Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“So what do you even do?” Scout asked, trailing a foot or two behind Sniper and mostly not stepping on his heels. “Like, in your free time? Wrestle alligators or some shit?”

“The stereotype is crocodiles,” Sniper pointed out, posture a little stiff as he continued walking, his freshly-filled cup of coffee sloshing a little bit with how quickly he was walking towards the exit to the base.

“That’s not an answer, c’mon, man!” Scout whined, ducking ahead a little to try and get in Sniper’s line of sight. It didn’t work, Sniper just moving around him and walking out the door to the outside of the base. Scout pursued. “We only even see you in here like once a week, maybe I’m just curious what you do all the rest of the time!”

“Be less curious,” Sniper deadpanned, not stopping or slowing in the slightest.

Until the moment Scout moves to stand directly in front of him, that was. Then he came to a very abrupt stop, flinching hard enough that he almost spilled his coffee. “Man, would it kill you to lighten up and talk for a minute?” Scout asked earnestly.

“Might kill you,” Sniper threatened outright, trying to sidestep and move around him.

Scout mirrored him. “I’m just tryin’ to have a conversation!”

“I’m just trying to go about my business,” Sniper shot back, and tried to step around him again.

Mirrored again. “What’s your problem?!” Scout challenged.

A moment later, Scout was no longer standing there with his hands on his hips. Instead he was grabbed by the collar and lifted bodily to be slammed against the concrete wall. Sniper’s other hand, in the mean time, didn’t spill his coffee.

“My problem is getting pestered within an inch of my buggering life every time you catch sight of me!” Sniper all but snapped, looking extremely irritated. “My problem is that you won’t take the hint and shut up and leave me alone! Why are you so determined to get so far into my bloody business all the damn time?!”

Silence, for a full four seconds. In that time, both Sniper and Scout seemed to realize how red Scout’s face had gotten.

“Uh,” Scout tried, voice cracking a little, flustered beyond words and trying to scramble his brain back together.

Sniper scoffed, taking a step back and releasing him. He looked confused and still somewhat irritated. “You can’t be serious,” he deadpanned.

“I-I-I dunno what you’re talking about,” Scout said quickly, trying to backtrack. “I-I—“

“Weren’t born yesterday,” Sniper said flatly. “Don’t try and lie to me.”

“I’m—“ Scout went to deny, and caught Sniper’s expression, and changed tactics. “Uh. I’m… sorry?”

“Just shut up, kid,” Sniper sighed, glaring off to one side down towards the door they’d stepped out of, taking a sip of his coffee. He seemed to notice the way Scout seemed about two seconds from evaporating in the silence, and spoke again. “Really don’t know how you expected any of that to work. You thought you’d talk my ear off and, what, at some point I’d start stripping?”

“No, I just—“ Scout started to defend, then realized he was in fact speaking out loud, and shut up for a few seconds. He tried again when Sniper raised an eyebrow at him. “I just… I didn’t think it’d go anywhere, I just kinda… wanted…”

Silence. “Wanted what?” Sniper prompted outright.

“…Your attention,” Scout admitted a little sheepishly.

Sniper just looked at him for a long few moments, and for those long few moments Scout wished for some kind of immediate escape from his situation. Heart attack, stroke, anything that would get him out of there.

Then Sniper was taking two steps closer, boxing Scout in against the wall. “Well, you have my attention,” he said, tone a little lower. “What now?”

A few seconds later, once Scout’s brain stopped short-circuiting so badly, he managed to stammer a sentence. “You—you’re serious?” he choked.

Sniper shrugged. “Depends on where you’re planning on this going.”

“Uh—yeah, yeah! Sure! Uh. Maybe, uh—“ Scout stuttered, tripping over his words, flustered and embarrassed. Sniper waited. “Uh, maybe we can… I, I dunno, go somewhere more private…?”

“Plenty private. Nobody else ever comes out this way,” Sniper replied.

“Oh. Yeah, that’s cool. Uh.” He swallowed hard. His mouth felt dry. “I-I-I dunno, what would… you want?”

“Fairly sure I asked you first.”

“I, look, I have no idea what you want from me here, man,” Scout admitted, flustered.

“I want you to tell me what you’re into, whether this would be a long-term arrangement, and whether you’d be trying to take the lead or not. From this conversation I’m guessing it’s a no on that last one,” he ventured, eyebrows rising.

“I uh, I haven’t… the, there’s not a lot of guys who… I’m kinda new to most of this,” Scout admitted next, face getting increasingly red. “Haven’t really… done anything with a guy, mostly just… y’know, just, thought about it.”

“Yeah?” Sniper asked, eyebrows rising further, though his expression was still a little hard to read with the sunglasses. “So… rather than saying anything, you’ve just been, what, dropping by to pester me until I snap at you, then running off to have a wank over it? That right?”

Scout’s voice caught in his throat, and when he finally said “yeah”, it was much squeakier than he’d intended.

He jumped bodily when a large, rough hand moved to suddenly cup at the front of his pants, finding just the right position within a moment, gripping at him through the fabric. His breathing hitched, and Sniper never looked away. “Hmm. Been a while, then?” he asked almost idly.

Scout tried to stammer out an affirmation, but it was cut off by Sniper suddenly squeezing for a moment.

“Probably won’t take much,” Sniper observed neutrally, tone unbothered and unaffected. “Hell, ‘specially since it’s me, and apparently you’ve been thinking about this.”

He’d been thinking about all sorts of things, but admittedly the concept of Sniper trapping him against a wall and massaging at his package through his pants was doing a lot for him.

“Pants off,” Sniper directed calmly, and Scout promptly moved to undo his pants, and was left trying to keep them from falling down into the dust with one hand and clinging to Sniper’s bicep with the other when he was promptly taken back in hand. Sniper paused long enough to spit into his palm before he was jacking Scout off in steady, even motions. 

It wasn’t anything fancy, but he was right, Scout wouldn’t need it. Already his head was spinning.

“Good?” Sniper asked when for a while all he could do was choke on little noises of pleasure, trying to hold back any potentially embarrassing sounds.

“Yeah,” he agreed quickly, shakily, and fuck, Sniper was still only using the one hand, still hadn’t even put down his fucking coffee, and here he was about to lose it any second, holy shit—

And the words he tried to say were “oh my god”, but mostly it was just a babble, but Sniper seemed to catch on anyways, and he sped his hand and hummed in interest when Scout spilled over his knuckles with a weak whine.

Sniper wiped his hands off on Scout’s briefs, moved back enough to let him get his pants back on. Scout looked at him once he had his head in order, saw that Sniper’s pants were suddenly a good bit tighter.

“Uh,” he tried, and blinked a few times to reorient himself, and tried again, going for more suave and less squeak. “You uh, want me to take care of that?”

Sniper raised an eyebrow, sipped his coffee. “Up to you. We could head somewhere with a bed and I could show you a thing or two. Since you’re new to blokes and all.”

“Yeah. Yeah! Sounds good. Sounds great actually, great. Great ideas. Uh… thanks?” Scout stammered, mouth right back to running.

“Kid, do yourself a favor? Shut up.”

“Yeah okay shutting up—“

Chapter Text

They ended up in Sniper’s camper since they were halfway there, and Scout found himself kneeling on a hard, thinly-carpeted floor, watching maybe too intently as Sniper muddled with his belt.

As an afterthought, Sniper reached over and grabbed a pillow and tossed it to the ground, and Scout situated it beneath his knees after a moment’s thought. Then Sniper’s pants were open and being shuffled down his legs, and the front of his shirt rucked up a bit, and Scout was finding out that apparently Sniper didn’t wear underwear even with his uniform which he found ridiculously attractive for reasons he couldn’t even totally articulate.

Sniper had himself in hand, working in idle pumps as Scout got a look at him. And, y’know, locker rooms and all, he’d caught glimpses of pretty much all of the guys by then, but it was way different looking at him straight on and when he was hard and looking right back at Scout.

“Never sucked a bloke off, then?” he asked, as if for clarification.

“Nah, no,” Scout replied, still eyeing him.

Sniper exhaled, halfway to a sigh. “Right. Just…” He thought for a second. “Just keep your teeth out of the way, use your tongue, and try not to choke yourself, awright?”

“Y-yeah, okay,” Scout said, and licked his lips, and leaned in.

Sniper moved his hand away and let Scout take over, taking it by the base and angling up towards his mouth.

And it wasn’t, like, rocket science, he’d gotten sucked off a few times before and knew what he liked and what worked, but he still hesitated for another second or two before he carefully, cautiously, leaned in to lick the head.

Sniper shifted as if relaxing, and Scout considered some stuff. First of all, the nightmare scenario was off the table, the taste wasn’t bad. And of course it wasn’t, Sniper was one of his cleaner teammates, but he was still relieved. Second of all, he wasn’t going to look like a total idiot, because up close like this he knew he’d actually be able to get this a pretty good way into his mouth.

But he pulled out a move he’d had done to him a few times before and warmed up into it, starting with licking and kinda-sloppy kissing, just kinda getting a feel for what he was doing. And he was apparently doing a pretty good job, because Sniper was relaxing further, and at one point made this gravelly kind of humming noise that made Scout feel real damn pleased with himself, a real ego boost that most people would probably argue he didn’t need.

But at the very least, it was enough to convince Scout to lean in that much further and take him into his mouth. And that got another hum, and Scout had to concentrate hard on keeping his teeth out of the way.

And he didn’t know what it was, maybe it was just like, the idea of what he was doing, but there was something about this that made him feel superheated, antsy, maybe even desperate, and he just kinda did what he was pretty sure was the thing he was supposed to do, slowly starting to bob his head, and when that almost immediately got monotonous he started to suck in counterpoint.

And he was like, 90% sure that every time he’d ever had this done to him, they were much less messy about it. He hoped the little noises weren’t too distracting. But it was either make sure he kept his teeth out of the way or not make a bunch of noise, he couldn’t focus on both. He was pretty sure he was doing at least an okay job, though, because Sniper was starting to make more of those raspy growly hums, maybe more like groans, and in his periphery he could see that Sniper was grabbing onto the sheets on either side of his hips pretty hard.

