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5047 No. 5047
Golly, I'm surprised there haven't been more Christmas fics! Tis the season, mon ami. Cat and I are collaborating on this, and with any luck, there will be more soon. Also, sorry if I overlooked any mistakes. I am tired.
(Note: in case anyone might ever wonder, odd numbered paragraphs were written by Cat, even numbered by Sonne)
The supply train slowed to a stop just outside 2fort that cold, December morning, rumbling and hissing as it halted parallel to the line of nine bundled up men of RED team waiting for it. They watched it, expectantly, their breath poking through scarves and pulled-up sweaters in puffs of condensation, and they shivered and shifted their feet to keep warm, thought their movements were livelier now that the train had arrived with its precious cargo.

They were lined up almost perfectly from tallest to smallest, like a set of shivering matryoshka dolls left out in snow. There was Scout, who, despite his lean build, was taking the cold in stride, and Pyro, who had lit himself a little flame to keep warm. Sniper and Engineer stood next to each other, bundled up in many layers and shivering intensely in the gelid air. Used to much warmer climates, the Texan and Australian were stunned and dismayed to wake up that morning to their Nevada base being taken by below freezing temperatures. Demoman was still yawning and stretching, largely unfazed by the weather, and Soldier was doing a standing jog, huffing to himself and trying to build thermal energy to keep him warm. Spy kept his hands shoved in his pockets and his head down, the smoke of his cigarette mingling with his wispy, almost tangible breath. The cold reminded of his last excursion to the Soviet Union, a harrowing time he’d rather not linger upon. Heavy was wearing an ushanka and a thick bearskin coat, and Medic, who’d wrapped a thick woolen scarf around his neck, was leaning on the Russian, taking his heat in like a furnace. His furnace.

"S'about friggin' time they showed up," Scout said loudly. "Man, I dinnit think it got that cold in the desert, did you guys?"

"I dinn't think it got this cold anywhere," Sniper muttered under his breath in a low, harsh tone. "Those blokes better have gotten my second sweater, or bloody 'ell, heads will splatter.""

Aw, vhat is matter?" Heavy asked, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Leetle baby Sniper does not like the cold?"

"I'm not made of bloody stone like you, mate," Sniper growled back at the Russian. All cold and no sun made Sniper a pissy man. "C'mon, train's here."
All nine of them moved to the train, and Heavy was the first to make it to the cargo car's doors, pulling them open with a grunt. Inside were crates stacked up on top of each other, as well as a mailbag and several packages wrapped in brown paper. The lack of contact by any other humans during these deliveries was to be expected, really, and RED team had long sine stopped questioning it.

"Hey, lemme in!" Scout ducked under Heavy's arm and rushed to the nearest mailbag, opening it and digging through the letters carelessly. He was followed by Engineer, who was trying to get in mostly for the heat, and then the rest of the team, save for Medic, who let Heavy go through before he entered. Just as the team was going through their various items, Pyro noticed a huge, lumpy package in a dark corner of the train, one almost as big as Heavy. "Hhhh...?"

"Woah, watcha got there firebug?" Scout took a sniff of it, and, recognizing the scent, suddenly became giddy as a child on Christmas. "Aw, no freakin way, they didn't get us a..." as he spoke, he tore the packaging away with a quick swipe of his hand. "They did!"

There, towering over them in all its bristly, green glory, was a pine tree. Its scent permeated through the entire car, and for a brief, fleeting moment, they all gazed upon it, looking like children that had just unwrapped some long-awaited present. This silence did not last, however, as Pyro made a high-pitched, happy squealing noise, and did an odd little dance in place.

"How in tarnation..." Engineer muttered, more confused than anything. Why would HQ send them a Christmas tree? He didn't even think HQ even realized it was Christmas. They never got anything for holidays, save for those paper bag masks Scout once made. As he scratched the stubble of his chin, Scout broke a branch off and sniffed it deeply, sighing contentedly as he did.

"Aw, man, this is awesome!" Scout said excitedly. "It'll be just like Christmas at home with my ma an' my brothers! Christmas time at our house was the best, lemme tell ya. We saved up everything just ta make it special, y'know?"

"Yeah!" Soldier said, a manic grin suddenly coming over his face. "And besides, a good, American holiday will do all you lot good! We can decorate the tree with the corpses of BLUs, and use their enemy soldier's head as the star on top!"

"Is zat how you usually celebrated Christmas as a young boy, Herr Soldier?" Medic asked snidely.

"Me?!" Soldier asked, turning to the German with his face as red he as a boiling kettle. "I'll bet you and your queer commie butt buddy here decorate your Christmas tree with Swastiskas! And Hammers and Sickles! And dildos! And satanic pentagrams! And Mein Kampf! And-"

"I think that's enough, Soldier," Engineer said, putting a hand on Soldier’s shoulder. "C'mon, it's th' holidays. Can't ya just lay off th' insults fer just one time a' th' year?"

Soldier hmphed and turned away. Heavy looked ready to tear the American apart. But it seemed, however, Engineer had managed to keep the peace. But how long that would last, particularly if there was eggnog involved, seemed tentative. "Now c'mon, everybody. Seein' how we got ourselves a tree now, why don't we try to get into the season? After a year of unending combat, I think we could all use a little Christmas. Now, Heavy and Soldier, you two take the tree. I'll start gathering the mail."

Heavy and Soldier glared at each other, and the two of them closed in on the tree, as the others lifted up and moved packages out of the car. Heavy lifted the tree from the base, and Soldier carried it from the middle, and they maneuvered it out of the car, brushing its branches against several of their teammates as they made their way out. Soldier grumbled to himself angrily all the while. "Didn't think Commies even celebrated Christmas," he muttered, just loud enough for Heavy to hear.

"Did not think Americans asked their shovels for guidance," Heavy retorted as they made their way towards the base. Sighing, Engineer started gathering up all the packages, motioning for Demoman and Sniper to help. As they made off with the luggage, Scout ran all around them, all atwitter over the coming festivities.

"Man, Christmas Eve, we should have a huge fuckin' dinner, y'know? Everybody there, be just like my house, man, it'll be awesome!" Scout prattled on. He saw Pyro waddle alongside the tree, and he approached him. "What about you, Mumbles? Your family ever do shit like that?"

Pyro thought about it for a moment before answering. "Hudda hudda hurr hurr mff mm fmmly, nnd hrr shss nrr hrrda! Hhh, khh chrsmss trr nnd jww. Hurda!" ah, that brought back memories.

"Forget I asked," Scout said, rolling his eyes.

Even though their base was a drafty, decrepit old place, it was a warmer and much more appealing place than the outdoors. Heavy and Soldier came in first, followed by Engineer, Demo, and Sniper, then Scout and Medic, who turned the light switch on as they came inside. "Seal this dang place up," Engineer said as he dropped his bag and walked across the room. 2Fort base was never all that cold, but today was quite the anomaly. "Now, where can we put this tree up?"

We could always set it up in th' Rec room," Sniper suggested. "Gotta say, never had a tree like this before."

