Work Text:
Snow Joke was filmed before a live studio audience
Snow drifts down onto the street, piling up on the windowsill as Noelle taps her pen against her lips, trying to find the perfect order of words to scribble into her notebook. The entire thing is covered in illegible notes, with lines crossed out and reworded thousands of times. Coffee steams next to her in a comically large mug, Christmas music playing faintly in the distance.
“You’ve got something right-” Bruno points to her cheek and plops into the seat across from her.
Noelle swipes at it absently, smearing the ink all over her face. “Did I get it?”
The audience laughs as he shakes his head and Noelle swipes at the other side of her face.
“Sure. Anyways, are you ready to go?” he asks, dropping a pair of ice skates onto the table like it’s a totally normal thing to do.
“Go break a leg? Yeah, no thanks!”
“Aw, come on, please?”
There’s more laughter as he drops to his knees and begs.
“Bruno, I said no. We have deadlines to meet. And I’ll need more coffee to get there, so if you’ll excuse me…”
Still stumbling on his knees (to the delight of the audience), he follows after her. “Come on, please, please, please.”
“ Fine.”
“Yay!” Not bothering to stand up, Bruno wraps his arms around her waist and hangs on tight as she continues to fight her way to the counter.
“Uh, Noelle? Are you even listening to me?”
Back in reality, she and Bruno are sitting side-by-side in the dingy room the studio has set aside for their writing needs instead of the coffee shop of her daydream. The table is a rickety folding table that never rests flat on the floor, one of the light bulbs flickers constantly, and it always smells faintly of mildew. Her chair is anything but comfortable, the demands of production are regularly insane, and she hasn’t seen daylight in days, but there’s nothing else she’d rather be doing than writing for her all-time favorite sitcom.
Bruno’s just the icing on top of the cake. She’s been in love with him pretty much since the moment she met him: cheesy jokes and all. Those blue-gray eyes of his are always sparkling with the promise of a joke, making her lean forward instinctively to see if he’ll let her in on the fun. When they’d first met last year, his hair had been bleach-blonde and he hadn’t bothered to touch it up since, leaving about six inches of his naturally brown hair at the base. He wears shirts with patterns that make her cringe and is the human embodiment of a dad joke, and yet she loves him a little more every day.
“So? What do you think of the joke?”
Biting her lip, Noelle leans forward to look at what he’s written. “Good idea. Poor execution. Don’t feed the audience the punchline right away. You’ve got to make it a little more subtle.”
“Subtle. Right. I can do that.”
She nearly starts laughing out loud. Bruno? The man’s about as subtle as an excited puppy pissing on your leg. Impossible to forget, impossible to ignore, and even more impossible to not instantly adore.
If her life was like one of the many sitcoms she loved, he’d also be crushing hard on her and trying to hide it. They’d be Ross and Rachel, Jake and Amy, Jim and Pam, Nick and Jess – everyone just waiting for the moment when they’d finally get together. Bruno would think it was cute when she tripped over her words or whenever he caught her daydreaming. Every day would be an adventure that brought them together, instead of an endless cycle of rewrites and new scripts that pile up on their shared desk.
“Noelle? It’s time for lunch, are you coming?” he asks, bundling up to brave the cold.
Waving him off, she barely even looks up. She’s on a roll, and nothing’s going to stop her. Nothing, that is, except her boss coming in to berate her for not being five episodes ahead of schedule. Dylan’s always expected them to be able to read his mind and anticipate the increasingly ridiculous demands he’s placed on them, but he’s particularly cranky and insufferable around the holidays. So it’s no surprise when he comes in and demands to see the finished product of tomorrow’s script despite having previously given them until the end of the day to complete it.
It’s not Bruno’s fault that Dylan keeps changing plot lines every five minutes, but that doesn’t stop her from taking it out on him when he finally returns, gripping two takeout coffees in his mittened hands.
“Where were you? Dylan just came in here to box my ears because tomorrow’s scripts aren’t ready yet.”
