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sips---tea · 2 years ago

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Travels // tf2 sniper x reader

Warning: one shot turn nsfw, swearing. I didn’t edit it, so there will be mistakes

You sat, bored, in the passanger seat of Sniper’s beat up camper van. You had been on the road since the day before and would not get to your destination until the day after. The road stretched endlessly in front of the van and you closed your eyes, wanting to look at something more interesting than the grey tarmac and the plain outback.

You where travelling to the next assignment place, the administrator had helicopter travelling arrangements for everyone but one. Seeing as sniper was already driving to the location, a name was pulled of a hat to go with him, unfortunately it was yours. ‘What bloody luck’ you thought, imagining that the rest of your team mates where already settled and ordering pizza.

“Oi, wake up” a voice said, pushing you. You jumped as Sniper chuckled at your response. “We are stopping for the night” You nodded, watching the sun slowly set as sniper pulled over and stopped the car.

“You could have been a little gentler” you said as the van came to an abrupt stop. “She’s used to it” Sniper said, tapping the front of the dash with his hand. ”There’s a good girl” he said to the car. You side eyed him at his weird display of affection and got out of the passenger seat. You stretched, your whole body complained at the length of time you had been sitting for. For a moment you enjoyed the fresh air before turning and entering the main part of the camper van.

“What food to you have” you ask sniper as he unlocked the main part of the caravan.

“Cans” Sniper said. “Oi don’t want to go hunting” he took his hat, placing it on the hook on the back of the door while you tried to find the cans he was referring to.

“Crocodile chunks?” you ask, taking the can in question out.

“It’s nutritious” sniper said, taking his jacket and shirt off, you look away, concentrating on reading the can’s information. You feel a figure behind you as sniper reaches over you to grab a packet of some kind of tea. You give him a tentative look as he places his kettle on the stove, he was wearing a white vest, showing off his tanned arms, they where quite muscly and tanned which surprised you, you had taken sniper to have quite a lanky build. Sniper looked at you staring at him and gave you a wink, you looked away, embarrassed and flushing pink as sniper smirked. You focused on finding something to eat, trying to ignore sniper as he sat down at the table, watching you. After a little while you found something which looked half decent and you busy yourself trying to heat it up, feeling sniper’s eyes always on your back.

You light the camp stove, open the can and find a pan to heat the contents of the can up. The van was silent and you felt so awkward as you stirred the food “So uhh” you mumble, trying to break the silence.

“How far are we from the new base?” you ask, poking the food.

“What a stupid question, you had the map” Sniper muttered. The van fell into silence again. “But probably another half day” sniper said after a while. You nodded, feeling more awkward than ever as you put your food in a bowl and found cutlery. You sat opposite Sniper who eyed you and the food.

“I made enough for two” you said, smiling shyly and placing a second fork on the table. Sniper nodded in appreciation and forked the contents of the bowl. You both ate in silence, your face still red. You tried to ignore the silence and the growing cold of the van as night fell. You shivered, the hot day had turned into a cold night.

“Cold sheila?” Sniper asked.

“Just a little” you reply, finishing your final mouthful of food.

Sniper frowns. “The bed is warm” he said, picking up the crockery and rinsing it out. Timidly you climb the ladder and pull yourself onto the bed which overlooked the van’s living space. The bed was a little larger than a single, and had a little window looking out at the pitch black desert. The only lights where the stars and the moon which winked down at you. You stare at the view, trying to pick out certain constellations and name the stars.

“Stargazing Shelia?” a Sniper asked, he had climbed up the ladder and started to pull himself onto the bed, you moved slightly so he could properly get onto it. He had removed his trousers, leaving on his red boxers. You quickly look away and stare back out at the view.

“The stars are so clear” you murmur, ripping your eyes away from the view and turning to sniper as he nodded. “So” you start, frowning as sniper looks up at you. he had laid down, leaving only a small strip for you to lie in, this meant you would have to half lay on the gangly New Zealander.

“Don’t be shy darlin” he said with a smirk as you contemplate on how you where going to lie down. “You aren’t heavy” he smirked. You nodded, laying down on your side, trying not to touch sniper, you where sure that your face was the shade of your red uniform, feeling embarrassed and slightly turned on at how close you where to him.

Sniper pulled over the blanket and you sigh, you felt so unconfutable, wedged between sniper and the wall, however, you dared touch him or move, feeling like a spark would strike you down if you did. You however could feel yourself getting warmer and warmer, you felt like a little radiator.

“Warm?” a gruff voice asked, he turned to you, his face was so close to yours.

“A little” you murmur, pulling off some of the blanket.

“I’ll help” Sniper said, pulling you toward him and placing his hand at the back of your lose trousers, skilfully he pulled them down. “Sniper!” you squeak.

“Don’t give me that love” he almost growled, his hand hovering on your arse, now only your pants being between you and his hand. “I saw you staring, you where not just hot and bothered from the weather” he smirked, gripping your arse in his hand.

