Chapter Text
Sniper pushed himself upright with a quiet groan, still caught somewhere between sleep and the dull ache running along his back.
Hours spent perched on top of a crate in the middle of a battlefield—hunched over, perfectly still, one eye glued to his rifle scope—always came back to collect. Every part of his body paid the price. Especially his back. Every muscle felt stiff.
He climbed down from the bunk with lazy, unhurried movements, dragging his feet as he made his way downstairs. The moment his feet hit the floor, he stretched every way he could think of, twisting his torso and rolling his shoulders like an old ragdoll someone had just pulled out of storage. Every tiny pop from his joints earned a grimace of relief.
Don't get the wrong idea.
Sniper loved his job. He'd take sitting in the same spot for hours, waiting for the perfect clean headshot, over charging headfirst into the middle of a firefight and getting himself killed within seconds any day. That was what being a sniper was all about.
Patience.
And Sniper had patience in spades.
Enough to wait for the perfect shot, enough to sit through entire days of silence, enough to stay perfectly still beneath a blazing sun or in freezing cold.
Most importantly...
Enough to deal with Scout.
Living with an entire pack of lunatics was exhausting—mostly tolerable, somehow—but Scout required a level of patience that bordered on supernatural.
Putting up with his ridiculous questions at every hour of the day, his endless energy, his idiotic ideas that somehow became mandatory "adventures," and that infuriating habit of barging straight into Sniper's personal space as though the concept simply didn't exist... That should've been enough to drive anyone insane.
But it wasn't.
The truth was...
He liked it far too much.
He liked hearing Scout's voice filling the silence of the room.
He liked it when Scout sat just a little too close, when he spoke before thinking, when he grinned like an idiot after doing something unbelievably stupid. Even his worst habits had somehow become... strangely endearing.
And that was the real problem.
Because putting up with all of that was easy compared to the effort it took every single day not to grab him and kiss the bloody air out of his lungs. Not to bury his hands in his clothes.
Not to hold him close.
Not to never let him go.
To make him yours.
Because Sniper was completely, hopelessly, utterly in love with his best friend.
Scout was noise. Constant, unbearable, living noise and yet...
Sniper couldn't stand the silence whenever he wasn't around, he loved him in all the little things no one else seemed to notice.
The way his voice echoed through the base, even at six in the morning.
The way he'd lean forward whenever he got excited telling a story, waving his hands around too fast, stumbling over his own words.
Those slightly crooked teeth peeking through that smug grin of his, making him look younger than he really was.
Ridiculously adorable.
His lean, wiry body—built from sprinting across battlefields day after day—made Sniper look away far more often than he'd ever admit.
And his eyes...
Christ.
Those blue eyes.
Sometimes, after a mission, once everyone else had gone to sleep, Scout would climb onto the roof of the trailer just to ramble about absolute nonsense while staring up at the stars.
The moon would catch in his eyes.
And Sniper would feel something inside his chest crack open.
Something soft... Something dangerous.
Scout was everything he wasn't; impulsive where Sniper hesitated. Loud where Sniper stayed quiet.
A raging fire where Sniper had spent years feeling like dry dust and old gunpowder.
Maybe that was why it hurt so much.
After years of blood, contracts, and corpses, Scout still carried something impossibly alive inside him. Something that made Sniper want to stay one more day. Talk to him a little longer.
Hear him laugh just one more time.
Scout reminded him that he was still human.
And that... That was exactly the problem.
Because Sniper loved him so much it was starting to make him sick.
Saying it out loud...
That would ruin everything.
Sniper began getting dressed for the day, grabbed a towel, and headed for the bathroom. Still thinking about him.
Falling for your coworker was already wildly unprofessional. The fact that they were both mercenaries somehow made it even more ridiculous.
What kind of assassin fell in love? What kind of assassin let himself feel something real?
The kind of feelings that made your chest feel impossibly light and unbearably heavy all at once.
Sniper had always thought that sort of thing was bloody stupid.
And yet... It felt far too good.
Being in love with Scout was a wonderful kind of stupidity. He loved everything about him; that cocky smile, the way he talked without ever seeming to stop for air, the way he moved, as though standing still caused him physical pain. Even the things that should've driven him up the wall. Especially those.
