Sniper sighed heavily as he lurched into the camper van. It had been a long battle to say the least, and with the recent untrustworthiness of RED's respawn, BLU was gaining an upper hand. The nerves of it were getting to the rest of the team, and Sniper was no exception. He hated and loved these battles at the same time. He loved the rush and the adrenaline that made him feel young again, but he hated the pain and suffering that surrounded him and teammates every day in the endless cycle of war.
Every other weekend, the mercenaries had off to buy personal supplies like clothes, extra food, luxuries, etc. There wasn't enough time to make it home to Australia to see his parents, but Sniper was thankful for the two and a half days of peace and quiet that he received. He was also grateful for his chance to drive in town. He especially loved it there, because the town had everything he would ever need, but it was never bustling or loud. It had a sleepy quality about it that most small towns do, and it reminded Sniper of the ideals he had set for himself long ago.
The tall, lanky Australian pulled into the lot of his favorite bar in town. Unlike Tavish, he preferred to have the professional civility of not drinking on the job, and so he looked forward to treating himself with alcohol on the weekends. As he walked in, he nodded at the barkeeper and the man smiled. He knew the assassin, and he knew what his usual drinks were, there was no need for words. Sniper appreciated this, since he'd never been one for talking, much. Seemed to unimportant to him. He recognized all of the silhouttes in the bar from his many visits and the fact that Tuefort never grew much. The same people came and went every day, it was never much of a surprise. But he gave a slight start when he noticed someone new sitting at the bar. Someone with a strikingly similar outline, just not of that bar.
Skeptically, Sniper sat next to him, glancing at the smaller man out of the corners of his aviators. He was visibly skinny, like he didn't eat enough, and he had a stature that made him almost seem to disappear when Sniper wasn't focusing directly on him. This bloke is really pissing me off. Sniper thought to himself. Maybe I have met him before. Something about the way he moves is bloody infuriatin'. Sniper shook his head to clear his thoughts and turned his attention to copious amounts of alcohol until he could no longer think straight.
"How's the war goin'?" The bartender asked as he handed Sniper another beer.
"Bloody long." Sniper shook his head and took a sip. "But the good thing about bein' bloody mad all the time is that it makes it easier to blow the head off them damn BLUs." He grinned as the bartender let out a chuckle. The mysterious man next to him didn't stiffen per say, but his posture certainly changed. The bar was too dimly lit for the man's face to be made out, and that seemed to bother Sniper even more.
"How 'bout you?" The bartender tilted his head towards the other man. The man didn't meet his gaze, but lifted his chin enough to show he was paying attention. "What do you think of the whole war?"
"It's pointless." Said the man. He had an American accent from somewhere in the Midwest it sounded like. His voice was deep, but gravelly and it grated on Sniper's nerves. At the insult to the war he'd been risking his life every day to fight, Sniper sat up straighter, blood turning hot in his veins. He wanted to started a fight with this guy, he just needed a reason, and there it was. Sniper stood up shakily and quickly, and to his surprise the other man was already up and in a defensive position. Good reflexes. He remarked silently.
"Now, hold on men-" The bartender started lazily, and the other man turned to look the bartender up and down angrily. Sniper took the opportunity to punch him across the left side of his face, hard. You could hear the sound of knuckles hitting skin and a mark began forming on the man's jaw within a second or two. The man was seething and he clenched and unclenched his fists angrily. He swung at Sniper, and he dodged, but the man had been prepared for that and hit him in the gut, hard enough for Sniper to buckle over in pain. The two men started going at it, until the bartender broke them apart and was forced to kick them both out. Through the entire fight. Sniper never got a good look at the man's face.
Once the sunlight hit his eyes, reality began to sink into Sniper a little more. He sighed heavily once again, realizing what he'd just done. "Hey, mate, I'm sorry. I had a rough week, I didn't mean t' take it out on you." Sniper stood up, brushing the dirt off of his pants, and he held his hand out to help the other man up. The man took it hesitantly and stood up lightly. He wiped a trail of blood from his nose and shook his head.
"Don't mention it." The man looked Sniper in the eyes for the first time and Sniper's breath caught in his throat. There was something beautifully unnerving about the man. He had large, gray eyes that seemed to look straight into Sniper and a thin mouth underneath a pointed nose. His hair was brown and straight and he hadn't shaved recently.
Sniper had known that he liked men from the time he was maybe fifteen. It hadn't been hard for him to discover, just hard for him to admit. First to himself, then his parents. They were the only people he ever told. His father was never too keen on it, but his mother had been supportive. Sniper didn't tell anyone because he knew how unkind this world was to men like him, and he never went after men, even if he knew that they were the same as him in that respect. He thought it would be better for people to just think he was bad with girls (which he was). But it was men who looked like this man standing here that challenged.
Sniper could feel himself blushing and he hated that. The shorter man smirked a little and didn't pull his hand away. Sniper blinked and he was gone, already part way down the road and fading into the distance.