You where lost for words “I-I-I” you stammer, your head becoming blank from his actions.

“Don’t deny it” sniper quipped “I knew you chose this outfit just to get to me”

You smirked slightly “You caught me” you said.

“Oh you bitch” he muttered. “You gave me a hard on for half of that bloody drive”

“That was the plan” you said.

“Are you going to let me shag ya, or are you just giving me blue balls?” sniper asked, his hand starting to move up, you could feel his hard cock pressed against you.

“I’ll think about it” you said, a smirk forming on your lips.

“Enough with the cheek” Sniper snapped, “Give me an answer. Now.” he demanded.

“You have obviously been tortured for so long” you drone “surely another few seconds wouldn’t matter”

With that sniper had enough, he pushes you into the wall and kisses you. You kiss back, feeling his teeth nip at your bottom lip. His hand goes up and grabs your boob, pulling you ever closer to himself. You moan slightly into his mouth as he moves away his lips and hands.

“Move” he ordered, pulling you under him so that he was on top. Quickly he rips of your shirt, bra and pulls down your pants. “gorgeous” he muttered, taking little time in removing his own boxers. His dick was thick and already dribbling precum just at the sight of you. Giving you one more look he lowers his head to kiss and nip at your neck and collar, leaving little marks before putting his lips back to yours and thrusting into you. You groan into his mouth, feeling his hard member enter you.

“You are going to scream for me, aren’t you Sheila?” he said into your ear. You nodded, moaning as he starts to thrust faster into you and you feel one hand go down to rub your clit. You close your eyes as he does this, being overwhelmed by the 6′‘1 man who had taken your body completely as his.

“You can be louder than that” Sniper muttered, “There is none but me to hear you”

You nodded, answering his request with a louder moan, a mixture of pain and pleasure. “There’s my girl” he said, groaning loudly. “You are going to make me cum so quickly by how gorgeous you are”

You grin at the compliment, grabbing his back and scratching it with your nails in response to his thrusting, you could feel his dick throbbing in you, he was close and you knew it.

“Are you close?” he muttered, his fingers still moving circles on your clit.

You groan a yes, and after a few more moments of his thrusting and rubbing you came, moaning. Sniper groaned at this, leaving your clit and grabbing your hair as he pulled out of you and came on your stomach.

“Fuck” he moaned, closing his eyes and tightening his grip on your hair. After a moment he loosened his grip and sighed in pleasure and satisfaction. He slowly got from above you, grabbing his vest and clearing up the cum he had left on you. There was a lot.

“I needed a good fuck” was the first thing which came out of sniper’s mouth. You smiled as he chucked the vest on the floor and moved you so that you laid on his chest.

“I am glad I helped” you said, feeling is heartbeat slow down.

Sniper smirked, placing his arms around you, slowly moving his fingers up and down your side. “You definitely did” he said, stopping his movements as you both feel asleep.

#tf2 sniper #red sniper #sniper x reader #tf2 #snipertf2 #smut #oneshot

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babybluebanshee · 7 years ago

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Heavy Rains - Chapter 2 (TF2)

Part 1

Being stranded at Teufort during a raging storm with a gaggle of homicidal mercenaries isn't Miss Pauling's idea of a relaxing vacation. The group tries to make the best of it, but when a mysterious illness starts making its way through the barracks, it's a race against time to find a cure before it's too late. And that's not even bringing the emotional baggage into things.

Sniper didn’t understand why things felt so off that morning. It’s not as if things were any different from days they didn’t have to work. True, it was still bloody dreary outside, with rain pelting down on them, heavy as ball bearings, but things were - for them anyway - normal.

He and Engineer had woken up first, as always. Rising with the sun was second nature to farm boys like them, even if Sniper had felt pretty cagey all night. He simply wasn’t used to sleeping in the barracks, and had almost been itchy for the remote safety of his van. But Miss Pauling had rightfully pointed out that sleeping outside when there was a chance of flooding wasn’t too terribly smart. He’d managed to tough it out, get a decent eight hours, and wake up feeling only a little stiff in the lower back. These military beds weren’t worth a damn.

After a few hours, in which he and Engie had brewed up a nice pot of coffee and sat in amicable silence over a cup, the latter started cooking up some breakfast for everyone. No one had ever asked him to, it was just something Engineer seemed to enjoy. The smell of eggs and coffee started to draw the others out of their quarters - first Heavy, followed by Pyro, Medic, and Spy, the last three in varying orders and varying stages of wakefulness.

Demo stumbled out a little later, downing two cups of coffee he’d given an Irish twist before he even considered touching the food.

Finally Miss Pauling emerged, the only indication she’d slept her slightly wrinkled blouse. Her bun was strict and tight as usual, her glasses slightly crooked, her face not betraying one ounce of the stress she’d clearly been feeling the day before. Sniper was glad for that. Staying with them wasn’t exactly his idea of a relaxing vacation, but it seemed to do her good anyway. She was too young to always look as worried as she did.

