Can't wait to see what you have done with it!

Praise be to the Helmet Gods! I'm saving this fic on my computer this time around.

“You could definitely use the workout!" Soldier casually reared up and popped his jaw back into place. "I've eaten marshmallows that were tougher than you!"

"Boy – I oughta beat you like a rented mule." The engineer knew that that would come up, but it hurt his feelings none the less. He unbuckled that heavy tool belt as he stepped back up to his feet and let it drop.

"Heh – I'd like to see you try!" Soldier jeered and moved his feet under his body.

"Well, up and at'em, Yankee-doodle! Let's do this thing!" The engineer beckoned for a split second before the soldier pounced. He only had to step to one side and let the Soldier clumsily loose steam and face-plant himself in the dirt behind him.

"Shoot, son! Were you born that stupid or did you have to work at it?" The engineer chuckled heartily and looked down at the prone soldier intently. He could literally see the unbridled strength in that back; each muscle clearly defined in their bristling state. Even with all the dirt and sweat sticking to him, his skin was clearly flushed; he was closer to being grounded enough for the engineer to wrangle.

"Fuck you!" the soldier lifted up and spit out blood and dirt.

"Kin hardly wait..." the engineer's eyes wandered across the soldier's backside, then made their way to the length of extension cord that he had left on his tool belt at his feet. Several varying thoughts crossed his mind; the soldier might not appreciate his affection enough to sit still for it, and he was getting pretty winded himself. Hog-tying him might have to be his final recourse.

"What was that?" By now the soldier had gotten up and turned around, still in an obvious daze.

"Nuthin'." the engineer quickly snapped his gaze back upward. It was well known that fatigue rarely stopped the soldier from fighting. The grin was still there, but it was more of a grimace at this point.

"You alright? You look a might lost there..." the engineer hadn't seen him like this before.

"Shut up and get ready, maggot! When I'm through with you, you're gonna piss lightning and crap thunder!" and with another fervent scream, the soldier charged the engineer, who promptly tripped him, then expertly brought him down, twisting his arms back in a full back hammer and mounted him like a young steer.

"Now Ah understand that yer tryin' to help me here, but I'm thinking you oughta take a break, soldier." the engineer got comfortable while the soldier struggled vainly underneath him. Feeling the man's ribs expand and contract with each breath, his broad back twitching angrily between his legs was something of great bemusement that was almost too much.

"I'll take a break when I'm DEAD, maggot!" The Soldier shouted.

"I'm serious now! We're on the same team, ya know! Plus, I think you have a concussion!"

"You can starve me, beat me, send me to die on some god-fer-saken rock, just don't bore me with your pathetic mercy!!"

"No mercy huh? That's the way you wanna play it?" the engineer didn't particularly want to, but he wasn't exactly dealing with someone who could be reasoned with, so he pulled the soldier's arms upward sharply.

"GAAA!!" the soldier cried out in pain as his shoulders were stretched in the wrong direction to the point of nearly being popped from their sockets. But even as the engineer held him up in this position and even gave his arms a rough twist, his voice quieted to the level of a repeating moan through gritted teeth – almost as though this treatment was bringing him back to reality. He even stopped struggling – arching his back into the torsion of his arms with an audible sound of relief in his heavy breaths.

"Had enough yet?" Engineer should have known better than to think that surrender was even within the soldier's grasp. The soldier pulled his knees under his body and flung himself upward and backward on top of the engineer in one loud and violent exertion The force of it knocked the wind out of the engineer, who now found himself gasping desperately under the weight of the soldier on his chest.

"That's where it gets ya, professor!" the soldier tore his arms free and rolled off of the engineer gruffly. He popped back up to his feet and dusted himself off. Upon turning around to face his opponent, he found him still on his back, gasping for air and looking up a the sky in a daze.

His torrent of fighting energy shrank to a trickle instantly. "Engie?"

"Can't... breathe..." the engineer squeaked in between coughs, clutching his chest.

"Get up! I didn't hurt ya THAT bad!" the soldier looked down at him. "Did I?"

“...h-help...” One last exhalation leaked out as the engineer fell limp and deathly silent.

"Engie?" the soldier stooped over his friend's body. He listened for a long moment – the sound of the machinery around the base was louder now than it ever was before.

"ENGIE!!" the soldier grabbed the engineer's shoulders and shook him violently. The engineer's head flopped back and forth and his hard hat fell away as the soldier shook him. But there was no discernible response from him.

He dropped the engineer's lifeless body like it was contagious. He stared at it for several seconds in his frustration, hoping that he would soon hear the tell-tale electrical discharge from the re-spawn. The soldier wasn't exactly known for his patience, however.

"DAMMIT MAN!!" the soldier quickly grabbed the engineer's arm and pulled him up.

"MEDIC!" he yelled into the air as he hoisted the engineer up and rose to his feet, strongly cradling him in his arms. He looked around for a few seconds, still seeing and hearing nothing. Everyone must have gone home already, but the medic usually stuck around and pushed paper for several hours after missions.

"MEDIC!" he called out again, marching toward the nearest building.

Pyro was usually around after-hours throwing cadavers into the incinerator, but there was no sign of him either. The smell of death was still heavy in the air as though everyone had just up and left.

“Dammit...” He grumbled angrily. There were no signs of life anywhere, despite the lights leaking out of some of the windows and the sound of machines running inside.

It was never clear as to whether re-spawn was automatic or at the discretion of someone at a control-panel somewhere. Either way, the soldier kept looking around, expecting the engineer to just come walking out of a door or lean out of a window. He stood there, holding his breath for as long as he could.

“You should not have made me do that!” The soldier turned his anger back on the sack of potatoes hanging in his arms. After still more seconds of waiting for the engineer to move, the soldier started to crack.

"You should have known better..." his voice shook.

The engineer could no longer contain his laughter.

"What the - ?!" the soldier looked down angrily.

"Hoo-wee! Ah got you good!" the engineer laughed and pointed.

"You son of a bitch!" the soldier dropped the engineer coldly. The engineer landed hard on his backside, making a minor grunt, and the soldier bent down, pushing his furious maw and pointer finger into the engineer's face.

"UNLESS YOU ARE TIRED OF BEING ALIVE, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FUCK WITH ME LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN!!" he jabbed the engineer in the chest. He was obviously angry; his teeth were bared, but there was no trace of the usual grinning sneer. The engineer could see at this close proximity that the man's chin actually quivered when he tried going back to his usual stern expression. The implication that there actually was a small glimmer of recognizable human emotion under that helmet caused the engineer to fall silent, his heart sinking into his stomach.

"Ah'm sorry... Ah didn't mean nothin' by it..." he carefully reached up for the soldier's shoulder and grasped it as firmly as his tired muscles would allow. "You're a good man, soldier. An' you're right. Ah reckon Ah shoulda known better." he felt himself getting all choked up as well.

"Yeah..." the soldier grumbled something else as well that was barely audible enough to be interpreted as words, then plopped down on the ground next to him with a tired sigh.

Yay! Thankfully you repost it. It drove me almost nuts, not to know if this masterpiece is forever lost :)

For a second there I was actually worried. Darn it, Engie.

Also, TIL torsion is a real word. Huh.

As the sun finally disappeared behind the looming wooden fronts of their compound, the two men rested on the ground in silence for a long turn while their sobering heads settled into their aching bodies. In the yellow hum of the sparse incandescent spotlights above them, the Engineer watched little licks of steam weave off of the Soldier's glistening shoulders and into the rapidly cooling night air. It was unclear if the man noticed his staring. Of course it was unclear how much grasp he had on the world around him in general. Not more than an hour ago the engineer was watching the soldier obsessively beating a BLU scout well past the point of death and into the bloody paste territory.

"How'd you know that spy was behind me?" The engineer recalled thinking that the Soldier had finally gone off the deep end when he suddenly paused his rampage and turned his gun on him. "Fer a second there, I thought you were gonna shoot me!"

"Somebody's gotta watch your back." the soldier huffed. "You're always too busy watching everybody else's, Sally."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Eng'e appreciated the notion, but the soldier's tone was confusingly condescending.

"I mean that you need to get your head out of your tool-box and LOOK BE-HIND YOU!!" the soldier raised his voice. "This is NOT a playground, Gepetto!" the soldier pointed in the broad direction of the now empty battlefield.

"Well, pardon me, Mister, but I bust my ass makin' sure that you don't fall short of ammunition out there!" the Engineer gave the soldier a good two-fingered poke in the ribs, now that he knew how ticklish he was. The soldier retracted with a poorly restrained shout, and the engineer grinned.

"Would you look at that? Ah think I found your weakness! C'mere, sissy!" he playfully darted in and shoved his hands under the soldier's arms. The soldier, of course, tried to kick himself backwards, but to no avail. In seconds the engineer had him on his back, half-laughing, half-crying.

"STOP! STOP!" The larger man struggled to regain control of himself, all the while his attacker grew more and more enthused with his hands moving so freely over his torso. Every touch seemed to throw the soldier into involuntary convulsion. Luckily for the engineer, the seem of his cover-alls came a good six inches lower than his natural crotch.

"DO NOT MAKE ME KICK YOUR ASS AGAIN, CUPCAKE!!" The soldier shouted angrily and managed to throw a punch – but he missed by an inch.

"Oh, Ah don't think your in any position to make threats, son!" The engineer laughed and used that opening to jab the soldier's sensitive underarm again. That sudden jolt caused the soldier to arch upward violently with a pained shout. His helmet fell backward off of his head and hit the ground behind him. The engineer saw the man's whole face contorted in agony for the first time. He saw the soldier's dusty, weather-beaten skin and baby-blue eyes full of tears like a pair of shining oasis' in a vast desert of red. The engineer's laughter quieted momentarily. The tickling ceased and he let the soldier collapse backward, catching his breath in long, weary expanses.

"What are you looking at?!" the soldier gnashed his teeth at the suddenly awe-stricken engineer.

The man on top numbly pulled off his goggles and dropped them at his side, unable to find the words for what he was looking at. It was the face of his friend that he had fought next to every day for months. Now here he was trying to take advantage of his unhealthy detachment from reality; selfishly pulling him down from his ivory tower of continual assault. All for the purposes of his own lust of the man's body. What he was seeing was what the man kept hidden – and it was disheartening – a crack in that armor of explosive rage exposed an unfathomable fear of the outside. What he was looking at was not the two hundred and forty pounds of blue-eyed, red-blooded, white-bred all-American hate, but a beaten and frightened man. The soldier was a lot more broken than he had previously estimated, and the engineer found himself overwhelmed with odd emotions.
Unfamiliar with how to solve problems of this nature, engineer went with his gut. He knew that he had almost a seventy-percent chance of completely destroying their friendship and potentially the whole team's professional dynamic. But that thirty percent chance at never seeing the soldier fearful again seemed worth the risk. He took the soldier's face in both hands and kissed him passionately. His mind recorded this intimate lip-pressing for about four seconds. All the while feeling the soldier's whole body clench underneath him, anticipating another sock in the jaw at every passing instant. But by the count of four, the soldier only clasped the engineer under the arms and lifted him off. He held him there, inches from his face, looking back up at him wide-eyed and perplexed, as though he literally had no idea what had just happened. He opened his mouth to speak, but clammed back up again without saying anything and turned his puzzling gaze towards the sky.

"Ah...uh..." the engineer broke this torturous silence and immediately jerked his hands away.
"Ah'm sorry....Ah don't know what came over me..."

"HORSE-SHIT!!!" The soldier yelled and the engineer almost shit a brick. "I DID NOT ASK YOU A QUESTION!!"

"What?"

The soldier kissed him back. Hard.

ARRGH
SO HAPPY
THIS FIC MAKES ME SO HAPPY
Sorry about the allcaps
But if you were in front of me I would honestly be shouting at you about how happy this fic makes me.

and the engineer almost shit a brick
It's...GAH
This is sweet, but not unbearably saccharine or even OOC. I love watching the relationship develop, mostly from Engie's POV, the insecurity and hope of having a crush on someone and not knowing if they have any romantic inclination towards you whatsoever, so just trying to be close to them as much as possible and conceal your feelings to save embarrassment and
Wait that just got more personal than intended.

Anyway I love this fic.

Oh yeah!
I was waiting for this repost, and hope this fic continues!

The engineer forgot to breathe. He reflexively braced himself against the soldier with both hands pressing frantically against the others broad shoulders and stiffened his whole body, clenching his eyes shut in the expectation of a devastating head-butt. Instead he was met with the strange vibration of the soldier's voice humming amorously through the contact of their mouths. His eyes tore back open and he saw the soldier's face had hardly softened – he was stiffly forcing himself through it with his eyes closed.

By the time the engineer realized that his lungs were burning, he was so starved for oxygen that his vision has started getting spotty. It took all of his strength to break away from the soldier's lips and he gasped loudly, sucking in the first lungful air in what felt like an eternity. The soldier gruffly yanked him back down onto his heaving chest like a life-preserver. His arms crossed over the expanse of the engineer's back, his hands spreading open like flowers and clamping tightly, making it impossible for the other to move his trunk. Evidently he forgot to breathe as well.

They relaxed apprehensively, lying there cheek to cheek, both men waiting for the other to make the next move. The engineer kicked himself for not fully formulating his plan of action, now that he found himself in this odd position; on his knees and face down in the dirt, feeling every pounding heartbeat course through his entire body while the soldier's pensive breaths blew hotly in his ear. He thought he had this man figured out, but instead he found himself just as unsure of him as he was the day they first met. There was no good in hesitating, or pulling back; he didn't have much of choice. With that soldier's iron grip, this good old boy couldn't get away if he wanted to.

The engineer turned his head and pecked the soldier's cheek. He figured that he might as well enjoy the feeling of the other man's short bristling hairs, the smell of his sweat and the feeling of his flushed skin pressed against his own before he got his neck snapped. He went ahead and tried moving an arm; reaching forward slightly and brushing his fingertips along the soldier's jawline. The soldier shivered – an unusual response for a man with more than a couple of bullets in him.

"You ain't used to bein' treated nice, are ya?" The engineer's warm brown chuckle stopped all movement for an instant. Soldier turned his head to face the engineer, his eyes still fiercely searching him.

"What are you drivin' at?" He demanded.

"Nothin!" The engineer smiled to cover his nerves. "Just makin' an observation." He ran both of his hands down along the soldier's sides and watched him drift off; getting a real kick out of watching him close his eyes and tilt his head back up toward the sky in that strange snarling dissipation. Upon reaching the bottom edge of his t-shirt, the engineer slipped both hands underneath and started making his way back up along the soldier's undercarriage. The skin covering this ropey musculature was peppered with scars, but comparatively soft to the touch and prickling with goosebumps – possibly from the chilly night air. The engineer could hardly contain himself, studying every available inch and burying his face in the soldier's neck. The soldier arched his back into his assailant with another pulling moan, and the engineer in turn spread his palms widely, rubbing that rock solid, but shaking set of abs shamelessly. He couldn't reach any further than the lowest rib with the soldier's arms in the way. They were wrapped the engineer's ribcage so tightly it got him to thinking again.

"S'matter? You scared you might enjoy this, or somethin'?" with that perpetual smile, the engineer challenged the soldier again. Soldier snapped out of his guarded passivity and glared at the engineer again.

"I am not afraid of anything!"

"Then loosen up! Yer actin' like it's your first time!"

"My first time doing WHAT?!" the soldier let go and even pushed the engineer away a little. "I've been beating the crap out of fruit-baskets like you since before I could crawl!"

The engineer froze, still straddling the soldier. Up until now all signs were pointing towards the soldier acknowledging that the fight was over some time ago. Leaning back, he even discovered the other man's erection pressing hard against his backside.

"You..." he pointed, but was at a complete loss for words. "You're ... you think we're still juss wresslin'?"

"Are you saying that you've had enough, cupcake?" The soldier just looked up at him with his brow furrowed and that familiar fearsome sneer.

"You haven't got the sense the Good Lord gave a sack of hammers!" The engineer started laughing.

"And you fight like a girl!" The soldier shot back angrily. "You can't defend yourself like a real man, so you start improvising with kissing and tickling! What the hell is the matter with you?!"

"This is too much..." The engineer's sides were splitting. "Aw, what the hell..." he wiped a tear from his eye, scooted back and started unbuttoning the soldier's pants.

"DO NOT IGNORE ME! I am asking you a question! Are you looking for a section eight?!"

"No, Ah'm looking for your dick." The engineer had discovered recently that deception was in no way necessary. "What kinda man would Ah be if Ah got you all riled up and didn't finish the job?"

For the love of god this is both hilarious and fucking cute.
PLEASE POST MOAR.
NOW.
RIGHT NOW.


baw

"Whu...?" the soldier's train of thought derailed, crashed and exploded in the instant the engineer's hands dove into his pants. It wasn't exactly a difficult task for the engineer to find what he was looking for; once the soldier's fly was open and the briefs' elastic pulled down it sprang out on it's own accord.

"Well, hot damn! Do you get an erection in every fight, or was it my lil' improvisational tactics that made this happen?" The now thoroughly tickled Texan sat back – his full weight on the soldier's legs, hands on his hips, appreciating the size of the thing for a second while the soldier lay prone before him, frozen in what could have been interpreted as shame.

"YOU DRUGGED ME!! Take your disgusting free love back to Woodstock, you coward!!" the red-faced soldier reared up, supporting himself on his elbows, gnashing his teeth like a cornered animal.

"You really are somethin' else, I tell you what..." The Engineer shook his head. "Drugs – of all the excuses..." He unceremoniously then licked his hand and reached down.

"YOU HAVE UNTIL THE COUNT OF THREE To – oh... ahhhhshhh..!" the soldier's eyes rolled backward into his head and he melted back into the ground as the engineer palmed the length of his arousal and slowly started stroking the head with his thumb. The very point of contact seemed to quiet all other sensation for the man; he grimaced and groaned through his gritted teeth as though he had just been shot.

