Scout stood there for forty minutes.

In forty minutes, Scout could have played 2 rounds of dodgeball. Or he could have ran fifteen times around the block. Or he could have watched a new episode of The Beverly Hillbillies. Or annoyed the living hell out of all of his teammates consequently - twice.

He'd lost so much precious time just standing there.

And on top of that, it was already practically dark and it was really cold.

And on top of that, tiny droplets of rain began drizzling all over Scout and his hatless head.

And on top of THAT, there were no cute librarian girls with librarian butts that he could check out. The horror.

All those facts didn't matter to him that much anyway, though. Scout stood there, because he was stubborn and he wanted his hat and he hated goddamn Engineer, that faggot.

Scout stood there, suffering in the shivering drizzly stubborn sidewalk prison that he had built for himself.

Why?

Because someone was going to rescue him. Someone would fly into the scene like a superhero and Scout would break free of his terrible spell. Together Scout and his real friend would look for his hat, but of course they wouldn't find it. They'd rant about how someone had obviously stolen it due to its sheer awesomeness and pimpin' anomaly. Then they'd hitchhike back to the base in some dude's car and afterwards they'd laugh about how he smelled like rotten salami. Then Scout would tell his true friend how he'd planned out their entire trip while he waited for him there by the cigar store. And the true friend would listen and laugh and call Scout cool nicknames like Lightning Toes, like a real friend would.

That's why.

And he especially didn't want to walk to the base alone because he'd get lost. His Ma always told him he had shitty navigational skills. She said he couldn't even walk one block to school on the first day. That wasn't even his fault, though. He was young and innocent. But Scout still didn't want to walk to the base alone. The city looked very big and scary to get lost in. And there weren't even any librarian butts he could ask for directions in case he got lost.

That's why.

So Scout stood there.

And then, just like his vision had foretold, Scout heard his true friend.

"SCMMMMMT!"

His head whirled over to see Pyro galloping towards him with arms spread wide apart.

Scout grinned. "PYRO, MY BROOOO!"

And then Scout suddenly escaped his mental prison, allowed his feet to fly into the air, and blasted towards Pyro full speed ahead.

The two clashed suddenly, right there in the middle of the sidewalk. Pyro had Scout in a headlock and was giving him a rubber-gloved noogie, and Scout was busy repeatedly whacking Pyro in the stomach with his elbow. Of course, all the while, the two were shouting expletives at each other.

"I MISSED YA, YA GODDAMN MUMBLY BASTARD!"

"YMMH LMMTTLH FMMCKR, YMMH!"

"AW, PYRO!"

"MH, SCMMT!"

They let loose of each other and then skipped down the sidewalk hand in hand.

"Man, it sure sucks to be around a flitty faggot all day!" bickered Scout as he swung Pyro's glove with his. "I'm tellin' ya. That bastard Engineer was flirtin' wit me all day, no kiddin'. He was talking to me and tryin' ta flatter me and stuff, y'know?"

Pyro gasped. "Mmh! Whmmt mh fmgght!"

"I know, right? Tell me about it. Like, I sat on dis goddamn bench and I turn around, and guess what?" Scout placed his hands on Pyro's shoulders and looked deep into the mask's goggles. "Next thing I know, the bastard's right dere - sittin' right NEXT to me! " Scout pulled Pyro closer. "On a BENCH and all!"

"WHMMT thmm FMMCK?"

"A BENCH, for Chrissake!"

Just then the wind picked up and the rain got heavier.

"Ugh, I'm getting rained on with goddamn water all over myself and I'm really cold and all," whined Scout in a nonsensical complain-fest. He sneezed like a rabbit - like a rabbit would sneeze if a rabbit could sneeze.

"Blmmsh ymmh," said Pyro.

"Yeah, th-th-thanks," Scout said, teeth beginning to chatter. The wind whoosed and his dogtags jingled.

