Valentine's Day Snippets

Dr. Mortum. Yasmin.

"I can't believe this." Yasmin's laugh is a pearly river, and Dr. Mortum can't help but turn and stare. She's beautiful in all the ways that don't belong here, a rose in a beaker able to survive the acid. "You're going to spend Valentine's Day locked in your lab eating reheated pizza?"

"Yes?" he answers, acutely aware of his stained lab coat while she smelled like she had just stepped out of the shower. 

"No," she corrects, placing a finger against his lips, and he fights against the urge to kiss it. "We are."

"We are?" He blinks, trying to catch up. "I thought you were going to order me into the shower and drag me to a restaurant."

"You're working on something, aren't you?"

"I am," he admits. "I hadn't even thought about what day it is."

"So we're staying in. I'll get some better takeaway while you're finishing up whatever you're soldering, and then maybe we can take that shower. Together."

Not for the first time, Dr. Mortum wonders what he has done to deserve this. He can't call himself a believer in Karma, but at this point, he's reached the conclusion that his past life must have been one hell of a man.

Certainly a better one than he currently is.

---

Daniel. Chris.

"This is the dorkiest thing yet." Chris shakes their head, staring down at the tartan blanket. "A picnic?"

"Last time we went out, you complained of a headache the whole time," Daniel says, opening the basket. They were far enough away from everything that nobody would disturb them. Far enough away that even Chris's shoulders relaxed a notch. Did they even notice how tense they had become?

"Maybe you were the cause," they tease but sits down on the blanket all the same.

"I'm trying to keep my thoughts to myself, you know that." Ever since he realized that maybe they were hurting. That people could be too much. Too close. Too intense. 

"Not many people here, flyboy," Chris replies, and Daniel knew he had failed to guard his thoughts. Again. "And you're getting better. It's just quiet enough out here to hear a whisper."

"I thought you might need a break from people." He kept unpacking the food, trying not to notice how Chris reached for a beer first of all. "Besides, everything good is always booked on Valentine's day."

"Is this a romance thing?" The sneer might be called a smile if you were generous, and Daniel liked to think that he was. 

"It doesn't have to be," he starts, reaching over to pick up the plates when he suddenly found himself face to face with something red. Unexpected. He blinks, eyes focusing on the single rose hovering an inch in front of his face. "Oh."

"Wasn't about to stuff a bouquet in my coat," Chris looks as pleased with themself as if they had knocked Daniel flat in training. "So a single rose will have to do."

"What." Daniel didn't know what to say, the heat rising on his face entirely uncalled for. "I didn't think..."

"... I could be smooth?" Chris fills in, too satisfied with the reaction to hide it. "Get used to being surprised."

Daniel accepts the rose, trying desperately not to hover. No matter how close he got to them, he couldn't begin to predict what would happen next. Sidestep might be retired, but Chris was still one step ahead.

Not that he minded. Not at all.

---

Chen. Cyrus.

"Are you sure you don't want to do anything?" Chen knows he shouldn't be surprised, but it still felt like something that should be asked.

"I'm not exactly Mr. Romantic," Cyrus admits. "This whole relationship thing is hard. You're the one with experience."

"It's been decades since I had someone I wanted to spoil for Valentine's Day. I'm not exactly Ortega."

"One of your better qualities." A thoughtful huff, as if he wasn't sure how to continue. "I just don't know how to deal with this."

"This?"

"You. Me. Having a thing. What would you do if I wasn't here?" The innocence of Cyrus' question tore a laugh from Chen.

"Oh, you really don't want to know."

"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't." His eyes narrow. "And now you're making me curious."

"Probably would have ended up downtown just in case there were any other disappointed singles open to forgetting what a day it was." Chen was proud of both of them. Cyrus for not snooping because the way his cheeks colored spoke of true surprise. And himself for keeping a straight face through it all.

"Huh." There was a small twitch to Cyrus' mouth, which might have been a smile. "I really didn't know you at all, did I?"

"Most people still don't," Chen admits. "There's certain parts of my life I like to keep separate from work."

"You're not working now," there is the smile, the real one. "And you're not a disappointed single anymore."

"Looks like I have no reason to leave the apartment then," Chen retorts with a straight face. "Do you?"

"Hell no," comes the enthusiastic reply.

Looks like they'd better feed Spoon the good food and hope he goes to sleep fast.

---

Angie. Cynthia.

"I thought we were going to have a Valentine's movie night?" Cynthia sounds disappointed, which Argent suspects might be faked.

"There are no good Valentine's Day movies," she admits reluctantly. "Even the horror ones are... unimaginative." Something about that day brought out the worst in creatives, and she didn't know why.

"Oh? So the Friday the 13th ones are good?" Cynthia puts down the bags on the living room table, the smell of freshly baked goods impossible to miss. "Could have fooled me."

"Some are." Argent starts unpacking the bags, putting the contents on plates, arranging them nicely. Not dinner this time, just desert and snacks. Less official. "But don't you dare to pick on the Christmas movies; there are some real gems there."

"Black Christmas wasn't bad, I suppose," Cynthia's breath quickens, and the last bag feels odd in Argent's hand.

"What's this?" She pulls out a videotape, old-school, well worn, an ex-rental and... "Oh no. Oh no, you didn't."

"You better believe I did." Cynthia sounds as pleased as if she'd just robbed another bank. "For you."

