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typingatlightspeed · 11 months

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TF2 Fanfic - Concentration Chapter 5 - Medic: Playing Doctor

Scout's next assignment is Medic, to be a guinea pig for the doctor's latest arcane experiement. Unfortunately, it's also a medical experiment, which means Scout has to suffer through the ordeal of surgery with the painkilling properties of the medigun turned down and the excited infodumping levels of the Teutonic garuda turned up to 11.

Part of Monstrous Intent!

Warnings: Surgery! Not super graphic with descriptions, but Medic spends some time up in Scout's guts in a not-sexy way for once. Shocking for me to write, I know. So yeah, if you're squeamish, be warned.

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"So I said to 'im, you're just mad 'cause you ain't got five boyfriends," Scout snorted, pulling a can of Bonk! out of the fridge. "You shoulda seen the look on 'is face when before I blasted it off 'is head!" He cracked the can and took a swig. "Classic."

Sniper's easy chuckle was interrupted as he squinted for a long moment and began counting on his fingers. "Wait, five? Since when? You got Doc, Heavy, Soldier—"

"Demo an' you, yeah," Scout interrupted, talking against the lip of the can and punctuating the statement with another noisy slurp.

Sniper's eyes snapped to Scout, wide. Oh, he was not prepared for this conversation. He'd just been proposed to a few days ago and now his best friend thought they were an item? He loved Scout, but he wasn't ready for that kind of relationship with him! "Er, I—look, you know you're me best mate, but—"

"Come on, Snipes, I know I'm hot shit but let's be real with ourselves, you an' Demo are way better at matin' than you are with me. Not to say you're a slouch or nothin'." Scout barely hid his grin around the can, drinking half to keep himself from bubbling over with laughter as his friend turned red and began to panic, stumbling over his words.

"N—not what I mean, I—we're not—it's not—look, I know we get sort of...more touchy-feely than you'd expect for friends with benefits, but—but I—we—"

"Ah, there ye are, ye wee minx!" Demoman called, entering the kitchen and making a beeline for Scout. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man and dipped him, planting a slow, searching kiss on him that drew moans from the faun, before righting him and letting him go with a swat on the ass. "Oi, Mickey, ye alright? Ye look like ye're goin' tae be sick."

Sniper goggled at his lover, his secret fiance. "Tav, Scout thinks—"

"That we're boyfriends?" Demoman chuckled, ignoring the slight pout from Scout as he set about disarming the prank when it was just getting good. "Sorry, love, I couldnae resist lettin' him wind ye up."

"Look, you can call it what you want. We ain't like, datin', but I'm gonna call it boyfriends, even if it's just romantic fuckbuddies or whatever noncommittal bullshit you wanna try to pass it off as. We kiss, we cuddle, we fuck, we have fun. Close enough, right?" Scout explained with a dismissive shrug. He mumbled against the can before taking another slurp, "Makes it easier to count."

"You coulda maybe cleared that by me first," Sniper growled, slugging Scout in the arm and tossing a cross glare to Demoman. "Bloody terrifyin' me makin' me think I 'ad to suddenly figure out 'ow to let me best mate down easy."

Demoman swooped over to Sniper and wrapped him in a tight hug, peppering his cheek with kisses. "Ah, I'm sorry, Dee. Ye shoulda seen the look on yer face, though!"

Sniper scowled, but the anger melted away quickly. It was infuriatingly hard to stay mad at Demoman, especially wrapped in his warm, strong arms. "I'm absolutely getting you back for that. Both you cunts."

Scout cried out, bucking against the straps of the operating table as the scalpel cut through his flesh, digging a line down his abdomen and slicing through the muscle of his belly. He hissed breaths, alternating between clenched teeth and open-mouthed yells, inching upward into screams the deeper the blade went, until at last his abdominal wall was fully breached, and the scalpel left him. He tried to catch his breath but found it difficult, what with the whole abdominal wall breach making it hard to get his diaphragm to want to work amid all of the pain.

"Do not worry, Spatz," Medic said, setting the scalpel down. "This isn't even what it would really feel like without the medigun. It would be blindingly excrutiating!" He pet at Scout's hair, scratching at his scalp, getting the gentle touches out of the way before that hand would be covered in the younger man's blood. "This may hurt, but it is far from anything that could send you into shock."

"Lucky me," Scout croaked, squeezing his eyes shut and trying desperately not to cry. He was already failing. Holy shit it hurt, burning searing sharp electric pain lighting up his whole torso and making his arms and legs twitch with the animal urge to run, to get away from the source of his agony: Medic, his boyfriend.

