Title: Love Knots
Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries (movieverse)
Pairing: Donald and Timothy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2038

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: Donald's frustration at the mall means Timothy gets exactly what he wants most for his birthday.

Author's Note: The jewelry collections mentioned in the story can be viewed at these links: http://www.fredmeyerjewelers.com/Browse/SearchResults.aspx?SearchText=one%20love&SearchCategory=departments(fmj) (One Love) http://www.fredmeyerjewelers.com/Browse/SearchResults.aspx?SearchText=love%20knots&SearchCategory=departments(fmj) (Love Knots)

http://www.kay.com (Love's Embrace and Open Hearts)

When I found none of these collections had jewelry for guys, this story idea was born.

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LOVE KNOTS

by

Candy Apple

Tim yawned and forced his eyes open, squinting at the clock. It was a little past seven. It took him a moment to remember he had the day off. It was his birthday, and Donald promised they'd spend the day together. The other side of the bed was still undisturbed, and Tim sighed when he realized Donald hadn't been in it at all. He'd been out late working a case, but he was a man of his word, and he'd given Tim his word he would be with him for his birthday.

Rolling over, he hugged one of Donald's pillows and was about to close his eyes again when he spotted an envelope on Donald's night stand with Tim's name on it. It was large, like a greeting card. Smiling, Tim retrieved his glasses and put them on, grabbing the envelope and sitting up in bed, turning on the lamp on his night stand. He was anxious to read the card, since the ones Donald left for him to read alone always had the most heartfelt, beautiful messages inside. No matter how sweet, loving, and affectionate Donald could be, the one thing he wouldn't do was sit and watch Tim read a long, romantic message. It made him squirm with self-consciousness.

He carefully opened the envelope. The card inside the tan envelope was all shades of copper and bronze, with an abstract copper foil heart in the middle. <i>Happy Birthday to the Man I Love.</i>

Tim smiled, feeling like this card definitely started off on the right note. He opened it, and was thrilled to see that the entire inside was covered with Donald's handwriting. The printed verse itself was simple but lovely.

<i>Today is my favorite holiday of the year, because it's the day you came into the world. Happy Birthday with All My Love, Forever.</i>

He began to read Donald's handwritten message.

<i>Dearest Timothy,

I really wanted to get you something special, so I thought I'd get you one of those pieces of jewelry for lovers - you've seen the ads on TV - Love Knots, Open Hearts, Love's Embrace, One Love... There are a bunch of them. I guess they never really show men getting that jewelry, so I shouldn't have been surprised when I got to the mall and found out that none of those collections have anything for men. I guess it also wasn't the fault of the woman working in the jewelry store, though I'm afraid she caught the brunt of my frustration. I should probably send her the flowers I got for you. Oops. Hope you still like them even though they're not a surprise anymore.

I still got you something. It's downstairs. The more I thought about it, all that gimmicky jewelry can't touch what we've got.

Love Knots? The knot that binds us together is so much stronger than gold, than anything. It's the way our love wraps around us, the way my love for you wraps around your love for me, the way we fit together, tight, unbreakable. Knots can be untied, but our love is forever, and for better or worse, I'm all tangled up in you, sweetheart, so don't ever get the bright idea you can "untie" our knot.

Open Hearts? God knows, my heart wasn't very open for a long time, but when I met you, I had no defenses. You opened my heart, and then you moved in, and you're in every part of it. You fill it. You opened my eyes and my mind to so many things... you ARE my heart, honey.

Love's Embrace? There's no way some little twist of metal could capture what your embrace feels like to me. It feels like home. Like passion, when we're all hot and sweaty and naked and there's this explosion of love and sex and lust and desire and all sorts of things that I never felt all at the same time with anyone. Ever. It doesn't even matter who's on top, on the bottom, whether we're in the bedroom or the living room, or the garage... Do you remember that Saturday afternoon last summer, cleaning the garage, when we were all hot and sweaty, and we took a little "break" right there on an old blanket on the floor? We were already doing it behind a stack of cartons when you used an old umbrella to reach the button to put the door down without disturbing the rhythm.

It's so much more than that. In your arms is safety, warmth, my reason for being, the place I want most to be for the rest of my life, and the place I want to take my last breath. How do you express all that with a ring anyhow?

One Love? You're my one love, Timmy. The only one for the rest of my life. The only one who's ever really loved me the way you do. You make me believe that I must be something special, because I'm your one love, too. You could have anybody. Who wouldn't want you? I see the way men and women both check you out. You're so beautiful, when you walk into a room, you own it, and yet you don't even think about it. You don't even think about how gorgeous you are, or notice the eyes on you. And it's because you're looking at me. I have all your attention, because I'm your one love. Being your one love makes me a better man. I have a lot to live up to, having you all to myself.

