A/N: Oh boy… here's a challenge for me. I'm going to write a little short story every day for a year, and I'm going to base the chapters I write on the word of the day. Well, here goes nothing!
Disclaimer: I own none of the following content.
Words as Feelings
January 1st, Handsel
A gift or token for good luck or as an expression of good wishes, as at the beginning of the new year or when entering upon a new situation or enterprise.
"Happy New Year!"
Smuggled party poppers went off (if anyone asked Niner where she had gotten them, she would deny ever seeing them), cheers rang out, and Maine started chugging a whole bottle of champagne just because he could. South, of course, gave North their traditional New Year's shoulder punch, while Florida, being the lightweight he was, had already passed out on the sofa and was sleeping on Wyoming's leg.
York, of course, wasn't paying attention to any of that; his eyes were focused on his red-haired teammate. Carolina was actually smiling for once, which just made her whole face light up like last month's tree. He'd heard it was tradition to kiss your partner when the clock struck 12 on New Year's, and while he would have loved to do it and see if he could make her smile even more, he hadn't worked up the nerve to, seeing as they weren't even dating. Just seeing her so happy was enough for him.
She got up and stretched, the champagne leaving her cheeks slightly flushed from the effort. York sighed as he saw her turn and head for the door. Typical workaholic Carolina; even though the Director was nice enough to let them have a day off, she was probably going to spend it training again. This of course meant that she'd be leaving early to give herself more time. Probably take a short nap to sleep off the alcohol first…
His thoughts were interrupted as she pressed a quick kiss to his lips as she passed by. "I heard it's supposed to be lucky," she said. "Here's to surviving another year."
"Uh… yeah," he mumbled, still wondering if this was a drunken hallucination as she turned and continued on her way.
"Smooth move, Casanova!" Wash crowed from where he and Connie were perched on Maine's shoulders. He was obviously more than a little drunk. York didn't bother answering him; he'd forget it in the morning when he'd sobered up anyways. His fingers ghosted against his lips and he smiled. Really, what better New Year's present could there be than that?