Title: All's Fair in Love and Politics
Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries (movieverse)
Pairing: Donald and Timothy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5059

References/Spoilers: Can't think of any
Disclosure: I wish they were mine. Alas, they are not, so I'm just taking them out for a spin with thanks to the men who created them and the actors who brought them to life.
Summary: As emotions run high surrounding the vote on gay marriage in New York, the tension leads Donald and Timothy into a lover's quarrel...and a reaffirmation of their love.

Author's Note: When I heard about the vote taking place in the State Senate, in Albany, on gay marriage in New York, I couldn't help but wonder how it would all impact our boys. This story is the result.

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ALL'S FAIR IN LOVE AND POLITICS

by

Candy Apple

Don sorted his mail as he trudged up the steps toward his office. An all-night stakeout had not only been fruitless, but the cause of one of the rare unpleasant arguments he'd had with Timmy in recent memory. With today being the big day for the vote on gay marriage in New York, the gay rights group Timothy belonged to had spent the previous night conducting one last push for calls to congressmen, peaceful demonstrations, and other eleventh hour tactics to support the bill. Technically, they both belonged to the group, but Timmy definitely attended more meetings, spear-headed various projects, and more often than not was their spokesperson in the Albany area when it came to any political and public policy issues. Donald had spent his night staking out a hotel, watching for some businessman to play slap-and-tickle with his secretary in some visible way he could capture on film, a decision which didn't sit well with his partner.

"Donald, this is our future. And it's not just in New York. What happens here tomorrow could influence other states considering similar legislation. We could get married, legally," Timmy had concluded, with all the passion that usually tinged his speech when he felt strongly about things.

"We already are married. We have all the other supporting paperwork. We have a mortgage, bank accounts, investments, bills together. We even get junk mail addressed to Mr. & Mrs. Timothy Callahan," he'd added, hoping it would amuse Timothy. It hadn't.

"It's one night of your life, Donald. One night. We're making phone calls, part of the group is planning a peaceful presence around the capitol building to show support - - we need bodies, people on the phones, people with signs. You only attended one meeting about this with me, and that was months ago."

"Honey, whether or not I show up at a protest tonight isn't going to turn the tide with this. At this stage of the game, it'll pass or it won't."

"Thank God the founding fathers didn't take that attitude, or we'd be sipping tea under a British flag right now."

"You're being overly dramatic now," Donald had snapped, irritated, maybe because he knew he should stand by his partner on something that was this important to him - - hell, to the whole gay community. At the same time, his client was loaded, and she was prepared to keep shoveling copious gobs of cash in his direction, provided he danced to her tune. She was convinced her husband was cheating, and it didn't bother her when Donald turned in bills for thousands of dollars, plus expenses, even when he wasn't finding anything. Either the guy was faithful, or he was the craftiest philanderer Don had ever tracked.

In any event, even if his client was delusional about her husband, she was a cash cow he couldn't afford to piss off. And the truth of the matter was, whatever was going to happen, was going to happen with the bill. It was too late now to make any substantial difference. Even if he could make a difference, something stuck in his throat about groveling, hat in hand, to a bunch of legislators to ask them for the right to love Timothy, or devote his life to him. As if he would wait for anyone's permission to do that.

"You really don't care, do you?" Timothy asked, and this time, his voice wasn't as steady, and Don thought he saw just a little too much moisture in his eyes.

"Of course, I care. I'm just realistic. You've been working on this tirelessly for months, the whole group has. This is one night. It seems like a big deal because it's the eve of the vote, but don't you think all the work and planning you've already done is what will carry it, not some eleventh hour phone call you make now?"

"I thought it would mean something to you for our marriage to be legal."

"Do you think I'll feel any more married to you with a piece of paper and a blood test than I did the moment I slipped that ring on your finger? I committed the rest of my life to you that day, Timmy. Maybe the question here is whether or not our marriage means enough to you without it being legal. I don't need the State of New York to tell me to stay with you. I love you, and I committed to that of my own free will, and I'll remain committed to it because I love you, not because there's a slip of paper with our names on it that says I have to unless I get a good lawyer."

