"Goooood morning, everyone! It is currently six AM and I am on my third cup of coffee! Today is gonna be a cold one, with a high of ten degrees and a low of negative twenty, so bundle up!"

Arthur wakes up exhausted, with crusty eyes and a sore throat, slamming his hand on the radio for the first snooze. He'd gotten maybe an hour of sleep, the rest of it spent crying and cursing and tossing and turning, overthinking and over-analyzing everything that had just happened. He couldn't stop thinking about everything he said. Did he really say that Alfred had treated him like a poor lowlife, without a loving family, and that he was just pitying him? He... He still felt like that was true. The aching in his heart when he remembered what Mrs. Jones had said reminded him that he had in fact said that. He had in fact had a million thoughts racing through him and he did, in fact, say that. He kind of regretted it, but he also kind of... didn't.

Throughout the night he'd tried to convince himself that he'd overreacted. He'd glance at his phone, full of notifications titled "Alfred Jones", and try to convince himself that he should apologize to Alfred. But then he'd remember how Alfred laughed at him when he fell on the ice, embarrassed beyond belief. Then he'd remember how Alfred brought him to the library and forced him to dress up as an elf, then had the audacity to call him cute. Then he'd remember how Alfred let him get drunk at the Christmas party and how he didn't remember most of that night and he just kept thinking about how much he must have been laughing at him, how much he probably enjoyed seeing the usually strict Brit let loose and have fun and humiliate himself, and...

But then... he'd remember how sweet he was when he told him about his childhood, and how he never had a good Christmas. Then he'd remember how he looked at him when he was concussed and dopey. Then he'd remember how warm he was when they were waiting for the Christmas tree to light up. How close he'd gotten during the snowball fight. How he gazed down at him with those damned beautiful baby blues, and...

Groaning, Arthur turns over and pulls a pillow on top of his head. This was exactly why he hadn't gotten any sleep last night. This was all that was racing through his head, thoughts of how Alfred had embarrassed him and enjoyed it, then thoughts of how much he genuinely enjoyed Alfred's company. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't figure any of it out. What was wrong with him?

He felt cheated. Lied to. Humiliated. As if he was just some cheap way for Alfred to feel better about himself, even though deep down he knew that wasn't the case. The way Alfred looked at him, the way he treated him, the way he was so patient with him, it was all so... genuine. But he couldn't dismiss the possibility that it wasn't. And that was exactly what scared Arthur and sent him in his usual spiral.

The alarm clock sounds again and startles Arthur. He slaps a hand on top of it, then spends a few moments to collect himself. He wipes away the crusty bits by his eyes, then rolls out of bed, stands up, and gets ready for work.

Steeling himself as he parks near the bank, Arthur's hands grip the steering wheel tightly as he figures out his next move, step by step. He had no idea what to expect. Would Alfred continue begging him to listen? He wasn't sure he could deal with that today. He didn't want to hear it. He needed time to figure out what had happened, even though Alfred didn't want to give him that time, just wanted to explain himself and his family and the dinner and- ugh. He'd lost count of how many texts he'd gotten from the other man, how many calls and voicemails he'd left. He stopped looking at them when he went to bed. Or, when he tried to go to bed. He was sure he looked like absolute shit from the few hours of sleep he'd gotten.

With a deep sigh, Arthur ignores the mirror as he steps out of his car and locks it. A few steps further, he enters the bank, and glances around, a bit nervously, for the taller man, but… he wasn't there. Maybe he was running late? Alfred was never late, though. Never early, either, however, Arthur notes with a quick glance at his watch. He was always right on time, completely perfect and never missing a day unless he was violently ill. The thought turns his stomach and he quickly shakes his head to get rid of the feeling, quickly entering his office and shutting the door.

He takes off his jacket and sets it on the coat rack, then puts his bag down next to his computer. But everything feels like it's going slower than normal, for some reason, and he finds himself glancing up at the door every now and then. He's still waiting for Alfred, he realizes, still waiting for the routine to pick up, still waiting for that damned smiling face to burst through his door with some sort of amazing news like he normally has.

With a groan and a bite of his lip, he whips open his door - much to the surprise of the few employees near him - and stalks off to the break room to make himself a cup of tea. He hasn't had to make himself a cup of tea in the mornings for years; he's taken Alfred for granted, it seems… He frowns, frustrated at the thought that he'd become so used to someone else taking care of him, as if he wasn't a grown adult that could make his own tea in the mornings.

The break room is filled with a few more employees, waiting for the bank to officially open to take their places as the tellers; they all look up with a wide eyed look as Arthur enters and puts his back to them, facing the sink and all of the fancy gadgets along the counter. Come to think of it, he doesn't think he's made a cup of tea at work at all. Prior to Alfred making him tea every morning, he'd bring his own tea from home. It only stopped when Alfred discovered he'd forgotten one morning. And then he took it upon himself to make him tea every day, whether he'd brought his own from home or not. Looking at the counter, his eyebrows furrow as he tries to figure out how to work everything. What in the hell is he supposed to do with that container? Where does the water go? Is there even any tea bags in this blasted place?

