Saying you were "worse for wear" was a bit of an understatement.

Large, purple bags hung under your dull (e/c) eyes; the mark from early mornings and late nights. Your once-tame (h/c) hair was mangled, having not been brushed in days. Your clothes were crumpled and wrinkled; you hadn't changed out of your pajamas in days. Your hands shook as you poked the needle through the fabric, pulling it through and repeating with the hole diagonally across from it. You yawned loudly. You wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep for another year, but you had to get this done. Christmas was tomorrow.

Yes, the date was the twenty-fourth of December, known to many as Christmas Eve. Most people were cramming in any last-minute shopping, or traveling places to spend the holiday with their families. However, you were locked up in your room, doing the one thing you could bet nobody else was: needlework.

Needlework wasn't your favorite activity, but you could tolerate it, for the sake of your friend. It was his favorite activity, so you figured it would fit in well as a Christmas gift. It was basic cross-stitch, and not your finest work, but you figured he would like it anyway. If nothing else, being the gentleman he was, he would pretend, at the very least. That was something.

As you stitched, your phone began to buzz, as it had so many times. You picked it up and thumbed the "off" button, not even having to glance at the caller ID to know who it was. Sorry, Arthur… you mentally apologized to your friend, who would later be the recipient of the gift you were making. He had called at least twenty times before, and you felt bad about not answering, but you wanted to finish your project by Christmas Day.

Tomorrow.

But, it wasn't hopeless! You were actually almost done with the needlework. Just a few more stitches of blue…

Okay. So there was a little more to why you were doing this.

It was a classic, overwritten story, told through the ages in the forms of stories, movies and myths, used commonly when a person finds a strike of inspiration while reading. It was the typical tale of two childhood friends, growing up together, laughing and playing through the years, until the ever-exciting year of High School came and a little awkward feeling sprang up between the two of you. You knew the feeling, having read it in books and seen it in films, but you weren't sure how to deal with it, so you shrugged it off.

But you found yourself wanting to impress him more and more. It wasn't easy finding a way to do it, but you had a feeling this would work. It was a combination of his favorite hobby, and his country's flag. The only problem was that this project was taking forever, but you had patience. You knew if you worked quickly enough it would be done by tomorrow…and it might even be finished tonight.

Just a few rows of blue to go…

Another yawn. You had tears of exhaustion in your eyes, but that wasn't stopping you. You'd been at this thing for days on end, and if you were stopped so close to finishing, you might just explode.

"_! You have a guest! Arthur's stopped by to see you!" You heard your mom call from downstairs. No, no, not now! You began picking up the pace; this was bad, this was really bad! The gift was so close, and he dropped by NOW!?

"Er…coming, mom!" You called back. Just five more stitches. That's all that was left!

There was a knock at your bedroom door. "_, is something the matter? We haven't talked in days. Are you feeling alright?

Four…

"Oh, yeah, sorry! My phone died…twice!" You called through the thin piece of wood that stood as the only barrier between you and Arthur.

Three…

"Oh…well, I suppose that explains it…" he said slowly. "Erm…I'm coming in now, if that's alright…"

Two…

"Sure, come on in…just, uh, wait there for a second! My, uh, my room's messy and there are a few things blocking the door!"

One left…

"Oh…sure…" The confusion was etched deep into his voice.

Done! You quickly tied off the string and snipped off the extra. With a minimal amount of trouble you slipped the design into a dark blue frame and put the backing on, covering up the knots and ends leaving only the finished product.

"Okay, come on in!"

The door slowly creaked open as you grinned with pride and relief. But you didn't get the reaction you'd planned.

"_! What on Earth happened!? Are you ill? Have you been sleeping well!?" Suddenly the Brit was on his knees in front of you, a soft hand on your forehead. He was inches away…you felt heat rush to your face at the sudden close proximity.

"Huh…?" Oh. Right. You'd forgotten about your…appearance.

"No, you don't feel too warm…but you're all red…you must have a cold or something. Here, I'll go make some tea and we can-" He had started to stand up, but you stopped him, grabbing his wrist.

"Er…here." You casually handed him the object you'd taken so long to make. "I…I made it for you."

There was a short pause. The blonde Brit flopped down next to you again, sighing with relief. "You know, _, you really should take better care of yourself…you really had me worried there." But he was smiling, and you soon joined him.

"Well, I'm glad you like it." You said, already knowing how to speak his code. Arthur pocketed the fruit of your labor and checked his watch.

"Ah…I'd better be going. I have to make it back before curfew…" he stood up, making to leave, but he stopped at the door and turned back. "And…Merry Christmas, _."

"Merry Christmas, Arthur." You happily returned, closing your eyes when you heard him leave for some well-earned rest.

~~~~~EXTENDED ENDING OF ENDED EXTENDINGNESS!~~~~~

"Er…_..." Arthur began as you two walked through the park on his invite. "I…I have a Christmas gift for you, too…"

"Oh, really? What is it?" You asked blandly. He stopped under a tree, making you stop with him. "Arthur?"

His face was bright red, and the normal snobbish, stuck-up attitude he carried was gone. His bright green eyes were nervously avoiding yours, and you could see the fog from his breath come out in short, hasty puffs. He managed to make himself move again, for the brief second he needed, and forced his lips onto yours.

It was a swift peck, no longer than a second, but it was enough to make you blush. The snow seemed to disappear, the cold no longer mattered. The only things in this world were you and him. Somewhat shakily, he pointed upwards. You directed your gaze to where his finger pointed and let out a small laugh.

Mistletoe.