Hello! I'm not dead!

It's been a while since I wrote anything, but I'm really looking forward to this story because I love Christmas! Please enjoy and leave a review if you'd like! 3 :)

Arthur walks into the bank early Monday morning with a grimace, partly because of the bright lights affecting his hangover, and partly because of the chirpy christmas music that was blaring from the speakers. Or, well, it probably wasn't blaring, but it sure seemed that way to Arthur. Arriving in his office, he sets his briefcase on his desk in his office, quickly takes out some medicine to hopefully quell his headache, and then sets towards the breakroom to make himself some tea, making a face as the song changes to an even happier one. Before he can make it all the way, a familiar face stops in front of him with a chipper smile, holding two mugs; one filled with coffee, and the other with tea. Arthur smiles.

Alfred had been a friend since he'd gotten the job as the manager of this bank five years ago. Or, well, not exactly right when he got the job. Alfred had been the resident police officer at the bank for about two years before Arthur joined the team. The brit had a hard time trusting random strangers on principle and Alfred had a hard time not making friends. It was an unstoppable force against an immovable object, and eventually Arthur relented, but only slightly. Alfred still barely knew anything about Arthur, whereas Arthur knew almost everything about Alfred. He knew his parents were still happily married, rarely fought, and recently adopted a new, gigantic St. Bernard. He knew that Alfred had an older brother, who was much more reserved than Alfred - Arthur lost count of how many times he said he wished that Matthew worked for him instead. Arthur knew almost every aspect of how Alfred grew up; that he lived in Texas for the majority of his childhood, hence the slight accent, and moved to New York with his family when he was about 17.

Arthur, on the other hand, never gave much information about his own life, despite how long they'd known each other. He couldn't help that the happy-go-lucky lad was an open book and he wasn't. As far as Arthur was concerned, it wasn't really any of Alfred's business as a friend, let alone as an employee of his. The most he could get out of Arthur was that he was born in England - he didn't even give a specific area - and had moved to the states when he turned eighteen to get away from his family. But that was all he would give up. Alfred eventually figured that instead of pressing Arthur about his life, he would just get him interested in his own, and eventually Arthur would come around.

He was right. It took about two years, but he was right.

"Mornin', Artie," Alfred says, handing the mug of tea to Arthur, who rolls his eyes at the pet name.

"It's Arthur, Alfred, for the last time," He says, before taking a sip. He suppresses a pleased smile; Alfred had learned how to make the perfect cup of tea from Arthur a long time ago, but he refused to let Alfred ever know he was correct. He got this stupid smug look on his face and never stopped bragging about how he was right. The last time Arthur let him believe he was right, or that he did something good, he didn't stop hearing about it for three weeks. Alfred, however, had learned that Arthur didn't like when he bragged, so he stopped doing that a long time ago. And every time he gave Arthur the correct mug of tea, he had to stop himself from calling out Arthur's lie; he'd rather the other man not be upset just so Alfred can prove he was right. So, when he fakes a grimace, but continues to drink it as he turns and heads back to his office, Alfred allows himself a small knowing smile. He follows the other man into his office.

"Not good?" He asks innocently.

"Mm, I've had better," Arthur responds, taking a seat. He logs into his computer and starts his first daily task until the bank starts to get busy; checking his emails.

"Hm, really? I really thought I had it this time. Earl grey, five minutes to steep, two teaspoons of sugar, a slice of fresh lemon squeezed into it..." Alfred says, leaning on the doorway. He takes a sip of his coffee as Arthur blushes, stammers a bit, before he pretends to take an unhappy sip of the tea, exaggerating the grimace. He stays silent. Alfred hides his smile behind his mug, allowing himself this one pleasure of teasing the other man without making it obvious that he knew he was right. As much as he wanted to tell Arthur he knew he was right, he hated when Arthur refused to talk to him, so he just let it pass, instead choosing to sit down in front of Arthur's desk, leaning back with a happy sigh.

"Aw, man, I'm so happy we're playing Christmas music now. I wish we played it earlier, but I know how upset people get when places start playing it before Thanksgiving." He says with a laugh. Arthur nods.

