Blue was angry at everything, and then angry at herself for being angry.

The living room was slowly being suffocated with Valentine's Day presents from all of Orla's admirers - this included but was not limited to: bouquets of flowers, balloons, chocolate boxes, stuffed animals, and fancy red boxes with fancy red ribbons. ("I bet you Grandma's ring these are undergarments," Orla had said, then opened one of them without waiting for Blue's response - which was a mere eye roll. Grandma's sapphire ring had stayed on her finger as always.)

It was becoming hard to navigate in the overstuffed room. Orla, of course, could have very well taken her presents upstairs and kept them in her room. She didn't. Blue knew why she didn't - she wanted everyone to see, know, envy. And it was working on Blue which was the most infuriating part.

Blue should have been used to this kind of theatrics around Orla on Valentine's Day but come every year, her cousin's self-importance still managed to annoy her, and come this year, she was more than just annoyed. She was angry - angry because none of them were for her and all of them were for Orla.

Not that Blue wanted undergarments. Or those huge, over the top stuffed bears and flashy balloons. Not that Blue wanted anything.

She didn't even like Valentine's Day, for God's sake, and it was a mantra she kept repeating to herself angrily. It was a trite capitalist holiday; a ploy to rob people of their money in the name of love. Love shouldn't be celebrated out of obligation, she thought. She definitely didn't want gifts or flowers out of obligation.

But perhaps she wouldn't have minded a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolate if it truly came from the heart. What really mattered to her was the intention, the knowledge that someone did think of her today. She felt terribly contradictory.

She was sure of one thing at least, though she wasn't very happy about this truth either. She didn't want just someone to be thinking of her today. Her traitorous heart wanted one specific someone. But when she called him a few hours ago after being unable to listen to Orla's gloating anymore, he gently but not so subtly turned her down.

She didn't even know what happened. She just wanted to talk, wanted to feel the vibrations of his voice gently whispering into the phone against her ear, wanted to listen to him try and cheer her up with his useless trivia. And he granted her that, if a bit distractedly, but like every time, that desire to talk grew into the desire to see him and she hastily, quietly whispered, "Can I come over?" into the receiver. He was alone at Monmouth, she knew - Adam and Ronan celebrating on their own in their own way, and Noah spending the day out with Matthew, which was just as weird as it was right - and it was dangerous, but no more dangerous than all of those nightly conversations and the quiet peace she felt with him under the stars in an open field.

It was possible he thought it would be too intimate for them to hang out alone on Valentine's Day. They weren't dating - there's been no talk of that even after Ronan and Adam started holding hands and sucking each other's face in their spare time, and Blue thought that was okay. There were still a lot of things keeping them apart. She shouldn't be this upset that he was trying to be the sensible one between the two of them - God knows, somebody had to be, and Blue's sensibility was seriously impaired around Gansey. Yet, the way he stuttered and backtracked, the way he asked, "Now?" like he was genuinely uncomfortable with the idea, stung like a slap in the face. He made a quick excuse that he already had somewhere else to be, which was weak at best and clearly a lie at worst, then hang up.

Blue wanted to punch him and herself at the same time. Out of practical reasons, she could do neither so she settled on directing her anger towards Orla. Leaving harsh remarks and making disgusted noises here and there, but for all her efforts, Orla was undeterred from flaunting all she got. When there was another knock on the door, Blue couldn't take it anymore. If one more giant teddy bear was transported into the already overflowing living room, she would strangle Orla.

"Another one of your admirers are at the door," she told Orla in a tone that was too bitter even for herself, and stamped up the stairs.

She was only halfway up when Orla called after her, "Yoo-hoo, Blueeeeee! It's for you."

Blue, with narrowed eyes, feeling a bit suspicious, turned back. At the threshold was Gansey, wearing a bashful expression and holding a stuffed lion against his chest. In the lion's grip was a red pillow heart but Blue couldn't make out the words written on it from afar.

She bit the inside of her cheek in some semblance of an attempt at self-control - she was annoyed and glad to see him but she would not be appeased that easily.

Shooing Orla away from the door, - whose lips curved into a cheeky grin - Blue gave Gansey an unimpressed look, emphasized by her raised eyebrows. "What are you doing here?"

Gansey's sheepishness grew. His voice was soft. "You didn't answer the phone."

It was true, she told her mother she didn't want to talk to him when he called ten minutes ago. It was childish but she couldn't possibly imagine what else he had to say, and she wasn't sure she wanted to hear it now.