"Uh," Someone finally breaks the silence. "Mornin', Arthur." He half-heartedly waves a hand in response, still staring at everything on the counter. Maybe if he… No, that wouldn't work, would it? Oh, the water must… No…

"Dammit," He groans and turns around to them. "Does anyone here know how any of this works?" He demands, waiting for the onslaught of snickering and jabs at his ego; however it doesn't come. Instead, they all look at him with eyes still wide and mouths hanging open slightly in shock. One person clears their throat.

"Uh… Well, you just put the coffee pods in-"

"No, I don't want coffee. I hate coffee. I want tea." He demands again, annoyed at the fact that he has to explain himself again - another thing he'd grown so used to was Alfred just knowing these things about him - and watches in surprise as still no one snickers. One of them nods and stands, walking over to the counter. They reach up into one of the tall cabinets and pull out a container full of tea bags.

"Alfred brought these in, so I guess you could probably use them." Arthur's heart sinks but he nods. He'll have to bring in his own so he doesn't have to use Alfred's from now on. He feels kind of bad as he realizes the other man must have been spending his money on these stupid tea bags this entire time. For years. Slowly, he leafs through them and picks a random one out; he just doesn't want to look at them anymore.

"So, like, if you just want hot water, you just gotta take the pod out. You might wanna run it once to get rid of any coffee taste, but…" The employee whose name he can't remember shows him how to run the stupid machine, then smiles happily at him. Arthur just nods in response, then sets on making his own mug of tea.

Eventually, after a few trial and error processes, he makes his way back to his office. On his way, he runs into Alfred, who's still wearing his jacket and looks like hell.

"Alfred," He greets with eyebrows raised. "You look-"

"Sorry I'm late, Mr. Kirkland," He says formally, quickly taking off his jacket with barely a glance in his direction. "Car troubles." Arthur closes his mouth. Mr. Kirkland? Since when does he call him that? He's never called him Mr. Kirkland, not even when he was first hired, not even when Arthur insisted on it, and especially not after they'd become friends…

Well, that answers his question. This is how it was going to go. Alfred wasn't going to call him Artie anymore, let alone Arthur. He wasn't going to greet him with his wide, happy-go-lucky smile and a new story from the weekend. He wasn't going to tell him about his family and make Arthur feel green with envy. He wasn't going to slip into his office every hour to check on him.

He wasn't going to be his friend anymore.

The realization sends Arthur's heart plummeting, and instead of standing around for any longer, he just shakes his head at Alfred as if to say 'it's alright' and quickly makes his way to his office. He swallows back the lump in his throat and sits down at his desk after shutting his door. The computer turns on as he bumps the mouse but he can't find it in himself to start answering emails. He doesn't feel like doing anything. He stares into his tea for a second before he takes a sip, then curses under his breath.

It's bitter.

"God dammit," Arthur hisses as he sits up in his bed, tossing the sheets to the side. He rubs his hands on his face. He couldn't sleep. Again. Not that that was much of a surprise; he hadn't been able to sleep through the night since he'd told Alfred off. He'd been exhausted after waking up on this Saturday morning and had decided to take a nap, something he usually never did. But after tossing and turning, yet again, for an hour or two, he realized it was a fruitless effort. The clock on his bedside table angrily blinks at him - 3:26 PM.

It'd been a few days and, frankly, Arthur was more miserable than he'd ever been in his entire life. He couldn't sleep, didn't have very much of an appetite, and he was falling behind at work. He couldn't explain why to his boss - he didn't think 'I lost my one and only friend' was a good enough reason - so he just gave him an arbitrary explanation that he hasn't been able to focus lately but it'll pass. But it isn't passing. It just keeps happening. He finds his eyes wandering away from his computer screen every few minutes, waiting for the familiar face that used to visit him almost every hour to burst through and sit down and immediately start talking. But he never did. When he was out on the bank's floor, he found himself glancing every now and then in Alfred's direction, only to find a different employee that he didn't even remember hiring. Every now and then when Alfred did open the door to his office, he spoke formally and continuously called him Mr. Kirkland; Arthur could never find the words to tell him to stop calling him that. He hated that name. He wanted to be called Arthur, or Art, or, just… Anything but that. When he left for the day, usually an hour later because he was waiting for someone to walk out with him, his eyes kept darting around, wondering if he truly was the last one to leave, wondering if maybe Alfred had just stayed later as well, but that was never the case. Any time he left his office at the same time as Alfred was leaving, he always watched, his stomach turning over and over again, as he left the building with the other guards, or sometimes one of the pretty girls he'd employed. Arthur would stand by his office for a second, biting his tongue to keep the lump in his throat from causing any noise to escape, before he'd swiftly exit without a second glance in Alfred's direction. Occasionally, Alfred would look over at him. Arthur wouldn't meet his gaze; but he knew it was there, could feel the burning glance on the back of his head as he unlocked his car, could feel the icy blue eyes on his car through his peripheral vision as he screeched out of the parking lot, desperate to get away from this feeling.

