The first year they all started working together as mercenaries, the BLU base was quiet. The first day was full of handshakes offered by the Engineer and the Pyro rather enthusiastically, and a few cold shoulders. There were, of course, a few less-than-rude-yet-sort-of-disturbingly-neutral replies. Basically, their initial meeting sort of went like this:
"Hey, pardner. Mighty fine to be able to work with 'tcha."
"Suppose so, mate."
"Nice ta meet ya, Doc."
"Where is gun?"
"Ngh."
"Vhen shall ve vegin?"
"Non."
"Hrmhm!"
"Hey, paws off, Mumble."
And that was that.
Gradually, over the months that followed, they fell into a sort of silent daily routine. It was all stiff, professional. They weren't there to be friends. In the end, it was all about the money, wasn't it? But there were a few instances in which the monotony would be broken and the members of the team would loosen up and maintain some semblance of genuine camaraderie. One of these occasions included the merry holiday of-you guessed it-Christmas.
December the 21st, just four days away from Christmas
"Oh man oh man. Guys, I'm telling ya," Scout took a bite out of his chicken leg and chewed quickly and loudly before finishing it off with an obnoxious gulp which made a few of his dining mates flinch in disgust. "My ma makes the craziest double chocolate walnut espresso cookies in all o' Boston."
"Try to say that three times fast," Soldier grumbled under his breath as he wrestled with a slab of stubborn steak.
Scout narrowed his eyes. "What'd you say, Helmet Head?" Soldier growled in reply.
Scout calmed and settled into his seat. "As I was sayin'," he said and punctuated his next few words by making small flicks with his chicken leg in the air. "They're. To. Die. For, man. Freakin' unbelievable." He grinned.
"Yeah?" Soldier challenged. "Is it really that or is it because you miss yer mommy?"
"Solly, dun't taunt tha lad," Demo shook his head.
"No, no," Scout said. "Let him finish. Ya got anythin' else, Jane?"
"That's it!" Soldier pounced on the young man and clawed at him angrily, only to be deterred by an annoyed Sniper.
"Oi! Calm down, mate!" He pushed on Solly's broad chest, grounding his heels into the floor for some support.
"Not until I kill him!" Soldier screamed while Scout burst out laughing.
"Oh not this again." Demo took a quick sip out of his flask before saying, "Solly! It's not worth it!"
At the end of the table, Spy scowled, but continued to take small, careful bites of his steak calmly, taking his time to cut it into small, bite-sized pieces before bringing them to his mouth with his fork.
"Not this shit again," he grumbled.
The scuffle had just gotten to the point where Soldier was strangling Scout with his napkin and Demoman and Sniper were trying to pull him off when Engineer and Pyro walked in.
"What in the hell are you boys doin'?"
The four mercenaries paused, and looked at the Texan incredulously, their gaze moving to stop at the figure in the gas mask next to him. When they registered Pyro's presence, they separated.
Scout coughed, and Soldier straightened, obviously flustered. "D'um, he started it."
Engie raised an eyebrow . "Riiiight. Okay, so what's for dinner tonight, Solly?"
Soldier brightened. "Deep fried protein. What else?"
Mealtime was pretty much the only time the team got to see a part of Pyro's face. Most of the team members didn't really like to stay when it was known that Pyro was around, but when he was with Dell, it was bearable. Pyro was a terrifying thing, but the team respected Dell. They were great friends, and more often than not were they seen together, sometimes taking turns playing Dell's guitar, laughing at each other's jokes (Dell seemed to have an understanding of Pyro's muffled speech), defending each other on missions, napping back-to-back, or just sitting quietly next to each other, taking everything in. The team got along well with Dell, and when he was not busy with his new schematics or whatnot, they liked hanging out with him. This would mean Pyro would be alone, and when he realized that he was, the solemn engineer would come back to keep him company.
Scout focused on his food, trying hard not to steal a glance at Pyro's face. The last time he did, he had nightmares. His cheeks were puckered with old burn scars, with some patches of strawberry red here and there on his jaw. His lips, along with the end of his nose, were for the most part, pristine. He ate at a steady pace, quietly, with large bites. He never spoke. According to Dell, this was because he felt slightly uneasy when his mask was not properly on. At the moment, Scout was just trying to stuff in as much food as he could so he could get out of there faster.
