I wrote this for the kink meme. The request was based off of this article, about illegal fireworks in Italy on New Years. The relevant quote is "Preventive action by police against illegal fireworks will continue until the end of the year, when the traditional New Year's fireworks mayhem regularly results in burns and mutilations. Naples is usually the worst-hit city, recording the highest number of injuries. Women in Naples got so fed up with their menfolk last year that they launched a 'no sex if you let off fireworks' drive.
The operation had some success as the number of injuries dropped by about 100 to 382."

Quick note – In Italy, New Year celebrations include throwing old things out the window, dancing, watching fireworks, and watching the first sunrise of the year. And, they wear red underwear. In Spain, at the stroke of midnight, they eat twelve grapes, for luck.

Warnings: Lovi's mouth, implied "things"...

Those below the third-story window probably thought that the inhabitants of the apartment were starting celebrations early. That is, until they saw the box that was dropped unceremoniously on their heads was full of illegal fireworks. After which they thanked their lucky stars and grabbed it to take home for use in… about an hour, actually. It was eleven at night on New Years' Eve.

Thank fully, most of the lucky fireworks-confiscators did not stick around to hear what was filtering through that open window.

"- and I said to throw it out, bastardo! So don't give me that fucking puppy-dog look and throw the rest of that shit away!"

"But Lovi~~~"

"NO!"

Inside the upper-class Naples apartment, a small tableaux was frozen in front of living room window. Romano Vargas was standing in front of the open casement, absolutely seething, so upset he was actually having trouble breathing. His features were bright red in the glow from the lamps in the room. Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo was kneeling on the floor, arms protectively clutching a small wooden crate. He was whining.

"Lovi, its New Year's Eve! Its tradition!"

"Its also fucking illegal, idiota. Or haven't you been paying attention."

Antonio snorted. "So? You do plenty of things that are illegal."

"Name one."

"Mmm the way that you make love ought to be illegal."

"GAH! V-vecchio schifoso! Cacasentenze!

Romano threw himself at Antonio and was proceeding to smack him with an open hand, trying to wrest the crate away from him. Inside were small paper packets of varying sizes, un-marked. But Antonio knew what they were – fireworks. Yao's best invention and Romano's best tradition. Even though the ones he had were large and dangerous and most definitely illegal and were in danger of being thrown out the window.

Antonio had now curled himself protectively around the box, whining at Romano's harsh treatment of him and his prize.

"Aww, Lovi! Don't take it away from me! At midnight, we can set of fireworks and eat grapes and dance until morning and then have the first sex of the year and it will be wonderful! Besides, if you take this away from me, I still know where to get more!"

And suddenly Romano was far away from Antonio, hands to himself, giving the man plenty of personal space. Antonio blinked, warily uncurling himself. "Lovi…? Does that mean that I can keep them?"

"No! Absolutely not, ceffo!" Romano growled, stamping his foot. "I just…why can't you…"

Antonio cocked his head, staring at Romano with wide green eyes. He really, really wanted to set of fireworks. He had a reputation to uphold, after all! Last year's display in the backyard was so great and the kids had loved it, until… "Why can't I what, carino?"

Romano took a breath and shut his eyes, lips moving in what may have been a prayer, may have been him counting to ten. In any case, after a long moment, he opened them again, determination sparking in his gaze.

"If you do not throw away those fireworks this instant, I withhold sex. Indefinitely."

Antonio's eyes grew even wider. His body went limp, and he released his arms from around the crate. "Querido, you cannot possibly –"

"I do. Throw them away. Now."

And Antonio had to obey. He stared at Romano with the saddest, most pathetic expression, amazed that his lover could be so heartless and cruel on New Years, of all nights.

"Fine…" he mumbled dejectedly, picking up the crate and heading toward the door. He turned to look over his shoulder. Romano was standing rigidly by the window, a hard glare still in his gaze. Antonio opened the door, and looked around again. No change. He turned back and shuffled down the hallway, lugging the crate down the stairs and outside to the dumpster in the alley.

As he regretfully set down his prize, he felt a tug at his sleeve. Carlotta, one of the children who lived down the hall from their apartment, was staring up at him with a gap-toothed smile, her curly brown hair bouncing around her face.

