A/N - sorry for the delay and issues with this upload. For some reason it seems has eaten my scene break lines - I'm trying to fix it. In the mean time the update is up on A03 and smoke-eyes-fic on tumblr. Thank you to SilverEnderWolf for pointing that out to me.

It had been a long few days since his humiliating loss at the hands of the enemy Spy. The BLU Scout had heard about the photos and had pounded on his door demanding the copies and negatives. Spy had of course refused but the boy persisted in hounding him constantly. Both him and the RED Spy, it seemed, had become outlets for the idiot's frustrations.

After a few days of this he was quickly running out of patience and hiding places on base he decided to seek sanctuary with his cowboy.

He slinked down the RED basement steps and strolled to the workshop door, ignoring all the signs against smoking and trespassing. He tried to open the door but found it was locked. Strange. The man must be having trouble with his own teammates. It took only a moment for the Frenchman to unlock the door and let himself in.

"Good evening," he announced himself quickly palming his duplicate key.

"Ah had that door locked for a reason," the Texan grumbled, not glancing up from his work bench. The man seemed to be reassembling the sentry he'd destroyed earlier that day.

"Monsieur Cowboy," he greeted the man with a smile, though Engineer was too busy to notice it.

He strolled further in the room, letting the door latch behind him. "When was the last time you went to the cinema?" he asked as he settled into the arm chair. "I mean a real film, not that beach monster nonsense." The nearest actual movie theater that wasn't showing Attack of the 50 ft Hippy or whatever the latest tripe was nearly halfway across the state, but that meant a long drive with the Texan. A weekend away from base, actual civilization, good company and entertainment that probably didn't require 3d glasses. Maybe by the time they got back Scout would lose interest of forget and he could be left in peace. He looked up at the Texan to gauge interest in the prospect, the man hadn't seemed to be listening. "Or we coul-" he warily began thinking of another suggestion.

"A-Ah think you should…" the man hesitated, looking up from his work but not meeting his eye. "Think yah should stop comin' around here."

"What?" Spy tensed, the smile on his lips rapidly evaporating, he had to be hearing that wrong.

"I'm askin' you nicely."

"Qu'est-"

The Texan cut him off. "I - I think it's really for the better. If we stop… this…" the man shook his head, "whatever this is."

What was happening? Why was this was happening? The last time they'd met down here the cowboy hadn't protested. Hadn't thrown him out. Hadn't turned him away. Even kept him safe from discovery by a member of his own team. He'd given him coffee. Invited him to stay around. Even after he had told his story the man hadn't protested, hadn't thrown him out like he'd expected. What could have changed?

"Give me a reason."

Engineer glanced at him before turning back to the broken machine on the table. "Ah never really figured what you're after. Comin' around here these days. Ya bored? Lonely? Why are you down here right now?"

"I came down here just to chat." A deceptively simple answer that didn't even begin to cover the truth of the situation. He had come because he'd wanted to. He enjoyed the man's company, his voice, his smell. The man's workshop had become a refuge of sorts for him as much as its owner had become a habit for him.

"How do I know yer not playing me for a sucker? That yer not just biding your time and one day I'll find you blackmailing me for your amusement?"

"Black… mail…?" he repeated woodenly, not quite believing what he was hearing. "You think I'm… using… you?" The notion was ridiculous. Preposterous. How could the cowboy think that?

"You shadowed a teammate o' mine, took dirty pitures of him with a woman, and showed them to her son. -"

"-to be fair, he turned out not to be Scout." Spy pointed out feebly.

"An' that's supposed to make it better? You skulk around here, followin' me, poke your beak around in my property and my business" the Texan jabbed an accusing finger at him "the only logical conclusion I can make is you're settin' me up for somethin' like ya did Spy!"

"I am no-" Spy's hands clenched into fists, how dare the Texan suggest that.

"Then why do you keep hangin' around here?" the Texan asked again.

Spy gave no reply, his stomach churned. After all this time. After everything. After he'd come clean about his plans, after he'd told the man the truth. There were few people he'd been open with. And even fewer, if any, who still lived. He had hoped, rather foolishly he could see now, that Engineer might at least be a friend. But the man still thought he was the enemy. Accusing him even now.

He ignored the urge to yell, speaking carefully through grit teeth , "I can assure you Monsieur that I woul-"

"Yah can't assure me of anythin'." The Texan said firmly, crossing his arms across his chest. "Yah can say anything yah like, that doesn't make it any more honest."

"Mon ami-"

"We. Are. Not. Friends!" Spy cringed as the man added, "Yah probly don' even know what the word means!"