"You had pine trees in Australia?" Medic inquired. He was fairly sure that this wasn't so, but knowing Sniper, he'd probably say Christmas drop bears nested in them. And Soldier would probably believe him.

"Nah, we dinn'it 'ave anythin' like that," Sniper said, shaking his head. "'Sides, 'round Christmas, it's summer down there, so bein' in th' cold durin' Christmas is kinda weird for me."

"Oh, zhen zhis is zhe bushman's first time?" Spy said, having slunk back inside when nobody was looking. He wasn't going to stay out in the cold for a couple of cheap packages. "Don't worry," the Frenchman said snidely, "Eet only hurts a little."

"Wot th' bloody hell are you talkin' about?" Sniper asked, bristling a bit in Spy's presence.

"Your first /real/ Christmas, you dolt," Spy sneered, lighting a cigarette. "'Onestly, a warm Christmas? What a travesty!" of course, compared to the lambent streets of sweet Paris, the Champs Elysees illuminated by a million emphrysreal Christmas lights and coated in the immaculate December snow, anything would seem a travesty. Ah, Noel...Spy did not have many fond memories, but Christmas parties and walks in the snow, when the night was at a crescendo and the city was slumbering, save for its glittering lights, were things he remembered fondly. This dinky little military base was, in comparison, quite the downgrade.

"I'll have you know, that I had plenty a' good Christmases, ya spook," Sniper said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Got me first dog fer Christmas when I was seven years old. Named 'er Gladys. She was a good girl, she was. Me best friend growin' up... that was, until Dad ran 'er over one night when 'e came drunk. Again. On Christmas..." His face fell, and he became sullen, shoulders drooping and his head hanging. "Well, not all of 'em could be winners, I guess."

"Aye, lad, I know a thing or two aboot bad Christmases," Demoman heaved a sigh and threw his arm over Sniper's shoulder, looking like he was about to go off on a yarn. "When I was a wee lad, me parents...well, ye knoo, and I spent the rest of me Christmases in foster homes, where all we'd get for Christmas was a smack to the head and extra chores..." Demoman couldn't help but sniffle as he told his sad tale. Spy raised an eyebrow, wondering if the Scotsman was already a bit drunk that morning.

YOU THINK THAT'S BAD? HA!" Soldier shouted, interrupting Demoman and Sniper's pity party. "Why, when I was a kid, my mother would come home, drunk as a goddamned /skunk/, and she'd whip my hide with an /extension cord/ until I bled! And then sometimes, she'd make me wear a /dress/, and yell at me, asking why I couldn't have been born a /girl/, like she /wanted/, and then she'd whip me some more for good measure! And on /Christmas/, she'd get even /more drunk/ than usual, and one year, she told me and my brother to go out and get dad, and when we came back the whole house was /up in goddamned flames/! We found out she skipped town with some /filthy goddamned drifter/ and they fled to Tijuana! HA! BEAT THAT!" He paused for a moment in his story, and noticed that everyone in the room was staring at him, with a look of abject horror on their faces.

"W...well, let's just try to make this a nice Christmas, shall we?" Engineer shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the horrifying mental images soldier had given him. "Heavy, Soldier, y'all take the tree to the rec room. Medic, maybe you and Spy could start dinner? And Scout, come with me to my workshop. I got just the thing to make this place lookin' real nice."

"Yeah, okay, Hardhat," Scout said, still reeling from Soldier's story. He followed Engineer down, eager to get away as far away from Soldier as he could possibly manage.

"Please tell me you know how to make more zhen sauerbraten," Spy said to Medic as he walked out towards the kitchen. Medic glared at the Frenchman, but followed, blowing a kiss to Heavy as he left. Waving back, Heavy lifted the bottom of the tree and heaved it away with Soldier, who still had drips of cold sweat coming down from his helmet. Pyro followed Spy and Medic to the kitchen, hoping there would be fire and leaving Sniper and Demo all alone.

"Well, tha' was bloody depressin," Demoman said. Both he and Sniper realized the Scotsman still had his arm around Sniper's shoulder, and Demoman promptly removed it, retreating sheepishly and clearing his throat. "So, ah, d'ye think they gave us any eggnog as well?"
"We can go take a look, I s'pose," Sniper said, walking over to the pile of packages and looking through them. "I mean, if HQ sent us a bloody tree, they could at least send us something to wet our throats." and maybe to help them forget the thought of Soldier cross-dressing.

"They'd better," said Demoman. "I'm gettin' low on Scrumpy, an' I swear tae God, if they sent us any a' that 'non-alcoholic' crap, I'll be takin' the bloody tree an' shovin' it up somebody's arse!"

“Heh. Maybe you could make the bloody spook into our Christmas angel," chuckling, the marksman dug through the packages, finding medpacks, ammo, and other provisions before his hand found the top of a bottle. "We got drinks!" he said, pulling a heavy bottle of scrumpy out and handing it to Demoman. "And look, it's festive." Someone had taken the time to wrap a little red ribbon around the top of the bottle. How sweet.

Demoman gazed upon the bottle, a tear welling up in his good eyes, and he gave a little sniff. "God bless us, every one," he said.
Marked for deletion (old)
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>> No. 5050
I melted into a puddle at the cuteness of this story. The Soldier parts were awesome.
>> No. 5051
>>"Please tell me you know how to make more zhen sauerbraten," Spy said to Medic as he walked out towards the kitchen.

Tss, Spy has now idea how to celebrate a good, classic German christmas.

God, I hope you two continue soon, Soldier's and Sniper's parts were just awesome C:
>> No. 5052
Damn, no wonder Soldier is messed up. O_o
But Demo's reaction to festive scrumpy was the most d'aww inducing thing ever.
>> No. 5054
Ohman, I can't even choose my favorite part. The Demo/Sniper bromance, lots of uncomfortable situations, "d'aaw" moments with Pyro and Scout... ah, the whole thing is so wonderful and warm. Best. Christmas-related. Fanfic. Ever.
>> No. 5055
Christmas Drop bears, haha.
>Got me first dog fer Christmas when I was seven years old. Named 'er Gladys.
I see what you did there, and I giggled. but immediately felt sad at the car part. and jayzus, soldier...
I am definitely looking forward to more from you guys, this was great :D
>> No. 5057
^^ Merry Christmas TF2!
>> No. 5059
Loving it so far = ) Is that SniperDemo bromance awesomeness I saw right thar? 'tis the season!
>> No. 5077
All right, I will admit that you have stumped me - what does "emphrysreal" mean?
>> No. 5079
I apologize for dragging such an obscure word out. It means "resplendent," or "ethereal," really - a heavenly light. I got it from John Milton's Paradise Lost.
>> No. 5082

I couldn't find it on Dictionary.com, and Google failed me completely.

Are you sure Milton didn't make that word up just to fuck with the readers?
>> No. 5083
Well, this helps explain why everybody's so dysfunctional. And aww, Demo.
(but I thought Spy was Jewish...)
>> No. 5084
File 126021922792.jpg - (229.45KB , 1116x1200 , JewSpy.jpg )

>(but I thought Spy was Jewish...)

