12. Pet names - Martin Fitzgerald/Don Flack

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by Ameliashepherdwife

by Ameliashepherdwife

Martin Fitzgerald leaned against the firehouse wall, watching the flames dance in the hearth. The crackling sound was soothing, a balm for his weary soul. He'd been through hell and back, but this place—the 51st Firehouse—felt like home.

Don Flack, the gruff detective from the NYPD, stood beside him. They'd become unlikely friends over the years, bonding over late-night shifts and shared stories. Don's rugged exterior hid a heart of gold, and Martin admired that.

"You know," Don said, taking a sip of his coffee, "we should give our dogs old-fashioned names."

Martin raised an eyebrow. "Old-fashioned? Why?"

Don grinned. "Because they're like us—weathered, loyal, and a bit rough around the edges."

Martin chuckled. "Fair enough. What names are you thinking?"

Don scratched his chin. "Well, my German Shepherd could be Barnaby."

"Barnaby?" Martin laughed. "That's perfect. And yours?"

Martin glanced at the empty leash by his side. "I lost my dog a few months ago. His name was Clyde."

Don's expression softened. "I'm sorry, Martin."

"It's okay," Martin said. "He was a good companion."

Don nudged him. "Maybe it's time for a new one. How about Albert?"

"Albert?" Martin mused. "Like Einstein?"

"Yeah," Don said. "Smart, dependable. Just like you."

Martin felt a warmth spread through him. "Thanks, Don."

They stood there, shoulder to shoulder, watching the flames. The firehouse was their sanctuary—a place where old-fashioned names and enduring friendships thrived.

And maybe, just maybe, Martin would find another Clyde—one who'd share his late-night shifts and keep him warm by the fire.