"So, Scout," Engineer started. "What were you saying before all this?"
Scout slowly smiled, pride overwhelming his fear quickly. "Well," he grinned. "I gotta tell ya 'bout my Ma's cookies. You won't ever want 'ta taste anythin' else."
Pyro eyed the calendar curiously.
Dell walked up next to him and put his hands on his hips. "Well, wouldja look at that," he smiled. "'S almost Christmas."
"Huh?"
"Well, remember when I told you about the Australian Santa Claus just last year?"
"Uh huh."
"Well, it's gonna to be his time again this year! Say, it's a pity that the other fellas can't visit their families. Darn contract." He turned to Pyro. "Do you have any family?"
Pyro just stood there, staring at the calendar. Engie nodded. "Right, right. Forget I said anything. Sorry if I hit a soft spot, there," he patted his back and before he left to go to his workshop, he said, "Hey, if it makes you feel better, your flamethrower isn't in that bad a state. I'll pro'bly have it fixed by next week."
"Hmmm," Pyro rubbed his chin, because just then, an idea started to form in his head. "Hmph cn mpmph mphmdat." I can do that.
He went to the supply closet and grabbed a pen and a notepad. He was doing to bring Christmas to Mann Co.
"You're up early," Soldier remarked when he came into the kitchen to find Pyro sitting at the island, notepad in his hand. Soldier fired up the stove and started cutting onions and slices of ham into small bits. He cooked all of their food and usually woke up at the crack of dawn to do so. He cracked a few eggs, whisking them with a little milk before adding some black pepper. He pulled out a packet of bacon from the fridge along with a jar of gravy. He always used gravy. It was a constant in all of his dishes. And even though he knew that the team was getting tired of it, he made sure he used a little more every time. It wasn't that he was a bad cook. It was just the gravy.
Pyro started taking notes, observing how at ease Soldier was, to the point where he pulled out cigarette from his waistband, and used the burner to light it before putting it in between his lips. He poured the eggs, the pan whispering in response. Ten minutes later, a steaming plate was slid in front of him.
"Dig in, Sparky," was all Soldier said. Pyro ate, but only stayed until the rest of the team came filing into the kitchen, ready to start their morning.
When Demoman wasn't drunk or blowing things up with RED Soldier, he was sleeping. In fact, he didn't even stir when Pyro came in. There he was, his cheek against the flat of his desk, a small pool of drool which reeked slightly of the scotch he'd drunk the night before. Pyro tilted his head. He felt sorry for Demoman. Every member of the team was twisted in their own way, but they all found ways to cope with their demons. Sometimes Dell would shut himself in his workshop and not come out for days. Then, when he decided it was alright to come out, he would find a sleepy Pyro sitting by his door clutching his storybook to his chest. Pyro didn't really like those days, because when Dell didn't tell him stories, he would have night terrors, and Pyro really didn't like those. So he watched Demoman, drumming his gloved fingers against his thighs and tapping his feet a bit. Demo was a nice guy. He didn't really deserve, well, this. All these broken bottles mixed with jars of explosive powder.
"I ain't no...bloody Cyclops, lad." Demo suddenly started sobbing. "I'm tha...love you...ya...yer nothing but...wee lad..."
Pyro patted his head and left.
It was already noon and Sniper was napping. Arms and ankles crossed over each other, he snored loudly against the stack of supply crates. His teeth chattered and every so often, he rubbed his arms. Pyro nodded. Sniper's gift would be simple, nothing too elaborate. He drew a small slash next to Sniper's name on the sheet. Check.
"Is there any reason for the sudden interest, monsieur?" The dryer chugged and chugged as Spy carefully hung a freshly pressed jacket on a hanger. He then picked a bit of lint on his waistcoat, and let out a puff of smoke which feathered in the air.
"Uh...,"Pyro began, "Nuh-uh."
