#im so hungry but i got teeth extracted
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Departed Chap 4 Pt. 1
This is a long chapter so it’s going in two parts YEET
Ship: Slow burn Sprace
Warnings: None for this chapter yet?? But pt. 2 oof
It was 10:30 am by the time Spot was fully awake the next morning. Race was still asleep, his arm draped lazily across Spot’s stomach. For the moment, Spot decided to ignore the warm feeling that their closeness gave him, he’d deal with that later. As of right now, he had to get ready for the class he was instructing at the Tae Kwon Do studio at 11:15. He allowed himself two more minutes to lazily drink in the morning sunlight that shone across his bed, then carefully extracted himself from Race’s embrace and grabbed his uniform off of his desk chair.
Once he was dressed, he got to work cooking some scrambled eggs to eat before he left. A loud groan sounded from his bedroom and a few moments later, Race was dragging himself into the kitchen.
“Mornin’, Champ,” Spot greeted, smirking at Race’s obviously hungover state.
“I never wanna even see eggnog ever again,” Race grumbled, slinking over to the medicine cabinet and pulling out some Advil, “Ya got any orange juice?”
“Yeah, in the fridge,” Spot said, taking the eggs off of the heat and transferring half to a plate, “Ya want any eggs?”
Race nodded and Spot pulled out another plate for him, dumping the second half of the eggs onto it. Race poured two glasses of the orange juice and the two of them ate in peace.
Spot rinsed off the dishes while Race scrolled through his phone.
“How long you at work for today?” Race asked.
“Just ‘til two, itsa short day cuz of winter break.”
“Cool. Al was wonderin’ if we wanted to go ice skating later, should I tell him we’re in?”
“Yeah, I’m down.”
“Aight, everyone’s meetin’ at five.”
“Okay, I gotta head out.,” Spot said, grabbing his keys off of the hook, “I’ll see ya ‘round two ish. Ya know where ta find me.”
“‘Kay, bye.”
XXX
By the time the last class rolled around, Spot was at his wits end. Winter break having just started for the kids meant that they were exceptionally unfocused today, especially with the promise of snow that weekend.
“Aight, class, Charyut!” Spot called to the orange and green belts he was teaching at the moment, “We’re just goin’ ta go through your combinations real fast. When we move past the orange belt combos, all orange belts start back at the first one while the green belts do theirs, got it?”
A chorus of ‘yes, sirs’ rang from the group and Spot silently thanked the gods that this was one of his more mature classes.
“Good. Turn to your left with a loud yell, joon bi!” The class did so and Spot began to lead them through their combinations, only having to stop every so often to help a lost kid catch up. Twenty minutes later, he bowed out the class and went to get the mop from the back. He glanced at the clock, which read 1:30, and sighed.
‘Thirty minutes left,’ he thought to himself, pulling out his phone to listen to music, ‘then I’m off for two weeks.’ He grimaced and got to work cleaning the studio.
“Spot, man, I can clean,” Spot pulled out his headphones to see Elmer, his fellow instructor, crossing the mat to join him, “You’ve cleaned the past two times, it’s my turn, anyway.”
“Ya sure?” Spot asked.
“Positive,” Elmer said, already reaching out to take the mop from Spot, “Head home, man, Happy Holidays.”
“You’re a blessin’, Elmer, seriously,” Spot smiled, “Thank ya, Happy Holidays.”
“‘Course, I’ll see ya ‘round man.”
Spot signed out and waved to Elmer once more before leaving and walking to his car. He got back to the apartment at exactly 1:50 and found Race playing Fortnite in the living room. His eyes flickered away from the screen for a split second to look at Spot before returning his focus solely to the game.
“You’re back, early.” He said, his tone distracted.
“Yeah, Elmer offered ta clean,” Spot said, chuckling lightly as Race stuck his tongue between his teeth to concentrate, “I was wonderin’ when ya’d invade my X-Box.”
“Oh hush up, I’m doin’ better than you apparently have been.”
“Whatever, I’ma shower,” Spot said, already tugging off his black belt.
