M. Rittenmeier, MD

Marcus let out a shaky breath, eyes blinking shut as Ragomir worked warm patterns down the length of his neck. "I believe...it may be, yes..." Flexing his hips into his lover's body elicited a warm, comfortable stretch, and Marcus found himself with double-handfuls of the Heavy's clothing and a very sudden need to have them gone.

Of course, getting physical on a couch that was as wide as one of them alone was going to take some navigation...but midnight seemed like a perfectly reasonable goal.

Opting Out - RED

Ragomir chuckled and leaned in even closer for a peck on Marcus’s cheek. “Es not big loss—would not imagine either to be very good company if were staying behind.”

"And now that they have gone—" it wasn’t very often that the common room was safely clear, and with a subsequently mischievous smile Ragomir leaned over to sweep the Medic’s legs from underneath him for easier portability in moving the both of them onto the couch, pulling Marcus on top of him, "—will just have to find some way to occupy time, hej?"

Marcus yelped, clinging at Ragomir as he was unceremoniously removed from the ground. He hadn't yelped in years. He hadn't grabbed anyone around around the neck for dear life at any point in his recollection, for that matter, but before he could argue as such they were on the couch -- Marcus flushed and startled, and planted squarely in Rago's lap.

"If we are going to preoccupy ourselves with acrobatics, I am going to need more of a warm-up!" Marcus pressed his hands to Ragomir's jaw, leaning in for a firm, enthusiastic kiss. He planned to make the most of the peace and quiet that night. Pulling back, he ran his fingers through the dense brush of the other man's hair, leaning their foreheads together with a smile. "The holidays have been rather quiet...perhaps I ought to try and coax some volume out of you."

Opting Out

Ragomir watched as the stragglers left for the party, a small, conspiratorial smile on his face—as much as he was desperately curious to see if a certain one of the…new rivals would be attending, he was far more interested in the fact that a particular one of his teammates wouldn’t be.

"So," Ragomir grinned from behind Marcus, lazily sliding his hands up the Medic’s back to squeeze his shoulders and lean in close, "who from team do we have staying behind tonight?"

Marcus leaned back into Ragomir's chest, arms still folded, expression relaxing into something that hid a smile. "I would have thought for sure young Mr. Wallace would stay. Or JT, perhaps."

He let one hand drop to his pocket, the other coming up to lay across Ragomir's at his shoulder. "Obviously, he must have decided cooking for himself tonight was not worth the trouble, or he will be assisting his small friend with burning something for the festivities. But it would seem..." Marcus turned a little, angling a glance up at the Heavy, "...that we will have the base to ourselves this evening."

Opting Out - RED

Marcus lingered in the common room near the Infirmary entrance, wincing at the clatter of glass bottles as their own team's hard-earned company liquor was toted away for communal celebration.

"Et tu, Wallace?" The Medic folded his arms with a dry frown as the Scout passed through, looping a heavy scarf, toothpick between his lips.

Kirk shrugged. "I follow the beer, Doc." "You're all traitors."

"If the Blighters and the Alleymen could have a truce at Christmastime, I think we can manage it."

"I have no idea what you just said. Please leave immediately."

Kirk switched his toothpick from one side to the other, giving the Medic a sullen once-over before skulking off ahead of the departing band.

What Lies Beneath

theitaliansoldier-blog

Marcus’ words barely penetrated Leo’s brain. Broken ribs, broken knee, broken whatever. It all sounded ugly and gross. But it was the firm yet gentle hand on his shoulder that really got through to him. Jonah had to be moved. Because he was alive. He was going to be all right.

Leo nodded and repositioned himself to lift Jonah across his arms, keeping his originally uninjured side to his body. “Just as long as he’s okay, nothing else matters, man.”

Following Marcus out to the jeep with Jonah in his arms, the Soldier climbed in back to keep the bumpy ride from jolting his lover’s mending body too much. Marcus smartly drove them straight to the entrance leading directly into the infirmary, and Leo almost lost his grip on Jonah as he tried to get out of the jeep, but he managed to secure him at the expense of a little whimper of pain from the Sniper. “Shit, shit, sorry…”

The exam table in the infirmary was fortunately clear and clean, allowing him to slowly lay Jonah down onto it and for Marcus to immediately wash up and go to work.

"Can I stay here, or…? Should I tell JT…?"

Marcus looked up sharply at the mention of the Spy. "Later," he replied swiftly, giving the Soldier a significant look. "He cannot be helpful here, so why complicate matters?"

