Miss Pauling groaned and hit the snooze button. She signed up for this job. She wanted to do it. That was why she woke up at four in the morning every day. She stumbled over to the restroom and brushed her teeth lazily, looking up at her reflection after a while. She sighed.
'I look like such a monster.' She thought. It was, to her, the only consequence of her time-killing occupation. Dark circles under her eyes and an ever-yawning mouth made her feel like her former beauty was lost.
Of course, the men didn't seem to think so. They were always referring to her as "little lady" and "beautiful", but Miss Pauling supposed that it was because she was the only woman they'd seen in more than six years. She was younger than all of them, as she was technically fresh out of Harvard. She turned off the tap and opened her makeup bag before applying some eyeliner and lipstick. It was the only stuff she used, and besides, she wasn't going to see anyone new.
She changed into her uniform, comprised of a purple collared shirt and a pencil skirt. She pulled up her nylons, which only went up to her thigh. She didn't make enough money to be able to afford a lot of things other women her age had, but she didn't mind.
Her job was fun.
She locked the door behind her and walked over to her Vespa. She stuck in the keys and started it up. She got on and rode to the red base. It was hot in the summer, and by the time she got there, she was sweating a little, but luckily she had a bottle of water and a small fan with her. She took a few sips before entering the base. She walked into the base, and into the main meeting room. There was a table there, with ten seats around it. In the corner, there was a small side table with a red button on it. She walked over to it, and pressed the button.
"Hey, guys. Do you mind coming to the main room? I have to plan some things with you." She spoke into the microphone that popped up out of the table.
As Miss Pauling walked back to the table and sat down, she heard muffled thuds, look footsteps. They were fast, so she knew who it was.
"Hey, how ya doin' darling? Ya come here to see lil' old me?" Scout ran into the room and sat in the seat right next to her, leaning over in order to get really up close and personal.
Sighing, Miss Pauling replied, "No, Scout. I did not come over just to see you. I need to tell you guys about this week's missions."
Dejected, Scout leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the table, waiting for the other guys to come. He sighed before walking up to the door and opening it himself, revealing Sniper, who was about to open the door himself before the Bostonian graciously did it for him. Sniper walked into the room, tipped his hat at Miss Pauling, and sat on the other side of her.
Soon enough, all the other men came into the room, last of all being Heavy, who had gone to get a sandvich before coming in. They all got to their seats before Miss Pauling started describing the planned missions for the week.
While in the process, she heard a whine from beside her. "Why're there so many payload races, Miss Pauling? You know I like gettin' da intel from those frickin' BLU's!" Scout said, clearly upset.
Miss Pauling sighed. "Scout, we can't have more than one Capture the Flag mission per month, and you know that. I don't have time for your whining. I have a lot of things to do today."
Scout rolled his eyes and make a noise from the back of his throat. He liked Miss Pauling a lot, but didn't like having to listen to her.
After finishing telling the team about their multiple missions for the week, Miss Pauling took a look at her To-Do List, filled with the different jobs she had to complete that day. She had a total of seven, which was way less than usual. Maybe she would have some time off today. Maybe she would be able to stay at home, and maybe reading a book with the radio on would become more than a daydream she had. Maybe she would be able to cook dinner for the first time in months.
The jobs were all boring, but at least she had some company. Scout had decided that it was his job to make her Monday as fun and fantastic as possible, for some reason. Which meant that he was going to accompany her while she buried multiple corpses and pulled molars out of heads. He was going to bother her endlessly, wasn't he? Could she handle all the "Miss Pauling, I'm lookin' mighty fine, dontcha think?" and "Miss P., you wanna do somethin' together later?" and "Miss Pauling marry me please."? She didn't think she was going to be able to keep it together.
Spoiler Alert: She definitely was not able to keep it together. Scout did not shut up. He was a good man, sure, and he did his job, but he couldn't keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it. Was he digging a grave? "Miss Pauling, did I ever tell you 'bout the time I flexed so hard the sleeves of my shirt ripped off?" Was he holding a head while Miss Pauling pulled teeth out of it? "Miss Pauling, hey, yannow, I ain't doin' anything this weekend, and I thought that maybe if I help you with your work you could finish faster an' we could go out or something? Maybe?" The truth was, Miss Pauling did like the Bostonian. But she wasn't about to put her job away just so that she could have a love life like her friends did. She didn't need one. She had a fun job, and she liked it a lot.
When they were done with all her jobs, it was only five o' clock. She sighed after looking at her small watch. She pushed her hair out of her face and got onto her scooter.
"You coming, Scout?" She asked, tired.
"You betcha, beautiful!" Scout replied.
Miss Pauling felt her face go hot, but she ignored it, thinking that the man only said it because he wanted to get laid or something. She put the helmet on his head and waited for him to fasten it before starting the violet Vespa. She knew that he needed the helmet more than she did, with his constant yelling at truck drivers and the like. Who knows who might throw things at him?
