Okay, you know that whole sad part at the end of the 100th? I'm not writing about it. I'm going to pretend it didn't happen. Let's focus on the fun part, shall we? Like how many episodes I'm going to have to re-watch now that we know how they met. I felt the need to explore the Santa in the Slush scene armed with the knowledge that that wasn't their first kiss. this is kind of drabble-ey. And definitely stream-of-conciousness. What can I say, it's my backround as a poet coming out.

It's not the first time.

Carolyn Julian's wide, expectant eyes. She is feeling puckish. (Watching you two, is like being at prom.) The room has gone heavy. Sprig of mistletoe, and warm, warm breath. Close. Closer. (Light rain. Damp skin. Disheveled hair.)

Before this, he had told her, "I'll talk to Carolyn." (He had told her, I think I'm going to kiss you.)

Then mouth. Her hands tugging at his suit jacket. He should be worried that this is his most expensive blazer, but the thought barely crosses his mind. Taste of winterfresh gum. (Taste of tequila.) One steamboat, two steamboats—(this is going somewhere.)

Breathless. (Breathless.)

Not the first time, and her mouth is familiar. Still soft. Still insistant. Her skin smells like coconut. (her skin smells like fresh grass, and jasmine.) Mouth partly open. (Mouth completely open, promising him something.)

This is like—just after he's made a great shot on the pool table, before the ball sinks. Anticipation, pulse thudding in his neck. He knows. (Pool Hall sign glinting above him, beckoning, but he goes home.)

And then it's over. (All over.) Brennan says it's like kissing her brother. He hardly bats an eye.

They look at each other. (Four years.)

He feels like they're crashing into each other now, past and present--jumbled, jumbled, jumbled. (Four years.)

Four years, and it feels like coming home.

He remembers.