Holocene (Heavy x Medic) So this is a continuation of the ficlet I randomly posted in fanfic a while ago. I figure I’ll post the beginning again, now that I have a name, a bit more direction, and now that I've decided to switch over to afanfic after planning some more things out. This is a first attempt at fanfiction, so excuse any potentially shoddy writing - I will not claim writing fiction as my strength. I don’t really have a summary, as things are still getting going, but it’s Heavy x Medic centric, and so far focuses a lot on everyday relationship dynamics, the small stuff that isn’t always appreciated or mentioned. *â€Holocene†is the current epoch, one that encompasses more (relatively) recent history and the present day. It’s the sort of random factoid that seems almost irrelevant in its constancy, but to enter another epoch would suggest some major, likely catastrophic geologic shifts. Also, “Holocene†is the name of a Bon Iver song, and I’ve been listening to quite a bit of their music recently. --- He hated the way his footsteps loudly echoed down the long concrete hallway. Despite his best attempts to be quiet, these late-night sojourns continued to be a liability. The Heavy sighed – he knew he would never be good with this secrecy, with maintaining this prolonged discretion. The giant Russian man had long ago accepted that wherever he went, he would be noticed. Still, if another member of the team was aware of all these afterhours visits to the infirmary… He tried to step as lightly as possible, doing his best to gently turn the door handle that was dwarfed in his rugged hand. --- Post-battle examinations done, administrative paperwork done, and finally, notes on the performance of the experimental equipment, DONE. The older German man smiled as he signed off on the last of his papers with a flourish. His work continued on even off the battlefield, consuming his attention long into the night. But tonight he’d made sure to finish in good time. Leaning back in his chair, the Medic removed his spectacles and idly polished them with the bottom of his shirt. It was untucked now, with his waistcoat unbuttoned and his tie hanging loose. At these late hours, formality no longer took precedence over comfort and ease. Placing his glasses back on his nose, the Medic rubbed his temples and began to stretch. Old joints cracked, his weary body sounding pops and clicks akin to an old record player trying to find purchase in a record’s long-worn grooves. “When did I ever get to be so old?†he mused. His body certainly felt the strain of his many years, but his mind still felt fresh. There was no loss in clarity, no end to the constant innovations and experiments, no dulling of emotional intensity… The Medic started out of his thoughts as he heard footsteps reverberating in the barren hallway outside of his office and medical bay. Happily anticipating his guest he stood as quickly as he could and rushed to the door just as a large figure entered. “So Doktor still heard me?†The Heavy did his best to close the door quietly behind him before he moved further inside. “I try to be quiet, but…†A vague gesture indicating his massive form was all the explanation needed. “No worries at all mein freund. The sleeping quarters are on the other side of the base, and even if we were disturbed †the Medic paused, a devious glint entering his eyes, “I’m sure I could find some way to guarantee the unfortunate man’s silence.†A broad smile spread across the Heavy’s face. The Medic grinned back at his large companion, unable to resist the other man’s joyful enthusiasm. “Thank you Doktor.†The Medic was sure by now that he would never be able to fully pin down all of the contradictions that coexisted within the Heavy. Rage, brutality, sheer power and aggression could change in a second to compassion, affability, and an ever-protective kindness. This was a man who could kill you with his bare hands, but who was not afraid to express a child-like appreciation for sandwiches born from long deprivation in the Siberian gulags. Even the man’s body reflected this duality. Hard, strong muscles formed from years of work stood in contrast to a soft, slightly sagging belly that expressed no fear of indulgence. Quite frankly, the Medic found him irresistible. “Well, come on then,†said the Medic, wrapping his arm around the Heavy’s waist and giving an appreciative squeeze. “We must make the best use of the time we have, yes?†“Дa!†laughed the Heavy as he put his arm around the Medic’s shoulders. They stood for a moment in this half embrace, simply savoring each other’s company and the warmth of another body against their own. Then, laughing heartily and now doing nothing to hide his loud nature, the Heavy scooped up a similarly laughing Medic into his large arms and carried him into the bedroom. -------- Medic arched his back in pleasure, biting his bottom lip and breathing in gasps as Heavy’s large hands and insistent mouth attended to his every desire. The lovers had engaged each other with ferocity, but the tempo was winding down, the participants almost satiated. Mind cloudy, heat gathering, the Medic finally achieved sweet release. Muscles relaxed, limbs slackened, breaths becoming deep and slow. The heat of another body against his own. A sigh. Eyelids fluttered as sleep sidled in. Warm hands, safety in their strength. A whispered endearment. “Oh mein Kuschelbär…†--- The growing sunlight lazily filtered through the old white blinds, strips of brilliance illuminating the