Strachey Mysteries Fic - On the Ride (2/2)
Title: On the Ride
Author: kaly
Series: Surprises
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 13,150
Characters/Pairing: Donald/Timothy
Category: movieverse
Warnings: futurefic
Spoilers: none
Summary: With the cat out of the bag, where do they go next?
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing, no money earned.
Note: Picks up where another story of mine, Out of the Blue, left off.
Thank you to geminigrl11 for the beta.
Split into two parts, due to length.
Part One | Part Two
At work the next day, Donald's thoughts bounced between the photographs he was sorting through, and the fact that Megan had gone for her own test that morning. He managed to get everything organized and delivered to the proper recipients, at least. Timothy would be happy - he already received one of the payments.
He had barely walked in the front door that night when he heard the phone ringing. Pausing, Donald listened to hear if Timothy was going to pick up before jogging across the room. The ringing was coming from the general direction of the couch, and Donald tossed several cushions aside before he found the phone. They really needed to lo-jack the thing.
"Hello?"
"Hey!" Donald smiled at Megan's enthusiastic greeting. "How was it? I tried calling your cell but it went straight to voicemail."
Wincing, Donald pulled his cell out of his jeans pocket and saw it was dead. He couldn't help but sigh, Tim would have his hide if he knew. After so long, Donald had been seriously tempted to just record Timothy's standard "your cell phone needs to stay on, Donald" lecture.
"Sorry about that. The battery's dead."
There was a faint rustling noise, which Donald assumed indicated a shrug. "No big. I just called the house until you answered." Groaning, Donald walked into the kitchen to wipe the caller ID history. If Timothy saw that, he was toast for sure.
Bringing up the log, Donald found that she had indeed been calling for a while. "Twelve times? Seriously?"
"I was impatient," Megan said, giggling. "I'm a teenager, it's expected."
Her comment drove home to Donald how little he really knew about teenagers, much less being a parent to one. "Apparently."
Ignoring him, Megan said, "So? You didn't say how it went."
Donald returned to the living room, dropping onto the couch. "It went fine. Took all of thirty seconds." Curious as to the third-degree, Donald wondered if her test had been different. "Yours? Everything go okay?"
"One mutant Q-tip on its way as we speak."
Relieved, Donald nodded. "That's good. It's going to take a bit to find out. You know that, right?"
Donald mentally crossed his fingers, hoping she didn't research the testing on her own. He knew the odds weren't good, but maybe they would get lucky and she would be too busy with the end of her senior year to call them on it.
Megan sighed. "I know. Sucks."
Laughing, Donald slouched back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. "It does indeed."
It had occurred to Donald more than once since meeting Megan, how surprising her reaction was. He would have understood if she was angry or bitter - teenage angst was something he remembered a little too well - but she was anything but. Part of him wanted to ask her, but he was wary to bring it up.
"You're handling all of this remarkably well," Donald ventured, not able to help himself. Waiting on her answer, Donald chewed on his lower lip nervously.
Megan was silent for a moment, and Donald was beginning to regret bringing it up before she finally replied. "I always wondered about you. And yeah, it's made me mad at times, not being like most of my friends, not knowing who or where you are, if you cared." She sighed, and Donald held his breath. "Me and Mom have fought about it, but after I got home we actually talked about it, ya know?"
Almost relieved to hear that Megan wasn't as scarily mature as she appeared, Donald exhaled slowly. Thus far, she had almost scared him with how well she was taking everything. She certainly wasn't like he had been as a teenager. Thank God for small favors was all Donald cold think.
"That's good. That you talked."
"Yeah." She paused, and Donald was considering his response when she said, "It was interesting, hearing why things happened the way they did."
Donald couldn't help but wish for - and dread - that exact conversation with Christine. He was curious, himself.
"And I do wish things could've been different. I wish I'd been like the other kids." She sounded wistful, and Donald's heart ached. He remembered that feeling far too well from his own youth, even if their reasons were different. Donald wished she could have been spared that. "I would see them with both their mom and dad... And yeah, I'm mad I never had the chance."
"I'm sorry."
"So's she," Megan admitted, surprising Donald. "But mostly, I'm trying to be happy that I've got you now. I've got you both now, and I don't want to mess it up by being mad when it doesn't solve anything. It doesn't let me go back in time and find you sooner, or convince Mom to call you."
Her voice dropped to a whisper, "I don't want to scare you away and lose you."
Again echoed silently.
Rubbing a hand over his face, Donald sighed. "Not going to happen."
"You say that, but..."
"And I mean it." Donald blinked slowly, considering his next words carefully. "It's okay to be mad. You're a teenager, it's practically expected. Worse, this is a crazy situation, even for me and your mom."
Megan laughed softly. "You've got that right. It's nuts!" There a pause before she changed the subject, exclaiming, "Oh! Speaking of crazy... I sent your invitation today. I still don't understand why I couldn't just give you one when you were here."
Donald couldn't quite answer that one either. "It's tradition." Apparently, he added silently. He hadn't actually sent any out when he was a senior, but that's what Timothy had told him, and who was he to argue?
"Whatever." She laughed, and Donald smiled automatically. "You can be a little weird. You know that right?"
Rolling his eyes, Donald shrugged. "Oh, no. Not me. You'll have to talk to Timothy about that one." He heard the front door open and close. "And speaking of, guess who just got home."
Timothy walked into the room, suit jacket over his arm and tie loosened. Donald wondered if the meetings he had mentioned were getting rough. Smiling, Donald waved at his husband, who dropped his jacket and bag on a chair.
"Yeah? Can I talk to him?"
Donald blinked, surprised by the request, but somehow not. "Sure," he said, holding the phone out to Tim, who gave him a curious look. "Megan."
Face lighting up, some of the work weariness lifting, Timothy took the phone. "Hello!" He winked at Donald, nodding absently, and saying, "Sure. I can do that." Without another word - and a curious smile at Donald - Timothy grabbed his belongings, and disappeared upstairs.
Perplexed, Donald could only stare at the now-empty stairs. "Huh."
When Timothy didn't come back down in a couple of minutes, Donald made his way to the kitchen. He might as well try to figure out something for dinner. It was his turn to cook, and even he was getting tired of takeout. Not that he would ever admit that out loud.
Living with Tim had taken Donald's once abysmal cooking skills to at least passable, sometimes even pretty good. He looked through the pantry and refrigerator a couple of times, debating. All the while, he kept an ear out for any signs of Tim returning downstairs.
In the crisper drawer, Donald found two ears of corn and the main compartment revealed two thawed steaks - Tim had apparently been thinking ahead. Placing both on the counter, Donald considered his remaining options before settling on mashed potatoes. They were instant, but hey - he was passable, not a gourmet.
The corn was boiling, and the steaks sizzling on the indoor grill when Timothy walked into the kitchen. Donald turned just in time to see his partner's clearly pleased expression at dinner in progress.
"Here you are," Tim said, handing Donald the phone. "I can take over here for a bit."
Donald handed Timothy the fork he was using to turn the steaks, and took the phone. "Thanks," he said to Tim, and then turning his attention to the phone. "Hello, again."
"I just wanted to say bye. Jessi's waiting for me downstairs. We have a chem final to study for."
Glancing at Timothy - who had his back to him, adding the potato flakes to a pot of boiling water - Donald's curiosity grew. "You should probably get to that."
"Will I see you soon?"
Donald took two plates out of the cabinet and put them on the table. "Graduation, at least."
She was quiet for a moment before asking, "Not sooner?"
Warmed by the fact she obviously did want to see him, Donald shrugged. "We'll see, okay? I can't promise, but I'll try."
"Not good enough," Megan said sternly, but ruined it by laughing. "Okay, I suppose. Let me know?"
"Will do. Go study."
"Goodnight!"
"Night," Donald replied, disconnecting the call.
Placing the phone on the table, Donald crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Tim's waist. He rested his chin on his husband's shoulder, watching for a moment as Timothy finished the potatoes.
"So..."
Tim couldn't quite hide his grin. "Yes?"
"What was that about?"
Twisting, Timothy handed Donald the potatoes to put on the table. "What was what all about?"
Donald glared, but took the bowl and stepped away reluctantly. "Don't try to play innocent. It may work on, well, everyone else, but not me. I know how devious you are."
"It works because it's true," Timothy replied, his attention back on the steaks which, judging by the smell, were almost done. He was proven right when a few seconds later, Timothy unplugged the grill. "Hand me the plates?" Donald complied, and was about to press, when Tim said, "Don't worry about it. She just wanted to ask me about something."
Surprised at the slight hurt he felt, Donald asked, "And she couldn't ask me."
Timothy handed him his plate, complete with both steak and corn, and rolled his eyes. "It would have kind of defeated the purpose, yes." More softly, he said, "Trust me, okay?"
"I do," Donald replied without hesitation. Shrugging, he put his plate on the table and went in search of drinks and steak sauce. "I'm just curious, is all."
Taking the bottle Donald offered him, Tim nodded. "I know. But good things come to those who wait." He paused, considering his words and added, "That phrase is apparently true in more ways than I would have imagined a week ago."
"Tell me about it." Donald took a moment to cut into his steak and take a bite. For several seconds, he was content just to enjoy the meal, but he couldn't quite stop himself. "You're not going to, are you?"
Pausing in his own meal, Timothy gave Donald a quizzical look. "Not going to what?"
"Tell me about it."
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Donald. Eat your dinner."
Laughing, Donald shrugged. "Can't fault me for trying."
"Eat!"
Timothy's annoyance was offset by his own laughter, and Donald nudged him happily with his shoulder. Resigned, Donald proceeded to do just that. Timothy hadn't been kidding when he had said things were about to get a lot more interesting.