For once, Spy found himself at a loss for words. His mind reeled, going through all possible options, all possible angles. Something he could use. Something he could say to change the man's mind. Anything.

"Now I'm askin' yah nicely to leave. Leave and not come snoopin' round here anymore."

Not come back. Then he'd only see the cowboy in skirmishes. Never talk to him again. Never to see that smile again. Only fight him. To be enemies again. The thought was more painful than he'd realized.

"Please Mo-"

"Spare the crocodile tears." Engineer glared, jabbing a finger at the door. "I'm askin' ya once, leave before I make you."

Spy was rooted to the spot, unwilling to move, the image of the man bleeding out on the floor resurfaced in his mind. That would be the only way he'd see him. He swallowed, his heart seemed to have leaped from his stomach to his throat. "Non." he answered finally looking the cowboy in the eye, daring him to move him.

The Texan held his gaze for a moment before glancing away. "Leave!" he demanded, his voice cracking.

"No," Spy repeated firmly, unsure what he was hoping to gain.

"I am done askin'," the Texan grabbed him angrily by the lapels, pulling him up from the chair and onto his feet. The Engineer's fist moved before he had a chance to dodge, hitting him squarely in the mouth. Staggering backwards into the workbench, Spy massaged his jaw and chuckled. The cowboy stood before him, teeth bared, fire in his eyes, nostrils flaring, his large hands clutched into fists. Rarely had he seen the man like this, his usual calm demeanor slipping to show the intensity he was capable of. But now all that fire was focused on him. Spy's smile widened.

"What do'ya find so funny?" the Texan demanded swinging another blow. Spy stepped to the side, avoiding the man's fist. With more speed than the Frenchman expected Engineer grabbed him by the shirt collar and roughly pinned him against the table breathing heavily as he raised his fist again.

On impulse, Spy leaned closer, feeling the man's breath on his face. Blood pounding in his ears he leaned in, bridging the distance between their mouths and kissed him.

It wasn't a long kiss, or even the most passionate. By his standards it was chaste. It had just been a moment's impulse. But it was enough to stop the cowboy in his tracks.

Spy held his breath for what felt like an eternity. Stupid. Stupid. He shouldn't have done that. He should have done anything but that. Fighting back, or allowing himself to be beaten, or killing the man. All of that would have been less dangerous than stood there woodenly his grip on Spy's collar loosened.

Spy's heart threatened to jump out of his throat as he waited for the man to protest, complain, panic. Hit him. Anything. He'd just made this situation worse. The man's face was unreadable. He waited for the Texan's inevitable there was only the sound of the cowboy's rapid breathing.

He was trying to free himself from the man's grasp when the hand on his collar tightened. Then to his shock, Engineer yanked him forward. For a moment Spy wasn't sure what was happening, the kiss was clumsy, awkward, but made up for it in intensity. Spy felt a shiver of both surprise and delight as he reciprocated, leaning deeper into the kiss answering the man's intensity with his own. Then another and another, the cowboy seemed to gain more confidence with each kiss, barely giving Spy time to catch his breath. The Frenchman pulled at the man's coveralls, pressing closer feeling the man's body against his own, taking in the smell of sweat and gun oil. He felt the Texan's strong arms, he'd often remembered the brief feel of them around him that night in the back of the truck, but hadn't let himself hope he'd experience it again. Nuzzling Engineer's neck, he nipped it experimentally and was rewarded with an excited moan. Strong hands began deftly unbuttoning his jacket. Obligingly, the Frenchman shrugged off the garment and let it fall to the floor.

He put his hands on man's straps to unfasten the man's overalls but the catches seemed to fight Spy with every tug and pull. He growled under his breath, roughly grabbing at the straps which refused to give up. Spy could feel the rumble of the Texan's chuckle under his fingertips as the man's nimble hands unfastened the straps letting them fall loosely.

Niether of them spoke, their mouths too busy for words. Spy grinned as he cupped the cowboy's growing erection through worn denim. The man wanted this as much as he did.

He eagerly ran his hands along the man's chest feeling the cowboy's heart racing as fast as his own. He'd started to unbutton the shirt, when Engineer grabbed him by his tie and yanked him in for another hungry Texan's mouth traveled from his lips along the mask down to the bare skin at the base of his neck. Spy murmured involuntarily as the cowboy lingered on the sensitive skin there before unbuttoning Spy's shirt.

As the Texan's calloused hands grasped his waist pulling him closer and Spy felt himself get hard. His own hands explored the geography of the man's back, feeling muscle shift and flex beneath them, but still dressed in leather he couldn't touch skin.

