Work Text:
Simply saying he had a headache was a bit of an understatement, and the sunlight peeking in from the window blinds hitting him directly in the eye was definitely adding to it. It’s what had woken him up in the first place, actually opening his lids made it worse.
He used his hand to shield his face as he swung his legs over the bed… if you could call it that. The blanket he used was kicked to the bottom of the bed, probably in his sleep, and as for the pillow, god knows where that is.
Sweat clung his clothes to his skin, now he knows why the blanket got ever so abused. It wasn’t even all that hot out?
Climbing down from his bunk, he had trouble simply just getting his footing for a moment when he stepped on the missing pillow. When his van stopped spinning, he took off the slept in shirt that was now drenched in cold sweat. As he tossed it on the floor (he can wash it later, he wasn’t in a good mood to remain tidy at the moment) the man grabbed a fresh work shirt from a somewhat neatly folded pile nearby.
Seeing he felt less icky, he could properly start his morning. Even though his routine was slightly messed up, it doesn't mean that it should ruin his day. The man checked his watch, realising he to some degree, slept in.
In his usual morning routine, he gave himself at the very least two hours to get ready. One for himself (because that early in the morning, no normal person is awake) and the other to get ready for work.
The way the day started, doesn’t look like he could get through it without coffee.
For a moment it seemed things were taking a turn for the better… till he remembered the coffee maker in his van was busted. Since the morning sleepiness just wore off at that absolutely heart wrenching discovery, he remembered he still needed Engie to take a look at it today.
He brought his watch over to his face again, already forgetting the time. Still not too late. If he just popped in and out of the base really quickly, maybe nobody would notice enough to want to talk to him.
Snatching his hat and glasses off the table and putting them on, he stepped out of his van heading towards the base.
It was relatively quiet when he closed the door behind him, which would be relieving if not the time and usual sleep schedules the team had.
CRASH!
There it is.
He turned the corner to the kitchen.
“Alright, who did it?” Engie said, tapping his foot impatiently.
Scout immediately pointed an accusing finger at Pyro, standing next to him.
“Mph mphh!” They mumbled in an angry tone.
“Scout, nobody else but you tries to stack up glass cups for fun but you, son.” He pointed out, stepping aside to open a small closet door that contained cleaning supplies.
Turning around, he shoved a broom and a dust pan into the boy's hands.
Scout sighed, accepting this treacherous fate of cleaning up after himself.
Sniper took the chance to nonchalantly slide into the kitchen, making a beeline towards the counter where the coffee maker was located. A harsh pat on the back took him by surprise.
“Mornin’ slim! Rough night?” Engie added, taking into account how tired Sniper looked.
He opened his mouth to respond, getting a surprise coughing fit and nearly doubling over. Engie patted him on the back a couple more times trying to provide help.
“Woah you alright there?!” He looked worried, probably thinking he caused it.
Sniper held out a placating hand, “M’lright mate, probably just dust or somethin’.” He fixed his glasses that had slid down his nose.
Engie shrugged, seeming satisfied with that answer. He returned to the stove, where Sniper had now noticed that he was cooking breakfast. To be specific, classic bacon and eggs. If you looked beside the stove, on the counter a failed attempt at waffles could be seen. The machine appeared to have stopped halfway through, leaving the result of some mushy concoction.
The smell of said food made it over to where he was standing, surprisingly making him nauseous. He made a sharp turn to get the coffee over with. Though it seemed his now scratchy throat was against it.
Through his better judgement, he’d just have to settle for tea. Isn’t there a kind that has caffeine like coffee? Black tea, that’s what it was called. He opened the cabinet in front of him, taking out the barely used kettle.
“Didn’t take you for a tea kinda guy.” He heard Engie say with a chuckle from over his shoulder, “You feelin’ alright?” The last thing said was laced with a bit more concern, than just plain old banter.
