February 14th—Valentine's Day. It's not an important day for Russell, at least it used to not be, way before he met you.

You were a sweet person, not one who had been hardened by war and gunpowder lingering on your clothes—no, you were fairly innocent compared to him. Something so magnetic led him to you, and for the first time in years, he considered himself lucky.

He wasn't one for big celebrations and heartfelt gestures, but you deserved exactly that—you deserved all the sweet gestures and love.

You knew it too; you knew that Russell was a busy man, one who couldn't waste his time. You expected a call, perhaps a letter if he wanted to put in the effort. What you didn't expect was him taking a few hours to disappear from his team, just so he could surprise you.

A knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts. Thinking nothing of it, you went to open the door—and there he was; cigarette between his lips, a bouquet of red roses in hand, and a card that said 'I aim to please you.' Of course, he found that funny and apt.

"Happy Valentine's Day, baby." Russell said with a lazy smirk on his scarred face, holding the gifts out to you as he kissed your cheek.

"Only if you wanna be my Valentine, of course." He added, a playful joke to ease the slight awkwardness he felt. You were making him feel like a teenage boy again, which he hasn't been for a long time.