Work Text:
“Oi, mate. Crocodile,” Sniper said in his ruggedly Australian accent.
“Bonjour?” the outrageously French Spy responded Frenchly.
“All through Australian middle school, I always wanted to be the Australian prom queen of Australia.”
“Oui?”
“Sydney! Steve Irwin!” Sniper pronounced with his vocal chords, “Now that we are seniors in high school and also deadly mercenaries, I can finally be THE PROM QUEEN EXTRAORDINAIRE ! … AUSTRALIA!”
“Non,” Spy Frenched at Sniper.
“You’re right, my fellow high school mercenary who is French! I can’t be prom queen. There are too many problems with my plan. First, I don’t have a dress. Prom queens need dresses. Spy, French people are practically girls, you should buy me the prettiest dress you can. Just don’t get any of your French on it. I need it to be a rugged Australian pretty pretty princess dress,” Sniper forgot to get his Australianess in his dialogue words, so he added, “Koala. Outback.”
“J'ai utilisé un traducteur en ligne.”
Sniper face palmed by putting his face and palm together, “How could I be so stupid! That’s right! I can never be prom queen. Since—Crocodile Dundee—since Medic is always voted prom queen. He graduated last year, but that won’t stop him from winning the vote. Kangaroo.”
“Comment voulez-vous dire des mots en tapant.”
“Really? You’ll help me, Spy? Boomerang?”
Now it is the day of prom. There was a time jump just now because the earlier parts of the story happened a few weeks ago.
“Oh, Spy! This dress you got me is so amazing! It’s kawaii-Australia-desu” Sniper twirled in a circle, “I’ll be voted prom queen for sure. Everyone will see how much better I am than Medic. His Germanly lederhosen bratwurst Germaness will never compare to my ruggedly Australian outback Australianity. I am a sniper.”
Spy merely nodded. He didn’t say anything because I don’t know any more French, and I don’t feel like using an internet translator again right now. He held his arm out so Sniper could hold on to it while they walked in to wherever the dance was taking place. The school gym or something.
Sniper and Spy made a very handsome couple as they entered the gym or wherever. They were almost as good at being gorgeous as they were at mercilessly killing people. Because they are mercenaries. Ruggedly Australian mercenaries. Except for Spy, who is French.
“Baguette!” Spy exclaimed suddenly, as the author remembered another French word.
Sniper fluttered his eyes at his date, “Oh, Spy, you are so romantic! Vegemite! I guess that is to be expected because you are French.”
((A/N: so lyk i got writers block so were just gonna jump ahed to l8r that nyt ~ gomen minna-san! <3 <3 <3))
“Attention, five minutes left in the dance. Five minutes left in the dance,” Principal Helen spoke into the microphone at the front of the stage, “Prepare to vote from homecoming royalty.”
Principal Saxton cleared his throat while ripping off his shirt and using it to strangle a hippie, “Homecoming is a sissy dance! This is the action-packed issue of PROM.”
There are two principals at TFi High because Helen and Saxton couldn’t agree on which one of them should be principal. Pauling, Reddy, and Bidwell are all the vice principals. ((A/N: OMG, u don’t know who they r? n00b! reed teh comicks. they doesnt really matter n teh story. i just wanted 2 include mai babys))
Students rushed to the voting booths. Medic stood on Heavy next to the booths, flashing a trillion-dollar smile, reminding the student body that he was most deserving of the prom queen title. Heavy’s large potato Russianess perfectly complemented Medic’s Aryan Germaness. Sniper worried his lower lip. He was so worried that he wouldn’t get to live his dream. Spy rubbed his back, trying to comfort him because they are OTPs.
In between eating steaks and being the paragon of manliness, Principal Saxton ordered Vice Principal Reddy to tally the votes. Reddy made the most surprised face when he was done, “This… it can’t be… It is a tie!”
Helen double checked and also made the most surprised face, “You’ve failed. Stalemate.”
“Medic, Sniper,” Bidwell handed Saxton another steak, “Come up here while we deal with this most unexpected event that is definitely not a plot device.”
Medic sneered at Sniper. He didn’t understand how the Australian could have possibly gotten that many votes for prom queen. Sniper wasn’t even wearing a hat. What kind of mercenary was he?
Vice Principal Pauling skimmed through a ten thousand page manual entitled The Most Officially Official Rules of Prom, Volume XIV of XXVIII, trying to find a solution to the tie. She stopped on page one thousand three hundred thirty seven ((A/N: thats l33t, arent i so clever???)) In shock, she handed the book over to Saxton.
“What is this? It’s not a steak! A-a book? What is this hippie nonsense?!” Regardless, Saxton read the page, “GASP! I am gasping at these words I have read with my eyes,” he turned to address the student body, who were all dancing to a catchy song that was at the top of the Billboard music list, “Everyone! It has come to my attention that, in order to be voted prom queen, one must be,” he paused dramatically for dramatic effect because drama makes stories better, “a female!”
A collective gasp was emitted from the students as they instantly stopped dancing in shock. Medic, who was very much not female, had been voted prom queen the last seven years.
“Reddy! Who was in third place?” Saxton asked, half of his attention on wrestling the lion that just burst into the gym.
“Nobody, sir. Only Sniper and Medic received any votes.”
The faculty hmmmed, trying to solve this conundrum. The students would surely degenerate into a riot if they didn’t have a prom queen. Principal Saxton had wrestled three lions, five gorillas, and a polar bear, and had eaten seven steaks before he came up with an idea. The students spent that entire time doing absolutely nothing. Well, I suppose they had to breathe. And probably blink. Some of them probably got some punch, too. And lots of small talk, I’m sure. But other than that, absolutely nothing.
“Hippies! I mean, students!” Saxton exclaimed with exclamation and yelling, “Since the prom queen must be female, the prom queen must be PRINCIPAL HELEN!”
Polite clapping erupted from everyone, except Medic and Sniper. Medic huffed and stormed out of the gym. Germanly.
“Victory!” Helen made put an expression on her countenance. It was the expression that made the most sense in this situation.
Later that night, in his camper van, Sniper was still moping about losing. Spy tried to comfort him with softly spoken French words, but Sniper’s mood was too terrible to be lifted. He was like a black hole for happiness. All the happiness was sucked away, leaving behind nothing but soul-crushing sorrow. Just being around him was enough to make Spy depressed, too. He didn’t know what to do, so he had to pull out the big guns.
Not literal guns, even though Spy had plenty of those.
Spy stroked his Ambassador. Not the literal gun, again. This Ambassador was the one he would use to investigate Sniper’s Razorback, if you know what I mean. While he was busy Sapping the other mercenary, Spy reached around and gave Sniper’s Bushwacka his Eternal Reward.
It was all really hot.
Sniper was so caught up in everything that he forgot all about his prom queen dreams. And everyone lived happily ever after. Except for all the hippies Saxton killed.