“Yeah, please do, you smell like feet- even from here.”
“Fuck you.”
“Only in ya dreams, Spottie-boy.”
By the time Spot got out of the shower, Race was in the kitchen hovering over the stove.
“Dude, ya don’t gotta cook anythin’,” Spot said, lazily towelling off his still damp hair, “We still have leftover lasagna and meatballs.”
“I know, but I saw this recipe for mac and cheese grilled cheese and ta hell if m’not trying it.”
Spot laughed, “Aight, just don’t make yourself sick.”
Race just shrugged as he pulled every kind of cheese that Spot owned out of the fridge, “Can’t make me any sicker than that goddamned eggnog from last night.” He said, squinting at the expiration date on some parmesan.
“Oh yeah, speakin’ of last night,” Spot said, tossing the towel over his shoulder and sitting at the kitchen counter, “How much d’you remember?”
Race stopped pulling out ingredients for a moment, furrowing his brows in thought, “Not much after I had summa Al’s weed. Why? Did I do somethin’ stupid?”
Spot hesitated, “You brought up Melissa.”
Race’s shoulders flinched slightly and he asked in a clipped tone, “Oh?”
“Yeah,” Spot bit his lip, trying to decide how to proceed through the conversation, “You, uh, told me about how she’d, uh, make you have sex-”
“Stop,” Race snapped, “Stop, I don’t wanna talk about this.”
“Race, you shouldn’t hafta handle this on your own. I-”
“Sean,” Race said, his voice dangerously low, “Stop talking.”
Spot nodded, “Alright, sorry.”
Race stood still for a moment before hastily shutting off the stove, “I’m not hungry anymore.” With that, he stalked out of the room. A second later, Spot could hear the bathroom fan turn on.
Spot sighed and got to work putting away all the ingredients and pots that Race had pulled out. It was obvious that Race wasn’t handling this whole ordeal as well as he had let on. He wanted to help him sort through it, but he couldn’t if Race refused to talk about it.
‘Oh well,’ He thought to himself, ‘I’ll let him come to me when he’s ready.’ He glanced at the clock. It was 2:30, which meant that they had about two hours before they had to head out to meet the others at the ice rink.
Race was evidently still camping in the bathroom, so Spot decided to go check on him.
He knocked lightly at the door, “Racer? You good?”
The door opened and Race pushed past Spot, his eyes obviously bloodshot.
“Yeah,” He called over his shoulder,“I’ma take a nap, wake me up when we gotta go.”
Spot felt worry itch at the back of his neck, but it was clear that Race wanted to be left alone, “Alright, I’m gonna do some grocery shopping, you want anything in particular?”
“No.”
Taking that as his cue to leave Race alone, Spot grabbed his keys off his hook and exited the apartment.
Although Race hadn’t asked for anything, Spot decided to pick him up a box of Honey Bunches of Oats. He figured he may as well get Race’s favorite if he was going to stay there for a while.
When he got back, he found Race fast asleep on his air mattress. It was still about an hour until they had to leave, so after putting away the groceries, Spot flipped on the TV and pulled up Netflix. He had just finished an episode of Breaking Bad whe Race stirred from across the room.
“What time’s it?” He mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“4:30, we should leave in fifteen minutes if we wanna get there by five.”
“Okay, I’ma jus’ change and freshen up real fast.”
Spot turned off the TV as Race made his way to the bathroom and pulled himself off the couch to grab a jacket and thicker socks to wear to the ice rink. When he got to his room, he found Race digging through his duffel with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth.
Spot scoffed, “What’re ya doin’?”
Race looked up at Spot, a bit of toothpaste smudged on his chin. He reached up and plucked the toothbrush out of his mouth, “M’lookin’ for my hat and gloves, but I think I left it back at my-uh..other place.”
“Here, jus’ borrow some of mine,” Spot suggested, strolling over to his closet and picking a blue winter hat and matching gloves out of a bin. He crossed the room to Race and placed the hat on his head.
“There,” Spot smiled, “Looks cute on ya.”