"Easy there, partner. Juss let me take care of this right quick..." From this vantage point, the landscape of the soldier's body was spread out before him in all of it's craggy, sinuous glory. That stretched and now beige cotton shirt was still ridden well up on his chest, and the trembling, muscular core was fully exposed, beckoning him to reach out and touch the skin as delicately as he could without causing too much of a reaction. The soldier's arms flexed and groped blindly, wanting desperately to release that violent energy on anything that could be acted upon, but could only make due with the ground underneath them. The Texan indulged the rush of excitement in watching the soldier's hands claw at the dirt, take up large handfuls and clench tightly into fists. He was so strong. His body was barely able to withstand this onslaught, and yet it writhed and bucked, wanting more. The soldier's face in particular caught the engineer off guard; his confused and fretful expression begged otherwise. He still looked as though he was hurt – wearing a distant and red grimace of tearful agony that the engineer had never seen thanks to that ill-fitting helmet. He gradually tightened his grip as each determined stroke peeled away another piece of that soldier's delusional armor; between shallow, rasping breaths, a few small, pitiful sounds escaped him.

"You... you have a f-firm handshake..."

It took all of the engineer's resolve to keep up his rhythm after hearing that come out of the soldier's mouth.

"Ya don't say?" still smiling contently, though he almost choked. "Thankye kindly, mister." he picked up his speed and the soldier instantly bucked his pelvis with a start – lifting himself and the engineer off the ground for a split second.

"Woa!" the engineer laughed nervously, righting himself after landing roughly on his knee pads – for which he thanked his lucky stars. "Steady, soldier boy! Ah ain't through with you yet! Not by a damn-sight!"

"...c-carry on..." the soldier winced and locked himself down to the best of his ability – which wasn't much at this point. His back arched and thrust his lower half involuntarily, practically aching for release.

The power in this man's body was incredible – the engineer almost came himself when the gun in his hand went off. All of that caged passion poured out in more ways than just the usual – the soldier's overflow spattered hotly as far up as the engineer's chin, while in the same instance he screamed as he did before battle, sprang upward and embraced the engineer with the force of industrial machinery and bit down hard on his shoulder.

The engineer shouted in pain, but could then do nothing else with his torso compacted so tightly.

The soldier seemed to be in another world – he held that position for a long moment, his breath returning to him loudly through his nose. At least the engineer's shirt took the brunt of the soldier's bite, though he could hear the fabric being ripped as the man's jaw shakingly, but slowly broke away. The engineer sputtered as his lungs were allowed to refill with air. As his vision cleared, he noticed the soldier still sitting up, though panting heavily and propped up on his hands, looking at him like he had centipedes crawling out of his ears.

"You alright, soldier?"

"I can't... I can't move my legs!" he exclaimed. "I'm paralyzed!! What have you done to me?! MEDIC!!"

"I'm sittin' on your legs, ya danged idjut!" the engineer stiffly got off of him. Once up on his feet, the engineer stretched his sore back and popped his neck frustratedly, still feeling the tightness of his coveralls. "Shit – that's the last time Ah try and show you a good time..." he turned to leave.

"Hold it! Stop right there!" the soldier clumsily rolled up onto his feet whilst fastening and re-adjusting his pants.

"Yup?" The engineer paused tiredly, barely glancing back at the soldier. With his body bruised and stiff and his initial infatuation quieted for the moment, he was effectively numbed to whatever the soldier could have had in store for him now.

"Don't forget your gun!" the soldier by now had already picked up the engineer's tool belt and brought it to him. He stood close behind him, the holstered gun being the first thing the engineer actually saw upon turning his head. "We might have won today's battle, but the war is far from over!"

"Much obliged." He took his belt back flatly and the soldier in turn marched off for his helmet.

The engineer found his eyes following him again, watching him systematically gather their discarded belongings and patting the dust from them. He wondered where he was finding all this energy. Maybe that man's complete denial was a good thing, considering that they shared close quarters with seven other men who barely got along as it was. The engineer wrapped the length of his tool belt back around his waist, his arms straining from their recent exertion

The soldier, now covered, came back offering the engineer his effects.

"Thanks again." The engineer pulled his belt tight, but found that the deep ache in his core was too intense for his usual fit. "But you owe me a shirt!" he tried laughing it off, taking back his goggles first and fixing them back on his head, leaving them off his eyes for the darkness. He tried to be discreet in using his hard-hat to hide his pitched tent.

"Sure thing, Engie!" Soldier patted his long-time compatriot heartily. It was a little too hard for the engineer at the moment.

"Well, It's been a long day, partner. Ah best be hittin' the shower..." still feigning bonhomie, the engineer nodded politely to the soldier and started walking again.

"Good thinking! It's best to face the enemy fully refreshed!" the soldier kept pace with him.

"Are you...." the engineer stopped and looked down. "Are you holdin' my hand?!"

"AFFIRMATIVE, and what about it, civilian?!" the soldier held fast.

"People might say we're in LUV." the engineer beamed.

"PEOPLE MIGHT SAY ALOT OF THINGS!" the soldier retorted. "It's just... It's dark! I don't want you to get lost out here!" he stomped off and pulled the engineer along with him.

MOAR !!!

more please XD

"You've been yakin' on for a bloody fort-night! Come off it!" The sniper demanded.

"Excuse me! But did I include you in this conversation? I don't think so!" The scout covered the pay-phone's receiver briefly. "Anyway, long story short – the guy's eye-balls pop right out of his fuckin' head! I shit you not! Funniest fuckin thing I ever seen!"

"There's no C in the word Bullshit, you yoboes!" he leaned in so that the person on the other end of the line could hear him.

"The C is COOKIE!" the scout enunciated the word cookie by striking the sniper square in the nose with the telephone. "And that's good enough for you, pal!"*

"YOU LITTLE RUNT!!" the sniper whipped out his machete.

"Howdy, fellas!" The engineer chimed upon stepping foot in the break room, effectively saving the scout from getting his head lopped off.

"Oi! Where've you been?" the sniper noticed that the soldier and the engineer were somehow more roughed up than they were when he last saw them right after the mission.

"Yeah – there some action outside we don't know about?" scout looked over, raising an eyebrow.

"Negatory!" the soldier stated, standing erect and saluting for a moment. "At ease, men!" then he continued on his way.

"Okay, see you tomorrow!" The scout turned back to the phone, but glanced over his shoulder as they left. "Were they holdin' hands just now?"

The sniper seized the opportunity to click the receiver.

"DUDE!" the scout shouted as the sniper then proceeded to snatch the telephone from his hand. "What the hell?"

"Feck off, Tosser!" the sniper shoved him aside.

~

*some decades later the scout would be better known as a lead writer for a hit children's television show called 'Sesame Street'.

~

The engineer removed the straps of his cover-alls gingerly, finding that the bite on his shoulder stung a might more than he thought it would. He walked over to the line of sinks and unbuttoned his shirt in the half-mirror above them, letting out a tired sigh. He couldn't remember a time he was this sore since the old days on the oil-fields. The only difference of course being the onset of blue-balls. His arms shook under the strain of just lifting themselves, and he ran into a wall trying to get them to slough off his clothes, but he somehow managed to do it. Once he got to his undershirt, the fabric stuck to the open skin on his shoulder and he winced as it peeled away.

It wasn't very deep, but it was still an ugly wound – the skin around where the soldier's teeth went in was now turning purple and green from the force of the bite. He turned on the hot water in one of the sinks and ran it over his hands wearily, watching the dirt and grim wash off in semi-opaque ribbons down the drain.

The soldier had a strict hygienic routine from which he never deviated. As he always had, the engineer watched him in the mirror as he stood with his back to him in front of his locker. He maintained that stiff military precision in his posture as he removed his jacket, put it on a coat hanger and smoothed it out with his free hand before hanging it up neatly for the night. Then he took out that old cotton sham and his little tin of mink oil and seated himself on the bench behind him.

The engineer splashed some of that hot water on his face. The longing was still there; not just the physical this time. Every morning and every night up until this one he was contented with stolen glances and friendly banter. But today he saw the soldier as a man for the first time. Not the featureless, untouchable monolith that he presented to everyone outside of his head. After scrubbing the flotsam of the day off of his face, the engineer straightened about half-way, leaned on the sink and stared into the mirror – watching the soldier clean his boots one at a time. As always, this serenely focused activity in maintaining his equipment was the quietest that the soldier would be during his waking hours. There were multiple occasions when the engineer mused at how gentle the soldier was with that polishing action. He never had the courage to actually voice this to him, however.

Engineer turned the water off and came back to his locker, which was next left from that of the soldier. He sat down on that same wooden bench and embarked upon the torturous venture of leaning down, lifting up one foot and pulling off his boot. At least once he started, it was relatively easy to keep the motion going in removing his other boot, then peeling off his socks and then finally being able to straighten back up and unstrap those knee-pads. Though he was a little late in his end of the ritual, the engineer settled into the relief of returning to normalcy. As he did every time they sat side by side in this room, in this spot, the engineer knocked the caked dirt from his boots and pant-legs and admired the soldier's battle-hardened legs and back as he obliviously stripped down.

By the time the soldier had already gathered his clothing into a ball and started walking toward the laundry nook in the buff as he did every day, the engineer finally realized that he was just staring dead at him instead of going about his own routine like he was supposed to. He scrambled to throw his effects in his locker, get up and retrieve his shirts from the sink in order to catch up with him. They always washed their clothes in the same load; their excuse being that it would take less time that way. There was always a strange duality in that a globally integrated company that spent billions of dollars in the maintainable of technology that brought it's employees back from the dead and supplied them with seemingly limitless firepower and at the same time would spend so little on basic amenities – each base having only one washer and dryer for the whole place for example.

The two men stood in front of the washer as it churned. Today was the first time the engineer stuck around, still eying the soldier as he stood at blind attention for any kind of prompt – from the washer apparently, as the soldier always did. The engineer leaned back on the hamper with a long, weary exhale. The soldier, as usual, did not move; his rigid stance now acting against him in the worst way. The engineer's half-lidded eyes searched him up and down, taking in every scar on the man's back. He wondered how many of those scars he acquired as a paid mercenary compared to the raging patriot that saw the German Theater; there was a line of five or six bullet holes running diagonally across his lats that could have been put there in rapid succession by a machine gun. There were several small slits grouped around his neck and shoulders – either from getting stabbed in the back or from flying shrapnel, or possibly smaller ammunition, it was hard to tell for sure. His lower back was emblazoned with a very large wound that might have been a burn, or another shrapnel wound that became infected at some point. Eventually of course, his line of sight trailed down to the soldier's strongly huened buttocks, and the engineer's timid sentimentality was finally conquered.

"You mind if Ah ask you a favor?" he lifted his head as if released from a spell.

"Go ahead." the soldier cocked his head slightly.

The engineer hesitated, thinking that he might have pressed his luck enough for one day. "Could you help me uh... finish cleanin' up?"

"What am I, your mother?" the soldier glared at him over his shoulder.

"No! no..." This time the engineer took a moment to better describe the nature of his request. "Ah ain't got no problem washin' myself – Ah mean uh... Aw hell. Ah'm still hard up an' mah arm's tired. Ah was juss thinkin' that since... you know..." he briefly made 'the motion' at his crotch.

"Oh!" the soldier turned around instantly. "Why didn't you just say so?"

"Juss tryin' to be discreet is all." he blushed.

"Discretion is for women and the FRENCH!" the soldier stated flatly. "This is AMERICA! THE greatest country in the world! If two grown men should wish to engage in a sexual act in the privacy of a company shower, it's their GOD GIVEN RIGHT protected by the U-NITED STATES CONSTI-TUTION!" He stood with his back straight, arms down, and chest out as though he were giving a speech to an imaginary audience of other soldiers. All he needed was an American flag billowing behind him.

"..." the engineer was taken by this sudden one hundred and eighty degree turn in the soldier's attitude even more so than by his fiery enthusiasm.

i love this story so much

I missed you Helmet Party, I missed you so hard.

This....this is all kinds of amazing win that I didn't know could exist properly. I love everything about this story...keep up the amazing work~!

Oh Lawdy
There are not words
There are not WORDS

But I shall attempt to use them anyway:
-marvellous
-surprising
-delightful
-hilarious
-adorable
-I CAN HEAR THEIR VOICES IN MY HEAD AND I LOVE IT

Both men, as it turned out, had very limited sexual experience; after his little diatribe, the soldier proceeded to try and do what the engineer had done for him, but the engineer did not much like being bent backwards over the hamper and being jerked so savagely as to cause bruising, so he hit the soldier upside the head with a nearby can of starch, effectively getting his attention long enough to yell -

"Dagnabbit! Ain't you never rubbed one off before?!" he shoved the soldier back and straightened. "Gahhh damn it, boy! It's like you were tryin' to choke it!" he doubled over in pain, supporting himself with his hands on his knees waiting for it to subside.

"I thought that's what I was supposed to do!" The soldier was never very good at accepting criticism.

"Horse-shit. Was that really how it felt to you?" the engineer looked up. The look on the soldier's face out in the field ran through his mind again; that fearful, cowering expression that he had never seen before he forced himself upon him. The engineer began to hate himself.

"..." the soldier only looked back at him blankly. "Well, uh... I dunno..." he scratched his head.

"Shoot." The engineer puzzled at the soldier as he racked his brain, turning away slightly, red-faced and staring at the floor, rubbing his chin confoundedly. His furrowed brow was more in line with analytical reflection than with post-trauma. Clearly he was revisiting it; it looked difficult for him, but the fear was gone. He was just completely lacking in critical understanding. Perhaps he really wasn't used to anyone being nice to him.

"You are juss too cute when you're confused."

"Wut?" the soldier snapped out of his meditation and scowled at the engineer.

“Oh never you mind.” The engineer looked at the floor awkwardly. He knew now that he couldn't expect the soldier to just leap into his arms and ask him to teach him how to make love. The engineer's bohemian university days were over some time ago, and the soldier was about as far from a sweet blonde with flowers in his hair as one could get.

“Look, partner – don't even worry about it. Juss forget Ah ever asked.” The engineer turned away and headed for the shower.

He didn't hear anything from the soldier, and he didn't feel right looking back as he walked away. No use in twisting the knife counterclockwise if he could just finish himself with the soap and let it all be scabbed over by morning.

As per usual, although the showers had several stations, they were empty at this late hour. The squeak of the faucet handles were made that much more apparent in the deafening insulated quiet of this tile box. The plumbing in this place was pretty cheap too – the water came out freezing and took more than a minute to warm up. But once it did, it felt like the first rain after the ten-year drought. He leaned on the wall and let it soak in and run down his head and back, taking the caked dirt with it down his legs, to the floor and finally down the drain.

“You're not mad at me, are you?” the soldier's voice startled the engineer when it cut through the white hiss of the rushing water. From the lack of distance between them, the soldier had been following him the whole time, looking just as lost as ever.

“Soldier, Ah can't be mad at ya for not knowin' how to please a man.” the engineer replied, cracking a smile and lathering up his hands. “That just wouldn't be right.”

“I DO TOO know how to please a man!” the soldier retorted angrily, obviously not grasping the meaning in it's entirety. “Just let me give it another shot! Whaddaya say?”

“Slow down there, partner.” The engineer had to press his hand on the soldier's chest to stop him. “Before ya go all apeshit stormin' my dick again, lemme explain somethin' to ya.”

"Just think of it as a gun, soldier - If you choke it, it's gonna jam up on ya. Just hold it gently an give it a little squeeze. Like this..." The engineer demonstrated on the soldier, who just barely resisted his reflex to jerk away. He tightened his grip on the engineer, trying to counter his body's retreat. He groaned from the strain of it.

“Easy, easy.” The engineer felt some fresh blood beading out of that bite as the soldier squeezed down on the muscles in his shoulder. “You've juss got a hair trigger, is all.” He then released the soldier, who deflated and shook his head as though he were released from a spell.

“Gently, huh?” the soldier looked down and puzzled for a moment. With some minor hesitation, he tried a hand at the engineer's 'gun'.

“Yeah – just start out real gentle like...” the engineer had been waiting for this for too long. When the soldier palmed his half-erection, it immediately sent shivers through his body. He had almost forgotten how it felt when someone else's hands were on him in this way. It had been too long in general.

This blur of fumbling and wildly affectionate fondling led inevitably to the soldier being pressed against the tile as the hot water washed over him, running the red dust down his body and drowning out the sound of his hissing breaths.

The engineer leaned into him heavily, his arms wrapped around the other man's ribs and groping his hard chest hungrily as he ground his pulsing length slowly between his legs. He ecstatically rubbed his cheek on the nape of the soldier's neck in between his own grasping breaths.

The soldier's whole body was shivering from the strain of remaining still. It was an unexpected demonstration of trust that moved the engineer deeply. He almost felt undeserving of entrance – to truly know what made the soldier act like he wanted this.

"What are you waiting for? An invitation?" The soldier lifted from the wall and spat at the man behind him impatiently.

"Juss takin' my time." He paused, moving his hands up and down the soldier's torso pensively. "Ah don't wanna hurt ya."

The soldier scoffed. "Well isn't that sweet of you."

"Ah don't think you know what you're askin' for!" The engineer couldn't hold back a small nervous laugh at the thought. He firmly gripped the soldier's hips and positioned himself a little further up between his legs. Of course the soldier winced and braced even tighter as soon as the engineer came within proximity, making it even more difficult, but equally as electrically stimulating with the amount of compression. The rush of the constriction caused the engineer to throw his pelvis forward in a mild spasm, and the head penetrated almost by accident.

The soldier cried out in pain. The engineer threw his head back with a yelp in his sudden physical excitement. Once the flare of stimulation leveled out, the engineer noticed the soldier still rasping with crippling pain, and immediately pulled away.

"Sorry!"

"Never say sorry, maggot!" the soldier barked angrily and twisted around. "It kills the mood!"

The engineer, again having thought that he had finally figured the soldier out, stood speechless. The soldier's face was back to the playful and snarling sedition that he typically saw just before battle.

"You think you can hurt me?! YOU CANNOT HURT ME! I DO NOT HAVE TIME TO FEEL PAIN!!"

"Alrighty then!" responding to the challenge without a second thought the engineer thrust himself forward, effectively slipping in more than half way. The soldier cried out again but settled into obviously painful acceptance, the engineer struggled to keep himself from thrusting any further; unsure if it was normal to be galvanized even further by that sound. Every twitch of the soldier's body, the engineer could now feel through his most sensitive part. He shook his head, starting to see spots.

