Log in

No account? Create an account
07 July 2015 @ 07:56 pm
For smallfandomfest: Donald Strachey Mysteries - Donald/Timothy - My Hero  
Title: My Hero
Author: megan_moonlight
Date of Posting: July 7th, 2015
Rating: PG
Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries (movies)
Characters/Pairings: Donald Strachey/Timothy Callahan, Bub Bailey
Disclaimer: All the characters © Richard Stevenson, Mark Saltzman. I make no money from this.
Summary: Timothy knew Donald is good at what he's doing, but that doesn't mean he won't worry, especially when his husband informs him that he might be late.
Spoilers: -
Warnings: -
Beta: lil_1337
Author's Notes: Written for smallfandomfest Round 17 for the prompt Donald/Timothy, "My hero."
This is my first fic in this fandom. I love these films very much, and I love Donald, Timmy and Bub, so I wanted to write something about them. I enjoyed writing the fic, so I hope you'll like it, too. Enjoy!
Mentioned at: smallfandomfest, at AO3 *HERE*


Timothy Callahan put down the phone, got up from the couch and went to the kitchen to prepare some sort of a supper for himself. At first he considered calling for take-out, maybe something Italian, but in the end he decided to make something himself. At least then there would be leftovers for the next day and Donald would only have to warm it up.

Donald had called to let him know that he might be late and told Timothy not to wait for him with the food. At some point during the investigation his case ended up being Detective Bailey’s case as well, and they had planned some sort of stake-out. He also mentioned that if he managed to finish the investigation earlier, which was what he was planning to do, he would have at least three days off, which they could spend together.

Timothy had told him he loved him, and reminded him to be careful and not do anything too dangerous, something he had kept saying each time Donald had called him to say he will be working longer. The last three days Donald hadn’t been home much overall. While he had called often and made sure to come visit Timothy during the day, taking him out to lunch or just simply to tell him he loved him, the longer Donald had worked on this case, the more nervous Timothy got. He didn’t know any details, and he never asked, but from the way his husband frowned every time he talked to Detective Bailey, Timothy guessed it was something important and possibly dangerous.

Even after such a long time together, he still worried about Donald, or rather about the danger Donald put himself into. Didn’t matter how many times Donald had told him not to worry because he knew what he was doing, Timothy couldn’t help but worry anyway. He did trust Donald and his skills, but it’s not something Timothy could help, really. Because when you love someone you worry about them when they are potentially in danger.

He sighed, took out tomatoes and olives from the fridge and started making a salad. After a few minutes he felt Doctor Watson lean against his leg, then put his front paws on the kitchen counter, clearly interested in everything Timothy was doing.

“Honestly, you ate two hours ago,” he said and looked down at Watson, who just started wagging his tail. “You are worse than Donald sometimes, do you know that? If you keep that up we will have to start carrying you around. How much fun would that be?”

Watson just tilted his head to the side and Timothy rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep a smile from his face, really.

“You definitely learned that from Donald,” he opened one of the cupboards and took out a bag of snacks. “Half of a bowl of snacks and that’s it, no more food for you until breakfast.”

He put the bowl on the ground next to Watson’s water bowl and got back to cooking.

He ended up making much more food than he expected at first, but at least they wouldn't have to cook much for the next day or two. Chicken casserole, rice with steamed vegetables, a side salad and homemade tomato sauce with parmesan cheese. It had been some time since he’d cooked so much food at once, but it was a surprisingly good way to pass the time that evening since he didn’t have much else to do.

He hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed. It was close to midnight already and Donald still hadn’t called or sent a text telling him how he was doing. Timothy sighed, looked out of the window, but when he didn’t notice anything, he sat down on the couch and put his hand on Watson’s head, scratching behind one ear. Watson was sleeping, curled with his head on a pillow, but he opened his eyes to look up as soon as Timothy sat down next to him.

“He will call us soon. If not, I’ll try calling Detective Bailey,” Timothy said, looking at the window. Watson raised his head and licked Timothy’s hand gently. “I know. He did say he would be late, but still.”

When he looked at the phone about a half an hour later, he considered calling Donald. He was just reaching for the phone when he heard a car pulling up their driveway. Watson ran up to the door right away and Timothy got up, looking out of the window. Detective Bub Bailey was just leaving the car, but Timothy did not wait until the Detective moved to the passenger’s door. He opened the door quickly, just in time to see Detective Bailey helping Donald leave the car.


Timothy ran out of the house, not caring that he is barefoot and in his pajamas. As he reached the car he quickly wrapped one arm around Donald right away, helping Detective Bailey get him to the house.

“Timmy, I’m fine. My side just hurts, that’s all,” Donald said, his tone light even though he winced as he walked up the stairs. “I just need to lie down, I think. Really, Timmy.”

“The doctor said he should to stay in bed for a day or two,” Detective Bailey helped to get Donald upstairs and into bed. “There was shooting before we caught the robbers and Strachey managed to play a hero right after he appeared. He saved one of our sergeants. The man would have gotten shot if Strachey hadn’t pushed him out of the way. He just fell and bruised himself. Right after we caught everyone and the doctor told me it was okay, I brought him here.”

“I told the doctor that I promised you I’ll be home as soon as possible. I’m okay, I promise,” Donald repeated as Timothy sat down next to him heavily, letting out a breath he didn’t notice he was holding. He put his head on Donald’s shoulder and laid one hand on Donald’s chest, feeling his heartbeat. Donald was okay. Maybe it was only a bruise, just as he said, but that didn’t mean Timothy would just stop worrying.

