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Valentine’s week doesn’t really announce itself anymore. It just…shows up.
It’s there in the drugstore aisle Tina passes on her way home, shelves already pink and red and overfilled with things that promise romance in capital letters. It’s there in the calendar notification Bette deletes without thinking and then reopens ten minutes later, just to look at the date again. It’s there in the way they both hesitate, just slightly, whenever the topic almost comes up.
Four years - Not the kind of number that feels fragile, or the kind that needs proof. But also not the kind that marks a typical milestone like a first, a fifth, a tenth even.
They wake up together every morning. They argue about groceries. They steal each other’s clothes without asking. They say I love you in the dark, half asleep, without a big gesture. Anytime one of them shows up without the other, the first question out of everyone's mouth is “Where’s your other half?”
Which somehow, apparently, makes Valentine’s Day harder. They don’t need that showy kind of love anymore, the one that feels just a little bit for everyone else - because what they share now is that safe, only for them lived-in kind of love.
Bette notices it most when Tina isn’t trying. Like on a Monday morning - Tina is barefoot in the kitchen, hair still damp from the shower, wearing one of Bette’s old shirts (the soft one, the one that barely smells like Bette anymore because Tina has claimed it so thoroughly.) She’s humming under her breath, moving around the space like it belongs to her.
Because it does. Or rather, it belongs to them. Which is even better.
Bette leans against the counter, coffee cooling in her hands, and feels something press against her chest - not anxiety or excitement exactly, but the weight of love that’s grown steady and enormous.
What do you do for a love like this?
She’s always known how to mark things. Always been great at making moments feel elevated and worthy. But this doesn’t feel like a moment that needs elevating. This feels like something sacred because it’s ordinary. But ordinarily perfect.
She watches Tina laugh at something on her phone and thinks, I want to make her feel special.
Again. Always. Forever and ever.
Tina, meanwhile, argues with herself in the car later. She’s stuck at a red light, fingers tapping absently against the steering wheel, her mind looping back to the same thought it’s had all morning: Do we do something?
She loves how settled they are now. Loves that love no longer feels like something she has to reach for. It’s just…there - solid and warm like the press of Bette’s hand on the small of her back.
But Valentine’s Day has always carried expectations - hers, Bette’s, everyone else’s. She doesn’t want to turn it into a performance, doesn’t want Bette to feel like she has to impress her anymore. She impresses her by existing by now.
She also doesn’t want Bette to feel uncelebrated.
God, Tina thinks, smiling to herself, I love her so much it’s inconvenient.
***
They finally talk about it Tuesday night.
It’s late, they’ve already eaten, settled in for the night. Tina’s curled sideways on the couch, feet tucked under Bette’s thigh, her head resting against Bette’s shoulder. A half-finished bottle of wine sits forgotten on the coffee table. The TV murmurs quietly, some show they always turn on but never pay attention to because they would rather focus on each other.
Tina traces idle patterns on Bette’s arm.
“So,” she says, voice light, casual. “Valentine’s Day is coming up.”
Bette hums. “I heard.”
Tina smiles at that. She shifts slightly, buying herself time.
“I was thinking…” She pauses, then continues more deliberately. “This isn’t like…a big one, right?”
Bette tilts her head. “Fourth isn’t big?”
“You know what I mean.” Tina lifts her head to look at her. “We’re not proving anything anymore. We’re not new.”
Something warm settles in Bette’s chest at that.
“No, we’re not,” she says softly.
“And we love each other so deeply every day, so I thought maybe…we don’t have to make a whole thing out of it. We could just keep it simple. I don’t want you to feel like there’s crazy expectations to impress anymore.”
Bette studies her face, searching for subtext.
“First of all, I will always want to do crazy things to impress you,” She says while pressing a kiss to her forehead. She pulls back, “But, you’d really be okay with that?”
Tina nods. “I think I’d actually really like it.”
A pause stretches between them - not uncomfortable, just thoughtful. Like they both know it feels more like them, but it still feels foreign.
“Casual, low pressure. Just us loving each other like always.” Bette says slowly.
“Exactly.”
“And no expectations.”
“Yes.”
Bette exhales. “Okay.”
Tina smiles, relief softening her shoulders. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Bette confirms.