He returned to the table with several surgical drapes and a pair of shears, sliding the folded sheets beneath the Sniper's head. Dragging the oxygen cylinder from its stowage beneath the table, Marcus fixed the line to a mask and squinted at the valve. "Here. Over his nose and mouth...hold it there and try to keep him relaxed. His lung is still collapsed, but this will repair itself in time." He immediately took the shears to Jonah's newly-restored shirt, cutting it away to reveal the man's visibly-swollen shoulder.

The good news was that the collarbone lay smooth and flat. The bad news was there was no seam of metal beneath the skin that Marcus could feel with his fingertips. Hopefully Respawn had seen fit to thicken the old break as well, or it was only a matter of time until an ugly accident and another ruined afternoon following battle.

During the course of his inventory, Marcus glanced up at Leo, watching the careful way the man held his lover's head, carefully stroking his pale cheekbone with one thumb. He admired the man's strength...the few times Marcus had been forced to treat Ragomir he had been hard pressed to keep a clear head.

"I will speak with JT myself when we finish here. For now, he is good hands. Now tell me everything that happened."

What Lies Beneath

theitaliansoldier-blog

Leo had run at top speed all the way from the bunker back to RED spawn, and he saw the flash when what looked like JT and and Jonah appeared on the teleporter pad. Had they made it? Were they in time? Fuck, if Jonah had died before they got there…

But his thoughts were all for nothing as he arrived to the sight of Marcus taking a gun to Jonah’s head and blowing his brains out. Wind knocked out of him, the Soldier fell to his knees, sliding a bit on them while his hands grabbed at Jonah’s body. “Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck, Marcus!”

But they were inside the respawn zone, and if the Medic shot Jonah, then that meant Jonah had to have been alive before that or else Marcus wouldn’t have wasted the bullet. Jonah would respawn. That was all that mattered.

"You are disgusting," Philippe spat at the RED Medic, but Leo only heard him take off his disguise and leave then rather than watched him go. He owed the BLU Spy big time for helping like this.

Marcus, however, didn’t move. “There isn’t much time left. Go wait for him to respawn.”

"What? Why…?"

"I need to figure out what happened to him before that, and I cannot do so with you hovering over him. So go. Make sure it is your face he sees when he respawns."

Numbly nodding his head, Leo leaned over Jonah’s dead body to kiss his forehead and then headed into the main spawn. He paced back and forth along one side, not wanting to possibly be in the way of Jonah reappeared but unable to stand still. Fuck, what was taking so long? that respawn scan had to have happened. Where was Jonah?

And like that, his beloved Sniper flashed into existence, crumpling almost instantly, and Leo raced to catch him, cradling him carefully to his chest. “I got you, baby… I got you…”

Marcus stood up with a grim expression as the body he was examining vanished under his hands. Disappointing. He was pleasantly surprised, however, upon entering the Respawn building, to see the Sniper in his entirety, clinging to the Soldier for support but very much alive.

"Your Spy friend continues to find me monstrous," Marcus began with a wry chuckle, moving around to the Soldier's front and reaching in to press two fingers to the Sniper's neck. "I suppose he expected to beat the clock himself." He wasn't prepared to outright express gratitude for the BLU team's assistance, and Philippe probably would have made a clean kill. Still, mere moments had been at stake.

The Sniper was still showing signs of shock, potential alectasis, hypothermia. Terminal respawn exacerbated by trauma and teleportation being the obvious cause, but Marcus also had a sinking feeling Respawn had devoured the custom-fitted bone hardware like shrapnel. If so, Rogers was going to be scheduled for immediate and unceremonious surgery followed by a strongly-worded lecture on the wastefulness of getting into accidents with BLU team members.

"Many ribs on his right side were broken. His knee. His shoulder." Marcus continued quietly. "There was bleeding into the lung. He would have had minutes. But all is well now." He paused to lay a hand on Leo's shoulder, even as Jonah let out a faint, miserable croak, trying to press further into his lover's chest. "We must bring him in -- take care for his shoulder and collarbone...they may be weak still."

What Lies Beneath

[...]

The teleporter glowed and flickered to life a couple of feet behind him, illuminating the entire area in hellish red. When he could see the full extent of the damage surrounding them, Philippe was surprised none of them had died on impact. Jagged rocks and metal debris were everywhere, and his stomach lurched at the carnage they could have found instead.

Checking his watch again, he saw they had less than three minutes before the respawn scan would occur, so he had to move fast. Jonah screamed in agony as ‘JT’ hauled him over to the teleporter pad and hoisted him up just enough for them to both be fully on it. A brilliant blaze of red suddenly engulfed them…

…And then the bright light of day nearly blinded them as they appeared outside the RED spawn.

blutundgerechtigkeit-deactivate

The radio hail had been largely a blast of static and panic, but an agitated Soldier calling base while on the run was not likely to be capable of much better. Something about an accident, one Rogers brother down, and teleporting back to Respawn before the sweep. If he'd told them once he'd told them a thousand times this bunker was a ridiculous idea and they were as likely to die as find anything of use. Still and all, while Marcus may not have been happy about it, he wasn't one to let a catastrophe occur for the sake of principal. He'd pulled the jeep up in front of RED respawn moments before the teleporter beamed to life.

