Scout causes a lot of problems.

Namely, a lot of problems that I have to resolve. He likes to make things up.

“Doc, Heavy broke his fuckin’ leg!”
“Holy shit, Doc! Demo’s other eye just freakin’ popped out of his skull!”

He goes on like that forever until I’m close to having a heart attack or until I’m about to beat his skull in.

So when Pyro came to my office again to ask me something “important”, I knew Scout had something to do with it.

“Medic, what is… gaydar?”

I looked at him.

He looked back at me, earnestly, before pulling his mask down over his mouth. I ran my hand through my hair and paused, sighing.

“Pyro, did… did Scout tell you about this?”

He nodded.

“Well, um,” I began, standing up and gesturing uselessly. How does one explain a concept like that? If only Pyro had a better grasp of English. (And perhaps of sarcasm, as it were.) He continued when I failed to supply him with an answer, pulling his mask up and resting it on the top of his head.

“Because Scout say when I watch Solly-“

Solly?

“-when he is rocket jump, I get pose that makes his gaydar go off.”

Of course. Soldier.

I rubbed my chin, trying to look pensive, as though this was an issue of utmost importance. I’m sure he knew the concept of homosexuality in his native tongue, but…

“Pyro, can you show me this pose?”

…it’s awkward to talk about, regardless.

Pyro smiled a bit and looked at the floor briefly.
“Well…” he said, as he put his hands on his cheeks excitedly and brought his toes inward slightly, assuming what couldn’t be anything other than ‘the position’. “Like this.”

He did look a bit gay.

(The only reason I wanted to see the pose was because I wanted to see whether or not Scout was right about the “gay” issue.)

“Hmm,” I said, returning to my desk and shuffling a few papers around. I thought about lying to him, saying that a gaydar was nothing bad, or that it was perfectly natural for a young man’s gaydar to go off sometimes, but I didn’t want Scout to tease him more than he already did.

Pyro watched me with a furrowed brow, obviously worried. This whole thing was really getting to him.

“Pyro,” I said, putting my hands behind my back and sighing. “Doctor’s orders: Don’t listen to Scout anymore.”

His face fell; obviously that wasn’t the answer he was looking for, but I didn’t know what else to say to him.

Scout burst into the room suddenly, causing us both to jump.

“Hey, fags!” He yelled, grinning from ear to ear.

I looked over at Pyro, who had already gotten his mask back over his face.

“Scout, you’ve been telling Pyro about your gaydar?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. I wasn’t amused, but it would have taken a miracle to have Scout figure that out.

“Hell yeah,” Scout said, hanging from the doorframe, one hand still on the doorknob. “I figured you’d be able to tell him all about that crap.”

Pyro turned toward me, in what I could only assume was confusion. Scout saw him do this and continued.

“Whenever I look at you and Heavy, Doc, my gaydar goes off real bad,” He laughed and left us alone, closing the door behind him. Pyro and I said nothing as we listened to his footsteps disappear down the hallway.

Pyro slowly slid his mask back up, mouth open slightly, eyes wide.

“Doctor…” he began, slowly putting the pieces together. “Heavy!?”

I covered my mouth and blushed wildly, sitting at my desk and putting my head down. How humiliating.

He finally understood what a gaydar was.

-----

When Soldier comes into the infirmary, it’s to do one of two things: 1) to criticize me for letting “those other maggots” be too weak, or 2) to berate me for being German.

“Why, this is AMERICA, Doc, and I think we should have AMERICAN doctors taking care of the brave warriors fighting here! No offense to you, of course, but…” He said to me, on more than one occasion. (And I’m certain he meant offense each time.)

But when he came in one day carrying a certain passed out Pyro, I knew something was different. Soldier set him on the examination table with a gentility I didn’t think he possessed, and turned to me, looking more serious than normal.

I looked at him and waited for an explanation.

“The sissy passed out…” he said, uncharacteristically quiet, before saluting me and exiting, slamming the door on his way out. I heard him curse loudly as he walked (stomped, actually) away.

I noticed that Soldier’s helmet was resting over Pyro’s face and smiled. At least the brute had enough common sense to know how much Pyro hated being seen.

It occurred to me that Soldier might have beaten the poor boy up for one reason or another, and had brought him here as a strange act of apology. I didn’t think he had much tolerance for someone who couldn’t speak up, and Pyro certainly fit that description.

