Author’s Note: This is a VERY old story I wrote in February 2013, with some minor revisions (mostly to the dialogue). As a result, the characterization (especially with Vincent, who was written a bit more closely to canon!Scout than his usual self) is a bit odd, even with the changes. With that said, it's still an important piece of SnS history, being written around the same time as the original prologue. Also, it's the first major crossover with OFF, with the Batter as one of the major characters in-story.
The lounge room is abuzz as the BLU mercenaries gather together, wondering why their Medic have brought them here. The only one with butterflies in the pit of their stomach is the Scout, who is all too used to the eccentric doctor's antics. After many moments of anxious waiting, the tall and pudgy BLU Medic enters.
“Everyone,” he says with a smile on his face. “May I have your attention please?”
The others are too preoccupied with their current conversations. The irritation is visible on the old man's face. “I said, 'May I have your attention please?'” He says, projecting his voice and clapping his hands for emphasis.
Immediately, the mercs shut up and turn to face him. The doctor has a way of commanding attention, one of many reasons why most consider him as the closest thing to a team leader. “Now zhat I have your attention,” he says, his cheerful demeanor back and stronger than ever, “I have an announcement. As you all know, Valentine's Day is tomorrow, and I know it is very important to some of you.” He catches a glance of the Spy, whose excitement is far from hidden. “Sadly, because of vork, ve might not be able to celebrate it as ve vould like to. So I have taken the initiative and planned a very special event for all of us here at BLU.”
Wary but interested, the mercenaries begin to mutter to each other. “But zhere is a catch. All of you must give a Valentine to at least one of your teammates by zhe end of zhe day. Ozhervise, you vill be penalized. Und I'll cut your paycheck.”
All around, the voices of the outraged ring out their protests.
“You can't do that!”
“That's not fair!”
“Is that even legal?”
The Medic raises a hand to silence them. “But zhere is an upside. Whoever receives zhe most Valentines vill get a special revard.” The crowd, amazed and baffled, starts chattering amongst themselves.
The Scout is as surprised as everybody else, but at the same time, wary. The doctor is generally supportive of his troops, but can also be rather harsh, even to the Scout. He is, after all, the young merc's godfather, and the closest thing to a paternal figure here in the badlands. Still, the fact that they're related does little to reduce his tension; it's quite possible the risks could be even greater for him, should he fail. His eyes scan the room for potential receivers of the chocolate he will undoubtedly buy from the local store, and spots a few familiar faces.
The Sniper—Mortimer Mundy—is surprisingly popular, despite his eccentric nature. He's a big goofball who livens up the atmosphere with a hug and a smile; even those annoyed by him prefer to stay on his good side. The Spy, while also nice and quirky, is a little more down-to-earth, and is the only one who's kept his cool throughout the announcement. However, he already seems to have his mind dead-set on Mort, thus making both of them inaccessible. The Demoman's always busy, the Soldier's too grumpy, the Heavy has a way of unintentionally patronizing him, and Pyro's, well, Pyro. Scout is about to consider the Engineer when he notices another figure, leaning against the wall on the other end of the room.
The figure, at first glance, looks just like any other Scout. But closer inspection reveals otherwise: he's taller and paler, with more masculine features, and his outfit more closely resembles an archetypal baseball uniform than the Scout's more casual ensemble. Right away, the Scout's anxiety washes over, leaving behind a feeling of relief.
In time, the commotion quells down, and the room trickles down in number, until only the Scout and the Medic remain.
“So, Vincent, have any ideas?” The Medic queries, his jolly mood returning.
Thrown off by the statement, the Scout stammers a reply. “N-nothing in particular.”
“Relatives don't count, you know.”
“What do you think I am, some kind of loner?” Vincent crosses his arms and averts his gaze.
“I know, I know. Still, sometimes I vorry. You're zhe youngest member here, and... vell... I fear you might feel a little bit left out sometimes. You never fare vell vith Valentine's Day.”
