FIC - The Old Familiar Carols Play (Part 11)
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 .
Just One Thing
I just want you here tonight, holding on to me so tight.
Donald rubbed his eyes, tucking his contact lens case in his pocket. Squinting against the crowd of people bustling past the men's room, he looked around. Well, in the time it'd taken for Donald to remove his contacts, Timmy'd moved. Or evaporated. Because he was nowhere near where Donald had left him. Donald sighed. Carefully dodging a man with a rolling bag, two women on cell phones and a horde of children that seemed to have no owners in the immediate vicinity, Donald made his way back across to the gate. He paused at the edge of the seats and looked around again. Ah, there.
Timmy had relocated to a pair of seats in the far corner. He'd dragged their suitcases into a wobbly pile and was sitting with his feet up on them, hugging his laptop bag to his chest. Donald's duffel had been wedged between the arm of the chair and the wall. Timmy had tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
“Sitting guard?” Donald asked as he approached. Timmy opened his eyes wearily and shot Donald an eloquent glare. “You know where I stashed my glasses on the way out?”
“You didn't. You forgot them,” Timmy replied, raising his head enough to smirk. Donald flopped down in the empty seat with a groan. Still smirking, Timmy shifted his laptop to the floor and dropped his feet down. “Luckily, I love you and I check these things.”
“You packed them?” Donald asked, perking up a bit. Timmy hummed affirmatively as he opened his own suitcase and retrieved Donald's battered glasses case. Donald reached for it.
“Ah ah! Contacts, please,” Timmy said, pulling the case out of reach. “You remember what happened last time you had both in your possession.”
“I lose my glasses one time - years ago - and you never let me forget it,” Donald grumbled. He dug the contacts case from his pocket and plopped it in Timmy's waiting hand.
“You lost your glasses and your contacts and spent the first four days of our vacation with a headache from squinting until Loretta mailed your spares,” Timmy pointed out. He tucked the contacts into his suitcase, relinquishing the glasses gracefully. Donald settled them on his face as Timmy closed the suitcase. He leaned back and propped his feet up again.
“Did you find out anything about our flight?” Donald asked, swinging his feet up to claim a piece of the makeshift footrest.
“Just that it appears to be canceled. I transferred our tickets to a flight tomorrow morning,” Timmy replied. He poked Donald's ankle with his toes.
“What time?” Donald asked, nudging him in return.
“Seven-thirty,” Timmy said, yawning.
Donald glanced at his watch. “It's almost midnight, now,” he observed.
“Yes, Donald,” Timmy agreed.
“We're pretty much iced in,” Donald persisted.
“Yes, Donald.”
“And all the on-site hotels are probably booked solid by now.”
“Yes, Donald.”
“We're sleeping in the terminal, aren't we?”
“Yes, Donald.”
“Well, shit.”
“Donald, I cannot help the fact that we are stranded in Chicago O'Hare,” Timmy sighed, irritated. “I cannot help the fact that all the hotels are booked or that we're not going to make it to California by Christmas, and I cannot help the fact that you don't like it!”
“Easy, sweetheart,” Donald soothed. He pressed a kiss to the side of Timmy's head. “I'm not angry at you.”
“I know,” Timmy muttered. He leaned his head against Donald's and sighed again. “We're going to miss Christmas with Kelly.”
“We'll be there tomorrow morning,” Donald offered, smoothing his hand over Timmy's hair.
“I know, I know. It's just - we were supposed to be there this morning. And now everything's all wrong,” Timmy murmured. He scooted down a bit to rest his head on Donald's shoulder. Donald let his hand slide from Timmy's head to his shoulder and waited for Timmy to get to the heart of the problem.
“Kelly said she'd wait until we got there to open presents,” Timmy said finally.
“That's nice of her,” Donald offered. Closer, but not there yet.
“We always used to open them on Christmas Eve. Christmas day was for church and this huge family dinner and presents from friends and extended family, but the four of us - Mom and Dad and Kelly and me - we opened ours the night before. And I wanted to be there for that. I wanted to meet the new baby and watch Kelly and Adam open gifts,” Timmy explained quietly.
“You'll get to see them open ours,” Donald said, squeezing Timmy a little tighter.
“I know. I know it's stupid, Donald. But I lost so much time with Kelly and she grew up and got married and started a family of her own and I missed it. I don't want to be the extended family,” Timmy sighed. “I feel like an idiot.” Donald hummed agreeably, totally unsure how to react - how to even begin to offer sympathy.
“I can't even blame her,” Timmy continued eventually. “It's not like I didn't do the same thing. I got married and found my own family without her. I didn't put my life on hold. I just regret so much time lost, you know?”
