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

Word Count: 4096
References/Spoilers: Can't think of any, except reference to Timmy's employment.
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: A fantasy wedding becomes a bit more reachable, and seems a lot less important. Sequel to the story, "Just Him" in the One Night Series.

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PARADISE

by

Candy Apple

"You seem a bit distracted today, Donald," Mrs. Carrington said, sipping tea from a china cup that was worth more than my car. Of course, that wasn't saying much for her fancy dishes. We were working on her detective novel, and apparently my dialogue suggestions weren't sounding as hard-boiled or tough as they were supposed to.

"Wedding plans," I said, smiling. "I guess Joe wouldn't be fretting over buying that fancy ice sculpture his boyfriend wants," I joked, referring to the book's main character. She laughed.

"No, I suppose he wouldn't," she agreed. "Your parents aren't involved in the planning? Usually mothers tear their hair out over things like that. Mothers or favorite aunts with money," she added, winking.

"We were going to get married in Virginia, but there were some issues with Timothy's family, so we're planning it ourselves, here in Albany. His mother and some other relatives are still planning to come."

"It's not good for a Republican congressman to be planning his gay son's wedding so close to a re-election year," she said knowingly. "Don't look so surprised, dear. I have friends in DC. I've met Congressman Callahan and his wife at a couple of charity events there. They're a lovely couple, but he's known for upholding conservative family values and policies, and he's still trying to live down his daughter being a tree-hugging runaway."

"That's what people think of Tim's sister?"

"That's what the conservative crowd he runs around with, and who will most likely vote him back into office, think of Tim's sister. They may accept that he has a gay son, but having a big wedding with all the trimmings for that son and his male partner really wouldn't advance his career."

"And that's more important that hurting his son's feelings as much as he has."

"That's politics, Donald. It's a dirty business." She set her coffee aside and stood. I hoped I was that spritely at her age. "Come with me. I'd like to show you something."

She led the way through the elaborate mansion with its high ceilings, ornate chandeliers, antique furnishings and expensive art on the walls. We found ourselves at the back of the house, and I almost thought she was going to show me some kind of treasure out of a storage closet when she approached a set of double doors. When she pushed them open and flipped a few light switches, I stood there like a hillbilly in the big city. My jaw dropped, my eyes bugged, and it was all I could do not to exclaim "Gollllleeee!"

Beyond the doors lay the most beautiful, elaborate ballroom I've ever seen. Huge chandeliers hung from the ceiling, which itself was carved and ornately decorated. Full-length windows lined the outside wall, there was a spot for a small orchestra, several other spots where groupings of fancy antique furniture providing places for guests to sit.

"My husband and I had the rooms that were originally back here gutted, and built the ballroom and the banquet room that adjoins it." She led the way through the beautiful room, the low heels on her designer shoes clicking their way across the dance floor. For a moment, I had to smile, the whole thought of waltzing Timothy around that room making me wish I knew how to waltz.

She opened a large set of French doors that were flanked by full-length windows on each side, and turned on more lights. We were in a banquet room that outdid anything Tim and I had looked at for our wedding. It was ornate and elegant like the ballroom, lots of tables and chairs already in there. All it needed were table linens, centerpieces, and dishes, and you'd be ready to chow down in style.

"It's beautiful. You sure have the Hilton beat," I said, shaking my head. "I bet you've had some amazing parties in here."

"Ten family weddings, more charity events than I can recall at the moment. Countless family and social gatherings. Arthur and I loved to entertain, so we made good use of it." She paused. "Perhaps if you and Timothy had your wedding here, you could afford to buy him that ice sculpture he has his eye on," she added, smiling.

"We couldn't accept that and not pay you anything for it."

"Donald, will you look around you."

"I am. It's amazing. Timmy would just love this."

"Do you see anyone in here, using this?"

"No."

"If you look closely, you'll see a fine sheen of dust on everything. The chandeliers are due for cleaning. These rooms stand empty here week after week. I'm getting too old to hostess events on this scale. Frankly, since Arthur died, I haven't had much interest in it, even though I've put on a few charity fundraisers here. My children are grown and gone, and all my nieces are married. It costs me nothing for these rooms to be here, and I have an outstanding chef who has supervised the preparation of buffets and plated meals for many elegant parties."

"Tim's planning on a hundred and fifty people. He thinks that's not very big."

"It's modest," she said, smiling. "My chef can do the planning, and with some temporary kitchen and serving help, that's not so hard to handle. We had a charity ball for 200 here a few years back, and it went off without a hitch." She rubbed her bony, diamond encrusted hands together. "Right now, they're just big empty rooms I turn the heat off in because they're unused. I won't accept money. I don't need it. I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed our time together working on the book."

