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Ambrosius awoke to a little pink gerbil standing on his chest.
“Wake up,” the gerbil demanded.
That’s quite the wakeup call, Ambrosius mused to himself. But Nimona wouldn’t be Nimona without it. He sat up in bed, mindful of the little critter on his chest, and scritched her fur affectionately. “Morning to you too, Nini. What’s up?”
Gerbil Nimona flopped onto her back, demanding belly rubs. “We have ten minutes before Boss calls us down for breakfast so we gotta make this fast.”
“I don’t even know what it is.” Still, Ambrosius obliged, rubbing her tiny fuzzy belly with his index finger. “You going to use one of those ten minutes to tell me what we’re doing?”
“You don’t know? For shame, lover boy.” She allowed him to pet her for seven more seconds, then hopped off of his chest and shifted into her teenage form, sitting crisscross on the edge of the bed. “It’s Balentine’s Day.”
It’s what?, he wondered in confusion and only a mild amount of concern. He blinked. “Balentine’s Day? Like Ballister?”
“Wow Blondie, nothing gets past you.” Nimona grabbed Ambrosius’ phone from the nightstand, opened up the calendar app, and pointed to the current date. She shoved the screen in his face. “It’s like Valentine’s Day but not stupid.”
“Valentine’s Day was last month, Nimona. It’s the middle of March now.”
“And I repeat: nothing gets past you. You’re a certified genius. I know it was last month and that’s why we’re doing it again a month later but we’re making it actually substantial and not sappy and corny and chees— wait, why are all of your expressions for something dumb named after food? If something is really lame, you call it cheesy and sappy. What do people have against cheese and sap? Were they standing outside in the cold cold winter tapping the trees and collecting syrup?”
Aaaaand there she goes. Ambrosius snapped his fingers to get her attention. “Hey. Firecracker. You’re getting off track. Tell me what we’re doing for him for Balentine’s Day. I assume something cute?”
She flopped down on her back onto the mattress, then sprouted wings and shot up into a sitting position once more. “The cutest! So cute that he’s going to cry. I know it doesn’t take a lot to make him cry, but still. I want waterworks! I want to break out the big guns, and by guns I mean tears.”
“You’re really intent on this.”
“We’re his two favorite people,” she replied instantly. “We can’t let him down. That would be treason. You don’t wanna commit treason, do you?” Her eyes glistened with an ominous white glow.
Ambrosius shuddered. “No treason. I could do without the treason.”
“Good answer.” She licked her lips, as if his words were a tasty treat that satisfied some primal urge. “Okay! So here’s what I was thinking…”
That afternoon, Nimona was tasked with distracting Ballister so that Ambrosius could gather decorations to be displayed throughout the house. “Heeeey Boss, you wanna take a walk?”
“I’d love to. Let me see if Ambrosius wants to —”
“No!” She leapt in front of him, blocking his path. “I mean… he’s not feeling good. We should let him sleep.”
Ballister’s eyes shimmered with worry. “If he’s sick, I should check on him.”
“Check on him later. He told me he’s going to bed.”
Ballister gave her a look that said he didn’t quite believe her. And she didn’t blame him; usually she was way more subtle than this. Lying usually came much easier to her, when it wasn’t his happiness at stake. Still, his shoulders relaxed and he offered a smile that could set even the coldest heart ablaze. “Okay, we’ll go for a walk. Anywhere in particular that you want to walk to?”
“The market,” Nimona requested right away. “The pepper biscuits from that one vendor lady.” That was the unadulterated truth. Those biscuits were some of the best things that Nimona had eaten in years.
“The market it is. How are we getting there this time? On the back of a dragon? On the horn of a rhino? On the wings of an albatross?” And oh golly, he almost sounded excited as he listed off the possibilities.
Tempting. Very tempting. Nimona loved to make as grand and dramatic an entrance as possible, especially now that the townspeople (and especially the kids, who were the best audience) appreciated her.
But today was for Ballister.
So she could forgo a giant multi-legged, massive-wingspanned creature. But next time, he wouldn’t be so lucky!