"It's one night out of your life, Donald. This means a lot to me, even if it doesn't mean anything to you."

"I never said it didn't mean anything. I just said that we're already married, and the whole fucking world is more than welcome to take a vote on it, but it's none of their goddamned business and it won't change anything. Meanwhile, I have a client who is lining our pockets nicely so we can afford to spruce up the back yard this spring, pay off some bills, and maybe even think about the in-ground pool we keep fantasizing about."

"Fine." Tim shrugged into his coat and headed for the door.

"Timothy, come on," Don said, following him.

"That's right. 'Timothy, come on.' Do you even keep count of how many times I have to go some social function alone, or not at all, because of your schedule? How many times our plans change, how many times I wait up for you and you never come home until some absurd hour so I end up falling asleep on the couch waiting for you?"

"You knew what my job was, and how my schedule was, before we ever got married, so why throw it in my face now?"

"Because this is one time that I needed you to pick me over your job!" he shot back, storming out the door.

Donald had stood there a few moments, dumbfounded. Then he got angry. If Timothy seriously thought for one moment there was a contest between him and anything else that Don had or did, he was nuts, and he hadn't been paying attention over the last several years. Figuring his partner would get over it, cool off, be happy as soon as the bill passed, Don shook his head, still a bit irritated by the whole thing, and set off for his evening stakeout.

Which had blended into a morning stakeout. Finally, the guy he was tailing had come out of the hotel, alone, with a briefcase and an overnight bag. If he was screwing his secretary, she was either in the overnight bag, or had slipped out another exit. Even with Kenny moving about the hotel watching for her, and Don watching the exterior, there was no sign of her.

It was after noon, and his stomach rumbled ominously. Maybe taking Timothy to lunch would smooth his ruffled feathers a bit, or even better - maybe a little afternoon delight if they could find time to slip home. Maybe he'd even spring for a room at one of the fancy hotels he was always sitting outside of. Really sweep Timmy off his feet, buy him some flowers, remind him just how much he was loved, and of the fact that love didn't need the state legislature's permission to be as hot, as complete, and as enduring as it was.

With a spring in his step at that idea, he unlocked the office door and went inside, closing and locking it behind him. He'd given Kenny the afternoon off, since they'd been up all night, so he was the only one there. And if he planned to surprise his partner with a little romantic attention, he didn't want to be stopped by any walk-in business.

Maybe Timothy was right. Maybe Donald hadn't been choosing him over his job very often lately.

After making lunch reservations at the hotel dining room and room reservations at the same time, Don picked up the phone to call his partner.

"Hey," came Tim's reply, lackluster. Don knew he had some work to do.

"Hi, beautiful. Any chance I can steal you away from there for the afternoon?"

"I'm waiting for the vote. I don't want to leave until I know."

"Maybe I could come over and wait with you?" Don suggested, figuring his main goal was to make up with Timmy, and his plans could wait.

"What about your client?"

"The stakeout was a wash, so there's nothing more for me to do on that today." Don paused. "Honey, I'm sorry if I made you feel like I didn't care about the vote. I do. I guess it's just that I love you, and nothing could make me feel more married to you than I already do. Maybe it just pisses me off that our right to be married is even up for debate. Shit, sometimes I'm just tired of the whole fucking thing being an issue."

"I'm sorry I gave you a hard time about your job. You're right, it's no surprise, you working nights...and you know I understand. I was stressed out about the vote. I kind of took it out on you."

"Yeah, well...I'm sorry, too. You know how much I love you, right?"

"Yes," Tim replied, and there was a hint of a smile in his voice. Progress.

"You know I won't love you more or less depending on which way this vote goes, right?"

"I know."

"Have you eaten yet?"

"No."

"I'll bring takeout, and we can wait for the results. Then I have a little surprise for you."

