Work Text:
the scout was partial to talking your ear off, before and after battle.
beforehand it was lacing up boots and running shoes, buckling masks and taping knuckles, all with a stream of chatter.
afterwards, he trailed behind you like a comet as you made your way through the base - towards the kitchen, and then the communal rec room. there the two of you would sit, sharing food and watching television, his commentary ebbing and flowing.
you’d fight over the dial sometimes, smacking each other noncommittally. occasionally someone would make a comment on your arrangement, regarding it as cute or juvenile, which he markedly disliked. his face and the tips of his ears would burn and he’d scowl, spitting out a biting remark that would oftentimes be directed at you as well as the perpetrator. you didn't mind.
nobody could tell, but it always made you smile when this happened, having occurred a few times - sideways grin, a hand to your face, the movement reminiscent of a nervous tic rendered useless with the advent of your mask. sometimes you laughed, just a little, giddy with the idea that his defensiveness was from a place of sincerity.
usually your time together was cut short. he would find something else to fixate on, or you would wander off, or both. on one occasion, wherein you were followed back to your room, he paused at the door, before nervously (this also struck you as funny - he didn’t seem to have a lot of shame,) asking if you’d be okay with him coming in.
this became a pattern. the answer was usually yes.
you’d take off your suit, sweating and world-weary, but leave on your mask - the encroachment on your personal space, while not unwelcome, left you feeling raw and exposed, needing a buffer. it would be too personal, otherwise.
he started to bring you drinks, knowing you’d need to lift the mask up and over your mouth. you knew it was intentional, and you knew he watched you intently.
what was it, a Tuesday? you were sitting on the floor, backs against your bed. his arm kept bumping yours, first his extended elbow and then his shoulder, having slowly closed the negative space. the lower half of your face was exposed, and he leaned forward as he spoke, sentences punctuated with nervous laughter, breath tickling your ear.
all at once, he breached the gap fully, pressing a small kiss to your jaw - before startling backwards, as if surprised at his own action.
you only looked at him and smiled, rested your fingers on the spot he’d kissed. you felt like your heart would beat out of your chest, and he looked afraid. you laughed.
he smiled back, almost pleadingly, and straightened his posture. “sorry, i don’t - i don’t know why i did that.”
you shrugged. “s’okay.”
“can I - is it alright if I did it again?”
you nodded, and he leaned back in, this one landing just at the corner of your mouth.
feeling brave, you moved your head, touching your lips to his. the two of you kept at this for a while, shifting only slightly, hearts hammering. his mouth was sticky and sweet, and you could only assume that yours was too.
eventually he stood, stammering, said he had other stuff to do and should leave.
“and hey,” he said, suddenly serious, pointing a finger - “this doesn’t mean anything, so, don’t get the wrong idea. you’re my pal, but i don’t - ugh. just don’t tell anyone.”
he didn't need to tell you twice.