FIC - The Old Familiar Carols Play (Part 4)
Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries
Title: The Old Familiar Carols Play
Pairings: Donald/Timmy
Rating: various, with one NC-17 chapter
Spoilers: minor ones for most of the movies
Summary: Some Christmases are more memorable than others.
Warning: A crazy rainbow of emotions.
Author’s Note: I covered as many of the prompts as I could when writing this. If I left yours out, either thematically or musically, I do apologize. I could only fit in twelve chapters. Thanks guys! As always, thanks to my wonderful betas mjmcca and nyteflyer .
All Others Doth Deface
God rest ye merry, gentlemen. Let nothing you dismay.
Donald shifted his rifle a bit higher and sighed. Then sneezed. Damned sand.
“I swear to God, Strachey, you must be allergic to sand,” a voice spoke from behind him.
“Well, if I am I'm in the wrong business, huh, Patterson?” Donald replied, squinting toward the setting sun. Patterson chuckled softly as he stepped up next to Donald. He scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Hell, we're all in the wrong business,” Patterson said. “Christ, it's hot. That's just so wrong.”
“Yeah, well, it's a living,” Donald said. Sweat rolled down the side of his neck, leaving itchy trails behind. “Besides, it'll cool down after sunset.”
“La-dee-freakin'-da. Then I'll be sandy, clammy and itchy. Happy goddamned holidays,” Patterson sighed. Laughing aloud, Donald clapped a hand to Patterson's shoulder.
“It's just patrol, man,” Donald said.
“Yeah, it could be mortars,” Patterson agreed, though he returned the chuckle. “Anyway, you're done and Lieu wants to see you.”
“Any idea why?” Donald asked, swinging his rifle up to point at the sky. Patterson shrugged a shoulder.
“Probably mail call. We're all gettin' Christmas shit,” Patterson replied. “I think Baker got his body weight in fruitcake.”
“Fruitcake? What's he gonna do with that?” Donald snickered.
“Baker says eat it. Sorvino wants to lob it at the Saudis and see if it explodes,” Patterson shot back. Rolling his eyes, Donald turned back toward camp.
“Sorvino just likes to blow shit up,” Donald observed. “Though if he is going to fling unholy Christmas cakes at people, maybe he should fling it the other way. At least the Saudis don't shoot us.” Patterson hummed agreeably as he moved off along the patrol path. As he vanished over the dune, Donald broke into a trot. He needed to get back to camp, see what Kyle wanted and get a shower. In that order.
Donald smiled as the camp hove into view. Maybe he and Kyle would be able to slip away later and exchange a little Christmas spirit.
“Strachey!” Kyle shouted as Donald drew up in front of the command tent. Donald snapped off a salute.
“Sir!” Donald replied. Kyle tossed back a casual salute. He started walking towards his own tent, clearly expecting Donald to follow. Securing his rifle, Donald did. Kyle flipped open his tent flap and tipped his head.
“Come in, Strachey,” Kyle ordered. Donald ducked his head and stepped into the relative cool of the dim tent. Kyle bent over behind his make-shift desk and came up with a small box and a stack of envelopes.
“Mail call,” Kyle said, thumping the stack down on the desk. Donald reached for the pile, but Kyle kept his hand on it until he looked up. Kyle's eyes flicked down the the stack and back up again. Donald looked down. A post-it was stuck to the top mostly covered by Kyle's hand.
Three AM. Here.
Donald blinked and Kyle's hand fisted, crumpling the note.
“Get a shower and some food, Strachey. It's been a long day. I think Baker has some Christmas cookies, too,” Kyle ordered. Donald scooped the pile into his hand.
“Yes sir,” Donald replied. He turned on his heel and marched out. Bypassing the shower completely, Donald slipped into his tent and flipped through the stack. A Christmas card from his mother and one from Donna were tossed aside for later perusal. A thick envelope with spidery writing promised a lengthy letter from his grandmother. Smiling, Donald lifted it to his nose. Yup. Rosewater. That was definitely Grandma Alfia. He flipped it onto his cot with the other two.
A plain envelope with no postmark caught his attention. The flap wasn't sealed. Curious, Donald shook it. It rattled softly. Opening the envelope, Donald found a card. He tugged it free and opened it. Tucked inside was a four by six picture and Donald's breath caught.
In the picture, Donald was grinning at the camera, his hat pulled low, gun pointed up. Kyle slouched against him with an arm braced on Donald's shoulder. Baker took it, if Donald remembered correctly. He slid the picture free and turned his attention to the card.
On the front was a photo of a pine tree and the inside said Merry Christmas, printed in curly gold script. Beneath it, a firm hand had written Love. It was unsigned. Donald smiled so hard his face hurt. He tucked the picture back in the card and the card in the envelope. He couldn't resist stroking the plain white paper just once before he slid it into his pack. Wouldn't do to lose it. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Donald took a breath. Now, he had things to do. Donald dug his toiletries kit from his pack and snagged his towel. He needed a shower and dinner.
He had an appointment to keep and a present of his own to give.
=+++=
1980 (A Baby Just Like You)
1982 (White Christmas Makes Me Blue)
1992 (Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas)
1998 (God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen)
1999 (I Wonder as I Wander)
2000 (Frosty the Snowman)
2002 (Coventry Carol)
2004 (Walking in a Winter Wonderland)
2005 (Holly, Jolly Christmas)
2006 (Do You Hear What I Hear?)
