Title: JUST ANOTHER NEW YEAR'S EVE

Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries (movieverse)

Pairing: Donald and Timothy

Rating: R, language 

Word Count: About 5100

References/Spoilers: Nothing major.

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: Donald's late again and plans go awry; the boys make resolutions.

******************************************************************************

JUST ANOTHER NEW YEAR'S EVE

by

Candy Apple

I adjusted my bow tie and turned to one side, and then the other, checking out my tux. Not too shabby for an old man, I thought, laughing at myself. I'd been pretty unfazed by turning 40 (and, uh, passing it a bit), but everything gets a little harder to keep trim, sags a little more, and is at a bit more risk for being wrinkled and not taut once you pass that milestone. Of course, the way Donald goes after me like I'm the hottest thing on legs doesn't hurt my self image too much. I suppose as long as we're slapping our flab and wrinkles on each other when we're old and still getting a kick out of it, aging is nothing to worry about.

I smiled when I thought about how Don would react to me in my tux. Even though his primary goal was usually getting me out of whatever outfit I was wearing, he always gave me a very appreciative visual inspection when I was dressed up, and never shortchanged me on compliments.

I checked my watch, trying to hold onto such sweet, loving thoughts of my partner when said partner was already running at least an hour past when he was supposed to be home to get ready for Senator Platt's New Year's Eve party. It was past eight, which was the start time of the party. Though I didn't have official hosting duties, I'm always a sort of co-host when the senator entertains at home and a good number of influential supporters are on the guest list.

Taking a deep breath and willing myself not to get annoyed, I called Don's cell. And again, it rang several times until it went to voicemail.

"Don, it's me. I'm getting worried. We're really going to be late. Call me." I broke the connection and sighed. Part of me wanted to impress upon Don just how completely he was screwing up this New Year's Eve being so late, but I always hesitate to do that. I have the awful image in my mind of something bad happening to Don in his line of work, and the last words he heard from me being a vigorous scolding on his voicemail.

The key turned in the lock downstairs and the front door opened.

"Thank God," I muttered, a little more resolved to do some scolding now that Donald was back home, alive. At least for now. I hurried downstairs, and froze on the bottom step.

Don was still leaning against the front door, breathing hard, his face bruised and bloodied, blood drippings on his shirt and suit coat. There was no sign of his winter coat.

"Oh, my God, Donald, what happened?" I finally broke free of the shock, going to his side, starting to inventory his bruises and determining where the blood was coming from. It was mostly his nose, since a splotch of it had dried there, but some of it was from his mouth, and there was another cut on his forehead that I hoped didn't need stitches, because if Don was breathing unassisted, he'd fight going anywhere near the hospital.

He gave me a look, as if it should be obvious what happened. He was in pain, so I didn't take offense at his thorniness. "Come on, honey, let's get you the rest of the way inside and warmed up."

"You look so beautiful," Don said, looking up at me through bruised, swollen eyes, his irritated expression disappearing, and somehow, actually finding a way to smile. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he added.

The compliment moved me, but the apology broke my heart.

"Oh, baby, it doesn't matter." I gathered him carefully into a hug, not wanting to hurt him, but knowing sometimes that was the best medicine for whatever it was that ailed him, from a bad head cold to getting his bell rung by some pissed off client or some other seedy character he was following around.

"I'll get blood on you," Don objected feebly, but his head was going down on my shoulder at the same time the words came out. The tux could be cleaned or tossed out. Don couldn't be replaced. It had been a couple years since the last time he'd crawled in the house in such an awful condition. He was getting...tamer as he got older, for lack of a better word. Though I don't wish away any part of our life together, every blow he's suffered hurt me emotionally, bruised my soul because I love him so much that I feel his pain, at least in whatever way that's possible.

"Wouldn't be the first body fluid you've gotten on my tuxes," I teased, and Don snorted a bit at that, returning the hug weakly. "You're shaking."

"It's cold out there," he mumbled against my shoulder.

"I'll get a fire going and turn up the heat. Can you walk all right?"

"Yeah, everything just hurts. I don't think anything big is broken."

I steered him to the couch and guided him to sit down there. Don's head slumped back on the couch, and he groaned.

"Would it do me any good to tell you I think we should go to the ER?"

I know he knows himself pretty well, and sadly, he's been beaten up enough to know when things are broken or not, but I always fear that undiscovered internal injury or some other issue that might come in the dark of night and threaten his life. Well, I had planned to be up most of the night anyway, so I would just spend it tending him and watching him for any signs of trouble. I knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.

