Chapter Text
[28th November, 1968 07:45 PM]
So that was it for them. The room was perfectly quiet, except for BLU Heavy coughing and choking on something she had had in her mouth. Spy's hand set the wine glass down before going up to straighten her tie, one finger slipping under the lapel of her coat.
“You- God, you all make my life worse. What are you even doing?!”
Watching the BLU mercenary's hand, Sniper leaned in and whispered. “The hell? You're armed?”
“You aren't?” Spy's lips barely moved as she replied, eyes glued to the woman in the doorway.
Of course she was, but rather out of a force of habit, as she usually did not spare the knife in her boot any thought until it was needed. It would not be of much use tonight. Miss Pauling took two steps forward and shut the door behind her. Beneath the cat eye glasses, her eyes darted around the room, as if checking if everyone was indeed there, all breaking the rules. The matte fabric of her coat curved more on the left side; she might've had left the papers behind, but not her hip holster and what was in it. Not knowing what to do, she stayed put, her knuckles going white from gripping the edge of the table. All the bad decisions she had made so far had all led to this very night, and to say the least, she wasn't too proud of it. Nor did she feel ready to go. Not with so many things left unfinished, and many things unsaid. And who will let her parents know? Absolutely no one. Most courageous of them all, the RED Pyro rose from their seat.
“Do you even realize- do you know how hard is it to dig in winter? Do you know how hard it is to go and find people and scour jails and organize everything and get all the documents and- and...” The woman stopped for a moment as her voice cracked. “...this is going to be so much work, oh God...”
At first she was quite sure her teammate was picking their chair up to throw it at the Administrator's assistant – it would be quite the bold starter – but the arsonist instead brought it over to the end of the table where the accidental extra plate was. An empty shot glass someone had left on it was swiftly disposed of by being thrown behind the mercenary to shatter in the corner of the room.
“What are you–?”
“Heyyyyyyy, Miss P...” The RED Scout practically jumped out of her seat and dashed as nonchalantly as possible, which is not possible, to the woman's side, holding her hand out. “C'mon sit with us, we wanted to invite ya buuuut we can't really reach ya, right? But like, we figured ya would show up so we saved ya a seat, I mean uh...”
The girl turned her head to glance at Pyro while Miss Pauling's entire face scrunched up. Sniper glanced away from the uncomfortable scene unfolding in front of them and at Spy only to find the woman already looking at her, with her lips pressed into a thin line.
“We uh well we actually only saved ya a plate 'cause we ran outta chairs, 'cause we both just had nine dinin' chairs so ya know, why would we have more anyways- so yeah don't worry 'bout Py there, they ain't eatin' anyways they've been just kinda drinkin' through the mask. Yeah.”
“Ummm...”
“MISS PAULING.” A few mercenaries flinched as the BLU Soldier unexpectedly slammed her fists on the table before getting up. “As a PROUD AMERICAN you are invited to the PROUD AMERICAN HOLIDAY of THANKSGIVING, to celebrate the day we TOOK AMERICA BACK from those BRITISH HIPPIES!”
“That's- that's Fourth of July? No, no, I can't, don't make this even more difficult for me, I...”
Disregarding Scout's already hanging hand, Pyro wrapped one arm around the Administrator's assistant's waist, gently pushing her towards the free seat, mumbling something no one could understand the whole time. As she took a few unsteady steps forward, chatter picked back up again, everyone talking over themselves while recommending what to try from the table, listing their impressive collection of booze, the BLU Engineer confidently poured way too much cognac into a wine glass while the opposite team's Medic was already putting some apple cake on the nineteenth plate. Guided by the RED mercenary, Miss Pauling hesitantly sat down. The circles under her glossy eyes became more apparent when she removed her glasses to hold her head in hands more comfortably. Looking at all the people rushing to say something to her or bring something from the other side of the table to her plate, Sniper could not tell whether it was partially genuine, or just everyone trying to go along with the spontaneous lie to avoid execution. Nor if it was working. With her legs perfectly still, her heart was running a marathon by itself. Spy lowered her hand back under the table.
“...do ya think we'll live through this?”
“We will have to delay the smoke break I am afraid” The masked mercenary placed a hand on the other's thigh, stroking it gently with her thumb. “But yes, of course.”
“Are ya sure about that?”
“Non. However I would like to believe it.”
Not as reassuring as she had hoped. It got even worse when the gloved hand left her leg as Spy got up and walked away to exchange a few words with her team's Medic, over by the end of the table. As soon as she was gone, and because all the seats around them emptied as well, giving them at least a smidge of privacy, the BLU Sniper leaned over the table, almost knocking a plate of smoked salmon over, half yelling half whispering at her.
“Do we do anything?” She looked over at the Administrator's assistant then back at the RED mercenary. “Think she's crying over there?”
“I uhhh...”
