Chapter 1: Catch
Gossip is sometimes too funny not to indulge in
Spy breathed in.
The dusty, musty air of another day filled his lungs, along with the toxic smoke of his imported cigarette. The monotonous look of the expansive Badlands was a look Spy wouldn’t lose sleep over if he never saw it again. Sand, dirt, and more sand was all he could see through the tiny window next to the supply cabinet. Not his favorite landscape in the world, not by far.
Spy breathed out.
His imported cigarettes were one of the few pleasures he had in this wasteland. Simple, perfected, and with a slight berry flavor lingering on his tongue. He had one hanging off his lip starting from when he got out of bed in the morning until he laid his head down once more at night. The monthly shipments the base got of American cigarettes couldn’t hold a candle to his imports.
Spy breathed in.
Sure, they were toxic. Sure, they were slowly killing him. Spy wasn’t an idiot to the dangers of smoking, judging by his team doctor’s consistent nagging. No one listened to that prude at this point- men who were immune to the threat of death had no reason to worry about such things as the apparent dangers of a good cigarette.
Spy breathed out.
A puff of smoke was blown into the air as he glanced up at the wall clock nearby. Five minutes until the match. That meant five minutes for Spy to watch his team climb into their clunky gear within the locker room. Within a sea of dirty blue uniforms, Spy was glad he looked the best. For the time being, he leaned against the supply cabinet and enjoyed his little rolled-up bit of pleasure as he eavesdropped on a nearby conversation.
“By da way,” his team’s Scout said as he tied his cleats on the bench, “Nice shot on da Medic yesterday, durin’ Overtime.”
“Ah, ‘t’s nothing,” Sniper huffed, polishing the end of his kukri with his shirt and shaking his head, “Creepy bastard’s always giving me the creeps. Something ain’t right with him, that one.”
“Ugh, I know! He’s always goin’ out into battle wit’ a smile on his face.”
“Probably gets off on killin’. Like that bloke Nelly Bates- whatever his name was.”
“I dunno if I’d go dat far,” Scout grimaced, “Gross. And it’s Norman Bates, genius.”
“Wot?” Sniper replied, smirking and getting close to Scout, gripping his shoulders as his fingers crawled up the bony limbs,” ‘fraid mean ol’ RED Medic is gonna pop a boner as he saws your arm off? Maybe get down ‘n dirty with your defenseless, twinkish corpse?”
“Ew, ew, no!” Scout yelped, punching Sniper in the ribs but with a chuckle (albeit a nervous one), “C’mon, man, now you’re just trynna scare me.”
Sniper snickered at his successful scare as he and Scout began to walk towards the gates, shoulders a bit more tense. Spy rolled his eyes and took a long drag of his cigarette. Sometimes he felt like he was stuck in a group of children instead of professional, adult mercenaries. The constant banter and playfulness was another thing Spy could live without.
Then again, he heard the rumors of the RED Medic before- they all have. Spy only ever encountered the tall, well-built older man only from the perspective of a freshly-stabbed back. Sure, he had a twisted laughter when he puppeteers someone into a successful uber push, but a necrophile? Naturally, Spy had his doubts; it wouldn’t be the first time those ruffians spun tall tales about the other team in the name of sportsmanship.
“What’re you dreaming about, frog?” a voice pulled Spy back into reality. Unsurprisingly, it was Soldier, in his face and barking about his nationality as usual.
“’ow much I’m ready to leave this awful country once my contract is done,” Spy hissed back, “You’re a sore sight for old eyes, yet ‘ere you are, still in my face.”
“Watch it, Frenchie,” Soldier growled, grabbing a fistful of Spy’s shirt collar. In response, Spy blew a hefty cloud of smoke into directly Soldier’s face and rolled his eyes to emphasize his defiance. This only made Soldier’s nostrils flare more, and he lifted his fist to wail down on Spy. Though before he come get a shiny black eye, the loudspeakers crackled to life.
Mission begins in sixty seconds.
Soldier scowled at the speaker above their heads and lowered his fist, then turning his attention back to Spy. He dropped the skinny man with rough reluctance. “You’re lucky the voice of God saved you today,” he grumbled before stomping off to be first out of the gates.
Spy straightened his suit and took a deep breath. He can’t let that simpleton get to him. He was all bark and no bite, especially since he declared war on the enemy Demoman. While their feud did give the rest of BLU a break from Soldier’s constant attention, it made him harder to be around when he was in the room due to his newfound temper. Hopefully Soldier was stupid enough to forget about losing his butt buddy soon enough.
With his revolver loaded and his previous cigarette stamped out on the floor below him, Spy readied to head out the gates. If he played his cards right, he could use one of the vents to the right of the initial room to get behind the enemy team and take out their sniper. His task after that was dealing with the Engineer, who somehow never learned that putting his sentry in the same place every day just made it easier and easier for Spy to reach him. Though Spy had to admit, he was getting faster with that wrench for a pudgy man like himself.
5… 4… 3… 2… 1.
Sirens blared in Spy’s ears- a sound he had long since grown numb to since he began working for BLU. Whatever his team mates were doing as their plan of action, Spy couldn’t care less about. He sprinted as fast as his suit and dress shoes could take him on his chicken legs to the right vent. Within seconds, he popped the screws off and dove inside, shutting the gate behind himself.
One uncomfortable and very, very dirty vent shimmy later and Spy had arrived at a similar vent near RED spawn. The cobwebs and dust made Spy’s skin crawl at how much he was ruining a good suit. Luckily, respawn took care of general ruffage, though Spy still detested the ordeal of the journey.
He snuck through the hallways of the long since abandoned powerhouse, staying in the shadows and keeping a keen ear for any enemies. However, today proved to be much more difficult to do just that. The sun was intense and rose over the battleground perfectly that it filtered through the massive windows just the right way, keeping shadows minimal. Nothing an expert assassin couldn’t handle.
His escapades finally came to a halt when he found himself reaching the sniper’s nest in no time. There was no use trying to disguise himself- RED’s Sniper wasn’t the best at listening for the sound of a disguise just yet. Plus, the poor fool was completely alone, leaving just him and Spy. Spy tiptoed forward as he twirled his balisong in his right hand, a smirk growing on his lips.
“Surprise,” Spy whispered in the man’s ear, like the husky voice of a lover. Though the only thing lovely about this scenario was Spy drinking in the sweet scream as he punctured the man’s lungs from behind. He lit himself a fresh cigarette as he pushed the man’s body out the window. Now that was a sound Spy would surely miss if he had to live without.
Despite its sweetness, the moment was brief, as it was cut short by the sound of voices and stomping nearby, and approaching rapidly. Spy froze, nearly biting his cigarette in half. It was the distinct rumble of the enemy Heavy’s booming voice, making itself heard from outside the nest.
“I heard scream. Over here, doktor.”
“Heavy, don’t just- ach, vait for me!”
Heavy and Medic, both in their crimson uniforms, barged into the sniper nest, bonesaws raised and miniguns whirring. They cautiously looked around the room, backs to each other. Heavy took a few steps forward before his foot knocked into an unused jar of Jarate lying on the ground. His jaw stiffened, and he turned back to Medic.
“We have Spy,” he stated.
Medic rolled his eyes. “Ja, really?” he snapped, “I didn’t notice.”
“How did he get here so fast?” Heavy pondered, internally rubbing his chin as Sasha preoccupied his physical ones, “Match just started.”
“Who cares about vhere he came from?” Medic retorted, “Ve have a Spy, and zhere’s no doubt he’s going for zhe Engineer next.”
“Then we catch up to Spy,” Heavy confirmed, nodding with determination, “And we kill Spy. Cannot be far ahead. We will take West corridor to catch up.”
“Zhat’s zhe plan,” Medic agreed, flashing a smile back. He was the first to turn on his heel and exit the room, leaving Heavy to follow.
Only Heavy never did follow Medic out the door. Luckily, despite them being skilled killing machines, neither bothered to check the area to the immediate right of the door for a cloaked Spy. Spy even snuffed out his cigarette as he cloaked to prevent the two from catching him. Ignoring the pounding of his heart in his ears, he got behind Heavy and brought one hand around the giant’s mouth as the other stabbed him in the back.
While Heavy’s screams never reached Medic, the older man definitely heard Heavy’s massive body topple over like a fallen tree. Medic’s blood ran cold and he swiped his heard around the room for a sign of Spy.
“S-Show yourself!” he barked, “I know you are zhere!”
Spy was feeling nice today for some odd reason mixed with a stroke of luck. So, he decided to follow Medic’s orders and reveal himself. He did so by getting behind Medic and in one swift motion, he got the doctor to drop his bonesaw and pin his arm behind his back. Spy held a knife to Medic’s throat and rested his head on the larger man’s clothed shoulder, the stiff fabric scratching Spy’s chin.
Oh, he was going to have fun with this one.
“So,” Spy taunted, “You’re the scary RED Medic that everyone is so afraid of, oui? Not so tough without your friendly giant around, are you?”
Medic’s breathing became ragged, but he dared not open his mouth, for the knife at his throat said otherwise. He worked his jaw a bit, but no sound would come out. Instead, he just stared at Spy with those wide blue eyes.
“You know, people talk,” Spy continued, “And I do adore gossip every now and then. They say you are a necrophile. That you get a sexual ‘igh from the sight of corpses. Convenient you chose this profession, non?”
Medic paused and furrowed his brow. “N-Necro… phile?” he repeated.
“Awww, you don’t know, do you?” Spy mocked, then preceding to let out a snorting laugh. This was honestly just too easy. Poor little Medic, being called names behind his back like a bullied grade schooler.
“So zhis is vhat zhis is about?” Medic sighed, “Mein Gott, you pick up vone severed arm for blood transfusion purposes, and suddenly everyvone zhinks you vant to fornicate vith a corpse. If you are going to kill me, could you do it now and spare zhe chit-chat? I need not be reminded of zhose rumors.”
Spy did just that. As he watched Medic momentarily convulse and gag on the ground before dying in a pool of his own blood, the gears in Spy’s mind churned. Why was Medic so nonchalant about being on the literal verge of death with a knife at his throat? He has both seen and heard Medic scream when dying from ever cause under the Sun. Today should not have been any different.
Along with that, Spy could have sworn that before Medic’s throat was slashed, he caught the glimpse of a smile appearing on those thin lips. It wasn’t the smile of malice, waiting until his Russian pet hunted Spy down to crunch his spine like an accordion. It was a smile that was almost fond. Like Medic had just seen a long-lost friend after all these years.
Spy shuddered and lit a new cigarette, trying to wipe his mind of the exchange as he switched focus to reach the Engineer before the other REDs caught wind of the situation.
Chapter 2: Sweet Dreams Are Made of This
Who is Spy to disagree?
TW: Masturbation and regret
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Spy stared up at the dark ceiling yet again, drowning in his own thoughts. He hasn’t been able to sleep the past several days, so he was alone with his own inner workings to lull him into a roughly four or three hours of sleep. He once had a colleague who would say it was full moon when this kind of stuff happened. Was it a full moon? Who knows; Spy was too lazy to get out of bed and check.
Tonight was no different. At first, the only thing that kept him up was Soldier giving their team doctor a hard time about his drastically increased drinking habits. Spy, his quarters being right next to the medbay, tried to smother his ears with a pillow, but to no avail. That man had a rough, booming voice no matter what his volume was supposed to be at, and his screaming made it worse.
After Soldier left stomping down the hall, Spy now had no excuse- he just couldn’t sleep. He even considered getting up to steal some sleeping pills from the medbay, but the poor man in charge of the place has already had enough to deal with tonight. Besides, he was a grown man who didn’t need any fancy medications to get a well-deserved rest.
Now seemed like a good of time as ever to ponder on how he could go to sleep. If he had a wife or a temporary lover he could cuddle up next to her, breathing in her perfume as a comfort scent. That’s what men did with their wives, right? Was sniffing your wife’s hair as creepy as sniffing a random girl you see at a night club?
Spy had never been able to afford the luxury of a permanent or even a six month-long lover in the past thirty years. There were always simply too many people who needed to be killed, and too little time. That wasn’t to say he never longed for one, though.
Did the other men in this war have girlfriends? Spy went through his mental checklist as he stared into the darkness. For his own team, he knew Scout had the hots for Miss Pauling who was clearly both out of his league and out of his reach. Sniper sometimes left to go into the nearest big city two hours away during ceasefires to get some action, but no official girlfriend as he was aware.
Engineer and Medic were married, with the latter on the phone with his beloved right now to complain about his troubles, heard through the drywall that separated them. Like their RED counterpart, Pyro was a mystery if they had any room for love in their heart, or if they were even male. The rest sometimes hitched up with Teufort girls for fun occasionally, but that was it.
He wasn’t as versed in the specifics of the RED team’s dabbles in love and in the cheap prostitutes from trashy Teufort, but he knew about a few. He knew was the their Demoman was too focused on his war with Spy’s Soldier to have time for girls.
He has also recently become aware that the RED Spy has hitched up with BLU Scout’s mother, which Scout complained about constantly. Must be nice, being such a handsome rogue to get ladies drooling at his feet, while his counterpart could barely get time for a date. Spy detested him for that.
Spy groaned and removed the pillow from his face. Okay, back to thinking about himself. If he could get a woman like that, she’d be pretty. Well, obviously she’d be beautiful, but not an outward kind of beauty. Dark hair that frames her face, hiding a playful gleam in her soft eyes behind thick frames of glasses, perhaps, Spy nodded to himself in agreement with a less than dignified grin on his face as his hand traveled downwards towards even more undignified regions.
Her figure would be voluptuous, especially around the bust area. Spy could bury his face in there for hours, listening to her heart’ steady rhythm. Pale skin like fine porcelain would be ideal, but maybe a bit of a sun-kissed tan from the desert sun would add a nice touch of color. The groan Spy emitted between parted lips agreed with that as his imagination would run wild. All of that soft skin would be packaged neatly beneath long, flowing dresses that caught in the wind like angel wings.
How great would it be to wake up every morning to a beautiful woman lying next to him, sun beams reflecting off her silky hair. She’d blink and squint at Spy upon waking up, trying to make out his features without her glasses. Despite her poor vision, she would kiss his scratchy face and he would compliment how pretty she looks, even with her messy hair.
