Day 5 - and it's a Christmas Day update! Unfortunately I couldn't get this finished last night, which is when it was originally supposed to go up... (also this is pretty late on Christmas Day, even, because, you know... Downton Abbey... T.T)

Thanks to: Lamashtar Two, Guest, amoka22, xxalexisurgodxx and another Guest!

1942

"We should get up," Arthur mumbled, stretching a little over Alfred's chest before giving up, flopping against him.

"Yeah," Alfred sighed contentedly, carding his hand through Arthur's mussed hair. "Yeah, we should."

He exhaled, closing his eyes, and they were both still for a moment longer, cuddling closer under the expensive covers. Alfred lazily drew a little pattern with his thumb on the small of Arthur's back, humming to himself.

"Bing Crosby?" Arthur asked groggily.

"You got it." Alfred stretched a little bit, his toes pointing and spreading, and then yawned. "It's weird to be back here, huh?"

"Indeed." Arthur's voice grew a little stiffer, a little more careful. "1915 was the last time."

"I seem to recall my room being grander back then." Alfred paused. "I wonder which room they held the Titanic investigation in." He shuddered. "God, I hope it wasn't this one."

"I doubt it - unless they conducted the investigation from the bed." Arthur finally, grudgingly, pried himself up, patting Alfred's chest. "Come on, it won't do for us to be late. We'd better get dressed."

Alfred scrabbled half-heartedly at him, trying to keep him in the bed, but Arthur slithered away, stepping out onto the gorgeous thick carpet. He stretched, still naked, and gave a dismissive wave of his hand when Alfred made a show of turning over and pretending to ogle him for all he was worth.

"Come off it," Arthur muttered, finding his underwear and tugging it back on. "You've had more than an eyeful this afternoon."

"Another eyeful wouldn't hurt," Alfred pouted, watching him take down his dress uniform: they were pristine, barely-worn, and hung side-by-side, straight-backed, from the ornate wardrobe.

"Never mind that," Arthur said shortly, looking to the clock as he pulled his uniform trousers on and buttoned them decisively. "We need to be downstairs at six. Hurry and get dressed." He rubbed his thumb over his chin, turning to look in the dresser mirror. "Ugh, I'd better shave. I didn't bother this morning..."

He snatched up his shirt and shrugged it on as he headed towards the bathroom, his braces swinging at his knees; and he paused at the doorframe, turning to glare at Alfred, who hadn't even attempted to properly sit up yet.

"Oi," he growled, "get up, you lazy little bugger."

"I'm up, I'm up," Alfred grumbled, flailing overenthusiastically with the covers.

Arthur didn't wait around to watch him actually peel himself away from the mattress, shutting the bathroom door behind him. He buttoned his shirt and tucked it in and then reached for his shaving kit, pulling it all out from its well-worn leather pouch.

This was typical of Alfred, who had essentially comandeered the whole occasion: the annual Officer's Christmas Ball was usually a fairly low-key affair held in a blacked-out nightclub in London's West End. Of course, enter Alfred and the United States and suddenly the thing was three times the size and as many times as grand, held in New York's famous and glorious Waldorf-Astoria hotel. Arthur had argued against moving it, given that it was a tradition of the British officers and their place to invite their new American allies, not vice versa, but Alfred had quite insisted, seeming to imply that it was guaranteed that they'd be bombed out in London (it didn't seem to matter that they'd had a virtually incident-free track record for the past three years). In the end, Arthur had been thoroughly outvoted and had had no choice but to accept the move. He supposed it wasn't Alfred's fault that he didn't understand the concept of Make Do and Mend, nor indeed that of Keeping Calm and Carrying On: he was still very new to the war and hadn't suffered the rationing and the bombing, the waking up in the morning to find that the world had fallen in around you. No, Alfred was rich again, booming better than ever, and he didn't understand.

When Arthur came back to finish dressing, Alfred was out of bed, yes, but in only his trousers, leaning out of the open window; the lamplight from the street glossed warmly over the curve of his bare back.

"What on earth are you doing hanging out the window half-dressed?" Arthur asked, incredulous.

"Looking for snow." Alfred said this in a matter-of-fact manner, craning his neck to look up towards the clouds peeping through the tall buildings. "It's Christmas Day. It should snow."

"I hear you're supposed to send a request for snow six weeks in advance," Arthur replied blithely, knotting his tie.

"I've been wishing for snow all year!"

"Well, in that case, you ought to have asked that bloated red monstrosity you made of St Nicholas for some."

"Hey, at least my bloated red monstrosity doesn't terrorise children!" Alfred replied, finally coming back into the room; he shut the window with a snap. "Oh, wait, no, that was just you taking delight in telling me St Nick would steal me away forever if I waited up for him."

"I still stand by the notion that he must be a fairy of some sort," Arthur said primly. "Now will you please get dressed?"

Alfred mimicked him unflatteringly as he sarcastically skipped to the bathroom, shutting the door with a swing of his hips; and, beyond it, Arthur could hear him singing Irving Berlin's White Christmas in an obnoxiously loud manner. He determined to take as little notice of him as possible - that song was all the more irritating for its current standing at the number one position onLucky Strikes' Your Hit Parade, which Alfred avidly followed.

He was carefully adjusting the coils of gold braiding looped from his chest to his shoulder when Alfred at last reappeared, his hair perfectly coiffed; he had quite the habit of mimicking the fashion of the young men, though as a rule his hair, much like Arthur's, was fairly untameable and always fell back into his natural side parting before long.

"Well, well, don't you look dapper," Alfred teased, flicking at the braiding. "I never got this stuff."

"It's for strangling annoying Lieutenant Colonels with." Arthur thrust Alfred's uniform at him. "On. Now."

