Downtime was a a rare yet precious commodity for you. In the brief lapses of peace when it was possible to get away from everything, the forest surrounding base camp was an ideal retreat. Sometimes, it was good to separate yourself from the constant banter between your fellow operatives, and clear your head of their chattering - God knows they did enough of it on missions.

Some days, you weren't alone in your thought process. As you would hike through the forest, indents in the dead leaves showed footprints of others who had wandered among the trees before you. You kept silent, instinctive records on the patterns of such prints. So far, there were only a handful of recurring boot marks - the most recurring of all being from one very reclusive sniper.

You're slightly embarrassed that you shadow him, at times, on your walks through the forest. Glaz was always a source of curiosity to you - in a band of rowdy men, he was always in the background, a quiet and sincere voice of reason. And when he was alone? Well. You'd never spoken to him alone. It always seemed like an invasion of privacy to you, and the Russian had never extended any sort of invitation to join him on his walks. Sure, it might have bothered you a little, but a man's gotta have his privacy. Okay - maybe it was slightly bothersome. But that's besides the point.

You had been trying to gather the courage to do this for a while. Multiple times you had stood from afar, trying to gather some sort of idea of how to start a conversation with him, somehow warm up to the guy a little, but by sunset you had always returned to base feeling a strange sort of defeat. Frustration with yourself grew. Today, however, you vowed to finally confront him.

Picking your way through the twigs and undergrowth along the grassy floor, your heart beating a bit too fast for your comfort, you went over what to say to Glaz. A chitchat about how the previous mission went wouldn't hurt. Maybe talk to him about the scenery? Kapkan had told you that Glaz was an artist. What kind of art did he make? Hell, you didn't even know any Russian artists. Was he a fan of Rembrandt? Closing your eyes, you pause against the trunk of a birch tree, inhaling deeply.

Calm down, Y/N. Breathe. Glaz is a nice guy. He'll understand.

When you opened your eyes again, you noticed that during your internal rant you'd neared your destination. Several meters ahead was the shore to a large pond, teeming with waterlilies and the loud chirps of spring peepers. Dead trees sat half-submerged in the water. There was an odd beauty to the scenery - perhaps it was the fact that Glaz stood in front of it all, his silhouette backlit by the setting sun. He was a couple feet back from the pond's edge, motionless, and you found that every step towards him solidified your confidence.

You made sure not to sneak up on him (he was a skilled operative, after all) and instead made yourself known by the sound of your footsteps. Glaz turned his head slightly - his attention still on the landscape before him, yet acknowledging your presence. As you went to stand beside him, words finally began to form.

"Nice to see that I'm not alone in these woods, Glazkow." Your heart lifted at the confidence in your voice. Maybe this wouldn't be a disaster after all.

The sniper nodded, and when you glanced over, you saw that his face had been scrubbed of its normal camouflage paint, yet the rest of him seemed to be the same. Still wore all his combat gear - even down to the handgun resting at his hip. That was a source of amusement. You gestured at his sidearm.

"You're packing some heat. Planning to skeet-shoot some bullfrogs?"

Glaz's chuckle caught you by surprise. You'd never heard him laugh before. It was pleasant, warm. As soon as it had faded, you felt a sudden longing to hear it again.

"No," the sniper replied after a moment. He looked to the side, gazing out at the pond lilies. "I just like the protection. It makes me feel safe."

For a while, neither of you spoke - it was loud enough by the pond, and for a moment, you really do consider shooting a frog just to get them to shut up. Luckily, it wasn't deafening as it had been yesterday, and you could still talk with Glaz normally.

"So, you uh, paint?" You asked.

"Da. Acrylics, oil. Mostly landscape. Sometimes animals."

"No military stuff, then?"

Glaz shrugged. "I get enough of that. Why paint war when I've already experienced it?"

You thought for a moment. In a way, you understood that. War was not glorious. It was a necessary evil, not some pretty picture. This wasn't your first conversation with Glazkow - hell, you ran missions with him all the time - but you had never been so personal with him. Luckily, he seemed to be taking it well.

Taking a step forward, closer to the waterline, you pointed at the wetlands. "What do you see when you look at this pond, then? There's gotta be something about it that's portrait-worthy."

