AN: Part 2 of "Still Human". Part 1 is "Staying with the Doctor". Be sure to read that first.
"Are you freakin' kidding me?!" Scout gestured wildly, a dramatic show of exasperation on his features. "I dunno what to say, boy." Engineer shrugged in response, his voice flat. "I would think y'alls housing concern is just a bit more important than your need for exercise."
It had been approximately a week since the incident with the RED Demo - just a few days into the ceasefire - and Scout was getting bored. Through the second-floor window of the base, he could see, and hear, the downpour of heavy rainfall.
It was rare for the area to have such bad weather - even rarer that a heavy storm like this had persisted for so long. For the last 3 days, it had been pouring in the badlands.
Scout groaned loudly. He didn't usually think about, or even believe in religion - but right now he sincerely felt like the man upstairs was out to get him. Especially during the past week.
It all started with a dispute he had no say in - his room suffered blast damage from multiple sticky bombs during a fight, just because his room was beside Soldier's. In one evening, Scout lost his room, several of his prized belongings, and now it was raining so hard that he couldn't even go outside for a run. Without being able to vent his frustrations or spend his energy through exercise, Scout was getting agitated. This was just not fair.
"Well boy," Engineer folded his arms. "Mulling over this ain't gonna help. I say you go find yourself something to do - cause we ain't fighting 'till we get this building fixed. Now get." He motioned lazily towards the door. "I ain't here to babysit ya, I already got another big baby on my hands."
Huffing briefly, Scout begrudgingly turned to the door. Engineer wasn't in the best of moods himself - especially since he had begun housing the estranged Soldier in his own quarters.
Shuffling down the hallway with his hands buried deep into his pant pockets, Scout contemplated on what he should do next. He had already gone to (and had been subsequently kicked out of) most of his teammates quarters, after talking their ear off for (what felt like) barely a minute. He supposed he could find a couch to sleep on - but he was definitely not tired enough to take a nap. His daily diet of 12 over-caffeinated Bonk cans did not help his case in the slightest.
There was just nothing interesting he could spend his time on. He had already read and re-read all the magazines, comic books, and even newspaper comic-strip sections he could get his hands on. Supply deliveries were running late in general due to the heavy storm, and he had exhausted all his current forms of entertainment. Life in detainment was so boring - he had even considered picking up one of Medic's fancy doctor books. Not like he would understand a word that was written there - he was more in it for the pictures of body parts and stuff.
Briefly, his trailing feet stopped in their tracks. In quiet emergencies like these - he might even have to resolve to spend time by thinking.
He shuddered. Grimacing as he noticed his own lack of movement, he picked up his pace as he marched aimlessly across the hall.
Thinking wasn't his strong suit. Sure, he knew he was clever, handsome, and quick on his feet when it came to it - but spending time to think? Actually taking the time outta your day to reflect on memories and emotions? Even the idea of that never sat right with him.
He was a strong guy. And strong guys don't mull over weak things like emotions… right?
Yeah. He nodded, to nobody in particular. Right.
"Aye! Scout!"
Scout looked up from the ground, immediately snapping out of his own thoughts.
Down the hall, one of the dorm doors had been swung open, revealing the Demoman looking at Scout from within the room he was in. His hand up in greeting, Demo eyed Scout with a chipper, yet somehow concerned expression. "You okay there lad?" He asked, training an attentive eye on the young man.
"Uh - yeah. I mean," Scout grinned sheepishly as he averted Demo's direct gaze. "Pshh, yeah, there ain't nothin' wrong with me. Definitely ain't doin' any thinkin', if that's what you're thinkin'. Cause I definitely didn't think. Uh, in fact, I can't think." He could feel a panicked fluster creeping across his face as the words tumbled out of his mouth faster than Sascha's bullets. "I am literally incapable of thought. So don't think I'm thinkin'... cause, uh, I'm not."
