Archive of Our Own ^beta

Contrary to popular belief, Scout is not an idiot.

Okay, maybe he is — but he’s not clueless.

For a while, Scout has noticed that his father has gotten quite close with the Medic. Ever since Spy revealed that he learned German Sign Language to help translate for Medic, the two have been attached like two soda cans in a packet (or two nuts in a sack, if you want to be crass).

He has observed that Medic’s post-battle hangout choice is more often than not Spy’s room. And when they’re not in his room, Spy often spends his time in the clinic. A few times, while getting a checkup, he has even seen Spy’s lighter or a few newspapers on the table. He swears he has even seen Medic rest his head on Spy’s shoulder whenever they sit next to each other, and Spy rarely lets anyone touch him that way.

It’s quite obvious: they have a thing for each other.

Or… so Scout thought.

The thing is, he can’t be sure if Spy is actually dating Medic. He thought that both of them liked the Engineer, but this development has made that theory messy. The two are both generally quiet individuals, so it wouldn’t be out of character for them to keep their relationship private. Besides, Scout doesn’t know what they actually do when they’re with each other — for all that he knows, they could be doing absolutely nothing.

Unless he finds out himself.

“Scout, mate,” Sniper says, setting down his freshly-cleaned kukri with concern. “Are you done staring at the wall?”

Scout blinks, suddenly conscious of his right hand aimlessly wiping the same spot on his bat for the past however-many minutes. He lifts the rag and finds a particularly shiny radius under it. Whoops.

“What’s wrong, son?” Engineer asks.

“Nothin’!” Scout responds cheerfully, flipping the bat in his hands and catching it (to show that he is very clearly here and present in the conversation). “Just thinkin’ of all the heads I bashed in today.”

“…If you say so,” Engineer replies, seemingly squinting under his goggles.

Scout flashes a grin at Engineer before setting his bat down. As if on cue, Spy and Medic pass his peripheral view, walking out of the battlements room together. He waits until the two disappear past the doorframe to stand up and follow after them (unsuspectingly and nonchalantly, of course).

“Oi, you haven’t put away your weapons yet!” Demo calls out.

Dang it.

“Could you do me a favor and put ‘em away for me?” Scout says with a wink, clasping his hands together.

“Hell no!” Demo exclaims. “Get your ass back here!”

“I’ll do it,” Sniper says, picking up Scout’s pistol.

“Wait, no—” Demo grabs Scout’s bat before Sniper can take it.

Scout snorts as he leaves. He feels a little bad that Sniper is picking up after him, but it’s the only way Demo will listen to his requests.

As he exits the room, he catches a glimpse of Medic’s light blue coat fluttering past the corner of a hallway. Scout quietly stalks down the hall, peeking his head around the wall to find Medic approaching Spy’s door.

The doctor doesn’t knock — he simply pulls the handle and walks in. That’s nuts! Everyone knows to knock on Spy’s door! Even Scout has to knock on his door!

“Guess you’re real close to him, huh, Doc?” Scout mutters quietly.

Scout tiptoes, approaching the door with utmost wariness. Leaning in, he presses his ear against the door, listening for any hint as to what could be happening inside the room.

A few seconds pass.

Absolutely nothing.

Either whatever they’re doing is incredibly quiet, or they’re not doing anything at all. Scout finds these two options to be equally viable. But he has to know! Maybe he’ll get better chances if he peeks from the window…

“Scout?” Spy says.

Scout whips around to be flashbanged by the sight of his father standing behind him.

“Gah!” he shrieks, jumping up. “Pa! What are you doin’ here?”

“This… is my room,” Spy responds, raising an eyebrow.

“Right.” Scout sucks in a breath. “Yeah.”

“Did you need something?” Spy asks.

“Um.” Quick! Think of something! “I was just wondering… have you, uh, seen my comics? They’re not in my room.”

“Have you checked the drawer next to your bed?” Spy suggests. “You might have put them there during cleaning duty.”

“Oh, shit!” Scout smacks his head. Truthfully, he has been missing his comics for the past few days. “That’s a good idea. I’ll check! Thanks!”

To keep up appearances, Scout scampers off in the direction of his room. He sneakily glances back from the corner of his eye to see Spy purse his lips in mild confusion before shrugging it off and entering his own room.

Okay, that plan was a bust. Thankfully, Spy didn’t seem that suspicious of him. Or maybe he was and was just really good at lying. Scout can never tell. If Spy is onto him, he’ll have to be less — what was the word? Conscience? No, conscious? Conspicuous! Yeah, that.

Now it’s time for a new plan. He knows, for sure, that those two will come to dinner. That’ll leave the room empty for him to inspect. All he has to do is finish dinner really fast and pretend to be going somewhere else and then sneak in! The plan is basically flawless!

So, when Heavy calls everyone over for dinner, Scout is the first to be seated at the table. “Seated” is a big of a generous overstatement, really. After grabbing his bowl, he scarfs the whole thing down while hunched over the table like a starving dog.

By now, his other teammates have also begun to trickle into the dining room. Among them are Spy and Medic — perfect.

“Private!” Soldier barks. “Why the rush?”

Scout’s attempt to answer with his mouth full results in him choking on his food. After a few seconds of coughing and hacking (and many worried looks), he chugs half a cup of water before answering, “Got to the good part of this comic I’m reading. I gotta find out what happens next!”

Before anyone can comment, he tosses his bowl in the sink and books it out of the room. After making sure no one is following him, Scout takes a turn down the hall towards Spy’s room. He skids to a stop, grabbing the doorknob… and it’s locked.

Scout curses silently. Who the hell locks their door to eat dinner? Actually, that checks out for Spy. Fortunately, Scout learned how to lockpick from the man himself! Bet Spy never expected him to use this useful life knowledge to be used against him! Well, he really hasn’t done anything specific to Scout to warrant his room being broken into. That’s kind of bad.

“I should probably buy him a drink or something as an apology,” Scout mumbles as he fishes a bobby pin out of his pocket.

It takes Scout a minute or so of fumbling with the pin to unlock Spy’s door. With a satisfied grin, he turns the knob and steps into the room.

