The whole week flew in a blur. Sometimes, in true Spy fashion, the rogue would appear in a cloud of smoke and ambush him for friendly conversation. In all honesty, the man didn't seem to have much to do now that book club was disbanded.
The rift between Medic and Heavy didn't spill onto the battlefield, but it sure did make life interesting everywhere else. The first time Demo tries to find Spy on his own, nearly a week later, he makes the mistake of checking the infirmary again. Immediately, Medic drags him inside, a pre-prepared monologue halfway out of his lips.
"The themes of tragedy far outweigh the romantic aspects of Tolstoy's work. If Heavy cannot see that, he is an idealist and a fool," Medic growls, stuffing what looks like a second brain inside an octopus.
"Uh-uh," Demo replies, his eye fixed on the Lovecraftian horror in front of him. He thinks he sees it twitch.
"And his interpretations of some of the characters…Kitty, Levin, Vronsky…Especially Vronsky. He's just so…uhg!" Medic's apparent disgust for the Heavy Weapon's Specialist manifests in a feat of extreme strength. He shoves the brain inside the octopus with all his might, causing a spurt of orange goo to splatter across his coat. He looks down with distaste.
"Ah, well, I can see you're a tad busy, so I'm just goin' tae-"
"Demoman!" Medic snaps. "Hand me my spare owl brain."
Demo looks between the doctor and the jar he's pointing at. "I'd really rather not."
A few flies must have fallen dead with the look Medic shoots him. He hands him the owl brain. Medic goes back to work.
"Kitty and Levin's relationship does not negate every other non-romantic theme in the book, nor it's inevitable conclusion. To think that-"
Medic says his next sentence to Archimedes, who watches the proceedings with just as much dismay as Demo. The Demolitions expert uses the distraction to escape.
Once he's made it to the hall, there's nowhere else to go really. He's already checked the smoking room, locked from the inside. The kitchen is empty, the common room only contains the disgruntled Heavy, and the outer yard-
"Yo, depth perception! Catch!"
-is occupied by Scout.
Despite Scout's jeer, the depth perception problem isn't as bad after a lot of practice. He catches the incoming ball, to Scout's disappointment.
"Aw," the younger mercenary says as he runs up, "I wanted to see you fall down."
"Yeah," Demo says, tossing Scout's baseball up in the air, "I bet."
"Where are you headin'? You never come out here unless it's to get somewhere else."
"Nowhere. Just comin' from the infirmary."
Scout nods solemnly. "Oh yeah. I heard Medic turned ya into Violet Beauregarde the other day."
"Intae…what?"
"Ya know. Violet Beauregarde? Girl who got puffed up like a blueberry and had to be de-juiced?"
How is he expected to know every random horror story that popped in the papers? It's probably some Boston thing Scout expects everyone to know about.
"Ach, whatever. Have you seen Spy at all?"
Scout chews the inside of his cheek. "That's right, you two are all buddy-buddy now. Why're ya hangin' out with that frog anyways?"
"He's less annoyin' than you, for one thing."
He doesn't really need to pick a fight with Scout, but there's nothing better to do right now.
"I'm not annoyin'! An' give me back my ball!" Scout makes a lunge for it, and Demo holds it even higher out of reach.
Things went about their natural escalation from there.
"Ah, Demoman. I have been meaning to speak with- what happened to your face?"
"Oh this?" Demo asks, indicating his bruised forehead. "Just having a little fun with Scout."
Spy shakes his head. "The day that boy learns a proper sport is the day hell freezes over."
The injury is baseball related, but not in the way Spy believes. Demo thinks it's better that way.
"So, you wanted tae talk with me?" Demo says, pretending like he hadn't spent all afternoon looking for the rogue.
"Yes," Spy confirms. "As you know, it is Thursday. I wanted to see if you had made a decision yet."
Oh god. Like he could forget. Carefully, Demo looks around the abandoned hallway.
"There is no one around," Spy soothes. "I keep tabs on BLU team's locations at all times."
Okay, that' a bit hard to believe, even for Spy. Demo relents anyways. "Tae answer, your question: no, I havenae made a decision."
