A short chapter to tide you over. Enjoy!

That night an unseasonal storm broke over 2Fort. Rain was dumped over the compound and continued into the morning. The problem with a dusty location such as 2Fort wasn't so much the dust, but rather what it became when it mixed with water. Outside was now an impenetrable slurry of mud. Battles had been postponed for the day.

While this might have come as a welcome relief to some war-weary men, it couldn't have been worse timing for Scout.

At six in the morning, fresh as a daisy, Scout could only stare out his window in anguish. He had more energy than a speed addict and absolutely no outlet to relieve it. His pressed his nose up against the glass and sighed in frustration. Droplets raced down the window as a cruel reminder that he couldn't control the weather.

You know what? Fuck it! Scout decided that a little water wasn't going to kill him. He had to get out and he had to get out now. He wasn't used to waking up with the vivid recollection that he had let another man give him a hand-job. Sure, maybe it was possibly the best, most explosively amazing hand job he had ever had in his life, but that was beside the point. He had let another man give him a hand job, and that just didn't fly right. He decided that whatever black magic Heavy was using was going to end. Effective immediately.

He took the headset of his cap so the water wouldn't damage it before shoving the hat down on his head. He was thankful for the solitude that early mornings provided him. He wasn't in the mood to make small talk with anyone right now.

He bolted outside and into the deluge, attempting to leave his confused thoughts behind.

An hour later Scout returned to the base. He was absolutely soaked to the bone and panting heavily. Mud had splattered so far up his body that he had to wipe it off his cheeks.

The run helped to relieve some of the pent up energy but it was frustratingly ineffectual as stopping his mind's inner replay of last night. It was currently stuck on loop and it was irritating the shit out of him.

On his way to the showers he bumped into Sniper who was heading to the mess hall. Still in his morning haze, Sniper had to pause and stare for a moment before he knew what he was looking at. "Christ mate, you look like a drowned dingo."

Scout took the cap off his head and wrung the water out of it. "Oh really? Didn't notice. Thanks for the update pal."

"Might want to clean up quick. You'll miss brekkie."

"Yeah, okay. Got the message." Scout jogged away leaving muddy footprints behind him. He had been intending to skip breakfast anyway. Somehow the idea of eating with everyone today left a sour taste in his mouth.

He chose to go the long way to the showers, making sure to avoid the dormitory. He didn't want to risk bumping into any more teammates, or to be more precise, one fat Russian teammate. He raked a hand through his bedraggled hair and tried to shake twisted thoughts from his head.

Scout was so eager to get out of his sopping clothes that he sprinted through the door to the showers. He was still lost in his thoughts, so it wasn't until he was barreling chest-first into a solid wall of flesh that he finally snapped back to reality. He landed on his ass with a thud.

Heavy blinked down at the grounded Scout in surprise. He looked like he had just finished showering. He had a towel wrapped around his broad paunch and another slung over his shoulder. The air was still thick with steam and his skin glistened with moisture.

"Leetle Scout is wet?"

His usual retort of 'no shit, Sherlock' fell dead in Scout's mouth. He could only gaze up at Heavy, petrified. He couldn't even pick himself up from the floor.

"Did Scout run in rain? This is not good. Will catch cold."

Still caught in an uncharacteristic stupor, Scout didn't protest when Heavy squatted down and effortlessly hoisted him to his feet. Heavy gripped him by the shoulders and leaned in to study the frozen man.

"Is Scout sick? Is not saying so much?" He pressed a large palm against Scout's forehead checking his temperature. He expression grew stern and he moved to tug at Scout's shirt.

This was enough to snap Scout out of his trance. "Whoah!" He grabbed Heavy by the wrists, halting his attempts. "Whatta ya doing?"

Heavy frowned. "Scout is sick. Should get out of wet clothes."

"No I ain't fuckin' sick!" He took a large step away from Heavy. He was still completely caught off-guard by this unexpected meeting. "Sides, even if I was I can undress by my freaking self."

There was an awkward moment of silence between them. Scout held his dripping shirt down and became increasingly aware that how intimidating Heavy was with all that bare skin exposed. He swallowed. His mouth had suddenly become very dry.

Heavy was first to break the pause. "So Scout is feeling okay?"

"Feel fine, man. I just… got caught in the rain."

He didn't know what do exactly. It was a bit strange to be having such a casual conversation. Especially in the shower room while Heavy was in a towel and especially because this half-naked man had jerked him off last night. His immediate instinct was to flee from the situation, but a small part of Scout knew how ridiculous that would be. For now he stayed put, stuck in this awkward limbo with Heavy.

"Well," Heavy adjusted the towel around his hips, "this is good. Would be bad if Scout was sick again so soon."

Heavy moved to retrieve his clothes and Scout sidestepped to let him pass. "Is shame there are no battles today. Was funny to see the BLU babies cry yesterday!" He laughed loudly and wandered towards the lockers. "Scout was credit to team. You can always come to me if there is problem, yes?"

Scout was still standing in place and a small puddle had now collected around his feet. The muscles of Heavy's back rippled as he bent down to collect his pants. When the towel fell from his hips Scout knew this was his cue to hightail it out of there.

"Right! I better… shower now."