At some point Scout remembered some other stuff people would do to him—he cupped Sniper’s balls and rolled them in his hand, and that got a whole moan, and he tried to take him deeper into his mouth until he felt his gag reflex starting to argue about it, and then he felt Sniper’s hand on the back of his head down near his neck and—

And he realized, okay, maybe he could get into this. Or maybe he already was. Because he was starting to get pretty hard, actually. Like, distractingly hard.

And he dipped too far at one point and gagged outright, and pulled up to cough, his eyes watering, and fuck, okay, that was that lesson learned. And Sniper exhaled hard, his grip going a little tight, but rather than complaining he managed a throaty sort of “You awright?”

Scout waved him off, still coughing a little, and god his face had to be red, he felt like he was burning up. “I’m fine, just… fuck.” He cleared his throat hard, blinking a few times. “Sorry.”

“Getting off on this, then?” Sniper asked, and Scout glanced back up, and Sniper was looking down at Scout’s lap, and, okay, so he was caught. He flushed further. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, you know. It happens.”

“Yeah? What, happens when you’re blowin’ dudes too?” Scout asked, trying to look a little less flustered.

“Sometimes,” Sniper shrugged, and Scout started coughing again. “Don’t tell me you’re going to try and act like a prude when you’re currently on your bloody knees.”

“Just—just shut up,” Scout mumbled, and leaned in to set back to work with a vengeance. Sniper did indeed shut up.

Scout didn’t want to choke again, so he gripped around what all he couldn’t get in his mouth, trying to remember to pump and squeeze between bobbing his head and sucking. And Sniper’s hand migrated a little ways up his head to card into his hair, and it was all the easier to work Sniper up into where he was making actual noise.

“Close,” Sniper warned, voice a little breathless in a way that made Scout absolutely throb. “If you’re—gonna pull off—“

Scout didn’t, mostly because he was curious. And a few moments later Sniper swore hard, and then he had a mouthful of—

Okay, so every porn he’d ever seen was made by liars. The taste wasn’t good. He wasn’t gonna like, throw up, but definitely gross. He fumbled off to one side for the trash can and spat into it as quick as he could, twice for good measure.

“Not bad,” Sniper said, well out of breath. When Scout looked back over, he was settling his pants back into place. “Bit sloppy, but being new and all, I’ll give it a pass.”

“Hell yeah,” Scout said, unreasonably proud of himself, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

Sniper moved to pull him up to sit on his lap, and Scout went along with it with little hesitation. Then Sniper was popping his pants open and Scout was leaning in with greater enthusiasm.

“Sure seems like you enjoyed yourself,” Sniper teased, and Scout flushed. “See that being something you’d, er… want to learn more of?”

“Yeah!” Scout chirped, and then Sniper’s hand was in his pants, and he jolted a little. “F-fuck, uh, I mean y-you don’t have to do that you already kinda—got me off once—“

“What if I want to?” Sniper asked, raising an eyebrow at him, and Scout stuttered about that for a little longer until Sniper apparently got impatient and turned them to lay Scout down on the bed, pulling his pants out of the way enough to—

“Holyfuckingshit!” Scout yipped as Sniper bent down and swallowed down like half of him in one go, settling into a damn near expert rhythm within a few seconds, and fuck, okay, he already got Sniper off so it really shouldn’t matter but he was pretty sure if he came within a minute and a half of Sniper starting to suck him off he would literally have to go into witness protection he would be so embarrassed but on the other hand Sniper was sucking his dick and that was an idea so hot he could never even jack off about it.

So he curled his hands into fists on either side of his own head where he was gripping at the sheets and he squeezed his eyes shut hard and he choked down noises and he held out for as long as he could. And it felt like a marathon, like pushing a few extra miles at a dead sprint, the effort making him jittery and half-convinced he was going to pull a muscle somewhere, but he held out as long as he could force himself to before he finished, swearing a blue streak the whole way down.

His head was fuzzy and fizzy when he came back down to earth again, and his tongue felt heavy, and Sniper was lying beside him, smoking and blowing out the window on the exhale. And he was feeling so goddamn pleased with himself that he found himself vocalizing the first coherent sentence he could get his head around.

“Hey,” he said. “Maybe next time you walk me through what like, actual fucking is like.”

Sniper raised an eyebrow at him. “…It’d be you on bottom for the first time of that,” he said slowly.

“Think I’ll be a natural at that too?” Scout teased.

“…Maybe,” Sniper said, looking slightly more amused at his antics than before, and Scout relaxed, sank back down to try and get his brain together, and maybe eventually to get his pants back up.

Chapter Text

Okay, so it wasn’t like—

So yeah, Scout was kind of new to dating guys. Or, not even dating, just sleeping with. Hell, not even sleeping with—

It was just that he was kind of new at guys as a concept and he’d heard enough, like, jokes and shitty comments and stuff that he was kind of a little bit nervous.

Because for sure he’d expected it to be a thing where like, okay, they were gonna fuck, that meant doing whatever the hell was involved in doing that between two guys. But then Sniper had jerked him off, then he’d sucked Sniper off and that actually had been pretty goddamn great and he was still kind of using that as jackoff material, then Sniper sucked him off, which he was definitely using as jackoff material probably until he died.

And… they’d seen each other again like that once or twice since then. And both times Sniper hadn’t even brought up what Scout said, he’d just gotten Scout off with his hand and mouth and helped Scout with returning the favor. But he knew Sniper remembered what he said.

About… wanting Sniper to fuck him.

Okay, so maybe Scout was a little nervous. Maybe nervous enough that it was keeping him lying awake a little bit.

He sighed hard, turning onto his back and glaring at the ceiling. He was probably overthinking this. It probably wasn’t even a big deal. He wasn’t even one of those people that put a lot of stock in the whole “virginity” thing, into first times as a whole, because experience was more of a sliding scale and not an on/off switch anyways, and it wasn’t like this was going to be wildly different from the other times he’d had sex. It was just that he was going to be on the other side.

And, like, maybe a few other differences too, but it wasn’t a big deal.

And it wasn’t like it was a complete mystery either—he hadn’t exactly hit the books or anything, but he had a basic running idea of how stuff worked between two dudes. Knew the steps, knew the mechanics of it. Like, beyond just skin mags from the extremely secret section of the secret section of magazines. Like, actual reliable sources since he learned pretty early on in his sex life that porn was made by liars.

He closed his eyes tight.

And it wasn’t like it was going to be unpleasant, as far as he could tell. The concept of it sounded really nice. The concept of a guy—fuck it, this was a fantasy, why be subtle? The concept of specifically Sniper running hands along his body, groping up his thighs and holding on to his ass the way that he tended to do when they made out, except his fingers drifting inward until they could rub against him in teasing motions—

He shifted under the blanket, and realized he was hard, and sighed again, realizing that he wasn’t getting to sleep any time soon.

He considered for a second. Maybe… he could get a head start. Sorta break the seal on the situation ahead of time so he wasn’t completely clueless later.

He fumbled through his bedside table for a minute in the dark until he found the tube of lube he tended to use—he might as well invest, not like he had much other shit to spend his ridiculous mercenary salary on—and clicked on the light on the table just so he could see a little bit.

He kicked the blanket off—it was too hot for that anyways—and considered positions for a few minutes until he finally just turned onto his front, propping himself up a little bit on his knees and already feeling extremely embarrassed by all of this.

Okay, no, that was fine. That was why he needed to do this before he made an idiot of himself in front of Sniper.

He shuffled his boxers down and muddled his way through getting his hand slick for a minute before he moved to slick up his fingers as best he could, hesitating all along the way. How much lube was he supposed to use? Like, a lot, probably, right? Probably no way to use too much. A lot was probably a good idea.

He slid his hand back down behind himself, shifting once and twice to find a good angle that wouldn’t fuck his arm up, and kinda beat around the bush for a few moments before he could really convince himself to go for it. He’d showered after work because he’d been all dusty and bloody anyways, so he knew he was clean and all, but for some reason he still hesitated.

Maybe nerves again. Whatever.

It… wasn’t a bad feeling. That was an immediate relief. It was just… a little weird. The same way it had been a little weird that time Sniper had introduced him to the concept of playing with his chest, had pinched at each nipple until Scout was a fuckin’ mess. And he was pretty sure that, like that time, it would just take a little bit before he got used to it, then it would feel good.

It kinda felt good. More in the way of the idea of it being good, to be honest, and the newness of it. Little circles against himself were more soothing than anything, but the idea of slicking himself up and working open to get fucked was—

Okay. Okay, he could do this.

He took deep breaths, closed his eyes tight, tried to take things slow and steady, tried to relax, tried not to tense up. And he glanced over at his clock, and was a little annoyed when he found himself almost ten minutes into trying to work through even just one finger and it hadn’t started feeling good yet, just slightly weird. 

And he found himself getting frustrated enough that he gave up on trying to work open any real amount, face and shoulders smashed into the mattress by his body weight as he just tugged himself off in half-slick motions and decided he would just clean up in the goddamn morning.

So, okay. It hadn’t gone great. But it also hadn’t been a fuckin’ catastrophe, so he really didn’t have any idea what to think.

He tried two other times after that, and while it didn’t feel bad, it was just… not much of anything. Mostly he just felt like, a little uncomfortable. Less than the first time, but still not much. And he figured, fuck it, why make this the one part of his life he beat around the bush on? So he just brought it up to Sniper anyways.

And he almost didn’t get around to saying anything at all, distracted by kissing and feeling Sniper’s hands groping up and down his thighs, stopping to play at his chest for a little while, apparently amused by the noises he could wring out of Scout. That was the thing that had Scout all especially hot and bothered was how much Sniper clearly enjoyed getting reactions out of him.

“Uh, hey,” Scout tried to say, voice shaky and muffled against Sniper’s mouth, and Sniper slowed for a few seconds, pulling back to raise an eyebrow. “Uh. Remember that thing I said?”