“Just… changing my mornin’ up a bit. Gets borin’ if you don’t doesn’t it?” He played it off cool, knowing full well he’d stick with his day to day routine even if it killed him. He needed rhythm. He needed balance. He needed-
Sniper nearly jumped 5 feet in the air when the kettle whistled right next to him. When had he put it on the stove? No- when had he even put water in it.
Mug in hand, he poured the boiling water into the cup, “Hey where’d we keep the tea?” he asked.
“Been a while, don’t know if it’s moved but last I remember it’s in that drawer next to ya’ left arm.” He pointed for extra measure.
He slid it open, looking for the specific kind. The label caught his eye, taking it in hand and closing up the drawer. After putting the tea bag in his mug, he took it over to the main table to sit down.
A deep sigh left his mouth, straining his throat in the process. The bloody hell was wrong with him today? He rested his forehead in the palm of his hands, supported by his elbows balanced on the table.
“WOO! Done!” Scout exclaimed harshly, making Sniper flinch. Why the fuck is everything so loud? He knew he was jumpy, it just came with being a mercenary, but come on.
“Oh hey snipes, when’d you get here?” Scout walked towards the table, taking a seat right next to him.
“Few minutes ago.” Sniper mumbled from beneath his hands.
“Yeesh man- you look like death. What’d you do, get blackout drunk yesterday or sum’? Thought that was Demo’s thing. Anyways, so I got this awesome new battle tactic for today. Wanna hear it?-” Before Sniper had the chance to respond, he was cut off, “‘Course ya do, alright SO-”
Scout continued to ramble for at least 5 more minutes, before…
“GOOD MORNING MAGGOTS! WE HAVE APPROXIMATELY 30 MINUTES TILL WE RAGE WAR UPON BLU TEAM.” Soldier ever so loudly broadcasted to probably the entire base.
The man came behind Engie, giving a nice big thumbs up. “Looks like a perfect American breakfast, private!”
“Just ‘bout done too,” Engineer replied, turning off the stove. “Grab a plate and i’ll serve you up first.” He continued with a warm smile.
Soldier held up a plate happily in front of Engie, to which he flipped 2 pieces of bacon and an egg onto.
Now there were three people at the table, and Sniper wanted to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. In an attempt to distract himself, he tried to drink the tea, to his dismay it was still pretty hot and ended up burning his tongue.
However his urge to get peace was stronger, as he downed the whole cup in one go. Burning as it may feel, the tea felt like heaven on his throat.
Slamming the mug back on the table, he sat up without a word and made a pit stop at the sink. He took a thermos out of the cupboards above (Keeps some there for emergencies) and filled it with cold sink water. With that out of the way, he walked to leave.
“Hey slim, where’ya goin’? You haven’t gotten your fair share of breakfast yet.” Engie called out to Sniper.
“Yes! We need fuel to crush those sorry excuses of BLU maggots!” Soldier added on.
Sniper stopped and turned to reply, trying to come up with a viable response, “Had some toast in m’ van before I came here, so m’ not that hungry. Thanks fer offering though, mate.” He said.
He politely waved a hand as he walked out of the kitchen vicinity, deciding to stroll around the quieter parts of the base till’ they had to work.
The pain in his head and throat didn’t ease up in the slightest, and was starting to stress him out. He couldn’t be sick, he just couldn’t be. This job requires him to be at top performance 24/7, not even mentioning he under no circumstances wants to be seen as weak in any shape or form.
Sniper stopped his pace to think. With a solution in his head, he began a march to Medic’s residence of work.
He was now frozen in front of the door, now actually being here he’s second guessing himself. First of all, he’s probably overthinking this entirely and there isn’t anything wrong with him. Second, the doc’s just outright psychotic. If he told him he had a cold he’d take it as a chance to steal his organs… or something.
His hand hovered over the door about to knock, when the door opened and Medic stepped into view.
“Herr Sniper? Is there an issue?” The man's face was twisted into a puzzled expression. Sniper understands why, since the first required check-up of his employment he’s never even thought of visiting here.
