TEAM FORTRESS SYSTEM OVERRIDE
Crimson Tides and Static Hearts
The morning sun over the New Mexico desert was an unforgiving witness to Jeremy’s physical ruin. Every time he shifted his weight to reach for his locker, a sharp, white-hot bolt of lightning shot from his lower back directly into his brain. His shoulder wasn't doing much better; it felt like a branding iron had been pressed into the skin, a souvenir from Ethan’s teeth that throbbed with every heartbeat.
He was moving like a man three times his age, gingerly hanging up his jacket when a muffled, mechanical whistle sounded behind him.
Scout nearly jumped out of his skin, hissing as his muscles protested. He turned to find Pyro standing there, tilted head obscured by the gas mask, staring intently at the dark, jagged bruise blooming over Scout's collarbone. Pyro pointed a rubber-gloved finger at the mark, letting out a series of inquisitive, muffled hums.
"It’s nothin', Mumbles," Scout snapped, quickly pulling his shirt over his head. "I tripped. Hit the corner of a crate. You know how it is. Clumsy."
Pyro didn't move. He tilted his head the other way, his goggles reflecting Scout’s guilty expression. He let out a low, disapproving sound—the kind a mother makes when she catches a kid with his hand in the cookie jar—and then mimicked a biting motion with his hands.
Scout sighed, his shoulders slumping. He looked around to make sure the room was empty. "Alright, fine! You caught me. It was the Hacker, okay? We... we had a night. A real night. But listen to me, you can't tell nobody! Not the Soldier, not the Demo, and especially not the Spy. He’d never let me hear the end of it."
Pyro clapped his hands together, let out a joyful, high-pitched squeal, and performed a little celebratory hop. He seemed genuinely ecstatic that his two teammates had finally stopped bickering and started... whatever this was.
"Yeah, yeah, it’s a miracle," Scout muttered, his face heating up. "Just keep it under the mask, alright?"
The camaraderie lasted until Ethan walked into the room.
The Hacker looked radiant. Despite the early hour, his pastel-pink hair was perfectly styled, and he moved with a smug, cat-like grace. When he saw Scout, his yellowish eyes lit up with a predatory warmth. He sauntered over, leaning one arm against the locker next to Scout’s head.
"Morning, *bonitinho*," Ethan purred, his voice dropping into that low, vibrating register that usually made Scout’s knees weak. "You look like you're hurting. Need me to kiss it better?"
He reached out, his fingers grazing Scout’s jawline, but Scout flinched away as if he’d been burned. He slammed his locker shut, his eyes darting around the room.
"Not now, Ethan," Scout hissed, his voice cold. "We’re at work. Act like a professional for once."
The smile vanished from Ethan’s face, replaced by a flash of genuine hurt, followed quickly by a sharp, jagged anger. "Professional? Jeremy, we were literally tangled in my bed four hours ago. Don't pull this 'strangers' bullshit with me."
"I said not now!" Scout barked, grabbing his scattergun and storming out of the locker room without a backward glance.
The mission that followed was a disaster of silence. Scout stayed on the opposite side of the battlefield, pushing his speed to the limit just to stay away from the tech van. Every time Ethan tried to coordinate over the comms, Scout ignored him, responding only to Miss Pauling or the Engineer. By the time they were cleared to leave for the weekend, the air between them was thick enough to choke on.
They left the base separately. Kay, sensing the tension, had invited the whole "younger" crowd to a beach party a few miles down the coast—a rare chance to blend in with civilian tourists.
When Scout arrived, the sun was setting, painting the waves in shades of bruised purple and gold. He spotted Ethan almost immediately. The Hacker was wearing a tiny, high-waisted bikini set with a sheer sarong, looking so effortlessly beautiful it made Scout’s stomach ache. But Ethan wasn't alone.
A tall man with vibrant red hair and striking green eyes was standing far too close to him. He spoke with a thick, melodic accent—Norwegian, maybe—and was laughing at something Ethan said, his hand resting familiarly on Ethan’s hip.
Scout felt a dark, oily surge of jealousy. He stayed back, nursing a beer, watching as the redhead leaned in, whispering something into Ethan’s ear. Ethan pushed him away, his expression annoyed, but the man didn't take the hint.
Scout couldn't take it anymore. He marched over, his chest puffed out. "Hey! Problem here?"
Ethan looked at Scout, his eyes cold and unimpressed. "No problem, Scout. Just an old ghost."
The redhead turned, his green eyes scanning Scout with dismissive amusement. "And who is this? A little brother? A bodyguard?"
"I’m the guy who’s gonna put your teeth down your throat if you don't back off," Scout snarled.
"Bryan, leave it," Ethan said, his voice flat. "I’ve told you three times I’m not interested. We’re exes for a reason. Go back to Oslo."
Bryan chuckled, reaching out to stroke a strand of Ethan’s pink hair. "Oh, come now, babe. I know you miss my 'buddy' here. We were good together. Better than you’ll ever be with a little street rat like this."
Scout stifled a laugh, the sheer arrogance of the guy fueling his rage. "His 'buddy'? Is that what you call it? That’s pathetic."
"Jeremy, I don't need your help," Ethan snapped, turning his back on both of them. "I’m going to get a drink. Both of you can go to hell."