Spy’s room, unsurprisingly, smells just as distinguished as he is. There’s some hints of wood or vanilla or such that Scout can’t identify, but it’s all fancy scents to him. What he can identify, however, is the unmistakable stench of tobacco. He’s only been in Spy’s room a few times before, but the lingering cigarette smoke has been a constant character during those visits.

Medic doesn’t smoke. He made this fact clear early in their days of working together. Something about him having weak lungs, or whatever. So he must like Spy a lot to put up with that.

But that’s enough pondering. Scout carefully closes the door behind him and surveys his surroundings. There are no traces of clutter anywhere. The bed is neatly made with fluffed pillows, as if it had never been slept on. The curtains are drawn — good thing that he didn’t try to peek through the window. There are no immediate leads to inspect, save for a single notepad laying open on Spy’s otherwise empty desk.

Scout leans over the table, reading the writing on the notepad. He can recognize that handwriting anywhere — and it’s not his father’s.

“Well, Doc,” Scout snickers. “What have we got here?”

He picks up the notepad triumphantly, though his face immediately plummets upon realizing exactly what he’s dealing with. Medic’s doctor handwriting scrawls across the page, blurring into an incomprehensible tumbleweed of chicken scratch before Scout’s eyes. He already has a hard time reading regular writing! This is just impossible! And that’s not even considering the fact that Medic’s writing might not even be in English!

Frantically flipping through the pages, Scout scans for anything he can read at all. Thankfully, a page with “ÜBERCHARGE” circled in red pen catches his eye, and he pauses to inspect the rest of the page. However, all he can identify are various other diagrams of the Medi Gun, syringe guns, and bone saws. Scout flips through the other pages, finding that the majority of them are bulleted lists, sketches of medical instruments, and diagrams of the human body.

So it seems this notepad contains Medic’s work notes. Why in Spy’s room? Why not just work in his own clinic?

With a sigh, Scout places the notepad back down on the desk. What else is there to look for? He peeks in the wastebin, only finding old newspapers and empty cigarette packs. Scout kneels on the ground, craning his neck to look under the bed. Again, nothing. There’s hardly even a speck of dust. Dang!

Scout grabs the sides of his head, screaming silently in frustration. He thought this would be a big lead, but he’s got nothing. Spy’s room is just as mysterious as him, if not more! Maybe he should just go to the clinic…

Suddenly, footsteps approach down the hall. Two sets — could it be?

The doorknob turning confirms his suspicions. Shit!

He hears Spy’s muffled voice. “Oh? I thought I locked it.”

Just as the door opens, Scout launches himself under the bed. He holds his breath, watching a set of boots stride across the room followed by the sound of some pages shuffling.

He stares at the boots, heart thumping against his chest. All he has to do is wait it out. Hold on. His nose twitches. No… it can’t possibly… is there actually dust under the bed? He can’t sneeze now!

Scout clamps his hands over his nose, holding his breath as hard as he possibly can. Thankfully, just as quickly as he arrived, the figure saunters back out the door, shutting it behind him.

Right as Scout is about to release his sneeze, Spy speaks again: “I see you’ve found your notes. Shall we?”

Fuck! Not yet!

A million years (a few seconds of silence) pass before the footsteps retreat, fading into the distance. Finally free, Scout releases a thunderous sneeze, blasting a few pieces of stray lint out from under the bed.

“Ugh,” he grumbles, dragging himself back out into the light. “Never again.”

Forget it. Forget all of this! He’s not going to risk everything for a stupid conspiracy. His father is a grown ass man, as is he, and they’re allowed to have whatever relationships they want!

Scout departs from Spy’s cursed room, slinking sulkily over to Sniper’s room. He knocks on the door. No response. He must be in his van. Damn it.

With a groan, Scout leans against the wall and slides down in defeat. Nothing has gone right today; now he can’t even rant to his best friend. And his stomach also hurts from eating too fast. Fuck his stupid life. Maybe he should just take the loss and go to bed.

“Scout?”

Scout snaps up towards the voice. Sniper towers over him, brows furrowed.

“Snipes!” Scout exclaims, jumping up. “Oh my freakin’ god, it’s a Smissmas miracle!”

Sniper frowns. “It’s not even December.”

Waving his hand, Scout opens the door and ushers Sniper into his own room. “C’mon, pal, enough of that. I’ve got so much to tell you.”

Sniper sits on the edge of his bed, puzzled, as Scout shuts the door.

“What happened?” Sniper asks. “I didn’t think you’d want to hang out today ‘cause you were readin’ your comic.”

“That’s the thing,” Scout says, whirling around. “I lied.”

“Ah—”

“Because I was snooping in Spy’s room.”

“Oh. What? Why?”

“Y’see,” Scout says as he paces, “I was looking for clues for this theory I’ve got that Pa and Medic are together.”

“Together? Do you mean how they’re around each other a lot?”

“Well, yes, but — you know! The other together!”

Sniper stares at him blankly.

“Dating, Snipes.”

“Oh.” Sniper scratches his chin. “Have you asked him?”

“What? No! That’s insane. I can’t let him know I’m invested in his love life!”

“Don’t you already make jokes about him and Engie?”

“No, but — look, that’s different! It’s funny because I’m teasing him, not spying on him.”

“Alright, sure… but why do you think they’re dating?”

“Ain’t it obvious? They’re together all the time!” Scout exclaims, throwing his arms open. “Why are they always visiting each other?”

“Maybe they just like to hang out,” Sniper points out.

“In each other’s rooms? Every freakin’ day?!”

“Uh…”

Scout stops pacing around and flops back-first onto Sniper’s bed. “Who even does all this unless they’re in love with each other or somethin’?”

Sniper stares at him for a second before sucking in a breath and saying, “Mate, I don’t know how to tell you this… but we also hang out every day. In each other’s rooms.”

“No, no, that’s different. It’s ‘cause we’re…” Scout’s voice trails off. “Shit, wait. Hold on.” He sits up. “Yeah… you’re right. We kinda do that, huh?”

“They could just be friends like us,” Sniper says with a shrug.

“Maybe they are!” Scout concedes. “That makes sense. I dunno why I didn’t think of that.” He pats Sniper on the back. “This is why I talk to you, pal. You actually have a brain.”

