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War was in full swing that day, bashing down everything and everybody that came in its way. The BLU Scout thought he might leave relatively unscathed at the beginning, but that idea was soon to be opposed by the fierceness of the battle, and the particular the rivalry between two of his ‘field-mates’ the BLU Soldier and the RED Demoman. Why they had come to start fighting each other so fiercely, everybody knew. It didn’t help that the Administrator was screeching loud orders from where she sat observing the fight, ordering to kill each other as much as possible.
They were once ‘friends’, apparently. The best of friends even.
In the ceasefires they would hang out together at the local bar, relishing their time with each other as they spent most of their time drinking, fighting, fooling around and telling stories. Everybody knew what was going by the third ceasefire. They’d stopped attacking each other, taking to the highest towers where the snipers usually where and hanging out there instead, laughing at the rest who had had to follow orders from the Administrator. Of course, their actions didn’t go by unnoticed, and soon, they were punished for what they’d done and what they’d made together, ordered by that devil of a woman to fight each other to their deaths. What had made them hate each other so, after being such good friends, nobody ever knew. But now they did, and to the young mind of the BLU Scout, that was all that really mattered.
In all his brute honesty, the Soldier had it coming for him. I mean, befriending a dude from RED? Even that was just begging for torture, let alone death. Yeah, he had it coming for him.
But the Scout? No, he didn’t deserve the brunt of any of this rivalry.
The Scout stood quietly as his grip on his gun slowly grew loose, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. Above him, bits of cement and metal debris fell, showing off glimpses of the inside structure within the (supposedly) sturdy concrete building. He flinched as a small blue bed came falling down, crashing into several cracked pieces as it impacted the hard ground unforgivingly.
That was his bed.
Within the now obsolete structure of a building he could see what used to be two bedrooms, blown up to smithereens by the hands of the opposing Demoman.
One of them was his room.
His hands slowly slid to the sides of his head as he fell, knees hitting sandy grounds. His fingers clenched his short hair as he kneeled there, motionlessly gaping at the hole that was once his and the BLU Soldier’s sleeping quarters.
“…Oh my GOD! THAT’S MY FUCKIN’ ROOM!”
As he remained on the ground, gaping soundlessly at the destruction, the Administrator calmly ended the day’s mission as a stalemate, warning the RED Demoman that building destruction would not be tolerated, even under special circumstances. The man just smirked as he looked up to the speakers and took a swing of his whiskey, jogging away from the scene before the currently dead BLU Soldier could respawn and blow him up to smithereens for what he’d done.
As the RED team laughed and cheered at Demoman’s destruction, the BLU team gathered around the distraught Scout and stared at what was left of the two rooms, all in silence for what seemed to be the longest time.
“Well,” The BLU Sniper said as he put a hand on the Scout’s shoulder in an awkward attempt to cheer him up. “It’s not like there wasn’t anything important there, was there?”
Scout turned back slowly and just stared at him with wide eyes for a second. “…My collection was in there man! The whole deal!”
“Calm down, it’s just a collection mate.” The Sniper smiled in a poor attempt to look sympathetic. “You’ll get it back one day. It’s nothing to cry over.”
The Scout turned back towards the rooms as his arms dropped to the sides. Silently, he got back to his feet, and stood, grabbing his baseball bat from the dirt. “…You don’t get it snipes. You just don’t. Ain’t none of you do.”
Shaking the Sniper’s hand off, the boy took a step forward and began to run. There was nobody stopping him now.
As he passed the respawn room in a fast blur, the BLU Soldier stepped out, his battle-ready grin falling as he took one look at the crowd watching him.
“…Uh, what did I miss?”
The Scout was silent for the remainder of the day.
~oOo~
But as the sun began to fall, the little Scout was back to his obnoxious, boisterous self.
“Hey! That was my drink!” He yelled indignantly as the Heavy put aside an empty blue can of bonk, wiping his mouth with the top of his hand.
“Niet. Is not if you put in fridge without name.” The Heavy Weapons Guy grunted in reply. “You cannot have finished all anyway. I saw at least more than forty cans inside there. ”
The Scout tapped his right foot in response, folding his arms together in silence. “…Ya think I could’a labeled that shit? I’ve got 54 cans in there big guy, give me a break.” He sighed, still glaring at the Heavy. “Whatever, next time I see one o’ your precious ‘sandviches’ in there, I’m taking it.”
