Behind the Shades - Sniper x Scout

-2-

(I also truly madly deeply believe scout has daddy issues)

I groaned, and rolled my eyes.

"A word." I said, wanting to keep this interaction short. Even though he likes to pretend we don't, everyone (excluding Scout, of course) knows that he is scouts father. He cares about scout, again though, he pretends he doesn't. He clearly doesn't want the team to know he has weak spots.

Back to the part where he cares about his son, and is very protective of him, I REALLY can't have him knowing about any infatuations between scout and I, especially from what happened earlier tonight. He would despise me, and likely take things to the extreme. If he knew I near fucked his son...

"Seigneur... Earth to sniper?" He spoke, lightning yet another cigarette.

At his voice I chugged the rest of my beer, slammed the glass down, and snapped my head to him.

"Yes, spy?" I hissed through my teeth.

He kept a straight face, and blew out a puff of smoke to his left. "I couldn't help but notice how nervous our demo-man was when he came back... you know, he came in the first place because scout was taking too long to retrieve you from your... cave." he smirked, then continued. "Also, I was told that you were moving in because your camper was trashed. So, Mundy." He leaned in, and I kept a straight face, even though he called me by my name.

"You weren't... violent with him, were you?" He whispered, showing the slightest bit of concern. My expression softened. I sighed and looked down, then back to him.

"Of course not, mate. He's my co-worker, why would I? 'Sides, it would create trouble during missions."

He hummed, then picked up my hand, holding it up by my palm. "Care to explain your knuckles, then?" He asked, like a mother interrogating her child for the broken vase.

Right, just before I started drinking at the camper, I got overwhelmed with stress, and took it out on my campers walls. There's probably some blood that dripped down the wall, from how intensely I was punching. My knuckles have probably just started to scab

I sighed, and told the truth. Not the whole truth, though. "I get very stressed, and when I get that stressed, I start hitting things, and as a result of hitting things, I feel like shit. Ultimately, I began drinking and broke a couple more things than I intended to. That about clear it up, love?" I grumbled out. I, of course, added 'love' to piss him off. Which I'm sure succeeded, however, he is very good at masking his emotions.

"Hmph. I'll be sure to ask demo, in that case. Maybe he'll be too drunk to know what he's saying, and rat you out. I don't know what's going on, but I will get to the bottom of this." Almost immediately after finishing, he turned swiftly on his heel and disappeared.

Scout swiftly and silently slid onto the bar stool next to me. "Geez, what's that guys problem?" I heard a familiar Boston accent grumble out. I was shocked, and jumped in my seat, gasping.

"What, man? Ya' social battery already dead?" He chuckled out. I smiled at his goofiness, and decided to brush the conversation just before off.

"Yeah, if I'm being honest, mate, this is already too much." I sighed out. "Ay, it's no prob man! Wanna head back to the barracks?" Scout said.

I went over the possible scenarios in my head (with spy), but in the end, I kinda don't fucking care. "Sure, mate. Mine or yours?" I asked.

"Yours, of course! I wanna see what you did with it!" He said, enthusiastically. I however, have other plans.

"Alright, then. Let's go." I grabbed his hand softly, and pulled him to my room. I smiled to myself.

If spy is watching, he is for sure seething.