#monstrous intent

Scout - Faun (white-tail deer)

Scout's got antlers atop his head, slightly pointed ears, tapetum lucidum (eyeshine), and white-tail deer legs from the tops of his hips down, with a cute fluffy tail and all. Unlike actual white-tails however he has spots on his hips and upper thighs even though he's an adult. Because it's cute. He's a creature designed for hedonism, so he has a strong alcohol tolerance (as well as other substances though he hasn't tested that) and a ridiculous sex drive, as well as barely any refractory period. He can smell others' pheromones, and when sexually aroused most sensory input is greatly intensified. He can use magic naturally and can feel ambient magic in the air, but isn't particularly skilled at figuring it out on his own, so he requires instruction to learn spells.

Soldier - Boyfriends

Pyro - Friends, fucking regularly, in love with him

Demoman - Romantic friends, fucking regularly, in love with him

Heavy - Boyfriends

Engineer - Friends, fucking regularly, in love with him

Medic - Boyfriends

Sniper - Best friends, fucking regularly, in love with him

Spy - Boyfriends, though Spy has a lot of boundaries and he's learning to navigate them respectfully (and knows Spy is worth it)

Miss Pauling - Over her, after finding out there's not even a chance that he's in the running. Totally wants to be friends with her though so he can give her some advice on picking up chicks. (Dear God Scout No)

Soldier - (failed) Dullahan

Soldier naturally has no head and his neck ends not in a gory stump but an opening into a black abyss that seems to go on far outside the confines of his own body. (A fic I'll be beginning to publish on Halloween (because I wanted to have it done in time for then but ran outta time) will actually finally explain what it is.) Putting things into his neck/the abyss feels good, like penetration for Soldier. Touching the abyss with mucus membrane tissue (tongue, lips, genitals) feels good as well, kinda vibration-ey. Soldier is able to pass as human if he wears a head, taking a severed head and placing it atop his own neck, where his body seals it on and transforms it into his own head, and takes on signs of life. The head will rot while attached to him, however, so it needs to be changed every few days, unless he's wearing his Cephalophore's Collar given to him by Medic.

Scout - Boyfriends

Pyro - Friends, thinks he’s cute

BLU Demoman - Kinda distant friends. Used to be closer friends, but the whole RED Demoman made things awkward for a long time

RED Demoman - Exes. MESSY. Getting over him, but it's a process

Heavy - Friends

Engineer - Friends

Medic - Friends

Sniper - Friends, fucking occasionally

Spy - Friends

Pyro - Djinni

Djinn are made of smokeless flame, and Pyro takes that literally. He's got small horns on his forehead, glowing yellow eyes, white flames that mimic teeth, and long, dark, curls of fire that mimic hair. He breathes, eats, drinks, and sleeps, but does not expel waste. He still has a butthole because he can sculpt his own anatomy, and uses it for recreation. Tends to lose shape when he's overwhelmed or overstimulated. Has to focus on having genitals during sex or they'll disappear. Touching him feels like he's constantly in motion, even when he's standing perfectly still, and being engulfed in him is pleasant and comforting, but can ratchet up to an assault of pleasure on every part of the body if he's in the throes of pleasure as well. Sheds a minimal amount of light, and is feverish-warm to the touch, but can increase both his illumination and temperature to dangerous levels with effort. Ancient, older than humans as sapient creatures, and loves humans. Experienced and skilled in innate spellcasting, but isn't affected by transmutations because of how mutable his body is. Extremely skilled with conjuring and evoking.

Scout - Friends, fucking regularly, trying to figure out exactly how he feels

Soldier - Friends, developing a crush

Demoman - Friends, wants him to socialize more

Heavy - Friends, flirty

Engineer - Boyfriends, may as well be fucking married tbh

Medic - Friends

Sniper - Friends

Spy - Besties, flirty

Demoman - Werewolf

Transforms at sundown on nights of the Full Moon, and at midnight on Halloween, becoming a 7 foot tall bipedal anthropomorphic wolf with black fur and a gold eye, with green magic steaming out of his empty eye socket. Has an almost excessively large dick while transformed, which is maroon in colour, somewhere between human and canid in shape with a mostly-defined head but a pointed tip, is in a sheath when flaccid, and knots shortly before he comes. Has been transforming since he was 10, as puberty began to rear its ugly head, so has had a long time and the guidance of his birth parents to learn to control himself while transformed, as much as he can. It's still a struggle against his instincts, a fight between wolf and man, but he's very good at it.

Scout - Romantic friendship, fucking regularly, loves him but not ready to commit to relationship. When transformed, considers him one of his mates.

Soldier - Distant friends, misses his buddy and glad he’s coming around

Pyro - Friends, appreciates how much he cares

Heavy - Friends, curious about how jotun v werewolf would stack up (fight or sexually but really both)

Engineer - Friends, curious about all the BDSM stuff

Medic - Friends, thinks he’s hot and a great lay

Sniper - Husbands, his heart, his sun, his moon, his stars in the sky, makes him a better person, he’s perfect. His Mate.

Spy - Friends, fucking regularly (with Sniper), canid solidarity

Heavy - Half-Jotun

His ancestry doesn't affect his appearance much other than make it so he doesn't suffer the joint aches and general agonies of being as big a dude as he is like RED Heavy surely deals with as the years go by. He has the ability to learn innate magic, but never bothered, being practical and preferring his fists and his beloved Sascha. As a Jotun he has pale blue-grey skin and his hair goes black, and his eyes glow a pale, glacial blue. He has slightly pointed ears and stands 8 feet tall, growing broader to match the increased size. His dick is perhaps cartoonishly larger in that state, but he's not exactly a slouch normally to begin with. Has stronger ability for innate magic related to storms and weather, but hasn't bothered with them much, though he's considering actually learning eventually.

Scout - Boyfriends

Soldier - Friends, finds it charming how well he treats Scout

Pyro - Friends, flirty, thinks he’s cute

Demoman - Friends, REALLY enjoyed watching him plow Medic, would love some jotun v werewolf (fighting and fucking)

Engineer - Friends, fucking regularly with Medic

Medic - Boyfriends, may as well be fucking married tbh, nested primary partner, they go together

Sniper - Friends, wants to screw around more often

Spy - Friends, fucking regularly, has developed feelings but unsure what to do with them yet

Engineer - Cyborg

Slowly replacing meat with machine, has so far replaced his right hand (The Gunslinger, also an advanced prosthetic he wears off the battlefield that more accurately mimics human tissue), both legs at his upper-thighs (both advanced prosthetics, containing small compartments for storing things like weapons, lubricant, ammo, tools), and his spine, with plans for an eventual total body conversion, though he's still working out exactly how much of the nitty gritty of being alive he wants to keep as part of the experience. Pyro's hoping for some vibration functions.

Scout - Friends, fucking regularly, still trying to figure out exactly how he feels before committing to anything

Soldier - Friends

Pyro - Boyfriends, may as well be fucking married tbh

Demoman - Friends, hoping to get a casual thing going

Heavy - Friends, fucking regularly with Medic

Medic - Besties, fucking regularly with Heavy

Sniper - Friends, hoping to get a casual thing going, lowkey using how flirty he is as the more honest measuring stick for when he’ll finally tip over from human to not human

Spy - Friends, fucking regularly, great pain pig sub

The Administrator - Boss, scares the piss outta him, has to stay on her good side to keep the Australium coming, family legacy tied up with her is… complicated

Medic - Garuda

Has large, white wings like a dove's and hands and feet to match covered in keratinous cornium with a desaturated pinkish grey colour up to his elbows and knees, with a ruff of feathers separating it from his normal skin. Has black nails on his hands and black talons on his feet like a bird of prey. Has hollow bones, but requires the use of magic to actually fly, as even though his wingspan is large it's still not enough to lift his body mass (and shape) with air alone. Has nictitating membranes on his eyes which he closes while flying or doing something messy, or sometimes just when he's not thinking too hard about what his face is doing. It creeps out most of the team (Sniper thinks it's hot). Already pretty gifted at formalized magic before the transformation, which gave him a natural aptitude atop it. Utilizes formalized spellcasting still, however, finding the structure of formulae easier to understand and adapt in his spellcasting, treating it as a science. Especially skilled with Transmutation. Has made Archimedes his familiar.

