Work Text:
Sniper snapped to consciousness, gasping on the lack of air entering his lungs. He promptly curled up, arms wrapped around himself, and coughed in an attempt to take in a full breath. His eyes were clenched shut but a couple of stinging tears managed to trickle down his nose.
Fucking nightmares.
Once he was taking in gasps of air that could pass as breaths, he dared to open one of his eyes and glance at his alarm clock sitting a couple feet away from his bed.
3:16 am.
Well, that was fucking fantastic considering there was absolutely no way he was going to go back to sleep.
Sniper rolled onto his back, breath softly hitching all the while, and tried to let his sweaty limbs relax into his scratchy sheets but he knew it was in vain. Whatever god was up there seemed to be blessing him with a reoccurring dream that had plagued him for almost two weeks.
It always started innocently enough; he'd find himself on the battlefield, carrying out business as usual, taking out any BLU merc he spotted with his trusty huntsman or shiv. It was when he spotted a fellow RED that things would start going horribly wrong. Two weeks ago, he had locked eyes with his team's Scout before the kid turned his shotgun up at his chin and blasted away. Only after making eye contact with his Demoman last week, the Scot turned his broken handle of whisky towards his eye that still worked and dug until it no longer did. Sniper barely made it to the trash bin a couple of nights ago when he watched Medic take his bonesaw against his throat.
At first Sniper didn't get it. For godsake, he killed for a living and watched his teammates die everyday for a paycheck, why was some stupid nightmare getting the best of him?
After he'd watched Spy blow his brains out tonight did he understand. It was so, so realistic, but it was wrong. The BLU's should be ones doing them in, not...themselves.
Sniper stared blankly at the ceiling of his van but all he saw over and over again was Spy's brains splattering. He stared for a while longer, willing his mind to forget, before he dared another glance at his alarm clock.
3:48 am.
Fuck this.
Mentally preparing himself, he swung his legs over the edge of his bed and considered what his options were. He could stare at the ceiling until he had to get up in 4 hours, like he did for the past three days. He could run a couple laps around the base in hopes of getting a few hours of sleep after passing out from pure exhaustion.
He could see if Spy was awake.
Hell, he knew Spy would be fast asleep but Sniper had been becoming more close with the Frenchman in the past month and maybe he wouldn't mind. Maybe he could talk some sense into his rattled brain. Maybe he could distract him if anything else. Maybe he could just be there.
Maybe.
Sniper groaned as he swayed into a standing position and grabbed his jeans off the floor with shaking hands. It was no use bothering with his button up right now, the sleeveless undershirt he had on would have to do. It wasn't long before the Aussie had locked his van and was slowly making his way towards the RED base. Without his hat, the night's wind whipped through what hair he had and sent chills down his spine. He'd only cared enough to slip on his tinted shades before he left, he needed to see where he was going after all.
Shaking from the cold and the remnants of his nightmare, Sniper found himself outside the door to Spy's living quarters. He'd been in this position before but under very different circumstances. Seeking Spy's attention was usually thrilling and something to be highly anticipated after a long day's work. Now it was...scary. Intimidating. What if the man laughed in his face at something he’d deem so trivial? What if he didn’t get it ?
Sniper was getting ready to turn around and just head back to his van, having accepted his sleepless fate, when the door before him swung open just enough for Spy’s masked face to peek out.
“Lawrence?”
He initially froze at the use of his first name but untensed when he remembered that no one else was around. Sniper wanted to say something but everything he was thinking to say seemed to vacate his mind all at once. Spy’s grey-blue eyes stared back at him, laced with concern and something else that Sniper couldn’t quite pin down.
“You are shaking, mon amie . Come inside.”
Spy opened his door fully and Sniper observed that the Frenchman was only clad in a pajama shirt and boxers. It was rare to see him in anything else but one of his expensive suits and he doubted that anyone else besides maybe the doctor had seen him in informal wear. Sniper nodded, and numbly stepped into Spy’s room.
“Sit down, s'il vous plaît . I will join you in a moment.”