Engineer seemed to feel the same way, smiling as he slid two runny eggs out of the frying pan and onto to a plate. He passed them over to Pyro. The firebug made a noise that Sniper supposed was appreciative, and immediately began dunking bits of his toast into the gooey yolks. He pulled his mask a bit away from his face and stuck the toast inside, presumably to reach his mouth. Sniper heard contented chewing.

For all intents and purposes, this was a normal morning. And yet Sniper couldn’t shake the odd feeling in his gut that something wasn’t quite right.

“Mornin’, Miss Pauling,” Engineer said, spooning another glob of butter into the pan. “How do you take your eggs?”

“Over easy, if you don’t mind,” Miss Pauling replied. “Any more of that coffee left?”

Spy was already on his feet as she asked, pouring her a generous mugful. “You’ll find, Miss Pauling, that this is one thing we keep a very steady supply of around here.”

As soon as her hands were around the steaming mug, she took a long drink. Sniper had never known any woman that took her coffee black. But then, Miss Pauling was not like other women he’d known.

She let out a contented sigh as she swallowed. “Gotta love that strong Mann Co. coffee,” she said. “It goes down like hot glue, but it certainly hits the spot.”

“Fortunately, for me,” Spy said, “we keep plenty of milk around as well. French coffee can be a bit strong, but it is practically water compared to this.” He took a sip from his own mug, the color of hazelnuts from all the milk.

“Agreed. It baffles me how anyone can take this coffee black,” Medic said, refilling his own mug about halfway. The rest of the room watched in silent horror as he filled the rest of the mug with milk, then dumped in teaspoon after teaspoon of sugar. After twelve, he finally stopped, stirred the concoction briefly with a spoon, and took a large swig. “Much better,” he said quietly.

“You want some coffee with your sugar, doc?” Sniper asked, before draining the last of his own coffee. Taken black, obviously. It was how his dad took it.

Medic shrugged and simply said, “I don’t tell you how to enjoy your bean water.” Then he took another long, loud drink.

Sniper heard Engineer chuckle a bit as he slid Miss Pauling’s eggs onto a plate. “Order up,” he said, handing them over to her. She took the plate and sat down on Sniper’s left, and began daintily dabbing a square of toast into the yolks.

As she stuck it in her mouth, she glanced around the room. She suddenly looked confused, and after swallowing, asked, “Where are Scout and Soldier?” She sounded like a mother who realized two of her children had wandered off.

Sniper almost laughed. He could bet money that wasn’t what was off about this morning.

“Trust me, Miss Pauling,” Engineer said, scrambling three more eggs in the pan, “you ain’t gonna see either of those two for a while. Soldier wakes up every morning when we ain’t got ass to kick and works out. Don’t even eat first. Just heads down to the training room and works himself like a dog.”

“And Scout is most likely still asleep,” Spy added, draining the last of his coffee. “Sometimes the smell of food wakes him, but typically we don’t see him before noon.”

This seemed to placate Miss Pauling. Sniper actually saw the tension ease out of her shoulders.

Engineer scraped the scrambled eggs out of the pan and sat himself, his plate, and his cup of sugared coffee across from Pyro. After a few bites and a long gulp, he turned his attention down to Sniper and said, “Speaking of when the boy regains consciousness, you still up for some poker, stretch?”

Sniper smiled and tipped his coffee mug towards Engineer in affirmation. It was a bit of a tradition they’d started. Slow days meant cards and beer. Most of the time, it was just the two of them, either in a game of gin or five card stud. Scout was the one to join them the most often, and sometimes even Demo, Heavy, and Soldier could be persuaded. He’d been looking forward to it ever since he’d heard the forecast for rain.

“Once we get the dishes done, I’ll see if I can wake him up,” Sniper said. “If not, I’ll just have to jimmy the lock on his door.”

“Scout sleeps with his door locked?” Miss Pauling asked.

“We insisted,” Medic said. “After Spy walked in once without knocking first, and…”

Spy interrupted him by loudly clearing his throat. “As I recall, we all agreed never to speak of that again,” he said. “Ever.”

After a moment of stifling silence, Miss Pauling simply said, “Ew.”

The men around her burst into laughter, and the uncomfortable air seemed to be swept out of the room entirely. Sniper shoved down that feeling of wrongness in his belly. It was probably nothing. Instincts could be wrong after all.

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Everything had been fine until Soldier showed up at the door of the infirmary, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

Medic actually felt much better that morning. Almost chipper. The rain still pounded mercilessly on the metal roof of the base, but a good night’s sleep and not seeing Scout for the first few hours of the day could do wonders for a man’s disposition. Along with a belly full of toast, eggs, and a large, hot cup of coffee (Sniper could pry his sugar milk from his cold, dead hands), he was ready to muddle through his day and maybe actually feel good about it.

But then he looked up at there was Soldier, standing at attention, as if he were waiting for Medic.