Apparently, Sniper was better at staying hidden than he'd given himself credit for. No one had noticed how he felt about the Scout. At least...That's what he wanted to believe. They'd worked together for four years. Four long years filled with missions, gunfire, explosions, pointless arguments, and conversations that stretched well past midnight. Somewhere along the way...They'd become best friends. One of the team's most effective duos. Partners, coworkers, like peanut butter and jelly, best friends, friends with benefits...
Lovers?
No.
Definitely not.
They might've kissed a few times. Only when they were absolutely plastered, of course. And besides... It was for the sake of the friendship. Nothing more than a quick peck.
Sniper was fairly certain best friends did that sort of thing all the time.
Hell, they trusted each other enough that most nights they ended up falling asleep together in the tiny bed inside the trailer.
Nothing strange about that.
Nothing that could possibly encourage one party's hopeless, all-consuming crush. If anything... It only made things worse.
The worst part was... Sniper didn't even care.
Scout was like a drug. An especially dangerous one. Every smile made him want to stay a little longer, every laugh made him want to hear another, every time Scout said his name, something warm tightened around his chest.
It was pathetic.
Bloody pathetic.
And he wouldn't change a single thing.
For most of his life, Sniper had never cared much for other people's company. He liked being alone, it was simple. Quiet, predictable. Even as a teenager, he'd rather spend time by himself, doing things at his own pace. That was just who he was.
Then he became a mercenary and discovered that almost everyone he worked with was completely bloody insane. Himself included.
Because sane people didn't picture spending the rest of their lives with their best friend.
And they certainly didn't wonder what that friend's laugh would sound like inside a house that didn't even exist yet.
Sniper squeezed his eyes shut.
Christ.
This was bad.
Really bloody bad.
He was so hopelessly in love. He felt like a bloody teenager. But those feelings had to stay buried, locked away, hidden somewhere in the deepest corner of his mind.
He knew how much their friendship meant to Scout. He couldn't risk destroying something that precious just because he wanted more. That would've been selfish.
Cruel.
And if Scout rejected him...
Well.
He didn't even want to think about it.
He wasn't sure he could go back. Wasn't sure he could become the man he'd been before; the quiet Sniper, the reserved one, the distant one, the boring bastard who kept everyone at arm's length. That man had almost disappeared by now and Scout was largely to blame for that.
As long as Scout stayed by his side... Everything would be alright.
That was enough.
It had to be.
...
After taking care of a few chores and brewing himself a mug of coffee, Sniper stepped out of his trailer.
Scout had been insisting for a long time that he start eating breakfast with the rest of the team. According to him, surviving on coffee alone was a terrible idea.
Sniper had a feeling that wasn't the real reason. If he had to guess, Scout just liked having him around. Truth be told... Sniper wasn't about to complain.
The moment he stepped into the mess hall, he froze.
Every single mercenary was already there. That alone was strange enough to make him pause. Normally, everyone wandered in whenever they felt like it. Getting all nine of them in the same room at the same time was practically a miracle.
Still puzzled, he headed toward the only empty chair.
He never made it that far.
"SNIPES!" The voice hit him before anything else.
Sniper actually jumped—a fact he'd sooner die than admit.
He turned around to find Scout grinning at him from across the table, and just like that, those damned butterflies were wide awake again.
"'Morning, Roo," Sniper said, unable to stop the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he took the seat beside him. "How's it goin'?"
Scout opened his mouth to answer, but Medic beat him to it.
"Guten Tag, Herr Sniper," he said pleasantly. "I'm sure you're wondering why everyone is gathered here this morning."
That was enough to make Sniper tense.
Had something happened? A mission? An emergency? Some new disaster?
A hand brushed lightly against his. The touch was so brief it could've been accidental. Scout looked at him with an easy little grin.
"Relax, would ya? It ain't bad."
As always... He somehow knew exactly what was going through Sniper's head.
"I believe I may have started on the wrong foot," Medic chuckled, that unsettlingly cheerful tone never quite leaving his voice. "What we mean is... we have news."
Scout practically bounced in his seat. Then, unable to contain himself for another second, he blurted out,
"We're goin' on a road trip!"
The mess hall erupted into chatter.