“Was just wonderin’ if you had any painkillers, doc.” He said.
“Ah, so zere is an issue,” He stepped aside and welcomed Sniper to walk in. “Any particular reason?” He talked over his shoulder, while he reached for the bottle in a cabinet.
“Just a headache ‘s all, need to focus when I aim.” Sniper said truthfully, leaving out the sore throat bit.
Medic turned, medication in hand. He looked Sniper up and down, taking into account his flushed face and the slight wobble as he stood. “Blodsinn.”
“Gesundheit?” He replied, holding out his hand where Medic plopped down two pills. “Thanks mate.”
“Don’t overexert yourself today, take it slow.” He glared at Sniper, to let the message sink in.
“...Got it…” He spun on his heel to leave. “I mean it!” Medic could be heard yelling at him as he left.
The medicine didn’t seem to be helping the head pain he’d been experiencing, he became astutely aware when the administrator's voice echoed in his ears.
He tried to tune it out best he could, until someone tapped him on the shoulder.
“3.”
“Heavy asked if Sniper was alright? Looks pale.” The large man said.
“2.”
Sniper simply waved him off, hoping he wouldn’t press further into the matter.
“1.”
And so he didn’t, mostly because the battle had just begun.
Quickly he took off to find some high ground, set up and shoot safely. He soon was thankful he filled his thermos with cold water, as it was the only thing making the situation relatively better. The painkillers didn’t do jack shit for his soreness, he soon found out.
As the battle stretched on, so did his patience. Sniper kept missing his shots.
Sniper, kept missing shots.
Sure he grazed someone now and again, but his eyes kept blurring together, and louder than normal sounds distracting him in the moment. And after every one he missed, he had to move as fast as possible to another hiding spot, so as to not die a gruesome death.
“Just stand stil,l ‘ya wanker.” He whispered to himself, preparing another shot. This one was fairly easy, it was the other Sniper aiming for someone else, so he was fairly still.
He positioned his finger in preparation to pull the trigger. And…
Headshot.
‘Maybe my luck’ll turn ‘round. ’ He thought to himself.
Reloading took longer than usual, as the adrenaline of the initial kill wore off so did his energy. He needed to kill again, needed something to give him that boost.
But closing his eyes felt so right.. Just for a second, a moment. After all he’d earned it, he’s been running all over the place since the battle started without any chance to take a break.
He leaned against the crate beside him, allowing himself to rest his muscles. It didn’t take too long to drift into an uneasy rest, and nothing bad at all was going to happen to him.
His heart skipped a beat when a bullet passed right in front of him, hitting his Sniper square between the eyes. It was the fools own fault for not being aware of his surroundings.
All throughout the battle he’d heard the RED Sniper’s bullets echo from all across the map, but not once killing anyone. It was odd, unnatural even. And every time he went to the bullets' original location, the man was gone. But not this time, this time he’d be faster.
The BLU Spy lightly threaded on the sidelines to where the Sniper presumably resided, making sure as to not run into any un-volunteered flames or sticky traps on his way there.
Keeping mind not to step on any creaky floor boards, Spy quietly walked up the steps. He took out his knife, getting into position. Spy turned the corner about to uncloak and-
The Sniper was sleeping.
Sleeping.
He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, sure he didn’t know the man on a personal level being enemies and all, but he didn’t take him for a sleeping-on-the-job kind of guy. They were professionals, weren’t they?
He crept closer, feeling confident enough to uncloak. The Australian’s hat slid over his face ever so slightly, blocking his eyes.
‘Amusing.’ He thought. Maybe he should take advantage of this possibly mess with him, pull a prank of sorts? This was a once in a lifetime chance he had the upper hand over the bushman, as they were usually evenly matched. But an unsuspecting sleeping enemy, how could he not. This could be his chance to get revenge on all those times he’d been sent to respawn in the blink of an eye, all those bullets to the head, he could get him back-
Just then a sound came from the bushman, surprising Spy who was deeply wrapped in his thoughts. He sneezed, that’s what he did, but at least while sleeping he had the decency to shift in the direction opposite of Spy.
