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The bell rang as Simon King and Peter Gray exhaled in utter relief. Respectively, the black-furred fox and timber wolf had been working a ten-hour evening shift at Palmer's Department Store and were eager to return home with their impressive paychecks in paw. For Simon, he mostly desired to return to his shared apartment and sleep the rest of Winter away.

"Hey, Simon!" Peter waltzed up to the tired fox after pocketing his paycheck. "Do you know what day it is?"

"Uh...the day when Palmer's has a discount on firewood?" Simon yawned confusedly to his American coworker, who started snickering in disbelief. "What're you laughing at?"

"Oh, good Lord," Peter collected himself and shook his muzzle. "No, besides that, Simon. It's the day before Christmas Eve! What? The Queen or King don't let the poor folk celebrate Christmas in Jolly Olde London?"

The fox's eyes grew wide at the realization of the day's date. "Yes, we do," he sighed, chuckling to himself as he walked with Peter past shelves upon shelves of products, most of which were Christmas-themed. "It's been a weird month for me, okay? Palmer has been asking me to pull twelve-hour shifts ever since Gavin quit."

"Then I got the thing for you," Peter wrapped an arm around the fox and pointed down a row of indistinguishable buildings lining around their workplace. "I happen to know that on Christmas Eve, the New Yorkers certain know how to celebrate. There's gonna be some wild parties around town, and I was just wondering if you'll join me? It'll be a wild night! We can eat all we want and drink until we both start going blind, haha!"

Simon mulled it over for a moment or two. In all honesty, what were his initial plans in celebrating Christmas? Well, after another shift that let off around sunset, Simon hoped to relax with his roommates at their apartment. Maybe sit in front of the fireplace and drink cups of hot cocoa while cuddling into a blanket too. Then, Simon initially planned to fall asleep later that evening and wake up bright and early on Christmas Day, when he had the entire day off and could properly enjoy himself. However, the thought of joining Peter Gray--his handsome, friendly and equally mischievous coworker--for some party-hopping fun on Christmas Eve won over the British fox quite easily.

"Can Rut and Fiz come?" He asked with an excitedly wagging tail. "Please, Peter?"

Peter hesitated in answering yes. The thought of joining Rut for a drink seemed appealing, but the American timber wolf fully knew the laidback, white-furred fox would never go anywhere without his twin brother. The previous time all four of them had gathered for mild fun, Peter vividly recalled how the psychotically energetic fox somehow got arrested by policewolves for stealing a motorcar, carving crude images into a statue with his knives, and switching several street signs. How he managed to walk off scot-free, Peter would never know.

Still, Simon's puppy-dog eyes couldn't make the timber wolf say 'no', much to his inner chagrin. Giving him a reluctant smile, Peter cautiously answered, "Suuuuuuuuuure."

***

The very next day, upon being let from work early by Palmer, Peter led Simon and his two chaotic friends to their first destination: a neighborhood Christmas festival near the East Side, complete with sledding, some music being played outside by enthusiastic musicians, as well as stands with freshly baked goods and hot drinks. The sun had barely set, but thanks to newly installed electric streetlights and the reflections they made, everyone could still see.

"Hot chocolate! So tasty!" Fiz tried sprinting from his brother's arms. "Gimme gimme!"

"Alright," Rut sighed as he let go, shouting after his other half, "but don't take too much, Fiz, I mean it!"

"Wanna go try some schnitzel sticks?" Peter offered to Simon and Rut, pointing to a caravan with a modest line. "You'll really enjoy it. They're German slices of meat cooked and given spices and cinnamon and--oh you'll love it!"

They all did. They enjoyed the schnitzel, as well as what the small street's Christmas festival offered, from a pair of familiar humans singing festive hymns to a snowball fight between cubs. Yet they weren't finished. Upon enjoying all the street had to offer, Peter led them to several pubs along the way. Unfortunately, when Fiz didn't find himself stuffing schnitzels down his gullet and Rut required some water for his brother to drink it down, the chaotic fox went about causing trouble.

The first pub they went inside kicked them out in twenty minutes.

"Fiz, why did you climb on the chandelier back there?" Rut asked.

"Shiny lights. Wanted closer look."

Rut sighed in annoyance. "Of course, you did."

The second pub they went inside kicked them out in eight minutes.

"I told you never to play around with fire pokers, Fiz!" Simon scolded the fox. "We're lucky the bear ducked in time and you only destroyed that portrait."

"The owner was quite cross though," Peter winced at the cracks. "Said it was an heirloom."

"Heirloom look better now." Fiz joked, which earned him a cuff on the back of the neck.

The third pub they went inside kicked them out in eleven minutes.

"That's the last time you're allowed anywhere near a fireplace, brother!"

The fourth pub they went inside kicked them out in...

"I go into the restroom for three minutes, and you almost stab someone?!" Peter groaned while sending death glares to Fiz and his equally annoyed twin brother. "What happened?"

"It's called the Knife Game, where you try to stab the spaces between a person's fingers without them flinching," Rut explained, "but my brother didn't bother telling the tiger that."

"Know not game," Fiz giggled as Rut stared deadpan at his twin. "Lucky fingers still there."

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. "Rut," he said, "the next time your brother tries something, you're gonna tie him up, or so help me, I'll hang his tail from Lady Liberty herself."

"Will do," Rut chirped in agreement.

The fifth pub they found themselves entering, an Irish tavern drenched in red decoration and green ferns all over, graciously invited the four inside without much issue. Yet a minute or so upon beginning to drink, something caught the chaotic fox's eyes. Fiz's eyes grew alight at the sight of a brightly shining star made of gold atop the tavern's Christmas tree.

