Written originally as a prompt for a femSpy, this grew a little bit longer than intended. As such, I'm breaking it up to make it a bit more readable rather than try 12000 words in one post. Will contain femslash and cross-team antics. Has been posted to tumblr as well. So, let's start with the premise. --- The end of the second world war had seen men rushing back from overseas, expecting their jobs to still be there and their women to go happily back to housewifery. For some, that was the case. But for many more, half a decade of access to better wages and training for tough, interesting jobs had instilled a strong spirit of resentment. Two of America’s largest employers saw the perfect chance to capitalise on that. Reliable Excavation & Demolition and Builders’ League United formed their own women’s working corps with high wages and even higher risks attached, and accordingly managed to vacuum up most of the frustrated, talented women left behind when the boys came back from war. Over the next two decades, both companies steadily raised the stakes to attract the best, the brightest, the maddest and the fiercest at each others’ expense. And sometimes, it even worked. Of course, corporate war will often degenerate into actual war. It wasn’t long before RED and BLU found themselves with their very own cadres of deadly women, skills honed through years in the corps and willing to make a few kills if the army wouldn’t take them and the big two might pay a little more. The RED Engineer was one such, having used the company’s programs to put herself through university several times and come out with more PhDs than you could shake a stick at. Having found that even with all that there still weren’t too many places willing to pay a woman what she was worth and give her the job she could really do, she found herself right back with RED. RED got more than just a brilliant mind out of the deal. They got themselves a brilliant mind with a grudge to hold and a powerful, patriotically Texan interest in all manner of firearms. Keeping her holed up in R&D was stifling, but fieldwork, where she could modify her weaponry on the fly and test on, *ahem*, live subjects... well. That was just the sort of place a woman like herself could flourish. --- The Spy was a woman of similar employment status and rather different talents. Older, more self-assured, she had already been practicing her arts in the closing days of the war - a precocious teenager running messages under Nazi noses, performing the odd, quiet little garotting in alleyways and the sort of clubs that such a young lady shouldn’t have ever been seen in. Not that she’d been seen that often, even then. The end of the War had rather dried up need for her skills. Oh, there was always some fiddly little bit of international politicking to do, the Cold War stirring up and old bits of French Empire out in the Far East to look after, but government work was so much less secure than independent contracting. Government work was far more likely to be rumbled, to result in exposed identities and wasted years rebuilding carefully won networks of informants. She turned to corporate espionage instead, where a good suit and a pair of nice stockings could get you information faster than any amount of time spent rummaging illicitly through filing cabinets after dark. When that failed, a stiletto was a very persuasive means of opening both closed mouths and locked cabinets. BLU had been a very reliable employer, eager for talented people to infiltrate the ranks at RED and secure their blueprints, plans and other sensitive information, perhaps even win over some of their vaunted weapons development brainiacs. When they’d decided to stop being so subtle as that and just deployed her in the midst of the companies’ pitched battles, it was almost like being back in Marseilles at the height of the War. Intelligence to steal, enemies to kill, machinery to disable, and copious opportunities to practice her more esoteric skills. As the battles moved from place to place, she found herself up against a few recurring faces. One face in particular appeared more than the rest. With a Southern American accent that was frankly hilarious when infuriated, The RED Engineer was the Spy’s new favourite target for aggressive corporate competition.
They’d been moved to a location known as Double Cross in the company files, a pair of half-abandoned premises capping considerably less abandoned research facilities. The Engineer seemed fond of the place, the Spy noted. Perhaps it was the easily defensible intelligence rooms, or some sort of affection for the farm back in Texas, but she’d been more confident of late. Careless, even. The Spy barely needed to go to the effort of taking her deadly little toys apart, and after a few days of nearly effortless victory she was becoming suspicious. Whatever was happening, it was deliberate. Of that she was sure. The Engineer was diligent. Everything about her job depended on her attention to detail, her almost obsessive ability to care for her machines and keep an eye on her environment. This wasn’t just a run of strange luck. The Spy left it to a few of the other ladies to go in and take the intelligence for a while, and noted the Engineer’s kill-counts racking up again. No one enjoyed being stabbed in the back. A professional wouldn’t enjoy having her machinery destroyed while she was in the limbo between life and death. But the Engineer was letting exactly that happen. All this in mind, it was with trepidation that the Spy approached the next day, heavily cloaked and moving softly. The Sentry beeped cheerfully, the nearby Dispenser hummed to itself. All entirely normal. The Engineer herself, though, seemed to be taking a nap, propped up in a cheap plastic chair between her beloved machines. Defenseless. The Spy warred for a moment between approaching such a tempting target and avoiding such an obvious trap. Nothing happened as she crept up, inch by laborious inch. She risked placing a sapper on the Dispenser first, hand on her gun for the moment when the Engineer would rise up and strike back. But, no. Still nothing. The Engineer wasn’t dead, was still breathing. And it wasn’t like any of the Medics on either side to leave someone unconscious with all of their vital parts still intact and attached. She took the Sentry down as well, to no reaction. Looking over the arrangement again, she saw the object of the trap. A set of blueprints left sticking out of the Engineer’s belt just enough to be easily grabbed, and just enough to be almost impossible to resist. The Spy smiled. Her opponent had tried all sorts of things before in an effort to protect her work, but had to be getting desperate to stoop to such measures. It had to be worth falling for, just to see what sort of strange ideas the woman was courting now. The electric shield she’d rigged for the RED Sniper had been a good one, the tweaked cloaking devices had been entertaining. No wires protruded obviously from the roll of paper, though that didn’t mean there weren’t any woven into the paper itself. No obvious pressure sensors stood out - and the Engineer never did possess the discretion needed to really hide such things. This was something quite new. Something quite intentional, and with motives utterly impenetrable. And curse her, the Engineer had to know that such an odd setup would only be the more intriguing and the more tempting. As the Spy paced softly behind her, the Engineer smiled to herself. The snake would never fall for a trap, but she’d fall for a mystery easy enough. She could almost hear the moment when the Spy came to a decision, felt the gloved hand brush against the months-old blueprints shoved into her belt. The Spy attempted to recoil as the Engineer grabbed her wrist in a vicelike grip. A painfully literal comparison, she realised, as the automated prosthetic tightened its hold on her. Instinctively, she pressed her knife against the back of the Engineer’s neck. “You may let me go, madame, or I will wait until the system claims your corpse and walk free. It is up to you.†“I happen to have a third option.†The Engineer’s free hand plucked the roll of paper from the Spy’s limp hand, waving it inches from the masked woman’s face. “Y’see, honey, it occurred to me that you want what I got ever so badly. So badly, I reckon you might do just about anythin’ to get it.†“And I can ‘get it’ from your corpse, if you keep rambling.†“Oh, sugar, that ain’t no way to start a friendly business arrangement. I’ve got somethin’ much more interestin’ in mind than just another messy kill.†Slowly, carefully, the Engineer turned just enough to meet the Spy’s eyes behind her expensive sunglasses. The knife bit her skin barely enough to draw a stinging bead of blood. “I can give you these. Just hand ‘em right over, and not one of us has to die for ‘em. And you only have to do me the smallest little favour in return.†The soft, Southern drawl was dripping with warm affection, but the Engineer’s goggles glinted coldly and there was just a hint of ice blue behind them. The Spy was keenly aware that friendly words belied a treacherous temper entirely too often. She favoured similar tactics, after all. She returned the smile, as cool as winter snow. “It seems you have my captive attention, madame. What can I do for you?†“That’s more like it.†The Engineer released the Spy’s wrist slowly, waiting for the Spy to lift her knife before letting go entirely. “We’re a long way from decent civilisation out here, and a lady has her needs. I don’t mind sharing a few trade secrets for a little personal entertainment. Say, this evening?†The Spy allowed herself a chuckle, partly in relief. If that was all, well. Easily enough accomplished. “See you then,†she agreed, slipping the knife into the hollow at the base of the Engineer’s skull. She took the blueprints with her as she snatched up the main intelligence objective and made her exit.
