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fic: I Tried To Do Handstands For You
Title: I Tried To Do Handstands For You
Series: TF2
Character/pairing: Scout/Miss Pauling, ensemble, (Heavy/Medic)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 3,550
Summary: When Miss Pauling helps dress the wounds of the men after a slew of injuries hits the base, Scout is determined to spend as much time with her as possible, even if it means taking drastic (and painful) measures.
Author's note: canon-typical violence. Not associated with any current timeline, or whatever, not even Expiration Date. Title from Bruises by Chairlift.
For Saaaarah. Canon-typical violence.
I tried to do handstands for you
every time I fell on you
every time I fell
I tried to do handstands for you
but every time I fell for you
I'm permanently black and blue
permanently blue for you
-Bruises, Chairlift
I'd throw myself right off a bridge just to catch your eye.
-Hope You Do, Cinders
Scout let out a ear-piercing shriek as he fell off the fucking roof again. The ground hit like a motherfucker, and as he pushed himself up, his arm flopped uselessly to his side. He could even see bone sticking through his arm. The sand and grit was stained red with blood, and for once, it was his. With a slew of curses that would've made his ma proud (she was that kind of ma) he pushed himself up.
Great, just what he needed today.
But, he reminded himself, it could be worse. Doc would have him fixed up in a few minutes tops, and hopefully he'd come out with all his organs intact and no birds left in them.
An explosion rocked some of the buildings in the distance. Scout ducked as the shrapnel and flaming debris flew through the air.
He didn't have to guess, because that laughter and screams about freedom really told all.
"Looks like I won't be the only one payin' a visit to Doc," Scout muttered to himself.
*
Things Scout expected to see in Doc's infirmary:
Birds.
Bird shit.
Zombies in cages forced to fight.
Dead bodies in various states of being cut into pieces.
Heavy, wearing no clothes for some probably Russian reason.
Soldier wearing no clothes, but for different reasons than Heavy. (Because he never fucking put clothes on in the first place.)
Toxic gas that killed him and others.
Creepy shit pickled in jars.
Stolen equipment.
Stolen birds.
A giant laser that healed people via magic science.
More birds.
Suspiciously bloody lab coats and gloves.
More birds.
What Scout actually saw in her office: all of the above, but that didn't matter, because the one person he didn't expect to see, that curvy purple-wearing goddess herself was there, with a bandage in hand, and an utterly adorable exasperated expression on her face.
"Miss Pauling, what are you doing here?"
She turned around, and the look of exasperation turned into one of surprise.
"We've had an upswing of injuries. I needed to help out..." She grimaced when she caught sight of his arm.
"Scout, what the hell happened? Who the hell did this?"
"Fell off a roof," Scout said.
"...What were you doing on the roof?"
"Runnin' around like a superhero and bein' awesome," Scout said.
She let out a sigh. "Of course. I should've known."
She reached out for his arm, and Scout's heart raced, his pain entirely forgotten. But then she drew back, much to his disappointment.
"Medic, I'll need your input for this," she said.
"Just cut it off," he said absently.
"Medic," she said between gritted teeth.
Medic looked heavenwards. He had been rubbing oil (healing oil?) on Heavy's naked chest, though Scout didn't know why, the big guy looked just fine.
"Fine."
She held his arm steady, and Scout's heart felt like it did when he was running, that same rush of adrenaline and good feelings. Just one touch and he had a runner's high to kill for.
She gave him a slight smile as he glanced towards her.
Some kind of stiff thing was put over his arm, and then that magic fixer ray was aimed right at him. Scout was always kind of surprised when it didn't hurt. It looked like something out of a James Bond movie, which was fitting as Medic was like a lost Bond villain, or at least one of their henchmen.
"There, all better. Now stop your baby crying make room for the next idiot," Medic said. He sounded a whole lot like Heavy when he said it that way. And Scout hadn't even been crying. Who would, when there was Miss Pauling to patch him up?
"Aye, heeere!"
Behind him, Demoman was in line. Or what was left of him. He was in surprisingly good spirits, considering that he was barely limping in with swiss-cheese like holes in his chest, and barely alive.
"For the record, I am a magnificent idiot!"
Before Scout could even make a protest, Medic was pushed out of the way.
"B-but, wait! Miss Pauling, where are you headed after this?"
"With the way you idiots keep getting yourselves hurt, we'll probably be fixing up your boo-boos all day," Medic said.
"Medic's right. Now there's something I don't say very often. But with all the damage that Soldier and Demoman just did, I'll probably be busy cleaning up their messes until dawn. I don't think I'll even get any time to sleep. Ah well, at least coffee exists."
