I think this is it, Graph. THE SHAPE OF A BOOMERANG (by Insidiae?) It had seemed so important at the time. Thunder Mountain was an invaluable resource that BLU needed to control, no matter what. Somehow, RED had managed to get a hold on it first, as they always did – something Medic couldn’t understand, especially when he was certain that Thunder Mountain had been discovered by BLU’s Engineer while he was looking over his grandfather’s blueprints – and once again, BLU was forced to push their way through the territory, hauling their cart of supplies behind them. The Administrator was there too, of course, calling the shots and demeaning members of both teams no matter how well they did. Medic had the sneaking suspicion that she knew about Thunder Mountain long before anyone else. “Mission will begin in thirty seconds.†Medic stood behind Heavy, building up an Uber. “I am fully charged,†he announced, with 5 seconds left in set up. Heavy grinned at him as the gates opened, then shot off faster than Medic had ever seen him move. Medic was briefly paralyzed by his surprise, then scrambled to catch up with the large man who was standing next to the cart, slowing crawling up with it. “Herr Heavy,†he panted, “vhat do you think you are doing?†He raised his medigun to release the Ubercharge, but Heavy pushed it to the side. “Ne,†he said with a shake of his head. “Don’t, Doktor.†Medic blinked at him. “Was?†“I have cart,†Heavy said. He laid a large hand on the metal rim, caressing it almost lovingly. “Is good enough. You should help others.†As if to prove his point, a well-hidden mini-sentry opened fire on them. Medic watched as Heavy gleefully raised Sasha, shattering the mounted gun, while a healing blue stream from the cart closed his wounds. “Herr Heavy-†“Leetle man needs help,†Heavy insisted. Sure enough, Medic could hear Scout’s cry of, “Doc! Come on, man!†in the distance. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that no one was as well-suited as Heavy to be healed by Medic. Soldier and Demoman were good second choices, but they tended to rocket- and sticky-jump to areas Medic couldn’t reach, leaving him stranded. Pyro was okay, but lacked the heavy fire power that really benefited from an Ubercharge. Engineer had his dispenser for all of his healing needs. Sniper never went to the front lines, and thus an Uber would be wasted on him, and he couldn’t heal Spy because that would give away his position. And Scout… Scout would just wait until was fully healed, before running off again without a care in the world, leaving Medic in his dust. Medic opened his mouth to voice his objections, but Heavy sent him a look that silenced his protests. "I am fine, Doktor." "Alright," Medic said, resisting the urge to snarl. "Fine." Fine. He grit his teeth and left Heavy with his precious cart in search of Scout, the ire withing him rising with every step he took. He couldn't explain why exactly Heavy's refusal made him so enraged, only that he needed some outlet to let it loose. That was then. Now, however, lying on his back with Scout hovering between his legs, Medic can't help but think that his response may have been somewhat juvenile. And how exactly did they end up in this position? Medic remembers the slow push of the cart up the mountain, the Administrator's bored sigh of, "Victory," the RED running away, defenseless. He remembers his anger blocking all thought, even the delight of winning, and then there was Scout, whooping with joy, and- "You sure about this, Doc?" Medic glares up at Scout, because what the hell kind of question is that when they're both already naked and sprawled on the floor of the former RED base? "Are you having second zhoughts?" "No!" Scout says quickly. Unable to keep still even now, he runs one hand up and down Medic's thigh, and the older man appreciates the gentle gesture. "It's just, I thought you and lard-face were..." Medic raises an eyebrow. "Vould it really matter to you if ve vere?" "Hey man, not cool," Scout murmurs. "I ain't no home-wrecker." As he says this, however, he slides a hand between Medic's legs, nudging a condom-covered finger at the cleft of his ass. Medic sighs as that finger starts to push in, reveling in the feeling. It's been so long since he's been on the receiving end, since Heavy is always afraid he'll... At that thought, Medic scowls. "Herr Heavy and I are teammates und comrades und nozhing else. Ve vork vell togezher. Zhat is all." Scout pauses. He slowly rolls the condom onto a second finger, looking down at Medic pensively. Finally, he says, "Don't bullshit me, Doc. I've heard you two fucking." "So vhat?" Medic snorts. "Ve are having sex now. Does zhat mean you vant to marry me?" Scout sighs and pushes both fingers into Medic. He understands the appeal of casual sex well enough, especially given the circumstances. He pushes his fingers against the inner walls of Medic's ass, but jerks to a stop when a smooth hand closes around his own erection. "Whoa- fuck!" "I am getting impatient," Medic says dryly. His thumb flicks over the tip of Scout's arousal in a way that makes him yowl. "Eizher fuck me or leave." "J-Jesus fucking-" Scout pulls away, just enough for him to bend backwards - remarkably lithe, the boy is - and reach into his shorts. He grabs another condom from a pocket and discards the one on his fingers, throwing it behind him. "Christ," he murmurs as he rolls it onto his cock, "I was just