The evening wasn’t quite going according to plan. The Engineer ought to by now have been quite drunk on good wine and easy to subdue, at least long enough for the Spy to rifle through her workshop and take whatever she wanted. The Texan had instead remained stubbornly sober, one elbow resting perpetually on a stack of documents that she’d knowingly left in full sight. Classified documents, documents BLU did not yet possess. She kept smiling and making polite conversation and holding her alcohol as though they weren’t onto their second bottle of wine already. The Spy was beginning to get restless. “Not that it is my intention to be an uncouth guest, but perhaps, now you have managed to put away two of the most expensive bottles of wine from my collection, you might be a little forthcoming about our proposed arrangement?†“I have led you on a bit, haven’t I?†The Engineer chuckled. In her workshop she’d shed her welding goggles, but unhelpfully replaced them with equally opaque smoked glasses. The place wasn’t well lit enough to merit them. “My offer’s simple, cottonmouth. You want to get information I have? Well, I want a bit of information as well. I’ve been designing a few things and I find myself in need of a test subject.†“I am sure there must be someone on your own side who would volunteer. If you are testing those chirping hulks you call Sentries, just throw your Scout out in front of them, hm?†“Nothin’ so accessible as that, darlin’.†There it was again, the warm Southern voice and the cold glint of blackened glass. “There are things a lady might not want to share with her teammates, you see.†“Go on.†The Spy gestured loosely, smothering any sign of genuine interest. Blackmail material, perhaps? What could it be that hadn’t come up in the company files already? “There’s a lack of eligible bachelors, and a lady’s hand can only take her so far.†The generally benign expression on the Engineer’s face stretched out into a wider, hungrier sort of smile. “I’ve been refining a few mechanical alternatives that I fully expect to be better than both. Now all I need is a little outside observation.†Well. That was not quite what the Spy had expected. Some admission of Sapphism, yes, obviously, but a technophilia was something else. “So what do you expect me to do?†she asked, in dawning horror tamped down by professional distance. Something bit through into her tone, all the same. “I am certainly capable of gathering information, but if you wanted an observer you would be better with a Medic.†“All I expect you to do is lie back, honey.†The Engineer fetched the stack of papers out from under her elbow. There were glimpses of things in there that were probably weaponry, hopefully weaponry, but the Spy had suspicions about some of the more ergonomic designs. The smile hadn’t faded in the slightest from the Engineer’s face. “This here is a selection of my latest. Work and play both. Have a look, see if you think giving me a bit of practical lab assistance is worth it.†“I may have to get back to you.†“Take as long as you like, though you’re not taking these with you unless you agree.†The Spy sat back, rifling through the papers. It was new, all of it. About three quarters was useful, and the remainder either esoteric or unfit for the eyes of Management. She set a few choice items aside. “Not bad, I suppose. There are one or two things that could be of interest.†The Engineer’s grin turned into a smug smirk. “Knew you’d see things my way.†“I have not agreed to anything, yet.†“Yet.†The Engineer nodded genially,appearing entirely confident that her ploy would have the desired results. To the Spy’s irritation, it was possible that she was correct. Certainly agreeing to the outlandish terms would be easier than trying to sneak back in past all the many and varied traps, only to waste hours fiddling with locks and cabinets in search of paperwork. “I will think about it, and let you know. Good evening to you, madame, and I shall let myself out.†She didn’t try to take even the few interesting pages with her. It would have been far too obvious, and poor manners besides. No, she simply took whatever information she could happen to memorise. In this case, the exact layout of the workshop, the main methods of disarming the security systems, and the combinations on the two safes that had been lying open at the time. She rather looked forward to seeing what sort of information the Engineer kept hidden away. --- “Comfortable there, Spy?†“Passably so.†From her position in the rafters she glanced down at the Engineer in the doorway. “More so if you might consider turning off the floor, thank you.†“Gotta admit, I’m impressed you made it that far.†The Engineer ambled over, in her well insulated work boots, to the hidden switch that deactivated the high voltage running through the scuffed metal flooring. The Spy quietly mourned the death of her lovely set of leather-soled pumps, their valiant sacrifice necessary to keep her alive long enough to get into the roof. “You got past the pressure plates all right, then. An’ I see you dodged the spring-loaded textbooks rather’n not set ‘em off at all. How’d you get by the motion detectors?†“I turned them off, first. Unfortunately, your floor killed my sappers.†After a grudging pause, the Spy added; “Well done on that, by the way.†“Thank you kindly.†The Engineer looked up at the Spy, still wedged in the rafters. “Safe for you to get down now. Floor won’t eat you.†The Spy climbed gingerly down to set her stockinged feet on the floor for the first time in over three hours, since the unexpectedly well positioned plating had driven her up a bookcase and into the wooden ceiling supports. A couple of large metal plates were linked to each other and a network of thinner strips by some sort of hidden wiring. There was almost nowhere in the room one could stand and not be in danger of the leaping arcs of electricity. Wires climbed the bookshelves in a few places as well. “I hardly believe you’ve gone to all this trouble just for me. Do not tell me you have someone else sneaking around in here?†The Spy batted her eyelashes with a mocking pout, hoping that humour might lighten the repercussions of being caught in her enemy’s lair. “Womaniser!†“Just keepin’ the Scout out.†The Engineer didn’t quite acknowledge the Spy’s humour, but the slight twitch of a quickly suppressed smile was enough of a tell for the Spy. Anything that put the technophilic madwoman in a good mood had to be good idea, so far as she was concerned. “An’ havin’ the whole place live gives me an instant power source when I’m workin’.†“Surely there are problems of insulation?†The Spy held up her scorched and ruined shoes for emphasis, and the Engineer laughed. “You want to know about that, you need to give me an answer to my proposition.†“I told you I wanted a little time to think about it,†the Spy protested. “That was before you decided to just break into my workshop, darlin’. You can be welcome in here and take a prize away, or I can beef up those security systems and your pretty lil’ dancin’ shoes won’t even last a minute next time.†The Engineer was still amused, but appeared deadly serious about the ultimatum. Providing the things worked as they were meant to, and providing the Engineer kept to her word, it would not be the worst thing the Spy had done to secure information in her decades-long career. The Engineer waited for her answer with a blank face and expressionless black glass lenses. “On certain conditions,†she said, and the Engineer nodded before she continued. “No restraints. And I wish to examine whatever intelligence you have to offer beforehand, to ensure it is worth my while.†“That’s all fair enough, sure.†The Engineer agreed easily, without qualm. The Spy decided to push and see what other conditions she could lay down. “Nothing you have not tested on yourself first.†“Startin’ to ask a lot for a woman in enemy territory,†the Engineer replied, but gave her agreement all the same. “And only one other thing, madame.†The Spy drew herself up to her full height, still a little taller even without the advantage of her shoes, tall and slender and arrogant. She looked down at the little Texan woman who currently held almost all the power between them. “I want to know why me. There are others on your own team undoubtedly more amenable. Others on my team. The civilian researchers, even, or perhaps some easily led girls from the town.†“Ha-ha!†The little cackle was explosive. “Oh, you’re a vain one, sugar. Maybe you just seemed easiest, or maybe you’re the most interestin’ challenge. Maybe I just like those fancy stockings you wear. Or maybe...†The Engineer lowered her voice a notch, tilted her smoked glasses down just enough to meet the Spy’s eyes directly. “Maybe I just want to see how you come apart off the field.†“Flattered, I’m sure.†Swallowing back the little jolt she’d felt at the Engineer’s soft purr, the Spy maintained her coolly professional demeanour. “Well, we have already wasted plenty of time this evening. Shall we?†The Engineer pushed her glasses back into place, masking her eyes again. “Come back tomorrow. Have a nice early start an’ early to bed, instead of all this skulkin’ around at some godforsaken hour.†The Engineer smiled, switching on her display of being amiable and harmless just as easily as she’d dropped it. “I’ll even make us some cocoa, how’s about that?†“Non. Thank you.†The Spy slipped her wrecked shoes on, trusting the scorched soles to hold long enough to get her back to her own base. The Engineer gave her a cheery wave goodbye as she attempted a dignified exit in electric-blackened pumps.