Though I would have to prepare myself for the inevitable shitstorm that would follow, when Soldier would try something else inane later on, I focused on the matter at hand and removed the helmet slowly to assess what damages had been done.

Red, slightly puffy eyes, a runny nose, and flushed cheeks.

The poor boy has allergies.

That moment made me realize that Soldier actually /had/ a heart. (That, or he was damn good at pretending to have one.)

Perhaps there really /was/ hope for that lunatic after all.

Pyro awoke with little prompting, and since the problem wasn’t enough to warrant a full-on examination of any sort, I left him alone for a few moments to gather his thoughts.

He sat up, sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve (something I don’t recommend), before drawing his knees up toward him and wrapping his arms around his legs.

“Doctor,” he said, sounding very congested. “Dzień dobry.”

“Hallo, Pyro.”

He didn’t seem alarmed at all that he was there, and I wasn’t surprised that he didn’t ask why he was. That’s the first thing out of a person’s mouth, normally. Waking up in an infirmary isn’t exactly everyone’s idea of a normal Sunday afternoon.

But Pyro’s not exactly the healthiest young man out there.

I was a bit disappointed that he thought he still had to greet me so formally, but said nothing of it.

“You’ve got allergies, I see,” I remarked.

He nodded, scratching the back of his head as though he had forgotten. He then told me that he /had/ forgotten.

I’m convinced that Pyro belongs in some undiscovered category organism.

In his suit, he’s unstoppable. He could set himself on fire and never stop to save himself (or stop to /die/, for that matter), and god knows what sorts of things he must say while wearing that thing. (Some of his mumbles are said with a force that could only mean he’s swearing.)

Outside of his suit, he won’t hurt a fly. He doesn’t say much, let alone anything obscene, and he’s the only one who changes the roll of toilet paper regularly. (Well, that has little to do with when he’s wearing his suit, but it’s a good deed regardless. My point is that it’s not something I expected of him the first day we met.)

He’s very gentle, shy, and polite.

For a while I thought he might have some sort of rare mental illness.

But, no. He’s just a bit socially inept.

I asked him what happened.

“Solly was rocket jump again, doktor,” he began, while holding his finger under his nose, trying to stop it from running. “And helmet is, uh…”

He gestured to his eyes while he looked for the right words, moving his fingers in small circles, pantomiming a pair of goggles.

“Helmet is dark,” he said finally, furrowing is brow, no doubt upset with himself that he forgot such a simple word. I nodded and urged him to continue.

“I could not see Solly well, so I took helmet off,” he positioned his legs over the side of the table and began to swing them to and fro, looking very serious. “Eyes began to burn and itch…”

He trailed off, rubbing his eyes gently. They were still a bit red.

“And nose dripped much. I felt dizzy, doktor,” he said. “I fainted?”

“Yes, Pyro,” I said. “Soldier brought you here.”

His eyes widened, as I had seen them do in the past, and I knew a million worries had just hit him.

Who had seen his face? Where did his mask go? Were they all talking and laughing about his scars right now?

He touched the rim of Soldier’s helmet and bit his lower lip briefly, looking positively ill.

“Solly… saw?” He touched his face, lowering his voice as though someone were listening to us.

“I imagine so. But he was nice enough to put his helmet over your face so no one else could see you.”

He looked up at me and seemed better almost instantly, nodding a little.

He then smiled slightly and touched his cheeks, as though hiding from something, and looked at the helmet again. The boy was smitten.

“I will have to thank later, then,” he mumbled, looking at his boots.

I thought of Soldier and how gruff and loud he always is, and couldn’t stop myself from smirking. It was a ridiculous thought, that anyone should have feelings for that man, but it certainly wasn’t out of the question.

Everyone’s loved at some point, my mother always told me, even the ugly ones.

Pyro hopped off the table and opened the door slightly, poking his head out to look up and down the hallway. Once he was sure there was no one in the general area, he grabbed Soldier’s helmet and held it up to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Bye, doktor!” He said quickly, taking a deep breath and putting the helmet on top of his head, holding it down slightly while lifting his chin in a futile attempt to watch where he was going.

His footsteps faded quickly, and as I emerged from the infirmary for dinner a few hours later I knew all had gone well.