Spot froze, realizing that he had just called Race cute, but Race just smiled around the toothbrush, which was back in his mouth, “Thanks.”
“Uh..no problem.” Spot said, watching as Race stood up and went to the bathroom to rinse. He shook his head lightly- what was getting into him? First they had cuddled through the night before and now he was calling Race cute? Did he even have a right to do that since Race and Melissa were technically still in a relationship? Though he wasn’t entirely sure it was a relationship anymore, but they had never explicitly broken up. Beyond that, since when did Spot think about Race that way? Since when did-
“Spottie-boy, ya good?” Race said, effectively breaking Spot out of his thoughts, “You have the same look on your face thatcha have when you’re tryna do math.”
Spot scrunched his nose, “M’good, ya ready to roll?”
Race nodded and the two of them put on their jackets, hats, and gloves before leaving the apartment and walking down to Spot’s car.
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How would the mercs react if they found someone from the opposite team tied up and beaten and scared and claiming that their own team tortured them for info they had know knowledge about and begging for help?
tbh they probably had a say in it, but... wow here’s a ficlet because im sniperspy trash let’s be real
Sniper had heard the yelling from the basement, and so he’d figured what was going on. Captives were rare, and when they came along, they were usually only a snakelike Spy who had tried to sneak in, or a Scout that got too arrogant and overstepped his boundaries. Occasionally they’d take Medics, just to freak the enemy out, but Medics were hard to catch, and not worth it, usually. But Spies were, and the cries were unmistakably French.
He decided to go to the dining hall to grab a quick snack before he read before bed, but he ran into Medic on the way down. Medic was wearing almost all white, as usual, but his apron was stained with bright blood, and he was holding his hands up in the surgical position, trying to maneuver his way into the kitchen without touching anything. Sniper opened the door for him and stood back, watching him wash his hands.
“Danke. I wanted to clean up in my lab, but there was so much blood, I didn’t want to drip it. I like to keep the floors clean.” Medic said in a casual tone, stripping off his gloves and discarding them in the trash. He drank a glass of water and faced the assassin. “So what are you doing here?” Medic tilted his head. Sniper was usually the kind of guy who went to bed early, and it would have been strange for any of the mercs to see him up so late, but he couldn’t sleep. However, he didn’t feel hungry anymore.
“Glass o’ water.” He croaked and grabbed his own glass and drank from it. Medic nodded happily and patted him on the back, before leaving him alone. Sniper sat and thought for a moment.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, and if Medic was done, well...
Torture wasn’t Sniper’s thing. Didn’t do it, and it didn’t happen to him. Medic loved performing it, and although he wasn’t sure it was willingly so, his own team’s Spy had been the brunt of torture numerous times. But... truth be told, he’d never really seen torture. And it couldn’t be that bad, could it? He saw battles every day and stayed fine...
It was the same sickening curiosity that forces you to watch car crashes.
He quietly crept down the hallway until he came to the steel door and opened the deadbolt. As soon as it was opened, the figure inside stiffened. His arms were tied to the chair behind him, facing away from the door, and he had a thick blindfold on. Sniper frowned and stepped into the room. He walked around to the front of the Spy and stopped. Blood. Bruises. Metal instrument laid out so perfectly on the table. Sniper felt like he was going to be sick.
“Open yer’ mouth.” Sniper grunted at the Spy and the Spy didn’t respond, just sat frozen in his chair. A thin trickle of blood was coming from his mouth and judging by the tooth laying next to the instruments, it had been one of those extraction surgeries Medic loved so much. He grasped the Spy’s jaw and opened it forcefully, attempting to pour some of his water into his mouth. “Are you hungry?” He asked and the Spy shook his head, quickly. He gritted his teeth and looked back at the metal table. He picked the scalpel off of the table and placed it in the palm of the Spy’s hand. If he was as good as everyone said he was, he’d be able to get out with it. He would go after the team, not only because he was too weak, but because the security measures would stop him, as he didn’t have his watch to cloak with. “Do with that what ye’ will.” Sniper muttered and left the room, going back to his own to sleep in peace.
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