Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't.
Cheers.
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Things only seemed to get worse for the Spy's condition as the day went on. Soon he could barely move at all which immediately brought several curious questions to mind. How would he shower, how would he use the restrooms, and, most importantly, when could he get back to slinking around the base? He loved slinking. It felt amazing sneaking past people and being stationary only caused him to long for the simple freedom of walking around on his own steam. He felt twice his weight and pinned down; it was a horribly restless feeling though the Sniper seemed to be trying to keep his mind off of it as they shuffled up the hallway together.
"Well, I suppose you could use the handicapped shower."
"..We have one?"
"Sure we do. What do you think the Demomen hold onto when they wake up with a hangover?"
"Very well. I am sure I can handle it on my own."
"There's a trooper!" the Sniper said supportively, adjusting his hold on the Spy as he more or less dragged him into the room.
An Engineer was washing his hands in there and he glanced over curiously as the pair entered. "Woah now, you boys are headed the wrong way. Infirmary's on the other side of the base."
"I am well aware of zhat," the Spy said irritably.
The Sniper quickly spoke up to cool off the situation, "He'll be fine. Just needs a bit of help gettin' around is all. Thanks for the concern, mate."
"Right on. If you say so.." the Engineer said with an unconvinced scratch of his head. He took his glove from the side of the sink and put it back on as he headed around them and exited the room shaking his head.
"Can we hurry zhis up? I don't want to have to explain myself to everyone who comes in here."
The Sniper was already moving again, "Sure, sure. Roight this way then."
It was getting to the stall which was the hard part; once there, the Spy was able to support himself against various walls and maneuver enough to take care of himself. The Sniper took the hint and went to go grab a magazine.
"I'll be around, mate, just give a holler when you need me," he said as he tossed his empty drink can into the trash. He heard angered French muttering from the stall and smiled as he strode out.
That poor angry bloke, thought the Sniper as he leafed through a hunting magazine out in the hall. He supposed he had reason -- after all, several things as of late could have gotten under the Red Spy's suit. Lack of stealth, lack of self-defense, and being slowed down. As he crossed off the mental checklist, he hummed and admitted that perhaps he was getting off lucky where the Spy's rage was concerned. Along with that hum came a yawn and he was late to put a hand up over it. Ugh.. How long had he been up now, 72 hours? Power naps had been sustaining him, but even those combined with the Bonk weren't going to save him from the inevitable sleep he needed.
Still, he was a Sniper. He dealt easily with drowsiness and knew he could force himself to be alert if needed. After all, his job commanded stamina and utter control of his body. Staying up for days at a time was nothing new to him. Babysitting a Spy, however, was something he'd never encountered. It was around half an hour later that he decided to check on his ward, tucking the magazine under one arm and pushing the washroom door open to step inside. He couldn't immediately see him, but that was fine and good. It wouldn't do to have the showers directly facing the door, would it?
"Still alive in here?" he asked, glancing about.
"Somewhat," came the belated reply. The Sniper followed it, coming around the bathroom stalls to find the Spy re-clothed and leaning fully on a wall. He was slumped, it wasn't a suave lean from what he could tell.
"Come, let's get out of zhis place."
"What, you mean you don't want to admire the architecture?"
The Spy shot him a pointed, unamused look. He was already grudging in accepting the Sniper's help. He had a lot of pride and wasn't very willing to toss it up on account of a silly handshake in the infirmary. Frankly the Sniper could care less about the Spy's pride issues. He walked right over and grabbed the man by the arm to start dragging him away. The Spy came with him but promptly stumbled and emitted a grunt of annoyance at the incapability of his own legs, "Merde!"
The Sniper sighed gruffly, "You want to get this done quickly, mate?"
"But of course, you idiot. Do I look like I am having a good time?"
"AGH! Mon dieu, what do you zhink you are you doing!" he flailed as best he could when the Sniper finally got fed up and scooped the wobbly Spy up into his arms bridal style.
"Watch your head, mate," he warned as he pushed the door open with his back and stepped out into the hallway.
The Spy was too distracted with rage to take notice of the door frame and so received a gentle bop on the head from it as he was carried through. Dizzied and upset, he sputtered uselessly in French! The Sniper didn't really mind. He simply carried the frothing Frenchman back toward the barracks despite anyone they encountered along the way.