Doh ho ho ho ho.
>> No. 5085
>> No. 5086
Oh, God... no wonder Medic's a Nazi. Poor Heavy.

Sage for pointlessness
>> No. 5087
oh Cat, this brightened up my day <3
>> No. 5088
Well, he was writing in the 17th century, and words go in and out of style like clothes and sexual norms do. The entire thing is written in a gilded, magnificent and almost overwhelming prose, like he's trying to bowl you over with the sheer quality of his writing. It's probably just wicked antiquated.

>> No. 5089
Part Two of Sonne and I's Christmas Collab! Do not worry, we will write more. Hope you guys enjoy this, because this was fun to write. I am editing this right before I go to bed, so i apologize in advance if I missed anything.


“C'mon man, tell me what it is!" by the time Engineer made it to his workshop, Scout had already made it there, come back to bother Engineer, went back and accidently broke one of his machines and covered it up, and gone back to bug Engie some more. "What do you have to make this place look cool? Lights? Decorations? Hot chicks dressed in Santa costumes?" he was quite a festive mood.

"I got somethin' even better 'n all a' those combined," Engineer said, having finally reached the workshop dorr after taking his precious time getting there. "Ya dinn'it break anythin' in there, didja?"

"Me? Break something? Who d'ya think I am? Some kind of kid?" just as Scout tried to remember if he'd concealed the shards of glass under the table, Engineer walked across to the workshop to something as tall as him, draped in a dusty white cloth. "Y'know, somehow I think I'd rather have the Santa chicks instead of a white cloth," Scout said with egregious sarcasm.

"It's ain't th' cloth, dummy," Engineer said. "It's what's underneath. Behold!" He grabbed the sheet and yanked it off in one, swift motion.

Just beneath the cloth was a big, curvaceous jukebox, wood panel and lacquered beneath a layer of dust. There were a bunch of records lying just beyond a glass panel. "My pride and joy," Engineer said, dusting it off a bit. "I only get her out for the specialist occasions."

“Whoa, where the hell d'ya get that?" Scout asked. "Seriously, have you had that here the whole time, or what?”

"I had it shipped in pieces and put it back together," Engineer said, stroking the machine like it was a beloved pet. "And I've got a pretty dang big collection to go with it. Including Christmas music." yep, the halls of RED base were going to be very jolly- and filled with Johnny Cash - quite soon.


"PYRO, HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO KEEP YOUR GRUBBY GLOVES AVAY FROM ZE FOOD?" Medic shouted, whacking Pyro's hand with the wooden spoon he was holding.

Pyro squealed and backed his hand away, wincing. Honestly, why did the Doctor have to be so meant to him? He just wanted a bit of the cookie dough. "Now," Spy began, taking off his gloves and pulling the sleeves of his suit to his elbows, "I was zhinking to start zhe meal with something unoriginal and bland, to not raise the suspicion of your unrefined palates. You may be content with zhe grovel HQ sends us, but I, monsieur, am of a finer heritage zhen Hershey's bars and cracker jacks. First, a creme stew Pot an Feu, zhen some Pommes au Four to warm the night up, and perhaps a bit of..."

Spy stopped in the middle of his speech to stare at the Pyro, who was looking up at the Frenchman with wide eyes (presumably) and a look of imploring. "P...pie?" Spy stuttered. "Of all zhe delicacies I know, you want a measly little pie?"

"Uhhh lrrrrk purrrh," Pyro said timidly.

"Of course you do, Herr Pyro!" Medic said exasperatedly. "Everybody likes pie. Who even vhat 'Pommes au Four' are?" the German glared at Spy before taking out a cookbook. "Spy, hand me zhat tablespoon measurer."

Spy muttered darkly under his breath in French as he reluctantly obeyed. Medic flipped through the cookbook, humming with content, before turning to Pyro. "Vhat kind of pie should ve be baking, Herr Pyro?"

"Chrrclte!" Pyro said, clapping his hands together. Oh, how he loved chocolate. He loved it almost as much as he loved seeing a screaming enemy's carcass flay before his flamethrower in the heat of battle. That's what he wanted for Christmas, he thought to himself. A screaming, conflagrant body. But since he was in the kitchen during ceasefire, he'd have to make do with pie. Then again, the stove was pretty close by...

"Chocolate pie sounds good," Medic said with a nod.

"Yes, I suppose it's acceptable as a dessert if you have zhe palette of a six year old," Spy sneered, taking the book from Medic's hands. "Now, if you want real dessert, I'd suggest Crem brulee, perhaps with a bit of custard and-"

Pyro snatched the book from Spy's grasp. "CHRRCLTE PURRH!" He repeated forcefully, and bopped Spy atop the head with the tome.

“Ach! 'Ow dare you!" with an snarl, Spy grabbed a bag of flour and swung it at Pyro, only to inadvertently hit Medic over the head with it, coating the back of the doctor's head with the substance.

"Schweinhund!" Medic shouted, and reached for the wooden spoon again, bringing it across the Spy's face in a swift arc.

Spy cried out as the spoon smacked him across the face and reeled backward. “Why, you-” Spy reached for the nearest cooking utensil-which turned out to be a whisk-and smacked Medic on the head with it. If the German wanted a war, then a way he would get. And this time, the French would win!

Pyro let out a startled noise, and waddled away from the rapidly-escalating way, taking refuge in the pantry, and ducking between burlap sacks of potatoes in some pathetic attempt at camouflage. He could hear them fighting, yelling at each other in their mother tongues, and he looked around the pantry for some weapon to even the odds.

"Repugnant crypto-Nazi!" Spy shouted as he ducked a swipe from Medic's spoon and threw an egg at the doctor's face.

"Two-faced, back-stabbing Franzmann!" Medic retorted, and came at Spy with a fork raised over his head.

Spy dodged and grabbed the front of Medic's apron. In response, Medic moved his foot and caught the Frenchman's ankle, causing them to both trip and fall to the floor. With a snarl, Spy grabbed an egg and smashed it into the Doctor's face, coating his glasses in yoke. In response, Medic grabbed a pile of flour and threw it in Spy's face. Just as they grabbed at each other's throats, the pantry door opened, revealing a screaming Pyro with his hands in the air. The firebug, it seemed, had found the meat cleaver.

"TRUCE!" Spy screamed out, but it didn't come out fast enough, as Pyro rushed towards them, swinging the cleaver around before bringing it down between Medic and Spy, who rolled out of the way at the last second. Spy ran out of the kitchen, cloaking as he went. Medic tried to follow him, but felt a tug on his coat. He looked back to see one of his coattails had been pinned down by Pyro's weapon, and Pyro was trying to pull it out of the ground, grunting with exertion as he did. Medic grabbed Pyro by the wrist, and gave him a very stern, mirthless glare, and the fire starter wilted under his gaze.

"P...puurh?" somehow, Pyro doubted very much he was going to get any pie now...


"Where in the name of Patton's trousers are we supposed to put this goddamned thing?" asked Soldier, surveying the cluttered Rec room from underneath the rim of his helmet.

