Work Text:
“I hate Valentine’s Day.”
Jake’s posture didn’t change as his statement filled your kitchen alongside the sizzle of uncooked batter hitting the pan. You wished you could say the same for yours. Smile slipping and shoulders slumping as you realized you had been getting your hopes up for someone like Jake, as chivalrous and kind as he had been these few months, to be as much of a hopeless romantic as you were. As if to accent your thoughts he added a damning, “It’s a consumer holiday.”
You swallowed a disappointed ‘oh.’ Then stepped around the breakfast counter into the kitchen to start setting the table. Jake gave the barest of a glance over his shoulder, but you made sure to turn your face away from him. Ever since the mess of a first date - or, rather, second date - where you broke down in tears at dinner, Jake had been the model of a perfect boyfriend. Sure he had an ego and would flirt with you at inappropriate times, but there was no denying that Jake was a gentleman at heart. He would bring flowers home just because. Every time the two of you went out he paid. Unless you put your foot down, then he would let you take the check. It opened the door to make that same joke about confidence being a good look on you.
A point you had begun to agree with. Having Jake Seresin in your life helped you grasp at the most basic staples in the concept of self-worth, particularly when it came down to relationships. Compromise did not mean turning a blind eye to your own wishes. Honest and open conversations were possible. Even more so, they were expected with Jake.
“I find it hard to believe,” Jake had said to you one night after a long day at work where the only time the two of you really had to talk was his impromptu sleepover. “That a woman like you spent so much time in a relationship and didn’t once stand her ground.” It wasn’t supposed to come off as rude as it had. That was just Jake. Blunt, coarse, and completely well-intentioned. That latter point was what you’d chosen to focus on.
“I don’t know what it is,” you had responded, tucking yourself in between his arms as far as you possibly could. “When I get into a relationship I forget that I can be my own person. I try too hard to be the perfect partner. Like I’m only allowed to be an extension of whoever I’m dating.”
Jake had merely brought a hand up to trace your face with his fingertips and said, “I love you, but I would rather break up with you than ever let you feel as though you were nothing more than an extension of me.”
And that’s how Jake Seresin first told you that he loved you. In the late hours of a night where, just a few hours before he’d shown up, you had been crying over not knowing why someone would date you in the first place. Feelings of doubt and inferiority clawing at your skin, desperately trying to find a way to burrow in deep. How could someone who had been proven to be unloveable time and time again suddenly get so lucky? Of course, you didn’t miss the way Jake had used the words ‘break up,’ but the fact was that you hadn’t gone into a spiraling mess of negative thoughts. Instead you let yourself cling to the knowledge that you were loved by someone you felt truly inclined to believe for the first time in your life.
A love that could last you through a lifetime of pancake breakfasts, you thought as you reached up in the cabinets to start pulling down plates but your mind still lingered in the after hours of that first ‘I love you.’ The only thing that brought you back to reality was Jake sliding up behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other reaching out to grab the plates you were fumbling with.
“What’s wrong, darlin’?” He asked.
A dismissive hum escaped you. Force of habit. Hey do you mind if I skip this intensive dinner you made to hang out with the guys? Hum. We can’t go out because work is so weird about us dating and without that paperwork from HR it’ll be hell to deal with. Hum. Thanks for giving me head, but I’m actually pretty tired now. I think I’ll just go to bed. Hum. Easier to avoid the conversation to confrontation pipeline. You had never been on the winning end of one in a relationship anyway. Jake had attempted to convince you otherwise, but biting loneliness in comparison to a tenuous companionship felt like too much of a step in the wrong direction.
Jake said your name softly. Your eyes fluttered closed at the gentleness in his voice. “Hey,” he said and you heard the clinking of plates being set on the counter next to you. “Talk to me.”
Arms opened, Jake used that to his advantage to swing you around to face him. You cracked an eye open. The hardest part about dating Jake was the talking. “Doll, if I did something, I want to know.”
Maybe because he always said shit like that. You felt the pressure of his thumb draw circles on your hip. This man had seen you naked. He had sat on the toilet while you took a bath just to talk. He’d mopped sweat from your brow and cleaned up puke when you had a stomach bug a few weeks ago. Yet nothing ever prepared you for the nervousness that kept creeping up during domestic moments like this where you were in his arms and he stared down at you with the look of a lovesick puppy.
No one had ever looked at you like you were their entire world. You could feel the entire weight of it on your shoulders.
“Valentine’s Day.”
He quirked his head. “What about it?”
“I’ve never celebrated it before.”