~<>~<>~
The next couple of days passed in a blur. Long days spent chasing down leads. Longer nights spent struggling to stay awake in his car. Donald wasn't sure if he was grateful or not that he honestly didn't have time to think about anything but work.
He hadn't heard from Megan, and had hardly even seen Timothy. By the time he arrived home both nights, Tim was fast asleep, just barely acknowledging Donald's arrival. In turn, Donald had only just noticed when Timothy kissed him goodbye in the morning.
The case finally cracked late in the evening of the third day. His third stakeout in as many days, at the third different location, but Donald finally had the evidence his client needed. Happy - and looking forward to a full night's sleep - Donald stowed the camera away and headed home.
He stopped on the way and picked up a burger for dinner. Timothy had mentioned having plans that evening with his coworkers, some sort of Saturday evening event. It was a surprise, then, when he pulled into the drive and saw the living room lights on.
Grabbing his dinner and the camera, Donald locked the car and went inside. Soft music was playing in the main room, and Donald dropped the bags onto the kitchen table. He crossed to the other room, to find Timothy curled up on the couch, reading a book.
Donald took a seat beside Tim, glancing at the book's cover - A Tale of Two Cities - and smiled fondly. Literature wasn't his favorite subject, but he adored how Timothy could become lost in a novel for hours.
"What are you doing home already?" Donald asked, squeezing Tim's ankle lightly.
Glancing up from his book, fingertip marking his spot, Timothy smiled. "It's almost ten. We're done."
Surprised, Donald glanced at the clock to see Timothy was right. "Huh. Didn't seem that late."
"Probably not, considering the hours you've been pulling." Shaking his head, Tim added, "Or the amount of caffeine you're probably buzzing on right now."
Refusing to admit Timothy was right - though they both knew he was - Donald asked, "Want some of my French fries?"
"No, thank you," Tim said with a grimace. "We went out for Italian after the lecture."
Timothy had a fondness for Italian that never quite seemed to be satisfied. It really wasn't fair that it didn't extend to pizza, and Donald knew that Ralph agreed with him. He had been going to Luigi's since long before he knew Timothy.
Donald smiled and nodded, standing. "You're loss."
"I'm sure." Tim's voice was distant, his attention already refocused on his book. Donald wasn't quite back to the kitchen when Tim said, "Oh, there's mail on the counter."
Giving Tim an odd look - there was almost always mail on the counter waiting to be dealt with - Donald plucked a fry out of the bag as he flipped through the stack. He froze when he came to the envelope made of thick, ornate paper.
Donald startled when a hand slid up his back, turning to find Timothy had appeared behind him. It was rare that Tim managed to sneak up on him, and Donald took a deep breath.
"Thought you might like that," Tim said, gesturing toward the obvious invitation.
Nodding, Donald slipped a finger along the seal, the small silver 'C' sticker coming undone. Another envelope followed, with both his and Timothy's names handwritten on it. Inside was an ornate blue and silver card, which contained both the graduation announcement and a photograph.
Timothy took the photo of Megan in her cap and gown from Donald, and smiled. "She's beautiful."
Reading over the announcement again, Donald nodded. "Looks a lot like her mom did, from what I remember."
"Oh, I don't know." Donald glanced at Tim, waiting on him to continue. "I know it's not official yet, but..." Timothy pointed toward the picture. "Those are your eyes, through and though." It had been the eyes that Donald had been drawn to first, along with her hair. As though reading his mind, Tim added, "And you have the same hair color. Is Christine's...?
Shaking his head, Donald said, "No. Hers is dark brown."
"There you go then." The way Timothy said it, it was as though it had been proclaimed true with no questions. He handed the picture to Donald, and kissed him on the cheek. "Finish your dinner. I'll be on the couch with my book." Moving that direction, Tim laughed. "Have to find out how it ends!"
Rolling his eyes, still staring at the photograph, Donald said, "You've read it twice just since we met. I'm pretty sure it hasn't changed."
"All the same. I'll be in here when you're done."
Donald put the photo on the front of the refrigerator, held there by a novelty magnet that Kelly had brought them from Ireland. He straightened it minutely before groaning at his own silliness and turning back to his half-cold dinner.
He ate quickly - cold French fries were not something to be savored. Once done, he jogged up the stairs to shower and change. After three nights sitting in the car, even with having the chance to clean up between them, Donald wanted to crawl out of his skin.
In their room, Donald smiled to see his favorite flannel pants laid out on the bed, along with a t-shirt. Timothy really did spoil him, some days. At the thought of Tim - alone on the couch below - spurned Donald on.
While he was grateful they were comfortable enough with one another they could spend days apart and be none the worse for wear, Donald wasn't about to pass up the chance to reconnect after days apart. Especially when he knew another case could start at any time and they would be like ships in the night all over again.
Clean and wrapped in his robe, Donald headed back down, unsurprised in the least to find that Timothy hadn't moved. Different music was playing, but everything else remained exactly the same.
"Shove over," Donald said, trying to wiggle between Tim and the couch arm.
Timothy cut him an annoyed, if amused look, and complied grudgingly. A few moments later Tim was resting with his back against Donald's chest, sighing happily. He had carefully marked his place in the book, but for the time being, it was closed.
"Case done?"
Drawing his fingers up and down Tim's arm, pleased by the goose bumps that followed, Donald nodded. "I'll get the pictures developed tomorrow and deliver them."
"That's good," Timothy replied, snuggling up against Donald happily.
Remembering that Tim's own work had been hectic, and that he had no idea what was going on, Donald asked, "You?"
"I think the worst of it is past." Timothy shrugged, and captured Donald's roaming hand in his own. "And I'll sleep better tonight, with you home so early."
Wincing, Donald said, "Sorry."
"It's okay. Well, I don't like not knowing if you're safe, but..." Tim sighed, patting Donald's arm gently. "I'm used to it."
Donald hated that Tim had to be used to it, but was more grateful than he could say for his partner's continued understanding. It hadn't been quite so easy in the early days, and he knew Timothy still worried, but they had reached an acceptance - if not a peace - over it that Donald appreciated.
Realization striking, Donald grinned. "Tomorrow's Sunday."
"Why, what do you know? It is!" Tim replied, exaggerating.
Swatting at Timothy's arm, Donald growled. "What do you say we go to a movie after you get home from Mass?"
Tim turned suddenly, nearly catching Donald in the ribs with his elbow in his haste. He stared at Donald for several seconds, as though trying to determine if he was kidding. Finally he said, "You're serious."
"Sure." Donald couldn't help but think it really had been too long since they had just gone out for a lazy afternoon, if this was Tim's reaction. "What do you say?"
"Yes!" Grabbing Donald's cheeks in his hands, Timothy grinned and kissed him quickly. "We could take care of some shopping, too."
Eyes widening in horror, Donald asked, "We need to get Megan a gift, don't we?"
Tim looked confused by Donald's expression, and he nodded slowly. "Yes. Though I think you're probably covered, dear." Not willing to count on that just yet, Donald gave Timothy a pained look. "We'll figure something out. She's moving into the dorm, so there's a million things she'll need."
A knot in his stomach loosening, Donald smiled and rested his forehead against Tim's. "I don't think I could cope without you."
"Well, it's a good thing you don't have to then, huh?" Smiling at Donald fondly, Timothy shook his head. "If you were going to run me off, it would've been years ago. You're stuck."
Quirking an eyebrow, Donald slid his hands under Tim's shirt. "I like the sound of that.
Eyes darkening, Timothy gave Donald a salacious smile of his own. In a husky voice he said, "Thought you might."
"What do you say we give it a go?" Donald asked, scraping his fingernails lightly down Tim's back. "Wanna get stuck?"
He grinned when Timothy arched and the book fell onto the floor, forgotten. Sometimes, Donald couldn't help but think as he tugged Tim's shirt over his head, there were benefits to being out of pocket for days on end.
~<>~<>~
The weekend, once work had been finished, had gone better than Donald had hoped. They had slept in as late as church would allow Timothy to and took their time with breakfast, and just enjoyed reconnecting a bit. Well, in addition to their reconnection of a different sort on Saturday night, Donald thought with a grin.
No one else had been in the movie theater in the middle of a Sunday afternoon, and with as bad as the movie was, Donald understood why. He had amused himself by trying to convince Timothy to make out, laughing at each more and more strangled rebuff. By the time they had left, Tim had been bright red and glaring.
Walking out of the theater, Donald had slipped his hand into Tim's and squeezed it gently. It had earned him a softer look from his partner, and they went about shopping for Megan's gift with a renewed peace between them.
Timothy had steered him toward Bed, Bath & Beyond and Donald had groaned. He was so far out of his element he couldn't even begin to say. Luckily, Timothy had taken pity and they had found several things with a minimum of fuss. Donald had lived in the barracks, with pretty much everything provided for him. He was just glad Tim had a clue.
The rest of the day had been spent on chores - laundry and dishes and the ever-hated vacuuming. The highlight had been the water fight Donald had inadvertently started when he tried to help with the dishes. Cleaning up had taken longer than the fight, but it was worth it for the way Timothy let go, and laughed and laughed as they wrestled for control of the in-sink, extendable water nozzle.
So, it was in a much better mood that Donald went to work on Monday than he had left it on Saturday. He was well-rested and fed, and generally happy with his world. They had even discussed the possibility of a trip to Harrisburg over the coming weekend, if Christine agreed.
The week passed in a similar fashion, although Wednesday wasn't half over when his office door opened without so much as a knock. Donald was reaching for his weapon - you could never be too careful - when Timothy walked in and shut the door behind him.
Immediately worried - Tim looked nervous - Donald stood, asking, "What's wrong?"
Without a word, Tim held out a legal-sized envelope.
"Is that..." His voice faded, and he didn't move. "It's too soon."
