Snapshots of Fall (part two)
Title: Snapshots of Fall (part two)
Author: lisacali
Pairing: Timothy/Donald
Rating: maturish, for brief sexual content
Summary: Autumn had renewed Timothy's desire for a child.
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: Timothy Callahan and Donald Strachey are not mine, just borrowing.
The first part of this is the of descriptions of a series of snapshots; part two is the stories behind them.
Part one is here
First Day of School
“Don’t forget, we have to leave a little early today, Donald. First day of school.”
“Yeah, I remember, I’m hurrying,” Donald answered from the bathroom. “Now that they’ve opened that new school on Blake Street, we’re going to have three school zones to go through.”
“I loved the first day of school,” Timmy said as he dressed. “Having new clothes, seeing your friends again, finding out who was going to be in your class.”
“Yeah, I guess it was okay,” Donald grudgingly agreed, coming into the bedroom, buttoning his shirt.
“And getting all the school supplies, I loved that! Wouldn’t that be fun to do again, picking out a backpack and pencil boxes and folders…”
“Subtle, you’re not, darling.” Donald patted Timothy’s cheek as he passed by him to grab his briefcase.
“I really don’t know what you mean,” Timothy sniffed. “I was just saying it would be fun to buy school supplies.”
“Uh huh.” Donald pulled on his jacket. “You can buy pencils and paper anytime you want.” He left the room, calling out behind him, “I’ll put the toast in.”
Timothy sat on the edge to put on his shoes and think about the different places the two of them were in their decision to adopt a child. They both wanted children, at least one, but the when of the situation was one they had trouble agreeing on. Timothy was realizing that he was ready to start that new chapter of their lives; he wasn’t sure Donald had even bought the book yet.
When Timothy go downstairs, Donald set a plate of toast in front of him and started talking before he could even say anything.
“Timmy, I know how much you want a kid, but look at us. We’re still paying off this house remodel, my car is on its last tire, and our hours are killer. If we adopted a baby, the sitter would be the one raising it.”
“And you know what I’m going to say to all those very plausible arguments - they can all be overcome. The credit cards are almost paid off, and then we can afford a car payment. I can find another job that will let me work from home, and with your schedule being so flexible, we could make it work.” Timothy looked pointedly at Donald. “And even if we started the paperwork right now, it would still probably be years until before we could get a child.”
Donald sighed. “I’m thinking about it, Timothy, I really am. Just give me a little more time.”
Timothy nodded. “Agreed.” He looked at his watch and gulped the rest of his coffee. “We need to go!” He quickly wrapped their uneaten toast in a napkin and the two ran for the door.
*****
Misunderstanding
Timothy dropped everything - his briefcase, coat, scarf and keys - and headed to the kitchen. He couldn’t remember being this hungry, and all he has thought about the last three hours was the leftover lasagna in the fridge.
The Governor had come in and announced that if all the staff could commit to having their budget meeting that evening instead of the next morning, they could take the day off and have a three-day weekend. That would work out perfectly for Timothy, giving him an extra day to get ready for the Halloween party he and Donald were having Saturday night.
Timothy’s lunch had been sparse - half a sandwich and a few tart grapes - and all through the meeting he was hoping his stomach would stay calm and not unleash the horrible gurgling, whining noises it made when he was hungry. And these were not the normal embarrassing growls - these were loud churnings and high-pitched keening wails, like a ghost was being drowned in a washing machine.
The first time Donald had heard it, his eyes had widened as he looked over at Timothy. “Is that your stomach?” he’d asked, incredulous.
Timothy had nodded and turned to look out the car window, wondering how bad it would hurt to open the door and just roll out on to the freeway. It was only their third date, and Timothy was sure sharing embarrassing gastric noises was at least a seventh or eighth date revelation.
But Donald, bless him, had only reached over and taken Timothy’s hand in his. “Good thing we’re on our way to dinner then, huh?”
Timothy had smiled at him with enormous gratitude. Of course, later on, Donald would use every growl and gurgle to tease Timothy relentlessly, which only served Timothy to make sure he never got too hungry.
He’d been lucky this day, his stomach had behaved until he was off the bus and walking the last few blocks to home. “Just a few more minutes, just a few more minutes,” he’d chanted, ignoring the sharp wind that had come up when the sun went down, focusing his concentration on how good that lasagna would taste. They were almost completely out of food, so when they’d picked up the pasta from Delmonico’s the night before, they’d gotten a double order, plenty for two meals.
