#and it threw into really astonishing relief just how easy it is to be dismissive and judgmental of people who fall victim to cults

[marypsue]

I finished reading Emily Nussbaum's Cue The Sun!: The Invention of Reality TV (fantastic, densely layered, beautifully written, highly recommended) and chased it with Craig DiLouie's How To Make A Horror Movie And Survive (fun, popcorny cursed-film meta-horror) and noticed an interesting parallel.

Nussbaum talks about reality TV contestants, after the concept becomes mainstream, no longer signing up to compete simply out of interest or curiosity and ended up stunned or traumatised by the genre's artificiality and artifice. As the contestants get savvier about what they're signing up for, she repeatedly talks about them as seeing themselves - or at least marketing themselves - as collaborators with the editors and producers in creating a great show.

DiLouie's fictional director, shortly after committing (spoiler!) to slaughtering his entire cast on camera to create 'the perfect horror movie', has a line about how he thinks of the actors: "More, he regarded them as fellow collaborators."

[jonathanvik]

Starlight Dream - Chapter 6

“Are you okay?” Aiko asked, concerned as Seina approached her from across the street. Her friend was moving sluggishly and had deep bags under her eyes.

“Fine, I suppose.” Mr. Kiyojiro hadn’t been lying about pushing her until she dropped. Her entire body hurt from the countless katas he’d forced her to carry out. Worse, even in her dreams, she couldn’t escape from them, forced to continue her training even there.

Colten zipped around her head. “I’m surprised he’s even allowed you a day off considering how serious he’s taking your training.”

Seina’s fairy friend paused for a moment before brightening. “I just thought of a cool name for your magical girl form!” Seina groaned. Not this again. She was fine with just being called Seina!

After doing an elaborate circle in the air, Colten spread his legs wide. “Lotus Karate!”

“No Colten. Just no.” Seina replied without hesitation.

“Okay. That was kinda bad.” Colten replied, dejected.

Mr. Kiyojiro coughed in his fist, reminding them they were talking about someone right behind them. “You need time to rest your body, too. Besides, your training is going better than expected. You’re a real natural.”

“Sure,” Seina replied, unconvinced. Her body didn’t agree with that statement.

“So, uh.” Aiko paused, reluctant to speak her next words.

“Yes, Aiko, we will learn cool moves soon.” Mr. Kiyojiro said, reading the girl’s thoughts. “In fact, I plan to have her start sparing soon. She just needs a good training partner. I’d do it myself, but I’d rather have someone around Seina’s age. I think she’d learn more effectively with a rival of sorts.”

“You might have someone who’d be a perfect fit,” Colten said, giving Aiko a meaningful glance.

“Don’t look at me!” Aiko replied. “I’m fine sitting on the sidelines. It’s safer.”

“Well, well. You need a sparring partner? I can think of someone who’d be the perfect match.” A figure said, appearing from an alleyway for a second before screaming in pain as Mr. Kiyojiro jabbed him in the stomach and flipped him onto the ground. His victim gave a strangled cry from having the breath knocked from his lungs.

“Oh, it’s you.” Mr. Kiyojiro said, finally getting a good look at the intruder. It was the former Lotus Butcher thug Masato.

“Are you okay?” Seina asked, concerned.

Masato wheezed some more, fighting back tears of pain. “Nah, I’m fine.” He stood straight, pretending he hadn’t gotten thrown onto his butt.

Colten groaned. “What are you doing here?”

“Me?” Masato crossed his arms, giving a confident smile. “Helping you defend the world, sister.”

Seina blinked. “Sister?”

Colten snorted with disbelief. “Really?”

“That’s right, brother. I figure you need all the help you can get. I heard about your training.”

“Why would you help us?” Siena asked, giving the former thug a suspicious glare.

“Because, we are siblings, you and I,” Masato replied. “You, Colten, and I share a special bond. We’re freaks, outcasts, someone no one wants. While we don’t share blood, the bonds we’ve formed run much deeper than that.”

“What’s this, we business!? What bonds?! Don’t lump me in with you!” Seina replied, agasted.

“As your big brother, I thought it would be only proper if I assisted your training.” Masato continued.

Seina gave her bodyguard a questioning glance. “Is there anything he could teach me?”

“No.” Mr. Kiyojiro replied automatically.

Seina nodded her agreement. She’d arrived at the same conclusion. “Thought as much. I appreciate the offer, but no thanks.”

“Yeah, this guy is kind of weak,” Aiko said.

“Oh come on!” Masato said in protest. “I have years of experience!”

“How many? How old are you anyway?” Seina asked, curious.

“14.”

“Eh? 14?!” Siena gapped at the massive muscle bound man in total shock. Colten made a croaking gurgling sound and Mr. Kiyojiro’s jaw dropped.

That’s only four older than me! “You look like you’re in your thirties!”

“I’ve lived a hard life,” Masato replied.

Mr. Kiyojiro rubbed his face. “Those must have been a hard five years.”

“You’ve probably already done the math and are a little confused. As I previously said, my family kicked me out. I bet you’re asking how that adds up with the vampire’s arrival? Doesn’t this mean I was kicked out about around nine? Yes, it’s a sad tale.”

Masato blinked. “Hey! Where are you going?!” Seina and her entourage were already walking away, losing interest in whatever the former thug had to say about his past. Just because he’d stop being a bad guy didn’t mean that she wanted to be his friend.

“Hey, I know! Instead of that guy, I’ll ask around.” Aiko said. “I might find someone local who’s interested.”

“Damn vampires. If only dojos still existed, it’d make this much simpler. There’s no guarantee we’ll find anyone with talent.” Mr. Kiyojiro grumbled to himself. “Nevermind. While not a perfect solution, it should suffice.”

“Perfect!” Aiko snapped her fingers. “I’ll ask around right away!”

Hey, I might make a new friend! Seina was looking forward to seeing what training partner Aiko might find for her. During her childhood, it was difficult to make friends with children her age. Many didn’t survive, or the vampire overlords moved them somewhere else. It forced her to have mostly adult friends. If it meant making a new friend, she’d endure the repetitive exercises and sore muscles.

“You could always ask me, little sister,” Masato said behind them. “I happen to know an ancient martial art that goes back centuries! No? Fine… I’m here if you need me!”

---

“Are you serious, that’s wonderful news!” Lilha almost bounced on her feet, giddy with excitement. Luck was finally on her side.

“Make sure no one else applies. Keep a watch on this, Aiko.” Lilha told her minion. Despite being a deposed vampire queen, she still wasn’t without influence. The servant nodded, disappearing through a window.

“What is it?” Shinobu said, approaching with interest. “Have you found something that will help us kill the magical girl?”