“We were on a break!” he protests. There’s a dusting of red across his cheeks that’s really cute, whether from the cold or a blush she’ll never know. “Hopefully this will make it up to you? It’s that new gingerbread oak melt thing you were babbling on about wanting to try.”
“The gingerbread oat milk chai?!” Noelle happily wraps her hands around the offered sacrifice. “I love you.”
Bruno drapes his scarf over the back of his chair and settles in next to her. “You’re talking to the coffee, aren’t you?”
“Of course.” As she takes a sip of the spicy sweet drink, she can almost make herself believe she is just talking about the coffee. A familiar warmth fills her chest and spreads through her limbs, a comforting smell that always makes her feel like she’s five years old and sitting at her nana’s kitchen table.
“I have no idea how you drink that stuff. I’ll stick to my sugar no cream, thank you.”
“Aw, come on, you’re missing out! Aren’t you curious?”
“Maybe a little,” he admits, reaching out for her cup.
She yanks it out of the way immediately. Bruno might be the love of her life, but coffee is sacred. “Not mine! Get your own!”
Chuckling, Bruno turns back to their work. “You’re an addict, I swear.”
“Does that make you my dealer?”
“I guess so. But only cause I know you’ll bite my head off if you don’t get your caffeine fix.”
“In the wise words of Donna Meagle and Tom Haverford: Treat. Yo. Self.”
“Except I’m always the one treating!”
They fall into a familiar routine of silence and hurried typing. Every once in a while, she swears she can feel his eyes on her, but when she looks up, he’s completely engrossed in his computer screen.
Losing her place, Noelle looks up at Bruno, scribbling so furiously onto his pages that he’s got graphite smeared all over his hand. It’s cute, how into his work he is. His hair is sticking straight up as if he’s literally been hit by a lightning bolt of inspiration, his eyes shining happily.
She can sense the moment just before he looks up, some unconscious instinct telling her to turn her attention back to her screen before he catches her staring.
Unbeknownst to her, he’s been doing the same thing, not getting any work done as he gets distracted by the way her hair shines or the excited gleam in her eye. And in TV land, it’s fine that they don’t get their work done.
The audience is hanging on every pining look, just waiting for the moment when one of them is too slow and they meet each other’s eyes. They audibly groan and gasp when it looks like they might catch each other in the act. It never happens of course, but the collective anticipation is enough to carry them through to the next major plot point.
Bruno looks uncharacteristically shy as he pulls on his coat. “Hey, Noelle… What are you doing tomorrow night?” Her heart flutters in her chest as he scuffs his boot on the floor and rushes to explain himself in the most Bruno way she could imagine. “I know it’s Christmas Eve and you’ve probably got plans, but I remember you saying that with the deadlines and stuff you weren’t going to be able to make it home for the holidays, and I was wondering-”
“I’m not doing anything tomorrow night, why?”
“My roommate Youcef hosts this big party every year and I was wondering if you would maybe want to come? With me?”
“Really? Won’t he be mad if you add a last-minute guest?”
Blushing, he awkwardly fidgets with his scarf. “Well, you see, I had a date, but… Well, everyone will just make fun of me if I come alone, so, will you please come with me?”
Oh. Of course he was seeing someone. She probably just got caught up in family stuff and couldn’t make it. Just Noelle’s luck. Even worse was the fact that he hadn’t told her. They’d been working together for months; did he really not consider her a good enough friend to share personal details with?
Shaking off the misery that had fallen over her like a blanket of snow, Noelle forces a smile. “Sure, I’d love to come.”
“Perfect,” he says, smiling at her and melting away all the negative feelings that are storming in her heart. How the hell can she stay mad at him when he’s looking at her like that ? “I’ll pick you up at seven?”
“Seven sounds great.”
Noelle rushes around the flat, shoving things into a closet to try to make it look like she regularly cleans her apartment. There’s a pristine Santa hat perched upon her head, and she’s wearing a red dress to match.
“Coming!” she calls as Bruno knocks, pressing her back to the closet door to get it to close. The audience laughs as special effects play a sound akin to everything she owns crashing to the ground. Shrugging, Noelle ignores it.