Spy presses his lips together tersely. He had been trying to convince Demo to confess his feelings ever since he explained the nature of Grenades. Although "convince" was more like "pressure in uncomfortable ways," but it was all the same to Spy.
"I just…" Demo begins, looking uncertainly at the floor. "I can't go in there nae knowin' how he might react. If only I knew-"
He stops, his eye opening in a moment of brilliance.
"If I knew how things were, it would make it effortless. And you could find out!"
Spy blinks, surprised the conversation has turned on him. "Me?"
"Yes you!" Demo shouts, forgetting for a second he's supposed to be discreet. He carefully drops his voice back down to a whisper. "That's your whole thing, innit? Go around in people's rooms, pokin' in stuff. I know you've done it tae all of us at least once. All I'm sayin' is: go through some of his things, do a little investigatin', find out if he's, you know…" Demo makes a vague hand gesture Spy doesn't react to. "…If I have a shot."
Spy stares blankly back. After a few seconds, he responds.
"No."
"No? You do this shite all the time! Why not?"
"Because no matter how low my opinion of Soldier may be, I still respect him enough not to go looking for something so personal. That crosses a line Demoman."
"Oh, you respect his privacy but nae mine?" Demo growls. "What about all the diggin' you did on me?"
"I did not do any 'digging'," Spy denies. "I watched, I observed, I made deductions. And, might I remind you, I left it up to you to decide whether or not to tell me."
Demo sighs, rubbing his temples. If Spy can make you feel like a bad person, you're probably doing something wrong.
"Okay, okay I get it. But you can understand why I'm nervous, right?"
Spy gives him a sympathetic look, something he has been practicing over the past few days. "I can. I know you are afraid how Soldier will respond, and your fears may be justified. But I can tell you this: no one ever fell in love without being a little bit brave. You can do this, Demoman."
Demo takes a moment to look anywhere but at Spy.
"Well. At least one of us believes in me."
It's minutes before Soldier arrives, and Demo's still not ready. Well, technically, he's completely ready; and therein lies the problem.
He looks between two very similar T-shirts, endlessly hung up on the fact that he has no idea what the hell he's doing. Does he want to go casual, so that Soldier doesn't get suspicious? Or should he wear something nicer, so that Soldier didn't think he's some pathetic slob who wears his Highland Caber Toss Club shirt to a date?
Logically, Soldier wouldn't give a damn. The American isn't the most perceptive person in the first place, and Demo doubts he would judge another man's fashion sense. (At least when it comes to things besides kilts.) But it's just so nerve-wracking, sitting here, waiting for him to show up, both dreading and longing for it to start…
A knock.
Demo jumps out of his skin, ripping open the door while Soldier still had his fist raised.
"Hi Solly! Wonderful night for an evenin', wouldnae you agree?"
"Uh…" Soldier says, slowly lowering his hand, a bit freaked out by Demo's undeterred enthusiasm. "Yeah, I guess."
Demo scoops up the case he had been hiding under the bed, bustling past Soldier into the hall. He's already halfway up the stairs when he realizes he forgot to close his bedroom door, but he'd too embarrassed to walk past Soldier again. He can't get to the roof fast enough.
By the time Soldier makes it up, Demo's already hanging his feet over the edge, readying to crack open his first beer.
"What's your hurry, Scotty? Got something going on more important than Grenades?"
"N-no, no hurry," Demo says, picking off the label with his fingernail. "Just a bit stressed from the battle today."
Which is a big fat lie. He spent most of the day with Engineer, bunkering down in the sentry nest and playing his "defense" role to a T.
"Alright then," Soldier says with a shrug. He sits down beside the Demoman, the case between them.
Demo is thankful that the beer creates a little barrier between them, Soldier's proximity already making him sweat. But a part of him still wishes his friend would sit beside him, make them closer, enjoy his company.
Oh god he can't do this.
"So what's that one?" Soldier says, pointing to a group of stars over to the left.
Demo follows his finger to the cluster, blinking at the beautiful lights. "No fuckin' clue."
