He sat, staring at the floor, trying to become invisible. At least, as invisible as it is possible for a 6'4" striking, dark-haired male perched on a tiny, white wrought iron chair just outside the fitting rooms between Ladies Separates and Women's Intimate Apparel to be. In his broad, tanned hand he clutched a dainty, pink leather handbag that sported a design of hearts embroidered around the clasp. He looked lost among the racks and racks of feminine attire.

No self-respecting male wants to be seen perched on the 'hubby' chair outside a women's dressing room clutching one's significant other's purse. It's boring and uncomfortable, and just screams of being completely whipped. Or so his so-called friend's had just kindly informed him after they spotted him from across the store. They were on him like buzzards on carrion.

"Man, Masato, I cannot believe it. You're seriously holding her purse for her. That's so…sweet." Jinsei's inflection made it clear that by sweet he meant pathetic. "I guess since it's that serious, it's as well you finally got up the guts to give her the ring already."

With a snort, the troublemaker looked around, shoving a hand through his studiedly messy blond hair. Devilment gleamed in his cerulean blue gaze and he fluttered his eyelashes theatrically at his dark-haired comrade.

"What'd she say to get you to do it?" He mustered a faltering, breathy falsetto. "Just hold this for me for a sec, Honey… Or did she call you Sweetie, Satou-kun?" he warbled the cheap pun, blowing saccharine air kisses as he watched the dark man's lips tighten. "Darlin' or Baby, maybe?"

Perhaps it was cruel, but somehow Jinsei just couldn't help himself when faced with such an obvious comedown for masculinity. His friend was clearly wrapped around the pinky of his pretty, green-eyed fiancée so many times they could have used him for a Slinky. Not that it was exactly news, but…

"Oh shut it, Jinsei!" Masato tapped a foot agitatedly, glowering.

"Testy, isn't he," came the sly observation of another blond, strawberry-type, with cat-like green eyes and a smirk hovering around his lips. "Must be suffering from Valentine's day malaise." He tut-tutted, softly, like a doctor about to give a terminal patient the bad news.

"Well what can you expect?" Jinsei chuckled. "Instead of enjoying a proper Valentine's Day pampering, he's stuck waiting in the hubby chair while Makoto's in the dressing room."

"Honestly, I thought he of all people would have it made in the shade on Valentines. You know…that she'd whip him up one of those intimate dinners for two that she can do with her hand tied behind her back, and then one of those Better-than-Sex, Death-by-Chocolate cakes or something for dessert. Yet here he sits, long past supper. Alone. With the bags. And her purse. So sad."

"Yes, I agree. It's sad. Very, very sad." Stylishly coiffed waves danced as Zenjirou, after nodding gravely, threw back his head and laughed.

"You shut it too!" Masato glared at the shorter and slighter of the two men. Alone was looking good just then.

Both blonds considered, then rejected the suggestion, having decided that their friend had not suffered enough. Such an unusual opportunity might not present itself again, so they had to take full advantage while they could. It was practically their duty as men.

"So how long has this little expedition taken already?" asked Jinsei curiously. "Two hours? Three? More? Is Mako buying an outfit to go with each and every pair of those shoes I saw?"

When Masato remained stonily silent, they eyed the bulky pile of shopping bags sitting beside their friend's chair and nodded knowingly, as if there was no question about it. "She is. And worst of all, he's probably stuck paying for it too, as well as playing her personal Sherpa. There's no way that tiny handbag of hers could hold that much cash, after all, even if she could afford it."

Masato eyes snapped with anger at the continued ribbing and he stared broodingly at the blonds, biting his tongue. The blonds exchanged an amused glance that was as good as a high five. Masato was so easy to provoke sometimes, that it hardly seemed a challenge. But it was always great sport.

"You know," Zenjirou snickered, poking his victim in the shoulder until he grunted. "On Valentine's Day it's the girls are supposed to give the gifts, 'Sato. Candy and flowers and whatnot. Everyone knows that. Even Jinsei knows it."

"Right. Well you're both here instead of with Ami and Rei, so what does that say about you two?" Masato fired back, no longer able to hold his peace. "Or did they finally come to their senses and drop you two jackasses."

