Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sniper woke with a sense of unease prickling at the back of his mind. Groggily, he sat up, rubbed at his eyes and tried to follow the emotion back to its source.

Ah, yes.

The new BLU Spy was due to join the fight today. Sniper had no idea what he was going to be facing out there today. The BLU who'd retired had been a sour-faced old Spaniard who'd hardly said a word to him in all the time they'd fought against one another.

RED team had a bet going on where they thought the new BLU would be from. Sniper had put his money on him being a Frenchman to match their own. Scout had laughed at that, saying there's no way something as unlikely as that would happen. And then had gone and put his bet on the Spy being English. 'You know, like James Bond,' he'd explained.

Sniper threw the sheets off his bed and sat up. He yawned, showing off a flash of sharp teeth to no one in particular, and then stretched until his spine made some satisfying, yet worryingly loud, cracking sounds.

When he'd finished he let himself slouch forward, eyes drifting towards the mini fridge he kept in his van. Everyone knew Sniper's van was out of bounds. They thought it was because he liked his privacy (which he certainly did), but really, it was because of that fridge. All it would take would be for one of his teammates to open it and it would all be over.

He had his escape plan ready of course (a good assassin was prepared for any eventuality) but he hoped it would never come to that.

New Spy today. New BLU Spy today. That raised many questions, but for Sniper one stood out from the rest: How human do I want to be today?

Maybe 'want' wasn't actually the right question. How human do I need to be today? might be more suitable.

Sniper pulled himself off his bed with a grunt, the thin mattress creaking as he moved. He knelt down in front of the mini fridge and tugged the door open to inspect its contents like he did every single day.

Three full blood bags, type O. One about half empty, type AB. Two sealed containers of deer's blood, fresh. One small, nearly finished cup of rabbit's blood, not so fresh.

A reasonable supply. Enough to last him until he could fudge the records on Medic's next order and get more human blood for himself.

Sniper reached for the rabbit's blood with a grimace. He paused.

New Spy today.

His fingers drifted towards the opened blood bag.

Hmm.

He wasn't supposed to be allowing himself anymore human blood until Wednesday.

Sniper pulled the blood bag out of the fridge.

New BLU Spy today.

He'd allow himself just a little.

Sniper turned up for the battle five minutes early as usual, clutching a thermos flask of coffee, also as usual. It was battered and slightly rusty and perhaps not the cleanest looking of things. Sniper needed to keep it that way though. He couldn't afford one of his teammates deciding to steal some of his coffee. He had no idea if humans could taste the blood lacing it as clearly as he could, but he didn't want to find out.

'Oh come on, you can't tell me you're cold!' Demoman said as he wandered into the room, catching sight of Sniper's fingers wrapped tightly around the hot thermos.

Sniper said nothing. Demoman (and Spy) kicked up a fuss every time he mentioned he felt cold. These days, Sniper tried to avoid bringing it up in case he got more cries of, 'But we're fighting in a desert! You can't possibly be cold!' There was only so many times he could lie and say that Australia was just so much hotter that New Mexico left him feeling chilled.

In reality, his semi-permanently cold hands and feet were down to something else entirely, but not something he could bring up with their dear Medic.

'I'm gonna be the first to bat that new BLU's head in!' Scout assured them when he arrived. In ones and twos the rest of the team turned up, with Pyro and Engineer cutting it close. They talked amongst themselves about the new BLU as they waited for the match to begin, discussing theories and making last minute bets.

Sniper took a hasty sip from his thermos as the Administrator's countdown boomed out over the tannoy system. Warmth flooded through him, leaving his mind awake and alert.

New BLU Spy today. Best to be prepared for anything.

Or anyone.

The administrator's voice sounded across the loudspeaker: Mission begins in 60 seconds. The new BLU Spy took a breath and took stock of himself and the men around him.

So far they were about what he expected. Some of them were battle crazed lunatics, others were cool professionals. He was, of course, in the second category, along with the Sniper, the Engineer and the Heavy. Though, to be fair, he hadn't seen anyone in battle yet. His opinions might be different after today.

He could barely believe the Scout was here, being so young and brash. It seemed like he was still a child. The Pyro set him on edge, that mumbling monster with shiny black eyes like a giant insect. The Soldier and the Demoman's brand of enthusiasm didn't phase him much, though going into battle drunk seemed like a terrible idea.

The one who really set him on edge, besides the Pyro, was the Medic. Firstly, his workspace was an unsanitary mess of pigeons and bird shit, and secondly, the man had no qualms with removing his heart while he was awake. It was an unsettling day, to say the least.

Mission begins in 30 seconds.

He was excited for the new work. This place was new and different. Men were basically immortal. He would experience death, or what passed for death here. He would put all his skills to use here, get to play with the newest technology and kill enemies. The suit and balaclava were uncomfortable for him for now, but he would adjust. Same as he would adjust to disguising as other men.

Mission begins in 10 seconds.

Regrettably, he dropped his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his heel. That little red glow was practically begging a Sniper to blow his head off.

His hands brushed quickly over his things.

Five

Revolver.

Four

Balisong.

Three

Sapper.

Two

Disguise kit.

One

The door opened and his teammates dashed through. He followed at a more leisurely pace, watching the corners and listening hard.

Time to prove himself.

Chapter Text

The RED uniforms came into view soon enough and the Spy immediately focused in on their Medic, a good target, busy following the Heavy. He cut through a building and slipped out a window as soon as they passed, falling in step behind them and forcing his knife between the Medic’s shoulder blades. With a short cry he fell. Spy cloaked to avoid attracting attention, watching for a moment until the man’s body disappeared.

It was queer to watch, but interesting. He was relieved to see it, even though he trusted that respawn was a real thing here. It helped to see it with his own eyes.

The Heavy turned on him, gun spinning. Spy flattened himself to the wall, doing his best to stay silent.

There, there!

Sniper frantically scanned the area down the sight of his rifle. He'd seen the BLU Spy, he'd seen him!

If you wanted to find an enemy Spy, the best thing to do was either stick around in one place long enough for him to pay you a visit, or to watch your teammates. Any teammate heading the wrong way could be a Spy. Any teammate glancing behind themselves might have heard a Spy. And any teammate falling dead from a stab to the back had definitely been the victim of a Spy.

He'd cloaked again though, the sneaky little bugger. The uncloak, stab and re-cloak had all been very quick and smooth. Too quick and smooth for Sniper to catch him.

That was bad news. Either this Spy was a natural or he'd had experience at another base. Or maybe he'd just got lucky.

Sniper scanned the ground, looking for any sign of movement in case the Spy had stuck around.

There!

A tuft of dry grass pressed into the ground by an invisible foot. The Spy had flattened himself against the wall while a suspicious Heavy scanned the area carefully, minigun at the ready.

Sniper didn't know how tall the Spy was. He didn't even know which foot that was. He couldn't risk trying for a headshot and missing the new Spy altogether.

Knowing it was a dirty, unprofessional thing to do, Sniper shot the Spy's foot.

First there was the feeling of an impact, then heat, then Spy was screaming. His cloak fell as he was shot and he crumpled to the ground, hitting his side. He’d been shot in the foot. The foot! It hadn’t been the Heavy, where had it come from?
There was a small red dot on the ground near him and he focused on it in his shock. The Sniper. How had he picked him out when he was invisible? Why had he shot him in the foot? Was it just an accident?
Pathetically, Spy scrambled away from the angry Heavy, but it was too late. The minigun started up again and soon enough he was being torn into by bullet after bullet as the giant man roared. It was over mercifully fast and he felt a sickening feeling in his stomach as though he was in a lurching elevator. Everything rushed past him and he was on his knees, in the respawn room, blinded by the white tile of the floor, his hands slowly coming into focus in front of his face.
Groaning, he stood, holding his stomach. That had been more uncomfortable than anything. The pain was nearly forgotten, as though his mind had just locked it away now that he wasn’t feeling it. He tentatively put weight on his foot and found himself whole. No pain, no tingling, no numbness.
Gritting his teeth, Spy headed back out into the field. He knew who his next target should be and he headed back towards where he’d been shot, to look for vantage points for sniper fire. It wouldn’t take him long to find out where the Sniper was hiding.

Well that had been...unprofessional. Sniper took a large swig of his laced coffee and grabbed up his things. Time to move. Definitely time to move. That new Spy was gonna be PISSED and Sniper couldn't blame him.

That scream...

Sniper had flinched at that.

The way the Spy had just flat out crumpled to the ground would have been funny if it wasn't for that scream. Him pathetically trying to scramble away from the grinning Heavy too. Though maybe the flash of fear Sniper saw on the man's face would have been enough to sober him then.

This was the new guy after all. Sniper hadn't been backstabbed by him enough times to hate him yet.

Thermos, rifle, kukri and backpack all accounted for, Sniper headed for the next building over, hoping that the Spy's inexperience meant it would take awhile for him to track Sniper down. The man had looked straight up at his nest after that shot after all. He would know who had taken it, even if they'd never met before.

Once he'd set-up in his new location, Sniper reached automatically for his flask and paused.

How human did he want to be right now?

Not very. He wanted to know straight away if the Spy was sneaking up on him.

How human did he need to be?

Good question. If he reacted earlier than should be humanly possible, the Spy might become suspicious. Same if he moved or healed too fast. The first he could fake, the second two he couldn't

One more sip. Just to boost his awareness for a little while.

Just one more sip.

It took Spy some time to get up to the Sniper nest he’d spotted. There was no sign of the man by the time he got there. He cursed internally. If he’d been thinking, perhaps he would have brought some wire and he could have laid a simple trap for the Sniper. Even a non-fatal one would be satisfying.  

Once he was back down on the battlefield he took some time to stab a nearby Scout with some relish. The boy was loud and boisterous, easy to follow.

Where would a Sniper go next?

Spy looked up to the vantage points around them and took a likely guess, making his way up through the old, worn building, taking extra care not to let the floorboards creak under his shoes. He felt along the wall, feeling for vibrations of anyone moving. It wasn’t very helpful, however, with rockets and bombs going off not far away. As hard as he could focus on listening, he couldn’t hear anything from up above; but that didn’t mean the Sniper wasn’t up there.

Sniper's problem, well of them anyway, was that once he got focused down the scope of his rifle, the rest of the world had a habit of slipping out of sight and out of mind. Forgetting that he was trying to keep himself hidden from that new Spy (and the rest of the BLUs too), Sniper started muttering to himself without even realising he was doing it.

'C'mon, C'mon you little bastard, stick your head back out just one more time...'

'Great place for a sentry, egghead. Just where I'd put it if I knew there was an enemy sniper on the enemy team...'

'Now where are you, little newbie? Where are you...?'

For a little while at least, the thermos stood, forgotten, next to his left foot.

There was a soft voice up above and a few shots rang out, definitely from one of the rooms above. With a smirk, the Spy slipped up the last of the stairs and hesitated in the doorway. There was the Sniper.

He was long and lean, wearing a slouch hat and muttering to himself as he looked through his scope. There was a backpack and a thermos of coffee on the floor next to him, as well as a very large knife, more like a machete than anything. Clearly he was comfortable fighting in fairly close quarters.

Curiosity and pride got the best of Spy. He briefly considered using his revolver -safely, from the doorway- but he wanted to make an impression. It was his first day after all, and the man had shot him through the foot. The memory of which was strangely distant, but still irked him.

He walked closer, keeping his weight on the outside of each foot as he did. His balisong flickered silently over his gloved hand.

'Just gotta get... just gotta...' Sniper's mutters trailed off as he heard the whisper-quiet sound of someone lithe and light-footed padding towards him.

'Just gotta wait for 'im to stick 'is head back out again...' the continued, not wanting to give away yet that he'd heard.

'Never mind, next time.'

Sniper opened his mouth to draw in the scent, wanting to gather as much information about this man as he could without turning around.

He blinked, a frown crossing his face as he stared down his scope without really seeing anything.

Sniper breathed in deeply again.

Damn.

It sounded creepy even in his own head, but this new Spy smelt very appealing. That happened every now and then. You'd be walking along, minding your own business until out of nowhere some random person caught your attention. Sniper still felt mortified whenever he thought about the time a woman hit him around the face with her handbag for 'creeping' on her daughter. He couldn't blame the woman. Her daughter couldn't have been more than fourteen and he'd just been staring at her, breathing heavily to draw in her scent.

It wasn't about physical attraction. It wasn't about lust. It wasn't about hunger levels. It wasn't even about blood type as far as he knew. Just sometimes you bumped into someone who really made your mouth water.

Sniper swallowed. There was already a pressure building up just below the hinges in his jaw as his body began to produce venom in response to the stimuli. He swallowed again, willing it to stop, but it wasn't a reaction he could control. The fangs he could though. Hopefully.

Without even meaning to, he opened his mouth and breathed in again.

Cigarette smoke. Not a brand he recognised. Something a bit smoother and spicier than he could identify. Not too recent. Not stale either though.

Clothes clean on today. Bio laundry detergent. He recognised it but couldn't remember the name.

Deodorant. The alcohol and aluminium in it standing out more than any added fragrance.

Sweat. Not the sharp smell of old sweat that was all humans could pick up on. Sugars and salts and other scents that were unique to each individual.

Cologne. Not too overpowering. He wouldn't want it to be, not when he had to be able to sneak up on people. A rich, vibrant scent that put him mind of a fine whiskey, mixed with something pleasantly sharper with just a hint of musk.

Leather shoes, highly polished. Kid leather gloves.

Soap.

Shampoo.

A hint of mint.

The tang of polished, sharpened metal.

None of that explained why the strange Spy's scent transfixed him.

Or why he still hadn't moved yet, even though the man was just two paces away from him.

Spy stepped into Sniper’s body to give him less of a target if he struck back. The blade of his knife aimed for the side of the man’s neck.

Sniper's snapped to attention as he heard the soft susurrus of fabric-on-fabric and the slight creak of leather. He didn't manage to move out of the way entirely, the blade slicing through the muscle at the back of his neck. If he'd reacted just a split second later, the knife would have caught his spine.

'Shit!' The pain and the Spy's scent threw him off entirely, leaving his brain scrambled to come up with a plan.

He pushed himself forward to the window. It was as far as he could get away without defenestrating himself. Sniper swung around to face his new enemy, one hand clapped against the back of his neck, the other reaching for the kukri.

He was fast.  Faster than his normal at least. But would it be enough?

He’d moved! Gritting his teeth, Spy tried to keep right beside his target. That great big knife was alright for close combat, but not as close as Spy’s was. The little butterfly knife could easily slip between someone’s ribs while Spy was pressed against them, whereas the kukri would have to be stabbed almost towards Sniper’s body if he wanted to hit his target.

Spy stepped right into Sniper’s space, where he was pressed against the window, the knife changing positions in his hands automatically as he stabbed upwards, under the man’s ribs.

'Oof!' Sniper's whole body jolted. It felt as though someone had punched all the air out his lungs. He'd been stabbed enough times to recognise the difference though.

He'd expected to turn around and find the Spy a pace or two behind him, and probably already backing up. He was the new guy after all. He should be uncertain. Wary. Timid even.

Instead, Sniper found himself face to face with the new Spy right up close to him.

He didn't even have time to finish drawing his kukri, and even if he had, he wouldn't have had room to use it. His other hand slipped away from his neck numbly as he found himself staring at the new BLU Spy.

He was younger than the last one, his brown eyes narrowed in concentration.

Sniper knew he should be fighting back, should be doing anything to lash out before he died. Spitting and snarling and sneering and insulting.

But the BLU Spy was so close.

So very close.

He couldn't stop staring.

Couldn't stop himself from breathing in the Spy's scent.

He was so close.

Spy twisted the knife, pressed in so hard against Sniper that he was forced into the one remaining pane of glass. The window creaked behind him but he didn’t dare step back yet. The Sniper was in shock but he could still be very dangerous, especially if men could grow used to dying and fight through it.

This close, Spy gave him a good look over. The Sniper was tall, at least a few inches above Spy, he looked… odd. His expression was strange and it made Spy feel almost uncomfortable. This was not his first time being so close to a dying man and he had never once seen an expression like this.

Still, he kept his knife pressed in as deep as he could, his other hand grabbing at Sniper’s wrist to ensure the large blade didn’t come into play.

A quiet groan escaped Sniper's mouth as the knife twisted in his ribs. It hurt. Hurt horribly, he knew that. Yet somehow he felt disconnected from the pain.

He couldn't bring himself to move. To think. To react in anyway. He just kept staring at the new Spy.

Close. So close.

It was only when the Spy grabbed hold of his wrist that he reacted, eyes widening at the contact. Even through the gloves he felt as though he would feel every fingerprint pressing against his skin.

Waiting there as the Sniper died pressed against him, Spy watched to see him disappear. If he could feel him disappear.

Sniper felt light headed. Cold. Disconnected.

His legs gave out slowly, in stages, as though he was he was being forced to sit down reluctantly.

He found his free hand clutching the spy's arm weakly. He couldn't remember doing that.

The Spy was so close.

All it would take was one little bite.

One little bite to save himself.

Sniper's lips parted.

Darkness swept over him like a wave.

Then there was nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Light.

Solid ground beneath his feet.

Cracked white tiles.

The soft swish of a ceiling fan.

Rockets exploding in the distance.

Sniper stood there, blinking.

That Spy's gonna be the death of me, Sniper thought without noticing the irony.

Dread weighed down on him.

Without thinking about it, he breathed in deep, searching for even the slightest hint of the Spy's scent. There was none. Of course.

He wanted to get close to that Spy again.

Needed to get close to that Spy again.

Shit.

Chapter Text

The very solid man faded like smoke in his arms. It made Spy’s stomach drop for a moment and he licked his lips. Sniper’s things had vanished too, though a spatter of blood remained on Spy’s suit and knife.

With a smirk, Spy headed down to see if he could find the man again before he managed to climb back up to a good vantage point. He checked his watch quickly. This battle had gone quicker than he’d expected. They were running out of time. All the excitement of it had made the time fly by.

As soon as he was outside again, Sniper found himself casting around for the Spy's scent. It was lost to him among the tang of cordite, metal and scorched wood.

He wanted to set out and find that Spy as soon as possible. Just thinking about him made the back of Sniper's neck prickle in a way that should have been unpleasant. Instead, it spoke of anticipation.

Sniper shook his head roughly.

No.

Nope.

No.

He turned away and started heading for a good sniping spot as far away as possible from where he'd encountered the Spy. It was for the best.

Once he got down to the main floor, Spy spotted the enemy Soldier running past. He followed quietly, having to hurry to keep up with the large man. He hadn’t been noticed.

The Soldier was carrying a large rocket launcher and suddenly he aimed it at his own feet, leaping into the air and firing. Spy, right on the man’s heels, was blasted away by the explosion, landing against the wall of a nearby building in a heap.

He blinked in confusion at the unexpected and explosive turn of events, mind dazed and fuzzy. He wasn’t respawning… he was just slumped there helplessly, lungs making a terrible sound as his chest heaved. Spy didn’t want to look down at his legs; he wasn’t sure what he’d see if he did. He didn’t feel a lot of pain, just shock.

Sniper couldn't concentrate. Couldn't keep his rifle steady enough to make a single decent job. He tried to blame it on the coffee, the remains of which he'd gulped down all at once in an attempt to distract himself from his current problem. It hadn't worked.

Even with his senses heightened, his constant distraction kept getting himself killed.

Nervous, restless energy raced through Sniper as he paced up and down his nest. It wasn't enough. He had to leave the stifling room. He set off in no particular direction, letting his feet carry him wherever they wanted.

Sniper wasn't stupid though, he still kept an eye out for danger. Which was why his head whipped around as soon as he heard the sound of nearby rocket jump. The RED Soldier soared past him like a bright red, demented eagle. Sniper relaxed. Until his eyes drifted to the spot the Soldier had jumped from.

Oh.

Oh no.

His feet had carried him straight to the Spy.

Of course they had.

The smell of blood hung heavily in the air.

Sniper decided it would be best to turn around and walk the other way. Instead, he found himself approaching.

A moment later he was hovering near the dying Spy, staring down at him.

The Spy's legs were shattered. He couldn't move. Couldn't get away.

Sniper's hands were clammy. His legs, shaking. He couldn't stop staring.

There was so much blood.

Spy was starting to feel vague and fuzzy. His thoughts were unclear and disorganized, his vision slowly tunnelling. His hearing was mostly a buzzing sound, and his heartbeat pounding. The rocket must have damaged his hearing, he thought.

There was a pair of boots in front of him. And someone standing in them. It seemed to take a long time for him to look up. It was the RED Sniper. Unless he was imagining this. Perhaps he was in respawn and this was some sort of dream? Maybe he was really going to die.

He tried to speak to the man, but only a few sounds came out and he wasn’t sure if they meant anything.

Sniper’s face had that unsettling look on it again. What did it mean? What was he thinking? Was this just a memory of the look he had earlier? Still, what did it mean? No one had ever looked at him like that before. It wasn’t hatred, or lust, or anger, or fear. It was odd.

The Spy was so helpless. So vulnerable. His brown eyes dull, his lips moving with silent words Sniper couldn't read.

Sniper could feel his own elevated heartbeat in response. His own heavy breathing.

He knelt down next to the Spy and hesitated. Licking his lips nervously, be reached out one calloused hand to the Spy's jaw and tipped his head back.

The Spy's neck may have been covered but Sniper could clearly see the lines of it through the thin balaclava. He wondered how far under the Spy's shirt it went. How much he'd have to tug free to expose the column of his neck. A shiver of anticipation ran down Sniper's spine.

He leant in closer, changing the angle.

And slit the Spy's throat with his kukri.

The smell of fresh blood swamped him. Sniper snapped his eyes shut, clenching his jaw as hard as he could against the fangs threatening to burst through his gums.

He wouldn't let himself move, Not an inch Not an inch.

There was fresh, hot blood spattered across his shirt, sticking it to his chest.

Sniper tried to hold his breath but couldn't. It didn't matter. He just had to stay utterly still for another few seconds.

A soft animal whimper escaped through his clenched teeth as he lost the fight.

Copper flooded his mouth as his fangs slid into place. His eyes snapped open, pupils blown so wide it looked as though no iris remained.

The Spy's body faded.

The Administrator's voice boomed over the speakers, announcing their win.

Sniper took a great shuddering breath.

Thank God. That had been so close. He couldn't have left the Spy to do slowly, painfully, like that. For one thing, it wouldn't have been professional. For another, the Spy wouldn't have faded in time.

He’d been tempted before of course, by dying enemies and teammates before. But not like this. This went beyond temptation and entered some other, desperate realm, that he had no name for,

This new Spy was going to make life even more difficult than he’d feared.

Spy found himself wobbling on the respawn room floor, catching himself against the wall and clutching his stomach. Had Sniper really been there?

The last thing he remembered was Sniper kneeling next to him. To put him out of his misery, presumably. That was kind of him, at least. Though he’d been in so much shock he hadn’t really felt like he was suffering. Maybe he just couldn’t remember it. That was alright.

And that expression. Spy’s entire vision had narrowed to it. Sniper had finally closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to watch. But that didn’t fit with what Spy knew of the Sniper. Professional mercenaries generally didn’t have to close their eyes when they killed a man.

There was something odd about that Sniper, and being a Spy, he expected to get to the bottom of it. Whether he’d liked the answers he found or not

Chapter Text

None of the RED team noticed Sniper’s absence because it was normal. Except he wasn't hauled up in his van like they'd assume, but running through the forest behind the base. Scout thought he was the king of running but he'd never tried racing a wound-up vampire Sniper who was desperate to get as far away from his problems as possible.

Well, problem.

That damn newbie BLU...

Sniper had started working here as hazing for himself. Limited time for hunting. Constantly surrounded by human beings. Exposed to blood every day. It was torture. Or at least, it had been. Gradually, over the year or so he'd been here, he'd adapted. Sniper had been doing so well. He hadn't bitten a single merc. Scratch that, he hadn't bitten a single person ever.

But he'd also never come across a human being that drew his attention so sharply. Even out here, two miles from the base, Sniper found himself itching to turn around and head straight for the BLU base.

He wanted that BLU Spy.

He was going to get that BLU Spy whether he liked it or not.

'He' being Sniper himself.

He knew it.

Sniper returned for dinner to avoid suspicion but the sausages and mash Demoman had cooked tasted like plastic to him and did nothing to make him feel full. A sensation nagged at him, one that was somewhere between thirst and hunger but satisfied by neither food nor drink.

He found himself gulping down coffee after coffee all the same. He'd forced an addiction to it on himself to help cope with the other craving. It was a tried and tested method and coffee seemed a better alternative to what some of the other vampires he knew used to try and control themselves.

Usually someone would have something to say about Sniper's excessive coffee drinking, but tonight all talk was about the new BLU Spy.

Sniper listened intently to any little titbit the others could provide about the man. No one had much information Sniper didn't already know. They didn't have much to go at all really.

'Just another skinny little blue snake who thinks he can get away destroying all yeh good work.' Engineer said, glowering around the table from under his hard hat as though any one of them might be the Spy in disguise. 'I'm gonna show that lil' sonuvabitch that he's messing with the wrong sentrys, don't you worry.'

It was unsurprising that no one had a nice word to say about the guy, but Sniper thought everyone seemed even more volatile than he would have expected.

'It's 'cos he did good, isn't it?' Sniper spoke up near the end of the meal. Everyone looked his way. It was the first time he'd spoken up all evening. 'Why we're all so pissed at him, I mean.' Even as Sniper said it he realised that he wasn't annoyed at the Spy himself at all. Then again, he was biased. 'We expected the new BLU to be as green as anything, but it sounds as though he held his own today.'

That started off an argument that only ended when they moved onto discussing who won the bet on the BLU's nationality.

'I heard him talking to their Demoman,' Spy said. 'He's French.'

Sniper was so distracted that it took him a moment to realise why money was being thrust reluctantly in his direction.

That night Sniper's head was filled with images of the enemy Spy underneath him as he sank his fang's deep into the his neck. He kept imaging again and again how it would feel to have the Spy's skin give beneath his teeth. And how it would taste to have blood flood across his tongue.

He fell asleep unable to decide if he wanted the slight tremble he imagined running through the Spy's body to be from fear, exhaustion or excitement..

Sniper dreams were filled with mazes of billowing blue fabric surrounding him on all sides. He fought his way through them, searching, searching for something he wanted. Something he needed. Whatever it was, he couldn't find it.

Sniper woke in the morning feeling unrested and unsatisfied. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw blue.

By the time the day was over and Spy had had his shower and gotten a clean change of clothes, he felt exhausted. It had been hard work, a lot more running than he preferred, a lot more cold sweat and fear.

His team was still new to him and he wasn’t particularly keen on chatting them up. Luckily they seemed to have their own routines and his presence didn’t change much, apparently. He’d gotten a few friendly hellos and questions, but he’d kept his answers short and hadn’t volunteered any more conversation than necessary. They’d left him to think and eat his dinner- something decidedly German in origin. Not his favourite, but filling after so much work.

Spy took stock of the battle slowly as he ate, silently, running through everything that had happened. Did respawn always make memories so odd and confusing? He could barely remember what had happened when. That alone made him feel uneasy. He liked to be able to remember things exactly as they happened.

The Medic and the Heavy were a great team. Picking off the Medic was a good idea, but only if he could take out the Heavy too or escape safely. Thinking about that immediately brought him to the Sniper shooting him in the foot. He must have seen Spy’s footprints or the dust he’d kicked up. He’d have to take more care when he was cloaked.

All the men seemed to be about what he’d expected, except for the Sniper. He’d been odd. Perhaps working here too long made people odd. No, that couldn’t be it, the RED Sniper hadn’t been here the longest. Others would be showing signs of it if that was the problem. Maybe he could ask someone about him.

The BLU Engineer seemed the best bet, he’d been friendly, he was intelligent and not nearly as loud as most of the other men. Spy would make a few more observations about the RED Sniper and then he’d go talk to his teammate about him. It wouldn’t do to ask for favours so soon.

Plate clean, Spy said goodnight to the remaining team members in the mess hall and headed to his small room. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he closed his door and was alone.

He had no trouble sleeping that night, as tired as he was. He woke twice feeling as though he were falling, heart pounding, chest heaving. It didn’t take long to fall back to sleep, even with the adrenaline rushing through him. If he dreamed, he remembered nothing of them.

Sniper stared tiredly at the contents of his fridge, just as he did every morning.

He really wanted the last of that opened blood bag. It wasn’tt as though there was much left.

He hadn't been due to have any yesterday though, and drinking it daily would set him back to where he'd been before he joined RED. Sniper frowned. He'd been working hard to push his limits. Even got himself a job where he'd come into contact with human blood everyday.

To begin with that had caused a slight blip in his progress but he'd been doing really well. Until now.

There was only a little left. What harm could it do? He needed some of the stronger stuff to calm the pangs in his stomach and quench the pain in his throat that he knew he would have all day. And all because of that bloody new Spy.

Sniper tried his best to ignore the Spy that morning. It didn't work. With almost a week's worth of blood rations inside him, all of Sniper's senses were far more honed and alert than any human's could be. He found himself instinctively looking in seemingly random directions without understanding why, only to spot some tell-tale sign the Spy was there a moment later. It happened so many times that it left Sniper unsettled. He'd even moved away to where he thought the Spy was least likely to be only to find he'd set himself up overlooking the Spy's hunting grounds again.

He shot the BLU every time. It wasn't subtle. It wasn't the best idea. But at least it kept the Spy in respawn and off the battlefield as much as possible. It was better for both of them that way.

After lunch, Sniper hit the vampire equivalent of a sugar crash. He'd drunk more human blood in a short time than his body had adapted to dealing with, and now he was suffering for it.

Sniper grumbled to himself as he realised the last of his coffee was already gone. He knew that vamps who took fresh blood straight from the source rarely suffered from the crashes old human and animals blood caused. But best to suffer through a headache and dulled senses than risk becoming a slave to his instincts.

The second day was a hundred percent worse for Spy than the first. No matter where he went or how stealthy he was, Sniper seemed to have a sixth sense as to where he was. He quickly lost track of how many times he was sent through respawn. Seething silently, he tried to stay out of view of the tower the Sniper was holed up in. There was no way he was going to get close without getting shot at, so he wasn’t going to try for Sniper.

But the Engineer and his machines were fairly easy targets; the stout man was carrying a heavy toolbox further out into the field, leaving his sentry temporarily alone. It was a matter of a minute to place a sapper and watch as electricity arced across the machine.

He’d not made much of an impression this time around, but at least he hadn’t been entirely useless! Feeling far more cheerful than he had a minute ago, Spy decided to try the Sniper’s tower once more. He could hear the roar of his own Heavy as he made a charge across the field. That ought to be enough of a distraction.

Sniper groaned and put his rifle down to massage his temples. 'Urgh,' he grumbled to himself. Staring down the scope for too long was starting to make his eyesight go patchy. Damn crashes. He felt like a newbie vamp all over again. He didn't think he'd be getting many decent shots off this afternoon. It was probably for the best; that way his score average for the day would even out after all those kills on the BLU Spy. He must have shot the poor bastard at least eight times in one morning. Anyone who noticed would most likely chalk it up to the Spy being a newbie, with yesterday's success just being beginner's luck.

A roaring battle cry caught his eye. With a groan he hefted up his rifle. The BLU Heavy. Easy. Sniper took the shot. And missed.

'Oh for fuck's sake...' he muttered to himself as he lined up another shot. He hit his target this time, but just for a clumsy body shot that the BLU Medic running behind the Heavy soon fixed up.

'Just stand still for a second, won't yah mate?' Crash or no crash, he had a reputation to maintain.

Spy saw the Heavy take a hit from sniper fire and was surprised to find it had just been a body shot. Heavy’s head was still very much intact. Spy smirked. The Sniper must have used up all his luck this round.

There was the Engineer at the base of the tower. Spy stayed out of his line of sight until he was close, then pulled him into the building with a garrote wire around his throat. Gloved hands held the wooden handles at either end and he tightened it. It wasn’t long before the Engineer ceased his struggles and collapsed. A few more seconds and he passed from unconsciousness to death, and the Spy pulled his wire free.

Though the knife was fairly quiet, it was also messier. He’d used a garrote in the past and had only thought to bring it out this time around.

Heading silently up to the Sniper’s nest, Spy didn’t even bother to watch the Engineer’s body disappear. Respawn was already starting to become familiar. He’d certainly been through it enough times today, thanks to the man he was now intent on killing.

Chapter Text

Sniper raised his thermos to his lips before remembering it was empty. 'Great, just great,' he muttered to himself. Maybe he should try and get himself put through respawn to give him the chance to go and get more. It had better be just normal coffee though. More's the pity.

He fancied going hunting tonight after the battle. A nice live deer was just what he needed to take his mind off of the BLU Spy problem.

Talking of which... Sniper raised his rifle to his eye, scanning the battlefield below him for any hints of blue smoke. Where was that guy....?

The Sniper was muttering to himself. He was soon distracted again, looking down the barrel of his rifle. Spy couldn’t help but smirk. He ought to be looking behind himself.

Since Sniper had the rifle held up close to his face, Spy wasn’t sure he could get the wire around Sniper’s neck without catching the rifle too. Regrettably, he switched to his knife, stepped into Sniper’s space and drove the knife between his ribs.

Sniper's hands tightened around the rifle instinctively. A shot went off, embedding itself harmlessly in the ground below.

He made a small, hitching sound in the back of his throat and then fell silent. Completely silent. Completely still.

He knew he was Schrödinger's Sniper, both alive and dead at the same time.

This had to be a fatal wound. A good spy never left any other. He was still breathing though. Still technically alive. How many more moments until something seized up or shut down? How long until his heart gave up? Pulling the knife out would probably do it, Sniper knew.

He must have really pissed the Spy off with all those headshots for him to have gone for this instead of a quick backstab. Strangely though, he preferred this. It left them alone together for just a little bit longer.

Sniper knew he shouldn't be thinking that way.

Knew this man should just be another expendable enemy to him.

With what might be his final breath, Sniper parted his lips to draw in the Spy's scent.

Spy watched that odd and rapturous expression overtake Sniper’s pain and again felt distinctly uncomfortable. Did this man enjoy dying? Was it merely an effect of respawn? Was it Spy in particular?

If he hadn’t been such a thorn in Spy’s side during battle Spy might have ignored him completely, stayed away from the puzzling man and avoided thinking about how Sniper reacted in his presence each time.

Spy withdrew his knife and stepped back. Sniper had a few more breaths at least, but he likely wouldn’t have the strength to stand with the damage Spy had done to him internally. This time, stabbing his foe didn’t seem like quite enough.

This time, when Sniper disappeared, Spy quickly sat and took out a bit of wire and a sapper. Using his knife, he dislodged the battery and wedged it against the outside of the door frame. Attaching the wire from one side of the door to the other was quick work; the building was old and it wasn’t hard to find a few loose nails to wrap the wire tightly around. Gloved hands attached the wire to the battery carefully, then with a smirk, he delicately stepped over the trap and headed downstairs. Sniper likely wouldn’t return to this nest right away, but when he did there would be a nasty shock waiting for him, hopefully one loud enough to attract the attention of an enemy and get him killed.

It was a pity he had to keep the wire so low so as not to be seen. A shock from this trap to the forehead would throw a man backwards, maybe even part way down the stairs. Against the Sniper’s ankles it would only trip him forward and entangle him with a vicious shock. Even if his target did see the wire, by chance, he’d likely try to grab it barehanded rather than step over it. Electrical burns weren’t pretty, especially on the hand.

If Sniper kept up his nearly miraculous quota of headshots, Spy was going to have to get very creative with his traps. He couldn’t bring too many supplies onto the field but he was good at improvising.

God, Sniper  felt like shit. Three more trips through respawn. Two more bodyshots. Only one headshot.

Sniper decided it was probably best to keep himself to the outskirts of the battlefield. His teammates often forgot about him when there wasn't something specifically in their way that they needed sniping, but they were much more likely to pay attention to him if they saw a couple of bad shots than if they saw none at all. It was much easier to forget about something when it isn't there.

That brought him back to the nest the BLU Spy last killed him. There was only half an hour left in the match. Sniper was tired. His head hurt. His back hurt. He'd ran out of coffee.

He wasn't paying attention. Didn't usually need to watch where his feet were going like this, no Spy he'd ever met had gone in for trap wires.

To say it came as a shock would both be the literal truth and an understatement.

The wire caught Sniper on his ankles, his forward momentum sending him crashing to the floor. He yelped as the volts snapped through him, jerking his legs up and away from the trap with a gasp.

He'd been electrocuted by horse fencing before. And sheep, and even cattle. This had been worse than any of those.

Sniper's heart beat uncomfortably fast as he lie on the floor, bottom half of his feet in the air and waited to die.

A moment passed.

Then another.

Where was the fatal wound? The bullet? What had hit him? What had tripped him?

Spy knew it might be bad for business but he couldn’t help sticking around the nest where he’d set up the trap. If he caught Sniper today he wanted to know it.

He managed to sap a few of Engineer’s buildings and generally make a nuisance of himself to the short, stocky Texan. He really did enjoy causing so much havoc after watching Engineer build his machines. And stabbing the man in the back or garrotting him when he got the chance only made it all that much sweeter.

Unfortunately the Pyro quickly wised up to his tricks and sent Spy through respawn a couple of times, but still, Spy stuck close to the Engineer’s nest, as well as the trap he’d laid for Sniper.

Not long after he’d returned from respawn himself, he heard a crash and a yelp from up in Sniper’s nest. With a grin, he made his way quickly and quietly up the stairs, cloaking when he neared the top just to watch Sniper’s reaction. He was still on the floor, looking like a stunned rabbit.

Sniper peeled himself off the ground and looked around in confusion. He went to rub the stinging skin across his ankles and hissed at the contact.  'What the hell?' He tugged the bottom of his trouser legs up to find two red lines scorched into his skin just above his boots.

'What?...'

He glanced up, brow furrowed. What had he...

Ah. The dull gleam of wire caught his attention.

'That sneaky little bastard,' Sniper muttered as he pulled himself to his feet. He leant against the door frame to study the trap. It must have been wedged in well or nailed to the wall for it to have stayed in place when he tripped. Must be deceptively strong stuff too, for it to not have broken. Sniper bent down to touch it and caught himself a second before he did, remembering the shock he'd felt. This wasn't just a tripwire. This was an electric tripwire.

This little Spy was a dangerous one, wasn't he?

Spy was glad he was invisible when Sniper finally got up. He couldn’t suppress his delighted grin. Yes, it was a mean trick, but one he dearly loved and it was nice to see it in action. Often he only heard it work, giving him enough warning to escape.
The battery from the sapper was quite strong, especially for such a small thing. He hadn’t expected electrical burns, but he was pleased. Those would sting terribly, even if they were minor.
His smile faded a little when Sniper stopped before touching the wire. It was too bad he hadn’t simply grabbed it. He hadn’t seen the battery wedged behind a small gap in the old door frame, he must have simply realized the wire was charged. Still, bending over like that made him a perfect target and Spy reacted quickly, uncoiling his garrotte. He looped it over the back of Sniper’s neck and pulled down all in one quick movement. If Sniper were off balance enough it would send him straight back into the wire.
That might teach the damn Australian a lesson after all that attention he’d given him earlier in the round.

But how had the Spy managed to run a charge through the wire, Sniper wondered? That was the question. And was he even allowed to do that on the battlefield? No one else had ever-

Sniper's thoughts were cut off when something thin smacked into the back of his neck. It kept going, forcing him down, making him lose his balance. Sniper's momentum sent him crashing to the ground, the wire catching him just above the knees. He shouted as electricity bit into him. It wasn't as intense as the first time as it hadn't caught bare skin, but whatever was digging sharply into his neck was keeping him down. The shocks ran through him as he fought wildly to escape, making it hard for him to pull his thoughts together. He couldn't get himself off of the wire. Couldn't escape. Couldn't.

He wrenched his leg forward and the wire finally snapped loose from its mooring. It sagged beneath him, the electric current shorting out.

But he still couldn't get up.

The wire snapped and the electrical charge finally stopped. Spy looped one of the handles under Sniper’s neck and grabbed them both in one hand behind the man’s back, pulling them taut. He turned sharply and pressed his heel into the Sniper’s spine.

“Do not think your interest in me has gone unnoticed,” Spy told him. Both the multiple headshots (while he was cloaked! How had he been doing that?) and the strange way the man looked and acted around him grated on Spy’s nerves. This was, perhaps, overkill, but it could also be seen as teaching an opponent a valuable lesson. Never torment a Spy.

Sniper had one moment to feel relief before the pressure at the back of his neck swept around to encircle his throat. He saw a flash of blue limbs and brown eyes before the Spy disappeared behind him. As Sniper's hands reached up reflexively to his throat, a foot dug into his back, pinning him down.

The wire around his throat tightened. Sniper choked. He couldn't breath. He couldn't breath. He opened his mouth, desperate to drag air into his lungs. He couldn't.

He couldn't

He clawed at his neck, trying to get fingers under the wire. Couldn't do it.

Tried to drag himself to his feet.

Couldn't.

Sniper arched his back as far as he could with the weight on his back. It wasn't enough. He was still choking. Still dying.

He couldn't.

He couldn't...

Couldn't even tell what the Spy was saying.

There were words coming out of his mouth, Sniper was sure, but all that reached him was audio static and the roaring of blood in his ears.

Black spots flickered in front of Sniper's eyes.

He tried to breath.

Tried to.

His lungs were seizing up.

He couldn't.

Sniper didn’t put up much of a fight. Spy hated to admit it but he was slightly disappointed, his adrenaline was up and he had expected more from the man.

Once Sniper’s body had disappeared he cleaned up quickly, retrieving his wire and the hidden battery. Sniper wouldn’t fall for the same trick again so easily. He’d have to bring out the rest of his repertoire, if his enemy didn’t ease off him in battle. Hopefully Sniper had learned his lesson from this painful experience.

Heading back down the stairs, Spy considered leaving another trap, but left it. The first one was a warning and it would leave Sniper paranoid and unsettled. The next one would come when his guard had lowered a little.

Entering the battle again, Spy felt light and full of confidence. Despite the poor beginning, today had gone rather well.

Chapter Text

Sniper found himself running his hand across his throat. That had been...

Horrible. Just horrible.

He closed his eyes against the harsh glare of the respawn room and took several slow, deep breaths just to reassure himself that he could.

A garrotte. The new Spy had brought a garrotte out with him. There was cruel behaviour out on the battlefield and then there was this.

Electric tripwires and garrottes.

It occurred to Sniper for the first time that he might be facing more than he could manage with this new BLU Spy. Or bitten off more than he could chew, as it were.

He'd been able to face off to the Spy with a little help from a little more blood than normal. If he wanted to match the Spy, was he going to have to continue down that path?

Biting the little bastard would kill two birds with one stones. Sniper let himself imagine for a moment sinking his teeth deep into the Spy, feeling the skin part beneath them and the blood flowing freely. Let the Spy see how he liked it when it was Sniper going for his throat.

But this was war, not the time for indulging in fantasies.

Running his hands across his throat again, Sniper headed out to see what could he could do for his team.

Not a lot, it turned out. He got as far as the nearest sniper nest (making sure to carefully search it over for traps) when an imperious voice called out across the speakers: 'You win!'

Oh.

Well that was a nice surprise. Maybe all those headshots that morning had helped tip the balance in REDs favour. Or maybe Sniper's team didn't need his help to win.

Sniper's body filled with the usual buzz that came from winning. He knew the BLUs would be feeling the opposite. Humiliation rounds always drained the energy out of the losing team, as well as snatching away their weapons.

Sniper's hand drifted to the kukri at his belt.

No balisong, no gun, no disguise kit. No tripwires. No garrottes.

Sniper closes his eyes, breathing in deep again. He couldn't smell the Spy anywhere nearby but he let his feet take him where they wanted. Where he wanted.

Now, where was that little BLU Spy?

Spy heard the announcement of his team’s loss and groaned. He had no idea how it worked, how it sapped their energy and removed their weapons, but it was a cruel trick. He tucked himself behind cover and wished he could cloak himself.

He could hear shots and explosions ringing out. His teammates were some distance away so maybe he’d get out of this humiliation round untouched. He could only hope.

The crates here were dusty and he’d done his best not to disturb the dust, but there were a few scuffs to show he’d been here. Gritting his teeth, Spy waited.

Sniper shook his head, trying to free himself of the headache that had plagued him half the match. Instead, that just made it worse. He grimaced but didn't stop walking, kukri in hand. He wanted to find that Spy. Wanted to know what he'd said while he'd throttled him. Wanted answers.

He caught sight of a flash of blue and stalled, swinging around to find the BLU Scout pushed into a corner behind a door. Fear flickered over the boy's bloody face, before being replaced with a surly glare. They stood staring at each other for a moment before Sniper turned away and moved on. Not the BLU he was looking for.

A minute later he found himself in an old building on the outskirts of the battlefield. Rarely anyone bothered coming out here, though he knew the BLU Sniper had used a window upstairs occasionally when RED had pushed too far in this direction for him to reach any of his usual nests.

You didn't have to have tracking skills to follow the set of small, pointed footprints left in the dust on the floor. Sniper breathed in carefully.. The Spy was close. Close. A room or two away at most. Sniper's mouth began to water. He swallowed hard, pushing away the pressure building up in his gums, and went to find the BLU Spy.

There had been a shadow by the doorway. Spy held his breath. Maybe someone was merely passing by. All he could do was wait, helplessly. Humiliation rounds were one of the worst parts of this work so far. Death had merely become an inconvenience, but being helpless with the other team given the freedom to hunt them down like animals was… awful.

He clenched his hands into fists and ducked his head under his arms in an effort to make himself even smaller, tucked behind the crates. He knew he’d left some tracks but hopefully they’d be overlooked. Someone would really have to be looking for him to find him here, right?

He was on the hunt, Sniper realised. Tracking animals down gave him a certain thrill, but humans? That was something else. Humans knew exactly what was coming for them. Or at least they thought so. Sniper had never bitten anyone before, but he couldn't deny himself the hunt.

'What have we got here then?' Sniper said, his voice low and amused as he spotted a hunched up blue figure wedged between a wall and a row of crates. The enemy Spy looked small and vulnerable like that, with his arms pulled over his head. It left the back of his neck taut and exposed under that flimsy mask of his.

Sniper pulled his lips back into a snarl. However he might look right now, this Spy was dangerous. Vindictive and cruel too, if Sniper's earlier death was anything to go by.

Spy gritted his teeth. He had barely heard the Sniper until he spoke. Of course he’d take the time to hunt him down after his death earlier. Spy had nowhere to go now, all he could do was hope Sniper didn’t drag him out in time before the end of the humiliation round.

He said nothing. It wouldn’t do to provoke the man to action. Hopefully this would be over soon.

'Now, you've got two choices. You can either stay there and die like a dog, or you can stand up like a man, answer a few questions, and leave with dignity,' Sniper said calmly, but firmly. It was the same voice his father had always used on his when he was younger. Something about it said, 'I'm telling you you've got a choice but I'm in control here. You will make the right choice or I will regretfully be forced to make you regret it.'

To give him an extra incentive, Sniper pressed his knees against the crate until it shifted slightly, pressing in closer to the Spy. He could make things very uncomfortable for the Spy if he decided to stay put, and that was without using the kukri in his right hand.

Questions? What kind of questions could the Sniper have for him? What kind of information could possibly help a Sniper who was already a good enough shot to headshot a cloaked spy?

The crate pushed into Spy and hit his shoulder, wedging him in even tighter. He sucked in a quick breath of panic, his heart beating hard up in his throat, and immediately pushed back. He stood up and turned to face the Sniper, his expression cold as he shut away his fear. The Sniper had his large knife in hand. Spy gave him a smile.

Sniper had to admit (very reluctantly) that he was impressed. The Spy had stood up to meet him, brown eyes flinty and determined. The smile, well, kind of a smirk, really, ruined it a bit.

'Right then, ' Sniper said. 'What the hell was all of that, ay? The trap? The electricity? The garrotte? Fucking hell, mate, what's wrong with you? You're supposed to be a spy, not a mobster!'

Spy considered his words carefully. True, he had definitely been playing dirty, but he was a spy and that was par for the course. But things were different here, there seemed to be a set of rules that they were supposed to play by and he had been breaking them left and right.

“Consider it a response,” Spy said, pulling his gloves tighter by the wrists. “The amount of attention you gave me this morning was less than ideal. I gave you similar attentions.” He shrugged. “If you were to spend less of your time targeting me, then I would do the same for you.”

Look at this bastard. Suffering the effects of humiliation fatigue. Facing an enemy with a knife while he was completely defenceless. During the very first week he'd been on the job. There was no way he was allowed to be acting so smooth and unconcerned. Sniper's grip on his kukri tightened. It made him want to start slashing the Spy to ribbons just to see his poise and dignity ripped apart.

