FIC - The Old Familiar Carols Play (Part 9)
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 .
Oh by Golly
I don't know if there'll be snow, but have a cup of cheer.
Donald pushed the front door open and stepped into a wall of light, noise and the heady smell of cookies. He shrugged out of his coat and very carefully left his boots on the entry rug. Timmy would kill him if he tracked slush onto the hardwood.
“Honey, I'm home,” Donald called down the hallway. Timmy appeared next him so abruptly that Donald startled.
“Oh, thank God. You're here,” Timmy blurted. Donald raised an eyebrow.
“It's nice to see you too, Timmy,” Donald said, amused. He leaned in for a kiss. Timmy returned it distractedly before pulling away. He clutched at Donald's arms.
“You have to stop her, Donald,” Timmy informed him seriously. “This is getting out of hand.”
“Stop who? What's going on? Also, who's baking because I smell gingerbread,” Donald replied. With an exasperated sigh, Timmy grabbed Donald's arm and started dragging him down the hallway.
“Millie! She's out of control!” Timmy exclaimed. He waved a hand at the living room.
“I told you, Tim. You have to watch her. As soon as she gets into the cooking sherry there's nothing to be done but sit and wait for her to run down,” Randall drawled from his place on the couch. He was firmly ensconced with a glass of what looked like scotch in one hand and his feet up on the coffee table. “Hey Don.”
“Evening, Randall,” Donald replied. He could hear Millie singing from somewhere in the house. “This is . . . festive.” The living room looked like a box of glitter had exploded in it. Garlands dripped from the mantle and the windows. Lights were strung along the edges of all the doorways. Tiny nativities rested on almost every flat surface, indiscriminately paired with nutcrackers, tiny Santas and a handful of snowmen. The tree groaned under the weight of the ornaments, and poor Randall looked like he'd been fatally wounded by holiday shrapnel, wearing a red sweater with a light up Rudolph on the front.
“Festive?” Timmy demanded. “Festive! Donald! She's talking about adding another tree in our bedroom! For that 'intimate Christmas morning'!” Donald blinked. Timmy shifted a little closer to clutch tightly at Donald's sleeve. “She wants to use strings of condoms as garlands.” Donald pressed his lips together viciously against the laughter bubbling at the back of his throat. Timmy saw the effort on his face and glared.
“Condoms?” Donald managed finally, voice quivering.
“They come in red and green and gold,” Millie called as she sailed into the room bearing a tray of iced cookies. “I saw them. Though Tim won't tell me what sizes to buy, but a couple of the variety boxes would probably do. It's not like it would be a large tree, Tim.” Donald covered his mouth with one hand. Millie peered at him cheerfully.
“Hello, Millie,” Donald said, still smothering laughter.
“Merry Christmas, Donald. Have a cookie,” Millie replied. “I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me sizes?”
“Millicent!” Randall exclaimed. “That is none of your business. You leave those boys alone!” Rolling her eyes, Millie plopped the tray of cookies on the coffee table and shoved Randall's feet off of it.
“Oh pish-tosh,” Millie said with a dismissive hand wave. “It's a perfectly legitimate question. I know how gay sex works. Didn't I read that book?” Timmy lifted his eyes to Heaven beseechingly.
“Millie, just because you read The Joys of Gay Sex does not mean you know how gay sex works! You can't read a manual and then expect to fix a carburetor!” Randall protested.
“Well, why not?” Millie asked, honestly perplexed. “I mean, with the diagrams, I'd know where everything goes.”
“Oh sweet Mary,” Timmy moaned. He dropped into a seat and covered his face with his hands. Donald's ribs ached with the strain of not collapsing into laughter.
“Millie, Tim and I don't use condoms,” Donald forced out unsteadily. Without missing a beat, Timmy slapped him in the hip. Hard. Donald winced. Okay, he'd probably deserved that, but ow.
“Donald!” Timmy hissed, scandalized. Catching Timmy's hand, Donald clutched it to prevent a second swing.
“Now Timmy, there's no need for Millie to go buying all those condoms if we're not going to use them,” Donald pointed out. He bit his bottom lip as Timmy's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Don't use them?” Millie demanded, looking a bit scandalized herself. “Is that safe?” Donald made a sound like a balloon deflating before he managed to get his giggles under control. Timmy leaned his face against Donald's hip and moaned softly.
“Millie, we've been monogamous for five years now and we've both been thoroughly tested. It's safe,” Donald assured her. Randall drained his glass and reached for the bottle of scotch. He seemed to momentarily consider drinking straight from the bottle, but Millie shot him a look and he grudgingly poured himself a glass. Drank it. Poured another. Donald worried briefly that he might be carrying Randall home later.
