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His arm burned as he raised it, the sleeve of his red sweater tightening around his bicep, the hem at the bottom riding up his stomach. Around him, a crowd flittered by, some offering waves and cheerful hellos, others wiggling the ladder he stood on.
Alfred F. Jones made sure to kick those in the second group.
Just a little higher, and the mistletoe was finally hung. He slowly let it drop from his fingers, its red ribbon swinging precariously on the hook. Letting out a sigh of relief, Alfred slowly scaled down the ladder and glanced upward to admire his work. Mission complete.
Now, onto the next one: finding Arthur.
His boyfriend had disappeared amongst the throng of partygoers, his impenetrable host mentality having peeked its head the moment guests walked through the door.
Impenetrable, at least, until the crowd outnumbered him to the point where he couldn’t move without bumping into someone. He was sure Arthur would disappear then, if he hadn’t already.
Alfred started in the kitchen, waiting until the doorway was clear before stepping through. Alfred popped his head in to check, scanning for that gelled head of hair.
Nothing.
He received a few waves for his endeavor, which he made sure to return before leaving. Alfred turned, bumping into someone before he could see who it was.
Oh.
Arthur took a step back, the small frown on his face sending Alfred’s heart racing. He smiled, pulling Arthur into a tight hug, digging his nose into the crook of his neck.
He felt Arthur deflate in his arms, fingers sliding up his sides and settling at the small of his back. “Arthur?”
“Hm?” Arthur’s voice was clear in his ear.
Alfred lifted his head, unable to keep the grin off his face. He had him. “Look up.”
His grin grew even wider when Arthur noticed the mistletoe hanging from the doorway, the one he’d hung just minutes before.
“I’ll be taking that kiss now.” He puckered his lips, leaning in.
Arthur put two fingers to his mouth, softly tsking. “You need to close your eyes first.”
Alfred did as he was told, sealing his eyes shut and waiting expectantly. A hand slid over them, the cold of Arthur’s fingers pressing against his forehead.
The kiss was fleeting, nothing but a small peck, but Alfred kept his eyes closed, hoping for a second, much longer one. When nothing came after a few seconds, he finally opened them.
Arthur was gone.
Fuck.
He turned around, looking to see if he had managed to slip past him. Arthur was certainly thin enough to do so, even with the narrow doorway. The crowd was too dense to catch him, not without getting stopped several times and pulled into hour-long conversations. But hell, Arthur could manage, if he really wanted to.
He wasn’t in the kitchen, nor in the living room or study. So that only left-
Alfred glanced towards the stairs leading to the second floor and continued his search.
It was against a host’s protocol to leave his guests on a different floor, but Alfred supposed that this would be the exception; Alfred’s entire game plan had changed in the span of 5 seconds ascending the stairs; from getting Arthur to kiss him to just… getting Arthur to come back downstairs.
The sudden abruptness of the kiss and the speed at which he had decided to leave made Alfred absolutely paranoid. He was sure that it was something he did wrong there. Maybe Arthur didn’t like mistletoe… or maybe it was because there had been too many people staring?
Alfred swallowed, hands nervously tugging on the sleeves on his sweater as he finally settled on the thought. That last point might have been it; Arthur was definitely not a fan of crowds and that most definitely could be a factor.
“Stupid…” he murmured to himself, finally reaching the last stair and tunnelling right into the bedroom.
“Arthur?” Alfred knocked on the door, ear leaning onto the wood.
No response.
“Arthur I’m coming in.”
With a wrist turn, Alfred quickly discovered that the doorknob had been unsurprisingly locked to prevent him from entering.
“Arthur, let me in. Come on. I wanna talk. I obviously did something wrong and you’re not telling me what it is.”
There was a shuffling of pillows that was heard, but Alfred hadn’t picked up any other sound following that.
“Arthur, seriously. We have guests downstairs and I would rather not have them see us disagreeing like this.”
The door swung open, causing Alfred to stumble inside with a sudden yelp. Arthur stepped back, clearly not having expected the other to be so close, but the second that Alfred caught his footing, Arthur retreated back onto the bed.
It seemed that Arthur had turned on the television to a random channel to appear like he was occupied in the span of time Alfred was hunting for the Englishman. The screen was showing a clip of A Christmas Story, but with sound so low that Alfred barely picked it up over the talking from downstairs.
“Arthur–”
“If you’re asking for a redo, I’m not giving it to you,” said Arthur icily, continuing to watch the practically muted program. “Just bugger off and let me be alone, can’t you? You have more than enough guests downstairs to occupy your time.”
“Arthur,” argued Alfred, leaning back against the door resting on the wall. “Seriously, dude. That’s not fair. You gotta at least tell me what it is that’s bothering you or else I don’t want to talk to anyone else in the evening until we’re okay. What was it? Was it too many people staring…?”
Arthur groaned, lifting a hand to his face as he gave an exhausted exhale as if had only collected his thoughts just then.
“Alfred,” he began. “Did you really expect me to just be content with me being the main spectacle for an audience? I mean … I get it, of course. It’s Christmas and you want to us to be that ideal couple that everyone always expects us to be. But I don’t…” Arthur took another breath, staring at the floor to avoid Alfred’s concerned gaze. “You just made me look like a prize in front of everyone. Like you had to show me off or something. And maybe that’s something that’s good on you but…”
Alfred felt his chest stiffen. God, had he really gone that far into ruining Arthur’s night? Alfred went to close the door to the room, finally allowing the two of them the opportunity to speak in their own quarters privately.
“Hey…” interrupted Alfred, coming a little closer to the other on the mattress. Arthur visibly hesitated, almost turning his head away, but Alfred persisted.
“I didn’t mean it to come off like that, Artie. Really. I’m… really sorry. You know I wouldn’t want to purposely make you look bad in front of everyone.”
Arthur sighed. “I know you didn’t mean it like that. Of course, you didn’t. I just… I wanted to bring it up much earlier in the party. But I didn’t want to kill your mood before everything started. It just didn’t make sense to make you upset like that.”
Alfred now frowned at that. He took his place right next to Arthur, laying down on the bed, practically spooning the man as a way to comfort him.
“You can’t expect me to be happy at a party if my own boyfriend isn’t happy.” said Alfred. “I know everything still under construction with us. But you gotta learn to trust me and tell me if I’m doing something like this to you. It’s like a Yelp review; you gotta leave me some feedback so I can get better at this whole… relationship thing!”
It was an honest statement. Alfred already knew he wasn’t an expert into reading into Arthur’s emotions just yet; they had only been together for the last 3 months and he still had yet to map out all of the other’s idiosyncrasies and quirks. Alfred just liked the idea of making Arthur feel special… but perhaps this was also one of the unknowns of introverts; a category of people that Alfred knew next to nothing about.
At the response, Arthur rolled his eyes but chortled passively.
“That’s the worst comparison you’ve come up with to this day.”
“I’m 100% serious though,” insisted Alfred, burying his nose right on the crook of Arthur’s neck. “Come back downstairs. I’ll promise that I’ll stay by you all night if you want. Your own personal chauffeur.”
“You’re too much,” Arthur sighed as he closed his eyes a second time. “But I guess I do also owe you an apology as well.”
Arthur shuffled around, meeting Alfred’s gaze as he stared into his soft blue eyes. Alfred couldn’t help it but lean in, taking another kiss on Arthur’s lips. It was much longer this time; the redo that Alfred had wanted to experience.
“Is that the apology?” teased Alfred, soon placing his kisses on Arthur’s eyebrows and nose. “Can I have more of those?”
“Of course you can. But careful,” warned Arthur, laughing. “Keep this up, and you won’t have any kisses left for next year.”