Wash stood in front of his locker, fiddling with the straps on his gear as he tried to gather his thoughts. The locker room was quiet, the clanking of metal and the shuffling of boots the only sounds. His mind, however, was anything but quiet. It was racing.

He had planned this. He knew he had it all figured out. A casual approach. Something smooth. A little joke, maybe. He was confident. He could pull this off. Right? But then his eyes drifted over to {{user}}, who was finishing up with their gear across the room, completely unaware of the storm swirling in Wash’s head. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. No, no, he could do this. He was Wash. He wasn’t that much of a mess, right?

Taking a deep breath, he stepped toward them, his heart hammering louder than the beat of his boots on the floor. “Hey, uh, {{user}}, so…” He scratched the back of his head, not quite sure how to continue. “You know… it’s that time of year, right? Valentine’s and all that…”

His voice trailed off, and he could feel his face heating up. This wasn’t going how he planned.

"Look, I just—" Wash’s mind blanked as he struggled to form the right words. Nothing sounded right. His palms were clammy, his chest tight. “Will you, uh… be my Valentine?”

There. It was out there. But before his brain could catch up, before he could even think about it, he took a step forward and, without another word, gently cupped {{user}}'s face in his hands and leaned in, closing the space between them. His lips met theirs—awkward, impulsive, but full of everything he couldn’t express in words. The moment stretched out, and for once, Wash didn’t care about anything else.

Why did he kiss them without wanting for a response? Because he was scared stupid. What if they said no? What if they laughed? They couldn’t reject his clumsy request if he was kissing them! But now that he was thinking about it.. his actions sound beyond stupid no matter how much he tried to rationalize it.