Scout whimpers slightly, twisting his frame that lies trapped underneath the comforter, the faint scent of the man left behind upon the pillow's surface a sedative against Scout's wired state of consciousness. He hooks the feathered cushion under his arm, cradling it gently, as if it truly were an extension of Sniper's physical self.
The lightning cracks again, and Scout counts a silent three seconds before the van rumbles briefly again from thunder, everything streaked in an electromagnetic sheen of white, even if it is for hardly a moment.
Scout, who'd been lying in the enclosure of his friend's mattress since having snuck his way into the van earlier that afternoon, releases an aggravated sigh as the van hits another pot hole, sending the contents of the camper in a succinct airborne fit of anchorlessness.
'When was Sniper gonna park the damn thing and come to bed?!' Scout had to scoff and blow a few strands of sleep tossed light brown hair from his eyes, sitting up and wrapping his arms around his knees.
Scout had snuck into the camper, taken a shower (though it was far from anything like home or even 2fort, the mobile bathroom less than accomidating than Scout would typically have it), fixed himself a bowl of cornflakes, doodled a bit in his colouring books (he had some crayons stashed away in his bedside back at 2fort), and even began a crude sketch of Luc without Sniper once parking and actually entering the trailer.
Scout doesn't necessarily mind his timing, for it had given him the whole afternoon to dwell on the monologue he would recite to the man the instant his hand touched the knob and the door would swing open. It was already well into evening and Scout had refrained from turning on the lamp, afraid the Australian would see its glow in the rear view window and assume the presence of a hostile invader lingered within his abode.
Maybe if it caught his attention...
"Aw, gross!" Scout hisses as his foot catches in the still damp grey shirt and trousers he'd worn the duration of his day in the heavy rain, wiggling the clammy garments off his toes and stumbling toward the small bedside cabinet and reaching for the lamp.
The air within the van is cold, though is Scout adorned in nothing but a pair of briefs, for earlier it had been much more toasty. Scout's suitcase sits with unclasped hinges in the middle of the floor, articles of clothing sticking from its edges, the luggage a bulging mass of unceremonious disorganization.
Seeing the clothes however motivates him no more to actually put some on, the Bostonian actually enjoying the freedom swirled hand in hand with ambiguous nudity.
He cracks his lower back before slipping back under the covers, sinking into the mattress and letting his eyes flutter shut. He slips his arms around the pillow again. He sighs as the images of Mikhail's large palm sliding along his doctor's cheek from earlier serve as an intellective reference for the tightness of his own grip, the speed and feel of his palm along the surface.
They still had plenty of time to figure themselves out, Heinrich claimed. Their relationship was only just beginning...
How would Sniper react if Scout were to just hold him so, silent and overcome by the magnitude of emotions he harboured for him?! Scout loved him, he really did, even if he'd spent the last year denying it with irrevocable words of hatred and vicious blows—
He presses his lips against the pillow, completely lost in the delusion of the fabric and it's serene role in Scout's hallucination.
If only it truly were Sniper's lips, if only he really was tangled in the man's bed side by side with the hunter. Scout hoped Sniper would return his affection with warmth of his own—it would only make sense two lovers would want to engage in the other. Washing away the events of the day, the anger and the argument, Scout, for once in his time knowing Sniper, didn't care how it made him appear; to start it all over anew and begin it all again with a look in his eyes Sniper can't deny, with intentions he can't refuse...a chance to tell Sniper that he loved him was all Scout wanted. Things would change. They would be different.
-
"...Musta left the bloody light on..."
Scout, awoken by the gruff mumbles of the Australian, shifts not at all, but rather lifts his napping lids to catch a glimpse of the absolutely beat man before him. Sniper removes his dark green thermal shirt, tossing it in apathetic exhaustion. He turns the light off in the middle of his waltz about the room, Sniper placing his hat and glasses on the bedside and stretching his arms about his head.
His toned abdomen catches Scout's fancy, and he follows the contraction in his hips caused by his stride with fiery eyes; the broad back seems to tower endlessly from Scout's view, Sniper's hands slipping the trousers from his waist and revealing a maroon pair of spandex boxers that left very littleto the imagination...
Scout sinks in the covers, both from a sudden wave of arousal and as a way to conceal himself. The man scowls as he steps on the soggy clothing still left without purpose on the floor. "What in the bloody—?!" the man snarls, flinching and picking the grey shirt up in between his thumb and forefinger, his features jutted in a face of disgusted bewilderment.
"Fuckin' Lawrence, leavin' his damn clothes all over the place..." Sniper throws it into a small hamper Scout presumes is for dirty laundry, the older man shaking his head over the slacks as well, the pants flung in the same fate.
"What'n the Hell...?!" Sniper grimaces, taking notice of the headset and grey cap resting near the mattress, twisting the accessories delicately into his hands and studying them before looking about nervously.
