Last Thanksgiving, I found out my brother mained Scout when he played TF2. I shouldn't have been surprised, they're like exactly the same. Anyway my brother's internet name tends to be Underwear Officer...

and things snowballed from there.

If he finds out I wrote this I'm dead. Hahahaha.

And so:

READ ON!

---

"Vat did I tell you, Scout?" BLU's Medic chastised BLU's Scout, who glared at the German in defiance. Medic wagged a finger at Scout as he continued on to explain what he already told Scout seven times before, "I asked you kindly to vash your clothes, and you haven't done a thing to them!"

"I'll get to it later! Quit buggin' me about it, man!" Scout retorted for the eighth time. Medic opened his mouth to continue his disciplining tone, but Scout grabbed his ears and sang with a horribly high falsetto (and rather tone deaf) voice, "I need a fix 'cause I'm goin' down…!!"

"You vould do vell to listen to me for vahnce, fraulein!" Medic warned. Scout paid him no heed and continued to sing off key until the German grabbed his own ears in frustration (and to stop the bleeding), and stormed from the kitchen, leaving Scout to his own musical devices. Medic refused to continue hounding the child. He decided to let Scout learn about his own mistakes and come whimpering back to the doctor, begging forgiveness and instructions on how to keep himself cleanly.

Well, the German could dream, couldn't he?

---

An entire week passed, and Scout dug through his clothes. One shirt was so crumpled and dirty the sand of the desert had melded with his sweat and created a strange muddy compound that dried up. The shirt had turned into a caked creature, unable to be worn by any humanoid. Scout tossed it over his shoulder and dug further, but every article he pulled out was worse than the last. He pulled out his last pair of pants and poked at the mold that was accumulating on it with a confused blink. He glanced at the bottom of his chest of clothes and realized THAT was where he left his milkshake that he and the group had treated themselves to three months back.

"Rrrrrg…!" Scout hissed in annoyance, standing up and surveying his room; the floor was covered in clothes that he was completely unable to wear. In fact, the only thing that seemed even slightly wearable was the underwear he had on at that very moment, "Now what am I gunna do!?"

"Keep the racket down, Boy!" BLU's Soldier growled, pounding on Scout's door, "Git out here now! Breakfast's already cold!'

"I'm comin', dammit!" Scout shouted in retort. He looked around at the clothes on the floor and brainstormed. Just what was he supposed to do now…?

And then, a light bulb appeared over his head, and he smiled widely. He knew exactly what to do!

---

BLU's Heavy was complaining about the remaining cold breakfast as BLU's Demoman washed the dishes and BLU's Sniper leaned against the counter and dried Demoman's work, "Can I not eat the rest of the food?"

"It iz Scout's," Medic said, slapping Heavy's hand to keep it away from the food, "Az much az I know you dezerve it more zan zat schweinhund, vee muzt let him at leazt eat."

It was at that moment BLU's Pyro came into the kitchen. His/her head was lowered and s/he was shaking it back and forth slowly. The group stared at him/her, but they really should have realized what was making Pyro so sickened at life:

Scout strode confidently into the room, wearing nothing but his hat, pack, and pair of underwear. "So where's breakfast?" he asked the group.

There was the sound of something shattering. Everyone was staring at Scout (minus Pyro, who was searching for some rat poisoning to consume), and a dish had slipped from Sniper's hands. The sound restarted time, and Demoman burst into laughter at the sight of Scout. He was soon doubling over the sink, guffawing.

Heavy seemed to think it was just as funny, and he was slamming his hands together in laughter. Medic stared in horror as Scout picked up his plate with a faint "Thanks", and he began to devour his bacon.

"V-v-v-v-v-VAAAAT are you DOINK!?" Medic screeched, catching the Bostonian's attention. Scout leaned against the table and stared at Medic as he ate his food, "Vere are zee rest ov your clothes!?"

"In my room," Scout replied nonchalantly with a shrug.

"Vhy are you not vearing zem!?"

"Because they're dirty enough that I can't wear 'em right now," he said through his eggs.

Medic was flailing by that time; all the while the others were holding back their laughter. "I zought I TOLD you to wash them!"

"Doktor, do I not have to wash my clothes now too?" Heavy asked, prodding the doctor questioningly. Medic slowly lowered his head to the table, and he wrapped his hands over his head, trying not to make the heaving of his sobs too apparent.

"I should 'ave known it was you who was causing this racket…" BLU's Spy said. Everyone stared at the corner he had appeared in, and he leaned against the wall as he spoke, "Pray tell, Scout, how long will that pair last before you run around stark naked?"

"Huh?" Scout looked down at the already browning underwear. He shrugged; apparently he hadn't gotten that far in his planning. "I dunno, if I turn it inside out, I've got at least another five days, ya think?"

The entire room burst into laughter, aside from Spy, who never laughed, Pyro, who was shuffling from the room with Demoman's extra whiskey in hand, and Medic, who was speaking silently to the table about how much he tried to avoid this course of events.

Scout ignored the laughter and dumped his plate on the top of the other dishes. He then placed his hands on his hips and shouted aloud, "Right then! Underwear Officer is clear for combat!" And with that, the Bostonian tore from the room, leaving the room deathly quiet if not for the dying laughter and sobs.

"Did heheheheheheeeee…" Heavy practically giggled, wiping a tear from his eye, "Did little boy call himself 'Underwear Officer'?"

"Aye, Lad, that 'e did…" Demoman replied, snorting with laughter.

Soldier, who was trying to calm his own laughter down, ended up inching towards Medic. The German had finally regained his cool composure, and he was readjusting his tie. Soldier smirked from under his helmet and leaned down to whisper in the "good" doctor's ear, "looks like you've got some laundry to do if you ever plan on returning this group to some semblance of sanity."

Medic buried his face in his hands and sighed exasperatedly.

At least Pyro wanted Scout to wear clothes as much as Medic did… He could ask the fire monster if s/he could help the doctor.

Well, the German could dream, couldn't he?

End!