Meeting Mr. Mundy (Sniper x reader Fanfiction)

Chapter 10: Slingshot Arm

⚠️ Warning ⚠️ Mild cursing and some terrible, terrible innuendos.

HeY hEeeyyyy (Yes I know I said 3-4 days but I was busy ok) so, I decided to squeeze Elvis Presley in there again, 'cuz you'll actually need the song for this chapter, huehue..

And, well, idk I hope this chapter compensates for being away for so long, my dudes :'3

Angst will actually be in the next ones so, enjoy some sap before I get into the heart-wrenching shit.

Enjoy!!!~

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"I spy with my little eye.."

Mick glances at your frowning features after a few seconds of silence, questioning your lack of usual noisiness.

"..Yah know, sheila, there ain't much to look at in the middle of nowhe-"

"Shush."

He rolls his eyes dismissively, adjusting his shades absentmindedly.

You snap your fingers in realization and smile, ready to wait for an answer.

"Something that starts with the letter 'S'-"

"Sand."

You stare at him dumbfounded. Mick stares back mockingly.

"How did you guess that so quickly?!?"

Mick let's out a huffy laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

"(Y/n), we're in the middle of a bloody desert.."

You frown once again. You're gonna really have to focus on this one.

Mick and you were currently sitting on the van's rusty roof, taking some fresh air after a scorching day of pushing the camper. You had yet to turn on the 3-ton vehicle, for fear of a sudden explosion of sorts.

It was a silly thought, you figured, but what if the motor had broken from the inside, creating a spark when you turned it on, causing a sudden combustion to happen by the non-existent gas leak dripping from the van's gas tank and provoking a catastrophic explosion?

You wouldn't take any chances.

That's why you were currently in the process of pushing a 12,000-pound camper across the New Mexico desert, because you slapped the keys out of Mick's hand when he tried to start up the van.

After spending 2 hours inside the van since you stopped pushing it to take a break, and almost melting because of the heat, (and rummaging through all of Mick's drawers for some form of entertainment and even turning up the radio a bit) you 'burrowed' Mick's brown hat while he took a nap, snatched a worn looking baseball from one of the bottom drawers next to the tiny bed and climbed on the van's roof.

The Aussie later discovered the lack of usual darkness covering his eyes; and the lack of your cheerful, chattery self.

And the obvious loud music from the van's radio.

So in a moment of desperation he bolted out of his beloved camper turned home, and discovered your relaxed form, sitting on the roof with his hat on, tossing what he soon discovered was Scout's old baseball in the air.

Mick loved his camper. It was his most prized possession. But now it was more of a microwave oven than a van, and he decided to keep you company on said van's roof.

And now you're here, playing 'I spy with my little eye' with Mick, scorching in the desert on top of a van, the radio's music a comforting background noise.