Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You go through the motions, sluggish and tired. The alarm clock blinks 5:30am. Not that you need the alarm any more, your body has gotten used to the early starts. You slump into the small bathroom connected to your bedroom, looking at yourself in the mirror. Running a hand through your (h/c) hair, you sigh. Fingers snag on a knot as you reach for a brush and begin the laborious task of taming it. Your class is the newest to be introduced to the team. With a madness to rival Pyro, and as quiet a demeanour as Sniper, you have been considered one of the more odd classes, but it didn’t matter. You kept to yourself and that was how you liked it.

Once you’re done with your hair, you brush your teeth and splash some cold water on your face. That was the extent of your grooming routine, so you back out of the bathroom and switch off the light. Next is your uniform. Long sleeves on a bright red coat are buttoned at the cuffs, and a hood is pulled over your head. This is worn with a white shirt and red tie, light brown trousers and heavy black boots. A belt is fastened around your waist to hold your weapons, and thick black gloves are pulled over your hands. The final addition is a cloth mask which covers the lower half of your face. Finally ready, you make your way out of your room and head for the kitchen. At this point, you really don’t need to pay much attention to the path your feet take as they have trodden it so many times already, so you allow your mind to wander.

You had been unemployed for some years before you found this job, a bright printed poster pinned to the notice board in a pub often frequented by mercenaries. Bold letters had professed that “RED team needs you!” ‘How cliché’ you thought at the time, but it held your attention. Closer inspection revealed that you would be required to relocate to a small town called Tuefort in the USA, there was a small star next to the part which told you that you would be required to risk your life, leading to a foot note saying “repeatedly”. Cryptic as the note was, you found your attention enraptured by this odd poster. You tried to reason with yourself that there were many reasons you wanted to take this job, but really it was the relocation that you wanted most. You had been running all your life, why stop now, and to a whole new country? It was Christmas come early.

You reach your destination before you allow yourself to get lost in these thoughts, sighing with relief. That was a dangerous path, many a battle had been lost while you were trapped in your mind.

“G’morning, lass” grunts Demo as you walk into the kitchen. You give him a nod, and walk to the coffee machine. As you busy yourself making a drink, you don’t notice several more of the men file into the room, yawning and sighing. There isn’t much time before you’re required to be ready for battle, so you down your coffee and place the mug in the sink.

“Guten morgen, Fräulein” You hear a voice next to you say, and you turn to face him.

“Medic.” You mutter, voice sounding more tired than you meant it to, having not used it yet today. You see him smirk and you scowl a little, brow furrowing.

“If you are having trouble sleeping, I have some pills which may interest you.” He states for the umpteenth time, knowing full well you are going to refuse. It’s gotten to the point where it is becoming a running joke, but you never did find it very funny. Silence speaking for you, you glare at him, watching a grin grow on his face. You turn and walk away, leaving him chuckling to himself. Feeling an angry flush creep across your cheeks, you forgo breakfast and choose to head to the spawn room early.

*

You wake with a jolt, Medic’s hand on your shoulder.

“Wake up, time to go.” He says gently, all hints of teasing gone from his eyes, replaced with a different look you’re not too familiar with, almost like he didn't want to wake you. He looked...sad? You nod, taking the arm he offered and he pulls you to your feet. You linger there for a few moments, staring into his eyes. It's common knowledge, almost an unspoken rule, that everyone at the base has secrets, past memories that cling to their conscience, and scars that will never fade, but in those short few moments you see them. It's as if you're staring at an open book, you see past the madness that lies as a mask on the outside, into the pain and the fear.

“Mission begins in ten seconds.” States the administrator, jolting you both out of your reverie. Medic releases your arm, taking a step back and you release a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, and bend to pick your weapons up from their place on the floor. He coughs awkwardly, turning to ready his medigun. A quick sweep around the room reveals a fair few of your teammates watched the exchange. Many of them turned away when they saw you looking, but you saw the narrowed eyes of suspicion.

None of you had time to dwell, though, as the countdown ceased and the door to the battlefield hissed open. Yesterday, the BLU team had gained several control points and won the match, today you would be taking them back. At least, that was the plan. You trailed behind the group, watching your teammates take their positions like actors on the stage. Except, the only people watching wanted to kill you, so you had to make your performance count.

