27. "I can't believe you remembered that."
"You know we don't have to do anything special for Valentine's Day, right?"
Liz is half out the door, bag in one hand and coat falling out of the other, late for work on February the 13th. Red is close behind her with a thermos of coffee, lovingly prepared while she was in the shower, trying unsuccessfully to brush her teeth and wash her hair at the same time. They trade items, working together like a well-oiled machine, Liz accepting her thermos while Red takes her coat, holding it open for her to slide her arms into, ever the consummate gentlemen, even as she's leaving him in their apartment to rush off to work.
"All right," he says mildly, surprising her.
Liz stops short with one arm in her coat, turning back to glance at him in surprise. "What, no persuasive speeches about the beauty of Maui this time of year?"
"Well," Red eases her other arm gently into her coat, tilting his head from side to side as he considers her question. "It certainly is gorgeous in February, warm water, hot sun, enough alcohol to truly incapacitate a full-grown man –"
"—Red—"
"—but, if you have something against romantic tropical vacations on Valentine's Day… then fine. Nothing special this year," he finishes with an easy smile, reaching around her to open the door.
"Oh. Good," says Liz happily, spinning in the doorway to face him. "Because after this awful week? A quiet evening at home with you is all I want."
Red smiles warmly and leans forward to give her a soft kiss, lips lingering languidly and staying close to her even as he pulls back. "That sounds perfect to me," he murmurs. "Have a good day at work, sweetheart. Be safe."
"I will," Liz promises, shooting him a smile as she heads reluctantly down the hallway. "And maybe put Maui on the bucket list, just in case!" she calls over her shoulder.
Liz hears Red laughing as he shuts their apartment door and she grins to herself all the way down to the car.
Liz lets the door slam behind her as she shuffles into the apartment the next night, exhausted and morbidly curious as to what Red, despite what she told him, has planned for the night.
Because it is Valentine's Day. And he's nothing if not ambitious.
She sighs.
"Red?" she calls out cautiously, shedding her bag and coat somewhere near the hall table. "I'm home!"
"In the living room, sweetheart."
Liz frowns, kicking off her heels in the entrance hall and walking slowly towards the living room, wondering what on earth she's going to see as she turns the corner, tentative and peeking –
But there's just Red, sitting calmly at the far end of the couch, illuminated by the warm light of the floor lamp, glasses perched on his nose as he tucks a bookmark into a thick novel. Just Red.
Huh.
Liz pauses in the doorway and peers around suspiciously, looking for something more bombastic and Red-like, perhaps a human-sized chocolate bar or a serenading string quartet.
"May I ask what it is you're looking for, Lizzie?"
She turns to him, sitting there on the couch with his feet propped on the coffee table, the very picture of innocence.
"Uh…" she shrugs a little helplessly. "Well, the unexpected, I guess."
Red raises his eyebrows. "You did say nothing special, didn't you?"
"Well, yeah," Liz hesitates. "I just didn't expect you to listen to me."
Red barks a laugh. "Well, there's your surprise, I suppose. I did, against my better judgement, obey your wishes. Are you going to come sit down now?"
Liz laughs, pleasantly surprised. It's not that she doesn't enjoy Red's spontaneity – it's one of her favorite qualities of his – but this year? She's tired and missing him and she just wants…simple.
So, she wastes no time in hurrying over to the couch, collapsing next to him to settle quickly under his arm and against his side, her favorite spot. His hand rubs lovingly up and down her arm and Liz feels her eyes slip shut, the tension of the day slipping off her like water in Red's arms, fatigue getting the better of her. And then she feels a tiny weight rest on her leg.
She cracks an eye open to see a small box, complete with a tiny red bow, resting inconspicuously on her knee.
Liz blinks sleepily at it.
"What's this?"
"Oh, nothing special," Red murmurs quietly, a meaningful smile on his face. "Open it."
Liz looks at him for a moment longer, studying his expression, trying to find a clue as to what he's planned. But Red just looks calmly back at her, his smile soft and his eyes tender.
"Open it, Lizzie."
Liz gives in, plucking the box off her knee and touching the tiny red bow with a fingertip and a smile before she slowly eases the lid back, revealing something she does not expect, letting out a small gasp at what she sees there.
She can't believe it.
It was months ago now, back in the fall, as the leaves were turning orange and brown in the trees and a chill just starting to nip in the air. Red had tugged her from the apartment on a chilly Saturday, wrapping a scarf around her neck and chattering animatedly about an art fair set up in downtown D.C. She had followed him, of course, laughing all the way, and they spent a lovely day perusing the stalls, walking slowly along the cobblestone streets, teasing and bantering as they looked at all the different handmade products for sale.
They saw hand-painted pottery and hand-sewn quilts, blown glass and mosaics, huge beautifully painted canvases that made Red pause and tug at her arm, lingering over the spectacular landscapes with his fingers twitching to his wallet. Liz had laughed, told him they had limited wall space in their apartment and pulled him on, only to pause at a stall down the street, something catching her eye and triggering her memory.
When she was young, Liz's high school art teacher had her classroom decorated with miniature landscape paintings. They were all over the walls of the room, hanging above the modeling clay and jars of brushes, on the sideboards by the radiator, and on the windowsill, covered with a layer of varnish to prevent the vivid colors from fading in the sun. Liz was never an artist – she excelled more at sports – but she loved to pick a different place each class to work aimlessly on her mediocre assignment and look at the miniature landscapes. The amount of detail and intricacy captivated her, and she always wanted to collect them just like her teacher did.
She clearly never got around to it, but she shared the story with Red, standing there in front of the stall, gazing at the tiny, perfect snapshots of lakes, meadows, beaches, mountains, rivers. Red had paid rapt attention to her, as always, but she had led them on and away from the stall without making a purchase, pleased and slightly melancholy after a few minutes of remembering her childhood. She had thought no more about it since then.
Red obviously had.
Because in the tiny box with the tiny bow is a tiny painting, one that must have been among the selection laid out in the stall at the art fair.
Something Red must have gone back to purchase.
It's a beautiful beach sunset captured on a small, circular piece of tile. Liz can do nothing but stare at the incredible detail, the ocean waves made of so many different shades of blue, the beautiful sunset of orange and pink and purple, the tan sand painted with brushwork so fine that Liz feels she could sink her toes right in and sigh with pleasure.
Liz reaches blindly for Red's hand, unable to tear her eyes from the precious painting.
"I thought since you weren't interested in an exotic beach getaway this year," he murmurs to her, squeezing her hand. "I could bring a little bit of the beach to you."
That chokes her up, just poignant enough to be touching but not stale enough to be cheesy, and she's turning her head to kiss him without a second thought, taking care to put her feelings and thanks and love into it, one hand coming up to cradle his face while the other maintains a firm grip on her present.
Liz pulls back and gives him a watery smile.
"That day at the fair…" Liz whispers, stroking his cheek. "The stall of paintings…My story?"
Red nods.
"Oh," Liz gasps, letting out a tearful laugh. "I can't believe you remembered that."
Red just presses a kiss to her forehead. "Happy Valentine's Day, Lizzie."
A happy day it is, and Liz has certainly learned something important.
Red doesn't have to go out of his way to plan anything extraordinary.
And yet he can still manage to surprise her.