Fic - Donald Strachey Mysteries - In a Word
Title: In a Word by NyteFlyer
Fandom: The Donald Strachey Mysteries
Pairing: Donald and Timmy, of course!
Rating: R for language
Word Count: 1250
Spoilers: There’s one microscopic reference to Shock to the System.
Summary: Enquiring minds….
Genre: Utter nonsense
Disclaimer: I’m not making any money here. As always, the rights belong to the ever-so-brilliant Richard Stevenson, Ron Oliver, et al. But we all know the guys really just belong to each other. I don’t look for that to change anytime soon.
Gratuitous Groveling: To Babsilicious, as always, for the beta.
Author’s Note: Just a bit of foolishness that came to me around four in the morning when I was too stressed out to sleep and needed to amuse myself. The concept was inspired, in part, by Candy’s “Basket Cases.”
“Honey?”
“mmmmrrrrrrrrr….”
“Hey, honey?”
“mrrrorpfttttt…wha???”
“Honey, are you awake?”
“Well, I certainly am now. What time is it?”
“Late.”
“How late?”
“Damn late.”
“My God, it’s four in the morning! Are you just getting in? Are you all right? What’s wrong?”
“Shhhh. Everything’s okay. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You don‘t sound fine. You sound…strange.”
“I’m okay, I promise. I’m tired and I probably smell like the inside of a dumpster, but….”
“Thank God! You don’t know how much I worry.”
“I do know, and I love you for it. I was just wondering….”
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s stupid. Go back to sleep.”
“Oh no, I don’t think so. What is it?”
“If you had to pick one word to describe me to someone, what would it be?”
“You woke me up out of a sound sleep and scared me half out of my wits just to ask…?”
“Well…yeah. Please? I really want to know.”
“Right now, annoying comes to mind.”
“If you weren’t pissed off at me, I mean.”
. . . .
“Sweetheart?”
“Insane.”
“I said if you weren’t pissed off.”
“Childlike, then. But I suppose I might mean that in a reasonably good way.”
“I can live with that. What else?”
“Handsome, of course.”
“Of course.”
“And sexy.”
“I definitely like that one.”
“You can be quite chivalrous when the mood strikes you.”
“I always try to be chivalrous to you.”
“You are. It’s one of the many reasons I love you.”
“Tell me the other reasons.”
“I thought you wanted me to describe you.”
“Tomato, tomahto. What else?”
“Well, let me see. Four a.m. Q&A sessions notwithstanding, you’re very considerate of my feelings. You’re also strong, intelligent, honest, faithful, affectionate….”
“I’m starting to sound like a boy scout.”
“Darling, I’d never, ever compare you to a boy scout.”
“Like a cocker spaniel, then.”
“Well, you do like to sit in my lap, and you’ve been known to get your muddy paws all over the furniture.”
“Sorry I asked.”
“Why did you ask, anyway?”
. . . .
“Honey?”
“I dunno….”
“Yes, you do. You’ve been thinking again, and that’s never good. Now tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
“Well, three times this week, I’ve gotten calls from people who were referred to me by old clients.”
“That’s wonderful! You do such an outstanding job, your business can’t help but increase thanks to all that positive word of mouth.”
“Yeah, well. Not all of it’s exactly been positive.”
“What do you mean?”
“All three of them started the conversation in exactly the same way. ‘So-and-so says you’re a real asshole, but you’re a professional and you charge reasonable rates.’ Hey, what’s so funny?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just that you were described that way to me -- nearly word for word, as I recall -- all those years ago when I hired you to follow Congressman Fletcher’s wife.”
“Peachy.”
“At least you’re consistent.”
. . . .
“Hey.”
. . . .
“Heyyyyy….”
“Is that how you’d describe me, too? As an asshole?”
“Of course not. I’d never dream of being that redundant.”
“I notice you’re not exactly saying I’m not one.”
“You’ve never acted like one to me. That’s all that matters. You’re the antithesis of an asshole, as a matter of fact.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You may have a rough exterior, but beneath that, you’re a very gentle, kind-hearted person. I feel like the luckiest man on earth to have someone like you in my life.”
“God, I love you!”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“I mean just that. Why do you love me? Now it’s your turn. What words would you use to describe me?”
“That’s easy! You’re beautiful.”
“And you’re prejudiced.”
“Maybe. But you’re still beautiful. And you’re the smartest guy I know.”
“That’s more than one word.”
“Intelligent, then. No, wait. Intellectual.”
“Go on.”
“You’re a good person. You’re kind to people, even when they don’t really deserve it. Especially to me.”
“It’s easy to be kind to you. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
. . . .
. . . .
“Mmmm…that feels nice….”
“I can make it feel a lot nicer.”
“Mmmmmm…ooooooohhhhhhh…no…no…wait! I want you….”
“I want you, too, sweetheart.”
“No! I mean…not yet. I want you to finish what we started….”
“Before I start what’s gonna take us the rest of the night to finish, you mean?”
“Something like that. How else would you describe me?”
“Well, you’re very particular about everything.”
“Are you calling me anal?”
“Par-tic-u-lar. Like the way you keep this place livable in spite of everything I do to mess it up. You keep up with my schedule better than I do. And you’re a really snappy dresser.”
“In a word, please.”
“All right, elegant, then. You’re elegant.”
“Oh, please!”
“Well, you are. And hot. Definitely hot.”
“I believe I’m currently at 98.6, just the same as you are.”
“Very funny. You know what I mean.
Tell me what you mean, handsome.”
“Oh my God, do you have any idea what you do to me when your voice goes all low and husky like that?”
“Well, of course. Why do you think I do it?”
“You are an evil, manipulative man.”
“So you’ve said on a number of occasions. Now who’s being redundant?”
“Some things bear repeating.”
“Hmm. Well, what else? In a word.”
“In a word, you’re…fuckable.”
“Excuse me?
“Fuckable. You’re the most fuckable person I’ve ever met.”
“I’m going back to sleep now.”
“Hey, now. I meant that as a compliment.”
“I fail to see….”
“There’s this…softness about you….”
“Oh, good. I’m effeminate now….
“No! I didn’t mean it like that. I mean you’re accessible….”
“…and an easy lay….”
“Would you cut it out! I mean there’s nothing cold or distant about you. You’re always so warm and open toward me, and you always put me first, no matter what. I mean, sometimes I just want to have sex for the sake of having sex, you know? To scratch that itch.”
“I know you do.”
“And sometimes it’s because I’m stressed out and frustrated and need to blow off steam.”
“I know that, too. There are some nights when I don’t think you’d be able to sleep at all if you didn’t have some sort of release.”
“Exactly. And sometimes I start thinking about things I really shouldn’t waste my time thinking about, you know? Remembering things I’d be better off forgetting. And it still gets to me. It still…hurts…even though I know it shouldn’t, and the only thing that can make it stop is being close to you….”
“Oh, baby….”
. . . .
. . . .
“I always want to be close to you, no matter what else is going on. That’s what it all comes down to. Nothing I’ve ever done in my life has felt half as good as making love to you. I need it. I need you. And it’s like you’ve always understood that without me having to say a thing. In all these years, you’ve never turned me down, not even once, not even when you were tired or pissed off at me or not in the mood. You love me that much, and you’re always willing to show it, no matter what.”
“Let me show you now, baby.”
“We can show each other. Know what?“
“What?“
“I’m really glad you’re mine. That’s how I’d describe you, you know, if anybody’d ask. In a word….”
“In a word?”
“Mine.”