They seal it with a kiss, Tina’s hands finding the familiar curls, holding her close. Bette wrapping her up like the only gift she’s ever needed.
“No gifts,” Tina adds gently, like she read Bette’s mind. “You always get me too much.”
Bette laughs quietly. “Okay, woah. You’re the one who always goes overboard.”
“I just love you,” Tina says, shrugging.
Bette presses her forehead to Tina’s. “And I love you. Deal. No gifts this time.”
They pinky swear like it’s a sacred ritual, kissing their hands to take it a step even further.
***
By Friday morning, Valentine’s Day Eve, Bette begins her spiral. She’s standing in her office, staring at a blank wall, imagining Tina’s face if Valentine’s Day passes without anything to mark it.
She said she’d be okay, Bette tells herself. She meant it. Right?
Still, sometimes love makes you do irrational things. Bette knew that all too well, probably better than anyone.
That’s how she finds herself on the computer placing an order, paying way too much for same day delivery. She sends a text to Tina, saying she has to work late tonight. James is on the phone within seconds.
“James,” she says the moment he answers. “I need a favor.”
James sighs. “What is it?”
“I need the back room cleared.”
“The storage room?”
“Yes.”
“For what purpose?”
“For Tina.” She says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
James pauses. “What?”
“For Valentines Day. Just…Can you help me?”
“How much time do we have?” James dares to ask.
“Not enough.”
Within minutes, the gallery is a controlled disaster. Bette stands in the middle of the space, arms crossed, issuing instructions with barely contained intensity.
“No - that wall has to be fully visible.”
“I don’t care if the frames are similar, they’re not right. Go find more.”
“I need lighting. Soft, warm. Absolutely nothing harsh about it.”
A delivery arrives within a few hours - large prints, carefully wrapped. James watches Bette tear into them like it’s Christmas morning. Photographs spill out - Moments. Memories. Them, captured.
James lifts one without asking. “This one’s beautiful.”
Bette lights up immediately. It’s a candid of Tina laughing, head thrown back, Bette just visible in the frame (clearly the reason for the laugh.)
“That one goes in the center,” Bette says quietly. “Everything else builds around it.”
James smiles to himself.
The room becomes lined with moments that feel like them. A picture from the first gallery opening Tina attended with her. A picture Alice snapped of Bette taking a picture of Tina at one of her premieres, a beaming proud look on her face. A close-up of Tina curled in their bed, sleepy, dazed look on her face. Them at the beach, the planet, anywhere and everywhere.
Bette steps back, chest tight. “It has to show her how loved she is,” she murmurs. “She deserves that.”
James doesn’t tease her. He just nods, getting back to work. After hours of adjusting, when everything is finally to her liking, Bette stands in the middle of the room wearing her heart on her sleeve. Surrounding her is her life, her love, her everything. She pulls her phone out to call in a favor she's owed at one of her and Tina’s favorite restaurants, putting the finishing touches on a last minute plan she’s come to be very proud of.
***
Tina sighs a breath of relief upon receiving a text that Bette is working late, no need to make an excuse for herself. Not because she’s hiding something malicious - but because she’s hiding something tender, and tenderness feels fragile when it’s still in progress.
The editing suite is dim except for the glow of three monitors. The producer she’s roped into helping her - Sophie, kind and patient, already emotionally invested despite herself - scrolls through the shared folder Tina built over the last two days when she began feeling her own form of anxiety, built from the thought of Valentine’s Day showing up and no tangible evidence to show Bette she loves her.
Clips. Photos. Voice memos. Random videos pulled from old phones and cloud backups. Their life, fully digitized.
“You weren’t kidding,” she murmurs. “You’ve documented…everything.”
Tina smiles faintly, curling her knees up in the chair. “Not intentionally. I just…didn’t want to forget anything. She’s a vision I want to keep forever.”
She opens a clip at random. It’s Bette in the kitchen - flour on her cheek, hair falling in her face, looking deeply offended at something off-camera.
“I said fold, not stir!” Tina’s voice laughs from behind the camera.
Bette points the spatula at the camera. “It’s the same thing.”
“It’s not the same thing, and that’s why I don’t usually allow you in the kitchen.”