Sniper didn’t protest as he dropped himself onto the firm bed in the left-most corner of the small room. He guessed correctly that all the living quarters in the base were supplied with the same twin-sized bed, desk, chair, and dresser as he looked around the room shrouded in darkness. His eyes found and settled on Spy who was swiftly pulling off his mask and gloves, revealing his salt and pepper hair as well as the sparse amount of fine lines and wrinkles that the man seemed to wear so flawlessly. When their eyes met, Sniper flinched unwillingly and slammed his eyes shut, letting his head fall into his hands as his nightmare decided to resurface with a vengeance.
“Fuck, I-I’m sorry, I don’t. I’m sorry I woke you up,”
It’s the first thing Sniper had said to the man all night as the guilt of waking Spy built up in his throat and wrestled with the fear that was holding his body tensely in place. He knew he was shaking pitifully but it was already too late: Sniper had made his bed the second he’d entered the room and now he was going to have to lay in it.
He waited for a snide remark from Spy about being woken up at this ungodly hour or a sigh of disappointment at the childish behavior he was exhibiting but it never came. Instead, a set of fingers, feather-light, grasped at Sniper’s hands and pried his own fingers away from his eyes. Sniper kept his lids shut.
“Breathe, breathe with me. You’re safe.”
Spy’s voice was low and soothing, pleasant to Sniper’s ears as he had barely noticed his breath become shorter before then. The Frenchman dropped softly onto the bed beside him and dragged Sniper’s right hand to his chest, letting the Aussie feel the deep inhales and exhales of air that he was so generously exaggerating. Spy’s other hand squeezed Sniper’s free hand, a grounding reminder that it was just a dream and Spy wasn’t dead, he’s right here .
This continued for an unclear amount of time but Spy continued to murmur encouragements to his teammate’s ears until he was breathing somewhat normally again and most of the shaking subsided. The set of hands held to Spy’s chest dropped into their laps and Sniper let out a long sigh of relief as he regained control of his breathing.
“That’s it, mon amour . You’re okay. Can you open your eyes for me?”
Sniper reminded himself once more that everything was fine and Spy wasn’t going to harm himself before steeling himself and cracking his eyes open. Oh. He doesn’t remember when but his tinted shades had been removed from his nose in the midst of his little episode. He was only nearsighted though, so Spy’s face, etched with concern, was easily visible just a few feet away from his own.
“M’ sorry-”
“Ach. No. I won’t have your apologies. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
The Aussie felt a heat wash over his cheeks and he looked at the floor. He remained silent as Spy’s thumb swept over his sore knuckles, quietly willing Sniper to speak once more.
“Uhm. I, uh, had a nightmare, w-well, I’ve been having the same nightmare for a week or two.”
“Do you wish to talk about it?”
Sniper’s nose scrunched at the thought of having to recount the dream again so soon. Spy shifted, moving to sit right beside his teammate instead of across from him. He felt warm, safe, as Spy looped his one arm around his chest while his free hand remained entwined with his. The Frenchman placed a sweet, soft kiss on the underside of Sniper’s jaw that was reminiscent of the affectionate way Spy had carried himself in the bedroom before. Breathing in the heady scent of Spy’s cologne helped the last of Sniper’s tension leave his body.
“I don’t think so. Not, uh, not yet at least,”
“ Comme tu veux, ma chérie .” Spy hummed in understanding. “Would you like to lay down with me?”
Sniper frowned. “I don’t know...I don’t want to keep you up, I, uh, I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to sleep tonight.”
“Keep me company?”
If Sniper wasn’t going to sleep at all tonight, he supposed that laying with Spy was better than any alternative. He nodded silently in response and that was all Spy needed to begin gently maneuvering his teammate back onto the pillows at the far end of the bed that was closest to the wall. Sniper was pressed onto his back and, before he knew it, Spy had laid himself across his chest with his face buried into the crook of his neck. Long arms wrapped themselves around Sniper’s chest snugly and he felt totally safe, enveloped in the warmth of Spy’s hold. The weight on his chest was comforting and Sniper felt the most relaxed he had all night.
“I wouldn’t let anyone lay a finger on you, ma chère , understand?” Sniper felt Spy’s hot breath against his neck.
“Thanks, love.”
Spy’s only response was a soft peck to the side of the Aussie’s neck. To Sniper’s surprise the next morning, he fell asleep quickly and blissfully slept through the rest of the night without so much as a peep.