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Arthur hated calling the IT Department.
Their publishing company was small and so there were only two IT guys. They did their jobs well and, by all accounts, Arthur should get on well with them, particularly since, due to budget restraints, he had an older model of computer. It was slow and often developed bugs of some sort. Gilbert would turn up quickly for a good gossip, cup of tea, biscuits and to actually fix the computer.
It was Alfred which made Arthur hate picking up the phone to call down for some help.
Alfred had been a part of the company before Arthur had been recruited. As a prank for the new guy, something to 'welcome' them, Alfred had thought it would be funny to programme his computer to shut down within half an hour of him working. With unsaved progress and half-written e-mails, Arthur had been panicked, sure he was going to be fired. When Alfred had appeared to help him and laughed at his consternation, Arthur had been furious. Their resulting argument had gone down in history – along with every ensuing one.
Thankfully, that was the only ugly mark on Arthur's fledgling career as a publisher.
At least, it was the only thing he disliked until several months later when Christmas arrived and he found out about one of the peculiar traditions of the company he had joined. It was one of the few times he wondered whether quitting would retain his sanity...
"Right, everyone," said Elizaveta Hérdéváry, hands on her hips. The publishers and assistants and cleaners and that damned IT department stopped their murmurs and turned their attention to their boss. Arthur pointedly ignored Alfred as much as he could despite sensing his stares and mocking sniggering. "Alfred!" Elizaveta cried, finally getting him to shut up. "Do I need to gag you?"
"Oh, that would be interesting," Francis piped up.
Arthur slid his gaze towards him, frowning. "I can't quite tell what you mean by that," he muttered to his colleague. Francis only smirked back at him.
"Now that you're all quite finished..." Elizaveta said, voice strained as she spoke through gritted teeth.
"Sorry, Liz," echoed around the room as the chatter finally stopped.
"Right," she said again. "As you all know Christmas is coming up. And I know you're all working hard so we can release some of our amazing romances on the world. So, as we do every year, we're going to organise a Christmas party."
Murmurs broke out. Feliciano seemed rather excited, chattering into Ludwig's ear. Mei was grinning at Kiku and tugging at his arm in an attempt to get him as riled up as she was. Francis was already musing upon what sort of food he should make for the event. And, over it all, Alfred's harsh, annoying voice rolled over everything, though Arthur couldn't make out his words.
Arthur himself wasn't particularly bothered by it. Christmas had never been an especially good time of the year for him and the last time he'd felt perfectly content and filled with Christmas cheer had been when he still believed in Santa Claus. All the magic had gone from the affair and, in its absence, cynicism had settled. He'd efficiently bought all his Christmas presents already and had nothing to do: he was absolutely fed up with the holiday already and they were only in November.
It looked as though he was going to have to summon some enthusiasm, though. A party would be fun, if he ignored the 'Christmas' part.
Elizaveta waited till the noise had died down before speaking again. "Since it's a large undertaking, I'm going to pick two names from a hat in order to decide which two people are going to be organising it for us. No protests or arguments," she added with a stern finger. She picked up her pink, woollen hat, the one with the large flower pinned to it, which Arthur had seen her bring in and wondered about. "So, the first person to be doing this is..." Deftly, she plucked out a folded piece of paper. Using finger and thumb, she slid the paper open and raised an eyebrow. "Alfred."
"Oh, all right!" Alfred yelled from the back of the room. "This is gonna be the biggest, bestest, most awesomest Christmas party in the history of Christmas parties!"
"I doubt that," Arthur muttered to Francis. His friend – to use the term loosely – rolled his eyes at his antagonism and sighed.
"Really, darling, you need to get over this strange hatred you have of him," he said. "It's not good for you."
"And," said Elizaveta over the top of them all, brow furrowed as she glared at those who were speaking, "the next person is..." She pulled another name from the hat, set the hat down, unfolded it – and smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. Arthur felt a shiver go down his spine and felt sorry for whoever was about to be landed the job- "Ah, that person is Arthur."
Everyone went silent. Not a word was said. Breaths were held. Nobody moved. Arthur stared at Elizaveta. Then, heart hammering in his chest, he whipped his head around to stare, wide-eyed, at an equally shocked Alfred. They stayed like that for a few seconds before Alfred's expression began to change, his face falling, brow furrowing. Arthur looked back to Elizaveta and gave her a pleading look.
"Liz..."
"Nope!" she said, cheerfully. "You two are doing this. Maybe, this way, you can stop your silly feud. Now, I've not got much else to discuss for this meeting. Just a little note about..."