'Attention? I haven't been giving you any “attention”' Sniper snapped. 'And I'm not targeting you. Yer just a newbie who hasn't learnt how to stay out of sight yet. It's not my fault you keep getting in the way of my rifle!'

He was finding himself getting wound up now as he shifted slightly from foot to foot. It was partly the Spy's words and attitude, yes, but another part of it was just his presence. Sniper shouldn't have come seeking him out. Shouldn't have got so close.

The Sniper was clearly on edge, and Spy was loathe to goad him on. His knuckles were going white around the large knife he held, and his weight shifted back and forth like an animal looking for weakness. Though he was still partially covered by the crate, Spy felt exposed. Face to face, eye to eye, that was no way for a spy to fight.

Still, not responding would hardly calm the man down. Keeping up the arrogant confidence as a way to quash the fear that wanted to make his hands shake, Spy laughed.“Nine headshots over two hours? While I was cloaked?” Spy closed his hands into tight fists, the leather of his gloves squeaking. “That is far more than chance. You must have been watching for me. I am hardly walking about in your line of fire.”

He was not a careless man. This Sniper had been here a long time, yes, and he knew how to look for men who were invisible, but still, had any of his teammates suffered that many deaths by sniper fire this morning? Non, they had not. It irked him to be able to be seen from such a distance.

'Nine? Uh. I can't say I was counting,' Sniper said.

Nine. Oops, yes that was a little excessive. Sniper had an excuse for the headshots while cloaked thing though, one that he'd half convinced himself was true because he couldn't bring himself to accept the alternative.

'You're clumsy with that cloak of yours. You don't notice how you interact with the world around you. Not like I do. And now I know your height, I know where to aim for a headshot. Can't blame a guy for targeting a cloaked Spy though can yah? It's not as though you guys are ever up to anything good. If shooting a spy nine times is what's gonna help my team out, I'm gonna shoot a spy nine times. Nice clean shots and all, can't criticise those. Bloody straight and professional. No shameful business involved. No traps.'

He let out an annoyed huff as an excuse to take a deeper breath in than usual.

A slight tang of fear and stress mixed in with the other scents he recognised. Sniper frowned. That was odd. Look at the guy. He was annoyed, maybe irritated looking, yes, but not scared. How did he do that?

Spy’s eyes narrowed as he listened to Sniper babble on. He was lying about something, or at least half-lying. He would have to be more careful moving around cloaked, if any of that was true, but he was starting to think the Sniper had something that could detect him, maybe see his body heat? That kind of technology was possible here, surely.

He couldn’t help but smile again when Sniper called his business ‘shameful’. “Really, you can’t blame a Spy for being underhanded.”

His hands were still shaking slightly, even held as tightly as they were. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall as though relaxed. Perhaps he could get out of this without death. “Is that why you sought me out? Because of the trap?” He licked his lips, looking up at the taller man, “Or was it something else?”

There was something else, Spy was sure. He was usually dead on with this sort of thing, and Sniper’s expressions were laughably open and readable. He’d looked almost blissful when Spy had killed him the first few times, as though it was a far more intimate situation than it really was. The man was queer, he had to be.

Sniper huffed again and crossed his arms too in a subconscious mimicry of the Spy. Something about the BLU's reaction to this whole conversation left him on edge.

'Yeah, yeah it is,' he replied flatly, missing the implications entirely. Why else would he be here? Sniper unfolded his arms to rub a thumb against the top of his jaw. Damn venom. He wished it was something he could control and not an involuntary response to human presence. It wasn't so bad now around his teammates, even all of them together. But this smarmy BLU bastard made his jaw ache with it.

'Just watch yerself with stuff like that, that's all I'm saying. You start acting unprofessionally and yer gonna find that some of my teammates will return the favour. And you really don't want that.'

Now what seemed to have been threats had eased into more of a warning. Spy kept his eyes locked on Sniper’s, unwilling to flinch or show an ounce of the fear he felt.

He didn’t seem to pick up on the implication that Spy knew he was interested in men, but perhaps the nudge had been too subtle. Spy could make it more obvious, if need be. How long were humiliation rounds? Yesterday he’d died right before it when Sniper had killed him out of mercy.

“I’ll take your warning to heart,” Spy said, though his tone was not particularly sincere. “And you should take mine as well. If you target me, I’ll respond in kind. What you experienced today was nothing compared to what I can do.” Though Spy was not one to brag, it was hardly bragging if it was the truth.

Sniper's frown deepened as the Spy talked. There was a mocking edge to his response that put Sniper's teeth on edge and made his fingers twitch back towards the kukri he'd only recently sheathed.

What a pretentious little dick. Listen to him. He sounded like a Bond villain.

'Riiigght...' Sniper said. 'Well then, you have fun with yer plotting and scheming and evil laughter or whatever it is you do for hobby. There should only be a couple of minutes left before the humiliation round ends. Stay in here if you want to survive it.' Sniper shrugged. 'Or don't.'

He turned his back on the Spy and walked away, whistling a little tune to himself, one that he'd picked up from somewhere he couldn't remember.

Well, he had said he'd let the Spy live if he came out from behind the crates, hadn't he? Sniper was a professional. He kept his word.

A rush of relief overwhelmed Spy and he swallowed hard as soon as Sniper could no longer see him, leaning hard against the wall and letting his body settle through the panic that he’d had to ignore for so long. The Sniper had let him go. He’d had him helpless, at his mercy, and he’d just let him go.

Admittedly, Spy couldn’t see himself having done the same, if their places had been reversed.

This was twice that the man had been merciful and Spy hated to admit how much it annoyed him. He shouldn’t be in a position for someone to be merciful, and even if he was… what kind of enemy was this man? Spy unclenched his hands and carefully massaged just below the knuckles of his two smallest fingers; he’d been holding his hands so tightly that he’d hurt himself.

Chapter Text

'That new Spy, huh?' someone said as Sniper walked back to base, deep in thought. He looked up with a start to find Engineer sorting through a wreck of sentry pieces.

'Little frog thinks he can get away with anything here. Been playing dirty with me.'

'Yeah,' Sniper agreed.

It was hard to tell but Engineer's eyes seemed to focus on him then.

'You too? Well, that's just not on. Not on at all.' Beneath his gunslinger, the metal piece he was holding began to warp. 'Been going easy on him since he's just a greenhorn, but I think it's about time I taught him a lesson or two. What do yah say?'

Sniper just nodded but didn't say anything. Yes, that was probably a good idea. Can't have some BLU running amok. All the same time, something twisted up inside him. Sniper wasn't sure what the emotion was. He couldn't be feeling protective, that wasn't right. Territorial maybe? That seemed closer but Sniper hoped it wasn't. It didn't sound healthy.

The next day’s battle started out far better for Spy. He managed to avoid the Pyro and he wasn’t plagued by headshot after headshot. He was feeling far more optimistic about BLU winning this time. He wanted to break RED’s winning streak. Humiliation rounds were not something he wanted to go through again.

Spotting Engineer working hard at upgrading a sentry, Spy flipped out his knife and headed towards him. He didn’t need to bother with the cloak if the man was working hard; he felt as though he’d almost been overusing the technology he’d been given. Sometimes it was just nice to stick with the basics and murder men the way he used to.

Engineer hummed happily to himself as he worked. The advantage of his goggles was that even if someone had been looking at his face, they would have missed the way the Engineer's pupils slid to the right as he listened carefully.

One...

Two...

Three!

He pivoted around with more speed than most would expect from his stature, and cracked the Spy around the side of the head. The Spy slumped wordlessly to the floor, knife clattering down next to him. Engineer kicked it away, just in case, and knelt down to make sure the Spy wasn't dead or faking. It was a lot harder to knock a guy out then they made out in the movies, but Engineer had had plenty of practice.

The Spy was definitely alive; Engineer could see his chest rising and falling. Definitely unconscious though; Engineer pried one of the Spy's eyelids open to find a vacant, out of focus eye staring at the ceiling.

Perfect. Now to arrange things exactly how he wanted his guest to wake up to them. He started with moving his sentry, positioning it carefully. Next the dispenser. That took some work, considering his modifications to it. Once he was happy about it, he gathered up the baling twine he'd stuffed behind a crate at the start of the match, and used it to tie the Spy securely to the front of the dispenser. Engineer was no boy scout but he knew his knots.

Now he just had to wait for the little frog to wake up again. Engineer hoped it would happen before the fighting headed his way.  

Spy woke with a whimper. His head felt like it was splitting. His attempt to cradle his head was cut short by the ropes around his arms. Panic fluttered in his chest but he tried to keep calm, to keep his breaths slow and his face showing nothing.

It was hard to turn his head without pain, but he managed, slowly. He was tied to a dispenser. There wasn’t enough slack for him to get to the knots. He gave a quick jerk of his arms to see if he could loosen anything but nothing gave. Wriggling slowly, he started trying to work his hands up his body to get them out of the ropes. It was not going well.

Where was the Engineer? He couldn’t see him from this angle, nor could he hear him. The battle was still going on outside but it wasn’t close enough for him to hail any of his teammates… and even if it was, he wasn’t sure they would come to his rescue.

Engineer heard a small noise of pain and turned from scanning the battlefield back to the dispenser. A smile spread across his face as he meandered over to the dispenser, wrench in hand. He cracked it against the top of the building to get the Spy's attention. He leant over it so the Spy would be able to see him if he craned his head back 'Ah, Sleeping Beauty's awake, is she? Took you long enough. You nearly got blown up by one of your own teammates while you were asleep and that's the kind of thing I don't want you to miss.

'See, I've got my ol' level three sentry set up behind you. It can't see you because of the dispenser but it'll be able to shoot any other BLU who tries coming to your rescue. Not that they will. And that's because if any of them look over from their side of the battlefield, they're gonna see this lovely big red dispenser sitting here. But do you know what they ain't gonna see? Two things. One: my sentry. Two: you.' Engineer broke off with a chuckle, tapping his wrench against the top of his building. 'And what do you think they're gonna do when they see this nice ol' dispenser set up here?'

“Blow me up, I’m sure,” the Spy laughed. “Is this your idea of revenge? I was warned by one of your teammates to be careful,” well, not particularly of the Engineer, but the Sniper had warned him so it was only half a lie.

But still, he was getting used to getting blown up and shot and dying. Once he was killed he’d simply respawn and be able to target the Engineer again. What sort of plan was that for someone who was supposed to be some sort of genius?

Engineer chuckled low. 'Sounds like someone's looking out for you there. Pity the warning came too late. See, boy. We're disposable. We all are. Don't let respawn trick you into thinking we aren't. The Administrator don't care who lives or dies, so long as her war's fought. So she won't give a damn about having to replace you. Easy come, easy go. Don't let my big ol' friendly smile fool yah, I've done it before.'

There was nothing friendly, however, about the smile Engineer was giving the BLU Spy

Spy’s smirk disappeared as the threat slowly became clear to him. “So this is merely a warning,” he clarified.

It would stand to reason that if anyone could remove him from respawn, it would be an Engineer. And perhaps it would be wise to tread more delicately around this one from now on.

'Hmm, could be. Could be, I guess. I went to an awful lot of trouble to set this up, yah know. Lotta work just for a warning. But if we strike a deal, maybe I'll let you off this one time. You might have to think fast about this one though. Yah see, when one of your team mates come round that corner and blows up this lovely little dispenser, they're gonna blow you up. And you aint gonna be coming back. Not this time.'

The response to that sort of threat was instantaneous. Spy could not afford to take the chance that this man was bluffing. He did not know him well enough and his life was too valuable.
“What sort of deal?” Spy asked, tugging at the ropes a little, now far more concerned by the approaching sounds of battle.

'Hmm, let's see,' Engineer said with exaggerated slowness, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

'First of all: no garrottes, period. If I hear of you using that little bit of wire you like so much on any of my teammates, you're not gonna be getting a warning next time. Second: clean up your act. I'm not gonna put up with you tryin' to use any of these nasty little traps on me again. Third: learn some respect, boy. Me and the other's have been goin' easy on you 'cos your just a little newbie. That will change.

'Agree to all three and we'll have a deal. Break any of them though and... we'll have to have this little talk again sometime.'

Spy’s thoughts raced as he considered his options. He could refuse and possibly die, which was not an option at all. He could accept those terms and perhaps find himself at the mercy of the Sniper who would be feeling vengeful. Or he could lie and figure it out later, which was the best option he could see at the moment.

“I accept! Untie me.”

Ridiculous, this pudgy little man calling him ‘boy’ like he was not every bit as dangerous. Though he would make efforts to appear more above board, he would find the weaknesses of these men -and especially this man- and make them suffer for it.

'Glad to hear it. That bit about untying you though...nah. You've caused too much trouble already, boy. I'll fix thing so you come back, don't you worry. Don't you worry ‘bout a thing.'

Engineer left the dispenser with a final chuckle and retreated away. He went far enough that the Spy would think his footsteps had faded naturally into the distance, but not far enough away that he wouldn't see the dispenser explode if it happened any time soon. He really had gone to a lot of trouble to set all this up after all, even if the special 'modifications' he'd made to the dispenser only included some heavy cement at the bottom to stop the Spy from shifting it, and some explosive charged donated to him by Demoman. Demoman was always generous when it came to giving to a good cause. As long as it was explosives you needed and the cause was the death of an enemy.

That nasty little Spy though, he really was green for all his posturing and fancy kills. Engineer hadn't even got as far as trying to convince him that it was a glitch with friendly fire that would end him permanently before the frog had started to get all hot under the collar.

Engineer had spent time trying to come up with a convincing lie to spin about how respawn worked and failed, and in the end he hadn't even needed to use it. Just the suggestion that he could somehow tamper with respawn had been enough to scare the BLU into submission. He hoped.

Either Engineer was a better liar than he'd pegged himself as, or he'd really got the menacing act down right. The latter came easier to him than the former.

The sounds of battle were approaching in earnest now. Engineer decided he'd been away long enough to pretend he'd done whatever was needed to 'fix' respawn, and tramped back towards the Spy. He didn't want the BLU to think he was trying to sneak back over. No reason to make him suspicious.

Engineer stopped a short way behind his sentry to wait for the main event.

The Engineer wasn’t going to untie him! Spy fought the ropes furiously but of course the good ole boy knew his knots. There wasn’t any way he was going to get out before the battle reached them.

The Engineer walked away and Spy listened attentively, both to the battle that was nearing his location rather alarmingly, and to the man’s footsteps as they faded. He wasn’t gone long and despite himself Spy nearly drowned in relief.

“There’s no need to keep me here, we have struck a deal. I will play by your rules,” he practically snarled, his shoulders hurting from fighting his bonds.

The new BLU Spy reminded Engineer less of a frog and more of a cat right now. A cornered little cat, hissing and spitting and snarling and frightening absolutely no one. It made Engineer hesitate. It made him think. When had he become the kind of man who took enjoyment from threatening and scaring someone like this?

Truth be told, he'd always had a mean streak. Wouldn't have got arrested in college for GBH if he didn't. But Engineer had always had his own moral code. When had that all fallen away?

It also occurred to him that the more he riled and upset the Spy, the more the BLU would want revenge, deal or no deal.

All the same, he couldn't allow himself to appear soft in front of the Spy. Men like him would do their best to prey on any perceived weakness, real or not.

'Hmm, you know what, ask nicely and I might let you go just this time. Though don't go expecting any kind of mercy if you try anything funny again with me, boy.'

Spy watched the man’s face flicker through emotions. Whatever Engineer was, he couldn’t hide how he felt easily, which was good to know. What was that, regret? Why on earth would he feel regretful for cornering an enemy and teaching him a lesson? As angry -and admittedly frightened- as Spy was, that made no sense to him. Engineer had every right to trap him and even torture him. They were enemies.

“Please,” he said simply, not sure what Engineer expected.

Well. That was surprisingly easy. 'All right then,' Engineer said. Then he walked away without another word. It was actually just so he could get temporarily disable his sentry so the Spy wouldn't get shot to piece the moment he stood up, but no reason to tell the BLU that.

He pressed the forefinger of his right hand underneath what looked like the space for a screw on the underneath of his sentry. There was a fingerprint scanner there, coded to only accept his prints. Then there was a small click and a small stab of pain as a needle pricked his finger. A disguise kit could mimic his prints but it couldn't mimic his DNA.

To any outsider, the sentry appeared to be working perfectly normally. It was still scanning the area in front of it and beeping. If an enemy ran in front of it it would also swing around to meet them. It just wouldn't shoot them, not until Engineer reset it again.

He walked back over to the dispenser. He would have liked to take his time, to really make the BLU Spy fret, but he'd heard a rocket go off nearby. Not much time left.

He reached the dispenser and un-looped the end of the twine. He gave it a firm tug and every knot holding the Spy in place unravelled. When the RED Engineer said he really knew his knots, he meant it.

'There you go. Now, I don't want to see hide nor hair of you for the rest of the day, got it? And if you're thinking of trying anything, forget it. I've got a pistol here with your name on it.'

Spy stood and threw off the ropes, bolting. He was pleased and surprised that this had worked out. It had only taken a please and he was free. Even the sentry didn’t fire at him.

Still shaken and full of nervous energy, Spy didn’t stop running until he could barely hear the battle. He’d recover for a moment before getting back into it. And he’d tread more carefully around the Engineer.

Engineer watched him go, eyes narrowed behind his goggles. He wasn't about to let the little snake circle back around to stab him in the back. The Spy hared off away from him though, showing every signs of just wanting to get away. It was awfully tempting to shoot him in the back.

But Engineer resisted, leaving himself alone with a disabled sentry gun and a dispenser full of concrete and explosives.

'Ah.'

Chapter Text

The next couple of weeks should have been peaceful ones for Sniper. Engineer had dropped him some cryptic remark about having 'seen to our little frog problem for now' and since then he really hadn't seen much of the BLU Spy. Woken up in respawn after stealthy backstabs, yes, but he hadn't actually seen the guy.

Unfortunately, it wasn't always because he didn't know the Spy was there. Sometimes Sniper would feel an itch under his skin or the urge to swing around and face exactly where he knew the Spy would be hiding. He resisted doing so as much as possible. He'd already got too many uncanny kills on the Spy in the past, Sniper couldn't risk giving away how he was often able to sense where the Spy was. It was too dangerous.

So was Sniper's current blood supply issues. He'd been out hunting and had enough animal blood to last a good while, but he'd nearly ran out of human blood and it'd be a few more days before RED could put in that month's orders, and several more after that for supplies to arrive.

To take his mind off it, Sniper had taken to using his bow on the battlefield. He was rather rusty with it so it required more concentration than the rifle. Just what he needed to take his mind off his current problems.

Spy was baffled by his foe’s current tactic. Weren’t bows and arrows sort of a relic at this point? They had guns. Why bother with something so low-tech?

Still, he did seem to be getting a fair amount of kills with them and Spy himself found himself awakening in respawn after taking an arrow through the neck or eye more than once. It was maddening. Even with far superior weaponry, Sniper could still best him at times, even when he was so sure he’d been silent. The man had some kind of sixth sense when it came to spies. Perhaps too many days spent with a spy behind his back, waiting for an opening.

It didn’t stop Spy from trying, however. Every time he pinpointed Sniper’s position, he headed up to his vantage point. To his credit, he did stop with the traps and he hadn’t used his garrotte since his confrontation with the much more terrifying than he looked Engineer. He stuck to his knife and his gun, even though it rankled to be held back.

There. The Spy. He was coming. Sniper tensed and then forced himself to relax. The Spy wasn't even up the stairs yet, and besides, he should probably let the Spy get another free backstab on him to allay suspicion.

It was hard to though. It made Sniper's skin crawl to know that the Spy was approaching him from behind and that he couldn't- well, mustn't- react in any way.

He'd managed it twice already today but he wasn't sure if he could do it again.

Spy crept in, as silently as he could. Sniper was always so tense. It would be quite something to see him relaxed, or asleep. Did anyone see him like that? It was an interesting thought.

Knife at the ready, he stepped into Sniper’s space, blade slicing towards the Sniper’s throat.

Just stay still.

Stay still.

Stay still stay still stay still.

Let it happen.

Stay-

The knife caught his throat, slashing a shallow line across. But Sniper was already moving out of the Spy's range, hand going for his kukri.

Shit.

Now he was face to face with the BLU Spy again.

Too close.

Too close.

How had he avoided that? Spy’s face contorted with surprise and anger, trying to keep in Sniper’s personal space to avoid the kukri, but the man was too fast and he found himself in just the wrong space - close enough for that big knife of Sniper’s, not close enough for his butterfly knife.

Sniper’s neck was barely bleeding, he’d hardly cut him at all. He’d thought it was a sure thing! How could he have gotten away so fast, react so quickly? It was uncanny and Spy was completely thrown off.

Toss aside the kukri. Knock away the butterfly knife. Break through the Spy's defences. Rip away his flimsy mask. Sink fangs deep into his neck. Feel blood well up. Gush over his tongue. Run down his throat...

It was tempting. So damn tempting. No, 'tempting' wasn't a strong enough word. He wasn't sure there was one in the English language.

Sniper shook his head, dislodging his cloying thoughts. Best to kill the Spy as soon as possible.

He swept forward, kukri raised to slash across the Spy's torso or any limbs that got in the way.

Spy had no choice but to leap backwards. It was too late to slip through Sniper’s defences; he was prepared, and Spy was feeling anxious about being so close to a man that could surprise him that much. It wouldn’t do to step in close and have that frightening speed turned against him in close quarters. He needed to be able to escape if things went bad.

Flipping the knife in his hand, Spy took it by the blade and with a graceful flick of his hand, threw it sideways so it spun before burying itself in Sniper’s thigh. With the man’s arms up, he didn’t dare aim higher in case the knife was flicked away and he was left defenceless.

Fuck, the Spy dodged!

Fuck- there was something wrong with his leg.

Sniper felt the impact, but it wasn't until he went to take a step forward with his left leg that anything actually registered as wrong.

Pain shot up through his thigh, his leg suddenly feeling too weak to take his weight. Sniper stumbled forward, a second slash with his kukri going wide as he tried to keep his balance.

'Fuck!'

Spy turned and bolted down the stairs, leaving Sniper to pry the knife out of his leg. Though he’d momentarily had the advantage, he didn’t trust that Sniper’s reaction wouldn’t be to go for him despite his injury. He inwardly cursed himself for not staying and finishing his enemy off, but he’d been far less confident since the incident with Engineer, and being surprised today seemed to have made that worse.

Great, the Spy had stabbed him and then legged it. Bloody typical. Sniper slowly eased himself over to the nearest wall, doing his best not to agitate the wound any further. Once he reached the wall he lent against it, free hand drifting towards the knife sticking out of his leg.

'Fucking dammit,' Sniper hissed under his breath. A deep stab wound to the thigh. Wonderful. He had two choices. Either he could leave it in and not be able to move, and probably die here, or he could pull it out. And probably die here much more quickly. Wounds like this to the thigh could cause a man to bleed to death in minutes if they hit the right artery.

'Fuck...' Sniper muttered to himself. Medic was bound to be miles away and the nearest health pack was downstairs. No way he'd make it all the way down here.

There was an additional problem. The Spy was going to want to come back for his knife, and probably sooner rather than later.

Sniper slowly lowered himself down the side of the wall with a small, pained, grunt. His hand still hovered over the wound, not daring to touch it. He should pull it out, end this.

He didn't make any move to.

Spy hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. His knife was still up there, and it was likely that he’d hit the large artery in his enemy’s thigh. It wouldn’t take him too long to die. He could just wait here, near the health pack, to see if Sniper tried to make it down the stairs. After a few minutes, he’d go back up.

Though he hated that this was a cowardly (if efficient) approach, Spy was relieved. Sometimes he would swear that Sniper knew where he was, even with his cloak on. It was best to stay out of the man’s reach. Perhaps he’d start using his gun more often with him, even though it gave away his position to the rest of the enemy team.

Sniper glowered from the knife in his leg to the staircase and then back again. He didn't think he could get back down again, but maybe if Sniper tried to keep his leg still, he could...

He got as far as shuffling himself to the top stair before he had to stop. Keeping his left leg off of the floor required using muscles in his thighs and dear god did that hurt. Sniper rested against the wall again to get his breath back. At some point he'd started panting and gasping from the pain.

It was funny. Well, funny as in really not funny, how they could be killed over and over and over but a simple wound like this still hurt so goddamn much.

Sniper was at the top of the stairs now. Spy could hear him hissing with pain, breathing hard. Cloaking, Spy waited at the bottom of the stairs. Even with Sniper’s sixth sense, being in so much pain ought to be enough of a distraction.

Just fourteen steps. He could do this. With a hiss of pain, Sniper lowered himself down to the second one, mostly relying on his arms to support himself. Good thing no one was around to watch him shuffle on his arse down these stairs.

By the fifth step, Sniper had to stop again. There were black spots dancing in his vision. He blinked hard to clear them and muttered through gritted teeth, 'Come on, come on.'

He managed another three this time before having to stop. His legs were shaking. Sniper's hand drifted back toward the blade. His trouser leg was slick with blood and sticking to his leg. So much blood. But the only kind that had never appealed to him. No one wanted to find themselves bleeding out, vampires included.

Just six more to go. Six more to go.

Sniper worked his way down the steps by sitting on each one, talking to himself as he went. Spy’s fingers fell on the little garrotte that he’d promised not to use. He’d kept it on himself but hadn’t dared to use it since. Still, it seemed that Sniper wasn’t likely to tell anyone about it, especially after this ordeal. And it was so tempting to feel in control after the last few battles, and after Sniper’s unsettlingly fast reaction today.

Spy slowly pulled out the garrotte, waiting for Sniper to reach the bottom step so he could easily reach the man’s neck and step in behind him. He didn’t even have his kukri with him now, he was defenseless. Spy’s confidence rushed back and he smirked, waiting patiently for the perfect moment to strike.

Three to go.

Two.

One.

Finally.

Sniper let out a shaky sigh of relief as the rested on the last step.

He'd made it. He'd just let himself get his breath back and then head for the nearby health pack. Sniper wasn't entirely sure how to do it. Maybe he should try standing up? Or keep trying to scoot along? Or maybe he could crawl. Or possibly...

Sniper frowned. Beneath the coppery scent of his own blood, beneath the sweat and dust and cordite, there was something else...

Spy was next to him in an instant, the wire wrapping tightly around Sniper’s neck and cutting into his skin. When Sniper started to struggle, he gave the knife in his leg a vicious kick before redoubling his efforts with the garrotte.

Sniper hadn't even had chance to register it was the Spy's scent, let alone see him, before the garrotte was around his neck.

The second it cut off his air supply, sheer panic overtook Sniper. Adrenaline and fear shot through him, leaving him arching and bucking and scrabbling to get free.

It hurt his leg, horribly.

The Spy hurt it even more when he kicked the knife handle. If it hadn't been for the wire cutting into his throat, Sniper would have screamed. For a moment, the world turned to static but he kept on fighting, spine arching back so much his head hit a step above him.

He couldn't breathe. Oh god, he couldn't breathe.

“Stay down you miserable bushman!” Spy hissed. Sniper’s weight and the force of his struggling were wearing, but his own adrenaline was pumping, his heart beating hard in his chest, and Spy hung on to the garrotte handles as hard as he could. Sniper dragged him down a few times and he had to brace himself, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before the man was unconscious. He spasmed when Spy kicked the knife and as soon as the fight died down a little, Spy grabbed the wire handles in one hand and pulled his butterfly knife out of the man’s thigh with the other.

Sniper felt so heavy. The world, a thousand miles away. Sniper couldn't hear anything but the blood roaring in his ears. Couldn't feel anything but pain. Parts of him were numb, too far away, lost.

At least, that's how it felt until the Spy ripped the knife from the wound.

Sniper's half-shut eyes snapped back open wide, his lips moving in a silent gasp that couldn't reach his lungs. His back arched, muscles taut and shaking.

Then he slumped back onto the stairs, not entirely unconscious yet, but close.

Spy unwound the wire from Sniper’s neck. He wasn’t quite dead, but with the blood pouring out of his thigh and the raspy way he was breathing, he would be soon.

Spy inspected his knife and found it slightly bent from having been kicked. With a frown, he leant down and cleaned it on Sniper’s shirt, unwilling to get his own things bloodied when he didn’t have to. With a grin, he gave the man’s wounded leg a little kick, just to see if he was still conscious.

If he'd been capable of that much thought, Sniper would have expected to wake up next in respawn. Instead he come back around as fresh pain flared up through his leg.

He groaned, a hoarse, crackling little sound in the back of his throat.

Sniper turned his head, looking for the source of the pain, too addled to piece together what was happening. His head felt so heavy, as though it weighed more than anything he'd ever tried to lift before.

He felt cold. Tired. Distant. Confused.

It wouldn't be long now.

His vision began to tunnel. The BLU Spy moved in close, filling his vision. Spy bent down, grabbing Sniper by the jaw to lock eyes with him as he slit his throat. His knife was bent slightly, but still as sharp as ever.

The RED bled out quickly, Spy stepping back to avoid the rapidly growing pool of blood. Wouldn’t be long until respawn picked him up. Spy was pleased that this had turned out as well as it had. It hadn’t started very easily for him.

Sniper respawned, swaying slightly on the spot. Every time he blinked, he could see the BLU Spy's dark eyes staring straight at his as he slit his throat.

Sniper's fingers traced across his throat lightly. Even though no damage remained, he couldn't stand to put any pressure on his neck. Not after that garrotte.

The BLU Spy was a bastard, an utter bastard. To throw that knife into his leg AND lie in wait for him at the bottom of the stairs AND strangle him AND kick his wounded leg AND slit his throat... that was just cruel.

'Bloody unprofessional,' Sniper said to himself, trying to shake it off as just another example of poor quality mercenary work, the likes of which he saw from the BLUs every day.

But he knew this death was going to haunt him. There had been something just so unnecessary about the whole thing. It hadn't even been in revenge.

Cruelty for cruelty's sake

A wave of hate crashed into Sniper, sweeping through him.

If that's how the Spy wanted things to go, so be it.

Let him reap what he'd sown.

Chapter Text

Spy’s victory didn’t last long. The next week, Sniper was after him like a hound after a fox. No matter how cleverly he hid or how silent he was, Sniper knew where he was. He attacked first, he didn’t hesitate.

Spy was miserable.

He barely managed any kills. It was rare that he sent Sniper through respawn. He took to using his gun so he could stay further away from the man, but even then it seemed as though the Sniper was warned of his presence. He couldn’t figure it out and it was driving him insane. Even when he stopped trying to kill Sniper, the RED sent him through respawn again and again to the point of near-screaming frustration.

'Oh, now will you look at that, yet another head shot...' Sniper crooned to himself as he spattered the BLU Spy's brains out for the eighth time that morning.

He was loving this. Giving into the hunting instincts that allowed him to track the Spy had somehow honed them even further. Sniper made sure to keep the kills professional (he was better than that little bastard, after all, no need to stoop to his level), but he also made sure to get as many kills on the new Spy as possible. Engineer had noticed some of his recent success and was very pleased with him. It felt good to be appreciated.

It felt good to get revenge too.

As much as he tried to shake it, that awful death at the Spy's hands haunted him. Sniper kept dwelling on it, going over and over how the BLU must have lurked nearby the whole time, most likely laughing silently at Sniper's pained struggles. Going over how the Spy had chosen to make him suffer when Sniper would have mercy killed the Spy as cleanly as possible if their roles had been reversed. Going over the feeling of having a garrotte slice into your neck while you asphyxiate.

That last one he just couldn't shake off at all.

Every time Spy got out of respawn, he was sent straight back in again. Spy finally took a breather to collect himself. He couldn’t think of a single thing he’d done to give himself away. He’d checked his clothes and weapons for a tracking device. He was too paranoid to have missed anything!

Frustrated beyond belief, he stopped for a quick drink of water. For all that he’d thought he could avoid Sniper, perhaps head-on was the best way to deal with him. It must have been the kill the other day that was driving Sniper to such lengths. To be fair, it hadn’t been that slow out of cruelty so much as fear, but there was no reason to admit such weakness to an enemy.

Feeling the little garrotte wire in his pocket, Spy came out of respawn at the sound of the BLU Heavy screaming his invincibility. This might be enough of a distraction to get him up to the Sniper’s hideaway.

Sniper ducked out of the way as a spray of bullets peppered the wall in front of him and whizzed through the empty window he'd been sniping out of.

'Shit!' he gasped as a second round smashed holes through the wall, lower down.

Sniper threw himself down the stairs as splinters flew above him. There was nothing he could do against an ubered enemy apart from run away like a coward. It wasn't as though a headshot would help.

Sniper was so distracted that he didn't have time to recognise a now-familiar scent before he slammed straight into a cloaked spy.

Spy cursed. His distraction had ended up being a bit too distracting. Sniper had thrown himself away from the bullets and crashed straight into Spy as he was headed up the stairs. They both fell the last few feet and Sniper landed on top of him. He reached for his garrotte but it wasn’t within his reach, it had fallen higher up on the stairs.

His knife was his next option, but with Sniper bodily on top of him, he couldn’t get to it without lifting the man off himself. Which, with Sniper’s weight and Spy’s strength, wasn’t going to be easy.

Hand to hand then. At least Sniper didn’t seem to have his terribly oversized knife. Spy elbowed the Sniper in the face in an attempt to roll him off.

Sniper's forehead cracked against the floor as they landed. It was the only part of him not at least partially cushioned from the floor by the BLU Spy's body. How inconsiderate of the Spy.

Dazed and in pain and not at all happy to find himself in this situation (or with an elbow in his face), Sniper tried to pull himself up. And then realised that as bad as being this close to the Spy was, being just far enough away for the Spy to be able to snatch his balisong out of his pocket and stab Sniper with it, would be even worse.

'Urgh—stop it—you little—fucker!' Sniper spat as he fought to pin down the Spy's arms with little success. The little bastard was just so goddamn wriggly.

Sniper leaned his weight onto Spy’s wrists to hold him down and was rapidly overpowering the smaller man. Spy rolled as much to the side as he could, hitting Sniper with his elbow and hip, fighting against not only the Sniper but the panic that was starting to overtake him.

Sniper’s skinny wrist ended up in his face. Without a single thought, Spy bit him, as hard as he could.

'Bloody snake!' Sniper growled as the Spy twisted beneath him. 'I'm gonna gut you, ba-ahhh—' Sniper's voice cut out mid-word as the Spy's teeth clamped down on his hand. He heard as much as felt the grinding of bones and ligaments under the pressure of the Spy's jaw.

Christ! That hurt.  

Sniper should have flinched away or punched the Spy or screamed or shouted or perhaps bitten him back. Instead he felt his whole body go limp of its own accord. It was a gradual thing; each muscle slowly disengaging until he collapsed, still half on top of the Spy, his head resting against the floorboards, next to the Spy's neck.

He didn't bite though, had never felt less like biting. Even with the Spy's scent all around him, his jaw didn't ache with even a millimetre of venom and he couldn't have bared his fangs if he'd wanted to.

Sniper's head felt like it was full of cotton wool. The bite still hurt, still really hurt, but Sniper couldn't seem to bring himself to care.

'Sure, you've won. That's it. I've surrendered. You win. You win. Congratulations.' The words swirled sluggishly around his head. There was none of the panic or fear or bitter resentment that should come with surrendering to a BLU. Just a calm acceptance.

Which was weird, since he was currently half lying on top of an angry BLU Spy who was biting him but Sniper couldn't find it in himself to mind.

Sniper went wordless and boneless on top of him, like a dead weight, and Spy thought at first that perhaps one of his teammates had killed him. He pushed and wriggled his way free from beneath the Sniper, shoving the body aside none-too-gently. He quickly realized that there was no blood, no sign of any weapon or injury (besides the teeth marks in his wrist) and though he was lying quite still, he was very much alive.

Spy stood, carefully assessing the situation. Sniper had fallen down the stairs, after all. Had he hit his head on the way down?

He had an oddly calm expression while laying on the dirty floorboards and Spy resisted the urge to kick him to see if he’d respond.

It was like being at the level of tipsiness when you could feel the drink getting to you but you're convinced you could force yourself to snap out of it if you wanted to.

Vaguely, Sniper decided it would be best to do just that.

Nope.

No such luck.

Maybe if he tried just a little bit harder and really put his mind to it... But he couldn't find the force of will to do that.

Oh well.

He was fine. Just lying here on the floorboards. No problem. BLU Spy wins and that's just fine. No problem at all.

Spy managed to fight his instinctual need to be cruel and test boundaries, and instead pulled out his revolver. He aimed at Sniper’s head, took a few steps back to avoid the spatter, and squeezed the trigger.

This Sniper was clearly unhinged in some way. Or something was wrong with him. Perhaps his Medic had done something to change his behaviour?

The only way to get any new information about him was to either ask his teammates, or to go snooping about on his own. He knew exactly which one he’d rather do.

Sniper respawned.

Well. Fuck.

He jogged off towards the nearest Sniper nest (far far away from where he could sense the BLU Spy was) to give himself some time alone to think. He unscrewed the lid off his thermos flask and tipped it back, only to find it was empty.

'Shit,' Sniper said, placing the flask back down and burying his face in his hands.

He was completely back to normal now. Sniper couldn't have evoked the mindset he'd been in before his last death even if he'd wanted to. Like being drunk or high, it wasn't something his brain was capable of without the right stimulation.

But he could understand why he'd gone like that. Well, sort of.

If it had been another vampire, Sniper would have understood exactly. That's how fights were resolved between vampires. Whoever managed to bite the other won because their opponent would lose the will to keep fighting. They'd go docile. Surrender.

It didn't mean they wouldn't challenge their opponent again if they got chance, but it was how hierarchies were made and preserved within clans.

You couldn't have a pack of dangerous creatures that would happily all rip each other to shreds if you wanted the species to continue, so over the millennia vampires had developed a way of ending fights quickly and with minimal damage.

Sniper had never been in a fight with another vampire before; the clan he'd been created by had been a stable and generally calm one. The old matriarch and her seconds in command had bitten him to cement him as being theirs, but that had just been a part of his initiation. It'd been weird but he hadn't really minded.

But this was different. The BLU Spy had bitten him. A human. It was as embarrassing as anything else.

A human.  

Sniper tried to recall hearing of any vamp reacting the same way to a human's bite, but if any had, they must have kept quiet about it. Or maybe no one else in his old clan had ever managed to do something as monumentally weak and stupid as to allow themselves to be bitten by a human being.

Why had it worked though? Sniper rubbed at his tired eyes behind his aviators as he tried to work it out.

When he'd been bitten during his initiation, he hadn't had any venom injected in him or blood taken. They'd barely even split the skin in fact.

So.

Sniper's reaction must have been entirely down to himself. Being bitten had instinctively caused his brain to release the chemicals that had left him calm and docile, regardless of what it was that had bitten him. It made sense. Kind of.

But it wouldn't have done to the Spy. Sniper let out a small groan as he imagined just how damn weird that whole situation must have looked to the Spy. There was no human explanation or reason for Sniper's reaction. What on earth must the Spy have thought happened back there?

Sniper had no idea. One thing he knew for sure though, their last encounter had done far more to make him want to keep away from the Spy than any traps or garrotes or nasty deaths could possibly have.

Chapter Text

The next week was full of opportunities to watch Sniper and see if someone was drugging him, or if this behaviour was, well, normal for him. Spy spent much of their time after battle and even some during battle trailing  Sniper while cloaked. He treated it like a training exercise, to be sure that Sniper wasn’t aware of him, even though he was doing it for completely personal reasons.

Though, in his defence, if the RED Sniper was …if something was wrong with him, they should know. The whole team. Everyone. This didn’t have to be personal. It was just smart.

So far his reconnaissance had turned up very little. The man liked his coffee, out of the same disgusting looking thermos every day. He muttered to himself while shooting, usually to the enemies who could not hear him. He was incredibly quick with his rifle and sometimes it seemed like part of his body. And he held himself tensely all the time, like a dog on high alert.

None of this was particularly helpful. He never acted as odd and limp as he had during that scrap they’d had. Spy could only assume that he must have bumped his head on the way down.

Well this was hell. Absolute hell. The BLU Spy had been just...following him. For days.

It was beyond stressful, having to pretend he didn't know the Spy was there and just go about his daily life. Especially just after he'd vowed to himself to try and keep away from the BLU.

He kept waiting for the Spy to attack so he could 'hear'  him coming, but it rarely ever happened. Instead the Spy would just watch. Silently. He hardly ever gave away the clues needed for Sniper to be able to act on his presence without it seeming suspicious. And even when he did, the Spy would usually stay completely still afterwards, forcing Sniper to give up on 'looking' for him and going back to normal.

But what was normal? The Spy watched him on the battlefield and even in the base (though thankfully no attempts had been made to get into his van, as far as Sniper was aware), making him hyper aware of his own behaviour. At one point he found himself considered trying to be as off-putting as possible. Farting loudly, picking his nose, returning to the ol' jarate he hadn't bothered with for a long time now. The idea made him chuckle to himself (unfortunately, when the Spy was present. Laughing to yourself probably didn't count as “normal.”) but as much as it would probably surprise the enemy Spy, he did have standards.

A much more pressing problem showed itself part way through the week when Sniper casually asked Medic if he needed his monthly order list sending off in the mail. Sniper did so every month, always claiming he was off to send a letter to his parents back in Australia, so he might as well take Medic's post as well. Then he'd use the opportunity to add enough blood bags to tide him over until the following month. Medic ordered a lot of odd things; no one at Mann.co would bat an eye at the amount of blood he apparently needed.

'Oh no need,' Medic had said, waving him away. 'Scout was sending a letter home to his mother so I got him to deliver it for me.'

'What?'

'I know, I know, he's not the most reliable of teammates, but it's only one order form...'

'When did he go?'

'This morning, before the battle. Does it matter?'

'No no, of course not. See you around then, Medic.'

But it did matter. It mattered terribly.

He only had a last few dregs of human blood left. He could dilute it more with animal blood, make it last. But not forever. Or at least, not for another month.

Maybe if Sniper could go out hunting it would help. Fresh animal blood wasn't the same as human blood, but it was better than the old stuff in his fridge.

The only problem was though, that Spy was still following him...

On Friday after the battle, Sniper made a break for the forest, bow and arrow in hand.

Spy watched Sniper deteriorate as the week went on. He became jittery, jumpy. He got up to check for enemies more often. Sometimes his hands would shake. Every night after battle he went out hunting, and there Spy didn’t follow him at first, not wanting to trek through the woods in the twilight.

Finally, he decided if he wanted a real picture of the man he ought to have no privacy, even if he was out in the middle of nowhere with a bow and arrows hunting for god knows what. Spy carefully picked his way through the forest after Sniper, trying to stay as close to him as he could without giving himself away.

He was here. He was here. Sniper couldn't escape him, even out here in the middle of nowhere. The forest stretched out for miles around them. The scent of deer reached him. But so did the scent of the Spy.

It was impossible for Sniper to let his brain switch into hunting mode with the BLU Spy so near. Especially when he had exactly what Sniper wanted. No, what he needed. He wasn't feeling it yet, but it wouldn't be long before he started to suffer from a lack of human blood. Even when he'd stretched it out with deer and rabbit blood, there was still only a mouthful of the diluted mixture left.

He had to lose the Spy. There was no point trying to hunt when the Spy might spot him sinking his teeth into a dying stag's throat. Now, that really wasn't what you'd class as normal behaviour.

Or maybe he didn't have to try and lose him, maybe...

Sniper led the Spy deeper into the woods, away from the river he'd been following. He carefully wound between trees with fallen branches and twigs under them, praying that the Spy would mess up and step on one.

Staying silent in the forest was nearly impossible, but Spy managed for quite some time, staying just far enough away from Sniper that any quiet noises might be chalked up to a small animal. Sniper seemed anxious even here, where Spy had assumed he’d be more relaxed, more in his own element. Did this poor man never relax?

There was a quiet crack as he stepped on a dry twig and Spy cringed, hesitating and looking up at Sniper to see if he’d noticed.

Sniper swung around immediately, his arrow already nocked in his bow.

'Come out!' he called, trying to keep his voice low enough that any nearby deer wouldn't be frightened away, but loud enough that the Spy could hear.

Sniper angled himself a little to the right of the Spy, wanting to scare him off without showing that he could pinpoint him exactly even when cloaked.

'I know you're there! Just turn around and fuck off and we won't have any problem here. Keep on following me, you creepy little fucker, and this is going straight through your head.'

Spy stayed frozen. How had Sniper known it was him? Wouldn’t he assume it was some kind of animal? What had given him away?
He crouched down infinitely slowly, making a smaller target. He could wait it out. Maybe Sniper was just guessing.

'Come on out! I know it's you! That stink of cigarette smoke follows you everywhere you go!' It was a bit of an exaggeration. Yes, sniper could smell the faint scent of cigarettes that clung to to the Spy like it did with any smoker, but it wasn't something a human would have been able to pick up on at this distance.

Sniper scowled as the Spy crouched down. Dumb little bastard. Like that would help at all. It occurred to him then to wonder how he knew the Spy was crouched down. He was still cloaked after all. That sense Sniper had gained for his whereabouts had improved exponentially if he could pinpoint something like that now. Or maybe it was because he was out hunting. Or maybe it was because he was hungry.

Sniper pretended to scan the area in front of him. 'This is a warning shot,' he said, 'Turn around and leave me the fuck alone or I won't stop until I've skewered you to a tree.'

By a strange coincidence, when Sniper fired the arrow, it just happened to strike the tree directly to the Spy's left.

Spy cringed. The smoke didn’t smell that strongly, did it? Had he lost his sense of smell from smoking? He inwardly cursed himself, flinching when the arrow hit the tree.

He debated for a moment, on running or staying still. If he ran, Sniper would definitely hear him and most likely shoot at him. And knowing his remarkable aim, he’d probably end up with an arrow through his back. Still, even staying still wasn’t a guarantee.

He decided to stay frozen, crouched down by the tree, and also perhaps to quit smoking so much.

Oh come on. This wasn't fair. Sniper had come out here to hunt, not be hunted. He was painfully tempted to just shoot the Spy square in the face, consequences be damned.

Instead he turned without another word and ran away.

He’d chosen the route he'd led the Spy through because it had a rocky incline off to the right and denser trees once you go up there. If Spy wanted to come after him, he'd have to scramble up rocks. Sniper was as sure-footed as a mountain goat and knew the easiest path up. The Spy did not. Nor did he know which way Sniper would go once he got to the top.

Sniper didn't like running away from an encounter he knew he could win, but it looked like it was going to be the only way he could hunt in peace.

Spy waited a few minutes after Sniper had left to be sure he was quiet. By the time he got up to follow, Sniper was most of the way up a steep rocky cliff.

There was no way he could make it up without breaking his neck. He wasn’t a bushman like Sniper. He watched the Australian for a few minutes as he climbed, but once he was out of sight Spy turned to leave. It wasn’t going to happen.

He’d have to follow him somewhere he could go, where he would have the advantage. Maybe it was time to snoop around Sniper’s camper.

Sniper grumbled to himself quietly all the way back to the base, feeling full but not satisfied. The Spy had left him on edge, making it hard for him to hunt. When he finally had managed to catch a deer, he'd had to rush things, gulping down blood from the still-kicking animal as though he was on a ten second time limit.

Sniper hadn't dared bring any back with him either, just in case Spy caught him somehow. Sniper only had enough of a blood supply to last him a couple of days- three at most. If the Spy insisted on stalking him during his next few hunting trips, he was going to starve to death soon. And if the Spy didn't follow him, he still was going to... No, best not to think about that.

Sniper knew there was something wrong as soon as he opened the door to his van. He tensed, the Spy's scent wafting over him. For a panicked moment Sniper thought he was still in the van. But no, the scent wasn't strong enough and he couldn't feel the Spy's presence either. But he'd been here recently. In Sniper's van. In his home.

Sniper went straight for the mini-fridge, throwing the door open with shaking hands. Had the Spy looked in here? Had he seen?

There were two beer bottles obscuring the blood bag from view. Well, obscuring most of it. The top of the plastic stuck up over the top of them. All it would have taken was for a curious Spy to pull out one of the bottles and he would have seen it. Maybe he had. He could have put the bottle back where he'd found it after all.

The Spy might know.

The BLU Spy might know.

Sniper slumped down in front of the mini-fridge, face in hands.

What was he going to do if the Spy had found out?

And how was he going to find out for himself if the Spy actually knew or not? He'd have to pay even closer attention to him from now on.