You follow Pyro and Scout as they make their way towards the first point, readying your primary weapon as you go. It’s not long before you round the corner and see the BLU team waiting for you on the point. You smile at the thought that their uniform and skin will soon be dyed with your teams colour. A morbid thought, but it cheers you up.

Their Heavy is stationed on the point, their Sniper a way away from it, and the BLU Engineer is beginning to set up a sentry. ‘We can’t have that, now can we.’ You think to yourself. Turning and nodding to Scout and Pyro, the three of you take a breath before rounding the corner. The other two head towards the point, followed closely by your own Heavy and Medic, but your target is the preoccupied Engineer. Sprinting up behind him you pull out your melee weapon and stab it into the back of his throat before he has a chance to react. You give a sharp tug to your blade, letting his body slump over his incomplete sentry. His body begins to fade after a few moments, signifying that he would be re-spawning soon, so you jump back into action and head for your next target.

This is how the rest of the day goes, skipping from control point to control point, from target to target. You don't see much of Medic for the rest of the day, when you do he is usually busy in the heat of the battle. He noticed your gaze once, locked eyes with you and raised an eyebrow. A cocky gesture poorly masking his emotions. You tried your best to avoid him after that, paranoia and anxiety brewing around your head like a storm on the horizon, not the kind of distractions you wanted on the field. No, they could wait their turn.

Soon enough, it was late afternoon and you were crouching on the last point, smirking as you watch Scout run in circles around the point, occasionally shooting a BLU member who got too close. You saw the light on the point begin to flicker, and you started counting down in your head ‘three…two…one…’

“VICTORY!” Screeched The Announcer, and you let a small, smug grin spread across your masked face. You hear your Scout whoop, jumping high in the air before sprinting away, presumably back to the re-spawn room. You stand from your position on the point and stretch, turning to follow the path of your teammates. You don’t notice anything is wrong until you feel the sharp pain in your right shoulder. It has been pierced by an arrow, probably fired right before victory was announced. ‘Fuck…’ you think, stumbling and leaning against the nearest wall for support, hot red liquid oozing from the wound. From what you can see, the arrow has gone completely through and is lodged quite firmly. Or you think it is, looking is… painful. ‘Right, come on, it’s not far back to the base…’ you decide, stumbling as you try to head forwards. You turn into a passage that should lead you directly outside the door to the base. Walking is becoming increasingly more difficult, vision beginning to darken at the edges, fading in and out of focus like a confused camera. You allow yourself a short laugh at the comparison but it quickly turns to a rasping cough, filling your mouth with blood. You pull your cloth mask down so it hangs around your neck and spit, watching the red splatter onto the ground, joining that already dripping from your shoulder and staining your clothes. ‘At least my navigational skills are intact’ you think, as you turn out of the passage and see the door in front of you. You stumble over to it and push it open, landing painfully on your knees. Sighing and panting from the effort to remain conscious, you scrunch your eyes shut. “Medic…” you call out, or you think you did. Not long after, your vision fades entirely and unconsciousness claims you.

Chapter Text

You decided long ago that your subconscious hates you and you reiterate that thought now as you sit there on that same rotting bench in the same cemetery with the same crowd of people dressed in black. Back when you lived the scene, you ran. As fast and as far as you could, but now you just sit. It’s almost... peaceful. Almost as if... No, you shake your head. Emotions have always been problematic for you, more complicated than they needed to be. You stand from the bench and turn your back on the group, wind whipping at your coat as you walk away. The only way to end the dream is to take that same path as always, and so, you walk.