Opening the refrigerator, he saw instantly that the plastic container with the blue lid was not there, but he couldn’t let himself believe it quite yet, and went through the ineffectual motion of moving the bottle of orange juice and carton of milk to the side to make sure he was not seeing what he thought he was not seeing. “Donald…” he fumed beneath his breath. How could he have eaten all that lasagna? And why would he, especially after the big deal Timothy had made about it last night, going on about how much better it was the next day, and how nice it was going to be to not have to worry about dinner.
He sighed, wondering what there was to eat in the house. And then he noticed the back yard through the window over the sink. He looked closer, then went to the back door and flicked on the floodlights.
When they had moved into this house, both Tim and Donald had been thrilled with the back yard - big enough to entertain, but not too big to overwhelm with its maintenance. The only nuisance, per se, was raking the leaves. There were four large oak trees in the yard, and while they appreciated the shade in the summer and the beauty of the changing leaves in the fall, neither was keen about raking those colorful leaves when they fell.
They had talked about it last night, with Donald promising to do it before he left for work today. Even though it would be too cold to go outside, they both wanted the yard to look nice for the party. And with a storm coming in tonight it would be easier to deal with than clumps of wet leaves.
Yet there they now were, a carpet of reddish-gold covering the back yard.
First the lasagna, now this -
Timmy’s stomach growled, accompanied by a sharp stab. Looking through the pitiful remains of their food supply, he realized he didn’t have much choice other than the last two eggs and the crust of bread left in the bag.
While he cooked, he tried to calm down. There was probably a very good reason that Donald hadn’t raked the leaves -maybe there had been an emergency with work, or…something. But what about the lasagna? Timmy took up the small skillet and tilted it over his plate, his intention to let the eggs slide out of the pan. Which they did…out of the pan and over the edge of his plate and onto the floor.
In very un-Timmy-like fashion, he ignored the eggs and took his toast to the kitchen table, where he was sitting when Donald got home.
Donald came into the kitchen, carrying a paper sack in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “You’re eating.”
Timothy took a bite of his crunchy toast. “Very observant,” he said, spraying crumbs.
“But I have dinner.” Donald held up the bag. “And wine.” He held up the bottle. “I text you, and left a message.”
Timothy patted his pockets, realizing his phone must be in his coat on the couch. And he hadn’t checked the messages on the home phone. But that didn’t do much to appease him.
“Did your message and text explain why there are leaves all over the yard and no lasagna?” he asked rather archly.
“No,” Donald answered, in a voice that was infuriatingly non-argumentative. “But here’s more lasagna.” He put the bag and wine on the counter. “And I’m going out right now to rake the leaves.” He wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck. “I’ll explain in a few.”
Timothy watched him go, almost calling him back as his righteous indignation drained away. It was dark and cold and he should have known Donald wouldn’t do anything without a good reason.
He went to the living room and took his phone from his coat, reading the text from Donald: “Bringing home dinner. I’ll take care of the leaves.”
He sighed. He was a jerk.
He saw he had another message, this one from Kenny. This wasn’t so surprising, Kenny sometimes sent him interesting news items he found on the internet, or funny You Tube videos involving cute animals or children, which wasn’t really Kenny’s thing, but he knew Timmy would appreciate them. He had been admonished by Donald from sending nude pictures of sexy men, the appropriateness of sending that type of picture to his boss’s husband being largely in question.
This message was only two pictures: One was Donald and a young boy, kneeling in a pile of leaves, throwing them at each other. The other was a crooked shot of Donald, the boy, and Kenny, sitting shoulder to shoulder at the table. Half a plate was visible in the picture, and on it was Timothy’s missing lasagna.
Timothy sighed again. The boy in the pictures had to be Kenny’s nephew, whom he had mentioned from time to time - Jase, he thought his name was. They had obviously stopped by, and Donald had offered them the only food in the house.
Timothy went back to the other picture - the boy looked like he was having so much fun…and so did Donald.
Timothy pulled on his coat and gloves on and went to help Donald with the leaves. As they raked and bagged, racing against the stiffening breeze and smell of rain in the air, Donald explained how Kenny had come by to drop off some papers so Donald wouldn’t have to go to the office before heading out on his latest assignment. He had his nephew, Jase, with him because there was no school that day and he was watching him for his sister, Jase’s mother.
They had found him out back, raking the leaves. Jase mentioned how they had big trees, too, but his dad never let him play in the leaves.
“And you couldn’t let that go by, could you?” Timothy asked affectionately.
“No!” Timothy could see the look of bewilderment on Donald’s face in the glow of the floodlight. “Who doesn’t let their kid jump in leaves? And then I realized how late it was getting and everyone was starving…” Donald leaned on his rake for a moment. “And so we ate your lasagna.”
Timothy went to his husband and kissed him. “You did the right thing. I was acting like a child myself. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted. Now let’s get this finished before we freeze!”