For several moments, Marcus regarded the materializing silhouette of their own familiar RED Spy supporting his brother's incapacitated bulk. Of course, this was patently impossible, as he'd seen JT only minutes before safely ensconced in the communications room with his headset, engrossed in the last battle's overdue briefings.

"Clever," Marcus called out by way of greeting, as the BLU Spy in disguise staggered from the teleporter platform, half-dropping half-lowering the Sniper to the ground. The man was obviously in the latter stages of shock, his right leg bending unnaturally in the process of being laid out. "Leo was unable to ride along, I see. Well, what happened, then..."

Rubbing his hands together briefly at the brisk outdoor chill, Marcus dropped to one knee and frowned. "What on earth...was he thrown off a cliff? You must be jok---" The Medic seized double-fistfuls of Jonah's shirt, tearing it open in two powerful tugs, lip curling in disgust. "Do you have ANY idea how often I have repaired this?" He prodded the broken collarbone, eliciting a wet, bubbling gasp and token struggle from the not-quite-dead Sniper.

"Useless." Sitting back on his heels, Marcus glanced at his watch, then reached into his jacket to pull out the pistol he never went to meet BLUs without. "My work is never done. Move back, please." Without further warning, he hauled the Sniper's shoulders off the ground by a fistful of clothing, pressed the muzzle of his gun beneath the Sniper's chin and fired.

Pulse check! Reblog if you are an active TF2 rp blog.

musings-old-main

But Ja, I alwayz knew Marcus vaz zhe evil Medic in 5Gorge. It vaz eizhah him or me und I’m perfectly normal.

UND IF ANYVONE DOEZN’T ZHINK I’M NORMAL I ZVEAR TO GOTT I VILL GUT YOU ALIVE!

...I can make my peace with that.

You keep up the good work with normal.

#everything is relative

hyenadip

SECOND OPINION LINES

doktorgirlfriend

OH MY GOD

It sounds like Marcus and Boid.

#Redrum indeed #the implication that I am somehow not within my faculties #I never

First of all, how dare you...

“Oh, ha! Es probably true—takes so much after mother, who was known en family for heving scared off angry bear with single punch.” He chuckled, pausing to chew another piece of lamb. “Hev ever told you story? Must tell sometime.”

He moved his foot to return the gesture, smiling, and after another furtive glance towards the common room slowly slid his hand across the table, fingers fluttering lightly in a request for his. “You are wonderful cook—would love to see in action next time, if are needing extra set of hands.”

His smile broadened into a grin, however, with a sly wink and a lowered voice. “Though, em supposing will see in other action soon enough. Es better action, anyway.”

"Wh--" Marcus blinked, then raised a coy eyebrow. "Ragomir, your skills of innuendo are improving by the day." He slid his hand into the other man's with a low laugh. "It is better. I promise. And if not..." He leaned in to leave a light kiss on the Heavy's lips. "I will submit to regular performance reviews. The only way to maintain quality."

Flirting in the mess hall. This was progress. Marcus was never really inclined to public exhibitions of physical affection, but he liked the idea of not necessarily relegating every brief handclasp or long look to an office or dark corner. The taciturn new Scout was the only unfamiliar face here, beside the robot...maybe Ragomir was finally feeling comfortable with things, whatever they were.

"Enough talk. Eat. I like to imagine you will need your energy."

#cove RP #Ragomir

Ragomir retrieved his plate and joined Marcus at the dining room table, noting the occupants of the common room idly—it had scarcely occurred to him that someone might have seen them in the kitchen, though it seemed that those still in the near vicinity wouldn’t give the two men sitting at the table together a second thought. It was a good enough safety for him at the moment.

He chuckled, looking down for a moment to further cut a piece of lamb. “Es certainly kind gesture, but… cannot think of much that am wanting that would be possible to obtain. Mostly wishing for way to contact Sophea, but considering, ehh, company disagreements… will just hev to trust she can handle herself et different base.”

He glanced towards the common room, however, and leaned closer, a sly smile forming as he spoke in a hushed tone. “Though, things perhaps involving you later tonight… em sure can think of something more accessible.”

Marcus leaned his folded arms on the tabletop, incining his head toward Ragomir with a conspiratorial smile. "I am sure such things are within my power this evening. I have been somewhat concerned about the thinness of the walls, given these new living arrangements." His foot nudged the Heavy's ankle under the table. "We shall have to take our time...and go slowly. Even if it takes all night."

