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No. 359
Every repost is a repost repost. By Pippers.

--

So imagine you're having coffee with Scout and all of the sudden he hits you with this.
A tragic tale of how he battled his depression within 2Fort and how he came to terms with the fact that he might be a little gay.
(Well, not really.)

I was sort of hesitant about posting this because Charshy already has a kick-ass EngieScoot fic up, but... enjoy anyway!
----
Let me tell this to ya straight.

“Dear losers,

You all suck and I’m leaving.

-Scout”

I freakin’ hate these guys. Like not even the kind of hate you don’t really mean, when you’re jokin’ around with your friend or some shit, or when you’re raggin’ on your brothers for something stupid.

I really, honestly HATE ‘em. So that’s why I’m leavin’.

I’m tired of them always pickin’ on me for gay reasons.

Like, “Scout, you’re afraid of needles?!”.

Goddamn it. That shit isn’t even fair. /Everyone/ hates needles.

Well, ‘cept for Medic. He gets real kinky with those things.



Anyway.

I’m leavin. I’m packing all my shit and slinging it over my shoulder like in the movies, and getting the fuck out.

You know, where the hero guy walks out into the sunset or something cheesy like that and the credits roll? Yeah, that’s me.

I put my goddamn note on the stupid counter and walked the fuck out.

No one, abso-freakin-lutely no one is awake at 5. Those lazy bastards sleep in any chance they get.

Seriously, it pisses me off.

What’s wrong with wanting to play some ball at 5 am? Get the blood pumpin’, some sweat on your brow…

It’s great, but that’s not the point.

Walking down to the courtyard makes me feel hella cool, since it’s all dewey and shit and I’m a lone fuckin’ ranger. A real desperado.

I’m creepin’ down those stairs like nobody’s business, and let me tell you, 2Fort can be sort of cool lookin’ when there isn’t blood fucking everywhere. The dude who designed this shit really knew what he was doing. And it smells kinda nice, I guess. Sort of like that weird wood smell that pops out of goddamn nowhere after a tree’s been cut down. Sort of like that freshly mowed grass smell, too.

But, halfway down the stairs, I hear a beep.

And then another.

And then the sound of a dispenser doing whatever the hell it does.

Shit. Engie’s awake.

He’s a cool guy and all, don’t get me wrong, but it’s pretty damn hard to run away when your teammate is building al-fucking-ready.

Shit!

Maybe I can slip past him. Bangin’ on metal with a wrench is pretty loud, right? So I tear ass down the stairs and aim for the closest hallway, losing all my tough guy mystique in the process.

And then, from freakin’ nowhere:

“Howdy, Scout. Yer up early.”

I stop. Fuuuuuck.

Fuck Texans.

“Go away,” is all I can manage. A lame reply, but whatever. I never know what to say to that guy anyway. Then I make the mistake of turning to look at him.

He’s standing there, frowning at me and rubbing the back of his head. He looks so fuckin’ sad when he does that.

“What?” I say.

“Scout, where ya goin’?” he says. I don’t say anythin’ for a bit.He starts takin’ his shirt off.

At first I think he’s trying to come on to me or something, some gay stuff; like maybe if he showed me enough skin I’d decide to stay. Like suddenly I’d see his rippling muscles and all that sweat beaded across his skin and I’d just up and forget my plan to do anything at all. Ever.

Um…

My point being, 5, almost 6 in the morning and it’s hot as Hades already. The guy’s workin’ up a sweat.

I don’t say anything because I’m too busy watching him.

Now, I’m no faggot (honest), but this guy is /ripped/. You can’t tell ‘cause he’s always wearin’ those stupid overalls, but Jesus. I’m kind of jealous. But I guess you’d figure a guy who lifts metal all freakin’ day would have a killer body.

“Um,” is all I have to say. I’m slick as hell sometimes.

The bastard tosses his shirt onto his dispenser and walks over to me.

“Where ya goin’?” he asks firmly, putting a hand on my shoulder.

He’s definitely sweating.

It actually smells kinda good.

(Not gay.)