**

Your eyes flutter open as you’re pulled back to the real world. Flashes of bloodstained clothes and strong arms dart through your memory, and you squeeze your eyes shut again. You lie there for a while, with the gentle light of the medigun tenderly coaxing the feeling back into your shoulder and feeding you strength. Eyes still shut, you prepare to heave yourself into a seating position.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” States a strong German accent and you almost growl. As if sensing your frustration, a strong hand rests gentle but resolute on your good shoulder and you decide to open your eyes to glare at its owner. The Medic stands there, eyes baring down into yours, laced with deadly focus and poorly concealed concern, but he looks... tired. You blink, changing your focus to the clock on the wall and are alarmed to see you’ve almost completely missed dinner. The man next to you follows your line of sight, and removes the hand from your shoulder once he’s sure you’re not going to try and leap out of bed. He turns away to fiddle with the medigun, and you take it as an opportunity to shift into a slightly more upright position, despite his earlier protests, and take in your surroundings. You’re in the infirmary, that much is clear from the blindingly white decor and sterile smell, but you had no idea there was a long stay ward, if that’s what this can even be called, and you say as much to the doctor. “Well we rarely need to use it, Frau,” He states, turning back to you. You smirk as you see his eyes narrow. “I told you not to move.”

“I never did like being told what to do.” You deadpan, statement almost a challenge. It coaxes a chuckle from the man, and his features relax.

“I had no idea how long you’d be out, it seemed appropriate to move you here while I saw to the others.” Now that makes sense. Days don’t usually end with only one person left injured, and he’d have to treat them somewhere.

You nod, and your eyes flicker back to the clock. “Don’t suppose there’s any chance of dinner, is there?” You ask, stomach growling right on cue.

“There’s might be something left,” He says, smirking again. “I’ll just check your shoulder first.” He takes the few short strides over to you, and begins peeling back the dressing he had placed over the entry wound. You turn away and clench your eyes shut. You’ve never been particularly squeamish, you’ve seen more open wounds than you can count, it’s just... Medic. With his face closer to yours than you’re used to, makes all sorts of anxious butterflies erupt in your stomach. He replaces the dressing and has you turn onto your side so he can inspect the back. ‘So it did go all the way through.’ You think, eyes still shut. He finishes his probing, and helps you sit up. Now the blankets are off, you’re aware of the cold air hitting your arms and you feel anxiety rear it’s ugly head making you cringe. Medic holds your coat out for you to slip your arms into and you wish for death right there. All you can think about is the scars littering your arms, chest, stomach... hell, everywhere. Everyone at Teufort has a past, and you’re no exclusion. At least he doesn’t mention it. Once your coat is on, you turn to walk out of the infirmary, but Medic stops you. You look up at him, eyes locking, and you swear you feel your heart skip a beat. Just like the moment that morning, you can see further than into his eyes. He’s an open book, and you’re caught there for a moment spanning seconds but feeling like years. You can see he wants to say something, words on the tip of his tongue... instead he swallows, and says “Take it easy, okay?” voice coming out more unsure than he probably meant it to. You nod, and the moment is broken.

**

The pair of you arrive in the mess hall after a long, quiet walk. Usually, Medic would be babbling on about something or other, but for the duration of the short walk he was quiet, pensive. It was almost a relief when almost all of your teammates were littered about the room. They still for a moment, turning to watch you as you enter. “Aye lass, we didn’t expect to see you this evening!” calls Demo from his position at the end of the long table where he, Heavy and the Engineer were playing a game of cards.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you tease, “especially not when it’s Heavy’s turn to cook.” Demo raises his bottle to this, and several of the men chuckle. Heavy makes some very good food. Warm. Homely. ‘Not that I have a very clear idea on what that is’ you think.

“Speaking of which,” says the Russian, placing down his cards and heaving himself to his feet, “We saved you both some. Sit, I’ll heat it up.”

‘Both?’ you think, letting Medic steer you towards a seat at the table before taking one of his own facing you. ‘He stayed all that time...’ You shuffle in your seat, turning your head to watch the progress of the card game. Though really you just want to turn away from the man sat opposite you. It doesn’t take long for Heavy to heat up the food, and before you know it a bowl of steaming hot... something is placed in front of you. You thank the man, digging in without even a thought as to what it is. The Medic takes a slightly more civilised approach to his food, you feel his gaze watching you for most of your meal, not picking up his spoon until you were almost finished. ‘Why must he insist on looking after me so much,’ You think to yourself ‘I get that it’s his job but I’ve never seen him mother anyone else like this.’ You finish the bowl of food and push it aside gently, immediately thanking Heavy who had returned to his seat playing cards with the others.