Arthur tuned her out, his heart sinking as he wondered how on Earth he was going to be able to organise something for his colleagues when he had to work with his worst enemy. Turning his head slightly, he caught Alfred glaring at him. He glared right back and knew, deep in his core, that the next few weeks were going to be awful.
After the meeting, with Alfred distracted by his fellow IT guy, Arthur managed to scurry away back to his office. Once there and the door was closed behind him, he relaxed significantly. He liked it in here, with the various manuscripts and first editions of books he'd help publish or ones he just liked having on hand or previous ones in a series so he could reference them. His desk was surrounded by filing cabinets that he kept meticulously organised as well as the files on his computer, one which had the largest memory of any computer he had ever worked on, despite its slow processing. Apart from the monitor and the keyboard on the little drawer beneath it, his desk consisted of a lot of pens, a tray for organising his post and several piles of documents. At the moment, since Elizaveta had interrupted his morning work for her meeting, it was in a state of organised chaos.
Settling in his rolling chair, he sighed and let his shoulders droop, tugging at his shirt collar. He felt a little on edge from the added workload from the party, despite not having started doing anything yet. However, he hoped that he could calm himself down by doing the sort of work he actually enjoyed. Planning for the party could begin after work and, he decided, it would be best if he came up with ideas and handed them over to Alfred for him to deal with instead of having actual, physical meetings.
Drawing a manuscript towards him, Arthur had barely remembered where he had gotten up to when the door burst open without a knock. He didn't need to look up to know who it was and glowered across the room at Alfred who was scowling back at him. "What do you want?" Arthur demanded.
"We're meant to be working together," Alfred told him, sternly.
"Only for the party," Arthur corrected him. "I'm on the clock – and so are you. Go back to your little room in the basement and whatever you do down there all day."
Alfred's scowl deepened. "You know fine well we're not in the basement-"
"I don't care. Get out of my office."
Sighing, Alfred tried again. "We need to make a list of things we need to do for this party. So I'm not leaving till we do this." He stalked into the room and let himself drop into the comfortable armchair that Arthur had personally brought in for authors and other important visitors to feel relaxed in during meetings.
"And I refuse to talk about the Christmas party until I've at least finished work today."
With that being said, he returned his attention to the manuscript, his red pen in hand as he circled a few paragraphs about something he felt was inane to the plot. He tried not to be too conscious of Alfred's presence in the room but he couldn't help wondering if he was going to do something stupid like mess up his desk to get Arthur's attention. Nervously, he shuffled his papers around a little, trying to remember what he was trying to work on. Glancing at his computer, he realised that he hadn't booted it up since he came back from the meeting and would need to in order to check his e-mails. Just as he was about to reach out to turn it on, Alfred suddenly stood, making Arthur jolt in surprise.
"Fine," said Alfred, shortly. "I'll wait for you after work." And he strode from the room, leaving the door wide open.
Arthur sighed and prayed for patience.
Whoever was watching over him didn't give him any.
Over the course of the next few weeks, Arthur's temper flared frequently enough that he couldn't remember the last time he hadn't been irritated and had been content. Their first meeting took place in a McDonald's since Arthur couldn't shake Alfred and the other man wanted food. Arthur had never had an argument in a McDonald's but, when they couldn't agree on a venue, Arthur had to storm out in lieu of being thrown out.
Whenever they discussed it, they argued about every single detail. The venue (Alfred wanted to have it in the office while Arthur thought they should take it out of the workplace); the music (Alfred wanted loud pop music while Arthur thought it would be better to have gentle ballads); the decorations (Arthur thought they should be minimalist with white being the predominant colour while Alfred was adamant there should be more colour); the food and drink (Alfred wanted to have a huge spread while Arthur thought there shouldn't be too much in order to keep waste down); the possibility of gifts (Alfred wanted to do Secret Santa but Arthur had pointed out how long it was taking them to organise the party, let alone a Secret Santa as well); the games (which Arthur didn't want to have). Every single time they had a difference of opinion, there was a loud argument with shouting and slamming doors. Most of their discussions happened in the office and their colleagues were equal parts amused and exasperated.
The day of the party drew nearer (another thing disagreed on) and their arguments grew worse. That was because Arthur was getting more and more fed up with the holiday. With every fight, he felt his chest hurting. Alfred's disdain and hatred was clear and he couldn't figure out why it had only seemed to become worse. He began to dread going to the office and dread talking to anyone. His work began to fall behind, his efficiency dropping as he fumed or worried or fought.
Struggling, Arthur watched the calendar, counting down the days until he'd be free...