Sophie glances at Tina. Her eyes already glassy with tears.
“Do you want to cut that one?” she asks gently.
She shakes her head immediately. “No. That one stays.”
They keep going. Beach footage - wind beating loud, Tina pressed into Bette’s side, then running away from her straight into the ocean while Bette lets out a laugh that sounds like love personified. A blurry selfie from a road trip where neither of them is looking at the camera because they’re laughing too hard. A quiet clip of Bette reading on the couch, Tina’s socked feet in her lap.
Tina presses pause on that one. “She didn’t know I was filming,” she says softly. “She just…looked peaceful. Like home. I love remembering her that way.”
Sophie doesn’t respond, she just lets the silence hold. When they near the end, she pauses on a clip of Bette looking at her, not posed or aware, just full, open adoration.
Her eyes fill again.
“She looks at you like that a lot,” Sophie says gently.
“I know,” Tina whispers.
When all the clips are chosen and edited, Tina insists on adding a voiceover - a personal choice she knows Bette will appreciate. She steps into the booth, headphones settling over her ears, script abandoned in her hand. She doesn’t read, she just speaks, straight from her heart to Bette's ears.
“I used to think love was supposed to feel like falling…but loving you felt like arriving. Like being with you was exactly where I was meant to be all along. Like I was made for loving you, and you were made for loving me.”
Her voice breaks halfway through, but they keep it anyway. By the time they finish assembling it - music and voiceovers threaded carefully through their history - Tina is openly crying. She laughs through it, embarrassed but not apologetic.
“I just love her,” she says simply.
Sophie nods. “Yeah. This is really the kind of love you see in the movies.”
She exports the final video to her phone, clutching it like something sacred.
On the drive home, she calls a coworker, the one who’d recommended a private dinner cruise back when she’d first been planning Valentine’s Day. She gets the number, along with all the details, and makes the call to book it for tomorrow night. As she listens to the confirmation, she can’t help but think about how much Bette loves being on the water - the quiet, the stillness, the way it seems to soften everything around her. More than anything, she just wants to see that peaceful smile on her face, the one that makes all the planning feel worth it.
***
By the time Saturday evening arrives, the air between them feels charged. Not tense or harsh exactly, but anticipatory. Like both of them are holding balloons they’re trying not to pop. Bette has changed outfits twice. Tina has reapplied her makeup three times without admitting why.
They orbit each other all afternoon.
Tina tries first. “You should wear something nice tonight,” she says casually from the doorway.
Bette glances up from the couch. “Why?”
Tina shrugs. “No reason. I just…like when you do.”
Bette narrows her eyes slightly, but lets it go easily enough. Until an hour later. “So I was thinking we should head out around six.”
Tina looks up sharply. “Head out where?”
Bette shrugs too quickly. “Just somewhere. I want to go somewhere.”
They both know something is happening now, but neither asks more questions, like they're trying to preserve their future plans.
By six, they’re standing near the door - both dressed up, both trying to pretend it’s accidental.
Bette grabs her keys.“Come on,” she says. “We’re going to be late.”
Tina doesn’t move. “Late for what, Bette?”
“Just trust me.”
“I do trust you,” Tina says, laughing nervously. “But you’re being weird.”
“I’m not being weird.”
“You are being extremely weird.”
Bette exhales, frustrated. “I just want tonight to go right.”
Tina stills. “We said we weren’t doing anything.”
The words land heavy, no avoiding the topic anymore.
Bette closes her eyes briefly. “…I may have made a reservation.”
Tina blinks hard. “You did?”
Bette nods slowly. “Private room at our favorite restaurant?” She says like a question she hopes Tina will say yes to.
Tina just winces. “…I booked a dinner too.”
Silence. Then - simultaneous realization.
“You did?”
“You did?”
They both laugh, tension cracking instantly.
“Wait,” Bette says, stepping closer, hands coming to rest at Tina’s waist with a squeeze. “What did you book?”
“A private boat dinner,” Tina admits, smiling shyly, looping her arms around Bette’s shoulders. “Candlelit. Water view. Because you love the water at night. You said it gives you a peaceful mind.”
Bette’s face softens completely. “You did that for me?”
“Of course I did that for you.”
