fic: Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)
Jan. 30th, 2019 04:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)
Series: TF2
Character/pairing: Scout/Miss Pauling
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2827
Author's note:
Follows She's The Devil In Disguise. I didn't intend to make a series, but I think I'll call it My Girlfriend Is An Ax Murderer.
Canon typical gore!! Post Expiration Date but not associated with the current canon of TF comics.
Inspo from
this and this and this and this.
Title is a song by Nancy Sinatra.
For Sarah.
She took off her dark coat, and he hung it up in that fancy closet for her. Which was strangely empty. He figured that there'd be some fur coats, considering what this place cost. Maybe the evening crowd just hadn't come in yet.
Miss Pauling was still in an iconic purple dress, but it was kinda fancier. It also didn't have any blood, or dirt stains. Which was saying something, for her. Scout didn't know too much about types of dresses, but he was pretty sure this was called a cocktail dress. And dang did it make her curves look even better. That was a feat that Scout didn't even think possible, but there it was.
Which led Scout to thinking how this place was perfect for kissing, now that he thought about it. And getting to second base. But Scout pushed that thought aside. Because he was going to do what he'd never done for any other chick he'd banged: wait until they at least got one date in before he got any. Even second and third base were off-limits until then.
Yeah, Scout was a new man. A new man who wouldn't be touching titties for a long, long time. Love really hurt sometimes.
This was a way fancier place than he usually frequented. But considering how long this date took to come around (and the massive, and he did mean massive body count that it took to get there) Scout figured it would be worth it. Besides, he could afford it, considering that he was massively rich. He hoped they served burgers, because like hell was he eating snails.
He'd even pulled on a monkey suit. Not a literal, mascot one, mind you. Just some suit Spy had shoved at him, with a gruff here, and throw out that cheap suit of yours.
Sure, Spy was an ass, but a free suit was still a free suit.
Scout couldn't help but tug at the collar again. He was used to loose, flowing material. Sure, his ass looked fantastic in this (like always) but if he had to run, he'd probably choke himself in the process.
Miss Pauling gave him an appreciative once over, and smiled. "You look damn good in that suit. I knew there was a reason I let you live."
Scout grinned. He'd take any compliments from Miss Pauling, even if it had a threat embedded inside.
"I mean, c'mon. Like you'd be able to catch me. I'm awful fast. I mean have you seen me on the field? In fact, most of the time you probably can't, because I'm just so friggin' fast! Which is a shame for you, because seein' me battin' in skulls must be the highlight of your day--"
"Mmhmm."
She began to dig around in her purse. Maybe she wanted some gum? Scout was about to ask her to pass him along one, when Miss Pauling pulled out her gun and pulled out the ammo. Then, with one hand, as he kept on talking about how he was going to break the sound barrier any day now, she pulled at the bust of her dress. Like a freaking magnet at work, Scout's eyes went down to all that new cleavage that was revealed. H-Holy shit, she had amazing boobs. Like a ten out of ten. Her boobs were the only force capable of beating his ass--which was so amazing, it routinely defied gravity. That was totally the source of his mad jumping skills.
Suck on that, Science!
But wait, Miss Pauling also had a fantastic ass. Had he finally met his match?
He felt something hard against his chest. Miss Pauling smiled as she pointed the gun right there.
"That took less than a minute."
She clicked the gun, but nothing happened. "Bang bang," she said. She leaned in for a kiss, and planted one right on his cheek.
"See? It's through the heart. Romantic."
She had a real different definition of romance than Scout did, that was for sure.
Scout was left reeling. For all his talk, she'd totally taken him down a notch in seconds. Sure, she was tiny. But she knew her way around a gun. And that was super hot.
"It would've taken seconds, but I made sure the ammo was out first. I wouldn't point a loaded gun at you. Now, everyone else..." She trailed off, but he got the idea.
"Good. Hey, Miss Pauling, let's go get situated."