Timothy nodded, still holding the letter. "I had them send it to the office, since I knew I'd be there to sign for it. And it is a day or so early. I had expected it by the end of the week."
Swallowing roughly, looking between Tim and the letter that could change so much, Donald asked, "Did you?"
"No," Tim replied, shaking his head. "I did call Christine. Their letter arrived today as well, but I asked her not to tell me." Moving closer, Timothy touched Donald's arm softly. "I wanted to find out with you."
Donald smiled faintly. "Thanks."
"Why don't you sit down before you fall?" Timothy guided him back to his chair, leaning against Donald's desk just as he had when they had discussed the testing. "Okay?"
Taking a deep breath, trying to clear his head, Donald nodded. "I'm good." Staring at Tim's hands - and what they held - Donald said, "I guess this is it."
Timothy smiled, and ran his hand through Donald's hair. "It'll be okay."
"Yeah," Donald replied, taking a shaky breath. Do or die time.
Laughing, Tim patted Donald's cheek. "Megan's accepted you regardless. She knows it might not be true." Donald looked at Timothy, surprised by the frank words. He wouldn't have guessed it from talking to her. "She really does, I promise. And she was still asking me yesterday about coming to visit us after she gets home from her senior trip." Tim smiled mysteriously, adding, "Around time for Father's Day, I think."
Ignoring the latter, it seemed too much like jinxing it, Donald focused on the former. "I'm not sure it's just me she's attached to," Donald said, bolstered by Tim's words.
Although he smiled, Tim's only reply was to shake the letter. "Now or never."
Wishing he could share his husband's certainty, Donald took the letter with a trembling hand. He grabbed a letter opener off his desk and slit the top open neatly, pulling out a single sheet of paper.
There was a short paragraph at the top, followed by several scientific notations. Below it all was the single line that truly mattered.
Paternal DNA Match: Positive
Donald felt lightheaded, and looked up to stare at Timothy.
"Well?"
"It's..." Donald stopped, coughing to clear his throat and blinking quickly. "It's positive."
Laughing, Tim leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Donald's shoulders. "I knew it." Donald didn't - couldn't - return the hug, but leaned thankfully against his partner. When Timothy pulled back, his eyes were suspiciously bright.
Reality sinking through the shock, Donald smiled. Dropping the letter on the desk, he cupped Tim's face in his hands and kissed him soundly. When he pulled back, gasping for air, Donald laughed.
"Congratulations, Dad."
Blinking slowly, Donald nodded. "Oh my God."
Timothy stood, straightening his jacket as he did so. "You should call Christine." Donald nodded vaguely, his mind already debating how to break the news to Megan. "And we have to go out and celebrate."
Hearing Tim's words as though on a time delay, Donald finally caught up to what he said. "Dinner and dancing?"
"It's a date," Timothy proclaimed, kissing Donald on the cheek before turning to leave. "Pick me up at six?"
Donald smiled, loving his husband more in that moment than he would have thought possible. Most men would have turned tail and run, but not his Timmy.
"With bells on."
Rolling his eyes, Timothy grinned and waved, before disappearing into the hall. Donald slouched in his chair, eyes tracking back to the letter. He picked it up once more, running his fingers over the bolded words.
Positive
He picked up the phone with shaking hands, taking two tries to dial Christine's number. Donald didn't question when he had learned it; so much had changed over such little time.
"Christine Cooper."
"Hey, it's me." Donald took a deep breath, before exhaling slowly. "Tim said you got your letter. Open it yet?"
There was a beat of silence, followed by, "Yeah. No surprises."
Donald winced, feeling a flash of guilt for doubting what Christine never had. "I... Wow."
"Megan will be thrilled," Christine said, laughing softly. "I think she's trying to convince herself she'll be okay if not, but..." She sighed. "I don't think she ever doubted. Especially after she met you."
Staring at the letter, Donald admitted, "I wondered, but... I had a feeling." When she didn't say anything, Donald asked, "We were thinking, what if we came for a visit?"
Christine seemed to consider this for a moment. "If you wanted to drive down, prom's this weekend."
"Prom?" Donald blinked, confused. "Graduation is the next week."
"I know. The gym was flooded and they delayed it until now. They threatened to cancel it." Christine laughed, before sighing. "You should've heard Megan. The humanity of it all!"
"Oh." Donald couldn't help but remember his own senior prom, and how against all odds, it had led him - them - here. He couldn't decide if it seemed fitting to be there, or if it was the last place he should be.
"How about you help me see her off? It'd be..." Maybe she was thinking along the same lines, because Christine sighed softly. "It'd be full circle, I suppose."
Swallowing audibly, Donald nodded. "I'd like that."
"And I'd like the chance to actually meet Timothy in person."
Smiling, Donald chuckled. "He wants to meet you, too."
There was a fluttering of papers on the other end of the line, followed by clicking keys. "A group of them are going together, and the limo is due at our house at six. Why don't you get here around five, and you can surprise her when she comes downstairs?"
It sounded so different than his own sordid plans for prom night had been. Part of Donald was still ashamed with how he had behaved back then, he had treated Christine horribly. A newer voice reminded him that something good had come of it, even if he had been kept from the game far too long.
"I'd like that. We'll call when we're almost there."
"See you then."
Christine hung up and Donald stared at the phone for a few moments. Looking at the letter once more, it really began to sink in. Donald laid his head on the desk, taking several deep breaths.
He had a daughter.
Holy Mary, Mother of God.
~<>~<>~
Work stayed steady throughout the remainder of the week, passing the time but not running Donald ragged. He was thankful for that fact; it kept him grounded during the day, and Timothy stopped him from working himself up too badly at night when it was quiet.
Talking to Megan was both wonderful and torture, and he was beginning to regret waiting to tell her. However, he held firm, listening as she filled him in on all the details of her impending prom night. He wanted to warn her away from boys like him, but she beat him to it.
She sounded remarkably mature when she admitted she knew enough about what had happened between Donald and Christine not to make the same mistake. While she cared for the guy she was going with, neither he nor his hormones were getting in between her and campus in the fall.
To say Donald had been relieved would have been an understatement.
By the time Saturday morning rolled around, Donald was both anxious and impatient. Timothy had laughed at him over breakfast, and steadfastly refused him more than one cup of coffee. Donald's glare had done little to change Tim's mind.
The trip was only five hours, but Donald was ready to go by eleven. Standing at the foot of the stairs, he called out, "Are you ready yet?"
His only response was a balled up pair of socks flying past his head. "I guess not."
Timothy ducked his head around the corner, and gave Donald an exasperated grin. "We have plenty of time."
"I don't want to get caught in traffic," Donald said, watching as Timothy disappeared once more. He crossed his arms over his chest. "And I want to have time to eat."
Walking down the stairs, Timothy just shook his head. "We will. And we'll have time to check in at the hotel." As he reached Donald's side, he patted his cheek affectionately. "I promise. Just relax."
"I can't relax," Donald muttered, pouting at his husband.
Timothy's eyes were bright with his good humor. "Really? I hadn't noticed."
Donald gestured toward his watch. 11:05. "Can we go, please?"
"Yes, yes!" Timothy laughed, pushing Donald toward the door. Donald paused just long enough to pick up their bags. "We can go!"
The trip was uneventful; no traffic problems, and Timothy refrained from being too smug when they made it to their hotel in plenty of time. Donald was sure it hurt him, but Tim managed to hold back from a single 'I told you so'. Tim called and spoke with Christine while Donald checked them into their room.
There was a small, mom-and-pop looking pizzeria across the street and Donald wondered how frazzled he must look, when Timothy suggested it for dinner. He gave his husband a second glance, but wasn't willing to pass up such a gift.
Once seated, their order placed, Donald tried to relax. The longer they were in the car, the tighter his back had become. He was impatient to see Megan, and more relieved than he could say to have Timothy there with him. Donald squeezed Tim's hand under the table, smiling softly.
"It'll be fine."
Donald nodded, believing it when Tim said it, and deep down, he thought it would, too. It was just so different, so overwhelming, it was easy to focus on all the things that could go wrong. "I know."
Their pizza arrived a little later - half Hawaiian with pepperoni, as was Donald's preference, and half vegetarian, as Timothy preferred on occasion. Judging by Megan's order when she had visited, it was something Donald was going to have to get used to.
Timothy gestured toward the food, taking a slice for himself. "Now I know you're not yourself." Pressing a hand to Donald's forehead, Tim pretended to check for fever. "Donald Strachey never passes up pizza."
Swatting Tim's hand away, Donald laughed. "Stop it."
He kept an eye on the time as they ate. Christine was coming to pick them up at 4:45, so they wouldn't risk Megan seeing or hearing Donald's Toyota. He hadn't asked what story she had concocted to leave.
They finished just in time, Donald taking his change from the waiter when Timothy whispered, "I think that's her."
Donald turned in his seat, easily recognizing the dark-haired woman in a late model Honda. "That's her."
Steeling himself, Donald stood and took Timothy's hand. Ignoring the glance that earned them from the waiter, Donald led his husband outside and to the car. After getting in - Timothy in the front, Donald in the back - Donald introduced them. "Christine, this is my husband, Tim. Tim, this is Christine, Megan's mom."
Timothy smiled and nodded, genuinely pleased. "Nice to finally meet you in person."
"You, too," Christine said, smiling warmly. She glanced in the rearview mirror at Donald briefly before pulling out of the parking spot. "Good trip?"
Nodding, Donald sat back in the seat and willed his dinner to stay down. "No problems. Everything on schedule?"
Eyes on the road, Christine nodded. "Everything's okay so far." She gestured over her shoulder toward the backseat. "I told Megan I had to run and pick up a new memory card for the camera." Grinning, she added, "I'm counting on the fact she won't notice it's not a new card, it's just in a bag."
Timothy laughed. "Devious. I like that."
