Strachey Mysteries Fic - For Always (1/1)
Title: For Always
Author: kaly
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1330
Characters/Pairing: Donald/Timothy
Category: h/c, movieverse
Warnings: none
Spoilers: Ice Blues
Summary: Donald and Timothy reconnect after the dust settles.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing, no money earned.
Note: Thank you to geminigrl11 for the beta.
After the events of the past few days, it was almost anti-climatic when they crawled into bed that night, everything quiet and peaceful around them. So much had happened in so short a time, Donald didn't really want to stop and think about it all just yet.
He leaned over and turned off the lamp, pitching the room into darkness. Timothy was staring at the ceiling, laying on his back beside him, hands linked on his chest. Donald could never help but notice how much younger Timothy looked without his glasses. At the moment, he could practically see the thoughts spinning inside Timothy's head. It was exhausting just to watch.
His partner had been quieter than usual since Donald's capture, and even after their reunion with Kelly. The light and happiness in his eyes had been impossible to miss then. It had faded, though, once Kelly had been safely settled in the guest room, and they had retreated to their room. Tim hadn't even spoken while they got ready for bed.
"Hey," Donald said, brushing his fingers across Tim's forehead and into his hair. He waited until Timothy met his gaze before asking, "Everything okay in there?"
Tim managed a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah." He paused for a long moment, staring at his hands. "Just thinking."
Donald could avoid things he didn't want to think about like no one else, but Timothy never really was the type. Usually, both styles had merit, but at the moment, Donald wished Tim could just shut his thoughts off and rest.
Sighing in defeat, Donald dropped his hand and nodded. "I was afraid of that."
"What?" Timothy asked, his gaze darting up to look at Donald.
Smiling, heartened by the sudden fire in Tim's eyes, Donald took a slow, deep breath, debating his reply. "Nothing." Knowing he was taking his proverbial life in his hands, he added, "Just... sometimes you think too much."
"Really, Donald, I don't..." Tim replied, looking offended.
"It's okay," Donald said, interrupting him before Timothy could really get started. When Tim opened his mouth to continue, Donald pressed a finger against his lips. "Shh. I didn't mean anything bad by it, you know that." He waited until Timothy nodded, begrudgingly it seemed, before adding, "I just don't like to see you wear yourself out."
Timothy did smile then, reaching up to grasp Donald's hand and pressing a kiss to it. "The feeling's mutual, you know. Yours is just usually a more physical take on it than mine." Unable to argue the point, Donald merely nodded. "Speaking of," Tim continued, his hand ghosting down Donald's side, lingering on the still-red skin.
"I'm fine," Donald said, fighting the urge to pull away, more from Timothy's guilt than any actual pain. Tim had cataloged each mark the first chance he had, Donald loathing the anguish on his face as he did so. Hoping to avoid a repeat, to spare Tim, Donald cupped Timothy's cheek in his hand, and waited until the other man met his gaze. "I promise, honey. I'm fine."
Eyes vacant, staring off into space, Timothy said, "Never thought being unable to sleep at night, worried about you, would be my fault."
"Timmy..."
Shaking his head, Timothy seemed to snap out of it for the moment. "It's obvious what has to happen next," he said, a determined gleam to his eyes.
"No," Donald replied, pressing a hand against Tim's chest and shaking his head. Determined, he said, "I can't quit, Timothy."
"Oh no, not that. Wouldn't even dream," Timothy said, bordering on sarcasm - just barely managing not to roll his eyes, Donald could tell. He covered Donald's hand with his own. "No, no. But it's obvious I can't allow you out of my sight." Tim nodded, as though a final decision had been handed down. "Ever."
Fighting the urge to laugh, Donald asked, "And here I thought it was the other way around?"
Smiling softly, Timothy appeared to consider the idea. "That has its merits too, I suppose." He was quiet for a moment, staring at their joined hands. More seriously, he said, "I could barely sleep for hearing your screams."
They had come home and made love that night, Timothy almost frantic in the act, needing to know Donald was safe. It wasn't the first time, and Donald was a smart enough man to know it wouldn't be the last. He had hoped it would exhaust Tim to the point the nightmares wouldn't come, but they hadn't been so lucky.
"I know," Donald whispered, squeezing Tim's hand. And he did, having been woken more than once by Timothy's thrashing against the covers. Heart racing, Donald had clutched Tim, speaking softly and holding on as tightly as he dared until the nightmares passed. At the time, he had counted himself lucky that Timothy hadn't woken.
Timothy grimaced, trying to smile but failing miserably. Drawing nonsensical patterns on Donald's chest with his fingertips, he said, "I'm sorry if I woke you. I should've known..."