A second later, and Rut hurriedly tried stopping his brother from climbing the decorated pine. Yet Fiz tried persistently reaching for the star, shaking the tree and causing a few ornaments to nearly fall. To the rest of the bargoers, they didn't think much of the fox's antics, and even cheered somewhat when Rut pulled a little too hard on his brother's trousers, causing a glimpse of the fox's exposed heiny to flash everyone watching the scene. Even Peter and Simon couldn't help but cackle at the hilarity of the situation, especially after Rut succeeded in yanking down the living disaster magnet down from the Christmas tree.

"This is for your own good, brother!" Rut finished tying up his twin with some rope acquired from the bartender. "We promised this was gonna happen if you caused trouble."

"Hehe," the fox, ignorant of his bindings, whispered something to his brother. "Kinky."

"S-Shut up!" Rut almost broke out into heavy blushes. "Now let's enjoy ourselves!"

Despite these setbacks and despite Fiz now calming down due to the ropes, Simon had to admit; New York City certainly knew how to celebrate Christmas, compared to dreary England. Granted, his mischievous wolf friend couldn't hold a pint to save his life, but Peter more than made up for this shortcoming by being the life of the party. He sang carols, he danced to music, he joyously flirted with ladies, but didn't let any rejections pull him down from joining Simon in some singing with the rest of the bargoers.

"The holly green, the ivy green, the prettiest picture you've ever seen!" They chorused alongside a few drunken Irish hounds on the pub's dancefloor. "It's Christmas in Killarney, with all of the folks from home! It's nice, you know, to kiss your beau, while cuddlin' under the mistletoe! And Santa Claus, you know, of course is one of the boys from home!"

In all honesty, Simon found Peter's Christmas cheer infectious. It had spread already to his friends Rut and Fiz, the former of whom tried everything to keep up with his twin brother while attempting to befriend every other partygoer. While tied up, of course, much to everyone's either delight or confusion. Either way, it did little to hinder the fun they had.

An hour went by before Simon and Peter found themselves wandering outside when the former couldn't hear what the latter had been saying. The stark difference between inside the pub and outside became apparent when Simon practically shouted, "What?!" and his question echoed like a banshee scream all the way across the sooty rooftops of Manhattan's tenement buildings.

"I said you're such an amazing fox, Simon!" Peter cackled as they leaned against a brick wall, with tiny snowflakes descending. Some fell on them, and it almost tickled the wolf's sensitive nose. "I can't tell ya how much fun I've been having since I met ya!"

"I've been having the time of my life too, Peter!" Simon stared happily up at the cloudy sky filled of gentle snowfall, then smiled at the American wolf as his accent slipped, "I ain't had this much Christmas fun in ages, I have not!"

"Ya deserve it, laddie!" Peter tried (and failed) at imitating an English accent, only for him and Simon to clutch their stomachs.

Neither had drunk more than a bottle or pint each, but they both felt drunk with mutual happiness. Both experienced quite the chaotic year, but they had survived in one piece.

A certain wolf glanced up to a fire escape latched above them to the building, finally noticing something hanging above his ears. Seeing the plant and turning to his still-laughing friend gave Peter an idea. It was a wonderfully queer idea. No, it was a wonderfully gay idea.

With Christmas Eve nearing, Peter had been feeling stuck about what he should give his new friend as a present. He contemplated on saving up on the best Earl Grey at the stores, or perhaps an expensive trip to the Statue of Liberty by ferry. However, the idea for Simon's present struck him like a divine light from God, because hanging above them from the frosted metal of a fire escape rested a dainty mistletoe.

Peter fully knew well about Simon's nature. It did not bother him, frankly, much of it having to do with two father figures of his youth being homosexual as well, yet showing nothing but loving, paternal affection to him growing up. He did not care what the Bible or preachers of the cloth claimed; Simon deserved love, no matter the gender. He also knew Simon harbored the tiniest crush on him since August that year, when a freak rainstorm had soaked Peter to the bone and his foxy coworker offhanded mentioned being able to see his nipples through his shirt.

"Say, Simon," the wolf asked with a fanged grin, "what's that up there?"

"Huh?" The English fox stared up and raised an eyebrow, "Is that mistletoe?"

"Yep," Peter licked his lips and couldn't believe what he did next. "Now pucker up!"

The kiss greatly surprised Simon. If not for it happening in the first place but coming from somebody like Peter himself. See, the wolf greatly preferred women over men in every sense of relations, whether it be romantic or sexual. Even so, it didn't stop Simon from melting into the manly embrace and enjoying the wolf's sensual lips.

Peter pulled away and smirked at the dazed fox. In all honesty, it didn't feel bad, even if his heart and soul belonged to women. "If I were little more inclined to men like you are," he confessed with the widest grin he could muster, "I would give you another kiss."

"Hehe...wow," Simon blinked and chuckled, blushing like an embarrassed schoolboy. "And I'd gladly be inclined for another."

Both smiled with wagging tails and quivering lips. The dam burst as they realized the situation. The fox and the wolf suddenly found themselves laughing, with Peter in particular slapping his knee as light snowfall dotted their headfur and clothing.

Walking back around the corner, Simon next heard a flurry of noises. He and Peter hurried back to the front entrance just in time to spot Fiz gleefully running out of the pub--untied from the rope--holding a golden star that he'd been previously after. Rut was angrily chasing after him.

"Ho ho ho!" The chaotic fox shouted as he proudly held up his newly won prize. He pranced down the street, twirling and hopping to dodge his twin brother's every futile attempt at grabbing his tail. "Meeeeerry Christmas!"

"Fiz, you get back here!" Rut hollered. "Fizzz!"

As Peter and Simon watched the two fox brothers disappear into the night, they shook their amused muzzles and wondered how much of a tip they should give the owner for the Christmas tree that was now missing a star.