Yes, I know this isn't Marry You?, and no, I haven't abandoned it, I promise! I really wanted to write this one shot for Halloween, but it has inevitably turned into a two shot. Then I will get back to MY, I promise! For now, please enjoy this humble offering of Scout in a bunny costume! Fanart that inspired the story: crowliphale/681853829835358208/social-media-is-so-funny-because-to-celebrate-the

"I'm not wearin' that." Scout stared with crossed arms at the box Soldier was holding. He glared at the picture as though it had done something to personally affront him. Which, in a way, it would if he had to put it anywhere near his body.

"Not without the shoes, ya're not." Engineer agreed, completely unhelpfully. He tossed Scout a pair of red high-heeled shoes, which the runner pointedly did not catch.

The three Americans, plus Pyro, were standing in the RED team's locker room the morning after a particularly important match. Scout's back was to the lockers, the three others managing to corner him while looking threatening and gleeful simultaneously.

"Nope, definitely NOT wearin' those." Scout announced firmly.

His teammates paid no attention to his protests. "Ya shouldn't have made the bet then." Engie responded, looking like he was trying not to burst into laughter.

In truth, Scout wasn't exactly sure why he had. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but maybe making a bet with Soldier mid battle had been stupid. Maybe making a bet with Soldier at all had been stupid.

But he had been high off the thrill of the fight, and the pursuit of the fleeing BLU medic, so he had impulsively bet Soldier that he would kill more men that day. He really thought he had too, when he returned to the locker room he was sure his kill count was at least 8-nearly the entire enemy team!

But Scout wasn't great at math, or anything else school related, so when the battle stats were displayed for the entire team to see, Soldier had him beat with 10 kills to his 7. Even worse, some of the team had the fuckin' nerve to not look surprised that Soldier had beat him.

Eager to stop the man's crowing, he had tried to give Soldier money so that he could go back to reminding them all how badass he was, but the crazed American had refused. Instead, he declared he had something he wanted Scout to wear the entire next day.

As soon as he heard it was something Soldier had bought for his fiancee, Zhana, but it was too small, Scout had blatantly refused, insisting that it hadn't been part of the bet. However Medic, ever the conniving shit-disturber, intervened to observe that no one else had been a witness to the terms of their bet, but they had all seen that Scout had lost.

And to really drive the knife into Scout's back (metaphorically), the doctor had commented that "A man should learn to take his defeats with dignity, should he not?"

But there was nothing dignified about the garment in the box Soldier was continuing to thrust at him. Sure, the girl on the box looked hot, but it wasn't an outfit meant for men, and he was no girl! There was only one thing left to do.

Looking over the shoulders of the two stocky Americans, the runner shouted "Pyro, what the heck, don't set that on fire!" The firebug, who didn't even have their flamethrower, looked back at him with a 'what did I do?' expression, but the distraction worked.

Diving to the left, Scout made a desperate break for his freedom, for his masculinity, jumping over a bench and dashing towards the door. He nearly made it too, but a harsh jerk on the back of his shirt sent him careening backwards into Soldier.

Even though he was only a little taller than Scout, the man was built so solidly that when his arms wrapped around Scout's upper body, he knew he wasn't getting away without a weapon.

Then of course, Soldier just had to take the insanity a little further. "Surrender, or we'll put it on you ourselves, maggot!"

"What?" Scout squawked. "You're not taking my clothes off, that's so fuckin' gay!"

To his slight relief, Engineer held up his hands and took a slight step backwards. "Now hold on Soldier, I never agreed to-"

Pyro interrupted him, their words too muffled for Scout to hear, but Engineer shrugged. "Alright then, pardner. Pyro says they're asexual, which means they ain't attracted to anybody, so ya don't hafta worry about them likin' taking your clothes off. Mighta considerate of ya."

This last phrase was pointed at Pyro, but Scout disagreed. "Uh, NO, it's not! You're not putting clothes on me, I'm not a fuckin' doll!"

