February 14:

"Daddy…" a little boy – no older than seven – called. His name was Timothy. Timothy Bolton.

He was an adorable child. With huge blue-grey eyes and dimpled smile, he always managed to make his father, Troy Bolton, smile. His laughter was light and clear, reminiscent of those memorable summer days of pure joy and innocence where blades of grass were crushed by tiny feet and the breeze was friendly and refreshing.

Troy lifted his attention from his work, pulled off his reading glasses and studied his son briefly before speaking. He sensed trouble, and needed only the mischievous gleam in Timothy's eyes to confirm his fears.

"Yes? Is something wrong?" he asked, snapping a file close.

Little Timothy glanced to his side, eyes resting on a girl of identical age. "Abby?" he nudged her gently, indicating to her that it was her turn to speak.

Young Abigail nodded, brilliant blue eyes sparkling like gemstones in their sockets. "It's Valentine's Day this weekend," she suggested with a smile blossoming on her lips. "And you know what that means."

Troy frowned at his twins, running a hand through his deep auburn hair. This did not bid well. "No...No, sorry. I don't see what it means."

"You sure?" Abigail asked with raised brows, tilting her head slightly.

"What are you implicating?" their father questioned, still frowning at the two little ones.

The twins frowned and exchanged glances. "Aren't you going to ask Uncle Ryan out?" Timothy queried, shocked and confused.

"What?!" Troy snapped. "No! No! No! Why would I ask Uncle Ryan out?"

"It's Valentine's Day," Abigail answered defiantly – like that answer provided her father any insight regarding this rather absurd topic.

"So?" Troy retorted, folding his arms. His cheeks tinged a faint pink at the mention of the name Ryan. Oh this certainly did not bid well. Not well at all.

"Well…you love Uncle Ryan…" Timothy offered with an honest smile.

"No. I love your mother. And you know that very well," Troy stated calmly, trying his best to maintain his composure. "I do not love –"

"Tim, what's the golden rule in this house?" Abigail questioned with an impish smile.

"We must not lie," Timothy replied with a quick smile.

"And?" Abigail prompted while Troy quirked his brows.

"No one, not even father is an exception to that rule," Timothy smirked while Abigail nodded her head vigorously.

Troy sighed and rubbed his temple. Was his affection for the blond that obvious? Did they notice how his eyes tend to linger longer on Ryan compared to others? Or did they notice how red his cheeks were when Ryan was around? Or perhaps they noted the adoration in his eyes when the blond laughed or smiled?

"He is my friend," Troy remarked cautiously. He needed to be careful with his choice of words. The last thing he needed was his children pinning him for vulgarity of speech (words like damn, hell, or shit were highly forbidden in their daily conversation) or anything of that sort.

"Uncle Chad is too. But I don't see you going all gaga over him," Timothy piped.

"Or drool at the sight of him," Abigail laughed softly.

"I did not drool," Troy corrected, staring at his twins.

"Ok…how about salivating?" Timothy commented with arched brows.

"Ain't that the same as drooling?" Troy added, "And Uncle Ryan is only a friend. Nothing more."

"Don't lie to us," Abigail warned. "Uncle Chad told us about your drastic change in behaviour after mother's death. You were less cheerful and you isolated yourself from the society."

"Dad, we noticed how you treated Uncle Ryan differently. You never rushed to answer the door or phone if it was not him. You were always smiling when he was around. Always laughing –"

"And always blushing," Abigail interjected smugly.

Troy exhaled slowly, dragging the stale air out of his lungs.

It was true. Ever since the death of his wife – Gabriella Montez – Troy Bolton had led a quiet life. But things got worse from there. Shortly after her death – about a year or two – his career as a basketball superstar ended abruptly. Troy knew that his career as a basketball player was short. The pain that flared from his ankle up to his knee was an ill omen for his blossoming career. His glory was brief and soon he was erased from the memories of thousands while he was replaced by a better player.

He had to move on.

Currently living in an apartment in New York, Troy was working as a clerk of a small publishing house. He spent at least two third of his salary on his twins – proper education, nice clothes, new toys and books.

Behind his calm, smiling countenance, he was a bitter man. At times, tears welled in his eyes as he thought of his wife and the excitement in the stadium. He was falling apart slowly, eroding from the inside. But he constantly reminded himself to be strong…be strong for little Abigail and Timothy.