Soldier, in all the years that Medic had known him, never came to the infirmary of his own free will for anything that wasn’t the Uber. There was no injury that Soldier got that he wouldn’t insist he could walk off, even if that injury involved multiple broken bones in both legs.

If Soldier ever absolutely needed to get medical attention, Medic typically had to sneak a sedative into his food. And even then, it was a coin toss if Soldier would stay unconscious long enough for Medic to fix him up as needed. Once when he’d required stitches after a run-in with the enemy Scout, he’d come around while Medic was still sewing him up and punched him right in the mouth. It’d knocked one of his front teeth loose and swollen his cheek for a week.

“Did you need me for something?” Medic asked cautiously.

“My stomach hurts, doc,” Soldier said. The response was quick, and Soldier shut his mouth so quickly once he was finished speaking Medic swore he heard his teeth click together.

And wasn’t that just odd. Two men complaining of stomach ailments within twelve hours of each other, one complaint coming from a man who’d rather eat his own helmet than submit to a medical exam.

Medic tried to tell himself that this was nothing to worry about. As he recalled, Soldier and Demo had done a superb job of putting a dent in the beer Miss Pauling had brought them. For all he knew, Soldier was simply hungover.

But that nagging, persistent fact still stood - this was Soldier.

Medic sighed and said, “Very well, let’s have a look at you.”

He moved forward to unlock the infirmary doors, accidentally brushing up against Soldier’s side. He stopped momentarily when he felt how incredibly warm Soldier was. He could feel it through the fabric of his military jacket, and this close, he could see a thin sheen of sweat on Soldier’s face.

There was definitely something wrong here.

Medic’s doves cooed when he entered, but didn’t flutter or attempt to land on his shoulders. They seemed to sense that he had important things to deal with, and watched anxiously from the rafters. He instructed Soldier to hop up on a gurney, while he dug out a few things - a thermometer, his stethoscope, a box of tongue depressors. He dusted them off a bit as he told himself this was something he could handle easily. Soldier and Scout wouldn’t have the same ailment. They barely spent time together outside of the battlefield. How could they possibly catch the same thing?

After giving the thermometer a good shake, he walked back over to the gurney. “Under your tongue, Soldier,” he said.

Soldier obeyed without a word. Medic tried not to think about how that worried him as he pulled out his pocketwatch and began counting down three minutes.

He remembered, hadn’t he told Scout to come back if he didn’t feel any better last night? Obviously, he couldn’t be too sick, or he wouldn’t be sleeping in until noon as per usual. Medic blamed the sugary Bonk Scout had insisted upon guzzling down the day before. He must have had three cans by the time they were finished unpacking everything from the supply crates. He really would have to look at the lining of Scout’s stomach one day. He would be amazed if the boy didn’t have ulcers yet.

The three minutes ticked by, and Medic removed the thermometer. “103.7,” he said. “This is a high-grade fever, Soldier. You were smart to come here. Any other symptoms you’ve noticed?”

“Sore. My throat hurts,” Soldier said. His voice was quiet. He almost sounded like a child. “And I’m cold.”

That didn’t surprise Medic. Chills with a fever like this were the body’s way of trying to restore balance. He wouldn’t be surprised if Soldier started shivering soon. Combine that with the soreness, and it sounded like the flu. Medic felt some tension he didn’t know he’d been carrying release from his shoulders. The flu was easy. The flu he could deal with. Soldier would be fine with aspirin, fluids, and bedrest. True, it was still odd that Soldier had dragged himself all the way down here for something as simple as the flu, but he supposed everyone had their breaking point.

Medic walked over to his desk, to get the bottle of aspirin he kept in his drawer, ready to give Soldier the okay to leave and head straight back to bed. Sure, the other man wouldn’t particularly like to hear it, since it would put him out of commission on the battlefield for at least a week, but that was just the price one paid for their physical health.

The drawer was empty, and it took Medic a moment to remember he’d given the aspirin to Scout the night before. He bit back the irritated grumbling. He could just go grab the bottle and come back. With as puny as Soldier was behaving, Medic figured he could leave him for a few minutes.

Still, as he left, he said to Soldier, scolding like a parent, “I need to retrieve something. Stay right there.”

Soldier merely nodded vacantly, his helmet tilting a bit. Medic started walking a bit faster.

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The feeling had returned to Sniper’s gut again. It was usually never this hard to wake up Scout.

He checked his watch. It was almost 12:30, and the others were getting itchy for their card game. Usually by this point in the day, Scout had shown his face, even if he was only clad in the boxer shorts and Red Sox shirt he wore as pajamas and stumbling towards the bathroom.

He rapped his knuckles against the door again, pressed his ear close to the wood. He heard nothing - no murmurings and grumblings from the kid, no sounds of him turning over, not even the light snoring that Scout swore up and down that he did not do. “Come on, Scout,” he said loudly. “Get your lazy arse outta bed or we’re starting the game without you.”