Spy had said that today's training would ramp up the intensity further, particularly pertaining to sustained pain, but Scout hadn't been prepared for surgery. Normally that would be more emotionally than physically daunting, thanks to the medigun mounted to the ceiling in Medic's office. But Scout had been very dismayed to learn that the gun had a dial to control its strength, and it could be turned down to allow for feeling pain while keeping the patient alive, which the doctor had gleefully explained to him mere moments before turning it to that setting and slicing into him like a Smissmas ham.

"I know it's painful, but Spy was very insistent that the test here is for you to maintain your spell while in extreme pain. It gives me no pleasure to hurt you like this." Medic frowned. It was true, in a sense. He did like hurting people, but not his lover, on his operating table. Here was a place for experimentation and discovery, research and investigation, and maybe just a bit of fun playing with blood and guts. But bringing his little sparrow such agony did nothing to excite the doctor's lust for knowledge and progress. His preferred method of strapping Scout to a table and making him scream tended far more toward the pleasurable, after all.

"Then why you gotta do it? We can just turn that gun up an' Spy wouldn't know a thing, right? It ain't like 'e stayed to watch this time."

Medic shook his head. "That we know of," he reminded him. "But, fine. This is too intense, and I hate having a living patient I can't even hold proper a conversation with." He reached up to the medigun rig and messed with some of the controls. "If Spy has complaints, he can recruit someone who isn't romantically involved with you." He chuckled. "As vanishingly small as that number seems to be."

The healing beam of the medigun seemed to glow a little brighter, and the hum of the machine itself changed its sound. The pain in Scout's abdomen seemed to ease just a bit, less the mind-rending searing agony of having his body cavity opened, and more akin to the heavy, awful throb of a freshly sewn-up body cavity, instead. It still hurt desperately, but Scout could at least get his eyes to focus and distract himself a little. After all, he spent his job getting shot on the daily. His pain tolerance was high, just not superhuman.

"Thanks, babe," Scout grunted with a wince. "I can at least think straight now."

"There is not much else that you do straight," Medic hummed, turning back to his tray of tools and fiddling around.

"Oh ha ha very funny. You're one to talk you big ol' fruit loop," Scout teased, trying not to laugh lest it aggravate his pain. He pointedly looked away as Medic fixed his retractors to hold open the incision, baring Scout's intestines to the room. The sight always made him sick, and more than once in the past he'd needed to quickly snag an emesis basin upon walking in on Medic working on Heavy. He never understood how the giant could be so casual and cavalier about letting the doctor perform exploratory surgery on him. "So, uh, what're you workin' on in me, anyway?" He winced at the sound of vague squelching, and a heavy throb of pain that rippled up through him.

Once the retractors were in place, Medic turned back to his tray. "I have a new implant I'm looking to test out."

"You're awful low for a new uberheart."

"Nein, this one will be placed lower in the abdominal cavity. I want to avoid feedback with the überheart implant, actually. You see, I have been doing research into necromancy."

"Oh no."

"Specifically," Medic continued, ignoring Scout's worry, "healing magic."

"That counts as necromancy?"

"Indeed! It deals with energies releating to life and death, hence it falls under the purview of that school. I was rather surprised, meinself, but it does make sense, once you realize how the mechanics of the spells actually function."

"So you're learnin' healin' spells?"

"Precisely! At least, I have begun mein studies. It is fascinating, really, but something struck me as I practiced with Heavy the other day. Namely, that the energies I was working with seemed almost suspiciously similar to the functionality of the medigun! They do say sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic, but I have a suspicion that in this case, when I created the medigun, I may have unintentionally bridged the gap between them!"

"...so the medigun's magic?"

"Entirely possibly!" Medic grinned wide, that smug, evil grin that lit up whenever the doctor was truly in deep on some new breakthrough. "With my newfound knowledge, I've realized that the mix of materials through which I ran an electrical current when I first developed the medigun—and later, the healing functionality for Engie's dispensers— seems to act in a similar fashion to spell components, the circuit itself almost a magic circle. So my current hypothesis is that I unintentionally constructed a complete spell, with the addition of electricity acting as the trigger rather than myself supplying the energy, in effect crafting a magic item that can be used by the layman! The beginnings of the idea came to me as I was learning about enchanting items, but this most recent spellwork has only helped to solidify what had merely been an inkling."

"And the thing you're puttin' in me?"