Pyro, who was encased in that thick inflammable suit, didn't understand Scout's lack of warmth. "Smh Mh gmmsh ymm'rh rmmlhy cmmld, hmh?"

A wet shivering Scout wedged his hands under his armpits to conserve heat. "N-n-no s-shit I'm r-really goddamn c-c-cold."

So then Pyro wrapped an arm around Scout's waist strictly for the purpose of conserving heat, of course. "Thmmt btthr?"

"No."

Pyro's arm slowly shriveled away in a dead-awkward manner.

With a clash and a bash, thunder made its prescence clear to poor Scout.

Scout's eyes grew wide and he began running around Pyro in a worried circle. "Holy-fuck-it's-thunder-holy-fuck-bro-what-da-fuck're-we-gonna-even-do-we're-gonna-DIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!"

Pyro yanked Scout's arm. "QWMMCK! THMM PHMMNH BMMTH!"

A rumble of thunder sounded again. It was definitely out to get them.

They darted into the one-person phone booth, squeezed into it, and shut the glass. Scout and Pyro were basically smushed together, for Scout's face and Pyro's mask were somewhere around a centimeter apart and their chests could have easily molded into one.

Scout caught his breath. "Damn, was dat fuckin' scary as hell!"

Pyro nodded, huffing through the mask as well. "Ymmh."

Scout frowned. "Can ya put yer goddamn leg somewhere else? 'Cause it's basically in between my fuckin' thighs."

Pyro squiggled against the glass. "Shmrry. Thmmt btthr?"

Scout shrugged and adjusted himself. "Yeah, sorta."

"'Kmhy."

Scout thought for a moment, and then got them back on track; "Yeah, so, wait, I didn't finish tellin' ya about how much of a fagropeg dat goddamn Engineer is..."

So what happened in the aftermath is, quite simply, a happy ending.

After the rain was over, Scout and Pyro eventually went into the bookstore and asked the librarian lady Alyssa if she happened to have a nickel with her. She took one look at Pyro and basically threw the nickel at Scout's face.

They got a ride to the base from a very upset Sniper who wouldn't talk to either of them and kept muttering something about a polka-dot sweater or a thank-you letter or something like that. But when Scout asked him what the hell he was even talking about, Sniper just smirked and spit out the window.

And by the time they arrived, everyone was already asleep or 'telling Soldier about his day' or reading The Double Helix while operating on Demo's liver or reading Leonard Cohen while ironing a crisp new suit.

It was a wonderful battle-less night, and those raindrops seeped through the carpet like warm Jarate on a crisp new suit. And later Spy thought he forgot his wristwatch on the sofa so he walked to the living room barefoot in his pajamas, but then his foot intruded on a pool of cold raindrop carpet-puddle and Spy let out the most high-pitched squeal he'd ever produced. It distracted Heavy and really pissed him off because he was in the middle of giving Sasha her post-battle wax polish.

Speaking of Heavy, he never actually got to have a turn. Spoiler alert; he was going to be Stalin. But no one would have guessed that anyway - and if someone had guessed it then Soldier would have had a temper tantrum - so that's a good thing.

I guess one can say that the team ceased their day pretty well, and it surely felt like a long day to flitty fagropeg Engineer. He then decided, next time Scout intrudes on bookstore-plans, to become the assertive fellow he can sometimes be if he really puts some effort into it. (And Soldier 'likes' when Engineer puts 'effort' into being 'assertive.' Nudge, nudge. That was the 'topic' of Soldier's and Engineer's...'conversation'. HA HA HA HA OH GOD.)

In conclusion, I just wanna say a few last things.

This was going to be a story about emotion.

This was going to be a story about misery, sorrow, and the loss of will to live.

This was going to be a story about misunderstandings and quarrels and flitbags and faggots.

But, more importantly, this was going to be a story about bookstores.

And somehow it turned into this homosexual satirical garbage.

So yeah.

The end.

i can't wait to see what you guys thought of this terrible ending :')