I would love to see some Princess Reader and Pyro interactions! A mix of plastic cups, priceless China, and stuffed animal attendees at a Tea party sounds so fun.
Maybe Spy or Olivia Mann could join too!
TF2 x Princess!Reader: Pyro’s Tea Time
“Thank you for accompanying me to my tea party, Pyro,” you said graciously to the masked mercenary beside you as the two of you climbed a small rocky hill overlooking the base. The “tea party” was honestly more of a picnic than anything else, but you found that the title made it feel all the more special.
You delicately lifted the hem of your ball gown so it wouldn’t drag across the dirt and scattered stones. Beside you, Pyro carried the picnic basket under one arm while several toys were tucked securely against their chest, determined to bring every important guest to the occasion.
“MHMM NROH MNNH!” Pyro muffled enthusiastically, giving you a gloved thumbs-up.
The gesture earned a soft giggle from you.
“I think we’re here!” you announced brightly.
You turned to admire the little hilltop clearing you had chosen earlier that morning. It was simple, rustic—far from elegant—but charming nonetheless. A few smooth rocks circled the area, and a dry, leafless tree stretched overhead, offering a patch of crooked shade against the afternoon sun.
It looked nothing like the royal gardens you used to wander through as a child, where marble fountains sparkled beneath the sunlight and roses climbed ivory trellises in endless rows. Yet somehow, this place still felt lovely in its own quiet way.
After all, you had always believed that company mattered far more than scenery.
And Pyro, strange as they could be, was delightful company.
Pyro let out an excited noise and immediately got to work assembling the picnic. They dramatically unfurled a horribly stitched blanket onto the ground with the sort of flourish one might use for unveiling royal carpets. The blanket landed crookedly over several rocks, but Pyro proudly smoothed it flat with both hands anyway.
Meanwhile, you lowered yourself gracefully onto the blanket, smoothing your dress beneath you out of sheer habit before beginning to unpack the tea set.
You had to admit, however, that this was perhaps the strangest tea set you had ever encountered.
Half of it consisted of cheap plastic toy cups decorated with faded flowers and smiling suns. The other half was unmistakably genuine porcelain china trimmed with gold accents delicate enough to belong in a noble household.
The plastic pieces were obviously from Pyro’s toy collection.
You glanced at the ornate teapot with mild concern.
You could only hope Pyro hadn’t stolen it from Spy’s personal cabinet.
Still, you pushed the thought aside and arranged the pieces with equal care and reverence. The pastel-colored sugar container sat neatly beside the elegant porcelain pot, mismatched yet somehow fitting together perfectly.
“There,” you said with a satisfied smile, adjusting the tray ever so slightly to the right. “Perfect.”
Pyro laughed delightedly, clapping their gloved hands together with childlike excitement.
The sound warmed your heart far more than you expected.
Soon enough, the two—or rather, four—of you began your little tea party properly. Pyro insisted that their two slightly charred unicorn plushies be included as honored guests, each receiving their own tiny plastic teacup.
With complete seriousness, you helped balance the cups carefully against the plushies’ blackened little stumps where their legs used to be.
Pyro looked utterly overjoyed by this. And honestly?
You elegantly took small, refined sips from your teacup—the same way you had been taught since childhood, so practiced and ingrained that you could likely do it with your eyes closed. Every movement was delicate, measured, and perfectly poised.
Pyro, on the other hand, seemed far less concerned with appearing proper.
They noisily slurped their tea through the mask while holding up their pinkie finger with complete confidence, as though that alone made them the picture of sophistication.
Honestly, it was oddly adorable.
You still had absolutely no idea how Pyro managed to consume food or drink through the gas mask in the first place. At one point, you had asked Engineer about it out of genuine curiosity, only for him to pat your shoulder and say, “Hunny, it’s best fer yer sanity if ya don’t think too hard ‘bout Pyro.”
“Pyro, this tea is spectacular!” you gasped happily, covering your smile with your gloved hand in a ladylike manner.
“Mh-hm! Mmss mhh mhahhomite!” Pyro replied proudly, their muffled voice practically radiating excitement.
“Well, you have excellent taste,” you complimented warmly.
Pyro immediately giggled in a strangely girlish manner, waving a hand bashfully as though embarrassed by the praise. Their shoulders hunched inward shyly, and for a terrifyingly brief moment, you forgot this was one of the most dangerous mercenaries on the planet.
“Glad to see zat my imported Dammann Frères is to your liking.”
The sharp French-accented voice nearly made you jump out of your skin.
You let out a startled gasp as Spy suddenly appeared seemingly out of nowhere behind the two of you, emerging from invisibility with all the subtlety of a ghost materializing from thin air. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, and even through the balaclava, his glare radiated disapproval.
“One zat you stole from my personal smoking room,” he added coldly.
“Sir Spy!” you squeaked, immediately scrambling to your feet. You hurriedly smoothed your skirts as though that alone might somehow salvage the situation. “P-Please forgive us! I had no idea!”
Pyro, unlike you, appeared entirely unconcerned about having been caught red-handed.
They simply shrugged and took another loud sip of tea.
“Forgive us, Sir Spy,” you apologized again, this time more softly. “We were merely trying to have a little fun.”
