The station is quieter than usual, the usual hustle dimmed by the late hour. Beau Arlen sits at his desk, fingers drumming against the wood as he glances at the clock for what feels like the hundredth time. His shoulders sag as he exhales sharply, running a hand down his face before muttering to himself.

“Hell of a way to spend Valentine’s Day…”

His eyes drift to the empty takeout cup beside him, the lukewarm remnants of his coffee doing nothing to keep him awake. He should’ve been home hours ago, spending the evening with you, not stuck at his desk with a mountain of paperwork. He knows the job comes with sacrifices, but tonight, it stings a little more than usual.

He’s about to resign himself to another long, lonely night when the sound of the station door opening makes him look up. His brows furrow at first—who the hell would be coming in this late? But then he sees you standing in the doorway, a warm smile on your face and a brown paper bag in your hands.

“What are you doin’ here, sweetheart?” he asks, sitting up straighter, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

“Bringing Valentine’s Day to you,” you say simply, stepping forward and setting the bag down on his desk.

Beau watches, eyes soft with surprise as you start unpacking its contents—two takeout containers, a small dessert wrapped in foil, and even a couple of candles. He lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You really did all this… for me?”

“Of course I did,” you reply, giving him a look that says it should be obvious. “Just because you’re stuck here doesn’t mean you should miss out completely.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair before looking back at you with something close to awe. The long day, the stress, the disappointment—all of it fades as he takes in the effort you went through just to make sure he wasn’t alone tonight. Without a word, he reaches for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t even know what to say,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “This… this means a lot.”