fic: A Public Service Announcement
Feb. 5th, 2018 04:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: A Public Service Announcement
Series: TF2
Character/pairing: Scout/Miss Pauling
Rating: pg-13
Word count: 1526
Summary: Miss Pauling gathers several mercenaries, and other coworkers to have a little talk about how they keep treating Scout. The kind of talk which involves a machine gun.
Author's note:
Canon-typical gore. (Or at least threats of canon-typical gore.) This is a silly little thing which is post-Expiration date but has nothing to do with current TF comics or MVM era.
For Sarah.
The room was filled with several mercenaries, a giant hole in the wall where Saxton Hale had burst through. Broken glass littered the floor, as they all arrived. It crunched, unheeded, under their boots as they sat down in the rather rickety folding chairs that had been provided.
Someone had thrown several guns and empty beer cans up to get caught in the chandelier that swung precariously above them, the chains that held it up had almost been all shot off. The actual culprit hadn't been caught, but alcohol was surely involved.
The walls had been crumbling long before Saxton Hale installed his own kind of door. But TF Industries always was on the brink of collapsing. Half from budget cuts, half from their habit of just executing employees instead of fixing things.
As for the mercenaries, a great deal of them had ripped up uniforms from battle, and a few (namely Soldier) looked as if he'd literally attempted to mud wrestle with someone. Or multiple someone's.
Spy chainsmoked, with a constant stream of vile French words as he dabbed at a spot of mud on his suit jacket.
And Scout was even more torn-up than usual. He had a black eye, gauze up his arm and to hide a series of slashes, a cast across the other arm, and a bunch more gauze peeking out from under his hat, which sat haphazardly over a sizable goose egg on the left side of his head.
Miss Pauling glanced across the room at all of the mercenaries. Her eyes lingered on Scout for a moment. He attempted to wink, but that was hard to do with a black eye.
"Good. You're all here."
She set a brown paper bag on the floor beside her. She had a sub machine gun held casually in her hands. Given the base, it was no surprise, and none of the men raised a brow. (Well, except for Scout, but that was flirty. It was also one of the few parts of him which wasn't broken right now.)
"Didn't see any briefin'," Sniper said.
She scrunched up her nose. "This is more of a personal than job briefing."
Miss Pauling began to pace in front of the chairs, gun still in hand. "It's come to my attention that you keep beating up Scout outside of business hours."
A snicker passed through the crowd. She glared back, until there was nothing but silence.
"Leaving a bird inside his chest and stealing his kidneys, strangling him, blowing him up, using him as target practice for your sentries under the guise of 'helping him get a faster run time,' slapping him, poisoning his food for fun, ripping off his limbs and beating him with them, shanking him with a machete over the last beer, setting him on fire, and last but certainly not least--physically using him as a weapon."
Several of the men coughed several times, in order to cover up laughter. But otherwise, none spoke up or made any denials of her accusation.
She held up the gun with the sweetest smile. "I think you all forgot something important: He's my boyfriend. Keep it up, and I'll gladly make you so full of holes, you'll look like a chain-link fence. And Saxton Hale--I may work with you, but that doesn't mean you're exempt."
Her smile darkened, until there was a kind of blood lust in her green eyes. "Any questions?" She glanced across the room.
"None? Good, save them for someone who gives a damn and has a bit of mercy. He's mine. If he has a bruise on his neck, or wrists after hours, then I better damn well have been the one who put it there. Because I swear, if you keep this up, you'll get to see just what I can do with this gun. And how good I am with knives, and poisons, and everything else. I'll have you know I once killed a man with a paperclip. Don't try me."
The men were left stunned. Except for Scout, who was left beaming, and a little stunned by her. He always looked like that, though. A goofy, dreamy grin and a sigh as she did about anything. He'd even done that today when she'd organized her desk. To be fair, it was a very efficient organization session. She'd cleaned the whole desk in less than three minutes.
"Heh, you all got your ass handed to you by a tiny girl! A tiny awesome girl, that is!"
"You see what we have to put up with?" Spy said.
"You'll have to find another way to put up with it," she said.
She walked between the stunned men, this time with a "Here's your lunch." She stood on tiptoe, and gave Scout a kiss on his bruised cheek.
She glanced back towards the men. Despite the fact that all of them but Engineer towered over her, even while seated, they watched her much more warily now.
"You're dismissed...but remember: you have to sleep sometime. And I know exactly where you are at all hours. If you decide to forget this little talk we have and go back to hurting him, I'm going to know about it. And trust me: I will hunt you down and make you pay for every single bruise you leave on him."
She walked out without another word. There wasn't a single smart comment from any of the men. It was only when she completely disappeared that the men a collective sigh of relief.
Except for Scout, who let out a dreamy sigh.
"What a girl. She even gave me ham on rye with swiss!" Scout said.
"She's real serious, that one," Sniper said.
