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typingatlightspeed · 11 months

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your writings are so good!! could i please request some heavymedic fluff where heavy tickles medic? he works too much and needs to relax yk? it would be really cute lol

Thank you so much! This was actually a pretty big challenge for me since IRL I fucking HATE being tickled, lol. So there's not a ton of appeal in writing it for me. (Which is weird because I DO have an NSFW tickling fic in the works but that is presented as torture, not romantic, so it's more akin to my feelings on the sensation lol.) But writing things that don't appeal to me has a lot of value in making me stretch out of my comfort zone, so thank you for requesting this, Anon! I hope it's to your liking, short as it may be on the actual tickling front.

TF2 Fanfic - Breaktime

Medic works too hard and misses dinner. Heavy, thankfully, saved him a plate, but is tired of Medic refusing to admit he's got a problem. So he torments him with tickles.

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Heavy rolled his eyes as he entered the infirmary. As expected, Medic was scribbling on a chalk board, making notes about notes that he had scrawled on a pad of paper clutched in one bloody hand. The blood had long since dried, turning a purple-brown colour that clung to the doctor's fingernails and cuticles, pinched in the folds of his knuckles and gripping at the follicles of the dark hair that dusted his forearms. The rest had been steadily flaking for what had probably been hours, and it looked almost more ridiculous than the fresh crimson that often stained his skin as he worked. Medic had been trying to puzzle out the results of his latest experiment for longer than it had taken him to run the experiment itself.

It surprised Heavy, honestly. Half of the time, Medic went into an experiment with a pretty solid idea of what he was looking for to start with, and often came to epiphanies while wrist-deep in someone's torso. To see a problem lasting this long, vexing him this thoroughly, was a rare and impressive sight. Unfortunately, it had also occupied the majority of Medic's day, and as such, the man had been nowhere to be seen when dinnertime had arrived and the rest of the team had all piled into mess for a bite.

Heavy had hoped he was just late, as he sometimes was, but when dinner came and went and the good doctor had yet to join them, he sighed, packed a plate for him, and set off to find him exactly where he'd expected him to be.

"Doktor?" Heavy ventured, not exactly inquiring so much as gently announcing his presence. He set the covered plate of something Pyro had called, "hamburger a la king," on a gurney, and closed the door behind him.

"Schatz, how are you? Do you need something?" Medic asked, half-turning to his lover with a smile, his eyes not leaving his notes as he paged through them.

"You miss dinner," Heavy replied plainly, crossing his arms.

"Nonsense, I will be right there. Go on without me, Schatz, I'll catch up." Medic waved him off, setting down the notebook and looking to his blackboard, chalk pressed to it but unmoving as he thought.

"Not you will miss dinner," Heavy corrected. "You have missed dinner." He pointed with annoyance at the plate on the gurney, frustrated at having to dig up awkward English tenses to make his point. "Dinner is over. I bring you plate."

"Over?" Medic asked, finally looking away from his work to his lover, recoiling a bit as he saw the larger man's expression of annoyance. "Eheh, oh, is it that late already? I did not realize."

"Obvious."

Medic tittered a little nervously at that, setting his chalk down. "Danke for the plate, Schatz," he ventured, clapping the chalk and more flakes of dried blood from his hands as he approached the larger man, putting on his best 'weaseling out of trouble' smile. "You take such good care of me."

"Doktor should take more care of self," Heavy chastised, crossing his arms again, closing himself off from the smaller man. It was exhausting, getting the doctor to practice the barest modicum of self-care when it came to eating and sleeping. His excitement for his experiments and tendency to hyperfocus on them made it more than a bit difficult to tear him away from whatever task he had thrown himself full-bodied into. Then when Medic would be exhausted and sloppy on the field, or worse, would get sick from wearing himself down, he would act like he had no idea why it had happened.

"You are right, mein Kuschelbär. I really must keep better track of myself," Medic admitted, smiling adoringly up at his lover. "I am lucky that you are here to take care of me."

It was an old saying that doctors make terrible patients, and Heavy absolutely could not argue with it. He'd witnessed it basically personified in his beloved Medic, and the man was frankly fortunate he was so handsome and charming, otherwise Heavy would be able to stay angry with him far more readily.

As it was, he found himself quickly losing the will to fight as Medic's blue eyes looked up at him with such adoration and gratitude, as obviously affected and intended to manipulate as it was. He was entirely too good at getting his way.

"Are grown man. Should take care of self. I am not your papa," Heavy grumbled, his resolve fading.

