He badgered you relentlessly. In his own way. Medic is not as brash and obvious as Scout, but you wonder if he’s learned a liquid slyness from Spy over the years; a startling seduction that evinces more velvet than steel.
At least you were alone when the first overture came. You can only guess at what the expression on your face must have been while you attempted to determine what the Doctor was getting at. The choice of words and interwoven threads of meaning clashed so starkly with what you had expected that comprehension eluded you. He was subtle, but once your brain snapped back into gear you realised what he was trying to communicate. You suppose you must have gaped from the way his smile widened into something predacious. He told you to think about it, and left you in the kitchen pouring juice on your trousers instead of in your glass, his boots clicking their retreat like a fingernail tapping the polished surface of a table. Waiting. Patient.
The fact that you never outright said “no” not only fuelled his persistence but also revealed to yourself that whilst it had never occurred to you, it didn’t mean that you weren’t interested once the idea was broached.
“But Heavy…” you’d stammered the second time he asked, his arm barricading you on one side when it had looked like you were going to bolt. The bone-white fabric of his coat was splashed with blood and you don’t know whether it was the metallic tang or the forceful brightness of it that induced the wildness in the size of his pupils. You knew the last thing you wanted was to stand between the giant Russian and his Medic, and you had no idea what game the Doctor was playing in propositioning you.
Your hesitation just made him chuckle. “He knows.” One hand rested against the wall next to your head, and he had caged you completely. You saw his nostrils flare as he leaned in, and you froze. “Zwei Liebhaber,” he sighed in your ear. “It is better. We can show you.” The heat from his breath slid down your neck. And then he was gone. You stayed glued to the wall, shaking in fear. Not of what he had said, but of how badly you had wanted it.