Chapter Text
He didn’t even know what he had done; that was the worst part, Medic thought as he took another swig of his bottle of schnapps. It was the middle of the night, he was alone in the forest, drunk, and he didn’t know what he had done. He’d thought things between Heavy and him were good; they were good, surely…? They spent time together. Read together, painted, Heavy would gladly listen to Medic talk about surgical procedures for hours on end while Medic would happily sit as Heavy talked about Russian literature.
Everyone said it was perfect; everyone. So that’s why it was even more confusing when Heavy asked to separate.
“I am sorry, Doktor,” He said with that sorrowful look that Medic hated, “I do not think I can anymore.”
“But- why?!” He stuttered over his words. “i don’t- what did I do?”
“You did nothing-“ He tried to reassure, but was cut off.
“Don’t lie to me Misha! What did I do?!”
“…I will not talk to you like this. Go calm down.” And then he turned to walk away.
And instead of calming down? Here he was, drinking. He took another swig of schnapps, groaning to himself about it tasting like shit. The bottles green glass glimmered under the moons harsh glare, refracting prisims of colour across the soaked grass. God, he’d wanted this for a special occasion, hadn’t he. And here he was. Drinking. Medic took another swig, but this time kept downing the bottle until its contents were completely gone. Emptied down into his stomach because he couldn’t accept that there was no reason. The air around him was cold, he thought; and he should be cold. But of course, the alcohol stopped it. He squinted and tried to remember what exactly it did to his body, but all he could dredge up from his booze-addled mind were half-remembered textbooks and so he stopped trying.
Medic lets himself slide down the log he had been sitting on to sit on the wet grass. He didn’t care as it soaked through his coat. Didn’t care as his head lolled back to rest on a bump that pressed into his skull uncomfortably. The moon snarled at him, shuddering at the edges as his vision couldn’t quite focus on what was happening, but let him be aware that it was night and he was cold. He wasn’t sad anymore though. Just peaceful…probably why he liked this stuff so much in the first place. His chest felt cold and he looked down. Oh. When had that happened? His shirt was undone, his tie hanging limply around his neck. It’s so warm, he probably did that to cool down. Yeah. He rests his head back against the log and stares again. This place is pleasant. He likes it here. Maybe he could live here, like some forest being. Like a Leshy he used to be told about by his grandmother to scare him into behaving, living amongst animals and scaring anyone that came too near. His grandmother was dead now. He frowned. He’d forgotten about that. Medic rubbed his hand against his hair to feel something other than the wet grass or the soft cotton shirt he was wearing. It soaked onto his rubber gloves and glistened in the moonlight with the sheen of the nighttime. He kissed his hand and he wasn’t even sure why. Medic laid his head back against the log and stared up at the sky above him. Rustling came from the bush and he couldn’t bothered to look up.
“Medic?” A slurred voice called from the brush. He turned his head.
Sniper had his shirt unbuttoned, holding a bottle of brandy. Engineers brandy. Huh. “Sniper?” Medic wiped his mouth. “Vhat- Vhatare- are jou doing?” His accent was far stronger when he was drunk, it seemed. Sniper stumbled over and collapsed next to Medic. “Scout…broke up with me…” He downs more of the brandy and shudders. Oh. “Damn- zh-zhats bad-“ Medic burps and coughs into his hand. “I-I loved him…so- so much-“ He burps as well, leaning his head back on the log along with Medic’s. “‘M sorry…Zhat’s aw- awful.” He slurs, and turns his head to watch the way Sniper blankly stares up into the sky. He looks so…peaceful, Medic thinks. So calm. Despite the dried tear marks and the half-lidded gaze, he was peaceful and calm. It was…nice. So nice. Medic felt lonely, and cold. So cold. “Sn…sniper…” He mumbled. Sniper turned his head. Their noses brushed one another, a splash of warmth against the cold bright air. The men stared at each other, eyes focused entirely on the others face. It was cold, but Medic could feel Sniper’s breath brush against his face; warm. Real. Alive. And right here. Right now. In front of him.
He’d probably regret this later.
