[Fic] It's The Great Pumpkin, Donald Strachey
Title: It's The Great Pumpkin, Donald Strachey.
Author: lil_1337
Pairing/Characters: Timmy Callahan/Donald Strachey, Erica McCaslin Kotlowicz-Osborne
Rating: G
Word count: 1938
Warnings/Kinks: Sap, Waff, Kiddie cuteness.
Summary: Written for the Fall 'thon at tim_don_a_thon. Set within the book 'verse.
Disclaimer: I do not own them, not one little bit.
A/N: The Pick a Pumpkin Pumpkin Patch is a real place though I can't claim first hand knowledge of it. However, I borrowed liberally from my own personal experiences at the farm/orchard my family visits every year. If you would like more information on the place that Timmy, Donald and Erica visited you can find their website here: http://www.pickapumpkin.com/about.html
It was Tuesday, a cold, wet, miserable sort of day that reminds you how you have the whole damn week yet to go and are going to hate every stinking minute of it. Suddenly those sweltering hot days where the temperature and humidity were running neck and neck were looking pretty good. If I was feeling philosophical I could have waxed poetic about how it was the nature of man to want what he doesn't have, but my higher brain functions were in the process of leaving town for the winter so I just sulked petulantly instead, wishing I had been born rich instead of handsome.
“Clear your calendar for Saturday, we have plans.” Timmy spooned the last bit of steel cut oatmeal into his mouth and washed it down with hot black coffee. Confident I had heard and would comply which was true, but didn't make him less of a bastard for assuming.
“We do?” It's not unusual for Timmy to make plans for us, but usually he discusses them with me. I was no doubt going to end up doing what ever he had scheduled, but his high handedness meant I was going to make him work for it.
“Yes.” Timmy pushed the now empty bowl towards the middle of the table. “We're taking Erica to the Pick a Pumpkin Pumpkin Patch. Dale will drop her off early Saturday morning and pick her up when we get back. She has to be in Albany all day so it should work out fine.”
Erica, Timmy's daughter and my favorite little person, was five and currently two months into kindergarten at the Montessori school that Timmy and her mommies had had picked for her. I have it on good authority that Erica knew her colors, could count to 100 and was in the process of mastering both upper and lower case Ks. All of that was not surprising given the gene pool she had swum out of. This is a kid who had both nature and nurture working to her advantage.
“Was this your idea or hers?” It wouldn't surprise me if Dale had worked it so that she and Janet could push the pumpkin hunting duties over onto us. On the other hand it was just as likely that this was an old Callahan family tradition that Timmy had decided Erica was now old enough to enjoy.
“We came to a mutual agreement on the subject.” Timmy finished off his coffee then stood with his mug and bowl in his hands. “We should leave here no later than nine, that way we can miss the morning traffic.”
I made a face at his back as he carried his dishes into the kitchen then smiled innocently when he turned to level a look my way. Somehow he always knows. Maybe being a father has tuned on that eyes in the back of his head thing that most parents seem to have. With a mental shrug I turned my attention back to the sports page and put the idea of tromping around in the cold to pick out the perfect pumpkin out of my mind.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Saturday morning dawned crisp and clear with blue skies and not a hint of the storm clouds that had kept Albany in thrall for the last few days. You couldn't have had a better day if it had been special ordered. Knowing Timmy he had done just that, giving the almighty a look that said 'don't even think about ruining this day' when he did. Even the people part of the equation fell into line. I managed to pull myself out of bed, shaved and showered before Dale arrived, only ten minutes late, to drop off Erica. Timmy and I were caffeinated, fed, and along with Erica packed into the car when the minute hand on my watch clicked over to exactly nine.
According to the directions Timmy had downloaded from the pumpkin patch's website the trip should take forty five minutes to an hour though I was prepared for longer. Fortunately, traffic was light because, unlike us, the rest of Albany and most of the state of New York had decided to sleep in. I was envious of them for the first few minutes, but watching Timmy and Erica discuss school made me rethink that. After all, they missed out on the conversation about the little boy who chewed on the ends of the colored pencils and the girl at Erica's table that brought jelly sandwiches with the crusts cut off every day for lunch. More than that the happy look on Timmy's face made up for having to abandon my warm bed.
It's funny how even after all the years we've been together there is still something about seeing him smile that makes everything right in my world.