“It is no problem.” He says genuinely, “I am glad you enjoyed it.” You nod in return, stifling a yawn. Badly. You wait a few more moments, glancing back to Medic. It still feels like he has something to say, but you’re not sure you want to hear what it is.

“I’m going to bed.” You state, standing to take your bowl to the sink. Medics eyes widen ever so slightly and you can almost hear the protest. “Are you done with that?” You ask him, gesturing to his empty bowl.

“Oh, ja,” He responds, “but-“ “It’s fine, it doesn’t even hurt any more.” You cut him off. It’s a lie, your shoulder has been a dull ache dominating your senses ever since you left the infirmary, but there’s no reason for him to know that. He concedes with a nod, frowning but obviously not wanting a scene, so you deposit the two empty dishes into the sink, and bid your comrades goodnight.

Chapter Text

You scrunch your eyes shut, feeling the wind whip your hair around your face. You know where you are. The same graveyard, the same group, but wait... no. Something has changed... You stand from the bench and walk across the uneven ground towards the small gathering. You look to the faces, expecting to see the familiar grief stricken looks of family you left behind, only... it’s not them. In their place, clad in a black making them almost unrecognisable, stand the Teufort Nine. You feel your heartbeat increase as you edge towards the still open coffin, gut knowing who you’re going to see will have changed as well and, sure enough, it has. The face you were expecting has gone, replaced by your own cold, dead, empty self. Your eyes widen and your feet take a few stumbled steps backwards across the uneven ground. You turn and run from the group, feeling yourself let out a scream as the dream fades to black.

**

You wake up, throat sore and tears streaming down your face. You don’t know how long you lie there, eyes clenched shut, willing the tears to stop. Which they do. Eventually.  You sit up in bed and glance to the clock. 2.30 am. ‘Another sleepless night, then’ You think to yourself, ‘just what the doctor ordered’. You sigh and throw the covers off, wiping your face and deciding you need a drink of water. You slip your feet into your boots and head off down the corridor, hood pulled up and hands buried in the pockets of your jumper. The base isn’t particularly cold thankfully, but walking alone through the hallways when all is still and silent is… Unnerving. After a tense walk you arrive at the kitchen. Fumbling for the light switch, you wait for the lights to flicker to life before you walk any further into the room and grab yourself a bottle of water from the fridge, taking a hearty gulp. It was a bit of an inconvenience, only having bottled water to drink, but you’d rather that than the alternative which you had been assured would not be pleasant. The lights flicker as you stand there, lost in thought with one hand scratching at the bandage on your shoulder, wondering if you really needed it there. You watch the dull bulbs in the ceiling flicker incessantly, almost as if the lights were protesting having been woken, so you leave the kitchen and turn them off, grumbling at them as you go.

**

You step outside the door, fresh early air hitting your face. Dusty as the air can be, it was preferable to being inside where it felt as if even the walls were out to get you. You make your way to a section of wall with a lamp directly above you where you slide to the floor and sit hugging your knees to your chest. You stay there for some time, eyes trained to the starry sky, lost in thought, when a loud thud makes you jump out of your skin. There stands the Medic, dressed more casually than you had seen before and looking almost sheepish about having disturbed you. Slowly you regain your composure, clutching your knees to your chest again before addressing the Medic. “Could you make a less dramatic entrance next time?” You ask, a hint of humour managing to break through the panic still present in your voice. He laughs and walks closer to you.

“I could try, Frau, but where is the fun in that?” he quips, “Is this seat taken?” You shake your head and he sits on the floor next to you, awkwardly bending his legs into a somewhat crossed position. ‘Who knew he had such long legs...’ You think, getting so distracted you almost miss him start talking again. “So what brings you out here on a night like this?”

You take a moment to answer, not sure whether to confess the truth to him. You were told back when you were hired that Medic’s duties stretched beyond the battlefield and anything said to him was done so in complete confidentiality, and you had reluctantly agreed to go to him if you needed anything, if only to appease Miss Pauling. But that didn’t mean that you trusted him. So you shrug your shoulders, avoiding looking at him as you answer. “Couldn’t sleep.” He responds with a hum, and you wait for the inevitable comment about sleeping pills which, to your surprise, doesn’t come. You finally look to him and see that he’s been watching you. “What?” you bark, sounding slightly harsher than you meant to. He smirks in response and you look away, annoyed.