Then she would smile… a small slip of a smile before her throat burst open and blood flowed out like a great stream.
Spy opened his eyes, but instead of waking up to see his lover beside him to comfort him from his nightmare, he stared up at the ceiling once more. He was still alone, with his hand sticky and his heart sinking down past his mattress.
Spy wasn’t usually one for outside smokes- not since he could smoke wherever he damn pleased in the base. But tonight wasn’t an ordinary night, so a little change in routine couldn’t hurt. Besides, Spy couldn’t stay in that room by himself right now, alone with his own vile thoughts.
RED Medic. He had been thinking of that RED Medic he toyed with several days ago. That snake had slithered his way into his mind and he accepted and pleasured himself to it like some sick barbarian. How dare he ruin a pleasant fantasy that was Spy’s and Spy’s alone. That conniving, perverted old man- he must have been planning this all along! A despicable battle tactic, even for Spy, who had his own fair share of not playing fair throughout his life.
Spy clenched his fingers around his cigarette as he glared at the dirt beneath his slippers, breathing angrily out of his nose. Despite how betrayed he felt after thinking he had the upper hand, it was admittedly a good tactic, distracting the enemy by invading his thoughts. Spy was very certain he wasn’t a homosexual; he has never been remotely attracted to a man, but now Medic was occupying his thoughts constantly.
He’d have to steal a textbook from his team’s doctor to read up on the psychology of sexual fantasies. If he recalled correctly, the doctor was once telling his fellow Heavy that dreams are just mixed-up movies playing in your brain, usually with not rhyme or reason. Yeah, that must have been it. Dreams surely had similar inner mechanisms as daydreaming when trying to get to sleep.
Spy bitterly breathed in through his cigarette, the nicotine washing down the horrible thought.
“Lost your way, skinny?” Sniper asked as he walked up to Spy underneath the moth-infested lamp on the side of the base. He was only wearing boxer shorts and socks with sandals and had a large bag on chips tucked under his arms. On the corner of his lip hung a limp, cheap cigarette. Spy sneered as he observed this abomination to standards of dressing.
“Just ‘aving a smoke,” he seethed, “I would offer you one, but I just remembered why I do not like you.”
“Woah, calm down there, Sheila,” Sniper said innocently, putting his hands up in defense, “No need to get yer panties in a bunch. Wot’re ya doin’ out ‘ere, anyways?”
Spy sighed. “I am enjoying the fresh air. Is there a problem with that?”
Sniper thought about it for a moment. “Nah, just makin’ small talk.” The filthy Bushman leaned up against the wall next to Spy, staring up at the starry sky above them. “Nice night, ain’t it? Not a cloud in sight.”
Spy reluctantly glanced up as well. So it was a full moon after all. “Yes, it’s no different than the sky we ‘ave seen a thousand times.”
A paused silenced the air between them for a moment. “You hear Soldier givin’ the old man a hard time again? Loon’s impossible to deal with, ‘specially when it comes to ‘is health. Hope we don’t gotta hold ‘im down and give ‘im a pill.”
“Don’t be stupid. Even if there was a pill for borderline alcoholism, Medic will just crush it into Soldier’s rations like ‘e did last time.”
“Wot’s got you all pissy?” Sniper retorted, turning his attention back to Spy, “Mad that the other Sniper is now lookin’ out for you an’ you couldn’t get a single kill on ‘im?”
“N-No…” Spy mumbled, “I would just rather be alone right now.”
Sniper’s eyes widened, and he tentatively put a hand on Spy’s shoulder with concern. “Mate,” Sniper said, “You really okay? I’m all ears if somethin’s on your mind.”
Spy roughly shoved the invading limb, which was probably caked with dirt and chip crumbs and many bathroom breaks that didn’t involve hand-washing, in his personal bubble off of himself. He flicked his cigarette on the ground and stepped it out, glowering at Sniper through the dim light.
“Not like that, you imbécile!” he barked, “Tu me fatigues- you’re just bothering me now. Don’t you ‘ave some jars to piss in for tomorrow?”
The look on Sniper’s face stiffened and he rolled his eyes. He tightened his grip on his chips bag and began walking back to his van that was parked off base nearby.
“Sorry for tryin’ to help out my teammate,” he apologized sarcastically, “Next time you wanna be alone, just shut yourself in your room like you always do.”
“I will,” Spy yelled back, and held his tongue so he didn’t continue on like he really wanted to.
He sure will do just that, and he did. The only problem was that while he did keep his word and shut himself back in his room, his thoughts of Medic still burned in the back of his mind, signifying another night of minimal sleep.
I think I'll post a new chapter every Friday. How's that sound?
Chapter 3: Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
Spy tries to battle like normal after last night's mistake. Demoman and Medic go Spy hunting.
The BLU Medic is Swedish and the BLU Heavy is American.
Spy breathed in and breathed out through his black smoker’s lungs, bitterly feeding his addiction with the best nicotine he could get his hands on. His eyelids felt heavy, he hadn’t even shaved this morning, and he was in an all-around grumpy mood. Thankfully, his team mates picked up on this early on and kept their distance from them.
Well, almost everyone.
Soldier burst into Spy’s bubble, close enough into Spy’s face where he could smell the man’s bad breath from his breakfast of soup directly out of the can. Soldier lifted his swishing helmet just enough to stare at Spy in the eyes- a rare sight. They were stony blue with a serious glare in them, squinting slightly. Admittedly, it was easy to see what partially drew the enemy Demoman in. It was a shame that they were attached to the skull of this brute.
“Can I… ‘elp you?” Spy questioned.
“Hmph, just as I thought,” Soldier growled, then stepping back with his helmet back over his eyes.
“What?” Spy said, raising an eyebrow.
“Slacking off by losing sleep last night, eh?” Soldier replied, “Think you can just get out of serving your country by doing a half-assed job?”
“Please,” Spy spat, rolling his eyes, “You’re acting like I one, serve this country, and two, actually want to feel like I’m dead inside because I can’t get my night’s rest.”
“Why didn’t you go visit the nurse over there to knock you out?” Soldier barked, pointing to the doctor in question nearby. The unamused Swedish man rolled his eyes and gave a rude finger to Soldier when the ruffian turned back around to Spy. He muttered something under his breath in his native tongue before making his way over to speak to Scout. Glad to know someone here hated Soldier more than Spy did.
Holding back the urge to blow smoke in the offender’s face again, he turned his head to the side momentarily as he set his cigarette between his fingers. “Maybe it’s because you kept ‘im, and the whole base, up with your incessant screeching. You could maybe do with some of those anti-psychotics Medic is trying to prescribe to you every time you barge in with your own arm in your hand. It would ‘elp our ears, at least. Maybe even ‘elp you forget about that Demoman you ‘ate so much.”
“I DO NOT NEED DRUGS!” Soldier bellowed, pointing a finger in Spy’s face, “I AM A HARD-WORKING AMERICAN, NOT SOME HIPPIE COMMIE DANCING IN A CIRCLE WITH FLOWERS. AND I CERTAINLY DON’T NEED TO FORGET ABOUT THAT SUNNAVABITCH.” The whole locker room went dead silent as Soldier breathed heavily from his outburst. Even Spy was taken aback from the sudden shrill increase in volume. Soldier swiveled where he stood to see all eyes on him, and he growled like a cornered wild beast. “Anyone else have something to say!?”
As surprising as a drought in the Badlands, no one said anything. Well, everyone except the cocky Spy, of course.
“I do,” he began, nose scrunched with annoyance over this childish man.
“No, you don’t,” Sniper piped up from where he sat on a nearby bench, lowering his glasses to flash his eyes at Spy briefly, “Drop it, mate.”
Swallowing his pride, Spy folded his arms. “Non, I suppose I don’t,” he muttered.
“C’mon, Solly,” Scout offered as he approached Soldier, putting a hand on the larger man’s shoulder, “Just forget ‘bout dat Demoman already. Ya already got those shiny new boots from your feud. It’s over… right?”
“War is never over, son,” Soldier snapped, pushing Scout out of the way to rest his rocket launcher over his shoulder, “I’ll kill him every day until one of us dies for good. I never want to forget; I always want the hatred fresh in my mind.”
Soldier stormed off to be the first out of the gates when the round started in ten minutes, his shiny Gunboats clinking on the tiled floor roughly. Scout spiraled his finger around of the side while motioning to Soldier and went back to his locker to finish his can of Bonk! Sniper shook his head at Spy and went back to polishing his rifle as a time-killer. Spy shot a nasty glare back to the bushman and continued to smoke.
It was mornings like these where Spy wished he could be killed from good and not have to look at these idiots again.
The match eventually started like normal, which meant every man practically pushed and shove to get out of the door first. Soldier was the first run ahead of the rest, so he had a good enough blast radius to rocket forward to find his foe. Scout then followed as fast as his legs could take him, and the others split off on their own paths, aside from Medic following behind Heavy.
Spy used his effective vent route as always, ignoring any dirt he picked up on the way. However, instead of going for the Sniper nest first today, he decided to go directly for the Engineer today. The bothersome man was proving to be too much of a challenge later in the matches, after having enough time to set up his nest. May as well sap that bud directly at the source; the bushman wouldn’t be moving much anyways.
Spy cautiously checked the respawn door for several moments. It wasn’t likely anyone would be walking out at least for ten seconds- the round just started. That was plenty of time for Spy to disguise and slip into Engineer’s nest. With fancy shoes tapping against the concrete, he ran from where the vent sat in the wall and past the respawn door.
Of course, just as Spy reached the stairwell, the respawn door just happened to open. From the corner of his eye, Spy caught a glimpse of a fluttering white lab coat and the glare of round spectacles. Of course, it was the RED Medic. The man in question seemed annoyed; he probably got headshot the second he stepped outside to the central point. If Spy hadn’t known any better, he would think the universe is just trying to get them to meet again.
Spy wasn’t ready to prove the universe rest. He bolted up the stairs ahead of him as fast as his scrawny legs could take. However, in the process of his unplanned escape, his pistol slipped out of his pocket, clattering loudly against the floor. Medic definitely heard that one, but luckily Spy skittered around a nearby corner, out of sight, before he was seen.
Medic raised and eyebrow and approached the dropped weapon with caution, picking it up with a squelch of his gloves. Icy blue eyes widened and the realization that this wasn’t his team’s Spy’s gun washed over him. He scanned the surrounding area, holding his bonesaw up in a protective stance. Though he didn’t have to think long before he heard the sound of footsteps near the top of the stairs.
Slowly, he went up the many steps, listening intently for the intruder to pop out at any moment. He was too focused to even breath normally right now; trying to initiate a surprise attack was his top priority now. Step by step, until he reached his destination, ready to deflect anyone who was ready to pounce on him.
What Medic got instead was a dark-skinned man with a broken bottle sheathed and only a single eye in his head lunging for him, calling out a battle cry. The two ran into each other and Medic lost his footing from the surprising difference in weight he was expecting. What was even more surprising was that this wasn’t the blue team colors he was expecting; in fact, this man’s uniform looked almost red. A jumbled mess of limbs and weapons now lay on the floor, with Demoman on top of Medic, pinning him down.
“Ach, schweinhund!” Medic cried out, uselessly kicking his legs and trying to push the Scot off him, “Get off of me! Ve’re are on zhe same side.”
“I’ve got you now, ya alley-skulkin’ backstab -” Demoman hollered, but lowering his bottle when he met Medic’s gaze, “Oh… yer not the spy.”
“Of course I’m not!” Medic cried, “I zhought you vere.” He paused and raised a suspicious eyebrow at the man above him “Vait, how do I know you aren’t zhe spy?”
“Would that scrawny thing of a spy be able ta knock ya over?”
The two men silently stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter at their silly predicament. Even though he was laughing, Demoman- who was really just Spy- was shocked that he was able to pull this off. He wasn’t exactly the most physically strong person on the team; in fact, he was downright the weakest, even behind Scout. Guess luck was in his favor today, aside from running into Medic.
Demoman stood up and offered Medic a hand, which the old man gladly accepted. They dusted themselves up and fixed their uniforms and weapons back into position.
“So,” Medic said idly, “You saw zhe Spy go zhis vay?”
“Aye,” Demoman lied through his teeth, “Tried ta get a chib on me but the dunderheid missed. Guess I’m no better, though- let the snake get away. Looks like he dropped his little toy pistol, at least.”
Medic tapped his chin. “Zhat Spy has been strange lately,” he commented, “He gets quite zhe impressive kill on Sniper, zhen both me and Herr Heavy a few days ago, but I haven’t seen him since. You vould zhink he vould be targeting me more instead of focusing solely on Engineer and Sniper.”
Demoman’s blood turned cold and he put on his best fake laugh. “Maybe the bastard’s afraid of ya,” he offered.
“Maybe so,” Medic said. His head snapped up to attention and he gave Demoman an odd look. “Veren’t you supposed to be rushing ahead to meet zhe enemy Soldier? He’s looking for you, you know.”
“O-Oh, what, him?” Demoman laughed, “I’ve already forgotten ‘bout him. He can be angry, I’m focusing on winning.”
Medic grinned and gave Demoman quite a hard pat on the back (or maybe it was just hard because Medic had a lot more muscle mass than Spy did). “Vell, it’s good you have finally moved on from zhat silly feud,” he consoled, “I know zhe breakup has been hard on you. You vere so fond of each ozher.”
“F-Fond?” Demoman sputtered.
Medic put a hand on Demoman’s shoulder, giving a warm smile. “Tavish, it vas no secret. But don’t vorry, I won’t tell zhe ozhers. Now, let’s go find zhat Spy.”
‘So, they did ‘ave more going on than a mere friendship,’ Spy thought, saving that information for future blackmailing purposes
Demoman let out a sigh of relief and Medic turned his back to walk on ahead, oblivious to what lied behind him. Demoman pulled out a knife from his back pocket and spun it in his hand. He followed Medic up the second flight of stairs, gradually getting closer with increasing speed. However, he nearly ran into his kill when Medic abruptly stopped at the stairs.
“You know somezhing?” Medic asked, looking down at his boots.
“W-What?” Demoman muttered.