We got out of the car and Timmy zipped up Erica's very pink jacket. The one with the fur lined hood and matching gloves. With her hand firmly held in his we headed off towards the main area to decide what exciting things we wanted to do first. I was in favor of getting our pumpkin before the rush, but Timmy nixed that since he didn't want to carry it around with us. There was some logic in that though I was tried to avoid thinking about the implication that we were going to be at the pumpkin patch long enough for it to make a difference.
Erica wanted to see storybook land and Timmy was curious about the four story tree house so we consulted the map and discovered that one was on the way to the other. There was also a stand selling cider donuts which appealed to my stomach. With donuts and cider in hand we wandered down the pathway towards storybook land. There were kids and parents everywhere and I took a bit of reflected pride in the fact that Erica was one of the best behaved. She might not be mine, but I do have regular sex with her father so should count for some kind of indirect influence.
Storybook land turned out to be exactly what the name implied. It was a collection of scenes from fairy tales with painted backgrounds. The characters were crafted out of clothes stuffed with hay, their heads made from pumpkins, which gave the whole thing a comic, but festive look. Erica took her time studying each one before declaring that the three little pigs were her favorite. She insisted that Timmy take a picture with his phone and promise to send it to her mommies, which he did. Kids these days and their modern technology.
The tree house was amusing though not nearly interesting enough to keep the attention of a five year old girl or a middle aged detective. Timmy took a quick look around and then we moved on. From there we made the rounds of Jack and Jill hill where Erica worked a miracle and managed to talk Timmy into rolling down the hill with her, the teeter totter, the duck race, the petting zoo and my personal favorite, the pumpkin launcher. By this time it was coming up on noon and I veto'd a trip to the pumpkin theater in favor of a visit to the snack bar.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“That hit the spot.” I washed down the last of my bacon cheese burger with a slug of apple cider then snitched one of Erica's french fries. She gave me a look that was the mirror image of Timmy's disgusted face. I couldn't help but grin back at her in response. “Shall we go look for pumpkins now?”
“Yes, Mommy Dale said to get two, one for your house and one for our house.”
“Really?” Timmy wiped a bit of ketchup off the corner of her mouth, ignoring how she squirmed a bit in protest.
“Yes. She it was importin to have a Jack latern at both of my homes.” She gathered up her plate and napkins and threw them in the trash bin even though she had to stand on her tiptoes to do it.
“Well, if it's important.” There was no doubt that she had Timmy wrapped around her little finger by the way that his voice softened. “I suppose we can get two. Donald will have to help us carry them though. He's the muscle in the family.”
She turned her serious blue eyes on me and I would have agreed to rob a bank to keep her in pumpkins if I had needed to. “Donald, will you help us carry pumpkins, please?”
I pretended to think about it because it wouldn't do to have her know just how much sway she had over me. “Of course, since you asked so nicely.” I gave her a grin and she took my hand, her other already being held by Timmy, and pulled us towards where the line was forming for the next cart to take us out to the pumpkin fields.
The cart was made completely of wood with high sides and a canvas tarp covering the top. On the inside were bales of hay that substituted for benches. It was pulled by a tractor instead of the more traditional horses, but none of us really minded. We took seats in the back and watched as the rest of the bales filled up with families of varying age and size. A little boy and his parents settled themselves near us and he and Erica struck up a conversation as kids will do.
As decisive about things as Erica can be picking pumpkins was apparently her Achilles heel. After an hour of wandering up and down rows of what appeared to me to be perfectly good pumpkins she had finally narrowed it down to three. Since two were the traditional orange and one was a white ghost pumpkin Timmy made the executive decision that the house on Crow Street would need two, one of each kind. It worked for me and Erica seemed happy with the plan so I hoisted them up, showing off my muscles in the process, and carried them to where we would meet the cart for the trip back to the farm.
On the way back she leaned against Timmy who spent the whole ride making displeased noises over the amount of dirt and plant matter now clinging to his practically brand new sneakers. Timmy's idea of casual at home is lounging in his underwear and a t shirt, but out in public he rarely dressed down to my normal level. I lifted up a little to kiss the bald spot on the top his head and was rewarded with an exasperated smile. No doubt the sneakers would get a through cleaning when we got home, but for the moment he left off fussing with them to explain to Erica all the nutritional benefits of eating pumpkin.
Back at the farm we paid for our pumpkins, apples, some decorative corn and, in my opinion, a few too many pounds of various fresh vegetables that would no doubt find their way into what would otherwise be perfectly good food. With our treasures stowed safely in the trunk we got in and settled ourselves for the drive back to Albany. We were not even off the dirt track before Erica fell asleep, her head resting against the side of the child seat that Dale had loaned us for the day. She beat her daddy to dreamland by ten minutes. I know because I timed it.
