Awww... you guys make me smile. Here, have some more. Random little bit with Engineer and Scout thrown in because someone mentioned it here. Not really slashy but I thought I'd toss it in there anyway. -------------- At half past six on Saturday, Medic was in the infirmary. He sat at his desk, writing up a few notes and very much aware that his mind was wandering. He couldn't remember the last time he had had a night of drinking and merriment; ever since he had left college, he had been devoted to his job with no time for such frivolities. Before that, the clubs of Stuttgart had taken up much of his attention... He smiled, thinking back to those times, then sighed and stood up. He was done for the night. He closed up the infirmary and went to his room. The question remained: could he make himself presentable? It was a party, after all, or so Heavy had said. He certainly did not have what he considered to be the proper attire for a party – no nice suit, no tuxedo, nothing bar his uniform. His hand touched the contents of his coat pocket. He briefly thought about taking them with him, then threw the condom and lube into the drawer of his desk. No point in tormenting himself... Medic left his lab coat and tie hanging over the back of his chair, and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. He looked at his worn face in the mirror, noting the dark circles under his eyes. Had he always looked this tired, he wondered? “Who would have a man like you?†he murmured to himself. A loud knock at the door nearly made him jump out of his skin. Medic breathed deeply, steeling himself, then opened it quickly. It was Heavy, looking much like he usually did apart from the absence of his huge flak jacket. His plain T-shirt stretched over his chest, outlining his thick muscles. Medic forced himself, with some difficulty, to look only at his face. “Guten abend, Herr Heavy. You are early, I see.†“Party has already started, Doktor! You are ready now? You are looking very nice!†“I – ah... yes, I am ready. Zank you.†Medic stepped out and pulled his door closed. He could already feel his hands shaking. They walked to the rec room, Heavy chattering about what he had put in the sandwiches and Medic becoming increasingly nervous. The strains of jazz music were coming from the rec room. Medic pushed the door open, and his jaw simply dropped at the sight of Pyro and Engineer swing dancing in the middle of the floor, under a weird sparkling ball that cast a thousand motes of light on every surface. The whole space was darkened, and the card table was pushed over to one side and covered in plates and bottles. One of the dispensers had apparently been rigged as a jukebox, and Soldier and Scout were arguing over the music selection. Demo was already sitting comfortably on one of the couches, drinking from one of his horrible brown bottles. Spy and Sniper were conspicuously absent. Medic resisted the urge to turn around and run back to his room. He couldn't quite make himself move forward either, however. Heavy solved the conundrum by placing one enormous hand on his back and pushing him inside. “See, Doktor, is fun! Have drink and dance!†Oh, no. No dancing. Medic could dance very well, but dancing meant touching, and Heavy's touch was already too much for him. It made him think of things that Heavy would certainly not approve of. He settled for a drink. Demo had come up with a few bottles of stuff that wouldn't poison someone other than him, and Engineer had provided a crate of American beer. One or two would loosen him up at least. Medic took a bottle of beer, and sat on the armchair opposite Demo. “So,†he said, “Zis seems nice...†“Da! We are needing party to relax after long week!†said Heavy, as he sat down beside Demo with a sandwich. “In Russia, is well known that party every now and then is good for soul. Maybe, how you say, blow off steam?†He grinned, and began to munch his food. “Aye, ye got that right, mate,†Demo said, chugging back some more of his whiskey. “Shame we could nae hire a few hoors as well, then the evenin'd be just about perfect.†Heavy slapped him on the back, making him cough on the booze. “Ah, you make joke, my friend! Nearest town is hours away! By the time women get here, party will be over!†Medic couldn't help smiling. Heavy looked so happy... He jumped as Engineer placed one hand on his shoulder. “Heya Doc, glad you could make it. Think you might be tempted to get up an' dance?†Medic glanced at the jukebox dispenser. Pyro had chased Soldier and Scout away, and was lining up another record. “Ah – nein, danke. I do not dance.