robin buckley didn’t dislike being slammed into walls.

ok scratch that, she liked it when it was nancy wheeler doing the slamming. because that normally came with a kiss.

when it’s some random dickheaded kid from school, she likes it less. a lot less.

“hey faggot.”

“hey jack-hole. you know, i’m really starting to think you’re why condoms we’re invented.”

sharp pain to the shoulder blades, “that sounds like it’ll bruise, buckley.”

she did her best to smirk through the grimace, “it’s fine, i’ll get your mom to patch it up next time i go to rail her. say hi to your little brother for me!”

the kid’s grip lessened, “what?” then his expression changed, and before robin could see his arm swinging, one, two, three-there was blood pouring from her nose, her right eye felt like it was swelling and she could feel a split lip with her tounge.

he and his posse stalked away as robin sank to the floor with a groan.

the best part is that the dude didn’t even know she was gay. no one did-outside of the party + adults involved with party.

he was just a run-of-the-mill bully who liked to call kids faggots. go figure.

either way, the brunette was a little proud of herself, normally in those situations she’d fight back, and 9/10 times she hurt the dude worse than he hurt her, it’s probably why she’s been suspended. twice.

but sarcasm is easier when it comes to robin’s academics. not so much her physical and mental health.

she groaned again, pressing her palms to her eyes in an attempt to push back the tears threatening to spill, it didn’t work so robin hauled herself up and punched the locker.

“OW FUCK ME.”

biking with one or no hands was easy and didn’t even faze robin much, so as she dumped her bike in the wheelers front yard, adding to the pile, she swung her short hair in front of her eyes as best she could, a futile attempt but still an attempt to hide the forming bruise.

the door swung open without anyone touching it, and robin took that as a sign to go in, flopping herself down next to nancy and steve on the couch while the boys argued over a movie, max and el sat in a chair together whispering.

“afternoon nerds.”

a smattering of “hey rob.” “hi.” “afternoon.” came out of the kids, steve reached over to lay his arm over her shoulders, the other around jonathan, both who had their eyes on the boys.

nancy on the other hand, raised her eyebrow and gently brought a hand up tp robin’s face, who tried to redirect it, “nance don’t-”

“oh my god, robin!” her yell alerted everyone else, and steve instantly swung around, “jesus christ, rob-what happened to you-”

“n-nothing!” robin sputtered out, holding her palms up as nancy rushed to the bathroom, steve on her heals before robin held up her hand.

“well come on then!”

her girlfriend pointed at the sink, “sit.”

“nancy, really i’m-”

“robin buckley so help me god do not lie to me right now. you are not fine, and if you say so much as it it will be a bigger lie than mike saying he’s not in love with will. now, for fucks sake. express your goddamn emotions and don’t fucking hide them from me.”

she finishes putting tape on robin’s face and steps between her legs, gently running a hand over the taller girl’s lip, “i love you to much to keep watching you get hurt.”

nancy’s voice was so soft it was nearly a whisper, and it almost broke robin’s heart.

she really did try, she tried to fly under the radar, not get called out by assholes, but people had been pegging her as the weirdest girl in hawkins for years now.

robin knew that every time she showed up somewhere with a new bruise-nancy knew exactly how she’d gotten it.

face=school, arms/legs=biking or other mooter accident, torso=well. torso meant parents.

“i love you too, nance.”

nancy’s lips twitched for a second, “then stop getting yourself all beat up.”

“oh i thought looked hot like this.” robin quips back, earning a light glare from nancy, who sighs.

robin’s stomach twists, and she gently hooks her feet around nancy’s back, pulling her closer to her chest, wrapping her arms around nancy’s back and burying her face in her shoulder/neck.

“i don’t want to lose you just when i’ve got you for the first time you know.”

robin smiles into her girlfriends neck, “your not losing me anytime soon baby.”

“baby?”

“oh please, i’ve heard steve call you way worse.”

