A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter 30, a nice milestone to hit for a shits and giggles fic. I don't have much of an announcement here so I won't waste your time.

Paradox Effect

Summary: Dying sucked. Dying and being killed by the same teammate again? That sucked even more. Dying and being thrown back into Blood Gulch as a girl? That REALLY sucked. Now, Leona Church will have to deal with Tucker's perverted looks, Caboose's stupidity, and worst of all, Tex's laughter…

*Chapter 30*

York had managed to get drunk, if the dull headache he had was anything to go by. Beer wasn't by any means his favorite kind of alcohol to consume thanks to it having a habit of giving him terrible hangovers, but it did the job for now. "Did I ever tell you the story about the time when Massa and Tex got into an argument over who was the best kisser?"

Tucker was beyond gone at this point; at least a dozen empty brown bottles lay on the floor at his feet and he was slouched precariously in his chair. "Dude, what? Oh man you've gotta tell me this one!"

York grimaced and jerked his thumb over to the room where Tex was currently sleeping in. "Keep it down, will you? Don't wanna wake her up and have to deal with that. Besides, she still gets embarrassed about it."

Tucker made a motion of pulling a zipper shut over his mouth and the tan armored Freelancer continued with the juicy gossip that made just about everyone on the Mother of Invention blush.

"So, Massa and Tex were talking during one of our secret parties one Easter. They were both drunk as all hell and in her infinite wisdom, Tex drunkenly challenged Massa to a kiss-off. Massa was never one to back down from a challenge so she accepted after chugging a bottle of whiskey. Poor girl didn't expect what happened next." York didn't even bother containing his shiteating grin.

"Go on. Did Wash get luck and end up with two chicks?" Tucker asked eagerly.

"Nope. Tex grabbed Massa and kissed her right there in the middle of the room," York said with a laugh. "You should've seen her fucking face. I think everyone died laughing. Some of us maybe cheered." Or seethed with envy. Close enough.

"What did Massa do in response?"

"Had a nosebleed and passed out on the spot."

"Bwahahahaha!" Tucker fell from the chair with a howl of laughter. "Tex made a girl faint just by kissing her! That's fucking great!"

"Yep." York raised what was probably his twelfth bottle of beer to his mouth and took a chug. "We never let Massa live that down, either. Every chance we got, one of us constantly asked her about the time Tex slid her tongue down her throat and made her faint. She would get so embarrassed. But hey, we all had blackmail material on each other. Maine set fire to one of the kitchens by mistake trying to cook an omelet, Wash once had a grappling hook stuck to his dick, you name it. Good times. Sure we were competitive, but we always took some time to not think about it and enjoy ourselves."

Part of him missed that. Before everything went sour and everyone was divided by in-fighting and lies. The first few years of Project Freelancer were some of the best times of his life. He met great friends along the way and became more than he ever expected to be as a soldier. If he weren't currently being hunted by the UNSC for war crimes, he would have considered himself a war hero. Still it was worth it. Only just a little though. Hell, anything was better than being a petty thief robbing liquor stores in New Mombasa at three in the morning.

Tucker tried to wobble to his feet, only for his legs to give out from underneath him and he crashed facefirst into the floor. He groaned in pain and tried to glare when York let out a bark of laughter. "Fuck off, man. I'm drunk."

"No shit. That's why I'm laughing." York smirked and finished off his last beer. He couldn't drink it all before the holiday. Leona would kill him.

He helped Tucker back into the chair and the simulation trooper let his head fall back, groaning. "Man…I never would have thought that I'd be out here having beer with you."

"You say that like I'm an asshole or something." York let out a fake dramatic sigh. "I'm a damn good drinking buddy."

"You did punch me through a window," Tucker reminded with a mumble.

"You were spying on Tex and Leona about to have sex," the Freelancer shot back dryly. "And consider yourself lucky it was me who did it instead of Tex. She would have torn you in two." When she was pissed, Tex was half woman and half shark. Except the shark half had cybernetic powers and the woman half was also quarter jaguar. Yes he knew it wasn't mathematically correct. He just didn't care.

"Still hurts…"

"Oh please I didn't even hit you that hard, you baby. It was a gentle push at most."

"That's what you call a gentle push? Fucking hell I'd hate to see what happens to the guy who pisses you off." Tucker sat back up and held his head in his hands, burping. "Oh fuck…I think I'm gonna throw up."

"You know where the toilet is. Start running." York wobbly stood up and tried to blink away his hazy vision. "I'll handle the tree."

Tucker didn't have to be told twice. He stumbled out with his mouth covered and York looked at the decorations they stole from the Reds. It was in a haphazard pile on the floor and he sighed.

"Alright…time to get to work." York flexed his fingers out and pulled out the glass ornaments first, hanging them up as quickly as he could in his intoxicated state. Sure it would look like shit but again, he doubted Leona would care all that much. If anything, she'd be impressed to find out they had decorations to begin with.

With those out of the way he hung up a few other ones in spots that weren't too crowded. Once finished he took a step back to admire his handiwork. It was nice to see that he didn't completely fuck it up. 'I think this is as good as we're going to get.'

The tree wasn't even bent and one could almost ignore the, "Merry Christmas Red Team," sign that hung over it. Almost. A little blue spray paint to cross out, "Red," and replace it with, "Blue," was enough work. He utilized the standard protocol for situations like these.

Fuck it, we're lazy.

Blood Gulch holiday at its finest. Or worst, depending on one's definition. For him, it was finest.

"Your tree looks like shit."

"Oh fuck off Church."

A/N: And there ends this one. I move in about ten days so I'll see you soon I hope. Never know.

A Lovestruck A2#5371