'Up your rear' was what Heavy wanted to say, but since he knew Medic wouldn't want him to get into a fight, he remained civil. "Over zhere, by zhe Sniper's jars of urine." His nose wrinkled at the sight. He wasn't exactly the most hygienic man out there, but he did wish the Australian would keep his jars of piss somewhere less...conspicuous.

"Goddamned filthy hippie, can't even be properly housetrained like a goddamned human being," Soldier ranted. "What the hell are we even supposed to do with them? It's disgusting! You see, /this/ is why we need Nixon in the White House. Bring us back to the good ole' days of Eisenhower. At least we could handle the beatniks."

"Must you?" Heavy said with a sigh. As much as he wanted to, he wouldn't pick a fight with Soldier. He would be the bigger man. Well, he was the bigger man. He was the biggest man! But not that kind of big. You get it, right? "It is Christmas, Soldier, not political rally. Let us all just /try/ to enjoy each other's company."

"Yeah right! Like you godless communists even celebrate the birth of Christ!" Soldier scoffed.

"Vhat is there to celebrate in birth of big deceiver?" Heavy asked with a raised eyebrow. "Religion is drug of people."

"I expected you to say as much," Soldier said with a sneer, letting go of his end of the tree. He started to gather up Sniper's jars of piss with all the enthusiasm one might expect of a man collecting someone else's bodily waste. "So, as far as /I'm/ concerned, you have absolutely no right to talk about how I should tolerate your pinko-commie-faggot shenanigans just because it's /Christmas/."

Heavy glared at Soldier and dropped his end of the tree. "I said Religion was drug, not holiday." even though he doubted Soldier would know the difference, or even care, he continued. "Holidays are good. Make people happy and close, and love each other and be kind. No that /you'd know anything about love."

"/Love/ is an emotion of the /weak/," Soldier snarled. "It is a /vulnerability/." For a moment, he looked as though he was going to add more to this, but shook his head, deciding against it. "Besides," he continued, "It's called /Christ/mas. It's got /Christ/ right there in the title. If it was just about being all lovey-dovey, then maybe the Jews would be celebrating it too."

"You are sad, stupid leetle man," Heavy said, shaking his head. "And didn't Jesus Christ say to love everyone? If you think love is weak, how can you be like Christ?" Heavy outsmarting Soldier? It is good day.

Soldier grumbled to himself, unable to come up with a sufficient response. No doubt he would have the perfect retort later, but he wasn't even sure if it was worth the effort to try and explain the subtleties of the American philosophy to this, mentally-defective Ruskie. He gathered all of Sniper's jars, and started to make his way out the door. "Just set up the goddamned tree in the corner," he said. "I'm going to 'dispose' of these."

"Don't let Sniper know," Heavy warned Soldier as he situated the tree in place. Last time some one tried to mess with Sniper's jars, there was quite an unpleasant scene involving a screaming, apoplectic Australian and a terrible scuffle. And just as he was thinking of scuffles, Heavy heard a commotion upstairs, following by cries in German and French. What the...?

With little forethought, Heavy ran out of the Rec Room, brushing past Soldier, nearly sending the commando toppling over. A single jar of fermented urine fell from his grasp and shattered against the floor, splashing its contents against' Soldier's boots and pants legs. Heavy could hear Soldier shouting angrily behind him, but he didn't care. His Doktor was in trouble, and he bounded as quickly as he could towards the source of the noise.


An involuntary shiver ran through Sniper, just as he was bringing the bottle of scrumpy to his lips. He and Demo had hidden behind a few bales of hay to enjoy their festive drink, away from the chaos of preparation. "Something's wrong," the Australian muttered, looking up from where he was sitting to see around. As if cries from the kitchen and Heavy roaring from downstairs weren't confirmation enough, Sniper suddenly had the most awful, apprehensive feeling. He knew something downstairs was wrong. Something..."My Jarate!"

“Oh, fer Christ's sake, man!" Demoman started, but was quickly cut off by the Sniper.

"It's my jarate, mate!" Sniper said. "It's in trouble! C'mon, come help me!" he grabbed Demoman's hand and pulled him up before rushing downstairs, hoping to god that his fears weren't being realized.


Heavy, meanwhile, was still barreling towards the kitchen, when he felt himself plot into some small, invisible thing before him. The Spy suddenly materialized from thin air, pinwheeling backwards and sliding across the floor on his back. Before Spy had the chance to crawl away, Heavy had grabbed a hold of his shirt collar, and was now hoisting him up in the air, his feet dangling well above the floor. "VHAT HAVE YOU DONE VIT DOKTOR?" Heavy shouted into his face.

"I have done nozzing, fat man!" Spy yelled back at Heavy, trying to kick the larger man's shins. "He attacked me with a wooden spoon, and I-" Spy, however, was cut off by a shrill, almost insane scream from downstairs.


"Aye, calm yourself, lad!" Demoman said, grabbing Sniper's arm and pulling him back. "Look, jes’ ‘cause it's not there donnae it's gone. Maybe the Heavy just-" he stopped midsentence as he saw Soldier come back into the room, wiping something yellow on his shirt and muttering to himself.

Sniper froze for a moment, and Soldier looked up. Their eyes met, and they stood, motionless, their eyes locked onto each others. The first to move was Sniper, you lifted up a rigid arm, and pointed at Soldier, his face twisting into a dark read grimace. "YOOOOOUUUUUUU!"

Demoman had to dig his heels into the ground and hold onto Sniper for dear life to stop the marksman from ripping Soldier to shreds. Sniper screamed and snarled, trying to break free from Demoman's hold, rapidly becoming more and more disheveled until he was just shouting gibberish. Soldier, all the while, just looked at the crazed gunman before him with a look of disdain. "Someone give the hippie acid or something?" he asked.

"YOU YANKEE BASTARD, I'LL RIP OFF YER ARMS AN' BEAT YA T' DEATH WITH 'EM!" Sniper snarled, trying to wriggle free of Demoman's grip. Just as he made this threat, Medic wandered out into the hall, traces of egg yolk and flour on his coat and in his hair, followed by a very meek-looking Pyro.

"Doctor!" Heavy tossed Spy aside and rushed to Medic, taking the German in his arms and covering him with kisses. "Did Spy hurt you?" he asked, wiping the yolk off Medic's glasses. Seeing his captor distracted, Pyro tried to sneak off, only to be spotted by a disheveled Spy, who promptly took off after him with his knife out and shouting.

Engineer and Scout left the workshop, and there was an obvious spring in Engineer's step. "Y'know, Scout, I got a good feelin' about this Christmas. I just know it's gonna be a good one this-" He stopped, hearing shouting coming from elsewhere in the base. "What in tarnation...?"