“I do have to give credit vhere it is earned,” Medic continued, then turning to look over his shoulder at Demoman with a smile, “Zhat vas a pretty good Demoman impersonation. You almost had me for a moment.”
Demoman froze where he stood. How could Medic see through such a flawless disguise? Why wasn’t he attacking or screaming for help, even when Spy cleared had a knife in the hand of his Demoman persona? And most importantly, why was Medic smiling about this? The world felt much, much larger now, and they were the only two people in the world in this very, very terrifying moment.
“A moment is all I need,” Spy said, now slipping back into his normal accent. He threw himself forward and plunged his knife into Medic’s stomach before swiftly drawing it back out, disguise now broken. Medic double over and clasped the wound. His other hand dropped his bonesaw and grasped the stair railing for balance
And then he moaned.
The sound shocked Spy so much he nearly dropped his own blade from how much it threw off his groove. He couldn’t have possible heard Medic right. Coughing up a gob of blood, Medic looked up at Spy with an even bigger grin, now flashing his bright, white teeth that were stained red.
“Now zhere…” Medic said with a hoarse voice, “Zhere is zhe Spy I know. You do not disappoint, meine geliebte.”
Spy clenched his hand around his knife even as it began to tremble. Spy was a man of culture, and even if it was brief, he had spent enough time in Germany during a mission to know that that phrase did not mean, “My most hated enemy whom I hate because we are on opposite teams and are meant to kill each other.” He felt sick to his stomach, but he wouldn’t let that deter him.
He let out a cry, a battle cry, and once again jumped on Medic. He used Medic’s hunched stance to get a shot at his back, which he plunged in one quick motion. Medic sputtered up more of his precious life fluids, but Spy had no time to fancy his demise. Luckily, he managed to retrieve his knife as he sent Medic’s dying body tumbling down the set of stairs.
Spy breathed heavily, his heart racing and his mind spinning. That must have been a moan of pain he heard, not a moan of… something else Spy would rather not think about. It was just his tired mind playing tricks on him. But then again, why would Medic call him something like that, like they were lovers.
Spy tried not to dwell on any further possibilities of this awful interaction as he disguised as the enemy Demoman once more, before Medic came out the respawn door and they had to interact once again. All he knew is that he could live with Soldier’s reprimands for now; there’s no way in Hell he’s risking running into Medic again.
Chapter 4: Target Practice
Back to normalcy for Spy.
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
While it was an odd encounter to say the least, Spy wasn’t going to let one trip-up get in the way of his career; he was a highly-trained assassin, of course.
He continued onwards for the next few days with no issues with Medic. He would get swift backstabs on the man and whoever he was following around like a lost puppy, Medic would scream before respawn claimed him, and the job was done. No cornering, no weird nicknames, just Spy getting his kill. Naturally, RED was losing more often than winning lately. It felt as if everything had gone back to normal by now. Admittedly, an old saying of Sniper’s about the kill being so easy that he’s getting worse came to Spy’s mind during this time.
Spy felt good, really good. Bordering arrogance at this point, if he had to admit. With his mind clear and his name at the top of the daily leaderboard, Spy has never felt more alive. He felt like he was a dashing young man again in the prime of his career before the Gravel Wars. If he felt this confident, a little arrogance couldn’t hurt too much.
Saturday came without any issues, and Spy had finally felt cocky enough to use the vent again by this point. After getting some backstabs on the enemy Soldier, he made his uncomfortable journey across the facility to reach RED spawn, though froze when he heard something. A door was opening- the vertical metal door of respawn. Footsteps shortly followed, then voices, ones that Spy instantly recognized as Heavy and Medic through the vent slits. Spy held his breath; luckily, he was far enough away that the smell of his cigarette couldn’t be detected.
“Spy has not shown face yet,” Heavy commented, “Odd.”
“Indeed,” Medic agreed. The shifting of his feet meant that Medic was scanning the area in case Spy was nearby but thankfully wasn’t clever enough to suspect the vent. Spy couldn’t stifle a silent snicker to himself.
“Has been big problem lately,” Heavy expressed with a sigh.
“Ja,” Medic said absently, obviously not paying much attention to the giant.
“You have been not so good, too.”
Medic’s feet spun around to face Heavy. “Vat is zhat supposed to mean?”
“Team is talking- say you are very off your game. Say you are getting to be too old for this. Heavy is not happy either.”
“Oh really?” Medic snapped stomping several paces away from Heavy, “Who are you, meine Mutter?! I can hold my own. Zhat Spy is targeting me, I know it!”
The two fell silent for a moment.
“Medic…” Heavy rumbled softly, approaching Medic- perhaps he was lightly squeezing the man’s shoulder while he held Sasha in the other, “You know I do not mean this.”
Medic sighed. “I know, mein Freund, I know.”
“We should go out to battle,” Heavy offered, the distinctive clinking of Sasha being hefted up sounding, “Before Spy gets us.”
“You go on ahead,” Medic replied, feet swiveling back around towards the respawn door, “I’ll catch up. I’m going to switch out to my crossbow- Demoman could use zhe fast healing.”
Heavy paused for a moment. “Very well,” he said, “Be safe. Will see you soon.” They parted their separate ways, and Spy listened as Medic opened the respawn door and Heavy clunked his way out of the room. He was once again left by himself in the dirty vent.
Spy was a bit taken aback by this interaction, squinting through the light filtering into the vent. This didn’t feel like nearly the same Medic as the one who moaned when Spy stabbed him several days ago. Much more human, more realistic.
This got the gears in Spy’s head to finally start working again. Maybe he did just hear Medic wrong and he was worrying himself over these interactions for no reason. That little late-night masturbation mistake was probably nothing, just a messed-up movie like dreams were. Spy smirked to himself and shook his head. What was he thinking?
He waited until he heard the respawn door open again and watched as Medic’s feet appeared then disappeared from his view. He gave himself several seconds of complete silence, except for the whirr of nearby machines, before popping out of then vent. Back to reality, just how he liked it. To that, he took a deep drag of his cigarette, cherishing the comforting scent.
Spy had no reason to be worried at all.
“You’re not getting avay zhis time!”
Spy could barely turn around before he found himself ducking out of the way of an incoming bonesaw blade. He rolled off to the side and felt a breeze upon his cheek. Bringing his hand up to his masked cheek, he felt a tear run up alongside part of his face to his ear. It was a close cut, barely grazing his skin. Too close.
Standing before him was the man himself, Medic, recoiling his arm from his failed stab at Spy. He brought the blade to his side and rolled his shoulders to crack them. Spy’s mouth was only very much dry, and he lost cigarette in the tussle, but he found himself smirking.
Just like things used to be, but finally, he had a worthy challenge.
Spy lunged behind Medic to attempt to get a backstab, but instead was met with one of Medic’s powerful arms knocking the wind out of him in a clean punch. Despite his wheezing that made him lose his footing, he managed to get Medic in that arm with the blade. The German hissed and clutched the wound, pulling the knife out in the process. Great, now Spy lost his main utility.
“Come on, I know you can do better,” Medic said, almost in a teasing manner as he met Spy’s gaze with a grin, “A little effort, bitte?”
Medic threw the knife off to the side of the room as it slid under one of the large machines. Spy stumbled backwards on the ground and scanned the surrounding area for a way out as Medic approached, a wicked look in his blue eyes.
Back in the vent? No, Medic was standing in front of him and it was too far away. Medic could easily trip him and finish him off. Judging by how much he’s dominated Medic and his colleagues lately, Spy feared how much he’ll suffer before a quick death was brought upon.
Up the stairwell to the right? No, Spy could hear the Engineer tending to his machines like a shepherd would his flock with the distinct buzzing sound not far by. He could get around Medic and disguise on his way up, but not without severe injuries in the process, like a hit deer limping back into the woods to die. An instant giveaway to any enemies that lied up ahead.
Try to get his knife back? Definitely not. Even if it wasn’t knocked under a large turbine, it was simply too far away to run and grab before he could even try to get another scratch on Medic. He would may as well slit his on throat at that point.
By the time Spy had surveyed all his options, and a thick layer of sweat had formed under his balaclava, his elbows had hit a nearby wall. Medic was still towering over him, bonesaw gleaming in the fluorescent lights of the spacious room. He flashed Spy his way-too-perfect white teeth that looked like it had too many teeth fit in the jaw. A menacing, evil grin if Spy had ever seen one.
“Vell, vell,” Medic sighed with a sad smile, “I really zhought you vere going to try and run. How dreadfully boring. Ah, vell. I guess I can send you through respawn and ve can try again.”
Before Medic could continue his speech, Spy had remembered that unlike Medic, he had a gun, and he used that gun to put a bullet between those icy blue eyes eyes. Medic fell backwards, bonesaw clattering to the concrete floor and echoing around the room. Spy used the time when blood pooled on the floor to catch his breath. Clearly Medic going easy on him had made this close call a bigger shock than before. It had been weeks since Spy felt like his life was genuinely in danger.
Spy ignored how intensely he was trembling and scurried off to the main hallway. Someone else could take care of Engineer today. He needed a new knife and to stay as far away from RED’s spawn as possible.
I feel like I should have said this in the beginning, but this isn't the same canon as I write my other tf2 fics in. If this was like my other fics, everyone would be happy and domestic.
Chapter 5: 'squiters
Sometimes the best way to forget your troubles is to go where the beer and breasts are.
“For the last time, maggot, Bob Gibson is the greatest man to ever touch a baseball bat!”
“No way! Yastrzemiski killed it dis season. You just like Gibson ‘cause the Cardinals won dis year!”
“And I’m ‘won’ second away from KICKING YOUR ASS!”
Tonight was the beginning of yet another average pre-ceasefire Saturday night for Builder’s League United. The team had kicked back in the rec room with beer and greasy fast food Demoman had picked up from town. They were on a consistent winning streak this week, so everybody was in a good mood, even with the arguing. Oddly, it never felt right when Scout and Soldier didn’t immediately start going at it; all the pent-up rage from the weekly battles spilling out over whatever they chose to argue over that week.
Spy sat in his usual spot, which was as far away from Soldier as possible, and held a bottle of cheap beer to be polite. Only tonight he didn’t feel like he usually would for such an occasion. The image of Medic’s menacing, evil grin flickered in the back of his eyelids whenever he blinked. Like a smudge of dirt that he could wipe off his mind.
How was he supposed to even feel about this? His suspicions about Medic were growing with each passing day, each encounter they shared. Never mind that Medic was a man- they were on opposite sides of a brutal, bloody war. Several nights ago’s sexual mistakes bubbled back up like bile in his throat. It was wrong. Very, very wrong. He struggled to maintain his composure and not hyperventilate as he regretted everything he’s done this week.
Spy had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hardly noticed the soft tapping on his shoulder.
“’squiters getcha, son?”
Quickly- a bit too quickly- Spy whipped his head to the invasive touch. He then met eyes with a pair of hazel ones, which sported rings around them where goggles gave a goofy-looking tan. It was the BLU Engineer, a soft-spoken, stocky, and short man with a thick beard running across his lower face. Out of everybody on the team, thankfully he was the one that Spy hated the least.
“W-What?” Spy said, “Speak English, sil vous plait?”
“I asked if the mosquitoes gotcha,” Engineer repeated slowly, leaning over to speak into Spy’s ear over Soldier and Scout’s yelling, “Y’know, the lil bugs?”
“Why… do you ask?” Spy asked cautiously, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, you’ve been itchin’ yer arm for a while now,” Engineer explained, motioning to Spy’s arm with his beer bottle, “Pretty red, too.”
Spy looked down at his own limb. Apparently, Medic occupied his thoughts enough where he didn’t even realize his nails were digging into his own arm. Through his thick arm hair dragging marks showed through. How long had the Texan been watching? Spy’s mouth felt dry and he instinctively took a swig of his horrible drink.
“Um… oui?” Spy said bashfully, shrugging.
‘Idiot! Don’t lie, you disgusting pervert. You were too busy thinking about another man on another team’ Spy’s internal monologue raced.
“Must’ve got yet scrawny ass good,” Engineer offered with a hearty laugh, patting Spy on the back and causing the man to lunge forward in his seat momentarily, “Scratch any more an’ yer gonna draw blood. Why dontcha go see Medic? Sure he’s got some ointment in there.”
‘Don’t go there. Your team Medic is a Medic and Medic’s are all lunatics who will seduce you and pop a boner when killed. Stay away stay away stayawaystayawaystayaw-‘
“I-I think I ‘ave some in my room,” Spy lied.
“Oh, well alright then,” Engineer replied, flashing a small smile that temporarily deformed the shape of his beard. They both took a moment to watch Scout and Soldier, who were now getting physical. Scout was feebly throwing punches while Soldier had the kid in a headlock.
Engineer was the first to turn his attention back to Spy. “Y’ did good this week,” he commented.
“Really?” Spy asked, “’aven’t noticed.”
“C’mon, we saw you!” Engineer nudged Spy, “Been a while since you’ve been the MVP, much less three days in a row.”
A bit of the color that drained from Spy’s face came back to flush his cheeks. “Me?”
“Well, sure. If it ain’t for you, that Medic would’ve been a mighty big problem. Barely gave ’im enough time ‘tween respawns to catch up to his big guy.”
And just like that, the color left his face one more. A hand wrapped around his stomach and it suddenly was much harder to breath. The commoner’s beer he had indulged in tonight felt like he was going to come back up any second now. He covered this all up by coughing briefly into his hand, then nudging Engineer.
“I… am not feeling well,” he muttered, “I am going to go. Tell them not to mourn my loss too much.”
‘Shut up, shut up, shut, you filthy pig. You know you just can’t handle the truth.’
Engineer chortled. “Alright, chief,” he affirmed, giving a sympathetic look, “Hope you feel better. And get that ointment.”
“Will do,” Spy said, silently bidding Engineer goodnight amidst the sea of noise coming from Medic trying to pry Soldier and Scout off each other. Guess they won’t mind his absence too much.
As Spy made his way towards the door, Sniper turned his head to look at him from the corner of Spy’s eye. He gave a slight scowl, and shook his head before turning his attention back to the chaos. Spy rolled his eyes and continued onwards, not bothering to hear anything from the bushman right now.
