Author: LegalBlonde

Email: LegalBlonde2005@yahoo.com

Rating: G

Summary:  Marshall's plans for Valentine's Day, past and present. 

Disclaimer:  Most the characters in here aren't mine, and I'm not making any money off this.  It's all in good fun; the poem reprinted here is in the public domain.  No copyright infringement intended. 

Author's Note:  The title was inspired by Leigh Hunt's classic poem, "Jenny Kissed Me".  In case you've missed this gem, I'll  copy it right here:

Jenny kissed me when we met,

Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief! who love to get

Sweets into your list, put that in.
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad;

Say that health and wealth have miss'd me;
Say I'm growing old, but add-

Jenny kiss'd me.

Marshall J. Flinkman had come to enjoy many advantages of working for the CIA:  the official-looking desk in the middle of Ops Center, the snazzy new phone, the bevy of techies that looked at him with the kind of awe they normally reserved for the latest version of Starcraft, but none of those advantages, none, compared with Agent Ellis. 

She was petite, barely 5'2", with long auburn hair tied back at the nape of her neck.  She wore dark suits and bright shirts and thick-rimmed geek chic glasses.  And a gun.

She was the only technical officer allowed to carry a gun.  She'd been a field agent for four years before she'd decided to follow her lifelong love for technology and be retrained to join the technical ops division.  She sat near the entrance to the bullpen and her smile was every tech agent's dream. 

Marshall walked by her on Monday morning, going through his usual should-I-say-hello-or-will-she-think-I'm-a-freak routine.  He'd almost made it past her desk without a word when she looked up at him, smiled, and said, "Good morning, Agent Flinkman."

This was really too much for him.  "Good morning, She-- I mean, Agent Ellis, how are you this morning?  Not that I expect you to be anything other than fine, of course, I mean, you look fine -- no, not like that, I wasn't saying fine, like, you know, wow, she's fine, that would be totally improper since you're an agent and I'm and agent and we're at work here…" Marshall trailed off before he could go any further and turn from his present shade of pink to a deep scarlet. 

But Agent Ellis didn't seem to notice.  She laughed, a throaty, buoyant laugh, and said, "I am fine, Marshall, thank you."  Marshall slunk back to his desk before he could embarrass himself any further. 

The problem with Agent Ellis, he realized, was that she reminded him so much of Jenny McAllister.

*********

Jenny had long red pigtails and freckles and green eyes and was the dream of every third-grade male at Morrison Elementary.  Marshall decided, in his ten-year-old wisdom, to give her a Valentine.  Every guy in the class would be giving her something, so his had to be unique.  He spent two weeks working on it, every day after school in the garage, hunched over the workbench his father had relinquished the day Marshall disassembled his first scroll saw.  He started out with a normal Valentine's Day card, and by the time it was done, it looked normal on the outside (if a little lumpy), but when opened a little plastic tube squirted bubbles into the air and a little musical chip played "Close to You".   He placed the card in a specially-constructed envelope, wrapped it in tissue paper, and slid it carefully into his backpack.  He was so worried about crushing it that he didn't put anything else in his backpack that day, and when he realized his lunchbag might leak, he left mom's usual macaroni and cheese at home, taking extra money so he could brave Fried Fish Friday in the cafeteria. 

He arrived at school extra early, wanting to slip the valentine in her box before anyone else could see.  They had all decorated tissue-paper shoeboxes earlier in the week, and lined them up across one wall of the classroom so that everyone could get their Valentines. 

The wait was agonizing.  The teacher wouldn't let them open their boxes during class, so they had to wait until the bell sounded for recess.  You could see impatient stirring and bored doodling throughout the classroom, and it was doubtful anyone learned anything about adjectives or adverbs that morning. 

It finally happened.  The bell rang and the entire class, instead of rushing for the door like normal, rushed to the far wall to open their boxes.  The boys who were too cool for Valentine's Day were never too cool for candy, so they dumped their wares on desks and started trading -- except for the licorice, nobody liked licorice -- and all the girls gathered in groups and oohed and ahhed over each other's treats. 

Jenny McAllister had the biggest box of all.  Most of the other girls, even the ones who were secretly jealous, gathered around her desk to watch her open her Valentines, one by one, and read the good ones aloud.  The boys bent over their candy and pretended not to listen, but everyone knew they were, because a read-aloud from Jenny was bragging rights for a week. 

She went through the cards, one by one, carefully stacking them on the corner of her desk as she finished.  Marshall sat on the far side of the classroom, straining his ears, hear beating fast, waiting, waiting. 

The moment finally came.  Jenny lifted the last Valentine out of her box, the largest one of all, and the girls around her started murmuring, trying to guess who it would be.  They looked puzzled -- surely everyone Jenny might bother with had already given her one.  They ticked off the names of the cool guys on their fingers while Jenny carefully pulled the card from its large envelope. She read the front silently (she never read anyone's aloud until the second time through, in case they were too mushy) and opened it up.  Several of the girls jumped when a stream of bubbles shot out into the air and the sappy strains of "Close to You" started playing.  Jenny just looked… surprised. 

