Prompt – (18) Love – (10/100)
Characters – BLU Spy, RED Soldier
Word count – 400
Disclaimer - Not mine. Gaben, I wish you all the sandviches.
Author's Note - Prompts from - community/projects/913493. I apologize in advance, but the ETF2L Highlander tournament has done this to me, along with the Polycount update. Also, some of this is total fluff, and I'm a sap for Pyro and Engie.
Love
Spy was bored. Therefore, he had decided to practice his profession in the most amusing way possible, and was tailing one of his favorite targets.
It was a Saturday night, late, and he had been in RED's base all day without detection. Their Soldier, a man even more paranoid than their own, was always amusing to follow, if just for the sheer entertainment of the man talking to himself. However, he had been acting strangely all day, even by his standards. Over breakfast, his helmet perched precariously over his eyes, he had asked if anyone had any colored paper. RED Engie had said yes, and had told them man to stop by his shop later. Spy had only caught the tail end of the conversation, but was amused by what could possibly be done with pastel paper.
Solly had nearly fled Engie's shop and Spy picked up his trail just outside. It wasn't really hard to shadow the man; he made a racket everywhere he went. Sliding into his room was a simple task for a spy of Builders League United Spy's talents.
Soldier immediately ducked into the bathroom, paper in hand, after glancing furtively around the room. Sounds of cutting and rustling came through the door, and Spy couldn't for the life of him figure out what was going on. Ear pressed to the door, he was caught off guard and just barely avoided being bowled over as the RED came barreling out. Thank goodness the cloak was still up, he thought to himself as he righted himself.
A savage bite to the inside of his cheek was the only thing that kept him from laughing.
Solly was sprawled across his regulation-made bed with his shovel, arm wrapped around the haft like it was a woman's waist.
A card, like one made by a schoolchild, sat on the pillow, something resembling, "Happy Birthday, Shovel!" written in a scrawl across the front.
"Happy birthday, baby!" Solly grimed as he swept his helmet off, much to Spy's shock. Blond hair in a mad disarray shagged over startlingly green eyes as he pressed his lips to the shovel's blade.
It was the strangest relationship he had ever seen, Spy reflected later as he sat in his own base, empty shot glass next to the mostly-empty bottle Demo had pushed onto him. One worthy of getting completely shitfaced so as to forget it.