Chapter Text
“Heavy. Here. Now,” A Spanish accented voice said from his left, the creaking of a door and the rustle of paper on a clipboard audible in the quiet. “I might as well get this over with. It’s too late to deal with your antics right now.”
Heavy looked at the small man standing in the swinging doorway of the medbay, the Combat Medic glaring at him with a look that gave away his annoyance with having to heal the Heavy, especially at such a late hour.
They had only been working together for about two, three months now?
He had learnt that Medic was three things, one, methodical with his craftsmanship, two, was soft-spoken but also snappy at times, and three, a asshole who was too cocky out on the field and who would withhold medical support if you got on his bad side.
To put it plainly, he was a little brat with a coffee addiction and a mean streak.
But that’s what made him special in Heavy’s eyes
“Comin’, Doc,” He grumbled, holding his arm at a more comfortable angle as Medic stepped out of the way to let him in, his cigarette hanging limply from his mouth. “You don’t have to act like healin’ me is givin’ ya a fucking migraine.”
The doctor tsked, glaring at him as he walked Heavy to his exam table, looking over his clipboard. “I would much rather be asleep right now but seeing how you managed to lose an arm wrestling match with Sniper, of all people, I have to deal with cleaning up the mess.”
Heavy, growling under his breath at his doctor’s reminder of the reason why he was here, looked away from his face. He peeked over the clipboard to see what the doctor was looking at, but he quickly gave up on that. It was written in barely legible Spanish. Motherfucker.
“I’m still your team leader, Medic,” Heavy gritted out, sitting on the table’s edge as Medic pulled over his rolling table filled with his examination equipment and ashtray. “I can fire you on the spot right now.”
Medic just moved his cigarette to the left side of his mouth without even taking it out, giving him a look as he not-so-gently grabbed the larger man’s arm. Heavy hissed in pain, cursing out as Medic popped his arm back into place.
“¿Te dolió, hombre guapo?” Medic teased in a arsenic-laced tone, rubbing the tender muscles on his arm in a comforting manner.
“English?” Heavy grunted out, pulling his now only sore arm from Medic’s soft grip.
Medic scoffed, pulling his cigarette from his mouth and flicking off some ash into the cart’s astray, placing it back into his mouth as he turned around to grab a pill bottle. “I don’t think you deserve to know, Heavy.”
Heavy simply glared, though not as much as he was before, anger tempered by Medic’s demeanor shifting from contempt to fondness. His arm still ached, and his brain was still kinda fuzzy with alcohol but he was extremely aware as Morison watched the flutter of Rubén’s eyelashes against his tanned cheekbones while his small, bandaged up hands unscrewing the bottle of pills with grace.
“These should help with the pain you’ll be feeling tomorrow,” Medic said dully, pulling Heavy’s face close by his sideburns to drop two tablets into his slightly open mouth, pressing them on his very useless tongue. “Traga, mi hombre estúpido. No mastique.”
Though Heavy didn’t understand what the small medic was saying, he understood what he was supposed to do.
He swallowed thickly, coughing a little at having to swallow them dry as he felt the hand that he hadn’t realized been resting on his chest slipped away, Medic turning his back on him, his tattoos, the ones on his back on clear display to his leering eyes. “Thanks, Doc..”
“No problem, Heavy,” Medic replied without even turning around to look at him, pushing his cart away and taking a long drag from his cigarette, smoke thick as he exhaled.
Morrison’s been this close to Rubén before, impossible not to when he’s a giant and Rubén is his doctor but still, he knew each part of Medic’s face by heart but his back? That was unsung territory. Yes, the smaller man would wear a tanktop or a very sheer white button down shirt sometimes, but seeing them in all of their glory? That’s special.
He let his eyes wander down the curve of his shoulder blades, appreciating the rich tattoos as they shifted over lean muscles.
Constantly fighting and carrying heavy med kits kept Rubén in good shape it seemed, he had a strong back and nicely corded arms, but he still had that edge of daintiness and youth in him, especially with how expressive his eyes were.
