A Long Shot

The dust hadn't even settled yet. Smoke curled lazily from the barrel of Sniper's rifle as he watched the last BLU Heavy crumple to the ground. The battle was over, for now. He could hear the distant shouts of his teammates celebrating back at the base, but he stayed where he was, perched on a rocky outcropping overlooking the ravine. The sun was setting, casting long shadows and painting the sky in shades of orange and purple.

He didn't hear the footsteps until they were almost upon him. "Hey, bushman! You coming or what?"

Sniper didn't turn. Scout. Of course. The kid was always buzzing around like a fly on meth, never able to sit still. "Just making sure the job's done," Sniper said, his voice low and even.

Scout hopped up onto the rock beside him, his Boston accent cutting through the quiet. "Job's done, mate. We won. Again. Let's go get a beer or somethin'."

"You go on ahead."

"Nah, man. The others are already raiding the fridge. Heavy's probably eaten everything by now." Scout sat down, surprisingly close. Sniper could smell the sweat and gunpowder on him, mixed with something else—cheap deodorant maybe. "What's your deal? You always hang back after a fight. Get all broody."

Sniper finally turned to look at him. Scout's face was smudged with dirt, his cap askew, but his eyes were bright and annoyingly persistent. "I like the quiet," Sniper said. "Gives me time to think."

"Think about what?"

"Stuff."

Scout snorted. "You're a weird dude, you know that?" But he didn't move. He stared out at the view, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. The wind picked up, rustling the sparse grass on the cliff edge.

"It's pretty," Scout said quietly, almost to himself.

Sniper felt a strange pang in his chest. "Yeah. It is."

Their eyes met. Scout's gaze was usually a challenge, cocky and unblinking. But now there was something else there—a vulnerability that Sniper had never seen before. It made him want to look away, but he couldn't.

"You ever think about what it would be like if we weren't soldiers?" Scout asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Every day."

Scout shifted closer. Their arms were almost touching. "I think about it too. Sometimes I imagine... I dunno. A normal life. A house. A dog. Someone to come home to." He laughed nervously. "Sounds stupid, right?"

"Doesn't sound stupid at all."

Scout bit his lip. "Mundy..." He never used Sniper's real name. It felt intimate, like a secret shared. "I ain't good at this. Talkin' about feelings and crap. But I've been thinkin' about you. A lot."

Sniper's heart hammered against his ribs. He'd been thinking about Scout too, for months. In the quiet moments, in the dark hours before dawn, when the adrenaline wore off and he was left alone with his thoughts, it was Scout's face that appeared. The way he moved, fast and reckless. The sound of his laugh, cocky and infectious. The surprising kindness he showed sometimes, when he thought no one was looking.

"I know," Sniper said. "I mean... I've noticed."

"Noticed what?"

"The way you look at me. The way you always find me after a fight."

Scout's face flushed red, visible even in the fading light. "Oh. Uh. Yeah. Well, you're not exactly subtle yourself, mate. You always got your eye on me."

"Because I'm watching your back," Sniper said. And then, quieter: "And because I like looking at you."

Scout's breath caught. They were inches apart now, the space between them electric. "You... you mean that?"

"I don't say things I don't mean."

Scout let out a shaky laugh. "Yeah. I know. That's what I like about you. You're real. Everyone else is always jokin' and yellin', but you're just... quiet. Solid. Like I can count on you."

"You can."

Scout leaned in, and for a terrifying, exhilarating moment, Sniper thought he was going to kiss him. But Scout stopped, hesitating, his eyes searching Sniper's face for permission. Sniper felt a surge of courage. He reached out, his hand rough and calloused, and cupped Scout's cheek. The younger man's skin was warm, his stubble scratching against Sniper's palm.

"Mickey," Sniper murmured, using Scout's first name for the first time. "It's okay."

And then he closed the distance.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative. Their lips brushed, tasted of dust and salt. Sniper's other hand found Scout's waist, pulling him closer. Scout responded eagerly, his hands fisting in Sniper's shirt. The world disappeared—the smoke, the distant sounds of battle, the ever-present hum of the respawn machine. There was only this, only them.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Scout had tears in his eyes. "Damn," he whispered. "That was... damn."

Sniper smiled, a rare, genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Yeah."

They sat in silence, arms around each other, watching the sun dip below the horizon. The stars began to emerge, one by one, scattered across the darkening sky. Scout leaned his head on Sniper's shoulder.

"We should probably go back," he said reluctantly.

"Probably."

Neither of them moved.

Eventually, the chill of the night air drove them to their feet. They walked back to the base together, hands brushing, not quite holding. When they entered the common room, the others were sprawled about, drunk and laughing. Heavy waved a bottle at them. "Sniper! Scout! Come, drink! We celebrate victory!"

Scout grinned, his usual bravado sliding back into place. "Hell yeah! Save some for me, you big lug!" He made a beeline for the cooler, but not before shooting a quick, meaningful glance back at Sniper.

Sniper nodded almost imperceptibly. He took a seat in the corner, nursing a beer, watching Scout laugh and brag. The kid was a whirlwind of energy, but now Sniper knew the softness beneath. He knew the fear and the hope. And he knew that whatever came next, he wasn't alone anymore.

Later, when the party wound down and the others stumbled off to their bunks, Scout found him again. He slipped into Sniper's van, the familiar clutter of ammunition boxes and ammo belts a welcome sight. Without a word, Scout crawled into the cot beside him, his body warm and solid against Sniper's back.

"Hey, Mundy?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad it's you."

Sniper turned over, wrapping an arm around Scout's waist. "Me too."

They fell asleep like that, tangled together, the quiet hum of the van's heater their only lullaby. In the morning, there would be more battles, more respawns, more chaos. But for now, in the dark, they had each other. And that was enough.