"What kind of surprise?"

"A romantic surprise. That's all you're getting out of me."

Half an hour later, Don was making his way up to Tim's office, takeout in one hand, a big bouquet of assorted, brightly colored flowers in the other. When he walked in the door of the office, Tim's somber expression immediately lit up with a big grin. Don closed the door and presented his partner with the flowers.

"I really am sorry, honey," he said, kissing Timmy's mouth lightly, trying to refrain from the passionate tonsil-licking he wanted to give him since they were in his office. Arguing with Timothy never set well with Donald, and he didn't feel right about things again until he'd fixed whatever it was they were at loggerheads about.

"So am I." He paused. "Please don't ever think our marriage means less to me than it would if it were recognized legally. I just want us to have that right, that's all."

"I know. I do, too. I want everyone to have that right. Mostly, I'd just like the government to get out of our bedroom."

"Maybe someday." Tim sat at his desk, and Don pulled up a chair so they could share their lunch. "The flowers are really beautiful. They're a nice surprise."

"They're not the surprise." Don licked a little sweet and sour sauce off his finger as he opened the Chinese food containers.

"You didn't have to get me anything.

"Look, Timmy, I just want you to be real clear on something," he said, taking one of Tim's hands in both of his. "You're the most important thing in the world to me, and I know how hard you've worked on supporting this bill. I should have been with you last night, whether it made a difference how the vote turns out or not. It made a difference to you for me to be there."

"You were right, you know. The things we were doing last night were for us, to stay sane in the final hours, not for the bill. This is so...big, and the waiting is just hard."

"If it doesn't pass, you know you did everything you could, right?"

"I know."

"And you know that I'll be with you, loving you, wearing your ring, until I take my last breath, whether the government gives me permission or not, right?"

"You've never been one to wait for anyone's permission to do much of anything, so yes, I know," Timmy said with an affectionate smile.

They dug into the Chinese food, though not as heartily as they usually did. The impending decision of the State Senate sat with them like an evil genie in the corner. A little tap on the door startled them both. A moment later, Senator Platt stuck her head in the door.

"Don, this is a surprise," she said, smiling.

"Just here to sit the vigil with Timothy. We have extra egg rolls," Don replied, holding up the little wax bag as an invitation.

"I actually am starving, I'd love one," she said, setting her briefcase by the door and pulling up the other visitor's chair. After she'd had a bite, she and Tim exchanged a knowing glance.

"The vote's over," he said. "And you didn't exactly have a dance in your step when you came in."

"I'm sorry, Tim. There's no easy way to say it. We lost."

"Shit," Donald muttered, knowing it wasn't really an eloquent response, but it was his first gut reaction. Shit on the politicians, the religious fanatics, the assholes who go home to their legal spouses, half of them either cheating on each other or not in love anymore, who have the gall to pass judgment on Timothy and me, to deny us the right to legalize our commitment to each other because there's an extra dick between us.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," the senator added, taking another bite of the egg roll.

"We felt so good about things going into this," Tim said.

"A few people were absent we were expecting to be there, and we lost a couple people we thought were on our side. There's a lot of pressure from their constituencies. It shouldn't be such a divisive issue, but it is."

"It shouldn't be an issue at all," Donald said quietly, poking at the food in his container with his plastic fork, suddenly not all that hungry.

"What was the margin?" Tim asked.

"Thirty-eight to twenty-four. It was worse than we expected."

"What's next?" Tim didn't react to the numbers, but Don could see in his eyes, in the stiffening of his spine, how upset he was.

"We can start working to get it on the ballot for a popular vote, but what happened today doesn't bode well for the results. I think we have more work to do. More grassroots campaigning. We need to change some minds." She shrugged. "Maybe it's more that we need to change some hearts. Change some perceptions. I have a good friend who is a lobbyist in Massachusetts. I'm going to give her a call tomorrow, see if we can do some brainstorming."

"I'd like to be part of that conversation, if it's all right with you, Senator," Tim said.