But he could never quite escape it. Everything right now reminded him of Alfred. He felt like a dumb school girl who'd gotten her heart crushed by the school's quarterback and he hated it. He hated every second of it. He couldn't get Alfred's laugh out of his head, couldn't get rid of the fucking smile burned into his memory, couldn't get rid of his caring, loving gaze when they'd almost-

God. He really was a school girl who'd gotten her heart crushed by the school's quarterback.

With a huff, he jumps out of his bed and pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a warmer sweater. Even with the cold front subsiding, he was freezing all the time. He heads outside after pulling on his shoes and winter jacket, and before he knows it, he finds himself in front of the skating rink that Alfred had taken him to. Surprisingly, they were still open, though only a few pairs of people were skating in circles around the rink. He finds himself walking over to the skating rental hut and asking for his size; he dons the skates and slowly hobbles over to the ice, hands outstretched as he shivers. One skate carefully steps onto the ice, followed by the other, Alfred's words echoing in his memory.

Before he knows it, he's gliding easily on the ice, staring at his feet the entire time. He doesn't know why he's doing this. Doesn't know why he would ever bother going skating by himself, especially when he was surrounded by what felt like a thousand other people skating in pairs. He doesn't know why he felt compelled to come down here, but he did. He was here now and he was suddenly crying and he couldn't stop himself from feeling more alone than he ever had in his entire life. He brushes the tears from his face and stumbles on the ice - thankfully, he catches himself, but he can't stop thinking of the warm, safe feeling of Alfred's arms around him the last time he had fallen on the ice. He can't stop thinking about the strong hands holding his hips and teaching him how to skate, can't stop thinking about the whirring wind around him as Alfred skated at top speeds around everyone else here, zipping to and fro and spinning around to grin at Arthur without a care in the world.

God, what is wrong with him? Why can't he stop crying? Why can't he let go of their friendship and move on? Why can't he just go back to how he was living before he'd gotten the job at the bank - hell, even just back to before he'd allowed Alfred to burst into his life every day? He'd lost friends before. And for much better reasons. He'd been alone before, had been alone for a majority of his life, to be honest, only finding solace in books and movies and work. He was okay with that. At least... he had been.

Frustrated, Arthur makes his way over to an exit and quickly takes off the shoes. He returns them without a second thought and stalks over to his car.

But, when he unlocks it, he just stands there, keys in his hand and door halfway open. He didn't want to go home. He didn't want to stay here. He couldn't fall asleep anyway. But he didn't have anywhere else to go. Maybe a walk would help? Maybe the cold air would help clear his head, or at least the movement may exhaust him enough that he'd fall asleep when he finally got home. Or maybe fall asleep behind the wheel. Either option sounded okay to Arthur at this point.

So he closes the door and locks his car again, taking off in the direction opposite the skating rink. He ignores the squealing of giggly girls behind him, ignores the stabbing feelings of jealousy, and walks briskly through the town. He shoves his hands further into the pockets, stuffs his face into his jacket to protect it from the cold, and ignores the street signs, perfectly fine with getting lost. Perfectly fine with winding up in another town and having to start over again with nothing but the money in his wallet and the clothes on his back. Perfectly fine with never seeing Alfred again and forgetting these feelings of…

What even were these feelings? He wanted to call them hatred. Wanted to say he was just annoyed at Alfred, annoyed at everything that had happened, maybe even that he truly was okay with never seeing Alfred again, but he couldn't possibly actually do that. Alfred took up all of his thoughts. He wanted Alfred to be happy, but more importantly, he wanted Alfred to be happy because of Arthur himself. He wanted to make Alfred happy. But why? Why did he feel the need to be the sole source of Alfred's happiness? And why did he feel so hurt when Alfred found happiness elsewhere, without him, without even a second glance or second thought of Arthur at all?

He glances up and gasps lightly. Somehow he'd ended up in a part of town that resembled a suburb and along the streets, the houses were decorated top to bottom. The streetlights were on, but more than that, the streets were lit up with Christmas decorations around every pole, on every tree, and even stuck in the snow were some decorations. The bushes had lights on them, there were little flags that wished passers by a happy holidays, and the stars seemed to gleam even brighter than ever before. Each and every single house on the block had lights all along the roof, along the garages, along the trees and the porches and... His chest wells up with something he's never felt before; tears stream down his face for a reason he can't place and he lets out a sob through a smile. It was all so beautiful and it was filling him with some sort of feeling, something he can't quite place but can only sort of describe as-

Love.