"Love musta forgotten 'em," he concludes, and Scout burns with furious curiosity over the intriguing question if Sniper was overcome in this moment with a terrible guilt at leaving him by his lonesome.
"Hope he's alright," he whispers, settling the boy's headgear onto the bedside cupboard next to his own, Scout sitting up gently, the covers slipping off his lean frame with a literal metallic smoothness, almost as if they were made from liquid silver.
Sniper, whose back is still turned to the American, cracks his back and grabs a toothbrush from one of the drawers, slipping away for a few moments' time to finish up his nightly routine.
Scout laughs darkly at the comment, never having known someone who would throw someone they claimed to care aboutout in hostility on the side of the road with nothing and no means of contact - and then wonder sincerely that they wereokay, at that.
Scout's feet fall lightly against the floor as he makes his silent way toward the sitting room of the camper, the whole van cast in darkness. The door to the bathroom creaks open and Scout can hear the pressure of Sniper's feet against the floor as he heads back to the bedroom.
Scout chuckles internally as he wonders what Luc would think of his sneaking skills as he tip toes behind the Australian. Hedoes stop in his tracks, grimacing slightly, slowly turning his neck in an attempt to catch a subtle glance behind him—
"GAARGH—SHIT—!" Sniper jumps as Scout captures him from behind, one arm wrapped securely around his waist, the other swirled at his collarbone, causing a slight arch in Sniper's frame that forces his backside to brush against Scout's front.
"Better than ever, slugger—" Scout grins wildly in his ear, tightening his his arms in a constricting wrap.
"S'alright, I ain't no Spy—"
"Lawrence, how in the bloody Hell—?! What—?!" Sniper gasps, twirling from the young man's grip and baring his teeth in an aggressive glare at his captor.
"How in the fuck did y'get in 'ere?! I thought I left your sorry arse out in the woods—!"
"I'm a fuckin' Scout, Snipes, catchin' up is what I do! Told ya you couldn't ever outrun me!" he snaps, Sniper looking him up and down.
"What're you doin' in your bloody undies, just walkin' around the camper—!"
"Hey, you were the one that gave me a key, dingo!" Scout shrugs. Sniper grimaces as Scout strides past him, inviting himself back into the bedroom. "Don't give people no keys if you don't want'em in your van!"
"How in the Hell did you—?!"
"I already told ya, Jack, I don't care of you gotta week's headstart in a fuckin' rocket, you ain't gonna get rid o'me! Might take a thousand years, but it's gonna fuck you up when you see my ass smilin' at ya from the fuckin' moon—"
"Bloody mutant," Sniper spits, Scout's arms folded and his grin insufferably cocky.
"Well y'made a mistake comin' back, posey, 'cause I ain't lettin' ya stay—"
"Hey Snipes, hear me out!" Scout whines, his brow wrinkled in teary eyed frustration.
"I wanted to say I'm sorry, wombat—I shouldn't a never said those things to ya—"
"You?! 'Pologisin'—?!" Sniper chuckles, casting the boy a disbelieving grin.
"I know, dingo, so you know I mean it if I'm over here kissin' your ass—"
"You jus' expect t'whisper a half arsed sorry for bein' an insufferable little dick after the way I completely sacrificed this week just so I could make y'happy?! I'm doin' everything this week for you, mate, 'nd you sit there treatin' me like shit! You're bloody mental if y'think I'ma fall for the tears, love—"
"Hey now! If you don't let me stay I'll tell my team you kidnapped me and tried rapin' me and leaving my mangled body in the forest!"
"Y;blackmailin' me now kid?!"
"Not—I mean, not really, but I'm tryin' to say I'm sorry!"
"Gettin' your arse ditched in cooee'll take the 'tude right outta ya, eh love?!"
"Whatever—"
"It'll change a tune right quick,"
"What're you sayin', Snipes?!"
"Y'wouldn't be the least bit sorry I hadn't left ya! You're lucky I don't have a mind to set you out right here 'nd now!"
"Hey maybe you're the fuckin' prick, Jack, I'm standin' here tryin' to say sorry and you're still actin' butthurt!"
"Maybe y'should've gone somewhere else, then,"
"Hey, if I could come back once, I can do it again—shit, I still have no idea where we are! But seriously, 's not your fault Luc is a fuckin' prick, and I shouldn't'a taken it out on ya—but at the same time, you were tryin' to pin some shit on me too, so you ain't in the right neither!"
"Maybe not, but it's my van, so in the end I'm about as right as any'o us're gonna get!"
"Alright, yeah—"
Sniper walks away, leaving Scout behind to ball his fists and emit a frustrated groan.
"Please, man—seriously," Scout glares, his features locked in an iron display of sincerity.
"I'm tryin' to tell you how I feel here, and you're just bein' a fuckin' prick!"
