This was written for TF2chan's Secret Santa. My prompt was to write some Medic/Scout fluff. So, I did!

Home Sick

When Scout's morning began, he felt strangely off. In fact, even getting out of bed was a bigger effort than usual. He scratched his nose, trying to shake off the weighted feeling that had settled in his bones. He yawned and stretched his arms, swallowing back the ache in his throat.

Despite all this, it didn't dampen his excitement when he looked out his window and discovered the entire compound had been dusted with a fresh blanket of snow. He threw off his sheets and slid out of bed, ignoring the icy chill of the cold floor on his bare feet.

The rest of the team was brimming with energy when they met for breakfast. There was something about first snow that brought high spirits with it. Already there were talks about snowmen, snow angels and Sniper's infamous yellow snowball fights. Scout tried to keep up with the revelry, attempting to shout over Soldier's longwinded story about his stint in the arctic tundra, on a self-initiated manhunt for that 'parcel-pushing terrorist', Santa Claus.

Scout's voice gave out on him, and was reduced to a weak rasp. He abandoned his attempts at conversation and tried to sooth his throat with a few sips of orange juice. He leaned back in his seat, disgruntled that his body was acting up like this. He muffled a few coughs in his fist.

Medic surprised Scout as he leaned past the young man to reach a jug of coffee. "Oh, you are not feeling well, herr Scout?"

"Feel fine." Croaked Scout as he suppressed an urgent need to hack and splutter.

"I have simply noticed a few preliminary symptoms that would indicate a viral infection."

"Hey! I ain't got no infection, alright. I feel fantastic." Scout poured himself a large cup of cocoa, simply so he'd have something to warm his hands against.

"Ja, it certainly would be unfortunate if you did. To think! You would have to miss out on so much fun. Our battles in the snow are always so exciting." Medic pushed his glasses up his nose and stared wistfully into nowhere.

Scout was used to the Doctor's eccentricities, and was determined to ignore his professional advice. "Yeah, well, I ain't missing out on nothin'. You can count me in for the fight today."

Medic tutted and helped himself to another plate of breakfast bratwurst. "The cold weather will only exacerbate your condition. Do not say I did not warn you."

"Okay, thanks Ma, I'll try to remember that." Scout's attitude might have had more impact if an explosive sneeze didn't stun the table into silence. He hastily wiped his dripping nose on his sleeve, avoiding the stares of his teammates.

"Gesundheit," said Medic, buttering his bagel with a smile.

The chill of the wind stung his cheeks, and his head felt like it was full of sawdust. The hubbub of the battlefield was muted through the fuzzy feeling in his brain, and the tickle in his throat had now become a heated coil of barbed wire. Scout groaned as he trudged though the snow, barely aware of the commotion around him.

Cold sweats began to radiate from his core. His slow pace ground to a halt, until he could only stand stock-still, ankle deep in snow, shivering in the middle of the battlefield.

"Get a move on, private!" Screamed Soldier as he raced past Scout. "Thinking never won a war!"

Scout wrapped his arms around his thin body. His skin was on fire, but he'd never felt as cold in his life. The woolly scarf around his neck did little to keep out the bitterness of winter.

A rubber hand gripped his shoulder, and a few muffled words roused him from his haze. He turned his head to see a shiny black gasmask staring back at him in concern.

"H-hey Mumbles..." Murmured Scout as he tried to keep his teeth from chattering out of his head.

"Mmph mmm?"

"Nah man. I just… I just gotta rest for a minute. I'll be fine." Scout turned to face Pyro. A gentle dusting of snow was resting on his rubber-encased shoulders. Scout looked down to see that the heat of Pyro's flamethrower muzzle had melted a small patch on the ground.

"Hey, you think you could fire that thing up?" He waved he hands close to his body. "Somewhere around here would be great."

Pyro tilted his head in confusion.

"Y'know. Spy check."

"Oooh. Hudda haa!"

One burst of flame later, Scout sighed in relief at the intense heat washed over him. He held his hands up to the fire, instructing Pyro to keep it going (you could never be too careful when a Spy was around). He was just getting comfortable when an ear-splitting explosion threw him to the ground.

