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Someone to Someone	By : Loni Category: +S through Z > Team Fortress 2 Views: 912 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Team Fortress 2 or its characters. I simply borrowed them for the sake of writing for fun. No profit was made.

Chapter List
- 1-Someone to Someone
- 1
It had only been a few days since the incident, something the Scout would rather soon put from his mind than to have recollection of.  He sat quietly in his position on the wooden floor, knees drawn half-way to his chest, his trusty bat held between them by a pair of bandaged hands.  It wasn't like the blue-clad youngster to be so silent, but he found himself brooding despite the fact that he was usually so boisterous and full of energy.  But, damn it, he was pissed, and with decent reason!  Still, he remained still as he clung to his weapon, staring intently at the surface of the bat, tracing calloused fingers in the various dents forged by the skulls of his enemies.

The Scout may have been oddly unmoving and quiet, but his reddened face spoke no lies.  He was definitely somewhere else and thinking hard, a feat that would scare even the toughest of men.

It would not last too long.  The soft tap of a mug being placed on the nearby table was enough to stir him from his thoughts, but not nearly enough to get his full attention.  However, it was hard to ignore a gruff voice chiming breaking the otherwise silence of the room.

"Settle yourself, mate.  You're about to blow a bloomin' fuse, an' give away our position."

"Feh," the youth spat as he delivered a glare to the offending Sniper sitting a few feet away from him, giving a slight wince due to the remaining scar tissue healing under his right eye courtesy one red-clad Spy's cigarette a few days earlier.  It didn't matter, though.  The elder man was using the scope of his rifle to survey the land below the tower in which they sought refuge.  It wasn't so much being ignored that bothered the Scout, but more of the fact that he despised being stuck in one place, having to be still and quiet and merely watch as his comrades were off in the distance battling the enemy.  He should have been out there, pummeling bodies and creating a beautiful mess of corpses with his Force-a-Nature.  No one else could snag enemy intelligence like he could!

But, no, here he was, stuck and being babysat like some kind of goddamned child, given only a baseball bat to occupy his time.  As if he could be distracted so easily!  The Medic was out of his fucking gourd for telling him to recover for a few days, but the Scout would have nothing of it!  He pitched the worst of fits---manly arguments in his eyes---until his unlikely savior, the Sniper, gave in and suggested bringing him along if it would shut his mouth for even an instant.  The doctor merely threw his hands to the air in defeat and unwillingly allowed it, walking away to finish the paperwork that went with the now-finished procedure.  Or, whatever it was the kook did with his spare time.  The Scout neither knew nor cared.  He had worse issues to deal with.  This wasn't the first time the elder had come to the boy's rescue, and it angered him even more to know he owed this man two favors now.  Scouts did not become other people's lap dogs, but his mother had taught him to never carry through the day owing a debt.

Curse him for being such a momma's boy.  He expelled a slight heave of breath in spite of his devotion to his maternal unit.  Again, the Sniper annoyingly shushed him with a wave of a hand, his vision never breaking from his scope, though his mouth turned stern suddenly.  The Scout tensed up and watched the elder's finger fixate itself on the gun's trigger as he prepared to strike.  His own hands found themselves clenching his bat in anticipation.

A moment passed, one that seemed like an eternity for the boy who could not see which enemy was about to have his head splattered in the dirt.  Right as he was about to prepare to stand up, the Sniper relaxed and shook his head.

"Bloomin' bird," he murmured with a slight chuckle of amusement as a crow took flight, exiting the scope's cross-hairs.  He casually leaned back, taking in a generous amount of coffee to wet his throat, but nearly choked from the outburst that quickly followed.

"You gotta be freakin' kiddin' me, man!" the Scout hissed, his patience finally wearing thinner than is previously was, if that was remotely possible.  He came to his feet suddenly, swinging his bat around until it fell upon his right shoulder.  "I can't take this anymore!  I gotta get out there!  This sucks!"  No sooner had he spun around to leave the room, a gloved hand gripped his other shoulder.  It wasn't forceful, but it demanded his undivided attention.

