The air was crisp, tinged with the unmistakable scent of burnt out sparklers as the clock ticked ever-closer to midnight. The city of Edinburgh had outdone itself for Hogmanay. Thousands of revellers filled the streets, their laughter and cheers blending with the distant strains of music echoing from Princes Street Gardens. Above them, the imposing outline of Edinburgh Castle stood proud, bathed in a soft golden glow. 

Marcus Pike adjusted the scarf around his neck, a nervous habit as much as a shield against the biting cold. You stood beside him, soaking in all the excitement from the other people around you who’d climbed to the top of Salisbury Crags to get a better view of the fireworks, your breath misting in the air as you gazed across the city. 

“I always forget how beautiful it is up here,” you said, looking up at him. He didn’t respond immediately, but his eyes lingered on your profile, illuminated by the glow of torchlight around you from people who had been much more prepared than you two- you’d decided to climb up here impulsively an hour before the bells, encouraged by Marcus on a whim after you’d shared stories about watching the fireworks from there as a child. 

Your cheeks were flushed, whether from the climb in the cold or the whisky you’d shared earlier as you rushed up the hill, he wasn’t sure. 

Marcus managed a small smile, but any words he was about to say caught in his throat at the sight of you. Instead of speaking, he took a moment to let his gaze wander across the scene: the city sprawled below, its lights twinkling like scattered stars. The distant hum of celebration rose to meet the rocky outcrop of the hill. It was breathtaking, yes, but none of it compared to the way you looked right now- he was certain the moment would lose all of its magic if you weren’t in it. 

“Yeah,” he finally said, his voice low and soft, “It’s beautiful.” 

Below, the crowd began to cheer as the countdown to the New Year began, their voices rising in unison, the crowd around you joining in as the sound reached the top of the hill. 

Ten. Nine. Eight.

Slightly out of sync in the most endearing way. You laughed at the sound; a carefree laugh, full of unbridled joy. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. You joined in with the count, glancing up at Marcus, the flickering torchlight bathing your face in a gold glow, your eyes reflecting the distant shimmer of the city lights. 

Seven. Six. Five. 

Marcus reached out silently and took your gloved hand in his; any sound would be lost in the swell of the crowd’s excitement. You looked back at him, brows lifting in question. 

Four. Three. 

His free hand cupped your cheek and you leaned in instinctively, breath catching as his thumb brushed against your skin. 

Two. 

Your eyes darted between his, taken aback by the adoration in his gaze. He closed the gap between you, trying to steady himself against the nervous flutter in his chest. You smiled, your breath hitching as you closed the gap. He was so close you could feel his breath, the warmth chasing away the cold against your cheek. 

One. 

Your lips met his as the fireworks burst in to life above you. The sky exploded in a riot of gold, red and green, the light cascading the hilltop in a bright wash of colour, illuminating the crowd that had gathered there. They faded in to the background as you leaned in to the kiss. All that mattered was the warmth of Marcus’ mouth on yours, soft and searching. 

His hand on your cheek steadied you, the scratchiness of his glove a sharp contrast to the tenderness of his touch. The other slid to your waist, tentative at first, then firm as you leaned against him. You could taste the lingering traces of whisky on his lips, the peat and honey mingling with the faint hint of peppermint from the gum he’d obviously been chewing moments before. 

Marcus exhaled against your mouth, although you couldn’t hear it over the sound erupting around you, it felt like a reverent sigh, like he couldn’t quite believe he was kissing you. You felt the tension in his arms ease, the weight of long-standing hesitant longing dissolving in to the kiss. He wasn’t rushing- he kissed you like he had all the time in the world, like the moment could stretch forever if you let it. 

Your hands found their way to the lapels of his coat, clutching the fabric to anchor yourself. When you shifted slightly, deepening the kiss, you felt the faint hitch in his breath. A soft, unspoken plea for more. 

The fireworks above grew louder as the display reached its crescendo, their booming echoes providing the bass drum to the tenor beat of your heart thrumming in your ears. 

When you finally pulled apart, it was only because you needed air. Your foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the cold, both of you unsteady on your feet. Marcus’ eyes fluttered open, his dark brown eyes meeting yours as he pulled away to look at you properly. 

His gaze was soft, like you were the only other person in the world, the bustling crowd and fireworks forgotten. The torchlight around you flickered across his face, casting shadows over his strong jaw and highlighting the faint pink that dusted his cheeks. His lips were parted, flushed from the kiss. He looked at you like you were something precious, something fragile and irreplaceable, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire city had fallen silent, just for you two.

“Happy New Year!” You exclaimed, joy bubbling over as you kissed his cheek, looking up at him with a smile that was so wide your cheeks were starting to hurt. 

Marcus laughed, his hand still resting against your cheek. He showered your face with kisses until you squealed for him to stop, laughing as out-of-time choruses of Auld Lang Syne began around you. 

“Happy New Year,” he yelled over the singing, pulling you close.