"A Shocking Valentine..." She eyes the lurid cover; it's not the real Julia, obviously, but close enough that the producer had been sued and the movie pulled from the market, the contents had been... spicy and controversial. "I didn't think there were any copies left out there; the collector's price is through the roof."

"You're dating the best thief in Los Diablos, and don't you forget it." Cynthia chuckles. "Let's see what's all the fuss is about. Isn't this one supposed to have real tits?"

"Not sure if 'real' is the word you're looking for here." She could feel her cheeks getting warm. It was a stupid, indulgent, thoughtful gift. "But let's see how they measure up to Julia's."

That was something they both could appreciate, after all.

---

Julia. Cyrus.

"I'm trusting you here," Julia cautions, leaning back on the kitchen chair. "Please don't break my kitchen."

"I won't." Cyrus stands awkward at the stove, the borrowed apron making him look even more out of place than he usually did. "It was an accident last time. And it was years ago."

"I know," she admits, smiling softly at his back when he has turned away to start cutting onions. "Do you mind?"

"Mind what? Cooking dinner for you?" He always got more talkative when they weren't looking at each other. "You don't have a date for Valentine's, do you? I don't want you to spend the day alone."

"Thank you." Oh boy, that wasn't the answer she had expected, to a question she hadn't asked. "You're a good friend."

"I try to be." A small sound that might have been a laugh or a huff.

"I was..." why is it so hard to talk all of a sudden? "I was actually talking about me teasing you before. I know I can be an ass." Perhaps not a better subject but safer. "I don't know how you put up with me at times."

"You're not as bad as you think." The sound of frying almost drowns the whispered words. "And I probably deserve it. Most of the time."

"You don't," she snaps, on her feet now because sitting down has never been her thing. She needs to keep busy. "You know that, right?"

"Sure," he says in that particular way that he had where she knows he disagrees with her all the same.

"Move over," she elbows him lightly, warm body, real in a way that his ghost had never been. "Let me help."

"You'll get your clothes dirty," he protests but makes room all the same.

"I'll chop, you fry, deal?" She places her hand over his until he lets go of the knife, reluctantly. 

"Deal," he agrees, slightly breathless.

"That's what I like to hear," she grabs a chile pepper, her arm brushing his. "We're a team, aren't we? We work better together."

"Just remove the seeds," he cautions but doesn't move away. The kitchen wasn't large enough that they had much room. "We want the flavor, not all the heat."

"Chicken," she teases. "Why don't you live a little?"

Maybe that went for both of them. When was the last time she had this much fun on Valentine's Day?

At this point, she couldn't even remember.

---

Dr. Mortum. Chris.

Everything is new. Everything is fragile. A smile that won't fit quite right. The voice of a stranger. Eyes that avoid contact.

She could work with that. She's Dr. Mortum; doing the impossible is what she's known for. This can't be that different, just a new kind of chemistry. All she needs to do is find the right catalyst.

"This was a bad idea." Shoulders forward. Making themselves smaller. So unlike... no. Better not think of Eden right now. It's Chris.

"We've both had worse ones." The words are out of her mouth before she has time to plan them, the slight headache of the Numbers feeling very much like intoxication. "Please."

"You know, at this point, I would do pretty much whatever you ask. No need to say please." Guilt? Well-deserved? Maybe, but they both had enough of that as well.

"It's dinner," she says, and this time the smile sticks. "A chance to get to know each other once more."

"On Valentine's Day. Is that supposed to mean anything?" Chris does look at her then, a suspicious look, as if this was a trap. Maybe it is.

"I don't know," Dr. Mortum admits, looking for gestures she remembers, the ghost of someone else in a stranger's body. "Maybe it doesn't. Maybe it will."

"Things really have changed," and there is an echo there, the teasing look, the shadow of Eden's smile. "You admitting you don't know something."

"Well," she chuckles, and it's as real as it gets. "I've had to reevaluate a lot lately. As have you, I think."

"I guess there are limits to how many times I can apologize."

"Regret is not a flattering look." 

"Neither is this one." Chris gestures to their scarred face. "Compared to what you're used to, this is a downgrade. I mean..."

"Don't," Dr. Mortum snaps, pulling her temper back before it gets out of control. "Can't we just treat this as something new? Pretend there's no baggage here for one evening? One dinner?"

"You're the aggrieved party here. You make the rules."

"Oh, I think after... well... the scales are a bit more even now." She wasn't proud of what she had done, even if she had reasons for it. That went for both of them, she supposed. Reasonable actions could still hurt.

"You asked me out then. You make the rules." There's a hint of something in Chris's eyes, but at least they are looking at her. Fear? Of making the wrong decision? Of ruining this once more?

"On Valentine's Day." Take charge. Not something she's used to. Eden was usually the one pulling the strings. "I wouldn't have done this if I didn't want it to mean something."

"To a proper dinner even. How many badly heated pizza slices did you subject me to back then? Should I be envious of myself?"

"I kept expecting you to leave," she admits, to both of them at the same time, because these are things she doesn't like dwelling on. "If I didn't make a production out of our relationship, it would hurt less when it fell apart."

"But you made such a production of things at the start. The flirting, the nicknames..."

"You know that was an act. A mask. Just like..."

"Not exactly."

"No. Not exactly. But close enough."

"Will this be?" Chris rubs their forehead. "Close enough?"

"It doesn't need to be," Dr. Mortum admits, to herself most of all. "Things have changed; there's no turning back time. What I'm interested in is what comes next."

For both of them.