Spy’s gaze lingered on you for a long moment before drifting toward the picnic itself.
The charred unicorn plushies sitting silently with their tiny cups.
The ridiculousness of it all.
He exhaled deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose beneath the mask as though fighting off the beginnings of a headache.
“I expect a replacement package on my desk by tomorrow morning,” he finally grunted.
The moment he said it, your face instantly brightened with relief.
“Oh! Of course! Thank you, Sir Spy!” you said quickly. “Thank you very much!”
Knowing you were a princess with access to near-unlimited resources, Spy clearly understood that replacing the expensive imported tea would not be difficult for you in the slightest.
Spy merely gave a curt nod before turning to leave, likely intending to disappear back into the shadows from whence he came.
“W-Wait!” Your timid voice stopped him mid-step.
Spy paused and glanced over his shoulder just as you gently grasped the cuff of his suit sleeve between your gloved fingers.
He looked down at your hand, then back at you with a raised eyebrow.
“W-Well…” you murmured sheepishly, nervously fiddling with your thumbs. “It is a lovely afternoon. The weather is pleasant, and there are no missions scheduled for the next few hours…”
You glanced toward the picnic blanket. “Would you perhaps like to join us?”
“Excusez-moi?” Spy repeated, clearly caught off guard.
Beside you, Pyro immediately lit up with excitement.
“MHMHM!” they chirped eagerly, scooting over at once and patting the empty spot beside them insistently.
Spy stared at the offered seat. Then at the blanket. Then at the absurd collection of toys and teacups.
And finally at your hopeful expression.
Before eventually, Spy released the slow, defeated sigh of a man realizing he had somehow ended up in the strangest situation of his career.
“You will not speak of zis to anyone,” he warned sternly.
A delighted smile spread across your face. “You have my word, Sir Spy.”
Spy reached into his suit pocket and removed a neatly folded handkerchief, carefully placing it over the patch of ground Pyro had reserved for him. There was absolutely no universe in which he would allow his immaculate Louis Crabbemarché suit to touch the dusty desert floor directly.
Only then did he sit down stiffly beside Pyro.
With the utmost dignity possible, Spy picked up one of the tiny plastic toy teacups decorated with cartoon flowers and took an elegant sip. The contrast nearly made you laugh aloud.
Pyro seemed utterly thrilled by his participation, happily wiggling in place while one of the plush unicorns slowly tipped over face-first into the tea tray.
Neither of you had the heart to fix it.
And so, your little tea party continued peacefully atop the dusty hill.
Freshly baked cookies were passed around between guests—both real and stuffed alike—while the warm desert breeze lazily swept across the blanket. Pyro’s muffled laughter rang out every few minutes whenever one of their unicorn plushies “spoke” in a squeaky voice only they seemed capable of hearing, and although Spy repeatedly claimed the entire affair was ridiculous, he still remained seated beside the two of you the entire time.
Mostly beside the two of you.
At some point, Pyro had leaned over enough that their shoulder rested against Spy’s arm, much to the Frenchman’s visible annoyance.
Conversation flowed surprisingly easily after that. You spoke of pleasant things—favorite desserts, old stories from your childhood, and Pyro’s oddly passionate opinions regarding stuffed animals and the importance of proper tea party etiquette.
Apparently, according to Pyro, imaginary guests should always receive tea before real ones.
Spy had called this “absurd.”
Then proceeded to carefully refill one of the unicorn plushies’ cups anyway.
The sight nearly made your heart burst.
Time passed far quicker than you expected, and before long, the sun had begun dipping lower in the sky, painting the desert in warm shades of amber and gold.
Reluctantly, the three of you began packing everything away.
“I had so much fun today!” you exclaimed brightly, “We absolutely must do this again sometime.”
Pyro nodded eagerly beside you. “MHMHMHM!”
“I admit…” Spy began carefully, straightening his gloves with practiced precision, “it was… enjoyable.”
Pyro immediately snickered beneath their mask.
Spy shot them a sharp glare which made Pyro only giggled harder.
You couldn’t help letting out a soft laugh of your own.
Because for all of Spy’s attempts to appear aloof and above such childish activities, you had noticed it several times throughout the afternoon—the faint softness in his posture, the occasional amused twitch at the corner of his mouth, the subtle glimmer in his eyes whenever he thought neither of you were looking.
He truly had enjoyed himself.
And somehow, that made the entire afternoon feel even warmer.
Spy cleared his throat lightly, perhaps realizing he had revealed slightly more emotion than intended.
“I know of an excellent boulangerie,” he commented casually, though there was an unmistakable hint of fondness in his voice now. “Zey sell magnificent macarons.”
He adjusted the sleeves of his suit before adding, quieter this time:
“Perhaps I shall bring some next time.”
Your expression softened immediately.
“That would be lovely, Sir Spy,” you replied warmly.
For just a brief moment, Spy looked almost pleased by your answer.
Then, naturally, he ruined it by muttering: “Provided Pyro refrains from stealing my tea again.”
Pyro gasped dramatically, clutching the basket protectively as though deeply wounded by the accusation.
And together, the three of you began walking back toward the base beneath the golden evening sky.
