Chapter 9: Christmas


When Arthur woke on the morning of Christmas Eve, he thought at first that he was in his own bed, because why else would Alfred be pressed against him? He was disoriented for a moment, but then he remembered, and practically shot out of bed. "Alfred," he hissed.

"Mm?" Alfred said, and snuggled closer.

"Alfred! You're supposed to be in your own room. Get up!"

"What?" Alfred opened his eyes and squinted at him.

"What if your parents come up here to wake you up? They'll see!"

"So what," Alfred mumbled, and buried his face in Arthur's waist.

"This isn't – proper," Arthur said, trying half-heartedly to push him away. Alfred just put both arms around his waist and clung all the more tightly. "So help me God, if your parents think we've had sex in their house, I will leave and never come back."

Alfred looked up. "Wait, we can't?" he wailed.

"You're acting like a teenager," Arthur told him crossly. "Of course we can't. And you can wait. You'll survive."

"But it's five days!" Arthur just looked at him. "Okay, okay." Alfred patted around on the side table until he found his glasses. He kissed Arthur – a long, lingering kiss that made Arthur not mind him being there so much – and then put on his glasses and slipped out of bed. "I'll use the shower first," he said, and left.

Arthur considering lying back down in bed, but he knew he should get up. By the time Alfred was out of the shower, Arthur had unpacked as much as he was going to and had neatly arranged his books on the bedside table. Alfred looked impressed. "Shower's free."

Arthur looked up. "Thanks."

They had pancakes for breakfast, with maple syrup and whipped cream. All the sugar nearly made him gag, but he decided that it really wasn't half bad. When they were done, Alfred showed him around the yard ("Are there actually flowers blooming?" Arthur asked, shocked. "Yeah, dude, it's the rainy season," Alfred told him. "We don't get snow here.") and then they spent the rest of the day cooking. Arthur found himself relaxed despite the work. He felt like he was part of Alfred's family. They watched a western movie for Arthur's benefit, as if he had never seen an American movie before, and then went to bed. Arthur thought about putting his present for Alfred under the tree (which was at least 12 feet tall and covered with lights and mismatched ornaments), but he decided that he would prefer to give it to him in private. He convinced Alfred to sleep in his own bed that night, and read a little before he fell asleep.

Alfred woke him up with a kiss the next morning. "What time is?" Arthur asked groggily.

"6:30," Alfred replied happily. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas to you too," Arthur mumbled. Alfred tried to get him to come downstairs in his pyjamas, but Arthur refused. He tried to change quickly, though, and when he was done Alfred grabbed his hand and practically pulled him down the stairs. "How long have you been up?" Arthur asked.

"Since 5. I've already checked out all the presents. There are only two I'm not sure about," he said, grinning.

Alfred's parents had apparently already been woken up, as they were sitting in the living room drinking coffee in their robes. Alfred seated himself on the floor, and Arthur joined him. The dog came over and sniffed at Arthur. He patted its head and it curled up between him and Alfred. Alfred began to pick presents out from under the tree and assign them to their respective recipients. "Mom and dad," he said, throwing it in their direction. "Alfred, Mom and dad again, Arthur." He tossed it at Arthur and he caught it automatically.

"Excuse me?" Arthur said, staring at Alfred in surprise.

Alfred smiled at him. "It's from me. You can open it later or whatever, but you should have it."

"Oh," Arthur said, feeling bad that his gift for Alfred was still upstairs. He held it gingerly in his lap as Alfred distributed the rest of the gifts.

" – and Arthur."

Arthur turned bright red as he caught this one. "It's from us," Joyce said with a smile.

"Oh," he said quietly. "Thank you."

"And two more for Alfred!" he cried gleefully. "I'll start." Alfred ripped the paper away and dealt with the tape on the box expertly. "Books from Aunt Jenna," Alfred said, and put them aside. He looked impatiently at his mother, and after she and his father had each had a turn, they all looked at Arthur expectantly. He flushed and ripped away the red paper from the gift from Alfred's parents.

"I know we haven't known you that long," Joyce said, "but, well, Alfred's never brought any of his boyfriends home before. We figure you deserve a little something."

Arthur gently took the lid off the small box. Inside was a traveling book light. It wasn't something Arthur needed, but the gesture meant a lot to him.

"I told them you liked to read," Alfred said.

Arthur nodded. "Thank you," he said to his parents with feeling. He put it back in its box and watched as Alfred ripped open another present.

After a few cycles, Alfred came to a box wrapped in dark blue paper covered with delicate silver designs. He glanced at the label. "Ah! Matty!" he exclaimed with a smile, and tore it open. Arthur glanced at his parents; they were smiling too. Arthur watched closely as Alfred unwrapped a long, knitted scarf. It was midnight blue and had a delicate pattern of snowflakes at each end.

