Scout grimaces, for it takes three flicks of his finger for the coiled ash clinging to his cigarette to land with a soundless thump against the dirt. He hopes, for the sake of appearance, that his comrades, with whom Scout has the pleasure to enjoy this designated smoking break with, think nothing of his hesitancy—or rather his obvious scrambles to hide the nebbish attempts at leaning back carelessly against the wall, fingers jerking quickly as his cigarette threatens to slip from between them.
The left corner of Scout's thin mouth tugs upward, eyebrow cocked as he surveys Jane in his cycle of lethargic drags. Dmitri too blows smoke from his cigar, and Rick, their Engineer, blows slight smoke rings in tiny whistles between his teeth, dragging a finger lazily in the dirt.
'So this is how it was, huh? This is what it's like out here, smokin' with them'
Scout sighs, taking in another pull of nicotine, though barely holding the scorching smoke in his cheeks before blowing it back out again. To him it seemed pretty damn stupid; was it really worth it, standing right outside of the BLU base, lying across from RED's? Every second they stood out there, uninterested, disengaged, and unarmed, they risked death. Though they were a civilized (the term is to be used rather loosely in this case, however) myriad of men who all held the ethics of war close to their persons, it only took one instance of abandoned morals on RED's behalf to obliterate the docile BLUs. Scout wouldn't have blamed them, they would deserve it, putting on such an inadvertently mocking display for their enemies.
Though of course Jane's insistence that BLU's base would remain a smoke free environment was held up in accordance to whatever other laws the man took upon himself to enforce. Jack, Scout notes, had always smoked when he felt—then again he also did so in the comfort of his own van. Still, Scout had been by his side in the past to bear witness to the Australian scoffing at the young man's comrades, proudly proclaiming that RED's base doubled as a giant ash tray, considering the only one of them who didn't smoke was their Scout—and even then it was only for health reasons.
"Aw, shit, it went out—hey yo, Jane, can I see your lighter again?"
The others glare at Scout as if the brief interruption of their silence had personally doused and snapped each of their smokables in half. Regardless, Jane hands the young man his plastic, fluorescent yellow lighter in one heavy handed gesture.
"Yeah, yeah, thanks."
Jane—or no one else even—says nothing; Though Scout commands attention of their disgruntled gazes as he still stands with an unlit cigarette after six attempted flicks of the lighter.
"No, no—ya gotta use the side of your thumb!" Jane growls, and in one fluid demonstration a small flame flickers before Scout, the young man sticking his cigarette into the fire with widened eyes.
Scout attempts to mutter a thank you, but the clutch of smoke on his lungs chokes him instead, thus rendering him only able to settle on with appreciative wave of his hand instead.
"Come to think of it, you don't usually smoke with us, do ya, kid?" Rick asks quietly.
Scout's cheeks redden as he looks directly upward at the sky, answering the man's question with a silent shake of his head. "You even takin' the smoke in, boy? Looks like you're just swishin' it in your cheeks then flingin' it back in the air! 'S waste of a good cigarette!" Rick chuckles, the other two indulging in slight laughter as well.
"Hey, how 'bout you mind your own business, alright?!" Scout bends over, crushing the filter into the ground and entering the base without another word.
-
It wasn't such a good habit to get lost in; certainly not if its indulgence involved Scout sneaking out of his base during evenings to enjoy a cigarette without the watchful criticism of his well smoked comrades.
He'd stolen a pack of Sniper's cigarettes some two weeks ago. Scout had decided to try the habit himself, just once; Sniper'd always seemed so calm when he had one in his mouth, the look giving him an aura of well versed and knowledgeable maturity. The way he'd lean back and his eyes would close behind his sunglasses before his lungs would give way and expel the smoke back into the atmosphere…
He'd always remembered his mother complaining the way Luc would give her a kiss after smoking, but Scout rather enjoyedthe taste the residual tobacco left behind in Sniper's mouth. The smoky undertones that enhanced their make out always aroused him, for some reason, as if it gave Sniper even more of a presence, impact, definition.
Scout had even timed it so; as soon as the filter hit the tray he'd crawl into Sniper's lap, and within seconds his tongue was poking in between Jack's teeth, begging for entrance. Sniper would grant him his wish, and Scout would find himself lost in the taste of the Australian.
"'Hm; I wonder what Jack would 'ave to say if 'e were to see you enjoying such a 'abit…"
Scout groans audibly as the frame of his stepfather stands before him, a gentle smile resting upon his unmasked lips.
"Fuckin' creep, how long you been watchin'?!"