“You say a lot of things,” Sniper deadpanned. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

Scout shifted, flushing. “I, uh. I meant about… how I said you should fuck me,” he tried, deciding he should probably just be outright.

Sniper raised an eyebrow. “Think you’re ready for that?” he asked bluntly.

“Well, why wouldn’t I be?” Scout challenged, trying to make light of it, like it wasn’t even a big deal.

“…If you’re sure,” Sniper hesitantly acquiesced, and looked at him for a few seconds, then shifted Scout up out of his lap. “Up for a mo’, we’ll need…”

Scout stripped off his shirt and pants while Sniper dug through his cabinets, and was sat cross-legged and mostly-naked by the time he got back and sat down again. Scout’s eyes locked on to the bottle he had in hand. Different kind of lube than he had, which shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. Did Sniper go to like, a specific place for sex stuff? Was there a specific place anywhere near them?

“Awright, would you rather try and muddle through this yourself, or should I give it a go? I know what I’m doing, might make it easier the first time if I take over,” Sniper explained, also tugging off his shirt and undershirt in steady motions.

“Uh. You, probably,” Scout shrugged, face heating up. He shifted. “Uh. How should I—?”

Sniper cut him off by just guiding Scout back into straddling his lap, guiding his underwear down his hips until Scout got the hint and stripped those off too. Sniper didn’t stare, although he did take a moment to tease at the inside of Scout’s thigh with one calloused thumb. “Legs as apart as you can,” he said, starting to lube up his fingers, getting it nice and warm.

Scout did his best, balancing himself with hands on Sniper’s shoulders, trying to find a comfortable position. His position was immediately made more comfortable by Sniper’s other hand putting down the bottle to instead take hold of his dick, giving light, testing strokes until Scout started trying to rock forward in earnest for more. He didn’t actually have much leverage, but Sniper at least caught on and started stroking in earnest.

He gave a final squeeze before he pulled that hand away to brace on Scout’s ass and spread him open a little, and his fingers—slicked and now also warm after the pause—slid down across a much wider expanse than Scout figured was totally necessary, an inch or so below his tailbone down to just at the place where his balls met his body. And for some reason he lingered even longer at the space just below his entrance, fingertips pressing in and kneading hard, and Scout squirmed at it, feeling oddly sensitive. It felt good, definitely, but also just… a weird kind of good. Not a bad weird, just—

“You’ll need to relax a bit,” Sniper said, gravelly from next to his ear, and Scout took a few deep breaths, relaxing further with each exhale. Sniper hummed approval, and then he ran the pads of his fingers briskly over Scout a few times, and…

Okay. Okay, clearly Sniper had done this before, because he used a good amount of pressure but it didn’t feel uncomfortable at all, just… and he didn’t know why he expected it to hurt, because again, Sniper was the one who had experience with this, so of course he—

Scout blinked once and twice with confusion when Sniper shifted his hold on Scout, looping an arm around his waist to help steady him while his hand moved, now tucking down beneath him to work at him from the front rather than the back, his palm brushing incidentally against Scout’s balls in a way that was lovely if unexpected.

“What’re…?” Scout started to ask, and was cut off by sucking air in through his teeth when Sniper’s fingers made contact again.

“Makes it easier,” Sniper explained quietly, simply. “Lean back a touch.”

Scout did, and almost wished he didn’t because then Sniper was looking at his face. Maybe his embarrassment showed, because Sniper leaned in to capture his lips briefly, and it did soothe him a little.

“It’ll help see if I’m doing it right if I can see your face,” he explained, which was fair enough that Scout nodded and fought the instinct to hide his face again.

He also fought the instinct to brace himself and tense when Sniper finally slipped just the smallest bit of his finger in, not even a centimeter, just enough to serve as a warning before he gave a proper push. And then he drew back and teased some more, and then he pressed back in again.

Overall, Scout was a little confused with how long it all was taking. Usually it was more of a show up, blow the guy, get blown, get offered a cigarette and refuse, head back to base kind of thing. But now Sniper was really lingering, really taking his time, going almost too slowly. But also Scout appreciated the slowness, but also Scout didn’t know where to put his hands, but also—

“You awright?” Sniper asked, and when had he gotten that far in? He was practically up to the second knuckle of his finger, and it didn’t hurt, not at all, if anything it felt good. “…Scout?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s good,” Scout answered, because it was, even if he didn’t really understand how.

“Good,” Sniper said, and shifted how he was holding Scout a little bit, and then he was pushing just a little bit further and curling his finger, once, then twice, and he was glad Sniper had moved to hold on a little tighter because Scout almost lost his balance with the way he jumped on the third press as he felt—

Oh. Oh, okay. So… maybe he’d been doing things wrong a little bit. Because he’d been—

A shaky swear tumbled out of his lips as Sniper repeated the motion more gently a few more times.

—because he’d been kind of looking for this feeling specifically and he’d just thought maybe it was made up or something but clearly it fuckin’ wasn’t because—

“Ready for another, you think?” Sniper asked, pulling him out of his own head just a little bit.

“I ‘unno,” Scout managed, words slurring together, unable to get his head together enough to answer. “Am I?”

“You feel ready,” Sniper replied, demonstrating with another smooth slide, and Scout panted his way through that shakily before Sniper spoke again. “Not hurting?”

Scout hummed out in the negative.

“Awright,” Sniper said, and pulled back out, and slid back in again with a second fingertip joining the first.

Slow going again, subtle little motions, and Sniper worked his thumb in counterpoint to those motions, little presses and kneads against that place beneath his balls that had felt all nice earlier, and it felt even better now, made him hum all the more. And he only had the leverage to rock back into it a little bit, but even then Sniper pulled back until he went still and relaxed again, then he set in, and Scout tried to keep himself in check, tried not to jerk his hips.

“Feels good, does it?” Sniper asked, and Scout opened his eyes—when had he closed them?—and saw that Sniper was smirking a little bit. Scout just nodded, and Sniper’s smirk widened. “This how to get you to shut up, then?”

“Whatever,” Scout managed, not exactly his snappiest comeback but also literally all he could think to say, his entire head feeling hazy and pleasure mounting like electricity.

“Just that this is the only time you don’t run your damn mouth like you’re trying to earn a trophy for it,” Sniper drawled, and now he had two fingers to curl and press, to knead just right with, to make Scout’s legs shake as he circled and pressed with expertise afforded by experience. “Only time you shut up is when I’m two fingers deep or buggering that pretty little mouth of yours.”

Scout shivered hard, couldn’t stiffle a sound of pleasure in time, and dipped his head to hide his face in Sniper’s shoulder, but that just made Sniper turn his head to mutter directly into Scout’s ear.

“Lovely thing, really are gorgeous like this,” Sniper continued, and Scout couldn’t deny that this was a lot, maybe even too much, having Sniper’s attention so firmly centered on him. “Being spread open and moaning for more, could really get used to seeing this.”

“Fuck, fuck,” Scout choked out, rocking back hard into the fingers, and this time Sniper allowed it. “Fuck, I, if you’re gonna—try to fuck me—then hurry the fuck up already—“

He cut himself off with a startled moan as Sniper’s hand moved from around his waist to instead grip at his erection boldly, not pumping or moving, letting the motion of Scout rocking back do all the work for him. “You won’t last that long,” Sniper replied, and Scout tried to protest for only a second or two before deciding that Sniper was right. “Maybe I get you off like this another time or two before we get to that. Get you used to it.”

Scout usually would’ve had something to say to that, but as it was all he could do was rock with more desperation, noises rising in volume.

“Hold on tight,” Sniper warned, “and don’t bite your tongue. Careful, now. Easy.”

And when Scout came it was intense, so much more intense than he was used to, and he felt it throbbing through his whole body, and he felt utterly spent when he finally came out the other side.

And Sniper gave him a few slow strokes to coax out the last sharp pangs of pleasure before he wrapped his arm back around Scout’s waist again to help support his weight. His other hand, while largely still, didn’t move, which Scout was beyond okay with.

Sniper started talking quietly. “Now I’m going to stay in for a moment just so you know what that feels like,” he said, speaking slowly, which was admittedly something Scout appreciated just then, brain absolute mush. “And it’ll start to feel uncomfortable, but I want you to know what that feels like and how fast that happens.”

He was right. It was a short moment or two later when Scout’s thighs tensed involuntarily as the shift happened from “good so good never stop so good” to “too much ow what the fuck”. And it wasn’t like, ridiculously bad, not like outright painful, but he still didn’t like it and after a second he moved to pull away when it was clear a Sniper wasn’t going to.

Then he glanced off to one side at the clock and froze when he realized they’d been at it for something in the ballpark of forty minutes.

Sniper, who was midway through fishing off the side of the bed to grab a shirt or something to wipe off his hands, spotted his expression and stopped moving. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothin’ wrong,” Scout said quickly, flushing. “Just, uh… didn’t think time would fly like that.”

Sniper huffed half a laugh, resuming in wiping off his hands. “Well, rather not rush,” he shrugged. “Didn’t want to turn you off of it entirely, and that’s easy to muck up and get hurt with.”

“Fuck, how many guys did you have to get with to figure out how to do that so good?” Scout asked, head starting to clear a little bit with each passing moment.

“Enough,” Sniper answered. “Been on either end enough times to know how to do things right, and how easy it is to go too quick and make someone nervous about trying again.”

“Well I definitely wanna try again,” Scout said, only a little embarrassed by his own enthusiasm. “Next time?”

“We’ll see if there’s a next time if there continues to be a this time, mate,” Sniper said, raising an eyebrow. “Planning on getting me off at some point?”

“Oh, yeah, right, uh—uh, I can blow you?” Scout offered quickly.

“Go on then,” Sniper urged, and Scout scrambled to shift their positions.

And the next day Sniper pulled him aside in the morning—a bit of a novelty, since Sniper didn’t tend to talk to anyone at all if he could help it unless they were one-on-one or it was necessary for the job—and asked if he was doing alright, and admitted that he noticed Scout was standing a bit awkwardly, and Scout socked him on the shoulder for not saying anything about being sore after. Sniper, to his credit, apologized. Scout, like an idiot, absolutely forgot about it the next time anyways.

