Dear groottoot, your Freedom Fries art truly launched me on this ship, and when I got your name in the TF2 Secret Santa exchange I fell over, I was SO HAPPY. This isn't exactly your prompt, but truth be told, I have fics started for at least three of those. I wanted to give you something on Christmas, so here, a fic for your adorable art <3
Middle of Nowhere and a Dusty Shack | On AO3
"Stay here."
"Stay here? And allow you to sneak off and get the drop on me outside of Respawn? I think not."
The enemy Soldier puffed up. "I do not sneak! If I decide to take you down you will hear me coming, that is a promise, now stay here, Francis! Your fancy-pants shoes are no match for four feet of snow!" Before Spy could object again, Soldier turned and tromped off into the woods. The twilight closed slowly over the bright red uniform, a contrast to Spy's near-invisibility.
Clearly there was no point in arguing with him. Why argue with a madman? Plus he was gone already, with only a distant crunching to mark where he might be beneath the trees. Spy huffed and leaned against the side of the shack, which creaked alarmingly. He rolled his eyes and stood straight, pulled out a cigarette and lit it, and stepped gingerly over the threshold. Snow had blown in through the empty doorway. Beyond it the floor was covered in damp leaves and broken glass, fallen from the windows at some point. There was a ring of stones set into the floor, with a few charred remnants of a fire long past.
There was a chair. It did not look reliable. Spy brushed it off and sat carefully. It creaked, but it held. He sat and smoked and waited for the enemy to return.
The windows did nothing to protect against the wind, but when the damp wood caught and began pouring out smoke, Spy was grateful for the air currents that carried the clouds up and away and out. The cold was no longer a concern; only six feet of space remained between himself and the Soldier, sprawled against the opposite wall with no concern for leaves or glass. The fire between them burned smokily but steadily and eventually Spy felt himself begin to thaw.
"Thank you," he said nearly an hour later, when the Soldier had tossed another log onto the fire. He had propped several of them against the wall, letting the fire dry them out, and the smoke had all but dissipated now. The shack was warm enough that Spy no longer felt the absence of his scarf, trodden by now into a puddle somewhere just outside the base.
"There is no need to thank me, Francis."
Spy lit a cigarette and propped his head in his hand and stared in frustration across the small cabin. Soldier appeared to take no notice of the sudden attention. "Why not? This violates the terms of your contract. Both our contracts," he added. "Preservation of a member of the opposite team? It is unheard of."
Soldier did not stir. "There is nothing nailing you to your seat. If you wish to take your chances outside, be my guest."
Spy glanced at the door and the darkness beyond. In the yellow light from the fire, he could just barely make out the shapes of trees, former landmarks blasted into obscurity by this blanket of snow. "Merci non. As I said, I am grateful not to be lying dead somewhere. Especially this far outside the boundaries of Respawn."
"Why did you follow me?"
It was the first question asked in nearly an hour, and the suddenness of it startled Spy into dropping his cigarette lighter from gloved fingers. "Quoi?"
Soldier was watching him. From beneath the edge of his helmet. Spy could see his eyes, pale blue, paler than expected, perhaps more gray than blue, but cool. "I will not repeat the question, Francis."
Spy scowled at the nickname--or perhaps the man thought that was his name. "I am not in the habit of allowing the enemy to sneak--yes, sneak--away from the battle without knowing why," he said. "I am a Spy; it is my job to know."
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"Why?"
Spy shrugged, one-shouldered, awkward, uncomfortable. The heat from the fire on his front and the cold from the open window at his back were combining to make him jittery. "I do not know. Perhaps you could tell me."
"I am not in the habit of sharing secrets with the enemy!"
Spy felt like throwing his lighter. He refrained. "Fine, do not tell me why you felt the need to creep into the woods during a pitched battle."
"The battle was over!"
"Fine, do not tell me why you felt the need to creep into the woods after the cease-fire!"
"I will not tell you!"
"I do not want you to tell me now!"
"You are a disgrace to the profession of Spy!"
The fire was between them. Spy could not reach him to kick without getting up. "How dare you."
Soldier jabbed a finger at him. "If this is the first time you noticed, you are terrible at spying."
Spy was surprised, despite himself. "What do you mean, the first time?"
"Francis, I have been coming out here, or out somewhere, on every base we've visited in the past three years."
"...what? No, you have not. You are lying to me. You are doing a terrible job of it." It did not feel like a lie. Nothing Soldier said felt like a lie, in fact. Spy had observed that, in the past three years; the RED Soldier had not an ounce of guile in him.