The soldier didn't say anything so much as grunt fervently and ease himself backward onto the engineer's length, his body being his true mean's of expression. The engineer shuddered in elation and flopped forward onto the soldier's wet back, letting him absorb him completely. The rush of the water was now indistinguishable from the rush of the heated blood-flow in his ears. He closed his eyes, loosing himself in all the sensation of the soldier's body – his heartbeat, his joyous breaths, his ever-present muscles enveloping him. He absently dug his nails into the soldier's chest in an attempt to keep himself in this position, and the soldier winced enthusiastically, sucking air through his teeth and arching his shoulders into the engineer's heaving chest.

The engineer finally let himself go, picking up a slow rhythmic grind punctuated by the soldier's steadily increasing moans, each urging him further and further in. There was something about the sound of his voice – it was gruff and demanding even in this receiving position. Every deep yearning moan was a direct order identical in tone with those harsh beratements doled out in every other circumstance.

By now the soldier was betraying no feelings of pain. He writhed euphorically against the tile, grinding and bucking hard, in turn causing the engineer to do the same, making a few guttural groans at each new movement. The man was obviously enjoying himself, and yet the engineer was driven to make for absolute certainty that the soldier felt the same kind of physical elation that he did at this moment.

The engineer moved one of his hands down, blindly tracing his fingertips along the soldier's trembling abs until they reached his ample erection. The soldier's response was immediate; his voice actually jumped up an octave and he quickly grabbed the engineer's wrist, squeezing tightly, but not so much trying to stop him.

"You said your arm was tired!" the soldier rasped.

"You said that Ah couldn't hurt you!" the engineer grinned, only having to brush his fingers along the soldier's shaft to issue forth more of that wonderful squirming pleasure. It was like stroking a large extension of himself at this stage – each having an instant clench and shudder to go along with it.

"What's that?" The soldier grunted in between thrusts, grinning ferally. "I'd swear there was somebody behind me a second ago."

It had crossed the engineer's mind in the past that the soldier did not make much of a distinction between sex and physical assault. But now it occurred to him that he liked that about the soldier. He really liked it.

"Ah'm about to wipe that grin offa your stupid face..." the engineer gripped the soldier's arousal firmly and thrust himself in as far as he could. The soldier cried out in what could have been construed as pain OR pleasure, depending on who was asked. Either way, before long the engineer felt himself boil over, shooting hotly into the soldier as the two of them spastically jerked back and forth. Once emptied for the second time, the soldier started to collapse.

"Woa there! Stay with me, partner!" The engineer caught him and propped him up against the wall the best he could under his own bodyweight, being considerably worn out himself. The pair rested and caught their breath for a few more seconds, still connected. This was the first time the engineer had seen the soldier so much at peace.

"You alright?" he palmed the soldier's head and turned it slightly, finding his eyes shut as though he were sleeping.

"Git this damn catheter outta me..." he slurred, out like a light.

"Dammit." the engineer pulled away, but was careful to keep the soldier supported. The soldier woke up with a start.

"GAA!! SCREAMIN EAGLES!!" in a flash he was standing on his own and had the engineer in a full nelson.

"DAGNABBIT, IT'S ME!! LEGGO!!" the engineer struggled vainly until the soldier opened his eyes.

"Whoops! Sorry engie!" the soldier abruptly let him drop.

that last update came from me. but I deleted cookies and my name didn't show. :/

I don't know whether or not to think this is amazingly adorable...or amazingly hot. Uhm...I'm going to say both. This isn't the end is it??

You've done amazing job thus far with your revised edition! It really looks like you've put a lot of focus and thought into it.

Just one thing that threw me off with this last chapter.

...It had been too long in general. This blur of fumbling and wildly affectionate fondling...

It felt abrupt, a large change in pace. One second, Soldier is getting use to palming Engineer. Next, they're all over each other.

You might be able to get by by changing the latter sentence a little to fit the new material you added, but I feel that there is so much more "meat" you could add in there, almost making another chapter out of it. How did they go from point a to point b? How did Soldier get the idea to submit to Engineer? Did Engineer give him that idea? Did Engineer use this time to prepare Soldier for penetration? Being his first time and all. Just something to think about.

Can't wait to see more!

Wow! The refurbished version of this fanfic is even awesomer than the original! The only thing that (still) bothers me in the last update is the abrupt skip to Soldier getting fucked...

>>23
FUCK! Now that shit's gonna bug me forever! Oh well life goes on - thanks for the ACTUAL criticism! Most of the time in art or literature it's what you leave out, not what you put in - but this is fucking porn! Back to work now...

"What in the hell was that all about?!" Engineer recovered from that landing and got up to his hands and knees before discovering how light-headed he had become. He shook his head in a daze, pawing around for something to stabilize himself.

"Don't get your panties all bunched up! I said I was sorry!" The soldier casually took hold of the engineer by the elbow and yanked him back up to his feet.

"Thanks, partner. But that ain't what Ah was askin'." The engineer dizzily leaned on the soldier and wiped the water from his eyes. He would have prodded further, but he resigned that he probably wasn't going to get a straight answer if the soldier didn't want to give it to him the first time around. "Where's the soap at?" he blinked and searched the floor until he spotted it.

The soldier watched him stoop back down for the soap.

The engineer straightened and started lathering up. "Guess Ah can't git mad at ya for doin' what comes natural – you're a trained killer. That's sorta what Ah liked about you in the first place." he chuckled, a little curious as to why the soldier was suddenly so quiet. He turned to look, and found the soldier standing under the shower head, absently rinsing off.

"Listen, soldier - Ah never wanted to force ya into anything, so Ah'll keep my distance if that's what you want. We don't even have to talk about it. Ah can't say it'll be just like it was before, but Ah'll give it my best..."

The soldier just stopped for a moment, supposedly building himself up with a strong inhale through his nose, filling out his chest.

The engineer's smile dropped off sharply.

"Engie, you are a sad excuse for a soldier, but your record on the battlefield speaks for itself and I respect your alternative lifestyle." The soldier, still looking past the engineer, standing at attention with his arms folded behind his back and wearing that usual jutting frown. His eyes, though distant, were clearer than the engineer had ever seen them.

"But what makes you think that you could force ME, private twinkle-toes!? You only got to play with my dick and fuck me in the ass because I LET YOU! In fact ...uh... I'llkeeplettingyou." That last string of words had a much lower volume and came out in a single breath. His face then turned bright red as he cleared his throat loudly. "I need the soap when you're done with it."

The engineer stood agape at the soldier's unprecedented, albeit still slightly delusional honesty. The soap shot out of his hand, bounced off his chin, and splashed down at this feet before he found the where-with-all to even react.

"Y-yessir." he stuttered, his heart bursting from his chest – shooting through the ceiling and making a bee-line for the upper stratosphere. He darted down after the soap. Once he had it again, he handed it off.

"Ah'm glad you let me, soldier." The shorter man stepped under the streaming hot water, still recovering from what the soldier had finally revealed to him. "You deserve a medal for that ass." he smilingly rinsed off.

~

"If you're gonna eat all the peanut butter don't just put the empty jar back in the fridge, ya fat bald bastard!!" the scout threw the empty glass jar at the heavy weapons guy's head, off of which it ricache'd, comically not causing any real damage to the huge man, who sleepily continued to chew on the bite he had just taken out of his peanut butter and banana sandwich and casually watched the jar fall and shatter on the floor.

"Must you be so LOUD first sing in ze morning?!" The medic sat at the kitchen table next to the heavy and rubbed his throbbing temples over his coffee. "Und clean zat up before somevone cuts zemselves!" he angrily leaned around the heavy in order to bark at the scout and point at the broken glass on the floor.

"JEEEEZ! OKAY, MOM!" the scout rolled his eyes defiantly, but slammed the refrigerator door and went for the broom in the corner anyway.

The spy chuckled conspicuously from the stove against the wall across the table, a small ribbon of smoke floating around his otherwise motionless head as he skillfully shifted the sizzling skillet.

"Is everysing a joke to you?" the medic turned his stinging countenance to the spy's back across the room.

"No. Just you." the spy replied coyly.

"Vhy you..." the medic seethed with clenched fists. The heavy weapons guy always found this snipping little drama between the spy and medic pathetic, unnecessary and mildly funny in that sense. But today he was hung over and wishing that everyone would shut up before he had to make them shut up.

"Good morning, gentlemen!" at exactly seven o'clock, the soldier momentarily stopped in the doorway to loudly announce his arrival in the kitchen and salute all present team mates as he always did. "At ease!"

The rest of the team typically acknowledged the soldier's entrance with single-syllabled grunt and a wince or a nod this early in the morning. Then they would ignore him and go about their business as he marched over to the fridge, opened it and chugged down the entire contents of the milk carton inside.

The spy always had a particular abhorrence for the crude and boyish way the soldier started his day. Everyone did to a degree, but from his position at the stove, directly adjacent to the refrigerator the spy couldn't exactly avoid seeing it – or hearing it. So he made an attempt to drown out the gulping sound by turning up the little radio on the counter. Normally he didn't care much for the Beach Boys, but 'California Girls' was much more tolerable than the sound of the soldier drinking an entire half-gallon of milk in one draft.

"Hey! Mornin' sunshine!" the scout caught the engineer shuffle in just as he was scooping up the broken glass in a dust pan.

"Mornin' all." the engineer drearily waved and made his way past the heavy and the medic to the coffee maker on the counter behind them.

"Herr engineer," the medic raised an eyebrow, watching him sleepily reach into the cabinet for a cup. "Did you not sleep vell?"

"Oh, don't you worry 'bout me, doc. Ah'll make it." The engineer warmly acknowledged the medic. "Ah juss turned in kinda late. Nothin' a cup o' joe won't fix." he turned back around with a smile and poured himself some coffee.

"Yeah! Engie's fine! He's just tired from fucking me so hard last night!" the soldier leaned on the refrigerator door and wiped his mouth off on his sleeve.

Everyone fell deathly silent and did not move for several seconds.

*...wish they all could be California giiiiiirrrrrrls!...* the radio blared in the absence of the usual human activity.

The engineer put the pot back down on the hot-plate with a wretched sigh.

"Yer jokin'!!" the scout pointed at the soldier, trying to laugh, but looking like he might start crying. "He's jokin' right?!" he pleaded the engineer, who was now hunched over the counter, covering his eyes with one hand in shame.

"Dammit, ya dumb-ass yankee son of a bitch! Did ya hafta go an' tell the whole god-dang United Nations?!" the red-faced engineer spun around and shouted at the soldier.

"What?! We're all adults here!" The soldier angrily looked around the room, tossing the empty milk carton in the trash.

The spy only gave a throaty laugh and went back to tending his omelet.

"Fair das ist nicht." The medic whined under his breath.

"Ughhh..." The heavy rubbed his sinuses in utter disgust, now unable to finish his breakfast.

"Ya know I always had a feelin' about you." the scout pointed at the soldier and disapprovingly shook his head with a sneer. "But YOU!" he swung back to the engineer. "I never woulda takin' YOU fer a f --"

"Don't you call me a fag, boy!" The engineer already had his pistol out and was about to release the safety.

"Woa! Easy there, pal! I didn't mean any disrespect!" the scout grinned nervously with his hands in the air, his eyes darting between the barrel pointed at his face and the uncharacteristically furious manner besetting the engineer. "I'm just sayin'!"

"Sorry, string bean." The engineer, realizing that he wasn't in Texas and he was pointing a gun at the kid that he had grown to think of as a nephew. He quickly gathered himself, shaking the bad memories from his head and holstered his weapon. "Juss don't ... just don't call me that. It's an damned ugly word."

Another stretch of awkward silence befell the otherwise cheerily lit kitchen as the radio transitioned into commercials. Even the soldier looked a bit shocked by that outburst from the engineer.

"SO – " A loud accusing voice shattered the silence. "Who among ya used all'e starch inna laundry?!" the demolition man leaned on the door frame. All present turned too look, and were met with yet another unpleasant suprise.

"Where in the hell are your pants, son?! You think it's casual-fucking-Friday?!" the soldier immediately rushed the otherwise fully clothed demo man and got in his face.

"I doona care what day it is, ya bucket-headed bloody half-wit!"

"DO NOT TAKE THAT TONE WITH ME! I will PERSONALLY crawl down your throat and tear out your very SOUL!!" The soldier roughly grabbed the demo man’s balls, effectively subduing him.

"AAIIEEE!! MOTHER A'TILLAY!!"

As those two carried on, the engineer slumped down at the kitchen table with his coffee in hand and blew out a very tired sigh. The medic watched him take a sip with some disdain.

"How did you manage?" he whispered shrewdly, evidently trying to keep the heavy from hearing.

"Weren't nuthin, doc." the engineer smirked, having had this kind of inside discussion with the medic several times before. "Ah just asked."

A typified strenuous grunt from the Demo and a reactionary sound from the soldier prompted everyone sitting at the table to lift up their mugs and saucers just in time for the soldier to fly backwards and slide across the kitchen table, taking the table cloth and whatever else was sitting on it with him as he crashed against the opposing wall.

"KA-BEEEWWWWM!!" the demo man flexed victoriously.

"Take your lumps like a MAN, you skirt-twirling drunk!!" the soldier hopped up and ran back across the table with a scream. The table wobbled under his rough trodding, but strangely stayed up as it always had. He kicked off the edge and onto the demo with a force that took the both of them tumbling out into the hallway.

"He ain't too bright, but it turns out he's up fer just about any old thing." the engineer took another sip of his coffee and leaned back onto his chair.

The medic took a moment to ponder this – but he knew well enough that the big Russian was nothing like the soldier. He was far more deliberate, an indication that he was more cognizant than that sleepy demeanor led on. After what happened in the winter of 1942, there was no possibility of a former Nazi just 'asking' a man raised by the Russian Red Army anything, no matter how many things they had been through together – no matter how many times he had kept him alive.

The heavy rose from his chair and made his way out of the room without a word, so much as a deep growl, still shielding his eyes from everything around him. The scout dodged out of his way as he plodded out the door. The warring soldier and demolition made way for him as well as he headed off – presumably for the armory. That was were he could usually be found.

The medic dejectedly dropped his head and looked at his own lap. He knew that he couldn't have said anything – but he beat himself senseless for his impotence anyway.

"Well don't that beat all." the engineer looked on, not really surprised, but assuming that the medic needed his sympathy non-the-less. "Uh... there, there?" he carefully patted the medic on the shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" the medic shooed him away.

"Shit, la-dee-damn-da!" the engineer scoffed and went back to his coffee.

"From now on, I'm not gonna make the mistake of turnin' my back on either one of you ass-clowns!" the scout, by now had pulled up a chair and was sitting on it backwards. He was resting his chin on the back rest as though it were a shield and pointing two fingers, one for the medic and the other for the engineer.

"SHUT UP, Du elendes kleines Nagetier!“ The medic screeched.

“Now why in the hell would Ah be interested in your narrow ass, string-bean?!“ the engineer retorted angrily. “Ah'd be to afraid to split ya like a damn cedar! Besides, Ah'm old enough to be yer daddy!“

"Perhaps ... I could assist you?" the spy now had his omelet on a plate and a fork in his hand and was leaning in close enough for the scout to just barely feel his smokey breath on his neck. The scout's eyes widened in surprise and he carefully extracted himself from the situation without a sound – backing off the chair, still facing the men at the table with big nervous eyes as soon as he was clear of the spy's reach. The spy, all the while, watching him slyly as he quickly spun around and zipped off.

"Hon hon... idiot." the spy chuckled and took the scout's chair, turned it around, sat on it properly, and started eating.

Nice repost but I liked the old formulation of
I'llkeeplettingyou more :)

standing at attention with his arms folded behind his back That's actually at ease. Attention is feet together, hands at your side. "Stand easy" is "Whatever, man"

skillfully shifted the sizzling skillet. BAHAHA WONDERFUL

He's just tired from fucking me so hard last night! I lost it. I lost everything.

And oh, the puir wee Medic!

This story is as ugly as a well-earned bruise, improbably three-dimensional, and merciless. ...And funny as shit.
I could all but feel the sudden drop in the air pressure of that kitchen when Soldier outed them.

Or- -no. He didn't OUT them, because he doesn't think of what they did the night before in those terms. The soldier has his own definitions, his own personal bill of rights, collaged together from half-clearly remembered allied speeches, half-forgotten history classes, his own primary-color-splashed internal mental canvas, and the strange alchemy of patriotic faith, courage, and fear of the things he can't comprehend in a way he can process.
I wouldn't even count the soldier as queer, at this point. It's like his sexuality is writing itself as he goes along, stretching around the rush of pain and combat-endorphins that he understands, folding AROUND the situations and archetypes that he can't look at head-on yet.

And the engineer's no saint, but he's not a monster either. He wants, and he cares, and he's not taking ANY bullshit, but... all his hypotheses are wrong. His perceptions and ways of quantifying the world around him rendered obsolete like the cutting of the Gordian knot, and...
Engie's got one hell of a challenge on his hands, and I do believe he likes it.

>>29

That's beautiful.

>>29 - critics are going apeshit!

Aside from some odd noises during the night, the pyrotechnic had slept relatively well.He was always the one that ended up disposing of the mangled cadavers littering the base after the daily war. The medic had his pick of the remains for 'research', of course, but ultimately they all ended up in an incinerator. The previous day's battle was a complete slaughter – almost too easy, and so the celebratory consumption of tequila cut into his duties and now he would have to go back out and finish the job before the next mission. After more than a year of throwing the dead bodies of his friends and enemies (who, for all intensive purposes, were identical) into a fire, the pyro had come to appreciate his counterpart's mask; that would be the reason why he never stepped out of any building without wearing that thing, no matter how hot it was, just as a courtesy. Seeing his own face cook just hit a little too close to home, no matter how many times he saw it. after a shower and a quick shave, he was ready to put his nose back to the grindstone and set fire to things as he saw fit. But first to head over to the kitchen and join his good friends for some breakfast. Along the way, he had to dodge out of the chaotic path of destruction being created by the daily fight between the demo man and the soldier. Normally, the close proximity of this tussle was never that much of a bother, but the fact that the demo had no pants on, made him reel a little further off of his course than usual.

"Buenos días, amigos! ¡Ai, Dios mío!" without his mask on, the pyro's voice was clear as the new daylight, which – actually couldn't be seen in this underground bunker.

"Stay out of the line of fire, Smokey Joe!" The soldier commanded, one arm wrapped tightly around the demo man’s neck, and the other punching him viciously in the gut.

The pyro picked up his scuttling pace and noticed the scout leaning against the wall next to the kitchen doorway. He looked troubled.