After a quick and extremely delicious dinner, even the wine hadn’t done much to warm them. They decided a hot shower and early to bed would be the best solution.
After their shower, the two crawled into bed naked, cuddling tightly together for warmth. “You know,” Timmy said, throwing his leg over Donald’s hip and pressing even closer, “seeing that picture of you with Jase has made me a little horny.”
“First of all,” Donald answered, sliding his hand between them, “I’d say you were more than a little horny. And second, if seeing me with young boys makes you horny, then ooh, gross.”
Timothy gave a vicious twist to the nipple he’d just been rolling gently between his fingers. “You deserved that,” he said, in reply to Donald’s yelp of pain. “I just meant, imagining you as a father is something I find highly sexy.”
“And thirdly, trying to sex me into adopting a baby…” Here Donald paused before pushing Timothy onto his back and rolling on top of him… “just might work,” he said, pinning his husband to the bed with a deep kiss.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean just to get in my pants,” Timmy said, when he could pull his mouth free to talk.
“You’re not wearing pants.”
Timothy twisted and pushed and reversed their positions. “Semantics.”
Timmy pressed his mouth to Donald’s and renewed their kiss. Soon, they were in a frenzy of passion, touching and kissing, pushing and pulling, whispering words of love and panting in their lust, until Timothy could wait no more. He moved between Donald’s legs and slid smoothly into his lover, both of them gasping as they finally moved together.
Afterward, they lay holding hands, Donald on the verge of sleep, while Timothy stared at the ceiling. “We have a lot to do the next two days.”
“Uh huh.”
“Did I tell you I have the day off?”
“Uh huh.”
“That worked out great, didn’t it?”
“Uh huh.”
“Goodnight, love.”
“ ‘night.”
*****
Party
The preparations went more smoothly than Timothy could have imagined. After a fast, bitter storm came through Thursday night, the weather cleared and warmed. They had to go to the store just three more times after their initial shopping on Friday morning, and Timothy had only a minor stress attack when the belt on the vacuum broke. Donald fixed the situation by running across the street and borrowing Mrs. Hardy’s vacuum, which turned out to work much better than theirs.
“I always thought this little rug was beige,” Donald called down from the upstairs hallway where he was running the vacuum. “It’s white!”
“Your wit is not appreciated at this moment!” Timothy called back up, setting out the wine and highball glasses.
The party was a success. There was music and singing and a highly competitive and hilarious game of charades. Timothy was holding his breath when midnight rolled around and no one seemed to be thinking of leaving - he wasn’t sure the ice was going to hold out. But it did, and by 1:30 the last lingering guest had left, no one having suffered a warm drink.
After checking the locks and making sure everything perishable was put away, Donald insisted Timothy leave the rest for the next day - or rather, later that day. Timothy didn’t put up much of an argument, and he and Donald helped each other up the stairs.
“What did you think of Debbie’s new hair color?” Timmy asked.
“I seriously almost asked her if it was a Halloween wig.”
“Donald!” But Timmy laughed in spite of himself.
A few minutes later, while Timothy was brushing his teeth, Donald asked, almost too casually from the bedroom, where he was undressing, “How about Jeff and Dan’s baby? Did you see the pictures?”
Timothy almost swallowed his toothpaste, so excited over the fact that it was Donald bringing up the subject of babies this time. He kept his cool, rinsing his mouth before he answered. “Of course I saw them. They may as well have printed them out and pasted them to their foreheads, as much as they were passing their phones around!”
“I guess all parents are like that.”
“And he is the cutest little thing.”
“Yeah.” Donald grinned and nodded at Timothy. “He is.”
Donald went to Timmy and wrapped his arms around him. “You did a great party, honey. And have I mentioned how much I appreciate that it wasn’t a costume party?”
“Several times.” Timothy kissed Donald’s nose. “But I wouldn’t mind if you showed me how much.”
“And how would you like me to do that?” Donald’s brow raised and his hands slid down to cup Timmy’s ass.
“Clean the kitchen.”
*****
Halloween
Donald and Timothy got home Monday night just as it was getting dark. “You get the lights in the jack-o-lanterns and I’ll get the candy.” There was already a couple trick-or-treaters coming up the walk, but they got everything ready by the time the little pumpkin and Pretty Pony rang their bell.
The two took turns answering the door, which kept them moving. The storm of a few days ago was long forgotten and the mild weather had produced a large turn out of kids.
After about an hour and a half, the candy was running dangerously low. “I think we’re going to have to get some more, Donald.”
Donald sighed and went to the hall closet, pulling out a plastic grocery sack and handing it to Timothy. “My secret stash. Take it, just take it!” He put his hands over his face and turned away, fake sobbing dramatically.
