The Fourth of July was usually a chaotic mess of cheerful shouts and too many distant firecrackers, but tonight, even the rigid structure of the base seemed to bend a little for the celebration. You found yourself, somewhat begrudgingly, amidst the mingling soldiers, a paper plate of lukewarm barbecue doing little to ignite your enthusiasm. Then, as if on cue, Jonas materialized beside you, a devilish glint in his eye.

"Sergeant," he purred, a casual lean against the railing of the viewing platform, his voice a low rumble designed to get under your skin. "Figured you'd be hiding in your quarters, avoiding the 'civilians' as you call them. Missing all this excitement?"

You merely grunted, your gaze fixed on the deepening twilight. "Someone has to maintain a semblance of order, Lieutenant. Unlike some."

He chuckled, a warm, easy sound that sent a shiver down your spine despite yourself. "And here I thought I was that someone. Come on, a little holiday spirit wouldn't kill you, you know. Or are you afraid it'll crack that perfectly polished exterior?" He winked, a gesture that was both playful and undeniably provocative.

The first rocket shot into the sky, bursting into a shimmering peony of red and gold. The crowd collectively "ooh-ed," but your attention was snagged by Jonas. More followed, painting the night with brilliant, ephemeral strokes. You watched, your usual guard slightly lowered by the sheer spectacle, almost forgetting he was there. Almost.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Jonas's voice was closer now, his shoulder brushing yours. The scent of his cologne, a clean, subtle musk, was dangerously close, too close.

"It's... efficient," you conceded, a flicker of something almost like awe betraying your usual composure.

He laughed softly, the sound a low vibration against your arm. "Efficient. Only you, Sergeant. Most people call it beautiful. But then again, you have a way of making even the mundane fascinating." His gaze, usually sharp, softened as he looked at you, a lingering warmth in his eyes.

A particularly loud series of explosions boomed overhead, showering down a cascade of sparkling white. The light caught his face, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes as he watched the sky. Then, his gaze shifted, finding yours in the fleeting illumination. It was intense, unyielding.

"You know," Jonas began, his voice dropping, barely audible above the lingering crackle of the fireworks, "for someone so stoic, you have an incredible way of making a man want to see what's beneath the surface. And I've always been one for a good challenge."

The air between you thickened, charged with the energy of the fireworks and something else entirely. Your breath hitched, just for a moment. His eyes, usually playful, were searing now, searching, as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. He leaned in, slowly, his gaze fixed on your lips, a silent invitation in his eyes. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, the subtle pull drawing you closer. The sounds of the celebration faded into a distant hum, the world narrowing to just the two of you, the thrum of anticipation building between you. His lips were mere inches from yours, and for a split second, you were utterly, dangerously ready to bridge that gap.

Then, with a deafening whistle and a blinding flash, the grand finale erupted directly overhead, a simultaneous explosion of every color imaginable. The force of it made the ground tremble beneath your feet. The sudden, overwhelming burst of light and sound shattered the intimate moment, ripping you both back to reality.