Ethan walked away, the sway of his hips a taunt to both men. Bryan watched him go, a dark, possessive glint in his eyes. He looked at Scout and smirked. "I’ll make him want to get back together. One way or another. He always comes back to what’s familiar."
Bryan turned and started walking toward a secluded, rocky stretch of the beach, presumably to wait for Ethan to cool off.
Scout didn't think. He didn't weigh the consequences. He just followed.
The shadows of the rocks swallowed the music from the party. Bryan was standing by the tide pools, lighting a cigarette. He didn't hear Scout coming until it was too late.
Scout didn't use his gun. He used a heavy, jagged stone from the shore. The first blow caught Bryan behind the ear, sending him crashing into the shallow water.
"He ain't yours," Scout hissed, his voice trembling with a terrifying, quiet fury. "He was never yours. He’s mine. You don't even get to look at him."
He didn't stop until the water around Bryan’s head turned a deep, murky crimson. Scout stood there for a long time, the waves washing over his boots, cleaning the blood from the rocks. He felt a strange, cold clarity. He wasn't a hero; he was a mercenary. And he protected his assets.
He returned to the party, his heart hammering against his ribs. He found Ethan sitting alone at a far table, staring out at the dark ocean.
"Ethan," Scout whispered, coming up behind him. "Can we talk? Somewhere else. Away from the crowd."
Ethan looked at him, his brow furrowed. "Where’s Bryan?"
"He’s gone. He won't be botherin' you again. Ever."
Ethan’s yellowish eyes widened as he saw the faint, dark splatters on Scout’s white shirt. He didn't ask for details. He knew the look in a killer’s eyes. "Jeremy... what did you do?"
"He deserved it," Scout said, his voice cracking. "Let’s just go. Please."
They drove to the small, tidy house Ethan kept near the coast. The silence in the car was deafening. When they stepped inside, Scout finally collapsed against the door, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"I’m gonna lose my job," Scout choked out, tears finally pricking his eyes. "If the Administrator finds out... if the cops show up... I ruined everything. I just wanted to keep you. I didn't want anyone else touchin' you."
Ethan watched him, his expression unreadable. Then, he walked over and pulled Scout into a firm, grounding hug. "Jeremy, look at me."
Scout looked up, his face a mess of sweat and tears.
"Half the team already knows about us," Ethan said softly. "Pyro, Sniper, even Spy has been dropping hints. The Administrator doesn't care who you sleep with as long as you keep killing for her. And as for Bryan... he was a ghost. No one is going to look for him."
"You... you ain't mad?"
"I’m a Hacker, Jeremy. I’ve erased people from existence with a keystroke. You just did it with your hands." Ethan leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Scout’s lips. "Stop shaking. You’re safe."
Scout reciprocated the kiss with a desperate, clawing hunger. "I’m scared, Ethan. I’m scared of losin' this."
"Let’s forget about the world for a minute," Ethan whispered, his hands sliding down to Scout’s belt. "I’ll let you do whatever you want to me. Anything. Just make yourself feel better."
Scout didn't hesitate. He picked Ethan up, carrying him to the bed with a possessive strength. This time, there was no hesitation, no "first-time" nerves. There was only a dark, overwhelming need to mark what was his.
He stripped Ethan slowly, his eyes drinking in the dark skin and the curves he had dreamed about all day. He used his teeth and his hands, leaving bruises and marks on Ethan’s thighs and chest, frustrated that the marks didn't show as brightly as he wanted on the deep tone of Ethan’s skin.
"Jeremy," Ethan breathed, his head falling back. "The neighbors... they’re right outside the window... be quiet..."
"No," Scout growled, pinning Ethan’s legs back. "I want 'em to hear. I want everyone to know who you belong to."
"Or what?" Ethan provoked, a smirk playing on his lips even as he trembled. "You’re the fastest, aren't you? Make me understand why."
Scout’s eyes darkened. "I’m gonna make you scream my name, Ethan. I’m gonna make you forget anyone else ever touched you."
He slammed into Ethan with a sudden, violent speed. The bed frame groaned and creaked against the wall, the rhythm frantic and unrelenting. Scout was a blur of motion, his body working with a mechanical, tireless efficiency.
Ethan let out a loud, unrestrained cry, his fingers digging into the mattress. "Jeremy! *Sim*... more... please!"
"You're mine," Scout barked, his voice raw. "Every inch of this. Mine. You hear me?"
"Yes!" Ethan sobbed, his body shaking with the force of the pleasure. "Yours! Only yours!"
Scout didn't stop until Ethan was incoherent, calling out his name in a desperate, broken loop. When they finally collapsed, Scout didn't pull away. He stayed heavy on top of him, his face buried in Ethan’s neck.
"Don't you ever avoid me at work again," Ethan whispered, his voice hoarse. "Don't you ever make me feel like I’m nothing to you."
Scout didn't answer with words. He just shifted, rolling them over so he could hug Ethan from behind, his arms locked tight around the Hacker’s waist, his chin resting on Ethan’s shoulder. He held him like a prize, like a secret, like the only thing in the world that mattered. Outside, the rain began to fall again, washing away the blood on the beach, leaving only the two of them in the quiet, dark house.