Chapter Text

Sniper propped up on his elbows and looked Scout up and down. And the last few times he’d done that it had been in a teasing way, appraising and pleased, but this time was a slightly different rhythm, a slightly different arch to his brow. “Scout?” he asked carefully.

“Y-yeah?” Scout managed, flushed up to his ears.

“…You awright?” Sniper asked next in the very same tone.

“Yeah,” Scout said quickly.

“…Do you want to stop?” Sniper asked next, even slightly more careful.

“…Yeah,” Scout admitted, sitting up, expression tight. “I-I’m sorry.”

“S’alright,” Sniper assured easily, settling back a little. “Still feel like getting off?”

“Yeah,” Scout agreed.

And that was how the first three attempts at working Scout up to getting fucked went.

He wanted to bash his head against the wall until he could knock some fuckin’ sense into himself. He had nothing to be scared of. He knew he was gonna like it. Hell, Sniper had gotten him off by fucking him with his fingers a good few times already. Scout had started incorporating it into whenever he was jacking off, he liked getting pressed open so much. And maybe just because it was new and exciting, but he liked it! A lot!

And, okay, admittedly… maybe he’d been thinking about it. And now that he had something to go on maybe he was fantasizing a lot more about getting fucked. Maybe it was something that was on his mind when he was jacking off, the concept of Sniper doing that thing where he nipped at Scout’s neck while spreading him open, of Sniper fucking him hard and fast and—

And usually that was about where Scout was done jacking off, to be honest. Usually he didn’t need to move much further down that train of thought.

It was just that every time Sniper was actually all over him, he just… started getting kind of nervous. Because he just, he didn’t know where to put his hands, and what if he messed everything up—he didn’t even know how he would mess everything up, but with his track record he knew it was absolutely on the table.

And Sniper wasn’t even being an asshole about it. He was actually doing a really good job picking up on when Scout was starting to get overwhelmed. And that was kind of weird because it made him think maybe Sniper was picking up on other stuff that Scout was thinking but not saying out loud—

He wanted to just kind of move past this weird roadblock and get back to the part where they were having fun and not, like, being weird. And they’d tried things three ways—him on Sniper’s lap, him on all fours, and him on his back. And every time he just got freaked out and lost in his brain and they had to stop and he didn’t know what to do about it.

Sniper, the way he tended to do, solved the situation for Scout so he didn’t have to.

Scout walked into the camper and was shoved right back against the door again, and Sniper boxed him in with practically no effort at all, kissing him hard and demanding.

Scout was still reeling from that when Sniper pulled back and looked him in the eye. “You want me to fuck you?” he asked bluntly.

“Yeah,” Scout said, because he did.

“Good,” Sniper said, and started pulling Scout’s clothes off.

Scout was still a little stunned, a little caught off guard, but he did his best to help with the more finnicky parts of his outfit. His brain caught up to him a few moments later, forced him into stammering. “Wait,” he managed. Sniper paused, raising an eyebrow at him. “Wh—you gotta strip too, c’mon.”

That got Sniper to grin at least, starting to undo his own buckle.

Scout was stripped as far as kicking off one leg of his pants before Sniper hooked a hand under his knee and pulled, using it as leverage to pin Scout harder against the door, grinding against him in a few hard rolls before pulling himself together, attention recovered by Scout scrabbling at his shoulders for purchase.

His hand slid back behind him and between his legs, and Scout jumped slightly at the surprise of finding that Sniper had already slicked up his fingers. He hiked his knee higher against Sniper’s hip, and Sniper took that as permission, working up to two fingers without much trouble.

Scout, in the back corner of his mind not occupied by trying to keep from making a complete fool of himself, realized how genius this was. The problem was that Scout kept getting all wrapped up in his own head if he had too long to think about it, would freak himself out for no real reason. Sniper wasn’t giving him long enough to start overthinking things, just the time to process what was happening and react.

And it felt really fuckin’ nice actually to just sort of roll with the punches and—

He was snapped out of his train of thought by Sniper kissing him, hard, hard enough that his head thunked into the door behind him. And he grinded forward against Scout, nipped at his bottom lip to set him gasping, and pulled back enough to look at him.

“Ready, you think?” Sniper asked, and Scout processed that he was well worked open and starting to feel pretty desperate actually. So he nodded, hard and fast. “Out loud.”

“Yeah, c’mon,” Scout urged, rocking back against his fingers, and then they were gone, and Sniper was shifting—

“Hop up,” he instructed, and Scout did, arms wrapping up over his shoulders and legs around Sniper’s waist, and Sniper’s weight shifted forward to pin him all the harder to the door, and Sniper was lining up and holy shit—

He was pretty sure Sniper intended to double check that he really was ready, but Scout was gasping out pleads against his mouth, so he just skipped to pushing in, slow and easy.

And Scout focused on his breathing, first and foremost, because it went uneven and shaky, and he really needed to concentrate to try and get it back to something like an inhale and exhale. It was uncomfortable, for sure, but not the outright painful that he’d half expected somewhere in the back of his mind. And he couldn’t help the quiet gaspy little noises he made at each gentle roll of Sniper’s hips forward, couldn’t help the sudden weakness in his arms making him sink against the door uselessly until Sniper bodily lifted him back up into a more reasonable position and reminded him that he needed to support some amount of his own weight.

He zoned back in at Sniper gasping against his neck, gripping hard at his thigh, almost hard enough to hurt. ”Bugger,” he choked out, and Scout would absolutely be echoing a similar sentiment if he could get his mouth to form words.

Instead he just focused on breathing, on trying to get used to it, to the feeling of being so much more full than he could get himself on his own fingers, or even on Sniper’s. It was so goddamn good, almost too good, almost too much, and he wanted more.

“Fuck me,” Scout managed, voice weak, and Sniper did.

His first thrusts were slow and firm, with pausing and shifting in between, and then he settled into a rhythm, and Scout was sent gasping again, then up into moaning as Sniper shifted further and the friction of it all suddenly got so much more wonderful—

And he felt like he was being driven up and up and up, further and further, until clear thought was a speck in the distance and his shame was out of reach and he couldn’t help but bark out a sharp sound of pleasure when Sniper nipped just below his jaw, and it was a dam breaking. Suddenly with each thrust forward, each rattle of the belt of Scout’s pants (still hung around one ankle, and wasn’t that an image—), Scout was crying out, pleading for more, for faster, for harder, then finally just swearing when that didn’t speed up the pace even a little bit from the slow hard rolls Sniper had settled into against him, then he was out of any words at all, reduced to simple noise.

And he lost all concept of time, to be honest, had no idea how long they were there, but at some point Sniper seemed to sense something Scout couldn’t and started pumping at him with one rough hand, and when he finally came not long later it was pure euphoria, seemed to draw out for forever, and he was half-certain he almost pulled a muscle once he started coming down from it. And he wasn’t sure when Sniper had finished, but he was softening against Scout’s hip and breathing like he’d just run a marathon and flushed well down his neck, so Scout was at least reasonably sure that had been good for him too.

And he really did try to get some kind of witty phrase to say, tried to think of something funny to break the tension of the moment, but he couldn’t seem to get his voice back.

“Good?” Sniper asked, in control of himself far more than Scout was, guiding Scout back down to stand under his own power and keeping him supported for a moment since his legs were absolute jelly. Scout managed a noise of agreement, and Sniper huffed a laugh. “Seems I’ve buggered the words clean out of you, so I must’ve done something right.” Scout made another noise of agreement. “Need a lie down?”

And he was laid out next to Sniper the way he so often tended to be following their “hangouts”, and he mumbled some kind of warning that he might fall asleep, and Sniper replied that it was fine, and then he did fall asleep—

He blinked his eyes open and processed first the sound of birds, then the slow breathing of the person next to him, and realized, holy shit. He’d slept over at Sniper’s.

Then he realized, holy shit. Sniper let him sleep over.

Then he realized, holy shit. Sniper didn’t wake him up or anything. Was just totally cool with Scout spending the night.

…Wait. Were he and Sniper dating?

Holy shit.

Chapter Text

Scout felt another breeze come in through the window, full of that just-after-dark air, oddly humid in these parts of the canyons—or at least not as bone-dry as the rest of the time. Probably still dryer than the driest day in Massachusetts. It was refreshing, if nothing else, a little cool against the sweat collected all across his entire body.

How did he end up with his calves sweaty? People could actually sweat from their calves?

Sniper was heating something on his little one-spot stove thing that he had, and the warmth had filled the space quickly, making Scout an accidental barrier between the cool of the fresh air pouring through the dark window and the glowing, comforting glow from above the tiny kitchen.

He smelled heat and fat and heard a sizzling noise starting, popping and hissing faintly, and stirred where he was honestly starting to doze off a little. Turned his head to look, saw yellow in a tiny pan, smaller than two hands across. Sniper was thrown into sharp relief, all angles and shadows, warm on one side and almost violet on the other from some light on the distant base turning the night landscape an oily aubergine. He had on sweatpants, the ones he usually slept in, and Scout couldn’t for the life of him remember if that’s what Sniper had been wearing when he got there or if he was mixing the memory up with all the other late nights they’d had.

He rolled onto his side and pressed an elbow hard into the pillow under his head to try to smother the way that Sniper kind of just seemed handsome whenever he wasn’t even doing anything special. Relaxed again. Felt the fact that the cot was kind of damp with sweat in most parts of it. Felt his face burn.

“What’re you making?” he asked because his chest was too small to hold words and feelings.

“Egg,” Sniper answered. He wasn’t even trying to be short or anything, that was just the whole explanation. He was like that sometimes.

Scout looked at where Sniper had picked up their shirts and undershirts and hung them over the back of the booth seat at his little table. He was pretty sure he remembered knocking some of Sniper’s mail onto the ground at some point, but it was back on his table again, the corners all lined up. 