A few coughs escaped Sniper before curling in on himself, whimpering silently.
‘Ah, so that’s what’s happening.’ He came to the conclusion.
The Spy guided his hat out of the way with a finger to better see the man’s face, further proving his theory. The man had sweat clinging to his forehead, and yet was still barely noticeable shivering.
‘Still as stubborn as I've come to see, powering through a sickness are you?’ He whispered under his breath.
But now he had to make a choice, or rather just figure out what to do in general. This was his enemy, only his enemy was compromised in a way. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, would it?
As he was thinking on what to do, the enemy in question was now looking at him- barely. Spy stared back, unsure of how he would react. Rational, or like a cornered animal.
Light made its way to his eyes again, wasn’t that the job of his hat? He wanted to move it back but he couldn’t. What was that noise? No, he had to open his eyes first. What was happening? Where was he again?
His vision was a tad blurry, but at least he could see. Something blue was in front of him- or rather someone dressed in blue.
Fight or flight quickly kicked in, he shot up from the ground immediately and unsheathed his kukri. Sniper blindly sliced at the person, staggering slightly to the side. He didn’t land any cuts and rather collapsed entirely as a wave of sudden dizziness plagued him.
An arm wrapped around his torso, keeping him from hitting the ground. The Australian squirmed against the hold, trying to get away from the unwanted confinement.
Then a voice shushed him.
“Bushman, you’re going to need to calm down. You’re going to hurt yourself.” What did he expect, of course it was him.
“Put me down now Spook...” His voice wavered despite his intent to come across as unbothered and intimidating. He thrashed harder in Spy’s arms, not really getting anywhere.
“Only if you promise to one, do not fight me. And two, do not turn down my assistance. ” He said quietly into Sniper’s ear. Assistance? He’s gotta be fucking kidding.
Sniper attempted to break free of his grip a final time before accepting his fate. He went slack in Spy’s arms, letting him know he’d cooperate.
“Fantastic.” He couldn’t tell if that was sarcastic or genuine.
He let himself be guided to a wall, leaning against it as he sat. Sniper eyed the knife in Spy’s pocket, Spy noticing this.
“I’m not going to stab you if that’s what you’re thinking.” He said plainly.
“Frankly that’s what I was hoping would happen.” Sniper said as he suspiciously looked at the man.
“And here I thought you didn’t miss me.” The man said, with mocking undertones.
Sniper raised a brow, Why ain’t you doin’ your usual stabbing.”
“What is zat thing you say… ‘professionals have standards?’” A smile made its way onto the masked man’s lips.
Sniper glared daggers into the man, “Don’t you go on using my words against me.” He was about to spit more insults at Spy before anothing coughing fit came over him. He also at least had the decency to cough into his elbow while awake as well.
“So, any particular reason you came to work unwell?” Spy was now crouched opposite of Sniper, observing him.
He opened his eyes, which he had not realised he closed, to respond. “M’ not sick.”
“Ah yes, because this is a regular occurrence.” There was that sarcasm again, why was he so bloody sarcastic today?
“Can ya’ just- shut up, Spy.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the oncoming headache that the conversation was causing.
Ignoring the request, he pressured on, “Is it because you are a particular kind of stubborn? Or are just oblivious to simple symptoms of sickness. I’d go with the first option, you are a trained mercenary after all, you’re not as stupid as to be blind to such a thing, non?”
Combined with the headache and Spy’s constant rambling, Sniper threw a punch fueled by pure intent to just get him to stop bloody talking . Which of course, landed nothing because Spy easily moved to the side resulting in Sniper falling to a heap on the floorboards.
He let out a pained groan, his hands clutching his nose that he had hurt in the process.