Bette laughs breathlessly, a little shock from the realization. She figures she can come clean now. “I might have also turned the back room of the gallery into a shrine of us.”
Tina’s mouth falls open. “You what?”
“Photos. Canvases. Collages. I had them delivered. James and my entire staff think I’ve lost my mind. We literally didn’t do anything else today.”
Tina runs a hand down Bette’s face gently, cupping it in her palm. “You made a whole room for me?”
“For us,” Bette corrects gently. “I’d make a whole museum of us if I could.”
Tina’s eyes shine. “Well, I guess if we’re sharing…I made you a video,” she says softly. “Of our whole relationship.”
Bette’s eyes sparkle now. “You did?”
“It took all night. I recruited Sophie to help me edit. Thank god you said you were going to be late first, I couldn’t come up with a good excuse.”
Bette shakes her head in disbelief. “We infiltrated our workplaces.”
Tina laughs through tears. “We really did. All because we panicked and broke our own promises.”
They stand there, looking at each other like they’re seeing something brand new. Not quite the love itself, rather the reflection of it.
“You know me so well,” Tina whispers.
“You know me better,” Bette says back.
They lean in, foreheads touching, pressing a gentle kiss to each others lips.
“I don’t want to leave,” Tina admits quietly against her lovers lips.
Bette exhales. “Neither do I. All I want is you, this close to me forever.”
So they cancel everything.
The boat.
The restaurant.
All of it.
They head to opposite rooms to make the calls, apologizing profusely for canceling at the last minute. They don’t actually feel bad.
“Baby?” Tina hesitates when Bette walks back into the living room.
“Yes, my love?”
“Do I still get to see my exhibit?”
Bette sits on the couch, pulling Tina’s thighs over her lap, wrapping her arms around her waist so they’re face to face. She places a quick kiss to her lips, “Of course. We can go later or I can tell everyone to take tomorrow off and we can spend as long as you’d like in our little world?”
Tina’s face lights up in a smile, immediately nuzzling her nose against Bette’s. “Tomorrow would be perfect. Then I get you to myself all day.”
They sit in a comfortable silence for a few heartbeats, trading light kisses and tracing fingers across each other’s skin.
“So what about my video? Do I have to wait until tomorrow for that too?” Bette asks.
Tina grins. “You are one lucky lady Bette Porter, because I just so happen to have it on my phone, which means you get to see it right now if you’d like.”
Bette pulls back a little to look Tina directly in the eyes. “I am the luckiest girl in the world.” She swiftly pushes Tina back, maneuvering them so they are laying on the couch together, Tina laughing from being caught off guard at her lover's quick movements. “Show me.”
“Okay, okay, someone’s eager,” She says still laughing. She pauses before she picks up her phone from the coffee table, “But I might cry again.”
“Good,” Bette murmurs, wrapping her arms tight around Tina again. “I want to see everything you felt making it.”
They curl together, Tina tucked into Bette’s side, phone balanced on Bette’s thigh.
The video begins. Soft piano music. A photo fades in - their first one together, awkward and shy.
Bette smiles immediately. “You kept that?”
“I keep everything. You’ll see”
Many cooking fails from Bette. Tina asleep in the car, Bette commenting on how cute she looks, how she misses her and she’s only asleep. Them dancing in the kitchen, recorded secretly by Shane.
They laugh out loud at one where Bette tries to dip Tina and almost drops her.
“I saved you!” Bette defends.
“You almost killed me.”
Then the tone shifts - slower clips, deeper moments. A quiet video of Bette walking along the beach, slowly towards Tina, like she’d found everything she was ever looking for. A voiceover begins - Tina’s voice, soft, intimate: “I never knew what it felt like to be completed until I met you, Bette Porter. You are, and will forever be, the person who makes me whole.”
Bette’s breath catches. She tightens her arm around Tina, tilting her head to rest her lips on her forehead, but eyes staying forward like she can’t miss a second.
When a clip plays of Bette working in their garden outside - completely serene, then noticing Tina and pausing to smile like her heartbeat sped up - Bette murmurs, “I didn’t know you filmed that.”
“I film you when you’re not performing,” Tina says. “That’s when you’re most beautiful.”