“How about a martini instead?” Timothy asked him.
“Yep, that sounds good!” Donald came over and took the candy. “I’ll man the door and you man the bar.”
Later, as they sat on the couch and ate a late dinner of sandwiches and chips and watched ‘A Nightmare Before Christmas,’ their talk turned to some of the costumes they had seen.
“A whole lot of zombies this year.”
“And I had a couple Walt and Jesses.”
“Whatever happened to ghosts and cats and devils?” Timothy took a few chips off Donald’s plate.
“I had a cat,” Donald said, frowning as his chips disappeared into Timothy’s face. He brightened when he described the little girl. “When her mom told her to say ‘thank you’ she blew me a kiss instead.”
“Oh, that is adorable!” Timothy took a breath and turned toward his husband. “We could make it work, Donald.” He held up his hand to stop any argument. “I’m not pressing, I’m just saying - if everyone waited until they had enough money or were working the right hours or had the perfect situation, there would be a lot of kids not being born or adopted.” He kissed Donald on the cheek and stood up, collecting their dishes. “You just keep thinking about it.” He turned as he reached the kitchen. “And don’t forget, we’re not getting any younger.”
*****
Thanksgiving
Donald pushed back from the table, groaning as he unbuckled his belt and lowered the zipper on his pants.
“Donald, really, at the table?”
“C’mon, honey, this is one of the perks of it being just us.”
Timothy gave in, grinning good-naturedly. “Sure, go ahead. You need to make room for that pie.”
“Pie! I don’t think I’m going to be ready for pie for at least an hour.”
“Well, I think I could manage a sliver now.”
Timothy went into the kitchen, pouring a large mug of coffee and cutting a slice of the pumpkin pie he and Donald had made together from scratch, taking two forks, just in case.
He knew his mother had been disappointed that they hadn’t made it for Thanksgiving dinner, but he and Donald had really felt a desire to stay home this year. And it had been so nice, making the menu, and doing the shopping, and then spending the morning in the kitchen, doing everything together, with the football games on the TV in the background.
“You know,” Donald said a few minutes later, taking a bite of the pie, “if we have a baby, we’re not going to be able to do this again.”
Timothy swallowed hard, the subject of a baby coming totally out of the blue. “Uh, and why is that?”
“Do you think your family is going to pass up any opportunity to see their grandchild?”
Timothy’s wiped his hands on his pants; his palms were getting a little sweaty. “Why are you bringing this up?”
Donald reached for Timothy’s freshly dried hand. “I’ve been thinking a lot about it, Timmy, and you’re right. There will never be a perfect time, no time more perfect than this. Let’s do it. Let’s have a baby.”
Timothy’s fingers curled around Donald’s, squeezing hard. “Are you sure? You’re really sure?”
Donald nodded. “I love you so much, Timothy Callahan. And you’re the most loving person I know. I can’t wait to share all this love with another person.”
“Oh, Donald.” Timothy took off his glasses and wiped at his eyes. “That is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” he said, getting to his feet.
When Donald tried to follow suit, he had to grab his pants to keep them from falling. When he started to zip them, Timothy pulled his hands away. “Don’t bother. I’m going to take you upstairs and you’re not going to need pants for several hours.”
A few minutes later, Timothy grabbed a handful of Donald’s hair and pulled his head up.
“What?” Donald asked, looking confused. He kissed Timothy’s thigh. “You were almost there, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but I want you in me - I want us to finish together.”
“We can do that.” Donald slid up his lover’s body, pressing slowly inside him.
He lay still and heavy on top of Timothy, kissing him softly, until Timmy wrapped his legs around him and wiggled his hips. “You know, you have to move to make this work, sweetheart.”
“Uh, yes, I have done this a time or two.” Donald lifted his head to look at Timmy. “I just want to remember this moment. You know, when we have kids, we’re not going to be able to do this as often as we’d like.”
Timothy frowned, as though in deep thought. “Well, then,” he said, a grin brightening his face, “we’re just going to have to do it as much as we can until then.”
“You always were the smart one, darling.”
“Flattery will get you…a lot of places, obviously.”
The two kissed, their passion rising, their bodies moving together as one.
*****
Epilogue
Family
Timothy stands at the bottom of the staircase, a camera in his hand. Coming down the stairs is Donald, holding a small boy, about two years old. His nose is painted black, and he has black whiskers drawn across his cheeks. He’s wearing a fuzzy gray hat, with two little black pointed ears poking up from the top. He has one arm around Donald’s neck, and is holding an orange pumpkin bucket.
The little boy is laughing, and Donald and Timothy are laughing along with him.