Spy couldn’t remember the last time he felt so bad. His shoes were made of lead, each step he took getting closer to collapsing. A sickening feeling was lodged in his throat, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about Medic. The man clearly had won if his goal was to get into Spy’s head.
Engineer probably didn’t buy that flimsy excuse Spy gave. Only an idiot (like Soldier) would fall for that. Oh God, he probably knew. The man had eleven PhD’s for God’s sake- he probably thought it was funny to see Spy unravel. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and was the one Spy should truly be afraid of on his team, and-
Spy stopped in his tracks, blinking from how much his mind had been racing. He had reached the door to his bedroom without even realizing it. The logical decision would be to lie down and enjoy a nice book if his stomach was ready to spit up today’s meals and tobacco. But right now wasn’t a logical time. Nothing felt right, and Spy hated it.
He did enter his room, but only to grab his car keys he kept in a locked dresser. It wasn’t an entire lie he told Engineer; he really did need some fresh air.
Teufort wasn’t known for a lot of things positive. It was a cramped, dirty town full of rural bumpkins and village idiots in the middle of the smoldering desert. The constantly warfare of the Gravel Wars throughout the surrounding area was an instant turnoff for potential new residents, and about a quarter of the houses in the area were vacant. Tourist revenue was practically nonexistent, and the state government was constantly sweeping any requests for extra funds other the rug.
The only thing that garnered any attention to Teufort was the strip club about six miles out of town, sandwiched between a motel and a truck stop.
Just like the town nearby, The Desert Diamonds was equally as trashy and run-down. It had a whopping total of five strippers, and they were all Teufort locals. If anyone had to be honest, they were the most average strippers on the face of the planet. Crooked teeth, varying ages, less-than-impressive busts and butts- exactly what one expects in a highway strip club.
Spy watched the dancers from the corner of the club, sitting by himself in a dimly lit corner and swishing his wine in his cup out of sheer boredom. He observed the burly-looking men ogling the best-looking girl at the very front, throwing crumpled bills at her sub-par performance.
‘Look at those simpletons,’ Spy internally judged, ‘They wouldn’t know an attractive woman if she got down on her knees before them.’
Spy was better than that, but he was a man, after all. He was getting some enjoyment out of these lovely ladies putting on a show. He especially loved the one with silky black hair in the middle with a red thong. Perhaps he will purchase her “outside” services later, shown her what a real gentleman feels like. The motel couldn’t be more conveniently placed.
He lit himself a fresh cigarette and sat back with a smirk. Why was he even worried about Medic at all?
“Excuse me, what time is it?” someone partially yelled over the blasting music from Spy’s side.
Spy checked his watch nonchalantly. “A quarter past ten,” he replied, eyes glued on the girls.
“Ah, danke,” the voice beside him replied. Spy nodded and closed his eyes to relax more.
And then they bolted back open. He swished his head to the side and stared up until his gaze met one hidden behind round spectacles.
“You,” Spy hissed, stumbling up from his seat.
“I said zhank you,” Medic replied casually, motioning to Spy’s wristwatch, “For zhe time.”
Spy whipped his head around the area. No witnesses; the other patrons were too focused on the girls to pay attention to what occurred behind them. He focused back at Medic, who was in his uniform minus the long white coat and gloves- a vest with maroon slacks and knee-high boots. He looked completely casual, not battle-ready at all. It only just now occurred to Spy that people on the other team go out and wear pedestrian clothes just like he does.
No, this wasn’t right. Spy reached into his back pocket and pulled out the knife he kept for emergencies (and this was definitely one). For now, he kept the blade hidden behind his back.
“What are you doing here?” Spy interrogated with suspicion.
Medic peered around the room and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s zhe best bar in zhe area,” he replied, “Zhe vones at Teufort are no good.”
Spy wet his lips and stepped slightly closer. “Why don’t we go outside and meet over a cigarette?” he offered, but not in a way that Medic had a choice, “I insist.”
“Oh, no zhank you,” Medic retorted, putting a hand up, “I’d rather get my drink first. Perhaps ve can talk zhere?”
It was now that the strobe lights of the club reflecting off of the blade that Spy now held in front of Medic’s stomach. Spy could see Medic visibly tense, his jaw closing firmer and his posture straightening.
“I insist, docteur.”
The second the two were behind the building, which unfortunately was near the garbage can, Spy was pinning Medic to the wall in seconds. He held the knife to his neck and held him in the way he learned from his two months as a police officer in Scotland. Medic, however, didn’t look too nervous, like this was just a minor inconvenience.
“Why are you following me!?” Spy snarled, pressing the knife closer to exposed skin despite his victim not struggling in the slightest.
“Now, now, zhis is all a big misunderstanding,” Medic said calmly.
“Don’t play games with me!” Spy snapped, “I can see through your tricks, you dirty nurse-maid. You’ve been following me all week, and now you’ve followed me off the battlegrounds. What is your end game? I’d watch ‘ow you answer this.”
Medic’s mouth drew into a thin line, then sighing. “If you must know, zhis is zhe only good bar in zhis half of zhe state,” he explained with annoyance, “I didn’t know you’d be so hostile outside of vork.”
Beneath his rage Spy felt like an idiot. How could he been so caught up in his own panic that he hadn’t even considered that Medic is a man, too, and just wanted to get some beer and see some breasts. Then again, that only explained tonight, and not the rest of the week. The moan when Spy stabbed him in the stomach, or how he cornered Spy like it was a game. Something was definitely up.
“That- that is beside the point!” Spy said, “What about the rest of the week? You were letting me win, weren’t you? Is this some sick fantasy for you?”
This time the annoyance drained from Medic’s face and he glanced towards the wall he was pressed against. His glasses were skewed from the awkward position, and the dirty, scratchy concrete wall was rubbing uncomfortably against his cheek. Spy had him in a grip as similar as their initial encounter that week, only this time there was a manic, desperate look in Spy’s posture and the way he smothered Medic against a surface.
“I… oh, Gott, zhis is embarrassing,” Medic mumbled, avoiding eye contact. Was he… blushing?
“Spit it out before I cut your tongue out!” Spy commanded harshly into his ear.
The Adam’s apple in Medic’s throat bobbed, and Spy was a moment away from cutting his throat out. He opened his mouth idly before any sound came out at first.
“I vanted to see you again.”
Chapter 6: Colorblind
Spy has no impulse control.
I almost forgot to post cause I was distracted by studying and Scream Fortress. Oops
uhhhhh anyways here's the sexy times no one was waiting for
“You… what?” Spy inquired, knife slightly faltering in his tight grip, “Come again?”
“I vanted to see you again,” Medic replied sheepishly, “Ah, perhaps I should have said zhat from zhe start, ja?”
Spy’s lips turned upward in a disgusted snarl. What kind of trick was this? He’s heard excuses across the board in the last year he’s started this job from men begging to not be killed. Despite their pleas, they all landed in the same outcome of spilled blood. Though admittedly, this was a new one.
“Don’t play games,” Spy ordered, holding the knife closer to Medic’s jawline, “Flattery won’t save you now. You do know what team I am on, right? Or ‘ave you been inhaling too many fumes from your medigun lately?”
Medic swallowed thickly, and if he could move his arms right now, he’d be putting them up. “Vait, vait,” he pleaded, “Just let me explain. Zhen, you can kill me.”
“’ow about I do it right now?”
It was only a brief flash of terror that went across Medic’s face as the blade poked his flesh. The terror was quickly replaced by a smirk. “If you really vanted to kill me, zhen you vould have a long time ago.”
Spy paused, breathing frustration out of his nose. “I’m listening,” he sighed, pulling the knife away but not moving from his position. The musty yet cool air of the desert night pricked their skin, and the dim lamp above the back door illuminated them.
“I know about zhe vent,” Medic said.
‘Oh, merde, of course,’ Spy cursed in his head.
“I’m not stupid, mein Freund,” Medic continued, “I’ve known for a vhile now. Oh, but it vas worth it to see zhe look on your face vhen I snuck up on you!”
“So, this is what this is about?” Spy growled, “You just wanted payback?”
“Velll… not completely,” Medic replied, ““Zhe first time ve met vhen you killed Heavy and taunted me about zhose silly rumors… I couldn’t forget it. Zhe adrenaline, zhe closeness- I could smell your cigarettes like zhey vere my own.” Medic grinned and glanced downwards, his voice melting into a husky, thick accent-laced one. “And if zhat’s not your gun poking me in zhe thigh… I zhink you feel zhe same vay.”
The blood rushing in Spy’s ears froze over, and all the breath he was angrily moving in and out of his lungs was sucked in. As if the other man was made of molten iron, Spy jumped off on Medic. He only now just felt his biological urges had sprung up, and the blood rushed from his ears to his cheeks. He crossed his legs and turned around.
“T-This…” Spy sputtered, vaguely motioning to the air, “This. Means. Nothing. You-you used that sultry voice on purpose to get a rise out of me! Perverti sexuel! You and I are nothing alike!”
Medic got up from the wall and dusted the rubble off himself casually, as if Spy wasn’t popping a boner right now. Spy had never felt more shame in the past twenty years. He was a professional, yet he got aroused this quickly?
“All I’m saying is zhat ve are both adults,” Medic clarified carefully, “You clearly feel somezhing.”
“I AM NOT ATTRACTED TO YOU!” Spy hollered. Medic took this opportunity to groan and pull Spy over, putting his strong hands on Spy’s boney shoulders. At any moment someone from the club could walk outside for a smoke and see two men this close together
“Shhh, shut up!” Medic commanded as he lost his calm demeanor finally, “Do you vant zhe whole vorld to hear you? Ve are human, and ve are both men. No shame in zhese seemingly random erections, I’m just saying zhat I can help you take care of it.”
Something about Medic’s lowered voice did… something inside of him. “W-With you?!” he said, “You filthy nurse. I am not going to have sexual relations outside with the enemy!”
“And you don’t have to!” Medic exclaimed, “You can go back in zhere and get vone of your little girls to get mediocre service for zhe night at an unreasonable price. Mein Angebot steht noch. I got a motel room for zhe night to get avay from my team- room vone zero seven.”
Spy was already turned away from Medic, shaky hands fumbling in an attempt light himself a cigarette. He was trying to not listen to reality in any way he could without plugging his ears and signing some idiotic song. He didn’t care about his boner, he didn’t care that he had a boner in public, and he certainly didn’t care about Medic.
He licked his dry lips. Every voice in his head was telling him to just kill the man before him. He could easily just slit his throat or backstab him, and it would be over. But it also made Spy wonder something: if he gave in to this, would his intrusive thoughts about Medic go away? If Spy was lucky, the old tart could give the worst sex ever and Spy will never feel anything beyond disgust for him again.
Medic sighed and shook his head, beginning to retreat to the motel. “Goodnight, mein königsblau.”
Spy didn’t even give Medic the luxury of acknowledging his departure. Damn Medic, and damn his bad luck with running into this creepy, perverted, sick, disgusting…
When he failed the seventh time to get a flame up, he finally pried his eyes away from his hands and watched Medic’s figure become smaller and smaller. The man walked with a certain pride that showed on the battlefield. Chest and head high, back straight- almost as if he was in a respectable profession. Spy crunched the fragile cigarette between his fingers.
Damn it all!
Medic made it back to his motel room in relative silence but was sure to look both ways before shutting and locking his door. The room was dirty, and the bed probably had bugs, but it was solitude from his team for the night. As he flicked on the nearby lamp, he took a deep, cathartic breath and closed his eyes. A momentary peace and he slipped his shoes off.
The smell of expensive smoke got him back to reality, and before Medic responded he had been pressed against the wall by the now visible Spy. Medic cried out in surprise, but was quickly silence by Spy’s invading mouth on his own. Spy seized Medic and roughly pushed him to a nearby wall, causing the doctor to cry out in surprise as Spy let out all of his anger and anxiety in this one brutal kiss. Their teeth clacked together, and Spy had to force Medic to squat a bit to be at the larger man’s height, but they didn’t care how rough it was. All they focused on was getting some kind of contact, no matter what or how rough.
Spy should have known it was a bad idea when Medic- the enemy Medic- even alluded to a next time. He should have known when he practically ripped Medic’s vest open, the buttons flying in all directions, to reach at his hirsute chest and supple skin with harsh grabs and gropes. He should have known when he shoved Medic on the edge of the bed with such violence he never dreamed of using against any of his past lovers and and Medic actually liking it. And he definitely should have known it was a bad idea when he couldn’t even look Medic in the eyes as he furiously worked towards his own climax.
It was a terrible, awful idea. He was doing everything he was not supposed to do in the middle of a war. Yet in the heat of the moment, Spy was colorblind, and he couldn’t give a damn about morality and loyalty.
However, when it was all said and done, Spy’s brain caught up with his actions.
He pulled out of Medic and when he finally opened his eyes, his gaze met with the ice blue eyes of his enemy. He hardly recognized the man below him as the same murderous, joyful man on the battlefield. His flushed face and hair gave off an aura of innocence. Too bad it was attached to a person Spy felt sick to even look at.
Spy didn’t even give a damn if Medic was finished, leaving him to lie there on the creaky, ancient mattress. After throwing the used condom away, he began to fumble with putting his pants back on. He faced away from Medic as he did so, shaking his head.
‘Bad idea bad idea bad idea bad idea. You fucking idiot. Why did you do that?’
With Spy’s back turned, Medic rested his head back on the bed, idly running his hand over the sheets above his head. “You could have at least kept zhe buttons,” he mused, “Zhis vas my good vest.”
Spy ignored him. Medic sat up on his elbows and cocked his head at Spy, suppressing a laugh at Spy hopping on one foot to get back into his expensive pants.
“Not even going to stay and cuddle?” Medic asked, “You zhink you can drive vith zhose shaky limbs?”
“I don’t want to ‘ear anything from you!” Spy barked, finally turning back to face Medic when he was slipping his belt back on and pointing an accusing finger, “You were the one acting like some- some cheap ‘ore and seduced me into this!”
Medic rolled his eyes. “And vhat does zhat make you?” he retorted.
Spy felt his face heat up and he turned back around. “We never speak of this. This is only a one-time thing, and nothing more”
“Don’t expect me to come crawling back. We are enemies from this point onwards.”
