SN Fic: Days and Lists
Feb. 16th, 2010 07:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
out_thereTitle: Days and Lists
Fandom: Sports Night
Pairing: Casey/Dan
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Do I look like Sorkin to you? No.
Word Count: 4,553
Summary: Where Dan's sure it's the bad kind of day, Casey's an idiot (in Dana's opinion) and Sports Illustrated's list of 100 Most Influential People is leaked earlier than it should be.
Notes: This story has been sitting on my computer for way too long. Thanks tophoebesmum for betaing twice (during two different calendar years).
Dan was standing in line at Starbucks, waiting for his coffee and eavesdropping on the two girls standing beside him. They were cute in a casual college, jeans and tight t-shirts way, and definitely too young for him, but they were talking too loudly for him not to hear.
"You know how there are some mornings when everything goes right?" the one closest to him -- brunette, Yankees cap peeking out of her backpack -- asked her friend. "You wake up ten minutes before your alarm and get to lie in a nice warm bed without guilt?"
Her friend -- mousy brown hair and no obvious sports affiliations -- nodded. "Like when the shower is running at the perfect temperature as you step in."
"And there's change for coffee in your purse," the brunette added. "This is one of those days."
"The kind of day when the cute guys from Friday night will call?" her friend replied, laughing as they got their coffee and walked out.
In Dan's opinion, this wasn't one of those days.
This was the kind of morning when you're shocked from a deep sleep and kick your toe as you stumble (and possibly hop) to find your alarm and silence it. The shower is suddenly reduced to two settings, scalding hot or freezing, you're out of milk, coffee and bread, you had to search your pants pocket for spare change, and then you feel like a pompous jerk when you buy a cup of coffee just to change a hundred. It was the kind of morning when everything could go wrong.
But, Dan thought as he handed over the hundred and ignored the barista's grimace, that could just be because Sports Illustrated's 100 Most Influential People was getting leaked tomorrow. And then it was going to be published. And then… And then Danny might find a few weeks full of the wrong kind of days.
***
As Dan walked into the office, Dana told Casey he was an idiot. (Casey, that was; Dan hadn't done anything ridiculously stupid for at least 48 hours.) She click-clacked out of their office with a not-quite-veiled threat about what was best for everyone and Casey doing as he was ordered.
Dan hung up his jacket before he asked. "So what was all that about?"
"That had to be about something?"
Dan nodded. Casey had a point but... "Normally there's at least some provocation to Dana insulting you in our office. If it was the conference room or the studio, I'd agree, but to walk all the way over to our office just to call you an idiot when she could've picked up the phone? Normally that's about something."
"Not today."
"This is going to be one of those days, isn't it?"
"No," Casey said sharply, a little too sharply for someone claiming to be an innocent victim of Dana's temper. "It's not going to be 'one of those days'. It's going to be a good day, a normal day. We're going to write our show, we're going to host it, and then we're going to go home. There will be nothing about it to make it one of Those Days."
The last sentence was delivered with a sharp slap on the desk. Dan would say it was reminiscent of Judge Judy slamming her gavel, but wild horses -- or rabid Yankee fans -- couldn't make him admit he'd ever watched that show.
"I'm tempted to put my jacket back on and just go home."
***
Most of the day was taken up with Rofalski's knees -- "There's definitely something going on with his knees?" Dan asked, and was told that a friend of Kim's had seen him limping, which meant everyone spent a lot of time on phones trying to get someone to go on record with actual facts -- and whatever bat had got into Dana's belfry was still alive and flying. In the noon rundown there were pointed comments from Dana and flat glares from Natalie; from the way Casey suddenly jerked, a sharp shoe probably kicked his shin pretty hard in the eight o'clock rundown.
"I think it's time to do the sensible, mature thing," Dan said, once they were back in their office and could speak man-to-man, "and cave."
"Are we still talking about Rofalski's knees?"
"We're talking about Dana and whatever thing you two have going on today."
Casey stood up, hands high in the air, crossing and uncrossing wildly as if signaling an illegal play. "Not happening."
"Casey--"
"This is a difference of opinion."
Dan rolled his eyes. "Meaning that you think she's wrong and she thinks you're an idiot."
"Meaning that she's being stubborn and I'm right. Come on, Dan, be with me on this."
"I don't even know what 'this' is," Dan replied -- and there it was: the stiffly set jaw. "Clearly, it has something to do with the--"
Casey sprang forward, grabbing Dan by the shoulders. "Don't say it, Danny. Don't, for the love of all that is good and holy, say it. You will jinx it and there will be preternatural repercussions, and I don't know how you combat that type of karmic punishment, so don't say it."
"Do you really think that something that has already been decided, proof-checked and sent to the printers will be affected by us discussing it on the other side of town?"
"Yes," Casey said, eyes wide and intent, fingers digging into Dan's shoulders, "I do. I think exactly that."
"Dana's right. You're an idiot."
***
Dana, despite the occasional lost shoe, bout of insomnia, and the way her desk lamp kept getting traded up for a newer model, had a good understanding of the pressure of working on television. She knew how to improvise and how to get her employees to do what she wanted.
Dan was pretty sure that explained why Kim and Elliott spent that night's C-breaks standing four yards from the anchor desk and flinging paperclips at Casey.
"We do what we're told," Elliott said, landing another paperclip on Casey's bowed head.
"Just following orders." Kim's paperclip went wild, skittering to the edge of the desk and teetering for a moment before falling to the studio floor. "We're not in charge of how fun the orders are going to be."
Allison ducked in twenty seconds before they came back to air, and fished the paperclips out of Casey's hair and collar.