Chapter Text

The last of the human blood ran out three days later. By the fourth Sniper was already feeling unsettled and distressed. That was more down to the Spy situation than the blood one though. The BLU had continued to stalk him, though mostly just on the battlefield. Sniper had shot him at long range as often as he dared to stop him getting close again.

He couldn't stand having the Spy in the same room as him. Especially when he had no idea at all if the Spy might have caught on to what he was.

Spy’s forays into Sniper’s territory were often cut short by a bullet, but that didn’t stop the persistent Frenchman. He cursed the Sniper again and again, often getting distracted from the team’s main initiatives by his own personal interest. He’d given up on the man’s camper for now. The way Sniper was acting, he was far too paranoid to allow someone else anywhere near his own home.

Sniper woke up on Wednesday,  his second day without blood, feeling colder than normal. He rubbed icy hands together and got up to make himself a cup of regretfully completely normal coffee. That evening he went hunting again, careful to make sure the Spy didn’t follow him. He came back with what should have been enough blood to survive the week. But Sniper knew it wouldn't.

By Thursday, he could feel it. Until recently he'd been able to force himself to go nearly a week without human blood. It had never been pleasant but it had been possible. The BLU Spy had ruined that, forcing him to go through his supplies much faster, and setting his progress months back at the same time.

Sniper killed the enemy Spy a record amount of times that day. He couldn't have stopped focusing on the Spy if he tried. The BLU just seemed to be everywhere Sniper looked, even if he was technically invisible most of the time.

On Friday he woke up feeling nauseous. A headache pounded at his skull and his stomach twisted up into knots as he tried to eat his breakfast. Five minutes later and he threw it back up.

He downed half the deer blood and felt a little better. Even managed to keep his lunch down. Didn't manage to get as many kills on the Spy though. Sniper found himself struggling to concentrate and his shots went wide far often than normal. The Spy had shown no signs of knowing what Sniper was though, so he decided that was one less thing he needed to worry about.

The weekend was a restless, unsettled time. He spent as much of it away from his team as possible, not trusting himself. He went hunting, but with little success. It wouldn’t have been enough anyway.

By Monday morning, Sniper couldn't keep solid food down. Without human blood in his system, things were starting to break down. His body couldn't digest food anymore. Sniper poured the last of the deer blood down his throat. He knew he shouldn't but he couldn't help it.

That match he hardly hit anything. But every shot he did succeed with was on the Spy. He had to keep him away. Had to.

After the match Sniper snuck into Medic's infirmary. The giant fridge containing body parts, human organs, blood and certain medicines that needed to be kept cool was unfortunately locked. As Sniper had feared it would be. Medic kept the key on his person at all time and not even Spy could get it off him. Sniper knew he'd tried.

He left empty-handed, his stomach growling. Sniper couldn't risk running into Medic. The doctor had already told him how pale he was looking under his tan.

On Thursday, Sniper could barely drag himself out of bed. Everything ached: his joints, his head, his belly, his eyes, his teeth. It felt as though someone had stapled his stomach to his spine.

Hands shaking slightly, he hurried to make himself his morning cup of coffee. Anything to try and warm himself up. Sniper barely managed two gulps of the hot coffee before it came back up again. He clutched the edge of the worktop afterwards, head bowed over his van's sink, waiting for the willpower to force himself back upright. It was a long time coming.

This was it, the real beginning of the end. He couldn’t even keep liquids down. The average human could go up to three weeks without food and three days without water.

Sniper wasn’t any kind of human though. Vampires had much higher metabolisms and he’d already gone too long without the one thing that kept him alive.

Sniper stayed as far back from the fighting as he could that day, avoiding friend and foe alike. They were just too alive... too vibrant... their hearts beating too strongly.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could resist.

Sniper managed to kill the Spy a couple of times but that was it. He forced himself to move anytime he sensed the Spy heading his way. They couldn't be in the same room as each other right now.

By the end of the match, Sniper had made his decision. He'd spent the last ten years or so doing everything in his power to avoid biting anybody. But his hand had been forced. He couldn't go on. Time to drive into town and find the first hooker that would have him or the first homeless person he could spot on their own. He felt sick at the idea. But given the state he was in, it didn't make much difference.

Sniper just hoped he'd be able to drive himself into town without blacking out. He turned the key in the ignition only to hear the engine cough, rattle and die. 'Fuck! No, come on!' he shouted, slamming a fist onto the dashboard. He turned the key again. 'Come. On!' Not even a splutter.

After twenty minutes of desperate searching under the bonnet, Sniper had to accept that he just didn't know what was wrong or how to fix it.

Engineer would. Engie would help him.

Except Engineer's truck was nowhere to be found. He must have headed out straight after the match. Sniper didn't know when he'd be back. It was usually late.

Sniper knew he should go hunting. But he also knew he didn't have the energy to drag himself far enough out into the woods, let alone to track down and kill anything.

An hour later and he slowly, sluggishly, pulled his lanky frame into bed. He curled up like a child beneath as many blankets as he'd been able to find. It didn't help. Sniper still shivered from cold while sweat beaded on his forehead. It wasn't dark yet but when he blinked open blurry eyes the whole world looked dull and distant. He closed them again. Tired. So tired. Everything hurt. Too cold. Too cold.

Sniper thought he'd never be able to sleep but it wasn't long before exhaustion caught up with him and he fell into a fitful sleep full of mocking spies and exposed necks.

Spy was sneaking about the enemy base tonight. He’d given up smoking for the week and was feeling irritable about it. But tonight would be worth it. He’d seen Sniper take off from his camper. He’d heard Engineer’s truck leave. He’d taken a wander through the nearly abandoned RED base just to make sure Sniper wasn’t still around, but it was only Heavy, Medic and Pyro holding down the fort.

Once he had assured himself that the camper would be his for the night, Spy headed over and quickly picked the lock. It was an easy one. Opening the door, he couldn’t help but smile. Though he knew he shouldn’t want Sniper to know he had been here, part of him wanted to move all of the bushman’s things around. Or leave a particularly devastating trap behind in his home. But for now, those would be fantasies. He had some secrets to uncover.

Spy quietly closed the door behind himself and looked around slowly. There was a small bed at the end of the camper, which hardly looked tall enough for the Sniper. It was heaped with blankets and pillows. Perhaps the man was susceptible to the cold.

The camper itself was very tight quarters. Spy was willing to bet Sniper never had guests. Spy certainly wouldn’t if he lived in a place like this. How embarrassing. But, at least he kept it tidy. Not clean, exactly, since it was still old and worn, even stained in places, but it wasn’t cluttered.

The man’s rifle, kukri and bow were both leaning against his counter and Spy couldn’t help running a gloved hand over the rifle’s stock. It was clearly a well cared for, albeit older, weapon than he’d expected. The sight was nothing exciting either, just an old iron sight. That still left the mystery of how Sniper kept shooting him while he was cloaked. The bow didn’t interest Spy much and he left it alone after a brief twang of the string.

There were some stained mugs and an empty thermos.  Mostly the camper smelled like coffee and… well, like Sniper.

So far, nothing too unexpected. Spy started opening cupboards. About what he expected, again, cereal and bread, coffee grounds. Nothing exciting.

Spy gritted his teeth, there had to be something that Sniper was using. Some kind of upgrade so he could find a cloaked Spy. There was no way Spy was clumsy enough to be found -and shot through the head- from so far away. It was impossible.

He was trying to snipe some BLUs from the kitchen window. The kitchen from the house he'd grown up in, that was, not the RED base. It was hard to concentrate though because his dad kept opening and closing the cupboard doors, looking for something. Sniper wanted to tell him to stop it, but if he said anything, that would attract his father's attention and then they'd end up having another row about his job.

Sniper opened his eyes a crack and shifted just enough to be able to look over his blanket covered shoulder at the rest of his van. The BLU Spy was there, peering at his coffee maker.

'Wuh?'

Sniper tried to push himself up into a sitting position but his head was too heavy. He couldn't do it. He ended up collapsing face first over his mound of blankets.

'Go away,' he croaked, voice muffled by the material beneath him.

He would have been more insistent and tried harder to sit up if he'd thought the Spy was actually real and not just another dream.

Spy froze like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Sniper was here. Asleep. Perhaps still dreaming. His heart was suddenly in his throat and as soon as Sniper settled back down into his bed, Spy crept a little closer. Once he’d confirmed that the man’s kukri was sheathed and with the rest of the weapons, he leaned over the bed, seeing a bit of tousled hair sticking out.

Did he usually sleep through his off days or was he ill?

Spy had been considering leaving a trap, but now he wasn’t sure. If he was caught setting it up that could go badly.

Sniper was on a carousel. He hadn't been on one of those in years. It swept him around and around and around, quicker and quicker. He wrapped his arms around the wooden horse to stop himself flying off, eyes shut tight.

He opened them again to darkness. He shifted his head slightly. No, he'd just had his face pressed into a blanket. He shivered and pulled it closer. Then he frowned. Something cut through the delirious, muzzy static in his head. A strange scent. His upper jaw began to ache, like when you're just about to try and eat a lemon whole. He extracted a shaky hand from amongst the blankets and rubbed the back of his knuckles against one side. The taste of venom seeped into his mouth. Strange.

That and the scent perked Sniper up, making him pay more attention to his surroundings. He looked up and froze. The BLU Spy was standing right over him. Right. Over him.

Sniper tried to say something, anything, but the words were trapped in the back of his throat.

The BLU Spy was right. There.

Sniper took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the Spy's scent.

He couldn't stop staring.

The Sniper did look sick, and confused. He was pale and sweaty, his eyes unfocused. Spy took a step away from the bed, considering what sort of trap to lay outside the bushman’s door once he was outside.
Though, even a sick Sniper was a threat. Especially the way they’d been fighting lately. Spy uncoiled his garrotte and leaned down, putting his knee on the bed and looping the wire around Sniper’s neck. It should be an easy fight with him in this state.

Sniper should have moved. Should have tried to get away. The mattress dipped beneath him as the Spy leaned in. So close. So close. Sniper could hear his elevated heart rate.

Silver wire crossed his vision.

No.

NO.

Panic gripped him, cutting through the haze in his mind as the garrotte cut into his throat.

A painful pressure grew just above his canines.

'No!' He managed to whisper. 'Stop!'

The Spy didn't know what he was doing. Didn't know what was about to happen.

Spy chuckled. “No, I don’t think so.” The wire dug into the man’s pale, stubbly skin and Spy let his other knee rest on the bed as he pulled the wire taut.

Like a bow string that had been held to taut for too long, Sniper snapped. Fangs burst through his gums. With a strength that surprised even himself, Sniper snatched hold of the Spy by the lapels on his jacket and yanked him down. The Spy's chin hit his shoulder but Sniper didn't care. He couldn't even feel the garrotte anymore, let alone that.

His entire world had focused down to the Spy's heartbeat and the blood it was pumping through his body.

Sniper turned his head and sunk fangs deep into the Spy's neck. He grimaced at the sensation of fabric against his tongue. He'd forgotten about the mask. He'd deal with that in a moment.

Sniper had never bitten anyone before. He wasn't sure how much venom to use. Or even what effect it would have. That varied from vampire to vampire. He let just a little trickle into the wound despite the pressure in his jaw begging him to flood the Spy with venom.

Spy screamed. In all his life, all the pain and the death he’d been through here and before, nothing had felt like this. The surprise alone was awful, but not long after the bite itself, his neck started to feel like fire, like barbed needles pulling at him. Nothing should feel like this.

He’d dropped his garrotte. His fingers were shoved between Sniper’s teeth in an effort to pry him off his neck but he didn’t dare pull too hard. The man was really latched on, his teeth were so sharp. With the other hand he pulled at Sniper’s hair, his ear, his collar, anything he could reach.

He babbled in French, screaming and crying. Fighting hard, he managed to get his knees against the bed on either side of Sniper’s thin body but he couldn’t pull himself away without hurting his neck… even if he could break Sniper’s grip.

No one had ever warned Sniper that humans would make quite this much fuss when bitten. Or that they might actually put their fingers in his mouth. Sniper growled low and wrapped his arms tightly around the Spy to keep him in place. Now for the tricky bit. On some level, instinct told him what to do but this was still new territory to him. And he'd have to do something about that mask first.

Sniper was panting now, equal parts determined, excited, desperate and exhausted.

He grazed his fangs down the panicked Spy's neck until they snagged against the lowest part of the mask he could reach. Teeth catching against the Spy's skin beneath, he tugged hard, pulling the mask up. He repeated it again, bunching it further up his neck, exposing one puncture mark.

It would have been easier to use one of his hands but the Spy was struggling too much for him to risk letting go. Sniper had spent the last few days trying to fool himself, but he knew he was dying. He needed what the Spy had to give him. And he couldn't have stopped now if he'd wanted to.

Pale, blood-stained skin now exposed, Sniper went for the Spy again. Two smaller but equally sharp teeth burst up from his bottom jaw as he latched his mouth over the initial bite, anchoring himself in place.

Sniper shuddered as hot, fresh human blood flooded over his tongue for the first time.

Chapter Text

Spy struggled against Sniper’s iron strong grip on his wrists, but even though he was the one on top, he couldn’t get away.
He found himself repeating the words Sniper had said before Spy had leaned over him. “Stop! Non!”
His gloves had ripped on Sniper’s sharp teeth and he was still clamped on, even more firmly now, and Spy could feel himself getting weaker, his head swimming. Sniper was biting him. Tearing into his neck like an animal. Spy could barely keep a single thought in his head, in any language, and his pleas became sounds instead of words.
Sniper pulled up his mask and Spy’s struggles began anew. He just couldn’t manage to get away.

Sniper was breathing heavily through his nose as he gulped down the Spy's blood. There were strange, desperate little whining sounds that sometimes overlapped with the noises the struggling Spy was making. That meant they must be coming from Sniper. He couldn't bring himself to care. His eyes were closed to allow him to concentrate better of his sense of taste and smell.

Blood still tasted like blood. It should have disgusted him, made him want to throw up. Instead, Sniper felt such intense, overwhelming relief at the blood washed down his throat that he was having an embarrassingly difficult time stopping himself from crying.

The Spy was still struggling hard though. The seal of Sniper's lips over the Spy's throat kept breaking, letting blood and spit bubble up. Sniper grimaced as it ran down his chin, though the Spy's neck was faring the worst for it.

Sniper didn't like how messy this was getting. The Spy really needed to stop being so damn wriggly. Instinctively, Sniper let the rest of his venom run into the wound. He still wasn't sure of its effect but it would hopefully help subdue the Spy in some way.

Sniper hadn't been a vampire long enough to have potent enough venom to start the change in just one dose. The Spy would be fine. Well, in a sense.

The noises coming from both of them were horrific. Gasping and whining and disgusting, wet sounds. Spy could barely believe the sounds he was making either, his voice turning into a weak mewl.

Something started to happen after awhile, the burning sensation became a numbness and Spy felt his muscles start to relax. It filled him with absolute terror, but he could no longer fight and he collapsed completely on top of Sniper. To his shame, he began to weep, unable to do anything else.

Sniper sighed in relief. That was better. He was more cradling the Spy to him now rather than holding him in place, but he didn't care.

Sniper felt like he was just starting to get the hang of things when he realised it was time to stop. With how Sniper's stomach had shrunk from lack of food over the last few days, he was feeling more than full.

He carefully disengaged his teeth, jaw stiff from being locked open for so long. Without really thinking about it, he licked the bites on the Spy's neck clean. Vampire saliva could help clot a wound when it came into contact with air.

Sniper let his head fall back onto the bed. He opened his eyes to find the world around him more intensely vivid than it had any right to be. Even though it was growing dark now, Sniper could see perfectly. More than perfectly. He could focus in on every scratch and mark on his ceiling, no matter how small. Even something so insignificant was mesmerising to Sniper. He felt like he was experiencing the most intensely perfect high and most blissful afterglow of his life simultaneously.

He rolled his head lazily to one side, studying his van as though it were a work of art. Moving his head felt weird. Weird but good. A crooked smile spread across his face, exposing fangs. Everything felt good.

Holy shit.

So this was what all the fuss was about.

Spy shuddered as Sniper’s teeth pulled free of his neck. At first he thought it was over, but then the bushman leaned back in and licked at his wound like a dog. Spy closed his eyes tightly and wished he’d wake up. This had to be a nightmare. How could this be real?

He was struggling to think, everything was covered in a thick fog of fear. And even though he was full of adrenaline and his heart was beating out of his chest, he couldn’t move. Even moving the tips of his fingers was a hardship. He tried to swallow a sob but it was difficult to fight even the sounds bubbling up from his chest.

A sound drew Sniper's attention. It slowly filtered through to him that he currently had the BLU Spy's entire body sprawled on top of him. Thinking about that, it was kind of weird. Sniper found it difficult to care until he registered a shudder in the chest pressed against his and the small noises the Spy was making fell into place.

The BLU Spy was crying.

The BLU Spy. Crying.

Sniper didn't know what to do. For a moment, he was tempted to try and offer comfort. But he'd never had someone cry around him like this. He didn't know how you were supposed to behave in this situation.

Then he remembered who this was. That conniving, backstabbing bastard who delighted in stalking and hurting him. He'd found Sniper weak and dying and brought out his garrotte again despite the begging.

And then it finally occurred to him just how inappropriate, socially speaking, it was to have the enemy Spy (the male enemy Spy) lying on top of you in bed.

Damn, this was all around awkward now he thought about it.

Respawn didn’t come, no matter how much Spy thought it ought to. He was trembling, but he couldn’t force himself to sit up, or even move his hands. He willed himself not to shed any more tears, but his eyes were wet and when he blinked they rolled down his cheeks and soaked into his mask.
Laying on Sniper’s chest, he could feel how hard the man was breathing, how excited he was, and it made his skin crawl. He was cold, sweating, so weak that he felt feverish.

Sniper shifted his left hand to the Spy's shoulder and pushed. He pulled one leg up and tipped his hip to the right, which was awkward given the  situation, but helped roll the Spy off him.

Sniper's bed was only small. When the Spy rolled off him and onto his back, one of his arms fell limply over the edge of the bed.

Sniper could see the Spy's face now. He was pale, his neck smeared with drying blood and his mask twisted slightly off to one side. His brown eyes stared up at the ceiling, glassy with tears. The Spy's thin chest heaved, as though he couldn't get enough air into his lungs and Sniper could hear his heart still beating frantically against his ribs.

Sniper had never seen him look so dishevelled or so utterly beaten.

It was creepy actually, how unresponsive and limp he was. Something about having someone beaten and bloody and unable to move in his bed made Sniper suddenly feel like an utter creep.

Spy’s head lolled back limply, his arm hanging off the bed. This couldn’t be real. He’d lost too much blood and he was hallucinating. He was hallucinating Sniper’s bloody red mouth, the way he’d licked the blood off his neck, the guilty sort of way he looked down at him now. Like a man who has just realized that his partner had had far too much to drink, Spy thought.
He should be angry, or disgusted, but he was finding it harder to feel much of anything. He was sort of floating, his thoughts quite fuzzy and warm, and the cold sweat he’d broken out in turned to shivers but he didn’t mind very much. Tears were still forming but he wasn’t unhappy now, so much as overwhelmed. It was an odd sort of feeling, sort of golden and terrible, and Spy found he loved it.
“Qu’avez-vous fait?”

The Spy was shivering now. Sniper wondered if he was cold. It would make sense, given the blood loss, and the way Sniper himself felt perfectly warm. That was amazing in itself. He'd been almost constantly cold since his transformation, even back in Australia. For the first time in a long he felt a comfortable temperature.

He felt amazing all round, actually. If the Spy hadn't come into his van he would probably have woken up the next day too weak to get out of bed, if he woke up at all.

But now the pain was gone. The joint aches, the nausea, the shakes, the exhaustion, the dizziness. It was all gone.

Sniper yawned. He still felt tired. But a good tired. He felt full and satisfied and ready to curl up and sleep for the night.

He wasn't sure what to do about the Spy though. The Spy had managed to say something, but it was in French so Sniper had no answer for him.

Something solid knocked against his shoulder as Sniper shifted. He reached over to touch it and felt something shift under his neck. The garrotte. He had it by one of the handles. He sat up and slipped it free. Even in the dull late evening light, it seemed to gleam. Sniper turned slowly to look at the Spy again, garrotte in hand.

It would serve him right.

Sniper could slip the garrotte over the Spy's head, just like the Spy had done to him. Take hold of the handles, cross over the wires, pull to the sides. He could do it slow, an ever-increasing pressure that would gradually cut into the Spy's flesh and crush his windpipe. Would the Spy be able to find a way to overcome Sniper's venom and fight back? Or would he have to lie there helplessly and unmoving while he died?

The Spy blinked, a fresh tear rolling down the side of his face and soaking into his mask. He shivered again, more violently than before.

Sniper tossed the garrotte aside.

Spy could only wait and watch as Sniper picked up the garrotte. He was helpless, useless. He still felt full of euphoria, his head buzzing with it, his nerves all lit up. The only thing he didn’t like much was how cold he felt.

Sniper seemed to decide against the garrotte and Spy shut his eyes, not sure if he felt relieved or disappointed. Respawn would at least get him out of this nightmare, but on the other hand, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so relaxed, so at ease.

Sniper hadn’t answered his question and Spy was fairly certain he’d spoken it aloud. He tried another, whispering.

“What now?”

What now? What now? Sniper had bitten the Spy, drank his blood and all the guy had to say was 'what now?'

He was probably in shock or something though. That was a thing that happened to people, right?

To be honest, Sniper wasn't sure what to do next. Having the BLU Spy here in his bed was rather... uncomfortable. Especially when all he wanted to do was roll over and fall asleep.

He could always solve the problem by pushing the Spy out of bed. There was something rather rude about draining a guy of blood and then tossing him on the floor though. Sniper may have grown up to be an out-doorsy assassin, but his mother had raised him to have good manners.

He could always kill the Spy. That'd probably sort both their problems out. But again, it'd be rude. Even if he was certain the Spy would have done so in his place.

'Can you sit up?' Sniper asked.

Spy gave him a look. God, this was really happening. Sniper had really just bitten him, had… Spy managed to roll his head to the side, away from the assassin. He thought ought to feel ill, but all that he felt was that glowing feeling. The sort of feeling that he normally liked to have a cigarette after.

This just couldn’t be happening. Sniper was talking to him like he was still a human being, but he’d ripped into Spy’s throat and lapped up his blood like some kind of animal. How could someone speak words with blood on their lips? Spy felt a laugh bubbling up.

'I'm... gonna take that as a no.'

Sniper wondered if it was usually like this for other vamps after they fed: Awkward.

Sniper extricated himself from the remaining blankets on him (most of which were bloody and ruined; he'd need to go buy some more), and carefully clambered over the Spy without touching him.

Sniper was glad he'd been feeling so cold earlier, otherwise he would have gone to bed how he usually did. Naked. He wasn't sure either of them would have been able to cope with that right now.

He grabbed a mug, checked it was clean, and then filled it with water from the tap. Turning back to the Spy, he tried to work out the best way to do this.

Spy, still immobilized by the Sniper’s venom, could only watch him. He felt exhausted. Even keeping his eyes open was hard. He wanted to get the bloody mask off his face so it wouldn’t congeal to him, but he couldn’t remove the mask in front of his enemy. He very much wanted to go back to his own base and have a hot shower and a cigarette and pretend that none of this had ever happened and forget about Sniper completely.

On the plus side he could move his fingers now and he focused on that, still shivering with cold. His gloves had torn on Sniper’s teeth somehow (he’d never paid any attention to Sniper’s teeth, were they very sharp? That seemed like something he’d remember), Spy couldn’t tell how much clothing the blood had ruined but at this point he was pretty sure nothing was salvageable. Perhaps including the man underneath the clothes. Would the bite marks go away if he didn’t respawn immediately? Or would they scar? Spy shuddered.

Sniper stifled another yawn, feeling dried blood on his face crack and flake. He rubbed his sleeve over his mouth and chin to try and get rid of the worst of it.

'Okay, I'm gonna help sit you up.'

Sniper didn't want to. He really didn't want to touch the BLU Spy again. He should have just killed the guy, but the moment had passed.

He put the mug on the edge of the counter and slid his hands under the Spy, to his armpits. The angle was a bit awkward but he managed to use his hold to pull the Spy's top half up. He stuck his knee under the Spy's back to help keep him up and let go with one hand for a moment to stuff a pillow and one of the blankets between the Spy and the wall.

Either the Spy was a lot lighter than he'd ever realised, or Sniper was feeling stronger than normal, because he didn't struggle as much with the dead weight as he would have expected.

He didn't dare let go of the Spy, sure he'd keel over one way or the other without support. Swapping hands, he wrapped his right around the Spy's shoulders to keep him upright and reached for the mug with his left.

'Can you swallow?'

Yep, he should definitely have just killed the Spy. It would have made things so much easier and so much less awkward.

If Spy had been more himself, he would have made some snide comment about Sniper’s awkward question, but at the moment all he wanted was the water. He nodded mutely, waiting for Sniper to bring the cup to his lips. It was a clumsy affair, Spy nearly choking, some water spilling down his chin, but he hardly cared. His breathing was still fast, his body still limp and shivering.

He had so many questions, but not one of them could be put into words. Every time he thought he had one, he realized it was just a ‘why?’ or a ‘what?’ and those were perhaps too broad to elicit much of an answer. He doubted Sniper would be much help in explaining what was going on anyway.

'Careful,' Sniper chided, even though it was him who'd tipped the mug too much. 'Small sips. Small sips or you'll be throwing it all back up again.'

He hadn't killed the Spy. He hadn't kicked him out of bed. Instead, without really intending to, he'd gone for the aftercare route.

After losing blood, the human will be dehydrated. Get them to drink a glass of water slowly, supporting them upright if need be.

What else had he been told?

Make sure the bites have closed up properly. Keep the human warm. Give them nutritional food if they are up to it. Fruit and vegetables for vitamins, meat, fish or certain nuts for iron, sugary foods for glucose. Provide iron supplements if possible.

He was pretty sure there was supposed to be some kind of comfort element to it as well but this was all for consented feeding. Not for what you were supposed to do after forcibly draining someone who'd broken into your home.

Especially when they were a BLU Spy.

Spy felt as though he was falling asleep sitting up. And around an enemy no less. He couldn’t help it, he was exhausted and drained, in every sense of the word.

Some part of him still hoped that if he fell asleep he’d wake up to find that it had just been a nightmare. No nightmare could be this detailed, this slow. Spy closed his eyes. There was no point in keeping an eye on Sniper anymore. The man had complete control of the situation and had decided to give Spy water, after having bitten him.

Apparently neither of them knew how to feel.

'You should eat something really,' Sniper said hesitantly, looking around his kitchenette as though he could see straight through the cupboard doors. 'Can't say I've got much in here at the moment though...'

Sniper could hardly believe anything that was coming out of his mouth right now. This was new, weird territory for him. And if it was weird for him, Sniper couldn't imagine what it was like for the Spy right now.

Spy didn’t understand why Sniper was trying to baby him. It was beyond him. He ignored the man, keeping his eyes closed, hoping that with the inability to move he had also gained the power to fall asleep around men that could murder him, or perhaps worse, undress him.

Perhaps if he kept his eyes closed long enough, Sniper would leave, or kill him, and then Spy could figure out what had happened on his own.

'Umm...' Sniper figured he must have accidentally been talking to an unconscious person. 'Uh, okay...' At least the Spy had managed a full mug of water before passing out. His heartbeat sounded strong, so Sniper was pretty certain he wasn't going to die in his sleep.

Sniper carefully extricated himself, letting the Spy lay back on the pillow he'd propped up. He refilled the mug and set it on the edge of the counter. When the Spy woke up-whenever that would be- he'd likely be horribly dehydrated still.

Now he was standing up and looking at his bed, Sniper had to face a certain problem.

There was a BLU Spy in his bed.

Chapter Text

There was a BLU Spy in his bed.

A BLU Spy.

In his bed.

There was nowhere else in Sniper's cramped van for him to sleep.

He rubbed a hand across his tired face. There was nothing for it. They'd have to share. Thank God the Spy was already asleep.

Christ, this was awkward.

As smoothly as he could, Sniper slipped his hand down the front of the Spy's suit jacket.

Sniper talked to himself briefly before laying Spy back against the pillow and running a tap. Spy kept his eyes closed. The worst part was that he was so exhausted, his pretending to be unconscious might actually not be pretending for much longer.

Then Sniper’s hand was against Spy’s chest. If he hadn’t been dosed with venom, Spy would have tensed with fear. As it was, he stayed still, but his heartbeat jumped. What was Sniper doing?

Well… it wasn’t as though he could fight back. Logically, all he could do was talk to Sniper, and he’d already chosen this route. He might as well take it as far as he could. Spy prided himself on trying to calm his fears with logic, even if it didn’t always work.

Sniper pulled the Spy's knife and disguise kit out of his inner pocket. The Spy wouldn't be needing either tonight. Or perhaps he would, in which case: tough. He scooped the garrotte off of the floor as well and paused thoughtfully.

The garrotte and knife went into the chipped old mug that held his rarely-used cooking utensils. Both dropped out of sight among the potato masher, ladle, wooden spoon and assorted spatulas. The Spy had other knives and no legitimate need for the garrotte. It wouldn't kill him if he didn't get either back in the morning. (And better yet, it wouldn't kill Sniper either.)

He placed the disguise kit down on the counter near the door. There was no actual reason for him to hide it, as the Spy couldn't use it to kill him in his sleep. Something inside rattled as he put it down. Sniper glanced towards the Spy. Still asleep by the looks of things. He prised the disguise kit carefully open, only for a couple of metal tacks to fall out. He caught the rest of the contents and placed them down before going to retrieve the tacks from the floor. They weren't the kind of thing you wanted to accidentally stand on in the night. He scooped them up and inspected the rest of the contents. Cigarettes, these strange little mask things, a battery, some wire, a rifle shell and more tacks.

A bit of an odd collection, if you asked Sniper. He put everything back inside and closed the case again. Whatever the Spy wanted to keep in his disguise kit was his own business.

Spy wasn’t terribly happy to see Sniper going through his things, especially the bits he'd been planning on using to make a trap, but he didn’t dare keep his eyes open long. Sniper deposited his things, mostly untouched, away from Spy. It wasn’t as though he could use them in his current state anyway.

It became harder and harder to open his eyes and though he fought it he soon legitimately fell asleep. On the enemy Sniper’s bed. With the enemy Sniper right there.

Merde.

Sniper turned back to his bed, and to the Spy lying on it. His face was angled towards Sniper, eyes closed. Sniper approached him. If he listened hard enough, he could hear the Spy's heartbeat. A little faster than it should have been, but regular. Good. That was the best case scenario considering the blood loss.

Even asleep, the Spy had a sort of seriousness to his face. Maybe it was the nose. The effect was ruined slightly by a tuft of short brown hair that had escaped under the mask where it had been pulled off to one side.

Sniper felt weird seeing it. He'd never seen a spy's hair before. He'd kind of assumed they were all bald or something, though he wasn't sure where he'd got that idea from.

Worried that if he stared anymore, the Spy was going to wake up and catch him, Sniper decided to call it a night. He carefully climbed over the Spy, trying not to wake him, though he couldn't help the way the mattress dipped down under his added weight.

His bed was an odd size. It was a double bed that had been cut down to fit the room available, leaving it not much bigger than a single. Sniper dug his way over the bloody (but thankfully dry) blankets and sheets as far away from the Spy as he could manage. He didn't need all of the covers anymore. Looking around for an idea as to what to do with them, his eyes fell on the Spy.

He'd get cold during the night. Feeling faintly ridiculous over the fact that he was tucking the enemy Spy into his bed, Sniper covered the Spy up and settled down to sleep himself.

He thought it would take him forever to fall asleep, but even with a Spy at his back, he drifted off in minutes.

Spy woke with a throbbing headache. His mouth was dry and his whole body felt stiff. Slowly he sat up and took stock of himself.

Oh. He'd so hoped that had been a nightmare.

He was covered in dry blood from his jaw down to his navel. The Sniper was asleep inches from him, with dried blood still on his chin. Spy stood, lost his balance tangled in the blankets, and caught himself on Sniper's counter.

Grabbing his disguise kit, he bolted out of the van without stopping to see if he'd woken his enemy.

Spy ran stiff-legged out through the cold morning grass. The dawn was just starting to warm the sky and he shivered, adjusting his mask and opening his disguise kit. He disguised himself before getting anywhere near his base. He knew the BLU Sniper would most likely be awake by now and running into any of his teammates looking like this and coming from the enemy base… well it wouldn’t look good. He wasn’t sure what it would look like, but he did not want to explain himself.

He passed Scout on his way for his morning run and froze, letting the brash young man pass him silently. As soon as he was out of sight, Spy headed immediately for the showers. He stank of sweat and blood and fear and it was disgusting.

Locking the door as soon as he was inside, Spy leant against it briefly, taking a few long, shuddering breaths. He began stripping off his clothes. Everything was stuck to him, and it pulled at his skin as he struggled out of it. His neck ached, his fingers were stiff and painful and as he removed his gloves he saw the shallow cuts and scrapes from trying to pry Sniper’s teeth off his neck. He gently removed the two prosthetic fingers from his right hand and set them aside.

Turning on the hot water, Spy let it heat up before he stepped under it with a hiss of pain. It made all his injuries sting. Swallowing hard, he tilted his head back and swallowed some of the water, rinsing out his mouth and spitting, letting the pink water run away from his body.

“Mon dieu,” he groaned. His head ached, his hands ached, his neck ached. He could barely process any of the previous night.

Sniper was some sort of creature. Something that drank blood. A vampire? Was that possible? It could just be a medical condition. Perhaps the man was just mad. He just thought he was a vampire. He just drank blood because he believed he needed to.

As clean as he could be, having soaped and scrubbed himself twice over and washed out his hair roughly -and particularly scratched and clawed at his neck to try and feel cleaner- Spy stepped out of the water and towelled off. He went to the mirror and had a look at himself. He was pale, eyes puffy from crying yesterday. He looked awful. Spy considered shaving, but his hands were shaky and he didn’t trust himself with his straight razor.

He re-affixed his prosthetics, gathered his horrible clothes, cloaked, and headed to his room to try and prepare himself for the day’s battle. He still had two hours. His clothes were thrown into the garbage immediately. He’d dispose of them properly later, but for now his room was a safe place to hide the evidence of… whatever it was that had happened.

Scoping out the camper.

Leaning over Sniper, so sure he had the advantage.

Sniper biting into his throat.

Sniper comforting him, giving him water.

Them spending the night asleep together.

Spy buried his face in his hands. It was hard to keep everything straight. The foggy, golden feeling permeated the memories from last night and even though there was so much terror, there was also that… glow. It was such an intimate feeling. Had Sniper felt like that after? How embarrassing for them both.

Alright. Assuming Sniper was a vampire, Spy thought as he started to dress himself, what did that mean? Did he have an unfair advantage on the field? Well, he did often manage to headshot Spy while he was cloaked. That had always felt -Spy hesitated to use the word-supernatural.

Other than that Sniper seemed quite human. He was awkward. He died. He felt pain. Did he drink blood often? Perhaps that was what he drank out of his thermos. Was it human blood or animal blood? Sniper did go hunting in the woods and that said to Spy that he drank animal blood as well.

The time passed faster than Spy had expected and soon he was out on the field, still dry-mouthed and sore, flinching at loud noises and falling prey to Pyro far more often than he usually did. Where did Sniper get his human blood? Or did he not drink it? Did he have someone he usually drank from? That would explain how he acted afterwards with Spy, trying to care for him like he’d been a consenting partner in the affair. The idea of Sniper having a consenting partner to bite was a little ridiculous, though. Spy snorted at the idea of Sniper awkwardly biting someone else.

The snort gave him away and the RED Soldier sent him straight to respawn. It barely broke Spy’s train of thought. This would also explain why Sniper had come across as queer. He looked at Spy with hunger and Spy had misinterpreted what kind.

Now, what to do about this?

He could hardly ignore Sniper after what had happened and pretend that nothing had occurred, even if part of him desperately wanted to. He could blackmail Sniper with the information, but to what end? The man was stubborn and wouldn’t let his reputation come under questioning, plus admitting that he’d been fed on was hardly what Spy had in mind.

Spy rubbed his temples wearily, suddenly longing for that wonderful afterglow again. He’d figure it out. He’d just stay away from the Sniper for now and figure it out.

Sniper had only slept in the same bed as someone else a handful of times in his life. Every time he'd woken up repeatedly, his sleep disturbed by the close presence of another human being.

That time though, Sniper didn't wake up once during the night. It was only around dawn when the Spy made his less-than-subtle bid for freedom, that Sniper awoke. He let the Spy go without comment, more than happy to have his bed to himself.

Sniper fell asleep again within minutes and didn't come around again until his alarm woke him up. He stretched and blinked and took in the carnage. Pretty much everything on his bed was ruined. He'd have to get Engineer to look at his truck today so he could go into town and buy new bedding. He just hoped none of the blood had soaked into his mattress.

After bundling everything up in a bin bag for later, Sniper did his best to tidy himself up. He needed to go into the base to get a proper shower, but he couldn't head in looking like this.

He wondered if the Spy had managed to avoid detection. What on earth would his teammates presume if they found him heading away from the RED base after a full night away, covered in blood but not obviously injured? It would be like the world's most ominous walk of shame.

Chapter Text

When the battle came around, Sniper did his best to avoid the Spy. It was easier than expected. All of Sniper's senses were heightened, but that strange feel he'd always had for where the Spy was had faded. Sniper predicted it would slowly return as he started to starve again.

Not a single headshot. Spy was amazed. He hadn't had a single battle without one. It made him wonder if Sniper was avoiding him just as much as he was avoiding Sniper. Did the bushman feel guilty for the incident yesterday?

Spy's numbers were still at a record low and the humiliation round was over quickly, as he burned to death.

He continued to avoid his team. He'd missed two meals already though and his stomach growled unhappily at him. Spy was sure he could sneak into the kitchen for a sandwich without being noticed.

Unfortunately, Medic was there, and it seemed as though he was waiting for him.

"You're not looking well today," he remarked, faux-casually, watching Spy studiously ignore him while making the fastest sandwich he could throw together.

"I slept poorly," Spy grabbed a plate and practically bolted. There was no way he could explain this to anyone. Especially the morbidly curious doctor. Surely Sniper would be afraid of being found out by his Medic too. Unless that was his usual supply of blood. Or perhaps vampirism was the result of one of the RED Medic's experiments?

Or maybe all the REDs were secretly vampires.

Or maybe everyone on both teams apart from him.

There was just too much to think about.

Spy ate his sandwich but he still felt weak. He curled up on his bed fully dressed and fell into an uneasy sleep.

His dreams were nightmares at first, but they slowly became something more. At first he was pursued, Sniper with his large knife and blood on his face, Spy hiding and running, no traps or tricks or weapons left. But once caught, Sniper held him and pressed his lips to Spy’s exposed neck and that sweet warmth fell over Spy again and he didn’t want to escape it.

He woke feeling rather betrayed by his own subconscious.

Despite not getting the Spy once, Sniper had been on top form that day. He got a record number of kills thanks to his enhanced senses and reflexes. He felt a bit bad about it when even the usually obnoxious Scout grudgingly praised him for his kills after the match.

Sniper had been cheating, after all.

He sorted out his van and bedding problem after the battle and settled down that night to fresh, clean sheets and fluffy new pillows. His dreams when they came were all about hunting and stalking. To begin with he thought he was tracking an injured deer through the forest. Soon though he realised it was the BLU Spy he was following.

He caught sight of the BLU just as a wave of dread swept over him. The Spy spotted him too and staggered away, neck already bloody.

'Come back!' Sniper called. He tried to run after the Spy but found himself unable to move properly. He waded forward as though through a river, though there was nothing in his way.

'Don't go that way!' he shouted as the Spy fled. 'There's a feral! A feral! Come back!'

Maybe crawling would be quicker. He fell to his hands and knees, trying to follow after the BLU Spy. But it was too late. A distant scream filled the air.

Sniper awoke, sweating, memories of bloody teeth and snarling and wild, inhuman eyes running through his mind.

He flung himself out of bed and grabbed his shaving mirror. His own face stared back, startled and scruffy. But human. Well, as close as he could get these days.

Thursday passed agonizingly slow. Spy struggled through the battle, plagued by questions and still unsure how to process the ordeal. Medic continued to pester him and he took to having meals privately in his room.

On Friday, Spy grabbed a wire snare. He needed to get answers. Whether it worked today or not, he needed to do it. He had a good plan for it too. There was a particular sniper tower with a few missing steps thanks to a rocket. If he could get Sniper caught in the snare there, he’d end up upside down hanging by his ankle under the stairs and Spy could properly question him. Safely.

Battle started and Spy took off, attaching the wire snare on the step right before the jump. He made sure it was quite firmly attached to the stair railing. Finally, he shot out the light so that the snare wouldn’t be seen.

It had been nearly a week since Sniper had bitten the Spy. Sniper was coping better than expected with the lack of blood, probably because of how much fresh human blood he’d had. All the same, he was approaching the stage where he was losing his ability to digest food properly. Once he couldn't eat, he'd deteriorate quickly. Engineer had fixed his van though. That meant Sniper could potentially try his luck in town. All the same, a little voice in the back of his head nagged at him, telling him he had everything he needed right here.

Sniper's sixth sense for the Spy's presence was starting to return. He could tell the Spy was nearby, though he couldn't pinpoint where exactly.

The Pyro stuck its monstrous masked head in at the sound of the shot and Spy froze, slowly backing  up the stairs. It came further up to have a look at the broken light, then apparently satisfied, left.

Spy gave it a couple of minutes to make sure they absolutely were gone. With a sigh of relief, Spy started to head down the stairs. Just as he was stepping over his trap, the higher stair gave way and he fell, only to find himself dangling upside down from his own trap; the wire digging painfully into his skinny ankle.

It took everything Spy had not to scream in pain and frustration.

Sniper heard a noise like splintering and falling wood. Instantly suspicious, he went in search of the source. It sounded like it had come from the direction of the stairs but when Sniper got there everything seemed normal.

Except...

There'd only been two steps missing earlier, hadn't there? Sniper wondered what had caused the third to fall through. Probably someone climbing up it. Sniper glanced over his shoulder. He didn't fancy the idea of being stuck up here with the Spy. He'd brought his stuff with him when he went exploring. There was nothing left that he needed to go back for and risk a backstab over.

Carefully, using the support attached to the wall, Sniper navigated his way over the empty space.

Something caught his attention as he passed over the missing steps. Something blue.

Sniper flinched, expecting to be attacked. Then his mind registered what he was seeing.

The BLU Spy. Hanging upside down by one ankle. From a wire. One of his own traps, no doubt. His jacket was bunched up around his armpits, exposing the shirt underneath. His tie had fallen over his face, dangling a little way below his head.

In short, he looked ridiculous. Sniper started laughing and found that he couldn't stop.

Spy heard the Sniper coming down the stairs but there was nothing he could do. When the man started laughing he fought to pull himself up by the edge of the stairs far enough to get the pressure off the wire so he could unhook it. No such luck. He ended up swinging.

He'd basically wrapped himself up with a bow for a hungry vampire.

The Spy looked like a hooked fish flopping about. It was hilarious. It completely ruined the whole 'mysterious' vibe spies always went for.

Sniper made his way down the stairs to stand in front of the upside down Spy.

'Seriously, mate, how on earth did you manage this one?' he asked, grinning. 'Look at you, stuck like a rat in the trap. Your face is going all red, did you know that? Getting stuck in one of your own traps, now that is embarrassing. Or is it from all the blood rush–' Sniper stopped, the grin fading from his face until all that was left was an intense, predatory expression.

Real fear came through immediately. This was far beyond Spy's control and Sniper's expression made his blood run cold.

He needed to get out of here. Drawing his revolver, Spy knew the swinging wire meant his aim would be unsteady. He could shoot Sniper but then he'd still be trapped. He could shoot at the wire but it was unlikely he'd hit it and even if he did it might not break. That left himself. Spy had heard his teammates say they'd used it as an escape before. Scout had fallen off a roof and shot himself to respawn. It wasn't suicide, it was just respawning.

The Spy looked so funny upside down. But so vulnerable too. Thighs, groin, stomach, ribs, inner arms, throat. Everything would be so hard for him to defend and so easy for Sniper to stab with his kukri.

It was his throat Sniper was focused on though. It would be so easy to kneel next to him, bat away his arms, pull away the balaclava. So easy to bite him, to make him scream and beg and cry and-

Sniper shook his head to dislodge those thoughts. He was better than that.

He noticed the gun then and felt an instant thrill of fear. Then confusion. Then strangely, fear again.

'Oi, no, wait. You can get down without that!' He glanced around wildly. ‘Just—just wait a second!'

He couldn't see what he was looking for. Sniper turned back to the Spy to find him with the gun levelled at the side of his own head. His eyes were wide, his mouth pinched. He looked more like someone who was about to be shot by an enemy than someone planning to shoot themselves.

Sniper snarled, the sound not quite human, and lunged for the gun, twisting the muzzle away from both of them.

The revolver went off and Spy fought to keep it, head pounding from being upside down for so long and having the gun go off so close to his ears. He shouted at Sniper, no words, just sound. Maybe a teammate would hear them. Maybe anyone would hear him. His heart was racing, everything was starting to spin-and not just because of the wire. He wasn't sure if he ought to be relieved or afraid.

Despite the Spy's struggles it was easy for Sniper to rip the gun from his hand at toss it away. It clattered against the wall under the stairs, out of the reach of both of them.

'I said to wait a bloody second!' Sniper said. He found himself on his knees next to the Spy, acutely aware of how close they were and how hungry he was. Sniper paused, his mouth watering.

With a grimace, he forced himself back to his feet. 'Now, don't go anywhere!' he said, not entirely sure himself if he was joking or not.

Sniper rounded the corner and headed over to some tarpaulin against one wall. He dragged it aside, revealing musty, rotten hay bales and an old crate. Perfect. He dragged the crate away from the wall and pushed it back over to the Spy. 'Right, how am I gonna do this...' he muttered to himself.

'Lift your head up,' Sniper said. If the Spy didn't, he was going to get a crate to the face.

Spy obediently lifted his head, seeing where this was going. Once the crate was under him he braced against it with his arms, hoping it would loosen the wire enough for him to slip out. The wire was stuck tight in his skin and he'd need Sniper's help. Again. He held as still as he could, even as he could feel the adrenaline pumping through him.

Why was Sniper helping him at all? Spy guessed it must be guilt.

'Hmm, okay,' Sniper said, looking up at the wire. 'I'm just gonna kind of twist to the left-no, my left your right. I want you facing towards the stairs.' Sniper stepped around the Spy so he was to the left of him and put his hands on the Spy's front and back.

Heat was radiating off the Spy through his shirt, warming Sniper's cold hands. He felt unexpectedly jealous of that heat. He was so tired of being too cold all the time. He just wanted to be warm again. The Spy could make him warm again. His grip tightened on the Spy, nails digging in.

For Spy, this was like getting help from a wild dog that might try to eat him. He couldn't afford to just hang here. If he was found by the Engineer it would be obvious he'd broken his promise and he couldn’t allow that to happen. Sniper was his only option at this point.

He turned as instructed, his arms starting to shake with the effort of holding himself up. Sniper's fingernails were digging into his skin and he stifled a hiss.

Sniper blinked hard, forcing himself to help turn the Spy instead of standing there like an idiot, clutching at him with both hands.

Damn, Sniper felt hungry. He forced himself to think about how ridiculous the Spy would look, flailing around upside down while being bitten. It helped stop him from thinking about how much he wanted to bite the Spy. To feel the Spy's skin give way beneath his fangs. To taste his blood. To gulp it down. To-

No.

Stop it.

Sniper let go of the Spy and looked down at his hands. Short, blunt nails. Not claws. For a moment there, he'd worried.

'Right!' he said, all business now. 'Give me a second.'

He climbed up what remained of the bottom half of the stairs and reached through the gap to grab the Spy's free leg. Even his ankle felt warm through his socks, damn him.

'Hook your foot this over the step here,' he said, guiding the Spy's leg over to the last solid step below the gap. That way he could brace himself when Sniper released his other leg, rather than going crashing down onto the crate.

Spy's fear lessened when Sniper released him to climb up to the wire's anchor. He carefully hooked his foot where Sniper guided him, and re-braced his hands on the crate so he was less likely to break his neck when released.

Sniper felt cold, Spy realized. His hands had left cold spots on Spy's sides and he could feel him like ice against his ankle. Spy's head was pounding with blood. He just knew he'd have a terrible headache after this.

At least Sniper seemed focused on freeing him now. The pauses earlier made Spy think of a big cat licking its lips. It was uncomfortable to be prey. Men trying to shoot or kill him was nothing new, but eat him? That was a bit much, in his opinion.