“Hey, you’re just using your brain in the wrong places,” Sniper chuckles. “Like making conspiracies about your dad’s love life. Are you ever gonna stop teasin’ him about Engie?”

“Not until he stops acting that way around him,” Scout snorts. “Anyways, how about we use our brains for some knitting?”

Sniper nods and fishes out two unfinished sweaters from a basket under his bed — one clearly more tangled than the other, and hands it to Scout.

“We probably can’t get too far tonight,” Sniper says. “It’s late.”

“Eh, whatever,” Scout says, picking up the knitting needles. “Better than nothin’.”

Scout and Sniper spend the rest of the night knitting their sweaters together, no longer concerned about Spy’s dating situation. It’s better this way — Scout has invaded Spy’s privacy enough today. Maybe he’ll also knit Spy something as an extra apology. Later. When he gets better at knitting.

As Spy walks down the hall, he bumps into Scout just exiting Sniper’s room.

“Hey, Pa!” Scout greets, seemingly back to normal from his strange behavior earlier in the day. “How’s the evening been?”

“It has been alright,” Spy replies plainly. He had spent the rest of the night reading in the clinic with Medic. “Yours?”

“Pretty alright, too. I think in a few weeks, I’m gonna be done knitting a sweater.”

“That one the bushman taught you to make?”

“Yeah. And then I’ll learn how to knit exact identical copies of everyone here and hide them around the base for you guys to find when you least expect it.”

“…Good luck with that?”

Scout grins and waves goodbye, continuing down the hall cheerfully. He always looks so happy after spending time with Sniper.

Hm.

Spy shakes his head as he starts back towards his own room. He’s being too nosy. Scout is a grown adult who doesn’t need to be monitored by him. The two are friends, nothing else.

Or… so Spy thought.

Somehow, after that day, his attention towards every interaction between Scout and Sniper has been cranked up by a hundred percent.

When Spy enters the break room the next day, he finds Scout and Sniper sitting on the couch together. Not only that, Scout has his legs kicked over Sniper’s lap.

His mouth drops open, but he promptly leaves the room before either of the two notice his reaction.

As Spy walks through the dining room the day after, he finds the two at the table with Scout eating ice cream straight out of the carton.

“Man, this tastes like ass,” Scout says right before eating another scoop.

“How?” Sniper asks.

“It kinda feels like it’s been neutered. They took the joy of a regular good ice cream and shot it in the back of a van.”

“…Can I try?”

Instead of handing the carton to Sniper as Spy would expect, Scout scoops out another chunk and feeds it to him.

Spy has to leave the room again to not start screaming.

This is absolutely absurd. He knew the two were close, but how did he just start noticing their… behavior now? It’s unacceptable. He must put this to an end as soon as possible.

One may assume Spy to be an overprotective parent, but it is quite the contrary: he is worried for Sniper’s sake. Spy is well aware of Scout’s regular daring endeavors in town with… willing men, but Sniper is very clearly not one of these men.

The poor man has always been so shocked whenever anyone brought up anything related to sex that it’s hard to imagine Scout ever being a fitting partner for him. Spy knows his son is, for the lack of a better word, quite promiscuous. He doesn’t trust Scout to maintain a stable relationship (like father, like son). No, this will be for Sniper’s own safety.

“Bushman,” Spy says one day after battle, “I have something important to tell you.”

“Yeah?” Sniper raises an eyebrow.

Spy stares him dead in the eyes as he delivers the advice: “Make sure you know your partner’s sexual history.”

In the following second, Sniper’s face shifts from confusion, to shock, to embarrassment, back to confusion, and then to an amalgam of unidentifiable emotions.

“W-What?” he stutters.

“You will thank me,” Spy says.

“What the hell do you mean by that?!”

Spy walks away without elaborating, leaving a very flustered Sniper sputtering in dismay. Hopefully that will help Sniper make some better decisions.

It doesn’t work, exactly. Even after Spy’s very informative talk, Sniper still chooses to hang around Scout. It’s time to take more drastic measures to split them up.

Spy attempts first to make Scout a little sick so that he leaves Sniper alone. When Scout isn’t paying attention, Spy adds a few squeezes of eye drops into his Bonk! and waits for the results.

Scout takes a big sip and scrunches his nose in disgust. “Where’d that taste come from?”

“Isn’t that the same flavor as your usual drinks?” Sniper asks.

“I mean, it should be… but it’s kinda weird. Like medicine.”

“There’s no way,” Sniper scoffs. “Let me try.”

At this moment, Spy mentally facepalms. What was he thinking? These two are known serial food-sharers! He watches in defeat as Sniper takes a sip of the laced Bonk! and makes the same face as Scout.

“I don’t know what it’s supposed to taste like normally, but you’re right,” he concedes. “But I’d say it’s more like eye drops…”

“All meds to me,” Scout says with a shrug, taking the can back.

To Spy’s horror, he then proceeds to drain the rest of it. In the following few minutes, Scout shows no symptom of any effects the poisoned drink may or may not have on him, while Sniper’s face grows perpetually paler. He promptly excuses himself to the clinic, leaving Scout in confusion.

Well… it looks like his plan technically worked. He never had the intention for Sniper to be caught in his attempts to keep Scout away. This is not the first time Spy has caused collateral damage while trying to hit a target, but it is certainly the most embarrassing. Not only has he severely misjudged the situation, but his original plan proved to be ineffective.

There is only one explanation for how Scout could have possibly come out unscathed after drinking the entire can after Sniper had far less to drink: he must have built up resistance to poison with his constant consumption of nuclear radiation energy drinks.

Damn the youth.

Spy’s second attempt is much more direct.

When he finds Scout casually leaning on Sniper’s shoulder, he draws out a small throwing knife and aims it cleanly to fly right above Scout’s head for a good scare. However, as soon as he throws the knife, Sniper also leans his head on top of Scout’s. Spy’s sudden panic causes him to release the knife off-course.

As if moving in slow motion, the knife slices through the air, on course towards its unintended target with every passing moment—

It catches the brim of Sniper’s hat and rips it off his head, pinning it to the wall behind. Sniper gasps, stumbling away and causing Scout to face-plant on the ground.

Spy books it before he can personally bear witness to the catastrophic results of his failed plan.

