Note: After a few years of lurking here I've decided to try my hand at this. This is my first time writing an actual fic so I'll be living off any concrit you're nice enough give. Also, later installments will have gore so if that's not your cup of tea here's the warning. On this night the wind was wiping harshly across the desert. Dusty wind carrying sand beat against the RED base's windows but the RED team didn't hear that. They were celebrating another consecutive victory against the BLUs. All they could hear was the sound of each other's laughter and sound of glass clinking and hitting the table. The only one who wasn't drinking or being as active as the other members was the Heavy. There was nothing wrong, he just doesn't like to celebrate without his friend, the team's Medic. Medic was absent from most of the merriment. Probably cleaning himself up from today's battle before having some post victory drinks. RED had secured the point with 58 seconds left on the clock. As Medic was waiting for Heavy to come out from respawn, an enemy Spy was creeping behind him. The battlefield stank of baking bodies and caked blood but even with all that going on Medic could still pick up the sent of tobacco on his Heavy's hand as it rest on his shoulder. Except this wasn't his Heavy. Bone saw in hand, Medic did not hesitate to strike the enemy's jugular, spraying blood all over himself. Spy reached for his wound with one hand while trying to stab his opponent with the other. A low sweep from Medic landed the Spy on his back just as the announcer proclaimed RED the victors. As Spy bled out on the ground, he gave Medic the angriest look he could muster before dying. Inebriated red faces in red clothing stumbled out of the mess hall and toward their respective quarters. Scout had a little too much to drink and was instead heading for the bathroom. Engineer kept telling Pyro he was fine and could walk without Pyro's help but Engineer's slurred speech and crooked walk wouldn't convince him otherwise. That, and drunken story time with Engineer before bed is the best. Everyone else left as they usually would, leaving Heavy in an ironically messy mess hall all by himself. Heavy doesn't like being left alone like this. It gives him time to think about toxic thoughts. Heavy looks toward the hall that leads to the bathroom in hopes of seeing Medic but only sees the struggling silhouette of what seems to be Scout. Heavy grips the bottle of premium vodka anxious to take a sip. He wraps his fingers around the cap then stops and whispers to himself, "No. Not until doktor arrives". Medic walks out of the shower stall towel drying his hair before wrapping it around his waist. In front of the mirror he fixes his hair and takes a second to rethink what he plans on doing tonight. He looks at the clock hung over the bathroom lockers then looks at the entrance doors. "Not yet, I suppose". As he gets dressed he elects to not wear wear his tie as it will take up unnecessary time taking it off later. He then takes out a fresh, clean, coat from his locker and looks it over. Medic doesn't usually wear the coat unless he plans to go out into the battlefield, but he worries that the breast pocket in his vest won't be enough to conceal a larger than usual syringe. Just then, interrupting his thoughts, someone struggles to open the bathroom door. "UUUUuuugh", Scout comes in through the bathroom entrance. "Doc? Is that *hic* you?" Medic quickly puts the coat away and reaches for a paper bag inside the locker. "Oh, hello Herr Scout!" Medic, paper bag in hand, closes the locker and walks over to Scout who is still struggling to get in. He grabs Scout by the arm and pulls him up to his feet. On his own two feet, Scout starts having trouble staying in balance. He holds on to Medic's arm tightly to avoid falling. "Oh, heh, my, it seems someone has been drinking a little too much tonight, heh heh..." Medic recognized the smell on Scout's breath as the award winning brew that only he knew how to make. Medic left a box with a few bottles of the beer on the counter in the mess hall, either as a victory drink for the team or as something to help them through incase they had lost. "Scout, you didn't drink any of zhe brew I made, did you?" "Uhh... You mean the beer in the *hic* box?" "Zhe beer in zhe box with zhe note zhat said 'Scout, do not touch'" "Uhh...*hic* no..." "I told you not to touch it." "I didn't touch it!" "I left a note to make sure." "Ya' left it on the counter!" "..." Then sudden awkward silence meant Scout knows that Medic should know better than to think Scout would listen to a piece of paper stuck on a box. For Medic this silence meant something else. "*hic*" "Right. Vell, vhatever. It doesn't matter now. Here, let's get you to a stall before you vomit all over zhe place." Medic practically carried Scout to the nearest toilet stall. Scout dropped to the ground in front of the bowl and started to violently vomit. After calming down a bit, Medic tapped Scout on the shoulder and gave him the paper bag. "What's this?" "It's a canteen filled with prickly pear juice. Drink zhis between vomiting and you should start feeling better." Scout took out the canteen and unscrewed the cap. He took a cautionary sniff. "Prickly what? This isn't another one of your crazy experiments is it?" "Ach! No, heh. I planned on drinking a lot tonight but since you apparently drank everyzhing I figured I'd give it to you." Medic gave Scout a reassuring nod and closed the stall. "Thanks Doc." As Medic was leaving the bathroom he looked up at the clock one last time before exiting. He left the bathroom with fiendish smile and a laugh that meant everything went according to plan.