Sniper leant over the gap to the Spy's trapped leg. It made him shake his head in vague amusement to think how the Spy had managed to get himself caught in his own snare. What an idiot.

He wasn’t sure why he was doing this. Maybe in helping Spy, he could prove to at least one of them that he wasn’t a monster.

The wire had dug in deep. Sniper felt around and found the loop that fed into the wire around the Spy's leg. He tugged at it until he wire began to slacken. It wasn't an easy job, but after a couple of minute of digging in his nails and pulling at it, he managed to loosen the snare enough to get it over the heel of the Spy's shoe.

'There you go,' he said a moment later. 'You're free now.'

Spy gasped in relief when the wire began to loosen. It had started to feel red hot and now all the blood rushed back where the wire had cut it off, sending pins and needles through his foot.

Letting his now free leg curl forwards towards the crate, Spy unhooked his shoe and let himself fall to his knees rather roughly. It stung a bit but he was glad to be right side up again. Tugging his mask back in order and straightening out his uniform, Spy felt marginally better, though his head still hurt and he imagined his face was still quite red. He massaged his ankle for a moment.

"Thank you."

Sniper was impressed the Spy had managed to get down himself without falling on his face. Sniper didn't think he would have been able to manage the same himself.

'Uh, no problem,' he said. Sniper was struck by two things then. One, that this was weird and awkward and that they hadn't actually said a word to each other since Sniper had, well, bitten the Spy. The other was that he desperately didn't want the Spy to leave. If he did, he took away all potential for Sniper to gain some relief from his hunger and thirst and perpetual cold temperature. Maybe that's why he'd reacted so quickly to the Spy trying to kill himself. Sniper just hadn't wanted to lose his meal ticket.

Hunger and frustration gripped Sniper as he forced himself to turn away. 'No more traps, okay?’ He muttered without turning around, ignoring the elephant in the room. That being what had happened the other night. He bet the Spy thought about it even more than he did. And certainly the Spy would be the one with the most questions left unanswered.

What did he think had happened? Could he remember it all or did Sniper's venom have properties that caused memory loss? What did he think of Sniper? That he was some kind of blood-obsessed deviant, or some kind of monster? Sniper wasn't sure which would be worse.

He was just such an awkward man that Spy could hardly understand how this Sniper -professional, merciful, uncertain- could be the same hungry animal who had bitten him. Spy started to laugh.

Sure that he looked giddy from the head rush, Spy tried to keep a sober face. So far his information on vampires was rumour and speculation. Sniper was the only one who could know for sure what had really happened.

And he clearly had some control of himself, too. Otherwise he would have bitten his helpless enemy while he was trapped.

"We need to talk. Privately."

Chapter Text

Sniper hunched his shoulders in annoyance. All he'd asked was for the Spy to stop messing around with those nasty traps of his! After helping the guy out like he had, was that really too much to ask? It certainly wasn't something worth laughing at him for.

"We need to talk. Privately."

A thrill of excitement and anticipation went through Sniper. He stamped it down forcibly.

Aiming for casual, he turned around and shrugged. 'No one else here now.'

"We have work to do," Spy reminded him, trying to sound as calm and collected as he looked. He was still shaken from the trap and his suicide attempt. He'd have to gather his revolver once he could put weight on his ankle. "Tonight. Your camper."

Hopefully he wasn't making a huge mistake in trying to see Sniper alone. Last time it hadn't gone terribly well. Still, the Sniper had tried to take care of him afterwards, and had just freed him. And all his dreams now left him with that odd afterglow Sniper's bite had given him.

Mostly he needed answers. He was a man who needed to know things, to have the answers to anything that piqued his interest.

He looked at Sniper and all he could see was his familiar and human enemy. Lanky, stubbly, tired-looking. Still. He needed to be sure he was right. He needed to be sure he was safe.

The temptation of that golden high was also decidedly alluring but Spy didn't want to think about that. It was like wanting to throw himself to the lions.

'Uh, okay,' Sniper agreed. He jokingly added, 'It's a date,' even though he hadn't found any sign of a sense of humour in the Spy. (Unsurprising really, considering their usual encounters involved trying to murder one another.) He didn’t get the delivery right. It fell flat and awkward.

Sniper didn't understand how the Spy could keep himself together so well. Sniper was pretty sure he had anxiety bleeding out of every pore despite his best attempts to be gruff and reserved.

Spy watched the man -monster?- try to pull off a joke and fail miserably.

Mon dieu, if this man really was a vampire, the rumours were quite a bit more suave than the real thing. Spy stood gingerly on his injured ankle and grabbed his revolver from the floor. His ankle hurt, but it would hold his weight at least.

He headed back out into the field with a final nod to Sniper, walking away as evenly as he could. He'd gather the remains of his trap later.

Sniper tried to put the Spy out of his head for the rest of the match. He realised near the end though that he'd messed up. He'd planned to go out into town tonight and try and find someone to feed off before he got too weak. But now he couldn't. The Spy hadn't given him a time.

Sniper took a swig of coffee laced with rabbit blood and closed his eyes against the wave of nausea that followed. Despite how much of an impact the Spy's blood had had on him, Sniper was almost back to starving again. He supposed it must be like having a large meal. It left you feeling full and satisfied at the time but it didn't take all that long for your body to digest it and demand more. Especially if you hadn't eaten for days before that.

Spy's thoughts were equally preoccupied, though far less with starvation and far more with the tangle of fear and bliss that he remembered from that night. He was afraid. He was nervous. Once the match was over he paced, he showered, he gnawed at his nails, he smoked and picked at his dinner. At least Medic didn't bother asking how he was tonight. Spy was afraid his usual blank mask might slip.

How could he prepare for something he didn't understand? And even worse, for something he wasn't sure he wanted to fight. Did he really want this again? Or was it a trap? A sort of drug or hypnosis meant to control him?

Perhaps he shouldn't go.

Spy’s anxiety thrashed in him. He needed to know more or the questions would eat at him. He took his knife and revolver. If those didn't work, well, it seemed unlikely that Sniper would truly betray this trust they had and change his usual strategy from merciful to cruel. Even if Spy couldn't say he'd do the same if their positions were reversed.

He waited until the sky was completely dark before setting off towards the enemy.

Sniper sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his icy hands together to try and get some warmth into them. He was running through how he was going to explain things. The Spy had wanted to talk, after all. That meant answers.

Sniper had spent the evening fretting in his van, not bothering to go to the base for dinner. He wouldn't have been able to swallow it anyway, not if he was struggling with coffee now.

He'd used the time to make sure his home was as clean and tidy and fresh smelling as possible. This was a spy after all. They were known for being fussy.

Spy arrived outside the old camper and stopped. He stood for nearly a full minute just a few feet from the door, fighting his last minute doubts. He needed to do this. He needed to know.

He knocked.

Despite having been waiting for it all this time, Sniper jumped at the knock. He scrambled to his feet and strode over to the door, only to pause. He took a deep breath. It didn't help, not with the BLU Spy's scent wafting in from the other side of the door.

He unlocked the door and peeked through the gap to make sure that it was, in fact, the Spy, and not Scout trying to bother him again.

BLU Spy.

Right.

'Um, come in,' Sniper said, opening the door fully and stepping back to let the Spy into his home. The camper van suddenly felt rather more small and cramped than he'd realised.

Spy hesitated one last second before stepping up into the camper and past Sniper, who he noticed wasn't wearing either of his usual hat or aviators . Spy stood in the small space, uncertain if he should sit or stand. They could have met outside, he supposed. But who knew who might pass by? It was safer inside. Even with Sniper and him crammed into a small area.

Spy sat down, waiting for Sniper to join him.

Sniper closed and locked the door behind him. It was to keep teammates out but he realised that to the Spy it might look as though he was being locked in here, with an enemy now blocking his only escape. Even spies weren't skinny enough to fit through the small gaps that were all the windows opened up to.

He leant against a counter, trying for casual again.

'Sooo...' he began.

Spy's mouth quirked in a smile. At least Sniper's awkwardness put him at ease. Even if him blocking the entrance made him nervous.

"As you can imagine, I have a lot of questions." Spy wasn't sure where to look, but finally settled for studying Sniper up close. A bit pale, maybe, but very human looking.

'Umm, yeah,' Sniper agreed, crossing his feet over and then uncrossing them again. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

'About the other night... Well, uh, sorry about that. I uh, I'm not usually like that.' He pulled his hands out of his pockets again to brush them through his hair, leaving it ruffled. Maybe it was a good thing he'd ran out of human blood now in a way. It meant he couldn't go red around the ears like he usually would.

'Where do you want to start exactly?'

Spy laughed. Not normally like that. As though Sniper had merely been in a bad mood.

"Let's start with what you are," Spy said, not sure how exactly to ask that. He wanted a word to call Sniper. He wasn't sure which one he was hoping he'd hear.

Ah, yes. Good place to start. Probably the only place to start, in fact.

'Well, I'm. Uh, a vampire?' it came out more like an apologetic question than a statement of fact. Sniper shrugged, right hand rubbing the side of his neck self-consciously.

He'd never told anybody that. Never needed to. Never really had the chance. It felt so odd admitting it now, and to the BLU Spy of all people.

"Somehow, I believe you." Spy put a hand over his neck where Sniper had bitten him, thoughtlessly. "What exactly does that mean? The stories can't be true or you'd be," Spy briefly considered his words, "less awkward."

Sniper crossed his arms over and huffed. Awkward? Him? Well, yes, but he'd hoped he was the only person who thought that of himself. He didn't like having it confirmed otherwise.

'Depends which stories you mean. I'm pretty sure burning up in direct sunlight, being allergic to garlic, being afraid of crosses and having no reflection would all make life much more awkward.' That last one especially. It'd make it so much harder to shave.

Spy frowned, thoughtfully.

"You need to drink blood?" Maybe it was something he could live without. Maybe it was just a temptation. But Spy remembered how ill Sniper had looked before he'd bitten him. That couldn't be coincidence.

'Yeah, I do,' Sniper said. 'Animal blood helps tide me over a bit but you probably worked that out from all the hunting I do.' The Spy had been spying on him a lot of the time, after all. 'I need human blood to survive though,' Sniper admitted. He felt like some kind of weirdo saying it though. Kind of pretentious, almost. A tortured soul and all that.

"Alright," Spy fidgeted a little, studying Sniper's face. "Your teeth ah, they changed?" They didn't seem sharp enough to really penetrate skin as they were.

Spy was still on edge, being in the enemy's camper, but was starting to notice other details now. Sniper's place was tidier. No blood, no smell of blood even. It was still a bit rough of course, but clean. Sniper had tidied up for him.

'Well, yeah. Everyone would notice if I was walking around with bloody great fangs coming out of my mouth! They're kind of...' he poked at his gums, 'they're kind of up here, and then there's a couple more that come up through here,' he added, tapping against his lower jaw. 'And they only come through when I need them. Feels really weird, to be honest.'

"Of course," Spy frowned again. "And you took care of me after. Why?"

'Umm,' Sniper said, mind blank. It was a good question. 'Well...' Sniper tried to work it out for himself. 'You seemed...upset,' was the best answer he could give at the moment. There was also the fact he'd never been in that situation before and had gone on autopilot. But he wasn't going to tell the Spy that he'd lost the vampire equivalent of his virginity to him. Things were awkward enough as they were.

'Just didn't think it was polite to just toss you out or kill you after that.'

"What do you usually do with the people you ...bite?" Spy asked shrewdly. The way he answered that led Spy again to the thought that Sniper did not generally bite people.

'I don't usually bite people,' Sniper said, dodging around the question. 'Usually I just fudge Medic's orders for the month and add in some extra blood he'll never know he's missing.'

"None of your teammates offered up their necks?" Spy said wryly. "Do they know what you are?"

Sniper laughed. 'Of course they don't! Don't you think Medic would have me tied down to a gurney and cut open if he knew?' He regretted saying that as soon as it had come out. He didn't want to give the Spy any ideas for blackmail. The thought made Sniper feel even colder than he already was.

'Look, I'm just some guy, right? I've just got a... medical condition. It's my problem, not anyone else's and it doesn't affect my work so it doesn't matter.' A lie. A weak lie.

So he was the only one here who knew. Maybe the only one anywhere that knew what Sniper was. Still, Spy had to admit that Sniper's conclusion was the one he was coming to as well. Sniper was very human, except for his diet and his teeth. And-

Spy swallowed hard, remembering the high again. "And the ...the effects? Of your bite?" It made him tingle just to think about it.

Sniper shrugged again. 'You'd know better than me, I've never bitten anyone before so-'

Oops.

Shit.

Fuck.

Too late, he'd gone and said it without thinking. Best to plough on.

'Well, you see, the chemical compounds in a vampire's venom varies from individual to individual, so the effects vary as well. Looks like mine effect muscle usage in some way, judging by how...uh, floppy you went. I didn't actually know that would happen. Sorry.'

Of course, Spy thought, he would be a virgin. That explained a lot. He watched Sniper wince as though he hadn’t meant to spill that secret. What a terrible Spy he’d be. What a terrible vampire he was.

The way he talked about the venom was as if he’d read it in a textbook and memorized it. He really hadn’t ever seen the effects of his own bite before and Spy felt odd about that. And yes, he could definitely agree that it had affected his muscles. Being completely powerless like that had been the most terrifying part of their encounter, but the glowing high he’d gotten was a big part of the reason he was even here, on Sniper’s skinny mattress, trying to talk to the enemy about vampirism.

And he apologized, too. Absolutely ridiculous.

The next question he had made Spy feel a bit silly for asking, but he had to be sure. “And… I won’t turn into a vampire?”

'Nope! No! Thank God, I've got enough to be dealing with without having to babysit a fledgling. I'm only about ten—in vamp years I mean—so my venom isn't potent enough to kick start the change. It's a very difficult process, actually. It takes four or five mature vamps to turn a person successfully, and it's got to be done just right or you die instead.

‘If anyone could turn someone with a single dose of venom, there'd be vampires everywhere by now! Either that, or we'd have to kill every human we bit to stop it from spreading like wildfire.'

Sniper paused then, remembering that unlike most vampires, he was someone who had been expected to need to kill anyone he bit. It was one of the reasons he'd always been so against biting people.

He'd kill people he was paid to, not because he was hungry.

Spy nodded. Sniper was new at this, like he'd expected. "Why did you bite me?" He held up a gloved hand. "I know, I was trying to kill you and in your ...home, but you've never bitten anyone else before."

'Because, uh...' Sniper ran his hands through his hair again. It was a pity he always took his hat off when he was in the van (to stop him accidentally hitting his head on cabinets because he couldn't see them), else he could have dragged it over his face so he didn't have to look at the Spy.

'Well, because I was starving. And I don't mean ah, “Hmm, I'm feeling a bit peckish, I might grab something to eat,” I mean that I was genuinely starving. My usual supply of, well you know, ran out. I was in a pretty bad state when you saw me actually. Couldn't even keep water down by that point. I have no idea what happens with respawn if you die of starvation, but I'm pretty sure I was close to finding out.'

Sniper was giving away much more than he should do to the Spy, but he'd been dying, properly dying, and no one had known. They'd had no idea. It had been bothering him ever since, and now this opportunity to make someone understand what had occurred, he couldn't help himself from spilling all.

'Then you... then you broke into my van, into my home. I was delirious at that point to be honest, not really sure what was real and what was just a dream. But then you went for me. Even though— even though I was no danger to you. Even though this was my home, even though you had no right to be there, even though I was sick and dying!'

Sniper's anger grew as he recalled what had happened out loud. In his anger, his gangly awkwardness seemed to leave him, his voice going low and threatening.

'And I knew that if you killed me, I wouldn't have the strength to drag myself back from respawn to my camper. So I had to fight back. Had to defend myself in the only way I had left to me. You have no one but yourself to blame for what happened.'

Sniper might have felt guilt over it, but he knew exactly where the true blame lied.

Spy shrunk back as Sniper's anger grew. He was right, of course, Spy knew, but that didn't take away the fear and horror of the whole attack. And it didn't change the fact that he'd been the one attacked in the end.

Sniper looked genuinely disturbed about how close he'd been to starvation. Spy could sympathize. If the man's anger wasn't tangible, he might have tried to offer some comfort. Hunger could quickly eat away at someone, sap their energy and patience. It must have been excruciating for Sniper, sitting alone and quiet with his stomach clawing at him, his body eating itself as he waited and could do nothing.

"I didn’t expect you to be home, to be fair." Spy kept his voice soft. He knew what he'd done was despicable. That was part of being a Spy. You couldn't keep much of a moral code if you wanted to be successful.

"I will stop with my traps.”

'Good,' Sniper replied, glad he wouldn't get caught up in any more electric wire. If the Spy kept his word, that was...

"Do you have blood now?"

Sniper's anger slowly cooled down to something wary and skittish, like a wolf that will attack if cornered but run away first if given the opportunity. 'Uh, no,' he admitted carefully, trying not to think about how much his stomach hurt from hunger and how close the Spy was.

‘Why are you here?’ Sniper asked to distract Spy from the weakness he’d just revealed.

It was hard to explain exactly why. How to make it not sound insane. "I was— I had questions." I had to see, I wanted to ... Spy groaned. He wanted to feel that again. It was awful and wonderful. He wasn't sure if he could bring himself to be bitten.

"When do you need blood again?"

Sniper rubbed his hands down his trousers. His hands felt clammy and cold. Slightly shaky too. 'Well, uh. Can't really go more than five days without it, really,' he admitted, leaving Spy to do the maths.

"And you don't get blood until next month?" The thought of starving for a month made Spy's stomach hurt. And the thought of being bitten was much more exciting than it ought to be.

'Yep, nothing until the next round of supplies come through! I couldn’t get hold of any last time and I went and burnt through what I had left faster than I usually do...' Sniper's eyes slid back to the Spy. Sitting there, on his bed.

It was all his fault.

Chapter Text

Spy swallowed hard, breaths coming out in shudders. "If I allowed... that to happen again. Could I trust you to stop if I asked?"

God, he was really doing this, asking an enemy to bite him, attack him. He wasn't sure if it was entirely the selfish desire to feel that high again, or if part of him pitied Sniper for starving. It didn't sit well with him to know anyone was starving here. It wasn't wartime anymore, no matter what the Soldier said. Everyone on both teams should be fed.

'Yes,' Sniper replied simply and honestly. Then what Spy had just suggested caught up with him. He took a deep breath, hands feeling even shakier than before, but from a sudden adrenaline spike this time.

The Spy wanted Sniper to bite him? Or if not exactly wanted him too, would consider permitting it?

'Why?' he asked. 'I mean, last time, you... But it wouldn't be like last time.'

His jaw began to ache.

Spy threw up his hands. "It felt ..." He struggled with words for a while, avoiding Sniper's eyes. "It felt like a rush, a high, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it," he admitted, "I don't know. I remember what it was like to go hungry too." It didn't feel right.

'Oh.'

Sniper had known a guy who'd bragged about having a harem of young women begging for him to bite them because his venom made them feel so good. Somehow, Sniper didn't think the guy would be all that impressed that all he'd managed to do himself was hook in a Frenchman.

It was interesting news though. Sniper had only been aware of the physical effect his venom had, not the mental. Trust a cigarette-addicted Spy to offer his neck up to someone just because it felt good.

There was a weight to the Spy's second reason that Sniper picked up on but was too distracted to dwell on. He could feel his heart beating faster than normal and the pressure on either side of the top of his jaw, indicating venom production. Sniper swallowed, tasting a trace of it in his mouth.

He shifted towards the bed. Towards the Spy.

'I can stop whenever you need me to,' he assured the Spy. 'I'm not a monster.'

He couldn't believe he was going to do this.

It had to be a trap.

The Spy had promised no more of them but Sniper couldn't see how this offer could be genuine; it was just too good to be true.

Sniper inched closer to Spy like a dog closer to a steak. Spy was torn. He wanted to try it again. He was also more afraid than he wanted to admit. Sniper didn’t know what he was doing, or at least, that was what he pretended. It could go wrong. Spy could end up addicted to this. He already thought about it more often than he wanted to. Wouldn’t this just make it worse?

He wanted to try it without the fear and struggle. He wanted to do this willingly, even just once.

And, no one deserved to starve. Even if Sniper wasn’t human, surely it still hurt to be hungry. Spy remembered his pale face, his confused expression, how tired he was, just before the last bite. To show it on his face, he must have been starving for some time. Unable to even keep water down, he’d said.

Fuck, Spy was really doing this. If he didn’t, it would bother him and he’d end up coming back.

Sniper hovered at Spy's side, looking down at him intently.

'Just trying to work out how best to do this,' he said, eyes flickering over the Spy's body for any indications of weapons or traps. He really was trying to work out how best to handle this though.

'Honestly, I'd, uh, recommend taking your shirt off. I know what you spooks are like about your clothes. I'm gonna be as careful as I can but I can't guarantee you won't get blood on your suit.' An awkward request. Possibly one that would be enough to scare the Spy away. Sniper hoped not.

Spy’s heart felt like it was going to pound right out of his chest. It didn’t help that Sniper was so much taller than him. Having someone so close and looking down at him was already a little uncomfortable. Having them be about to bite his neck, with his permission, was just strange.

Taking a steadying breath, Spy undid his suit jacket and shrugged out of it. He took his knife out of the inside pocket with a glance at Sniper. Just in case. He loosened his tie and removed it, then began to unbutton his dress shirt. He had an under-shirt underneath. That could get a little blood on it, and he wouldn’t be naked.

Folding his clothes neatly, he knew he was stalling a little as he set them on Sniper’s counter, suddenly hyper aware of how little Sniper had seen of his skin before this. Still, he had his gloves on, and his mask.

Sniper looked away as Spy took his jacket and shirt off. He wasn't entirely sure why. It wasn't like the Spy was a woman.

Maybe it was because he knew spies liked their privacy, or maybe it was because he didn't want to be caught looking. Sniper found himself disappointed that the Spy had an under-shirt he was keeping on, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

The ache in his jaw was getting worse. He allowed his fangs to come through, wincing at the stab of pain that came with it. It'd be worth it though. A heady rush swept through Sniper at the thought. He was going to bite someone. He should hate himself for wanting to so much, but he couldn't.

'The mask, ' Sniper said. 'You'll have to take it off or at least move the neck bit out of the way. I don't want to be sucking on a damp balaclava.'

When Sniper spoke, Spy could see the fangs, could hear a little bit of a change in his voice as he spoke with them in his mouth. Before tugging up his mask, he put a tentative hand out to the RED’s mouth, silently asking Sniper to show him. Yes, now he was definitely stalling, but he was also damnably curious.

Sniper perched on the edge of his mattress. 'Give me a second,' he said, turning away. 'It's harder to get the bottom ones to come through.' The Spy deserved to know exactly what he was dealing with.

He pressed down on his bottom teeth, thumb pushing against his jaw. Two fangs, shorter and thicker than the top ones, but still sharp, burst through under the added pressure.

Sniper turned back to Spy and bared his teeth.

Spy vividly remembered the burning when Sniper had first bitten him through his mask, then how tightly he’d clamped on after he’d pushed it up. He had to take a moment to compose himself after first seeing them. He’d thought he’d want to touch them, but he felt if he did he might lose his nerve. He wished he’d had a glass or two of wine before coming here.

Vaguely, he wondered if Sniper could get drunk after biting him if he had been drinking.

Spy pulled up his mask, folding it under so it would stay out of the way. He turned his head away from Sniper, letting his enemy take over.

Sniper held his breath without realising it as the Spy neatly tucked the bottom of his mask up out of the way.

He couldn't take his eyes off the Spy's bare neck. And as soon as the Spy tilted his head away, exposing his throat, anticipation and excitement slammed into Sniper like a tidal wave.

He hadn't actually- it was too good to be true- he hadn't thought- was the Spy actually going to let him do this?

He licked his dry lips, the motion more down to nerves than attempted seduction.

Sniper pulled himself further onto the bed so that he settled in behind the Spy but still to his left. He  placed his right arm down on the bed behind the Spy, the mattress dipping as he put his weight on it. He could feel the Spy's body heat when his arm brushed against his back.

There was a slight tremble that ran through Sniper's whole body as slowly he leant in, lips parted.

Spy closed his eyes, taking another slow breath. Sniper was taking his time. That was fine. Spy definitely wasn’t questioning every decision he’d ever made.

Sniper’s weight settled against him. He was cold, trembling. Those two things probably weren’t related in this situation. The tension was palpable and Spy’s leather gloves squeaked as he tightened his hands into fists. He tried to keep relaxed, assuming it would hurt less, but it was nearly impossible. It was somewhere between the excitement of losing one’s virginity and the fear of being hurt.

Sniper could hear the Spy's breathing coming in shallow bursts. He knew his heart must be beating against his chest like a bird in a cage.

Was it from excitement? Or fear?

As soon as the thought occurred to Sniper, he wanted to hurt the Spy.

Sink his fangs in deep, grip the Spy's throat with his free hand and squeeze. Push him down. Hold him down. Make him cry and struggle and writhe and beg while teeth dug at his throat and claws ripped at his body.

Sniper pulled his face away from the Spy's neck again, eyes and jaw closed tight.

No.

No.

He wasn't a monster.

And he never would be.

The hesitation went a moment too long and Spy opened an eye, peeking over at Sniper. He looked upset, his own eyes tightly shut.

Spy couldn’t believe he was the nervous one in this situation, but he had said he was new at it. He turned around on the bed to face Sniper, pulling his mask back down over his neck.

“What’s wrong?”

Sniper's eyes snapped open. The Spy had pulled his mask back down. Regret, loss and hunger slammed into his chest.

He'd ruined it. He'd been so close. So damn close. And he'd gone and ruined it.

'It's nothing! I mean, it's complicated. It's nothing. Please?' There was a needy, pleading tone to the last word that made him wish he could take it back. He was pathetic.

Spy sighed. “I haven’t changed my mind. You seemed like you might have, though.”

'No! No. I'm fine, really.' He aimed for a disarming smile but it probably wasn't the kind of expression that worked with needle-sharp fangs. 'I just needed a moment. I'm fine.'

“Are you nervous?” Spy asked. It would be both nerve-wracking and comforting if the answer was yes. At least he wouldn’t be alone. Though, it wasn’t the safest to trust his neck and possibly his life to someone who was nervous.

A more genuine smile tugged at Sniper's lips. 'Ha! Nervous, me? What gave you that idea?'

Damn was he bad at this whole apex predator business.

Sniper shook his head. 'Really, it's fine. I'm fine.' He leant in a little again, but not too much. With Spy facing him that'd seem far too much like going in for a kiss.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Spy said. He lifted his mask again and shifted closer to Sniper, until they were very nearly pressed against each other. “You’ll stop if I ask.” He wasn’t sure which of them he was reassuring.

'Yep,' Sniper agreed distractedly. The Spy's throat had his full attention. He leant in again and this time brushed his lip against the Spy's neck, searching for a pulse point.

The trick was to bite in such a way that only the very tips of the top fangs pierced the jugular. He knew the theory, but he'd never had a proper go at the practice. Last time didn't count; he'd just bitten whatever he could get at.

He paused.

There, something deep in the back of his mind told him. There.

Chapter Text

Spy’s breath caught as Sniper’s chapped lips brushed over his neck in what felt like a kiss. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. His gloved hands twisted together nervously, but all he could do now was force himself to stay still and wait.

He’d been afraid all he’d be able to think about was last time, especially since they were on Sniper’s bed again, but this time was different. Spy had a modicum of control. His knife was within his reach if he needed it. They’d been talking for long enough that he felt assured that Sniper was as nervous about this as he was.

Hopefully it wouldn’t hurt as much this time, he thought, shutting his eyes tight. He could power through it for that other feeling though, he knew he could. He’d been through worse. He could do it. If Sniper didn’t take too much longer, anyway. He was sure the RED could feel his pulse racing against his lips and he hated how much of his anticipation and fear it surely gave away.

Sniper opened his mouth and sunk his fangs into the Spy's skin. The urge to force them as deep as possible was there, but he resisted. He could taste the Spy's skin against his tongue. That was one of the reasons he'd resisted biting anyone for so long. There just was something so intimate about it. He'd never been good at intimacy.

When there was no sign of a knife in his back in response to the bite, Sniper let venom run through his fangs, the sensation hot and almost tickly. Last time he'd only used a little, and when that hadn't worked, released the rest. This time Sniper used enough that the pressure in his jaw stopped, without emptying all of his venom into the Spy. Hopefully this way the Spy wouldn't end up so... floppy.

Spy hissed a bit at the sting of the fangs piercing his skin. It was a bit like the pinch of a needle. Once Sniper stopped moving it felt less painful and Spy did his best to stay still and quiet.

Soon the tingling sensation turned into something soft and sweet and Spy bit back a little gasp. It had no right to feel so wonderful and intimate. He leant back against Sniper, careful not to jostle the fangs buried in his neck. The tension was resolving into a release and Spy shuddered happily.

Sniper really wasn't sure how things were going for the Spy right now. First there'd been a stifled gasp, then he'd leant closer, but then he'd shuddered as well. That was a real bunch of mixed signals as far as Sniper was concerned. He hadn't tried to escape though, so maybe he was okay.

Sniper carefully pulled his fangs free, trying to do as little damage as possible.

Then he opened his mouth wider and latched onto the Spy's neck again, mouth covered the original two bite marks. He'd meant to just anchor his teeth in lightly but found himself needing to dig them in deeper than intended.

Then the blood washed over his tongue and nothing else mattered anymore.

Spy's fingers clutched at Sniper's shirt. It seemed like it ought to hurt but instead his mind was elsewhere. He was floating, in waves of that golden feeling.

"Nnnn," he groaned, head tipping back. He did feel a little limp but no more so than he would after a satisfying encounter in bed.

Sniper had intended to maintain as little contact with the Spy as possible. Now he found himself leaning in against the Spy as he gulped down blood as though his life depended on it. Which it did, Sniper would have realised if he'd stopped to think about it. But he didn't, too busy revelling in the sensation. Sniper was breathing heavily, struggling to breathe in enough air but refusing to stop what he was doing.

His free hand came to rest on the Spy's side, feeling the Spy's body heat through his under-shirt.

This was a person, Sniper reminded himself.

A human being, not a meal.

He latched on to the thought to help force himself to slow down. He didn't need to stop, not yet, but he shouldn't be so greedy. It was hard to though, with this taste on his tongue, and the way the Spy seemed to be melting back against Sniper. He just felt so warm and alive.

Spy soaked up the feeling of relaxation, of not having any thoughts or worries. It was so rare he could quiet his thoughts, his paranoia, his suspicions. It was worth it just for this, for the ease he felt from that fear that followed him everywhere.

Normally being held by his enemy would have been at the very least uncomfortable, but with that quiet euphoria trickling through him he felt delightfully trusting. He tilted his head against Sniper's shoulder, one hand reaching out to brush against Sniper’s knee.

His heartbeat was in his ears and he was starting to feel cold and a little tingly, like his fingers were going to sleep. It made the afterglow fade a little as he worried he may be losing too much blood. It was strange, he felt more annoyance at losing some of his glow than fear or anger.

"Sniper," he managed, realizing in that odd haze that he was far too weak to get his knife even if he could extricate himself from Sniper's arms.

If the Sniper didn’t keep his world, Spy might not survive this encounter.

Panic and aggression shot through Sniper. No! Mine! A warning growl built up in the back of his throat.

Then conscious thought caught up.

With no small amount of willpower and regret, Sniper eased his teeth free. 'One second,' he said, voice thick from the blood that coated his throat. He leaned back in and licked a broad swathe up the Spy's neck, feeling the prickle of short stubble against his tongue.

Sniper seemed to grumble, but he did release to Spy's relief. He could let go again and allow himself this time to be useless and weak.

Spy found he was not at all horrified by the lick this time. He was glad Sniper was holding him or he'd have fallen to the bed.

He felt as though he should ask something but he couldn't seem to find any words in English. Instead he lolled his head against Sniper, his hands releasing the other man.

Oh, he should thank him. He stopped even though he was starving and offered a meal.

"Merci," he murmured.

'Mmpth,' came Sniper's eloquent reply. It was difficult for him to keep his eyes open. Every time he blinked, another part of the van came into hyper focus. It was amazing, but at the same time, too much. His hand slipped away from the Spy's waist. Now they were both leaning against each other like a couple of sozzled drunks. Sniper chuckled quietly to himself at the thought.

His head was spinning, but it was a good spinning. Tipsy and fuzzy and completely benign. Nothing in the world could bother him now.

He felt warm, Sniper realised. Warm and full and content and actually kind of high, now he thought about it.

"Could we lay down?" Spy asked, after taking several minutes to translate the words into English. His limbs were heavy and he was tired.

He felt as though he'd be dizzy if he stood up and he was glad Sniper was unlikely to kick him out until tomorrow.

'Ahuh,' Sniper thought he'd been about to fall over anyway. He pulled himself away from the Spy unsteadily. He'd let the Spy curl up or stretch out or whatever he wanted and fit into whatever space was left.

Spy grabbed a pillow and lay his head down, waiting for Sniper to join him. He fumbled for his jacket and pulled out his cigarette case. Moving as though underwater, he offered a cigarette to the Sniper, putting his own between his lips.

Everything felt... wonderful. Spy couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so at ease.

'Filthy habit,' Sniper said with a bloody grin, taking the offered cigarette. Instead of lying back on the bed, he propped himself up against one wall of his van, figuring that'd make smoking easier. It wasn't something he'd bothered with in a long while.

"Mmmm,"  Spy said agreeably, lighting his own cigarette with something of a struggle due to his hands still tingling. Passing the lighter to his enemy, he tucked the cigarette case and his unused knife back in his jacket and leaned rather amiably against Sniper.

While Sniper normally felt uncomfortable and nervous when it came to physical contact, this was...nice?

Just two blokes leaning against each other in bed, smoking together while feeling blissfully satisfied. Completely acceptable behaviour. Sniper made sure not to mention it, though the thought amused him.

He rubbed the back of his hand against his chin, wiping away a smear of blood. 'Not so—not so messy... that time,' he said, the words stretching out and slurring together slightly. Sniper couldn't bring himself to be bothered.

“Good," Spy sighed. "And far less painful." He rolled his eyes back up to Sniper with a laugh. "Do you know I had you pegged as queer? You were so intensely interested in me and of course I assumed..." he gave a boneless shrug.

Sniper inhaled in shock, the sudden intake of smoke making him choke. He coughed hard, the cigarette falling out of his mouth. He snatched it back up again as he continued to cough, but there was already a scorch mark left behind on his new sheets.

Sniper had been wrong. Somehow Spy had found the one thing capable of ruining his contented mood.

Chapter Text

'No, it's not—' Sniper broke off to cough some more. 'It's just a vampire thing, not a homo thing! Christ!'

Spy's mouth twisted, his response sarcastic. "Ah, yes, that should have been my first guess. Perhaps there are a lot of you in Australia but I have met far more queer men than vampires." Well, he hadn't known about Sniper to be fair, and he added "That I know of," as an afterthought.

Sniper stuck the cigarette back in his mouth and pulled himself to the edge of the bed. He got up and walked to the tap, fetching a glass from the cabinet above it.

'There's just something about you—dunno what,' Sniper said as he poured a glass of water. 'Maybe it's your blood type or something. Whatever it is, it makes you very appealing to a vampire.'

He didn't say that by “a vampire” he meant, “Specifically, this vampire.”

"I'm not sure how I feel about that," Spy admitted, stretching out across Sniper's bed quite comfortably, as though he owned it. "Do you know any other vampires?"

Sniper seemed flustered about Spy's insinuating that he might be queer, but Spy had grown up in Paris, which wasn't known for being a haven for gay men for nothing. The idea might bother a man from the middle of nowhere, Australia, but Spy saw nothing unusual about it.

It annoyed Sniper to see the Spy accuse him of being gay and then stretch out on his bed in rumpled under-shirt and trousers. It was like he was trying to test his theory, despite having apparently moved the conversation on without a second thought.

'Haven't seen any for years. A clan—really decent people actually—helped me with the change. I stayed with them for a while. They don't usually like fledglings leaving them so soon but they were impressed enough with my progress to allow me to make my own way in the world after a few years. The condition was that I mustn't bite anyone. And I'd been doing so well...'

Even Sniper's annoyance couldn't cut through Spy’s afterglow and he sat up enough to untie his shoes, still struggling against the numbness in his fingers. He frowned at the laces as though they were personally trying to fight with him. It just seemed rude to keep them on in someone's bed. He felt less like he'd need to bolt now; safe enough to undress a little more. And if worst came to worst he could always run barefoot. The sandy ground was pretty forgiving.

"Should I apologize for ruining your progress?" Spy teased. He was the one who'd been bitten after all. Sniper could deal with his own consequences.

Sniper considered the first question. The honest answer was yes. And the Spy had made him break his promise. He wasn't sure how to explain the issues related to that, so he just shrugged.

He put the glass of water down on the counter next to the bed. 'Drink this or you'll get dehydrated. Don't try and gulp it all down at once though.’

Spy took the glass and was surprised at how thirsty he was. He finished it all nearly in one go, even though he hadn't meant to. He gave Sniper a bit of a sheepish shrug.

He kicked his shoes off rather carelessly, unwilling to fight with them anymore. "You're no longer hungry?" he asked. Sniper had stopped for him, after all.

Sniper took the now empty glass off the Spy again without a word and refilled it for him.

'No, I'm not hungry at all.' He hadn't really thought about it until the Spy mentioned it. It was such a relief though not to be starving anymore.

"Good." That way Spy felt like this was of mutual benefit instead of just teasing Sniper's appetite. He drank only a few sips of this glass, able to slow down. He felt exhausted now and leaned back against the pillow. If Sniper was unhappy about him taking over his bed, he could get a bigger bed. A reasonably sized bed meant for adults.

'Do you want an orange?' Sniper asked. He actually had some semi-decent fruit in his van at the moment. Knowing he wouldn't be able to digest food in a few days, he'd made sure to eat healthily to try and help his body survive that little bit longer.

Spy nodded, wrapping an arm around himself. He was colder now, especially since he'd kicked off his shoes. He waited for Sniper to pass it to him, feeling utterly unable to sit up and get it himself.

He'd felt Sniper warm against him earlier. It was odd, as if he had sucked the warmth and energy out of him along with his blood.

Sniper hadn't really expected the Spy to say yes. He'd expected complaints about not being offered caviar and duck liver pâté, or whatever it was spies ate.

He passed the orange over, along with some kitchen towel to put the peeling on. He didn't really feel like having to wash-up any dirty plates right now. Some of the endorphins still lingered, but Sniper felt tired now.

Sniper set about washing any remaining blood off his face while he could still be bothered.

Spy watched him while slowly peeling the orange. He looked about as satisfied as Spy felt. It was oddly pleasing. A strange thought, considering that technically Sniper must be the predator here, and him, the prey.

The orange was good; sweet and juicy. Spy wiped a bit of juice from his chin, piling the peel on the little towel Sniper had given him. It made him feel a little better. It was like any rough (but entertaining and exhausting) night. He'd feel much better if he had water and something sweet.

Sniper brushed his teeth to rid himself of the lingering taste of copper in his mouth.

After that though, he'd ran out of things to do to avoid looking at his bed.

The Spy was still on it. This posed a problem, as Sniper wanted that bed. But there was a Spy on it. Who looked as though he thought he owned the place.

Sniper had no idea how to politely tell someone you've just bitten that you want them to leave now. He wanted some time to himself after all that.

Spy handed the remains of his orange peel to Sniper, watching him fidget about the small camper. Unless Sniper demanded he leave, he was quite happy to stay. He was tired.

"Are you done being awkward?" he asked.

Sniper frowned at him. 'Well there is a BLU Spy on my bed, taking up all the room with his fat arse!'

Spy just laughed, shifting over to leave enough room for Sniper.

"Perhaps if you had a decent sized bed, this wouldn't be a problem," he suggested. He hesitated. Did he really want to spend the night? That would mean sleeping in gloves and mask. Not the most comfortable proposition. But he was bone tired and he just wanted to enjoy the remainder of his high without walking back to his base in the dark.

'And how on earth would I be able to fit a bigger bed in here?' Sniper grumped. The bed was as large as the space allowed. 'At least it's not a single.'

Sniper was faced with his next dilemma. He normally just slept in a pair of boxer shorts, and only because of an incident where Soldier hammered on his door at 4AM for a surprise training session and Sniper had burst out, wielding his kukri but not wearing any clothes. Unfortunately, Soldier had already managed to drag half the team out there with him. Scout still hadn't let him forget that one, but he'd taken precautions against that happening again.

Sniper didn't feel like stripping down too far around the enemy Spy.

Ah, fuck it. It was his bed, he'd sleep in it how he liked.

Sniper dragged his shirt over his head and pulled off his trousers, tossing them in a corner to sort out tomorrow. He sat down on the edge of his bed and pulled his socks off too. They went with the trousers.

Spy couldn't help watching his enemy undress. He was handsome, Spy had to admit, in a leathery sort of way. His back was scarred many times over and Spy could see where some of the wounds had glanced off bone and others had gone deeper. If he had been as high as he was earlier he might have reached out to touch them. He loved scars, they were so different in each person and they gave away so much history. Sniper's were obvious to someone who backstabbed him for a living.

He turned his back to the vampire, allowing that vulnerability in return for Sniper's allowing him to stay. Sniper let him sleep in his camper, so Spy would give him his back and hopefully dissuade that fear that any reasonable man would have spending the night with his enemy.

The last of the high for earlier was trickling away now as Sniper pulled back the covers and got into bed.

What the hell was he doing?

He should be getting rid of the Spy at the very least.

But he was tired.

So tired now.

The thought made Sniper yawn.

The Spy had turned his back on him. Sniper was glad of it.

He couldn't bring himself to sleep with his back to the Spy though. Not when he was such a fan of stabbing it. Sniper settled onto his back, pulling the sheets up. He had no idea how long it was going to take him to fall asleep with an enemy in his bed. Again.

He was warm and full and tired though.

Sniper let his eyes close.

God, things were going to be weird in the morning.

Chapter Text

Spy woke in the middle of the night with a start, surprised to find himself not in his bed, not even on base, with a warm arm over his chest and a body pressed against his back. His heart was racing but he stayed silent. The previous night came back to him in a rush and for an instant he felt that beautiful glow again. He felt his face flush, his skin prickle. He could feel Sniper’s breath against the nape of his neck, his knee pressed up into the back of Spy’s knee, one long arm under the pillow and the other snugly around Spy’s waist.

Sniper had lain next to him last night but they certainly hadn’t been touching. It was hard to resist another warm body in bed. If Spy had wanted to get away, he would have had to wake the other man, but it was hard to want to leave a warm bed for the cool night air. Even if it would mean a far less awkward morning.

There was no battle the next day. It wasn’t as though he needed to rush off. It had been awhile since he’d shared a bed. Spy had missed it more than he’d realized. He’d warmed up since last night and though he still felt muzzy and a little hungover, it was nowhere near as bad as the first time.

His mask had been pulled to the side in the night and he very carefully tugged it back into place, trying not to wake his bedmate. He just knew his hair was going to be a disaster tomorrow. At least no one would see it.

Movement roused Sniper, but not enough to bring him entirely out of his sleep. Half awake, he felt the warmth of another person against his front and sighed contentedly. He didn't often have good dreams. Sniper nuzzled his face in against the warmth and fell back into a deeper sleep, a pleasant scent following him down. It was one he recognised but had always associated with hunger. This time though, it brought him only calm and further sweet dreams.

Spy woke slowly the next morning, his whole body heavy and warm. Sniper was still wrapped around him, the bushman’s nose pressed right in against his neck. Spy was suddenly quite aware of how little they were both wearing and where they officially stood as RED and BLU. This could get complicated. Especially since Spy could think of nothing better than doing this again. Surely Sniper would want to, he thought.

Wouldn’t it be embarrassing if he didn’t? If this was only while he was starving? Spy couldn’t allow himself to get too attached to this. He slid forward slowly, trying to untangle himself from Sniper without waking him.

The warmth from before was leaving him. Sniper grumbled sleepily and wrapped his arms around the Spy, pulling him back in.

Then he woke up fully. And opened his eyes. And realised he was cuddling a BLU Spy.

Sniper stiffened and then tried to very carefully pull himself away. Maybe the Spy was still- shit. Nope. He was awake.

Oh hell.

Oh fuck.

Spy decided against mentioning it, sitting up and rubbing his neck where he’d been bitten. It had closed over completely, leaving only a little dried blood and …ugh, dried saliva. He scrubbed at his neck a little with disgust.

His mask had been twisted again in his sleep and he carefully tugged it down over his neck and made sure to cover any escaping hair. Until he could get to a mirror, that would have to do. He started to dress, feeling certain that Sniper would rather he leave now. It was difficult to pull off aloof and mysterious if he overstepped his welcome and instead got read as clingy and emotional.

'Shit I'm sorry! I didn't—I mean, I hadn't—it was warm—I was asleep!' Sniper spluttered. He could feel heat crawling across his face. He hadn't blushed in a long time and wasn't welcoming it right now. He was a hired killer and a vampire. Neither were supposed to blush.

He was too flustered to think of anything the Spy had done as 'clingy' or 'emotional', though he was glad to see that he seemed ready to leave. And hadn't mentioned waking up to find he'd become the little spoon. Yet.

Spy shrugged. “It was no bother. It’s a small bed, after all.” It had been quite nice, actually, even if they were enemies. “I assume this won’t have an effect on our working relationship?”

Sniper’s face and ears were going remarkably red and Spy managed not to smile. The awkwardness looped back around and became charming at some point, somehow. Spy pulled on his suit jacket and re-knotted his tie.

Wow. The Spy was handling this with a surprising amount of tact. Unless he planned on saving it for blackmail later on... No, he probably would have mocked Sniper over it anyway. Unless... he honestly hadn't minded. It sounded like an unlikely theory to Sniper. This was a garrotte-wielding, trap-setting, backstabbing snake. His kind weren't interested in comfort and affection. And as a mercenary, neither was Sniper. You couldn't afford being soft like that in this game. Still, Sniper felt a pang of regret at the thought.

Seeing the Spy dress while he sat up in bed mostly naked made this seem painfully like the awkward morning after a one night stand. How had things ended up like this?

'Course not,' Sniper said. 'There's no reason for it to. Just: no traps. You promised, remember?'

“I remember,” Spy sighed. The way things were going soon he wouldn’t be using them on anyone. He hadn’t dared try them on the Heavy or Medic. The Engineer’s ire was frightening enough. But at least the RED Pyro wasn’t going to tell anyone if it got tangled in a tripwire, since Spy was fairly certain whatever language the Pyros spoke, no one understood them. And Scout was usually going too fast to know what had hit him. They were the only potential targets he had left.

He stood, making sure he had everything and looked like his usual self before turning to look at Sniper, who was still sitting on his bed, almost  naked. It definitely felt like they had had some sort of one night stand. And even if there was nothing sexual about what they’d done, it had been intimate.

“I don’t want you to starve. If you are, I would rather you come find me.” The previous night had been… something. He wasn’t sure if he’d call it good, but it had been an experience. He found he enjoyed Sniper’s quiet, and his graceless conversation. He was a frank sort of man and Spy could appreciate that, even if it was not the sort of person he was.

Sniper hadn't been expecting that. To come back once had been a surprise. To offer to come back again after how awkward everything had been... Well.

'I could probably survive on... three more...' Sniper wasn't sure what word to use. 'Rounds,' he settled on. 'Four maybe.' Once every four or five days until the new supplies come in.

'Then I'll be fine. Won't need to be a bother anymore.'

Spy nodded. It would be easiest to keep this as professional as possible and remember their place as enemies.

He didn’t feel nearly as hungover as he had the first time. Surely it was partially because Sniper had fussed over him so much afterwards, feeding him and giving him water. Though the lack of a struggle must have helped too. Spy felt that sort of good-natured calm that he often enjoyed after spending the night with someone he fancied.

“I’ll leave it to you, then,” Spy told him, unlocking Sniper’s door and heading out into the cool morning.

'Uh, right. See you,' Sniper said faintly.

Once the Spy left, Sniper slumped back down onto his bed. Last night was going to take a while to process.

Spy spent the remainder of their days off relaxing. He dreamt of that wonderful high again and again, but not only that, of Sniper. His lips on his neck, his body pressed up against his back, their shared warmth upon waking. It was a difficult feeling to shake and he found his mind drifting to it often when he tried to read.