"Look 'ere, ya yank.  I don't like this any more 'en you do, but we all have a job to do."

"Hey, fuck that, man.  My job is out there!"  The Scout unceremoniously shrugged the hand from his person in offense.  "I don't have time to sit around.  It may fine and dandy for you, brotha, but I got more important things ta do."

"Like what?  Passing out from an injury and dying like a bloody fool?  You forget…" the Sniper had paused in his speech to spin the youth around to face him and jab the Scout in the chest with a pointed finger.  The youth sucked in what would have been a gasp of surprise and pain, as the elder man managed to make contact with the tender flesh that was slowly closing over the remnants of a stab wound, another disgusting reminder that the Red Spy had almost bested him in a battle of life or death.  He was not about to show weakness to anyone, especially not the guy who was responsible for his life continuing beyond that moment in time.  Not the man he now owed his existence to.  Twice.

"Ah, shaddup, old man," the Scout managed to spit out in indignation, his feet rolling backwards to distance himself from the finger if only by a few inches.  It wasn't the best of retaliations, but his pride would not allow him to be so easily scolded by anyone that was not his own mother without some sort of response.  However, the boy would not have his way this time.  A rough shove to his shoulder sent the Scout to the floor, and before he could even let out a gasp as his lungs were hastily emptied by the force, the Sniper's face was hovering close---dangerously close---to his own as his head was forced to rest on the wood as the Scout attempted to put space between their noses, but to no avail.  He could not quite read the man's eyes through yellow-tinted lenses at such a close range, but any fool would know that he was definitely not happy at the moment.  He opened his mouth to protest, but the taller man's hand clamped over it.

"No, you shut the 'ell up," he seethed, his husky voice barely audible above a whisper as it leaked through clenched teeth, "I am not about to let you go out there and get yourself killed.  You think I want to see you die?  Do you?"

The Scout could not reply even if he wanted to.  He could barely breathe with the rough digits clamping into his jaw line, though he realized his own angry scowl had disappeared somewhere during the Sniper's uncharacteristic movements and had been replaced with a mixture of shock and a very strange feeling of remorse, especially as he saw the elder man's face soften as quick as he had previously snapped.  Though his eyes were concealed, the Scout could tell that those hawk-like eyes were staring into his own with purpose.

Despite the edges of his mouth wrinkling with a frown, his demeanor had changed and caused the boy an even further shock as he leaned further in and rested his forehead against the floor next to the Scout's head, causing his headset to slightly shift from his ear.  He could only blink in surprise, but could not speak even though the Sniper's fingers had released his mouth and rested on the other side of his head.  Even the simplest of vocabulary words could not form upon his tongue though they were racing in his mind, fighting for a chance to speak.

But, the smaller male was silent as he tilted his head against the Sniper's hand in an attempt to look upon the elder man's face, but all he could see were strands of dark hair and the rim of the hat now haphazardly sitting upon his nose.  The boy stiffened and raised an eyebrow.  Did he just hear a stifled sob come from the other man?  No, no, no, this can't be right.  He was not trapped on the floor beneath an older man who was doing his best to not bawl like a damn baby!  Stuff like this doesn't happen.  Not here.  Not now.  Not ever.  Not to him.

The Scout parted his lips with his tongue, moistening them and clearing away the grime left behind by dirty fingers.  He hesitated a moment, staring into the darkness of the hat covering his face, completely paralyzed beneath the larger, though equally scrawny man.  His face flushed slightly, and he became irritated at the fact that anyone, friend or enemy, could lurk into their hideaway and see this display of utter sissyness.  If so, he would gladly take another knife to the heart if that meant not becoming the laughing stock of his comrades and enemies.

The youth cringed at that thought, not daring speak it aloud.  Even if he tried, he would have been cut off as the Sniper regained some of his composure.  Though never moving from his spot, the elder spoke in sad, raspy murmurs.

