BLU Scout looked out the window of his Mom's Chevrolet. He watched the snow fall in the light of the streetlamps. The street was dark and lonely, even in the glow of the lamps.
Scout's Mom looked at her son. "Cheer up, Scout," she said, "It's almost Smissmas."
"I'm not gonna cheer up, Mom," he retorted, "I don't want to go with you on your date. I want to stay home, watch some baseball on TV."
"Now, Scout, there's only one way for you to get to like the man I'm dating and that's by actually interacting with him outside of one of your little games."
"But Ma! He's on the opposing team! He's one of those guys always stealing our briefcases, capturing our control points, and blowin' up our bases with those payload bombs!"
"Scout! I will not let you speak that way about him! Now you are going to stop saying such horrible things and show some manners towards him this evening, or I will ground you for a month! Do you understand me?"
Scout took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Ma. Just lost my temper there."
"Thank you. I forgive you. Now try to keep your temper under control for the rest of the night."
"Fine." Scout went back to looking out the window at the falling snow.
The two drove over to the valet parking. Scout's Mom handed the valet her keys. He drove the car into the parking lot as Scout and his Mom entered the restaurant. Fancy piano music echoed throughout the room alongside unintelligible chatter from the patrons. They scouted the dining room, looking for their table.
"Ma petit chou-fleur!" a voice called out. Scout looked over and saw him: the RED Spy. He was sitting at a table with two empty chairs across from him.
"Spy!" she walked over to the table with Scout in tow. She and Spy embraced and kissed.
"Ick!" Scout remarked, seeing his Mom kissing one of his enemies.
Scout's Mom looked at Spy's outfit. "Spy!" she commented, "I didn't know you were an airline pilot."
"What?" he asked. He then remembered the outfit he had on. He removed his pilot hat and jacket and put on his regular pinstripe jacket. "Sorry about that." He kissed her again.
"Ick," Scout said, seeing his mom kissing his enemy again.
Spy looked over at Scout. "Scout," he said, "Good to see you." He pulled out a seat. "Sit down." Scout looked at his mom. She motioned for Scout to sit down. He begrudgingly looked at Spy and sat down. Spy then pulled out the other chair for Scout's mom.
"Thank you," Scout's mom said.
"My pleasure," Spy smiled. He pushed in her chair and then sat down himself. Spy and Scout's Mom began observing the wine menu while Scout looked at the regular menu.
The waiter walked over. "May I get you a beverage to start off with?" he asked.
"Since it is the Smissmas season," Spy said, "we will take a bottle of Succo d'Uva Festivo."
The waiter wrote down their drink order. "And for you, young man?" he asked Scout.
"I'm just gonna stick with my beverage of choice," Scout replied. He pulled out a can of Bonk! Atomic Punch from his pocket. Scout's mom looked displeased at her son.
"Fine. Whatever," the waiter said, walking away.
"Scout," Scout's mom scolded, "You know I don't approve of you drinking that garbage. It's terrible for your health."
"On the contrary, Mom…" Scout responded, "Drinking a full can of this makes me invincible for 10 seconds."
"It's true," Spy admitted, "I have seen him chug that boisson and become untouchable."
Scout's Mom resumed her lecture, "Why can't you drink that bottle of milk I always see you caring around?"
"Because it's not milk, Ma," Scout explained, "It's a milk-like substance." He took a sip, and then realized how awkwardly he had phrased his sentence.
Scout's Mom scowled at her son. "Remind me when we get home to tie your hands to your bed before I go to sleep."
The waiter soon came by with the wine. He poured a glass for Spy and Scout's Ma. The two toasted. "To us," he said.
"To us!" Scout's Mom replied. She turned to Scout. "Toast with us," she insisted. Scout groaned and begrudgingly toasted with his can of Bonk! Atomic Punch. They each took a sip of their respective drinks.
"Whoa, that's some strong caffeine!" Scout commented, "I'll be right back, Ma." He ran off to the restroom.
