What a beautiful day.
Actually it's a shit day, Sawmill is always crappy, gloomy, and filled with two inches of stagnant water, but to the Demoman it's the most picturesque battlefield in the world.
It's Saturday, only two days since Soldier had kissed him. Friday had been a blur, the reality not yet sunk in, the battle just like any other. But then there had been the after battle, Soldier pulling him aside, saying they needed to talk, and then going to his room for some privacy.
The "talk" turned into kissing. A lot of kissing. Demo still wasn't really sure what was happening, but honestly at that point he no longer cared. They left Soldier's room a little more disheveled than when they entered.
And now it's the weekend, a full day, and the world can't be brighter.
He eats his eggs, sitting shoulder to shoulder with the Soldier. Some of the team has left for the weekend, and others will be leaving after breakfast, but Demo and Soldier are staying. It's something Demo agreed to while still drunk on kisses, but not something he regrets.
Scout is unintentionally starting something with Soldier, insulting Nixon's integrity or something, and Soldier jumps at the bait. Demo is only vaguely interested. He never paid attention to politics, let alone American politics, and is only really involved in the conversation so he can stare at Soldier.
It's so much easier now. Before, he stared across the tables like a love struck teenager, heart eyes and all. (Well, heart eye.) Now he can look at Soldier without fear of making a scene, letting him relax while also enjoying his boyfriend's company.
The thought makes him jump. Is that the right word for Soldier? Boyfriend? He knows they made confessions and stuff, and did a lot of making out, but does that really make them an item? He pokes as his eggs.
It's something he'll have to ask Soldier about later. For now, even if he's not exactly clear on where they stand, he's happy to be there.
As Soldier bellows something, and grabs Scout by the collar of his shirt, Demo notices the Engineer staring at them from across the cafeteria. It's odd, mainly because Engie almost always heads home for the weekends, rain or shine. Additionally, it's even more odd because he's wearing his goggles during a meal.
The thick black glass hides his eyes, but Demo gets the distinct impression that Engie is glaring at him.
Shit. Did some of his thermacure spill onto Engie's side of the lab again? If so, he's probably planning on killing him. The last time that happened, Engie mistook it for oil and ended up with a highly combustible substance on his grease rag. Demo makes a mental note to avoid him for the rest of the weekend.
Fights with Scout seem to be this weekend's trend.
"Yeah?" Scout spits, what ever he had come to the training yard for forgotten. "Well at least girls give me a second look. You ain't so lucky. You probably can't even give 'em a first look, can ya Cyclops?"
Despite it being a rather juvenile insult, Demo brings his fist into Scout's face anyways.
Demo can't even remember why this particular argument started, only that it ends the way all their fights do. They roll on the ground for a few minutes, throwing punches and generally not using any real combat techniques whatsoever, until they get bored and break apart. Scout slinks off to go find Medic, leaving Demo in the yard alone.
Well, mostly alone.
"You really can't stand that kid, can you?"
Demo shrugs at the Sniper. "He's alright. Reminds me why I dunnae usually stay here on the weekends, though."
"He's alright?" Sniper asks. "You two can barely be in the same room without beating the shit out of each other. You're worse than him and Soldier."
"That's just how real men spend time together. Nae that you would know anythin' about that." He plops down next to Sniper, the Australian still holding his rifle down the range. Apparently, fistfights aren't conducive to his practice session.
"Huh," Sniper snorts. "Kids back home would always make fun of me for being skinny and not wanting to punch someone's teeth out as a 'how do you do?'. I like my privacy. And now, I can kill a man in eleven ways just with a pencil. Still think you're a real man by comparison?"
"Aye," Demo grins, though he realizes he's missing a tooth as he does so.
Sniper smirks back, despite himself. "You're a real oaf, you know that?"
"Says the guy who keeps his toenail clippings."
"Hey," Sniper interjects, "you never know when those might be useful."
"Yeah, I do. And the answer is 'never'."
Sniper rolls his eyes, and lifts one of them back to the scope. "You should go find a dispenser for that tooth of yours."
"I thought you were a Real Man, not me Mum."
"Apparently, I'm both." Sniper takes aim, still his breath even as he finishes his sentence.
Demo stands, knowing better than to interrupt him. As he passes through the front door, he hears a gunshot. Without turning around, he would bet a year's salary it's a perfect hit.
"How's it goin'?" Demo asks the Engineer, completely forgetting about his mental note.
"Hrm," Engie grunts.
Well that was weird. Demo steps over to the active dispenser in the corner, pulling up a chair to let it do its magic.
"Need help with anythin'?" He tries, aiming to start a little conversation.
"No," Engie replies shortly.
