Argument

In retrospect, it really was all Barbara Streisand's fault.

Ephraim and I were setting up the family tree in the Manchester cottage we always retreated to for the holidays when the radio began playing Barbara Streisand's "Blame It on the Mistletoe."

"I hate mistletoe," I muttered as I pulled a package of glittering ornaments out of a box and began scrounging around for the hooks we'd need to affix them to the tree.

Ephraim paused, a string of Christmas lights, half wrapped around the tree, in his hand. "Since when?"

It was the day before Christmas Eve. The scent of fresh pine was wafting through the room; our cook, whom I could hear bustling about in the kitchen, was making some sort of delectable Christmas treat; snowflakes were tumbling picturesquely outside the window, and somehow all I could think about was that Seth wouldn't be with us this year. Instead, he'd be in some ski lodge somewhere with his girlfriend... doing unseemly things in front of the fireplace no doubt.

I shrugged. "Since always, I guess." I was at my wit's end trying to find the hooks, knowing full well we had some because we'd ordered five new packages last year after not being able to find the ones from the year before; we'd hoped not to repeat the debacle.

"Hmm..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped, cursing under my breath as I cut the tip of my finger on a shattered Christmas bulb buried at the bottom of the box.

"Nothing."

I left off looking for the hooks and instead walked across the room to get a Kleenex to press against the cut. "Oh just spit it out, Ephraim."

"Well... the only reason I can imagine for you to hate mistletoe– a perfectly lovely bit of Christmas paraphernalia, I might add– is that you're jealous."

"Of a plant?" He'd just about finished getting the lights on the tree and, as he turned, I saw a smirk on his face.

"No, and correct me if I'm wrong, dear sister, but you've never actually been kissed– by a non-relative I mean– under the mistletoe or otherwise, have you?" I managed to fling the Kleenex box at him, but he ducked away and it landed harmlessly on one of the stuffed chairs instead. "I'm right, aren't I?" I was eighteen and nine months away from starting college and my brother was perfectly right– which did nothing but make it more annoying.

"Well unlike you," I hissed, "I can't just go picking up a different girl every other night at a sleazy club."

He sniffed. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm hoping to have nieces and nephews some day, you know."

There was nothing close at hand to fling this time. "That's not what I meant." I wasn't unaware of the shrillness of my voice; I was genuinely irritated, but once Ephraim started on something he just couldn't let it lie.

"And I'll have you know the clubs I go to are quite chic. You don't think Seth would really let me go someplace that wasn't on the level, do you?"

I bit my lip to keep from saying anything truly rude. Ever since we'd turned eighteen it had been Seth instead of Forde or Kyle who'd been assigned as Ephraim's bodyguard when he went out on the town. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at my brother, Christmas decorations all but forgotten. It irked me to think what they did when they went out– well I had a good idea what Ephraim got up to, but that Seth accompanied him on these... escapades...

"Oh come on, Eirika," he said, with the cajoling smile the photographers loved so much. He'd smiled like that the last time he'd been featured in People magazine. I rolled my eyes. Ephraim's charm had worn off on me at age four. "You're not really mad, are you? It's stupid to argue about this."

"I'm going out," I said and marched towards the vestibule.

"You know the only reason Seth got assigned to me is that dad knows he's too proper to get into any trouble himself."

My hand froze in mid-air, halfway to my winter coat.

"It's true," said Ephraim consolingly. "He spends the whole night standing around like a coat rack, keeping an eye out for any troublemakers. You know, you should just–"

What my dear brother thought I should do, I didn't get the chance to find out for just then the door burst open and I turned to see a trio of bundled up figures on our doorstep. "Oh. I'm sorry, Mr. King," Kyle said as he spotted us. "We were told you wouldn't be arriving until tonight so we let ourselves in." We usually had a number of our staffers join us for Christmas, the ones like Kyle, Forde, and Seth, who didn't have much family of their own, but, over the years, had become quasi-family to us.

"It's all right, Kyle," said Ephraim. "We came early. Dad won't make it till tomorrow, though. And you know you're not supposed to call me 'Mr. King' when you're not on duty." Kyle stepped in and Forde and his younger brother Franz followed.

I was about to shut the door behind them when I spotted another figure in the driveway. "Seth!" I called out, feeling my irritation melt away at the sight of him. His cheeks were ruddy with the cold and there were snowflakes in his russet hair. I felt rather like a melting snowflake myself when he smiled at me.

He joined us in the vestibule, which was now crowded with half our company security personnel. "I thought you wouldn't be here this year," I said tentatively as I watched him strip off his coat and hang it up.

"There was a..." He paused to clear his throat."Change in plans. I hope you don't mind if I impose on you."

"You're always welcome here, Seth," Ephraim said earnestly. "You're family, you know. The whole lot of you!" he added and proceeded to lead everyone to the kitchen to get some fresh-brewed coffee for the new arrivals.

We were all settled in the livingroom when Ehpraim went ahead and asked, "So what happened to Nathasha?"

I was blushing on his behalf. Honestly my brother's lack of tact sometimes... And to think he was supposed to someday be at the head of a boardroom!

Seth, who'd been hovering in the corner, glancing at boxes of Christmas decorations, looked startled. He cleared his throat. "We aren't seeing each other anymore."

Giddiness, quickly followed by guilt, swept through me.

"What happened?" Ephraim pressed, heedless of Seth's discomfort. But I could see the way his whole body tensed. Seth hated talking about his private life; he always had.

"She was offered a position at the University of California, San Francisco Medical Center. It was the position she's always wanted."

"When was this?"

