Disclaimer: I don't own 'Waking the Dead' or any of its characters, the BBC has that honour – I'm just taking them out to play for a bit.

Pairing: Boyd/Grace.

Rating: T.

Spoilers: Nothing specific.

Words: 908.

A/N: My response to the FB challenge: 1000 words max, must contain the words "green", "lamp", "north" and "gnome", and no smut. I apologise in advance – this is pure fluff and nothing more! I also very rarely write in the present tense so I hope this works. Thanks for reading :)

Peter Boyd frowns irritably and pulls his thick woollen coat tighter about his broad frame as he edges closer towards the crackling fire. The flight had been plagued by turbulence and fractious children and, coupled with the incompetent confusion over his rental car booking, Boyd had found his mood deteriorating steadily with every mile he travelled north of London, the omnipresent black cloud darkening uncontrollably despite the determined efforts of his companion.

At his side, Grace Foley shivers, sighing as she registers the deepening gloom emanating from every pore of his body, and she drops her cheek to his shoulder, gratification filling her as she feels him fractionally relax.

"You can't deny this is romantic," she breathes softly, a smile spreading across her features at his reactionary groan.

"I can think of a dozen things that would have been more so," he replies sardonically, "and none of them involved travelling nearly six hundred miles into the frozen bloody back of beyond."

She rolls her sapphire eyes. "Loch Ness is hardly the back of beyond, Boyd."

"Well, it might as well be."

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I've lost it to frostbite."

"Oh, don't be so bloody melodramatic. The guide says it shouldn't be long now anyway."

He bites back a petulant reply, unable to prevent a small smile from playing across his lips as she nuzzles warmly against him, encouraging him to wrap his arm about her waist and draw her still closer towards his body, and he feels the ice that grips his consciousness suddenly begin to thaw. Around them, other people are sat similarly huddled, their bodies wrapped snugly against the stinging winter air, a sense of expectation pervading the atmosphere even as the temperature continues to fall.

He glances down as he feels her shift slightly against him, his heart softening further as he watches the shadows dance across her delicate features, a combination of diffuse light from the fire and the oil lamp at her side, and he brings his lips to her hair, his chest awash with sentimentality.

"So, come on, then," he intones gently, after several indulgent moments have passed. "What exactly is it that I'm supposed to be looking out for?"

Grace raises her head to look at him incredulously. "Are you being serious?"

"Enlighten me, Grace."

"It's the Aurora Borealis, Boyd…."

"Right…but is it a few green flashes in the sky or…?"

"Or are you about to get your mind blown?"

He raises an eyebrow. "You didn't need to bring me all the way up here to do that."

Grace rolls her eyes good naturedly and ignores him. "It's apparently going to be spectacular."

"Are we still talking about the light show?"

"Yes. Completely and exclusively."

He laughs loudly, tugging firmly at her waist to pull her to the ground with him, their backs connecting at once with the soft blankets atop the tundra, their limbs tangling briefly before he tucks her back beneath the comfort of his arm.

"Better vantage point?" she asks wryly, amusement lacing her tone as he gives a deep chuckle, the sound reverberating through the bones of his chest.

"We're looking at the sky, Grace, aren't we? It stands to reason we should be flat on our backs."

"Just don't get any ideas."

"It's not like we're here alone, more's the pity. Though I don't think the bloke who resembles a garden gnome would complain, he looks like the type who'd get his rocks off watching while…."

"Oh, honestly; could you possibly throw some more stereotypes into that ridiculously presumptuous statement?"

Boyd feigns a yawn. "Too many long words, Grace. I thought we were supposed to be on holiday?"

"So stop trying to wind me up, then, and keep your unfounded opinions to yourself."

He pulls her infinitesimally closer and presses a kiss to the top of her head. "You wouldn't have this any other way and you know it."

"Right. This is exactly how I pictured such a dream-come-true moment in my life; complete with bickering and moaning at every turn."

He grins, his eyes flickering skyward as he catches the first glimpse of an emerald arc across the heavens. "Grace…."

"I mean, would it kill you for once to…."

"Grace, look up, for God's sake, will you?"

She is rendered immediately speechless as she obeys, their sniping instantly forgotten, her mouth falling open as her eyes absorb the phenomenon beginning to emblazon across the blackness, a dazzling array of colours streaking and ribboning against the tranquil backdrop of obsidian ink.

"Beautiful," she breathes reverently after several blissful moments have passed, an expression of unbridled joy radiating from every fibre of her being as her eyes traverse the heavens in awe, the ethereal colours which streak the sky flickering delicate patterns across her skin.

She is captivating in her child-like wonderment, breath-taking in her unrestrained elation. She is utterly intoxicating and he is suddenly, greedily drunk on the sensory overload, the essence of her soul so clearly laid bare before his eyes.

"Yeah," he agrees tenderly, though he is in no way referring to the celestial display and he smiles spectacularly as she catches the undertone, nature's glory continuing to blister above them as her lips melt exquisitely into his, their hearts intertwining as their universe once more contracts in blissful, rapturous exclusion.

FIN