Zenjirou smiled that utterly insufferable little smirk that had always made Masato want to smack him. "Are you kidding? Even with her busy schedule, my dear Ami-chan spent most of today with me. She made me chocolate truffles with her own sweet, loving, talented little fingers. Truffle kisses with amaretto liqueur, per request." He smacked his lips and purred. "You know what they say about candy being dandy, but…"

He licked the tip of his thumb with a feline gesture, as if savoring the taste of nibbling chocolate from Ami's hand. "I'd still be enjoying them, except that Jinsei here showed up without calling first, – he snorted irritably– "and begged for my expertise in picking out personal electronics."

When Masato frowned, confused, he elaborated. "Rei, who for some reason had to be out of town tonight, of all nights, gave Jinsei a gift certificate for electronics for Valentines to amuse him. Or keep him out of trouble, more likely. But since we all know he doesn't know a microchip from a mushroom, I took pity on him and her and said I'd help him pick out something decent instead of a piece of junk. After all, even if her family's loaded, there's no sense in wasting Rei's money on any more cra…oooph!"

The condescending tone in Zenjirou's voice had been bound to draw eventual retaliation from Jinsei, and it suddenly had. A hard elbow jabbed the smaller man in the solar plexus, reminding him who was supposed to be on whose side and just who was supposed to being ganged up on. Zenjirou doubled over with a soft woof. He came up rubbing his belly and looking disgruntled.

"Don't pity me," crowed Jinsei, as he puffed out his chest like a peacock. "Let's be clear. Rei and her grandfather just had to go to an unfortunately scheduled retreat to represent the shrine. She'd be here if she could. And if we're telling tales, I believe you said that Ami been called into the hospital on an emergency before I got there." The 'so there' was left unspoken, but hanging in the air just the same.

He glanced back at Masato. "Anyway, my Firebird didn't just give me the certificate. She also had a bottle of fine, robust wine for us to share on her return, and a bouquet of flowers delivered to me with her love. Two dozen roses in my favorite color, Rei red, of course."

"That's a color?" scoffed Zenjirou.

"It is in my world," said Jinsei with a broad grin. "Especially when it matches those sultry lips of hers…and the sexy do-me pumps."

In a moment of rare unity, that comment elicited an eye roll from both of the other men. Some things just didn't need any elaboration.

"The gift certificate for the electronics was wrapped around the bottle's neck, under the bow," concluded Jinsei, with a broad grin of triumph. "Unlike some, my woman cares enough to see that I got something really choice."

"Hey!" sputtered Masato, his nostrils flaring at the implied slur against the extent of his woman's feelings for him. "Mako-chan's giving me a present too…"

"I'm sure she is." Jinsei cut him off, patting Masato's shoulder while assuming a superior look.

"Defensive much?" Zenjirou taunted, tossing his long copper and wheat colored queue back over his shoulder. "We've all seen how gone you are over Makoto. Your being here with that…" he gestured at the girly reticule. "Well, it just proves what we've known all along about who wears the pants in your relationship. You're among friends, so just admit it already."

Masato ground his back teeth and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was just what he'd needed, to be spotted by the pair of idiots. He'd be lucky if Zenjirou didn't put pictures of him with the silly pink purse up on the Internet. With friends like them, who needed enemies?

"Look, one last time for the record, Mako-chan is giving me a Valentine's present. But if doing shopping some special shopping today makes her happy, it's no skin off of my nose. When did this become a game of one-upsmanship, for Gaia's sake?" His grip tightened on the delicate reticule and there was an ominous cracking sound from within, most likely his fiancée's compact unfortunately taking the brunt of Masato's considerable force.

"I've got my reasons for what I do. Reasons which I wouldn't expect you two lightweights to understand."

Zenjirou made a gagging noise and screwed up his face. "I guess next you'll say it takes a real man to hold a purse."

"Would you even recognize a real man if you saw one, Zen?" Masato growled, keeping his voice low. "And why isn't Koichi riding herd on you two lackwits anyh…?" He broke off abruptly as two feminine voices were heard, one letting out a squeal of delight. Through some perverse acoustical fluke, every word therein was funneled to them as if the speakers were right next to them instead of behind closed doors.

