Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandom:
Relationships:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2025-06-23
Completed:
2025-06-23
Words:
2,146
Chapters:
2/2
Comments:
6
Kudos:
17
Bookmarks:
1
Hits:
162

A mistake, or a boon?

Summary:

A Queer-Platonic!SniperXParental!Reader oneshot.

Or:

It only fully hit Mick Mundy just how close he's grown to you when he woke up next to you after falling asleep while reading with you last night- this has never happened before, but is it so bad that he wouldn't mind it happening again..?

Or:

Sniper has issues, and even though you can't fix everything, he feels better than he did before you (politely) barged into his life.

Notes:

I had a good day today, and made this thing in a few hours.

Who you are in this is completely left up to interpretation- you could be Scout, Spy, Engie, Medic, a different merc, an OC, or even just yourself!!

 

I might come back and edit it tomorrow, I hope that you all liked it. Remember, all comments are super appreciated!

The summary-excerpt is slightly different from the part in the fic because I didn't want to accidentally bait anybody into thinking that they did the naughty adult fun times.

 

Sniper, after reader wakes up: I think I like you.

Reader: Yeah, no shit.

Chapter 1: Idk what to put here

Chapter Text

 

If somebody had ever heard of the Sniper, there were three things that they'd know about them- if they were still alive, that is.

One, he's polite. Two, he's efficient. And last but not least, he has a plan to kill everybody he meets.

 

But right now, as the hired killer leans against the wall of his RV and watches you sleep- the dawn peeks in through the crack between his curtains, and a lukewarm mug of coffee labeled '#1 SNIPER' is nestled in his hands- he realizes that last night, (maybe far before that, back when he first met you,) he betrayed the most important of those things.

And the problem doesn't lie in the difficulty- stars, it'd be too easy to off you, in fact.

Fortunately and ultimately, the fact of the matter is that you trust him. 

Which means that the mercenary could effortlessly slip poison into your drink or supper and have you shrug it off as him trying a new recipe, go on a fun camping trip with you into the woods only to leave you six feet under without your head, or really anything else. His hesitance lies in the act itself.

The problem lies in the fact that he thinks that he likes you too much. If he killed you, who else would he confide in? Who else would he cook with? Who else would he hold at night? Who else could he joke and drink Mezzo-mix and read with? 

Unfortunately and ultimately, the fact of the matter is that he trusts you.

 


And as you innocently stir in the bed with a groan- he still can't remember at what point you and him stopped reading and started dozing off, all he knows that he read with you in his bed after you both cooked dinner, and woke up uncomfortably rolled on top of said book ten minutes ago- he doesn't know what to think anymore.

The thing is, the Aussie isn't good at making friends. He never has been, he'd get mocked by his peers even as a bright-eyed kid. He's introverted as a result, barely knowing any of his coworkers. After all, why should he try to make friends when every time he's tried in the past, he failed? But somehow, apparently his defenses aren't as impenetrable as he had thought they were, because you somehow slipped through the cracks.

When you had first arrived in Austin, Nevada and joined the team along with everyone else, your first impression consisted of you just.. being kind to everybody in general. Making the team their respective favorite drinks, offering almost parental advice, helping to take care of the members that were more prone to falling ill, and so many other small things.

Time after time, when you were handing him the strongest coffee you would make, or coaxing him into drinking some soup when he had a fever, or bringing him a book that he'd offhandedly mention while trying to escape conversations, he had to remind himself over and over that you do these types of things for everybody.

And when you started showing up to the marksman's van to check on him after particularly rough battles, it slowly changed from being a semi-monthly occurrence to being twice a month (you had cited him not taking care of himself enough as a the reason for your visits, and of course the method of simply texting him wasn't personal enough for your tastes), and before he knew it, that had steadily shifted to being weekly, then bi-weekly, and finally nearly every day.

The visits went from two-minute appointments at the door of his camper van to make sure that he didn't have any untreated wounds, to five minute long sessions sitting with him in his humble abode (because it can get damn cold in the evenings, and you don't want to get sick, right?). 

Which became twenty minute check-ins where you both spoke about the week that you had (and he sent you off with some of the food he was cooking at the time, because he was making it for his own supper, and he accidentally made more than he meant to, and you hadn't eaten yet anyway, so it was really no trouble). 

So of course, it turned in to hour-long meetings (since he made dinner, you shouldn't just take it away in a tupperware to reheat it, you should enjoy it properly when it's hot and fresh, you need to keep your energy up if you're going to be running around, don't you? And while you're at it, you may as well have a cuppa coffee or can of Mezzo with him, he has some on hand anyway.)

And eventually, it turned into two and three hour-long stretches that usually consisted of you and him preparing a slow-cook dinner, taking hikes in the forest while it's getting ready (because there's no reason not to, and there's a quiet little spot he supposes he can show you, because who doesn't want to learn more about the animals and plants in the wild?) and then perusing through his books upon returning to the van (why not? If you're going to stay for a little while, and dinner isn't done yet, he'd be a shit host if he just had you sit on his old couch, bored as all hell. And he has gotten a few new books lately, so it's really no trouble if you and him read for a bit.)

Which finally became you staying overnight. (It's late, so things could be dangerous if you went outside unarmed after dark, and you probably don't want to go back anyway in this weather, it's cold and starting to rain, and you don't have a coat-)

It only fully hit Mick Mundy just how close he's grown to you when he woke up next to you- this has never happened before, but is it so bad that he wouldn't mind it happening again..? 