“mhm...i like it better from you.”

robin smiles again, “baby it is then.”

nancy’s reply is replaced with a gasp as the taller girl presses her lips to the shorter’s neck, over and over again.

nancy’s back hits the door, and robin feels butterflies so intense in her stomach that she thinks she might explode.

she can’t fathom why someone would ever need drugs when kissing feels like this.

maybe it’s because robin’s kissing nancy fucking wheeler.

and because nancy fucking wheeler kissed her first, right outside her parents bedroom, where her dad was sleeping.

the same dad who would not be ok with it if he found out that not one, but both of his kids swing both ways.

robin’s parents won’t be that happy either, but joyce is.

robin’s practically living with the byers/hoppers at this point-she’s claimed the guest room and when people come over steve takes the floor and nancy curls up next to robin and they talk all night with jonathan.

“i’m ok nancy. really.”

when nancy’s looking up at her with those blue eyes and steady grin saying “you better be.” robin is convinced she’d take another hundred hits to the face for this girl.

“i love you robin, i really really do.”

~~~

He had everything ready.

"Ahem."

Three heads turn to look at him.

"Logan, I really don't understand why you're doing this. You know I'm literally the Lord of the Lies, right? I can tell when you're lying."

"Falsehood. I am here specifically to prove to you three, the ones that have doubted me the most, what I think of Roman, so that you'll stop teasing me about emotions that aren't even there." Logan says, standing in front of a long classroom table. Virgil, Janus and Remus sit there, each maintaining their own postures and looking at him with disbelieving expressions.

"Logan, we can see your heart boner from here. You really think you can convince us with a slideshow presentation?" Remus picks his teeth, seemingly bored of the idea.

"That's exactly what I'm doing- What? Why would my heart have a boner? It doesn't have the proper parts to do that-" Logan looks lost, clutching the presentation button in his hand.

"It's an expression, Pocket Protector. It means you've got feelings for him." Virgil sighs.

Logan squints at him. "Of course I have feelings for him." Logan looks behind him, to the SmartBoard behind him. The board turns on, displaying the presentation title. "And those feelings are feelings of irritation. My name is Logan Sanders, and welcome to my Ted Talk."

There is a collective sigh from the others.

Logan takes a pointer stick (the one with the little hand on one side) from a holder on the wall, and points at the words on the screen. "This is 5 reasons why Roman is infuriating. And unlike your cognitive distortions may suggest, I DO NOT have a crush on him." He gestures with the stick where the same thing is written. "So, let's begin."

~~~

1. He likes to insist that he's the most handsome side, despite us all looking like Thomas.

It's ridiculous. All of their traits are reminiscent of Thomas's.

There are some mild changes they go through when they aren't summoned, but they are just slight shifts. For example, Janus and Remus both have different long hairstyles, and they all have a bit of a hair color change. Their features do shift too, emulating ones Thomas has seen over his lifetime that he'd associate with their personalities.

However, in person and in the mindscape, Roman really thinks 'he's the sh*t' (Virgil taught him that expression). He flaunts his beauty over everyone else's, strutting like the prettiest peacock in the flock. Sure, he's good looking, but the same level of good looking as all the other sides.

"You're all so handsome. But not as handsome as me." Logan recalls him saying in an episode.

He tries to use it to one-up the other's, even though they all know they look the same. He also enjoys flaunting his ego, attempting to emulate a lifestyle of the rich and famous when he feels like it.

It's rather ridiculous.

"You think he's good-looking?" Remus coos.

Logan glares, and changes the slide of the presentation.

2. He fights everyone all the time. (Except for Patton)

It seems that Roman has made the most rivals out of everyone.

He's rivals with his brother, he's got a rivalry with Janus but with more betrayal behind it, he's got his past rivalry with Virgil, even though now they're the closest friends, and despite making up several times, Logan is also his rival. Patton seems to be fine, despite their post-wedding event. Logan believes Roman is too worried of defending what he believes in against the literal embodiment of Thomas's morality.

"So, you two have tried making up, but have you considered... Making out???" Remus pitches, his smile all teeth.

Logan sputters a bit. "Puh- Wha- I don't think that would work."

Logan has in fact not thought of making out with Roman, thank you very much. Not even when they're so close, passionately arguing about who-knows-what in the spur of the moment, where it would be so easy to move just a little bit closer and connect his lips to the soft pink ones of the prince.

He has not thought about making out with Roman, because he does not have a crush on him. Period. End of story.

