((A/N: WARNING: This chapter contains alcohol and minor drug use. Nothing hard core. I am not condoning, nor encouraging the use of illicit drugs. I'm just reminding you that this story does take place in the 1960's. And that head-cannon says BLU Sniper is an unwashed hippie.))
The Engineer was winded by the time they reached the snipers nest on the top of the BLU base. He was a short man that was not overly fond of stairs, and glared at the Sniper in distain as the tall man laughed at the poor Texans huffing and panting. "You gotta work out more," he teased, placing the case of beer on the floor before opening the narrow windows that lined the small room.
"Says the support class that literally sits on his be-hind all day," the Engineer huffed. As he finally caught his breath, he was slightly surprised to find it was night already, the lack of windows in the BLU base made keeping track of time near impossible. Dim, pale moonlight filtered through the thin windows as cool night air whistled in, bringing with it the clicks of cicadas and crickets, and the quiet hum of the industrial base.
The small room faintly illuminated, the Engineer noted that there were no chairs, just a couple of pilfered couch cushions from the rec room placed onto a couple of overturned ammo crates. An empty beer case served as a makeshift table, upon which the Sniper placed his hat along with a weathered oil lantern, which he preceded to light with an old Zippo. "Make yaself at home."
The Engineer looked around one last time before taking a seat on one of the ammo crates, the lumpy couch cushion dipping under his weight, but it was comfortable. And was only bound to get more comfortable as soon as they opened up that twelve pack. Sniper wasted no time, tugging the lid off of the box and producing two sweaty bottles of cold Blu Streak. He passed one along to the Engineer before taking a seat on the opposite crate, twisting off the cap and tossing it into the crown of his hat. When Engineer had done the same, the Australian lifted up his bottle and quietly murmured "Cheers, mate." The bottles clanked together, and they each took a deep swig.
Blu Streak wasn't the best beer. Sniper personally detested the stuff, constantly claiming that he'd never drink beer from the States again once he returned to Australia, where they made real beer. American beer tasted like piss, and no, please don't ask how I know it tastes like piss. But it was alcohol, and that was all that mattered at this point in the game. Engineer watched as the Sniper set down his bottle, hoisted his rifle up to rest the butt against his shoulder, and peered through the scope. The span of land between RED and BLU was deserted, as it usually was during ceasefires. He didn't anticipate having to waste any bullets tonight, and simply rested the gun against the wall between two windows, always in close reach, just in case.
"All quiet on the western front?" the Engineer questioned, peeking out the window himself as he took another swig from the bottle, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
The Sniper nodded, reclaiming his bottle as he propped himself on the wall behind him. "Yeah. Bloody REDs are probably exhausted from the great damn job they did today. Pikers," he grunted, nursing the beer slowly as he watched his companion pound it back. That was a tad worrisome, wasn't it? "Take it easy, shortie. We got another ten bottles. Don't gotta drink it like it's runnin' away."
The Engineer paused mid-swallow, lifting his bottle up to the moonlight to observe the contents, frowning when he saw a little over half of the liquid gone. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his real fingers. "You're right," he mumbled, leaning his shoulder against a window sill and looking down. "Just… a bit distracted, partner."
"Yeah, I can tell," Sniper leaned forward again, placing his elbows on his knees and holding the neck of the bottle with his fingers. "I know it ain't none of my business, but you mind telling me what the hell is wrong? I saw your little outburst in the booth. The hell did that phone ever do to you?"
The Engineer sighed through his nose before chuckling bitterly, taking another well deserved swallow. Already he could feel the effects running through his short body, his head lightening, a soft tingle in the back of his neck and his legs weighing down. "Goddamn phone don't do nothin' but deliver bad news, slim," he stated, still looking out the window as he felt the Snipers eyes on him. It never felt right to lie to the man. The Sniper was only ever concerned for his well being, he was the closest thing to a friend he had on the base. Though, he wondered how you could be friends with a man whose name you didn't know. "I told you about the divorce, right?"
Sniper grimaced, taking a long pull from the bottle himself. "Yeah, ya did. This got something to do with that bitch, again?" Sniper suspected he felt more righteous anger against the other man's wife than he did. This wasn't the first time the pair of them had knocked back a couple brews because of that woman, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. When he saw the Engineer glare at him disapprovingly, Sniper waved his hand, shaking his head dismissively. "Sorry. That was uncalled for… So what happened?"
Engineer snorted through his nose at what he knew wasn't a very sincere apology from the Australian, but then again, he had rather similar sentiments about the woman at the moment. He rested his head against the wall next to the window, keeping his eyes on the night sky. "A man answered the phone before she did," he said simply, the corner of his lip curling downward as he drained his first bottle.
The Sniper stared across the small room at his teammate for a few moments before silently reaching into the case and producing and opening another beer for the Engineer, shoving it into the man's hands as he relieved him of the empty. "You've got to be bleedin' kidding me."
Staring into the fresh bottle, the Engineer sighed and muttered, "Nope." He took a pull from the bottle, closing his eyes tightly as his fist clenched around the glass, his knuckles going white. In another sudden outburst, he slammed the bottle against the window sill. "I have done nothing but take care of her for nine goddamn years. I've tried to make this split as straightforward as possible, and she just can't wait to hop into bed with some dandy and be rid of me. What the fuck did I do to deserve this, huh?"
It was beyond unusual for the Engineer to lose his temper, and the Sniper simply sat stunned for a moment, before realizing his American friend might have actually been expecting an answer. "You didn't do nothin' to deserve that, mate. I've said it before, and I got no shame sayin' it again: she's an ungrateful bitch. I personally don't know how you've put up with it for this long. If she wanted out so bad, she wouldn't have prolonged signin' them papers." He rubbed his stubbled face with his gloved hand, fingers lingering on the thin scar on his cheek and nose before tugging off his aviators and tossing them into his hat. "You deserve much better, hoss."