Since joining their side, the clerk had shown a vested interest in killing their target. Lilha had worried that he’d have some compunction about killing a ten-year-old girl. But the prospect of restoring his son to life blinded him to such petty moral scruples. He’d spent many long hours in Lilha’s crummy apartment, helping her hash out their assassination strategy. They’d been rooming together as they devised their plans. He’d proven a reliable roommate.

“Yeah, that fool girl has created the perfect opportunity for us,” Lilha replied.

“Oh, really?” Takako said from Lilha’s battered old couch, looking up from her manga magazine. Her voice showed mild interest. Unlike Shinobu, however, their magical girl ally hadn’t assisted with their plans at all. She cared more about slacking off, eating junk food, and reading manga. Lilha’s loathing for the girl grew by the day.

“Yes,” Lilha replied, fighting back venom. “Seina has created an opening we can exploit. She’s looking for a sparring partner. Apparently, her bodyguard is teaching her martial arts.”

This news made Lilha curse inwardly. The last thing they needed was for their enemy to become more capable. She’d been counting on the foolish girl to bask in her power, assuming herself unbeatable. Reality, however, told a different tale, meaning they needed to plan their surgical strike even more carefully.

Takako made a face. “And you’re expecting me to join her and get all sweaty, no thanks.”

“It’s a perfect opportunity to learn more about our enemy and her weak points. If you pretend to become her friend, it will create a weakness we can exploit.” Despite her great power, Seina was an ordinary girl. The fool girl would never suspect a friend of betraying her.

“Yeah, right.” Takako rolled her eyes. “Besides, won’t she recognize me? I doubt a wig and glasses will fool anyone.”

Shinobu stroked his chin. “Actually, disguising you with my powers shouldn’t be difficult. As long as you don’t venture ten miles away or purposely ruin the illusion, it should fool her without issue.”

“No! I’m not learning martial arts! That’s so lame.” Takako summoned her twin pistols, spinning them around in her hands. “I have these. It’s more than enough.”

Lilha seethed with frustration. Why couldn’t this lazy girl understand what an opportunity this provided? She opened her mouth for a nasty rebuke, but Nier surprised her by flying forward.

“Takako.” The fairy’s tone was stern. “You saw Seina’s power for yourself. Even with the vampires’ help, defeating her won’t be easy. You can’t fight her with half-measures. You heard the vampire, she’s learning martial arts and honing her abilities. What do you think will happen once Seina completes her training? If an opportunity to increase your own power presents itself, take it. Unless you’re comfortable being second fiddle to Seina for the rest of your life.”

The magical girl’s face scrunched up in irritation. Much to Lilha’s astonishment, Takako absorbed Neir’s words. The girl had never listened to her.

“Fine!” Takako threw up her hands. “If it means beating Seina, I’ll get a little sweaty. But only a little!” After a moment her grimace turned into a smirk, returning to her usual cocky self. “Besides, a little more awesomeness couldn’t hurt. I’ll enjoy making Seina look like a fool once I beat her with her own martial arts.”

“How did you do that?” Lilha whispered to the fairy, while Takako continued to brag about herself.

“You just need to know to talk to her,” Nier replied. “We’ve known each other for years.”

That’s a relief. Children were such an annoying pain. Why anyone purposely endured the grueling insanity of parenthood, Lilha never knew.

“Perfect, we can spend the next hour working on your disguise.” Shinobu rubbed his hands together in eager anticipation.

“Won’t she detect your true nature?” Shinobu asked.

Takako waved a dismissive hand. “I can hide my magic. No big deal.”

“Just remember this, Takako,” Lilha said. “Act normally. We don’t want Seina or her bodyguard to get suspicious. It would ruin everything.”

“Act normal?” The magical girl replied, insulted. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything that will draw attention to myself.”

Good. The first step of her master plan was falling into place. The rest would soon follow, and the hateful, magical girl would soon be dead.

---

“Again!”

Seina grunted and performed the same sequence of katas she’d been performing for the last hour. She winced as Mr. Kiyojiro cracked a wooden sword he’d been holding against the ground and walked up to her.

“No, like this.” Her bodyguard adjusted her posture by a minute detail. “Again.”

Seina performed the sequence again, trying to perform the movements just as Mr. Kiyojiro instructed. Her heart bloomed with pleasure as he nodded, indicating she’d performed it successfully. Inwardly, she sighed. If only it didn’t mean that she’d need to perform this same move another hundred times.

Here we go. Seina thought with little enthusiasm.

“Seina!” Colten said, flying down towards Seina from an upper window.

Thank you, timely interruption!

“What is it? Are vampires attacking the city?!” Seina said, her voice hopeful.

“Nope, everything’s calm,” Colten replied with a shake of his head, much to his magical girl’s disappointment. “But I have good news. Aiko has found someone interested in joining our training sessions!”

“Oh, is that right?” Mr. Kiyojiro said with interest.

“She basically jumped at the chance to receive some martial training. I think she has some real promise. There’s something about her.” Colten replied.

“Who is it?” Seina said, her interest peaked. Perhaps training wouldn’t be as miserable if she had another girl training with her.

“Come in!” Colten yelled.

The door opened and in walked Aiko along with another girl their age. The girl’s face extended into a cocky smile, and she vanished in a blur. She leaped high into the air, flattering her body and letting out a loud cry “Hi-ya!”. While in mid-air, she performed a triple spinning corkscrew and landed with grace on her feet, only a meter away from where Seina stood, arms extended.

“My name is Maeko Kodama.” The strange girl said. “And I’m interested in being your training partner.” Up close, the girl stood a few centimeters taller than Seina. She wore her hair short too, but a longer single braid fell over her right cheek. She had strong features and her green eyes spoke of mischief and confidence.

“Right. Um, Seina, Seina Kamiyama.” Seina nodded dumbly, taken aback by the girl’s dazzling display of athleticism.

Meako smirked, raising her head high proudly. “Could you have a better training partner?”

“Wow, that was amazing,” Aiko said from the doorway. “I hadn’t expected she’d do that.”

“Yeah, she’s, uh, interesting,” Colten said.

Mr. Kiyojiro crossed his arms, not as impressed as the others. “And you wish to learn martial arts? May I ask why?”

Maeko only shrugged her shoulders. “It’s a dangerous world out there. So, why not?”

Seina’s bodyguard studied the newcomer for several long moments. For reasons Seina didn’t understand, his expression turned hard, considering the matter with the utmost seriousness. After several more moments, he nodded. “I’m not opposed to it. As long as your parents don’t oppose it.”

“They don’t,” Maeko replied.

“This is perfect!” Seina surprised Maeko by grabbing her hands, gripping the girl’s with hers. “I can’t tell you how lonely it is to train alone. I can tell we’ll become the best of friends!”

“Yeah, it’s nice we’ll be outnumbering the boys,” Aiko added, giving the newcomer a big hug.

“Right,” Maeko replied, shifting awkwardly, disliking all the sudden familiar attention.