floating dust motes. Heavy stirred, opening his eyes slowly and proceeding to blink away the vestiges of sleep. The room was quiet, the air peaceful – it was still early enough for the small, barren room to retain a reassuring morning stillness. Groaning slightly, the Heavy shifted his weight, snuggling tighter against Medic’s back. Heavy knew he would have to rise and sneak back to his own room before heading to the showers, but for now he had no desire to disturb the man laying in front of him. For now he would just enjoy the moment, ignoring the reality of the daily rigors he had yet to face. Holding Medic close, Heavy couldn’t help but feel a kind of satisfied protectiveness. This was his Medic, resting against him absolutely safe, warm, and relaxed. Together they were unbeatable. Together they achieved a sort of whole, a great unity, whether it was in battle or behind closed doors. Heavy planted kisses on the bare neck before him and moved his hand to Medic’s chest, doubly feeling the strong heartbeat as his lips brushed up to pulsing, concealed veins and his large palm grazed the soft fluff of the other man’s graying chest hair. Feeling his lover’s touch, Medic nestled in closer, a delicate, affectionate movement akin to a sparrow settling into its nest. He knew it was time to wake up; his eyelids were unable to mask the growing light. But they could still enjoy the moment a little longer. Every additional minute in bed was like a piece of Heaven, but unfortunately, it couldn’t last. Eventually both men had to stir – Medic stood up first, attempting to stretch cracking joints as Heavy moved to the edge of the bed with his legs hanging over to rest on the floor. The two men were close enough that the silence was still intimate; there was no awkwardness as they started with their daily routines. The small bed sagged under the demands of his size, but Heavy sat for several moments, blearily rubbing his forehead as he collected his thoughts. “There’s another battle scheduled for today,†he mused, going over a mental checklist of the maintenance he had performed on Sascha the previous evening. The fighting had been particularly brutal over the last few days, and it had certainly been taking a toll on his stamina and his beloved gun. He knew he needed to prepare himself for what was sure to be a trying day.
I like it. Moar.
I remember this fic! Glad to hear you're continuing it. I'll just wait here.
This is absolutely heart-warming.
Nice.
Can't wait to see where you are going with this; though, so far, I am loving it. Please do go on!
You have my full attention.
Aww, this is such a nice change from the usual stuff you see on here. While I definitly like all the dark, bloody fics too, this is just heartwarming. As has been said already, but it's the most fitting word for it. Please continue! (:
It's not much, but have a little update. I'm pretty busy with school, so I'll either add more in drips and drabbles or wait longer to post a longer update. Crit is welcome - fiction is not comfortable territory for me and I usually write this in the wee hours of the morning, so any suggestions are welcome. I present some Medic musings for your pleasure. --- Shrugging on his shirt, Medic glanced over to Heavy still sitting on the bed. The larger man was looking pensive, holding his head in his broad hand as he rested a little while longer. Looking at his lover, the German man couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in that large brain. The Heavy was slow, but in a methodical, contemplative sort of way that was most definitely not indicative of a stunted intellect. Medic had to admit that at first even he had assumed the Heavy was unrefined and lacking in intelligence. It had only been chance that had proved him so very wrong. After one of their earliest battles, back when they were stationed in the Badlands, Medic had been left with a wide gash on his arm, courtesy of a shovel and a desperately charging enemy Soldier. The doctor had planned to tend to his wound after looking after the rest of his team, but the Heavy had avoided inspection until the Medic dealt with his own injuries. “Nyet. Doktor must look after Doktor first.†The Heavy had stood resolutely at the infirmary door, one hand holding and staunching the blood flow from a bullet wound in his shoulder while using the other to swipe away the Medigun and its soothing beams. The cut had been nothing of much importance, a fairly standard token of a regular battle, and Medic had been absolutely flabbergasted by the other man’s refusal of treatment. Finally, Medic had seceded, attending to himself before looking after the more serious injuries of a suddenly willing Heavy. As he pulled on his trousers, Medic recalled that long-ago evening, when he had approached Heavy in the common room to ask the man why he had been, to put it frankly, so pushy after the fight. The whole incident had struck the scholarly man as being rather odd, especially when the rest of his team had happily accepted healing, including those who were less injured than himself; respawn was something to be avoided at all costs, negating the inconvenience of a trip to the medical bay. At first Heavy had been evasive, saying that it was nothing, that he was only following the proper actions expected from a caring comrade. Nevertheless, Medic proved that he could be just as insistent as his teammate had been earlier, eventually prompting what he found to be a rather surprising response. “Doktor will not give up? Well, then I must tell Doktor the truth. Seeing you hurt reminded me of a story, by the great Russian novelist Tolstoy. There is a man, named Ivan. In some ways, he is like you: very smart, handsome, full of life.