Before you could turn your face away, Jake repositioned so that his forehead was pressed against yours and his fingers were massaging the skin on your waist. “Doll, look at me.” He waited for you to meet his eye then prompted, “And?”
“It’s stupid, nevermind.”
“It’s never stupid if it means something to you, darlin’,” he said with that accent that made you weak in your knees. It was a good thing Jake was holding you up or you’d be nothing more than a puddle on the floor.
You bit down on your bottom lip. Embarrassment creeped up the back of your neck. “No one has ever done anything for me for Valentine’s Day.” You let out a sigh, but winced because it made you sound like more of a whiny high school girl. “I don’t know. I just thought - I’ve always wanted a cliche Valentine’s Day… gifts, chocolate, going out for dinner that’s way too expensive. With my other relationships there wasn’t much to celebrate… but with you, Jake, I want to.”
Jake smiled at you. That dazzling smile that made you nervous when you went out in public because it made you want to say something stupid.
“Okay,” he said then, at the confusion on your face, added, “We’ll go all out for Valentine’s Day this year.”
Guilt gnawed at your gut. He had sounded so adamant earlier in his dislike for the holiday. “But you said-”
He cut you off. “I say lots of stupid shit, doll. You really should know better than to listen to me by now.”
“I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to though, Jake.”
“I want to make you happy.” Jake leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. When he pulled away you asked, “Are you sure you’re okay with it?”
“Of course, I am. Where I’m from we go all out. Bigger the better in Texas.” You rolled your eyes at the cocky grin that settled onto his face. “It’s a compromise, darlin’. This year we go out and do every cliche imaginable. If it’s too much for me, I’ll say something. If it’s not what you imagined, you’ll say something. Then, next year, we can pick and choose whichever parts we liked and change what we don’t like. We’ll start a tradition that’s perfect for us. Sound good?”
You nod, matching his wide smile. “I would really appreciate that, Jake.”
“Plus, when would I pass up the opportunity to celebrate my girl?” He took a step back so your back pushed against the counter and he laid flush against you. “I like taking you. It gives me a chance to show everyone how much better I have it.”
You let out a laugh. “Jake!”
“I’m serious,” he said, kissing your cheek. Then trailed them across your jaw and down your neck. You weren’t paying attention too closely, too distracted by his tongue on your skin, but you could have sworn he ground gently into you. “I’ll celebrate you every day if you let me, doll.”
You tilted your head to the side. Jake jumped at the chance to press more kisses to the exposed skin on your neck. “I love you,” You told him, your voice between a breathy mound and a dreamy sigh.
In shock Jake jerked away from you.
And that’s how you first told Jake Seresin you loved him. And the moment you realized the pancakes on the stove had burned to a crisp. Jake had too many stars in his eyes to pull the pan from the stove. Not that you minded. Cleaning up the mess was the least you could do after he went through all the trouble - no, not trouble. He cooked, you cleaned.
A compromise. The hallmark of a healthy relationship. Something you did for someone you loved, and you really loved Jake Seresin.
Bonus:
“What the hell are you doing?” You glanced over to the other end of the counter at Jake. It was taking longer than expected to scrape the burnt bits of batter from the pan, which should have given him plenty of time to make a new breakfast plan. Except for the fact that he looked elbow deep in a crime scene.
“I’m making pancakes.” The batter in the glass bowl was a bright red. Alarmingly red, but Jake spoke as though you were supposed to know exactly what he was doing. “They’re going to be shaped like hearts.”
You shook your head at him, going back to scrubbing. “Try not to burn these ones then. That would be a bad omen.”
“Try not to distract me by being so damn beautiful.”
“Can’t promise anything.” You could feel his eyes on you.
“God,” he said, “You’re so fucking hot when you’re confident.”
You turned to look at him, catching his eye, and let a mimic of his smug smirk settle on your lips. “Focus on not burning my breakfast this time flyboy.”
He scoffed at the nickname but set his focus back on intensely stirring out the streaks of red dye in the batter. You didn’t even realize that you had food dye in your kitchen.
“Jake? You do realize Valentine’s Day is next week, right?”
“It’s not every day the love of your life tells you that they love you too. And if Valentine’s Day is celebrating your relationship, then every day is Valentine’s Day for me.”
“God, you’re so fucking hot when you use those cheesy lines like that on me.”
His eyes were on you again. Hotter this time. “Should we forget breakfast,” he asked. You slid your gaze back over to him. The pan splashed into the sink, splashing water up onto your his shirt.
“I have to go change this shirt,” you said in response.
Jake dropped the spoon. Globs of red batter splattered in all directions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were too busy racing him to the bedroom laughing in pure joy the entire way there.