“Nooo!” The Heavy flattened his hands to the sides of his head. “Not my Sandvich! You will have to fight me before taking them!”
“Bring it on tough guy, I can handle you.” The Scout held up his fists in a faux tough-guy pose. “In fact, there ain’t nothing I can’t handle. Ever heard the time I bat in a loose alligator once? Yeah man, it’s true. He was like a pet or somethin’ let loose in the sewers, and he was about to attack this girl…”
As the bantering of the Scout droned into the background, the Sniper held his cup of ceasefire coffee, and smiled quietly.
“Glad to see he’s doing fine now.” He leaned towards the counter as he faced the Pyro, who was roasting some mystery meat for the night’s dinner.
“Mmm-hmph.” The Pyro replied absentmindedly.
“From the looks of it, I thought he wouldn’t recover for days.” The Sniper took a sip. “Lad had me worried for a second there – I thought he’d lost something very important.”
“Mmm-hmph.”
“Not like I was that worried for the kid or anything, I knew he’d be back on his feet before we all knew it.”
“Mmm-hmph.”
The Sniper looked to the Pyro with a deadpanned stare. “…Are you even listening to me mate?”
“Mmm-noph.” The Pyro responded through its muffling mask, focusing on the fire and the burnt meat that lay before it.
“…It is cooking, you fool.” The Spy hissed as he appeared beside the pyro, a smoldering cigarette in his hand. “Let it focus on our meal.”
The Sniper rolled his eyes. “Oh not you again, you bloody wanka.”
The Spy rolled his eyes as well, ignoring the crude insult. “Merci Monsieur, for being so polite.” He tilted his cigarette as he let ashes fall to the ground in a sarcastic pose. “I do not mind meeting you too, filthy bushman.”
The Sniper growled and muttered something rather rude underneath his breath.
“Now the question still stands,” The Spy looked away primly, facing the distant Scout and Heavy. “Where will the boy sleep for the time being? We can’t possibly let him sleep in the living quarters. It is too cold in the desert night.”
“…Well I invited him to sleep in my van.” The Sniper replied begrudgingly. “Turned me down after right stepping foot in it. Said it smelled too much like a zoo.”
“And urine, most likely.” The Spy nodded. At least the boy has some sense of personal cleanliness.”
The Sniper looked towards the ceiling, willing himself just enough control to not choke the Spy.
“The Soldier has already found his place.” The Spy exhaled with a delicate trail of smoke. “He said he would sleep in the Engineer’s garage – apparently because he is the only one ‘American’ enough to possibly accommodate him.”
The Sniper looked towards the now-boasting Scout, a twinge of worry creasing his face. “…Where is he planning to sleep? That part of the building won’t be fixed for days until the ceasefire ends.”
“But of course,” The Spy tapped on the last of his cigarette as he watched the ashes fall into the kitchen sink. “There is only one location which has extra beds, a clean environment and warm conditioning.”
The Sniper looked to the Spy in realization as the two said in unison;
“…The infirmary.”
~oOo~
“Nein.”
The Medic replied promptly as he stared at the Scout with a blank expression on his angular features.
“I vill not accommodate noisy Scouts, much less healthy patients into my infirmary.” He replied as he swung the double-doors closed.
“But wait! Wait wait wait,” The Scout almost yelled as he wedged his foot between the doors, pushing them open to reveal the Medic inside. “Me an’ Spy here talked about this.” He gestured towards the Spy behind him. “This is literally my only option. C’mon man.”
The Doctor sighed. “No means no, Scout, vezher you like it or not.”
“But Monsieur Docteur,” The Spy intervened, taking a step forward. Is it not cruel to deprive the boy of such simple liberties? You understand as much as I do the harshness of the weather without proper windows to shut them out. Is it not cruel, even for you, to let a teammate endure such freezing temperatures?” He coughed. “You are a Medic, Doctuer, that means you must hold the team above yourself. And even if you do not let him in today, he will inevitably become your patient, and you will have to let him in tomorrow.” The Spy ended persuasively.
“…C’mon Doc,” The Scout folded his hands as he looked up to the taller man. “Please? I’m even being polite here. You know you don’t see that every day.”
The Medic sighed as he massaged his forehead. Shweinhunds.
