fic: Somehow Familiar
Nov. 8th, 2015 02:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Somehow Familiar
Series: TF2
Character/pairing: Sniper, Engineer.
Rating: PG
Summary: Engineer has a guest at his campfire.
Word count: 824
Author's note: for VampirePaladin in Trick or Treat 2015. Mick comes from a custom figure of Sniper, and I've made it my personal canon Sniper name instead of Mun-dee Mundy.
Dell always liked the scent of of a night campfire. Warm black coffee, the burning wood and earthy smell was a comfort that would linger with him long after they'd returned to matches and far off cities. Crack open a can of beans, pull out his camping gear, and he'd be set for the night.
Even if he could hear a wolf's howl in the distance, a sentry would keep out anything that might cause him harm.Spies never came around these parts. Always too worried about getting their suits dirty. For hired killers, those spies sure were the prissiest snobs around.
The desert was quite a sight at twilight, all shades of rust and bruised purple. And when the stars came
He could deal with waking up to sand and cactus spines in his shoes for just a bit of piece and quiet. Of course, he'd find those even in the towns and cities around here. That was just the kind of payment they got for tangling with the badlands.
Just at the edge of his vision, he saw camper van come to a stop. Mick stepped out, and kicked the front wheel. Even in the half-light, Dell could see the tatters of his clothes, old touches of another day at war, another wound and another scar to find.
Same battle, different day.
"Engine trouble?" Dell said.
"Bet that bloody Spy's been puttin' his sappers where they don't belong again," Mick spat out.
"I know that feelin'. You wanna warm up by my fire? I got enough canned beans and beer for two," Dell said.
Mick hoisted his sniper rifle over his shoulder. The keys strapped to his belt jangled as he walked out of the dark, and towards Dell. He wasn't a man of many words, though he'd said enough to tell his name once.
Which was saying something, as that man didn't trust anyone.
"You went and got yourself a new scar," Dell said.
Mick touched to his face cheek, and let out a noise of disgust.
"Spies," he said.
"I hear you. Just today, that backstabber went and put that horrible sapper that makes my sentries unpack themselves. He didn't even go after me, just kept laughin' from the shadows like some varmint picking through trash. Every time I'd shoot at the air until I was out a clip, then while I was reloading, he'd go and do it again."
"Cowards," Mick muttered. "Nothin' I hate more than one of them bloody spies. Cowards, the whole lot of them."
Dell took a sip of beer. "I don't have enough light to work on that. I packed pretty light. It's too far to set up a teleporter to make it back to base."
"Nothin' to worry about. I can stay 'til mornin'. Got enough to last," Mick said. He motioned towards his backpack. Several empty jars hung from it, along with extra ammunition and food that bulged the pockets.
Dell looked up as he took another sip of beer.
"Well, I'll be. We're under Orion," he said.
"Didn't take you for someone who takes stock in the stars and those star signs."
"Naw. This is just history, is all," Dell said. "It goes way back to ancient times. The Greeks believed that a giant fought a giant scorpion. He went off braggin' about how he could beat all the animals, so the gods punished him."
"Sounds like someone I know," Mick said.
Dell chuckled. "I guess you get that sort every era. Though we ain't had any lightning bolts come down on him, yet. We just got a bunch of that sort with all the Australium goin' about."
Mick looked up to peer at the sky. "It ain't everyone. I'd rather shoot my next target than go around punchin' up bars and startin' fights."
"Well, you have a good appreciation for a gun, that's all," Dell said.
Mick smiled just a little. Dell only saw it sidelong. Seeing Mick smile was a rarity. He didn't let down his guard that much around anyone.
Or anyone else, at least.
"Don't see how a clump of stars could be a fish or a giant," Mick said.
"They had some imagination, those Greeks," Dell said.
Mick nodded. "Probably because they hadn't invented guns yet. Didn't have anythin' to do but make up angry gods and sit around and talk. No wonder they kept goin' into caves and questionin' reality. If they went and named stars like that nowadays, it'd be 'man punches bear.'"
Dell chuckled. "I guess you could say it's a good time to be alive." He held up his beer in a silent toast to the blood spilled, both to past and future. Mick raised his own bottle and clinked them. Each old ritual had fascinating ends and old rituals. Things to scare out spirits and appease gods.
But these days, men just built big enough guns and sent those mother-hubbard of wizards, ghosts or aliens back to the place they came from.
Mick took a long sip and gazed up at those stars like they might impart some kind of secret. Dell watched him, the angle of his jaw, the wiry frame of him, lean and harsh all in one. He nodded to himself and looked up as well, to see just what had caught Mick's eye, and what answers he'd found.