“We should have a sleepover tonight!” Aiko said. “I found some more old movies we can watch. They’re not in the best condition however. They might not play right.”

“Movies?” Maeko asked, surprised.

“That’s fine. I’m sure we’ll find one that works” Seina waved a dismissive hand. “What are they about?”

“They’re a little random, but many of them are kid’s movies,” Aiko replied. “I found an animated one about Momotaro!”

“Even I know about that one! That sounds so cute!”

From Maeko’s expression, she didn’t know what they were talking about. Good, Seina always loved the tales of Momotaro’s adventures with his animal friends and would love to explain them to her new friend. She could build puppets.

Mr. Kiyojiro coughed, pointing to the training mat. Seina still hadn’t finished training for the day.

“Okay,” Seina replied, her mood deflating.

“It won’t be for too long.” Her bodyguard gave her a rare smile. “Just for another half-an-hour, then you can play with your new friend.”

“Nice!” Seina beamed. The day had finally improved.

“Uh, what about me?” Maeko asked.

“Just watch and observe.” Mr. Kiyojiro replied. “We can begin the basics tomorrow. There’s no rush.”

Colten snorted. “I hope so. If Lily Annihilator has run back to Starlight Dream with her tail in between her legs, we’ll be in trouble.”

“She would never do that!” Maeko replied, indignant.

Seina blinked. “Sorry?”

“I mean. I heard about this evil magical girl.” Maeko coughed in her fist. “She’s the talk of the town! Pretty scary from all accounts! Proud too! I bet she’s lying in wait, eager to strike when you're least expecting it!”

“Please.” Colten rolled his eyes. “She’ll just fail all over again. I’m worried about her bosses. They’re the real threat!”

“Shows how much you know!” Takako snapped, crossing her arms, a smug expression on her face. “I heard how she killed that Lotus Butcher guy in one hit. She’s far more dangerous than you give her credit for!”

“Like killing a vampire is anything worth noting,” Colten rolled his eyes.

“Now guys, let’s not fight,” Seina said before the argument got worse. “Maeko, I haven’t forgotten about Lily Annihilator. She just isn’t my primary concern right now. I’ve been thinking I’ll need some new tricks if I need to fight her again.”

Maeko perked up. “Really? I’d love to hear about them. That’s so cool!”

“Sure, we can talk about them at supper,” Seina replied. “Mr. Kiyojiro is making curry!” Curry was her favorite dish ever. She liked the spiciness. Colten wasn’t a fan, but that was alright. Her new friend might like it too. She enjoyed sharing a good meal with friends.

“Which you’ll have once you finish your training for today.” Mr. Kiyojiro said, his voice firm. Training always ended when he said so, no compromises.

“Okay,” Seina replied, not wanting to argue.

She began the sequence again, performing it without error, determined to make a show of it. Mr. Kiyojiro nodded his approval, smiling again. Although somewhat impatient, Maeko absorbed the lessons he was teaching her. Good. Seina had a good feeling about her. They’d be fantastic friends and training partners!

---

“Come,” Emiyo said, crossing her legs. Her fairy partner, Nyx, was sleeping in her usual bed on the floor of her office. Despite being built for dogs, Nyx found it quite comfortable.

“I have the latest reports here.” Miko, her personal assistant, entered Emiyo’s office and passed her the note. Her fairy partner, Jin, sat on her head. The girl wasn’t much to look at, very small and mouse-like, but she was efficient and good at getting the job done. The efficiency rating of her office increased by 44.9 percent since Miko became a magical girl.

“Good, misery is spreading nicely.” The sixth sector of the multiverse was especially suffering, increasing by forty-two percent. It constituted several hundred billion universes.

“That isn’t all,” Miko said, her voice tense. “Look at the next page.”

“I see.” Emiyo’s voice was tight. The suffering overall in the eighth sector had decreased by a significant amount, almost 70.12 percent! It made her head spin. “Reasons?”

“We aren’t sure yet,” Miko replied. “It might be the rebel. She’s a tricky one to track. It’s impossible to predict where she’ll appear next.”

Emiyo rubbed the bridge of her nose. “What’s being done about this?”

“Well, Takako went to investigate the strange drop in one particular universe, but she hasn’t reported back. She’s days overdue.”

“Typical. She’s probably slacking off somewhere reading local manga.”

“The other girls aren’t so confident.” Miko’s tension increased. “Some are saying the rebel has gotten her.”

“I’m surprised you care.”

Miko snorted. “Hardly, but it’s more about what it represents. Takako isn’t the only one to not report back. Five other girls have gone missing, each in the eighth sector.”

“So, the rebel is making her move again.” Emiyo ground her teeth. “After her last beating, it’s a wonder she’s even alive.”

After several hundred years, everyone had assumed she’d died. Her bid to create a rebellion in Starlight Dream had ended in failure, almost resulting in her death. Was she picking off weaker girls to hurt their efforts instead? While numerous, the magical girls of Starlight Dream weren’t infinite.

“Whatever she’s doing, it’s undermining our operations.” Emiyo stood from her desk and paced.

Nyx yawned, raising her head from her bed. “What’s the matter?”

“Trouble,” Emiyo replied.

“If girls are going missing, someone needs to investigate. Not me, of course!” Miko said quickly. “If it is the rebel, then someone powerful needs to go. Should I inform the Devil Princesses?”

“No.” Emiyo considered this a private matter. Contacting the Four wasn’t necessary or wanted. “I’ll go.”

Nyx beamed, flipping in the air. “Great! We’ve been cooped up in this office for too many centuries.”

Emiyo nodded her agreement. “Watch things here. I’ll find out what happened to Takako. Pretend she’s just being lazy as usual. I don’t want more doom and gloom rumors spreading around.”

Miko saluted. “Got it.”

Nyx flew over to her shoulder and landed on it. “Road trip! Yes!”

“Watch the suffering quote in the eighth sector,” Emiyo said, her voice nasty. “It’s about to increase by at least 200 percent.”

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Baby’s First Revenge Part 5

New part for the Baby’s First Revenge series! 

Read Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 here!

Screams of excitement filled the normally abandoned warehouse as two fighters circled each other, looking for an opportunity to strike. The bloodlust in the air was palpable, as money quickly changed hands between the excited spectators. The cheers soared as a bell rang out and the fight truly begun. They knew they would see a good fight, see blood.

After all, this was the underground fighting ring, and anything could happen.

Peter stood in the corner, hiding amongst the crowd. His arms were tightly folded across his chest, his heart beating rapidly just underneath. His face was stoic, looking almost bored, but his eyes carefully followed the smaller of the two fighters within the ring. 

Charlotte was tall, a good four inches taller than him, but even she was towered over by her enormous opponent. Outweighing her by a good 100 pounds of muscle, everyone in the arena thought they knew how this fight would end. 

