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candy_aTitle: The Fourteen Days of Valentine's Day 2013: Day Two
Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries (movieverse)
Pairing: Donald and Timothy
Rating: PG
Word Count: About 1650
References/Spoilers: Can't think of any.
Disclosure: I wish they were mine. Alas, they are not, so I'm just taking them out for a spin with thanks to the men who created them and the actors who brought them to life.
Summary: Timmy gives Donald a Valentine present, and Don rescues his day two gift from the ruins of his car.
Author's Note: I'll be posting one a day until Donald and Timothy make it to Valentine's Day.
*************************************************
THE FOURTEEN DAYS OF VALENTINE'S DAY 2013: DAY TWO
by
Candy Apple
I should have known that I wouldn't be off the hook with Timmy to get my head examined. The next day, we were at a nearby urgent care place that had the facilities to take x-rays. I was clean, dry, fed, and in a much better mood by the time that doctor had to deal with me, so things went smoothly. It was Saturday, or we'd have gone to my regular doctor, but this guy was an older man, kinda laid back, and seemed to know what he was doing. He said I had a mild concussion (no big surprise) and that I should take it easy for a few days, and definitely keep my head out of harm's way for a couple weeks. I didn't have a skull fracture, and since I wasn't seeing three of him, he was comfortable that my eyes weren't affected.
After we stopped for lunch at a Chinese buffet, I wanted to go view the body: my car. So we went to the garage where I'd had it towed, and it was sitting out there with the rest of the semi-mangled cars, looking pretty wasted.
"Maybe they can find some scrap parts," Timmy said. I think I fell in love with him all over again at that moment. I knew he got annoyed with the car leaking oil in the driveway, dying on us when I insisted on driving somewhere and then we'd be stuck, and he didn't think it was safe for me to use for work. But it's part of the package deal I come with, so he took it in stride. And now he was trying to cheer me up, and show his willingness to have its sewn-together carcass back in our garage.
"It'll cost more than it's worth to fix, even that way," I said. The car had a lot of sentimental value for a host of reasons, but I knew the sensible thing was to scrap it. Something had finally happened that made it illogical to hang onto.
"It might cost more than the Blue Book value, but that's not the value that matters," he said, slipping his hand into mine as we stood there surveying the damage. "Donald, if they can fix it for you, get it repaired. I was looking for something special to get you for Valentine's Day...so, Happy Valentine's Day, honey. Get it fixed. It's on me."
"That's crazy...it'll probably cost a couple grand to get this back in action."
"As long as I've know you, you've been driving that car. And it's always been on borrowed time but you've always nurtured it along and kept it. You two have been together longer than we have," he added, smiling. "Wouldn't you like to have it back, if you're being honest?"
"Well, yeah, but - "
"But nothing. It's going to be repaired, end of discussion. Now you should come home with me and take it easy. Doctor's orders, remember?"
"I love you," I said, taking him in my arms and kissing him in a way that left us both a little shaky in the legs.
"I love you, too," he responded, kissing my forehead just off to the side of my bandaged lump. The swelling was down a lot, and with him, I kind of forgot that it hurt. I had better things to focus on.
"Wait a second," I said, hurrying over to the car and unlocking the back passenger door, which was still in fairly good shape. I emerged with a small plastic bag from a greeting card store where I'd bought his second gift the day before. I wasn't about to fall behind...it was day two, and by God, he was gonna get Day Two's present. The little bag was pink, and it had looked a lot better before muddy water from the ditch had hit it through the broken out back window, but I was reasonably sure the gift itself survived. I handed him the bag. "Happy Valentine's Day," I said.
He looked at me for a long moment and then pulled me into his arms.
"You don't even know what it is yet," I protested, hugging him back. I never mind being hugged by him, I just was baffled why I was getting one before he even looked in the bag.
"I love every sweet present you bring me, but you'll always be my best and most important and only Valentine, Donald. Looking at this car...I'm just so glad you're all right. Thank God," he muttered against my hair, giving me a squeeze before backing away. "Sorry," he said, laughing softly, a little self-consciously.
"I'm not. Hug me anytime. I'm here for you," I replied, grinning and winking at him. He smiled back at me and looked in his bag. Inside was a small, square white box. I held the bag while he opened the little box and moved the small wad of tissue paper out of the way. It was a dark red crystal heart, about 3" by 3". You could set it anyplace...on a desk, a table, whatever. "I just wanted you to know that even if I'm not home, or working a lot..." I knew I was blushing. I'm not poetic and sometimes I feel stupid saying things, but Timmy's expression was worth feeling a bit awkward. "I just wanted you to know that you always have my heart."
"It's beautiful. What a beautiful thought," he added, hugging me again, and his breathing was a little ragged. When he stepped back I could tell his beautiful eyes were a bit moist behind his glasses. "I think I'll keep it on my night stand. Then, when you're out late, I can look at it before I go to sleep."
