Hallelujah
Rating: G
Words:2,000
Pairing: Demoman/Sniper
A/N: Saw the prompt, “Imagine your OTP+ doing a duet/group version of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah.” I’ve been in a bit of a creative dry-spell so I gave it a go. Instead of my OTP, I did my OTP2 ‘cuz I haven’t shown Sword Van/Piss Drunk/whatever-we’re-bloody-calling-DemomanxSniper enough loving.
Here’s the link to the prompt (x) and here’s a link to the song (x). The last two verses are different than the version you probably know from Shrek (have a link to the Shrek version anyways). And I might have altered the lyrics a tad to fit a bit better. By the way, Hallelujah was released in 1984 and Team Fortress 2 is set in the late 60s/early 70s. I’m glossing over that fact for sake of writing exercise.
If you wanna read, click on that there “keep reading!”
A relationship was something Mick Mundy never say in his deck cards. As a hunter and assassin, the sniper knew his life was best spent alone. There was peace in his solitude and comfort in the knowledge that he was the only person in the world who had his best interest at heart. Any nights with another between sheets was just a burst of lustful need, always resulting in him sleeping outside his camper and dropping off his one night stand in the nearest town. The faint idea to keep that person was always brushed off by his reality: he didn’t need a companion. The heat of another human body couldn’t compare to the thrill of survival and the challenge of taking another life with a single bullet. All another could do was to bring unwanted obligations. In all senses, whatever was entailed with having a lover couldn’t fit within his world.
Not once in his adult life did Mick consider looking for a significant other, especially when he was employed by Reliable Excavation Demolitions to be Sniper in their seemingly endless Gravel War. The closest he thought he wanted was the friendship of his fellow mercenary, Tavish DeGroot. The others on RED saw their Demoman and Tavish as one in the same but Mick saw two different Scotsmen. Demoman resided on the battlefield who’s mad fury was only aided by the alcohol that he eagerly consumed as bullets attempted to take his life. Tavish thrived at home or in Mick’s company as a smart, polite yet delightfully crass and adventurous man. While Demoman was useful, Tavish was the one that Mick was drawn to. To Mick’s surprise, he would find himself Tavish’s company more than he would find himself alone. But it was nice to have a friend, Mick had to admit.
Then Tavish kissed him on the lips. Mick kissed him back.
Mick never forgot the delightful burst within his soul anytime those smooth lips coursed over his for the first time. All it took was one night. One night for his mind in such a confused bliss that he wonder if he wanted more. There were more nights he wondered what he wanted, lying awake with Tavish curled beside him on a bed.
Then Tavish asked, “will you be my boyfriend?” Mick thoughtlessly said, “yes.”
There was no logical answer to if he wanted to keep someone for the rest of his life. No clear understanding how it could alter his reality. Over time, he realized that solitude’s comfort was replaced with Tavish strong arms around him. He mourned the loss of his loneliness yet those arms natural strength filling his heart with a strange warmth that only made him want more. It was always strange to wake up beside someone, but with Tavish, he decided it was a nice sort of strange. Whenever an enemy or idiot in town threatened his happiness, Tavish was there to help put an end to them. And even though he did try, Mick didn’t know how to quite express his feelings. He knew how to hold Tavish’s hand, how to kill anyone that threatened his life, but he didn’t know quite how to put all his soul experienced with him. Hell, he didn’t even understand what this thing was that Tavish made him feel. But Tavish seemed to understand for him. And it was fine.
Then Tavish said, “I love you.” All Mick could do was smile.
Every time Tavish said those three words. Tried as he might, Mick couldn’t repeat them despite their seeming simplicity. Those three words were earth-shattering. It was on a rare night lying in bed alone, wanting Tavish, that he realized it. Those words were why he could hardly bare his own company anymore. That L word was why he couldn’t focus on the battlefield when he saw Demoman take a hit. Any pain that man felt was a bit of Mick’s professionalism that evaporated into the battlefield. Head-shots missed in worry that Demoman’s life had been lost. Something a sniper should never let happen for anyone. And, from what he noticed, Demoman’s focus on missions rapidly decreased when his nest came under fire. There was little doubt that Tavish dreamed of him on lonely nights, too. All because Tavish said it. The tragedy was real: they were becoming weaker being together, thinking of that emotion. Together felt good but, if this ‘love’, if it was that, caused their hearts to panic, to hurt, to be unhappy, to be stupid with the threat of the other being harmed. Love could only be a toxic force in the end. If Mick said those three words, even once, everything bit of strength they had left would surely disappear. He always reminded himself of that when Tavish spoke like they would be together until the end of time. Tavish was a beautiful temptation he couldn’t keep him for long. It wasn’t part of the life he came to knew. It wasn’t a smart life to lead as an assassin. He had to be alone. When the Gravel War ended, Mick drove to Tavish’s house. When Tavish came to Mick’s camper, Mick didn’t get out. He only rolled down his window to say that he was off to Australia.
Tavish said, “I understand you have family, boy-o, but stay with me. Please. I love you.” Mick reached out, allowing his fingertips to follow the Scotsman’s strong jawbone, before driving away.