I’m not so sure why he wants to know what I’m up to so bad, but I don’t feel like explaining. I swat his hand away and start walking again.

I feel like the hero in some kind of comic book this time. Like I said, slick as hell.

“ ‘m not doing anythin’,” I mumble.

So I’m walking again and I hear his big-ass boots crunching on he ground behind me. He could step on something by accident and kill it with those monsters, though, so I’m sort of worried.

I ignore it for a bit.

Now, Engie isn’t the type of guy to interfere with shit, but he cares a whole damn lot about his team. He’s worried about me. I get it.

But, seriously. It’s freakin’ annoying to be followed like some kind of game. And I ain’t a freakin’ fox or anything like that.

I reach the fence outside and figure I can scale it if I toss my shit over first.

So I reel back and fuckin’ wing my stuff over the top as hard as I can.

Engie whistles. “So yer bailin’ on us. After all this time?”

“Ah ain’t bailin’,” I say, mockin’ that stupid accent of his. He hates that. “Ahm gosh darn bored of you fellas.”

He puts his hands on his hips like he’s my mother and frowns at me. I feel like a loser for noticin’, but… his arms look freakin’ good from where I’m standin’.

Fuck that guy. Tryin’ to get a straight man to fall for that “oh-look-at-me-I’m-so-attractive” shit.

I shrug at him and start climbing, pulling myself up the fence like a fuckin’ jackrabbit. This shit is easier than running, I swear to God.

So I’m practically sailing up the side of the damn thing and I’m almost free. I can actually see the horizon without having to look through a stupid fence for once. I don’t feel like I’m confined to the goddamned RED base for the whole freakin’ day.

Still fuckin’ hot out, though.

I swing one of my legs over the bar once I reach the top, panting cause of how /hot/ it is (not cause I’m tired. Gimme a break). Engie’s still standin’ there.

“Go away!” I yell. “Build somethin’ else!”

“Scout, yer bein’ ridiculous,” he says. “We need ya here.”

It pisses me off how nice this guy is. Like, get angry for once or something.

Sheesh.

“You don’t need me, moron,” I tell him, swingin’ my other leg over and gettin’ ready to climb down.

He smiles a little, that weird freakin’ smile he gets when someone says somethin’ awkward and he thinks it’s cute. (Like all those times Heavy gets proverbs wrong when he’s speakin’ English. Idiot.)

I pause and look down at him through the links in the fence for a while before I realize what I had just said.

“Aw, geez,” I mutter, rolling my eyes into the back of my damn skull. “Ya /numbskull/. I didn’t mean you personally, I just meant ‘you’ as in ‘you guys’…”

Didn’t know what to say after that. He’s the kind of guy who likes to do that to a person. You know, make them feel totally embarrassed for sayin’ somethin’ just a little bit weird or wording something in an “unconventional way”.

He really freakin’ said that once. I can never tell if he’s kidding or not.

“Unconventional way.” Seriously?

“Boy, I don’t think ya know what yer gettin’ yerself into,” he says, leaning against the fence and adjusting his hardhat. The sun’s a little higher than it was before and it’s reflecting off his stupid hat and it’s blinding me. Fucking /blinding/ me.

I swear he does it on purpose. Just to annoy me.

I squint at him and climb down again, ‘cause I can’t wait up there all day.

“I’m gonna have a lot of freakin’ fun, just so ya know,” I tell him. “And you’re gonna be wishin’ you came along with me, damn it.”

“You never asked me to come with ya in the first place, Scout,” He says calmly.

I look at him again as I’m climbing, losing my footing for a moment. He smiles again and I feel like the worst guy in the world.

“Wh- I know that, goddamn it, but I was just assumin’ that you’d wanna come along or…” I was at a loss for words again.

Fuck that guy!

I climb down the last stretch of the fence and hop off as soon as I freakin’ can, holding my arms out and grinning at him like a fuckin’ retard.

“How ya like that, huh?” I ask, runnin’ back and forth a few times like some sort of tough guy. “I’m out and you’re stuck in that shithole! Ha! Good luck climbing this shit with those damn boots of yours!”