Spy put a dress shirt on the ironing board. "Then you may watch."
For about an hour, Pyro got nothing. Sometimes Spy would hum, or pause to get another cigarette, or brush his clothes free of more lint, but he didn't do anything that indicated he cared for Pyro being there. Then, an hour and a half in, something happened.
"Six, sept, huit, neuf..." He pointed at his rack of ties and counted again. "Neuf..." He straightened and scratched his chin. "Hmmmm. Non. This cannot be."
He went to the door and went down the hall. Pyro peered from the door.
"Demo! Do you still have my tie?" He heard. "Yes, the one you borrowed from me last night for your party."
"Augh! Don't tell me. It is soiled by your tears."
"Merde...I cannot have an incomplete set!"
Before he went back to the laundry room, Pyro was gone.
"Scout! Do you have sandvich?" Heavy slammed the fridge door and eyed Scout, who was sitting on the counter, swinging his legs.
"What are ya lookin' at me, for? I ain't got your sandwich."
"Ngh," he growled, "Then where is sandvich? Doctor!"
"Vhat?"
"Where is sandvich?"
"Are you sure you didn't already eat it?"
Heavy cocked his head. "No. Who keeps taking Heavy's sandvich?"
"Ah. So ju vant examination, yes?" Medic cracked his knuckles. "I could always use anuzza patient." He opened the door wider so Pyro could enter. For one thing, the operation room was a mess. There were feathers everywhere. They were in the preservation jars, one the used syringes and scalpels-everywhere. Medic shrugged.
"Archimedes is a late molter, you see."
"Uh-huh."
"He's very restless." He clapped his hands, which were still slick with blood, together. "Well! Let's start, shall vhe?"
"Uh...mrmph gmphna mpho," Pyro said, backing away. I'm gonna go.
"Oh?" Medic frowned. "Leaving so soon?"
Pyro eyed the little red light stuck into the corner of the ceiling and stared at his distorted reflection in the small black lens.
"Hmmm," he pondered.
-
BUSY
Pyro, I'm working on your flamethrower. There are still a few parts I need to get, but I'm working on it. Be back later.
-Dell
Pyro looked dejectedly at the sign and pressed his ear to the locked door. Muffled by his mask, he could hear some loud cursing and the twang of a guitar string snapping. "Dammit dammit dammit!" He raised his fist to knock, but decided against it. There was just one more person he had to deal with. He started towards Scout's room, but then again, he didn't have to.
"PYRO!"
Pyro turned around, to hear the rapid squish-squelch of someone running in wet shoes. Scout skidded to a stop in front of him, an angry blush reddening the tips of his ears and nose. He poked him hard in the chest once before saying through gritted teeth, "You are so dead, pal."
Pyro was confused. "Huh? Whff mphm mm?" What did I do?
"Oh, no. It's what you didn't do. You didn't rake the leaves last fall and hey, look what ya caused." He pointed indignantly at his feet. Pyro looked down. Dead wet leaves were sticking to them.
"Ya see what happened?" Scout yelled. "All ya coulda done was take your stupid Back-Backscratcher or whateva ya call it and raked tha leaves like ya do every year! But no, not this year, no. It had to be tha time when I got new shoes. See, ya coulda raked instead of sitting down with ol' Hard Hat over there listenin' to those kids stories."
Pyro looked down, "Mphm mmhm," he apologized sadly.
The door to Engie's room opened. "Now, what's with all the ruckus?" Dell asked.
Scout turned. "This moron," he gesticulated at Pyro, disgusted, "cost me my shoes!"
Dell sighed, exasperated. "Scout, is that really a big deal? Do you really have to yell at the boy?"
"ARE YOU STUPID OR SOMETHIN'?"
"Hey." Now Engie looked like he was about to blow. "I'm working on something, here. Can't you just pipe down, son?"
Scout huffed, chest puffing like a bird. He gave one last scowl at Pyro before leaving. "Morons," he seethed. "I'm outta here."
Dell gave Pyro a sympathetic look before slipping back into his room.
Pyro crumpled onto the floor and buried his face into his hands.