A Demoman paused as they passed him by, blinking and lifting the bottle of whiskey in his hand to peer suspiciously at it..
The Spy quickly realized his hissy fit would only embarrass him in public and so decided to to grouse silently in the Sniper's hold. He refused to meet eyes with the man, not that could past those dark glasses. Instead he just folded his arms and tried to think of something other than his pounding head. He watched the door to his room approach, fully expecting to be put down but.. what? The Sniper simply leaned back, leveraging the Spy's body against his chest and freeing his hand up long enough to pluck the key card from his vest pocket and swipe it through the reader.
Backing up, he hitched the door handle with the heel of his shoe and pulled it open. The Spy merely stared at the open door, watching his head this time as they went inside. "You just opened zhat door with your foot."
"I got eyes, mate. I know what I did."
"Well yes, but-"
"Down you go."
Whump.
He was back in his bed again, nice and clean.. and with more pillows, he noticed. Seems the Sniper had done more preparing while he was washing up. So he relaxed, he had to. His body had begun feeling heavy again and this time he did not resist. The Sniper clinked around on his desk, causing him to look over and notice with a horrified expression that some of his papers had been scribbled all over! "..aw. Why.. Why!"
"Why what?" the Aussie asked, picking up the thermometer and the fresh ice bag he'd prepared as he moved back to the bed.
"My papers? Was zhat necessary? I-- You'd better not have read anyzhing!"
He pointed accusingly at the Sniper who simply grabbed his hand and moved it aside, "Mouth open, mate."
"Non!"
"Mouth open or those notes go in the shredder."
It was amazing how quickly that thermometer made its way under the Spy's tongue. The Sniper yawned subtly as he sat down in his chair and pulled the beeping thermometer from the Red Spy's lips. It was nearing afternoon. He knew he couldn't take much more of this babysitting business today, but he had to at least assure the Frenchman wouldn't drop dead on him. The Spy rolled his tongue around his mouth, blinking dully as the ice bag was settled over his head.
"Hundred an' two, mate."
"Mmf.."
"How's about you try and get some rest?"
"You seem to be in need of some yourself, if I may make a sugjhestion."
"Oy' if that ain't the truth.." The Sniper pinched the bridge of his nose and glanced around. "Well.. I'll be fine here. You can just punch me if you think you're dying, all right?"
"What if I just want to punch you?"
"Guess you can try explainin' that to me when I wake up and strangle you," said the Sniper, peering down to observe the smile on the Spy's face.
So that was the plan. The Spy nestled into the pillows and focused on the chill spreading over his eyes, having no trouble relaxing and letting sleep tug him away. The ice bag stayed where it was too, the broad towel made sure of that and allowed the Sniper a pair of free hands which he used to adjust the Spy's blanket. The desk chair was comfortable enough; plush leather lining, swing-out arm rests, an air-controlled height adjuster.. It didn't have a foot rest, but he was fine with that.
The Sniper tipped his hat down and folded his arms loosely across his chest as a final yawn escaped him and he let himself succumb to the sleep he'd been chasing for days..
A trickle of moisture rolling down the side of his nose woke the Red Spy. He had no idea what time it was, but as he wiped his face with a hand, he determined that the ice bag on his head had not only melted, but sprung a leak as well. Bah.. only water, he left it up there.
To his right he observed the lethal Sniper, not so dangerous when asleep though he knew better than to try anything that might startle the man. Huh.. He was still asleep and, from what he could tell, completely relaxed. His folded arms had migrated down to his lap in a subtle cross, long legs sprawled out against the floor in front of him as he breathed evenly. Sleeping upright couldn't have been comfortable, but it wasn't as though the Sniper was awake to gripe.
A trooper, that's what the Sniper had called him earlier. He couldn't say he really agreed. Most of the time he'd just been bull-headed and made things harder for the gunman to take care of him. If anybody was doing their duty here, he admitted to himself, it was the Red Sniper. ..but that still wouldn't stop him from protecting his dignity! That was important and if he wasn't going to die from this then he'd be making sure to stay on his game until it was over. That in mind, he decided to find out what time it was.
Hm.