Finally, it was upon them.
After compromising a lot, they had decided to have it in their biggest conference room. Since Alfred had insisted on a Christmas tree and other decorations, they were set to decorate straight after work the day before the party. Arthur really just wanted to get home as soon as possible so he made sure everything they needed was in the conference room by four o'clock. He also managed to convince Francis, Antonio and Gilbert to help him shift the tables out so they'd have room to work.
So, when five o'clock hit, Arthur made sure to clock out, say goodnight to all his colleagues with a weary smile and returned to the room. Alfred was waiting for him and he sighed upon seeing Alfred's cheerful expression. It looked a little strained at the edges.
"Huh," said Alfred. "I was half-expecting you to bail on me."
"Why would I do that?" Arthur said, moving over to the huge box of multi-coloured baubles and streamers and God only knew what else. "This is my responsibility as well. I'm not going to duck out of it."
"Sure," Alfred muttered, sounding peeved.
"Let's just get this over with. I'll decorate the window and you decorate over there." Arthur gestured towards the door.
There was no answer but, when Arthur glanced over his shoulder, he saw that the bespectacled blond was working on opening a long box. Thankful that they wouldn't be continuing any sort of conversation, Arthur began to unravel the tinsel and set aside the baubles ready for the tree. They were huge monstrosities, multi-coloured, all red and green and silver and gold and white and pink, for some reason. There were also huge decals to go on the floor to ceiling windows, all of them in colour, including Santa and a nativity scene. Arthur frowned at the fact that there wouldn't be any snowflakes to stick up, except for the paper ones which would hang from the ceiling and make it impossible to move around the room.
He got to work, deciding to put the decals on the windows first. They were pretty simple so he was finished with them quickly. Passing by Alfred who was struggling to get the bottom part of the fake tree connected with the rest of it, Arthur went into the hall where a step-ladder had been left for their use. Arthur wordlessly set it up in one corner and climbed up, a large, paper snowflake in one hand. He pinned it to the ceiling before climbing back down. Three of them were hanging up before he noticed just where Alfred had placed the tree.
"What's that doing there?" Arthur demanded, gesturing at it.
"Huh?" said Alfred, looking up from where he was hanging the baubles on the little fake branches.
"The tree. You've put it in front the window. How are people supposed to see that ridiculous snowman you made me put up?"
"It's not ridiculous," Alfred protested, glaring at Arthur as he descended from on high. "And I want people to see it as they come in."
Arthur looked around the room. The floor to ceiling windows took up nearly the entire wall on one side of the room. Opposite it, the door was in one corner and the tree at the far end of the room. Glancing at the free corner pointedly, Arthur said, "You don't think they'd see it there?"
"But there's not enough impact," Alfred insisted. "It has to be here."
"Then what was the point in the snowman?!" Arthur exclaimed, completely done with Alfred's strange determination on what they should have at the party. All of their decisions had come down to the flip of a coin and Arthur had only won on the Secret Santa and games suggestions. Everything else had to be exactly as Alfred envisioned or it would 'ruin Christmas'.
"Y'know, for added Christmas cheer!"
"No!" snapped Arthur. "Move the tree!"
Alfred frowned. "No; it's perfect here."
"Don't be so stupid! Everyone will be able to see it in that other corner," Arthur said, pointing at it.
"Why're you trying to ruin my fun?" Alfred demanded.
"I'm not. I just think it would be best to make sure everyone will enjoy it instead of just you."
"You're just being a Scrooge! A mean, uptight, horrid... person!" declared Alfred once he'd clearly run out of adjectives to use against him.
"Oh, look at the pot calling the kettle black!" Arthur snapped, batting aside one of the giant snowflakes that was getting on his nerves.
"What's that supposed to mean?!"
"You did that horrifying prank on me on my first day! How did you not think that was mean?"
"It was just a joke," Alfred tried to defend himself, though he looked uncomfortable.
"You laughed in my face!" Arthur yelled, his hands now curled into fists. "And you never bothered to apologise! I don't know what you were thinking, but you quite clearly don't want me here."
"What? No. I-"
"Don't deny it!" Arthur interrupted him, unable to stop the words tumbling from his lips. "You hate me! It's quite obvious!"
"I don't hate you!" Alfred exclaimed, eyes wide behind his glasses. "I-"
"You definitely don't like me."
"It's not as if you made yourself likeable," Alfred said, hands raised as if to defend himself or placate Arthur.