Scout - Boyfriends

Soldier - Friends, fascinated by his biology (wants to run tests on that neck void of his)

Pyro - Friends, respects his magical knowledge, fascinated by his biology (and stymied that Pyro hasn’t let him study it)

Demoman - Friends, finds him attractive, finds his werewolf form even more attractive, wants to get railed again

Heavy - Boyfriends, may as well be fucking married tbh

Engineer - Besties, fucking regularly with Heavy

Sniper - Friends, has the hots for him more than a little

Spy - Friends, fucking regularly, has developed feelings but unsure what to do with them yet

Sniper - Human

Bro's literally just a human, lmao. He's a big ol' slut with kinks for monsters and danger (and dangerous monsters) and has a lot of experience and knowledge of supernatural things as a result of pursuing those kinks, but he's not a pratitioner of magic nor a supernatural creature.

Scout - Besties, fucking regularly, loves him but not ready to commit to a relationship

Soldier - Friends, fucking occasionally

Pyro - Friends, thinks he’s hot, wants to shag proper not just as part of a threesome

Demoman - Husbands, his sun, his moon, his stars in the sky, loves the whole werewolf thing, he’s perfect

Heavy - Friends, thinks he’s hot, wants to take that jotun dick again

Engineer - Friends, curious about the whole BDSM thing with him, wants to know what that robot hand can do

Medic - Friends, monsterfucker accomplice, thinks he’s hot, wants to shag more

Spy - Friends, fucking regularly (with Demo), might be developing a crush, can’t stop himself from teasing and messing with him sometimes

Spy - Kitsune

Natural form is a red fox with three tails (he is presently 299 years old, and gains a new tail every 100 years, so he's due for his fourth in 1971), and he can look like anyone, but his preferred form is the Spy we all know. Hiding his tails is the hardest part of holding his shape, so he doesn't bother around the base outside of work anymore. Can shapechange at will, and though it requires magic it doesn't require actual spellcasting, and is as natural as muscle movement. Has an affinity for innate spellcasting and is an expert with illusions in particular, but also dabbles in fire magic, minor charms, utility spells, and the like. Like all kitsune he has a magic orb called a hoshitama (literally "star ball") that he doesn't keep on him often because of how precious it is, but it can amplify his magic considerably, and allows him to use Kitsunetsuki, a possession magic.

Scout - Boyfriends, slowly learning to really let him in and be comfortable with that

Soldier - Friends, vacillates between being done with him and finding him charming, not immune to that broad chest

Pyro - Besties, curious about his nature and loves how much Pyro likes to fuck with him, maybe a little crush

Demoman - Friends, fucking regularly (with Sniper), has noticed how good Sniper is for him which has also helped him see just how charming Demo can be, maybe a little crush

Heavy - Friends, fucking regularly, has absolutely developed feelings but unsure what to do with them yet

Engineer - Friends, fucking regularly, trying to ignore the fact that he’s developed feelings and just tells himself the rimjobs are just that good (I mean they are but still)

Medic - Friends, fucking regularly, has absolutely developed feelings but unsure what to do with them yet

Sniper - Friends, fucking regularly (with Demo), drives him crazy but he’d be stupid to deny how attractive he is which only drives him crazier, maybe a little crush

Bidwell - That gay little Judas. Gives great head, though.

---------

Engineer always hated being on the surgery table.

It was funny, to him. So many times he'd whiled the day away in the infirmary—even in the surgery—talking with Medic. They'd be workshopping ideas, talking about their projects, gossiping about their teammates, venting about their relationships, and more recently: flirting. The medbay had become a hangout spot for him, a place to relax and shoot the shit with the man who had quickly become his best friend from the moment they'd met on their first day on assignment.

But there was a difference between sitting on a rolling stool with a beer while the doctor poked away at some other poor stiff and being the one lying naked, face-down on the table himself. If nothing else, it was noticeably chillier.

Beside him, Medic was futzing about with supplies, setting up his surgical equipment on a rolling tray table, hanging the IV bag and getting the tubing situated, and trying to remember where the hell he'd put the anesthetic. He was going all out: a proper surgery and not just a medigun-assisted fuckaround, as was so often his style. He'd even shooed all of the doves into his office, though that was a bit more at Engineer's own insistence. He'd heard what had happened to RED's Scout that one time.

More than that: Medic understood how delicate a procedure this was going to be, and was not about to waste his friend's time with anything less than a perfect performance. The man's pride may have been riding on it a bit, after the Texan had expressed a bit of dubiousness at his ability to perform a full spinal removal while keeping the brain stem intact, and install and thread the cord into a prosthetic replacement alone, without outside assistance.

What choice did he really have, though? It wasn't like Engineer could be the second pair of hands; it was his back the doc was cracking open, after all. He looked to his side where the prosthesis in question lay atop a steel table, a sheet separating it from the metal. The spine was crafted of titanium, whisper-thin golden filaments of Australium etched throughout the metal and branching both outward to connect to nerves and inward, woven into the complex mesh of wires that comprised the thing's artificial spinal cord. Medic would have to attach it to Engineer's brain stem nerve by nerve, an exhausting and tedious process that would require all of Medic's legendarily difficult to direct hyperfocus. Any mistakes could result in numbness to lack of motor control to full paralysis, so Medic had to tread carefully lest he waste all of their time, have to rip the spine back out, and put a bullet in his friend's head to send him through respawn with a fresh spine made of bone for his troubles.

That metal spine was the pinnacle of Engineer's achievements thus far. If his arm and legs that mimicked real flesh in form and function were proof of concept, this was the final test of all of it. If he could replace a spinal cord with machinery and have it work just as good as if not better than the one he was born with, then he could replace damn near anything. The only guesswork after that would be a brain. Anything else would just be a matter of personal preferences. Saliva, eating, ejaculating; all unnecessary things that he could figure out in due time if he really cared to as he slowly made himself something new, something piecemeal and replaceable and upgradeable and intentional.

Some men liked to tinker on project cars. Engineer was ready to make his hobby a project body. Something not his by chance and genetics, but by choice and design. Interchangeable at a whim, aesthetics bound only by his skills and his imagination.

And a bit of Pyro's personal preference. After all, he did have to live with whatever Engineer cooked up. It was courteous to give him a say in the process, and Engineer enjoyed the input. He was building himself, but a version of himself visibly marked and shaped by love. If he were the type of man to concern himself with conundrums of philosophy, he might feel some extra sort of way about that.

Pyro. Engineer sighed, laying his face in the padded positioner atop the operating table and trying to force himself to relax. Pyro had walked him to the infirmary, holding his hand and offering gentle words of encouragement. He hadn't told the djinni that he hated being put under, but he had a feeling he understood anyway, based on how many times he'd offered to let Engineer hold onto Teddy Roosebelt during the surgery. He'd told Pyro about all the back surgeries he had as a kid, so he had the feeling his firebug had guessed that he wasn't exactly a fan of being here now, laying on his belly with telemetry leads stuck to his chest and ready to tear his hair out when removed, a nasal cannula looped under his nose and around his ears to push oxygen, and an IV tube in the back of his hand hooked up to fluids as he listened to Medic mumbling to himself in German while his talons clicked away on the cement floor with each step.

It was sweet, even if it made him more anxious at leaving Pyro at the door to head in to meet his fate, feeling like he was being walked to the damn gallows from the dourness of it all. Pyro was probably being even more of a worrywart than he was about this, and Engineer couldn't help but find it charming.

But dammit, it's not like this was a life-or-death situation! At least, not permanently! Deeply inconvenient and time-wasting if something went wrong, yes, but he was coming out of this infirmary under his own recognizance one way or another. The way Pyro had kissed him and murmured, "I'll see you later, baby bear," and the way his own stomach was knotting itself up didn't help dispel the feeling, though.

Engineer let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding when Medic finally turned to him and held up a syringe, chirping, "Finally! I can't believe I lost track of this kleiner Racker!" He tittered, pushing the plunger enough to force out any air bubbles in the tube as he regarded his prone friend. "I use anesthesia so rarely I'd almost forgotten I still had any!"

"That stuff ain't expired, is it?" Engineer asked, feeling his whole body go tense. Medic's bedside manner was as awful as always. He was a genius, gifted in both medicine and magic, but he'd be God-damned if the doc wasn't just awful at making people comfortable if they weren't the same brand of fucked up as him.

Which explained why Heavy never complained, really.

"Of course not, BLU keeps all of my equipment and materials up-to-date. I just don't bother putting that little jar within arm's reach when I settle in on a base transfer, you know?" Medic chuckled affably, noting the way Engineer did not chuckle with him.

In fact, the poor man was one big ball of stress, all of his muscles tense, his back bulging like he was fighting back a flight instinct. Even Medic could tell he was anxious beyond reason. Something about that scar that ran up his lower back told him it wasn't an old combat wound. It was too old, for one thing.