Soldier was wearing his helmet again, pounding his fist into his palm as he spoke authoritatively to none other than Pyro, who was wearing his mask.

Though I couldn’t see his face, I could tell he was the happiest he had been all day.

On the rare occasion all of us gather for dinner there’s always something to complain about, be it the food selection or who is sitting next to who. (I certainly won’t forget the incident where Sniper took it upon himself to chastise me for my selection of tablecloth.)

Sniper and Spy were quick to sit next to each other, as they had been spending a peculiar amount of time together. It was much in the same way Heavy made sure he sat next to me, but everyone expected that.

We were seated across from Soldier and Pyro, who had become friends more quickly than I had thought. I was pleased for Pyro and gave him a subtle thumbs up when Soldier was busy scolding Demoman for drinking so much when there was a war going on. He gave me a happy nod and returned the gesture.

Engineer sat next to Heavy and gave us a polite “Howdy, fellas”.

Scout arrived a bit later than everyone else (as per usual), and when he realized he had to sit next to Engineer he looked a strange combination of frightened, nervous, and possibly aroused.

There was little conversation in the beginning, and at that I wasn’t surprised.

These men didn’t seem to be familiar with friendly conversation (at least, not in such a family-like setting).

There /are/ rules that go along with eating at a dinner table, but I guessed they weren’t quite sure what they were.

“This stuff sucks,” Scout said finally, eyeing the food with disgust.


“Eat it, Scout,” I said. It had been my turn to cook. I had enlisted the help of Pyro that night, figuring his ability to wield a flamethrower with such grace on the battlefield carried over into the kitchen.

I was correct, but not in the way I had hoped. He was good with fire, yes, but precision and detail work on a small scale turned out to be something he didn’t have a concept of.

I was hoping no one would notice that the night’s dinner was slightly, ah, how do I put this?... /charred/.

“Nah,” he said, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms. “I only eat food.”

He flashed me his ‘I know I’m annoying you and I love it’ smile.

“Leetle man should stop whining,” Heavy said, furrowing his brow. “Medic and Pyro work very had to make dinner.”

Pyro, who normally didn’t eat anything when anyone was around, had worked up the nerve to slide his mask up over his mouth so he could eat with us. I saw him smile bashfully.

“I don’t give a crap who made it, it /sucks/,” Scout said. He tugged the bill of his cap over his eyes and folded his arms in protest.

“Listen, you fairy,” Soldier piped up, slamming his fork against the table suddenly. “When a man’s given a meal he should be thankful for it, since it might be his last! Why, when I was in the war you wouldn’t believe what we had to eat-“

“Alright, fine, I gotcha,” Scout said, holding his hand up as though surrendering. “Anything but another of those lame stories…”

“You’re not a real American man until you’ve had at least one burnt meal in your day, kid, lemme tell you, and I am /all/ American!” Soldier said.

“You use a damn Soviet rocket launcher, moron,” Scout replied, wrinkling his nose.

Soldier gritted his teeth and gripped his fork much harder than before, trying to calm down only at the suggestion of Pyro, who had lightly put his hand on Soldier’s forearm.

“Scout, be nice, will ya?” Engineer said, nudging the boy in the shoulder gently. I could tell he wasn’t enjoying the food much, either, but his polite nature made him unable to say anything about it.

Scout threw a sideways glance at Engineer and shrugged, picking up his fork again and proceeding to poke at his food. He seemed almost embarrassed. (It’s amazing the effect Engineer has on that boy.)

Then everyone fell silent.

Up until that point, I had thought that being a doctor to the same 8 men would be the most awkward thing I would ever experience.

Heavy put his hand on mine and gave it a gentle squeeze, and I could almost hear him saying something like “Is ok doktor, not everyone is good cook”.

Humiliating, really.

But poor Pyro had taken it worse than I did, as I could tell when he choked out a quiet “I’m sorry”.

Everyone looked up in unison, genuinely confused as to where the voice had come from.

“My fault dinner is bad,” Pyro said, swallowing audibly afterward.

No one said a damn thing.

There he was, standing there and apologizing for something that he didn’t exactly ruin himself and no one said /anything/.

No “it’s okay”, no “don’t worry about it”.

Not even a “holy shit, you can speak”.