Medic held up a round stone, about the size of a quarter, polished to perfect smoothness. It was a dark pink in colour, and it glowed softly with a white light. "This!"

"...what is it?"

"A beryl! It is a stone that can be very useful as a component for healing and energy amplification, which is perfect as a focus for my experiment. You see, if the medigun is truly performing magic, the way the beam persists, continually healing, and tracks and locks onto subjects is still anomalous, as far as the spells I have found are concerned. But, if I can replicate the effects using a target that amplifies energy, something for the spell to...stick to, as it were, then perhaps I can more accurately analyze the results and reverse engineer exactly what it is that I even did in the first place!" Medic tittered, his excitement a bit overwhelming to the pain-addled faun.

"So," Scout began, his voice pinched with pain. He really wished Medic would just get on with it as he talked. "You don't even know how the medigun works?"

"Practically? Absolutely. It is very straightforward. Theoretically? Not even slightly," Medic chuckled, reaching up a hand and gently patting the mounted medigun. "I have been able to replicate the effect and even expand on it when constructing other mediguns, like the Kritzkrieg. The how is rather clear, but the why? An absolute mystery! Ha ha!"

Scout suddenly felt very nervous.

"So I will implant this beryl beacon that I have enchanted so that I may further study my own work and possibly reverse engineer greater technologies. Possibly even greater spells! And a magic item that casts a spell without knowledge of magic to use? Think of the possibilities!"

"I'm thinkin," Scout mumbled, already exhausted from pain.

"Forgive me, Spatz. I really should get to the procedure. After all, there will be plenty of time to theorize and self-aggrandize once you're back in one piece."

"Yeah, thanks, Doc," Scout barely ground out as Medic's hands entered his body cavity, wedging in at either side of his intestines and making him feel sick in ways he couldn't articulate, all the while the burning agony of having his insides manipulated eventually forced a whine out of him.

"Bitte, can you do me a favour and hold this for a moment? I need to get this low in your abdomen enough to not worry about the überheart implant interfering with it." Medic waited for Scout to hold out his hands, and lifted a few coiling feet of intestines and plopped them into said hands.

Scout could feel blackness closing in at the edges of his vision. Somewhere, idly in the back of his mind, he wondered if passing out and losing his spell would count as a failure to Spy.

"There!" Medic chirped, withdrawing his hand from Scout's abdomen, looking down at his work. "Nestled gently amid your small intestine, not too far from the bladder. I will still have to monitor for interference, at which point I will likely have to place it lower, though I am unsure where. It would make a rather poor third testicle!" Medic tittered at his awful joke, and lifted the intestines from Scout's hands, ignoring the addled faun's silence as he fought for consciousness. "Though resting it near your prostate could provide for...interesting interactions," he teased, waggling his pointed eyebrows. Once he had arranged Scout's innards back into place, he looked the faun over, eyes widening as he saw how wan and out of it Scout had become.

"Eheh, perhaps that was a bit much for you. I forget that not everyone has the constitution for such things that Heavy does. You've done well, Spatz. Let's get you closed up."

Scout mumbled something that might have been grateful, though Medic couldn't be sure it was even actually a response.

Medic removed his retractors and set them on his tray, then brought the mounted medigun to bear, turning up its painkilling setting to maximum and watching the colour return to Scout's cheeks as his eyes grew clearer and more alert. With a satisfied nod, he flipped the switch on the gun's power setting, kicking it into overcharge, a bright blue light suffusing Scout as his abdominal wall and skin knit closed, sealing his body back together without a mark to be found.

Scout took a deep breath on reflex, and laid a hand on his bare, intact belly with a sigh of relief. Blood from his hand smeared on his skin. He always hated being operated on, and Medic wasn't exactly known for his bedside manner. Having a strong stomach was almost required, and Scout had never been particularly suited for that. "We done?" he asked, his voice weaker than he'd like, all of the chemicals flooding his brain with big warning messages of BAD and DYING starting to leak away slowly.

"Indeed, and you were an excellent patient, Spatz." Medic pulled a lollipop from his breast pocket and handed it to Scout, the stick bloody from the doctor's unwashed hand. "Here is a treat for you."

Scout stared at it with amusement, then looked back up to Medic with a smirk.

"Unless," Medic began, lifting an eyebrow and utterly failing to look innocent, "you would prefer something else to suck on for your treat." He nearly banged his head against the medigun when Scout tugged him down to the table by his tie.

#TF2 Fanfic #Team Fortress 2 #TF2 Blunt Trauma #TF2 Medic #TF2 Scout #Monstrous Intent

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