"Awwwww," he sobbed.
The next day, the 22nd
Sniffling, sad, and most of all drained, Pyro turned in his bed and stuffed his bare face into the pillow. He didn't really want to face the day, not after having Scout mad at him or remembering that Dell hardly came to his rescue. He just felt...so alone that he didn't feel like coming out. Not after Soldier knocked on his door at breakfast or lunch. Not after Demo clinked his bottle of Scrumpy against the door. And especially not after he saw Scout on the grounds trying to angrily dislodge the already frozen pile of leaves from around the base's entrance. Pyro put his hand against the cold pane of the window. He missed the warmth his flamethrower spread whenever he used it. He always made the RED team happy when he used it, but not so much his own team. He sighed, and gave a little sniff. He stretched his arms under the pillows around him and clenched his fists. Paper crackled and he startled, pulling the crumpled sheet to his face. It was his compilation of notes. He rubbed his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, it would all work out in the end. For the next two days, he went shopping.
5:08 a.m., Christmas Eve
"Huh? What's this?" Soldier turned the green foil-wrapped box in his hands.
Pyro, with his elbows on the counter and his face in his hands, squeezed his cheeks excitedly. "Openhm!"
Soldier pointed at himself, raising an eyebrow. "For me?"
"Mhm!"
"Alright," he rumbled. "Let's see what's in here."
A minute later, he was holding an apron and a small cookbook titled A Taste for War: Baking and Whatnot for the Barracks.
"Um, um, um," he stammered, a blush making his grisly features blotchy. His helmet slid down to rest on the bridge of his nose, obscuring his expression even more. His lit cigarette hung looked like it was going to fall from his lips.
"Come here," he ordered.
"Huh?" Pyro got up, confused, and walked over to Soldier.
Soldier put a meaty hand on his shoulder and even though Pyro was sure he couldn't really see him, gazed at him with a half-smile. The clock ticked and before he knew it, Pyro was squeezed into one of the sweatiest, but most well-meaning hugs he'd ever received.
"Private!" Soldier barked, and let him go. He was smiling. "I have never in my life been given a present, not even by my own mother. Thank you." He patted his shoulder. He gave a little sniff and glanced at the apron. "I can finally do what I've wanted to do for some time, now and that is going commando while working on my cuisine!"
Pyro cocked his head to one side, not sure what to make of this. "Huh?"
"What is this?" Heavy held up the two slips of paper to his face. He squinted.
"San…sand…sandvich gif…gift….certif…icate? Also, ticket to gun show?"
Pyro nodded. Heavy scratched his head.
"So does this mean Heavy can get free sandvich?"
"Uh-huh."
"At any time? And see guns?"
"Yeah!"
Heavy grunted. "Uh…" He grinned. "So Heavy will use paper. Thank you, leetle fire man." He patted Pyro's head.
Demo was still sleeping, which was perfect, since all Pyro had to do was slip the pillow (which was his present) under his cheek and set the bottle of the hangover remedy his mom had taught him to make all those years ago next to him. Demo yawned, pressed his lips together, and clutched the pillow closer to him, and sighed, "I'm gonna git you…mum…"
"A hanger?"
Pyro shook his head and took the hooked metal triangle. He pulled a chair and hung it on a beam. Medic's doves gathered around it curiously. Pyro pointed.
"Vhat should I be seeing?"
Pyro pointed again insistently. Archimedes, all fluffed up with feathers, decided to perch on the horizontal rod. The contraption swung, and he cooed, fascinated.
"A schwing!" Medic laughed. "I should have known!" He unwrapped the second gift, which was as small as a watch box. In it was what looked like to be a red sock.
"A zock?" Medic asked, confused, examining it. "Vith slits? Vhat good is this?"
Pyro sighed, and pointed at Archimedes, who had forgotten about the bird swing and proceeded to pick at his feathers with his beak.
"Oh, okay. Archimedes!" The bird looked down and flew to rest on Medic's shoulder. "Zhere, zhere," he petted the bird. "Hopefully this vill fit and ju shall schtop fidgeting." He gave Pyro a grateful smile. "Danke, Pyro. I'm sure he will like it."
