Fireworks

Author: SDQ

Author’s Notes: How sad is it that I can’t even go to the fireworks without getting fic inspiration? Very sad, that’s how. Anyways, for those of you who don’t know, Venetian Night is this really cool fireworks display Chicago does (on the 27th this year), where this radio station (101.9 FM The Mix Chicago) synchronizes music with the fireworks display. Actually, there’s more, there’s an air-and-water show, a boat parade, live bands at a music shell, and other stuff.. For more information, try metromix.com.

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Lids/Cheli

I love fireworks. The lights in the sky have always been beautiful to me, sparkling in the darkness. I think it’s the way that every point of lights dissolves into the night; a moment of silence, then another explosion fills the sky with color. Some of the fireworks are flashy, with a boom so loud it rattles windows and screaming bullets of light; some of them are small, tiny cracks and a shower of sparks. Forty years of watching fireworks has not dimmed them for me at all. In fact, every year they seem better. The best thing this year is having the man I love wrapped in my arms.

I got Nick to spend some time here in Chicago with me. Just a few days. An old friend of mine lent me the boat for Venetian Night, and I took it far enough into the lake that no one would bother us. Eventually the sky darkened and the wind picked up.

“Do you know how glad I am you resigned?” he whispers. I shake my head slightly, inhaling the smell of his hair and his soap and his skin.

“So glad,” he continues. “When you told me you were going to test the market, I didn’t even want to think about it.

“You know I wouldn’t go anywhere.”

“You never can tell,” he laughs. I breathe deep and he notices. “What’s up with you? Why are you breathing on me like that?” He sounds a little perturbed.

“Well, no one forced you to come over and lie down in my lap. I’m just breathing, here,” I snicker. “I mean, you just ran over here and flopped down.” He chuckles.

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did, you looked at me with your come-hither eyes. You know you want me, Cheli,” he teases. “You can’t resist me. You know it.”

“Don’t make me hurt you. Come on. We’re in the middle of a big lake, here. I know it better than you do. There have been provoked murders out here,” we banter.

“Not on men by their boyfriends.”

“How would you know? You lived in the Arctic Circle for half your life.”

“What?” he glowers, trying to keep the smile off his face. “As I recall, Vasteras is in southern Sweden. Tomas lived up there with the Lapps.” He grins again. “Have you been cheating on me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Maybe this will remind you,” he says quietly, and before I know what’s going on his lips are on mine, soft and encompassing. His hands are brushing through my hair, softly tucking stray strands back where they belong. They run over my face, brushing dust from below my eyes, tracing along my ears, lightly floating along the line of my chin.

His hands come to rest momentarily on my neck, tracing the line of my collarbone, over my shoulders, and down to my elbow and back. His fingers are sending thrills up and down my spine and if this moment could go on for a thousand years, I wouldn’t have enough of him.

His lips move slowly down to my throat.

“Ah—ah—ah—this should wait, I got a room at the Drake for tonight and I promise, all you want,” I say happily, trying to keep my voice from going up and down the scale. He looks up to me with mock hurt in his blue eyes.

“I came all the way from Sweden for you to deny me? I think not,” he laughs. He stands, rocking the boat a little. The radio is still playing softly in the corner, the fireworks are still exploding, and the wind is still brisk.

There’s a moment of stillness.

“And I couldn’t have that, because I don’t think I could stand to be that far away right now.”