"Let's stop at Ferguson's and get a couple really good steaks for dinner."
"A quiet evening in? I love that idea."
"Me, too. Farley won't mind that, either."
Ferguson's is a really good butcher shop not far from my office. The owner, Joe Ferguson, is an older guy shaped like a barrel with a laugh to match his stature. He met Farley once when he was leaving his shop and I was taking the old boy out for a walk. I occasionally take Farley to the office with me to give him a change of scenery, but he gets restless about midday, and either Kenny or I take him out for a stroll. Usually me. Kenny's still a little afraid of him, and Farley knows it, which means he gets his way about everything when Kenny takes him out. Anyhow, Ferguson always includes a few big bones suitable for a dog Farley's size whenever we buy anything there.
Timmy and I chose a couple of lovely steaks and, in addition to the bones Ferguson had set aside for him, I bought some extra meat so we could make Farley a steak dinner, too. Timmy arched one of his lovely eyebrows at me, but said nothing. I know I spoil the dog, and so does he when he thinks no one's looking. Farley earned a happy old age with people who love him. Every good dog should eat steak once in a while.
It was snowing by the time we got home, and the wind was picking up. Timmy built a fire, and we curled up on the couch with Farley sprawled inelegantly in front of the fireplace, snoring like a locomotive. We threw in a DVD and shared a big bowl of popcorn. Our fancy dinner would come later.
********
Don grilled the steaks - all three of them - while I made salad. We set nice table for ourselves, complete with candles. The wind howled and the snow fell, and I thanked God more than once as we puttered around making dinner for delivering Donald safe and mostly sound back to me, back to Farley, who had his second wind from his nap and thought he should stand in the kitchen with us while we cooked, especially making a point of nearly tripping Don every time he moved one way or the other.
So we ate by candlelight, and Farley dined at our feet on a plate of food most humans would have been happy to get - chunks of pricey steak, and chunks of potato and some vegetables. In other words, he shared our menu, too.
We had some soft jazz on in the background, and more than once, I just let myself sink into the beauty and depth of what I felt for Don. We gazed at each other like honeymooners across the table, holding hands and toasting our wine glasses.
After dinner, we slow danced to the music there in the warmth and safety of our home. Don deserved all the good things in life, anything I could ever give him. Probably more. I guess all my love forever, all my passion, my devotion, and my every waking thought would have to do. I had a feeling he'd be okay with that.
Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries (movieverse)
Pairing: Donald and Timothy
Rating: PG
Word Count: About 1650
References/Spoilers: Can't think of any.
Disclosure: I wish they were mine. Alas, they are not, so I'm just taking them out for a spin with thanks to the men who created them and the actors who brought them to life.
Summary: Timmy gives Donald a Valentine present, and Don rescues his day two gift from the ruins of his car.
Author's Note: I'll be posting one a day until Donald and Timothy make it to Valentine's Day.
*************************************************
THE FOURTEEN DAYS OF VALENTINE'S DAY 2013: DAY TWO
by
Candy Apple
I should have known that I wouldn't be off the hook with Timmy to get my head examined. The next day, we were at a nearby urgent care place that had the facilities to take x-rays. I was clean, dry, fed, and in a much better mood by the time that doctor had to deal with me, so things went smoothly. It was Saturday, or we'd have gone to my regular doctor, but this guy was an older man, kinda laid back, and seemed to know what he was doing. He said I had a mild concussion (no big surprise) and that I should take it easy for a few days, and definitely keep my head out of harm's way for a couple weeks. I didn't have a skull fracture, and since I wasn't seeing three of him, he was comfortable that my eyes weren't affected.
After we stopped for lunch at a Chinese buffet, I wanted to go view the body: my car. So we went to the garage where I'd had it towed, and it was sitting out there with the rest of the semi-mangled cars, looking pretty wasted.
"Maybe they can find some scrap parts," Timmy said. I think I fell in love with him all over again at that moment. I knew he got annoyed with the car leaking oil in the driveway, dying on us when I insisted on driving somewhere and then we'd be stuck, and he didn't think it was safe for me to use for work. But it's part of the package deal I come with, so he took it in stride. And now he was trying to cheer me up, and show his willingness to have its sewn-together carcass back in our garage.
"It'll cost more than it's worth to fix, even that way," I said. The car had a lot of sentimental value for a host of reasons, but I knew the sensible thing was to scrap it. Something had finally happened that made it illogical to hang onto.
"It might cost more than the Blue Book value, but that's not the value that matters," he said, slipping his hand into mine as we stood there surveying the damage. "Donald, if they can fix it for you, get it repaired. I was looking for something special to get you for Valentine's Day...so, Happy Valentine's Day, honey. Get it fixed. It's on me."
"That's crazy...it'll probably cost a couple grand to get this back in action."