"You've paid me for that. I don't expect anything else."

"I know that. That's why I'd like to do it. You two are young and you're just starting out - Arthur was very wealthy and he came from a long line of old money, but he was my second husband. My first husband was a car salesman, and we didn't have two dimes to rub together, but we were in love," she added, smiling. "I remember more than once seeing him strain and scrimp to afford something to make me happy, and how hard it was for him when he couldn't give me what he thought I wanted, because my family was more comfortable than his was."

"Timothy doesn't really expect anything great from me in that department, which is a good thing at the moment."

"And that bothers you, because you want him to be happy, and you don't like seeing him settle for less than what he wants for your wedding."

"You would have made a good detective," I said, shaking my head.

"I have more money than I could spend in the years I have left. I would genuinely enjoy taking care of the location and the catering. And I promise, if you two have definite ideas about how you want things set up, I will respect that, and only offer suggestions if asked."

"I don't know what to say."

"Say yes, and then go get your boyfriend and bring him out here to show him where you're getting married."

********

"Donald, this is driving me crazy," Tim said as we drove through the city and toward the posh neighborhood where the Carrington Estate was located. "I thought we agreed we weren't going to move until we were in better shape financially."

"Who said anything about moving?" I asked, smiling.

"What else would we be doing? This is all residential out this way, and I might add, high end residential we can't afford. Are there even apartment complexes out here?"

"Honey, I'm not showing you new apartments."

"You kidnap me from my office, you won't tell me where we're going, and if I'd let you have your way, you would have blindfolded me for the trip."

"Oh, I'm glad you mentioned that. I almost forgot," I said, pulling over to the curb. He was gonna love this...not.

"You're not blindfolding me!" Tim protested.

"Where's your sense of romance and adventure? Now take off your glasses so I can put this on you."

"Donald - "

"Timothy, I'm trying to surprise you, and if I don't blindfold you, you're going to put me through 20 questions before we even get to where the surprise is."

"I'm only doing this because I love you." He took off his glasses and tucked them carefully in the breast pocket of his topcoat. I was trying hard not to bounce in my seat as I tied my tie around Timmy's eyes, a somewhat sloppy makeshift blindfold.

"You're sure you can't see anything?"

"Without my glasses, I can't see much anyway, so it's not likely I'm going to see much through two layers of your tie."

"Just be patient, honey. We're almost there," I said, amused by all his bluster. For all of it, I knew he'd love the surprise, and when he thought back on this later, he'd love all the hoopla of the blindfold and the whole mystery.

When they arrived at the Carrington Estate, I led Timmy up the front walk to the porch and rang the bell. When the housekeeper opened the door, she covered her mouth, suppressing a wide grin, and led us toward the ballroom.

"Mrs. Carrington said for you to take your time. She's in the living room if you'd like to see her when you're done," she whispered to me.

"Thank you."

"Donald, where are we? Who else is here?"

"Okay, okay, get your glasses handy," I said as we entered the ballroom. I removed the blindfold and Tim put on his glasses.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"What do you think of it?"

"What do I...? Well, it's just...breath-taking," he said, looking around at the full length windows, the ornate chandeliers, the high ceilings.

"What would you think of having our wedding and the reception here?"

"Donald, what's going on?"

"Timothy, I love your brilliant, nimble mind," I said, taking Timmy's face in my hands, "but please turn it off for a second and just tell me if you'd like to get married here."

"Who wouldn't want to be married in a place like this? It's stunning, like something out of an old movie...did you ever see Madame Bovary?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so," I replied, having a feeling it would be scheduled for our next movie night so he could illustrate the point he was no doubt about to make.

"There's this amazing ballroom scene where Jennifer Jones is dancing with Louis Jourdan, and she feels overcome by the warmth in the room, and he orders the servants to break all the windows to let in the night air - "

"I don't think we can do that during the reception, but anything else you want, you can have, because we can get married here for free."

"I don't understand."

"We can have the ceremony here, and an amazing dinner planned and supervised by an experienced chef, and there's room for a band, if you want one. And with what we'll save on the facilities and the catering, you can even have your swans if you want."

"Donald, it's beautiful." He wrapped me up in one of his big hugs, excited now, finally giving me the reaction I'd hoped for. "I don't understand how you arranged this," he said, holding onto my shoulders as he pulled back.

"I was talking with Mrs. Carrington today, working on the book...the wedding came up, and she offered to let us use her ballroom, and to provide the catering, supervised by her chef."