Smirking, Christine shrugged. "What she doesn't know..." With another glance at Donald, she asked, "We're still waiting?"
"I don't want to mess up her finals, and I want to be here for it." Donald paused, considering that Christine might not want to wait any longer. "You?"
She glanced away, and was quiet for a few seconds before agreeing quietly. "She's done with school, just so you're aware. This last week is just prep for graduation. But I'm fine with it, either way. It's waited this long."
Donald opened his mouth to comment, but then bit his tongue. It wasn't the time for him and Christine to debate, yet again, the fact he had to wait eighteen years to learn about the situation he had helped create.
It didn't help matters that he couldn't quite get a handle on her reactions. Sometimes, she seemed pleased to have him back in the picture; others she was distant and cool. Given their past, and the years in between, maybe she wasn't sure what to think or how to feel. Donald certainly wasn't at times.
"Here we are," Christine said, breaking Donald away from his thoughts and pulling into the garage. Turning in her seat and unbuckling, she added, "Stay here until I make sure the coast is clear, okay?"
They both nodded, and only once she was gone did Timothy speak. "Donald? Are you okay?"
He took a deep breath, holding it before exhaling nosily. "Yeah. I'm good."
"If you're sure..." Tim replied, giving him a glance that clearly showed he wasn't certain if he believed Donald.
Spotting Christine waving them in, Donald said, "I'm sure," as he climbed out of the car.
She held the door open for them, and motioned them toward the living room. "She's in her room, but will be down in a little while. Just sit tight, okay?"
"We can do that," Timothy replied, saving Donald from having to do it. He grasped Donald's elbow, and pulled him toward the couch. When they were seated, Tim leaned over and whispered, "Breathe, Donald."
Glancing at Tim, Donald twiddled his thumbs until his partner covered his hands. Donald sighed, full of too much nervous energy to contain, but he tried. "Sorry."
Timothy smiled, grasping Donald's hand. "It's okay."
He flashed Tim a grateful smile. "I love you."
Still smiling, Timothy nodded. "Never doubted it."
Christine walked down the stairs, breaking the moment. "Ready?"
They both stood, and nodded. "As I'll ever be," Donald muttered. He was happily surprised when Christine gave him a warm smile. "Is she ready?"
From where they were standing, neither Donald nor Timothy could see the top of the stairs, but judging by the way Christine looked up and smiled, Megan was indeed ready.
"The car won't be here for half an hour, Mom," Megan whined, her heels muffled by the carpet. "Why do I have to come down..."
Reaching the bottom, dressed to the nines in a floor-length navy gown, she fell silent and stared. It lasted for a split second - long enough for Donald to worry - when she screeched, "Donald!" and ran forward.
Megan threw her arms around his neck, squeezing tight. Donald laughed, wrapping his own arms around her small waist before gasping, "Need to breathe."
Pulling back, but still touching, Megan blinked quickly and punched him on the shoulder. "You didn't tell me you were coming!"
Grinning, Donald held his hands up innocently. "Surprise?"
"Oh yeah!" She turned toward Timothy, who was smiling happily at the both of them. Megan hesitated for a moment before throwing her arms around him as well. When she stepped away, Megan said, "I'm so glad you came!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Donald noticed Christine looked a little torn, but she was smiling all the same. Megan turned to her mother and said, "You knew."
Christine shrugged defiantly. "Guilty."
Smiling, too happy for anything to dim her spirits, Megan grabbed Donald's hand and pulled him to the kitchen table. She looked at her mom, and gestured her over with a tilt of her head. When Tim started to move back to the couch - Donald knew he didn't want to intrude, proper to the last - Megan snagged his arm. "Oh, no you don't."
Tim quirked an eyebrow, giving her an amused look before smirking at Donald. It was indeed possible Megan and Donald were a little bit alike, and that Timothy had realized it sooner than Donald himself had.
Megan had barely sat down when she asked, "Have you heard anything? You should've heard by now, based on what I read."
"Um..." Donald cringed. He was afraid she would read up on it on her own. Hell, Megan's fondness for internet research had helped bring them together in the first place. She looked at him with wide, blue eyes and Donald cracked completely. "Yeah, we've heard."
Both Christine and Timothy looked at him in shock. After all, it had been Donald who had pushed so hard to wait until graduation. Luckily for him, Megan was too busy staring at Donald to notice their reaction. He looked at Christine, who had recovered enough to nod, tapping a finger on the tabletop nervously.
"Well?" Megan asked, her voice pitching high. "Are you going to tell me?"
Donald smiled, unable to help himself. He wasn't able to speak before Megan flew around the table and latched her arms around his neck once more. "I knew it!"
Over her shoulder, Donald met Timothy's gaze, matching his soft smile. Patting her back, Donald nodded. "I guess you did."
Leaning back, she looked at him suspiciously. "How long have you known?"
He was saved by his knight in shining armor, when Timothy intervened. "We - all of us - wanted to tell you in person." It wasn't a lie, but dodged the fact they had all known for almost a week.
They were saved from further questioning when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" Megan cried, and was gone.
Donald risked a glance at Christine and smiled sheepishly. "I..."
"It's just as well." She smiled, standing and moving to follow Megan. "I wasn't sure how I was going to hold out another week anyway."
Laughing, Donald stood, waiting until Timothy followed. "You've held out since Monday. I cracked in five minutes."
"And they say women are the weaker sex," she replied with a smirk.
Holding his hands out in front of him, Donald shook his head. "Not me, I never said that." And considering Christine had raised Megan essentially alone, even if it was by her own choice, Donald certainly couldn't believe them weaker now.
"Smart man."
"Mom!" Megan yelled from the front room. "Donald! Come in here!"
Christine and Donald both winced; however, Timothy laughed heartily. "I do believe you've both been summoned," he said with an evil glee.
"You too, Tim!"
It was Timothy's turn to wince, and Donald laughed, patting him on the cheek. Christine disappeared into the other room with an amused glance at the two of them. Quietly, Donald said, "I think we've both got a lot to learn about this dad thing. Don't you agree?"
Smiling, his eyes warm, Timothy nodded. "I would say that's a distinct understatement. Might want to get out there before she summons us again, though." He smirked, "She has your indoor voice - the neighbors might complain."
Unable to argue that, Donald grinned. "Good point."
The next few minutes were a hustle and bustle meet and greet. They finally met the mysterious Jessi, as well as Thomas - Megan's date. Megan had held onto Donald's hand for most of it, showing him off to her friends as though she were the proud parent, not the other way around.
Donald couldn't help feeling that it was a little overwhelming. Instinctively, his eyes sought out Tim, who smiled encouragingly.
At one point, when Megan was distracted touching up Jessi's hair, Donald cornered Thomas with a glare. He had merely grinned maniacally when Thomas swallowed nervously.
When Megan turned back around, and saw how pale her date was, she narrowed her eyes at Donald. "What did you say?"
Donald held up his hands in surrender and answered honestly. "I didn't say a word."
She looked at Donald for several seconds, and then over at Timothy. "What did he say?"
Laughing, Timothy asked, "Why am I getting dragged into the middle of this?"
"Because you're supposed to be on my side!" she declared, any semblance of a straight face failing miserably.
Donald snickered, and wrapped an arm around Timothy's waist. "Sorry, kid. I got dibs."
Megan pouted, but it didn't last because a moment later a car horn honked outside. Christine glanced through the blinds and smiled. "Ride's here!"
Both girls squealed happily, although Thomas still looked rather queasy. Donald must have looked a little too proud, because Tim elbowed him in the ribs. "Behave!"
"Hold up!" Christine stepped in front of the three teenagers, armed with a camera. "Pictures, now!"
Donald felt a little wistful. There had been no pictures for him and Christine that night. There hadn't been a lot of the innocent things. Looking at Megan, who was busy mugging it up for the camera, Donald gave up wishing things had been different. There wasn't anything he could do about that. All he could do was enjoy the surprise he had been handed.
"You okay?" Timothy whispered in his ear, nudging Donald's shoulder with his own.
Donald thought for a moment before nodding. Giving Timothy a thankful smile, he squeezed his husband's hand. If any of the kids gave them a second glance, Donald didn't bother to look.
Turning his attention back to his daughter, Donald sighed. "I think I'm just about perfect."
Timothy didn't get to reply before Megan was dragging Donald in front of the camera as well. "Smile!" she demanded, high on life in a way only a teenager could manage.
"Yes, ma'am."
Christine shared an amused glance with Timothy, as she snapped several shots. Stepping forward, Timothy held out his hand. "May I?"
Donald held his breath as Christine stared at Tim. Eventually, she nodded and handed him the camera and smiled. "Please."
Megan standing between them, Donald didn't doubt they looked the perfect picture of the normal family they never could have been, no matter what happened. And yet, what made it perfect was that he was okay with that. Megan was okay with that. And he hoped Christine was growing more comfortable with it as well.
"Smile!" Timothy instructed, and Donald couldn't have disobeyed if he wanted to. The flash fired, and Tim winked at him. "Perfect."
Timothy was about to put the camera down when Megan said, "No, now you." She looked at her mother. "One more."
Christine nodded, taking the camera from a clearly surprised Timothy. "You heard the lady," she said, nudging him onward. "Her highness requests a picture."
It wasn't what Donald had planned, or expected out of his life. But looking at Megan and then Timothy, Donald realized that sometimes what you planned wasn't what mattered in the end. Life was unexpected - as if the Army hadn't taught him that - but occasionally it was unexpected in the best possible way.
Timothy glanced back at him, smiled warmly, nodding. He was clearly pleased that Megan had wanted to include him. Maybe their family wasn't 'normal' but it was theirs and it was perfect. Normal was overrated, anyway.
Donald turned toward the camera just in time for the picture to be taken, smiling so hard his face hurt.