“Well, that's all right then,” Millie decided as she turned back to the kitchen. “You can give them to your friends.”
“That's a heck of a stocking stuffer,” Randall muttered into his glass. Timmy's shoulders quivered under Donald's hand. He glanced down to find Timmy giggling silently into Donald's thigh. Donald tapped his head and raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
“Stocking stuffer,” Timmy murmured. Donald chuckled, relieved that Timmy seemed to be settling down.
“Oh look! Who's a pretty boy?” Millie said loudly. Donald glanced toward the kitchen door, almost afraid of what he'd find. Millie had Watson by the leash and was tugging the reluctant dog into the living room. Around his neck was an enormous plaid bow. “Isn't he a pretty boy?” She led him over for Donald's inspection. Watson gave Donald the most hang-dog look he'd ever seen.
“I've taken that thing off him three times,” Timmy sighed.
“Oh, Millie. That poor dog,” Randall said. Millie dropped the leash, fisting her hands on her hips. Watson took advantage of her distraction to make a beeline for Donald's feet.
“Randall, really. You are such a party poop. It's just a bow!” Millie protested. Donald crouched and loosened the bow, slipping it over Watson's head. Watson licked his hand and scurried under Timmy's chair. He flopped down with a groan. Millie and Randall continued to bicker over the bow as Donald leaned forward to help himself to a cookie. He raised his eyebrows.
“These are good,” Donald said around a mouthful. Timmy grabbed Donald's wrist and brought the rest of the cookie up to take a bite.
“Oh, they are,” Timmy said, chewing blissfully. “I'll give her this. She bakes a mean Christmas cookie.” Donald grinned at him and pressed a firm kiss to Timmy's mouth. He licked his lips as he drew away - Timmy tasted of scotch and sugar.
“Hmm, good enough to forgive her the condom-tree?” Donald asked. Timmy rolled his eyes and huffed out a small laugh.
“Almost,” he replied. Donald kissed him again and Timmy leaned into his grip, humming contentedly. Distantly, Donald registered the whir-click of a camera before a blinding flash went off. Startled, Timmy jumped overbalancing Donald. He toppled gracelessly onto his ass. Watson surged out from under the chair snag the remains of Donald's cookie as it hit the floor. Timmy snickered as another flash went off.
“Millie!” Randall scolded. Dropping back onto his elbows, Donald met Timmy's eyes and laughed until he ran out of breath.
=+++=
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 .
Oh by Golly
I don't know if there'll be snow, but have a cup of cheer.
Donald pushed the front door open and stepped into a wall of light, noise and the heady smell of cookies. He shrugged out of his coat and very carefully left his boots on the entry rug. Timmy would kill him if he tracked slush onto the hardwood.
“Honey, I'm home,” Donald called down the hallway. Timmy appeared next him so abruptly that Donald startled.
“Oh, thank God. You're here,” Timmy blurted. Donald raised an eyebrow.
“It's nice to see you too, Timmy,” Donald said, amused. He leaned in for a kiss. Timmy returned it distractedly before pulling away. He clutched at Donald's arms.
“You have to stop her, Donald,” Timmy informed him seriously. “This is getting out of hand.”
“Stop who? What's going on? Also, who's baking because I smell gingerbread,” Donald replied. With an exasperated sigh, Timmy grabbed Donald's arm and started dragging him down the hallway.
“Millie! She's out of control!” Timmy exclaimed. He waved a hand at the living room.
“I told you, Tim. You have to watch her. As soon as she gets into the cooking sherry there's nothing to be done but sit and wait for her to run down,” Randall drawled from his place on the couch. He was firmly ensconced with a glass of what looked like scotch in one hand and his feet up on the coffee table. “Hey Don.”
“Evening, Randall,” Donald replied. He could hear Millie singing from somewhere in the house. “This is . . . festive.” The living room looked like a box of glitter had exploded in it. Garlands dripped from the mantle and the windows. Lights were strung along the edges of all the doorways. Tiny nativities rested on almost every flat surface, indiscriminately paired with nutcrackers, tiny Santas and a handful of snowmen. The tree groaned under the weight of the ornaments, and poor Randall looked like he'd been fatally wounded by holiday shrapnel, wearing a red sweater with a light up Rudolph on the front.
“Festive?” Timmy demanded. “Festive! Donald! She's talking about adding another tree in our bedroom! For that 'intimate Christmas morning'!” Donald blinked. Timmy shifted a little closer to clutch tightly at Donald's sleeve. “She wants to use strings of condoms as garlands.” Donald pressed his lips together viciously against the laughter bubbling at the back of his throat. Timmy saw the effort on his face and glared.
“Condoms?” Donald managed finally, voice quivering.
