Sniper woke abruptly to the sound of a rocket exploding against the workshop directly in front of the grainery. He sat up and leaned away from the window for a little more cover, watching. It looked like one of the Soldiers had been down there but there was no sign of him now. Maybe he'd rocket jumped out of sight.

Spy was still asleep and Sniper felt an odd tightness in his chest as he watched the thin man curled up in his shirt. He looked remarkably human like this, something he never expected of the enemy Spy. Though his balaclava didn't do much to obscure the shape of his face, seeing him without it was odd. There was still a paleness to his complexion and blood flaking away from his lips. It was strange, but he looked like something out of an old painting.

Sniper shook his head. What a ridiculous thought.

Spy came to a few minutes later with a muffled grumble. He had an awful crick in his neck. Spy reached up a hand to rub at it and then flinched when he came into contact with bare skin. Panic flickered through him. Oh god. His mask. He slapped a hand against his cheek. No mask. No mask. What the...?

Then he remembered. The RED Sniper had cut it away. Silly thing to do, now he thought about it. The blood had been sticking it to his face unpleasantly but he still could have peeled the whole thing off like he normally did at the end of a long day's fighting.

Wait. The RED Sniper. Spy glanced up. In his mind's eye he saw the Sniper looming over, kukri and sharp teeth bared. Instead he found the Sniper sitting by the window. He looked so strange somehow, without the RED shirt on. Red was the colour of danger. Without it, Spy wasn't sure how to class the Sniper. Friend or foe?

His outline was unmistakable though. The amount of times Spy had looked out for that lean figure in the wide-brimmed hat framed against a window... Every other time he'd seen Sniper like this, he'd practically taken it as an invitation…

As Spy stirred, Sniper turned and gave him a strained smile. 'Feel any better?'

He didn't look much better, but the nap might have done him some good. Sniper slid from his perch to sit on the floor with his back against the wall. The sun was setting outside and the grainery was getting dark, the shadows getting long. It'd probably be safest if they spent the night in the grainery rather than sneaking around in the dark. The battlefield here wasn't as familiar to Sniper as many of the others.

'Probably,' Spy replied. He felt groggy still, but by now he should be heading back towards normal health. Hopefully. He'd never gone as long after an injury like that without going through respawn or getting fixed up by the medigun. This was unknown territory.

He watched the Sniper slide down onto the floor. It was such a simple movement, but such a human one. It was so easy to think of all the REDs as just backs waiting to be stabbed. He lurked and watched them often, of course, waiting for the ideal moment to strike. And boy had he seen things he regretted during some of those times. But here was the Sniper, sinking down to the floor in a way that put him at a disadvantage, made him vulnerable, while he was well-aware that the enemy Spy was in the room with him.

Spy wondered how the Sniper would react if he closed the distance between them. Experimentally, he pulled himself to his feet and made his way unsteadily over to the window. Nope, definitely not back to normal yet.

Spy let the edge of his knee brush against the Sniper's shoulder as he looked out of the window. 'Nice sunset,' he commented, watching Sniper out of the corner of his eye.

Sniper looked up at him, tiredly. 'I guess so. You feelin' any better?' He barely noticed the contact at first. Once he had, he wondered if it was on purpose. Was Spy trying to throw him off guard? Was he simply too weak to stand without support? He was unsteady on his feet. Sniper put a solid hand on the man's hip to lean against.

'You've already asked me that one,' Spy asked, eyebrows arched.

When a hand touched Spy's hips, his eyebrows furrowed. Well. That really, really wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting. Spy had thought the Sniper would instinctively shy away, not reach out a hand to touch him. On his hip no less. Well that was rather forward of him. If the Sniper was going to touch him like this, he would have expected it to have been earlier on when he couldn't get away. But really, he–

No. Wait.

Hand flat. Arm braced. No groping, no grabbing, no other hand reaching up to touch him. No lewd comments.

The Sniper was just trying to support him. The realisation derailed Spy's train of thought entirely.

He'd been a little unsteady on his feet on the way over, hadn't he? No wonder the Sniper had asked him how he was feeling again. And in response to Spy trying to mess with him a little, the Sniper had offered him further support.

It was almost sweet, really.

'I'm fine, really, bushman,' he assured, pulling away slightly from the heat of the Sniper's broad hand. 'Just looking out for robots.'

He could see vague robotic shapes off in the distance, chrome glinting in the later evening light.

'They're out there still. A distance off, but still out there.'

