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No. 90008
>>90007 Well, here's part of a fic I wrote awhile ago where I tried to touch a little on Heavy's intelligence. I'm not much of a writer, so I'm sorry if it's a little awkward. I can look for more, if you like...
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/What the hell am I doing?/
It had all started when Heavy had announced at a poker game that Sascha was his "only love", and all of a sudden, Medic felt a bizarre stabbing at his chest, and yet, there was no blood, no onset of illness that seemed to be anything but in his own head. What was this intense pain out of nowhere? They'd known each other for three years, and Heavy was the closest he'd ever come to considering anyone a friend. The team even joked sometimes that they were married, especially when Heavy had been delivered a samurai wig and Medic had received a matching geisha one.
It was what Medic had placed on his head as he stood in front of the mirror, trying vainly to hide his bang, rubbing his clean-shaven jawline nervously. Medic often joked about being attracted to men to unnerve his teammates, but nobody really thought he did. And with the way Heavy talked about women, he had no chance.
/Who vould be attracted to you anyways? You ah old. You vear spectacles. You ah dangerous und unstable. Und ein workaholic to boot. Didn't you decide years ago that love und sex only led to complications and distractions from verk?/
/Right, right, of cou-/
"Is de Doktor in? Ha ha. You get it? Is funny. Joke."
"Oh, ah...mm, wait ein second..."
The door swung open, nearly breaking off the hinges, and Heavy chuckled. "Goot dress, Doktor. You are funny man, dress like woman. Is cute to me."
"Oh, hah..." Medic went to toss off the kimono, makeup, and wig, but realized he only had on his undershirt and underwear underneath, so he simply sat down in his deskchair, waving it off as a joke. "Herr Heavy, may I ask somezhing personal? Doktor-patient confidentiality, you know?"
"Anyting. Doktor is smart, he takes care of me. I have trust in heem."
/Oh, ze vays I could take care of-NEIN NEIN SCHTOP IT ACH/
Medic thought about how to word this. Heavy was potentially schizophrenic, and the last thing Medic wanted to do was insult a massive Russian bear by telling him his inanimate wife "wasn't real". "Sascha, does she, ah, allow you to have ein..." Medic lowered his voice, "...sexual life? I do not know if she is ze jealous type, but I ah...do not imagine she vould be capable of-"
Heavy's face completely fell, and he slumped against the wall. Ooh, was that a sore subject for him? "Nyet. I cannot. She says she is very sorry, but...she is gun. I would ruin her." He frowned and looked away a bit in shame. "Girls do not like man who is beeg and scary, with bald head and fat belly and not goot English..." His size was a sore subject for him. Spy and Scout tended to blame every loss on Heavy's weight and how slow he moved because of it.
Medic sighed. "Heavy, you vere hired because of your veight. Und ze fat is mostly belly, most of you is muscle...you probably had no one to practice English with in Russia...you ah smarter zhen you look, I have seen ze stacks of novels in your room-"
"I have PhD. in Russian Literature."
"Really? Heavy is Doktor too?"
"Mm, da."
"Quite impressive. You know, I do know someone who likes big, scary men with no hair, but I doubt you would be interested in zhem..."
"Who is she? I will take her. No matter what she looks like."
"Zhat is ze zhing."
"What is?"
"She is a he."
"Oh. Well, even if she looks like a man-"
"Heavy, your admirer is not ein ugly voman. Unless you consider ein very masculine crossdresser a voman..." Then, quietly, "it's me."
Heavy's eyes bulged, but he seemed to make sense of it all. He nodded nervously and stared at Medic. "Doktor, I can try. Because you are friend. I help friend."
"Nonsense, you enjoy ze company of vomen."
"I will try because you are friend. And I do not know. Maybe Doktor is different den other men. You know?"
"Zhat is not how it verks, but fine. Let me show you how wrong you ah. Sit on ze bed."
Heavy did as Medic commanded, as Medic stepped into his private bathroom to wash the makeup off. He stepped out and tossed the kimono on the chair, standing there in his boxers, undershirt, socks, sock garters, glasses, and ever-present gloves. He then proceeded to nonchalantly remove the undershirt.
"You look good, Doktor. Thinner than me."
"Pffft, look at how much vaight I haff put o-"
Heavy shot him a "who the fuck do you think you're talking to" look, and Medic chuckled. "You won't like me after zhis."
He pulled down his boxers just enough to expose his flaccid shaft and testicles, fully expecting Heavy to recoil in terror and call him a sick freak. But he didn't. He merely leaned on his elbows as if he'd never seen a penis before. He then stood up. Well, that was-
Heavy enveloped him in a bear hug from which he could not squirm, and he felt himself going slightly stiff against Heavy's thigh. Heavy noticed Medic struggling, and let him go a bit, smiling widely with that I-could-eat-a-banana-sideways mouth of his.
"I never think hard about doing bouncy with men, but-"
/You nevah zhink hard about anyzhingk, Herr Heavy./ He thought this affectionately, teasingly. He was impulsive, but no moron.
"You look goot! Like papa in mockingbird movie."
"Gregory Peck? I do not look like Gregory Peck."
"Da. You do. Many men and ladies want to touch you."
"So vot about you? Now zhat you haff me, vot vould you like to do vith me?"
"Show me how men kees, Doktor."
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