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Pyro sat cross-legged on their bed, loose cotton pajamas draped over their soft body. They were clinging to a large plush, clearly anxious in Spy's absence. The normally punctual man said he would be here twenty minutes ago, and the clock in Pyro's stomach began ticking faster.
Not all nights were so anxious for Pyro, and oftentimes Spy needed to fall asleep in his own space. He knew all too well that he could be needlessly bitter, easily agitated, that he could push away warmth even when he was freezing. He wasn't old enough to grow beyond the habits, but he was old enough to silently acknowledge them. Sometimes sharing a bed was out of the question, and in times like that, he preferred to retreat to his own little bubble.
Especially now, with this delicate little firefly nested in his hands... After all the months it took for even a glimmer of trust to build between the two. If he ever felt the need to clench his fists, he'd spray breath across his palms to bring them into flight, carried away on his lung's breeze to buzz through the air.
From a safe distance, he would watch that precious, flickering light dance in the cool night's wind.
Too far to be swatted by his nervous, gloved hands.
Just close enough not to be confused for a star.
Pyro understood this concept, on their own level. It had to be explained, but the Pyro learns fast, provided someone is willing to teach. At first, it was quite easy for the crew to form shallow conclusions about their 'capacity' for connection. They often found themselves sidelined in conversation, treated as less-than-sentient, stripped of personhood. It stung. Thankfully through the simple passing of time, hundreds of little interactions, and some gentle nudging from Engineer in particular, most of them did come to to know Pyro a little better.
But no one understood them better than Spy.
While many of the other mercenaries still approached Pyro with a vague sense of (perhaps not entirely unjustified) anxiety, Spy had pushed far beyond his immediate fears in the name of satisfying his curiosity. Spy was, as one might say, nosy. Borderline stalker-ish, quite frankly.
For some time, he would've skirted around such labels, instead preferring to describe his activities as nothing more than a desire to have control over the workplace, to keep tabs on his team, especially the most unpredictable of the bunch. At a certain point, however, it was undeniable that personal interests had played a great hand in his bizarre fixation on this little firefly.
After months of slow, agonizing observation,
followed by quiet interactions,
then unspoken confessions through touch,
they'd somehow neatly fallen into an arrangement that worked so very well, for these two very strange people.
This arrangement included their sacred ritual, as many nights a week as Spy could handle. He longed for Pyro's heat, but was so easily burnt.
Intimacy does not come easily for a man who has rid himself of countless connections, countless identities.
And when one changes their name too many times, it's hard to say that they really have one anymore.
...
It was easier with the Pyro though, someone who didn't incessantly pry into him or his past, who simply wanted him as he was. Pyro existed firmly in the moment.
Here and now.
Here and now, Spy finally walks through their door, closing it behind him with practiced silence. The room is quite dim, illuminated by the flame of a single red candle on their nightstand.
"Bonsoir..." Spy said, just above a whisper. He was in his night robe with little underneath- grey boxers and a white tank top.
His body looked ready for rest, but his face was still being gripped by his daytime mask. Tired eyes sat behind the fabric.
Pyro crawled from their nest to embrace the man, inhaling as much of his scent through their mask as they could. He'd just showered, which almost disappointed the Pyro, hoping to get a whiff of his musk, a little smoke, maybe a little blood to lick up... But they still loved the aromas of his imported lotions and his clean clothes. It was in stark contrast to the Pyro's lingering scent of kerosene and ash.
Spy sunk into the hug more than usual, body worn from his duties of the day. Today's battle had been especially challenging for him, and one too many trips through respawn leaves one feeling rather fatigued.
Pyro's hands traveled up Spy's back, to his neck, gently rubbing in little circles to soothe the aching muscles.
Gentleness was not second nature to the creature, having to be taught how to use 'soft hands' rather than their typical firm, primal grip on everything. They pulled back for just a moment, slipping their rubber gloves off, before returning their hands to Spy. Their fingers traced up his collarbone, eliciting a soft sigh from the man, before slipping both sets of fingers underneath the bottom of his mask, slowly peeling it away, before tossing it onto their nightstand.