It's love.

He loves the lights. He loves the snow. He loves the stupid decorations. He loves… He loves Alfred.

How had he not realized this before? How had he not seen this? He'd been thinking this entire time how much like a school girl with a crush he'd been acting, and yet it'd taken him this long to realize that everything he felt about Alfred was love. He was jealous of his family because he loved them. He was jealous of his friends at work because they were feeling his love and affection now, and he wasn't. He was jealous of the fucking kids skating around the ice rink at six o'clock because they were in love, because they were free to hug and hold hands and kiss and-

Oh God. Everything he said to Alfred… none of it was true. Absolutely none of it. He hadn't listened to Alfred but he heard every word he said. He'd read his texts. He'd listened to the voicemails. But he didn't want to hear it. He wanted to be right because he didn't know how to react to the feelings he had been feeling for… for years, he now realizes. He didn't know how it felt to be in love, and it scared him. Dammit, he was terrified! He'd never felt so vulnerable but so safe at the same time as he did when he was with Alfred! And instead of letting him be vulnerable and trusting Alfred to take care of his vulnerability, he looked for the first sign of anything wrong, and took it as a reason to distrust Alfred, as a reason to throw everything they'd- that Alfred had worked so hard on away. As a reason to disavow their friendship and as a reason to stop moving towards something more because Arthur didn't understand it and didn't know how to properly process it. He convinced himself that Alfred didn't feel the same way, and had a panic attack when something made this fact seem true. When his mother told him he had "done this before", he took it to mean what he wanted it to mean. He heard what he wanted. He knew now that he was wrong, knew that he'd overreacted, but was too stubborn to really listen to Alfred, to even really listen to himself, and now he'd broken Alfred's heart. He'd broken his own heart. He'd made everything worse by lashing out at him, instead of being an adult and having a conversation, instead of letting Alfred explain what his mother had told him. He'd been a fucking fool.

Alfred didn't pity him. He liked spending time with him. He was being genuine. When he laughed at him at the skating rink, he didn't mean it to be mean. He was laughing because he thought it was funny and - Arthur laughs to himself a bit as he remembers how much he struggled - it was funny. When he called him cute while he was dressed as an elf, he meant it. Arthur had always been insecure about his looks but Alfred thought he looked cute, dressed as an elf. Alfred was worried about telling him about his drunken rampage the following morning because he knew how he was going to feel about it. He knew he was going to be embarrassed and maybe just want to forget it all. He knew in his heart that Alfred hadn't been laughing at him, that instead he'd been worried the entire time and- hell, he'd taken him home for God's sake! If he wanted to laugh at him he would have let him stay there until God knows when! Alfred had never done anything ever to humiliate Arthur, at least not on purpose, and he couldn't possibly understand why he'd thought that was the case. Couldn't possibly understand where he'd gotten all of his worries from except from his own anxiety and spiraling tendencies.

Coming out of his trance like realization, he sees it had started snowing. Now he really felt like he was in one of the bad Hallmark Christmas movies he'd seen time and time again.

He lets out a loud laugh, pulls his hands out of his pockets and holds them out, catching snowflakes in his bare hands. He pushes his hood back and takes in a deep breath.

He was right. The cold air definitely helped clear his head.

Nervously, Arthur steps up to the familiar red door and raises his hand to knock. But he hesitates. He hasn't stopped to think since he realized he was in love with Alfred. Everything felt like he was in one of those stupid, cheesy romantic comedies, and he loved it. He wanted to see Alfred's stupid-happy face again. He wanted to see those beautiful blue eyes staring down at him with so much love and caring and happiness and… He just wanted to see Alfred. He couldn't really explain it. Every time he thought about what he said to Alfred, his chest hurt, his stomach dropped to his knees, his head hurt, his... He couldn't believe he thought for a second that Alfred had a mean bone in his body. He couldn't believe he'd almost thrown away everything that the other man had shown him in the past month, all over a stupid misunderstanding. All because Arthur doesn't know how to handle his feelings. All because Arthur is in love with Alfred but wouldn't admit it.

Before he can stop to talk himself out of it, he knocks three times on the door, then steps back, onto the snow below the porch. He waits for what seems like hours, hands in his jacket pockets, until eventually, a familiar face opens the door.

"Hell-oh. You." Matthew says, narrowing his eyes and closing the door to hide who was behind it. "What do you want." He asks flatly, shocking Arthur a bit. He'd never expect Matthew to be able to sound so harsh; just from the few hours he'd spent with Alfred's family, it was clear who Matthew was. Or… it was clear. But now Arthur's world was upside down, so he supposed everything he thought was clear before wasn't so crystal.