Demo looked on at the odd spectacle, his expression twisted in a mix of a bemused grin and a concerned grimace. As he tilted his head to look Scout in the eye, he clearly noted that something was very off with the boy today. "...I don't nae what you're going on about, but it's not a sin to sit and think from time to time." He shrugged, an amiable smile still on his face. "Come lad, I think you're in need of a drink."
Scout looked up from the ground, obvious surprise overcoming him. "I- me?" He pointed at himself in disbelief. "...Are ya actually offerin' me a drink?"
Demo shrugged. "Well ya clearly need it." He said plainly. "Look at the state of yourself. Somethin' or another's on your mind, lad. Anyone could tell."
Scout's lips tightened into a thin, almost invisible line, as his face burned beet red. There was no way in hell Demo could be this observant, or generous with his alcohol… Unless…
"Demo," Scout pointed at him incredulously. "...Are you sober?"
"Aye?" Demo responded plainly as he crossed his arms. "Don't tell me ya thought I was drunk?"
As he slowly lowered his pointing index finger, Scout didn't respond. Had he been in any other situation - he would've jumped on Demo's offer immediately, taking the offer for a drink without question or thought. He'd always wondered how strong Demo's scrumpy was - the other guys in the base barely even let him touch a beer. It was a running gag for them to treat him like a kid - and he played along with it for the most part. Despite being of legal age to drink, and despite having experienced alcohol long before recruitment, he didn't bother to rebel against the team, and their little joke.
Although he would never admit to it, he kinda liked the "kid" treatment. In a weird way, it felt like he was a kid surrounded by his eight older brothers again - except, slightly better brothers that didn't try to beat you up at every given opportunity.
For the first time, Scout was at a loss for words. Having a drink offered to him - especially by Demo, the legend that lived and breathed alcohol so strong it could kill even an Australian liver in seconds - that wasn't one of the things he had expected from a shitty, rainy, quiet day like this.
"...Lad, sometimes it's easier ta admit that you feel." Demo said gently. "Alcohol helps with that. And I can see that you need it now."
For a brief second, Scout averted his eyes. He didn't like being worried about like this. It made him feel...bad. He didn't really know how to explain it. He just knew that he didn't like feeling like this.
Straightening his back and huffing his chest in an attempt to feign normalcy, he boasted a cocky, overzealous grin. "I got no idea whatcha talkin' about Demo, but I'll take that Scrumpy off ya hands if you want me to that badly."
A moment of awkward silence passed between the two, before Demo smiled, shaking his head. "Come in then."
Scout stepped cautiously, tentatively into his Demo's room. He didn't want to admit this - but it was his first time stepping foot in there. They weren't especially close - Demo hung out with Pyro and maybe Heavy, but often kept to himself during ceasefire. The trio would talk about fancy stuff like Tips on Raising a Healthy Devilspawn, or Ancient European Literature - whatever the hell either of that meant.
In his room, the walls were adorned by tapestries, a collection of various hanging swords, and a surprisingly large bookshelf filled with old-looking books. A low, round table sat squarely in the center of the room, surrounded by cushions that he presumed was in the place of chairs. The room smelled faintly like some sort of incense - a foreign scent that the Scout couldn't quite place the origin of. Taking the foreign sight in, Scout slowly sat down on one of the cushions by the table.
Demo took some time to pick out two bottles of what looked both like Scrumpy (it wasn't like Scout could tell the difference anyways) and one tiny shot glass, setting them all on the table.
"Uh," Scout gestured questioningly at the shot glass. "I thought you were treatin' me to a drink."
"I am." Demo responded evenly as he poured a tiny amount of alcohol into the glass. "I'm just making sure ya don't die."
Scout grumbled, pretending to be disappointed. In reality, he was secretly relieved. He didn't want to do, or say anything stupid under the influence - and he especially didn't want to get blackout drunk. Not in front of one of his teammates, at least.
Not in front of someone he thought might actually listen.
"There." Demo said as he gingerly set the glass down in front of Scout. "Drink."
Scout glanced at the shot glass, then looked back up at Demo. Demo sat across from him on the table, leisurely opening a second bottle of Scrumpy for his own consumption.