Peter knew differently.

He watched as the sixteen year old girl circled the larger man. Her movements were graceful, almost as if she were dancing across the ring rather than preparing for a deadly fight. Her hands were loose at her sides, her posture relaxed, and on her face was a bright, amused grin.

Charlotte had always loved fighting. It came naturally to her, as easy as breathing or walking to a normal person. It seemed like she was made to fight, to test her strength against larger foes. It was when she seemed the most calm, relaxed. Peter always felt that was when she was the happiest, as if she had found a purpose and was single-mindedly pursuing it. It made him feel jealous, uncomfortable.

Peter sighed as she leapt forward, landing a hard strike to the flank of the man in front of her. The man stumbled, quickly regaining his balance, but it was too late. He had already lost the initiative in the fight.

It’s already over. He just doesn’t know it yet. Despite having bet a good amount of money on Charlotte winning, Peter couldn’t but feel a bitter anger as he watched her in her element, shining brightly in the dark warehouse.

Within the space of a breath, Charlotte had clambered onto the fighter’s back, her arms tight around his neck. He bucked trying to throw her off, but she simply laughed, pressing her thumb against his windpipe, closing off his airway. 

It was a dirty move, one that never would have been acceptable in any other fighting ring. But this was an underground fight. The crowd shouted angrily, upset with as the odds moved against them, but it was too late. His face turned pale and without a short staggering step, the fighter fell to the ground. Charlotte leapt free, brushing her short dark hair out of her eyes with a happy grin.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, finally meeting Peter’s gaze. Her smile widened and she gave him a thumbs up. Peter swallowed the bile rising in his throat, forced a smile, and returned the gesture. 

I hate her.

He had been thinking it for a while now. Ever since they were children, Charlotte had been there for him, helping take care of him. She protected him at all costs, making sure he stayed safe, warm and well fed as possible under their circumstances. She was always smiling, always mature.

It was torture.

It made him feel useless, childish. Who told her to be outstanding, to shine so brightly it made him seem dim by comparison. Standing in her shadow, Peter felt his thoughts turn darker and darker.

Peter was older now, tougher. He didn’t need her protection like he once had before in the past. His eyes followed the celebrating girl carefully, his gaze cold, calculating.

I wonder what my life would be like without her?

“CUT! That was a great take, people! Let’s take a fifteen minute break before the next shot.”

The director’s shout broke Peter’s concentration, shattering the memory he had been immersed in like glass.

Peter shook his head, dispelling the remnants of his confusion, forcing himself to focus on the moment he was in, and not the past. He looked around the movie set, sighing with relief as he confirmed that no one had noticed his distraction. As his gaze settled on a young girl chatting with a small boy beside her, his posture stiffened. Peter struggled to keep the rage and disgust from showing on his face.

She didn’t look like the girl in his memories at all, Her hair was lighter, curled, her eyes a different color. She was shorter, more petite than Charlotte had ever been when they were kids. Even with her hair cut short, her clothes ragged, no one would ever mistake one for the other…

Then why does she remind me so much of her?

It couldn’t just be that they shared the same name… Peter sighed, leaning against the wall, still staring at the young girl. She was rolling her eyes at something her costar had said, laughing cheerfully. Her eyes strayed past the boy before her for a moment, locking gazes with Peter.

Immediately her smile vanished, replaced by a look of disgust. With a brief glare of hatred the girl turned away, not bothering to look at him again. Peter’s hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into the skin of the palms of his hands.

That was it.

No matter the differences in their appearance, there was something about the way she moved. Whether it was fighting men twice her size, laughing with her friends, protecting the young boy beside her, everything she did reminded him of Charlotte. Even down to her carefree smile whenever she was in a dangerous situation. Either way, despite the differences between them, this girl invoked the exact same emotion within him that Charlotte used to.

Peter hated her.  

I don’t care that you’re someone different. I got rid of Charlotte, and I’ll get rid of you.

He smiled to himself, plotting silently in his mind.

“Hey you need to watch out for that author guy.”

Charlotte looked up from her script with a surprised expression at her costar’s whisper.

“Really? Why is that?” Charlotte knew exactly why she needed to watch out for Peter, but she was curious as to why Brandon was warning her.

Brandon glanced around uncomfortably before continuing in a very soft voice. “He stares at you a lot. And when he does he looks really angry, like he hates you.”

“Ok. Then I’ll make sure to stay away from him.” Shrugging, she turned her attention back to her script, almost missing Brandon’s mouth falling open in shock.

“Just like that?” In his astonishment his voice became louder, attracting the attention of the nearby crew members.

“Like what?”

Brandon threw up his hands in frustration. “I mean, I tell you some guy is a creep and you just believe me without asking any questions?!”

“Should I not believe you? I thought you weren’t going to lie to me?”

“Of course you should believe me… it’s just…” Stumbling over his own words, Brandon slumped down in his chair, his face tinged with red. “Never mind.”

She chuckled. “Not used to people trusting you after knowing the real you, huh?”

“Shut up!” His face now bright red, Brandon jumped to his feet and ran away.

Charlotte sighed, smiling and turning a page. “Kids these days.”

“…” Several of the filming staff heard the last part

But… aren’t you a kid?

No one was brave enough to say it out loud.

After finishing filming for the day, Charlotte was brought home by her mother, and sat down to eat with her family.

“Charlotte?” Her father was pale with shock at the sight of her. “What happened to your face?!”

Her mother sighed. “Dear, I tried to call you, I’m sorry. It was just an accident at work.”

“…” There was no movement at all, as her dad stared silently at Charlotte’s swollen cheek.

“It’s okay dad! It was just an accident and it doesn’t hurt at all!” Charlotte tried to smile brightly but winced a little as the movement hurt her face.

“…” Silently her father turned back towards the hallway closet.

“Dear?”

“Dad?”

“…” After digging around for a few moment, he found an aluminum baseball bat. Slapping it against his palm a few times to test the weight, he nodded with silent satisfaction before starting to don his coat and grab his keys.

“NO!”

Charlotte and her mom grabbed him and drug him back to the kitchen. They also confiscated his bat, which caused him to pout.

“I was just going to have a little talk to the person who did this!”

“Talk?” Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “With a baseball bat?”

“You never know how a talk can go. I just brought it in case we decided to… visit the batting cages together.”

“Dad…”

“Definitely wasn’t thinking of beating the jerk’s face in.”

“DAD!”

“What?!” He blinked innocently. “I said I wasn’t thinking about it!”

“…”

Charlotte sighed loudly, but couldn’t help but smile, no matter how much it hurt. To think I lived a life where no one cared if I lived or died, but now, for just a bruise on my cheek… She hugged her dad tightly, which calmed him down somewhat from his murderous rage.

Just as they had sat down to dinner, her mom’s cell phone rang. She stood up and answered it, speaking quietly for a few minutes before ending the call and sitting back down with a concerned expression.