"Absolutely none. I might be a mess, but if you try to make me go to the ER on New Year's Eve, I swear to God I'll use whatever strength I have left to run screaming down the road."

"Enough said." I touched Don's hair lightly and kissed the unmarred part of his forehead. "Just rest. I'll take care of you, honey." I covered him with a throw to get him warmed up and then turned up the thermostat and started a fire. I took off my tuxedo jacket and tie and tossed them aside, rolling up my sleeves. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" I asked as I gathered supplies I was too experienced assembling.

"You don't want to hear it, trust me," Don replied, his voice sounding strained and weary.

"I do if you want to talk about it." I set the first aid kit and a large bowl of warm soapy water on the coffee table. I had a few cloths and towels over my arm that I laid there with the supplies. Then I grabbed a glass of water and a small bowl and added them to my collection.

"It'll just make you mad." His tone of voice reminded me of a little kid who didn't want to tell his parents something for fear of incurring their wrath. He needed cleaning up and his sore spots needed tending, but there was something else he needed more. I sat next to him and eased him close, holding him.

"I'm already mad, baby, but not at you. Never at you for something like this. I would, however, like to spend a few minutes with the animals who did this to you."

"Yeah, well, technically, I was somewhere I shouldn't have been, so I can't call the cops."

"That didn't give anyone license to...attack you this way. If you were somewhere you shouldn't be, and you got caught, they should have called the police on you."

"Crooks don't do that. I was following a guy...have been for a couple weeks, and I knew he was into something shady, but I wasn't sure what, and the case was going nowhere." He seemed to need a break from talking, so we sat there quietly a few minutes, him bleeding on my shirt and me rubbing a small part of his upper back that didn't seem to hurt.

"It's okay, honey. I know sometimes this comes with the territory."

"It was illegal gambling...I climbed in through an unlocked window in the back of this house I followed him to - turned out to be a bookie joint - and I guess I got careless. I thought they were gonna kill me, but I fortunately they were satisfied with this, because they dumped me a few blocks away when they were done, and told me I better forget what I saw."

"I don't suppose it would do any good to suggest we call Bailey?"

"I could lose my license or get arrested for breaking and entering. Even if they did time, I'd be in trouble, too."

"Okay." I didn't like the fact Don did something illegal, but I knew perfectly well that a lot of people in his line of work found out what they were hired to find out by sneaking around where they weren't supposed to be. "Let's get you patched up a little, and then we'll get you in a warm bath and into bed." Earlier in our marriage, I would have reacted differently, scolded Don for putting himself in danger and in a situation where he couldn't report his own injuries. All that did was make Don suffer more when he was already in pain and probably knew better than anyone else that he'd made a mistake. So instead, I still held him in my arms and tried to counter all the violence he'd been through with all the love I could show him.

"Some New Year's Eve for you," he mumbled against my shoulder. "Me bleeding on your shirt," he raised up a little. "Shit, I'm getting you all messed up."

"Eh, it's kind of like those credit card commercials - fancy shirt, $200. Holding the man you love on New Year's Eve - priceless." I kissed Don's cheek and smiled at him. "What do you think I'd rather do tonight? Go stand around in a tux by myself at the senator's party, or hold you in my arms at midnight, even if you're stuffed with ibuprofen and half asleep by then?" I watched the biggest smile that could cut through the bruising and swelling spread across his face.

"Ow," he muttered, touching his mouth. I carefully eased his lower lip back. It wasn't pretty. His teeth had gone partially into it, leaving it swollen and bloody.

"That must hurt like hell," I said, soaking a cloth in the water, tucking a towel into his collar so I didn't get him wet while I washed his face. I had him rinse out his mouth a couple times and spit into the little bowl I had handy for just that purpose. I examined the damage in his mouth again, and it wasn't bleeding much at all, just oozing a little.

I let him lean against me and kept my arm around him while I worked. He seemed more shaken by this than he used to be, and the thought occurred to me that maybe he wasn't feeling up to being pummeled senseless and bouncing back from it the way he did ten years earlier.

And I was worried about age putting too much under my cummerbund.

I had two ice bags handy, and I urged him to put his head back on the couch so he could put one on each eye. The swelling was getting bad enough to make him squint. The cut on his forehead had stopped bleeding, so all I needed was a little antibiotic ointment and a couple butterfly bandages.

