Spy gritted his teeth as Scout laughed from where he was currently standing, on the roof of the RED’s base. How the boy had managed to jump up there, he had no idea, but it was imperative that he get down. “You are a grown man, Scout! Enough with this childishness! Come down here and get your suit on so we can go!”
“You don’t have much of a choice, boy,” Spy snapped. “It’s part of your contract, so get down here and let’s get this over with!”
“Just cuz the party is a part of the contract doesn’t mean I have to dress fancy!” Scout said, crossing his arms. “Maybe I’ll go in my uniform! Or maybe I’ll go nude!”
Spy was itching to pull his revolver out and just shoot the boy, but it was a ceasefire day because of the party, which meant Respawn wasn’t on, so he couldn’t. “Will you please get down here? The sooner you comply, the sooner this will be over!”
“Fuck off, frog!” Scout cried, flipping Spy off and waltzing away.
“Vous êtes chanceux, vous êtes mon fils, ou je vous tue!”
“My, my, zere is a lot of shouting going on out here,” a German voice said. Spy whirled to see no other than Medic standing behind him, already dressed for the event. “Still trying to vrangle Scout into a suit, I see.”
“Oui. Were you able to get your half of the team ready?” Spy asked, hoping the doctor hadn’t heard what he’d just said. Spy and Medic had divided the team amongst themselves so they could get the others looking decent for the party. Medic had had to deal with Heavy, Soldier, Engineer, and Pyro, while Spy had been lucky enough to have Sniper, Demo, and Scout. Sniper had been compliant enough, if grumbly. Demo had only agreed to it because Spy promised him access to his vault of alcohol for one night. And Scout…well, you could see how well it was going with Scout.
“Ja, zey are all ready to go,” Medic said, folding his hands behind his back and grinning at Spy. “I see you are no closer to getting ihr sohn ready zan you were an hour ago.”
So perhaps Medic had heard him. His German was far from perfect, but that word sounded too close to what he assumed was its English counterpart. “The boy is being impossible! I have tried everything—reason, bribes, everything! What can I do?” He shrugged helplessly. It wasn’t like him to ask for help, but what was a man to do?
Medic just shrugged. “Ah, vell, you still have an hour until ve have to go. I’m sure you’ll think of something. He’s your boy, after all.” The doctor turned, smiling to himself, and reentered the base.
“Merde.” Spy held his head in his hand. He should have known better than to say something like that when at least one other person on this base spoke French. He just hoped Medic would have the sense not to let the cat out of the bag, as the saying went.
“Whatcha old farts talking about?” Scout reappeared, poking his head over the edge of the roof and peering curiously at Spy. “What’d the doc mean by ‘he’s your boy’?”
A thought struck Spy. “If you get down here and put on the suit, I will tell you.”
Scout stuck out his tongue. “Fat chance of that, chucklenuts. I’ll just go ask the doc myself!”
“Ah, but are you so sure he will tell you?” Spy said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. He casually took a deep drag and blew smoke rings, enjoying watching Scout squirm in his indecision and doubt. “The doctor is almost as close-mouthed as I am, if not more so on some things. Do you want to risk not knowing? This is my only offer, and the only time I will offer it. Choose, boy.”
He could see Scout’s face twisting in indecision as the younger man thought out his options. Slowly, grudgingly, he climbed down from the roof of the base and slunk over to Spy. “Fine, I’ll wear the stupid suit. Now tell me what the doc meant!”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Spy said, grabbing the boy by the collar so he couldn’t escape. “Suit first, then the explanation. Come, mon fils, I should have a suit that fits you.”
Scout scowled and shrugged off his hand. “I’ve got my own suit, I don’t need to wear one of yours. They smell like cigarettes anyway.”
“Humor me,” Spy said, retracting his hand and heading for his bedroom. “And this one will not smell of cigarettes, I promise you that.”
Scout looked doubtful, but followed him nonetheless. When they entered Spy’s room, he gaped. “This is your room?”