Two against one – particularly a Medic against a younger, helpless one – wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.
“…Ach, fine.” The Medic raised his hands in defeat.
“Yeah-hey!” The Scout whooped as he prompted a high-five from the Spy, which he deftly ignored.
“I suppose it is settled then –” The Spy coughed elegantly.
“…But on one condition.” The Medic interrupted quietly as he raised a single, right index finger. “If you are going to sleep in my quarters, you will have to sleep on my bed, vith me.”
The Scout’s jaw dropped.
“But…why?! You gotta have some extra beds in the infirmary, right? Can’t you just spare me one of those?” He flailed his arms in excessive surprise. “I ain’t no queer man, there is no way I’m sleeping with you.”
The Spy smirked quietly in the surprising turn of events.
“It is not uncommon, Scout, for men to sleep side by side in Europe.” He put a hand over his mouth to hide his silent chuckles.
“In your gay-ass France, maybe!” The Scout turned around, still looking at the two with a twinge of horror and disgust in his wide eyes. “But this ain’t Europe, this is America! And they don’t do shit like that here!”
“Aww, don’t be such a baby.” The Medic leaned down to pinch the scout’s cheek. “If you vant, I can comfort you in your sleep?” He said sarcastically.
The Scout’s cheeks blushed into a deep crimson. “Aw hell no!” He yelled, smacking the Medic’s hand off his face. “There ain’t no way! No way…”
“Vell it’s zhat, or you are sleeping outside tonight.” The Medic smiled in faux sweetness. “I cannot help you if you do not vant to be saved.”
As the Spy held himself tighter, focused on controlling the smile that was tugging at the corners of his lips, the Scout hung his head in defeat.
“Okay, okay. I got it old man, jeez.” He said tiredly. “I’ll do whatever you say, I just wanna sleep.”
“Oh?” The Medic frowned, half-surprised that the Scout hadn’t caught the bait that was meant to ward him away. “…Fine zhen. Zhis matter is settled.”
“Good.” The Spy coughed again, attempting to hide his obvious amusement. “Thank you dearly Doctuer, and au revoir, my friends. I must get my share of lost sleep.” In a moment the Spy was walking away, leaving the two alone as the Scout began seriously regretting his decision.
He had a gut feeling that something was gonna go very, very wrong. And his gut feeling he knew, was almost always right.
~oOo~
“Why can’t I just sleep in the infirmary bed?” He whined for the nth time in the short span of ten minutes. “You got one extra one there, I know it. Can’t I just sleep there?”
“Nein. You are not sick, und zhat bed is available for sick patients only.” The Medic replied with a sigh as he led him towards his room, just right beside the infirmary. “You are going to be here for several days Scout. I cannot allow you to occupy the infirmary beds while ozhers maybe needing of it.” He fixed his glasses on the crook of his nose.
“Yeah but who would be?! We’re in a ceasefire here man, ain’t no body gonna get hurt or nothin’. Will you just let me sleep there instead?” The Scout gestured towards the bed as he stopped in his tracks. “C’mon man, I know you’re practically gay with Heavy’n all, but don’t you think this is kinda queer, even for you?”
The Medic sighed again as he turned back towards the Scout, his fingers tapping the nearest table in irritation. “You have already agreed to zhis. It is either you sleep vizh me, or you go back out to zhe cold. Now.”
There was a pause as Scout’s shoulders drooped, an obvious look of disgust and defeat spreading across his face.
“…Fine.” He pouted, saying nothing else.
“Gut. I am glad ve agree on zhis.” The Medic turned back to his room as he swung open the door.
Stepping foot inside the Medic’s room, the Scout immediately looked around, his eyes taking in the unfamiliar quarter for the first time. It was a rather clean bedroom – not the most perfectly arranged, but the cleanest chamber he’d seen in the Teufort base yet. The room was littered with documents of every sort – files spilling out from the cabinets and onto the floors and desktop surfaces. The air was rather warm in the room, and it smelled of something familiar – something the Scout knew, yet couldn’t directly place. It was a pleasant smell, a welcoming one. He wondered, vaguely, what it was for a second, but all of that stopped mattering to the Scout as soon as he spotted the cleanly arranged blue bed before him.
Tottering on towards the bed, he fell on it, heaving a sleepy, but fulfilling yawn.