His jaw was badly bruised, so I went to the kitchen to fill another ice bag. I hate that we have several of them, and there are times they're all in use. I returned to the couch and held that on his jaw. He took over that job, since gravity was keeping the other ice on his eyes.

"I should have just stuck my head in the freezer," he mumbled.

"You'll thank me later when you can see," I said, frustrated that even his knuckles were scraped and bruised, but I smiled at the same time. That meant he got a few good shots in himself.

"It feels good. No complaints."

"What did the other guys look like?" I teased, kissing the knuckles on his right hand. He laughed the best he could with his entire face iced and his body wracked with pain.

"Yeah, I really tore 'em up," he replied. "I got a couple decent swings in on the one guy before I noticed he had three friends."

"Those are fair odds," I said sarcastically. The cruelty and brutality of people, even criminals, sometimes still surprises me. I got a few ibuprofen capsules down him, giving him enough of the over the counter stuff to equate to a prescription dose. I hated that I knew that. That he'd been hurt so much since I knew him that if my political career tanked, I could hang out my shingle as an urgent care professional.

"Not sure what I'm gonna tell my client. Those fuckers saw my ID and know where I live, so if I blow the whistle on them, even to this guy's wife...I can't risk that."

"So you get pounded like this and don't even get paid?" I didn't care about the money, but he worked so hard for what he got, risked his life for it, and it seemed horrendously unfair that he could suffer like that and not even collect his pay.

"I don't want them showing up here one night when I'm working late. If I leave them alone, they'll leave me alone. We've both got something on each other."

"They let you keep your gun?" I was carefully unsnapping his holster, easing him up a bit so I could get it and his jacket off and then set the gun aside.

"Once they took the bullets, it wasn't much of a threat to them."

"It feels lighter," I said, laying the holster on the coffee table. When we first got together, just seeing that thing strapped to his body or hanging in its holster on the headboard or on the back of a door made me cringe. Now it was just part of him, part of our lives.

"I'm sorry you have to know the difference," he said, taking my hand, lacing our fingers together. "I know you hate guns."

"A gun is only an object unless it's in the wrong hands," I said, kissing his hand. "Ready to tackle the trek upstairs?"

"No, but rumor has it there's going to be a tub full of warm water up there, and I'm hoping I can talk my partner into sharing it with me."

"We'll take it slow, honey," I said, standing, then very gently giving him the pull he needed to get on his feet again. I knew by the way he winced and the grip he had on my hand that he was in a lot of pain. Don's not a crybaby, and he has a high threshold for pain, so I knew I probably wasn't going to like what I saw when I got his clothes off.

He had a hard time navigating the long staircase to the second floor, but we got there, and I started the bath and stripped quickly and put on my robe.

"I wish they hadn't kicked me in the nuts. I'd be really excited about now," he joked, but it fell flat for me. All I could think of was if he might be injured, if something was damaged...

He just sat on the side of the bed and let me undress him. His body was a mass of bruises coming to technicolor life almost before my eyes. My eyes filled up, and there were tears on my cheeks by the time I got him completely naked.

"I'll be okay," he said, touching my hair as I crouched in front of him, taking off his shoes and socks. He stood, and stepped out of his pants and underwear. His shorts were wet, and he didn't seem to be able to look me in the eyes. I understood it, but my heart ached for him. As badly as he'd been beaten, and the kick he'd taken, it was no wonder his body hadn't been able to take it without losing its hold on things. But to him, it was a failing of his toughness.

I took off my robe and laid it aside. I thought maybe if we were both naked, he'd feel less self-conscious. Not that we have anything to feel self-conscious about with each other after all this time together, but his dignity had taken a bit of a beating, and I wanted to handle that with the same gentleness I used on his body.

Once he was in the warm bath, I got into the tub with him. Washing him consisted mainly of just getting a soapy sponge loaded with water and squeezing it, letting the water run over him instead of rubbing at his bruises. There was dried blood in his hair, so I got behind him and shampooed it, then toweled it dry while we soaked.

"I'm really sorry about fucking up the party for you, sweetheart," he said. "I didn't think anything like this would happen. I just...screwed up, I guess."

"You're human. You're entitled to a misjudgment once in a while."

"This was a bad one. A stupid one."

"You were in a hurry, trying to wrap something up you normally would have analyzed more carefully," I said, laying the towel aside, adjusting his soft blond hair with my fingers. I love playing with his hair. It's like gold silk. I was trying to distract myself from the truth of what I'd just said. He was worried about standing me up for that damn party, and I knew perfectly well he'd been trying to rush the situation to a conclusion so he could satisfy his client and satisfy me at the same time.

