Valentine

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Valentine's Day, the greeting card industry, or Red Eye.

Summary: Pre-"Fireworks". Jackson forgoes Valentine's Day in exchange for a perfect first anniversary with his wife. Of course, things don't work out quite as planned… JxL. One shot. Pure holiday fluff.

It was their one year anniversary.

Valentine's Day was a greeting card company fabrication according to Jackson Rippner. But still, fearing his wife and her collection of pens and high-heels, he sent her flowers and a small box of chocolate on the day.

They never had a dinner on Valentine's Day. He always managed to be on a trip or bogged down at work on the day of, the day before, or the day after. Even when they were dating, he avoided it.

Instead, they celebrated their wedding anniversary, which was just a few days later anyways, as "Valentine's Day".

For their first anniversary, February 20th, Jackson planned several weeks in advance with the kind of precision and care he showed on jobs. Lisa was kept in the dark, just hoping her new husband wouldn't dare forget to at least take her out to dinner.

His reservations were made a month before and his suit taken to the dry cleaners the week of their anniversary. He picked out a new dress for his wife—a deep red, almost burgundy, that brought out the blonde highlights in her hair and covered her scar—two weeks before and wrapped it. He chose a matching tie for himself to go against his stark white shirt and black pin-stripe suit.

He placed orders for several dozen flowers and even booked a hotel room—a nice, five-star suite.

The first bouquet arrived at her work. It was a mixed bunch with a handful of roses and a card. Cynthia, her good friend from the Lux, and now her assistant brought it to her desk.

"Look at this! Someone's got an admirer…"

Lisa blushed. "It's probably from Jackson."

"He does know Valentine's was last week, right?"

"He sent me flowers at home for that."

"Uh huh," Cynthia rolled her eyes. "What'd he do wrong?"

"Nothing. Today's our anniversary."

"Really? Already?"

"One year, believe it or not."

"And you still haven't killed each other. Amazing."

Lisa picked up the card, ignoring her good friend. She read the printed words, smiling.

'Not nearly as lovely as you. Can't wait for tonight. JR'

"You're love-sick, Leese. I hope you know that," Cynthia remarked.

"Huh?"

"Nevermind."

A limo was waiting for Lisa when she got off work. Inside the limo's backseat were a box and a note.

'For my stunning wife and love. Wear this. JR'

She undid the red ribbon holding the box together. The dress inside caused her to gasp aloud. Pure silk brushed her fingertips. She'd known Jackson had money, but this—this was extravagant. There was a designer label on the collar. And underneath the dress, matching shoes, also a designer brand, and a small velvet box.

He'd thought of everything, her husband. Even jewelry. A diamond and ruby necklace, bracelet, and earrings.

"Oh, Jack… please tell me you didn't go broke…"

After changing in the backseat of the limo with the tinted partition up, Lisa settled into the backseat as they drove to pick up her husband.

Jackson climbed in with a second batch of flowers—red, white, and pink roses.

"This is too much," she said, taking the vase and leaning in to kiss him. "Way too much."

"Nothing's too much for you."

He gave her another kiss, a longer, more lingering one as the driver pulled away from the curb. She scooted closer to him, leaning up against his solid body. "Umm, you look good enough to eat in that dress…" he teased, nibbling on an earlobe.

"Really? I hope so… you certainly paid enough for it!"

"Leese, what's the point in being rich if I can't spoil the woman I love?"

"You do realize now you've set a very high standard for all future anniversaries, don't you?"

He nodded, giving her another kiss. "I enjoy the challenge."

Dinner, however, did not go according to Jackson's meticulous plan.

First, their reservations were lost. Second, they were relegated to back table near the kitchen, which smelled funny. And third, their food was messed up and sent back twice, undercooked a third time, and the wine had mold floating on the top.

Jackson asked for the manager.

In a voice, not unlike the tone he used on the rude man at the airport where they met, he said, "I understand that running a restaurant is time-consuming and difficult, especially at dinner time. However, that is no excuse for treating your customers like cattle, loosing orders, not properly cooking or storing food, and having what smells like a dead rat in your kitchen.

"Now, if I were to call the health department, I could make things very difficult. I could also let my colleagues know not to bother with your establishment for their business dinners or meals with their wives…"

The manager gulped. "Well, Mr. Ripper…"

"Ripp—ner," he purred, flashing those icey blues at him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Rippner. I will speak with my staff and your meal will be on the house."

"Actually, we're not feeling so hungry anymore, are we, Leese? Not after that one course moved…"

"Not at all," Lisa agreed; her voice nice and calm. It had been a part of her salad that moved suspiciously.

He helped her stand. Together, they walked out of the restaurant.

"Sorry about dinner," he said once they were in the limo.

"It's fine, really."

"No, it's not. I tried to make everything perfect—"

"I don't need perfect," Lisa said, touching her husband's cheek. "I have you. That's all that matters to me."

He half-smiled. "Are you sure about that?"

"Jackson, I love you. That's all that matters."

He grinned, touching her leg. "You sure?"

"Ask me again and I'll stab you with a pen."

"That's my girl…"

They crashed through the hotel room door at the same time, Lisa stripping off his jacket. She pulled him toward the bed by his tie, taking no time to notice the rose petals spread around the room or the lit candles. She had one goal at the moment.

Her husband had a similar goal as his hands found the zipper on her dress.

She kicked off her heels as they reached the bed. Lisa lay back, her fingers fumbling with his belt.

He groaned, his erection pressing against the fabric of his dress pants. "Leese…"

The buckle jingled as she dropped the leather strap to tug on his shirt. The buttons popped, scattering across the room. Neither of them carried as he slipped her out of her dress, leaving her in just her matching bra and panties.

"No fair…" she said.

Jackson pulled his t-shirt over his head, exposing his chest and a few scars, including the two put there by his wife and father-in-law. She sat up, kissing his lips before fingering and sucking on a scar.

"Leese…"

She yanked on his pants, helping ease the soft material over his narrow hips. He kicked them to the floor along with his shoes. Dressed in boxers, socks, and a tie, he hovered over the redhead.

"Shut up and kiss me."

Lisa pulled on the tie, bringing them closer on the bed.

He fiddled with the clasp of her bra, unhooking it behind her back. He tossed the lacy contraption off to the side.

Her hand slipped inside his boxers, stroking him, as he fondled and kissed her breasts. As always, he paid special attention to her scar, causing her skin to tingle.

Their breaths came in gasps and pants as Jackson slipped her panties off while she stripped him of his boxers.

"Jack!" she cried, their bodies melding together. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her hips angled up to meet him.

He kissed her, swallowing her cries, as they moved together.

Their love-making started off slow and tender, but thanks to Lisa's urging hips and moans, it became a fast and furious coupling.

They rolled across the silk sheets, alternating who was on top. Shouts and cries of pleasure echoed off the high ceilings. Neither of them cared.

Lisa screamed his name as they came together. She lay sprawled across his chest, her hair a wild, curly mess. Below her, Jackson panted, their skin thick with a sheen of sweat.

"Happy Valentine's…" she teased.

"No, no, my dear Leese… happy anniversary."

She kissed him, tongues twisting together.

"My one and only Valentine…" he whispered, his wife of a year cuddled close to his body.

Together they fell asleep, wrapped in each other's arms, blissfully unaware of the Valentine's Day tradition they'd begun. Fortunately, they didn't end up getting thrown out of a restaurant every year.

Author's Notes:

Originally, I intended to have this up for Valentine's Day, but life interfered in the form of sickness, ambulances, and school work. So here it is, just in time for our favorite couple's anniversary. Enjoy!