preussisch_blau | Spammin ur flist... More work for the RCCDT

This time, I come bearing fanfic!

Title: It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas
Author: Alouette Sparra
Rating: G
Characters/Pairing: Lipton/Speirs
Disclaimer: No disrespect meant to the actual men. Based off the miniseries. Sure as Hell ain't making any money from this.
Author's Notes: Companion piece to this drawing. For Day Three of the Random Christmas Challenge Doohickey Thingy.

It was almost Christmas, although that was something easily forgot when the days and nights blended to-gether into one long haze of cold and snow and grey. He was checking in on the men, making sure they were settled for the night. Sometimes he ran across a Dog Company foxhole, on occasion some Fox men, once, oddly enough, a pair from Able. The line was a bit of a mess and everyone knew it. Even the Germans probably knew it, although Lipton wouldn't be surprised if their line was just as disorganised.

He had just finished checking in with everyone and was about to return to the safety of his own foxhole when a glint of light caught his eye. It was in their line, so he indulged his curiousity and went to investigate.

The sight left him shocked, speechless even. There was a small pine tree with machine gun rounds draped around it, almost like garland. Right next to a foxhole. He moved closer, not quite believing what he was seeing.

"Evening, First Sergeant."

Yes, he jumped at that, and turned around to see a man walk out of the trees behind him. Lieutenant Speirs, his mind supplied. This must be his foxhole, because it was empty. Lt. Speirs must have been checking on his own men. "Sir..."

"Like my tree?"

That would explain why it was decorated with ammunition. Although to be honest, he couldn't quite match any sort of Christmas tree up with the rumours he'd heard about the man. Thoughts of Lt. Speirs made a man think of many things... getting shot for disobeying orders, a certain incident on D-Day... Christmas trees were not on that list. As such, he had no idea what to say. The safe response was presumably an affirmative, unless he wanted the truth, in which case he had no idea.

And since when was he standing that close?

"...Asked you a question."

"..." He shook his head, confused. "It's... interesting, sir." That was about all he could safely say about the little tree.

"But do you like it?"

Why his answer mattered so much, he didn't know. He wasn't sure if he liked it... It was a Christmas tree decorated with ammunition, for crying out loud. Except he didn't not like it, because at least there was some bastion of holiday spirit around. Hopefully that would suffice. "I don't not like it, sir."

Speirs nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. "Alright then. Carry on." He walked past Lipton, brushing his arm against Lip's chest. Then, with what appeared to be one graceful move, he drew back the tarp covering his foxhole and slid inside for the night. That was probably a hint to go away, so Lip took it. He turned and trudged back to his own foxhole, shaking his head in wonder at the idea of a tree decorated with bullets. Somehow that seemed appropriate for a man such as Speirs, now that he'd had time to actually process the thought. Perhaps he was imagining things, but he could have sworn he'd heard someone faintly whistling "It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas" as he walked away. Right. No one would be crazy enough to whistle Christmas carols around here.

Or maybe someone would be. Someone was certainly crazy enough to have a tree.

He joined in.