Perfect, Timothy had said.
Damn straight.
End
Author: kaly
Series: Surprises
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 13,150
Characters/Pairing: Donald/Timothy
Category: movieverse
Warnings: futurefic
Spoilers: none
Summary: With the cat out of the bag, where do they go next?
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing, no money earned.
Note: Picks up where another story of mine, Out of the Blue, left off.
Thank you to geminigrl11 for the beta.
Split into two parts, due to length.
Part One | Part Two
At work the next day, Donald's thoughts bounced between the photographs he was sorting through, and the fact that Megan had gone for her own test that morning. He managed to get everything organized and delivered to the proper recipients, at least. Timothy would be happy - he already received one of the payments.
He had barely walked in the front door that night when he heard the phone ringing. Pausing, Donald listened to hear if Timothy was going to pick up before jogging across the room. The ringing was coming from the general direction of the couch, and Donald tossed several cushions aside before he found the phone. They really needed to lo-jack the thing.
"Hello?"
"Hey!" Donald smiled at Megan's enthusiastic greeting. "How was it? I tried calling your cell but it went straight to voicemail."
Wincing, Donald pulled his cell out of his jeans pocket and saw it was dead. He couldn't help but sigh, Tim would have his hide if he knew. After so long, Donald had been seriously tempted to just record Timothy's standard "your cell phone needs to stay on, Donald" lecture.
"Sorry about that. The battery's dead."
There was a faint rustling noise, which Donald assumed indicated a shrug. "No big. I just called the house until you answered." Groaning, Donald walked into the kitchen to wipe the caller ID history. If Timothy saw that, he was toast for sure.
Bringing up the log, Donald found that she had indeed been calling for a while. "Twelve times? Seriously?"
"I was impatient," Megan said, giggling. "I'm a teenager, it's expected."
Her comment drove home to Donald how little he really knew about teenagers, much less being a parent to one. "Apparently."
Ignoring him, Megan said, "So? You didn't say how it went."
Donald returned to the living room, dropping onto the couch. "It went fine. Took all of thirty seconds." Curious as to the third-degree, Donald wondered if her test had been different. "Yours? Everything go okay?"
"One mutant Q-tip on its way as we speak."
Relieved, Donald nodded. "That's good. It's going to take a bit to find out. You know that, right?"
Donald mentally crossed his fingers, hoping she didn't research the testing on her own. He knew the odds weren't good, but maybe they would get lucky and she would be too busy with the end of her senior year to call them on it.
Megan sighed. "I know. Sucks."
Laughing, Donald slouched back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. "It does indeed."
It had occurred to Donald more than once since meeting Megan, how surprising her reaction was. He would have understood if she was angry or bitter - teenage angst was something he remembered a little too well - but she was anything but. Part of him wanted to ask her, but he was wary to bring it up.
"You're handling all of this remarkably well," Donald ventured, not able to help himself. Waiting on her answer, Donald chewed on his lower lip nervously.
Megan was silent for a moment, and Donald was beginning to regret bringing it up before she finally replied. "I always wondered about you. And yeah, it's made me mad at times, not being like most of my friends, not knowing who or where you are, if you cared." She sighed, and Donald held his breath. "Me and Mom have fought about it, but after I got home we actually talked about it, ya know?"
Almost relieved to hear that Megan wasn't as scarily mature as she appeared, Donald exhaled slowly. Thus far, she had almost scared him with how well she was taking everything. She certainly wasn't like he had been as a teenager. Thank God for small favors was all Donald cold think.
"That's good. That you talked."
"Yeah." She paused, and Donald was considering his response when she said, "It was interesting, hearing why things happened the way they did."
Donald couldn't help but wish for - and dread - that exact conversation with Christine. He was curious, himself.
"And I do wish things could've been different. I wish I'd been like the other kids." She sounded wistful, and Donald's heart ached. He remembered that feeling far too well from his own youth, even if their reasons were different. Donald wished she could have been spared that. "I would see them with both their mom and dad... And yeah, I'm mad I never had the chance."
"I'm sorry."
"So's she," Megan admitted, surprising Donald. "But mostly, I'm trying to be happy that I've got you now. I've got you both now, and I don't want to mess it up by being mad when it doesn't solve anything. It doesn't let me go back in time and find you sooner, or convince Mom to call you."
Her voice dropped to a whisper, "I don't want to scare you away and lose you."
Again echoed silently.
Rubbing a hand over his face, Donald sighed. "Not going to happen."
"You say that, but..."
"And I mean it." Donald blinked slowly, considering his next words carefully. "It's okay to be mad. You're a teenager, it's practically expected. Worse, this is a crazy situation, even for me and your mom."
Megan laughed softly. "You've got that right. It's nuts!" There a pause before she changed the subject, exclaiming, "Oh! Speaking of crazy... I sent your invitation today. I still don't understand why I couldn't just give you one when you were here."
Donald couldn't quite answer that one either. "It's tradition." Apparently, he added silently. He hadn't actually sent any out when he was a senior, but that's what Timothy had told him, and who was he to argue?
"Whatever." She laughed, and Donald smiled automatically. "You can be a little weird. You know that right?"
Rolling his eyes, Donald shrugged. "Oh, no. Not me. You'll have to talk to Timothy about that one." He heard the front door open and close. "And speaking of, guess who just got home."
Timothy walked into the room, suit jacket over his arm and tie loosened. Donald wondered if the meetings he had mentioned were getting rough. Smiling, Donald waved at his husband, who dropped his jacket and bag on a chair.
"Yeah? Can I talk to him?"
Donald blinked, surprised by the request, but somehow not. "Sure," he said, holding the phone out to Tim, who gave him a curious look. "Megan."
Face lighting up, some of the work weariness lifting, Timothy took the phone. "Hello!" He winked at Donald, nodding absently, and saying, "Sure. I can do that." Without another word - and a curious smile at Donald - Timothy grabbed his belongings, and disappeared upstairs.
Perplexed, Donald could only stare at the now-empty stairs. "Huh."
When Timothy didn't come back down in a couple of minutes, Donald made his way to the kitchen. He might as well try to figure out something for dinner. It was his turn to cook, and even he was getting tired of takeout. Not that he would ever admit that out loud.
Living with Tim had taken Donald's once abysmal cooking skills to at least passable, sometimes even pretty good. He looked through the pantry and refrigerator a couple of times, debating. All the while, he kept an ear out for any signs of Tim returning downstairs.
In the crisper drawer, Donald found two ears of corn and the main compartment revealed two thawed steaks - Tim had apparently been thinking ahead. Placing both on the counter, Donald considered his remaining options before settling on mashed potatoes. They were instant, but hey - he was passable, not a gourmet.
The corn was boiling, and the steaks sizzling on the indoor grill when Timothy walked into the kitchen. Donald turned just in time to see his partner's clearly pleased expression at dinner in progress.
"Here you are," Tim said, handing Donald the phone. "I can take over here for a bit."
Donald handed Timothy the fork he was using to turn the steaks, and took the phone. "Thanks," he said to Tim, and then turning his attention to the phone. "Hello, again."
"I just wanted to say bye. Jessi's waiting for me downstairs. We have a chem final to study for."
Glancing at Timothy - who had his back to him, adding the potato flakes to a pot of boiling water - Donald's curiosity grew. "You should probably get to that."
"Will I see you soon?"
Donald took two plates out of the cabinet and put them on the table. "Graduation, at least."
She was quiet for a moment before asking, "Not sooner?"
Warmed by the fact she obviously did want to see him, Donald shrugged. "We'll see, okay? I can't promise, but I'll try."
"Not good enough," Megan said sternly, but ruined it by laughing. "Okay, I suppose. Let me know?"
"Will do. Go study."
"Goodnight!"
"Night," Donald replied, disconnecting the call.
Placing the phone on the table, Donald crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Tim's waist. He rested his chin on his husband's shoulder, watching for a moment as Timothy finished the potatoes.
"So..."
Tim couldn't quite hide his grin. "Yes?"
"What was that about?"
Twisting, Timothy handed Donald the potatoes to put on the table. "What was what all about?"
Donald glared, but took the bowl and stepped away reluctantly. "Don't try to play innocent. It may work on, well, everyone else, but not me. I know how devious you are."
"It works because it's true," Timothy replied, his attention back on the steaks which, judging by the smell, were almost done. He was proven right when a few seconds later, Timothy unplugged the grill. "Hand me the plates?" Donald complied, and was about to press, when Tim said, "Don't worry about it. She just wanted to ask me about something."
Surprised at the slight hurt he felt, Donald asked, "And she couldn't ask me."
Timothy handed him his plate, complete with both steak and corn, and rolled his eyes. "It would have kind of defeated the purpose, yes." More softly, he said, "Trust me, okay?"
"I do," Donald replied without hesitation. Shrugging, he put his plate on the table and went in search of drinks and steak sauce. "I'm just curious, is all."
Taking the bottle Donald offered him, Tim nodded. "I know. But good things come to those who wait." He paused, considering his words and added, "That phrase is apparently true in more ways than I would have imagined a week ago."
"Tell me about it." Donald took a moment to cut into his steak and take a bite. For several seconds, he was content just to enjoy the meal, but he couldn't quite stop himself. "You're not going to, are you?"
Pausing in his own meal, Timothy gave Donald a quizzical look. "Not going to what?"
"Tell me about it."
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Donald. Eat your dinner."
Laughing, Donald shrugged. "Can't fault me for trying."
"Eat!"
Timothy's annoyance was offset by his own laughter, and Donald nudged him happily with his shoulder. Resigned, Donald proceeded to do just that. Timothy hadn't been kidding when he had said things were about to get a lot more interesting.
~<>~<>~
The next couple of days passed in a blur. Long days spent chasing down leads. Longer nights spent struggling to stay awake in his car. Donald wasn't sure if he was grateful or not that he honestly didn't have time to think about anything but work.