"Buenos días, amigo. ¿Cuál es problema?"

“You better watch yer ass in there, Mumbles!” The scout whispered and gestured towards the kitchen with his thumb. "It's like there's a fuckin' BUG goin around!"

"¿Qué?"

“You seen where fatty went?”

"No, sorry mang.”

“Shit.” the scout looked at the floor frustratedly. “I really wish you'd learn some fuckin English already. Okay, okay – you go first, and I'll cover you.” he shoved the pyro through the door.

The sound of the pyro stumbling through the doorway roused the attention of the men at the table, momentarily lifting that storm cloud of discontent.

“Mornin', partner.” the engineer raised his mug and smiled at the pyro warmly as he always did, but the dog-tiredness in his uncovered eyes was still betraying some unknown weight upon his mind.

“Que pasa!” The pyro grinned and greeted him in the standard way, always able to find some safety with him.

“Ah'm a lil' hung over, but Ah'll make it!” the engineer chuckled tiredly.

“<Hello! Good morning sir! How are you?>" The spy twisted around to greet the pyro with the usual wide smile. His accent sounded more like the prim and proper spanish empiriales' than the pyro's more swarthy mexican rendition of the language.

"<Good! Good! Hey what happened in here? Why is everyone so quiet?>" the pyro inquired, motioning around to various points of interest; the unusually sullen team, the heavy tension in the air, and so forth.

"<Oh, I'm sure it's nothing. The Axis Powers had a bit of a falling out.>" The spy explained flatly, pointing to the medic with a sigh.

"<Did the Russian forget their anniversary?>" the pyro and the spy shared a hearty laugh.

“Welp, who's up for some flapjacks? I'm starvin!” The engineer slapped both hands down on the table and rose from his seat. He was never comfortable with listening to a conversation that he couldn't understand.

“Very good, partner!” the pyro gave the thumbs up.

“Oh HELL YEAH! I fuckin LOVE pancakes!” the scout had been hiding behind the pyro until now.

"Alrighty then!" the engineer headed for the cupboard.

"Medic!" the soldier's voice gurgled as his throat was gushing blood.

"Ah tol'dim not to get cut! But'e juss kept comin' at me!" The demo sobbed, the soldier's arm draped over his shoulder for support.

"Dumkopffs..." the medic hissed, rising from his chair. Every day brought subtle nuance to those men's stupidity, but by now the medic had grown accustomed to it. He didn't even have to look up. He simply retrieved a cloth napkin from the cupboard and fold it for the purpose of staying the bleeding until he could get the soldier to the infirmary. "My skills are wasted on this team!"

The engineer looked up from the bisquik he was working on at the sound of the commotion. He had seen the soldier hurt like that before. He had even seen him with a gaping hole right through his abdomen, missing limbs and so forth. Even the first time, several months ago when the soldier blew his own foot off with that rocket launcher, the physicality of the injuries never hit home. That was probably why there was a weekly lecture for the whole team from the company executives stressing upon them the astronomical cost of the medi-gun and re-spawn technology; completely rebuilding a human being from the quantum level required more electricity than what it took to power an entire city. The engineer was probably the only man on the team that could actually wrap his head around how the technology actually worked – as in creating matter from energy through the forced deceleration of atoms. But the realization that this technology was being used exclusively for warfare while the world outside went without was often lost on him in his constant workload. Watching the soldier's life spill out onto the floor, the engineer strangely found himself worrying about what would happen if he lost this war.

The extra carbohydrates gave the scout a good edge this morning and he had taken two control points by the time the rest of the team had spread out across the open field. A BLU pyro put an end to his streak, however.

The sniper was rarely seen by his team, since he lived in an RV and only came inside to use the phone, raid the kitchen, or join his team for the re-spawn scan before the start of each mission. He did an alright job today – the BLU's usually had the advantage of numbers and would have already reached the RED base if he hadn't disappeared again and started picking the opposition off so quickly. The engineer made sure that a dispenser next to that preferred hayloft was the first thing he built.

Pyro of course, was ever-present in watching the engineer's back when he had his hands full, and the engineer had his hands full on a constant basis. Artillery always beat flamethrower, however; he died valiantly twice trying to keep a BLU heavy at bay.

The soldier and the demo man, despite their contempt for one another, had each adopted the remarkably similar strategy of yelling either 'FREEDOM!' or 'SCREAMIN' EAGLES!' and running into the open with guns ablaze. Luckily for them, the spy had long since adapted to their typical pattern and was already sneaking around ahead of them and disabling any less-obvious enemies so that they would last more than a few seconds at a time.

There was a brief lapse in RED team intensity from the big Russian having had half of a sandwich and a bottle of vodka for breakfast. It cost them the third control point, but once laughing maniacally and spattered with the blood of his enemies, for all appearances the heavy's headache was gone. With the medic joining in the sadistic revelry and consistently patching all the bullet holes in his comrade's body, it was just like old times.

These large glowing mounds of metal jutting out of the ground, called 'control points' were actually large sensory devices which, once activated by a man standing on it, scanned his entire body down to the atom and stored that information in his company's corresponding supercomputers, which were held in miles of underground warehouse-space. These devices enabled the team's re-spawn information to be updated more constantly, reducing the time between scanning in the compound at the beginning of the day and the men's inevitable death in the field of battle. Because the man that re-spawned was the man that was last scanned, not the man that was just killed, 'missing time syndrome' was often a deciding factor in the outcome of a battle. But the reason for why RED had these devices just sitting out in the open where any BLU Tom, Dick, or Harry could waltz on over and stand on it, was anyone's guess.

No matter how lucid of a grip he had on what was going on, or how the technology worked, it was always a jarring experience for the engineer to suddenly find himself uninjured in the re-spawn room. Especially when he thought that things were going well; he must have been killed while he was building that teleporter at the BLU spawn point. Hopefully the others were already using it to camp out and exterminate the BLU's as they came out at this very moment. Speaking of which; he drew his shotgun and cautiously took off for the supply room, knowing that he planned on doing that, but was uncertain as to whether he had actually done it. He noticed that no one else had re-spawned after him. He must have been alone, or perhaps a sniper took him out. Even while running around in the relative safety of the compound he felt a little naked without the pyro during active conflicts.

"Alert – our control point has been captured." The loudspeaker blared that raspy pack-a-day old woman's voice.

"Dammit, fellas." the engineer hoisted up that large and ungainly tool box and ran for the exit.

Upon stepping outside, he saw that the control point had been taken, but didn't see or hear a lot of action nearby, just the dull thup of distant explosions. flying sparks indicated that a spy had slapped a sapping device on the sentry that he had put up there.

"Spy sappin' mah sentry!!" announcing this fact was more for alerting any teammates in earshot of his own presence more so than reporting the problem to them. Of course, it also alerted the invisible spy that he was dumbly standing there with his hands full.

The 'get-your-head-out-of-your-toolbox-and-look-behind-you' speech he got from the soldier flashed through the engineer's mind upon this realization. He dropped his gear, and the BLU spy's knife blade only dug a long trench into his arm instead of plunging into his back as he spun around. Ignoring the injury, the engineer yanked his wrench out from his belt and started swinging it wildly.

That slinky spy evaded the first few swings and the engineer kept stepping back, trying to keep a good distance away from that knife. But eventually adrenaline kicked in when the engineer realized that it was just a knife; he lunged forward with an upward swing, catching the spy in the jaw and sending him toppling backward. Once that BLU snake hit the ground, the engineer beat him a few more times for good measure, crushing the man's skull a little flatter against the ground with each blow.

"Ah'm wolverine mean, you son of a bitch!" Once satisfied that movement had stopped, he wiped the blood from his goggles and caught his breath briefly. Then he shook it off and set to work fixing his sentry's twin barrels at the control point, and loading it up with more ammunition. Tending to these machines always brought him back to his more characteristically casual acceptance of his circumstances. He patted the sentry affectionately as the motion sensor bleeped back on and the turrets started scanning the landscape.

"Good ta have you back, darlin'." he then went back to his toolbox, figuring that a dispenser was in order for that river of blood flowing out of his arm. Being light-headed from the blood loss turned the process into a blur of fumbling actions. But he had done this so many times that he didn't need to think about what he was doing anymore, and the thing seemed to build itself. He barely noticed that his sentry gunned down two or three BLU scouts and soldiers before he was ready.

"Cowboy, up!" he smiled, fully healed and noticing the bodies building up around him. He then ran for the control point, shooting a BLU demo man on the way and positioned himself right on it. It blinked into solid red under his feet.

"We have secured the central control point. ALERT – the second control point is being contested." the old woman's voice echoed.

"Good night, Irene." the engineer sighed frustratedly, still having no idea what the rest of his team was doing. He must not have gotten around to building that teleporter, since the BLU offensive was still coming for him.

That one diligent sentry did most of the work, but each BLU took more than a couple of rounds before they would fall, and they each managed to fire a few shots. Before he knew it, the engineer was bleeding profusely again and his shotgun was emptied, but he couldn't leave that point for the dispenser if he wanted to keep it.

"THIS IS MY WORLD! YOU ARE NOT WELCOME IN MY WORLD!!" A BLU soldier exchanged blows with the engineer, trying to force him off the point. Engineer was usually relegated to the sidelines, and in this situation it was painfully obvious as to why. Compared to the soldier – even the shot-up BLU soldier, he was a marshmallow trying to stand up to a campfire.

"HELP!" he called out, seeing a lot of red, but unsure if any of it was team colors and not just blood.

"Alert – our control points are being contested."

"AH KNOW!! Shut the hell up!" The engineer had been well aware of the steadily increasing BLU to RED ratio for months now, but four to one added up to a lot when there were nine 'ones'. "Ah need some dog-gone help!"

"You are walking vomit!" the BLU soldier shoved RED engineer hard, and he fell down, but not off the point.

A bullet from the sentry slammed into the BLU soldier's leg, buying the engineer enough time to get back up and blind side him with his wrench. The BLU soldier finally fell away.

"We have secured our control point. Good Luck."

A sudden explosion not far from his side let the engineer know that his sentry had been destroyed by that BLU demo man running up on him.

"Aw, hell." The engineer readied his wrench, trying to figure out how he could use it to best a man with a grenade launcher.

"Doon't you worry, boyo! I'll be gentle!" the BLU demo guffawed and launched another grenade.

Without thinking, the RED engineer followed the grenades' trajectory and lined up his next swing with it. It shouldn't have worked, but he knocked the grenade back, sending it flying and bouncing off the BLU demo man’s head. It finally exploded when it hit the ground behind him, and the force of the blast knocked the BLU demo man off of his feet. The engineer, still leering from the fact that most of his blood was on the ground, couldn't tell for all the din that the fight was making it's way back to him. He held his ground, opting to focus on that BLU demo man getting back up and gesturing at him with a brown bottle. He couldn't make out what he was saying, but it might as well have amounted to 'Hey, I'm going to come up there so you can reach my head better with that wrench.' because that was what happened. In the rush of it all the engineer couldn't make out the words over the intercoms even though he could hear her voice. He heard other explosions, gunfire, and voices shouting and saw still more figures running around, but with the blood covering his goggles again he couldn't tell which team they were coming from.

The only sensory input that was making any sense was the vibration of the metal in the engineer's hand smacking against the meat of that BLU demo man He might have been dead already, but the engineer wanted to make for absolute sure, even as another blue-grey mass ran up on him and struck him in the head. He lost the sensation of pain and color fell away from his visual spectrum. But he stubbornly refused to let himself fall down again. He grabbed at the air until he got hold of some fabric, yanked the boy down and beat the shit out of him too.

Eventually his arms tired and the beating slowed to a stop. Despite the feeling that his head was full of bees, the engineer still had enough grip to look around. There were bodies everywhere and although there were small fires dotting the scene, there was little movement. He now noticed his legs shaking from the strain of keeping himself up. He heard some celebratory shouting. That meant that one side was all dead.

The engineer let his arms relax and the wrench fell from his hand. The loud clang of metal hitting metal cut through the bees momentarily. He saw a figure approaching, but couldn't quite make out who it was. Maybe if he took his goggles off... nope. Now everything was too bright. What the hell was that noise... it sounded like the neighbor’s collie got out again...

"What are you doing just standing around, private cowboy?! While YOU were sittin' yer keister playin' with yer little toys, the MEN and I were busting our balls fighting a wa-"

"Shut the HELL up, Harvey." Harvey was the name of Doreen’s collie.

"Dammit, man!" The soldier back-handed the dying engineer across the face. "I am your commanding officer, and you will address me as SIR!"

That sudden jolt brought the engineer crashing back down into his bullet-riddled body. The pain was indescribable, and the fact that he was still here and not ten-years old and back on the ranch was more than he could handle right now.

"What are you crying for, you pansy?! We won!" the soldier demanded.

“We won?” The engineer weakly reached one hand up to the soldier's shoulder for support. “But Ah only got the four of 'em...”

The engineer fell forward into the soldier, who caught him clumsily. The engineer cried out in pain on contact; every movement caused bones to scrape together and muscles to spasm.

“Engie?” the soldier cradled the engineer's upper body, trying to keep him from slipping any further downward, while at the same time trying not to hold him too tightly. Every time he tried to shift his weight just a little, the engineer whimpered pitifully. So the soldier just stopped moving altogether, totally perplexed.

“What do I do, Engie?” This was what the engineer usually heard when a situation was getting serious enough for the soldier to realize that there were actions required which were possibly beyond his capability. In this exceedingly rare instance the fact that he would step up to the challenge anyway – and even ask for help was a testament to the character that was usually hidden under all that anger and delusion.

“Ah need a doctor... dumb ass.” the warmth of the soldier's body was just enough of a reassurance to the engineer of his safety to cause even further collapse. He retreated into the soldier's chest, seeking no more than refuge from all the bees and the bright lights.

"Zis saccharine emotional display is making my teeth hurt." the spy took a snide swig off of his cigarette. Usually when a team-mate was hurt, the soldier didn't panic like this – if it were anyone else he would have told them to rub some dirt on it and get back to work.

"Ja volle." The medic rolled his eyes and readied his medi-gun so that he could heal the engineer and clean up this train wreck.

MOAR

ja volle -> jawohl, no?

This needs to continue
like
right now
*cry*

I LOVE this fic!
This definitely needs to continue!

So yeah, I'm just going to give this a big ol' bump.

OH MISTER OP. SWOON.

Been running a fever for the past two days. this is all I got for now.

--

“That was too close. CLEAN UP THIS MESS AND REPORT FOR DEBREIFING.” The administrator sounded crass as usual at the end of the scurmish. Receiving orders such as this usually meant that the BLU base had been effectively disabled, and it was time to incinerate its remains and move on to the next.

The engineer heard her more clearly now that he was being bathed in radiation and amino-acid based nano-bots. As the pain faded he also began to realize that he was hanging in the arms of the soldier like a southern bell swooning from the heat. He pushed off as soon as the strength in his limbs returned, and the soldier watched him dumbly as he shook off the nausea of his body's artificially accelerated repair.

“Thanks, doc.” the engineer nodded as casually as he could to the medic, who looked to be sneering a bit more than he usually did when he was healing someone. He looked around, finding the same uncomfortable faces on his team that he saw first thing that morning – on everyone including the demolition and the sniper, who would have otherwise remained oblivious to his overt difference for a bit longer if they hadn't seen the way he was draped all over the soldier. The pyrotechnitian's face was not visible, but he was obviously staring very hard and his clenching posture was clearly that of a man who just saw his buddy from work seek comfort in another man's arms in an atypically familiar way. The engineer could literally see the man's macho catholic upbringing eating away at their friendship at that very moment. So he gave up and turned back to the soldier, who oddly seemed totally unaffected. He was completely focused on the engineer as though he hadn't even moved his eyes off of him this whole time. The engineer could not find the right words. So he started moving - if those control points were remain for the exclusive use of RED company, their engineer would have to return to that blood soaked sand box and make repairs to the sentry guns dotting the grounds.

“That'll do, soldier. You heard the lady.” He couldn't just leave the soldier hanging, it wouldn't have been right. The engineer pensively patted the soldier on the arm as he walked past him.

“Understood!” The soldier clicked his heels and stood at attention, letting the engineer leave. “Secure the perimeter, boys! Move out!” he barked in the general direction of the rest of the team, who only returned the order with questioning looks.

“Duh – yes sir, Sergeant Cockfag!” The scout didn't salute so much as mockingly slap his bent wrist against the side of his head and cross his eyes. He got a few small snickers from the others.

“Now what in the hell was that?!” the soldier scooted down from the control-point towards the scout, who stood his ground. “Smells like we've got a raw sewage leak somewhere!” He stopped not even an inch from the scout's face, which was still defiantly cross-eyed and buck-toothed. “If I'm not mistaken, it's spewing right out of your mouth, private twinkle-toes!!”

“Well, excuse me, pal! I'm just callin' it how I see it! And right now I'm seein' a fuckin' FAG standin' right in front of me!” the scout chuckled back.

“I WILL NOT TOLERATE THAT KIND OF FILTH IN MY UNIT!!” the soldier emphasized the word 'filth' with a swift and decisive knee to the scout's goin. The scout let out a high-pitched squeal and fell to his knees. Demolition, heavy artillary, and pyrotechnics immediately retracted their laughter and reflexively shielded themselves. The sniper, the spy, and the medic were already long gone, tending to more worthy business.

“ON YOUR FEET, MAGGOT!!” the soldier demanded.

“What the hell?! I think you popped one of 'em!” the scout doubled over in pain, hands between his legs and still on his knees.

“I SAID ON YOUR FEET, MAGGOT!!” the soldier grabbed the scout by the ear and yanked upward.

“AAAWRIGHT! Awright! Jeez!” The scout painfully shot up on his own, instinctively trying to keep that ear attached to his head.

“Do you kiss your mama with that mouth, son?” the soldier demanded, still pinching that ear tightly.

“OW! Ow! Not so hard, fag!” the scout grinned through the pain.

“I ASKED YOU A QUESTION, PRIVATE!” The soldier socked the scout in the stomach with his free hand. “AND WHEN YOU ANSWER ME, THE LAST WORD OUT OF THAT NUCLEAR WASTE DUMP THAT YOU CALL A MOUTH WILL BE SIR, AND IT WILL BE LOUD! DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?!”