Absolutely no sound from within. The feeling in his gut tightened, like someone was giving his innards a squeeze.

He could just leave, let the lad sleep. They could always deal him in when he did wake up.

But this feeling...he just couldn’t shake it. He needed to get in there, just to check on the kid. Make sure he was okay. Scout could yell at him for being a paranoid idiot all he wanted once Sniper knew he was okay.

He started fishing about in his pockets for the small penknife his father had given him as a teenager. It wasn’t exactly the ideal lock-picking tool, and he was no expert, but it’d do in a pinch.

Hard-soled shoes strode up behind him, then stopped. The smell of an expensive cigarette wafted under his nose. He could almost feel Spy eyeing him curiously.

“I may regret asking this, bushman,” Spy said, “but what are you doing?”

“Looking for me knife,” Sniper said shortly. Where the bloody hell was it? He couldn’t have left it in the van, could he?

“I could lend you mine. Lord knows you are not the only one who has thought of murder when it comes to Scout.”

The morbid joke did not help Sniper feel any less agitated. “I’m trying to pick the lock, ya damn spook,” he snapped. “He’s not answering the door and I can’t hear anything but the bloody door is locked.”

If Sniper didn’t know better, he’d say that a flash of genuine concern tripped across Spy’s features, gone as soon as it appeared. “You should have said something.” Spy reached into his suit jacket and pulled out his cigarette case. Flipping it open, he took out a rake pick and hook. “If you’ll kindly step aside, I’ll have the door open in a moment.”

Spy kneeled in front of the door, and gently put the tools through the keyhole. Every click and scrape against the lock inside made Sniper a little bit more agitated. He was practically bouncing on his heels.

“What’s the hold up, Snipes?” Engineer was poking his head around the corner, looking back at Sniper and Spy in confusion.

“Can’t get the kid to answer,” Sniper said. He could hear the mounting tension in his voice.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Engineer said.

“Oh, he better damn well be,” Sniper grumbled.

“You do realize that Scout is an adult. If he wishes to sleep his day away, he’s free to do that,” Spy said. He didn’t look up from his lockpicking.

“Just get the damn door open,” Sniper said. “Then you lot can hassle me about it.”

A few more minutes of uncomfortable silence ticked by. Sniper didn’t really want to think about why the others had abandoned their attempts to just let Scout be.

Then a loud click sounded from the inner workings of the door. “Et voila,” Spy said, standing back up to his full height and turning the knob.

Scout didn’t say a word as his door was opened. Poking his head in, Sniper realized that the kid was, indeed, still laying in bed, turned to face the door, curled in on himself. His blankets were tangled around his skinny legs. One of his pillows had been tossed in the floor. He’d definitely had a rough night. Sniper was almost tempted to actually leave him alone, and take his licks for coming off sounding like an overprotective father.

And then Scout let out a pained groan. Sniper saw Spy and Engineer’s eyes go wide with shock.

Sniper forgot about being paranoid and overprotective. He quickly walked into Scout’s room and over to his bedside. He spotted a bottle of aspirin on the desk nearby. The lid was off, and a few of the tablets were scattered on the desk surface. A almost-empty glass of water sat next to them. Sniper knelt down and reached out a hand, to shake the kid a bit, and said, “Hey, you alright, Scout?”

As soon Sniper’s hand rested on Scout’s shoulder, he jerked it back, shocked. It was like touching a hot stovetop. He immediately reached back down, placing a calloused hand on Scout’s forehead. Just to see if he’d actually felt what he’d felt.

Scout’s forehead was hot to the touch.

“Go get Medic,” Sniper said over his shoulder. Spy and Engineer still stood in the doorway, not even trying to hide their concern now.

“What’s wrong with him?” Engineer asked. He took a few long strides and was at Sniper’s side in moments.

“He’s burning up,” Sniper replied. He moved his hand back down to Scout’s shoulder and tried shaking him, saying gently, “Come on, lad, wake up. You gotta talk to me.”

Scout let out another small groan, and that seemed to be all Spy needed to finally get moving. Sniper knew it’d take him a while to get to the other side of the base and to the infirmary. They’d have to do what they could for Scout while they waited.

“Help me get him untangled from these blankets,” Sniper told Engineer. “Need to get him covered back up.”

The other man nodded and began doing as he was told. The sudden movement seemed to rouse Scout somewhat, and he opened his eyes a slit, blearily looking up at Sniper. He almost looked like he was trying to figure out who the lanky, older man was.

“Hey, there you are,” Sniper said, only allowing himself to feel the slightest bit of relief. Awake was good, but feverish and confused-looking was still decidedly not. Still, Sniper continued to talk to Scout the way one would to a small child. “You’re alright, lad. Medic’ll be here soon, he’ll fix you up. Just gonna get you covered back up right quick. Don’t need you getting chills on us to boot.”