Fortunately for him, his twins were fully aware of his condition – mentally and financially. They had seen tears welling in his eyes when he embraced them in a hug. They could see through all his lies and forced smiles. And they noticed how those blue-grey eyes lost their luster as he struggled in the currents of time.

But things changed when a dashing man in tailored Armani entered their life, or to be more precise, strutted into Troy's cluttered office four years ago. He was Ryan Evans – the apple of Troy Bolton's eyes.

"You love him!" Abigail insisted. "You know that."

Troy dipped his head and muttered, "You don't know…I can't…"

"Is it because Uncle Ryan is a male?"

Their father smiled wanly.

"So?" Abigail frowned.

"The society does not accept anything outside the norm. This could easily ruin us. And this would certainly ruin Uncle Ryan's career."

"Uncle Ryan used to date this model…an underwear model…" Timothy stated slowly.

"The model is a he. And their relationship lasted for about a week," Abigail added.

"How –"

"We investigated him. We needed to know is he clean and decent enough to date daddy."

"That's really unnecessary…"

"And guess what, he fancies daddy…A LOT!" Abigail giggled.

"Uncle Ryan!" Abigail and Timothy greeted simultaneously, running towards a smartly dressed man.

Ryan Evans lifted his head and studied the approaching figures. Platinum hair spilled over cornflower-blue eyes, as his handsome aquiline face broke into a smile. He then shifted his gaze to the tall brunet, and sighed inwardly. His feelings for Bolton were well suppressed and hidden. The last thing he needed was to be called fag by the one he loved. That was something Ryan Evans could never handle.

The blond pulled the twins into a warm hug, planting kisses on their foreheads. "So how's your day?"

"Brilliant!" Timothy replied.

The blond nodded. "That's good."

"Uncle Ryan," Abigail tugged his coat sleeve. "Are you free this weekend?"

"Yes…" Ryan stated slowly as Troy halted in midstride.

"Free on Valentine's Day?" Timothy asked.

"Yes…Why?" Ryan answered with a frown.

"Good. Keep it that way," Timothy grinned.

Ryan cocked a brow while Troy began coughing, cheeks red.

"So Uncle Ryan…what do you like?" Abigail asked, edging closer to her father. "Causal or smart?" She gestured at her father, and scrunched her nose at his attire.

Troy coughed louder, mouthing something to his little girl. His little girl however scowled in return and huffed indignantly.

Ryan chuckled softly, noting the blush on Troy's face. Dipping his head, Evans felt the heat rising to his cheeks and gently palmed it with his cold hands. Could it be that Bolton was asking him out for Valentine's Day? Could it be possible that Bolton actually loved him?

"Presentable. That's all that matters," Ryan grinned, beaming at Troy.

Troy blushed furiously under Ryan's blue gaze and quickly, he dipped his head to glare at the tarmac. Why did he agree to this? He bet he looked like an overripe tomato. Timothy sniggered softly at his father's reaction and whispered, "Papa…you are behaving like a girl."

Troy lifted his gaze and glowered at his son, "I wonder whose fault is this…"

"Would it help if I tell you that you look like an overripe tomato?" Timothy offered with a sinister grin.

Troy's hands flew to his face, and he began to rub them furiously.

"That's not going to work," his son smirked while Troy groaned.

"Ok. Italian, French, Japanese, Chinese or is anything fine with you?" Abigail continued, jotting down Ryan's answers and replies.

"Anything is fine with me," Ryan stated, his gaze lowered and cheeks red.

"I see…Pretty flexible eh? Good. Good." Abigail nodded her head. "One more question, and you are free to leave."

"I did not realize I came here to be interrogated," Ryan chuckled.

"Don't be rude Abby," Troy managed hoarsely. "Uncle Ryan is here to visit us…not to be questioned about his preferences and penchants. He is helping me in the kitchen."

"Well I am happy with that. You are such a lousy cook, father," Abigail enunciated.

"It's alright Bolton. What's the last question?" the blond asked, hands on his hips.

"Flowers…you aren't allergic to them, right?" Abigail asked.

Ryan shook his head in reply. "Can we head inside?" he asked.

"I look ridiculous…" Troy muttered darkly, staring at his reflection with disbelief.

"No." Abigail frowned. "You look great! Don't he, Tim?"

