#feb 14th

Valentine's Day: A day that neither of them had considered they would get the opportunity to celebrate before. Especially not with their lives currently.

Leon tries to play it off like he thinks it's stupid—a capitalist's holiday with no rhyme or reason. But, deep down, he's a romantic. He wants to spoil someone, and be spoiled.

And for Claire, she just plain pretends it doesn't exist.

Until this year, anyways. Over the past six months, Leon and Claire have been dating. Their relationship has been somewhat slow moving, and tentative—both of them trying to find their way around each other, and learn what makes each other happy. Both of them uncertain being in a relationship after so long not being in any.

Ultimately though, despite every reservation and blip, they've never been happier. There's a comfort that comes with being someone who understands you so deeply.

Claire's been feeling a bit under the weather lately, for a few days before Valentine's. Her chronic illnesses casting a sharp shadow over her, and causing her to feel downright awful. While not away on trips for TerraSave, and after frequent bouts of overdoing it, she tends to get hit with an awful fit of migraines and joint pain. Not wanting to get out of bed, when overtaken by said fits.

She isn't expecting to hear a soft knock at her apartment door. Not quite sure she's heard it until it comes a second time. She groans, her vision blurring from the pounding behind her eyes, and presses a palm to her forehead. Rubbing her temple a bit, before standing, and going towards the door.

She pulls it open, and on the other side is Leon. He smiles widely when he sees her on the other side, though it quickly pulls down. "Hey, angel, sorry for…dropping in unannounced. You still not feeling good?"

"No, not really," she shakes her head, practically clinging onto the doorway. "Come in."

He comes through the doorway, and she shuts the door behind him. She can see he has a small bag in one hand and a medium sized container in another. He follows her as she walks over to the couch, sitting down beside her.

"I'm sorry you're still not feeling well, is there anything I can do?" He frowns, placing the bag and container on the coffee table in front of them.

Another small shake of her head. "No, sweetheart, thank you though. I'm sorry I wasn't able to go out with you today, I know we had things planned…I feel guilty that we couldn't make that dinner."

"Hey…no…don't feel guilty. I know you're having a hard time, we can do it another day. Trust me, all I care about is you," he jumps to assure her. Reaching out to gently grab her hands. He nods at the medium sized container on the table in front of them. "I, uh, I tried to make you some of the pasta you love so much. The baked ziti with the cheeses, and made a side of some vegetables. It's not much, I know, but I hope you like it."

She smiles weakly, squeezing his hands. "Thank you, I'm sure I'll enjoy it. I'm just a bit nauseous right now, so I'll have it in a bit. What's, um…in the bag?"

"Oh," he pulls his hands back to grab the pink paper bag on the table. She notices his hands trembling ever-so-slightly as he hands it to her. "It's two things. A card I made, and something that I think…or hope you'll like."

"What-" she pauses mid-question. "It's Valentine's Day. Shit, baby, I'm really sorry now. It completely slipped my brain. I've got something for you too, just gotta get up and get it."

His eyes widen as he sees her start to stand, and he grabs ahold of her wrist. "W-wait. Wait. Sit down for a second, I can tell you're dizzy, and in pain. Just open mine first, please? Then I can help you up to grab what you got for me."

She sighs, sitting back down, and looking at the bag in her hands. She pulls the tissue paper from the bag, and sets it aside. Inside there's a small handmade card, a small little red plush dragon (she's surprised he remembers her love of mythical creatures), and a jewelry box. Her heart warms at the thought that he's put into the gift, and she hasn't even read the card or opened the jewelry box yet. She pulls the stuffed dragon from the bag, and laughs softly—clutching it to her chest. "You remembered."

He flushes a pretty shade of pink, and clears his throat. "I do listen to what you say most of the time, believe it or not."

She sets the small dragon aside, and reaches for the jewelry box next. She flips the top open, and a quiet gasp is pulled from her lips. A beautiful necklace lays inside. It's a silver necklace, the pendant is in the shape of the moon. She had once equated the two of them to being the sun and moon, and explained how they would be the complete opposite of what people would think they are. Him the sun, and her the moon. She remembers saying that he's bright, and beautiful, and burning far too fast—that nobody could be in his shadow, just like the sun. She's surprised he remembers her saying that. The briefest light flickering in from the curtains catches and causes the small diamonds encrusted in the necklace to shimmer.

"It's beautiful," she murmurs, her fingers tracing gently over the metal and gems. "Thank you," she leans over and kisses his cheek, then closes the jewelry box and sets it aside. With how close she is to him, she can hear the slightest gulp when she reaches for the card.

There's no envelope, and it's made out of a folded, red piece of cardstock paper. The lettering on the front is a bit bulky, like he couldn't figure out quite how to write it, the words 'Happy Valentine's Day' on the front. She flips it open, her eyes skimming over the words.

It reads:

Angel,

Furthest thing from what I was expecting to do today. Hell, I don't think I've ever done this before period. I'm not good at…this. Feelings. Writing them out. Expressing them. I'm sure you know. I know I'm not always the best partner, or the best person, but I…care about you a lot. I don't know what I'll do without you. And thinking about next Valentine's Day actually has me excited for once. I'm always going to be here if you need me.

