Every year the teams gather for a friendly wager - this year, Bravo has an ace up their sleeve: Clay. Little bit of language, a dash of OCs.

Alternate Title: Counting SEALs

Rated T. Features Stella/Clay minimally. Mostly just Bravo Bonding. This was originally posted on Christmas on Ao3. ;)

The Christmas Bet

"Alright!" Jason slapped the table as he sat down, silencing his team. He scooted in, elbows on the table. "I spoke with Fuller and Gonzales - Teams Christmas Party is on."

Sonny barked out a laugh, "The usual betting pool?"

Jason grinned, "You know it."

"What's the usual bet?" Clay asked from the end of the table, his fork halfway to his mouth.

Ray shook his head, "Basically: who knows more SEALs."

"Entry fee is a case of beer." Trent offered up from across the table, mid-chew. "Good beer, none of that Japanese stuff."

"Winner takes the pot," Jason drummed on the table. "Fuller won last year." He eyed each of his men, hard, "Bravo needs to take it this year."

Clay squinted, "I don't understand. How do we prove how many SEALs we know?"

"Videographic evidence," Sonny pointed his fork at the kid. Eyebrows raised.

Brock chortled, "Usually in the form of embarrassing home videos." He elbowed Ray, "Like Ray's Easter Egg Hunt." The senior chief glared back.

"I ain't submitting that again."

"Everyone submit their best," Jason leaned back in his chair, grin spreading wide. "Winning videos aren't allowed, so Fuller's at a disadvantage."

Clay pushed his empty plate away, face scrunched up in thought. "What are the rules exactly?"

"Must be from a holiday event." Ray started ticking off fingers. "You have to be in your own video, not filming."

"No other restrictions?" Clay leaned forward, chin resting on his hand. "Do the SEALs have to be active to count?"

Trent narrowed his eyes, "Why?"

Clay grinned, "You do realize I spent most major holidays as a kid in the company of my dad's team?"

"Meaning?" Sonny squinted, pointing an accusatory finger. "How many SEALs we talkin'?"

"Active?" Clay puckered his lips, "10ish."

Jason leaned over the table, "Inactive?" Clay shrugged, smiling lightly. When he got up, Clay had his phone out, thumbs flying.

"I'm thinking this is the year for side-bets," Sonny grinned, nodding towards Trent, "You think Derek would go for 50$ split on Bravo?"

"Alpha hasn't won in years," Brock shook his head, "That's just cold, Sonny."

"So is money, and beer," Sonny clapped the man's shoulder, "And it looks like Spenser's got this in his back pocket."

Jason clapped his hands together, "I need to go find Beau." And their fearless leader was off. Ray shook his head.

"Why did I volunteer to host?"

-.-.-

The Perry home had a fairly modest entertaining space. Until you opened the back door. The backyard was large, flat, and lined by a tall red fence. Naima had hung garland around it as well.

"You went all out, huh?" Beau grinned at the projector screen that dominated the back of the yard.

"Wanna be sure every SEAL is seen and counted," Ray told him, handing the Charlie team leader a beer.

"I appreciate that," Beau clinked his bottle with Ray's, "My streak is in jeopardy after all."

Ray rolled his eyes, "You've only won twice in a row. Delta got you the year before that."

"Delta's on rotation this year," Beau's laughter rang out, drawing Jason in to their conversation.

"Now, now," Jason swaggered up, "No need to be overconfident, Fuller. This is Bravo's year."

"Says the man who bet me a crisp Benjamin your team would take the pot."

Ray alipped away from the team leaders' bickering. Alpha's Gonzales was occupying himself at the buffet table - a much safer option that getting involved.

"Have you guys heard of alcohol poisoning?" Stella's voice caught Ray's attention as he passed the sliding glass door and he changed directions to enter the kitchen.

Clay was carefully placing a case of beer - a microbrew that Sonny would certainly curse at later - on one of the towers that the teams had been building. They had nearly enough for a whole fort.

"SEALs are immune," Clay quipped as he returned to Stella's side, kissing her cheek. Stella smiled, eyebrows still raised incredulously at the cases.

"Once it gets split six ways, it looks less intimidating," Ray greeted the two as he stepped over. He eyed Clay with lowered eyebrows, "You bring a video?"

The kid held up a USB drive, "I had to digitize an old mini-VHS." Ray grinned, eyeing the towers with glee.

"I still think you should have gone with the Christmas one," Stella looked at Clay, eyes glittering. "You were absolutely adorable."

Clay rolled his eyes, "That tape is never seeing the light of day. Ever!"

"What tape did you bring?" Ray's eyebrows knitted together. "Best foot forward here, Spenser. Bravo's gotta win."

"Fourth of July, 2003," Clay held his hands up, shook his head, "You guys are just lucky my dad's team was so codependent."

Stella's eyes widened, eyebrows raised as she looked between the two, "Are you insinuating yours…isn't?"

Naima passed by, a platter of food in hand, "I second that." Ray spread his arms out, turning to follow her. "Don't start arguments you can't win, dear."

"Comparatively," Clay spoke through his laughter, "I think my dad's team was worse." Stella shrugged, hooked her arm through Clay's. They walked out to the backyard just as the screenings began.

Davis sat, front row center, with her fellow logistics counterparts from Alpha and Charlie. The official SEAL counters. Blackburn and Harrington had even showed up, sitting in the back row with Gonzales.

It was a close one, by the final video the tally stood at Fuller with 15, Sonny with 12, and - to everyone's surprise - Derek with 9. Clay's video, by order of arrival, was last.

"Why do we need so many fireworks?"

The teenager that appeared on screen was a lanky thing - with scraggly blond hair tickling his ears. In front of him sat the easily recognizable Ash Spenser with at least six large rockets layed out on the sand in front of him.