"Right, 'cause you always lend a listenin' ear whenever I try t'seriously tell y'what I'm thinkin',"
"I ain't never left you on the side of the road with no clothes, food, or money—!"
"'S a first time for everythin',"
"Fuck you, if you're not gonna give me the fuckin' courtesy to at least hear my apology then I'm leavin', I don't have time for this shit—"
"The door's on the right,"
"Seriously, anywhere is better than here—"
"THEN WHY'D Y'COME RUNNIN' BACK, EH?!" Sniper snaps, and Scout, who contemplates silently on his answer for a full minute, sighs heavily before he simply braces himself to say it.
"'Cause I love you, Jack—I love you so much, I really do..." Scout whispers, and he can see a stirring in Sniper's posture, the corners of his lips softening at the sight. The older man's back tenses, straight laced, threatening to snap as if his spine had been replaced by a metal rod.
"The bloody Hell'd y'jus' say-?!"
"I know I said some terrible shit, but I mean it when I say I want nothin' more than to be with you this week; if that weren't true, I wouldn'ta come back. If I could catch up to you, I coulda gone anywhere else, too. But nah, I came back here, foryou,"
Sniper sighs, unfolding his arms.
"Did y'really jus' say—?"
"That I love you?! Yeah, I did," Scout finishes his sentence shortly.
"Luc just—he gets to me, alright?! He said some shit, and..." but Scout trails off and Sniper pulls him into a gentle embrace, Scout's arms instantly curling around his neck.
"Y'got t'mean it, love..." Sniper whispers, and he can't help but smile at the illumination that saturates Scout's features.
"I—I do; no tricks, man. I know I always told ya to fuck off in the past, but I mean it; I love you—it—I mean I always knew we were friends and shit, we were always messin' around and bein' dicks but when you saved me, I—I didn't know what it was, Snipes, but I really—I fell for ya," Scout nods, intrigued by Sniper's curious expression.
"So then what's up?! You love me back or what—?!" Scout questions shrilly.
"'Nd before I let you stay, you're gonna need to 'pologise to the van; she didn't like those comments o'yours 'bout'er bein' shoddy—"
"I'm over here, confessin'n shit, 'nd you want me to apologise to a fuckin' car?! I might as well make love with your fuckin'toaster, too—"
"Oi, you didn't jinx the toaster!" Sniper growls, Scout's expression softening with interest.
"She was workin' fine 'til you ran your little mouth—'bout'n hour after I left your skinny arse she broke down near a diner—spent the whole afternoon tryin't figure out what was wrong! Finally got the van runnin' again and I was starvin' by that point!"
"Look, I wasn't tryin' to be mean when I called this thing a deathtrap, I was just tellin' ya that if we died, it was your fault!"
"'Course it is, 's always my fault,"
"Look, I ain't sayin' nothin', but—"
"'Nd you aren't gonna be stayin' nowhere either if you don't say sorry t'the van!" Sniper glares, Scout rolling his eyes before uttering a pouting "my bad..."
"But nah...seriously," Scout mumbles, bringing his hands to Sniper's shoulders and craning his shining eyes so that they reflect off the steeled ones of Jack.
"I'm sorry, Jack—f'real," he nods, edging closer to the unresponsive man before him. "You know I wanna be with ya this week, I was just pissed off—people're allowed their moods, man..."
Scout scratches behind his neck, waiting a moment before glaring back up at the marksman.
"Look, if you ain't gonna forgive me then...!" Scout snaps, Sniper saying nothing and rummaging in his clothing drawer, producing a pair of linen pajama pants and clothing himself accordingly.
Sniper scoffs.
"I made ya this, just in case the sorry didn't work..." Scout whispers, slipping a piece of paper in the man's hands, and Sniper unfurls the folded construction paper, immediately resisting the urge to laugh as two simplistic renditions of themselves stand in each other's arms with before a coniferous backdrop, the camper van depicted as well.
"Just a visual addition to my apology," Scout shrugs, Sniper smiling smally and placing the drawing on his bedside. "I had some time to kill while I was waitin' for ya t'find me in here..."
But Scout falls silent as Sniper brings his hands to his cheeks, Scout frozen, and his eyes are so wide with anticipation as he gazes at the Australian man, his mind dipped deep in a petrifying wonder as Sniper stands before him. Sniper grumbles before kissing the corner of his lips, Scout's eyelids dropping as a large hand rakes through his hair, lips smacking gently against his own, Scout's whole body numb.
"I can't stay mad at you, love..." Sniper whispers, Scout assuming the lacivious role and kissing the man, Sniper leading him into the bed by his hips.
"And it bloody kills me."
Scout grins haughtily, sliding in between the man's legs and snuggling against him.
"So can I stay?" Scout asks meekly, Sniper pulling Scout so he lies on top of him, heaving chests pressed together.
"Only if you behave..." he growls, his hands running down the boy's back.
"'Nd lay off the van."