Medic reveled in watching Heavy sleep. He reveled in the stable, slow rise and fall of Heavy's broad chest, in the indolent yet limber sprawl of Heavy's massive body on the red, cushioned couch opposite his office desk in the Infirmary. Reveled in the boyish softening of Heavy's angular, masculine features, a softening that he, only he, saw in those same features whenever Heavy gazed at him.
Heavy slumbering meant he was free to stare as much as he wished at his lover of half a year. It was a rare privilege, for Heavy reveled in watching him sleep.
"He looks like a big baby, doesn't he?" Medic murmured to Archimedes, who was perched on his right shoulder and watching Heavy sleep along with his master. "A giant, silly baby."
He ignored Archimedes' coo that teased him for his newfound sentimentality. He was not being sentimental. He was a man of science! He was merely stating aloud his visual observation in a detached, cool manner. That's all.
For several minutes, Medic contented himself with gazing at Heavy's face, then at Heavy's hands that rested on the sleeping man's rising and lowering belly. Those hands still inspired awe in him, as much as the first time he set his eyes upon them. Those hands carried that massive, lethal Mini-gun with such ease, carried him with such ease, raising him into the air whenever Heavy was in a playful mood, drawing him down as benevolently for a kiss or ten, down hard to grind hip against hip when they -
Suddenly, a noise akin to distant, rumbling thunder broke Medic's flow of contemplation.
He blinked, his eyes wider for a second. What was that?
The noise returned, more boisterous, like turbulent wind being released from compressed space, and when Medic realized what it was and where it was coming from, he slapped his hands over his mouth to stop it from releasing its own resonant noise. Archimedes had fluttered in a panic from his shoulder to a nearby bookshelf at the second blast of sound, and the thought that his dear dove had been frightened by flatulence was not helping him to keep quiet -
The final eruption of noise from Heavy's backside sounded so much like his Mini-gun firing a fusillade of bullets that Heavy awoke with a mighty startle, springing upright on the couch even as he flailed his arms and blinked wide eyes rapidly. The combination of sound and sight was too much for Medic. He exploded into hysterical laughter, falling back in his office chair and flailing his own arms when Heavy bellowed, "Vhat vas noise?! Who is shooting?!"
Heavy received the answer to his question once he sniffed the air. His wrinkled nose and grimace simply caused Medic to laugh more. For many more minutes, the two men were trapped in place by their mirthfulness, Heavy collapsing back on the couch, his whole face beetroot red and Medic falling forward onto the table and slapping its wooden surface with glee.
After calming down and opening the office windows, Medic staggered over to where Heavy was and wrapped his arms around Heavy's shoulders hunched in embarrassment. Heavy shook his head in self-deprecation, then mumbled, "Ve are even now, Doktor."
Medic snorted, but even as he did so, he fondly rubbed his cheek against Heavy's smooth head and said with a soft smile, "Sshh. Zhese are zhe moments I live for, mein Liebling."
Although he couldn't see Heavy's face, he felt Heavy's mutual smile in the tightening of Heavy's arms around his torso and Heavy's kiss against his neck, and knew that this would be just one of many moments of shared merriment. Many, many shared moments with his cherished Russian lover, in the years to come.