He adjusts his goggles and crosses his arms, givin’ me the damned silent treatment.

That’s pretty much the worst thing you can do to a guy like me. I like it when people /react/, you know?

So I jump around like a guy who’s had a little too much crack, while he’s searchin’ for somethin’ along the fence.

“Ain’t gonna find nothin’ there, ya know,” I say a few times, one time imitating a chick and another imitating Demo.

Of course, I quiet down a bit when he says fuckin’ NOTHING. He’s just goin’ back and forth along the line of the fence, lookin’ for some shit I don’t care about.

And then, all of the sudden, he’s in. He’s on /my/ side of the fence and I nearly shit myself.

“Fuck!” I say, grabbing the sides of his arms and shaking him. “What the fuck?! How did you get in here?!”

“Door,” he says simply, pointing to area of fence behind him.

Oh. There’s a fucking door in the fence.

…/Fuck/.

“Listen, Scout,” he says, after I let go of him. “It’s okay. We all want ya here. We need ya for lots of things.”

He grabs onto my shoulders again and I look into his goggles. I can’t see shit through ‘em.

He probably realizes that and pauses, lifting up his goggles and setting them on his forehead. He looks at me again, and goddamn, my heart stops.

He’s got these really nice lookin’ blue eyes, see… they’re really blue. And I mean it.

Like they’re nicer lookin’ than the sky when there are no fuckin’ clouds anywhere on earth. And they’re sincere as hell.

He means the shit he says.

“I know yer feelin’ like the boys have been makin’ fun of ya for one thing or another, but… they honestly do that to everyone.”

It’s like I’m in the school counselor’s office all over again.

Except I can barely look at this guy and I don’t have any fuckin’ idea why.

He’s just so close to me, ya know? And he’s talkin’ all low like that, kinda reassuring and gentle at the same time. And even though he looks real retarded with overalls and no shirt on all I want to do is hug the guy.

…Smells good, too.

“Engie, they hate me,” I said. Dunno why. “Even you do, right?”

He loosens his grip on my shoulders and gently puts one of his hands on my chin, liftin’ my face up.

I feel like such a girl. Not just ‘cause he’s doin’ that shit, no… ‘cause I feel weird about him.

Weird in a good way. Like, uh… I’m not so good at explainin’ this shit.

“I couldn’t hate ya if I tried,” he says, in that stupid accent of his.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I’m huggin’ him before I know it, sobbin’ like a little bitch into his overalls and partially into his chest hair. I mean really /huggin’/, too… like with my arms all around him and stuff. He hugs back and pats my head a little, shushing me gently.

I know I look like a wuss here. It’s just a moment of weakness. I’ve seriously never felt so bad and so happy at once in my entire life.

So, shut up about the hugging.

He’s warm and feels surprisingly good.

“Thanks, Engie…” I say after I’m done crying, wiping my nose on my arm. I got some snot on his overalls.

“No problem, pardner,” he says, patting me on the head again and smiling.

I smile back because, damn, you just have to when you look at that guy.

We both look at each other for a minute, kind of awkward, ‘til he pulls that hand-on-chin shit again and plants a kiss right on my lips.

And, you know what?

I don’t freakin’ mind so much.

We pull away and I kick at the dirt a little, rubbing the back of my head. What do I say to that?

“Let’s, uh… let’s go freakin’ home, Engie,” I say.

“Sure thang, kid,” he says, grabbing my waist and hoisting me up over his shoulder. He laughs and gets himself balanced while I throw a freakin’ tantrum.

“Fuck! Not that way! /Fuck!/” I say, punching him in the back a few times.

He doesn’t say anything and pats my ass a couple times before opening the stupid-ass fence door and taking me back to the fort.

I, uh…

I think I really like this guy.
Marked for deletion (old)
>> No. 472
Thanks for repostin' this, anon! Good timing, too, since I just finished the second part I was writing.
---

I know what I said before, about liking Engie and all, but later that night I avoided him like the freakin’ plague. It was a crappy thing to do but you have no idea how goddamn embarrassed I was.

It was like “I’d-rather-be-felt-up-by-Medic-again-than-face-him” embarrassed.