By the end, both of them are crying. Bette fully turns and kisses the top of Tina’s head, then grabs her face to press a full kiss to her lips.“That was the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”
“It wasn’t a gift, because we said no gifts, remember?” Tina insists weakly.
“It absolutely was, and I’m glad you broke our rule.”
***
Later, wine loosens everything, the joy of just being together bubbling at the surface. They end up in the kitchen, barefoot, slightly tipsy, warm with emotion.
“What do we even eat?” Tina asks, opening the fridge.
“Leftovers,” Bette decides. “Romantic.”
They eat standing at the counter, sharing bites off the same fork, hands intertwined and hanging down. Music plays softly from Tina’s phone. Tina decides on strawberries when rummaging for dessert, Bette insisting they had to have something “Valentiney” in there.
“Oh,” she perks up. “We have these.”
“And chocolate,” Bette adds, a hint of mischief weaving through her eyes.
Bette heats up the chocolate on the stove while Tina prepares the strawberries and pours them more wine. Soon the kitchen smells sweet and rich, reflective of the love being shared in it. Tina dips the first strawberry and holds it up. “Open.”
Bette bites - chocolate smearing at the corner of her mouth.
Tina laughs. “You’ve got-”
Before she can finish, Bette wipes it with her thumb… then deliberately smears more across Tina’s cheek.
“Bette!”
“You looked too clean.”
Tina gasps, dipping another strawberry and retaliating, pressing chocolate against Bette’s jaw. They dissolve into laughter, chasing each other around the island. At one point, Bette catches Tina around the waist and lifts her onto the counter. Tina squeals, breathless, legs instinctively wrapping around Bette’s hips. The laughter fades, replaced by something slower. Chocolate still on their fingers and faces, wine on their breath. Bette steps between Tina’s knees, hands settling on her thighs.
“You’re messy,” she murmurs.
“You like it when I’m messy.” Tina flirts back. “And you started it.”
“Mmm yes I do. And I regret nothing.”
Tina pulls her closer by the collar. Their kiss starts soft and chocolate-tasting, then quickly deepens, into an unspoken need that exists between them at all times. Bette’s hands squeeze hard at Tina’s waist. Tina tilts her head, fingers in Bette’s hair. Bette licks at her jaw and around, all remnants of chocolate far gone. They kiss like they have nowhere to be, because the only place they belong right now is with each other. When they finally part, foreheads resting together, Tina smiles lazily.
“This is better than any dinner reservation.”
“Infinitely better.”
They stay like that a moment longer - breathing each other in.
“So just to recap, we did in fact break all of our rules. Except, wait - I guess you followed the no gift rule? If you’re counting my video as a gift, which I think is unfair.”
Bette freezes for half a second too long.
“Yeah,” she says quickly. “Of course.”
Tina leans back slightly, studying her face with playful suspicion. “Bette Porter.”
“I’m serious.”
“You know you can’t lie to me when you have that look in your eyes. I see right through you.”
Bette groans quietly, obviously caught. “I….okay! I panicked,” Bette admits, hands up in surrender. “I couldn’t not get you something. It’s small I promise!”
Tina tries to hold her annoyed face but fails instantly, that pout on Bette’s face will make her fold in a second. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I just love you.”
Tina wraps her legs around her even tighter, cupping her face, kissing her slow and warm.
“I know. I love you too.” She kisses her again with passion, hands moving to find her shirt, grip strong. “How about you take me up to our bed and I give you another gift?”
Bette pulls back in a smirk. “If you insist, Miss Kennard.”
She pulls Tina off the counter in an instant, Tina’s legs holding strong around her as she giggles and kisses Bette as she tries to walk them up the stairs. When they finally reach their room after making a few stops along the way to get lost in each other’s lips, Bette places Tina down on the bed and takes a step back to look at her.
She drinks her girlfriend in, forever in awe of the beautiful sight before her. When Tina moves up towards the pillows, that’s when Bette notices a small gift box wrapped neatly and placed on her nightstand.
“Tina, baby? What’s that on my nightstand?”
Tina pushes herself up sheepishly, eyes full of mischief and love all wrapped up in one. “I panicked?” She says, mimicking Bette’s earlier comment.
They both burst into laughter, officially realizing all their rules had been broken - and they wouldn’t want it any other way.