Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't.
Cheers.
EDIT: Now updated with proper formatting (or as close as I could manage).
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"Merde," he growled, tossing his pillow down roughly atop his bed and turning around with a scowl. Where the hell could they be?! Deft fingers again searched his suit pockets, narrow eyes cutting around the room distastefully as his search turned up absolutely nothing. He'd lost his cigarettes -- an entire pack!
The room, now a mess due to his angered fervor, hardly resembled that of the clean-cut Spy. Red team, unsung veteran -- A powerful ally, not that the rest of the team seemed to care.. They had other spies, other men; Heavies and Soldiers and Engineers..
"Bah!" He sunk down onto his bed, gloved hands curling around the edge of the mattress before beginning to wring around one another. It'd been over half a day since his last smoke. Since before today's battle in fact! His lighter had been found with ease, kept right inside his breast pocket as usual and.. alone without the presence of his beloved smoke sticks. A forlorn look on his face, he tried to fight off the twitchy uncertainty of withdrawal that came with his inevitable addiction.
KNOCK KNOCKA KNOCK.
A knock and whistle from out in the hall? Startled, the Spy shot to his feet, narrowly missing whacking his head on a shelf above him in his hurry to stand. Scowling, he stalked over to the door and tossed open the eye slot he'd had installed out of (practical) Spy paranoia. "Yes. What do you want," he spat tersely.
"Touchy li'le wanker, ain't yeh?" It was the Sniper; his drawl was almost unmistakable. But still, the Spy stood there, staring at the man through that slot and awaiting an answer. "Open up, would ya? I've got a present for you."
One of the man's slender brows arched, a gloved hand flicking the slot closed as he pondered the meaning of those words. Hah.. A present for a Spy? He glanced at the calendar. No way anyone would have been able to guess his birthday, that was classified information! Besides, who would want to? Come to think of it, he'd never even met this Sniper had he? Seen him around the base perhaps but..
Oh right, the door.
A few clicks later and it swung open, the lanky Aussie standing back in his usual relaxed fashion with a smug smirk on his face. The Spy didn't particularly like it but had little time to comment before a small silver rectangle was thrust up in front of his nose and wagged. His cigarette case!
"Merry Christmas, ya throat cuttin' wanker. Saw you drop these today, thought you might miss 'em." The Sniper's grey eyes glanced past the Frenchman, taking in the mess..
The Spy simply stared for a few moments before blinking and taking the carton. He then noted the Sniper's distant gaze, clearing his throat in a nervous attempt to distract him, "Ah, yes.. spring cleaning." He lifted the cigs a bit, "Zhank you."
"Hm? Well alright then, if you say so. I best be off," the Sniper said as he lifted a hand and jerked his thumb up the hall, "Medic's saying we all need flu shots. Dunno about you, but gettin' sick's not on my to do list. Carry on then."
And off he went. The Spy watched after him, observing the awkward yet confidant way in which the Sniper stepped and then peering at the cigarettes in his hand. He blinked a few times at them, stepping back into his room and locking the door. It wasn't until he passed his mirror that he realized he was smiling. No, not smirking, not simpering, smiling!
It.. felt good.