Nate enters the small, dingy office with a lopsided grin hanging off his lips. The red neon sign outside casts a eerie red light over the entranceway for a moment before the door swings shut. That's when Nick looks up at his partner in crime, his attention stolen from these case notes. The grin is contagious.
"What's got that suit in a knot now?" he asks. He drapes an arm across the back of his chair and turns to face Nate, who is still wearing that stupid smile. "Please tell me it's not another deathclaw nest."
Nate steps closer. "You love me, right?"
Nick looks him up and down; his hands are folded behind his back, and he's leaning sideways, onto one of his legs, and there's that special twinkle in his eyes, like he's about to bowl down a raider settlement or heroically save a kidnapped settler.
"Maybe not a deathclaw nest," the detective corrects himself. "I'm betting on... hmm... something self-righteous, reckless and awfully swell. Am I close, doll?"
Nate's grin morphs into something adoring. "You're right about swell," he says. "Because, Nick Valentine, it's a little past one in the morning, fourteenth of February 2287, and Nick Valentine, it is Valentine's Day."
Servos whir a little bit faster as the synth processes what he's being told.
"You mean the old holiday, the one with all the romantic nonsense?"
"That's exactly what I mean." From behind Nate's back, he produces a flower–Nick identifies it as a rose–and offers it to him. "Be my valentine?" he asks innocently, lovingly and cheekily, all at the same time.
A synth-skin hand comes to take the slightly wilted flora, admiring it with borrowed knowledge.
"Why doll, I'm flattered," Nick says. He meets Nate's eyes again, and he smiles almost shyly, so the detective adds, "Thanks, Nate. If I had a heart, you'd have definitely melted it into... uh... heart-goo."
"Careful, you're talking..." Nate teases, and leans closer to pointedly stage-whisper, "romantic nonsense."
"Ain't it in the name?"
"You know, I wasn't going to point it out," Nate answers. "I know how much you hate my puns. Don't want to ruin such a special day. Your day, Nick Valenmine."
Nick flicks him an unimpressed glance, and gets to his feet, making a point to gently set down the rose on the table first. Nate raises his hands in mock surrender, taking a step back.
"No, no! I take it back! Please, spare me!" he cries, almost believably, but the love-filled grin on his face betrays everything. Besides, a detective always knows.
"Too bad, doll, you're stuck with me," Nick replies. "And if the old memory banks are workin', I definitely love you today. Same as every other day." He catches one of Nate's raised hands, tugging him closer. Nate falls against him, and Nick tucks the man's head under his chin, exhaling contently. "Happy Valentine's Day, Nate," he murmurs.