Sightless

Scout stretched, folding his hands behind his head, sprawling out in his seat. A smug grin grew on his face as he crossed one leg over the other, looking up when the others filed into the room, cheering and patting each other on the back. Medic stood with a sour look on his face, before sighing and shaking his head, stalking off to his room. Soldier and Engineer were missing, but he knew where the Soldier was-outside running laps. Engineer, he had no clue.

Spy smirked as he twirled on his heel, sitting next to the Scout on the couch, copying the younger man's pose in one fluid motion. The Bostonian pouted, before lazily dropping his hands to his side. He sighed and rolled his eyes as the Italian copied him.

"Are you my mirror now or somethin'?"

Spy smirked. "You should be glad I am. You get to see the most handsome reflection in the universe."

Scout rolled his eyes again, grabbing a part of the man's mask and snapping it. "I don't think I can count on just your word there."

"Ah, but you must!" he sobbed dramatically, grabbing the Scout's hand in his own, "For it is your destiny!"

"Did you hit your head or somethin' on the way back, man? Seriously." Retching his hand free, the men glanced at the other members of their team who had sat themselves in the break room. Sniper had sat next to the Spy, Heavy on a recliner, and Demoman and Pyro on the floor. Scout looked around the room, lifting himself a little off the chair, straining to look into the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" He turned to look at the Sniper, the blonde raising his eyes quizically.

"Hardhat ain't here. He wasn't lookin' too hot in the spawn room either." he huffed and flopped back into his seat, crossing his arms. "Surprised we never got our intelligence taken. We had no sentries."

Heavy shifted in his seat, "Ever since we got mail two weeks ago, I don't think he's slept."

"Nah." The Scotsman waved his hand dismissively, "I don't think the guy got much sleep in the first place."

"But he functioned at least," Scout mumbled, resting his head in his hands.

He could feel the Italian shrug. "I could cloak and go do my job. Spy. I can do that. It's in my description. Spying. That is a thing I do."

The Pyro's muffled speech responded next, motioning with his hands at the Sniper.

"Pyro says to leave him alone."

"Job description."

"He doesn't care," The Englishman sighed, rubbing his temples. "How about a subject change? I saw Engineer leave the match before it was done. He's probably in his room getting some sleep, just leave him alone."

Spy smirked. "You sound like a doting wife."

"I don't think you know what a dotin' wife sounds like." the Scout shook his head, before jumping out of his chair in sudden realization. "We won against the Red team!"

"Ye sure are slow, lad."

The Bostonian pouted again, lightly pushing the Demoman's face with his foot. In retaliation, Demoman pushed the Scout back, the younger man crashing to the floor on his back, whacking his head on the edge of the couch. He sat up and rubbed his head lightly, wincing as he looked at the Romanian who'd started talking.

"We haven't won in around two or three weeks," Heavy mused, a smile on his face. "It's nice."

The Sniper looked over his shoulder to the staircase, before turning back and sighing, "I'd say we should celebrate, but I doubt our grumpy medic over there would approve."

Scout's eyes widened and he looked at the blonde, staring at him in shock for what seemed like minutes. It took a moment before the Englishman looked down and annoyingly raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

The Bostonian continued to stare blankly at the man. "You said we should celebrate."

Sniper squinted, mouth twitching in disgust. "What in God's name do you mean by that?"

Another pout formed on the Scout's face, and he pointed accusingly at the blonde. "You know exactly what I mean! You're just as grumpy as the doc!"

There was a moment of silence. It filled and hugged the air for what felt like eons of time. The youngest finally lowered his arm, but the eye contact between the two men never faltered. There wasn't a moment of silence anymore, it was an eternity of silence. The two men didn't break eye contact, and the rest of the team fidgeted in their seats, the Demoman silently getting up and grabbing a drink from the kitchen before returning to his spot on the floor. He was smirking as he took a drink from his water, eyeing the scene.

