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Frigid wind had blown Henri off his balance more than a few times by now, though not enough for him to lose the cigarette chewed nearly to a nub between his lips or the gift in his arms. It hardly snowed in this place, leaving peaceful silence and chilly nights as the only aspects of holiday joy for the BLU to hold onto. He’d never hated solitude so much. This was nothing like his last winter in the Badlands, much more bitter and shrouded in unforgiving loneliness.
Loneliness was a tricky subject for him. After all, it was in his nature to work alone, travel alone, do everything alone lest he put those around him at risk. His Engineer had changed that, swept him away into the clutches of naivety and promised him a fairytale that would never come to be. When their relationship abruptly ended by the Texan’s call, he’d left Henri with a new, dreaded emptiness, heightened by the memories of their last Christmas together. Many months ago, he’d special ordered a bottle of the BLU Engineer’s favorite whiskey- which he’d sworn up and down was the best he’d ever had- and wrapped it up for the season of giving. Now, Henri clutched it to his coat with no one to gift it to.
He was starting to consider Demoman, wooing him over with yet another bottle of alcohol to drown his sorrows into a one night affair and really sticking it to the man he once loved; after all, he would be the most likely mercenary to appreciate such a gift. Then again, he was probably getting drunk and wooed by their Soldier by now, mere hours before the clock would strike twelve and Christmas was upon them. He hardly considered Sniper, the man was too busy wallowing in his sorrows and regretting taking a job so far from his parents on such a festive night. Medic and Heavy.. truly, Henri didn’t want to know. And so he stayed alone, defying the wind’s lashings and his own desire to curl up on his sofa by the fire. It hardly seemed to be worth it now.
Lost in a maze of thoughts, the world around him seemed distant- which was, of course, terrible behavior for a Spy, trained to keep his guard up at all times. Instead he allowed the wailing winds to drown out the sounds surrounding him, the celebration inside the fortress that he was careful to avoid, and his unfocused eyes to ignore the invisible footsteps marking the snow in front of him.
“Tu as besoin d’une cigarette?” The voice before him murmured, first a hand in red haze before the rest of the other Spy’s body formed. He didn’t wait for a response, lifting the BLU’s eyes just enough to see the dismay in them before tracing his frigid cheek with a knitted glove and tossing the remains of his old cigarette to replace it in one swift motion. “It is too cold, what are you doing out here?”
“Je peux dire la même chose à toi..” Even if he didn’t express it, Henri appreciated the gesture, though he remained wary of his enemy’s motive. “Shouldn’t you be with your team?”
Antoine didn’t seem as cautious, simply shrugging the idea off with a snort. “They couldn’t even set up the tree… some fools they are. What about you?” He glanced down at the wrapped bottle, surveying it for a moment but unable to conclude who it was meant for. “I see you have a gift. Am I interrupting something, mon bleu?”
Henri could only offer a weak laugh, both at himself and the irony. “Hardly.. It’s of no use to me now.” The glass trembled as he lifted it, almost as if to offer it up. “I have no one to give it to.”
The BLU, once again wearing his despair in a sour expression he failed to muffle with his scarf, clearly wasn’t ready to unpack his reasoning; that didn’t stop his counterpart from gladly accepting the offer. “Perhaps I could have it, then?” Without thinking, his gloves intertwined with the other’s on the neck of the bottle, frozen there for a moment before Henri timidly recoiled and forfeited the present. “Bon.” As he began to peel the paper away, he curiously offered it back. “Would you like to share it?”
Henri was tempted, truly too distracted to weigh the consequences before he’d already agreed with an eager nod. Taking one of Antoine’s much warmer gloves into his own, he led them into the BLU fortress- careful to avoid his foolish team’s festivities- and towards his own room. It was easy to avoid everything loud: Pyro and that dreaded Engineer singing old Christmas songs, Soldier arguing with Scout about Santa, and Demoman caught somewhere in between both of them. Truthfully, none of it would appeal to him even if he wasn’t firmly avoiding the team’s Texan.
He still held onto doubts, when it finally struck him that he was letting his opposite enemy into his very own sanctuary and peace of mind. His free hand hovered over the doorknob, slowly grabbing it but not quite twisting it open until the RED reassured him by squeezing their locked hands. It was clear, despite the risks, that he needed this. He’d only celebrated Christmas with his adversaries- targets he’d soon bring an end to- before his time in the Badlands; he couldn’t explain why he needed this. But he did.
The enemy Spy wasted no time in making himself at home; after all, his counterpart’s decor was not so different from his own. It was refreshing to find someone else so refined surrounded by some of the most unkempt men he’d ever met. By the time Henri reached the sofa Antoine had already settled in with the BLU’s throw blanket and a glass of his prize, swirling it impatiently as he waited for the other to drink. “Viens ici, assieds toi.”
“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Henri smirked, not as annoyed as he’d let on. His enemy was already greater company than he could ask for, despite being the last man he expected to care as much. He huddled close for warmth, sinking into the RED’s shoulder; he’d once lamented the fact that he was only slightly shorter than his counterpart. It didn’t seem to matter now. Following the other’s cue, Henri lifted his own glass to his mouth, before bitterly defying the taste with pursed lips.
“Bas de gamme!” The RED filled the silence with the same thought, shaking his head in dramatic disapproval as he looked over the glass with disgust. “Who did you bother buying this for?!”