~end~
Author: lisacali
Pairing: Timothy/Donald
Rating: maturish, for brief sexual content
Summary: Autumn had renewed Timothy's desire for a child.
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: Timothy Callahan and Donald Strachey are not mine, just borrowing.
The first part of this is the of descriptions of a series of snapshots; part two is the stories behind them.
Part one is here
First Day of School
“Don’t forget, we have to leave a little early today, Donald. First day of school.”
“Yeah, I remember, I’m hurrying,” Donald answered from the bathroom. “Now that they’ve opened that new school on Blake Street, we’re going to have three school zones to go through.”
“I loved the first day of school,” Timmy said as he dressed. “Having new clothes, seeing your friends again, finding out who was going to be in your class.”
“Yeah, I guess it was okay,” Donald grudgingly agreed, coming into the bedroom, buttoning his shirt.
“And getting all the school supplies, I loved that! Wouldn’t that be fun to do again, picking out a backpack and pencil boxes and folders…”
“Subtle, you’re not, darling.” Donald patted Timothy’s cheek as he passed by him to grab his briefcase.
“I really don’t know what you mean,” Timothy sniffed. “I was just saying it would be fun to buy school supplies.”
“Uh huh.” Donald pulled on his jacket. “You can buy pencils and paper anytime you want.” He left the room, calling out behind him, “I’ll put the toast in.”
Timothy sat on the edge to put on his shoes and think about the different places the two of them were in their decision to adopt a child. They both wanted children, at least one, but the when of the situation was one they had trouble agreeing on. Timothy was realizing that he was ready to start that new chapter of their lives; he wasn’t sure Donald had even bought the book yet.
When Timothy go downstairs, Donald set a plate of toast in front of him and started talking before he could even say anything.
“Timmy, I know how much you want a kid, but look at us. We’re still paying off this house remodel, my car is on its last tire, and our hours are killer. If we adopted a baby, the sitter would be the one raising it.”
“And you know what I’m going to say to all those very plausible arguments - they can all be overcome. The credit cards are almost paid off, and then we can afford a car payment. I can find another job that will let me work from home, and with your schedule being so flexible, we could make it work.” Timothy looked pointedly at Donald. “And even if we started the paperwork right now, it would still probably be years until before we could get a child.”
Donald sighed. “I’m thinking about it, Timothy, I really am. Just give me a little more time.”
Timothy nodded. “Agreed.” He looked at his watch and gulped the rest of his coffee. “We need to go!” He quickly wrapped their uneaten toast in a napkin and the two ran for the door.
*****
Misunderstanding
Timothy dropped everything - his briefcase, coat, scarf and keys - and headed to the kitchen. He couldn’t remember being this hungry, and all he has thought about the last three hours was the leftover lasagna in the fridge.
The Governor had come in and announced that if all the staff could commit to having their budget meeting that evening instead of the next morning, they could take the day off and have a three-day weekend. That would work out perfectly for Timothy, giving him an extra day to get ready for the Halloween party he and Donald were having Saturday night.
Timothy’s lunch had been sparse - half a sandwich and a few tart grapes - and all through the meeting he was hoping his stomach would stay calm and not unleash the horrible gurgling, whining noises it made when he was hungry. And these were not the normal embarrassing growls - these were loud churnings and high-pitched keening wails, like a ghost was being drowned in a washing machine.
The first time Donald had heard it, his eyes had widened as he looked over at Timothy. “Is that your stomach?” he’d asked, incredulous.
Timothy had nodded and turned to look out the car window, wondering how bad it would hurt to open the door and just roll out on to the freeway. It was only their third date, and Timothy was sure sharing embarrassing gastric noises was at least a seventh or eighth date revelation.
But Donald, bless him, had only reached over and taken Timothy’s hand in his. “Good thing we’re on our way to dinner then, huh?”
Timothy had smiled at him with enormous gratitude. Of course, later on, Donald would use every growl and gurgle to tease Timothy relentlessly, which only served Timothy to make sure he never got too hungry.
He’d been lucky this day, his stomach had behaved until he was off the bus and walking the last few blocks to home. “Just a few more minutes, just a few more minutes,” he’d chanted, ignoring the sharp wind that had come up when the sun went down, focusing his concentration on how good that lasagna would taste. They were almost completely out of food, so when they’d picked up the pasta from Delmonico’s the night before, they’d gotten a double order, plenty for two meals.