"Really?" Soldier says, dropping his hand. "I thought you knew all about this star crap."
"It's 'astronomy', and no, I don't." Something in his chest lightens, taking his mind off the butterflies trying to escape his insides. "In fact," Demo says with an almost devilish grin, "I'm willin' tae let you in on a little secret."
Soldier perks. He loves secrets, no matter how terrible he is at keeping them.
"What's the secret?" Soldier whispers, even though they're on the roof in the middle of the desert and alone for miles.
"Cassiopeia, Andromeda, and Perseus are the only constellations I know."
"What?" Soldier demands. "I thought you were some kinda expert."
"Exactly," Demo smirks. "A long time ago, I figured out that as long as you know three constellations, and maybe a bit o' trivia 'bout them, people will think you're some kinda genius. So, that's what I did. Memorized the three o' 'em, and never had anyone ever call me out until just now."
Soldier chuckles, and shakes his head in disbelief. "I could never do that. People would never think I'm a genius, no matter how many stars I remembered."
For a moment, Demo forgets his anxiety. There's a note of sadness in Soldier's voice that's hard to miss.
"Hey," Demo says, placing a hand on his shoulder, "dunnae say that."
"It's true. Do you really think anyone would ever think I'm smart?"
"O' course I do! Half your crazy schemes actually end up workin', somethin' most master-strategists never even get tae. Anyone who says you're nae smart has bees for brains."
"You are being facetious."
"I'm…what?" Demo blinks a few times.
"Facetious!" Soldier snaps. "I am being serious and you are making light of it."
"I'm nae!" Demo grabs Soldier by both shoulders, turning the other man towards him. "Listen Soldier, you're your own worst enemy. You cannae let a bunch o' snot-nosed prissy-pickers tell you who you are. You are smart. You're brave. And you-"
Demo stops. The got moved in the last few seconds, nothing separating him and Soldier except the length of his arms. He was so focused on giving Soldier a much-needed pep talk hadn't realized how close they had suddenly become.
"…And I need to tell you somethin'."
"Uh…okay?" The turnaround from happy-feel-good-self-esteem-time to serious talk makes Soldier's brow furrow.
"No, I mean I really got tae tell you somethin'. It's important, so you got tae listen tae me, and nae just…" Demo knows he's rambling. He takes a deep breath, and forces himself to look at Soldier in the eye. Carefully, making sure he gets each simple little word just right, he says, "I like you."
The silence on the roof is deafening. Soldier blinks a few times, his confusion mounting.
"That's…good? I like you too," he replies, and Demo wants to throw himself off the roof.
"No, no I dunnae mean like that. I mean…" He has no idea where to go from there. "I like you more than the rest of the team. Like…more than a friend. I like you in the way you're nae supposed tae like guys, but I do anyways."
Try as he might, he can't look Soldier in the eye.
There's another long pause, this one stretching across the entirety of the badlands. Just a Demo realizes he's still gripping his friend's shoulders and thinks to pull away, Soldier responds.
"Demoman. Are you telling me you are a homosexual?"
Demo looks up, and the look on Soldier's face isn't of anger or repulsion, but of calm curiosity.
"Er…I guess so?"
Demo had never thought himself a queer before; he'd been perfectly happy with all the women he'd dated in the past. But now…his feelings for Soldier put everything into doubt.
Soldier's expression is thoughtful, barely visible beneath the steel helmet. After a long, tedious minute of deliberation, he tells Demo this: "I'll need to think about it."
"What?" Demo replies blankly.
Soldier shrugs. "I said I'll need to think about it. You kinda dropped this on me outta nowhere, you know."
"Oh," Demo mutters. "Sorry."
"It's alright."
Demo drops his hands from Soldier's shoulders, and the American immediately leans back on his elbow, taking a sip of his beer. Demo doesn't know what to do except stare at him, his mouth hanging open slightly.
"So what's Andromeda's story," Soldier asks, staring up at the cluster next to her mother. The suddenness of it all snaps Demo out of his daze.