He didn’t know why these details were interesting to him, now, lately, but he couldn’t think of something else to fixate on besides the maelstrom of off feelings in his chest, so instead he looked at the details. His cabinets were all closed, he had socks on now even though he hadn’t twenty minutes earlier, his towel was folded on the towel rod. Scout watched his eyes flick up to the little clock he had, watched as he timed his motions out, apparently, eyebrows furrowing and fingers fidgeting with the heat setting on the little stovetop.

“You’re, like, kind of a control freak, huh?” he trailed, trying to bite the words back as they came out of his mouth unsuccessfully.

Sniper snorted, eyes falling narrow. “How’s that? Because of my eggs?” he teased.

“No, like,” Scout tried, and sighed when his brain fed him too many stupid things to say. Gave up. “Nevermind.”

“Awright,” Sniper shrugged, and Scout caught the corner of his mouth ticking up.

It itched at the edge of Scout’s focus, that shrug. He looked at where all the cigarette butts were firmly within the confines of the ashtray on his table, at how sure, Sniper didn’t have the strings tied on his pants, but he’d tucked them in, at least. Chewed his lip as he turned words over.

“You’re not even gonna ask again?” he blurted before even thirty seconds could pass.

“You’ll get to it or you won’t, mate,” Sniper shrugged.

Scout rolled his eyes reflexively. “It’s just, y’know,” he said, paused as Sniper went to pull out a plate from a half-step away and returned to the stove again. “Like, I dunno. You like being in charge, feels like.”

Sniper slid the egg onto the plate and started another one. “Or you like being bossed around,” Sniper supposed once he was done, glancing over at him.

“I mean, it’s fine, I don’t mind,” Scout assured, “if that’s a thing for you, it’s no problem. Just sayin’. I dunno. I’ll shut up.”

Sniper snorted under his breath as if that was a joke, and it made Scout bristle a little. Him and his stupid fucking mouth, always just saying shit and never able to stop himself in time. All things considered, at least Sniper was being cool about it instead of getting mad.

Hell, what was he even still doing here?

His plan had been to pretend to be too exhausted to get up to see if he could finesse his way into staying over for the night and maybe having some sleepy, easygoing morning sex before he had to make an excuse to go back to base just in case Sniper got annoyed at him for overstaying his welcome. They’d done that twice now, once because Sniper apparently woke up in the mood for it and once because Scout had woken up and caught Sniper just starting to stir and Sniper had done this thing where his nose wrinkled all weird when he’d yawned and rubbed his face and Scout hadn’t been able to put a lid on the urge to kiss him and Sniper had assumed that he was just turned on or something and Scout just rolled with it.

He kind of also just liked having sex with Sniper in the morning because the cliffs weren’t thrown into harsh shadows yet and he could actually see properly and it was kind of nice.

He buried his face into the pillow before his stupid fucking mouth could get any ideas about actually saying any of that.

The hiss and pops stopped as Sniper slid the egg onto the plate, and resumed as he started on another one. The air at his back was actually getting a little too cold, and the warmth at his front was a little stifling. He felt itchy and off-kilter, and the muscles of his lower stomach were starting to feel a little sore. He’d feel worse tomorrow, probably, but he could power through.

But now he seemed like he was awake, because he was running his mouth, so he should probably get up and get dressed and go. But Sniper was making eggs, and it wasn’t very late yet, all things considered. Maybe he was planning on staying up a little longer, maybe for a second go or something. That also wasn’t totally out of the ordinary. But maybe he wasn’t.

He could always get up and start something himself. Press into Sniper’s back and wrap arms around his waist and kiss him along the spine. Feel him up a little, maybe, his own fault for not having a shirt on. Was that what he was doing? Trying to bait Scout? Why else would he be trying so hard to look handsome?

He turned his head again to look at Sniper, and no, he wasn’t even trying particularly hard to look handsome, was he?

God, he was so fucked.

“Um,” Scout said, and managed to clench his teeth against a ’What are we?’ before it could spill out, but Sniper glanced over out of the corner of his eye after a beat of pause. He floundered. “Can I have some?”

Sniper reached for the countertop and handed Scout the plate—no, one plate, as in from the two that were there. There were two plates and two forks on the counter next to where he was doing the eggs. And Sniper put one of them up on the bed next to him. Of the two plates that there were.

’WHAT ARE WE???’

“Thanks,” Scout said sheepishly, went to take a bite, paused. “Wait, are you cool with me eating up here?”

A pause. “Half the sheets are wet, mate,” he finally said.

“It—that’s fair,” Scout said, face going a little red, taking a bite quickly.

He watched Sniper finish cooking the last egg and switch off the heat, choosing to lean a hip against the counter while he all but wolfed the food down.

His hair was sticking up all stupid near the middle of the back. Scout tucked into his own plate rather than commenting on it or staring at him, not sure what he would say if he got caught.

The sound of the pan going into the tiny sink, the plate and fork following after. The sound of a hiss as water connected with the pan, rinsing only briefly. It gave Scout time to finish forcing himself through the last few bites, and he went to get up properly to put the plate away, but Sniper just stepped over to take the plate as soon as he set his fork down.

“Thanks,” he said, twitchy under the effort of not running his mouth.

“No worries,” Sniper said easily, like an exhale, reflexive. Rinsed the plate for only a moment or two before washing his hands, flicking the water off and putting away the last of what he’d gotten out to cook with.

Scout felt antsy as Sniper returned to the bunk, hauling himself up without fanfare, maneuvering into the fairly small amount of space that wasn’t occupied, and Scout shuffled to give him room. Sniper leaned over him to reach for the hatch-window, tugging hard where it tended to stick and then easing it shut, latching it. The breeze ceased, and the room was instantly quieter.

“You don’t wanna smoke?” Scout asked, blinking up at him where he fussed with the shades.

“Nah, s’alright,” Sniper murmured, and returned to his elbow, moving to try to straighten the blanket one-armed before lying down. There wasn’t really a way to lie comfortably without touching in this small of a bed, and all down his leg he felt the worn soft-roughness of the same sweatpants Sniper wore most nights when he wore anything at all, and the worn soft-thinness of his sock where their feet nudged together. Sniper sprawled somewhat as he got comfortable, and Scout found himself needing to choose between sort of holding onto Sniper’s arm or draping it over his chest to be comfortable and not curled up awkwardly.

Sniper already had his eyes closed.

Scout felt something in his chest rub raw and his flighty self-control give way underneath it, and found himself frowning, sitting up, straddling Sniper, flushing further at his bare thighs bracketing Sniper’s clothed ones, the blanket falling away and not providing much of any modesty, as if he had any left to lose anyways.

Sniper’s eyes opened, but he didn’t look particularly surprised, just raising his eyebrows expectantly when the silence stretched from a beat into a moment.

“What’s your deal?” Scout demanded.

“Right?” Sniper chuckled, like something was funny. What was funny?

“What’s your problem? You’re being…” Scout fished, that antsy feeling building in the pit of his stomach. “I dunno. What’s up with you?”

“Mate, you’re the one who’s clearly got something to say. Go on,” Sniper scoffed.

Scout felt his heart leap into his throat. Swallowed hard against it.

“Tell me or don’t, I’m peaches either way,” Sniper shrugged, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes, looking nice and comfortable.

Asshole. Asshole!

“Which one is it? Are you a control freak or totally laid back all the time?” Scout demanded. “You can’t do both!”

“Watch me,” Sniper quipped, corner of his mouth ticking up again.

What game was this? Scout didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing. Was this flirting? It didn’t feel like foreplay, didn’t feel like the lead-ups they usually went through. Was Sniper mad at him? He didn’t seem mad, but also, had Sniper ever been mad before? Suddenly he couldn’t remember a single example of another human interaction he’d ever experienced in his entire life to compare against. Unhelpfully, he remembered a time when he’d tried to talk to Sniper during a mission and Sniper didn’t hear him and walked away and Scout was in a weird mood the whole day until he saw the same thing happen to Heavy and realized Sniper was just deaf as shit.

Not even remotely applicable or helpful to the current situation. Fuck. God damn it.

“Is this because I called you a control freak? Is that it?” Scout tried. “Are you mad about that? Am I in the doghouse or not?”

“Right,” Sniper said, maybe exhaling a little more forcefully than he’d tried to but not sighing, and he re-situated, hands on Scout’s thighs just above his knees, adjusted his head and shoulders to better look at him. “Genuinely, shoes, I’ve not the faintest what you’re on about. Or why you’ve decided I’m acting strange. Truly. But it seems like you’ve got something on your mind, and I’ll start being unhappy with you if you keep me up all night tossing and turning. So out with it.”

He wasn’t sure whether the shakiness in his hands was from being cold or nerves. Fuck. Shit.

’WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE????’ demanded one corner of his brain, and he clenched his teeth against it. He cursed internally as he saw Sniper notice, and of course he did. Of course he did!

All those years of practice saying literally whatever the fuck sprang to mind and now that he actually needed it, he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He wracked his brain.

“I’m not apologizing, you are kind of a control freak,” he said decisively.

Okay. Not a de-escalation, but that was fine. He could work with this.

“Because you’re completely bloody incapable of taking initiative and like getting pushed around?” Sniper pointed out, one hand squeezing at his hip pointedly, and they ached where there would probably be some bruises the next day.

“That’s not it! Even when you’re not throwin’ me like a sack of potatoes, you’re always calling the shots!” Scout insisted, wishing he didn’t sound petulant.

“And I’m sure it’s made you miserable, ‘asn’t it, princess?” Sniper cooed sarcastically, pinching him on the cheek faux-affectionately, and it made Scout’s stomach flip, quick to smack his hand away with the back of his own.

“Alright, genius, if you’re so goddamn laid back,” he scoffed, “what would you say about me topping next time, huh?”

He regretted it as soon as he said it, freezing, mouth snapping shut. Sniper’s eyebrows rose an increment, and he shrugged. “Awright,” he murmured, chuffed a laugh. “That’s what you were so fussed over? Here I thought you were gunning for inviting me to the year ten formal.”

Uh.

“What?”