Third time’s the charm, right?

If trying to put Scout out of commission through dubiously lethal practices hasn’t worked, perhaps it’s best to change strategies. A plan that has the greatest chance of working must include a simple trap that would be practically impossible to mess up.

…Which is why Spy sets up a bucket full of mud right above Scout’s door.

He’s at the end of his wits. It has to work to push back Scout’s time to spend with Sniper if he has to wash all the mud off. Even if the two approach together, Spy has observed that Scout is always the one to open his own door first, letting Sniper in afterward. With that knowledge, it would be in no way possible for this method to go awry and endanger the wrong person.

Spy stays hidden as the two approach Scout’s room, but his face drops with dread as he realizes that Scout’s hands are full with a large box of comics.

“Could you get the door for me?” Scout asks, shifting the box uncomfortably in his arms. “Thanks!”

Spy turns away right before he hears a loud SPLAT, followed by the combined screams of two shocked men.

He stops attempting to separate the two after this incident. He already has too much to apologize to Sniper for.

However, Spy does not give up just yet.

A pattern Spy has noticed is that Scout and Sniper would sometimes leave base on Sniper’s van. They usually return before dinner, but during weekends, they would sometimes spend longer out and come back in the middle of the night. No matter what, they always enter the base all giddy. Spy has never seen Sniper more emotive around anyone other than Scout.

What are they doing on these trips? The two of them never talk about their escapades to the rest of the team (at least not where everyone can hear). Perhaps it’s time for him to find out for himself.

The next time he spots Scout and Sniper making their way to the van, Spy cloaks and follows closely behind. However, when they enter the front seats, Spy realizes the fatal flaw in his plan: how will he get into the car?

He pulls on the back door handle — locked. It’s too late for him to pick it. As the engine starts, Spy makes a last-second decision to hop on the ladder attached to the back of the van. He grabs onto the bars, holding onto his hat for dear life as the vehicle picks up speed. Within a minute, the van hits the asphalt roads of the highway, tearing through the New Mexico badlands.

Spy pulls his hat down to cover his eyes, which hardly does anything to prevent the dust and debris flying into his face. Thank god for the mask.

“Hey, Snipes,” he barely hears Scout say from the front amidst all the whipping wind. “Did y’hear anything at the back of the van?”

“I think I did,” Sniper says. “Was it a bird?”

“Maybe? Hope we didn’t hit an animal or somethin’. Ooh, wait, there it is! Pull over next stop!”

Spy takes the risk of dust in his eyes to lift his head in the direction of the exit. There appears to be a quaint little restaurant sitting at the end of it, which isn’t the worst outcome, he supposes.

Wait. Are these two on a dinner date?

After the van turns into the exit and stops in the parking lot, Spy carefully eases himself down the ladder (still shaking from the ride). He checks that he’s still cloaked and takes a step back as Scout and Sniper exit the front.

However, in that moment, Scout suddenly locks eyes with him, eyes wide with appall. How?! Spy checks himself again. He’s still cloaked. How can Scout see him?

“Snipes, don’t call me crazy,” Scout says slowly. “But I think I just saw the dust particles form the shape of my pa for three milliseconds.”

Spy looks down at the dust swirling around his form. He resists the urge to curse. To think he would be given away like this! Damn this place and its dusty floors!

“I don’t know how he’d follow us here, but we can check around the van,” Sniper says.

Spy stands as still as a statue. If he moves, his position will be compromised. But if he doesn’t move… that is another set of issues on its own.

Scout and Spy make cautious steps around the van, hands outstretched, feeling for any solid resistance around them. As they near, Spy holds his breath — suppressing any and all noises. Scout’s hand waves in front of him, nearly brushing the brim of his hat, until Spy leans back ever-so-slightly to avoid contact.

Unfortunately, even a seasoned spy trained in espionage will have to make a run for it if they reach any closer.

The two come much too close for comfort several times over the agonizingly-long three minutes of searching. Scout nearly touches his hat twice, and Sniper steps past his sleeves far more times. Spy swears his face has turned blue from how long he has been holding his breath, but he can’t afford to blow his cover now.

Finally, Scout stops right before Spy and sighs.

“I don’t think he’s here,” he says, relaxing his arm. He nearly hits the end of Spy’s coat, missing it by a mere centimeter.

“Maybe you imagined him ‘cause of how the RED Spy almost got you earlier,” Sniper suggests.

“I guess? Man, this blows,” Scout complains. “Let’s just get some tacos and head back to base. We can always go further next week.”

Farther, Spy corrects him in his head.

Thus, Scout and Sniper order some food at the restaurant (which turns out to be a taco stand), and as they’re distracted, Spy climbs the ladder silently and sits on the roof.

As the two eat their tacos, Spy deliberates his next steps. This plan has imploded miraculously in his face. If he had been anyone else, he would be long discovered, and even he had trouble sneaking around. No, this won’t do. Perhaps, he should try to make sure they can’t go far at all… and also a way to follow them without having to cling onto a moving van.

The return to base is thankfully, uneventful (other than a second round of Spy desperately hanging onto the back of the van). Despite their taco detour, Scout and Sniper still join team dinner. Spy also attends to prevent any suspicions, but with his stomach still doing somersaults from essentially having to endure two extended roller coaster rides, he opts out of eating anything and instead listens in on Sniper and Scout’s conversation. Fortunately, nobody notices.

“I heard this other place is pretty good,” Scout says between bites of his food. “But it’s kinda far out and closed on weekends, which is pretty stupid. Ain’t that the best time for business?”

“What’re the chances that their business is so good they don’t need to open on weekends?” Sniper says.

“That’s true…” Scout says, wiggling a finger. “Now we gotta try it!”

“We can go tomorrow, mate,” Sniper says. “To make up for the short trip today.”

“Sounds freakin’ good!”

The two hit a high five. Spy squints. Tomorrow, huh?

An unexpected tap on his shoulder interrupts his eavesdropping. Spy turns around, met with Medic’s worried stare.

“You haven’t eaten anything,” Medic signs.

Ah, so someone noticed after all.

“My apologies, doctor,” Spy says, faking a smile. “I am not quite hungry yet.”

