I Saw That
A Team Fortress 2 fan fiction
Summary: Soldier proves that he's not always a jerk. Inspired by Shy-Light.
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It really hadn't been the best day.
Scout had sprained his ankle capturing the intelligence, Sniper had almost gotten backstabbed by the enemy Spy, Engie had lost everything he built to a Kritzed Demoman, and pretty much everyone else was just flat out exhausted. Which really wasn't all that surprising, since the enemy team had forged their registry and doubled their members on the field, as well as sabotaged the Announcer system so the timer was all kinds of screwed up. Medic had been the one to notice the fault, and Engie had had to fix the system while the rest of his teammates held off their attackers, though Pyro stayed behind to watch his back.
In the end, everyone had made it back to base in one piece and they'd managed to capture the intelligence, so the team was being rewarded with a four-day weekend for their trouble. A specialist was going to be sent in at some point to take care of the system sabotage, since Engie really didn't know all that much about programming and had only been able to get the system shut down by cutting the power. Crude, but effective, as the Texan had put it.
They were all gathered in the Rec Room, caked in sweat and dirt and too tired to get up from wherever they'd collapsed to head down the hall to the showers. Engie took up the far end of the couch, his work boots kicked over the armrest as he slumped up against Demo, who would have slid onto the floor if not for Heavy sitting himself there and leaning upon the battered coffee table. Scout took up the rest of the couch, his injured ankle propped up on the armrest to keep it elevated like Medic had told him to and his head in Demo's lap. Pyro was seated on a blanket on the floor beside Heavy, resting his head on the larger man's shoulder as is the Russian were simply a massive pillow. Medic had flopped into the spare recliner, draping himself across the cushioned armrests like a piece of damp cloth, and was slowly starting to slide towards the floor while Sniper drooped over the recliner's high back, arms crossed under his chin and hat pulled down over his eyes. Spy was nowhere to be found, but that wasn't anything unusual for the smarmy French bastard.
Soldier stood leaning in the doorway, peering out from under his helmet to take in the curious sight made by his slumbering teammates. It was rather strange to see the normally boisterous group so peaceful, their efforts during the day's battle thoroughly exhausting even the exceedingly hyperactive Scout, but it was also sort of endearing, in that odd familial way that came about from people working together for a long time in close quarters.
They'd probably all be sore in the morning if they all stayed as they were. Which would likely kill any good mood from earning a mini-vacation. Which would really kinda suck.
"Hunh."
A moment's thought, and Soldier started towards the sleeping Medic. Better take care of him first before he fell off the recliner and hurt himself. The German was completely dead to the world, sound asleep even as he was man-handled over Soldier's shoulder in a fireman's carry. He even started to snore, quite loudly in fact. Soldier allowed himself a quite snicker at Medic's expense as he marched down the hall towards his teammate's quarters, wondering if the man knew he sounded like a broken wood chipper. It was a simple matter to drop off the German in his bunk, making sure to remove his glasses and set them on the battered night table so they wouldn't get broken.
"Seven more to go."
Engie almost woke when he lifted the man from his cock-eyed seat, mumbling something incoherently under his breath as he threw his arm around Soldier's neck before conking out again. After that, the Texan barely even stirred, even when Soldier almost tripped over one of the many halfway dismantled machines scattered about the mechanic's room.
Demo had moved by the time he made it back, filling the space left by his teammate's absence. Soldier just about laughed out loud when he saw the stocky Scotsman curled into a ball sucking his thumb like a little kid. As a personal joke, Soldier proceeded to piggy-back the black man to his room in the basement, chuckling under his breath the whole way.
Sniper actually regained some level of consciousness when he tried to loop the lanky Australian's arm over his shoulder, swinging out with a mumbled curse and something about 'bloody Spies' before noticing Soldier. The sharpshooter blinked owlishly behind his yellow-tinted aviators, gave a grunt and let Soldier walk him to his preferred spot up in his sniping nest, passing out completely halfway there so his teammate had to resort to dragging him the last 40 feet.
It was stupid of him to try and move Heavy, he knew it. But the Russian's room was the closest, so he figured he could at least drag the massive bear of a man the short distance required. Boy, was he proved wrong. The Russian was a big man made up of almost solid muscle, he had to be to carry around his chaingun like it was a Tonka toy, and that meant he was incredibly dense. Soldier managed to drag what felt like a good ton and a half of human being some ten or so feet, barely getting out the door and a few steps down the hall before he gave up, his back screaming pain. He managed to pop his spine back into place shortly afterwards, but it still hurt. Grumbling under his breath, he stomped into the Infirmary for a couple pain pills before tossing a blanket over Heavy and heading off to pick up the last two.
Scout and Pyro were ridiculously easy to move after having to deal with that hulk of a Russian. The skinny Bostonian barely weighed anything, and Pyro was curled up on his blanket not unlike a sleeping dog. Looping an arm around Scout's waist, he hefted the boy as if he were little more than a sack of potatoes, grabbing the end of Pyro's blanket as he headed out, dragging the snoozing firebug along behind him as he headed off for their quarters. Neither even stirred.
He dropped off Pyro first, nudging open the door with his foot and dragging the little critter into the center of the room, grabbing a pillow off the bed to toss to the firebug as he headed back out, Scout still under his arm. Soldier was a bit gentler with Scout, taking care not to bump the kid's injured ankle as he lay the skinny Bostonian in his bed, even going through the trouble of tucking a pillow under the sprained joint to keep it elevated like Medic wanted. Not that it mattered in the end, since Scout immediately rolled onto his front and hugged his pillow.
Soldier couldn't help but smile at that. Out of all the members of the team, he'd connected with Scout the best. The boy reminded him of his own kid brother back home, and it was nice to feel like the fun older sibling every once in a while. Still smiling to himself, Soldier stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.
For a moment, he stood there, taking in the quiet of the slumbering base, then almost knocked his helmet off as his face was split open by a gigantic yawn.
"Hunh. My turn."
That said, he trudged off to his own room, oblivious to the distinctive sound of a cloak dropping. Spy smirked, watching his helmeted teammate trundle off to what was affectionately called the War Room.
"Je t'ai vu, Soldat. Je t'ai vu." (1)
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(1) "I saw that, Soldier. I saw that." Yay for free internet translation software (and French-fluent readers, thank you She Who Dances Under The Moon!).
And that's "I Saw That". Took me a good day and a half, but it's done. And I have to admit, I enjoyed every second. Again, this story was inspired by a wonderful piece of art under the same name by the fantastic Shy-Light of DeviantArt. Go check it out, it's adorable!