“Oh, right. What do you call it here, er, ‘homecoming’, is it? Same time of year you do basketball?” Sniper tried.

“What? Oh. Uh, it’s football. Wait, you’re joking. You’re serious?”

“Mate, we don’t have all the same school dances, why would I know what they’re called?” Sniper deadpanned.

“I meant—the other thing. Me topping. You’re kidding. You’re serious? You’re kidding. You’re messing with me.”

“I’m serious,” Sniper confirmed, visibly fighting back a grin. “If you’re ready, at least.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Scout demanded, bristling.

“No need to get defensive,” Sniper said, tone more serious now, “just seemed like you might not be keen for whatever reason, is all. If you’re put off by it then it’s fine, that’s that, won’t say I’d be thrilled if we never trade off, but that’s just preferences, mate. If you’re nervous it can wait.”

“Nervous? I’m not nervous, why would I be nervous?” Scout stammered.

“Set you up on plenty of chances, and you never took them,” Sniper shrugged. “Some blokes get icked out by topping, is all. S’fine.”

“I mean,” Scout stammered, “well, you’re—what do you like more? Like, in general.”

Sniper considered the question, exhaled, truly seemed to think about it. “Probably head?” he ventured.

“Huh?” Scout asked.

“Yeah, dunno. If I get to pick, that’s it,” Sniper shrugged.

“Oh.” Somehow that hadn’t occurred as a viable option. He felt antsy as he tried to adjust to having unexpected leeway. “And between topping and bottoming?” Scout asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Not a massive difference, honestly. Ask on ten days and you’d get a different answer on each,” Sniper said. “Probably… three to seven, maybe?”

“Three of the days you’d rather bottom?” Scout repeated, surprised.

“Three I’d top,” Sniper clarified.

He seemed to read how taken aback Scout was by this, but didn’t look put off, just mulled some words over.

“Well,” he said, eyebrows furrowed, glancing off into middle distance as he thought hard. “In my head, at least. In practice, probably less. Probably lose its charm after a while. Might just be that it’s less frequent at the mo’, so it’s more interesting. Don’t tend to get there with most.”

“Oh. Like, besides… this?” Scout asked carefully, pointing back and forth between them. “Like, other times? Before, uh…” He felt awkwardness well up as he couldn’t seem to think of a word to say besides ‘us’, but he wasn’t even sure this was an ‘us’. Was it?

“Yeah. Prep takes a while, most times I’m not entirely certain the other bloke isn’t a lunatic, easier to just… skip it, do something else. I give good head, so it’s not commonly a problem.”

“You really do,” Scout agreed, and Sniper grinned, tipped his head in acceptance. He really did. Scout felt his mind wander for a second alongside looking over the bare landscape of Sniper’s chest, tried to shake it off and anchor again. “So you’d seriously be cool with it?”

“Yeah,” Sniper shrugged. “If you think you can handle it.”

“I can handle it,” Scout said, trying to inject some confidence into his voice, faltered.

“Bold enough to try tonight?” Sniper teased, and saw Scout go tense. “Figured. Listen, mate, bring it up when you feel like. I take requests.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Cool,” Scout said, trying to figure out how to make his brain work again. Him topping Sniper? Like, actually? Sniper being the one digging his fingers into the sheets? Or face pressed into the pillow? Or pinned up against the wall? Actually, he probably didn’t have the upper body strength for that. Sniper had a good, like, thirty pounds over him, or at least more strength in his torso. Actually, maybe it evened out. Or maybe he was just good at lifting Scout whenever he seemed to want to. “Cool. Cool cool.”

“Great,” Sniper agreed. A pause. “Speaking of taking requests, you, er, want any help with that?”

Scout blinked, realized with a start that he’d ended up half-hard with his mind wandering. “Uh. I’ll be fine,” he went to assure quickly, tugging the blanket to try to give himself a little modesty.

“You’re sure?” Sniper asked, hands finding his waist, shifting his legs a little, and Scout felt a hardness underneath him with the shifting, relaxed a little. “Don’t have it in you?”

Scout considered his options. Considered how sore he already sort of was. “You said getting head is your favorite, huh?” he said, trying for flirtatious, and Sniper grinned, so he must’ve done something right.

Scout blinked his eyes open where they’d fallen shut sometime after Sniper first kissed him, and promptly narrowed them in suspicion as he felt one of Sniper’s hands start tucking under his shirt a little, fingertips grazing over his hip, almost to his waist.

“Hey,” he mumbled, and Sniper hummed against his shoulder, continuing his work at giving him a very faint red scarf, nothing that would completely bruise—hopefully. “Uh. Do you want another beer, or…?”

Sniper didn’t answer him for a few long moments, just squeezing faintly, barely-there at his hip, stubble rasping at his collarbone.

Sniper had made a campfire to try to smoke some jerky by the time Scout came by with the excuse of some beers, but apparently gave up before getting into the process, instead cracking open one can for each of them out of the six pack and listening to Scout air his grievances with Engie over giving him shit about the supply order. It had gotten dark out fast, and Scout had barely made his way through half of his beer with how much talking he was doing and Sniper had finished his and set the empty bottle aside and had just, like, started laying into him. Out of nowhere, it seemed like.

And Scout wasn’t going to get mad or anything, he liked the attention, but what had started as a long and drawn out and nerve-wrackingly accidentally romantic make out was turning into a feel-up and the open air was new in a way that kind of made him twitchy.

“M’alright, you want another?” Sniper finally asked, pulling back enough to look at him, still close enough for his breath to be warm on Scout’s face. “You’re not done with the first.”

Scout realized he was still even holding onto his own bottle, and indeed it was still barely past the label. He went to take a drink while he thought of an answer. “Uh, I’m good. I can, uh,” he said, and his thigh jumped a little as Sniper’s thumb slid down along the vee of his hip. “Um. Put them in your fridge if you want?”

“S’alright,” Sniper shrugged, leaned back in, went back to work just under Scout’s ear now.

“Uh, hey,” Scout tried, other hand tightening against the back of Sniper’s shirt, “remember, I can’t have marks and stuff, I don’t need—“

“—an interrogation from the whole team when they can check the logs and see you never leaving base,” Sniper recited under his breath, pressed a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, “I know, you’ve only said a hundred times. We shower in stalls, mate, could at least put them under where your shirt is, blokes would be none the wiser, yeah?”

“I walk around with my shirt off sometimes,” Scout said, face flushing. Sniper hummed, nosed in to tip Scout’s chin up, and his breath caught a little. When had he leaned back like this? Sniper’s other hand cupped at the arch of his lower back, helping to hold him up, and he forced himself to hold his bottle back upright before it could spill, swallowed hard, tried to force his voice even. “Jesus, you really like doin’ that, huh?”

“You squeak like a rabbit when I do, what, are we meant to pretend you’re not all for it?” Sniper teased, squeezing slightly, and Scout couldn’t hold back a little sound, face flushing as he realized how obvious he probably was.

The sound of crickets around them, the fire crackling so incredibly faintly, the low light, the placebo of half of a beer, the warmth, not stifling, the closeness, he felt something in his chest aching and fought hard to crush it out. It was hard-won.

“Alright, hey, seriously,” Scout managed, a little strangled, pushing a bit, and Sniper leaned back up, let Scout ease back into a more comfortable position. Scout forced himself to hold eye contact despite the ease in Sniper’s expression making his stomach flip. “For real. We’re on the whole ground outside. You can’t seriously be trying to start something.”

Sniper frowned a little before he seemed to understand what Scout meant and snickered. “Oh, that’s the line for you? You’ll do the rest but you won’t have a wank outdoors?”

“I’m not having sex outside!” Scout insisted.

“You hit people with a blunt weapon until dead, but you won’t have sex unless there’s enough walls,” Sniper enunciated, way too entertained for Scout’s liking.

“We’re outside,” Scout stressed, “literally like every horror movie has a bit where—hey!”

Scout wished it didn’t sound so much like a yelp, but in his defense, Sniper had used his hold on Scout to bodily haul him into a full recline. He pulled Scout’s thigh up to bite at the inside of his knee, able to bite pretty hard with the fabric in the way to cushion it, and it made him jerk again, this time stifling the sound and then sighing hard.

“I’m not joking,” he said in his best attempt at a firm tone, “we’re not having sex outside in the dirt and grass and junk. It’s not happening.”

“Unfortunate time to pick to say that,” Sniper joked, and Scout remembered belatedly to put up some resistance to not just let Sniper push his legs an increment apart. “What if I don’t invite you in now? Just wind you up then leave you out to dry?”

Scout fumbled for a reason to not immediately cave to his libido and to instead follow his better judgement. He really needed to not fool around with Sniper in the gentle light of a campfire under the stars. He REALLY needed to not do that, because he was frankly already losing the plot, probably. He and Sniper had been meeting up and having sex and maybe drinking a little beforehand and maybe eating together afterwards as a precursor to having more sex and it was crucial that he not fuck up a good thing by getting illusions of romanticism from actual baseline courtesy and the fact that Sniper was good-looking. A few weeks—or, actually, a few months, now, wasn’t it?—of kissing on the regular did not mean that he should catch feelings.

Sniper leaned in to press closed-mouth kisses along the line of his throat, and Scout swallowed hard again. This is just a crush. A crush he was having sex with, yes, but still just a crush. This wasn’t serious. Calm down.

“If you don’t invite me in, how am I supposed to fuck you?” Scout tried, and Sniper hummed a chuckle, pressed a lingering kiss to his jugular.

“I see how it is. Holding that over my head now, are we?” Sniper sighed, leaning back up. “Think that’s all you need to say to get whatever you want?”

“Basically,” Scout agreed, and Sniper raised his eyebrows.

“You actually feel ready?” Sniper asked, tone going light. “I’m in no rush, mate.”

“Yeah, it’s cool, I’m cool,” Scout assured, starting to sit up. “Uh. If you’re all good?”

Sniper nodded, sat up, winced as something popped in his shoulder, rolled it out. “I should put the fire out,” he murmured, hefting himself to his feet to go retrieve the bucket of water.

