Work Text:
Scout had been asking around for a while now. It was ceasefire and although he said he would clean his room; he soon was distracted. Underneath his bed he had found an old badminton set. Overwhelmed and excited, filled with nostalgia he decided he wished to play. Problem was that most teammates thought him too competitive. His first try was with Soldier. The man was active and competitive enough to keep up with Scout. Exercise was basically all he did. It didn’t take very long to find the American at the gym, working out with Heavy. Soldier gave the offer a considerate thought before declining. He told Scout maybe another time would be more convenient. Heavy, stoic as ever immediately declined as well, stating he did not have time for child play. Scout left the gym and thought of the other members. He could ask the Engineer or Sniper, but he had been getting on their nerves lately. Spy was an absolute no-go and Pyro would just set the badminton plume on fire. Demoman was also not an option. By this time the man was too wasted to play, his alcoholism worse on their day off.
That left Medic. Sure, the man was active enough. He was always busy though. And Scout was kind of afraid of him. The Medic was a madman and wouldn’t hesitate to trick Scout into a surprise surgery. Still, the doctor sounded like the best option at the moment. Slowly he made his way to the other side of the base. He never understood why the medbay was so far from everything else. Shouldn’t it be more accessible in case of an emergency? Scout could be there in a few minutes if he wished, yet the nerves he felt contacting Medic made him slow down. Arriving at the large double-swinging doors, Scout had come to regret this decision. For a moment he considered leaving but he did come all the way here. Not wanting to seem different than other days, he swung one of the heavy doors open without announcement. “Hey there Medic! I kinda have a strange questi- “he stopped mid-sentence.
The medbay was empty, aside from the doctor's doves. The Medic was nowhere to be seen. While normally Scout wouldn’t have thought about it, something felt off. The desk that found itself in the middle of the space was cluttered, paperwork disorganised. Everything seemed dirtier too, like Medic had not been there in a few days. This was far from the truth though, as proved by the cheery bird, Archimedes, who had settled on the one of the beds. Feeling bold, Scout checked the door at the back of the infirmary. Even though every merc had their own bedroom and a shared bathroom, Medic chose to inhabit the smaller room in the back. He moved his bed there and had a small washing area, just large enough to shower. Why he didn’t just make it a large private shower area was a mystery to Scout. He heard nothing from inside but knocked anyways. There was no answer. Carefully, he pushed the door open, peeking around the corner. It was now that he faintly heard water running.
Before he could close the door and bolt away, Medic appeared at the door. “Can I help you,” he peered closely at Scouts face. “herr Scout? Are you injured?” The man did not seem angry or even annoyed, just surprised. It was now Scout noticed he was not wearing his glasses and his hair was wet. He had probably just finished showering. “I uhh. You know what. Never mind. Do whatever you were doing before.” He took a step back, ready to run. “Hold on. Those are badminton rackets, yes?” Medic’s gaze was now focussed on Scouts hand. He had fetched his glasses from behind him, his vision now clear. “Heavy did mention you inviting him and Soldier earlier.” Scout laughed nervously. “Look this was a stupid idea, you’re a busy man and you probably don’t have time and- “
“I’ll play.” Scout watched him in disbelief, trying to catch the joke. “What?” Medic smiled. “You heard me. I’ll play. I don’t mind. I’ve been so engrossed in work lately; I could use it.” Scout nodded slowly. That explained the mess in the other room too. “Allow me to get properly dressed bitte. I’ll be out in a few minutes.” With that he closed the door. Scout left the infirmary, waiting outside the big swinging doors once more. He never expected the older man to actually agree to this. Thinking about it, what if it was a joke after all? No. The Medic could be cruel, but he wouldn’t do that. It was the Medic still. You never truly knew with him. Scout got shaken out of his thoughts by the door swinging open. Scout couldn’t stop a small gasp from leaving him. Sure, they all had seen the doctor in what they thought was his casual outfit. Those where the times after battle where he’d take his coat of and roll up his sleeves. This, however, was a whole new level of casual.
Although his trousers hadn’t changed, he was wearing a thin black turtleneck with a bright red jacket. His gloves had been abandoned too. Scout would’ve never guessed that the man had other clothing than his usual attire and a pair of pyjamas. “Shall we head outside? This is not exactly an indoors game.” Medic was a lot more cheerful than usual. The two of them made their way outside. Not excited to play on the training court, Scout suggested they’d move near Sniper’s van. “Alright then old man. Show me what you got.” Scout threw up the plume and hit it hard. Or at least that's what he had imagined. Instead, he missed the plume by just in inch, making it drop down onto the ground. Medic held in a small chuckle. “Very impressive. Allow me to try. I have to admit, last time I did this I was around your age.” He swiftly picked up the plume form the ground. He copied Scout's motions, throwing the plume and hitting it.
Although there was contact, the plume did not get that far, only landing halfway between the two men. This time it was Scout who burst out in laughter, Medic not far behind. “I guess we're both worse at this than we had hoped.” Medic shook his head with a smile. “In my opinion, that doesn't matter. If you want a second opinion, I think it's rather fun. Isn't that what it's all about?” Scout nodded slowly. The doctor was right. Scout remembered playing with his brothers. It was always such a competition. But at the times he did it with his mother, it was much more fun, because skill did not matter. Why would it anyways? Maybe he should lighten up a bit about the competitiveness, like Medic had lit up in his behaviour. Maybe next time he wouldn’t be so afraid to ask Medic to play with him. Smiling to himself, Scout picked up the plume. “Imma beat your ass this round doc!”
Some habits die hard.