Whoops. Fixed the italics!

Enjoy the story, yo!

It was the blinding light of the afternoon sun that eventually woke Demoman from his alcoholic stupor. It burned into his eyeball like white-hot magnesium. He rolled onto his back with a groan. There was nothing like an afternoon hangover to greet you from your slumber.

"Aww, me bleeding ballsacks. Ah could puke me kidneys out."

True to his word, Demoman leaned to the side and expunged a truly remarkable amount of viscous vomit. After he gave a few more heaves and was sure that there wasn't a drop of bile left in his gut, he lay back down on the ground with a heavy thump.

His vision hadn't quite returned yet. Demoman would attribute this to his eye injury. Any correlation between heavy drinking and sight impairment had no scientific foundation, and you could smoke hairy horse balls if you suggested it.

He rubbed the crust out of his good eye. He was all too familiar with the process. It took a few minutes to remember who he was, then where he was, and lastly, why he was there. He was usually good to go after he cleared up those minor details.

He surveyed his surroundings. There was a high wooden ceiling above him with long oak rafters. When he turned his head away from the puddle of vomit he could smell the earthy scent of hay.

Well, now he knew where he was. For whatever reason he had passed out in the hayloft that was built into the side of the RED base. He gurgled some incomprehensible expletives and hoisted himself into an upright position. The room span with his movement and despite recently voiding it, his stomached lurched.

His memory was a blurry haze. He could vaguely remember that he had a job to do. It could have been an important job, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Demoman had bigger problems right now, and that was getting down the ladder that led to the ground level of the barn.

When he took his first few wobbling steps he knew that something wasn't quite right. He couldn't feel the comforting weight of his flak jacket on his chest and his feet were missing his well-worn steel capped boots. He blearily looked down and squinted, trying to gain some focus on what he was seeing. He was wearing some kind of puffy white material. That was all he could determine at this point in time, so he made the executive decision to deal with it later.

He managed to take shaky steps down the ladder, and when he reached the ground level he had to lean against the wall to take a recovery break. Inebriation had the uncanny ability to reduce a grown man's motor skills to that of an infant.

Demoman turned to face the wall. Nature was calling and finding a bathroom was beyond anything he could achieve now. He managed to hoist the white fabric up around his hairy thighs to relieve himself against the wall.

"Ahhh, tha's heaven!"

Lost in the bliss of urination, he was more than a little perturbed to have the moment interrupted by a blaring voice. It pierced his skull like a sniper's bullet.

"If it isn't sleeping beauty coming out of her magical princess slumber. Well it's WAKEY WAKEY time maggot!"

Demoman clutched at his head and tried to keep his brains from leaking out his ears. "Keep yer fookin' voice down! I can hardly hear me'self piss."

"What's that? You don't like the sound of my voice? Well you know what I don't like the sound of, private? Members of my infantry deciding to go AWOL! And for the love of Jesus, Mary and Joseph, put that thing away!"

Demoman looked down drowsily and realized he still had his limp cock in hand. He gave himself a few shakes and attempted to tuck himself away. He was puzzled to discover the zip to his fly missing. In fact, his pants themselves had mysteriously vanished. Demoman shrugged and just let the white material drop back down by his ankles. Once again, a conundrum he would solve later. "What're ye going on aboot? Yer ravin' like a loon"

All the yelling could not have avoided drawing attention. Medic ducked his head in to see what all the commotion was about. He had to do a double take, and then pressed a gloved hand to his mouth to cover his grin.

"Ah! Demo. Some members of our team vere taking bets on vhen you would awake. I guess I owe Herr Sniper twenty dollars. Disappointing."

"Awake?" Demoman swirled the word around. His mouth tasted like whiskey and compost. "How long have ah been out of it?"

"Vell, let's see, you have been catatonic now for nearly…" Medic looked at his watch, "two days. Once again you impress me with your inhuman ability to abuse yourself. I would give you a physical to assess ze damage, but regrettably I am running low on fresh gloves."

Demoman steadied his swaying by leaning against the wall. "Yer pullin' me leg. If I were out fer two day ah'd think ah would remember it."

"You want to know who remembers it?" Asked Soldier, brandishing his shovel. "ME! You have missed not one but TWO scheduled battles. This is a punishable offence!"

Demoman belched and took an unsteady step towards the pair. "And whatcher goin' tae do? Dress me up as a lassie? I'll cut me own head off before ye can even try."

Soldier and Medic paused to look at each other.

It was Medic who took on the job of breaking the bad news. He cleared his throat before he tentatively addressed Demoman. "I am afraid Soldier has already taken ze liberty. Do not ask me why he wanted to."

"Wha?"

Soldier was unapologetic. "You were not in a coherent state to satisfactorily dress yourself. I had to take the initiative!"

"Err, perhaps you should find yourself a mirror, Demoman. My descriptions could not prepare you."

The weary Scot eyed them suspiciously. Even with a monster of a hangover he still had the instinct to detect treachery. He even considered punching Soldier in the face to cover his bases. Even if Medic's claims of his unsolicited change in attire proved to be false, it would still be satisfying.