Medic tilts his head, studying Spy with his glassy blue eyes. “I will take your word for it,” he responds, although he doesn’t seem quite convinced.

“In the meantime, there is something I must ask the Engineer,” Spy says, redirecting the subject. He scans around the table… but the man in question isn’t at his usual seat. “Do you know where he may be?”

Medic sighs and nods.

“In his workshop again?”

Medic nods again, solemnly.

“I see.” Spy stands up. “Thank you. I will seek him out.”

“I will be at the clinic if you need me,” Medic signs as Spy leaves.

Spy strides down the hall on a mission. He only has tonight to act if those two are planning to go out again tomorrow. There is only one person in this base who knows the workings of an automobile well enough to answer oddly specific questions, and that person is currently holed up in a workshop toiling away at god knows what. Spy hopes Engineer can set aside some time to help him. He has to.

Stopping in front of the workshop, Spy knocks on the door with purpose. He hears some shuffling in the room and approaching footsteps before Engineer opens the door, lifting the front of his hard hat to meet Spy’s face.

“Howdy, slim jim,” Engineer greets. Spy’s stomach flutters at the sight of Engineer’s toothy grin. “What’s the news?”

“Hello, Engineer,” Spy returns the formalities, shoving the sensation down as usual. “I have a question.”

“Yeah? Shoot!”

“Do you know how far one can drive a car on slashed tires?”

Engineer’s goggles obscure his eyes, but Spy can clearly recognize his confused blinking.

“Well…” Engineer says after a moment of consideration. “You ain’t gonna make it that far, I’d reckon. Much less than you’d hope. Why do you ask?”

“I suspect that my car’s tires have been punctured,” Spy lies, “and I believe that Sniper used the last spare tire earlier this week.” That part was true, at least. He feels a bit guilty lying to Engineer, but he can’t raise any suspicions.

“That’s a damn shame,” Engineer sighs. “I’ll put in an order for some more. In the meantime, I wouldn’t recommend drivin’ anywhere until you get them replaced. You’ll feel the loss of control over the wheel faster than you’ll see sparks, and by then, it’s already too late.”

“Thank you for your insight,” Spy says, smiling knowingly. “I hope I did not interrupt your work.”

“Ah, it’s nothin’,” Engineer says with a reassuring wave. “Always happy to help a friend.”

“In that case, I shall leave you to it,” Spy says, masking his disappointment towards the fact that the conversation is already over. “I wish you luck with your projects.”

“Seeya, pardner!” Engineer returns with a small wave.

Spy turns around and strides down the hall, discreetly glancing behind after a few steps. Engineer keeps the door open, watching him walk away for a couple seconds before retreating into the room once more.

It’s quite unfortunate — he would love to stay and chat more, but Spy knows well enough that in this state, there is nothing that can break Engineer away from his workshop. Well, there is always another time. Besides, Spy also has a time-sensitive mission to slash some tires tonight.

“You ready to have the best meal of your life?” Scout says, striding towards the van. “Or waste our precious time on some overhyped food?”

“Nah,” Sniper says. “It’s not a waste if we have fun.”

“Huh, yeah! Gonna think of it that way!”

Spy eyes the two closely as they climb into the front. They don’t seem to notice the flat tires amidst their conversation, which is quite unfortunate — the ideal outcome would be that they don’t leave the base at all. However, if Engineer is right (and Spy trusts his insight), it won’t take long for them to notice the van’s instability. Once that happens, they’ll be back at base.

He hopes.

…But he’ll make sure, just to be safe.

As soon as Sniper ignites the engine, Spy slips away to jump into his own car, which is carefully obscured by a wall. He waits until the van has traveled about ten cars’ length away from him before he steps on the gas, trailing right after.

“Which exit do we take this time?” Sniper asks as Scout unfolds a map.

“It’s in the town right after Teufort, so we gotta drive for a hot minute,” Scout explains, tracing his finger down the road. “I’ll let you know when we get near.”

“Do you reckon we’ll make it back in time for dinner?”

“I already let Engie and Heavy know that we’d prolly come back late. They were cool about it.” After a momentary pause, Scout frowns. “Hey, wait. Weren’t you supposed to check in with the doc tonight about that whole Bonk situation?”

“She’ll be right, mate,” Sniper says with a chuckle. “I’ve been fine for a while now. I told him we could do it tomorrow.”

“Sweet! We’ve got the whole night to ourselves!” Pleased, Scout kicks his feet over the dashboard and leans back, absentmindedly watching the surroundings speed past on the side view mirror. “Y’know, I won’t even be mad if the food isn’t the most amazing thing in the world. This is already a fun trip—” Scout’s eye catches a car driving behind them.

The driver’s seat is empty.

“Woah, woah, holy crap!” Scout shrieks, stumbling back into the seat. “Snipes! Snipes, look!” He points frantically to the car in the rear view mirror. “There’s a freakin’ ghost car tailing us!”

“What?” Sniper retorts incredulously. He glances at the car in the mirror for a second before realizing that Scout’s observation is correct and that the car is, in fact, missing a driver. “Holy dooley! What in the—”

“Hit the gas, pal!” Scout demands. “Put the pedal to the metal! We can’t let that thing catch us!”

From the view behind the van, Spy notices them picking up speed. Naturally, his only option is to match them by pressing down on the gas pedal.

Scout screams again. “Crap, crap, crap, the ghost car is also speeding up! C’mon, we gotta go!”

Following his command, Sniper steps harder on the gas. Sparks begin to form at the tires.

Why are they driving faster?! Spy thinks. Have they even realized the tires are flat?

It’s only when they approach a curve in the road that Sniper finally notices the van not turning quite the same. The van skids, sliding across the lane, nearly crashing into the railing before he manages to steer it back on path.

“Hey, what the hell was that for?!” Scout exclaims, clutching his hat like a string of pearls. “I thought you were a good driver!”

“I — What? I am! I am!” Sniper shoots back in defense. “Something’s up with the van. It’s not turning right—”

Another scream erupts from Scout, interrupting him. “Holy shit, the wheels are on fire!”

Sniper cranes his neck over the side window and finds that Scout is right, again, and that there are an abhorrent amount of sparks flying from the slashed tires. His eyes widen.