Spy could only blame this on the venom’s influence. Yes, it had been a long time since he’d had such an intimate connection with someone. And though there was nothing wrong with wanting a bedmate, or something casual, there was something dangerous about wanting to see his enemy again. He wanted to submit and become helpless to someone who was being paid to kill him. Maybe the danger was what attracted him to this situation in the first place? No, it had to be more than that, or he would have seduced someone less socially stunted. Someone who might not get upset when it was suggested he had an interest in men.

If Spy had more cigarettes and glasses of brandy than he usually did over a weekend, he could hardly be blamed for that.

As he prepared for Monday’s battle, Spy considered his traps. He knew a sure-fire way to get Pyro, he thought, the monster would immediately follow him if it spotted him. He just had to lay the trap in such a way that the mumbling monstrosity would run into it and Spy could avoid it. That wouldn’t be too hard. The dark-tinted lenses couldn’t allow much in the way of peripheral vision. He planned his trap carefully, occupying himself with thoughts of work instead of Sniper.

Chapter Text

By Monday morning, Sniper still felt great. It seemed that a second dose of blood had helped him recover from his initial starvation and he wasn't feeling hungry again yet. In fact, he didn't even feel the need to have any animal blood over the weekend, which had been a first for him. Sniper had been able to push how long he could go without any human blood before, but he'd always needed something else each day to help him survive.

Maybe this was how vampires were actually supposed to survive.

He whistled quietly to himself as he waited for Monday's match to start. Then he picked up on another sound. He turned to find Pyro standing near him, making muffled humming noises in a rough approximation of the tune he'd been whistling.

He stopped, but Pyro's mumbling hum continued.

They were an odd duck, Pyro. Could easily be as inhuman as Sniper underneath that suit. More so, in fact.

'Looking forward to the match, Pyro?' Sniper asked.

You could never be sure of a response from Pyro, but this time they turned their blank lenses towards Sniper and nodded, their humming warbling on happily.

Very odd bloke indeed, that Pyro. If they were a bloke at all...

Spy ran when the match started, taking off towards the narrow alley between two half collapsed buildings that he'd identified as perfect for his trap. He dug up a small hole and laid down a series of large tacks with rifle shells carefully placed on top, pointed up. If someone stepped on them, their weight would push the shell onto the pin and cause it to explode under their feet. As soon as he was ready, Spy camouflaged his trap and left a small sign for himself. He headed off to find Pyro and see if he could lure it in.

Sniper tipped his hat in farewell to the Pyro as the gates opened and the team spilled out onto the battlefield. He headed off towards one of his favourite roosts, while the Pyro headed off to do whatever it was that Pyros do. Most likely burn down everything and check in on Engineer in between bouts.

Sniper was right, that's exactly what Pyro was planning on. They had the most importantest mission of everyone in their family. It was their job to paint everything in rainbows to keep the family that lived on the other side of the field happy. When they weren't happy, it made Engie unhappy because they would break his toys. The smokey man was the worst when it came to breaking Engie's toys, so it was most important to keep him the happiest of all.

Spy spotted Sniper and waited for him to pass, not willing to risk getting caught by Pyro too early. As soon as he saw the firebug, he took aim with his revolver and shot at the flamethrower. He missed, but he got the monster's attention and fled towards his trap with a smirk.

Ahah! There was the smokey man, already being his naughty self! Pyro had to go cheer him up right now before he upset Engie.

They set off in pursuit of the Spy, eager to catch up with him.

Spy ran as fast as he could, quickly getting to the little alley, making sure he was still being followed before squirming through.

Really this trap ought to incapacitate the pyro and leave him injured enough not to continue but not hurt enough to respawn. It would be agony, but Spy barely saw Pyro as human. He didn't feel remorse about this trick.

There! There! Smoky man! Catch him!

Pyro loved playing hide and seek with the smoky man but they liked playing tag even more. They were always it but they preferred that because running with someone chasing after you can be scary.

They were almost in range when-

Something seemed to crunch under their boot. Pyro didn't have time to think what it might mean before they went ow.

OW.

Big ow.

BIG OW.

Their momentum carried them forward to fall flat on their face, breaking a lens. They stared out at the fractured world, the wind completely knocked out of them by the fall.

Pyro didn't often register pain, too caught up in the games they were playing. This time though, it had been all so sudden and sharp. This time the game was ruined. This time they had the chance to pull themselves over and look at their leg and see that there was just a bit missing.

Pyro stared blankly at it for a moment.

Then like a small child who's only just realised they were hurt, Pyro burst into tears. Great noisy tears that could be heard through their mask and sobs that shook their shoulders.

'Medypth!' they gasped between sobs, 'Medipth!'

Ugh, it was crying. Spy did feel a pang of guilt, but still stepped in and disarmed the Pyro, grabbing it by the suspenders and dragging it further into the alley, leaving a trail of blood and deep furrows in the dirt.

The Pyro was very heavy and Spy was glad he didn't have to drag it far. He knew it would die of blood loss eventually but it should take some time. Hooking the monstrosity's suspenders over a broken board, he hoped that would help keep Pyro from crawling back out.

"Stay down," he told the bleeding, blubbering thing, heading back to the main battle with a spring in his step. His trap had worked and he was pleased.

Inside the Pyro's mask, their face was damp with tears.

They didn't like the smoky man. They didn't like him at all. He was horrible.

'Medipth,' they whispered, voice hoarse from crying. 'Medipth?'

Medic staggered around the corner. His arm was scorched, his glasses missing and his sawbone bloody.

He collapsed down next to Pyro, panting. 'Heard. You. Calling,' he said between breaths. 'Came. As soon. As I. Could.'

Whenever a teammates asked him how he did that; how he managed to hear them calling even from the other side of the field or even when they could only whisper it, Medic had no answer for them. It was just as though he felt the call pulling him off towards the teammate in distress.

'Don't worry, Pyro. You'll be fine,' he said, aiming the medigun at them.

Medic wasn't sure what had gone on here but someone had clearly tried to incapacitate Pyro instead of killing them. To be extra cruel or to keep them out of the way? Whichever it was, Medic suspected it was the BLU Spy's handiwork.

Spy headed up towards where he suspected Sniper would be. Had to keep things professional, which meant a knife in the vampire's back. He was still celebrating his victory over Pyro. Once he'd taken care of Sniper, he was going to murder Engineer and disable all his toys. This was already turning out to be a good day.

'Come on, come on,' Sniper muttered to himself, waiting for the BLU Demoman trying to set up a sticky bomb trap to stick his head back around the corner. He was far too focused in on his target to notice the approaching danger.

Sniper was silhouetted against the window and Spy watched him silently for a moment. It was odd, what they had, but Spy found he enjoyed it and wanted to continue it. For now. Sniper wouldn’t need it for too long. And they had no idea what kind of effects the venom might have, really. It was all just guesswork. It wasn’t something they should mess with for long. Just while Sniper was starving.

Not that Spy was particularly soft, he had no problem with his enemies suffering, especially seeing as he’d left Pyro bleeding in the dirt, but even the thought of starvation upset him. That wasn’t softness. It was just… it was a trigger, that was all. It bothered him.

He pushed his thoughts of their night together away and stepped silently towards the RED.

Spy was surprised at how easy it was for him to force his knife in between Sniper’s ribs. He’d been expecting more of an emotional reaction from himself, but this was just such a part of their lives here and in some ways death didn’t seem as real as it used to. He cleaned his knife calmly, flicked it away and watched Sniper’s body disappear.

Heading back downstairs, Spy smiled. Now on to Engineer.

It had happened hundreds of times before. You're happily sniping away and then suddenly-slam! Knife in your back! Even the quickest deaths by backstab usually left enough time for shock and panic to kick in, just before respawn whisked you away.

Sniper respawned. And even though it had happened all those times before, this was different. There was the usual jolting shock from a quick, unexpected death, but there was something else as well.

It took Sniper a moment to work out that he felt betrayed.

It was stupid. This was what they'd agreed; to go back to fighting each other like normal. But Sniper hadn't realised really that that's exactly what he'd been agreeing to.

Back to knives in the spine and ribs. Back to headshots. Back to normal.

When the initial surprise wore off though, anger grew in its place.

'Sneaky little bastard,' he muttered to himself. 'I'll have 'im for that!'

Out on the battle, Engineer upgraded his teleporter to level three and turned his back on it to build up his dispenser. He whistled happily to himself as he worked.

Spy slipped in with his sapper ready, taking out the teleporter. It was unfortunate that he wasn’t allowed to play with the technology of the sappers. He was sure with the help of his Engineer they could make one that would be silent and not immediately warn the enemy about them. But that was likely the point, somehow. This was all an elaborate game and what fun was it if it was too easy?

Invisible, waiting for Engineer to turn around, Spy kept his knife at the ready.

The Engineer continued to whistle to himself, apparently oblivious to the sound of his teleporter being sapped over the ringing of his wrench against the dispenser. Behind his goggles though, the Engineer's eyes were narrowed.

Hm, Spy was sure he’d notice that. Apparently not. Ah well, Spy could easily take advantage of his attention being elsewhere.

He stepped in close, flipping his knife out and aiming for the Engineer’s spine, just above his overalls. It was tough enough to stab someone, without stabbing through a pair of overalls.

Engineer ducked down into a crouch as quickly as he could.

That's when Pyro leapt up from their hiding place behind the dispenser, a great gout of flame bursting from the end of the flamethrower and billowing over the top of the engineer's hard hat.

'Bad smoky man!' they cried, though it was unlikely the Spy would have been able to understand them even if there wasn't a stream of fire shooting towards him.

Spy hated dying in fire. It was the most painful way to go. He could hear his skin crackle and pop, smell himself burning… it was a nightmare every single time.

Once in respawn, Spy groaned. Pyro was back; that had been quick. And it seemed especially angry. It was likely that it’d be sticking close to Engineer for the rest of the battle.

Spy sighed. He’d have to target Sniper instead, unless he wanted to burn to death multiple times today.

'Good one, Py,' Engineer said as he turned his back on the BLU Spy's smoking corpse.

'Huddah, huddah!' Pyro said happily, the incident from earlier already nothing but a faint twinge of distress in the back of their mind. Engineer wouldn't forget so easily what Medic had told him though, and he certainly wouldn't forgive.

He unhooked two tiny sensors he'd hidden under the straps on the back of his overalls. When anything moved too close to him, they made a wireless device in his pocket buzz. It was an idea he'd been toying with for a while but hadn't used on the battlefield until now because he knew it would be cheating. But the BLU Spy liked playing dirty, so he had no problem stooping to the snake's level if it was the only way to get one over on him.

Spy headed back up towards Sniper. It took him a few tries to find the right nest. He waited until he was sure the Sniper was distracted with his target, then stepped in and slit his throat.

Though they had agreed to be professional, Spy no longer wanted Sniper’s deaths to last longer than they had to. Perhaps that was more professional than he had been before. But that sort of underhanded work was meant for spies after all. It was hard not to take any advantage he could get.

That. Fucker. That little fucking bastard. That fucking asshole. Again!

Sniper would have thought his heightened senses would mean the Spy could never get the drop on him. However, three things got in the way of that.

One: The effects of the fresh blood were already starting to wane.

Two: He still got horrible tunnel vision when concentrating on a kill and missed clues that would have told him he was being approached

Three: The BLU Spy was a super sneaky little snake.

Sniper shook his head in disgust at the whole situation and headed back out again. He was trying to stop himself from getting too angry. The Spy was just doing his job.

It was just that the fucker was too good at it, that was all.

Spy scoped out the Engineer's nest carefully but couldn't get close without tipping off the Texan somehow. He wasn't sure what was giving him away but after another death and a near miss where he barely escaped alive and didn't escape with his dignity, Spy turned his concentration to Sniper. He'd gotten him twice already, why not go for more?

Spy caught sight of Sniper heading up to a good vantage spot and cloaked to follow him, knife at the ready.

Sniper was more paranoid now. He'd died twice to the Spy in a short space of time and didn't want it to happen again.

That didn't stop him from waking up a third time with a tingling sensation at the top of his spine.

'Dammit!' Sniper snapped. Demoman, who'd been raiding the supply cupboard, jumped at the sound.

'Nasty death, mate?' he said sympathetically while trying to exchange his empty bottle of scrumpy for a fresh one without Sniper noticing. He didn't know who he could trust to keep things a secret when Medic was on the warpath over his alcohol 'problem' again.

'Nah,' Sniper admitted. 'Just an annoying one. I'll catch him though, don't you worry!'

He didn't though, not once that whole match. The next day he managed to get a couple of good headshots on the BLU Spy, but that didn't stop his enemy from sneaking up and killing him another five times.

By the fifth day after Sniper bit Spy, he was beyond angry. And starving.

Chapter Text

Spy started to avoid Pyro and Engineer like the plague. Engineer knew where he was somehow, always. It was horribly disconcerting. It only took a few deaths to convince him to focus on the rest of the team, mainly Sniper.

He paused in the doorway to watch Sniper aim, trying to be sure he was focused in on his target. That was Spy's best advantage when it came to Sniper.

Knife in hand, he crept forwards towards the RED's unprotected back.

Sniper had had hardly any sleep that night, his night consumed with hunger and thirst and thoughts of the BLU Spy. The same scenes played over in his head again and again as his empty stomach twisted itself up in knots. Wrenching the Spy's head back and sinking teeth into his throat. Again and again and again.

Along with the hunger taking a day or so longer to really kick in than it had last time, Sniper's ability to sense where the Spy was had taken longer to return.

By the start of the match though, Sniper had been able to feel that little tug pulling him towards the Spy again. He'd set himself up in a convenient nest for the Spy to find him, and then waited and waited. Sniper was a hunter. He could be patient.

Finally the Spy appeared. Sniper kept his eyes fixed on his scope and waited and waited and-

Now!

With a snarl, Sniper swung around, and slammed the barrel of his rifle into the Spy's knife hand as hard as possible.

Spy had been so sure Sniper hadn't noticed him. When the taller man whirled and lashed out with the butt of his rifle, it cracked over Spy's knuckles. Something snapped and Spy fell to his knees, cradling his hand to his chest. His prosthetics were digging into his skin fiercely; they'd been broken around what remained of his fingers.

He'd been unable to drop the knife, his two smallest fingers were now effectively locked around it. He bit back a whimper. Hopefully Sniper would send him through respawn quickly so this could be fixed.

Sniper hadn't been expecting the Spy to fall to the ground. He only just managed to stop himself lunging for where the Spy had been a moment ago, which would have only led to his upper-legs connecting with Spy's face. Which would have hurt Spy more than him as long as nothing a little higher bashed into anything, but it would also have probably tripped Sniper up as well.

With a low growl at the thought of how embarrassing that would have been, Sniper grabbed hold of the Spy by his shoulders and threw him backwards onto the floor. He didn't care what he might have done to Spy a moment ago, all he cared about was the Spy was distracted.

Spy was thrown backwards, legs twisted uncomfortably back under himself with a cry of pain. His shoulders hit the floor and then his head cracked against the floorboards. He barely realized he still had his knife, he was so intent on keeping his hand from more harm.

"Sniper!" he cried out, struggling to roll, to right himself, unable to force himself to let go of his own hand. Surely he wasn't going to bite him?

Sniper pushed the Spy back down when he tried to roll over.

Fuck him. Fuck this guy. He had no right to target Sniper again and again and then as soon as the tables were turned, say his name like that. Like someone scared. Like someone betrayed. He had no right.

Hunger and rage and excitement and cruel satisfaction and uncertainty and guilt all mixed in together as Sniper fought to pin the Spy down.

The Spy deserved this, Sniper told himself. He deserved to feel afraid. Deserved to be in pain. Sniper was the hunter here. The Spy was nothing more than prey.

'I'm gonna rip your fucking throat out, you backstabbing little bastard!' he snarled in the Spy's ear.

Fuck, he was going to bite him. Not only that, but he was angry. He was pissed off… about Spy doing his job? They’d agreed to this. They couldn’t afford their relationship to compromise their work. Spy didn’t want to find out what happened if they betrayed RED or BLU.

Using his uninjured hand, Spy threw it up to put his elbow between himself and Sniper, trying to protect his neck.

“Sniper, this is my job, I am a Spy, I’m supposed to stab you in the back!” he babbled. “Just like you’re supposed to shoot me in the head! Sniper, please!”

Sniper bared his fangs. He could practically taste the blood pumping so hard around the Spy's body. Practically hear it.

He wanted to bite. His stomach rumbled; another reminder of how hungry he was. How much he wanted this. How much he needed it.

But there was a tiny part of him, below the desperation, below the predatory urges, that was looking for an excuse not to.

Not because he didn't want to, but because the Spy didn't.

That skinny little bastard really was scared. Bastard.

'Twelve kills in one day though? That's not just doing your job, that's going out of your way to antagonise me! You don't just go yanking at a tiger's tail and expect you won't get bitten!'

"Do you want someone to see you bite me?" Spy tried another route. At least Sniper was talking. "Yes, I was targeting you. Engineer and Pyro have been impossible to approach so you were my next target! It just made sense for my team!"

The pain of his prosthetics was making it hard to talk and he had to drop his defensive elbow to try and pull them off without removing his glove. It was agonizing, he was sure he'd have blood blisters if he didn't respawn.

Why did the Spy have to talk so sensibly? Why did he have to be so reasonable about this?

If he'd been his usual mocking, sarcastic self, Sniper could have bitten him.

But not now. Not like this when he was squirming in pain while trying to explain himself.

Sniper let out a huff of annoyance against the Spy's neck. 'You had better come to my van tonight or we are going to have problems.'

Spy bristled at being threatened into something he’d already offered freely, but nodded, even though his expression was unimpressed. Sniper’s breath rushed over his neck and Spy shuddered. He was still completely trapped under him.

“Either get off me or kill me,” he said. Pulling at the prosthetics only seemed to make things worse and he didn’t have the strength to force himself to free his trapped fingers anymore. He cradled his injured hand and waited for Sniper to make his move.

He should kill the Spy. Even the field a little bit. He'd never been keen on unprofessional kills though. He had no weapon within reaching distance. If he tried to kill the Spy right now, it would be with his bare hands. Nothing professional about that.

And if he was able to get to his knife or gun before the Spy escaped...there'd be blood.

Sniper went to pull himself away, only to glance down at the Spy's injured hand as he did.

Sniper froze.

The Spy was bleeding. Even with a glove hiding the injury, Sniper knew

Spy hissed in a breath as Sniper’s eyes settled on his hand. He hated doing this, especially since he was in such a vulnerable position underneath Sniper, but he needed to act, he needed to get free.

He arched up enough to get some traction and headbutted Sniper in the face, aiming for the nose. If he could distract him enough to roll him off, Spy could slip out and run.

Pain snapped Sniper out of his daze. He let out a cry and reached up a hand to cup his nose. It didn't feel broken, but when he moved his hand away, there was blood. He'd closed his eyes from the pain but when they snapped open again, the pupils had shrunk to pinpricks. He draw back his lips and snarled at the Spy. There was something about the sound that was more animal than human.

Spy tried to get out from under Sniper but couldn’t manage it. Sniper was bleeding onto him. Spy might not have broken his nose, but it must have hurt.

The expression on the vampire’s face made the blood drain from Spy’s face. There was something horribly inhuman about it, fangs bared, eyes predatory. This was going to hurt, but Spy had no better options. He twisted his injured hand up between them and forced the knife that was stuck under his prosthetic fingers into his enemy’s gut. He was panting, teeth gritted as he pushed the knife as deep as he could, his fingers screaming at him with the added pressure.

Sniper made a shuddering, garbled little noise. His shoulders shook, arms trembling as he tried to fight off the fresh wave of pain. He blinked rapidly, mouth pulled into an 'o' of pain. His fangs were still visible but his pupils had returned to normal.

With a hoarse groan he pushed himself away from the Spy and collapsed onto his back on the floor next to him.

Sniper reached for the bloody knife handle, his hand clenching and unclenching next to it but not daring to touch it.

'Bastard bastard bastard bastard!' he chanted under his breath, anger bleeding into pain and desperation.

Spy stood up and bolted, still clutching his hand to his chest. He collapsed once he was outside and around the corner, chest heaving.

'Come back here, you fucker!' Sniper said. He'd been aiming to shout, but it hurt too much to try.

'Bastard,' Sniper muttered again, eyes screwed up tired, breathing shaky. 'Bastard.' Least the Spy could have done was finish him off. This was going to be a long, painful death. If there'd be any blood in his flask, Sniper could have been able to heal from this. But without it he was as good as human. As bad as human.

He smeared his hand through the blood welling up under the the wound. In desperation, he bit into his hand, tasting blood on his tongue. But it wasn't right. It wouldn't work. He couldn't bring himself to pull his teeth back out though.

This was going to take a long time. He'd take whatever comfort he could get.

Spy made his way to the dispenser to let himself heal, feeling very unsettled by his earlier encounter. Sniper hadn’t seemed like a person this time, as he usually did. He’d looked… like an animal. Spy wasn’t sure he wanted to see him tonight. Even with the threat he’d been given. Maybe especially because of the threat?

Sniper had let Spy get under his skin with the backstabs, that must have been it. And yes, that sort of death was annoying, but that was Spy’s job.

The dispenser, unfortunately, could not unbend his prosthetics. Spy had to steal away into a warehouse and remove the glove to take them off, storing them in his jacket pocket before heading back to the dispenser. He was going to have to struggle until he went through respawn.

Taking another knife from the dispenser, Spy breathed out a huff of annoyance. This was the second knife he’d lost to Sniper.

Common sense slowly filtered through pain and shock. Sniper finally pulled his fangs free of his hand with a hiss of discomfort.

'Medic?' he called, his voice hoarse. He swallowed hard. 'Medic!' Sniper dragged himself back towards the window he'd been sniping out of. 'Medic!'

A couple of minutes later, Medic staggered up the stairs.

'Ah, Herr Sniper. A stab wound. Yes. Right, let's get you sorted out.' He was breathless and didn't seem to be be able to concentrate properly, but he could still heal. Typical mid-match Medic.

'Thanks, doc,' Sniper said as relief and medigun fumes swept over him. ‘You’re a lifesaver. Literally!’ He made sure to move his mouth as little as possible though as his fangs hadn't retracted yet. Now was not the time to be caught out on the whole vampire thing.

That evening, Sniper sat on the edge of his freshly made bed and waited. And waited. He didn't dare leave his van just in case the Spy chose that moment to arrive. He didn't dare give up on the Spy and drive into town for the same reason.

Because the Spy would be here soon, wouldn't he? Sniper should have arranged a time.

He shouldn't have made it sound like a threat. He shouldn't have gone for the Spy (even if the Spy had deserved it.) He shouldn't have pinned him down and freaked him out like that. He shouldn't have done... whatever it was he'd done when he'd realised the Spy's hand was bleeding.

Sniper still hadn't got his head around that one himself. It had been weird. Worrying.

But the Spy had agreed to come back, hadn't he? And he knew Sniper needed him.

Sniper pushed idly at the handle of one of the daggers laid out on his counter. The Spy had to come back for these, right?

Spy paced outside his base, smoking cigarette after cigarette. His stomach was a knot. He’d been arguing back and forth with himself about his agreed meeting with Sniper.

Yes, Sniper had terrified him, and seemed intent on feeding on him without his permission. He’d threatened him. But he was starving. Could Spy understand that? He’d offered to feed Sniper, he didn’t need to be threatened for it. He was afraid the man might still be holding a grudge, especially after Spy had stabbed him and left him to bleed out.

He could have finished him off afterwards, but truthfully Spy hadn’t even thought about it until after he’d gotten to the dispenser. But if he didn’t do this, would Sniper get worse? Would he start targeting Spy?

There was no way to know for sure, but Spy certainly felt less like spending a comfortable night in the arms of the RED Sniper.

“Merde,” he sighed, dropping his cigarette and stubbing it out. He’d thought he’d made some sort of ally there, but apparently he hadn’t. Spy headed back inside to his room. Sniper could try again in a less horrifying way and maybe Spy could see his way to going back to his camper.

The evening drew on. Sniper's hope waned. He kept going over and over what he was going to say when—if, the Spy appeared. He wasn't sure if he could bring himself to apologise, not after all that targeting but he'd certainly seek to appease things between them. If he got the chance.

Sniper spun one of the balisongs around his hand. The Spy wasn't the only one who could do fancy knife tricks. Sniper was too hungry and tired to concentrate properly though and kept dropping the knife.

He didn't dare go to bed though. What if the Spy came by and he was sleeping? He'd barely got any sleep at all last night, but it looked as though it was going to be even worse tonight.

And if today had been bad, tomorrow was going to be a thousand times worse.

Sniper set the knife down with a clatter and curled up in a tight ball on his side, trying to find a way to squash the pain in his stomach. He was starving and tired and utterly miserable. And he had no one to blame but himself.

Spy had terrible nightmares that night. He was starving, something ominous was following him and there was blood on his hands.

He woke early and couldn't get back to sleep. He wasn't sure if he ought to avoid or approach Sniper.

Chapter Text

Sniper awoke the next morning, feeling shaky and groggy. He'd dozed on and off all night, huddled up in his blankets. He'd kept thinking he'd heard a knock at the door over and over. But there was never anyone there.

Sniper dragged himself out of bed with a groan and pulled himself over to the sink. A sink wash was going to have to do today; he didn't have the energy to spare for showering. He glanced at his tired reflection, circles like bruises under his eyes. He was too pale and needed a shave. But he didn't have the energy for that either.

Today was going to be hell.

A thought occurred to Sniper. What if the Spy not turning up last night meant he wasn't going to come back ever again? Fear and desperation gripped him. He was pathetic, he knew. An apex predator starving while surrounded by prey. But even if Sniper had been as angry as yesterday, he wouldn't have the strength today to take anything from the Spy that wasn't willingly offered.

At the start of battle, Spy decided to make himself a nuisance to Engineer again for a time. It didn’t work out for him. Several different strategies all ended with the same trip through respawn, either at the end of Engineer’s shotgun or grabbed by that massive gloved hand and put out of his misery with the oversized wrench the labourer carried. Miserable and still unable to shake off the unease of his nightmare, Spy decided to stalk the enemy Medic for a while instead.

While he did manage to get in a kill, the Heavy made it nearly impossible to escape and Spy ended up bolting into the nearest building to hide while the giant of a man looked for him.

Sniper almost dropped his rifle out of shock when the Spy burst into the room. Not that he'd managed to do anything useful with it yet. For some reason, his gun felt so much heavier than normal and he was struggling to hold it, let alone hold it steady. So far Sniper had only managed a single body shot on the enemy Pyro and that was it.

He hadn't felt up to climbing the stairs to his usual sniping spot in this building either. That meant that when the Spy came charging in, he almost crashed straight into Sniper, clearly not expecting him to be there.

Spy didn't manage to catch himself before he fell, clutching at Sniper's shirt in an attempt to keep from tripping to the floor.

"Merde!" he pushed himself off Sniper's chest.

Sniper almost went down under the Spy's weight. He flinched away as the Spy released him, remembering the knife to his gut from the day before. He pulled himself to his full height, trying to hide how exhausted he was. Sniper knew from experience how the Spy would take advantage of any sign of weakness.

Spy cloaked on instinct, fumbling for a moment before he disappeared.

He looked Sniper over. The bags under his eyes, the pale gauntness of his face, the sweat on his brow, those details did not escape Spy. Sniper looked awful. He didn't want to feel responsible for Sniper's wellbeing.

'Fuck!' Sniper said. Where had that fucker gone? Sniper swept around, searching for any sign of the Spy. He was unsteady on his feet, the movement almost making him fall over. Belatedly he grabbed for his kukri, and after two attempts, managed to pull it free of its sheath.

He bared his teeth in a snarl but it just made him look scared and desperate.

Spy hardly moved, he only stepped back to avoid Sniper's kukri.

"I know you're hungry. I agreed to help you, and I want to. But if you threaten me into it, I won't." Spy did his best to throw his voice, to echo it off the walls so Sniper couldn't pin him down.

Sniper flinched again, looking around wildly. If there was one thing worse than a cloaked Spy, it was a talking cloaked Spy. Downright creepy, that was.

'I didn't threaten you!' Sniper said, annoyance flaring up. ''Least, I didn't mean to... You didn't come last night.' He hated how needy his voice had gone but he couldn't help it.

"You didn't seem all that friendly," Spy retorted. "Why would I go if you want to hurt me?"

'I wasn't going to hurt you! I mean, you saw that right?' Yes, he'd said he was going to rip the Spy's throat out, but he hadn't actually done that. And yes, he'd knocked the knife out of the Spy's hand, but only in self defence. When push came to shove, he hadn't actually done it, hadn't bitten the Spy. And he'd been intending to leave the Spy alive until things went a bit...funny. And then the Spy had gone and stabbed him for no reason at all.

Spy had been afraid of Sniper in an entirely different way yesterday. The pain in his hand certainly hadn't helped. And he'd been desperate to keep his prosthetics a secret too. He'd only acted defensively, he assured himself.

Spy moved closer to the door. "I might have respawn, but I don't want to suffer. Surely you can understand that."

Sniper huffed in annoyance, and then his shoulders slumped. 'Yeah, I understand that.' Respawn had only been a minor comfort when he'd been bleeding out from that horrible stab wound to the gut yesterday. He understood perfectly.

'Tonight?' he asked, his hesitantly hopeful tone tinted with desperation. 'Won't hurt you at all, promise.'

Spy hesitated, sighing. "Yes, just after eight." It would be dark by then.

The tension lifted from Sniper's shoulders, a brief smile of relief flitting across his face.

'Ah yes, eight. I can do eight. Definitely,' What he meant to say was, 'thank you' but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. Not currently.

Spy turned and left, silently. He'd gotten himself into this. He'd go through with it.

Sniper's expression faded back to one of grim determination once he was sure the Spy was gone. He was still going to have to try and survive the next few hours. But there was an end in sight. A light at the end of the tunnel. He could do this.

Spy took his time walking out to Sniper's camper that evening. He wanted this; the intimacy, the sweet shuddering high of the bite, sleeping with another person. But he didn't want to want it.

Taking a slow breath, he knocked on Sniper's door. He should do this and leave. He should resist the temptation. He shouldn't be taking care of his enemy at all. He had a headache. He would be relieved when he no longer had an excuse to see Sniper in his home.

If Sniper had thought the match would be torture, the hours afterwards were even worse. With no distractions available, Sniper found himself checking his watch every couple of minutes.

At four minutes to eight, he rearranged the knives on his counter again. At two minutes to he tugged a single wrinkle out of his flat bed sheets. At eight, he pulled the curtain aside and peered out the window. At two minutes past he started to pace. At four minutes past he began to worry. At six minutes past he heard a knock at the door and flung it open.

'I thought you weren't going to come!'

Spy gave him a look. "I said after eight. I could have arrived much later." He stepped in past Sniper and began removing his suit jacket and dress shirt in a business-like manner. Make this fast, he thought. No fuss. Just in and out and back to his own base as soon as he could get out.

'Right,' Sniper agreed. He stood in the door for a moment, watching the Spy waltz right on in and start taking his clothes off as though he lived here. There was something sharp and precise about the motion that made it clear the Spy just wanted to get on with this. Why had he come? Why had he agreed to do this? It still didn't make sense to Sniper, and he'd already managed to take it for granted once. He'd be careful to not do the same again.

Spy saw the knives neatly placed on the counter and tucked them in his suit pocket so he wouldn't forget them. He sat on the bed and looked up at Sniper expectantly. He tugged up his mask, exposing his neck.

Wow, the Spy really did just want to get on with this, didn't he? No faffing, no messing, just cutting straight to the chase. Sniper was glad of it in a way. Things had ended up... complicated last time. This was setting up to be something more business-like and straightforward.

For the Spy to just offer up his bare neck like that though...that set off a flurry of emotions in Sniper that were far from straightforward.

Spy gritted his teeth. Sniper was dawdling. He put his hands in his lap carefully folded and waited.

Sniper perched on the edge of the bed. 'I'll stop if you need me to,' he promised.

Sniper decided to go for as little physical contact as possible. Last time had ended-up rather more touchy-feely than intended. He leant in towards the Spy and tipped his head to the side, fangs brushing against the Spy's neck.

Spy held his breath while Sniper moved in, resisting the urge to shudder at the delicate touch against his skin. He closed his eyes, focusing on how his hands felt in his gloves, where the mask tugged up against his face and definitely not on the whisper-soft brush of fangs over his throat.

There were faint marks on the Spy's neck from the last time Sniper bit him. Sniper wondered if the Spy knew. He used them as a guide for where to bite, sinking his fangs in over the two neatest of the marks. The Spy's skin gave way beneath his teeth with a slightly unsettling sensation.

Sniper injected venom into the wound through hollow fangs, concentrating hard. He still wasn't sure how much to use. He decided to release a little more than he had last time, wanting to find how far he could go before the venom's effects became too potent, leaving the Spy limp and boneless.

The first part of the bite was the worst for Spy, the teeth forcing their way in through his skin painfully. As soon as the venom took effect, the pain washed away. His body started relaxing and he found himself going a bit limp against Sniper. He tried to keep himself upright, but it was difficult.

Spy sighed, eyelashes fluttering. Again, there was that tingling, numbing feeling, and soon it had spread up his fingers to numb out both his hands. His lips felt the same, pins and needles. It was odd, he’d never had any part of his face fall asleep before.  Finally, he had to anchor himself on Sniper’s shoulder, holding onto him so he wouldn’t tip backwards onto the bed.

Sniper didn't notice the Spy's body starting to relax. He was too busy sliding his fangs back out for the second bite. His heart beat fast in his chest in anticipation, his stomach a tight, painful reminder of how much he needed this.

As Sniper pulled back, he caught a glimpse of the Spy's face. Spy’s head was tipped back, eyes half closed, and his pupils so dilated they almost eclipsed the brown of his irises. There was something so overwhelmed and naked about the expression, even with the mask. Sniper wasn't sure what to make of it.

He ducked his head and sank his teeth back in with a muffled little sound of relief. Sniper barely even registered he'd made the embarrassing noise, too distracted by the sensation of hot blood against his tongue and relief sweeping through him.

It was then that he noticed the way the Spy was gripping onto him. Despite his earlier convictions, he found himself wrapping an arm around the Spy's back to try and keep him upright. The Spy's weight grew heavier and heavier until it clicked with Sniper that this here was a Spy with too much venom in him. Sniper would have said, 'Oops' and probably have apologised, if his mouth hadn't been otherwise occupied.

Spy found himself completely and utterly relaxed in Sniper’s arms. The sound of Sniper drinking was a little off putting, him swallowing blood right next to Spy’s ear, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Everything was soft and he felt like he was distant from his own body. It was nice, like he could just drift away. The only thing that seemed to keep him anchored were those teeth in his neck, the mouth pressed to his skin.

Spy shuddered, his hand still clutching at Sniper’s shirt. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to leave. He didn’t think he could walk right now. It might wear off quickly though. He could only wait and see. He’d thought they’d figured out how to keep him from being immobilized. Being frozen like that was still a little unnerving. Or it would be, once the high from the venom wore off.

Sniper was dimly aware that he was starting to feel full. That wasn't fair. He'd spent so much of the last couple of weeks starving, why couldn't his body allow him this?

He didn't want to stop though. And the Spy didn't seem that bothered. He felt so warm in Sniper's arms that he never wanted to let go.

Spy’s hand fell from the RED’s shoulder, weakly. He wasn’t sitting up on his own anymore, all his weight now held up  by Sniper. He was starting to feel colder, but everything was quiet and fuzzy. The prickling in his fingers felt odd and he rubbed his fingers together, unable to focus on anything else. He wasn’t aware of time or pain, his usual concerns had floated away and he was in a completely different world.

When the Spy's hand slipped away from his shoulder, Sniper's first thought was that he'd died.

Sniper froze, panic flickering through him until common sense and the Spy's heartbeat caught his attention.

Despite the myths, a single vampire couldn’t drain a person dry. There was just not enough room in a vampire’s stomach for all that blood. A human could definitely bleed to death after a bite under certain conditions, and more than one vampire falling on a single victim could definitely kill them. But Sniper couldn't have possibly killed the Spy.

With intense reluctance, Sniper decided that maybe it was time to stop. It took all his willpower to force himself to unlock his jaw and release the Spy's throat.

Sniper pulled back and Spy gasped as the pressure released. It was odd, he felt like it should hurt or disgust him, but everything was just so pleasant. The world spun a little and Spy twitched instinctively, feeling as though he’d fall. Thankfully Sniper was holding him or he might have.

Sniper’s hands were warm on him and Spy just wanted to shut his eyes and drift off like this. He wanted to feel safe and cared for. He was starting to get a bit emotional and somewhere in the back of his mind he tried to rein himself back in. He flailed a little in his attempt to sit up, barely managing it. His hands were still numb and he rubbed them together, massaging them gently.

As soon as he could stand, he’d go, he told himself.

Sniper swallowed hard to rid himself of the thick blood still coating his tongue and throat.

'Come on, mate. I think it's best if we put you down for a minute.'

Sniper had started the evening with no intention of letting the Spy stay over again, but what harm could a little while do?

Sniper slowly lowered the Spy onto his side in the recovery position. He made sure to carefully tilt the Spy's head downwards without being smothered in the sheets, so that he couldn't choke on his own tongue. Sniper didn't think it would come to that, but since he still wasn't sure of the potency of his venom, he thought it was best not to run any risks.

He wasn't sure what to do next and didn't really feel like doing anything. He felt kind of  tired. No, more like sleepy. Like he was happy and full and satisfied and slightly high and ready to drift off to sleep now.

He couldn't, not with a Spy to look after. But again, what harm could a little while do?

Sniper let himself collapse down on the bed behind the Spy, watching him through heavy eyes for any signs of distress.

'Oh, wait,' he said, realising he'd forgotten something.

Feeling slightly awkward, but not enough to really care about, Sniper leant forward to swipe his tongue across the wound. 'Sorry about that,' he said a moment later. He knew some people liked being licked, but in his very occasional experience of the matter, it had always felt kind of...slimy to him.

Everything tilted as Sniper gently lowered him onto the bed, arranging him comfortably. Spy fought the urge to give in and lay there briefly, but he was so tired and heavy. Even his eyelids were difficult to move. He couldn’t even raise a hand to tug his mask back down.

Thankfully Sniper didn’t seem as eager to get rid of him this time. Spy was too tired to even speak, to acknowledge the burden he’d suddenly become, or to protest Sniper leaning in and running his tongue over the bite marks on his neck.

Sniper was laying on the bed behind him and Spy felt as though he ought to feel unsafe with his enemy at his back. That wonderful high still made it difficult to care. In fact, he wouldn’t argue if Sniper laid closer. Spy felt a little cold, but distant, like he was still floating. He closed his eyes. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to spend the night.

Sniper decided the point in which you had to make a habit of licking BLU spies was probably the point at which your life had gone completely off the rails.

He watched the Spy breathing, watched his skinny ribs rise and fall under his rucked up undershirt, and wondered vaguely how things had ended up here. And how he didn't mind too much right now that they had.

Chapter Text

Sniper dozed off briefly. He knew he must have been asleep because he blinked open his eyes to find his head on the pillow, leaning against the Spy's back.

Oops. Shit. He hadn't meant to do that.

'You awake?' Sniper asked.

Spy had been in and out of dreaming, and he stirred when Sniper spoke. "Mm," he murmured, an affirmative.

He was still wearing his shoes, he suddenly realized, but his body still felt heavy and he had no energy to fight it. He did, however, manage to roll over so Sniper and him were face to face. Funny, that they'd shared Sniper's secret and so much intimate time together, yet Sniper had never seen his face, they did not know each other's names, or much about each other at all.

Sniper looked much better, his cheeks were flush, and his eyes, bright, if sleepy. Spy wondered how his teammates failed to notice that he was starving to death in front of them.

Sniper hadn't been expecting the Spy to roll over and face him. It made him acutely aware of how close they were. Luckily for him, he had an escape plan.

'Good,' he said in response to the Spy's sleepy murmur. He carefully pulled himself up and over the Spy without treading on him. Sniper stepped out of the bed and over to the sink. 'You'd best eat and drink something before falling back asleep.'

Damn it. That should have been, 'before you go,' but he couldn't think of a casual way to slip that in there now.

Sniper had just invited him to stay the night, but judging by his tone, he hadn't meant to.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather I leave?" Spy yawned. He could drag himself home if he had to. He had fully intended to, after all. The venom just had such a wonderful and peculiar effect, Spy hated to lose the afterglow in the cold night air when he could spend the night warm in bed with an admittedly attractive man.

Sniper made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat. Damn spies, always seeing right through him. He was about to say, 'actually...' when he took a good look at the Spy. The Spy was barely able to hold himself up and looked like he was about to fall asleep any minute. Kicking him out now would just be cruel.

Cruel like him , a little voice in the back of Sniper's head pointed out. It would serve him right. But Sniper wasn't like that.

He shook his head. 'You're fine, mate. Wouldn't be right to just go kicking you out like that. Now you drink this, okay? I'll see about getting you something to eat.'

Spy was about to tell him not to bother when his stomach rumbled. Flushed, he laughed. He might as well accept it. Sniper was doting on him.

"Thank you."

He lay back against the pillow and dozed a little as Sniper moved about the little kitchen. It was amazing, being able to relax so thoroughly in front of a near stranger. Spy allowed himself to enjoy it.

'Here,' Sniper said, handing Spy a glass of water and a red-wrapped chocolate bar out of the fridge. It wasn't just any chocolate bar though, it was special stuff that Medic got imported in from Switzerland. He'd given the whole team a chance for a taste of one at some point, and now whenever he got a new shipment in, he was pestered constantly for them. Heavy was the only person Medic would give them out to freely these days though. The others had to be earned by behaving during medical check-ups, or won off of Medic in bets and card games.

Sniper had been lucky enough to win two off of him in a game earlier in the week. One he'd scoffed himself, the other he'd hung on to for the Spy. Even when he'd felt really angry at the BLU, he'd  managed to resist eating it.

'This'll help with your sugar levels,' Sniper explained.

Spy raised an eyebrow, looking from the imported chocolate to the unshaven bushman. What an odd combination. He took it, breaking it into pieces and popping a small piece in his mouth with a groan.

He wondered if Sniper had a sweet tooth, or if he had gotten it specifically for him.

"You were nearly starving after five days, weren't you?" he asked, offering Sniper a piece of the chocolate bar.

'Well...six days was definitely pushing things,' Sniper said evasively. Yes, five had been his limit, and thanks to him managing to scare the Spy away that day, he'd been forced to push things by a further day. It had not been fun.

'Once I get my supplies back I'll be fine though. I'd been training myself to survive on small amounts at a time, supplemented by animal blood. This...bingeing is more natural for a vampire, but I guess I'd adapted to my usual style, so I'm not lasting as long as I think I should be able to in between...bites.'

"If you'd rather do four days, we could arrange that," Spy again held out the chocolate for Sniper. "You didn't seem yourself yesterday," he said dryly.

He waited patiently for Sniper to take a piece. Even though it would make no sense for Sniper to have put something in the chocolate, Spy was not in the habit of taking food from strangers, and he was lucid enough to be back to his usual habits. A spy didn’t get to be in his forties by accepting gifts without some suspicion.

'Nah, you have it all. It'll do you more good than me,' Sniper said, oblivious to the Spy's suspicions. 'Besides, I'm uh, kind of full.'

"Yes, I'm sure you are, however I would feel less paranoid if you took a small piece," Spy explained.

'Oh,' said Sniper, surprised. 'Oh,' said Sniper again, annoyed. Suspicious little piker. Christ, you tried to do something nice for a spy and they acted like you were trying to poison them.

'Spy,' Sniper said as he took the offered chocolate bar and snapped off the end piece. 'I literally just had you by the throat, and technically I have already poisoned you tonight. The chocolate's safe.' To prove it, he popped the piece in his mouth and held out the rest of the bar for the Spy.

"I know. It makes me feel better, thank you. And it's delicious." He slowly chewed another piece, then had a bit of his water. "You didn't answer me about our schedule."

Sniper still didn't answer. He was too busy concentrating on the chocolate melting on his tongue. He hadn't eaten anything before so soon after biting the Spy, and dear God had he not known what he was missing out.

If this chocolate was delicious normally, right now it was something beyond divine.

Sniper had had no idea that taste would be heightened along with all his other senses.

'Sorry,' Sniper said once he’d swallowed. 'That just was really, really good.'

"You can taste better?" Spy asked, distracted by the chance to learn more about this whole thing. He offered Sniper another piece of chocolate with a little grin. He doubted he'd say no this time.

Sniper made a happy humming sound in agreement and accepted a second piece even though he knew he really shouldn't. He closed his eyes as he ate the chocolate, making the same humming noise as before.

Spy laughed; Sniper looked so overwhelmingly happy. Still snacking, Spy made a colossal effort to kick off his shoes. He wasn't sure he wanted to undress further, or if Sniper would be comfortable with that. He stifled another yawn, pulling his undershirt down to cover his exposed abdomen.

'Ah, so every four days, yes,' Sniper said a minute later. 'Uh, as long as that's okay with you. It shouldn't be all that long until my supplies come through.'

He didn't mention that he'd realised the best thing to do would be just to get the Spy to bleed out into a flask or something so that he could have blood to mix into his coffee everyday. Despite how messy and complicated these visits were, Sniper didn't want them to stop, not really. And besides, the Spy wouldn't get the high he was chasing that way.

Spy nodded. "Same time, then." He finished his water and chocolate faster than he thought he would. Eating with gloves on bothered him and he was forced to wipe his gloves clean on a handkerchief after.

Sniper nodded too, and then passed Spy an orange and a paper towel for the peel. 'Vitamins,' he said simply.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you thought I was too thin," Spy teased, starting to peel the orange.

Sniper looked down at the skinny Spy in his undershirt and rumpled trousers. 'You are.' It wasn’t intended as a criticism, just an observation.

Spy shrugged, "Always have been." He couldn't remember a time when he'd ever had an ounce of fat, even once food became less of a worry, he still tended to hoard it and save it rather than eat all he needed.

Sniper brushed a hand across his stomach subconsciously. He'd gained a little bit of extra padding there in recent years, despite his lanky frame. He'd gone and lost it again though, thanks to how little he'd been able to eat over the last couple of weeks.

"I think I can guess why you're so thin," Spy said. "I'm surprised none of your teammates noticed. You looked so ill."

Spy watched Sniper continue to stand awkwardly and patted the bed to encourage Sniper to join sit down. He was nearly done his orange and he was sure he'd be able to fall asleep again. He could still feel the effects of the venom; mostly the sense of ease and the tingling in his extremities.

Sniper shifted uncomfortably and then perched on the very edge of the bed. 'I keep to myself, so I guess they don't see much of me. And with my hat pulled down low and my aviators on, even when they see me, they still don't see much of me…’

It was a good thing none of them had been suspicious. All the same, a part of him was bothered that no one had seemed to notice anything wrong with him.

Spy nodded. He did live away from the others. If they didn't see him they couldn't suspect him.

"Were you... did you want to be a vampire?" Spy asked, tentatively. He wasn't sure Sniper would appreciate him prying. And surely that was a personal question.

Sniper shrugged. 'Well it was that or die, so I guess it seemed like the better option at the time.'

"Would you choose the same now?" Spy asked, rubbing his numb fingers together gently.

A small smile tugged at Sniper's lips. 'Nah... 'Cos we've got respawn.'

“True, the benefit is the same, I suppose. Though respawn doesn’t stop ageing us completely,” Spy looked Sniper over for a moment before making the call to rest his head on his shoulder. The RED looked tired and relaxed. He could likely get away with it. “How old are you, then?”

'Uh, not that old,' Sniper said, running a hand through his hair nervously, leaving tufts of it sticking up without realising it. There was an enemy Spy resting his head on him. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

'Got turned about ten years ago, I think. Back when I was thirty-four. In vamp years I'm pretty much a baby. Or a “fledgling” as they call it.'

Spy snickered. The word fledgling just made him think of a baby bird begging for food, wearing Sniper’s hat and sunglasses. It was a ridiculous image.

“I have a question,” he murmured. “Would you have done the same for a BLU, if you’d found out one of us was starving?”

Sniper frowned. 'Couldn't have done. If you mean would I have done so if I was human and someone on your team was the vamp? In that case...' Sniper stopped to try and work out the answer for himself. 'Uh, honestly, I can't imagine it working out like this with anyone else. For one, I'd probably be freaking out about the whole vamp thing if I wasn't on this side of it. You know, trying to hunt down the “monster” and all. And besides, if it was anyone else who was the vamp, chances are they... they'd be able to... well. I probably wouldn't have known I'd been bitten, so it could go on without my consent without me ever knowing about it.'

“Hmm,” Spy nodded, not completely understanding what Sniper meant, but willing to pretend. He’d been looking for more of a yes or no, but he wasn’t going to stop Sniper from revealing more of himself. “Why wouldn’t you know you’d been bitten?”