Demoman let out an uproarious laugh. "What a big boom!"
Soldier chimed in with, "For America!!!"
"Hold still, you two. Unless you simply want to let death take its course," Medic said sharply.
"Death can't take me, I've got to take down the loch ness monster!"
Scout numbly headed out. Just outside that door, Engie was doing Engie things. Beating on a scorched wall with his hammer to somehow fix it. You know, typical magic Engie stuff.
He'd been so close, and then the rest of the mercenaries had to go in and ruin it. And they weren't even into Miss Pauling---and he thanked God for it every day. Hell, some of them seemed kind of more into each other.
Scout didn't care; it meant less people to fight for Miss Pauling's attention.
As he watched, a plan started to form in Scout's head. He jogged over closer to Engie's machines. A dangerous place to be, but Scout drank danger and shit courage and pissed coolness, so it was no biggie.
Engie was smudged up with oil from work, and with dusty overalls. He didn't glance up from his work as Scout came closer. Or at least, Scout guessed he wasn't looking. Maybe his goggles let him have x-ray vision, like Superman.
"Hey, Engie. Lemme have that that for a minute."
"For the last time, boy. You don't know the best place for the dispensers. I got two college degrees in placin' dispensers, I'd know."
"Ain't about dispensers. Just lemme have it for a minute, okay? It's an emergency."
His brow furrowed. "I ain't heard anythin'. What kind of emergency would require use usin' my wrench ...would I even want to know?"
"Probably not."
But, in the end, Engie handed to him.
"You break it, you're payin' for it."
"Don't worry, this'll only take a sec," Scout said.
Scout took a long breath. It would hurt like a bitch. But only for a minute or two, and he'd get to see Miss Pauling again.
And that'd be worth any amount of pain.
Scout lifted up that wrench and slammed it down. The huge wave of pain that filled him, and a series of fucks slipped out, completely on reflex. But that wasn't enough, he slammed that wrench down again and again until blood seeped through his wraps.
"Now why'd you go and do that for, you dadgum fool? What kind of emergency bullshit is this? Now get your stupid ass in there and go see Medic."
Scout smirked through the pain. "Nah, I got one better. I'll get fixed up by Miss Pauling. That's the emergency. And for the record, my ass is fantastic."
Engineer shook his head. "You ain't right, son."
"If smackin' myself with a wrench to get a big enough injury to have a whole few minutes with Miss Pauling is wrong, then I don't ever wanna be right."
To be fair, in the scale of things he'd done, it was pretty small. He wouldn't be going to hell for doing some stupid shit and getting himself hurt, even though his ma made him think that giving her gray hairs doing dumbass things like running around on the roof and trying to be a superhero (again) was some kind mortal sin.
Definitely below murder, at least.
*
Miss Pauling's green eyes widened, and her glasses slid down her nose as she caught sight of him. Blood had left her clothes looking almost tie-dyed. Scout was half surprised that Soldier didn't burst in here and accuse her of being a hippie.
"Scout, what happened? You were just in here two seconds ago."
Scout proudly held up his bloodied hand, like it was some kind of great achievement.
"Oh, jeez. You told Engineer that you wanted a dispenser there, didn't you?" she said.
"Nah, I tripped and fell. Tripped and fell into his wrench eight times," Scout said.
She carefully lifted his arm, with a gentle touch for such bloody hands. She left a handprint mark with someone else's blood--except this time, that person probably wasn't dead.
"You're pretty good at this nurse stuff, Miss P," Scout said.
"Thanks," she said.
She looked past him, which caused Scout a whole lot of discomfort, because every time Miss Pauling wasn't paying attention to him, it felt like an ache, or a really bad case of jock itch. Except, like in his heart.
"Medic, I'll take care of this," she said.
Soldier had left by then, but Demoman was still there, and now Sniper was in the chair beside him. Scout couldn't tell if he'd come to just offer moral support, or was next in line in Medic's room of terrors and pain.
"What have I got, doc?" Scout said, mimicking some line he'd seen on the shown.
"A chronic case of Dummkopf-itis. For you, there is no cure," Medic said.
"Damn right," Demoman said.
"You say that, but look where I am, eh? Eh?" Scout smirked.
More like a fucking genius, because he had Miss Pauling herself, doing all kinds of hot nurse things.
First, she undid his wraps in a surprisingly intimate and gentle way. She grabbed a bottle of that Australium healing gel and poured it over his hand. The bones reset themselves, until he was even more handsome than before. And he hadn't even thought that possible.
