Chapter Text
BLU Pyro's 'Bedroom'
Quiet calm settled over the dulling land of Harvest as an early morning drizzle progressively swelled into what the bitter arsonist could only describe as sewers opening from the sky and drowning the former farmland with such a.. droning sort of fluid. Not that that he thought the water itself made that noise, no, he's not like that lobotomite RED counterpart of his, but the pyro wouldn't be surprised if a droning noise did emerge from the suffocating black outside the 'rest-up' base a bit a ways down the path of harvest. Looking out there is what he imagines looking at the bottom of the ocean must feel like, ominous and appearing to be ever stretching land thanks to how thick the clouds have gotten.. Blocks out most of the sunlight outside.. Not that Pyro's actually looking outside. Currently both teams have mutually agreed on a ceasefire for the day because oh the rain's just coming down so much! Sure we've been been through blizzards and heatwaves in deserts but this rain is just too bad!
Both sides mutually playing up their respective excuses so they can a take few extra paid days off just to relax. To be fair the mundanity of the rain seems to bore, even depress them in comparison to the more extreme weather, but it'd be a lot more tolerable if both teams mutually spoke to each other honestly, wouldn't it? Not that Pyro really cared all too much in the end since, frankly, he isn't going outside in the rain regardless of a ceasefire and not even the fucking Heavy can make him. The rain it- it's just disgusting, weird and wrong! It is NOT meant to be a thing, it's not meant to be a.. a real, actual working thing, water teleporting up like that only to splash down is just.. what? Wasteful, who the fuck is doing it and why?
Hell, how are they doing that? It's terrifying that someone can just mass teleport water into the sky like this every so often, passively accepted by everyone below but himself. Even getting past that strangeness, the mundanity seems false, unreal, it's probably very much a trap to lower ones guard. Shaking himself out of his thoughts and back to whats in front of him, Pyro lets out an irritated click of the tongue at the sight of the partially damaged doll before him, turning it in his hand as he realizes his hands weren't doing their thing while he stares off into space like they usually do. Flipping the thing back to front like how he wishes he could with the real BLU Spy, slightly tempted to actually have a 'go at it' again, though shame coils its cold body around his stomach and rests there at the memory of doing that getting his mind focusing back on the delicate task of repairing this hand-made spy doll. Gloved rubber fingers pinch the end of the needle with a practiced familiarity, part of him wants to show off his skills as a seamster to the other men with how well he's gotten! But given the only product of his skills is small dolls of them, ehh.. It also runs the risk of them finding out what he tried to do yesterday.
What was Pyro trying to accomplish, anyways?
Sure he's heard stories from guys trying to impress him about all of the exciting things they've done to girls, sometimes what they wanted to do him uncomfortably enough, but Pyro wasn't and isn't a girl nor are any girls really involved. He clicks his tongue to himself as he does up the tear- more of a purposeful hole, really - on the Spy doll's mouth with a running stitch since he wanted to put a little smile or.. general expression on the thing. Rain continues its usual ambiance throughout this process, but this fire prone creature finds himself gradually pushing it to the back of his mind while he works, questions pressing themselves in their stead.
For example, were the guys 'back then' being literal or metaphorical? Does it really just stop with sticking your tongue in someones mouth after, from what he can gather, having an months worth of an infection of caterpillars in your stomach (How else do you get butterflies in your tummy)? Then again the sky randomly goes dark and that possibly causes the sky to start shitting itself with water or whatever the hell, so it wouldn't surprise Pyro if that were the case, espically since children apparently came from flowers before they're adopted at the orphanages.
"Butterflies pollinate flowers.."
He mutters as his hand pats the stitch, he'll leave it for now since it'd be too much of a bother to go out of his room to get scissors. It's still raining heavily, so with nothing better to do, Pyro decides to start beating the cotton out of the thing he just repaired. The RED Spy respawns after Pyro enacts his violent fantasies for the BLU one, but with a plushie he can just stab the still threaded needle into wherever he wanted with a trade off of an unresponsive, basically dead victim. Then again there's no other option with the ceasefire, the rain and his Spy being out with that obnoxious Jeremy kid that's on his team, so Pyro will gratefully take what he can get.
