A/N: Something short I wrote awhile ago that I've been hesitating to publish, but now decided that I liked it enough to do so.
The BLU Scout didn't notice when his RED counterpart swung his bat and hit his head.
He didn't notice when his body was carried to a deserted stairwell, far away from the bloodshed outside.
He didn't notice when his counterpart landed a kiss on his lips while the others were fighting mercilessly on the battlefield.
Of course he didn't, he was out cold.
He woke up in respawn minutes later, with a sore at the back of his head and a strange sensation on his lips.
He didn't remember anything, but the RED scout did.
The RED scout wasn't particularly sure what he was thinking back there; it struck him as ingenious at first (like all his other ideas) but quickly fizzled into something awkward and even slightly disturbing.
Kissin' him while he's knocked out? What were you thinking?
The RED scout lay wearily on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The clock on his bedside table read 2.16AM.
Everyone was asleep- everyone but the RED scout. It had been hours after the incident, but he couldn't take his mind off of it.
Or him.
He remembered holding the BLU scout right after that, before the RED Medic found them and finished him off. It would have been tragic- traumatic, even- if he hadn't been so desensitized to death already.
He managed to play it off as him checking his pulse; the Medic wasn't one to prod, and that was more than alright for the RED Scout.
Of course, he wasn't checking anyone's pulse.
He didn't understand why he liked the BLU Bostonian so much. Hell, weren't they supposed to be copies of each other?
That was what I thought.
That was what he thought before last week, when his BLU counterpart pinned him against the floor triumphantly just as the RED was about to reach for the intelligence. He struggled beneath his weight before managing to push the BLU off, reversing their positions as he held the other boy's hands down with his own. (They felt soft, he thought) With his free hand, He reached swiftly for his handgun, placed the barrel near the BLU's forehead and put his finger on the trigger.
Then he paused.
In that split second, their eyes locked. He took in the contours of his face and the build of his body before he finally realised something: They were far from similar.
He noticed the light sprinkle of freckles on the bridge of his nose, the greenish tint of his eyes, the brighter shade of brown in his hair and the angle of his jaw; the leanness of his arms and the broadness of his shoulders compared to his waist. He noticed the subtle differences that set the BLU apart from himself.
And at that moment, he thought he was beautiful.
Then he got his head bashed in and shot with a pistol.
He woke up in respawn still dazed from the incident, and from that day onwards he knew he was hooked.
He still remembered the following night, when his shirt was dampened with the perspiration of desperate lust, and how his body jerked and shivered shamefully. His hand moved in rhythmic succession as he fantasized about caressing every inch of his skin, tracing the scattered freckles with the tip of his fingers and kissing his lips while he held him close.
It was today that he decided to act on that impulse, but it turned out to be more awkward than he expected.
He wished for another chance -to touch him just one more time.
I wonder if you feel the same way.
The RED scout turned on his side and faced the wall, slightly embarrassed by the recollection.
The clock beside him read 2.42AM.
There was more than enough time for him to fall asleep, but he knew he couldn't. The darkness would have been comforting if it weren't for the frantic thoughts that filled his mind.
Of course, in the pitch-black darkness of the night, he couldn't have noticed.
He couldn't have noticed the footsteps that sounded lightly across the hallway.
He couldn't have noticed the door to his dorm opening and closing, as someone slipped in quietly.
He felt a familiar hand graze the nape of his neck.
It was too familiar to mistake it for someone else's.
He relaxed, and allowed it to trail across his back as a lithe body pressed against his...