“Nothing.” He starts, smirk still evident on his voice, “I can tell when you’re hiding something, you know.” You look back up at him, alarmed, confirming his suspicions. “I’m a doctor.” He shrugs, “It’s part of the job.”

“Do you often get lied to by peoples innards then?” you quip, trying desperately to cover your nerves, “Because in all the time I’ve been here that makes up for at least… three quarters of your interactions with us.”

He laughs an honest laugh and shrugs again, and the pair of you settle into a comfortable silence, watching the sky and the compound around you begin to lighten. It was oddly peaceful in that moment, no sounds of explosions or gunfire, just the wind and the sound of you both breathing. You sigh, feeling your eyes getting heavy again. Typically, the man beside you takes that as his moment to begin talking.

“I… wanted to talk to you, actually.” He says nervously and you look to him in a questioning way, watching his hand scratch at the back of his neck. “About… some things I read in your file...” The rest of what he says is in a blur. He read your file. He knows. He knows everything. You start to pull yourself up, but he grabs your wrist and holds you there.

“I have to… go.” You mutter, voice shaking. He almost looks as if he wants to say more but he merely nods, eyes scanning your face. Eventually he releases your wrist, letting you jump up and head back into the compound where you all but sprint back to your bedroom and collapse onto the bed, breathing heavily. You’re not sure when you manage to fall back asleep but you do, trying desperately to forget everything that had just happened.

Chapter Text

You wake up just before your alarm and rub at your eyes sleepily. You had only managed an extra hour of sleep after the events of the previous night, and the thought of having to face Medic after freaking out like that made you feel sick. You sit up, kicking your boots off your feet and onto the floor where you had forgotten to take them off the night before. The water you had fetched was warm now, but you downed the last of the bottle before lobbing it in the vague direction of the bin and heading to the bathroom. A quick inspection of your shoulder proved that it was now completely healed, but had left a messy, red scar behind. ‘Another to add to the collection’ you think bitterly, and rip the rest of the bandages off. You have a quick shower and towel dry your hair, letting it hang damp on your shoulders as you don your uniform. It’s almost 6.30 when you’re finished dressing, which means most of the men will still be eating breakfast. Which means Medic will be eating breakfast. You shudder at the thought, and decide to head straight to the spawn room. On the field, everybody was expected to "act professionally and ignore any disagreement they had with another member of the team until the working day is over". If you could avoid Medic until then, you would avoid any uncomfortable questions and have a much better chance of not dying more than you killed that day. So, you pick up your things and begin the trek to the spawn room, making sure to take the long way around to avoid the mess hall completely.

**

The morning flew by quickly, and you relished the opportunity to let off some steam on the battlefield. You hardly saw any of Medic that day, choosing to rush around in front of everybody providing Scout and Pyro with cover as they cleared the path for the payload. It wasn’t until part way through the afternoon that you noticed something was… wrong. You began to feel lightheaded and slowed your run down to a walk, narrowly missing taking a bullet to the head. You curse your carelessness and whip around to see the enemy scout there, face pulled up into a self-assured grin as he sprinted towards you, firing off shots as he goes. You begin to feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you spring to action. You fire off a few shots towards him but he’s running in a zig-zag, too fast to hit from a distance. So you do the only logical thing you can think of; you run at him. The look on his face tells you that was definitely not what he had been expecting. Your class wasn’t generally known for initiating a game of chicken with the enemy Scout. Though what did Miss Pauling say when introducing you to the group? Ah yes, expect the unexpected. It was hard to forget how her eyes had almost twinkled at that, watching the various reactions of the men neatly lined up before you, Pyro even began clapping… You continue to fire off shots as you get closer, one of them manages to graze his arm almost causing him to flinch. You see his eyes narrow and jaw clench and you do the same, still running… You crash into each other painfully and tumble to the ground. He starts scrabbling for his baseball bat as you do the same for the closest weapon. It’s a tense few seconds but you just get there first. You twist onto your side and reach over, stabbing him in the throat with your combat knife right as he began raising his arm, preparing to strike. His arm falls back to the ground with a dull thud, bat rolling away from him. You drop the bloody knife and roll onto your back next to the now very dead enemy Scout to take a breath, head pounding. ‘Why is it pounding?’ You question, mentally. You push yourself dizzily to your feet causing your stomach to lurch. Bad idea. You only manage to stumble a few steps forward, arms fumbling for the support of a wall too far away, before you pass out completely.