'Ah, yeah,' the back of Sniper's neck flushed and he dropped his hand when Spy moved away from him. His thoughts weren't on the conversation and it showed. He sounded like an idiot. He pulled off his hat, playing with the brim of it. 'You just looked a little wobbly, is all.'

Turning to look out the window with Spy, Sniper could just make out the figures of enemies in the distance. His brain immediately began calculating trajectories and looking for vantage points but that wasn't what was needed right now.

'Should we try to find our teams?' he suggested.

Spy sat down on the edge of the window sill, just out of sight of any robots that might look his way. He positioned himself so he was slightly off to the side of the Sniper, but still behind him. Spy's posture was disarming and casual but he was well aware of how close he was to the Sniper and his unprotected back. And if he was, Sniper would be doubly aware of it.

'Hmm,' Spy said, thinking the question over. His first instinct was a 'yes.' His second was a little more complicated. They still didn't know for sure what had happened yet. At least some of their teammates must have survived if the fighting they'd heard earlier was anything to go by. But if there was a chance that respawn was down, there could be a lot more of one team than the other out there. And if they found someone from the enemy team, what would there be to stop them from finishing him off once and for all?

Chances were that respawn was fine, but you didn't survive long as a spy without a paranoid streak.

Even if it was though, the bots were still out there. And then there was one other thing.

This was an unprecedented opportunity to get to know someone who he'd seen every working day for years, but never talked to. Well, not properly. Swearing, death threats and taunts did not count as polite conversation.

Spies were opportunists. Why throw away the chance to learn a little about the mysterious RED Sniper?

'As unpleasant a choice as it may seem, I think we are probably best off staying here for the night.' It wouldn't be a very comfortable night, but it could well be an interesting one. As long as the Sniper didn't decide to go and find somewhere else safe to stay as far away from him as possible. Spy was an introvert, but spending a lonely night up in this dusty attic all by himself sounded rather miserable.

'Will your teammates miss you?'

Spy's wouldn't, he was sure of that. And the last thing he needed was a RED rescue party finding him up here without any of his weapons. Would the Sniper try to defend him if that happened? Spy doubted it.

Sniper considered the question for a moment before shaking his head. His teammates were used to him being withdrawn and he didn't often join them in celebrations or even at meals. The benefit and drawback to having a camper was that he didn't have to be a part of the team except during battle, and even then he was rarely spotted by his own team except for that little red dot and exploding enemy heads.

'Nah, they're used to me disappearing.' He was sure the same could be said of the BLU Spy. Spies weren't usually the sort to be missed or chased after if they didn't come back on time. 'We'll see how things look in the morning.'

The grainery might not be the most comfortable place, but it was safe enough and Sniper had slept in worse places. He wished he had his shirt to lay down as a pillow, but he'd have to make do without. Suddenly, Sniper perked up, remembering that he'd brought some rations with him today, unsure of how late the battle would go or if he'd end up stuck in one of his sniper nests all day. He pulled out a small bundle of neatly tied butcher paper, unwrapping it and taking out a small piece of venison jerky.

'Hungry?' He turned so his back was no longer facing Spy, trying to make it seem like a natural movement, offering him the package. It put him on edge to have Spy behind him and he felt far more secure this way.

'Uh, thank you,' Spy said, hesitantly taking a piece. What even was this? He turned it over in his fingers and gave it a discreet sniff. Some kind of jerky. He took a small bite. It was smoky and chewy and not really Spy's kind of thing. He'd become spoilt when it came to food in recent years, but he still remembered what it was like to have nothing to eat at all, so he finished it off without complaint.

It made Spy wonder how long it had been since he'd last eaten something. He'd had breakfast, right? Spy couldn't quite remember. It wasn't good, skipping meals, he knew. But he had his cigarettes and his teammates were always so rowdy at mealtimes... And they always commented on how much or how little Spy ate, so he often found it easier to just skip meals. He really must work on that.

His thoughts drifted off down another path. There'd been something he'd been meaning to ask the Sniper for a while now, but he hadn't had the courage.

'Why would you help a BLU?' he asked at last. What he really meant was, 'why would you help me?' but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. He didn't want to remind the Sniper of all the bad blood there was between them two of them.

When he saw Spy check out the jerky carefully, Sniper chuckled, chewing on another piece. 'It's deer, help yourself.' He didn't mention it, but Spy looked very thin and he could surely use a bit of food.

'We're kinda working together now, aren't we?' Sniper said, around a mouthful of jerky. 'We should stick together. The two teams, I mean. Everything's kinda gone to hell.' He gave Spy a sidelong look. 'Would you have helped me?' He was pretty sure he knew the answer to that.

