Word count: 926 words

Arthur Kirkland, also known as England, finally got a week off from work because of Christmas. Usually he'd be busier around this time, but his boss had agreed to take over for him so he could get a much needed break to rest up for the next round of paperwork.
He was walking through the busy streets of London, steadily making his way home. The streets and shops were crowded with people as they were buying Christmas decorations and gifts for their families. Arthur smiled at the thought of families spending time together, but then frowned when he realized something. My family left me... he thought miserably. He sped up to get home quicker. He wanted to get away from the happy laughter and joyous singing. It reminded him too much of his past, and that was quite sorrowful. One by one, the people whom he held so dear, had left them. Even Scotland and Wales had moved out, and they're still part of the UK for bloody sake!
Arthur had finally reached his plain two-story house. It was a rather large house, but not big enough to be a mansion. That he left years ago. Jiggling the key through the keyhole, he managed to unlock the door. It opened with a pitiful creak. Arthur stepped inside and turned the hallway light on, closing the front door behind him and taking off his coat and shoes. A chill went through his body. Was it always this cold in here? he thought. He never was home at this time, so he wouldn't know since he'd stay the night at his desk in front of the mounds of paperwork he was sent. Even then, it was still warmer in there. The Brit trudged into the living room and turned on the fire place. He settled down on the couch and sighed deeply. I wonder if this year will be any different? Arthur thought tiredly, not noticing himself drifting into sleep.

Arthur had woke the next morning to a familiar voice shaking him awake.
"Oi! Wake up ye lousy git! Ye almost burnt down the 'ole house wit that fire goin' on!" the voice said. Arthur groaned as he opened his eyes, which were soon widening to the size of saucers as he saw who was shaking him awake.
"A-Allister?! What are you doing here?! And how did you get in my house!" he jerked upright. The Scot sighed and shook his head.
"Don'cha rememba? Ye gave me a spare key when I left. Still have it, ya know," he replied casually. Arthur grumbled and stood up.
"I'm going to make some tea. Make yourself comfortable if you want. If not, then leave," he muttered as he made his way to his kitchen. Scotland stared after him with a relaxed expression upon his face.

The next hour or so was spent just chatting with each other. Soon though, the old grandfather clock in the back corner of the living room struck noon, thus chiming 12 times. England stared at it absentmindedly, as he was sitting in a chair parallel to it. Allister noticed this and stopped mid-sentence. "Ye alright lad?" he asked. Arthur was snapped from his thoughts as he looked at his elder sibling.
"I'm fine. Thanks for asking," he answered. Allister sighed and grabbed the latter's arm, pulling the Brit to sit next to him. Arthur looked surprised and confused, but obliged nonetheless. He settled down, and focused his eyes on the ground.
"Now then, tell me what's on yer mind, aye?" he spoke softly. England looked at him, sadness evident in his eyes. Scotland felt sorry for him, but he remained silent.
"It's just...nobody's ever visited me for Christmas. I mean, I understand that I'm usually working, but not even a message or letter has been sent. And it made me feel kinda...lonely..." Arthur had finally answered. Next thing he knew, Allister was hugging him.
"Well, I'm sorry ye felt dis way, lad. But...ye know why I really came tae yer house?" he asked the younger man. Arthur shook his head, face buried in the Scot's chest. "It's because..." Arthur looked up at him.
"What?" Scotland sighed and let go of him. Gripping him by the sides of his shoulders, Allister looked him dead in the eyes, though with a rather soft expression on his face.
"It's because I love ya. An' not the brotherly kinda love either." England blushed.
"W-Wha...? Y-You mean you..." his voice trailed off. He was even more surprised when the Scot leaned in, placing a kiss dead on the lips. It was short and sweet, but it still happened. Scotland pulled away slightly, smiling. England looked away, muttering with a frown.
He looked back at the older man again, a disappointed look on his face. Scotland looked confused. "What's wro-"
"You didn't let me kiss back you git," he grumbled before shoving his own lips on Allister's, however this kiss lasting longer, much to the delight of both of them.
They spent the majority of that day cuddling on the couch and chatting every now and then, until Arthur decided to doze off in Allister's arms.
Scotland smiled at the smaller form and kissed his head gently. "I promise ye won' spend another holiday alone or underneath all that stressing paperwork again, me dear Artie. Merry Christmas," he whispered quietly, settling down on the couch to where the Brit was sleeping peacefully against his chest. Soon, he let sleep overtake him as well.