and days o' auld lang syne
by greensilver
--
"The Blackhawks are going to take it all the way this year," Daniel said, his voice a whisper just barely audible over the sounds coming from the television. A couple thousand people were going collectively insane in Times Square, and some crappy band with half-naked background dancers was apparently hell-bent on getting the crowd pumped up for 2006. Jack was pretty sure that if the crowd got any more pumped up for 2006, Times Square would spontaneously combust under the force of all that meaningless excitement, but the band played on, oblivious to the oncoming disaster.
Jack ran a thumb over the tiny wrinkles on Daniel's forehead, wondering if he'd heard correctly. For all Daniel's determination to make it to midnight, he'd been doomed from the moment he'd slid down the couch to rest his head on Jack's lap; maybe he'd drifted off, and was talking in his sleep.
"The Blackhawks?" Jack turned down the noise in Times Square, letting the subtitles work their magic. Have you ever seen such a large crowd, Bob? ... Not since 2000, Dave. For more on the size of tonight's crowd, we go to our man on the street, Ed. Ed, have you ever seen a crowd this size? .... [screaming] ... [screaming] ... Not really, Bob, no. ... Thanks, Ed. Back to you, Dave.
Daniel peered up at him, his mouth turning up into a sleepy, lopsided smile. "Blackhawks in '06."
Jack smirked. "Daniel, even I don't really think it'll be the Blackhawks in '06."
"Mmm." Daniel's eyelids lowered and snapped open again, giving him the general look of a five-year-old resisting the onset of sleep. "I know what that's called."
"Oh?" Jack slid his hand down into Daniel's hair, absently ruffling the already messy locks. It hadn't been all that long ago that Daniel's hair had been a bright blond, surely; now his hair was nearly brown, and if Jack squinted, he could almost picture what Daniel would look like with a sprinkling of gray. "What am I called?"
Daniel reached up to drum out each syllable on Jack's thigh. "A fair-weather fan."
"Daniel, the Blackhawks haven't won since 1961," Jack said, shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure that was before you were born-"
"So they're having a dry spell," Daniel interrupted, his hand flattening out over Jack's thigh. "I'm sure there are good reasons why-"
"So am I-"
"Not the least of which is their name, but I won't go into that right now-"
"Daniel-"
"But 2006 is going to be their year," Daniel concluded, his voice finally raising above a sleepy whisper. "I can see it now: Blackhawks win the pennant."
Jack eyed Daniel suspiciously, not quite sure whether or not Daniel was joking.
Daniel smiled back, all innocence.
Jack took a long drink from his too-warm bottle of beer, leaned his head back against the couch, and sighed. "Baseball teams win pennants, Daniel."
"I know," Daniel said, poking Jack square between the ribs. "I'm kidding."
"I figured you were," Jack said, fending him off with the beer bottle.
"But this will be a good year for Chicago baseball, too." Daniel was warming to his topic, sounding all too eager to show off his knowledge. "Another big one for the White Sox, am I right?"
"No." Jack squinted down at Daniel, just barely resisting the temptation to use Daniel's forehead as a coaster. "We don't root for the White Sox."
Daniel frowned. "We don't?"
"No, Daniel," Jack said, tirelessly patient. "We root for the Cubs."
"Those are from Chicago, too?" Daniel said, beginning to sound faintly confused.
Jack stretched his hand back up to smooth out the wrinkles on Daniel's forehead again. Daniel pulled off his glasses, and Jack slid his thumb down to squash the deep line etched between Daniel's eyebrows.
"You can go back to sleep, if you want," Jack said, tracing a slow, wandering path down the side of Daniel's face, toward the uneven curve of his mouth. "I'll wake you up before midnight."
Daniel jerked his head toward the television. "The subtitles are already counting down, Jack."
Jack looked up, surprised. The band was gone, and Times Square was going completely insane as the world's largest Christmas tree ornament descended from on high.
Have you ever seen such a large ball, Dave? I think the folks at Waterford Crystal have outdone themselves this year. ... I don't know, Bob. What do you think, Ed? ... Well, Dave, I think it's the same ball they use every year. ... How 'bout that, Bob? ... It sure looks bigger to me, Dave. Back to you, Ed.
He turned the volume back up, just enough to get a dim roar in his living room as the crowd counted down toward the new year.
"Thirty seconds left in the year," Daniel said, his voice dropping again to just above the noise level. "Was it a good one?"
Jack flicked his thumb across Daniel's lower lip. "I've had worse."
Daniel's mouth moved against Jack's thumb in what might have been a quick, light kiss, and then he sat up, settling an arm across the back of the couch. "Twenty seconds."
Jack elbowed him a little. "What about you? Good year?"
"Unexpectedly good," Daniel said, his smile faintly teasing. "Learned a new language, made some new friends-" His expression changed, turning more serious. "But you know, this year, with you in D.C., it's been-"
"Ten seconds," Jack interrupted, setting his beer aside. "Whatever it's been, it's almost over."
Daniel didn't argue; he just smiled, and leaned in. "Five - four-"
"Three," Jack said, and kissed Daniel, letting the crowd finish the countdown for them.
When he pulled back, confetti was blanketing the mass insanity in Times Square, and the idiot announcers were delivering an off-key rendition of Auld Lang Syne.
If Jack knew of any better ways to ring in the new year, he couldn't think of them off-hand.
"Happy New Year, Jack," Daniel said, and shifted down onto the couch, pulling Jack with him.
Jack sprawled across Daniel's chest, trying not to crush him. He made a quick, silent note-to-self to invest in a bigger couch before Daniel came to visit again; at this rate, the size of his bed was never going to become an issue. "Lest all acquaintance be forgot, etcetera."
"Auld acquaintance." Daniel looked half-naked without his glasses on - always had; that'd made for some pretty useless mission briefings over the years, not that Daniel had ever caught on. "Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind-"
"I can't believe you know the words," Jack mumbled, leaning down for another kiss.
Daniel stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne. It's written in Scots."
Jack eyed Daniel. "I don't need a linguistics lesson on New Year's-"
Daniel smiled. "I'm just trying to explain-"
"Yeah, yeah," Jack said, batting Daniel's hand away from his chest. "I already know you're the smart one. Blackhawks in '06."
"All the way," Daniel agreed, and Jack just managed to mute the television before Daniel pulled him down for another kiss.
How do you think they get all that confetti up there, Dave? ... I don't know, Bob. Maybe they air-lifted it by helicopter. What do you think, Ed? ... Ed? ... I'm getting a note from our producers that the confetti took out our camera on street. Good luck down there, Ed! Back to you, Dave.
--
Author's Note: Written for Ozreison at New Year's. ;)
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