His musings are interrupted by none other than the sound of your half-awake grumblings- you seem to have slipped into a lighter sleep and noticed that he was gone.

And as he sighs and climbs back into the warm bed, pulling the covers over you both, he figures that, well..

 


Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be close to somebody.

 

Chapter 2: Copyright lololol

Summary:

Basically last chapter, but fully platonic and in the third-person

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

If somebody had ever heard of the Sniper, there were three things that they'd know about them- if they were still alive, that is.

One, he's polite. Two, he's efficient. And last but not least, he has a plan to kill everybody he meets.

But right now, as the hired killer leans against the wall of his RV and watches his coworker sleep- the dawn peeks in through the crack between his curtains, and a lukewarm mug of coffee labeled '#1 SNIPER' is nestled in his hands- he realizes that last night, he betrayed the most important of those things.

And the problem doesn't lie in the difficulty- stars, it'd be too easy to off her.

Fortunately and ultimately, the fact of the matter is that she trusts him. 

Which means that the mercenary could effortlessly slip poison into her drink or supper and have her shrug it off as him trying a new recipe, go on a fun camping trip with her into the woods only to leave the woman stranded, or really anything else. His hesitance lies in the act itself.

The problem lies in the fact that he thinks that he likes the lady too much to kill her. If he killed her, who else would he confide in? Who else would he cook with? Who else would he hold at night? Who else could he joke and drink Mezzo and read with? 

Unfortunately and ultimately, the fact of the matter is that He trusts his coworker.

 

And as she innocently stirs under the blanket with a groan- he still can't remember at what point the duo stopped reading and started dozing off, all he knows that he read with his friend on his couch after they both cooked dinner, and woke up uncomfortably rolled onto the floor ten minutes ago- he doesn't know what to think anymore.

The thing is, the Aussie isn't good at making friends. He never has been, he'd get mocked by his peers even as a bright-eyed kid. He's introverted as a result, barely knowing any of his coworkers. After all, why should he try to make friends when every time he's tried in the past, he failed? But somehow, apparently his defenses aren't as impenetrable as he had thought they were, because his damn coworker somehow slipped through the cracks.

When she had first arrived in Austin, Nevada and joined the team along with everyone else, his first impression consisted of her just.. being kind to everybody in general. Making the team their respective favorite drinks, offering almost motherly advice, helping to take care of the members that were more prone to falling ill, and so many other small things.

Time after time, when his coworker was handing him the strongest coffee she could make, or coaxing him into drinking some soup when he had a fever, or bringing him a book that he'd offhandedly mention while trying to escape conversations, he had to remind himself over and over that she does these types of things for everybody.

And when the woman started showing up to the marksman's van to check on him after particularly rough battles, it slowly changed from being a semi-monthly occurrence to being twice a month (she had cited him not taking care of himself enough as a the reason for her visits, and of Course the method of simply texting him wasn't personal enough for her tastes), and before he knew it, That had steadily shifted to being weekly, then bi-weekly, and finally nearly every day.

The visits went from two-minute appointments at the door of his camper van to make sure that he didn't have any untreated wounds, to five minute long sessions sitting with him in his humble abode (because even though it's hot during the day, it can get damn cold in the evenings, and his coworker doesn't want to get sick, right?). 

Which became twenty minute check-ins where the duo spoke about the week that they had (and he sent her off with some of the food he was cooking at the time, because he was making it for his own supper, and he accidentally made more than he meant to, and she hadn't eaten yet anyway, so it was really no trouble). 

So of course, it turned in to hour-long meetings (since he made dinner, it'd be a damn insult for his colleague to just.. take it away in a damn tupperware to reheat it, she should enjoy it properly when it's hot and fresh, she needs to keep your energy up if she's going to be running around, doesn't she? And while the young lady's at it, she may as well have a drink of coffee or Mezzo with him, he has some on hand anyway.)

And eventually, it turned into two and three hour-long stretches that usually consisted of the duo preparing a slow-cook dinner, taking hikes in the forest while it's getting ready (because there's no reason not to, and there's a quiet little spot he supposes he can show her, because who doesn't want to learn more about the animals and plants in the wild?) and then perusing through his books upon returning to the van (why not? If the woman's going to stay for a little while, and dinner isn't done yet, he'd be a shit host if he just had her just sit on his old couch, bored as all hell. And he has gotten a few new books lately, so it's really no trouble if the duo read them for a bit.)

Which finally became the woman staying overnight. (It's late, so things could be dangerous if she went outside unarmed after dark, and she probably shouldn't go back anyway in this weather, it's cold and starting to rain, and she doesn't have a coat-)

It only fully hit Mick Mundy just how close he's grown to his coworker- no, his friend- when he woke up near her. This has never happened before, but is it so bad that he wouldn't mind having a sleepover again..? 

His musings are interrupted by none other than the sound of the young lady's half-awake grumblings- she seems to have slipped into a lighter sleep and noticed that he was gone.

And as he sighs and sits onto the edge of the couch, continuing to read the book from the last page he remembers looking at, he figures that, well..


Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be close to somebody again.

 

 

 

Notes:

I'll tell y'all in the comments if it's grandma-approved or not. Gonna go do that now!!