Because if they stayed in this coat closet anymore, he'd kiss her. And with how long he'd been waiting, he'd never stop. Scout was going to get through multiple dinners with this girl before he every touched a titty, even if it killed him.
*
The restaurant was real fancy. Maroon velvet drapes, long flowing tablecloths that could've made great dresses for his ma with some tailoring, and just the hint of super expensive dark wood tables and chairs he could catch sight off.
He pulled the seat out for her, something he'd read in one of those books he'd read through in those days in the march towards death. But, he'd survived to tell about it. And he was finally here, with onlydessert? Was he getting cakes or panties to the floor?
Miss Pauling let out a long sigh. "Sometimes you just want to stab someone, you know."
"Oh yeah, all the time. Though for me it's more battin' someone's head in. Like when there's this feelin' when their head totally caves in and you heard the sound of their brains sinkin' in."
She broke into a big smile, and reached for his hand. "I knew you'd understand."
"But, killin' the waiter won't get our food here any sooner," he said.
"It'd make me feel better, at least," she said.
"Oh, thank God, the bread is here," he said.
Thankfully, she didn't start hissing and crawling up the walls. Not at the bread, but the whole name of God thing. Good to know.
Except the waiter went right past them with that basket of bread. Which was weird, because the place was real quiet for a Friday night. Maybe there was somebody in the far corner that he couldn't see.
"Man, do rich fucks just come to restaurants to talk? I'm starvin' over here!"
"I didn't even eat breakfast. Or lunch," Miss Pauling said sadly. She shook her head. "I don't know, actually. Maybe they do. I almost never have time for such things," she said.
"You'd think with all that money, they'd actually eat somethin'."
"It's funny, you never lost that, ah, attitude. I mean, you're rich. Or so you keep telling--anyone who will listen."
"Well, yeah. There's the difference between somebody with money and a rich fuck, you know? Rich fucks think they're better than everybody else because they were born a so-and-so. They're snooty and stupid."
"Oh! You're talking about old money. Yeah, those are very difficult to deal with. They're always concerned with appearances. 'Oh, what will people think of us if we openly invested in an arms dealer' kind of thing. It's exhausting to deal with. Especially as they all want that gun running money, but none of them want the blood on their hands."
The waiter finally showed up, and just when Scout was about to give that fucker a piece of his mind, the asshole pulled a freaking gun on them. He'd pulled down some ski mask, so all that could be seen was a black waiter's uniform and his eyes through the gaps.
"Oh, c'mon! On my frickin' date? Do you have any idea how long I've been waitin' on this? Freakin' ages!"
Miss Pauling let out a sigh. "I just did my nails, too."
"And they look great! Lemme get this."
Scout pulled out his handgun and leveled it at that stupid fucker who'd gotten a hit job on the most dangerous couple in the entire United States--maybe even the world.
"You were a real stupid fuck to do it alone, y'know!"
Before the hitman could (what had he been waiting for?) he fell. A single bullet in the chest. Who else could pull off a shot like that? Nobody, that was who!
Okay, maybe Miss Pauling could. But she wouldn't, because that kind of death was instant, and she preferred to drag it on. Said it made it more fun. Like a cat playing with its prey, she'd only kill whoever was unlucky enough to cross her path when she got bored, or ran out of time. Whichever came first.
About ten stupid fucks aka date ruiners came out from every corner. All dressed in black, but not like ninjas, and all with matching ski masks. That'd be too cool. They'd had to be hidden away in draped and under tables at this rate. Probably listening in on his date like freaking perverts.
"Oh, it's almost fair now!"
Scout fired off shots, and dodged through the bullets like he was James Bond, but sexier.
A bullet came dangerously close to him--it tore a piece of his suit jacket, and left a red grazed wound over his arm.
"While offering to kill them for me was incredibly sweet of you, I wouldn't want you to have all the fun."
Back to back, the sound of gunfire filled the room.
"This ain't the place for snowmobilin', pally!"
