Chapter Text
“So, Jane, any plans for the holidays… er… Christmas, that’s the word!”
Soldier looked over from his spot on the card table seated in the rec room, across from Demoman in a squeaky metal chair. Between the two was the array of shotgun parts which Soldier was taking time to meticulously clean. A part of his weekly routine which Demoman had taken used to sharing while enjoying a bottle of whiskey.
Soldier huffed. “You mean Smissmas?” he corrected.
“Ach, yeah, whatever,” Demoman said with a wave of his hand.
“It’s not ‘whatever,’” Soldier said, frowning, “It’s the greatest holiday ever!”
“It’s Teufort slang, y’know? Not a real holiday, lad.”
Soldier slammed down the hand that held his cleaning rag on the table and partially standing up. “It is a real holiday!”
“Alright, alright,” Demoman calmed with a hand up, “No need ta get excited, boy.”
“I’m… I’m sorry, Tavish,” Soldier mumbled, sinking back down into his seat with his tail between his legs.
“Ye dinnae answer my question yet,” Demoman said casually when Soldier went back to wiping down the trigger.
“What?” Soldier wondered, slightly tilting his head.
Demoman chuckled and shook his head. Soldier was lucky that he was too adorable when he was confused for Demoman to get irritated with him. He was so caught up in his toenail-length temper that he forgot what Demoman was even talking about. Though seeing his helmet swing when he tilted his head made it worth it.
“I asked if ye had any plans for, eh, Smissmas.”
“Oh, Smissmas, yes!” Soldier exclaimed. They both had nearly forgot that Smissmas was upon them, save for the premature decorating in downtown Teufort they occasionally ventured to. Turns out that seasons in the deserts are non-existent and their seven-days-a-week (with one Sunday off every other week) made all the months look the same. “I plan to chop down my own tree for the castle! Just have to make sure the raccoons don’t get at it again.”
“Ah, sounds nice…” Demoman trailed off. Typical Soldier; he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. At least it confirmed his suspicions true, a setup for his next planned question.
“What’s with that tone?” Soldier asked, leaning forward in his seat and- presumably- squinting his eyes.
“What tone?” Demoman asked innocently.
“Right there!” Soldier pointed his rag hand across the table with a single finger, “That tone!” He stood up once more and leaned over the table to get in Demoman’s face. He tipped his head back so he could stare with his brilliant blue eyes- a rare sight for Demoman’s sore eye. Demoman couldn’t help but grin like an idiot.
“I dunnae know what yer implyin’,” Demoman teased on, “I can’t asked a friendly question?”
“TELL ME NOW OR I WILL SCOOP YOUR OTHER EYE OUT,” Soldier yelled, throwing his fist on the table and causing his shotgun parts to jump.
“Mmmph hhrmmr mmmr!” Pryo yelled from the other side of the rec room, swiveling around in their spot on the floor two feet away from the television. They were watching Star Trek, which happened to be their all-time favorite show. They were even currently wearing a Star Wars sweater that Engineer got them for their (supposed) birthday. Their expression was unknown behind the thick rubber, but the sound of their mumbles implied angry.
“Sorry,” Demoman and Soldier muttered in unison. Soldier sat back down with hunched shoulders and helmet back over his eyes. Maybe Demoman shouldn’t have tried to tease him again. A twinge of guilt bit at his side.
“Ah, I’m sorry, mate,” Demoman apologized, “Ya got me. I was just, eh… wonderin’… wonderin’…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ach, maybe another time. ‘t’s dumb.”
“You already started talking.”
The sudden response he received caught Demoman off-guard. Soldier wasn’t even looking up from his work, which now consisted of putting his gun back together. The way he mechanically moved his hands in near-perfect precision when assembling his weapons was always fascinating. He rivaled Engineer in his deadly combination of speed and accuracy.
“Hm?” Demoman hummed, snapping back to reality.
“You have already began speaking,” Soldier grunted, “Finish what you started, Scot.”
Demoman took a deep breath. “Just gunnae ask…” he mumbled, his cheeks suddenly feeling much warmer. He looked off to somewhere at the floor. “Ask if ye wanted to come home with me fer the holidays.”