Then, she left her hand on his just a second too long, before tapping him on the knuckles softly.
"There, good as new. Well, almost," she said, and gave him a smile.
"If you'd just let me kill him, then he would come out of Respawn good as new," Medic said.
"Not a chance," Miss Pauling said.
She gave him another little smile and it was like his whole world tilted. All he could do was give her a wordless thumbs up, because he was so tongue-tied. Scout stumbled breathlessly back outside.
This was just unfair. How was he supposed to form words with Miss Pauling right there?
Obviously, Scout was on the right track, because Miss Pauling had held his hand twice today. He'd daydreamed of this moment for so damn long, and she was even clothed in them, honest. Okay, mostly clothed. Kind of clothed. Sort of clothed. Maybe some of them were on the floor, but anyways the point is he'd been basically a gentleman.
First rule: He couldn't go overboard. Miss Pauling couldn't kiss his boo boos if he threw himself into a woodchipper. Besides, 1) Miss Pauling already had a bunch of bodies for there, and 2) she wouldn't appreciate Scout getting himself killed like that and having her more bodies to clean up.
(Scout liked to think that she wouldn't wanna see his dead body, period. Hopeful? Maybe.)
The walls might've been closing in, but they were pretty damn hard, and full of sharp edges. And to Scout, that was a world of possibility.
Scout ran as fast as he could straight into a steel wall.
He bounced off, and ended up on the ground. No broken bones or anything. He let out a sigh of disgust. He really should've picked a sharper wall to fling himself at. Engie really needed to invent a machine to hurt him, but not enough to actually kill him. Enough that he got to have that minute and a half of flirting with Miss Pauling as she put a band-aid on him, but not enough that he ended up in Repsawn.
Maybe Engie would like that too much.
He belt burning pain as he stood up. With a burst of joy, he realized he'd managed to skin his elbow in the fall. Scout took off in a run back towards the infirmary.
*
Miss Pauling had a sharpie in hand. it has been ____ seconds since someone has been injured... Scout took a sharp intake of breath at the sight of her. She was like a punch in the gut, like having the breath knocked out of him, but without the pain.
Okay, there was some pain. Like the fact that she wasn't dating him. Though at least, she didn't seem to be dating anybody else. If anything, she seemed to be married to her work, but Scout knew he could kick her work's ass to the curb. Could her work do that thing he did with his tongue? Check and fucking mate.
"Dammit, Scout, we almost made five seconds," Miss Pauling said.
"That ain't the last time she'll be sayin' that with you, laddie boy," Demoman said.
Sniper sat near him, and broke into a cough. He ended up spewing out yellow liquid he'd been drinking. Scout just hoped it was lemonade.
"Damn, mate. Don't make me laugh like that when I'm drinkin'," Sniper said.
Scout couldn't stop smiling as he showed off his elbow.
"Medic, take care of Demo, I've got this."
She poured peroxide over his scrape. It stung, a little, but he'd felt way worse. She started to wrap a bit of gauze around his elbow, and Scout couldn't help but be amazed that she was actually touching him. All the pain was forgotten in the warmth of her fingers. His mind was racing. He was running out of time.
"Uh, Miss Pauling---"
She glanced up. "Yes?"
"Do you want to--I mean, maybe, sometime..."
"Yes...?"
From across the room, Demoman bellowed, "Just spit it out, lad!"
"Ah, I mean--Miss Pauling...do you... like....bread?"
She lifted one eyebrow. "I guess. Doesn't everyone?"
Scout felt like he'd slammed his head against the wall. Which was exactly what he wanted to do in that moment. Stupid! Stupid! How the hell did he flub so hard and ask her if she liked bread? Of course Miss Pauling liked bread! She wasn't a communist!
"There, you're all good for probably the next ten minutes until you hurt yourself again," she said.
"As if he'd last ten minutes," Sniper muttered. Demoman burst into such fierce laughter that he nearly fell off the gurney.
"I guess he's really into carbs," Miss Pauling said under her breath. She sounded a little disappointed, even.
He'd blown it, he'd really freaking blown it. She'd been way too close and he just couldn't focus. Not with those gorgeous green eyes looking at him, like she could see his soul and know that he'd had multiple wet dreams about Wonder Woman.