Miss Pauling was indeed now crying into one hand while hunched over her overfilled plate, the glass of cognac in the other one, the reddish liquid swaying back and forth with the sobs. Having about a dozen people paying attention to it and all talking over each other probably wasn't helping. A few paces away, in the corner, Spy was having an inaudible yet visibly heated argument with her Medic.
“...well uhh considerin' she didn't shoot us all one by one yet we are probably alroight... hell, I dunno. Pass me that vodka to ya left, I don't want to pass away with a dry throat.”
The BLU mercenary reached over to grab the other's glass and poured them both a shot. “Yeah, same. Though it doesn't feel, like, real, does it?”
The glasses clinked together before being emptied.
“Hmm yea, nah, it doesn't. Lady Death's sittin' over there 'n' sure, I'm thinkin' about it but... think I should be panickin' more.”
The glasses were refilled and emptied again.
“I'm feeling a- it's like, a disconnection between my head and body, or something like that.” Her friend laughed briefly, but as soon as it was over her face fell again. “I'm both shitting myself and totally relaxed, you know?”
Her mouth opened and closed a few times as Sniper tried to put a coherent response together, and failed. She looked over at Spy on the other side of the room again. Having finished arguing with the doctor, the woman was by her enemy counterpart, both staring at Miss Pauling and talking in a hushed tone, not betraying even a hint of stress. As soon as she comes back, they are leaving this accursed place, no debate. And if she tries to debate her, then Sniper would simply throw in the towel and go home alone.
“...hey uh, on another note, in case we do survive this night. Are you coming over to Spy's bed tonight or something?”
“Uhhh... wha–”
“Okay that sounded weird as hell I meant that err if you end up at our base at some point, you could visit my room for a moment, eh?” A smile returned to her friend's face, although it seemed rather uneasy. “And if we don't survive tonight then well, then... then not. I guess.”
“...would like that actually, we'll see later...”
Seeing as the masked mercenary was on her way back, Sniper downed one more shot and got up, grimacing briefly at her sore tailbone. Dining chairs were good to sot on for about thirty minutes at most, no longer. The BLU mercenary wasn't even looking at her, instead exchanging a stare with her friend, eyes slightly squinted. Something to ask them both about, if they live long enough.
“Are we..?”
“We are leaving.” Spy shot the BLU Sniper another cold look. “For a smoke break.”
With that, Spy grabbed her woolen coat off her chair and headed for the door. Partially relieved, partially worried, Sniper followed her, casting a discreet glance to the side as they walked past Miss Pauling and everyone gathered around. The sobs had died down a while ago.
“Ye do look exhausted, lass.”
“I just- I just don't want to fail her but...”
Having spent the past hour or two in a warm, moderately insulated room, the cold air outside made her shudder and her face ache. Click. Just before closing the door, Spy pulled her camera out and took a picture of the gathering inside, using the wood creaking to mask the noise of the shutter. For what purpose and reason, it didn't concern her too much, Sniper was too occupied with reveling in the peace and quiet of the freezing evening, taking a few steps away from the building and burying her calves in the snow. The door closed fully, turning the dozen or so voices inside into no more than a soft murmur. Her breath was swept away by the wind as a trail of white vapor. While she was off reconnecting with nature or something akin to that, Spy joined her in the snow and glared down at the tip of the cigarette in her mouth, struggling to keep the lighter's flame going for long enough in the unfavorable weather. But of course it worked as she raised her hands to shield the flame, leaving her with hands hovering by the other's head like an idiot.
Spy raised her eyebrow and took the cigarette out of her mouth. “Ma chérie, are you planning to strangle or hold me?”
[My dear.]
“Both at some point, I guess.” Finally doing something normal, yet no less awkward, with her hands, she placed them on the other's shoulders. “...I'll be honest, think my brain's actively fryin'. If I don't get a chance to lay down somewhere quiet soon I'll just collapse roight here on the spot I think.”
“I'd gladly collapse with you. Perhaps at my place, this time?”
“Mmmm... one condition.” Further shrinking the distance between them, the RED mercenary pulled the other a bit closer and whispered in her ear. “I would really, really... like that cigarette.”
Giving her a murderous side eye, Spy took the cigarette out of her mouth and placed it between the other's lips instead. Perhaps it was the slight nicotine high of the first drag, that made her so careless as to lean in again and peck the woman on the soft fabric wrapped around her jaw. The left side of Spy's face visibly twitched. She did not regret it because it wasn't something she wouldn't want to do; only because it would definitely lead to more talking, and the only thing she wanted to do right now was lay in silence, preferably with the BLU mercenary next to her, but nevertheless silent. Now that the immediate danger was gone, the exhaustion was weighing down on her shoulders like iron.
“You only ever kiss me when nicotine is at stake.”
“Coincidence.”
“Is it now?” Finally getting them a bit closer to the promised land – a bed – Spy grabbed her hand and set out in the direction of the enemy base. “Do you mean it then?”