The Spy considered the Engineer’s behaviour on the slow trek back to her own cloistered rooms. It was possible that this was the woman’s strange way of expressing her crush. Bribery and desire, some strange equivalent of expecting sex in exchange for dinner and flowers. But there was always the chance it could be something more than that. The Spy had not survived as long as she had simply by accepting the most obvious avenue. The Engineer could be deliberately luring her with the hope of placing her in such a compromising position that she could be photographed, exposed, her reputation as an agent irreparably tarnished. It could be some other insidious trap, gaining enough of her trust to capture her and hand her to the REDs in a neat package. It could be revenge. It could always, always be revenge. She paced behind her locked bedroom door, ruined shoes stuffed in the bin, puffing through a series of cigarettes as she unwound each possible motive. The first was easy to believe. The Spy knew she projected an image of sleek, controlled sensuality, a predatory aura that often put other women off-balance and had become useful as a weapon on the field. It was not beyond likelihood that the Engineer had fallen for it. The middle ground, of traps and photographs, seemed far too subtle for the brash little Texan. There was a chance, but the Engineer had always prided herself on being relatively straightforward. She wouldn’t bother with elaborate fictions if she wanted to lay a trap, she’d just go right ahead and make her snare. The fourth seemed very likely, after the Spy had spent so long sabotaging the Engineer’s work. It depended a little on the Engineer being catty enough to try and fake friendliness, pretend an interest that she could turn about when she had the Spy in whatever vulnerable position she wanted. The Spy tapped ash from her third cigarette, turning the possibilities over in her head. It came down to just those two. Love or hate. She’d need to tailor her approach to exploit the vulnerabilities in each. To appear open, willing, enthralled even, to better win over a lust-smitten Engineer, but keep guarded - and well armed- enough to fight back should a vengeance fuelled fury emerge behind closed doors. She smiled as she extinguished the cigarette in a chased silver ashtray. She had just the outfit for a date like that. --- The day went well. She suspected the Engineer was going easy on her, letting her do a little more damage than strictly necessary, and had that suspicion confirmed when the Engineer flashed her a smile just as the knife came down. A victory was a victory, even if it wasn’t fairly won. Her streak of wins would provide an excellent backdrop for a sudden rise in the amount of intelligence she captured. Perhaps she should have expended the effort to seduce a member of the enemy team months earlier, if it made her job so simple by comparison, but the effort required to find hidden little secrets not dismissable as mere teenage experimentation had always outweighed that temptation. By evening, she was positively cheerful. An hour or two at her own base to eat, wash up, dab on a whisper of perfume, arrange her lingerie and a suitably elegant skirt suit to go with it. She’d had the lingerie and the suit both made at considerable cost, and they included such treasures as a hidden length of piano wire, several lockpicks, and a couple of uniquely fashioned stiletto blades. She decided, after a little thought, not to bother with the hidden camera brooch. Several fashionably delayed minutes after nine that night, she knocked on the Engineer’s door and was welcomed in. She had to force her initial warm smile to remain in place when the Engineer let her in. The RED had apparently decided to dress up as well. Her usual welding glove had been replaced with something thinner in a plain, reasonably inoffensive pale leather, presumably for finer detailed work, but that was where the improvement stopped. The rest of her attire involved a dreadful pleated skirt that stopped just past the knee and a blouse that should have been put out of its misery at least a decade prior. And a belt that could only have come from a rodeo. The Spy began to genuinely hope that the Engineer planned on taking the vile outfit off, if only so that the assembly could be discreetly dropped into a waiting furnace and returned to the hell from whence plaid came. “I was startin’ to wonder if you were backin’ out,†the Engineer said, smiling and divesting the Spy of her jacket. She was pleased to see that it was hung on a proper wooden hanger rather than draped on some oily surface or butchered like a carcass on a wire hanger. “It never does to be over-eager, madame, however intense one’s curiosity may be.†The Spy handed over the last bottle of her acceptably drinkable wines, and made a mental note to drop by the little town nearby when she got the chance. “On the subject of curiosity, may I see the documents this evening’s excursion is in aid of?†The Engineer handed over a manila folder and went off to get the bottle opened and a couple of glasses poured while the Spy perused the papers. Clipped to the inside cover was a patent application detailing one of those suspiciously ergonomic devices she’d noticed on her first visit. Several handwritten notes went with it, in a laughably simple mirror code that she read as easily as French or English. Well. The Engineer certainly did like her toys, if the shakily handwritten review was anything to go by. The rest of the documents were the main attraction, and held information on the new reinforced jointing that was being used on Sentry legs to balance out the recoil issues, higher velocity rounds, and a fascinating use for Australium that had to be questionably ethical even by RED and BLU’s loose standards. She sipped absently at the wine as she leafed through. It was all new, and all valuable. A very slim volume compared to the pile the Engineer had first shown her, but that was to be expected. The Engineer was not stupid, and would know to mete out her intelligence in smaller doses to ensure return visits. The Spy almost wanted to congratulate her on her tactical thinking. She snapped the dossier shut and looked up at her abhorrently attired host. “Useful. You know your audience. Do I take it, madame, that the notes in the front relate to your plans for this evening?†“That they do, darlin’. I’ve been wonderin’ over what to call that little gem. Of course, I’ll be needin’ your input on it. No time like the present, an’ all that!†The Spy thought perhaps she detected a hint of nervousness under the Engineer’s cheerful facade, but it was quickly subsumed by the rise of the laborer’s enthusiasm for the inhuman and mechanical. Fetching the little device out, no bigger than the Spy’s palm, the Engineer demonstrated how to control it and what it did. “It’s best to keep it outside, I’m still workin’ on the waterproofin’ aspect, but you should get plenty of satisfaction all the same.†The Spy regarded the polished metal and plastic with wary skepticism, then set the object aside. “You don’t intend to carry out your testing here? In this dingy little workshop?†“Well, I’m sure not takin’ you up to my bedroom! I bunk with Pyro, and she’d not like you sniffin’ around in there even if it was for science.†The Engineer cleared several piles of books off a tarp and pulled it aside with a flourish to reveal an unexpectedly well appointed single bed with fresh, crisp sheets. It smelled faintly of lavender when the Spy settled onto it. The Engineer perched on the rickety stool at her workbench, notebook in hand, and the Spy almost allowed herself a giggle at the idea that the Engineer was really taking this indulgence so seriously. “How do you want me to start?†she asked, artfully arraying her skirt enough to display a stocking-top. “You’ll want rid of that skirt. Blouse is up to you. After that, I’ve told you how it works so just get to whatever suits you.