If he left, maybe she'd have some emergency killing to do and leave. He'd completely miss his chance. Lucky for him, Doc's office was full of sharp stuff. He could save this, he could get himself another chance with her. Scout took a quick glance around. Weird jars full of stuff? Nah, Medic really would kill him then. Insinuating that communism wasn't actually so bad around Soldier? Nah, Soldier would have his neck snapped before someone could say "the Yankees fuckin' suck." Plus, Soldier had fucked off somewhere else, either to kill communists (or anyone wearing red) and/or hippies or to go dumpster diving.
However, Soldier had left his shovel right there in the walkway. Perfect. Scout stomped hard on on the spade, and the shovel slammed into his face, just like a rake in a cartoon.
Demoman burst into more laughter.
"Bloody hell, mate," Sniper said.
"Ach, ye are killin' me, laddie boy!"
Which was appropriate, because his mouth was bloody as hell.
"Are you kidding me, Scout?" Miss Pauling said.
She grabbed a cloth from one of the medical trays and started to mop up his mouth. It hurt like hell (and he'd been there, and gotten the commemorative hat) but here she was, touching his mouth. And that was kind of like heaven. Not that he'd been there lately.
When she pulled away the cloth, everything he'd wanted to say came out in one long breath.
"You could kiss it better, or even better, kiss it better over dinner--" It all came out super fast, a blur, like he'd downed a carton of BONK all at once.
She dropped the cloth on the floor. Her glasses fell down her nose. A blush came in across her cheeks.
"Ach, the laddie boy finally had enough stones to ask her out."
Miss Pauling reached out and pulled the separating curtain about them.
"Oooh, makin' out in the doctor's office! The lass has some nerve!"
Miss Pauling ignored their comments. "How many other girls have you used that on?" she said coolly.
It all came out in an incoherent stream. "Look I like you and I like you like I don't like anyone else and I ain't ever used that one on anybody else and I don't really wanna because I just wanna use lines on you. I'd keep jumpin' off of roofs if it meant that I got to spend two seconds with you because those are the best two seconds of my day. You need proof? Point to a roof and I'll go flyin'."
"That's not necessary," Miss Pauling cut him off.
She turned away, and picked up a dark bottle of peroxide. It wasn't fast enough that she hid her blush, though.
"I'd kill to go on a date, but I work 364 days a year."
"Waitin' a year ain't nothin' compared to that." He pointed to his lips. "And that ain' nothin' compared to bein' blown up, and bein' blown up ain't nothin' compared to that kick-in-the-balls feelin' when you walk away every time I see you and you ain't my gal yet. It just kills me every single time. Not literally, though."
She glanced back at him skeptically. "Really, Scout. You'd be willing to wait an entire year? You get impatient when you have to wait ten minutes for food," she said.
"Yeah, who doesn't? Shitty service is the worst, I paid for that chicken, and I shouldn't have to friggin' wait!"
"Uh-huh."
"Look, look, you ain't the same as a bucket of chicken. Both delicious and tasty, though--"
She blushed even deeper at that.
She wrung out the cloth, and let out a sigh.
"If I said maybe I like you too, what would you say?"
"That you have a case of chronic Dummkopf-itis as well, and poor taste to boot," Medic cut in.
"Nobody friggin' asked! For the record, Miss Pauling can read. She ain't no dummy!"
"Oho, being able to read. Ja, how utterly remarkable. In how many languages, hmm?" Medic said.
"Five," Miss Pauling said flatly.
Scout had to catch his breath at that. Five whole languages? He had a hard time sitting still long enough to read the one. Dang, Miss Pauling was even hotter than he thought.
"I mean, we could always hang out after work. Grab a bite. I'm sure we can find some seconds. Even if I gotta break an arm to do it."
"Skip that part, I don't exactly like seeing you get hurt. Even though it's my job and I have to watch you get pulverized daily in increasingly violent ways, half the time by your own team," she said.
"It happens," Sniper said.
"Okay, no arms broken, and instead I bring you breakfast. I'm fast enough, I can find time in the day to spend with you. Even if I gotta kill somebody."
"It's probably a stupid idea, but you'd done things far more stupid," Miss Pauling said.
"See! Lookin' on the bright side!" Scout said.
She leaned in, and Scout's thoughts went wild. Wow! Miss Pauling kissing me? Is it an earthquake? Did I get superpowers? Holy crap, this feels amazing!
He pulled her a little closer, and could feel the curves of her chest against him. He let out a low groan. God, he couldn't even look at other women, not in a world wher Miss Pauling existed.
"I have to get back to work," she said softly, even regretfully. She kept staring at his lips.
"One more for the road?" Scout said.
"One more for the road," she echoed. She leaned in until the world was just him and her and all his dreams coming true and bursting out like fireworks behind his eyes.