“Yes sir, Sergeant Cockfag, SIR!” The scout coughed.

“Well then I guess you leave me with no other choice!” the soldier started marching back to base, dragging the scout with him by the ear. “I can only hope that we have enough soap to wash out that filthy mouth of yours!”

“Woa! Woa! If you think you're gonna put soap in my mouth you've got another thing co-OOW!” the soldier gave another strong yank before the scout could finish. “Okay! I'm sorry! That's my ear!”

“It's too late for apologies, maggot!” The soldier gave the scout a little twist upon stepping through the nearest door. The scout cried out in pain, his upper body following the torque of the soldier's arm. “Learn to take your lumps like a REAL man!” He briefly took a moment to turn his irritated scowl on the other men standing numbly in a row right where he'd left them. “What are you num-nuts staring at?! Dismissed!” He hoisted the scout up under his arm and marched inside.

“Help me!” the scout pleaded them as he disappeared into the compound.

“I need hair of dog.” the heavy turned away from the afternoon's entertainment and pulled the remains of that bottle of vodka from his ammo bag.

“Couldn't agree with ya more, lad!” the demolition took back a long swig of whiskey from the bottle that he perpetually had handy.

The pyrotechnitian pulled a joint out from under his collar and lit it with the pilot on his flamethrower.

“Por que...?” he muttered, peeling off his mask and tremblingly bringing the reefer to his lips.

What is this? A new chapter of Having fun with Helmets? And it wasn´t posted in the old thread? (Or if so it wasn´t worked over like this now?) You made my day :D And its jus 00:01! ...
Dear God what shall i do now with the rest of the day?

i love this thread! So much!

Haha! Great update! :D

Feel better soon, KGB. We love this fic of yours so much. I know I appreciate you sharing it with us!!

I'm a new reader, and I have to say this fanfic is awesome!

Thank you so much for doing it. And I hope you get better as well, KGB.

I love you so much at the moment. Hope you get better soon, can't wait for the next part.

Stupid holiday - stupid court dates

--

Normally, for the engineer, those machines that he had painstakingly designed, precision-fabricated and assembled were distraction enough from any of those pesky personal troubles. The guns would be back up in no time at all, tirelessly and efficiently pumping bullets into anything from BLU company that made the mistake of getting too close. In addition, the defeated BLU occupation left a veritable treasure trove of abandoned equipment lying around that missile silo that they had poorly disguised as a distillery. Of course, for each downed turret, he had to run back to his shop for supplies of ammunition and spare parts. He figured that he might as well make it one trip of it if he hauled that busted teleporter back with him. Poor thing looked like it had been stomped on by an elephant, but the metal could still be salvaged. The walk unfortunately let his mind wander back to sharing space with the soldier. Of course, he enjoyed it. But one also enjoys getting drunk. That spontanious whirlwind of intimacy and passion was something that came from a lapse in the engineer's strength of will. Hell, they even went their separate ways after the deed – returning to their respective bunks and starting the next day as they had started every day previous. Then the dumb son of a bitch went and told everyone that they had gay sex like they were in some kind of relationship, and now all the other men knew that he was a queer, and it was quickly dissolving their respect for him; respect that he had to bust his balls to earn because of his short stature and his lack of head hair. He should have just let the man be.

He tried to bring himself back down to the job at hand – but honestly, there was nothing to consciously think about – this was routine. He had salvaged metal and erected machines day in and day out for innumerable weeks and months – something that would be nearly impossible for anyone else, but he just had to be a genius and be able to solve all these problems of strategy and resource in his sleep. He was good at his job, and he prided himself in it, but now it felt like nothing at all. He couldn't bury himself in it like he could before with the weight of his mistake bearing down so heavily. He envied the soldier – who didn't appear to have the need to negate practical problems in order to protect himself – rather, he completely rejected reality and substituted his own. He began to wonder where the soldier went, and hoped that he wasn't too broken up about the way he blew him off for the sake of reinforcing his masculinity to the rest of the team. Dammit, he was thinking about the soldier again. All he had to do was salvage this equipment and report back. He hoped that Ms. Pauling would keep the debriefing on the topic of that clusterfuck of a battle, maybe fill him in on what happened to this teleporter before he re-spawned, but knowing that administrator, his unprofessional discretion was bound to come up in the worst way possible. The engineer pondered shooting himself in the foot just so that he would have something better to worry about.

Back at the base, the hum of the ventilation overpowered any sound of the minimal staff's activity in the expanse of the complex. The engineer's workshop was adjacent to the incinerator room, and so as he drew closer, he noticed that the familiar smell of burning bodies had another element in it that he hadn't smelled in a long time. The door was still open, the otherwise dimly lit room glowing with the orange fire of the incinerator.

The pyrotechnitian had apparently finished his job early as well – the heavy weapon's specialist must have lent a hand, since he had over turned that bloody wheel-barrow that was typically used to haul carcasses, and was leaning on it, catching his breath and mopping his brow on his sleeve. Across the red spattered expanse of lenolium tile leading up to the incinerator, the pyro stood in front of the 4-inch thick glass window of the incinerator door, very quiet, his uncovered, slicked black hair an indication that he didn't plan on returning to the outside, smoking a cigarette, and supposedly staring at the burning bodies inside. The engineer hoped that he could sneak past them on his way to the shop without incident, but the heavy weapon's guy seemed to have a sixth sense about his surroundings, and twisted around to face him in an instant.

“Privet, malysh!" the big man was sweaty and droopy eyed as usual, but his cheeks were rosey and he had an odd sloppy cheerfulness about him that was not exhibited outside of battle. He was cleary drunk, and he must have been forgeting to speak english. "Prihodite! Syadʹte s nami, tovarishch!" He extended one of his huge arms and beconned him to sit down on a wooden crate next to them.

"Uh... howdy there, big fella. Ah'd love to stay an chat, but Ah got some work to do yet..." the engineer grinned nervously, held up his armful of twisted metal and nodded toward the door to his shop, not even a yard away.

"OH, COME OFF IT, Ya big fat LEHDEH! Ah got a bone ta pick wid yew!" the demolition slurred. He had apparently been there the whole time, sitting on the floor behind a large spool of steel cable. "Ah feel a song coomin on, annis bloody thing soonds like a wet cat bein slapped against a washboord!" he held the engineer's guitar aloft by the neck in one hand.

"Now what in the hell are you doin with mah gui-tar?!" the engineer dropped the broken teleporter angrily and speeded towards the group. He snatched the instrument from the demolition's hand and inspected it carefully.

"Aw, what did you do to her?! The strings are all loose! Ah oughta learn you a thing or two about respectin' another man's property!" The engineer quickly re-tightened the strings, absently seating himself on that wooden crate next to the heavy.

"HEY! Gallo! How you doin?!" the pyro always had the whitest smile, and his brown eyes were rarely open any wider than a squint. Now the smell hanging in the air was ringing a lot more bells.

"Good, partner. How bout yourself?" the engineer was still a might nervous about looking the pyro face to face after what had been seen. He absorbed himself in twisting the tuning pegs and minding the tension of the metal strings. It must have been the loco weed that made the pyro think that the engineer was still worthy of being called a rooster in spanish.

"Much better now!" he cheesed and held up the half-smoked joint pinched between his fingers. "Take a hit, you look like you need it, mang!" he offered.

"Well, if yer gonna twist mah arm." The engineer smiled and carefully took up the offer without hesitation. This small gesture of friendship was enough to lighten the load of worry – it was good to know that, at least for the moment, the pyro didn't care about what he saw earlier. That, and the engineer really wanted to wind down, despite the impending meeting with the exec's. "Thanks, partner."

"Hey, it's all good!" The pyro shrugged. He watched the engineer take a long, smooth hit off the reefer, expertly hold it for more than a few second, then release it gracefully without so much as a tick. "Madre mi dios, Gallo! You hit that like a pro!"
"S'been a while." the engineer leaned back slightly as he handed the joint back, his head already starting to swim in the smoke billowing from his mouth and nose. "With the number of years Ah spent in college, statistically there was no way to avoid bein' exposed to a wide managerie of illicit substances. Less juss say that mah 'higher' education referrs to more than just eleven PHD's." He stummed the guitar once, testing the sound. It was still a little off, so he went for the pegs again. "An' you know how Ah am about tryin' new things for the sake of science!"

"Did you take notes?" the pyro joined him in a chuckle, a new cloud of smoke forming around him as he passed the joint back..

"Actually Ah did – of course, once Ah came down from the effects Ah couldnt read most of 'em. Those were the days, Ah tell you what." the engineer held the joint in his mouth for a second while he stummed the guitar again, this time the sound was right where it needed to be. He took another hit. Those really were the days; away from home there was no distraction from his studies, and he was free to experiment in just about anything without shame, or worry about accidentally shooting up the barn again. He passed the joint back and started playing his usual low, steady tune. He did it almost to drown out the onset of the memories of what happened after he returned home.

“The burn was big wi' spate
And there cam tumblein' doon,
Topsalterie, the half of a gate
An auld fish-hake, and a great muckle skate,
And a lum hat wantin' th' croon – PLAY IN TUNE, YA BASTARD!” the demolition had a lovely baratone when he wasn't yelling and shaking people.

“HEY! Ah will play what Ah wanna play, WHEN AH WANNA PLAY IT, you got that?!” The engineer angrily shoved the demolition off and pointed a scolding finger at him.

“Don't fret, boyo! There's no need to shout!” the demolition threw his hands up sloppily, looking rather defeated.

“Davaĭte petʹ “Katyusha”!” the heavy chimed in .

“Ah don't even understand what you juss said!” the engineer turned his angry finger to the huge drunk bear standing in front of him. “Act like you got some god-damned sense, bwah!”

The engineer huffed and returned his attention to the instrument on his lap. His thoughts again returned to the soldier, but now it didn't seem quite as wrong as it did before he started smoking. He at least still had the sense to avoid directly bringing it up, even though he was now almost totally consumed by the persistant image of the man's eyes. That telling, needing look that just tugged at him like a wayward child.

“Shoot. Ah don't know that many songs, so Ya'll are just gonna have to sit with it. Lemme at that whiskey, son.” He knew he had to fill that awkward silence with something. He reached for the demo's bottle, and the demo obliged. He took a swig off of it and handed it back after shaking off the heat and wiping off his mouth on his sleeve. “Thanks, buddy. Ah git nervous singin' in front of people. Ya'll can sing along if ya know this one.”

The battle-weary trio watched curiously as the engineer started off with that steady strumming again, figuring that the old Hank Williams was the most familiar to his compatriots. In all this time RED's company mercenaries had worked together, the engineer had played that guitar, but had never actually sung in front of the rest of the group. This didn't matter that much to him at all right now; he just needed to fill the air while he tried to get some enjoyment out of this calm before the storm.

“Hear that lonesome whippoorwill
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is whining low
I'm so lonesome I could cry...”

He didn't care if he was in key, or why he couldn't think of anything less damning; he had recently decided that nothing mattered. The other men exchanged some questioning looks, but it was unclear if they were thrown off by the song itself or the engineer's rusty singing voice. At the instrumental refrain, he just did his best to ignore them and play. It didn't quite sound the same without the steel, but he figured that it didn't matter either.

“I've never seen a night so long
When time goes crawling by
The moon just went behind the clouds
To hide its face and cry...”

It just came out; this song that he originally learned playing along with the crackling old radio back in Tiny Bee Cave now resonated a little deeper than it did then - even than when it played muted, but almost knowingly as he first observed the soldier doing his compulsive one-person drills in the yard just outside his shop all those months ago. Every minute since then, he was both teased with further prospects, and tortured by them.

“Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves began to die?
That means he's lost the will to live
I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

He knew that the soldier wanted to follow him to bed last night. But he pushed him back anyway. Even after all that. His logic then was to keep up the professional dynamic of the team – wanting desperately to avoid creating a monster. But the soldier quickly made this good-ol-boy realize that, despite his education and his hard knocks, he didn't really comprehend the true definition of a monster. A monster was the group of once-close boyhood friends that beat him up when they found out about his disinterest in girls, and how quickly word spread and ended up costing him his job of ten years. A monster was that burning cross in his folks front yard, and the incessant taunts, fights, and property damage from the only people his whole life. A monster was what he became just before he shot up his best friend and the watering hole that everyone in the town frequented. What was unfolding now was nothing compared to that. This multinational team that he barely knew outside of work was far more compassionate than people he thought he knew his whole life – just because they didn't care. And that soldier – now he was all the engineer could think about. He struggled to keep his voice from cracking

“The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

Once he finished, he noticed that the pyro and the demo were seated in front of him like they were listening to the gospel at sunday school – not a dry eye between them.

Best too early Christmas present ever :D

I'll be damned if that song didn't just become ten times more heart breaking.

>>46

I won't lie. I cried too.

The fact that I've cried to that song before...

KGB, you broke my heart.

...

Do it again?

This fic is so beautiful.

;o;

My 0_0 turned into a 0u0 today.

“Sorry fellas – was mah singin' that bad?”

“No, no, wey! That was beautiful!” The pyro sniffed, wiping an odd tear from his cheek.

“That was the saddest thing ta ever beset my ears, lad!” the demolition sobbed and readied for another drink. But then he paused and looked at the bottle angrily. “God! Why do aye even bother tryin' ta douse this pain anymore?!” he threw it and it smashed against the incinerator.

The heavy declined comment because he was absorbed in the delicate maintenance of his massive rotary machine gun and whispering sweet Russian nothings to it.

“Ai yi yi, you make me miss my family, mang!” the pyro, still recovering, dug around in his front breast pocket until he found the creased photograph of his wife and kids. He gazed at the thing forlornly as the demolition sloppily wrapped his arms around him.

“Aye miss yer family too, lad!” he said. “The cutest, most well mannered bunch of midgets I've ever had the pleasure of meetin', they were! And your wife – she's the kind that only poets of the highest caliber can properly describe!”

“Que?!” The pyro dried up quickly.

The engineer watched them carry on, and thought about playing another song – but seemed to have lost the motivation. He regretted getting so fucked up before a debriefing.

“Hey, are you guys gettin' high in here?!” the scout's voice cut through the sound of the pyro choking the demoman. When the group turned to look at him as he approached, they saw that he had a black eye, was soaked from the waist up, and someone had written the word 'virgin' on his forehead in what appeared to be felt marker.

“Ai, ching-ga! What happened to you?!” the pyro inquired, laughing loudly.

“That fuckin' soldier! That crazy S.O.B held my head under the fuckin' kitchen faucet and shoved a fuckin' bar of soap down my throat! THEN he had the BALLS to call me a brat – like he's my fuckin' dad and shit! Can you believe that?! I'm gonna be burpin' bubbles for a week!”

“Sounds like he's taken a likin' to ya, son!” The engineer couldn't stop himself from giggling a little. The others joined him in it.

“Hey, shut the fuck up, hard hat! You need to keep yer fuckin' boyfriend on a leash if ya know what's good for 'em!” the scout pointed.

“STAY ON TASK, MAGGOT!!” the soldier's voice rang in from behind him. He shot into the room and appeared directly behind the scout, his grinning maw just barely an inch from the boy's ear, as if by magic. The scout immediately sprang to attention.

“Sir, yes, sir!” he shouted, his voice cracking awkwardly. He then stiffly adjusted so that he was properly facing the engineer. “Enge', I'm sorry I...”

“Louder, you sniveling fruit basket! The man has to hear you!” the soldier marched in and stopped an inch just behind the scout, the kid flinched under every syllable of the soldier's orders hitting his ears.

“SIR, YES SIR!” the scout shouted back fearfully. “ENGINEER – I'M SORRY I CALLED YOU A FAG!!”

“AND?” the soldier yelled right into the scout's ear and the boy's face clenched painfully.

“SIR! AND IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN, SIR!” the scout was visibly fighting tears at this point.

The engineer was completely dumbfounded; looking at that skinny kid shiver, he wanted to say something about the abuse, but at the same time, he was taken by the effort put forth by the soldier.

“Uh... well thankye kindly, scout.” the engineer said finally, after some seconds of gawking. “Weren't no harm done.”He did have a gun to this kid's face earlier that day, after all.

“That's what I thought! For a while there, I thought you were going to puss out on me again, funny man! But today you've done me proud by doing the right thing, son.” The soldier patted the scout on the shoulder, and the scout flinched under the sudden contact. “Now go dry yourself off, you disgrace!” the soldier barked and shoved him to the side.

“Sir, yes, sir!” the scout saluted, his face now clearly mourning the death of his own dignity. He barely got into his first step before the soldier gave him a hard boot to the seat of his pants that nearly knocked the kid off his feet.

“Double time, private! Hup to! Hup to!” he followed. “I want you in tip top presentation for that debriefing!”

The scout only whimpered something nonsensical and jogged off with the grace of a scared antelope with a ruptured disk.

“Now THAT is what I want to see! The fear of god in the eyes of my subordinates always fills me with pride!” While the soldier stood with his arms folded behind his back, watching the scout run away with a satisfied smirk on his face, all present drunk stoners looked on in utter confusion – several things came to their minds that should have been said, but their mouths just didn't follow through. The engineer in particular tried to take some initiative; he at least stood up.

“That warms my heart, soldier. But you didn't have to go an do all that. Scout's a young-un yet and Ah reckon he woulda come around on his own...” He felt the others' eyes upon him, and he had a feeling that embarrassing himself any further with the truth of what was on his mind was not something that they would appreciate. The way he wobbled under the influence of that Mexican weed and that cheap six-month-old blended whiskey must have been silly looking enough.

“Even the best chain is only as strong as it's weakest link, and what holds this chain together is discipline! That kind of sass-mouth is a clear lack of discipline – and is therefor the gateway to COMMUNISM!!” the soldier replied forcefully, and finished his lecture with a clear reference to the giant Russian man, obliviously sitting on a crate a yard or two away with his gattling gun positioned between his legs, deeply and sensuously inserting a long, bristled cleaning implement down one of it's barrels while lovingly rubbing his cheek against it's metal surface and caressing it's drive motor. “I tell you it makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it!”

The pyrotechnitian and the demolition were still sitting on the floor and gaping up at the soldier – they seemed to each have questions right on the tips of their tongues. He puzzled back at them for a second or two, then sniffed the air. “Smells like a paper mill in here!”

The pyrotechnic and the demolition snorted in unison and started giggling uncontrollably.