He hadn't heard from Megan, and had hardly even seen Timothy. By the time he arrived home both nights, Tim was fast asleep, just barely acknowledging Donald's arrival. In turn, Donald had only just noticed when Timothy kissed him goodbye in the morning.
The case finally cracked late in the evening of the third day. His third stakeout in as many days, at the third different location, but Donald finally had the evidence his client needed. Happy - and looking forward to a full night's sleep - Donald stowed the camera away and headed home.
He stopped on the way and picked up a burger for dinner. Timothy had mentioned having plans that evening with his coworkers, some sort of Saturday evening event. It was a surprise, then, when he pulled into the drive and saw the living room lights on.
Grabbing his dinner and the camera, Donald locked the car and went inside. Soft music was playing in the main room, and Donald dropped the bags onto the kitchen table. He crossed to the other room, to find Timothy curled up on the couch, reading a book.
Donald took a seat beside Tim, glancing at the book's cover - A Tale of Two Cities - and smiled fondly. Literature wasn't his favorite subject, but he adored how Timothy could become lost in a novel for hours.
"What are you doing home already?" Donald asked, squeezing Tim's ankle lightly.
Glancing up from his book, fingertip marking his spot, Timothy smiled. "It's almost ten. We're done."
Surprised, Donald glanced at the clock to see Timothy was right. "Huh. Didn't seem that late."
"Probably not, considering the hours you've been pulling." Shaking his head, Tim added, "Or the amount of caffeine you're probably buzzing on right now."
Refusing to admit Timothy was right - though they both knew he was - Donald asked, "Want some of my French fries?"
"No, thank you," Tim said with a grimace. "We went out for Italian after the lecture."
Timothy had a fondness for Italian that never quite seemed to be satisfied. It really wasn't fair that it didn't extend to pizza, and Donald knew that Ralph agreed with him. He had been going to Luigi's since long before he knew Timothy.
Donald smiled and nodded, standing. "You're loss."
"I'm sure." Tim's voice was distant, his attention already refocused on his book. Donald wasn't quite back to the kitchen when Tim said, "Oh, there's mail on the counter."
Giving Tim an odd look - there was almost always mail on the counter waiting to be dealt with - Donald plucked a fry out of the bag as he flipped through the stack. He froze when he came to the envelope made of thick, ornate paper.
Donald startled when a hand slid up his back, turning to find Timothy had appeared behind him. It was rare that Tim managed to sneak up on him, and Donald took a deep breath.
"Thought you might like that," Tim said, gesturing toward the obvious invitation.
Nodding, Donald slipped a finger along the seal, the small silver 'C' sticker coming undone. Another envelope followed, with both his and Timothy's names handwritten on it. Inside was an ornate blue and silver card, which contained both the graduation announcement and a photograph.
Timothy took the photo of Megan in her cap and gown from Donald, and smiled. "She's beautiful."
Reading over the announcement again, Donald nodded. "Looks a lot like her mom did, from what I remember."
"Oh, I don't know." Donald glanced at Tim, waiting on him to continue. "I know it's not official yet, but..." Timothy pointed toward the picture. "Those are your eyes, through and though." It had been the eyes that Donald had been drawn to first, along with her hair. As though reading his mind, Tim added, "And you have the same hair color. Is Christine's...?
Shaking his head, Donald said, "No. Hers is dark brown."
"There you go then." The way Timothy said it, it was as though it had been proclaimed true with no questions. He handed the picture to Donald, and kissed him on the cheek. "Finish your dinner. I'll be on the couch with my book." Moving that direction, Tim laughed. "Have to find out how it ends!"
Rolling his eyes, still staring at the photograph, Donald said, "You've read it twice just since we met. I'm pretty sure it hasn't changed."
"All the same. I'll be in here when you're done."
Donald put the photo on the front of the refrigerator, held there by a novelty magnet that Kelly had brought them from Ireland. He straightened it minutely before groaning at his own silliness and turning back to his half-cold dinner.
He ate quickly - cold French fries were not something to be savored. Once done, he jogged up the stairs to shower and change. After three nights sitting in the car, even with having the chance to clean up between them, Donald wanted to crawl out of his skin.
In their room, Donald smiled to see his favorite flannel pants laid out on the bed, along with a t-shirt. Timothy really did spoil him, some days. At the thought of Tim - alone on the couch below - spurned Donald on.
While he was grateful they were comfortable enough with one another they could spend days apart and be none the worse for wear, Donald wasn't about to pass up the chance to reconnect after days apart. Especially when he knew another case could start at any time and they would be like ships in the night all over again.
Clean and wrapped in his robe, Donald headed back down, unsurprised in the least to find that Timothy hadn't moved. Different music was playing, but everything else remained exactly the same.
"Shove over," Donald said, trying to wiggle between Tim and the couch arm.
Timothy cut him an annoyed, if amused look, and complied grudgingly. A few moments later Tim was resting with his back against Donald's chest, sighing happily. He had carefully marked his place in the book, but for the time being, it was closed.
"Case done?"
Drawing his fingers up and down Tim's arm, pleased by the goose bumps that followed, Donald nodded. "I'll get the pictures developed tomorrow and deliver them."
"That's good," Timothy replied, snuggling up against Donald happily.
Remembering that Tim's own work had been hectic, and that he had no idea what was going on, Donald asked, "You?"
"I think the worst of it is past." Timothy shrugged, and captured Donald's roaming hand in his own. "And I'll sleep better tonight, with you home so early."
Wincing, Donald said, "Sorry."
"It's okay. Well, I don't like not knowing if you're safe, but..." Tim sighed, patting Donald's arm gently. "I'm used to it."
Donald hated that Tim had to be used to it, but was more grateful than he could say for his partner's continued understanding. It hadn't been quite so easy in the early days, and he knew Timothy still worried, but they had reached an acceptance - if not a peace - over it that Donald appreciated.
Realization striking, Donald grinned. "Tomorrow's Sunday."
"Why, what do you know? It is!" Tim replied, exaggerating.
Swatting at Timothy's arm, Donald growled. "What do you say we go to a movie after you get home from Mass?"
Tim turned suddenly, nearly catching Donald in the ribs with his elbow in his haste. He stared at Donald for several seconds, as though trying to determine if he was kidding. Finally he said, "You're serious."
"Sure." Donald couldn't help but think it really had been too long since they had just gone out for a lazy afternoon, if this was Tim's reaction. "What do you say?"
"Yes!" Grabbing Donald's cheeks in his hands, Timothy grinned and kissed him quickly. "We could take care of some shopping, too."
Eyes widening in horror, Donald asked, "We need to get Megan a gift, don't we?"
Tim looked confused by Donald's expression, and he nodded slowly. "Yes. Though I think you're probably covered, dear." Not willing to count on that just yet, Donald gave Timothy a pained look. "We'll figure something out. She's moving into the dorm, so there's a million things she'll need."
A knot in his stomach loosening, Donald smiled and rested his forehead against Tim's. "I don't think I could cope without you."
"Well, it's a good thing you don't have to then, huh?" Smiling at Donald fondly, Timothy shook his head. "If you were going to run me off, it would've been years ago. You're stuck."
Quirking an eyebrow, Donald slid his hands under Tim's shirt. "I like the sound of that.
Eyes darkening, Timothy gave Donald a salacious smile of his own. In a husky voice he said, "Thought you might."
"What do you say we give it a go?" Donald asked, scraping his fingernails lightly down Tim's back. "Wanna get stuck?"
He grinned when Timothy arched and the book fell onto the floor, forgotten. Sometimes, Donald couldn't help but think as he tugged Tim's shirt over his head, there were benefits to being out of pocket for days on end.
~<>~<>~
The weekend, once work had been finished, had gone better than Donald had hoped. They had slept in as late as church would allow Timothy to and took their time with breakfast, and just enjoyed reconnecting a bit. Well, in addition to their reconnection of a different sort on Saturday night, Donald thought with a grin.
No one else had been in the movie theater in the middle of a Sunday afternoon, and with as bad as the movie was, Donald understood why. He had amused himself by trying to convince Timothy to make out, laughing at each more and more strangled rebuff. By the time they had left, Tim had been bright red and glaring.
Walking out of the theater, Donald had slipped his hand into Tim's and squeezed it gently. It had earned him a softer look from his partner, and they went about shopping for Megan's gift with a renewed peace between them.
Timothy had steered him toward Bed, Bath & Beyond and Donald had groaned. He was so far out of his element he couldn't even begin to say. Luckily, Timothy had taken pity and they had found several things with a minimum of fuss. Donald had lived in the barracks, with pretty much everything provided for him. He was just glad Tim had a clue.
The rest of the day had been spent on chores - laundry and dishes and the ever-hated vacuuming. The highlight had been the water fight Donald had inadvertently started when he tried to help with the dishes. Cleaning up had taken longer than the fight, but it was worth it for the way Timothy let go, and laughed and laughed as they wrestled for control of the in-sink, extendable water nozzle.
So, it was in a much better mood that Donald went to work on Monday than he had left it on Saturday. He was well-rested and fed, and generally happy with his world. They had even discussed the possibility of a trip to Harrisburg over the coming weekend, if Christine agreed.
The week passed in a similar fashion, although Wednesday wasn't half over when his office door opened without so much as a knock. Donald was reaching for his weapon - you could never be too careful - when Timothy walked in and shut the door behind him.
Immediately worried - Tim looked nervous - Donald stood, asking, "What's wrong?"
Without a word, Tim held out a legal-sized envelope.
"Is that..." His voice faded, and he didn't move. "It's too soon."
Timothy nodded, still holding the letter. "I had them send it to the office, since I knew I'd be there to sign for it. And it is a day or so early. I had expected it by the end of the week."
