Chapter Text
“Yer headin’ out?”
“Yes. I won’t be long.”
“Where’re ya goin’?”
Spy’s steps halted for a moment. Rather than looking back at his colleague, he instead decided to cast a mischievous grin at the dull blue of the linoleum floor.
Demoman made a noise of understanding as he put the pieces together. “Oh...don’t tell me. Yer off to watch ‘im again, aren’t ya?”
Spy turned fully to face him, a ‘guilty-as-charged' gleam in his playful eyes. “What gave me away?”
The Scot blew air to the side with a throaty chuckle. “Yer not exactly bein’ subtle, lad. Besides, I know that look.”
“What look?”
“It’s the same one you make durin’ a match whenever we tell ya to get that bloody sniper off our backs,” Demo explained as he leaned a shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms. “It’s intense, and if ya don’t mind me sayin’, a little too excited.”
Spy didn’t seem offended or uncomfortable by that. If anything, he looked proud.
Demo had to admit, as weird as the situation was, he couldn’t help but be at least mildly curious about it. He didn’t even wait for Spy to respond before popping out another question.
“Can I ask ya somethin’?”
Spy’s grin faded slightly, but he nodded.
“What the hell do ya see in ‘im? The rest of our team hates his guts, but while we’re tryin’ to stay as far away from ‘im as possible, you’re actually tryin’ to get closer. And off the clock, to boot!”
At first, Demo feared that Spy was going to find his questioning rude or unacceptable somehow, as if what he had been doing these last few nights was perfectly appropriate by comparison. However, Spy glanced at the wall, hummed in thought, and lo and behold, his smile returned.
“What do I see in him? I’ll be honest, mon ami, I’m not entirely sure.” The older mercenary fetched his cigarette case and slid one out of the bundle.
“Perhaps that’s one reason why I find myself so drawn to him. The elusiveness of a clear answer. The mystery of my own mind. I find it oddly...”
His answer paused completely as he lit his cigarette, took in a long drag, and then exhaled. Only then did he look at Demo and finish the response.
“Exhilarating.”
“Huh,” the other man vocalized as he looked away, suddenly made uncomfortable by his colleague’s stare. Maybe his curiosity got the better of him, and they really shouldn’t have been talking about this right now, or at all.
And yet, something possessed Demo to say the next part, and by the time he thought better off it, the words had already passed his lips.
“I dunno, lad...I got no prejudice, you havin’ a thing for another bloke and all. But this is an opponent, an enemy, even. And you’re goin’ almost every night at this point. It’s...I mean...don’t ya think this is all a bit—”
Spy looked at him straight on, and what Demo saw made his mouth shut like a clam. A cold, hard stare ripped into his soul as the man across the hall took another cigarette drag. It wasn’t anger on his face, or even irritation. Truthfully, he wasn’t quite sure what it was, but the demolition’s expert knew this:
Spy had a bad side, and he wasn’t particularly interested in finding himself on it.
And then he had to ask himself: Why did he care? What the man did on his personal time was his own business, no matter how strange or fucked up it was. Besides, Demo knew Spy was capable of much, much worse.
“Ah, never mind.” He dismissed it with a small wave. Demo then turned around and started heading the other way in hopes of securing a good, strong drink. How else was he supposed to end the day?
“Night, lad,” he tossed over his shoulder as though they had just finished a perfectly normal and mundane conversation. He didn’t want Spy thinking there were any hard feelings or judgement, even if that wasn’t entirely true.
And whether Spy suspected it or not, this was all he said before they parted ways for the night.
“Bonne nuit.”
~
Spy was here a little earlier tonight, and not by accident. He had memorized the other man’s schedule down to the minute.
The sniper wouldn’t be in his camper quite yet. It was just after 8 o’clock. He’d be in the showers right now with most of his teammates. Oh, what Spy wouldn’t give to sneak a glance in there one of these nights. Far too risky, and far too deep into enemy territory, even if he used the cloak and dagger.
But he could live with that, because rather than spying on the man when he was already in his ‘home’, the BLU mercenary intended to break in. He thought it might be fun. A slight mix-up of his regular routine. And who knows? Maybe he’d uncover something interesting that would help him further understand just what made Mick Mundy tick.