As expected, all of the other mercenaries ignored him, Solider's vice-like grip holding him still as Pyro approached him with out-stretched gloved hands.

He couldn't physically move his upper body, so he kicked out at Pyro instead, sneakered feet aiming for anything they could reach. Pyro dodged the first few blows, although one caught his upper arm, but after dodging bullets for years Scout's feet were no challenge.

With one quick movement, the firebug gripped one of Scout's legs, and to his horror, started to pull on the pant leg.

"No,no,no,no,no!" Scout blurted out, panic rising in his throat. "I'll put it on, just stop that!"

The pressure on his pant leg ceased, but Pyro did not let go, looking to Soldier in question. The older man seemed to accept Scout's defeat, giving a short bark of laughter as he finally released his constricting grip of Scout's upper body.

"In battle, a man should never surrender, but escape from me is never an option! You made the right choice, maggot!"

"Yeah, yeah, gimme that thing…" Scout muttered, shoulders already slouching at his impending humiliation. Engie handed him the box, having the decency to look a little sympathetic, although he was smiling.

The runner peered down at the picture on the box, wondering how the hell he was supposed to put the main clothing piece on. Did it come with instructions? Probably not. The costume didn't even look like it would cover his junk, so how was he supposed to wear it without flashing everyone?

It was then that he realized the three others were still standing in the locker room, watching him intently. The memory of nearly being pantsed very fresh in his mind, Scout crossed his arms over his chest, hugging the box to it. "You're not watching me get changed!"

"Negative, but we will stand guard outside the room to make sure you put it on!" Soldier proclaimed, already heading for the door, but he paused to turn back around. "Do you know how I know you won't try to desert again?"

Thoroughly sick of the man at ten in the morning, Scout decided to just humor him. "'Cause you'll catch me?"

"No, because you will not fit through the window." Soldier stated proudly, as though this was a groundbreaking strategy he had just uncovered. With that, he marched out of the room, Pyro and Engineer following.

As soon as the metal door closed, Scout scurried over to lock it, if only to preserve his dignity just a little longer. But he knew it wouldn't last as he set the costume box down on the bench and opened it gingerly.

A part of him wondered if the whole thing was a prank, and Soldier had filled the box with racoon droppings or something else disgusting so he could have a good laugh at Scout's expense. A part of him hoped Soldier had.

But when he opened the lid of the black box, the small costume (red, of course), stared back at him, complete with stockings, ears, and several other things he did not want to put on. The high heeled shoes, which were also red, sat near the lockers where he had abandoned them minutes earlier.

Scout stripped off his shirt, discarding it haphazardly nearby, but that was as far as he got before discomfort began to well up again. When he pulled out the red…bodysuit and held it in his hands, it was blatantly obvious he was going to have to go commando underneath. He didn't have a problem with that in itself, he sometimes went commando, especially when he forgot to do laundry. But the outfit left very little to the imagination, and it wasn't really something he wanted to be wearing around a bunch of other men, especially when he already looked small and thin next to them.

He could feel everything that he had done to prove that he was just as manly as the rest of them being undone as he pulled the sheer tights up his toned legs, tucking his dick in before picking up the bodysuit again. Thankfully, it wasn't made for a chick with very large tits, since he didn't have any, and the back laced up so he could tighten it to fit him.

However, the laces created a new challenge, and the runner was still attempting to tighten them when a thunderous pounding began on the door. "What is taking so long? Do not make me break down the door!"

"I'm still here, ya nutcase, I'm just tryna tighten the…tha thing, so it fits!" Scout shouted back, craning his neck to look over his shoulder and into the mirror. It helped a little, and he was able to pull the laces tight and quickly tie a knot so that the silky bodysuit clung to his slim torso and hips.

"Do ya…need help, son?" Engineer, bless his heart, was still trying to be nice, but Scout was still mad at him for his part in his humiliation.

"I did it myself, no thanks ta you!" He snapped back. "I gotta put the resta this shit on, gimme a minute an' I'll come out."