Pyro peered into Sniper's room, which was in one of the towers, and where he worked fulltime to pick members of the RED team from the grounds. He was asleep, and for this he was glad, not sleepwalking. Even though it was winter, Sniper didn't even bother to put a scarf on. Pyro took the ribbon off the cloth bundle and draped the blanket over his sleeping form.
"Dagnabit, Scout, get out of my workshop!" The Bostonian ran out of the room and past Pyro, sneering.
"Yeah, well, it's not like I needed you anyway, Overalls!"
"Huh?" Pyro said holding Engineer's present. He hurried over to Engineer's open door, but just as he got in front of it, it slammed shut.
"Hmph." He put the box on the floor, knocked on the door, and went down the hall.
Dell emerged, just as he knew he would, cursing and grumbling over whatever Scout did. He only took notice of the box because his foot had nudged it. With grimy, oil-spotted hands, he ripped the wrapping paper off and held up small teddy bear which bore a likeness to him complete with a hard hat, goggles, and its own set of overalls. He lifted his own goggles up to squint at the pack of guitar strings. After quietly absorbing the fact that for once, he was given something, he looked around the supposedly empty hall and said in a voice too low for anyone to hear, "Pyro? You there?"
"This has got to be a joke." Spy beheld the small box in the light. "If it's not a watch, then it must be…" He popped the lid off, "…a tie."
"Uh," Pyro chuckled nervously as Spy held up a silk bowtie with the red-and-white strips of a candy cane. He raised an eyebrow.
"Now this has got to be a joke."
Pyro shrugged.
"I'm sorry, monsieur, I cannot wear this…abomination," he pinched it between his fingers and held it out to him.
Pyro sighed.
Pyro held up the recipe card in front of Soldier's face.
"What's this?" He took the card and lifted his helmet up a bit to read the blocky text. "You want me to bake…this?"
Pyro nodded. "Yeah!"
"Ngh," Soldier's lip twitched up, baring his teeth, "No. No. You can't ask me to do this."
"Plm plm plmmm!" Soldier shook his head. Please please pleeeeease!
"I won't do it. If instead, you asked me to strangle him, I would, kid. I would. But I won't do this if it meant giving him the pleasure of knowing that I did it."
Pyro groaned. He was getting tired of this. Soldier gulped, sensing the tension. He took one more last long look at the card. "You know what," he conceded, "Let's do it. Just for the hell of it. But if you want this by tonight, I'll need some help." Pyro hugged him.
"Eggs, baking soda, butter, nuts…" Soldier said, ducking to see what was in the fridge. He looked over at his shoulder at Pyro. "You sneaky boy," he smiled, "You knew I would give in!" He shrugged. For the next half hour, they prepared the dough according to the instructions.
"Where did you even get that thing, anyway?" Soldier asked as he whisked in a bitter smelling liquid.
Pyro mumbled something that sounded a lot like, "I have my ways." Soldier nodded.
"Interesting." He used an ice cream scoop to plop proportionate lumps onto the greased pan.
"Aw, crap," he said as he stuck his hand out to test the air the oven. "It's not warming up like it should." He turned around when he didn't answer. "Pyro?" No one was there. He cursed and began fiddling with the dials. Just when he was sure it was fixed, Pyro came in holding Spy's lighter in front of a can of Scout's hairspray, releasing a plume of pine-scented fire into the air screaming, "HUDDAH HUDDAH HUDDAH" gleefully.
Soldier gaped. "Pyro! PYRO!" He screamed. The flame dissipated.
"But…"
"It's alright," Soldier gasped, "I got it to work."
"Aww." Pyro set the lighter and the can down.
"Twenty minutes. That's all we need, Pyro. Don't get too excited."
He checked his room. Nothing. He walked through the halls twice. Empty. He even walked around the base once. Nada. He took to the halls again and stopped. Where was Scout? A small red eye regarded him coldly. He stared at it, almost willing it to answer him. All the lens held was his beady reflection.
"Huddah," Pyro held up a small box wrapped in blue wrapping paper and bounced on his heels, waiting for a response of any kind.