The sounds of clinking metal stopped, and Demoman ceased his staring contest with the concrete floor. Soldier’s gun had been finished assembling, and Soldier clutched it with pride. His eyes were covered, but his slightly gaping mouth said all.
Well that was a dumb choice of words. Demoman tried to laugh it off. “See, told ye it was a dumb question,” he trailed off, “Forget I said anything.” Only stumbling for a moment, he got out of his seat and was ready to lock himself in his room for the night until the embarrassment was drowned in liquor. Despite how fond he was of him, Soldier was very literal; he would probably have forgotten all about it come the morning.
“Ha ha, I thought you would never ask!” Soldier suddenly exclaimed, standing to his feet, as Demoman was about to leave the rec room, “Oh, this is going to be great! We will have a great feast and can sing about Santa!”
Demoman blinked his eye and a wave of relief washed over him, forcing a smile out. This way good. This was really good. He asked the question, and it went over better than expected, judging by how much Soldier’s helmet was bobbling from his excitement as he brought Demoman in for a crushing hug.
Now to pass the next trial; fighting and taming the dragon, otherwise known as his mother.
----
“Doktor, we will be late,” Heavy complained, “We leave for train now.”
“Just vone more moment, bitte!” Medic called from inside the medbay, “I have not said goodbye to all of zhem yet, und I need to measure zhe rest of zhe seed for Miss Pauling.”
“Miss Pauling is smart, she can measure on her own.”
“You can never be too sure, meine Freund!”
Heavy groaned and perched himself to sit on his suitcase against the wall. Patience was a virtue and Heavy was a saint in it, but Medic was good at eating away at that. The poor man had been practically killing himself over the work he was rushing to finish before the holidays. Even Engineer was caught helping Medic out during some late nights over the past months; Heavy tried to help out but Medic yelled at him for worrying
The other thing Medic had to do before leaving was preparing to cope with parting with his pets- all 26 of them. Heavy had no idea how Medic kept track of each individual bird; they were all the same shade of white. Though it made Medic less fussy on the trip to Russia, so he would allow it. For now, he pulled his reading glasses out of his breast pocket and help a small novel in his hands to pass the time.
Demoman exited his room quietly and locked the door behind him, holding a much smaller suitcase in one hand and his car keys swinging in another. He began to descend down the hallway but stopped in his tracks when he noticed Heavy.
“Waitin’ fer yer mate?” he asked, hand on hip with a smirk.
“Da,” Heavy grumbled.
“Bird sayin’ farewell to all the birds?”
“Yes. It make him happy, so I let for few more minutes.”
Demoman shook his head, chuckling to himself. Those two truly were an old married couple, though that’s what he loved about them. “See ya in a week, big guy. Tell the doc I said bye, too.”
Heavy absently waved to the air, muttering something that wasn’t clear if it was English or Russian. Knowing Heavy, it was probably word soup. With that, Demoman had said his last good-bye to everybody else on the base.
Most of them exchanges of pleasantries were given the previous night while sitting around the fire. Engineer made his famous ribs, Pyro’s bonfire was expertly crafted, they all had good alcohol to celebrate the upcoming holiday, and it was great. The only people who didn’t drink was Scout and Sniper, who left as soon as the sun was beginning to set to catch their flights home, the latter giving Scout a ride to the airport. Spy was gone before sunrise, and Pyro, who was going home to Engineer’s family, gave Demoman a big hug while Engineer laughed.
“Jane, ye in here?” Demoman asked when he arrived at Soldier’s room. Before he could finish knocking, Soldier burst the door open with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a wide grin on his face. Somehow Demoman had convinced him to leave his helmet at the base, and admittedly Soldier looked a lot better without it.
“Sargent Doe, reporting for duty!” Soldier exclaimed, saluting Demoman.
A hearty laugh forced itself out of Demoman. “Alright, alright, let’s go boy-o,” he said, “We’ll visit the castle like ye wanted, but then we’re goin’ straight to the airport.”
“Affirmative!”