Medic pressed his lips to Sniper’s, hesitant at first as they brushed against one another, new to the feeling of contact. It didn’t take long before tongue pressed against teeth, before Medic could feel those sharp fangs Sniper had that he showed only when he smiled, the few times Medic had seen the genuine grin, glistening and white like the cruel moon above. Medic’s gloves tangled in Snipers mullet, tugging on the hair as he pushed the other man to the ground, damp soaking into their clothes but god neither of them cared and why did they? Why would it ever matter when they could feel this good? It didn’t. Medic’s glasses fell off somewhere along the way and Sniper’s shades were discarded in favour of Medic being able to stare into those pretty eyes unbidden. He’d never noticed it before, but Sniper had the most brilliantly amber eyes; eyes that would capture you in their haze, woven with brown so beautifully you would’ve thought you were directly staring into Heaven itself.
Medic’s mouth moved lower.
Such pretty sounds Sniper made when he bit right, “Mmh- mmh- fuck- Doc-“, a whine as he dragged his teeth over the necks skin, hot breath condensating with spittle as he bit down, tongue lapping against the exposed flesh. It was Sniper’s turn to tangle his hands in Medic’s hair, egging him on to go lower and lower. “Please-“ He whispered, “More.” And who was Medic to deny it? His tongue licked lower, just under the collarbone, as his teeth dug into tanned skin, tanned from years of sun against his that was rosy and porcelain from years of being inside. His hands pushed the shirt aside and he admired the sight. Defined pecs, covered in dark brown hair, on a lean body. Perfect, he thought, as his hands traced the skin.
“I wanna feel you.” Sniper mumbles, still drunk. “Take- take em off.” And who was Medic to say no?
Pale hands against tanned skin, moving lower as Medic bit and kissed and marked. His teeth grazed over Snipers navel, over his hips, anywhere his mouth could reach. Which was everywhere. Sniper grabbed him and pushed Medic to the ground, eliciting a surprised “Ooh-“ from the other man. He tore apart the shirt with his teeth, buttons discarded in favour of fingers that kneaded and touched the pliant body beneath. Medic’s breath came heavy and fast as Sniper, in turn, began to bite and suck and mark his body, nails digging into him only to leave little half circle indents, much like the moon above them not so many nights ago. “Ooh- ehh- gott im himmel-“ He hissed as Sniper hit a sensitive spot right on his side. “Zhere- ah- fuck- links links- mmhf-“ He arched off the ground slightly, Snipers fingers moving deftly to unbuckle the belt. God, even when he was drunk, he was so dexterous. “Nein-“ Medic suddenly speaks, grabbing his hand. “Not- not outside.” Sniper looks up, clearly desperate, but understanding. “M-my cam- ugh- campers- over there-“ He points in a general direction Medic didn’t see as he grabs their glasses and Snipers hat. They stumble up together, Medic’s vision spinning as he moved, relying on Sniper to stand properly. The second they both fell through the door, Medic didn’t wait for the bed.
He pushed Sniper against the sofa and forced his buckle off, tugging down the other mans pants. He didn’t really care what he had, all he cared about was forgetting. “Gleitmittel?” Medic’s eyes flicked up to Sniper. “You what?” He blinked. “Ach- l-lube.” He handed the bottle from the desk and Medic’s hands worked faster than he thought they’d ever done.
He never usually bottomed, he thought, as he grabbed onto Snipers couch. But today it was nessacary. It felt…warranted. Important. Good. Sweat mingled with sweat, moans filled the air in sweet symphony as they tangled around one another, limbs grabbing and pulling and touching. God, he had such a feverish need to touch like he’d never felt before; the need for it all to be warm, to burn against his skin, to feel something like pleasure. And he felt it.
Sniper tasted amazing, he thought between the booze that settled over his mind like a haze. He tasted sweet, and needy, and eager, and Medic needed it. He needed this more than he’d ever needed anything, as he moved faster, mouth on the other man, leaving hot marks of stinging need, letting his hair be pulled between blurred vision because he didn’t need to see when he could feel, and it felt amazing. It felt like heaven, and he thought he was near the end, and so was Sniper, teeth and tongues mingling, hands fisting in hair, blurred vision with unsteady legs, groans and whimpers and moans and pants as they tipped closer, closer, closer-
And then over the edge.
He didn’t think he’d felt such pleasure in his life.
Neither did Medic.
Medic collapsed on top of the other man, breaths shuddering to a halt as he nestled against him. His arms wrapped around Sniper; Snipers arms wrapped around him. They laid together - an exhausted, satisfied, tired, pleased mess.
Medic would definitely regret this later.
But not right now.