Engineer blinked behind his goggles at the surreal scene unfolding before him. There was Spy, chasing Pyro around with his balisong and shouting in French, and Heavy, yelling death threats to the Frenchman as he cuddled Medic, who was sniffling and blubbering in German. Sniper had finally managed to break free from Demoman and jumped on top of Soldier, ripping at his shirt and punching every inch of the American he could get at. Soldier started fighting back, and Demoman, trying to break up the whole affair, got pulled in as well, making a three man scuffle that found its way to Heavy and Medic. Someone grabbed at Medic's coattails, prompting the disconsolate doctor to kick at them. In response, Soldier grabbed onto Medic's boot, dragging him into he argy-bargy as well. Heavy, compelled to protect his pretty little doctor, jumped in with a roar. Pyro, not looking where he was going, fell on top of Sniper, and Spy leaped at them both, crying out in French and ready to kill. There were a mass of limbs and swears and punches before Engineer and Scout, growing in violence until...


Everyone stopped their fighting to turn to Engineer, who was fuming behind his goggles. "I leave y'all to do a few little chores, and this is what happens?! And to think, all I asked was for a nice, civil Christmas! I'm disgusted." With one last grunt, the Texan stormed out of the room, tossing a record he had been holding to the floor. Scout looked over and picked it up. It was The Christmas Spirit, by Johnny Cash.

"Aw, geez," Scout muttered. He looked back up at the others who were looking embarrassed and ashamed. "Thanks a lot, /guys/." he said, and followed after Engineer. "Hey! Hardhat! Wait up!"

Slowly, the team got up from their argy-bargy, slowly and one at a time, like a bunch of penitent children caught in the midst of mischief. First Pyro, then Spy, then Demoman and Sniper, the latter still shaken. Then Soldier rose, only upset because he'd hurt the feelings of the other two Americans on the team, and then Heavy, who lifted Medic up and held him close. For a minute, they were all silent, not knowing what they could really say. It was Demoman who finally spoke, and his words couldn't have been more candid: "Well, we sure fucked up Christmas."
>> No. 5093
I just couldn't stop laughing, especially at Sniper's 'Jarate sense'.
>> No. 5094
I'm over here laughing at the Sniper's Jarate-sense. Most useless superpower ever!
>> No. 5095
there were only a few little errors I noticed, cat- most specifically the use of 'way' instead of 'war' during the epic Spy vs. Medic food fight.

>> No. 5096
That made me melt and laugh at the same time.

And I could see the Soldier/Sniper staredown perfectly.
>> No. 5097
Heh... funny and very entertaining. Riddled with mistakes though. They kinda detracted from the enjoyment. Otherwise, awesome read = )
>> No. 5100
>ducking between burlap sacks of potatoes in some pathetic attempt at camouflage

Lol, Oh Pyro.
>> No. 5104
He fixes problems, son, not exacerbate them by KILLING EVERYBODY

although, at that rate, I might do that if I were him...
>> No. 5105
>>compared to the lambent streets of sweet Paris, the Champs Elysees illuminated by a million emphrysreal Christmas lights and coated in the immaculate December snow, anything would seem a travesty.

I literally sighed with content upon reading that part. YEAH I FINALLY GOT AROUND TO READING IT.

C: I am smiles and laugher!
>> No. 5115
Oh my gosh, this fic made me d'aww and giggle. Pyro wanting pie, Medic-Spy fight, the massive hilarious scuffle.

Laughing hysterically at Sniper's Jarate sense as well and the fact that he cares so much about it. Wtf.

>"It's my jarate, mate!" Sniper said. "It's in trouble!"

I was almost honestly tearing up a little I laughed so much at that part.

Awwwww at the holiday clusterfuck. Needs happy ending.
>> No. 5124
This is totes cute (Pyro! <3), but needs betaing badly.

Also: no pine trees in Aus? Wot? We were settled by Brits, man, we're riddled with the things.
>> No. 5125
The Sniper/Demo/Soldier Christmas stories reminded me of this:

>> No. 5127

>> No. 5315
Seriously, though, this took forever. The ending was ever so elusive, which is probably why this stretches so long. All in all, though, I had a good time writing it, and I hope Ms. Bountry did as well. Merry Christmas, everyone!


Despite how cold the desert was at night, Engineer was outside, bundled up in a coat and hovering outside the front of RED base, shivering and exhaling plumes of condensed air. He didn't want to be inside with the rest of his team anymore. They were hopeless; lost causes that could never pull themselves together, not even for Christmas. Why, it was infuriating. He needed the time alone, time to stew in his own frustration, try and think it over. He only wished it wasn't so darned nippy out.

"Hey Hardhat?" Scout called out tepidly as he stepped outside. It was pretty friggin cold out, but nothing that he hadn't already experienced back home in Boston. Rubbing his bare arms, he wandered outside looking around, spotting Engineer sitting on a ramp by the base, rubbing his hands and shivering. He walked over to him, wondering if Engineer would tell him to go away or just sigh discontentedly. You could never tell how a person would act when they were disappointed. When Scout was disappointed, he screamed at every around him and sulked for hours. Was Engineer the same?

"What is it, boy?" Engineer asked, secretly hoping Scout would leave. He very much doubted it, though.

"Ah...just came out to see how you were doin', is all," he plopped down next to Engie, heaving a breath and watching his heavy breath wind upwards, towards the dark sky. "So...you okay, man?"

"I'll live," Engineer sighed. "Just... agitated, is all, I s'pose."

"Aw, don't pay attention to those cockfags," Scout said, clapping his Texan companion on the shoulder. "They wouldn't know Christmas spirit if Santa descended onto this base and shoved it up their asses."

"That's... certainly an interestin' mental image there, Scout," Engineer said with a soft chuckle.

Scout chuckled back and gave Engineer a playful punch in the shoulder. "C'mon, man, we don't need those morons. We can have our own christmas, in my room! I can share turn on the lights, and give you some of the holiday cookies my mom sent me, and show you these real sweetass baseball cards-" scout stopped midsentence. Dammit, you're sounding like you're a ten year inviting a friend over. Man up! "And we can drink, and talk about babes and stuff."

"That's awfully nice a' ya, Scout," Engineer said. "An' I appreciate it, I really do... I jes'... hell, I dunno. I think I might need some time alone fer a bit, if it's all th' same t' you." He hugged himself tighter, and rubbed his hands over his arms.

"Yeah, sure..." Scout let himself sound content, but in reality, he was wicked pissed. Not at the fact that Engineer didn't want to hang out with him, but at how downtrodden the rest of the team had made the Texan. The guy only wanted a little Christmas fun, and everyone had to be fucking morons and ruin that for him! Well, Scout wasn't going to let them get away with it. He was gonna go give 'em a piece of his mind.

Scout stormed back inside, stomping loudly as he came through. When he came to the scene where the fight had taken place, everyone was gone, no doubt off to do their own thing. just as he was about to leave, he saw Pyro poke his head out of his room, like a prarie dog peeking out of its hole. Pyro turned his head, saw Scout scowling at him, and let out a terrified squeak, closing the door as Scout ran towards him.

"Open the door, ya mumbling midget!" Scout yelled, banging on the door. "Engineer's out in the cold being all depressed and shit, and its you guyses fault! So either you help me set things right, or I will beat ya friggin head in with my bat and use it as a christmas tree ornament!"

"Nuurrr!" Pyro whined, refusing to open the door. "Lurrv murrr urrlurrrn!"