He opened his eyes to see a smoking crater. Gibs of the former Pyro rained around him in a shower of flesh and shredded rubber.

Right on cue, a blustery gale stripped away any warmth Scout had gleaned from Pyro. "Fuuuck!" He cursed, pushing himself into an upright position. Twenty more aches and pains had hitched a ride on his body.

"Guts and glory!" Bellowed the opposing Demoman, raising his stickybomb launcher over his head in conquest. He ran off, leaving a trail of boot prints behind in the snow.

Scout sat in the frost, bemoaning this unfortunate turn of events. Soft snowflakes drifted down, already beginning to cover the smoking crater. He coughed, and shakily stood on his feet. As he squinted through the snow, trying to distinguish the blurs of activity around him, he rubbed his chilled hands together, puffing into them in an attempt to salvage some warmth. His breath left white fog in the air. He finally mustered enough motivation to begin a slow jog, searching for the closest dispenser to huddle against.

It was going to be a long day.

The battle was over and the team had reigned victorious. The locker room was a frenzy of backslapping and congratulatory man-hugs. Scout sat away from the commotion, slumped on the bench, with ice melting in his hair. He felt like death.

Engineer was the first to notice. He pushed his goggles up and looked down at Scout with a raised eyebrow. "Son, you look greener than a tree snake."

"Mm fine…" Said Scout through laboured breaths. In the humidity of the locker room, he still felt like he was sitting in liquid nitrogen. His throat had become so inflamed it hurt to swallow. Even talking to Engineer was an effort.

Engineer looked unconvinced, but didn't push the issue any further. "Well, if you say so…" He wandered away, leaving Scout alone to stew in his malaise.

Scout's eyes fluttered shut. All he wanted was a warm bed and a moment's peace…

"Laddy!" Demoman pulled a friendly arm around Scout's neck and yanked him close, unconcerned with Scout's delicate condition. "I'll be whippin' up a batch ah me famous eggnog scrumpy! Ye'll be a new man when ah'm done with ye." He gave Scout a hearty shake, rattling his head from side to side like a ragdoll.

"Egh," whimpered Scout.

Solider joined in, prodding Scout in the side with the end of his shovel. "You should be ashamed of yourself, private! That was the laziest performance I've ever seen on a battlefield, and I've been to France."

"Uhg," Scout's head was splitting apart.

The voices of the men were all morphing into one incessant buzz. It was drilling a hole in Scout's skull. It was only a slight distraction from the spinning room and the hot flushes. He brought his legs up and rested his head on his knees, trying to escape from the cacophony.

He focused on deep breathing, and after what felt like an eternity, he was finally alone in the room. With waning strength, he stood up, leaning against the wall for support.

He couldn't stop shivering. He took delicate steps to the doorway, trying to get some control over his tunnelling vision. He clutched at the doorframe, unable to make his legs move any further. He stared down the empty hall. It stretched out for miles ahead of him. What was a trivial distance in health had now become an impassable chasm. He slumped to the ground in defeat, laying his feverish head against the cool tiles.

He curled into a ball, powerless to stop old memories flooding his mind. He thought about his mother, who, even with seven other children, still had the time to tuck him into bed and comfort him when he was sick. He remembered his petulance, and insistence that he was old enough to look after himself. Her slender hands would check his temperature, and the flowery smell of her perfume secretly comforted him. Occasionally her manicured fingers would pinch him on the cheek when he gave her sass.

He had never felt such a desperate longing to be back home.

Scout shut his eyes to the light of the hall and let a fretful sleep take a hold of him.

Scout was distantly aware of being lifted. Strong arms were gently tucked around his waist and legs. He kept his eyes closed, allowing this stranger to do what they wished. He was too weak to protest. A low, confident voice spoke soothing words that he didn't understand, and he leaned his head against the warm body, drifting in and out of an unconscious haze.

The rest of the journey escaped Scout's memory. When he opened his eyes again he found himself lying in a soft bed, with a thick blanket draped over his fragile body. He shivered and coughed, remembering just how wretched he felt. He attempted to push himself into a sitting position, before a firm hand pushed him back down.