"A road trip?" Sniper repeated. "What are we, back in school? A class excursion?"
"AN ALL-AMERICAN ROAD TRIP, MAGGOT!" Soldier bellowed proudly, his voice echoing through the entire room.
"Five days," Scout added with a grin so wide it looked like his face might split in half. "The whole team's goin'. We're camping at Olympic National Park."
Sniper blinked. ¿Five days camping with the entire team?
Engineer tipped his hat back with a chuckle. "Figured we could all use a break from the killing every now and then, son. We got the company's approval. Technically it's still considered a work-related activity... but it'll be a hell of a lot more relaxing."
Nobody paid much attention to Spy's immediate complaints. If he was being forced to go, he declared, then he refused to sleep in a tent like some common savage and would instead be booking himself a five-star cabin. That earned him a chorus of groans.
"Mate," Sniper said, shaking his head over the rim of his coffee mug, "kinda defeats the whole point of camping if you're hidin' in a luxury cabin, doesn't it? That's just drinkin' expensive wine in the woods."
The briefing dragged on for another several minutes. Routes, departure times, transportation, tents, food, emergency supplies... Eventually they settled on travel groups: four pairs and one trio.
Sniper with Scout.
Engineer, Spy, and Pyro.
Heavy with Medic.
Soldier with Demoman. (He was not allowed to be drunk for this)
The moment the assignments sank in, something warm spread through Sniper's chest before he could stop it.
Five days.
Five whole days with Scout.
Maybe the universe wasn't out to get him after all.
Once the impromptu meeting wrapped up, everyone gradually filtered out of the mess hall. Soldier was already loudly discussing survival tactics with anyone unfortunate enough to be within earshot, Spy continued muttering about the complete lack of civilization, and Engineer patiently tried to explain—for what was probably the fifth time—that no, there would not be room for a king-sized mattress.
Little by little, the room emptied. Until only the two of them remained.
Scout still wore a grin that looked like he'd just won the lottery.
"You excited?" Sniper asked, taking another sip of his coffee.
"Excited?" Scout barked out a laugh. "Dude, I'm freakin' pumped. I can't wait to get the hell outta this godforsaken desert."
The corner of Sniper's mouth lifted. That was... ridiculously endearing. Then again, everything Scout did somehow was.
How had he managed to fall this hard for one man?
"Yeah," Sniper admitted. "Could use a break myself. Well... sort of." He let out a quiet chuckle. "Honestly, I'm lookin' forward to doin' what I used to before I ended up here. Before all this mercenary business."
Scout tilted his head.
"Campin'. Huntin'."
Sniper's smile softened, his gaze drifting somewhere beyond the walls of the mess hall.
"Reckon it's gonna hit me with one hell of a wave of nostalgia."
They spent the next while throwing ideas back and forth, talking about hiking trails, fishing, campfires, wildlife, and all the things they wanted to do once they reached the camping.
Eventually, Scout leaned back in his chair. Then a grin slowly spread across his face.
"Y'know what's gonna be the best part?"
Sniper raised an eyebrow.
Scout rested both elbows on the table and leaned in until they were only a short distance apart.
"We're gonna be together the whole trip."
Sniper's heart lurched so violently it almost hurt. Scout had absolutely no idea what those words did to him.
"I mean, yeah, we're together all the time already," Scout went on with a shrug, "but this'll be different, y'know? Just us, the open road, and a whole lotta trees."
His grin widened.
"It's gonna be freakin' awesome."
For one brief moment... Sniper forgot how to breathe.
"Yeah," he answered quietly. His eyes never left Scout's.
"Yeah..."
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"It's gonna be amazing."
And for once... He wasn't talking about the park.
...
Long before the sun had even considered rising, an insistent knocking rattled against the door of Sniper's trailer.
He cracked one eye open, totally exhausted.
"...What the hell?"
Still half-asleep, he stared blankly at the ceiling for several long seconds before it finally clicked.
The trip.
Right.
Today was the trip.
And judging by the relentless pounding on his door, the culprit was almost certainly Scout, just as he'd promised the night before.
Sniper let out a tired groan as he pushed himself upright, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His alarm clock read 3:30 a.m.