"Are those for tonight?" she asked excitedly. "It was really really fun last year, especially those red and blue and green ones that went whizz! And the big orange ones, too, and the sparklers!"

She was talking so fast that Antonio had no chance to reply; he didn't really want to, anyway, didn't want to upset her or her friends by telling them the show was off tonight.

"And last year how it all ended with a whole bunch going off at the same time! It was so neat, until it caught the grass on fire – but then it got scary… I mean, the ambulance was cool and stuff but mama kept looking like she was going to cry and saying your burns looked bad and she wouldn't let me see for myself and then Mr. Lovi really did cry and then the ambulance drove off. But you came back all fine the next day, huh? Except we couldn't hug you for a long time."

Antonio smiled, laughing. "Yeah, and I got a really cool scar, right?"

"Right!" agreed Carlotta.

"You wanna see it?"

"Can I?"

Antonio nodded and lifted his shirt. His chest was covered in small nicks and scars; souvenirs of his life – wars against Arthur, against Francis, against Roderich – but covering the entire right side of his stomach, from his ribs to his hips, was a long, round mass of mottled brown and pink. Carlotta reached out a finger and poked it, and Antonio let her. It didn't hurt anymore.

"So… what are you gonna do tonight?" she asked.

Antonio sighed. "I'm sorry, I guess we can't do it this year. Mr. Lovi said so."

"What?" the girl asked in disbelief. "But… but… but why do you have to listen to what Mr. Lovi says? He's not your mom!"

Antonio smiled. "Um… yes, but… he can be very…persuasive."

Carlotta looked at him in confusion.

"Well, he threatened to take away... er… something very important to me…"

"Like when mom says that I can't watch TV for a week if my room is messy?"

"Yes. Just like that. I can't… watch TV… for a very long time if I don't throw away the fireworks."

Carlotta sighed. "Okay. I guess I understand. I want you to be able to watch TV. And I suppose I understand why Mr. Lovi said that, too. I mean, he was really scared last year."

"Was he?" Antonio barely remembered the experience. All he knew was the finale went wrong – he was supposed to set of a lot of fireworks at the same time and they all started sparking and let the very biggest one on fire, and when it set off somehow it got knocked over and hit him in the side and exploded. It had hurt a lot and he was drifting in and out of consciousness as the ambulance took him to the hospital. But when he had woken up Romano had slapped him and walked out of the room.

Carlotta nodded seriously. "He was crying and saying bad words and shaking really hard."

Antonio frowned. Oh. So that was why Lovi had made him throw away the fireworks. He hadn't realized he had been so upset.

"Well, you can still watch the display that the city puts on," Antonio consoled distractedly. "Its starting pretty soon – its almost midnight. Umm…I have to go upstairs and find mi amor – um, Mr. Lovi, now, so … so Felice anno nuovo!"

He vaguely heard the little girl reply to him, but he was already halfway up the stairs. He burst into the apartment, seeing Romano curled up on the wide window-sill, the panes of glass now closed, as he stared at the moon outside. The lights were off in the apartment, but in the moonlight Antonio could tell that Romano was frowning deeply.

"Er… Lovi? They're gone."

Romano turned to face Antonio, scowl seeming to soften and harden at the same time. "Good. Those things are dangerous."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I forgot about what happened last year."

Romano looked surprised at the admission. "W-what happened last year?" he tried to ask, trying to pretend to be oblivious, but Antonio wrapped his arms around him, dragging him off the windowsill and into his grasp as Romano's words trailed off into a squawk.

"Lo siento, Lovi," he mumbled into the Italian's hair. "We'll do something else. We'll go dancing."

Romano grumbled something unintelligible, sneaking one hand under Antonio's shirt to brush gently at the burn marks on his skin. He buried his face into Antonio's chest, breathing deeply. Antonio let him, kissing his scalp gently. Sometimes he was just so cute!

"Yeah, idiot, we'll dance – hey! What the hell are you doing, vecchio schifoso?"

Antonio had set him on the couch and was now kneeling above him and was attempting to unbutton his pants. "Its almost midnight."

"Why in the hell does that fucking matter?"

"I'm just checking to see if you're wearing red underwear~~"