Opening the refrigerator, he saw instantly that the plastic container with the blue lid was not there, but he couldn’t let himself believe it quite yet, and went through the ineffectual motion of moving the bottle of orange juice and carton of milk to the side to make sure he was not seeing what he thought he was not seeing. “Donald…” he fumed beneath his breath. How could he have eaten all that lasagna? And why would he, especially after the big deal Timothy had made about it last night, going on about how much better it was the next day, and how nice it was going to be to not have to worry about dinner.
He sighed, wondering what there was to eat in the house. And then he noticed the back yard through the window over the sink. He looked closer, then went to the back door and flicked on the floodlights.
When they had moved into this house, both Tim and Donald had been thrilled with the back yard - big enough to entertain, but not too big to overwhelm with its maintenance. The only nuisance, per se, was raking the leaves. There were four large oak trees in the yard, and while they appreciated the shade in the summer and the beauty of the changing leaves in the fall, neither was keen about raking those colorful leaves when they fell.
They had talked about it last night, with Donald promising to do it before he left for work today. Even though it would be too cold to go outside, they both wanted the yard to look nice for the party. And with a storm coming in tonight it would be easier to deal with than clumps of wet leaves.
Yet there they now were, a carpet of reddish-gold covering the back yard.
First the lasagna, now this -
Timmy’s stomach growled, accompanied by a sharp stab. Looking through the pitiful remains of their food supply, he realized he didn’t have much choice other than the last two eggs and the crust of bread left in the bag.
While he cooked, he tried to calm down. There was probably a very good reason that Donald hadn’t raked the leaves -maybe there had been an emergency with work, or…something. But what about the lasagna? Timmy took up the small skillet and tilted it over his plate, his intention to let the eggs slide out of the pan. Which they did…out of the pan and over the edge of his plate and onto the floor.
In very un-Timmy-like fashion, he ignored the eggs and took his toast to the kitchen table, where he was sitting when Donald got home.
Donald came into the kitchen, carrying a paper sack in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “You’re eating.”
Timothy took a bite of his crunchy toast. “Very observant,” he said, spraying crumbs.
“But I have dinner.” Donald held up the bag. “And wine.” He held up the bottle. “I text you, and left a message.”
Timothy patted his pockets, realizing his phone must be in his coat on the couch. And he hadn’t checked the messages on the home phone. But that didn’t do much to appease him.
“Did your message and text explain why there are leaves all over the yard and no lasagna?” he asked rather archly.
“No,” Donald answered, in a voice that was infuriatingly non-argumentative. “But here’s more lasagna.” He put the bag and wine on the counter. “And I’m going out right now to rake the leaves.” He wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck. “I’ll explain in a few.”
Timothy watched him go, almost calling him back as his righteous indignation drained away. It was dark and cold and he should have known Donald wouldn’t do anything without a good reason.
He went to the living room and took his phone from his coat, reading the text from Donald: “Bringing home dinner. I’ll take care of the leaves.”
He sighed. He was a jerk.
He saw he had another message, this one from Kenny. This wasn’t so surprising, Kenny sometimes sent him interesting news items he found on the internet, or funny You Tube videos involving cute animals or children, which wasn’t really Kenny’s thing, but he knew Timmy would appreciate them. He had been admonished by Donald from sending nude pictures of sexy men, the appropriateness of sending that type of picture to his boss’s husband being largely in question.
This message was only two pictures: One was Donald and a young boy, kneeling in a pile of leaves, throwing them at each other. The other was a crooked shot of Donald, the boy, and Kenny, sitting shoulder to shoulder at the table. Half a plate was visible in the picture, and on it was Timothy’s missing lasagna.
Timothy sighed again. The boy in the pictures had to be Kenny’s nephew, whom he had mentioned from time to time - Jase, he thought his name was. They had obviously stopped by, and Donald had offered them the only food in the house.
Timothy went back to the other picture - the boy looked like he was having so much fun…and so did Donald.
Timothy pulled on his coat and gloves on and went to help Donald with the leaves. As they raked and bagged, racing against the stiffening breeze and smell of rain in the air, Donald explained how Kenny had come by to drop off some papers so Donald wouldn’t have to go to the office before heading out on his latest assignment. He had his nephew, Jase, with him because there was no school that day and he was watching him for his sister, Jase’s mother.
They had found him out back, raking the leaves. Jase mentioned how they had big trees, too, but his dad never let him play in the leaves.
“And you couldn’t let that go by, could you?” Timothy asked affectionately.
“No!” Timothy could see the look of bewilderment on Donald’s face in the glow of the floodlight. “Who doesn’t let their kid jump in leaves? And then I realized how late it was getting and everyone was starving…” Donald leaned on his rake for a moment. “And so we ate your lasagna.”
Timothy went to his husband and kissed him. “You did the right thing. I was acting like a child myself. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted. Now let’s get this finished before we freeze!”