Completing the outfit was over much faster than he would have liked, all that he needed to put on were the cuffs on his wrists, bow tie around his neck, and of course, the ears. The runner stood at the mirror, bracing himself on the counter. His new added height was taking some getting used to, and while he liked finally being close to 6 ft, balancing in the shoes was a real bitch.

But he also braced himself because the person looking at back at him, though clearly himself, was completely foreign. He had never seen himself look so…slutty.

Scout was hot, and he knew it, but he had never pushed that beyond going shirtless and flexing in the mirror, or wearing short shorts on particularly hot days. He had never worn anything as suggestive as the bunny costume now clinging to his body.

And even though he was loathe to admit it, Scout kind of liked it. His toned runner's legs looked great in the faint black tights, and although he was flat chested, the bodysuit made his ass look awesome.

Maybe he could make this work after all, the runner thought as he slowly walked to the door, wobbling a little as he went. Hell, maybe instead of laughing at him, the guys might think he was hot. He shuddered a little, now there was a scary thought.

But he did feel more confident as he prepared to face his teammates, secure in the knowledge that he looked good, regardless of what stupid shit they tried to pull.

Scout's gumption lasted until he walked into the team's 'living room' of sorts, flanked by Soldier and Engineer, as though he might take off.

Of course, the whole fucking team was there, sans Sniper, but he was rarely around when there wasn't a match. But the four mercenaries who were there turned to stare like he was a sideshow for their entertainment.

Medic, who was scribbling fervently in a notebook, glanced up with a look of surprise. He didn't react verbally, but nudged Heavy, who was engrossed in a novel of Russian literature.

The large man lifted his eyes lazily, but as soon as they made contact with Scout, they widened in surprise before a wide smile crossed his lips. Medic was smirking too, his piercing gaze making Scout feel like he was under a microscope.

Spy, who was tucked away in a shadowed corner, merely snorted with disgust, dropping his eyes to inspect a non-existent flaw in his suit. Scout supposed he was glad his father hadn't bothered with a biting comment, and it wasn't like he wanted the man's approval on how he was dressed.

The most entertaining reaction was certainly Demo's; the man was, as usual, drinking, but upon seeing Scout, he froze, glanced at the bottle, and then back at Scout. When the bunny boy remained present, the Scotsman slowly lowered his bottle to the table, eyeing it as though it had betrayed him.

Scout snorted a little. "It's not the booze, man. I really am wearing this."

The demolition man gave a visible sigh of relief, snatching up the bottle again while Medic rolled his eyes heavenward and muttered something about a liver transplant. After a few deep swigs, Demo laughed merrily.

"What're we waitin' fer then, eh? Grab 'im, has anybody got a camera?"

As soon as Scout's eyes fell on the camera clutched in Pyro's gloved mit, instinct took over, and he was flying out the door before anyone could seize him. However, he wasn't used to escaping in heels, and barely made it 30 feet before stumbling and crashing into something warm and solid.

Scrabbling a little at the cloth in front of him, Scout fought to keep his balance and look up at who he had run into.

Sniper, who had caught him by the upper arms, looked down at him with a bewildered look on his face. "What the bloody-"

"Oh, hey, Snipes!" Scout straightened up with a cheerful smile to hide the awkwardness he really felt. "Before ya ask, I'm only wearin' this because I lost tha bet. Gotta be a good sport an' all that."

"Yeah…I figured…" Sniper answered hesitantly, his eyes scanning Scout's frame with an analytic, but not unappreciative stare.

"Demo had a way better reaction than you, man! When he saw me, he actually put his booze down 'cause he thought there was somethin' wrong with it!" The runner chuckled, but paused when Sniper barely reacted beyond a small smile. "Ya get it? Because he thought he was hallucinating me dressed like this?"

"I got it, mate, just got a lot on my mind right now." Sniper murmured, releasing Scout's upper arms (had he been holding them this whole time?).

"Okay, yea, well I gotta run, those assholes are tryna take pictures of me." Scout moved to step around Sniper, more carefully this time, when the marksman seemed to snap back to reality.