Vincent doesn't say anything at first. He doesn't want to admit his loneliness, especially during a time when it's discouraged. “Left out? I have plenty of friends around here. I promise you, I will make this Valentine's Day the best I've ever had.”
The Medic lets out a hearty chuckle and wraps his arm around the Scout. “Sure you vill, boy.”
“Now you're just teasing me.” The young man tries to push the larger man's arm away, only to be further constricted by him.
“I mean it, Vince.” The fat doctor embraces the smaller boy. “You're a smart boy. Why, I bet you've already got plenty of ideas in that little head of yours!” He lets go and ruffles the Scout's hair. “Surprise me tomorrow, Kaninchen.” The doctor gives Vincent one last smile before leaving the lounge to catch up with the Heavy.
~ ~ ~
Dawn breaks upon the BLU fortress, and the most hectic Valentine's Day ever begins. All the mercs, having purchased or made their chocolates and Valentines ahead of time, are scrambling to get rid of as many of their chocolates as possible. It's quite obvious who is doing it out of charity and who's doing it for their own gain. But reward or not, at least nobody will be left out. Or so the Scout thought.
Throughout the morning, Vince has caught glances at the other Scout, and eventually a pattern starts forming in his head. During the times when he's not out fighting, he's often seen empty-handed and alone. As his roommate, Vince has noticed little things about the other man, like his preference for black coffee and his difficulty distinguishing between colors (which had caused the BLU team some trouble a while back). He never was popular with the other mercs, but on a day when he's finally receiving attention, he pushes them away. The question is... why?
Vincent doesn't have much time to think about it, as his attention keeps being diverted by his other colleagues. As it turns out, Duncan isn't as busy as the Scout predicted, and Mortimer has managed to break away from the Spy's grasp long enough to exchange chocolates with him. Even Miller seems to tolerate his presence for once. It seems that everyone wants to give him something, though Vince is unsure of why. Perhaps he's more popular than even he expected. Not that he was ever unpopular; though neurotic and uptight he may be, he's still a valuable part of the team, and deserves the respect of his older teammates. Or maybe they’re just looking for that “special reward”, he ponders, growing disappointed.
Later that day, after a particularly gruesome shift at Teufort, Vincent decides to head to the town in search for a last-minute gift for the other Scout. The storefronts are decorated with frills and silk ribbons, and display heart-shaped boxes of assorted chocolates and cute teddy bears bearing sickeningly sweet messages. Vince enters the convenience store, and is greeted by a flurry of pink, red, and white. The whole thing makes the young man embarrassed to be there. He marches on anyway.
Browsing through the aisles, the Scout sifts through the plethora of boxes of candies. His sweet tooth is tempted by all the sugary treats before him, and his thoughts shift down a more selfish direction…
“Hi zhere!”
The Scout drops the box he was holding and turns to face the source of the voice behind him. Standing there, giggling behind a stuffed koala, is the BLU Spy. The Spy picks up the box and grins mischievously. “Buying chocolates for a special someone, I see. So tell me: who is it?”
Vince swipes the box from him and puts it back. “Definitely not for you!” He pauses to glance at the stuffed koala. “Is that for Mort? I thought you already gave him something.”
The Spy’s face becomes flustered underneath his balaclava as he hides the bear behind him. “Ah, yes. W-well, zhat is anozher matter entirely. So, how’s Valentine’s Day going for you?”
“Okay, I guess. I got something from everyone except Hartmann and Batter…”
“Le Batteur? You don’t mean zhat weirdo Scout who sits in the corner, brooding and shit? I tried giving him chocolate earlier today, and he rejected me outright!” He scoffs and mutters French insults under his breath.
“Wait, he rejected you?”
“Oui. He’s been putting down everybody’s gifts all day, zhe little creep!”
The Scout ponders over this revelation as he changes the subject. “Oh… Well, any luck with Hartmann?”