“Are you done,” Spy was next to him. “Giving yourself new pain will not compensate for your sickness, bushman. Speaking of the problem at hand, any particular reason you’re sluggish?” He raised a brow as he asked the obvious question.
Now that Sniper thought about it, he shouldn’t have taken those painkillers before the battle. Because of it, he felt the same drowsiness one would after too many drinks.
“Our medic gave me some medicine to help with m’ headache..” Sniper tried to push himself off the ground but to no avail, his arms buckled from beneath him and he fell to the floor. The BLU Spy’s arms hooked under his own and sat him against the previous wall.
“Would ‘preciate it if you’d just put a bullet through me, it’d solve this whole bloody mess I’m in. Then again, don’t take you to be a merciful one.” The last remark came out a tad bit more bitter than he intended.
The Spy stood at the sound of the battle leaving their location, taking a look around with his back turned to Sniper, “Don’t you know respawn only fixes physical injuries? It doesn’t at all fix what your immune system is going through.”
Before he could answer, another round of rough coughing sought him out. His throat felt stingy and raw, as though it had been sliced by sharp glass.
His thermos came into view in front of him, a gloved hand attached to it. “I presume this has water in it, as you would have to be a madman to drink coffee in this predicament.” Sniper blankly stared at the offered cup before taking it in hand.
He drank a good amount before setting it down, the relief only being temporary before the knives in his throat returned.
A particular gust of wind came through the opening beside him, in return causing Sniper to curl in on himself once again to contain his body heat.
The bushman was right about one thing, he did pity Sniper. Spy knew he was an incredible mercenary, and an extraordinary shot. His methods were clean and precise, and he always got the job done. The BLU respected him in that way.
And now, the big rough and tough Sniper, most literally appeared like a shivering newborn kitten.
The Spy could hardly imagine this man, on the floor, looking like he’s about to fall over, capable of killing anyone. He almost felt a twinge of guilt- maybe he genuinely did.
“I’ll tell you what, I won’t kill you today given your circumstances. On one condition.” The Spy was now turned back to the Sniper, staring down at him.
Sniper squinted at him because of the shady offer, however making a gesture for him to continue on. “You will stay here for the rest of the battle, and will see to it that your medic is informed of your current predicament.”
“Hold on a bloody minute- I’m still just fine to fight. I won’t be taking orders from the likes of you spook.” Sniper immediately retaliated. “What does my health concern you? ‘Jus makes it an easier backstab for you don’t it.”
“Didn’t we already go over this, I myself also have standards. I enjoy a fair fight as to how incredibly surprising that information is to you, bushman. I refuse to go head to head with someone collapsing every second and sneezing at every other. You should be glad to take the offer, you don’t have to keep running around after each noticeably missed shot you take and worrying about me trying to backstab you at every waking moment, and I don’t have to concern myself with having to make sure there’s no glowing dot aimed at my skull. Mutually beneficial, is what I would call it.” The Spy kept an unreadable expression throughout his rant, hiding the concern.
Sniper barely hung onto any of the words Spy said, as his brain was shutting down when he started. He didn’t want to admit it, but he didn’t think he could even stand up at this point, let alone have to think out shots for the rest of the match.
Unwillingly, he ended up accepting the offer.
The BLU Spy nearly smiled, having thought Sniper wasn’t going to accept the terms that easily and he would have to persuade him even further.
“Now, don’t you got somewhere to be," His voice trailed off, his eyes half lidded behind his glasses. Sniper felt as though he was falling asleep sitting up. And around an enemy no less. He couldn’t help it, he was exhausted and drained.
“Yes, yes I do. Please do try not to get sick again, it’s not an everyday occurrence I make an exception for an enemy.” The attempt at a joke fell upon noticeable deaf ears, for the Sniper now laid asleep against the wall still shivering, perhaps more than before.
The Spy took a deep sigh. “Mon Dieu..” He reluctantly slipped off his jacket, wrapping it around the RED’s shoulders, before he left in a wisp of smoke as he cloaked.