He whistles as she lets him in, surveying the apartment. “Uh, Noelle? Why is there a bunny on the counter?”
“That’s Edward. He likes to be tall.”
“If you say so. Ready to go?”
“Ready as I'll ever be.”
White snow lines the streets as they make their way down to Bruno’s car. Everywhere she looks during the short drive is covered in holiday decorations: gorgeous string lights in elaborate designs and wreaths on every door.
Youcef, who Noelle has only met in passing, greets them upon arrival with a wide smile on his face. “Welcome! Come on in! But before you do…” Wearing a mischievous grin that’s completely at odds with the happy elf on his jumper, he holds a sprig of mistletoe over their heads. “You have to pay the toll!”
Blushing, Bruno mutters something under his breath and pulls Noelle into a kiss (earning some hollers and wolf-whistles from the studio audience). Or well, he tries to, except they end up butting noses and pulling back in pain. For the rest of the party, the other guests try increasingly bizarre ways to get them together: making up drinking game rules to get her to sit in his lap, Youcef and his mistletoe appearing overhead frequently. Before the thirty minute-episode is over, a drunken guest will have spilled the beans.
“So,” he slurs, throwing an arm over her shoulder. “Did it work?”
“Did what work?” she asks as Bruno makes a throat-slicing motion behind her back.
“The party! It was all to impress you!” The drunk tries to lower his voice but is still shouting over the sounds of Kelly Clarkson. “Bruno likes you!”
Someone accidentally spills something on the speakers and the music cuts out suddenly, leaving Bruno staring at her in horror as Noelle stands in shocked silence. If they wanted to, they could leave the audience on a cliffhanger, making everyone wait a week to see how she would react. Or they could have her do what she’s been wanting to do since they met – throw herself into his arms and kiss him soundly.
But life isn’t a sitcom. In reality, her flat is a mess. Edward is indeed on the counter, but it’s because he hopped up there hoping to find food and is too scared to jump back down. His brother Jacob preens at the base, acting like he isn’t secretly hoping Edward will share his spoils.
It’s not snowing outside, but raining; cold drops splattering against the window and turning everything gray. The Santa hat she managed to dig out of storage has seen better days: patches of different shades of red from multiple mendings cover more surface area than the original hat, the ball at the end falling into her face and refusing to rest anywhere else. She’s wearing a green dress insead of a matching Santa one because who has time to find a dress like that?
Bruno’s late, but that’s to be expected. The day Bruno Kaminski is on time for something will be a very surprising day indeed. He’s almost twenty minutes late when he finally arrives, holding up a Starbucks cup in a gesture of surrender.
“Ready to go?”
Noelle takes a sip of the drink to stall for time, letting the chocolate and peppermint wash over her tongue. In truth, he just looks really cute and she wants a second to have him to herself. Bruno has swapped out one tacky shirt for another, sporting a Christmas jumper complete with flashing lights and a giant reindeer. His hair is damp from the rain, falling over his eyes instead of sticking straight up like usual. Like always, his eyes are twinkling with warmth, a smile on his face as he grabs her by the hand and pulls her out the door. Noelle tries to ignore the butterflies erupting in her stomach, but it’s no use.
“Come on! We’re going to be late!” he protests, tapping his foot anxiously as she fumbles with her keys.
It takes everything in her not to focus on the fact that he still hasn’t let go of her hand.
“Bruno, we’re already late.”
Rolling his eyes, he practically pulls her down to the waiting taxi, sprinting out into the pouring rain.
“Are you coming or what?” he asks, holding out a hand.
“It’s chucking it down!”
“Well damn, Noelle, I don’t control the weather!”
Laughing, she follows him, letting the rain splash on her skin as they slide into the taxi. Bruno’s leg starts bouncing with nervous energy the second he takes his seat. It’s such a Bruno-like motion that Noelle can’t help but melt. He’s a restless ball of energy, always fiddling with something or fidgeting in his seat. At first, she found his constant chatter and squirming annoying, snapping her out of her writing zone. But over time, she’s become endeared to all his little quirks to the point where she has to have chaos around her when she’s writing.
