From the annals of history, an old Soldier/Spy fill for the kink meme. ---------------------------------------------------------------- No one knew about war as much as the BLU Soldier did--except, of course, Sun Tzu, but he'd been dead for centuries and the prospects of an all-Sun-Tzu clone army were all but impossible, or so the Soldier was told every time he put in a requisition for one. So until the day his dream came true, he'd have to put up with the sorry sacks of maggots he was stuck with and try to whip them into shape as best he could. Number one on the Soldier's shit list was the Spy. He was French, so that meant an automatic negative eleventy billion points right there. And like all men of his occupation, he was a shifty, backstabbing coward who couldn't tell the truth to save his life. The Soldier had been tempted to murder the cheese-eating surrender monkey in his sleep with Shovel at first, but the Spy soon proved to be at least somewhat useful in being a complete pain in the ass to the other side to the same degree that he irritated his own team, if not more so. The Soldier was not in the policy of regretting a decision--second guessing was, after all, for pussies and losers--but he had to admit to himself, at least, that he'd cocked things up when the RED Spy had infiltrated their ranks. Every time he replayed the scene in his head, he discovered more details that he should have caught the first time around, and it galled him that he couldn't stop even one RED--a Spy, no less, one even more French than his BLU counterpart--from waltzing past their defenses like he owned the place and sauntering away with the Intelligence. What made things worse was that the BLU Spy refused to place any blame on anyone other than himself, as if he was expected to carrying the entire team on his shoulders alone. The Soldier didn't think that it had been a mistake to shoot at his own teammate on suspicion of being the enemy, but he was accustomed to the others--the Scout in particular--being quite vocal in their opinions of his leadership or decision-making abilities. It was unnerving to hear no such complaints from the Spy, not even so much as a single peep of discontentment directed at him to his face or behind his back--and he spent quite a few hours eavesdropping on the Spy's conversations just to be sure. The longer this matter went unaddressed, the more the Soldier felt he owed the Spy something. The Soldier wracked his brain long and hard for what he could offer the Spy before he gave up and went for the default solution of an apology blowjob. After all, it had yet to fail him. It took a few days of following the Spy around to ascertain his schedule to find the best time and place to approach him so they could have privacy, but the Soldier was persistent and sneakier than anyone gave him credit for. Even the Spy, who prided himself on surprising people, was too taken off guard to do anything except gape in open-mouthed surprise as the Soldier knelt down and got to work. The Spy was still trying to think of something to say when the Soldier finished the job, swallowing what he could before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and trying to ignore the awkward stirring in his own pants. "There. That'd better make us even," the Soldier growled. "Now, I need a goddamn drink."