“Nah, Boss. I think today I’ll stick with something a little more simple.” A flash of pink sparkles later and she was a small child, about eight years old. This form sported much shorter hair and a slightly older appearance than the usual crimson-haired girl who Nimona became in times of great fatigue or stress.
No fatigue or stress today! Just a really happy Ballister. That was the game plan!
Nimona held her small hand out to him. “Take me to the market?”
The hand that clasped hers may have been made of metal, but the warmth it exuded was unmistakable. “It would be my honor.”
As afternoon bled into evening, Ambrosius distracted Ballister so that Nimona could cook a surprise dinner. “Bal, fancy going to the florist?”
Ballister studied his boyfriend’s face, worry etched across his own. “Are you feeling up to it? Nimona said that you were sick.”
Ambrosius blinked. That was news to him. “I was sick? Oh! Right.” He did his best attempt at a small fake cough, which evolved into a real one. “Just a lingering cough now. I’m a lot better. I think the night air will be good for me. What do you say? Just you and me. Like a little nighttime date.”
Ballister brushed his human thumb against the thumb of the man he loved. “We haven’t been on a nighttime date in quite some time. But if you start to feel sick again, we’re going right home. Deal?”
“We have a deal, camera reel!” Ambrosius laughed at his own rhyme and pecked Ballister on the lips. “I love you, Bal.”
“I love you too, Brosia. Take me on a flower shop date and buy me any flowers that I want?”
Oh, you have no idea, a giddy Ambrosius narrated to himself. “I thiiiiink that can be arranged.”
When Ambrosius led Ballister back home, it was to a masterful array of entrées and side dishes and desserts plated at the kitchen table; a banner strewn across the ceiling with Ballister’s face plastered in the center and the words “Happy Balentine’s Day!!!” written in alternating pink, black, and gold lettering; a few lit candles (spiced amber, Ballister noted: his favorite scent); and a ball of confetti popping over his head.
Stumbling back in surprise, Ballister brushed confetti off of his shoulder. “What is all this?”
“It’s Balentine’s Day!” Nimona informed him gleefully, rocking on her heels.
“Balentine’s Day,” he repeated, testing the name. “What, pray tell, does that entail, dear heart?”
A proud Nimona gestured to, well, all of it. “Celebrating you! It’s like Valentine’s Day without the lame forced overdone affection. We love you for real so already it’s a much better holiday.”
Slowly, Ballister turned to his boyfriend. “You knew about this?”
“Guilty as charged, Bal. Go check it out.”
Ballister did check it out. He took in the loudness of the banner, the conflicting aromas of the food and candles. The numerous pots and pans in the sink. The confetti strewn about the floor.
And sighed softly.
“This is all very, very considerate of you,” he began.
Nimona visibly deflated. “But? I feel a ‘but’ coming.”
Ballister took her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze. “But I don’t need all of this to remind me that I’m appreciated. I know that every single day.” His free hand took Ambrosius’, and he lifted the backs of their hands to his lips and kissed them, Nimona’s first and then Ambrosius’.
Uncharacteristically, the shapeshifter was quiet for a minute. Then, cautiously, a (metaphorical and not literal) duck dipping its webbed foot into the first thawed waters of the spring: “But you still like it, right?”
Ballister drew his two most loved ones into his arms and held them tight. “I love it. ‘Like’ isn’t a strong enough word. It means so much to me that you two took the time to put this all together.”
“It was her idea.” Ambrosius nodded toward Nimona.
Nimona made a playful shooing motion toward the blonde man. “He’s not a bad assistant, Boss. Maybe you should hire him as your next sidekick.”
“I like him as my boyfriend, thank you very much,” Ballister declined politely. “And I like you as my sidekick. I’ll accept no substitute.”
The elated teenager shrieked in glee, leaping into the air.
This was something that Ballister could take advantage of. He caught her midair and hoisted her securely against his chest in one arm, the other arm snaking around Ambrosius’ waist. “Thank you for Balentine’s Day. You’ve made me the happiest man there has ever been.”
Nimona wrapped her arms around Ballister’s neck like a metaphorical koala. And now she was an actual koala. “Good because I have some ideas for Nimona November.”