“What's so goddamned funny?!” the soldier demanded. “I've got half a mind to take both of your giggling skulls and crack them together! How funny does that sound?”

“Yoo've got half a mind PERIOD!” the demolition guffawed loudly and fell backward.

“Ai, Dios, detente! Mi lados daño!” the pyrotechnic threw up his hands, struggling to stop laughing.

"THAT'S IT!! If I have to crack some skulls, I will!" The soldier shot forward and grabed the pyrotechnic and the demolition by the neck one to each hand. Luckily for him, their inebriation slowed their reaction time. The laughing didn't stop, so much as gradually quiet as their windpipes were constricted in their stupidly playful efforts to defend themselves against the soldier's furious strangling.

“Hey, uh....” as much fun as it would have been to watch this unfold, the engineer was more interested in getting the soldier to himself – for at least ten minutes. Twenty tops. But unfortunately, that was unlikely to happen very smoothly at the moment, so he resigned to the work at hand that he should have been doing in the first place. “Ah gotta hit the old dusty trail – Ah never thought of buildin' machines that kin fix themselves...” he said. He carefully slung his guitar over his shoulder, swung it onto his back and started to navigate around the crate he was sitting on with some difficulty.

“Roger that!” the soldier's attention darted back to the engineer, who just barely stepped over that crate without falling over and went for the busted tele-porter that he dropped earlier. Once he had it, the engineer straightened dizzily and noticed the soldier standing right next to him. The soldier's latest disciplinary cases rolled on the floor in that same spot, coughing and gasping for air in their unexpected reprise.

“What kin ah do for ya, partner?” The engineer asked flatly, not entirely registering anything at the moment. In a way he expected the usual 'We need a ___ here!' order.

“Don't concern yourself, civilian! I'm just providing you with an armed escort!” The soldier replied, strangely not holding a weapon of any sort, giving the engineer the odd mental impression that he wanted to hold his hand again.

“Alrighty then.” He chuckled and resisted the urge to take the soldier's hand for the moment, instead continuing his walk back to the workshop. “Ah didn't realize that Ah even needed an armed escort while Ah'm walkin' around in the safe zone, mister.”

“Standard procedure.” the soldier replied again without hesitation.

“Since when? Ah thought 'standard procedure' was patrolin' the outside perimeter. It makes more sense to neutralize the enemy before they get into the base, am Ah right?” The engineer discreetly looked over his shoulder, just to make sure that the two of them had cleared the door.

“Are you questioning my methods, private cowboy?!” The soldier growled angrily, his arms flying back into that standoffish fold behind his back.
“Well – yeah Ah guess so.” the engineer was never one to lie about anything, but in this instance he especially felt like he owed this kind of honesty to the soldier. “It juss seems a might strange that you'd be focusin' so much on mah safety over everything else all the sudden.”

“Understood.”

The engineer, once he processed what had just been said to him, was suddenly smacked upside the head with the realization that he never would have expected the soldier to back down from him. He instantly understood that he had just taken the perfect opportunity to hurt the man; that he had just jabbed the soldier in the most tender part of his exposed self when he had voluntarily just taken his chest plate off for the first time. He could almost feel the soldier's ivory tower creak, rumble and groan in imminent collapse when he noticed those loud boot falls come to an abrupt stop. He stopped and turned his head, catching the soldier at attention and giving a salute that was somehow more hard and cold than usual. Then in this painfully stretched moment, the engineer dumbly watched the soldier spin around, harshly drop his salute and lift one foot to start off walking.

This was the exact same reaction to being told that the engineer's bunk was just barely big enough for one person, and to being told to get back to work. But this time, the engineer instinctively stopped the soldier from leaving. It was one thing to keep things professional, but to flat out ignore the man just wouldn't have been right. The two of them stood almost frozen in time with the soldier in mid step and the engineer anchoring him with his one free hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“Hold on there, partner.” the engineer tried to get the soldier's attention without rousing anyone else's.

“Yes, sir?” The soldier turned his head, but his face remained obscured by his collar and helmet.

“Shoot...” he felt like he had to say it, but he just couldn't. The very thought of putting that in front of the soldier filled him with fear. He hurried for the key to his workshop (not realizing that he had just dropped that chunk of twisted metal again in order to do so), but once the glorified garage-door-opener was pulled from his pocket, the hanger door already being open, showing that the overhanging florescent lights were on, reminded the engineer that the demolition had already been there. So he just stepped in, steering the soldier along with him and effectively forgetting all about the remains of that sad little teleporter. Once inside, he turned back to the soldier and carefully went for the hand hanging closest to him. Upon contact, the soldier's arm stiffened. The engineer, unsure of the reaction, again went with his gut and forced himself through what he had started, ignoring shame. He took a firm hold of the soldier's hand and looked the man straight in the face, finding the visible lower half of it was pursed in what could have been anger - or fear.

The soldier quickly squeezed the engineer's hand back. Again, supposedly just following. His grip was strong as ever, and the heat in his skin almost seemed to course it's way through the engineer's and even up through his arm. The engineer nearly forgot what he wanted to say. There were so many things and so many ways for them to come out wrong.

The five foot seven inch Texan yanked the six foot soldier through the door and quickly hit the control button, closing the door behind them.

“Ah just...” The engineer started again, but found it easier to just tell him with his free hand. The soldier froze as soon as the engineer's fingertips touched the skin on his neck and lightly brushed the stubble on his chin, his expression shifting instantly from a scowl to a befuddled, straight-mouthed mask. The engineer drank this in for a moment, just barely able to see the man's eyes looking back down at him from under the lip of that helmet. They were so bright – clearly the gears were turning and he seemed primed for attack, but he did nothing. He didn't even make a sound. “Ah can't...”

The soldier finally sprang forward and hugged the engineer tightly, lifting him off the ground. The engineer wrapped both arms around the soldier's thick neck, holding on in a strange, desperate joy as they pressed lips for nearly a minute.

“Ah juss can't get enough of you.” the engineer broke away just long enough to say those words. The soldier released the engineer slowly and clumsily, breathing heavily and urgently searching the engineer for anything to run with. The engineer unbuckled the soldier's bandolier and pulled his coat away. Then he drove his hands straight into the slit, intoxicated by the issuing smell f the soldier's sweat. His body was just as hard and warm to the touch as before, and ticklishly retracted from the engineer's hands groping at them in that same way. There was no way in hell that this would ever get old.

The soldier pulled down the straps of the engineer's coveralls rather ungracefully. The engineer steered the preoccupied soldier toward one of his metal work tables and shoved him backward onto it, laying into him hard. He feverishly ground into the soldier, running his open palms up and under the soldier's t-shirt. Climbing up on him slightly, propping himself with one knee on the tabletop, he sweetly kissed the soldier's neck, and the soldier moaned lowly in between those shallow breaths. That initial heat and deep vibration was nice, but the engineer decided to go ahead and sink his teeth in just to gauge the soldier's reaction. What a reaction it was.

The soldier groaned and winced, but arched his body into the engineer and latched onto his shoulders with both hands as though he was trying to keep himself from falling. He growled and bucked his pelvis in a forceful and unrestrained manner. The power of those thrusts caught the engineer by surprise yet again, but he was soon taking a firm grip on the soldier's hips and taking satisfaction from the soldier's fervent moans as he thrust back, their arousals pressing onto each other through the fabric of their pants. This was not a comely position for the soldier to be in; he held tight to the engineer, almost using him as a shield as he lay there belly up. The engineer lifted his head from the soldier's neck to better access his belt, but found himself immobile. The soldier was holding on tight and shaking like a leaf.

“Relax, partner. It's only me.” the engineer's low, smiling voice brought the soldier out of that prickling defensive trance. He almost impatiently pushed the engineer up and off of himself, pivoted back onto his feet and started unbuckling his belt himself. The engineer took this as open invitation to yank at the soldier's pants until the soldier, without a second thought, just started pulling them down. The engineer had to step back as the soldier kicked them off over his boots, but followed suit in unbuckling his belt and letting it fall heavily to the floor. Once unleashed, the engineer pushed the soldier back onto the table and kicked a short toolbox over so as to properly meet the optimum height for leverage. He ran one hand down one of the soldier's legs and lifted it at the knee along with him as he stepped up on the toolbox. All those daydreams finally coming into good use.

The soldier leaned back on his hands and the length of his erection pressed hotly against the engineer's stomach. The engineer shuddered as he was squeezed, then picked up a few small back and forth movements, not yet entering, but taking a moment to fully appreciate the sight of the soldier under him, his whole body shaking and the visible portion of his face still showing teeth as though he were in some intense stinging pain or out of breath. He soon felt the soldier's calloused hands on his backside, hungrily pressing him inward.

“Come on...” he demanded, his voice was barely at the volume of a whisper. The engineer couldn't tell if the soldier's eyes were open or not under his helmet, but his feral sneer was a fair indication of his mood. It all happened so fast that the thought of applying a lube of some sort was effectively ignored, but once the connection was made, the soldier arched with a pained groan, the force of it sending streaks of lighting through the engineer's body. The engineer gave a few more hard thrusts, no longer questioning himself for getting a chuckle out of the soldier's failure to feel the difference between pleasure and pain. Seeing this intensely strong body rendered helpless under him filled the engineer with a playful vigor that he didn't recognize outside of working on heavy artillery.

“...You couldn't fuck your way out of a wet paper bag, maggot...” the soldier grimaced. It wasn't exactly clear if he really meant that, but it stirred the engineer up even more non-the-less.

The engineer responded immediately, pulling up the soldier's knee with the one hand, pressing hard on the man's shoulder with the other and driving himself in as deeply as he could, causing the soldier to tighten and throw his head back, opening his mouth to cry out, but lacking the ability to make a sound louder than a gasp. But he quickly settled back, his breath leveling out and his erection begging for someplace to go. Obviously the engineer felt the need to take it in one hand and give it a deliberate stroking, causing the soldier's upper half to suddenly shoot up grab the engineer's arms at the shoulder. The engineer started to crumple under the intense pressure of the soldier's grip, but fought it as well as he could, letting the soldier moan and grind into him involuntarily. The engineer continued, watching the soldier's chest expand and contract, and that angry grimace transform into a snarling euphoria. The soldier was apparently too caught up in the sensation of everything to respond in even a remotely verbal manner. The engineer almost lost himself in this as well; the soldier was undeniably his now. This explosive, unsinkable killing machine was on his back, exposed and aching for him, pleading for anything that he could give.

The engineer let himself buck harder as he elevated, finally connecting with the soldier's subtle language of hunger and pain. He almost didn't need to move his hand as the soldier simply bucked into it on his own. But not a few seconds later, the engineer erupted into the soldier and the soldier went off hard, shooting violently onto the engineer as well as himself, and throwing the engineer's rhythm with his spastic climax. He wrenched his body forward with a yelp and pulled the engineer in as tightly as ever as though the whole experience scared the living shit out of him. The engineer struggled not to fall backward. His head refused to stop spinning, even as he started to notice the uncharacteristic silence from the soldier as his body started to relax. The man's helmet fell off and issued a loud clank behind him when it hit the concrete floor.

“S'matter, soldier? Ain't you got nothin' to say?” The engineer huffed, figuring that he would always respond to a challenge.

The soldier's head rested limply on the engineer's shoulder – the only sound to come forth would be a soft snore.

“Yeah, it was good for me too.” the engineer chuckled and tiredly lifted the dosing and now very heavy soldier off his shoulders and ungracefully let him flop back onto the worktable. With a weary sigh, he pulled away and stepped down from the toolbox. He pulled his briefs back up and when he went for this pants hanging around his knees, he realized that he probably shouldn't leave the soldier laying there exposed on his workbench like that. So once he had his shirt tucked back in, he patted the soldier's bare knee.

“Hey – rise and shine, soldier bo - AAH!! DANGIT!!” and once again, as soon as the soldier was alerted, he erupted from his prone position with a blood-curdling scream and ferociously attacked the first thing he saw. The engineer gave that startled shout just before he was knocked to the ground and rendered unable to breathe. With his vision fading, the engineer barely felt the soldier's fist hit him, but still reflexively grabbed his wretch and swiped it against the side of his attacker's head. The soldier swung away, though still kneeling over the engineer.

“DAMMIT, IT'S ME AGAIN, YOU SUNOVABITCH!!” the engineer shouted. “WHAT IN THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?!”

“I'M SORRY!! YOU STARTLED ME!!” the soldier shouted back, rubbing the welt developing on the side of his head. In the engineer's opinion, he wasn't entirely justified in being angry, but at least it was a straight answer this time.

“Oh – don't even worry 'bout it, partner.” The engineer let himself fall back, and reached down for his hankerchief now that he could feel stinging sweat leaking into his goggles and that his nose was probably broken.

The soldier stood up without any further argument and went for his pants – which had landed some feet away.

“Hey, partner...” the engineer got him to stop for a second.

“Yes, sir?”

“What say next time Ah tie you down?” the engineer grinned. “Ah figure imobilizin' your arms an' legs oughta decrease the overall likelihood of you causin' me any severe injury durin' cloitus.”

“Roger that, Engie!” The soldier saluted with a wide smile.

I can honestly say that never in my life have I so eagerly awaited updates on anything as this fic. I can die happy now, THANK YOU.

“God! Why do aye even bother tryin' ta douse this pain anymore?!” I´m a bad person, because i laughed about this.
Well, i laughed about pretty much almsot evrything about this.
I loved the Heavy parts with his gun. (If i wouldn´t know, that this is straight Helmetparty i would demand some Medic/Heavy.)
And the last part was with Solly was great.

(Sorry that i can´t give critic and so help for you, but belong to the whole mass of people who pats ya ass.)

“What say next time Ah tie you down?” the engineer grinned. “Ah figure imobilizin' your arms an' legs oughta decrease the overall likelihood of you causin' me any severe injury durin' cloitus.”
Continue...

Eagerly awaiting updateee

waiting...waiting...

Moooooooar!

You probably didn't mean for it to be funny, but I laughed at Engie standing on a toolbox to screw Soldier.
Leaving us with the possibility of future bondage? Ooooh, exciting.

Bump for an update. Please, OP! Say something!

In the middle of some projects. Porn comes soon.

--

The debriefing didn't go as poorly as it could have; the administrator spent most of the time yelling at everyone for slacking off on the killing end things. It was obvious however, that the old lady and her primarily female staff were well aware of the substance abuse and the strange new dimension developing in the team – almost as thought they had been anticipating it, and had made minor adjustments accordingly on a need-to-know basis. The usual formalities and the piercing, harpy-like scolding had not changed since day one however. Keeping the focus on tactical mistakes was just more productive as far as the administration was concerned.
First and foremost – the heavy was killed six times over the span of twenty minutes because he wasn't watching his medic. This cascaded into a massive influx of bum-rushing BLU infantry that he normally would have kept mowing down if he had stayed alive for more than a few seconds at a time. The medic agreed wholeheartedly. He understood that he was not well liked among his co-workers, but went on to explain that he was the only man standing between his team and certain, horrible disfigurement and repeated death.
The heavy had his head down on the table and was snoring loudly, contributing little to the discussion and obviously taking nothing from it. The medic roused him with a sharp prodding and a few harsh foreign words. The heavy only growled and went back to sleep.
The lanky Australian man at the end of the conference table made his usual comment that re-spawn made the medic's job obsolete, rounding off his supposition by referring to the aging German as 'Herr Mengele'.
The medic then started shouting at the sniper in and out of a high-pitched southern German, impressing upon him that not only was he not the Angel of Death, but he was not a Nazi at any point in his life and he was in fact, an Argentine citizen. Of course, anyone that had seen his personnel file would have known that he had only been living in Argentina for nine years, and there were no records of his life before the age of 36 other than his birthplace in Germany. But corrections aside, the sniper was hardly doing his job either. The sniper simply scoffed, retorting that he ran out of ammunition and had to make due running around lobbing off limbs and throwing piss-jars – which take time to refill, by the way.
The engineer seemed to be absent from the battle for the most part. He wasn't seen being killed by many, but his body turned up all over the map – more than anyone elses' in fact. He did manage to build a dispenser in the barn and that teleporter next to the enemy spawn point, but was killed immediately thereafter. Normally, the 'missing time' problem was often alleviated with open communication between men on the field, but since everyone was giving each other the cold shoulder for some bizarre reason (she coyly raised an eyebrow at the soldier on this note), the engineer ended up innocently running back out to the enemy spawn point four times, never getting around to re-stocking that dispenser or putting up the other end of the teleporter at base. In addition, he neglected to erect machines that would have been more useful to the rest of the team – like a sentry turret at the bottle neck leading to base instead of right next to the hanger door, or at least ONE medical dispenser near the control points instead of that one that he put up – again right next to the hanger door. She then proceeded to coldly interrogate the engineer, slowly rapping her long, talon-like fingers on the hard surface of the table, for the strategy behind arranging the machinery in said fashion.
The engineer respectfully explained that he had in fact, put a level three sentry at the bottle neck, but he had no idea what had happened to it – he assumed that it had been destroyed by the BLU spy. The administrator frustratedly rubbed her sinuses and told him that he never did build that sentry. Then she demanded to know why he thought that he had – he would have found it's remains in that case.
Well, to tell the honest truth, he had a rough night, and he apologized for not having his head in the game. His usual strategy was to just run around taking care of things as they came up, his own safety was never his highest priority. But this time around, since he had been killed so many times straight out of the spawn, he had no idea what was going on for the most part, and toward the end of the battle he thought that he was the only man left. He thought that his only option was keeping himself alive indefinitely and holding that closest control point until another RED came out of the re-spawn room. He didn't much like thinking about that – especially now that he knew the whole mess could have easily been avoided.
The soldier was no help at all – he stated bluntly that the engineer needed to stop acting like such a woman and learn how to fight. This whole team was really pissing him off in general with the drinking and the sass-mouth and the girlie giggles. Clearly the recent victories were causing the men to get cocky, let their guard down, get soft like a bunch of long-haired hippie faggots. This was no time for goofing off – if anything now was the time to really put the pressure on the enemy – to bring him to his knees and destroy him utterly – not let dames get in the way. The Demolition suggested that the soldier should actually read The Art of War before spouting orders to more able warriors like he knew his ass from a hole in the ground.
The soldier shot up from his chair and started shouting insults into the demolition's face – making the outlandishly ignorant presumption that he was a domestic terrorist working for come commie black nationalist organization.
The demolition furiously smashed his scrumpy bottle on the conference table and pointed the shattered remains at the soldier's neck, proclaiming that if he EVER lumped him in with black nationalists ever again, he would cut him down the middle and tan his lily white hide to make new upholstery for his Cobra.
Soldier promptly responded to this challenge; he sideswiped the demolition's head with his trench spade and spouted his hatred for him and for Scotland – calling it a seething breeding ground for transvestism.
The demolition came back at him without restraint; fists and broken glass flying, impressing that it's called a 'kilt', it's traditional, and that he might have known that the soldier had been inspecting his 'plumbing' at every opportunity like the cock-starved dandy that he was.
The meeting hardly paused for the ensuing carnage – it seemed that those two just couldn't be persuaded to share even the same building for more than a few hours at a time before they were literally at each others' throats. There was little the others could do – even if they cared enough to intervene.
The spy brought up the unusually high numbers in the BLU team. He attributed this to the nuclear power plant that they had poorly disguised as a grain refinery. This access to huge amounts of electricity definitely allowed them to spawn as many men as they wished. Although he also noted that the men on the other team seemed a little more 'dim' than usual. He was uncertain how to really describe what he meant until the scout announced that he ran into a BLU heavy that was screaming at the top of his lungs and spinning around like a man possessed, inexplicably tearing into his own team. It was an easy kill – but he almost felt bad about it – like he was putting the guy out of his misery.
The administrator rose from her chair at this report and ended the meeting with little explanation. Miss Pauling passed the men some file folders, hurriedly mentioning a BLU mining operation in the Pacific northwest that needed to be nuked before scuttling after the administrator with her cumbersome armful of paperwork.
The men were left assuming that they were being held responsible for their own transportation. Except for the soldier that is – he was busy trying to fight off the demolition, who had him on his back, apparently dropped trow and was now laughing and trying to slap him across the face with his flacid penis.

he was busy trying to fight off the demolition, who had him on his back, apparently dropped trow and was now laughing and trying to slap him across the face with his flacid penis
Serious question. WHY ARE YOU IN MY HEAD?! Where do you know i wanted to read such a thing with one member of the team doing it?
Where?