Miss Pauling finally got to red base, but Scout didn't want to leave. She sighed after a while, the argument becoming too tiring for her.
"Do you want to come over to my house, Scout?" She rolled her eyes.
"That I do, gorgeous. Let's go!" He disappeared into the base and came back holding a soda drinker hat with two cans of Bonk! and some pajamas with his class emblem all over them.
Miss Pauling looked at him flatly. "You're not planning on being able to use those, are you?" She asked. She didn't remember inviting him to stay overnight, and she wasn't really okay with the idea.
Scout rolled his eyes before getting on the scooter. Miss Pauling rode on over to her house, with the Bostonian holding on to her with widened eyes. Miss Pauling shrugged it off, thinking that he probably didn't have a lot of scootering experience back in the big city. By the time she got back to her small house, he was so scared that he jumped off the scooter, threw the helmet up in the air, and ran to her front door. Miss Pauling caught the helmet, hung it on the handlebar of the Vespa, and walked to her door. She unlocked it, and Scout waited for her to walk in before going inside himself and closing the door behind him.
"So, um… Miss Pauling, what didja wanna do?" Scout said, looking around her house at all the medals on the walls.
"Well, Scout, I was planning on reading a book, maybe cooking dinner, but you kind of ruined that plan." Miss Pauling sighed a little, thinking about all the things she could've done that day.
"Why don't we just…" Scout walked over to the speakers and the tape player on the table near the window of her living room. He clicked the player on, and jazz music started playing. "Why don't we dance, then?"
Miss Pauling couldn't help but crack a smile as she said, "You know what, sure."
The Bostonian swinging his arms with the music. Miss Pauling didn't start right away, but she eventually gave in and started dance hesitantly. Scout laughed and took her hand, spinning her around. Miss Pauling smiled, and just went with it all. It was a little too much, as she hadn't planned to have this much fun that day. But she was thankful for it. It was the best time she'd had in a while, considering that most of her jobs comprised of speechless dead bodies and rotting corpses. It was nice to have living company. Company that laughed and spoke with her, company that danced. It was just what she needed, even though she didn't know that at the time. She felt like she had a friend. She felt loved.
It wasn't a bad feeling, either.
They danced together until Miss Pauling was tired, which was actually a long time, considering she was used to running around dead bodies and removing all evidence of large-scale crime scenes. Scout, however, was jumpy as ever, especially drinking from the soda drinker hat, which he liked to call the "Bonk Helm", which made him super hyper. Miss Pauling yawned, and asked if Scout was ready to go back to base, but he refused to go, wanting to stay at the woman's house overnight.
Eventually, Miss Pauling gave in, and went over to the kitchen to cook dinner. She opened the fridge to get some cream and cheese to make alfredo sauce with. She went to her pantry, and got some pasta to boil. Scout zoomed in, and took out some pots and pans, ready to help her cook.
"Yannow, I helped my ma make alfredo pasta all the time. It's my favorite!" The man yelped over the sound of the fan Miss Pauling had turned off to take the boiling water.
"Really? Can you boil the pasta, then, Scout?" Miss Pauling was impressed. She had been under the impression that Scout just lazed around all day and whined while his poor mother took care of her eight sons. Apparently that wasn't the case.
The pasta was done, and the two took the food over to Miss Pauling's table to eat it. Scout ran to the pantries and brought some plates and glasses of water, before pulling out Miss Pauling's chair before running over to his own. Miss Pauling smiled at the gesture, issuing a quiet, "Thank you," before starting to eat the pasta.
"How is it?" Miss Pauling inquired. "I don't usually make food at home. Usually I just go out and order chicken or something." She chuckled.
"You like chicken?" Scout asked, his eyes wide and his mouth open. He hadn't nailed her as the type to like something that can get so messy.
After they finished eating, Miss Pauling washed the dishes with Scout and showed the somewhat older man to a guest room that she had.
Scout mock-scowled, and whined, "You sure you wouldn't want me with you tonight, darlin'?"
"No, Scout, I'd rather sleep alone, you know, until I'm married and all."
"Yeah, I figured. Smart, classy ladies like you don't wanna do all dat before you're stable. I like that about you, yannow. I mean, sure, I'm after all those trashy girls all the time, but I don't actually… got feelings for 'em. N-Not like I've got for you." Scout felt his face go red, but he really had to say this.
Miss Pauling hadn't thought that the Scout had thought about her like that. She thought that he just wanted to get her in bed and leave.
She smiled. "I'm glad, Scout. Who knows, maybe it can work out. I've been trying to separate my life and my job, but maybe, with you, I can have both at once. Good night, Scout."
"Good night, Miss Pauling."
I've been working on this for a while. I had planned my first TF2 fan fiction to be a little less "romancey", but I think this is too cute to keep myself from posting it! Sorry it's short, guys!