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The BLU Spy crashed into the floor, head knocking against the wooden planks. He grunted as he looked up at the RED Medic. He had that sick, sadistic smile plastered on his face, the one that unsettled Spy down to his very core. Medic simply grinned at him and started to walk towards the operation table. Spy strained his head forward to see what he was doing, and felt his heart drop to his stomach as Medic gently picked up a bonesaw. He held it up to the light, and Spy saw it was splattered with blood. The blood of his own comrades, he assumed.
Medic slowly twirled around and, as if teasing the poor Spy, he let him observe the bonesaw again. Coat fluttering behind him, Medic lazily walked over and delivered a sharp kick to Spy's side; and Spy swore he nearly fainted then and there. A bloody nose, broken ankle, severe beating and now more pain- he let out a heaving cough. Blood splattered onto his luxurious suit as he coughed, the deep red contrasting the pretty blue hue of his team's colour. Spy prayed to whatever God was out there that this torture would just stop. He nearly broke character, opening his mouth to start begging for Medic to let him go, but when he saw the doctor lean towards him with his bonesaw raised, Spy lost all hope of survival then and there. Medic didn't even say anything, just stared at him with that psychotic expression as he put the blade to Spy's neck.
His eyes widened and he shuddered. Spy resisted the urge to swallow so as to not nick himself on the blade. The silence was so, so loud- until Spy bit the bullet and, without a single shred of hesitation, spat in Medic's face. Medic flinched and Spy tried to stand back up, but pain coursed through his body and he flopped back down with a shriek. Medic's smile had evaporated, replaced by a stern stare. Spy instantly regretted his decision as somehow Medic managed to grin, even more unhinged than before- and then he plunged the saw directly into Spy's throat. He screamed; well, tried to, and reached for his neck-
-only to find scars. No wound, no pain, just… stitches and a faint tingling sensation. Spy was sitting up in his bed, eyes wide open and teeth gritted, hand ghosting over the spot where there should've been blood, agony, blinding white pain, but there wasn't. Just a dull pulse. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. His hands were wet. There were tears streaming down his cheeks. Every night, he'd wake up, breathing heavily with a silent scream on his lips. The same nightmare, every night, just like clockwork. It was routine at this point. He'd started going to sleep later than usual in a feeble attempt to escape that stupid nightmare, but it came back to him, always.
He dragged his thoughts away from that trainwreck and took a second to just… breathe. Calm down. He couldn't fall back asleep if he was too busy hyperventilating about the past. It didn't matter anymore, he told himself, but surely there was a reason he was having these nightmares- no, he was just being ridiculous. Spy buried his face in his hands, wishing fruitlessly that he could maybe just have one peaceful night. He let out a quiet sob as his hand floated to his neck again. Stitches littered the line around his throat, where he'd been amputated by the RED Medic. Kept like a guinea pig in his fucking fridge!
Thinking he was alone, he began to cry, and a light flicked on in the hallway and Spy nearly screamed. His door was open, and someone was staring, standing in the middle of the doorway. Adrenaline flooded his body as he reached for his knife, but Spy stopped in his tracks as he got a glimpse of the person's face. It was... familiar.
"Spy?"
An Australian accent. Was it-
"Spy, are you alright?"
Spy shook his head and quickly dropped his knife back onto the bedside table. "Yeah, I'm okay Sniper, uh- What are you doing here?" Spy stammered out. His normal, suave facade was quickly torn down by the sheer nervousness coursing through his veins. From the dream or from the scare the marksman had given him, Spy couldn't tell.
Sniper said nothing. He shut the door behind him, quietly walked over and turned Spy's bedlight table on. Sniper's face was one filled with concern and Spy couldn't help but realize just how vulnerable he was right now. He looked away in shame as Sniper gently wiped the tears off Spy's face. Neither of them said a single word as Sniper sat down on the foot of his bed. He fidgeted with his hands while Spy tried to get his shit together. Spy opened his mouth to say something, maybe a snide remark, but Sniper got to it before him.
"So, do you want me to, uh, sit here with you or something? Just for a bit?" Sniper awkwardly blurted out, suddenly breaking the silence. Spy looked back at him and studied his appearance for a second. Sniper's hat and glasses were nowhere to be seen, and that worried look was still plastered on his damn face. He was wearing his night wear, and so was Spy. He stared at his face, and Sniper stared back - he realised he was making direct eye contact with the marksman, so he coughed and glanced somewhere else. His face heated up.
They both didn't say anything for a second or two after that, but then Spy spoke. "...I'm not objecting to that, am I?" Spy's stupid snarky attitude was back up again. He never liked to be vulnerable, in any definition of the word. Not even with his closest acquaintances. His false identity was like a safety net to him. Spy wiped the tears off his face again- well, as well as he could through the balaclava.
Spy groaned in annoyance and shuffled over to the side, trying to make room for the man to lie down. Spy pat the space next to him, in a beckoning manner, and Sniper took this as his queue. He slipped his shoes off, walked over and nestled into the bed next to him. Spy shifted to lay down more comfortably, his back facing away from Sniper. Sure, he had just let this man into his bed, but Spy was still a little afraid of initiating any physical contact- that was, until Sniper hesitantly wrapped an arm around Spy's frail frame. He tensed up on instinct; but slowly, he eased into the touch. Spy let out a relieved sigh and moved closer towards Sniper. A hand combed through his hair lazily. Spy knew he'd hate himself in the morning for being so damn vulnerable near his fellow co-worker, but for now, he was fine like this. He was safe. He was going to be okay.
Neither of them uttered a single word as they both drifted off to sleep. Just enjoying each other's presence. Spy was going to be okay.