Spy stormed out of the room, checking the outside area multiple times for anyone coming by before slipping into the shadows to run off to his car. He had no idea what he was feeling right now. An unsettling mixture of pleasure and disgust with himself left him not as eager to join back into battle.
God, he hoped he could finally sleep tonight.
Chapter 7: Yesterday's Regrets and Today's Poor Performance
Spy takes a moment to reflect on his choices as of late.
Spy did not sleep that night.
Instead, as soon as he got back to the base he hit the showers. The halls were empty from the team sleeping off the booze and greasy food that sat in their stomachs like rocks. There’s no reason for anyone to be up right now. Despite this, Spy snuck like he was still on the battlefield.
He threw the clothes he prided in being so expensive and well cared for in a crumpled heap on the floor in the locker room. He threw his baclava off and resisted the urge to look in the mirror as he passed by. He turned on one of the farthest back shower stalls to full blast, not caring how cold it was initially.
Soon the water was boiling, creating wisps of silent white ghosts in the surrounding air. Despite how quickly it turned his skin pink and tender, Spy wasn’t too concerned with it right now. He just had to get the feeling of Medic off of him; it still felt like Medic crawled inside of his skin and was wriggling around.
The images, the sounds, the feeling- the memories of the last hour wouldn’t stop replaying like a broken record. He remembered exactly where he left each hickey on Medic’s skin, and exactly how it felt. The little jolts and spasm Medic’s body did as he was ravished at such a brutal pace. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been desperately trying to imagine it was a woman he was making love to, but his mind always circled back to how this was a man, and a dangerous, bloodthirsty man at that.
Why did he do that? Why did he deliberately do the one thing he was never, ever supposed to do? Why, why, why did it have to be with Medic? Of all the people on RED, the one that was the most feared just happened to fall into Spy lap.
And why did Spy actually enjoy it?
Spy’s fist slammed on the wall and he clenched his teeth hard enough to be on the verge of cracking. He just had sex with a man and he liked it. And he was calling Medic the filthy one. He’s just some disgusting pervert who popped a boner from adrenaline and then committed sodomy in a ten-dollar motel room.
Despite his anger and disgust with himself and Medic, he couldn’t make a sound. He stood under the boiling shower water until it ran cold and he retired to his room. He lied awake hating himself until the Sun came up, in which his eyelids finally got the better of him and he drifted off to sleep.
No one saw a wink of Spy during the entirety of the Sunday ceasefire. He slept for the whole morning and was eventually woken up by the sound of Soldier getting into an argument with Heavy over poker in the rec room down the hall. He wasn’t hungry by then and had no intention of leaving the room, so instead he put in ear plugs and waited for it to stop. Despite how obscenely loud the two voices were, Spy was grateful for once that he had something to distract his mind.
Spy went through cigarette after cigarette, nestled in a burrow of his bed sheets and back against the wall. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was thinking about anymore. His mind felt like television static; his thoughts were jumbled and messy. A marathon of how all his previous sexual encounter (with women) had led up to him having sex with a man in such an undignified, desperate fashion.
At some point, long after Heavy and Soldier made temporary peace, his team doctor came knocking. He was delivering some ointment for the pretend bug bites Spy had confided in Engineer about last night. Though as a man of his morals- reserved, sharp, and never one for small talk- he left after Spy called that he wasn’t feeling well and said to leave the ointment by his door that he’ll pick up later. Good thing, too, because the presence of another doctor in Spy’s life right now dramatically raised his anxiety.
After an hour of making sure the coast was clear, Spy stuck an arm outside of his door to grab the ointment to be nice. Once the light behind the curtain vanished and Spy had gone through his current pack of cigarettes, another knock came. This time it was Scout.
“Yo, Spy!” the squeaky, boyish voice called, “You in dere? Hardhat’s askin’ if you want any dinner. Said you ain’t feelin’ too well. It’s gumbo. Can you handle dat?”
Spy groaned and wiped his tired eyes thoroughly. “No, I ‘ave eaten,” he replied. It was true- he had an organic, imported apple he got in his last shipment earlier that day, so he wasn’t starving himself.
“Oh,” Scout said from the other side of the door, “Do you, uh, need a bucket? ‘Cause you’re sick n’ crap.”
“Scout, I am not feeling very well,” Spy snapped,” he snapped, “I can take care of myself- I am no child. Your shrill voice is not ‘elping.”
“O-Oh, sure, yeah man,” Scout said, “I’ll tell the doc to leave you some more meds for your stomach.”
“Thank you, Scout. Goodbye.”
Spy listened to the sound of Scout’s lightly running footsteps disappear down the hall. Such a naïve, stupid boy. He didn’t have to deal with any of this because there was no one in this corner of the country willing to take him.
That elicited a laugh from Spy. A soft, almost forced chuckle under his breath, but a laugh nonetheless. What Medic would do if he had such a young man in his grasp like he had Spy? It was unlikely the kid would last a few seconds with such muscular, old man twice his size, though the mental images were amusing.
Spy trudged towards the bathroom, grabbing a robe hung on a hook nearby to wrap in around his thin frame. Out of all the places on the base, this was Spy’s least favorite. Small, cramped, with only a singular sink and toilet in a space Spy could reach from wall-to-wall with only an arms’ reach. Spy had tried to spruce it up with his French touch, but it was still the same disgusting bathroom as always.
Once he stood before the sink, he reached up to his scratchy face to remove his balaclava only to find it wasn’t there. It just now dawned on him that this was the first day since starting this contract that he didn’t put on his mask once. It felt it was always just… there. Spy bent down and began to scrub his face with cold water to wake himself off and maybe wash away his impurities.
He tried to resist the urge to look in the mirror once again as he patted his face with a fluffy towel. Unfortunately, Spy had poor impulse control. He pried his eyes away from his towel and stared into his own reflection before him.
Whoever was staring back at Spy was not someone could recognize anymore. Sure, this man had the same navy-blue eyes, long nose, and thin salt-and-pepper hair that drooped down his head in wisps from not having copious amounts of styling product for once. His eye and mouth regions were slightly darker than the rest of his skin thanks to the intense Sun, giving him a slightly goofy look, just like Spy.
What set Spy apart from the man gazing back at him was that spy couldn’t remember the last time he looked this exhausted. It wasn’t just exhaustion cause by a lack of sleep; it was something deeper. An exhaustion of the soul, maybe. The fissures of age had never run this deep, and his hair felt like it was growing grayer by the second.
Spy groaned and buried his face back into his towel. Partially because he still had water running down his jawline, and he didn’t want to keep dripping water onto his night clothes. Partially because the man that kept staring at him was freaking him out.
Spy hardly slept at all last night again.
Come Monday morning and everyone was begrudgingly back into their usual routines. They all tried to act normal when Spy came into the kitchen for breakfast that morning, but Spy knew the looks in their eyes said all. They all saw how dreadful Spy’s posture and overall demeanor was. The pitying feeling was what Spy hated the most, and it made him feel revolted with himself.
The doctor was all over him as soon as Spy entered the room, doting over him furiously. Spy groaned when he held his bare hand on Spy’s clothed forehead after trying to remove Spy’s mask with no success, and then took his temperature. While BLU’s Medic was a serious and ethically respectable man, it didn’t come without its downsides; no one on Builder’s League United even coughed on the premises without Medic noticing.
Of course, it also had to be in the middle of breakfast in front of the entire team, except for Sniper. Spy was glad the bushman wasn’t here to give his snickering comments today. Despite Sniper’s absence, the treatment Spy was getting was getting some smirks from the peanut gallery.
“Doc, that’s enough,” Engineer finally called from the stove, hands on his hips, “He said he’s well ‘nuff to battle. We oughtta believe him. Let ‘im be.”
Medic rolled his eyes and exited the room, slipping his squelchy rubber gloves back on. Spy regained his posture and made a pass for the coffee brewing on the counter before anyone else had the chance to approach him. Without any cream or sugar, Spy downed a whole cup of it black. It was bitter and very unpleasant, but Spy needed to wake up.
“Here, son,” Engineer said, passing Spy a bowl out of the corner of his eye. It was a bowl of oatmeal, piping hot off the stove. Spy raised an eyebrow at the stocky man. “For your stomach. Figured you’d need something easy to go down.”
Spy looked into the bowl, brows furrowed. “Does it ‘ave- “
“No sugar,” Engineer assured, smiling, “Ain’t seen none of you yesterday. I’m sure you’re mighty hungry.”
“Hmph,” Spy breathed, “I ate yesterday.”
“Well, that’s good n’ all, but you need your strength for today.” Engineer peered back at the table bustling with conversation and leaned in towards Spy with a lowered voice. “’tween you an’ me, you look like somethin’ the cat dragged in. Not sleep well again?”
Spy never answered that question. He ate the oatmeal in relative silence, and Engineer eventually sat at the table with his own oatmeal, along with freshly fried bacon and eggs, to join the commotion. It was a kind gesture, as much as Spy hated gestures like that; they always tended to have an underlying drive other than the supposed genuine kindness.
For that, Spy didn’t trust Engineer. But that wasn’t to say he didn’t appreciate it.
For once, Soldier wasn’t stirring up trouble when they all prepared for battle in the locker room. He was sitting with Scout and the doctor listening to Heavy talk about his life back in Louisiana with his siblings. Soldier seemed mildly interested, but at least he was quiet. No doubt he had some sedatives crushed into his rations this morning, but if he can still fight, it was fine with everyone else.
Spy didn’t dare touch the vents today. Now that the RED Medic knew, he couldn’t risk another private encounter, no matter how difficult traversing the main battlements were. As he made his way to the front lines, Spy’s mind raced as his chest felt tight.
Did Medic tell his team? Did he tell his team how he knew all of Spy’s weaknesses and manipulated him into getting an edge over the BLU team? He probably told that Russian giant that he followed behind like a loyal dog or a slave. Or both. Would Medic still try to taunt and stalk Spy on the battlefield to mess his game up?
Spy went through the first half of the battle without any run-ins with Medic. His performance, however, was suffering. He mostly focused on the enemy Engineer, Sniper, and Soldier, but couldn’t even get half of the kills he attempted. There was always something that was getting in the way. An uneven tiling of the floor causing him to trick, the crunch of shrapnel under his shoes, or the sound of his de-cloaking suddenly being much louder than before.
Spy groaned and rubbed his eyes after respawning yet again, trying to get himself to wake up. There were only two possibilities for his mistakes today: one, RED team was just getting smarter and trying to give him a challenge, or two, Spy’s lack of sleep worrying over one mistake was getting to him. He wished the first one was more likely to be true.
The middle point was the only one outside, and it was the worst one by far. The scorching Sun beat down on Spy’s skin, making him unpleasantly sweaty underneath his suit. Rockets and bullets flying every direction didn’t help the reputation of the area, at least for Spy.
He disguised himself as the enemy Pyro, picking up a discarded shotgun on the ground nearby for added realism. Both Snipers were in their nests carefully scanning the battlefield and trying to get shots on each other. The point was mostly obscured by some metal panels, but Spy could see the RED Scout was defending the point and trying to keep his head from view of the little blue dot that followed him. An easy kill- nothing Spy couldn’t handle.
He advanced towards the point swiftly, yet casually as to not raise suspicion. As he rounded the corner, a familiar sound filled his ears. A whirring, steady sound on a gun that weighed one hundred fifty kilograms and was dearly beloved.
Spy’s heart sank, because he caught a glimpse of Heavy’s bald head with his back to him on the point, not too far from Scout. And attached to said Russian was a crimson healing beam, connecting him and Medic together.
‘You ‘ave got to be kidding me,’ Spy thought, glowering his eyes with furrowed brows.
What was Medic going to do? They couldn’t just smile and wave at each other on the battlefield; they all knew what happened to Soldier and Demoman. Even if he did tell his team, Medic surely wasn’t that stupid. Then again, this also meant that Medic could still be on his high of trying to hunt down Spy with the sadistic, bleach white-toothed smile.
Spy clenched the knife behind his back as the trio on the point had their backs to him. He couldn’t miss this kill, not this time. He would much rather face his regrets than get yelled at by Soldier after the match for poor performance. Medic was closest to him, and he aimed for the patch of skin that the medigun backpack didn’t cover.
Spy happened to look above him right before connecting iron to flesh. There was a fast-moving object closing in on him, and the fluttering of a red kilt and the glint of a sword caught his eye. The sword was just as red as the man’s uniform, bloody from a fresh kill. Spy barely had any time to react before Demoman dropped out of the sky, landed on the dirt in front of Spy, and Spy saw the brand-new sword connect with his own neck.
Time slowed as Spy’s head disconnected from his body, bone crunching and blood spewing on the men on the point now turning around. The last thing Spy saw before his world went dark was Medic staring in awe, mouth agape as both he and his partner were spritzed with fresh blood.
Chapter 8: Little Blue Dot
If there's a will, there's a way to lie about it.
Sorry this was a day late I've had a lot to do lately and this wasn't my first priority.
Something was wrong. Very, very, very wrong.
Not once in recent memory has Spy been so suspicious of normalcy. Why wasn’t Medic hunting him down and playing with his food? Spy was basically a wounded deer at this point, and Medic was holding the shotgun, yet he barely gave Spy more than a passing glance this past week. He was glued to his Heavy at the hip once more, and only acknowledged Spy’s existence when shouting that he saw a shimmer of a cloak. For him, it was just another day of work.
No, there was something foul at play underneath this harmless exterior- there just had to be.
Then again, Spy could simply have been going mad. He had been losing more and more sleep with each passing night he spent lying awake, dreading that he would wake back up still alive and carrying his mistakes. He avoided his own team’s Medic like the plague; the flowing long coat and shiny boots set off too many warning signals.
When Spy wasn’t endlessly worrying, the rest of BLU wasted no time in reminding him how badly he was performing. Soldier was the main assailant, pelting Spy with insults and reprimands whenever he got the chance. Sniper and Engineer badgered him to make an excuse for this performance, warning that the Administrator would soon take notice if he didn’t shape up. Spy rolled his eyes whenever they did this; the old woman was the least of his issues right now.