†Engineer grinned at him. “Well now, as it happens, I can teach you how to swing -†Medic shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. I know how, but I do not vish to dance. I... have two left feet, Herr Engineer. Bitte, I do not vant to embarrass myself.†Engineer patted his shoulder. “Alright, Doc, we'll see how you feel about it later.†He turned and shouted at Scout. “Hey, Scout, you wanna learn how to do the Charleston?†They were treated to the sight of Engineer pulling Scout unwillingly to his feet. “Dammit, lemme alone, Engie, I don't wanna do no faggot dancing!†“Boy, are you dumb as well as mouthy? You learn how to swing, and every girl from here to Chicago is gonna want your ass.†That got his attention. Scout stared at him, not quite believing it. “What, really?†Engineer tapped his chest proudly. “Been married twice as a result. Take it from me, the ladies love a man who knows how to move his body.†Scout let himself be guided out into the middle of the floor, and Engineer began to talk him through the dance. “See, you put your hands here, an' her hands go here, an' the first thing you do is put your foot out like so – an' a-one, an' a-two-†He wasn't all that bad, Medic thought privately. Scout picked it up quickly at least. Perhaps it was because he was so young. Medic recalled learning the same dance in Stuttgart, and his cheeks suddenly felt hot. He covered up the blush by drinking deeply from the bottle of beer, then coughing at the harsh taste. Demo chuckled at him. “If that's chokin' ye, boyo, ye'll probably want to stay offa mah scrumpy fer the night.†Medic nodded, still coughing and unable to speak. He began to feel ridiculous. Here he was, improperly dressed, and making a fool of himself with this horrible American beer... If it wasn't for Heavy, he would have made some excuse already and left. But the music was good. He found himself tapping his foot unconsciously. He could stay and talk, Medic thought desperately. He would have one or two drinks, enjoy Heavy's company, and then leave before he started to feel even more self-conscious. “Vhere is Spy und Sniper tonight?†he asked, by way of starting a conversation. Demo gestured with his whiskey bottle. “The Aussie weren't interested. Said he had a book he wanted to read, or some such. Spy -†“Spy was not invited,†Heavy snapped. “Is better that he is not here.†“Why are ye so het up about him, mate?†Demo asked, poking him in the shoulder. “It cannae be only because he plays fer the other team, as it were -†“Shut up. Is no business of yours,†Heavy said angrily, and finished the last of his sandwich. Medic looked down, trying to hide the intense heartache that he could only imagine was written large in his eyes. He stared at the beer for a few moments, then knocked it back in one go and reached for another. By his third beer, he was engaged in a heated discussion with Soldier about whether Germany would have been able to invade America during the war. By his fifth, he had one arm draped around Demo, and they were singing drinking songs at the top of their lungs. At some point, he realized that he had not eaten any dinner at all, but the fact seemed rather unimportant. By his seventh, he had dragged Heavy out under the disco ball and was trying to teach him how to waltz. Despite his earlier reluctance, he couldn't stop himself from touching Heavy at every opportunity. He grabbed his arm to get his attention, leaned into him as they moved across the floor. The big man seemed to take it as playful drunkenness, but Medic had to at least admit to himself that it wasn't, and that it was somewhat dangerous. He couldn't help wanting it, wanting any touch at all; anything to get his hands on that muscled body, no matter how ridiculous the excuse... The night wound down with all of them singing and Engineer playing guitar. Medic couldn't think straight through the fuzzy, alcoholic haze, and he kept forgetting to speak English instead of German, but he was having too much fun to care. He was slumped on the couch, leaning against Heavy for support and feeling wonderfully happy for once. Engineer yawned first. “I think I'll be turnin' in now, y'all. Been a good night – we should do this again sometime.†“Da, is great night,†Heavy agreed. He shifted a little, and Medic fell sideways into his lap. He made a pretence of trying to push himself up again, but he found he rather enjoyed the heat of one enormous thigh under his cheek, and the feel of the trousers under his hands. “Ah... es tut mir leid, Herr Heavy... bitte... I haf much to drink.