'Well, uh, because I'd most likely be mesmerised, so I wouldn't remember anything about it. Mesmerising is... You ever had a drunken one night stand where you woke up the day after, feeling like you'd had a good time but not able to remember much about it?'

Spy laughed, “I have to admit, I’m surprised you have.” Sniper didn’t seem like the one night stand type. “That makes sense. Otherwise it would have been easier to find rumours about vampires.”

Spy realized his mask was still up around his neck. Carefully, he probed the bitemarks. They seemed to have closed up, but he could still feel them. His neck was sore where he’d been bitten, like he’d pulled something. Spy tugged his mask down over his neck. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t bleed through it.

Sniper could feel the heat rising in his face. Dammit, that could happen again now.

No, he hadn't. It was just the example he'd heard others give.

He hurried to distract himself with the rest of his explanation, though it sounded as though the Spy had already worked things out for himself.

'So, yeah, no bodies lying around drained of blood 'cos vamps don't actually need that much, and no one—well, not many anyway—going around with stories of being bitten because of mesmerising. It's all to do with the eyes,' Sniper said, gesturing to his own. 'Once you make eye contact with a vamp, they can make you forget the whole thing.'

Spy chuckled. “But you’re a baby bird?”

Though he was exhausted, he wasn’t looking forward to sleeping in his clothes again. Sniper had been comfortable enough to strip down last time. That had been a bit of a surprise. Spy didn’t mind so much sleeping in his gloves, but the prosthetics themselves were uncomfortable after a full day. The mask was just awkward. He always woke with it off to one side, his hair sticking out one of the holes. At least it helped keep him warm.

Sniper shook his head, staring down at his hands on his lap. 'No, it's innate. Fledglings develop the ability within the few months or so. I just never did. That makes things a lot more complicated. To a vamp, it's like being born blind or missing a limb; things are always going to be more difficult for you. Except with this there's also the added danger I might reveal the existence of vampires to the world because I'm- because I—because I can't do this one simple thing.'

Spy could tell it bothered him, but he was far too tired to sit up and attempt to comfort him. He reached out and slowly twined their fingers together.

"Then I suppose you're quite lucky to have met me."

Sniper froze. He stared down at the Spy's hand entwined with his as though it was a venomous spider he couldn't risk startling.

The Spy.

The BLU Spy.

Was holding his hand.

Sniper looked away. Maybe he could just pretend he hadn't noticed. That would work.

As though it was possible to miss the soft, warm kid leather between his fingers.

Wait.

He should have snatched his hand away, not left it there. Now the Spy would definitely think he was queer.

Then again, it was the Spy who'd instigated the contact. So did that mean... Nah. He was French. Holding another bloke's hand was probably just a French thing. Bunch of bloody poofters.

Spy chuckled as Sniper froze up. Whatever he was, he wasn't used to being touched, and them being enemies surely didn't help. But he remembered being wrapped up warmly in Sniper's arms and he would be happy enough to spend another night like that.

He was struggling to keep his eyes open at this point and finally gave in. He gave Sniper's fingers a brief squeeze.

Bastard . You can't just hold a guy's hand like that and fall asleep. Bloody hell, what was he supposed to do now? Sniper decided he'd better hold tight. Well, not hold tight, but just sit there until he was sure the Spy was actually asleep and didn't just have his eyes closed.

But how long might that be?

Spy didn't take long to fall back asleep, feeling unusually safe in an enemy's bed.

Damn, look at him. The Spy looked so... human, when he was asleep. Less like a backstabbing BLU and more like a real person. Sniper wasn't sure he was comfortable with that. Slowly, Sniper pulled his hand free and lowered the Spy onto the bed. He stood up and filled up the Spy's glass in case he wanted more water in the morning.

Sniper shed his clothes down to his boxers, still thinking about how strange it was to see the Spy lying there asleep in his bed. He realised as he moved back over to the bed that the strangest part was that the Spy was comfortable enough to fall asleep deep in enemy territory, with just a RED for company. That was... that was really something. Just what, Sniper wasn't sure.

Sniper tried to clamber carefully over the Spy to avoid waking him, but it wasn't the easiest thing to do. Especially when the Spy was taking up so much room.

Spy woke very briefly as Sniper climbed over him into bed, moving a little for him. He fell back into his odd envenomed dreams, dreaming of Sniper, of fangs, and this time there was no struggle, only willing submission.

It didn't take long for Sniper to fall asleep. He dreamt as well, but his dreams were not nearly as pleasant as the Spy's.

There was something outside his van, clawing at the door. He grabbed at his kukri only to find when he had hold of it that it was nothing more than a butter knife. The scratching came again, but from beneath one of the windows. Sniper rushed to it, fearing what he might see but even more frightened of the unknown. Nothing. Nothing was there.

More scratching. From the opposite window this time. Then silence. Silence silence si—scratching again. From the ceiling. Sniper clutched the useless knife in his hands and slowly looked up. Nothing.

There was a creak behind him. Sniper froze. It was behind him. Right. Behind him.

Chapter Text

Spy woke to Sniper squirming and whimpering. For a moment he thought it was part of his own dreams. It was mostly dark in the camper, but from the moon’s light Spy could see the fear on Sniper's face, his forehead creased, his eyes squeezed shut tightly.

Now, would it be wise to wake an assassin from a nightmare? He didn't think so. Not by shaking him anyway.

Spy reached over carefully, stroking Sniper's hair. Perhaps he could wake him more gently. "Sniper," he murmured. "You're dreaming."

Sniper's eyes flickered open, his chest heaving. There was something moving right in front of him. The dream still clinging to him, he flinched away with a startled cry.

Then a familiar scent registered with him. That evening's events came back to him. It was the BLU Spy. Just the BLU Spy. A dangerous man, yes, but not the dangerous monster Sniper had thought he was. 'Sorry, I thought—I thought you were a feral.'

Spy kept his hand on Sniper's head, hoping it was somewhat comforting. At least he'd woken fairly easily. And without too much of a reaction; Spy wouldn't have been surprised if he'd been attacked.

"A feral what?" Spy asked, eyes adjusting to the dark quickly. Sniper looked awful. It must have been a terrible dream.

'Vamp. Like the one that got me,' Sniper said. 'Fuck I hate those dreams. Used to get them all the time after I was first turned but they mostly stopped after a couple of years. Been getting them again recently though. Sorry.'

It was embarrassing really. He was a full grown man, he shouldn't be having bad dreams like a little kid. Especially when someone else was present. And the BLU Spy of all people. Who was touching his head for some reason.

Spy wound an arm around Sniper. “I hope you don’t mind me waking you. I know I’d have rather been woken.” He could see that Sniper was embarrassed, but Spy had his fair share of nightmares. Most recently about the man he was currently snuggling, but usually about things much longer ago.

Even though Spy could tell Sniper was unhappy and unsettled, he was too curious not to ask. “What makes a vampire feral?”

Okay, so this right here was definitely more than just being French. To feel comfortable putting an arm around him like this, the Spy had to be attracted to men, surely? A strange thought occurred to Sniper. What if the Spy was attracted to him? It seemed like an unlikely theory but he was glad for the distraction from it, even if the Spy's topic of choice was not a favourite one.

He frowned, trying to pull his sleep-muddled thoughts together.

'Do you mean as in, what sets a feral vamp aside from a normal one? Or how a vamp goes feral?'

“Either. Both.” Spy hesitated. “But you can answer that another time. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it. But we’re safe here, it was only a dream.” Did that sound patronizing? Hopefully not. Spy was never sure what to say to comfort people. He was far better at scathing sarcasm and cruel remarks than honest and sincere attempts to console someone.

“I mean, I know they can seem real,” he tried again. He often found it difficult to shake nightmares loose unless he fully woke up and turned on the light. Sometimes they wouldn’t leave even during the day, and those were the worst. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know they were just dreams, it was the fact that his own mind knew best how to torment him.

Sniper snorted. 'Yeah, I know.' How old did the Spy think he was, five? Sniper understood though that it was just the Spy's attempt at comforting him. Not that he needed it. Dreams were just dreams, they couldn't hurt you.

The offer to explain another time was an appealing one. If he started now, Sniper wasn't sure where the conversation might end up. There were words that wanted to get out, here in the hushed dark, that he knew he would never say during the day.

He found himself speaking all the same.

'Ferals are like rabid vamps. They can still think like normal ones as far as we know, but everything prohibiting them, everything to tell them to stop and consider their actions, is gone. So they're vicious, but clever with it. Top predators that don't care if they expose all of us as long as they get to sink their teeth into their next meal.

'They're driven by hunger, much worse than we are. Their bodies change. At first it's just sharper nails and teeth and weird looking pupils. Then their skin goes pale, their eyesight weakens, their limbs grow longer, they start to burn in sunlight but they become far far stronger. All those changes raise their metabolism, makes them burn through fat and calories faster than you can imagine. Their whole existence becomes about food. The next kill. Blood.

'They're the true monsters.'

Not me.

Spy frowned, suddenly feeling a little too close for comfort, pressed against Sniper as he was. He knew Sniper had control, he had clearly shown it and earned Spy’s trust a few times, but he had also seen the man almost lose it. Still, Spy knew why it had gotten so difficult. Sniper had been starving.

Was that what turned vampires feral? Hunger? If Spy hadn’t fed Sniper, is that what would have happened to him? Is that why his eyes looked odd for a moment last time they fought?

“How do they get that way?” Spy pressed.

'I...I don't know,' Sniper admitted reluctantly. 'All I know is that every few years, you hear of someone going feral. Clans have to kill anyone turning feral before they become a danger. Or at least, they’re supposed to.

'I've... I've heard that it can be hereditary, though I don't know if by that they mean your family tree or the line of vamps from the one who first bit you. I was also, uh, I was also once told...'

Sniper didn't know if it was true. He didn't know if it had just been a cruel remark meant to get under his skin, but he'd lived with it in secret every day since.

'Someone once said to me that not being able to mesmerise is a sign of a weak will. The sign of someone who's likely to go feral.'

So it was an unknown. That wasn’t terribly reassuring. Spy suspected he was right though. Sniper had acted most like an animal when he was starving and unable to fight his hunger. Soon enough he’d be fed regularly by his own supplies rather than an enemy Spy. It was nothing to worry about, he assured himself. He was just a man.

Just a man who had fangs and drank blood.

“Will you be able to sleep again?” Spy asked.

Sniper let out a huff of amusement. 'With sweet dreams like mine, I'm sure I will.'

The Spy was taking this surprisingly well. Unless he was just hiding his horror. He was a Spy after all; they were great actors. Maybe after this he was secretly deciding to never come back ever again, leaving Sniper to starve.

Sniper wouldn't blame him.

“You should try, anyway,” Spy sighed. It had been an odd sleep, lots of waking and dreaming. He didn’t feel particularly well rested, but he was also still feeling the effects of the venom. It was hard to feel anything but relaxed.

He made himself more comfortable on the pillow and shut his eyes. It was a little odd to be face to face with Sniper still. So far the Australian had balked at most of his attempts at intimacy, which was about what he’d expected. He felt like he was overstepping boundaries now that he was a little more awake.

'Yeah,' Sniper agreed, stifling a yawn. He was never one to turn down the opportunity to sleep.

He pulled away from the Spy as much as he could given the close quarters, not comfortable with trying to get to sleep when they were face-to-face with so little distance between them. He'd wait until the Spy was asleep before rolling over to face away from him so he wouldn't think he was being rude.

Spy woke slowly in the morning, feeling a little hungover. He was entangled in Sniper’s arms, and warm, far too warm to be comfortable. Though, of course, he was still mostly dressed. Sniper’s naked skin was hot against his bare arms and sides where his undershirt rode up.

Carefully, Spy sat up, trying not to disturb Sniper too much. He looked peaceful. He had nothing of the fear from last night’s nightmare, or the intense concentration that Spy usually saw on his enemy’s face. Instead his face was slack, his chest rising and falling evenly as he slept.

Managing to get out without moving the RED too much, Spy grabbed his shirt and began to dress, yawning.

Consciousness slowly returned to Sniper as the warmth from the Spy had faded away.

'Mrpth?' he said eloquently, wondering where the heat had gone but not fully awake yet.

He blinked his eyes open, taking stock of his van and the Spy dressing in front of him.

Oh. That had happened again.

And judging by the position he was in, Sniper must have fallen asleep before the Spy had because he'd never got around to turning over like he'd intended to.

Spy pulled on his jacket, buttoning it and smoothing it out. He turned when Sniper started making noises, giving him a nod. He looked pretty out of it.

“Four days, like we agreed,” he said quietly, cloaking himself and heading out Sniper’s door.

'Ah, fuck,' Sniper muttered to himself when the Spy was gone. He hadn't actually managed to wake up enough to say goodbye (or anything else) before the Spy cloaked and disappeared.

Jeez, he'd ran off as quickly as a guy who'd had a drunken one night stand and woken up in bed to find the woman lying next to him was ugly as sin.

Sniper pulled the covers up and turned over. Five more minutes.

He was just drifting back to sleep when his eyes snapped back open.

He'd told the Spy. About the feral thing.

No wonder he'd left so quickly.

He'd said four days, but would he really be back?

Chapter Text

Spy felt off for the first day, but no more so than he would have if he'd been drinking. He tried to target Sniper a little less this time, not wanting to frustrate him too much. Still, he couldn't seem to get near the Engineer and it was starting to annoy him. He was dying a lot more frequently than he needed to, he thought. He just couldn't figure out how he was being spotted.

Sniper felt great. Apart from the whole worrying the Spy wasn't going to come back thing. Sniper's powers of self-sabotage were incredible.

He did well during the match though, allowing him to not feel too bad about sparing the enemy Spy a couple more times than he ought to have done. Thankfully, the Spy didn't seem to be concentrating on him too much either.

He’d been doing well, Sniper wise. Sniper never seemed to hit him as often right after one of their meetings. He wondered why that was. Pity, perhaps? Guilt? Some sense of owing? Whatever it was, Spy didn’t mind taking advantage of a little break to go after some of Sniper’s teammates.

The week passed quickly, especially now that they were only four days between seeing each other. Spy found he dreamt of Sniper almost every night. He couldn’t help but inspect the mark left on his neck in his private room. It wasn’t quite a scar, but it wasn’t really healing either, and it stayed through respawn. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. They were tender to the touch, aching like a sore muscle. It admittedly gave him a bit of a rush to poke at them, a bit of that same feeling.

Sniper kept thinking about the Spy and it was annoying. He thought about the Spy when he was sniping, when he was eating, when he was showering and at night when he was trying to get to sleep.

The thoughts ranged from daydreams about biting him, to worrying about the chances of him turning up again, to long string of curse words over surprise backstabs.

But whatever the thoughts, they were never far from the Spy.

Bastard.

On the fourth day, Spy headed out of the BLU base quietly. It was amazing how quickly this was becoming normal. He walked through the dark towards the little camper. He was abuzz with excitement and trying to keep it contained. This couldn’t last very long. He’d have to give this up. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

He knocked, briefly, but didn’t wait for Sniper before stepping in.

Sniper leapt up from his perch on the edge of the bed like someone caught up to no good. 'You came!' Oops, too desperate. Oh well, no way to save it now, he's just have to stick with enthusiasm.

'Uh, do you want some wine or something? Just, I won some in a card game against Spy—against our Spy I mean, so I know it's got to be good stuff but it would probably be wasted on me.'

What Sniper failed to mention was that the card game had been snap. Everyone on RED team was bored of poker these days.

Sniper opened his mini-fridge and pulled out the wine.

'Oh, wait, you aren't supposed to keep red in a fridge, are you? Sorry.'

"We can let it sit," Spy chuckled. Sniper's greeting had been a bit more enthusiastic than he'd expected. He was pleased Sniper kept thinking of him, giving him little things. It was difficult not to find that flattering.

"I brought a treat myself," he admitted. He'd gotten a package from France with some orange chocolates, which had reminded him of Sniper. He'd brought a small package of them to share. He handed the little box to Sniper.

This time around it seemed they were both happy to spend a little time together before. Last time had been abrupt and Spy was glad Sniper was willing to wait.

'Oh, thanks!' Sniper said, taking the chocolates to inspect. More fancy European chocolates, yes! He had no idea what made them taste so good in comparison to American chocolate but the difference was astounding.

It occurred to Sniper that they'd taste extra good after he'd bitten the Spy. Then it also occurred to them that this exchanging of gifts was a far cry from the business-like arrangement he'd been trying to go for originally. He could argue with himself that it was okay for him to give stuff to the Spy because he owed him for services (or would that be goods?) rendered. Spy giving him anything in return made everything complicated.

Even Sniper was aware of how much he was trying to fool himself though. This situation had been complicated from the start.

"I thought perhaps this time we could have everything ready so afterwards neither of us have to move," Spy suggested. It seemed a shame to waste that golden afterglow on fetching water and fruit, assuming Sniper got the same high he did.

Spy undid his tie and let it hang loose about his neck for now. No reason to get undressed yet.

Sniper tracked the movement of the Spy's hand, watching them deftly undo the tie.

'I, uh, yes, that's a good idea. Very organised.'

The way the Spy phrased it made this sound, well, made it sound not quite how Sniper would have put it.

'Nuts are good for blood loss. I mean, if you aren't allergic,' he said, getting a small mixed bag of nuts, seeds and dried fruit out of one of his cupboards. 'I've got more oranges as well, an' water of course.' Sniper filled up a glass and placed it next to the bed.

"No, no allergies," Spy assured him. Though he wasn't sure he'd have admitted it if he did have any.

Spy watched Sniper putter about, glad that he'd suggested it. Maybe this would make afterwards less awkward too. Though somehow he doubted it.

Spy was suddenly at a loss for words. They didn't really do small talk. They didn't know each other. They only really talked about vampire things. Feeling almost as awkward as his companion, Spy took a handful of nuts to crunch on while Sniper finished getting ready.

'Don't eat them all.' Sniper aimed for a joking tone but he really wasn't sure where he stood with the Spy on jokes, so it came out flatter than intended.

'Uh, so, one orange or two?' he asked quickly. As though that was important.

Really though, he hoped things might move on soon because if the Spy didn't want the wine, Sniper would rather like something himself. He was hungry.

Then again, he could cope. It wasn't like the previous times when he'd been starving. This time he could take the time to relax a little. Or at least, he would have been able to if he wasn't so terrible at socialising.

"One is fine," Spy considered the wine, feeling the outside of the bottle. It was still cold, but he was willing to drink it. "I'm going to assume you have glasses?" He was imagining drinking cold red wine out of a chipped mug. What use would Sniper have for wine glasses though? He didn't seem like the wine type.

'I do actually. Somewhere.' Sniper began searching through another cupboard.

The conversation brought up a question Spy been mulling over again. "If I were drunk, would that get you drunk too?" he asked.

Sniper paused. 'Hmm. Maybe. I think drinking it directly would have more effect, but I bet if you had enough and I bit you afterwards, it'd have some kind of effect on me.'

He drew two dusty old wine glasses out from the back of the cupboard and set about washing them, happy to have something to do.

"I thought that might be the case," Spy was glad Sniper thought the same, even if it was just a theory and wasn't important. It just seemed to make sense.

Sniper washed the glasses and Spy checked over the wine bottle quickly, assuring his paranoia that the RED Spy would hardly want to poison the RED Sniper.

Sniper used the Swiss army knife given to him by Soldier last year (a thoughtful present. Pity he apparently gave everyone the exact same thing every time. And insisted they were called 'American army knives’) to uncork the bottle and handed Spy a clean glass.

"Thank you." Spy took a slow sip. It wasn't bad, a bit too cold, but a good dry red.

It was altogether unfair how poised and elegant the Spy looked holding that glass. Sniper felt clumsy in comparison, the glass too small in his hands. He tipped the glass back, taking a mouthful of wine.

Bleh.

Red wine. It was always so....winey. Still, getting a bit tipsy would be fun. There wasn't enough in the bottle to get him properly drunk though, not if he was splitting it equally with the Spy.

A tipsy Spy might be fun too.

Sniper wrinkled his nose at the taste and Spy stifled a laugh. As he'd expected, Sniper wasn't a wine person.

"I'm guessing you prefer beer?" he asked. Sniper had just gotten the wine for him. How thoughtful. Even if he'd just won it in a card game. He'd beaten the other Spy though, that was impressive. If RED was anything like BLU, the team did very little all together except drink and play poker. Sometimes they'd watch movies on the tiny television together but mostly they fought over what to watch.

'Uh, yeah, something like that,' Sniper admitted. Beer, lager and cider were his go-to drinks. No doubt the Spy looked down his nose on all three though, if the RED Spy's opinions were anything to go by.

He had another taste of the wine. Still pretty bad. Ah well. He had another.

"You make a face every time, but it's not bad enough to make you stop drinking," Spy teased. He'd drank his own glass a bit faster than he'd intended. He hadn't had wine in awhile. It wasn't easy to get good stuff here. Mann Co “wine” could also be used to clean guns and legally had to be written in quotation marks.

Sniper huffed. He hadn't realised he'd been that obvious. He tipped his head back and downed the last of the wine. God, the Spy must think him barbaric. Oh well, not everyone was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and raised in fancy French manors like the Spy probably was.

'More?' Sniper asked, reaching for the bottle.

"Definitely," Spy sighed. He felt remarkably at ease with Sniper, even without the effects of his bite as an influence. If they weren't enemies, they would have made comfortable friends.

He held his glass out for Sniper, letting him pour them both some more. He didn't even like getting tipsy around some of his teammates, yet he was well on the way there with the RED Sniper.

Sniper poured him another, sloshing the wine over the side of the glass slightly. 'Oh, shit, sorry.' He grabbed the kitchen towel.

Well done, he told himself. Well done.

Spy shrugged, not concerned. There were a few drops of wine on his glove now and he put down the wine and took the towel from Sniper.

"No harm done," he assured him, "these gloves see worse than wine every day. Usually blood."

Once the glove was dry, he passed the towel back and pulled out his cigarette case, shedding his suit jacket as he did. It was hot in the little camper. He lit a cigarette for himself, then offered one to Sniper.

'Thanks,' Sniper said, accepting it. Cigarettes were fine. He could do cigarettes. He didn't smoke often, finding it left him feeling short of breath if he had too many, but the occasional smoke was fine.

A glass of red wine and a cigarette and Spy was practically in heaven. He made himself as comfortable as he dared on Sniper's small bed, finishing a second glass while they smoked and drank in silence for awhile.

That damn Spy looked so damn at home. He was like the elegant stray cat that wanders in, twines itself between your legs and then jumps onto your bed and settles in.

In comparison, Sniper felt like some gangly, over-sized dog that knew it wasn't really allowed on the bed and was waiting to be shouted at for it.

He took another sip of the wine, waiting for the buzz to hit him.

Spy was already feeling pleasantly loose, his guard as down as it ever got. He poured the last bit of the wine evenly between their glasses and relished the last few mouthfuls, along with the last of his cigarette.

"That was good," he sighed, licking the last drop from the rim on his glass.

Yeah, so, no, the Spy should definitely not do that. It was- yeah, no.

Sniper downed the last of his wine to distract himself and put the cigarette back in his mouth.

Ah, there it was, the buzz he'd been waiting for, the feeling of the world around him mellowing out and growing slightly distant.

"I suppose I should have confirmed before we drank so much... you're still capable of restraining yourself?" Spy asked. He began unbuttoning his dress shirt, frowning a little at his gloves. There were very few things that they prevented. Buttons were one of the trickier things.

Sniper snickered as he stubbed out his cigarette. 'No one's ever said they need me to restrain myself in bed before,' he said, pointing down at the bed to make it clear that he really did just mean in bed.

He kind of felt like he should be taking off clothes too but there wasn't really anything he needed to get rid of. He was indoors, so the glasses, hat and sleeveless jacket were already off.

Spy laughed, "Then I'll trust you to behave yourself," he teased. "If you come so highly recommended."

Once his shirt was off and tucked safely away, Spy tugged up his mask and shifted over into Sniper's space, looping an arm around his neck and tilting his head a little as an invitation.

'Christ,' Sniper muttered, because if that wasn't one hell of an appealing invitation, he didn't know what was. As he leaned forward he could tell that yep, he was definitely tipsy. It was a freeing sensation, one that allowed himself to take a step back from his responsibilities and worries for a while and just enjoy himself in the moment. And he pretty sure he was going to be enjoying himself in a moment.

He tried to keep the initial bite quick and clean, ignoring the urge to bite down deeper.

Sniper was careful with the venom this time, using a little less than four nights ago. If the Spy was feeling the affects of the alcohol too (and probably more so than Sniper, since he was smaller), it was probably best not to leave him a completely muddled wreck.

Sniper pulled his teeth away again, hands shaking slightly in anticipation of the second bite.

Spy's fingernails dug into Sniper through his gloves and his breath caught in his throat. The uncomfortable pinch of the bite and the initial tingling was over quickly and the venom hit him hard. His pupils were blown wide, his muscles relaxed in increments and he slowly leaned his head against Sniper's shoulder.

"Mon dieu," he murmured. The alcohol and the bite together were even more wonderful than he could have imagined. His head was spinning a little, but not unpleasantly. His skin felt tight and hot, every nerve lit up like a light.

Sniper sunk his teeth back in and pressed his tongue against the marks left by the initial bite, letting out a relieved sigh after the first swallow. He let his eyelids flutter shut, his whole world narrowing down to the warm body leaning against him and the taste of blood on his tongue. It made his skin prickle pleasantly down his spine and at the nape of his neck.

Sniper put his arms around the Spy, pulling him closer, letting out a small, muffled sigh as he did so.

Chapter Text

The little shuddering gasps Spy was making were just embarrassing. He clapped a hand over his mouth, unable to keep quiet. The beautiful, buzzing feeling filled him up. Spy felt his lips go cold, his fingertips numb and aching, but the rest of him felt hot and fluid. It was agony and ecstasy.

Sniper reached out to put a hand around the Spy's waist, telling himself that he could allow himself this as he was only supporting the Spy and stopping him from falling off the edge of the bed.

Spy felt light-headed, the world spinning around him dizzyingly. Sniper seemed like the only solid thing he could hold onto. His fingers tightened in Sniper’s shirt and he pulled himself up flush to the vampire’s warm body.

Oh Christ, the Spy had to have no idea what a bad idea that was.  Alcohol and fresh blood and a hot body pressed up against him mixed together to create the most intoxicating of cocktails. Sniper tried to distract himself. Naked bodies. No, not the Spy's; old grannies. Awful wrinkly old people.

Dead bodies. Blood and gore. No, wait, not blood.

This wasn't working.

Damn fucking Spy.

Wait no! Not fucking the Spy.

Sniper shifted away, trying to put a little distance between them

Spy, unable to keep himself upright by himself, tried to move with Sniper and they fell backwards onto the bed, Spy hissing in a breath as Sniper's teeth tugged at his skin.

Ah, shit! Sniper thought he was going to lose his fangs or get head butted when the Spy's weight tipped him back. He only just had time to register that his mouth had only been jarred a  little when the Spy's hips pressed against him.

Oh. Oh. Dazedly, Sniper finally realised he'd been reading this evening completely wrong. For all his awkwardness, Sniper was a proud man. He usually hated being proven wrong. But not so much this time.

A whole vista of opportunities for things he'd only guiltily daydreamed about opened up before him.

His response was to freeze, completely unable to decide what to do from here.

Sniper's eyes snapped open, staring up at ceiling of the van past the Spy. His heart beat painfully fast, his chest feeling too tight and restricting to contain it.  If he kept up the bite he could try and pretend that he'd somehow not noticed the direction things were heading in. If he pulled away now, he'd have no excuse for not pushing the Spy away.

But he couldn't breathe properly like this anymore.

With a gasp, Sniper released the Spy's neck.

"Ahh," Spy breathed, pressing his face into Sniper's chest. It hurt a little to have the teeth pulled out, but the electric high quickly covered it. He wasn't sure where they were headed with this, but he didn't want to leave now. Sniper wasn't pushing him off so that was a good sign.

Sniper let his head roll back, still staring up at the ceiling. As long as he didn't look at the Spy it was fine: he could pretend this was just some particularly vivid fantasy. Or he could push the Spy off of course, but he really didn't want to.He shifted forward to press his face back against the Spy's neck, trying to avoid eye contact.

Sniper buried his face in Spy's neck and Spy shuddered as the bites were nudged. The tingling was resolving itself into a hot overwhelming nothingness. Spy was utterly out of control and quite happy to stay that way. Sniper didn't seem to be going one way or another decision-wise. He didn't want to push them too far and end up scaring Sniper off.

Edging a gloved hand under Sniper's shirt, Spy pushed gently at the boundaries.

Sniper paused, breath catching in the back of his throat. He found himself hyper aware of that little patch of skin just above his hip, and the feel of supple leather against it. He wished the Spy's hands were bare. Where as a moment ago he was uncertain, now Sniper realised just how deep the longing for skin on skin he'd been denying himself for years really ran.

Spy raised his head, tipping it back enough to press their lips together. He pulled away with a grunt. Of course, Sniper tasted like blood. Like his blood. He didn't move his hand away, hoping his little faux pas wouldn't snap Sniper out of this.

Sniper let out a huff of disappointment. He'd never tried kissing another bloke. Had never really thought he wanted to until this moment. But he'd got the barest taste of it and the Spy had flinched away. Sniper was hurt for a moment, trying to work out what he'd done wrong.

Oh, wait, yes. The blood. Sniper wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and licked his lips, trying to rid himself of it. He had a feeling that the taste of copper would linger for some time though, so he wouldn't blame the Spy for not wanting to give it another go.

At least the Spy's hands were still wandering, sending little prickles of electricity across Sniper's skin.

When he leaned back towards the Spy's neck again, he couldn't manage to avoid a glimpse of his face. And he wasn't sure why he'd been trying to avoid it.

The Spy's cheeks were flushed despite the blood loss and his pupils dilated so much his eyes looked almost black. His lips, slightly smudged with blood, were parted just slightly. Sniper wanted to kiss him. Instead he swiped his tongue over the bite marks to make sure they'd stopped bleeding. Sniper wasn't one hundred percent sure where things were going to end up, but he suspected the Spy wouldn't want any further blood loss to hinder his potential for enjoying it.

Spy gave an apologetic shrug. Perhaps they could kiss again later. Pushing off Sniper's chest, he sat up enough to pull off his undershirt, too greedy for skin contact to worry about going from mysterious Spy to skinny man.

He tugged at the pushed up hem of Sniper's shirt. Part of him was nervous of breaking the silence, as though the whole mood would shatter.

There was distance between them. A moment to think about this. About what they were doing.

Sniper decided in that moment, fuck it. They were both adults. The Spy was showing every interest in him, why shouldn't he allow himself this? He'd bitten the guy numerous times without going feral over it, a bit of action wasn't exactly going to turn him into a monster if that hadn't.

Sniper reached out towards the Spy, curling his hands around the sides of Spy's waist. He was as much of a skinny fucker as Sniper had expected, but he was clearly fit and healthy for all those cigarettes he smoked.

Sniper's hands on Spy’s bare skin was heaven. He was so warm, his fingers calloused. Spy broke out in goosebumps. He helped Sniper out of his own shirt, bending close to kiss the rough stubble along his jaw, drawing his teeth over it ever so slowly.

Now that he was starting to think logistics, it occurred to him again that Sniper was likely very new to this. He may never have had a partner at all, never mind another man. Spy might have to take the lead, but not in a way that made Sniper feel overwhelmed or helpless. How far would Sniper let them go?

Sniper held his breath as the Spy's lips brushed against his jaw with the slight hint of teeth.

He mirrored the action, nipping lightly up Spy’s neck, not using his fangs, until he reached the mask rucked up under Spy’s jaw.

The mask was tugging at Spy’s ear and he groaned with frustration. If only he could just pull it up a little further. Sniper had already seen his hair colour, the mask hardly disguised the shape of his face… he stopped himself. Breach of contract. Bad.

But then again, he was already sleeping with the enemy. Before that he’d been … what, collaborating? Could this really get worse?

“Wait, wait,” he panted, pushing himself up on an elbow.

Sniper pulled away immediately, the confidence from a moment ago gone completely. What had he done? Had he ruined things? How? Did the Spy hate having his throat touched and had just never mentioned it before? Was he worried he was going to be bitten again? Did he think Sniper was trying to pull his mask off?

Spy pulled his mask off. His stomach dropped out as he did, suddenly face to face with Sniper. It was amazing how different it was to have the mask off; his skin cooling quickly, his hair stuck down with sweat.

Meanwhile, Sniper’s expression had gone from something close to predatory to worry instantly. Somehow that was very encouraging. Sniper was afraid he’d overstepped. He didn’t want to push Spy too far.

Of course, now he’d ruined the mood. After a few stunned seconds of silence, Spy slid an arm back around Sniper’s neck and gently pulled him down into a kiss. This time he was expecting the coppery taste of blood and it didn’t bother him.

Stunned silence was definitely the way to describe it.

Maskless Spy.

BLU Spy. But no mask.

Spy face.

Sniper almost asked the Spy to put the mask back on, the image before him too surreal, too strange.

But then the Spy pulled him down for a kiss. Sniper was hesitant for a moment, still in shock. But the Spy's lips against his felt as good as he'd hoped and it wasn't long before he relaxed into it.

Until he accidentally caught himself with one of his fangs. 'Ow,' he muttered, pulling away slightly.

'Okay, so now you give me a minute,' he said, leaning his weight onto one elbow he could press his knuckles against his mouth, concentrating on forcing his fangs to retract.

Spy let Sniper figure out his fangs, taking advantage of his bare face to slide their cheeks together, brushing his lips over Sniper’s ear, nibbling at his stubbly jawline. He loved the raspy feel of stubble under his lips and tongue. He hummed against Sniper’s skin, not caring if he was making it difficult for the other man. He really hadn’t minded the fangs.

Okay so the Spy really wasn't helping here, rubbing against him like a needy cat looking for attention.

He tipped his head back, encouraging the Spy to go for his throat, completely distracted from what he'd been doing, top fangs still visible. He'd wanted someone's lips and teeth against his throat again ever since he’d been turned. It was as thrilling as it was strangely vulnerable.

Spy stroked his hands from Sniper’s hair down his neck and shoulders, varying from so gentle as to raise goosebumps, to tugging at his hair. Taking off his mask had very nearly killed the mood and that was the opposite of what he’d wanted. If he had to work a bit to get them back to where they’d been, that was fine.

Sniper found he'd closed his eyes without realising it and blinked them open to glimpse dark, wavy hair, an ear and high cheekbones. The sight was too strange, Sniper closed his eyes again, letting himself be swept away by the sensation of the Spy's body and lips and hands against him.

Sniper had his eyes closed. Spy couldn’t help wonder if it was his way of trying to protect his privacy. As sweet as that thought was, bedroom activities were rarely as much fun without the visuals, at least, in Spy’s opinion.

Spy kept his gloved hand on the back of Sniper’s neck while his left hand worked its way down Sniper’s lean, scarred back. All the marks he could feel were explored, with delicate fingertips.

The Spy's hands tracing his scars made Sniper shiver. When his fingers brushed against the centre of his spine though, in the spot he'd been backstabbed in the most, Sniper flinched from the contact.

A spy touching those scars, that was just too much- too much. Too much of something he didn't have a name for.

Spy felt him flinch away and dropped his hand, resting it on Sniper’s hip instead. He turned his head, kissing the corner of Sniper’s mouth. He didn’t want to speak, again, everything seemed so breakable, but he did immediately regret it. Of course those would be sensitive, especially between them.

Sniper forced his top fangs to retract and turned his face just enough to let their lips meet full on. This time he didn't hold himself back from kissing properly, now there was no chance of him accidentally stabbing himself. He parted his lips, allowing the Spy to deepen the kiss if he wanted to.

And to do whatever else he had in mind for this evening.

Chapter Text

Sniper lay on his back, in his rucked up bed sheets, trying to convince himself that what had happened really had happened. He felt tired and content and and but there was one thing missing.

'Uh, there was those chocolates, wasn't there?' he asked Spy, who was sprawled in the bed next to him with a kind of lazy grace that was usually only found in cats.

Spy reached over and grabbed the chocolates, opening the box and popping one in his mouth with a satisfied sound.

As Sniper reached for the chocolates, he couldn't help but allow himself another tiny glimpse of the Spy's face. The sight was too shocking, too taboo almost, for him to allow himself to stare.

The Spy was right next to him. Maskless. Damn, this was good chocolate.

Spy sighed. He did not want to pull back on his sweaty mask. He did, however, reach down to grab his other glove. Might as well wear both of them. The orange chocolate was melting in his mouth. Everything was just a pleasant buzz. He felt amazing. He was definitely not going anywhere now. He felt boneless. Sniper was warm and Spy couldn't help but slide up against him.

Sniper watched the Spy pull on his other glove in confusion (the Spy's bare hand was a strange sight too, but not as strange as his face). Wouldn't taking the other one off have been the more comfortable option? Spies were weird.

But then the Spy pressed in against him like an affection-seeking cat and Sniper was distracted by an unexpected emotion hitting him out of nowhere. He'd never been one for spending much time on introspection and identifying his feelings but this one had him wrapping his arms around the Spy, wanting to hold him so close he crushed him. Sniper resisted that part, resting his chin on top of the Spy's head, still somehow surprised to feel hair beneath him instead of the mask. He pressed his hips against the Spy's side, one leg hooked over the top of the Spy's. He had the Spy surrounded by as much of his body as he could manage at this angle and it satisfied that feeling at the back of his mind that was saying, mine mine mine mine!

Spy found himself wrapped up completely in Sniper's arms and he had no complaints. Once again, he didn't dare break the silence. He reached down and pulled the sheets up over them both.  Spy closed his eyes, his face pressed to Sniper's chest. He could feel Sniper's heartbeat against his cheek.

He was so tired. His breathing was quick to return to normal, and he found himself drifting in and out of sleep. Everything was warm and he felt so good.

It was going to be so much harder to kill each other.

Sniper couldn't move. There was a Spy asleep on him. It's like with cats, you can't move if there's a sleeping Spy on you. Except spies are less likely to meow grumpily at you if you wake them, and more likely to stab you.

This was a problem for Sniper as he really wanted another chocolate but they were just out of reach.  He slowly leant over, trying not to jostle the dozing Spy.

Sniper couldn't help but glance down to check he hadn't woken him.

Damn, the Spy looked weird without a mask. It hardly covered anything, true, but it had made all the difference between Sniper seeing a BLU Spy and seeing that a BLU Spy was as human and individual as anyone on the base, himself excluded.

Somehow he'd also never noticed what nice eyelashes the Spy had until now. Apparently some people just had it all.

Spy’s dreams were sweet and warm. He woke a few times as Sniper moved or the sheets uncovered him and he felt a chill. It never took long to fall back to sleep.

It was so nice, the feeling of skin on skin, the warmth of another man. He couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it, even though he knew it would be complicated. Sniper’s arms were wrapped about him tightly, a leg thrown over him. Once when he woke, Sniper’s face was pressed into his neck, right against the closed bite marks. It sent shivers through him and he had to gently shift them so he could get back to sleep.

Sniper slept soundly, his dreams full of blood and sex and chocolate. And for some reason, Mr Robinson, his old geography teacher from years ago.

'But I don't wanna sit the test again,' he whined against the Spy's neck, which he'd nuzzled in against in his sleep again after the Spy pulled away.

Spy woke once more briefly when the sun came through the curtains, but merely rolled over and shut his eyes more tightly, wrapping Sniper’s arm comfortably around his waist with a grumble. He wasn’t ready to be awake yet.

When Spy finally woke up properly, he squinted at confusion at the counter next to him, before remembering where he was. And that he had no mask on, and was far more naked than he'd intended to end up last night. And that the Sniper and he had certainly got up to more than originally planned.

Had everything gone too far? They'd be done with this almost before they'd started. It was already more intense than Spy was comfortable thinking about. He'd been fine killing Sniper after being bitten. But would that still be true after last night?

Carefully keeping his worries off his face, Spy relaxed against the pillows, reaching up to grab the orange off the counter that hadn't eaten last night, peeling it lazily.

Sniper woke up as the mattress dipped with Spy’s movement and found himself at a loss as what to do next. They'd barely said a word to each other since things got...even more complicated than ever the night before. So. Now they were on to the awkward morning after, what should he do?

‘Uh, morning,’ he managed.

Giving things more thought, Spy hadn't had anything to help with the blood loss from last night until now. A good vampire would have been more considerate of their partner's needs.

Not that he would call himself a good vampire.

And not that the Spy was actually his partner.

And not that he hadn't been rather distracted with some other, rather more interesting needs.

“Good morning,” Spy said, offering Sniper an orange segment. He hoped Sniper hadn’t expected him to have left before he woke up. It was nice to just be here, quiet and tired, next to Sniper. Even with the sharp feeling in his stomach from his earlier realizations.

"I shouldn't stay too long," Spy said, regretfully. "I usually make some kind of appearance at the base on weekends."

Sniper nodded while chewing the orange slice. That was understandable. And also kind of a relief. After all that had happened, he needed time to himself to sort things out in his head a bit.

Spy groaned, sitting up and starting to gather his things. His trousers were in a tangled mess with his shoes. They'd been in a rush last night. He dressed slowly, enjoying Sniper's eyes on him.

"I'll see you in another four days." Spy bent to pick up his mask, pulling it back into place.

Sniper watched as the man he'd slept with last night slowly turned back into the BLU Spy.

The Spy had known he was looking, and Sniper had known that he knew he was looking, but it had still been impossible to stop his appreciation showing on his face.

Bloody posing spies.

'Four days, uh, yes.'

That was exactly when Sniper would need him again. All the same, four days suddenly felt like a very long time indeed.

Spy sighed as he headed out. Once he was back on base, he was going to have a hot shower and a cigarette. Maybe he'd go back to sleep for awhile too.

He tried to ignore the rising flutter of fear. He'd enjoy it while it lasted. He wouldn't let it hurt.

Sniper let himself fall back onto the bed. Damn. He'd thought things were bad before but now he wasn't just sleeping with the enemy, he was sleeping with the enemy.

He was sure it find a reason to come to regret it soon, but for now, he couldn't.

Chapter Text

During Monday’s battle, Spy avoided Sniper at first. It wasn't hard to avoid someone who always found the furthest spot from the action. After the BLU Medic had gone down three times to headshots though, Spy knew what he ought to do, and headed up to Sniper's vantage point.

He hesitated in the doorway. There was a slight hickey along Sniper's jaw and it brought back some lovely memories. Spy flicked out his knife, stepped closer and drove the knife in hard and fast.

Respawn

That sudden jolt.

That realisation of betrayal.

For a moment, Sniper felt hurt and lost. Then reality came back to him. Of course they had to keep killing each other, he knew that. But sleeping with a spy only made the backstabs harder to take.

Sniper shook his head. No, he was a mercenary. There was no time for thoughts like that here. Besides, it wasn't like the Spy was targeting him again. Not as far as he knew.

Half an hour later when Sniper had Spy in his sights, he hesitated. But just for a moment. A headshot, nice and quick. He wouldn't have even seen it coming.

The only reason Spy knew it was a headshot that had gotten him was the complete lack of warning. Only a headshot was so instantaneous. His stomach sank a little, but he assured himself this was for the best. They couldn't let their work be compromised.

That hadn't made cleaning Sniper's blood off his knife any easier. Usually when he killed people he'd slept with, he hadn't enjoyed their company. Or at least, not in both ways.

He continued avoiding Sniper as much as he could without suspicion. His team still needed him to take out Sniper on occasion though. He redoubled his efforts on the unassailable Engineer. It was frustrating and he went through respawn until he felt dizzy.

By the last hour of the match Sniper knew the Spy definitely wasn't targeting him. Quite the opposite in fact; the Spy had hardly approached him at all. It was weird. It made him feel free and paranoid at the same time. He could keep concentrating on headshots, no need to glance over his shoulder every few seconds. But what if that was exactly what the Spy wanted? What if he was trying to get Sniper to let his guard down? As well as he was doing today with fresh blood flowing through him and senses sharp as a wolf, Sniper knew this relative peace couldn't last long.

The next match started off much the same. Just like he’d noticed the day before, Sniper's aim seemed better than usual. Spy saw Scout's head explode in mid jump and knew he had to take Sniper out again. He crept up, knife in hand. Sniper seemed very intensely focused and Spy stepped closer with his knife in hand.

All it took was one creaky floorboard. Not super vampire senses, not any skill on Sniper's part, not a stroke of luck, just a creaky floorboard. Right behind him.

Without pausing to think, Sniper snatched up the kukri lying next to him and struck out backwards.

Spy took the big knife across his abdomen. It took a moment to register the injury, mostly he was still startled by Sniper's quick reaction. Looking down, he saw his suit torn. There was blood spattered across the floor. He felt no pain, just a sickening dizziness.

"Oh."

He barely realized he'd spoken. He put a hand over his stomach, still holding his knife with determination.

It was the BLU Spy standing behind him, knife drawn.

But it was the man he'd slept with a couple of nights ago who made the lost little 'oh', confusion written across his face.

Life-threatening injuries could be like that; hard to identify or comprehend if they're your own.

Sniper stared back at the Spy in numb horror. It was his job to kill the Spy. He'd done it multiple times today, in fact.

But this wasn't the same.

It couldn't be as bad as all that if he was still standing, Spy told himself. Though he knew that was a lie, he'd seen many men die standing up. He put a hand over the wound. It felt hot, even through his glove, and he didn't dare probe to see how deep it went.

Sniper's expression was something akin to horror. How on earth he'd won a bottle of wine in a game of poker, Spy had no idea. Spy was pretty sure he wouldn't make it back down the stairs. Instead, he tightened his grip on his knife, intending to step towards Sniper. If he couldn't kill him, he could at least provoke him into doing something. His legs wouldn't move and he realized he hadn't been breathing. He let out a little gasp and blood gushed out over his glove.

He wondered if this was harder than a clean headshot for Sniper. Probably. Knives were generally more personal.

Oh God. The Spy was just standing there. Just standing there. Blood leaking over his gloves, dyeing the blue leather purple.

Sniper didn't know what to do.

He wanted to comfort the Spy. He'd never been a very comforting person though.

And anyway, this was the enemy. The BLU Spy.

But Sniper had slept with him. Shared wine and chocolates and a bed with him. Put that way, it almost sounded romantic.

And then he'd gone and left a bloody great slash across the Spy's abdomen. He's caused him pain. Suffering.

Sniper instinctively wanted to call for Medic, but that wouldn't help. Medic would probably find it entertaining to watch the Spy slowly bleed out. Would probably pull the Spy's hand away to see if the cut was deep enough for guts to spill out.

Maybe Sniper should just—

Medipack. There was a medipack downstairs.

'Just—just stay here a second,' Sniper said, putting out a hand. 'Just...' What else was there to say? Don't die?

Sniper dumped his kukri down and ran out the room.

Spy found he couldn't call for Sniper to come back. This was not good. The injury hardly meant anything compared to them being caught. To Sniper being caught helping him. Spy could claim anything to get out of it, and he would, he was not a man who easily took the blame for things. But giving a medipack to an enemy? That was...bad. Spy was finding it hard to think just how bad.

There was another way out of this, one that didn't involve either of them getting caught.

"Ah!" Spy hissed as he fell hard to his knees. He dropped his knife with a clatter and drew his revolver with a shaking hand. Fuck, he was trembling so hard he could barely put the muzzle under his chin. His abdomen was starting to hurt now as the initial shock wore off.

Spy struggled internally with the knowledge that this wouldn't really end his life. It was hard to make himself believe that enough to pull the trigger.

Wherewasitwherewasitwhere – ahah! Sniper snatched up the medikit and clattered back upstairs. He burst into the room and almost ended up throwing the medikit at the Spy.

'You!  Why? Just— gun down. Gun. Down. Why do you always do this?'

"Can't—" Spy groaned. He steadied his hand but he couldn't bring himself to squeeze the trigger. He tensed, panting, then dropped the gun to his lap. "Don't help," he whispered.

'But...' Sniper said, taking an uncertain step forward and holding up the medikit.

Spy must be in agony right now, why didn't he want help?

"Kill me," Spy managed. The pain was creeping through his whole body now, shooting through his arms and legs.

'But...' Sniper said again.

Slowly, he lowered the medipack.

He understood.

'I'll make it quick,' Sniper promised. He put the medipack down and pulled his SMG out of his bag. It was a much more suitable weapon to use than his rifle, and his kukri had already done enough damage here.

Sniper returned to the Spy's side and hesitated. Sniper wasn't a very comforting person, but... He stroked a hand over the Spy's head, feeling the fabric of the mask beneath his fingers.

