Title: One More Night
Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries (movieverse)
Pairing: Donald and Timothy
Rating: R

Word Count: 4500
References/Spoilers: Vague reference to Donald's past that's explained in STTS. This story takes place before the time line of the movies.
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: Don and Tim go on their first date. Sequel to the story "Phoning Home"

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ONE MORE NIGHT

by

Candy Apple

I had reservations at a really nice Italian restaurant, and I already knew he liked old movies, because he said so. But what if he hated Italian food? Are there people who hate Italian food? I've never met one, but there probably are people who don't eat pasta, pizza, or have some weird aversion to meatballs.

Every decent piece of clothing I owned was on the bed. Which really didn't amount to a hell of a lot. I needed a couple suits so people take me seriously as a PI, and I owned a pair of Dockers because an ex-boyfriend considered them a wardrobe essential, and then there were the jeans and t-shirt collection. Nothing remarkable there, although Tim didn't seem to have any complaints about my looks. That made me smile. I hadn't been dressed to impress when I met him, and he still seemed to like what he saw.

I actually had been looking for a one-nighter when I went to the club that night. No real need for me to admit that to Tim, since he was a nice guy who didn't usually do that. Honestly, I stopped doing that a few years ago, but I'd been working on a stressful case, I was between relationships - or what passed for a relationship in my world - and I felt like just getting off would be the best way to relax.

Meeting Tim Callahan had been worth derailing that plan. I could have had him - he was offering and for a while after I left him at his door, I was questioning my sanity for not taking him up on it. He was beautiful and he had a great body, at least I thought he probably did from what I could tell, given he was all gift wrapped in khakis and a long-sleeved shirt.

For some reason, I just couldn't take advantage of him when he felt so broken up by what that piece of shit he'd been dating had said to him. I had almost talked myself into the idea I'd be doing him a favor, boosting his sagging morale and self-image, but I knew that was bullshit. He was hurting, and he wanted someone to make that better. Holding him on the dance floor, flattering him a little, treating him like I thought there was more to him than a pretty face and what I suspected was a very fuckable ass - that made him feel better. I could tell that much by the time we made our date for tonight.

There was something special in the way we connected with each other. Something I haven't felt in way too long. Maybe I never really felt it, I don't know. But I cared about him, about his feelings, about what he thinks of things - especially me - and I wanted to treat him right. Part of me wanted to take care of him, protect him, spoil him, romance him - but I was getting way ahead of myself. If I didn't pick out an outfit pretty soon, I'd have talked myself into marrying the guy before we got through our first date. Maybe he was a boring pain in the ass when he wasn't miserable. Maybe everything his ex said was right, and my standards had just slipped in the last few years. Somehow, I doubted that.

A suit seemed too formal, and the jeans and t-shirt thing didn't really work for the restaurant I'd chosen. As I was standing there in my boxers rubbing my chest, staring in desperation at my clothes and wondering if I had time to go to the mall and buy something, the phone rang. The caller ID showed Tim's cell number. Shit, he'd probably come to his senses or gotten a better offer.

"Hello?"

"Don, hi, it's Tim."

"Hi. I was just getting dressed to come and pick you up. Everything okay?" <i>That didn't sound too desperate. Smooth, Strachey, really, really smooth. For an encore, why don't you drop to your knees and beg him not to dump you?</i>

"Yes, fine. I wondered if we were going somewhere dressy for dinner, or casual? I feel foolish asking what to wear, but I wasn't sure..."

<i>And your asshole ex made you feel like you don't dress right and you're prissy and you're trying not to make the same impression on me...</i> Even more, I wanted to hunt down that bastard and pound him into street pizza.

"I bet you look incredible in a suit," I said, smiling, enjoying the stunned pause on the other end of the line. And, wearing a suit would get me out of this god-awful clothing dilemma without a trip to a clothing store. We could always ditch our ties and jackets in the theater.

"Thanks," he said, a smile audible in his voice. For some reason, making him happy, making him feel good, made me feel good. Better than I ever felt before. "So we're going dressy?"