The two of them argue a lot. Whether it's how Thomas should spend his day, to the Chicken or the Egg dilemma (Logan knows he's right, by the way, Roman just won't see that the egg came first), to the ideal temperature for a heating pillow, to the best Crofter's flavor. They can range from productive, to stupid, and by the end of it they may just be fighting about nothing at all.

They jab at each other, come up with clever arguments, and although they're technically fighting, it sometimes feels more like a duel.

"Or a mating ritual." Virgil says under his breath.

"These points don't sound very negative." Janus adds, twirling some of his hair with his finger.

"It is negative. We fight a lot. He fights people a lot. Every issue seems to be a battle to him that he can outmatch, despite being better suited as a civil discussion." Logan stands taller, trying to defend his point.

"Well, that makes sense. I understand this point now. Go on." Janus waves his gloved hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Alright." Logan clicks his presenter button, and the slide changes.

3. He's loud. Super loud. All the time.

From singing to dancing to bantering, there never does seem to be a dull moment when Roman is around. Some may call it nice, but Logan would say that's a very polite description. It certainly isn't nice when Logan's trying to get work done, or watch a movie, or enjoy a peaceful breakfast, or most of the time really.

Logan has stopped working outside when he's trying to be productive because Roman will, without fail, come in singing, and then start a little fight with Logan that distracts him from his work and renders him unproductive for a long time because all he can think about is Roman.

"Hm... Wonder why that is." Janus interrupts, rolling his eyes.

"Well, you don't need to wonder. I said it was because of our fighting." Logan nervously adjusts his already immaculately placed glasses, resuming his point to his slide presentation.

It's odd, because sometimes even without leaving his room, he can still hear the sounds of Roman's voice in his head. He theorizes the absence of all that noise is making him subconsciously fill it in ( even though his mind also provides him with clear images of Roman's smile).

He can't escape the noise on movie nights. Roman will sing along to any song, scream at the most poorly-timed jumpscares, and no matter what, criticize the movie. Logan does participate in that last step from time to time.

During dinners, it depends. Sometimes, Roman will come in and do his thing, sometimes he'll make a dramatic entrance, grab a plate and then go off to work on something, and sometimes he won't show up at all, off on a quest in the imagination. Those particular meals are peaceful. Sometimes they feel empty, but so far, no one else has complained. Especially considering with Remus' and Janus' seats added to the table, dinner can be a wild event.

Sometimes, when Logan gets lonely, he'll bring his work outside. Every time, he can guarantee that Roman will be there eventually. He provides a healthy distraction, and he always feels much lighter after a bantering session.

But most of the time, he just can't stand it. How can one be so flamboyant for so many hours of the day? Logan had theorized it had something to do with overcompensation, his need for validation and attention, but then thought it was strange theorizing about his friends and went back to work.

Overall, not the worst trait, but it being applied to every scenario adds to the fact that he is infuriating.

"Hold on, can we circle back to the part where you said you thought of him smiling-" Virgil begins, only to be interrupted by Logan pointing his pointer at him.

"No, we will not. Next point."

4. He makes up stupid nicknames.

And he makes a lot of them. Even during serious talks, you'd think he had forgotten your name and was too scared to ask, so he supplies an abundance of back-ups to make you feel special. And they are quite varied, though all slightly jabbing. There are play-on-words, references thrown about... It would have impressed Logan, had all of his designated nicknames not revolved around him being a nerd.

"Hey Microsoft Turd."

"I need your help, Egghead."

"Listen here, Erlenmeyer Trash-"

"Calculator Watch."

"Oh Book Geeeerm~"

"Sure thing Specs."

Logan actually didn't mind specs, but his point still stands. All insulting, clever, but still stupid nicknames. Sometimes, he wonders if Roman keeps a book of them around. Somewhere in his room, filled with all the names he'll unleash onto his unsuspecting companions. Logan may have tried to come up with a list of his own in retaliation, but he couldn't think of anything Roman would think was clever. He spent almost a full night on it, hair a mess, glasses askew, head resting on his desk as he tried to come up with something at least remotely good enough. It interrupted his perfect circadian rhythm. Never again.

Except for the next night, where he tried the exact same stunt again, but that doesn't matter.