"I…" Arthur starts, then stops. He tries again. "Matthew, listen, I-"

"Look, he doesn't want to see you, okay?" Matthew says, stepping outside the door and closing it behind him, as if protecting the rest of the household from this conversation. "You broke his heart. All he wanted was to show you what this holiday meant to him and you slapped it right back in his face. I'll take a message but only if that message is 'I'm sorry'. If not, you can leave right now, and I'll forget this ever happened. I won't even tell Alfred you stopped by to save him further heartbreak." Arthur stands, mouth open, unsure of what to say and hating it. He'd never been this unsure of himself… he felt like a fish out of water. He just wanted to see Alfred, to apologize in person, to try and mend what he'd broken. He knew he fucked up. He couldn't stand that he fucked up.

"Matthew, please-"

"I'm not hearing an apology." Matthew says coldly, before turning back to the door. "Look, if you don't have anything good to say, then you're wasting my time."

"I love him."

This makes Matthew stop, door an inch open as he was heading back inside. His grip tightens on the doorknob, and he slowly closes it again. He turns around.

"You love him?" Matthew scoffs and quickly walks down the steps to tower over Arthur - Arthur silently curses his genes for making him so much shorter than everyone else, as he backs away quickly from Matthew, slightly afraid of the taller, stronger man. He'd thought Matthew was rather scrawny, always bent over or huddling close to his boyfriend, but Matthew looked just as built as Alfred. He suddenly slightly regretted his decision to go to the Jones's house, even if he knew Alfred would be here.

"How dare you." Matthew hisses, glaring down at the meek man. "How dare you say what you said to Alfred, do what you did, and then come crawling back here, expecting me to just-just let you see him after you broke his-no, after you shattered him like that. He tried to explain everything. He tried for days to fix what you broke. He is the kindest fucking person on the face of the planet, and you ignored him. You expect me to forgive you just because you love him all of a sudden? You expect me to let you into this house after you turned everything upside down?"

"Please, just let me talk to him, Matthew-"

"Why would I do that? Why would I believe you?" Matthew shouts, and Arthur sucks in a breath. Man, Matthew could be intimidating when he wanted to. Perhaps that's why he was so good at hockey. "You… He's been wallowing since you pulled his heart straight out of his chest and stomped on it. This is the happiest time of his year and instead he's been sitting in his old bed since Friday night, when you told him how you really felt-"

"That's just it!" Arthur shouts, feeling tears he didn't know were there fall down his cheeks. "I-I don't really feel that way! I love him, Matthew, I do, I just… I... " He takes a deep breath and looks down. Matthew crosses his arms, staring down at him with cold eyes, waiting for him to finish his thought.

"... If… If he truly doesn't want to see me, I'll… I'll leave. I'll ask to be transferred and let him stay where he's happy. I'll-I'll move states- damn it all, I'll move out of the bloody country if that's what he wants! But… I just… I need to see him. I need to tell him in person that I am so sorry." He looks back up at Matthew. "Please, Matthew."

Matthew stares him down for a few moments, arms crossed over his chest. Arthur feels like he could start melting from how harshly he was being glared at. Suddenly, the door is opened behind Matthew and he whips around, harsh gaze softening when he sees Gilbert step outside.

"Matt, your mom-oh. Hey, Arthur!" He says cheerfully, then notices the tears streaming down his face and the crossed arms on Matthew's chest. He sucks in a breath, then lets it out with a nervous laugh. "Oh man, what's goin' on, guys?"

"Arthur's decided he loves Alfred."

"That's great!"

"No, it's not great, Gilbert," Matthew hisses, frowning over at his boyfriend, as if disappointed that Gilbert wasn't on the same page as him. Gilbert gives Arthur a small smile as he steps down into the snow beside Matthew, placing a hand on his shoulder, turning him away from the Brit to speak with him quietly.

"C'mon, isn't this what we wanted since Alfred started talking about him?"

"Well-" Matthew huffs, glancing at Arthur and lowering his voice. "Yes. But I'm not letting him back into Alfred's life that easily! You know how broken he's been! He's never been like that, even when-"

"Matty. Come on. He's trying. I'd say coming here, knowing his entire family is here, knowing his entire family probably hates him now," Gilbert says with a slightly louder voice, letting Arthur know just exactly how fucked he is right now, before he lowers it again. "I think that effort and bravery warrants at least an attempt at an apology. Let the man at least apologize in person to Alfred." Gilbert has a soft, caring smile on his face and Arthur's hands twist around in their pockets as he looks away, unsure of what he should do.

"But-" Gilbert cuts him off with just a tilt of his head and a raise of his eyebrows, and Matthew groans and throws his hands up in the air, defeated. He could never say no to Gilbert.

