I am open to any criticisms and advice. Any sort of reviews would be much appreciated :D

[This fanfiction consists of numerous pairings and ships that I like, such as Engie/Soldier, Spy/Sniper, Heavy/Medic. If you don't like those sorts, it would be better for you to click back]

Throughout his teen years, there were two kinds of cylinder bottles that Tavish Finnegan DeGroot never let go. Beer bottle and jar of potassium chlorate had been his best friends and he knew he had problems. People took him as a crazy alcoholic bugger who can't even remember anything about his life back in Ullapool, but oh he sure did. He remembered good amount of detail in his life, such as the scandal between the headmaster of his orphanage and the nun from the nearby chapel, and the gossips that his peers told him whenever they got drunk. Although he never interfered with whatever he heard, people kept unload their shenanigans on him. Maybe they felt safe that he wouldn't rat them out. Maybe he looked trustworthy, or he happened to have pair of ears and a mouth to give them an honest drunk responses.

He pretended not to remember because it would be too much of a bother to get involved in every single of those shit stirring events. However, it was highly entertaining to know every little thing about the folks around him. To a young adolescent boy who lived in an orphanage, this made him feel less of a loner and sort of popular. The façade did not last long anyway because people began to avoid him after he lost his eyeball and blew up the school hall. He could not careless anyway. It was tiring to hear the slurred repertoire of "…you can't tell this to anyone" on every Friday, and his real parents came for him anyway.

When he first met the mercenaries at Teufort, he was relieved to see bunch of males. They seemed like they don't give rat's ass about each other's' business, and stay professional and friendly like manly man they all are. Well, except that noisy bugger Scout who never shuts his trap even for a minute. Demoman eventually gained basic respect from his teammates despite of them throwing drunkard jokes at him. He laughed with them anyway because they were not so perfect either. On one Friday after their biggest triumph, him and Soldier got insanely drunk and decided to drag the whole team into their little alcoholic pit hole.

"Aye boyos! Why doon't all o' ye come doon and have a drink?"
Demoman dashed up the stairs and chimed at his teammates in the living room. Pyro didn't seem to hear the two at all because he was watching the precious flames at fireplace, feeding it dry woods as if he was looking after a pet. Engie was reluctant at first to leave the blueprints that he was working on, but the smell of alcohol that he hasn't tasted in a while was tempting him.

"I don't know, partner. Preparations for the next battle ain't gonna write itself."
"Ach, cummoan. You are a cannie lad who can come up with anything. Int it better for ye heid to loosen up sometimes?"
His strong and dark arm was wrapped around Texan's shoulder to support his persuasion and swinging body. Engie noticed another tough and firm arm wrapping around his other shoulder.

"Correct. The drunkard is speaking the truth for this once. A proper soldier must learn to acknowledge their success and celebrate the amount enemies' bloody he shed."
Soldier was not leaning on Engie as much as Demoman, but his breath and skin were already hot from the dancing juice. Feeling slightly weird that he is surrounded by two bulky men and the fact that Soldier was more physically intimate than usual, Engie blushed slightly and chuckled.

"Aight, ah will join you if y'all can stand on your own. Are you coming, Pyro?"
Engie squeezed out of the two and grabbed his guitar that was resting on the couch. Pyro wasn't paying much attention to the commotion until his code name was called. He stared at the three men blankly as if he couldn't comprehend any words before 'pyro', then he suddenly jumped up to give them a squeezing hug and jumped down the stairs. Soldier curtly nodded in pride with their success and walked away to find other people to invite.

"Slow doon, ye prancer. Ther's enough for all o' us tae drink."
Demo boomed with laughter as he headed to the door to basement, still using Engie to hold himself. Engie didn't mind helping out his teammate, but Lordy Lord, he could get drunk from Demo's breathe fuming with alcohol.

Despite of his calm and sober looking exterior, Soldier was feeling a bit lightheaded when he was walking down the corridor. He looked at the doors that led to his teammates' individual rooms and wondered why and how he was up here in the first place. Scratching his head, he tried to regain the missing piece of memory that made him walk all the way up here, but failed to do so. The grumbling stomach directed him to visit the kitchen, where Heavy was reading a thick Russian book with running microwave that had his late night snack on. The sight of skinhead jolted Soldier's memory and he gave his teammate an overly exaggerated rigid salute.