After a quick and extremely delicious dinner, even the wine hadn’t done much to warm them. They decided a hot shower and early to bed would be the best solution.
After their shower, the two crawled into bed naked, cuddling tightly together for warmth. “You know,” Timmy said, throwing his leg over Donald’s hip and pressing even closer, “seeing that picture of you with Jase has made me a little horny.”
“First of all,” Donald answered, sliding his hand between them, “I’d say you were more than a little horny. And second, if seeing me with young boys makes you horny, then ooh, gross.”
Timothy gave a vicious twist to the nipple he’d just been rolling gently between his fingers. “You deserved that,” he said, in reply to Donald’s yelp of pain. “I just meant, imagining you as a father is something I find highly sexy.”
“And thirdly, trying to sex me into adopting a baby…” Here Donald paused before pushing Timothy onto his back and rolling on top of him… “just might work,” he said, pinning his husband to the bed with a deep kiss.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean just to get in my pants,” Timmy said, when he could pull his mouth free to talk.
“You’re not wearing pants.”
Timothy twisted and pushed and reversed their positions. “Semantics.”
Timmy pressed his mouth to Donald’s and renewed their kiss. Soon, they were in a frenzy of passion, touching and kissing, pushing and pulling, whispering words of love and panting in their lust, until Timothy could wait no more. He moved between Donald’s legs and slid smoothly into his lover, both of them gasping as they finally moved together.
Afterward, they lay holding hands, Donald on the verge of sleep, while Timothy stared at the ceiling. “We have a lot to do the next two days.”
“Uh huh.”
“Did I tell you I have the day off?”
“Uh huh.”
“That worked out great, didn’t it?”
“Uh huh.”
“Goodnight, love.”
“ ‘night.”
*****
Party
The preparations went more smoothly than Timothy could have imagined. After a fast, bitter storm came through Thursday night, the weather cleared and warmed. They had to go to the store just three more times after their initial shopping on Friday morning, and Timothy had only a minor stress attack when the belt on the vacuum broke. Donald fixed the situation by running across the street and borrowing Mrs. Hardy’s vacuum, which turned out to work much better than theirs.
“I always thought this little rug was beige,” Donald called down from the upstairs hallway where he was running the vacuum. “It’s white!”
“Your wit is not appreciated at this moment!” Timothy called back up, setting out the wine and highball glasses.
The party was a success. There was music and singing and a highly competitive and hilarious game of charades. Timothy was holding his breath when midnight rolled around and no one seemed to be thinking of leaving - he wasn’t sure the ice was going to hold out. But it did, and by 1:30 the last lingering guest had left, no one having suffered a warm drink.
After checking the locks and making sure everything perishable was put away, Donald insisted Timothy leave the rest for the next day - or rather, later that day. Timothy didn’t put up much of an argument, and he and Donald helped each other up the stairs.
“What did you think of Debbie’s new hair color?” Timmy asked.
“I seriously almost asked her if it was a Halloween wig.”
“Donald!” But Timmy laughed in spite of himself.
A few minutes later, while Timothy was brushing his teeth, Donald asked, almost too casually from the bedroom, where he was undressing, “How about Jeff and Dan’s baby? Did you see the pictures?”
Timothy almost swallowed his toothpaste, so excited over the fact that it was Donald bringing up the subject of babies this time. He kept his cool, rinsing his mouth before he answered. “Of course I saw them. They may as well have printed them out and pasted them to their foreheads, as much as they were passing their phones around!”
“I guess all parents are like that.”
“And he is the cutest little thing.”
“Yeah.” Donald grinned and nodded at Timothy. “He is.”
Donald went to Timmy and wrapped his arms around him. “You did a great party, honey. And have I mentioned how much I appreciate that it wasn’t a costume party?”
“Several times.” Timothy kissed Donald’s nose. “But I wouldn’t mind if you showed me how much.”
“And how would you like me to do that?” Donald’s brow raised and his hands slid down to cup Timmy’s ass.
“Clean the kitchen.”
*****
Halloween
Donald and Timothy got home Monday night just as it was getting dark. “You get the lights in the jack-o-lanterns and I’ll get the candy.” There was already a couple trick-or-treaters coming up the walk, but they got everything ready by the time the little pumpkin and Pretty Pony rang their bell.
The two took turns answering the door, which kept them moving. The storm of a few days ago was long forgotten and the mild weather had produced a large turn out of kids.
After about an hour and a half, the candy was running dangerously low. “I think we’re going to have to get some more, Donald.”
Donald sighed and went to the hall closet, pulling out a plastic grocery sack and handing it to Timothy. “My secret stash. Take it, just take it!” He put his hands over his face and turned away, fake sobbing dramatically.
