Hot Shot Variety

TF2 Scout x F!Reader (SFW) - College Fear

"Did not!"
"Did too."
"Did not!"
"Did too."
"I did nothin' (Y/n) and y'a know it." The red shirt exclaimed, his arms crossed high and mighty over his chest. You let out a sigh and continue on with your English research paper. Your pencil moved on its own, not to form words, but instead squiggles and dark, hasty lines. You feel him lean over your shoulder causing you to become self-conscious of the words that somehow managed to form paragraphs on the sheet of college-ruled notebook paper laying in front of you.
"This is the thanks I get from y'a for trying t'a help." This statement causes you to stop your current wavey line and turn a complete 180, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes and a look stating, "No fucks are given." You are tired, drained, and need to finish this damn thing.
"Now look -Scout- you barging into my room at 1 in the morning? Not cool at all, even with a cup of coffee that had salt mixed in instead of sugar. You are well aware my essay is due in a week and I-"
"Can't afford any distractions. God (Y/n), we get it!" He shouts, glaring down at your small frame. You understand that he loves playing pranks, but he also understands that this is crucial for you to get into that 4-year. Ever since Scout found out about how this was really just a "side job" for free scholarship money, being a medic for the RED team, he's been trying to make you mess up, miss deadlines, anything under the sun really. At first, you couldn't tell if it was a coincidence or intentional, but as the days went on, you seem to be leaning towards the second theory. Sometimes his plans worked and sometimes they didn't. You don't even know how many times you missed out on an opportunity because of this one kid; or should you say man? Maybe he just wants to see you fail, who knows?
"Seriously (Y/n)! I didn't know that the salt would've messed the whole thing up!" Flailing his arms like a child adds to your confusion. Maybe a child in a man's body? Or a-
"Are y'a even listenin' t'a me?"
You blink a couple of times and focus in again, earning a groan and a head-tilt back. "Why do you always do that? Are y'a seriously that tired?" He almost looks concerned. Almost.
"Uh, yea. Sorry about that. I've been exhausted lately, I only have 6 more pages an-"
"I just don't get it. Why do y'a push yourself so much, huh? It's seriously doin' a number on your image." He complains, still standing in front of you with a hand now placed on his chin with the other crossed and propping it up. This statement, how off his whole demeanor was, and how tired you really were made the whole situation worse. You try and stay calm, breathing in through your nose, but nothing could really mask it. You were pissed.
"Scout, that was such a rude thing to say, I'm trying my hardest-"
"Then don't. It's seriously damagin' your health- y'a know. I'm worried 'bout y'a toots." He places his hands at his sides in his pockets and continues to skip out of the room with a happy vibe, not even bothering to hear your reasoning or excuses. That's all they were; excuses. Nothing more, nothing less. You were overworking yourself, you weren't laughing as much, and it took a fucking grown man-child to bring it to your attention worth burdening. This was a new low for you. This was a sign, but whatever the meaning was, it had to wait. You had a paper to finish.
"Hey, so I know it's late and y'a shouldn't be up right now, but I just wanted to-a 'pologize 'bout- oh." Mug in hand, in the doorway Scout stands, stopped in a midstep. There you were, face planted on your desk with the lamp lighting the room up with a pastel yellow. Drool leaked from your parted, chapped lips and onto the desk, strands of your hair had fallen to the sides of your face, wearing yesterday's training outfit covered in sweat, and still looking as beautiful as ever. He may have left for only 10 minutes to make you coffee, but you still managed to pass out on a flat wood surface with no signs of discomfort. Scout sighs and carefully moves across the room, clothes scattered about. You were such a neat person before all of this. He never understood the point of school: buying books, anti-social behavior, homework, stress, etc., but seeing how much it meant to you, he made his own private effort in trying to understand it even if they were futile-- hopefully to impress you in the long run. His strides are short-lived as he trips slightly over a textbook, the not-salted coffee spilling out the container's sides. Being a Scout has its perks, let's just leave it at that. Catching himself mid-way, he looks down at the mug in his hands. There was still more than half left; good. Catching his breath and taking a much more cautious step towards your seat, he places the mug down with ease. Words that weren't there before caught his eye on the multiple pages before him, some letters smeared while others were written twice. Scout knew you were tired, but this! This was a whole new level of dead. You needed rest, but holding good quality; a small, orange swivel chair with a hard glass surface just wasn't going to suffice. He continued to study your features and decided on his next mission. Pick up and get in bed without awakening the beast. Reaching around to the other side, he leans down and grabs your torso with soft hands- a result from him taking his gloves off- and props you against his chest. Halfway there. He leans down and swipes your feet, making a sprint across the room. His feet were burning. Pens, pencils, erasers, buttons from clothes, corners of books, and every other stationary supply was in his way, haunting his thoughts from the sharp pokes and aches. It reminded him of legos, the pain relevent in comparison. Almost. Placing the thick, white comforter up to your chin, he looks at his accomplishment with a smile. Drool and all you lay, peaceful and unmoving. Really the only sound made throughout the quest was the internal screaming of Scout; huffing and trying to hold back a wail. His smile grew wider as he listened to the sound of your breathing, echoing throughout the enclosed room. Turning around and watching his steps, he walks towards the door, closing almost before hearing a distant, mumbled thanks. Barely audiable, a reply enters through the small cracks of the door, earning a soft smile from you.
"Ya' welcome, toots."