"Fine!" He shouts, then turns to Arthur, who looks up with a hopeful smile. "Fine. I'll tell him you're here and want to talk to him, but I can't guarantee he'll come out."

Without a word, Matthew swivels on his heel and enters the house again, Gilbert following quickly behind him. He turns to grin, slightly apologetically, at Arthur as he rubs the back of his head.

"Sorry, man. He's uh… He's a bit overprotective of his lil' bro, y'know?" Arthur smiles slightly and nods, and Gilbert heads inside, closing the door behind him to keep the cold out. Arthur scuffs the ground with his shoe, wiping away the last of the tears on his cheeks as he waits. And waits. And… waits. And waits... some more... Arthur sucks in a breath and nods to himself. That seems about right, he thinks. He waits for a few more moments, just in case Alfred really had decided to come out, to listen to him, but it quickly becomes apparent that he wasn't going to. He turns on his heels and starts to walk back to his car.

"What was I thinking… How stupid…" He murmurs to himself, sniffing.

"I didn't take you for a quitter, Kirkland."

Arthur whips around and his eyes widen at the sight of Alfred leaning against the closed front door. He offers a sad smile and puts his hands into his sweatshirt pockets. God, Arthur thinks. He looks horrible. Alfred stands with a small, sad smile on his face and bags under his eyes. His skin is pale, and his hair is messy and he's wearing pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt; he looks as if he hasn't gotten out of bed for days and Arthur's heart falls into his knees at the thought that he did this to Alfred. That he caused such a cheerful, wonderful man to be so broken he couldn't even function properly. That he is the reason why the man who used to celebrate Christmas several months in advance couldn't be bothered to get wrapped up in the festivities anymore.

"Alfred…" He quickly rushes forward and wipes away the tears in his eyes. "Alfred, I'm-I'm so sorry, I-"

"Look, it's okay," Alfred raises a palm up and cuts him off. Arthur freezes where he is on the second step to the porch. "You don't have to apologize. This whole thing… the stupid ideas were all mine. I'm sorry I forced you to do all of that. I didn't… I didn't mean to embarrass you-"

"Alfred-"

"Let me finish." Alfred says, looking sternly over at him. Arthur closes his mouth, but steps up to stand in front of him on the porch. He was just repeating everything he'd said in all of his texts, in all of his voicemails, and Arthur didn't need to be reminded of it again. But Alfred felt the need to say it out loud, since Arthur had never really responded to him. He wanted to be heard. He wanted to apologize in person as well, even though Arthur knew he didn't have anything to apologize for. "I shouldn't have pushed you out of your comfort zone so much. I didn't think about it. I just… wanted you to be happy and enjoy these things as much as I do." He smiles sadly again and looks away.

"Alfred, no-"

"It's okay, Artie. Don't worry about it."

"Alfred, just-just shut up, for one second!" Arthur shouts, startling Alfred. "I'm a fool! I'm a bloody fool!"

"What-?"

"All of those things you made me do. I loved each and every one. I loved ice skating with you. I loved watching those cheesy movies. I loved wrapping presents, I loved dressing up as a damn elf, Alfred. I loved it. I loved all of it because I was with you."

"Arthur, you don't have to lie-"

"I'm not!" Arthur shouts again, what was left of his heart breaking into minuscule pieces at the phrase Alfred used. He was using his own words against him. He was bitter, and hurt, and upset, and he had every right to be. Alfred stares down at him with a frown and Arthur takes a breath. "Look… I… I've never felt this way. I didn't know. And I'm… I'm not very good at this whole… feelings thing," he admits with a small laugh, glancing up at Alfred to see his lips twitch up into a small smile.

"And I-I knew it before I knew it, you know? And I was... scared. This was all new stuff for me and I was terrified. I was already scared you didn't feel the same way, and then at the lighting ceremony..." He blushes a bit and Alfred looks away. "...But I thought… When your mother said you'd done this before, I thought… I thought maybe I was just another one of your charity projects."

"You weren't-!"

"I know!" Arthur cuts him off as Alfred had started to reach over towards him, to stop his thoughts from spiraling again. "I know. I just... It made me think that... that I was the only one who felt this way. I thought that everything we did meant nothing to you. So, I got jealous, and angry, and-and I didn't know what to do. So I did what I do best and I pushed you away." He waits for Alfred to interject, and when he doesn't, he continues.

"I thought I would feel better if I told you off, but it just festered inside me. I realized… that everything you did, you did for me. I've never had anyone try this hard to make me happy. I've never... " Arthur's eyes are darting all over the place, desperately trying to think of something to say. What could he possibly say that would take back all the wrong he did? What could he possibly do that would change how Alfred feels about him right now?