“That’s it,” Sniper decides, “I’m pulling over!”

“The ghost!” Scout continues to yell. “It’s haunting your car! It’s — wait, wait, wait, look there! A parking lot!”

Thankfully, the van holds out just long enough for Sniper to pull into the parking space of a dinky motel without the tires exploding. Once Spy realizes that they have stopped, he continues driving forward to throw off any possible suspicions. It takes everything for him to not start slamming his dashboard in rage at the situation he had inadvertently created. After he has driven far enough, Spy turns back into the same parking lot at the other side of the building, seething as he exits the car and speed-walks back to the front.

A motel? A motel? Out of all the possible places to stop, why did it have to be the absolute worst-case scenario? How could he have been such an imbecile? This is the worst any of his plans have ever backfired!

After Spy turns the corner, he finds the two crouched before the decimated wheels, scratching their heads.

“It was fine yesterday…” Sniper mumbles. “Did we hit something?”

“Do you think it’s ‘cause of how I crashed your van that one time and all the wheels finally broke?” Scout says.

“I don’t think it would just break all at once,” Sniper remarks. “I think they must’ve been flat before we even drove out.”

“Agh, crap, how’d we miss that?!” Scout clutches the sides of his head. “I shouldn’t have been running my mouth! The ghost car got us because I kept talking!”

“Nah, it’s not your fault. No use moping about it now. Let’s just see if we can get these tires replaced.”

A ghost? Spy thinks. He considers this statement for a second, combing through the possibilities as to what he might possibly mean by that. He didn’t see any supernatural entities chasing them during the drive. In fact, he was the only one on the road with them. Surely, the ghost can’t be…

No.

Spy’s face flushes with shame. He is the ghost! How could he forget that cloaking only hides himself? How can he even call himself a spy after this fumble?

Horrible mistake or not, there’s no time to be freaking out when he still has a mission. Spy sneaks behind the two as they enter the motel. Sniper flips through the phone registry and calls the nearest repair shop, which turns out to be an absurd two whole hours away. By the time a tow truck can drive over to pick up the van, the shop will be closed, and they’ll have to wait until tomorrow for it to be fixed. Scout reacts by physically falling to his knees and pounding the floor in despair.

“Fuck! Our team’s gonna be so pissed!” he wails.

“We can just explain it to them,” Sniper sighs. “Do you still have your headset? Can you contact Miss Pauling?”

“Yeah, it’s just in the van. Dammit! She’s gonna be even more pissed!”

“We don’t have another choice…”

This is a complete and utter disaster, Spy thinks. Perhaps he should have made it more clear that their tires were out of commission. Or maybe he shouldn’t have come up with this plan in the first place… no, they definitely just needed to notice sooner.

In the next few minutes, Scout explains the situation to Miss Pauling, apologizes profusely, begs for forgiveness several times, and then apologizes again.

“Miss P, you can’t see me, but I am actually on my knees!” he says. “This’ll never happen again! I promise!”

He pauses to listen to her response.

“Got it, got it! We’ll be back as soon as possible! It’ll be like we never left!” After a series of “uh-huh’s” and “yep’s,” Scout takes off his headset and hangs it around his neck. “Alright, Snipes. We ride at dawn. Pa is gonna kill us if we’re late to the match tomorrow.”

Oh, don’t worry, Spy thinks. I’ll kill you for other reasons.

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” Sniper says, though he doesn’t sound very convinced himself. “But we should stay here tonight to rest up.”

“Yeah, I’m hungry. And kinda tired.”

Spy watches the two approach the bored-looking desk clerk, who hardly looks up to greet them.

Leaning over the counter, Scout asks, “Hey pal, how much is it for a two-person room?”

“Ten a night,” the clerk says plainly. “But we’re out of those.”

“Out?! There’s none at all?”

The clerk shrugs.

“What else you got left?”

Flipping through the record book, the clerk traces her finger through long lists of occupied rooms. She looks back up and replies, “We have single rooms.”

“Aw, jeez…” Scout scratches his head. “I guess that’ll have to work. I’ll sleep on the floor since you gotta drive.”

“We should have enough room for both of us,” Sniper reassures. “Wouldn’t want ya to be sore tomorrow.”

Spy resists the urge to scream again as the two reserve a room for one. They are far too unbothered about this situation, but at the same time, they don’t seem happy about it either! What does this imply? This is going to drive him mad!

On the other hand, he also needs to get a room. Though, that can wait until after Sniper and Scout fall asleep — whenever that will be.

For the remainder of the evening, Spy discreetly keeps an eye on his targets’ every move. They have a cheap dinner, explore the very bare-bones amenities rooms, have an intellectual debate over if it would be wise to jump in the pool or not (they do not, thank god), and finally retreat to their room by nine.

Spy relocates to outside the motel, continuing to keep watch from the window. He almost lights a cigarette by habit, but he stops himself right before flicking the lighter. Not yet. He can smoke after the two go to bed, when it won’t give away his position.

Otherwise, nothing much happens. Scout and Sniper take off their jackets, wash up as they do in base, and then sit on the bed together.

“What a day,” Scout remarks, flopping onto the mattress. “I can’t believe we got cursed by a ghost. How many people can say that happened to ‘em?”

“Isn’t the RED Soldier cursed by a wizard?” Sniper says.

“No, no, I think they were roommates,” Scout corrects. “But being a roommate with a wizard has gotta be a curse on its own. Can you imagine being woken up by someone chanting wizard spells?”

“It can’t be much worse than our Soldier playing the trumpet every morning.”

“Aw, c’mon. It’s a great alarm! How else am I gonna wake up?”

“…With your own alarm?”

“Yeah, here’s the thing: it stopped working. Battery’s dead.”

“And you never replaced it?”

“Why would I need to? I’ve got Solly’s trumpet and bomb threat warnings!”

“What if one day, Soldier doesn’t wake you up? Will you just sleep until the match?”

“You’ll wake me up, right?”

“Mm… nah.”

Giggling, Scout picks up a pillow and swings it into Sniper’s arm. “You’re a fake-ass friend, y’know that? Fake!”

Sniper grabs the other pillow and smacks Scout back. “Don’t go startin’ fights you can’t win!”

