#i know spy should've just made a paper mask gun disguise actually

[lyricalt]

[tf2 mini fic] gun maintenance

by request: that throwaway line from Critical Provocation.

(Sniper/Spy - light M... for hanky-panky.)

++++

In all fairness, Spy knows to wait his turn. He's second to work and the upkeep of it, he understands it enough, but sometimes…

“If only you treated me as well as your rifle,” he says, swinging himself into Sniper’s lap.

Sniper holds out his arms to avoid staining Spy’s suit, oil rag still in one hand. Spy pulls it out of his grip and tosses it aside. He’s willing to ruin the dress shirt and vest for this.

“If only you'd behave like my rifle,” Sniper says, wry. He reaches around Spy to snatch a clean square of cloth to wipe his hands as best he can, which makes Spy smile. Behind him, Sniper’s rifle is resting on the crate, still in pieces but each component sparkling clean.  

“On the contrary, I’d let you take me apart,” Spy says, leaning in. He guides Sniper’s hand to the front of his vest and grins when he sees a flush spreading across Sniper’s face. With an encouraging hum, he puts his mouth to Sniper’s ear. “Go ahead. Dismantle every part of me. Spread me out like you do with your gun.”

The first button of his vest gets undone. Spy feels Sniper’s other hand slide down the small of his back. He catches Sniper glancing at past his shoulder before gently pushing him down at an angle to lay over the adjacent crate.

Right next to the rifle.

Spy’s pulse picks up. There’s a carefulness to Sniper’s touch, shifting him around to pull the vest off. He didn’t expect Sniper to play along.

“Planning to wipe me down with oil?” Spy asks, tipping his chin upwards so that Sniper can hook a finger over his tie. “Are you a fan of Mann Co., or do you use something else?”

“For you?” Sniper says, pulling. The tie unknots, dragging under Spy’s collar until it comes free. “I'd get the expensive stuff. Roebuck and Sears, in the orange tin.” He rolls up the tie, as neat as Spy would have done it.

All of things, that alone makes the heat curl in Spy’s chest. They’re both the type to appreciate attention to detail, and the heat only grows worse when Sniper starts undoing the buttons of Spy’s shirt with the same methodical ease of doing maintenance work. 

“I can imagine you cleaning me out with a rod. You’d do it slow, and deep,” Spy can’t help but add with a smirk. He lifts and presses a knee at Sniper’s crotch. “I’d like you not to use the nitro powder though.”

Sniper laughs, leisurely rocking back and forth against Spy’s leg as he runs his hands down Spy’s sides. “I’ll skip the nitro.” 

“And when you're done—bend me out the window,” Spy says.

“Cock n’ aim you just like that?” Sniper peers at him from the top of his glasses. “Haven’t even put y’back together yet.”

Spy rolls his eyes but slings a leg around the back of Sniper’s thigh. He doesn’t take the criticism to heart. Sniper’s hands kneed at his chest, thumbs circling under the pectoral muscles. Spy curves to the touch, foot slipping back down to the ground. He doesn't moan, but it's a near thing.

“I’d take my sweet time with you,” Sniper says, low.

Spy lets his eyes drift shut, enjoying Sniper's fingers trailing towards his throat. “I'd be such a dedicated gun. Point me at someone. And I'll kill them, no questions asked.”

Sniper shivers. He drops down to brace himself over Spy.

His fingers edge along the mask, lifting it slightly. Not curious or prying, only with the calm intensity of someone doing a cursory inspection, like spot-checking the mechanism of the trigger and bolt to any rifle.

“I oughta put the safety on you,” Sniper murmurs, thumbing Spy’s bottom lip.

Spy tips his head. Sniper gets as far as exposing his jaw and one side of his cheek before Spy turns to his palm and takes Sniper’s fingers in his mouth, the residue of gun oil bitter on his tongue.

Sniper looks at him, eyes dark. He bends the rest of the way down to kiss Spy with such thoroughness Spy wonders if he’ll have to write him a check for the work. 

“Keep talkin’,” Sniper says, rumbling against his exposed jaw.

It makes Spy start to suspect Sniper might like him more than his rifle after all.