"That's not what you were saying earlier-"

"Alfred, we're going to be late."

Arthur threw Alfred's uniform at him and stalked away, going to sit on the edge of the bed, which Alfred had barely bothered to neaten up. He distractedly smoothed the sheets out as Alfred dressed before the mirror. Their hats were nestled together on the desk, polished peaks gleaming and braiding glossy; he went to lift them, inspecting his own to ensure it was spotless.

"There," Alfred said moodily, at last turning to him. "Done."

"Almost." Arthur came to him, fidgeting with a crease in his collar, tightening the knot of his tie, tugging his jacket down; Alfred endured it patiently, long used to it. "Here." He handed him his hat before passing him, putting on his own before the mirror. Alfred joined him, his at his preferred, perfectly-skewed angle.

"Goddamn," Alfred said, grinning, "but we clean up well, huh?"

"Eventually," Arthur said with a roll of his eyes. "Come on, we'd better go down."

"Sure." Now that he was dressed and ready to go, Alfred had a bit of a bounce in his step, light-footed as he went to the door and opened it. "Let's go, Art!"

"You've certainly changed your tune."

"Uh, yeah, because you were nagging me before."

"Well, pardon me for not wanting to explain to Mr Roosevelt that we were late because you were leaning out of the bloody window with no shirt on."

"Tch, he wouldn't surprised. I do stuff like all the time. One time I climbed up on to the White House roof to get a kite down."

"I assume you were fully-dressed."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Alfred said teasingly, grinning. He offered Arthur his elbow as the door swung shut behind them. "Shall we, Major-General?"

"Oh, I suppose so, Lieutenant Colonel," Arthur sighed, slipping his arm through Alfred's.

"What's the matter?" Alfred teased, nudging him. "Tired?"

"Somewhat." Arthur smirked dryly at him. "You took quite a bit out of me this afternoon."

"Not all of it, I hope," Alfred replied, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the temple.

"Oh please..." Arthur patted Alfred's arm as they began the descent into the magnificent Park Avenue lobby. "You know me better than that, love."

"Heh. Well, I know - despite your bellyaching - that you're going to love this."

"Well, I don't know that there was any call for you to steal the glory."

"Consider it a rest. You've done your bit." Alfred snatched up a handful of candy canes from a silver tray as they passed it, offering one to Arthur. "Candy cane?"

"No thank you - although something to drink wouldn't go amiss."

Alfred laughed, sticking one of the canes into his mouth and shoving the rest into his pocket for later.

"Coming right up." He steered Arthur through the lobby, looking very pleased with himself. "In the meantime... thoughts? Only positive feedback, of course."

Arthur looked fondly - if despairingly - at him.

"While I do think you've taken several leaves out of my very Victorian book," he said, "I can't deny that this is impressive." They reached a serving man with a tray of a champagne, helping themselves; and Arthur looked around as he sipped at his.

Of course, the Waldorf-Astoria was just about the last word in glamour and Alfred had certainly set his people a daunting task to make it look more breathtaking still; a huge Christmas tree bursting with brilliant flashes of red and gold stood at one end of the lobby, stretching almost to the ceiling, and the decor was a tasteful but festive sprucing of red velvets and gold silks and cording. A band in their black tails played a spritely rendition of 'Let It Snow', filling up the huge room with its famous mosaic flooring; over which milled all manner of Allied officers from all branches of the armed forces and their dates and wives, all in stunning gowns of deep-jewel colours like reds and purples and greens. The officers, like Alfred and Arthur, were in full dress uniform, all buffed to perfection, buttons twinkling in the light - with a great many of the female officers forgoing gowns in favour of their uniforms, too. More so than any of Arthur's Imperial parties, there seemed to be a real sense of warmth and cheer to this gathering: the hallmark of the Officer's Ball. This was a well-deserved night for everyone here and Arthur had looked forward to Christmas Night since 1939 purely for that reason. It warmed his heart to see them all smile.

"It wonderful," he said again, looking at Alfred. "It's always wonderful. It doesn't matter where it is - but thank you for this all the same. Truth be told... it was a relief not to have to organise it this year. It'll be nice to just... enjoy myself for once."

"Hey, everyone needs a break, even if there's a war on," Alfred said in a low voice, hooking his half-eaten candy cane over the rim of his glass. "Even you, Mr Kirkland."

"Well, that's very kind, Mr Jones." Arthur touched his cheek fondly. "You do spoil me so."

"What say we both just enjoy ourselves tonight?" Alfred pressed. "Just you and I as ourselves like we used to have. We don't have to be nations. We can just be human."

Arthur smiled.

"We can pretend, at least," he replied. "Just for tonight while there is no duty."

Alfred leaned in and they shared a quick, chaste kiss, hidden in the heart of the jubilant crowd.

"Merry Christmas to all," he said, his smile wrapped around the familiar words, "and to all a good night."

The Titanic enquiry was indeed held in the Waldorf-Astoria (the second part of the name comes from 'Astor'; ironically, John Jacob Astor IV died during the sinking).

Many many years ago, soldiers did used to walk around with linked arms, so it isn't actually terribly unsusual for Arthur and Alfred to do it in public (Stephen Fry seems pretty convinced they were just doing it to cover up nicking each other's medals, though).

Well, haha, my countdown didn't get the same response as the past two years and so I feel it hasn't really been exactly the same fun "interactive" experience as 2011 and 2010 - but perhaps that was my fault for choosing to set the fics this year in a pre-established fic universe. Either way, thanks to all those of you who commented and I hope everyone enjoyed reading it even if they had nothing to say.

It's a little bit late now but Merry Christmas! Hope everyone has had a lovely day. :3

xXx