It was Christmas eve and Arthur sat in his library sipping wassail and reading 'A Christmas Carol'. In the fireplace was a well stoked fire with a yule log burning brightly, popping every now and then and filling the room with a wonderful aroma. Despite the peacefulness Arthur was far from content. His lover, Alfred F. Jones, was unable to get away from work in order to spend the holiday with Arthur. Arthur had offered to visit the American but Alfred had told him he'd be working through the night and even if Arthur was at his home Alfred would not be there to keep him company. So Arthur stayed in London for Christmas, wishing his lover was there to snuggle with and watch the fire burn to embers with. He smiled softly as he thought of how Alfred would ask if they could roast marshmallows and drink hot chocolate or spiced cider. He imagined how silly his American would be insisting they stand under mistletoe to kiss. He would have dragged in a too large tree to decorate with gaudy lights and decorations. Despite how annoying the American's traditions could be he still missed him and them.

Just then he hears something out to the front of his house. It sounds like singing, but it is only one voice. Curious he gets up and heads to the window and peaks out through the frosted glass. It was snowing softly and a few inches had already gathered to blanket everything in white. But that is not what caught the Englishman's attention. No there standing in the middle of his front lawn was a tall blonde with glasses and bright blue eyes singing. And now that he was at the window he could make out the words to 'I'll be Home for Christmas'. Quickly he hurries over to the front door and throws it open before running out into the frosty night to be caught up in his lover's embrace.

"Hey Artie. Merry Christmas."

Arthur doesn't even bother to correct him on the nickname just glad he was there.

"Happy Christmas to you as well Alfred."

"Hey, why don't we go inside. It's a bit cold out here and I could really go for some of that wassel stuff you always drink for Christmas."

"It's wassail you git. But I do have plenty. Come in and I'll get you a glass."

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Arthur is starring off in shock as Alfred waves a hand in his face to get his attention. "Dude! I think you broke him."

"Really, that wasn't my intention."

"The bloody hell was that? That never happened!" Arthur seethes and Alfred is holding him back from clawing at me it seems, laughing his usual laugh.

"Oh like you didn't enjoy it." Prussia has come up beside me and slung his arm around my shoulder taunting Arthur and causing Alfred to sweatdrop.

"Dude, haven't you ever heard the phrase 'don't poke the bear'?"

And Arthur then rounds on the American holding him back.

Prussia, still beside me laughs in amusement. "So hey kiddo, what was all that stuff you wrote about, the yule log and wassail stuff?"

"Well, they're both are traditional English Christmas things. The yule log is a really old tradition where a log was selected the previous Christmas, dried, decorated with ribbons, wax, spices, and alcohol. They'd then place it on the fire Christmas eve to bring good luck the following year. Wassail is a cider based drink with alcohol and spices mixed in and then warmed. Served on Christmas eve and shared with carolers that come to the door, hence the song 'A Wassailing We Go'. Ok history lesson over, please review."