Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Shannon/Boone
Summary: Shannon and Boone are forced to spend New Year's Eve together after the electricity goes out. Total fluff written for LJ Lost Fanfiction Challenge #21.
"Shit," was the word that escaped both Shannon Rutherford and Boone Carlyle's mouths when the lights blacked out at quarter till eleven on New Year's Eve. Shannon had been in her room, stepping into an aquamarine tube-dress, preparing to go out, when she heard the slight crack, noticed the slight flicker, and then bam, no lights. Boone had been in the kitchen, pouring a banana smoothie out of the blender and into his glass when the trivial whirring sounds of the expensive appliances suddenly stopped, and darkness surrounded him, so extreme he couldn't even see his hand. "Boone!" He heard Shannon call from upstairs. "Where the hell are you?"
"I'm in the kitchen! Where are you?" He shouted back, putting his glass on the counter, and turning around to fumble through a drawer, looking for a flashlight. "Oh, screw it," he muttered, turning the corner of the kitchen and cautiously walking towards the staircase. He carefully stepped up each step, and when he got to the top he sighed, satisfied that he hadn't fallen over. He kept walking, desperately wishing to find his stepsister.
Shannon, meanwhile, had practically ripped the dress with one sparkling spike heel, and grabbed whatever article of clothing was nearest to her and thrown it over her head, and stepped towards her door, successfully managing to run into it first. Twisting the handle, she walked into the middle of the hall, rounding a corner to locate the staircase. She crept slowly towards the stairwell, getting closer and closer until…
"Ow!" Boone ran straight into Shannon, who swore raucously under her breath, but didn't make an effort to disrupt the contact. "Did you find a flashlight?" Boone whispered.
"No, I didn't look." Shannon sighed back. "Why are you whispering?"
"I don't know," he whispered. Suddenly, they heard a resounding thud in the sky. Shannon screamed dramatically, and grabbed onto Boone for comfort. "It's just lightning," he said, still talking quietly.
"Would you fucking stop whispering?" Shannon mouthed, rolling her eyes and quickly letting go of Boone.
"Why don't you?"
"Whatever!" Her voice managed to become a little bit louder. "Find a flashlight!"
"You better come with me," Boone told her.
"I can't – I was going to go out." Shannon said.
"And drive in that?" Boone gestured towards the window, where rain was pelting ferociously down the panes. Shannon bit her lip.
"I guess I won't leave." She allowed. "Hey!" She exclaimed, "Do you think Sabrina will drown?"
"No," Boone scoffed. "It's just rain."
"It's Southern California, Boone. It never rains."
"I beg to differ, Sunshine," he answered sarcastically, walking past her to start getting down the stairs again.
"Boone!" She squeaked. "Where are you going?"
"To get a flashlight," he responded, annoyed.
"You're not leaving me here! They are probably psycho rapists up here just waiting to pounce!" She said melodramatically.
"Well, if you were that worried, you'd probably be wearing pants." Boone pointed out smugly, stepping down a few steps. Shannon looked down, noticing that she was clad in only a t-shirt (she couldn't tell what color it was) and underwear. She gasped in surprise, but Boone was dangerously close to stepping out of her eyesight, so she grabbed his hand, pulling him towards her and yelped for him to wait up.
He found the flashlights in a cupboard in the pantry. He handed one to Shannon, and flicked on his own, but was confused when suddenly his flashlight was snatched from his fingers and quickly switched with another flashlight by a soft, manicured hand. "Shannon! What did you – "
"That flashlight was brighter!" She argued.
"So you steal it from me?" Boone tried to act annoyed, failing miserably.
"Oh, come on," Shannon dismissed. "Come on, let's see who can find the couch first!"
He found it first, thinking Shannon was far behind, so when she jumped him, resulting in a loud scream from Boone, he was the one who ended up looking stupid. "That was a pretty girly little scream there, Boone." She smirked, still in his lap, which was making it extremely difficult for Boone to think, much less construct a good comeback to refute her statement.
Shannon finally moved off of Boone, but what she was doing now wasn't much better. She was sitting right next to him, so that their knees were touching, and had her head on his shoulder, eyes closed. "What time is it?" She said finally. Boone looked down at his watch, squinting to see what it said. Taking a hint, Shannon fumbled for her flashlight and shined it onto the face of his watch for him. They both looked at it, reading the small numbers – 11:40 PM.
"Teamwork," he smiled. She giggled in response, burying her head deeper into his shoulder. Suddenly, after another earsplitting snap outside, she pulled back, screaming for dear life. "It's just thunder!" He exclaimed. "God, you'd think someone was trying to murder you," he shook his head.
"Someone is trying to murder me," she felt around the arm of the couch, searching for the blanket they usually kept there. "Making me spend the whole night with you." She located the blanket, wrapping it around herself tightly.
"Aw," he said sarcastically, "I'm touched."
"Shut up," she crossed her arms over her chest in frustration. "I hate you."
"Then why are you smiling?" He prodded. Shannon sighed, rolling her eyes, the slight smile on her face still apparent.
"Quit staring at me," she told him.
"How can you tell I'm staring at you? It's completely dark." He wondered out loud.
"Maybe I'm psychic," she threw her hands up in the air in annoyance. And then, a few seconds later, she had nestled herself against him again, muttering into his neck, "What time is it now?" He grabbed his flashlight and flipped it on.
"Eleven fifty."
"When is the fucking power going back on?" She groaned, stretching out so that she was lying on the couch and using his lap as a pillow. "I'm tired," she yawned.
"Fall asleep and you'll miss New Years," he warned, running his fingers through her hair.
"Don't," she sighed.
"Sorry," he moved his hand, humiliated, but not really knowing what else to do with it. But Shannon had other ideas – she took his hand and placed it on the small of her back underneath the blanket. He lightly tickled her skin through her shirt, and she wiggled under his touch, trying not to giggle.
"It tickles," she forced out.
"You want me to stop?" He asked.
"Not particularly." A few quiet moments passed, so quiet that he could hear her breathing. "What time is –" Unexpectedly, the lights suddenly flickered, and within seconds, all of the lights were on. He squinted into the light, his eyes not accustomed to it yet. "Oh, thank god!" She exclaimed, hopping out of his lap and grabbing the television remote from the top of the TV, flipping it on.
"Time to watch the ball drop with Dick Clark," Boone said, not realizing how incredibly wrong that sounded. Shannon did, however, and collapsed into a fit of silent hysterics.
"Boone," she said seriously once she had gotten control of herself. "Don't ever say that again." But as they heard the countdown beginning, their attention was brought back to the television.
Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four… three… two… one! Without really thinking about what she was doing, Shannon walked back over to Boone, straddled him, and started kissing him, opening his mouth with her tongue. He kissed back, not softly like she would have expected, but intensely, pressing his tongue against hers. They kissed until they ran out of breath and were forced to pull away from each other.
"Happy New Year," Shannon whispered, her arms still wrapped around his neck. He pulled her towards him, even though he knew he shouldn't, and kissed her again, his arms slung low around her waist. They kissed like they had before – until they couldn't breathe, and then pulled back, panting.
"Happy New Year," he finally responded numbly. Maybe this year would be the year his secret got out.