“What is it?” Charlotte was worried.

“It’s… nothing dear.” She waved a hand as if dismissing the question, but Charlotte wasn’t satisfied.

“If it has to do with me or the movie, please let me know, regardless of how uncomfortable it is. I need to know what to expect when I return to work tomorrow.”

Her mother gave an odd expression. “You know Charlotte, I wonder which of us is the parent and which is the child sometimes.” She sighed. “I guess you’re right. There’s been a news story online about your role in the movie… it’s not very nice.”

Charlotte stretched out her hand. “Let me see.”

“Charlotte…”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She smiled sweetly. “May I see your phone, please?”

“No… I mean, yes you should always say please, but that’s not… ugh, here, just read it.” She handed Charlotte her phone with a defeated expression.

Charlotte opened up the news story link that had been texted to her mother by the director and read it, her expression turning darker as she got further in.

“SEARCHING FOR SILENCE CAST SCANDAL, ACCEPTING BRIBES FOR PARTS?

‘Searching for Silence’ is the highly anticipated film adaption of the bestselling book of the same name. Fans have eagerly been combing reports of the casting and filming progress, but who could have known there was corruption behind the scenes? An unnamed source has reported that the director and other producers accepted bribes for the casting of the lead part, ‘Edith’. The young girl who did receive the part was described as ‘talentless’ by this source. They also noted a loud argument between author Peter McAllen and the director as the first time writer felt that the girl was ‘completely wrong’ for Edith. Fans are increasingly concerned…”

Charlotte skimmed the remainder of the article, which she noticed had posted her casting photo. The picture was of herself in a pink dress with long hair and curls. It definitely gave the opposite feel as the character she was playing. Charlotte scrolled down and looked at some of the comments people were making. She winced. The internet was not kind.

“What the…” Her father looked over her shoulder, his face almost turning blue as he looked at the comments with her.

“Dad… remember to breathe.”

He closed his eyes briefly, taking in a deep breath. “Excuse me.”

With that he shouldered his bat and started walking towards the door.

“Honey!” “Dad!”

“Don’t stop me! Did you see what they said about our little girl?” He hefted his bat with a vicious grin. “Don’t worry sweetie, I’ll take care of it.”

“What are you going to do, beat up the whole internet?”

“If that’s what it takes.” He turned back towards the door.

“GRAB HIM!”

His bat was confiscated again, and the grumbling parent was confined to the living room until he had renounced his vigilante plan.

Once they had calmed him down, Charlotte looked back at the article with a frown.

“Don’t read that garbage, it’s just nonsense.” Her mother tried to reassure her, but she shook her head in response.

“It’s not my feelings that are the problem. This isn’t good publicity-wise for the movie. If people get caught up with untrue stuff like this, it might affect ticket sales.”

“…” Her parents glanced at each other in confusion.  

“So, what do you think should be done?” Her dad asked hesitantly.

Charlotte grinned, wincing a little as her cheek stretched.

“They think I’m not good enough for the part of Edith?” She laughed, a dark sound. “I just have to show them how wrong they are.”

[preciousrichard-blog]

Second Thoughts, Second Chances (Sniper/Spy)

Chapter 7: Whiskey Sour

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9419246/chapters/22282649

Rating: Teen+

Chapter Summary: Sniper learns that in a relationship, one has to give as much as he takes, even if he’s pretty bad at it.

"I thought we agreed to be professional." Sniper mumbled into his scope.

The BLU spy was kneeling on the crate behind him, leaning over his side with gloved hands comfortably resting on the taller man's shoulders. He was watching him fire shots out of a broken section of wall just above the central point.

"Pardon my interest in your work." Spy retorted sarcastically, "I’ve just slaughtered your unholy pyro and that insufferable boy. Is it a crime to catch my breath?"

"We're right above the bloody point." Sniper snorted and fired, "Someone's gonna notice you're up here."

"Would you prefer I kill you too?" Spy hummed thoughtfully, "Because I have no quarrels if that is what you want."

Sniper reloaded, the muscles in his back and shoulders shifting under Spy's grasp. The spy fingered at the rippling under his clothes and squeezed softly, making the Aussie tense.

"Quit that would ya?" He ordered, embarrassed by the intimacy, "Yer makin' it harder to aim." 

Spy sneered at him, raising his chin and releasing him at once. "Very well. I will take my leave." He huffed, mildly annoyed. "But the next time you see me, I won't be so easy on you." The dark of seriousness tinted his voice, and the sniper shivered. 

Sniper turned his head to watch him leave. It was clear he'd struck a nerve. He wanted to say something before the spy went out of his way to make his work harder for it, but he couldn't think of any words to say. He sighed as Spy quickly vanished- too late now to correct anything. He slouched; he'd known the other for a long time now, but somehow being so personal with him felt like completely new territory. He meant well, he really did, but there was nothing more unnerving to him than being out in the open. As little as Sniper protested to the Frenchman's affections, and as much as he unconsciously enjoyed them, he wasn't willing to let him hang around too closely at work. He wasn't that kind of risk taker.

Two weeks passed since he agreed to start seeing the Spy. Sniper had expected him to steal away passionate kisses in dark corners or recite horrible poetic verses of infatuation by this point. He assumed the French followed the rules of all those horrible romantic dramas, but for the most part nothing had changed. Sure the spy gave him the occasional curt kiss or compliment, but those things Sniper handled well. He concluded that Spy had taken his request for slowness to heart, but something felt missing about it all. He shook it off with a sobering sound and got back to work. 

He'll be back soon enough to kill me, he thought, firing out of the splintered, broken wall, it's just like a game. He squinted. A morbid, bloody fucked up game. He sighed again, looking down at his kukri beside him. It would all become normal soon enough. Of course, within the hour he was stepping out of RED's respawn and rubbing his hands into his face in frustration. He’d been so distracted with a nearby BLU engineer attempting to set up a teleporter behind his lines that he didn't even think Spy would strike. The mongrel always had impeccable timing. He was always watching, and always where you didn't want him to be. 

Last Thursday had been a difficult day for the both of them. That day Sniper had seen the spy during the last few minutes of the last daily match. He'd caught him creeping up from behind that time, and as the instinct for survival dictates, they had a scuffle. Neither of them yielded as they fought for dominance over the situation, two men of pride and deadly skill battling for control. In the end, Sniper had grabbed Spy by the suit and thrust his kukri forward, only to recoil when he felt the flow of warm blood run down his hands. He saw the pale shock on the other's face and released him. He'd stepped back, and his blade was wedged into Spy's stomach. He could only witness as the man collapsed to his knees, hands fixed on the metal he did not have the power to remove. Sniper had panicked then, apologizing and dragging Spy up against the wall as he died. He threw off his hat and glasses in haste and fumbled with his hands on the others wounded body, unsure of just how to help. But the spy had reached up weakly to still his frantic hands. He'd stopped him and told him to remove the knife from his mangled innards. Blood poured from his mouth as he told him not to worry. It's only business, he assured him before he died, I'll be back. 

