Strachey Mysteries Fic - Winding Roads (1/1)
Title: Winding Roads
Author: kaly
Series: Time Marches On
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1950
Characters/Pairing: Donald/Timothy
Category: angst, movieverse
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none
Summary: Even when times are rough, they'll make it through together.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing, no money earned.
Note: Third in a series of four.
Thank you to geminigrl11 for the beta.
When Donald got home, all he wanted to do was sleep for at least three days straight, even if he knew it would never happen. For over two weeks, he had gone from case to case, stakeout to stakeout and he was worn out. Not helping matters was that he and Timothy had been reduced to ships in the night, on their best days. And with everything that had been going on, the timing could have been much better.
It had been a tough road since Timothy's father had been diagnosed with lung cancer. Months of tests and waiting and operations and more waiting. What a spectacular row it had been to see after the initial diagnosis - Timothy ripping his father into shreds for still smoking after so many years, risking his life for nothing. Their fight, loud enough to send a dog howling next door, was one of the few times Donald had seen Tim truly come apart.
The only thing Donald was grateful for in the middle of the madness was the fact that the two of them had mended fences before the diagnosis. Donald wasn't sure if Tim could have coped with being on the outside, knowing his father was ever-so-slowly dying. And at the same time, he wasn't sure Tim would have trusted the reconciliation after the illness was known.
At home that evening after their fight, Donald had held Timothy as he had fallen to pieces. He had sobbed and pleaded - his fear and frustration pouring onto Donald's shoulder. All Donald could do was to hold on tight, rocking him slowly and murmuring nonsense. There was nothing he could say that could ever make it better.
Since then, Timothy had been the unwavering rock of his family. Trips to the doctor, discussions with specialists, vigils in the waiting room - Tim had coordinated it all. For months, he had been the one everyone else turned to. One night, he had finally broken down and admitted to Donald that he couldn't let himself doubt, or be seen as weak in front of the others with so much on the line. Even a late night visit from Kelly, pleading to let her help had gone unremarked.
So, Donald had made it his place to be the one Timothy could turn to, where weakness wasn't a sin. He had forced Tim to eat and rest when he could; he had talked to the senator about subtly lightening Tim's schedule; just held him when it all became too much.
Only, work was work and bills were bills. It was only Timothy's determined insistence that Donald had begun taking cases again. He hadn't meant to get so swamped, leaving Tim to face the rollercoaster alone, but it had happened all the same. And although he felt horrible about it, Donald knew without question Tim wouldn't bat an eye other than to worry about the strain on Donald.
To make himself feel better, and give Kelly something to focus on, when Timothy wasn't looking, he coordinated what he could with her. She was happy to help, frustrated with her stubborn brother's refusal of help. So, she stopped by and took over Timothy-minding duties occasionally, when Donald was trapped at work. It wasn't quite the same, but it helped ease Donald's mind a bit.
Dropping onto the couch, Donald slouched, letting his head loll back and his eyes fall closed. He let out a deep breath, just enjoying the fact he wasn't in motion for a moment, knowing it wouldn't last. Hearing the front door open and close, followed by Timothy's near-silent tread, Donald couldn't help but smile.
"You're home!" Timothy said, sounding pleased, if very tired.
Tilting his head to the right, Donald cracked open one eye and nodded. "Finally." However, getting a good look at his husband, Donald groaned and sat up straight. Timothy looked wrung out, his cheeks sunken. All in all, he looked even worse than the last time Donald had seen him. "You okay? Your dad?"
Timothy nodded, but sighed softly. "It's fine. Well. As fine as it can be."
Taking off his jacket, Tim laid it across the back of a chair. His bag joined the jacket on the chair, and Timothy sat beside Donald. Leaning until his head was on Donald's shoulder, Donald could feel the tension radiating off his partner.
Wrapping his arm around Tim's shoulders, Donald let himself truly breathe for the first time in two weeks. His arms ached at finally being able to hold Tim again for more than just a couple of hours' sleep.
