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Part One
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Alfred knew from the very beginning that there was going to be something off about this day in general.

To start off with, he had woken up to his clock radio blaring out one of the rare songs he didn't like in the slightest (and it's been permanently scorched into his head for the remainder of the day because of that), his favorite coffee mug lost it's handle in the dishwasher, and his Mickey Mouse tie was nowhere to be found. On his way to work, a cat ran out into the street and in his panic, he swerved right into the path of a perfectly aligned row of nails that must have been the work of some neighborhood kids out to make someone's life hell.

Well, they had, and to make matters worse, one bushy browed twelve year old on his bike charged past the blonde dialing on his cell phone for assistance and kicked him forwards. Alfred fell onto the hood of his car, safe and sound, but his phone slipped from his hand, hitting the asphalt and skid right into an open sewage drain.

By the time he finally made it to work, he wanted the day to be done with. And after getting an earful from his boss, he collapsed into his cubicle and prayed that the day couldn't get any worse.

Apparently his prayers went by unheard, as now he stands in front of a red light blinking printer that refuses to cooperate with him under any circumstance.

"Is that how it's gonna be?" he growls under his breath. "I'm giving you to the count of three to print out my stuff before I go Office Space on your ass."

The printer continues to blink.

"One."

Blink. Blink. Blink.

"Two."

Blink. Blink. Blink.

"Three!"

Blink! Blink! Blink!

Alfred raises his arms up over the machine, ready to pound angry fist and go medieval on it's non-existent ass. Luckily for the printer (and Alfred himself, really) Kiku walks into the small room that houses the mechanism as well as other mundane office supplies.

"Um… Alfred?" he calls out, just as the frustrated blonde was ready to give the first blow. "Are you alright?"

Alfred turns his head in the other's direction, arms still raised and killing aura intact. Kiku's neutral expression gives nothing away as the blonde rapidly straightens himself and tries to laugh off the scene. When that doesn't appear to shake off the awkwardness of the situation, Alfred goes into an explanation.

"Printer wasn't working for me," he says quickly. "Tch, yeah…"

"What seems to be the problem?" Kiku asks him.

Alfred sighs dramatically before going into a tirade of how absolutely horrendous his day has been. Halfway through his rant Kiku finds the time to interrupt when the blonde pauses for a breath of air.

"I meant with the printer," he clarifies.

Alfred blinks. "Oh, um… I don't know, it's just being a jerk."

Kiku tentatively steps around Alfred and moves towards the printer still emitting it's red blink of doom. He presses some buttons, opens a hatch, removes a piece, shakes it a bit, replaces it, covers everything again, presses some more, and sheets of paper come forth in all their glory.

"Thank you very much," Kiku acknowledges to the printer before lifting the warmed up pages from their holding.

He hands Alfred's documents to him humbly enough before taking up his own. He walks out without so much as another word, leaving Alfred to gape at his sheets before throwing a dirty look at the printer and storms out of the closet himself, almost bumping into Ivan and his mail cart.

"Sorry," he apologizes quickly and leaves without hearing if the other replies or not.

He walks back to his cubicle listlessly, a complete opposite of how he would normally behave when out and about the office. Really, all he wants at this point is to make it to lunch without further incident, down a burger or four, and lift up his mood. No further disturbance, nothing else. At least until he's in a better state of mind to deal with them.

However, by the time he reaches his work space, sitting right there in front of his computer, positioned slightly on top of his keyboard, is something that is surely some sort of disturbance in the Force.

A small package wrapped in red and white striped wrapping and a blue ribbon. Seemingly innocent, but with all that's happened in the few short hours since waking up, Alfred approaches it cautiously. After prodding it with a loaned pencil (his own stash of writing utensils had run out some days before and since then he's been borrowing from others with the intent of giving them all back once he bothers to restock) and deeming it safe enough to pick up with his hands, does just that, instantly noticing a small star shape tag hanging off one of the ribbon's end.

He snatches the tag and faces it forward, immediately reading the words: From your Secret Santa.

