Title: Sunday
Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries (movieverse)
Pairing: Donald and Timothy
Rating: R

Word Count: 4679
References/Spoilers: Can't think of any. 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: The guys spend their first lazy Sunday together. Sequel to "One More Night."

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SUNDAY

by 

Candy Apple

When I climbed into bed, I looked over at Don. He was sleeping so peacefully, so deeply, that he didn't even stir when I got in, or even when I rolled over and settled into a comfortable position. He had turned over so he was facing the middle of the bed, and that was fine with me. I could lie there like this and watch him sleep, memorize that face that had so quickly become so fascinating to me. I wondered if I'd be here, ten years from now, watching that face like this, even more in love with him from years of a shared life.

If I was granted just one wish, that would have been it. I knew falling in love so hard, so fast, was probably dangerous. I just couldn't help it. I wondered how anyone could not love him.

He was handsome, even as he slept, and I was fascinated with the thick, pale gold lashes that trimmed his eyelids. It was easy not to see them when you looked at him face-on, but when the light caught them, or as he slept, they were beautiful. I'm not sure why I got the feeling life hadn't been nearly as kind to Don as he deserved. I wanted to be his safe haven, the place he went to rest, to be at peace, to be loved. If I had someone like him loving me, in my life, I would never let anything bad touch him if I could help it. And if it did, I'd do all I could to make it better.

I loved just resting there with him, and I dozed off smiling, hoping this was the beginning of something wonderful.

********

Don slept so long and so deeply that I frequently poked my head in the door of the bedroom to see if he was still breathing. I finally got up, took a shower, got dressed, and even ate some cereal to tide me over. I wanted to fix us a nice brunch when he did wake up, so I just needed something to keep the wolf away from the door until that happened.

When he did get up, I was sitting in the living room folding a basket of laundry that had been in the corner of the bedroom for a couple days. I had the Sunday paper there, and I had DVD's, but I wanted to save something relaxing and "Sundayish" for us to do together. I knew my mother was probably checking her watch for my call and positive I'd fallen prey to the temptations of the flesh, but I didn't want to wake him earlier with a lot of talking going on.

I'd thought I was in love with Don before, but when he walked out of the bedroom in his underwear, his hair sticking in all directions, rubbing his eyes, looking like a big version of a bewildered little boy who just got up from a nap, my heart melted. He looked at me for a moment like he was surprised I was there, and couldn't exactly figure out what was happening.

"Did you have a good sleep?" I asked, smiling. He blinked a few times, and then it seemed like reality was coming back.

"I don't think I've slept that hard in years. What time is it?"

"Almost one," I said, still grinning at him. He looked so cute, and I was so glad he was there.

"I'm really sorry," he said, seeming to realize belatedly that he was standing there in his underwear.

"There are plenty of towels in the bathroom, and you're welcome to borrow a robe if you want - the one on the back of the bathroom door is fresh out of the laundry. I left some sweats on the end of the dresser in the bedroom in case you want those. I even have clean socks available," I added, holding up a pair of soft, white socks. It was a cold October afternoon, and ominous rumbles of thunder were underscoring the rain that drummed on the roof and occasionally blew against the windows.

"Thanks. I'll grab a shower and take you up on the sweats," he said. "It's freezing in here," he added. "But then I guess I'm a little underdressed," he said, laughing.

"The sweats'll help, and there's a space heater in the bathroom."

"Sounds good. I won't be long."

After he went into the bathroom, I started a pot of coffee, since the diet cola I'd had for my caffeine fix didn't exactly hit the spot the same way, and I figured he could use something warm to drink. Apparently, he didn't like the cold too much. I hoped that meant we could snuggle under the throw later while we watched movies. Or whatever. The "whatever" brought a decidedly naughty grin to my face as I started taking out supplies to prepare our meal.

As an afterthought, I went to the door of the bathroom and when I heard the water stop, I called to him.

"Feel free to use any of the shaving stuff if you want," I called to him.

"Great, thanks. I look like a fucking porcupine this morning."

"I think you look good in the morning," I ventured, smiling, waiting for his reply. There was a moment of silence. That made me happy. I wanted to surprise him a little, and I also had the feeling Don didn't always realize how beautiful and unbelievably sexy he is.