Spy turned his gaze to the Texan's face, watching him as he tugged his leather gloves off with his teeth, as he let them fall to the floor. The slight motion along the column of the man's throat as he swallowed was too tempting to resist and he brought his mouth to the pulse point just under the Engineer's chin. Engineer jerked and uttered a muffled curse, and Spy slid his hand into the Texan's without lifting his head, interlocking their fingers together. When he squeezed, Engineer squeezed back. His heart was pounding. He felt the sandpaper texture of the Engineer's stubbled jaw as he grazed his teeth across it. At that point that his dear cowboy decided he would no longer play a passive role.

The Engineer pulled out of his grip. Sturdy hands found his hips, grinding them up against the Texan's solid frame and as simple and brutal as that manipulation of his body was, it sparked an electric jolt through him that threatened to unhinge his knees. He breathed out and gripped the edge of the work bench, leveraging himself up against the other man. Someone groaned, a resonant and gutteral sound, like some creature in heat. Was it the Engineer? Himself? He didn't know. And didn't care. He could still taste the other man on his tongue, the faint bitterness of the beer he must have had earlier. Spy swiped his tongue across his lower lip, tender from exploring the Engineer's throat. He had to have another kiss, had to have him on his tongue again. The man's name tumbled from his mouth, so quiet it was almost without voice.

The Engineer rocked him up against the table again and he pawed at the man's broad back, felt the raging heat of his skin even through the work-worn denim. He moved his hand to the back of the Texan's neck, and kissed him again, hungry and open-mouthed. Engineer made some wonderful noise and he swallowed it down into himself. He couldn't wait anymore. This clumsy rutting against one another wasn't how he wanted it. And it wasn't enough, not nearly enough. His free hand first cupped and then lightly gripped the other man through his clothing, ran his fingers down the front, searching... Grâce à Dieu, there was a zipper at least, and no complicated strap contraption impeding him from what he wanted. At last, at last his fingers closed one by one around the rigid steel of the Engineer. The Texan melted against him and the sheer delighted satisfaction this naked response elicited made him chuckle even while he struggled to keep the two of them upright. Very carefully, he eased his hips back against the work table again, letting it bear his weight while he slid the zipper of his suitpants down, fingered the button free from its hole and reached in to take hold of himself. The feel of his own hand gripping hisaching erection made him sigh. As best he could, he shifted the Engineer in his grasp and wrapped his fingers around both their members. The Texan had regained his feet by then and was watching the hand he had around the both of them with feverish desperation. He continued to watch as Spy began to stroke the both of them, his hand moving as slowly as he could bring himself to, squeezing a little on each upstroke. Engineer watched and Spy found his gaze incredibly arousing. The Engineer watched his hand, but his own eyes were on the man's face, his hand settling into a practiced rythm. On more than one stroke he rubbed his thumb up just beneath the corona of his shaft. The sound of each ragged breath was embarrassingly loud to him. As if he were some overeager virgin. But his dear Texan was in no better condition. The man had settled a heavy hand on his shoulder to keep himself steady, his chest and forehead dotted with sweat. Spy leaned back in for another kiss, and at last Engie lifted his head to look at him. He felt the Texan reach his peak, his come spooling out of him and over his arm and both their clothes, his moan surprisingly quiet against his mouth. He didn't last much longer, stroking in quick, rough jerks until his own orgasm burst sweetly behind his eyelids and over his knuckles. "Très bon... "

The Texan's breathing started to even out and Spy felt his heart slowing down to normal. Pulling a hankerchief out of his pocket he began wiping his hands. Glancing down at the Engineer he smiled "Well Mo-" then stopped when he saw the man's face….

The man gaped at him, his face red, his eyes wide. The look in his eyes wasn't sated bliss as one would expect, he looked distraught, confused.

"Eng-" he spoke again, hesitantly reaching a hand to the man's face, the cowboy pushed him back into the table. Stepping away, the man turned his back to the Frenchman and quickly began buttoning his shirt.

Spy's heart sank, the man had kissed him back, true he had initiated but Engineer had reciprocated. He had returned the kiss, hadn't protested, hadn't stopped him. Hell the cowboy seemed just as eager as he had been. What had happened?

"Damnit damnit damnit," he heard the man mutter under his breath as he fumbled with the button.

The man had kissed him back, Spy reminded himself, and held him. Nothing in his actions implied he had been unwilling.

Too much. Too much, too fast he realized as he shoved the hankerchief back in his pocket, swallowing a lump in his throat. The Texan was inexperienced, he should have slowed down. Should have talked to him. Instead of charging on. He was an imbecile.