Scout sat up. Put Sniper’s empty bottle back with the others, took a sip of his own, poured the rest out into the sand and clay where it sloped a bit, put his own next to it. Picked at the label for a second as his pulse felt oddly nauseating.

“I’m gonna, uh, take these in,” Scout said, scooping up the carrier. Sniper hummed in the affirmative, starting to kick sand and clay over the fire.

On the other side of the camper door, he was able to run his hands through his hair, flushed and flustered.

Calm down. Just chill out. Just enjoy the casual sex like a normal person and stop making things complicated.

He glanced around the camper briefly. Went to put the other beers in the fridge. Thought about opening one, drawing this out a little longer. Decided against it.

Took his shoes off, at least, set them by the door. Used the bathroom. Washed his hands, splashed water on his face, toweled it off. Washed his hands again and got under his nails. Just in case.

He was overthinking this.

Sniper came inside, shut the door behind him, and Scout spent a second steeling himself as he heard him lean to take his boots off. Just don’t make this more serious than it is. Easy. Casual. Chill. Like he used to do before he started unpacking the ‘liking dudes just as much as girls but like, in a different way, kind of’ thing.

He inhaled, exhaled. He could do this.

He headed back into the main part of the camper. Sniper was leaned against the table getting his boots off. Scout moved past him to where the drawer was that they kept lube and condoms in, fished them out, back-pocketed them. Ran a hand through his hair.

He could do this.

“Dealer’s choice on where we—“ Sniper started to say, but was cut off as Scout took the few steps over and pulled Sniper into a lean with a hand on the back of his neck, kissing him first on the corner of his mouth, then straight on.

Whatever this crush was, it would go away soon, probably. Or Sniper would get bored. Whichever came first.

He kissed Sniper at an odd angle, just a slight tilt off of something good, and kept tilting a bit further every time Sniper tried to fix it. Made him chase, made him lean, made him start working for it, wanting it. An old trick but a reliable one.

Sniper grunted faintly and tilted hard into the kiss to fight it, trying to just take what he wanted rather than asking, and gasped a little as his reward was a hand cupping at the front of his pants.

“You’re that excited?” Sniper teased, nearly close enough to press their foreheads together.

“Clearly you are,” Scout murmured, shifted forward until his own hips were pressed into the back of his hand, and Sniper didn’t argue the point, just leaning back in again.

Just be fucking cool.

The hand on the back of his neck held him leaned in, kept him off balance while Scout felt out that he didn’t have a belt on and popped the button open on his pants. Two fingers through the empty belt loop at his hip to haul his hips up and forward into a grind against Scout’s thigh. Sniper growled what might’ve been a swear out against his lips, but he didn’t quite catch it.

He’d done this shit before, just be cool and don’t fuck it up. It being Sniper shouldn’t freak him out.

Sniper had a hand sliding up beneath his shirt, a little chilly from being outside, but warm near the palm. He gasped at blunt nails nonetheless drawing lines from his shoulder blade to near his hip, felt Sniper fight back a grin, felt his own face burning.

“I should tell you,” Sniper started, and Scout drew back to look at him, shaken from his thoughts. “If you’re certain you don’t want any marks or anything, I, er… might get carried away. I can get,” he started to say, seemed to chew on his words for a second, “…intense.”

Scout swallowed hard, saw the way Sniper eyed the way his throat moved with it. “Like, more than usual?” he asked and wished he’d kept his mouth shut.

“Tend to forget myself a bit,” Sniper shrugged.

“Then turn around,” Scout bit out, maybe not as confident as he would’ve wanted, but Sniper didn’t give him any flak for it, just grinning and nudging Scout back a half step to get room before following the direction.

Scout pressed into his back, only thrown momentarily by the height differential, trailing his hand down the front of Sniper’s pants, surprised to find that he was actually wearing boxers for once, and then even more surprised when he took hold of him and found how little work he would need to do to get Sniper on board. He was already so hard it threw Scout off for a moment.

“Damn,” he breathed as Sniper audibly hissed through his teeth, breath going tense for a moment, feeling him out and following a slight dampness to find the head, faintly leaking, and it sent him spinning a little when Sniper’s voice squeaked up an octave out of his usual baritone. “You’re really fuckin’ into this, huh?”

“Miserable, actually,” Sniper snarked despite how his voice was uneven.

“Jesus. If you miss this so much, how come you don’t do it more often? Or didn’t ask sooner?” Scout asked reflexively.

“Oh, fantastic, I’m being interviewed.” Sniper started working on unbuttoning his shirt. “Is now really the time? Can we skip this for the moment?”

“Uh, sure,” Scout rushed to say, moving to start actually getting Sniper out of his pants.

It was quick work unfastening his pants and letting them drop, and Scout took a second to fumble for the lube he’d pocketed, not needing to step away to slick his fingers up, even if Sniper jumped a little bit at the chill of the room temperature lube when they were both so hot to the touch.

“Just, uh,” Scout stammered, trying to remember any of the hot or soothing things Sniper usually said to him and feeling his train of thought stutter to a halt. “Just relax. I’ve got it.”

Sniper spent a second situating himself where he’d only been halfway through fighting out of his shirt, reaching out forward across the table and flicking the shades that fraction lower. Took what probably wasn’t meant to be an audible deep breath as Scout set to prepping him, surprised to find it less confusing than he’d built it up to be in his mind, halfway between what his experience was with whatever girls he ended up with and what he did to himself sometimes. Slower, easier when he trailed his other hand up the inside of Sniper’s thigh to take hold of him again, and Sniper’s breath caught for a second, head dropping forward. “Mate, I don’t need a pep talk,” he grit out, voice still full of humor.

“Just let me fuckin’ take care of it, okay? Jesus,” Scout mumbled. “This is what I meant by control freak. I’m topping, so I’ve got this, okay?”

“Fine. But I swear if you’re a bad lay I’m making you do the walk of shame,” Sniper threatened, voice still unsteady, and his voice cracked against an exhale as Scout twisted his hand around, trying to figure out the angle.

“I’ve got it,” Scout assured, quiet instead of irritated despite himself, unable to work up a temper over it. He took his free hand away from Sniper’s dick to instead tug on the collar of his shirt, trying to remind him, and after a second Sniper returned to trying to get it off, pausing intermittently as Scout made progress. For a second his arms were tangled behind him oddly, and Scout only barely managed to lean out of the way before he got elbowed, but he figured it out until he was just in his white tank, stuck to his back where he was sweating, and he gave up, leaning on his elbow, other hand holding the edge of the table.

Scout eyed the span of Sniper’s shoulders, his muscles thrown into sharp relief in his current pose, and focused on that, the heat just barely beginning to overtake his nerves, glossing over the slight pit and letting him get distracted from it. He squeezed at the space above Sniper’s hip until he relaxed, falling into a more comfortable-looking stance and jolting faintly as Scout took advantage of the more convenient angle.

“Fuck,” Sniper gritted out, head dropping forward another increment.

“Good?” Scout asked, letting up for a second.

“Yeah,” Sniper agreed, nodding, then shaking his head. “Might—little dry, actually.”

Scout fought to get the lube back out of his pocket one-handed, struggled with the cap for a second.

“Sorry, mate,” Sniper apologized, exhaled shakily as Scout finally got the cap open and realized too late that it was still chilly.

“It’s… fine?” Scout said carefully. “Uh. Better?”

“Yeah.”

Scout just dropped the bottle on the booth seat instead of trying to get it back in his pocket, went to get his own pants open and out of the way, same with his jock, finding it harder to multi-task than he’d expected. Getting the condom wrapper open was the only part that was easy, since he always resorted to getting it open with his teeth anyways.

He swore to himself under his breath as he needed to lean for the lube again, and Sniper tensed a little, going quiet as Scout pulled his hand free and found himself basically grinding on him as he tried to reach the stupid thing.

“You need a rubber?” Sniper asked, voice a little tight, leaning back into him.

“I got one,” Scout said, finally getting hold of the bottle and leaning back up to slick himself up, glancing around their vicinity for something to clean his hand off with, settling for the hand towel by the sink a few feet away.

“It’s not a bloody commentary, I’m just asking,” Sniper said, exhaled a little when Scout leaned back against him again, “I’m just, making sure, right?”

“Relax,” Scout said, trying to find a good angle to stand at.

“Do not get a tone with me, I’m not having a go at you, mate,” Sniper snapped, looking up over his shoulder to glare at him.

“No, I mean like, relax, like, physically,” Scout rushed to say, “I’m, we’re good. I’m—are you good?”

Sniper paused for a second, leaned a little more comfortably again, expression softening for the moment Scout could see it. “Yeah. Yes. I’m awright.”

“Cool. Awesome.” Scout fidgeted. “Uh.”

“So get on with it,” Sniper prompted.

“Yeah,” Scout said, found his angle, pressed forward, shifted his feet, pressed harder.

Sniper groaned, head dropping forward. “Bloody finally,” he murmured half to himself.

“I’ve got it,” Scout said, squeezing at his lower back for a second to coax him into a better height as he found a good angle, managing to keep his voice even. “Anything hurt?”

“Nah,” Sniper sighed, shifting a little, and Scout bit back a hiss.

“Good, just relax,” Scout said, shifted his hips a little, rolled, and Sniper hummed again, back to gripping the table. Scout took hold of his waist and used his leverage to roll his hips a few more times, setting a slow rhythm, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Sniper was more responsive than he’d expected, drawn up into a breathlessness that had him exhaling through his mouth within a few moments, clearly trying to be quiet but not quite able to manage it. A startled gasp let Scout know he’d found a good angle, and he adjusted to match it, and Sniper swore faintly a few times before it fell into just vague noises, gasps and moans that made Scout have to really fight to focus.

This part was easy. Sniper facing away meant Scout didn’t have to fight to keep his expression in check, could just watch the way he tensed and shivered and shifted with whatever stupid look on his face always seemed to happen. He trailed a hand up to scratch through Sniper’s hair for a moment, felt his heart skip a beat at the way Sniper groaned and tipped back into it.

