#gchqnye

closed starter for @autumnonheels

With the kids having fun at their own party, safe and in their favorite trio, it was damn easy for Eric to relax. Hell, he and Zach could go back in time when the drinks in the bloodstream took over, and karaoke started to sound like a great idea, which could actually be that if they only picked the right song. Who chooses nice over funny, though? Feeling like kids themselves, they took turns jokingly reminding each other not to embarrass their dates and friends.

Autumn was busy being the beautiful host and spent more time away from her date rather than with him, but whenever they bumped into each other, there were sparks; a quick peck, a brush of hands, a dance if they were lucky enough to fit it into their busy party schedules. He waited patiently for the right moment to steal her for longer, and fortunately, it didn't hurt so bad when his consolation prize was admiring her from afar. Despite so many sparkly looks flickering like colorful flames, Eric easily picked her out in the crowd, for she burned the brightest, and he couldn't ignore the moth metaphor that crossed his mind at some point.

Who cares? His wings had been scorched for years.

*

The dance floor slowed down a notch with the next song, a merciful jog between the sprints, but Eric still took Autumn's hand and started leading her out of the crowd. After a few songs, he wanted a moment with her. Just with her.

Hands resting on her hips, as soon as he turned to face her, Eric smiled against her lips between several playful kisses. It was no secluded corner, no more than a few feet away from where they were dancing a moment ago, but he zeroed in on her as if they were alone. Someone tried to pull Autumn back in as female giggles and pleas caught up to them, so Eric protested by making a discontented noise, a smile broke through every sound he made, though. "No... Don't go," he cooed.

He'd been nursing his most recent beer. He was....twelve deep? Fourteen. No, ten beers, three whiskeys, and a screwball. Oh! And some champagne. He couldn't forget about the champagne. There were a few other miscellaneous drinks he'd lost track of over the hours throughout the night, but it was New Year's Eve and Charles Payne was celebrating another year down. He wasn't worried about his sobriety on such a momentous evening.

And it had all been going swimmingly until his eyes caught sight of him. The asshole who'd called his chosen kin, garbage. His jaw clenched and he sucked the remnants of his last sip from his lips as he watched him flit around with some other fancy man through the crowd as he finished off his beer. Even drunk he knew it would be his last, so he might as well enjoy it while he could.

Has Ashton ever mentioned he's not a party person? He has? Well he'll say it again. Even every party with his hockey team he's often booed as the party pooper, social battery running out faster than an iPhone draining battery trying to trick you into getting a new one. Most of the time he'd politely decline big ones unless he's contractually obligated to be there for work, but he also makes special exceptions, like for his hockey mates, his friends, his home. Still, doesn't mean he won't leave as soon as the opportunity presents itself and he's been there long enough.

Ash spent most of the normal party mingling and catching up with the townsfolk, and hanging out with his friends, he heard of an after party and unless he was dragged there, he maybe rather not. Game day tomorrow and being sober makes the whole experience more obnoxious because he can't be drunkenly obnoxious with them. Still they always made sure to at least get some photos taken.

"Hey Aggie, was lookin' for you, the gang was looking to take some photos at the booth," Ash finds his old friend in the throngs of the crowd whole he was trying to wrangle everyone together, it was honestly like herding sheep, get one and another goes loose, but at least one photo for them all was mandatory, he reached out for her arm to link his and not lose her again, "more photos to add to the album book right? We got just enough time before the count down."

Emily took in the community center, momentarily stunned by how completely it had been transformed. Streamers, lights, and glittering decorations caught and reflected one another until the whole space seemed to glow. New Year’s Eve had always been her favorite mostly because her birthday followed the very next day. When she was little, she’d genuinely believed the entire world was throwing a party just for her. These days, she knew better, but she still loved pretending the celebration extended into a kind of shared, unofficial birthday extravaganza. This year, she’d committed fully to the theme: sparkle. Her skirt and bralette shimmered under the lights, softened slightly by the black blazer she’d thrown on for warmth and, admittedly, a touch of practicality. She’d lost Nathan somewhere in the crowd when he wandered off toward the dessert bar, leaving her to claim the drinks. While she waited at the counter, she let her gaze wander again, taking in the room with quiet appreciation. “It amazes me how they manage to transform this place every year,” she murmured, half to herself, half to the person next to her, still smiling as she watched the lights glint and flicker overhead.

Declan wasn't going to do karaoke. He said he wasn't going to. It didn't matter that he was in a band, and the choir, and another choir. There was something about getting up on stage in front of everyone to sing along to a popular song that made him feel shy and, no, it didn't have to make sense.

But Ruth insisted. And Vincent was looking at him like that. 

Fuck, was Under Pressure by Queen and David Bowie playing? Fine.

He relented and climbed on stage, a shy smile stretching across his face. The holiday lights glinted off the sea of glittery accessories in the crowd. Declan flipped the white feathery boa over his shoulder and adjusted the NYE crown on his head and took a deep breath.

