#don't judge the mat. it is somehow impossible to clean

[nefja]

She found still intact wood in her tasty bog soil and sorted it out á la "nope that's wrong, i just want my sweet sweet dirt"

[freebooter4ever]

Merriell 'Naughty Elf' Shelton

Of all the absurdities and miraculous coincidences during the war, somehow in the middle of the more serious stuff, Snafu procures a Santa hat. They've barely been on Pavuvu for a day after battle, and he's already acting like Christmas is around the corner.

The red velvet hat is matted and the white 'fur' trim hasn't been white in a very very long time, but the long length of the cap and the pom pom is impossible to mistake. It's unequivocally a Santa hat. Eugene has no clue where it came from. And Snafu wears it 24/7 while they're all trapped on Pavuvu for Christmas.

With the Santa hat crammed over his longer than regulation length curls, Snafu stands out like a sore thumb. Everything on Pavuvu is green - from the palm leaves, to the PT boats, the tanks, and even the clothes on their backs when they're clean enough. Snafu's the one bright spot of garish red. It's like if one of Santa's elves went rogue and traded in their North Pole uniform for a Hawaiian grass skirt.

Eugene takes to calling Snafu 'The Naughty Elf' in his head whenever he catches sight of him. Not a hard thing to do since the red velvet catches the eye from half a mile away. He can pick Snafu out of a crowd in a single second. The man is a walking, singing (off key), shit-talking target. It drives home why the Marines' regular service greens are...well...green. Camouflage works.

On one particular day, Snafu goes marching past Gene and Burgie while on some mysterious errand. Snafu's expression is suspiciously self satisfied and his arms are laden down with sacks of something. If Eugene had to guess, he'd say that something was probably rotten coconut judging from the smell trailing behind Snafu as he walks by. Whatever is in the sacks, Snafu clearly is up to no good. His pranks have been especially notorious this past week while they've been idle.

Gene and Burgie's conversation falls quiet while they watch Snafu go about his business. Eugene narrows his eyes with distrust at Snafu's wiggling butt - the guy walks so funny when he's excited. And then Eugene accidentally says aloud the sentence that will haunt him for the rest of the holiday: "There goes that naughty little elf again."

Burgie almost chokes on his coffee. He drops his mug in the sand, spills the precious caffeinated commodity, and laughs so hard tears come to his eyes.

Eugene feels his face flush as red as Snafu's stupid hat. "Burgie…" - with panic rising in his chest Eugene tries to interrupt the laughing, "Burgie don't you dare repeat that!"

Burgie repeats it once - to Jay at lunch. But if you tell Jay you tell the entire Marines Corps so Burgie might as well have blabbed to everybody and their mother.

Snafu is livid. He spends an entire dinner detailing what he's gonna do to the no good scrooge who's too much a chicken to mock him to his face. Eugene listens quietly and takes it to heart. None of Snafu's list of uncomfortably detailed repercussions sound fun. Somehow Snafu doesn't know who first gave him the nickname. The one thing that doesn't survive the rumor mill is who said it first. Eugene is safe. He isn't about to be trounced anytime soon. But he's feeling guilty as hell.

Now, in addition to being the naughty elf, Snafu is an angry elf. He scowls at everybody from underneath the white fur trim, looking like the 8th dwarf from Snow White. He keeps the hat on in a stubborn test of wills. Even when the guys go skinny dipping on an especially roasty December day, the hat stays atop Snafu's curls.

The night after that swimming session, Eugene is treated to an especially hot dream about naked Snafu wearing the Santa hat over something other than his head. These dreams sometimes make Eugene worry his mother is right - guys with urges like his are going straight to hell.

His one consolation is...Snafu will probably be there with him.

The biggest irony is that Snafu is with him the most often out of any of the other guys these days. After finding out that people were calling him 'naughty little elf' behind his back, Snafu decided to stick close to Eugene's side, who he apparently considers his most loyal of buddies. This worsens Eugene's guilt but also means he no longer has to pick out the red hat among crowds of a few dozen guys...instead the red hat is sitting right there next to him. All. The. Time.