"We can always ditch our ties for the movies, but the restaurant is nice. Do you like Italian?"

"I love it. You didn't get us a table at Carnevale, did you?" he asked.

"Yeah, I did. You like that place?"

"It's one of my favorites!" he replied, enthused. "I'll see you in about an hour then?" he asked.

"I'll be there."

After I hung up, I went about getting dressed with a decided spring in my step. He liked Italian, and I'd chosen one of his favorite places. If I hadn't, I'd have still said yes, and figured a way to bribe, lie, cheat, or connive a table there just for him.

When I arrived at Tim's apartment building, I purposely got there a bit early, because I wanted to do this right. I wasn't going to pull up to the curb and lay on the horn. I was going to go pick up my date like a gentleman. I was going to treat him the way he should be treated, and in a way I suspect "Steve" hadn't treated him. Steve. I wanted his last name. I'd have to finagle that out of Tim so I could check on the asshole, find out where he lived. I'm not sure what I wanted to do to him, but there had to be something. Nothing fatal or homicidal, but he had some nasty karma coming for treating someone who seemed so gentle and so kind, so badly.

By the time I was halfway up the sidewalk, Tim was already approaching the door. The most beautiful big smile spread across his face when he saw me, and my heart fluttered. Literally - the damn thing actually did a little arrhythmia that would have had me considering the ER if I wasn't ten feet away from paradise. Short of a massive fatal coronary, nothing was going to stand between me and the beautiful creature that was opening the door to come out on a date with me.

I called it right about how he looked in a suit. Sweet Jesus, nobody should look that good and go out in public. Between that and the cologne he was wearing, I could have shoved him into the bushes and done him right there. God knows, my cock was on board with that idea.

"You look great," he said, as he stepped outside the door, letting it close behind him.

"You're not too tough on the eyes yourself," I replied, smiling, deciding to kiss him hello. No tongue, just a nice little kiss that said he was my date, and I was glad about that. He looked like I'd just given him a million bucks instead of a tame little kiss. My beautiful Timothy liked old fashioned romance. For him, I could do old fashioned romance, even if my balls shriveled up and fell off from sexual frustration.

So I took his hand in mine, and we walked out to the car. I opened the door for him and closed it once he was seated. My coach might be a pumpkin, but I could still treat him to some good manners. I'd even vacuumed the floorboards, shaken out the old floor mats, vacuumed the upholstery so he didn't get take out crumbs on his suit, and cleaned out the back seat in case he happened to get a look at it when the overhead light was on. I even drove the damn thing through the car wash, though that was really akin to polishing a turd. There's just not much to be gained and I had some concerns something might fall off when the brushes hit it - like the windshield or a door.

"I can't believe you chose Carnevale! I love that place," he said as we started out down the road.

"I'm glad, then. I probably should have asked you what kind of food you liked. I love Italian, Thai food - "

"I love Thai food," he replied, giving me another one of those smiles. I hadn't seen much of that the other night, and whatever cloud of anguish he'd been under over "Steve" seemed to have lifted. I didn't dare hope I was the reason for all that. I figured he'd just come to his senses and realized he was sweet, sexy, and essentially an erection on legs, and Steve wasn't worth the pain he was letting him cause. I just hoped I had time to make a decent impression on him before he figured out that he could do so much better than a struggling PI with a shitty apartment and an even shittier car.

"Then next time, it's Thai," I said, smiling. Okay, go ahead and assume you're going to get a second date with him. See what happens. He was still smiling, and when he looked at me, he looked positively radiant with some kind of inner happiness that just glowed.

"I'd like that," he said.

<i>Jackpot! You're not even at the restaurant, he knows you drive shit on wheels for a car, and he's already signing up for another date.</i> The shock should have flattened me right there. I wasn't used to having something like this, like him, dropped in my lap as if from the heavens.

"I know this great little place downtown. It's nothing to look at, but the food is amazing."

"Not Chen's Thai Kitchen?"