He caught one hitman right in the throat, and another in the stomach. Red exploded all over their black suits, and both went down immediately, crumpled and bleeding all over the floor. Scout had never been so accurate as the minute Miss Pauling was by his side. She was like a good luck charm when it came to killing chuckleheads.
"Scout, help me here--"
It only took him a second to realize what she meant. Together, they flipped that table, and they flipped it good.
It toppled to the side in a clatter and crash of breaking plates and tossed aside cutlery. The bullets whizzed by. Others lodged deep in that wood.
Scout peered up from the shelter of their table, and fired off a shot. A gun fell to the floor, and the hitman let out a cry of pain. Miss Pauling got off a shot of her own, and this time the guy fell so fast that he couldn't even let out a shriek. Right through the heart, and Miss Pauling was to blame.
At the sight of their buddies all splattered across the floor, the rest of those chucklefucks ran out the back door. When it finally was quiet, Scout dared to speak up.
"Whoever hired 'em didn't pay enough. These are some real shitty hitmen."
"Oh, I have an idea who hired them," Miss Pauling said softly.
Scout glanced around at the piles of bodies around them. There went their big night.
"Guess I'll go get the shovel and start gettin' this cleaned up," Scout said glumly.
As much as he liked spending time with her, he really wished for a bit of time that didn't involve dead and rotting corpses.
"No. We'll just leave, and dump the weapons in the incinerator back at the base. After all, there's no witnesses left to put us at the scene of the crime. And it's a public place, so if our fingerprints are found, we've got a pretty good shot of having a decent excuse for being there."
They headed out a side door and into the night. The alley was thankfully empty as they headed back to her murder truck.
But, the night couldn't end there. That was the thought that caught over and over in his brain. He'd worked so hard and to have some chucklefuck hitmen ruin it was unacceptable. And poor Miss Pauling hadn't even gotten anything to eat the entire day.
"Ugh, those fuckers messed up my suit."
Miss Pauling laughed, despite it all. "You sounded so much like Spy then."
Scout scoffed. "I ain't nothin' like him. But if he wanted this suit back without bullet holes, he's gonna stab me in the kidney at this rate."
"I'll talk to him, I'm very persuasive. And when I'm not, there's always pliers," she said brightly.
Scout laughed at that. How could he not? She was just so witty and smart and amazing.
"Hey, Miss Pauling--You wanna grab a burger or somethin'?"
She smiled. "I'd love to."
*
Over greasy burgers, they parked that murder truck up on the lover's lane overhang. The lights of Teufort sprawled out with starlight across the countryside. Finally, even after it all, the night was starting to feel like it was supposed to.
"I've got to say, you're a really good shot. The way you took down those hitmen was excellent. I mean, you got that first one in one shot. Really efficient."
Scout basked in the praise. "Yeah, but the way you joined the party was real good too. You really know your way around a gun, Miss Pauling."
"I should hope so, or I wouldn't do my job very well," she said.
He grabbed a fry and stared out at those stars.
"I guess it wouldn't feel like a proper date without at least one dead body," Miss Pauling said.
Scout chuckled. "Probably not."
"I had a lot of fun today," she said.
"The restaurant was a total bust. Didn't even get any free bread, and got jumped by goons," Scout said.
"But we got to kill some people at least," she said.
"You get to kill people every day, Miss P," Scout said.
"But, I don't get to kill them with you," she said softly.
Under that starry night, he leaned in and took a chance. His lips met hers, and he tasted salt. The warmth filled him completely. He'd gotten to first base with plenty of girls, but kissing them never felt like this. Like everything shifted, and he'd lie, steal, and kill for her and love every moment of it. He pulled away only because he knew that if he kissed her any harder, any longer, and his resolve would fail, and they'd end up tumbling into that back where tons of bodies had been cut up for some heavy making out, or even more.
And under that beautiful sky, she took his hand. And they just stayed like that. Eating fries, and talking about work.
And really, he thought, every single moment with her was perfect. Even when people were trying to kill them, even when they had to hide the bodies of those people, and when they had to go on the run from the cops.