†Heavy lifted him up by his shoulders, and Medic latched onto his arms for support. He felt groggy and slightly silly. Heavy shook his head at him, and helped him stand up rather unsteadily. “I go to bed too. I will take Doktor back to room as well on the way. Say good night, Doktor!†“Ja, good night everyone... vielen danke for ze party,†he said, as he staggered towards the door. It seemed to wobble back and forth across his vision, and he managed to grasp the doorknob on the third attempt. Heavy caught him again as he opened the door and stumbled backwards instead of walking through it. Going back to his room... yes, going back to his room, and Heavy would come in and perhaps stay a little while, and... all kinds of pleasurable things floated through his dizzy, drunk mind. He smiled like an idiot, and tripped over his own feet again. Heavy had one broad arm around his waist, keeping him upright as he staggered onwards. Was there something wrong about that? Heavy didn't like men, not in the way he did. Oh, to hell with it, it didn't matter. It felt great. Medic felt great. He saw Spy approaching, and managed to wave at him. “Hello, my friend! I am very, very drunk,†he declared happily. Heavy immediately glowered at the Frenchman, who in turned simply stared at Medic with a curious smile. They stopped for a moment as Spy blocked their way. “What has the Doctor been drinking?†he asked with a hint of amusement. “Is no concern of yours.†Heavy snapped. “I am taking Doktor to his room. He needs to sleep.†Medic threw his arms around Heavy's neck, and pulled his chin around to face him. His skin was warm, like a hot water bottle, and the big man's cheeks were flushed. Maybe he had had some beer too? “Why are you so mean to Spy?†he asked plaintively. “There is nothing wrong with liking men, my big Russian bear... You are always so nice to me, but I really like you. That is not wrong, is it?†Heavy didn't understand. Through the haze, Medic realized that he really should speak English. He became aware that Spy was chuckling. “Vhat isss being zo funny?†Medic slurred. “I am jussss asking a question, Sssspy...†“Perhaps I should take the Doctor to his room?†Spy offered. “Before he, ah, embarrasses himself further.†“No! I will take Doctor. I am not needing help from you,†Heavy growled threateningly, and his grip around Medic's waist got tighter. Something in his voice seemed wrong, even dangerous, but Medic was barely conscious of it. His head was swimming delightfully now, and he had no sense of balance at all. He could feel himself falling again but it didn't seem to matter all that much. Heavy would keep him standing. A second strong arm circled his waist. His whole body was in contact with the other man, and it felt wonderful – all that hard muscle, all that heat, the feel of soft skin under his fingers. So nice, and his mouth was so close and looked so inviting... “Not that I really want to stop you, Doctor, but you're going to regret this in the morning,†Spy said quickly. Medic stared at him groggily before turning back to Heavy. “Isss okay, yes? Jusss vun kisss...†It all made sense in his head. Just one kiss. Heavy didn't approve of this kind of thing, but surely one little kiss would be alright – or maybe a big one, because some part of him knew he wouldn't get this chance again. The man looked confused, then astonished, and as he started to respond, Medic's self-control finally broke down. He closed his eyes and dragged Heavy's head down to his. Common sense might have told him to be gentle, and perhaps he would be forgiven in the morning, but it was swiftly overruled by alcohol and sexual frustration. He forced Heavy's mouth wide open, went for his tongue with a vengeance, and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. Hot. Wet. Quite sloppy, but then again, he was very drunk. There was no technique, no reason – just the overwhelming need for as much sensation as possible. The grip on his waist became a warm, enveloping hug; strong arms wrapped around him and held him close. Butterflies danced in his stomach, and his whole body felt like it was floating; the feeling went on forever and ever, in a world that contained nothing but the heat of his touch and the taste of his lips. Medic had to breathe sometime, though, and eventually he fell back to earth. They separated with a loud smacking sound. He nuzzled Heavy's neck, feeling his feet slipping out from under him. “Mmm... tassssty...†he murmured, and finally blacked out with a smile on his face.