He sat back then, reaching out to remove a nicely-browned chunk of potato from the edge of Ragomir's plate and tasting half. "Hm. Respectable. Who said I wasn't a cook." He paused, chewing the other half. "And I digress, but I am confident your sister could handle herself in a bear pit, needless to say any base the company has to offer."

#cove rp #Ragomir

Ragomir smiled and set his plate on the counter, draping his arm around Marcus’s shoulders and letting it drift to his waist to pull him closer. “Mm. Es true. Was many, many years ago—should not be invading thought still, hej?”

He thought for a moment, however, watching Marcus. “Though, em wondering if most people here hev similar thing to wonder. Es at least comforting thought to not be alone in topic.” He glanced at the pan in the sink, then, and to the food still remaining. “Have eaten yet, Marcus?”

Marcus shrugged lightly. "Nothing like cooking to kill the appetite. I figured I would wait until later, and join Mausi into gnawing a bone or two. You should go sit..." He gestured to the empty dining room, the fireplace a pleasant buffer from the common room where most eyes were fixed on the television. "No use staying on your feet...I could stand to get off of mine for a few moments anyhow."

The dining room was slightly cooler, too, than the kitchen, and more dimly lit. Marcus pulled out one chair, then dragged another closer by. "Sit. And tell me what you want for your birthday. You may not get it until next month, though...provided it does not end up lost at sea."

#Cove rp #Ragomir

“Oh! No, es not problem—en honesty only remembered today, sometime this morning; es not common anymore for me to remember until day has already passed, es seeming.” His smile broadened, then, and he turned his attention back to his plate for a moment. “Well, em very proud. Es just…”

He sighed, though he felt a twinge of comfort—it was strange to him how few things he kept bottled up and to himself nowadays, with Marcus around. He certainly wasn’t complaining; something about the Medic always made him feel safe to speak freely, which was a feeling he soon enough found himself readily accepting. “When father died, he was mid-thirties, hej? Maybe 35. Mother, ehh, 26, 27, close to. Es just… Every year es reminder that I am now at age they hev never gotten to experience.”

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “Em knowing es not topic to be dwelling on, but es difficult sometime, hej? Wondering what they would hev been like at ages.”

Marcus nodded as Ragomir spoke, rolling his sleeves up and attacking the pan with a scouring pad. "Age and experience are extremely relative things, Rago. And nothing we should worry about much. After all, people like you and I distort time and cause and effect for a living."

The thought verged equally on fascinating and morbid, and Marcus directed his attention back to Ragomir's parents. So young when they died, no doubt their son barely knew them. "It is sometimes fun to imagine what if..."

Pausing a moment, he put down the scrubber and reached for a towel to dry his hands. "...but you cannot worry much about what has been missed. Or lost." Marcus reached out to slip an arm around Ragomir's back. "Only what is ahead. Or what is here now, hm?"

#Cove rp #Ragomir

Ragomir chuckled faintly, leaning against the counter and pausing to eat a slice of potato before speaking. “Es sounding so.”

He paused, taking a moment to poke more vegetables onto his fork. “Es easy to tell, hej? Well—em supposing es just one of days to struggle with forgetting thoughts. Es not to worry.”

He chewed thoughtfully, however, and eventually smiled faintly. “Ehh, em supposing on more positive side… em forty today.”

Marcus cleared his throat, the pan he was moving scraping against the aluminum rim of the sink as he nearly dropped it. "Today?" Grimacing, he gripped at the handle, managing to slide it into the soapy water with less of a splash than there might have been. "My god, the year vanishes quickly..."

He looked over at the Heavy, expression apologetic. "I should have known...I have been reviewing the timelines for the physical exams. It seems as though every week or so I reminded myself, but things do not stick the way they used to!" He tossed a pair of spatulas in after the pan to soak. "Though it may not have killed you to mention this yesterday..."

The Medic smirked a little, then tilted his head. "You are not proud of having survived this long?"

#Cove RP #Ragomir

Ragomir had spent most of the day in various chores—writing had proven ineffective, and as such his time had been used in checking his minigun, and anything he could find around the base and outside that needed his help; it was an unusual year that he remembered his own birthday, after all, and as such he felt little desire to be left alone with his thoughts.

Evening had come around soon enough, however, and as he ducked into the kitchen he realized that he had barely eaten in his distraction. Fortunately, however, there still seemed to be ample food left despite a number of the base residents seeming to have already been by, and, even more fortunately, his favorite one was still present. He smiled, not hesitating to take a plate and begin loading it with the lamb and vegetables. “Marcus—hev been well today?”