Scout's Mom sighed. Spy saw his love upset. "What's the matter, ma petite chou-fleur?"
"I don't think Scout's growing on you. He still seems so hostile towards you."
"I'm fine with it. I deal with people who hate me even more on a daily basis. His friends, Dell and Mr. Mundee, in particular, hate me."
"I really want Scout to like you."
"I would love for him to like me, too. I am sure he will come to approve of me eventually. But we cannot force him to like me; we have to let him like me on his own."
"I suppose you're right."
Scout soon returned from the restroom. "Woo! Can't believe I had that much in me."
"Caffeine will do that to you," his mom commented.
Scout grabbed the waiter's attention. "Hey, garcon! Could I get a cuppa water over here?"
"Say 'please', Scout."
"Fine… Could I please get a cuppa water over here?" The waiter nodded and walked away.
"You really shouldn't call the waiter 'garcon'," Spy pointed out, "It's an informal term for 'boy.' You are essentially demeaning him by calling him that."
"Sorry. I'll refrain from doing that again." The waiter brought over a glass of water and placed it in front of Scout.
Trying to introduce a topic of conversation, Scout's Mom said, "Had you heard that Scout was a milkman this summer?"
"Oh, no…" Scout moaned.
His mom continued. "He went around delivering milk to people, and he wore an adorable hat and blue vest!"
"Ah, yes," Spy said, "I think I have seen it. He brought it to a few fights. He covered me with milk when I was invisible, blowing my cover. Then he'd hit me with a dead fish."
Scout's Mom looked at her son. "Is this true?!"
Scout sighed, "Yeah, it's true, Ma." He then chuckled. "It's also kinda funny."
"Well, I don't see anything funny about hitting people with dead fish!" Spy even chuckled when she described it like that.
"I didn't figure that was actually your profession for the summer," Spy said, "I figured it was just like the pilot outfit I was wearing earlier, purely cosmetic. Similar to how Pyro pretends to be a gas station attendant or fast food employee."
"Speakin' of food, when's the waiter going to take our order?"
"While we wait…" Spy said, taking out his pack of cigarettes. "Want one?" he asked Scout's Mom.
"No, but thank you." Spy took out a cigarette and lit it with the candle on the table.
"Thank God for the smoking section." He took a puff.
The waiter came back with an order pad. "Have you decided what you would like to order?" he asked.
Spy opened up the menu. "I would like a Filet of Beef Bourguignon, if I may."
Scout's Mom looked at the same entrée. "Make that two, please," she said.
The waiter wrote their orders down. "And for you, young man?"
"I'll take a hot dog," Scout said.
The waiter looked at Scout in annoyance. "We are a fine-dining establishment, with four-stars. We cater to individuals whose weekly paychecks are more than the average man's life saving. We pick only chefs who have doctorates in cooking. We do not sell hot dogs."
"Okay, fine. No need to be so rude about it." Scout quickly looked over the menu. "Okay. I'll take an order of Italian sausage."
"A fine choice."
"And could you do me a favor?"
"What would you like?"
"May I please have you put the sausage on slices of garlic bread?"
"Yes, we can do that." The waiter wrote this down.
"And one more thing…"
"Yes?"
"May you please put tomato sauce on top?"
The waiter wrote it down and then realized what Scout was ordering. He looked at Scout angrily. "I hate you," he said to Scout. As he walked away, Scout smiled smugly.
Scout's Mom looked at Spy. "So, Spy," she asked, "what have you been up to lately?"
"Oh, nothing much," the charming Frenchman replied, "Just a bit of backstabbing, sapping, and shooting. Just the typical spy work."
"How interesting!" Scout's Ma said legitimately.
"Yeah. Interesting," Scout sarcastically scoffed.
"Have you gotten any new weapons lately?" Scout's Mom asked.