"Ya know, if ya need somewhere ta hide, you can use my van."

Scout snorted. "Yeah, right, ya don't let anyone in there alone."

"Special circumstances, mate. They shouldn't be takin' advantage of you just because you lost a bet."

His tone was a little more serious than Scout thought was necessary, but he shrugged and took the favour. "Hey, thanks, you're a good guy."

"Jus' don't touch anything." The marksman told him firmly, but his posture was more relaxed.

"What, like your jars of piss? No thanks!"

This time, they both laughed as Scout passed him and carried on with his escape plan. But before he could turn around the corner, the Australian's deep voice stopped him.

"Scout…by the way…ya look…"

When he hesitated, Scout rolled his eyes with a wry smile. "Stupid? Yeah, I know, but it's just one day. See ya at the match!"

With that he turned the corner, heels clicking obnoxiously long after he was out of sight.

Sniper watched Scout wander not-so-gracefully away, torn between amusement, arousal, and shame.

Stupid was certainly not the word he would use to describe the way Scout looked in the bunny costume.

The small red bodysuit was strapless and finished at the base of Scout's hips like a women's bathing suit. His long legs were clad in a pair of sheer black nylons, which made them look even longer. It didn't help that the runner shaved his legs for 'speed' or something like that; they looked so soft that Sniper had never wanted to touch something so much in his life.

Except maybe Scout's ass. The red silk hugging the plush roundness of his ass put it on display in a way that no other outfit Scout had ever worn had. The fluffy grey tail fastened just over the cleft of said ass wasn't helping Sniper's libido either.

The tempting outfit was completed by black rabbit ears, a black bow around his neck, and white cuffs, similar to those on a shirt, around his wrists.

No, the only word for the way Scout looked was sexy.

Sniper had never thought himself attracted to fluffy herbivores, especially since he had skinned and eaten many rabbits in his life. But there was something about seeing Scout dressed as a bunny that sent his blood racing downwards through his body.

Women who wore such a costume usually did it to please their man, and would pleasure them enthusiastically, putting their own needs second. To have a partner dress as a bunny was a desire of most men, Sniper included it seemed. Having someone sexy dressed as such a submissive and innocent creature while wanting to please him was too arousing to deny.

But where did Scout fit into this fantasy? Sniper had never imagined the aggressive, loudmouthed runner getting on his knees for anybody, for sexual reasons or otherwise.

But the visual of the costume, combined with Scout's surprising compliance in wearing it with disgruntled resignation at best, were causing images to form in his mind that he was certain he should NOT have been visualizing at work.

Those lean legs, in or out of the tights, wrapped around his waist. Getting Scout out of the body suit so that he could grope and squeeze his bare ass. Scout on his knees, in full costume, sucking him off while Sniper stroked his hair and the rabbit ears.

The marksman shivered a little, trying to reign in his rapidly increasing lust before he ran into one of his teammates while hard. Usually he would simply slip back to his camper and relieve himself, but in his haze of want for Scout, he had gone and sent the bunny boy there.

He wasn't about to kick Scout out, he really didn't deserve to be harassed or photographed by the team for later humilation just because he had been dumb enough to make a bet with one of the least mentally stable people on the team.

If he ever saw any of said photos, he would take them so they weren't distributed any longer, but keep them for…purposes other than blackmail or embarrassment.

Well, he had never claimed to be a saint, and it would be nice to not have to rely on his memory of Scout that day when he finally did get to jerk off.

Returning to his van while Scout was still in there was definitely not an option, and suggesting Scout help him out with his pretty mouth or nimble fingers would probably earn him a punch in the face.

Pushing off the wall he hadn't even realized he had braced himself against, Sniper decided to bypass the 'living room' entirely and find somewhere quiet to sharpen his khuriki.

The match that day was going to be tortuous in more ways than one; even if Scout didn't wear the suggestive outfit on the battlefield he knew he wasn't going to be able to get the runner out of his head.