While Sniper eventually peeled away, Engineer was still persistent. He offered to stick near Spy to watch his back and distract the ever-hunting RED Pyro. This was ultimately the biggest insult to Spy’s intelligence and skill as a professional. How dare that portly sap think Spy needed to be babysat? Spy could easily take care of himself. After all, he was bound to get kills in the double digits by this point.
After shooing off Engineer, Spy found himself alone today as usual. Determination to put his night with Medic behind him and move forward drove him on. He forced an extra spring into his step, building the façade of someone who had their life together. Today was going to be his day- something Medic couldn’t take from him.
That all fell apart, when one moment Spy was walking through a corridor, and the next he was grabbed and yanked into a broom closet off to the side. The door was slammed shut, and only the light from the outside illuminated the room. It was so sudden that Spy had to take a moment to even process what just happened. Though once his nerves caught up to his thought process, and he felt the strong hand gripping his arm, he began to panic.
“Unhand me!” Spy hissed before bothering to look at who grabbed him. He fumbled in his breast pocket for his balisong, though was quickly apprehended by a hand moving over his mouth and suddenly being pressed against a warm body.
“Shh, shh, I’m unarmed,” the assailant urged. Now Spy could taste the rubber that clasped over his lips, and was out of the holding in seconds. He finally got a grip on his knife and held it out towards Medic. Medic sighed and folded his arms. “I feel like ve have been in zhis situation a lot lately. Could you bozher to spice it up a bit, bitte?”
“’ave you gone mad?!” Spy hollered.
Medic actually had to think about that for a moment. “Depends on who you ask,” he said.
“N-No, I- ach!” Spy growled, “What is wrong with you? ‘ave you been waiting ‘ere for the ‘ole match?”
“Calm down, Blau,” Medic retorted, “I just vanted to… check up on my latest patient.” He laughed at his own joke softly and gave a reassuring look to Spy. The look that Spy hated; had Medic not taunted him enough?
Spy finally had the chance to observe the surroundings Medic dragged him into. It was a fairly cramped storage room with boxes and crates stacked in uneven patterns, all covered in a thick coating of dust and cobwebs. There were no lightbulbs; the only way to see in there was the light filtering from the singular filthy window perpendicular to the entrance. Spy had no idea this room even existed- he was a Spy for Heaven’s sake, he knew every inch of this facility.
“If you are looking for more of… you know… go ask your fat man,” Spy sneered, a chill running up his spine from memories flooding back in.
“No, I am not,” Medic said simply, dropping his smiling demeanor to a serious one, “And my relationship vith Heavy is… none of your business. Zhis is about you, not him; don’t change zhe subject.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Spy. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
Spy could feel his face begin to burn underneath the fabric of his mask. “What?” he inquired cautiously.
“My eyesight may be poor, but I see you on zhe field,” Medic said, “For somevone who vanted to forget zhis ever happened, you are having a difficult time showing it. You look like you’ve seen a ghost- not to mention zhat pitiful performance as of late. My team is laughing at you, you know; I can imagine your team is more on zhe angry side.”
Spy couldn’t deny that, but he refused to give Medic the satisfaction of being right. Spy played it casual and put his knife back in his inner suit pocket, swapping it out for his cigarette case. He lit himself a fresh one and took momentary solace in the familiar taste. After the brief comfort, he looked back at Medic.
“Spit it out, docteur,” Spy said, “What do you want? I ‘aven’t got all day.”
“It’s not vhat I vant,” Medic replied, “Vhat do you vant? Out of us.” He motioned to nothing in the air. “Out of zhis- zhis arrangement ve have.”
Spy grimaced. “Don’t say it like that,” he hissed.
“Vhat?” Medic said, smirking and rising to his feet to approach Spy. It was easy for Spy to forget how Medic was taller than him by a good few inches. He felt his throat run dry when the doctor was only inches away, arms folded. “Vould you rather me call it a ‘relationship?’”
“N… You know what I mean,” Spy said, “It was a one-time thing. I do not want anything more to do with you, and that is final.”
Medic chuckled, and Spy rolled his eyes in response. Unlike a certain someone, he wasn’t so eager to begin acting like acquaintances all of a sudden, or worse- friends. He was very, very close to killing Medic to end this conversation and push Medic out of his life so he could get back to being a valued member of BLU.
He slowly reached for his knife once more while Medic was distracted when something caught the corner of his eye. Something blue and shiny. He barely had to swivel his head to see the cyan dot tracing along the wall towards himself- no, Spy wasn’t the target.
In a spontaneous moment of motion, Spy roughly grabbed Medic’s shoulders and threw him down to the wood floor. Medic grunted as his knees made painful contact with the ground; Spy could almost hear the bruises beginning to form and caught himself silently wincing. Bewildered, Medic looked up to meet Spy’s gaze. Looking around, the dot was gone, and Spy’s blood froze.
He accidentally saved Medic’s life from his own teammate, and now Medic was kneeling before him like a dog. Medic blinked and forced a nervous laugh, hiding the obvious pain in his knees.
“You could have at least varned me,” Medic sneered, “Eager, I see.”
Spy was about to retort but shut himself and actually thought about his words beforehand. He was not about to admit to this pervert that he willingly saved his life. There had to be a lie out of this- there always was.
“Shut up,” Spy muttered under his breath, biting down on his cigarette.
“Vhat?” Medic asked, “Speak up. My ears are not as good as zhey used to be.”
“I said,” Spy replied, clearing his throat and lowering his eyes down at Medic, “Why don’t you put that mouth of yours to use?”
Medic pondered, ignoring the growing tent in expensive suit pants before him. “In zhe middle of battle?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow.
“Nobody comes here; there’s no reason to,” Spy said, cracking a smile as he finally figured out how to be on equal footing, “Besides, isn’t it about what I want?”
“I suppose I did say zhat,” Medic admitted. He went quiet as soon as he got to work, and Spy held Medic’s head of thick black hair steadily as he bit back any embarrassing sounds. They were both relatively silent for a while, which Spy wasn’t opposed to. He had to admit, Medic has definitely done this before.
“’ow about every Saturday before ceasefires?" Spy mused, "You will get yourself a room at that disgusting motel and signal for me to come in. At work, we remain strangers. I am not your friend, and I would like to keep it that way. Understand?”
Medic muttered something in a garbled language while his mouth was full, but the tone of voice implied mutual agreement.
Spy kept careful watch, but the tiny blue laser never returned; it was just him and Medic, alone in this compact space. The lazy bushman probably didn’t see a thing through those filthy windows, anyways. Not like he would expect someone to be in here.
He didn’t see anything, right?
Chapter 9: Papparazzi
Your Medic, my Medic, and a photography session.
Sooooo hey its been a while
I took about a month off from writing cause my mental state and real-life matters took precedence over writing fics. I had little energy to really do anything, so I decided it would be best I took time off. However, I'm happy to say I'm back to writing this fucked-up fic :)
It wasn’t until the following Tuesday evening when Sniper and Spy finally crossed paths. It began with Spy getting a hesitant, yet firm, knock on the door to his bedroom. He set down the book he was reading and raised his head, a smile finding its way on his lips. He sauntered to the door, casually folding his arms.
“Yes, who is it?” he asked.
“It’s… ah bugger, ya know who it is,” Sniper called from the other side of the door, “Can I ask ye something?”
Spy opened the door to Sniper, who was in his battle uniform minus the jacket and sunglasses. Sniper was rarely ever seen without the yellow-tinted lenses, though Spy thought it was for the best; sunken in hazel eyes with a chronic droopy expression didn’t exactly come off as attractive. There was a reason the team joked how he resembled a sloth.
“Of course,” Spy replied, “Who else ‘as such a raspy Australian accent?”
“Piss off, Spy,” Sniper grumbled, “Can I come in or not?”
“I suppose I can spare a moment,” Spy sighed, stepping aside, “Come in. But you will make it brief; we ‘ave a match tomorrow.”
Sniper shuffled into the room and listened as the door clicked shut and locked behind him. Now that the two of them were here alone, they had a similar realization that Sniper has never even see Spy’s room. Then again, no one really has.
It was heavily furnished with much nicer furniture than Mann Co. provided them, complete with a plush bed and thick curtains over the window. There was even Spy’s personal wine cabinet and two armchairs where the desk was supposed to be.
“Would you like a drink?” Spy offered, smiling with an uncharismatic smile of invitation, “Please, sit.”
“S’pose it won’t hurt,” Sniper agreed cautiously, “I can stand fer now; this’ll be quick.”
Spy shrugged. “Suit yourself, bushman,” he hummed, turning his attention to rummage around in the cabinet, “Now, what to drink?”
Sniper awkwardly shuffled his feet. “So…” he began, “You’re awfully cheerful for someone who was the bottom performer all of last week.”
“I prefer not to dwell on the past,” Spy said
“Must’ve still been real sick,” Sniper commented, “Didn’t see ya at all last Sunday, but the doc said you didn’t ‘ave a fever, either. What gives?”
“Perhaps it was the fast food Demoman brought in the night before. I am not accustomed to that processed garbage.”
Sniper snickered. “Wouldn’t call it ‘garbage.’ You just raised yourself on fancy wine and cheese.”
“Maybe so. Speaking of alcohol, are you more of a whiskey or bourbon man?”
“Whiskey ‘r bourbon?”
“Yes, that was the question.”
“Dunno. Usually just stick ta beer. Don’t ‘ave those ones fancy ones too much; too expensive to ‘ave when I live in a van.”
Spy finally stood to his feet once more, chuckling and blowing out a puff of smoke from the cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He got straight to pouring two glasses for himself and his guest. “Not even to indulge yourself?” he inquired, “’ow about a 1910 bottle of bourbon, un-opened since the day it was bottled.”
“Nah, I don’t believe in that indulgin’ stuff,” Sniper waved, “Never do when you grow up in rural ‘stralia.”
“Of course,” Spy said, turning back to Sniper to hand him a glass. He took a seat on one of the armchairs, stubbing his cigarette out on the near-overflowing ash tray on the side table. He took a long sip of the bourbon as the delicious burn coated his tongue. Sniper, on the other hand, absently swished the liquid in his glass.
“Speakin’ of indulgin’,” Sniper said, “You seem to been indulgin’ a lot in the RED Medic lately.”
Had he not been prepared, Spy would have either choked or spit out his expensive drink all over the furniture that was worth more than Sniper’s van. But for once, Spy was prepared. He calmly swallowed the remaining contents in his mouth, taking a deep breath to keep his composure.
“I ‘ave no idea what you’re talking about,” Spy replied nonchalantly. He flashed a fake smile up to Sniper, who only returned the gesture with a glare.
“Don’t play stupid with me,” Sniper snarled, “I saw you last week. Heard the rumors that the RED doc was good at suckin’ cock, but you just had to check for yourself, didn’t you?”
There was a brief moment where Spy’s heart sank. He knew this moment would come eventually, but the shock still stung all the same. To hear all of Spy’s anxieties and regrets be replayed back to his own ears, confirming that this was the course of reality now.
Spy took a deep breath and set his drink on the nearby table. He rose to his feet and gave Sniper a passing glance before fishing his cigarette case from the same table to light himself a fresh one. He took a second one from the compartment, which was the far right one on the bottom half; it was coercion, not a friendly gesture.
“I do not let the common folk ‘ave these so often,” Spy said, “You should be ‘onored.”
“Don’t change the bloody subject!” Sniper yelled, throwing the glass to the floor in a fit of rage. The expensive glass shattered and danced on the wood floor as bourbon seeped into the circular rug. Spy had to bite back the yelling and insults that would erupt if he wasn’t trying to keep his composure at the moment. “I saw you getting’ yer dick sucked in the middle of battle! Have you lost your bloody mind?! Old man Spoi forget that the REDs are the enemies? Wanna end up like Solly?”
Spy dragged his cigarette and reached back into his suit to put the case away. He sauntered over to his writing desk and fingered the padlock underneath it, mentally repeating the code through muscle memory. He pulled out a yellow-orange file from within it before shutting it once more, as if Sniper wasn’t ready to blow steam out of his ears five feet away from him.
“Are you even listenin’ to me?” Sniper said, “You don’t even care, do you? Think you can just treat ‘im like a brothel whore and get away with it?”
“Yes,” Spy finally responded as he turned back on his heel, “I do. Your point?”
“Well, that ain’t gonna work when I tell the team you’ve been sleepin’ with the enemy,” Sniper replied, “I’m endin’ this before this gets any worse, and I’d like to see you stop me, ya horny, stupid, bloody-“
“Before you finish that long-winded insult,” Spy interjected with a raised hand, “I ask that you ‘ear my offer.”
Sniper stepped back, eyebrow raised but guard still up. “Offer…?” he asked, “Yeah, no. I ain’t keepin’ this our ‘dirty little secret’ or anythin’. What, you wanna share your new toy? Sorry, but I’m no queer or traitor.”
“Just read this,” Spy urged, shoving the file into Sniper’s hands. He approached the window and glanced up into the night sky. Spy had to admit that after traveling the world for most of his life, there were few places with such clear skies. That was the one thing Spy would miss from the Badlands.
The sound of the file falling to the floor and papers scattering alerted Spy to pivot back to Sniper once more, a smile finding a place on Spy’s lips.
“No… no no no no,” Sniper was muttering in a whole new demeanor. He was running his hands through his short, scruffy hair, and he was trembling like a newborn calf. He was longing to drop the photo in his hand, but at the same time he couldn’t let go. Spy put an arm around his shoulders, intentionally positioning his cigarette towards Sniper’s face.
“I should ‘ave gone into photography, non?” Spy commented, motioning to the photo with his cigarette now between his fingers, “You would not believe ‘ow lucky I was to not be ‘eard. Then again, you were making a lot of noise yourself.”
All the pictures were of Sniper, save for one that was of the evidence from the scene of the crime. They were from two months ago, though an incident very similar to this had occurred before; that was the time Spy finally got it on camera.
The location was the BLU medbay when the doctor had gone out for the night with some of the other guys. Sniper managed to pick the lock on Medic’s connected bedroom door, though was not crafty enough to forget to leave the light off. Spy had hidden perfectly in the shadows beyond the pouring out light to take his photos.