"Of course. We can do a conference call." She wiped her hands on a napkin. "Thank you for the egg roll. I'm on my way out to another appointment, and I missed lunch."

"You're welcome," Don said. "Thanks for telling us in person."

"We're not done, not by a long shot. This is as setback, not a defeat, just keep that in mind."

"I know," Tim said, nodding, forcing a little smile. Senator Platt returned it, though it held the same trace of sadness in it that Tim's did. She pulled the door shut behind her as she left.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Don said softly, moving his chair closer to Timmy's, taking his hand.

"I thought we were closer than that," he said, and Don could hear the struggle in his voice to keep it steady.

"It'll happen, honey. Just not yet," Don added, kissing the back of the hand he was holding.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, pressing his free hand against his mouth, trying to control his emotions. Tears rolled down his cheeks. In that moment, Donald wanted to hunt down each one of those thirty-eight legislators and beat the crap out of them. He knew he should be lamenting the blow this was to human rights, but at that moment, it was too intensely personal. Someone had hurt Timothy and there was nothing he could do about it. Timmy was strong and resilient, and he rarely saw him cry. On those few occasions when he did, his tears were like drops of acid falling on Donald's soul.

"C'mere, honey. It's okay." He guided Timmy's head to his shoulder, and put his arms around him. "I wish I could fix this for you, Timmy." Timmy didn't reply, he just let Donald comfort him. "I know I can't change what happened, but I do still have a surprise for you. Might cheer you up a bit."

"You always cheer me up," he said, pulling back a little, taking off his glasses. Don grabbed a napkin and took over the job of wiping his lover's eyes.

"You think Senator Platt would be upset if I kidnapped you for the rest of the afternoon?"

"I think she'd let me off the hook this time," he replied, smiling. "You really don't have to do anything else, Donald. I'm not angry about last night. I'm not angry at you at all. Maybe I never was to begin with. The stress was getting to me, I think."

"I know I don't have to do anything. I want to romance my beautiful partner a little."

********

Timothy was stunned as they pulled up to the hotel, one of the finest in Albany. A valet managed to mask his disdain at parking Donald's car. After all, even if their coach was a bit of a pumpkin, they were hotel guests and entitled to the full treatment. Tim seemed even more surprised that Donald had packed an overnight bag for them, which he retrieved from the car before the valet took it.

When they approached the desk, Donald took special pleasure in claiming their reservation.

"Reservation for Strachey. We have the honeymoon suite." He said the last words looking at Timothy with what could only be described as naked adoration. If the desk clerk was surprised at seeing two men there to claim it, she covered it well. After checking them in, she handed them the room key cards and wished them a pleasant stay.

"The honeymoon suite? Here? Donald, that's probably more expensive than our whole honeymoon."

"Just relax and enjoy it, sweetheart. I think tonight's a perfect time to celebrate our marriage and our life together. Nobody's going to stand in the way of that. Not ever," Donald added, punching the button on the elevator. He imagined it being the watery eye of some self-righteous old senator who had the unmitigated nerve to try to stand in the way of the kind of happiness they shared.

The honeymoon suite was all Donald hoped it would be. With its elegantly appointed sitting room, huge bedroom featuring a king sized bed adorned in white silk linens, the champagne chilling in a bucket nearby, and the bathroom with its huge, heart-shaped jacuzzi tub, it was all any newlywed couple could hope for.

While Timmy wandered about the suite, slightly slack-jawed at the opulence, Donald calmly poured two glasses of champagne, handing one to his partner.

"To us, and our life together, and our marriage, that no lawmakers can touch."

They clinked the glasses together, and each took a sip.

"It's been seven years and I'm as excited to be here with you, now, as I was to be with you on our wedding night," Tim said, smiling, tears in his eyes for a good reason now. "I love you, Donald, and I love our life together."

