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Entry tags:
Fic - SignetEcho - Good morning Kiss
i don't know. i don't know!!! i have no excuses!!!!!!! i'm going to bed!!!
i guess it's set in some vague sort of modern!au where signet has a super nice big apartment as this thing
It’s nearly midnight, but that doesn’t stop the raucous shouting from the other neighbors. The fireworks haven’t started, though a few stray ones went off earlier in the evening.
Echo kicks out their legs and hugs their sweater closer around their frame.
At their side, Signet tries to stifle a yawn, though when they cast her a glance, she’s still smiling fondly and just as nestled into her sweater as they are.
She must notice them staring, because she turns to face them, leaning over to bump their shoulders together. “I wonder if that apartment is in a different time zone,” she jokes, nodding her head in the direction of her neighbors that are having a large and noisy party in their living room. “It’s already the new year for them.”
Echo snorts and shifts so they can tuck their arm through hers. “You would think they’ve never seen the night sky before.”
“Don’t be sour.”
“They’re just being loud.”
Signet laughs and kisses their cheek. “We have the better view of the fireworks.”
Echo has to force themself to look away from her eyes and study the expanse of rooftops. The lights of the city are still fairly bright, so the stars are hard to see, but they don’t mind so much when perched on Signet’s roof.
She hums to herself as she pours another glass of champagne.
They take the glass offered to them, studying the bubbles in the pale wash of light. There are a few candles scattered around for ambiance, and if Echo ignores the sound and light from the neighbors, it actually makes for a perfect setting.
Their mind wanders in the direction of the new year--of summer nights on the roof, sleeping under the summer stars, Signet’s long legs, bare—
The list goes on.
Signet’s fingers on their wrist draw them out of their thoughts, and they jump at the touch. Her laughter is soft beneath a chorus of voices, and they realize that the countdown has started when they were zoned out.
She lifts her glass as the count hits ten, and Echo joins in--unable to help the grin that takes over, caught up in the infectious energy, even if they might have grumbled about it before.
The clock hits zero, the year rolls over, and the fireworks wash them in splashes of red and green and white and blue and Signet leans in to kiss them.
Their head is light and fuzzy and their chest feels like it’s filled with champagne bubbles and her kiss makes them feel delightfully dizzy.
“Happy new year,” she says simply when she finally pulls back.
Echo isn’t even thinking as they lift their glass to her. “Good morning.”
Signet stops--her own glass poised at her lips. “What?”
Their ears go red, not that it’s visible in the flickering light of the fireworks. “I said good morning. It’s 12:01, that’s how time works.”
She laughs, utterly delighted. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”
“Well. Good. Now you can always think of me of that weirdo who wished you good morning on new years.” They down half their glass in one go, desperate for the distraction from their own drunken slip of the tongue. “I’m unable to think of anything poetic enough to try and explain myself, but I’m not sorry.”
“I like it.” She sets aside her glass, then takes theirs to put it aside as well. “Good morning, Echo,” she returns, and kisses them again.
i guess it's set in some vague sort of modern!au where signet has a super nice big apartment as this thing
It’s nearly midnight, but that doesn’t stop the raucous shouting from the other neighbors. The fireworks haven’t started, though a few stray ones went off earlier in the evening.
Echo kicks out their legs and hugs their sweater closer around their frame.
At their side, Signet tries to stifle a yawn, though when they cast her a glance, she’s still smiling fondly and just as nestled into her sweater as they are.
She must notice them staring, because she turns to face them, leaning over to bump their shoulders together. “I wonder if that apartment is in a different time zone,” she jokes, nodding her head in the direction of her neighbors that are having a large and noisy party in their living room. “It’s already the new year for them.”
Echo snorts and shifts so they can tuck their arm through hers. “You would think they’ve never seen the night sky before.”
“Don’t be sour.”
“They’re just being loud.”
Signet laughs and kisses their cheek. “We have the better view of the fireworks.”
Echo has to force themself to look away from her eyes and study the expanse of rooftops. The lights of the city are still fairly bright, so the stars are hard to see, but they don’t mind so much when perched on Signet’s roof.
She hums to herself as she pours another glass of champagne.
They take the glass offered to them, studying the bubbles in the pale wash of light. There are a few candles scattered around for ambiance, and if Echo ignores the sound and light from the neighbors, it actually makes for a perfect setting.
Their mind wanders in the direction of the new year--of summer nights on the roof, sleeping under the summer stars, Signet’s long legs, bare—
The list goes on.
Signet’s fingers on their wrist draw them out of their thoughts, and they jump at the touch. Her laughter is soft beneath a chorus of voices, and they realize that the countdown has started when they were zoned out.
She lifts her glass as the count hits ten, and Echo joins in--unable to help the grin that takes over, caught up in the infectious energy, even if they might have grumbled about it before.
The clock hits zero, the year rolls over, and the fireworks wash them in splashes of red and green and white and blue and Signet leans in to kiss them.
Their head is light and fuzzy and their chest feels like it’s filled with champagne bubbles and her kiss makes them feel delightfully dizzy.
“Happy new year,” she says simply when she finally pulls back.
Echo isn’t even thinking as they lift their glass to her. “Good morning.”
Signet stops--her own glass poised at her lips. “What?”
Their ears go red, not that it’s visible in the flickering light of the fireworks. “I said good morning. It’s 12:01, that’s how time works.”
She laughs, utterly delighted. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”
“Well. Good. Now you can always think of me of that weirdo who wished you good morning on new years.” They down half their glass in one go, desperate for the distraction from their own drunken slip of the tongue. “I’m unable to think of anything poetic enough to try and explain myself, but I’m not sorry.”
“I like it.” She sets aside her glass, then takes theirs to put it aside as well. “Good morning, Echo,” she returns, and kisses them again.