"Greetings, Russian. You have done exceptionally well in today's battle."
"Soldier is kind. Are you BLU spy?"
Heavy quivered his eyebrows, smiled and didn't divert his eyes away from the book. It was a light hearted joke that came out of his absent mind, which he soon regretted. That last comment made Soldier stand up straighter and stretched out his red uniform to emphasise his identity. By the sound of that low growl, Soldier was not going to leave Heavy alone with his favourite book.

"Nonsense, you commie maggot! It is a leader's duty to use carrot and whip method. This is not all the kindness I grant upon you – you shall join us for a proper celebration. I ORDER YOU TO LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM SPEAKING TO YOU! Put that book away and attend to the drinking at the basement. I strongly recommend you to bring your vod-"
"Vodka? Booze? Oh sweet!"
Both men whipped their head toward the new voice in the kitchen. Being a young adult with fast metabolism, Scout came down from his room to attack the fridge. What he heard right now was way better than cold lasagna.

"Is not place for Baby Scout."
"Private, you are not legal yet."
Those words could not flatten Scout's desire to drink and become a real adult. He was the baby of the family, so no one actually took him to a bar or club before he moved into Teufort. He was eager to be cool like his brothers and this was the chance.

"Aw come on! I am practically an adult. 21! Wait… Hey! How old do you think I am?"
"A proper identification is required."
"Don't be a dick. I've earned this drink as much as the fat guy over there. Bet you didn't see me whacking all those bozos because I am too fast for your eyes. Unlike lard face, I captured most of those points!"
"Leetle Scout better watch his mouth."
Heavy took his glasses off, put his book down with loud thump and stood up. His shadows loomed over Soldier and Scout against the dim kitchen light like a hungry bear. Scout ignored the impending threat and kept whining at Soldier.

"You GOT to let me in. I will do anything!"
"Scout better take his word back."
"Whoa hey, don't come near me!"
Soldier humped at the desperate tone and eyed at the microwave that emitted delicious smell of meat. Another rumble was felt under his rock hard abdominal muscles and he was starting to feel less drunk. Eager to get back to the basement, Soldier ignored the cat and mouse chase, took out Heavy's food from microwave and stood by the doorstep to watch the silly sight.

"I shall allow you to join us if you make yourself useful and gather the others. This should be easy enough for you, scrawny maggot."
Scout shot a quick glare at the disappearing army boots. The gigantic hands that were busy to catch him were slow enough to dodge and think about who he can bring to impress Soldier.

"This is getting boring. See ya later at the basement, baldy."
Scout jumped, kicked against the wall to place his hands on Heavy's bare head and vaulted over him. Heavy spun around to at least catch the skinny leg, but something caught his eyes. The paper bag that had his minced pie wasn't in the microwave and there was no way that Scout could be that fast to steal it unnoticed.

Sense of defeat crawled into his heart which was soon replaced with mild annoyance. This was no place for him to nurture his sophisticated side and read in peace. The pie didn't matter so much, but his mood read was foiled after being so riled up by these little Americans. Maybe he should join their foolish drinking where everybody was lightweight than he was, but being the only one to get drunk slower than everybody else had limited fun. He should bring someone who was as heavy as Heavy, and the only person he could think of was Medic, his dear doctor.

"Do you not zink zhis is… excessive?"
Medic crinkled his nose when the fume of beer wafted in the air. He followed the big man because he was so insistent on being familiar with the group, but seeing his fellow comrades sitting in a circle around boxes of alcohol and empty bottles on the floor did not appeal to the German at all.

"Doc, join in for a song."
Engie shot a beam of smile as he plucked the guitar. The rhythm was unsteady due to Soldier's violent rocking against the bottom Engie's guitar and shoulder, and the beautiful tunes were muted by Soldier's singing of national anthem of America. Singing would be an over judgement for Soldier because the stocky man was horribly tone deaf. Rolling his eyes, Medic was about to turn away but Pyro's arm wrapped around his waist and lifted him off the ground. Medic flailed as hard as he could but the grip only hardened when they sat down together on the floor.