†“And what does this have to do with you refusing treatment for a bullet wound, hmm?†the Medic had impatiently countered, hiding his surprise at the complements and at the fact that Heavy had any knowledge of literature. “One day, Ivan is hurt. He falls, but ignores his own pain. Too busy. Too many other things to do. But Ivan was very wrong. The pain does not go away, and he realizes that he is dying. Ivan forgot himself in the – what is word – demands of the world. Forgot himself, forgot what is really important when he was working to be a successful man. Ivan…†Medic had interrupted Heavy, only privately acknowledging that the other man’s evaluation had some merit. “Hmrph. Well, I assure you my situation in no way mirrors this ‘Ivan’s’.†Dismissing the Heavy, Medic had stalked back to his infirmary. At the time, he had been very confused by the intelligent concern shown by the man who, up until that point, he had considered little more than a convenient meat-shield. Now he could recognize how very wrong he had been.
You have my attention, please continue.
Some more Heavy/Medic fluff. I’m just writing little bits right now because I’m busy with school, but I promise there are bigger, more plot related updates coming in the near future. :) --- Medic was shaken from his thoughts by the groaning protests of the bed as Heavy rose. The two men continued to dress in silence, their thoughts turned towards pleasant memories of the past and anxious worries about the future. Urgency tinged their actions as the rising sun’s light grew stronger; Heavy needed to return to his own room before their teammates rose. The cold crisp air up at the northern Viaduct base seemed to intensify the beams, only serving to increase their anxiety. At first Medic had not allowed Heavy to stay the night, for fear of being discovered, but time had granted a greater feeling of safety and confidence. Nevertheless, the lovers still recognized that they tread on a dangerous path. The Heavy sighed. “You know I must go Doktor. Large day to come.†Medic didn’t bother to correct Heavy’s slight language mistake, choosing instead to put his hands on his lover’s shoulders, rising to the tip of his toes and planting a chaste kiss on the bald man’s forehead. “Indeed. But we will be fine. We will be together.†Medic embraced the larger man, pressing his face against the broad chest and knocking his glasses askew. “There is no need for me to worry as long as I have you, yes?†Heavy returned the hug, wrapping his heavily muscled arms around the German man. The Medic was not small by any means, but in his lover’s arms he felt like a child – small, fragile, but oh so protected and warm. Bowing his head to brush his lips against the Medic’s neck, the Heavy planted his own kiss along with gentle words. “Doktor will always be safe with me. Should never be hurt, should never be scared.†Standing straight, the Heavy gazed at the Medic with his piercing blue eyes. “I will always come with Sascha. Doktor will never be alone.†A quiet understanding passed between them. Heavy was unquestionably willing to give his life for Medic. He would be willing to face the horrors of respawn himself to save his lover the pain. Medic buried his face against Heavy’s chest once more, taking solace in the large man’s arms. Respawn, although Medic had to admit it was a stunning scientific innovation, was still not without its flaws. Major flaws. The pain of having your body reassembled was agonizing enough on its own, even without adding the anguish of prolonged mental trauma. In reassembling a person’s consciousness, Respawn forced them to relive fragmented memories, focusing on those that had been fundamental in shaping their character. However, for most of the team, this meant revisiting parts of their lives that they would much rather forget. The team’s Demoman had needed to be sedated for nearly a week after his first respawn, crippled by the pain of continually losing his left eye. The Soldier had lost whatever mental stability he had left. Medic had been forced back into the war, an experience he refused to speak about. The team could try to cope with effects of respawn, but the fear was always there. Medic knew he couldn’t adequately express his gratitude for Heavy’s reassurance. The two men stood and held each other tight, cherishing the calm before the storm. Extricating himself from Heavy’s arms, Medic tried to cast off his vulnerability. They needed to be strong for each other. “Now go! I have to get ready too you know.†The Medic smiled as he shooed Heavy out of his room and into the infirmary proper. “It will only be a short while before I see you again.†The small flock of doves roosting in the infirmary stirred and cooed at the intrusion. Seeing Medic, they began to fly down, sensing that it was time to get their morning seed. As he backed up to the main door to avoid the growing number of doves surrounding Medic, Heavy contritely smiled back. “Дa Doktor. Will see you soon.â€
I’m just writing little bits right now because I’m busy with school Whatever amount you can produce, whenever you have the time, we will be waiting patiently, eagerly, right here! I have SUCH a case of the warm fuzzies right now. For a bloodthirsty maniac with a bonesaw and a laughing, singing weapons platform. It's wonderful.
