I haven't abandoned this story, just lost motivation/inspiration. I decided to upload something I wrote a while ago. I wasn't too sure if this really fit with the theme of shenanigans I was going for, but it's been so long since I posted a chapter for you guys. Enjoy.
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Medic yawned, slowly stalking to the kitchen on the far side of Teufort's base. It was 2:32 AM, and most of the team had turned in for the night, given that the following day consisted of the same old, same old on the field. Miss Pauling relayed a few hours before dinner that the battle the next morning would be delayed until 11 AM, for reasons unknown to the RED mercenaries. A majority of the group had taken this as an opportunity to sleep in (minus Soldier, who seemed excited at the prospect of extra training time in the morning), and even Scout fell asleep at around one after crashing off his Bonk. Medic had decided to work on the paperwork from physicals and injuries regarding the team, as well as organizing his previous records on both his patients, and his medigun experiments. Unfortunately, the physician hadn't expected it to take so long, pouring over piles of loose sheets with barely legible scribbles and diagrams. Regardless, he was adamant on finishing up what he set out to do, lest he spend the rest of the night tossing and turning over nightmares of clutter drowning him.
The German yawned once again, moving his hand to cover his mouth out of habit. His fluffy kangaroo shaped slippers (a gift from Sniper's mother that the Australian refused to put near his feet) slapped against the wood paneling as he made his way down the quiet hall. Only a few bulbs lit his path, on every night for midnight snacks or bathroom trips. Medic idly ran a hand through his messy graying hair, trying to recall where he left Spy's immunization forms, his current dilemma that led him to his tea break. As he pondered over the possible "in the trash with Demo's empty bottles" present of Spy's forms, a small crash caught his attention. The doctor stopped in his tracks.
"Mmpsh!"
Medic raised an eyebrow. That was undoubtedly a mumble belonging to Pyro, the second shortest mercenary on the team with a penchant for fire, burning things and/or people, and Star Trek. wondering why Pyro was up so late , Medic headed down the hall, following the indistinct sounds which coincidentally led him to his previous destination, the kitchen.
"Pyro?" Medic slowly made his way through the doorway, blinking behind his wire-rimmed glasses as his eyes adjusted to the brightly lit room. The culprit stood with his back to the doctor, wearing a pink and white unicorn onesie, the horned hood pulled down to reveal the back of a gas mask. Pyro's shoulders stiffened upon hearing Medic's voice, and the German could see his fellow mercenary fumbling with something on the kitchen counter before abruptly turning around.
"Mmmic! Mpht mhaa mmruprise mpo mpee mpho mpher!" Medic was faced with Pyro in his usual onesie pajamas, dark, indistinct gas mask, and strangely, what looked to be a moving hump protruding from his midsection. Medic blinked, staring at the hump for a second.
"Vell, I live here so I don't zink it is much of a surprise for us to meet up at zis hour. Do you have some sort of tumor you vere trying to remove without me knowing?" The doctor pointed bluntly to Pyro's midsection, where the tumor hump was now making some strange gurgling noises from beneath the onesie fabric. Pyro shrugged his shoulders and lifted his palms up.
"Mphee? Mpnooooo," the pyromaniac brushed off, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary. He leaned back into the counter, attempting to look casual even as his tumor-hump continued to move around under the onesie as if trying to escape. Intrigued, Medic stepped closer, rubbing his chin as he eyed Pyro's midsection.
"Yes...zat seems like it could be some sort of infected tumor. Or a baby." Medic glanced up, eyes meeting the eye-holes of Pyro's mask. "I haven't noticed you being pregnant...have you been pregnant? I feel zat I vould notice somezing like zat..."
Pyro shook his head, waving his arms across his chest.
"Mpy mmuhs mphvr mprguhnt. Mmis mphis mmting. Mmo mphoud mpo mmck mpho mpleep," Pyro ranted, palm now up to wave Medic goodbye. The German did not seem at all convinced by Pyro's dismissal and subsequent urge for Medic to head to bed like a good old man. In fact, he seemed outright offended.