"Well," he begins, still quite sure what the hell just happened, "you remember her Mum, right? Well because she goes 'n pissed off the Gods, Poseidon sent a big arse sea monster tae get revenge. Andromeda gets chucked up as a human sacrifice, which stars a whole string a shite that eventually ends her up as a bunch o' stars."
The rest of the night is spent telling Soldier what little he knows about the Greek Gods and Goddess, starting with Perseus and moving on from there. Despite claiming them to be a "commie religion," Soldier listens with rapt attention. Eventually, it's time to turn in.
They say goodnight, and return to their rooms like nothing happened.
"-And then he says he'll think about it," Demo hollers, pacing back and forth in Spy's smoking room. "What does that even mean?"
"I assume it means exactly that," Spy replies, taking a drag from his cigarette. "Soldier is not one for multi-layered speech."
"Yeah, but think about what?" Demo asks the fresco ceiling.
Spy considers that for a moment. "Perhaps he merely thinks you were coming out to him? Are you sure you made it clear it was a love confession?"
"Yes!" Demo bellows, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "I used the word 'like' at least five times!"
"Ah, so it was a like confession, not a love one."
Demo stops pacing long enough to shoot Spy a glare. "It wasnae a like confession, it was a like like confession."
"Oh, a like like confession," Spy drawls, his voice dripping with condescension. "Was this before or after you passed him a note with hearts on it?"
"Why are you bein' so calm about this?" Demo says, stopping in front of the rogue. "You thought he was goin' tae fall for me right on the spot."
"And you thought he was going to spit in your face." Spy places his finished cigarette in the crystal ashtray. "Neither one of us was correct. And now, there is only one thing for us to do."
Demo raises his eyebrow.
"Wait for him to 'think about it'. Though," Spy says, already lighting another cigarette, "that may take a while. I'm sure it is not something that happens often."
Demo sighs, and collapses onto the couch with a wumpf.
A week passed.
Nothing changed.
Not. A. Damn. Thing.
Demo kept waiting for Soldier to show some sort of recognition that something had occurred between them, but nothing doing. The American was just as ostentatious as ever: overly affectionate when they won, and throwing a fit when they lost. It was like the night on the roof hadn't even happened.
There were regular sessions with Spy, where Demo stewed and Spy tried to be helpful. In all honesty, the Frenchman had too much on his plate anyway, trying to solve Heavy and Medic's ever-growing feud as well as the Demoman's romantic life.
"Why are you doing all this anyway?" Demo asks one day, lying face down on the fainting couch.
Spy looks up from Anna Karenina. "I assure you, I have no idea what you mean."
"All this," Demo repeats, gesturing to both the book and himself. "I know you dunnae do it for the gossip. You keep all these juicy little secrets for yourself."
"And the explanation that I am attempting to help my team is insufficient for you?"
"I think that's part o' it, but it's certainly nae the only reason." Demo props his chin under one arm to see the Spy better. "So, what is it mate? Why go through all the trouble?"
Spy lets a smile curve the left side of his face. "Why Demoman, it is because I enjoy the drama."
Demo laughs. "Now that I can believe."
It's been exactly one week. Grenades night again. Demo's on his way to his room to wait for Soldier, when he walks face first into Pyro.
"Mh! Hmm Mhhmmh hudda…mhdbhhbbmmm!"
"Oh, hey Py," Demo says, rubbing his chest where the gas mask smashed into him. "You lookin' for Engie? He's back in the lab still." Demo jerks a thumb toward the direction he just came from.
"Hrrnn Nnrr," Pyro says with a shake of their head.
"You're…nae lookin' for Engie?"
"Grrhh!" Pyro nods. "Hrrddurrrda, hrr mbbbmmuhuh, mhuhuh brurda." They jam a finger into Demo's already bruised chest.
"You're…lookin' for me?"
Pyro nods. Without any further ceremony, they turn around and tug at the zipper around their neck. Before Demo can even think to sneak a peak, it's zipped back up again and Pyro's removed something from inside it. They slap the something over Demo's head.
It's a graduation cap, with a couple of footballs hanging off the tassel. Demo blinks for a few seconds, watching the footballs swing methodically in front of his face.