He hadn't been wrong, Sniper thought, as the team wandered back into the locker room after the match. It had been a payload race, with each team trying to deliver an honestly excessive amount of explosives to cause some destruction to the BLU base while the BLUs tried to do the exact same thing.

However, after several minutes of stalemate, with both covering very little distance before being blocked, the RED team made the bold decision to abandon their cart entirely in favour of killing the entire BLU team, or at least enough that they would have no resistance.

It had still been a difficult fight; the entire BLU team had circled around their payload and returned fire as soon as they realized what was happening. They did their best to target Scout, which was fair since pushing the payloads was easier for him than anyone else. Despite Scout holding his own and managing to only be killed once (he wasn't wearing his costume so moving was easier), Sniper could feel the anger and irritation rising inside him the more the enemies shot at the youngest merc.

He wasn't sure where the intense protectiveness of Scout was coming from, but the Australian hung back from the team just enough to easily pick off any BLUs that got too close to the runner. The ones that Scout hadn't already bludgeoned, off course.

Ultimately they had killed enough BLUs that when the REDs rushed back to their own cart, their battered and bloody enemies didn't have a hope of keeping up, and had simply watched one of their outer buildings blow up as the rest of the team respawned.

But now that they were back in the locker room with no more fighting left to do, the Australian was on edge. A freshly showered Scout had just returned to the main area, clad only in a towel.

Sniper fought to keep his eyes from scanning the younger man's slim chest and long legs as he approached his locker. There was a very real possibility of being caught staring at Scout if any of the other mercenaries bothered to glance his way.

Thankfully, all attention was on the runner as he opened the door to his locker and pulled out something red. Before Sniper could register that the garment was Scout's usual shirt, Soldier was across the room in a flurry of patriotic vengeance.

"You had better be lifting that to get to your costume, soldier!"

Scout did not physically react, and continued to pull clothes out of his locker. "Fuck off."

It was surprising restraint considering Scout's usual rants when he was angry, but Soldier was not appreciative.

"I will not tolerate disrespect from the ranks!" He blustered. "Pyro!"

The firebug popped up from a little further down the row of mercenaries, flamethrower in hand, with an acknowledging chirp.

"Fire!" Soldier commanded, pointing at the bench where Scout's clothes were sitting. That was all the warning Scout received before his clothes were set ablaze, along with the bench underneath them.

"Hey!" The runner cried, knowing it was far too late to save his clothes. "C'mon man, I wasn't gonna put them on, I was just going to take them with me!"

"A likely story! You brought this on yourself, maggot!" Soldier bellowed as Pyro stared at the fire in rapture.

Medic raised an eyebrow coolly, despite having barely shown any interest in the entire exchange. "Vell, so much for zhat bench."

"Right, let me just-" Engineer fished about in his locker and pulled out a fire extinguisher, putting out the fire in one swift motion and placing the red can back into the locker. He had had more than enough practice putting out random bursts of flame.

Scout seemed to have realized that no one was acknowledging his struggle or the fact that his clothes had been torched, so the young American snatched the bunny costume out of his locker and stormed towards the stalls, grumbling "I hate all of you."

One or two of the mercenaries shrugged their shoulders, but no one went after him as some of the men began to filter out of the locker room, the rest still pulling on clothes or combing hair.

Due to the brutal myriad of scars on his chest, Sniper wasn't fond of undressing in front of the others, so he usually waited until the locker room emptied to shower. There was the added benefit of having the room to himself to dry off and slick back his hair at his leisure, and Sniper enjoyed the peace after the hecticness of battle.

However, that day when he emerged from the shower, he was not alone. The person currently haunting his thoughts was standing with his back to the mirror, anger clearly not diminished as he fought the straps lacing up his bodysuit.

"Come on…stupid fuckin'...argh! How do I tie this?"

Sniper glanced at the tangle of red cords on Scout's back. "Ya've got yourself in a right mess there, mate."

"I didn't do this!" Scout protested, tangling the straps even more as he attempted to do the very opposite. "Tha stupid thing's workin' against me, all I did was leave it in my locker…fer fuck's sake!"