The two descend into an impromptu pillow fight, rolling around in a flurry of feathers and shouts.

“Bonk! Bonk! Bonk!”

“Pillows don’t make that sound, ya dummy!”

“Oh, yeah? Can a pillow do this?”

“Wha — agh! Get back here!”

“Why don’t you throw your pillow with your expert marksman eyes — OW! What the hell? How’d you do that?”

For the next few minutes, Sniper and Scout chase each other around the room, smacking their pillows around and nearly tripping over the furniture. Spy watches in near-astonishment. Scout has the tendency of drawing spirited energy out of anyone he interacts with, but even then, Spy has never seen Sniper act this… boyish, for the lack of a better word. The bushman typically lingers in the back of the crowd, quietly, unless prompted by Scout (and as of recently, Demo).

These two are close. Close enough to be having pillow fights as grown adults. Do friends do this? Spy wouldn’t know. He’s never had a pillow fight before, at least not one that he remembers.

After a while, Scout and Sniper finally end the fight, flopping back onto the bed, laughing between gasps for air.

“You are a beast, Snipes!” Scout pants. “It’s like you’re an expert at pillow fights!”

“I’ve had my fair share of pillow fights when I was younger,” Sniper chuckles. “Though, I was usually on the receiving end.”

The smile fades from Scout’s face as he sits up. “Y’mean… the kids at the orphanage beat you up with pillows?”

“Well, not all the time, I don’t think. Can’t remember much of it, but I had to dodge a lot of pillows thrown at me.”

“Man, what? That’s so fucked up. Those kids were so evil!”

“Eh, well, that’s all in the past. At least I’m a war-hardened pillow fighter now.”

Scout laughs curtly, mindlessly picking at the sheets under his feet. “Yeah, you got that over me. I don’t remember the last time I had a pillow fight. Or the last time I had a sleepover.”

“Does sleeping in a bunch of bunks count as a sleepover?”

“Hm, no. In your case, it’s kinda like sharing a room with siblings.”

“Aren’t you an only child?”

“Yeah, but everyone knows that family doesn’t count as a sleepover.”

Sniper hums, tapping his chin. “Are we having a sleepover right now?”

“I guess?” Scout says thoughtfully. “But we’ve slept in the same bed before. Were those also sleepovers?”

“Mmm… this feels a bit different.”

“It does, yeah. Sure, then it’s a sleepover!”

“To think my first sleepover would be in a motel because my van broke down,” Sniper laughs. “I hope it’s the last.”

“Does it have to be?” Scout says amusedly. “If you ignore the flat tires and ghost chasing us and the single bedroom, I’m kinda glad this all happened and we had a night to ourselves. It’s a nice break from work!”

“I s’pose you’re right. I had fun just hanging out with you.”

“We should do this again sometime. Uh, the trips together, I mean. Not all the crazy stuff happening. Are you interested in any bars or clubs?”

“Sure, I’ll take the drinks and darts.”

“Nice! Let’s go to one next weekend!”

“We can plan it later. We should go to bed early if we want to wake up in time to drive back to base.”

“Yup, yup, let’s do that. I’ll get the lights.”

“I’ll set the alarm for — five?”

“Four.”

“Four-thirty.”

“Fine…”

The lights in the room flick off. Scout and Sniper proceed to sleep normally, on opposite sides of the bed, turned away from each other.

Spy sticks around for a few more minutes. Nothing happens. Good.

Slipping away from the window, Spy sneaks back onto the ground, dusts off his coat, and walks back into the motel lobby as if nothing happened.

Now it’s his turn to get a room and set his alarm for four.

Spy departs for the base an hour before the other two. He’s spied on them enough in the past few weeks. Besides, he doesn’t want to repeat the ghost car situation.

He makes it to the base right as most of his other teammates begin to wake up. Nobody asks where he’s been. As expected. This isn’t the first time he’s disappeared for a night, and it certainly won’t be the last.

Sniper and Scout make it back to base just in time to scarf down some breakfast and get ready for battle. Pretending like he hadn’t stalked them for an entire day is a piece of cake for Spy; in fact, he throws them a bone and doesn’t reprimand them for arriving so late.

Engineer, however, still chews them out. Scout and Sniper shuffle apologetically as he chides them for being irresponsible.

“Spy, you asked me about flat tires the other day,” Engineer says. “Did you know about this?”

“Not at all,” Spy replies, feigning genuine surprise. “We must have driven through the same road that punctured my tires.”

“How did you two not notice something like that?” Engineer reprimands the boys. “It’s a good thing you didn’t get too far!”

Spy would consider the lecture a little deserved if not the fact that they were stranded was at least fifty-percent his fault.

The match itself progresses just fine, though RED pushes them back in the last five minutes of the battle, and they lose. There goes their win-streak. Oh, well.

After the match, everything returns to normal — with Sniper and Scout sticking to each other inseparably as before, perhaps even more so. Spy and Medic retreat to the clinic, as usual, and work on their mundane tasks, as usual.

Except, Spy barely finishes parsing through one page of his reports before Medic knocks on the table to get his attention.

“Yes, doctor?” he asks, lifting his head.

“Where were you last night?” Medic asks.

Spy’s first instinct is to lie, to tell Medic that he was out gathering reports on the surroundings and the enemy team, until he realizes that there is no point. He shouldn’t be lying to his friend over something this insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

“I was keeping an eye on my son’s escapades with the bushman,” Spy lays it out plainly, masterfully avoiding any descriptions that would make it sound like he was stalking them.

“So, you were stalking them,” Medic concludes.

“Merde,” Spy says under his breath.

“Why would you need to stalk our own teammates?” Medic asks, eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and vexation. “Your son, no less?”

Inhaling deeply, Spy lets out a long sigh and leans back in his chair. “It is complicated.”

“We have time.”

“We do. We do…”

Spy stares at the ceiling for a few more seconds before sitting back up.

“I had a suspicion Scout is dating Sniper,” he says.

Raising an eyebrow, Medic replies, “I can see why you think that. Did you notice anything specific?”

“I only started noticing recently that their behavior seemed very intimate,” Spy explains. “They are much more affectionate with each other than to others, they share food, they spend all their time with each other, and they take trips out in Sniper’s van on a regular basis.”

