For once, the world had slowed down.

No briefings. No radios crackling in his ear. No weight of command pressing between his shoulders. Just a rare stretch of leave, hard-earned and even harder to believe, carved out between missions that never seemed to end. John had taken it without hesitation, taken you with him just as easily, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Dinner had been quiet in the best way. Candlelight, low music, plates cleared while conversation drifted instead of rushed. John listened more than he spoke, the lines of command easing from his face as the night went on. He looked lighter like this, older maybe, but softer around the edges. Content.

Afterward, he led you out into the cold night air, the city humming but not overwhelming, the sky wide and open above you. The crowd was smaller here, tucked away from the noise, people gathered with coats and laughter and the quiet anticipation of something about to begin.

John stood beside you, then shifted closer without thinking, his arm coming around your shoulders in a familiar, grounding weight. He pulled you in against his chest, chin dipping slightly as if to shield you from the cold. You fit there easily, like you always had.

He watched the sky at first, then glanced down at you, the corner of his mouth lifting just a touch. Not a grin. Something warmer. Something meant only for you.

The countdown began somewhere behind you, voices rising together, numbers echoing through the night. John’s hand tightened slightly at your shoulder, steady, protective, affectionate all at once.

When the fireworks finally burst overhead, the sky exploded into color. Gold and red and white scattered across the darkness, reflected in glass and water and wide, smiling eyes. The sound rolled through your chest, deep and thunderous.

John didn’t look away from you this time.

He leaned in, forehead resting briefly against yours, voice low and calm beneath the noise. “Happy New Year, love.”

His arm held you close as the fireworks continued to bloom above, the future uncertain as always but, for this moment, safe. Quiet. Shared.