"I…" he trailed off before starting again, "I -" he hesitated, "…are you alright?"

Engineer had finished tucking in his shirt and was refastening his coverall straps, "'m fine," he said without looking back at Spy.

"We should-" he began, but the cowboy cut him off again.

"-'m fine." he insisted sharply. He glanced over his shoulder but avoided looking him in the eye, "Ah- ah… jus'…" he trailed off, pacing quickly to the other side of the room and placed the workbench between the two of them. "Ah jus' wanna be alone."

Spy frowned, if he left… what would happen? Sweep this under the rug? Pretend this never happened? It wouldn't be the first time that happened to him. But it would probably be one of the few times he didn't want that.

"Monsieur-" he started again.

"Please… "

Without another word, Spy picked his jacket off the dusty floor and brushed it off. Buttoning it up he examined the state of the rest of his clothes, thankfully once he was invisible no one would see the stains.

He stepped out the door, almost turned to say goodbye to the cowboy, but changed his mind and only the sound of the door latching behind him marked his exit.

Spy had left a while ago, slipping out the door and fading into the shadows of the base. The Texan walked around the room, mindlessly picking up tools and setting them back down. He took a sip from the beer on his work table, it had long since gone warm and flat. Woodenly, he set it down on the workbench, next to the bits of the sentry he'd been repairing before… the sentry Spy had destroyed, he reminded himself. Spy…

"Damnit," Engineer muttered, stomping to the sink. Turning on the taps, he grabbed a rag and scrubbed at the stains. Clean up the evidence, can't be seen like this. He had managed to get it out of the overalls easy enough but his shirt… that was going to need to be washed properly.

After dropping the rag in an empty bucket he shoved his face in the cold water. He turned the faucet off and toweled off with a semi clean shop rag. He wasn't sure what had happened. Well, that was a lie, he told himself. He wasn't innocent, he wasn't naïve. He knew what had happened. It was the why that plagued him.

His face burned with shame, it took two to dance and he was just as responsible as Spy. He hadn't been coerced, Spy hadn't forced him. He could have stopped at any moment. Resisted. Protested. Fought. He could take the man easily in an unarmed fight. Heck, he could have snapped him like a twig if he wanted. But he hadn't….

He hadn't been thinking clearly, he'd gotten caught up, lost in the moment. In the sensation. He shook his head trying to clear his mind, as the recent memories started bubbling up. The feel of Spy's mouth on his neck, his hand on his back. He rubbed the back of his neck, his thumb idly lingering where the snake's lips had been not too long before, the skin there was still a bit sensitive. He jerked his hand away, jarring himself from the memory.

"Shit." He needed to get out of here. The air was stifling, the walls which normally provided him with security felt like they were closing in. Spy's scent clung to him, pervading his nostrils. Clear his head. Get a shower. Clean up, go to sleep and forget anything ever happened.

The Texan walked stiffly up the basement steps, adjusting his shirt collar along the way and trying desperately not to look guilty. Hoping, praying he wouldn't run into anyone. The last thing he wanted was for any of the team to see him like this. Or smell him. He smelled like… well to be blunt… he smelled like sex and cigarettes. Sweat and French cologne. It was late -surely he wouldn't run into anyone. Just as he assured himself there was nothing to worry about he saw the imposing shape of Heavy as he rounded the corner.

"Engineer," Heavy greeted him with a quiet wave. There was no way he could pretend he hadn't seen the Russian. He was sort of hard to miss. Engineer nodded a greeting, hoping the man would go on his way.

"You are… wet?" Heavy rumbled as if just now noticing the damp patches on the Texan's clothing.

"Eh…" his brain froze in horror, unable to answer."Uh…" he added, in an attempt to explain himself.

The Russian raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Jus' gota'lil… " he finally managed to mumble, "a bit uh…" he gestured vaguely at his overalls.

"What-"

"W-well, I-I gotta get cleaned up!" he said, cutting off anymore questions, before the man noticed anything else unusual. "'Scuze me," he stammered and sidled past the Russian and sped down the hall. The bathroom was thankfully empty, and quiet, anyone else who was going to use it had already gone to bed.

With fumbling hands he unfastened his belt where it landed on the concrete floor with a clank. Sitting on the bench against the wall, he unlaced his boots dropping them to the floor. He peeled off the rest of his clothes, leaving them in a trail to the showers. He'd pick up later he promised the open air as he snagged a mostly intact bar of soap from a soap dish.