I've never tried writing anything 'actiony' before, so this is the start of my first attempt. As always, crit is greatly appreciated. The two men moved forward with their daily routines. Heavy returned to his room, making it back just in time. He needed to be able to join the other men in the showers without eliciting any suspicion about his alternative sleeping arrangements. Medic prepared himself in his own quarters, using the shower conveniently attached to the infirmary. They didn’t meet up again until breakfast, and even then, only furtive smiles and brief, subtle contact were the only ways to express their affection. Brushing shoulders in the crowded kitchen, hands meeting in the reach for coffee mugs. Any touch was savored. “I reckon it’s gonna be a mighty unpleasant day,†the Engineer mused, half-heartedly picking at his toast. “Fightin’ over that one point, things get real ugly real fast.†The team Sniper nodded, staring bleakly into his coffee mug. “Bloody REDs need this land just as much as we do.†Sitting on either side of Engineer, Medic and Heavy made eye contact. Their conversation from earlier in the morning still hung heavily between them – they would need to protect each other in the brutal battle to come. Both teams would be fighting hard, and in such a small area, every action – especially every mistake – was magnified. An essential shipping route ran through the Viaduct territory; the team that held the land could easily receive the most supplies. Railroad tracks passed right above the contested point, a continued reminder of what was at stake. With all the tension in the air, breakfast was a largely quiet affair. Scout took the opportunity to run his mouth off about what feats of daring he believed he would be able to accomplish, but a box to the ears from the exasperated Demoman eventually shut him up. No one was sure whether Demoman was sincerely annoyed by Scout’s posturing or whether he was just seeking quiet while nursing a hangover. Still, the rest of the team appreciated the calm nonetheless. Breakfast proceeded in near silence, the men waking up and considering the day to come. Finally, it was time for the team to leave the fortified base and take their places in the respawn room. Respawn, little more than a dusty wooden shack at this outpost, would be the base of operations for the day’s battle, the place where anyone unfortunate enough to be killed would find himself returned to life. The room was stuffy and dusty, but the shifting around of the men brought a sense of movement and life to the dead air. Medic found himself standing behind Heavy, his hands hot and sweaty inside his large rubber gloves. The air was quiet and tense as the team awaited the signal. Making sure that all of his teammates had had a dose of the medigun’s beams, Medic fixed the ray on Heavy, preparing to run forward. Even while he appeared stoic and collected, Medic was full of self-doubt. Would he be able to keep his teammates from suffering respawn? Would they manage to capture the point? Would he be able to keep Heavy beside him? His direct responsibility was to protect people, not land, and the knowledge of his grave duty weighed heavily upon him. Meanwhile, the Heavy’s thoughts were much more straightforward. He knew what had to be done. The REDs must be defeated, his bravery must be demonstrated yet again, and his Doktor must be protected. With the reassuring weight of Sasha in his arms, the Heavy was prepared to fight. It was time. The team charged out, whooping and calling, gearing themselves up to be ready for anything. Even though Heavy was running full speed, Medic was able to stay close behind with an easy jog. He watched as most of his teammates ran through the various exits leading towards the point: Sniper and Demoman headed to the right, preparing to start their assault from the rocky hill, Spy cloaked, his direction unknown, Soldier and Pyro charged up the stairs to the left, and Scout dashed straight ahead. Engineer stayed behind to set up a teleporter. The doctor felt obliged to keep tabs on his teammates’ positions – a call for help could be answered much more quickly if you knew where it was coming from. Heavy headed for the center exit, hefting his large minigun by his side. Looking back, he flashed a smile towards Medic. “No need to fear tiny cowards, Дa? We will crush them!