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Living together in Denver was extraordinary. After Doc had miraculously overcome his tuberculosis, Wyatt decided enough was enough. He moved them both to Denver in an instant.
Although Doc still had his issues in the first few months of moving, the air in Colorado was much different than the dusty towns he was used to. The color had returned to his skin, making him look healthy and vibrant.
Their home was a sturdy log cabin nestled away from town just before a forest. A porch wrapped around the front, perfect for them to watch the sunrise and drink coffee in the mornings. Out back, a barn and a fence connected to the property, where Wyatt kept his beloved horses.
Wyatt would be up with the sun, always an early riser, checking the barn and horses before returning to the house. Doc would come out later wrapped in his robe, always holding a mug of coffee in his hand. He’d lean against the railing next to Wyatt on the porch, the both of them silently watching the moon disappear.
Wyatt thrived in town. He continued his work as a US Marshal, taking up a head position at the Sheriff’s office. He mostly handled paperwork in his office as his near-forty-year-old body was tired and tense from his years of service. The recent year had especially exhausted him more. Wyatt, despite the crazed public vendetta he had gone on in vengeance for Morgan, was respected in Denver. People knew his name and the dedication tied to it.
For Doc, he also did pretty well. In the first few weeks after their cabin had been filled with furniture and love, he started planning his next move. He was going to open a dental practice like he had all those years ago in Georgia before the consumption had taken over. Soon, he leased a small storefront on one of the main streets in Denver, his sign neatly painted: Dr. J.H. Holliday, DDS. He spent a majority of his days ordering equipment and sketching out floor plans with Wyatt when they both returned home. They were settled, and, most importantly in their eyes, domestic.
Come February, Wyatt got to thinking about Valentine’s Day. He never had appropriately celebrated the holiday, and he was sure Doc hadn’t either. Doing something together would most likely be difficult, but that didn’t mean impossible. They were both just stubborn enough to get out and enjoy the occasion.
It wasn’t like their love and affection for each other was completely invisible to onlookers. Every day around noon, Doc would halt his business planning and walk the few blocks to the federal building. He’d bring a lunch pail, which usually contained whatever he’d managed to put together that morning. He’d nod to the familiar deputies and walk straight into Wyatt’s office and shut the door behind him, locking them away to a sense of privacy for quite some time. They didn’t even second guess the fact that others might find it strange, it was a normal routine for them and had been for many years.
On the night of the twelfth, after cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, Wyatt brought up the suggestion of doing something on the fourteenth as they were preparing for bed. Doc had paused washing his face, his eyes meeting Wyatt’s in the mirror on the wall before him.
“The fourteenth?” he repeated, slowly returning to gliding facial cream over his cheek. “Valentine’s Day, Wyatt?”
Wyatt sat himself on the edge of their bed, watching with a curious eye as Doc washed his face. “Well, yeah. Thought it could be fun.”
Doc doesn’t respond immediately. He stares at his glistening face in the mirror, his mind racing. “I’ve never celebrated Valentines, Wyatt,” he says after a moment, turning to face Wyatt. “Not once. Would it be awkward?”
“I know, me neither. But, what better time to start celebrating it now? We have a new life now, together, and I’ve always wanted to do it with someone special.” Wyatt watched the gears in Doc’s head turn. It was evident the man was insecure about possibly ruining something so romantic. However, Wyatt didn’t care. He just wanted to see how it felt.
“I wouldn’t oppose,” Doc finally replied after just quietly standing there for a minute. “where would we go?”
“Griffin’s, maybe? Deputy Miller was tellin’ me about their new menu today, and it sounded quite nice. How does that sound?”
“Sounds nice. I’d like that,” Doc replies, his lips stretching into a smile. He walked the few steps to the bed and stood before Wyatt, his hands finding his shoulders.
Wyatt chuckled and brought his hands to Doc’s waist, bringing him to stand between his legs. “Alrighty, then. It’s a date.”
On the evening of the fourteenth, they were both dressing, moving around their bedroom with a shared silence.
