Sniper's Aim, Scout's Heart

The sun bled orange and red across the dusty desert sky, casting long shadows over the base. The battle had ended hours ago, the respawn machines humming softly as the team repaired and recuperated. Most were in the common room, shouting over card games or nursing mugs of coffee. But not Scout. He was perched on the edge of the cliff overlooking the respawn point, legs dangling over the precipice, watching the fading light.

Sniper found him there, a silhouette against the dying day. He’d been looking for the kid—not that he’d admit it out loud. Something about Scout’s energy usually grated on him, but lately, it was a pull. A need to be near that endless chatter. Tonight, Scout was quiet.

“Mind if I join you?” Sniper asked, his voice low, almost lost in the breeze.

Scout startled, nearly slipping off the rock. “Jeez, mate! Don’t sneak up on a guy like that!”

Sniper chuckled, settling down beside him, leaving a careful foot of space. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to spook ya.”

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Sniper pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapped one out, and lit it, the flame briefly illuminating his sharp features. Scout watched him from the corner of his eye.

“You don’t usually come out here,” Scout said, hugging his knees. “This is my spot.”

“I know.” Sniper took a long drag, exhaling smoke that curled into the twilight. “Figured you might want company.”

Scout snorted. “Why would I want company from a big, grumpy bloke who smells like camper van and old bullets?”

Sniper smirked. “Because I bring the good snacks. Got a pack of biscuits in my pocket.”

“Liar.” But Scout’s voice was lighter.

“Truth.” Sniper reached into his vest and pulled out a crumpled package of shortbread. He offered it to Scout, who hesitated, then took it.

They shared the biscuits in silence as the stars began to prick the sky. The base lights flickered on below, voices drifting up—laughter, a curse from Heavy, Spy’s smooth murmur. Up here, it felt like another world.

“What’s on your mind, kid?” Sniper asked, stubbing out his cigarette.

Scout shrugged, fiddling with a crumb. “Nothin’. Just… thinkin’.”

“About?”

“Stuff. How this is all we got. Fightin’, dyin’, comin’ back. Over and over. What’s the point?”

Sniper was quiet for a moment, then said, “The point is what we make of it. Little moments. Like this.”

Scout looked at him, really looked. The sniper’s eyes were soft under that hat, the perpetual tension in his jaw eased. He seemed almost… vulnerable.

“Yeah?” Scout whispered.

“Yeah.” Sniper shifted, closing the distance between them. His hand brushed Scout’s, tentative. “I’ve been watchin’ you, Jeremy. Not just through the scope.”

Scout’s breath caught. Nobody called him Jeremy except his ma. “You… what?”

“I see you. The way you never give up, even when it’s hopeless. How you crack jokes to keep everyone’s spirits up. How you run faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. You’re beautiful, mate. Inside and out.”

Scout’s face flushed, the red almost visible in the dim light. “You’re just messin’ with me.”

“I’m not,” Sniper said, his voice earnest. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while. Just never had the guts.”

“But you’re the sniper,” Scout said, a nervous laugh. “You got guts for days.”

“Different kind of guts.” Sniper’s thumb traced a circle on Scout’s knuckles. “This kind is harder.”

Scout didn’t pull away. Instead, he turned his hand over, lacing their fingers together. His heart pounded so loud he was sure Sniper could hear it.

“I never thought…” Scout started, then stopped. “I mean, you’re always so quiet. And I talk too much. We’re like oil and water.”

“Maybe that’s why it works,” Sniper said. “You’re the fire. I’m the steady aim. Together, we’re something else.”

Scout leaned in, his forehead resting against Sniper’s shoulder. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all that romance junk. But… I wouldn’t mind tryin’.”

Sniper’s arm wrapped around him, pulling him close. “Take all the time you need. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

They sat like that as the night deepened, the stars wheeling overhead. Down below, Engineer’s radio crackled with old country songs. Scout felt safe, warm, anchored. For the first time in a long while, the constant hum of his brain quieted.

“Hey, Sniper?” he murmured.

“Mick,” Sniper corrected softly. “Call me Mick.”

“Mick,” Scout said, testing the name. “Thanks. For the biscuits. And for…”

“I know.” Mick pressed a kiss to the top of Scout’s head. “You’re welcome.”

They stayed until the moon was high, then walked back to the base, hands still clasped, stepping into the light of the common room together. Heavy raised an eyebrow. Spy smirked. But neither Scout nor Mick cared. They had found something worth more than any victory.

And in the battles to come, they’d have each other’s backs—and hearts.