At first glance it didn't really look like Christmas; at least, not the Christmas you see on TV specials, movies, and on the front of Christmas cards.
In the place of snow there was sparse grass and desert sand. In the place of pines, lightly dusted with frost, there were towering rock formations.
But if you looked closer, the signs of the season would start to become noticeable in Radiator Springs. Instead of the normal country music, Flo's cafe was playing traditional Christmas tunes. Lizzie's store had signs advertising her massive selection of holiday greeting cards, her radio also playing Christmas music. She also offered license plate frames in the shape of holly for the particularly festive automobile. Ramone had opted to decorate himself rather than his store. Decked in red, green, white and gold - whether he looked adorably festive or horribly tacky was a matter of opinion.
By far the most noticeable Christmas decoration was the Christmas tree of tires erected by Luigi and Guido. Wrapped entirely in twinkling lights and topped with a star, the two had argued as to whether the lights should be gold or white. They had compromised, and the results were stunning - spirals of gold and white crawled to the tip of the cone-like formation of tires.
The town was bustling with activity; shoppers were rushing to buy gifts for their loved ones. The residents couldn't remember the last time it had been so busy, and the extra money was a welcome Christmas present.
After the shops had closed, everyone retired for a well deserved break at Flo's. The sky was clear, the stars were shining, and spirits were high. Doc and the Sheriff were laughing over some private joke, Sarge and Fillmore were parked together, sipping on some of Flo's eggnog flavoured fuel, and Mack and Red were chatting about something. The two of them had become fast friends since Mack had moved to town, so that he could keep transporting Lightning (who was sharing a drink with Sally) to and from races.
Presently, Mater rolled up, smiling mischievously. He parked with a squeak of his brakes next to McQueen, who smiled in greeting. Mater grinned back wordlessly. Lightning was instantly suspicious, his smile changing to a smirk.
"What are you up to, Mater?" he asked.
Mater responded by wiggling his eyebrows, and nothing more. Lightning looked a little worried. Mater gestured with his eyes towards Sarge and Fillmore, and his best friend followed his gaze.
He chuckled quietly. Fillmore was awfully close to Sarge. It was hard to tell, but it looked like they might be touching hubcaps. Sarge was trying not to draw attention to himself, nonchalantly sipping at his drink, his eyes on the ground. Fillmore was trying to lean closer, but at the same time, he, like Sarge, didn't want to draw attention to the two of them, if only for the sake of the Jeep.
Lightning turned back to Mater, wondering why this was such a big deal. Anyone who had spent any amount of time in Radiator Springs was at least a little suspicious that Sarge and Fillmore may be more than just friends, but no one really said anything, and Sarge avoided the subject like the plague.
Lightning's smile faded to a look of disbelief when Mater's plan became evident. He had picked up some mistletoe from his back that he had been hiding, and was now dangling it on his hook. He giggled with a slight snort and with an expert toss (Lightning hissed "Mater, no!", but it was too late) it landed on the roof above Sarge and Fillmore, clearly visible.
Lightning felt his oil run cold. He knew Mater was only teasing, and probably couldn't understand why this was such a big deal. Everyone in town knew about Sarge and Fillmore. What Mater failed to grasp, however, was the only one left in town who hadn't come to terms with it was Sarge himself. Perhaps the tow truck was too simple, perhaps he had never really gotten into it; it was hard to tell. The fact remained that he simply didn't see the seriousness of what he had just done.
Sarge was always alert, unlike his friend. His eyes travelled up towards the mistletoe and widened, then he looked at Mater in indignant disbelief. Mater still didn't get it. He wiggled his eyebrows again, trying to get Sarge to lighten up.
Everyone else continued to chat, Doc and the Sheriff being the only others that noticed. Doc chuckled slightly, the Sheriff's brow furrowed in a worried expression. Sarge's eyes immediately flew to Doc, his mouth hanging open slightly, then they flickered back the Mater. Fillmore still hadn't noticed, his eyes almost closed, leaning ever closer to Sarge, making the situation all the more embarassing for the veteran.