With the turn of a knob, the pipes groaned to life before finally spitting out water. Not even waiting for the water to warm up he shoved his head into the spray. Rolling the soap around in his hands he worked up a lather and began to scrub furiously at himself. The water warmed up and he relaxed in the hot spray, trying to ignore the various parts that still ached from the memory of the Frenchman's hands.

It had been so long since he'd been touched. Even before the divorce it had been ages, months maybe longer since he'd been kissed or… or anything. He hadn't been home much and the last time he had been home it had been almost a year ago and… marital relations had not been in the cards.

A year... It seemed a lifetime ago. Evie had left him alone. Alone and unwanted.

Engineer swallowed a lump in his throat and thought back to Spy's hands on his skin, the murmur of his voice. The feel of the man's breath on his neck. The smell of the man's cologne had rinsed off his skin but he couldn't scrub it from his memory. He'd felt so alive.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the wall, trying to clear his head. Think about the farm, think about his latest blueprint, uses for Austrailum, anything but the damn Frenchman. The feel of those leather gloves on his back, those same hands without gloves finding long forgotten sensitive places. His heart started to race, his pulse throbbing at his temples. With a grimace he turned the cold tap back on, he shuddered as the cold sank into his skin, temporarily clearing his head.

When the cold got to be too much for him he turned off the taps and started to dry himself off.

In past experiences on oil fields and college Engineer had run across many types of men. Some men liked blondes, some liked chubby brunettes, and some, well… some liked other men. It wasn't talked about. But it happened. He saw the quiet looks the doc and the Russian exchanged, everyone on base knew about them. Just no one mentioned it. You either complained or you turned a blind eye, you didn't acknowledge it.

But he wasn't one of them. He was sure of that. Hell, he'd been married and certainly hadn't had any trouble… rising to the occasion. It had been so long since he had, though…

That was it. He'd heard in situations without women, after too long men, men who normally wouldn't, would vent all that pent up frustration and energy on each other. He'd never personally experienced it, but it was common knowledge. That's what must have happened. The months on base had finally gotten to him. Just bottled up sexual frustration and nothing more. It meant nothing except that he'd been alone too long.

Tonight had just been a fluke. He just needed to blow off some steam, and the snake just happened to set him off. Just that and nothing more. It meant nothing. He could stop worrying about it because it was nothing and it meant nothing.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, he scooped up his shed clothes and boots. What he needed now was some sleep. He could sleep and pretend none of this had happened, he assured himself.

Morning came too soon. Rather than sleeping he had tossed and turned restlessly all through the night and the morning proved less forgiving than Engineer had hoped. He'd barely been able to look his reflection in the eye when he tried to shave. He slumped in the mess hall, nursed his coffee and debated about growing a beard.

"What is zat on your neck?" he heard a nosey German voice behind him.

"M-mah neck?" the Texan straightened from his cup of coffee. He hadn't examined himself that closely in the mirror. Had he missed something?

"A bruise?" Medic leaned in to get a closer look at it. Or a lovebite. Engineer slapped his hand on his neck before the doc could ask any more questions.

"I-it's nothin'… I, uh… just hurt myself last night." he tried to sound casual as he avoided Medic's gaze certain that he was probably turning as red as his shirt.

"How?" the older man inquired.

"Oh… n-nothin'. It was the silliest thing…" he trailed off trying to think of an explanation and failed. "It ain't anythin'. Dispenser will heal it right up." he said with a nervous rictus grin. "Speakin' of… ah-I better go start settin' up." Abandoning his coffee, he stumbled from the table and made his way to the door, stopping only to apologize to Pyro when he bumped clumsily into him. His apologies barely stammered out the man disappeared down the hall.

The rest of BLU team were still caught up in their morning routines as Spy walked around the BLU base's corridors. Already dressed, he was on the third cigarette of the morning and waiting for the morning coffee to reach his brain. The barracks were quiet, as most everyone was in the bathroom or mess hall or still trying to squeeze some more rest out of the morning before the hostilities began.

Glancing at his watch, Spy noted that there was over an hour before the skirmish could officially start. This time of the morning Medic would be in the mess hall with his second cup of coffee and yelling at anyone that looked the least bit enthusiastic about starting the day. (There were many terms one could use to describe the BLU team's doctor, "friendly" "well balanced" and "morning person" were not among them.) This meant the man would be quite occupied and not anywhere near his precious experiments.

Turning a corner, he found himself near the infirmary and more importantly, the room Medic had claimed next door as his personal lab. Few went in the infirmary if they could help it but no one ever dared enter the laboratory. The doctor made it quite clear that unpleasant things were in store for anyone he found inside. So far the man hadn't taken any notice of Spy's visits, with any luck he wouldn't notice this one.