They were quiet for a while, content to just be together - a luxury Donald was looking forward to relearning, if life would just cooperate.
After a bit, Timothy asked, "Your case done?" He twisted enough to look Donald up and down, brow creased in concern. "You're not hurt, are you?"
Donald shook his head, Timothy's hair ticking his cheek. "I'm fine. And, yeah, the case is done. Thank God. I'm all yours."
"Good," Tim replied, relaxing against Donald once more. "Be nice to actually see you again when we're actually awake."
He felt guilty - though he knew that Timothy more than understood the demands of his job, even with the chaos his life had become. They wouldn't have survived one year, much less fifteen, if he didn't.
"You, too." Donald ran his thumb across Tim's knuckles before asking, "You're sure you're okay? You look beat."
Timothy sighed heavily. "I'm tired, but okay. I think it's just catching up to me, is all."
Although he hated to hear the exhausted words, Donald was relieved that Timothy was admitting to his limitations. Early on, he had worried what it was going to take before Tim admitted he couldn't carry everything. If he was lucky, Tim might come to the conclusion without a breakdown. Lord knew he wouldn't take Donald's word for it - he had tried, and failed miserably.
"So? How is your dad?" It was his second standard question. First, he wanted to know how Tim was holding up, then, how his dad was doing. Donald knew the second was of far more import to his partner, and he had learned to keep any disagreement on that to himself.
Timothy took a stuttering breath, holding it briefly before exhaling. "I talked to Mom from the office. She said that today was a good day. And Kelly came by for lunch. She had been over this morning." Taking one of Donald's hands in his own, Timothy tangled their fingers together. "He's home - which makes both him and Mom happy - and not in too much pain, which makes everyone happy."
Squeezing Tim's shoulders, Donald kissed him on the temple. "That's something." Donald ran his fingers through Timothy's hair, knowing Tim found the movement soothing. "I hate that I've not been around."
Timothy nodded. Bringing their joined hands to his lips, Tim kissed the back of Donald's hand. "I understand," Timothy replied, shaking his head. "You have to work. I'm the one who reminded you of that, remember?"
Wishing there was some way to have it both ways - but knowing he would end up in the same boat he was fighting to keep Tim out of - Donald shrugged. "Still."
"I know." Timothy sat back, not letting go of Donald's hand, and Donald let his arm fall to the couch. "And I love you for it. But really, I understand."
Donald smiled sadly, brushing Tim's cheek with his free hand. "Either way, I'm home now. The office is taken care of and I'm not letting you out of my sight." Winking, Donald added, "Or this house."
Taking a deep breath, Timothy started to speak, but stopped. Donald's curiosity was getting the better of him when Tim finally said, "Actually, I was thinking..."
Nervous, Donald asked, "Oh yeah?"
Timothy glanced at Donald through his lashes, smiling almost bashfully. "What if we got away for a couple of days?" Surprised at Tim's willingness to leave, and a little dismayed at the idea of moving, Donald opened his mouth to reply but Tim cut him off. "I think I - we - need to get away. No work, no doctors. Maybe find a B&B up north, go see those fall colors everyone talks about."
Donald could tell Timothy had put some thought into it, and felt his resistance to the idea melt away. When Timothy sighed a moment later, Donald's worry, however, increased at just how close his husband really was to falling to pieces. "You're sure?"
"We'd have to take our cells, in case they needed me, but..." Timothy's voice trailed off as he stared off into space for several seconds. Shaking his head, as though it might clear it, Tim glanced back at Donald. "Yeah, I think we could both use some time for us. Just me and you, and a million New England leaves."
Although the thought of being cooped up in the car any more than absolutely necessary grated, Donald was intrigued by the idea of an escape for just the two of them. And he was downright stunned that Timothy was suggesting it. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Donald nodded. "I suppose I can refuse to let you out of bed at a B&B, as easily as I could here."