Still doesn't make it awkward when he's trying to choke out a plushie with his hands applying so much force his hands are shaking and the only man Pyro somewhat tolerates, Medic, swings open the door with something in.. Spanish? One of those languages from the countries right next to Russia, saying something about food and gesturing for the soot scented sack of a person to follow him. To Pyro's own eternal gratitude Medic lacks interest in his hobbies outside of escorting the former dentist to Heavy as a makeshift bodyguard during fights or being violent/fire prone to everything around the masked mad man. Maybe he's written Pyro off as a childish lunatic as the rest of the team have but, regardless, Pyro can't help but feel a part of his soul permanently di. He's still a grown man choking out a doll that he himself made because he can't get his hands on the real thing, what a loser, plus in the midst of his mind wandering off from his body again, Medic's left. Said something about food, right? He's probably in the weird half kitchen half dining half rec room space downstairs. Pyro still doesn't understand why they didn't just build full rooms instead of half ones if they were going to build respective 'home' bases for each of the teams a little ways down the path from the Harvest battle field.
"Shit,"
Muttering other words to himself as he speed walks to catch up with the Yur.. Yuro? Yuropeeian? How does- Head face planting into the back of the doctor's stained shirt, Pyro steps back to awkwardly tug on the mans sleeve as if the mumbler hadn't already gotten the attention of the medic who's.. waiting in line? Plates clank against cutlery, it seems the mercs are being dished up one by one by the uh.. the one with the wrench, shorter than even Pyro? Weird slow talk, wears goggles? That one, it seems they're sitting down after they get food and waiting. Seems ok. Maybe Pyro will come early more often, maybe that's why Medic came to get him? Oh.
"Ja, Herr Pyro?"
Thank whatever created him that his gas mask has one-way lenses so he didn't look like a wuss when his gaze instantly skittered to the floor as soon as the man turned his head around, the fact he forgot his question on though how one spells European due to the smell of food wafting his mind away. So naturally, after freezing up like a deer in headlights, he spits out a quickly muttered "Uh, nevermind bud." . Admittedly this is probably more childish than he likes to view himself but also isn't out of his own usual realm of behavior, maybe the team - and the medic who is noticably not turning back around - do have a point in regards to treating him like a child. Him jolting at the sound of thicker raindrops thumping against the window probably doesn't help his case and Medic's small smirk makes Pyro want to die.
BLU Dinng Table
A few of the other mercs glance at their masked peer but otherwise Pyro's left unbothered to eat a tin of peaches at the far end of the table, if you can call it that, its more of a bench. Other mercs engross themselves in conversation or relax while they eat, leaving himself a distance that makes him comfortable enough to unscrew the cover of his gas mask's respirator with one hand while the other pulls the cover of the tin open. Stabbing the sliced slippery fruit contents, he begins eating, somewhat calming down as he chews. His thoughts aren't going off on tangents and the urge to crush Spy's bones like hollow twigs somewhat soothe into more slow, methodical thoughts. Of killing Spy still, because he's fucking adorable , just not to the point acting out those thoughts in broad daylight or on dolls.
With a small shy, Pyro realizes he's kind of a loser. There's no urge to deny that, hate himself or get better, that's kind of just who he is. The fork stabs three peach slices, Py swurls the now empty can as he chews since it's something to focus on other than the rain's thump thump thump or his teammates chatter. Then again there's no actual reason to stay besides to maybe thank Medic? Sure most wait until others finish eating but blubbers here doesn't really care about that. Maybe he'll just bring in the crude medic doll to the small workspace he shares with the mechanic, Pyro has been meaning to remake his earlier works due to their laughable quality anyways. This is a good method of disposal really, worst case scenario he's thought of as a manchild which isn't entirely untrue, best case scenario would be too good to be true so there's no point in wondering about it.
Unlike the Spy, the BLU spy on his team curiously enough. From his knowledge of the other mercenaries in the same class of himself usually gravitate towards the enemy Spy (if they do at all) for romantic, platonic or 'seckshuel' (however thats spelled and whatever that means) reasons, but as a whole platonic's the far more common one. Then again this information is gathered from asking his Medic about pyros in relation to spys while the man operates on one of the drunk teammates, so there's no telling if the information is as reliable as Medic himself during battle. It's probably as common as the 'ovur welmeeng amount of mental ilneses' Medic mention's the class (possibly also the teams but Pyro was only half paying attention at this point) being in possession of, though since the firebug isn't a man of fancy class he doesn't know what that means no does he have any fucks to give for it. Still, if the class as a whole has those thingamajis then surely Pyro's own violent, obsessive hatred towards the spy on his own team isn't all too uncommon or bad, right? Not like that he'd care he was an outlier as long as Pyro could get his Spy off guard and isolated to do what he wanted with the smoke scented twig of a man.
Floor boards creak as he giggles about that last one, the sound of his own heavy footsteps giving him the idea of stomping the other masked mercs kneecaps 'til they no longer crunch, Spy's reaction to that would undoubtedly be worth the effort of cornering him alone. Ah, but for now he'll just drop off the disgusting little malformed plushie crudely made in the team's doctors image at the workshop/medbay.