He wanted to trace each scar, each bump, each tattoo with his hands and then his tongue. He was sure the doctor was sensitive, so he’d twitch and jump at each drag. To feel how Rubén would squirm and whimper after each so gentle movement against his body, begging— no demanding— in that hotty voice of his for Morrison to just—
Heavy ran a hand over his short hair, looking away as the faintest of blush colored his cheeks, now very aware of being alone with the combat medic, in his medbay, in the dead of night.
Medic wrote a few more things, the pen working quickly as the report was written up and boxes were checked off.
“You can leave now,” Medic said, putting down his clipboard and finally stubbing out his cigarette. “I don’t like loitering in my medbay.”
Heavy blinked, getting up slowly as Medic turned to face him, a deep frown on his bearded yet young looking face.
“Go on now, go! It’s late and I really like my sleep to not be interrupted again.”
Heavy was soon led out the swinging door, pushing him out with a quick “buenas noches” and locking the door as soon as the heavy was back in the hall.
“What a weird fucking guy..”
A few weeks later, Heavy and Medic found themselves on the 2 Fortresses Bridge, smoking cigarettes after another successful mission against RED. Heavy was tired, sore, and Medic had simply just let him join him for his after-mission cigarette, instead of cursing him out.
Medic was leaning against the wall of the bridge, looking down at the inky, cold river, tapping ash over the edge as he took a nice, long drag from his cigarette. Heavy just watched Medic with heavy lidded eyes, standing right next to him, nursing his own cigarette in his far too large hand.
They were still in their full kits, only Heavy’s goggles at his forehead and Medic’s gas mask hanging by one strap. Medic looked up at him, out of the corner of his eye and smirked around his cigarette.
“I’m glad you didn’t die today,” Medic took a long drag, little smoke clouds expelled from his nostrils. “The new respawn system is quite… painful.”
Heavy looked at Medic’s tired eyes as he took a drag from his own cigarette. “That much, huh?”
Medic’s eyes drifted back to the water below them, chewing on the butt of his cig as he thought for a response. He just simply nodded, not looking away from the water as he stubbed out his cigarette “accidentally” on Heavy’s hand.
“FUCK!” Heavy growled out in pain, dropping his own cigarette into the river as he grabbed his hand. Medic didn’t jump at the loud curse, just looked at the water before flicking the butt into the river, washed away by the current. “THE FUCK THAT WAS FOR?!”
“For being concerned about me,” He simply said, licking his lips as he just continued to lean over the bridge’s brick wall, watching the water. He looked up at him for a split second, a mocking pout on his lips and eyes that gleamed with poison, chuckling softly at him. “It’s my job to be concerned about you; not the other way around.”
Heavy hissed in pain, looking down at the burn. It wasn't too bad, just a little chard but it stung like hell and he could smell the burnt flesh.
Medic continued to laugh, pulling his medkit close and Heavy’s hand towards him. Medic climbed onto the ledge, sitting comfortably as he pulled Heavy’s hand into his lap. He plucked a little bottle from the kit, along with a cotton swab, pouring some of the liquid onto the swab with a soft tsking sound.
“You’re my friend.. ahh ,” Heavy hissed out as the rubbing alcohol stung his burn. “Am I not allowed to care about ya?!”
Medic glared at him, not in annoyance or even in that gentle fondness; this was actual anger and what must have been hurt in his pretty hazel green eyes. “You can. I just don’t want to be treated as if I’m weak just for being a medic.”
“That’s not what I meant-”
Medic, who was now tearing some gauze off its roll, snapped his attention to Heavy’s eyes, glare ever present and noticeable. “Then what did you mean? Hm?”
“I-I..” Heavy faltered, looking away as Medic just sighed, pressing the gauze to the burn and taping it down with some medical tape he, of course, had on hand.