Spy frowned as he dug through his small closet. “Oui. You were expecting something else?”
“Just…I dunno, pictures of your old enemies that were still on the loose? Maybe some miniature Eiffel Towers? Cigarette butts everywhere?” Scout frowned at the only adornment in the room—which happened to be a picture of Spy and Scout’s mother. “Aw, hell no!”
The boy snatched up the picture and shoved it in Spy’s face. “Why the hell do you have a picture of you and my ma, you sneak!”
Spy rolled his eyes as he pulled out a small cardboard box from his closet. “Because it is the only picture I have of her, you imbecile. Here, try this on.” He deftly traded the picture for the box and placed it back on the nightstand.
“You know that ain’t what I meant!” Scout snarled, throwing the box on the bed and reaching for the picture again. “Give me that, you have no right—”
Spy swiftly grabbed Scout’s wrist and twisted it away, making the boy wince in pain. “I have every right,” Spy growled, glaring at the other dangerously. “And, if you know what is good for you, mon fils, you will not try to take that picture from me. Put on the suit.”
He released the wrist, and its owner cradled it. “Sheesh, it’s my own mother, Spy, I should at least have some say in it!”
“Lorsque vous êtes plus âgé, vous comprendrez,” Spy said. “Now put on the suit, and I will tell you what Medic meant.”
Scout scowled but opened the box anyway. “Y’know I really hate it when you talk French, cuz I can’t understand a word you—whoa.”
Spy smirked as Scout unfolded the suit, staring at it reverently. “Spy, this is—this is old. Like, generations or something. You sure you want me to wear this?”
“Oui. It does not fit me anymore, and I can think of no other person who should have it.” Spy smirked behind his fingers as Scout held the suit up gently.
“Yeah, but—shouldn’t you save it for, I dunno, your own son?” Scout questioned, but still clearly pleased that Spy had chosen him.
“J'ai déjà donné à lui,” Spy said. “Il tient en ce moment.”
Scout rolled his eyes. “Again with the French…” He shook his head. “Whatever. Give me a sec to try it on, would yah?”
Spy exited his room, shutting the door behind him and lighting a fresh cigarette. He was extremely glad Scout couldn’t understand French—otherwise it would make it extremely awkward between the two men.
A couple minutes later and Scout opened the door, a broad smile on his face. “It fits perfectly!” he said, spinning around to show the older man. “I look good, don’t I?”
“Oui, petit, you do the suit justice,” Spy said, putting a hand on the other man’s shoulder to make him hold still. “But there is one small problem—where is the tie?”
Scout blushed a little. “I couldn’t figure out how to tie it,” he said. “I figured I don’t really need it, though.”
“Nonsense,” Spy said, pushing the boy back into his room and snatching the tie up from the bed. “Come here, I will show you how to tie it.”
Scout reluctantly let Spy show him how to fix the tie properly around his neck without choking him. “There, it is simple, non?”
“If you say so,” Scout said, playing with the knot a bit. He looked up at Spy. “So what did Medic mean?”
Spy groaned. “Merde, I thought you had forgotten about that.”
Scout grinned. “Nope. We had a deal, Spy—I tried on the suit, now you tell me what the doc meant.”
Spy took a deep drag of his cigarette to calm his nerves. “He meant that you were one of my three to wrangle into a suit. The doctor and I divided the team up between ourselves to convince the rest of you to dress up properly for tonight. I drew the short straw and got you.”
Scout’s face fell. “That’s it?”
Spy resisted the urge to feel sympathy for the boy. “Oui, petit, you were expecting something else?”
“Eh, not really…” Scout’s eyes gave him away, though. Spy could see exactly what the young man had been hoping for.
Spy clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Come, let us see if your new suit will better your chances with Miss Pauling, oui?”
Scout’s face brightened at the mention of his crush. “Yeah! I’ll be a real lady killer tonight!” He rushed out of the room, followed by a slower, chuckling Spy.
“Mon garçon, en effet,” he murmured. “My boy, indeed.”
