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New Mexico was always a journey. Mick Mundy always told himself so. It’s just a journey. It won’t be permanent. Or so he thought.
As he rode in his van through the dusty streets and basked in the sunlight that could never reach his eyes due to his hat, Mick Mundy pondered approaching his darling once he got back on base.
His lovely Jeremy was alone for 3 months, or rather, he was Sniperless, for three months. Sniper himself? He was stationed in New York for an outside contractor who demanded an assassination.
Mann Co. made big money on that deal. Sniper wondered if the money’d even brush his paycheck.
He rode with an old tune playing, a tune he had on replay when he was alone. It was wordless, beautiful, and rather calming. He enjoyed such solace. Just him and a tune that brought memories one often forgets unless some nostalgic tune brings them back.
He remembered baking cookies with his mother, and how he asked for the chocolate chips and the cookie itself to be separate. He remembered how he asked his dad to not use sandpaper around him because the noise and the texture made him shiver.
He remembered being loved in such an easy way, by his parents, who had recently passed and yet he couldn’t bear to think it was a bad thing. They lived a good life. They had memories no one else had.
Dancing in the Sydney Opera House when it got made in 73’ and watching the stars. That was the night they had made him. He asked them, because he was curious. Born in 74, Mick was only 26 now and yet parentless.
And still- there was a boy who had so many brothers he learned to accommodate even the worst quirks Mick had. No scraping the chair. No pushing plates on the table if possible. No clinking against a glass, unless he was a distance away.
Jeremy accommodated his every whim and loved him more for each one. Mick enjoyed his attention. More than anything in the world, because this boy, only 4 years younger than him, had learned him, head to toe and still saw something worth loving.
When Mick’s van came to a stop at a red-painted, rustic gas station, he got himself a 60 cent hot dog and a bouquet of flowers for Jeremy when he’d finally see him.
“For the pretty lass, aye?” The clearly Scottish man asked, ringing up the items.
“Yeah, ‘er, somethin’ like that.” Mick smiled to himself, knowing better but not speaking on it.
Mick’s drive remained with that one tune on repeat, because how could he get sick of it? And finally, hours later, the base was within the sniper’s sightlines.
…
Jeremy jumped into his arms, crushing the man with strength that seemed too much for such a little creature. Mick slowly wrapped his arms back around him, not necessarily rubbing Jer’s back or squeezing him too tight, but he was back, alive and well.
“You’ve gotta tell me everything, man!” Jeremy chuckled against his lover, looking up at him.
“Hey, roo.” Mick mumbled, looking down at the bunny-looking boy and slowly untangled himself from his grip. “Got ya’ a lil’ somethin’.”
“You didn’t have to!” Jeremy insisted almost immediately, but his eyes widened slightly and the skin around them crinkled as he tried to hide the smile on his face. He couldn’t. Not from Mick.
Mick patiently walked Jeremy into his van and sat him down, before handing him the bouquet. It was simple red roses. Clearly bought at a gas station.
“You’ve thought about me on your way home?!” Jeremy grinned, entirely too happy with this newfound knowledge. Not for a second did he think “oh, these must have been cheap” or something along the crap of “gas station flowers? really?”.
“Of course, roo.” Mick responded gently, slowly sliding his thumb across Jeremy’s cheek. “Always think’ bout ya’.” He smiled, only a little.
“Dee!” Jeremy chuckled. “You’re so sweet, man. I don’t know how to repay ya.” He admitted, slightly slumping in the chair.
“You don’t hafta.” Mick waved his hand animatedly. “Just glad ya’ like them, baby.” Mick almost drawled and if Jeremy’s skin had goosebumps it was an optical illusion and never happened.
“I am for one very glad you’re back.” Jeremy says slowly. “Spy doesn’t share my opinion. But hey, screw that guy!” Jeremy grins again, that toothy, white beautiful grin.
“I don’t think I wanna screw your pa.” Mick siad slowly, as if wondering why Jeremy even suggested that in the first place.
“I didn’t mean literally!” Jeremy laughs, petting the space besides him, which only consisted of a night table and Mick sat down. Scout lied his head on Mick’s thigh and exhaled sharply.
“You’re home.” He said gently. “I told Engie to not do any woodwork tomorrow. No sand paper, or sand-papering of any wood, or whatever else gets sand-papered!” Jeremy exclaimed proudly, his eyes radiating the way the Sun does on a particularly glorious day.
“Yer’ a good partner, Jer.” Mick mumbled, petting Jeremy’s head. He shaved again, hm.
“I hope I am. Oh, and Spy’s missing.” Jeremy said calmly, as if this wasn’t a big deal. Which, well, it usually wasn’t. The Frenchman went on many adventures without telling anyone, and came back days later without even apologising.
“He leave a note?” Mick asked, his hand now resting on top of Jeremy’s head as the younger nuzzled into his thigh.
“Nope!” Jeremy smirked into his thigh, Mick felt the way his cheek slightly pressed against his muscle.
“The bastard will be back, don’t worry yer’ pretty little head about it, roo.” Mick said gently.
“I ain’t worried, it’s just weird that the bastard gets to go on a vacation and no one cares.” Jeremy rolled his eyes, and sighed into Mick’s thigh. The younger slowly wrapped his arms around Mick’s calf and rested his hands on his gastrocnemius muscles.
“When I sleep off this ride, I’ll take ya’ somewhere.” Mick mumbled, resuming the petting potion and calming Jeremy down. He didn’t feel like listening to loudness right now.
“Ya promise?!” Jeremy perked up, looking up at his darling. Still too loud, but so excited that Mick really couldn’t find it in himself to complain.
“I do, roo. Now let an old man lie down, yeah?” The older grinned, slowly feeling the hands leave his calf and sit normally.
Mick moved to his bed, kicking off his shoes and rested his hat on top of his face.
“Can I come?” Jeremy asked slowly. He was almost careful. Mick could find it in himself to appreciate that.
“You don’t gotta ask, love.” Mick responded gently, already putting his arm out for the younger’s head to rest on. As it did everytime they slept.
Scout was by his side in seconds, head already lying on his bicep, one leg wrapped around his waist and a hand resting on his chest.
“Missed ya’ a lot.” Mick whispers, almost half asleep.
“Yeah.” Jeremy whispered, closing his own eyes. “I missed ya’ too.”