"It matches your hat and mittens, doesn't it?" Alfred's father asked.

"Yup," Alfred said, and put it in his mother's outstretched hand. She admired it and handed it back.

"What is he going to give you for Christmas now?" she asked with a laugh. "Matching socks?"

Arthur asked to have a look at it, and Alfred handed it to him casually. "So by handmade, he meant that he made it?" he asked, examining it, trying to see past the stitches. It must have taken him a long time. He looked at the wrapping paper. And everything matches? He must be a very thoughtful person. I'm not this dedicated.

"Yeah, he's always been modest like that. He always makes me something." Arthur handed it back to him and he tossed it in the pile with his other gifts. Arthur frowned.

"I miss that boy," Joyce said. "You were like brothers."

"My first crush," he said with a smile at Arthur. Arthur started, forgetting for a moment that he could say something like that here.

"It's a pity he moved before you told him," Joyce said. Alfred shrugged. Arthur looked at him, suddenly seeing him in a new light. Does he regret it? Suddenly he felt out of place in this family. He was aware of how much he didn't know about Alfred, about all the experiences he had had that he knew nothing about. He pulled into himself and watched as everyone began to gather up the scraps of wrapping paper. He looked down; Alfred's present to him was still in his lap.

Alfred put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on," he murmured. "You can unwrap it upstairs." He led Arthur back to his room. He sat down on his bed and patted the spot next to him, but Arthur left the present there and disappeared into his own room. He returned with his own present for Alfred, two small boxes neatly tied together with a ribbon.

"You go first," Alfred said.

"No, you," Arthur said with a smile, because he could tell Alfred was dying to open his present. Alfred didn't protest. He happily undid the ribbon and popped open the smaller of the two boxes.

Arthur watched his face closely. It was puzzled for a moment as he held up the plain key to the light, but then he smiled in that way that made Arthur's heart feel as though it would burst. He pulled Arthur close to him, and Arthur smiled into his shoulder. "It's to your apartment, right?" Alfred said. Arthur just nodded. Alfred released him, and kissed him, and stuffed the key in his pocket. Arthur wanted to protest, but Alfred always kept his keys there and never seemed to loose them. "It's perfect." He couldn't seem to stop smiling as he picked up the second box and unwrapped it. It was a thin white box, and inside was a white collared shirt. It had been expensive, and the tissue paper that it was wrapped in was decorated with the company's logo. Alfred tore through it without a second glance and Arthur winced. Alfred's smile disappeared and was replaced with an expression of puzzlement as he saw the shirt and picked it up, a little gingerly. He turned it this way and that, his brows furrowed. Finally he gave up and raised his eyebrows at Arthur with an apologetic smile. "Sorry man, I don't know what this one means."

"It means we're going to go out to dinner somewhere nice one of these days, and you'll need something to wear," Arthur told him in a reprimanding tone. "Your golf shirts don't cut it."

"Aw, man," Alfred said with a grin. He gave Arthur another hug. "You may be weird, but I like you."

"Thanks," Arthur said dryly, and returned the hug. When they parted he picked up his own present and undid the wrapping paper. Inside the box were two books and a very small bag. He took out the first book and flipped it over. It was a book he had never heard of – some kind of mystery novel, it seemed – which he was pretty sure Alfred had picked completely randomly. The second one, though, caught his eye.

"It's a collection of myths from the US," Alfred said. "I had a hard time finding one that wasn't all ghosts, but this seems to have some other kinds of stories in it. I noticed you have a lot of stuff like that from Britain, but none from other countries."

"Yeah, thanks," Arthur said, a little surprised that Alfred had noticed. He flipped through the pages. "It looks really interesting." Alfred just grinned and gestured towards the last thing in the box. Arthur picked up the small drawstring bag and dumped its contents into his palm. A small, smooth stone fell out. It was a pretty grey-lavender colour with a smoky surface, and wire had been wrapped around it in a swirling design. It was probably intended as a pendant on a necklace, but it made a nice keepsake.

"The guy at the shop said it was a magical stone," Alfred said, sounding embarrassed. "I don't believe him or anything, but he said it was from England. It just seemed like something you might like."

Arthur looked at it again. A little piece of home. He closed his fist around it and smiled. "It's very pretty. You're right, I do like stuff like this."

Alfred looked relieved. "Cool."

Arthur kissed him gently. "Thank you very much," he whispered softly.

"You're welcome," Alfred whispered back, looking earnestly at Arthur with his big, blue eyes. Arthur felt completely, utterly relaxed.

Unfortunately, that was the last time he felt that way for the rest of the day.