"Sadly, no," Spy replied, "The last weapon I received was a monstrous loaf of bread that I now use to dismantle sentries and dispensers, which I received two years ago. Over the past few years, we've been getting pretty much nothing but clothing."
"Yeah," Scout added, "I love me a new hat as much as the next guy, but I really could use a new weapon, not just something painted and scratched-up."
"Finally!" Scout's Mom said, "Something for you two to talk about!" Spy and Scout both went quiet.
The awkward silence endured until the food arrived. "Filet of Beef Bourguignon each for the loving couple," the waiter said, putting down their plates. He walked over to Scout. "And sausage on garlic bread with tomato sauce for you," he begrudgingly said.
"Thank you," Scout said. His Mom picked up her utensils. Spy flipped his utensils through his fingers, ending with them in prime eating positions. Scout's Mom lightly applauded his trick. "Show-off," Scout muttered. Though his makeshift hot dog required no utensils, he picked up his knife and tried to mimic Spy's trick. Instead, he wound up getting a minor cut on his finger.
"Scout!" his Mom reprimanded, "Be careful!"
"Sorry, Ma…" Scout ripped off a piece of his hand bandages and wrapped it around his finger. He picked up the garlic bread slice and folded it around the sausage link. He took a bite out of it, making sure to get some tomato sauce. Spy and Scout's Ma took small slices out of their filets, making sure to soak them in the delicious sauce before eating them. Scout finished his entrée much faster than his Mom and Spy finished theirs.
When they were all done with their entrées, Scout's Mom stood up. "I think I need to go 'powder my nose.' I'll see you two in a bit." She pushed in her chair. "Before I go…" She stuck out her hands." Give me your guns." Spy took out his revolver and Scout took out his pistol. They put their handguns into her hands. "I don't want you two to kill each other while I'm not here to mediate you two." She put the guns into her purse and walked away.
Spy took a look at the wine menu while waiting for his date to return. As he skimmed through the selection, he looked over at Scout. He was glaring hatefully at Spy. "What's the matter with you?" Spy asked.
"You know damn well what's wrong!" Scout said, making his voice serious but not loud enough for the other patrons to hear, "It's not bad enough I gotta deal with you on the battlefield, but now I gotta deal with you in my personal life! I could be at home, watchin' baseball, getting ready for Smissmas morning. But no! Ma has to drag me to this crappy restaurant where they don't even serve hot dogs so she can be with her boyfriend, who tries to kill me and my team constantly!"
"Scout, listen…" Spy tried to calmly explain.
"No, you listen! I have had it with you! You've been a thorn in my side ever since the day we met! All you do is disguise yourself as our teammates, making us trust you. And then you go and stick a knife or an icicle in our backs! And if we catch ya before that, you shoot us in the head with your little handgun! When we try to go on the defensive, you kill our Medics and dismantle our sentries! And let's not forget about your little pocket watch that makes it look like we killed ya, but instead makes ya invisible! You are the worst person I've ever met in my life, and I can't believe my Ma has the hots for you!"
Spy sighed. He then said, "You're right. I do kill your teammates, as well as you on occasion. I dismantle your sentries. I fake my death. But do you know why I do it? It's because I want my team to win as much as your team wants to win. If it were not a matter of winning and losing, I would have no interest in doing those things. Do you bat your opponents' skulls in for fun or to help your team win?"
Spy's question really hit Scout. "Well," he replied, "When you put it like that…"
"And that's not all," Spy continued, "On your team, you have the power to move the cart and capture control points twice as fast as your teammates. You can outrun sentries with your Atomic Punch. You can jump in mid-air, multiple times with your Soda Popper or Winger. You can stun your opponents with your baseball."