Though, with luck, only one of those things would happen tonight.
Series: TF2
Character/pairing: Scout/Miss Pauling
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2827
Author's note:
Follows She's The Devil In Disguise. I didn't intend to make a series, but I think I'll call it My Girlfriend Is An Ax Murderer.
Canon typical gore!! Post Expiration Date but not associated with the current canon of TF comics.
Inspo from
this and this and this and this.
Title is a song by Nancy Sinatra.
For Sarah.
She took off her dark coat, and he hung it up in that fancy closet for her. Which was strangely empty. He figured that there'd be some fur coats, considering what this place cost. Maybe the evening crowd just hadn't come in yet.
Miss Pauling was still in an iconic purple dress, but it was kinda fancier. It also didn't have any blood, or dirt stains. Which was saying something, for her. Scout didn't know too much about types of dresses, but he was pretty sure this was called a cocktail dress. And dang did it make her curves look even better. That was a feat that Scout didn't even think possible, but there it was.
Which led Scout to thinking how this place was perfect for kissing, now that he thought about it. And getting to second base. But Scout pushed that thought aside. Because he was going to do what he'd never done for any other chick he'd banged: wait until they at least got one date in before he got any. Even second and third base were off-limits until then.
Yeah, Scout was a new man. A new man who wouldn't be touching titties for a long, long time. Love really hurt sometimes.
This was a way fancier place than he usually frequented. But considering how long this date took to come around (and the massive, and he did mean massive body count that it took to get there) Scout figured it would be worth it. Besides, he could afford it, considering that he was massively rich. He hoped they served burgers, because like hell was he eating snails.
He'd even pulled on a monkey suit. Not a literal, mascot one, mind you. Just some suit Spy had shoved at him, with a gruff here, and throw out that cheap suit of yours.
Sure, Spy was an ass, but a free suit was still a free suit.
Scout couldn't help but tug at the collar again. He was used to loose, flowing material. Sure, his ass looked fantastic in this (like always) but if he had to run, he'd probably choke himself in the process.
Miss Pauling gave him an appreciative once over, and smiled. "You look damn good in that suit. I knew there was a reason I let you live."
Scout grinned. He'd take any compliments from Miss Pauling, even if it had a threat embedded inside.
"I mean, c'mon. Like you'd be able to catch me. I'm awful fast. I mean have you seen me on the field? In fact, most of the time you probably can't, because I'm just so friggin' fast! Which is a shame for you, because seein' me battin' in skulls must be the highlight of your day--"
"Mmhmm."
She began to dig around in her purse. Maybe she wanted some gum? Scout was about to ask her to pass him along one, when Miss Pauling pulled out her gun and pulled out the ammo. Then, with one hand, as he kept on talking about how he was going to break the sound barrier any day now, she pulled at the bust of her dress. Like a freaking magnet at work, Scout's eyes went down to all that new cleavage that was revealed. H-Holy shit, she had amazing boobs. Like a ten out of ten. Her boobs were the only force capable of beating his ass--which was so amazing, it routinely defied gravity. That was totally the source of his mad jumping skills.
Suck on that, Science!
But wait, Miss Pauling also had a fantastic ass. Had he finally met his match?
He felt something hard against his chest. Miss Pauling smiled as she pointed the gun right there.
"That took less than a minute."
She clicked the gun, but nothing happened. "Bang bang," she said. She leaned in for a kiss, and planted one right on his cheek.
"See? It's through the heart. Romantic."
She had a real different definition of romance than Scout did, that was for sure.
Scout was left reeling. For all his talk, she'd totally taken him down a notch in seconds. Sure, she was tiny. But she knew her way around a gun. And that was super hot.
"It would've taken seconds, but I made sure the ammo was out first. I wouldn't point a loaded gun at you. Now, everyone else..." She trailed off, but he got the idea.
"Good. Hey, Miss Pauling, let's go get situated."
Because if they stayed in this coat closet anymore, he'd kiss her. And with how long he'd been waiting, he'd never stop. Scout was going to get through multiple dinners with this girl before he every touched a titty, even if it killed him.