"Indeed," Spy said.
Demoman shook his head. "Talk about pokin' the dragon. Ye think ye can handle a lassie like that?" Demoman said.
"I been handlin' her just fine," Scout said. "And plenty, too."
Demoman laughed. "Ye know, the minute ye wink at another girl, she'll shank ye in the showers."
"Gimme a break! You date a girl like that and other girls don't even exist," Scout said.
"They'd better if ye want to live," Demoman said.
Miss Pauling reappeared at the door. It was like a single flinch went through the men--save for Scout, who was too busy eating.
"And one more thing--Medic, heal him already. No denying healing because you feel like it, or because you got tired of him suggesting where dispensers should go."
Medic muttered something in German and pulled out his medigun. A brilliant light covered him.
Scout's bruises all quickly disappeared, but his smile didn't.
Saxton Hale burst out laughing. "She reminds me of Helen, when she was younger. Not surprising, considering. Like mother, like daughter, as they say."
"Before ye know it, she'll be the one yellin' at us over the speakers," Demoman said.
"God, I can't wait," Scout said. "Just think, I'd get to hear her all day talkin' about how great I am over the loudspeakers. She'd get to watch every move, and mention how great it was how I saved the day. It'd be all 'and it's my handsome husband here, takin' that briefcase full of papers nobody gives a shit about to the other side! He shoots, he scores, and gets a million dollars for it--and more importantly, a kiss! Now we're in overtime so he can go get his kiss!"
"Keep dreamin', laddie," Demoman said.
"Oh, I will. Trust me," Scout said.
He finished the last bite of his sandwich and headed out. But before he walked through the door--or the jagged hole in the wall which could be used as a door--Scout smugly looked back at his coworkers. "Well, fellas, I'm off to be awesome. I'm goin' to have so much time not bein' slapped or strangled, and havin' my bones broken in fifty places that maybe I'll take up tapdancin'! When Miss Pauling is your girlfriend, anythin' is possible. Even not being punched!"
With a laugh, he ran off.
*
The next day, pictures of Scout were taped to the punching bags inside the gym. Gym participation went up, and so did buying gym equipment. Especially punching bags, which had a habit of not being burnt, cut into pieces, and shot.
The other newest installation were a rather Orwellian poster set, with a picture of Miss Pauling and a caption of Remember, I'm Always Watching You.
Just in case they forgot.
By the end of the week, they were marked up with little hearts in the empty space, and Miss Pauling is the greatest, so is Scout, we're great together scribbled in the margin.
Series: TF2
Character/pairing: Scout/Miss Pauling
Rating: pg-13
Word count: 1526
Summary: Miss Pauling gathers several mercenaries, and other coworkers to have a little talk about how they keep treating Scout. The kind of talk which involves a machine gun.
Author's note:
Canon-typical gore. (Or at least threats of canon-typical gore.) This is a silly little thing which is post-Expiration date but has nothing to do with current TF comics or MVM era.
For Sarah.
The room was filled with several mercenaries, a giant hole in the wall where Saxton Hale had burst through. Broken glass littered the floor, as they all arrived. It crunched, unheeded, under their boots as they sat down in the rather rickety folding chairs that had been provided.
Someone had thrown several guns and empty beer cans up to get caught in the chandelier that swung precariously above them, the chains that held it up had almost been all shot off. The actual culprit hadn't been caught, but alcohol was surely involved.
The walls had been crumbling long before Saxton Hale installed his own kind of door. But TF Industries always was on the brink of collapsing. Half from budget cuts, half from their habit of just executing employees instead of fixing things.
As for the mercenaries, a great deal of them had ripped up uniforms from battle, and a few (namely Soldier) looked as if he'd literally attempted to mud wrestle with someone. Or multiple someone's.
Spy chainsmoked, with a constant stream of vile French words as he dabbed at a spot of mud on his suit jacket.
And Scout was even more torn-up than usual. He had a black eye, gauze up his arm and to hide a series of slashes, a cast across the other arm, and a bunch more gauze peeking out from under his hat, which sat haphazardly over a sizable goose egg on the left side of his head.
Miss Pauling glanced across the room at all of the mercenaries. Her eyes lingered on Scout for a moment. He attempted to wink, but that was hard to do with a black eye.
"Good. You're all here."
She set a brown paper bag on the floor beside her. She had a sub machine gun held casually in her hands. Given the base, it was no surprise, and none of the men raised a brow. (Well, except for Scout, but that was flirty. It was also one of the few parts of him which wasn't broken right now.)
"Didn't see any briefin'," Sniper said.
She scrunched up her nose. "This is more of a personal than job briefing."
Miss Pauling began to pace in front of the chairs, gun still in hand. "It's come to my attention that you keep beating up Scout outside of business hours."
A snicker passed through the crowd. She glared back, until there was nothing but silence.