**

You wake up on the dusty floor, Spy is crouched beside you with one gloved hand resting on your shoulder. He’s looking away from you, calling for Medic into his earpiece. You shift yourself slightly, drawing his attention to you. “Nice of you to join us, mademoiselle.” He says, annoyed. You sigh and close your eyes again. You’d like to make it through the day without the sun burning a hole in your retinas. Stupid sun...

His grip on your shoulder tightens. “I’m awake, I’m awake…” you state, hearing the man sigh.

“Come on,” he starts, moving his hand to under your arm to help you up “We’re meeting the Medic, you can’t fight like this.”

**

You must have passed out again on the way to the spawn room, because you’re suddenly aware that you’re sat on a bench against the wall, Medic sat opposite you and Spy nowhere to be seen. Typical. Medic hands you a bottle of water and you take it gratefully, downing it almost in one go. You hadn’t realised how thirsty you were… “I thought as much,” He remarked, smirking. “You didn’t come to breakfast, Fräulein. You passed out from exhaustion.”

“Right.” You say, looking at your feet. He stands up slowly and walks to his locker, pulling out another bottle of water and some protein bars.

“I wanted to say something actually… Scheisse.” He runs a hand through his hair, tentative. “About last night.” He starts, watching you closely. “I didn’t mean to pry, I just… ach.” He hands you the food and sits down on the bench across from you, wringing his hand in his lap.

“I’m… sorry.” You try, ripping open one of the protein bars, and you mean it. You’ve never seen Medic this unsure before, it’s unusual. He gives you a small smile, and turns to look out of the window of the spawn room onto the field.

“Nein, it’s me that should be apologising.” He shifted in his seat. “I should have known not to… it’s me that should be apologising.” He states again and you nod. You’re about to say something more when a loud whoop makes you both jump out of your skin.

“Quit relaxin’, would ya? We’re getting slaughtered out there!” Chastises the freshly respawned Scout, already sprinting out of the door. You stand, feeling Medic’s gaze on you. After a moment he joins you, talking as he hoists his heavy equipment onto his back as if it were made of feathers...

“Let’s finish this conversation later, ja?” He asks, though you get the feeling it’s not really a question.

“Sure.” You respond, and he nods, flipping a switch on his Medigun to ready it once again as he makes his way back onto the field. You take a moment to finish the second protein bar before picking up your weapons and running back out to join your teammates.

Chapter Text

It was a long day, but the team managed to secure a victory in the end which left everybody in a cheery mood as you made your way back to the base. Demo was already on his third beer and several other men were close behind him by the time you got back.

You scratched idly at a long cut down your upper arm which was steadily dripping blood onto your trousers, courtesy of the ever pleasant BLU sniper and his damn Kukri, as you follow some of your teammates in the direction of the infirmary. By the sounds of things, Scout is already inside the infirmary when you arrive, so you follow Engie and Heavy and perch on one of the chairs lined up in the hall.

You feel your heart flutter in your chest every time Scout or Medic yell, and you find yourself staring at the floor tiles trying to drown it out. He wasn’t even injured that badly, trust Scout to make a huge fuss out of nothing. You’re vaguely aware of the two next to you conversing in low voices but you don’t bother trying to listen to what they’re saying. The two heavy doors burst open, startling you out of your thoughts, forcing you to look up as you see Scout storming away down the hall and a very flustered looking Medic standing in the doorway. He curses in German and turns back into the infirmary. You exchange a look with Engie, not sure whether any of you were meant to follow when a rather angry sounding “Next, bitte.” Drifts through the crack in the doors. With a groan, Heavy stands to follow the doctor’s wishes and disappears into the infirmary, blood dripping onto the floor as he goes. You return to staring at the tiles, lost in thought.

