(I was convinced to write this one a little while back) -Odd Couple- Eventually, the Spy just gave in. None of the measures he took succeeded in ridding him of the BLU Soldier, and he had enough space that he felt he could wall half the house off if necessary. No skin off him, after all, if the Soldier didn't have access to the kitchen, or a full bath. The man's sob story had been long, and winding, and very strange. His own apartment he had lost after making unwelcome modifications to the architecture, not to mention being a general nuisance to the rest of the building. After that, he had spent a solid week living in his counterpart's home with neither the RED Soldier nor his wizard roommate being any the wiser. This, the Spy felt, was impressive, considering. The man was insufferable, of course-- when he didn't pitch in around the house, he created mess, and when he did pitch in, they both wound up with purple undershirts, and several of the Spy's dry-clean-only suits had been utterly ruined. All he ever wanted to eat was soup and ribs, with nothing good to say about the Spy's other culinary endeavors, and the only other groceries he contributed to the household were gun-based periodicals, ketchup, and beer. Worst of all, once he realized the Spy wasn't a corpse, he seemed to want to be friends! Still, the Spy put up with all of that, because the Soldier could not be kicked out, and because when he did kick back with his beer in the evenings, he sometimes talked about his teammates, and that at least was useful. And then, the unthinkable happened. "Just don't be around." The Spy pleaded. "I... I am bringing a date back to the house." The Soldier laughed, elbowing him in the ribs. "Scout said his mother was coming out to visit him here! You dog." "Euh, yes... So. I thought maybe you would enjoy going out to the rib joint in town, maybe catch a late movie. Maybe go to a bar and meet a girl and be not here." "Oh, I don't know. Wouldn't feel right about letting my teammate's poor mother go out without a chaperone." The Soldier teased. "... What do you want?" "I want you to stop trying to smoke me out. You set my mattress on fire last week, the whole house coulda burned down, you know!" "It would be worth it." The Spy deadpanned. "And that was you, falling asleep with a cigar." "Oh." The Soldier closed his mouth, mulling things over. "Is that all?" "I need you to do a favor for me." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, as he grabbed his helmet from the coatrack by the door. "Of course. Anything. Get out, get out, before she arrives, here!" The Spy shoved a handful of bills at him. "I'll even pay for your night out!" "This is a lot of money, Frenchie!" "Go wild!" "Okay, but if you back out on me later, I'm gonna tell her you kill her baby boy for a living. Remember that! And I'm borrowing your car!" The Spy hurled his keys at the other man, waving him off, before collapsing against the door with a sigh. Gone, gone, he was finally gone, even if it was only for one night. And leaving plenty of time to spare before the lady arrived. He stopped in the kitchen, instead of heading upstairs to freshen up, dialing a number from memory. The Soldier hadn't asked the favour yet, but the Spy had a feeling he knew, just based on the turns the conversation took, when the man was in his cups. Based on things the Spy knew. Based on the clingy loneliness and the way the Soldier wasn't put off by team allegiance the way he could have been. His lie was prepared before the other end picked up. "Ah, glad to have caught you at home. If you are not engaged this weekend, I wanted to invite you over. I... need an expert opinion on a stump in the yard, I think it needs dynamiting out, and, well... I thought you would say that. Drinks and dinner on me, if you can get it taken care of without blowing the whole house up."
-Almost a Home- If anyone asked-- and he left without giving them the chance to-- the Sniper quit because he was sick of staying in one place. Restless. Maybe a little homesick. There was more to it, there always was, but when his contract came up, he slipped away quietly instead, shipped the things he couldn't do without home to Oz, rid himself of the rest, and flew back to buy a piece of failing land on the edge of the desert, too sere for crops or livestock, but enough property to keep himself isolated there. He bought a used kombi, lived in it until the little house in the centre of his land was fixed up. And most of his days he spent just enjoying the fact that he was there, no one to bother him. He could visit his parents, of course-- had visited them, before moving in properly, it had been the first thing he did. He drove into the nearest town when he needed anything, and the rest of the time, he was happy to have no neighbours, no pressing requirements on his time, no distractions. He could watch the lazy circle of birds passing over his land, could watch animals come and go. Hunt, if he liked, and sometimes he did, just to stay sharp, or to keep them from thinking they could invite themselves into his house or his shed or his van, when the heat had him leaving doors and windows open. It was on the way back from one of his trips to town-- needed milk and eggs, though he sometimes went without if it meant saving himself the hassle-- when he saw the box on the roadside, and slowed to a stop, sick feeling in his stomach that he could neither shake nor explain. It was a kitten-- just one-- and he pulled off his shirt, wrapping the dirty little creature up in it carefully. It purred the moment he touched it, and that settled him against a mercy killing. He placed it on the passenger's seat, balled safe in the moss-green cotton of his henley. His arms would burn, but that was nothing new. Back at the house, he cleaned it up, wiping away dust and the crust from its eyes with a damp flannel, making it a bed in one of his towels, glad his mother had convinced him he should own more than one after all. He mixed an egg into a saucer of milk, sopping little bits of bread in it and feeding the little purring bundle. All black, he hadn't been able to tell before bathing it. "This isn't charity, so's you know." He informed the kitten, as it ate hungrily and purred all the louder. "This is a loan, see? Figure you need to get your strength up, put on a few pounds, before you can earn your keep, but I expect you to. No free rides around chez Mundy. But I get mice in the pantry times, and they're too small to shoot, and too wily to trap, most of 'em. I expect you to take care of that." The kitten mewed and rubbed into his hand, and he petted it, dwarfing the little thing. He didn't think it would hurt to have the kitten to talk to. Better than talking to himself, which he'd resorted to. When he'd gone between trips to town without talking to himself, his throat had all but forgotten how when he got to the store. No, might be good for him. Be good to keep the mice and rats away. His pantry was easy pickings compared to the desert, after all, and unlike the big critters, he couldn't sit on the porch with his rifle and scare them off or shoot them. Hell. Might even make the place feel more like home.
The first one was really funny, especially the twist at the end. The second one caused me to melt into a puddle of d'aww. I wish I could draw because I would so be making fanart of this one if I could.
I loved them both, I'm glad you decided to post them here :)
Loved both of them, but i seriously hope you continue with the first. reading the bit about him living with his counterpart and a wizard for a week without either realizing just about killed me. It just seems like a hilarious situation for the both of them to be roommates.