Series: TF2
Character/pairing: Scout/Miss Pauling, ensemble, (Heavy/Medic)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 3,550
Summary: When Miss Pauling helps dress the wounds of the men after a slew of injuries hits the base, Scout is determined to spend as much time with her as possible, even if it means taking drastic (and painful) measures.
Author's note: canon-typical violence. Not associated with any current timeline, or whatever, not even Expiration Date. Title from Bruises by Chairlift.
For Saaaarah. Canon-typical violence.
I tried to do handstands for you
every time I fell on you
every time I fell
I tried to do handstands for you
but every time I fell for you
I'm permanently black and blue
permanently blue for you
-Bruises, Chairlift
I'd throw myself right off a bridge just to catch your eye.
-Hope You Do, Cinders
Scout let out a ear-piercing shriek as he fell off the fucking roof again. The ground hit like a motherfucker, and as he pushed himself up, his arm flopped uselessly to his side. He could even see bone sticking through his arm. The sand and grit was stained red with blood, and for once, it was his. With a slew of curses that would've made his ma proud (she was that kind of ma) he pushed himself up.
Great, just what he needed today.
But, he reminded himself, it could be worse. Doc would have him fixed up in a few minutes tops, and hopefully he'd come out with all his organs intact and no birds left in them.
An explosion rocked some of the buildings in the distance. Scout ducked as the shrapnel and flaming debris flew through the air.
He didn't have to guess, because that laughter and screams about freedom really told all.
"Looks like I won't be the only one payin' a visit to Doc," Scout muttered to himself.
*
Things Scout expected to see in Doc's infirmary:
Birds.
Bird shit.
Zombies in cages forced to fight.
Dead bodies in various states of being cut into pieces.
Heavy, wearing no clothes for some probably Russian reason.
Soldier wearing no clothes, but for different reasons than Heavy. (Because he never fucking put clothes on in the first place.)
Toxic gas that killed him and others.
Creepy shit pickled in jars.
Stolen equipment.
Stolen birds.
A giant laser that healed people via magic science.
More birds.
Suspiciously bloody lab coats and gloves.
More birds.
What Scout actually saw in her office: all of the above, but that didn't matter, because the one person he didn't expect to see, that curvy purple-wearing goddess herself was there, with a bandage in hand, and an utterly adorable exasperated expression on her face.
"Miss Pauling, what are you doing here?"
She turned around, and the look of exasperation turned into one of surprise.
"We've had an upswing of injuries. I needed to help out..." She grimaced when she caught sight of his arm.
"Scout, what the hell happened? Who the hell did this?"
"Fell off a roof," Scout said.
"...What were you doing on the roof?"
"Runnin' around like a superhero and bein' awesome," Scout said.
She let out a sigh. "Of course. I should've known."
She reached out for his arm, and Scout's heart raced, his pain entirely forgotten. But then she drew back, much to his disappointment.
"Medic, I'll need your input for this," she said.
"Just cut it off," he said absently.
"Medic," she said between gritted teeth.
Medic looked heavenwards. He had been rubbing oil (healing oil?) on Heavy's naked chest, though Scout didn't know why, the big guy looked just fine.
"Fine."
She held his arm steady, and Scout's heart felt like it did when he was running, that same rush of adrenaline and good feelings. Just one touch and he had a runner's high to kill for.
She gave him a slight smile as he glanced towards her.
Some kind of stiff thing was put over his arm, and then that magic fixer ray was aimed right at him. Scout was always kind of surprised when it didn't hurt. It looked like something out of a James Bond movie, which was fitting as Medic was like a lost Bond villain, or at least one of their henchmen.
"There, all better. Now stop your baby crying make room for the next idiot," Medic said. He sounded a whole lot like Heavy when he said it that way. And Scout hadn't even been crying. Who would, when there was Miss Pauling to patch him up?
"Aye, heeere!"
Behind him, Demoman was in line. Or what was left of him. He was in surprisingly good spirits, considering that he was barely limping in with swiss-cheese like holes in his chest, and barely alive.
"For the record, I am a magnificent idiot!"
Before Scout could even make a protest, Medic was pushed out of the way.
"B-but, wait! Miss Pauling, where are you headed after this?"
"With the way you idiots keep getting yourselves hurt, we'll probably be fixing up your boo-boos all day," Medic said.
"Medic's right. Now there's something I don't say very often. But with all the damage that Soldier and Demoman just did, I'll probably be busy cleaning up their messes until dawn. I don't think I'll even get any time to sleep. Ah well, at least coffee exists."