Sniper finally picked up a weapon. Spy smiled with relief, breaths coming short and fast, looking up at Sniper. He never imagined he'd feel so happy to have a lover trying to kill him.

'I'm sorry,' Sniper said.

And then he shot the Spy.

Spy respawned. He had to sit down for a moment and just breathe, hands shaking. "Fuck," he sighed, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it.

Sniper stared at the corpse dumbly for a moment. That was his fault. Well, of course it was his fault. This was his job. Sniper sighed to himself. Next time he saw the Spy, he'd would probably mock him for making such a big fuss out of nothing. They did this everyday, after all.

That evening after the match had ended in a tie, Sniper heard Medic talking about the new deliveries he was expecting in by Friday. Sniper stopped dead in the kitchen, hot coffee splashing onto the floor from his mug. So he'd have just one more...encounter with the Spy before his usual supplies arrived. He considered lying to Spy about it for a moment, but for all his flaws, he'd been raised to be honest. The Spy needed to know he didn't have to keep coming around. Sniper tried to think of an excuse for it to continue but his mind came up blank. He'd just have to make the most of their next- and most likely- last evening together.

Chapter Text

Spy avoided Sniper as much as he could. Their next meeting was midweek, meaning there wouldn't be much time to recover. Still, this was likely their last time. Spy brought the last of his chocolates to share, but hesitated to bring any alcohol. As nice as that would be, this had to end and Spy would already be hungover tomorrow, thanks to the venom.

The death hadn't bothered him so much, once it was over. But Sniper's expression stayed with him; the horror, the guilt. He showed every bit of it on his face. Sniper felt strongly about him.

Spy wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Truthfully, they knew almost nothing about each other. They had spent some enjoyable time together, but that was it. Once it was over, would Sniper always wear that expression when he killed his enemy?

Spy pushed it out of his mind. He went to Sniper's camper, ready to stop worrying, stop thinking, and give in to that peace he found with the RED.

Sniper opened the door before the Spy could even knock. He was back to being able to sense the Spy's presence, though that ability had returned even slower than last time. On top of that, though he was hungry, there wasn't yet the hint of desperation there had been by this point before. After his temporary blip, he was getting better. Sniper had no idea what it would be like trying to go back to tiny sips of blood mixed into coffee after finally getting to sink his teeth into the real thing.

'Uh, hi,' he said, unsure of where they currently stood.

"Bonsoir," Spy stepped in as Sniper made room for him in the narrow entryway. Sniper looked nervous, his face tight. "You're alright?" he asked.

It was strange how familiar and comforting this little camper was becoming. Spy loosened his tie, settling on the bed. It was nice to not have to wear his full uniform.

'Yeah, 'course I am. It's just —ah, it's nothing.' He'd tell the Spy later. Or maybe tomorrow morning, if the Spy stuck around again. Oddly, Sniper found himself hoping he would.

'Do you want a lager? It's proper European stuff, you know, kind of weak but with a real smooth, light taste, you know, the refreshing kind.'

He hadn't been able to get hold of wine and had been fretting about it the last couple of days. Spies could be so fussy but he was sure the Spy would like it if he just gave it a go.

Spy was surprised by the offer and found he couldn't refuse. A lager would be refreshing, even though it wasn't what he usually drank.

"Thank you, it's been awhile since I had one," he said. The weight of his usual paranoia seemed so much lighter here with Sniper. Ugh, he was not looking forward to missing this.

Usually Sniper would just drink straight from the bottle. That didn't seem like a very spy-ish thing to do so he went to find a couple of clean glasses. He was pretty sure though that the Spy would make even drinking straight from a bottle of lager look sophisticated and seductive.

Sniper found the glasses and popped the tops off the lagers with a bottle opener, resisting the urge to try and show off by using his kukri. Or his teeth.

'Here you go,' he said, handing the Spy a full glass. 'It's good, I promise.'

But what if the Spy didn't like it?

Spy was surprised again as Sniper went for glasses. He seemed more the type to drink from the bottle, and mostly, so was Spy. He despised washing dishes, so he often made do without to save himself the work.

Spy took a sip. It was alright, good for what it was, even though he preferred wine. He licked his lips.

Sniper took a sip himself, pretending he wasn't watching the Spy. The pleasant but just slightly bitter taste of the lager was welcome. It wasn't alcoholic enough to give him a proper buzz but it should be enough to help him loosen up. For both of them to loosen up.

He tried to think of something to say but the only two subject that came to mind was what happened the other day and the fact he wouldn't be needing the Spy again. But he didn't want to talk about either of those things.

They ended up making meaningless but pleasant small talk as they drank. Spy recounted an only slightly exaggerated story about Scout putting Bonk! in the BLU Demo’s hip flask before the last match, which explained a lot, and Sniper talked about the rare bird he’d spotted a couple of days back.

It wasn’t long though, before the alcohol and pleasant small talk came to an end. Sniper’s story trailed off as he realised how boring it probably sounded to Spy.

Spy wouldn’t allow for there to be time for things to become stilted and uncertain between them. He placed his glass down and reached out, giving Sniper time to pull away. He grabbed the tall man by his belt and tugged him down to the bed to sit next to him.

"I was hoping to get a kiss before you bite me, this time," Spy admitted, leaning against Sniper amiably.

'Oh,' said Sniper, tingling heat running down his arms and spine. The way the Spy had just hooked him by the belt and pulled him down like that- Christ. That was really something. He hastily put the glass down on the side and turned back to the Spy.

Spy waited a moment to see if Sniper would lean in, then put a hand on the back of his neck. The kiss was delicate at first, and Spy was pleased to only taste lager on the Sniper's lips.

Though Sniper had grown up thinking kissing was only interesting to girls, he had to admit that he'd certainly been hoping to do it again. Especially since the Spy seemed so damn good at it. Sniper let him lead, enjoying the almost teasing softness of the kiss, but after a little while he couldn't resist giving the Spy's lower lip a small nip.

Spy nibbled back, running the tip of his tongue over Sniper's lips. His fingers tugged gently at his hair and slowly but surely, he insinuated himself into Sniper's lap.

Sniper parted his lips, allowing Spy to deepen the kiss. Spy seemed more interested in pulling at his hair and getting into his lap though, neither of which Sniper minded at all. It was nice to feel wanted. More than nice, really.

Sniper broke the kiss and trailed his lips down to the Spy's neck, fingers reaching under the bottom of the Spy's mask questioningly.

Spy nodded, tilting his head a little so Sniper could get his fingers under the balaclava. He’d already seen his face, there was no point in hiding now. While Sniper was busy with that, Spy slid his hands under Sniper's shirt, enjoying the lean muscle. Most of Sniper's muscle was in his long, wiry arms, but his abdomen was strong from holding still with his heavy gun. There was a familiar greenish bruise where his rifle kicked him, and Spy brushed the back of his fingers over it.

Sniper hummed in appreciation at the Spy's roaming hands, though he wished they were gloveless. Hadn't the Spy taken them off last time? Hopefully he would again tonight.

“Take off your shirt,” Spy murmured, pulling it up and running his hands admiringly over Sniper’s lean body.

Sniper nodded, pulling away to unbutton his shirt and let the Spy push it off. He'd never expected someone to actually want to see him with his top off. He was lean and scarred and just so far from the Australian ideal that he'd always felt self-conscious about it back in his home country. The Spy didn't seem to disapprove though, so Sniper had no qualms about stripping in front of him.

Spy's fingers traced the scars across Sniper's skin, carefully avoiding the ones on his back.

'You smell good, did I ever tell you that?' Sniper asked. He hadn’t ever meant to bring that up, but here it was. 'First time I ever came across you in battle, I knew I had to have you. Every time you came close to me, even for a backstab, I just wanted you closer.' Sniper wasn't sure if what he was trying to say and what was actually coming out of his mouth was remotely the same thing.

Spy had never imagined Sniper would be bold enough to say anything like that. It was overwhelming, how much he wanted it, wanted to hear those things.

'I want to bite you,' Sniper said, his voice husky.

Spy nodded when Sniper spoke, too fast, too eager.

Even though Sniper hadn’t had much to drink, he felt light-headed as though he'd downed a whole bottle of something much stronger. He couldn't believe that that cunning, aloof enemy he saw on the battlefield was here in his van, all control of the situation willingly surrendered.

Sniper couldn't resist it anymore, he sank his top fangs in cleanly. He tried his best to release roughly the same amount of venom as last time as Spy had certainly seemed to have enjoyed that particular encounter.

Pulling his fangs free, he tightened his grip with both his hands briefly before opening his mouth wider and sinking both sets of fangs into the Spy's neck.

Spy sucked in air as Sniper broke the skin. That was always the worst part, the sharp pain took him out of the wonderful glow for a moment. It hurt, briefly, then the venom took over. He was glad glad Sniper was holding him, otherwise he may have slid off the bed.

Sniper pulled away all too soon. It could have been a minute, or ten, or an hour, or an entire day and it would still have been too soon.

After that though, they moved onto something else equally enjoyable.

Things were just getting really interesting when Sniper unexpectedly froze.

Spy made a disgruntled, questioning noise. He’d been enjoying himself and didn’t see any reason to stop.

Sniper didn’t say anything, head cocked to one side. Listening.

He listened.

And listened.

And a fist hammered on the door.

Spy was off the bed in a second, silent and bristling with nervous energy. He had a knife in his hand within a few seconds, his cloaking device next. He looked to Sniper with wide eyes, not sure what to do beyond hide. Unless Sniper had planned this. Unless... fuck! Spy was panting, standing completely naked in Sniper's camper, face flushed, chest rapidly rising and falling. If Sniper had planned this, he'd fallen right into the trap.

Sniper sat up in alarm, staring back at the Spy with equally large eyes.

'Yo, Snipes! Snnippppes. Snipperrr. Come on man, you there? Lights on. Sniiiiiper?'

Well fuck. If there was one thing worse than a Scout, it was a drunk Scout.

'What?' Sniper barked, voice rough.

'You should...should be there man, it's Solly's birthday. You can't just...' He hiccuped. 'You just can't...not be there. And Spy wants to play snap with you. Not with anyone else. Just with you.' He sounded unreasonably upset about that, but then again, he was probably completely hammered.  

Sniper ran a hand of his face in irritation, leaving his hair ticking up at odd angles.

'It's late, Scout. Time for bed.'

'Awwww, but Sniiiiper.'

'Bed.' Sniper said again with force, like the Scout was a badly behaved dog he was sending out.

Miraculously it worked, the Scout stumbling drunkenly away again, cursing about Sniper under his breath.

Spy couldn't help a burst of helpless laughter once Scout was far enough away not to hear. He wasn't sure what was most ridiculous about this situation, but he was glad the tension faded as Scout left.

Sniper was sitting on the bed in complete frustration, his hair sticking up every which way. Spy was standing, slightly crouched, and rather cold, in the middle of the van. Sniper apparently played snap with his team instead of poker, which only added to the bizarre situation.

But Sniper clearly hadn't planned this. He'd looked as horrified as Spy. and quite grumpy to be interrupted. The mood had been killed, but Spy was alright with that for the moment, going to sit on the edge of the bed, still laughing.

Sniper bowed forward, head in hands and groaned. The groan turned into reluctant, relieved laughter that bubbled up and made his shoulders shake.

'Oh Christ, I thought that was us done for sure! Oh man. Oh shit.' He was breathless but still couldn't stop laughing. 'That door's not locked, all it would have taken was for him to turn the handle and... Christ. Can you imagine his face? Poor kid would have been scarred for life!'

Better to think about that rather than what would have happened to the two of them. Sniper felt relieved and annoyed and wound-up and buzzed and embarrassed all at the same time.

"Mon dieu," Spy gasped. He stood, legs still shaky, and locked the door. Sitting next to Sniper, he couldn't help laughing.

"You play snap?"

Sniper shrugged. 'We ran out of other card games to play a long time ago. You're looking at snap champion right here,' he said, pointing a thumb towards himself, 'Our Spy's been after my crown for a while though.'

Spy laughed. He leaned against Sniper again, grinning.

He'd convinced himself this would be the last time, but after sharing that scare, after laughing together like this, Spy felt as if there was nothing that would make him give this up. And he was almost positive Sniper felt the same.

And it didn’t take much to convince him to continue from where they’d left off.

'You want an orange?' Sniper asked afterwards, while they laid in a sprawl of limbs and tangled sheets. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Spy nodded lazily and said, "Though cigarettes are the traditional go-to at this point. Brought chocolates by the way." He pointed to his jacket. The little box in the breast pocket would be easy to find if Sniper could reach it.

Sniper dragged himself out of bed, motivated by chocolate. He filled up a glass of water for Spy first and left it next to the bed. Then he grabbed a couple of oranges and fished in the jacket for the chocolates. His fingers brushed against a closed butterfly knife. It reminded him who he was dealing with. He felt the weight of the wicked little weapon that had been used to kill him again and again and looked down at the blue jacket in his hands.

Sniper turned his head to face the Spy. The Spy's eyes were closed as he lay on his back completely naked, hair tousled, skin flushed.

How on earth could this be the same man who killed him every day? Then again, Sniper was secretly a vampire. He wasn't what anybody on either team thought he was. Only the Spy knew this side of him, as only he knew about this side of the Spy.

'Found 'em,' Sniper said, pulling out the small box of chocolates.

Spy opened his eyes and sat up to eat the orange. Sniper was still flushed, but he had a somewhat serious look about him now. Whatever it was he was thinking, it looked like it had brought him down a little.

Spy sipped his water and grabbed a chocolate from the box. He groaned around it. He wondered if Sniper was considering the end of this.

"You get your supplies this week," Spy said softly.

Sniper jolted. He'd settled back into being so deep into thought he'd almost forgotten the Spy was there.

'Yes,' he admitted. He didn't have the words to explain how desperately he wished that wasn't the case. Even though he needed those supplies. Even though he'd always known this was just temporary.

Instead Sniper popped one of the chocolates into his mouth. It tasted delicious but he barely noticed.

Spy slid closer to him, winding an arm around his waist, his cheek against Sniper's chest.

"That will make it easier," he said, coolly, as though it was assumed they would continue. "Then I can come on weekends instead of every four days." He hoped he sounded as confident as he was pretending to be.

Sniper blinked. Then a huge grin spread across his face. He tried to stifle it before the Spy saw but found himself struggling to.

'Yeah, that sounds like a sensible idea,' he said, as though there'd never been any doubt that this...whatever this was, would keep on going.

He ate another chocolate and this time couldn't fail to notice how sweet it tasted.

Spy chuckled, feeling a little thrill of happiness himself. Sniper seemed pleased with his idea. It was easy to fall asleep now, warm and safe in Sniper's arms.

Sniper pulled the covers over them, careful to throw aside the top couple of sheets. It was wonderful to be able to fall asleep without all of them, Spy's blood warming him from the inside and Spy's body warming him from the outside.

Chapter Text

Spy slept deeply. At first his dreams were soft and sensual, but he found he felt more and more fear coming through as he dreamt. He woke with a hiss in the dark, sitting up and slipping out of Sniper's tight grasp. Not sure if he'd woken him, he hesitated before heading outside to have a smoke. His heart was still beating fast and though he hardly remembered his dream by now, the unsettled feeling stuck with him.

It was cold outside, dawn still a ways away.

Sniper awoke feeling cold. He reached a hand out to find the bed was empty apart from him. For a moment, an odd feeling of loss stabbed at him. He pushed it aside to fill the void it left with annoyance. Bloody spook had left his van door open.

Spy was starting to get cold. He’d come out without getting dressed, not wanting to wake up Sniper. He sat on Sniper’s step, nearly finished his cigarette. As soon as he was done, he’d go back in, he told himself. Even though he’d be cold and likely that would wake Sniper up when he got back into bed.

Maybe he should just dress and leave.

Then he heard Sniper shift around inside the van and the pad of bare feet against the floor. Too late, he’d already woken him. He slid over on the step, making room for Sniper to sit next to him.

Sniper dragged a sheet out with him, not nearly as willing as the Spy to sit outside butt-naked. That was probably a bit of role-reversal, since he'd spent weeks at a time out in the bush by himself without anyone around to bother upholding common decency for, while the Spy was well-known for liking to stay covered up. Sniper blamed it on the cold.

The Spy still had one of his gloves on though, Sniper noticed. Odd man.

'Couldn't wait, had to have a cig before dawn?' Sniper asked with a crooked grin as he sat down next to the Spy and draped half the sheet over him.

Spy pressed in against Sniper under the sheet. Now that he was awake, he might as well steal his warmth. He offered Sniper his cigarette.

“Just couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

'Nah,' Sniper said, still grinning. 'I'm still asleep.'

He looked out across to his base. Every window was mercifully dark. 'Imagine if anyone looked out right now...'

“It’s too dark out to see anything,” Spy reassured him. He leaned his head on Sniper’s shoulder.

Sniper nodded, enjoying the simple companionship that came from having a person you were comfortable with lean against you. With as sharp a man as the Spy, it still felt fragile and rare to see his soft side. It was a vulnerable act, almost.

"We have something to discuss," Spy said, breathing out a cloud of smoke.

‘Yeah?’ Sniper replied, not liking the sound of this. It was too early for...whatever it was Spy wanted to discuss.

"No more healthpacks," Spy said, "no mercy on the battlefield. We can't be anything but enemies there."

'Of course,' Sniper said, relieved it wasn’t something worse. It was going to be difficult though. Long-range he might be alright, but up close kills were going to be worse than ever. And if he found the Spy bleeding out on the ground somewhere, Sniper didn't know how he could turn his back on him. He didn't know if he could.

"It's been harder," Spy admitted. Stabbing especially was more difficult, but he was a poor shot and guns were so noisy. "It helps to think of it as more of a game. We won't die, and everything is temporary. I've been guilty of avoiding you, which I must stop doing."

Sniper nodded, trying to hide how astonished he felt. The Spy could be so cold and cruel out there on the battlefield. Sniper would have never guessed that the Spy might be struggling to kill him just as much as he struggled to kill the Spy.

'Yes, that's a good way of looking at it.' And it'd work for the long range kills. For the close-up ones, he didn't think anything would. He reached over and squeezed Spy’s thigh. ‘How about we go back to bed now though?

Spy nodded and threw away the butt of his cigarette. Once back in bed, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get back to sleep so soon after a nightmare, but having spoken to Sniper, he found that feeling of being pursued was almost gone. The dream had faded and he felt safe again. He wrapped an arm around Sniper and nestled in close. Soon enough he was snoring quietly in the other man's bed.

Sniper couldn't help but smile. He was pretty sure Spy's weren't supposed to snore. It just wasn't a very Spy-ish thing to do. It was only a soft sound though, almost cute.

Sniper's smile faded. He was a trained killer, a monster. It wasn't right for him to get this attached to anyone, let alone an enemy. It could only lead to trouble. But he couldn't stand to let it go.

Spy woke the next morning, warm and wrapped tightly in Sniper’s arms, the RED’s heartbeat against his ear. He sighed. He’d have to be quick this morning to make it to battle, but it was worth it to wake up like this.

He slowly untangled himself from Sniper’s long limbs, sitting up and starting to get dressed. He had to try and comb down his wild hair so it would sit right under his mask, but it wouldn’t behave. He’d have to have a shower before he could get the mask to feel comfortable again.

'Mrpth?' Sniper said as movement woke him up. Through sleepy eyes he watched the Spy get changed, smirking good-naturedly when the Spy tried to tame his hair.

'I'd wish you good luck out there on the battlefield but I don't think my team would agree with me,' Sniper mumbled.

Spy bent over and kissed Sniper’s temple. “Merci, mon cher. Good luck to you too.”

Even though Sniper hadn’t actually wished him luck, he wanted to. That was enough. As soon as he was completely dressed, he went out and walked back to his own base, at a brisk pace.

He enjoyed a quick shower after sneaking back in. It didn’t take him too long to do his toilette, make himself look as though he hadn’t had a very lovely night off base with a lover. A RED lover.

This was so dangerous, but so wonderful. Spy couldn’t help but smile as he ran his fingers over the marks on his neck before pulling his mask down over them. They’d be tender all day, a nice reminder of their night together.

He was a little distracted through battle, often caught by Pyro before he got terribly far through the field. He did manage a few kills of the mumbling abomination. He got a few kills in on Sniper too, and it was just as much of a struggle as before, but he ignored the pangs and continued on. At this point, even if half of RED team hadn’t sworn him away from traps, he wouldn’t be using them anyway. It was rare that he felt regretful, but he didn’t like thinking about the first few traps he’d laid for Sniper.

Sniper had showered after the Spy left, desperate to rid himself of the Spy's lingering scent. Not because he disliked it, but because his team would lynch him if they realised he smelt like sex and the BLU Spy's cigarettes.

The first couple of kills the Spy got on him made him angry. Sniper reminded himself though that it was part of the job. And part of the deception. They needed to have deaths tallied down on each others' scoreboards or people would get suspicious.

That didn't stop him from allowing the Spy to live every now and then when he should have shot him. Damn it. Damn Spy. He really was making Sniper go soft.

Spy noticed he was still not getting shot by Sniper as often as usual, but that was alright. They both still killed each other at least a little, and they were still getting a fair amount of kills. He tried to keep an eye on the headshots Sniper got near him, but it was difficult when he could move across the field with his sights so much faster than Spy could run (or more accurately, jog, since he was not much of a runner).

It spoke of effort, at least, and Spy knew he wasn’t focusing on Sniper as much as he’d used to. Still, whenever he noticed the team needed to push through a place where the RED was getting numerous headshots, he would slink up to stab his lover in the back.

Sniper spent time after the match hanging out with Engineer and Demoman. They were always good to have a drink with and it helped distract him from the times he'd killed the Spy that day and the times he hadn't. He didn't know which were worse.

Things got awkward at one point though when Engineer made a joke at the BLU Spy’s expense. Sniper should have laughed. Instead he got offended for the Spy and very nearly snapped at Engineer. He managed to pass it off as having been distracted and not paying enough attention. He hoped he hadn't offended Engineer though. He was not a man anybody would want to offend.

Next morning, Sniper got up far earlier than normal. He had a quick wash in the sink, threw some clothes on and opened the curtains that faced away from the base. Then he waited. And waited, eyes fixed on the train track visible from that window. There was a tiny concrete station halfway between the two bases that the supply station would be pulling up at this morning and Sniper needed to get there first.

The second he heard the train approach, he leapt up from his bed and out the door. He jogged off towards the station, fingers crossed he wouldn't bump into anyone. The train was automated and would stay where it was for exactly an hour. No one ever arrived straight away, or at least, they didn't usually. It wasn't just the RED team Sniper had to worry about though, the BLU team's supplies arrived via the same train, just in separate compartments. Tampering with the other team's goods was one of the biggest taboos around but scraps between the two teams at the station weren't unheard of.

Sniper scanned the area as he approached. No sign of anyone else. Good. He pulled back the heavy compartment door and stepped up into the train. At the back, among all the crates, was a giant fridge next to an even larger freezer. Medic's supplies always arrived in those so that's exactly where Sniper's supplies would be.

He sorted hurriedly through the fridge until he found the blood bags. There were far more than he normally tried to sneak through the system. When he'd ordered this batch Sniper hadn't expected the Spy to keep his promise, let alone agree to keep on going with their arrangement, so he'd got as much blood as he thought he'd be able to get away with.

Sniper pulled a satchel from his shoulders and started to stuff the clear plastic bags in. There were too many. He scowled, rearranging to make things fit. Still too many, he couldn't close the bag properly. Oh well, it wasn't a long journey. He'd be fine. Hopefully.

With another furtive look around, Sniper headed off back towards his van, bag slung nonchalantly over the shoulder facing away from the base. Just in case.

He didn’t look back carefully enough.

Chapter Text

Spy did quite well with Friday’s battle. BLU team even won, which had been a struggle that week. He was glad it was over, anyway. Every time he came back from a night with Sniper he felt…off. Not bad, necessarily, just not his usual self; somewhere between hung over and just generally weak. And he’d been having an odd craving for ice, lately. He wasn’t sure what that was about, but he thought he might mention it to Sniper. Better not mention it to Medic. Especially if it was something vampire-related.

Once Friday’s battle was over and Spy had had his usual shower and a bit of dinner with the team, which he started to realize he’d been missing more often than not, he headed out to meet Sniper at his camper. He was in a good mood, even though he hadn’t managed to get anything new to bring to share. He was enjoying their tradition of giving each other a new treat whenever they could.

Spy knocked after listening outside the camper for a moment. Ever since Scout had almost barged in on them, he’d been a little more careful around the camper. He hadn’t really thought about Sniper’s teammates coming out to visit him, but apparently it wasn’t as rare as he’d thought.

Sniper's heart rate picked up at the sound of that knock. He had a fridge full of blood and half-expected Spy to never turn up again, despite what he’d said.

Spy slipped in with a gentle kiss on Sniper's cheek, already working his way out of his jacket and tie.

“You don’t need much blood tonight, do you?” he checked. Sniper nodded. “In that case, I’d like to go light on the venom if that’s alright with you. I want to see how little we can get away with and still have the same effect.” He’d been feeling a little off it just recently and wanted to make sure it wasn’t the venom’s fault.

‘That’s fine,’ Sniper said as the Spy settled down on the bed next to him, pulling up his mask. Sniper brushed his lips against the Spy's pulse and lightly scraped his fangs against the spot too, before sinking them in.

Just a little venom. It was hard to hold back from releasing more, his jaw aching, but he managed to.

Spy tensed against Sniper momentarily as the fangs broke the skin, then melted in against him. Sniper felt the goosebumps under his hands and felt a little shiver from the Spy.

Spy tried to repress the shiver. It made him nervous to move much while Sniper’s fangs were in him. Not only did he not want his own skin to tear, but he had no idea how delicate Sniper’s teeth were.

When he was done, Sniper carefully disengaged his fangs and licked the wound clean. His jaw still ached though, the pressure seeming to have increased rather than abated. He rubbed his thumb across one side of his top jaw and winced at the sensation.

'Uh, odd request, but you couldn't pass me one of those oranges, could you?' he asked, nodding his head towards the fruit bowl on the counter behind the Spy.

Spy felt the fangs come free a little more painfully than usual, a sharp pinch. He still felt good, but it seemed as though it hadn’t been enough to make him tingle or go numb the way it often did.

"Alright," Spy said, curiously, reaching over and handing and orange to Sniper. That had thrown him for a loop.

Sniper accepted the orange with a sheepish shrug and then sank his top two fang into it. It probably looked really stupid but as soon as his teeth split through the skin he allowed his venom to drain into it. It was an odd trick he'd picked up for himself when his venom sacs became swollen and painful from having no one to bite.

He unhooked his fangs again and said, 'Sorry, just had to get rid of some more venom,' before putting the orange aside. 'Just don't eat that one afterwards unless you want to get really really high.'

Sniper had tried it once but disappointingly the only effect it had had for him was to make the orange taste funny.

Spy watched with fascination as Sniper bit the orange, and found himself wondering for an odd moment if there was such thing as vampire oranges. It was strange to watch Sniper bite instead of feeling it. He’d never seen Sniper sink his fangs into anything, it occurred to him. He was glad things like that didn’t bother him, an uncomfortable reaction would probably upset the RED.
“I didn’t realize you could have too much,” Spy said, looking at Sniper’s fangs once he pulled them out.

'It kind of builds up and feels uncomfortable if you don't get rid of it,' Sniper explained.

“Would you mind if I touched them?” Spy had been curious about it since he’d first seen them. He had to admit he was also curious about how much the orange would affect him if he ate it, but he was a little terrified of ending up completely paralyzed again. That had been horrifying.

The Spy's request puzzled Sniper. It was like asking to touch a needle. It didn't bother him though. He tipped his head back and opened his mouth a little, feeling strangely like he'd just sat down at the dentist's.

Spy touched the closest fang carefully, just with the tip of his finger, but it was far sharper than he’d expected. It sliced clean through the leather of his glove and into his finger and he withdrew with a hiss and an embarrassed grin. They were so much smaller than any fantasy vampires he’d seen in movies. Maybe more sensible, though.

'Sorry!' Sniper said, eyes wide. He hadn't been expecting the Spy to be foolish enough to poke the point of one of them or he would have warned him off of it.

Seeing blood bubble up on the pad of the Spy's finger, Sniper leant forward instinctively and swiped his tongue across the supple leather of the Spy's glove.

Spy shrugged, it had been his own fault. He hadn’t thought it would be sharp enough to go straight through the gloves. “No apologies necessary.”

He watched Sniper lick the blood. Unfortunately he was sure his finger would get a bit stuck to his glove now. If it weren't his bad hand, he would've taken the glove off in an instant. The feeling spread a heat through him, and he pushed Sniper back onto the bed. He bent down and mouthed at Sniper's neck, kissing and nibbling.

Sniper grinned as he was pushed back onto the bed. It had been a surprise, but one he approved of.

And the attention to his throat too. There was just that little edge of danger that came with someone having their teeth at your throat, even if they were just human teeth.

"Maybe I should bite back," Spy teased.

'Yes!' Sniper said. He'd been trying to get the Spy to give him a proper bite since their first encounter but had never been able to bring himself to ask directly for it.

Spy laughed at Sniper’s eagerness. He grazed his teeth down the side of Sniper’s neck before sinking his teeth into his skin, tugging back a little.

In reaction to the bite, Sniper’s muscles seemed to relax one by one. He collapsed down onto the bed, his head spinning.

'Oh wow, that's it,' Sniper murmured, blinking up at the ceiling in a daze. ‘'That's it, you win. You win. You're in charge. You win. I surrender.'

Spy felt Sniper melt under him, muscles loose and relaxed. “I win?” he chuckled, sitting up a little. Sniper’s reaction had been satisfying but a little odd, in the way he seemed limp and exhausted all of a sudden. “What do I win?” he asked.

Sniper blinked, trying to pull his thoughts together enough to answer. 'You win,' he repeated numbly. 'Anything you want,' Sniper managed after another moment. A flicker of nerves washed through him but his body stayed limp.

The enemy vampire had won. He was in charge. Sniper's fate was entirely down to him.

Sniper blinked, trying to shake that thought off. No, he was in bed with the Spy. If anything happened he didn't want to, he was allowed to say so. This man wasn't his enemy. Well, he was, but Sniper trusted him all the same.

“Are you alright?" Spy asked. What has been an amusing reaction to begin with was starting to concern him. Sniper looked dazed, like he’d been drugged.

'Sssorry,' Sniper said, his voice coming out slurred. 'Jus...jus a minute.' He tried pulling himself up into a sitting position but collapsed back down again.

He was fine, definitely fine. The bite had just had much more of an impact than he'd expected. "What's wrong?" Spy's worry came through in his voice. Sniper was acting very strange, and he couldn't help feeling as though he'd done something bad, had done something to hurt Sniper without knowing. He wasn't sure he ought to touch him, but seeing him struggle to sit up, he sat next to him and helped pull him up so he could lean against his enemy-turned-lover.

Sniper was cursing himself for ruining the mood and leaving Spy concerned. He welcomed the contact and the reassurance it brought but couldn't bring himself to look at the Spy.

'I'm sorry. My fault.'

Experimentally he flexed his fingers, finding movement slowly returning. He rested his head on the Spy's shoulder as he waited to be able to pull himself back together again. After a minute or so he gave talking another go.

'Sorry,' he repeated. 'Underestimated that.' Sniper tried to work out how to explain it. 'It's a vampire thing. A way of resolving disputes. The most dangerous thing to a vamp is another vamp so it’s an inbuilt reaction to stop things escalating. Whoever gets a proper bite on the other wins the fight immediately. Apparently it’s how more aggressive clans keep order. In more civil ones like mine was, letting the clan leader bite you is how you prove your loyalty and trust in them.’

Something clicked as Sniper explained and Spy let out a little breath. “This happened once before, when we were fighting,” he said.

Sniper nodded. 'And it's kind of like that one time when I used too much venom on you, except not as long-lasting.'

He slowly let himself collapse back down, still feeling the heavy weight of the bite’s effects but safe in the knowledge he was no longer paralysed. ‘Damn that’s made me feel tired though.’

‘That’s alright,’ Spy said, disappointed that it looked as though things might not progress tonight, but still pleasantly buzzed from the small amount of venom Sniper had used.

He lazily reached for an orange (not the one left on the counter, despite his curiosity) and unpeeled it. He popped a wedge into Sniper's mouth, before eating another himself.

Sniper had never allowed anybody to place food in his mouth since he was a baby. And according to the embarrassing stories his mum loved to tell, he'd never been keen on it then either.

There was just something so oddly vulnerable about it. And something almost romantic. In his current state though, Sniper didn't mind at all. He chewed the orange slice contentedly, the sweet, tart flavour far more pronounced than normal thanks to the small amount of fresh blood he’d had..

He decided to just close his eyes for a moment. Just a moment.

Spy looked up from the orange in surprise when he heard gentle snoring. Sniper couldn’t possibly have fallen asleep already, could he? Really?

Apparently so. He gently pushed Sniper over onto the other pillow, getting up to turn off the light. Glancing at Sniper, he took off his glove, removed his prosthetics and stretched his hand for a few minutes. Sniper had worked hard out there today, even if he hadn’t got many kills on Spy. Or maybe he’d worked extra hard to make up for the fact.

It was strange being awake and secretive in Sniper's home, and seeing Sniper completely passed out, his usual alertness eased into something softer. He reminded Spy of a sleeping dog, so far under that he wouldn't even raise his head if someone came to the door.

He was really coming to like Sniper, as much as he'd resisted. He was just so charmingly awkward, and fun. Handsome too, in a rough and tumble sort of way.

The prosthetics were back on in a minute, then the glove. Spy lay next to Sniper and kissed his forehead. It was far earlier than he’d intended to settle down for the night, but he didn’t want to wake Sniper, or slip away now and leave him to wake up alone in the morning, thinking Spy had left in disgust at the lack of action.

Or maybe he just couldn’t bring himself to leave.

Sniper awoke next morning feel sleepy and warm, the BLU Spy fast asleep next to him. The BLU's face look drawn, as though something was worrying him even while he slept. Or perhaps he was having a bad dream.

Sniper reached out a hand and lightly stroked it through the Spy's hair, trying to soothe whatever was bothering him without waking him.

Realising how sappy and tender that was, Sniper withdrew his hand. The Spy was fine and he'd probably just rib Sniper for being such a girl for doing that.

Spy was curled up tight, one of his arms drawn up over his head. His face tensed as Sniper’s fingers brushed through his hair. Once his eyelashes fluttered open, he glanced up at Sniper. He groaned and buried his face against Sniper’s chest. His head hurt. His mouth was dry and for some reason he felt more exhausted than he had before he’d fallen asleep.

'Did you drink any water last night?' Sniper asked. Things got a bit fuzzy for him and he couldn't remember if they'd both fallen asleep together or if he'd fallen asleep first.

He felt guilty about that. It was his duty to make sure his human partner was looked after after a bite.

Sniper shook his head. “I forgot.”

'Come on, let's get you something.' Sniper careful extracted himself from the Spy, sad to be leaving the bed.

He grabbed the Spy a glass of water and some vitamin tablets first and after passing those over, scooped up an orange and a banana out of the fruit bowl and gave those to the Spy as well. He rooted around for a bag of trail mix he'd put together himself full of nuts and seeds and dried fruit and little shards of dark chocolate. After that he stepped back to think what he was missing. Ah, dairy.

He double-checked the milk in the fridge was in-date before pouring out a glass of it and setting it on the counter by the bed.

Spy laughed dryly. “Breakfast in bed, such luxury.” He was unsettled by how easily he wanted to trust Sniper’s offerings. He didn’t like to eat things unless he was sure he could make sure they were safe, but he’d taken so much from Sniper and been safe. And as Sniper pointed out to him before, he basically came here to be poisoned by him.

Drinking the water, he gave Sniper a quirked eyebrow as he took the tablets, not sure what they were or why he was being given them. He felt like he had a hangover, sure, but what would these do?

Seeing the Spy's quizzical expression, Sniper explained, 'All this stuffs good for blood loss. Would have been better for you to have some if it last night but uh, I think I fell asleep...'

He sat down on the edge of the bed and dug a hand into the trail mix bag. He loved that stuff.

“You were asleep within thirty seconds of closing your eyes,” Spy retorted, reluctantly swallowing the pills and picking a bit of chocolate out of the trail mix.

'I'm sorry! I don't know wh–hmm, wait, you bit me didn't you?' Sniper asked. Then he noticed what Spy was doing. 'Oi, you can't just pick the chocolate bits out, that's cheating!'

“Yes, I bit you,” Spy said, munching on chocolate pieces without remorse. “I didn’t expect the effect to be so strong.” Or so strange.

Sniper laughed. 'Neither did I! Honestly, until you bit me that first time I didn't even know a human could have that effect on a vampire. I wonder if it's 'cos you're kind of from a rival 'clan' as it were. Or maybe it's just because humans are so similar it tricks a vamp's brain into thinking we're been bitten by another vamp. Definitely doesn't work with deer bites, I can tell you that.'

Spy made a disgusted face. “You’ve been bitten by deer?” He knew, of course, that Sniper hunted, and he was sure now that he drank the blood of whatever he caught. Which was disgusting. But he hadn’t considered that deer might bite. They seemed passive. That being said, Spy didn’t exactly have any experience trying to bite deer.

He was glad to have a glass of water nearby. His voice was a little hoarse and he was sure the water would help with the throbbing in his head. He had that tingling feeling again, but this time up his legs instead of in his fingers. That was new; the bite side effects had never lasted this long before.

Sniper snorted. 'Yeah. I mean, they aren't actually particularly bitey animals but when they're thrashing around and you're trying to get your teeth into them, sometimes you end up getting caught by their teeth instead.’

Spy nodded. He didn’t know much about deer but he guessed that made some kind of sense.

'I, uh...' Sniper coughed awkwardly, ' I've got another deer confession. Just don't judge me on this one.'

Spy raised an eyebrow, trying not to choke on his water. “Dare I ask?” Surely it was just something silly? Otherwise he doubted Sniper would be admitting it to him. He wouldn’t give him that sort of confession, they were still enemies.

He leaned back against the pillows, suddenly very aware that for all that they were enemies, they were still sitting in bed together, sharing breakfast, and chatting.

Not something Spy usually enjoyed with his enemies. At least, not like this.

Sniper buried his head in his hands to hide his red face, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

'Oh god, it's awful. A real testament to what my life's become or something. But that said it's not as bad as it sounds, I swear. It's just that–' Sniper coughed to clear his throat. 'Deer make me horny.'   

Spy was very glad he hadn’t been drinking anything when Sniper finally came out with that. He burst out laughing. He’d been too polite to mention anything, but he’d noticed from their trysts that Sniper always wanted to bite him before they got up to anything and had wondered if fresh blood might be a requirement for him.

“Oh, oh Sniper,” he tried to compose himself, still laughing. “Please, never tell anyone else that.”

'I won't, I won't!' Sniper assured him. 'It's my darkest secret, that. God it's unfortunate. But I hunt deer you see, helps with the whole vamp thing. It's not like human blood, it can't sustain you, you know, not properly. But I can get a lot of it in one sitting and that just... that has a peculiar effect on male vamps, apparently. And now every time I see a deer, it's like some bloody Pavlovian reaction. Though unless I've had a decent amount of blood recently nothing embarrassings gonna happen. But all the same, deer! There's kinky, and then there's that!'

Sniper shook his head in exasperation, face still red. He'd got the Spy laughing though and that was what was important. He seemed a little more quiet than usual this morning. A little paler too.

“I knew you hunted them, or, I assumed it was deer anyway, in those woods,”

He had just skirted around the edge of bring up his week of stalking Sniper. They didn’t usually mention how they’d gotten along before, or how far Spy had gone in battle. It was just sort of an awkward gap that they both conveniently avoided. Talking about fighting might lead to talking about what they were now, and Spy wasn’t sure what that would bring out, or if either of them would like it.

Spy slid over on the bed, patting the space next to him. He was getting cold already and he didn’t intend to leave immediately. Might as well stay warm against Sniper.

Sniper took Spy up on the offer, settling in against him and stealing a little more of the trail mix. 'It could be worse,’ he pointed out.

‘Could be pigeons.'

Chapter Text

'Drink your milk. Good for the bones, that is,' Sniper said with a smile.

Spy rolled his eyes, but took the glass anyway. “It’s been a long time since anyone has babied me as much as you do.”

He nestled in against Sniper quite happily, munching and drinking for awhile. He did start to feel a little better, his headache subsiding to a slight dizziness. The tingling in his legs didn’t change, and he rubbed the heel of his palm down over his thigh with a slight frown. Sniper had only used a little venom last night. So what was going on here?

Sniper shut his mouth with a frown. Damn, he had been caught out being sappy. 'You okay there?' Sniper asked, noticing the expression on Spy’s face. A moment later he wondered if that counted as babying too.

“Fine. I usually feel tingly after being bitten, but not usually in the morning,” he said. “I’m sure it’ll fade.” He caught Sniper’s upset face when he teased him and stroked a hand up his arm. “It’s alright, I wasn’t complaining.” It was actually nice, to be fussed over. He knew Sniper didn’t think of him as a child or an invalid. Sniper took care of him because he wanted to, and the thought of that made his chest feel tight and warm.

Sniper huffed and folded his arms but after that he started to cheer up again.

He pressed himself closer against the Spy. It gave him some interesting thoughts but if the Spy wasn't feeling great this morning he decided he should probably try thinking of something else. Preferably not deer.

Spy let his fingertips graze over the inside of Sniper’s elbow, down his arm. He traced a little scar on his forearm, lingered over the sensitive skin of his wrist, then twined their fingers together.

Fuck, what was he doing, this was bad. This was poorly planned and a terrible idea and he wanted nothing more than to stay in bed all day with Sniper. He kept his expression completely neutral, but his head swam briefly.

Sniper watched with amused curiosity as the Spy's hand snaked cautiously along his arm. To hold his hand. Fingers entwined.

Sniper stared,  stunned. He didn't know how to feel about this. He didn't know what to do.

He was a highly trained assassin and a vampire. But neither of those things set him up for knowing what to do about hand holding.

Sniper decided that in that case, the best thing to do would be ignore it. Pretend he somehow hadn't noticed. As if that was possible.

Spy sighed through his nose, head leaning against Sniper’s shoulder. He was stuck between two warring feelings, of wanting to run and never return, and of wanting to stay here, in bed, with Sniper. Possibly all day.

God, how had he gotten himself into this?

Sniper wasn't sure what he was supposed to do next. He couldn't stay here, pretending not to be holding hands with the enemy Spy forever. But he didn't have anything else he'd rather be doing right now. Apart from maybe eating more trail mix but that seemed like it would spoil the moment a bit.

Spy slid his hand away, sitting up. “I should go.”

He pulled himself to the edge of the bed, grabbing the clothes he’d discarded when he first entered the van and starting to dress himself. His legs still tingled and he had a feeling walking back to BLU base was going to be a pain.

‘You don’t have to,’ Sniper said, hoping he didn’t sound needy. He cast about for a reason for him to stay. 'Did I ever properly explain how I, you know, ended up like this?' Secrets. Spies liked secrets.

"I assume you mean how you became a vampire?" Spy asked, pausing with his tie half done. "Not the particulars, non. I thought it might be too personal."

'Oh no, I meant how I ended up the sexiest man on earth,' Sniper said. He chuckled at his own bad joke. 'Dunno about 'personal' really. Bit rough maybe, but that's life for you.'

"I would happily listen to either of those stories," Spy replied, pulling his tie back off and moving back to sit next to Sniper. He was keen to hear more of Sniper's history; for all that they knew secrets about each other, they also knew very little about each other. No names, no history, just titles and what they could figure out.

Sniper scratched his stubble as he tried to work out how best to tell his story.

'Hmm, so, right, I'd gone walkabout out in the bush for a little while. Nothing too stupid; had plenty of supplies and knew exactly where I was. On my third day out there I found some footprints. Human footprints, 'least that's what I assumed at the time. Started following them 'cos they meandered all over the pace and looked as though who'd ever come through this way was woozy and off-balance. Thought I might have come across the tracks of some stupid fella who'd gone out into the outback without proper supplies and thought I'd better do the decent thing and try and find him. Couldn't just go leaving a bloke out there to die, even if I do get paid to off people.

'It was getting dark by the time I thought I was getting close. There were signs the guy had taken shelter among some rocks during the day and it looked as though he must have just set off again, though I couldn't see anybody about. Followed the footprints between another big set of rocks, the type that loom right up on either side of you, when I spotted they ended with one last dusty print on the side of the rock.

'Don't know how exactly, but that's when I knew. Call it bushman's intuition or something like that, but I knew then. Knew I'd walked myself straight into a trap.'

Spy was pretty sure this was the most words he'd ever heard out of Sniper, and he guessed maybe even more than his teammates had ever heard. He nodded as Sniper paused, not wanting to interrupt him. When Sniper's fingers stopped scratching, Spy's took over, gently running his fingernails over his stubble. Once his fingers got a bit tender from the abrasive stubble, he dug his fingers in Sniper’s neck and shoulders carefully, easing the knots out of his muscles.

Sniper let out an appreciative hum at the treatment. With all the time he spent hunched over his rifle, his back, neck and shoulders were always stiff.

'And then...' he said, trying to remember where he'd left off. 'And then it just went for me. Pretty sure I knew it wasn't human from the first moment I saw it. Had clothes on like a person. Was roughly person shaped too. But just... wrong. Pale, peeling skin. Pupils like a snake or a cat. Mouth full of needles and claws instead of nails. It just went for me. Pounced right on top of me, knocking me into the rock wall opposite. Almost knocked me out entirely, that did.

'Can't really remember much of the what happened next. to be honest. It's a bit of a blur. The feral managed to sink its teeth into my arm though.' Sniper tapped his upper left arm. 'It's healed mostly but you can see some faint marks here. It's nothing like been bitten by a normal vamp. No neat little bites, just needles ripping into your skin.'

Spy frowned briefly at the scar. It did look like it had been deep. He'd noticed it before and hadn't been able to guess what had bitten Sniper. He'd assumed it was a bite, but he was no expert on bite marks.

He kept up the massage, after dipping his hand down to feel the indents of the scar. He could see why Sniper was afraid of becoming something like that.

Sniper had been worried that if he told the Spy any of this he'd be too freaked out by the whole feral business to want to come near him again. The continued contact did wonders for his self confidence, as well as his aching muscles.

'Every vamp's venom has a different effect. Can't remember if I've told you that already. Well, this feral's venom pretty much sent me blind, it made me hallucinate so badly. The entire world turned to radiating neon lines bouncing off every surface. Couldn't make out a bloody thing through it. Thought I was dying or going insane or maybe both.

'Did my best to fight back but for such a skinny bugger, that thing was strong. Got me pinned down and too damn tired to move. Started feeding on me...' Sniper paused, a far-off, haunted look in his eyes.

Spy could feel Sniper's pulse pick up under his fingers, could see the thousand-yard stare and knew what it meant. He slid his free arm under Sniper to squeeze him. Besides continuing what he was doing, he wasn't sure what he could do to comfort the RED without interrupting him. The massage would help a little, he hoped. Plus, Sniper's neck and shoulders were incredibly tense.

He wanted to hear this, to know it, but he also didn't want to end up with an unhappy Sniper.

Sniper shook his head and blinked, bringing his focus back to the subject at hand. 'Yeah, that wasn't much fun. Messy. Very messy. And it started making these...noises. Not a peep out of it until then and then it started.... kind of moaning.' Sniper shivered. 'But it wasn't a human sound, not really. It was so damn bloody creepy that it helped me get over the shock because I didn't know what the hell was happening but I bloody well knew I wanted it to stop.

'That's when I finally pulled myself together enough to remember my kukri. Same one I still use on the battlefield, actually. The feral didn't care if I was shifting a bit under it, all it cared about was blood. So I pulled my kukri free and slammed it down on that bastard's back. It nearly ripped my throat out flinching away but I just kept on hacking at it. At any bit of it I could reach, even if it meant risking slicing myself up too.

'Killed it. Eventually.'

At least Sniper had had some way to defend himself, Spy thought. If it weren't for that kukri, the same one Spy had so often cursed, Sniper would likely be dead.

"How did you manage after that?" He must have lost so much blood.

Sniper gave him a wry smile. 'Didn't. Passed out pretty much as soon as I'd managed to pull myself free. Woke up who knows how long afterwards in a nice clean bed in the middle of a room I'd never seen before. And fuck, did everything hurt. Felt like I was being scorched alive from the inside out. Never been so thirsty or confused in my life.'

"Your vampire clan," Spy assumed.

'Ahuh. They'd set off after the feral as soon as they'd worked out he'd gone rogue. Just bad luck I caught up with it before they did.

