Chapter 92: Our Kind of Date Night
I’d like to say I planned this out. That I sat down, brainstormed, maybe even googled "romantic date ideas near me."
But no. I just drove. And somehow, the car ended up pulling into the parking lot of the city aquarium.
Beside me, Val was sprawled against the window, chin propped on her hand, watching the passing streets like they’d wronged her. She hadn’t said much since we left the house, which was suspicious in itself. Celestia quiet? That was never a good sign.
When the big blue building came into view, she blinked, then turned to me, eyes narrowing.
> "An aquarium? Seriously?"
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. "Yeah. Problem?"
Her pout appeared instantly, like it was sitting in her pocket, waiting for the perfect moment. "You took me to look at... fish?"
"They’re not just fish. There are seals. Maybe even penguins."
She slumped back in her seat with the most dramatic sigh known to man. "Wow. Be still my beating heart."
I glanced at her, one brow raised. "You’ve got a better idea?"
Her lips parted, ready to fire something back, but I was quicker. "That won’t cost half my allowance."
She froze, mouth still open, then slowly closed it again. The silence that followed was so smug, I almost patted myself on the back.
"Exactly," I said, smirking.
Her arms crossed, and she pressed herself deeper into the seat, muttering, "Still just fish."
We pulled into a spot, the sound of the car engine cutting off filling the air between us. I stole another look at her. She wasn’t pouting anymore—not exactly—but her expression screamed "disappointed child being dragged somewhere against her will."
"Hey," I nudged her arm before she could hop out. "Don’t make that face. You’ll hurt their feelings."
Her eyes flicked to me, unimpressed. "Whose feelings? The fish?"
"Yes. They’ll cry bubbles."
She stared at me for a long second before a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "...That was dumb."
"Worked though."
She tried to cover her grin by pushing the door open. "Still dumb."
---
Inside, it was dim and cool, the kind of lighting that made everything glow faintly blue. Families moved past us in little clusters, kids pressed against glass walls where fish swam lazily behind them.
Val walked at my side with her hands folded neatly behind her back. For once, she wasn’t bouncing or tugging at me or pointing at things. She was quiet. Too quiet.
"You don’t like it?" I asked finally, after the fifth tank she barely glanced at.
She tilted her head, considering the glass wall where a school of silver fish darted around. "It’s... fine."
"Fine," I echoed flatly.
> "Mm-hm. Fine."
"You’re bored."
Her lips twitched, like she wanted to deny it but couldn’t quite bring herself to. "...A little."
I rubbed the back of my neck, watching the shimmer of scales as the fish turned together in perfect sync. I’d thought she’d like this. Or at least laugh at the sharks or cling to me when we passed the darker exhibits. Something.
Instead, she looked... well. Bored.
And for some reason, that stung.
I slowed my steps, letting a family pass us, their little girl squealing about "Nemo." Val didn’t even look.
"Sorry," I muttered before I could stop myself.
She blinked, looking up at me. "For what?"
"For... this. I thought it’d be fun."
Her brows drew together. "Kai..."
I shrugged, stuffing my hands in my pockets. "I didn’t really have enough time to plan you know. Just picked the first place that came to mind. Guess it was dumb."
She tilted her head, watching me with that unreadable expression she got sometimes, the one that made me feel like she was peeling me apart without saying a word.
"It’s not dumb," she said finally, softly. "It’s... you. And you’re here. That’s enough."
My chest tightened a little, and I had to look away, focusing instead on a stingray sliding lazily along the tank wall.
Of course, two seconds later she added, "But also... it’s still just fish."
I groaned. "You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?"
Her laugh bubbled out, light and warm, and somehow the place didn’t feel so boring anymore.
---
By the time we pulled back into the driveway, the sky had already started softening into that lazy golden color that made the house look like something out of a postcard.
Duchess was curled up by the front door, tail thumping once before she settled back down. She didn’t even bother lifting her head when we walked in. Just gave a little sigh, like oh, you’re home? Cool. Don’t bother me, I’m busy being adorable.
Val stretched the second she stepped out of her shoes, arms reaching toward the ceiling like she hadn’t spent the last two hours dragging me through glowing tunnels of fish and fake coral reefs. I still felt kind of bad.
The aquarium hadn’t been... awful. She’d laughed a few times, leaned against me during the darker exhibits, even pointed out a jellyfish that "looked like it was trying to dance the cha-cha." But I knew she’d been bored more often than not. And even though she didn’t exactly admit it, the guilt gnawed at me anyway.