†The Engineer’s practical, matter-of-fact tone felt at odds with the situation, but the Spy followed her instructions and nearly dropped the object when it started vibrating like an overgrown joy buzzer. The Engineer laughed. “Yeah, it’ll do that. Now, go on ahead.†She tested it on neutral patches of skin first, along her cheek, her forearm, exploring the range of sensation. It was quite possibly one of the oddest things she’d been asked to indulge in in all her career, but she saw the promise of it when she ran it up her inside thigh. A faint scratching noise drew her attention away from it. The Engineer really was sitting there and taking notes. Inventors liked to be flattered, liked to believe that their creation was somehow special. The Spy had seen this with every passably creative mind she’d ever been hired to beg, borrow or steal information from, and she doubted the Engineer would be any different. Arching her back, she gave deep, rich moans of pleasure and writhed gracefully in the soft, white sheets. It took a few minutes for the pencil to stop scratching, despite the Spy’s deliberately distracting performance. When the Engineer seized her wrist, the Spy expected the woman to be wearing a look of unbridled adoration. She fluttered her eyelids open and looked winsomely up into a fiercely irritated scowl. “Madame... What is wrong?†she asked sweetly, taking care to drop the device as far from her body as she believably could. “Spy, you think I can’t tell when a woman’s fakin’ her own orgasm?†The Engineer snatched up the discarded object where it buzzed uselessly in the cotton bedding. “If you want those notes, darlin’, then we’re goin’ to keep at this until I get a genuine result. An’ I don’t think I trust you to give me that result yourself.†“Not that I ought to give you the satisfaction of the knowledge, but you are the first to see through my little act.†The Spy tugged her blouse back closed, holding it with one hand. “So you expect me to submit myself to your ministrations?†“That I do.†“Not in that outfit, you do not.†“What’s wrong with my outfit?†“It should have been burned before it left the factory floor, is what is wrong.†The Spy sniffed. “I can certainly tolerate another woman’s hands on my body, but I will burst into flame if that blouse makes physical contact.†“You keep goin’ on like that, I’ll make you wear it,†the Engineer threatened, but she was smiling all the same as she unbuttoned it. The Spy was greatly relieved to see that the skirt and belt hit the floor also, and wished irreparable oil stains upon the whole pile. Beneath the dreadful plaids, the Engineer was wearing sensible, inoffensive underwear in plain white cotton with a tiny hint of colourful red trim. The Spy found it rather fetching in comparison to the disastrous outerwear, pleasingly understated and surprisingly well fitted. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were eyein’ my chest.†The Spy shrugged. “The brassiere is well-made, better than I might have expected from around here or Texas.†“Oh, well. It’s a collaborative effort between me an’ the Doc, since it’s so dang hard gettin’ somethin’ that fits right and has all the right support an’ that, and the Doc knows just about all there is about that end of things. An’ our Sniper’s just killer with a sewin’ machine once she gets goin’.†“You... designed team underwear?†The Spy was not sure whether to be impressed or disgusted. “You’ll never find more comfortable!†the Engineer boasted proudly. “Once you understand the basics of physiology an’ kinetics an’ structural support necessities, there’s nothin’ to it.†The Spy let her ramble on for a while about the fiddly engineering requirements of a few bits of cotton and some wire, but her attention was caught again by the magic word “silkâ€. “What do you need silk for? I had thought you a more practical sort of a woman than pretty silk and lace delicates.†That set the Engineer off onto another little lecture about the remarkable tensile and insulative qualities of silk, which the Spy cut short. “I might be able to procure some silk for you, the very finest raw silk. You would owe me, of course.†The Spy stretched and considered the usefulness of putting the Engineer into her debt. “A favour, perhaps, to call upon later?†“No deal, not for a price I wouldn’t know til you called it in.†The mention of a deal had the undesirable side effect of drawing the Engineer’s attention back to the current agreement. “Now, you got me sidetracked, an’ I reckon you did that on purpose.†The Engineer climbed further up onto the bed, nudging the Spy’s legs apart with her knees. Up close and without the benefit of so many layers of uniform and clothing, the Spy was uncomfortably aware of how much stronger than her the Engineer was, a good deal of compact muscle hidden beneath a soft physique that bespoke buttery Southern cooking at its finest. Her knives were there for reassurance, tucked elegantly away, but the Engineer had a sheer physical presence that was far more intimidating when issues of height were resolved. She allowed herself to quail back, just a little. If the Engineer wouldn’t accept false flattery, or bribes and nonspecific deals, perhaps a taste of power would serve to bend her to the Spy’s whim instead. It seemed to work, with the Engineer already making reassuring murmurances to calm the seemingly spooked Spy. “Come on now, I’m not gonna hurt you. We’ll take this slow, an’ I’ll save the write-up for later.†Starting at her feet, the Engineer used the buzzing thing as a muscle massager. It did feel good on feet sore from running all day every day, and without access to a proper pedicure in months. From there the inventor brought it up, working slowly along the calves to ease out the knots and tension bit by bit. The Spy was starting to believe that the Engineer’s intentions were genuinely benevolent by the time she was halfway up one thigh. “There, now. Turn over and let me do your back, darlin’.†The paranoid tension returned in force. “I would really rather not,†the Spy said, smiling to defuse any insult the Engineer might take. “Nothing against you, of course, but we are still enemies and there has been something of a tradition regarding unguarded backs.†“Spah, I’m just tryin’ to get you loosened up! If I wanted you dead, you’d have been that a thousand times already. Now turn over, would you?†“Non, madame. My apologies, but I will not.†“Well, you can be like that if you want, but you’re missin’ out and I’m missin’ data.†The Engineer made a little twisting pout of frustration. She looked disappointed for only a moment, then shrugged and ran the leather-gloved fingertips of her prosthetic hand down along the Spy’s inner thigh. It was cooler than flesh, and perfectly smooth without fingerprint or working callus, though as gentle and responsive as a real hand. The Spy shivered, and the Engineer turned to kiss her knee in response, not for one moment mistaking the shiver for a chill. The little affection was unexpected, when the Engineer’s demeanour had stayed so firmly friendly rather than intimate. The Engineer smiled, lips still pressed against the Spy’s leg, and continued to run her gloved hand up and down the sensitive skin of the Spy’s thigh. She stopped just barely short of the Spy’s underwear every time, teasingly close but never quite enough to make contact with the expensive culottes. The Engineer’s slow patience succeeded in relaxing the Spy again, bit by bit, until she grew comfortable and impatient enough to roll her hips up in a lazy arc to meet the next pass of the Engineer’s hand. The Engineer brushed her knuckles against the frail silk, repeating the gesture when the Spy did not shy away and continuing her slow tease. Her flesh and blood hand took over the up and down strokes over the Spy’s leg, the calluses of hard work leaving her hand rougher than the kid-gloved mechanical copy. The Spy wriggled her shoulderblades into the bed, pleasantly surprised by the contrast between the cooler, inhumanly gentle hand and the warmer, rougher, living fingertips. She gave a hazy murmur of enjoyment when the Engineer kissed her knee again, controlling her flinch far better than before when the peculiarly vibrating object hove into view again. The Engineer used it well, following the same tantalising paths as her fingertips at first and relenting only when the Spy draped a leg over her shoulder in a none too subtle demand for further attention. “You do still have the option to back out, if y’want it,†she whispered, holding the device not quite close enough to touch the thin fabric of the Spy’s increasingly damp underwear. The Spy rolled her eyes in disbelief, distracted from her pleasurable reverie. “Madame, this is more foreplay than my last four lovers put together. Get on with it!