Demoman let out an uproarious laugh. "What a big boom!"
Soldier chimed in with, "For America!!!"
"Hold still, you two. Unless you simply want to let death take its course," Medic said sharply.
"Death can't take me, I've got to take down the loch ness monster!"
Scout numbly headed out. Just outside that door, Engie was doing Engie things. Beating on a scorched wall with his hammer to somehow fix it. You know, typical magic Engie stuff.
He'd been so close, and then the rest of the mercenaries had to go in and ruin it. And they weren't even into Miss Pauling---and he thanked God for it every day. Hell, some of them seemed kind of more into each other.
Scout didn't care; it meant less people to fight for Miss Pauling's attention.
As he watched, a plan started to form in Scout's head. He jogged over closer to Engie's machines. A dangerous place to be, but Scout drank danger and shit courage and pissed coolness, so it was no biggie.
Engie was smudged up with oil from work, and with dusty overalls. He didn't glance up from his work as Scout came closer. Or at least, Scout guessed he wasn't looking. Maybe his goggles let him have x-ray vision, like Superman.
"Hey, Engie. Lemme have that that for a minute."
"For the last time, boy. You don't know the best place for the dispensers. I got two college degrees in placin' dispensers, I'd know."
"Ain't about dispensers. Just lemme have it for a minute, okay? It's an emergency."
His brow furrowed. "I ain't heard anythin'. What kind of emergency would require use usin' my wrench ...would I even want to know?"
"Probably not."
But, in the end, Engie handed to him.
"You break it, you're payin' for it."
"Don't worry, this'll only take a sec," Scout said.
Scout took a long breath. It would hurt like a bitch. But only for a minute or two, and he'd get to see Miss Pauling again.
And that'd be worth any amount of pain.
Scout lifted up that wrench and slammed it down. The huge wave of pain that filled him, and a series of fucks slipped out, completely on reflex. But that wasn't enough, he slammed that wrench down again and again until blood seeped through his wraps.
"Now why'd you go and do that for, you dadgum fool? What kind of emergency bullshit is this? Now get your stupid ass in there and go see Medic."
Scout smirked through the pain. "Nah, I got one better. I'll get fixed up by Miss Pauling. That's the emergency. And for the record, my ass is fantastic."
Engineer shook his head. "You ain't right, son."
"If smackin' myself with a wrench to get a big enough injury to have a whole few minutes with Miss Pauling is wrong, then I don't ever wanna be right."
To be fair, in the scale of things he'd done, it was pretty small. He wouldn't be going to hell for doing some stupid shit and getting himself hurt, even though his ma made him think that giving her gray hairs doing dumbass things like running around on the roof and trying to be a superhero (again) was some kind mortal sin.
Definitely below murder, at least.
*
Miss Pauling's green eyes widened, and her glasses slid down her nose as she caught sight of him. Blood had left her clothes looking almost tie-dyed. Scout was half surprised that Soldier didn't burst in here and accuse her of being a hippie.
"Scout, what happened? You were just in here two seconds ago."
Scout proudly held up his bloodied hand, like it was some kind of great achievement.
"Oh, jeez. You told Engineer that you wanted a dispenser there, didn't you?" she said.
"Nah, I tripped and fell. Tripped and fell into his wrench eight times," Scout said.
She carefully lifted his arm, with a gentle touch for such bloody hands. She left a handprint mark with someone else's blood--except this time, that person probably wasn't dead.
"You're pretty good at this nurse stuff, Miss P," Scout said.
"Thanks," she said.
She looked past him, which caused Scout a whole lot of discomfort, because every time Miss Pauling wasn't paying attention to him, it felt like an ache, or a really bad case of jock itch. Except, like in his heart.
"Medic, I'll take care of this," she said.
Soldier had left by then, but Demoman was still there, and now Sniper was in the chair beside him. Scout couldn't tell if he'd come to just offer moral support, or was next in line in Medic's room of terrors and pain.
"What have I got, doc?" Scout said, mimicking some line he'd seen on the shown.
"A chronic case of Dummkopf-itis. For you, there is no cure," Medic said.
"Damn right," Demoman said.
"You say that, but look where I am, eh? Eh?" Scout smirked.
More like a fucking genius, because he had Miss Pauling herself, doing all kinds of hot nurse things.
First, she undid his wraps in a surprisingly intimate and gentle way. She grabbed a bottle of that Australium healing gel and poured it over his hand. The bones reset themselves, until he was even more handsome than before. And he hadn't even thought that possible.