"That's the place."

"I can't believe we've never run into each other there. I eat there at least once a week, when I have time to walk that far from the Senate building for lunch - or when I can talk someone I work with who has a car into going there."

"When you get a craving for it, just give me a call. If I'm not tied up on a case, I'll pick you up and we'll have lunch there." <i>And if you get a craving for anything else, you can give me a call. I'll definitely drop everything and make myself available...</i>

"Sounds great. Which movies are playing tonight? I didn't get a chance to look it up in the paper."

"The Blob, Leopard Man, and Plan 9 from Outer Space," I said.

"Leopard Man? I love Val Lewton movies."

"Oh, yeah, he directed The Cat People, didn't he?"

"And I Walked with a Zombie - have you seen that one?"

"For a minute there, I thought you were talking about Steve," I ventured, wondering if he'd laugh or be depressed. He laughed.

"You have a point there," he agreed, shaking his head.

"Did the pissed off phase kick in yet?"

"Nah, I didn't even bother with that. I skipped right to the 'what's done is done' phase."

"Good for you," I said, glad that he was out of his funk. Even gladder that we liked some of the same things, and especially that we liked each other. "I haven't seen the zombie movie."

"I have it on DVD. We could get take out from Chen's and watch it sometime, if you want."

"Sure, sounds like fun. I saw your boss on TV. I kept looking for you but I didn't see you there," I said, referring to an appearance Senator Glassman had made at a university function that was on the news. Since Tim was an aide on her staff, I figured maybe he'd be there, holding her briefcase or something. I didn't really know what congressional aides did, but if you got to have something that looked like Tim following you around all day, it made me regret not pursuing a career in politics.

"Her chief aide usually accompanies her to things like that. I'm not there yet, but he's retiring in a year or so."

"Got your eye on the old boy's job, huh?"

"I'm ready to pounce on it like a hungry cheetah. If he puts off his retirement one more year, I swear, I'll have to do something drastic."

"Just so you know, I don't know any hit men," I joked.

"What a disappointment!" he replied, laughing. "I was thinking more of changing jobs."

"Might draw you less prison time."

"He's a good guy. I've learned a lot from him. I just want him to retire and enjoy his fishing boat he's always talking about, and let me have his job."

We were seated at a good table, a little off the beaten path and near the fireplace. I could tell Tim was pleased with it, and we started perusing the menu.

"Do you like calamari?" he asked. "I was thinking we could share an appetizer."

<i>Squid? Seriously? It's like deep-fried rubber, only with less taste. Well, nobody's perfect.</i>

"Why don't we get one of the combo platters and throw in some stuffed mushrooms and fried mozzarella?"

"Sounds great," he agreed. So I ordered our appetizer, and after asking his preference for red or white, ordered us a nice bottle of red wine, while he was still checking out the menu.

He chose the lasagna, and I went for the spaghetti and meatballs. Our appetizer was good, and if he noticed I didn't eat any of the calamari, he didn't mention it. He let me have my graceful out. We talked about movies, and I found out that our tastes were pretty compatible. He talked more about his job, and I was enchanted just watching and listening to him. I loved his voice, his obvious passion for certain elements of his job and politics in general, even though listening to anyone talk politics is something I should never do while driving or operating heavy machinery. An intravenous shot of Valium wouldn't knock me out that fast.

At the risk of sounding corny, it was like watching a rose bloom right in front of me. He'd been so sad, so unsure of himself and of me, and so subdued when we first met, and now, he was animated, upbeat, and dove into the food and the conversation with gusto. I suspected this was the real Tim Callahan, the one who had been hurt so badly that he'd been emotionally limping through our first encounter. Now, he was dancing through our date. There was no awkwardness with us, right from the start. We talked like we'd know each other a lifetime, and we kept discovering things we both liked, philosophies we both shared, and enough things we didn't agree on to keep things interesting.