"Oh, you are actually going to grant me zhe 'onour of responding to me; not long, to answer your question—I was only just enjoying a nice stroll—"
"Without your mask on?!" Scout raises an eyebrow, and Luc bellows a hearty laugh before ignoring him and continuing.
"And I zhought I saw you here, hidden outside on zhe side walls of your own base. I noticed a small flame, and told myself, 'surely Lawrence isn't smoking!', but clearly, you are—"
"You got somethin' to say about it?!"
"Actually yes, a 'andful of zhings; Zhe first zhing I suppose being zhat it does work to, er, en'ance zhe bad boy image I suppose it is you're going for—"
"I ain't goin' for no fuckin' image"
"Zhen why are you doing it?!"
"I dunno, just—bored," Scout shrugs.
"You're letting it burn wizhout purpose, standing 'ere chatting away—"
"And who's fuckin' fault do you think that is?! I didn't fuckin' ask you to stop and talk and me, fuckin' asshole! Don't even think about sayin' shit to nobody neither!"
"Who exactly do you zhink I would say shit to?"
"I dunno..." Scout begins quietly, eyes darting to the side as they tear up from the smoke rising from the cigarette's end. "Ma or somethin', I - I guess..."
"Hmph - you mean you are grown enough to smoke, but not if Mommy finds out?"
"Fuck off,"
"One can always expect the maturest of responses from you, Lawrence..."
"Well, I mean it,"
"I never said you didn't," Luc sighs heavily. "As a matter of fact I 'ardly dispute it. If you didn't mean zhings, you never would 'ave landed yourself zhe criminal record zhat brought you 'ere in zhe first place - don't 'it me now, Lawrence!" The Frenchman growls somewhat hastily, motioning away from his stepson, who assumes a defensive stance the longer their eyes stay connected.
"The fuck is it you want from me, Luc -"
"'onestly, I'd like to know just 'ow long you 'ave been breaching your contract and fraternizing wizh Jack -"
"The fuck you know about him?!" Lawrence gasps, eyes wide and spherical, illuminated with iridescent shock and hesitant surprise. Luc watches the young man as he sputters, silent overall, though allowing his cocked auburn eyebrows to express that what his thin lips need not to.
"Well, zhere goes your last chance to deny 'aving anyzhing to do wizh 'im -"
"I never said I had anything to do with that fuckin' cockfag!"
"Not zhat I would 'ave believed you -"
"The fuck's he got to do with anything?! The fuck you even know about him?!"
"What shouldn't I know about 'im as a Spy zhat also 'appens to be 'is colleague?!"
"You know what I mean -"
"Nozhing, 'e just - 'e just let it slip zhat maybe you two 'ave been 'arbouring a secret and 'ighly complicated friendship since your arrival 'ere at 2Fort?" Luc chuckles, his eyes narrowing in mock pleasantry as they observe Scout's agitated pacing about the length of the steel wall.
"Let it slip?! Good goin', Snipes..."
"Do not take it so personally, I am only curious..."
"About what?!"
"Where you two are planning to take your friendship?" Luc asks with such innocence one would think the Frenchman meant to coax out of the young man a confirmation of performing a strenuous favour on his behalf.
"Who the fuck even said we were friends -"
"Well, Jack did," Luc grunts, Lawrence's tensed features actually letting up as his disgruntled mind settles into the peace he slowly starts to regain, churning the words about mentally in a cognitive tumble until he finds himself able to formulate an appropriate response.
"He said that, huh?"
"Said what?"
"That we were friends..." Lawrence inquires quietly, bringing the extinguished stump to tap against the edge of his index finger, silent as if he once again grew lost in the turbulence of his own ecstatic mind.
"Somezhing like it - it was certainly news for me," Spy begins a good thirty seconds later, followed by a curt clearing of his throat.
"That's cause it ain't shit that don't concern you and it ain't shit you need to know," Scout immediately snaps, hoisting his back from off the wall, his eyebrows furrowing inward moodily.
"So then I suppose I don't get to figure out just 'ow your unlikely friendship came to be?"
"Maybe it ain't shit I really feel like tellin' you; maybe it's shit that don't even involve you anyway..."
"You say zhat, but I'm pretty sure as your stepfazher I can claim a stake in your wellbeing, non?"
"I don't understand why you gotta get in my business, though..."
"Well, I'm watching you smoke your little life away, for starters, not to mention zhere is zhis whole new development of your cross factioned comraderie wizh Jack Mundy..."
"Forget about it - I'm done," Lawrence spits, tossing his butt into the sandy dirt before turning curtly on his heel.