Snafu starts involving Gene in his pranks. Or at least he tries to. Eugene refuses to do anything illegal or against the very strict camp rules - which, let's be honest, includes anything that could be construed as 'fun'. Rather than be a participant Eugene stands on the sidelines...and after the fifth or sixth prank when Snafu once again glances back to make sure Eugene is watching -as if looking for approval, as if hoping to see Eugene impressed, as if Snafu's main audience is one sarcastic, droll, southern boy- Eugene finally realizes that Snafu might be trying to get his attention.

Which is silly, because he's always had it.

Eugene contemplates this new idea late into the night as he watches Snafu sleep. Snafu's sleeping on his stomach with his face mashed against his pillow. The Santa hat is lopsided, half covering one of Snafu's eyes, and the guy's nose is running. It definitely should not be attractive, yet somehow it is. Snafu kicks his blanket off in his sleep. He does this every night. And every night, if Eugene wakes up to take a piss and sees Snafu without any cover, he picks the blanket up, and spreads it back over Snafu's snoring form.

"Hey Gene…wake up..." Snafu's voice says in his ear and a hand prods his shoulder, "Gene…." another nudge "Gene…" nudge "Eugene…" nudge "Eugene…"

Eugene groans. "I'm awake," he insists without opening his eyes.

"One of the guys gave me an idea," Snafu says and rattles something in his free hand.

Eugene pries an eye open to see what it is.

Snafu is kneeling in front of his cot, with his face far too close to Eugene's this early in the morning - Eugene can smell his unwashed teeth - and in his hand is a camera. One of the ones those war correspondent guys use. "Where'd you get that?" Eugene mumbles with mild concern.

"Moonlight requisition," Snafu says as if it's obvious, "Get out of bed, I need you."

Usually when Snafu 'needs' Gene it means he wants Eugene to stand by and applaud the fallout of whatever latest bad idea Snafu's had.

When Snafu says 'I need you' in Gene's dreams it's said in a much breathier voice and means that the steamy part of night is going to start, and that Eugene will wake up sweaty and sticky.

Eugene sighs and swings his feet out of his cot onto the ground.

"You're gonna be the cameraman," Snafu announces and hands the fancy gadget to Eugene.

"Why?" Eugene pleads.

"Cause you're good with that artsy shit," Snafu says. He grabs Eugene's elbow and pulls him up from his seat. Snafu leads Eugene outside, through the palm trees, deep into the jungle, and over to a weird looking throne made out of palm fronds and scrap wood. Draped over the seat is what looks like a battered old parachute.

A gaggle of servicemen stand around the island throne, talking and laughing amongst themselves.

"What in the hell, Snafu?" Eugene turns to his captor.

"We're gonna take photos with Santa Claus!" Snafu exclaims with a proud grin, "The New York Times guy says he'll develop them for us, give us copies. We can send them home to our girls."

"Sounds ridiculous.." Eugene scowls.

"You got a girl to send a photo to Sledgehammer?" Snafu digs his elbow into Eugene's side and he waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"No." Eugene states curtly.

"Fine, you can send one to your mama," Snafu shrugs.

Eugene's mother would have a heart attack seeing her precious baby boy sitting on a lascivious Cajun Marine's lap.

"Who's going to be Santa Claus?" Eugene asks, though he's afraid he knows the answer.

Snafu grins at him deviously with dark glittering eyes. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to. Eugene already knows the answer. It's sitting there, crooked, right atop Snafu's irresistible head.

Eugene tries not to take the endeavor too seriously, but the sensitive artist side of him takes over and before he knows it he's directing several Marines to rotate and position the palm throne just so in order to capture the best light. He also helps complete Snafu's costume. The men 'borrowed' one of the officer's spectacles, and someone even stitched together a beard and moustache out of bird feathers.

