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The kitchen was a wreck in all accounts of the word, in fact it nearly looked like a war zone he had once worked in. Dishes were stacked haphazardly in the sink silverware still on the cramped wood of his dining table. He had offered to host the fellows for a late Christmas dinner after the snow ruined all of their plans, but now he was slightly regretting that choice. It wasn’t because he didn’t enjoy the company or the cooking. His affection for his co-worker ran from toleration to complete enjoyment, and he absolutely enjoyed cooking for a crowd instead of just himself. The clean up though… that was hard especially when disabled.
The work was repetitive though, something easy for his sleep deprived mind, he’s been up since five in the morning celebrating the rise of the new year with his adoptive family who of course just had to be sixteen hours ahead of his current time. It was enjoyable, but it was also very safe to say exhausting and he was not going at full capacity at all. “Athena towel.” he called to the dog , his hand dripping with abandoned droplets once all was clean. The dog perks up then trots over, grabbing a hand towel on her way over and dropping it in his lap. “Thank” he mutters absently, drying his hands before placing one on the dog’s broad head.
The corso huff happily at the feeling before, together, moving closer to the couch. The tv nearby was droning on with music he had never heard of until now, and lights that made his head dully ache.. It was tradition, even though it was one he still didn’t quite understand. He watches it for a moment, head slowly tilting before there is a sudden pounding at the door. “Who is it?” he asks to the closed door, Athena rigid at his side.
“Ingrid.” The simple deadpanned voice of the neurologist replies. At that, Xander eases, then nods to his service dog who was barely containing herself after hearing the woman at the door. With his permission she galloped to the door, nudged the lock and turned the handle allowing their friend in “Well good evening Athena.” She greeted the dog first with a pat on her head, then she walked over taking residence on the couch like she owned it.
Xander stares at her for a moment before clearing his throat, "Not that I mind intrusion, but why are ya here, on New Years Eve no less.” His voice is quiet but confused last he had heard, Ingrid was spending the New Years with her sister and if not Xander figured she would much rather be alone than with another.
“My sister ended up wanting to go to sleep early, we celebrated then went our ways. I figured that neither of us should celebrate alone tonight.” she shrugs, trying so hard to sound off hand or detached. The act would have worked on anyone else, but Xander could hear the slight nervousness there, like she was slightly worried he’d refuse.
He ponders this for a moment, “Suppose company would not be worst,” he shrugs. It isn’t by a long shot the worst new year had been the one in Africa, and considering he had a roof over his head and there was no active shooting it was already lightyears better.
“I’d sure hope not shrink,” Ingrid snickers, before turning towards the tv, “Do you even know what you’re watching?” she questions
Xander pauses for a minute turning his head to the TV “Eh no,” he states before continuing, “at home we had no dropping ball I mean big city had it and loud, loud fireworks. Mum took me once, absolutely hated it, but my, did her eyes used to glow seeing them. Still watch version of it every year, even if the music sucks, just habit.” he shrugs.
“Sounds boring.” she points out.
Xander stares at her for a second before giving a soft chuckle, “Kinda is, but not much else I can do, fosters celebrated New Years hours ago. After all, they are sixteen hours ahead of us.”
There’s a calm silence between them for a moment, “Then why don’t we make our own tradition.” she finally asks, surprising Xander and even herself with the proposition. Ingrid did not do personal connection; she usually avoided it at all costs. Her even suggesting something slightly social was different.
“You want to make… tradition? With me, why?” he asks, confused at the prospect of doing something different for New Years Eve.
“Well, I’m alone and you're alone, and let's just say you—” There is a moment's pause as Ingrid takes a breath, “Well you are not the worst company I could be keeping.” Her voice was uncharacteristically soft as she says it, and Xander catches a hint of nervousness
Xander takes a moment, thinks about it then nods, “See y’ur point, what do you want do?”
“What about that thriller we were talking about last week. Then closer to time we will turn it back on and watch the ball drop,” she suggests.
Xander smiles, “Yes, that sounds good.” he agrees before transferring onto the chair diagonal of her as she grabs his remote and pulls up a movie on the screen. .
– – – – – Watson – – – – –
They spent the next few hours absorbed in the movie, sometimes throwing comments about how unrealistically the movie displayed medical specialists and hospitals, much like the ones they worked in. Athena was curled between the two chairs, Ingrid’s hand in her fur, head resting on Xander’s knee. None had looked at the time recently, far too content in their shared peace to care.
As the credits roll, Xander finally looks at his clock in a far corner, and points at it, catching Ingrid’s attention. “Five minutes till,” he murmurs, stealing the remote from her to turn it back to the ball drop. They both wince at the sudden lights and noise on the television as another pop song rings through the speakers.
Finally, the countdown began something completely cliche and completely usual to bring in a new year.
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…
ONE!
The crowd in New York were going crazy as the clock finally hit twelve Xander still didn’t understand the assignment, it’s a new year sure, but he has learned long ago that it was never really a new start. It was a commercial holiday just like Valentine's Day. A time when people make promises to themselves that are never actually kept, but here in this moment he guess it isn’t so bad.
“Well, here’s to another torturous year Shrink, who knows, maybe just maybe this one won’t be nearly as life threatening or as serious as the last.” Ingrid mutters, standing up from where she was sprawled on the couch.
The psychiatrist looks at her slightly amused, “You say that like we don’t work for the one and only John Watson.” he deadpans.
The neurologist snicker, “True, even still, I think maybe this year is a little more worth living.” She doesn’t elaborate further, just leans down so she and Xander are eye to eye, and with no warning and a sense of sudden bravery she kisses his cheek.
There was a very long pause before Xander found his voice and cleared his throat, “What was that for?” he murmurs in disbelief as the raven- haired woman backs away surprised at herself.
“Let's just say New Years traditions,” she states, trying not to act as flustered as she felt, and cursing her heart for doing a flip. This was not who she was, she did not go around emotionally bonding with others much less kissing them. Which is why both seemed so confused about it.
“Ah… right Americans and their weird kissing ritual.” Xander mutters not at all hiding see faint crimson rising up his neck.
Ingrid felt the need to get out of there so with that she nods, pets Athena, and shows herself out saying, “You must be exhausted having been up since four, and I better get home. Good night Dr, Durham.” she left briskly and suddenly before Xander can get the words out
“Good night, Raven.” he whispers to the now empty room.
Meanwhile Ingrid goes to her car in a rush unable to hide the blush any longer, knowing full well she would not hear the end of this if Sasha ever found out about their little new year's kiss.