Scout didn’t respond. He simply buried his head in Sniper’s hip, letting out a tiny, pained whine. It actually broke Sniper’s heart a little. The kid had a tendency of blowing his injuries way out of proportion, but it was never like this. Despite himself, Sniper gingerly stroked the kid’s hair and said, “You’re alright, son. Everything’ll be alright.”

Engineer finished straightening out the thin sheet and tucking it around Scout’s shoulders. His eyes travelled up to the aspirin bottle on the desk. “Scout,” he said, leaning forward a bit, putting himself in the boy’s vision, “did you take any of those?” He pointed in the direction of the aspirin.

Scout’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, as if he were mustering up the energy to speak. He let out a small sigh when he couldn’t do it, and nodded instead.

“That’s not good,” Engineer said. “Aspirin is supposed to bring down fevers. If he’s still this hot after taking it, it’s not working.”

Sniper didn’t respond. What could he say? It was obvious the aspirin hadn’t done it’s job. But what else were they supposed to do? The extent of Sniper’s first aid knowledge was anti-venom when you got bitten by something. He barely knew how to measure out cough medicine. And fuck if he knew what Engineer could do about this, despite the other man looking positively frantic to try something, anything.

It must have only been a few minutes before they heard the sounds of boots pounding against the concrete floors in a brisk jog. It felt like it’d been hours.

Medic appeared in the doorway, and took a quick survey of the scene before coming in. Spy appeared shortly after him. Sniper could see him desperately trying to maintain an air of calm. His face betrayed him though, even through the fabric of his mask. And the fact that Spy felt that way about Scout of all people just made Sniper all the more nervous.

Engineer quickly moved out of the doctor’s way, but Sniper stayed put. Scout’s burning forehead was still buried against his side, and it just didn’t feel right to jostle the poor kid right now.

“Kid nodded when Engie asked if he took any aspirin. Don’t know how much though,” Sniper offered weakly.

Medic didn’t even look at him. “Has he spoken at all?”

“Just groaning,” Sniper replied. “Don’t think he’s got it in him to talk.”

Medic nodded briskly. He knelt down in front of Scout, and gently lifted the kid’s chin a bit. Scout’s eyes fluttered open a bit, the blurry confusion still there are he tried to focus on Medic’s face.

“Scout, nod if you can understand me,” Medic said.

Scout’s head bobbed limply, but there was no denying it was a nod.

“Did you take the aspirin last night like I told you?”

Another nod.

“Did it help?” This time, Scout shook his head. Medic flicked a glance up at Sniper, almost like he could feel the questions burning on the other man’s tongue. “Last night, Scout came to me complaining of stomach pain. I gave him the aspirin and told him to come back in the morning if it didn’t help. I hadn’t seen him all morning, so I assumed he was fine. I was actually on my way to get it from him because Soldier is complaining of similar ailments.”

“Soldier actually came to you?” Engineer asked incredulously. Sniper looked up and saw that Spy had silently come into the room, standing at Engineer's side. Both men looked on edge.

“That is exactly how I felt,” Medic said, turning his attention back to Scout. He placed his fingers against the side of the kid’s neck, gently applying pressure from the base of his chin all the way down to his visible collarbone. The doctor set his mouth into a thin line of frustration, evidently not finding anything of note there.

“We need to move him to the infirmary,” Medic said, pushing himself back up to his full height and adjusting his spectacles. “Sniper, do you think you can lift him?”

Sniper merely nodded. Scout weighed about as much as a wet napkin when he was fully awake. Sniper figured it’d be even easier to do it now, when the kid couldn’t bitch and moan about it just being a broken leg, he could limp back to base on his own, thank you very much. He gently patted Scout’s cheek to rouse him again, and said, “Lad, I gotta lift you up, okay? Just to get to the infirmary.”

Scout made no indication he’d heard other than scooting himself away from Sniper a bit to give the other man room. Sniper took up the kid’s arm and slung it behind his own neck, and he felt Scout try weakly to tighten his hold around him. Good. At least Scout was slightly aware of what Sniper was trying to do. The support of his arm would keep him from falling backwards too much and making him cumbersome to carry. Sniper then hitched an arm behind Scout’s back and under the crook of his legs, and hoisted him up with quiet grunt. This close, the heat radiating off Scout was almost unbearable.

Medic motioned for Sniper to follow after him and started walking out the door. Spy and Engineer followed close behind.

As they walked, Medic said, “I will need to look him over more thoroughly, but I have a feeling I will find similar symptoms to Soldier’s - sore throat, aching muscle. I thought perhaps it might be the flu, but this fever, and with how shallowly Scout is breathing, it makes me lean more towards pneumonia. It can be contagious if it’s a bacterial infection.”

Sniper glanced down at Scout, who’d gone back to burying his face into the soft fabric of Sniper’s shirt. Sure enough, the kid’s chest was rising and falling quickly, like all that sprinting he did on the field had actually managed to wind him. Unconsciously, Sniper tightened his grip on him.