Soldier knew it. The grin spread its wings beneath the edge of the helmet. He did not answer, only dropped the helmet back over his eyes. His limbs relaxed a few minutes later. He was asleep. Asleep in the presence of an enemy. Spy could kill him now without an ounce of trouble.
Spy woke. His neck hurt. His arm hurt from where he had been propping up his chin for, it seemed, several years. His legs hurt from being crossed for so long. He had fallen asleep watching the Soldier sleeping. The fire had died down to embers, though there were several logs still ready to be added, and the chill had settled in to the cabin. Soldier was curled on his side now, back to the fire.
Spy bit back a curse as he moved, stood, stretched, then knelt beside the fire ring and reached for a log. He had some small flames licking around the bottom, beginning to kick off some heat, when the Soldier woke with a shout. He reached for a weapon that was not there, knocking his helmet off entirely. It fell into the snow from the doorway as they stared at each other across the dim fire. After a moment, Spy reached forward, slowly, not taking his eyes from the wild stare, and picked it up. He brushed a bit of snow off it and held it out silently.
After a moment Soldier took it. Having the helmet back in his hands seemed to bring focus back to his face and he looked down at the fire, proceeding well now that it had dry wood to devour. "Huh. Looks like you're not completely useless out here."
"Oh, merci, it is too kind, no, please, you will make me blush." Spy concealed his eyeroll in lighting another cigarette. Soldier held out a hand. After a moment, Spy handed the lit cigarette over. Soldier took a long drag and held it out, but Spy was already plucking another from his case. "Keep it. You have none of your noxious cigars?"
"At base. Don't bring 'em out here."
"Hm." Spy lit his and sat back, still on the ground, close to the fire to tend it. It was his fire now, after all. "You do this at every base, you say? Why?"
Soldier was silent for so long, Spy assumed he would not receive an answer. "Gets me out," he said. "Reminds me of Europe, a lot of these places. Not the desert bases, there's nowhere in Europe like a good American desert, but here, with these trees, and the snow, it's like--"
"Like?" Spy prompted, fascinated at this sudden insight into a man best known to him for traveling by blowing his own feet off.
Soldier finished his cigarette and tossed the butt into the fire before answering. "Poland."
"You have been to Poland?"
"Best Nazi hunts of the war in Poland."
"Ah, yes, I see. You were there in, what? 1944? 45?"
"After."
After? "The war ended in 1945, if I recall correctly," Spy ventured. "I was young at the time, but I am fairly certain I remember that."
"The politics said the war ended, but that didn't mean there wasn't still some serious cleaning up to do!"
"Oui, certainly. What a good thing you were available."
Soldier did not answer. Spy surreptitiously gathered his cigarette butts from beneath the spindly chair and tossed them into the fire, one by one. They flared and died, leaving little smudges of black against the white ash. "What will we do tomorrow?"
"Get back early. We leave at first light."
Spy did not ask what would happen after. At least they would be within the bounds of Respawn before they would be forced to end this bizarre, peaceful truce. He allowed himself to think what a shame it would be, for a few moments, before he pulled himself together. "Fine. Good."
Soldier stirred again when the sky was robin's egg blue and glowing with the promise of a glorious sunrise. Spy watched as he filled his hands with snow and dumped it on the fire, then rose and stirred the snow into the dying embers, spreading it as Soldier dumped in another handful. He ignored the ash that clung to his shoes.
Once the fire was sufficiently covered, Soldier straightened. "Move out," he said shortly. Spy trailed him, hands in his pockets, as the sun began to slant through the branches. He stepped where Soldier stepped, attempting to leave no trace, more for something to do than because he worried about leaving traces here. It was something to occupy his mind.
Soldier came to an abrupt halt at the half-collapsed wood and chicken-wire fence that marked the border of Coldfront. "Your base is that way," he said, pointing at the snow-covered path.
"Yes, I am aware." Spy reached for his watch and froze as Soldier's hand closed over his hand, covering his wrist completely.
"You are..."
"Oui? I am?"
It took a moment. "You are restful company."
"...I am?"
"I am not in the habit of repeating myself, Francis."
"No, no, of course not." Spy fumbled for a reply that would sound somewhat put together. He failed. They stood, joined, in the last of the forest's shadow. "Well. Perhaps I will join you again. If it is somewhere warmer."
"If your sneaking skills are up to finding me."
Spy allowed himself a half-smile. "Make it a challenge and I will consider it."
"You have a deal." Soldier took his hand off Spy's, only to offer it for a handshake. Spy glanced around, feeling suddenly hunted, feeling watched, feeling the space itch between his shoulder blades, but when he looked back, Soldier was watching him again. It still took a wary moment, but Spy reached out and clasped his hand.