"It's from Marshall," she said. 

The girls turned on him in an accusing mob. 

            "Marshall?  You gave Jenny a Valentine?"

            "You really think she likes you?"

            "That was so mushy."

Their laughs and taunts went on and on, quickly spreading to the boys in the room. 

Marshall couldn't take it.  He ran out the doors and onto the playground, rushing to a far corner of the building where no one could laugh at him and where no one would see the tears stinging his eyes.  He sat there for several minutes, thinking of a way to avoid going back in that classroom, ever again, and wiping his eyes with rough, manly motions of his fists. 

He heard someone walking up behind him.  It had to be a teacher.  Please, no teachers.  A hand tapped him softly on the shoulder.  A small hand.  He turned around, only to see the one thing that could make this moment worse: Jenny McAllister.  He'd embarrassed both of them with his Valentine's present, and now she saw him crying. 

But she didn't say anything about the crying.  She acted like she didn't even notice.  She just leaned down, kissed him lightly on the cheek, and smiled. 

            "Thank you for my Valentine, Marshall," she said.  And before he could think of anything to say in return, she was gone. 

Of course, she'd spent the rest of the day with Jake Jackson, the class jock.  But Marshall didn't mind; Marshall didn't even notice.  Jenny McAllister liked his valentine.  She even kissed him on the cheek for it.  And that was all that mattered. 

**************

It was too bad, Marshall thought grimly, that was still the best Valentine's Day he'd ever had.  Maybe he could do something about that.

Before he got too far along in his planning, he was called in to monitor a mission.  Agent Ellis had hacked a server for an illegal arms ring several months ago, and although the information they'd gathered had been valuable, she needed to access the computer on-site in order to communicate actively with other cells of the organization.  She'd left for the mission earlier that morning and would be entering the secure area shortly. 

Marshall took his seat at the terminal, watching her on a security camera screen and listening through an earpiece.  He wasn't live; he wouldn't go on the comm link unless she ran into technical problems.  Which, knowing Agent Ellis, was highly unlikely. 

She had some delay in getting into the system, costing them precious minutes, but it wasn't quite enough time to make them worry.  They should have. 

She had only transmitted to three of seven cells when the door burst open and a heavyset programmer demanded to know what she was doing there.  Agent Ellis pulled her usual routine, feigning fear with her wide eyes, twirling her long ponytail, looking diminutive and naive as only she could.  The man relaxed for a moment, sensing no threat.  What a mistake.  She kicked him in the stomach, making him double over just a bit, and her forearm connected soundly with his neck, throwing him off-balance and onto the floor.  Not bad for 117 pounds. 

That arm never stopped moving.  In one smooth motion, she brought it across her body, whipped out her sidearm, and pointed it at a rather sensitive area. 

            "If you don't mind, I'd like to borrow your computer for a few minutes." 

He cursed at her.  "You won't break into that thing anyway.  And I won't tell you how." 

She laughed.  "I'm already in, thanks, and I've contacted three of your cells.  You won't mind if I finish with the rest?"

            More cursing. 

            "You didn't really think an Engles encryption system was going to stop us, right?  Because I hacked into that thing three months ago." 

            By this time, he was using words Marshall had never heard before. 

Agent Ellis sat calmly back down at the computer, straightened her hair, and proceeded to work for twenty minutes, typing with one hand while she kept the gun trained on the programmer.  He never moved. 

That was it for Marshall.  He was going to get Agent Ellis' attention this Valentine's Day, no matter what it took. 

****************

By Thursday night, steps one through four of his plan had been accomplished, leaving only step five: actually giving her the present.  That would be the difficult part. 

Early Friday morning, he paced around Ops Center until Sydney arrived.  She was a little late, wearing a suspiciously good-smelling perfume, and smiling more brilliantly than usual.

            "Good morning, Marshall."

            "Hey, Sydney, good morning, I was wondering, you're a woman, you know, well, I shouldn't say that, it's not like you don't know you're a woman, but you're a woman, so I thought you might like womanly things, flowers and candies and all that romantic stuff, I'm sure you got some of that for Valentine's Day, which is great."  He paused, apparently under the impression he'd asked a question.  Sydney just smiled more broadly. 

"What can I help you with?"

            "Oh, you can help, great, thank you.  I really owe you for this one -- can you come out to the car with me?  It's not far just out -- through that door and down a couple blocks.  I don't have a sticker yet, you know, they don't have much space in that lot.  I was thinking about making a sticker on QuarkXPress at home; I could make you one.  Unless that's illegal or something, because I wouldn't want Kendall to be angry, after I've just been here two weeks."

            "Why don't we go to the car?" Sydney asked, looking suspiciously close to laughter. 

Two blocks later, they stood beside Marshall's well-equipped Grand Cherokee as he raised the hydraulic cover over the climate-controlled storage area he'd created in the back.  "Perfect for keeping your lunch fresh; it even has separate compartments for refrigerated and frozen.  Want a coke?"

            "No thanks, Marshall."

