She walked in to find his body on the lab floor, blood everywhere, smeared over his face and especially his bare chest where so much gore collected, she barely had the chance to hold down her gag. It smelled heinous: rotten, animal, feral, in that room, her eye watered.

She dropped everything in her hands.

Damnit, she already knew. She knew. He did this every single year and she fell for it every single time, too, but he'd been less responsive for the past week, seemingly distracted by things that weren't there. Her heart was in her throat and she was choking, running forward and trying to make sense of the situation, though just the sight of her boyfriend's chest being a ruinous cavity made her want to howl. She flashed back to the time when he couldn't even be trusted with a shaving razor without some kind of supervision. It's been years since then. But what if it really was genuine this time, unlike last year? Or the year before? She couldn't take the chance.

She ran forward, finding herself on her knees next to him, her hands shaking from sheer adrenaline alone while she conjured up the courage to touch him. There was a scalpel next to him, held loosely in his hand, so covered in visceral that she could barely make out the glint of the metal.

She bit her lip so hard she was sure she tasted copper, though she wasn't positive if it was from her, or just from inhaling in that room. Marie felt cold when he showed no signs of life, no heaving of that broken open chest she laid her ear down upon just the night before to listen in to his heartbeat. But now, he had no pulse she could detect.

There was a sob collecting on her tongue, heavy and weeping.

And then she saw it. The damn jar. With a happy, stitched up, yellow ribbon wrapped around it and an only slightly bloodstained card propped up beside. From his spot on the floor, Stein's lips cracked open enough to wheeze out "I…I give you…my heart," before he flopped, somehow, even further down to the floor.

Marie's eyelid twitched.

"You jerk! This better not be real blood, Franken!"

Though her punch on his shoulder was painful like nothing else, her face, squished up and pouting, eyes blazing, was just too good for him to regret it. His grin was crooked, all straight teeth, and stretching his facial scar. He said nothing to answer her, but she knew what the answer was.

She wrinkled her nose. "You're cleaning all of this up, you know that, right? Jerk."

He sat up, hands coming to peel whatever concoction or stage makeup he used to make it seem like he had an actual hole through his chest, a broken open sternum, and threw it to the side, scratching at the spot. His expression made it seem like her panic was worth every moment he'd spend making his lab sparkling again.

She should have known better, damnit. Last year, he laid sprinkles of blood like rose-petals all through the house, leading to their bedroom. When she got there, she found his wrist gushing blood all over their bed, the veins exposed, his eyes crazed and palm clamped over the gash in effort to slow the terrible flow of blood. He'd told Marie to get out, run, and then, in the voice that always made her insides liquefy, for her to help him.

She'd been horrified. She'd been so scared for him.

And then he laughed. Bastard. And some of it sprayed in her face and he'd licked her cheek and nuzzled her and told her she should have seen her face. Stupid, stupid man.

She made a noise of disgust when she stood up and saw the two spots of blood on her skirt from where knees hit the floor.

"You're doing the laundry, too!" she told him, rolling her eye and turning away from him

Stein came up behind her, arm wrapping around and transferring more blood onto her clothes, which she huffed at. He was chuckling into her ear, his head coming down so he could bury his nose in her hair.

"Happy Valentine's Day?"

"Why can't you just get me chocolate like everyone else?"

She felt his grin, the amusement in his voice. "Ah, but this is so much better!"

"Speak for yourself! I'm going to have a heart attack one of these days," she informed him, laying her hand over his arm and snuggling backward, melting to him. She looked at the jar, the heart floating in some strange liquid, and the card next to it. She couldn't see much on it save for the detailed, anatomically correct drawing, with severed ventricles and that same phrase Stein told her. "I give you my heart."

"You're a real sap," Marie informed, giggling when she thought of just how involved his joke was. Stein rubbed a small circle into her shoulder, saying nothing before he laid a kiss there, pulling away so she could turn around and set both hands on his chest.

She was thankful that she felt the steady pumping under her palm. He bent down to her far smaller frame to bump his nose against her own, smearing blood over her cheek. She pushed him halfheartedly.

"Gross! You need a shower."

Which, in turn, prompted him to rub his face all over her, laughing while she squealed.

Marie was wary all day. It was her fourth Valentine's Day with Stein and she was absolutely ready. Every turn of the corner, every jump-scare, she was prepared, damnit.

However, there were no dead mice anywhere. No blood, no veins, no organs in their fridge. He seemed…nervous, and jittery, though. But it had been all day and still nothing to make her go into cardiopulmonary arrest.

