Rating: 12+, for Scout's language & period casual homophobia.
Disclaimer: Malheureusment, I do not own Team Fortress 2 or its characters. Valve does. I only own these rather appalling attempts at phonetic accents and my own headcanons over team interactions.
A/N: WIP, but I currently have four chapters typed out and more written.
1. Dogs & Vans
It was a calm morning in Teufort, so early that dawn was only just breaking on the distant horizon. It was not a view which could normally be savoured, since one or other of the teams' snipers would be up on the rooftops taking potshots at anyone stupid enough to be standing around- on their own teams, even, if the coffee had run out- but it was beautiful nonetheless.
The calm was broken by the usual culprit.
"Yo, Snipes!" Scout hammered on the van's passenger door some more, causing the van to bounce slightly. "You said you were going to teach me how Australians deal with bush vampires or whatever other sh*t we're facing to today, like, an hour ago. Man, you're supposed to be up and killing BLUs by now. Truckie's gonna be so pissed. I know you're in there! You weren't anywhere up on the base and you left the f*cking blinds shut."
Silence tricked back across the landscape as the scout waited triumphantly for Sniper to give in and allow him his victory.
Instead, all he got was a tin-muffled whine.
"What the hell, Snipes?" Scout paused, tilting his hat up to rub his forehead in thought. "When did you get a dog?"
Scout heard the sound of a loud crash up the front of the van, and the whole van chassis rocked. He quick-footed to the cab, peering in, but still couldn't see anything.
"Yo, Snipes?" he repeated uneasily. "Y'alright, mate? I swear if you tripped over your own f*king new dog rushing to teach me sh*t then you're more stupid than Spy says 'cause I don't actually need these lessons, or anything-"
He jumped back, arms pinwheeling as something heavy slammed into the van's side-door and almost taking a faceful of desert dust.
"Not cool," he grunted. "But, hey, man, if you're gonna set the dog on me, might want to open de door first, chucklenuts."
After a moment's consideration, Scout scampered back slightly and climbed onto an overturned milk-vat. Not because he was scared, but because none of the old fags on his team had a sense of humour, and had a nasty habit of taking his suggestions at face value.
"Well?" he taunted, standing with his ankles braced around the solid, reassuring metal of the vat's lid. "Too nancy to face me?"
There was an urgent yelp from inside the van.
Scout crossed his arms, rocking on the heavy metal. "Fine," he huffed, gaze going back to the main base. "Be like that. I'll just deal with the vampires all on my f*cking own. Like I can. Right."
He fled, kicking up the dust in a striking zig-zag trail across the ground back towards the warm-toned base.
He was too annoyed at the RED Sniper to notice that no bullets traced his wake. From either side.