"I think we need a little atmosphere," Donald said, grinning, going to his overnight bag and pulling out some fat white candles. "There are a few candles in here, but not nearly enough. My husband likes to make love by candlelight," he added, winking at Timmy, who couldn't help but catch his contagious enthusiasm.

"We should have a few in the bathroom, around the tub," he said, getting in the spirit.

"Maybe you can get those going while I start a little music," he said, pulling his iPod out of the bag. "Their radio is supposed to have a hookup for this. I've got some good music."

"You threw all this together this afternoon?"

"I was motivated," Donald said. "I felt like an ass for not being with you last night."

"We've been over that, honey. I'm not angry about that anymore."

"I know. I'm still a little pissed at myself, okay? I hate arguing with you about anything, and I wasn't there for you when you needed me."

"There's one way you can make it up to me."

"Name it."

"Stop beating yourself up over it. You've done a better job than I ever could have of making yourself feel guilty."

"I think I can do that."

"Good, because there are other things I want you to focus on tonight." Timmy approached him, and pushed his suit coat off his shoulders. Then he started undoing Donald's tie.

"What about the candles and the music and - -"

"We've got all night," Tim said, tossing Donald's tie aside. He started unbuttoning Donald's shirt, kissing his neck and his throat, cooperating when Donald pushed at his suit coat, helping to get rid of his own tie, sending it to join the other one discarded on the floor.

Donald relished the smile on Timmy's face while he divested him of his shirt and undershirt, a little impatient while Donald fought for equal time to get Timmy's clothes out of his way. He could participate, but it was clear who was taking the lead, and that was fine with Donald. If out of all the opulence and romancing he was offering, what Timothy wanted the most was Donald, naked, he was more than willing to oblige.

Timmy distracted him with kisses, eager contacts of lips and tongue, his hands slipping down to Donald's belt, deftly unbuckling it and unfastening his pants, sending them and his boxers to the floor with unsettling skill and dexterity. In each other's arms now, Donald struggled to get his shoes off, and as his feet got tangled in his pants, he fell backwards, pulling Timmy with him, hoping the bed was as close to them as he thought. With an oomph of expelled breath, he landed, with Timmy on top of him, laughing with the joy and happiness in the sound that dispelled the echoes in Donald's memory of the tears and pain of a short time earlier.

Still chuckling, Timmy moved away for a moment and pulled Donald's shoes, socks and tangled pants off, giving Donald time to sit up and seize the moment to start unfastening Timmy's pants, tugging them and his boxers down, taking that large, slightly erect cock into his mouth, making Timmy gasp and lean on Donald's shoulders.

"Oh my God, Donald," he gasped, touching Donald's hair, his other hand tightening a little on his shoulder. Donald slid his hands up and down the smooth skin of Timmy's hips, and around to his ass. "Stop," he managed, breathless. "I want to be inside you," he said, pulling Donald up and kissing him. Then he wrapped his arms around Donald and tipped them both back on the bed, where they rolled together on the satin bedspread.

Timmy paused a moment to take off his glasses, leaning across Donald to set them on the night stand. That brought his nipple close to Donald's mouth, and he couldn't resist the temptation. His tongue sought the little nub and licked it, his mouth fastening on it gently, sucking.

"Sneak attack," Timmy gasped, laughing.

"Don't expect me to ignore one of those gorgeous little tits of yours," Donald mumbled against Timmy's chest, as he kissed his way toward the other nipple. As he paid careful attention to the second one, he rolled them over so he was on top again. He took his time on Timmy's chest, savoring his lover's skin as if it were the most exotic taste in the world, completely unhurried in mapping every inch with his lips and tongue, moving down toward Timmy's navel, nipping at the edges.

Groping for his bag of supplies, he located the lube and squeezed some on his finger, giving Timmy a devilish grin. He began stroking Timmy's cock with one hand, while he began preparing himself with the lube.

"I love it when you multitask," Timmy said, his voice a little strained from the actions of Donald's pumping hand. "God, you look so hot doing that," he added, and Donald could feel himself blushing. He knew he always had Timothy's rapt, fascinated attention when he engaged in any self-stimulating activity, but he always felt a little stupid putting on the show. Looking at the heated desire in Timmy's eyes now, he felt like the sexiest man in the world.

