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Mar. 29th, 2011

Title: Anger management (First Step – Get acquainted)
Pairing: Sniper/Spy
Overall Rating: NC-17 (What is it? Is it necrophilia? No! Is it cannibalism? No! It's ordinary PORN!)
Chapter Rating: PG (I guess?)
Overall Warnings: Not beta'd, language, not too graphic violence, Angry!Sex (later on), abuse of drugs, fluff (that one I really want to keep down), probably messed up accents, arrogance (on behalf of the protagonist)
Chapter Warnings: only the latter from above
A/N: Wow, my first fic in English. If you'd like to be my beta, I'd greatly appreciate it, if you just want to correct mistakes in the comments, feel free to do so. Constructive criticism is ♥

~*~

Convincing my fellow team mates to attend the meeting I had ordered had been exhausting enough; now facing their either bored or blank expressions seriously annoyed me. I decided to start with the Demoman who already looked like he was dozing off. "Demoman, I really have no idea why they let you onto the battlefield in your drunken state. Your aim is horrible, your tactical assessments of the current situation rarely correspond to reality and you're not even aware of your immediate surroundings."

"Isn't that a bit... hard, lad?", the Scotsman replied with a grin that showed no sign of a guilty conscience.

"You didn't even notice the enemy Scout smashing your head in from behind."

He wasn't impressed in the least and took another swig out of his non-transparent bottle.

I turned to the next one of the eight BLUs. "Pyro, your performance didn't quite convince me either. If you have a flame thrower that is most effective when used from behind an enemy... why don't you even try to ambush our enemies, to surprise them with a sudden and unexpected attack?"

The addressed man – or woman, like you could tell – mumbled something behind the obligatory gas mask which I didn't understand and which I didn't care about in the least, to be honest.

"Engineer, your sentry in the inner courtyard was a nice touch – except that it didn't prevent the enemy taking the alternative route to our intelligence. Especially since it was constantly demolished by the RED Demoman, blown up by the RED Soldier, or sapped by the RED Spy."

The Texan's expression didn't waver. I had known it wouldn't, considering how patient the man was.

"Scout... I admire your footwork, but speed doesn't get you anywhere with you running into the same sentry multiple times."

"I thought the RED Engi would move it eventually!", the youngest of the others protested right away.

"Oh? Why would he do that – since it has proven so successful in blowing the same Scout to kingdom come over and over again. Every few minutes."

"I dunno, but our Engi moves his sentry all the time, too!"

"No. He builds up a new one", I explained coolly and earned myself another wave of protest which I ignored without comment. My gaze fell onto our Sniper who was already lifting his eyebrows expectantly. His glare made me a tad nervous. I opened my mouth to tell him that he was keeping a low profile, that he should support his team when it launches an offensive, that he should change locations more often in order to confuse the REDs, and maybe even more. But before I could say anything, his voice – low and calm and unmistakably provocative – interrupted my thoughts.

"Don't even think about it, mate", he said quietly.

So I skipped him and addressed the next BLU member. "Heavy, all you did all day long was nothing besides standing around somewhere and firing wildly in all directions."

"Why didn't ya get panned, too?!", the Scout whispered audibly in the direction of the Australian next to him.

"I intimidate him", was the smug answer.

For a moment I was disturbed in my line of thought. "...Well, I don't suppose that there's much more you can do. But Medic, even though it is marvellous that you two get along so well, you should also care about the rest of your team. I can understand that you want to protect your Heavy when he's under fire, however, he is under fire all day long. And when one of your colleagues is able to drag himself to you whilst both burning and dying, you ought to be there for him." Not that I spoke from my own experience. Mais, non.

"Could've jumped into the frickin' water", the Boston boy chipped in.

"That would've ruined his suit", the Sniper replied softly, but notably amused. His blue eyes didn't give me a minute's rest, even from behind his ridiculous aviators.

"Soldier, I respect you for your courage, but at the same time, I disapprove of your self-destructive behaviour. In some situations, an open attack may be the best opportunity to surprise the enemy... but when you're frequently shot down even before you reach the enemy base, the attack resolves itself. Into thin air."

