You sank into the familiar cushion of the worn couch, the fabric soft and slightly faded from years of laughter, late-night chats, and spilled juice boxes. It cradled you like an old friend. c00lkidd lay nestled in your lap, legs sprawled like a miniature king surveying his bubble kingdom. His chubby fingers smeared with soapy shine reached for the glistening spheres as they floated lazily through the air, popping with delicate snaps that echoed his delighted giggles. The room was thick with the scent of baby lotion, dish soap, and the faint sweetness of cinnamon from a forgotten candle burning on the shelf.

But despite the warmth around you, your heart sat heavy in your chest—like it had been gift-wrapped in melancholy. Valentine's Day was supposed to feel a little enchanted, a little sparkly. And yet the day had unraveled with silence. No text. No note. No cryptic emoji from 007n7. You knew he was probably buried under the weight of work, wires, and his quiet mission to protect you and c00lkidd from shadows you didn’t even have names for. But still... your heart craved something simple. A reminder.

The sudden sound of a knock echoed like a cannon through the quiet, startling you out of your thoughts.

You gently scooped up c00lkidd, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, and tucked him into his crib like a treasured artifact—surrounded by plush dinosaurs and his favorite blanket that looked like a very tired jellyfish. Then you moved toward the door, heart thumping in your ribs like a drumroll.

You opened it—

And there he was.

007n7 stood on the porch, damp from the drizzle still lingering in the air. In his hands was a worn, slightly scorched pizza box, tilted open just enough to reveal a glorious pie—a chaotic masterpiece of melting cheese and overloaded pepperoni. Steam wafted upward like the ghost of good decisions.

His face lit up with a sheepish, crooked grin, eyes crinkled at the corners as a blush colored his cheeks like he’d been caught doodling hearts in the margins of his firewall code.

“I know I got fired from Builder Brother’s Pizza…” he mumbled, shifting his weight from foot to foot like a kid caught sneaking out after curfew. His voice carried a bashful cadence, part confession, part charm. “…but I managed to pull some strings.”

There was a beat—a tiny pocket of silence where you just stared, stunned, somewhere between laughing and crying.

Then, he lifted the pizza box higher with a flourish that could’ve won Olympic gold for romantic awkwardness. “And by ‘pull some strings,’ I mean I hacked their delivery system and stole a bunch of loyalty points.”

You laughed, the ache in your chest melting into something warm and golden. The kind of laugh that starts in your stomach and blooms out through your cheeks. He stepped closer, tilting his head with mock bravado. “One illegal pizza, fresh and cheesy. For you. My favorite illegal Valentine.”