"She started there two weeks ago."

"Ah. I'm sorry to hear that." I was glad it was Ephraim who said so; I didn't feel able to say it myself. Even if it was selfish, I was happy that Seth would be here with us for Christmas... instead of in front of a crackling fire with her.

ooo

Christmas day was bustling with laughter and familiar faces– just how we liked it. The tradition had started when Ephraim and I were very young, after our mom died. Holidays were too quiet without her so my dad, I think, had tried to fill the void with friends since we lacked family.

The decorations had been put up after all, my tiff with Ephraim soon forgotten once the boys and Seth had arrived. There was Christmas music, eggnog (with a smidgen of brandy perhaps), and shortbread cookies. Even Seth, who'd looked a little dour when he thought no one was looking his way, cracked a smile. Ephraim and I took on the role of humble hosts and benefactors handing out gifts and embarrassing our security personnel with our generosity; that, too, was a tradition, one dad had begun with his traditionally overlarge Christmas bonuses for those who kept us safe year-round.

Ephraim and Forde were poring over Franz's new laptop, dad was showing Kyle the new features on the latest Blackberry model, and Seth was hovering a few paces behind the couch, leaning against the doorframe, when the trill of a cell phone cut through the Christmas cheer. It was dad's, the one he used for private matters; he'd turned off his office phone for the day.

"Vigarde! Merry Christmas! How's Tuscany? Is Lyon feeling any better?" We'd often shared our Chrismas dinners with our friends from Grado Ltd., but Lyon hadn't been well of late and his dad had thought maybe a vacation in Italy would help perk him up. "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. Send him our love, will you?" He paused for several moments and then, "We really shouldn't talk business today. It's Chris– Well if you're sure it'll only be ten minutes..." He glanced our way and Ephraim rolled his eyes and shooed him towards his office.

I took the opportunity to join Seth; standing against the doorframe the way he was, it seemed as if he wasn't quite sure he should be here. I wished that he could just be comfortable, that he could feel like family.

He smiled as he saw me and my pulse quickened.

"I got you something," I said, reaching into my pocket and producing a small package wrapped in bright red paper. "I was going to wait until I saw you back at the office, but since you're here..." It was so typical of him to look surprised. Every year he received a present and every year he seemed not to expect it. I wanted so much to throw my arms around his neck and tell him that he was more to us than just an employee, that he was more to me...

"I– Thank you, Miss K–"

"Ah!" I cut in.

"Thank you, Eirika," he amended and proceeded to meticulously unwrap the package, whereas my brother or Forde, for instance, would have simply shredded the wrapping in seconds. Setting the wrapping paper aside, he hesitated a moment before opening the black velveteen box. I watched his eyes widen as he did finally open it. A pair of cufflinks, each with a cut sapphire ringed with yellow and white gold: I'd picked them out just for him.

"I thought you could use a new pair for all those parties you have to dress up for at work." Seth was nearly always in attendance as a member of security when my father held formal events and even security had to sport a suit or, on occasion, a tuxedo. "You'll be the most dashing bodyguard in the company with these."

He looked almost pained. "How much did you–"

"Oh don't worry," I said patting his arm. I was heir to a fiber-optic company; it was adorable that he worried about my finances. "It's nothing I can't afford."

He raised an eyebrow. "You can afford a small country."

"Not until I turn twenty-one and get my trust fund," I said with a wink.

I spun on my heel as a piercing whistle startled me. I was more than a little distressed to find the boys and my brother all staring in our direction. "You two," Forde announced, "are in contravention of Christmas tradition."

"Forde, what are you..." I trailed off as I saw my brother pointing at something above me, his eyebrows raised and a not very well concealed smile tugging at his lips. I followed the direction of his gaze to find a sprig of mistletoe hanging in the doorway above our heads. I could feel the blood running into my cheeks immediately. When had that gotten there? I certainly hadn't hung it up.

"Well," Forde drawled. "What are you waiting for? And none of that kiss on the cheek stuff either."

Seth looked quite stricken and I wanted to strangle my brother's bodyguard for embarrassing him when he was already uncomfortable to begin with. "Honestly, Seth," Ephraim said archly when neither one of us moved, "you don't have to look so horrified. I mean what's so wrong with my sister?"

"This is ridiculous," I said. "He doesn't have to if he doesn't want t–" But then all at once Seth was leaning towards me, his fingers tilting my face up toward his, and before I was quite certain what was happening he'd pressed his lips against mine.

Even years later I could never say for sure how long we stayed like that– it couldn't have been more than a few seconds– but when he drew back and I opened my eyes I was clutching the front of his shirt because I felt like my knees might give out at any moment. I took a breath and stepped back, leaning against the doorframe, eyes fixed on Seth, my fingers pressed over my still-tingling lips. "Merry Christmas, Miss King," he whispered. And then he disappeared into the kitchen with some excuse about eggnog.

While the others returned to inspecting their shiny new gadgets, Ephraim sidled over to me, looking as smug as a cat who'd feasted on a very fat canary. "So... I'm willing to bet you don't hate mistletoe anymore."

"You! Did you–"

"Consider it a Christmas gift," he said with a wink and then sauntered off looking far too pleased himself.

My brother I had to forgive eventually; Barbara Streisand, however, was another matter entirely. Though it was true that I never did mind mistletoe so much after that...

A/N: Because everyone should get to write a Christmas fic just once, right? Right?;P

On a sidenote I was really surprised by the varied responses people have to the idea of real-world AU. It's interesting that some people get really excited about while others are sceptical. Anyway, I hope this was of amusement to someone in any case.