At about three in the afternoon, the guests started arriving. Arthur suddenly wished that he had been paying attention to Alfred on the plane, because he was quickly drowning in names and faces. Alfred was the only thing that kept him afloat, never leaving his side, always smiling and talking and making sure (whether purposefully or not) that Arthur never had to do more than say his name and smile. Arthur wanted to retreat to the kitchen, but that would mean being separated from Alfred, and as he glanced in that room he noticed that it was full of people, too. When it was finally time for dinner, Arthur found himself seated between Alfred and a four-year-old girl with brown hair. When he asked, she told him her name was Suzie.

"That's a nice name," he said, because Alfred was talking to his relatives and he did not have anyone else to talk to.

"Thank you," Suzie said, looking at him with large, unblinking brown eyes.

"I'm Arthur."

"Hello," she said. "Are you Alfred's boyfriend?"

"Er," Arthur said, nearly dropping his fork.

"That's what my mom said."

"Yes," he said. "I am."

"Oh," she said, and returned to her food.

Arthur lasted about another five minutes of eating with his eyes carefully focused on his plate before anyone tried to talk to him.

"So Arthur," Joyce said, who was sitting across from Alfred, "My sister just asked me how you and Alfred met, and I realised that I don't know."

"Oh, I see," Arthur said, and nudged Alfred with his toe.

"What?" said Alfred, spinning around, and then he caught on. "Oh, yeah. We met at a club."

You were supposed to come up with something less embarrassing! Arthur thought, but gave Joyce a strained smile of agreement. "Oh," she said, directing her attention to Alfred with a slight frown. "What kind of club?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, a normal one?" He turned back to his previous conversation and ignored the two of them.

The woman next to Joyce, who Arthur assumed was her sister, leaned towards him with a smile. "Did our Alfred get picked up by an Englishman? How lucky."

"Other way around, actually," he said, and tried to look very interested in his food.

"Oh really?" she said with a grin. She apparently prodded Alfred under the table, because he looked around again. "I hear you picked up your boyfriend."

Alfred grinned back. "Yup."

"I didn't know you were into older men," she said with a wink.

"Speaking of," Joyce said, looking interested, "how much older is he, exactly?"

"Mom," Alfred said, finally looking embarrassed. "Don't be rude."

"I'm just curious," she said defensively.

Alfred's father, who was sitting directly across from Arthur, turned towards their conversation as well. "I've been wondering that too," he said seriously, pointing at Alfred with his fork.

"Dad," he whined. "Stop it."

"Alfred, we do still have an interest in your future. We want to know these things," said Joyce.

Arthur had gone pale and was having a hard time eating. Alfred was still shovelling down food, but he was starting to look a little bit angry. Alfred's father turned towards Arthur. "How long have you been living in the US?" he asked, apparently thinking he was changing the topic.

"Seven years," Arthur said, trying to come across as calm and in control.

"What did you move for?"

"Work." Alfred's father looked at him in a strange way before nodding and returning to his food. Arthur realised his mistake a moment too late; if he had moved for work seven years ago, he was probably at least 29. He could feel anger working its way up his spine. Why do I have to put up with this? This is Alfred's family, not mine. What does it matter what I do with my life? He jabbed viciously at a stray piece of potato.

"Arthur," said Alfred's voice, quietly. He looked up. "Would you like some bread?"

"Yeah, thanks," he said, and took a piece. Alfred's hand brushed against his in a way that didn't seem accidental, and Arthur looked up. Alfred gave him a little smile and mouthed, "It's okay." Arthur nodded in answer and returned to his food. As they neared the end of dinner, Arthur heard a sigh and his name. He looked up and saw Joyce looking at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," she said. "Alfred has just never –"

"Mom, don't make it sound like it's my fault. It doesn't matter how old he is!"

"Alfred, we know you're out of college, but we're still your parents," his father said sternly. "We're just looking out for you."

"I can look out for myself just fine," Alfred said, looking really angry. "He –"

"It's alright," Arthur said quickly, and he stood up. He picked up his plate and examined the tablecloth closely. "I'm 33." He disappeared into the kitchen, and didn't come out for a long time.

When Alfred walked into the kitchen with his own plate, he found him leaning against the counter with a glass of water. "Enjoying yourself okay?"

"Yeah," Arthur said, not meeting his eyes.

"Cool," Alfred said happily, and put his plate in the dishwasher.

When it was time for dessert, Arthur found himself in the same place. He carefully avoided looking at either of Alfred's parents, and they didn't make an effort to talk to him. He saw the little girl looking at him and smiled at her. "Doing okay?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "You're old. You're older than my mom."