What does, is that all of those factors cause aggravation. He always feels weird when Roman gives him a nickname, varying from annoyance to a strange tingling.

"Are you saying he should stop?" Virgil interrupts, frustrated. "This point is going nowhere."

"I-" He's not sure. Although some of the insults are quite jabbing, Logan does want to support Roman's creative process. Not to mention, the nickname ‘specs’ oddly does hold a place in his heart.

"OoOoOoohhh, I have an idea!" Remus cackles. Although Logan is hesitant, he gestures to continue. "Okay, so pinky swear I won't try anything on you, but just close your eyes, and imagine how this nickname would make you feel if Roman said it."

Logan apprehensively closes his eyes, and Remus does nothing but lean slightly forward in his seat, and puts on his best Roman impression. Which is pretty good, considering they're twin brothers.

"How are you today, my love?"

Immediately, Logan flushes bright red from head to toe, covering his face in his hands and squirms. Remus's cackling intensifies by a tenfold, and the other two are poorly failing to contain their laughter.

"That's- That's- That's... N-not a nickname. Th-That's a p-pet name."

"Awww, but you're blushiiiing!" Remus squeals in amusement.

"Falsehood. N-no." Logan says, not enough bite in it to hold value. "We are going to move on now. That just... caught me off guard." He says, adjusting his tie several times, trying to compose himself. "The point is, his nicknames are stupid, and I don't like them- No, don't look at me like that Remus even that one- so it adds to his infuriating nature." Logan grabs the presentation button and clicks it aggressively to the next slide.

"And now, for my concluding point."

5. He is incredibly and willingly dumb.

Sometimes Logan thinks he wouldn't be surprised by the illogical things Roman would say. And then he gets proven incredibly wrong.

"Much like your... 'illogical feelings', mayhaps?" Janus drawls.

Shush, Logan is talking.

Granted, both Creativity twins have proven to be rather illogical, as they are embodiments of creativity, a force that knows only slight bounds to logic. Only with a defying mind can people push boundaries in the advancement of society. That doesn't mean however that those defying minds need to be intelligent.

"I believe Virgil specifically had called Roman a.." He takes out his special cards, flipping through them. " 'A Himbo'. Judging from his past and present behaviors and from the definition itself, it is safe to assume that yes, he is in fact a Himbo."

One instance he can remember is during a picnic in the imagination. It was Patton's birthday, and Roman wanted to do something special, so he set up a picnic for them all to attend. Logan doesn't enjoy visiting the imagination as much, as when he's there, things become more realistic and that makes him feel like a burden. Regardless, it was for Patton's birthday, and so he decided it would be polite to come along.

Everyone was guided by a trail of flowers to an opening in the forest, where a giant picnic blanket was laid out, pillows thrown around, and a large picnic basket stood in the center. There were many balloons of pastel pink and blue tied around, and the birds were chirping in a joint melody. It sounds almost like Happy Birthday.

Logan, as he approaches, hopes that his influence won't cause ants to emerge, because although that would be realistic, it would also be quite the nuisance.

He and the other's are just dressed in their usual attire, but as Roman emerges from the trees, he is wearing a shiny red party hat to go along with his prince outfit.

Roman immediately goes to serenading Patton and placing a party hat on top of his head, light blue with a little pompom on the top. He ushers him to sit on one of the largest pillows, and then goes around giving everyone else party hats. Logan stills when Roman gets to him last, a dark blue party hat with little stars in his hand.

"Do I have to wear that?" He asks. Although, sure, it does look nice, he doesn't want to seem ridiculous.

"Come on, you're in good company. Please? For Patton?" Roman bats his eyelashes at Logan, who sighs and lets him put the party hat onto his head.

Roman runs off to the birthday boy, and they all sit down. The time passes peacefully, songs being sung and Roman releasing a horde of puppies to the joy of the guests. By the time the food is out, everything seems to be going well, until they're all eating, and Roman pulls out an orange. As he's about to peel it, Logan speaks up.

"Roman, I would advise against that." Which may sound ridiculous to most people, but Logan is an expert on many logical things. ( Orange peels have a flammable liquid in them called limonene, and as both it and a balloon, made of latex, are non-polar, the liquid can dissolve the balloon, thus causing it to explode.)

