Heyo! It's Sorry and I really had no idea if I should publish this fanfiction on this account because I mainly do different types of fanfictions. I wasn't sure of writing this either. I really came late to the TF2 fandom, but the characters are very interesting and I definitely want to experiment with their personalities! Anyway, the cover was drawn by me and I'll see how often I can update! I really hope I finish this. I honestly have no idea how many chapters this will be, probably between 15-40? This story is mainly based on the comic version of the RED Spy being the RED Scout's dad instead of the BLU Scout's dad. Also, there will be no shipping/romantic relationships in this (besides from RED Spy & RED Scout's Ma), so if you are looking for that, this story isn't for you. There will be some Gray Mann shenanigans in it too, hope you like it!

Chapter 1: Scouting out a Scout

A chestnut haired man wearing a sable baseball cap was kicked back upon his seat, dog tags rattling in his chest. Hot wind blew into his face as dust clung to his skin. Yawning, he turned his head to glance at his driver. She was a rather attractive woman with fair skin, thick crescent moon glasses, jade green eyes, and a lavender dress. He found her very pretty and he sat there, twiddling his thumbs to decide what to do. "We are almost at Teufort, so hold on," she said. This female's name was Ms. Pauling. The van rattled on upon the sooty road as they finally arrived at the place where the adult was gaining his second job, notably with the company, RED, Reliable Excavation Demolition.

Now; he, Jeremy, was never the one to sign up for a "real job." Before he got his new one, he worked at Crazy Tony's Overpriced Used Cars and Underappreciated Pizzeria. Not as a waiter or a cars salesmen, nah he was too cool for that. He was a mascot. Every day he went to work, he'll pull on a pizza costume and then stand outside, twirling a sign around. He had to quit because that place went out of business real quick. Now he was offered a job when Ms. Pauling approached him after he attacked three men with a bat and then sped off. Of course, he had to take it cause his Ma had done so much. His seven brothers had completely moved out of the house, settled down, and started their own family. At least he won't always have to stay at home.

Ms. Pauling opened her door as Jeremy pushed his. Landing on the ground in a comfortable pair of sneakers, average t-shirt, and jeans he looked up. Eight other people were standing next to an archway heading into a building. They were all wearing scarlet red clothes and seemed a whole lot older than him. "Alright guys, meet your new Scout!" she introduced, taking a clipboard and then crossing something out with a marker. "Make sure you're easy on him," she said as she moved to the back of the van and took out two regular sized suitcases.

The "Scout" lethargically observed his fellow colleagues. The first one was a person dressed in a full body suit and ebony straps. They wore a gas mask obscuring their face and had fire resistant gloves. They had a patch showing a flame on their shoulder. The next one was a man wearing circular goggles. He had a belt with some tools and a wrench followed with golden knee pads. A patch with a wrench was etched into the shoulder. After that was a lean man wearing a sharp suit and a balaclava. He had huge pockets on his coat. The fourth one was a huge male that towered over everyone with fingerless gloves and large beefy arms and the next one was a skinny man with an akubra and aviator glasses. He had a symbol similar to an aiming mark. After that was a strong male who's eyes were blocked by a bowl shaped helmet wearing a symbol with a rocket. The seventh person was a brown skinned man with an eyepatch and a bomb shaped patch. Lastly in the line was a male with raven colored hair, a lab coat, and glasses with a medical cross symbol.

"Yo, what's up," Scout greeted, waving his bandaged hand and grinning broadly. "Here's your stuff. Your room's the one with your rank on it," Ms. Pauling informed, setting down the suitcases, throwing him a key, and then heading back to the van. "Wait, wait, Ms. Pauling, uh… you're not busy are you?" the adult began. "I'm sorry, Scout, not right now. I have something to do," she cut him off as she shut the door and then waved goodbye. Zooming off into the distance, the male gaped before turning back to his coworkers.

