Southern Remedies [PLATONIC](Engineer x Reader)
ok this is kinda a repost bc i was tryna make this a primary acc, so apologies
Engineer and Reader bonding.
Idk literally just fatherlike engie bc i crave it… + we don't get enough father content of the mercs i think
also this is my first time posting a fic... my apologies if it's not super great, i just wanna practice...
A long hard day of battle. It was finally over, and Engie could finally rest and put his machines away. The clanking of the metal boxes hitting the shelf was rather loud, but never unsatisfying to him. Because then he knew it was done, and he could finally put his feet up for the day.
Though, the knocking on the door that led to his garage told him otherwise. Lifting his goggles to his forehead with a soft sigh, he left his current spot to go see whoever decided to interrupt his moment of tranquility. He was begging, in his mind, that it wasn’t Scout or Soldier, or at the very least a call for dinner. But no… they just had to disturb him, what could possibly be so impo-
Oh.
There you stood, slightly cupping your cheek with a sheepish, and embarrassed face. Blood leaked down your cheek as you tried to stop the bleeding with your hand. The red lined indents from Engineer’s goggles contorted into an expression of concern, worry, and confusion all at once.
Why were you bleeding? Why didn’t you get Medic? Were you ok? Though he said nothing, his hand rushed to your own to reveal the wound. It wasn’t terrible, but you only saw his eyebrows furrow deeper, deeper than you thought possible.
“Sorry, I just wanted to know if you had a first aid kit. Medic’s in a mood right now and I don’t really want to see him right now…” You tried to frantically explain, feeling more ridiculous with every second.
He only let out a sigh in response, with a soft “come on in”. He had grabbed a stool from his workbench and sat it in front of his own, pulling a first aid kit out from one of the drawers.
“Dear, I really think you should be more careful…” he gently scolded, patting your shoulder and walking you over to the stool. “That looks like a nasty cut, what’d ya even do?”
“Oh uh… last minute enemy spy thing, I guess.”
“Mm, those bastards will get ya. Just be glad it was a graze, ‘n didn’t go through your face.”
The visual image was unpleasant, to say the least, but he had a point. Had it been any worse, it probably would have cut right through your cheek.
Delicately, he dabbed away the blood with a dampened cloth. Absent-mindedly, he cleaned and patched you up almost without a word. There wasn’t much to say anyways. Yet, the kind gesture of him helping you made you feel particularly warm and fuzzy inside.
“Alright now, you’re all done. Just don’t scratch at the bandages, get it wet, y’know what to do already,” he said. He hauled you up after getting back on his feet, and led you both out of the garage after giving you a firm pat on the back. “You did great out there today, kid. I’m real proud.”
“Ah, thanks…” You mumbled, slightly embarrassed but not upset. You thanked him and left, after apologizing for “being a hassle”. He only chuckled and ruffled your hair.
Though the interaction felt short, it seemed so genuine.
So homey.