An hour no decent human being should ever have to acknowledge. Dragging his feet across the floor, he unlocked the door and pulled it open.
Sure enough... There stood Scout. Two enormous duffel bags rested at his feet, and he wore a grin bright enough to rival the sunrise that hadn't happened yet.
He also had far more energy than any sane person should possess at three-thirty in the bloody morning.
Sniper felt his own expression soften almost instantly.
...Bloody hell.
He wasn't even fully awake yet, and somehow he already felt better.
"Mornin', Snipes!" Scout beamed as he squeezed past him into the trailer without waiting for an invitation. "Remember, if we wanna get there early, we gotta hit the road by five. Go shower, get dressed—I got breakfast covered."
"Roo..." Sniper muttered, his voice rough with sleep, lower than usual in a way that almost sounded like gravel. He could've sworn he saw Scout shiver for half a second.
"We're gonna be stuck in the truck for over thirty hours." He scrubbed a hand down his face with another yawn. "Don't ya think this is just a little excessive? I completely forgot today was the trip."
"Nope."
"It's three-thirty, mate."
"Exactly."
"That somehow ain't helpin' your argument."
Scout ignored him with spectacular confidence.
He dropped both duffel bags beside the tiny table in what Sniper generously referred to as a dining area before wandering around the trailer like he owned the place.
To be fair, he practically did. He spent enough time there already. Then Scout stopped in his tracks.
"...Man."
Sniper looked up.
"You haven't even packed?"
Sniper simply shook his head.
Scout clutched a hand dramatically to his chest.
"Snipes."
A disappointed sigh.
"I'm hurt."
"I literally just woke up."
"Exactly! What would you do without me?"
"Probably get a bit more sleep."
"...Rude."
That earned a genuine laugh out of Sniper.
Scout planted his hands on his hips, wearing the most smug expression imaginable.
"Good thing you've got this incredibly handsome, amazingly generous best friend around to save your ass."
Sniper smiled.
"I honestly don't know what I'd do without ya, Roo."
And for once, he meant every word.
Without really thinking about it, he reached over and gently squished Scout's freckled cheeks between one hand.
Scout froze for exactly one second. A faint blush crept across his face.
Probably because of the pressure? Yeah. That had to be it. Moments like this weren't unusual. If anything, they happened all the time.
Still... They never felt ordinary. Not to Sniper.
Deciding it was in his own best interest to stop thinking before the overwhelming urge to kiss him returned, he cleared his throat instead.
"How the hell d'you have this much energy?"
Scout answered by triumphantly pulling a can of Bonk! Atomic Punch from his jacket pocket, holding it up like a priceless trophy. Complete with a wink, of course.
"...Right."
Sniper nodded solemnly.
"I'm just gonna pretend that's coffee."
Scout gasped dramatically.
"Dude, this stuff's way better than that nasty sludge you drink."
"Objectively false."
"Says you."
"That's not an opinion."
"It totally is."
"It's a crime."
"Opinion."
"Crime."
Scout pointed at him with a victorious grin.
"Opinion."
Chuckling to himself, Sniper could only shake his head before grabbing a towel and making his way toward the bathroom.
While the hot water slowly chased the last traces of sleep from his body, Sniper could hear Scout moving around the trailer outside.
Drawers opening, cupboards slamming shut, the occasional thud followed by an indignant, "Ow." Talking to himself. As usual.
A few months ago, Sniper had finally traded in his old trailer for a newer model. The previous one had barely been holding together, and Scout had spent weeks—months, really—nagging him to replace it.
To be fair... He'd had a point. The list of problems had been impressive; some mornings the tap water came out brown, the bathroom only worked when it felt like it, one of the doors had quite literally fallen off its hinges for no apparent reason. And there had been more than one occasion where the bed had threatened to collapse—especially whenever two people tried sleeping on it.
Scout never let him forget that particular detail.
Still, for all its faults, the old trailer had always been spotless. Eventually, even Sniper had to admit it was time for an upgrade.
The new place was bigger, sturdier, and actually comfortable to live in. It had enough storage space, decent plumbing, proper heating...
Even a pull-up bar bolted to the ceiling. Entirely unnecessary. Though it did make stretching out his back after long missions a hell of a lot easier.