Snafu makes a very dirty emaciated Santa Claus. But the guys are enthusiastic about the photos. Half of them are tipsy - or getting there. They take turns sitting on 'Santa's' lap, Eugene snaps their picture, and Snafu loudly asks what each of them wants for Christmas. There's a lot of ribald jokes thrown back and forth.

Snafu is way too enthusiastic about having a steady rotation of tanned, battle-hardened, strapping young men taking turns sitting on his lap. The resulting photos are more goofy than sexy, but the glee with which Snafu welcomes each volunteer onto his skinny legs makes Eugene wonder. He notices none of the female nurses got invited to this Christmas photo parade.

As the parade of handsome men continues through roughly fifty or so Marines, Eugene starts to suspect that this is Snafu's Christmas wish come true. A light bulb goes off in his head, and suddenly Snafu constantly seeking Eugene's approval takes on a deeper meaning. Slowly, gradually, the realization that Eugene's wildest dreams might have a chance at coming true unfolds like a wrapped Christmas present in his brain. By the time the fifty-fourth photo is snapped, and Snafu's enthusiasm hits a peak, Eugene is certain.

Merriell Shelton is even more of a confirmed bachelor than Gene himself is.

After the last guy stands up from Snafu's lap, Eugene fumbles with the camera, trying to get the cover back on the lens.

"Hey wait," Snafu grabs the guy's shirt before he can leave, "Someone needs to take a photo for Sledgehammer."

The guy agrees and holds his hand out for the camera, but Eugene shakes his head.

"No."

"Yeah!" Snafu urges, "C'mon, Gene, sit on my lap."

"I'd have no one to send the photo to," Eugene protests.

"So?" Snafu shrugs it off.

"So?" Eugene echoes teasingly, "You expect me to hang a snapshot of you and me in my bunk or something?"

Eugene can tell this is ramping up to be another one of their famous arguments. The third guy lingering in the forest can tell too. He hastily remembers some other more pressing work detail he needs to get to, and disappears.

"Fine," Snafu rolls his eyes and drops back onto his Santa Claus throne. He throws a leg onto one of the 'armrests' and tilts his head back to yank the beard off. The beard gets tossed to the side and Snafu's entire body goes limp. The leg not thrown casually over the armrest dangles off the seat as he relaxes. He becomes more of a lazy prince than a jolly Saint Nicholas.

Since they're now alone, Eugene allows himself to stare a little. With his head tilted back, Eugene can't see Snafu's eyes, only the long tempting stretch of his neck and the tip of his chin. He's absolutely beautiful, in the prime of his life, completely confident and at ease. It's one of those times Eugene wishes he had a camera to document the beauty alongside the horror of war.

With a start Eugene remembers that he is, in fact, holding a camera in his hand.

He hastily unscrews the cap and lifts the camera to his eye, hoping to capture the moment before Snafu decides to move. Unfortunately the loud click of the camera means Eugene only gets one chance. The minute Snafu hears the telltale snap, he lifts his head in confusion.

"What're you wasting film for?" Snafu accuses, "There's no one here?"

"Yeah there is," Eugene says as he moves to get a better angle, "You."

Snafu rolls his eyes and drapes himself dramatically against the chair again, "What a line." His sarcasm is dripping.

Eugene watches him with mild amusement. "Are you mad because I wouldn't take a photo with you?" he asks.

"No." Snafu insists petulantly. His insistence isn't very convincing. Especially when it comes with him crossing his arms and huffing his shoulders. And an annoyed little wiggle of his hips that draws Eugene's line of sight straight there.

"Snaf…" Eugene almost laughs.

"If you don't sit on Santa's lap your Christmas Wish won't come true," Snafu warns, his voice still huffy and ridiculous.

"Doesn't matter," Eugene says as he steps forward with the camera to take a close up of Snafu's face, "My wish is too selfish to make this year."

"Yeah?" Snafu sounds curious.

"Yes," Eugene sighs greatly, "It sort of feels like a proper Christian should be wishing for world peace or something this year. But…I don't know, I guess war also brings out baser, more immediate needs."