"Dummkopf! Let me go at once."
"Mmmdic mmmst mmmmink."
Heavy was jealous of Pyro's boldness because it would be inappropriate for him to hold Medic without hurting the man's dignity. Heavy sat beside Medic, slightly worried that he may have made the doctor mad.

"Release the Hoegaarden, lad. I wouldnae wanta force it on him like his national leader did."
Demo winked at Medic and lifted his arm as if he had a stiff joint on his wrist and elbow.

"First of all, I am not a Nazi and Hoegaarden is a Belgium beer! How is zis any relevant?"
"Thought ye a feather weight."
"Vhy do you assume zat?"
"'Cause ye're afreid tae drink something that's like water tae ye?"
Medic's scoffed. This blackman just insulted his ability to hold alcohol down and his country. He could also hear Soldier mumbling about how blind and cowardly the Germans were to follow such tyrant. It would be gutless of Medic to back down right now. He needed to show these buffoons that it is him who keeps them alive out on the battle field and teach them a history lesson of his nation.

"Yes. Of course beer is merely but vater."
Now that his body was free from Pyro, Medic reached out to Heavy's vodka and took two large gulps. Heavy was so startled that he spat out bit of beer that he was sipping. Nobody expected such sight.

"Zis, hovever, is a real drink."
Pyro's giddy claps made the other men roar in approval. Heavy shook his head as his precious homebrew was quickly flowed out like it was nothing. Demoman smirked in glee and Heavy frowned as he chugged on the beers to catch up on Medic and the others.

Sniper was the last to 'join'. Technically, Scout made the Australian to shake his skinny legs to the basement by stealing his hat. Sniper was going to leave as soon as he snatched his hat off from the young Bostonian, but Soldier blocked the path and ranted the duties as a team and how they must stick together.

"Step aside, wanka. I left the van open because that brat didn't give me a time to close it properly."
Sniper stepped back to make a distance to charge against Soldier. The helmet man was drunk enough to wobble away if Sniper gave him a hard push. He was so sure that there was nothing behind his feet, but something made him trip and fall on his back. Out of all the people, Sniper collapsed on rather pink-looking Heavy.

"Da, it's feeding time for kangaroo man."
"Release me, you cunt!"
Heavy's voice boomed in joy and ecstasy when alcohol began to seep into his veins. He felt like cuddling one specific person, but tried to avoid that by hugging anyone he can grab as some sort of excuse. Like a mother feeding a baby, Heavy shoved beer bottle on Sniper's mouth.

"Alright fine. Fine! Let me drink on my own!"
It took three bottles till Sniper was allowed to sit on the floor.

No one cared that Scout was amongst them at this point, and also how the beer bottle was floating on corner of the wall. That was the first time Demoman saw the deepest inner side of these killing machines, and possibly the glimpse of social web that represented who favours who more than the others. This group drinking did not happen as frequently as they thought it would. There was hardly anytime where all the mercenaries simultaneously gathered to have another because some of them had other priorities, and not everyone was an avid drinker like Demo. He was the only constant who kept drinking in the basement every night, alone or not. One of two of other mercenaries frequently visited him to wash their tensions away after a hard day battles. The first night that was different from his usual beer night at Teufort begun with Soldier, who drank with him the most so far.

The man of discipline and hard works was quiet as a dead bird this time while they shared beer. It unnerved Demo.

"Did ye see that bastart BLU Heavy stepping on me mines? He always explodes like raw haggis."

"I moost try this new formulae for tha next battle. Sometimes bombs are less bouncey when I be throowin' them aroond."

Demo would usually just keep on talking, but Soldier being like a gargoyle was not comfortable at all. He stopped talking to observe his mute comrade. Soldier's eyes were hidden under that heavy helmet, but Demo could see the tiny gaps that kept open and shut on his friend's lips.

"Spit it oout. Whattis it?"
"What is your…"
The rest of sentence sort of faded out which made Demo hard to follow and lose his patience.

"For the love of me deaf Uncle Angus, speak oup!"
"What is your opinion on homosexual conducts?"