"Lie back down, you silly boy! With the temperature you have, I am surprised you have not combusted."

Scout obeyed. He lay his head back down on the pillow and let a cool cloth be placed upon his burning forehead. He turned his head to side, not recognising the dim room he was in. A flickering candle on a nearby desk was the only illumination the room offered. Perched on a chair, wringing out another cloth in a silver basin, sat Medic.

"Doc?" Scout croaked, taking a few painful swallows with his parched throat.

"Ja. It is lucky I found you. Really, lying in the middle of the hall? What were you thinking? If I hadn't moved you the cleaners would have had to vacuum around you."

Despite his chastising, Medic seemed cheerful. He was no longer wearing his lab coat or gloves, and had rolled his sleeves back in a casual manner. Scout couldn't help but notice how at ease the Doctor looked without his medipack weighing him down. Medic finished wringing out the cloth and put the basin to the side.

"C'mon. Ya didn't have to help me."

Medic sighed, turning to Scout and leaning closer to give him a proper examination. "Stubborn as always. Despite what the Medical Board says, I don't always want to harm people." He retrieved a long glass thermometer and waved it at Scout. "Now, if you are willing to cooperate, I would like to take your temperature once more."

Scout conceded that it was probably for the best, so he opened his mouth for the doctor.

"Oh no," Medic waggled a finger. "This is a rectal thermometer."

The look of sheer panic on Scout's face sent Medic into hysterics. After a few hearty chuckles he was able to calm himself. He pushed up his glasses to wipe tears from his eyes. "Oh, that one never gets old."

Scout let out a groan of aggravation. He was not in the mood for jokes. "Jeeze, Doc. Can you give a guy a break?"

"Ach, I am sorry. Sometimes I just can't resist." When Medic had won back some of Scout's trust, he placed the thermometer on Scout's tongue, assuring the young man it was the proper orifice, and then rifled through a draw to pull out a long silver stethoscope.

Scout moved the thermometer around his mouth and sank back into the blankets with a sigh. The cloth on his head was a godsend to his broiling head, but he still had to wrap his arms around his chest, fighting off conflicting shivers of cold rippling down his skin. He was at that point he noticed he wasn't wearing a shirt. He ran a hand down his bare chest just to confirm. Save for his boxer shorts, Scout was naked.

"Seriously man; you stripped me?"

Medic leaned over Scout, stethoscope in hand. Its metallic surfaced glinted in the dim candlelight. "Well you didn't expect me to put you to bed in those clothes? You were soaked."

"Yeah, but… you could've…" Scout had run out of any more enthusiasm, or valid points to argue. He slumped his head against the pillow in frustration. "Whatever."

"What? No contradictions? Ach! You must be sicker than I thought. Please pull down your blanket so I can check your breathing."

Scout begrudgingly complied, sucking in a breath as cold air wafted against his over-sensitised skin. He fought the urge to throw the blankets back over himself as he allowed Medic to press the bell of the instrument against his sternum.

"Breathe in slowly," instructed Medic.

Scout did as Medic said, and took a long rattling breath inwards. He flinched as Medic traced a hand across his chest, holding the stethoscope steady. Scout used the moment to take a surreptitious glance at the doctor. The low light of the room drew dark shadows across his face, bringing out the definition in his cheekbones. Streaks of grey peppered his temples, merging into well-combed hair. Scout would never describe another man as 'handsome', but Medic did possess a certain dignity that he couldn't deny.

"And breathe out."

Scout exhaled, and was suddenly struck with an uncharacteristic bout of self-consciousness. Worried that his staring was getting a little too obvious, he turned his attention to the rest of the room, trying to figure out where exactly he was.

He moved the thermometer around his mouth, finding his voice. "Where the hell am I?"

"My bed. Your own room was my first choice, but, judging by the state of it, it may have something to do with the condition you're in now."

Scout ruffled with indignity, but couldn't summon the motivation to defend himself. It occurred to him just how strangely intimate it was to be tucked into another man's bed. The distinctive smell of menthol was imbued in the sheets. He looked past the side table and saw a row a jars lines up along a shelf. He quickly realised they were specimen samples. Unidentifiable body parts floated in ether, reinforcing the fact that this could only be Medic's room.