Timothy chuckled, a pale imitation of his normal laugh, but a welcome reward all the same. "I rather like that idea. We could maybe find one with room service."
"Oh, I'd say we have to," Donald said, smiling softly. "I might let you go as far as a bubble bath." More seriously, he added, "I think we both need a break, honey." Timothy nodded, staring at their hands. "And I'm not going to question you for admitting it, but I am glad you did."
Tim winced, before glancing at Donald sheepishly. "I can't not help them. What if I didn't, and... God, Donald, he's my dad."
"I know." Unable to take the distance any longer, Donald scooted across the couch until he could wrap both arms around Tim's shoulders. Without prompting, Timothy wrapped his own arms around Donald's waist, and pressed his face to Donald's throat. "I know, baby. And so do they. But you've been scaring me - us - for weeks. Even before I went AWOL on you. You have to let the others take some of the burden."
"I'm sorry," Tim whispered against Donald's skin. "I just want to make it better."
Donald sighed, glancing skyward. "I know, but please don't be sorry. You wouldn't let me apologize for working. Well, you don't get to apologize for loving your father. But your sister loves you both, too. Don't shut her out." Shaking Tim gently, Donald leaned back just enough so he could see his husband's face. "Okay?"
Hesitantly, Timothy nodded, before slumping in Donald's arms and letting his eyes close. "Thank you. I get a little... blind, sometimes."
That was the understatement of the year, Donald thought. Eyes burning, Donald swallowed roughly. "You're welcome. You do such a good job at supporting everyone else - especially me - but sometimes it's my turn to hold you up."
"I love you," Timothy whispered, shivering in Donald's arms, and growing heavy with encroaching sleep.
Donald smiled, relaxing a bit against the couch. He rearranged them a bit, trying to find a more comfortable position. They both needed rest, and dinner and trip planning could easily wait a couple of hours. Worst case, Donald's back might bark at him later, but he could deal with that then. A sore back was a small price to pay for a fleeting moment's peace together.
His own eyes drifting closed, Donald whispered, "I love you, too."
end
Author: kaly
Series: Time Marches On
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1950
Characters/Pairing: Donald/Timothy
Category: angst, movieverse
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none
Summary: Even when times are rough, they'll make it through together.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing, no money earned.
Note: Third in a series of four.
Thank you to geminigrl11 for the beta.
When Donald got home, all he wanted to do was sleep for at least three days straight, even if he knew it would never happen. For over two weeks, he had gone from case to case, stakeout to stakeout and he was worn out. Not helping matters was that he and Timothy had been reduced to ships in the night, on their best days. And with everything that had been going on, the timing could have been much better.
It had been a tough road since Timothy's father had been diagnosed with lung cancer. Months of tests and waiting and operations and more waiting. What a spectacular row it had been to see after the initial diagnosis - Timothy ripping his father into shreds for still smoking after so many years, risking his life for nothing. Their fight, loud enough to send a dog howling next door, was one of the few times Donald had seen Tim truly come apart.
The only thing Donald was grateful for in the middle of the madness was the fact that the two of them had mended fences before the diagnosis. Donald wasn't sure if Tim could have coped with being on the outside, knowing his father was ever-so-slowly dying. And at the same time, he wasn't sure Tim would have trusted the reconciliation after the illness was known.
At home that evening after their fight, Donald had held Timothy as he had fallen to pieces. He had sobbed and pleaded - his fear and frustration pouring onto Donald's shoulder. All Donald could do was to hold on tight, rocking him slowly and murmuring nonsense. There was nothing he could say that could ever make it better.
Since then, Timothy had been the unwavering rock of his family. Trips to the doctor, discussions with specialists, vigils in the waiting room - Tim had coordinated it all. For months, he had been the one everyone else turned to. One night, he had finally broken down and admitted to Donald that he couldn't let himself doubt, or be seen as weak in front of the others with so much on the line. Even a late night visit from Kelly, pleading to let her help had gone unremarked.