The evening after, Sniper found he couldn't eat, and couldn't sleep. Somehow even after all the times he'd used his kukri to end the blue Frenchman's life, that afternoon was different. That afternoon he’d really paid attention to the gruesome details for an unknown reason. He was the first to rush out of battlements the following Friday morning, and finally found relief when he'd seen Spy alive and well through his scope. He didn't shoot him that time; he told himself it was for the sake of being polite. 

Spy's ways of separating his work persona from his private self were significantly more advanced than Sniper's own. The man could be kissing him one moment then acting like violent lifelong rivals the next. But he always came slinking back seeking affectionate company, and Sniper always let him. For someone whose job it was to conceal himself Spy was not adept at hiding his obvious soft spot for the reserved and awkward sniper now that he'd admitted to having it. The once sarcastic and severe French ponce had become a significantly more expressive, excitable, and sentimental French ponce. Even the socially inept sniper could spot the subtle changes he seemed to be bringing about in the man, and he could admit it made him feel special.

It was another week now, totaling three since they'd paired up. Spy was standing with his arms crossed, looking annoyed at a packing Sniper in his tower roost. 

"What’d’ya mean I don't kiss ya?" Sniper asked, genuinely confused.

The spy looked down his nose at the other, "Name one time you've kissed me since our rendezvous in the storeroom." He frowned.

"What're you on about?" Sniper defended, "I kiss ya back every time!" He grew pink. He couldn't believe the words he was having to say.

"Returning a kiss is not the same." Spy frowned harder, "It's been a month. I'm beginning to think you aren't actually interested in me."

Sniper bristled, "Now wait just a bloody second..."

"Perhaps you aren't interested in men at all." Spy grieved, sounding upset.

"Are you havin' a laugh?" Sniper tensed, forcing his voice to a harsh whisper, "That's the only reason I can do this at all!"

"Do what?"

"This!" Sniper gestured broadly between them, then relented and slouched back into a bench behind him. "It's just- I've never- Gah, you bastard I'm still gettin' used to it's all!" He rubbed his face.

"You've never done this before?" Spy asked gently from beside him. 

Sniper turned away, he didn't answer, and he wouldn't. Spy took a seat beside him and Sniper looked anywhere but his direction. The spy scooted over flush against his hip and shoulder, and the Aussie grunted dismissively at him, feeling hot. When Spy put his hand on the other's thigh the Australian just wanted to hop over the railing and let respawn carry him away on impact with the ground. He really considered it.

"But you do want this non?" Spy asked him seriously, and despite Sniper's silence he continued, "I want to show you, you know... But you must give me something to work with."

Spy grew less confident in Sniper's desire to try with every passing second of silence, that is, until Sniper turned to face him with the same look he gave a particularly important target on the battlefield. Spy's eyes grew wide, blinking curiously as the Australian stared him down with a burning fire. When the sniper leaned in with tilted head and focused gaze, Spy's heart almost fluttered away. Ah of course... He thought as Sniper pressed his lips into Spy's with a purposeful gentleness, I should have known. They closed their eyes at the fleeting pressure against their skin, and Sniper took what he could with a slow firmness that embodied his determination to succeed without a single word. 

When they separated, the fire had calmed into an interested flickering, "What else should I do?" Sniper rasped.

Spy let his eyes open slowly, contentedly, "Whatever feels right."

The sniper lifted his hand and Spy could see it falter as it wondered where to go. It settled slowly on top of the hand the spy held on the Aussie's slender leg. Warmth seeped through the black fabric into Spy's skin, and he was astonished with how moved he was at such a simple gesture. When he looked back up at Sniper, he'd been waiting for him to meet his gaze.

They shared a silence, and Spy broke it with a playful smirk. "You're a natural."

More days passed with the usual mundane warring, and Sniper was beginning to get the hang of his unique relationship with the BLU spy. He was beginning not to think so much about the blood and the gore, accepting it as merely temporary effect rather than ultimatum. Of course it would still be a short while until seeing the Frenchman's innards stopped making him queasy. But the temperature was rising and the snows became rains across the mountains and valleys. He'd since moved his belongings back into his camper, and soon enough he'd be on his way to setting up a camp site. Everyone seemed to be performing better at work, and Sniper was making an effort to perform better at being a lover. He found he couldn't fail as long as he did something. Be it touching Spy's head when he'd rest his chin on his shoulder, or idly patting and nudging him when they spoke, almost everything made the blue scoundrel purr. Today however, the spy was anything but pleased. He paced the floor relentlessly after gathering a streak of kills he didn't even appear happy about. The RED team was left in pieces after he'd rampaged through them on a big push with his butterfly knife in the air. Sniper had been impressed, but Spy clearly didn't care.

"You're startin' to get distractin' ya hot-footed wallaby." Sniper mumbled to him as he shot down the enemy sniper running out of BLU spawn.

"I am not one of your bush rabbits." Spy spat back, never stopping his stride and furiously smoking like a chimney.

"Should I say frog then?" He smiled slyly to himself, reloading as a casing clattered across his feet. 

"Oh shut up." Spy sneered, unamused.

"Alright," Sniper interjected, "What's wrong?" He lowered his rifle and pulled back to get a clear look behind him. He arched his eyebrows at the temperamental foot tapping nature of the spy.

"Wrong? Nothing is wrong. What makes you say that?" Spy replied disinterestedly.

"You look...." Sniper chose his words carefully, "Troubled." 

Spy gave him a stern look, but caved at the concerned expression plastered over the Australian's features. "Perhaps." He admitted, pressing his fingers into his temple.

"D’you know what? You look like you could use a drink mate." He nodded, pleased with his analysis.

"Really Bushman that sounds..." Spy rolled his eyes, but stopped as if to ponder before returning his attention, "Rather nice actually." 

"Yeah?" He lit up, "I know a bar right nearby." 

That evening they arrived in Spy's car at his insistence. It was a fancy, shiny little thing that Sniper had been anxious to so much as scuff with his boots. The spy had his reservations about Sniper's taste in locale, but at least he could now depend upon the slow burn of alcohol to sooth him. His frayed nerves detested the rural, back woods look of the establishment, but for the sake of a hard drink he let it slide. The lighted sign read "Alpine Tavern" and boasted beer, ales, wines, liquors, and cocktails beneath. Sniper came off as right at home when they'd gone in, and as endearing as Spy found that chipper attitude, nothing could shake him from recoiling in disgust at the dark and stuffy interior.