"Hmph," he said, trying his best to say 'here' clearly. "Hmmmph." For a second, he swore he could hear the faint static of a microphone being plugged in. Once he realized she wasn't going to say anything (there was no mission to announce after all), he carefully unwrapped the box of chocolates and set in on the floor, making sure it was in the camera's view. In his bold, childlike writing were the words FOR YOU on the lid.
"Pyro!" Sniper called from his post. "What're ya doing?"
Since Pyro knew he really wouldn't get what he would say from that distance, he faked a run across the yard.
"Just head ova to that big mound o' snow there! Oi think Oi saw him headin' ova there five minutes ago."
Pyro squeezed his cheeks and tried to thank him.
"No problem! And hey, do you know who gave me this blanket?" Pyro shrugged and began running in the ankle-deep snow.
"Yeah, well I think you suck, too, numbskull." He lobbed a snowball at the base's sign. It was just around eight at night, so the sky was already pretty dark. "I think you're a complete moron!" He yelled, throwing another white lump. "I ask for one simple favor, one simple favor and you can't deliver." Another hit. "All I wanted was for you to fix my headset! But nooo. You've gotta take care of that bib-wearin' dope's Zippo first." Another hit. "Augh!" He threw another one. "And then Crocodile Dundee had to laugh when I slipped on the porch, and—" He paused, arm in mid-swing, and turned around to see Pyro just a few feet away from him, sniffling.
"Come on," he dropped the lump of snow, "You seriously can't be crying."
Pyro shoved the box into Scout's chest. "Oof! What's the-?" He tore open the box and held up a still-warm cookie and then proceeded to lift the lid off of the second box inside. "Hey," he looked up, immediately feeling guilty. "Pyro," he said, but he was already making his way back to the base. Scout looked at the new pair of cleats.
"Aw, shit," he said.
***
December 25th, Christmas
"He really hasn't come out his room?"
"Ja. Did something happen?"
A few knocks. "Pyro!"
"Is the lad still in there?"
"Hey, where's Heavy and Scout?"
"Don't know, Snipes. They just took off this morning. Didn't even eat breakfast."
"Huh. That's weird. They don't even get along that well."
"Oh! Ja, Heavy told me something last night."
"Yeah? What was it?"
"Um…let's not talk about it, here."
Pyro stuffed his face into his pillow once again. He didn't feel like getting up. It was only around ten, so it wasn't too late. He decided that maybe he would take this day to just sleep in.
***
8:05 p.m., December 25th
"Pyro, report to the common room immediately,"
the intercom said.
"Huh?" Pyro shot out of bed, putting on his jumpsuit and slipping on his mask. Was there some sort of emergency? Was RED trying to infiltrate the base? He clawed at his weapons rack for his flamethrower, and grunted when he realized he was just gesticulating at air. He armed himself with his ax and jogged towards the common room.
Instead, he found something more unsettling. They were all wearing sweaters. Pyro set down his ax against the wall, utterly confused. The fireplace was going, and someone was making hot chocolate. There was even a tree decorated with bright lights and blue sticky bombs along with a candle at its peak.
"Come on and sit, mate." Sniper patted the space next to him on the couch. "Or if you want, stand for the gift exchange."
"Ummm." He noticed that there was even some Christmas music playing.
"Well, come here, lad!" Demo gestured him to come closer. He had a pair of felt antlers strapped his head.
"For you, hehe," Medic stuffed a package haphazardly wrapped in (bloodstained) gauze into Pyro's arms. "It's not much, but it's something." He smiled. The bag smelled like marshmallows.
Demoman slammed his mug of eggnog down on the coffee table. "My gift next!" He hefted a box marked FLAMMABLE onto the table and said, "Just don't open it, yet. Come here." Pyro came closer. Demo pulled him so that he could whisper in his ear. "Molotov cocktails. Don't tell Heavy I used his vodka stash." He patted Pyro's back. "Our secret," he winked.
"Hey, who drank all the rum?" Soldier called from the kitchen. Demo stood up. "Well! Time for some more nog."