"Well," began Medic as he put away his stethoscope, "it isn't pneumonia. Somehow I think you will live another day." He plucked the thermometer from Scout's lips and looked at it with a furrowed brow. "But your temperature is still high. This is concerning. You should rest tonight and I will check again in the morning."

Scout let Medic pull the blankets back up, but was taken aback when Medic reached out and stroked his cheek. It was unexpected, but in Scout's delirium, oddly comforting.

They looked at each other for a lingering moment before Medic withdrew his hand, breaking the spell. "You are dehydrated. I will prepare something."

Scout coughed and rolled to his side, bundling the blankets around his head, trying to shake off that strange feeling jolting through him. He watched from his cocoon as Medic poured a fizzing orange concoction into a tall glass. He approached the bed again, and to Scout's ire commanded he sit up to drink it.

"Do not let the colour fool you. The taste is actually repulsive. However, it will hasten your recovery, so I suggest you drink it all."

With great effort, Scout sat up, his head spinning with the movement. He accepted the glass, but before he could even bring it to his lips the overpowering stench of it sent him reeling. "Jesus, Doc! Whose gym socks did you squeeze this from?"

"It is a combination of ginger, camomile and pseudoephedrine. Drink it before it goes flat. The bubbles are the best part!"

Scout paused between gags as he managed to swallow the vile liquid. He slammed the empty glass back on the side table and threw Medic a heated glare. "Pass me some water will ya? I gotta get this taste outta my mouth. Yech!"

Despite it's astringent flavour, Scout did detect a noticeable change in his body. A sense of warmth washed over him, calming his feverish shivers. He lay back in his bed as he adjusted to this pleasant change. "Actually," he slurred, letting the medicine take effect "that ain't half bad."

Medic smiled. "I thought it might help. It is a family recipe passed down by my Grandmother's pharmaceutical company."

After that, Scout didn't have much more to say. Medic replaced the cloth on his head and then set about tiding up while Scout rested. He curled back up as he watched Medic go about his business. He was able to observe the peculiar mannerisms about the Doctor that, in the commotion of his life, he had never stopped to notice before. Medic was actually quite endearing when he wasn't dissecting people on the battlefield. He hummed a wistful tune, placing medical instruments back in draws before settling down in a chair to flick through a well-worn paperback. A violin was propped up against his seat, alluding to a deeper story behind his past.

Scout drew his attention to the rest of the bedroom. If you overlooked the medical paraphernalia and the specimen jars, it almost had a homely charm. Medic certainly had good taste in furniture. A dark mahogany desk sat as the grand centrepiece of the small room, complimented by a tall tailor-made bookshelf with tomes of medical encyclopaedias. The faded floral wallpaper reminded him of his mother's house back in Boston. Her taste in fashion extended to her choices in interior design and he was slightly regretful of his loud-mouthed criticism of it. A pang of homesickness hit him again, and he pulled blankets tighter around his body. Scout's attention returned to Medic. He was grateful to have some company.

Scout didn't know how much time had passed. He was simply content to watch Medic from the safety of his bed covers. Soon his eyes drooped shut and he fell into a shallow sleep. The click of a door latch was enough to rouse him, and he blinked a bleary eye open to see what was happening.

Medic had his hand on the door handle, preparing to leave.

"Hey," Scout reached an arm out from under his blankets to beckon Medic. "Where you goin'?"

Medic turned around, clearly surprised that Scout was still awake. "It is late. I'll spend the night in my office. It is comfortable enough."

"Nah, don't go yet. It can't be that late. Stay a little longer... We can talk about stuff."

Medic sighed, glancing down at his watch to keep an eye on the time. "You really must sleep if you want to recover quickly."

Scout knew that Medic was right, but the sudden onset of this illness had crumbled his defences, exposing vulnerability he always tried so hard to never show. A childish melancholy came over him at the thought of being alone.

"Don't. Don't go…"

Medic hovered at the door, not giving and answer to Scout's pleas.

Scout was struck with embarrassment at how pathetic he must have sounded. He rolled over, facing the wall. He buried his face in the pillow. "I getcha, man. I gotta rest. I guess I'll see you in the morning or something."