trying to make it hurt less, ya goddamn fascist." Medic narrows his eyes and a reaches a hand up, grabbing Scout's jaw between his thumb and forefinger. "Vatch it, trottel," he warns. They stare at each other like that for a long moment, at an impasse. Finally, Scout says, "Yeah, yeah," and swats away Medic's hand. He grabs one of the German's legs and throws it over his shoulder. "Now, ya might feel a big prick," he says with a grin. Medic rolls his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, junge," he says, but then Scout is inside him and it doesn't matter. The doctor hums. Oh, how he's missed this feeling! And while Scout probably overestimates himself, he's still more than adequate for giving Medic that wonderful, filled sensation. Above him, Scout rises up a bit on his legs and grabs onto to his thighs, thrusting from his hips. Medic raises his ass a little in return, groaning as this new angle finally allows Scout to hit his prostate. This right here, this is what he's been missing. The white lights bursting behind his eyes on every stroke; the ability to just let go and let someone else do the work for once. Just one time, he'd like Heavy to take control, but the Russian always insists on- Medic manages to glower, even through his building pleasure. The reason for all of this, he realizes, is jealousy. He's jealous. And of an inanimate object, no less. That gottverdammte cart! He tries to focus on Scout, on the way the boy's mouth feels on his chest, or his hand on Medic's cock, but all the German can hear is Doktor, Docktor- "Doktor?" Medic's eyes snap open and he whips his head to the side. In the doorway, with a look of open-mouthed shock on his face, stands Heavy. "Holy shit!" Scout yells and he tries to reel back, but Medic locks his ankles and squeezes him with his legs, holding him in place. "The flyin' fuck? Lemme go, Doc!" He struggles, but Medic doesn't budge an inch, and the difference in their body types becomes apparent. They're the two fastest members of the team, but while Scout is built lean and aerodynamic, Medic has thickly muscled thighs for short bursts of speed, which now clamp Scout tightly. "Nein," he says simply, and Scout gapes at him. Meanwhile, Heavy is still frozen in place, trying to come to terms with what he's seeing. "Doktor, what...? Medic grins nastily, all teeth and curled lips. "Kleine Mann braucht Hilfe," he tells Heavy, knowing that he'll understand the German. /Little man needs help./ His smile looks like shards of glass as he watches Heavy put two and two together, and the look of betrayal that falls over the Russian's features is so delightful that Medic almost finds himself giggling. Feels bad, doesn't it? Can you feel the schadenfreude? Medic gloats in his personal victory, unable to take his eyes off of Heavy's expression. Then Scout punches him in the face. "You lying sack of shit!" he roars. "I tell you not to bullshit me, and what do you fucking do?" "Doktor!" Heavy cries, an automatic reaction to seeing Medic injured. "Oh, get a life, fatass. He's fine." Scout drags Medic's head up by his hair and presents it. His nose, broken from Scout's punch, is already beginning to heal thanks to whatever shit Medic jacks himself up with that lets him regenerate. "Teammates and nothing more, my ass," he growls under his breath. To Heavy, he says, "Drop the gun, get in the room, and close the door." "Wha-" "I said do it, chucklenuts! Don't make me say it again!" Medic begins to come out of his daze as Heavy obeys, dropping Sasha with a clang like a cannon and closing the door with a click like the safety of a gun. The noises rattle Medic brain, and he returns to complete awareness only to find Scout tugging on his scalp. "Feiger hund! Verpiss di-!" "Shut the fuck up!" Scout slams his head back down onto the tile. Another wound to be mended. "You've lost your speaking privileges, pally ." "Razvedchik?" Scout sighs and turns his attention back to Heavy. "C'mere, big guy," he says softly, sounding suddenly exhausted. Heavy takes a few slow steps towards him, his eyes drifting downwards to Scout's cock, still balls deep inside Medic. "You understand what's going on, dontcha?" Heavy's brow furrows as though he's unsure, but he nods. "Sie Hurensohn," Medic moans, bringing a hand to his bruised head. "Yeah, fuck you, Doc." Scout clucks his tongue. "You know I didn't know about this, right?" he asks Heavy. "You know I'm just trying to make the best of this shit?" Heavy smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Da." Scout's lips twitch. "Alright, alright. Drop trou, fatty." Medic chokes, coughing and spitting and turning red in the face. "Vhat do you zhink you are d-" "You must actually think I'm dumb as shit," Scout hisses. "You really think I'm going to let you use me and get away with it? Fuck that." To his side, Heavy is unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly. Medic watches closely in spite of himself, even as Scout says, "I'll tell you what I'm doing. I'm going to keep fucking you, and while I do, I'm also going to suck this big lug off." Medic's eyes bulge. "But vhy-?" "/Because/, deutschebag, this is the best thing I can think of to fix /your/ stupid mess. I didn't want to be part of this sort of shit - I told you I ain't no home-wrecker - but you made me a part and now I'm going to make the best of it." He shrugs, and the dog tags hanging around his neck jingle with