*
The restaurant was real fancy. Maroon velvet drapes, long flowing tablecloths that could've made great dresses for his ma with some tailoring, and just the hint of super expensive dark wood tables and chairs he could catch sight off.
He pulled the seat out for her, something he'd read in one of those books he'd read through in those days in the march towards death. But, he'd survived to tell about it. And he was finally here, with onlydessert? Was he getting cakes or panties to the floor?
Miss Pauling let out a long sigh. "Sometimes you just want to stab someone, you know."
"Oh yeah, all the time. Though for me it's more battin' someone's head in. Like when there's this feelin' when their head totally caves in and you heard the sound of their brains sinkin' in."
She broke into a big smile, and reached for his hand. "I knew you'd understand."
"But, killin' the waiter won't get our food here any sooner," he said.
"It'd make me feel better, at least," she said.
"Oh, thank God, the bread is here," he said.
Thankfully, she didn't start hissing and crawling up the walls. Not at the bread, but the whole name of God thing. Good to know.
Except the waiter went right past them with that basket of bread. Which was weird, because the place was real quiet for a Friday night. Maybe there was somebody in the far corner that he couldn't see.
"Man, do rich fucks just come to restaurants to talk? I'm starvin' over here!"
"I didn't even eat breakfast. Or lunch," Miss Pauling said sadly. She shook her head. "I don't know, actually. Maybe they do. I almost never have time for such things," she said.
"You'd think with all that money, they'd actually eat somethin'."
"It's funny, you never lost that, ah, attitude. I mean, you're rich. Or so you keep telling--anyone who will listen."
"Well, yeah. There's the difference between somebody with money and a rich fuck, you know? Rich fucks think they're better than everybody else because they were born a so-and-so. They're snooty and stupid."
"Oh! You're talking about old money. Yeah, those are very difficult to deal with. They're always concerned with appearances. 'Oh, what will people think of us if we openly invested in an arms dealer' kind of thing. It's exhausting to deal with. Especially as they all want that gun running money, but none of them want the blood on their hands."
The waiter finally showed up, and just when Scout was about to give that fucker a piece of his mind, the asshole pulled a freaking gun on them. He'd pulled down some ski mask, so all that could be seen was a black waiter's uniform and his eyes through the gaps.
"Oh, c'mon! On my frickin' date? Do you have any idea how long I've been waitin' on this? Freakin' ages!"
Miss Pauling let out a sigh. "I just did my nails, too."
"And they look great! Lemme get this."
Scout pulled out his handgun and leveled it at that stupid fucker who'd gotten a hit job on the most dangerous couple in the entire United States--maybe even the world.
"You were a real stupid fuck to do it alone, y'know!"
Before the hitman could (what had he been waiting for?) he fell. A single bullet in the chest. Who else could pull off a shot like that? Nobody, that was who!
Okay, maybe Miss Pauling could. But she wouldn't, because that kind of death was instant, and she preferred to drag it on. Said it made it more fun. Like a cat playing with its prey, she'd only kill whoever was unlucky enough to cross her path when she got bored, or ran out of time. Whichever came first.
About ten stupid fucks aka date ruiners came out from every corner. All dressed in black, but not like ninjas, and all with matching ski masks. That'd be too cool. They'd had to be hidden away in draped and under tables at this rate. Probably listening in on his date like freaking perverts.
"Oh, it's almost fair now!"
Scout fired off shots, and dodged through the bullets like he was James Bond, but sexier.
A bullet came dangerously close to him--it tore a piece of his suit jacket, and left a red grazed wound over his arm.
"While offering to kill them for me was incredibly sweet of you, I wouldn't want you to have all the fun."
Back to back, the sound of gunfire filled the room.
"This ain't the place for snowmobilin', pally!"
He caught one hitman right in the throat, and another in the stomach. Red exploded all over their black suits, and both went down immediately, crumpled and bleeding all over the floor. Scout had never been so accurate as the minute Miss Pauling was by his side. She was like a good luck charm when it came to killing chuckleheads.