"In a war, you have to face danger without hesitation!", the addressed barked aggressively. "You will not turn my battlefield into a camp ground! When you kill a man, look him in the eye!"

How would he even do this with his helmet on, I wondered silently. "It's noble of you to think this way – you're alone with that opinion, though. The enemy thinks different." I looked at each of the eight pitiful BLUs one by one. "Gentlemen, we have been overrun. We haven't succeeded in capturing the enemy's intelligence, let alone taking possession of it. At the same time, the REDs created a bloodbath extraordinaire in our base. But as of now, the tune is going to change. Such a crushing defeat must not happen again."

"Who do ya think y'are, believing that ye can order us around?" The Sniper again. Naturally. Right at the beginning I had realized that he would be a pain in the backside. The Scout was harmless, he had a big mouth and that was it. The Soldier could be persuaded by tactically logic arguments, no doubt. The others wouldn't oppose me. But the Sniper... he hated my guts. This morning, he hadn't even welcomed me as I had arrived in this godforsaken place.

"Blutarch Mann himself has commanded me to straighten you chaotic bunch of mercenaries out", I answered matter-of-factly. "And I will straighten you out. I suggest that you co-operate with me because if not, you could blow it with your employer. Not to mention myself." They could deal with me, I didn't doubt it. But they would not mess with me and Blutarch Mann. Not even the Sniper, he was too intelligent for that. Not that I had read his record more attentively that those of the others. Mais, non.

"That means we gotta get pushed around by you whether we like it or not?", the Scout grumbled and nervously knocked with his baseball bat on the edge of his chair.

"No. That means that I'll push you around should you not follow my advice."

"Blackmail. We're off to great start here, Spy. Sounds like a relaxed working atmosphere."

The Sniper was starting to get on my nerves. His gaze alone irritated me. "From now on, I will be the one in charge."

"Good. 'Cause the new ones are in also charge of doin' the dishes, boy", the Engineer said with a soft voice. The Demoman almost choked at this and didn't quiet succeed in hiding his laughter.



"Ils sont des ploucs, ici. Ah c'est énervant!" I cursed under my breath while I ruined my top quality gloves in the dishwater. It has been a week since my arrival. An agonizingly long, lousy, unsuccessful week. It didn't matter what I said, the other team members seemed to forget it the second I had uttered it. I once had warned the Soldier that the RED Engineer was guarding his sentry and thus was able to repair it on the spot, and he had spent half the day trying to blow it up. To no avail, of course.

They only remembered my words when they could twist them. I recommended staying under the bridge to our Medic so that he wouldn't get shot by the RED Sniper. Two seconds later, he ran out and earned himself a headshot. As I confronted him, he reacted indignantly and accused me of ordering him to heal the rest of our team, especially when it was burning. That Pyros stopped burning by themselves after only a short while, didn't occur to him.

Worst of all was the Sniper. Nonchalantly, he ignored every word I said in his direction; he got up in the morning, went to his usual spot, accomplished a few headshots who were hardly worth mentioning, and left again in the evening. It almost made me jump out of my skin, he wouldn't let himself be convinced of the fact that he could be of more value to us on the battlefield itself. Or that it was sensible to change his position from time to time.

"C'est un connard, ce tireur embusqué, un vrai con."

"I figured the French were too charming to curse to themselves."

It was difficult to withstand the urge to roll my eyes. The Sniper leaned against the stove beside me and wordlessly looked at my hands. If he was to say anything about the fact that I was wearing gloves while doing the dishes, I would take them off and beat him round the head with them. "I figure Australians are too ignorant to know anything about the French."

"It'll be hard to find any friends with yer attitude, mate." There was no gloating in his voice, it had been a statement and nothing more. But the fact alone that it came from him got under my skin.

"I did not come here to find any friends, thank you. I came here to reorganise this team and I will do exactly that."

"Aren't ya mouthing off a bit, mate? Although... ain't that what ye French are accustomed to, especially when dealing with men?"

"Va te faire foutre", I muttered.

"I don't know any French, but I can guess what you just said wasn't really nice." He took one of the towels that were scattered around and started to dry the cleaned dishes. I stopped for a moment to look into his face. He didn't return my gaze and instead watched his own motions absentmindedly. There was no spite in his expression, only... earnestness.

