Gordo sat in the living room, head buried in his hands as he stared at the script for the thirteenth time. Nothing made sense. He'd read and reread the entire thing five times and it just didn't work out in his head. He tossed the script haphazardly back onto the table, papers scattering everywhere. He sighed and tangled his hands in his hair, his head pounding from all the stupidity that kept haunting his work lately.

The door clicked, signaling that his beautiful wife was home. In tow was their young daughter, Brianna. Brea ran to her father, laughing all the way across the tiled floor. The six year old jumped into his open arms, hugging him tight. Brea always had a habit of knowing when her father was upset, it was no secret they knew each other too well. Lizzie smiled in the kitchen, leaning on the counter.

"So what did I miss today?" Lizzie inquired, filling a glass with water and sipping gingerly at the rim of the glass.

He looked up at her with hollow eyes, work clearly wearing thin at his body. He leaned against the doorjamb to the kitchen while Brea darted down the hall to her room. He folded his arms. "Just really frustrated with these scripts that Olsen keeps giving me. He knows I'm tired of it, I think he's doing it now to make me mad."

Lizzie pushed off the counter and went up to him, standing toe to toe, touching his cheek gently with her left hand. He could feel the cool metal of her wedding ring against his warm skin. "Listen, I know it's frustrating you, but maybe you just need a break from all the mess. I bet I know a way to get you to stop thinking about it."

He arched a brow, watching her move carefully. Her hand moved to his shoulder and trailed down until it was against his torso. "You're very mischievous, oh, wife of mine. Our daughter is down the hall."

Lizzie smirked. "She'll be fine." The blonde turned on her heel and scampered into the living room, curling a finger at him as she sat on the couch. "Come here, lovely."

He pushed off the wall and went into the living room, carefully observing his wife's actions. While his mind couldn't quite process what she was doing, he seemed to be enjoying it. Sitting beside her on the couch, he waited for her to do something. Instead, Lizzie kissed his cheek and smiled. "You should take a nap, I'll wake you in an hour or so."

He nodded casually and curled up on the couch, closing his eyes.

When he awoke an hour later, he noticed absently that the table had been removed, and the vase in the corner was also mysteriously absent. He didn't question it at first until he saw Lizzie come back into the room in bare feet. She smiled at him and went over to the TV, pressing a button. Music began to blare through the whole house, he couldn't believe Lizzie had managed to find those albums.

The smooth voice of Frank Sinatra began to echo through the whole house before a smile crept across Gordo's face. "How did you know?"

"Please, like I don't pay attention when we're at the record store? Music is your muse, Gordo, it's always been your muse. I'm pretty sure Euterpe has always been there guiding you since day one." Lizzie tied her hair up in a ponytail and offered her hand to him, waiting for him to take it. When he did, she yanked him close and tangled her left hand in his right hand, laying her head on his shoulder. "Remember when we danced at our wedding?"

"I remember you falling down the steps." He smirked. "And I remember catching you before you hit the ground. I also remember you complaining that your heels were ruined."

"Shut up, those heels were ruined." The woman laughed and turned so her lips pressed against his neck. "Remember the night that we had afterwards?"

He shivered slightly at the feeling of her soft lips pressing against his neck. Tilting his head upwards, he let her move to his chin before pressing a kiss firmly on his lips. "How could I forget? Only the second best thing to ever happen to me happened that day."

She moved with him, her dancing fluid. It was as if they knew each other's movements. She paused a moment, moving her hand to his belt loops. "David Gordon, how did I ever get so lucky to find a man that loves me implicitly?"

"Didn't you know I was born just for you?" He asked, reaching his left hand out to brush a stray hair from her eyes. Thos beautiful green eyes never left his mind. The same beautiful green that their daughter was blessed with. He leaned down to kiss her lips, his hand moving behind her neck.

When Lizzie pulled away, she looked up at him, her smile bright. "Do you remember what happened in December six years ago?"

"Yeah, I was sleeping and you woke me up because we had to go to the hospital. You told me that it had to be right then and there, no exceptions. You made me miss a job interview, you greedy little wench." He paused, biting his tongue for a moment. Had he really just called her a wench? He looked away, blue eyes focusing on photographs of their daughter in her ballet uniform. She'd been blessed with her father's dealings in the arts, and her mothers' singing voice. "Sorry, I didn't mean it that way."

Lizzie smiled. "I know you were joking."

"Do you?" He tugged her hand and pulled her close again, wrapping both his arms around her slender body, laying his chin against her shoulder. "Elizabeth, I don't know why you married me, and I don't know how I convinced you to do it, but I want you to know it was the greatest thing you could have ever done."

"I married you because I love you, Gordo, why else would I? And you convinced me by telling me at four in the morning that no matter what happened, you would always be there. How can I argue with that? You were there for me after prom when Ronnie broke up with me again. You were there for me when my car broke down in Pasadena. You were even there for me when I didn't have money to fly home from London. I can't ever thank you enough, so I hope that Brianna is enough of a thank you." She smirked and moved away, clicking through the songs until she found My Kind of Girl, and sat on the couch.

Gordo stood for a long time, turning to go into the kitchen. For a while, Lizzie looked defeated, until he came back with two wine glasses full of red liquid. He offered one to her, but she merely stared at it. "It's grape juice," He answered. "I don't keep liquor where children are, I'm not that daft." He held the glass up to toast with hers.

"Happy Valentine's day, my dearest husband," Lizzie commented.

"As to you, my beautiful wife."

Several moments passed in silence before Brea ran into the room with a stack of papers. She put them on her father's lap and smiled widely. Gingerly picking up the first page, he noticed in large bold letters Agent X, by: Alex Olsen in the middle. There were random scribbles on it. The next page was similar to the first, and every page following it. He set the glass down on the table beside the couch and paged through the papers one by one.

Lizzie hesitantly watched beside him, knowing how much work he put into these scripts, and carefully reached out to touch his hand. "Don't be mad at her."

"Mad?" He picked up the pages as if they were somebody's dirty socks and stared at them. "Don't be mad?" He asked condescendingly. "Don't be mad?"

Lizzie squeezed his hand and leaned in close to whisper in his ear. "Remember she's only six, she doesn't know better. She takes after her momma in that respect."

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. "I'm not mad; I think this is amazing artwork. We're going to frame it later. Promise."

Brae's eyes lit up. "Yay!"

Gordo reached down and picked his daughter up, setting her in his lap. Kissing her cheek, he brought her close and let her lay against his chest while he sang to her. "There's nowhere I'd rather be right now other than here."

Lizzie smiled and brushed Brea's hair back. "I'm glad. About your project…"

"The script? I'm not worried about it. Brea did an excellent job fixing it." He commented, kissing his daughter's forehead.

"Not that project."

"Oh, the project…we'll continue that tonight when Brea goes to visit uncle Matt." Gordo commented with a smirk. "If that's okay with you."

"Of course," She kissed his lips and smiled to Brea. "We all know I don't like to share daddy."

"Get used to it," He answered. "Because Brea has my undivided attention at all times."

"You won't be saying that tonight," Lizzie answered holding up a discrete pink bag with white stripes on it. "Happy Valentine's day."

He frowned. "You tease."

"Yep!" Lizzie murmured before walking away from the two on the couch. "We'll continue this discussion later."

Growling under his breath he nodded casually, faking a smile for Brea. "Indeed we will."

Just some fluff for V-day. =3

I know, this doesn't make up for my neglecting We Can Run and Don't Call Me Daddy, but I hope it does fill the temporary void from not doing so. I've been really caught up in my Chuck stories lately. I'm truly sorry. I'll do my best to update, but you can't rush success.