Scout's mouth twitched. It felt like time had stopped. This was unnerving. Had the Sniper even blinked in however long they'd been staring at each other? This was creepy. He hadn't blinked, he was sure of it. After a chill went up the boy's spine, he shuddered and reluctantly looked away, twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

A few more silent seconds passed, before a chuckle enveloped the room, which slowly evolved into a laugh. The entire room eventually erupted in laughter, snorts and chuckles and clapping and recalling the event in a hysterical fit. The laughter ended with conversation about their exploits and failures in the match that day, which went well on into hours of the morning before most of the men retreated to their rooms, Scout, Spy and Pyro staying to watch whatever channel they could find on the battered TV.

Scout had sprawled himself on nearly the entirety of the couch, the Spy sitting at his feet, Pyro taking up residence on the recliner, paying more attention at setting the chair upright and reclining it than watching the movie. The Bostonian blinked tiredly at the screen, scowling.

"Man, what are we even watchin'?"

The Italian hummed, tapping his chin, "I believe it's a romantic comedy. Too bad I have no idea what's going on, so it's not very funny. Or romantic, for that matter."

"Well change it to somethin' we can understand then."

"I'm much too comfy to move. Pyro, would you mind?"

The duo glanced at the masked person, who stopped reclining the chair mid-way and looked back. There was another moment of silence before the unknown entity hopped off the chair and bounded up the stairs, slamming the room to his door shut.

Spy blinked before turning to the younger man, shrugging. "Guess that's a 'no'."

"Guess so."

They turned back to the TV, staring with feigned interest as the foreign language to the both of them rolled out of the speakers. The only thing Scout was able to muster up as maybe a plot for the flick was a man cheating on his girlfriend or wife, cheating on the woman he was cheating with, and cheating on that woman. Maybe. It was hard to tell. Was he the only man in this show? There didn't seem to be any other man that he could recall. Maybe the guy was the last man alive and had to repopulate the Earth, but the women didn't like that.

It was hard to tell.

"So..." the Spy started, twirling his finger in the air as he spoke. "How long has everyone been on this team?"

Scout shifted, using his elbows to prop him up and scoot himself back to hold himself in a half-lying, half-sitting position against the couch's armrest. He folded his arms and glanced at the ceiling, "Well, startin' with you, you've been here three weeks. Sniper and I've been here for a year. Demo said he's been here for around five. Heavy was... four, I think. Engie I think has been three years. Maybe. Soldier, I got no idea. I don't think the guy has any sense of time. Medic just says jackshit about anything personal. And Pyro, well..." He shrugged. "Pyro's Pyro and we got no idea. I can't read that hand language he and Crumpets do."

The Italian smirked. "I believe it's called 'sign language'."

"Yeah, whatever, they use their hands." He returned the smirk and laughed, "Hey, can't you understand 'em? I heard you guys talk with your hands all the time over there."

The man rolled his eyes, face suddenly turning solemn as his voice was piqued in dark curiosity as he asked, "What happened to the other Spy? What was he like?"

Scout let out a deep sigh, resting his hands under his head and lightly tapping his foot on the cushion. "Well... for starters, he kept to himself. He conversed and whatnot, but you just knew he was hidin' stuff and would sometimes just leave conversations when people were still talkin' to him. He was good at his job though, even though we didn't win much. He was sometimes the only reason we got close to it. Don't know how he did it, but he managed to turn off his respawn chip one night and just offed himself. In the kitchen. I wasn't the one to wake up to find the guy hangin' by a noose above the table-that was Hardhat."

"He didn't give any explanation why?"

"None at all. No note, and Miss Pauling told us he didn't send or receive anythin' from anybody. He just... did it."

"I see..." the Spy mumbled, staring at his folded hands in his lap. There was an uncomfortable silence before the man reached up and grabbed the ends of his mask. Scout jumped up, eyes wide with confusion.

"Woah woah woah, what're you doin'?!"

The man looked at him, also confused. "I'm not wearing the clothes some dead guy wore!"

Scout tilted his head and his face squished with even more confusion, "They didn't give you his outfit, dumbass! You got your own! He was like two feet taller than you, and he had a super huge head, man!"

Spy froze, blinked, and then rested his hands on his lap, giant grin on his face as he laughed, "Then I am perfectly fine wearing this outfit!"

The dark brunette dropped himself back to lying on the couch, lightly kicking the other man's shoulder with his foot before snickering, "You're a goddamn moron."