the movement. "At least this way, I figure, everybody gets something. Real community-like. Ruskie over here should love it." Heavy harrumphs and pushes down his pants and underwear. "And when all of this is over, we're going to forget it ever happened and move on." Medic snarls. "Und you zhink I vill go along vith all zhis because vhy?" "Because, chucklenuts," Scout says, "you're still hard," and he reaches a hand to the base of Medic's erection and drags it up, the athletic tape grazing against the vein on its journey. Medic howls and Scout leans down to swallow the sound with his mouth, then brings it back to nip at Medic's chin. Mouth attached firmly to Medic's throat, he starts to thrust again. Medic tries to say something, but can't find the breath to form the words. Scout keeps ramming his prostate now, and as angry as Medic is at the whole situation, he also really, really wants to come. He can get his revenge on the little /rotzbengel/ later, and plans to do just that - just as soon as he sates the burning hunger he's drowning in. Satisfied that Medic is no longer truly protesting the turn of events, Scout allows himself to fall into an easy rhythm. Losing himself in the pace, he motions with one hand for Heavy to come closer, and turns his head to the side to take him into his mouth. Too big to fully swallow, Scout instead licks a long line from the underside of Heavy's cock, then swirls his tongue around the head. His thrusts into Medic slow somewhat as he divides his attentions between two tasks. One of Heavy's large hands settles on his head, firm but gentle, helping him keep the rhythm. Medic makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whine of dissatisfaction. Grinning around the head of Heavy's erection, Scout reaches down half-blindly to dig his fingers into Medic's pelvis and snaps his hips forward. Medic groans again, this time sounding much more pleased. While Scout concentrates on Medic, Heavy trails his free hand down to tug at himself, gripping the parts that Scout's mouth can't reach. When Scout finally focuses back on the Russian, he finds the large man jerking himself quickly, and follows the movement with hungry eyes. His tongue darts to lick at the seam beneath Heavy's foreskin, and when Heavy rumbles like thunder from the back of his throat, Scout repeats the action. Heavy rewards Scout by leaning forward, curling over his head, and reaching a single, thick finger down, between the globes of Scout's ass and into him. Scout pulls away from Heavy's cock, lets out a yelp, and comes immediately at the intrusion, spilling into the condom - into Medic. When the white clears from his vision, he tries to roll away, but Medic digs his heels into his thighs, pulling him even closer. Scout risks a look at his face. Medic's expression looks like it couldn't choose between fury and arousal, so eventually it settled on a mix of both. Hoping to wipe the scowl of his face, Scout stretches his hand between them and grips Medic. He glances back up to see if Medic seems happier, but frowns at what he encounters. Medic isn't looking at him. Medic is staring straight at Heavy, and Heavy is staring straight back at him. It's as though Scout doesn't even exist. Determined not to be forgotten, Scout tries every trick he knows - tightening and loosening his fist as goes, twisting at the base, fondling Medic's balls, but ultimately, it is Heavy who holds the key to Medic release. "Doktor," he whispers, almost inaudibly, and Medic comes right there and then, all over Scout's hand. Heavy follows a second later, long spurts of semen falling onto Scout's hair and face. The boy sputters and reels away, this time successfully removing himself from Medic's grip. He reaches for his discarded shirt and starts wiping himself off as the other two come down from their orgasmic haze. "Well, that was fun an' all," he says as he pulls his socks on, "but next time you queens fight, do me a fava' and fuckin' work it our yourselves." He snaps the button at the top of his trousers and pulls up his fly. Heavy grabs the shirt from him and rubs at his ear. "You miss spot," he says by way of explanation. Scout grimaces and snatches his shirt back, making sure he's completely clean this time. The last thing he needs is for Demoman or Spy to find him with come in his hair. He pulls the shirt down and examines the now thoroughly-ruined piece of clothing with a wince. "Aw, wicked gross, man." He stuffs it in a garbage can by the door, along with the used condom, but then decides to take the bag with him. With any luck, he'll be able to get Pyro to just burn it all. For a moment, there's this terrible, awkward silence. Then Scout shrugs his shoulders, cocks his head to the side, and says, "Well, see you fairies later," making a hasty exist. Heavy watches him go, then turns to Medic. The healer is rolling onto his side, fingernails digging into the tiled floor beneath him. There's a murderous glint in his eyes that Heavy knows all too well. "Doktor?" Medic snaps his seething gaze over to him. "Vhat. Is it. Herr. Heavy." Heavy cows a bit in the face of Medic's rage, but steels his resolve. "Let it go." Medic resists the urge to scream, but just barely. There's a million things he wants to say - petty insults, horrible curses, even an apology. "Doktor, pozhaluĭsta." A million things. "Doktor?" Medic chooses to say none of them. And his silence speaks loudly enough.