"I wanted to be home early enough to take you to the party," he admitted. "But I've snuck into places like that before and found out what I needed to wrap up a case."

"But you didn't really scope this one out as carefully as you would have if you weren't watching the time."

"No, I s'pose not," he said.

"Even if I get mad that you miss something I wanted you to be with me for, you know that your safety is more important to me than any event, right?" I kissed his wet shoulder.

"I know. You were really looking forward to it, and I was, too. Senator Platt throws a great New Year's Eve party, even if there are politicians there."

"You're married to a politician, honey. Don't make it sound like having leprosy," I joked, hugging him carefully from behind, kissing the cute little ear that peeked out from under his hair.

"Present company excepted," he added, smiling a bit.

After we dried off, I got him into a warm pair of pajamas and socks, and propped him up in bed. I had a few provisions to gather for our revised New Year's Eve together.

"Why don't you find us something to look at while I get us a few supplies from downstairs?" I suggested, handing him the TV remote.

"Timothy, I'm really sorry about tonight. I didn't mean to - "

"It's okay, honey." I sat on the side of the bed and kissed him as carefully as I could. "I know you didn't mean for this to happen, and I'm just glad you're home and safe now."

"You used to get so mad when I'd fuck up our plans," he said, smiling at me fondly. Like my ripping him a new one was cute, and made him smile when he remembered it. I wonder if anyone deserves to be loved that much, that even when they act like an ass, their partner remembers it like it was cute. The other possibility was that my wrath wasn't nearly as scary as I prided myself that it was. His next comment alleviated that concern. "Made getting beaten up look better by comparison," he added. The fact he was trying to push my buttons was a good sign.

"Don't think you won't have to make up for this," I said. "Expensive dinner out, dancing," I kissed him again. "Making love until dawn."

"Oh, yeah, punish me, why don't you?" he joked. "Sounds rough."

"And you have to buy me flowers."

"Shit. Oh, all right," he agreed.

"Maybe candy. I haven't decided yet."

"How about a box of Godiva chocolates?"

"Maybe some chocolate covered pretzels."

"Really? You realize they're not healthy just because there's a pretzel inside, right?"

"Let me have my delusion," I objected, taking his hand in both of mine. "I was just thinking...this is our eleventh New Year's Eve as a couple."

"Twelfth."

"No, eleventh," I insisted.

"We went out on New Year's Eve, 1999. I remember it very specifically, because of all the Y2K shit, and everybody playing that Prince song until I thought I'd blow my brains out."

"But we weren't together yet."

"We were as far as I was concerned. Why, were you seeing someone else?" he asked, as if it would have been infidelity if I had. We'd met in November, and while we were dating pretty regularly over those holidays, nobody had a ring on anybody's finger yet. I let him off the hook. He'd been through enough that night.

"I stopped shopping when I found what I wanted," I said, kissing his hand.

"I kept staring at you that whole night. God, you were so hot. I figured if the world ended, that was okay, because I was never gonna find a better guy to be with." 

"I couldn't believe how handsome you looked in a tux," I said, remembering just how well Don had cleaned up for that black tie event at an upscale conference center. He was a knockout - he still is - and he never really thinks of himself that way. My muscular blue-eyed blond who's all soft and sweet and sentimental on the inside. What a lucky man I am.

"So we can call it our twelfth, then?"

"Yes, you've effectively argued your case," I said, laughing.

"Wow, that from the captain of the high school debate team."

"Here. Find us a New Year's Eve show before you get yourself in trouble. I'll be right back."

I cleaned things up downstairs, trying not to think about the blood on the cloths, even though the smell of it and the sight of it made me queasy. Not because I can't handle the sight of blood, or have never cleaned up Don's before, but because of the pain it represented for the man I loved so dearly. I didn't expect the wave of nausea, or to throw up in the kitchen sink. I was shaking, and I started to cry. There was so much blood, three ice bags, his jacket with more blood on it, and he was lying upstairs bruised and battered and barely able to move around.

I leaned on the sink and rode out the wave of emotion. I didn't want to get upstairs and have Don see that I'd been crying. He had enough on his dish to deal with, without me giving him a full-scale meltdown.

I almost jumped straight up in the air when I felt a hand on my shoulder, his warm presence behind me. I was glad he was there, and yet it moved me so deeply that he'd made the painful trek back downstairs because he thought I needed him, that it made me even more emotional.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I'm all right," he said, touching my hair.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, turning and taking him in my arms, very gingerly. "There's so much blood, and they hurt you so badly..."