Clinging to the shadows, Spy crept along the edge of the tan rock cliff as quietly as possible. Although he was currently invisible, he still didn’t want to take any risks. There was always the possibility his RED counterpart could be lurking about, and getting caught by him would be an amateur’s mistake. Fortunately, as he slunk closer to the parked camper van, Spy did not see any hint of another soul for miles.
All the lights inside the car, and the camper itself, were off. Spy couldn’t hear anything coming from within. Even so, the assassin double-checked that it really was unoccupied, just in case the Australian had decided to randomly turn in early for the night.
After sidling up to the back door, the only thing standing between Spy and the interior of the camper was a bit of expert lock-picking. Well, hardly “expert” level at all. It was a very simple lock, and Spy had done this a million times on far trickier contraptions. After concentrating with his tools for a mere minute at most, the door to the camper was unlocked with a satisfying click. Spy risked the smallest of chuckles before stepping inside. Only after shutting the door behind him did he finally de-cloak.
What on earth did Mundy see in this place?
Spy couldn’t understand why anyone, even someone with far less class than him, could stand to live in these conditions. The camper was a bit larger on the inside than he expected, but that didn’t mean it still wasn’t terribly cramped. The air had a warm staleness to it, but Spy could appreciate the lingering smell of cigarette fumes that clung to the walls. While most found that scent disgusting, to him, it smelled like home.
Spy didn’t want to risk turning the main light on in case it alerted someone to the intrusion, so instead, he flicked his lighter open and used it as a makeshift flashlight as he began to explore the tiny space.
To his left; a very small kitchenette that barely classified as such. A couple of dirty dishes nearly filled up the sink due to how small it was. A mini fridge sat underneath, and Spy decided to take a look. It was practically empty, save for a couple cans of beer and some questionable looking packaged meat.
“Glamorous,” Spy whispered in sarcasm as he smirked and shut the door.
To his right was a small table with two equally small seats on either side, almost like the miniature version of a diner booth. Sitting on the table was a pack of cheap cigarettes and a box of rifle ammunition. That certainly tracked. There was also a hunting magazine splayed down with the spine up. Spy leafed through it briefly before setting it back down exactly as he found it, no matter how much it pained him.
As his gaze flicked around the rest of the camper, Spy was honestly surprised at how well-kept it was. He thought it would be messier for some reason, as that would line up with the more animalistic way the Australian presented himself. Perhaps he had caught the bushman on a good week when his living quarters were on the more organized side. Maybe it was like this all the time. If he ever visited again, perhaps he’d find out.
Spy took a moment to rifle through some cupboards, but there wasn’t much of interest. Mostly canned food and other non-perishable goods. Some old hunting equipment. Spare towels, toilet rolls, and...
A jar of urine. Lovely. Spy sincerely wished he didn’t know what it felt like to be covered in the bodily fluid. He closed the cupboard door and barely stifled a gag.
If there was one truth that was starting to cement itself, it was that Mick Mundy was not one for materialism. He liked to live simply, with as few things as possible. Well, not much choice when you’re practically living in a shoebox, but Spy had a feeling the man would prefer it either way.
As his attention pinned forward, Spy slowly walked towards the bed. If he was honest, it did look rather comfortable. Cozy in a compact way. He could imagine the sniper collapsing into it at the end of a long workday and sleeping until dawn’s light peaked through the curtains. The bed was unmade, of course. Spy expected nothing else.
He delicately traced two fingers along the edge of the bed, staring longingly at the rumpled sheets and crooked pillows. As he did so, he gave a small smirk as his mind jumped to interesting places.
He couldn’t help but think about how many women had slept in this bed over the years. Or how many men? His opponent’s sexuality was one of the few things Spy had yet to narrow down. He thought he might be able to gleam some kind of hint from the drawer next to the bed. An adult magazine, condoms, a pleasure device, or perhaps a picture of his current lover tucked away somewhere. Alas, there was nothing of the sort.
It made Spy irrationally angry for some reason, like he couldn’t stand the thought of his obsession not being as carnally inclined as he was. What man was without such desires?