He opened the door with a duplicate key, and stepping inside shut the door behind him. The room smelled like a jungle, and was lit with various sun lamps. It was probably the lushest, and deadliest garden in the whole desert. It might also be the only garden. Spy had never bothered to read the lunatic's notes to see what he was intending to do with his experiments and his plants, there were some things it was safer to not know. He just sometimes came around here out of curiousity. But today he had a purpose.

There was a slight movement in the corner of his eye, and a rustle of leaves, he ignored them and quickly strode to his goal; a set of rose bushes at the back of the room. Despite the German man's bad temper and unhinged morals, he grew some extraordinary roses. After some deliberation Spy pulled out his knife and cut a blossom off. Taking a dozen roses was out of the question but the man was unlikely to miss just one….

Engineer peered at his distorted reflection in metal trim of the dispenser, after a few minutes in the healing range the…. bruise had faded. He breathed a sigh of relief, with the physical reminder of last night's events gone, he could starting putting everything behind him. The sound of a distant explosion startled him from his thoughts. Getting back to work, he started setting up the rest of his buildings. Time to put everything behind him and get back to work.

The morning stretched on with little sign of the Spy, thankfully. He wasn't sure he could face the snake today. Or any day. Not after… what had happened. It seemed the man felt the same way and was giving him wide berth. As his sentry gun cut down an uncountable number of assaults from Scout and Soldier and he nearly got blown apart by a lucky sticky bomb just before lunchtime he began to doubt he would see the Spook today. It was right around this time that he felt the dagger in his unsuspecting back.

"Damnit! Damnit! DAMNIT!" his yells eched off the walls of respawn. He'd been an idiot to think Spy would leave him alone. Why would he? Just because he'd asked? They were enemies and the man was a bastard he reminded himself. He brandished his rifle as he stomped out of Repawn into the fray to see what the man had done to his work this time.

He grit his teeth as he surveyed the damage the Spook had done; his sentry was sparking fizzling wreck, his dispenser, had seemingly exploded, leaving a shattered useless shell. He growled prodding the sentry with his foot. He turned to the dispenser to see if he could salvage anything to speed up the rebuilding process. He froze when he noticed something out of place on top of the machine. Gingerly he picked it up and examined it more closely.

He turned it over in his hands his brain trying to calm down enough to process things other than murder, it was a … rose? Something about the color looked odd, he peeled off his tinted goggles to see it. It was blue. With a red ribbon tied around the stem. The Texan swallowed, feeling his ears and neck burn as the blush crept up his face.

There was little doubt who had left it. What was the snake playing at? Where did he find it? How did he find it? Where did it come from? Roses were not something you'd usually find in a desert, much less blue roses.

His mind had barely begun to spin possible scenarios when he heard the squeak and incoherent mumbling of Pyro coming down the hall. To check on him probably. He needed to get rid of the evidence. The firebug might not notice anything strange but the rest of his team would no doubt do a fair bit more than raise skeptical eyebrows over his finding strange flora on the battlefield.

Pyro mumbled and gave him a wave as he entered the room. "Firebug!" he exclaimed, hastily putting the rose behind his back, out of the curious arsonist's line of sight.

"Hmphudahmp?" Pyro asked tilting his head.

"No… no… nothin's wrong." he insisted, shaking his head in short, jerky motions. Pyro stared at him, his head still tilted.

"hudda?"

"N-nothin's wrong. I'm fine." he insisted. "Ah can handle things in here."

After a moment's hesitation the pyromaniac accepted this. With a quick, almost graceful turn on a heel, Pyro started back up the hallway. It occurred to him he could get rid of the evidence by giving it to the firebug. You barely had to ask and Pyro would burn anything without hesitation. Hell, Pyro would burn anything even if you weren't asking.

"'Ey Firebug." he called out, almost pulling the damn flower out from behind his back.

"Hmp?"

"Good luck pard'ner." he added lamely, giving a thumbs up.

Pyro returned the gesture and jogged back up the hall, back to where most of the action and flammable objects were.

The Texan shook his head as he tucked the rose deep into his tool pouch. Roses were rare in the desert. Blue roses were impossible. It seemed a shame to light a scientific marvel on fire.

"Stupid fool." he muttered to himself as he went through the rubble to find workable parts to rebuild.