Catching Scout's hesitant gaze, Demo shrugged nonchalantly. "Ya don't have to drink if ya don't wannae, lad. T'is just an offer, nobody's forcin' ya ta drink."
Scout grimaced for a brief moment - before forcing his expression to resemble something that he thought expressed enthusiasm. "C'mon Demo, I ain't no chicken." He quickly grabbed the shot glass, bracing himself as he let the alcohol into his mouth.
He almost gagged as it reached his throat - the burning of the alcohol was stronger than anything he had previously experienced. But once it was down, and his reflexes to throw up the foreign liquid subsided, he glanced back up at Demo, grinning victoriously. "...That wasn't too bad."
"You were writhing in pain, lad." Demo responded monotonously. "Now, ta the important part."
Demo took a brief swig of his own bottle, before setting it aside on the table. "So, how's your week been?"
Scout blinked, his previously pursed lips curving into a very thin smile. He wasn't expecting that question - and somehow that unexpectedness was enough to entertain him.
"Uh, my week? My week's been great - obviously." He pointed to his chest. "I'm doing absolutely fan-fucking-tastic - no work to do, no chumps to kill... I've just been lazing around and reading comics all day. You know, the dream life, amiright?"
The warmth he felt in his throat had slowly reached across his face as he spoke, eventually covering his whole body. He felt, good. Happy, even. For the first time in a few days, Scout felt like he could escape his own problems.
Words tumbled out of Scout's mouth, as Demo sat across from him, listening quietly.
Huh. Scout thought to himself, as the warm buzz consumed him. Who'da thought.
It actually felt...nice, to be listened to.
As words slurred together and jumbled in Scout's mouth, Demo continued to listen attentively. Every so often he would interject in Scout's monologue, giving his own opinion or point of view on the matter. But whenever Demo wanted to say his part - he didn't interrupt Scout, waiting for a lull in the conversation so he could say his piece.
Scout didn't really know what he was saying anymore - he didn't really know if his own words made sense. But what did that matter? Someone was actually listening. Like, really listening to him. He jumped from topics of the weather, to baseball, to some comic series he had a particular, special interest in ( Captain Australia is so cool! ) - blathering non-stop about interests and hobbies that made him happy, although it often turned his other friends away.
And through all of that, Demo was somehow able to catch up. He was able to understand him, and listen.
And it felt nice. It felt amazing actually, to be heard for once.
Although he kind of blacked out towards the end - he was reminded, for the first time in a long time - what it really meant to be happy.
~oOo~
"Demo..." Medic muttered through gritted teeth, as he massaged his temples. "You should have known better zhan to give Scout the Scrumpy."
"Aye, sorry Doc." Demo grinned sheepishly, averting his gaze from the angry Medic. "Ta be honest...I did nae think the lad would black out this quickly."
Slung on Demoman's shoulder was an unconscious Scout - somehow still muttering unintelligible words in his drunken stupor. Demo had burst into the infirmary without so much as knocking, panicking that he had given Scout "just a teeny bit of Scrumpy, I swear".
Irritated at the fact that the Demo thought to offer any Scrumpy to the boy at all (despite the countless times he had warned Demo that Scrumpy was significantly more potent than rubbing alcohol) Medic sighed sharply. He didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. He had to treat Scout.
This is an actual medical emergency, he reasoned with himself. I do not feel liable for the Scout's wellbeing. And if I do, it is because he is my roommate. That's it.
"Alright," Medic rolled his eyes in defeat. "Follow me, I vill examine him in zhe infirmary."
As Demo laid Scout on the infirmary bed as gently as he could, Medic got to work. Standing on the sidelines, Demo stood looking on at the unconscious boy with his arms folded anxiously, an unusual expression of concern etched on his usually jovial face.
"Vat." Medic said flatly. "Demo, I vill handle zis. You may leave."
"Aye..." Demo faltered. "It's just that the Scout said some things that are a bit… concernin' ta me."