He’s humming ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’ and Noelle finds herself joining in without really meaning too. But it is a duet, and no matter how hard Bruno tries, he can’t hit both melodies at once. A large smile crosses his face as her soft humming joins his. He doesn’t even look at her, too busy watching the houses they pass. Large inflatable Frosty’s and Ruldoph's replace the lighting displays she remembers from her childhood, but the excitement is radiating off him in waves. And when Bruno’s happy, she’s happy.
Noelle can’t help but wish that his mood didn’t affect her so much, but she can’t help it. Bruno’s the funny one in this pairing; she just tweaks his jokes to fit the storyline of the show and the flow of the current conversation. Not a single day goes by where he doesn’t make her smile. But times like this, where she’s the reason he’s smiling; she lives for moments like this.
The taxi driver seems utterly unamused by their off-key, impromptu performance, grunting as he drops them off and speeding away the second Bruno shuts the door.
“Hey, um, you should know…” he starts, looking at his feet nervously.
He never gets the chance to finish his sentence. The front door swings open with a loud bang, the sounds of Christmas music and conversation trickling outside along with a silver-haired man Noelle thinks she’s seen before.
“Is this the girl?” he asks with a thick French accent. “I can’t believe she actually exists!”
Flustered, Noelle can’t do anything more than shoot Bruno a look as Youcef pecks her on both cheeks and ushers them into the house, babbling about how he can’t believe there’s someone out there who would actually date Bruno.
‘Just go with it, please,’ Bruno mouths, his blue-gray eyes wide and pleading.
‘Fine, but you owe me,' she mouths back.
Okay, so it’s not going to be hard for her to pretend she’s in love with Bruno Kaminski. But what is going to be hard is the moment she has to go back to reality. The moment when she’s just Noelle, Bruno’s coworker who’ll never be anything more – that moment is going to hurt like a bitch.
“How’s Trish?” Bruno asks as they make their way deeper into the house.
“Heartbroken.” Youcef doesn’t sound all that broken up about it, which makes Noelle wonder who Trish even is.
They’ve barely even entered the kitchen when a posh-looking guy corners her at the makeshift bar. “Be honest with me. Are you being paid? Is he holding you hostage? Blink twice if you need help,” he demands, not even bothering to introduce himself.
Bruno rolls his eyes and hands her a White Russian. Noelle’s heart jumps into her throat as she realizes that he didn’t even have to ask her what she usually drinks. “Hamish, this is Noelle. Noelle, this is Hamish. You can ignore him; the rest of us do.”
“I’m wounded, mate. The Ham-Man is a delight.”
“That’s a quid for the Douche Jar, Hammy,” Youcef orders.
“Aw, come on! I’m just trying to get Noelle here to see the error of her ways. I mean, how could she want to stick with Bruno when I’m right here.”
Cola spills from Bruno’s cup as he sputters in protest. “Hey!”
“I’m sorry, mate. It’s what happens when you have a top physical specimen as a friend. It’s just something you have to learn to live with.”
Youcef shakes his head in annoyance. “Make it two quid.”
Sulking, Hamish stomps over to a nearby jar practically overflowing with money and shoves the bills inside. Noelle has to bite back her laugh when she notices the sticky-note in Bruno’s handwriting that changes the label from ‘Douche Jar’ to ‘Hamish Jar’.
“Bruno!” Hamish roars.
Immediately, Bruno shoves his drink into Noelle’s hands, shoots her an apologetic look, and sprints away. Leaving her alone. In a house where she knows no one. And where, apparently, the only thing they all know about her is that she’s dating Bruno. Which is an obvious lie. Fucking fantastic.
Noelle is left awkwardly sipping her drink and letting her mind wander.
In fantasy land, Youcef comes over to drape a garland over her neck and slap her on the back. “I’m so glad he finally brought you!” he says, winking in her direction. “He’s been going on about you for ages .”
“Really?” she asks, fighting back a smile in plain view of the audience.
“Oh, really. He’s got an ‘I heart Noelle’ shirt that he sleeps in and everything.” Youcef’s wit is so dry that she almost doesn’t get the joke in time.