Even with anesthesia, he was going to need to get Engineer to relax. All of that tension would bring with it increased blood flow to the activated muscles, which meant a messier surgery for him and increased chances of something going wrong. Setting the syringe down on the tray table, he looked over his patient in thought, ruffling the feathers of his wings for a bit of stimulation.

"Everythin' okay back there? You still gonna put me under, or you just enjoyin' the view?" Engineer teased, sounding more breathless than jovial.

Medic had to admit, it was a really great view. Engineer's round ass and muscular back were always a feast for the eyes. "Nein," he half-lied. "I just thought of something, however. I will be right back, and then we can get started."

Engineer frowned. He just wanted this over with at this point. "Sure thing, Doc." He watched as Medic left the surgery and slumped onto the table with a sigh. At this point if blood loss or severing the spinal cord didn't kill him the anticipation would.

*

Click. Ksk. Fshh. Clack.

Pyro wore his mask and the chemsuit with the hood on it, pulled up over his head to fully enshroud him as he sat balled up in a chair in the corner of the waiting room, facing the door to the infirmary.

Click. Ksk. Fshh. Clack.

Teddy Roosebelt was tucked against his chest, held under one arm.

Click. Ksk. Fshh. Clack.

Flames and metal reflected in the lenses of Pyro's mask and in Teddy Roosebelt's button eyes as he flipped open his lighter, flicked its flint wheel to light its flame long enough to crackle, then snapped it closed. He did it again. And again. Over and over; its rhythm soothing him as he tried to find anything to occupy himself with but his own thoughts.

It was ridiculous. They were on base. Medic had a ceiling-mounted medigun at the ready and healing magic to hand. The ultimate safety net, Respawn, was freshly maintenanced and running perfectly. The only stakes here were time and effort, and still, Pyro couldn't help but curl up in that waiting room chair, tense and nervous and unable to relax as he waited for his lover's surgery to end.

Medic has assured him it would be a long procedure. Possibly hours. It was a lot of pain-staking work, and there was no need for him to just sit around there waiting.

But what else could he do while his boyfriend was having his spine replaced? It seemed almost cruel to just go watch cartoons with Scout and Soldier or gossip with Spy or do some crafts. It felt like not caring.

Pyro very much cared.

Engineer had seemed so on-edge, walking down here with him. He'd been describing what exactly went into the surgery and installation on a technical level, but Pyro could tell he was mostly doing it to hear himself talk. That is, to talk loud enough that he couldn't hear himself think.

His back problems had been the inspiration for all of this. A poor kid bucked off a horse, nearly paralyzed and enduring spinal surgeries and years of chronic pain, having to go back under the knife as a man; it was more than a little scary. To expose that part of him again, a locus of so much emotional and physical pain, was no small feat.

But if this was a success, if it worked the way Engineer and Medic were sure it would, he would be pain-free for the first time in decades. It would be, like magic, gone. That in itself had to also be its own kind of intimidating. Engineer had been in pain for so long that it had been a constant presence in his life. It was what drove him to become fascinated by the transhuman idea of shedding flesh and bone entirely. In a few hours, everything could be totally different.

He wondered what that would end up meaning. It could mean a lot of things.

Most importantly, though, it would mean that his work was proven, that full body conversion could be possible, that wafer-thin filaments of Australium could be the grease that turns the wheels of artificial life.

That maybe, just maybe, Engineer had more than thirty or forty more years left in him. That he wouldn't just be the blink of an eye in the span of Pyro's millennia-spanning life.

Like every human he'd ever loved before.

Click. Ksk. Fshh. Clack.

The door to the infirmary opened slowly, dragging Pyro's attention away from the lighter and jolting him upright in his seat.

"Pyro?" Medic ventured, upon seeing the djinni startle.

"What's wrong?" Pyro asked, making to stand. It was entirely too soon for them to be done. Hell, it was too soon for them to have even started.

"Nothing," Medic assured him, holding his hands up to try and soothe him. "I'm about to push the anesthetic, and, well, I won't lie to you: Dell is much more nervous than he'll admit. I was hoping you would be willing to come in and talk to him. Or something. While I put him under," he explained, feeling a bit ridiculous being so gentle about it all. Engineer was being a baby, to put it bluntly. But chastising the man would do nothing to reduce his anxiety and the tension in his back, so a softer touch was necessary.

Pyro was out of his seat in an instant, clutching Teddy Roosebelt between his hands. "Y-yeah! Sure!"

"Gut! Come along, then," Medic bade, holding the door for his friend and leading him inside.

As they walked, Pyro took a few deep breaths. If he was this anxious, Engineer was probably a wreck. He needed to be strong for him, at least until he was under. After that he could go back to being antsy as much as he needed.

Well, it was silly when he thought of it like that.

But then being so nervous about a surgery that literally had no permanent failstate was a bit silly.

"I appreciate your assistance with this, Pyro. Too much tension in his back will make blood management an absolute nightmare, and everything will take so much longer as a result. I'd like none of the three of us to miss dinner if possible," Medic joked with an affable chuckle.

Pyro laughed a little, if a bit less easily.

As they entered the surgery, Pyro took a deep breath, the smell of antiseptic a good sign in the normally horribly unsanitary operating room. Engineer lay at the centre of the room, face-down on a table with his face cradled on a padded positioner. He was naked, a few dotted lines drawn on the skin of his back on either side of his spine in marker, a few notes in German labeling them. An oxygen tube looped around his ears and under his nose, leading to a machine that doled out the air to help him breathe. Leads stuck to Engineer's chest ran from him to a telemetry box, which displayed his clearly elevated heartbeat for all to see. On a steel table beside it lay the artificial spine, shining in titanium and Australium in the bright lights of the surgery.

It freaked Pyro out a little to see.

"Back finally?" Engineer mumbled, not moving his face from the positioner. The tension in his whole body was clear as day, and Pyro wanted to hug him.

So he did.

Cool rubber pressed against Engineer's back, the soft plop of Pyro's gasmask hitting the floor seconds before giving him the only form of warning before arms were squeezing at him and warm lips pressing to his scalp. He jolted before the familiar kiss told him all he needed to know. "Pyro! What're you doin' in here, sunshine?" he asked, his smile audible in his voice.

"I thought you might want him here while you went under," Medic explained. "A calming presence to help you relax." Pyro pressed his forehead against the crown of Engineer's shaven head and sighed a little. "How're you doin', sandwich?"

"I ain't gonna lie: I ain't exactly cozy layin' here with my ass in the air 'n stickers on my tits," Engineer joked, reaching his free hand up, groping at the air.

Pyro took his hand and gave it a squeeze, kissing him again as he squeezed back tightly, betraying his nerves. "Cold table against your dick ain't doing it for you?" Pyro teased gently, pressing another kiss to his head before letting go. He knelt beside the table so that Engineer could see him from around the facial positioner.

"Nah, you know I like things warm 'n toasty," Engineer chuckled, giving him a smile and delighting in the one he received in turn.

Pyro's smile could light up a room, regardless of the whole 'being made of fire' thing. Just seeing it made Engineer melt. The djinni squeezed his hand again, then lifted it to his lips, pressing soft kisses to his knuckles. "You're gonna be good. You're gonna be amazing. I know it," he assured his lover, the soft golden glow of his eyes reflecting in the nascent cyborg's own electric blue. "You're gonna wake up in a few hours feeling better than you have since you were a little kid. And even better? You'll have proof your design's flawless. You'll be right."

Pyro knew just how to stroke Engineer's ego, and the Texan huffed out a soft laugh at how naked the appeal was. Even if it did make a bit of pride swell in his heart. He wasn't immune to ego-stroking, much less such laser-targeted efforts at it. "Thanks, darlin'. If you believe in me, I guess I gotta too, huh?" "Yeah, otherwise you're being a real jerk about it," Pyro teased with a grin. He kissed Engineer's knuckles again. "I'm gonna stay here 'til you're asleep, okay? And Teddy Roosebelt can stay with you 'til you wake back up." He cast an expectant look to Medic, who shrugged.

"I see no problem with having an assistant," he said simply, smiling as soothingly as he was physically able.

"I'd like that," Engineer said. He accepted Teddy Roosebelt with his free hand, tucking him between the crook of his elbow and his chest, tilting his little hardhat askew. "Thanks, darlin'."

"Are you ready?" Medic asked, coming around to retrieve his syringe of anesthetic.

With a gulp and a squeeze of Pyro's hand, Engineer confirmed. "Ready."