Sometimes silence was as telling as words.
Series: TF2
Character/pairing: Sniper, Engineer.
Rating: PG
Summary: Engineer has a guest at his campfire.
Word count: 824
Author's note: for VampirePaladin in Trick or Treat 2015. Mick comes from a custom figure of Sniper, and I've made it my personal canon Sniper name instead of Mun-dee Mundy.
Dell always liked the scent of of a night campfire. Warm black coffee, the burning wood and earthy smell was a comfort that would linger with him long after they'd returned to matches and far off cities. Crack open a can of beans, pull out his camping gear, and he'd be set for the night.
Even if he could hear a wolf's howl in the distance, a sentry would keep out anything that might cause him harm.Spies never came around these parts. Always too worried about getting their suits dirty. For hired killers, those spies sure were the prissiest snobs around.
The desert was quite a sight at twilight, all shades of rust and bruised purple. And when the stars came
He could deal with waking up to sand and cactus spines in his shoes for just a bit of piece and quiet. Of course, he'd find those even in the towns and cities around here. That was just the kind of payment they got for tangling with the badlands.
Just at the edge of his vision, he saw camper van come to a stop. Mick stepped out, and kicked the front wheel. Even in the half-light, Dell could see the tatters of his clothes, old touches of another day at war, another wound and another scar to find.
Same battle, different day.
"Engine trouble?" Dell said.
"Bet that bloody Spy's been puttin' his sappers where they don't belong again," Mick spat out.
"I know that feelin'. You wanna warm up by my fire? I got enough canned beans and beer for two," Dell said.
Mick hoisted his sniper rifle over his shoulder. The keys strapped to his belt jangled as he walked out of the dark, and towards Dell. He wasn't a man of many words, though he'd said enough to tell his name once.
Which was saying something, as that man didn't trust anyone.
"You went and got yourself a new scar," Dell said.
Mick touched to his face cheek, and let out a noise of disgust.
"Spies," he said.
"I hear you. Just today, that backstabber went and put that horrible sapper that makes my sentries unpack themselves. He didn't even go after me, just kept laughin' from the shadows like some varmint picking through trash. Every time I'd shoot at the air until I was out a clip, then while I was reloading, he'd go and do it again."
"Cowards," Mick muttered. "Nothin' I hate more than one of them bloody spies. Cowards, the whole lot of them."
Dell took a sip of beer. "I don't have enough light to work on that. I packed pretty light. It's too far to set up a teleporter to make it back to base."
"Nothin' to worry about. I can stay 'til mornin'. Got enough to last," Mick said. He motioned towards his backpack. Several empty jars hung from it, along with extra ammunition and food that bulged the pockets.
Dell looked up as he took another sip of beer.
"Well, I'll be. We're under Orion," he said.
"Didn't take you for someone who takes stock in the stars and those star signs."
"Naw. This is just history, is all," Dell said. "It goes way back to ancient times. The Greeks believed that a giant fought a giant scorpion. He went off braggin' about how he could beat all the animals, so the gods punished him."
"Sounds like someone I know," Mick said.
Dell chuckled. "I guess you get that sort every era. Though we ain't had any lightning bolts come down on him, yet. We just got a bunch of that sort with all the Australium goin' about."
Mick looked up to peer at the sky. "It ain't everyone. I'd rather shoot my next target than go around punchin' up bars and startin' fights."
"Well, you have a good appreciation for a gun, that's all," Dell said.
Mick smiled just a little. Dell only saw it sidelong. Seeing Mick smile was a rarity. He didn't let down his guard that much around anyone.
Or anyone else, at least.
"Don't see how a clump of stars could be a fish or a giant," Mick said.
"They had some imagination, those Greeks," Dell said.
Mick nodded. "Probably because they hadn't invented guns yet. Didn't have anythin' to do but make up angry gods and sit around and talk. No wonder they kept goin' into caves and questionin' reality. If they went and named stars like that nowadays, it'd be 'man punches bear.'"
Dell chuckled. "I guess you could say it's a good time to be alive." He held up his beer in a silent toast to the blood spilled, both to past and future. Mick raised his own bottle and clinked them. Each old ritual had fascinating ends and old rituals. Things to scare out spirits and appease gods.
But these days, men just built big enough guns and sent those mother-hubbard of wizards, ghosts or aliens back to the place they came from.
Mick took a long sip and gazed up at those stars like they might impart some kind of secret. Dell watched him, the angle of his jaw, the wiry frame of him, lean and harsh all in one. He nodded to himself and looked up as well, to see just what had caught Mick's eye, and what answers he'd found.
Sometimes silence was as telling as words.