“Hopefully, that won’t be the case,” Medic continued. “But it can’t hurt to be certain. Best to confine the disease early so it doesn’t spread further. Speaking of which, you’re going to want a shower, Sniper. Being that close to him could infect you as well.

Sniper didn’t answer. He’d worry about himself later, once he knew the boy would be alright.

Finally, they came upon the infirmary doors. Just as Medic was about to push his way in, a voice from behind them piped up. “What the hell is going on?”

All four men stopped dead, and slowly turned around. Behind them stood Miss Pauling. She held a book at her side, and a look on her face that was, simultaneously, full of confusion and demanding answers. As soon as she saw Scout, her eyes widened minutely in shock. Her gaze passed around between the four of them.

Spy sighed and said to the others, “Take him inside and do what you need to do.” He still held himself rigidly, but seemed relieved to actually be able to do something.

Sniper, Medic, and Engineer hesitated, but eventually did as Spy asked. As they disappeared into the infirmary, Sniper heard Spy say, “I swear I can explain that.”

------------------

Good news: Scout and Soldier didn’t have pneumonia. After getting Scout situated on the one bed the infirmary had, Medic had pressed his stethoscope against the younger man’s back and listened. Scout’s lungs sounded completely clear. None of the rasping that traditionally came with the mucus-infested lungs pneumonia brought on.

Same with Soldier. His fever was nowhere near as high as Scout’s, but he still looked like he’d been run over, and his movements were slow and sluggish. After he’d finished looking him over, Medic had actually let him lie down on the gurney he occupied, and Soldier had drifted right off to sleep.

Truthfully, Miss Pauling wanted to do the same.

“I suppose it could be a particularly strong strain of the flu,” Medic told her, as he inserted an IV needle to pump saline solution into Scout’s arm. The younger mercenary had been incredibly dehydrated from spending all night sweating profusely. “But the aspirin should have helped. Unless the fever came on suddenly. But the flu also doesn’t typically cause a fever of 105.”

Oh, this was the opposite of what she needed right now. Mysterious viruses that came on suddenly? She’d rather take her chances with thumb reattachments, thanks.

She kept these grievances to herself though. She knew that the others felt bad enough without her complaining thrown in. While Spy had explained the situation to her outside the infirmary, she could tell that he was fighting to keep his cool and not start panicking. He’d told her about finding Scout after having to break into his room, and the fever and the fact Scout was too weak to talk or do anything really, and she’d actually been concerned that he’d come apart at the seams, right there. So she’d capped her ever-climbing stress and let Medic do damage control.

“I will need to keep them both here for now,” Medic said, securing the IV with a piece of medical tape. “I can monitor them more closely that way, maybe figure out exactly what this is. It will also be an effective quarantine. Until I know for sure what’s happening here, I need everyone to stay out unless I ask them to come here. Understood?”

Engineer, Sniper, and Spy all nodded. Miss Pauling had never seen them all looking more miserable. They had no answers, and they were all clearly worried out of their minds. She actually felt kinda bad for even feeling inconvenienced by all this.

Medic waved them away, instructing them all to take hot showers as soon as they could, and to inform Heavy, Demo, and Pyro to keep their distance.

When they were back out in the hall, Sniper and Engineer headed towards the mess hall. Spy immediately took off in the direction of his smoking room. Miss Pauling trailed after him.

She wanted to make sure he was okay. They others would do their best to console Sniper and Engineer. But Spy tended to keep to himself, even when things got really bad. And from the way he was carrying himself now - back ramrod straight, fingers twitching in need of a cigarette, and pace harried - she knew things were bad.

They walked without saying a word, only the sound of the shoes tapping briskly against the floor filling the silence. Miss Pauling took this as a positive sign. If Spy didn’t want her around, he would surely say something.

They reached his smoking room. Spy walked in, leaving the door open. Miss Pauling followed, supposing this was as good and invitation as any. She shut the door behind her, and turned to face Spy in the dimly lit room. There was a crackling fire in the fireplace, and two armchairs facing it, a table between them. Spy was off at the sideboard, upon which was a decent selection of liquors. He grabbed a bottle of amber-colored liquid, took out the stopper, and poured freely, until the glass was nearly full. Then he tossed it back and immediately began pouring another.

Alright, it was definitely time to speak up.

“Spy -” she began.

Spy cut her off, asking, “Did you want one? I have plenty.” He didn’t even wait for her to reply. He just grabbed another glass and filled it.

“Spy, do you wanna talk?”

For a moment, her only answer was the sound of the drink being poured.

“Not particularly,” Spy finally replied. He picked up the glass and walked over to her, extending it. She took it out of politeness.

Her face must have betrayed some sort of pleading, because Spy closed his eyes a bit and sighed. “I do not mean to be short with you,” he said. “When I say I do not want to talk about things, that is partially because I don’t feel able to. I am...not used to feeling this way. About people, you know?”