“That sounds wonderful, dating or not.”

“But the thing is, it is not all wonderful.”

Medic frowns, blinking as if to ask, “how so?”

“My son is far from the best person to date,” Spy elaborates, “I tried to warn Sniper to tread carefully, but he didn’t seem to listen. Then I tried to… separate them…” Spy’s voice trails off as he begins to realize how ridiculous his whole operation was, now that he is telling this to another person.

“Was this related to that time Sniper got poisoned?” Medic asks, signing tensely.

“The details of who poisoned whom and the original target of the poisoning attempt is irrelevant to the rest of this story,” Spy coughs.

“Spy!”

“Fine! I only tried to make Scout a little sick so they would spend some time away from each other.”

A very loud, awkward pause follows his statement. If looks could kill, Medic’s icy glare would be burning holes in his face.

“Now that I am saying this out loud,” Spy mumbles. “This was a very stupid idea.”

Medic takes off his glasses and pinches his nose bridge.

Spy’s face flushes red under his mask. Why was he doing all of that? Why did it matter? Is he crazy?

After exasperatedly fitting his glasses back over his face, Medic signs, “I assume you followed them out last night when they got trapped outside of base.”

Spy nods. He debates sharing the detail that he was the reason why they were trapped. Is it still lying if he’s technically only omitting the truth?

“Did you do something that resulted in this situation?”

Damn. Nothing slips past Medic.

“Yes…” Spy answers, shamefully hanging his head.

Medic rubs his temples before continuing, “What was your goal? Did you think any of this through?”

“You must understand,” Spy explains, desperately trying to salvage any semblance of dignity in his actions. “I originally slashed Sniper’s tires to prevent them from leaving the base at all. Somehow, they still managed to drive out far enough to be stranded once they finally realized the tires were flat.”

“Please tell me you at least left them alone at the motel.”

Spy stays silent.

“You did not.”

“I am a spy, doctor. This is my job.”

“Nobody is paying you to spy on your teammates!”

“I truly had nothing better to do.”

“You could have driven back and left them alone. Or you could have given them a ride home while the van was in repair.”

“I did consider this, but they would have figured out I was following them.”

“Of course,” Medic signs, rolling his eyes. “So, if you stayed that entire time, did you discover anything?”

“The two of them had to share one bed, although nothing happened. All they did was have a pillow fight and talk afterwards…”

Medic lets out a small huff through his nose. “Did you expect anything to happen?”

Sucking a breath through his teeth, Spy opens his mouth to respond, but no matter what, he can’t formulate an eloquent enough answer to Medic’s question—

“Tell me, truthfully,” Medic signs. “What would you have done if they actually had sex?”

Spy splutters, lurching forward in his chair. “Mon dieu! Don’t say that!”

“What?” Medic signs, unamused. “That is what you were expecting, right?”

“W-Well, in a sense… but… you didn’t have to put it that way!”

“So, what would you have done?”

“I — I didn’t think that far. Throw a rock through the window?”

His stupid comment catches Medic completely off-guard, causing him to break into a silent laughing fit. For an entire thirty seconds, Spy sits as still as a statue, flushing even more under the mask as he watches Medic double over with laughter right in his face over his idiotic insanity.

After Medic finally finishes giggling, he wipes a tear off his eye and pats Spy’s shoulder with an amused smirk. “I don’t think we need to worry about them, my friend. At least, not on Sniper’s end. Remember how appalled he was after finding out we were attracted to Engineer?”

“Sorry, we?”

“I doubt they are engaging in that sort of intimacy,” Medic signs, glazing over Spy’s reaction. “And even if they were, it is none of our business.”

“This is… fair,” Spy mutters.

“Though, I must know: if you were that determined to find out if they were dating, have you asked your son directly?”

“What? No, that is simply insane. I can’t let him know I’m invested in his love life.”

The previous air of joviality dissipates as Medic eyes at him with cold, hard judgement. Letting out a curt sigh, he signs slowly, “I see how it is. My advice is that you should either ask him if he is dating Sniper, or you should drop the stalking entirely. For your own good, I will not engage in your delusions.”

“Well—” Spy huffs. He shifts his mouth awkwardly, unable to form a response, before giving up. “Fine. You are right. I’ll leave them alone.”

A hint of disappointment flashes across Medic’s face, though it quickly disappears after he nods. “Good. Because if you do not stop bothering those two, I will tell them you have been stalking them.”

He is dead serious.

“I promise, doctor,” Spy says, holding up an open palm. “I trust your judgement.”

Satisfied, Medic nods and smiles sagaciously. He then stands up and signs, “Speaking of Sniper, I must fetch him for his check-up. Unless you would like to witness the consequences of your assassination attempt, I suggest you leave for the time being.”

Spy tugs at his collar sheepishly. “Right.” He pushes himself out of the chair and grabs his documents. “I shall see you at dinner, then?”

Medic nods.

Waving, Spy departs from the clinic, striding down the hall towards his own room. As he turns the corner, he runs into Scout cheerfully exiting his room.

“Hey, Pa!” Scout greets with a wave. “Doc’s not with you?”

“He has an appointment with Sniper,” Spy says.

“Aw, crap, I forgot about that,” Scout remarks, clicking his tongue. “Alright, guess I can’t see him. Do you know where Demo is?”

“Demoman?” Spy thinks for a second. “I believe he was in the common room when I last saw him.”

“Sweet, I’ll go bother him now!” Scout shoots Spy a thumbs up as he walks past him. “Thanks!”

Bothering Demoman, huh? He hadn’t been paying attention to their interactions ever since he started conspiring against Scout and Sniper. Now that Spy thinks about it, those two are quite notorious for their constant bickering. What else had he not noticed about Scout’s relationships with the other team members?

Perhaps he needed Medic to humble him; there is clearly a lot he doesn’t know and will never know. He has to remember that Scout has his own relationships that he’ll never be able to decipher entirely. Just because he wasn’t always around for Scout’s childhood doesn’t mean he needs to make up for that lost time worrying about his son’s adult life.

Scout will be fine. He hopes.

Setting his thoughts aside, Spy lights a cigarette and continues walking.