After leaving his token for the Texan, Spy decided it was best to leave the man alone for the rest of the day. The cowboy had asked for time, and he would hardly be a gentleman if he didn't respect that. He couldn't avoid the man on the job entirely, but for he could at least give him a day. He tried to shake the almost certain knowledge that the man was never going to talk to him again. The rose, he hoped, would help illustrate his intentions.

At dinner he sat quietly at the far end of the table, as everyone else around him chatted and talked. Scout shot him daggers across the table and Medic seemed no more grumpy and surly than he'd ever been. It seemed Spy's theft from the mad doctor's garden had gone unnoticed. He finished his meal before everyone else and went back to his quarters. After locking the door to his room behind him he settled into his desk chair and pulled some plain unmarked stationary out of a drawer. Eventually he found a fountain pen that would write without exploding.

The man wanted to be left alone but that didn't mean he couldn't write to him in the meantime.

Spy stared at the blank page, tapping the pen on the desk. Setting the pen down he pulled out his cigarette case and lit a cigarette. Puffing quietly on it for a few moments he finally picked the pen back up and carefully wrote; 'Cher Engineer,' there was a second before it was scratched out.

'Salut Engineer.' was crossed out just as readily. Too casual.

'Cher Monsieur' Too formal. Fuming, the Frenchman crumpled up the paper and tossed it over his shoulder. He would incinerate the evidence later.

'Laborer' was too… too distant especially after all that had occurred.

'Mon Cher' too familiar.

"Merde," he muttered to himself, scrunched that page up and tossed it away. Soon the room would look like the Texan's ridiculous attempt at a trap.

He pulled another piece of stationary from the drawer and set his pen to write. And froze. Lost in thought he failed to notice the pen bleed ink onto the page. By the time he returned to his thoughts there was a large blotch at the end of the page. With a frustrated sigh he balled that one up and tossed it over his shoulder.

"Bordel de Merde." he slumped onto the desk, resting his head on his hands. For a while he sat like that, a statue of a frustrated man, the only movement the smoke rising from his cigarette. His cigarette had burned down to little but ashes before he stubbed it out. Then he picked up the pen and wrote.

'Monsieur Cowboy.' he read it again and slowly put down his pen. That was settled. Now he just needed to figure out what he wanted to say.

Engineer stretched out on his bed and tried to read his book. But all he had managed so far was staring at the pages until the words blurred beyond recognition. His mind refused to focus, with a grimace he shook his head and made himself reread the page. Reread the page and not think about….

It had been days since that… encounter in the workshop. He hadn't spent a lot of time down there since then. He had straightened the room up the best he could, swept up the cigarette butts, put the bear in a crate out of sight, he couldn't quite make himself destroy Teddy. But no matter what he did, the faint smell of cigarette smoke and his memories refused to fade.

No matter what he tried, or where he went the events haunted him. Playing over in his mind. The feel of leather gloves against his skin, the smell of French cologne, the feel of the man's skin under his hands.

The Texan's throat tightened and he glared at the page trying to think of something else. The book's protagonist had just stumbled over the third dead body, was facing murder charges and Engineer couldn't make himself rally any interest. This wasn't working, he shut the book with a sigh.

He wasn't going to be able to get anything done in this state. What he needed was to clear his head, get this out of his system and move on. Standing up, he walked to his desk and began sifting through the drawers.

The dirty magazine was right where he'd left it, at the bottom of his desk drawer underneath some old journals and junk mail he hadn't sorted yet. Pulling it out, he tossed it on the bed where it flopped open helpfully to the centerfold of a buxom blonde girl. She was wearing very little but a hardhat and doing something rather unlikely with a hammer.

He hadn't purchased the magazine, it had been shoved under his door one night after news of his divorce reached the team. It seemed to be a gift of sorts, though he never found out who left it and decided it was best not to ask. So he had kept quiet and tossed it in a desk drawer and pretended it didn't exist.

With a sigh, he scooped up the publication and sitting on the bed flipped idly through it, stopping on one of a woman sitting on the hood of a car, in a pair of coveralls that barely contained, much less covered her curves. The collar of her top was unbuttoned revealing a generous amount of cleavage, the lacy edge of her bra peeking out. In his mind's eye he imagined gently unbuttoning the rest of the buttons revealing her skin underneath. He swallowed, imagining the warmth of her skin, what her hands would feel like on his. Warm hands tracing down his chest, his heart quickened as he let the scene unfold in his mind his hands slipping underneath his waistband. She would eagerly unbutton his shirt and kiss him hungrily.

Gloved hands ran along his back, she chuckled as she unfastened his belt and pants.