'Honestly, some days I still feel surprised that they didn't just kill me then and there. I was a total stranger, bleeding out, who'd killed someone who'd once been a mate of theirs. They could have just finished me off or left me there and I wouldn't have blamed them.

'But my clan... they're kind of like the hippies of the vampire world, I guess. They have all kinds of ideas about peace and coexistence and shit.' Sniper snorted, well aware that as a mercenary he hadn't deserved their pity, nor did he fit in with their ethos at all.

'By the time I came around, the change had already started to set in. The feral had been an old vamp, old enough to start the change but its venom wasn't potent enough to complete it with one bite. They clued me in on what was happening; explained I had two options. Either I could become one of them and accept the life and rules that came with it, or they'd help me on my way as mercifully as they could. Not much of a choice really.'

“No, not at all,” Spy agreed, digging his thumb in under Sniper’s shoulder blade and working out a particularly tense knot. “And so you lived with them for a time?”

It was amazing that Sniper had survived the attack alone, let alone had been found by the right people.

'Yeah. After I'd finished the change. That took...days. Not sure how long exactly. Kind of lost track of things. Couldn't really eat or sleep, everything hurt so much.' Sniper rubbed his hands against his eyes and then kept them there, partially covering his face. It muffled his voice but made things easier to tell someone about this.

'Imagine the worst pain you've been in in your life and then quadruple it. Vamps and Humans don't look much different, but there's so much internal shit that's nothing alike. Far as I understood it, my cells were basically liquidising or something. The pain... yeah, the pain was bad. By that point you'll do anything, anything at all to make it stop. I cried, legitimately cried like a baby some of the times I was bitten because those were the only moments when the pain faded away, even a little.

'I don't remember much of what went on to be honest, just bits and pieces. I remember the old matriarch, this damn powerful, ancient woman who ruled the clan all by herself, stroking my hair like I was some little child who'd just had a nightmare.

'I remember begging someone to bite me again even though they'd used up all their venom already. Pretty sure I punched them over that and all but it can't have done much damage.

'And I remember the effect this one guy's venom had on me... Damn, I'd never wanted something so much in my life. Never wanted someone so much. I guess it was a good distraction from the pain though. Would have happily chopped off my own arm if you'd have told me that was the only way to make it stop.'

Spy listened, silently. It seemed like Sniper was confessing to a lot more than craving venom and relief from pain. ‘Never wanted someone so much’ definitely sounded more intimate.

“I’m glad you had your clan,” Spy slid his fingers up to Sniper’s temples after Sniper dropped his hands from his eyes. Of course his glasses would often make him ache. Not to mention staring down a scope for hours.

Sniper gave another happy hum. He should tell the Spy his life story more often if it meant he'd get this kind of treatment in return. There'd been many a time where he'd straightened up after a long day hunched over his rifle and wished he had someone to dig their fingers into his sore muscles.

'Me too,' he said. 'Weird bunch but they did right by me. Looked after me, taught me, warned me...'

"Mmm," Spy murmured, focusing more on the massage than his own response. He felt... oddly humbled that Sniper had told him this. Not only his history, but that strange and intimate secret of his attraction and lust for that other vampire. Perhaps that had been the first time he'd been sexually interested in another man? There was something deeper under what he'd said.

At the same time he felt a stab of guilt. He'd offered no such honesty to Sniper.

Chapter Text

"I feel as though I should tell you a story now," Spy said, trying to make light of it.

'Hmm? Really?' Sniper said with interest, pulling away so he could look at Spy properly.

He hadn't been expecting anything in return. Especially not when that had just been him getting some truths about himself off his chest that he'd never been able to tell anyone before.

He suddenly felt nervous and almost wanted to tell the Spy to keep his stories to himself. For all that he was naked, it was this truth telling that seemed too vulnerable, too exposing all of a sudden.

Sniper knew from experience how binding secrets could be.

Sniper's tangible shift in mood set Spy on edge. He didn't want to hear Spy's history. Maybe it was strange to know what your dinner had done before it met you.

Spy laughed softly, "I wasn't planning on telling you state secrets, tireur. I would be happy either way." He worked his gloved hand up Sniper's neck to massage at the base of his skull.

'Huh, maybe I already know all your state secrets,' Sniper said, trying to lighten the mood again. 'Maybe I steal them while I'm taking your blood.'

In truth he was very curious about the Spy's past, it just felt like it wasn't something a Spy should talk about. It was like waking up one day to find out that Pyro was afraid of fire or Soldier had decided he wasn't all that keen on America anymore. It just felt so out of place with what he already knew of the guy.

Spy laughed. Sniper was at least comfortable enough around him to show his sense of humour. "I don't think you are a good enough liar to have kept that from me," he chuckled. "If you don't mind, I do have one more question." Spy pulled Sniper closer so he could work his thumbs against his temples.

"When did you learn to shoot?"

'Huh, that makes it sound like there's one point in my life when I learnt how to but I can't say that's exactly true. Way I see it, I'm still learning. There's always room to improve you know, even with my sparkling record.

'If your asking when I started to learn... hmm. Ten. Yes, must have been. My Dad said you had to hit double digits before you could touch a gun. Didn't stop me of course but kept me out of too much trouble.'

“I assumed you started young,” Spy nodded. “I can’t imagine you still learning. I’ve seen you shoot Scout out of midair, more than once.”

'Oh, you've seen that have you?' Sniper asked, trying and failing to keep the delight out of his voice.

'Well you know what they say about practice...'

Spy laughed again, softly. “Oh, you don’t get praised often, do you?” he teased. “I’ve seen a lot of shooting in my life, but you are by far one of the best.” He pressed his lips to the Australian’s shoulder.

Sniper blinked, uncertain on how to respond. No, he certainly didn't get praised much. Didn't need it. He knew he was good at his job, so what need did he have of other peoples' opinions.

The Spy's compliments left him feeling kind of giddy though. Maybe this was why Scout was always trying get attention for himself, maybe it left him with the same kind of emotion.

'So this story of yours...' Sniper said when he couldn't think of any sensible way to reply without giving away how easily the Spy's praise had affected him.

Spy had assumed that offer was off the table. Now he had to think of one. Something safe, but interesting. Hm, maybe it was best to leave it to Sniper, he probably had questions he could ask. But what if he asked something that was off limits?

“What would you like to know?” he purred, leaning further into Sniper until finally laying in his lap, looking up expectantly for attention.

Sniper's mind went blank. That kind of posturing and that tone of voice didn't seem like one suited to story time. It was rather distracting. Welcome, but distracting.

'I-uh.' Everything Sniper thought of was a question the Spy likely wouldn't answer. He settled on something safe. 'Best childhood memory?'

How was it that Sniper could surprise him so easily? He knew the man was sweet, not exactly suave, but genuinely good. How on earth had this man become an assassin?
Looking up at Sniper thoughtfully, he stroked the RED’s chest for awhile.
“I don’t know how familiar you are with holiday traditions in France,” Spy said, “but on Smissmas Eve, most families have a seven course meal, which is eaten at midnight. And it’s supposed to be made the day before, so no one has to do any work on Christmas Eve. But my family always made our food on the day. My parents and I would spend most of the day in the kitchen.”

'A seven course meal?' Sniper, voice giving away his astonishment. He'd thought three course meals were a bit much. What could you even have for a fourth or fifth course, let alone a sixth and seventh?

Spy laughed. Of course that would be the part that surprised him. “Barbarian. Maybe I’ll cook something for us one weekend, then you’ll understand.”

He was tempted to close his eyes; Sniper’s thigh was surprisingly comfortable to lay his head on. “How about you? What’s your best childhood memory?”

Man, that sounded really ni-no no no no. No. They couldn't do that. It was too... relationshippy. Even if it did give him amusing images of the Spy in a frilly apron.

Glad of the distraction, Sniper cast around for a suitable memory. The Spy's own story prompted him.

'Smissmas day when I was eight-years-old. M’ parents gave me a little toy dog which was nice and all, but not quite what I'd been hoping for. I tried to be enthusiastic though because we didn’t have a lot of money so anything was better than nothing and I didn’t want to disappoint them. But then they brought my real present out of hiding: a puppy. My own puppy.' A smile spread across Sniper's face at the memory. 'Pretty sure I cried to be honest.'

"I did have you pegged as an animal lover," Spy chuckled. Imagining a young Sniper playing with a puppy gave him that terrible tight feeling in his chest.

"I never had any dogs, just cats,” he said. “The neighbours had dogs, we'd take them out hunting sometimes."

‘Cats are good too. Never understood why everyone wants you to pick a side. That dog though, Ratter, he was a right bugger when he was little. Always chasing cats. He got the message eventually though after one swipe to the nose too many.

'What kind of hunting did you do?' Probably pheasant shooting or something posh like that.

"Whatever we could find. It was all poaching, so mostly rabbits. I'm sure you did your share of hunting too," Spy prompted.

Huh, poaching. Sniper hadn't pegged the Spy as the type. Then again, he was sneaky little man and who knows what kind of past he might have had? Still, it brought down Sniper's assumptions of mansions and horse-drawn carriages.

'Yep. Always just what I needed to survive when going walkabout though. There's lots of dangerous  animals out in the bush but as long as I wasn't hungry and they weren't attacking me I generally tried to leave well-alone.'

"What, no wrestling crocodiles?" Spy teased, "No boxing angry kangaroos? How sensible of you."

The Australian pastime of fighting dangerous animals made no sense to Spy and he was glad his Australian seemed to agree with him.

Sniper chuckled. 'Nah, I'm not that kind of Australian.'

"Walkabout is living off the land, yes? How long did you live like that?" That side of the culture was interesting to him. It was a curious rite of passage and Spy was sure he wouldn't have survived it.

'Hard to say really. I did it on and off. It's best not to try and spend too long out there all on your lonesome. I'd just spend a few days out there sometimes, a couple of weeks others. Longest was about a month I think but I got a nasty infection near the end of that and by that point I was so far away from civilisation I barely made it back again. Tried to be a bit more sensible after that.'

"A month," Spy sounded incredulous. "That's a long time. I know you're not much for people, but really," he smiled as he said it though.

The tingling in Spy's legs suddenly sharpened into pins and needles and he tensed, keeping his expression flat.

Sniper made a puzzled, curious sound in the back of his throat. The Spy had been lounging on him like a happy cat and then suddenly tensed. Had he remembered somewhere he should be? Or a bad memory? Or simply got cramp?

Spy willed himself to relax. It would fade soon. It had to eventually. It took awhile before he could lounge back into Sniper the way he had before.

Sniper had clearly noticed; it was hard to hide something like that from someone you're physically laying on. "My leg is asleep," he explained.

Sniper laughed quietly and reached out a free hand to rub at the Spy's legs. 'Where?'

Sniper hated that pins and needles feeling but it still amused him that the Spy had reacted to it so much.

Spy bit back a hiss, squirming away from Sniper's hand. The sensation was somewhere between static and pain and touch made it worse. Maybe it would help it fade faster but he couldn't help flinching away from it.

Sniper snatched his hand back. 'Sorry! Sorry!' He'd only been trying to help but it looked as though he'd just made things worse. He'd always had a real knack for doing that.

Spy groaned, patting Sniper's hand reassuringly.
"No apology necessary, tireur," he assured him. "It won't last."
He leaned back against Sniper and stretched out to help encourage the blood back into his legs. Grabbing the RED's hand, he kissed his knuckles. There were little scars on his hands, and Spy traced them with his fingertips.

Sniper wasn't consciously aware of how important that little bit of contact was in reassuring him he hadn't ruined everything, but it made him relax all the same. It also made him wonder what he'd done to deserve such... such. What would you call this? Care? Tenderness? Love?

Sniper skirted away from thinking that over anymore. It was too intimidating a concept.

He brushed his fingers against the Spy's lips, wondering if the BLU might be up for some more fooling around. He did look rather tired still though. Pale. Maybe he just needed some more rest.

Spy hummed against Sniper's fingers, closing his eyes briefly at the soft touch across sensitive skin. He sighed slowly. Besides the tingling ache, he wouldn't have changed a thing about this moment.

How did he feel so safe with someone he knew so little about, someone who wasn't even human?

Even though he’d planned on leaving not that long ago, and had only woken up a short while before then, Spy found himself burying himself back into Sniper’s covers. Sniper chuckled but didn’t comment, simply laid down next to him, stroking fingers through his hair.

Spy drifted off, in and out of sleep. He nestled in against Sniper whenever the man's hair-stroking flagged, pressing for attention.

Sniper drifted in and out of sleep too, stroking the Spy's hair whenever he realised he'd stopped. Something about the edge of neediness amused him because it made him think of a cat that wanted you to keep scratching it behind the ear. At the thought, Sniper's fingers trailed behind one of the Spy's ears, stroking circles into the hair there. His fingers brushed against something slightly odd. He traced what felt like a raised scar curiously.

Spy leaned into the fingers, barely awake. That old scar was always itchy, long after he thought it should have stopped bothering. He sighed, pressing his nose into Sniper's neck. If only Sniper would use his fingernails... Spy twisted a bit against the gentle touch, rubbing back against it.

Sniper had intended to pull away once he'd identified the scar. The Spy struck him as the kind of man to abhor imperfections, especially in himself. When the Spy started pushing his head back against Sniper's hand though, Sniper hoped he was reading the signal right and responding correctly by running his fingers more firmly against the scarred patch of skin just behind the Spy's ear.

"Mmmm," he groaned. "Itchy," he explained, voice rough from sleep. "You'd think once it healed it'd stop itching."

Sniper understood all about itchy scars. Well, he understood the sensation that was, not the cause.

'How did you get it?' he asked, curiosity momentarily overcoming sense.

Spy sighed with the wonderful feeling of Sniper's fingernails over the scar. He was surprised the RED had asked. It wasn't usually like him to pry.

"I can't remember all of it, but I'm pretty sure he meant to take my ear off," Spy tried to make light of it, but it came out a bit too morbid.

'Oh,' was all Sniper managed in reply. But what else had he been expecting? Any story that ended up with a scar like that was not going to have a happy beginning or middle.

Spy shrugged. "It's an old one."

Sniper nodded. Privately he wondered how old, and what trouble a young Spy might have got himself into.

'Did yer get the guy who did it?'

"I didn't, but he was killed shortly after." Spy was suddenly left to wonder why he was being so honest with Sniper.

Sniper nodded again to show he was listening and appreciated being told.

There was a story here that Spy was skirting around. Sniper was dying to know more, but if Spy was trying to dance around the subject it was maybe best to keep his questions to himself.

All the same...

'Now who on earth would want to do such a nasty thing as take your ear off?' Sniper said, voice full of exaggerated and disgruntled dismay. He shifted his forefinger to run lightly over the shell of Spy's ear before returning to the scar again.

Spy laughed, "You're not that naive, tireur. I grew up in France during the war. It was a dangerous time to be young and stupid. It was dangerous to have information and even more dangerous to not have the information you're pretending to have." He couldn't help but lean into Sniper's touch. "He was hoping I had more to tell him, but you can't drag the truth out of someone who doesn't know it."

Sniper listened with interest. Of course. The war. While he hadn't exactly forgotten about it, he'd somehow never thought to directly apply it to the Spy. That brought his ideas of pony riding, silver spoons and fancy mansions crumbling down even further.

'Oh,' Sniper said again, but it was an accepting, understanding 'oh.' Yes, that was a fraught situation to find yourself in indeed.

Spy stretched up to nip at Sniper's ear, gently. That scar brought up a strange mix of emotions for Spy. He liked it, though it was difficult to see. Obviously identifying marks could be dangerous, but he loved scars and this one was interesting. He had passed out at some point and woken up covered in blood, with one of his compatriots trying to stop the bleeding. He'd been rescued, through no skill or plan of his own, only by luck.

He'd lost his fingers earlier that day and that hurt far more. He remembered it vividly, whereas the scar was just a vague blur. It reminded him of that day, but also of his luck and the willingness of his allies to save his life.

Sniper grinned. He ran his hands idly over the Spy's shoulders and down his arms, fingers stopping when they brushed against his wrists. Kid leather glove on one hand. Not the other. Unaware that the Spy's thoughts had also just settled on that same hand, Sniper found himself wondering why the Spy always seemed to keep at least one glove on. It wasn't something he'd even noticed until that morning. Maybe he was just imagining that the Spy always kept one on? Sniper could certainly recall the Spy having at least one bare hand on him at all different times, but he couldn't quite recall if a second had ever joined it.

Once again, he suspected he shouldn't say anything but found himself asking all the same. 'What's with the one-glove fetish?' he joked.

Spy quieted. They were both too tired for a distraction. Laugh it off, then.

"I need to keep some things secret," he said with a smirk.

Sniper snorted in disbelief and rolled his eyes. Bloody spies. Bunch of fussy weirdos. If this one felt the need to keep a few of his secrets though... well, Sniper didn't mind. He could understand.

'Fine, keep your mutant webbed fingers to yourself then,' he joked.

Spy laughed, relieved and pleased that Sniper was willing to tease him. "If they were webbed, how could I wear gloves?" he countered, grinning. "Honestly." He gave a playful huff. Sniper trusted him to keep secrets. Some lovers would have been hurt by that.

Sniper huffed. 'Well, then—' he cast around for something the issue was unlikely to be. Best to avoid anything skin condition, birthmark or scar related, just in case. 'Your claws then!' he tried.

Spy snickered, kissing him. "Ah, it's too bad you've discovered my secret. I'll have to kill you," he purred.

'Oh, don't say that. I'd have to kill you for that,' Sniper said. Then, quite suddenly, he found himself feeling uncomfortable. In the cosy little cocoon of his van, he'd forgotten for a brief time all about their life outside its walls. Of their history. Of their future. Death after death at each other's hands, stretched out in either direction. This moment in time was a bubble floating over barbed wire. It couldn't survive long.

“It can wait till Monday, at least,” Spy murmured, feeling the same heaviness surrounding them as Sniper. Where could this possibly go? It was a nice distraction. It was fun. But they were getting too comfortable, too close. Spy couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so at home and thinking about it was like a kick in the gut.

He sighed. He’d ruined Sniper’s teasing by going too far with it. He was starting to think the awkwardness of the RED was rubbing off on him.

How long was Sniper’s contract, he wondered? And would they want anything to do with each other after? That was so far away. Spy wasn’t used to planning more than a few months ahead at a time. The future was an uncertain thing and he didn’t like to think too much about it.

Sniper nodded. Yep. They could go back to killing each other then. Well. Maybe the Spy would. Sniper had been struggling to do it a little recently anyway and something about this weekend made him suspect it was going to be harder than ever.

Sniper felt tired. Oddly tired. He'd barely done anything today and he already felt ready to turn over and ignore the world for a few more hours. In part it was probably the Spy's company. He enjoyed it more than he had any right to do but Sniper had always been a loner. Other people exhausted him. And though one person by themselves wasn't nearly as bad as trying to spend time with his rabble of a team, this was still the longest he'd spent in another humans company for a long time.

Sniper looked suddenly exhausted and Spy gave his arm an affectionate squeeze. “I should get back to base. I’ve probably been here too long as it is.” Hopefully Medic wouldn’t pester him again about skipping meals like he had been doing just recently. He had been eating, at least a little. And Sniper fussed over him. He was fine, all the feeling was back in his legs at least.

Spy sat up, leaning over Sniper for a kiss before grabbing his clothes. At this rate he was going to have start bringing a change of clothes when he came over, with the amount of time he was spending. Not that they were wearing clothes much when they were together.

'See you, uh, on the battlefield then,' Sniper said regretfully, feeling a mixture of relieved and saddened to see the Spy actually going this time. But it was okay, he'd have the week to recharge his batteries and then they'd be all set for next weekend. Then they could get up to all sort of interesting things.

“If you can spot me,” Spy said with a cheeky smile.

Spy dressed quietly, leaning over the bed before pulling his mask back on for another kiss, greedily. Mask pulled down over his face, he was the enemy again and they parted ways.

Sniper sighed as the Spy left, their last kiss still tingling against his lips.

Look at him. Pining over an enemy who'd only just stepped out of his door.

What a sap.

Sniper was going to have to toughen up again if he didn't want Spy to be the end of him. Though no matter what he tried, out on the battlefield, Spy was still going to be the death of him.

Chapter Text

Spy walked the distance back to his own base, sweating in the heat. His legs tingled off and on and his head swam a few times. He had to take a couple breaks just to get back. This was ridiculous.

As soon as he was back he’d have a shower, he decided. But by the time he made it back, all he wanted to do was go to the dispenser and cling to it until he felt better. Not only was he physically exhausted, but emotionally drained too. This relationship was going to end him.

Ah! The Spy, finally! Medic had been wanting to have a little talk with him to see if the Spy would let him x-ray his lungs. And if he wouldn't, well, Medic was too interested for that. He'd find a way.

'Herr Spy, where have you been?' he asked, smiling widely. Smiling was supposed to make patients feel more comfortable, he'd heard.

Spy gave him a withering glare that seemed to roll right off him. "I've been in my room."

Of course, the person he least wanted to run into was the first one he saw.

'Oh,' Medic said. 'Of course.' He noted the Spy's crumpled clothing, the slight sheen of sweat on the parts of his face visible in the mask, and the slightly unsteady way he stood.

He'd tried knocking on the Spy's door several times since the last match with no success. He'd also asked all the other members of the team if they'd seen any sign of the Spy. And he'd watched out for any sign of the Spy in the kitchen or bathroom.

Spy gritted his teeth. He could have leaned on the dispenser for awhile longer but he didn't want to hang about with a suspicious Medic. There was a fierce ringing in his ears and he wanted nothing more than a shower and a nap. "I was feeling tired, that's all," he assured Medic, brushing past him.

'Herr Spy, your lungs must be in much worse condition than I feared if a simple walk outside your bedroom has left you in such a state. Or if that's not the case, I think I'd rather better not enquire as to what you've spent the time alone in your room doing that's left you exhausted and in need of a dispenser...'

Spy bristled. Normally he lied far better than this. "I've been feeling under the weather," he admitted. "but I'm fine."

'Under the weather? But why didn't you come to me!' It was Medic's job to look after his teammates after all, and they didn't usually start avoiding him this quickly...

'Well, no matter, I need you in for a couple of tests anyway. You can tell me all about it.'

Spy hesitated, but finally followed him. He was feeling terrible and maybe it wasn't related to Sniper. And even if it was, he needed to feel better by battle.

"Nothing invasive," he said firmly.

'Excellent, excellent!' Medic said, the wide smile back in place. 'Nothing invasive of course n-hmm. Well, I don't think you're due a prostate exam but I can always double-check if you'd like!'

Spy made a face. "For the sake of not arguing, I will pretend that was a joke."

Medic laughed, a little too loud and for a little too long.

He still made sure to check once he got into the infirmary and unlocked the cabinet with the Spy's medical record in it. Luckily for the Spy, there was no current need for a prostate exam.

'Right, so what are your symptoms, herr Spy?' Medic asked as he continued to flick back through the sparse record he had on the Frenchman.

Spy tried to find a good balance between the truth and deception as he described how he felt.

"Cold, fatigued. Numb, sometimes."

'Hmm. Numb you say? Where? What time of day is the fatigue worst? Is it brought on by exercise? How long have you had these symptoms?' the Medic asked eagerly.

“Mostly my legs. After battle, usually. And I’m not sure, perhaps a couple of weeks.” Spy knew he was likely to get chewed out for not making more of an effort to have dinner with the team, but as long as he didn’t have to put up with being badgered after this, it would be worth it. Plus, he was far more used to having a large breakfast than a large dinner. The American style meals were so backwards to him.

'Hmm,' the Medic said again, which was always his response when thinking, whether or not the patient had just told him they had a nasty pimple on their butt or were screaming about their leg being crushed under a falling tree.

'I want to run a few blood tests. Sit down here, please, I'll be just a moment.'

Spy had a momentary feeling of panic. Would he be able to tell that there was venom in his system?

No, of course not. Vampires were a stupid conclusion for a doctor to come to. Who would ever guess that? Maybe he’d see something unusual but he wouldn’t assume it was due to the RED Sniper. Spy could do this. Though at this point, he wasn’t sure how much more blood he ought to lose.

Spy sat, quietly, and rolled up his sleeve to expose his inner arm. He was so pale that his veins showed prominently in blue. Spy frowned. He wasn’t normally this colour.

'You're too pale,' Medic said simply when he returned with a needle and cotton wool swab. Without waiting for permission, Medic reached up with his free hand and pulled down the bottom eyelid of the Spy's right eye.

'Hmm, and so's that,' he added, before letting go again. 'Now, sleeve up a bit more please.'

Spy flinched, but hardly had time to pull away. Medic moved with speed and focus, giving away very little of what he meant to do with his body. It was unnerving. Spy continued rolling up his sleeve, unbuttoning it to make it easier and holding his arm out against his knee.

“I’m not usually this pale,” he said.

'No,' Medic agreed. 'That's one of the reasons we need to run a few tests. The bad news is this needle's going in your arm. The good news is that thanks to the technology linked to respawn, we should have your test results back through in about five minutes!' he waved the needle around as he talked, before remembering where it was supposed to go.

Medic grabbed hold of the Spy's wrist, stretching his arm out.

'Nice veins,' he said approvingly. His stuck his tongue out slightly while trying to make up his mind on where to stick the needle.

Spy didn’t turn his head, not wanting to seem squeamish, but he didn’t want to watch Medic’s joyful prodding of his veins with a sharp object.

‘Nice veins’. What sort of compliment was that? It was unsettling, that’s what it was. Medic was an off putting sort of person. Spy always felt like he was being taken inventory of, like Medic was looking at a pile of organs and usable parts. It was more disconcerting than he liked to admit.

The pinch of the needle was very like Sniper’s fangs, and it was odd to feel a bit of a rush when it happened.

Medic had gone for a nice, prominent vein in the crook of the Spy's arm, not bothering to disinfect the area first. Infections were such trivial things with a medigun around.

He slowly pulled the plunger back out, watching with satisfaction as the needle filled up with blood.

When he had enough (or perhaps a little after that point), he pulled the needle back out and pressed the cotton swab to the Spy's arm. 'Hold this here,' he said, before turning away to a machine in the corner where he kept his wall-mounted medigun when not using it during surgery.

Spy held the cotton swab against the little hole in his arm. “What exactly are you testing for?” He didn’t like the idea of Medic having his blood, but he was required to cooperate with the man, up to a point.

'Oh, a bit of everything,' Medic said with cheerful vagueness. In his experience, patients never understood what he was talking about anyway. They usually just started panicking for some reason.

'Right! Now, while that's being analysed, let’s have a look at those lungs!'

“In what way?” Spy asked, suspiciously.

'Well, since you said I couldn't be too invasive, I'm assuming I'm not allowed to do any surgery?' Medic asked, sounding petulant, as though he'd been unfairly rejected by the Spy.

“Of course not. That would be incredibly invasive,” Spy spat.

'Pity,' the Medic. 'We'll just have to stick to some simple X-rays. Now if you'll just follow me over here...'

The procedure was quick and painless, with little regard being given, however, to the dangers of radiation exposure. That was another area in which the Medic had come to simply rely on respawn and the medigun for. You could cut so many fiddly, faffy bits out that way.

'I've been looking into the effects of smoking on the lungs,' Medic said as he peered at the results. 'Sadly respawn seems to have cleared out the more interesting aspects here.'

Spy nodded, relieved. "Are we done, then?"

'No. We haven't had the results through yet. And I want to have a listen to your heart rate.' He fished out a stethoscope from a drawer. 'Unbutton your shirt please.'

Stiffly and reluctantly, Spy unbuttoned his shirt, holding it open just enough for the stethoscope.

Impatiently, Medic undid another couple of buttons and pushed a hand in under the shirt to press against the Spy's ribs. There was nothing sensual in the slightest about the contact, just a doctor prodding at a patient, mind too deeply engaged with fixing a problem to think much about the human the problem belonged to.

'You're too skinny. Stop skipping so many meals and smoke a few less of those cigarettes and I suspect half your symptoms will clear up by themselves.'

Medic removed his hand and placed the stethoscope against the Spy's chest. His listened intently for a few minutes. 'Hmm,' he said.

Spy glowered, face flushed with anger and embarrassment. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. This was ridiculous.

The stethoscope was freezing against his skin and he struggled to stay still.

'Too fast. Definitely too fast. Either you’re nervous or excited,' Medic said, with what was intended to be a joking smile, 'or your heart is having to work harder than it should to pump blood around your veins.'

“Or your stethoscope is merely freezing,” Spy retorted. Would that get his heart going? Maybe. Honestly he had no idea. Medic’s ‘smile’ was unnerving. Far too much teeth.

“I will make an effort to eat better, but I’m fine otherwise.”

'Cold, numb and fatigued do not say fine to me.' Medic put the stethoscope away. 'Your results should have come through by now.'

Medic went to fetch them. Respawn's data had taken a while for him to learn to read but he'd got the hang of it now. It was just that there were some odd compounds listed that Medic was unfamiliar about.

'It's as I expected, you're anaemic. The drugs you're doing probably aren't helping.'

Drugs. Fuck. The only thing in his system besides cigarettes was Sniper’s venom. He frowned. “Anaemic?” Hopefully a distraction would work and Medic would take the hint that he didn’t want to talk about it.

Medic fought a snicker. Nice attempt to dodge the subject there. Medic didn't care about people doing illegal drugs. It really didn't bother him. In fact, it fascinated him. The results could be so interesting. He'd definitely have to run some further tests to work out exactly what the Spy was on. He also planned on keeping a closer eye on the Frenchman, curious to see what other symptoms might develop.

For now though, he'd be merciful and pretend to drop the subject.

'Yes, anaemia. There's a shortage of iron in your system that's affecting your red blood cells. Eating more will certainly help but I'm going to give you some supplements as well.'

Fantastic. Taking medicine from a man he didn't trust. Never mind that he trusted the enemy Sniper to give him what was likely the same thing. Hélas, Spy didn't want to question his own logic too hard. That could only lead to questioning the nature of his relationship with Sniper. Again.

"Fine, yes, I will take them." After perhaps asking Sniper if they were alright.

'That's the spirit!' Medic said, rifling through a cupboard. His storage system was rather on the...eclectic side, if truth be told. It took him awhile to find the iron supplements. 'Here you go! Take, uh...' He couldn't remember the dosage. 'As many as it says to take on the label! And come back to me in a week's time if you're still experiencing any of the symptoms.'

"Yes. I'm sure I'll be better by then, thank you." Spy practically bolted. He didn't want any further talk of drugs or blood loss. This had already been very uncomfortable and awkward. He'd see if Sniper thought the iron supplements were safe. He could probably tell.

Ah, they learnt so fast, Medic thought to himself. It wouldn't be long before it took Heavy's help and a good horse tranquilliser to get the Spy back into his lab.

For now, he'd just have to keep an eye out for any more symptoms. The tests he'd run on the odd compounds in the Spy's blood hadn't found any reliable matches. It was very odd. Very interesting.

Spy had dinner with the team and had to admit he was feeling a bit better after having eaten.

He didn't like the intense way Medic watched him though.

Chapter Text

Monday’s battle left Spy with a nagging paranoia. Medic was watching him, he was sure of it. He couldn't ask Sniper about the supplements without raising suspicions. He focused instead on staying present in the battle, killing the enemy Medic many times over and feeling a powerful sense of satisfaction every time. He ignored Sniper. His team didn't need him to take the man out, he told himself. If they did, he would.

Sniper couldn't help but wonder why Spy seemed so intent on killing the RED Medic. Or why Spy hadn't gone for him. Or why he hadn't gone for Spy.

Sniper way playing a game with himself. The game was called, 'spotting the enemy Spy and then pretending not to, and then feeling guilty about it.' It wasn't a catchy name and it wasn't a fun game.

He decided that he'd just wait for Spy to kill him once. Then he'd have to return the favour. Only fair.

He just wasn't going to be the first one to break the murder boycott they apparently had going on.

The day passed quickly and Spy was happy for it to be over. He hadn’t killed anyone except the Medic and the Scout all through battle. But he’d done well anyway. He should probably have killed Sniper at least once though. Ugh.

He refused to relent in his paranoia and take the supplements Medic had given him. But with his new diet, the last of the tingling and dizziness started to fade.

The next couple battles were similar. He couldn’t help but avoid Sniper. He spotted him a few times, and definitely noticed a few heads turning to a fine red mist, but it wasn’t worth chasing the man all the way up to his nest.

'For fucks sake, man, what good are you if you're not shooting BLUs?' Scout asked, swinging his bat in irritation like the tail of an angry cat.

'I am shooting BLUs!' Sniper argued.

'Then why’s the BLU Spy been getting me all week, huh?'

'Well I don't know, maybe 'cos you're too slow.'

Scout made angry spluttering noises.

Sniper had noticed the Spy get him a number of times during the last few matches. He'd felt bad at the time for not saving Scout, but he wasn't feeling so bad about it now.

Maybe he should take his Spy out a couple of times, just to keep up appearances.

But damn, wasn't he monster enough already?

Spy stopped where his Sniper, the BLU Sniper, could see him, waiting for him to take out the Engineer so he could slip past and take out the Pyro. They had started working together remarkably well recently and Spy was pleased to have found some kind of silent camaraderie with at least one of his teammates.

He was starting to think maybe he had a thing for Snipers, but there was no attraction to the BLU Sniper.

He’d caught flashes of the little BLU light lining up a shot and he knew it wouldn’t be long now. He just had to stay still and quiet until his teammate took the shot. He pulled out his knife, flipping it silently between his fingers, ready to take out the mumbling monstrosity.

'Oh no you don't,' Sniper muttered to himself, spotting the same blue lightSpy was watching. He swung around, searching for the source. There! The other Sniper was nothing if not predictable with his sniping spots.

No time to lose. He took the shot. It was a messy one, not a proper headshot. A fatal one all the same though.

Sniper turned back to Engineer to check he was all right and saw a blue haze behind the nearby Pyro.

Sniper froze, the red light from his rifle scope trained on the BLU Spy's heart.

Spy saw a flash of red from his Sniper’s gun. His Sniper. His enemy. He took the stab, not sure he’d have time to finish it. Pyro went down like a sack of potatoes. Spy wasn’t entirely sure Pyro wasn’t a sack of potatoes, honestly. The way they moved wasn’t entirely normal.

He froze after, sure that he was dead.

No, he was alive. And staying that way. He looked up and around, trying to find Sniper’s nest. Merde, he really should take the shot, they hadn’t taken each other out in days.

Sniper's finger twitched at the trigger.

Take the shot, he told himself. Just take the bloody shot.

The red spot wavered across Spy's chest, the knife in his hand glinting with fresh blood.

If the Engineer turned around. If he saw that red light...

He had to take the shot.

Sniper's hands tightened their grip on his rifle. His palms felt sweaty against it.

He had to.

Spy had just killed one of his teammates.

He had to.

He couldn't.

Sniper let out a long, shuddering breath and lowered his rifle, the red light disappearing from Spy's chest.

He couldn't do it.

The light faded and Spy’s breath returned, his heart feeling like it was restarting. Ah well, might as well try to kill the damn Engineer. He stepped in close as quick as he could, knife going for the man’s thick neck.

Sniper watched.

He felt the knife go in as though it was his own neck the Spy was stabbing.

He felt the cold metal stab into him.

Guilt.

He'd let this happen.

He'd let his teammates die.

He could have done something. Should have done something. But he'd just let it happen.

What had the Spy done to him? What had he become?

Traitor.

Spy resisted punching the air for victory when he actually got a kill on the invincible Engineer. Whatever the man had been using to ferret him out clearly wasn’t working today! The only thing that dampened his mood was the fact that Sniper was doing his best to give them away. Maybe it was time to go up and stab his lover; remind him that they were enemies.

Not that he wanted Sniper to be angry, but it would be easier to shoot him after being stabbed, surely?

Spy cloaked and headed up to the Sniper tower.

Sniper rubbed at his eyes. He'd spared his Spy's life. Got two of his teammates killed. If the Spy went on and grabbed the intelligence now and won the match, the loss would be on him.

He tried to tell himself that no one would know, but he would. And the Spy would too.

Look at him. What a love-sick loser.

Love?

No, that was ridiculous. Sniper had never even been in love; he didn't even know what it felt like. It was a soft emotion. A vulnerable one. The equivalent of rolling over and exposing your belly to someone who might be just about to sink their claws right in.

Sniper didn't do 'love.'

But he had no other reasonable explanation for what this was.

Spy felt a few twinges as he climbed up to Sniper’s nest. His Scout had bolted past him on his way to the Intelligence and the only thing Spy had to do to help secure the match now was… make sure Scout succeeded.

The most likely mercenary to kill Scout was up ahead but Spy felt as though he was filling up with dread. It made him heavy and slow. He stayed quiet.

He could see Sniper watching out his little window, rifle loose in his hands. He looked upset. He’d seen Spy kill his teammates and he’d let him go. Of course he was upset.

This was ridiculous. This was their work. They had to kill each other.

Spy crept forwards. The thoughts didn’t help. Sniper would return. Sniper would be fine. He wouldn’t even feel any pain, if Spy’s own experiences being stabbed by the RED Spy were similar.

So why was this so difficult?

Sniper wasn't sure what made him do it. He couldn't sense the Spy at the moment, but all the same, something told him to look around.

There he was. Right behind him; knife raised, cloak down. Sniper's heart caught in his throat. He should be pulling his rifle around. Lining up the shot. Or grabbing for his kukri. But all Sniper could do was stare at his Spy. No, not his Spy. Not right now. The enemy Spy.

Danger.

Damn it, damn it! Sniper’s hesitation hardly registered with Spy. But the eyes on him did. He stepped into Sniper, forcing his knife in between the man’s third and fourth ribs. Looking up, the horror of the moment registered as Sniper’s blood sprayed him and they had a frozen second together.

Spy was only being professional. Why did it feel like a betrayal?

He'd known it was about to happen. Had let it happen.

A hoarse, 'oof' escaped his lips as the blade was driven in deep.

Spy was right in front of him, an expression on his face that Sniper couldn't read. With his free hand he grabbed Spy's forearm, neither pushing him away nor pushing him closer, just holding him.

The pain didn't register, not really, but alarm bells rang in the back of his mind. He was wounded. Knife to the ribs. Fatal. He wondered how many breaths he had left.

Please, please just die, just disappear, respawn. Spy wasn’t sure which one of them was trembling but he could feel it through both of them. The blood pumping out from Sniper’s heart was soaking Spy’s gloves but he could do nothing to break the gentle hold Sniper had on him. Didn’t want to. Didn’t dare.

Please, just disappear, he pleaded internally.

Sniper's eyes slid shut. His head drooped forward. His grip on Spy's arm grew lax until his hand fell away from it.

It was strangely similar to falling asleep, apart from all the blood.

Spy pulled free his knife as Sniper fell to the floor heavily. Feeling very unreal, he wiped the knife on his already blood-stained jacket and folded it away. He distantly heard the Administrator's voice boom across the battlefield, BLU victory. Sniper’s body disappeared and Spy finally felt he was able to leave.

He felt sick.

Sniper respawned to the sound of Engineer ranting under his breath about some 'damn faulty' thing. He wasn't sure what he meant but it soon became clear it was linked to his death by the Spy. Sniper forced his guilt aside. And his anger and confusion and annoyance. The annoyance was at both himself and the BLU Spy. He was annoyed at Spy for killing him and annoyed at himself for how much it hurt.

Fucking ridiculous. They were both mercenaries. Enemies. It was their job.

He'd just have to make sure he paid Spy back the next day.

Except...it was the weekend after that. What if killing Spy made him angry enough to decide he didn't want to come back? Sniper didn't need him, not really, not now he had his usual blood supply back. But he wanted him.

Spy headed back down to base, congratulated his Scout after the humiliation round was over and went to shower and get into clean clothes.

Hopefully this would encourage Sniper to actually kill him during battle. If he didn’t give it up, surely Sniper would see it was alright and they had to continue to fight each other? He’d understand. Spy’s self assurance did very little to comfort himself.

On the plus side, he had managed to kill Engineer again, which was a big bonus for him. It had been more than a month since his last Engineer kill.

All the same, he somehow doubted he’d manage the same again tomorrow.

'There, there!' Demoman yanked at Sniper's shoulder, making him lose sight of the BLU Scout he'd been trying to get a shot on.

'What?' Sniper said, looking around at the Scot in annoyance. They were both hanging around the Engineer's dispenser after a couple of separate incidents with enemy team members.

'The Spy! He's got our intelligence!' Sniper looked where Demoman was pointing and his heart sank. He'd really thought he'd be able to get through this whole week without murdering his... his...whatever the Spy was to him.

But there he was in plain sight, his cloak down and the intelligence in his hand.

Sniper's heart constricted in his chest. He had no choice.

Sniper took the shot.

'Ayyyyy, well done!' Demoman said, patting Sniper on the back. 'You showed that BLU Bastard!'

Sniper nodded mechanically. Yes. He's shown him. Shown him he was capable of killing him. Somehow. Sniper hoped this wouldn't ruin everything between them as he felt bad enough about it as it was.

Spy came to in respawn with curses on his lips. He’d had the damn briefcase in his hands and- Sniper. It’d been Sniper. Well. Good. Good, he’d finally managed it. And they were safer for it. Even if BLU would suffer a little for the lost intelligence.

It didn’t feel good, but he knew beyond his emotional reaction that they had to kill each other. Still, that didn’t stop the prickling behind his eyes, or the sinking in his chest.

He jogged back out to the battlefield, hoping he’d get another chance.

Spy got across the battlefield before running into the RED Demo. He thought he’d cloaked before the man had noticed him, but he was an instant too slow and Demo lobbed a few bombs at him. He turned tail and ran but the explosion caught him far quicker than he could run.

With a scream, he was blasted into the side of the building, not quite sure what was happening. Everything was white and he couldn’t hear anything but ringing. He was sure he was injured but he didn’t feel anything yet.

The BLU Medic heard the scream of pain and started off towards his teammate.

'I got him too!' Demoman said, passing by Sniper.

'Huh, what?' Sniper said, distracted.

'The BLU Spy, just now. And if he's not dead, he's going to wish he was!'

'Oh,' Sniper said, his voice hollow. He'd been deep in concentration, scanning for more BLUs to distract himself from what he'd done. All the same, a faint cry of pain had filtered through to him. A familiar one. He just hadn't made the connection.

If he's not dead, he's going to wish he was.

Sniper watched as Demoman left the building in the opposite direction. What harm could it do, just to check? If  Spy was still alive, the least he could do was mercy kill him. It'd be cruel not to.

Without spending a moment longer on the thought, Sniper was on the move. He retraced what was Demoman's most likely steps before stumbling across a sight that made his heart lurch.

The Spy. His Spy. Sprawled at the bottom of a wall, shrapnel and blood everywhere. Spy's arm was twisted at an unnatural angle and there were gouges out of his legs. Bits of metal stuck out of his chest like shards of glass.

'Spy?' Sniper said, his voice hushed and strained.

The only thing that had started filtering through the bright white flashes behind Spy’s eyes and the ringing in his ears was pain. It was too much and he couldn’t hear his own whimpers.

The BLU Medic paused as he rounded the corner, eyes narrowed, and quietly backed away. Though it was his job to care for his teammates, he wasn’t willing to risk death for them. RED Sniper stood over the injured BLU Spy and Medic wasn’t entirely sure what his expression was. It was intense, whatever it was. Spy didn’t look like he’d live much longer without a medigun, but Medic was far more interested in Sniper’s reaction to this scene.

'Spy?' Sniper said again. He was still alive, Sniper could see that. Poor man. Poor bloody man.

Sniper knelt down next to him.

It was hard to think straight though. It had been almost a week since he'd fed off Spy. He still had his blood bags to keep him going of course, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't his Spy.

But this was. His Spy's blood was spattered all over the place. It was a horrible thing to see.

Despite that, Sniper could feel his fangs coming through. There seemed something rude about that. Disrespectful. His Spy was dying in front of him and all his body cared about was the blood.

''S alright,' Sniper said, reaching out a hand to gently cup the Spy's face. 'I'll take care of you, don't worry,' he murmured. 'It'll be okay in a moment.' He ignored the fangs, the blood, and his hunger. They weren't important.

Medic watched with complete fascination, shaking slightly. He’d been suspicious, but this was the last conclusion he would have jumped to. He’d spotted Sniper stealing blood bags. Spy had turned up with anaemia. Now there were flashes of what Medic swore were fangs in the Sniper’s mouth as he talked, too quietly for him to catch

Vampire.

Impossible. Impossible. Utterly impossible.

And yet...

A grin slowly spread across Medic’s face. He had to get his hands on the RED Sniper. He had to experiment. His head spun with ideas and possibilities so fiercely he felt giddy.

He had to have it. He had to catch this animal, and today if possible. Then he’d have the weekend to experiment before anyone caught on!

Spy felt a touch on his face, surprisingly soft against all the pain. He flinched away from it, but… it had to be Sniper. He stilled. No one else would touch him like that.

'Shh, shh,' Sniper said, more to soothe than to shush.

He drew his kukri. 'See you tomorrow evening, alright? We'll make a good time of it, just you and me.'

Then he slit his Spy's throat.

Blood streamed out of his cut jugular, splashing over the Sniper's hands.

He held his hand until respawn took away Spy and his blood. A tiny bit remained across the knuckles of his right hand. Sniper licked it.

He hoped next time he tasted the Spy's blood it would be in happier circumstances.

Spy woke again in respawn, unsure what had just happened. He was sure Sniper had been there. Maybe he’d mercy killed him. Must have been. He headed back out, slowly. That death had been long and terrible. He wasn’t keen on returning to battle.

Medic ran back to his Heavy. He knew it’d be far easier to take Sniper near the end of the battle, and with help. Heavy would help him, especially if he played up how sick and weak Spy had been getting. Heavy was a big softie that way. He’d do what his Medic suggested and help him capture this RED animal.

'What is it?' Heavy said, straightening up in alarm. He'd been checking over a scuff on his minigun's side during a lull in the battle, but the look on his Medic's face was enough to distract him from even Sasha.

He'd seen that look before. It was a wide-eyed, wild expression. One that reminded him a little of insanity, or would have done, if he didn't push the thought away each time. This was his doctor. His Medic. He was eccentric, yes, but not truly mad.

Medic struggled with the right words at first. He couldn't sound too curious, he had to act more concerned. "The RED Sniper is... it isn't a human. It's been feeding off our Spy, he's been sick. We must capture it," Study it, he thought eagerly. "It will be replaced and we can safely dispose of it without anyone knowing. I need your help," he said beseechingly.

Heavy shook his head in confusion, brow wrinkled. 'What? 'It.' Who is this 'it'?’'

"It might sound strange, but if you knock the Sniper out, I will prove it!" Medic was fairly sure he could get the creature's fangs to pop out manually... and if not, he had a scalpel handy.

Heavy shook his head again. 'Medic, are you trying to say that...RED Sniper is...dangerous? Is danger to little Spy, or to you?' That was his main concern. Snipers, while usually considered dangerous by most people, meant little to a man who came back from the dead every single day. If the Sniper was somehow a real threat to his team, and worst of all his Medic, that's where he would draw the line.

"Not only to Spy, not only to BLU, but even its own teammates!" Medic tried to keep the glee out of his voice. “It’s a monster!”

Something flickered across Heavy’s face. ‘A monster?’ he echoed. He didn’t move for a moment, a distant look in his eyes. Then he sighed and said, ‘'I do not understand this, but I trust you, Doctor. What must be done?' He did trust Medic. He trusted Medic to the moon and back, though perhaps he should not have done.

"We must grab it, unconscious if possible, close to the end of the match. We are winning. Let us keep an eye on the Sniper until the humiliation round. We can grab it then and take it to the infirmary." He was flush with excitement. There were so many things he wanted to experiment with. This opportunity, as unexpected and impossible as it was, wasn't going to pass him by.

Heavy’s Medic was shaking slightly, most likely from fear or adrenaline, and the colour was high in his cheeks. This Sniper, this...thing, must be a threat indeed to get such a reaction out of his stoic doctor.

'I will make it sure that we win!' Heavy announced. Sasha, Medic and him were an unstoppable team. 'Unconscious...how though?' he asked. He could use his fists but head trauma was a fickle thing. It might not knock him—it out at all, or else kill it. Whatever it was.

Heavy rarely got close to the enemy Sniper but it made his blood run cold to think that that man might have been something more than he seemed all along. It was such a strange, incredible thought. But his Medic didn't lie.

"I have just the thing," Medic pulled out a leather kit filled with syringes. His grin widened. He couldn’t wait to begin his experiments.

RED losing that day’s match left Sniper weak and weaponless.

He never even stood a chance.