"Leaving a bird inside his chest and stealing his kidneys, strangling him, blowing him up, using him as target practice for your sentries under the guise of 'helping him get a faster run time,' slapping him, poisoning his food for fun, ripping off his limbs and beating him with them, shanking him with a machete over the last beer, setting him on fire, and last but certainly not least--physically using him as a weapon."
Several of the men coughed several times, in order to cover up laughter. But otherwise, none spoke up or made any denials of her accusation.
She held up the gun with the sweetest smile. "I think you all forgot something important: He's my boyfriend. Keep it up, and I'll gladly make you so full of holes, you'll look like a chain-link fence. And Saxton Hale--I may work with you, but that doesn't mean you're exempt."
Her smile darkened, until there was a kind of blood lust in her green eyes. "Any questions?" She glanced across the room.
"None? Good, save them for someone who gives a damn and has a bit of mercy. He's mine. If he has a bruise on his neck, or wrists after hours, then I better damn well have been the one who put it there. Because I swear, if you keep this up, you'll get to see just what I can do with this gun. And how good I am with knives, and poisons, and everything else. I'll have you know I once killed a man with a paperclip. Don't try me."
The men were left stunned. Except for Scout, who was left beaming, and a little stunned by her. He always looked like that, though. A goofy, dreamy grin and a sigh as she did about anything. He'd even done that today when she'd organized her desk. To be fair, it was a very efficient organization session. She'd cleaned the whole desk in less than three minutes.
"Heh, you all got your ass handed to you by a tiny girl! A tiny awesome girl, that is!"
"You see what we have to put up with?" Spy said.
"You'll have to find another way to put up with it," she said.
She walked between the stunned men, this time with a "Here's your lunch." She stood on tiptoe, and gave Scout a kiss on his bruised cheek.
She glanced back towards the men. Despite the fact that all of them but Engineer towered over her, even while seated, they watched her much more warily now.
"You're dismissed...but remember: you have to sleep sometime. And I know exactly where you are at all hours. If you decide to forget this little talk we have and go back to hurting him, I'm going to know about it. And trust me: I will hunt you down and make you pay for every single bruise you leave on him."
She walked out without another word. There wasn't a single smart comment from any of the men. It was only when she completely disappeared that the men a collective sigh of relief.
Except for Scout, who let out a dreamy sigh.
"What a girl. She even gave me ham on rye with swiss!" Scout said.
"She's real serious, that one," Sniper said.
"Indeed," Spy said.
Demoman shook his head. "Talk about pokin' the dragon. Ye think ye can handle a lassie like that?" Demoman said.
"I been handlin' her just fine," Scout said. "And plenty, too."
Demoman laughed. "Ye know, the minute ye wink at another girl, she'll shank ye in the showers."
"Gimme a break! You date a girl like that and other girls don't even exist," Scout said.
"They'd better if ye want to live," Demoman said.
Miss Pauling reappeared at the door. It was like a single flinch went through the men--save for Scout, who was too busy eating.
"And one more thing--Medic, heal him already. No denying healing because you feel like it, or because you got tired of him suggesting where dispensers should go."
Medic muttered something in German and pulled out his medigun. A brilliant light covered him.
Scout's bruises all quickly disappeared, but his smile didn't.
Saxton Hale burst out laughing. "She reminds me of Helen, when she was younger. Not surprising, considering. Like mother, like daughter, as they say."
"Before ye know it, she'll be the one yellin' at us over the speakers," Demoman said.
"God, I can't wait," Scout said. "Just think, I'd get to hear her all day talkin' about how great I am over the loudspeakers. She'd get to watch every move, and mention how great it was how I saved the day. It'd be all 'and it's my handsome husband here, takin' that briefcase full of papers nobody gives a shit about to the other side! He shoots, he scores, and gets a million dollars for it--and more importantly, a kiss! Now we're in overtime so he can go get his kiss!"
"Keep dreamin', laddie," Demoman said.
"Oh, I will. Trust me," Scout said.
He finished the last bite of his sandwich and headed out. But before he walked through the door--or the jagged hole in the wall which could be used as a door--Scout smugly looked back at his coworkers. "Well, fellas, I'm off to be awesome. I'm goin' to have so much time not bein' slapped or strangled, and havin' my bones broken in fifty places that maybe I'll take up tapdancin'! When Miss Pauling is your girlfriend, anythin' is possible. Even not being punched!"
With a laugh, he ran off.
*
The next day, pictures of Scout were taped to the punching bags inside the gym. Gym participation went up, and so did buying gym equipment. Especially punching bags, which had a habit of not being burnt, cut into pieces, and shot.
The other newest installation were a rather Orwellian poster set, with a picture of Miss Pauling and a caption of Remember, I'm Always Watching You.
Just in case they forgot.
By the end of the week, they were marked up with little hearts in the empty space, and Miss Pauling is the greatest, so is Scout, we're great together scribbled in the margin.