"G'night, baby bear." Pyro soothed, kissing his knuckles one last time. As Medic slid the needle of the syringe into the hub of Engineer's IV and pushed the medication, he began rubbing his thumb over the nervous human's fingers. "How about a lullaby?"

Engineer chuckled softly as he waited for the medication to hit. "I'd like that."

With a gentle smile, Pyro softly sang, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away..."

Engineer's fingers went limp, his eyes closed, his body slack. Pyro swallowed hard, reminding himself this was just unconsciousness.

He looked so peaceful.

Medic's hand alighted on Pyro's shoulder gently, before giving a soft squeeze. "Thank you, Pyro. He needed that. And I think, maybe, you did too."

Pyro nodded, grabbing his gas mask and standing. "Yeah. Thanks, Medic."

Medic waved him off. "Think nothing of it. This surgery would have been annoying if he were still so tense." He gave Pyro another squeeze before letting go. "But let me assure you, my friend: regardless of Respawn, I have never lost a patient accidentally." He grinned brightly, smug and evil, and Pyro couldn't hold back a laugh at that, all of the tension in him finally bleeding away.

"Guess I shouldn't hold you up any longer, then."

"Go do something. Don't just sit in the waiting room," Medic admonished warmly. "It's boring in there. I should really put in a television or at least a radio."

Pyro tugged his gas mask back on and nodded. "Alright," he replied, as if being terribly put upon, though there was mirth in it. With that, he left, sparing one last look to his prone partner, now sleeping soundly on the table, Teddy Roosebelt tucked under his arm to watch out for him.

*

"Right, stay still!" Sniper hollered, shouldering his rifle to look down the scope. He stood on the porch, poised and ready as he lined up his shot. Across the parking lot to the base, Scout sat atop Sniper's camper van, a green apple perched atop his head.

"I'm tryin', but it ain't easy with you pointin' that rifle at me, Snipes!" Scout hollered back, gripping the edge of the van's roof and trying to hold as still as he could. A bullet through the head would be annoying, but a bullet through the antler would be agonizing, and a trip to the medbay. He'd rather hit Respawn than catch an injury.

"Just relax!" Demoman called from beside Sniper, holding a bag of apples with one in hand. He took a loud bite of one, chewing with a chuckle as Scout shot back complaints of that being easier said than done.

"Don't antagonize 'im," Sniper chuckled before taking a deep breath and letting it out. He squeezed the trigger and the rifle's report felt deafening as it reverberated under the porch. Across the parking lot, the apple atop Scout's head practically atomized in a spray of white apple flesh as it was punched through by a 7.62mm bullet.

Scout shrieked as apple particles rained down on him, ducking and covering his head as if that would do anything to save if him. Across the lot, he could hear his friends break into laughter and pouted, flipping both of them off.

"Yeh, that'll stop the bullet, mate!" Sniper called with a snicker, lowering his rifle.

"Perfect form, lad! Just like that!" Demoman jeered, turning to his husband to give him a nice, crisp high-five in congratulations.

"Man, you guys suck!" Scout huffed, hopping off of the van. He trotted back over with a sour look on his face. "Can't believe I let you talk me into that."

"Ye of little faith," Sniper tisked, wagging a finger. "Think I can't hit a bullseye that bloody close. Come off it!"

"What about a moving target?"

The three men turned to see Pyro at the door into the base, leaning against the jamb with a smile.

"What you got in mind?" Sniper asked.

"I'll get my flamethrower, and we'll see who wins: my airblasts versus your crackshots. Scout volleys an apple up, I'll blast it, try to keep you from drawing a bead. If I can get to ten blasts before you can hit that apple, I win. I'll even put money on it."

Sniper grinned. "You're on, mate."

*

"Seven!"

"Eight!"

"Nine!"

CRACK

"TEN!"

Sniper cursed and threw his hat to the ground as his shot went wide and Pyro reached up to catch the falling apple, a tenth blast puffing it up as a victory lap before it fell. "Get fucked! Again?!"

Pyro took a loud bite of the apple and chewed around laughter, then tossed the fruit to Scout. He ambled over to Sniper with his palm out, ready to receive his money. "I believe I win again, Mr. Mundy."

Sniper grumbled and dug his wallet back out, snarling as he withdrew fifty dollars and handed it to Pyro.

"Love, that's six hundred dollars, now. Maybe ye think it's eno—"

Sniper glared at Demoman, daring him to finish that sentence, and the bomber clammed up immediately. It was more than money at this point. His pride was at stake. "One more go," he growled, turning that glare on Pyro.

Pyro chuckled and pocketed the money. "Sure. Hey Scout, set me up a fresh one."

Scout nodded, chewing on the apple Pyro had bitten as he snatched another from the bag. "Ready?" he asked around a mouthful.

"Go," Sniper barked.

Scout tossed the apple into the air and stepped away as Pyro and Sniper tracked the fruit in the air, the first air blast pushing it higher.

Sniper watched, eyes on the fruit, tracking its predicted movements with the barrel of his rifle. He wished he'd taken the scope off of his rifle so that he could watch his iron sights for it, but that wasn't the game as wagered, so he had to make do. It was fine. He made snapshots daily. This should be doable. Easy, even.

A second airblast pushed it diagonally, making him have to jerk to the side to follow. Pyro was playing with him, and it was infuriating. He could see the white flames of his grin out of the corner of his eye, and he wasn't about to let him get one over on him.

A third airblast sent it diagonally the other direction, and Sniper was on it like a hawk, ready, leading it with his barrel, half-watching Pyro's movements to predict where he'd send it next.

"Pyro! There you are! Come with me!"

A fourth airblast sent the apple straight up as Pyro's attention was diverted to the door to the base, which Medic was now holding open, absolutely covered in blood.

CRACK!

The apple exploded into a shower of apple chunks and juice as Sniper landed the shot, the rest of the world dead to him as he focused every bit of his attention on the green fruit that fell through the air. He cackled victoriously, lowering the rifle to find Pyro trotting into the base without a word. "Oi!"

*

Engineer awoke groggily, his mind slowly coming to as he cracked his eyes open, rolling them about to take in his surroundings through barely-parted eyelids. His lashes hadn't passed his vision, casting his sight in a haze of blond, but all the same he gradually puzzled out that he was in the main examination room of the infirmary, laying propped in a half-sitting position on a gurney and swaddled loosely in a light hospital blanket. Teddy Roosebelt was tucked into the crook of his arm. The late-July sunlight filtering in from the high windows had the barest tinge of gold to it, meaning it was still several hours from the horizon, so it was before dinner.

He hadn't thought Medic would get it done as fast as he'd claimed. Engineer huffed out an impressed little breath and hoped that was the only thing he'd been wrong about today. He licked his lips, groggy, and took a deep breath. Anesthesia always made him woozy when he came out of it, so he wasn't about to get up and start doing squats, but he supposed it was time to start figuring it all out.

He started with his hand, the one still made of flesh and bone, where his IV had been. The tube was gone now, the puncture healed over, and it was even free of any residue from the medical tape. Medic had cleaned him up and unhooked him from everything before he'd come around, which he counted as a small mercy. He was sure he had five bald spots on his chest from where the telemetry leads had been ripped away. A good thing he wasn't awake for that.

He curled his fingers into his palm, then stretched them out, fanning them out before wiggling them a bit. With a smile, he watched the digits move with the distance of someone who was still regaining the ability to feel that he had a body at all, everything waking up and recombobulating gradually in stages. He felt disconnected from himself in the way that only an altered state could bring, so success brought an extra level of relief, since feeling like being in his own body at all was currently a bit of a novelty.

He wiggled his toes. Both feet.

His right hand balled up into a fist, then grasped the blanket and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger.

He bent his elbows, he bent his knees. He drew his legs up, flexing his hips. Finally, he braced his hands on the gurney and sat up.

It didn't hurt to do so.

Engineer blinked for a moment, staring into the middle distance as he focused on the sensation of movement as he sat, as he settled into a seated position. He curled his legs up a bit to stabilize himself as he fully sat up on the gurney and noted every feeling that ran through his body.

It didn't hurt.

There was no dull ache in his lower back, no throb of pain as he transitioned between positions, no undue pressure as he held himself up straight. He arched back a bit, and there was no twinge.

It didn't hurt.

Engineer licked his lips again, then clenched his jaw, which quivered if he gave it even an ounce of slack. His stomach drew up, shuddering within him, and he could feel heat in his eyes. It took every bit of him working together not to cry.