Alfred frowns considerably at the note. Not because the idea of receiving a gift is somehow undesirable, by all means Alfred isn't one to pass on anything free. He frowns at the very inconceivable notion of not being aware of any sort of Secret Santa arrangement. He addresses his problem to his cubicle neighbor straightaway.

"Hey, Arthur!" he calls out before popping his head over the wall. "Are we doing a Secret Santa thing yet?"

The other male holds up a single finger to keep him from speaking to him further as he finishes a phone call. Once that's done with, he lowers the phone back into it's receiver and turns his direction in Alfred's direction.

"What is it now?" he asks.

"Our Secret Santa thing," Alfred repeats. "We're not doing it yet, right?"

"Not for at least another two weeks, I don't think. You do realize you can't make any purchases without knowing who it is you'll be buying a gift for, right?"

"Yeah, I know how it works. It's just…" He ducks his head behind the wall for a quick moment before reappearing with the small present in hand. "I got this and it says it's from my Secret Santa."

He hands the package out for Arthur to take and inspect on his own. The other does so, looking at it from a different angle before taking the tag up and reading the same words Alfred has only a few minutes ago.

Arthur hands the gift back and says, "Whatever this is, it has nothing to do with the office Secret Santa. A secret admirer, perhaps?"

Alfred takes it back while mock blushing at Arthur's words. "Oh, Artie," he says. "You don't hafta play coy with me, ya know I love ya too."

Arthur turns back to his computer screen, face flushed from the entirely false implication of Alfred's words and says, "Sod off, git, I'm working."

"No you're not, you're playing that Wizardry School."

"I am not!"

"Yeahuh, I can see the Facebook page minimized at the bottom of your screen."

Alfred ducks back down into his own cubicle before he is able to be barraged with a stack of Post-it notes, laughing over the antics of his friend when pushed too far. The whole back-and-forth seems to brighten his day all that much more, and he finds that instead of pondering over what weapon of mass destruction might be lurking behind happy Christmas wrappings sent out to make his life all that much worse, he sits back in his office chair, and tears at the gift from his 'Secret Santa'.

He blinks owlishly at the contents of his gift: A pad of monogrammed paper with his beloved stars and stripes motif faded in the background and a fancy scripted 'A' in the lower right corner, packaged along with a pen and pencil set that has his name engraved on the cap of each one.

A sensible gift, Alfred decides. Nothing frivolous or impractical like the gifts he normally gave and often received, but one that is still thoughtful and the giver obviously had him in mind when choosing it. He appreciates the consideration all the same."

"Huh… Well, thanks, Santa," he mutters to himself. "Whoever you are."

He uncaps the pen and puts it to the notepad and begins to use his gifts to his hearts content, writing out personal reminders and random notes to friends that he then goes around tossing to during the lunch hour. Receiving the unexpected present (even from an unknown source) brightens his outlook considerably for the remainder of the day, and is more than certain that this small bought of happiness is well enough to make up for most of the horrors that occurred earlier.

At least until the next day comes around and Alfred stumbles upon another wrapped up gift containing his lost cell phone with an attached note assuring him that it hadn't fallen into any water, and suddenly the world seems such a perfect place.

Even more so, as when he comes in the next day, there's another gift. Once the weekend passes and the new work week arrives, Alfred continues to receive gifts first thing in the morning consistently for a good week or so, all signed as they had been the first time.

It's unclear how much longer Alfred's Secret Santa intends to rain presents on him, as well as how much longer the giver intends to hide their identity. The whole office buzzes with questions and rumors to answer for them, but there is yet to be anyone able to come up with any circumstantial evidence for those to be proven correct. In retrospect, it's the mystery itself that keeps people talking.

It even becomes the topic of conversation one afternoon amongst Alfred and his usual lunch company as they dine in for their meal at Chotchkie's, if only because Arthur points out that the wallet Alfred now carries isn't his usual one.

"Nope," Alfred says, "Just got it today."

