of a high placed window revealed their forms pressed together shoulder to shoulder.

"How do you do it Spy?" Sniper asked him.

"Do what, exactly?"

"Kill me n' not feel... Bad."

Spy snapped his head over to stare the man down, "You think I do not feel bad?" But Sniper gave him a perplexed look. Spy sighed, but bounced back with a confessing smirk, "Of course I feel bad. If I could, I would much prefer not to kill you. But work is work mon ami, and as long as you don't hold a grudge against me for doing my job, then this is enough for me to get by."

"I see..." Sniper responded thoughtfully, "How long 'till it feels normal then?"

"Not long," Spy assured him, smothering the end of a spent cigarette into a bucket beside him, "you'll find the temporary nature of our deaths here will numb away the regrets in time."

"You felt the same way I do then?"

"I did, and in a way I still do, but we both know there's no reason to dwell upon it." He sighed, lighting another cigarette immediately and taking a particularly long drag.

"This is a little fucked up innit?" Spy heard Sniper mutter beside him, and he raised his eyebrows at the curse and smiled.

He laughed through his nose, "So is this entire God forsaken war, over gravel of all things."

"I s'pose you have a point." Sniper sighed back. 

Spy looked at him fondly, and he turned and looked back. The dark shadows over their faces couldn't hide the mutual expressions they both seemed to be casting at each other.

"If I must be mundanely killed on a daily basis by anyone," Spy cooed, voice lowered as he lifted the filter of his cigarette to Sniper's lips, "I believe I'd prefer it be you."

Sniper looked down curiously at the smoke, then cautiously pulled Spy's hand to his mouth as he took an indulgent drag. "Is that 'coz I'm yer favorite?" He prodded as smoke rose from the words.

Spy merely chuckled at him and returned to smoking, leaning back against the wall and watching the sniper from the side of his vision. He didn’t bother hiding the grin on his face as he filled his lungs with tobacco, and Sniper caught on with a breathy laugh of his own.

He hummed and smiled warmly, "I reckon you're my favorite too."

Spy watched him still, chest rising as he breathed in the nicotine and falling with bellows of smoke from his lips that danced into their demise in the air. He shuffled in the darkening space now aglow with the artificial flickering of an outside light fixture. Then he was on the sniper just between his long bent legs, and the sniper stiffly let him in, mere inches apart.

"You have no idea." Spy whispered with a light rasp, and reached up with his gloved hand to push his fingers into the tufts of hair that sat on the back of his neck.

Spy reveled in the way Sniper squirmed when he explored his neck and arms, taking another kiss under which he melted. His chest felt full at the realization that the other was pliant in every way beneath his touch, an empty vessel in which he could pour every drop of his affection. His musing lit the familiar fire in his core that drove his hands further down, testing the boundaries in very youthful abandon. The Aussie's nervous and unsure gripping and dragging with his own unpracticed fingers spurred him on, and before he could decide whether he should, he was rubbing his palms up and down the sniper's inner thigh and pushing his tongue past the others lips. Although he felt him jump sharply as he did.

Sniper broke the kiss apart abruptly with a squawk, "Blimey hold on! Wait!"

Spy froze on the spot and eyed him, waiting for some sort of answer. "Is this not what you expected?" He asked with concern in his voice.

"No no that's- It's nice just-"

"Nice?" Spy parroted with a quirking brow.

"It's real nice," Sniper corrected, rolling his eyes, "but just... Maybe we could take it slow...?" He glanced away bashfully with a blush across even his ears, before looking back, imploring.

Spy blinked at that flustered, messy, red, and endearingly coy face of his and thought, You do not understand how big of a request that is. He was taken aback by his incredible ability to look like a sweet old mutt, shiny eyed and overjoyed to be petted. The spy brought his hands up from his legs to straighten Sniper's collar. "Very well, slow it is." He replied matter-of-factly. Sniper nodded, and Spy leaned in to hover just before his lips, head tilted. "May I?" He asked with teasing politeness.

Sniper furrowed indignantly, "Ya don't have to bloody ask." He said, and Spy smiled. 

They kissed once more, briefly, as Spy meant to stay true to his word. He was astounded at himself for acting so hastily in the first place, and blamed it on his lack of partners in his later years of life. It was all so exceptionally refreshing that it was nearly reverting him into his past self, foolish, just as he used to be. He stood up and steeled himself like the mental equivalent of brushing himself off after a stumble. He reached out with open palm and offered a hand to the sniper still seated against the wall. He took it gratefully and allowed himself to be pulled forth to his feet. They exchanged silent looks that displayed their acute awareness of everything they'd just said and done to each other and the implications thereof. 

Sniper, feeling bolder after everything he’d just gone through, leaned back to get a good look at Spy's legs and smirked, "Your pants aren’t lookin’ too good mate.”

"Don't." Spy interrupted, knitting his eyebrows and closing his eyes. "I don't want to know."

Sniper laughed and shrugged, and Spy rolled his eyes just to keep himself from sneering down at the dirty patches he knew were on his knees. Sniper stuffed his hands into his pockets and seemed to be waiting, encouraging Spy to say something. Spy sighed and tightened his tie, then touched his finger to his chin thoughtfully before reaching out to Sniper who twitched as he pushed his hair neatly back in place. Spy seemed to come off just as touchy as Sniper had imagined he'd be, and yet, the Aussie couldn’t find it in himself to feel bothered by it.

"Azzes bon," Spy sighed, looking the other over, "I believe that is enough excitement for one evening non?" 

"It is pretty dark... Crikey how long have we been out here?" Sniper flicked his watch into view and squinted at it, trying to make out the number hands in the poor lighting.

"Long enough." Spy offered back, "We should go lest you rouse suspicion."

"Me? What about you?" Sniper frowned, feeling singled out.

Spy gave him a stern, wide eyed look as he lifted his own left wrist to display his watch. He wiggled his arm back and forth, and Sniper took just a second to put two and two together. His watch didn't just tell the time. 

"Piss, I forgot about that." He exhaled, shoulders going slack as he noted that he was the weaker link between the two of them when it came to secrecy.

"Yes, you did. But regardless, we should be going." 

Sniper nodded in agreement, but scratched at his neck when Spy prepared to depart, with a look of reservation as he watched. Spy tilted his head, wondering if perhaps, just maybe, Sniper didn't want him to go, then cursed himself for being so tempted to stay. 

"Until tomorrow, Bushman." Spy assured him softly. No, he wouldn’t dare take everything at once. "Adieu."

"Yeah... 'Night then." Sniper shrugged at him as he vanished into the night with a quiet whoosh.

Sniper stood alone in that room for a moment afterwards, letting the draft from the opened door cool his hot skin and bones. He wondered what he could call this new feeling, and where all of this was going to take him, but mostly he wondered how he would explain coming back from the field with all his equipment at six in the evening.