†“When you put it like that, maybe I don’t want to after all,†the Engineer smirked. The Spy tried to raise a warning eyebrow, but the effect was lost in her startled shudder when the Engineer chose that exact second to bring the device those last couple of inches closer. She could not quite decide whether she wanted to press closer to it or pull away. She gave up entirely on controlling her moaning gasps as the Engineer moved the little machine in tiny circles. Her leg, still propped on the Engineer’s shoulder, pulled the woman in close enough for the Spy to tangle a hand through her hair, fingers fisting and relaxing as she hit a long, powerful orgasm. She was still in the aftershocks of it when the Engineer found a new pattern of movement that provoked another unexpectedly, and she shoved the Engineer instinctively away. The buzzing noise stopped, and the Spy became aware that she wasn’t the only one panting. The Engineer looked confused, perhaps even hurt, and the Spy scrabbled through her haze for an inoffensive excuse. “I am sorry, Madame. I was … getting over-sensitive.†The Engineer covered her emotions well, she saw, almost immediately disguising whatever moment of hurt the Spy had caught. “Got enough for one night, anyway, an’ it’ll be gettin’ late, too.†“Yes. Yes, of course.†Feeling decidedly dishevelled, and brought down too suddenly from her pleasant high, the Spy sat up and wobbled visibly as she did so. “Not that I wish to impose when you have results to write up, but might I have a glass of water?†The Engineer threw her ugly blouse back on and made her way to the tap, handing the Spy the glass with some thoughtless spoken nicety and turning immediately back to her notebook and pencil. The Spy sipped her water and dressed more slowly, adjusting everything that had been mussed by writhing on bedlinens or improper hanging techniques. It wasn’t the time to try and make apologies, she judged, or they could be there all night and have nothing worked out. She picked up the folder with the papers she’d earned, made her polite goodbye, and cloaked before picking her way out through the base and across the no-mans’ land to her own rooms to review her haul once more.
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>>5 Ach, sorry... The Engineer was deliberately leaving herself open to the Spy, honeying it as a trap to guarantee her interest. I thought it was clear enough, but I could do with tidying it up further. As for kill count, that would be something teams pass between themselves - even without a scoreboard, ingame everyone knows when there's a beast of a Sniper or a killer Heavy/Medic combo on the opposition. Likewise, if a dangerous opponent is suddenly a lot less dangerous then people will notice. The Spy's job is to be observant - if she has absolutely no trouble catching the Engineer out but everyone else is getting sent to Respawn, then she'll soon see that something's amiss. Glad you liked what of it I hadn't rendered impenetrably tangled or confusing! At any rate, here's the next installment: --- “I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to kill me for just a moment, Madame!†“When someone could walk in? Not likely, sugar.†The Engineer’s wrench swung across in an arc the Spy dodged easily, but which forced her away from the machines she’d intended to sap. “Look, I am a professional just as you are, but we can just maintain a pretense of violence while we speak!†“Or you can find me after the day’s done. You know where I am.†“Fine, you insufferable laborer.†The Spy backed out from the nest the Engineer had built, her apology unspoken. They spent the rest of the day distant from each other, the Spy performing only a perfunctory few attempts upon the Engineer’s life, and the Engineer staying firmly lodged in her nest rather than roaming abroad from her beloved machines. It was only when the Announcer’s nicotine-ravaged voice called a cessation to hostilities that she tried the Engineer again. “Bonsoir-†“Cut to the chase, I got heavy goods to move.†The Engineer preferred to take her sentries and dispensers down properly at the end of each day, whereas the one on the Spy’s team just self-destructed them and carted the scrap back. “Well. I wished to apologise for the incident the other night. I did not mean to lash out, but I should like to continue our lucrative arrangement.†“You want me to invite you back into my home after you nearly kicked me in the face, is what you’re sayin’?†“Ah... oui, Madame. It will not happen again.†The Engineer pushed her goggles up and glared suspiciously at the Spy. “You want any more of my information, you’re gonna agree to a few more of my terms,†she stated flatly. “Includin’ that if you’re gettin’ fractious, you’re either gonna tell me or I’m gonna pin you down til you learn to keep your dang legs still.†This had not been in the Spy’s range of possible options, but the rate of recompense for such valuable ‘stolen’ documents was exceptional, and the possibilities for advancement beyond the battlefield improved with every item of rare intelligence gathered. She nodded. “That is understandable. I won’t have my wrists restrained, though.†“We’ll see about that. I don’t fancy you tryin’ to use my hair as a set of reins, either.†Despite her prickly words, the Engineer seemed to be warming again. “And this time, we ain’t stoppin’ til I say we’re stoppin’.†Recalling the unusual intensity of the sensations the Engineer’s device caused, the Spy was less than certain that it would be entirely worthwhile to take such a risk. But so long as she had her arms free, she could always make her refusal quite clear if she needed to. “You drive a hard bargain, Madame, but I will accept. Tomorrow evening?†“Friday. I’m busy tomorrow.†“Friday, then.†The Engineer dropped her goggles back into place, but the Spy was all the same quite certain that the woman rolled her eyes when the Spy vanished from sight rather than walk out where anyone could see her. --- This second liaison would have to go more smoothly than the first, if she wanted the business arrangement to continue profitably. That much was clear. The Engineer had started it, and was perfectly capable of finishing it if she desired - that she not desire as much was entirely up to the Spy. She spent the Thursday night running through her missteps to avoid them in future. Her paranoia could perhaps stand to relax a little, if only so that she didn’t immediately create physical distance when she was getting a touch vulnerable. Performance was likewise a no-go, except at the most subtle level. Flattery might still be useful, if carefully handled. The knives would have to stay, of course. A little extra bribery wouldn’t go amiss. Wine seemed apt enough for a Friday night, even if she was now into her selection of passable table wines rather than independently enjoyable vintages. After a little thought, she also put in an order for a bolt of fine silk from one of her preferred suppliers in Europe. If the Engineer couldn’t be won over with physical charms, she could still be bought with raw materials. The fabric wouldn’t arrive for weeks yet, but it was a backup plan. Backup plans were always useful. The Spy reviewed her options a few more times before bed that evening, finally settling into a few hours of solid sleep before the working day began. This time, she felt, she would have enough advantage of the Engineer to guarantee a long and very fruitful working relationship.