"I almost didn't get to you in time."

"Huh-wha---"

"You nearly died that day, and it would've been me bloody fault for not gettin' there soon enough."  The Scout could feel the hand beside his head clench against the floor, forming a fist.  He only assumed the other hand was doing the same opposite the Sniper's head.  "It's me fuckin' fault and I should've been watchin' your back, but I let you run into that building by yourself, thinkin' you could handle it."

The Scout was now petrified at the elder's words.  Under normal circumstances, he would have spat out that he was perfectly fine by himself, but memories of a red-clad bastard kneeling over his injured body brought him into the realization that he should be dead.  And, now, the reason for his survival was slumped over him saying that it was his fault for the boy nearly getting killed in the first place?  It just didn't add up!

"No, man, it's…it's alright," he managed to stutter, trying to regain some manner of sanity in this unreal predicament, "I'm fine."  He managed a pathetic attempt at a light chuckle to clear the tension.

"Brilliant.  So, once I release you, you're going to go blinkin' endanger yourself again, right?  Act like a real tough bloke and go down in a blaze of glory, yeah?  You think that's all you're bloody worth?"

The Scout began to mumble incoherently; he was unsure of what it was he was supposed to say at this point.  Fortunately, words need not be spoken from his tongue, because he would find himself speechless once more as the Sniper finally raised his head and placed his nose before the youth's once more, somehow fixing his hat to his head properly in the process.  Something of a wry smile was painted on his lips, but a reflection of the Scout's own eyes danced on the lenses of the elder's sunglasses hid what he merely figured to be red and puffy eyes, but if there were tears before, they no longer fell now.  The boy merely tensed up to the point of breaking his own bones with the constricted muscles in his body as he stared into the questionable face of the man lingering above him.

"For all it's worth, you do mean something to this team.  To me.  So, can you try to behave and sit here while I do my part to protect you?  You're a right annoyin' kid, but I'd slice off me own arm if somethin' happened to you."

The smaller male raised an eyebrow, but his features and body followed the other man's in softening to the point of melting into the floor.  He didn't quite understand this situation, but it did not garnish unwanted feelings.  It actually felt rather nice for someone to openly admit accepting his existence outside of his own mother's embrace.  Even if it was in the form of being plastered to the floor beneath a man who could easily kill him with a toothpick if he so pleased.  The boy found himself unable to sustain a proper argument, nor did he want to.  He blinked back an annoying tear that managed to form and attempt to spill over his eyelashes.

"Y-Yeah, sure thing, man.  I got it, I got it, alright?" he chuckled nervously again with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Peachy."

To the Scout's surprise, he felt his hat being slid backwards as the elder's thumb pressed against the rim until it fell onto the floor.  Then, the boy felt warm and dry lips on his forehead in a gentle peck before the Sniper raised himself into a squatting position over the teen, holding one hand gingerly to the floor beside their bodies for leverage while thumping the youth's nose with the other.  The Scout tried to hold in his laughter, but his body gave in and he began fighting against the man hovering above him while shaking with his sniggers.

"Alright, alright, get off'a me, pal!  This ain't how you're s'posed to babysit, ya dumbass!  No need getting' all emotional and shit ova here."

The elder merely gave a smug expression and stood up, holding his hand out to lift the boy to his feet.  The Scout accepted as he scrunched his nose and sneered as only he knew how, collecting his wayward hat as he came to stand in front of the other man.  Now that this situation had been properly dealt with, they could return to the task at hand.  The Sniper took his seat, and with his rifle in his hand, proceeded to continue scoping out the war zone, which was surprisingly quiet despite the noise they had created only moments before.  There were no complaints, however.  Everything was as it should be, even if things would forever be different between the two; the Sniper once again reclaimed his position as Number 1 Sniper in his special brand of warfare and the Scout…

Well, as for the Scout…

"Hey, pops, mind if I try that?"

"Piss off."

Some things would always stay the same.
- 1
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Someone to Someone