"Yankin' on it's only going to tighten it, mate." Sniper admonished, walking quickly to his locker to find a shirt to cover his bare chest. Not that Scout was really looking, but still.

"I know that, I'm not stupid!" Scout countered.

"I didn't say ya were…" Sniper tried but the runner was still complaining.

"I just can't see what I'm doing! Seriously, why do they make these things so hard ta tie when the whole point is to take 'em off?"

Bloody hell, now he was thinking about Scout pulling the costume off his body, right then and there…or even better, in a bedroom. Yes, that was a better thought. He didn't exactly desire to fuck Scout next to the smoking remains of the unfortunate bench.

The runner, of course, was still ignorant to his dark inner thoughts, still resolutely fighting the laces of the costume. Sniper finally couldn't watch the fruitless struggle any longer.

"Alright, ya bloody bogan, stop before you get yer arms tangled. I'm gonna help you."

"I don't need help, I-" Scout's speech stopped when Sniper grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him so he was facing the mirror. Since he had put the god forsaken heels back on, the runner stumbled a little from the swift turn, but firm hands pressed down on his shoulders enough to keep him steady.

"That wasn't an offer, mate, you're never gonna get this on your own."

Oh shit. That just happened. Scout's eyes met his own in the mirror, immediately startled by just how stupefied his reflection looked. He willed himself to lose the wide eyes and rising colour in his face before Sniper looked up and noticed, but the sharpshooter's intense gaze was focused on his back.

His sunglasses (why did he insist on wearing them inside) hid exactly where he was looking, but his chin was dipped as he began to untangle the knotted red ties, fingers occasionally brushing Scout's skin.

From Scout's perspective, and anyone else watching from the front, it didn't look like Sniper was helping him put ON the costume, but the opposite. The taller man behind him made him look small in comparison, especially since Sniper still had to bend to untie the cords, and the slow drag on his breath across Scout's neck as his eyes focused on his exposed back painted a very erotic picture.

Scout found he liked it very much. An interesting development on an already bizarre day, but not an unwelcome one.

"So, uh, ya do a lotta this?"

It was a lame attempt at humor, but Sniper granted him a small, rusty chuckle as his deft fingers continued their work.

"Not nearly enough, mate. Don't see a lota boys dressed up all pretty when ya live your life on the road."

It was an off-handed comment, especially considering everyone on the team vaguely knew of Sniper's sexuality, but Scout's ears still perked up. Sniper thought he looked pretty. As he should, but it was still good info to have.

A cold chill hit his back as Sniper stepped away, hands leaving their proximity to his skin. "Ya're all good, mate."

"Wait!" Scout blurted out before the man could take his tantalizing warmth and clever hands too far away.

Sniper froze mid-turn, regarding the runner's outburst with curiosity.

"Can ya…do it up for me? Since ya're here an' all…"

Thankfully, Sniper didn't seem to notice the slight weakness in his voice, and stepped up behind him once more. He didn't have proof, but Scout could have sworn the man was even closer from the downwards tilt of his face, and how close the tips of his toes were to touching Scout's heels.

He would only need to move back a little to feel Sniper's lower body against his…Another glance at the borderline sexual image in the mirror reminded him that Sniper's lower body was covered only by a towel…shit, he was in trouble.

An embarrassing noise somewhere between a gasp and a whine escaped his mouth when Sniper's long fingers brushed over his back again, pulling the ties tight against him.

"Too much?" Sniper's breath was so close to his ear he swore the man was doing it on purpose. The runner fought a little shiver as one hand slipped between the ties to lessen the pressure on his back. More like not enough…

"No, man, I'm good." He forced out. He could feel Sniper contorting the ties into a knot, but he wasn't finished yet.

It wasn't fair that the marksman was turning him into a pile of mush when he was the one in the sexy costume! Sniper should be drooling over his hot body, not the other way around!