Wyatt was ready first. He stood looking out the window while adjusting his dark suit jacket, a fine tailoring he had purchased in town. He watched Doc at the vanity mirror, who has fiddling with his silk tie, his brow furrowed in concentration. The light from one of the gas lamps caught the auburn highlights in Doc’s hair, which he had meticulously combed, though some strands fell across his forehead. Wyatt watched him closely in the mirror like he did so often, finding it difficult to pull his gaze away. He looked… ethereal, and Wyatt was enraptured.
After a little bit, Wyatt moved silently across the room, his boots making little to no sound against the hardwood floor. He came up behind Doc, who was still wrestling his tie, and wrapped his arms around his waist, gently pulling him back against his front. Wyatt then dipped his head and pressed a lingering kiss to the nape of Doc’s neck.
“You’re going to wrinkle my suit, Wyatt.” Doc murmured, though there was no real seriousness to his tone.
Wyatt tightened his hold, resting his chin atop Doc’s shoulder and looking at their reflection in the mirror. “Let it wrinkle,” he replied, meeting Doc’s eyes in the mirror. “I was just thinking how handsome you look.”
A slow smile spread across Doc’s face at that. He reached down with one hand and covered Wyatt’s forearm, gently rubbing the fabric there. “And you are dangerously flattering,” he turned his head slightly, his lips brushing Wyatt’s cheek. “But I thank you for the sentiment. Now, if you’ll release me, I must conquer this damnable tie.”
Wyatt chuckled and let him go, but not before stealing another kiss. “Leave it, I like it undone.”
“So you can have the pleasure of watching me fumble with it all night? I think not,” Doc’s fingers made a final adjustment before he turned towards Wyatt. “There, fit for a Marshal.”
Soon, they rode into Denver together. It was a risk, displaying their togetherness, but tonight, they didn’t care. They stopped caring long ago.
The restaurant was splendid. It stood at three stories, the first two stories seating, and the upper story the billiard room.
Wyatt and Doc were shown to a secluded booth towards the back of the first floor, casually sitting across from one another. They dined on roasted duck and potatoes, drank fine wine, and talked of everything and nothing. They spoke of Doc’s first full week of appointments, the paperwork Wyatt worked on in his office, and their horses. In between, their hands would meet underneath the table, their eyes meeting across the way. That silent communication was always an anchor.
After they finished eating, they moved to the top floor that contained a few mahogany bars and polished billiard tables. At one of the bars, they ordered drinks and leaned against the wood as they watched the noisy crowd.
“Remember this, John?” Wyatt asked quietly, his gaze scanning over the gamblers and well-dressed ladies.
Doc took a slow slip of his whiskey. “Remember it? It’s etched into my brain.”
“I don’t mean the gambling.” Wyatt said, turning to look at him. “I mean this. Just… standing here. With you. Without having to look over our shoulders.”
Doc’s expression softened. “I remember every time we had to look over our shoulders. I also remember every time we didn’t,” he looked up, his eyes holding Wyatt’s. “This is better.”
Later, they stepped out into the street. The streets were quieter now, barely anyone in sight. They walked arm in arm, not speaking, just enjoying the feeling of being together. The night had cooled off and the wind was calmer now, making Wyatt feel a sense of coming home that had nothing to do with a physical location and everything to do with the man walking beside him.
When they arrived home on their horses, they unsaddled them in the barn and put them away for the night before returning to the house.
They sat on the wide wooden porch of their cabin, hand in hand, while slowly rocking in their chairs. Above them, the Colorado sky was nearly completely dark now, the sun only a faint light now.
Doc sighed, a content sound. “I never thought I’d see this happiness again,” he said quietly. “For so long, it felt like there was nothing but darkness and wasting away.”
Wyatt squeezed his hand. “Not anymore, Doc. That life is over now.”
“Indeed it is,” Doc leaned his head on Wyatt’s shoulder. “Thank you, Wyatt. For tonight, for all of it.”
Wyatt smiled to himself and dipped his head to rest his cheek atop Doc’s head. “Happy Valentine’s Day, John.”
Doc shifted his head a bit and glanced up at Wyatt, their faces mere inches apart now. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my dear Wyatt.”
Wyatt leaned down and pressed their lips together, kissing him slowly but surely. Doc returned the kiss just the same, his eyes fluttering shut.
When they pulled apart, they looked from each other to the sky, their hands tightening in each other’s grip.
This was where they were meant to be. This was home.