1 . Name: Dr. Nicegloves @ 2012-10-27 17:33

So TF2 updates with a hilarious Halloween update and I proceed to write something not so fitting for the season. Ah well. I make no promises but this is something I am currently considering expanding upon!

---

Every weekend was the same. They would head to town together, picking up a new girl each time if they could. Jane always seemed to attract the pretty blondes, the ones with thick thighs and voluminous curves, pretty as the girls on the calendars in the Respawn rooms. Travis, on the other hand, would draw the dark haired beauties, with strong features and lush lips.

They turned up together at the bar, invite their dates, and would end up sticking together through the evening. During the drive to the club. Dancing with the girls. Ordering drinks. Finding a table to all talk together with. Then they would drop the girls off and drive on home. Sometimes there were diner dates, the two men sitting side by side with the women opposite. Sometimes it was a trip to the local sights, the foursome walking in a row.

The girls never lasted. The women varied greatly - some were loud, some were coy, some were dainty, some were brash - but after four dates, all got the message. They all noticed the same small clues, the tells that gave the game away. Each noticed that she wasn’t really a date at all. She was only a prawn, a paper thin veil to hide what was going on.

Because with the girls present, no-one would apparently see the way Travis and Jane looked at each other. The way Travis swung his arm around Jane’s shoulders as they walked. The way Jane would brush his shoulder against Travis’. How they laughed so openly and loudly together, leaning on each other for support. The small smiles they shared that was never directed at anyone else, let alone the women sitting right beside them.

It didn’t concern the men. The girls were a soft hum in the background of their weekend. A required sound. There were weekends without women. Visits to the gravelpits, to the gunshow, to the eye museum. But with the girls there they would quietly, almost unconsciously, close some of the distance between them. It was a different atmosphere.

With two blokes there was an expectation to be very masculine. With women involved, there was an opportunity for something else. The brush of the back of their hands. Looks shared over the shoulders of their dates as they danced. Trying to talk about it would only break it. It was something best left unspoken, not thought about. Whatever this was, trying to make it tangible could destroy it.

So each weekend was the same. Until the perceived betrayal.
No more girls, no more trips. Only the battlefield remained. But there was still something in the air between them. The moment they would lock eyes across the wastelands before charging for each other, the pause after one had fallen to the others feet. Jane solemnly murmurs a compliment. Travis sluggishly slurs some (usually) vengeful gibberish. It’s twisted and damaged but it’s still there, and to talk of it now would be mocking what it had been to begin with.