Professor Layton isn't mine, but by damn, Happy New Year!


"In short, we're watching other people's money go up in flames, Mister Dove." Dimitri's sitting on the front step of his porch, watching as everything goes off in a burst of colour, in a bang.

"I don't give a fuck, I'm going to give their money in flames a run for it." Clive's meticulous in the way he lines up his fireworks, walking with a lighter and lighting a good row of them before jumping back to sit by the older, giddy, picking his glass of bubbly back up and filling Dimitri's back, making a point of sharing a toast and saying 'Happy New Year," In as many languages as they know.

Dimitri, on the other hand, makes a point of kissing the other and grinning at how he jumps at the sudden canon-bursts of fireworks before them.


"Flora, my dear, I don't think that's quite safe—" The professor fidgets and adjusts his hat, looking nervously at his adopted daughter, the girl currently in the process of rigging the fireworks they'd bought.

"Quite safe? I've constructed a village full of robots out of corpses, and this isn't safe? Professor, I know a thing or two about pyrotechnics." Flora snorts, putting the firework she'd been dissecting together again, striking a match and lighting the fuse, pushing a rather shaky Luke and the professor back. Luke loved fireworks, but they tended to scare him- at least not for the first few minutes of it.

But when Flora's hi-jacked firework goes off, they all look up at the colour and in awe, the boys are speechless and Flora grins wider than what they usually see her, and she hugs them tight, jumping, speaking her happy-new-year between squeals and giggles and utter joy.


They stand there, the three of them, glasses of champagne in hand, just sort of looking up at the colour, the explosions and the representation of celebration.

"Descole, Paul, do you think you'd be able to do better?" Remi grins over her glass, sipping and never taking her eyes off the sky. She still has a disdain for the scientist, but out of the three of them, they didn't have anyone to spend the New Year with.

The Frenchman snorts, and Paul- Don Paolo- scoffs. "Of course I would, Miss Altava, yet I can hardly say the same to this."

Don Paolo raised a brow, disapproving. "You're doubting me, hipster?" Both scientists start arguing about who's better, who can kick who's ass in pyrotechnics and Remi Altava simply sits back and makes her occasional snark- "Ladies, you're both pretty,"- to hush them for a bit, and as a group of acquaintances, they sit and drink their expensive champagne- courtesy of Descole- to watch the celebration of something new.


A/N: So, Happy New Year to all of you!

In my head, New Year's is also titled 'that time where I pretty much stand outside and nearly pee myself for the first five minutes because I'm an easily startled weenie when it comes to loud and sudden noises' or something like that.

How are you celebrating- any resolutions? I hope the new year is wonderful to all of you!

Personally, one of my resolutions is to post more to Fanfiction. That and become the perfectly androgynous gentleman but that's a personal goal-

By the by, Flora's comment out of constructing a village of robots from corpses- my idea is that she's brill with anything mechanical and that St. Mystere is made of cadavers or artificial skin-people, and Flora's to be main engineer after Bruno's done. Just kind of a badass that way- I don't get why nobody thinks she'd pick up a thing or two after living there for so long.

AND DESCOLE IS A HIPSTER. WHERE ELSE DO YOU THINK HE GOT THAT SHEEP ON HIS NECK I MEAN MUFFLER AND THEM SLEEVES AND THAT STUPID HAT.
"Oh. Just some shop in France. You wouldn't know it."
That, or he's just sassy gay Descolay as usual.