I was just getting ready to clock out; my twelve hours shift was over, and I could finally go home to my lover/brat for our first Valentine dinner. Even though Dillon and I have been together for a year, our first few months were just as roommates, not lovers. It was not until early spring that I asked him to be my boyfriend; so this, technically, would be our first Valentines together.
As I said, I was just about ready to slide my timecard through the clock, when a five-alarm rang though the station. ‘Fuck’, I muttered under my breath, and turned back toward my unit. David was already buckling up his seatbelt. I climbed in, grabbed the seatbelt, buckled up, and turned the engine over, as the hook and ladder pulled out of the station. It took me three seconds to be right on his finder.
It took six hours and three stations to put out the warehouse fire. The warehouse and contents were a loss. In the beginning, the workers got out with only minor burns, and a few smoke inhalations. Even the alley cats got out with only minor singes. A couple of firefighters from other units were, taken to the hospital with injuries and some inhalation, but no one from our unit. A few news personnel were taken to the hospital, because of their own foolishness; but, overall, it went well; no one died.
We pulled into the station just after eleven. Both Captains waved us bye, as David and I finally clocked out. I dropped David off at his house; Allen, his partner was waiting on the steps for him. He waved to me as he held out his arms for his lover to fall into them. He then kissed David’s smoke, smudged face; picked him up in his arms, and carried him into the house.
When I got home, I noticed the apartment was dark, since it was after eleven well close to midnight; I knew Dillon was asleep by now; he could never stay awake pass ten; eleven, if he was lucky. I did my best to be quiet when I opened the door. The first thing I noticed was a head lying on the back of the sofa, with the radio playing soft music, the type you dance to.
I shut the door with a soft click, and made my way over to the sofa; then gently kissed my young lover on the top of his head. My eyes caught the flickering light coming from the kitchen, and then I smelled candles burning. Looking at the table a little better, I noticed a candle light setting there, with a bottle of Apple Cider cooling in an old Easter bucket. I also noticed a cake setting on the counter, under a class cake dish, which used to belong to my grandmother. The kitchen was deck out in pink and red streamers, heart shape balloons; cupid cut outs on the cupboard doors. I just smiled to myself my baby went all out for this and I missed it.
“You’re home,” I heard Dillon say behind me.
I turned around to see him dressed (rumpled now) in a suit that he only wears for special functions, or court. His nicely gelled hair was sticking up here and there; he looked so cute. I took him in my arms and kissed him.
“You smell,” he told me, kissing my cheek, and then sneezing. He always sneezes when I come home smelling like my job. I am an EMT, not a firefighter; but licenses for both; like tonight, I played both parts.
“I should have called. I am sorry.” I told him as I glanced at the clock it was eleven fifty-nine “Happy Valentine,” I told him handing him a envelope.
“As long as you are home safe, every day is my Valentine day,” he said, giving me a hug, then a heartwarming kiss.