It's the terror of knowing what this world is about. Watching some good friends screaming, "Let me out”

He was panting by the time he was finished. Cheers erupted from the crowd. Grinning from ear to ear, Declan jumped from the stage, his worn chucks scuffing against the hardwood. Sweat dripped from his temple. He was having a blast.

Scanning the crowd, he located Vince. His heart stuttered. Declan shuffled through the wave of bodies and finally made it out on the other side. “Hey,” he beamed at Vincent–his beautiful curly-haired, brown-eyed friend he was thoroughly obsessed with. He pressed a palm to the small of Vince’s back affectionately. “Still having fun?” Declan used the roar of the crowd as an excuse to lean in close to whisper in his ear

They were supposed to go to Carroll to surprise Eric and go back to New York, until that bottle of whiskey proved pretty persuasive – not to mention the gang of tiny rascals – and now they were staying a bit longer. A bit longer included the New Year's Eve party.

For someone who despised attention, Zach was damn good at doing the opposite and attracting it, but... Those sequin jeans were exactly the kind of outrageous he fancied, he liked The Wizard of Oz, so that t-shirt was going to be one of his favorites, and Rio had a lot of fun putting the glitter gel on her dad's blue strands, pulling them into the usual half-bun he sported.

*

"Sorry?"

He wished he hadn't zoned out like that. First impressions weren't his forte, even without those random idle moments, and now he was panicking inside, trying to guess what they said.

Was that something about the outfit looking familiar? Or bizarre? Or him looking familiar? Or bizarre?

As much as Jesse would hate to admit, he was having a decent time. Was even glad that Penny had made him come out, even if she'd pushed him to dress up. 'Dress up' was subjective. Autumn tried to throw some weird suit his way, like that would ever happen. But he took the shirt, his nicest pair of dark jeans, boots, and capped it with his favorite black stetson — this was the best they were going to get out of him, because he didn't own anything better and he sure as shit wasn't going to wander into town wearing a penguin suit over fireworks.

Besides; having to use the shirt made him feel crappy enough. Jesse didn't like feeling as if he needed other people's charity, as if his own greasy, dirt-ridden clothes weren't good enough. They were him, that's all that should ever matter. He liked a good pair of jeans, he liked those faded boots. He liked the hat.

Despite it being a cold night, Jesse's skin was flushed, sweaty. In the last hour, he'd had several shots, loosened up, and got up for karaoke with one of his favorite songs, James Dean by The Wrecks. Why was karaoke so damn fun? It might be surprising to learn, but damn did he have fun doing it. Made him feel cool, behind the mic, connecting with the music and pretending he was somebody else for a couple of minutes — he got lost enough not to care who was watching. Now, they had taken the party down the street and towards the park, with the rest of the crowd. Penny had run off somewhere, he figured she'd be back in a few minutes, wasn't too worried about it.

Jesse stood off from the crowd, red solo cup in hand. 'Fifteen seconds to midnight!' No idea who screamed that out, but it got everyone's attention, as verbal countdown to the new year suddenly began.

Thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten, nine..

Lifting the plastic cup to his lips, Jesse drank from it while his gaze swept the crowd. Passing over the faces of so many people he'd known however many years now, just blending together. Searching. Because he knew the damned painter was there, somewhere. Been feeling those pins and needles on the back of his neck all damn night, even before he'd caught casual glimpses of him, hanging around some finely-dressed (way better than Jesse ever would be, that's for sure) guy he knew was some foreigner that came around mostly in the summers, for as long as he could recall.

Nobody Jesse really interacted with, and now sure as hell never cared to. Fuck that guy.

Six, five, four...

Hazel eyes finally locked on a set of impossibly blue ones over the rim of that red solo cup. That telltale lick of frustration going through him, that he knew those blue too well now. Fucking figures the artist would show up in green. Looking like a damned snack, cleaned up nice and fine in a tailored suit and everything. But all Jesse saw was paint-covered clothes, messy hair, and intense blue eyes.

---------

"Oi, who was that and where can I get one?" With a wide grin, Fitzroy came upon Elio after just having witnessed something very interesting indeed. That look on his face said there were a lot more questions coming, so the painter better buckle up. "And you know what else? Where's my kiss?" Fitz put on an affected face, like he was hurt, being forgotten.

Nevermind the fact that he'd kissed at least three people himself already — a peck for Ingrid, someone else's cheek, and that one lady slapped a good one on him before he got away. Not that he minded, it was all in good fun.

But it was too good to pass up messing with Elio, to test if the artist actually could blush. He was always such a grump. Finally, Fitzroy had some leverage to play with, push the man outside his comfort zone even further. Getting him to come out tonight hadn't been an easy task as it was.

Fitz leaned in, lips pulled into a smug sort of twist. "You're welcome,, by the way," he whispered, both hands landing heavily on Elio's shoulders. "Because if you think for one second that I'm not taking credit for that miracle, you're mistaken, my friend." The Brit let out a laugh, looking the way the other man had walked off, like some fire was lit under his ass. "Maybe I'll go see if I can get one too? It looked delicious—" he mused, too innocently, his touch falling away from the artist as Fitzroy made a threatening step in that man's direction.