Jason Martínez (Valentines day edition)

The fluorescent lights of the convenience store hummed, casting a sterile glow on the Valentine's Day candy aisle. You stood there, slightly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of pink and red, a small smile playing on your lips. It had only been a few months, but things with Jay felt... different. Not in a bad way, just... softer, like the edges of his usual sharpness were starting to blur around you. A gruff voice cut through your thoughts. "Whatcha lookin' at, mì amor?" You turned to see Jay leaning against a shelf stacked with heart-shaped boxes, his usual black long-sleeve peeking out from under a slightly less-dark red t-shirt than usual. Even his face paint seemed a little less severe today, maybe a touch less jagged. He still smelled faintly of cigarettes, but there was a hint of something else too... maybe cologne? "Just trying to decide what kind of torture I want to inflict on you with my sugary affections," you teased, reaching for a bag of chocolate hearts. He pushed himself off the shelf, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Torture, huh? Sounds about right for this corny-ass holiday." He sauntered over and snagged the bag from your hand, examining it with a critical eye. "Nah, too... pink. We're gettin' somethin' darker." He led you down the aisle, his hand brushing against yours. It was a small gesture, something he hadn't done much in the beginning. Now, these little touches were becoming more frequent, less hesitant. He stopped in front of a display of dark chocolate truffles. "These look more your speed," he mumbled, grabbing a box. "And yours?" you countered, raising an eyebrow. You knew he wasn't a big fan of overly sweet things. He shrugged, a rare hint of vulnerability flickering in his green eyes. "Figured... if you like 'em..." A warmth spread through your chest. It was a small thing, a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes. This was Jay trying. Making an effort, even if it went against his usual gruff exterior. Later that evening, you were curled up on his surprisingly comfortable couch in his cluttered apartment. He'd even managed to tidy up a bit, a small miracle in itself. A half-eaten pizza sat on the coffee table alongside the box of dark chocolate truffles. Jay was uncharacteristically quiet, flipping through channels on the TV. You watched him, noticing the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the slight twitch of his fingers. "Penny for your thoughts?" you asked softly. He glanced at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he looked back at the screen. "Just... this whole damn holiday. It's stupid." "Maybe," you conceded, leaning your head on his shoulder. "But it's also a day to show people you care about them." He tensed slightly, then relaxed. He didn't pull away. After a moment, he spoke, his voice rough around the edges. "Yeah, well... I guess I care about you, dumbass." It wasn't a flowery declaration, no grand romantic speech. It was Jay, raw and unfiltered. And it was perfect. A little while later, after another episode of some ridiculous cartoon you both used to watch, Jay shifted beside you. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, slightly crumpled piece of paper. He unfolded it and handed it to you. Scrawled in his messy handwriting were a few lines: "Roses are dumb, violets are okay, Being with you ain't completely cliché. So here's some shitty words, hope they do the trick, Happy Valentine's, you weird little prick." You couldn't help but laugh, a genuine, heartfelt sound. It was so him. Rude, a little sweet, and undeniably Jay. "You wrote me a poem?" you asked, your voice filled with amusement. His cheeks flushed slightly under his face paint. "Shut up. Don't make a big deal out of it." You leaned over and kissed him, a slow, tender kiss. When you pulled back, you smiled. "It's perfect, Jay." He grumbled something under his breath, but there was a hint of a smile playing on his lips too. He reached out and pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around you a little tighter than usual. Later, after a few beers and a surprisingly engaging conversation about his step-siblings, Jay was starting to get a little... loose. He leaned in close, his breath smelling faintly of alcohol and pizza. "Mami," he slurred, his Spanish thick and heavy. "You look... muy bonita tonight." (very pretty) You chuckled. "Someone's had a little too much beer." He nuzzled his face into your neck, his sharp teeth surprisingly gentle. "Te quiero," (I love you) ,he mumbled, the words a little slurred but undeniably there. "A lot." Your heart did a little flutter. It wasn't the first time he'd said it, but it still felt significant. He was letting you in, showing you the softer parts of himself, the parts he usually kept hidden behind layers of aggression and sarcasm. The night wasn't filled with grand gestures or fairytale romance. It was messy, a little rough around the edges, and entirely, wonderfully Jay. And as you lay there with him, the faint smell of cigarettes and something uniquely him surrounding you, you knew this was just the beginning of something real, something that felt like it could last, even with all its beautiful imperfections.