The country of Ireland is known for its gorgeous landscapes: vast, rolling, green hills, lazing beneath a cerulean sky, settlements and hamlets dotting the view just enough to remind one of the humanity that had found its way into the various nooks and crannies of the world. In the winter, many of these features lie beneath a layer of snow, and yet even then there exists a charming whiteness, as animals huddle together for the season and human children can be seen playing with the cold, fluffy powder. Even as night falls, lights speckle the ground, each one representing a loving family, another warm dinner, another room of ringing laughter as people took time off from work, from school, from obligations of the world, and focused their energies inward, toward loved ones.

Yet there was one night every year where the lights on a certain hill winked out – on Christmas Eve, as a matter of fact – and the hillside remained dark. Not dreary, or, cold, mind you, and certainly not foreboding or ominous. In fact, the darkness was somehow more cheerful than the light. You see, on this day, the residents of the farms and villages on this particular hill dress in their fanciest clothes, and put on their fanciest makeup, and trudge up to the castle on the hill, ablaze with Christmas cheer and enough light and laughter as if to keep the night at bay, more than making up for the darkened rooms of their homes. For the last ten Christmas Eves, without fail, did Fowl Manor host the most extravagant of galas, open to anyone and everyone within a five-mile radius, no questions asked. Once shrouded in intrigue and mystery, the Fowls were now renowned for their generosity, and for their image as a humble family despite the opulence that surrounded them. For the local residents, Christmas Eve was also a day of the exotic and otherworld, as on this day Fowl Manor was also always a host to an exclusive party of the People, fairy creatures whose existence, a decade ago, had once been thought of as myth. Sometimes the Prime Minister himself would make an appearance, his arrival always dramatically announced by a helicopter touching down onto the Manor's own landing pad. Even in the wake of the Great Techno-Crash was the Fowls' status clear as liaison between two civilizations, a fact that did not go unnoticed. Many men sought to bend the ear of the master of the household, Artemis Sr., for advice or business opportunities; many women, the mistress of the household, Angeline, for the latest in London fashion and charity activity around the world. The twins, Myles and Beckett, now in their teenage years and yet still inseparable, were favorites of the townspeople, alternating between ridiculous antics and new household inventions.

But there was one elusive figure of the Fowl household who remained just out of reach, even among the Fowls' elevated status. One who was the real head of the household's finances, acknowledged by Artemis, Sr., who would shrug in the face in some of the more technical questions and direct people towards. One who had his hand in every legitimate charity around the world, recognized by Angeline, who would smile inwardly as she accepted her position as the facade of his generosity. One who was responsible for the two worlds of human and fairy colliding in the first place, with hushed whispers of kidnapping and rumors of pure gold bullion.

Oh, he wasn't a ghost – not anymore, at least, and he hadn't been for a decade. He just didn't enjoy the spotlight so much, often only coming down from his room for the dinner, sometimes catching the tail end of the dance. Once, he had actually stayed for the post-meal reception, answering questions and mingling with the other patrons, an event that still stood out in the villagers' collective memory. Despite his shy demeanor, he always seemed to command attention without trying, with youthful, conventionally attractive features and a casual confidence that seemed to radiate outwards. It was a wonder how one could be both self-assured and socially timid; nonetheless, this strange combination of features made him a prime target for the single women – and some of the single men – amongst the crowd, all of whom secretly or publicly pined for even a second of his attention.

But the young master of the Fowl household would be forever out of reach, for he was always accompanied by a graceful, auburn beauty, her dark skin bringing color in contrast to her partner's paleness. It was difficult to tell whether she was attached to his arm, or he to hers; nonetheless, their love for each other was apparent to all but the densest of observers, and thus much as eligible bachelorettes desired, none dared approach, let alone besmirch, that union. There were even whispers of the woman's identity as one of the People. Some swore they had seen pointed ears peeking out from beneath the red hair; others were certain they had heard the two conversing discreetly in low, guttural sounds, smiling at an inside joke that nobody could hear. For those lucky enough to meet the couple, they came away nonplussed and sometimes intimidated; many had assumed the man to be the front of the relationship, but it was clear through her strong handshake and piercing, wild-looking, heterochromic gaze that the woman was not a dainty flower to be trod on. One particularly astute man had noticed the characteristic bulge of a handgun through her satin dress - perhaps in case more physical persuasion was necessary?

With two figures clad in such rumor and speculation, it was any wonder that they were real in the first place. But real, they were, and human, they were - or so to speak.

In fact, if anyone could see them now, their reverent image of the two would be immediately shattered.

Artemis Fowl the Second (for of course it was he) leaned back into his chair and sighed, pushing away from the keyboard and staring at the ceiling, doing his best to ignore the ringing sounds of music and laughter from below.

"I know that sigh." Artemis turned his head slightly towards the source of the sound, but did not fully look over. He grunted, running his hand through his hair.

"What's up?" asked Holly, as she poked her mismatched irises into his field of view, the corners of her eyes creased in teasing humor.

"Nothing. I'm just complaining to myself." It really was difficult getting any work done around Christmastime.