However, that anger was quick to fade like an ice cube dropped into boiling water when another idea came to him. As his face hovered even closer to the sheets, he detected a familiar smell. Not necessarily good or bad. Just...human; his human.
He recognized the scent almost immediately from all the times he had crept up behind the sniper. Notes of pine, cordite, and leather flooded his senses, and Spy grabbed a great fistful of the sheets before practically shoving them under his nostrils.
Lord, what euphoria. Whenever Mundy washed the sheets next, Spy would find himself disappointed.
After he’d taken a few good ‘hits’ as it were, Spy allowed the fabric to fall loosely out of his gloved fingers before setting his mind on other things. Like the bathroom, for instance.
Well, calling it a bathroom was extremely generous. The layout was scarcely more than an outhouse. Something most would use out of desperate necessity rather than actively choosing to. Spy was certainly not the kind of person to relieve himself here unless he was in dire straits.
Still, it wasn’t completely barren of life or personality. After briefly scanning the single toilet and the simple sink, Spy observed all the usual suspects. A bar of hand soap, shaving cream and a razor, a hairbrush, and a toothbrush sitting in a small plastic cup.
Spy’s heart skipped a beat as he did a double take.
His toothbrush.
His throat rumbled low with laughter as he slowly reached out and plucked the item from its home. As he did, a truly strange impulse took hold of him, but his mind was in such a manic state of obsession that he did not view it as such.
Spy brought the toothbrush to his mouth and gave it a good, long lick. He did this a few times and enjoyed the sensation of the bristles scraping against his tongue. He even dragged it across his teeth and gums, like he was trying to coat it in as much of his DNA as possible.
Although it pained him to think that this was the closest they might ever get to sharing a kiss, there was something deliciously satisfying about knowing both of their mouths had shared this object. It nearly made Spy shudder with delight as he placed the toothbrush back in the cup.
And the best part? The sniper would never know. Just as he would never know that Spy was here tonight.
Oh, he might suspect. He might get a faint, barely noticeable impression that someone at some point might have broken into his beloved camper. But he would never know for certain. Perhaps it would even drive him slightly mad. That notion also gave Spy a surprising thrill.
As he glanced at his watch, the man exhaled a disappointed sigh. Mundy would be leaving the base soon. He was probably saying goodnight to his colleagues right now. As fun as this little venture had been, it was time to leave.
After making sure that every item and object in that camper was exactly as it was when Spy entered, he slipped on his invisibility once more and locked the door behind him.
But he didn’t return to the BLU base just yet. No. Instead, he hid behind one of the rocks near the cliff (despite the fact he was already invisible) and waited perfectly still for his obsession to arrive.
A few minutes passed, and then a few more. Finally, Spy’s heart gave a tiny leap as he saw the sniper turn the corner of the dirt path leading down towards the highway. He had one hand stuffed in his pocket, and the other holding a cigarette that he was currently taking a drag from. As that little orange dot briefly illuminated those handsome features in the darkness, Spy barely stopped himself from releasing a sigh of adoration.
The Australian took one more drag and tossed his cigarette butt somewhere out into the dust of the night. He then stepped up to the camper door, took out his key, and unlocked it – seemingly none the wiser.
As the door softly shut behind him, Spy felt he could risk getting a little closer. He was still invisible after all, and this was more akin to what he’d normally do on these sorts of ‘visits’.
As he crept up to the camper van once more, Spy listened for anything that might give a clue as to what the sniper was up to. He heard some slight rummaging and the sounds of cupboards closing. The toilet flushed. Mundy coughed a few times.
It was nothing eventful, and yet, it was all intriguing to Spy. Everything this man did intrigued him, and the interest did not seem to be dying out anytime soon.
Between the slits of the window blinds, Spy could just barely make out the shape of Mundy pulling his red uniform off and over his head, followed by the white undershirt. His form disappeared after that, and shortly after, all lights in the camper went out.
Spy gave a small, wistful sigh as he placed a delicate hand on the exterior of the camper. He shot the window a longing stare, wishing he could see through the walls to watch his darling’s chest rise and fall in gentle rhythm.
As he walked away into that gentle dusk to light a cigarette of his own, Spy wished for so many things that were beyond his reach.
Or were they?