Disclaimer: I do not own TF2.


#1:

Do Not Touch My Gun

Another headache was coming on, and the Medic was forced to reach into his pocket and swallow another large pill in order to remedy the pain. It wasn't hard to get a migraine when thinking about the idiots he worked with, and today was definitely one of those days. This morning, the Soldier had spotted a cockroach in the Medic's sleeping quarters (what he was doing in there, the doctor had no idea), and tried to kill it with his rocket launcher instead of doing the sensible thing when seeing such a nuisance. As a result, the Medic's room was destroyed and he had to share one with Heavy for the time being, since he was the only one who offered, and he had some extra space.

It was very hard to concentrate on work when something like that happened to ruin one's day, and the Medic made so many mistakes out of anger that he gave up quite suddenly on his research and retired early for the night. He also had to stop himself from shedding a single, manly tear as he passed by his ruined room. The bed was in pieces, the walls in shambles, the floor was barely there, and chances were the cockroach was probably still alive.

No one was in Heavy's room, but Sasha was in her little bed next to the Russian's huge one. The Medic thought at first that it was strange, but after a while he figured that it was probably just a quirk of his. The Heavy had set up the cot for him earlier that day, and it was ready for sleeping. Medic sat on the cot so he could relax, swinging his legs back and forth and staring more and more at the mini-gun. Curious as always, a few moments later he found himself kneeling down near it and inspecting it, at first with his eyes, and eventually with his hands. He was so engrossed in wondering what made it so special to Heavy, and why it had such importance in his eyes, that he didn't hear anyone approach until it was too late.

"What are you doing, Doktor?" The voice near him was a little ominous-sounding, and it made the Medic turn in surprise. The Heavy was standing by the doorframe with a strange look on his face. He didn't seem happy.

"I vas curious," the German began to explain. "You love zis gun so much, I vanted to see vhy."

"Oh." Heavy still seemed uncomfortable. "But I really do not like that you were touching her."

"Vhat?"

"No one touches my gun."

"As a doctor, I must learn more, and one way to do that iz by touching. But I am sorry. I seem to have offended you. I shall not do it again."

"Good." Suddenly, Heavy's mood seemed to improve quite dramatically. He walked over to the little bed and picked up the gun. Then, he used the sheets that had previously been covering it in order to clean it off. The Medic didn't know if he should have been offended or not; after all, he had been wearing his latex gloves, and it probably wasn't even dirty. The doctor returned to his cot, and an awkward silence ensued between them until Heavy spoke again.

"So, you are interested in real gun?" he asked.

"Real gun?"

"Your gun, it is not a real one. It shoots medicine, not bullet."

This comment served to ruffle the doctor's feathers, so to speak, and he attempted to retaliate as best as he could. "It may not shoot bullets, but ze medicine zat it does shoot iz still good for defending myself. And if not, I still have my bonesaw."

The Heavy began to laugh. His laugh was raucous and deep, and it was soon obvious that he was not going to stop laughing for a while. When he saw the Medic's angered face, his laughing finally died down into silence.

"Vhat, may I ask, iz so funny!" The Medic screamed, his face red.

"N-Nothing."

"Vell it was obviously somezing," he continued.

"It is just that you always need to be protected. That gun does nothink for you. You heal most of the time."

"S-So? They are still real guns."

"Whatever you say, Doktor." The Heavy raised his arms as though in defeat. He put his gun back in its bed, and then lay down to rest.

The Medic took it as his cue to go to bed as well. As he raised the sheets over him, he couldn't stop thinking about what his fellow teammate had said. He was so angry that he wanted to prove him wrong the next day; that he wasn't just a doctor, he was also a very good killer!

As he finally began to drift away to sleep, he heard the Heavy speak again. "But I like protecting you, Doktor. Makes me feel strong."

The Medic didn't reply, but the words made him smile. He decided that he would have to save his vengeance for another day.


A/N: UM HEY, since I obviously suck at finishing fanfictions, I decided to do a little oneshot series dedicated to the Medic and random people. LOL the ideas will be random and strange, but I hope you guys enjoy anyways. And I hope I can put a few more in here before I run out of the inspiration to write. XDD;;