"Hm. Color is very vivid. Trees have nice form. The reflection of the sun against the water presents an interesting angle. What else..." Glaz turned, surveying the horizon, and finally his eyes met yours.

"Other components to the picture are quite beautiful," he managed to say, his tone somewhat shy. It takes a moment for you to realize what he is referencing.

Glaz's behavior suddenly made sense. The nervous laughter, the aversion to meet your eyes, the openness of his words...

Oh. You rose your eyebrows, suddenly feeling dizzy. Even though it's obvious, you echo, "Me?" Before placing a hand to your own chest, as if flattered. As it turned out, you weren't the only one who had been nervous to start a conversation.

Glaz nodded. The sky had begun to darken, and the air was cooling down. Both of you had been thrown in shadow, but you could still make out the telltale signs of embarrassment on Glaz's face. You're more shocked than anything. Had it really been that obvious? Your observations, that look of longing whenever you glanced in his direction? And, more importantly: had he looked at you that way, too?

You're not sure what else to say, so instead you tentatively held out your hand. He gratefully accepted. After a second, he laughed again, silently, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry. I'm not all that sure how to go about this."

You tugged him a bit closer. Was he really this awkward around all women? Well, he acted just fine around IQ and the other female operatives. A strange triumph washed over you. Maybe you were the only one who made him this nervous - and in a way, it felt nice. Somebody caring about you, feeling for you... "Just go for it, Glaz."

Glaz wavered. In the growing darkness, his eyes gleamed with quiet intelligence, and he gently pressed up against you. It was getting harder to see, but you definitely felt his body warmth, the brush of fingers to your waist. And then he paused, and glanced up, locking his gaze with yours. A question of affirmation. A request to continue.

You slipped your hand to his back and gave him a firm nod. Yes.

The frogs had quieted down - everything had seemed to drop off the face of the Earth as Glaz took his time in teasing you. He was meticulous and patient, idly tracing the small of your spine while his other hand untangled from yours and made its way down to your inner thigh. You tensed at that - mostly from anticipation - but then his touch was gone, exploring another curve of your body. How could this bastard be so good at this, but not just talking to a girl? You guided his hand back towards the inner thigh, but he once again retreated.

"Not out here," he murmured.

You sighed. "Please. Where else are we going to do it - HQ?"

He seemed to fight himself over it for a second, then shook his head, murmured something distinctly Russian under his breath, and pulled you closer. Your back was against smooth tree bark, arms wrapped tight around Glaz. All the while, he whispered reassurances, chest pressed against yours, legs lifted against his waist. The nervousness in your gut, the insecurities that you had felt up to this moment - they all washed away into the forest's dying light.

A noise at the far side of the pond startled you out of your reverie. Glaz, hearing it as well, suddenly removed his hands from your sides, stepping back to gaze out at the opposite shore. For a heartbeat, neither of you said anything. He shaded his eyes, squinting. Was it another operator? It was hard to see anything in the dark. After several moments, however, Glaz identified the culprit, pointing towards a patch of dark in the water.

"Marsh deer," He muttered. "Nothing to be worried about."

You have to strain your vision to make out what he's pointing at, and even then, the thin silhouette of the buck's antlers is hard to recognize. You shook your head. "How the hell did you spot that so quick?"

Another noncommittal shrug. "Sniper's finesse."

You rolled your eyes, even though he was still looking out at the pond. "Sure. Well, at least it isn't the other Buck," you said, referencing the Canadian operator.

"Or Bandit," Glaz replied.

"Oh. Yeah, he'd do something like that." You watched as the deer waded through the pond, lowering its head to nibble at the grassroots. "I'd have to chase him down, and honestly, I really don't feel like running today."

The sniper looked over at you and winked, patting at his sidearm. "Wouldn't have to."

There was laughter from both of you as Glaz walked over to the edge of the water, as if to get a better look at the deer. It had been frightened by the noise and retreated back to the shore, staring outwards with curious eyes. He finally spoke, sincerity in his voice. "Perhaps," he began, "we should visit the woods more often. Together."

You smiled. "And do what? Paint a picture?" Glaz laughed again, the sound music to your ears. In some way, it felt nice that you could make him happy. He always seemed so tense at base - all of you were, really. Turning around, Glazkow started uphill, waiting for you to follow him back to camp. He extended his hand, and - without hesitation - you took it.

"Yeah," he said. "something like that."