Author: lil_1337
Pairing/Characters: Timmy Callahan/Donald Strachey, Erica McCaslin Kotlowicz-Osborne
Rating: G
Word count: 1938
Warnings/Kinks: Sap, Waff, Kiddie cuteness.
Summary: Written for the Fall 'thon at tim_don_a_thon. Set within the book 'verse.
Disclaimer: I do not own them, not one little bit.
A/N: The Pick a Pumpkin Pumpkin Patch is a real place though I can't claim first hand knowledge of it. However, I borrowed liberally from my own personal experiences at the farm/orchard my family visits every year. If you would like more information on the place that Timmy, Donald and Erica visited you can find their website here: http://www.pickapumpkin.com/about.html
It was Tuesday, a cold, wet, miserable sort of day that reminds you how you have the whole damn week yet to go and are going to hate every stinking minute of it. Suddenly those sweltering hot days where the temperature and humidity were running neck and neck were looking pretty good. If I was feeling philosophical I could have waxed poetic about how it was the nature of man to want what he doesn't have, but my higher brain functions were in the process of leaving town for the winter so I just sulked petulantly instead, wishing I had been born rich instead of handsome.
“Clear your calendar for Saturday, we have plans.” Timmy spooned the last bit of steel cut oatmeal into his mouth and washed it down with hot black coffee. Confident I had heard and would comply which was true, but didn't make him less of a bastard for assuming.
“We do?” It's not unusual for Timmy to make plans for us, but usually he discusses them with me. I was no doubt going to end up doing what ever he had scheduled, but his high handedness meant I was going to make him work for it.
“Yes.” Timmy pushed the now empty bowl towards the middle of the table. “We're taking Erica to the Pick a Pumpkin Pumpkin Patch. Dale will drop her off early Saturday morning and pick her up when we get back. She has to be in Albany all day so it should work out fine.”
Erica, Timmy's daughter and my favorite little person, was five and currently two months into kindergarten at the Montessori school that Timmy and her mommies had had picked for her. I have it on good authority that Erica knew her colors, could count to 100 and was in the process of mastering both upper and lower case Ks. All of that was not surprising given the gene pool she had swum out of. This is a kid who had both nature and nurture working to her advantage.
“Was this your idea or hers?” It wouldn't surprise me if Dale had worked it so that she and Janet could push the pumpkin hunting duties over onto us. On the other hand it was just as likely that this was an old Callahan family tradition that Timmy had decided Erica was now old enough to enjoy.
“We came to a mutual agreement on the subject.” Timmy finished off his coffee then stood with his mug and bowl in his hands. “We should leave here no later than nine, that way we can miss the morning traffic.”
I made a face at his back as he carried his dishes into the kitchen then smiled innocently when he turned to level a look my way. Somehow he always knows. Maybe being a father has tuned on that eyes in the back of his head thing that most parents seem to have. With a mental shrug I turned my attention back to the sports page and put the idea of tromping around in the cold to pick out the perfect pumpkin out of my mind.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Saturday morning dawned crisp and clear with blue skies and not a hint of the storm clouds that had kept Albany in thrall for the last few days. You couldn't have had a better day if it had been special ordered. Knowing Timmy he had done just that, giving the almighty a look that said 'don't even think about ruining this day' when he did. Even the people part of the equation fell into line. I managed to pull myself out of bed, shaved and showered before Dale arrived, only ten minutes late, to drop off Erica. Timmy and I were caffeinated, fed, and along with Erica packed into the car when the minute hand on my watch clicked over to exactly nine.
According to the directions Timmy had downloaded from the pumpkin patch's website the trip should take forty five minutes to an hour though I was prepared for longer. Fortunately, traffic was light because, unlike us, the rest of Albany and most of the state of New York had decided to sleep in. I was envious of them for the first few minutes, but watching Timmy and Erica discuss school made me rethink that. After all, they missed out on the conversation about the little boy who chewed on the ends of the colored pencils and the girl at Erica's table that brought jelly sandwiches with the crusts cut off every day for lunch. More than that the happy look on Timmy's face made up for having to abandon my warm bed.
It's funny how even after all the years we've been together there is still something about seeing him smile that makes everything right in my world.
We got out of the car and Timmy zipped up Erica's very pink jacket. The one with the fur lined hood and matching gloves. With her hand firmly held in his we headed off towards the main area to decide what exciting things we wanted to do first. I was in favor of getting our pumpkin before the rush, but Timmy nixed that since he didn't want to carry it around with us. There was some logic in that though I was tried to avoid thinking about the implication that we were going to be at the pumpkin patch long enough for it to make a difference.