Spy cringed internally when Sniper asked that. He was glad he'd just taken a bite out of another piece of jerky. Unlike the Sniper he wasn't about to talk while his mouth was full, so it bought him some time.

'Depends,' he said carefully. 'If respawn was down, I'm sure I would. If it wasn't... well, I was in a hurry to find my teammates when the bomb went off. I would probably continue on with that.' It was the best answer he had to give.

Yes, Sniper was right, the two teams should be sticking together. And yes, the world had gone to hell. It wasn't something Spy had really thought about properly until now. He know, well, hoped, that if the opportunity for him to ever help a RED like this occurred, he'd take it. Not that they'd trust him an inch or be at all grateful for it, he was sure.

That was about the answer Sniper had expected. The two teams and especially him and Spy, were not meant to get along.

To change the subject quickly, Spy asked, 'Did you make this jerky yourself?' It seemed like a bushman kind of thing to do.

'Yeah, I did. Our supply trains stopped awhile ago so I've been hunting for food rather than living off canned food,' Sniper shrugged. 'Like it?'

He had to admit, he was a little surprised Spy had eaten any.

Spy's eyes widened a fraction at the news about the supply trains. So it wasn't just BLU? There'd been talk amongst his team that the REDs must have been sabotaging their supplies, stopping them coming through in an attempt to cripple BLU for some nefarious reason.

Spy's first instinct was to keep quiet or pretend that their supply lines were fine, to hide a weakness. Then he thought it over again. Keeping secrets came naturally to him, revealing them did not.

'Our supply trains have been a little... patchy too,' he admitted. Another excuse to skip meals with his team. 'It's been years since I last had jerky. I've always found it a bit of an an acquired taste, really,' Spy said diplomatically. That didn't stop him from taking another piece though, feeling a little mischievous as he did so. The movement made a couple of stray strands of hair fall forward over his forehead. It felt very odd, feeling his hair move around. He smoothed it back. Spy had almost forgotten he didn't have his mask on. Worry fluttered in his stomach again. It probably would every time he thought about his lack of a mask.

'Doesn't surprise me that you're not used to eating jerky,' Sniper smiled a little, tearing a small piece off with his teeth and chewing it. 'It's not exactly fancy, or French.'

Watching Spy with his mask off was odd, it was like they were no longer the same people who had fought all those years. They were suddenly strangers who could be kind to each other. Or at least, tolerable to each other. He knew they knew each other oddly well. He knew a lot about some of Spy's habits. A well placed jarate could keep the man away, but he could climb and crawl just as well as Sniper, get into places where Sniper was sure he'd be safe to shoot at BLUs. They had a healthy respect for each other, he'd say, even if they taunted each other often.

'Tell me, has your Soldier been blaming the lack of supply trains on a mass robot conspiracy?' Spy asked. 'Because ours is obsessed with the idea.'

'Yeah, ours has been dressing up like a robot. Haven't seen him in a couple days, they mighta caught him at it,' Sniper shook his head. He kept his distance from Soldier.

'Dressing up as a robot? Really now?' Well, you do get people who are into some... strange things,' Spy joked. He was just about to turn the question around again and coyly ask the Sniper what he was into, when he thought the better of it. The thing with Spy was that his method of getting to know people was to push at their boundaries first, to find out what really got under their skin, just so he could see what made them tick and what made them uncomfortable. With someone he was interested in, he could usually manage to do so in a careful, albeit slightly suggestive way. Mostly using innocent little comments that he could assure the other person that they were just taking them the wrong way if things didn't work out.

But the RED Sniper... Spy had no idea how to talk to this man. It was very difficult to stop himself from making the cheeky little remarks that kept popping into his head now that it was clear that the Sniper wasn't going to murder him on the spot. Spy was well aware it was all part of his own self-defense mechanism though, and that it was just threatening to come out because he was feeling uncomfortable himself. Besides, if he did make any of those kinds of comments, he was sure that the Sniper's kukri wouldn't be far away.

'I don't think it's uh,' Sniper laughed, 'y'know.' But you did really never know with the Soldier, he was difficult to predict. He was far less painful to live with than Sniper had expected, but he was loud and hard-headed. Still, he did care for the team and always seemed to want them to be happy, in his way.

Spy fished around for something to say to take his mind off of dangerous territory. 'What was the BLU Spy before me like?' he asked.

