Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing, except all the mistakes.
Author's Note: I got this holiday idea from a recent story posted about Christmas and mistletoe from the story "All I Want for Christmas" by alinaandalion. It's great. You should all go read it. Anyway, it sparked my own muse, and this is what came of it. As always, please review and tell me what you think. Thanks, and happy holidays!
A warm body presses against his, and before he realizes what's going on, a pair of lips greets his own, moving tentatively. Blue eyes slip closed and a hand tangles in the loose blonde hair out of instinct alone. He kisses back before she gets the chance to second-guess herself. He swore to himself long ago he would never be the reason for her self-doubt, but still he needs to know what it all means.
"Parker, whatcha doin', darlin'?"
"It's midnight." Her statement is matter-of-fact as if she is saying the sky is blue. No longer taken aback by her blunt nature, he waits. "It's New Years. You kiss someone when it turns to the New Year. You're a someone, and I kind of wanted to kiss you."
His trademark response rests on the tip of his tongue, and then he realizes she's right. It is tradition to kiss someone when the ball drops, signifying the start of a new year. "Darlin', why didn't you kiss Hardison?" He hates himself a little bit for reminding her of the hacker because, damn if he hasn't always wanted to be the one kissing her.
"Because I wanted to kiss you, not him," she asserts with a shrug of her shoulders. They stand in an off-set corner of the bar, everybody dancing and cheering around them, paying no attention to the hitter and thief. He stares at her, partially in shock, because he has wanted to hear these words for so long. "It's different with you. You tell me I'm crazy, but you let me be crazy." Her teeth worry her lower lip because as confident as she is, she wants the reassurance that she didn't screw up one of the only good relationships she has ever had. "Is that okay?"
He kisses her in lieu of a verbal answer. Fingers spread against her lower back, tugging her against his firm chest, while his palm cradles her face. Her arms wind tightly around his neck as she tries to get impossibly closer to him, pleased that the situation is working out like she had hoped. With two long, purposeful strides, he directs them further into the darkened corner until her back is flush against the wall.
Then something she said rings true and he stops, pulling back breathlessly. She said it was different, and the hitter desperately needs to know what that entails. His forehead rests against hers. He needs to know, needs to hear her define what she wants out of this, because he doubts he can do with her what he did with all the other nameless women.
She means more; she always has.
"What do you want out of this, darlin'?"
"You." His breath escapes him because she says the word he wants to hear. Still, it doesn't answer his question, so he clarifies and asks again if it's one night she is after or if it's a bit more. "I don't know. What does 'more' mean?" Confusion knots in her brow as her eyebrows furrow trying to decipher the implication behind his words.
It's a telltale sign that this is very possibly new territory for the blonde thief, and he knows that could complicate things. "C'mon." Her small hand slips into his larger, rougher one, and if he is surprised, however pleasantly, by the action, it doesn't show. "I'll explain it to ya."
The roof of the building is blessedly empty, though melodies from different parties in the neighborhood float through the cold, night air. A smile breaks when she skips ahead into the center of the roof, arms wide, to spin in fluid circles. Her laughter is the sound he cherishes most in that moment. Blonde locks flow freely as she turns; with her head tipped back, she laughs towards the sky. He leans against the wall, content to let her have her fun.
Out of breath, a smile still etched into her pale features, she tumbles dizzily over to where he rests. "So more?"
"I asked if you wanted one night or more, right?" After her nod, he continues, "One night being a one-night stand, sex with no strings attached. We're still us as we always have been; our relationship doesn't change. More, though, is a romantic relationship of sorts. It's a little different than we are now. That makes sense?"
"Which option do you want?"
He contemplates lying as he realizes how in love with her he is. It's not something he can quantify or even verbalize, but he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that it would kill him to watch her walk away the next morning if she wanted just one night. While he realizes that and all the pain he's opening his heart to, he can't bring himself to lie to her.
"I want you, Parker. I want to cook for you and dance with you, fall asleep with you in my arms and wake up next to you. I want to make you laugh and smile, and I damn well want to kiss you every chance I get." A hand scrubs roughly over his face, and fingers thread through his hair as he tries to find the next words to say. "I want you to be mine, but if that's not what you want, that's okay. We'll still be us; we'll still be part of our team. It's your choice."
"And if I want what you want? Or… if I think I want what you want… Well, I've never had what you want… Or…" She huffs out a breath, frustrated with her inability to form the proper words. "What you want sounds nice. I like that idea, but I don't know how to do it. I've never done it that way before. I want to try what you want, but I might really suck at it, just so you know. Is that okay?"
Again, he kisses her in lieu of an answer.
The brisk air blankets around them, making him shiver and reminding him how much he dislikes the cold, and choruses from different songs assault the usual silence of the night.
And for all of that, it's perfect, if only because she's in his arms.