And considering the type of guy Medic is, that’s a really fuckin’ serious statement.

I even hung out with /Sniper/ I was so desperate to get away. Or hide.

Whatever.

Sniper’s a damn recluse. He just sits up there for hours and looks at shit. Shit like the horizon and God knows what else. I guess he feels the same way I did, about getting out and all. He looks wicked sad with his aviators off.

But he looks really gay with them /on/, so it’s a lose-lose situation for him.

“What’cha doin’ up here, mate?” He took a swig of something and looked at me for a minute.

I glanced down at his bottle, hoped to God he wasn’t drinking his own piss, and shrugged.

Freakin’ smells up in his nest.

“Just goin’ somewhere else for a change,” I said.

He looked at me again, for a little while longer.

“Hm,” was his stupid reply.

It made me pretty mad that that was the only thing he could think to say, but I guess you can’t blame a guy for being socially retarded. Probably had a crappy childhood or some shit.

I sat on top of a crate near the window and looked into the courtyard.

Soldier and Pyro were down there tryin’ to act all macho; I saw Medic round the corner into the base.

Engie was out there, too, and I looked at him real hard.

It was like he didn’t even know that anything was wrong.

Actually, he probably didn’t know.

It’s stupid how carefree the guy is. Goddamn.

He was wrenchin’ somethin’ like normal, though. Clankin’ usually gets on my damn nerves but it’s okay when he does it. Same with sentries.

When I first came here I fuckin’ hated the damn beeping they made.

Now I think it’s soothing. Sort of like some kind of fucked up lullaby.

I have honestly fallen asleep to that shit before.

It’s great.

And I guess you could say the same for that stupid Texas accent of Engie’s.

Not the falling asleep to it part, asshole. It just sounded stupid as shit when I first met him – like I actually think I laughed in his damn face when he introduced himself – but now I don’t think it’s so bad.

Seriously, though. “Howdy, y’all.”

What the fuck is that shit?

“Smart guy,” Sniper mumbled.

I must’ve jumped two freakin’ feet into the air, because he scared the shit out of me. I nearly fell off the damn crate and out the window, for God’s sake.

I had forgotten that he existed for a minute, actually.

Or that anything existed.

“Engie?” I asked, stupidly. I don’t know why. It just came out of my mouth. “Yeah, he’s pretty damn smart. 20 PhDs or some shit.”

Sniper chuckled a bit as I looked out the window again.

“What?” I asked. He had that dumb look on his face, like his mouth was all twisted into some creepy smile. Who the fuck knows what his eyes looked like. Probably scary as hell.

“You like ‘im, don’t ya?”

“Wh- well, of course, we’re on the same damn team, moron…” I shoved my hands in my pockets and glared out the window at everything.

“Nah, more than that,” Sniper said. “You should see the way yer lookin’ at that bloke, mate.”

“Don’t call me mate, asshole,” I mumbled. “I ain’t lookin’ at him special or anythin’.”

Sniper chuckled again, except it was more like a laugh that time, and drank that piss or vodka or whatever crazy shit he liked.

It probably /was/ piss water. I hate that guy.

“Shut the fuck up,” I said, emphasis on fuck and up.

“Alright, mate, just don’t come cryin’ ta me when ya realize ya love a man,” Sniper said. He adjusted his aviators like some kinda hotshot and grinned at me.

His teeth suck, by the way. They’re fuckin’ terrible. Like all crooked and shit.

Anyway, I got up, socked him in the jaw and left.

I don’t think he had any right to call me, ME, of all people, gay.

He’s always fuckin’ that damn Frenchfag every hour of the night. They seriously go at it like nobody’s business, with Spy sayin’ all this shit in French and Sniper sayin’ that he doesn’t fucking understand a word but he loves it anyway.

Fuck Australia!

It’s just a big mess in that lair of his. It’s stupid and I actually fuckin’ regret going in there, and I never regret anything.

At least I know what faggot smells like. It sure ain’t me.

Goddamn.

Worst part was I think I heard Spy decloak on my way out, after I had shut the door.

