This story was inspired by a deviation ("Sniper and Spy - Fifty Themes") by ~indyrabbit.
It is not meant to be good. It was more of a way to vent my frustrations. In any case, I hope you enjoy it at least a little bit.
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Team Fortress 2 and its characters.
He lied. Being a Sniper wasn't that great a job. Especially not when you saw your lover—the one you'd gladly take a bullet for, the one you'd get burnt for, the one you'd rip your eyes out for—not when you saw that person...
He knew, oh yes, he knew from the beginning that the Spy was as wild and uncontrollable as the Outback. But it still stung.
He had fallen in love, as stupid as that sounds, with an enemy spy. He had fallen in love and he was too senseless to snap out of it.
He looked through his scope and there was the Spy, his hand on the belt of that silly Scout kid who was sweating and trying to escape like a sheep being cornered by a dingo.
He looked through his scope and there was the Spy, holding the Scout's chin up, forcing eyes to lock.
He looked through his scope and there was the Spy, pressing his lips, the lips that had once touched the Sniper so affectionately, against that little runt's lips.
It made him sick to his stomach.
He could kill the Scout. It was right there, the shot; it was clean, beautiful... But he chose against it. The kid had nothing to do with it. It was all Spy's doing.
His dad had gotten it wrong when he told his son that sniping was a "sick and sadistic act of lunatics." No... Sadistic was the Demoman that laughed as he watched his victims separate like fireworks. Sadistic was the Pyro that grinned under his mask as he burned his enemies to a crisp. No... Sniping wasn't like that.
On his station on the watchtower the Sniper could see it all. Heavies killing enemy Medics. Soldiers eliminating Engineers. Men slaughtering men. Animals living for death. He watched, knowing he was no different. He played God for a living, just like the rest of them. And every single time he pulled the trigger, he knew it was wrong, but he enjoyed it.
But none of that pain he received from his line of work compared even the slightest bit to the hard gut feeling of betrayal.
That wasn't the first time it happened. Spy had been involved with almost every class while Sniper was watching. Why the sniper was still madly in love with him was beyond his understanding.
Perhaps it was the way Spy purred his name in a way that made him feel alive again.
Perhaps it was the way Spy always knew exactly what to say to make everything right.
Perhaps it was the way Spy smiled.
He smiled, as genuinely as a Spy could, and nothing mattered anymore. He smiled, and Sniper's life had a meaning again. He smiled and humans weren't morally deprived.
He looked through his scope and there was the Spy, standing next to the Scout's corpse.
He was foolish for falling in love with an enemy Spy, but he didn't care, because masochism was just part of the job.