Typically, after your agreement to meet the Medic after the match, the day had gone incredibly quickly.  It wasn’t like you hadn’t had meetings like this with the Medic before, his job being what it is he actually has to carry out psych evaluations on the rest of the team to be sent off to Miss Pauling and her higher ups. You’d guess the assessments were a way to reassure your employers that you weren’t all going crazy, but considering the fact that crazy was what landed a lot of you the gig in the first place, that couldn’t be accurate at all…

You don’t notice you were alone until you feel a hand rest on your shoulder. You jump, cursing, as your heart flutters in your chest again. “Fräulein.” He says, releasing your shoulder and walking back into the infirmary. You stand and follow him in, trying to swallow your nerves. You notice immediately that he is much calmer than he seemed after dealing with Scout and you’re suddenly glad you had to wait to see him until last. You take a seat on the bed in the centre of the room and watch as he begins to prep his medical supplies once again. You pull your arm out of your coat and shrug it off your shoulder. Medic takes your elbow in his hand, lifting your arm towards him as he carefully begins to clean the wound. “It’s only a small cut, I will patch it up without the Medigun, Jawohl?”

You nod, not meeting his gaze. “Whatever you say, you’re the doctor…” A nervous laugh escapes you, and you internally cringe.

“Indeed I am, Fraulein, indeed I am.” He releases your arm, turning to fetch something from the tray next to him.

“So… you wanted to, um.” You trail off, and he nods.

“It won’t need stitches.” He mutters, mostly to himself, as he inspects your now clean wound. You almost say something, but decide to let him concentrate on neatly wrapping your arm in a bandage, holding the dressing down as he goes. You find yourself lost in his actions.

He drops your arm again, and you hop down from your perch, edging towards the door slightly. “Thanks…” you mutter, not quite sure what to say.

He reached into a draw, removing a small bottle, double checking the label before turning towards you.

“I want you to take these. Take one before you go to sleep, and make sure to tell me if those nightmares still plague you.” A pause. “Trust me, Frau, when I say I have your best interests at heart.” He takes another step forward, proffering the bottle at you. Your back hits a wall. You didn’t realise you had been backing up inch by inch… You reach out a hand to take the bottle, but he releases it too early and it clatters to the floor, contents rattling as it rolls away. Neither of you notice, though, as Medic is moving towards you again, dark eyes staring down at you. He places a large hand on the wall next to your head, his intentions crystal clear. You can’t even blink, as his face moves towards yours.

The first meeting of your lips was slow, his fluttered over yours, almost afraid he would scare you away. He pulls away, and your dilated pupils are all the confirmation he needs. He presses his lips to yours once again and you sigh, eyes fluttering closed. Not sure what to do with your hands, you rest them on his chest, grabbing at the front of his lab coat. His other hand moves to cradle your face, and that was how you found yourself pressed up against the infirmary wall, medics lips moving passionately against your own. An interesting turn of events, to say the least.

*

You walk into the mess hall, smell of food hitting your face. “Something smells good!” You call to Engie as he’s transferring the cooked food to serving dishes.

“Heck yeah it does!” He calls back and you smirk, taking your seat at the table. As usual, Pyro and Sniper are missing. Though, so is Medic… you note, briefly suspicious. It’s not until you’re beginning to eat, content to listen to the conversations that are going on around you that he strides through the door, lab coat missing and a very self-satisfied smirk on his face. Oh, you asshole… you think, turning your face back to your food as you feel a flush creep up your cheeks. You meet his eyes a couple of times during the meal, and he just smirks at you, raising his eyebrows for a moment before returning his gaze elsewhere. You kept your eyes glued to your food after that, and scuttled back to your room as soon as you were done eating, where you stood leaning against the door, breathing heavily for a solid five minutes as anxiety held you there, paralyzed. Eventually you managed to pull yourself away, throwing on your pyjamas and slumping into bed. If anyone noticed your quick departure, they didn’t say anything. Something for which you were very thankful. They’d find out soon enough though, whether from Medics mouth or otherwise… Unless they already knew, which was likely. You wouldn’t put it past the Spy to have hidden cameras everywhere… He didn’t raise any suspicion during dinner though. Maybe we got away with it?