"Heh, is that right?" Arthur asked with a strained smile, trying not to be too injured. She's four, it's fine. It's not like she's really judging you. The girl's mother had heard the comment and told her not to be rude. She insisted she hadn't been being rude, she had been telling the truth. Arthur smiled at the mother and told her that really, he didn't mind. She apologised for her daughter anyway.

After dessert everyone sat about and talked for a long time. Arthur found a spot on a couch and sat down, trying to not look too tired. Alfred found him after a while and plopped down beside him with a sigh. "Long night, huh?"

"Yeah," Arthur said.

"Hey, what's up?" Alfred asked, leaning forward with a worried look in his eyes. "You've been seeming kind of down."

"It's nothing," Arthur said. Just then a relative of some kind spotted Alfred and made a beeline for him. Arthur got up subtly and left. Alfred was already too busy talking to notice.

The living room was mostly empty. The golden retriever had apparently also had enough of the party, because she was stretched out next to the Christmas tree. Arthur squatted down beside her with a smile and patted her head. "Hey girl, you worn out too?" She panted at him happily and nosed at his hand for more. He settled down beside her and began to stroke her head. "Well, my boyfriend has forgotten about me. I guess you don't really have that problem." She rested her nose on his leg with a sigh. "Though, I don't know. Do people forget you sometimes?" He was suddenly aware of footsteps nearby and looked up. It was the little girl, Suzie, again. She came and stood in front of him, hands clasped in front of her. She was looking at him seriously. He stilled his hand.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it was rude to call people old," she told him. "I won't call you old again."

He looked up and saw her mother standing in the neighbouring room. When she saw him looking she turned away. "Thank you," he said, looking at Suzie just as seriously. "I accept your apology."

She nodded once and crouched down beside the dog, as if the formalities had been taken care of. She fearlessly let the dog sniff her fingers and then began to pet her side. Arthur watched her in silence. Things make so much more sense with children, he thought. Everything is so straight-forward.

"My mom said you're from England, where you have real tea parties," she said suddenly. "She also said that some people have tea with the Queen." She hesitated. "You haven't had tea with the Queen, have you?"

"No, I haven't," he said, trying not to smile. "Do you have tea parties?"

"Yes, but not real ones," she said condescendingly. "Just pretend."

"Right," he said, and this time he couldn't help smiling.

She looked down at the dog. "My mom says that maybe the next time we see you, you could come to my tea party."

"I would like that," he said kindly. She nodded.

"Come on sweetheart, we should get going," her mother called. "Say goodbye."

"Goodbye," Suzie said.

Arthur stood up. "Goodbye," he returned, and watched her run off. He spotted Alfred nearby, shaking hands and hugging and saying goodbyes. Alfred saw him watching smiled. He managed to separate himself from the crowd and made his way over to Arthur.

He crouched down next to him and petted the dog. "I saw you talking to Suzie. You're good with kids."

Arthur smiled. "Yeah, I like her. She seems like a good kid."

"Do you want kids?"

Arthur looked up, wondering if Alfred meant that he did and ready to become panicked, but the worried expression on Alfred's face made him laugh. "No, not really. I was serious about the cat, though."

"Oh, okay," Alfred said, looking a little relieved. "You like animals?" He gestured at the dog.

Arthur looked at her with a smile. "Yeah, I do like animals. I wish my apartment complex would let me have them."

Alfred stood up and offered him a hand. He reluctantly took it. Alfred headed back to the crowd of people and Arthur followed. He joined Alfred in offering the occasional smile and wave to all these people he didn't know. When the last person had finally left and Alfred's mother closed the door behind them, Alfred put an arm around Arthur and fell against him with a heavy sigh. Arthur looked at him in surprise and then put an arm around him awkwardly.

"If you help me clear the rest of the table, you can get to bed," Joyce told him, and Alfred pulled back reluctantly.

"I know, I know," he said, and stumbled off to clear the last of the dessert dishes. Arthur watched him, slightly concerned. He was so cheerful a minute ago. What happened? He helped do the last of the cleaning up, and once they were finished Alfred immediately dragged him off to bed. "You're sleeping with me tonight," Alfred told him firmly once they were upstairs. "I don't care if it's your bed or mine, but I'm not letting you go."

"Okay," Arthur said, eyeing his dazed look and slumped shoulders. "Why are you suddenly so tired? You were so energetic a half an hour ago."

"Eh, whatever," he mumbled as he disappeared into his room to find his pyjamas. "I was just being nice."

"You really care that much about what other people think?" he asked as Alfred headed for the bathroom.

"I wouldn't say that," Alfred said over his shoulder. The door clicked shut.

"Huh," Arthur said, a teasing smile forming on his face. "Imagine that."


Author's note: Nom nom. Sorry for all the OCs. I hate OCs in stories like this, ugh, but they just seemed necessary. Next chapter should be better. -.-'