Sniper was certainly feeling in his element visiting a place he actually frequented since they'd been stationed in the town just a few months back. He even recognized some of the faces out of the handful of patrons. He felt very in-control of the situation until some of those faces noticed his guest, and began to stare. He remembered then that a man in a tailored suit and mask was an oddity in a town of mountaineers and craft makers. He tried to ignore the attention the best he could, but Spy exuded such a powerful atmosphere that even Sniper found himself ordering scotch over his usual beer in response to the other's whiskey sour. The sniper tried to act like he couldn't notice any looks the bartender was giving him, knowing it was obvious that his company came off as someone important.

Despite the scrutiny, they talked of teammates and personal lives under the jukebox music. Sniper reminisced about Adelaide and Spy vaguely described his youth spent riding his bicycle along Paris streets. Spy was amazed to find, when admitting he played piano, that Sniper played the tenor saxophone. After the first drink Spy was poking fun at the red argyle sweater vest Sniper had worn out that night, and the sniper retaliated with a quip about wearing a suit to a small town bar. They jabbed back and forth, about prissy car this and filthy outback that, the use of truth serum cigarettes, the insane requirements of their contracts and the like. Spy was finally loosening up, and it was beginning to show. About three drinks later their conversations were devolving into the slander of their particularly bothersome rivals. They both laughed rather hard as they dug at the RED spy's good name in unanimous distaste. Spy had quite a bit to say about him, but Spy had quite a bit to say about most things once you got him started.

The BLU looked over at a small ruckus happening beside a pool table and game of darts. He was stricken with a slightly drunken idea that curled his lips into a mischievous grin. Sniper knew the look, he'd seen it about a hundred times or more, and his first instinct was to deny whatever Spy was thinking before he even said it.

"Don't." He warned, nursing his drink.

"Hear me out first cher." Spy smiled, zeroing in on the dart board.

"Did you just call me a chair? Look, whatever you're thinkin', don't think it."

"You're a skilled marksman aren't you?"

"You're damn well right I am."

"Are you just as accurate with darts?"

"Why…?"

Sniper wasn't sure how he'd gotten roped into it, but soon enough he was taking part in hustling a group of big looking guys in a game of darts. Spy played the wingman, convincing the men so easily that the sniper was a novice that even Sniper himself questioned if he believed it. He played into the gimmick, too deep in the ruse to back out now. He played terribly -by his own standards- for the first go, and then absolutely buggered it on the next. By the time the half drunken crowd had reached stakes upwards of a thousand dollars total in wagers, Spy gave the Aussie the go-ahead and the real attempts began. 

"No way this'll work." Sniper whispered to the spy as they stood to the side.

"Just make it convincing." Spy smiled, downing what was left in his cup.

"Is that your fourth drink?"

"It might be my fifth."

"Crikey." Sniper shook his head, whatever had been bothering the spy must have been something.

Somehow, despite the pressure to underperform believably, the rest of the rounds went surprisingly smoothly. Spy played off Sniper's increasing skill at a distance with some lie about far-sightedness, and the men were resentfully convinced, laying down their lost wagers. Spy hummed happily as he counted up the cash in his fingers and Sniper approached him with an air of complete disbelief.

"Bloody hell." He scratched at his neck.

"Mh-hmm."

"A whole thousand?"

"Indeed."

"I almost feel bad."

"Why? Because a herd of reckless gamblers took a risk?"

"I said almost." Sniper smirked, and Spy looked at him with a hazy gaze and smiled back.

Spy pressed the stack of bills into the Aussie's chest, and he reflexively grabbed them, holding them with a confused look. The Spy took a seat and rested his arm against the bar counter, and Sniper looked down at the money. 

"That is yours." Spy smiled, head lulling slightly to the side.  

Sniper looked around, then at Spy. "At least take half." He whispered, feeling impolite. 

"That's quite sweet of you, but my reward is the thrill."

"I really don't need this."

"Honestly Sniper you misunderstand why I play these games."

A voice bellowed from behind the two, grizzly and accusing. "So you call this guy the 'sniper' huh?" The pair turned to find a burly man and two of his friends close by. "Red n' blue eh? You wouldn't be them mercenaries we been hearin' about up north would ya?"

"I believe you have us confused with someone else gentlemen." Spy offered coolly, unperturbed.

"Yeah? Well I believe you two are a couple a' no-good merc scum playing me n' my friends here out of our money." 

"It's just a game lads." Sniper reasoned, "We don't want any trouble."

"Hustlin's askin' for trouble chief." The mountain man growled, drawing nearer and covered by his two large friends.

Sniper backed up as the group began to corner him; his eyes flickered back and forth looking for a way to slip by. He suddenly remembered the drunken Spy and turned so he could motion him to escape, but he found the Frenchman was gone.

Bloody- you've got to be kidding me! Sniper seethed. 

Spy had slipped away and run. Sniper bristled; he should have known those slimy backstabbing pikers couldn't be trusted. Even after a month of being sweet on him, he had the nerve to hang the Aussie out to dry like this. He should have known he'd never change, in the end spies only cared about themselves. He turned, furious, and widened his stance. These guys were big but they were no Australians. He really wished he'd brought his kukri all the same however, because a three on one bare knuckle brawl was hardly fair. He raised his forearms in front of himself as the burliest of the three lunged toward him, ducking past one punch and leaning away from the next. Sniper made a grab for the incoming blow and used the hefty man's forward momentum to twist his arm and pull him down. He stumbled, thrown off balance just long enough for the lanky Aussie to put even more space between himself and his assailants. He was panting, heart racing, he never liked bar fights, and he knew there was no way he could win. The burliest man stood back up to his feet, and they all spat colorful curses while plowing forward once again. One of the shorter men behind the clear pack leader suddenly screamed and fell to his knees, drawing the other two's attention. He fell onto his face, and Spy stood over the gaping bloody wound in his back.

"Pardon me." Spy said wickedly, brandishing a bloody balisong. 

The two men gawked, stricken by the very much dead corpse of their friend on the ground. Sniper gawked with them, looking shocked and relieved at seeing the spy swooping quickly toward him.

"Time to go." Spy commanded as he pulled the Aussie's arm with an astonishing amount of strength Sniper often forgot he had. 

They were running through an open back door and getting into Spy's car before the two other men could deduce where they'd gone. Sniper realized the engine was already running when they got in; Spy had preemptively slipped away to create an escape path. The sniper didn't even have time to process all of it before he noticed the men piling out of the back door behind them in the side view mirror, now joined by a couple others who witnessed the murder at the bar. He opened his mouth to tell Spy to floor it but was quickly jostled in his seat as they peeled out of the parking lot and down the dark hilly road. He gripped for dear life at the armrest and door handle as the fast little car maneuvered the curving street.

"You're gonna kill us sooner'n they are!" Sniper yelled at him, seeing the headlights of two other cars pull out of the distant bar.