Like, the guy was sitting in the room the whole time just watching us.

And Sniper just said hi to him like it was nothing.

It makes me shudder just thinking about it…

So I got away from those gays as fast as I could manage, and made my way down to the damn courtyard.

‘Cept I stayed in the doorway, just kind of lookin’ out into it, like some kind of pussy.

And I swear to God I have no damn idea what was wrong with me right then. I’m /never/ fuckin’ like that – I mean with the standin’ still and all and the bein’ wimpy – so it doesn’t make any sense that I suddenly /would/ be.

Felt kinda creepy, to be honest. I was just sorta… standin’ there, lookin’ at Engie but also at nothin’ at all, thinkin’ really hard about stuff.

And let me tell ya, there’s not a lot I think about really hard.

It was gettin’ pretty dark. I could sorta hear Sniper and Spy fuckin’ in the background, but that didn’t bother me so much since I heard it so damn often. They’d be done soon, anyway, ‘cause Sniper, uh…

Well, he doesn’t take too long, if ya get what I’m sayin’.

Anyway, everyone else was inside doin’ who knows what, and it was just me and Engie again.

Though I don’t think he knew I was standin’ there like that. Good thing, too, ‘cause that would have been pretty awkward.

He stopped for a minute and crouched down for a minute or two, rubbin’ somethin’ on somethin’ and blowin’ on it all gay-like…

Damn guy knows how to build a fire real good.

And let me tell ya, right then I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about how impressed with him I was. He can do a lot of shit. A lot more than I thought he could at first, anyway. He can cook some tasty freakin’ breakfasts, and he can build all that goddamn shit out on the battlefield, and he knows how to get stains out of /everything/…

Oh, and he knows how to sing.

Plays guitar, too.

That’s what he was doin’ by the fire, by the way. Singin’ and playin’ guitar. I don’t just think about his musical talents on my own or anything. That’s too much.

So I finally got up enough courage and walked towards him, pretendin’ that I was just coming down from somewhere. I waved a little bit and took a seat next to him (but not too close).

“Yo,” I said, starin’ into the fire. He strummed his guitar.

“Heya, Scout,” he said. He didn’t look at me but it sounded like he was smilin’.

He started to play somethin’ I wasn’t familiar with, probably because it was a Texan thing and I don’t exactly come from an area close to Texas.

It sounded nice, though, so I watched the flames for a little before moving my gaze to his boots, which were sort of tapping in tune with the music he was playing, even though it was really gentle music – not like stuff you’d tap out a beat to – and I honestly wished I had a harmonica then.

Could’ve impressed him that way, maybe, sort of. I dunno what he’s impressed by.

I didn’t look at him any more than that, because I felt really flustered again (and goddamn, was it annoying).

“No reason to feel like that, Scout,” I told myself. “You’re bein’ a pussy-ass bitch.”

I frowned a little and drew a circle in the dirt with my shoe. But Engie, that bastard, was just strummin’ along like everything was okay and like he had never seen a guy who was hurt before in his entire life, like I was hurt, sort of heartbroken I guess-

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait. /No./

I was /not/ heartbroken. Just a little mad at him for bein’ a fag from before, okay?

Just a little upset.

He started playin’ a different song, one that I actually knew, some shit about a chick named Irene.

I drew my legs up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, layin’ my forehead against my knees.

“God, Engie,” I said into my crotch. “Don’t play that shit.”

“Hm?” He paused for like five seconds before continuing. He hummed the tune for a minute to get himself started, I guess, before he sang the words again.

I didn’t think anyone with an accent as dumb as his could actually sound good singing, but, shit. You learn something new every day.

His voice is pretty good. Really mellow. I could tell it wasn’t the first time he sang something, anyway. He puts a lot of emotion into that stuff.

Like he really believed what he was singin’.

Goodnight, Irene.

I didn’t say anything for a little bit. Even though I fuckin’ hated the song I liked his voice a lot.

“This song is sad as hell,” I said, finally. He made another little “hm” sound and didn’t sing anymore. He just played the chords.