The only thing out of the ordinary was when he told her they were going to a restaurant. She'd looked at him with suspicion, but he only snorted, showing her proof of their reservation before walking out of the room, telling her they had to be there in just a few hours.

Ooooh. Maybe he was planning on pranking her in public? Well, she'd show him. Smirking, she stepped into her shower, a plan coming to fruition in her head.

He heard Marie's screech immediately, it flooded the room, flooded his ears, his brain. Pained and broken.

His eyes widened behind his glasses, feet moving of their own volition while he whirlwinded through his lab, finding his way to the bathroom where he knew she last was. Inside, there was the sound of whooshing air, which was revealed to be the hairdryer when he threw the door open. His breath hitched in his throat, lungs shriveling and insides going cold when he rushed to her felled body, convulsing on the floor. To the side, the chord of the damn hairdryer was frayed, an exposed wire hissing and sparking.

He fell to his knees, hauling her damp body up to better analyze what he could do. When he looked at her face, her eye was unfocused, rolling around in the socket. She was in spasms, thrashing in his hold, breathing unsteady, whimpering.

But then, suddenly, he was confused.

It didn't make sense. Marie was a natural conductor and insulator, both; she shouldn't be affected by a random live wire. For her to be electrocuted, it would take mass levels of power, to the point where she would simply combust. She had weapon blood and she utilized lightning.

But maybe…it could have been the water. And she wasn't wearing the heavy, woolen clothes that usually helped insulate her further. Damnit! He didn't have the time to sit around and doubt what was happening! He had to check her for burns, for delirium. His hand found her wrist, looking for a steady pulse. If it was irregular, he'd have to defibrillate her.

His other hand shook when he pushed her hair out of her face and off her neck, fingers locating her jugular as well, and her eye locked onto one of his own while she raised her trembling fingers to his cheek. He swallowed, hard, fumbling just a bit at finding her pulse-point.

"F-Franken…" she said, sweet voice hoarse while her eyelid drooped, her spasms calming to tremors.

He felt a small jolt, right where his facial stitches were, as Marie loved to trace over that particular scar. He took a deep breath in, trying to catalogue her for injury before her voice cut in, once again.

"Darling…can't you feel the…sparks…between us?" she asked, and just like that, her shaking ceased, but he felt another small, deliberate shock on his face and she burst into a happy, albeit mischievous, grin.

He stared at her, his heart beating double time with the adrenaline. She blinked up at him, sweetly, her teeth showing from how wide her smile went. His dress pants were wet from where he'd heaved her body against him, shirt soaked from cradling her and where her hair spilled over. He could only look at her, astonished. Amazed. And he couldn't really think, coming down from that panic, so it took him a second to register what he said.

"Marry me."

Her eye widened. "W-what!?"

The room went still and it hit him.

Whoops. That wasn't exactly how it was meant to go. He just…couldn't really help it. She'd tricked him, the sneaky woman. He'd been impressed.

It wasn't like he could go back, besides. 'Oh, screw it.'

"Marry me," he paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath. "Please?"

Her mouth was hanging open, body entirely still. Stein stared down at her, realizing that he, maybe, just absolutely ruined his proposal, Valentine's Day, all that jazz. Spirit was the one who told him that women wanted to have it be romantic: a speech, a special day, a restaurant.

No grotesque pranks. Certainly not just a quick declaration. Spirit would probably bring his palm to his forehead if he found out it took place in Stein's bathroom, with that damn hair dryer still whirring away. Stein kicked it, jolting Marie slightly when it came free from the electrical socket and skittered out into the hall.

He seemed to fail on almost every base that Spirit told him not to fail on.

Oh, but the ring! The ring. He had that much, at least. Stein swallowed, reaching into his pocket and fishing the box out, meeting Marie's gaze, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything more other than "Marie?"

"Is this…a joke?" she asked, her breathing speeding up, hands fisting his shirt when he brought the velvet box to her eye-line. He just shook his head, once, and with shaking hands, this time, having nothing to do with being electrocuted, though everything to do with being shocked, she opened it, taking note of the band inside.

She inhaled sharply through her nose, delicately plucking the entire thing, box and all, out of his hand and down onto the sink counter, before turning back to him, his pulse throbbing in his ears.

"Marie-"

She all but tackled him to the ground, arms around his neck, and he fell back, nearly braining himself on the shower-tub.

"Marie! Marie, what are you- oh. Ooooooooh."

.

.

.

"I guess that means 'yes'."

Dolly's here and she's still as obsessed as ever. (Send help)