"Well, I'm sorry that this is a job I've worked hard for. I'm sorry I desperately want to keep this job. I'm sorry that I don't want to be fired and I'm bloody terrified that I'll do something to make that happen. And you walk in, with your stupid grin and your inane comments and- and- and you made me believe I could lose this – everything – all of this- because of-" Arthur had to stop, panting a little, to take a deep breath and get his thoughts in order.
"That's..." Alfred tried to say but Arthur cut him off.
"I love this job," he told Alfred, anger still thrumming through him and prompting him to speak. "But I dread coming in here because of you."
Alfred seemed to freeze at that, his eyes getting impossibly wider. "I..."
"You don't need to make an excuse," Arthur snarled, worked up now. He could feel the pressure in his head as he fought against the tears. "I don't want to hear it!" Turning away from Alfred, he stalked away. Noting the sheer amount of decorations they still had to put up, Arthur slumped. There was no way he could continue working after blowing up at Alfred. He turned back to him but, before he could say anything, he found Alfred weakly smiling at him.
"Okay," he said. "Look. It's Christmas. You need to just relax a bit, all right? Then, in the New Year-"
"'Relax'?" said Arthur, incredulously. "'Relax'?! Don't tell me to 'relax'! Do you think this is some sort of joke!"
"No! No, no, I don't, I-"
"I've had enough!" Arthur glanced up at the snowflake he had batted at before and whacked it as hard as he could. It ripped with a horrible tearing noise, flopping on its string. Part of it fell down in pieces so that it looked as though it was actually snowing.
"Hey!" cried Alfred, looking at the ruined decoration in dismay.
"Put the rest up by yourself," Arthur told him as he turned away from him. "I'm going home."
"What?! Arti- Arthur, c'mon. You can't – if you don't help me, the party'll be ruined!"
"Well, just you wait till next year and I won't be 'ruining' your party."
"What?!" Alfred yelped. "What, Arthur, wait! What did that mean?" Arthur paused in the doorway and sent him a look meant to convey the implications: he imagined he looked equal parts angry, exhausted and upset. Alfred's mouth dropped open. "No, wait, Arthur, don't-!" But Arthur turned his head away, shook it hurriedly and rushed off before his emotions got the better of him.
Arthur didn't sleep that night.
At first, his anger had fuelled him through a few hours of housework before he retired to bed. There, he'd fumed – until it faded. It was swiftly replaced by shame and guilt and regret. He'd left Alfred to decorate on his own. No doubt, he wouldn't be finished by the next night. Everyone would be disappointed that their party was a failure. Maybe they wouldn't bother next year.
The worse part, of course, had been his rant to Alfred. It wasn't his fault that Arthur had been far too stressed. He shouldn't have shouted at him. And he definitely shouldn't have revealed so much to the man. His worst enemy. The only person he didn't want to know his personal thoughts and feelings.
It made him shudder.
But, the worst guilt he felt was that Elizaveta's treat to her employees had gone up in smoke. There was no way that he could see for them to salvage the party. However, Arthur had a thought just before he dropped off to sleep. There was one thing none of them were going to get at the party, that none of them would expect and that might make it up to them.
Which was why he threw his clothes on early the next morning, stepped into his shoes, grabbed his coat and wallet and ventured out into the horror of the high street during the Christmas rush. There were a lot of people to buy for and he had to make sure all of the gifts were perfect. Especially Alfred's – it would need to stand in as Christmas present and apology.
Later that day, around the time people would be beginning to reach the office for the supposed party, Arthur returned. He was absolutely exhausted from going to and from every sort of shop imaginable. His wallet was considerably lighter and he hoped he'd be able to survive until he was paid again. Then he'd had to rush home so he could wrap everything in boxes with plain red paper and golden ribbons. Finally finished, he'd rushed to the offices and quietly made his way in, careful not to be noticed as he swiped his way through the floor's secure locks.
Playing at Santa – of a sort – Arthur slipped into each office, leaving the appropriate present to be found whenever they next arrived there. For Elizaveta, who kept her office locked with an actual key, he pinned it to the door, close enough to her name plaque that the tiny hole would hopefully not be noticeable afterwards. Mission complete, he heaved a sigh and let the tension seep out of him, slumping a little as he made his way back to the door, intent on leaving. A noise from the makeshift party room stopped him. Was Alfred in there, still trying to get it all ready for everyone?
Cautious, eyes darting to and fro in the hope that he wouldn't be seen, Arthur sidled up to the door. He placed his hand on the doorknob. With a deep breath, he turned the handle and slowly pushed it open, peering through it. He froze at what he saw, confused.