"You might need new glasses, there, Timothy," he replied, laughing.

"My glasses are fine. And so are you," I replied, and then left him to ponder that one while I set the table. I tried not to think about how my somewhat generic, tidy, two bedroom apartment would feel so much warmer and more like home if Don was sharing it with me. We hadn't even had sex yet, and I was fantasizing about moving in together. Steve's voice jabbed the back of my brain.

"Two weeks into our relationship and I thought you'd be picking out a fucking china pattern."

Asshole. The only "china pattern" I'd want to see with him would be the indentation in his head from breaking my serving tray over it.

Well, at least my mother would be proud of me for not moping over someone she couldn't stand in the first place, though having assault and homicide fantasies about him probably wouldn't be her ideal scenario for my coping strategy.

"Coffee," Don said as he joined me in the small kitchen, looking and sounding like the mere thought of it was better than sex. I wasn't sure if I should be happy or jealous that my coffee seemed to stir his physical reactions more than the rest of me. He poured some into the two cups that were next to the coffee maker and handed one to me first. Always the perfect gentleman. I wondered if he was real, or if I'd gone stark raving mad after my breakup and invented an imaginary boyfriend. No guy could be this good.

"What do you want to eat? I have eggs, or we can make pancakes - "

"Let's make omelets together."

"You make omelets?"

"Yeah, and I've been told they're not half bad. That surprises you, that I can cook?"

"Yes, kind of. I'm not sure why," I added honestly, liking the way he looked in my sweats, even though he had to do some strange rolling up thing with the pant legs due to our three-inch height difference.

"Honestly, the omelets are about my only speciality, except for microwave dinners."

"I have some ham we can chop up, and onions, peppers..."

"Anything can go in omelets - makes 'em more interesting. You have any leftovers?"

"Just a few pieces of fried chicken. Steve brought a bucket of chicken over right before he dumped me. I'm not sure why he thought some greasy fried food would soften the blow."

"We can chop that up. There's something a little symbolic in chopping up his chicken and cooking it in our omelets."

"When you put it that way, it sounds wonderful," I agreed, taking the foil wrapped package out of the refrigerator.

"Ham, chicken, onions, peppers - you have cheese, right?"

"Oh, yes, that's right." I produced a nice block of cheddar cheese from the refrigerator, and he seemed happy with that.

Then, out of nowhere, he wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me. It was a nice, long, gentle kiss that was followed by another one that was a bit steamier, his tongue slipping inside my mouth, finding mine, romancing it, almost. Like kissing me was as good as having sex with me would be. Then he kissed me again, without tongue, kissed my cheeks and then the end of my nose.

"I forgot to say 'good morning'," he explained, still holding me close.

"It's afternoon," I said, kissing him this time, savoring his mouth locked to mine, not letting him up for air until I'd had my fill. Then I just hugged him. Held him close to me, and gave in to the desire to just feel his body against me, to express some of the love I felt. I hoped I didn't seem overbearing or clingy. I'd never forgive myself if I ruined this. I pulled back a little sooner than I wanted to, and said, "Good afternoon."

"I can't wait to see what 'good evening' involves," he replied, giving me one of those smiles I'd have walked over a hundred miles of hot coals just to see.

"Me, too," I agreed, hoping my voice came across as sexy, and not cheesy or desperate.

"Let's have something to eat. Build up our strength a bit," he added, and I hoped the warmth in my face didn't mean I was blushing like a schoolgirl. I guess I must have been blushing a little, but it made him smile. He kissed my cheek, his hand resting lightly on the other one. "You're really beautiful, Timothy." The words went right to my heart, and the way he used my full name in such a soft, sexy voice, went straight to some other places. I could have easily gotten emotional, but he'd seen enough tears and sniveling from me to last him a while.

"So are you, Donald," I replied, kissing him. "I feel like I could look into your eyes forever," I said, and I suddenly feared I'd blurted out too much. Truthfully, I knew I wanted to look into his eyes forever, for years of a shared life together, until we were both old and gray. I was so in love with him already that it scared me. What worried more is that it would scare him, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing him.

Then my stomach growled. Loudly.