"Hiya there, I'm the Engineer. I'm one of the mercenaries here in RED," Engineer introduced, extending the hand without the glove. "I'll call ya 'hard-hat' instead," Scout answered as he took the hand and focused on the guy's construction hat. "Mmmph murr mrphurrhur phhr lrr," the gas mask man mumbled, shaking with excitement. "Now, this here is the Pyro and they say that they are pleased to meet you," Engineer smiled, motioning. "Everyone, I want ya to introduce yourself." The man in the balaclava immediately groaned, as if hating every second of this. "Ahem, starting from you, Spy," the man with the construction hat tutted.

"Bonjour, I'm the Spy and that is all you need to know," Spy briefly stated, looking as if angered, irritated, and a bit surprised at Scout. Scout already decided he didn't like this person. "Da, hello leetle man. I am heavy weapons guy, or the Heavy," the huge one grinned and hugged the smaller adult in a skull crushing embrace. Quickly releasing, the runner heaved a bit before angrily mustering," I'm not little!" The other man brushed off statement. "G'day! I'm the Sniper or ya could call me 'Snipes!'" the other one said in an Australian voice. "Hello! I am the Soldier and god bless America!" the man with the helmet introduced loudly with a sharp salute. "Aye, I'm the Demo," the eye patch guy slurred a bit, wobbling slightly. Beer stains splattered his velvet shirt. "He had a bit too much to drink before he came," Engineer sighed, straightening Demo. "And I'm zhe Medic! Pleased to meet your acquaintance," the german greeted, doing a quick bow.

"Yeah! I'm gonna go to my room to put my stuff down first!" Scout exited, taking his bags and dodging past them into the hallway. The building was made of red wood as he took a left down a hallway. "Scout, the rooms are the other way," Engineer corrected, raising his gloved hand up. Huffing a bit, he gyrated the right way and shouted," I knew dat!" The hard hat chuckled a bit as he looked at his fellow mercenaries. "Alright, boys. We have a new Scout and it should be our job to make him feel at home," the texan ordered. "I'll cook him a welcoming dinner." There were cheers amongst the others.

Scout trotted down the various hallways into places with separate rooms. Each one was a darkish burgundy color with a symbol and a name tag. He finally came to the one at the end of the hallway that read "Scout" on a silver tag with a red symbol of a winged shoe. He pushed it open to find a standard single bed with average carmine sheets, desk, light switch, closet, set of drawers, and nightstand. A crimson carpet was laid down followed with a door to a bathroom and everything seemed recently cleaned. He threw his suitcases into a corner and flopped onto the bed. It wasn't too soft or too hard, just how he liked it. Stretching, he stared at the ceiling for a while, just doing nothing.

About thirty minutes passed as the door to his room was open. As Scout went to look at the visitor, he found no one. The hallway was completely empty as he glanced out. Groaning, he assumed that the door was just a bit broken. So much for "perfect room." Shutting it again, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Shrieking, the bostonian turned around abruptly in a freaked out surprise. "I see you haven't packed," Spy observed as he stood there, a waft of smoke exiting from his cigar. "Jeez, don't do dat!" Scout hissed, rubbing his bandaged hand over his face in relief. "Of course, who would suspect you would by how you look," the frenchman remarked, eyes fleeting across the other's body. "Dumpy t-shirt and messy pants. Filthy hat." "Yeah, yeah, and what 'bout you? Cheap suit. Bet it was only worth $5-," the runner shot back before being interrupted by the sneaky man. "I'll have you know that this is a $10,000 custom-tailored louis crabbemarche jacket! The cloth is from silkworms raised on a suit microfarm in Tuscany, from a secret pattern passed down by monk tailors since the seventh century!" he spat quickly, as if he had memorized the description. "Totally, totally," the other replied snarkily. "Is dat just a lie, like your fanciness?" "Listen up, boy. You should know when to talk, or that may or may not be the last thing you ever do," the frenchman said darkly, towering over the smaller male. Before he could say, "Is dat a threat?" the other one faded and disappeared.

