Oh, Keegan P. Russ, the bastard he was.

There were many things the sergeant had become known as. Stoic, quiet, swift, conscientious, hardworking, focused. But cheeky, bold, and flirtatious were not among those.

He'd built quite an impressive career from the first time he joined the army, absolutely wiping the floor with his achievements. The very achievements that made him become a Ghost.

Reserved. Keegan never had spoken much. He was straightforward, to the point, and got the job done. It seemed like his whole life had revolved around that team and his work.

It would seem like his personality was an easy one to figure out.

Nobody could be more wrong.

You had been thrown into the mix of the best near the beginning of the year and by christmas, you thought you had figured the damn sergeant out. There were moments when he surprised you, when he broke character.

Like when you tripped over a rock while the two of you trudged through the woods and he near chuckled before whispering; "Last I checked, we are supposed to be on watch. If you can't spot a rock, then perhaps you should head back."

It was rare when he let those little sparks of humanity show, when he wasn't Sergeant Russ and was just Keegan.

The snow had begun to fall as the christmas season rolled around. The world took a break from the war. A christmas truce.

You held a cup filled with liquor as your fellow teammates laughed with each other, looking more at ease than you had seen them since you joined. Your eyes scanned the room, making a mental head count.

Merrick, Hesh, Lo- where the hell was Keegan? He wasn't the most social, but he wouldn't just not be there. That wasn't him.

A hand grasped your wrist and spun you around as you nearly choked on your drink. The world seemed to slow as every tick that passed by seemed to stretch into eternity. Keegan's hand dangled above your heads, something in his grasp as he made you near bend backward. Then, as his lips touched yours, you realized what was in his hand.

Mistletoe.