Swallowing roughly, looking between Tim and the letter that could change so much, Donald asked, "Did you?"
"No," Tim replied, shaking his head. "I did call Christine. Their letter arrived today as well, but I asked her not to tell me." Moving closer, Timothy touched Donald's arm softly. "I wanted to find out with you."
Donald smiled faintly. "Thanks."
"Why don't you sit down before you fall?" Timothy guided him back to his chair, leaning against Donald's desk just as he had when they had discussed the testing. "Okay?"
Taking a deep breath, trying to clear his head, Donald nodded. "I'm good." Staring at Tim's hands - and what they held - Donald said, "I guess this is it."
Timothy smiled, and ran his hand through Donald's hair. "It'll be okay."
"Yeah," Donald replied, taking a shaky breath. Do or die time.
Laughing, Tim patted Donald's cheek. "Megan's accepted you regardless. She knows it might not be true." Donald looked at Timothy, surprised by the frank words. He wouldn't have guessed it from talking to her. "She really does, I promise. And she was still asking me yesterday about coming to visit us after she gets home from her senior trip." Tim smiled mysteriously, adding, "Around time for Father's Day, I think."
Ignoring the latter, it seemed too much like jinxing it, Donald focused on the former. "I'm not sure it's just me she's attached to," Donald said, bolstered by Tim's words.
Although he smiled, Tim's only reply was to shake the letter. "Now or never."
Wishing he could share his husband's certainty, Donald took the letter with a trembling hand. He grabbed a letter opener off his desk and slit the top open neatly, pulling out a single sheet of paper.
There was a short paragraph at the top, followed by several scientific notations. Below it all was the single line that truly mattered.
Paternal DNA Match: Positive
Donald felt lightheaded, and looked up to stare at Timothy.
"Well?"
"It's..." Donald stopped, coughing to clear his throat and blinking quickly. "It's positive."
Laughing, Tim leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Donald's shoulders. "I knew it." Donald didn't - couldn't - return the hug, but leaned thankfully against his partner. When Timothy pulled back, his eyes were suspiciously bright.
Reality sinking through the shock, Donald smiled. Dropping the letter on the desk, he cupped Tim's face in his hands and kissed him soundly. When he pulled back, gasping for air, Donald laughed.
"Congratulations, Dad."
Blinking slowly, Donald nodded. "Oh my God."
Timothy stood, straightening his jacket as he did so. "You should call Christine." Donald nodded vaguely, his mind already debating how to break the news to Megan. "And we have to go out and celebrate."
Hearing Tim's words as though on a time delay, Donald finally caught up to what he said. "Dinner and dancing?"
"It's a date," Timothy proclaimed, kissing Donald on the cheek before turning to leave. "Pick me up at six?"
Donald smiled, loving his husband more in that moment than he would have thought possible. Most men would have turned tail and run, but not his Timmy.
"With bells on."
Rolling his eyes, Timothy grinned and waved, before disappearing into the hall. Donald slouched in his chair, eyes tracking back to the letter. He picked it up once more, running his fingers over the bolded words.
Positive
He picked up the phone with shaking hands, taking two tries to dial Christine's number. Donald didn't question when he had learned it; so much had changed over such little time.
"Christine Cooper."
"Hey, it's me." Donald took a deep breath, before exhaling slowly. "Tim said you got your letter. Open it yet?"
There was a beat of silence, followed by, "Yeah. No surprises."
Donald winced, feeling a flash of guilt for doubting what Christine never had. "I... Wow."
"Megan will be thrilled," Christine said, laughing softly. "I think she's trying to convince herself she'll be okay if not, but..." She sighed. "I don't think she ever doubted. Especially after she met you."
Staring at the letter, Donald admitted, "I wondered, but... I had a feeling." When she didn't say anything, Donald asked, "We were thinking, what if we came for a visit?"
Christine seemed to consider this for a moment. "If you wanted to drive down, prom's this weekend."
"Prom?" Donald blinked, confused. "Graduation is the next week."
"I know. The gym was flooded and they delayed it until now. They threatened to cancel it." Christine laughed, before sighing. "You should've heard Megan. The humanity of it all!"
"Oh." Donald couldn't help but remember his own senior prom, and how against all odds, it had led him - them - here. He couldn't decide if it seemed fitting to be there, or if it was the last place he should be.
"How about you help me see her off? It'd be..." Maybe she was thinking along the same lines, because Christine sighed softly. "It'd be full circle, I suppose."
Swallowing audibly, Donald nodded. "I'd like that."
"And I'd like the chance to actually meet Timothy in person."
Smiling, Donald chuckled. "He wants to meet you, too."
There was a fluttering of papers on the other end of the line, followed by clicking keys. "A group of them are going together, and the limo is due at our house at six. Why don't you get here around five, and you can surprise her when she comes downstairs?"
It sounded so different than his own sordid plans for prom night had been. Part of Donald was still ashamed with how he had behaved back then, he had treated Christine horribly. A newer voice reminded him that something good had come of it, even if he had been kept from the game far too long.
"I'd like that. We'll call when we're almost there."
"See you then."
Christine hung up and Donald stared at the phone for a few moments. Looking at the letter once more, it really began to sink in. Donald laid his head on the desk, taking several deep breaths.
He had a daughter.
Holy Mary, Mother of God.
~<>~<>~
Work stayed steady throughout the remainder of the week, passing the time but not running Donald ragged. He was thankful for that fact; it kept him grounded during the day, and Timothy stopped him from working himself up too badly at night when it was quiet.
Talking to Megan was both wonderful and torture, and he was beginning to regret waiting to tell her. However, he held firm, listening as she filled him in on all the details of her impending prom night. He wanted to warn her away from boys like him, but she beat him to it.
She sounded remarkably mature when she admitted she knew enough about what had happened between Donald and Christine not to make the same mistake. While she cared for the guy she was going with, neither he nor his hormones were getting in between her and campus in the fall.
To say Donald had been relieved would have been an understatement.
By the time Saturday morning rolled around, Donald was both anxious and impatient. Timothy had laughed at him over breakfast, and steadfastly refused him more than one cup of coffee. Donald's glare had done little to change Tim's mind.
The trip was only five hours, but Donald was ready to go by eleven. Standing at the foot of the stairs, he called out, "Are you ready yet?"
His only response was a balled up pair of socks flying past his head. "I guess not."
Timothy ducked his head around the corner, and gave Donald an exasperated grin. "We have plenty of time."
"I don't want to get caught in traffic," Donald said, watching as Timothy disappeared once more. He crossed his arms over his chest. "And I want to have time to eat."
Walking down the stairs, Timothy just shook his head. "We will. And we'll have time to check in at the hotel." As he reached Donald's side, he patted his cheek affectionately. "I promise. Just relax."
"I can't relax," Donald muttered, pouting at his husband.
Timothy's eyes were bright with his good humor. "Really? I hadn't noticed."
Donald gestured toward his watch. 11:05. "Can we go, please?"
"Yes, yes!" Timothy laughed, pushing Donald toward the door. Donald paused just long enough to pick up their bags. "We can go!"
The trip was uneventful; no traffic problems, and Timothy refrained from being too smug when they made it to their hotel in plenty of time. Donald was sure it hurt him, but Tim managed to hold back from a single 'I told you so'. Tim called and spoke with Christine while Donald checked them into their room.
There was a small, mom-and-pop looking pizzeria across the street and Donald wondered how frazzled he must look, when Timothy suggested it for dinner. He gave his husband a second glance, but wasn't willing to pass up such a gift.
Once seated, their order placed, Donald tried to relax. The longer they were in the car, the tighter his back had become. He was impatient to see Megan, and more relieved than he could say to have Timothy there with him. Donald squeezed Tim's hand under the table, smiling softly.
"It'll be fine."
Donald nodded, believing it when Tim said it, and deep down, he thought it would, too. It was just so different, so overwhelming, it was easy to focus on all the things that could go wrong. "I know."
Their pizza arrived a little later - half Hawaiian with pepperoni, as was Donald's preference, and half vegetarian, as Timothy preferred on occasion. Judging by Megan's order when she had visited, it was something Donald was going to have to get used to.
Timothy gestured toward the food, taking a slice for himself. "Now I know you're not yourself." Pressing a hand to Donald's forehead, Tim pretended to check for fever. "Donald Strachey never passes up pizza."
Swatting Tim's hand away, Donald laughed. "Stop it."
He kept an eye on the time as they ate. Christine was coming to pick them up at 4:45, so they wouldn't risk Megan seeing or hearing Donald's Toyota. He hadn't asked what story she had concocted to leave.
They finished just in time, Donald taking his change from the waiter when Timothy whispered, "I think that's her."
Donald turned in his seat, easily recognizing the dark-haired woman in a late model Honda. "That's her."
Steeling himself, Donald stood and took Timothy's hand. Ignoring the glance that earned them from the waiter, Donald led his husband outside and to the car. After getting in - Timothy in the front, Donald in the back - Donald introduced them. "Christine, this is my husband, Tim. Tim, this is Christine, Megan's mom."
Timothy smiled and nodded, genuinely pleased. "Nice to finally meet you in person."
"You, too," Christine said, smiling warmly. She glanced in the rearview mirror at Donald briefly before pulling out of the parking spot. "Good trip?"
Nodding, Donald sat back in the seat and willed his dinner to stay down. "No problems. Everything on schedule?"
Eyes on the road, Christine nodded. "Everything's okay so far." She gestured over her shoulder toward the backseat. "I told Megan I had to run and pick up a new memory card for the camera." Grinning, she added, "I'm counting on the fact she won't notice it's not a new card, it's just in a bag."
Timothy laughed. "Devious. I like that."
Smirking, Christine shrugged. "What she doesn't know..." With another glance at Donald, she asked, "We're still waiting?"
