As long as Arthur could remember, he had been alone on Christmas. Even as a child, his father had almost always been out on business trips during the holidays, leaving him completely alone. When he was an infant, he was cared for by a maid on Christmas, but by the time he was twelve, the staff had deemed him old enough to be alone in favor of seeing their own families, all the while leaving the boy to wake up on Christmas morning and unwrap the overflowing mound of gifts underneath the tree. Arthur understood that his father could not be bothered with trivial things like holidays and family time, knowing he had more important things to do, such as running his country or taking trips to the Bahamas with his beautiful (and considerably young) girlfriend.

He had never been angry with his father for this. In fact, Arthur had always looked up to his father. He had good social standing, an adoring partner, and all the money he could ever ask for and more. As a boy, he used to sit up and try to come up with an invention that would get him what his father had. Though, he had long since decided to throw the thought of love out the window; it was impossible to attain the kind of pure love his father possessed, surely. But he still held out on the hope that he could obtain the amount of riches his father had.

Arthur coasted his way through his basic schooling, college, and graduate school. He was a natural scholar, never turned an assignment late, and never got in trouble. Most were unaware he only wanted to bury himself under the constant pressure of perfection to distract himself from his lack of a social life. Yes, he had a few acquaintances, but never any real friends.

Finally, Arthur had created his own company, a tea company he called Kirkland Tea Co., and within a year, he was a billionaire. Unlike other companies, he took pride in using only the best ingredients and only the finest equipment to manufacture his product. He had never rejected any advertising campaigns for his company, and his tea was packaged in a way that was very attractive to his customers. With all the money he possessed, he could almost distract himself from the aching loneliness that resounded from his very core.

It was a two-month business trip to New York to expand his market that brought him to Alfred. The boy had been the last in line to apply for the position as Arthur's intern. He was disheveled, boisterous, and extremely energetic; all qualities Arthur had never been too fond of. But, Alfred insisted quite passionately that he was a hard worker, and something in those big blue eyes of his was just so damn beautiful that Arthur had hired him on the spot.

Alfred was very good at doing his job; he fetched Arthur his tea quickly and never got the order wrong. He wrote down notes quickly and put them into Arthur's computer even faster. He organized spreadsheets and created Powerpoint Presentations with ease. He had made Arthur's job so much easier, but it wasn't any of those qualities that eventually caused the stodgy owner of Kirkland Tea Co. to fall for him.

His laugh. That damn infectious laugh; how could anyone possibly have such a loud, sincere, jovial laugh? His smile. How could anyone possess such a bright, welcoming smile? His eyes. No pair in history had ever been so electric, so wide, so deep and bright. His charm. Could any one man really be so impossibly smooth? His childishness. The way he jumped up and down and squealed when given something he liked, his boundless energy and enthusiasm, his impossible curiosity, his optimism, his kind and trusting ways, his incredibly big heart, his impeccable ability to be smooth and cool one second, then bashful and embarrassed in the next, his love of everything space and mathematical, how he always wore two mismatched socks and didn't know how to tie a tie now matter how many times Arthur showed him... That, and so much more, was the reason Arthur fell in love with youthful, beautiful, amazing, completely out of his league, Alfred Jones.

Currently, the British man sat in his armchair, gazing at the entrancing flames that licked at the dark wood in the fireplace. Snow fell gently to the ground outside his window, blanketing New York City. He gazed over at his Christmas Tree, set up in the corner of his extremely large and spacious living room, and stood. As he made his way to outlet, he tugged the sweater one of his employees over his head and tossed it onto the couch. Bloody thing was too itchy.

When he reached the tree, he bent over, kneeling and plugging it into the wall. Gentle light flickered on, and when he pulled back, he smiled at the subtle white bulbs that adorned his plain tree. The only other decoration was the angel atop it. Even so, he found it beautiful, and reading in the dim light it provided proved so relaxing, he had considered keeping it up all year round. He admired it with a smile as he walked over to the counter and poured himself a glass of brandy, the liquid glittering as it reflected the light.

Smiling softly, the man clapped, and a soft, melodious piano tune began. He took a sip of his drink and leaned against his counter, admiring the scene out the window.

knock knock.

Arthur jolted, awakening from a stupor. He went back to the couch and snatched a t-shirt off the chair, hastily pulling himself into it as he walked to the door and opened it.

Standing before him was the one person he had never expected to see.

"Hey, Mr. Kirkland." Greeted Alfred, a grin spread across his lips. He held a bottle of wine in one hand and a small wrapped box in the other.

"Ah, hello, Alfred." Arthur replied, attempting to straighten his shirt and fix his hair without the younger man noticing. "How can I help you?"