He shifted on the bed to get more comfortable as he took hold of himself idly rubbing the tip with his thumb. In his mind he she smirked at him with brilliant red lips as he slid the rest of her clothes off, revealing her smooth skin. He grew hard as he imagined those lips on his own and working down his neck, leaving a trail of lip stick kisses. Leaning against the hood of the car, he grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, she would smell like oil, and wax, and perfume, and smoke. Gloved hands held him close, encouraging and enticing him. Spy's mouth was on his neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. The man's hand joined his own as he finished.

The Texan lay on the bed, spent, his head pounding. He breathed slowly trying to clear his head. Steady his pulse, try to make sense of things. But there was little to make sense of. Even his daydreams were damn lousy traitors. "Shit…" he hissed to the ceiling.

"Ey lad," Demo rapped on his door, startling him awake. "Phone call for ya!"

With a grunt he fumbled his pants on and shuffled down the hall to the phone, the receiver sat on top of the cabinet waiting for him. Who would be calling him? Surely not the snake.

"Howdy," he mumbled into the reciever.

"Hey, yer alive!" he relaxed recognizing Sam on the other end of the phone.

"Of course I'm alive," he huffed, "why wouldn't I be?" his family didn't know the exact nature of his work out in the desert or how easily death came and went out here.

"Hadn't heard from ya in a while, thought I'd call to see how ya are."

"Ah'm fine." he snapped and immediately regretted it. "Sorry… Sorry." he rubbed his eyes as he apologized. Sam had nothing to do with… any of this and didn't deserve his temper. It had been quite a while since he had called anyone back home.

"Ya alright? Ya sound tired." Sam observed with concern.

"A-Ah'm fine." he repeated, though this time he was unable to hide the weariness in his voice. "Just been havin' trouble sleepin' is all." he added.

"Somethin' been eatin' at ya?"

"No-no," he answered hastily, "Jus-jus' things here can get pretty loud… at night."

"Mm-hmm." His cousin clearly didn't believe him.

"…Yea." he insisyed.

There was a long pause then Sam cleared his throat, "It's been over six months."

"Six months an' three weeks," that's when the divorce papers had been filed, officially ending it all. He'd sent them just before Thanksgiving when Spy had - he shook his head trying to clear his thoughts and swallowed, "but whose countin'?" he added.

"Evelyn ain't comin' back, Cuz. That's one horse that's bolted."

"Ah know." he snapped. "Ah know." he repeated through grit teeth. Evie had left him for someone else and he… he wasn't sure what he was doing. He had accepted she was gone, he just wished everything could make sense again.

"Jus' cause she left ya doesn't mean yer life is over. Yah can find someone else." She did. Engineer added bitterly to himself. "Yah ain't that ugly." Sam added dryly.

"Ya do realize I work out in the middle of a desert don'cha?"

"What's yer point?" Sam countered, never letting simple facts get in his way.

"Jus-"

"You're in New Mexico, not th'Sahara." Sam countered. "Ain't there a town near ya? Ah coulda sworn yah mentioned there being a town."

"So?"

"Yer hardly in the middle of some deserted island as much as you like to claim." Sam pointed out, interrupting Engineer's thoughts.

"What's yer point?" he snapped irritably.

"Now yer jus' bein' difficult." Sam snorted, "You are allowed to be happy ya know. "

"Ah'm happy when people leave me alone." he grumbled.

"No ya ain't. We both know that."

Engineer remained sullenly silent, refusing to admit to Sam that he might have a point. Though Sam seemed to have taken the silence as an invitation to press on.

"Yah don' have to be a hermit now that Evie's gone. It ain't right for a man to be so miserable all the time. If yah just stop being so damn stubborn- "

"-Ah ain't miserable all the time." he cut in, knowing already he was going to lose that argument.

"Is that so? When is the last time you went out and enjoyed yerself?"

"I uh…There was -" his tongue stumbled as he remembered with vivid clarity the answer to that. Slumping against the phone he tried to keep the flood of memories from his mind. Memories of that night at the restaurant, the snake's smile, and the smell of cologne and cigarettes. "…Doesn't matter." he mumbled, though he wasn't sure if he was talking to Sam or himself. "It's nothin'" he insisted on the phone.

"It ain't nothin'," Sam retorted, "It's imp-"

"I… I gotta go Sam," he said quickly. "I'll talk to yah later." he promised slamming the phone on the hook with a sigh of relief.

He wearily trudged back to his room, and was about to flop on his bed when he noticed a folded piece of paper on his pillow. He picked it up gingerly and flipped it open.

'Monsieur Cowboy,' it read in a simple non descript cursive script. 'We should talk.'