**This is more short story than drabble, but it's just a little holiday fluff so putting it here. Did you know which day of the year it was that the Oceanic 6 climbed aboard Penny's boat?**
"We have to talk," Jack told Penny the minute they climbed on board The Searcher and even though it was the middle of the night and they were all exhausted, that's exactly what they did.
They talked until long after the sun was up, and Penny's face had fallen a dozen times as she heard the horrible things they'd been through. Her eyes shot to Desmond's again and again, asking silently if it were all true and all he could do was kiss the top of her head, or pull her in and whisper in her ear, 'it's okay, we're all right. We're all right now."
There were some moments of peace, too. They slept in shifts until Penny's crew could arrange accommodations for eight unexpected visitors, then they all napped. When they woke up at sunset there was food set out – just simple sandwiches and pitchers of cold water and bottles of beer, but she had to fight back tears at the wave of relief that had washed over them when they saw it, how all conversation ceased and they'd dug into it like it was a holiday feast.
"He's kind of a bitter pill, isn't he?" she'd whispered to Desmond, nodding all the way to the other end of the table where Jack had downed some food fast and was looking on edge again - like any minute he'd suggest getting back to work on their story.
"He means well. Just a worrier," Desmond had shrugged, smiling, "And after the last three months, I can't say as I blame him. There's plenty to worry about."
"Right enough," Penny got up, squeezing his shoulder. "But not tonight."
She'd disappeared downstairs and when she came back her crew was hauling a couple of more cases of beer with them. That got a resounding cheer from Frank and Sayid and Hurley, a laugh from Kate and even a smile from Sun.
"You could use one of these. Or maybe three," Penny sat next to Jack when he started to refuse the beer she'd handed him. "Not going to make me drink alone, are you?"
"Thanks," he said, but it sounded forced. "It's just… these people, they're not messing around. We have to figure this out, have to be ready – what if…"
"You're safe here," Penny said and she saw him crumple a little at the word she knew they all needed to hear, his eyes shooting to the floor. "You're all safe. And we'll figure it out. But who knows? Maybe it'll go even better if we give them tonight to unwind- to not think about it."
"Maybe you're right," he sat back, nodding, and Penny smiled as the little thundercloud that had been hanging over his head evaporated. "You know what, maybe you're right."
The only talking after that consisted of light chatter: Frank telling his piloting stories, Hurley telling jokes, everyone sharing what they were looking most forward to at home. Their voices, their laughter seemed to fill the ship and echo off the water, and for a few hours it kept the big, dark open sea and all their fears at bay.
A few hours later Penny noticed Desmond had slipped away. She went in search of him, found him in the shower in her room, the small quarters very foggy from the hot water.
"What in the world are you doing in there," she called in, then shut the door with a laugh when he reached a hand out through the shower curtain and 'tutted' at her mock-sharply.
"Get out," he called. "It's a surprise. Don't ruin it..."
"Sorry," she walked around her room, killing time as she heard the water stop. "Des, why do you have a bottle of champagne here? After all that upstairs, I'm not sure I really need.…."
Penny stopped in mid-thought, gasping at the sight of Desmond emerging in pajama bottoms, whiskers gone, running a towel over his head.
"You look like you!" She reached up to ruffle his freshly cut, short hair, to kiss his naked cheek. "Don't get me wrong, I love you however I find you, but oh… you look like you now."
"Thought you'd like it," Desmond tossed the towel over one shoulder and reached for the bottle of champagne. "As for this, I really think we really must- even if it's just a sip…"
"It's New Year's Eve!" Penny exclaimed, as it finally hit her.
"Exactly. And more to the point, it's 11:58pm on New Year's eve," Desmond sat on the edge of their bed and started peeling the foil off, patted the spot next to him for her to sit. "Oh, correction. Now it's 11:59pm. You have excellent timing, my dear."
"Any resolutions this year?" she asked as he tossed away the foil and pointed the bottle away, thumb poised to pop it open.
"Just the one I gave you when you found us last night: To never leave you again."
"I'm holding you to that," she said. "You don't have to wait 'til midnight to open it, you know."
"Just a superstition of mine," he said, eyes on his watch. "Thirty seconds… twenty…"
"Do you think they're realized it upstairs? I wonder if they know…" A suspenseful little buzz of laughter made its way down the stairs. "Yeah, I think they do."
"Ten… nine." They heard the countdown start from the deck above and Penny laughed but Desmond shivered, frowning.
"How can you be cold?" She asked, running a hand on his arm. It's a hundred degrees in here.."
"Not cold, just… them counting down made me think of…. I'll explain later," he shrugged, jostling the cork as she braced for the 'pop'.
"Five… four…. three… two… one…"
The cork flew and the champagne flowed and they passed the bottle back and forth a couple of times in contented silence, listening to their friends whoop and cheer, eyes glued on each other.
"Happy New Year," Desmond whispered as Penny took the bottle and set it on the nightstand and put her head on his shoulder and pulled him in tight.
"Happy New Year, love."
