| Donald Strachey Mysteries :
Office Space
Office Space
Rating: PG
Summary: Five times Timmy visited Donald's office
Spoilers: Um, Donald has an office? And I guess a picture in his office.
Warning: Squishy
Thanks to pollitt for beta and expert pimping. This is all her fault, really.
*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~
Office Space
by Maverick
-1-
Timmy walked Donald forward, his hands covering Donald's eyes as they made their way down the hallway. He stopped in front of a door and kissed the top of Donald's head. "Keep your eyes closed," he said as he removed his hands and opened the door.
Donald tilted his head back and made kissing sounds with his lips. "I'm gonna need some incentive to keep them closed."
"You're incorrigible, you know that," Timmy said, leaning down and kissing him.
Donald smiled, his eyes still closed as instructed. "That's why you love me."
Timmy didn't argue the point as he walked them through the threshold of the door and flipped on the light. "Okay, now you can open them."
Donald looked around the big empty room. Paint was peeling off the walls and the one lone plant in the corner had given up the ghost a long time ago. The floorboards creaked as they walked further inside, and the blinds on the one window were hanging askew, attached only at one corner. "Let me guess, you've met someone new and you're kicking me to the curb. Or in this case, this room with bad lighting all the way across town."
Timmy slapped Donald's arm like he was scandalized by that suggestion. "Donald It's an office."
Donald turned back to look at Timmy, who was still brimming with excitement. It was one of his favorite looks on him. He stepped closer and wrapped his arm around Timmy's waist, his fingers stroking his hip. "Sweetheart, I'm still not getting it."
Timmy hmphed — which also happened to be a favorite looks of Donald's. "And you call yourself a detective. "It's *your* office, honey."
"My office?"
"Yes for Donald Strachey Investigations. With the amount of business you're getting now, you can't keep working out of the house. You need an office."
Donald smiled, wide and pure. Even after all these years, Timmy could still surprise him in the best possible ways. He cupped Timmy's face in his hands and kissed him. "You got me an office?"
Timmy nodded his head and turned Donald around so he faced the interior of the room again. "Well yes, 'got' as in I paid for the first three months. After that you're on your own. But can't you see it? We'll clean the place of course and decorate. And we'll have someone paint 'Donald Strachey Investigations' on the window so you can see it from the street."
"And on the door."
Timmy nodded. "Yes, and on the door. Oh, I almost forgot." He rummaged around in his coat pockets until he pulled out a small bundle of business cards that were imprinted with 'Donald Strachey Investigation' with the address of the office and Donald's cell phone number. He handed them to Donald. "We'll do a bigger batch once we get your phone service hooked up, so we can add the office number as well."
Donald pulled Timmy into a tight hug and nuzzled behind his ear. "Thank you. Have I mentioned lately that I love you?"
Timmy tilted his head like he was thinking about. "No, not lately."
"Well I do."
Timmy smiled bright. "I love you too."
~*~*~*~*~*~
-2-
Donald burst through his office door — not even bothering to look around — and threw the plastic bag down on the desk. "You'd think as a gay man, I'd know a thing or two about something called ballcocks, but apparently they come in several shapes and sizes. I told the hardware guy, it was an old toilet so he suggested this model. If it doesn't work, you can take it back and exchange it because I'm done."
It wasn't until Timmy was thrusting a perfectly chilled martini into his hand that Donald noticed that the lights were even dimmer than normal, there was jazz playing on the CD boombox in the corner and that candles were lit all round.
Donald watched Timmy's eyes twinkle with amusement as Donald finally caught a clue that he'd been had. Some detective he was.
"I thought we should celebrate the launch of Donald Strachey Investigations' new office. Congratulations, honey."
Donald clinked his glass against Timmy's. "Just so we're clear. The ballcock thing was all a ruse?"
Timmy smiled. "Yes. But it never hurts to keep an extra one around."
Donald sat down on the edge of his desk. "How'd you manage to get this all set up in such a short amount of time?"
Timmy waggled his eyebrows. "I have my ways. Now, I have one more surprise for you to formally christen your new office."