"'E said you told 'im you loved 'im?"
"FUCK OFF, LUC!" Scout roars, the Frenchman shrugging sheepishly.
"I ain't never said I loved him, I'm not a fuckin' fag," Scout stutters quietly, his reddening cheeks not going unnoticed by his vigilant stepfather.
"No, of course not -"
"I'm done, Luc,"
"Well alright, Lawrence, I'll be along my way, but—are zhose my cigarettes?!" Luc gasps suddenly, wrenching the crumbled pack hanging from Scout's pockets, tucking them into his breast and glaring at the young man.
"Nah, they're - they're Jack's..."
"Hm—'e snatches packs from me on occasion 'imself,"
"And?"
"Maybe zhe next time you decide to breach your contract to visit 'im, you can tell 'im I do not appreciate it,"
"Who gives a fuckin' shit what you think?!"
"Look at my skin, cher, zhis is what zhirty years of smoking will do to it,"
Scout scoffs, for not a single pore upon the man's handsome face is blemished, save by the wrinkles and faults middle age has wrought upon his profile. No, his blue eyes are clear as always, his long, pointed nose having neither shrunk nor grown. His forehead is not splotched with any sort of bumps or oddities, his sandy blonde hair well kept as always.
"You look a fuckin' mess—"
"Exactly, so put it out before Jack sees you—I imagine you'd get more zhan a talking to from 'im,"
-
Spring was always Scout's favourite season; even more so now that he could spend their nights together with Sniper, whose back rests against the camper's exterior, the warmth settled and darkness masking their coupled escapades. Scout'd always be on the brink of dozing off, comfortable in his spot on Sniper's lap, the Australian's arms wrapped tightly around him. He'd still manage to bring the cigarette in his fingers to his lips despite his hold on Scout, the young man's nostrils flaring as he takes in the left over smoke his body has been growing to crave over the last couple of weeks.
He hadn't counted on addiction.
Digging discreetly into Sniper's pocket, the young man produces a cigarette for himself, twisting in Sniper's embrace and lighting the end of his cigarette with Sniper's, though the man doesn't notice, for his eyes are closed. Scout takes a drag of the cigarette he holds in the corner of his lips, taking the brim of Sniper's slouch hat into his hands and pulling it over the man's still concealed eyes.
"Put it out, love."
Scout's heart starts pounding, and he is most certain he hadn't heard the Australian correctly; he had a tendency to mumble in his thicket of an accent…Scout takes another drag regardless, leaning forward and lifting the hat back up, blowing the smoke teasingly in his face. "You little shit—can't believe you'd pick up somethin' like that—'s terrible for your health, 'nd you ain't gonna be able t'run your way outta bed if you keep it up—"
"Fuckin' hypocrite," Scout snaps, snatching the man's cigarette and tossing it in a powerful throw.
"HEY—!" Sniper sits up quickly, glasses dangling off his nose, absolutely murderous as he meets Scout's self pleased smirk.
"It wasn't anywhere near out, mate!"
Scout sticks out his tongue, grimacing and yelping as the older man tugs on it.
"Put it out b'fore I put you out, mongrel," Sniper warns the young man who still sits in his arms. Scout laughs softly, gazing right into the other's eyes as he releases another defiant puff. Lawrence laughs outright as he tumbles to the ground, Sniper wrestling on top of him in an effort to pull the cigarette from between his lips.
"You're in a right playful mood t'night..." Jack begins, chuckling softly. "Playful enough t'let me hold y'like this,"
Thus spoke Jack the magic words. It is with the Australian's statement that Lawrence comes to realise he truly had been complacently affectionate for the entirety of their evening together. He wriggles free from his prison of arm hair and unorthodox Australian scents, catching his feet, and slipping the cigarette from in between the corners of his lips in order to pincer it at his side.
"What? 'S nothin' wrong with bein' friendly! Dunno why y'always gotta shy away from your feelin's..."
"Right, 'cause runnin' your hands up my shirt is just friendly, Jack," Scout rolls his eyes.
"I mean, y'were enjoyin' it before I said somethin',"
"Maybe next time you shouldn't say nothin' then..." the young man retorts haughtily, groaning from indignant surprise as Sniper stands himself, taking his time in approaching Lawrence before snapping the cigarette nonetheless.
"Yeah, how d'you like it?! If I catch ya smokin' again, it'll be you I'm gonna snap in half! Where'd you pick up such a habit, anyway?!" Sniper asks indignantly, takenaback as Scout rolls his eyes, simply producing another cigarette from his hip.
"Australia."