Medic still held his hand even after stating the completion of his work, and after the burning sensation had stopped. They stood, or in Medic’s case sat, still as a short breeze hit them both. Heavy shivered, Medic started whispering something in Spanish, rubbing the chill out of Heavy’s knuckles and fingers.
“You mean a lot to the whole team, and to me, Ru.” Heavy finally muttered, looking down at Medic, who was still muttering to himself. Medic got quiet, letting an exhale out as he looked up at him slowly, eyes all soft and warm in a way that Heavy couldn’t help but love.
The way 2 Fortresses was designed didn’t let the sun shine down on the bridge, the ridges blocking all the light. He wished he could see how the setting sun would make Rubén’s skin and eyes glow. Speaking of which, it was sundown now, they’d have to go back inside their base soon. “I think.. I think we should start headin’ back, a warm shower and somethin’ to eat sounds great right now.”
He made a move to pull his hand from Medic’s slack grip, to grab his Assault Cannon that had been resting next to his boots and leave but Medic stopped him, holding his hand closer to his chest as he looked up at him with such a look of pure adoration.
“¡C-creo que te amo!” Rubén breathed out so quickly as he held onto the large hand tightly, like he had just realized something and had to blurt it out, the faintest smile on his lips. Morrison looked down at him with a confused expression, only the sound of the water below them and the wind above them was breaking this unbearable silence.
“What?” Morrison stated dumbly.
“I-,” Medic’s eyes flicked away, dropping the heavy hand before looking and turning away from him, running a hand over his face and to his mask. He reattached it to the other clip, hiding his face once more away from Heavy’s gray-eyed stare. “Nevermind, forget about it. Buenas noches, Morrison.”
Medic left quickly, grabbing his medkit and single barrel shotgun as he not-so-subtly speed-walked back to BLU base, and Heavy could’ve sworn he saw tears in the Medic’s usually such beautiful eyes.
Medic was ignoring Heavy, that much was clear.
He wouldn’t even look him in the eye anymore than he needed to. A week of constantly being ignored by Medic had made him question some things about his recent behavior that could’ve caused the doctor’s new treatment of him.
Sure he dislocated his arm in the middle of the night while drinking and had to wake him up to fix it, and he had clearly made him upset on the bridge with his response to whatever the medic had said in his first language, but he still couldn’t understand why Medic couldn’t look at him.
Maybe he found out he was a bit of a queer, and had learnt about Heavy’s dreams of raw dogging him on his own exam table or railing him against a wall while out in battle. Though he was sure that wasn’t it, Demo would never tell anyone or he’d be dead right now. Besides that, he knew Medic was a queer, he had said so as much.
Maybe Pyro harassed him again about being too close to Heavy while in battle, but he hadn’t been doing that lately and she wasn’t allowed near him unless injured, at Heavy's orders.
So here Heavy was, standing in front of the medbay once more but not for a medical reason. He had already knocked, clicked the bell just to make sure Medic would hear.
God, he wasn’t good with emotions and feelings and all this shit. Why did this have to be so fucking—
The door creaked open, Medic looking out and up at him with a tired, confused look. He must have either just woken up or had stayed up all night but the ever present cigarette was still between those plush lips. Heavy notes it was new, the light of the small flame casting some nice glow in those eyes. “… is something wrong? It’s 2 am and I’d-”
“I know, I know, you’d rather be asleep right now but this is important,” he said briskly, cutting Medic off. Medic’s posture changed dramatically, back straight and his eyes more focused.
“What’s wrong? Is the Civilian here? Does he need my monthly report again?” Medic inquired, shifting foot to foot under Heavy’s stare. His tone changed as his eyes widened in a bit of fear. “Does the Administrator need something from me again?”
“No no, it’s not about that pencil-pusher or that creepy ass woman,” Heavy reassured the smaller man, rubbing his hands together as he tried to not look at the barely clothed man in front of him. “Can I.. can I come in at least?”
“Oh.. of course,” Medic moved out of the way, letting him in and locking the medbay’s doors behind the both of them as they walked to Medic’s quarters, turning on the lights as they walked in.