"Yes, I insisted that it wait until December began, because last year we got countless complaints…"

"Good idea," Alfred takes another sip of his coffee, humming along to the music playing over the speakers. Arthur sighs, he wanted to tell Alfred to get back to his job, but Alfred would just argue that there was nothing to get back to; besides, he wasn't the only police officer in the building right now. And anyway, as much as they argued, Alfred always won that argument, so it was a moot point.

"I'm excited for Christmas, though. I'm heading upstate to my parent's house this year! I'm gonna meet Shelley and- oh, that's the dog's name, did I tell you that?"

"Yes, Alfred."

"Oh, good. I think I'm gonna get my momma a new cookware set, but I have no idea what to get my dad yet- oh, and Matthew's present has gotta be great because the one he got me last year was amazing! Ah, Matthew's excited for Christmas too, he's bringin' a date, didja know that?"
"Yes, Alfred."

"Sorry," Alfred laughs, but continues blabbering on. Arthur continues to check his emails while absentmindedly listening to Alfred. This is how most mornings began at the bank. Alfred brought them both drinks - he was always here before Arthur, no matter how hard Arthur tried to be early - then sat down and told him about his life; what happened the night before, especially if he'd had a few days off, what was happening soon, any new gossip he'd heard around the bank. And around the holidays, he grew even more talkative, always talking about his family and his friends and how excited he was. Arthur always grew extremely jealous, but he'd just let Alfred ramble on, emitting a few "yes" and "no"s every now and then, glancing up if he paused, answering questions if they came up (though they rarely did), and drinking his tea. When they'd first met, Alfred attempted to do all of this, and Arthur grew fairly annoyed quickly; but over the years, he grew rather fond of these morning chats with his favorite police officer. Of course, he would never admit that to Alfred. He had a feeling Alfred knew, however, because he always sat so comfortably in the chairs in front of his desk, instead of standing in the doorway, talking at Arthur, like he always had in those first formative years.

After a few minutes, Arthur finishes his tea and turns to Alfred to listen more attentively. He was nothing if not polite.

"So, you excited for Christmas?" Alfred asks after a pause.

"Ugh, no," Arthur says, putting his face in one hand with a sigh. "I hate Christmas."

Alfred almost chokes on his coffee, then stares at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Arthur looks up from his mug after a moment, noticing the longer than 2-second silence; a silence around Alfred never lasted long. Had he said something to upset him?

"I'm… sorry, I think I just hallucinated. I thought I heard you say you hate Christmas."

"I do." Arthur says simply, blinking at Alfred.

"What… Whaddya mean you hate Christmas?" Alfred asks in disbelief, staring at the man in front of him. He feels as though he's going to drop his coffee mug, so he carefully sets it down on Arthur's desk. Arthur blinks at him again.

"I… mean I hate Christmas. What about that sentence is so difficult to understand?"

"Well… All of it! How could you possibly hate Christmas!"

"Quite easily. It makes all the shops busy and noisy, people are selfish and only celebrate so they have an excuse to receive presents, and besides, I hate my family, anyway," Arthur says, turning back to his emails. Alfred is silent again, mouth opening and closing over and over again, almost like a fish out of water.

"That's…"

"Alfred, I can't possibly be the only person who has ever told you they hate Christmas."

"You are!" Alfred shouts, making Arthur wince. "Sorry. It's just… Everyone I know adores Christmas and everything about it. We start getting ready for Christmas in September for fucks sake!" Arthur rolls his eyes and finishes his tea.

"That is absurd."

"It is not!"

"And watch your language while on the clock." Alfred rolls his eyes. "Anyway, it is absurd. Don't you Americans have another Holiday in November to celebrate? Why would you start celebrating in September?"

"Well… Yeah, we celebrate Thanksgiving, too, but Christmas is so much better! There's snow-"

"Cold and icy."

"-great music-"

"Repetitive and annoying."

"-you get to spend time with your family-"

"Also annoying."

"-and you get to spread joy and cheer to everyone!"

"Rubbish."

Alfred frowns at Arthur and taps his fingers on his desk. He's known Arthur for five years now, and this is the first time he's heard of this. How is that possible? Well, Arthur never really talked about his family or his home life, but Alfred just always assumed that he did celebrate Christmas. He was just… quiet about it. Everyone celebrated Christmas. He always offers to have Arthur spend Christmas with his family, because he knew he didn't go home to his family in the UK, but the brit always declined. Arthur returns to his computer as Alfred sits there, mouth opening and closing, trying to come up with something to say to piece together the Arthur puzzle.

