Spilt Coffee

Sniper sighed as he shivered under Spy's touches. "Why d'ya have to tease me so much, Spook?"

"You're just so easy to tease, mon ami," Spy drawled in Sniper's ear.

"Now relax, amour," Spy said, working his hands over Sniper's broad shoulders. "You're so tense."

"I.. it.. it's just been a while since I've done something like this," muttered Sniper.

Done something like what? Sniper figured that whatever Spy and he had was slowly turning into a relationship, if you could even call it that. The circumstances were strange due to, you know. Them being in a war and all. But for Sniper, it was still very new and very strange to be letting someone in his personal space. It was a big step letting someone into his camper, and now, standing in the small, cramped kitchen with a man stroking his back, his senses threatened to overwhelm him and made his heart pound and his neck blush.

"What's zhe matter, Bushman?" Spy's words snapped him back to reality. " A tough outdoorsman such as yourself surely isn't shy about a little.. affection, hm?"

Sniper chose to ignore that comment. "Well y'know, I was just tryna make meself a pot before dinner, before your sneaky ass had'ta come bargin in here."

"You drink too much coffee," hummed Spy. "Coming from me, that means something," Spy added.

"This one's decaf, love. I reckon it's awright," shrugged Sniper.

"Ah, what was zat? Did I catch a pet name in there?" smirked Spy, while wrapping himself around Sniper's waist.

"You're certainly playful t'night. You feelin' sick?" Sniper deadpanned.

"Oh, I'm certainly sick," Spy said, with Sniper rolling his eyes as he left his brewing pot to face the touchy man behind him. He stroked the fancy suit, chuckling a little at Spy's extravagance. "Wait, don't crease the suit." Spy told him. Sniper looked at him.

 "It's very expensive. I imported it yesterday from France," Spy said, matter-a-factly.

"Then take it off," shrugged Sniper. 

 "Oh, I mean. Not in that way, um, not tryna be- you don't-" Sniper found himself floundering again, mentally kicking himself for being so flustered. Spy had to chuckle a bit a the man's nervousness, and found his fondness for the red-faced sniper in front of him growing.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he smirked, sliding out of the blazer and placing it delicately on the chair. He moved close to the marksman and looked up expectantly. Staring into Sniper's shaded eyes, he wanted to see them more clearly. He removed his orange-tinted shades and set them behind the sniper on the marbled table. Who would've thought it? A clear grey-blue, like a cloudy spring sky.

"I- whatcha starin at?"

He was answered with a quick peck on the nose, and found himself softening at the cute action. Sniper wanted to kiss him. All the twinges in his heart told him so. But his breath was caught and he found himself unable to lean forward into Spy. Spy had been hanging around Sniper long enough to know what his shaky breath and averting eyes were trying to say, so he propped himself up, turned his head slightly, and kissed him.

Sighing through his nose, Sniper melted into the kiss and wrapped his hands around Spy's lower back. I am not having a heart attack, Sniper thought. This is fine, Sniper thought. Until he stepped backwards and felt his decaf cup of joe wobble behind him, and crash into the floor.

"NOT ZE SHOES, NOT ZE SHOES, oh GOD IT GOT ON MY SHOES," Spy yelled, detaching himself from Sniper and jumping out of the way.

Sniper stood shocked, then began to laugh. "Hah- I'm sorry, Spook, lemme get a rag."

"Do not THINK of getting zhat dirty dish rag near my shoes! Do not THINK of it!"

The rest of the time before dinner was spent dabbing fancy Italian leather with napkins and a certain rag, before falling into more gentle kisses, this time away from the kitchen.