“We'll get there, Timmy. If we have to rent a car and drive, we'll get there,” Donald said, swallowing past the sympathetic lump in his chest. Timmy abruptly pushed upright and grabbed Donald's face knocking his glasses askew.
“I don't regret you, Donald! Not ever, not for a second,” Timmy said, oddly frantic. “I wouldn't trade a day with you to have time with Kelly back. Not one day.”
“Timmy,” Donald chuckled. He paused to pry Timmy's hands from his face and fold them between his own. “I know, sweetheart. It's okay. I get what you're saying.”
Timmy relaxed back in his seat. “Okay then,” he said. He summoned up a shaky smile for Donald. “I'm so glad you're here. This would be so much worse without you here.”
“You just wish we were there,” Donald said.
“Yeah.”
Donald slipped his hands free and stood. Stepping over the pile of suitcases, he crouched and opened the top of his duffel to rummage around inside.
“What are you doing?” Timmy asked, leaning over the arm of his seat to watch. Donald shoved one arm down the side of the duffel and groped blindly along the bottom.
“I'm looking for something. I know I packed it in here, so where the Hell did it go? Ah!” Donald crowed in triumph. He weaseled a small box from the bottom of the duffel, unfolding most of the clothes in the bag as he pulled it free. He crammed the clothes back down and zipped the bag. Pushing to his feet, Donald returned to his chair.
“Merry Christmas, Timmy,” Donald said. He plunked the box on Timmy's lap.
Timmy stared at it, shocked. “Donald,” he started.
“Immediate family on Christmas Eve, right?” Donald interrupted.
“Right,” Timmy replied, cradling the package closer.
“Well, then, you'd better get busy. You've got -” Donald glanced at his watch “-seven minutes.”
Timmy fingered the mashed bow on top of the box thoughtfully; hefted the box to weigh it in his hand. He set the box back on his lap and turned to smile at Donald.
“Thank you, darling, it's wonderful,” Timmy said.
“You haven't even opened it, yet,” Donald pointed out, amused. Timmy rolled his eyes and kissed Donald firmly.
“I love you, Donald. Thank you,” Timmy repeated. Donald grinned a bit wider.
“I love you, too, Timmy. Now, would you open the damned box? The suspense is killing me, here.”
Timmy laughed, bright and clear. “All right, all right. Mr. Impatience,” he said. And opened the box.
=+++=
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 .
Just One Thing
I just want you here tonight, holding on to me so tight.
Donald rubbed his eyes, tucking his contact lens case in his pocket. Squinting against the crowd of people bustling past the men's room, he looked around. Well, in the time it'd taken for Donald to remove his contacts, Timmy'd moved. Or evaporated. Because he was nowhere near where Donald had left him. Donald sighed. Carefully dodging a man with a rolling bag, two women on cell phones and a horde of children that seemed to have no owners in the immediate vicinity, Donald made his way back across to the gate. He paused at the edge of the seats and looked around again. Ah, there.
Timmy had relocated to a pair of seats in the far corner. He'd dragged their suitcases into a wobbly pile and was sitting with his feet up on them, hugging his laptop bag to his chest. Donald's duffel had been wedged between the arm of the chair and the wall. Timmy had tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
“Sitting guard?” Donald asked as he approached. Timmy opened his eyes wearily and shot Donald an eloquent glare. “You know where I stashed my glasses on the way out?”
“You didn't. You forgot them,” Timmy replied, raising his head enough to smirk. Donald flopped down in the empty seat with a groan. Still smirking, Timmy shifted his laptop to the floor and dropped his feet down. “Luckily, I love you and I check these things.”
“You packed them?” Donald asked, perking up a bit. Timmy hummed affirmatively as he opened his own suitcase and retrieved Donald's battered glasses case. Donald reached for it.
“Ah ah! Contacts, please,” Timmy said, pulling the case out of reach. “You remember what happened last time you had both in your possession.”
“I lose my glasses one time - years ago - and you never let me forget it,” Donald grumbled. He dug the contacts case from his pocket and plopped it in Timmy's waiting hand.
“You lost your glasses and your contacts and spent the first four days of our vacation with a headache from squinting until Loretta mailed your spares,” Timmy pointed out. He tucked the contacts into his suitcase, relinquishing the glasses gracefully. Donald settled them on his face as Timmy closed the suitcase. He leaned back and propped his feet up again.
“Did you find out anything about our flight?” Donald asked, swinging his feet up to claim a piece of the makeshift footrest.
“Just that it appears to be canceled. I transferred our tickets to a flight tomorrow morning,” Timmy replied. He poked Donald's ankle with his toes.
“What time?” Donald asked, nudging him in return.