As stuffed as we were from dinner, we still got a bucket of popcorn to share, and a couple soft drinks for the movie. I had to have my jujubes, even though I nearly had to go to the restroom and purge to find room for them. I don't know why I like them, since they're actually not all that good, but I do. Tim had never had them before, so I was pleased to take his jujube virginity.

"These are awful," he whispered, and I laughed.

"Just suck on it. You'll get used to it."

"Where have I heard <i>that</i> before?" he replied, and I nearly choked on my soda. Who'd have thought a raunchy sense of humor was in there somewhere? I finally laughed, and he looked back at me, grinning a little mischievously.

We learned that we both eat the popcorn too fast, so it's gone about a half hour into the first movie. Still, we were full from all we'd eaten, and still sipping our soft drinks, so we were comfortable. We'd arranged ourselves in the seats in such a way that our shoulders pressed together, and we were frequently whispering back and forth. We found we both liked sitting in the back of the theater, so we could do just that - whisper to each other, if the movie didn't hold our complete attention.

I hadn't seen Leopard Man before, and I had to agree with Tim that it was creepy and effective for an old movie. All the terror was in what you didn't see, but for some reason, you felt like you'd seen a lot. That took some movie-making skill.

I knew three nights of not sleeping would catch up with me, but I was frustrated beyond words that it was choosing this moment to do so. I felt my head dip down and jerk up a couple times, and I finally said something, because I knew Tim noticed it, too.

"Sorry. I 've been pulling some all-nighters on a case. I haven't slept more than an hour or so at a time since Tuesday," I whispered. He smiled at me, and ran his arm behind my seat, urging me to rest my head on his shoulder.

"Why don't you relax a while? It's not like Plan 9 from Outer Space is something you absolutely can't miss," he added.

"I'm okay," I insisted. I didn't want to lose a minute of the time with him, and I didn't want him to think I was bored.

"Don, you look exhausted. Take a nap. Maybe we can have a nightcap when you get your second wind."

I was too tired to argue, and sitting there in the dark theater with my head on his shoulder was too close to heaven to pass up. I felt so good there with him, so right, and the fact he really didn't seem to mind my falling asleep on him, literally, touched me in a way I still can't put into words. As I dozed, I could feel his fingers exploring my hair a little, but in this soothing way, like he was trying to lull me into sleep. He had trouble waking me up when the movie ended, but if he was embarrassed by being trapped under my dead weight and having to keep coaxing me awake as the lights came up and the other people were leaving the theater, he didn't show it. And he woke me so gently when he could have just jerked his arm out from under me and gotten me moving.

"I'm sorry about dying on you like that," I said as we walked out to the car, and I slipped my hand into his.

"You needed the rest. I've had a great time tonight, but I would have understood if you had to cancel. Three nights without sleep is just...brutal."

"I wasn't going to cancel our first date. I've been looking forward to it since we met on Tuesday," I admitted, and he smiled, squeezing my hand.

"Me, too."

"Now that dinner's shaken down a little, you want to stop for ice cream?" I asked.

"Sure," he agreed, and we went to a little restaurant not far from the theater and ordered a banana split to share.

We were two of only about six customers in the whole place, so we had a little privacy in our booth. I carefully prepared a nice spoonful of ice cream and topping, and held it out to him across the table. He grinned at me and ate it, then did the same for me. So I got up and moved over to his side of the booth, and we fed each other the rest of the treat. It was silly and fun and romantic, and I couldn't ever remember doing anything like it before. I hoped we'd do things like that together again. For a long time. I was already having trouble imagining my life without Tim in it. That scared me. What if he got tired of me? What if someone else better came along? I didn't have much to offer him, and he had the chance to meet rich people, community leaders, big shots of all sorts in his job with the senator. Out of all those people, there was bound to be at least one or more affluent, successful gay men who would shower Timothy with all the elegant things and opportunities he deserved.

Then there was me with my fledgling PI business, my crappy car, and my spotty wardrobe. And my freakish schedule. And my secrets. I know he was shrewd enough to figure out I hadn't told him everything about my past. I couldn't. I couldn't face it, and he'd be horrified by some of it. I couldn't shake the memory of loving someone so much and then finding out I wasn't enough, that he really didn't love me the way I loved him. That death was preferable to an open life with me.

