Scout was ready for the blows when they landed—a flat palm, then a stiff backhand. Spy still gripped the young man’s torso between his legs, and the latter made little sounds of relish at each slap, his fingers digging into the bedspread and Sniper’s thigh, respectively.
“Non,” Spy warned, plucking Scout’s hand away. “My friend has had his fun. He will watch, this time.” Spy’s expression hardened as he met Sniper’s surprised look. “And he will benefit from my tutelage, no doubt. Because—” he gently seized Scout’s throat, bore him back on his heels, and finally to the carpet. “—I question seriously that he was able to intuit your true nature. Is that right? Say yes.” He gave Scout a little shake.
“Heya guys, you caught me on my way out. Gonna go see the doc; been having some headaches, y’know?”
Scout’s eyes were vague and hungry, with lavender circles beneath. “Spy!” he looked at the agent as if stumbling, “They fixed that respawn thing, huh? Great! Yeah. Glad you made it out, man. Let’s catch up sometime; I’m late for my appointment, y’know how he gets—”
“I have just been to see the good doctor. He wished to examine me, to make sure there were no complications, from my technical difficulties. He will be busy for the rest of the day, but he instructed that I bring you these—” Spy flourished a little envelope at Scout, who snatched it and ripped it open, dumping two nondescript pills into his palm. “—for your ‘headaches’,” Spy finished, as the impatient patient bounced away for a mouthful of water.
Spy let himself in, beckoning Sniper to follow. He shut the door behind them. Scout had been listening to music in the listless afternoon, and the cluttered little room was dim.
“What the hell was that?” Sniper whispered, but the young man was back, looking infinitely relieved.
“Thank you, jesus,” he said, flopping down on the floor. He gestured to the bed. “Come in. Limited seating, guys. Sorry. You bored as me? I am so fuckin’ over this whole ‘snow day’ thing. Can’t even get outside to move around.”
Sniper was still smoking Spy’s cigarette—the agent pulled out two more and tapped them on his case. “Absolument, I am bored. May I offer you one? I find good tobacco often relieves my headaches.” He held it out, but not too far. Scout had to turn onto his knees and stretch for it, but the cigarette eluded his grasp at the last second. Sniper saw the look pass between them—Spy smirking sweetly, teasing the treat just out of reach; the boy looking up, meeting the agent’s eyes, and falling in.
Scout crawled the last few feet, and sat on his heels at Spy’s knees. His lips parted to accept the cigarette placed between them, and he sat very still, while the latter lit his own. And then, as if performing a benediction, the spy bent at the waist, laid fingertips along the young man’s jaw, and brought his hot cherry to the unlit tip. They sucked, coaxing the burn between them. The glow lit both their faces golden, and Sniper stopped breathing.