"Come out ya stupid frenchie!" Scout shouted, groping his fingers around the room blindly. His hands didn't reach any living thing. Cursing loudly and angrily to himself, he shoved open his suitcases. Digging through it for a specific thing to comfort him, he wasn't able to find anything. "Where is it?" he murmured in irritation. An already flipped up shirt was thrown to the side as he kept rummaging. It was gone. He swore he had packed it; swore that he packed a framed image of his mother and all her eight sons, all smiling at the camera. Sighing, he raised his closed fist to beat at his forehead, hexing his forgetfulness. "Ya okay, son?" a voice came out behind him. He turned around in vexation as he reared back and punched the speaker. His fist stopped a hair length from the Engineer's face.

Dropping his fist, Scout bared his teeth as he forced himself to look into the Engineer's goggles. "What happened?" the texan asked, raising an eyebrow. "None of your business," he brusquely replied. "What is it? Just let the anger out, son," the other murmured, placing a hand on the raging twenty four year old's shoulder. "I don't need to. Nothing happened, hard hat," the runner growled, brushing away the comforting hand. The older male sighed," Alrighty then, here's your uniform. You only get one pair until the next shipment comes, so make sure you wash it every night." He held up a clothes hanger with a comfortable reddish terra cotta t-shirt, murky beige pants, headphones with ear piece, belt, long white socks, a strapped duffel bag looking backpack, and a chain of dog tags. "Dinner is served already, ya ought to get down and eat before you starve yourself." The bostonian took the clothes numbly as he watched the other head down to the dining room.

Scout threw his uniform onto the floor before removing a navy cotton jacket from his trunk. Pulling it over himself, he placed the hood over his head and went on his way to the dining room. Heading through the hallways, he finally found where he went to go. The Spy and the Sniper was nowhere to be seen, yet the other mercs were all seated on large oval shaped wooden table. They stopped their talking and eating once their newest recruit showed up. There was a spot open between the Pyro and the Heavy with a plate filled with food next to some metal utensils. Sitting down, the runner blandly looked at his plate as pure silence emanated in the room. A freshly grilled steak laid on it with a dash of creamy mash potatoes followed with dripping gravy was in one corner. A baked potato stuffed full of sour cream, specks of onions, and shreds of bacon laid next to it. Crunchy french fries were carefully placed next to it, doused in gooey golden cheese. A smaller plate next to it held funnel cake with the perfect amount of powdered sugar and candied raspberries that held a irresistible sugary smell.

Gaping at the amazingly prepared food, Scout forgot about his recent issues and he suddenly remembered his huge hunger. There was a moment of pausing, where everyone was completely still. Then, all of a sudden, he grabbed his fork and buried his face into the heaven of deliciousness. Shoveling the baked potato into his throat, he immediately choked. Spluttering, he hit his fist hard against his chest. There was a loud eruption of laughter among everyone except the choking victim.

As Scout started to hack and splutter more, the Heavy turned to the person next to him. "Doktor!" he bellowed as the german man stood up with his hands doing a "relax" sort of motion. "Ja, ja, ja," he said with a smile as he walked behind the younger male, wrapped his arms around him, then pushed back at the stomach. After a few more pushes, the runner finally swallowed the stubborn piece."Scout eats much but teeny throat couldn't handle, da?" the huge man joked as the Pyro emitted a muffled chuckle.

Scout quickly finished up as he stretched back. He had grown much more comfortable as the room buzzed with conversations. He licked his lips that were stained with raspberry juice and powdered sugar. "Who made this stuff?" he asked, putting his feet on the table and leaning back. "Your one and only," Engineer stated proudly, pointing at his chest. "Dat's pretty damn good, hard hat," he replied with satisfaction. "Well, don't get too comfortable 'cause we rotate cooks every week and today's Sunday."

After hanging around in the lounge, watching TV and drinking a can of Bonk! Atomic Punch (which he found in the fridge); he took a shower and came back to his room in a pair of pajamas. Slipping under the covers, he glanced at the thrown uniform on the floor before slipping into a deep sleep.

Dang it, I wish I was as good as Engineer when cooking.