#TUMBLR STOP SNIPING ME IMPOSSIBLE CHALLENGE

[howdydarling]

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[kiruuuuu]

Kapkan/Glaz oneshot in which Glaz implicitly makes a bet with Kapkan. (Rating T, fluff/humour, ~2k words) - You might’ve come across this snippet on my AO3 here, under 1.5! I’ve never posted it on tumblr before but as I’ve written a second part, I figured it’s easier to have both in the same place :) Enjoy!!

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A whip crack resounding in the thick summer air, slicing through heavy humidity and echoing off in the distance. “You son of a wet noodle”, Glaz breathes softly and furrows his brows, squinting disapprovingly through the scope to find his target undisturbed, gently blowing in the wind.

“You curse like a girl”, Kapkan tells him without looking up from his small sculpture. It’s not entirely clear what it’s supposed to be, but if Glaz had to guess, he’d have said a mixture of Sledge and a tragically disabled aardvark. Kapkan has recently picked up the hobby of carving and is still in the honeymoon phase, as the rest of Spetsnaz likes to call it, meaning he genuinely believes it’s going to work out and refuses to accept any criticism. It usually lasts two weeks, then the five stages of grief begin until the Russian finds a new hobby and delves into it head first.

“Didn’t you hear Mira when she dropped Montagne’s shield on her foot?”, comes a laconic remark from the side, “Cursing like a girl is a compliment.” Tachanka lies poured onto a sun lounger, ironically so since he wishes nothing more than to escape the heat. The ice in his glass of water has long melted and normally he wouldn’t grace the younger operators with his presence at these temperatures, were it not for the remnants of the stink bomb that Smoke accidentally detonated in the base. Sun is easier to stomach than a stench so bad it made even Smoke himself gag.

“This shot is impossible.” Glaz sits up annoyed and searches for the scarf without the help of any magnification, doesn’t find it – unsurprisingly. Kapkan has tied it somewhere onto a tree and Glaz uses it as practise, though it seems Kapkan overestimated his abilities when he chose their spot earlier. They usually spend the afternoons together, only Fuze absent today.

“Nothing is impossible”, Kapkan objects and almost hacks off his middle finger. Watching him usually gives Glaz mini heart attacks. “You’re just not trying enough.”

His patience is waning. He’s been attempting the shot for almost an hour now, adjusting for wind and distance and whatnot, and is almost at the point where he declares defeat. He’s sweaty and hungry and the steady bitching from the old man and the irregular sounds of Kapkan chipping away at his abomination are getting to him. “Oh yeah?”, he snaps back without meaning to. “Why don’t you try it then?”

Astonishingly, Kapkan agrees. He shouldn’t, he’s always been terrible at sniping and it’ll be a wonder if he doesn’t take out Tachanka’s lukewarm water instead. “What’s the closest thing you’ve hit?”, he asks and drops his carving into the impressive pile of not-quite sawdust at his feet from which he might never rescue it again. Maybe that’s actually the plan.

“Trunk of the tree it’s tied to”, Glaz replies and doesn’t care that he’s pouting now. He dislikes being bested, often refuses to even allow for the chance – he knows Kapkan won’t make it, yet the mere thought of it is distasteful. He stands up and stretches his stiff legs, can’t suppress a yawn and gestures for his teammate to take his place behind his rifle.

“I don’t know why you’re even trying”, Tachanka mumbles what everyone’s thinking from behind his oversized sunglasses. He’s yet to move a muscle since he’s taken up post on the sunbed.

“Don’t underestimate me.” Kapkan wiggles his eyebrows at Glaz (who merely returns his gaze unamused) and lies down on the cool dirt floor. He’s wearing a simple t-shirt that flatters his toned arms and rides up a little while he’s making himself comfortable, exposing a pale strip of skin unmarred by the merciless sun. Glaz is not staring. He’s not.

“You’re not going to make it”, he points out and crosses his arms. No answer from Kapkan who’s lining up the shot. “If you make it, I will literally suck your dick.”

It’s a phrase that’s basically lost all meaning during the few weeks they’ve used it, Fuze overheard it from Mute maybe or Rook and turned it into the ultimate dare, the others adapting and jokingly repeating it every time one of them attempts anything vaguely impossible. So far, no one has managed. Glaz steals some of Tachanka’s water while Kapkan wastes the first bullet. It’s not going to happen now and in a few weeks they’ll start using a different inside joke and –

“You’d better come see this”, says Kapkan and there’s something in his voice that makes Glaz’ stomach drop abruptly. He almost spits out the water and wastes no time in joining his fellow countryman on the ground, pushing him out of the way and checking the scope. He realises too late that it’s going to be a prank that he fell for again, as he usually does, and that Kapkan will begin laughing at him any moment now. Only… no one is laughing.

There’s a hole in the scarf.

Glaz blinks, not comprehending what his eyes are telling him. He’s acutely aware of the uncomfortably warm body next to him and his own breathing and the innocent words he’s uttered without thinking. There’s no chance he’ll ever live this down. “You’re fucking kidding me”, he whispers because he can’t help himself.

“There you go, use grown-up swears.” Kapkan sounds highly amused. “You know what this means, right?”

“No way in hell did he make the shot”, Tachanka slurs from his deathbed.

“He fucking made the fucking shot.” Glaz is furious. Mostly at himself for not accomplishing what Kapkan managed first try.