"I'm sorry for what I did, for what I said. I'm so, so sorry, Alfred. I know now that I didn't mean any of it, I never did, I was just-just reacting because… Because I don't process feelings well, and because the tiny thought in the back of my head that I might be in love with you scared me beyond belief, because what if you didn't feel the same way, because what if it was just a joke to you, because... because I'm a bloody fool and I didn't know it was because..." He looks down sadly and shakes his head. "But if you hate me, if you never want to see me again, I understand. I just needed you to know that I love… I love being with you, and…"

"Artie…" He looks up to meet wide, bright blue eyes staring down at him, a small smile accompanying them. "I loved everything we did too. It meant the world to me. Everything with you was different- a-a good different." He reaches down and grabs Arthur's hands.

"I may have done all of that stuff with you, stuff I've done with other people, but it wasn't because it didn't mean anything to me. It was because I wanted you to be a part of my life. I didn't take you to all of my favorite spots, spend time with you, and try to convince you to love Christmas just because I wanted to-to make fun of you, or something. I took you to those places because I liked you, and I wanted… I wanted to know if you liked me too and I wanted you to know how I felt, but I couldn't just tell you that, 'cause, well..." He trails off, but Arthur knows exactly what he means. He squeezes his hands and smiles up at him, then reaches up and brushes away some of the tears on his cheeks.

"Christmas just means so much to me and I wanted you to know how much you meant to me too." Alfred says softly, rubbing the back of one of Arthur's hands with his thumb. Arthur responds with a squeeze of his hand and a small sniff.

"I'm so glad you did, Alfred. I'm so sorry I didn't realize it sooner."

"It's okay!" Alfred says quickly, shaking his head. "I should have said something or-"

"No, no, I should have!"

"What would you have even said?"

"I don't- I..." Arthur looks down with a small laugh. "I don't know." They laugh together, then go silent again. He nervously stares at Alfred's hands, wrapped around his own, before he pulls them out of his hold and instead wraps them around his neck. He pulls Alfred close and Alfred responds happily, holding him tightly in his arms as he buries his face into Arthur's neck. He's freezing, Arthur sadly thinks.

"I'm sorry..." Arthur apologizes as he pulls back from the tight hug, as much as he didn't want to. As much as he would have preferred to stay like that all evening. But Alfred was freezing, only standing in socks and a sweatshirt and thin pants. He should get back inside. Alfred snorts and brushes back a few bits of Arthur's hair.

"Stop apologizing. I forgive you." Arthur takes a quick glance towards the windows next to the door, notices quick movement, and smirks.

"Do you think your family will forgive me?" Alfred looks behind him and laughs slightly. He shrugs.

"Probably. Although Matthew will probably take the longest..." He says with a fond smile down at Arthur, who nods and bites his lip. He glances up at the ceiling of the porch, and his smile widens.

"You know, there's one more Christmas tradition you didn't show me." Alfred's eyebrows pinch together and he frowns.

"There is? What did I-"

Alfred is cut off by Arthur pressing his lips against the other's. Alfred responds eagerly, wrapping his arms around the other's waist again and pulling him closer; Arthur uses his arms still wrapped around his neck to pull him down, so he doesn't have to reach up on his tip-toes so much. Arthur can't believe how soft Alfred's lips are, and how much he tastes like peppermint. He can't believe how strong Alfred's arms feel around him, how warm and safe he finally feels in those arms, how much he wants to stay in this embrace for the rest of his life, if just to make the other man happy. Most of all he can't believe that Alfred forgives him, that Alfred feels the same way, that Alfred is still so warm and loving and caring despite everything Arthur had said to him. He can't believe he's here now, holding Alfred close against him, hands entangling in his hair and lips against the man he'd been in love with for so long, even if he'd only now just realized it. He tilts his head and presses himself even closer to Alfred. He doesn't think he'll ever completely apologize for everything he did, but he'll work as hard as he possibly can to make Alfred happy, for as long as he'll let him.

After a few moments, Alfred pulls away and laughs softly, breathily, faces inches away.

"Mistletoe?"

"Mistletoe." Arthur nods with a wide grin, making Alfred laugh and reach up to cup his cheeks, kissing him once more.

Suddenly the door opens, and Alfred's mother stands on the other side, cooing and cheering.

"Oh my God! Finally!" She squeals and rushes out to hug the two, swaying side to side happily. "I just knew it!"

"Mom," Alfred whines, though he doesn't stop smiling. She reaches up and kisses Arthur on either cheek, before grabbing one of each of their hands and pulling them inside.

"Come in, come in, get out of the cold! Take off your shoes, come have dinner, Arthur, come-!"