Sniper readjusted her hand and intertwined their fingers again. “Uhh yea, I do, I just- look, I'm not good at this stuff even on a good day, and–”
Boom, headshot. A snowball splattered against the back of the masked mercenary's head, making her stumble a bit in surprise. Sniper turned her head fast enough to make something make a popping noise in her neck. Illuminated only by the light escaping through the gap between the door and the wall of the building they had just left, the BLU Sniper was making barely visible scissoring innuendos with her hands.
“Smoke break my ass! I was right all along Spy!”
Not bothering to respond, Spy just kept on walking and dragging the other woman along, dusting the snow off her mask with her free hand. “On a scale of one to ten, how upset would you be if I murdered that imbécile?”
“Nine point five, they're a good friend but I see where you're comin' from.”
“I will consider it.”
Despite the death threats and a damp mask, the BLU mercenary's mouth curved into a faint smile. A rare sight. She wore one herself as well, however it didn't feel appropriate, much like grinning because you thought of something amusing during a funeral you didn't truly care for. In a way it was their own funeral. The casket was empty.
Better than a cup of espresso, the grating noise of the Resupply room's door was like a shot of pure adrenaline, although for just a few seconds. The cigarette left a small burn mark on the wall outside before falling to the ground. The room was devoid of life, save for humming of machinery, no one putting their gear back on, no one laying on the floor fresh out of Respawn, no one throwing up in the corner. Identical to their own, although with blue accents instead of red. One of the fluorescent bulbs flickered. The gray hallways were similarly silent. Only the sound of their shoes on the smooth floor echoed off the walls as they walked without saying a word. They were the first – and possibly the only ones – to leave, making them the only souls in the whole concrete eyesore of a building. The outside world might as well not exist at the moment. If not for the hand holding hers, she might've had just walked right past the room and keep going infinitely with no particular goal, eyes open but not comprehending her surroundings at all. Sniper blinked a few times while watching the other mercenary unlock not one, not two, not even three but four locks on the door before letting them both inside.
Not that she had thought of it before, but if she had spared five seconds to make up some expectations, the BLU mercenary's room was exactly what one could expect. A thick carpet with elaborate patterns covering up almost the entire floor, elegant dark wooden furniture that served as the decoration in absence of things laying around, no flowers, not even dead ones, the long curtains pulled to cover the windows, barely letting any natural light inside, everything so clean and spotless it could easily pass for an uninhabited hotel room. Even the covers on the bed in the corner were pulled tight, not one ripple on the satin surface, like one from a store display. Save for the ashtray on the coffee table. That thing got plenty traffic for sure.
“Ya know, a vampire coffin to sleep in wouldn't even look out of place here.”
The woman did not laugh, but Sniper did hear her sharply exhale through her nose. “I'm going to the bathroom, you have about half a minute to poke around. Starting now.”
The first five seconds were wasted on staring dumbfounded at Spy as she disappeared off to her private bathroom. Then another five on standing perfectly still by the door, looking around the whole room and deciding what to look at. Another three to walk past the spotless fireplace. The room was just slightly below her comfortable temperature. Does she ever wear normal clothes or is it just a suit all day every day? Sniper made a beeline for the closet and opened all the doors one by one. Half of it was suits, dress shirts, everything formal, an excessive amount of belts which all looked the same to her, but there were regular clothes too, although barely. Either Spy took extraordinary care of everything or those sweaters only saw the light of day once every blue moon. Or never. Socks in every color possible, plain or in diamonds pattern, even though only a sliver of her ankles ever showed beneath the well tailored pants.
The last two or three seconds, which was a rough estimate as she had not been counting, were spent on throwing herself on top of the bed and laying on her side. The soft mattress and layers of duvet, covers and whatever else was under there sank under her weight. The bathroom door opened again. The RED mercenary faked a loud snoring noise.
“You could've at least taken your shoes off.”
“Shit, I forgot, sorry.”
Has rising from a soft bed and wrestling her boots off her feet always been this exhausting? She tossed them off the bed and let her body fall back down completely limp. The bed dipped further as Spy laid down next to her. The mask, the gloves, and naturally the shoes were all off, though the woman's features were still partially obscured by the dark. Sniper turned her head to look at her face anyways. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, or lack thereof, or eyelashes partially covering her half-lidded eyes, but how much the mercenary's pupils were dilated made it seem like it wasn't just wine she was indulging in earlier tonight.
“...ya look at me like ya want to eat me.” Even though she had promised herself not to move until she no longer felt like she had been run over, Sniper reached out to brush a strand of hair which had fallen into the now unmasked mercenary's face.
“If I promise not to murder you, would you like to stay the night?”
“Are you asking me to stay?”
Spy grinned after a moment of silence, probably the widest her mouth had ever opened in as long as they had known each other. “You're dodging the question.”
“Ya are also dodgin' it.”
“I would like you to stay.”
“Then I'm stayin'.”