"Hope ya like fruit cake!"
"Eugh!" Was the collective reply.
"Oh come on, you sissies," Soldier pointed at them menacingly with a spatula. "Suck it up," he grinned.
"You'll see my gift to you outside," Sniper said. "You're in for a real treat. Demo and Engie helped me with it."
"That I did," Demo said as he poured something from a flask into his newly-filled mug. "That I did."
Engie, who'd been silent the whole time mumbled, "Yeah."
Then Heavy burst into the room, screaming, "HEAVY BROUGHT FIRECRACKERS FOR PYRO." He had a fake beard on a pointy red hat. He went to Pyro and dropped a small burlap sack in front of him. "Heavy hopes that little man will like present," he nodded. He jutted his thumb at the tree. "Soldier and Heavy brought in tree."
"Aww," Pyro squeezed his cheeks once again. He was feeling happier by the second.
"Gentlemen," Spy separated the crowd around Pyro with his hands. "I must give a real gift." Pyro noticed that he was wearing the bowtie he had given him. Spy held out a pack of sparklers and a new lighter. "For you, monsieur," he said. "It's the least I can do." Pyro took them and flicked the lighter on and off, mesmerized by the small flame.
"Hey, Pyro?" Dell inquired. The others cleared away for him. He grunted, and pulled on his collar. He wasn't really used to saying much in front of so many people, which Pyro knew. Pyro waited.
"It's not the best trinket I can give," He held out a box. "But I hope you'll like it."
The room was silent as they waited for Pyro to open the box. In it was a glossy new storybook and a pink stuffed unicorn.
"Listen," Engie rubbed the back of his head. He looked so tired. His face was dusted with soot and he smelled slightly of sweat. "I'm really so—oomph!"
Pyro wrapped his arms around him, nuzzling his shoulder with the snout of his mask.
"You forgive me?" Dell asked, surprised.
"Mhm!"
"Aw, well, shucks." Dell rubbed his back. "Sorry for shuttin' you out, pardner."
"Mmph mhm." It's okay.
"Are ya girls just gonna stand there, or are ya gonna help me out, here?" Scout kicked the door open. "Because I've got the best gift ever right here!" Everyone turned to see Scout swinging a brand new blue leafblower towards Pyro. Pyro squealed.
"Hey, Masks," Scout managed to give a little smile. "I'm reaaaallly sorry for what I said earlier. What you did for me…well…it was really nice."
"Aww," Pyro said, taking the leafblower.
"Hey! Demo!" Sniper said.
Demo blinked. "Oh! Yeah, it should be ready. Out! Out!"
Crimson blossomed in the air, followed by a vibrant green arching in the black night sky. The BLU team drank from thermoses full of hot chocolate with a few of Medic's marshmallows.
"Now, would ya look at that," Dell marveled at the fireworks. He turned to Pyro.
"Have ya ever seen something more beautiful?"
"Mm." Nope.
"Heh. It's something, isn't it?"
"Yeah!"
"You know, the team thanks you for what you did, Pyro. That was really kind of you to do that."
"Mmh mhm. Mrmhm mhm." No problem.
"What's that?"
"Mrmhm mhm."
"Yeah. Merry Christmas, Pyro."
"Hey, Pyro?" Scout plopped down next to him. Engie clapped his hand on his shoulder, gave him a look, and left.
"Mhm?"
Scout offered him a cookie from a zipped plastic bag. He took it while Scout bit into his.
"You know what, Mumble?" Scout said, staring at him as he lifted his mask to bite on the cookie. He found that he no longer cringed at the ruined tissue and was giving him a real warm, genuine smile.
"You're alright."
Next Fall
"Come on," Scout said excitedly. "Go and see if it works."
"Mm anf mm." Pyro held up a hand. Wait and see.
"Aw, fine."
Pyro pulled on the pull-start cord and the blower roared into life. Leaves flew everywhere.
"Woohoo!" Scout jumped onto a pile of leaves and looked at Pyro. "What'd I tell ya, man? What'd I tell ya. Best present or what?"
"Mhm!"