Ringing in the New Year
By S. Faith, © 2008
Words: 649
Rating: T / PG-13
Summary: It's just not right to not have a kiss at the stroke of midnight…
Disclaimer: While not the most flagrant of my sins against Ms F… she still owns these characters.
Notes: Silly NYE fluff, with a tiny kink of a twist. Sorry it's a bit on the belated side.
It was getting nearer and nearer, midnight was, and still she was nowhere to be found. It might have been superstitious of him, but he really wanted to spend the first seconds, minutes of the New Year with his lips pressed to hers, holding her tightly in his arms, but with no time to spare and with no one having seen her, the prospect was getting dimmer.
As he paused to think, he spotted through a crack in the parted drapes the orange glow of the end of a cigarette flare bright then fade, and it occurred to him where she might actually be.
He passed by his friends and colleagues with murmured apologies as they began the countdown to midnight, heading straight for the patio off of the back door, hoping he was right. As soon as he pushed the door open, saw the glint of light on her blonde hair and black satin dress, he knew he'd guessed right.
She turned quickly, eyes wide in surprise, as she dropped the butt end of a cigarette onto the patio stones. "Mark!"
"Bridget." He strode over to her even as he faintly heard the chanted countdown get nearer to the top of the hour. "I've been looking everywhere for you," he said somewhat desperately.
"Mark, what's the—"
She broke off as he took her roughly in his arms, covered her mouth with his as the cheering began, indicating midnight had finally arrived.
"Oh," she managed, catching her breath as he pulled away.
"Had to make sure I was spending the first moments of the New Year doing one of my favourite things with you." He slipped his hand down over the slick fabric covering her backside.
"Right," she said, looking up to him, the hazy light from the house behind him illuminating her smiling face.
His fingers traveled down, scrunching the fabric of her dress between his knuckles until he found the edge, then tugged upwards. His free hand swung through an arc and landed quite firmly upon her exposed rear. Even through the hosiery and her pants, it resounded with a loud crack.
She jumped, her mouth forming an O. "Mark! What was that for?"
"You were very naughty," he said sternly, "making me have to look for you."
"Sorry. Just got to thinking and lost track of time."
"I'm sure your craving for a cigarette had nothing to do with coming out here." He curved his fingers around her arse, just over where he'd slapped it.
She flushed at being caught red-handed with the cigarette. "It's the last one of the year," she explained. "I'm really quitting this time."
"Uh-huh." He gently squeezed, released the edge of her dress from his grip, smoothed the fabric down, then patted her rear again. "I'll have time later for punishing you for smoking."
He realised he took great pleasure in watching her look like she wasn't sure he was kidding or not: eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, blinking as if trying to comprehend his meaning, in the manner of a chastised little girl.
He chuckled and bent to plant a quick kiss on her forehead, causing her to push her lower lip out in the most adorable of pouts. "Come on, my darling little brat. Let's go inside and have our belated champagne toast." He slipped his arm around her waist and led her back into the house. As he re-entered the kitchen she broke away for another drink, and Giles sidled up beside him.
"Happy New Year," Giles said, grinning, clapping Mark on the shoulder.
"Happy New Year," Mark said in response.
"Always nice to start the New Year off with a bang," Giles said, then added in a quieter voice, "or should I say a smack?" He elbowed Mark playfully in the side, winked, then wandered away.
Mark decided on the spot not to mention Giles' comment to Bridget.
The end.