"First things first," he said, laughing. "I'm starving, too. Let's make lunch. Or whatever meal this is," he added, and I couldn't resist that big smile. I had to smile back.

We chopped up the ingredients for our omelets, happily moving around each other and bumping into each other in the kitchen as we worked together at making our meal. If making love went as well as making lunch, everything would be okay.

We were both hungrier than we realized, sitting at the table and devouring the food as if we'd been on desert islands for the last few months. We didn't talk about heavy subjects. We occupied ourselves with planning which DVD's we'd watch, talking about the weather, which wasn't getting any better, and agreeing that we'd done a fine job on our omelets. If Don was in a big hurry to get in my pants, he was hiding it well. One part of me was in a hurry to get into his, but another part was afraid that it would suddenly turn the magic between us into simple physical heat, and that would be it. That it was all building up to that, and not to falling in love. That I was in love with him and he'd be turned off by that.

"Where did you go?"

Don's voice startled me, and I stared at him blankly.

"We were talking and all of a sudden, I lost you," he said, smiling. "You okay?"

"Sorry. Yes, I'm fine," I said. He reached over and took my hand.

"No, you're not. What's going on in that head of yours? Did anyone ever tell you that you think too much?"

"No, but I'm sure that's just because he ran out of time listing my shortcomings," I said.

"So which pearl of wisdom from Steve has you stewing now?"

"Nothing in particular," I said, though I was lying, and he knew it.

"Timothy," he said, using my full name again. I liked it.

"I don't want to mess this up."

"So far, I've fallen asleep on you, then almost got you killed, then I collapsed in your bed and slept for twelve hours, and you've seen me unshaven in my underwear with that...eye crud still in my eyes, and you're worried about messing things up?" He pulled my hand up toward his lips and kissed the back of it. "You aren't going to mess anything up with me. You couldn't."

I smiled at him, and kissed him. I hoped that soon, I'd stop measuring my every move and start trusting Don the way he deserved to be trusted. In the short time we'd spent together, he'd treated me with more love and sensitivity than I'd gotten from my last three relationships combined.

The storm was picking up pace outside, thunder clapping and lightning flashing. We watched old movies, shared the newspaper, and yes, snuggled together under the throw. Don occasionally dozed and so did I. Now I understood why some married people could stay together for forty, fifty, sixty years or more. If this was a sneak preview of what it could be like, I'd sign up for eternity. I was drifting on that happy thought, my head on Don's shoulder, a favorite old movie just wrapping up, when words came that threw a bucket of ice water on all those warm feelings.

"Shit, I better get going," he said, looking at his watch.

"Going? It's Sunday night. Where are you going?" Then I realized I'd sounded way too clingy and demanding. He didn't owe me explanations. Not this early in our relationship. I was just so disappointed. I thought snuggling on the couch was our version of prolonged foreplay, and that tonight would be the night... "Sorry. You don't have to tell me," I added. Maybe if he thought I knew I was being too clingy, it would keep him from running far and fast in the opposite direction.

"My client, the one I've been pulling the all-nighters for. He's only out of town one more night, and I haven't managed to catch his wife cheating on him yet."

"Maybe she isn't."

"Maybe not, but I didn't watch her last night, so I really can't justify not watching her tonight, either. His retainer paid my lease payment on the office and my rent this month, so I can't piss him off. I'm sure after riding in my car, you aren't under the impression I'm rolling in the dough just yet."

"It's not safe to sit outside in a car with all this lightning."

"I'll be fine, honey," he said, laughing very softly, kissing me on the cheek.

Oh. My. God. He called me HONEY.

"I had a great time today," he said, standing. Suddenly I felt like someone had cut me in half, when he moved away and I no longer felt his warm body against mine.

"So did I," I agreed, smiling.

"I'm sorry about tonight. I wish I could stay."

"Me, too," I replied, hoping he knew what he was missing by leaving, and hoping he was disappointed to miss it.

"I'm gonna change into my clothes, " he said, gesturing toward the bedroom with his thumb.

"Yeah, sure," I said, watching him go into the bedroom. He didn't shut the door. I wondered if that meant something. Of course, I'd already taken the liberty of stripping him to his underwear and putting him to bed, so I guess there wasn't much he had to worry about me seeing.

