(Note: Still no tentacles-- those don't happen until later. So, again, if you are not a fan of tentaspy stuff but are a fan of Sniper/Spy, particularly, of Sniper and Spy having a somewhat rocky and awkward relationship, then you can read OTB (http://tf2chan.net/afanfic/res/12359.html) and this without feeling the uncomfortable grip of tentacles. Also, captcha says 'classified'...) Ch.I -/- The Sniper rebuffed the Spy, whenever he caught the man off the clock. He made it clear it wasn't anything personal, no hard feelings about the backstabbing, but they couldn't have what they'd had before, not anymore. For a while, the Spy let him be. He nursed the heartache by himself, surprised at how much it stung, after how little they had had of each other. He wanted the man, wanted someone on the worst of the lonely nights, but he knew he had no real claim on him. He did everything he could to ease it-- not drink, never drink, it scared him to dull his faculties, and there was no point in drinking away sorrow with anything less. But he reasoned with himself, and he wrote out his feelings into letters that he burned over his little tin wastebasket. He never used the word 'love', in all his attempts to describe what the Sniper was or had ever been to him. And then, when he was on his last legs, intelligence long since dropped in a mad scramble just to survive, he stumbled into the Sniper's arms and found himself held. "Going to finish me off?" He asked. "Ought to." The Sniper set him back on his feet, hand hesitating over the handle of his kukri. The Spy nodded. "Do it." "Spook--" "I had one. You get one." He attempted a smile, it felt off. "Come around. Later. We'll talk." The Sniper grunted, before drawing his blade, thrusting hard. 'Talk' was not what they did, when the Spy appeared outside his battered camper, and the Sniper yanked him inside and kissed him, something somehow more brutal than the killing blow had been. They pushed their uniforms aside just enough to get each other off, breathing between clashing kisses, and it was only when they sat across the Sniper's table, cigarettes clenched like a lifeline in their teeth, the smoke winding together between and above them, that they spoke at all. "No sense in suffering, right?" The Sniper asked, his mask of surety slipping and cracking. The Spy pretended it had not. "No, no sense at all." "I mean, we know we get along well enough, for a few good fucks now and then. Just when it starts to feel..." "Lonely." The Spy supplied. "No sense in being lonely, is there?" "Nah. None." He smiled, grateful. "Just as long as we're both stationed the same place, as long as no one finds out. Just to get off every now and then." "Right." They shook hands, the ridiculousness not lost on either of them, and they laughed over it, but the deal was sealed. The Spy left his cigarette butt smoldering in the Sniper's ashtray. And then, the Spy left. He slept better than he had since joining BLU. No. He slept better than he had in years.
I'm so happy it's against the chan rules. Therefore, I must subdue myself and offer these words as paltry substitutes for my real emotions. With so few words given for the chapter, you still made me react accordingly to the Spy's plight. When I first saw the length, I was disappointed, but now I'm satisfied because it was just so properly done. I love your writing, Anne, and I can't wait to read more of these two!
I can almost see the Spy writing all those letters and then burning them after finishing. I love your style, please continue soon! I'm so happy for the Spy, he finally got his Sniper back.
Wow. Uh, well. Best fanfic ever? Best fanfic ever. *eagerly awaits future installments*