Erica wanted to see storybook land and Timmy was curious about the four story tree house so we consulted the map and discovered that one was on the way to the other. There was also a stand selling cider donuts which appealed to my stomach. With donuts and cider in hand we wandered down the pathway towards storybook land. There were kids and parents everywhere and I took a bit of reflected pride in the fact that Erica was one of the best behaved. She might not be mine, but I do have regular sex with her father so should count for some kind of indirect influence.
Storybook land turned out to be exactly what the name implied. It was a collection of scenes from fairy tales with painted backgrounds. The characters were crafted out of clothes stuffed with hay, their heads made from pumpkins, which gave the whole thing a comic, but festive look. Erica took her time studying each one before declaring that the three little pigs were her favorite. She insisted that Timmy take a picture with his phone and promise to send it to her mommies, which he did. Kids these days and their modern technology.
The tree house was amusing though not nearly interesting enough to keep the attention of a five year old girl or a middle aged detective. Timmy took a quick look around and then we moved on. From there we made the rounds of Jack and Jill hill where Erica worked a miracle and managed to talk Timmy into rolling down the hill with her, the teeter totter, the duck race, the petting zoo and my personal favorite, the pumpkin launcher. By this time it was coming up on noon and I veto'd a trip to the pumpkin theater in favor of a visit to the snack bar.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“That hit the spot.” I washed down the last of my bacon cheese burger with a slug of apple cider then snitched one of Erica's french fries. She gave me a look that was the mirror image of Timmy's disgusted face. I couldn't help but grin back at her in response. “Shall we go look for pumpkins now?”
“Yes, Mommy Dale said to get two, one for your house and one for our house.”
“Really?” Timmy wiped a bit of ketchup off the corner of her mouth, ignoring how she squirmed a bit in protest.
“Yes. She it was importin to have a Jack latern at both of my homes.” She gathered up her plate and napkins and threw them in the trash bin even though she had to stand on her tiptoes to do it.
“Well, if it's important.” There was no doubt that she had Timmy wrapped around her little finger by the way that his voice softened. “I suppose we can get two. Donald will have to help us carry them though. He's the muscle in the family.”
She turned her serious blue eyes on me and I would have agreed to rob a bank to keep her in pumpkins if I had needed to. “Donald, will you help us carry pumpkins, please?”
I pretended to think about it because it wouldn't do to have her know just how much sway she had over me. “Of course, since you asked so nicely.” I gave her a grin and she took my hand, her other already being held by Timmy, and pulled us towards where the line was forming for the next cart to take us out to the pumpkin fields.
The cart was made completely of wood with high sides and a canvas tarp covering the top. On the inside were bales of hay that substituted for benches. It was pulled by a tractor instead of the more traditional horses, but none of us really minded. We took seats in the back and watched as the rest of the bales filled up with families of varying age and size. A little boy and his parents settled themselves near us and he and Erica struck up a conversation as kids will do.
As decisive about things as Erica can be picking pumpkins was apparently her Achilles heel. After an hour of wandering up and down rows of what appeared to me to be perfectly good pumpkins she had finally narrowed it down to three. Since two were the traditional orange and one was a white ghost pumpkin Timmy made the executive decision that the house on Crow Street would need two, one of each kind. It worked for me and Erica seemed happy with the plan so I hoisted them up, showing off my muscles in the process, and carried them to where we would meet the cart for the trip back to the farm.
On the way back she leaned against Timmy who spent the whole ride making displeased noises over the amount of dirt and plant matter now clinging to his practically brand new sneakers. Timmy's idea of casual at home is lounging in his underwear and a t shirt, but out in public he rarely dressed down to my normal level. I lifted up a little to kiss the bald spot on the top his head and was rewarded with an exasperated smile. No doubt the sneakers would get a through cleaning when we got home, but for the moment he left off fussing with them to explain to Erica all the nutritional benefits of eating pumpkin.
Back at the farm we paid for our pumpkins, apples, some decorative corn and, in my opinion, a few too many pounds of various fresh vegetables that would no doubt find their way into what would otherwise be perfectly good food. With our treasures stowed safely in the trunk we got in and settled ourselves for the drive back to Albany. We were not even off the dirt track before Erica fell asleep, her head resting against the side of the child seat that Dale had loaned us for the day. She beat her daddy to dreamland by ten minutes. I know because I timed it.