"Wait, mom, hang on," Alfred pulls his hand out of his mom's and turns to Arthur. "I'm not making Arthur do anything he doesn't want to anymore. So… if he wants to come inside-"

"I do," Arthur says, looking up at Alfred. He turns towards Mrs. Jones and smiles. "I'd love to." She grins and just rushes back inside to set another seat at the table for Arthur. Alfred turns towards him with a frown, and holds one of his hands.

"Arthur, you really don't have to come in if you don't want to, I promise. We can do this some other time."

"No, it's okay. Really. I'll be fine as long as you're with me." Arthur smiles up at him and then reaches up, somewhat hesitant, and kisses his cheek. Alfred smiles in response, taking his cheeks in his hands and kissing him deeply once again. They stand in the doorway for a second until Gilbert yells at them to shut the door and stop letting the cold in; Alfred pulls away, but kisses him a few more times, quickly, as if he wants to pull away but doesn't, as if he would spend the rest of the evening out in the cold with Arthur if it meant he could keep kissing him. Eventually he leads him inside and shuts the door.

Glancing around the small house, he smiles as he notices that the Christmas decorations are still up, just spiffed up a bit with New Years Eve decorations. Matthew sits, looking a bit trapped, on Gilbert's lap, his arms crossed as he sends a small glare Arthur's way. Gilbert runs a hand along his shin, leans up to whisper something into his ear, making Matthew snort and turn towards him with a small giggle; Gil grins, holding Matthew close as he chooses to tuck into his shoulder instead, and then turns to Arthur with a thumbs up.

"It'll take him a little bit, but, don't worry, he'll warm up to you again." Alfred whispers into his ear. Arthur chuckles nervously.

"I didn't know your brother could be so scary," He whispers back, taking another glance in his direction. Even though he'd wrapped his arms around Gilbert and was instead looking over at the fireplace, and Gilbert was whispering into his ear and grinning and Matthew was giggling and whispering back, looking every bit in love with Gilbert as Arthur felt with Alfred, he couldn't shake off the feeling of true fear he'd felt while Matthew was glaring down at him, as if he was poised to attack at any moment. Alfred just nods.

"Yeah," He draws out, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. "It's kind of awesome. He spends most of the time all meek and demure, but then you get on his bad side and you never hear the end of it."

"Oh, great." Arthur says with a roll of his eyes. His cheeks burn a bright pink as Alfred leads him with his arm on his shoulder, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, to a different area of the house, so Matthew doesn't glare at him the entire time.

"No, I mean, like..." Alfred struggles to come up with some sort of reassurance, but can't think of anything. He shrugs and smiles sheepishly. "I mean, it'll be fine. Eventually. Probably." Arthur resists the urge to apologize for what he'd done again, choosing instead to sit down on the stairs with Alfred, his arm still around his shoulders as they watch the rest of the family before dinner is ready. Helen is moving to and fro within the kitchen, preparing anything and everything she can. Ned stands dutifully outside the kitchen, waiting for orders from his wife, but remaining silent and staring on with the same loving look that Alfred is gazing at him with now. Arthur turns and meets his gaze, and Alfred leans in close, closing the distance and kissing him deeply again - Arthur turns into the kiss and pulls him closer by his sweatshirt.

"Alright, alright, lovebirds!" Helen suddenly calls as she brings the main dish to the table. "Soups on! Come on, stop canoodling and come eat! I made all this food and I'm not going to stand here as you just make out in my house!" Arthur blushes and pulls away from Alfred, who snorts and presses his forehead onto Arthur's shoulder.

"Don't worry," Arthur says, patting his cheek lovingly. "We'll have plenty of time later." Alfred looks up, hopeful, then grins and stands up, pulling him up along with him.

Arthur sits down at the dinner table, hand still gripping Alfred's tightly as he glances around at the family. Matthew sits in front of him, eyeing him up but being distracted by Gilbert every now and then (Arthur sends a silent "thank you" to Gilbert every time he does, and makes a mental note to do something nice for Gilbert to truly thank him for his efforts). Helen talks their ears off, passing out bowls full of mashed potatoes, peas, every bit of the kitchen she could think to make, and Ned smiles peacefully down at her from the other end of the table, every bit of love radiating from him though he remains as silent as ever.

Normally, Arthur would have loved nothing more than to go home and relax with a nice cup of tea after such a stressful event. But if he learned anything from Alfred, it was that sometimes, stepping outside your comfort zone was necessary. As he sits down next to Alfred at the dinner table, and Alfred rubs the back of his palm for an added comfort, and Helen continues babbling on after passing out the dinner, and Matthew finally smiles the slightest bit at him, he's never felt more comfortable. He feels like he finally has a family. He feels…

He hates to admit it, but Alfred's bet worked. He finally loves Christmas.

And there you have it! All's well that ends well or whatever! Thank you so much, all of you, for reading and reviewing!

I love writing fluff like the end of this so uh... there's probably going to be one more chapter... just so you guys know. :p