"Fine, ya fucking coward!" Scout smacked his fist into the door one last time before grumbling and turning, spotting Demoman in the courtyard. He was looking for Sniper, who had wandered off in a distraught, jarate-deprived fugue. "Hey, cyclops!" Scout yelled at the Scotsman. "Yeah, I'm talkin' to you!"

"Ach, what d'ye want, ye dunder'ead?" Demoman growled. "Can't ye see I'm busy?"

"The only thing you should be busy with is fixing all the crap you started!" Scout yelled, walking into the courtyard. "Engineer's going to freeze out there, when he ought to be in here, enjoying himself! Now, come help me fix things, or I'll do things with this baseball bat t'ya you wouldn’t think were possible!" Scout froze up a little at those last words, and replayed the sentence in his head. Did that sound gay? Maybe.

Demoman sighed, guilt clearly written all over his face. "Yer right, lad. Christ, I feel bloody awful fer 'im. Wot're ye thinkin' we do tae lift 'is spirits, exactly?"

"Uhh..." Scout hadn't really thought that far. His line of thought had pretty much been YELL AT PEOPLE, BE OBNOXIOUS, MAKE THEM FEEL BAD, and so on. Just then, however, he remembered what he and Engie had been doing before the brawl had interrupted them. "I'll go call everyone else," he said to Demoman. "Think you could help me lift something?"

"'Course I can help ye lift somethin'!" Demoman said, looking more cheerful now. "S'wot I was offerin' weren't I?"

"Cool," Scout said, nodding with a smile. "You go and grab Engie's jukebox, it's at the foot of the stairs to his workshop. I'll go see if I can the rest of those cockfags in gear." As if on cue, he heard the sounds of Heavy and Medic, Medic sobbing incoherently and Heavy shushing him. He had his work cut for him, it seemed.

Scout decided to wander over closer to Heavy and Medic as Demoman trotted off. When he got close enough to hear what they were saying, he stopped ducking out of view and listening in for a moment.

"Hush, hush, doctor," Heavy was saying, patting Medic on the head. "The bad Soldier and Spy are gone now...you are safe, with me..."

"Danke, Heavy," Medic said with a sad little sniffle. "I'm sorry, I should not be crying like zis, I'm acting like a baby..."
HEY BABIES!" Scout said, as if on cue. "Enough bitching already! We gotta Christmas to put together!" golly, this sure was sounding like a Christmas special! And then Scout couldn't get the Sam the Snowman out of his head. Dammit.

"Vhat did you call me?" Heavy asked in a very threatening monotone.

“I called you to get your big butt down to the rec room and to bring ya doctor to!” Scout yelled as he ran out of the room. Downstairs, Demoman had managed to gather the whole team together, from timid Pyro to the very indifferent looking Spy. They were an intimidating crowd, and it took some courage to muster up something to say. “So, uhh…how we all doin?”

"Shouldn't you be the one answering questions, maggot?!" Soldier yelled at Scout. "You're the one who called us back out here! While I was in the middle of a very important meeting with Shovel, too!"

"Awright, awright, jeez," Scout said. "Look, I called everybody here 'cause you guys kinda ruined Engie's Christmas. He was lookin' forward ta alla us gettin' along and havin' a nice time, an' then ya had ta go an' start figthin' with each other. An' I mean... I can't..." He was stumbling over his words a bit. "I guess i can't stand ta see 'im like that, is all."

"And what do you propose we do about Engineer's wuined wittle chwistmas?" Spy said mockingly as he lit a cigarette. "We are hired killers, not children in a second rate made for television holiday special."

"I just wanted ta make this /special/ for him, okay?" Scout blurted out angrily. "I mean, c'mon. Guy's away from home, away from his family... he's actually got family at home. Show a little appreciation ta the guy, huh?"

"Hurrda hurr!" Pyro said, nodding emphatically in agreement. "Wrr cnn purt up lghts, nd murrk purrh, urnd lrrght thr chrstms furr..." suddenly, Pyro was in a daydream, thinking about flickering fires and dancing flames and conflagrant little elves...

"Oh, please, you're not serious about zis?" Spy asked.

"Well, woi not?" Sniper asked. "Just cause you nevah had a good christmas don't mean ya have to be such a Scrooge about Truckie's christmas. Oi'll do whatever it is ya need me to do, Scout."

"I've had plenty of good Christmases," Spy grumbled, crossing his arms in indignation.

"We're with ye lad," Demoman said, turning around to see if they were in consensus. Eventually, the rest of them concurred, first with Pyro, then with Demoman and Sniper, and with Medic and Heavy, still grumbling, and Soldier, who grunted in response. Spy, simply hmphed, but didn't cloak or saunter off. "What do ye need us tae do?"

"Well, okay... first thing's first," Scout said. "Demo, Didjya get the jukebox?"

"Brought I’ oop to tae top o' the stairs," Demoman said, nodding. "Got some o' the records lying aroond too."

'Good," said Scout. "Okay, so, listen up, here's the plan..." Scout gestured everyone to come in closer, as he relayed his plans to the rest of the team.

"Ok, Medic, I want you and Heavy to make us some Christmas cookies and cocoa and crap," He figured since those two liked each other, there wouldn't be any more kitchen mishaps. Unless they decided to just screw each other. That could mess things up.

"I believe ve can handle zat," Medic said with a nod.

"Sniper, I want you to go and...uh...make some Christmas decorations," Sniper was Australian, which obviously meant he would be good at making stuff. You know, to survive with. And stuff. Well, you come up with something better for a crazed gunman with a freaking-urine fetish to do!

"Christmas decorations? How th' bloody hell am I s'posed to-" he stopped, and noticed the pleading look Scout as giving him. He sighed. "Roight. I'll figure somethin' out, then."

"Right. Pyro, I want you to make lights. I dunno if you can find electric lights, or candles or whatever, just make the place look good," then, remembering it was Pyro he was addressing, he added something. "And safe. Make sure they're safe."

"Yurr hurrdd trr gurr rrrrn mrr furrn," Pyro said, trying to snap his fingers in an "aw, darn," gesture, though his gloves made this impossible.

"Demoman, I want you to get the music working," Scout said. "Some of that Johhny Cash stuff. And if there are any of those old TV jingles, put 'em on too." he was gonna make this place like home for the forlorn Texan, if it killed him.

"Soldier, you uhh...go scout the area for jackalopes. Make sure the base is secure," Scout was sure if he gave Soldier something that he could use his militant zeal on, he'd be busy and out of the way. "And Spy, I have a secret job for you..." taking a reluctant Spy by the shoulder, Scout whispered something in his ear.

Spy's leaned away from Scout, looking bemused. "You want me to /what/? Surely, you jest."

"Nope. Come on, I need ya to do this, Spy," Scout said pleadingly to the frenchman. "If, ya do, there might be something in it for you..." he couldn't believe he was doing this, but from his back pocket, he pulled out something he didn't think he'd ever show another person. It had been accidentally packed in with his stuff when he first arrived at the fort, and at first, he had no idea what to do with it...but now, it was his trump card. There, in the boy's hands, were the soft, frilled pink undies of his own mother.