"Uh…"
Pyro starts clapping. They then nod, looking around at an imaginary audience as though encouraging them to clap too. This goes on for a good thirty seconds.
Eventually, when he's sure Pyro is done, Demo says, "Ah. Thank you Pyro. That's very…nice of you tae say."
He could play guessing games all day, but it would probably go nowhere and he doesn't want to be late. Thankfully, his interpretation is close enough, and Pyro sequels in delight. Before he can say goodbye, Pyro scoops the cap of his head and rushes off down the hall.
Demo shakes his head. Damn, that kid sure is strange.
"Hello Demoman," Soldier says, pushing into Demo's half open room.
"Hey," Demo says from the desk. He had been trying to calm his nerves by making a few stickies, but it wasn't going well. It was also a very stupid idea in retrospect; frazzled bomb makers usually end up dead.
"Ready to go?"
It's like nothing has happened. They go to the roof, crack open the beers, and start talking about the week just like any other night. Demo feels sick. All of the sudden he realizes Soldier has been avoiding the subject, in an effort to not cause a scene.
This is better anyways, Demo supposes. Soldier's decided to let Demo down gently, instead of rejecting him up front. At least this way they can preserve their friendship, but the thought still saddens him. It's Spy's fault really, giving him false hope; there was a one in a million chance Soldier would ever think of him like that, and planning for it was the sort of foolish optimism that got people like him killed. Now, he was back at square one.
Demo is once again picking at the label on his bottle when he hears Soldier say, "Demoman, there is something I need to tell you."
He freezes. "Aye?" he asks, trying not to let his voice tremble.
"Last week you told me something very important, and I said I would think about it. Well, I did, and now I want to ask you something."
"Oh," Demo says, and it takes all his willpower not to run off into the desert and never be seen again. "And what is that?"
Solider lifts his helmet off his head and sets it in his lap. Demo doesn't realize the significance of it, too spellbound by the glittering stars in Soldier's electric blue eyes.
"Can I kiss you?"
It's like someone turned on the stadium lights.
"What."
"I have been thinking all week," Soldier continues, "and I'm still not sure how I feel about you. So I would like to kiss you, to know for sure."
This isn't happening. This is some whiskey induced fantasy dream, and any moment he'll wake up upside down on top of Sniper's van. In what universe would Soldier want to kiss him?
But the American is still right in front of him, tilting his head and patiently waiting for a response.
"Er.."
Yes! Say yes before he changes his mind!
"Huk...ger…I…"
Oh shit. How do you make words again?
"I…y-yes. Yes you can kiss me."
Soldier nods, and scoots a bit closer. Demo thinks he's going to faint.
This has to be some sort of trick. Any second now, the rest of the team is going to pop out of the stairwell and laugh at his stupid mug, and the fact that his mouth is still hanging open like he's trying to catch flies. He swallows.
Soldier leans in and Demo is about to think another string of this isn't happenings when their lips connect, and there's no space left in his brain for anything. The kiss is soft and sweet and Demo knows he's a good kisser, but suddenly he forgets everything he's ever learned. This is everything he's ever hoped for. Soldier is leaning into him, and even though their teeth click slightly against each other, it couldn't be more brilliant. And now he's wasting it by thinking of all the ways it could go wrong.
The kiss is almost over.
Demo panics. It's like when you have to restart a song because you weren't listening proper the first time, only Demo can't restart a kiss, and shit why didn't he enjoy it while it was happening?
It's over. Soldier stops kissing him.
But he doesn't pull away.
Instead, Soldier presses their foreheads together, gently touching their noses in an bunny kiss. It's hard to see him; the other man is so close he's nothing but a dark shape in the night. Not to mention Demo still has his blind side, leaving only the view of Soldier that paints him against the desert backdrop.
"Demo," Soldier whispers, his voice dissipating in the dry air, "I think I like you a lot too."
The Demoman makes a noise. It was probably supposed to be words at some point.
Soldier grins, taking Demo's hand in his own. Eventually, sitting on the dark rooftop, sharing the same breath while their fingers intertwined, Demo regains a bit of his composure.
"Well…that's just groovy."
