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Birds of a Feather

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“Archimedes!" Medic scolded, rushing over to the mischievous dove and scooping him out of the plate of organs. He picked out bits of dried flesh from between the bird’s feathers as he walked his pet back to the large cage in the corner of the infirmary. The door to the cage was wide open. Medic sighed, “I supposed I should be proud of you for being to smart,” and placed the dove back inside.

Two days later, Medic found Archimedes in a jar of plasma and spare eyeballs. Again, the cage door was left wide open. For a few short minutes Medic believed himself to be the culprit, but he quickly dismissed the idea, Medic was too careful. He chalked it up to a bird too curious for his own good, and made a mental note to double check the bolt lock before bed.

The next morning, all of his doves were out, roosting along the power lines and rafters above his operating table, downy feathers drifting down like snow. Medic’s jaw clenched as he went to a closet for the broom.

“Daddy is not pleased,” he growled, shaking the bristle end at the doves until they scattered toward their cage. He frowned at the mess on the ground, started sweeping up feathers and droppings. With the amount of feathers it seemed like the birds had molted every last bit of plumage. Medic pushed piles together and with a broad sweep revealed a single red footprint.

He knelt down, mind racing, fingers brushing through the dried blood. Who had been in his infirmary? For what purposes? What did they take? He inspected the footprint, too small for Heavy, Soldier, or Demoman. Too large for Scout, too narrow for Pyro. He landed on Spy, the most likely candidate. Desperate for more information on his team mates, anything to hold against them, anything that could aid him if need be.

The doctor stood up stiffly, lip curled. His infirmary was his sanctuary, he hardly liked patients in there, let alone inquisitive spies. He canvased the room, checking every inch for missing files or tampered instruments. What he found was a sloppily cleaned up mess, wads of bloody gauze and a puncture blood bag shoved into the bottom of a trash can, and a slight pink tinge to a small section of the linoleum floor.

It was unlike Spy to be so unprofessional.

That day Medic was cold toward the Spy. Refusing to heal him, turning his back on his desperate pleas, shooting glares in his direction. He glowered at the assassin while in the respawn room, and flat out ignored him over dinner. However, Medic felt childish, acting so passive aggressive without any actual proof of the man’s misdeed. So, it was over after dinner coffee that Medic reached for his bone saw and grabbed Spy.

It was difficult with the man beating on his face and back, shrieking for him to stop. But years of practice with unwilling patients left Medic with a record two minute amputation time. He casually lifted the foot, shoe and tattered suit pant still attached, and walked out of the kitchen. He heard Scout balk over Spy’s screams, “And that’s why I don’t ever fuck around with Medic.”

Back in his infirmary, Medic placed Spy’s severed foot over the print on the floor. He was displeased to find it didn’t match, it left him with no clue as to who the culprit was. His only option was to stake the place out.

Three nights and no activity and his performance on the battlefield suffered for it. He was dead tired, a shadow of a beard growing in and dark circles drooping under his eyes. It did not help his mood one bit. He snapped so sharply at Sniper that he scared the man off.

“I’ll just…grab a medkit, don’t worry about it, mate.” The Australian backed off as if he were facing a wild animal.

The night after that Medic was infuriated to find he had fallen asleep, and even worse, that all of his doves were freed once again. In a fit of immature rage, Medic kicked the office chair he had been sleeping in to the ground.


He thought about Scout, about his proclivity for pranks. Or the slick and slimey enemy, searching for secrets in the wrong place. Or worse yet, a hungry Heavy with an unusual pallet for opportunistic meals after being raised in one of the most unforgiving environments. Medic did a headcount of his doves, relieved to find all his pets there.

In an effort to recover, Medic went to bed. He herded all his birds back into their cage, dropped half a bag of seed in there as incentive to stay put, then set about getting ready for bed. He drew the blinds shut against the early morning sun, disrobed to his boxer shorts, and collapsed into a bed that, under normal circumstances was uncomfortable, but after a night in a rigid chair, was bliss.

The next time he awoke it was dark out. He groped blindly for his clock and found the time to be two in the morning. He groaned, “You could not have possibly slept this long…”

He shut down feelings of guilt after remembering the week’s sleepless nights. The guilt was quickly replaced with regret when his stomach growled. Not only would his sleep schedule be hell to fix, but his diet was going to be thrown off as well.

There was a clatter outside his door and a softly whispered curse.

Medic’s hands flew to his nightstand, scrambling for his glasses. His chest swelled with feelings of triumph. Finally he’d catch the perpetrator and he’d make an example out of them. Cruel experiments, or missing essential organs, or hands cut off, like they did to thieves in the old testament. Anything to deter another dimwitted offender.

He ripped open his bedroom door, clad only in his boxers and glasses, trusty bone saw raised. He had expected several scenarios, Spy stealing medical files still a frontrunner. But even Soldier with a misguided attempt at playing doctor was farther up on the list than what he found. Sniper, Archimedes perched on his fingers, with three doves resting on his shoulders, cooing gently at the, “Pretty birds, yes you are.”


Sniper could not drop the bird in surprise, as it was a creature with a mind and priorities of its own. And currently, Archimedes’s first priority was snatching the meal worm out of Sniper’s fingers, even if that meant a nasty nip to the marksman’s forefinger.

“What are you doing?” Medic’s tone was a mixture of confusion, annoyance, and genuine curiosity.

