A Quintessential New Year's Eve
by Merry Amelie
Title: A Quintessential New Year's Eve
Author: Merry Amelie
Archive: MA only
Category: Alternate Reality, Angst, Qui/Obi, Romance, Series
Rating: NC-17
Summary: New Year's Eve at Alder Run.
I'm posting Arcadia and Q/O drabbles to TPM 100.
Series: Academic Arcadia -- # 118
A chronological list of the series with the URLs can be found under the header 'Academic Arcadia' at the Master Apprentice ML.
My MA story page is here.
Feedback: Is treasured at MerryAmelie@aol.com.
Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
For
My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, Carol, and Padawan Sue
Mali Wane for posting
My former betas: Alex and Ula
Information on Sirius, courtesy of Earth & Sky. Elvish, courtesy of 52 ways to say 'I love you.' in Quenya.
For Inya and Janet
"Too bad we can't make it..."
The voice on the cell phone did not sound at all apologetic. Quinn frowned as he stood on line at the post office. He listened numbly while his Uncle Sean wiggled out of the New Year's Eve party at Alder Run that night.
Quinn rang off and absently shook the small box of books he was mailing Danny and Amy Walker. He'd seen this coming. Wendy had told him that Sean had referred to him as "the fag in the family," though she'd wisely kept what he'd had to say about Ian to herself. Quinn didn't believe in shouting matches.
He'd always been the diplomat of the clan, keeping the peace when the inevitable petty squabbles came up. And now his uncle was at odds with his dad over this. He had avoided coming out for years to prevent just such a scenario.
Sighing, Quinn called Ian on his way to the dentist, telling him there'd be four less people to shop for. He tried to keep the tension out of his voice, but could tell by Ian's gentle tone that he'd failed.
Quinn's day of errands suddenly stretched endlessly before him, the hours until he'd see Ian and steal a kiss seeming like years. But no sign of trouble showed in his eyes, his composure in the face of this new family rift impeccable.
After a fifteen-minute wait, just made for brooding, he settled in the dentist's chair. His legs hung over the edge, and he could hear the usual creak as he tried to get comfortable. He tuned out the hygienist's chatter with a reflection upon serenity as she did battle with his plaque. Of course, he didn't escape with just his teeth cleaned; one of his fillings had cracked and needed to be replaced.
Calling the dentist in with an alarmingly bright smile, she left him to the tender mercies of the drill. And the forty minutes more he spent in the chair, novocaine swelling his right cheek, were just what he needed under the circumstances, he thought ruefully.
Free after a last rinse, he braced himself for the bill, despite their good dental plan. Stuffing his new toothbrush in his coat pocket, he dashed to the bakery for a sacher torte, then finally turned his steps towards home. Ian met him at the door, a sure sign his lad knew how he was feeling. A tender kiss, and he was held in his husband's loving embrace.
"At least your dad doesn't feel the same way Sean does anymore," Ian soothed.
Quinn's lips turned up a bit against Ian's hair. "Thank goodness, lad. That's the important thing. If we tried to win over every uncle, aunt, and cousin, it would take until our golden anniversary."
Ian chuckled, relieved that Quinn could joke about the situation. "And remember, we're not the only ones going through something like this. Bant's own brother isn't talking to her right now because she didn't make it to his graduation."
Quinn nodded into copper strands. "Yeah, and that's only because she couldn't find a proctor for her final."
Ian frowned. "Talk about petty."
"Mmm-hmm, at least Sean's objections run deep," Quinn said wryly.
Ian's kiss was just as deep, and almost made Quinn forget about prejudiced uncles and empty seats at their table.
Quinn sighed. "Well, let's get started on the buffalo wings. We've still got plenty of folks to feed soon."
"Just one thing first. We'll be too tired after the guests leave." Ian led Quinn to the office and grinned when his husband switched on the model train set. They kissed as the miniature hobbit train trundled around the room. Ian had made Westfarthing Grapes the locomotive, since Quinn had mentioned it was his favorite car.
Ian had suggested this charming tradition last year, when he'd seen Quinn's smile after he and his father had run the trains that New Year's Eve.
Seeing the carriages chug along the track always reminded them of their first meeting, as well. Who would have thought that Business Class on the Amtrak Acela could ever be so romantic?
Against all odds, the buffalo wings got done, along with pierogies, mini hot dogs, meatballs, and pizza bites. They'd decided to make the kitchen table a buffet, since they were hosting so many people this year, even with the four absentees.
The Luke contingent of Case, Ethan, and Evan arrived first, followed by Bant and the Palmers, their next-door neighbors. The Mastersons and Prentices came last, having to contend with holiday traffic.
Just as Quinn reached up to the top shelf to get a platter, Lelia toddled into the kitchen, wanting to kiss her uncles. He swung her into his arms, kissing her blonde curls. "How's my little sweetheart?"
Lelia snuggled into his hug, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Okay!" This was one of her new favorite words, and she'd probably get it in at least ten more times that night.
Quinn turned so Lelia could kiss Ian, too, then set her down carefully so she could run to Mommy when Kathy came in.
"Thanks for inviting us, fellas." Kathy put her Greek salad on the counter, and added her own peck on the cheek to Lelia's. "Your dad has the Cristal, Ian."
Ian grinned at Quinn as they both remembered the wedding basket Jo and Keith had surprised them with in Windover, Cristal Champagne peeking out from the wicker strands.
Hugs all around as the rest of the guests crowded into the kitchen. Soon, the food was arranged on platters, a good thing with all the hearty eaters there. Everyone filled their own plates, and they met in the living room, where Ian had set up folding tables and chairs.
