"It's easy, Lola! You just kiss when the clock hits zero!"
James boisterous nature is only heightened thanks to the - how many has it been already? - numerous drinks he's had 'in celebration'. Jane still doesn't know the meaning of New Years even if it is, technically, her own people's tradition, but, then again, when has she had the time to learn it all?
No better time then now to figure it out, right?
So, with the twin terrors in bed and drinks down her gullet, Jane has decided to try everything that comes with New Years. First was the huge dinner and party rounded up by fireworks over the water, then the difficult task of throwing the kids in bed, and, finally, the goal of getting shitfaced and ready for the 'big zero'.
Biting her lip in thought of whether or not James isn't just talking out of his ass, her mate swaggers to her side, smelling strongly of the turian brandy Arcanus has spoiled him with over the years. He purrs tenderly, wraps his arm around her shoulder, and nuzzle her cheek. "Kissing sounds like something I can get behind," he whispers with a seductive growl.
She snorts. "You're drunk, Garrus."
"Mm… Maybe." He takes her empty glass and hands it to a passing Kasumi in silent request to bring a refill of rum and coke. "But maybe you're just not drunk enough."
"Someone has to help you find the bed tonight," she responds with a smirk, delighting in his low growl of approval at the thought. "However… if you're too drunk, I guess I'll just have to do it on my own…"
"I can live with that," he says with a chuckle and nip to her cheek as a deviously grinning thief returns with another full glass for the both of them. "But I think I remember hearing something about it being good luck to do it together in the new year."
Jane laughs and looks up to smile at him, warmed by more than the drink in her system. Gods, how she could drown in his beautiful blue eyes and that voice, ridiculous, drunken flirts aside. "I think someone has been shitting you." Amusement lowering to a chuckle, she caresses his scarred mandible. "But I don't really know tradition."
"Then we'll make our own." Her mate purrs and cups her cheek, thumb stroking the heated flush from the alcohol. "I love-". The crew's shouts drown out any sentiments they may share and Garrus leans down, breath hot and intoxicating against her lips.
"Five! Four! Three! Two!...One!"
Shouts, whistles, and cheers fill the crisp beach air as fireworks burst in the sky, but all is forgotten as she closes the distance between them. Cupping his plated face, Jane presses her lips to her husband's mouth plates and lets his much more nimble tongue enter.
As their tastes mix and tongue tangle, Jane thinks that this is definitely a tradition she can get used to.