The younger grinned. "Well, you could let me come in."

Arthur blinked rapidly, as if uncomprehending, before he nodded. "Yes, yes, of course. Make yourself at home." He told Alfred as he opened the door and allowed the man inside.

"Wow," Alfred breathed as he gazed at the the marvelous living room. He set the wine and present on the counter, slipping out of his jacket and shoes. "This place is seriously amazing."

Arthur shrugged. "Well, it's certainly not as large as my father's." He said, smiling softly.

Alfred turned back to him with a raised brow. "Why do you always compare yourself to your dad?" He asked.

"What?"

"You always act like your dad's achievements mean more than yours." The intern stated.

Arthur huffed. "I-I just think that what he has is very nice."

"What about what you have?"

"Yes, well, he has one thing I will never have." Arthur could not look at the young man as he said it.

"And what is that?"

You, idiot. Love. He has love, and I have nothing. He has the one he loves at his side. You're only at my side from nine to five for the paycheck. You could never love me.

"I've had enough of this conversation." Arthur said. "What is it you needed from me?"

"Oh, well... I'm alone this year, and I just thought... I mean, it's Christmas Eve, right? You should spend it with someone. You don't have anyone over, do you? I can just go..."

"No!" Arthur cried, then stopped. He cleared his throat. "No, that's quite alright. I don't have any company." The Brit stated with a nervous smile at the intern.

Alfred smiled back. "Great! Well, uh, I brought you this present and some wine." Alfred smiled as he passed the wrapped box to his boss. "It's, uh... Well, I didn't know what you wanted."

The British man looked over at him and smiled softly, setting the box back on the counter. His green eyes glittered as he looked over at the twenty-two year old intern and allowed a soft smile to come to his face. "Thank you, Alfred. Though I do believe I have already received everything I could ask for." If only you knew that you are the only thing I asked for.

Alfred blinked. "What do you mean by that? Did your dad send you something cool?"

"May I ask you a question?" Arthur asked suddenly, taking a step closer to Alfred.

"Huh? Yeah, sure, Mr. Kirkland." Alfred smiled sweetly at him, unaware of Arthur's attempts to close the distance between them.

"Is there someone you hold dear? A... A girlfriend, a boyfriend, a datemate...?"

Alfred flushed as the question was asked, beautiful blue eyes suddenly finding the ground. He shifted his weight from side to side a few times, clasping his hands behind his back. "Well, um... If you really haveta know, then yes. He's not my boyfriend or anything, though... I mean, I wish he was, it's just—Well, I dunno... He makes me nervous. I can't ask him. It would just complicate things, y'know? And I don't want that. Even if we're not together, I like things as they are."

Arthur nodded. He knew almost nothing about Alfred's romantic affairs except for the fact that Alfred had only one girlfriend in the past, and he didn't talk about her much. All Arthur was allowed to know about the reason for the break up was the fact that Alfred had unintentionally broken her heart. Other than that, Arthur knew the simple things relating to Alfred's romantic and sexual life; he was not a virgin when it came to both heterosexual and homosexual sex, but he did not enjoy either one and had determined he was asexual by the time he was nineteen. Arthur had no qualms with this, considering that Alfred did admit that he would be fine with pleasing his partner sexually when needed. On top of that, Alfred was panromantic. Arthur had always respected such things and had no problems with it either, though he himself was gay.

"May I ask who this man is?" He asked softly, biting his lip.

Alfred sucked in a huge breath, squared his chest, and looked back at Arthur. "Open your present." He said.

"...Ah. Yes, alright." Arthur said, now knowing that Alfred didn't trust him enough to tell him. Perhaps it was better that way... At least then Arthur wouldn't have to deal with the heartbreak if it turned out to be someone he knew. He didn't know how he would deal with it if someone from the company was the object of Alfred's affections... He might even have to fire them, as selfish as it would be. He simply didn't know if he would be able to handle seeing their face every day and refrain from smacking them.

Arthur's nimble fingers carefully unwrapped the present, his eyes widening as soon as he saw what was inside. Nothing but a small piece of paper was inside the box. It was crisp cardstock paper, and in Alfred's familiar handwriting were the words 'will you go out with me?'

Arthur looked up, eyes widened. "Is—Is this some kind of joke?" He asked, blinking rapidly.

"Er..." Alfred looked down, shifting nervously. "No, but..." He trailed off, looking up at him. "Look, Mr. Kirkland... I'm sorry... I just thought, uh... I don't know. Are you gonna fire me?"

"Hell no, idiot!" He cried. "Do you know how long I've waited for you to ask me that?!"

They grinned at each other, and Alfred yelped as Arthur tackled him in a hug.