"We're in Eleanor Carrington's ballroom?" he asked, his eyes widening.

"Yes, we are."

"We can't accept all this, honey."

"That's what I said, too, but she really wants to do this for us. She insisted. She said her first husband wasn't rich, didn't have much, but she remembered how in love they were, how everything was a struggle back then...I guess she just wants to help us." I took both Timmy's hands in mine. "This is the only way I can give you the kind of wedding and reception you deserve - "

"Oh, no, it's not." Tim slid his arms around me, pulling me close. "I've gotten so swept up in arrangements and caterers and ice sculpted swans... If I can't have any of that, it doesn't matter. As long as you give me your love and your commitment, and your promise, I don't need anything else."

That was nice, but by God, he was going to have his upscale party with all the trimmings, up to and including those fucking swans if that's what he wanted. He was the love of my life, and all I wanted was to see him happy. I knew we could get by with something less, but giving him the kind of occasion he'd never forget was within my reach now. I took my time kissing Timothy, bumping noses with him, remembering again what a lucky bastard I was to have ever landed him.

"I know we don't need it, but this place is remarkable, and even if we blow every penny of our overstretched budget, we couldn't buy our way into a place like this. And it's kind of nice to get married in someone's house, where we're welcome, where they want to help us celebrate. Let's... seize the moment!" I urged, grinning.

"Don...it's amazing. Yes, yes, let's seize the moment!" he agreed, laughing and hugging me again. Well, anything that got him to hug me this much had served its purpose already. I hoped it would lead to naked horizontal hugging later.

"Come here, I want you to see the banquet room."

"What?" he asked, following me, looking stunned. I opened the French doors and guided him through them. "Oh, my God, Donald, we could have the dinner in here. That way, we could get married in the ballroom, and while the guests were having cocktails and dinner, we could have someone clear away the chairs and set up for dancing! Oh, that's perfect."

"We can do whatever you want, honey." I took his hand and kissed the back of it. "Just use your beautiful taste and plan anything that suits you. And order your swans."

"No, I've changed my mind about that," he said. "When I thought about two frozen cold swans on a table, versus you and me, nice and warm, making love by our own private pool in a little guest cabin at a Hawaiian resort, it was no contest. I must have been insane to even think about a giant piece of ice instead of our honeymoon."

"Are you sure?"

"The only thing I'm more sure about is marrying you."

"Let's go talk to Mrs. Carrington, tell her we accept her amazing offer."

********

Donald is my hero. He was from the first moment he came to my rescue in that nightclub, but he's my hero in so many big and little ways, almost every day for something. He doesn't have to fight off bad guys or pull an amazing wedding location out of his hat to be my hero. Sometimes it was when he screwed up his whole schedule to come and pick me up from work when it was pouring rain outside, or in the winter when it was snowing or the wind chills dropped to subhuman levels. His car was just as likely to die by the curb or not have a working heater in those extreme conditions, but at least I was better off than outdoors at the bus stop, and I was dry, and with him.

Nobody I've ever dated watched over me like he did, and still does. Maybe because I'm confident and capable, and certainly don't have the look of a shrinking violet who needs sheltering. That doesn't mean that I don't feel warm all over to know that someone worries if I'm too cold, too wet, am standing around at a bus stop in the dark when it's not the safest place to be.

Going back to the ballroom of the Carrington Estate, yes, that certainly was worthy of hero status. When I was on Senator Glassman's staff the first time, we'd tried to get one of her re-election fundraisers hosted there, but Mrs. Carrington gracefully declined, stating she had some other organization planning to use it at the same time. I suspect she was just undecided, since she was friends with the challenger who was trying to unseat Senator Glassman in that race. At any rate, it was one of the most prestigious private locations in Albany high society.

Add to that, Mrs. Carrington had amazing taste and flair when it came to planning weddings. She suggested decorations comprised of red and white roses and ribbons to be woven into the chandeliers, and found a local catering company that was willing to do a smaller set of ice sculpted swans in the same basic design for much less than the monster swans I had chosen online.

The stupid swans weren't that important - it was the symbol. The heart formed by their union, and the fact swans mate for life.

Our wedding invitations, decorated with little red foil embossed joined swans, directed guests to "The Carrington Estate." Part of me felt a little tingle of satisfaction at the thought of my father seeing that. Not only did he know Eleanor Carrington, and court her for donations like every other politician on both the state and national levels, but we couldn't have had a more elegant location if we'd been welcomed there in Virginia among all his rich, influential, conservative buddies.