The Spy gives an exasperated sigh. “Nobody’s had any luck with zhe Medic. I’m beginning to think he tricked us.” Vincent doesn’t even bother to protest; moody though he may be, the Spy is hardly ever wrong about these things. The Spy stops to take a glance at his watch and says with a tone of anxiety in his voice, “I should go now. I’ll see you back at zhe fort!” Cradling the bear with one arm, he waves to the Scout as he makes a mad dash out of the store. For a brief moment, Vince could have sworn the stuffed koala looks awfully familiar.
Turning his attention back to the candy rack, Vince begins to mull over his observations. If the Batter’s been turning down everybody, there’s probably a good reason for it. Come to think of it, does he even like candy? He’s seen Batter chewing gum on occasions, and they once spent an evening together eating popcorn while watching horror films, so it’s not like he hates all junk food. But something’s not right. He must be missing something important…
That morning, the Batter woke up and made coffee for the both of them. As his flatmate left his coffee unattended, the Scout noticed that the drink was deep blackish-brown, almost like molasses. He's always so bitter and dull; he could use something sweet. The Scout scooped a few spoonfuls of sugar into his mug, and then several more into the other one. It was meant to be a joke, but the Batter wasn’t laughing. At all. After receiving an earful, the Scout sat back and watched as the other man stormed out of the room, never returning for that remainder of the day.
The Scout feels a need to slap himself in the forehead. Of course! How could I have been so stupid? Having completed the puzzle, he sets out in search of a more appropriate gift. But the store—big and varied as it was—doesn’t have much to offer in the way of Valentine’s Day presents. Considering how girly and romanticized the holiday is, there aren’t a lot of options for a guy trying to buy something for his friend. Vincent is beginning to think he’s running out of options—and time. But just as he starts to walk out of the shop, his eye catches sight of the perfect gift.
~ ~ ~
Once again, Hartmann has ordered everyone to gather around at the lounge room, under the pretense of announcing the “winners” of his little game. Some of the mercs have scared looks on their faces; going against the doctor’s orders, they’ve taken nibbles at some of their chocolates, or eaten a good chunk of it before arriving. The Spy doesn’t appear to be worried—in fact, he looks quite content. The reason becomes obvious, as he hands the stuffed koala—a cleaned-up and redressed Li'l Bruce—to a pleasantly surprised Mortimer.
But the Scout is not too concerned about their issues. For him, the Batter is his utmost priority. But he is nowhere in sight.
“Everyone, before ve start counting, I have an announcement to make. First off, I am sorry for zhe lack of consideration from my end. Zhat is because I vas busy with my gift to all of you. Pasha, if you vould please.”
On cue, the Heavy standing closest to him rushes out of the room and returns a moment later, wheeling in a snack cart covered with a tablecloth. “Gentlemen, I offer you...” The Medic dramatically pulls the cloth off, unveiling a massive chocolate heart. “ZHIS! Happy Valentine's Day, from me to you.” After taking a moment to witness the mercenaries' surprised and slightly baffled reactions, he says, “Vell? Vhat are you vaiting for? Dig in!”
Before anybody else could do so, Mortimer speaks up. “But what about the contest? Dontcha have t' declare a winner or somethin'?”
“Ah, ja. About zhat... Zhere is no contest.” The mercs become furious, but the Medic quells them down with the raise of his hand. “But for all your efforts today, I declare you all vinners! Your paychecks vill come in zhe mail tomorrow morning, raise and all.”
Delighted by the news, all the men cheer and celebrate with chocolate, wine, and good fun. But while Vince appears to be enjoying himself with his friends here at the base, a nagging feeling continues to eat away at him, and he finds himself unable to eat or drink anything. The doctor notices this and approaches him.
“Dear Kaninchen, vhy zhe long face? I thought you'd be happy to hear zhe news.”
“I do! It's just... Well... It's about the Batter. I dunno why, but I can't help but feel sorry for him, somehow. And he's not even here! It's like...” He bites his lower lip, unable to express his thoughts.
The Medic smiles gently and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Vell, if you must go, I von't hold it against you.” He takes the slice of chocolate from the Scout and sets it aside. “I'll save zhis for later. Hop along now, little rabbit.”