So, Donald had made it his place to be the one Timothy could turn to, where weakness wasn't a sin. He had forced Tim to eat and rest when he could; he had talked to the senator about subtly lightening Tim's schedule; just held him when it all became too much.
Only, work was work and bills were bills. It was only Timothy's determined insistence that Donald had begun taking cases again. He hadn't meant to get so swamped, leaving Tim to face the rollercoaster alone, but it had happened all the same. And although he felt horrible about it, Donald knew without question Tim wouldn't bat an eye other than to worry about the strain on Donald.
To make himself feel better, and give Kelly something to focus on, when Timothy wasn't looking, he coordinated what he could with her. She was happy to help, frustrated with her stubborn brother's refusal of help. So, she stopped by and took over Timothy-minding duties occasionally, when Donald was trapped at work. It wasn't quite the same, but it helped ease Donald's mind a bit.
Dropping onto the couch, Donald slouched, letting his head loll back and his eyes fall closed. He let out a deep breath, just enjoying the fact he wasn't in motion for a moment, knowing it wouldn't last. Hearing the front door open and close, followed by Timothy's near-silent tread, Donald couldn't help but smile.
"You're home!" Timothy said, sounding pleased, if very tired.
Tilting his head to the right, Donald cracked open one eye and nodded. "Finally." However, getting a good look at his husband, Donald groaned and sat up straight. Timothy looked wrung out, his cheeks sunken. All in all, he looked even worse than the last time Donald had seen him. "You okay? Your dad?"
Timothy nodded, but sighed softly. "It's fine. Well. As fine as it can be."
Taking off his jacket, Tim laid it across the back of a chair. His bag joined the jacket on the chair, and Timothy sat beside Donald. Leaning until his head was on Donald's shoulder, Donald could feel the tension radiating off his partner.
Wrapping his arm around Tim's shoulders, Donald let himself truly breathe for the first time in two weeks. His arms ached at finally being able to hold Tim again for more than just a couple of hours' sleep.
They were quiet for a while, content to just be together - a luxury Donald was looking forward to relearning, if life would just cooperate.
After a bit, Timothy asked, "Your case done?" He twisted enough to look Donald up and down, brow creased in concern. "You're not hurt, are you?"
Donald shook his head, Timothy's hair ticking his cheek. "I'm fine. And, yeah, the case is done. Thank God. I'm all yours."
"Good," Tim replied, relaxing against Donald once more. "Be nice to actually see you again when we're actually awake."
He felt guilty - though he knew that Timothy more than understood the demands of his job, even with the chaos his life had become. They wouldn't have survived one year, much less fifteen, if he didn't.
"You, too." Donald ran his thumb across Tim's knuckles before asking, "You're sure you're okay? You look beat."
Timothy sighed heavily. "I'm tired, but okay. I think it's just catching up to me, is all."
Although he hated to hear the exhausted words, Donald was relieved that Timothy was admitting to his limitations. Early on, he had worried what it was going to take before Tim admitted he couldn't carry everything. If he was lucky, Tim might come to the conclusion without a breakdown. Lord knew he wouldn't take Donald's word for it - he had tried, and failed miserably.
"So? How is your dad?" It was his second standard question. First, he wanted to know how Tim was holding up, then, how his dad was doing. Donald knew the second was of far more import to his partner, and he had learned to keep any disagreement on that to himself.
Timothy took a stuttering breath, holding it briefly before exhaling. "I talked to Mom from the office. She said that today was a good day. And Kelly came by for lunch. She had been over this morning." Taking one of Donald's hands in his own, Timothy tangled their fingers together. "He's home - which makes both him and Mom happy - and not in too much pain, which makes everyone happy."
Squeezing Tim's shoulders, Donald kissed him on the temple. "That's something." Donald ran his fingers through Timothy's hair, knowing Tim found the movement soothing. "I hate that I've not been around."
