Valentine's Day. The worst day of the year.

It started off like any other. Lassiter woke up at the crack of dawn and grabbed coffee before immediately leaving for the station. The drivers who were on the road already were atrocious, as usual. Probably a lack of sleep, or whatever, but he grew aggravated quite quickly.

By the time he actually got to work, he wasn't in the mood to deal with any of their idiocy and already he wanted to go home. Sighing, He stared at the outside of his locker and fidgeted with his tie. Lassiter wasn't fond of using his locker. There was really no need, considering he hardly needed to put anything in there. Still, he opened it every morning just because.

Even he wasn't quite sure why. Some weird form of OCD or something, perhaps. It didn't matter. Lassiter entered the combination and unlocked it, opened it swiftly and narrowed his eyes. It was mostly empty, a spare suit jacket just in case as well as another gun holster. But today, there was something else. A card with a Hershey Kiss taped to it.

Lassie looked confused and surveyed the locker room, but he was alone. Suffocatingly alone.

He gingerly picked the envelope up and peeled off the candy, setting it back on the small shelf before opening the letter. It was handwritten in a familiar chicken scratch that immediately made him roll his eyes. It was a reflex now. Still, he didn't discard it. Instead, he read each word carefully, progressively getting more confused.

Lassie,

Happy Valentine's Day. I know you're gonna be all pissy today, so I'll stay in the shadows. You won't know I'm there... Most likely. Well, I can't make any promises but I can try. Anyway, I figured you probably aren't getting to get anything today, since you're utterly alone and whatnot. So I took the liberty myself.

Somewhere close to you, you'll find a box. It's a gift, but you don't have to accept it.

Shawn

He growled lightly, put the letter back in his locker and grabbed the chocolate. He unwrapped the candy and popped it in his mouth, roughly threw the wrapper in the garbage. Naturally, Lassie missed, but he ignored it and moved on to his desk. The only place that had been close to him was his locker, and there was nothing else in there. No box. What was Shawn trying to pull?

Lassiter spent all morning trying to figure it out, thankfully getting called in on a case.

The case only distracted him a few hours. It was an easy-to-decipher suicide. Shawn didn't even jump in and tell him he was wrong, which was probably why he couldn't help thinking he did something wrong, missed something. It was only five, so he hadn't wasted enough of the day investigating.

But he couldn't help it. He'd been distracted all day. Maybe he'd review the case later, when he was back inside his head. Lassie just stared dimly at his computer before hearing a voice. A voice he hadn't expected to hear.

"Alright, Lassie, I know I said I'd back off, but you look like shit." It was obviously not a professional observation. Everyone saw it; Shawn was just the first to point it out. And he approached the desk, pushed himself up and sat on the edge of it. "What's bugging you?" he asked innocently, as if the Valentine's gifts didn't exist.

Lassiter groaned, head fell to the desk with a soft thud. "This stupid treasure hunt you put me on. I didn't find a damn box, Spencer," he spoke exasperatedly as he looked back up. The boy just pursed his lips, kicked his legs a bit. An action that upset Lassie greatly, for whatever reason.

"Did you check the left drawer of your desk?" he asked seriously, without a second thought or anything. "I told you, it was close to you. Honestly, I was pretty sure you opened that drawer daily. Just like your locker."

It still begged the question of how Shawn knew his locker combination, but he ignored it and opened the desk drawer. Inside was a small box with a red ribbon wrapped around it. The box had been painted black and appeared to be made out of cardboard. That was something else Lassiter dismissed.

The detective softly unwrapped the ribbon and slid the box open. Inside was a sterling silver ring, perfectly imperfect in that it looked like it was made from plastic. But Shawn blushed.

"I know it isn't anything special, but it was short notice and... well, I didn't have money. The bills were expensive and our cases just weren't-"

"Thank you, Spencer," Lassiter replied sincerely. He stared at Shawn, almost still in confusion tough a great deal of any anger had subsided, and fiddled with the ring before he slipped it onto to a random finger. Naturally, it ended up on his left ring finger.

They both saw the words left unsaid. But Shawn had to embarrass the man, so he smirked and stared at the finger. "Getting married, are we?" he teased, grin malicious, despite the joyous tint to his eyes.

"I-I... No!" Lassie stammered, taken aback for a moment. "I don't like you, Spencer."

Shawn didn't hesitate to grab Lassiter's hand. "If you can honestly say you don't like me, fine. I'll go. But if not... Lassie, you're already wearing the ring."

Silence. The prominent sound, despite the many officers running around and completely ignoring Shawn's shenanigans, was silence. And then it happened. Lassiter smiled. Only for a moment, but he smiled. And he stood, releasing Shawn's hand, and then just started walking off.

Shawn looked upset, but nodded to himself, the feeling that someone was staring at him causing him to turn around. Lassiter had leaned against a column, eyes peered into his soul.

"Mario's," the head detective began, "Tonight at 7. Don't be late."

Maybe, just maybe, Valentine's Day wasn't so bad after all.