Donald pulled Timmy to him by his belt loops until he was standing between Donald's legs. "I could get behind some christening."
Timmy leaned in and kissed Donald indulgently. "Hold that thought." Timmy handed Donald his martini glass and walked to the small closet and pulled out a flat box wrapped with big red bow.
Donald set both glasses on the desk as Timmy brought the box to him.
"I was saving this for Christmas, but I decided it would work even better here in your office."
Donald ripped off the wrapping in the impatient, chaotic way that always drove Timmy a little nuts. But he looked up to find his lover smiling at him, his expression just a little shy.
"I hope you like it, honey."
Inside was a large black and white picture of them dancing. It was a close up on their faces that perfectly showcased just how ass over tea kettle in love they were with each other. It looked like it had been taken at their favorite jazz bar. Donald ran his thumb across Timmy's smile on the picture. "Where did you get this? It's amazing."
"You remember when Clint was taking pictures at the club a few months back. He emailed me the proof because he thought we were 'just too damn cute for words.' When I saw it, I kind of had to agree with him. Do you like it?"
Donald let his hand run across the glass reverently one last time before setting the picture carefully on the ground. "I love it." He pulled Timmy to him once more and wrapped his arms around Timmy's neck pulling him down for a kiss. "And I love you. Thank you, sweetheart."
"You're welcome. I figured it was a subtle way to let all your new clients know that while you are the hottest private investigator in town, you are also very much taken."
Donald laughed and leaned in for another kiss. "Yes, I am. Happily taken." He stood up, pulling Timmy flush against his body. "Dance with me?"
Timmy nodded and smiled down at Donald. "I'd thought you'd never ask."
Donald was pretty sure the smiles they were wearing now perfectly matched the ones in the picture. It really was a good look on them.
~*~*~*~*~*~
-3-
Timmy's arms were around him before the door to his office clicked closed. He felt so damn numb. He let himself be pulled to the floor and gathered up into a tight embrace, his head against Timmy's chest. He let the steady rhythm of Timmy's heartbeat anchor him as he let go of the emotions he had been keeping so tightly in check. "He was just a kid, Timmy. Six years old."
Timmy cradled his head, kissing his forehead. "I know baby, I know. I'm so sorry."
He let Timmy comfort him for a few moments, but it wasn't long before Donald was vibrating with anger. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to trash the office or ram his car against a wall. He wanted to revive the motherfucker just so he could kill him again and this time not let it be so easy or quick as a bullet through the heart. He felt Timmy tighten his grip on him like he knew exactly what Donald was thinking. And knowing Timmy, he probably did. Not for the first time, he wondered how the hell he'd ever make it through life without this man at his side. He hugged Timmy tighter and prayed he never had to find out.
Timmy tilted Donald's head up so he was looking him in the eye. "You got him though, Donald. You need to remember that. You got him and he won't hurt anyone else ever again."
Donald let his eyes fill with tears. "It's not enough though. It's not nearly enough."
Timmy wiped the tears off Donald's face with his thumbs. "I know it's not honey, but it's something."
Donald nodded, burrowing his head against Timmy's chest and just held on.
~*~*~*~*~*~
-4-
Timmy hadn't even shut the office door before Donald was out of his chair and reaching for Timmy's bag.
"Finally."
Timmy sighed. "Nice to see you too, honey."
"Sorry." Donald kissed Timmy's cheek as he stepped into the new pair of pants that Timmy had brought him. "Do you have any idea how cold it is outside?"
"Yes, I do. That's why I wore pants to work today."
When he finished zipping up his pants, Donald nudged Timmy's chin with his thumb before he leaned in and kissed him. "Very funny."
Timmy smiled. "Do I want to know why you didn't just use the extra pair you keep in the car for times like these?"
Donald put his wallet and keys into his pants pockets. It was proof that Timmy was a much better man than he was because he would have mocked a person who managed to ruin or downright lose their pants as often as he did. All in all though, Donald figured it was one of the more benign hazards of P.I. work. At least on days when it wasn't ten degrees outside.