It was Demoman's pounding head and parched throat that eventually proved to be the decider. The small amount of energy he had produced to be outraged blew from his sails. He just couldn't care right now. "Ah fook it." He sighed, and pushed his way past the men. "I can take what ye' throw at me. Get out ah' me way."

Soldier and Medic watched Demoman wander back to the base fully aware of what would be in store for him.

Medic called out to him. "I varn you Demo, zhis is more zhan an ordinary man can tolerate."

Either Demoman didn't hear him or didn't care. He wandered away until he was out of sight. The train of his dress dragged in the dirt behind him.

Medic sighed. "Soldier, vhat even goes on in your head?"

"It's called tactical humiliation, Fritz. Look it up!"

Medic wasn't wrong. The laughter from the men reached a deafening level, which really wasn't helping Demoman's hangover.

"Oh look fellas! It's the bride to be. Shoulda kept the veil over her face."

"Groom has not arrived. This is not big surprise."

"You'll be walkin' the aisle a long time mate. Hope ya didn't put a deposit on the honeymoon."

Even Pyro joined in by humming a very muffled rendition of the wedding march.

Demoman had to hold up the bunched material to walk properly. He gracelessly strode past their jeering, making a beeline for the bathroom. He was just about ready to puke again, and this time he couldn't be sure if it was the hangover or the humiliation.

Bursting into the cool tiled room, he lunged for the sink and turned the faucet on full-bore. He drenched his face in the water and relished in its cleansing coldness. When he was satisfied, he turned off the taps and drew attention to the sorry reflection staring back at him.

The first thing he noticed was the now wet white veil pinned to his woolly hair. Tiny white pearls rimmed the tulle, following its length down the back oh his head. He blinked in surprise. This was not what he had been expecting.

The shock of the water and enough time between drinks had cleared Demoman's vision. He looked south to survey the damage.

"Aww nooo." He groaned. It was far worse than he could have ever imagined. The eggshell white of the dress was shockingly bright against his dark skin. The tight strapless upper half fit snugly against his abdomen. Garish rhinestones were sewn into the satin, subtracting from the elegance of the dress. Thick black chest hair cresting over the top of the v-cut was probably not what the designer had intended.

He placed his hands at his waist where the tightly fitted corset met an explosion of fabric. Layers upon layers of under-tulle and shiny satin made the whole outfit resemble a fluffy meringue. Demoman hadn't been to many weddings, but even he knew this was a tasteless dress. No self-respecting bride would tie the knot wearing this thing.

A snooty French voice startled him from his thoughts.

Spy leaned against the far wall, smoking and smirking." I do not like to break a woman's heart, but désolé, I am not ze type of man who can commit."

"Fook off ye ratbag. I don't have time for ye."

"Now, now. I do not expect such language from a blushing virgin bride."

"Ye ever been hit by ah bride?" He balled his hands into fists. "Ah'm ready fer it!"

Spy flicked his spent cigarette butt away. "Oui, once. But that is another story."

Demoman eyed Spy warily. To say that he was edge today would be an understatement.

If Spy was intimidated, he didn't show it. He approached Demoman and trailed his gloved hand down the front of the dress. He tapped his finger on one of the oversized rhinestones and sighed in disapproval. "I did think Soldier could do better than this. His recent dress choices 'ave been so on ze mark."

Demoman pulled away from Spy, his good eye shooting darts at the Frenchman. "An jus' what is tha' suppose tae mean?"

Spy stepped back and brushed some lint off his tie. "I see you 'ave not noticed. I shall explain. Soldier has been quite clever choosing costumes that will cause us ze greatest 'umiliation. For example, our good Doctor could not bear dressing down as a lowly nurse."

"Do ye have a point?"

"I 'appen to know that you are a bachelor, Demoman. You 'ave not once been married, if your company records are anything to trust."

Demoman didn't like where this was going. "Aye, what aboot it?"

"Does this not strike you as unusual? Unless, perhaps…"

"Jus' bloody spit it out!"

"Perhaps that is ze point. After all, who would want to marry a black, Scottish cyclops with a drinking problem?

Demoman took a swing at the Spy. His motor coordination was still impaired and so he miscalculated the distance between Spy's face and his fist. Spy stepped nimbly out of the way, which caused Demoman to lose his balance and crash to the ground. He lay there in a daze, his ego bruised and battered.

"Well, I bid you adieu. Do not feel too bad, it is nothing a drink can't help you forget!"

Spy could never just walk out the door. He dematerialized in a cloud of smoke, leaving Demoman alone and sprawled out across the cold tiled floor, marinating in his own misery.

That night Demoman didn't join the team for dinner.

Scout was the first to delicately point out his absence. "Yo, anyone seen bridezilla? I have some rice to throw at him."

Medic sniffed as he cut into his steak. "I expect he has passed out again somewhere. Perhaps he will die from organ failure. Check ze respawn room in ze morning."

Sniper chewed on his food thoughtfully. "Seein' him dressed up like that reminded me of me first wife. Crikey. Don't accept contract work in Vegas, that's all I'm saying."