They walked side-by-side out of the base at to Demoman’s car parked in the back of the base. After they both got in the car, Demoman noticed something off about Soldier and furrowed his brows. Soldier was still wearing his normal uniform, minus the hat, which isn’t uncommon for them. However, considering the climate of their destination being much, much different than the desert, Demoman had his doubts.
“That’s all yer wearin’?” Demoman asked, “It’s gunnae be cold up there, ya know. Did ya even pack a coat?”
“I will be fine!” Soldier snapped, “I am not a child!”
Demoman raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll… go do something unrelated,” Soldier grumbled, slipping out of the passenger seat to sprint back to the base. The sand he kicked up under his clunky military boots glistened in the dawn sun. Demoman gave a bemused chuckle and waited in the driver’s seat, admiring the sun stretching over the horizon.
He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this happy. He was finally going to go and show his mother the best man he ever met in the war, the friend he’s laughed and cried and drank with for years now. They were going to have a great time, and everything was planned accordingly for maximum enjoyment.
So, what was this feeling biting at his side and telling him that something was going to go wrong?
Demoman’s thoughts were momentarily interrupted by Soldier clamoring back into the car, throwing a coat into the back seat.
“That ye, sir,” Demoman said, grinning, “Now, we’re off. See ya later, Teufort, an’ good riddance!”
“Yes!” Soldier exclaimed in agreement, “Goodbye, Teufort! We will not be writing to you!”
With that, the sped off down the barren highway. Soldier’s castle wasn’t too far off, but a little speeding to get there before the morning traffic began would be preferable, especially during the holidays. Demoman cracked the window down and hung one arm out as he drove to one of his favorite CDs playing. Soldier didn’t listen to music too often, claiming it was mostly “hippie trash”, but he seemed to not hate this album.
The difference between Soldier’s descriptions and absolutely massive scale of the previously wizard-owned castle in person were two very, very different things. It felt like it was straight out of a fairytale; large columns, a stone exterior, and stretching windows all topped with a winding road uphill gave off a very gothic vibe. Though the closer they got, Demoman saw the bits of junk and trash in the yard, most notably an old refrigerator half-buried in the dirt. Yep, this was definitely Soldier’s place.
What Demoman did not expect was to see their car be approached by a man with red bright hair in a khaki uniform. Demoman was about to say something but was cut off by Soldier jumping out of the car and greeting him. Judging by the stupid hat and shorts, there was no doubt this was a park ranger. He looked stern and extremely serious about her job; Demoman’s mom would have loved him.
The two exchanged a few words before Soldier popped open the trunk to pull out an absolutely massive bag of dog food. Strange enough, Demoman would have remembered Soldier packing that. Soldier must have stuck it in the trunk when he was gazing at the sunset. Honestly, Demoman shouldn’t have been surprised by Soldier’s seemingly random nature.
Then it hit him. Demoman had no idea how or even if his mom would get along with Soldier. They were both so stubborn and feisty over every aspect of their life, and neither were ever willing to step down for others. Demoman could already see the two getting into rough waters the moment they are in the same room together.
Besides that, Mrs. DeGroot was never a woman known for her maternal nature. To her, parenting was more like a drill sergeant job than a lifelong commitment. Everything she did was to train Demoman into being the best man he could be in her eyes. She gave very harsh love, and that didn’t come without the occasional smacks with her cane on the wrist.
Luckily, Demoman was a tough kid growing up and he came out just fine. Though he was more worried about how Soldier would be treated. Soldier never really talked about his home life. Wordlessly, it was told through quickly silenced conversations when the topic of family came up. All Demoman knew was that… something happened, and the puzzle pieces spelled that Soldier and his father were not on good terms before the man died. He was pretty sure he had a brother but there was no confirmation, and never did Soldier talk about his mother.
Demoman gave a silent prayer to his ancestors for strength and looked out the front windshield again. He needed to start keeping a better eye on this man, because within moments Soldier had at least two dozen raccoons flocking to his feet as he threw out the contents of the dog food bag in handfuls. The park ranger was standing attentively while Soldier had the happiest, goofiest grin on his face, arms full of one very, very well-fed raccoon.
Yeah, Demoman should be worrying about a lot of things. Though in this moment, this simple, happy moment, he couldn’t help but beam.