"Well, you can complain to me, too, y'know. That's what I'm here for."

Artemis smirked slightly. "Do you honestly wish to hear me bemoan yet another one of Mother's Christmas parties?"

"Not particularly, but that's still what I'm here for, and that's ' mom ' to you, Arty, dear." Holly's voice rose in mimicry of Angeline's for the last part of the sentence, eliciting an eyeroll and a groan from the chair.

"Oh, please. That could quite possibly be the one request I will never be able to acquiesce to. It sounds far too...familiar."

"It should be familiar, Arty, she's your mother."

"Well– yes, but–"

"Whatever, come help me zip up." The auburn head disappeared from Artemis' sight.

He sighed again, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "Women," but he stood up regardless. Despite his protests and his aversion to the public, he enjoyed Christmastime and the atmosphere it brought; it was just the public party he disliked, especially since he hated being the center of attention unless he was in control. Privately, however, Christmas was one of his favorite times of year, as it was one of the few instances he allowed himself a moment of respite from the various projects he had around the world.

Each year brought anew an informal gift-giving competition between Holly and the members of the Fowl family. Thus far, Holly was by far in first place; though humanity had rapidly developed new technologies with the People's help, she still had quite the advantage with everyday objects from Haven that far outclassed anything that could be produced on the surface. It was difficult to compete with advanced prosthetics for Artemis, Sr., sustainable nanoweave cloth for Angeline, and the newest in Foaly Labs technology for the twins. Even Butler, in his retirement, had received a ceremonial firearm used back when LEP weapons were ballistic, something he cared for daily and hung proudly on his wall.

But most annoyingly, Holly could never come up with something perfect enough for her own lover, something that Artemis somehow twisted into a sort of personal victory by way considering himself too enigmatic for simple, earthly gifts. Maybe it was his faux-omnipotence personality, but nothing Holly could come up with had struck him dumb, mute with shock and excitement. Always was it a smile, a "thank you," and a hug and a kiss. Even ol' Dom Butler had stopped dead in his tracks upon unwrapping his gilded, platinum-trimmed rifle, and it took something significant to shake him .

But the truth of it was far simpler, something Artemis acknowledged in the back of his head as he walked towards the full-length mirror in the corner, watching as his own disheveled reflection approached Holly's elegant one. She's wearing the green one today , he thought, gazing fondly at the way the elf's long, emerald gown hugged her curves, subtly accentuating her features while still practical enough to conceal a subcompact sidearm with relatively easy access (it was Holly's one condition for even wearing a dress). He cared little for material items, for he was one to make such purchases for himself if something struck his fancy – or to craft it, if such an object did not already exist. Besides, as a man who either had or had access to virtually anything and everything on the planet, wrapped gifts did little to appease his corporeal needs or wants.

No, Artemis valued time . Ten years had passed since his death – since his experiences of time as immaterial, as scarce. He would never forget those excruciating moments that led up to the green dome; how suddenly every second carried weight, yet slipped through his fingers like water as it flowed steadily onwards, uncaring of his desires. Thoughts of Holly had driven him to act; thoughts of Holly, too, had almost stopped him, lingering regrets all but rooting him to where he stood. Back then, there had been so much he wanted to say, and not nearly enough time to say them.

But it's different now , he thought, as he placed one hand on the elf's bare shoulder, the other reaching down towards the dress' zipper, watching Holly's reflection smile slightly at his touch. Now, he had all the time in the world. Resurrection by magical, fairy means had granted him unnatural longevity for a human; though pushing 30, his face remained annoyingly boyish – though according to his mother (and his admirers, judging by how they squealed at the sight of him) it was masculinely handsome. Not that it mattered , he thought, eyes softening slightly in the mirror; clearly, his heart was already enraptured in its entirety.

"Y'know, I'd've thought you'd be better at this sort of stuff."

Artemis made a face. "What, zipping up a dress? It doesn't require that much coordination."

Holly snorted. "No, asshole, parties. Social gatherings and whatnot? Don't you give lectures and talks and such?"

"Well, yes, but that's different. I don't actually have to talk to anyone."

"No, you just like talking at people." She handed Artemis a necklace.

"Well, yes. People are terrifying." He fumbled with the clasp of the chain – thankful that Holly's back blocked her from seeing his clumsiness in the mirror – before holding it in front of her neck.

Holly raised an eyebrow. "This, coming from you ?" She lifted her chin slightly to allow the chain to fall naturally.

"Hey, you're the one with the gun."

Holly snorted again. "Fine, fair. You could also carry one, y'know"

"Oh, please. Even the smallest of pistols would stand out through any clothing I wear. Besides, that's what I have you for." Artemis redid the clasp, brushing lightly against the nape of the elf's neck.

"Riiiiiiight." Holly rolled her eyes, a smirk on her face. She had long ago accepted that she would never win one of these verbal arguments against Artemis, but that didn't take the fun out of it. "Still, the locals basically think you're an angel. Or a devil. Sometimes both, actually. Which is crazy, because I'm literally not human." She examined herself in the mirror, checking her makeup (learned from Juliet after many excruciating sessions), hair, and jewelry, before patting the holster that contained her Neutrino. "I'm ready."