"Against what?" Roman asks, but he does stop his attempt.

Logan adjusts his glasses, ready to explain. "Eating an orange near a balloon. As I cause the imagination to become more logical, doing so will most likely cause-"

"Oh puh-lease! I'm sure whatever wacky science things you're going to say don't actually work here! I mean, there is plenty of influence to go arou-" Roman, the spiteful side he is, gets even closer to the balloon, starting to peel it. Lo-and-behold, he can't finish his denying before the balloon right beside him explodes with a loud POP. The sound sends him jumping back in fear, screeching to the nine hells, and then falling backwards onto another balloon, scaring him again. Several sides laughed out loud at his pain, while Patton watched him, worried. Logan smiled internally at the karma, before getting up and making sure he was okay.

Roman did spend the rest of the party in a sulky mood, but the party was still a huge success. They had some good food, and while Logan made Patton a flower crown, he fed him forfulls of cake. It was a nice bonding moment. When everyone separated to return to the mindscape, Roman waved them all off from the imagination door. Logan turns back to look at him, but Roman makes no move to follow them all out.

"You're not coming back yet?" Logan asks, adjusting his glasses.

Roman sighs. "No, not yet. I'm afraid this dashing prince has a little bit of cleaning to do. And perhaps an adventure. You never know." He leans on the doorframe, smiling.

"Well, that is correct. I in fact do not know what you'll be doing." Logan nods to himself. "Do you need any help cleaning? I doubt I'll be much help with the adventure, but I do have hands." He gestures to his hands.

Roman looks quite surprised. "Oh, thanks for the offer, specs. I think I've got it all covered though."

Logan offers a hesitant smile. "Alright then. Let me know if that changes."

Roman quickly smiles back, a faint pink dusting his cheeks, and turns back into the imagination and shutting the door. Logan stands there for a moment, but not sure why. It's clear that Roman was not feeling all that great from the balloon moment. Even Logan, terrible at deciphering emotions, can tell that much. Perhaps he needs to let off some steam.