After a moment, Alfred realizes the other man must just hide himself in his house and lie to Alfred about how his Christmas vacation was. He's always said it was exceptional, that he had a wonderful time away from work; he technically never says anything specific, or anything about his family, but Al had always just… assumed. Now, Alfred felt horrible for bragging about how amazing his Christmas vacation always is; he gets to visit his big family, give all the kids in his family great presents and see their excited little faces light up when they open them, and cook great meals with his mother, and all the little stuff in between. Arthur must celebrate all alone, and not experience all the good things about Christmas, and that's why he hates it!

"Aha!" Alfred shouts, jumping up from his seat, making Arthur jump. The silence had lapsed into five minutes and Arthur had become absorbed in other things. Now his head was pounding. "I've got it!"
"Got what?"

"A plan!"

"A plan?"

"To make you love Christmas!" Arthur scoffs at this, standing up from his desk.

"Alfred, please-"

"No, I'm serious!" Alfred shouts, slamming his hands on Arthur's desk. Arthur glares at him and Al removes his hands. "Sorry. But I am. I'm going to make you love Christmas as much as I do." He pauses. "Well, maybe close to it, anyway." Arthur rolls his eyes yet again.

"Alfred, really, please don't worry yourself," Arthur says, opening his door and standing by it, inviting Alfred to leave. He needed peace and quiet, and, anyway, a few people had started to filter into the bank, so Alfred needed to get started on his own job. Alfred purses his lips in thought, still sitting down by the other's desk. "Alfr-"

"How about a bet?" Alfred says. He smirks when he sees that he's piqued his interest; his eyebrow raised and he presses his lips into a thin line as he thinks, quickly deciding whether or not this was appropriate, Alfred was sure.

"... What kind of bet…?"

"I bet that I can make you love Christmas by the end of December, and if I do, you have to spend New Year's with me-"

"Alright-"

"And!" Alfred smirks, standing and putting his hands on his hips. "You have to tell the entire staff that you love Christmas, and that you were wrong, and I was right." He stands triumphantly, with this big, smug smirk on his face, and Arthur frowns. If Alfred did win, he would absolutely lose the respect of everyone who works for him. Placing such a bet with someone he employs was bad in and of itself, but if he lost and had to admit that Alfred was right, it would be such a low blow to his ego and pride, he wasn't sure he'd be able to recover. Plus, to lose and to have to tell the entire staff…

Then again, all he had to do was not let Alfred win.

"What do I get if you lose?" Arthur asks, raising an eyebrow and standing up straight, as if to show Alfred that he was not afraid of these conditions.

"You name it."

"Hm…" Arthur thinks for a moment, then smirks. "You have to stop bugging me about the holidays, and you have to tell the entire staff that I was right, and that Christmas is overplayed." At this, Alfred frowns and looks around the office, trying to find a reason to object.

"What's the matter, Alfie? Afraid you'll lose?" Arthur says with a smirk. Alfred looks up and shakes his head.

"What? No! Of course not! I'm just afraid you'll lose your pride if you lose." Alfred grins and extends a hand to a frowning Arthur, who shakes it with earnest.

"You'd best start preparing a speech, Artie," Alfred says as he gathers the mugs off of Arthur's desk and walks towards the door. "A concession speech. 'My dear bank employees, I have something wonderful to tell you, my dearest, closest, bestest friend Alfred has shown me the true ways of Christmas and I must inform you that Christmas is just as wonderful as he is!'" Alfred says in an outlandish British accent, mimicking Arthur's, before he makes the sound of a crowd applauding and shouting.

"Oh, shut it, and get to work, you bloody imbecile." Alfred grins as he is pushed out of Arthur's office.

"Just you wait, Artie, I'm gonna make you love Christmas so much you'll start celebrating in July! Christmas in July! Christmas every month! You'll see!"

Arthur rolls his eyes and closes his door, returning to his duties as the bank's manager. As good as Alfred's intentions were, he really got on his nerves sometimes.