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It started with Soldier. Disease usually did, considering how much disgusting stuff he often touched and how little the concept of sanitation meant to him. Still, Soldier had a cold, and with how tightly packed the mercenaries of RED were in their barracks, it was an inevitability that said cold would spread like wildfire.
Medic stood in his office, rinsing the blood off his hands. He had just gotten out of surgery, and he had maintained his typical level of “professionalism”. He dried his hands with an old towel, adding the stains of what was left of the blood on his hands to the old ones on the cloth. He sneezed into his hands, grumbling and wiping them off on his shirt. He sat down at his desk, beginning to fill out the paperwork he had started that morning. A couple of his doves came and sat on his shoulders, until he sneezed again, the sudden sound causing them to flutter away. The words on the page began to blur and swim before his sleep deprived eyes, before he eventually passed out at his desk.
~~~
When he woke up the next morning, Medic felt terrible. His nose was stuffy, his head was swimming, and he just felt generally achy and tired. He walked to the operating table in the center of his lab, turning on the Medi-Gun, still strapped up from last night's surgery. The healing ray trained itself on him, to absolutely zero effect. The Medi-Gun was specialized for injury, and really didn't do much in the way of illness. He smacked the Medi-Gun to turn it off, and laid down on the operating table, contemplating just sleeping on it until his cold passed. He laid there for a few hours, drifting in and out of consciousness as he was simultaneously exhausted and struggling to fall asleep.
~~~
Eventually he was jostled from his spot by two hands grabbing him by his underarms and lifting him from the operating table. Whoever was holding him started walking, shifting him to a bridal carry. Medic looked up, seeing the face of the person who was holding him.
“Oh! Hallo Heavy. You can put me down now, I'm fine,” he mumbled, smiling a little. He giggled, mumbling delirious nonsense.
Heavy looked down at Medic, shaking his head. “Нет. Doktor is clearly not well.”
Medic grumbled, going limp in Heavy’s arms, but was ultimately too tired to protest. Eventually Heavy opened the door to Medic's room, setting him down on the bed. He helped the doctor take off his boots and lab coat, before leaving the room. Medic propped himself up against the headboard, reaching for the book on his nightstand. He struggled to read it for several minutes, before giving up and just laying back down.
Eventually Heavy would return, carrying a bowl of some soup Medic had never seen before, along with an extra blanket. He laid the blanket over Medic, setting the soup on Medic's nightstand.
“Make sure you drink soup. Is Щи. Mama used to make it for Zhanna when she was sick,” he said, kissing Medic on the cheek and walking back towards the door. “Want me to leave door open for leetle birds?”
Medic softly smiled, picking up the bowl. “Yes please. Danke schön, Heavy.”
With a nod Heavy left the room, leaving the door ajar. Medic ate his soup, and found he actually quite liked it. After an hour or so, Archimedes made his way into the room, taking up his usual perch on Medic's headboard. Medic gently pet the dove on its head, before laying down and finally getting some good sleep.