2009 (All I Want for Christmas is You)
2047 (Aspenglow)
Title: The Old Familiar Carols Play
Pairings: Donald/Timmy
Rating: various, with one NC-17 chapter
Spoilers: minor ones for most of the movies
Summary: Some Christmases are more memorable than others.
Warning: A crazy rainbow of emotions.
Author’s Note: I covered as many of the prompts as I could when writing this. If I left yours out, either thematically or musically, I do apologize. I could only fit in twelve chapters. Thanks guys! As always, thanks to my wonderful betas mjmcca and nyteflyer .
All Others Doth Deface
God rest ye merry, gentlemen. Let nothing you dismay.
Donald shifted his rifle a bit higher and sighed. Then sneezed. Damned sand.
“I swear to God, Strachey, you must be allergic to sand,” a voice spoke from behind him.
“Well, if I am I'm in the wrong business, huh, Patterson?” Donald replied, squinting toward the setting sun. Patterson chuckled softly as he stepped up next to Donald. He scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Hell, we're all in the wrong business,” Patterson said. “Christ, it's hot. That's just so wrong.”
“Yeah, well, it's a living,” Donald said. Sweat rolled down the side of his neck, leaving itchy trails behind. “Besides, it'll cool down after sunset.”
“La-dee-freakin'-da. Then I'll be sandy, clammy and itchy. Happy goddamned holidays,” Patterson sighed. Laughing aloud, Donald clapped a hand to Patterson's shoulder.
“It's just patrol, man,” Donald said.
“Yeah, it could be mortars,” Patterson agreed, though he returned the chuckle. “Anyway, you're done and Lieu wants to see you.”
“Any idea why?” Donald asked, swinging his rifle up to point at the sky. Patterson shrugged a shoulder.
“Probably mail call. We're all gettin' Christmas shit,” Patterson replied. “I think Baker got his body weight in fruitcake.”
“Fruitcake? What's he gonna do with that?” Donald snickered.
“Baker says eat it. Sorvino wants to lob it at the Saudis and see if it explodes,” Patterson shot back. Rolling his eyes, Donald turned back toward camp.
“Sorvino just likes to blow shit up,” Donald observed. “Though if he is going to fling unholy Christmas cakes at people, maybe he should fling it the other way. At least the Saudis don't shoot us.” Patterson hummed agreeably as he moved off along the patrol path. As he vanished over the dune, Donald broke into a trot. He needed to get back to camp, see what Kyle wanted and get a shower. In that order.
Donald smiled as the camp hove into view. Maybe he and Kyle would be able to slip away later and exchange a little Christmas spirit.
“Strachey!” Kyle shouted as Donald drew up in front of the command tent. Donald snapped off a salute.
“Sir!” Donald replied. Kyle tossed back a casual salute. He started walking towards his own tent, clearly expecting Donald to follow. Securing his rifle, Donald did. Kyle flipped open his tent flap and tipped his head.
“Come in, Strachey,” Kyle ordered. Donald ducked his head and stepped into the relative cool of the dim tent. Kyle bent over behind his make-shift desk and came up with a small box and a stack of envelopes.
“Mail call,” Kyle said, thumping the stack down on the desk. Donald reached for the pile, but Kyle kept his hand on it until he looked up. Kyle's eyes flicked down the the stack and back up again. Donald looked down. A post-it was stuck to the top mostly covered by Kyle's hand.
Three AM. Here.
Donald blinked and Kyle's hand fisted, crumpling the note.
“Get a shower and some food, Strachey. It's been a long day. I think Baker has some Christmas cookies, too,” Kyle ordered. Donald scooped the pile into his hand.
“Yes sir,” Donald replied. He turned on his heel and marched out. Bypassing the shower completely, Donald slipped into his tent and flipped through the stack. A Christmas card from his mother and one from Donna were tossed aside for later perusal. A thick envelope with spidery writing promised a lengthy letter from his grandmother. Smiling, Donald lifted it to his nose. Yup. Rosewater. That was definitely Grandma Alfia. He flipped it onto his cot with the other two.
A plain envelope with no postmark caught his attention. The flap wasn't sealed. Curious, Donald shook it. It rattled softly. Opening the envelope, Donald found a card. He tugged it free and opened it. Tucked inside was a four by six picture and Donald's breath caught.
In the picture, Donald was grinning at the camera, his hat pulled low, gun pointed up. Kyle slouched against him with an arm braced on Donald's shoulder. Baker took it, if Donald remembered correctly. He slid the picture free and turned his attention to the card.
On the front was a photo of a pine tree and the inside said Merry Christmas, printed in curly gold script. Beneath it, a firm hand had written Love. It was unsigned. Donald smiled so hard his face hurt. He tucked the picture back in the card and the card in the envelope. He couldn't resist stroking the plain white paper just once before he slid it into his pack. Wouldn't do to lose it. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Donald took a breath. Now, he had things to do. Donald dug his toiletries kit from his pack and snagged his towel. He needed a shower and dinner.
He had an appointment to keep and a present of his own to give.
=+++=
1980 (A Baby Just Like You)
1982 (White Christmas Makes Me Blue)
1992 (Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas)
1998 (God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen)
1999 (I Wonder as I Wander)
2000 (Frosty the Snowman)
2002 (Coventry Carol)
2004 (Walking in a Winter Wonderland)
2005 (Holly, Jolly Christmas)
2006 (Do You Hear What I Hear?)
2009 (All I Want for Christmas is You)
2047 (Aspenglow)