Donald tugged on Tim's hand, still grasped within his own, fighting resistance until his partner cooperated and curled next to him. It was a mirror of how they normally lay - usually, Donald loved pressing his ear to Tim's chest as they fell asleep. He would wrap his arms wrapped around Timothy's waist, Tim's arms around his shoulders, feeling safer than he had once thought possible.
"Nothing to be sorry for." He paused for a moment, adding quietly, "It's not like you haven't done the same for me." Donald knew the words had struck some mark when some of the tension melted from Tim's body.
They were both quiet for some time, leaving Donald to wonder if Timothy had dozed off, when he finally spoke. "Thank you."
Startled, Donald began, "Timmy, you don't have to thank me..."
"For surviving," Timothy interrupted, kissing Donald's chest. "For saving Amy, and the centers." Another kiss. "For Kelly." And another. He leaned back, just enough to look at Donald with tear-bright eyes. "Thank you."
Speechless, Donald could only blink against the tears the honest words had caused, and nod. Timothy did smile then, the first true smile Donald had seen since they had come to bed. Eye brow arching, Tim said, "What's this? Donald Strachey with no retort?"
"Oh, I'll give you a retort," Donald said, laughing, feeling lighter than he had since Timothy's call from the parking garage. Leaning forward as best he could, he covered Tim's lips with his own, a slow, unhurried confirmation that they survived yet again. When they finally broke apart, Tim's eyes were glazed and Donald smiled. "I love you," he whispered. "How's that for a retort?"
Timothy smiled, and Donald knew he had said the right thing. "I love you, too. Always." When Donald moved to kiss him again, he was surprised when Tim stopped him, covering his lips with his fingers. "But if you think we're doing anything with my baby sister in the next room, you have another thing coming."
Donald couldn't help it - he burst out laughing. "What?" he finally asked, when he could breathe. "Your sister is hardly..."
"Not the point! She's my sister," Tim said, refusing to listen. He looked strangled, gesturing toward the door. "And she's right next door, Donald!"
"Oh, how I love you," Donald said, still laughing, and hugging his suddenly prudish partner tight. "Let's get some sleep then, alright?"
Mollified, Timothy smiled and nodded. Laying his head back on Donald's chest, Timothy wrapped his arms around his waist, squirming a bit before sighing happily. "I love you," he whispered, moments later, sounding more asleep than awake.
Smiling, Donald pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Tim's head. "I know," he replied, running his hands over Timothy's back. He let Tim's soft snores lull him to sleep, hoping that - just maybe - the nightmares would stay at bay. But more than anything, he fell asleep safe in the knowledge they could weather anything, together.
end
Author: kaly
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1330
Characters/Pairing: Donald/Timothy
Category: h/c, movieverse
Warnings: none
Spoilers: Ice Blues
Summary: Donald and Timothy reconnect after the dust settles.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing, no money earned.
Note: Thank you to geminigrl11 for the beta.
After the events of the past few days, it was almost anti-climatic when they crawled into bed that night, everything quiet and peaceful around them. So much had happened in so short a time, Donald didn't really want to stop and think about it all just yet.
He leaned over and turned off the lamp, pitching the room into darkness. Timothy was staring at the ceiling, laying on his back beside him, hands linked on his chest. Donald could never help but notice how much younger Timothy looked without his glasses. At the moment, he could practically see the thoughts spinning inside Timothy's head. It was exhausting just to watch.
His partner had been quieter than usual since Donald's capture, and even after their reunion with Kelly. The light and happiness in his eyes had been impossible to miss then. It had faded, though, once Kelly had been safely settled in the guest room, and they had retreated to their room. Tim hadn't even spoken while they got ready for bed.
"Hey," Donald said, brushing his fingers across Tim's forehead and into his hair. He waited until Timothy met his gaze before asking, "Everything okay in there?"
Tim managed a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah." He paused for a long moment, staring at his hands. "Just thinking."
Donald could avoid things he didn't want to think about like no one else, but Timothy never really was the type. Usually, both styles had merit, but at the moment, Donald wished Tim could just shut his thoughts off and rest.
Sighing in defeat, Donald dropped his hand and nodded. "I was afraid of that."
"What?" Timothy asked, his gaze darting up to look at Donald.
Smiling, heartened by the sudden fire in Tim's eyes, Donald took a slow, deep breath, debating his reply. "Nothing." Knowing he was taking his proverbial life in his hands, he added, "Just... sometimes you think too much."
"Really, Donald, I don't..." Tim replied, looking offended.
"It's okay," Donald said, interrupting him before Timothy could really get started. When Tim opened his mouth to continue, Donald pressed a finger against his lips. "Shh. I didn't mean anything bad by it, you know that." He waited until Timothy nodded, begrudgingly it seemed, before adding, "I just don't like to see you wear yourself out."
Timothy did smile then, reaching up to grasp Donald's hand and pressing a kiss to it. "The feeling's mutual, you know. Yours is just usually a more physical take on it than mine." Unable to argue the point, Donald merely nodded. "Speaking of," Tim continued, his hand ghosting down Donald's side, lingering on the still-red skin.