Medic grimaced, almost reflexively. "...And vat did he say, zat vould concern you so much?"
Demo briefly gazed at the unconscious Scout, before meeting with the Medic's gaze. "...I'm sorry man, I can't tell ya." Demo shook his head apologetically. "It goes against ma' own morals to tell ya. What happens through the bottle, stays with the bottle."
Medic's scowl deepened as he rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to scold the Demo.
"...Fine," He exhaled sharply. "Now get out, I do not vant you to stand around if you cannot be of help."
Begrudgingly, Demo stepped away from the infirmary bed, looking behind him in concern as he left the infirmary.
Irritated and now frustrated that the Demo would bring up such a useless topic, Medic not-so-gently stabbed the unconscious Scout's arms with needles, preparing the IV to be injected. He needed to clear out the boy's bloodstream of alcohol - the boy would likely recover a few days down the line, but not without massive headaches.
Serves the boy right. Medic mulled to himself. I thought he would know better than to accept a drink from the Demoman.
For a brief moment, his swift fingers slowed to a pause.
Scout said some things that are a bit… concernin' ta me.
What could cause such a concern in the Scout's behaviour?
I'm sorry man, I can't tell ya.
Something even the Demo would refuse to tell me?
Catching himself in a pause, the Doctor shook his head, internally scolding himself. As he continued his treatment on the boy, he couldn't help but linger on those words.
After staying awake beside the sleeping boy - the Medic had grown, although he hated to admit - rather comfortable, with the Scout's presence.
Listening the boy murmur about (often) nonsensical gibberish in his sleep, had an odd calming effect on the Medic. The boy was annoying as any sane human could get in the day - but at night…
At night, the Medic had seen how vulnerable the Scout could be.
As he mindlessly went about his task, the medic let his mind wander.
There was something about being with the Scout like that. About seeing the boy like that. Something that made him fall asleep faster - something, that made him feel safer.
Maybe it was the boy's warmth, radiating off of the Scout's body onto his own. Maybe it was his quiet breaths as he slept, the sight of his chest heaving gently below his shirt. Many times Medic had looked on quietly as the boy slept, resisting the urge to move, to wake him with his movements…to touch him. To place his hand on the boy's chest, and feel his heart beat.
There was an odd curiosity behind seeing the Scout so quiet like that - to see the boy still as he slept, not speaking, not moving - but very much alive. He supposed it was akin to a morbid curiosity of sorts - the kind where you would want to investigate something because it feels so foreign, so… unnatural.
For a brief moment, he paused.
No, unnatural is not the right word. The Medic shook his head, momentarily confused by his own thoughts.
Everyone on his team - everyone the Medic had worked with - he considered as a caricature. Co-workers to socialize with, patients in need - or mere test subjects. Whatever caricature he thought fit best at the moment. That is what is truly unnatural, is it not?
Unknown to himself, the Medic's frown grew a bit deeper.
The Scout… the Scout is a boy. A multi-faceted, human. A young man with a complex past - a person with secrets of his own. Someone who is annoying at times. Someone who is absolutely unbearable, loud, obnoxious… and yet someone the Medic felt an odd closeness to.
Someone…like himself.
The Medic pursed his lips as he gazed on the unconscious Scout.
There was something so strange about seeing the boy like this. Something strange about seeing the boy sleep - seeing the troubled young man at peace. He wanted to know more about the boy. He wanted to see all the faces the Scout hid behind his own facade - his past, his secrets - his life.
Maybe, The Medic's eyes softened, as he reached out to the sleeping boy. Maybe, just this once…
As the Medic's fingers lightly grazed the skin of the Scout's cheek, he caught himself, jerking his hand back with a start. The mere touch of the boy's skin lasted on his fingertips, evoking an emotion - a sensation in the Medic that he was too scared to address.
Ashamed, embarrassed, and scared of his own impulses, he ripped his gaze away from the Scout.
The procedure was finished. He did not need to tamper with the subject any further.