The message is clear as day. Vincent smiles back and he hugs the plump Medic before running off.
~ ~ ~
When the Scout enters his dorm, he is kindly welcomed by clean floors, redecorated walls and furniture, and—most notably—a candle-lit table. Vincent instantly recognizes the handiwork as the Batter’s, due to the excessive use of white (what little color is present is portrayed in various pastel hues, the result of the man’s color-blindness).
As the young man is about to sit down, he is suddenly thrown against the counter and greeted with a baseball bat squeezed tightly against his throat. The owner of the bat—and the body pressed against him—can only belong to one person. “You dare trespass in our domain, Valdo?” The Scout cannot see the attacker’s face too well in the shadows of the candle light, but the voice, deep and smooth like silk, is, without a doubt, the Batter’s.
The Scout struggles in vain to fight off the man. “It’s me… Vincent!”
“If you’re really Vincent, then prove it.”
Vince manages to loosen the bat’s grip from his throat long enough to speak. “Remember that one time we went to the movies, and you were talking about how those ghosts were totally fake and ‘unghostly’ while I was pissing my pants in fright? That was the first time I’ve heard you laugh since we first met.”
A heavy silence permeates the room as the two Scouts exchange stares. Then the Batter steps back, allowing the Scout to go free. Immediately, Vincent’s mind wanders off to the present in his backpack, which he’s still wearing. “Aw, great, it’s probably ruined by now.” He unzips the pack and whips out a heart-shaped candy box, which he offers to the Batter. “Anyway, here.”
The Batter reluctantly takes the box and looks at it. It looks like any other store-bought chocolate, but the label on the front says “Sugar-free White Chocolate”. There’s a tremor of vulnerability in his voice. “You really didn’t have to do this…”
“’Course I do! After what I did to you this morning, I had to make up for it somehow.” The Scout’s voice softens. “Besides, I noticed you were rejecting everybody else’s gifts, so I thought…”
“It wasn’t simply because of the gifts they were offering. I rejected them on the grounds of their impure motives. I know I'm not exactly popular with the others, especially after my actions back then. The fact that I’m not exactly part of the team does little to build their trust of me. And with the contest going on, I assumed they were just giving me things out of pity. So I turned them all down.”
The Scout is initially baffled by what he’s hearing, but upon further thought, what the Batter says rings true. “So, are you gonna turn me down, too?”
The Batter says, “Why should I? You’re the only one who took me into consideration.” He glances at the chocolate box in his hands, then turns his attention back to Vince. “I don’t believe I will be able to eat all of this. Would you mind if I split this with you?”
The Scout happily accepts, and the Batter sets the chocolate down on the table. Using a sharp knife from the silverware drawer, he cuts off the rounded parts of the heart shape and hands them to his dorm mate. “Interesting... The cut’s a bit off, but does this remind you of anything?” He holds up the remaining piece of chocolate to show off.
“Hey, it looks just like home base!” The two laugh. “Hey, you know, instead of attacking me straight up, how ‘bout we come up with an easier system?” Vincent claps his two hands together and splits them apart until only their fingertips touch, forming a diamond shape from the space between them. “Maybe we can use this as a symbol that we recognize each other. And maybe we'll throw in a password or something.”
“But what if Valdo catches on?”
“Hey, even if he’s aware of what’s going on, he’ll still have no clue, because he won’t understand what it means. The question is, do you trust me?”
The Batter thinks long and hard about it, before finally replying with a diamond and a smile.
~ ~ ~
Since that night, whenever the Batter and the Scout cross paths in the fortress or around town, one of them would flash a diamond, and the other would do the same. Depending on the situation, sometimes they would vary the manner in which the diamond is formed—they might just use two fingers from each hand or use whatever they have on hand. And none of the other members on either side are the wiser.
As for the Medic, well, he has a lot of explaining to do about all the IOU notes he left in everybody’s paycheck envelopes the following morning.
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