Instead, he smiled. And punched the gurney beneath him. And let out a whoop of victory. He thrust his fists into the air in triumph, electric elation surging through him and overwriting the urge to sob with the urge to scream, which he indulged, roaring victory to the rafters and scattering the birds there in a startled flutter of feathers.

He'd done it! It had worked! He had beaten nature itself! He had exceeded the limitations of meat and sinew and left it in the dust! He swung his legs over the side of the gurney and kicked them, wiggling his toes, watching the fruits of his labours. Artificial limbs connected to his brain stem through an artificial spinal column inside an artificial spine, marrying meat and machine in perfect synchronicity to create something new, something better!

That urge to cry still tingled at his sinuses, in the corners of his eyes and deep inside his nose, but the sheer ecstatic glee that coursed through his whole body kept it at bay, laughter instead bubbling out of him halfway between a giggle and a cackle, making him feel like Viktor Frankenstein lowering his monster down from the storm.

It's moving! It's alive! It's alive!

The door to the infirmary creaked open quietly, and Engineer reflexively made a mental note to oil the hinge before properly registering that someone was there. He frowned a little at how swimmy the anesthesia still had him. Looking to the doorway, he saw as Pyro rushed in ahead of a still very bloody Medic, his yellow eyes going wide at the sight of him.

"Dell!"

That one word betrayed so much. Not Delicatessen, not Sandwich, not Baby Bear, not a million other pet names that his lover had given him over the past few years. Just Dell.

Just his name.

Just him.

Pyro might've been even more worried than he was.

"Hey there, Sunshine," Engineer chuckled, his voice feeling a little thick in his mouth from the mixture of emotion and medication. He opened his arms to welcome the djinni, who dashed across the room and barely skidded to a halt before bowling him over the gurney as he wrapped his arms around him in a crushing hug.

That kind of hug would have absolutely cracked his old spine.

Engineer realized he would miss that a little.

"The operation was a complete success," Medic chirped, finally bothering to go wash up as the two lovers embraced. "It was actually very relaxing to connect all of those nerves, I quite enjoyed myself!"

"You can move everything?" Pyro asked, pulling back a bit to look his lover in the eyes.

"Everything seems to be accounted for," Engineer confirmed with a smile. "Not noticin' any numbness or nothin', neither."

"Well, if you do happen to find anything amiss, I will be happy to open you back up and quintuple-check my work, of course," Medic offered as he shut off the sink and wiped his hands dry on a stained towel.

"I'll have to give you a thorough exam then, so we can be sure," Pyro chuckled, leaning his forehead against Engineer's.

"I think I'd be amenable to that," Engineer agreed with a soft laugh.

They stayed like that for a long moment, gazing into one another's eyes and smiling like loopy idiots, holding one another. It was Pyro who broke the silence. "You did it, baby bear."

"I did it," Engineer confirmed warmly. He tugged Pyro into a kiss, squeezing him tight in turn.

"How does it feel?"

"It don't hurt anymore."

A soft sound of relief left Pyro's throat at that, and he buried his face in Engineer's neck, hugging him for all he was worth. He couldn't find the words to say in reply to that, to congratulate and celebrate his lover's achievement, his freedom, his joy. Instead, he merely held him, and was held in turn, and laughed softly against his warm skin.

Medic looked over at the happy couple and couldn't help a smile. He knew he'd get his proper kudos for his part in the operation in time. For now, he was glad to let them have their moment, and to revel in the knowledge of his own achievement in all of this. He looked forward to bragging about it to Heavy later, certainly. For now, he was tired from concentrating for so long, and dinner would be soon anyway. Enough time to get changed and do a bit of relaxing before heading to mess.

"Cannae believe ye came away from this wee pit stop with bite wounds on both sides o' yer neck," Demoman chuckled as he and Sniper loaded up the ute. He tossed their bags of freshly-laundered clothing into the bunk.

"To be fair, the one from Grant's almost gone," Sniper replied simply, squirreling away the sack of hotel toiletries (and stolen towels) they'd made sure to gather up. The other bag he held contained a bunch of brownies that Demoman had splurged on in the hotel gift shop. "Why so many brownies?"

"Ye didnae read the wee booklet in the room? This hotel's where they were invented, for the World's Fair," Demoman replied simply. "Besides, what's a vacation without a few wee tourist treats?"

Sniper chuckled softly and put the bag in the cabinet for later snacking. "Fair enough. Should hit a supermarket on the way out, too. Stock up so we don't 'ave to go try and hunt our food 'til we're done in Point Pleasant at least."

"Aye, dinnae want ye gettin' seduced by any other wildcats," Demoman snorted, earning himself a light shove and erupting into a full laugh.

"Wanker," Sniper huffed ruefully.

*

After a stop off for groceries on the way out of town, the mercenaries headed south, leaving Chicago and their two wild nights behind.

"Should be able to make it to Point Pleasant by evenin' with a leisurely drive," Sniper remarked as they pulled onto the highway.

"What's our route?"

"South to Indiana on I-65 for two hundred sixty miles or so, headed for a spot in the lower corner of the state in Vernon, where there's some lovely forest with plenty of camping. Figure we'll stop there, 'ave a nice lunch in nature, then make our way to route 50. Fifty miles on there 'til we cross into Ohio and keep going east. It's nearly a straight shot from Vernon to Point Pleasant for the most part," Sniper explained. "Should be arrivin' just in time for a late dinner."

"Short drive crossin' so many states," Demoman chuckled. "Ye can tell we're goin' east."

"Bloody wild 'earin' a European callin' seven or eight hours a short drive," Sniper snorted.

"Aye, but compared tae the first half o' the drive? Touchin' four states in a single workday sounds right mental."

*

"So," Sniper began, breaking the hour or so of silence that had settled in atop the background droning of the radio. Long stretches of rolling grassland spread out on either side of the interstate, broken occasionally by houses and stray trees and letting the late-morning sun gently bake the mercenaries in the ute's cab. "You think Heavy, Doc, and Soldier shagged after that gun show?"

Demoman snorted a laugh. "Figured that for a given. Good for 'em, though," he hummed. "'m glad Jane's well and truly puttin' himself back out there."

"'e's been datin' Scout since March, love."

"Aye, but they were already basically an item, ye ken? Only thing stoppin' Soldier from goin' official sooner with the lad was the whole thing with the other team's Demoman. Lad held a torch even after all o' that mess, then he comes tae the party late and the first thing he does is tell Scout he's in love with him?" Demoman shook his head.

"You think the thing Jane said he needed to figure out was all that with the RED Demo?"

"Bloody well ken it," Demoman confirmed. "I'd wager good money the lad was meetin' up with him again off hours, tryin' tae be better discrete about it." With a sigh, he turned his eye to the road ahead. "Suppose it didnae go the way he hoped. But maybe the way he needed, ye ken."

Sniper shook his head. "Shame, really. What 'appened with them. Fallin' in love across enemy lines."

"Aye, but I dinnae think it'd last. That Demoman's a drunken lout, and when I'm sayin' that, ye ken yer man's hit rock bottom," Demoman sighed. "And Jane, he's me mate, but he's nae exactly a stabilizin' influence."

"And Soldier's a bloody maniac when 'e gets worked up."

"Aye. They only encouraged the worst in each other. It was gonna go bad nae matter which way it ended, I think."

Sniper let out a long, thoughtful breath through his nose. "I try to be good for you, pup. I know I'm like to go off half-cocked on adventures sometimes, but—"

"Oi, dinnae make this about us," Demoman laughed. "Yer great for me, Mickey. Best thing that's ever happened tae me. I look at that RED bastard and there but for the grace o' Michael Mundy goes I."

"You're good for me, too," Sniper replied warmly, sparing a hand from the steering wheel to lay atop his lover's thigh and give a light squeeze.

"I ken. Otherwise ye'd never settle down, always off doin' some such nonsense and gettin' yerself intae trouble," Demoman chastised teasingly.

"Settle down?" Sniper chuckled. "Next you'll want a house and ankle biters."

"Got a house, Dee. Bloody mansion. Kids?" Demoman's nose wrinkled, not thrilled with the possibility of having to actively choose to throw away generations of abusive DeGroot child-rearing, sure that he couldn't bring himself to subject a child to it. "How about a couple o' dogs instead?"

"I mean, you're a werewolf. Couple of kids, couple of dogs, they might end up bein' the same thing, yeh?"

"MICHAEL MUNDY," Demoman howled, swatting at his husband and making him shrink away snickering, "ye great bastard!"

"No worries, love, sprogs wouldn't fit our lifestyle anyway. We'd 'ave to stop fuckin' Scout in public spaces all the time, for one."