"I should, and I am sorry," Medic sighed. Heavy was right, even if he didn't like to hear it. "I simply have been so invested in this latest experiment! The results of my tests were not at all what I expected, and exploratory implantation and stress-testing did not yield results in line with my models at all! So I have basically spent all day re-tracing my steps and re-examining my notes from each step of the experiment to see where exactly I went wrong. Or at least, where the deviation between expectation and reality truly began, so that I can understand what went wrong. You see?" He gestured to the chalk board, covered in diagrams and notes in the doctor's terrible handwriting, illegible to basically anyone but Medic himself.

Heavy scratched his chin. "No. But I am sure you will figure it out, Doktor. You are genius."

"Danke, Schatz—"

"But you will figure out nothing unless you can think clearly. You cannot think clearly without food and rest. You work too hard, bake brain."

"Do you mean I will fry my brain?" "Fry, bake. Brain will cook. Does not matter how."

Medic nodded. He understood what Heavy was getting at, and now that he mentioned it, he was feeling a bit foggy. "You are right. Perhaps I should rest a bit, come at this fresh after a meal and some diversion."

"Yes. I am right. Doktor works too hard," Heavy prodded, finally uncrossing his arms and allowing Medic to step closer, encircling him and squeezing him close.

"I do not think I work too hard; I am merely passionat—"

"Work too hard," Heavy insisted, digging a thumb into Medic's rib, at a spot he knew very well as being ticklish.

Medic squawked and wriggled in the giant's grasp, only to discover to his horror that he'd let down his defenses, and was held tight. He looked up into Heavy's eyes, his own wide, to find that impish sparkle that he both loved and feared so much. A grin spread across the giant's face as he dug his fingers into Medic's side, wiggling them and drawing a yelp out of him as the sharp yet wobbling pang of ticklishness shot through him, making him writhe in Heavy's grasp, trying to escape.

"Nein! No! Ahahaha—Heavy!" he gasped, reflexive laughter making the fight to speak a difficult one. His diaphragm heaved as all of his muscles contracted and fought, his body jerking away from the teasing touches that assailed him.

Heavy chuckled, untucking Medic's shirt to better get at his bare torso. His fingertips skirting over warm skin, making him howl and swat, shoving the heel of his hand into his lover's cheek to push him away, to push himself away, to try and find any purchase with which he could extricate himself from the giant's grasp. He kicked to no avail, unable to find a target, simply squirming and flailing as Heavy continued his assault. "Misha! Ahahaha, no! Stop!"

"Not until you admit you work too hard," Heavy tutted, one hand ranging down to the smaller man's hip and squeezing just right to make him shriek, every single touch only fueling the furor of Medic's body's reaction. Every nerve lit up as ticklish now, even just the pressure of the giant's arms around him. Even a soft caress made him titter and jerk, and Heavy gleefully weaponized it to both torment his lover and sneak a few cheeky gropes along the way.

"I do not work too hard!" Medic maintained, panting, clutching at Heavy's shoulders in attempt to wrench himself free, only for his strength to leave him as he bolted upright amid more ticklish touches. He giggled uncontrollably, beginning to panic, scrabbling at Heavy's arms in a bid for escape. "I—ahahaha-simply—ahahaha—leck mich am Arch will you let me go?!"

"You forget to eat and sleep. Passion is one thing, but not taking care of self is stupid," Heavy harrumphed, ignoring Medic's cursing and grabbing him about the waist with one hand, fingers digging in where his hip began to curve out, his other hand coming up to prod in at the crux of the doctor's neck, making him crush his shoulder up to try and force him away. It only succeeded in trapping those fingers there, letting him wiggle them just enough to have Medic nearly screaming. "You are not stupid man."

Medic felt like he was going to faint, gasping for air as he convulsed and struggled, his whole body wrenching about in involuntary spasms, panic sluicing through him. "Fine! Fine! I work too hard! I am sorry! Bitte, please let me go!" he pleaded, tears pricking at his eyes.

Heavy relented, going still, letting Medic sag in his arms before carefully removing his fingers from those ticklish spots, trying not to reignite his over-active nerves. He wrapped his arms gently around the smaller man in a hug, careful where he let his hands rest. "Good. Want my Doktor safe and healthy. Do not want to outlive you because you work self to death."

Medic slumped against Heavy, burying his face in the taller man's chest. "You need not worry about that, Schatz. I have at least fifty more years in me."

"You say that like it is true."

Medic smiled against Heavy's chest. He took a deep breath of his lover's scent, and stood back up straight, his arms coming to circle Heavy's middle. "It is a promise," he replied.

Heavy chuckled at this. Such wishful thinking. Another fifty years with this man would be heaven, in spite of how much he tasked him at times. He'd deal with the devil himself if he could make that true. "Good. Now eat your dinner. It is getting cold."

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