At first, I felt really bad that I couldn't get you some trendy little piece of symbolic jewelry, but then I realized none of it really could capture us, how we are, the way we love each other. I know I can't find the right words, and you're the speech writer, after all. I've never been much of a writer, but writing about you is different. My favorite subject.

Come on downstairs when you're ready, honey. I'll make you breakfast, and then we can do whatever you want today. No cases, no interruptions, I promise. Just you and me, a whole day, and some birthday cake. (Don't be afraid - I didn't make it, I went to the bakery you like over by the Senate building.)

All my love,

Donald</i>

"Oh, Donald," he said, smiling, tears filling his eyes, making the words blur.

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Donald was busily organizing his breakfast-making supplies. It was true that he made fantastic omelets, but it was also true that he left the kitchen looking like a well-meaning little kid had been at work. Not that he didn't laboriously clean everything to meet Tim's standards of cleanliness when he was done, but the whole thing amused Tim to no end, and something about Donald up to his elbows in the mess was unbelievably endearing.

He'd kept the counter where they ate pristine and clear, except for a big vase of yellow and red roses.

Tim lingered a bit out of Donald's range of vision, watching him, smiling. Then, he really looked at his partner. Donald must have gotten home in the wee hours of the morning and not gone to bed to avoid waking Tim. He may have caught a little nap on the couch, but by the looks of his droopy eyes and rumpled hair, it wasn't enough. He was wearing an old robe that Tim remembered seeing in the laundry, so Donald must have rescued it from the laundry room rather than rummage through his things in their bedroom and wake Tim.

Before he could crack an egg, Tim made his presence known.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart!" Donald greeted, sounding a lot perkier than he looked.

"It sure is," Tim replied, pulling him into a hug, just holding onto him a moment. "I love my card, honey." He caressed the back of Donald's head, kissed his cheek.

"You can tell me what you want in your omelet. I've got all sorts of stuff."

"Look at me," Tim said, pulling back a little, framing Donald's face in his hands. "When did you get home?"

"I don't know. About four, I think."

"Oh, baby, you're almost asleep on your feet," Tim said sympathetically, kissing Donald's forehead. "You know what I want? I want to take you upstairs and hold you while you take a nice, long nap. Then we can get up later and have our omelets for brunch."

"I'm okay, Timmy. It's your birthday."

"When was the last time you slept more than an hour or two?"

"I guess a couple nights ago, before I started working the Brenner case."

"You said we could do whatever I wanted."

"That's right."

"I want to cuddle up in bed with the man who wrote me that beautiful card. You look so sleepy, honey." And he did. He actually looked a little pale, and when he'd held Donald in his arms, he could almost feel his partner's body relaxing against him, as if he could have dozed off to sleep right there on Tim's shoulder. But Donald had promised to celebrate, and he was prepared to follow through even if he felt like a zombie. "Is the omelet offer still good for later?"

"I <i>am </i>kind of tired," he admitted, stifling a yawn.

"The roses are beautiful," Tim said, pausing to inhale their sweet perfume.

"The yellow are for my best friend, and the red ones are for my one and only lover," he said, giving Tim one of those big smiles that lit up his face and everything else for a few miles around.

"Tell me about the case," Tim said, slipping a couple of perishable items into the refrigerator before steering Donald toward the steps. Donald told him how it was going, a little about what he and Kenny had gleaned from nearly three solid nights of surveillance work, and his voice held a note of pride when he talked about putting some of the money he was earning toward their vacation.

They climbed into bed, and Tim pulled Donald into his arms, his head on Tim's shoulder. Tim slipped his hand under the waistband of Donald's boxers and started rubbing his lower back. There was nothing erotic in the gesture, and he avoided letting his hand stray any lower. He knew how tired Donald's back got sitting in a cold car all night, and he'd been moving a little slowly on the stairs. He smiled at the purr of pleasure that came out warm against his skin. He elongated his strokes, giving Donald a gentle back rub that seemed to be putting him to sleep.

"There are no words for how much I love my card," Tim whispered, and the arm Donald had around his middle tightened a bit, and his mouth curved into a grin, even though he didn't open his eyes. "Is this a love knot or a love's embrace?" he asked, smiling, and he felt Donald's chuckle rumble in his belly where it was pressed against his own.

"Neither. It just feels like heaven right now," Donald replied, his voice almost slurred with impending sleep. "Don't let me sleep too late," he added.

"I won't, baby," Tim whispered, still rubbing Donald's back gently, savoring the warm weight of his lover's body against him. "Only until I get tired of holding you," he added, smiling, wondering if Donald could possibly sleep long enough for that to happen, and if he could possibly think of one single way he'd rather spend his birthday.

********

THE END