"Scout, help me here--"
It only took him a second to realize what she meant. Together, they flipped that table, and they flipped it good.
It toppled to the side in a clatter and crash of breaking plates and tossed aside cutlery. The bullets whizzed by. Others lodged deep in that wood.
Scout peered up from the shelter of their table, and fired off a shot. A gun fell to the floor, and the hitman let out a cry of pain. Miss Pauling got off a shot of her own, and this time the guy fell so fast that he couldn't even let out a shriek. Right through the heart, and Miss Pauling was to blame.
At the sight of their buddies all splattered across the floor, the rest of those chucklefucks ran out the back door. When it finally was quiet, Scout dared to speak up.
"Whoever hired 'em didn't pay enough. These are some real shitty hitmen."
"Oh, I have an idea who hired them," Miss Pauling said softly.
Scout glanced around at the piles of bodies around them. There went their big night.
"Guess I'll go get the shovel and start gettin' this cleaned up," Scout said glumly.
As much as he liked spending time with her, he really wished for a bit of time that didn't involve dead and rotting corpses.
"No. We'll just leave, and dump the weapons in the incinerator back at the base. After all, there's no witnesses left to put us at the scene of the crime. And it's a public place, so if our fingerprints are found, we've got a pretty good shot of having a decent excuse for being there."
They headed out a side door and into the night. The alley was thankfully empty as they headed back to her murder truck.
But, the night couldn't end there. That was the thought that caught over and over in his brain. He'd worked so hard and to have some chucklefuck hitmen ruin it was unacceptable. And poor Miss Pauling hadn't even gotten anything to eat the entire day.
"Ugh, those fuckers messed up my suit."
Miss Pauling laughed, despite it all. "You sounded so much like Spy then."
Scout scoffed. "I ain't nothin' like him. But if he wanted this suit back without bullet holes, he's gonna stab me in the kidney at this rate."
"I'll talk to him, I'm very persuasive. And when I'm not, there's always pliers," she said brightly.
Scout laughed at that. How could he not? She was just so witty and smart and amazing.
"Hey, Miss Pauling--You wanna grab a burger or somethin'?"
She smiled. "I'd love to."
*
Over greasy burgers, they parked that murder truck up on the lover's lane overhang. The lights of Teufort sprawled out with starlight across the countryside. Finally, even after it all, the night was starting to feel like it was supposed to.
"I've got to say, you're a really good shot. The way you took down those hitmen was excellent. I mean, you got that first one in one shot. Really efficient."
Scout basked in the praise. "Yeah, but the way you joined the party was real good too. You really know your way around a gun, Miss Pauling."
"I should hope so, or I wouldn't do my job very well," she said.
He grabbed a fry and stared out at those stars.
"I guess it wouldn't feel like a proper date without at least one dead body," Miss Pauling said.
Scout chuckled. "Probably not."
"I had a lot of fun today," she said.
"The restaurant was a total bust. Didn't even get any free bread, and got jumped by goons," Scout said.
"But we got to kill some people at least," she said.
"You get to kill people every day, Miss P," Scout said.
"But, I don't get to kill them with you," she said softly.
Under that starry night, he leaned in and took a chance. His lips met hers, and he tasted salt. The warmth filled him completely. He'd gotten to first base with plenty of girls, but kissing them never felt like this. Like everything shifted, and he'd lie, steal, and kill for her and love every moment of it. He pulled away only because he knew that if he kissed her any harder, any longer, and his resolve would fail, and they'd end up tumbling into that back where tons of bodies had been cut up for some heavy making out, or even more.
And under that beautiful sky, she took his hand. And they just stayed like that. Eating fries, and talking about work.
And really, he thought, every single moment with her was perfect. Even when people were trying to kill them, even when they had to hide the bodies of those people, and when they had to go on the run from the cops.
Though, with luck, only one of those things would happen tonight.