He'd been working with this particular team for around two years now, but the Sniper had already been here when he arrived. The BLU team had made vague remarks about how 'our last Spy wouldn't do/say that' but no one had ever really told him what his predecessor had actually been like, and he'd always been too proud to ask.

Sniper glanced at Spy, a little surprised. 'You didn't read up on him?' He would have figured Spy for the type to know everything about the previous man who did his job.

Of course Spy had read up on his predecessor. Italian, not French. Fifty years old when he'd retired. Divorced, no children. Good early education but no degrees. Needed reading glasses. What little information hadn't been redacted had been very dull and given him so real sense of them man.

Sniper considered how to describe the last enemy Spy, scratching the rough stubble of his jaw. 'He was–' Sniper stopped suddenly. How could he phrase this so Spy wouldn't take it as an insult? The other Spy didn't taunt, Sniper had only ever heard him speak once or twice. 'He was quieter?'

No, shit, that was no good either, Spy would take that as a sign that Sniper thought the previous Spy was better at his job - sneakier and all that. 'I mean, he didn't talk to me.'

Spy wasn't offended by Sniper's remark. Instead it amused him enough for him to let out a bark of laughter. 'Quieter you say? And I thought I could be very quiet! But that makes sense; our Soldier's told me off several times for 'fraternising with the enemy,' when he's overheard us swearing at each other. He's always told me, 'our old Spy would never do a thing like that!' but I've never actually got what he was talking about until now!'

It was funny, how vulnerable he felt admitting even such a tiny detail of his and his team's lives like this. Instinctively he reached for a cigarette, as a comforter, something to do with his hands, and as a way of creating a barrier between him and the Sniper, however small. But there was nothing there, just as he had no mask, no weapons, no disguise kit.

He'd almost forgotten he was still wearing the Sniper's shirt.

'Uh, do you want this back?' he asked.

Spy didn't want to be anymore of a burden to the Sniper, he realised. The RED had saved his life, carried him to safety, patched him up, offered him food and water and even given him the shirt off his back. He already owed the Sniper so much. He owed the enemy. It was not a comfortable thought. And it wasn't good for his pride either.

Sniper couldn't help but smile, relieved, when Spy laughed. No matter how silly he'd thought the balaclava was when he first got here, it really did make Spy seem well, inhuman. He wore a suit into battle as if he felt no discomfort of heat in the desert, and when it was stained with blood he complained only of the dry cleaning. He was wicked and cruel and clever and it had always felt as though he wasn't a real person beneath the mask.

It was odd seeing him like this; thin, blood stained, face bare, reaching for a cigarette he didn't have. That motion was familiar to Sniper, not only for himself but from watching Spy reach into his jacket for his cigarette case.

Sniper suddenly had his own, powerful craving for a smoke. He never carried cigarettes into battle. There was no point tempting himself to smoke and give away his position with the red cherry of the cigarette or the strong smell of tobacco. He'd blown Spy's head off more times than he could count merely because he'd caught sight of his cigarette's glow in the dim light.

'Nah, you can keep it. It might get pretty cold overnight.'

'Good point,' Spy replied. That was the problem with fighting in what was practically a desert. During the day, it was sweltering. In Spy's opinion, whoever had the bright idea that his class should fight in a balaclava and three-piece suit should be shot. Half the battle for Spy wasn't against the enemy, it was against heat exhaustion. That was why he favoured using a Cloak and Dagger watch. When he started to get light-headed and blurry-eyed he could retreat into one of the relatively cool buildings to recover, and as long as he stayed still, no one would be able to see him.

There'd been plenty of times when he'd been recovering in a corner, only for the RED Sniper to walk past him while searching for a new sniping spot. The RED had no idea how many of his deaths were down to Spy dragging himself to his feet to go after the nearest target just because he didn't have the energy to chase after anybody else. Of course, those encounters didn't always work out well for him. Trying to fight when you're severely dehydrated and tired and haven't bothered eating that day was not the best idea.

So days out in the desert could be miserably hot, but when night fell, so would the temperature.

'Yes, I suspect we're in for a cold night.' Then, before he could stop himself, 'We'll just have to huddle together for warmth.' It started off with Spy's eyebrows raised mockingly and a clear joking tone to his voice, but by the end of the sentence he lost his confidence and it fell flat, Spy's brain shouting at him, oh shit, no! Why did we say that? Abort, abort!

He searched around for a way to save it. 'Like penguins,' he added. Like penguins. He'd just said, 'like penguins.'

Damn, he needed a cigarette.