#bubblegum-cryptid

There’s not much Scout’s expecting when he sprints into the little wood room behind point since literally no one ever comes in here unless they’re actively flanking, and in fact he almost totally misses it, but he tosses a little glance backwards and he sees blue in the corner and his brain goes Spy.

So he shoots, and he misses, and for a second his mind fizzles out until he sees the suit and the symbol and the still-sparking flamethrower and he realizes that’s Pyro, ain’t it, which is extra disturbing considering their mask is set on the floor besides them and they are staring up at him with wide unblinking eyes and he can see their eyes and something is very wrong.

They try to say something but it comes out as a sob. Scout falls over on his way to them but he scrambles up onto his knees and grabs their mask, tries to put it back in their hands even if they won’t take it, and finally he just gives up and looks at the ground and squeezes them and tries to convince himself nothing’s probably that wrong.

“Hey, c’mon, what’s this?” he says, anyway, just for good measure and all that. “I swear to god Mumbles. Tell me.”

They sigh for a long time, and finally they say: “Scoutie? Can you be honest?”

“Yeah,” Scout says—he rubs their back, rocks, tries not to look up even if they don’t seem to care. “Y-yeah, you know I will. What’s up?”

“… Do you hate me?”

“That’s… that’s stupid. Don’t ask that.”

Pyro flinches and sobs for a long time and god, this is the freakin’ worst. Remind him not to do whatever got Pyro like this ever again.

Eventually, they clear their throat and they gasp ‘n groan and say: “Have I hurt you before?”

And to be completely honest, Scout isn’t sure how to answer this.

He can’t say no, because that would be lying. He wants to say no. Instead he says: “Well so has Engie, but you don’t see him crying about it,” and Pyro makes a weird kinda laughing sound and they grip him a lot harder, and this is at least sort of better than a few seconds ago.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Again with the questions, god.” His shirt’s soaked through with—to be honest probably both of their tears at this point. “And what! No way. Why’d I be scared of you, you’re like a—“ come up with something Scoutie—“like a, uh, animal… or something. A cute one.” Good one. “I mean like unicorns. No offense but—“

“But I kill you all the time. And set you on fire and stuff. And—and that’s not what I’m supposed to do, is it? You don’t like that?”

“Well… I don’t like it, at all. But it’s your job, and anyway after we go out for ice cream and bowling and watch TV and set things on fire and I think that makes up for it.”

Pyro is quiet for a long time, and Scout almost thinks they’re done.

This is a mistake.

“One time on Dustbowl,” they say, and Scout knows this is going to be a headache. “One time I was chasing you around—you, instead of the medic, and instead of the spy, ‘cause I was having so much fun and you’re so fun to catch and—and I cornered you cause you’re bad at looking ahead and you said Pyro, stop it, come on, don’t kill me, and then I didn’t listen and I set you on fire anyway and…”

“Hey…”

Pyro chokes. “And you screamed. I… heard you scream. Actually.”

“… Yeah?”

“I mean you didn’t laugh, or nothing… just hurt. I hurt you. And I think all those other times I hurt you too and… couldn’t think hard enough to notice that.”

Scout’s throat is completely totally dry, but he swallows. “Big whoop.” Is he really gonna say this? “It’s your job. I get it. It’s not that big of a deal, okay? I’m here right now.”

What’s the word? Patronizing. You’re a gigantic fucking dickhead Scoutie. “And even right now you’re trying to hard to make me think that I’m… not hurting you. I know I am. I can handle it, Scoutie.”

“And so what if you are? How many times do I have to tell you you’re fine ‘fore you just shut up and listen?”

“I just don’t understand why… why you try so hard for me. Even though I do nothing back. I don’t think I deserve it—“

“Shut up or I’ll punch you.” Scout means it. “You’re wrong. You’re fuckin’ wrong, okay? I—just ‘cause you go around setting shit on fire—setting me on fire—just doing your thing—shit. Look, I… look. God, this is hard.”

Pyro squints, but thankfully says nothing.

“Look—if I was good with words I would prob’ly say some big stupid thing about how great you are and how freaking stupid you’re being right now and—and all that. But obviously I ain’t, so…” Scout takes a deep breath, hopes the words start comin’. “D’ya remember that time—that one time you stole your Engie’s truck, right, and drove it down to my base even though it was a stupid idea and Sniper shot out the headlight and we went ‘n got ice cream in Teufort and… and made out in that alley behind the bookstore that ain’t there anymore?”

“And then we got mugged,” Pyro says, sniffling.

“Yeah. Then we got mugged. An’ you grabbed that guy on the shoulder and flipped his whole ass over onto the ground and took his wallet and then we split before the cops rolled up.”

“You’re terrible at telling stories. The cops did roll up. We got arrested.”

“And we burned the jail down and didn’t pay them a cent of bail money,” Scout says. “That’s like the first time that happened. And—and then I remember, specifically when I was getaway driving and shit ‘cause you hurt your hand—“

“You’re the worst driver I know.”

“I know. You said that. But we crashed the car in the ravine and I remember you turning to me, and your mask was just a lil’ like off and I remember seeing you grinning like the widest I ever seen. And you turned to me and you said ‘that was fun’. Like, completely straight.”

“That’s not what I sound like.”

“Yes it is. And anyway you just—I mean, we just got arrested and your hand was prob’ly broken and we crashed the truck in the ravine and we both knew both of our Engies were gonna kill us, probably at the same time, and I was just crying ‘cause I was worried I ruined everything and I heard that and, like, wow. And you leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and I realized you were just having the time of your freakin’ life and I think that’s when I knew that it was all worth it—that no matter what I did you’d just be okay with it, because you’re insane in a good way. Cause you’re so weird and out there and nothing like anything I ever dealt with and I love it, and I love you, and don’t you ever say you don’t deserve anything ever again, okay?”

And Scout reaches for more words, and he finds that there is none.

Ran out of things to talk about. Imagine that. And Pyro just shakes for a long time, and holds onto him tight tight tight, and it must be like five minutes before they open their eyes, he feels them smiling against his forehead, and they say: “Scoutie, you’re too good for me.”

“Shut up, no I ain’t.”

“Okay, fine.” They’re laughing. That’s a good sign. “Fine. I’m too good for you, huh?”

“There you go.” He’s still crying. Why is he still crying? “Now you’re gettin’ it.”

Pyro doesn’t say anything after this, for a little while. They just sit, and hug him, and he hugs them back, and things explode outside, and Pyro smells like smoke and antifreeze and probably asbestos and Scout just buries his head in the crook of their neck and tries to hold on tight as he can.

“… I take it back,” they mumble, after a really really long time. “You’re good at telling stories.”

“You know it, numbnuts.”

“We should probably get going at some point.”

“I think we should stay here… longer.” Good one. “Just for a little bit. Please?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“… Thanks. I love you. All that mushy stuff.”