“You’re putting me on.”
“Only partly. Bruno is crazy about you.”
More people chime in, floating in and out of the room on a whim. But the one thing that’s constant is that they all agree that Bruno is absolutely crazy about her. And no matter how badly she tries to hide how happy it makes her, she can’t. Butterflies flutter in her stomach at every word, each new person making her smile grow wider and wider.
There’s no awkward sense of loneliness or doubt, just a natural friendliness and sense of comradery that’s never really present in real life.
“So you’re the girl everyone’s been talking about,” a girl croons, propping herself against the counter and blatantly examining Noelle. “Bruno’s… girlfriend.”
From the way she pauses on the last word, she knows that she sees right through her. And it makes her think that there might be some history there. And why wouldn’t there be? This girl’s edgy with short, bright pink hair and bold make-up choices. Nothing at all like quiet, run-of-the-mill Noelle.
Noelle immediately decides that she does not like this girl. “Yeah, and?”
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Wait, really? Does Bruno really come home and tell everyone about her?
Just that thought has her feeling giddier than a schoolgirl. A part of her wants to cave and beg this person to tell her everything he’s ever said about her. But then she remembers that this girl is trying to get her to crack, and Noelle’s no pushover.
Okay, when it comes to Bruno she is a pushover, but that’s it! Most of the time… Sometimes. But not today.
“Hmm, and yet I’ve never heard anything about you…”
“Cora. My name is Cora. It’s not like I’ve been-”
“Noelle!” Bruno swoops in and wraps both hands around her waist, pecking her on the cheek and looking a lot drunker than the last time she saw him.
Nope, she’s definitely not going to be hyper-fixating on that little brush of his lips against her skin for the next… forever. Nope, not her. It’s not like that one little kiss has warmth spreading through her and an instinctive smile breaking out on her face. Or makes her dream about what it would’ve been like if she’d turned her head just a little bit or if he just kissed her on the mouth instead.
Playfully, she pretends to push him away before snuggling in closer, trying to ignore the way his body radiates a comforting warmth that spreads through her entire body. “You left me all alone!” she pouts.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he says in a sing-song-voice. “Promise.”
The wink he gives her is more than enough to send some, um, less than wholesome thoughts racing through her head. Her tongue darts out to part her lips in anticipation, losing herself in the adoring look in Bruno’s eyes and-
“Ahem.”
Oh yeah, Cora is still here. Can’t the girl take a hint and beat it?
“Cora! Oh my god, I didn’t even see you there!” Bruno exclaims.
As the two of them make idle chit-chat, Noelle can almost believe that Bruno really wants to be here with her. He’s still hugging her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder as his thumb strokes the velvet on her hip. Hot breath stirs against her cheek with his every breath, his arms wrapped around her and making her feel safe and warm.
It’s everything she’s ever wanted, and yet she can’t help the sadness that comes creeping in. This time tomorrow, they’ll be back to who they’ve always been: just friendly coworkers and nothing more. He’ll have his arms wrapped tightly around some other girl, the one he was supposed to be here with, and she’ll go back to loving him from afar.
The sadness comes creeping in before she can stop it. Even when Bruno and Youcef sweep the floor in reindeer pong (which is really just beer pong) and she gets a rare glimpse into his head when they play naughty or nice (or truth or dare as it’s known any other time of year), she can’t help but feel like she’s just playing a part, that anyone else could be in her place and nothing would change. Noelle isn’t essential to this picture-perfect scene – when she’s re-casted, everyone will say it’s for the better.
“Hey, you okay?” Bruno asks, nudging her with his shoulder.
It feels like a cruel twist of fate when ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’ starts playing. Earlier, the song had felt like their own private thing, now it’s being shared with everyone and Noelle can’t stop it.
“Yeah, I mean- I’ll be okay. I always land on my feet.”
“Noelle…”
“I said I’m fine.”
With a chuckle, he sets his beer on the table and pulls her off the couch. “Yeah, that’s not gonna fool me, I know you too well. Now come on, I want to show you something.”