"No, I'm sorry, honey. I'm sorry you had to deal with all this tonight."

"I don't care about New Year's Eve," I sobbed against his shoulder. "I care about you."

"I know." He was quiet a minute. "Maybe it's time for a new beginning," he added.

"What do you mean?" I pulled back a little, smiling when he handed me a couple paper napkins he'd grabbed off the counter. His bruises looked so horrible and so painful in the kitchen light, but he was taking care of me, worrying about me. I kissed the big purple bruise on his cheek.

"I mean...I'm gonna be more careful."

"This wasn't your fault."

"It kind of was, because I wasn't as careful as I should have been. And I knew the guy I was following was into something shady. Honestly, getting in the middle of this wasn't worth the retainer. She thought he was having an affair. I could have just as easily told her he wasn't, that if she wanted to nail him for whatever he was into, she could call the cops to pick it up from there."

"Are you serious? You'd be satisfied doing that, not jumping into the middle of it yourself?"

"I'm not a kid anymore...maybe it's time to stop pushing my luck so much. And, there's this beautiful man waiting for me at home who hurts for me whenever I do something stupid and get the crap beaten out of me." He looked into my eyes and smiled. "I wanna grow old with you, and I'd rather do it in one piece, not drooling down my chin because I got my head smacked in once too often."

"I don't want you to give up doing what you love because of me."

"I'm not gonna do that. I'll just pull it back a little, so my chances of living to retirement get better, and you don't have to glue me back together as much."

"That makes this the best New Year's Eve of my whole life," I said, and I could barely get the words out past the lump in my throat. "I love you so much," I added.

"I know you do. And for years you've stood by me, and with some grumbling, put up with all this. So that's my new year's resolution this year."

"You know I'll stand by you for the rest of our lives, no matter what you do. Grumbling not withstanding," I added, giving him a bit of a look, since he'd slid that in there so deftly. Yes, I did grumble sometimes, but mostly because I love him and I worry about him.

"I know that," he said, doing his best to smile. "Motherfucker," he mumbled angrily, touching his swollen lip. It had to be killing him every time he smiled.

"That's my baby," I said, laughing, hugging him gently.

"So what's yours?"

"My what?" I was so glad to hold him, and so happy about what he'd said, that I didn't really think about the question.

"Your new year's resolution?"

"I had made some tiresome resolution about giving up chocolate covered pretzels and working out more."

"Eat your pretzels and sit on your ass. You look fantastic, sweetheart. And I'll help you work out. I always do," he added, trying for a lecherous look under all the swelling. I had to laugh at that.

"My new resolution is to make the most of every evening we have together, and not drag you to as many events you can't stand on the evenings we do have."

"You can still drag me to a few. Goes with the territory, and I get to see you all dolled up," he joked, tugging on the lapels of my robe.

"I could make us smoothies. It might settle my stomach and it'll keep you from feeling nauseous from the ibuprofen."

"This must be how old people celebrate New Year's."

"I think there are board games and big band music involved, too," I quipped, and he snorted.

"Okay, not that old."

"This is how middle aged people in love do it." I kissed his forehead.

"Do it? God, I wish they hadn't kicked me in the nuts."

"You'll make up for lost time in a few days, honey," I said, smiling, gathering the supplies for our smoothies.

We sat in bed with our smoothies, our slightly sour stomachs, and some New Year's Eve special on the TV. Right before the ball dropped, Barry Manilow was signing "It's Just Another New Year's Eve".

But it wasn't just another one for me. I had the love of my life in my arms, safe and sound when things could have gone so much more horribly wrong, and he was going to be more careful. I knew that, like most resolutions, he probably wouldn't keep it entirely, but the thought that he'd try made me happy, anyway. And, as an election year heated up, I knew perfectly well I'd fall off the wagon a bit, too, and drag him to more fundraisers and events than he wanted to attend. Still, I was determined to try to keep my end of the bargain the best I could.

As my stomach settled down, I nibbled out of a bag of chocolate covered pretzels and shared gentle kisses with Don until we saw in the New Year. Shortly after midnight, he was snoring softly on my shoulder. We were still propped up and there was a light on I couldn't reach without waking him, but I let all that slide. None of it mattered. I rested my head against his and let myself doze.

My love and a bag of chocolate covered pretzels. If this was how old people celebrated, then growing old was going to be just fine with me.