Under the guise of looking back at the older man, Scout arched his back and thrust his hips backwards, his ass bumping against Sniper's front as he did so.

"How's it goin' back there? Can you see?" He asked casually, giving Sniper the most innocent look he could muster.

The marksman, conversely, had turned a handsome shade of red, his hands wavering slightly as he tried to focus on his task.

Interesting.

"Yeah." Was all he got in terms of a verbal response, but things were looking good for Scout as the sharpshooter pulled away, blushing and eyes lingering on Scout's backside before he turned away.

Oh yeah, he had him now.

Seducing Sniper was turning out to be easier than Scout had thought. After he had left the marksman in the locker room, a rouge flush still painting his tan skin, the runner had clopped his way to the kitchen.

After mowing his way through a bag of chips, the costumed mercenary had dug through the pantry in search of one very specific treat. To the discomfort of everyone, he had been successful in his search, and now sat draped on the couch, reading a comic book and sucking a lollipop.

Most of the mercenaries had chosen to eat their lunches as quickly as possible in order to vacate the area and avoid witnessing the filthy way Scout was stroking the lollipop with his lips and tongue.

But unfortunately for Sniper, it was his turn to clean the kitchens, so every time he passed by the runner, Scout would pull the cherry treat out his mouth with a loud pop and stroke his tongue along it. He knew the candy was staining his lips cherry red, so he would occasionally swipe his tongue along them, peeking at Sniper every so often.

The Australian was pointedly not looking at him, but his stiff posture as he bent over the counter told the runner everything he needed to know. Sniper had a great deal of self-control (he had to, considering his profession), but it was beginning to crack the longer he watched Scout practically blow the lollipop.

And he was watching, he had caught Sniper's grey eyes scanning him from over his sunglasses multiple times before awkwardly turning away. He only wished the lollipop was longer so he could show off his awesome deep throating skills.

Maybe he should eat one of the bananas instead, especially since the fruit basket was so close to the marksman on the counter…

But before Scout could stand, the tall Australian turned around, cloth in hand, to wipe the table. His eyes avoided Scout's until he deposited the cloth on the table and began to roll up his sleeves, exposing thick forearms striped with dark hairs.

The runner swallowed thickly, meeting the grey eyes now boring into his. From the heat that was flickering in their depths, he could tell the move was intentional.

Too bad he still had the upper hand. Sure, Snipes had sexy as fuck forearms, but he wasn't the one giving a simulated blowjob demonstration. Looking the taller man dead in the eyes, Scout wrapped his lips around the lollipop and sucked, sliding the treat back and forth sensually as he did.

When his face began to tingle from the uncomfortable position, the runner pulled the lollipop out with a wet pop and began to swirl his tongue over the tip of it, occasionally giving the whole thing a long, slow, lick.

Scout wasn't even pretending to look at his comic anymore, locked into the sexy staring contest with Sniper, who was gripping the edge of the table for dear life. When he laved his tongue over the round head of the lollipop before sucking it back between his lips, a muffled curse fell from Sniper, so quiet Scout nearly didn't hear.

But evidently, someone else had.

"Zhat is enough!" Spy snapped, uncloaking next to Scout and trying to snatch the lollipop away. "Anymore of zhat and I will hose you both down!"

"Just leave if you don't wanna see-" Scout protested, but the lustful haze that had settled over the room had dissipated, and Sniper turned away abruptly, heading for the pantry nearby.

Spy straightened up, still looking perturbed, but mildly satisfied. His son crossed his arms and sulked, the lollipop sticking out of his mouth giving him the appearance of a much younger boy.

But he would have more chances to seduce the marksman, after all, it was already clear that the man couldn't resist his good looks.

Shaking off his disappointment, Scout rose to leave, both to get away from his smug bastard of a father, and to plot his next move. He would have to find somewhere mildly private to avoid having his photo taken, but if worse came to worst he could always acquaint his teammates with his trusty bat.

Spy, it appeared, had other ideas. "Mon dieu, stop, stop zhat at once!"