Then, she left her hand on his just a second too long, before tapping him on the knuckles softly.
"There, good as new. Well, almost," she said, and gave him a smile.
"If you'd just let me kill him, then he would come out of Respawn good as new," Medic said.
"Not a chance," Miss Pauling said.
She gave him another little smile and it was like his whole world tilted. All he could do was give her a wordless thumbs up, because he was so tongue-tied. Scout stumbled breathlessly back outside.
This was just unfair. How was he supposed to form words with Miss Pauling right there?
Obviously, Scout was on the right track, because Miss Pauling had held his hand twice today. He'd daydreamed of this moment for so damn long, and she was even clothed in them, honest. Okay, mostly clothed. Kind of clothed. Sort of clothed. Maybe some of them were on the floor, but anyways the point is he'd been basically a gentleman.
First rule: He couldn't go overboard. Miss Pauling couldn't kiss his boo boos if he threw himself into a woodchipper. Besides, 1) Miss Pauling already had a bunch of bodies for there, and 2) she wouldn't appreciate Scout getting himself killed like that and having her more bodies to clean up.
(Scout liked to think that she wouldn't wanna see his dead body, period. Hopeful? Maybe.)
The walls might've been closing in, but they were pretty damn hard, and full of sharp edges. And to Scout, that was a world of possibility.
Scout ran as fast as he could straight into a steel wall.
He bounced off, and ended up on the ground. No broken bones or anything. He let out a sigh of disgust. He really should've picked a sharper wall to fling himself at. Engie really needed to invent a machine to hurt him, but not enough to actually kill him. Enough that he got to have that minute and a half of flirting with Miss Pauling as she put a band-aid on him, but not enough that he ended up in Repsawn.
Maybe Engie would like that too much.
He belt burning pain as he stood up. With a burst of joy, he realized he'd managed to skin his elbow in the fall. Scout took off in a run back towards the infirmary.
*
Miss Pauling had a sharpie in hand. it has been ____ seconds since someone has been injured... Scout took a sharp intake of breath at the sight of her. She was like a punch in the gut, like having the breath knocked out of him, but without the pain.
Okay, there was some pain. Like the fact that she wasn't dating him. Though at least, she didn't seem to be dating anybody else. If anything, she seemed to be married to her work, but Scout knew he could kick her work's ass to the curb. Could her work do that thing he did with his tongue? Check and fucking mate.
"Dammit, Scout, we almost made five seconds," Miss Pauling said.
"That ain't the last time she'll be sayin' that with you, laddie boy," Demoman said.
Sniper sat near him, and broke into a cough. He ended up spewing out yellow liquid he'd been drinking. Scout just hoped it was lemonade.
"Damn, mate. Don't make me laugh like that when I'm drinkin'," Sniper said.
Scout couldn't stop smiling as he showed off his elbow.
"Medic, take care of Demo, I've got this."
She poured peroxide over his scrape. It stung, a little, but he'd felt way worse. She started to wrap a bit of gauze around his elbow, and Scout couldn't help but be amazed that she was actually touching him. All the pain was forgotten in the warmth of her fingers. His mind was racing. He was running out of time.
"Uh, Miss Pauling---"
She glanced up. "Yes?"
"Do you want to--I mean, maybe, sometime..."
"Yes...?"
From across the room, Demoman bellowed, "Just spit it out, lad!"
"Ah, I mean--Miss Pauling...do you... like....bread?"
She lifted one eyebrow. "I guess. Doesn't everyone?"
Scout felt like he'd slammed his head against the wall. Which was exactly what he wanted to do in that moment. Stupid! Stupid! How the hell did he flub so hard and ask her if she liked bread? Of course Miss Pauling liked bread! She wasn't a communist!
"There, you're all good for probably the next ten minutes until you hurt yourself again," she said.
"As if he'd last ten minutes," Sniper muttered. Demoman burst into such fierce laughter that he nearly fell off the gurney.
"I guess he's really into carbs," Miss Pauling said under her breath. She sounded a little disappointed, even.
He'd blown it, he'd really freaking blown it. She'd been way too close and he just couldn't focus. Not with those gorgeous green eyes looking at him, like she could see his soul and know that he'd had multiple wet dreams about Wonder Woman.
