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Illness was rarely an issue in the Team Fortress base. The Medigun could treat most symptoms and for anything else they could make do with the normal medicine Medic had.
The issue arose when Medic got sick.
It started with a tingle in the back of his throat when he woke up, a warning. Throughout the day he got sicker and sicker until his head pounded and his whole body had begun to ache. He did his best to remain professional, but his miserableness must have shown at dinner that night.
“Man Doc, you look like shit.” Scout commented in between massive bites of his meal. There were quiet murmurs of agreement from around the table.
“Ja, I have been feeling a little under the veather.” Medic ran a hand through his hair, a few strands falling out of place. “Nothing to vorry about, I vill be fine by tomorrow. Though I might retire early this evening. Gute Nacht, everyone." Medic’s chair scraped on the ground as he stood, quickly placing his dish in the sink then walking back to the sickbay. Medic’s quarters were attached to the infirmary so he could tend to patients even in the night. It also meant that he had a private shower, and that he had plenty of excuse to stay up into the early hours of the morning working on a project. Most nights he left from dinner and went right to his desk to work on one project or another; but tonight he was simply too tired and he quickly changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed.
He woke up before the sun the next morning, feeling even worse than the night before. His eyes and throat were painfully dry, and his head pounded when he tried to sit up. It took a monumental effort to get himself out of bed, and even more so to drag himself into the medbay to take his temperature. Unsurprisingly, he was running a fever. Nothing deadly, but certainly not comfortable. He sighed and grabbed an icepack to hold to his head. A part of him wanted to go straight back to bed, a part of him knew he needed to get something to eat to fuel his body as it fought the illness. After several more minutes of leaning against the counter, he finally managed to push himself away and begin the trudge to the canteen.
“Good morning Doktor!” Heavy called from the kitchen.
“Mmf.” Medic grunted, unable to muster the energy to reply. He walked over to a fruit bowl and quickly grabbed an apple.
“Doktor seems tired, are you still feeling sick?” Heavy furrowed his brows and put down his pan, walking over to stand next to Medic.
“Ja, I’m sure I’ll be fine by tomorrow. It’s just a cold.” Medic leaned into Heavy, grateful for the sturdy form.
"Doktor should go rest. I will bring him breakfast.” Heavy grabbed Medic by the shoulders and turned him towards the door. Medic half-heartedly swatted at the larger man’s hands.
“Nien, nien. I am fine. I can get my own breakfast.”
“No.” Heavy began walking Medic back to his room. “Doktor needs to rest so he can recover. Doktor is more useful to the team when he is healthy.”
As much as Medic hated being idle, he was too uncomfortable to protest. Heavy let Medic lean on him as they walked back to Medic’s room, then helped him into bed and took off his glasses, gently placing them on the nightstand. He slowly ate the apple, the idea of sleep was suddenly much more appealing to him than eating. Medic quickly fell asleep, too exhausted to stay awake for much longer. He never fell into a deep sleep, drifting in and out until early in the afternoon when he heard a gentle knock on his door. His head still pounded and even the light of his bedside lamp and the sun through the curtains felt oppressively bright. He sat up in bed and quickly regretted it, his body protesting the action with aches deep within his bones.
“Enter.” He croaked.
“Good afternoon Doktor. I made soup for you.” Heavy opened the door, a bowl in hand and a wet cloth slung over his arm.
Medic smiled softly. “You really didn’t have to Herr Heavy.”
“Nonsense.” Heavy sat on the bed, and it creaked under the additional weight. “Of course Heavy will take care of the man who takes care of everyone else.” He lifted a spoonful to the doctor’s face.
“You don’t have to spoon feed me. I can-” Medic started, a blush crept onto his ears.
“Let me take care of you, Doktor.” Heavy cut him off.
Medic stopped his protests, letting Heavy gently feed him the soup. The hot broth soothed his throat, even beyond that the soup itself was delicious. After Medic finished off the bowl Heavy gently placed a wet cloth on Medic’s forehead. Medic smiled gently as he reclined into the bed.
“Are you comfortable Doktor?” Heavy ran a gentle hand through the doctor’s hair.
“Could you turn off ze lamp?”
“Of course.” Heavy complied, before sitting back down next to Medic.
"Danke, mein Schatz." Medic’s soft smile had yet to leave his face as he looked up at Heavy. The two stayed in a comfortable silence for a while, Medic drifting in and out of sleep as he rested his eyes.
He woke up to find that Heavy had left at some point, taking the empty bowl and apple core with him. He had also replaced Medic’s towel, and he was grateful for the cooling cloth on his forehead. He was feeling a good deal better now, his headache had mostly subsided. He was well enough to get up and stretch his legs, then decided to return to his desk rather than his bed. He had just begun to go through some paperwork when he heard the door slide open, accompanied by loud footsteps.
“Doktor,” Heavy sounded disappointed,” You still need to rest.” He was carrying another bowl of soup.
“I feel fine.” Medic rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t hide the smile on his face as he turned to face the other man. “You take very good care of me, Schatz.”
Heavy smiled and placed the bowl next to Medic on the desk. “Do not stay up late, Medic still needs rest.”
“I’ve done nothing but rest!” Medic protested halfheartedly.
“And Doktor is still sick. He still needs more rest.” Heavy placed his hands over Medic’s shoulders, rubbing them gently.
Medic leaned into the touch and sighed. “Fine, I promise I von’t stay up too late.”
“Good.” Heavy gave him a firm pat on the shoulders before turning to leave. “Good night Doktor.”
“Goodnight.” Medic watched as the door closed behind Heavy then turned back to his desk, pulling the bowl closer so he could eat. Maybe he would go to bed early, just for tonight.