"As long as I've know you, you've been driving that car. And it's always been on borrowed time but you've always nurtured it along and kept it. You two have been together longer than we have," he added, smiling. "Wouldn't you like to have it back, if you're being honest?"
"Well, yeah, but - "
"But nothing. It's going to be repaired, end of discussion. Now you should come home with me and take it easy. Doctor's orders, remember?"
"I love you," I said, taking him in my arms and kissing him in a way that left us both a little shaky in the legs.
"I love you, too," he responded, kissing my forehead just off to the side of my bandaged lump. The swelling was down a lot, and with him, I kind of forgot that it hurt. I had better things to focus on.
"Wait a second," I said, hurrying over to the car and unlocking the back passenger door, which was still in fairly good shape. I emerged with a small plastic bag from a greeting card store where I'd bought his second gift the day before. I wasn't about to fall behind...it was day two, and by God, he was gonna get Day Two's present. The little bag was pink, and it had looked a lot better before muddy water from the ditch had hit it through the broken out back window, but I was reasonably sure the gift itself survived. I handed him the bag. "Happy Valentine's Day," I said.
He looked at me for a long moment and then pulled me into his arms.
"You don't even know what it is yet," I protested, hugging him back. I never mind being hugged by him, I just was baffled why I was getting one before he even looked in the bag.
"I love every sweet present you bring me, but you'll always be my best and most important and only Valentine, Donald. Looking at this car...I'm just so glad you're all right. Thank God," he muttered against my hair, giving me a squeeze before backing away. "Sorry," he said, laughing softly, a little self-consciously.
"I'm not. Hug me anytime. I'm here for you," I replied, grinning and winking at him. He smiled back at me and looked in his bag. Inside was a small, square white box. I held the bag while he opened the little box and moved the small wad of tissue paper out of the way. It was a dark red crystal heart, about 3" by 3". You could set it anyplace...on a desk, a table, whatever. "I just wanted you to know that even if I'm not home, or working a lot..." I knew I was blushing. I'm not poetic and sometimes I feel stupid saying things, but Timmy's expression was worth feeling a bit awkward. "I just wanted you to know that you always have my heart."
"It's beautiful. What a beautiful thought," he added, hugging me again, and his breathing was a little ragged. When he stepped back I could tell his beautiful eyes were a bit moist behind his glasses. "I think I'll keep it on my night stand. Then, when you're out late, I can look at it before I go to sleep."
"Let's stop at Ferguson's and get a couple really good steaks for dinner."
"A quiet evening in? I love that idea."
"Me, too. Farley won't mind that, either."
Ferguson's is a really good butcher shop not far from my office. The owner, Joe Ferguson, is an older guy shaped like a barrel with a laugh to match his stature. He met Farley once when he was leaving his shop and I was taking the old boy out for a walk. I occasionally take Farley to the office with me to give him a change of scenery, but he gets restless about midday, and either Kenny or I take him out for a stroll. Usually me. Kenny's still a little afraid of him, and Farley knows it, which means he gets his way about everything when Kenny takes him out. Anyhow, Ferguson always includes a few big bones suitable for a dog Farley's size whenever we buy anything there.
Timmy and I chose a couple of lovely steaks and, in addition to the bones Ferguson had set aside for him, I bought some extra meat so we could make Farley a steak dinner, too. Timmy arched one of his lovely eyebrows at me, but said nothing. I know I spoil the dog, and so does he when he thinks no one's looking. Farley earned a happy old age with people who love him. Every good dog should eat steak once in a while.
It was snowing by the time we got home, and the wind was picking up. Timmy built a fire, and we curled up on the couch with Farley sprawled inelegantly in front of the fireplace, snoring like a locomotive. We threw in a DVD and shared a big bowl of popcorn. Our fancy dinner would come later.
********
Don grilled the steaks - all three of them - while I made salad. We set nice table for ourselves, complete with candles. The wind howled and the snow fell, and I thanked God more than once as we puttered around making dinner for delivering Donald safe and mostly sound back to me, back to Farley, who had his second wind from his nap and thought he should stand in the kitchen with us while we cooked, especially making a point of nearly tripping Don every time he moved one way or the other.
So we ate by candlelight, and Farley dined at our feet on a plate of food most humans would have been happy to get - chunks of pricey steak, and chunks of potato and some vegetables. In other words, he shared our menu, too.
We had some soft jazz on in the background, and more than once, I just let myself sink into the beauty and depth of what I felt for Don. We gazed at each other like honeymooners across the table, holding hands and toasting our wine glasses.
After dinner, we slow danced to the music there in the warmth and safety of our home. Don deserved all the good things in life, anything I could ever give him. Probably more. I guess all my love forever, all my passion, my devotion, and my every waking thought would have to do. I had a feeling he'd be okay with that.
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