They were simply too stunned to figure out what to do.

Pyro took this as a bad sign and stood up quickly, pulling his mask back over his mouth as his chin began to tremble. He left in quite a hurry.

Scout rubbed the back of his head, lips pursed.

“Well, shit,” he said.

“Now look what you’ve gone and done, dummy,” Engineer said, gesturing to where Pyro had exited.

I noticed that Soldier had left as well.

“Excuse me, Heavy,” I said, patting him on the shoulder and leaving Scout to be reprimanded by everyone else at the table.

I did feel a bit sorry for the boy.

I made my way to the courtyard, where I could faintly hear Soldier’s voice.

“Listen, that maggot didn’t know what he was saying,” he said. “Why, when I was out there, about to fight Hitler face-to-face, the only way the food came was ‘burnt’. No one cared a bit! It was delicious, you know, and-“

They were standing there, Pyro looking dejected, and Soldier thumping him sharply on the shoulder as he tried to make his point.

“-A little charcoal is good for a man’s diet.”

Pyro looked up and slid his mask over his mouth, opening it in an attempt to say something.

He closed it. I bit my lip and wished he’d just say something. /Anything/.

“Thank you, Solly,” he said at last, smiling.

“You’re a good kid, Pyro,” Soldier said, putting his hand on his shoulder and grinning toothily. “Can’t understand you much, but we can work on that.”

“Oh, yes, mask makes hard to talk,” Pyro said.

“Damn right,” Soldier said, adjusting his helmet. “Here, lemme show ya some of the finer points of my rocket launcher…“

And he began to walk towards the armory, Pyro following him closely and nodding. He left his mask up, a huge achievement for him.

I breathed a sigh of relief and returned to the kitchen, where Scout was still being scolded by Engineer.

Sniper and Spy were long gone by then doing God knows what, and Demoman was passed out at the table.

Heavy put his hand on my shoulder and smiled, welcoming me back with a small kiss on the cheek.

“Going well with Pyro, doktor?” he asked.

“I think so, Heavy,” I said.

“Ha, reminds me of time doktor and I first met,” he said, tapping his chin with his finger lightly, putting a special emphasis on the word met.

I coughed softly, embarrassed, and looked over at Engineer and Scout, who now appeared to be dangerously close to kissing each other.

“Yes, Heavy, I remember quite well.”

From far away I heard a rocket go off, the muffled laugh of Pyro and Soldier’s loud, booming one.

I didn’t wonder what they were up to, since I had no doubt Pyro would tell me all about it in the morning.

There needs to be more. Or does there? I don't know but if there is I want to read it.

This is adorable.

Is there moar? Please say yes.

I love the way you write Pyro! All of this was adorable and I love the group dynamics.

there needs to be more or i will be incredibly sad

This is incredibly adorable. I must have more.

I really like this story. Please continue!

This is the most adorable thing ever.

C'este belle!

pardon my french.

>>12

Saaaage. Sage.

Pyro is my favorite. You knocked me dead. Love this, write more.

Shy Polish Pyro with a crush on Soldier is incredibly adorable.

asdf stop making think there was an update, non-saging anon :(

This is amazing.

I love Polish Pyro. Write more, please.

Ah geez I thought there was an update as well. It was fun to re-read, though.

My god, a good story about Pyro. I want more. I really, really want more...

I second what Akai said! Please this is so awesome/adorable!

This is so adorable! I like my Pyro's cute and cuddley, me thinks X3

fffffFFF SAGE PLZ ;A;

>>23
But if we do that the OP will never know how much we long for more of this miracle writing! D:

how cute. I like Pyro's speech pattern. Uhh, could I make a small suggestion though? Try giving Medic a bit heavier of a German accent.

UPDATE.

THIS IS ADORABLE.

>>26

Damn you, fooling me into believing this is an update D:

But ya' know, now that it's been brought up an update would be most welcome, eh?

This is the cutest characterization of Pyro I've ever read. :D

I don't think I could love a story more then this. The epitome of D'AWWWWWWWWWWWWW

i love this, please do more i love your uber cute pyro to death

This is beyond amazing!! I can't wait for more! There will be more right? I LOVE IT!
Great freakin writing and great characterizations!!!!!!!
It is all love!

any other adjectives besides adorable?