Moving? Could he move? The Spy frowned; he shuffled around, flopped, grunted. Failed, ultimately, is what he did. He was even forced to squint an eye shut as he shook a fresh stream of water loose from the bag above. "Ugh!" he scoffed, laying there indignantly as water dribbled steadily down his frowning face.
The Sniper shifted a bit, flexing a leg and readjusting his arms. The Spy bit his lower lip, fearing that he'd woken the man unnecessarily when something else assaulted his eyes. Groaning, he shut them both and squinted angrily at the source! ..oh. It was the Sniper's watch which, as the man eased back into rest, ceased its blinding reflection and sat at a readable angle. ..3 o'clock. But it had been 2:30 when he'd last been awake! Surely he'd slept longer than thirty minutes? ..ah, there, a tiny little moon icon at the lower half of the watch face. So it was three in the morning then -- 3:15 if he felt like being precise.
Over twelve hours of rest made perfect sense for someone in the Spy's condition, but he also noticed that the Sniper was out like a light. Was that usual for a Sniper? Well, he certainly wasn't dead -- his shifting around had assured that. He pondered waking him for a few minutes until the steady drip of the ice bag began to drive him mad. Oh yes, he'd need the Sniper awake right now.
Poke. Poke poke.
He jabbed at the Aussie's arm from where he lay, unable to punch him though that would have been the more amusing route to take. Poke poke-a poke poke.. poke poke. Grunting, the Sniper stirred a bit and shifted his jaw around. He brushed at the Spy's hand as if shooing him, but he merely poked a different part of his arm, even speaking up, "Monsieur Sniper. Wakey wakey.."
No effect.
"..SPY IN ZHE BASE!"
"WHERE?" The Sniper suddenly yelled with a start, flinging himself upright in the chair and reaching for the Kukri strapped to his back.
The Spy pulled back his hand and lifted a satisfied eyebrow, "Right here."
Blinking a number of times, the Aussie gradually regained his bearings and relaxed in the chair. He began to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Aw, mate... Don't do that t' me," he grumbled.
"It is hardly my fault zhat you are such a sound sleeper."
"Normally I'm not!" he insisted, removing his glasses to rub his eyes and push a hand along his stubbled chin, "Look, you need something?" He glanced at his watch with an embarrassed frown.
The Spy simply smiled a tight smile and let the Aussie notice the Chinese water torture all on his own.
Immediately he looked apologetic and grabbed the bag away as he fumbled his glasses back on, "Oh sorry about that, mate!" Holding a hand under the leak, he quickly stood to go dump the whole mess in the metal bucket he'd used to bring it in the first place. "Not sure 'ow that happened."
"I assume it had somezhing to do with the bag, and zhis amazing thing called 'melting'.."
"Smartass," said the Sniper as he wiped his hands dry with the towel and then returned to the Spy's side to quite literally rub the smugness off of his face with it.
"Mghghlf!" came his muffled, angry reply -- it was probably in French.
The Sniper picked up the towel with a pleasant smile on his face, "There, all nice n' dry."
The Spy could look less amused if he tried, but he wasn't in a trying mood.
"Well, Oy'm gonna go find myself some real food and wash up, can I get you anything, princess?" At first the Spy was prepared to fling a particularly rude insult in the Sniper's direction, but then he fell into some real thought. Did he need anything? ..oh wow. That was a good point. He'd be stuck here for a while and he couldn't very well sleep the entire time. Why didn't he think of that earlier?
The Sniper was waving a hand in front of his face as if to revive him, "Anybody home?" he asked.
"Somezhing to read," he blurted out, looking from the man's hand to his face. "And.. information."
"Of what variety?" The Sniper stood straight and adjusted the strap of his quiver.
"Ask zhe team how zhings are coming along with zhe intelligence. ..non." He lifted a hand, shaking an index finger, "Ask zhe Spies. They will know best.."
"Awright then.. Want me to pass around a get well card for you?"
"Yes, that would be very n-- .." He realized what the Sniper had actually said, fixing him with an exasperated look.
After scooping the bucket under one arm, the smiling Aussie leaned down to give the Spy's head a fond pat, "Back in a blink, mate."
The Spy soured predictably at the pat, not that the Sniper cared as he pulled the door open and stepped outside.