I noticed someone in the Miss Pauling un-thread asking for more femclass. So here, the continuation. --- “Unfashionably early, Spy?†The Engineer let her in and shut the door quickly, wary of teammates lingering in the corridors of an evening. She set the gift of wine aside absent-mindedly, handing over a portfolio marginally but discernibly thinner than the first had been. The quality of the intel remained high, and the Spy was pleased to note that there was no new suspiciously ergonomic invention blueprint pinned to the cover this time. “I notice there seems to be rather less here than we exchanged originally.†“That’d be since you got more’n you gave last time, an’ I’m just balancin’ accounts out,†the Engineer smiled, daring her to argue the point. The Spy offered a gracious little nod of acquiescence instead and slipped the sheaf into her bag rather than disrupt things any further. She could always wheedle more out at a later date and spend the evening ahead encouraging the Engineer’s future generosity, possibly with the aid of a little alcohol-based social lubrication. “I never did ask what your preferences are for wines,†she remarked, picking up the bottle that had been set into a barely-free space between half-assembled chunks of weaponry. “I believe I have a passable dessert wine or two, if you prefer to indulge your sweet tooth. Americans do seem fond of their Muscat.†“A nice white does me,†the Engineer shrugged, genially unchoosy about her choice of drink. An indulgent little flash of fantasy played across the Spy’s mind, of attempting to introduce culture to the disinterested little Texan woman. She had cultivated fine tastes in her marks before, to make her job more entertaining and her informers more malleable to her whim. A little bitterly, she reflected that the Engineer was almost certainly too pragmatic and prosaic to be introduced to the addiction of opera. But the Spy smiled all the same, and made mention of a few bottles she’d tucked away, and felt an unexpected thrill when the Engineer did recognise one or two of the vineyards and grapes involved. The Engineer agreed to try a proper Sauternes, rather than the plonk labelled as sauterne by her countrymen, and the Spy very nearly promised then and there to bring a bottle of Chateau d’Yquem for their next meeting before her good sense took hold. A more affordable Aszu Tokaji would do instead for an introduction to proper dessert wine, and would undoubtedly be less of an insulting blow to the wallet if the Engineer did not develop the taste for it. It was rare to have a chance to really discuss such pleasures of the palette in this company of mercenaries and madwomen. The Spy looked forward to their next exchange of information already, though she knew there was plenty of the evening yet to come. Allowing herself to chatter on, she caught the Engineer’s indulgent smile and knew she’d found at least one way to encourage the Engineer to keep their arrangement. A woman of particular obsessions, the Engineer would of course recognise similar passions in others. Wine was not the Engineer’s subject of choice, but it was new information and that, too, was one of the Engineer’s weaknesses. The Spy ventured a hand on the Engineer’s knee as she moved the topic gently to the production methods, the different sorts of casks, the different woods and metals that could affect the flavour. It worked. Grapes and agriculture weren’t her topic. Wine was just a pleasant thing to drink, and maybe worth remembering if it tasted nice. But manufacturing methodology, with all those complex chemical interactions and temperature regulation requirements, that was something the Engineer could get her figurative teeth into. An illuminating half-hour lecture on the probable effects of increasing the sulphur concentrations in oak barrels followed, the Engineer taking notes even as she thought her way through the potential changes to maturation and sugar content. The Spy wondered if she ought to steal that notebook as well, to take home to France rather than sell back to her employers. The Engineer caught herself at the end of her fifth page of tiny handwriting and scribbled diagrams, and rapped the Spy’s knuckles playfully with her notebook. “You’re too good at that, missy, divertin’ me away from the subjects I’m meant to be studyin’,†she said with false sternness, undermined by her own grin. “I was plannin’ on makin’ good time this evenin’, but here we are gabbin’ away about a load of fancy liquors I doubt I’ll ever even taste.†“Oh, you wound me, Madame! Would I do that?†The Spy looked up, round-eyed, in a mockery of innocence. “You would an’ you do.†The Engineer regarded the Spy for a moment, calculating despite her good humour. “I do still want to run an endurance test tonight, I wasn’t jokin’ about that. An’ there are limited hours in the day.†“Of course, of course.†The Spy slipped out of her light jacket, hanging it carefully on her chairback. She had warred with herself over a dress with a buttoned back, torn between the useful play on the Engineer’s trust she could gain by having the Engineer unbutton her, and the very real vulnerability of exposing her naked back to someone who was still technically an enemy. An agreeable blouse and skirt had won instead, with a corselette underneath that she’d hoped might if nothing else appeal to the Engineer’s interests in structural design. She couldn’t quite bring herself to turn her back on her hostess as she hung up her garments on the same generously provided hanger as before, watching as the Engineer retrieved her invention from a complex sort of a docking bay which it had been cradled in. “I’ve a few things I need to be on the look out for,†she said, checking it over and polishing it with a clean chamois leather. “Battery life and reproducible results, mainly... So we may have to repeat ourselves a few times. I do hope you didn’t have any other plans for tonight, sugar.†“Ah.†Apprehension thrilled up the Spy’s spine as she realised just how utterly serious the Engineer was about spending all night testing the device and the Spy’s personal endurance, if necessary. It could take hours... And somehow, somehow she wasn’t entirely sure whether it was purely apprehension she felt, or whether it might have been tainted with just a little anticipation. The Spy decided that she preferred to blame the unexpectedly lively talk about agreeable subjects, rather than lingering memories of the Engineer’s thoughtful foreplay and gentle touch from the last time. “You lay yourself back again, let me do the work. All I want from you is your reaction.