Timothy nodded his head. "You seriously do."

Their father heaved a heavy sigh and studied his reflection. Dressed in a charcoal-grey suit matched with a coral blue tie (that was given to him by Sharpay Evans many years back), he looked dashing. He even got his mane managed, trimmed and styled today – many thanks to the two lovelies that were sitting on the edge of his bed. Yes. He scrutinized his reflection one last time. He looked great. Correction, he looked like he belonged to the cover page of some posh fashion magazine with Ryan Evans wrapped tightly in his arms. The latter was some mad fantasy of Bolton, if he managed to get Ryan alone…

Alone.

"Hold it…I can't go! I'm not leaving the two of you here alone!" Troy said, turning sharply on his heels.

"Don't worry. We have settled that," Abigail replied, eyes glued on a book. Her reply sounded more like: Like I am giving you any chance to chicken out tonight.

"Really?" Troy choked.

"Yes. Mrs. Camden –"

"Who?" their father interrupted.

"Mrs. Camden. Our neighbour. She babysits us when you and Uncle Ryan are too busy. I called her yesterday and she agreed to look after us while you are away for the evening," Timothy clarified, and winked to Abigail.

"Oh…ok."

"You are such a recluse," the little girl remarked. "Why –"

The doorbell rang, cutting Abigail short. "Coming!" Troy grunted.

"We will get it. It should be her," Timothy said, resting his hand on his father's arm. "It's about time for her to collect us."

The twins left the room hurriedly, whisking their jackets off the sofa. Troy heard the front door clicked open and his twins exchanging greetings with their babysitter. Their father frowned and moved towards the door of his room.

"Dad, we are going now!" Abigail stated, leaving the apartment.

"Take care," Troy reminded, heading out of his room. "Don't trouble Mrs…just don't trouble anyone."

"We won't," Timothy replied "And dad…"

"Yes?" Troy said.

"Don't come back till he agrees to be your boyfriend."

Troy inhaled sharply. He had never felt this nervous before. Never. Eyes slammed shut, he breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself down. He raised his reluctant hand, wanting to ring the doorbell, only to snatch it back.

The brunet gulped. Again he lifted his hand, and instead of ringing the bell, he rapped his knuckles against the wood. The door swung open and the sweet scent of lavenders and lilies greeted him.

"Bolton…you look amazing," Ryan smiled, studying Bolton with hungry eyes.

"Umm…hi," Troy said lamely as he felt heat pooling in his stomach. "I…er…Happy Valentine's Day…This…this is for you." He raised his hand, offering Ryan a bouquet of blue violets.

The blond smiled. "Violets?" he queried, accepting the flowers.

"Abigail said that I should avoid the roses. She said they weren't fresh. They normally wilt a few hours after purchase."

Ryan nodded his head slowly, slightly disappointed with his reply.

"And…well…In my opinion, roses are far too common. I don't want to give you something common. So I bought you violets. Blue violets."

"Roses are red and violets are blue?" Ryan chuckled, blushing under Troy's gaze.

"A very romantic combination. Red roses signify love. So does blue violets…and…well…it also means faithfulness."

"I see..." Ryan smiled. "You mean that?"

Troy nodded and blushed furiously. "Yes."

The blond laughed softly and leaned forward, pressing his lips on Troy's. Troy's eyes widened but soon, his hand flew to Ryan's waist, pulling the blond closer as he deepened the kiss. He pulled Ryan's lower lip into his, tugging the soft, pink flesh with his lips.

"Dinner?" Ryan gasped into his mouth.

"Forget dinner."

"Don't worry. Mrs. Camden is away. Won't be back till next Sunday," Timothy smiled, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Well done, Timothy," their babysitter chuckled.

"I'm worried about dad. I hope he does not botch up the evening," Abigail sighed, unbuckling hers.

"Don't worry. I'm sure everything will progress as planned," Chad commented, closing the car door.

"Really?" the little girl asked, jumping out of the black Audi.

"Really," Chad replied with a knowing smile. "I'm pretty sure they are enjoying themselves."

And yes, not far from where Chad Danforth was living, Troy Bolton and Ryan Evans was certainly enjoying themselves.

Author: A day late for Valentine's Day. Chuckle. But what the heck. Specially dedicated to nova and miracleflame-alchemist147. Now...off napping.