"Hey, guess who?" Sam called as he walked through the front door. He smiled at her and went straight for the beer in the fridge. "Thought I'd stop in for a drink with you. What do you say?" he cheerfully inquired, holding up two bottles with an enticing grin.

She blankly stared at him, blowing an impressive cloud of smoke out the side of her mouth. His smirk pulled into a frown and he shut the fridge with his elbow. Neither one spoke as he joined her at the small table in the kitchen, and neither one spoke after their first sip of beer.

"Aw come on, Maddie. I came over here looking for a great time with my great drinking buddy. When you're gloomy, I'm gloomy, and the beer doesn't taste good when I'm gloomy. It only tastes average. Average is not okay on a day like today," Sam tried. He figured she wouldn't be in a chipper mindset, not after the way she'd been sulking all week. That's the reason he decided to drop in, just to make sure she was okay.

Madeline put out her cigarette and glared at him. "I can't help it if I'm gloomy. I'm gloomy and I intend to stay gloomy. Just because you're not gloomy doesn't mean that the rest of the world shouldn't be gloomy too! Got it, Sam?"

He scowled, hanging his head. "It's Valentine's Day. I thought you might need some company. I could use some, but if you're not feeling it…" he got up and looked at her with his big, brown puppy dog eyes. "I'll just go."

She couldn't stand the sad glower on his face. "Oh I'm sorry. Please stay. I can get short when I'm in a bad mood."

"You sure? I can still leave if you want."

"I'm sure. What good is my beer if you aren't here to drink it with me?"

He grinned and sat back down. "Alright then. Let's get to the drinking."

"Don't you have plans with Mrs. Reynolds? I thought that you were pretty serious," she said quietly, digging into a personal life as only Madeline Westen knew how to.

"Yeah, but she had to take her mother upstate today for some doctor thing."

"What about Michael? Don't you have some job to do? Files to steal, houses to blow up, people to help?"

Sam leaned back into a more comfortable position, ignoring the underhanded jab at their past adventures. Apparently, she hadn't gotten the memo that the super spy and gun-happy, Irish lady were back together. That was another reason he loved drinking with her. They could gossip. "Mikey and Fi are back together."

Her mouth dropped. "No."

"Oh yeah. Hot and heavy, baby."

"Get out of here!"

"I caught them when they were supposed to be listening in on the bad guys. Well, they weren't listening and they weren't thinking about the job, if you get my drift."

"This is great! That on again off again stuff wasn't healthy," she commented, lighting another cigarette.

He apathetically shrugged. "I don't know. It's not always the best for the mission when people are making with the extracurricular activities."

She smacked his arm. He winced and she started shouting, "You know that Fiona is meant for Michael! They're perfect for each other and don't you say otherwise!"

"Gee, okay, fine! They're perfect for each other. You didn't have to hit me."

"I'm not in the best frame of mind to be talking about romance today. It's Valentine's Day, the most romantic day of the year, and I'm stuck at home with no one. Michael is with Fiona, you have Mrs. Reynolds, Frank is dead, Virgil is God knows where, and Nate's in Vegas with Ruth. Where does that leave me?"

"That leaves you right here with me, Mike, and Fi. You mean the world to Mike."

"I know. Nate offered to take me to Vegas with him, but I couldn't leave. My life is here with you. But, to be honest, the three of you are always off somewhere crusading and I feel a little left out. I don't want to start shooting people or whatever it is you do, but someone could keep me in the loop. I'm not a feeble old woman. I can take care of myself and protecting me from something I don't know about won't do any good."

He sighed. "Mike knows that. He's only doing what he thinks is best. We don't want anything bad to happen to you. It's easier to not tell you anything than to tell you things that could come back to bite you in the end. You're his mom. He loves you."

"I know, Sam. You're the only one that treats me like a human being and not some helpless pup that needs babysitting."

"Because you're not. You're a tough lady, Maddie. I admire that. I wouldn't wanna tussle with you."

She chuckled lightheartedly. "You're a good man. Always there when you're needed and know exactly what to say."

"Ah you're giving me too much credit, but I'll take it anyway," he smiled and suddenly got an idea. "Look, I know it's not much, but how about I take you out for dinner someplace nice?"

"You'd do that?"

"Yeah, why not? We're friends, we've got nowhere else to be, and we'll drink the night away. It's Valentine's. People shouldn't be alone today."

She grinned at him. "Okay. I'll let you take me out."

"You'll let me? What an honor."

"You and your sarcasm. You're getting as bad as Michael."

"Hey, that wasn't sarcasm. I meant it. You get ready to go and I'll be back in a bit. I'm breaking out the suit for you."

"You're very sweet. Thank you, Sam."

"Don't mention it."

She got up and wrapped him in a quick hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He watched her happily walk down the hall with a soft smile on his face. His fingers rubbed the spot where she had kissed him, turning red from the lipstick she always wore. He smirked and wandered out of the door to get dressed up for their dinner.