†The Engineer’s voice had dipped, deliberately or not, into that purr the Spy recalled entirely too well. She was stripping out of her own sensible working clothes, draping them over the back of a chair, padding over toward the bed with a sway of soft, heavy hips. The Spy closed her eyes, banishing the image. There was nothing wrong with enjoying one’s work, absolutely nothing wrong with it. But it was something else for work to find itself incidental to enjoyment, a very dangerous precedent to set, no matter how well the Engineer’s hands walked over her skin. She couldn’t remain stiff and tense under the Engineer’s ever-so-thorough ministrations. The hint of a teasing bite to her calf snapped her eyes back open. The Engineer grinned, kneeling between the Spy’s ankles, and pressed a kiss to the faintly pink mark her teeth had left in the Spy’s pale skin. “Cannibalism was not in the agreement,†she managed, hardly her most stinging rebuttal. “No? An’ here’s you lookin’ good enough to eat.†The Engineer nipped playfully again and again, a whole row of little pink marks that faded almost as quickly as they reddened, and the Spy looked firmly elsewhere. It made no difference; the sensations remained. Worse, if anything, because she could not see where a kiss or lick or bite might land next and the Engineer seemed to find spots of ever greater sensitivity to tease with every passing minute. Her breathing sped up, rapid and shallow, when she felt the Engineer lean up over her. A leather-gloved thumb stroked her hip, a work-callused hand passed up along her ribs with an intimacy of touch that couldn’t be attributed to a mere transaction of favours. The Spy gasped when one of the Engineer’s little fluttering bites nipped at her collarbone and followed it into the hollow of her throat where the teeth transformed somehow into lips and flickering tongue. “Relentless Sapphist,†she accused, panting. “Ain’t I just?†The Engineer didn’t lift her mouth away to speak, the buzz of her voice carrying over into the Spy’s skin. Her neck, her neck was vulnerable, was unguarded, and yet the effort required to try and push the Engineer away seemed far too great for whatever risk it might balance out. “V-vous - vous êtes une femme... terrible...†“Mm? Say that again, darlin’.†The hand that had been on the Spy’s hip had moved, was tracing spirals and waves up her thigh, vanished abruptly for a second and returned with a smooth metal shape in hand to continue idly following geometric patterns. The other, the Engineer was leaning on for support as she nosed at the Spy’s neck and nuzzled the shell of her ear. The sudden whirr of the metal lump caused the Spy to jump in surprise, only to find herself pinned quite completely in place by the Engineer’s warm weight and relentlessly patient, gentle touch. It took her less time to relax again than she’d have liked to admit. The machine itself seemed to have been tuned down since their first encounter, the vibrations a softer, deeper thrum rather than the more intense and demanding buzz it had previously been. It might not be as effective at working knots out of tense, tired muscles, but the Spy quickly discovered it was much improved for its intended use. She whimpered encouraging little half-phrases of French and English as she pressed up toward the Engineer’s hand, rewarded with open-mouthed kisses that muffled her increasingly high-pitched little moans until she clutched, shuddering and breathless, at the Engineer’s back and shoulders. The Engineer had learned from the last time, some clouded part of the Spy’s brain observed. She didn’t push immediately to see what new reactions she could wring out, but continued to kiss the Spy and let her down gently with soft, stroking hands and murmured reassurances in that thick Texan dialect until the Spy had very nearly got her breath back. Very nearly, that was the thing, quite different from entirely, and in bare moments the Spy felt her breathing and her pulse and her hips all rise at once to the Engineer’s renewed attentions. She’d moved on from the Spy’s mouth and throat, following back down along the flat bone to between the Spy’s breasts, nudging aside the corselette’s cups in her licking, kissing, biting campaign to drive the Spy mad. The Spy very much looked forward to finding out where she’d learned to do that with her tongue. She entirely forgot about asking when the Engineer brought her up to a second gasping, groaning climax and whispered low to her in that velvet American accent even as the Spy’s own French deserted her. “You like that, darlin’?†“Wstfgl.†The Spy couldn’t fully reclaim her power of speech. What small bit of her was lucid felt it was unkind to interrogate a woman still wobbling gently on the edge of deeply enjoyable collapse. “Plenty more where that came from.†“Mrrm?†The Engineer gave her a kiss on the cheek, a light, chaste thing entirely at odds with the intimacy of the situation, and followed it up with a smile entirely as lascivious as their evening’s activities. Eventually, the device’s batteries wore down. The Spy had quite lost count of how many rounds the damnable thing lasted, but found that she had entirely lost the use of her knees when she tried to sit up after several more recuperative minutes of gazing blissfully at the ceiling. The Engineer stroked the side of her face and disappeared from view, clattering about racking the flat-batteried Device back in its cradle and fetching clinking glasses. Pushing up onto her elbows, the Spy examined the proffered drink suspiciously. “Ice tea, sugar. Sweetest brew this side of Dallas. Get you back up and running in no time.†The Spy relented and sipped when she saw the Engineer do the same. It was like drinking faintly tannic lemony syrup, but ice cold and welcome after the sheer heat of their exertions. The Engineer drained her own glass and looked over at a wall of timepieces, somehow discerning the correct time from the morass of varying hands displayed. “It’s pretty late. You’re welcome to have a nap on the bed here ‘fore you head back, if you want it.†“Non. The offer is kind, but I must regretfully decline. you understand I cannot sleep in the workshop of my enemy, regardless of whatever else I might accomplish there.†The Spy sipped her drink again, considering with some surprise just how genuine the regret she expressed was. “I... would like a little time to collect myself before I go dashing off, though, s'il vous plaît.†“Bed’s yours til you’re done with it.†The Engineer shrugged, turning away to dig out her writing materials and get her shirt back on. “I got writin’ up to do before I forget all the timin’ an’ numbers, anyway.†The scratch of pencil on paper and occasional soft rustle of fabric were the only sounds after that. The Spy finished her drink quickly and left quietly rather than disturb her hostess’s work, and on the long walk home very pointedly didn’t think about how much more welcoming the Engineer’s little bed seemed than her own, or how coldly mechanical the Engineer herself had turned at the Spy’s refusal.
Oh, please continue this! I hadn't seen it and I absolutely love it! Also, can you give the link of this for tumb1r?
Hnng, this is absolutely amazing!