He just can't understand Roman most of the time. They do have so many similarities, being too proud for their own good, but it's almost like they're in two separate worlds. Logan, the learner he is, wishes he could explore Roman's own. Understand it. Understand him, and his way of thinking. Even though Roman is mostly dumb, he does make good points, and Logan tries to prioritize his input, as it's usually what Thomas is hoping and dreaming for as well.

~~~

The last slide shines back at them all. A concluding statement that makes the three watching sides snicker a little bit.

"And I believe he just doesn't understand how much we all think he's great. I swear, he's just so dense! It's so aggravating! How can he not tell that he's worth everything? Why doesn't he understand that we all care for him? That I care for him? He's wonderful, for god's sake! And that I don't mean to hurt him with my critiques. I want him to thrive! I-"

Everything stops. Logan takes a moment of silence. The three sides look at him, each with different degrees of anticipation. One looks pretty much ready to pounce out of his seat.

"...Oh."

And all at once, everything gets strung back into motion. Confetti literally falls from the ceiling as Remus jumps for joy, circling a very mortified looking Logan. Janus, the tired soul, rolls his eyes and lets out a slow, long clap. Virgil just rests his head in his arms.

"I can't believe this. You sit us all down for a presentation you probably double-checked and proofread, like a nerd, and only NOW you realize you were wrong all along? Why didn't you say anything, snake-face?" Virgil complains, sitting up just to glare at him.

"Wo-ow, it isn't as if I was saying that this whole time? No, it couldn't be." Janus deadpans, sarcasm spilling from his mouth like an old, worn, broken dam.

Logan doesn't move from his stand-still spot beside the projector, but Remus manages to bounce in circles around him, cooing. "Lo-lo's got a cruuuush! A crushy crush! A crushed crust of a crush! A crevice cracking ‘cause of the crushed crust-" He was going to continue, throwing expired banana peels around to substitute rose petals, until the sound of the door opening catches everyone's attention.

"Hey losers, Patton wanted to know if you-" Lo and behold, Roman walks in, regal as ever, smiling until he takes in the sight before him. The boring classroom look, contrasted by the amount of confetti that stopped falling as soon as he walked in. Janus and Virgil, wide-eyed and looking at him, completely still. Remus, caught mid dance, frozen in place with a smile. Logan, looking at him in the way one may look milliseconds after being caught stealing government secrets. Roman's eyes flicker to each of them, before settling on the projector.

"Roman. I-I can explain-" Logan starts, but Roman is already reading the words on the screen.

"... 'In short, he saddles me with unnecessary... feelings'? 'Unease, and uncertainty'? Who... Oh my god! Logan!" Roman looks at him, smiling in disbelief and amazement. "I know what this meanssss!" Filled with giddy delight, he sidesteps the table.

Logan gulps as Roman approaches, turning beet red as Roman takes his hands in his two own. "Y-Yes?" He practically squeaks as Roman looks him right in the eyes.

"Yes! Ohhh, this is so exciting!" The three bystanders watch, once again in anticipation, as Roman swings their interlocked hands.

"Yes?" Logan offers a small, tentative smile.

"You have a crush on someoooone! Oh Logan, you should've told me!" Roman smiles, completely oblivious to the internal facepalm of several present members.

"I-I'm sorry..." Logan looks down, slightly disappointed but still too flustered to say anything.

"God save the dense." Janus mutters, inspecting his gloves fingers.

"Don't be sorry! Come, we must make plans! I shall be your matchmaker! This is going to be perfeeeect!" Roman, sings, dancing out of the room and dragging Logan along by their still intertwined hands. The other sides watch them go.

After a moment of processing, Virgil sighs. "Well, I thought that was going to be resolved. Turns out they're both as dense as... dense people." He can't seem to think of any other similes.

"Welp, I'm just happy that they're one step closer to getting. it. on. romantically." Remus punctuates every word with some rather immature hand gestures. “And that they stop dancing around each other.”

"Who do you think Roman thinks Logan has a crush on?" Virgil asks, cogs turning in his brain.

Janus lounges backwards. "Well, let's see... Soooo many options. Either he thinks it's someone outside of Thomas's head, or the simple answer..."

Remus and Virgil both look at him, both with looks of realization.

"Patton."

“I got out of it. What are you doing?”

Peter clicked his tongue as if he was thinking. “Well, I was about to flip the TV channel over to the countdown thing, and I’ve got a bottle of that shitty, non alcoholic grape juice shit I’m gonna open up here in a few minutes. Why do you ask?”

“You’re not doing anything special?”

“Well no? May is out with Happy and I honestly didn’t feel like dealing with the crowds. I did consider dressing up though, just to be dramatic.”

“You should. Why celebrate anything unless you’re having fun?”

It was a fair point. Peter got up and stretched before heading into his bedroom and putting Harley on speaker so he could rifle through his closet. “So why aren’t you at Mr. Stark’s party?” he asked. 

“I lived through one of those last year and I’d rather not do it again. It was fun, but too many people want me to be something that I’m not, and I don’t want to make small talk with people who don’t know me.”

He hummed as he buttoned up his shirt. “Which tie should I wear?”

“Wear the maroon one. Compliments everything about you.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, darling.” He tied a simple Windsor knot with ease before looking around for a jacket. “Jacket?”

“None.”