"I'm fine," Donald said, fighting the urge to pull away, more from Timothy's guilt than any actual pain. Tim had cataloged each mark the first chance he had, Donald loathing the anguish on his face as he did so. Hoping to avoid a repeat, to spare Tim, Donald cupped Timothy's cheek in his hand, and waited until the other man met his gaze. "I promise, honey. I'm fine."
Eyes vacant, staring off into space, Timothy said, "Never thought being unable to sleep at night, worried about you, would be my fault."
"Timmy..."
Shaking his head, Timothy seemed to snap out of it for the moment. "It's obvious what has to happen next," he said, a determined gleam to his eyes.
"No," Donald replied, pressing a hand against Tim's chest and shaking his head. Determined, he said, "I can't quit, Timothy."
"Oh no, not that. Wouldn't even dream," Timothy said, bordering on sarcasm - just barely managing not to roll his eyes, Donald could tell. He covered Donald's hand with his own. "No, no. But it's obvious I can't allow you out of my sight." Tim nodded, as though a final decision had been handed down. "Ever."
Fighting the urge to laugh, Donald asked, "And here I thought it was the other way around?"
Smiling softly, Timothy appeared to consider the idea. "That has its merits too, I suppose." He was quiet for a moment, staring at their joined hands. More seriously, he said, "I could barely sleep for hearing your screams."
They had come home and made love that night, Timothy almost frantic in the act, needing to know Donald was safe. It wasn't the first time, and Donald was a smart enough man to know it wouldn't be the last. He had hoped it would exhaust Tim to the point the nightmares wouldn't come, but they hadn't been so lucky.
"I know," Donald whispered, squeezing Tim's hand. And he did, having been woken more than once by Timothy's thrashing against the covers. Heart racing, Donald had clutched Tim, speaking softly and holding on as tightly as he dared until the nightmares passed. At the time, he had counted himself lucky that Timothy hadn't woken.
Timothy grimaced, trying to smile but failing miserably. Drawing nonsensical patterns on Donald's chest with his fingertips, he said, "I'm sorry if I woke you. I should've known..."
Donald tugged on Tim's hand, still grasped within his own, fighting resistance until his partner cooperated and curled next to him. It was a mirror of how they normally lay - usually, Donald loved pressing his ear to Tim's chest as they fell asleep. He would wrap his arms wrapped around Timothy's waist, Tim's arms around his shoulders, feeling safer than he had once thought possible.
"Nothing to be sorry for." He paused for a moment, adding quietly, "It's not like you haven't done the same for me." Donald knew the words had struck some mark when some of the tension melted from Tim's body.
They were both quiet for some time, leaving Donald to wonder if Timothy had dozed off, when he finally spoke. "Thank you."
Startled, Donald began, "Timmy, you don't have to thank me..."
"For surviving," Timothy interrupted, kissing Donald's chest. "For saving Amy, and the centers." Another kiss. "For Kelly." And another. He leaned back, just enough to look at Donald with tear-bright eyes. "Thank you."
Speechless, Donald could only blink against the tears the honest words had caused, and nod. Timothy did smile then, the first true smile Donald had seen since they had come to bed. Eye brow arching, Tim said, "What's this? Donald Strachey with no retort?"
"Oh, I'll give you a retort," Donald said, laughing, feeling lighter than he had since Timothy's call from the parking garage. Leaning forward as best he could, he covered Tim's lips with his own, a slow, unhurried confirmation that they survived yet again. When they finally broke apart, Tim's eyes were glazed and Donald smiled. "I love you," he whispered. "How's that for a retort?"
Timothy smiled, and Donald knew he had said the right thing. "I love you, too. Always." When Donald moved to kiss him again, he was surprised when Tim stopped him, covering his lips with his fingers. "But if you think we're doing anything with my baby sister in the next room, you have another thing coming."
Donald couldn't help it - he burst out laughing. "What?" he finally asked, when he could breathe. "Your sister is hardly..."
"Not the point! She's my sister," Tim said, refusing to listen. He looked strangled, gesturing toward the door. "And she's right next door, Donald!"
"Oh, how I love you," Donald said, still laughing, and hugging his suddenly prudish partner tight. "Let's get some sleep then, alright?"
Mollified, Timothy smiled and nodded. Laying his head back on Donald's chest, Timothy wrapped his arms around his waist, squirming a bit before sighing happily. "I love you," he whispered, moments later, sounding more asleep than awake.
Smiling, Donald pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Tim's head. "I know," he replied, running his hands over Timothy's back. He let Tim's soft snores lull him to sleep, hoping that - just maybe - the nightmares would stay at bay. But more than anything, he fell asleep safe in the knowledge they could weather anything, together.
end