In a photoset of seventeen pictures, Spy had documented Sniper masturbating on the framed photos of Medic’s tiny little wife- a red-headed woman with curvy features and a kind smile. Sniper’s perfect woman, apparently. He had used his shirt rag to wipe off the evidence, which Spy pulled out of the laundry the following day to document the evidence. Spy never had any reason to use this blackmail up until now, but Spy had dirt on everyone in the base; there was never anything wrong with preparing for the future’s uncertainty.
“H-H-How… did you get these?” Sniper questioned quietly, “This… this ain’t me. You got- got the wrong bloke ‘ere.”
“Oh, Mundy,” Spy taunted, “I know that ‘orrible ‘at of yours anywhere. Not another one like it in the next two-’undred miles.”
Sniper spent another several minutes staring his sin in the face until he breathed through his nose and tensed his shoulders. “Alright,” he said, “Let’s… let’s hear that offer.”
“Simple,” Spy assured, pulling away from Sniper and placing his cigarette back in his mouth, “I keep your secret, you keep mine. No strings attached.”
“That’s it? And why the bloody hell would I let you commit treason?”
“Well, I don’t think you would like to feel the wrath of docteur Falkner. ‘e ‘as some… temperament issues, you know.” Spy snubbed out his cigarette and gave a wicked smile, like a spider admiring the prey in its web. “But you didn’t ‘ear that from me.”
“You think I’m afraid of- of an old man with a smoking addiction?” Sniper laughed, fighting back anxiety, “I ain’t afraid of me old man. Ain’t afraid of you.”
“You ‘ave a point,” Spy admitted, “But, if Medic ‘ates you, then the Demoman will, then the ‘eavy- must I continue? Besides, friendly fire does not fix itself in respawn.”
This was something Sniper finally held his tongue to think about. He had nowhere to go, and no more cards to play. All the odds were stacked in Spy’s favor, as they should be. Sniper suddenly stuck his hand out but refused to meet Spy’s gaze, smothering his fury.
“Fine, you got a deal,” Sniper said in a hushed voice, “I ain’t gonna stop you minglin’ with the enemy. But, yer goin’ down this path by yourself. Don’t forget what happened to Soldier.”
Spy graciously took Sniper’s hand in a firm handshake. “Merci.”
The following day, in an undisclosed location and many, many feet underground, Miss Pauling was traveling down an elevator to go even farther down. Her long nails drummed anxiously on one of the three manila folders in her arms. While at this point appearances wouldn’t affect her keeping this job, she still found herself fixing her hair in the reflection of the metal cylinder.
When she made it to her destination, she took a deep breath before stepping out into the room. Her vision was bombarded by at least a hundred screens illuminating an otherwise pitch-black room, their reflections dancing off her glasses. In the middle of it all, an old woman whom Miss Pauling only knew as the Administrator, with her sagging features and graying hair, was constantly moving her hands across the control panel. She leaned into the microphone for a final time of the day.
“BLU team wins,” she announced, shriveled lips curling into a smile, “Good work, gentlemen.” The old woman’s smile faded when she glanced over her shoulder to look at Miss Pauling standing there. “This better be important, Miss Pauling. You’re hovering again. Spit it out.”
“O-Oh, right, that,” Miss Pauling sputtered, nearly dropping the file, “Um, well, y-you know how we had that little problem with the RED Demoman and the BLU Soldier a couple months ago?”
“Spit it out, girl,” the Administrator hissed, “I’m not getting any younger.”
“W-Well, we may have something worse on our hands,” Miss Pauling blurted out. This finally got the attention of the Administrator, as she was now interested enough to swivel around in her chair to face her assistant. Miss Pauling promptly handed the file to the Administrator, her throat dry as the desert above them. “It’s the RED Medic and BLU Spy this time.”
“So, they’ve become friends, too?” The Administrator groaned as she began to flip through the file individual files first, then moving on to the one with a large ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ stamp on it, “The last two were expensive enough to break up. Mr. Hale’s compliance was a mere stroke of luck.”
“Not… exactly,” Miss Pauling said, “I- we don’t think they’re friends, but they, um… have something far worse.”
Miss Pauling didn’t need to say any more when the Administrator reached the page with the photographed evidence from a security camera. She lightly crushed the file from where she held it, and her right eye twitched.
“They’re fornicating,” Miss Pauling explained.
“I can see what they’re doing, you stupid girl!” The Administrator barked and shut the file closed. She put her head in her hand and spun back around in her chain to re-adjust her cameras to the two main bases. “Please tell me this is a one-time accident.”
“Er, we’re not sure,” Miss Pauling replied, feeling like she was shrinking with each word she spoke as the Administrator’s blood boiled, “But it’s a very high possibility that they both enjoyed it and they, um, will no doubt do it again. Shall I put Mr. Hale on the line?”
The Administrator paused as she took a huff of her cigarette before snubbing it out on the overflowing ash tray. She gave it a moment’s thought before looking back up at the cameras to watch Spy and Medic enter back into their respective bases.
“Let them continue,” she finally ordered.
“W-What?” Miss Pauling argued, “But we broke the Demoman and Soldier up be-because you said that they’d turn against us. How is this okay?”
“Our last efforts obviously didn’t stick with the rest of the simpletons,” The Administrator explained as she lit herself a new cigarette, “Perhaps they just need a more… consequential example.”
Miss Pauling froze. “You don’t think…?”
“Trust me, Miss Pauling,” the Administrator sneered, tapping a bony finger on top of Medic’s file, “I know these men better than they know themselves. It’s only a matter of time.”
Chapter 10: Mr. Casanora and the Whale
Two months later...
“Going so soon?”
Spy barely gave Medic a backward glance as he tugged his pants back up his thin thighs, rolling his eyes. It had been two months since they started these bi-weekly meetings, and it always ended the same; Medic attempting to start idle conversation, and Spy ignoring him as he composed himself. Now, Spy wasn’t shy from conversation. Frankly, he couldn’t care less about what Medic had to say anyways.
Though Spy preferred it to be this way and imagined Medic felt the same. They definitely weren’t friends, just a pair of wandering souls who happened to collide in the heat of the moment. Life on the battlefield had returned to normal as they went back to fighting each other indiscriminately from the rest of their enemies, as if nothing ever changed. Trying to fit in quick sessions was also a mistake that they silently vowed to never try again due to the dangerously high risk of being caught.
As Spy lit himself a cigarette and was ready to leave, he heard Medic groan from opposite end of the bed. Not a groan of pleasure Medic that had cried into the mattress his head was pressed into- it was a groan of pain. Spy craned his neck towards the noise, despite breaking his own pact to not acknowledge Medic when their clothes were on.
Medic had pulled his pants up, and now he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, his torso bare and his back was to Spy. His hand was placed upon the middle of his back, lightly massaging the muscles between strong shoulder blades. Spy almost felt something that almost resembled pity, and he cleared his throat.
“What are you whining about?” he ordered.
Medic glanced over his shoulder, but not meeting Spy’s gaze, more or less focused on the air around Spy. “Es ist mein Rücken,” he said, “My back aches.”
Spy stifled a laugh. “I wore you out?” he asked, “The little thin Spy managed to bring you down?” He let out a cackle. “And you say I am no good at this.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Medic sighed, “It’s not zhat good. I’ve had better.”
“I’m sure you ‘ave.”
“I’m just not as young as I used to be.”
Spy furrowed his brow. “Hmph,” he said, “’ow old are you, anyways?”
“Fifty,” Medic replied quickly. He met Spy’s gaze, his icy-blue irises behind round frames carefully observing. “You don’t look so young, yourself.”
A blush found its way to Spy face and he swiveled back around. “Non, I suppose I am not,” he mused.
Medic snickered. “Zhere’s no need to be embarrassed about your age, Blau,” he reasoned.
“I told you we are not doing those nicknames!” Spy snapped back to face Medic.
Medic put his hands up innocently. “Vell, excuse me for making conversation. Besides, you can’t be just ‘Spy’ to me; my team’s Spy is zhe vone I know as ‘Spy.’” A mischievous glint shimmer in his aged eyes. “Unless… you vant to tell me your real name.”
“Over my dead body,” Spy hissed. Forcing himself to get the final word, he stormed out of the motel to head back to his base. Medic could deal with his back pains himself. As he got into his car, Spy let out a chest-rattling cough as he held his cigarette between his trembling fingers. The fit was over in a minute, and Spy rushed to leave behind this disgusting lot until the next pre-ceasefire Saturday.
Spy woke up the following morning well rested and was greeted by a full kitchen as he walked into the room. Heavy was making breakfast at the stove- chicken and rice. Just like how his mother made back home, as he pridefully claimed. Engineer was also at the counter, whisking what Spy assumed was pancake batter with his mechanical left hand. The stocky man turned and smiled when Spy entered.
“Well, glad you decided to join us this mornin’,” he greeted him.
“I felt I should ‘umor you all today,” Spy said sarcastically.
“Oh, don’t be such a sourpuss,” Engineer replied, “Sit down an’ have some coffee.”
Spy huffed and scanned the rest of the room to see that nearly the whole team was here. Scout, Pyro and Demoman were sitting at the table waiting for food like hungry children. The only ones who were absent today were Soldier and Medic, the former doing his morning exercises and the latter never joined ceasefire meals.
Surprisingly, Sniper was leaning against the wall absently sipping a cup of coffee. He glared at Spy from behind his shades, and Spy returned the gesture. Their promise of mutual destruction still held true after all this time, and neither had spoken a word about their current relationships. However, that didn’t mean they had to like each other. Spy took his seat next to Scout, which was only due to that seat being the only one that Spy could keep an eye on his skinny teammate.
“Hey, hey, there’s Mr. Casanora!” Scout said, punching Spy in the arm.
“It’s Casanova, imbécile,” Spy hissed, pouring himself a cup of coffee with cream and sugar which Scout nearly made him spill, “And what are you talking about?”
“C’mon, man, we all know where you been goin’ every other Saturday,” Scout chided with a grin.
Spy could feel his stomach drop down to his knees and he sputtered the coffee he was sipping. This brought him into a raging coughing fit and Pyro even began to slap his back as Spy covered his mouth to protect his suit getting stained from what came back out of his mouth. Blinking back tears, he gave Scout a look of confusion.
“What- what are you implying?” he asked. He could have sworn he saw Sniper smirk from the corner of his vision.
“Snipes told us yesterday,” Scout replied, “Bout where you go all da time.”
Now Spy looked at Sniper, his fear turning into pure rage. He shot daggers at Sniper with his stare, who looked too smug for a man about to die. How dare that filthy, lying bushman reveal his secret? Spy was already reaching for the knife in his pocket, rules about friendly fire be damned.
“So… when we gonna meet the lucky lady?” Engineer asked from the stove, snapping Spy out of his aggressive trance.
“Eh?” Spy muttered, knitting his brows together, “Pardon moi?”
“Your new girlfriend, man!” Scout said, “Said you were head ovah heels for this chick. What’s her name? What’s she like?” Scout flexed his pathetically thin arm with a cheeky grin. “She got a hot sista lookin’ for a new stud in her life? I’m sure I could get her in on all dis.”
Spy had felt less exposed when having rough, hurried sex the night before as opposed to all of the eyes in the kitchen on him in that moment. They were all eager to hear about this mystery woman that was apparently in his life like a gaggle of gossiping high schoolers. At least in high school, the threat of treason for dating someone from the other side wasn’t looming over their heads.
Spy cleared his throat. “If she did, I’m sure she would look somewhere else,” he responded cooly, “Her name is Me… lissa. Melissa. We meet at a crossroads every ceasefire, as she’s not from around here.”
“She ain’t from Teufort?” Scout asked, “How’d you two meet then?”
“We met at a bar a couple months ago,” Spy fibbed, “I swept ‘er off ‘er feet, and we ‘ave formed a comfortable relationship. A charming woman, quite intelligent for her rural upbringing.”
Engineer nudged in between Spy and Scout to set down a large stack of fresh pancakes, which Scout, Pyro, and Demoman began to tear into. He gave a small smile down to Spy, despite being a bit too close for comfort as the hungry patrons threatened to tear his mechanical hand from its sockets.
“So, um, what’s she look like?” he asked quietly.
Spy had to think a moment to avoid even alluding to someone looking like the RED Medic. “She’s… she ‘as red ‘air,” he said, “The freckles on her skin resemble the sky. She is a bit… em… larger than most women. Toutefois, cela ne réduit pas mon attirance.”
With his mouth full, Scout burst out with howling laughter. “Holy shit!” he laughed, “You’re a friggin’ chubby chaser! You- da man dat is all about ‘ladies’ and ‘refined tastes’ caught himself a whale. Dat’s too rich!” As he shouted, a piece of food fell out of his mouth and back onto his place. Spy frowned in disgust.
“Close your mouth, boy!” Engineer snapped, smacking Scout upside the head which made him begin to choke, “Laugh anymore and you’re gonna go an’ choke on my good cookin’.”
Despite Engineer’s reprimanding, it didn’t stop the whole kitchen from bursting into a roar of laughter. Spy sheepishly hunched his shoulders and continued to drink his coffee to ignore the taunts around him. The moment he dared to glance up, a pair of yellow-tinted glasses were looking back at him from across the room. Sniper shrugged with a forced confident smile and sipped his own drink, reveling in the chaos he caused.
Oh, how Spy loathed his fellow support class.
Chapter 11: The Opposite of Foreplay
Quite a mood-breaker, wouldn't you say?
Sorry I kinda disappeared for like a month. The holidays and work really caught up to me and I wanted to spend time with family instead of writing. Also I may or may not continue doing weekly updates cause I can never follow such a schedule (esp since school is almost starting again).
Anyways here's a new chapter.
Spy couldn’t have been more glad that the ceasefire was coming tomorrow, which meant he could take his stress out on Medic. Sniper had been more than annoying lately- he was practically taunting him at every turn. Had Spy’s job description not included being a master at lying, that little rumor about Spy’s new “girlfriend” would have destroyed his career. That didn’t stop it from being a major roadblock in his web of lies.