Her heart feels like it’s about to pound out of her chest as Bruno pulls her towards the stairs.
“Ohhhhh, Bruno and Noelle are gonna bangggg ,” Hamish teases.
Youcef slaps him on the back of the head. “That one’s five quid.”
“I said a bang-bang-bangity-bang,” Hamish sings to the tune of ‘We Wish You A Merry Christmas’. “Bang-bang-bangity-bang!”
Bruno ignores them completely, guiding her upstairs with a hand on her lower back. Just that small amount of contact makes Noelle feel like she’s about to sweat through this dress. Heat is spreading out from his palm and into her circulation, traveling through her veins and warming her to the core. It’s not fair that this clumsy boy who makes cheesy puns and doesn’t know the meaning of the word organized has such a hold on her heart.
Tears prick her eyes as they enter his bedroom. There’s a massive SCRUBS poster on one wall, his favorite sitcom, just above the messiest desk she’s ever seen in her life. The covers on his bed are rumpled, as if he pulled them up hastily and decided that was good enough, and there’s a pile of laundry on the floor that he quickly kicks away with an embarrassed flush. Chocolate stains some of the papers on his bedside table, the open advent calendar sitting next to it the likely culprit. The sight makes her smile. Bruno’s always had a bit of a sweet tooth, even if he prefers to stick to the classics instead of branching out.
“Tell me the truth,” he begs. “You’re clearly upset.”
Overflowing affection is reflected in his eyes, the icy color of the sky right before it snows. It’s not fair. He doesn’t get to look at her like that when there’s someone else in his life. Because the way he’s looking at her right now… she could survive on that look alone. Bruno is looking at her like seeing her hurting is physically paining him, as if he’d gladly do whatever it took to make her feel better.
“Are you wishing you could’ve gone home?” Bruno asks as she stares at her hands and stubbornly refuses to speak. This would all be so much easier if Noelle weren’t so terrified that she’ll start sobbing if she opens her mouth. “I know it’s not the same, but I got you something.”
Noelle has to bite back a laugh as he hands her a horribly wrapped package. The paper is ripped in places, more tape on it than needed. It’s bent in weird angles as if Bruno got fed up with the shape of the package and slapped the whole thing together. But at the same time, it’s so obviously him that it makes her heart skip a beat.
“Oh, Bruno…” she gasps.
Inside the package is a pair of green silk pajamas decorated with candy canes and stockings. A bright red bow is wrapped around the waistband, matching the color of the pattern. Between the thin fabric and the spaghetti straps of the top, it’s not going to do a thing to keep her warm, but it’s the thought that counts.
He shrugs and looks down at his feet, blushing crimson. “I know it’s not a lot, but you mentioned that your dad always gets you pajama sets on Christmas Eve, and I figured that if you can’t go home, this might be the next best thing.”
Noelle has no idea what possesses her to fling her arms around him and press their lips together, but something does: eggnog, mulled wine, coffee liquor… who knows. All she knows is that one second she’s thinking she’ll never be able to thank him enough and the next they’re kissing. Nothing too intense, just a gentle glide of her lips against his, but enough. It’s enough to let her know that he tastes like Christmas: all warm spices and smoky comfort. Enough to make her heart pound in her chest and heat flare to life in her soul.
And then, as soon as the joy fades, she’s left to face reality. Bruno has gone completely stiff, refusing to kiss her back. For fuck’s sake, she just ruined everything. She was finally starting to feel like he sees her as a friend outside of work and now she’s effectively thrown it all away. One impulsive decision and Bruno Kaminski is gone from her life forever.
“I’m so sorry!” she sputters, pulling away in a blind panic. Her thoughts are racing a mile a minute, trying and failing to come up with an excuse that won’t push him even further away. “I didn’t-”
With a firm grasp on the back of her neck, Bruno pulls her back to him. This time, he wraps an arm tightly around her waist as he kisses her with everything he has. Noelle damn near loses her mind at the intensity of this kiss. His tongue glides against hers eagerly, sucking the alcohol off her lips and replacing it with the heady taste of him. There’s a pounding against her palm, his heart thumping like the racket of reindeer hoofs in a Christmas special. Her Santa hat falls to the ground as Bruno presses her body against his, his hands fumbling to eliminate any remaining space between them.