The Australian stood there silently and still for a good moment before he shrugged and muttered, “I like your birds.”

The doctor didn’t know what to make of the simple statement. For the past few weeks he had been on edge, wondering worst case scenarios and lobbing off feet, literally losing sleep over this little mystery. He should have felt angry. Yet, looking at the slim man, the picture of tranquility with doves surrounding him, Medic could not muster a single feeling of rage.

It was strange. Medic and Sniper hardly interacted, on the field or off. For the most part, Sniper was always too far away for Medic to heal. Their only interactions included the occasional nod in a vague direction from Medic when he saw that Sniper had headshot a potential threat. Even in the the respawn room or during off hours in the base Sniper was so taciturn and aloof that Medic was certain he’d never spoken a word to him.

Which is why he should be angry. He should be livid that this back country, illiterate, gunman had the audacity to break into his infirmary at night to play with his birds. And make a mess on top of it.

The sight of Sniper was too earnest, he’d never seen the Australian look more natural and…appealing before. Medic felt his mouth go dry while taking in the comparison between Sniper’s rough hands and the soft, angelic feathers of his doves. The way the corners of the man’s mouth quirked upwards toward a smile he was fighting. He knew how to handle the animals, an action that provided more insight to Sniper’s long life among nature than any hunting story he could have told.

All this made Medic painfully aware that he was clad only in his boxer shorts.

On the upside, Sniper appeared to be completely focused on the animals. Slowly, Medic planned his move, he should at least get some compensation from Sniper’s intrusion. A few steps placed Medic right by Sniper’s side, he glanced down at Archimedes, still perched on the assassin’s hand and greedily snatching mealworms from the other.

“You know, you could have just asked,” Medic said.

Sniper licked his lips, eyes still on Archimedes. Again he shrugged, “Didn’t wanna bother you,” he made sure that the other doves got their share of treats, “‘Sides, would you have let me?”

“Absolutely not, not without a price anyway…” Medic let the idea hang in the air, let Sniper come to his own conclusions.

“Well, I can introduce you to Hoots if you want,” Sniper offered, oblivious to Medic’s come on.

The doctor’s face fell, but he was not deterred. He stepped closer, and gracefully slid his hand atop of Sniper’s to sweep Archimedes away. He pinched the bird’s wing between two fingers and pulled out to show off the flight feathers.

“Aren’t they beautiful creatures?” Medic purred, eyes on Sniper.

Sniper nodded, “Useful too. Dad’s a farmer, used to have a whole mess of them, cause they eat weed seeds as much as regular seeds, real help they were. Remember wantin’ more, cause I didn’t want to spend my Saturdays pickin’ weeds.”

Medic ignored the unnecessary backstory and moved forward. “Yes, but they’re a magnificent specimen, gorgeous, smart, rugged.”

At that last word, Medic took a downy feather from Archimedes and dragged it down Sniper’s cheek, along his stubble and finally letting it drift lazily to the floor.

Sniper seemed surprised. “We’re not talking about birds anymore are we?”

“We can talk about cocks if you’d like,” Medic smirked.

Sniper gulped, “I just… I just came here to see the birds, I don’t-”

Medic inched closer until he cut the man off with a kiss. At first, Sniper didn’t respond, but slowly his lips parted and moved back against Medic’s, soon his arms were on the doctor’s hips, and his mouth allowed a tongue in. It was all completely out of the blue, but not unwelcome. As fast as Medic had kissed him, clothes were coming off. Sniper’s vest was throw back, his button up ripped open and forced off. The doctor had barely unzipped and pushed Sniper’s pants down before his mouth was on his cock.

“Ahh god,” Sniper hissed. His hand gripped the back of Medic’s head while his cock was enveloped in a warm, wet mouth, a velvet tongue lapping at his underside. It had been so long since his dick had been inside anything other than his own oil slick fist, and Medic’s overzealousness already had him hard and close to the edge.

Sniper gripped harder, a hand in Medic’s hair and one on his shoulder. Wings flapped around them, the birds roosting on his shoulders interrupted by Sniper’s spasms and low curses. Medic’s mouth opened wider and took in a few more inches, Sniper moaned deeply, “Doc, that’s…fuck!”

Medic’s strong tongue licking up and down his cock was good enough, but to have his dick buried to the hilt in Medic’s mouth was an ecstasy on its own. He sucked so well, long and hard pulls that eased his orgasm closer and closer until Sniper’s fingers were so tight his knuckles turned white. He could feel the pleasure sparking down to his knees, making his legs shake just a little bit, while his cock throbbed, spilling cum down the back of Medic’s throat.

Sniper had to sink down to the floor to recover. Panting and swallowing, trying to shake off the last jolts of electricity buzzing through his legs. He landed crosslegged across from Medic who was still kneeling, his own erection tenting his boxers. The doctor had a broad smirk on his face, delighted to see the end results of his handiwork.

With the commotion over, Archimedes and a few other doves fluttered over. Many took and interest in Sniper, expecting more mealworms, but this was the first time that the Australian could not give the creatures his full attention.

“Next time you want to play with the birds just ask,” Medic said, his smirk drifting into a half smile.

Sniper returned the look and replied, “Same apply to a blow job?”

Medic sat back off of his knees, hand slipping under the waistband of his boxers. “That depends, are you going to return the favor?”

Sniper shooed away Archimedes as his climbed over the doctor, wholly interested in cocks over doves.