To add to the façade, Spy put on one of his better suits and bought a large bouquet of roses from town the day before. The card attached read, ‘To my dearest Melissa.’ It was a shame, though; such a beautiful set of flowers would be thrown out the second Spy reached his destination. He didn’t want Medic getting any funny ideas that they were more than mutual stress-relievers.
Champagne also went nicely for a four-month girlfriend’s date. With the bottle from his personal wine cabinet in one hand and the bouquet in the others, Spy moved quickly to leave the base. Unfortunately, he still had to pass by the rec room where the usual game of cards was being held, featuring Scout, Heavy, Engineer, and Soldier.
Scout was the first to notice Spy and whistled at him. “Ayyy, look’it you, all dolled up!” he cooed, “Got a hot date tonight?”
“I ‘ave no idea what gave you that impression,” Spy responded dryly, rolling his eyes. “You truly are a genius.”
“C’mon man, just trying ta be nice,” Scout said, pouting.
“I do not need validation from a man who looks like ‘e still ‘asn’t grown ‘is first facial hair yet.”
“You wanna friggin’ go?” Scout yelled, bolting up from his seat. He was ready to go give Spy a piece of his mind, but Engineer grabbed his thin arm and forced him back down.
“You go enjoy your date, partner,” Engineer said, giving a small smile to Spy and for once not having his goggles on, flashing his hazel eyes. “Hope… hope she loves the flowers; they’re mighty pretty.”
“Merci, laboreur,” Spy gave his thanks, leaving the men to their game and Scout grumbling a string of curses to himself. Soldier, sitting his shoulders hunched and oddly quiet for once, watched Spy leave his field of view down the hallway before setting his card down.
Spy stopped holding his breath once he reached his car, a wave of relief washing over him. He could see Sniper’s van parked in the distance, the lights shining from inside. Curse Sniper for putting him in this position and curse himself for playing along. Then again, it was better than being a traitor.
The champagne and the roses were hastily tossed into the back seat where they would sit until they would be thrown out before returning to the base. Spy lit himself a cigarette, cracked the window, and sped down the desolate road.
They went into the same position as always, with Medic being smothered into the side of the mattress as Spy forcibly held him down by his hair and back. It was better this way, Spy told himself. He didn’t particularly want to see Medic’s face, anyways.
Though while Spy was lubing himself up, he ended up dry heaving. Initially, it was brushed off as a momentary cough before he could insert himself into Medic. But it wasn’t momentary; a dry cough turned into a wet one. Spy had to back away and cover his mouth as his chest rattled with every wheeze.
Medic craned his neck back and used his elbows as leverage, furrowing his brows at the sudden loss of contact. He observed as Spy was wrecked by the sudden coughing fit, so much so he reached for the night stand to put his glasses back on.
“Are you alright, Blau?” he asked.
“I… I’m fine,” Spy wheezed, shuffling on his pants to at least have some decency as he rushed to the tiny bathroom, “E-Excusez-moi.” He barely made it to the sink before continuing to cough his lungs out into the porcelain dish. Soon enough a large wad of phlegm lodged itself out of Spy’s throat and into the sink. Just looking at it made Spy feel nauseous. He reached over to turn the faucet on to flush down the evidence.
“Vait, let me see!” Medic, who was suddenly behind Spy with his own pants on, called out as he shoved Spy aside. Spy temporarily lost his balance and fell onto the toilet seat. He glared at Medic.
“Just so you know,” Spy hissed, “This is not part of the foreplay. Don’t tell me this is a fetish for you.”
“Vhat are you talking about?” Medic snapped, waving a hand in Spy’s general direction, “I’m a doctor, and zhis is a medical zhing. Get your mind out of zhe gutter!” He squinted his eyes and leaned into the sink to get a closer look at the dark yellow glob sitting on the drain. He met Spy’s gaze once again, now showing concern. “How long has zhis been going on?”
Spy scratched the back of his neck through his mask. “Erm… I can not recall,” he admitted, “A long time, I believe. But it ‘as been more persistent, as of late.”
“Vell, did it start vhen you began smoking?”
“I do not remember ‘aving it before I started smoking. But I never was too bothered by it; it’s not like I can die from it in this job.”
Medic scratched his chin, and Spy noticed that both of their erections were basically nonexistent now. He was the first to rise from his seat and move back to the main room where he left his coat. He supposed he could skip out on sex tonight if it meant Medic was going to play professional now.
“Blau-“ Medic began, poking his head through the door frame.
“Non,” Spy retorted, “I do not want to ‘ear your medical opinion. I am fine.”
“Fine,” Medic huffed, folding his arms, “I vould suggest you at least talk to zhe BLU doctor about zhis. Zhat cough has been getting vorse.”
Spy snorted with laughter and sat on the bed as he began to put his shoes back on. “Me, talk to my team’s Medic about smoking dangers?” he said, “Please, don’t ‘umor me, docteur. That man smokes more than I do, and people say I am like a chimney. I’ve seen ‘im go through more packs in a week that most people go through in a month.”
Medic raised an eyebrow. “Your Medic smokes?” he reconfirmed, “Even vhile treating patients?”
“I’m more surprised you don’t. You would need it, too, if you ‘ad to deal with our Soldier every day.”
“Smoking ruins zhe body, like throwing mud on a beautiful painting.”
Spy rolled his eyes with a grin. “Whatever you say,” he mused.
“Zhough, I do understand zhe stress,” Medic agreed, sitting down next to Spy on the bed, “Zhat silly little feud last year made our Demoman lose all of his credibility. He’s compliant during checkups, sure, but all he does is mope around zhe base and drink himself silly. So sad.”
Spy shot a dirty look when Medic sat so close to him but ignored it as he went to put on his other shoe. “I can imagine,” he said.
“I do vish I could help him somehow,” Medic sighed, rubbing his forehead.
“Hmph,” Spy grumbled, standing to his feet, “Since we are being nosy... are you even a real doctor?”
Medic looked at Spy like he just had a live bird come out of his mouth. “Vhat is zhat supposed to mean? Of course, I’m a doctor.”
“Really?” Spy raised an eyebrow with a sly smile, “Well, there are rumors that you are a quack, and you don’t seem to live by any… normal standards of medical practice.”
Medic sat back on his hands on the bed, the cheap mattress creaking, “It’s a long story, and you' never vant to talk to me anyvay.”
Spy quickly checked his watch. He had barely been here for more than thirty minutes; if he went back to the base now the team would think his fake girlfriend had dumped him. Not like there was much else to do around here anyways besides go to the strip club next door (which wasn’t exactly the most appealing option) anyway.
Perhaps he’ll amuse Medic just this once.
“I ‘ave time,” he stated, sitting back down on the bed and lighting himself a cigarette. Medic scooted a few spots away and scrunched his nose at the obnoxious fumes. “Amuse me.”
Medic gave a toothy grin to Spy and took a deep breath. “So, it all started in Rottenburg vhere I lived most of my adult life…”
By now both parties were laughing- Medic much louder than Spy, but both of them were enjoying the story. “And- and vhen zhe patient voke up,” he told, “His skeleton vas missing, and zhe doctor vas never heard from again!” The two took another break to get their giggling out before Medic caught his breath to finish his story. “And zhat, my friend, is how I lost my medical lisence and vent on to a life on zhe run from zhe law.”
Spy wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “I will admit,” he said, “You may be completely insane, if that story is true, but you do know ‘ow to tell it. I ‘aven’t laughed that hard in… a very long, long time.”
“Of course, it’s true,” Medic assured, “You know, zhis vas fun. I never get to tell my stories on zhe base. Zhey never vant to listen to me.”
Spy raised an eyebrow. “Really? You strike me as a sociable person, not some shut-in like my Medic.”
“No, I don’t seclude myself like zhat ray of sunshine. But, alas, I believe zhe others are afraid of me. I don’t blame zhem, zhough; it’s natural to be afraid of science you don’t understand, and of zhe man doing it.”
“You’re a scientist? You said you used to be a surgeon.”
“Vell, I guess I could call myself zhat. I love to experiment on zhe human body to pass zhe time, like ‘ow some people take up painting or vhatever, you know?”
Spy chortled. “I doubt they are the same thing,” he said.
“Vell, you get it. Zhough really, ve should talk more. Just to fill zhe void after you finish in me and ve are getting dressed, perhaps.”
A bite of fear tugged at Spy’s insides. He shouldn’t be talking to him anymore, and he shouldn’t even be talking now. He wasn’t ready for the Administrator to find out he’s been talking to the enemy. He definitely didn’t want to become like the angry Soldier or the mopey Demoman.
Then again, they were friends... but he and Medic were not. Definitely not friends.
It wouldn’t hurt to finally have someone to talk to in the midst of this miserable contract, right?
Chapter 12: Snippets
Random points in time in the lives of two business partners.
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
“You gave our team a lot of trouble today,” Medic commented as he slipped on his underwear for decency’s sake, “I forgot how much of a nuisance you can be vhen herr Engineer tries to try somezhing new.”
“Guilty as charged,” Spy admitted, “Though I do give credit where it is due. You are becoming better at detecting me.”
“Maybe you should become less predictable, zhen,” Medic suggested, “Your technique is becoming stale, Blau.”
“Bite me, nurse,” Spy hissed, but with a smile on his lips as he shook his head. After cleaning himself off in the bathroom, he dressed himself in everything but his suit jacket and shoes. He assumed Medic would be doing the same before going their separate ways. However, when he turned around to look at Medic at the opposite side of the bed, the doctor was burrowing himself under the covers. “Not going back tonight?”
“Ah, no,” Medic replied, shrugging with an air of casualness- a common attitude he had in this relationship- as he adjusted/ a pillow to support his back, “I told Mi… mein Heavy zhat I vould be out late tonight.”
Spy raised an eyebrow. “Why would ‘e care?” he queried, “You said you were not dating. Are you cheating on ‘im?”
Medic raised his hands in his own defense. “Calm down, calm down,” he said, “Ve are not together, but ve are still… ach, vhat’s zhe vord in English? Vhen you are friendly but not friends?”
Spy scratched the stubble that wasn’t covered by the blue fabric of his balaclava. “Erm… des relations de travail… an acquaintance?”
“Acquaintance, right! Yes, our fields of vork tend to overlap so much. Is it really zhat much of a surprise zhat ve tend to grow closer in a business relationship?”
“No, but you said your team avoided you not too long ago.”
“He’s zhe exception. He tends to avoid zhe others as vell; he may be loud, but he’s quite cold and distant, keeps to himself more often zhan not. But he makes for good conversation vhen vorking.”
“If you say so.”
“Vhat? Your Heavy and Medic classes do not talk?”
Spy snorted as he pulled out a cigarette for himself. He offered one to Medic, but the other rejected the offer. “Oh, they talk, alright. They talk only to argue with each other every chance they get. A sociable, friendly ‘eavy and a reclusive, bitter Medic- I’m surprised they ‘aven’t killed each other at this point.”
“Zhat’s a shame,” Medic sighed, shifting further under the thin covers, “You’re free to go vhenever. I’m going to stay here for tonight.”
Spy thought for a moment as he rolled the cigarette between his fingers. He really didn’t have anywhere to be tonight, unless he actually wanted to listen to his team yell over poker. He sat down on top of the covers next to Medic, who smiled at him.
“Hey, give zhose back!” Medic yelped as soon as Spy swiped his glasses from the night stand before he could reach them.
“You’re farsighted?” Spy asked.
“Yes, very much so. You vear glasses, too?”
“Oui, though I prefer contacts. But I ‘ave a pair for reading.” Spy slipped the round frames onto his face and blinked at his world being significantly blurrier. He gave a little pose as they both sat naked on the bed, Spy with his mask on. “’ow do I look, docteur?”
Medic squinted in Spy’s general direction. “I… have no idea.”
“’ave you… before we met, ‘ave you been with men before?”
Medic paused for several long moments to consider. “No. But… I vanted to. You?”
Spy rolled onto his side and turned off the bedside lamp, pretending to go to sleep. Medic never got his answer. He fell asleep not long after, still exhausted and his hips still aching.
“I need to start bringing medication vith me,” Medic mused.
“You ‘hurt that bad?” Spy sneered, “Why, I’m flattered that my technique is so effective. Merci.”
“Vell, vhy don’t you try it vone night?”
The skin underneath Spy’s balaclava suddenly got very, very warm. “… No, I like our current arrangement.”
“Zhen don’t make fun of me for hurting, schweinhund. I’m old.”
“Your body doesn’t look old.”
Medic jabbed Spy in the ribs, and Spy just laughed it off to mask the bruise that was probably beginning to form.
“Are you married?”
“Neither am I. Vell, I vas, but zhat vas temporary and only to appease our families.”
“Now, I ‘ave ‘ad lovers in the past, but marriage is nonexistent in my old agency. No time for it.”
“My Spy has zhat BLU Scout’s mother for his lover, you know.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. ‘e’s a pompous ass’ole, always ‘as been.”
“Ah, he vonce mentioned you two used to vork together.”
“Really, now? What else ‘as ‘e said about me?”
“’ow is the Demoman? Your Demoman, that is.”
“As fine as somevone vith severe depression can be. Zhat’s a stupid question.”
Spy shrugged. “I wanted to see if ‘e was the same as Soldier.”
“Ve should buy zhem einige Prostituierte from downtown so zhey can stop being in zheir post-breakup depression.”
“Maybe. But I don’t care for Soldier, particularly. Why should I spend money on ‘im?””
“Vell, zhat’s a bit cruel, vouldn’t you say?”
“Says the man who laughs when ‘e cuts someone open and collects spare body parts for when the battle is over.”
“Are ve… friends?”
Spy hesitated to answer. “Non.”
“Are ve enemies?”
“Vell, vhatever ve are… I’m glad to finally have some company.”
Medic turned over to snuggle himself to sleep, beginning to snore within minutes. Spy stared up at the ceiling intently, as if waiting for an answer to fall into his lap. The air was cool outside, and the only comfort Spy had was being under the thin protection of dirty motel sheets. He glanced at Medic, but mentally slapped himself before he did anything stupid, then turned his back to the other bed occupant.
‘Me too,’ he thought before his eyes became too heavy to keep open and he fell asleep. In the morning he left before Medic was awake, gently shutting the door as he left.
Not much to say this time. Just hope y'all are having a good week.