It all feels like a dream. Maybe she hit her head and is living out one of her thousands of sitcom fantasies. She’s half expecting an old man in a Santa Claus costume to bust through the door and announce that he’s granted her truest Christmas wish.
But with every second that passes, Noelle becomes more and more certain that this is reality. The familiar smell of juniper and lemon swirls around him; the same cologne Bruno has worn every day since they met. Sticky hair gel coats every strand and makes it harder for her to weave her hands into his hair, but she can’t bring herself to care. Laughter and the sounds of holiday music drift up the stairs, but Noelle’s finding herself to be much more invested in the moans escaping Bruno’s lips.
Her head falls back on instinct as Bruno nestles against her neck, his hot lips tracing a scorching path from her jaw to her collarbone. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he groans. “Do you have any idea what it does to me? Sitting across from you every day and knowing that you’ll never see me as anything more than a friend?”
Even through the hazy fog of his kisses, his words sink in, locking themselves into her heart for safekeeping. Each one is a gift, something to be unwrapped and treasured when she has the time to reflect on this moment.
And then it hits her.
“Wait!” There’s a flicker of something strange in her chest when he immediately stops. “I thought… weren’t you supposed to be here with another girl? Your… girlfriend?”
Confusion, then understanding alights in his eyes. “Promise you won’t laugh at me?”
“That depends on what you say next.”
“Well… the guys were getting pretty tired of me always talking about you, and they dared me to ask you out. Except every time I thought about doing it, my palms got all sweaty and my tongue felt too big for my mouth and I bailed.”
Crossing her arms, Noelle stubbornly stares him down. “Still doesn’t explain why you told me you had another date or why everyone thinks we’re dating.”
“Umm, that might be because I lied and told them I asked you and you said yes?”
“Bruno!”
He blushes and dodges the pillow she tries to whack him with. “I panicked, okay?! Hamish kept bugging me, and if you think you’ve seen how annoying he can be you’re dead wrong, and Youcef was giving me that disapproving stare of his and it just came out.”
“Let me get this straight,” Noelle says, plucking her hat off the floor and setting it back on her head. “You’ve got a crush on me and instead of asking me to come to your party as a first date, you lied to everyone and made me pretend to be your girlfriend in the hopes of saving face with them and getting to spend time with me?”
“Well, when you put it like that…”
Laughing, she leans forward to peck him on the lips once more. “Oh, Bruno, I never thought I’d say this, but you have been watching way too many sitcoms.”
“But you love sitcoms!”
“Yeah, but they’re not real life.”
“I dunno, Brooklyn 99 has some very quotable moments,” he says with a smirk. “I don’t think I can say it better than Jake.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I love your face and I love your butt so…”
Laughing, Noelle tries to lightly shove Bruno back, but he wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his lap instead. “That was incredibly cheesy.”
“Maybe, but you still love it.”
Bruno’s always been playful, but this new, flirty side of him has her feeling downright giddy. He’s so open now, planting soft little pecks on her cheek whenever she’s close. With a light giggle, Noelle takes off her hat and plops it on top of his head.
“There,” she remarks, “now you look the part.”
The effect is slightly ruined by the blinking red nose of his jumper, but oh well.
“And what do you want for Christmas, little girl?” he teases, transforming his voice into something deeper and booming.
Unable to contain her laughter, she wraps both arms around his neck and presses their foreheads together. “Is it horribly melty if I say you?”
Those gorgeous eyes of his sparkle as he strokes his imaginary beard. “Maybe, but I’ll allow it.”
As he leans forward to kiss her again, Noelle can’t help but lose herself in the moment. Somewhere in the recesses of her brain, she’s thinking that this is it: fade to black, roll credits, the whole shebang. Play Mariah Carrey’s ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ and let the wall of names scroll past, leaving the audience to imagine what comes next. But this isn’t a sitcom. This is real, and this is new and they’re just getting started.