Blue sighed and crossed her arms in the universal sign of, "I'm losing my patience, you better talk quickly." But Gansey's gentle gaze didn't waver.

"Do you still want to come over?"

"I don't know, Gansey, do I? I thought you had somewhere else to be." She was angry at herself for the way she said this, the way she lost her composure and spat the words; it made it too obvious how much he offended and hurt her.

Gansey winced. "That might have been a tiny bit of evasion on my part. I don't actually have anywhere else to be." He was running his thumb along his bottom lip - a gesture of nerves that she normally found endearing. He looked sincere and Blue was inexplicably pissed about that too.

She glared at him. "So you admit to lying?"

Gansey exhaled a guilt-ridden sigh but didn't slouch beneath her scrutinizing gaze. He held himself as proud and kingly as ever. His eyes, however, were pleading with her. "Please just come over. There's something I'd like you to see. And," he held the lion up higher, shook it playfully, "this is for you."

Blue stubbornly didn't look at the lion. "Forget it. Valentine's Day is stupid anyway. I don't need you to think you're obligated to do anything just because -"

"I don't feel obligated to do anything," Gansey cut in, his expression open, sincere, his voice somehow incredulous. Like he couldn't even imagine where she got that idea from. Blue held back a snort. "I want to. If it makes you feel better," he added when Blue leveled him with a cold look, "we can pretend it's just another normal day."

Blue let out a sigh. Part of her wanted to give in, throw her principles out the window and try something new for once. Let him try to convince her that Valentine's Day wasn't so bad. There was a good chance she'd end up enjoying Gansey's company regardless of the occasion. Her wishes and desires still did not logically fit together.

Gansey waited patiently as her thoughts raced but Blue didn't have a clear answer yet. Instead, she examined the lion in his hand more closely and gave a skeptical snort.

"You make my heart roar?" she read aloud, raising her eyebrows again. When her eyes locked with his, she was momentarily taken aback by his effortless golden boy beauty. Her treacherous heart skipped a beat. His grin was easy and lighthearted but his eyes - his eyes were intense. Powerful. Saying everything and nothing at the same time.

There went her determination.

"You truly do."

On the ride there, Blue tried to give her lion a name. She could have left it at home and it would have been more practical, but it ended up coming with them and Blue didn't really mind. It was soft, cuddly, kinda cute. She liked it.

"I think I got it," Blue said and gave Gansey a cocky smile. He glanced at her sideways, a gesture for her to go on. "Spot."

"Spot?"

"Mmmmhm. You know. Dick and Jane and their dog, Spot. Except this is a lion."

Gansey laughed lightly. He didn't take his eyes off the road but Blue could see the smile dancing in them. "Oh, Jane."

Oh, Jane. He said it in a way that left her heart racing. Fond, instinctive, affectionate. Like he never wanted to be saying any other name. Never wanted to be looking at anyone else. Blue had to play it self-involved to convince herself this was okay, this love was not life-changing, life would still go on after him.

"Yes, I'm funny and creative, I know," she said and tucked her lion under her chin. She was watching him from the corner of her eye and trying not to do it. But she couldn't stop - he looked content, serene, so startlingly alive and real, and his smile lingered on his lips long after his laughter had died.

"What is that smell?" Blue asked the minute they stepped inside Monmouth. She sniffed the air then scrunched up her nose and coughed, immediately regretting it. She couldn't be sure but she imagined this is what charred flesh would smell like. She turned to Gansey in horror. "Gansey, did something die in here?"

He grimaced and moved to stand on a chair which was put directly in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of Monmouth. He closed the top half of the window that had been left open, presumably to let the smell out, but Blue wasn't sure she wouldn't trade the stench for the chilly February air outside. Even so, she shivered and pulled her coat around herself tighter.

Gansey didn't answer until he jumped off the chair and removed his gloves and scarf. He kept his coat on. He looked indistinctly angry which was decidedly strange to see in contrast with the perfectly calm and focused face that she was used to. That face, however, was a lie. Blue greedily accepted any glimpse of a real Gansey behind the facade.

"I had a minor accident in the kitchen," he told her, somewhat pitifully.

"Oh-oh," Blue said, and her lips were pulling into an amused grin.

Gansey grunted noncommittally. "Let's just say there will be no sizzling moroccan prawns or baked chocolate pudding tonight. Jamie Oliver made it seem so easy." He sighed regretfully but forced himself to brighten up after a moment. "But there will be party sandwiches and egg salad, and perhaps you'll be impressed to learn that I've made them all myself without any further accidents. I dare say they turned out quite delicious. And there's a box of chocolate for dessert," he finished with a smile.