Okay, something's definitely up. Anxiously, Demo looks over at his side of the lab. No, all his chemicals are exactly where they should be: neatly labeled and securely stacked. What has he done now to get on the Texan's bad side?
"It's odd seeing you out here for the weekend." That's something the Engineer might not brush off.
Engie looks up. His goggles are blank and expressionless, bottomless inky pits in the dimly lit room.
"I could say the same to you," he says plainly.
Ice shoots through Demo's veins. Engie couldn't know about…could he?
Regardless, Demo no longer had the appetite for conversation. He sits in the dark basement no longer than necessary, escaping as soon as the dispenser has done its job.
Demo's sad to see the weekend go. It's much harder to sneak in make out sessions when they're spending the day killing REDs. He makes it all the way to Thursday, the first Grenades in two weeks he hasn't been dreading.
"A triple airshot! Can you believe it? And he just says 'vell, at least you got zem eventually.' Goddamned Kraut."
Soldier lowers his first, having been shaking it at the sky while ranting about the Medic.
"I think a triple airshot is very impressive," Demo says solemnly.
"No one likes a kiss-ass, Demo," Soldier grumbles, calming down for the first time that night.
Demo chuckles, nudging Soldier in the side.
"I just wish he wouldn't leave me when he thinks I cannot handle something," Soldier complains, going back to his earlier point. "He should have a little faith, not just run off like some scared turkey with a dentist appointment."
Demo's chuckle turns into a full-blown laugh, one that Soldier eventually joins in on. "Now there's an image," he says, picturing Medic with feathers flying out behind him. After a few moments, Demo pauses. "Actually, that reminds me o' somethin'. I almost forgot."
He begins to shuffle with something in his pocket, Soldier leaning over inquisitively to see what it might be. Eventually, he pulls out a little star chart, complete with annotations. He hands it to the Soldier.
It's detailed, white lines connecting the stars while grey ones paint pictures. On it, in an almost perfect forgery, are four stars connected with a fine white line. Soldier fingers it delicately, the paper unfolding under his touch.
"What is this?"
"That," Demo grins, "is Turcia. The first and only American constellation."
Removing a grey pen from his pocket, he carefully traces a turkey around the four stars while Soldier holds the chart in place. When he's done, the grandiose bird stands proudly on the page, a bit bolder than the constellations behind it.
"It's beautiful," Soldier says quietly.
When he looks at Demo, his eyes are a little wet.
Demo didn't expect that strong of a reaction. He blinks in suprsie.
"What's the matter, lad? Never gotten a present before?"
"No, it's just…" Soldier wipes the dampness from his eyes. "I say a lot of stupid things, I know. I…no one has ever really taken me seriously before."
"O' course I take you seriously." Demo places one hand on Soldier's back and the other on his hands. "I wasnae grandstandin' before when I said what you say is worthwhile. I think the world of you. Everythin' you say is important by simple virtue of you're the one sayin' it."
Soldier wipes at his eyes a bit harder and gives Demo a watery grin. "Thank you Demo." He pulls the Demoman into a hug, careful not to crush the star chart between them. Even after they break apart again, Demo keeps one arm wrapped around him, sitting with Soldier in companionable silence. He watches Soldier alternate between gazing at the stars and his little hand drawn turkey, and he knows he's done a good thing.
"You know," he says after a few minutes, "as much as I like all the kissin', I was beginin' tae miss this. You, me, just talkin' over a couple o' drinks. Nae a care in the world."
Soldier drops his head onto Demo's shoulder. "You make it sound like kissing is stressful," he laughs.
"Pssh no, o' course nae. Cannae be stressful when I'm so bloody good at it."
"Ha! You're not that great at it. I'm a much better kisser, private."
Demo pushes them apart so he could look at the shit-eating grin on Soldier's face. "That sound like a challenge, boyo. And a true Scotsman never backs down from a challenge."
"Well then you better start kissing me," Soldier says, moving up the edge of his helmet, "otherwise I'll start to think you're no true Scotsman."
Demo doesn't waste any time after that. He pushes his lips against Soldier's, deepening the kiss as soon Soldier responds. Soon, Soldier is flat on his back opening his mouth slightly, letting Demo push in with his tongue. Lying like this is dangerous as hell, a three-story drop only a few inches away, but that makes it all the more exciting. The kiss is almost playful, darting in and out of each other's mouth like a game of tag, learning when to tease and when to go in for the kill. The beer forgotten, they spend the rest of the night like that.
Finally, Demo helps Soldier to his feet when they declare it's time for bed. Soldier leans on him more than strictly necessary, they're not that drunk, but Demo doesn't care in the slightest. They make it to the stairs, the path long and narrow until it reaches a landing. It is at this landing where they run into the Spy.