Last installment I've got done for the time being, though I haven't ruled out any more in the future. Thank you both for your compliments, and for the anon who wanted to find this on my tumblr, I go by ZiGraves both here and there. It's a few posts back. --- The liaisons continued on an erratic schedule, at the Engineer’s whim. The Spy was cautious enough not to press for further engagements beyond what the Engineer was willing to offer, no matter how much she might have wanted the extra intelligence (or anything else, though no, no, best not to think that way). It was a good arrangement. Getting greedy would only jeopardise it. The Spy would arrive an unfailing few minutes late, immaculately dressed, offering wine and conversation. Their evening talks went on, on topics ranging from wine and art to politics and industry, skirting ever around anything too personal, and the Engineer would always let herself be led on for an hour or so before declaring that the tables would have to be turned. The Spy scarcely bothered to feign innocence each time, but for the amusement the pantomime clearly brought the Engineer. The document sheaves grew thinner and thinner, though the nights grew no shorter. The Spy didn’t pass comment even once on the unfairness of the trade or the frailty of the charade. It never seemed the right time to bring it up, no matter how slender the paperclipped pile of intelligence became. The arrangement was far too good to fail, right up until it did. After a couple of months, an unusually solemn-looking Engineer handed the Spy a thin folder with barely half a dozen pages in it. “Can’t dream new inventions up as fast as you take ‘em down, darlin’, an’ I ain’t gonna ask you to come back here for nothin’. This is the last lot. An’ frankly...†It took the Engineer a moment to rally the words, something the Spy had not seen in her before. “Frankly, one or other of our employers is gonna notice soon, anyways. If BLU don’t wonder why you’re deliverin’ up like clockwork, RED’s gonna wonder why I ain’t keepin’ my stuff locked away better.†The Spy took the thin document wallet and stared at its meagre contents for a minute, then snapped it back closed. It was a good arrangement they had. She’d put months into it not failing. She rebelled against the idea that perhaps they’d never have that Chateau d’Yquem at all, and the silk still locked away in her safety deposit box would have been purchased for no good whatsoever. She pressed the folder back into the Engineer’s hands, and wrapped her fingers over them. “Perhaps I want something else in return for my time, Madame,†she said. “Our employers need not know. You have other talents I might want the use of. For instance, I happen to have a bolt of silk, you have skill in designing fabulous confections of lingerie.†It was the thinnest of premises. Were it ice on a lake, the Spy wouldn’t have trusted it with the weight of landing snow, but here she found herself trusting her whole self to it. She watched the Engineer consider it and retreat to safety. “I don’t know about that... I ain’t the one with the sewing machine, an’ I think our Sniper might notice if I had some fancy new non-regulation fabrics to work with.†“Then... there are your ideas for the future of vineyard fermentation, many would pay highly for those.†The Spy grasped again, and missed again. “No one around here, though, and I don’t reckon either of us is gettin’ time off enough for you to sell those to some fancy French bidders.†The Spy made a last, desperate lunge toward what would either be safe land or deep, icy water. “I - I have a sore back. And your Device is marvellous for it. I would be in your absolute debt if you could perhaps help?†“Your back? Spy, I don’t think your own teammates have even seen that.†“You could, though.†The Spy’s hands were still wrapped over the Engineer’s and clutching far too tightly for any pretense to last. She saw the glimmer of understanding fight with wavering resolve in the Engineer’s eyes and pressed. “Please, Madame. I would be in such pain without your attentions. I could pay you back however you wished.†“However I wished?†The lingering caution in the Engineer’s voice was being overcome with something else, something speculative and not yet certain. “Oui.†“If I wished for fancy winin’ an’ dinin’, instead of the bedroom favours I usually call in?†“Then it would be my greatest pleasure,†the Spy said with all sincerity, “to wait upon you hand and foot. It would be the most marvellous meal you have ever had the privilege to enjoy, because if anything should mar it then I would take revenge most personally.†“An’ if I said I don’t want that at all?†The Engineer stopped, started, met the Spy’s eyes again with an intense, brittle gaze and a voice to match. “If I said I just want you?†“Then I would be yours, Madame.†The Engineer considered the long, elegantly manicured hands that held her own in a near death-grip. The Spy’s knuckles stood out white beside her nail lacquer, itself a red so deep it was almost blue. “You got yourself a deal, sugar.†The Engineer pried her hands free and set the folder down while the Spy was still making grateful thank-yous in several languages, then raised a hand to the Spy’s lips to silence her. The Spy kissed it instead, entirely unbidden, and smiled. “So. If I am yours now, what might you have me do?†“I might have you stay exactly where you are.†The Engineer stepped back and looked up at the Spy, and the Spy felt some of the old nerves returning with the impulse to second-guess her every action. That patient, calculating look the Engineer wore, always too hard to read. No matter how well the Spy dressed and held herself, she was certain those thoughtful eyes could see right through her. The display of gratitude had surely not helped, and it really been wise? The arrangement could have ended peacefully, and the longing would have gone away eventually. The Engineer stepped aside and the Spy turned to follow but found herself warmly, firmly told to stay exactly where she was. She realised what the Engineer was doing. Out of sight meant behind her back, her open unguarded back, and every little bit of paranoia of years of espionage came right back to say it was a trap and she was about to turn, about to defend herself- The Engineer’s hands were gentle, resting on her shoulders. There was no knife. There wasn’t even metal, the inhuman hand sheathed safely in its glove. The Spy let out a long, shuddering breath and heard the Engineer laugh behind her. The heavy, solid hands began to knead very slowly through the layers upon layers of fabric of the Spy’s suit, pressing into muscles that had been tense for easily a decade and more. “Ain’t so bad, is it?†“Non. Not so bad,†the Spy agreed shakily. A minute passed, then another. “Might be easier without that jacket of yours in the way, though.†“Yes.†It was easy to agree in theory, but the Spy waited all the same for the Engineer’s hands to lift the jacket off her shoulders and slip it down her arms. Her waistcoat went next, the Engineer wrapping her arms about the Spy’s waist to reach the buttons of it. She could feel the warmth of the Engineer behind her, soft breasts and belly and sun-reddened face resting against her back. She never had anything so close against her spine that wasn’t her own clothing, her own bed, or a reassuringly sturdy wall. Her whole career had been built on that kind of caution. The Engineer stayed there for a few minutes more until the Spy’s posture began to ease, just holding her close. “I’ve got you, darlin’. Understand?†The Spy almost nodded, then caught herself that the Engineer wouldn’t be able to see that sort of gesture with the side of her face pressed right up the back of the Spy’s neck. She laced her fingers through the Engineer’s own instead by way of wordless acknowledgement. “How’s your back now, hm?†She could feel the Engineer’s voice, the thrum of her vocal chords where her throat rested right up against the Spy with only a fine linen blouse between them. The Spy nearly laughed. “It is much better than it has been in a very long time. Thank you.†The kiss on the back of her neck took her by surprise, though she knew it shouldn’t have. “You never did tell me exactly why me instead of any other woman you could have had for your experiments.†The Engineer chuckled, nuzzling against the little bit of skin available between the Spy’s hair and the collar of her blouse. “Didn’t want any other woman. Wanted you.†The Spy felt a strange little tightness in her chest, her fingertips twitching slightly where they lay enmeshed through the Engineer’s. She lifted their twined hands up to her collar and unbuttoned her blouse one slow button at a time, working around the Engineer’s hands rather than let go. The fine linen slipped down over her shoulders almost of its own accord. Her back was not heavily scarred, but bore more marks than anywhere else on her body. They were little things, mostly, a thin line and a slight pockmark that could have been due to anything from teenage spots to wartime shrapnel. There was one deep gouge just above her left kidney that had nearly killed her, back before she’d joined BLU. The Engineer’s hands squeezed hers then tugged free, maintaining constant contact with the Spy’s skin as they moved around to her back again. The gloved, skeletal hand was just as warm as flesh from being held so tightly. The Spy swallowed at a lump in her throat that had developed seemingly from nowhere as the Engineer explored, feeling the smooth leather and tough calluses follow the path of her spine, the shapes of her shoulder blades, the curve of rib and hip and the dip at the edge of her trousers that went on down under the fabric into the cleft of her buttocks. “You’re gorgeous, darlin’. Finest lady I ever did see.†The Engineer kissed her on the shoulder, hands continuing to roam and drifting past the scars as though they didn’t exist. The kisses skittered on until the Engineer had turned herself quite around and was back in front of the Spy, lips pressed to the hollow between collarbone and shoulder. Her hands rested quite comfortably in the small of the Spy’s back, pulling her in close. The Spy bent her head down to meet the Engineer’s lips for a kiss, draping her arms over the Engineer’s shoulders and finger-combing through her hair. “You are a most remarkable curative,†she said, forehead resting against the Engineer’s. “You know, I do not think my back hurts at all now you have had a look at it.†“Reckon I oughta keep an eye on it anyway.†“Yes. I think you should. For quite a long time, perhaps.†“Mm.†The Engineer didn’t bother with a reply, stealing another kiss instead. Her fingertips made tight circles in the muscle either side of the Spy’s spine, easing away tension that had lain in knots for years.