"Newest gift?" Francis asks.

"Yeah!" exclaims the blonde. "Which is pretty awesome, 'cause my old one was fallin' apart."

"It doesn't bother you in the slightest that most of the gifts you receive are centered around items you need?" pesters Arthur.

"Why would it?" Alfred asks back.

"Because I find it a tad strange that your 'Secret Santa' would know facts like those without stalking in some way. It's practically obsessive."

"I beg to differ," Francis comments. "It shows that whoever Alfred's admirer is has a sort of dedication and wants to give what he truly needs. I would do the same."

Arthur throws a hand gesture Francis' way and mutters, "See what I mean?"

Alfred only hums lightly before turning his head to the right and asks, "What d'you think, Mattie?"

He instantly realizes that there is no one sitting next to him.

"Did we forget Matthew again?" he quickly asks the other two.

"He went out to eat with Gilbert," Francis tells him. "He said as much before we left the office."

"I didn't even notice."

"All that aside," Arthur cuts in, "I seriously think you should be more concerned about this."

"They're just presents, Artie," Alfred replies. "It's not like they're leaving me bowls of soup on my doorstep or spying on me while I eat out."

Simultaneously, all three of them look in all directions around the restaurant for any familiar faces hiding behind menus looking in their direction, a little more conspicuously then they really should when looking for a potential stalker.

Once they settle back down, Alfred clears his throat and says, "So… we all thinking I have a stalker?"

"More or less," Arthur answers.

"It may as well just be that you speak too loudly for your own good," Francis tells him. "We were all aware of the state of your wallet after Ivan ran it over with the mail cart."

"That's true," Alfred nods. "Still, it'd be nice to know who to thank, and ask them how they knew where to find my phone."

"You might also get an extra special Christmas present if you confront them, honhonhon~."

"Alfred, scoot over," Arthur says while slipping out of his side of the booth. "I'm sitting next to you instead."

"But I'll be so lonely by myself!" Francis whines.

"That's perfectly fine by me."

"Anyway," Alfred picks up again. "What if we launch our own investigation to find the perp? Observe the rest of the week, congregate over the weekend, and see what clues we can sort out next Monday."

"You just want to see what else you can get out of this person," Arthur grumbles.

"Yeah," the blonde agrees. "I do. But, what d'you guys say? Wanna help me out?"

"May Gilbert and Antonio join?" Francis asks.

"Sure, why not?"

"You're not going to solve anything," Arthur tells him. "Not with that lot."

"Does that mean you're gonna help me, Artie?" Alfred asks, giving him puppy eyes and everything.

Arthur goes on to mutter some sort of round about agreement that makes it seem as though he would only participate in catching Alfred's alleged stalker for the greater good rather the well being of the blonde himself while their waitress brings them their ordered drinks. The conversation takes a pause while they place their orders, and once they're alone again, Alfred lifts his drink up to the two of them.

"Looks like we've got a team ready for a case to solve," he says. "We should probably let Mattie in on it, y'know, at some point."

"You need to work on your toasting skills," remarks Arthur.

"And you need to learn not to drink during office hours."

All the surrounding patrons turn to look in their direction at the sound of clanging silverware and loud swears, just in time to see Alfred laugh while ducking beneath the table and emerge on the other side next to Francis as Arthur fumes in his seat.

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Disclaimer: All I want for Christmas is you~!... and the complete Code Geass series... and some awesome hats I found at this antique store, but mostly Code Geass. What? Lelouch is gorgeous. I always love me a good anti-hero. Unless it's Frodo. Yeah...

-Nothing like an office!AU for the holidays. :3

-Three parts, next we have Alfred and Co. investigating all this 'Secret Santa' business. Hohoho~ what will they come across?

-Considering the labels and all that, I'm pretty sure we all know what's coming. Still... upcoming fluff. And possible office sex, I haven't decided.

-Hmm... I kinda wanna watch Office Space now. Haha~! Today'll be a 90's movie marathon! -runs off-