Soldier jumps away immediately, confirming Demo's suspicions about not needing him.
"What are you doing here, crouton?" Soldier demands. "I didn't realize this was the frilly pantsuit convention."
Spy eyes Soldier blandly before addressing the both of them. "If you are trying to be subtle, I suggest not taking up espionage work. You were almost just discovered. If I had not been here, you would have walked directly into the Scout coming in from his midnight run."
A jolt of fear runs up the Demoman's spine. Soldier has different concerns.
"Watch were you throw your accusations, maggot! We were doing nothing but enjoying a manly drink on the roof."
Spy tilts his head. "You have a hickey."
Soldier snaps a hand over his neck, although on the opposite side of the developing bruise. He's already turned red as a beet when Demo butts in.
"Soldier, Spy knows. He's just tryin' tae help."
Soldier squirms for a few moments, deciding if he still has anything to fear. Eventually, his shoulders relax, and he gives Spy a judgmental eye instead of a murderous one.
"Thank you Spy," Demo says. "We'll be more careful next time."
"Then I suggest not leaving unfinished beer on the roof. If Sniper sees that, he may get suspicious."
Spy turns, pulling out his watch as he takes a few steps down the stairs. "You will not last long at this rate. I give you three weeks."
They wait in silence for the cigarette stink to disappear, Demo turning up the stairs to retrieve their forgotten case.
"Figures Frenchie would figure it out," Soldier says, trailing behind the Demoman.
"I know, I'm sorry, I'm the one who told him. But it's nae that bad, right? Spy's good at keepin' secrets, almost as good as he is stealin' 'em. And, as long as it's just the three of us that know, it's not that risky."
"Four," Soldier corrects, staring out forlornly over the desert landscape.
"Three," Demo repeats, knowing Soldier has difficulty with math sometimes.
Soldier shakes his head. "With Spy, that makes four."
Demo feels a tickle of apprehension at the base of his neck. "Soldier," he says carefully, "who exactly know about us?"
Soldier turns away from the edge of the roof, and counts them off on his fingers. "You, me, Spy, and Engie."
Demo nearly drops the beer. "The Engineer knows about us?"
"Oh. Yeah. Did I not tell you?"
"No you dinnae bloody tell me!"
Something is twisting in the pit of Demo's stomach. He remembers back to the past week, every stony glare, every curt dismissal, it all makes sense now. The Engineer knows. And he's pissed.
Soldier sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. "Well, I told him, but only sort of. Do you remember back when I said I needed to think about whether I liked you or not? Well I did, I thought really hard. But Grenades was coming up and I still wasn't sure so I had to ask someone who's smart for help. Engie's the smartest person I know, so I asked him what you should do if you're not sure if you like someone. He said you should kiss them, and then you would know. So I followed his advice, and it worked!"
Demo lets out a breath he hasn't realized he's been holding. "Alright, that's fine then. As long as he just knows that you were goin' tae kiss someone, that isnae so bad."
"Oh, no he knows it was you. And I told him all about the kiss afterwards too."
This time, Demo does drop the beer.
"He wanted to know how it went," Soldier continues, "and I was really excited about the kiss so I told him. It's okay: Engie's nice. He won't tell anybody."
Nice? Engie? Maybe that hometown southern gentleman façade convinced Soldier, but Demo certainly isn't fooled. The Texan has a psychotic streak a mile wide.
"Maybe he's nice tae you, but tae me…" Demo shudders, thinking about some of the things he's seen in that lab. He takes a breath, trying to look at the situation rationally. "Never mind. Unless he does somethin' about it, there's nothin' tae worry about. And he's the only one you told, so we should be fine."
"Yeah," Soldier agrees, bending down to help scrape up some of the broken beer bottles. Then he stops, remembering something suddenly. "Oh, and Pyro."
"Pyro?" Demo balks. "Pyro?"
He thinks if he has any more shocks tonight he's going to have a heart attack right here on the roof.
Soldier shrugs, lifting the case from the shell-shocked Demoman. "Yeah. Pyro hangs around the labs sometimes. I think they might have been in there when I told Engie."
"Pyro," Demo repeats. "Well that's just…great. Now there are five of us that know, more than half the team. Are there any other surprises you want tae lay on me tonight, Solly?"
Soldier puts a hand to his chin, and Demo thinks he's actually come up with another one. But then Soldier shakes his head, and Demo's shoulders sink in relief.
"I think that's all."
"Great. Fantastic. I'm goin' tae go to sleep and try 'n forget about me problems."
"Works for me," Soldier says, and follows him toward the staircase.
Demo is in bed, eye half closed, covers up to his chin, when he realizes something.
"Oooooh. 'Congratulations.' Now I get it."