Scout stopped, wobbling a little, to glower at him. "Now what? If ya haven't noticed, Snipes isn't even here no more!"

"Zhis is not about ze bushman, it is about your walk! You cannot walk like zhat in zhose shoes, you're going to turn an ankle."

"Hey, it's been workin' for me for the last twenty-seven years, alrite?" As he turned to stomp away from the inferring Frenchman, Demoman wandered in, eyes slightly unfocused. He nearly crashed into Scout, who managed to avoid him out of sheer luck, and flopped against the arm of the couch.

"Hey, hey, watch it, Cyclops!"

Sniper wandered back out of the pantry, most likely to see what the chaos was about. His eyes slid past Scout completely to take in Demo's disinhibited state, and a frown crossed his rugged features.

As the marksman abruptly turned and disappeared back into the pantry, the runner swatted Demoman on the shoulder. "Tha spy thinks there's somethin' wrong with how I walk, whatta think?"

"Ack! Ya look like a wee baby deer takin' its first steps!" The Scotsman declared. "Course, that could be because of yer new shoes-thank ye lad!" He cut himself off as a loaf of bread hit him in the chest, courtesy of Sniper.

"Just soak up some of that booze before ya pass out, alroight?" The Australian nettled good-naturedly, turning to the dishes without a word to Scout or Spy, who had not been distracted from his criticisms.

"That iz as good a confirmation as I am ever going to get, I suppose. Now glide!" He commanded, pushing at the small of Scout's back.

Naturally, his son protested. "Hey, what're ya doing?"

"To avoid stumbling or hurting yourself you must glide." Spy put emphasis on the last word, pushing Scout along with him as he demonstrated. "No, don't look down, you will run into something. Look straight ahead-now glide!"

Scout was thoroughly sick of being henpecked, but due to the Frenchman's nature, he would hassle Scout for the rest of the day if he didn't at least try. And Scout didn't need his father popping up when he finally got into Sniper's pants.

With a heavy sigh, he tried to imitate his father's overly graceful movements, only to be stopped nearly immediately.

"It iz not ze Ice Capades, you do not slide your feet!"

Scout's lust frantically beat down the desire to knock Spy unconscious-appeasing him now would mean one less obstacle to Scout getting laid later. He tried again, this time lifting his feet enough that the heel didn't catch on the ground before he lowered it.

Spy still wasn't satisfied, far from it, in fact. "Do not pick your feet up, do not pick your feet up-why are you picking your feet up?"

"Because I'm getting ready to run away!" his son retorted, painfully aware of Demo chuckling on the couch next to him. "Ain't you the one who told me not to slide 'em? An' what're you laughin' at?" He hit the Demoman's arm even harder.

"I'm sorry lad," the Scotsman punctuated this with a bit of his fourth slice of bread. "But if ye could see yourself right now, you'd be laughin' too! Yer legs are all over thee place!"

He dissolved into hearty chuckles once more, and Scout caught a glimpse of a smile on Sniper's lips, even though he hadn't turned fully around. Spy looked offended that his teachings hadn't come to fruition, but Scout hardly cared about his opinion at that moment.

"Oh ya think that's funny? I'd like ta see one a you knuckleheads walk in these! Or wear this outfit! I bet ya wouldn't even last a day!"

He smirked a little as he looked down at Demo, but the man just shrugged. "Are ye sure you want to make a bet? Look how it went for ye last time." He gestured at Scout's body with the bread slice.

"Yeah, well, I-I-I still say ya don't have the balls!"

With that, the bunny boy stomped from the kitchen, clearly trying to make as much noise as possible with the offending heels. Spy shot the Australian a scathing glare as he unabashedly watched Scout's ass go, tail and all, around a corner. It was more than worth it.

His thoughts of the slim, lean torso fading into a soft, curvy ass and what he'd like to do with them were interrupted by an abrupt smacking sound and an angry shout from the hall:

"Hey, watchit, asshole, I'm glidin' here!"

Please review to push me to finish this fic and get back to our favourite married mercenaries!