If he left, maybe she'd have some emergency killing to do and leave. He'd completely miss his chance. Lucky for him, Doc's office was full of sharp stuff. He could save this, he could get himself another chance with her. Scout took a quick glance around. Weird jars full of stuff? Nah, Medic really would kill him then. Insinuating that communism wasn't actually so bad around Soldier? Nah, Soldier would have his neck snapped before someone could say "the Yankees fuckin' suck." Plus, Soldier had fucked off somewhere else, either to kill communists (or anyone wearing red) and/or hippies or to go dumpster diving.
However, Soldier had left his shovel right there in the walkway. Perfect. Scout stomped hard on on the spade, and the shovel slammed into his face, just like a rake in a cartoon.
Demoman burst into more laughter.
"Bloody hell, mate," Sniper said.
"Ach, ye are killin' me, laddie boy!"
Which was appropriate, because his mouth was bloody as hell.
"Are you kidding me, Scout?" Miss Pauling said.
She grabbed a cloth from one of the medical trays and started to mop up his mouth. It hurt like hell (and he'd been there, and gotten the commemorative hat) but here she was, touching his mouth. And that was kind of like heaven. Not that he'd been there lately.
When she pulled away the cloth, everything he'd wanted to say came out in one long breath.
"You could kiss it better, or even better, kiss it better over dinner--" It all came out super fast, a blur, like he'd downed a carton of BONK all at once.
She dropped the cloth on the floor. Her glasses fell down her nose. A blush came in across her cheeks.
"Ach, the laddie boy finally had enough stones to ask her out."
Miss Pauling reached out and pulled the separating curtain about them.
"Oooh, makin' out in the doctor's office! The lass has some nerve!"
Miss Pauling ignored their comments. "How many other girls have you used that on?" she said coolly.
It all came out in an incoherent stream. "Look I like you and I like you like I don't like anyone else and I ain't ever used that one on anybody else and I don't really wanna because I just wanna use lines on you. I'd keep jumpin' off of roofs if it meant that I got to spend two seconds with you because those are the best two seconds of my day. You need proof? Point to a roof and I'll go flyin'."
"That's not necessary," Miss Pauling cut him off.
She turned away, and picked up a dark bottle of peroxide. It wasn't fast enough that she hid her blush, though.
"I'd kill to go on a date, but I work 364 days a year."
"Waitin' a year ain't nothin' compared to that." He pointed to his lips. "And that ain' nothin' compared to bein' blown up, and bein' blown up ain't nothin' compared to that kick-in-the-balls feelin' when you walk away every time I see you and you ain't my gal yet. It just kills me every single time. Not literally, though."
She glanced back at him skeptically. "Really, Scout. You'd be willing to wait an entire year? You get impatient when you have to wait ten minutes for food," she said.
"Yeah, who doesn't? Shitty service is the worst, I paid for that chicken, and I shouldn't have to friggin' wait!"
"Uh-huh."
"Look, look, you ain't the same as a bucket of chicken. Both delicious and tasty, though--"
She blushed even deeper at that.
She wrung out the cloth, and let out a sigh.
"If I said maybe I like you too, what would you say?"
"That you have a case of chronic Dummkopf-itis as well, and poor taste to boot," Medic cut in.
"Nobody friggin' asked! For the record, Miss Pauling can read. She ain't no dummy!"
"Oho, being able to read. Ja, how utterly remarkable. In how many languages, hmm?" Medic said.
"Five," Miss Pauling said flatly.
Scout had to catch his breath at that. Five whole languages? He had a hard time sitting still long enough to read the one. Dang, Miss Pauling was even hotter than he thought.
"I mean, we could always hang out after work. Grab a bite. I'm sure we can find some seconds. Even if I gotta break an arm to do it."
"Skip that part, I don't exactly like seeing you get hurt. Even though it's my job and I have to watch you get pulverized daily in increasingly violent ways, half the time by your own team," she said.
"It happens," Sniper said.
"Okay, no arms broken, and instead I bring you breakfast. I'm fast enough, I can find time in the day to spend with you. Even if I gotta kill somebody."
"It's probably a stupid idea, but you'd done things far more stupid," Miss Pauling said.
"See! Lookin' on the bright side!" Scout said.
She leaned in, and Scout's thoughts went wild. Wow! Miss Pauling kissing me? Is it an earthquake? Did I get superpowers? Holy crap, this feels amazing!
He pulled her a little closer, and could feel the curves of her chest against him. He let out a low groan. God, he couldn't even look at other women, not in a world wher Miss Pauling existed.
"I have to get back to work," she said softly, even regretfully. She kept staring at his lips.
"One more for the road?" Scout said.
"One more for the road," she echoed. She leaned in until the world was just him and her and all his dreams coming true and bursting out like fireworks behind his eyes.