All would be alright in Australia. Mick told himself that repeatedly on his long journey home. But that strange feeling didn’t stop when he returned. He could see Tavish’s face. Hear that lovely voice in his ears. Feel Tavish over his skin. He still wanted it. And Mick hated that he still wanted it. No matter how he would remind himself that he was meant to be alone, it wouldn’t stop. No logic could end it, no words of his wisdom could cease the memory of Tavish. Only time seemed to be a decent remedy. It also helped that, after the death of his mother and father, he learned he was adopted. Desperation to meet his original parents swept over all other thoughts. But all that strange wanting for Tavish would still him when he least expected it. His only defense being the idea that Tavish had moved on.
Six months later, Miss Pauling came to his house, offering to help him find his birth parents. At Miss Pauling’s side was Tavish. Mick’s heart beat uncontrollably at the sight of that man, not knowing what he wanted to say or what to expect. To some relief though, Tavish did seem to have moved on. No words were exchanged other than details of the mission, no more eye contact than a side glance, no a touch of a hand. It was all that Mick knew he needed and yet, it wasn’t what he wanted. Those feelings were pushed to the side. He had his mission.
Finding his parents was easy enough. With most of his old team, they traveled to the bottom of the sea to New Zealand, where his parents lived alone. Just after he met them, his mother fled away in a spaceship and his father hijacked their submarine. The door opened. He turned, hoping to see his father returning, only to be shot twice in the torso by a new enemy. In a matter of seconds, his world faded to black. How long Mick was in the darkness, he wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure if he was alive, wasn’t sure if he was dead, wasn’t sure how long he would remain in the nothing. All he knew was that there were only his thoughts. How he missed his adopted parents. How they were loving and seemingly more genuine than the ones he had recently met.
Eventually, his mind drifted towards Tavish. What a handsome man Tavish was, in every sense of the word. He didn’t want to but he missed the touch of his skin and those nights with him. What if he was wrong for leaving? What if it what he needed was Tavish? How could that have mattered? Tavish probably didn’t love him anymore. Why would Tavish still love him? After how he left without being able to say…well…did he really…
All of a sudden, Mick heard Tavish’s voice, clear and crisp in the empty void, singing with a sorrowful voice.
I’ve heard that there’s a secret chord that David played and it pleased the lord, but you don’t care for music, do you? It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall ,the major lift, the baffled king composing, “hallelujah.” Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah.
Your faith was strong but you needed proof. You saw him bathing on the roof. His beauty and the moonlight overthrew you. Then he tied you to a kitchen chair, he broke your throne, he cut your hair, and from your baffled lips, he drew the hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah.
So much truth rang in those lyrics. Was Tavish singing about how he felt? Or was Tavish singing about himself? Did it really matter? As far as Mick could gather, it didn’t. Perhaps it was because he knew it was that Mick sang the next verse.
You say I took the name in vain. I didn’t even know the name, If I did, but really, what’s it to you? There’s a blaze of light in every word, it doesn’t matter which you heard: the holy or the broken hallelujah
Faint laughter rattled in the darkness. “Oh, mate,” Mick said, “I’m sorry.” Though he doubted his words would ever reach beyond the endless space to his old lover, he spoke them anyways. Besides, when there was nothing around, there was nothing to do other than reflect. “Might have been too afraid to let meself know what I wanted. Bloody hell, being honest, I, I never really knew what all you made me feel. Didn’t really know what it was but it, it was better than I thought a bloke could make me feel.” He paused. “Perhaps it was love. Never remembered feeling it before. Would explain why I still hurt so much without you. From what I hear, pain is a symptom of love. Happens when you’re alone. All I know is that it made me less of a good Sniper and didn’t think I needed it. But maybe I did.” Again, he paused, hoping that once he escaped his wall-less prison, he could tell Tavish himself. By then, maybe he could pinpoint what he exactly wanted to say. For now, the nothing was good practice. “I think, no, I know that I love you. Should have told you at least once. I bloody tried. Believe me, I did. The words never could escape me tongue. If I only I had realized... if only I could, ah, mate, I love you.” A soft, familiar touch crept over the back of his hand.
“Mick?”
Slowly, he opened his eyes. The first thing he saw among the bright lights was Tavish. Where he was didn’t matter. All that mattered was who was at his side. “Tavish,” Mick said, his voice faint. “Did you-“
“Aye,” Tavish replied, “barely, but I heard you.” Slowly, his fingertips slipped to wrap around Mick’s hand. “And I know what you tried to say back then. I only doubted when you nearly ran over me toes to go back to Australia. Me heart began aching when you left and it’s yet to stop. If pain’s a symptom of love, boy-o, I’m still sick with it.”
There was little strength in Mick’s body but he managed to lift the Scotsman’s hand to his cheek. Taking a deep breath, Mick sang:
I did my best, it wasn’t much. I couldn’t feel so I tried to touch. I honestly didn’t mean to fool you. And even though it all went wrong, I’ll stand before the lord of song with nothing on my tongue but, “hallelujah!”
Water formed in Mick’s eyes as he pressed Tavish’s hand against his lips. It flowed in a small stream down his face, flowing onto his fingers, swept away by a gentle touch. Looking up, he saw Tavish leaning in, gazing into him with a red eye. Mick dropped their hands to his heart.
Against his lips, he could feel Tavish breathe, “hallelujah.” Mick tilted his head ever so slightly to receive the tender kiss he had denied his being to crave for too long.
A/N: I did this in one long sitting. Hope it’s at least decent.
