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Another loud crack from outside, rattling the windows of the Red base. Scout flinched despite himself, cursing inwardly. He hated thunderstorms. Fucking despised them even.
It wasn't like he was scared or anything, he just didn't like the thunder, that's all, nothing more. As bright lighting flashed across the rainy sky once more, he curled into himself slightly, clutching his arms tightly.
"Oi, mate, don't tell me you're scared of a little thunder." Scouts head snapped up to Sniper, sitting on the other side of the common room, cleaning his kukri. "I'm not 'scared', I just don't like the loud noises, dickhead."
The other man pulled up his eyebrows, but didn't retort anything and instead fixated in cleaning his knife again. Scout turned his attention back to his arms, flexing his fingers in a feeble attempt to distract himself from the tumult outside.
He hated this, hated how he was afraid of something so childish. He tried to focus on his breathing, but suddenly was interrupted by a deafening boom, making him flinch so violently, that he almost fell of the couch. "Vhat vas noise?" Heavy stood from his seat in the armchair, looking around as if searching for a threat that wasn't there.
Medic barely looked up from the novel he was reading, tapping his fingers against the cover slightly. "Sounds like zhe lighting struck a tree." His eyes flickered for a brief second to Scout, who tried to sink into the couch cushions as far as possible. "Nozing to worry about." The younger man narrowed his eyes.
"I'm not worried, man, lighting doesn't bother me, I don't know what you're all thinking, but I'm not scared." It didn't help with convincing the others as his voice hitched towards the end. "Ah, mon dieu." Spy exhaled a bout of smoke from his seat near the small fireplace.
"You're convincing nobody here, petit lapin, you look ready to bolt under ze table." He let out a chuckle, ignoring the way Scouts eyes burned holes into him. "Such a pathetic display."
Scout scowled, sitting up. "Yeah, well, screw you too, Frenchie." Spy smirked but said nothing more, watching as Scout crossed his arms and tried to act like he wasn’t ready to jump out of his skin at the next crack of thunder.
Spy’s fingers twitched around his cigarette. The sight of the younger man, small, curled in on himself, flinching at something as simple as a little storm, pulled something old from the depths of his mind. Something he thought he had buried long ago and hadn’t allowed himself to think about in years.
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"What are you doing, mon fils?" Spy stood in the doorway of the small room, lighting a cigarette. His gaze locked onto the trembling bundle on the bed, buried under a blanket. The Frenchman sighed and took a step closer, sitting on the edge of the bed frame.
"You don't need to be scared, it's just a little storm." A head appeared from under the blanket, a small boy, no older than six. "I'm not scared." A pout spread over the small face, despite his trembling. Spy felt a slight smile creep onto his face.
"Sure you're not." Another crack of thunder sounded from outside and lighting lit up the sky for barely a moment, before leaving it in darkness again. The boy let out a tiny squeak and bolted back under the blanket.
A gloved hand settled on his trembling back, rubbing slow soothing circles. "Shh, mon lapin." Spy murmured. "It's okay, the thunder can't reach you here." He shifted a bit closer, carefully not to startle the kid any further. "Do you want to come out from under the blanket?" It was silent for a minute, before an almost inaudible voice sounded through the room. "No. It's too loud."
The Frenchman sighed again, reaching into his suit jacket. He wasn't very good at this whole parenting thing, he wasn't used to carry about someone, especially not about a small human. He didn't know if his plan would work, but maybe if he gave the kid something to distract himself, he would come out of his hiding.
Spy finally found what he was searching for and laid it in front of the blanket huddle. It took a few seconds, till the boy peeked out slightly, looking curiously at the small package on the bed. As he took it into his trembling hands, he realized that it was a pack of playing cards.
"You want to play a game? Spy smiled slightly down at him. He took the cards from his sons hands and started shuffling them. "I'll teach you how it's done." The kid nodded, seeming slightly less scared of the thunderstorm outside now and more intrigued about learning the rules of the game.
Over the next hour, the Frenchman taught him how to play, the boy flinching less and less at the cracks of thunder, as he was caught in game of cards. By the time the last of the storm had died down, his small frame was slumped against Spys shoulder, his breathing evening out, as he finally fell asleep.
The older man looked down at him, a kind of fondness in his eyes, that he rarely allowed himself to show. He reached out to ruffle the boys hair, gently, to not wake him up. Before he stood to leave the room, Spy made sure that the kid laid comfortable and was tucked under the blanket properly. "Sleep well, Jeremy."
With that, he left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.
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Another crack of thunder brought Spy back to reality. The others had meanwhile joined in on teasing Scout about the storm, but the younger man was clearly reaching his limit. His jaw was tight, his hands gripping his arms, trying not to let on how much the storm was affecting him.
Spy sighed. He really shouldn't do this. Hell, he didn't do this in about 20 years, ever since the night he left the small house in Boston, leaving his lover and his son behind. Scout didn't know. He would never know. But as he looked again, noting the slight trembling of his shoulders, the way his eyes flickered across the room in a panic, every time lighting flashed across the sky, something deeply buried stirred in Spys chest.
Spy pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing under his breath for what he's about to do and reached into his suit jacket, fingers brushing over a familiar pack. He hesitated. Then, with a small sigh, he flicked his wrist and sent a bunch of playing cards sailing through the air, landing on the tiny coffee table in front of him.
Scout blinked. "What the hell?" He leaned forward, looking utterly confused at the cards. The rest of the team had stopped making fun of Scout by now and also looked intrigued at the cards.
Scout scoffed. "What, are you doing?" Spy gave a nonchalant shrug, smirking slightly. "Passing the time," he said simply. "Unless, of course, you would rather continue trembling like a frightened, little rabbit?" Scout scowled. "I ain’t—!" He stopped himself, then exhaled sharply. "Whatever. Deal me in."
Spy smirked, starting to shuffle the cards, before dealing them, the game drawing Scout’s focus away from the storm, just like it did before years ago. The thunder continued rumbling, but Scout’s shoulders slowly relaxed, his grip on the cards steadying, as he leaned slightly away from Sniper, as the latter tried to take a peak at his cards.
It wasn't like Scout remembered how he learned to play cards and Spy would also never tell him. Ever. But in moments like these, as rarely as they happened, Spy felt slightly less afar from his son than usual.