"Oooh…perfect! I love how that dark lace looks contrasted against the champagne satin and my skin." A voice, unmistakably Makoto's, drifted out from the dressing room where she was talking with one of the specialty fitters. "It's the same cocoa-mocha color as my fiancé's hair," she admitted, sounding a bit sheepish. "I guess that's why I like it so well."

"I wasn't sure when you picked it out, but I'll have to admit I was wrong. Not everyone could wear those colors, Miss, but they work on you." It was the second voice, evidently that of the store clerk. "Here…let me take that other one from you, so you can do a proper turn before the mirror and really see how this one looks on you, Miss. Shall I put this with the others you've tried?"

"Yes, please. By the way, what color did you call that pale yellow chemise again?"

"Lemon drop, Miss. Or did you mean the lighter one from earlier? The one with the pearl detailing? That was called vanilla crème."

"No. I meant the lemon drop one. Thanks. I'll be taking it, by the way, and this. I think."

There was thoughtful silence for a moment, then a worried query. "You don't think it's too much, do you? I mean, I've already got the dresses and the shoes, the peppermint pink chiffon peignoir set, the caramel satin, and the silk chemise. And now this teddy. I don't want to push it. Tell me honestly…do you think it's too much?"

"Not at all." The clerk was emphatic, no doubt dreaming of the hefty commission check she'd lucked into when she'd approached the beaming brunette on the sales floor. "Every women secretly dreams of having a trousseau like this. You're a lucky woman that your fiancé can afford to buy it for you. He must be a generous and loving man."

"He is." A dreamy sigh wafted out from the fitting room. "And patient too, waiting for me all this time. Without so much as a peep of complaint."

It was immediately followed up by a bad-girl giggle. "Of course, he knows what he likes and he'll be the beneficiary since he's the one who'll be seeing me in it. Anyway, I think this last lot will put the sweet in his Valentine's Day, ne?"

The clerk chuckled wisely. "Some things are better than candy and flowers, Miss."

Makoto laughed. "Isn't that the truth? What the heck. I'll take the lot. But I'll need a larger cup size on the bra set."

"Of course, Miss."

"Oh, and could you bring me some pretty stockings too? Maybe seamed ones…or a fancy pair, with lace. I think they'd just go with this."

"I'll be right back with some, Miss. Excuse me just a moment."

A young saleslady emerged from the fitting room clutching a scandalously brief brassiere of gleaming satin in a warm pale brown that was just the color of fresh honey caramels. She promptly exchanged it, bringing back the proper size and a packet containing a pair of frilly, thigh-high hose. The fitter smiled in knowing fashion and winked at Masato before disappearing through the swinging doors to the changing rooms. "Your young man will love these, Miss," the three men heard her say.

"Oh yes, he certainly will. I've got plans," purred the unseen Makoto's voice once again, making Masato's eyes darken and glaze over for a second or two as he apparently re-visited a very pleasant memory.

The silence was deafening.

Jinsei had frozen, his next jibe having caught somewhere in his throat and died. Crystal blue and green eyes had widened in comprehension. Zenjirou's face was beet red as he swallowed hard, stared down at the carpet, and kicked out at a clothing rack.

Masato sucked in his cheeks and stuck an arm behind his head, reclining against the white lattice covered wall, his expression turning unutterably smug and very, very male.

"You lucky bastard," hissed both blonds, gnashing their teeth.

"As I was trying to say before I was so rudely interrupted," Masato grinned widely, swinging the rosy-hued purse dangling from a fingertip by its thin strap while Zenjirou and Jinsei's eyes followed its rhythmic sway hypnotically, like the pendant of a mesmerist, "Some Valentine gifts are sweeter than roses or candy kisses. And they say good things come to those who wait…"

Lemon drops and peppermints: 6400¥ on Mastercard.

Champagne and chocolate: 5900¥ on Mastercard.

Fancy caramels: 7000¥ on Mastercard.

The look on your woman's face when she realizes what your friends are picturing her wearing (or not): Priceless.

There are some things money just can't buy...

(Author's Note: In Japan men are given gifts, often chocolate, by women on Valentine's Day. A month later on White Day, March 14, is the day when men reciprocate by giving gifts to the women. And to all the infinitely patient men who hold the purses…you rock!)