>>62

You are the fucking BEST, KG.

(Also, captcha "tochan". To Chan, or not To Chan?)

This fic is pretty much the only reason I keep coming back to the chan. It's pretty much redefined how I see a relationship between Soldier and Engineer. Other fics I may have some minor disagreements with, but this to me is just everything I could want and more. Some may say that I had wrote the book on Helmet Party, but you have perfected it beyond any capacity I could possess both through fiction and art. YOU DONE ME PROUD.

>>65 Who hid Kilo's medication?

--

Casualties were not to be typically expected from a board meeting under most, if not all circumstances – but in this company, the Medic came to expect the unexpected – like the extensive dental lacerations inflicted upon the demolition's penile and scrotal skin, for example.

The engineer carefully stole longer and longer glances away from the road in order to appreciate the soldier's clumsily draped body as he slept in the passenger seat, slightly turned away, his head drooping towards the window, and his otherwise white shirt still lightly stained with grease and barbeque sauce. He was completely limp – even when relaxed his solid frame and musculature was very apparent in it's various bulging forms gracefully rising and falling along his limbs in the sinking twilight.

The engineer sighed tiredly and checked his rear-view mirror for what felt like the hundredth time since he peeled out a parking lot a few hours ago.

If they hadn't been kicked out of that truck stop the drive would have been far less nerve-wracking. But that damn yankee son of a bitch had to go and get into it with the locals over the usual thing. If only they hadn't been seated next to some folks that just happened to offhandedly mention the war in Korea in their own private discussion. Somehow the topic flew from the conflict in Korea – to the soldier's opinion that manifest destiny was still in full affect (except for that 'red commie planet', Mars) – then finally to his supposition that if anyone didn't agree, they were an idiot and that they hated America. Lucky for ol' rocket boy the engineer knew when to quit, and so they managed to pay their bill and get the hell out of there with little more than a few bruises, well before the police could have shown up.

The soldier always got worked up over politics – especially those pertaining to war. He became furious when the engineer yanked him out before he could get his point across. The engineer demanded to know what his point was exactly, and the soldier replied that winning the quick and easy way was no real show of a man's metal. He should have known that a civilian 'wrench jockey' wouldn't understand. The engineer didn't think that was a fair assumption, and went on to asked that 'crazy son of a bitch' needed to defeat a handful of unarmed civilians. The soldier insisted that they could hardly be called civilians with those kinds of 'pinko philosophies'. Then the engineer finally told the soldier that

“America is a free country and folks are allowed to say whatever the hell they want here, ya dummy! You can't just go around giving people a hard time just because they ain't in absolute agreement with ya! That's what FASCISTS do! We have that second amendment cuz people can't get nothin done fer shit if they're fightin' with each other over petty differences all the damn time!”

The soldier said nothing for nearly a minute. The engineer immediately felt awful for defeating him so utterly, but when he turned his head to apologize, he found that the soldier had been asleep and put his attention back to driving in a huff.

Whether the soldier wanted to spend the rest of his life with the engineer or not, there probably wasn't any possibility of the soldier ever leading a civilian life that didn't involve him ending up in jail – or the psych ward at some veteran's hospital if he was lucky. But the engineer entertained the idea every now and again. Even toward the end of that most recent tangent, he nurtured a quiet pride in being on the soldier's short list of allies.

He yawned, stretched out his right arm and rested it along the rear dash. After a few minutes of psyching himself up, the engineer very carefully brushed the soldier's thick neck with the backs of his fingers. The tightly trimmed hairs leading up the soldier's neck enticed the engineer's fingers to unfold and stroke them softly.

“Get that bowie knife outta my leg...” The soldier snored and stirred. He sloppily shifted his weight toward the engineer in the cramped cab of that old pick-up, rolling to one side and letting his head come to rest on the engineer's shoulder, trapping his right arm. As he nestled into his new position, one of his hands made it's way through the side opening of the engineer's overalls. He drifted back into that dream with nearly his whole arm cradled in the front flap and wrapped around the smaller man's waist. He was just as heavy as ever, and the sudden envelopment in the warmth of his body was fairly intense; but it was the brush of the soldier's hand across the thin fabric covering the engineer's vulnerable stomach that caused him to shudder in surprise. That arm felt huge across his body – and the hand cupped around his hip issued a sensation of

The engineer carefully restrained himself with a nervous smile, trying not to rouse the soldier from this awkward position for fear of his own safety.

“...zzz...thanks, engie...” the soldier's voice was little more than a murmur this time, but it was said right into the engineer's ear. The tickling little fact that the soldier still didn't consider his relationship with the engineer as anything more than professional served to warm his heart in a way that only the soldier's brand of depraved innocence could.

>>66 is actually an update from me. Anyway, here's the second part ->

--

It was extremely difficult to operate a stick shift with one hand stuck under the soldier, but the engineer had operated far more complicated machinery than this in his career. He made his way to a motel by nightfall by using his left hand and his left leg to alternately steer and clutch. The old truck haltingly came to a stop in the motel parking lot, a few loud and frustrating grinds issuing from the transmission that strangely did not rouse the soldier. The instant the engine went quiet however, the soldier jerked himself up, his four-hour catnap apparently a case of road hypnosis.

“Are we there?” the soldier snorted and looked around drearily, his hands up and at the ready.

“Not by a long shot, partner.” the engineer could finally relax and limbered his stiff arm with a few pats on the soldier's back. “It's gettin' late, so Ah'm fixin' to turn in.” he pointed his thumb backward toward the motel.

“Oh.” the soldier sounded disapointed.

“Git along now. Let's get checked in, huh?” the engineer decided to proceed with pulling his keys from the ignition and turn for his door. “The sooner we get rested up, the sooner we can get on up to the rendezvous point.”

“Yes, sir!” the soldier popped open his door and jumped out. He marched around the length of the truck toward the rear gate as the engineer casually came around from the driver's side.

The engineer noticed the soldier keeping watch while he unlocked the gate and pulled it down. He should have gotten used to his 'armed escort' by now – he stood there in the standard way with his feet apart but firmly planted, his whole frame stiff with a straight back and arms folded neatly behind him, but clearly bristling with anticipation of anything from any direction at any time. The man didn't even own civilian clothing – just went without his coat. He didn't even like going without his helmet – the only reason he hadn't been wearing it this whole trip was because the engineer told him he liked seeing his face.

“I think you meant the FIRST amendment, earlier.” the soldier corrected.

“What now?” the engineer was busy untying various cords in order to free their luggage.

“The second amendment protects a civilian's right to keep and bear arms, sir. The first amendment is that which protects our freedom of speech.” the soldier explained.

“Ah knew that.” The engineer turned his head back as he pulled his suitcase from the truck, a little surprised by something so coherent coming from the soldier.

“Sir?” the soldier was watching some bushes rather closely.

“Honey, Ah'm from Texas. In Texas, the law doesn't protect your rights so much as your gun can.” The engineer explained coldly, releasing the soldier's ruck sack from the tangled mess. “You understand mah meaning?”

“Yes, sir.” the soldier quickly looked back out into the darkness.

If he really did understand, that very well could have been why the soldier had never been far from the engineer's side since the day they first met.

“So... uh... you wanna go halves on a room?” the soldier barely turned his head back to ask the question at a low volume.

“What for, soldier?” the engineer held out the soldier's ruck sack absently.

“DAMMIT MAN! You know EXACTLY what for!” the soldier barked and yanked his things from him.

“Well, pardon me mister.” the engineer chuckled. He was inclined to think that the soldier just wanted to be with him, share a bed and so forth. But it was probably more likely that he didn't want the engineer out of his sight. Either way, it was best to keep it ambiguous out here in the open. “Sure, Ah'll go halves with ya.”

continue... :>

Haha, these are excellent; both parts made me laugh. Thanks a lot for updating! Can't wait 'till the next one.

Oh ho. I enjoyed this second half quite a bit. Their interaction is so endearing. I can't wait for whatever comes next! Thanks for updating.

CAPCHA - FUC ART

THAT IS ALL

--

The teenaged clerk looked up from her magazine as two men walked in. The taller one looked like an army commando with a broom up his ass and his accomplice looked to be the shortest cowboy she had ever seen. He seemed nice though.

“Yer sign out there says you've got a vacancy?” the cowboy smiled.

“Yeah – we've got two rooms, but they're not next to each other. Do you mind?” she leaned over the counter and smiled back, still chomping her chewing gum.

“Oh, no - we just need the one.” the cowboy explained.

“Are you sure? I mean, where are the Indian and the Leather Guy going to sleep?”

“WHAT? WHERE?!” The army guy spun around and pulled a gun.

“WOA! Easy there, partner!” the cowboy immediately pushed the barrel of the army guy's handgun to the floor. After a brief struggle and some barely audible swearing between them, the army guy shoved the cowboy off and put the gun away in a miff.

“What's that look for, mister?!” the cowboy scolded. “Don't make me an asshole for trustin' you with that damn thing!” he waved a finger at the other man before turning back to the reception desk.

“You'd have to pry this gun from my cold, dead fingers, you pussy!” the army guy glowered at the cowboy, who had already moved on - gone for his wallet and pulled out some bills for the clerk.

“Ah'm real sorry about that, ma'am. Don't pay him no mind – he's just a bit touched in the head.”

“Why do you keep telling people that?!” the army guy snapped.

“So what were you meanin' by that, anyways?” the cowboy inquired, still ignoring the army guy. “It's just the two of us, here, and Ah don't recall mentionin' that we were waitin' fer anybody.”

The clerk let out a loud sigh of dejection, her cutting topical observations of their looking like part of the village people was totally lost upon these meat heads. “Nevermind, here's your key.”

--

Once he wrangled the soldier into the room, the engineer shut the door behind him and deflated immediately in the relative safety, locking the door with a sound of tired relief. It was the same manner he often had in locking the door of his workshop after a battle – even down to pulling a rag from his back pocket and mopping the sweat from his head.
He saw that the soldier was still pissed in the way that he roughly threw his ruck sack on the bed and marched for the bathroom with a few angry, grumbled syllables.

“Wait a second now, partner!” the engineer went after him.

“I AM NOT YOUR PARTNER!” the soldier shouted and slammed the bathroom door behind him. “CONSIDER MY SERVICES TERMINATED!!”

The engineer felt like he had just been shot through the chest; he could not move for what seemed like an eternity. It took everything he had to fight back.

“WHAT THE HELL FOR?!” he shouted, his anger the only thing distracting him from the pain. He ran up to the bathroom door and tried the knob. It turned fine, but something was blocking the door from opening. “Come on now – open the door!”

“ACCESS DENIED!!” the soldier shouted from inside.

“Ah juss want a word with ya, soldier! Let me in!” the engineer tried to sound calm, but he was now pushing on that door with his whole weight.

There was no response this time, but the door still wouldn't budge. The engineer leaned on the door for a long moment, catching his breath. He still didn't hear anything from inside – but he knew that the soldier was still in there – blocking the door with this body. Being separated from him by a mere inch and a half of wood filled the engineer with a kind desperation that he hadn't felt in years, and he relieved it only slightly by pounding the door with his fist.

“DAGNABBIT, AH'M SORRY!” he shouted. “YOU HEAR ME?! Ah'm sorry!” he stopped pounding in hopes of hearing something – anything. But nothing – not even movement. That's when the tears started. “Ah said Ah'm sorry...” This was what he had been dreading since the beginning and it was far worse than he could have ever imagined. He wracked his brain trying to figure out how he could have fucked this up so badly – he knew that he was upsetting the soldier by trying to take his gun away – and even more so by calling him crazy. But he was so concerned with protecting himself that he didn't give it a second thought. He felt like shooting himself right then and there, but a small part of him knew that the soldier needed him now more than ever. The man was hurt so badly that hiding was suddenly a preferred tactic to violence. He had never seen the soldier run and hide before.

The engineer pulled that pack of Marlboros from his pocket, opened it and put one to his lips. There was no sense in wearing himself ragged trying to out muscle the soldier when he could just wait for him to calm down. With a flick of his zippo, he lit his cigarette and took a long swig off of it.

“Ah reckon Ah should get a few things off mah chest, Soldier. Ah just wanna say that you're probably the best friend Ah ever had in this world. Ah really enjoyed workin with you for as long as Ah did.” he blew a long plume of smoke from his mouth as he spoke to the door, still leaning on it heavily. “Ah mean the pyro an me make a good team, but Ah always got more satisfaction from keepin you armed – an' watchin you fight...” he tried to smile, thinking of that.

“From when Ah first met you, Ah can't really say why, but Ah always had a need for ya somethin' fierce …” he fought his voice cracking. “Ah'm glad you let me in so many times, mister. It was an honor each and every time.” he shook his head to fight the tears. “Hell, Ah gotta tell ya that Ah never felt more like a man than when those times Ah was makin love to you.” he couldn't help but find a little humor in those words coming from his own mouth. He took another puff off the cigarette, beginning to regret letting so much pour out. “Ah just...” he struggled to just let it out. “Ah ain't had a home to go back to in years, soldier, and bein' with you kinda made me feel like Ah did.” The tobacco was helping a little, but only enough to keep him talking. In a small way, with the pain already out of the way, he felt more free to speak his mind than at any other time.

“Ah juss wished Ah coulda done the same for you.” He sniffled and took another puff and watched the white smoke billow up around him again. “Ah'm sorry Ah called you crazy like it was a bad thing, cuz it ain't, soldier. It just ain't. Bein' crazy is what makes you such a good soldier, you hear? Ah don't know of a man alive what would dive head first into a fight and laugh in the face of his own death the way you do, soldier. Everything you do, you give a hundred percent, and you keep givin' it like it's nothin' at all. To be perfectly honest, Ah wish Ah was as crazy as you.” he felt like his lungs had been completely vacuumed flat, and yet he could not breath in without feeling like a loud sob would come from it. He took a moment to wipe off his eyes with his sleeve.

“Dagnabbit, you got me leakin' like a damn faucet, here...you win soldier, Ah'll give you yer space if, that's what you want...” the engineer pulled off the door, trying to think how he could make the rest of the road trip less awkward.

The door opened without warning and the engineer spun around at the sound. He saw the soldier standing there with the door half open, his eyes glaring at him as angrily as they often did, but his face was sopped with tears. The two men stood there looking at each other dumbly for a long moment. The engineer felt like he was being thoroughly scanned, and hoped that the soldier would accept what he saw as a harmless non-enemy at least. He wanted to dry the soldier's face, hold him in his arms but was too scared to move.

Before he knew it, the engineer was being pressed into the soldier's chest harder than he even thought possible. He frantically hugged the soldier back with everything he could muster. There was no hope of keeping the soldier locked to him forever, but he felt like he had to try anyway. The soldier was drenched with sweat and his heart was racing hard like he might have been scared half to death.

“You are pathetic!” the soldier was obviously trying to keep up that tough front, but the crying was still in his throat. “You are the saddest, quivering bowl of fruit I have ever seen! If you know what's good for you, you will not leave my sight. Do you understand that?” he hugged tighter for emphasis.

The engineer couldn't breathe, but did his best not to panic. He couldn't get the 'yes sir' out of his mouth, so he just nodded. The soldier at least noticed the engineer's struggle and loosened his grip enough for a little air to get back into him.

“You couldn't pry me off with the jaws o' life, partner. You can bet money on that.” the engineer smiled in his immense relief, thanking each and every one of those lucky stars and letting himself melt into the soldier's chest. “Just don't shut me out like that ever again, you got that? Ah don't think my ticker can handle it.”

“Yeah, sure...” the soldier grumbled and rested his chin on the engineer's head. His arms relaxed and his hands made their way around the engineer's back. One moved up and palmed the engineer's neck, and the other ended up tucked inside the back of his over-alls, spreading open from his lower back and just barely reaching his backside. The strength in those hands felt like the heat off of a forge, and the rush of it caused the usual tightness in his underwear.

“Ah was thinkin' of lettin' you in this time.” the engineer put the cigarette out against the wall and slipped his hands under the soldier's shirt, spreading his fingers across that rock hard back. “Ah figure that's only fair, right?”