"Pyro, you can trust me. I vould never harvest your infected tumor." Medic paused, staring into Pyro's blank gas mask gaze. "For unscientific purposes."
"And if it is a baby," continued Medic, watching cautiously as the tumor-hump continued to squirm, the zip from the unicorn onesie slipping. "I vould be very curious to know who ze-"
Before Medic could finish his sentence, the tumor-hump broke free from the onesie, revealing a grainy box shaped head.
Medic blinked, hand moving to adjust his glasses.
"Grgkh!"
It was a loaf of bread. One of those toxic bread loafs from just a few weeks ago, in fact, the same one Medic remembered Pyro playing with after they destroyed the rampaging tumor-filled monstrosity that Soldier had accidentally created. The mumbling mercenary had somehow hidden the grain-product-turned-pet hidden since the group moved to Teufort, and no one in the base had even noticed.
"M-mpye mphn mmsplain!" Pyro defended, pulling the petloaf out of his onesie and holding it close. In response, the bread made another gurgling sound, spitting crumbs onto Pyro's mask from the mouth-shaped hole on its face.
"Zat is...all ze tumorous bread vas supposed to be destroyed," Medic deadpanned, shooting Pyro a frown. He did not expect to deal with something like this at such an hour - all he intended to do was make himself a cup of tea and begrudgingly return to his paperwork. Pyro pulled the petloaf closer, cradling it like a newborn.
"Mmn's mphs mphno mphumers! Mphee's mpafe," Pyro explained, and sure enough, Medic did not see any of the indicative green lumps along the bread. Regardless of the petloaf's tumor-free status, Medic raised an eyebrow.
"Pan? You named it?" Pyro nodded vigorously, and the petloaf dubbed Pan mimicked the action with some soft Medic just shook his head, hand moving to his temple to prevent an oncoming migraine.
"Pyro, zis...Pan needs to go. If ze administrator finds out-"
"Mphno!" Pyro interrupted, and Medic stepped back in surprise. He had rarely ever heard Pyro sound so distraught, at least to the extent of raising his voice.
"Mmleese mphlt mphee mmeep mphm!" Pyro begged, suddenly latching onto Medic, Pan squeezed between the two. Medic stumbled back at Pyro's sudden hug, flinching away as Pan attempted to spit crumbs at him as well.
"I can't let you keep it. Zat is not my decision, liebing. If-"
Medic deadpanned as Pyro started to make sobbing noises from behind his mask. Pan followed suit, though as usual, it sounded like scratchy gurgling to Medic. The German closed his eyes, pretending he was back in the infirmary, and instead of heading to get caffeine to complete his work, he resigned himself to bed.
Medic was not a man easily swayed by tears - not just because he was a physician, but because he was, in the words of others, "a crazy sadist pretending it was all for science." But although he had seen Pyro tear up before, maskless and undoubtedly more vulnerable, this sobbing was new. The German attempted to block out the crying, attempted to not notice Pyro's arms around him, the smell of ash strong under his nose.
"Okay, okay!" Medic broke, leaning back and opening one eye to glance at Pyro. "I vill not tell anyone. Now, bitte, end zis hug? I zink I am losing oxygen to my brain." Immediately, Pyro ceased sobbing and let go of Medic, arms now secured around Pan, who seemed to be grinning up at Medic, though it was difficult to say if that gape in the loaf was really a mouth.
"Mphnk mpho Mmimic!" One hand moved from supporting Pan to lift up the bottom of Pyro's mask. In less than a second, before Medic could move away, Pyro planted a kiss on his cheek. The doctor tried not to wince at the feeling of partially scarred skin against his own.
"Panny thanks you too!" Pyro related, shooting Medic a grin, before once again the gasmask was pulled down. As if to further prove the petloaf's appreciation, Pyro held him out to Medic's face to also offer a kiss. The German batted at the gurgling bread, turning away.
"I am going to go to sleep and pretend zat none of zis happened," he lamented, starting to head to the door and already assuming this was part of some elaborate dream.
"Mmood mphite!" Pyro called.
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Not sure if Pan's here to stay. But if you didn't know, pan means bread in Spanish. A hint of what kind of nationality I place Pyro as having hah.