“…I vill not allow you to sleep on that bed vizh your working clothes on. You must change into pajamas before you dirty my bed, Scout.”
“Yeah, yeah old man.” The Scout said as he groggily pushed himself off the bed and turned towards the Medic – who was currently stripping down his clothes.
“HEY!” The Scout shielded himself as he yelled, his brain now fully sober. “Woah, slow down there Doc, I know I’m sexy an’ all but this ain’t part of the deal-”
“Vhat.” The Medic interrupted flatly as he stared at the Scout with a blank expression. “…I am just changing into my night clothes, Junge. Vhat in zhe vorld did you zhink I vas doing?”
“I-” The Scout slowly lowered his arms, his face flushing in sheer embarrassment. “-Ya know what, nevermind. Forget everything I just said, okay?”
The Medic gave him an odd glance before nodding silently. “Your mind is jumping to zhe vorst possible conclusions, Scout. I am no psychiatrist, but perhaps a dosage of Valium may help for your anxiety. Vould you vant me to get some?”
“No. Screw medicine doc. I ain’t anxious or any shit like that, I’m perfectly fine.” The Scout huffed, subtly avoiding eye-contact with the Medic and his awkwardly bare torso.
It wasn’t like it was the first time he’d seen it – he’d seen him naked countless times in the shared shower rooms – but this was the first time he’d ever consciously noticed it, much less saw him up close without his shirt on. And the experience was jarring. Like he hadn’t noticed that the Medic actually had a body under those fancy clothes and white labcoat of his.
He felt weird. And whatever that indescribable feeling was, he didn’t like it.
“…I’mma just change in the bathroom, okay?” The Scout stood from the bed slowly, still avoiding eye contact with the Medic.
“Ja, sure.” The Medic replied, seemingly unaware of the Scout’s change in behavior. “There’s the bathroom to your left – yes, beside that table over there.”
“Yeah, gotcha.” The Scout mumbled back, grabbing his own pajamas from where he had left them on the floor.
As he closed the door and made sure to lock it, Scout washed his face and willed the feverish blush that had spread on his cheeks to go away.
~oOo~
By the time he was back, the Medic was already dressed in his pajamas and fully prepared to sleep.
“Gute Nacht, Junge.” The Medic said as he ushered the Scout into the bed and switched off the lights. “I sincerely hope you do not snore – because if you do zhen I will have to personally kick you out.”
“I don’t snore Doc,” the Scout folded his arms as he lay idly on the bed. “…But apparently I talk in my sleep.”
“I should have figured as much I suppose.” The Medic sighed as he hoisted himself onto the regular-sized bed, barely accommodating the two upon it. “If you do not shut up during the day, I suppose you vould not shut up during the night.”
“Hey.” The Scout grumbled, slipping through consciousness and quickly losing his will to fight back. “At least I’m not a sarcastic old bastard like you are.”
“I suppose you are right.” The Medic shrugged nonchalantly, not willing to prolong the conversation any further.
Before long, the Scout was asleep, and the Medic could hear the quiet breathing of the young man as he fell through the thin veil of unconsciousness.
Silently, he envied the boy – it always took some time, some hours before the Medic could fully fall asleep. It might have been surprising, he thought vaguely, considering the physical work he did during the day, but to him it was an established fact by now, that running around and dying constantly didn’t help much in the realms of sleep. It made him tired of course, but not in a way that he wanted to.
Rolling to his side, he looked on to the dark expanse of the room he was in, fleeting thoughts moving across his more than conscious mind. He was surprised actually – he didn’t mind the boy sleeping beside him as much as he thought he would. He took up some of his sleeping space yes, but he wasn’t kicking around or turning violently as he slept – most likely because of the boy’s physical exertion during the day, he noted silently.
Behind him he could hear the Scout quietly turn in his sleep. Warm breath hit his neck as the Medic laid still, a tinge of drowsiness spreading through his mind.
The boy’s warmth was comforting, the Medic had to admit. It reminded him of older times and better days, when he would sleep with his pet dog on the same bed, worrying nothing about the war, or what was to happen in the next few years.
It reminded him of home.
Silently the two laid there together, the speed of their breaths synchronizing in a slow and steady motion. The Medic was getting drowsy as his conscious thoughts fled him, spinning around in a large hypothetical ring. It was then he heard a sound.
“…I’m sorry Ma.”