Scout replied, "Yeah, I'm pretty cool…"
"What I do is also important to my team. It's an incredibly dangerous job. Having to quickly disable sentries and stabbing the Engineer who built them. Needing to dodge Pyros on a burning spree. Having to find a place to hide while my watches recharge. Needing to prevent bumping into opponents. I have Snipers throw their urine at me, and I need to wash it off right away. It's an incredibly tricky job to do. And what thanks do I get? My own team doesn't trust me. If I approach the engineer's dispenser to recharge, he begins to hit me with his wrench. If a Pyro sees me, it tries to burn me. I can't get Medics to heal me, and when they do, they blow my cover. I have the hardest job of any merc, and I get no thanks for it." Spy sighed sadly.
Scout looked at Spy. "Gosh, Spy, I never knew that's how y'felt. I always thought you were this cocky show-off who was so self-absorbed." Spy bit his tongue at that comment. "I never knew that's how you felt." He then thought, "I wonder if that's how our Spy feels…" He looked over at Spy again. "Hey, cheer up. It's almost Smissmas."
Spy smiled. "I do love Smissmas. It's my favorite holiday."
"Mine too!" Both of their faces brightened up. "Hey, check out what I got…" Scout reached into his backpack and pulled out a baseball bat covered in Smissmas lights.
"Ooh," Spy commented, "c'est magnifique!" Spy then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a butterfly knife, also decorated in Smissmas lights.
"Dude, that's sick!" Scout looked at the knife. "So does that thing actually close with all those lights on it?"
Spy folded the knife back up. "With relative ease."
Spy and Scout continued to discuss Smissmas and festive weapons until Scout's Ma came back from the bathroom. "Boy," she said, "I really needed to 'powder my nose.' How are you two doing?"
"Great, Ma," Scout said, "We were just talking about how much we love Smissmas!"
"Well, I'm glad to see you two have found something that you both enjoy and can talk about." She sat back down.
The waiter came over to them. He had a small plate with him. "As a little Smissmas eve present for the couple, we got you a peppermint cheesecake." He set the plate down in front of the three of them. It was an adorable slice of cheesecake with little specks of red and white sprinkled in. The scent of peppermint was strong and hit their nostrils like a freight train. The waiter gave a fork to Spy, then one to Scout's Ma. As he was handing Scout his fork, he flung it to the side. "Oops," he sarcastically commented. Scout was annoyed with this waiter. He had to resist the urge to hit him with his festive bat. The waiter walked away.
Scout's Ma handed Scout her fork. "I'm still stuffed from my entrée," she said, "You can have it."
"Really, Ma?" Scout happily asked, "You mean it?"
"Go ahead."
Scout and Spy ate the peppermint cheesecake. It tasted like candy cane and felt like snow. They had never had anything so amazingly delicious on Smissmas Eve. It was so delicious that even the plate was clean by the time they were done. Not a crumb or a speck of peppermint remained.
"That was fantastic," Scout replied.
"Oui," Spy agreed. He checked his watch. "It's getting late," he commented, "We had better get going." He called for the waiter to bring over the check. Spy paid for all of the meal, using money he had acquired from fighting robots. The three got up and went to the exit.
Outside in the snow, Scout's Ma said, "I had a wonderful time this evening."
"So did I," Spy commented. The two hugged. They gave each other a quick kiss. "I look forward to our next rendezvous. Bonne nuit. Et joyeux Noël."
"Good night, Spy," she replied, "And Merry Smissmas to you, too." Scout and his mom began walking towards their car.
Back at their home, Scout went up to his room. He sat down on his bed and turned on the TV. He then looked over at the phone by his bed. Reminded of what RED Spy had said to him earlier, he dialed up BLU Spy.
"Bonjour," said BLU Spy's voice on the other end, "I am unable to take your call right now, so please leave a message after the beep."
After the beep, Scout said "Hey, Spy. It's Scout. I know that we don't talk a lot, but I just wanted to say that I'm really grateful for everything that you've done for our team. I don't think you get the recognition you deserve for helpin' our team. So thanks for all the sentries you've disabled, all the enemies you've backstabbed, and everything you've done for us." Scout paused, wondering how to end the call. "And Merry Smissmas," he ended, "Merry Smissmas to us all…"