When he had left the night before, the majority of the decorations had been bright and cheerful. The tree had been large and rather imposing. Wrecked, gigantic paper monstrosities hung in one corner of the room. Boxes had covered the floor.
Now, the floor was mostly clear. A table had been pushed against the far wall, laden with food and a punch bowl. Beneath it, hundreds of various bottles were nestled – Arthur even spied several packets of paper cups. The windows had been stripped of the giant stickers that Arthur had painstakingly and smoothly put on. Instead, the windows seemed to be dusted by light snow or frost, icicles hanging down from above. Icicles also hung from the ceiling, lit up and slowly pulsing a pretty glow. A thinner, smaller tree, sprayed with snow and covered in muted coloured baubles stood in the corner Arthur had told Alfred to put his only 24 hours before. Standing proud atop it was a golden fairy, silver wand held high. Seats were pushed against what space was left, covered in sheets and foil and wire to make them appear as if they had been roughly carved out of snow. Gentle, slow music flowed from a music player somewhere. Silver tinsel was draped anywhere it could be without being in the way.
And it was full of people. Francis and Elizaveta and Gilbert and... Everyone. They were all there, chatting away. No-one had drinks. Ludwig had a rectangular box under one arm. Leaning against his back, Feliciano had his tongue stuck out as he painstakingly wrote out a card. Searching around the room, Arthur quickly spotted Alfred as well. He was working with Kiku, wrestling with a chair and a sheet.
"Urgh, Keeks, why won't this one work?" he said, voice carrying across the room.
"You are rushing," Kiku answered politely.
"He'll be here soon!"
"If he even-" Francis began but he glanced at the door as he spoke and his eyes widened. "Arthur!" he cried and Alfred immediately dropped the chair onto Kiku's foot.
"Artie!" he exclaimed, spinning around.
"'Artie'?" Arthur questioned, quite unable to wrap his head around what he was seeing.
"Uh. Yeah, um. You made it! Merry Christmas!" The others echoed the sentiment.
"What... What is all this?" Arthur asked, stepping into the room and noticing the concertinaed paper snowmen curving across the wall. "I thought you wanted bright colours and... 'happiness' or whatever it was you said."
"Uh," Alfred said again, eyes drawn to the floor. "I... I'm sorry."
"What?" said Arthur flatly, unable to quite understand what was happening.
"I've been a real jerk," Alfred admitted before sheepishly looking up at Arthur, hand rubbing at the back of his head. "I'm sorry. What I did on your first day... It was really stupid but... I'd only wanted to make you laugh. I didn't think about what it would mean to you. And laughing at you. And... everything else." He stopped to take a deep breath. Then he looked up at Arthur, closing the gap between them so he could look Arthur in the eye. "I shouldn't have..." Alfred faltered. "Er, what's the word. Made you feel left out?"
"Alienated," Francis informed him.
"That's it! I shouldn't have alienated you."
"None of us should've," Gilbert piped up. "Al's like one of the family and... I dunno, I suppose we just naturally took his side in a lot of stuff."
"So this is to, like, make up for that!" Alfred declared, spreading his arms wide to show off the room. "If, y'know, it can."
"This is for you," Ludwig said, stepping up beside them. "From all of us."
"And this, too!" Feliciano exclaimed, handing over the card he'd hastily stuffed into the envelope.
Arthur looked at all of them, perplexed. Had they really banded together to sort out the party and welcome him properly? What could they possibly have gotten him? Hesitant, he reached out to take the items. He opened the box first, his curiosity getting the better of him. Inside, a wide strip of metal rested. He pulled it out – and gasped.
A. Kirkland
Publisher
"We got it engraved today," Alfred explained. "It cost a lot to get it done 'cause of short notice and how busy they were so I hadta get everyone else to pitch in and then word got around and... this happened." He swept his hand around the room.
Stunned, Arthur shook his head. "You... You didn't need to. I mean... I've been horrible, too. I'm so sorry Alfred. I shouldn't have-"
"Nah, it's fine. Not your fault," said Alfred dismissively, smiling at Arthur. It was a rather soft, fond smile, Arthur thought, and it was a little disconcerting that Alfred had that expression for him. He ducked his head, smiling himself. His heart felt warmer, happy tears blurring his vision.
"I just... thank you," Arthur said. He clutched the present to his chest and wondered if he should tell them all about their presents. Then he decided it could be a surprise for them. Nobody needed to know what he'd done.
"Yeah." Alfred put a friendly hand on Arthur's shoulder which made him rather embarrassed, unused to this sort of attention. "Merry Christmas, Artie. And welcome to Ero Cup Publishing."