Blue appraised him curiously, absentmindedly twiddling with the belt of her quilted coat. The smell was becoming more bearable but she still didn't dare breathe too deeply.

"Why were you trying to cook in the first place?" She thought she might know, though.

Gansey thought the same. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "I thought that was obvious. I, -" He was blushing now, a sight to see. There was a hidden side of Gansey that she could easily bring out in him, she noticed. It was a bolder yet self-conscious side. A wilder, longing one. A blushing mess at times. Always trying to impress her. She held back a smile.

"I was cooking for you." His lips curled into a sarcastic smile at his own words. "Trying to."

"For Valentine's Day?" she asked, and her voice was somehow smaller than it was before.

Gansey merely nodded. The moment felt too big for words and Blue slowly stepped forward, into the warmth of his chest, to be engulfed in him. Her head against his heart, - purely coincidental but not unwanted - her small hands clutching him tight, digging into his coat. His fingers on her waist, gentle and steadying, tentative and sure at the same time. The smell of mint felt like home. He was all she breathed, all she wanted.

She didn't think of kissing him, there was no need. Sometimes, just this was enough. The simplicity of a hug, the calm that his wildly beating heart against her ear brought, the knowledge that he felt the same as she did.

When they pulled away, Gansey messed with her hair then put it behind her ears in the same breath. Blue was too lighthearted to glare; she made a pathetically weak attempt at one anyway.

"When you called, I was in the middle of executing plan B. I wasn't ready for you to come over yet."

"That's... you could have just told me," Blue stuttered but she didn't really feel angry anymore.

"And ruin the surprise?" Gansey guided her towards a horde of blankets spread out on the floor. "I didn't mean to lie to you, I panicked. Sit down, wrap yourself in. I'll open the window a bit. Take your coat off." He hung her coat up and turned to her. "I'll be right back."

When he returned, he had all the food he'd promised with him, plus apple, orange, and blueberry juice, and two glasses. When they started eating, Blue would be lying to say she wasn't surprised to find out that the salad and sandwiches were actually great. Making them didn't require mad cooking skills, she supposed, but this was the boy who kept his fridge in the bathroom. She was almost wary to eat anything that came out of Monmouth.

But Gansey beamed wildly at her when she complimented his sandwiches and that mostly made up for the risk of food poisoning.

After returning from a bathroom break, Blue settled back inside the jungle of blankets to find a Valentine's Day card waiting for her where previously the food had been. It was white with a vine of delicate and refined hearts decorating the top and the words 'Happy Valentine's Day' written in red at the bottom.

Blue raised her eyes to Gansey's and he said, "I know I said we could pretend it's just another normal day, but -" He didn't continue, waving for her to open it. The gesture was almost shy.

Blue didn't mean to laugh when she did and it was probably somewhat cruel of her to do so but it was instinctive. She couldn't hold her giggles back. Gansey gave her an equally amused and wounded look and she pressed her lips together, cheeks flushed. She wasn't laughing at him and she didn't want him to think so. Well. In truth, she was, but not for the reasons he thought.

Her eyebrows lifted in amusement, her smile was gleeful. It was quite telling that despite being laughed at, he still softened at the sight of her smile.

She read aloud, "Will you be my Valentine? Check yes or no. Gansey," she chuckled, "we're not in middle school anymore."

"I," he trailed off, pursed his lips, and tried again. "I thought it would be charming."

Blue considered this for a moment. She considered it as seriously as she could but - she burst out laughing again, shaking her head. "It isn't. I appreciate the gesture though."

Gansey gave her a tight-lipped smile and reached over to refill their drinks. Blue suddenly wished he was wearing his glasses. She wished he would sit closer. She wished she was wrapped up in his scent and arms, and wished she wasn't so deeply involved with him at the same time. She didn't, however, wish he was less lame than he was.

She touched his hand as he poured blueberry juice into her glass and he started, spilling some of it on the blankets. Blue smirked.

"It's okay," she told him before he could scramble to get up to remove the stain, and he started feeling even more awkward. She didn't let go of his hand. "Do you have a pen?"

His distracted eyes met hers and she gave him an encouraging smile. He nodded. "Just a moment, Jane."

Blue ended up checking 'yes' despite herself, and it felt silly but right. She recognized the lightness of her heart as pure child-like giddiness and didn't even try to stop herself from feeling it. Just one time they could pretend even in daylight.

Blue looked at all the blankets they were sitting on, all the blankets wrapped around them. "We could make a blanket fort," she suggested, her voice low to adapt to the quiet.