"Awww, c'mon Sarge, plant a big ol' wet one on 'im, it's Christmas!" Mater grinned.
Fillmore opened his eyes a little at Mater's words, and looked to Sarge, vague confusion written on his features. Did he just hear what he thought he heard?
He waited with bated breath for Sarge to do something.
Sarge finally regained himself, and scowled at Mater, curling his lip in disgust.
"Very funny," he spat, moving himself away from Fillmore's attempted snuggles. Fillmore looked hurt, but not surprised in the least.
Mater still didn't get it, even though McQueen was nudging him and looking panicked, and even Doc has stopped laughing.
"Awww, c'mon, everyone saw you two with yer hubcaps together, no need to fret over it!" he was still grinning, and winked. Lightning gave him a particularly rough nudge, and Mater looked over to him, confused.
"What?"
Lightning was silent. So was everyone else. Mater looked to Sarge and his face fell, finally realizing the mistake he had made. Sarge's eyes were wide and his mouth was open slightly, like he wanted to say a million things but couldn't get a single one of them out. Fillmore had backed up slightly, and was looking at him with a worried expression. McQueen wasn't sure, but it looked like he might have tears in his eyes.
Everyone who was around had stopped what they were doing to stare, wondering what Sarge was going to do. His eyes darted around, and he opened and closed his mouth again. At a loss for words and more embarassed than he had ever been, he backed up, turned around - tires squealing - and was gone before anyone had a chance to say anything.
Everyone's eyes turned to Fillmore, who was standing there looking stunned (but still not even remotely surprised). Mater approached him, his expression miserable.
"Gee, Fillmore, I didn't mean to cause such a fuss..."
Fillmore smiled sadly.
"Hey, it's okay, man, no harm done. That's just the way he is."
"You sure?"
"Totally," he smiled even more to show he meant it. "No use getting uptight about it."
Mater allowed himself a small smile and nodded.
The rest of the evening went by uneventfully. Sarge never came back, and the rest of them got back to chatting. Once in a while someone would cast Fillmore a pitying look, but he didn't seem all that sad, and if he noticed, he just offered a smile. They soon stopped worrying.
Incidents like this has happened before. Granted, they were never quite as serious - but most everyone in the town knew about Sarge and Fillmore, and most everyone also knew that Sarge wasn't about to admit anything. So it was soon pushed to the back of everyone's mind as their thoughts wandered back to Christmas time and all the things that go along with it. By midnight everyone had drifted off to bed; Fillmore was the last.
Christmas morning came and went, not much different than the Christmases before it. All the shops were closed, and the town was quiet. The residents exchanged gifts, taking advantage of the day off to get some much needed rest. A general feeling of happiness was with everyone. Those who were usually quiet were a little louder today, those who were usually grumpy a little more easygoing.
Around noon, if anyone was outside to look, they would have seen Sarge puttering around outside of Fillmore's door. Fillmore had already given Sarge his gift; he had brewed a special batch of organic fuel mixed with automotive yoghurt for Sarge - specially designed to help lower his high RPMs and relieve stress.
Sarge, on other hand, hadn't given Fillmore any sort of gift. Fillmore hadn't said anything; it wasn't in him to nag about that kind of thing, but he had certainly noticed. Sarge seemed more uptight than normal all day, unlike everyone else, who was enjoying the holiday. He didn't speak to anyone much all day.
He had thought about what he was going to get Fillmore for ages. Through October, November, and December, he had thought about it. But nothing seemed right. There was no way he was going to buy him any damn hippie crap; but on the other hand, what else would interest him? Fillmore was mostly content, and never seemed to want any material possesions other than what he already had. Sarge could not think of one thing, throughout those three months, that Fillmore would want.
He had felt terrible, not being able to give Fillmore anything. But it had struck him, on Christmas eve night, after the incident at Flo's, what the perfect gift for his friend would be.