"Aye," Demoman hummed thoughtfully, "I dinnae ken if that's a sacrifice any o' the lads would be willin' tae make."

Sniper snickered at that. "Speakin' of that little wanker and family, which one of 'is boyfriends you think 'e's gonna bring 'ome to 'is mum first? Soldier, Heavy, Medic, or Spy?"

Demoman pouted as he considered that question. "Cripe, that's a choice, innit? Does Scout's mum even ken about all... this?"

"Yeh, nah, Scout's not told 'er about any of us, at least as far as datin' and shaggin' goes."

"Probably for the best. All o' the lad's officials are basically his mum's age or older. Bloody hilarious."

"I 'ope 'e brings 'ome Spy, honestly. Imagine the absolute chaos that would cause, what with 'is mum shaggin' the RED Spy and all."

"Shite, I'd forgotten all about that! Both spooks under the same roof for bloody Smissmas dinner, snipin' at each other in French at the table and bein' prissy gits the whole time. Scout havin' tae explain his taste in men tae his mum, and how he brought home her man's double! That'd be legendary!"

"So long as Scout's mum doesn't go and try to steal Scout's Spy away from 'im to 'ave 'em all to 'erself," Sniper snorted, making Demoman whoop out a laugh.

"Fucked up," Demoman chuckled. "Though ye seen photos o' the lass? If anyone could do it, it'd be her."

"She is a deadset stunner," Sniper agreed with amusement.

*

Shortly after one o'clock, Sniper turned the ute off of the highway and into a lot in the middle of a clearing. The forest all around had been deep and dense and dark for miles, so the sudden bright, clear-cut spot of grass and concrete had Demoman perking up from his road-sleepy relaxation. A wooden sign read Crosley Fish and Wildlife Area, and a large welcome building sat beside the lot, which wound down into a few gravel access roads, one heading to a maintenance area, another to what looked like a gun range, and a third that disappeared into the trees.

"Is this yer lunch spot?" Demoman asked as they passed the lot and onto the third gravel road, the shadows of the forest canopy enveloping them once again. The road wound along for a while, eventually coming to an end as the trees opened to reveal a lake with a small boat launch built on one side and a small parking lot beside.

"Figured a picnic by the lake would be nice," Sniper replied warmly, pulling into a space and throwing the ute into park.

"How'd ye even ken this place was here?"

Sniper shut off the engine, and smiled, a bit smugly. "May have spent a bit of time here once after a job in the area. The fishin' 'ere's aces."

"O' course ye'd remember a lovely fishin' spot in the middle o' the Indiana wilderness," Demoman chuckled. "Ye file that away? Aye someday I'll take me future husband here for lunch. He'll be right charmed."

Sniper's smug smile melted into something warm and fond. "So are you charmed?"

"I am charmed, aye."

"Good on ya, younger Mick!"

Demoman laid out a picnic blanket near the water as Sniper emerged from the ute with a shopping bag full of food and a pair of cold cans of beer. As he sat down, the bushman pulled out a few packages of lunch meat and cheese, some bread, and a bottle of mustard, as well as a couple of Demoman's hotel brownies.

"Cans and sweets? Mickey ye spoil me," Demoman teased, cracking his beer loudly.

"Gotta provide for me mate like a proper hunter," Sniper agreed, popping his open in turn.

With a snicker, Demoman opened the bread and turkey, and began assembling a sandwich. "Aye, stalkin' the delicatessen like a true predator. Ye ken the way tae a wolf's heart, bringin'..." he checked the cheese, "provolone back tae the pack."

Sniper tipped his hat with a wink. "Only the best sangers for me bloke," he said, making Demoman snort a snicker.

Their banter quickly faded into comfortable silence as they finished building and eating their sandwiches, the cool breeze off of the lake keeping the sun from being too bothersome and they enjoyed the warmth of the early afternoon. Eventually Sniper put away their leftovers and came back to join Demoman on the blanket, where he had already laid down for a cozy doze with a full belly.

"Nap time?"

"Just a wee cat nap in the sun," Demoman replied, reaching out to Sniper. "Give us a cuddle."

"You sound like me," Sniper snorted, acquiescing to his husband's demand regardless, laying down beside him and letting himself be scooped into the Scot's arms and spooned comfortably on their picnic blanket.

Demoman tugged Sniper's hat off and laid it atop them to block the sun, then buried his nose in the hair at the nape of his neck, inhaling his scent contentedly. "Mine," he murmured softly.

"Yours," Sniper replied, giving his hand a squeeze as he felt the bomber smile against him.

A light slumber claimed them, the gentle sussurus of a breeze tickling the leaves of the forest canopy against one another lulling them with its wordless song. Unfortunately, after about half an hour or so they found their peaceful nap disturbed as a smell made Demoman's nostrils flare and his guts churn.

He grimaced, grumbling muzzily as he was dragged from his nap by a stench somewhere between feces and rotten meat, and he groaned, "Mickey, cripe, I'm nae lettin' ye near deli meat again! Yer sleep farts are the stuff o' Revelation!"

Sniper snorted awake and recoiled, his hands flying to his nose to cover them. "Oi, don't you blame me for that! If me farts smelled that bad we'd be going to the bloody emergency room!"

Demoman sat up, casting about, trying to find the source of the absolutely nauseating aroma rolling over them like a cloying miasma, feeling his mouth salivate in preparation to possibly vomit. "Whatever it is it's bloody honkin'," Demoman said, his whole face scrunching up.

Sniper pulled himself upright, wincing against the stench. "Something must've up and karked it and been bakin' in the sun for hours, and the wind just now shifted to give us the honour," he grumbled, looking around. Then, he froze. "There."

Across the lot, just inside the darkness of the tree line, was a pair of glowing red eyes, watching them.

"Bugger," Sniper grunted, jumping to his feet with Demoman close on his heels as the owner of the eyes emerged into the light.

It was humanoid, but ape-like. Roughly seven feet tall and built of what had to be solid, broad muscle beneath a thick, shaggy, unkempt coat of matted dark brown fur. The beast bared massive, sharp, yellowed teeth in a threat display as it gripped the trees on either side of it and shook them, rattling the canopy and cracking wood as it began to hoot and holler in a deep, bellowing voice.

"Dinnae think it wants tae play," Demoman said, backing up a bit, his fingers flying to the buttons of his shirt and popping them one by one.

"Comin' to an open clearin' at a campsite, though, that's awful bold," Sniper replied, keeping his eyes on the monster before them, a good twelve or so metres away. "Oi!" he shouted, trying not to move too suddenly. "Didn't know this was your territory, mate! Sorry to bother you, we'll just be on our wa—" he ducked as a rock the size of his head barely missed slamming into him, instead clattering into the gravel beside the dock. "Crikey, I don't think the ol' clobber's up for a convo."

The words had barely left Sniper's mouth before the beast was bounding at him, running all fours, using its knuckles to propel itself like a gorilla as it roared, violent intent on its hate-twisted face. As Sniper turned to run, a black blur burst past him toward the beast, making him stumble back and nearly trip over Demoman's clothes piled haphazardly on the blanket.

Demoman surged forward, already transformed and snarling as he charged into the beast, colliding in a flurry of fur and claws and teeth. He bowled the beast to the ground, where it landed in the lakeside gravel on its back with a breathless grunt, only to be kicked away before he found his own footing. Before the beast had time to fully rise, Demoman was back on him, sinking his fangs into the beast's shoulder a moment before its meaty fist collided with his gut. The stench was unreal, but he dug in harder, determined to protect his mate.

Sniper snatched the blanket and Demoman's clothes up and dashed to the ute, ripping its door open and chucking the bundle of fabric onto the passenger side floor for now as he climbed inside. He slammed the door shut and ripped his rifle from its rack behind the seat, using the window frame to help stabilize himself as he put his eye to the scope and lined up a shot.

A red gash opened in the wake of Demoman's claws raking over the beast's chest, but a second strike was stymied as it grabbed his wrist and yanked his arm up high. Another punch landed in his ribs, making him yelp and snap at his face, barely missing the beast's cheek. He grabbed the beast's side with his free hand and dug in, piercing his claws deep and feeling the hot blood soak its thick fur. He earned a headbutt to the good eye for his troubles, rattling him. When he shook away the dizziness, a blue dot of light appeared on the creature's shoulder.

Demoman knew what that meant. He withdrew his claws from the beast's side and wrenched himself away to clear the line, and as the loud crack of the rifle's report ripped through the quiet forest, so too did a round rip through the meat of the beast's shoulder, blasting a sizable but not likely lethal exit wound out of the other side and sending the monster tumbling to the turf in agony, screaming and bleeding, fully disengaged from the bruised and battered werewolf it had battled.