“Interesting choice. None it is.” Peter made his way back into the living room, picking up the remote and changing the channel on the TV. 

There was still a solid 15 minutes before the ball dropped, so he walked into the kitchen and tried to find a champagne flute, listening to Harley complain about shitty bureaucrats all the while. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice to just have a normal News Years for once?” Harley asked.

“Normal like ‘get drunk with people our own age and make out with the person closest when the clock strikes midnight’ or like ‘in Times Square surrounded by asshole tourists?’”

“Wow, I always forget how different New York is. Our normal was watching either celebrating at a bar or bowling alley, or if you were younger, you’d have a movie night and watch the ball drop before passing out.”

“Sounds fun,” Peter laughed. “Definitely different.” He cursed quietly. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just can’t find the champagne flutes.”

The doorbell rang. 

“The hell?”

“Was that the doorbell? You should probably get that.” He sounded like he was smiling. 

Peter rolled his eyes and went to the door. Sure enough, he opened it to Harley standing there, leaned against the doorframe, phone pressed against his ear, a bottle and champagne flutes in his hand. 

“So? Anyone important?” he said, still speaking into the phone. His smirk was so annoying.

“Ass. Get in here, moron.”

He grabbed his wrist and pulled him over the threshold. 

“I brought champagne flutes. And champagne.” Harley set both down on the kitchen counter. 

“We can’t have champagne. Underage drinking is illegal, remember?”

“Never said there was alcohol in it. Bruce helped me develop it. Tastes exactly the same with none of the shit that makes you tipsy.” 

Harley hung his coat by the door, and Peter noticed he was also wearing a suit. “You had this all planned out, huh?”

“Mostly. You not being about to find the glasses was just a lucky coincidence. Watch yourself.” He popped the cork off the bottle and poured a glass for both of them. “C’mon. I wanna watch the ball drop.”

Peter took one of the champagne flutes from his hand and leaned against the couch, watching Harley as he took the armchair. He took a tentative sip of the champagne.

The taste was… interesting. He coughed. “I don’t know why, but I was expecting it to taste more like soda. Ginger Ale maybe.”

Harley laughed and took a sip of his own. “It’s good. Sweet.”

He nodded, still unsure of how to describe it. Silence was fine too, he decided. 

The TV droned on between them. Some celebrity that would be obsolete next year was talking about New Year's Resolutions. 

“Do you have any?”

“Have any what?” Peter glanced in Harley’s direction and caught his breath at the sight of his suit rumpled, tie slightly loosened. 

He gestured to the TV screen. “Resolutions. Things you want to do better this year.”

Peter thought about it for a moment before responding. “Honestly? I don’t think so. Just to keep up with everything that made this year great and I’ll play it by ear. You?”

“Maybe start making an effort to adjust to the New York version of normal.”

“What, like the New Year’s shit I was talking about?”

“I mean I wouldn’t be opposed to the things you were talking about. A New Year’s kiss sounds great, but other stuff too. Tennessee was more, I don’t know. People were nosy, everyone knew everything about everybody else. Everyone here tries to mind their business and ignore the people around them. It’s strange, but I think if I put a little more effort into actually leaving the past in the past, it’ll get easier.”

Peter took another sip of the champagne, hoping Harley couldn’t hear the blood roaring in his ears. He didn’t know what to make of the comment about New Year’s. Honestly, it was probably nothing.

Neither one of them said anything for what felt like forever. More celebrities whose names he’d forgotten made appearances, talking about best moments of the year. 

Two minutes to midnight, Harley spoke up again. 

“You’re quiet tonight. Everything okay?”

“I’m fine. Just thinking,” Peter answered honestly.

“What about?”

“New Year’s.”

Harley’s eyebrow twitched up. “Why? You want me to kiss you at midnight?”

“You offering?”

Both of them froze. Peter had no idea what compelled him to say that, but fuck it. He couldn’t take it back now.

Harley didn’t say anything. Instead he got up and went to refill his glass, offering up the bottle to Peter, who took it graciously and did the same. He passed it back to Harley who replaced the cork and put the bottle away. He moved to sit back down, but hesitated at the last second.

“Come here.” He motioned for Peter to follow him and pulled him into his lap as he sat back down. “This okay?”

Peter didn’t trust himself enough to speak, but he managed to nod. 

“Okay.”

There was 30 seconds left on the clock. Peter had to make a conscious effort to breathe. 

Time seemed to pass slowly, dragging the seconds into hours. 

Harley started counting down. 

“Ten,” he whispered against his neck, making Peter shudder. 

“Nine, eight, seven, six-” 

Was Peter counting too? He wasn’t sure if he was actually speaking aloud. 

“Five, four, three, two-”

At the very least he was mouthing the words, the last semblance of control he had finally breaking through. 

“One.”

Harley clinked their glasses together. 

“Happy New Year.”

He made eye contact with him over the rim of his glass, letting the sweetness of the champagne calm his nerves. 

Peter lowered his glass slowly, still holding his gaze. Harley took it from him, setting it on the end table before winding his arms around Peter’s waist. 

Before he could second guess himself, Peter brought his arms up and around Harley’s neck. He was beautiful like this, eyes shining in the low light, mouth ever so slightly open, just… looking at him.

The kiss was sweet, reminiscent of the champagne they’d had.