Lelia couldn't be budged from Quinn's side the whole evening. Uncle Qui had to hear every detail of her nursery school class' celebration that afternoon. An exhaustively described white cupcake later, Lelia had finally talked herself out and was ready for a nap.
Quinn excused himself to tuck her in, chuckling when he realized she was the only reason they needed the second bed these days. When he came back to the others, Monty was telling a story from when Ian was Lelia's age. Instantly charmed, he sat down to listen.
"Ian had never stayed up past eight o'clock before, but he begged Mom to let him come down to the party. He had this amazing pout back then..."
Quinn chuckled to himself, thinking that Ian's pout was still just as amazing, though he was the only one lucky enough to see it, usually behind the closed door of their bedroom.
"...and Mom just couldn't resist it. So there he was, asleep on the hearth rug, with all the guests cooing over him. Mom covered him with our brown quilt and let him sleep there until a bit after midnight. Then she scooped him up and put him to bed."
Quinn's eyes widened as he listened to the story. His thoughts went back to their first New Year's Eve together in Padua, when they'd fallen asleep together on that very same hearth rug, covered by that very same quilt. He saw Ian winking at him and grinned back, their minds clearly running on the same track.
Jo chose that moment to look over at them, a gentle smile on her face as she recalled both times her son had fallen asleep on that rug on New Year's Eve. Thank goodness Ian had found Quinn to warm him when he'd grown up!
Monty was winding down now, he and everyone else in the room oblivious to the tender memories stirred in the three of them. He and Kathy started clearing the plates, with Bant, Ethan, and Jo helping them. Just as she had at Thanksgiving, Jo waved her hand for Ian and Quinn to stay put.
She could teach them a few tricks, Quinn thought fondly. Apparently, they would have to wait for Kathy's birthday party in Padua before they'd be allowed to see a dishcloth again at a family get-together. He was distracted from his reverie when Evan turned on the television. Midnight was fast approaching, and the inevitable picture of Times Square appeared on the screen.
When the clean-up was done, everyone gathered around the TV, while Quinn handed out the flutes and Ian poured the Cristal. Excitement shimmered in the air around them.
Quinn smiled as his husband came to join him, delighted by the anticipation in his eyes. "Four, three, two, one," he chanted under his breath.
A chorus of "Happy New Year's" rang through the small house. Glasses clinked, everybody sipped champagne, and hugs and kisses greeted 2008.
As he made the rounds of their guests, Quinn saw his father wave him over. He might've imagined it, but he thought his dad's hug lasted a little longer than usual.
Finally, Quinn returned to his husband's side. He took Ian in his arms and kissed him as if they were alone, heedless of family and friends gathered around them.
And what a kiss! The sweet pressure of Ian's lips was more potent than the Cristal, sweeping through Quinn faster than champagne ever could.
Eventually, the sounds of the party permeated Quinn's happy haze, and he became the perfect host once more. Their tired guests were ready to go home now, and he helped Ian find their coats and walk them to the door.
Alone at last, Quinn surprised Ian by getting their own jackets.
"Come out back with me a moment, lad?" Quinn's lilt was so captivating, Ian would've followed him to Coruscant if he had asked. He poured another tot of champagne into their flutes, and they took them into the backyard.
In what had become their skywatching tradition, Ian leant back into his arms, warming him down to his toes. He faced south and tilted his lad's chin up, eager to dip his thumb into the inviting dimple.
Sirius blazed bright for them, its cold beauty an unexpected enchantment. Turning in Quinn's arms, Ian raised his glass as his herven (husband) did the same.
"Here's to a wonderful new year with you, my love." Ian clinked flutes with Quinn and they sipped the Cristal.
"Not to mention a light year, lad." Quinn's voice was as dry as the champagne.
"I *am* rubbing off on you, aren't I?" Ian's grin was absolutely infectious.
"Hope you will be soon, laddie." Quinn continued his teasing, even as he steered Ian inside and hung up their coats.
They tended to Artoo and Sandy, then made their grateful way to the bedroom. Shucking their clothes off and hitting the lights, they dove for the bed, pulling the covers up to their chins against the cold.
Ian yawned, but was determined to celebrate the new year right. He pulled Quinn on top of him, only to realize he was even heavier than usual from fatigue. A few kisses later, he didn't even notice the extra weight on him.
Quinn's kisses grew eager in spite of himself. His husband had a way of doing that to him. His shaft decided to take an interest, especially when it bumped up against Ian's. Long, deep kisses above the covers; long, luxurious thrusts below.
"Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! Ohh!" Ian was shuddering now, wet with a delicious blend of sweat and pre-come. Sliding, pushing, grunting, he was lost in the moment.
Quinn captured that beautiful mouth and gave a gentle bite to the lower lip, while his powerful hips ground Ian into the mattress. He didn't know it, but he'd started speaking Quenya, whispering his love in the Elvish that had brought them together. "Inye melil."
Ian gasped out "Melinyel" (both say "I love you") as his hips spasmed under Quinn. He came in heated rushes, his head falling back onto the pillow. Quinn followed him with a roar of pure joy as his semen pumped onto Ian's stomach and thighs.
Now Ian could feel every pound on top of him again. His grunt penetrated Quinn's sated daze, and his husband rolled off him slowly. He reached for the tissues and cleaned them up, along with a few streaks that had made it to the sheet. Pulling Quinn under his wing, he settled down for the night.
The year was off to a rousing start.