"God damnit, Grif!"

"What?"

"What do you mean 'what'? Sarge is going to be back any minute and he wanted us to do the decorating for Christmas!"

"So, what? It's not like we're able to do anything special in the middle of this boxed canyon with only military provisions and a couple spare bulbs."

"Just… forget it! I'm going outside." Simmons took off with his rifle in hand and went up to the roof of the base. Grif simply stayed down below inside the base and went back to doing his usual, napping and slacking off. The one thing on both their minds, doesn't he know I do this because I care? The two of them sulked in their respective spots, not giving a damn about the holiday season anymore until.

"Grif! Simmons! Both of you get down here on the double!" It was Sarge. As always Simmons was the first to report in with Grif lagging slightly behind. "Did I, or did I not, ask the both of you to decorate while I was gone?"

"Well, you see, sir…"

"Shut it, dirt bag!" Grif knew this as his normal que to shut his mouth and simply just sighed. "If had half a brain, I'd use it to blow out yours with my shotgun!"

"Okay." Sarge pointed the twelve-gage rifle in Grif's direction.

"Don't push your luck," he growled. Pulling the trigger, there was a shink and no blast. "God damnit, Grif! How many time have I told you ammo is your responsibility?" He lowered the rifle back to the ground. "Men, I have spent all morning arguing a peace treaty with those dirty rotten blues so that we may actually enjoy a holiday with them for once, and all I see here is aa base unfit for a proper Jesus birthday Christmas celebration!"

"We'll get right on it, sir!" Simmons barked giving a stiff salute.

"Kiss ass," Grif muttered.

"Then hop to it, men! On the double! They'll be here around sundown!" Sarge walked off humming a Christmas carol as he went.

Simmons looked at Grif. "Come on, we have work to do."

"No, you have work to do. Me? I have three seasons of Doctor Who I need to catch up on." Grif began to walk back inside when Simmons grabbed him by his backplate and pulled him in the opposite direction.

"Oh no you don't! You're actually going to help me today, and you're going to start by helping me find a decent tree."

Grif was somewhat startled but anxious at the same time. "Jesus, Simmons! Where did this you come from? The tall, maroon, and dominant academy?"

"What?"

"Nothing." Grif quickly shut his mouth and wriggled out of Simmons' grip so that he could walk along beside him. "Where the fuck are we going to find a tree in this damn…" Grif was inteupted when he came face to trunk with a tree that was easily fifteen feet tall.

"You were saying?"

"Shut up, Simmons. Now help me cut this down."

"I didn't bring an axe with me."

"Well I didn't bring one!"

Simmons sighed. "Guess we'll just have to force it over."

"How in the hell are we going to do that?"

"Maybe you could just use your fat ass to push it over," Simmons deadpanned.

"Fuck you, Simmons and fuck that idea. Why don't we just decorate it here?"

"What's the point in that? No one will see it!"

"Do you have any better ideas?"

Simmons sighed. "Fuck it. Let's just go back and admit our defeat."

They walked back in silence, occasionally exchanging a glance with one another. They assumed the look on the other's face was anger each time, but they both wore expressions of regret for the conversation they had. They were simply hidden beneath the golden visors of their helmets. When they got back, they were met with a sight that did piss them off. In the middle of their base sat a lit Christmas tree with a tree skirt, bulbs, and a purple star.

"What…"

"The…"

"Fuck?"

"Yeah," Caboose began, "we had a tree at blue base and decided to bring it over."

"I provided the star," Doc added triumphantly.

"Of course, he did," Grif mumbled. "I'm gonna get a drink."

"Not so fast, numb nuts!" Sarge interjected. "You two gotta kiss first."

"Wha-?" Simmons began as he looked above them. "Fuck… mistletoe."

"Mother fucker!" They both feigned their anger at the ornament.

"Oh wait! Let me get my camera!" Tucker exclaimed.

Grif and Simmons ignored it as they looked at one another. Their faced held once again, the same expression. One of longing. They both had the same feelings for one another, but now it held more of an importance as they would finally get to express it to one another.

"Okay, ready!"

Tucker began filming as they began to draw closer to one another. Not another thought crossed through their minds, anticipation building for a moment the two had only ever dreamed of. Meer inches away, their hearts raced, and their breaths grew ragged. Closer and closer they came to meet, until the destined moment…

A dull clink resounded along the walls of the base and they drew apart faster than the shot of a DMR. A blush filled both their faces. Their helmets, they forgot to remove their helmets. Everyone around them began laughing at them as they began to regret the decision in playing into the cruel prank their "friends" had played on them.

"Kiss ass…" Grif huffed.

"Moron…" Simmons shot back.

Their words may have been demeaning to the other, but they both knew the true meaning behind the words that escaped their individual lips. Maybe someday, just not today.

A/N: Just as a heads up, last line might be a spoiler for a future fic idea I'm brainstorming.

Also, way behind, we gotta play a little catch up. Next chapter: Crosshares! We're gonna write on one of the ships that I think would be the cutest from RWBY (beside Nuts-and-Dolts of course). Stay tuned.

Don't forget to leave a review. I love hearing the thoughts from all of you beautiful people!

Final note, I've decided to start a poll following the last chapter for a bonus New Years story. Details will follow soon!