I opened my mouth, already halfway to an apology—something like sorry for the world’s lamest date, I’ll make it up to you. But then she spun around, clapped her hands once, and beamed at me like she’d just solved the energy crisis.
> "Pillow fort."
I blinked. "What?"
She hopped in place, pointing toward the living room. "Let’s build a fort. With pillows. Big, messy, ridiculous. The kind you see in cartoons."
"...Uh?"
Her eyes were shining, and she was already walking backward toward the couch as if she’d been planning this for hours. "I’ve always wanted to try it. Like, actually try it. Not just throw a blanket over two chairs. I mean layers, Kai. Walls, towers, a proper fortress. Maybe a moat if Duchess cooperates."
I stared at her, half-expecting her to break into laughter and admit she was kidding. She didn’t. She just kept going.
"Think about it. We stack them up, crawl inside, and—oh! We could string up fairy lights. They’ll be snacks too. We could even make it our base for the night, like a sleepover but upgraded. A royal fort."
"Val—"
"Or no, wait, an empire. Duchess can be our guard dog. She already sleeps half the day anyway, so she’ll fit right in. Imagine her sitting at the gate, like ’who goes there?’ and—"
"Val."
She stopped mid-ramble, blinking at me.
"I don’t think I have enough pillows for a fort," I said dryly.
There was a pause, then her brows furrowed in dramatic thought. "Hm. You’re right."
I exhaled in relief, thinking maybe this conversation would die there. Rookie mistake.
Her face lit up again. "Then let’s go buy some."
"...For a fort. Really?"
"Yes, really," she said, like I’d just asked if oxygen was necessary for survival.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "We have perfectly functional furniture. A bed, even. One you’ve stolen more than your fair share of."
She crossed the room in three quick steps, tugging at the hem of my sleeve with both hands. "Kaiii. Please? Pretty please? We can make the best fort ever. And it’ll totally make up for..." She tilted her head, smirk playing on her lips. "...you ruining our date by taking me to look at nemo."
My head snapped up. "So you did hear that girl call it Nemo."
"That’s not the point," she said instantly, nose scrunching.
I narrowed my eyes. "Sounds like the point."
She released my sleeve just to fold her hands together, eyes wide, lower lip jutting in a practiced pout. "Pleeeeease? Think about it. A whole fortress. Just us. Snacks. Movies. And definitely no fish. Just..." Her gaze softened, her voice dropping almost shyly. "Just us."
I swallowed, throat tight. She knew exactly what she was doing.
"And if that’s not enough..." she added sweetly, tilting her head, "...remember, I did say I’d, you know, eventually..."
I choked on air. "Val—"
"What?" she asked innocently, blinking up at me. "I’m just reminding you that the offer is still on the table. Somewhere in the future. If you happen to make me happy now."
"Blackmail," I muttered.
"Motivation," she corrected, tugging at my sleeve again, her voice climbing into that sing-song whine that was impossible to tune out. "Pillow fort. Pleaseeee. Please please please. I’ll even—oh!" Her eyes widened suddenly, mischief sparking. "I’ll name the fort after you. Fort Kai. No, wait, Castle Husband. Even better."
I dragged a hand down my face, trying not to laugh. She really didn’t know when to quit.
"...Fine," I sighed, finally giving in.
Her squeal of victory nearly made Duchess twitch in her sleep.
---
And that’s how I found myself, twenty minutes later, standing in the home section of a department store, surrounded by a sea of pillows. Val was in her element.
"Not this one," she said, tossing aside a plain white cushion without a second glance. "Too boring."
She grabbed another, hugged it against her chest, then grinned. "This one! It’s fluffy. It’ll make a good wall."
I followed behind her with a cart that was already half-full. "You realize we’re not actually laying siege to anyone, right? We don’t need defensive walls."
"Wrong," she said immediately. "Every fort needs walls. What if Duchess betrays us?
"...You’ve officially lost it."
She ignored me, piling in more pillows—blue ones, patterned ones, even a star-shaped one I was pretty sure was for toddlers.
By the time she was done, the cart looked like it had eaten a rainbow.
"Forty," she announced proudly, brushing her hands together.
"Forty?"
"Yup." She beamed at me like she’d just declared victory in some invisible battle. "That’s a good number. Nice and round."
"Val, that’s excessive."
> "Nope. It’s perfect."
I wanted to argue. Really, I did. But she was glowing, cheeks pink from excitement, eyes bright as she swiped her card at the counter. She was happy.
And maybe that was reason enough not to stop her.
---
To be continued...