Another short fiction for that Valentines week prompt list c: This is more platonic/friendship centered around my two TF2 OCs!

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Miles and Klein discuss the few hobbies they’ve kept in their time as RED mercenaries.

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“What are you doing with that?” Klein’s voice pulled the marksman’s attention away from his sketch. Miles shuffled over to make room as his friend climbed out onto the roof to join him. He gestured to the view of their latest base assignment. “Drawing this,” he said nonchalantly, turning his focus back to his notebook. Klein blinked in surprise. “Since when do you draw?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “And why draw the bases?” he added as Miles scribbled in another roofline. The marksman shrugged and smiled warmly.

“You keep your journal, I keep mine. Mine just has a lot less words in it,” he explained, holding the notebook so Klein could see the drawing. “I like to sketch the bases we go to, especially new ones. Sometimes I’ll add in little details here and there, about my fights or things Sniper tells me about the place.” Klein studied the pages, a surprisingly accurate representation of their view from the rooftops. He chuckled softly at one of the small scribbles in the margins.

“What’s this for?” the blonde asked, pointing to the crude drawing of what he assumed to be an enemy Spy. Miles stifled a laugh. “Bastard backstabbed Sniper twice in one round, so Sniper got him back with jarate and an arrow to the head,” he explained, trying to hold back laughter. “Is that why there’s… stink lines?” Miles smirked and nodded. Klein shook his head. “You are an absolute child,” he teased. “But it is kind of funny,” he added with a laugh.

Miles grinned and flipped through some of the other pages he’d drawn. “I have other stories, hold on! You’ll like some of them,” he insisted, gesturing for his companion to pay attention. “Like the underwater Pyro from Well, he was something else!” Klein merely smiled and listened intently as his friend told him stories, occasionally jumping into ones he had witnessed as well.

Before either of them had noticed, the sun had nearly set and the fading daylight no longer offered enough light to draw by. Miles packed his journal away in his vest. “Let’s go before Scout eats our dinner, doc,” he decided, holding out a hand to help Klein to his feet. Klein chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Oh, such a gentleman,” he joked as the two clambered back into their base. “Professionals have standards, even outside of battle,” Miles insisted, quoting his mentor in an air of professionalism. Klein stifled a laugh as the two headed downstairs in search of dinner.