I went into the kitchen and used the rest of the leftover chicken to make him a sandwich. Take that, Steve. I'm feeding the rest of your chicken to my new boyfriend. Oh, and I'm going to send him the cole slaw that came with it, too. I added a few cookies and some potato chips, and bagged the little meal along with a can of cola, a plastic fork, and a couple napkins. Of course, maybe he liked take out better and would think this was too domestic, me packing him food. I debated if I should shove it in the refrigerator and pretend I didn't pack it for him, or if I should follow through and give it to him.

"Is that for me?" he asked, joining me in the kitchen, his approach as stealthy as a panther sneaking up on its prey. I jumped a little.

"Uh, yeah, I thought you might get hungry later," I said, handing him the little paper bag, hoping he didn't think I was too much of a sap. He looked in the top of it, and then he looked at me like I'd handed him a million dollars instead of a sandwich and some munchies.

"You made this for me?"

"It's just a sandwich and some stuff in case you get hungry."

He rolled down the top of the bag, and then he kissed me, a long, gentle, sweet kiss like you'd give someone you loved that you really didn't want to leave. I'd have cut off one of my limbs and put it in a bag for him for that kiss.

"My schedule's going to be a little dicey for the next few days," he said, and my heart sank. Was that his graceful way of starting to detach, or to peel me off him? Could I have read him wrong? Maybe he just felt guilty about taking the sandwich when he was going to dump me?

"I understand," I said, and I hoped my voice didn't sound as crushed as I felt.

He looked at me, confused a moment. "I don't think you do." He took me in his arms and pushed me gently, but decisively, against the wall, our groins pressed against each other, and kissed the hell out of me, with lots of tongue, rubbing against me until I thought I'd pass out or come in my pants - possibly both.

"I'm starting to see things more clearly, but I might need a little more clarification," I said, pouncing on him this time, kissing and licking inside his mouth, letting my hand slip down his back to brush over his ass, even though I didn't let it linger there.

"It's gonna be a long night by myself in that car," he said, chuckling a little. "When I mentioned my schedule, I was going to ask you if you were free for lunch Tuesday. I thought I could pick you up and we could have lunch at Chen's. I have a couple appointments Monday, I'm not sure what's up with my nights until I see which way this case goes, and there's another lady who might sign up with me to do some checking on her husband... I think I may have given you the impression that my regular cases are a bit more exciting than they really are. The murders and the missing persons are definitely the minority."

"Tuesday's actually no good for me. I have a luncheon I'm supposed to attend with the senator's staff. What about Wednesday, then?"

"That's probably okay," he said. "Depends on whether or not I get that other new case, and what it involves."

"Why don't you just come over sometime when you can?" I asked. "It sounds like your schedule is kind of tricky, so just give me a call or stop by if you can. I'd like to see you sooner than Wednesday," I admitted. He gave me one of those big smiles.

"I can do that. I might even bring a bottle of wine."

"As long as you bring yourself," I said, touching his cheek.

"You've got a deal," he said, taking my hand and kissing it. "I'm gonna miss you, Timothy."

"Not for too long, I hope," I said, following him to the door.

"No longer than I have to," he said with such honesty that it made my heart leap. I kissed him one more time, wanting one more taste of him before he left.

"Be careful."

"Thanks, I will," he said, looking as if those two words had meant a lot to him. I got the feeling it had been a while since someone worried about him or fussed over him a little.

After he was gone, I sat on the couch and looked around the empty room. I wondered how I was going to stand this place now, by myself. I suddenly remembered I hadn't called my mother yet, so this seemed as good a time as any, before she disowned me completely and while I was still feeling lonely.

"Hi, Mom, it's me," I said when she answered the phone.

"Do I want to know why you're just coming up for air now?" she asked, though her tone was good-natured. My mother likes to keep track of me, but she's no Mother Bates to my Norman.

"Don just left," I said. "I miss him already."

"He's been there since last night?"

"He had been up for three nights straight on a case, but he didn't cancel our date. He was so tired last night, I let him sleep here."

"That's a good line," she said, obviously skeptical.

"He was really exhausted. You'd have had to see him. All we did was sleep. He was out like a light the minute he hit the pillow and didn't move until this afternoon. We just had a nice meal together and watched some old movies...cuddled up on the couch."

