And Marcello said the time I spent in the Simpleton pub was wasted.
Angelo leaned back against a convenient building, out of the way of the celebration in the streets. He still wasn't quite sure what they were celebrating, just that it involved a great deal of singing, dancing, and vast quantities of a deceptively potent beverage, and he - while no longer even a nodding acquaintance with sobriety - at least had the experience to be in far better shape than any of the others.
Which was why he was retrieving them one-by-one and taking them back to the inn. So far, Eight had been sleepy, Yangus surly but blessedly uncoordinated, and Jessica distressingly elusive.
The crowds thinned again, and he pushed away from the building to resume his search. The town wasn't that big, and Jessica's failure to appear was starting to worry him.
A bit later - he wasn't sure how long, but long enough that he'd had to fend off half a dozen offers of drinks, and a dozen offers of a more interesting nature - a shout went up, and people stilled where they stood, heads tilted back. He followed the group gaze skyward in time to see the moon begin to slowly vanish from the sky.
That explains the celebration, it would seem.
The transfixed silence made his search easier, at least, and by the time the moon was completely dark he'd found her, staring heavenward with the rest.
"Jessica." He put his hands on her shoulders, and she sank against him, pliant and warm, tipping her head back with a smile he'd only dreamed of seeing from her.
Kissing her was reflex; he didn't really expect her to kiss back, or to twist in his hold and wrap her arms around him, pull him down for another kiss. Her hands tangled in his hair, held him still as if she thought he might actually want to escape.
Then she lost her balance; their lips parted, and she let out a giggle that was completely unlike her. Angelo sighed. "You're very drunk, aren't you?"
She giggled again, and he captured her hands before they could burrow inside his shirt. "You didn't like the kiss?"
"I assure you, I liked the kiss far more than would be healthy for me if you were sober." His thumb stroked the back of her wrist. "But now it's time to go back to the inn."
In the light of the slowly returning moon, he could see the coy glance she was giving him through her lashes. "If you think that's best."
"I'm sure it is," he said, and she obediently melted against his side; he could feel her nuzzling against his jacket, and it was going to take all of his self control to get them back to the inn.
He knew he was going to hate himself in the morning for throwing away this opportunity. But far better to hate himself, than for her to hate him.
Written for 101 Kisses. Theme: #73 - Eclipse, #81 - Sake, #82 - Coyness