The Frenchman's eyes went wide with intense interest, though he shook his head, trying to regain his composure. "Not here, boy, put zose away," he said, his voice low. "I'll talk wiz you about zat later. But fine. I will do your errand."

"Hardhat! Yo, hardhat!" Engineer looked up to see Scout bounding towards him, still moving with his usual quickness despite the biting cold.

Engineer turned to see Scout coming up to him once again, a big grin on the boy's face. "Oh, howdy son. What are you doing out here? It's cold."

"Came lookin' for you," Scout said, coming to a stop and trying to catch his breath. "We're worried about you, man."

"What's all this 'we' business?" Engineer asked, shifting his knees closer. "Last I saw, everyone was in their own lil' world. No one cared about each other, let alone me. How is that supposed to have changed?"

"Look, just come on, inside," Scout said. "It's friggin' cold out, an' I don't wanna find out ya friggin' froze ta death out here."

"Eh. Alright, boy." Engineer grumbled and stood up, a spectral wisp of air coming out of his mouth as he sighed. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he followed Scout back into the base, too disgruntled to notice the bright lights shining out of the fort's orifices or even the little flecks of snow now falling from sky. When Scout rushed ahead and opened the door for him, however, all became clear.

There, just inside the entrance of the base, were six of RED team's members, all gathered to greet Engineer. Colorful, improvised lights were strung up along the walls, and strains of Bing Crosby singing Christmas carols could be heard. Engineer stood in shock, pulling up his his goggles from his eyes and blinking in disbelief.

"Merry Christmas, lad!" Demoman said, a Santa hat on his head and a wide smile on his face. Engineer noted the bottle of scrumpy in the Scotsman's hand. "We were feelin bad for ye, so Scoot go' us all together and made us ma' t place real nice for ye." the others around him nodded.

"We're sorry about wot happened earlier," Sniper added. "We wanted ya t' feel appreciated, since yer always lookin' out fer us an' wotnot."

"Well, shucks, fellas, I don't know what t' say..." Engineer said bashfully. "This was mighty thoughtful of ya, doin' all this fer me..."

"Think nothing of it, private!" Soldier said with a smart salute. "Which reminds me..." he had a burlap sack slung over his should, and swung it around in front of him. Engineer was surprised to see it squirming around, and Sldier opened the sack, fishing around inside to produce... what appeared to be a jackrabbit with antlers and a false red nose. "Manged to find Nevada's own version of Rudolph while I was patrolling the area."
Engineer couldn't help but blush as he took the fidgeting jackrabbit in his arms. He was such a sucker for these things. But where did the antlers and nose come from? "Aw, hell, everyone, you didn't hafta..." he was cut off by Sniper before he could finish.

"Ya like th' lights, mate?" Sniper said excitedly. "I did 'em meself. With Pyro, o’course.“ Pyro gave a happy little mumble and waved to Engineer. “Was hard findin' all them spare bulbs, but Pyro’s got a lotta…resources. Looks good, eh?"

Pyro had strung up a whole bunch of lights and hung them around the base, using the wires and car batteries from Sniper’s razorback to power them. Sniper used Scout’s markers to color them in (badly), resulting in a series of disjointed red and green lights and shadows all around the room. They weren't the best Christmas lights, but hell, they thought he'd done a good job.

"They... they look good, Pyro, Sniper," Engineer said, giving the Australian a reassuring pat on his shoulder and smiling at Pyro. "Ya done good."

"Und vie haff food!" Medic burst out the kitchen, a wide smile on his face and a chef's hat on his head. Behind him was Heavy, wearing a big apron and carrying a tray stacked with frosted sugar cookies in one hand and a plate of gingerbread men in the other. "Now vie can enjoy zhe season!"

"Thanks, Doc!" Engineer said, and took a cookie from the plate. He had to admit, he was surprised it tasted as good as it did; knowing Medic, he was half-expecting it to be laced with some sort of experimental drug. "Geez, these're good. I can't see how this could git any better."

"Ho ho ho!" They all looked to be Spy, whose new santa claus mask was working magnificently. Gone was the slender, waspish Frenchman, and in his place was a fat, jovial Saint Nick with cheeks the color of Macintoshes and a big red suit over his normal pinstripe one. Behind the mask, Spy was finding it difficult to keep in character. This was very out of character for Spy, but unlike his usual disguises, he was not enjoying this. At least he usually got to disguise as other killers. Being the happy fat man of the North Pole was not his style. And panties or not, he /was/ going to get Scout back for this.

Engineer stared, mouth hanging open slightly, at first. But then it was quickly replaced with a grin, and he shook his head and chuckled. "Well, I'll be darned."

"Oh wow, guys, it's Santa!" Scout exclaimed in feigned surprise. The others followed suit, looking up at Santa spy and pretending to be awed. "Did you come to give us all /presents/?"

Spy tried to suppress a twitch in his eye. "But of course!" He said, as he felt himself slowly dying inside. "Have you all been /good/ little boys this year?"

"Aw, yeah!" Sniper said, enjoying Spy's palpable discomfort. He patted Engineer on the shoulder as he spoke. "Especially ol' Truckie 'ere. Got anything in your bag for 'im?"

"Whurrt abuurrh murrrh?" Pyro asked excitedly. "Urrff nurrrh gurrt chrsshmsssh prsssnts urrrffurr!"

"Presents? You?!" Spy sneered, losing his cool. "You are all murderers! Hired killers, assassins, amoral outlaws! None of you imbecilic bastards deserve presents!! Uh...I mean, Ho ho. Ho."

"Is Santa feeling vell?" heavy asked, looking seriously concerned.

Spy desperately wanted to tell Heavy that Santa was pissed with the world freeloading off him and was contemplating suicide, just to hurt the Russian's feeling, but a sharp, reprimanding look from Scout stopped him. "Y-yes, Santa is divine. Now, what do you want for Christmas, Mr. Engineer? I hear you've been very good this year." He made a mental note to pencil in an appointment for December 26th: kill fucking everybody.

"T' be honest... all I really wanted fer Christmas was t' spend it with friends n' family," Engineer said. "But since my family can't make it... well, gosh, fellas, y'all already gave me what I wanted."

"Really? Good!" Spy ripped off the mask and tossed it aside with a flourish of smoke. "Zhen I can take zhis ridiculous zhing off and go back to killing scout!" he hopped off the stairs and started chasing Scout, who ran out of the room either laughing or panicking. They really couldn't tell.

"I s'pose it was too good t' last," Engineer said with a sigh. "New wrench would'a been nice, too.

The rest of the night was spent in comparative harmony; besides Scout having to avoid a homicidal Frenchman, they were all peaceful and friendly, sharing stories and enjoying Medic and Heavy's confections. The Jackrabbit hopped about the base, occasionally trying to escape or pull its nose and antlers off, but this was always prevented by a watchful Soldier. Engineer seemed to be the prince of the party; when he talked, everyone listened, and when he commented, everyone agreed. He was really very touched by it all, but in a way, it made him feel a bit lonely. For all the songs and treats and decorations they enjoyed, he was reminded of the same things he had when he was back home. And as nice as it was to have them here, his teammates couldn't replace his family.