The medicine was wearing off, and Scout could feel the shivers creeping back. He knew he had a long night ahead of him. He wrapped his hands around his bare chest, wallowing in self-pity.

The bed suddenly dipped and creaked, interrupting his pity-party. He looked over in confusion.

Medic sat on the end on the bed, taking off his boots and socks. "If you insist I stay, then I suggest you move over. There is enough room for both of us."

Scout blinked, not entirely understanding what was happening. "You… you're gonna sleep with me?"

Medic casually unbuttoned his shirt. "Yes. Unless you have a better idea."

Scout's mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish. "But… what? You'll get sick."

"Believe me, I have had worse."

Before Scout could raise objection, Medic pulled up the covers and slipped in beside him. He was shirtless, but thankfully kept his slacks on for modesty.

Scout inched over to make some room for the Doctor, his fever adding to the surreal nature of the situation. He blinked in a haze, watching as the Medic made himself comfortable. "This is weird," Scout admitted.

Medic carefully folded his glasses and placed them on the night table before he rolled over to face Scout. He was no more than a breath's distance away from the young man. "If it really make you that uncomfortable, I can leave."

Scout gave that a moment's consideration. "Nah. I guess it's okay…"

"This is good." Medic smiled. "At least now I can monitor your condition. I won't be far if you need me."

Scout couldn't help but let the corner of his mouth turn up in a small smile of his own. "Thanks, Doc." As an afterthought he added: "but no touching, alright! I don't want this shit getting creepy."

Medic raised his hands in defence. "I am a consummate professional."

Scout wasn't sure what 'consummate' meant, but nonetheless he felt a little more assured. He relaxed, secretly pleased to have the company.

It wasn't long before they were both settled and content. They made idle talk, before they both grew too tired to continue. Medic snuffed out the candle and they settled in to sleep. The room was quiet, only broken by the sound of the winter wind rustling past the window.

True to his word, Medic didn't make any unwarranted attempts to close the distance between them. However, as Scout tried to fall into unconsciousness, his shivers grew increasingly severe. He tugged the blankets closer around him, unconcerned if he was stealing them away from Medic.

"Scout, you are cold?"

Scout didn't reply, but his chattering teeth was answer enough.

He jumped when he felt the touch of warm skin against his back. A strong arm wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer. Medic spoke softly. "I know I am breaking the rules, but this may bring you some relief."

Scout was not in a condition to argue. He accepted the contact, allowing Medic's body heat to surround him. After a few minutes his shivers were little more than slight trembles. His initial apprehension was calmed by the rhythm of Medic's breathing. Eventually he couldn't even cling to the most stubborn of reservations. He melted into Medic's embrace, placing his own hand on the Doctor's and pulling it closer, using him like a human blanket.

"Don't tell anyone about this." He mumbled.

Scout heard a quiet chuckle behind him. "I won't say a word." Medic squeezed Scout's hand for reassurance.

After that, sleep came quickly.

Fever crept into Scout's dreams. It wrapped around his thoughts like sinister tendrils, distorting his thoughts. Nightmarish visions raced through his head, plunging him into an endless abyss. Reality was a distant memory - a tiny pinprick in an ocean of madness. Scout thrashed, trying to pull himself out of the chaos. He cried out, terrified that he would be trapped forever.

"Scout!"

Scout's eyes flew open. He sharply inhaled in shock.

Medic loomed over him. He held Scout by the shoulders, doing his best to control Scout's frantic movements. "You have been dreaming. Calm yourself."

Scout was overcome with disorientation. Sweat beaded on his forehead. "Who? Where?"

"You are in my room. You are sick. Now please calm down. Injuring yourself would be highly inconvenient."

Scout slumped back in the bed, overwhelmed with relief. His foggy mind pieced together enough of the clues to remember that he was currently in bed with Medic and that he was safe. Despite all this, his heart continued to race. The horrifying visions of his dream were still fresh in his memory.

Medic pressed a hand against his heated forehead. "Ach! You are burning up. I will fetch you some water."