“Seven-thirty,” Timmy said, yawning.
Donald glanced at his watch. “It's almost midnight, now,” he observed.
“Yes, Donald,” Timmy agreed.
“We're pretty much iced in,” Donald persisted.
“Yes, Donald.”
“And all the on-site hotels are probably booked solid by now.”
“Yes, Donald.”
“We're sleeping in the terminal, aren't we?”
“Yes, Donald.”
“Well, shit.”
“Donald, I cannot help the fact that we are stranded in Chicago O'Hare,” Timmy sighed, irritated. “I cannot help the fact that all the hotels are booked or that we're not going to make it to California by Christmas, and I cannot help the fact that you don't like it!”
“Easy, sweetheart,” Donald soothed. He pressed a kiss to the side of Timmy's head. “I'm not angry at you.”
“I know,” Timmy muttered. He leaned his head against Donald's and sighed again. “We're going to miss Christmas with Kelly.”
“We'll be there tomorrow morning,” Donald offered, smoothing his hand over Timmy's hair.
“I know, I know. It's just - we were supposed to be there this morning. And now everything's all wrong,” Timmy murmured. He scooted down a bit to rest his head on Donald's shoulder. Donald let his hand slide from Timmy's head to his shoulder and waited for Timmy to get to the heart of the problem.
“Kelly said she'd wait until we got there to open presents,” Timmy said finally.
“That's nice of her,” Donald offered. Closer, but not there yet.
“We always used to open them on Christmas Eve. Christmas day was for church and this huge family dinner and presents from friends and extended family, but the four of us - Mom and Dad and Kelly and me - we opened ours the night before. And I wanted to be there for that. I wanted to meet the new baby and watch Kelly and Adam open gifts,” Timmy explained quietly.
“You'll get to see them open ours,” Donald said, squeezing Timmy a little tighter.
“I know. I know it's stupid, Donald. But I lost so much time with Kelly and she grew up and got married and started a family of her own and I missed it. I don't want to be the extended family,” Timmy sighed. “I feel like an idiot.” Donald hummed agreeably, totally unsure how to react - how to even begin to offer sympathy.
“I can't even blame her,” Timmy continued eventually. “It's not like I didn't do the same thing. I got married and found my own family without her. I didn't put my life on hold. I just regret so much time lost, you know?”
“We'll get there, Timmy. If we have to rent a car and drive, we'll get there,” Donald said, swallowing past the sympathetic lump in his chest. Timmy abruptly pushed upright and grabbed Donald's face knocking his glasses askew.
“I don't regret you, Donald! Not ever, not for a second,” Timmy said, oddly frantic. “I wouldn't trade a day with you to have time with Kelly back. Not one day.”
“Timmy,” Donald chuckled. He paused to pry Timmy's hands from his face and fold them between his own. “I know, sweetheart. It's okay. I get what you're saying.”
Timmy relaxed back in his seat. “Okay then,” he said. He summoned up a shaky smile for Donald. “I'm so glad you're here. This would be so much worse without you here.”
“You just wish we were there,” Donald said.
“Yeah.”
Donald slipped his hands free and stood. Stepping over the pile of suitcases, he crouched and opened the top of his duffel to rummage around inside.
“What are you doing?” Timmy asked, leaning over the arm of his seat to watch. Donald shoved one arm down the side of the duffel and groped blindly along the bottom.
“I'm looking for something. I know I packed it in here, so where the Hell did it go? Ah!” Donald crowed in triumph. He weaseled a small box from the bottom of the duffel, unfolding most of the clothes in the bag as he pulled it free. He crammed the clothes back down and zipped the bag. Pushing to his feet, Donald returned to his chair.
“Merry Christmas, Timmy,” Donald said. He plunked the box on Timmy's lap.
Timmy stared at it, shocked. “Donald,” he started.
“Immediate family on Christmas Eve, right?” Donald interrupted.
“Right,” Timmy replied, cradling the package closer.
“Well, then, you'd better get busy. You've got -” Donald glanced at his watch “-seven minutes.”
Timmy fingered the mashed bow on top of the box thoughtfully; hefted the box to weigh it in his hand. He set the box back on his lap and turned to smile at Donald.
“Thank you, darling, it's wonderful,” Timmy said.
“You haven't even opened it, yet,” Donald pointed out, amused. Timmy rolled his eyes and kissed Donald firmly.
“I love you, Donald. Thank you,” Timmy repeated. Donald grinned a bit wider.
“I love you, too, Timmy. Now, would you open the damned box? The suspense is killing me, here.”
Timmy laughed, bright and clear. “All right, all right. Mr. Impatience,” he said. And opened the box.
=+++=
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)