It was barely a whisper, audible yet too breathy to catch, and it startled Medic from his near-sleep as he froze on his bed, his ears straining to listen.
Behind him, the Scout was still talking.
“- I’m sorry Brian, I’m sorry Evan, I’m so sorry.” He whispered quietly as his breath hitched in his throat. “I’m sorry I did it.”
His eyes wide in surprise, the Medic continued to listen, not daring to make a sound in this moment of Scout’s vulnerability.
“I’m sorry I burned your collection.”
The Medic raised a brow, his neck itching to turn around and face the Scout. Where had he heard about this ‘collection’ before?
“…He was a jackass anyway, he deserved it.” The Scout continued mumbling, his breath still irregular as he talked in his sleep. “But I know you didn’t. I know you loved him. I’m sorry Ma.”
Suddenly the medic felt an arm drape across his own, pulling him softly closer to the Scout.
“…Scout?” The Medic whispered as his whole body froze, his mind unable to react to the sudden touch of Scout’s hand on his chest.
“I’m sorry Ma, I’m so sorry I burned his pictures down.”
With the Scout almost whispering in his ear, he could now hear the Scout’s every word. Gears clicked in his mind as he pieced together the bits of pieces of information that he had been given.
Collection. Mother. Pictures.
Ah. The Gears in the Medics mind clicked for the last time. So that is what he lost today.
The Scout continued to breathe irregularly as the medic could hear hitches in his breath and small, sobbing sounds as he exhaled. Was the Scout crying?
Unable to find the will in himself to shred the Scout of his last pieces of dignity, the Medic kept from turning around – his mind frantically searching for a way to calm the boy down.
Slowly, quietly, the Medic cupped the Scout’s hand in his own.
“Shh…it vill be okay, Herr Scout.” He whispered silently as the irregular breathing continued. “It vill be okay.”
“…I’m sorry.” The Scout continued mumbling. “I’m so sorry I lost you.”
“Nein.” The Medic whispered firmly as he could, as not to wake the boy up. “You just lost your family’s pictures. Your collection. You did not lose zhem.”
“It’s my fault.” The Scout mumbled, seemingly in reply. “I shoulda never have brought them here.”
“It is not.” The Medic chided softly, holding the Scout’s hand tighter in his own. “It is zhat Demoman’s fault, not yours.”
The Scout went silent after that.
Worried that the Medic may have awakened him, he raised his head as he whispered quietly. “…Scout?”
As if in response, the Scout held him tighter. “Please don’t go.”
“Zhey vill not.” The Medic sighed in reply, comforted in the thought that he hadn’t woken the boy up. “I vill not.”
Interlocking his fingers with that of the Scout’s, the Medic held the boy’s hand firmly. “I von’t let you go.”
~oOo~
When he awoke after that, his finger’s where still locked with Scout’s own, though he found himself face to face with the young man.
Traces of tears still stained the corners of the Scout’s eyes, a memoir of what had happened the night before.
Softly wiping the traces off his face as best as he could, the Medic smiled quietly. Obnoxious as he was awake, he could like the boy when he was sleeping.
As he grudgingly rose from the bed, immediately missing the warmth of the blankets and the boy’s skin beside him, the Medic shivered in the early morning’s light, quickly changing into his normal wear.
By the time the Scout woke up, the Medic was already gone, walking quickly towards the mess hall to get his share of breakfast.
He had had the weirdest dream last night – though it was a faded memory now, something he could barely remember. All he did know was that something warm was holding his hand, whispering into his ear and saying comforting things, making the pain that he felt somewhere in his sleep go away. It was a voice that chased the nightmares off. A warmth that made his heart melt somewhere inside.
As he stared up into the ceiling, now missing something that wasn’t there, he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Now he knew what the room smelled like.
It smelled like home.
Turning his back to the ceiling, the Scout gripped on to his pillow, wishing he could go back to sleep and see that dream again. When he couldn’t he sat up and sighed, kicking off the blankets as he heard the small commotion of his teammates from the outside.
He actually didn’t mind sleeping with the Medic. He was a creepy old geezer yeah, but that didn’t matter during the night. When they were both asleep, there was nothing that could go wrong, right?
Right.
By the time the two met up at the mess hall for breakfast, they had both reached the same conclusion.
I won’t mind sleeping with that guy again tonight.