“Ooh, sounds like someone needs to walk off the rage”, Kapkan continues teasing him while wearing a shit eating grin that does nothing to alleviate Glaz’ frustration. “We can go to the shed to get some water, I’m dying of thirst. Want us to refill your glass, ‘Chanka? It’s probably at a nice kiddie pool temperature at this point.”

“With less piss”, is Tachanka’s only reply and so Kapkan takes it, pours the water into the nearest bush and repeats meaningfully: “ ‘Less.’ ”

They walk back to ‘the shed’, a tiny hut in the woods not far from the base containing various tools, chairs and a sink with running water that’s pleasantly cool even in this season. “I can’t believe you made it”, Glaz grumbles on the way, shaking his head. “How did you even – you couldn’t have –”

“But I did, and isn’t that a shame.” Kapkan holds the door open for him and if nothing else has made Glaz suspicious until now, this gesture undoubtedly should. His alarm bells should be going off full force. Yet all he does is ponder the impossibility of Kapkan’s feat, whether he’s made any glaring mistakes himself, whether he should take apart his sniper rifle to find the reason. “Do you want to get it over with right away?”

His thoughts grind to a halt. He stops. Turns towards Kapkan and finds the door to the tiny building shut and the Russian frightfully close to him. “What -” His voice breaks, he averts his gaze, tries again. “What are you talking about?”

“You said it yourself. You can’t back off now. A deal’s a deal.” Kapkan sounds reasonable, which is the worst thing about it, he’s reassuring him and makes the outrageous demand seem sensible.

“You’re not serious.” The I hope is implied though Glaz can’t bring himself to voicing it. His thighs are growing weaker by the second. This is another joke. It has to be.

“I’m deadly serious”, says Kapkan and he does seem sincere – though he’s an excellent liar when he wants to be. “You’re not one to shun a challenge, are you?”

He pictures it. For one glorious second, he toys with the idea of just yanking down Kapkan’s pants right here and is overcome with a heat wave not only induced by the stuffy air in the shed. “I didn’t mean it”, he insists, “you’re pulling my leg, you know I didn’t mean it, don’t be so…”

“If you really want to do it, you’d better get on your knees.” Kapkan is entirely unbothered by his words, smirking and placing a hand on Glaz’ shoulder, but what really constitutes the last straw is that his thumb brushes over Glaz’ collarbone in a gesture that is entirely too familiar and, most of all, suggestive. He opens his mouth to protest and doesn’t expect the push and his legs buckle and suddenly he’s kneeling on the dusty floorboards, his eyes level with Kapkan’s belt.

Okay. Sure. He can salvage this. His dignity has only suffered a little. Kapkan doesn’t know Glaz is half-hard right now and in this position he’s not going to find out either. Convenient, really. “I’m not going to suck you off.” He enunciates each word clearly in case Kapkan decides to be hard of hearing all of a sudden. “You’re being ridiculous. Where is this even coming from?”

“Look, do you want me to tell everyone that you never really did Sledge’s dare? Huh? I’ve kept quiet as a favour but I could -”

This is when Glaz understands. Kapkan facetiously blackmails people all the time, threatens to enlighten the world about Fuze’s showering habits if he doesn’t stop stealing his food, tells Smoke he’s going to expose his contraband hiding spots whenever he refuses to cease his current shenanigans (which is always), it happens a lot. What most people don’t know: Kapkan is usually not joking. Not really.

Just like he isn’t now.

Their gazes are locked, Kapkan’s considerably less confident than a few seconds ago, he must’ve realised his blunder, must know he’s betrayed himself. He’s looking down at Glaz like a trapped animal, ready to lash out or flee and chooses the second option, switches to the first when Glaz instinctively reaches out and grabs his trouser leg, keeps him in place. They scuffle briefly and hardly with any force behind it and somehow Kapkan loses balance and stumbles and one of his hands lands on the back of Glaz’ head and the next thing he knows is that his face is pressed into Kapkan’s crotch.

All he can think is: Oh.

Because there’s something quite obvious denting his cheek.

The door flies open. “You almost hit me holy shit what are you two doing?!” That voice unmistakably belongs to Fuze who’s standing in the doorway in casual clothing plus a handgun by his side and looking like he just ran a marathon, of which Glaz takes note after Kapkan panics and shoves him away so he’s again able to see something other than the seam of Kapkan’s trousers. To his knowledge, Fuze is supposed to be somewhere completely different while dressed completely different.

You almost hit me. Fuze has a gun for no apparently reason. Together with the guilty and fantastically sheepish look on Kapkan’s face, it’s easy to connect the dots, so Glaz starts laughing. Fuze looks utterly lost by now. “You didn’t fucking make the shot”, Glaz wheezes and would double over if he was standing. He’s dying to know how Kapkan managed to convince Fuze for his participation. It’s an impressively elaborate plan just to coerce him into doing something he would’ve done voluntarily and might’ve done regardless hadn’t Kapkan wounded Glaz’ brittle pride with the claim of sniping better than him.

He can hardly stop giggling, especially when faced with Kapkan’s stony face and the mumbled “let’s never talk about this again, alright?” and Fuze’s dumb ignorant expression. They gather a few chairs, fill up water bottles and Tachanka’s glass and refuse to answer any of Fuze’s increasingly irritated questions.

When they’re about done, Glaz turns to Kapkan and tells him with a bright smile: “You could’ve just asked, you know?” Leaving him to figure out what to do with that information, he steps out of the hut into the sweltering sunshine.