Another bitter chuckle. Another swig from the bottle. The lightheadedness was becoming more pronounced as the Engineer tried to stay still as he leaned against the window. He kept reminding himself that he at least deserved to get plastered tonight. "You got that right, partner… But what can I do, really? I put up with it 'cause I've got to. Got my little girl to think about… Trying to make this painless for her too."
The Sniper was in the process of twisting off another bottle cap when the Engineers last words caught his attention. He looked up with his brows pressed together, arching one of them. "You never told me you had an ankle biter," he grinned, this new bit of information coming as quite a surprise. Though it did shed some much needed light on the situation.
Engineer looked down at the bottle in his hand accusingly, as if it had run its mouth instead of him. "I guess I never did. Gotta keep some information classified, ya know?" He sat up, grabbing the corner of the crate he was seated on to steady himself, placing the bottle on the windowsill, and then searching through the pockets on the front of his overalls. He slid out a worn Polaroid, rubbing his thumb over it affectionately before holding it out to the Sniper, who wiped his hand on his pants before taking it.
The photo was several years old, of a very small blonde girl in a light blue dress sitting in the grass with a teddy bear tucked under her arm and the head of a sunflower in her lap. She had a big gap-toothed smile on her freckled face, band-aids on her knees and a blue ribbon in her short hair. The field where she had obtained the sunflower stretched out in the background where it met a bright blue sky.
The Sniper bit his bottom lip as he looked down at the photo in the yellow lamp light. "Holy dooley, Engie. I didn't know you had it in ya'. She's bloody adorable." A grin split on his face as he passed back the photo. He didn't ask her name, out of respect for the Engineers privacy. He knew better than to pry, and if the Engineer wanted him to know, he'd tell him.
Engineer chuckled as he took the picture back, looking at it fondly one more time before sliding it back into his pocket. "Yeah well, she's the whole reason I'm doing this. Whole reason I'm even here. Wouldn'ta bothered agreein' to fightin' some petty blood feud if it didn't pay so well that she'd never have to work a day in her life. Priorities, partner." He took another swig from the beer, only to find himself with another empty bottle in his fingers. "Got a feelin' I did something today that's gonna disappoint the hell out of her though…" He placed the empty on the floor, considered the case in front of him, before pulling out a third.
An unexpected pang of jealousy shot through the Snipers chest as he listened to his friend. The Australian didn't really have a reason for fighting in this insignificant war, besides the money, because it came with the territory of being a paid assassin. He could stretch it to say he was doing it for his parents back home, but that would be a lie. His father would work until the day he died and would never take money offered by his son. That would be charity. His only son had left the farm, and the country, to earn easy money killing people from a distance instead of making an honest living like a real man. That made the Sniper a severe disappointment in the eyes of his father. The Engineer had something worth fighting for. The Engineer had done more with his life than the Sniper ever hoped to, than his parents had hoped he would do.
The Sniper breathed a sigh through his nose, looking out the window at the empty span of wasteland. "Yeah? I feel ya. Ain't nothin' worse than disapointin' the ones ya love." He sneered as the words left his lips. He was supposed to be unwinding up here. The beer was supposed to make him feel better, not bring him further down. Engie was the one looking like shit, remember? The Sniper sighed, depositing his second empty onto the floor with its brothers before rummaging through the pockets in his vest. "What'd ja do?"
The Engineer regarded his drinking buddy from behind the neck of the bottle he held, wondering what brought on such a melancholy tone from the Australian. He swallowed another mouthful and shrugged. "It's… ah… It's pretty stupid. I just… you know, I managed to break a promise I made to her before I left home. It's a silly thing, but when she finds out she's gonna be heartbroken. She's just a little kid, you know?"
The Sniper looked up from his search through his pockets, offering a sympathetic grin before mumbling. "Yeah. Actually, uh… I don't know. Ain't never been around kids in me life, but I'm sure it's not as bad as you're thinkin' it is. I'm sure it'll turn out better than you're expectin'." He finally found the object of his desire, pulling out a small plastic bag from one of the hidden pockets of his vest. Inside was about two ounces of marijuana and a few white papers. "I suggest we both stop feelin' sorry for ourselves and bloody relax while there's a goddamn ceasefire. Don't you agree?"
The Engineer snorted with a mouthful of beer, staring wide eyed at the contraband before wiping his mouth. "Where in the hell did you get that?"
The Sniper smirked, a much nicer alternative than the grimace he'd been wearing moments before. "Look, I don't know what the Pyro does with his or her spare time, but I ain't askin' any bloody questions. All I know is that it's probably over priced, and nobody likes gettin' high alone." He quirked a brow, looking across at the Engineer as he began expertly rolling up a joint. "You in?"
The Engineer watched the Snipers hand dubiously. He'd done pot a couple of times in his youth while earning his numerous PhD's, and then again after he'd lost his hand in the accident, but that had been several years ago. He stopped smoking when he'd gotten married, and had stopped drinking when his daughter was born. But as he watched the Sniper flip open his Zippo to light the end of the blunt, he couldn't resist adding "getting high" to "getting drunk" on the list of things he clearly deserved to do tonight. He smirked and leaned forward a bit. "You offering, slim?"
The Sniper laughed and coughed at the same time, blowing the smoke out the window as he passed over the fag. "You bet, hoss," he choked, fingers brushing against the Engineers before he leaned forward to fetch himself another beer.