Scout had been the one to help him choose it. Or rather... Scout had enthusiastically rejected every other trailer on the lot while talking almost nonstop.
Sniper still remembered spending the entire afternoon wandering from dealership to dealership with him. Strangely enough... It had been one of the best days he'd had all year.
"Hey!" Scout called from somewhere outside the bathroom.
"What?"
"How many shirts are ya bringin'?"
"...Enough."
"That ain't a number."
"...Five."
"Sweet."
A brief silence followed.
"...Pants?"
"Scout."
"What?"
"I'm not a child."
"Yeah, but if I leave you alone, you're gonna pack three shirts, one mug, and a knife."
Sniper snorted.
"That's not true. Back when I used to go huntin', I always packed exactly what I needed."
"Oh yeah?"
"I'm an experienced outdoorsman."
"Sniper."
"What?"
"I've literally seen you survive three days on nothing but jerky and coffee."
"...It was a week."
Scout gasped in theatrical horror.
"THAT'S WORSE, YA IDIOT!"
Sniper laughed so hard he nearly had to brace himself against the shower wall.
By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, towel slung over one shoulder as he finished drying his hair, Scout was sitting cross-legged on the bed, studying a handwritten list with the concentration of someone planning military operations.
Sniper raised an eyebrow.
"...What's that?"
"My list."
"...Your list?"
"Of all the stuff you're probably gonna forget."
Sniper blinked.
"You made a packing list... for me?"
"Yep."
"...That's mildly concerning."
Scout looked up proudly.
"It'd be more concerning if you didn't need one."
"...Fair point."
Sniper wandered closer.
The page was covered with little sketches and hastily scribbled words. Like a flashlight, clothes, first-aid kit, sunscreen, bug spray, binoculars, toothbrush. Most of it had been drawn rather than written. Scout had never been particularly fond of writing.
Sniper stared at the paper for another second before looking back at him.
"...You've been working on this for days, haven't ya?"
Scout scratched the back of his neck.
"...Maybe."
A smile escaped before Sniper could stop it.
"Roo..."
"What?"
"You're adorable."
Scout froze.
"...What?"
"...Nothin'."
"No, you definitely said somethin'."
"Nah."
"What'd you say?"
"Finish packin'."
By the time Sniper realized what had just come out of his mouth, the heat rushing to his face could probably rival the shower he'd just stepped out of.
Scout narrowed his eyes. Then slowly pointed a finger at him.
"I'm gonna figure out what you said."
Sniper grabbed another shirt and stuffed it into his duffel bag, deliberately avoiding eye contact.
"Good luck with that."
True to Scout's schedule, they were completely packed and ready to leave by five in the morning.
Miraculously...
The breakfast Scout had thrown together had actually been edible. Sniper made a mental note not to tell him that. Some things were better left unsaid.
Outside, the sky was still dark as they loaded the last of their bags into the truck. The air was cool. Quiet.
Everything felt peaceful.
Sniper glanced toward the passenger seat.
Scout was absentmindedly flicking a flashlight on and off out of sheer boredom, watching the beam dance across the dashboard.
Sniper found himself watching him instead.
The soft glow caught the freckles scattered across Scout's cheeks.
The tiny crease between his eyebrows whenever he focused on something completely insignificant.
The faint smile that always seemed to find its way back onto his face.
...Christ.
He was done for.
Completely.
Hopelessly.
Done for.
"What?"
Scout hadn't even looked up.
Sniper nearly gave himself whiplash jerking his gaze away.
"...Nothin'."
"Mhm."
"Nothin'."
"You were starin'."
"I wasn't."
"Sniper."
"Scout."
"Sniper."
"Scout."
Finally, Scout looked over.
His eyes sparkled with quiet amusement.
The corners of his mouth curled into a smile so effortless it almost looked unconscious.
And somehow... That tiny smile was enough to make Sniper's heart stumble all over again.
Once everything was finally ready, Sniper radioed the rest of the team to let them know they were hitting the road and would meet up with everyone else at the first stop along the way.
A chorus of acknowledgements crackled back through the speaker. Along with a few jokes.
And one extremely loud reminder from Scout that they were already leaving.
Sniper couldn't help smiling. The engine rumbled to life.
And the journey... Had only just begun.