NOVEL NEXT Chapter 94: Gaz
The biting wind whipped around Y/N as she hurried down the cobbled street towards the pub. February hung heavy in the air, all slush and grey skies, but inside, a warmth bloomed in her chest. It was Valentine's month, and tonight, she was meeting Gaz.
Their relationship was a carefully guarded secret, a stolen sliver of sweetness amidst the harsh realities of Task Force 141. Sharing the same line of work meant stolen moments, hushed phone calls, and the understanding that duty always came first. But even a hardened soldier craved normalcy sometimes, and Gaz, bless his pragmatic heart, had proposed a month of low-key Valentine's celebrations.
The dimly lit interior of the pub offered a welcome respite. The air hummed with the gentle murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses. Y/N spotted him instantly, tucked away in a corner booth. His dark hair was neatly styled, and he'd traded his combat boots for scuffed leather ones. He looked… surprisingly relaxed.
"Sorry I'm late," Y/N said, sliding into the booth.
Gaz grinned, the crinkles around his eyes deepening. "You're right on time. Bought you a pint." He gestured to the frothy glass waiting on the table.
"Thoughtful as always," she murmured, picking it up. The familiar hoppy scent grounded her, a pleasant contrast to the anxiety she usually carried.
Their "celebrations" had been simple. A shared takeout pizza on movie night, a surprise bouquet of her favorite lilies (courtesy of Soap, who'd looked deeply uncomfortable delivering them). Tonight was their official "Valentine's Dinner," a far cry from the romantic dinners most couples enjoyed, but perfect for them.
"How was your day?" Gaz asked, his voice low.
Y/N sighed. "Debriefing after that op in Chechnya. You know the drill. Stacks of paperwork, endless questions. It's good we're back stateside for a bit, though."
He nodded, his brow furrowing with concern. "Glad you're safe."
The conversation flowed easily between them, skirting around the specifics of their work, filled with shared jokes and quiet observations. They talked about silly things - the terrible reality TV show Price was obsessed with, the best place to get fish and chips in London, the surprisingly good coffee at the base cafeteria.
As they ate their shepherd's pie - ordered on Gaz's suggestion, claiming it was "proper comfort food" - Y/N noticed a flicker of something in his eyes, a vulnerability she didn't often see.
"Y/N," he began, then hesitated. "I... I wanted to give you something."
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. Her breath hitched. She knew Gaz wasn't the type for grand gestures, so this simple act held a profound weight.
He flipped open the box to reveal a delicate silver locket. Inside were two tiny portraits - one of Y/N in her uniform, a rare, candid shot taken by Soap during a training exercise, and one of Gaz, looking uncharacteristically serious.
Tears pricked at her eyes. "Gaz, it's... beautiful."
"So you'll remember me when I'm away," he said quietly, his gaze fixed on the locket. "And I'll remember you."
Y/N reached across the table and took his hand, her fingers interlacing with his. "I could never forget you, Gaz. Never."
They continued their dinner, the locket resting between them. It was a small, tangible symbol of their connection, a promise to hold onto each other, even when separated by miles and danger.
Later, as they walked back to their separate quarters, the February wind seemed less harsh, the sky a little less grey. Gaz stopped her at the door, tilting her chin up. He kissed her then, a slow, tender kiss that spoke volumes.
"Happy Valentine's month, Y/N," he whispered against her lips.
"Happy Valentine's month, Gaz," she replied, her heart full.
It wasn't chocolates and roses or fancy restaurants. It was stolen moments, whispered secrets, and a quiet understanding forged in the crucible of duty and danger. It was their love, imperfect but real, a flickering flame in the darkness. And for Y/N, that was enough. More than enough. It was everything.