Drawing himself up to his full height to tower over the supine creature, Demoman growled, that blue dot dancing around like a threat. In a skittering spray of gravel, the beast scrambled to its feet and bolted into the forest, running for its life in abject terror, leaving a trail of blood and stink in its wake.

When he was sure it had gone, Demoman calmly trudged to the tree line and vomited, his stomach unable to handle the stench and his mouth equally displeased by the flavour. Maybe biting hadn't been the best decision, heat of the moment be damned.

He whimpered as he heard Sniper's boots crunching in the gravel lot, and wiped his arm across his muzzle, looking pitifully down at his thankfully unharmed husband.

"You alright, love?" Sniper asked, checking him over.

Bruised, sore, but the worst of it was the fucking smell, which was now soaked into his own fur and making his stomach fairly percolate with nausea. He nodded, but whimpered still, the softest creak of a sound that had Sniper smiling in sympathy at how pathetic yet adorable it was.

"Don't think the cunt's comin' back, with a hole that size in 'is shoulder," Sniper assured him with a warm clap on the back, grimacing at the stink that was now surely on his skin. "Sorry you 'ad to transform."

Demoman shrugged a shoulder. It was fine. Who knew how sapient that creature was? A simple apology and deescalation could have been just fine. Unfortunately that great bastard was just looking to pick a fight. Maybe next time he'll think twice. At least the people he decided to start trouble with this time were equipped for such an encounter. Some poor fisherman wouldn't be so lucky.

With a sigh, the adrenaline beginning to subside, Sniper rubbed a slow circle on Demoman's back, trying to soothe him. "No offense, Pup, but you smell bloody awful," he said, a bit of mirth in his voice.

This time, Demoman's whimper was fully pathetic and shameless, turning his lone, mournful eye to the human by his side. He knew. And he was suffering.

"Gonna be stuck like this for an hour, and there's no way I'm lettin' you put that stink in the ute. Need fire to get that outta upholstery," Sniper chuckled. "I've got an idea."

Suds floated atop the lake surface in a ring around Demoman, the soft disturbance of the water making it lap against his sodden fur as he sat in the shallows, a soft grumble of comfort rising in his throat as Sniper's fingers worked into the thick fur at the back of his head and neck. It would be almost luxuriant if it weren't for the fact that the man was basically giving him a dog bath in a lake, pouring the entire contents of the hotel shampoos, conditioners, and soaps into his dense fur and working it in to try and work the stink out.

He wasn't sure if the smell was still there, his senses drowned out by the artificial vanilla stink of the hotel soap, but at least he wasn't nauseated anymore, so it seemed an improvement.

It didn't hurt that Sniper was naked behind him, pressed bodily against him as he worked the cleansers into his fur, a rag thrown over his shoulder, humming 'Waltzing Matilda'. It was almost nice, being doted on, having his husband touching him all over and holding him so close. It was intimate in a way he hadn't considered before, and as Sniper's fingers reached the top of his head and gently rubbed soap onto his ears and began to carefully cross onto his face and muzzle, he sighed contentedly.

"Like this, do you?" Sniper asked warmly, pressing his forehead to the crown of Demoman's soapy head with a smile.

Demoman grumbled out an affirmative sound, wiggling a bit for emphasis.

Sniper chuckled, reaching for a mug he'd brought with him and dipping it into the lake to collect some water. "Maybe I should do this when you're not a wolf sometime."

Demoman's tail wagged, splashing the water a bit and bapping Sniper in the ankle. The assassin couldn't help but find it cute as he clung to his lover and began pouring the water on him, rinsing the soap slowly out of his fur.

It took a bit of doing, but eventually Demoman was scrubbed and rinsed from the waist up, the smell seeming to have been chased away by the assault of soaps and shampoos. "Right, time to get below the waist," Sniper announced, letting go to let Demoman stand. "Gotta get the rest of your fluffy arse nice and fresh."

Demoman climbed to his feet and turned to Sniper, both of the mercenaries' eyes drawn downward to the rather insistent erection he had been hiding just below the water line.

Sniper grinned and looked up, meeting Demoman's eye. "I mean. We can always wait a little bit to finish up, yeah?"

---------

The door to the smoking room clicked shut softly, making Scout's eyes crack open. Spy had come back, a pair of water bottles in his hands and a fond smile on his lips as he looked over to where Scout lay on the couch, still naked and splayed out. He must have conked out, since he definitely didn't remember anything past when Spy had cleaned him up after they'd had a late afternoon frot there.

"Ah, you're awake," Spy chuckled, striding over and handing him a water. "I'd thought I might have killed you, the way you passed out post-coitus." He urged Scout to tuck his legs up and took a seat, cracking his own bottle and taking a sip.

"Field was real muddy today, so the fight wiped me. Hooves sink in way easier than feet," the faun chuckled, tugging himself up to sit and cracking his own bottle. He took a deep swig and settled back against the arm, taking a moment to just observe Spy.

The kitsune perched on the edge of the couch, having not fully committed to settling in. He'd put his shirt, trousers, mask, and shoes back on, but his tie, waistcoat, and jacket still remained thrown over his desk chair from earlier. His tails were out, as they usually were during off-hours these days. There was no reason to put in the extra effort to hide them around the team, and Spy had mentioned once or twice that his tails were the hardest part to change, like they didn't like to be hidden. Every other part of his form was second nature to take, but he actually had to pay at least a little attention to keeping his tails out of sight.

It was a well-known trait of kitsune, he'd explained. Many a folktale of his kind ended with a kitsune's disguise failing because their tails had refused to stay hidden, and outed them. Scout had found it funny that the same thing had happened to Spy, in the end. Though when asked, Spy had denied having ever heard any folktale about a kitsune failing to hide his tails specifically because he was getting the best rimjob of his life.

A smile crept across Scout's lips as he silently observed the man, the way his eyes fell closed as he drank, the bobbing of his adam's apple as he swallowed, the way one pinkie finger seemed to refuse to make contact with any vessel he carried, seemingly more by habit than decorum. He could never wrap his head around the idea that this man, so proper and put-together and elegant, was really a small woodland creature. A magical, supernatural one sure, but a fluffy little fox all the same.

"Hey Ren?"

Spy lowered the water from his lips, an eyebrow lifting in reply. He had yet to remark on his paramour's seeming need to shorten the already rather short names of his partners, but there was something about his chosen name being given a loving diminutive that made his chest feel light, so he chose not to interrogate any of it, instead.

"How 'come you don't hang out in your natural form? Like, we all know what you are."

A soft scoff left his nose. "For much the same reason I don't walk around on base without my mask. My identity and privacy are my own." After a moment, he added, "And as you know, this," he gestured to himself, "is my preferred form." His tails curled around his legs, protective. Scout knew the motion well now. He'd hit a little too close to something vulnerable, and had to tread carefully lest Spy get snippy and shut him out.

Being in love with him made him no less of a prickly fucker sometimes.

"You don't do it when you're alone?"

Spy's lips drew up into a line. "Sometimes. Every so often even I have to relax fully."

That brought a grin to Scout's face. Spy was so uptight all the time, he almost didn't believe that statement. "Bet takin' a nap like that's gotta be comfy as hell."

"There is something about being able to curl up into a ball—something a human body can't quite do—that is deeply restful, I'll admit."

There. The tension was beginning to drain away. Scout felt his footing in the conversation grow stronger. "Snipes told me once that he's seen it. Your natural form, I mean."

"Twice," Spy admitted. "Once because I was a mixture of exasperated and exhausted, and was simply fed up with controlling myself. It was after the incident where Engineer discovered my true nature. The other... well I'll be honest it was an entirely petty method to get my way. But when pet play is involved, the man with more experience being an animal is tempted to... flex that fact, a bit."

Scout made a note to ask Sniper about that sometime. "Man, that ain't fair."

"Demoman said the same, but he took it in stride, I assure you," Spy chuckled.

More questions to ask Sniper sometime. "No, man, I mean it ain't fair that Snipes gets to see that twice. I wanna see what you really look like."

Spy regarded Scout for a long moment, his expression unreadable, his eyes studying his face for a long moment. "I wonder if that's wise."

"Whaddaya mean? Ren, you're my boyfriend! Why does a guy you're fuckin' get to see the real you but not the guy you're in love with?"