He knew that early morning was not the best time for him to give Fillmore his gift, everyone would be too busy, then. But it needed to be a surprise. So, however horrible he felt, he kept it a secret and let on that he had no gift for Fillmore on Christmas morning.
Now that it was noon, and everyone was done exchanging gifts and talking about said gifts, most of the townsfolk had gone home. Fillmore had gone into his dome about an hour ago, and Sarge had finally worked up the courage to pay him a visit.
He entered quietly through the beaded doorway. Fillmore had no doorbell nor any way to announce one's entering, and Sarge was accustomed to entering unannounced.
The lights inside were dim, and immediatley Sarge was overwhelmed by a certain skunky smell. He backed up slightly and was half out the door when he remembered how important giving this gift was to Fillmore. No matter what he was ... uh, doing, Sarge wanted him to have this, and he wanted to do it right.
Getting past the smell, his eyes adjusted to the dim light (he noticed now that the inside of the dome was lit by a lava lamp). His engine made far too much noise for him to come in unnoticed, Fillmore must know he was here. The dome was seperated into two rooms by a curtain. Fillmore wasn't in the first room, so he made his way to the second, pushing past the curtain.
Fillmore was half-leaning against the wall of the dome. The smell was stronger in here, and smoke hung around the ceiling. Sarge coughed a little, but it wasn't something he wasn't used to running into every now and again. Fillmore raised a tire in greeting, eyelids hooded. He looked like he had just been dozing off, new-age ambient music was playing in the background, the lights were dim... stupid hippie. He offered Sarge a big smile and stood up a little.
"Hey Sarge, what brings you here?" he asked dopily.
Sarge just stared at him for a moment. Usually, when Fillmore was stoned, Sarge stayed away from him. Not that Fillmore acted all that much different, Sarge just didn't want to be around... that kind of thing. But it was now or never... besides, it might be interesting. And anyway, who was there to see?
"I came to give you your Christmas present," answered Sarge, a bit stiffly.
Fillmore squinted a smile and said nothing, waiting. A few moments passed, Fillmore waiting patiently, until Sarge worked up the nerve and moved towards him quickly, planting a gentle kiss on his lips.
Fillmore's eyes widened slightly in surprise. One moment he had been sitting in a purple haze, listening contently to Sarge's voice, the next, there was a familiar warmth pressed against his lips that spread through his whole body. He found himself backing up slightly, out of habit, waiting for Sarge's kiss to become rough, as it always did. But it didn't happen, Sarge just continued to kiss him gently. For a few moments Fillmore failed to kiss him back, such was his surprise. His axles got weak, and he felt his back end hit the ground. He righted himself, swaying slightly, and started to return Sarge's kisses again.
Then, the contact was broken, Fillmore smiling from headlight to headlight, Sarge smiling with his eyes and nothing more.
"Was that my gift?" Fillmore asked, clearly impressed by Sarge's thoughtfulness.
Sarge was out of his element. For a long time he said nothing.
"I... I just couldn't think of anything to give you," he tried to explain, lamely. "I thought of so many different things, but you didn't need anything, and you didn't seem to want anything." His voice was rigid, as if he had forgotten, or never learned, how to speak softly. Someone who didn't know him well might think that he was nothing but a bad actor. But Fillmore knew him well; probably better than anyone, and he knew how unusually honest he was being. He let him speak, waiting when he paused for a long time, not saying a word when he stumbled over what he was trying to say.
"And," he continued "and I couldn't think of anything that you would want, that I could give you. But last night I was thinking..." he stopped, looking at the ground. Fillmore was reminded of watching a nervous person give a speech to a huge crowd. Sarge scuffed a tire on the ground and sighed. "... and I thought, there is one thing I could give you, er, kind of..." he faltered again, then looked at Fillmore pleadingly, as if he was silently begging him to be able to understand what he was trying to say without him having to say more.