“How about a martini instead?” Timothy asked him.
“Yep, that sounds good!” Donald came over and took the candy. “I’ll man the door and you man the bar.”
Later, as they sat on the couch and ate a late dinner of sandwiches and chips and watched ‘A Nightmare Before Christmas,’ their talk turned to some of the costumes they had seen.
“A whole lot of zombies this year.”
“And I had a couple Walt and Jesses.”
“Whatever happened to ghosts and cats and devils?” Timothy took a few chips off Donald’s plate.
“I had a cat,” Donald said, frowning as his chips disappeared into Timothy’s face. He brightened when he described the little girl. “When her mom told her to say ‘thank you’ she blew me a kiss instead.”
“Oh, that is adorable!” Timothy took a breath and turned toward his husband. “We could make it work, Donald.” He held up his hand to stop any argument. “I’m not pressing, I’m just saying - if everyone waited until they had enough money or were working the right hours or had the perfect situation, there would be a lot of kids not being born or adopted.” He kissed Donald on the cheek and stood up, collecting their dishes. “You just keep thinking about it.” He turned as he reached the kitchen. “And don’t forget, we’re not getting any younger.”
*****
Thanksgiving
Donald pushed back from the table, groaning as he unbuckled his belt and lowered the zipper on his pants.
“Donald, really, at the table?”
“C’mon, honey, this is one of the perks of it being just us.”
Timothy gave in, grinning good-naturedly. “Sure, go ahead. You need to make room for that pie.”
“Pie! I don’t think I’m going to be ready for pie for at least an hour.”
“Well, I think I could manage a sliver now.”
Timothy went into the kitchen, pouring a large mug of coffee and cutting a slice of the pumpkin pie he and Donald had made together from scratch, taking two forks, just in case.
He knew his mother had been disappointed that they hadn’t made it for Thanksgiving dinner, but he and Donald had really felt a desire to stay home this year. And it had been so nice, making the menu, and doing the shopping, and then spending the morning in the kitchen, doing everything together, with the football games on the TV in the background.
“You know,” Donald said a few minutes later, taking a bite of the pie, “if we have a baby, we’re not going to be able to do this again.”
Timothy swallowed hard, the subject of a baby coming totally out of the blue. “Uh, and why is that?”
“Do you think your family is going to pass up any opportunity to see their grandchild?”
Timothy’s wiped his hands on his pants; his palms were getting a little sweaty. “Why are you bringing this up?”
Donald reached for Timothy’s freshly dried hand. “I’ve been thinking a lot about it, Timmy, and you’re right. There will never be a perfect time, no time more perfect than this. Let’s do it. Let’s have a baby.”
Timothy’s fingers curled around Donald’s, squeezing hard. “Are you sure? You’re really sure?”
Donald nodded. “I love you so much, Timothy Callahan. And you’re the most loving person I know. I can’t wait to share all this love with another person.”
“Oh, Donald.” Timothy took off his glasses and wiped at his eyes. “That is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” he said, getting to his feet.
When Donald tried to follow suit, he had to grab his pants to keep them from falling. When he started to zip them, Timothy pulled his hands away. “Don’t bother. I’m going to take you upstairs and you’re not going to need pants for several hours.”
A few minutes later, Timothy grabbed a handful of Donald’s hair and pulled his head up.
“What?” Donald asked, looking confused. He kissed Timothy’s thigh. “You were almost there, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but I want you in me - I want us to finish together.”
“We can do that.” Donald slid up his lover’s body, pressing slowly inside him.
He lay still and heavy on top of Timothy, kissing him softly, until Timmy wrapped his legs around him and wiggled his hips. “You know, you have to move to make this work, sweetheart.”
“Uh, yes, I have done this a time or two.” Donald lifted his head to look at Timmy. “I just want to remember this moment. You know, when we have kids, we’re not going to be able to do this as often as we’d like.”
Timothy frowned, as though in deep thought. “Well, then,” he said, a grin brightening his face, “we’re just going to have to do it as much as we can until then.”
“You always were the smart one, darling.”
“Flattery will get you…a lot of places, obviously.”
The two kissed, their passion rising, their bodies moving together as one.
*****
Epilogue
Family
Timothy stands at the bottom of the staircase, a camera in his hand. Coming down the stairs is Donald, holding a small boy, about two years old. His nose is painted black, and he has black whiskers drawn across his cheeks. He’s wearing a fuzzy gray hat, with two little black pointed ears poking up from the top. He has one arm around Donald’s neck, and is holding an orange pumpkin bucket.
The little boy is laughing, and Donald and Timothy are laughing along with him.
~end~