That made Spy wince just the slightest bit. It was true, and he'd admitted as much out loud on multiple occasions, but it still didn't make someone else—even the object of his affections—telling him how he felt feel like a violation, like something presumptuous and insulting. His lips drew into a pout, partly frustrated with his own knee-jerk. This was Scout. This was Jeremy. This was the first person he'd earnestly confessed his love for since practically the turn of the damned century. He deserved better. He'd earned better.

"Sniper's used to sexual congress with all manner of monsters. Humanoid shape isn't a requirement for him. Merely sapience and consent. It's... simpler for him to reconcile my natural shape to the nature of our interactions."

Scout frowned. "You're usin' big words because you don't wanna answer the question."

Spy frowned in turn. Scout was getting too good at reading him. "It's easier for a man who fucks monsters as a hobby to deal with the fact that a man he's had sex with looks just like a normal animal in his natural form," he said plainly, a bit of distaste colouring his tone. "It's one thing to know it, but it's another to actually see it, and have to confront it."

Scout sat up, his shoulders hunching forward. "So what, you think I'm gonna get all freaked out if I see you as a fox 'cause then it'll hit home that I been fuckin' a fox, an' it'll make things weird?"

"In essence," Spy sighed, averting his eyes. He elected not to voice his worry that it could sour the relationship in its entirety.

Shaking his head, Scout scooted down the couch to sit beside Spy, wrapping his arms around him. He pressed a kiss to his shoulder, a warm smile crossing his lips. "After all the effort I put into gettin' you in my life? Come on. Plus I'd be a hell of a hypocrite if that weirded me out after my ass went into rut, an' all that shit with Engie."

A soft laugh puffed out of Spy's nose at that. "Fair enough, I suppose."

Scout slouched low, peeking up at Spy from behind his shoulder, his eyes sparkling hopefully.

Spy couldn't help but laugh. The bastard was entirely too cute for either of their own good. "Fine. But if—"

"Ren if it changes a damn thing you deserve to drag me outta respawn range an' put two in my skull," Scout interrupted, giving him a squeeze.

"I was going to say that if you pick me up without my permission I'll bite you, but I appreciate that," Spy chuckled, standing. He walked slowly to his desk, unbuttoning his shirt. Shedding the garment, he draped it over the chair with the rest of his clothing, kicking off his shoes and socks as well. He couldn't help but notice Scout's eyes upon him with rapt attention as he stripped, amused at the scent of pheromones. The faun was incorrigible. Once his trousers and underwear were off, he stood before Scout nude, tugging his mask free and running a hand through his hair to fix it. "You're sure you're prepared?" he asked, tails lashing nervously.

"Babe if you don't transform I'm just gonna tackle you and bend you over that desk; standin' in front 'a me naked an' hot like that. So it's probably a good idea you do it now before I get all riled up."

Spy snickered. "You were riled up from the moment I began unbuttoning my shirt."

"Well yeah, you're hot."

"So good of you to notice," Spy teased. He took a deep breath, pushing down his own anxiety as he let go of all of his control.

Fur erupted all across his body in an instant as he shrank, his skull elongating, his ears shifting upward, his arms growing, legs shrinking, feet lengthening in a flurry of changes as the human shape of a man became the vulpine shape of a fox. Unlike Demoman's transformation it wasn't gradual, it wasn't in stages, and it didn't last long enough to fully observe in detail. Merely two blinks of the eye passed in the time it took the kitsune's body to completely reorganize itself, and before Scout could gasp in surprise, a fluffy orange fox with three tails stood on the floor in front of the desk on four dainty black paws.

Spy sat down on his haunches, his three tails resting on the carpet behind himself, and looked up at Scout, supernatural intelligence hiding in his narrow, orange eyes. "Ore da," he said simply, with a mouth that should not have been able to form the words. "This is me."

Scout's mouth fell open as he took in the sight with wide eyes. He was a fox. With bright orange fur, a white muzzle, chest, and belly, black ears, and black legs. His tail ended in a ring of black with a fluff of bright white at its tip. His nose was black, twitching as he sniffed the air, and black fur rimmed his eyes and winged out at the corners, like dramatic eyeliner. His whiskers twitched as he waited for a response, ears slowly falling, pressing down with concern the longer the silence stretched.

This was a mistake. This was a mistake. This was a mistake this was a mistake this was a mistak—

"You're adorable."

Spy's head tilted to the side, ears immediately pricking up. "What?"

Scout threw his hands out to gesture to the fox before him. "You're freakin' adorable! Look at you! You're so fuzzy!"

Spy blinked, his whiskers twitching. "You're not... repulsed?"

"Holy shit Ren why would I be? You're the cutest thing I ever laid eyes on, an' that includes the time Snipes knit a little sweater an' put it on Archimedes!"

A soft huff of relief left Spy in the shape of a laugh. "Far be it for me to not take a compliment, I suppose."

"I dunno what you were worried about, man. It ain't like I fuck you when you look like this. I fuck you when you look like a real hot guy with three tails. Don't mean you can't work both looks," Scout chuckled. He pat the couch next to him. "I know you ain't a fan 'a hooves on your furniture, but I'm assumin' that don't go for your own claws. C'mere."

With a rueful shake of his head, Spy trotted over and leapt up onto the couch, trying not to begin regretting everything as he heard Scout bite back a girlish squeal. He'd never seen the man so taken by cuteness in all the time he'd known him, and it was remarkably funny, even if he worried this would inspire him to take him less seriously. "Of course not, they are my claws on my furniture. And I have hundreds of years of experience with them, as opposed to your approximate year."

Scout pouted a moment. "Yeah okay jeez. But man, look at you." He couldn't resist a grin. "I never seen a fox this close before. Only in pictures, or at the zoo. You don't see 'em in the city 'n all."

"Well, now you have seen one up close. As much as I qualify, being a supernatural creature."

"You're more of a fox than I am a deer."

"Touché."

Scout gripped his thighs, digging his nails into his fur to resist the urge to touch Spy, to pick him up and cuddle him and pet him and play with his little black paws. He wanted to poke his sharp little teeth and tease at the fluff sticking out of his ears. Instead, he studied him, taking in every little detail with wonder.

Spy could practically feel him vibrating next to him, and with a roll of his eyes, offered, "You can pet me."

"I can?"

"Scout, you're my boyfriend. You're allowed to touch me unless I say otherwise. I've already given you that permission."

Scout shrugged one shoulder. "I didn't know if that applied to every shape, or just the human ones."

A little smile tugged at Spy's muzzle, one with more muscles for expressions than any natural fox's would allow. The amount of respect Scout had gained for his boundaries never ceased to surprise him. Or touch his heart. "Thank you." He nodded, sitting up and fully facing the faun. "But yes, you're allowed."

With a grin, Scout finally reached out a hand to touch him, starting with a gentle caress of his head, fingers sifting into his fur and scritching between his ears. A soft little sound, a quiet vulpine sigh, left Spy as he leaned into the touch, relishing the nails against his scalp.

"You like that?"

"But of course. Getting your head scratched is a universal pleasure."

"Yeah, that's fair," Scout conceded, giving a final scritch before moving down, petting down the back of his neck where the fur grew thicker, denser, before smoothing out along his shoulder blades and down his back. Like a cat, Spy stood, lifting his haunches and turning to encourage Scout's fingers to the base of his tails, where he dug in for a good scratch. A vulpine whine left Spy's throat, and he arched into the touch.

"You're so soft," Scout marveled, his hand traveling down one of Spy's tails and closing as it slipped off the tip.

"And this is merely my summer coat," Spy bragged with a smug little tilt of his head as he circled around to face Scout again. "When the weather is cold again I will be much fluffier."

Scout grinned at the thought of a chunky-looking fluffy winter coat on Spy. "That's so freakin' cute. I'm gonna wear you like a scarf. Just wrap you around my shoulders."

"I supposed that's a more ethical way to get oneself a fox stole," Spy chuckled. He tapped Scout on the knee with one paw. "Would you be so kind as to cross your legs?"

Scout tucked his legs under himself, cris-cross. "Like this?"

"Merci," Spy hummed, and climbed into Scout's lap. He spun himself in a circle and laid down, curling up with his paws tucked under himself and his face buried in his tails. A smirk pulled at his muzzle as he heard a soft squeak leave Scout's throat.

"Oh my God."

"You stopped petting me," Spy grumbled, letting one tail flick out in annoyance before returning it to the others.

A wobbly smile crossed Scout's lips as he set back to work, scratching into the fluff at the back of his neck, behind one ear. "You takin' a nap on me?"

"You got to take a nap. It seems only fair I get my turn."

"I didn't get pets when I was nappin'."