"Like what?" Snafu asks. He tries to mask his intense curiosity, but Eugene can tell he's eager for an answer.

"Not telling you," Eugene scoffs. He caps the lens of the camera and sets it on the ground beside the throne.

"Gene, you got half the camp calling me 'naughty elf', you fucking owe me," Snafu whines, "Tell me."

Eugene winces with guilt. "Burgie told you where that started," he surmizes.

"Burgie told me," Snafu agrees, "So if you've got some selfish naughty Christmas fantasy about a girl back home, it's your turn to be the entertaining one."

That makes Eugene see red - and not Snafu's hat this time. "I told you already," he scowls, "I don't have a girl back home."

"Maybe you've got something going with one of the nurses on the island…?" Snafu prompts.

"Have you ever seen me hanging around a nurse?" Eugene deadpans.

Snafu nods, "Right. I forgot. You've never even gotten so much as a scraped knee in this war. Maybe you don't need a Christmas Wish, you got all the luck you could want."

"Not all of it," Eugene responds quickly. A little too quickly.

"What else do you want?" Snafu taunts in the same voice he uses whenever he wants Eugene to know that he thinks Eugene is a very spoiled college boy.

Eugene steps right up to the throne, places his hands on the armrests and leans into Snafu's space until he's hovering right above him. Looking Snafu up and down, he throws caution to the wind, and says, "You."

Snafu's confused expression doesn't change, and Eugene doesn't give him a chance to ask questions. He simply dips down and presses his dry, chapped lips to Snafu's own.

Or at least he tries to. Unfortunately Eugene doesn't have a lot of kissing experience - or any at all really. So he fucking misses. His lips hit the bottom of Snafu's nose and the very tip of Snafu's top lip. It's a weird smack, and it's not nearly as sexy as Eugene was imagining it to be, and he's a little disappointed. He's got the best aim in K company, how the hell did he miss his most important shot?

He adjusts his angle, and tries again, and this time lands right on Snafu's plush lips. When Eugene breaks away ever so slightly to check Snafu's reaction, he sees Snafu still has his eyes closed and his lips puckered, like he's waiting for more. Eugene smiles, and starts to stand back up.

Snafu immediately scrambles to sit upright, chasing after Eugene's lips. His eyes are wide with shock. "But you don't even like me?" he says.

"When did I say that?" Eugene asks.

"Didn't have to say it," Snafu protests, "The eyerolls, the suspicious looks, calling me 'elf' behind my back when I'm definitely taller than you…"

"Are you trying to tell me you aren't a naughty elf?" Eugene asks, trying to put a little something extra in his voice. He grabs the pom pom at the end of Snafu's Santa hat and bops it to the other side of his head.

Snafu's mouth drops open.

Eugene grins. After long hours of Snafu tormenting him in the worst way (all those inscrutable stares, what did they even mean?), Eugene's finally got the upper hand.

Luckily Snafu adapts quickly. His hands grip Eugene's thighs and pull Gene down into his lap. He goes in for another kiss, this one a lot more active and dirty than their tentative, chaste first kiss.

Eugene settles his butt directly over Snafu's hips, with a knee on either side of his body, and threads his fingers into Snafu's curls underneath the Santa hat. He kisses down Snafu's jaw till he reaches his ear and whispers, "I'm in your lap Santa, do I get my wish now?"

"Fuck, Sledgehammer, whatever you want, it's yours," Snafu groans. His hands slide inside Eugene's belt and pants in order to grip the bare skin of his hips, "I'll even take the hat off, but only for you."

"Leave it on," Eugene grins and tugs the hat farther down over Snafu's ears. "How many times do I have to tell you, Shelton?" Eugene asks, "You are my wish." He kisses Snafu again and presses their foreheads together so he can look him in the eye. "Haven't I already told you how cute you are?"

THE END

Fa la la la la. la la. la. la. Dedicated to @diasimar @edteche2 @stolperzunge @s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r