Engineer looked across the table at Spy, who had been awfully quiet. He knew the man well enough now to recognize that smug expression. "Spah, why do I think you have somethin' to do with this? What did you say to him?"

Spy pressed a hand to his chest pretending to be hurt. "Moi? I did nothing at all. Why ze accusations laborer?"

"Cause I've seen rattlesnakes that looked more innocent." Engineer pushed his plate away. He stood up and looked down at the Frenchman. "A man has his limits. I don't expect any of you fellas understand that. I ought to go find him before he gets himself into a bigger mess."

As the team watched Engineer leave, Medic called out after the Texan. "I have plans tonight. If he is dead, leave him at my door. I vill deal vith it tomorrow."

It took some searching before Engineer finally found Demoman. He had managed to climb up onto the roof of the building, dress and all, and was now looking mournfully out across the compound that joined the RED and BLU bases.

"Howdy there," Said Engineer gently, as he climbed up to join Demoman. "Everything alright partner?"

Demoman didn't look at Engineer. He took a long swig from his scrumpy bottle and continued to stare out at the view. "Fook off."

"Now, now." Engineer held his hands up defensively. "I ain't here to pick on you. I'm only here to talk. Just lay out your troubles, I'll listen."

Demoman was quiet. The distant sound of crickets filled in the long silence between them. Finally Demoman sighed and turned his head to look at Engineer. His lone eye glistened. "Ye ever been married?"

"Sure have. In fact, it'll be ten years this month."

Demoman was silent again and then asked, "wha's it like?"

Engineer ruminated over the question. "Well, it's got its ups and downs. Mind you I'm away most'a the time. She don't take too kindly to that. But at the end of the day, I wouldn't want anything else."

Demoman took another swig and then offered the bottle to Engineer, who hesitantly accepted and took a small sip of his own. "So that's what's on your mind?"

"Spy was right. Ah'm a freak o' nature. Who'd want me?"

"Hey now!" Engineer suddenly realized how emotionally fragile the Scotsman was. Engineer wasn't exactly an expert of dealing with these situations and he was starting to regret his decision to come up here. "I can bet you a thousand sapped sentries that ain't true. Don't listen to that good-for-nothing Spah. You know he likes to rile people up."

Demoman gave a few wet sniffs before he pulled up his dress and blew his nose loudly on the hem of it. "Everyone else is settlin' down. Havin' bairns. Bein' happy. The people ah get close to usually end up blown tae bits."

"Being married don't always mean you're happy. I mean, look at the Doc." Engineer frowned as he thought about it. "In fact, didn't I hear it was you having it off with his wife?

"Ahh, now yer jus' tryin' tae cheer me up." Demoman took a longer, deeper swig of his scrumpy. The alcohol was taking a hold of his mind.

"I'm sure on our next service leave you'll find a sweetheart. Spah's just a lonely man who has to take it out on the rest of us."

Demoman breathed in. Some of his former vigor was returning to him. "Ye right! I should'nae even given him two cents. He's ah piece'a cocklicking frog shite."

Engineer breathed a sigh of relief, happy that the crisis had been adverted. When he finally allowed himself to relax, he was unexpectedly caught in a tight embrace with Demoman.

"Yer a blessin', Engie." Slurred Demoman as he squeezed the Texan tighter.

"Hey," Said Engineer nervously. "I do what I can." When he smelled the potency of Demoman's breath, he knew he had greatly miscalculated how drunk the man was. He patted a hand on Demo's back and tried to pull away. He was only drawn in tighter.

"Ah, should give ye somethin' for bein' so kind."

"No. You shouldn't. That really ain't necessary!"

Engineer's pleas fell on deaf ears. Before he knew it, Demoman was peppering his face with sloppy kisses.

"Ah fookin' luv ya." He muttered drunkenly.

It was only until Demoman began to fiddle with the belt of his pants that Engineer really began to panic.

"Whoa! Slow down cowboy! This ain't right."

Demoman was now pressing his weight down on Engineer, hands and lips were everywhere. Engineer wondered how far he could let this go until he had to get violent. Fortunately, the problem was solved when Demoman man slumped against him, motionless.

Engineer looked at his assailant in bewilderment. He gave the man a shark poke in the side to see if he could get a reaction. Nothing.

"Well if this ain't a situation." He pulled himself out from under the unconscious man, recovering from his slight shock. Demoman was sprawled out on the roof tiles in his white dress, snoring like a bullhorn.

Engineer considered leaving him there. Molestation wasn't something he appreciated. If he could spend two days passed out in a barn he could handle night on the roof.

Eventually his soft heart won out. He bundled the lifeless Scotsman in his arms, bridle style and groaned with the effort. Demoman weighed more than any self-respecting bride should.

He managed to get downstairs, and had the misfortune of bumping into Scout on his journey to Demoman's bedroom.

"If it isn't the happy couple. You fellas on your honeymoon? Don't break the bed."

Somehow, Demoman didn't feel so heavy when throwing him at loudmouth Scouts.