Spy's eyes always met the ground at this moment. He couldn't help but still feel a twinge of embarrassment at how vulnerable he was unmasked, unmasked by someone else, no less.
He returned the favor, pulling off Pyro's mask even slower. The rubber creaked as it was lifted above their head, placed more carefully on the nightstand next to his disguise. Their back was turned to the light, as always, showing only their silhouette and the fuzziest outline of their soft features.
The silence between them was warm as their hands began tracing one another's features, becoming lost in mapping the other's face.
Ungloved and unmasked, skin on skin.
Spy's fingers tangled in Pyro's curls, their nails grazed the frenchman's jawline.
Spy touched them like he was trying to memorize each scar, each dent, measuring the depth and texture methodically.
Pyro touched him like they'd never touched a human before, somehow both needy and cautious, like their lover was made of glass that would crack if they moved too carelessly, as they so often did.
Their breaths were both shaky, stirring up the air in the small space just enough to make the candle flicker a bit. Pyro loved how the room's walls danced with color when candles were lit inside. They weren't supposed to use candles without careful supervision, but they couldn't help it sometimes.
Breaking the silence, Spy cleared his throat and gestured to the restroom, prompting the second phase of their routine. They left the door open for just the tiniest bit of light.
The sink quietly hummed as it poured cool water into Pyro's hands, sudsing up their face to wash away the day's grime and soot. Spy looked into the distance, briefly troubled by his own thoughts again, tuning out the sound of Pyro brushing their teeth, before being gently poked with the blunt end of his own toothbrush.
With clean faces and minty mouths, they made their way to the bedroom once again. Spy's fresh breath blew out the flame of the candle, leaving them comfortably shrouded in near-perfect darkness.
The only light came from the window now, revealing endless stars puncturing the dark tapestry of the desert sky. They slipped under the covers, one after the other, quickly clinging together for warmth. The desert could get so cold at night, and the heating system on this particular base left something to be desired.
Just a moment later, their hands traveled to one another's faces once again, Spy's touch even more needy than before, letting out the softest little whine as Pyro leaned into his palm and purred.
His strange little firefly. How innocently they let his hands graze their neck, as if he hadn't sliced a dozen just hours ago. A sick and aimless man. Spy often couldn't help but feel a bit rotten in these moments, like he was tricking them. Pyro was mysterious, but not intentionally deceptive.
But him?
He was a liar, through and through.
Fraudulent.
Manipulative.
He had been offered this position because of his unique ability to distort the truth. The ability to take a life was something he had to refine over the years, but dishonesty? That was as natural as putting one foot in front of the other.
In their most intimate moments, he found himself wondering if somehow this was all an act of manipulation too, what he's really trying to gain from all this. The thoughts close in quicker in the silence of the evening, no laughing or bickering from the crew to cut through the fears swallowing his mind.
Pyro, sweet little Pyro, despite their quirks, had developed a keen sense of when Spy got too deep in his head.
They snuggled in closer and planted a kiss on his forehead, his breath hitching for a moment. They murmured something sweet into his salt and pepper hair, caressing him the same way they would caress their stuffed animals.
For just a second, the man thought he was going to burst into tears, choking on the lump in his throat. He managed to swallow it, taking a deep, staggered breath instead.
Spy gazed at Pyro, visage ever so slightly lit by the moon, as if they were the entire world. It was frightening how attached he'd grown to the little firebug. Frightening that someone could make him feel so good, so safe...
So unconditionally loved.
The thought made his heart twitch.
They stroked his shoulders, hushing him into rest, hoping to conjure up sweet dreams for the troubled old man. The minutes passed, and as sleep crept up his body, Spy slowly but surely relaxed, knowing the heavy thoughts would have to wait until tomorrow.
Ungloved and unmasked, skin on skin.
Huddled beneath the sheets, the rest of the world fell away, leaving no tomorrow, only tonight.
Only them.