†The Medic gave a smile and a curt nod in return, taking reassurance in the Heavy’s confident tone. Any answer he may have given was cut off by a loud announcement over the speakers. “5. 4. 3. 2. 1. Control point enabled. Get going!†The icy female voice signaled their descent into hell. Moving towards the center point, the sounds of gunfire and explosions already filled the air. Medic looked up to see Soldier hurtling in the sky above the point, flames licking his boots in the aftermath of a successful rocket jump. Jogging forward with Heavy, Medic braced himself for the inevitable. “Hey Doc! C’mon man!†The first call of the day. Medic ran forward towards the source of the voice. He would have to leave Heavy behind for now, but the large man was more than able to handle himself. Reaching his patient, Medic found Scout slumped by the stairs inside the rickety two-story shack on the BLU side of the territory. “They gotta sentry ‘round the corner by the point,†Scout said in explanation of the bullet wounds peppering his side. “Demo’s already workin’ on it.†Medic directed the medigun and pulled the lever to turn it on. Scout’s injuries would have been severe in a more serious war, but the power of Medic’s technology quickly healed the young man back to the peak of health. A quick “Thanks Doc!†and the Scout was off. “Medic!†The brusque cry could be none other than Soldier. Medic set off to the source of the sound, the small concrete alcove in view of the point. Pointedly avoiding the more frenetic action, he swiftly reached Soldier. The military man was bleeding profusely from his chest, so Medic wasted no time in kneeling down to the other man’s level and starting up his gun’s healing rays. A small sound, little more than a gust of wind, caused Medic to jump into action. The medigun fell to the ground, while he grasped at his belt to grab the bonesaw holstered there. With a swift, sweeping motion, Medic turned to slash the saw behind him. He was rewarded with the sounds of ripping flesh, a gurgle as the larynx was severed, and a heavy thump as the RED Spy fell to the ground. The movement saved his life – unable to penetrate Medic’s back, the Spy’s knife had instead grazed his shoulder. The blood on the doctor’s white coat was striking, but it was nothing compared to the puddle quickly forming around the dying Spy’s corpse. A rattled wheeze and the man was gone, his body dissolving as respawn claimed its prize. Medic grimly attached the dripping saw back to his belt. Returning to his work, the Soldier was quickly healed and Medic was soon on his way back to the Heavy, his boots leaving bloody footprints in the crisp, fresh snow.
>"The doctor felt obliged to keep tabs on his teammates’ positions – a call for help could be answered much more quickly if you knew where it was coming from." That sentence is so very important in competitive TF2 play as a Medic. As a constitute Medic myself, I am SO SO SO glad to see a Medic that heals all of his teammates- not just the Heavy. This is. Fantastic fanfiction. Please continue!
Wow wonderful new chapter. This story is really good I love that it's sort of just every day life for Medic, but you still describe it in an interesting way that makes me want more. That being said, please update this again soon!
Will this be updated soon? Please continue, I have a case of the warm and fuzzies...
Thank you so much everyone for the positive comments! Things have been a bit crazy for me lately with all of my end of term school work, so I haven't had much time to write. But I promise that more is coming! Thanks again for encouraging me - seeing such kind things really inspires me to write more!
Consider yourself encouraged.