Fillmore wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily, though. He knew what Sarge meant - and he couldn't be happier - but he wanted to make him say it. It was always interesting to watch him during moments like this. It was like he was learning to talk again, every time he had to have a conversation that didn't involve being either loud or gruff and to the point.
"Go on," he urged, almost smirking.
Sarge sighed again. "Well, I just wanted to tell you, that I'm..." a long pause, "I'm really sorry for the way I treated you, um, on Christmas eve. We've been friends for years..."
Fillmore gave him a meaningful look.
"Okay, well, more than friends for years," (Fillmore grinned) "and I shouldn't treat you the way I did. So I wanted to make up for the kiss I didn't give you."
Fillmore listened to Sarge talk through the haze, his voice like a pleasant song, and his lips far, far too far away. He let him talk more, slowly moving closer and closer, wanting that warmth back. He heard him speaking in a voice softer than he had ever heard him use before, and he couldn't stay away any longer, his wheels moved themselves.
"And, well, really, I just wanted to let you know that I really do c-"
He stopped short as Fillmore nuzzled his nose against his, eyes closed. Sarge kissed him again, and Fillmore kissed him back, nibbling gently and playfully at his front bumper. Sarge allowed himself a quiet laugh and lifted a front wheel, placing it on Fillmore's side and pulling him into a careful hug. Fillmore's engine purred to life and gave a slight hiccup, his whole frame trembling.
They had kissed so many times before, but it was like they were sharing their first moment together. This was something new, and he and Sarge were finally on the same level.
Fillmore blissfully thought this was the best Christmas ever... Sarge worried that Fillmore wouldn't remember this in the morning.
Usually, when they shared a kiss, Sarge was rough, almost forceful, and Fillmore often had to have a few dents worked out in the morning. But instead of Fillmore being backed into a corner, he and Sarge shared the same space as if they belonged together, each matching the kiss of the other, the tables perfectly balanced.
Sarge pulled away for a moment to look at Fillmore. The VW bus opened his eyes slowly, smiling euphorically at him. He then moved to Sarge's side, and, nestling himself close to the ground, gave his front wheel a kiss. Sarge laughed again, softly. His laugh changed to a sigh when Fillmore kissed the centre of his wheel again, this time a lot more slowly, and did Sarge feel a little tongue?
Both of them chuckled, their engines purring, Sarge's loud and rough, Fillmore's a lower, slower grumble.
Fillmore stumbled to the side a little bit, and Sarge smiled and rolled his eyes. He positioned himself next to Fillmore and guided him to the wall, pushing against him slowly until he was leaning against the side slightly. Sarge, in turn, leaned on him, snuggling close. He curled his antennae around Fillmore's rear-view mirror and held on.
Fillmore closed his eyes, letting his mind float. The blanket of light from his lamp and the lights outside created a perfect glow that matched how he felt. He slid one wheel sideways and pushed it against Sarge's. Sarge pushed back, and Fillmore felt so pleasantly warm and safe he thought he might have floated off the face of the planet and ended up somewhere better than earth.
"Sarge..."
"Yes?"
"If you stay much longer, everyone will notice," Fillmore slurred.
There was a pause.
"I really don't care, hippie."
Fillmore's headlight-reaching smile returned.
"I really love the present, man."
"It was nothing."
Whether it was the lack of sleep Sarge had gotten last night, the pleasant sensation of Fillmore next to him, or the smoke hanging in the air, Sarge felt his eyelids drooping. With a creak he let himsef lean fully against Fillmore, whose body easily supported him. He listened to his closest friend breathing until it became slow and steady, like that of someone sleeping, and he soon followed him.
The both of them woke just after sunset, within moments of one another. Fillmore asked if Sarge wanted to go out and look at the Christmas lights before they were taken down, and Sarge obliged.
The two of them exited, Sarge first, Fillmore moments after, and they took their places on the road, driving so close together they were almost touching. Sarge noticed Mater, Fillmore's expression changing to one of worry. Sarge just smiled and nuzzled Fillmore.
"No need to be so uptight about it," Sarge teased.