Summary: The Winx girls and Red Fountain boys celebrate January 1st with some vows for the New Year

Disclaimer: I do not own Winx Club.
Author's Note: Written for the Winx Writers Anonymous Themed Christmas 2009 prompt.
Resolutions

The Winx girls clasped hands and pushed their way through the teeming crowds of downtown Magix.

"We are so late!" Bloom shouted over her shoulder, squeezing between a pair of blond twins doing tequila shooters. Flora squeaked a short "I'm so sorry!" as she jogged one twin's arm.

Tecna, at the back of the pack, did some rapid calculations. "Forty-seven minutes late," she called unhelpfully in Bloom's general direction. The crowd was so densely packed that she could only see Musa (whose hand she grasped for all she was worth) and occasional glimpses of Stella's golden pigtails.

Layla, the tallest of the group, paused briefly to stand on her tippy-toes and scan the never-ending sea of heads and hairstyles for their unmistakable heroes-in-training. "I don't see them anywhere!" she fumed, exasperated.

"Whose bright idea was this, anyway?" Bloom said ironically. Behind her, Stella cracked a smile. (The opportunity to attend a Times-Square-esque ball-drop celebration – her dream since she was a kid – had been too good for Bloom to pass up.)

Musa stuck a finger in one ear and clenched the earpiece of her mobile phone to the other in the same way she might hold a plug to a leaky dam about to burst. "Where are you guys?" she shouted. "I can't hear—I said, where are you guys?...The mountain? What mountain? What are you talking about?...Oh, the fountain, okay. Don't move, we'll come find you. No, don't move! Don't—shit!" Musa cursed, flipping the phone closed with frustrated gusto. "Dropped my signal. Head for the fountain, Bloom! Hopefully they'll stay put."

"Well, I hope they do," Flora fretted. "We're nearly out of time!"

"Bloom! BLOOM! Over here!" Six voiced rang out in unison, cutting dully through the roar of the crowd. The boys were standing on the raised concrete sides of the fountain's pool, waving their arms like lunatics. Bloom veered toward them just as a deafening cheer erupted from the mouths of the thousands of Magixians gathered.

'Just in time' – Flora could only see Brandon mouth the words, though he was speaking at the top of his lungs.

The twelve swiveled their heads toward the top of the tallest skyscraper in the square, where a huge, iridescent glass polyhedron had so many faces it threw glittering patches of light over all of the partygoers below. The crowd chanted as it made its slow descent into the year 2010.

"Ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two...ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Nabu caught Layla's eye. She moved toward him, and he went in for the kiss, only to get a face full of curly brown hair, as she had opted for a celebratory hug. They both blushed and looked at the ground. Nabu smiled nervously and took her hand, pressing his lips to her palm.

Layla's free hand clutched at her stomach, which had chosen that second to start fluttering mad(dening)ly. 'This year,' she thought, 'I'm going to trust my parents' judgment. Maybe.'

Her heart gave a giddy throb, and she pulled Nabu into a tight embrace. 'Okay, okay,' she thought grudgingly. 'I'll definitely trust them on this one!'

Sky gripped Bloom's waist as she smiled and gave him the best kiss he'd ever had. He loved Everything about her, from the way she still shyly bit her lip and looked away when he gazed at her, transfixed, amazed, to the way her wild red locks stuck to her lip gloss and she didn't even care, and Great Dragon, her smile...

'Dammit,' he thought stubbornly, 'you know what, this year my parents are going to trust my judgment on this one.' He held her tight and kissed her again and again.

Brandon playfully took Stella's hand and made a path of sloppy, wet kisses up her bare arms. "Ze pleasure is mine, mademoiselle," he said in a ridiculous accent, waggling his eyebrows seductively.

The blond fairy shrieked with laughter. She tried to imagine some stuffy Solarian noble acting like a buffoon just to make her smile. What did she do to get him? No pressure, just passion – was this too good to last?

No. They had been through too much together. Maybe it wasn't forever (no one could promise that) but it was real; she knew it as certainly as she knew her own name.

She had to stop questioning every good thing that fell into her lap. 'This year,' she vowed, 'I'm going to learn to trust fate. This was meant to be.'

Musa felt the usual tension, coiled like a spring, winding tighter in Riven's eyes. She wondered if it was his mother. Did the New Year mark that fateful anniversary? Did it add another discrete increment of unbridgeable time to the chasm that separated Now from Then? Or did official new beginnings remind him of equally official, painful endings?

Wordlessly, she laced her slender fingers in his and squeezed, just to let him know she was there. Riven gazed for a long time at that perfect picture of their hands, the way she didn't even flinch when she brushed the back of her hand against his cheek. He stroked the back of her thumb and felt her gentle, reassuring pressure in response.

He took a deep breath. She wasn't going anywhere, and neither was he. 'This year, I'm going to trust her completely.' He sat back on the edge of the fountain, pulling the blue-haired fairy into his lap. She smiled faintly and rested her head against his chest.

Tecna turned tentatively to Timmy. "Happy New Year," he smiled, jabbing at his glasses as they started slipping down his nose.

Tecna rapidly scanned through all of the tips and advice she had filed away: articles from Fairy Teen, mental notes from Stella, late night television interviews...They all told her to play it "cool." She was self-conscious and unsure; it was best to let him make the first move, lest she say something stupid and want to kick herself later.

Oh, but what if Timmy was waiting for her? All she knew was that she wanted to kiss that boy, damn the consequences. 'This year,' she decided, 'I'm going to trust myself.'

"Timmy, there's a custom on New Year's Eve, did you know...?"

The fairy was cut off when Timmy cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lips. She sighed with relief. "I thought you might never bring it up," he blushed.

Flora was frozen, her arms around Helia's neck. She could smell the earth and parchment and ink in his shirt; she felt his warm arms encircling her waist. She swore his heart was beating against the base of her throat. She was afraid to even breathe, a risk breaking the perfect magic of the moment, like a glass figurine lost forever as shining splinters.

Helia wove his fingers deep in her long brown hair, releasing a breath of marigold and lavender. His heart hammered like cantering horse hooves, beating against his ribs like they were a well-worn forest path. Her very proximity in the past weeks had made him a stammering, weak-kneed fool. His pulse raced and his palms would sweat, and he was in danger on dropping whatever he held in his hands, for his fingers trembled frightfully.

But tonight he held Flora, and the remedy was obvious. He disentangled his arms from her waist, and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. 'This year,' he dropped to his knee, 'I'm going to marry this girl.'

The End.