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Wembley nearly tripped over a rock for the fifth time this trip. He and the rest of his friends were going up to the portal to outer space, and, in his half-asleep daze, Wembley was not the best navigator. He’s never been up this late before, he’s gotta get his act together before midnight, whenever that is.
Nearly a year ago, Uncle Matt sent them a postcard documenting his experiences on New Year’s Day, one detail being that the silly creatures seemed to enjoy kissing at midnight, among other things. He mentioned something called “wine”, and a big ball dropping to the floor, but the kissing is what got Wembley’s attention. For some reason, he felt like that was something to keep an eye on.
Now, a year later, he begged Gobo to take the rest of them up to the portal. The only way they’ll be able to tell when it’s midnight is if they listen to Doc count down. And Wembley’s gonna take his chance. He was terrified, but he wanted to do this. It was all a matter of if Boober wanted to as well.
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Boober, in fact, did want to kiss Wembley. He thought about it a lot, in fact. Sometimes he’d catch himself staring at his lips, and thank some otherworldly entity Wembley couldn’t see his eyes. He wanted to take this opportunity too, but he was afraid. What if Wembley thought it was weird? What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he did and it didn’t work out? His feelings being mutual felt too good to be true, but he wanted it to be true, and- oh, they’re at the portal.
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Wembley fidgeted with his hands as he listened to the inventor. “Oh, Sprocket, can you believe it? It’s the New Year! In just two minutes, we’ll have a clean slate! A fresh palette! Do you have your resolutions ready?”, and the sheepdog barked affirmatively. What in the world are resolutions?
Wembley looked to the side, and couldn’t help but notice Boober standing closer than usual, his lucky walking stick in tow. He turned further, seeing how little Gobo seemed to care, and how much attention Mokey was paying. She and Red were holding hands. They’ve both obviously been looking forward to this, mostly Mokey, always jumping at the opportunity for romance.
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Boober couldn’t handle the anticipation for the life of him. He prayed the hairy beast didn’t approach the hole, fearing he might sneeze. He prayed that Gobo wasn’t watching them, and that the silly creature will count down like they expected, and that Wembley will say yes when he’d ask if he can kiss him.
And then it started. “Alright Sprocky, it’s time!”
And slowly, he began to count from 8.
Boober jolted when Wembley turned to him, clearly trying to say something.
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And Wembley was shocked when Boober beat him to it, walking stick clutched to his body like his life depended on it.
Doc counted to 5.
“Wembley, uh- can, can- I- um, would it be okay if— if I kissed you?”
He counted to 3.
Wembley didn’t know what to say, and luckily he didn’t have to. As the clock struck midnight, Wembley grabbed Boobers scarf, and pulled him close, kissing him.
Wembley could hear Boober’s tail start to glow, probably getting Gobo’s attention in the process, but that didn’t really matter right now. He felt Boober’s tensity melt away slowly as he rested his hands on Wembley’s shirt.
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On the way home, Boober could not stop thinking about what happened. Wembley actively wanted to kiss him. Did he want a relationship too? He was afraid to ask in front of everybody else, so he waited. “Hey, Wembley, can I talk to you in my cave for a second?” The yellow Fraggle lit up.
And at his cave, he asked.
“What was that for?”
“I wanted to kiss you! It’s the whole reason I asked Gobo to take us. I was gonna ask you if I could kiss you, actually! I didn’t think you’d ask first… but I’m glad you did.” And he smiled that warm smile that made everything better.
“… so, what does that mean for us? I wouldn’t— I wouldn’t mind being more than friends, if that’s what you want too.”
He fidgeted with the ribbon hanging off his walking stick.
Wembley smiled even wider, his eyes hopeful. “Yes! Yes, I’d love that! I’ve been wanting that for so long!” He seemed to realize something, mellowing out and grabbing both of Boober’s hands.
“I’m so happy, Boober, how long have you felt like this?”
Boober froze up.
“… years, I guess? I’m not quite sure, but i hope this has been a long time coming for the both of us..”
He smiled a little, a rare sight.
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They chatted about this and that, holding hands and entwining tails. Wembley yawned.
“Can I stay here for the night? I’m too tired to head home, and Gobo knows where I am, so I don’t think he’ll be too worried.”
Boober nodded, crawling into bed. “I’m tired too, it’s late. Let’s get some rest, I have laundry to do in the morning.”
Wembley curled up next to him. This wasn’t new, they’ve shared a bed before, but it felt different now. Warmer.
“Goodnight, Wembley.”
“Night, Boober!”