I dunno what it was – like the fire or the way the night air was just the right amount of cold or his guitar or something – but I felt really, really sad. Not sad like upset or anythin’, sad like, uh, the thing Spy says he does sometimes…

Oh, right. “Pining.”

Pinin’ sad, like I missed somethin’.

Spy says he pines a lot for France or where ever he comes from, cause hangin’ out with us is so awful or whatever, but I always just say he doesn’t look like a tree. I think that’s why he doesn’t like me.

Anyway, I felt like I was pinin’ for somethin’. Maybe home or a warm bed for once, and I even thought for a minute that I would like to see my dumbass brothers again.

Imagine that. Me wanting to visit all seven of my freakin’ idiot siblings. My ma, too, but that’s obvious. Wantin’ to see your ma again ain’t so bad.

The dumbest part was that I missed him singin’ already even though I had pretty much asked him to cut that shit out. Even though it was a sad song and all that I really liked his voice.

“Hey, uh, Engie,” I said, liftin’ my head up a little. He stopped completely this time and looked at me. I think I blushed or some shit cause goddamn, he had taken his goggles off. They were hangin’ around his neck and he was just lookin’ at me, like really lookin’, like he cared about what I was gonna say even though he knew it was gonna be somethin’ uninterestin’ or stupid.

“Could ya teach me how to play?”

He smiled, nodded, and moved a little bit closer, putting his guitar into my lap and sort of putting one of his arms around me – boy, that was somethin’ – and guidin’ both my hands to the right spots.

I gulped a little and tried not to think too much about the fact that he was so fuckin’ close to me.

He told me about the strings and stuff like that and how I should use my hand like so to hit the notes the right way, but honestly, I was barely paying any attention. I was listenin’ but not really, and as he was sort of moving my hands as he explained (“This string right here, Scout…”), I realized that I just wanted to kiss him.

Yeah, I know, fuck you. You’d get it if you were so close to this guy.

But anyway, I did kiss him.

I just sort of whirled myself around so I was facin’ him all awkward and his guitar made this weird twanging noise as I bumped into it, since I was kneeling now, and he looked real fuckin’ confused until I planted my lips right on top of his, holdin’ his face up to mine.

I’m pretty sure nothin’ in the world moved for a while.

When I pulled away he blushed a little bit and grinned his weird little grin, holdin’ onto his hardhat like it would fall off or somethin’.

From Sniper’s nest I heard him cheer us on, and Spy laughing like the little snot he is.

And holy shit were Engie and I embarrassed when we realized they had probably been watchin’ us the whole damn time. Fuckin’ creepy voyeurs. I flipped them off and looked at Engie again, who had set his guitar to the side.

He looked at me for a minute before pulling me into his arms, the fire cracklin’ in a way that made it feel really perfect.

But I honestly gotta just stop doin’ shit like that.

Gonna have a heart attack or somethin’.
>> No. 473
Damnit, that's cute.

I'm damn sure it was good entertainment for Sniper and Spy anyway.
>> No. 478
Adorable! X) There's no fluff like engie/scoot fluff!
>> No. 484
Oh my god.
So freakin' cute. Scoot and Engie NEVER gets old :D
>> No. 485
Aww, that was cute. I loved the bit with Sniper and Spy being creepy pervs.
>> No. 1067
This is almost everything I love about EngiexScoot <3
>> No. 1068
i wish this would be continued somehow because it's just about the most adorable thing in the goddamn world

though it's perfect as-is so i dunno where you'd continue with it :B
>> No. 1070
This is very beautiful. It's not even mushy; it's /beautiful/. Gosh, I can just imagine all this going on in my head.
>> No. 2519
So cute = )
>> No. 2527
Polite sage for no contribution, except that this is adorable. I'm personally of the belief that sniper and spy would be deadly quiet though, used as they to watching people for profit :)
>> No. 2528
Holy crap, I don't even like this pairing and I'm totally in love with this story. Also, Sniper being a creep = GENIUS.

(sage for being an anon with nothing constructive to say?)
>> No. 2529
Moar please? I definitly want more cute like that.
>> No. 2549
Please, post more! This was so fun to read.


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