Something I wrote over the course of a couple days. I wanted to play with the concept of Scout having a crush on Medic that was awkward, secretive, and difficult. Here's the unedited result of that.
2FORT, RED'S COURTYARD - DAYTIME
Scout, 20s, cocksure, is bolting out of RED's base faster than he can throw a baseball. He's the only one on his team looking back so often - bullets fly all around him.
He spots Medic just behind, close on his heels, but Heavy struggles to keep on. Nervous, Scout twirls his pistol 'round his finger, but keeps pace.
"Is too late for me." Heavy pants. "Go make me proud, tiny men!"
Scout looks back to see Heavy turn away from them and rev up his gun, boots sewn to the ground, chastened. He shouts in Russian as his blood seeps into bone-dry dirt.
Medic curses."Verdammt, Heavy! That is not what I had in mind."
With a beat, Scout realizes this is desperate. This is his responsibility now. Damn it all if doesn't bring Medic back to BLU's base alive—defeated, spitting fiery German at him, but alive.
He would show that slow-as-molasses pancake how it's done. Make the big guy grin in the end.
The bridge, stretching between the two bases, comes into view. The first-degree sunlight bends around Scout's skin as he jumps down the ramp. God, they just might make it.
"Scout, wait." Medic reels forward. "Skout!"
Medic clutches his shirt, jerking him backward. Scout kicks up a cloud of dirt, stumbling.
"Woah, doc! What the hell—"
A bullet hails past his head and grazes Medic's shoulder. The Sniper. Blood streams down from the wound, thin like a tear, staining his lab coat.
Snipers usually stay on the battlements, but this one was acting offensively. That can-eater was taking advantage of BLU's retreat.
That was way too close to defeat. Scout's jaw clenches, angry. He whips out his Winger and fires four shots in the Sniper's direction, but none of them meet flesh.
He reloads. And when he notices Medic's gaze on him, his lips go dry. He looks back, doting and foolish.
Medic scoffs. "Gah, was ist los? Are you waiting for the others to finish us off?"
"Ooh yeah, like you've been an angel today." Scout snaps, throwing his hands up. "Our entire freakin' team is six feet under because of me, right?"
It's a convincing act, but Medic knows the routine. Instead, he smiles and gives Scout a look: eureka. Six feet under - that was it.
Medic grabs him. "Hold your breath, Dummkopf!"
In one swift move, Medic shoves Scout down into the sewers, flailing. Too late to hold his breath or right himself, his body slaps into the water. When he reaches the surface, Medic is already next to him.
Scout chokes and coughs. "Christ, what k-kind of warnin' was that?"
"Shh, that's enough, you imbecile."
Point taken. As they tread through the sewage, they hear the RED team stomping across the bridge above, beelining to BLU's base. Then, silence.
Medic sighs with relief. "Now, be grateful that I made time to save you, Bürschchen."
Scout doesn't speak a lick of German, but he knows Medic. Warm tone paired with words that were never meant in kind: Anfänger, Junge, Neuling, Bürschchen… Sometimes it almost works on him. He had it bad.
"Hey, doc," Scout says in a small voice."That was some pretty good thinkin' back there."
Medic isn't inviting, but gives him more than nothing.
"Danke, Herr Scout."
"So, uhh..." He scratches the back of his neck. "What're we supposed to do now?"
At the entrance to their sewers, Medic stops in his tracks. "Well, unless one of our colleagues comes to our rescue - which, in my experience, never happens - we need to get back and defend the intel."
Scout stammers and scratches his face. "Right, we're on defense now. No problem."
But he can't hide the dejection on his face. He looks down at his cleats, away from Medic. He was in no position to be useful to his team anymore.
Medic sees the change in demeanor and softens. "Scout, you did your job at the front. What more could you—"
Scout has just enough time to register confusion when: BOOM!
With shaking hands, Medic undoes the top button of his lab coat, revealing blood. Red blossoms through his shirt and vest, spreading fast. A perfect shot.
Scout reaches out to touch, but is denied. Medic's boots squeak and he hits the floor.
"Medic!" Then, another Machina bullet clangs against the pipe. "Oh God."
Holy smokes. He's still alive. Scout drags him - still soaked and heavy - deeper in the sewer drain, out of the Sniper's sight. Heavy breaths
"C'mon, there's a health kit right around the corner, doc!"
Medic weakly coughs. "Fess…"
"No, don't do this to me," Scout pleads, his eyes wild. "Jesus Christ, c'mon!"
He slides Medic's backpack off, lays his body against the wall, and swoops betweens his legs. Shivering, he brings two fingers to Medic's neck. Absolutely dead.
Scout slides his hand down to the hot wound in his chest. Uneasy pause.
"Man, have you got any idea of how much trouble I'm gonna be in?" He clenches both fists around Medic's collar. "Whatd'ya expect me to tell Heavy, smart-guy?!"
His shoulders fall, but he tries again. He swipes a finger across Medic's jawline.
"Should've watched yourself, ya crazy bastard."
Then a sick realization dawns on Scout. He scans every direction around him. They're alone.
He thinks about it. Even better: he thinks about it and knows that he won't get caught. His posture regains confidence. Cocky smile. He places both hands on Medic's shoulders.
"I mean, we've both done stuff together that's way more crazy than this, right? Way more stupid, way weirder, way more dangerous…" Scout tells him. "So this ain't gonna be any different."
No response.
"Eh, I'll just get your two cents later."
Everyone in Teufort smells like blood, alcohol, and sweat. Medic is better than that. The top note of his cologne is a freshly cut lemon, and when Scout leans closer, there's tobacco and vetiver. Clean, sharp, smoky.
Scout looks up to his face. Static, but his glasses are crooked. He doesn't fix them.
He brushes a finger across Medic's mouth. Clean of blood. Scout slightly smiles, tries to control himself, and begins to meet their lips.
It's not a great kiss - not even a good kiss. He feels blood seeping through Medic's coat. He feels himself trembling. But more important, he feels the warmth of Medic's lips against his own and the rasp of Medic's stubble against his cheek. It's what he wants.
He pulls away and flutters his lashes. "Fuckin' hell, doc…"
Scout gets presses his chest to his coat, enveloping him like ivy. His arousal grows. One hand wraps around Medic's tie while the other strokes his jaw, shifting it slightly open for a deeper kiss.
"ALERT!"
Scout scrambles away from the body, slipping backward with a splash. His shirt is stained with Medic's blood. His ears ring.
"THE ENEMY HAS TAKEN THE INTELLIGENCE!"
Then, he remembers where he is: the sewers in the midst of a battle. A battle his team was now losing. He hustles onto his feet.
As he gets up, he glances at Medic for the last time. "Uh, yeah… Thanks."
Scout rushes up to his base. Fast as he can.