Yours,

Leon

"Oh, sweetheart…" she breathes. Unsure of when the lump in her throat had grown unmanageable, or when the tears had formed in her eyes. She places the card aside, wrapping her arms around him.

He relaxes against her, holding her as close as he can without hurting her. He wasn't sure if she'd like it—and, judging by her reaction, she did. She buries her nose in the crook of his neck, sniffling softly. An overwhelming feeling of affection settled in her heart. "You made this for me?"

"Yes. I wasn't sure if you'd like it…" he mumbles uncertainly. "You do…right?"

She pulls back slightly, cradling his face between her hands. "I love it. I…I love you. I've loved you for so long. Even before we got together. You are so incredible, and so important to me. And, I don't think I could've gone any longer without saying it."

"You…what?" He blinks, mouth agape.

"Love you. More than life itself. I know it might be too soon, but…I think about you all the time," she repeats, her voice soft and unsure. Like she's worried he might feel different.

"I love you too," he says all-too-quickly. His eyes scanning her face. "I think about you when I'm at work, even knowing I shouldn't. I think about you when I'm trying to sleep, when I'm cooking dinner, all the time. We've known each other for nearly fifteen years, I had the biggest crush on you for six years after Raccoon, and then we had our argument. But, I never stopped thinking about you after that. I constantly regretted the way I handled things, and the fact that I waited so long to reach out again. I need you in my life."

"I know. I'm sorry for waiting for so long to let you know how I feel, and to patch things up. I think Chris was about five seconds away from calling and asking you out for me himself before we got together," she chuckles, pressing her forehead against his. "God, I think I was driving him crazy."

He lets out a small laugh of his own, partially out of disbelief. "I can't believe someone like you loves me."

"I could say the same thing. Though, we could make this a 'you're too good for me' contest that would just go around in circles, I fear," their noses brush together, and she smiles, capturing his lips in a quick kiss. "I love you."

He hums against her lips, one of his hands moving to rest on one of her thighs, as he deepens the kiss. His tongue passing the seam of her lips, their tongues mingling and dancing together. He could get lost in the way she tastes—the way she feels—it's addicting. He lets out a quiet protest as she pulls back, and chases her as she moves her face away.

"I'll be back, I promise," she covers the hand he has on her thigh briefly, then moves to stand. "Just going to grab what I got you."

He retracts his hand, nodding as he sits back against the couch. His eyes following her as she moves slowly from the room. Part of him itching to stand and help her, but ultimately deciding against it knowing how she would protest.

She returns a few moments later with a jewelry box, blanket, and card in hand. She takes a seat, and hands him the items. He examines the blanket first. "I knitted it myself. Had actually started making it before I even knew we were going to get together. But I hope that it's okay. Had to take a break a few times for a couple days in between because my fingers were locking up."

He smiles, running his hand over the soft, blue yarn. "I like it. It's my favorite color of blue too."

Her cheeks redden, and she mumbles a quiet "thank you." She watches as he sets it aside, and grabs the jewelry box, and flips it open. Relishing in the gasp that's pulled from his lips. It's a watch that she remembers him mentioning a while back, and she's been saving up for it ever since. "I know you could probably go out and buy one like it yourself, but just…I wanted to, okay?"

"Baby, this watch…" He stammers, mouth flopping open and close a bit like a fish out of water.

"Costs a lot, I know. Do you like it?" She raises a brow, trying to steady her tone as not to relay her anxiousness outright.

"I love it. But you didn't have to-"

"I know. I'm aware I didn't have to save up to get it for you, that you could have got it yourself. I'm aware that your tax bracket is vastly different than mine. But, I did this because I wanted to, and because I knew you like it. If you're going to question me, I'll just take it back," she huffs, starting to reach for it.

"No! No, you've got me wrong. I just…I know how different our tax bracket is, and how much this probably set you back. I guess it's just hard to accept that someone would care about me enough to splurge on something like this. But, trust me, I love it. I'll wear it every fucking day," he's quick to stop her, shaking his head vehemently. "Please, sweetheart. I'm sorry for questioning it, I'm just not used to having someone love me. To want to do things for me."

"Oh…okay," she retracts her hands, relaxing a bit. "I'd do almost anything for you. Even if it is spending ridiculous amounts of money on a watch."

"I know," he chuckles fondly. Reaching for the card next. He rips open the envelope as gently as he can, and pulls the card out. It's a cheesy Valentine's Day card, nothing stands out about it. But the message is sweet. He flips it open, and on the inside there's a small handwritten message. He reads through it, a smile etching across his face. He shuts it, and sets it on the coffee table with his other gifts. Then, leans forward to capture her lips once more. More gently this time, when he pulls back he peppers small kisses all over her face—coaxing a giggle from her. "I love you, so much."

She swats at him playfully, but returns the favor. Kissing his cheeks, his forehead, his chin, next to his lips, all over. "I love you too, pretty boy. Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day, angel. Here's to many more," he reaches out to grab one of her hands, lacing his fingers through his. "Now that all that's over, what do you say I heat you that ziti up, and we watch the movie together?"

"Sounds perfect."

"You're perfect."

"You're gross," she wrinkles her nose. "Fix me my pasta, you heathen."

"Alright, alright. Yes ma'am," he gives an over-exaggerated sigh, standing. "You're so bossy."

"And you love it."

"That I do."