“How do you usually like it?” he asked, damn proud of himself for not being out of breath yet. Cardio was not to be underestimated. “Faster, slower?”

“Harder,” Sniper answered, voice wavering, shivering hard.

“Sure,” Scout agreed, paused for a moment to prop his own knee up on the table for a better angle. Sniper borderline yelped at the first few hard rolls, and Scout flushed a little. “Like that, babe? Seems like you like it.”

“Fuck,” Sniper managed, going white-knuckled where he held onto the table to keep himself steady before easing back up again.

Scout felt his libido screaming for him to just go for broke but fought it off, focused on the pleasant burn in his thighs and abs at the hard, repetitive motion, focused on breathing. He had to get a hand on the table to keep his balance as a muscle in his back twinged a warning, other holding onto the Sniper’s hip just above where his own thigh was pressing into the other man’s.

Sniper’s borderline falling apart on him, and it doesn’t take long for him to start trying to rock back into him, largely ineffectually. Scout put a little roll onto the end of his thrusts to try to settle him again, and Sniper’s grip moved from the table to Scout’s forearm next to him, where Scout can feel his hand tighten almost to bruising with every thrust.

“Take it easy,” Scout soothed, and it makes Sniper relax some fraction, a noise following every few thrusts as he loses his composure. “There you go.”

“How’re,” Sniper tried, voice weak and breaking, and Scout felt a swell of affection followed by a flush of nervousness.

“Some of us don’t skip leg day,” Scout answered, letting it be a bit of an ego boost. He was maybe getting out of breath a little more than he let on, but the physical endurance was never the problem. It was how hot it was to watch Sniper losing it and the rush of power that he hadn’t expected to like this much.

Sniper swore a few more times, struggling to get a hand onto himself, unable to hold himself upright long enough, then rolling back half-desperately when he couldn’t manage it.

“Here,” Scout breathed, pulling back a bit and hooking a hand in the back of Sniper’s shirt to coax him upright. In a moment he was standing, fumbling, trying to kick a leg free of his pants as Scout switched their positions and he became the one with a hand and knee on the table, back pressed flush to Scout’s front.

“C’mon,” he complained halfheartedly as Scout tried to find a comfortable way to stand, and gasped forcefully as Scout gave a few testing thrusts to find that angle he liked again. “Bloody, c’mon—“

Scout shushed him vaguely, distracted and trying to shake free of it, relieved as he apparently did something right again. “There you go,” he mumbled, and started in on a hard rhythm this time, full depth instead of something more focused, something he knew would wear him out, but judging from the heat flooding off of Sniper, he wouldn’t need to carry on for very long.

“Menace,” Sniper complained just over the sound of their bodies colliding, unable to muster any venom, and a different sound wrung free of him that told Scout he’d probably taken hold of himself.

“Hey,” Scout whined, reached around him to replace Sniper’s hand with his own, tight but still. “I’ve got it.”

“Bloody—tease,” Sniper growled, trying to get Scout’s hand out of the way, but his hand was shaking and clumsy.

“Maybe,” Scout agreed, thrill rushing through him as he realized just how much the positions had flipped. “If this counts as teasing to you.”

“You buggering—“ Sniper went, only for a moan to startle out of him, panting hard. “You’ve had your fun, mate, let me have mine—“

“You’re having fun,” Scout hummed peacefully, not bothering to fight back a smile as Sniper clearly involuntarily dug his nails into Scout’s wrist when he squeezed just a bit harder.

“I’m not going to beg,” Sniper snapped, and Scout considered for a moment testing that. “Scout.”

“Okay, okay,” Scout finally said, and shifted his stance an increment.

He slowed to hard, short rolls, hardly back and forth, shallower now but right on target as Sniper swore hard. He jerked in double-time, and Sniper babbled, hand going tight enough to slow Scout’s arm down before whipping around to instead grab his wrist where Scout held his hip.

“Ah!” he gasped, hoarse and high, and it made Scout absolutely throb, especially as he felt Sniper get that increment harder in his hand, twitching. “AH, ah, fuck, mmh…”

He went tense, shivering hard as he rode it out, and Scout closed his eyes and focused as hard as he could to not lose the thread.

Finally Sniper started to sag, grip loosening after another moment, breathing hard. Scout let go of him and wiped his hand off on Sniper’s thigh, panting hard himself.

“Here,” Sniper managed, a little hoarse, easing Scout back a bit, then forward again, and Scout whined at Sniper pressing his thighs together around him.

Scout took the permission and started rutting hard, rhythmless now, groping blindly at Sniper’s chest to ground himself a little bit until the thread broke, letting him hum through the aftershocks, leaving them both some degree of wrecked. Sniper clearly moreso from the way his chest was still rapidly rising and falling under Scout’s fingers, but only barely.

Sniper straightened up a little, arm bending and hand finding Scout’s head, tousling clumsily through his hair for a second, making Scout’s nerves rear their head again at the affection of it. Up until the moment Sniper’s fingers tangled in and went absolutely taut.

“Ow, ow, hey, ow!” he yelped when Sniper didn’t let up, struggling to keep his balance as he was yanked.

“You’re a bloody service top, and you DIDN’T TELL ME?” Sniper growled.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you’re not allowed to complain when you were bossing me around and backseating for the first half of that,” Scout stammered.

“Shut y’self,” Sniper scoffed, letting up, scratching nails against his scalp what might’ve been apologetically when Scout huffed in complaint. He managed to get his knee down from the table, standing unsteadily and settling back into Scout’s hold, one hand settling on the table. “Ngh, fuck. Unbelievable. Genuinely.”

Scout felt as his breath started evening out, making no attempt to pull away, forehead settling to rest against his spine. The air in the van was thick, and they both probably absolutely reeked of sweat and sex, and somehow all of that just made that warm feeling swell in his chest. “…So it was good?”

“I am going to skin you,” Sniper enunciated.

“Okay, see, but that doesn’t actually answer my question at all, is the thing.”

“Yes, it was good. It was fantastic. That’s why I’m pissed.”

“Hey, guy, I was literally exclusively banging chicks before this. It’s not my fault you never asked.”

Sniper mumbled something that might’ve been another complaint, but didn’t argue the point further.

“Hey, and why didn’t you ask?” Scout asked, remembering that he never got a real answer.

Sniper paused for a few moments, still and quiet. Scout watched a drop of sweat migrate down his neck. “M’not—“ Sniper started, paused again.

The drop made it out of sight towards his collarbone. Scout traced the lines in the fabric of his tank top with his nails and waited.

“I get odd,” Sniper finally said, a little stilted, “when I’m, er, on catcher. I can get a bit toey. Stressed out. And I’m not sure most blokes would be… understanding of that.”

“Oh,” Scout said, not sure what he meant, but sensing Sniper was trying to scope out his reaction.

“I generally wait until I know I can actually trust a bloke beforehand. To not be a total jag. So… yeah, s’pose that’s all.”

So many complicated feelings that Scout didn’t know where to start. “Oh, okay. Uh.” He wrestled internally for something reasonable and sensitive to say. “I’m glad you don’t think I suck?”

Sniper chuffed a laugh, some kind of invisible tension broken. “Right, bar’s a little higher than that,” he said, tousling Scout’s hair again.

“Uh, thanks,” Scout said, unsure what else would be right to say.

'What are we?'

“Uh,” Scout said, tense and anxious.

“I’m gonna clean up,” Sniper said, squeezing Scout’s arm before stepping free, still clearly a little weak in the legs but powering through. Scout wracked his brain and came up empty—or at least only full of things he absolutely should not say. “Be back.”

He stepped into the little bathroom and Scout heard a beat of pause before the water started running, tongue-tied and pissed off about it. He went to discard the condom after a moment, paused, wiped himself back off with that hand towel from before, hoping Sniper wouldn’t be too annoyed about it.

Sniper wasn’t long, and they traded places while Scout used the bathroom. When he came back out, Sniper was looking through his cabinets, having put his sweatpants on.

Scout fidgeted.

“Can I, uh,” Scout said, and Sniper hummed, and he felt his confidence flood back away again. “Do you want me to stay the night?”

Sniper gave him an odd look, an up-and-down, one Scout didn’t know how to read. “Sure,” Sniper said, looking back in the cabinet again. “You hungry by any chance?”

“Uh,” Scout said, realizing that he really was. “Kinda.”

“How hungry?”

Starving. “A little, it’s whatever.”

“Would you split,” Sniper said, squinting into the cabinets, “a mixed rice, maybe?”

“Uh,” he said, thought about what it would be like to stand there and wait around while Sniper cooked him something and he had nothing to do. Fought for something to say. “Um.”

Sniper looked over after a second when he didn’t answer. Frowned a little. “You awright?”

“Uh, yeah!” Scout insisted, fell quiet again. There was a beat.

Sniper looked him over. His eyebrows were drawing together. “If you’d rather not stay, s’fine,” he finally said, a little flat.

“I do,” Scout protested, faltered. “Uh.”

Sniper had gone from relaxed to tense, sometime between Scout leaving the bathroom and now, and it wasn’t helping his nerves at all. “Out with it,” he prompted, looking away back into the cabinet and shuffling some boxes around.

“Uh, can I make, the food?” he asked awkwardly.

Sniper relaxed an increment. “That’s what you wanted?” he asked, in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Scout said, hated himself, “just, I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

“For the first time ever?” Sniper teased, back to easygoing again over the course of moments. “How’s this, you do the rice, I’ll go do some meat on the coals outside.”

“Sure,” Scout agreed. “Yeah.”

Sniper took the rice and pot out for Scout and fished in the little fridge for the meat he’d had in there, grabbing his flint and steel and heading back outside again, bumping shoulders with Scout on his way past, letting the screen door close but leaving the outside door open. The cool night air started to seep in and the smell of heat started fading, but his head wasn’t done swimming.

It wasn’t the rabbit meat he’d caught, it looked like. It looked like steak. He was making steak for Scout. They were going to eat steak together, alone. In Sniper’s house.

Fuck his stupid fucking cartoon idiot life.