He ducked straight into the closest shower cubicle and pressed his body against the tiled wall. He smacked his forehead knowing how stupid he must have looked running into a shower without even taking his clothes off.

"Scout should be quick!" The Heavy called out to him. "Do not want to miss breakfast."

Scout stayed like that until he was sure Heavy had left. He breathed out a sigh of relief. He stripped off his sodden clothing and turned on the faucet to a scalding temperature. He wasn't going to think about Heavy and his amazing hands anymore. He was just going to get on with his fucking life even if that meant avoiding Heavy for the rest of the war.

Scout endured a very unsatisfying breakfast of beef jerky and a warm can of soda he'd been keeping under his bed. Today was going to be agony and he knew it. After pacing his room several times he looked at clock. Approximately five minutes had passed. Okay, this wasn't going to be a long-term strategy for avoiding boredom.

Rain pelted his window and a distant rumble of thunder echoed. He lightly slapped his face a few times. This wasn't right. He absolutely could not get Heavy off his mind. He shouldn't have enjoyed what he did so much and he sure as hell shouldn't want it to happen again. But he did. Desperately. So Scout stayed in his bedroom and continued to pace.

Lunchtime came and went. By four o'clock Scout was going out of his mind. He banged his head against his desk, just wishing he had the opportunity to shoot someone in the face. Anyone. His finger would curl around that trigger and squeeze it oh so slowly. The sound of the gunshot would ring in his ears before warm blood splattered across his face. He'd taste it on his lips and relish the copper flavour. Yeah, the battlefield was where it was. Fuck sitting in his room.

It was at that point Scout noticed he had an erection.

"Aw jeeze." He adjusted pants to give himself more room. He knew he was an excitable guy, but he'd thought he had more control over his libido than this.

It didn't take much deliberation. He fell to his knees to and scrabbled under his bed to retrieve his secret shoebox. When his fingers touched the cardboard he heaved a sigh of relief. He was always slightly paranoid that Solider would stumble across it during one of his 'authorized' room checks.

This was his prized treasure chest. It was where every slightly arousing picture he could get his hands on ended up. There were plenty of torn out catalogue pages as well as some posters of calendar girls he'd sourced from various places. He even had a few Polaroids of genuinely naked girls that his god-sent older brothers had sent him. If this wasn't the antidote to faggoty, he didn't know what was.

He leafed through his collection and picked out a choice picture. In a brochure selling women's underwear, they'd used a red haired bombshell as the model. She had a black garter belt riding up her voluptuous thigh and a rack you could just bury your face into. This picture was so manhandled that Scout had to keep it in a plastic sleeve to save it from disintegrating.

He sat up from his haunches to pull his pants down around his thighs. He didn't even bother sitting on his bed, instead he kneeled with his forehead pressed against the mattress. He hummed in appreciation as he looked down at this picture, imaging the nameless vixen pressing herself against him and sliding her tongue down his chest.

"Aww yeah, just like that" He mumbled, stroking his cock in a quick rhythm. "I got everything you need baby."

His simplistic fantasy began to take a strange turn. Somehow her perfectly manicured hands caressing his body began to distort. They grew larger, hairier and, with astounding strength, held him down to the ground. "Is leetle Scout enjoying this?" She said in a thick Russian accent.

"No, no, no!" Scout opened his eyes and let his vision dematerialize. Okay, that wasn't working for him. He threw the picture back in the box and picked out another. Ah ha! A grainy newspaper clipping of Brigitte Bardot. Perfect. She and Scout had had many a rendezvous in his imagination. He licked his lips and started again.

With this new girl fresh in his mind, Scout started the pick up the pace, jerking his hips back in forth in time with his thrusts. Oh yeah. He had Brigitte bent over a table and moaning for him, her blond hair in a wild mane framing her expression of ecstasy. He slid his hands over her smooth rump and gave it a squeeze. Getting more comfortable, he gripped the bed with one hand and arched his back. "Come on, come on!" He hissed to himself. For whatever reason, this foolproof fantasy just wasn't hitting the mark. This was taking far longer than usual, and his frantic stroking was starting to chafe.

The situation was getting desperate. He began to pull out every erotic fantasy his mind could conjure. Threesomes. Spanking schoolgirls. Tit fucking. None of it was enough. Scout desperately rifled through his pictures looking for one that could bring him over the edge.

Scout dipped his hand into the box and picked out a picture at random. It was a Polaroid of his brother's girlfriend bent towards the camera, cupping her weighty breasts in her hands. She was slightly on the larger side and not normally his first choice for jerkoff material. As he thought about her weight and what exactly his brother was doing when that picture was taken, his imagination took a sudden detour. He was back in Medic's office, laying across a cold bench with Heavy looming over him. His hands were manipulating Scout's body in ways he couldn't fathom and suddenly he was his hands and knees, taking in every inch of the great Russian.

Scout's own frenzied technique fell woefully short of Heavy's controlled skill, but this fragment of a memory was enough to let him come with a muffled cry.

A long silence followed. Scout listened to his own rasping breath subside. He looked down and discovered that his brother's Polaroid was now splattered with globules of come. He wiped if off with a nearby sock, returned it to the pile and pushed the box back under the bed.

Fuck. Scout pressed his face against the bed in grief.

Heavy had officially broken him.