“Do what now?” the soldier wasn't sure how to react to the engineer dropping down and unbuckling his belt. “Wait a minute, what are you..?”He watched dumbly as the engineer fumbled around down there until the Texan's calloused fingers dove into his underwear and started stroking him. “OH! I get it now...carry on...” he inched his feet apart and let the engineer pull out his half-erection and start licking the tip.

The next series of noises he heard coming out of the soldier was like sweet nectar. The engineer enthusiastically took the head into his mouth and rolled his tongue around the ridge. The soldier's hands spread across the engineer's shoulders and his fingers searched for the skin just under his button up shirt through the neck. As one hand cupped around the back of his head, the engineer took in nearly the whole length of the soldier's suddenly very rigid manhood and bobbed back and forth a few times. It may have been too much at once for the soldier – he dug his nails into the engineer's skin and started bucking his pelvis. The engineer yanked away to save himself from choking.

“Why'd you stop?!” the soldier demanded as the engineer stood back up.

“You carry a big gun, soldier boy.” the engineer laughed and started undressing. “Bit off a might more than Ah could chew there, is all. So Ah'm gonna turn around and you're gonna fuck me.” he dropped trow and turned around.

“Yes, SIR!” the soldier positioned himself between the engineer's legs as he backed into him and took a vice grip on his hips.

“Take it easy, partner, this is mah...OW!” the engineer was interrupted mid sentence by the soldier ramming into him. The pain was indescribable, but he couldn't escape if he wanted to. “Dagnabbit! Ah said, TAKE IT EASY, YA JACKASS! This is mah first time playin' catcher, you understand?!” he half-yelled, half-cried.

“Shhhhit....” The soldier leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the engineer's torso, his body shuddered with his efforts to keep his hips still. But it was plenty calm enough for the engineer to relax and accommodate him. The two of them braced in silence as the soldier slipped deeper into the engineer. Feeling another man heave and pulse through his whole being was a sensation that the engineer never expected to enjoy this much. It was strangely comforting in a way, feeling all that heat from the soldier's body draped over him and the power in his arms holding him in place. He almost felt like he could trust him completely.

“That's the way, partner, juss start out slow an' AH! don't let me..AHhh.. don't let me fall...” the soldier did not know restraint, but he could follow orders. He held the engineer close and tried a few deliberate thrusts. The engineer leaned into him, reaching one arm up and taking a loose handle on the soldier's neck, taking each hit like a badge of honor. It was only fair. He reached down and clasped his other hand around his own arousal and started stroking it, causing all that stinging pain to fade into heated pleasure.

The soldier growled impatiently and started thrusting harder and faster, cleaving into the engineer roughly and clearly fighting the urge to chomp down on his neck. Sweat dripped from his chin and his breath escaped him in great steaming intervals in the engineer's ear. The engineer grunted painfully, but urgently squeezed back, the soldier's pitiful moans spurring him into a strange feeling of need for him. He found himself wanting more of the man inside of him, like it completed him somehow. It was almost disturbing how right it felt to be filled with the soldier's fury. It was so right that he collapsed from his collected demeanor and erupted with a yelp.

“You wuss...” the soldier grinned viciously, no where near finished with him.

“Pardon me...” the engineer panted and shook his head. “Do what you gotta do, sol-- AAAHH!!” he quickly came to regret saying that when the soldier bit him. But it was probably for the best – the soldier's final thrusts were comparable to industrial machinery, and staying joined became a real challenge. Once it was over however, the soldier suddenly became very heavy and the engineer braced to keep him up as he fell both out of him and out of conciousness.

“Dagnabbit, soldier!” the smaller man huffed and shuffled toward the bed with his best friend still draped over his back. Once close enough, he let the soldier slide off of him and flop onto the mattress like a 250lb sack of potatoes.

The engineer took a moment after pulling up his pants and looked the sleeping soldier over. He was so peaceful compared to what he was a moment ago - an insane angel with the engineer's blood still coating his lips. He smirked with the satisfaction in knowing that he endured that man, then still had the muscle left to carry him a few feet. He knew better than to try and wake him up, so this time he just put a pillow under the soldier's head and stiffly limped off toward the shower.

“Night, babe.”

Wow, I simply love this fic. You are really talented in writing!

Dagnabbit. Now I've got the urge to do the YMCA dance.

Eh well. Great chapter. I really do love this fic. Engie's such a goddang sweetheart- I just love him!

This fiction. I don´t know what exactly it is. Maybe that you portray the soft but still oh so manly sides of Soldier and Engie so wonderfull. Seriously, you make it hot, but believable. I mean there isn´t all this wussy and ultimate perfect lovemaking here. It has his edges and is hilarious to the same time. The last part made me die a bit in the inside. In a good way.

tl;dr: I hope you got the point i want to say here. Or i just quote Engie: Keep going!

>>71

I'll write a better comment when I'm more coherent. I'll also post a completed image when I'm not sobbing in the dark listening to Snow Patrol's Make This Go On Forever: http://i56.tinypic.com/zjax09.png

>>71
>>75
This make me fell bad for made red engi cheat red solly with blu solly...

So any plans for afanart of Engie sucking off Soldier? That'd be awesome.

Oh, and Nyx wants it too:
02:13:43 < Crank> Oh wow, KGB does it again
02:13:51 < Crank> Engie sucking off Solly, this is what I was waiting for
02:14:01 * Crank stops being a fag
02:14:03 <~Nyx> ... LINK
02:14:12 < Crank> oh it's just in her fic
02:14:15 <~Nyx> oh
02:14:15 <~Nyx> damnit
02:14:18 <~Nyx> I WANT PICTURES

But in all seriousness, this fic is great. Keep up the good work!

I know I always complimented you on your Soldier writing, but may I say that the more you go on with this the more your Engineer's voice is improving as well. There were quite a few little bits in the course of this particular installment that gave me chills, particularly in Engie's dialogue. Might just be because he's got more of the chapter to himself, but his diction is spot-on here.

Enough wordfaggery from me. Please keep going. Preferably forever. :3c

You know what's interesting? Even though your story has been splitting away from my view and take on the characters in the last parts and I found myself getting tired of gratituous Solly bottoming, I still keep coming back to it. I might bat an eye or two but I come back.

And that's because it's so wellwritten, heartwrenching and amusing. I don't give a shit anymore if my headcanon and yours fit each other - This is just awesome in its very own ways. I must admit that I felt like the drama was tacked on in the part with Engie playing the guitar in front of Pyro, Demo and Heavy but this time around, it works PERFECTLY. I can understand every bit that's been said and done and I feel myself having sympathy for both sides. Oh man, that scenes was powerful.

Oh man, KGB, keep doing what you do. PLEASE.

AW SNAP it seems to be time for ILLUSTRATED fun time.

>>80

... AWESOME

Oh man, KGB, keep doing what you do. PLEASE. +1

I'm really annoyed about not having anything else to say other than "OHMAGAWD KGB YOU'RE AWESOME KEEP GOING." Really.

One day I'll repay you all this awesomeness you've bestowed upon us.

WOW, just...wow.

I discovered this bit of fanfiction here through your DA account, oh, maybe two and a half hours ago. I then proceeded to sit myself down and read the whole gosh darn thing, and man, I'm left utterly flabbergasted.
Your take on both Soldier and Engie's personalities is just a plain spot-on, excellent interpretation, and somehow you manage to make this both unbearably cute and yet gratuitously manly at the same time. I'll never understand /how/, but you do.
Man, I don't even think this comment box has enough room for everything I want to say here, so let me just sum it up:

Keep doin' what you do, because it's amazing.

Wow I Really love this. It has soo much emotion. Keep Posting more!

“What say next time Ah tie you down?” the engineer grinned. “Ah >figure imobilizin' your arms an' legs oughta decrease the >overall likelihood of you causin' me any severe injury durin' >cloitus.”
Won't lie. Still hoping and holding out for this.

Please don't let this die. I need more!

I, as a rule, don't read porn. I just don't. I never do.

Until now.

I just read this thing from top to bottom, and was completely engrossed. This was real and hilarious and painful and absolutely beautiful. If I wouldn't look ridiculous I'd give an honest to goodness standing ovation.

I can't wait to see more.

Old dinosaur of a computer died finally. All data lost to eternity. Staring over from scratch with new computer which can support software made AFTER 1999, so send some steam invites my way (KGBigelow) if you feel like putting up with somebody who's never played anything since metal gear solid 3 on the playstation.
In the meantime - picking up where I left off here, might take some time - but's gonna happen in one way or another, dammit.

Baby, don't give up. This fic is a goldmine right here. Because of you I freakin love Engi and Solly action. I'll draw whatever you wish honey:)

Please provide more!

>>88
Was it a laptop or a desktop? Are you sure it was the hard drive that died and maybe not the motherboard/processor?

You could possibly try taking the hard drive out of the old PC and installing it into your new pc as a slave driver. Hopefully SATA and not IDE... else you'd might have to purchase a combination cord depending on how "new" this new computer is for that to work. Worth a shot.

I concur with gamergirl.

>>90
Given that KGB talked about software made after 1999 (even if it's just a figure of speech), it's safe to say she has an IDE hard drive, as they didn't really get common until like 2005.

Anyway, yeah, if the hard drive isn't dead, you could check the internets (places like DealExtreme) for an adapter to let you hook up your HDD so you can grab your old stuff.

All the (public) TF2 stuff should be fukken saved by your fans anyway, right? RIGHT?

On his way to the compact shower the engineer would notice the soldier's handgun on the laminate sink counter. The manner in which it was happenstantially lying on it's side made it appear as though it wear pointing accusingly at him as he closed the door behind him.

The engineer pondered why such a treasured possession would have been left out in the cold, then saw himself in the mirror. With his hanging coveralls held up by his one hand and his flannel shirt ruffled, bloody and half-unbuttoned, he looked as though he had just been in a fight. And that bite made the first one look like a nibble. That damn soldier.

Once refreshed, the engineer dried off, wrapped the towel around his waist, took his keys from his pants on the floor and walked past the soldier. He was still fully clothed, and still awkwardly stretched diagonally across the mattress, snoring like a sawmill. The engineer cautiously made his way out the door and towards the first aid kit that he had innocently left in the tuck, fairly certain that no one would be out at this hour, but keeping a good peripheral just in case.

Once he got to the driver side door open, he took the kit from under the seat and upon looking back up he saw that young clerk standing outside in her nightie, huddled close to a corner just outside the main office. She discretely lit a cigarette and immediately tried to dissipate the smoke upon her first puff by frantically waving her hand. She couldn't have been older than fifteen, so the engineer made the assumption that she was doing something that she shouldn't have been. He figured that he should just leave her to it, and tiptoed back to his door. Then he realized that although he remembered his truck key, he left his room key inside and was now locked out.

The half-naked engineer dropped his forehead against the door and let out a tired sigh.

He knocked on the door and waited. A moment later he would be greeted with the sound of a rifle being cocked. It was well known to him that the soldier always answered the door in this manner.

“STEP AWAY FROM THE DOOR!” the soldier shouted.

“It's just me, partner.” the engineer tried to keep his voice down, but decided to step away from the door anyway just in case. “Ah went to get the first aid outta the truck and Ah locked myself ou-”

“What's the password?”

“Password?! Now wait just a god-damned minute, mister! You never told me there was a password!”

There was a pause.

“Point taken.” the door swung open and the engineer was greeted by the helmeted soldier and the twin barrels of a rifle. The soldier acknowledged the engineer with a nod and stepped out, cautiously checking the right and left and rear for unseen danger.

“Hands where I can see them, maggot!” He caught that girl clerk in his sights and in an instant she threw her hands up, dropping her cigarette onto the ground.

“Dagnabbit! This ain't a war-zone, and that ain't no way to treat a lady, soldier!” The engineer smacked the soldier on the back of the head.

“Precautions, private! When you're this far away from the green zone, you can never be too careful!”

“Stand down, dammit!!” the engineer smacked the soldier on the back of the head.

“My apologies, ma'am!” the soldier dropped the business end of his weapon and waved upon the all clear. “Carry on!”

“Screw you!” The girl relaxed and shakingly picked her cigarette back up.

“Just what the hell do you think you are doing out here, private cowboy?! You are unnarmed and uncovered! You were practically ASKING for this injury!” The soldier turned his attention back to the engineer and pointed at that bite on his shoulder.

“But.... You did this.” the engineer still found humor in this somehow.

“...” the soldier was about to yell something else, but stumbled. “So I did.” He then pivoted to the side, stiffly presented arms, and made way for the engineer.

The engineer chuckled and went inside, giving the soldier a hearty pat on the arm. It was almost a sweet return to the old days of emotionally distant professional normalcy after the complete spontanious interpersonal meltdown and the whirlwind of gay sex.

“Mind if Ah ask a personal question, soldier?” Something occurred to the engineer, and what better time to ask than halfway down the road.

The soldier acknowledged him with an affirmative grunt as he turned back into the room and closed the door behind him, then started the task of making sure the door was locked and taking one last look through the blinds.

“You got a special lady waitin' for ya somewhere?”

The soldier instantly turned around and an awkward stare-down was initiated.

“Ah don't mean nothin' by it! Ah'm just askin' you straight up, partner.” the engineer shrugged to hide his fear.

“No sir.” the soldier broke away and leaned the rifle against the wall near the bed while he went about the business of removing his outer clothing for the night. Seemed strange that there wasn't some kind of self-righteous rant to justify that statement. But he didn't exactly sound sad either. The engineer sat down on the edge of the bed, still watching the soldier and struggling to interpret his behavior.

“Well, why not? You ain't such a bad lookin' buck...” The engineer absently opened the med-kit on his lap and felt around inside, all the while watching the soldier's torso bend and flex as first that shirt was peeled away, then his belt was addressed. He was confronted again with how much more 'rounded off' his own physique was in comparison to the soldier's.

“The field of battle is no place for a lady, private cowboy.” the soldier stated flatly and folded his trousers on the bed. “Even you should know that.”

“Yeah, I reckon it ain't.” the engineer went with that, finally looking down and finding some alcohol swabs. “So uh... Ah guess what Ah meant was, … have you ever? Ah mean – before you went to war?”

“Of course! Many women have been graced with my presence, private cowboy! They just can't resist a man of my strength and character!” The soldier proudly straightened and orated. “But LADY LIBERTY is my one true love, son. For her safety, I will forsake all others without hesitation!”

The stinging alcohol sanitizing that open wound stung like eight bitches on a bitch boat, but the engineer was more interested in getting a straight answer from that damn soldier.

“Have you ever been intimate with a woman, mister?” the engineer flatly addressed the subject.

“oh...” the soldier paused. “Sure, I have! One time I even got her bra off!”

The very thought of this man fumbling around with a woman's bra was more tickling than the telling evidence that he may have been a virgin.

“What's so funny, private?!” the soldier stood angrily with his feet apart and his hands on his hips.

“Don't tell me that you ain't never gone further than that!” the engineer started laughing. He had no idea how to cross examine the soldier without getting a half-truth on the facts of the matter. He wasn't even sure if he should feel bad for the soldier, or for any of the women who were 'graced' with the soldier's 'presence' whatever that meant.

“W-Have you?!” The soldier demanded.

The engineer's sides were aching, but he managed to control himself for the sake of being polite.

“Yeah – once er twice.” the engineer recalled those instances as though he were looking at someone else's life. “Prolly no where near the number of conquests that a ten-pointer like you woulda had...” He snorted, still struggling to stifle the laughter. Remembering his first time, and then the social aftermath at Tiny Bee High School the next day helped to slow the giggles substantially. “S'funny the kind of things people expect you to know when you're fresh outta the gate. Shoot...” It was much easier to look back on that now that he had a solid ten or more degrees under his belt than any of his classmates, but it wasn't exactly fun either.

“Women are a peculiar breed, private cowboy!” the soldier climbed under the covers as the engineer finished covering his shoulder with gauze. He took a moment to settle in, lying on his back and locking his hands under the pillow “They don't use logic like you and me. They'll do anything to get attention, and then once you give it to them, they act like they never wanted it in the first place! THAT'S what your problem is! You haven't got the PERSERVERANCE to REALLY get anywhere with women! The truth is that women don't know what they want! YOU have to be FIRM and TELL them what they want! That's your DUTY as a man! But NOW thanks to those PANSIES in Washington, women are getting the idea that they have some kind of CHOICE in the matter and that they're somehow smart enough to know better than a man! Can you believe that?! If GOD wanted women to have a choice in ANYTHING, he would have made them properly in the first place!”

The engineer just sat and stared at the soldier for a moment.

“Who needs women anyways?” the engineer said finally. He felt more free to play along in this instance than at any other.

“Yeah! All they're good for is making more men!”

--

The engineer would wake up the next morning at six thirty when the soldier shoved him out of bed and initiated his usual strict morning ritual by making sure that the engineer was fully awake;

“RISE AND SHINE, MAGGOT!!” he shouted and started his morning warm-up streches. “NEVER FACE THE DAY LYING DOWN!!”

“Yeah! All they're good for is making more men!”
I love you soldier 8|

Simply Beautiful. Absolutely loving the Soldier/Engie stuff. Thank you for gracing us with an update!

"...eight bitches on a bitch boat..."

Im going to remember this for the next time I complain about pain.
Also, I love this fic so much, you're writing is amazing! I eagerly await any more updates!

bamp

“But LADY LIBERTY is my one true love, son."
I began to choke. Demanding $20 in compensation.

I'm awestruck by your effortless ability to portray Engineer and Soldier, not only as distinctive, dynamic characters, but as real fucking human beings. That's something I tend to struggle with. I feel like, with my writing, I'm always looking at characters, and not into a window of another person's life. Fucking spectacular.

I'm also glad this isn't some Twilight-esque type relationship where Solly isn't just suddenly "tamed" by Engie - they just kind of learn how to interpret each other and communicate.

Even more than that, I'm glad that Engie isn't gratuitously kind and patient. He's probably my favorite character in the game (us Suthernerz gotta stick tuhgetha, pardner), and he DOES generally seem like the nicest one out of the guys, but he's still a mercenary, and he's got his berserk-button moments as well. Not to mention that certain delicious devious, and sometime callous side when it comes to handling someone as emotionally fragile\unstable as Soldier tends to be.

Friggin' love this. Consider a lot of the aspects in your story filed in my headcanon.

\end rant

http://tf2chan.net/fanart/src/130625054185.jpg
the planetoids are coming together

If you never update again I will be sad