So, hey guys! Here's my New Year's special! It's also a sort of sequel to Part Eight: The Next Day. A guest reviewer asked for one, and although I'm not to sure if this is what they wanted, I hope they enjoy it still!

Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favourites so far, and happy new year!

Enjoy, and maybe you could leave me a review at the bottom?

It's the last minutes until the new year...what will the team do to celebrate it, especially after all of their romantic get togethers?

Part 11: 5...4...3...2...1

(Happy New Year!)

Skye used to hate New Years.

The holiday was only nice for people who had someone to spend it with, and Skye had never really had that. Well, of course, there was Miles that one year, but he wanted to make a stand against the general stereotype of New Years. So Skye had been sadly disappointed. As per usual.

When she bad joined Coulson's team, they didn't really have enough time to celebrate New Years. This year, Coulson had sent her and Grant out on a mission, to pose as a couple on a romantic date, so that they could watch their target: the wife of some Senator dude. Skye had enjoyed it, mainly because her and Grant were now starting their unsteady relationship. She linked arms with him as they casually strolled some metres behind their target.

Grant smiles down at her.

"Hey." He says, nudging her gently. "I'm sorry we had to do this mission on New Years."

"It's okay, Grant." I smile back at him, leaning my head on his shoulder. It's soft yet firm under her head, like a pillow. "I don't mind."

"But you do." Grant persists, knowing how much the holiday means to Skye, his girlfriend. (Finally, he can actually call her his girlfriend!)

"You love holidays, don't you? Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years." Grant asks, raising an eyebrow slightly. "And this year, you were disappointed again."

"Not really." Skye says truthfully. Grant looks questioningly at her. "Because I'm spending it with you."

All around the city, clocks began to chime as it turned midnight. Grant, taking a risk depending that they were meant to be watching someone, leans down and kisses Skye, gently and quickly.

"Happy New Year, Skye." He murmurs quietly.

"Happy New Year, Grant." She replies. Skye smiles happily, a faint blush colouring her cheeks as they keep walking, their mission not yet over.

Jemma Simmons sits in the lab, the lights dim until it's almost dark, and sighs.

Coulson asked her to write up a report, but she just can't seem to find the words to write. Maybe it was because of the man working in front of her, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration as he tries to figure out how to use his bad hand. Leopold Fitz. Her best friend in the world.

Only things hadn't been the same between them recently. Not since...that morning.

She'd woken up in Fitz's room...naked. The night before had flooded back to her and she had gasped as she realised exactly what she had done.

She had slept with Leo.

The pair had agreed not to talk about it, to ignore it like it had never happened, but that was proving a little harder than she expected. Not for him: Fitz seemed to be fine ignoring it. But she couldn't put it out of her head. Often, she would find herself slipped off into daydream, dreaming about Fitz.

And that's when she had realised it.

She was so not over Fitz.

She loved him.

Only problem was, Fitz seemed to be fine with how they were acting now. And so Jemma kept her feelings bottled up inside, and tried to work them away.

But it was New Years Eve, with 10 seconds until midnight. Out of habit, her and Fitz, in unison, started to count the seconds down, just like they had done in the Academy.

"10...9...8...7..." They start to count. Jemma bites her lower lip. This was her chance! It was tradition, after all. To kiss at midnight.

"...6...5...4..." Come on, Jemma! You can do this.

"...3...2...1..." Jemma strides over to Fitz and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. Fitz blinks at her, surprised, and slowly brings a hand up to touch his lips.

"What the-" He starts. "Bloody hell, Jemma, are you really sticking to this whole New Year garbage? I didn't think that you would buy into-"

"I like you, Fitz." Jemma blurts out, interrupting him. "I really like like you."

"What?" Fitz whispers. "What are you saying, Jemma?"

"I'm saying..." Jemma blushes a bright red. "Maybe you'd want to get coffee sometime? Together? As more than friends?"

Fitz stares at her for a long moment, long enough that Jemma starts to doubt herself. Maybe this was all a mistake-

"Jemma Simmons, I thought you'd never ask." Fitz smiles broadly.

Lance Hunter wasn't one for soppy romantic gestures. Hell, his proposal to Bobbi had been a joke: they'd been in a tight spot, guns firing on them from either side, and he'd said something.

"Hey, Bob? If we ever get out of this alive, marry me."

He'd intended it as a joke, and Bobbi had taken it that way. But a few weeks later, both of them had thought about that sentence, and Bobbi had came back home later that day, and Hunter had gotten on one knee and proposed.

So when Coulson asked him to take Bobbi out to a restaurant, pay for a nice meal and do something romantic for her, he'd nearly choked on his own tongue.

"Why, sir?" Hunter had managed to get out. Coulson had shrugged.

"She looks tired. Maybe you could try to make her feel better."

But fate had other plans. Bobbi had come down with the flu, and he had wound up having to look after her. She slept, coughed, threw up, all in a continuous cycle. But Hunter, like the good boyfriend, had put a cold flannel on her head as she slept, held her upright when she coughed so she didn't choke, and pulled her hair out of her face when she threw up.

Hunter glances at the clock, seeing it's a few minutes until midnight.

The New Year. He muses, gently stroking Bobbi's hair as she lies against him, her head buried into his shoulder, her eyes shut as she sleeps. He gazes at this woman, who to him looks beautiful even if she's a ill, trembling wretch right now, and smiles slightly. As the clock ticks onto midnight, he leans down and kisses her forehead gently.

"Love you, Bob." He says softly. Bobbi moves slightly, wrapping her arms around him.

"Love you too, Lance." She murmurs sleepily before she snuggles into him, falling quickly into a deeper sleep.

Phil Coulson watches Melinda May as she laughs, chatting away to some stuffed suits. They're at one of these fancy government parties, trying to put S.H.I.E.L.D back in a good light. The organisation was slowly but surely regaining it's strength in the public opinion. Talbot had invited Coulson to this New Years party, and he of course had dragged Melinda along with him.

He walks over to her, and gently pulls her onto the dance floor. Her hands immediately go to his shoulders; his to her waist as they sway to the slow music that's playing.

"Your dress is pretty." Coulson offers. Melinda awards him with a bright smile, one that he loves to see on her face. One he hasn't seen in a while, not since...Bahrain.

"Thank you." She says. "And you look quite dashing in that suit of yours, too."

"Thanks." He smiles. "So, enjoying yourself?"

"Not really." Melinda admits. "My face hurts from smiling so much. Phil, I am not the sort of person you want here to help you rebuild S.H.I.E.L.D in their eyes."

"But you're the only one I want here." The words slip off his tongue before he can stop it. His eyes widen as Melinda's narrow.

"Phil..." She warns. "I thought we agreed to put that in the past. It was one night, no more."

"Melinda, I..." Coulson struggles for words as people around them start to count down to midnight. "I..."

"...3...2...1..." The people around them cheer.

"Love you." He blurts out before capturing her lips with his.

"Happy New Year!"

Thoughts?