Underlying all this was the fact that I knew Donald really didn't have any great enthusiasm for the whole "event" of the wedding. He would have been happy to just promise to love me forever and take me to Hawaii where we'd seal the deal - repeatedly - until we were too sexually exhausted to seal it any more. Thinking of that made me smile. Hopefully, I'd get to have it both ways - big party and sealing the deal under the Hawaiian moonlight. Yes, repeatedly.

I called my mother and gushed at her about it, and she squealed with glee and asked all the details, though I could tell her back was going up a bit that there was some other older woman dabbling in the plans. My mother is a generation younger than Eleanor Carrington, but she still saw her as treading on her motherly territory with her ballroom, her chef, and her decorating ideas. I had to gently remind my mother that we had nowhere to go and no money to get there, so Mrs. Carrington's generosity was the only was we were going to have a wedding like this. Of course, that got her off on the tangent of telling me it was my father's fault, not hers, that we weren't having it in Virginia.

I was rubbing my temple, fighting an oncoming headache, as I tried to explain to her that didn't put anymore money in my pocket to pay caterers when Donald shot me a sympathetic look as he walked in from the kitchen with his hand in a bag of potato chips. Then he set his chips down, went out in the hall, closed the front door, and proceeded to knock loudly on the door.

"I'm sorry, Mom, someone's at the door," I said.

"Can't Don answer it?"

Oh, he probably could.

"Don's out at the moment," I replied. That was true. He was out...in the hall. "I'll call you next week and let you know how the plans are going."

"I could talk to your father again - "

Don knocked again, a bit louder this time.

"Just a minute," I called out, rolling my eyes. Don quietly opened the door and looked in at me with wide eyes, as if to ask what he'd have to do to rescue me. Then he clutched his throat, stuck out his tongue, bugged his eyes, and proceeded to collapse on the floor. I know my mother was saying something, but I was covering the phone and trying not to burst out laughing. "I really have to go, Mom. I'll talk to you soon."

"All right. I love you," she said.

"I love you, too, Mom. Don't worry about Dad. We're going to have a great wedding, okay?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she said, though her feathers were still ruffled at being upstaged by Mrs. Carrington.

After I hung up, Don got up and closed the door, locking it.

"If this PI gig doesn't pan out, you have a future in acting," I said.

"The hours are even worse and they'd probably want me to take my clothes off all the time," he said, right before he sat on my lap and wound his arms around my neck. Don's not tall, but he's not a little powderpuff, either. He's a nice lapful of solid body, enough to knock the wind out of me when he decides to "hop" in my lap. Still, my heart always flutters a bit when I see his playful side. It only comes out uncensored with me, and even then, not often. I put my arms around him and hugged him tight, laughing, kissing all over his face.

"I want you to take your clothes off all the time, too," I joked, slipping my hand under his t-shirt, rubbing his back. "It must be awful having people after your body that way," I added.

"It's a curse I have to deal with," he sighed, laughing. "Is your mom okay?"

"Yeah, she's just a little ruffled that there's another old lady with money in her territory."

"Battle of the rich old ladies, huh? Would not want to be in the center of that conflict."

"Don't look now, but you are. We both are."

"Uh-uh. Not me. If those two decide to go at it, I'm just gonna duck."

"My mother won't do anything discourteous. She thought it was a very generous thing Mrs. Carrington was doing. She's madder at my father than she is at anyone else, because if he wasn't being so difficult about this, she'd be at the center of the wedding plans, where she wants to be."

"She can help plan it. God knows, she knows more about it than I do."

"I'm having fun planning it with you," I told him honestly. And I was. I loved that this event was something we were creating together. I loved him more every time he suffered through a menu or decoration discussion that I knew was really making his toenails curl. But my hero was sitting there putting up with it for me.

Even though my legs were falling asleep, the weight of him felt good against me, and I savored the rare moment of stillness when he relaxed in my arms, his head on my shoulder, his breath warm on my neck. We sat there a while like that, neither one of us talking, and not needing words. He yawned after a while, a little noise and a little burst of warm air on my skin. He kissed my neck inside the open collar of my shirt. I kissed his forehead and ran my fingers through his soft blond hair, cradling his head, keeping it tucked under my cheek. I felt like my heart would burst, like it just couldn't hold any more love for him, and yet I kept falling more in love with him with every sweet breath he took.

It was funny that as my dream wedding was coming together, I was overwhelmed by the realization that I didn't need any of it.

Not only did I not need swans or roses or ballrooms, I didn't even need Hawaii. This was paradise.