Scout wanted to bonk himself in the head with his own bat for what he was doing.

This was stupid. He was stupid. He told himself, hell, he swore this was gonna be the last time. No more sneaking out. No more meeting up in secret. No more crossing the line.

And yet, here he was again, slipping out of his base in the dead of night, just to see you. You, with that stupidly good looking face. That smirk that made his chest feel all weird. And that stupid BLU uniform. His enemy.

His. Enemy.

Inter-company friendship was strictly forbidden. The contract spelled it out in bold letters, probably just so idiots like him couldn't pretend they didn't see it. But what you and him had going on sure as hell wasn't just "friendship." This was breaking every rule in the book, and for what?

For the way you looked at him? For the way you touched him?

...Yeah. Yeah, pretty much.

Scout dragged a hand down his face, gripping his bat in the other like it was gonna knock some sense into him. "Ya got no self-control, man," he muttered to himself under his breath. He tugged his cap lower as he weaved through the RED base, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. No one really paid much attention to him, not even Heavy, who was too busy eating his tenth sandwich of the day.

Every step toward the usual meeting place felt like an agonizing mistake, yet his feet kept carrying him forward, like some dumb puppy too lost in his own ego to notice how much he was risking. It was already bad, but if they kept this up, someone was gonna catch on eventually.

Of course you were here first. Scout saw you before you saw him, standing there like you owned the place. Well, technically, this was neutral ground, so neither of you owned anything, but that cocky look on your face made his stomach do some real stupid flips.

Scout hesitated for half a second, his heart jackhammering against his ribs. It was always like this. He'd swear up and down that he was done, that he had self-control, and then the second he saw you, his brain melted like a popsicle in the sun.

Damn you, looking all smug and ready to mess with him.

Scout tried to play it cool by stuffing one hand in his pocket, his bat resting lazily against his shoulder as he sauntered up to you. "Yo," he said, but his voice wavered slightly. His eyes flicked away, avoiding yours, because if he looked at you for too long he was screwed.

"Look, I was thinkin'," he started, licking his lips, "maybe we should call it quits, yeah?" That was smart, right? Logical. The right thing to do. He wasn't supposed to be this close to you, wasn't supposed to even be talking to you, let alone... well, everything else.

Scout swallowed hard, stepping back on instinct, but it didn't help that his back was now against the wall. "This... this thing we got goin' here. It's stupid. We can't keep frickin' around like thi—"

He barely got the words out before you stepped in close, real close, hands already finding their way to him.

Scout's body went rigid for a split second, and then his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. "Hey, hey, whoa—are ya even listenin'?!" His voice came out in a strange mix of frustration and breathlessness. He realized it was pointless since you seemed way too busy grabbing at his shirt and pulling him closer to hear anything he was saying.

He was so screwed.