The Strongest of Us (Tf2 x Reader)

35. Lenny And The Rabbits

(Y/N) stumbled into the base on what felt like a drunken stupor. The cigarette was near falling from her dry lips and now it wasn't the only thing that tasted of nicotine.

She didn't bother finding something to eat when she came to the kitchen. She needed a fucking drink. Something strong. Something powerful. Something that would make her mind buzz until it just stopped altogether. She needed a sweet poison that wouldn't be her killer. Yet.

If she had asked the men where the liquor was, they would have denied her request and sent her right off to bed. The cowards. It wasn't like they hadn't killed a man before. Maybe not as brutally as she did, but still...

Not even a desert storm could have made as much noise as she did raiding the kitchen. The noise would occasionally pause when she had to take a drag from her cigarette. She would lean back on the counter, letting the smoke fall from her lips effortlessly, not even bothering to waste the air from her lungs. Then, her search continued on. A few of the men tried to stop her, but they were sent away by a single flick of her wrist and not a single word.

It took way too long to discover the stash, put away where she could just barely reach it. She knew immediately who put it up there.

Here's a few wise words she learned from someone...

just use a stool.

She clambered up the small stool in her tired stupor. Her hands reached for one of the bottles, and she pulled down a bottle of rum, much to her luck. The stool groaned beneath her and she did it the favor of getting off, turning the bottle in her hands.

"What happened?" A whisper came from the doorway. The accent was tricky to figure out.

(Y/N) turned on her heels slowly, just to see nothing but thin air in front of her. Her expression remained tired but blank.

"You gonna talk to me like a man, or are you going to hide like usual?" She called out to what someone might think was an empty room.

There was a waft of cologne and a flush of scent-less smoke, and there he was. (Y/N)'s cigarette end was just barely brushing against his tie and she looked up to meet his bleary eyes.

"What happened?" He felt the need to repeat himself.

"Just something I didn't expect. Don't know what's the big deal," (Y/N) shrugged, then brushed right by the Frenchman, still hugging her rum tight. He was quick to follow.

"What was stopping him from shooting you while you were driving?" Spy shot, eyeing the cigarette butt she carelessly flicked off to the side for someone to find.

"Maybe it was because I was driving, and if I were to suddenly swerve off the road, not only would he be assuring my death, he would be assuring his own," (Y/N) shrugged, unscrewing the cork from the rum bottle. "And, to me, he didn't seem to like you lot all too much. So, he could have been trying to take the team out as well as me. A free ride to kill two birds with one stone." She shoved her reasoning into a few second analogy, like the Frenchman's brain couldn't handle what she was laying down.

(Y/N) brought the bottle to her lips, prepared to knock back a swift drink of sweet booze. A hand stopped the bottle from tipping back and the liquid lurched in the wrong direction. She huffed and glared as the bottle was taken from her.

"Rum is such a primitive drink," Spy said cooly. "I have wine and champagne in my room. Much more suiting, I believe."

(Y/N) squinted, "I thought you'd only drink champagne when something good happens, or when you're happy." She reached for the bottle, but Spy gave no indication of giving it back.