“They come in red and green and gold,” Millie called as she sailed into the room bearing a tray of iced cookies. “I saw them. Though Tim won't tell me what sizes to buy, but a couple of the variety boxes would probably do. It's not like it would be a large tree, Tim.” Donald covered his mouth with one hand. Millie peered at him cheerfully.
“Hello, Millie,” Donald said, still smothering laughter.
“Merry Christmas, Donald. Have a cookie,” Millie replied. “I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me sizes?”
“Millicent!” Randall exclaimed. “That is none of your business. You leave those boys alone!” Rolling her eyes, Millie plopped the tray of cookies on the coffee table and shoved Randall's feet off of it.
“Oh pish-tosh,” Millie said with a dismissive hand wave. “It's a perfectly legitimate question. I know how gay sex works. Didn't I read that book?” Timmy lifted his eyes to Heaven beseechingly.
“Millie, just because you read The Joys of Gay Sex does not mean you know how gay sex works! You can't read a manual and then expect to fix a carburetor!” Randall protested.
“Well, why not?” Millie asked, honestly perplexed. “I mean, with the diagrams, I'd know where everything goes.”
“Oh sweet Mary,” Timmy moaned. He dropped into a seat and covered his face with his hands. Donald's ribs ached with the strain of not collapsing into laughter.
“Millie, Tim and I don't use condoms,” Donald forced out unsteadily. Without missing a beat, Timmy slapped him in the hip. Hard. Donald winced. Okay, he'd probably deserved that, but ow.
“Donald!” Timmy hissed, scandalized. Catching Timmy's hand, Donald clutched it to prevent a second swing.
“Now Timmy, there's no need for Millie to go buying all those condoms if we're not going to use them,” Donald pointed out. He bit his bottom lip as Timmy's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Don't use them?” Millie demanded, looking a bit scandalized herself. “Is that safe?” Donald made a sound like a balloon deflating before he managed to get his giggles under control. Timmy leaned his face against Donald's hip and moaned softly.
“Millie, we've been monogamous for five years now and we've both been thoroughly tested. It's safe,” Donald assured her. Randall drained his glass and reached for the bottle of scotch. He seemed to momentarily consider drinking straight from the bottle, but Millie shot him a look and he grudgingly poured himself a glass. Drank it. Poured another. Donald worried briefly that he might be carrying Randall home later.
“Well, that's all right then,” Millie decided as she turned back to the kitchen. “You can give them to your friends.”
“That's a heck of a stocking stuffer,” Randall muttered into his glass. Timmy's shoulders quivered under Donald's hand. He glanced down to find Timmy giggling silently into Donald's thigh. Donald tapped his head and raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
“Stocking stuffer,” Timmy murmured. Donald chuckled, relieved that Timmy seemed to be settling down.
“Oh look! Who's a pretty boy?” Millie said loudly. Donald glanced toward the kitchen door, almost afraid of what he'd find. Millie had Watson by the leash and was tugging the reluctant dog into the living room. Around his neck was an enormous plaid bow. “Isn't he a pretty boy?” She led him over for Donald's inspection. Watson gave Donald the most hang-dog look he'd ever seen.
“I've taken that thing off him three times,” Timmy sighed.
“Oh, Millie. That poor dog,” Randall said. Millie dropped the leash, fisting her hands on her hips. Watson took advantage of her distraction to make a beeline for Donald's feet.
“Randall, really. You are such a party poop. It's just a bow!” Millie protested. Donald crouched and loosened the bow, slipping it over Watson's head. Watson licked his hand and scurried under Timmy's chair. He flopped down with a groan. Millie and Randall continued to bicker over the bow as Donald leaned forward to help himself to a cookie. He raised his eyebrows.
“These are good,” Donald said around a mouthful. Timmy grabbed Donald's wrist and brought the rest of the cookie up to take a bite.
“Oh, they are,” Timmy said, chewing blissfully. “I'll give her this. She bakes a mean Christmas cookie.” Donald grinned at him and pressed a firm kiss to Timmy's mouth. He licked his lips as he drew away - Timmy tasted of scotch and sugar.
“Hmm, good enough to forgive her the condom-tree?” Donald asked. Timmy rolled his eyes and huffed out a small laugh.
“Almost,” he replied. Donald kissed him again and Timmy leaned into his grip, humming contentedly. Distantly, Donald registered the whir-click of a camera before a blinding flash went off. Startled, Timmy jumped overbalancing Donald. He toppled gracelessly onto his ass. Watson surged out from under the chair snag the remains of Donald's cookie as it hit the floor. Timmy snickered as another flash went off.
“Millie!” Randall scolded. Dropping back onto his elbows, Donald met Timmy's eyes and laughed until he ran out of breath.
=+++=
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)