"And that's all that happened?"

"There was some kissing involved," I admitted.

"In a way I'm relieved to hear that. I was going to ask you if you thought he was all right."

"First you're afraid I'm going to go too far, too fast, and now you're worried because I didn't?"

"I just thought it was unusual to find a young man these days who would be a gentleman that long."

"All my friends have told me there aren't any guys like Don out there anymore. Mom, he's courting me. He called me honey."

"How? Like...'oh, honey, that shirt is divine on you!' Or boyfriend kind of 'honey'?"

"Boyfriend kind of 'honey.' Mom, I think he's in love with me, too. It's the way he looks at me and touches me, and...I just can't explain it. I just hate this place without him in it. I'm so lonely without him already. I've never felt like this before. About anybody."

"He sounds special."

That admission from my mother put a big smile on my face.

"He's the one, Mom. He has to be. I can't picture being without him."

"When is he seeing you again?"

"His schedule is unpredictable," I said.

"Oh-oh."

"No, that's what I thought, too. I thought he was dumping me. But the way he kissed me after he said that, I'm just not worried about that anymore."

"When is he seeing you again?" she repeated. Apparently, she didn't want the details of the oral swabbing he'd given me, nor did she consider that any sort of proof of his intentions. I guess you had to be there.

"Wednesday for lunch. He asked for Tuesday, but I was busy. But if his schedule permits, we'll see each other sooner."

"At least you have another date set up."

"I made him a lunch to take on his stake-out, and he really liked that."

"Timmy, you're a handsome man, and you're very sweet and thoughtful. Why shouldn't he like you and appreciate what you do? Just remember that."

"I will, Mom. Thanks. So what's up with you?" I asked, and I knew that would set her off on a long dissertation about family and Dad, and other things that were going on in her life, and that was okay. I was feeling a little blue without Don there, and she usually cheers me up. Plus, I owed her some talk time that centered on something besides me and my love life.

After I hung up, I folded the throw and turned out the lights. It was getting late. I took the few remnants of snacks we had left on the coffee table to the kitchen, and after turning out the lights, I got ready for bed and turned in. I spent a long time looking at the side Don had occupied, and then I grabbed one of those pillows and tucked it under my head, breathing in the faint trace of his cologne that clung to the pillowcase. The phone rang, startling me a little, since it was after eleven.

"Hello?"

"Hi, there, beautiful. Miss me?" It was Don.

"As a matter of fact, I do," I replied. "Where are you?"

"Watching my client's house."

"No action yet, huh?"

"I'm beginning to think the guy's paranoid. No action yet."

"At least the storms have let up."

"Yeah, that's a break for the good guys. If I have to get out and snap photos, at least I won't be electrocuted doing it."

"Don't even joke about that."

"Sorry," he said, chuckling. "The food was good," he said, and I remembered the sandwich. "I saved the cookies in case I'm here into the wee hours."

"It's a long time until Wednesday."

"Yeah, too long. We'll figure something out. I wish I could have stayed."

"Me, too, but I know you have to work."

"Now I'm going to be even more annoyed if she doesn't get it on with somebody by dawn."

"Well, there's still time for her to redeem herself with you, and destroy her marriage," I said, and he laughed.

"Weird business, this PI thing," he said.

"I like your cologne."

"Huh?"

"The cologne you were wearing last night. I can still smell a little of it on your pillow."

"My pillow, huh?"

"Yes. Your pillow. On your side of the bed," I added, and I could hear a little indrawn breath.

"Making love to you is going to be something very special, Timothy," he said softly.

"I feel the same way," I replied, feeling that weird ache in my heart that was a combination of love and longing.

"I'll call you tomorrow. Get some sleep."

"Stay safe, honey," I said, hoping he'd like to hear the endearment from me as much as I loved hearing it from him. I wanted to say 'I love you,' but it seemed such monumental words should have a more meaningful moment to frame them.

"Goodnight," he said, his voice soft as a whisper on a shared pillow. And then he was gone, and the dial tone was intruding on all that romantic softness. I hung up the phone and buried my face in his pillow, smiling as I dozed off to sleep.

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