He felt gentle fingers combing through his hair slowly and then Donald kissed the top of his head.

“Right. I should probably get home, too.”

Timothy looked up at Detective Bailey, who was still standing by the door. Timothy looked at Donald’s face, and after pressing a kiss to Donald’s forehead, he stood up.

“Of course, but it’s night and after a day like that you must be exhausted. I could quickly prepare a guest bedroom, if you wanted,” Timothy looked at the Detective, who shook his head slowly. “It wouldn’t be a problem.”

“No, it’s fine, don’t trouble yourself. Just make sure Strachey actually takes a day off. I think you’re the only one who can keep an eye on him for a longer amount of time.”

“Well, I try,” Timothy smiled. “Let me walk you out then. And Donald, you stay here and I will bring you something to eat and drink.”

As he opened the door to let Detective Bailey out, Timothy caught Watson who most likely planned to take a chance to get out as well.

“Thank you for getting him home, Detective,” he said as they walked to the car. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay? It wouldn’t be a problem at all.”

“No, I will be fine. It wasn’t as exhausting for me as it was for Strachey, I guess. Thanks, though. Keep an eye on him, Callahan. And could you tell him to call me when he feels better? We’ll need to see the evidence he collected during the investigation.”

“I will tell him. And thank you again. Good night, Detective.”

The man nodded and as soon as he drove off, Timothy carried Watson back into the house.

He locked the door and let out a breath. Watson went upstairs right away and Timothy walked into the kitchen, put some rice and vegetables on a plate and poured orange juice in a cup. Donald probably wouldn’t eat much more at this hour, especially since he must be more tired than hungry. But at least he was okay.

When Timothy got upstairs Donald managed to take his shirt off.

“Wait, I will help you. You shouldn’t be moving much, I think,” Timothy put the cup and the plate down on the bedside table and helped Donald with the rest of his clothes, making sure to not touch his ribs and his side, which were indeed heavily bruised. He must have landed pretty badly, and possibly on something quite hard if it left an injury like that. But Timothy wasn't going to think about that anymore. He sighed and looked away, handing Donald his sleeping pants.

“Well, I’m not going to say no to your hands on me, Timmy, you know that, but it’s only a bruise. I can dress myself,” he said, as Timothy helped him change into his pajama pants, then turned away to take Donald’s shirt and trousers, fold them, and put on a chair.

“I just… you didn’t call,” Timothy sat down next to Donald on the bed. “I know you said you would be working late, but you didn’t answer your phone later. And you always call when you’re heading home and I might have gotten a bit anxious when you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I was in a hurry and left my phone at the office, I think. I’ll call Kenny tomorrow and he’ll bring it. I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Donald laid down on the bed, adjusting his pillow, and raised one arm, making space for Timothy to lie down next to him.

Timothy did just that and snuggled into Donald’s uninjured side, wrapping an arm around his middle, trying not to put too much pressure on his ribs. Donald in turn wrapped an arm around his shoulders and only then, with Donald’s body against him and hearing his breathing, Timothy let himself close his eyes and relax.

Donald was back with him and he was okay. And Timothy would make sure he stayed home and got some rest so his injuries can heal.

Suddenly he felt Watson jump on the bed and walk around in circles before lying down on Donald and Timothy’s entwined legs.

“Are you sure you don’t need to see the doctor again?”

“I’m sure, I promise.”

“I cooked so much food that we’ll be eating it for the next two days. And I’ll call in sick tomorrow and take a day off.”

“Timothy, you don’t have to. I know that important meeting you wanted to go to is tomorrow.”

“Yes, well, staying home with my husband is more important,” Timothy looked up. He touched Donald’s cheek gently, caressing the skin with his thumb, before leaning in to kiss him. “Tomorrow we will stay in. You might be a great detective, darling, but you are not invincible. So let me take care of you, okay?”

“My hero,” Donald murmured before kissing him again.

*Mood*: cheerfulcheerful
Julie: Original ★ fanfictionragnarok_08 on July 7th, 2015 07:49 pm (UTC)
This fic was just great :)
Megan Moonlight: donald/timothymegan_moonlight on July 9th, 2015 06:47 pm (UTC)
Thank you :)
Three Days of Violence Against Vegtables: Donald Strachey Mysteries - TimmyxDonaldlil_1337 on July 8th, 2015 01:07 am (UTC)
I love this fic so much!

Edited at 2015-07-08 01:08 am (UTC)
Megan Moonlight: donald/timothymegan_moonlight on July 9th, 2015 06:49 pm (UTC)
Thank you very much for helping me with it *hugs* I had so much fun writing this one (but I was so araid of making them OOC). I guess I could write more of Don/Tim :)
Three Days of Violence Against Vegtables: Donald Strachey Mysteries - TimmyxDonaldlil_1337 on July 10th, 2015 07:23 pm (UTC)
It was my pleasure. You could write a lot more Don and Tim!
Megan Moonlight: claudiamegan_moonlight on July 14th, 2015 07:59 pm (UTC)
I'll definitely consider writing more fics for them, then :)

Also, I've sent you an e-mail with next fics. This time I'll need more help with them, I think...
Three Days of Violence Against Vegtables: Chibi Melil_1337 on July 14th, 2015 10:00 pm (UTC)
I got the email and I will look them over as soon as I get a chance.