When Engineer announced that he planned to retire for the evening, everyone bid him good night, and watched him leave with a bit of apprehension. The silence among them after Engineer had gone was thick and awkward. Finally, Heavy did them the favor of breaking it. "Did vie do good?"

"If we didn', I dunnae how tae do good," Demoman said, taking a last swig from his scrumpy. He'd spent a good deal of the evening singing all the Scottish carols he knew (which meant much repetition of Auld Lang Syne). Now, he was worn out, his throat too sore to sing and his mind too fuzzy to talk. "Ahm gooin tae bed too. Night lads."

"Sounds like a good idea," Sniper said, getting up to stretch his back until it cracked. "See ya around."

One by one, they all retired to bed, until not a soul was stirring in the base, not even a scout. It was a restless night for many of them, particularly Engineer, who had visions of his baby daughter dancing in his head. And with Medic in his kerchief and Heavy in his cap, it seemed they were all tuckered in for a long winter's nap.

The next morning, Scout was the first awake, as usual. Soldier would be up shortly afterwards, no doubt, ready for his morning regiment, but right now, the whole base was still asleep. Scout headed for the kitchen for his morning caffeine, walking past the rec room for a moment and sleepily regarding the presents underneath the Christmas tree. He almost continued on his way before he stopped with a jolt, and went back to do a double take. "Whoa!" He cried out. "Th' hell did those come from?

Yes, there was a whole pile of presents underneath the tree, which was decked out with actual lights and decorations, not the crumpled pieces of paper and sticky bombs Sniper had used to decorate it. They all had different names on them, and these weren't their company names, these were real names. Scout felt delightfully wicked as he read the names over. "Hey Jane! Tavish! Get down here, there are presents for ya!" he had no idea who those were, but whoever responded to his call would soon answer that.

"WHO THE HELL CALLED ME JANE?" Soldier hollered. That was quick, Scout thought. "PRIVATE, THAT IS CLASSIFIED INFORMATON, I DEMAND TO KNOW WHO TOLD YOU THAT WAS MY NAME!" Soldier appeared in the doorway, already dressed in full uniform, and looked to the presents under the tree. "The hell is this?"

"Presents!" Scout had already gathered all his together, ripping off the nametags and hiding them in his pocket. "Christmas presents! C'mon, go call the others!"

"You sure this isn't some kind of trap?" Soldier asked warily.

Scout opened one of the presents and let out a wild, jubilant whoop. "If this is a trap, than I hope we're riddled with 'em!" the boy exlaimed as he withdrew a shiny twelve pack of Bonk! From the wrapping paper. It was the new flavor, Isotope Orange!

"Oi, was someone callin' me name?" Demoman asked, staggering into view. "Because ye'd better 'ave a damned good reason fer-CHRIST!

A few actual name calls later, the entire team was assembled in the rec room, marveling at the sight beneath the tree. "How did zhis.." Medic breathed, picking up one of his own presents and shaking it. "Wait a minute...is zhis..." he shook it again and, recognizing the sound, opened it. "It is!"

"Vhat did Doktor get?" Heavy asked excitely, as he grabbed his own present, which was in a very large, cumbersme box.

The doctor felt himself becoming bleary eyed as he lifted the gift out of the box. It was glass and fragile china doll, with a lovely painted face. "I always vanted one," Medic muttered as he held it, a tear coming to his eye.

"Zat is vhat Doktor vanted?" Heavy asked quizzically. Medic gave him a narrow-eyed Look, and Heavy quickly corrected himself. "I mean, ah, is beautiful, Doktor. Just like you. Good present."

Soon, everyone was assaulting the tree, grabbing all the things they could and ripping them apart, leaving a sea of wrapping paper in their wake. New weapons, chocolates and fresh rations, and a few special somethings for all them. Sniper got a new pair of sunglasses and several gun catalogs; Spy, the latest Sartre book and a pink bra belonging to a certain someone; Engineer got a new wrench and a picture of his family; Heavy, yet another minigun (This one was called Tanya, apparently); Demoman, a thick, warm kilt and a pair of knee high socks to boot; Pyro, a collection of scented candles; Scout, baseball cards and new Spider Man comics, and Soldier, kitchen knives. Lots of them.

"Spah," Engineer asked, looking up from the portrait of his family, "did you do all this? Jes' fer us?"

"Moi?!" Spy asked incredulously, turning away from covertly sniffing the bra to turn to Engineer. "Do somezhing like zhis for voo? Are you really zhat dumb, or did you buy zhe hold Santa schtick?"

"Oh," said Engineer. "Scout, was this...?"

"How the hell would I get all this crap?" Scout said as he drank his third Isotope Orange. "Maybe the announcer got it or something." he crushed the can on his hand and tossed it aside.

"Trust me, I have met ze Announcer, and she would never go out of her way to do somezing like zis," Spy scoffed. "All right, who did zis, zen? Confess."

The entire room was silent as each teammate looked from one to another in confusion. Who was the culprit? "Blrr trrm?" Pyro suggested.

"Not a chance," said Soldier. "Well, not unless these gifts are actually explosives."

"Then it must have been..." Engineer noticed a little note under the tree, curled up besides the trunk. Picking it up, he unfurled it to find neat, elegant cursive handwriting. "Cream gravy..." he read the note over, and then again, wondering if it was legitimate. Slowly, he handed it around to the team, who all did double takes upon reading it.

"Merry Christmas, RED team!" it read. "Hope you enjoy the gifts I brought for you. Perhaps next time, it wouldn't hurt to leave some milk and cookies. Sincerely, You Know Who." And beneath that, in smaller writing, "P.S. tell your Spy his impression of me is good, but it needs some work. It wouldn't hurt to be more jolly!"

The note was handed back to Engineer, who chuckled and returned it to his pocket. Then, seeing something out of the corner of his eye, he turned to the window to see snow, falling over 2fort from grey and pregnant clouds. "Aww, look!" Scout pressed his face to the glass, and was soon followed by Pyro, who gave a little squeak of glee when he saw it. "C'mon, let's go build a snowman!" soon, they were out of the room, the rest of the team save Engineer following.

"Well, now," he said, looking up at the snow falling from the sky. "Don't that beat all?"
>> No. 5316
This...This is amazing. Every single chapter of this has made me giggle like a little girl, without fail. I mean, look at it. It had purr, and Shovel, and SantaSpy....This was just perfect on so many levels. I love you two for writing this. It made the holidays, for sure.

And pfffft. Soldier and his girly name. I love you so much, Jane Doe.
>> No. 5320
>>Demoman gazed upon the bottle, a tear welling up in his good eyes, and he gave a little sniff. "God bless us, every one," he said.

Hey uh, Cat, did Demo have a crutch too?
>> No. 5321
Spy... as SANTA. I lost it.
>> No. 5323
oh man you guys, this was fantastic. very well done
>> No. 5331
Awwww, my teeth have all rotted and fallen off from the sweet fluff.
>> No. 5334
D'aaw! So heart-warming. My Christmas is complete.

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