Timothy nodded. Bringing their joined hands to his lips, Tim kissed the back of Donald's hand. "I understand," Timothy replied, shaking his head. "You have to work. I'm the one who reminded you of that, remember?"
Wishing there was some way to have it both ways - but knowing he would end up in the same boat he was fighting to keep Tim out of - Donald shrugged. "Still."
"I know." Timothy sat back, not letting go of Donald's hand, and Donald let his arm fall to the couch. "And I love you for it. But really, I understand."
Donald smiled sadly, brushing Tim's cheek with his free hand. "Either way, I'm home now. The office is taken care of and I'm not letting you out of my sight." Winking, Donald added, "Or this house."
Taking a deep breath, Timothy started to speak, but stopped. Donald's curiosity was getting the better of him when Tim finally said, "Actually, I was thinking..."
Nervous, Donald asked, "Oh yeah?"
Timothy glanced at Donald through his lashes, smiling almost bashfully. "What if we got away for a couple of days?" Surprised at Tim's willingness to leave, and a little dismayed at the idea of moving, Donald opened his mouth to reply but Tim cut him off. "I think I - we - need to get away. No work, no doctors. Maybe find a B&B up north, go see those fall colors everyone talks about."
Donald could tell Timothy had put some thought into it, and felt his resistance to the idea melt away. When Timothy sighed a moment later, Donald's worry, however, increased at just how close his husband really was to falling to pieces. "You're sure?"
"We'd have to take our cells, in case they needed me, but..." Timothy's voice trailed off as he stared off into space for several seconds. Shaking his head, as though it might clear it, Tim glanced back at Donald. "Yeah, I think we could both use some time for us. Just me and you, and a million New England leaves."
Although the thought of being cooped up in the car any more than absolutely necessary grated, Donald was intrigued by the idea of an escape for just the two of them. And he was downright stunned that Timothy was suggesting it. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Donald nodded. "I suppose I can refuse to let you out of bed at a B&B, as easily as I could here."
Timothy chuckled, a pale imitation of his normal laugh, but a welcome reward all the same. "I rather like that idea. We could maybe find one with room service."
"Oh, I'd say we have to," Donald said, smiling softly. "I might let you go as far as a bubble bath." More seriously, he added, "I think we both need a break, honey." Timothy nodded, staring at their hands. "And I'm not going to question you for admitting it, but I am glad you did."
Tim winced, before glancing at Donald sheepishly. "I can't not help them. What if I didn't, and... God, Donald, he's my dad."
"I know." Unable to take the distance any longer, Donald scooted across the couch until he could wrap both arms around Tim's shoulders. Without prompting, Timothy wrapped his own arms around Donald's waist, and pressed his face to Donald's throat. "I know, baby. And so do they. But you've been scaring me - us - for weeks. Even before I went AWOL on you. You have to let the others take some of the burden."
"I'm sorry," Tim whispered against Donald's skin. "I just want to make it better."
Donald sighed, glancing skyward. "I know, but please don't be sorry. You wouldn't let me apologize for working. Well, you don't get to apologize for loving your father. But your sister loves you both, too. Don't shut her out." Shaking Tim gently, Donald leaned back just enough so he could see his husband's face. "Okay?"
Hesitantly, Timothy nodded, before slumping in Donald's arms and letting his eyes close. "Thank you. I get a little... blind, sometimes."
That was the understatement of the year, Donald thought. Eyes burning, Donald swallowed roughly. "You're welcome. You do such a good job at supporting everyone else - especially me - but sometimes it's my turn to hold you up."
"I love you," Timothy whispered, shivering in Donald's arms, and growing heavy with encroaching sleep.
Donald smiled, relaxing a bit against the couch. He rearranged them a bit, trying to find a more comfortable position. They both needed rest, and dinner and trip planning could easily wait a couple of hours. Worst case, Donald's back might bark at him later, but he could deal with that then. A sore back was a small price to pay for a fleeting moment's peace together.
His own eyes drifting closed, Donald whispered, "I love you, too."
end