“It doesn’t matter now,” the BLU stood abruptly, snatching the bottle to gloss over it again before turning his attention to the window overlooking the courtyard. “I’m through with him.” He didn’t give his counterpart time to stop him from tossing the bottle, not that he expected him to. Evidently, both of them were too good for bottom of the barrel whiskey; it was time to move on to what they really deserved. He placed his gloves neatly on his desk, halfheartedly peeling off his jacket as he crossed the room towards his wine rack with his sights set on the most expensive bottle.
Antoine shifted back and forth across the sofa to watch Henri’s spectacle in awe, amused and somewhat impressed by his change of heart- though, he couldn’t help wanting the BLU by his side again in the process. “Je suis ravi.. You have much better taste than the benêt you speak of.”
“Oh, please..” Henri barely considered his response, instead focusing on the risk he prepared to take. He crept over silently- likely to go unnoticed by anyone else, but not by the man trained to do the same. Yet the RED allowed it, sinking further into the cushions as the BLU reappeared in his lap. “You flatter me.”
The enemy’s eyes glossed over the words on the bottle, notably excited by the words “vieux” and “extravagant” etched into the wrapper. He recognized the brand well, and knew it was much more fitting for two men as lavish as them. Tossing his own gloves to the side, the RED’s hands traveled up to the other’s shoulders to massage them as Henri began unbuttoning his coat.
With a smile warmer than the fire, Antoine watched the BLU’s expressions shift from his previous misery to the beginnings of anticipation. He was no less curious, with one of his hands inching closer to Henri’s mask to tug at it experimentally.
“Tu es trop avide,” the other Spy hissed, only to lean back and tug his own mask off in one effortless motion. “C’est ce que tu as voulu?”
“Non,” The RED couldn’t prevent his laughter, taken aback by Henri’s forwardness and, even more, his striking resemblance; he’d been humbled, to find someone as gorgeous as himself here of all places. “..plus que ce que j'aurais pu imaginer.” He was even more fascinated by their discrepancies, the BLU’s much darker hair that instead formed the prettiest curls, albeit flattened by the absence of his mask, and his icy blue eyes that glowed even more with no disguise to hide behind. He felt rather obligated to return the favor, flustered and scrambling to rid himself of his own cover in the name of fairness. It was far too risky for both of them to be here, intertwined, exposed, combing their fingers through each other’s hair and staring in awe; but for the moment they were far from spies, just two men happily confined to each other’s company on a lonely wintry night.
His doting enemy was the best gift Henri would receive this year.
The BLU dove in for a kiss first, unsuccessfully concealing his desperation with gentleness. He couldn’t explain the sudden desire, nor could he blame it on the bottle of alcohol they had yet to open. Perhaps it was appreciation, for the other Spy was the only one to show him such compassion since he’d broken things off with the Engineer; and he continued to do so, leaning forward into the kiss and sliding his hands down to hold Henri’s waist.
“Je ne vois pas un gui,” Antoine murmured breathlessly between kisses, now awfully smitten and painted even redder than usual.
“Tais toi, futé…” Henri lingered on the sight of the other’s lips before returning to them momentarily, struck instantly with an idea that ushered him to leap up from the RED’s lap and scurry over on unsteady feet to his neatly organized vanity.
The other Spy’s stomach fluttered when the BLU wandered away, already hungry for more; but Henri hadn’t gone far, and he didn’t disappear for very long. He returned with newfound excitement, triumphantly displaying the lipstick in his hand for Antoine to see and holding it out of reach when he inquired further.
“Non, pas pour toi..” Tantalizing and slow, Henri applied the lipstick for the other to writhe in curiosity beneath him, placing it behind them before he leaned in again, this time intentionally missing Antoine’s lips. “Mon cadeau, I must mark you as mine.”
“Beau, comme une poupée,” the RED mused absently, grazing one thumb over the lips stamped on his cheek. “That won’t do… kiss me more.”
The BLU complied, drawing a trail of kisses in a red brighter than their singed cheeks across the other’s sharper jawline and down his neck, then back to his lips as if they were completely irresistible. What started out as wonder had become a taste neither of them knew they’d been starved of; one that would not satiate their refined palettes, but instead the strings they plucked in each other’s empty heart. Already, a much better gift than cheap American whiskey.
They drifted together like the opposite ends of a magnet, further into the sofa until Henri had fallen asleep in the RED’s arms. Admittedly, he wasn’t as opposed to falling asleep here- in the enemy base, intertwined with the enemy Spy finally at peace on top of him- as he should’ve been.
Christmas was beginning to look a lot less bleak in Teufort.
“Did ye see that, Jane?!” Demo’s voice echoed louder than the howling winds with shock alone, one hand rubbing his bruised head and the other pointing down at the bottle that tumbled to his feet. “Straight from the heavens!”
“Santa!” Soldier shivered with excitement, the bells on his coat jingling as he leapt towards the stray bottle of whiskey like a tackle football player. When he’d hopped back up to his feet, he noticed Scout wandering towards them with a perplexed look. Then, he remembered their previous discussion. And how wrong the younger man had been. “See, Scout? I told you!” Soldier hastily shoved him into the wall by the collar of his elf costume with his free hand before he could argue, handing off the bottle for the more experienced drunk to open. Instead of ripping Scout’s head off, however, he showed an ounce of holiday mercy- at least that’s what Scout hoped it was, and not just the crazed rocket man becoming distracted by the Engineer sitting alone across the courtyard. “Engie! Santa brought us some whiskey, want some?”
“Aye, ye’d love this! It’s real Texas bourbon, I promise ye!” Demo chimed in, despite how little it helped. Truthfully, the Engineer knew exactly what brand it was before he began to shake his head.
He also knew well that old Saint Nick wasn’t the one to grace them with it.