It was small for an apartment but much bigger than his own quarters on the base, a small sitting area with a kitchenette, a futon plus two barrel chairs, and an attached bedroom and bathroom to the right. The perks of being a doctor he supposed.
Heavy sat onto the futon, scratching his sideburns as the black haired man sat on a small barrel chair, tapping cigarette ash into the nearby ashtray. “So what did you want to talk to me about at this ungodly hour?”
He wasn’t looking at him, fiddling with the hem of his pants instead, clearly uncomfortable with his presence. Heavy was uncomfortable too, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I wanted to ask why you’ve been ignorin’ me? If I did somethin’ to upset ya, I’d much rather have you explain it to me instead of givin’ me the cold shoulder,” Heavy breathed out quickly as his hands fiddled together, looking at how Medic tensed and looked away when he took his drag, a frown creasing his lip. “I just wanna know.”
“It’s nothing. I told you to drop it, didn’t I?” Medic was a horrible liar, he twitches too much and he chews on the butt of his cig when he stresses out or overthinks. Heavy knew that for a fact.
“You’re lyin’! I can’t believe you'd lie to me again !” Heavy groaned out, frustration seeping into his raising voice. “It’s clearly not “nothin’”; it’s clearly somethin’!”
Medic glared at him, flicking ash in his tray again. “Why do you care!? It’s not like you’re the person who got his heart broken by the man he likes, who clearly doesn’t understand all the very direct signs he’s been sending for 5 months straight!”
Heavy looked at him confused as Medic began to cry, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand as he stubbed his cigarette out. Why was he crying? And who’s this other man who was clearly hurting his doctor? He’d kill ‘em for making his doctor sob his eyes out in front of him like this.
Then it hit him like a freight train; he’s the man.
He was the reason why Rubén was so sad as of lately, sobbing in frustration and anguish, not being able to look at Morrison without a look of longing and sadness. He probably blamed himself for all of this, thinking himself unlovable.
Morrison sputtered, stood up and moved over to Rubén with a more gentle expression and his large hand reaching for his shoulder. “Ru, I’m so—”
Morrison found himself getting pushed back onto the futon, Rubén’s small hands cupping his face as he stared at him, eye to eye, standing between his legs. Morrison’s hands moved to gently grip the doctor’s perfectly thin hips, rubbing the bone as Rubén’s eyes twitched down to his scarred and dry lips. “Bésame, estúpido.”
“What?” He asked, rubbing those hips.
A soft voice in his ear whispered, “Kiss me.”
Morrison was more than happy to comply, gripping the doctor’s hips firmly as he pressed a kiss to those warm lips, Rubén’s hands going to his hair, cupping the back of his head as he kissed the doctor once, twice, three times. The doctor tasted like nicotine, no surprise there, but the heavy also tasted something smoky. He smelt like cigs too, along with bar soap and some kind of cologne. Morrison ran his hands over the hips of his doctor, the skin so thin that when he pinched, bruises formed quickly. It was like heaven. Rubén was clearly eager but inexperienced, teeth nipping and pants so loud it was deafening, but he loved it. It was exactly what he imagined when he had thought about kissing him.
“Siempre he querido de besar así,” The doctor breathed out when they both pulled away for air, English clearly not working for him at the moment. “A veces, cuando te miro, me siento como un animal, Morrison.”
More kissing, Rubén’s chest pressed flat to his own, hands carding through his short hair.
“No me gusta que te quiero,” He gasped out, pulling away from Morrison’s smirking face as he must’ve felt that last pinch. “Pero en verdad no me importa.”
Morrison smiled, rubbing over Rubén’s trembling back, shaking like a leaf. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re sayin’, but all I know is that I love ya.”
Morrison’s lips quirked to the side as he saw Rubén smile, rolling his eyes, and giggling. He kissed him again, only a press of lips this time. “I love you too, mi hombre estúpido.”