"Oh calm down Bushman," Spy scoffed, pressed back into his seat and focusing as hard as he drunkenly could on the road, "no need to yell."

Sniper was turned around in the passenger's seat keeping an eye on the distant lights. He was knocked onto his backside by a harsh turn that Spy wheeled into hard, causing the tires to screech and the car to carry sideways around the bend. Sniper thought he could see his life flashing before his eyes; there was no way respawn computers reached out that far if this killed him. He suddenly realized he was screaming and his glasses fell from his face. The car turned again and once more he was knocked back, pressed into the door as they slipped into a dark and gravelly roadway. Sniper willed himself to stop his screaming when the car began to slow along the rocky path, and once they were deep into the trees, Spy stopped them and turned off the engine. Sniper looked at him with horrified, wild eyes in the darkness.

"Are you quite finished?" Spy asked him, resting an arm on the wheel.

Sniper panted, eyes flickering all over the other's person before focusing again. He didn't speak, but nodded and sank like a melting snowman into his seat. Spy watched him curiously, and they both stilled with anticipation as the sound of two cars speeding past them echoed through the silent alpine forest. When the rumbles of the engines were long gone, Spy let his hands fall into his lap and his head rest tiredly against the seat.

"Did you have to stab him?" Sniper finally said between tired breaths.

"Hm?" Spy turned his head languidly, "Is that even a question? It's what I do."

"You just made 'em angrier!" Sniper huffed.

"Oh do excuse me for saving us monsieur how rude of me. Next time shall I leave you to handle things yourself?"

Sniper's heart clenched. He'd assumed the spy had left him there at the bar to fend for himself. He misjudged him unfairly only to be proven very wrong. In the end Spy was taking every measure to assure they could escape unharmed.

"No... No, you're right." Sniper sighed, guilt once again burdening him over his hastiness to react. "Thank you. You saved my arse… Even if it was your bleedin’ lies that pissed ‘em off."

He looked up at the shuffling sound of clothes and Spy was there edging up close to his face. Sniper's heart shivered and he half closed his eyes, knowing what was happening. They kissed, and Spy crawled over his seat all the while to press in closer. Sniper felt hot after all the excitement, and the energy made him grip at the man and pull him in without much thought. He parted his lips and Spy nibbled and sucked, breath thick with liquor and chin course with stubble. Sniper returned every motion, every nip and tug and slow taste. Spy pushed further then, pressing the sniper into his seat. The Aussie held on to the door handle to stabilize himself as his whole body was overwhelmed with Spy's invading presence. Spy worked his mouth open, and in a scotch-induced haze Sniper allowed him to. He screwed his eyes shut at the slick hot sensation of Spy's tongue entering his mouth, pressing against his own tongue and gently laving over it. He felt heavy, blurry, tingly all over, and experimentally teased back, inspiring Spy's hands to begin pulling at the Sniper's shirt and buttons.

He was washed away now, even when Spy slid his tongue out from between his lips, even when he felt cool air touch his chest. He sighed a shuddering breath as Spy ducked down and suddenly there were warm kisses being pressed into his neck. Spy hummed and Sniper made a strangled type of noise at the way it all surged through him at once.

"You're devastating, cher..." Spy slurred from below his jaw, hands roaming Sniper's sides.

"You keep callin' me a chair." Sniper said, furrowing his eyebrows at the clearly drunken man.

Spy stopped then, and Sniper wondered if he'd said something wrong. But then the man quivered, and after a moment the Aussie could hear the quick hitches of his breath. He was laughing.

Sniper rubbed his hand into his tired eyes, and sighed. "Bloody hell you’re full."

"An interesting choice of words." Spy mused as he returned to lavishing the Aussie's neck, pulling a surprised throaty sound from him.

Sniper squirmed and tensed at every petting stroke and wet kiss. His mind suddenly caught up with him in the fog of passion and he was hyper aware of every motion. The position of Spy's pelvis pressing into his leg made him freeze. He shifted, trying to pull his body further away but the enthusiastic spy only took it as an invitation to explore his middle. He panicked; not only did he not know the first thing to do and risked looking like a thirty-some year old virgin, but he could think of a hundred better places and times to do this. He could feel heat pooling in his stomach and he felt the anxiety force air into his lungs.

"Slow down…" He was suddenly pleading. "Wait!"

Spy stilled, his fingers hooked into the waist of Sniper's pants. He looked up at him with a pitiful disbelieving expression. They stared at each other, and slowly Spy pulled away. Sniper sat up, it's not that he didn't want to offer the man what he wanted, it's that he simply couldn't mentally bring himself to. It was terrifying even if it thrilled him. Sniper just wasn't that kind of risk taker. He caught his breath, finding his glasses in the dark and slipping them onto his face again. He didn't need them to see, but rather to hide. He looked at the spy who had shrunk back into the driver’s seat, gripping at his own arm hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

"Spy?" Sniper called quietly, making out the upset look on his face.

"How long will you make me wait?" Spy asked him, voice slurred with a mix of European accent and bourbon.

Sniper felt yet another pang of guilt. It was true, he'd put off getting intimate in any way simply because he wasn't sure how. He felt like a coward. "Just... A little longer." He voiced quietly, feeling ashamed of himself.

"Do I not excite you?" Spy whined, the alcohol coaxing out his deeper confessions.

With a sympathetic expression, Sniper gathered his nerves and eased across toward the disheveled spy. "That's not it..." He used the most reassuring voice he could muster for a ruthless assassin, "Yer drunk, ya crazy spook. A quick naughty in yer bloody car ain't exactly romantic."

Spy looked up at him with eyes that sought out the comfort the other was offering. Sniper wasn’t one to care for romanticism, but he wasn’t keen on doing anything crammed into a small car.

"Ain't that what yer all about?" Sniper smiled softly.

Spy stared at him, and Sniper was sure the look he was giving meant that he'd made a good enough point. He felt responsible now, for the way Spy nearly curled up in on himself at being denied his search for passion. He awkwardly crawled closer, all long limbs and cramped movements, and pulled the man toward him by the arms. Spy gave in to the force and allowed himself to be tugged into several kisses upon his exposed face and a slow embrace. He felt drained and smitten, stable and off-center all at once. Sniper held him even after, and the warmth of his body seeped into the drowsy Frenchman's bones.

"A hotel." Spy mumbled into the other's shoulder, and Sniper shifted his head curiously. "Next time, a hotel. With a proper bed."

Sniper blinked, processing, before chuckling rather nervously. He couldn't lie to himself; the bastard was charming like this. But now he couldn't keep running, this was a battle he'd face head-on. He wondered if this was the cause behind Spy's troubled mood. With the sad and complacent Frenchman sighing into his chest he knew it was his responsibility to take it seriously. Perhaps he was not as steel-willed and accustomed as he let on, perhaps the man was just as frightened of all this as he was.