Timmy stuffed pillows behind his back so he was sitting, slightly reclined, ready for Donald to lower himself onto his rigid cock. Donald loved the feeling of being filled, of easing his way down to accommodate Timmy's full length inside him. And he loved watching the changes in his lover's expression, the pleasure mixed with the love and tenderness that were always there whenever Timothy turned his beautiful face Donald's way.

Timmy's hands came up to frame his face, guiding him down for a kiss. Donald rested his hands on Timmy's shoulders and started rocking, smiling when Timmy ran his hands over Donald's chest, around his sides, then pulled him close as he caressed Donald's back, letting his hands slide down to Donald's hips, near where their bodies were joined. While they kissed, Timmy was taking the opportunity to touch every part of Donald he could reach, stroking the powerful thighs that were around his waist, then back up to his hips, his sides, his back, the contours of his biceps and shoulders. Finally, his hand slid into Donald's hair and held him in place to make sure their lips didn't part, that their tongues continued their dance. His other hand insinuated itself between them, wrapping around Donald's cock, stroking it in time with the motion of their bodies.

The heat between them, the motion of Timmy inside him, Timmy's hands all over him, loving him, tracing his body like it was a fascinating sculpture of unparalleled beauty...it was too much and Donald felt himself coming, the feeling of Timmy's hand on his cock gentle and yet strong enough to drag a cry of pleasure from the pit of is soul as it conspired with the pressure on his prostate to push him over the edge.

He lay there spent in his lover's arms, his head on Timmy's warm, hairy chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat as he came, regretting as he always did the moment when their physical union ended. Still, Timmy was the best cuddler in the world, and the only man Donald had ever been with who made the cuddling seem as good as the sex. Maybe even better, if that was humanly possible. Maybe it was because as they lay there together, breathing heavily, a little too warm where their bodies pressed together, and yet chilly where they didn't, those gentle hands of Timmy's were still caressing him for no other reason than expressing the unconditional and seemingly boundless love he had for Donald. At least, Donald hadn't found conditions or boundaries on it yet. Even when he pissed Timmy off, even if he managed to hurt his feelings, even if he was sick or cranky or insensitive, reeling in big retainers or going through the occasionally unsettling dry spell and money was tight...he never felt loved any less than he did right now.

Then he felt his lover stir a little, move his arms about a bit, only to feel the warmth of a blanket being solicitously tucked over his back and around his shoulders before those wonderful arms were back around him again, kissing his cheek.

"Feels good," he said through a sigh, wondering how he could have ever not been where Timmy needed him to be, no matter how wonderful the income was he'd reeled in because of it. It was on the tip of his tongue to apologize again, but Timmy had made him promise to stop beating himself up, so he stayed silent. Timmy's hand stroked his back soothingly.

"You have never not come to my rescue, or been by my side, when I really, truly needed you, honey. I know you'd lay down your life for me, do anything to help me, and that you'd sacrifice anything you had to take care of me, or protect me. Let it go." Donald felt warm lips on his temple.

"I love you more than anything else."

"I know you do, baby. I want us to have the opportunity to be officially married someday, but it will never mean more to me than that moment when you proposed to me, or when we exchanged our vows and put our rings on each other's fingers. You gave me your heart and committed your life to me. Donald, I couldn't treasure anything else more, legal or not."

"We still have some really good romantic music and all those candles, and that heart-shaped tub that we haven't put to good use yet," Donald said, smiling, loving the little rumble of laughter that sent through Timmy's body.

"It's going to be a long night." He guided Donald's face up so they could kiss. "A very long, very beautiful night," he added, smiling, rolling them over so he was on top of Donald, the two of them kissing and touching and tangling their legs together amidst the white satin sheets.

The candles and the tub had to wait just a bit longer.