            "Well, okay, here we are.  I was going to give Agent Ellis something for Valentine's Day, but I didn't know what to get her, so I thought I would get her four things and decide which one would be better.  Which is why I need your help, because I'm not as great with the, you know…"

            "Womanly things?"

            "Yeah, those.  So here," he lifted up an enormous vase of roses, "is contestant number one.  These might look familiar; they're from the same place I bought yours a few weeks ago, except these are red and those were pink, that doesn't bother you that I used the same idea her as I did for you?  Because I don't buy flowers very often but these were really nice."   

            This time, Sydney did laugh.  "No, it doesn't bother me, Marshall, and those are very nice.  What else did you get?"

            "Well, there's this," he lifted out a large, heart-shaped box covered with a questionable amount of red velvet.  "It's your standard-issue chocolates, the mixed kind with the different centers.  Did you know you can tell what's in the center by the shape of the swirls on the outside?  Because I was thinking I could tell her about that, so she wouldn't have to eat any of the ones she didn't like."

            "That's not a bad idea.  Do you know if she likes candy?"

            "Well, no, but that's why I got contestant number three."  He pulled out a large white teddy bear, clutching a heart-shaped pillow.  "This one is more safe, you know, in case she doesn't like chocolate or is allergic to nuts or doesn't want a big vase of roses on her desk."  He sniffs it.  "It's supposed to be hypo-allergenic."

            Sydney nodded her approval.  "Not bad.  What's next?"

            Marshall grinned, clearly quite proud of himself.  "This," he said, "is the pièce de résistance." He pulled out an ordinary-looking glasses case.  That is, if you consider red patent leather ordinary.  "It looks like an ordinary glasses case, but when you open it…" he lifted the lid, revealing a set of tiny sensors and LEDs on the inside. "It's self-cleaning.  You put your glasses in here, you see, and it uses a low-frequency sensor to detect any irregularities on the surface of the lens, and it removes them with a low-intensity laser, so every time you pull them out," he whipped out an imaginary pair of glasses and mimed putting them on, "good as new.  So what do you think?"

            Sydney tapped his chin.  "Well, are you sure you just want to give her one of these things?"

            "Yeah, I think it might be overkill." 

            "Okay, then, I would say the glasses case."

            Marshall beamed with pride.  "Are you sure?  Because the roses are very classic, you know, every woman loves roses, well, every woman I've ever met, not that it's been that many, it's not like I go out, you know, just meeting strange women--"

            "The case is perfect, Marshall."

            He beamed again.

            "Great, then, perfect, I'll give her that."

Perfect might not have been the word.  When Marshall returned to the office, he found that Agent Ellis' desk didn't look very different from Jenny McAllister's all those years ago.  She had offerings of cards, candies, and flowers stacked everywhere.  No one in the tech division had left her out.  Marshall slouched right past her desk, deflated, and didn't bother to drop off his gift.  She wouldn't even see his tiny glasses case among all her other things. 

            He would wait, he decided.  Maybe if he waited long enough he would get the chance. 

            He waited past nine, when Agent Ellis walked in and laughed in surprise at the bounty on her desk.  He waited past eleven, when she hid everything in a file cabinet so Kendall wouldn't see what was going on.  He waited past twelve, when she went out with her friends to lunch, talking and laughing the whole way.  He waited past one, and two, and three, and finally it was after four and she was gone from her desk, attending a debrief.  It's now or never.  He rushed over to her desk before he could change his mind and propped the glasses case up against her monitor, next to a simple card he'd made.  And started waiting, again. 

As hard as he tried, he wasn't able to watch her open the gift.  She returned from debrief with nearly half the tech section and he was immediately called away to examine some projects they'd gone over.  Afterward, he sat quietly at his desk, waiting for her to say something, or do something, or even just look up and acknowledge him.  She never did. 

Finally, after six, Marshall knew it was time to give up and go home.  She was probably already getting ready for her date with some gorgeous field agent, and he was going to sit at home and work on that parking sticker.  That was just the way it went.  At least he could say he tried.  He started shoving things roughly into his briefcase, when he was stopped by a light touch on his arm. 

            "Marshall?"  He froze.  No question who that voice belonged to.

            "Hi, Agent Ellis."  He turned around to look at her, but he couldn't think of anything to say.  That was a first for him.

            "Thank you for my Valentine.  It was perfect."  And with that, she leaned down and kissed him lightly on the cheek.       

            That cheek immediately turned red.

            "I -- I'm glad you liked it, it was no big deal, you know, something I'd been working on for a while, and I figured, hey, you wore glasses, you might like that…as just a friendly little thing…on Valentine's Day."  He stopped, heart pounding, dreading what came next.  Here was where it ended, here was where she smiled and laughed and told him he was nice, or sweet, or funny, and ran off to be with the guy she really wanted, somebody like Agent Vaughn or Agent Weiss or Jake Jackson way back in the third grade.  Here was where she left him to his parking sticker while she went off to dinner and a romantic evening with somebody else.  His heart pounded faster, and his breath caught, as she started to speak.  Here it is.

            "Marshall, are you free for dinner?"