blood_winged | Advent Prompt #1

Title: Prompt #1
Genre: General/Romance
Pairing(s): USxUK
Rating: U
Warnings: None
Summary: Shortfic. Arthur is stuck on a space station with Alfred on Christmas day, and he isn't happy about it.

Prompt: Link

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***

“I can’t believe I’m doing this on Christmas,” Alfred whined as he fiddled with a couple of dials, still struggling to stay upright in the zero gravity. Behind him, with a sour look on his face, a certain blonde Englishman leaned against the opposite side of the room, two feet in the air. Every now and then he would look up, as if making sure that he wasn’t drifting too close to the ceiling. Alfred still hadn’t convinced him that it didn’t matter.

“I can’t believe you persuaded me to come with you,” he said bitterly. “I can think of so many better things to do over Christmas than being stuck in space with a crazy American who talks to himself.”

“I’m not talking to myself, dude!” the American protested, turning to his companion with a slight pout. “I’m talking to Tony.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, and pushed away from the wall, ducking through the nearest doorway. He hadn’t wanted to be here, and when he thought about it now he couldn’t quite recall exactly how Alfred had managed to convince him. Something to do with the words ‘you’ll only be sat on your own, and that’s pretty sad, Artie’ and possibly something about how Arthur would ‘never be able to cope with being in space’ had ruffled both his temper and his pride. He stopped himself, with one hand against the wall. Alfred really was far more intelligent than Arthur gave him credit for. And yet...

“Oh yes, Tony...” The scathing, disbelieving words filtered back clearly through the still air to the now lightly frowning younger man. “Because believing you’re talking to an alien is so much better than thinking you’re talking to yourself.”

“... That was uncalled for,” Alfred muttered, pressing a few buttons and then heading after him, leaving a small, annoyed looking alien behind. “What’s got you so moody, anyway, Artie?”

They faced each other across the hallway, a long, hard look shared between them before Arthur sighed and glanced out of one of the small windows beside Alfred’s head. He shrugged, a barely noticeable rise and fall of his shoulders, and pushed one hand through his hair. At least the two of them had long since got over poking fun at each other for the unfortunate effect that zero gravity had on their hairstyles.

“I just... this isn’t how I imagined spending Christmas.” He made a small gesture. “It’s so... sterile. If I were home I’d have decorations up and a tree, and lights, and candles, and... and...”

“I didn’t know you liked Christmas so much, Arthur...” Alfred sighed, and rubbed his nose. If he had his way, space stations wouldn’t just be white and grey and more grey, and in the very least the place where he spent his time would have some character to it.

“Are you kidding? I love Christmas.”

“Well... You never talk about it or anything, you know... How was I supposed to know!?”

“You lived with me for-! You know what, nevermind. It’s Christmas. We shouldn’t be arguing.” He frowned, and Alfred looked suitably shamefaced for a brief moment before his expression brightened again and he rubbed his hands together.

“Well, even if we can’t have everything looking all festive, we can still celebrate, right?”

“How?”

“Easy!”

Arthur stiffened then, finding himself pulled abruptly against the American, strong arms wrapping around him. He swallowed, and turned his face against Alfred’s shoulder, his palms pressed flat against the younger nation’s chest. He almost pushed him away. Almost, then he heard Alfred speak, and he circled his arms loosely around the other man’s waist, relaxing against him slowly. Alfred patted his back lightly, and though Arthur couldn’t see it, he could feel the American smiling.

“Merry Christmas, Artie,” Alfred said. It was hard to imagine Christmas without everything that came with it, but maybe, just maybe, this would be enough. He smiled.

“Merry Christmas, Alfred.”