"Well, what's the point of celebrating if the International Space Station can't see it?" Ash grinned wide, arms spread wide as he knocked Clay's shoulder.

The man behind the camera laughed, deep and throaty, "Yeah, Baby Spenser, the brighter the better!"

The teenager turned to look at the camera, face scrunched up in a glower, "I'm not a baby, Uncle Jerry."

The crowd of SEALs was already laughing at Clay's whiny, cracking voice when Fuller called out, "Pleaae tell me that isn't Jeremy "Jerry" MacGuire I hear?"

Clay snorted, "Please, call him Jeremy in front of me!"

The crowd silenced, eyes flickered betwen the screen - where Ash's old team of SEALs appeared one after another to assemble a large array of fireworks - to Clay. It was Sonny who swore first.

"How the fuck does the kid end up knowing the fucking King of SEALs?!"

Davis shushed them all, not turning her head from the screen as she scribbled on her clipboard.

"Oy!"

MacGuire flipped the video, and the greying hair and crooked nose of the legendary SEAL proved his identity.

"Greenie, come get in frame with me."

Another man came in frame - dark hair and thick mustache even more prominent on Adam Seaver's face when he was younger.

"I'm not sure this is safe," Adam was looking off screen, brow furrowed.

MacGuire clapped him on the back, "That's half the fun." In the background, several SW teams ran past.

Groans and grumbles echoed through the backyard as the logistic specialists started scribbling. The faces of half the SEALs present were discernable - including both Jason and Beau, who were very obviously racing each other at the front of the pack.

"That should not count." Beau shook his head, a hand to his forehead.

"But we counted the two runners in your video," Jason reminded him, sly grin spreading across his face. Beau grunted, knocking the man's shoulder.

Sonny and Trent had fallen into a huddle of laughter. That had added at least 7 to Spenser's tally.

"Dad!" Clay's voice cracked again, but he was laughing.

The camera moved again. Clay was hanging over his father's shoulder, a giant grin splitting his face as the man carried the teen towards the ocean. A grappling war broke out as Ash tried to through him into the sea.

When the splashing was over, father and son were both soaked and Ash Spenser was being held down by two of his teammates. Clay had somehow ended up on dry land, laughing at his father.

MacGuire's own laughter drowned whatever words Ash Spenser spat at his men once. But his face was sputtering.

"Can't handle your men, Spenser?" A voice echoed from the side and the camera moved again to show another man. This one tall, with a dash of red hair.

Ash's scoff was audible, "We both know handling SEALs is like handling hand grenades, Donahue."

The redhead laughed, extending a hand to help Ash up, "Yeah, throw them in the right direction…"

"And duck." MacGuire finished the sentence, a chuckle in his voice. "Wow, you'd think you two were trained by the same man."

Donahue and Spenser both rolled their eyes.

"Really, Jer?" "Couldn't help yourself could you?"

Clay popped up beside Donahue, a giant grin on his face, "Hey, Uncle Will, where's Caroline?"

"Why do you ask?" Donahue narrowed his eyes on the kid, then on Ash, "When did Baby Spenser stop believing in cooties?"

Ash shrugged. Clay rolled his eyes.

"She said she'd let me have her old textbooks."

"Spenser was a nerd!" Sonny yelled out. He turned to Brock, "Pay up sucker, proof!" He pointed back at the screen.

20 bucks changed hands. Another 50 discreetly slipped from Harrington to Blackburn. Gonzales shook his head, side-eyeing the officers.

The video cut out to show the beach at night. Dozens of fireworks lifted off the ground as one - through the haze of their ignitions the clinking of beers and whooping of men could be heard.

The camera turned to focus on the crowd as the fireworks lit the sky. Front and center was Clay, wrapped up in his father's coat, red and blue fireworks painted on his cheeks.

Ash stood behind him with the now-familiar red head. Eight men fanned out from the two. Seaver stood on the edge, Nora curled into his side as they stared, wide-eyed up at the sky.

"And that, gentleman," Ash yelled, "is how you celebrate the birth of the greatesf nation on earth!" The men whooped again, jostling each other as they jumped and yelled.

"You were adorable!" Stella grinned into Clay's ear, kissing his cheek as the video ended.

He laughed, "Were?" Stella rolled her eyes, swatting his should as she sat back. Clay raised his voice above the dine of noise the end of the video had produced, "Hey Davis! What was the final tally?"

The crowd of SEALs quieted as the specialists' compared notes. Davis stood up, cleared her throat, "17 SEALs for Spenser!"

Sonny and Jason cheered, Derek and Beau cursed.

As arguments ensued and money was counted (and then recounted, slower) Stella slipped away. When she returned it was with a smile cracking her cheeks and Clay's cell at her ear.

Clay looked up as she handed it to him, eyebrow arched, "Hello?" The crowd laughed as Clay shot out of his chair, red spreading across his cheeks, "Hey Uncle Jerry!" He pursed his lips, mimicking a bobble head doll as he stood there.

Brock already had his phone out, filming the younger man. Stella stood off to the side. Her smile was wide, her lips pressed together, and she traded an eyebrow raise with Naima across the yard.

"That wasn't terrifying at all," Trent whispered to Ray, who was watching the exchange with knitted brows.

Clay finally turned to face the crowd, face still red and phone in hand.

An hour later, on a boat docked in Boston, an alert chimed on a laptop. Jerry MacGuire clicked the email to view the photo he'd requested. Stella had outdone herself.

A pile of beer was arranged in the shape of a throne. Atop the throne sat a curly-haired blond with red cheeks, a pretty brunette in his lap. All behind the throne was five men and two more women - varied expressions of amusement on their face.

"Nicely done, Baby Spenser." MacGuire took a sip of his beer - a microbrew from Virginia Beach.

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