Gansey's glasses were on, and a book about old legends was sitting on his left, her lion on her lap, an empty chocolate box between them. He had been reading stories aloud to her because she asked him to, and at one point, she, on a strange wild impulse, leaned over to feed him chocolate while he paused to take a breath.

Gansey had looked up from his book, stared at her for a while as he chewed and swallowed, then gave her a smile. Blue felt her face heating up, evidence of her mortification over what she just did, but she still reached for another and pressed it to his mouth. His lips brushed her fingers and Blue's heart skipped a beat, her breath hitched in her throat. Gansey's lips were kissable and soft, annoyingly desirable, and Blue didn't immediately pull away like she should have. He caught her gaze and held it, made sure she couldn't look away as he captured her wrist and pressed his mouth against her finger. He didn't move away for several seconds, and Blue thought it was almost too much. The way he was looking at her, the feel of his hand around her wrist, his lips against her skin, so damn forbidden. She wanted to pull away; she wanted to stay like this for eternity. She didn't move until he did. She couldn't stop herself from doing it again.

It had been quiet between them for a while now. The day was drawing to an end and Blue didn't yet want to go. She grasped at something to do, a reason to stay.

Gansey made an affirmative noise, blinked at her slowly through his glasses, but didn't move. Blue didn't either for a few minutes, too content to enjoy the comfortable peace between them for a bit more, but eventually she convinced her legs to function and stood up. Gansey immediately jumped to attention, grabbing at her hands, an edge of desperation in his movements.

"Don't go yet," he said. Pleaded.

She gave him a soft smile. "I'm not. Blanket fort, remember?"

The blanket fort was quickly thrown together and a product of generally lazy work but it did its job. Another day, when they weren't constantly racing against time, they could build a real, epic blanket fort and live in it for weeks. Maybe. That seemed like the kind of thing she'd want to do with her future partner. It also seemed like the kind of thing no one could ever afford.

It wasn't a spacious thing so they lay side by side, their bodies, from head to toe, pressed against each other's. All she heard in the quiet was his slow breathing and the thump-thump-thump of her heart. It was growing dark outside, and even darker in their blanket fort supported by a number of chairs and his bed. It would be too easy to fall asleep now, she thought, but didn't find a fault in that idea. She was so weak and so selfish and so magnificently in love.

She tried to be casual as her fingers first climbed up the back of his hand, stroked his skin, then slipped inside his waiting grip, but her heart was a fluttery, dancing, quivering thing. It was okay, she was almost used to it by now. His was palm in hers was warm, strong, and sure.

"Did you know," she began quietly, lips slowly forming the words, "that St. Valentine is not only the patron of love and relationships but also plagues and bee keepers?"

Gansey hummed. "No, I did not, Jane. Is that right?"

She chuckled. "Yeah. Bee keepers. Does that make you like this day less?"

Gansey shook his head in amusement. "Why do you know this?"

"What do you think public school is teaching me if not unnecessary trivia in a lazy attempt to prepare me for the real world outside?" she taunted but her jab was soft-edged and mellow. At Gansey's look, she conceded, "I read it on the internet." A pause. "Happy Valentine's Day, Gansey."

Stupidly, without even realizing, she let herself be won over. She didn't terribly mind it at the moment.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Jane."

Then she snuggled closer to him and lay her head on his shoulder. He patted her hair, threaded his fingers through the strands. His other hand was still in hers, and neither of them moved or made a sound. Blue closed her eyes. When she fell asleep, Gansey was still playing with her hair.

When she woke up, a door slammed shut and someone cursed, "Jesus H. Christ, what is that in our living room?"

Gansey stirred under her, his movements slow and sluggish, and Blue determinedly kept her eyes shut. Gansey spit her hair out of his mouth, groaned quietly, and made to get up. Blue's hand was latched onto his sweater and when he tried to move, she tightened her grip on him.

"No," she mumbled, only half-awake.

Someone was snickering but it sounded far away. The only real thing seemed to be Gansey's solid chest moving under her cheek with every breath and the clean minty scent that surrounded her. She was warm and comfortable and sleepy. All she knew was that she didn't want Gansey to move.

She lazily patted his chest, trying to say, "stay" without saying it. "No," she repeated quietly, hoping he would understand her.

Gansey stayed. In the blurry haze of her mind, she could still register his warm hand coming to rest on her waist, hugging her to his chest. He didn't move after that and they remained wrapped up in each other on the floor under an army of blankets for the whole night. Just for one night.