Well, I guess I will consider myself encouraged! With some prodding (thanks again!), I have a little more for you. I'm still not sure how I feel about this (I wrote it pretty quickly), but I'm going to put it out there after all of your lovely encouragement. It's a bit of a departure from the more intimate, quiet scenes from before, but I wanted to explore more of what it would be like during a battle. Once again, I love crit and appreciate all comments! --- Having heard the Scout’s yell, Heavy was not surprised to feel the glow of the medigun’s beams fade away. He continued up the small hill, trudging towards the point with his minigun spinning. A RED Scout and Soldier provided some small diversion, but they were quickly shredded by Sascha’s rapid fire. All of the rockets went wide, but Heavy winced as he felt the Scout’s buckshot imbed itself in his right thigh. He looked down to see the spots of blood spreading over his trousers – not a deadly wound to be sure, but still enough to slow him down significantly. Gritting his teeth, the large man limped onwards. With an explosive crash, Heavy heard the RED sentry fall victim to their Demoman’s bombs. The point was clear for the taking, and the Russian man had no qualms with slowly lumbering forward and planting himself on the small patch of land. --- As he finished patching up the Demoman after his reckless encounter with the sentry, Medic looked over to see Heavy begin to capture the point. He noted that the large man was limping, but it was nothing that the medigun couldn’t quickly fix. Against all expectations, things were going well and victory seemed well within their grasp. A broad grin spread over the doctor’s face as the medigun began to spark, tendrils of energy snaking over the metal surface. An ubercharge. It would be the perfect way to demolish the RED offensive and secure the point. Medic ran gleefully towards the Heavy, feeling ecstatic about the sheer power he held in his hands. They would be like gods, he thought, transcending the world of mere mortals in order to rain vengeance down upon their foes. There had been no need for all of the anxiety that morning; success seemed imminent, glory was assured. Together, he and Heavy would be the heroes, the saviours of the team. Approaching Heavy’s back, Medic directed the medigun towards his partner. The point was almost captured, and there could be no doubt in his mind that they would be able to hold it. He and Heavy would be united in the ubercharge. Together they would be magnificent… CRACK. A Sniper’s shot. Medic stumbled, falling to his knees before he could even realize what had happened. His vision was blurred – had his glasses fallen off? – but he could still see the Heavy standing in front of him. Opening his mouth to call, Medic was overwhelmed by a thick, warm, metallic taste. Blood? It was hard to gather his thoughts. He looked down at his chest. Blood. A shot through the heart. Blue fumes. The electric charge dispersed from his invention, jumping away into the air. Blue and red mingling together. A shot straight through his heart and through the medigun’s backpack. Red. Blue. Broken. He was not magnificent. He was dying. Falling, falling, falling… --- Heavy heard the shot followed the gurgled gasp behind him. Hoping against all hopes that their own Sniper had managed to down the enemy Spy, he hobbled to turn around. Medic was on his knees, blood dripping from his mouth and chest and into the white snow. The older man’s eyes were glazed over, unseeing, his mouth hanging open in a look of surprise. Crimson blood blossomed into the brilliant white of the starched coat. With a sigh, the Medic closed his eyes and crumpled to lie face down on the ground. Bellowing in anger and pain, Heavy lunged towards the doctor, letting his prized minigun fall from his hands. Large fingers grasping the unfamiliar medigun, Heavy tried to soothe Medic with the healing rays, but to no avail. The machinery was broken, the fumes leaking away to fade into the blue sky. Kneeling down, Heavy grasped the doctor and tried to use his broad hands to fan the healing mist towards the Medic’s chest. There was still no response from the dying man. Tears threatened to spill onto his cheeks, but the Heavy recited a litany of mental reassurances. “The Doktor will not die. We have respawn - it will be okay. It will all be okay. I won’t lose him.†“We have secured the control point.†None of that mattered right now. All that mattered to Heavy was the man lying on the ground in front of him. He would do anything to save the Medic, to save his life and save him from the terrors of a re-lived war from the past. Anything at all. CRACK. Heavy’s eyes rolled up in his head, blood seeping from a bullet wound in the middle of his forehead. His body slumped to the ground, releasing Medic and revealing the healing flesh that had been hidden underneath his hands. Heavy had managed to hold enough of the medigun fumes close to the doctor’s heart, making himself a prime target in the process. Medic was saved, but Heavy was not. --- Medic opened his eyes. The pain in his chest was intense, but he was alive. Who had saved him? Looking up, he only had time to let out a strangled cry as Heavy’s body faded away, yet another sacrifice to respawn.
Oh. Ouch. Thank you.