He moved to leave, but Scout was quick to grab him by the wrist, holding him in place. "You're a good guy, Doc." He said, staring up at the older man with half-lidded eyes.

"That is very flattering. Now if you don't mind, I would like to get up."

Scout didn't budge. Instead, he moved his legs so they were on either side of Medic's waist. It was a weak attempt to maintain contact, but somehow Medic was allowing it. "I mean it, man. No one else would do this for me…" Scout's mind was still cloudy with the fading memory of his dreams. The presence of another warm body pressed against his was too comforting to let go of just yet.

Medic was patient, but clearly unsure what to do about Scout's odd behaviour. "Scout, you are unwell."

Scout wasn't listening. The body above him was mesmerising. In his feverish state of mind he though nothing of reaching out to wrap his arms around that broad chest just to get closer. He pulled them both into an embrace, breathing Medic in. He wanted to be enveloped by him.

After some hesitation, Medic let his own arms slide around Scout's small body, accepting the affection. "Dummkopf," he sighed, stroking Scout's hair.

Scout pressed his head against Medic's shoulder, basking in that blissful moment. Before Medic could stop him, Scout was pressing his lips against his jaw, kissing a path to the Doctor's mouth.

Medic cupped Scout's face, gently trying to ease him away from these unsolicited advances. "You are not coherent..."

Scout stubbornly continued. He closed his eyes, smelled Medic's skin and leaned forward to brush their lips together.

It was brief, but Medic didn't pull away. When it was over, he tilted Scout's chin up to look at him thoughtfully. He ran a thumb across the young man's flushed cheek in a small display of tenderness. Scout looked back at him, entranced. "Lie down. I will fetch you some water."

Scout acquiesced. He fell back into the mattress, pulling the blankets around him. The springs creaked as Medic got up, and suddenly the bed was a whole lot emptier. Scout's head swam with confusion, not entirely certain about what had just happened.

Before long, Medic had returned with another fizzing glass of liquid. Scout was quick to drink it down, hardly bothered by its bitter flavour. Medic must have put something else in it, because Scout was immediately overcome with lethargy. He let unconsciousness wipe his mind as he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Scout cracked his eyes open, and was greeted by the morning sun streaming through the window. He slowly sat up, trying to gain bearing in these unfamiliar surroundings. He quickly discovered that he was alone in the room. Scout couldn't help but feel a little disappointed by that. He stretched his arms and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

He felt lighter. The flu still lingered, but was only a vestige of its intensity the night before. He smacked his lips together, desperate for a drink. He looked around, noticing how the room wasn't quite so mysterious when it was exposed to the light of day.

He was surprised when the door clicked open. Medic stood in the doorway, carrying a silver tray of food in one hand. He seemed equally surprised to see Scout up and about so soon.

"Why are you up? Lie back down immediately!"

Scout didn't make any motions to obey the Doctor. He yawned and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Seriously Doc. I ain't dying."

Medic walked over to Scout, placing the tray of breakfast to the side. He huffed at Scout's obstinacy. "How do you expect to get better if you are running around everywhere?"

Scout thought Medic was overreacting a little. He rubbed his eyes, trying to remember what exactly happened last night. All he could really recall was the severity of the fever and the vague memory of Medic sharing the bed with him. He tensed as Medic pressed a hand against his forehead, moving closer to check his temperature.

An uncertain flutter ran through Scout. He looked down, not quite prepared to face Medic.

"Doc," He mumbled, not meeting Medic's eyes. "I didn't do anything embarassin' last night, did I?"

Medic continued to check his temperature, unmoved by the question. "You were sick. That is all there is to say."

"Oh."

Medic pressed his fingers against Scout's throat, checking his lymph nodes before pulling away. He folded his arms in thought. "You certainly do seem better this morning. And so quickly too! I suppose that is the privilege of youth."

Scout wiggled his legs, feeling inexplicably awkward in Medic's presence. "You know," he started, flicking his eyes up to glance at the Doctor. "I ain't completely better. I might even have to stay here another night." He coughed for dramatic effect.

Medic raised an eyebrow, but the sly smile on the corner of his lips said enough. "Yes. I think this would be for the best. Doctor's orders."