"I'm thinking of asking our Engineer to construct a gear which transmits our voices via radio so that we can stay in touch across the battlefield." I didn't know myself why I told him of all people.

"So that you can tear us to shreds right away when we don't act according to yer plans – without being present."

"Exactly."

"Sounds good."

I almost dropped the last plate. I didn't buy his attitude change, I didn't buy that he had suddenly decided to bother about the 'new one' (how I was still called and how I would always be called because you only lose that title when someone new joins the team and Blutarch Mann had said I'd be the last one) and be nice to me. "Do you want anything from me?", I asked sharply.

"What should I want from you, mate?", he answered calmly.

"You need to show a little more effort before I jerk you off."

The Australian showed me a lopsided grin. "Someone whose face I've never seen? A guy, to top it off?"

"Why are you sucking up to me?"

"Are all ye Spies that paranoid?"

"Sine qua non. A good Spy is paranoid and a bad Spy is dead after half a day."

He began to put the dried dishes into the cupboards and I helped him. It should've been the other way round. As we were finished, I turned to leave. "Don't wanna be fussy, but a simple 'thanks' would be enough."

A moment I struggled with myself, then I produced a quiet 'merci'. It didn't quite cause the reaction I had intended.

"Is that a reason to insult me? Listen, mate, if you wanna-"

"It means 'thank you'!", I snarled. We stared at each other angrily.

"I said I don't understand French!"

"But 'merci' you should know about, at least! Ignorant bushman."

"I know two sentences and that's enough for me."

"Ah. Is one of them 'voulez-vous coucher avec moi', by any chance?"

"The other one's 'rien ne va plus'."

My skin crawled at his accent. "Please do me the favour and never talk in my mother tongue again. It pains me physically."

"I could say the same to you, mate – we're in an English-speaking country, stick to English!"

"Should you ever visit France, which language will you be speaking?"

"English, o' course. But only because I can't speak French! Who claimed I wanted to visit France anyway?!"

It was almost delightful how much he got worked up. He stood directly before me, the anger visible even through his ridiculous orange sunglasses, the corners of his mouth turned downwards and his posture indicating that he was shortly before wildly flailing around. "Should I teach you some French?", I replied and before he had the chance to react, I grasped the back of his neck with one hand, pulled him towards me and shoved my tongue into his mouth. He bit, but only as a warning and not seriously – or else I wouldn't have had a tongue anymore.

I had expected either resistance or approval, but not both at the same time. As the nails of his right hand were dragged over my cheek – over my skin and over my mask –, his left hand found its way to my waist, where it stayed harmlessly. His slick muscle fought with mine, pushed it away or pressed it against his teeth. While I tried to choke him with my tongue, my other hand wandered to his neck. Our breath – which was rather unsteady at this point – mingled, his hat fell to the ground and my mask shifted a little and our kiss (I somehow refused to call it like that because a kiss meant trust and romance and a funny feeling in my stomach, but the only funny feeling now was his thumb pressing into my solar plexus, and romance wasn't the same as trying to tame a furious cat, and trust – oh do I even have to start?) didn't break until we both saw stars before our eyes.

My hands released themselves from his neck, he removed his hands from my body and we both made a step backwards. He had marks on his neck that – luckily – were only barely visible and his lip was bleeding (and I didn't ask myself when that had happened, because the coppery taste was still lingering in my mouth), but his nails had left bleeding scratches on my cheek. Not to mention the fact that my suit was rumpled.

"That's the kinda French I know about", he said quietly and would have sounded as smooth as usual, if he hadn't been slightly out of breath.

"Va te faire foutre", I repeated since I couldn't think of anything better to say. As if I'd won our admittedly ridiculous verbal duel, I turned around and strutted out of the kitchen.

Now my only problem was finding an excuse to tell the other BLUs, should they ask about the scratches.

~*~

tbc~
Oh, and this is going to be long. And smutty. ♥

Comments

( 1 ♥ — Leave your ♥ )
ssrobajo
Mar. 30th, 2011 12:55 am (UTC)
Nice first chapter! I'm looking forward to more.
( 1 ♥ — Leave your ♥ )

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