"I don't want to mess up her finals, and I want to be here for it." Donald paused, considering that Christine might not want to wait any longer. "You?"
She glanced away, and was quiet for a few seconds before agreeing quietly. "She's done with school, just so you're aware. This last week is just prep for graduation. But I'm fine with it, either way. It's waited this long."
Donald opened his mouth to comment, but then bit his tongue. It wasn't the time for him and Christine to debate, yet again, the fact he had to wait eighteen years to learn about the situation he had helped create.
It didn't help matters that he couldn't quite get a handle on her reactions. Sometimes, she seemed pleased to have him back in the picture; others she was distant and cool. Given their past, and the years in between, maybe she wasn't sure what to think or how to feel. Donald certainly wasn't at times.
"Here we are," Christine said, breaking Donald away from his thoughts and pulling into the garage. Turning in her seat and unbuckling, she added, "Stay here until I make sure the coast is clear, okay?"
They both nodded, and only once she was gone did Timothy speak. "Donald? Are you okay?"
He took a deep breath, holding it before exhaling nosily. "Yeah. I'm good."
"If you're sure..." Tim replied, giving him a glance that clearly showed he wasn't certain if he believed Donald.
Spotting Christine waving them in, Donald said, "I'm sure," as he climbed out of the car.
She held the door open for them, and motioned them toward the living room. "She's in her room, but will be down in a little while. Just sit tight, okay?"
"We can do that," Timothy replied, saving Donald from having to do it. He grasped Donald's elbow, and pulled him toward the couch. When they were seated, Tim leaned over and whispered, "Breathe, Donald."
Glancing at Tim, Donald twiddled his thumbs until his partner covered his hands. Donald sighed, full of too much nervous energy to contain, but he tried. "Sorry."
Timothy smiled, grasping Donald's hand. "It's okay."
He flashed Tim a grateful smile. "I love you."
Still smiling, Timothy nodded. "Never doubted it."
Christine walked down the stairs, breaking the moment. "Ready?"
They both stood, and nodded. "As I'll ever be," Donald muttered. He was happily surprised when Christine gave him a warm smile. "Is she ready?"
From where they were standing, neither Donald nor Timothy could see the top of the stairs, but judging by the way Christine looked up and smiled, Megan was indeed ready.
"The car won't be here for half an hour, Mom," Megan whined, her heels muffled by the carpet. "Why do I have to come down..."
Reaching the bottom, dressed to the nines in a floor-length navy gown, she fell silent and stared. It lasted for a split second - long enough for Donald to worry - when she screeched, "Donald!" and ran forward.
Megan threw her arms around his neck, squeezing tight. Donald laughed, wrapping his own arms around her small waist before gasping, "Need to breathe."
Pulling back, but still touching, Megan blinked quickly and punched him on the shoulder. "You didn't tell me you were coming!"
Grinning, Donald held his hands up innocently. "Surprise?"
"Oh yeah!" She turned toward Timothy, who was smiling happily at the both of them. Megan hesitated for a moment before throwing her arms around him as well. When she stepped away, Megan said, "I'm so glad you came!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Donald noticed Christine looked a little torn, but she was smiling all the same. Megan turned to her mother and said, "You knew."
Christine shrugged defiantly. "Guilty."
Smiling, too happy for anything to dim her spirits, Megan grabbed Donald's hand and pulled him to the kitchen table. She looked at her mom, and gestured her over with a tilt of her head. When Tim started to move back to the couch - Donald knew he didn't want to intrude, proper to the last - Megan snagged his arm. "Oh, no you don't."
Tim quirked an eyebrow, giving her an amused look before smirking at Donald. It was indeed possible Megan and Donald were a little bit alike, and that Timothy had realized it sooner than Donald himself had.
Megan had barely sat down when she asked, "Have you heard anything? You should've heard by now, based on what I read."
"Um..." Donald cringed. He was afraid she would read up on it on her own. Hell, Megan's fondness for internet research had helped bring them together in the first place. She looked at him with wide, blue eyes and Donald cracked completely. "Yeah, we've heard."
Both Christine and Timothy looked at him in shock. After all, it had been Donald who had pushed so hard to wait until graduation. Luckily for him, Megan was too busy staring at Donald to notice their reaction. He looked at Christine, who had recovered enough to nod, tapping a finger on the tabletop nervously.
"Well?" Megan asked, her voice pitching high. "Are you going to tell me?"
Donald smiled, unable to help himself. He wasn't able to speak before Megan flew around the table and latched her arms around his neck once more. "I knew it!"
Over her shoulder, Donald met Timothy's gaze, matching his soft smile. Patting her back, Donald nodded. "I guess you did."
Leaning back, she looked at him suspiciously. "How long have you known?"
He was saved by his knight in shining armor, when Timothy intervened. "We - all of us - wanted to tell you in person." It wasn't a lie, but dodged the fact they had all known for almost a week.
They were saved from further questioning when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" Megan cried, and was gone.
Donald risked a glance at Christine and smiled sheepishly. "I..."
"It's just as well." She smiled, standing and moving to follow Megan. "I wasn't sure how I was going to hold out another week anyway."
Laughing, Donald stood, waiting until Timothy followed. "You've held out since Monday. I cracked in five minutes."
"And they say women are the weaker sex," she replied with a smirk.
Holding his hands out in front of him, Donald shook his head. "Not me, I never said that." And considering Christine had raised Megan essentially alone, even if it was by her own choice, Donald certainly couldn't believe them weaker now.
"Smart man."
"Mom!" Megan yelled from the front room. "Donald! Come in here!"
Christine and Donald both winced; however, Timothy laughed heartily. "I do believe you've both been summoned," he said with an evil glee.
"You too, Tim!"
It was Timothy's turn to wince, and Donald laughed, patting him on the cheek. Christine disappeared into the other room with an amused glance at the two of them. Quietly, Donald said, "I think we've both got a lot to learn about this dad thing. Don't you agree?"
Smiling, his eyes warm, Timothy nodded. "I would say that's a distinct understatement. Might want to get out there before she summons us again, though." He smirked, "She has your indoor voice - the neighbors might complain."
Unable to argue that, Donald grinned. "Good point."
The next few minutes were a hustle and bustle meet and greet. They finally met the mysterious Jessi, as well as Thomas - Megan's date. Megan had held onto Donald's hand for most of it, showing him off to her friends as though she were the proud parent, not the other way around.
Donald couldn't help feeling that it was a little overwhelming. Instinctively, his eyes sought out Tim, who smiled encouragingly.
At one point, when Megan was distracted touching up Jessi's hair, Donald cornered Thomas with a glare. He had merely grinned maniacally when Thomas swallowed nervously.
When Megan turned back around, and saw how pale her date was, she narrowed her eyes at Donald. "What did you say?"
Donald held up his hands in surrender and answered honestly. "I didn't say a word."
She looked at Donald for several seconds, and then over at Timothy. "What did he say?"
Laughing, Timothy asked, "Why am I getting dragged into the middle of this?"
"Because you're supposed to be on my side!" she declared, any semblance of a straight face failing miserably.
Donald snickered, and wrapped an arm around Timothy's waist. "Sorry, kid. I got dibs."
Megan pouted, but it didn't last because a moment later a car horn honked outside. Christine glanced through the blinds and smiled. "Ride's here!"
Both girls squealed happily, although Thomas still looked rather queasy. Donald must have looked a little too proud, because Tim elbowed him in the ribs. "Behave!"
"Hold up!" Christine stepped in front of the three teenagers, armed with a camera. "Pictures, now!"
Donald felt a little wistful. There had been no pictures for him and Christine that night. There hadn't been a lot of the innocent things. Looking at Megan, who was busy mugging it up for the camera, Donald gave up wishing things had been different. There wasn't anything he could do about that. All he could do was enjoy the surprise he had been handed.
"You okay?" Timothy whispered in his ear, nudging Donald's shoulder with his own.
Donald thought for a moment before nodding. Giving Timothy a thankful smile, he squeezed his husband's hand. If any of the kids gave them a second glance, Donald didn't bother to look.
Turning his attention back to his daughter, Donald sighed. "I think I'm just about perfect."
Timothy didn't get to reply before Megan was dragging Donald in front of the camera as well. "Smile!" she demanded, high on life in a way only a teenager could manage.
"Yes, ma'am."
Christine shared an amused glance with Timothy, as she snapped several shots. Stepping forward, Timothy held out his hand. "May I?"
Donald held his breath as Christine stared at Tim. Eventually, she nodded and handed him the camera and smiled. "Please."
Megan standing between them, Donald didn't doubt they looked the perfect picture of the normal family they never could have been, no matter what happened. And yet, what made it perfect was that he was okay with that. Megan was okay with that. And he hoped Christine was growing more comfortable with it as well.
"Smile!" Timothy instructed, and Donald couldn't have disobeyed if he wanted to. The flash fired, and Tim winked at him. "Perfect."
Timothy was about to put the camera down when Megan said, "No, now you." She looked at her mother. "One more."
Christine nodded, taking the camera from a clearly surprised Timothy. "You heard the lady," she said, nudging him onward. "Her highness requests a picture."
It wasn't what Donald had planned, or expected out of his life. But looking at Megan and then Timothy, Donald realized that sometimes what you planned wasn't what mattered in the end. Life was unexpected - as if the Army hadn't taught him that - but occasionally it was unexpected in the best possible way.
Timothy glanced back at him, smiled warmly, nodding. He was clearly pleased that Megan had wanted to include him. Maybe their family wasn't 'normal' but it was theirs and it was perfect. Normal was overrated, anyway.
Donald turned toward the camera just in time for the picture to be taken, smiling so hard his face hurt.
Perfect, Timothy had said.
Damn straight.
End