How could a loser like me ever hope to hold onto something as beautiful and good as he was?

And then Tim kissed me. In the middle of our little ice cream eating ritual, he touched my face and guided me toward him and kissed me, long and deep, his tongue in my mouth, no doubts left that he felt something very real for me. It wasn't a kiss you give someone because you're ready to screw them and you think you should at least show enough interest to kiss them. And it definitely wasn't a polite kiss. It was the passionate kiss you give a lover, someone you want to share your body with the way you're sharing your mouths. We were out of view of the other customers, and for a few moments, we had utter privacy. Just us and the remnants of our banana split.

So we kissed some more, necking like two teenagers in a 50's movie, keeping a watchful eye out for the waitress. It wasn't that we were worried about her reaction to two men kissing - we were more worried about her reaction to any two customers licking each other's tonsils in the restaurant. But once we started, it was hard to stop. Something magical was clicking between us, between our minds, our hearts, and definitely, our bodies.

We finally parted when we heard the waitress coming with the check. She seemed relieved that we were getting ready to leave, since it was obvious the restaurant was ready to close as soon as we, and one other table, had the good sense to leave.

I was so tired by the time we got in the car that I considered asking Tim to drive me home and just take my car to get himself home. I could barely keep my eyes open. I knew I was pushing myself with sleep deprivation, but I wouldn't have traded a moment of that evening for hours of sleep.

"Don, look out!"

Tim's panicked voice and temporary commandeering of the steering wheel woke me in a hurry, and as I clutched the wheel and came back to my senses, I realized he'd saved us from a close call with the oncoming traffic.

"Shit, I'm sorry," I blurted. "I fell asleep," I admitted.

"I know. We're almost to my place. Just come in and stay over. I'd like to spend Sunday with you anyway," he added, smiling. I'd nearly killed the poor guy a minute ago, and he was already planning how we could spend a nice Sunday together.

"I'm sorry about..."

"It's okay. No harm done. You're exhausted, and I don't want you to try to drive home like that."

It wasn't exactly how I anticipated spending my first night with Tim. My body was literally shutting down on me from no sleep, and by the time we rode in the elevator up to his third floor apartment, I was nearly asleep on my feet. I think it was a nice place. I didn't really notice too much of it. I was going to collapse on his couch, but he steered me along with him to the hall.

"Go pee," he said, giving me a gentle push into the bathroom. Wise man, he was, because I released a couple gallons from the wine and the soft drinks and the ice water that goes so well with a big rich dessert. I wandered out of the bathroom and found him in the bedroom, turning back the bed.

"I'll just stretch out on the couch," I said.

"It's a king bed, and I promise not to take advantage of you," he said, smiling, guiding me to sit on the side of it. Before I could tip over, he was efficiently removing my clothes until he had me down to my shorts and undershirt. This must be why my mother told me to always wear clean underwear, since you never know who's going to see it.

I collapsed into the softness of the bed, and felt him tucking me in.

"Oh, baby, you're exhausted," he whispered, his voice so warm with sympathy and caring that if I'd been rational and awake, it would have moved me deeply. He sat on the side of the bed and rubbed my back gently, because he could see I was fighting to wake up, to say something to him. "Shh. Go to sleep, it's okay. We'll have brunch together tomorrow and figure out how to spend a lazy Sunday." Then he very softly kissed my lips. "It's okay, just let go and sleep."

I couldn't stay awake any longer, so I finally let go and drifted off, grateful for his kindness and even more in love with him than I'd been when we were making out in the restaurant booth. My last conscious thoughts were about the wonderful prospect of spending Sunday with him, and how long it had been since someone touched me the way he was touching me now - or cared if I was sick, exhausted, or dead, for that matter.

And that despite swearing I'd never let it happen again, I was in love...and it made me smile.

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