He turned from her and walked to the armchairs, sitting down heavily in one. She followed and sat in the other, setting the book she’d been carrying on the table. She didn’t say anything. She wanted him to talk in his own time.

Spy heaved another sigh, and swirled his drink a bit in his hand. “You know, most people would assume doing things like this - sneaking off to hide away by myself - it must mean I don’t care.”

“You do though, don’t you?” It wasn’t really a question.

Spy looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and to her surprise, he huffed out a laugh and gave a wry smile. “You are correct. I do. I sometimes wish to God I didn’t care. But I do.” He took a long drink from his glass. When he finished, he continued, “Before I came here, I learned very quickly that one does not get far by caring about anyone else. Most spies view that as weakness. We look out for ourselves, and that is what gets our jobs done. What keeps us from keeping ourselves killed.”

Another beat of silence filled the room. Miss Pauling cautiously took a drink from her glass, just to have something to fill the void. It burned all the way down to her belly. She was surprised to taste a hint of caramel at the end. It was actually kind of nice.

“If this had happened four years ago, I imagine I would still feel that way,” Spy added, almost quietly enough that Miss Pauling didn’t hear him.

“Being crammed in close quarters and getting shot at every day together would probably change anyone’s mind about that,” she said.

“Indeed,” Spy replied. “I was actually afraid when I saw Scout in his bed like that. For a moment, I thought he was dead. I actually felt panicked. Then I just stood there, like a useless fool. And do you know what I said to Sniper before I offered to pick the lock for him? That I’d thought about murdering the little whelp. If ever there was a worse joke to make…”

Spy quickly drained his glass again, and stood up to get more.

“Well, it was just a joke,” Miss Pauling said, wishing she could keep him from filling his glass again, but knowing he wouldn’t listen. “Sniper and Engie know you didn’t mean it.”

Spy didn’t answer. She heard him pour more liquor into his glass.

“Spy,” she said firmly. He didn’t turn to look at her, but the pouring stopped, and he straightened up. “This isn’t your fault. It isn’t anyone’s fault. Scout and Soldier are just sick. It happens all the time, even to guys like you. You cannot blame yourself for this, because all you’ll do is make yourself feel like shit.”

He still didn’t turn to look at her, but she heard him replace the glass stopper in the bottle and set it back down.

“It’s good that you care, Spy,” she continued. “I know you’ve been taught that it’s a weakness, but it isn’t. It’s the reason you guys work so well as a team. It’s why you’ve all lasted this long.”

Spy still hadn’t turned to look at her. The half-filled glass was still firmly clutched in his hand.

Miss Pauling stood up and closed the distance between them. For a moment, a few inches from Spy’s back, she hesitated, her hand dangling in the air. She didn’t know what kind of touching would be appropriate, what Spy would be comfortable with. She wanted to hug him. She felt like he needed one, even if he himself didn’t think so. Finally, she settled for placing a gentle hand in the middle of his back. He only started a little, as if he’d been trying to prepare himself for contact, but still wasn't completely ready.

“It’s okay, Spy,” she murmured.

He let out a shaky breath. She didn’t dwell on that.

He finally turned to face her again, and even though he was still holding the glass, there was something more relaxed about his posture, the air around him. He was finally at ease. “Thank you, Miss Pauling,” he said. He gave her a small smile.

She smiled back. “Oh, by the way,” she said, abruptly transitioning to her Girl Friday voice. She needed, wanted, to take Spy’s mind off things. The appropriate tone help. “I started reading the book last night.”

“Really,” Spy said. His smile broadened. “And what do you think so far?”

“You were on the mark with me and Elizabeth. Especially when it comes to her mother.”

Spy chuckled a bit, and they began to drift back over to the chairs. “Yes, Mrs. Bennett is indeed quite ridiculous,” he said. “But there are modern scholars who try to give her a bit of leeway. After all, many of the things she grouses about were real fears of Regency ladies.”

“I guess. It might not bother me so much if she actually seemed like she was more worried about her daughters than who was going to provide for her.”

“Quite true. To say nothing of her behavior sabotaging her daughters’ - and therefore her own - chances.” Spy resumed his seat in front of the fire, and motioned to the glass Miss Pauling had set down. “Drink up,” he urged.

Miss Pauling took up her glass again and said, “Alright, but I don’t think either one of us needs anymore of it. I had a sip and I’m already feeling funny.”

“Ah yes, this bottle is particularly...potent, I must admit. My original intent was to, how do you say, ‘get buzzed’, after all,” Spy said. “But I refuse to allow good cognac to go to waste. Especially when it costs $2,000 a bottle.”

“Damn, I better get to drinking then,” Miss Pauling said, picking up her abandoned glass. “Make sure you get your money’s worth.”

Spy raised his glass. “So, have you met Mr. Darcy yet?”

“You mean the king of the dorks?”

Spy almost snorted his cognac right back into the glass as he laughed.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #fanfic #miss pauling #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 heavy #tf2 demo #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #heavy rains

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