Artemis' face soured. "I can see that." Unfortunately, it did not take him nearly as long to get dressed, and now that Holly was finished there was little reason for him to delay.

"Oh, don't make that face, Fowl. It's just a dinner party, you've been to plenty of these."

"Yes, for the dinner part, not the party part." This year, Angeline had been quite insistent at Artemis' presence from the beginning of the festivities, to his own chagrin.

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to–"

"It's 'tomato', actual–"

"Shut up. Point being, take it easy. Maybe you'll find somebody to bore with a lecture or two. Hey, y'know what, that might keep your swarming admirers away."

Artemis groaned. "Don't remind me. This is precisely why I dislike... mingling ."

"You say that like it's a disease."

"It is a disease. It makes me feel sick."

"Well, as your doctor, I am prescribing you a dose of stop being a wuss and get your butt changed."

Artemis sighed, reluctantly pulling his wrinkled shirt off. "Yes, dear."

"There." Holly pulled the wings tight on Artemis' crimson bowtie, stepping back to admire her handiwork. Artemis was, of course, entire capable of - and more adept at - dressing himself, but he enjoyed the way Holly's tongue stuck out when she was concentrating (not to mention her company), much as it did while she struggled with the bowtie

She turned Artemis towards the mirror. "Looks pretty good, if I say so myself."

"Indeed." Artemis reached over and pulled her closer. She rested a head on his shoulder, admiring the image in the mirror.

"We're one hell of a power couple."

Artemis chuckled in response. "A former criminal mastermind and the LEP's premier maverick? Yes, we are."

"We could take over the world."

"We should take over the world."

"Hm." Holly grunted noncommittally. "Don't tempt me."

Man and elf fell silent, standing side by side, for several minutes, each drinking in the other's presence. Below, the low rumble of conversation grew slowly louder as more and more of the locals entered the entrance hall, sometimes pockmarked with a belly laugh or happy shriek, as people encountered friends new and old.

Artemis sighed inwardly; he suspected Angeline would send someone to fetch him if he failed to turn up in a timely manner, or perhaps even come up the stairs herself. Despite the lack of physical response, evidently Holly could sense his thoughts.

"It won't be that bad," she repeated, stroking his chin.

"I know, I know." Still, he grunted in discomfort. Being amongst a crowd made him feel... vulnerable . Perhaps it was due to Butler's absence, or perhaps some lingering anxieties from his youth. Perhaps he even still derided those who used social gatherings to advance their own agendas, putting on a smiling facade only for as long as it took to prepare the knife in the back.

Once again, Holly demonstrated an uncanny knack for managing to read her partner's mind. "You're still thinking like a mafioso , love."

"Wha– is it that obvious?"

A chuckle. "No. Just that I'm your girlfriend, and a magical creature, to boot. Like I said, it's just in the job description. Look" – she took her head off his shoulder – "what is Christmas about, to you?"

"Family," Artemis replied at once. "But if we join the festivities now, we won't have so much time to–"

"Ah-ah-ah, hang on, Arty. You forget that I'm not part of your family."

"I– Well, that is to say– You might as well be!" Artemis stammered, flushing slightly at what he was implying.

"Oh, sure, but that's not the point. The point is, family means family , not just one other person, yeah?"

"I...I suppose."

"And you would want to make your family happy, right?"

"Yes…" Artemis could see where Holly was going with this. That didn't make him like it any more.

"And as Angeline is part of your family, you would want to make her happy, right?"

"Yes…"

"And going downstairs to meet the guests would be something to make her happy, mm?"

"Yes…" Artemis sighed again in defeat, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You know, I am an adult."

"I know, and I don't care." She kissed him briefly on the cheek. "Come on, it's Christmas! Let's go meet some people, eat some food, the whole ten yards."

Artemis smiled ruefully. "Nine."

"Ah, pish-posh." Holly stopped, then looked him in the eye. "We'll come back after dinner, okay? Like we always do. Change into something more comfortable, et cetera, et cetera. You know the drill."

"I am comfortable in this suit, Holly."

"Oh, you know what I mean!" She nudged him in the ribs. "We can be in sweats, in our underwear, completely nude" – she was gratified to see Artemis flush slightly at that last offer – "watch some trashy movies. Or some good movies, whatever. I'm not needed back until after the new year, you know this. We'll get our time together."

Artemis chewed on his lower lip. He did know, of course, but it certainly helped to have it said out loud. "Of course."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Real confident, Mud Boy. Now c'mon" – she stuck her hand in the crook of his arm – "let's go downstairs before your mother starts yelling at us. Family and Christmas, right?"

A slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips despite himself. "Right."

Author's notes

Whoops, wrote this for the A Spark of Decency Discord server as a fic exchange for Christmas on a certain other popular site, then for some reason apparently never got around to posting it here. Go see if you can't find the collection; it consists almost entirely of similar A/H fluffiness.