Timmy walked over to the window and looked outside. "Actually I didn't see the car out front. Where is it?"
Shit. The jig was up. Donald sidled up to Timmy and wrapped his arm around his waist. He looked up at him with what Timmy called his puppy-dog eyes. "It might have gotten towed."
Timmy cocked an eyebrow. "Might have?"
"Okay, it did get towed."
"Donald. How many times have I told you that your disregard for handicap parking would catch up with you eventually?"
Donald shrugged. "What can I say. You were right."
Timmy bumped Donald's hip with his own. "It's about time you realized that."
Turning, Donald took Timmy's face in his hands, kissing him sweetly. "Hi."
"Hi."
"My cold ass and I thank you for bringing me my pants."
Timmy reached down and grabbed the ass in question. "Well I do have a vested interest in your assets."
Donald groaned at the pun and bumped his forehead against Timmy's shoulder. "Timothy."
Timmy laughed. "What? I don't want all of Albany seeing my partner running around in his underwear. That's my perk. Thank you very much."
Donald nipped at Timmy's ear. "You got time for lunch?"
"Sure. And I brought another pair of pants for you. You know in case you run into some renegade soup or something."
Donald herded Timmy out the door. "Ha-ha. Promise me you'll stick with politics, honey. We couldn't afford to keep me in pants if you tried to make it as a comedian."
~*~*~*~*~*~
-5-
The door to Donald's office burst open and the kidnapper was literally knocked out on the floor before he knew what — or rather — who had hit him.
Donald made his way over to his desk where Timmy was currently tied up. He kneeled in front of him and steeled his hands — which had been shaking— so he could gently remove the gag from Timmy's mouth. He took a deep breath as his eyes cataloged the bruise across Timmy's cheekbone and the small gash above his eye. Leaning forward, he kissed Timmy's temple. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"
Timmy nodded. "Just a little tied up at the moment."
Donald had to kiss him for that. "Hang on. Let me find my knife." Donald rifled through his desk drawer. Finding it, Donald started cutting the ropes across Timmy's torso and began removing the ropes around his arms.
"I told him."
Donald stopped what he was doing and looked up at Timmy. "You told him what?"
Timmy eyes were filled with mirth and Donald knew everything was going to be okay. "I told him, you're the only one who gets to tie me up."
They shared knowing smiles as Donald kissed him once more.
Finally free, Timmy wrapped his arms around Donald. "I explained that if anyone else does it, it just makes you cranky, but he wouldn't listen."
Donald would file it more under it filled him with murderous rage, but Timmy was safe in his arms, so he guessed the asshole on the floor got to live another day. "Cranky huh?"
"Yes, cranky. And I told him that while I have grown to appreciate the vast spectrum of Donald Strachey moods, he most certainly would not."
Donald pulled Timmy to his feet. "That's when he gagged you wasn't it?"
Timmy pursed his lips. "Maybe."
Donald cupped Timmy's face in his hands and kissed him again. This time, long and with intent, letting the pull and catch of Timmy's lips against his own settle him down. He could finally let the 'Timmy is fine' mantra he'd been running in his head fade away as his body relaxed against the solid presence of his lover. After a few minutes, he pulled back and narrowed his eyes at Timmy. "Timothy? Did you just call me moody?"
Timmy kissed Donald's jaw. "Honey, you know I think all that brooding intensity works for you." Timmy let his eyes run the length of Donald's body. "And lord knows, it certainly works for me. But yes, happy-go-lucky will never be your middle name."
Donald hopped up on his desk and spread his legs, pulling Timmy flush against him, his hands massaging Timmy's shoulders. "I guess I can't really argue with that." He cocked an eyebrow. "Bub should be here soon with the Calvary. You wanna freak him out a little?"
That was all the encouragement that Timmy needed to press Donald backward against the desk. Timmy nuzzled his way across Donald's jaw to his ear. "Well as you know, I'm really not one to shirk my civic duties."
Donald's laughter and his hand on Timmy's ass greeted Bub as he burst through the door.
—FIN—
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