"Et tu, Allison?" Casey grumbled, but then the cameras rolled and Rofalski's knees were more important than office feuds.
Dan felt somewhat responsible. No one had said so, no one had even muttered the words 'Draft' and 'Day' in the same sentence, but it was there. And if there was anything he could do to reduce the tension around the office, he had an obligation to do it.
He went to Dana's office after the show.
Dana was on the phone, calling someone 'the most stupid man to have ever mastered the art of breathing'. Dan's suspicions were confirmed when she said Casey's name.
Dan grinned hopefully. "Dana?"
"Okay, I have to go. The half of your partnership who isn't an idiot is standing in my office right now." Dana hung up the phone and then gave that nervous half-chuckle that meant she'd hit the figurative clutch and was changing mental gears. "Dan. How can I help?"
"You could tell me why Casey's an idiot."
"I don't have enough time to answer that." Dana snorted. "Let's just say that the reasons are numerous and I suspect his mother dropped him on the head as a baby."
"Let me rephrase: why is he being a bigger idiot today? He got a source for the Rofalski thing, and that wasn't easy," Dan said, sitting on her couch and then twisting to be able to see Dana behind her desk. "As far as I can see, he did good tonight."
"It's not what he did, it's what he won't do," Dana said, and then gave him a long look. "Danny--"
Dan groaned; Dana only called him that when she was trying to soften the blow. "If this is about the 100 Most Influential People, can I point out yet again that I'm not going to have a breakdown if someone mentions it? This is getting ridiculous. Yes, I reacted badly last year but there were things going on that had nothing to do with Sports Night. It was a one-off thing, not a new precedent."
There was a long moment where Dan stared at Dana and Dana stared at her fingertips and then she said, "I really need to get my nails done."
"Dana!"
"Okay, fine," she said, throwing her hands up in the air, "you will not explode. But forewarned is forearmed, and Casey's being an idiot. He should be in here, right now, finding out about the list so he can get the gloating out of his system without you having to see it. It's a very ugly side of him," she added, in a lowered voice.
"I thought the list didn't get leaked until tomorrow?"
"Natalie knows a guy. She's getting an email tonight."
Dan frowned, and then he got it. "Because it's after midnight, so it's technically tomorrow."
"Exactly."
"And you wanted Casey to see the list so if I freaked out, he won't be gloating at the same time?"
There should have been a word for a movement that was half a shrug and half a cringe -- a shringe maybe -- because that was what Dana did. She shringed and said, "Kinda."
"And he won't because..."
"He's an idiot."
"Uh-huh," Dan said, and she shringed again. "How about we do it the other way around? I'll see the list first and then Casey doesn't have to see my honest reaction."
"That's probably not a good idea--" Dana started, but was interrupted by Natalie sprinting into the room, waving pages of printer paper above her head.
"We've got it!" Natalie announced, then she glanced at the couch and saw Dan. She pulled her arms down fast. "Um, I mean, tomorrow's rundown. We got the rundown sheet to print. But clearly not enough copies for everyone, so I'll go back to the printer."
"Smooth," Dan said. "Read out the damn list."
Natalie stuck out her chin and bluffed in a truly horrible way. "It's not a list, it's a rundown sheet."
"It's a list."
"It's a rundown sheet."
"It's a--"
"It's a list," Dana interrupted, stopping them before they devolved to calling each other big meanies. (It had happened in the past, and might happen again. Dan and Natalie had a unique way of arguing that Jeremy and Casey had learnt not to mock.) "Nat, Dan knows."
Shaking her head slowly, Natalie stage-whispered, "It's amazing you keep your coffee stash a secret."
Dan perked up. "You have a coffee stash?"
"One, no, I don't. Two, remember the list, the important list? Can we focus on that, please?"
Natalie leaned down, but didn't whisper quietly enough. "I was trying to distract him."
"With my coffee!" Dana hissed back.
"From the list." Natalie rustled the papers in her hand.
"Ladies," Dan said, and Natalie snapped upright so quickly she nearly overbalanced, "how about you just tell me what number Casey is this year, and then we can all go home?"
Dana turned to Natalie expectantly.
"I don't know," Natalie said, "I only printed it. I didn't read it."
"Then how about you read it now?" Dana said, voicing Dan's thoughts.
Natalie shot Dana an unimpressed look, as if Dana should be shooing Dan out of the room and refusing to acknowledge his presence and Dana knew it. Dana gazed back with an expression that clearly stated that while Casey was being the biggest idiot ever, Natalie was currently vying for second place in that competition.
Dan took a moment to wonder when he'd started to understand women's looks.
"Fine," Natalie said, and turned over the first page. And the second. When she got to the third, she stopped. "Seventy-eight."
Natalie whooped and passed the page to Dana. Dan realized that this was the time to show his enthusiasm.
"Seventy-eight from ninety-two? In twelve months? We are damn good," he said, standing up and wondering if he'd have to see Casey in the elevator if he left now. "Or Casey is, but you know that if I wasn't doing my bit, he wouldn't look half as good."
"That's not the reason we're grinning, you doofus," Natalie said with a smile so wide the top of her head was in danger of falling off. "You're on the list."
"Cool!" Suddenly his smile didn't feel so fake. "What number?" He wasn't competitive, he wasn't, but damnit he deserved at least a ninety-two.
Dana called out, like the most hyperactive cheerleader ever, "Seventy-nine, baby!"
"Casey and I are seventy-eight and seventy-nine?" Dan asked, making sure he'd heard that right. The girls nodded. He clapped his hands together and raised his arms in victory, and possibly looked a little like a psycho cheerleader himself. Possibly, Dana should start keeping pom-poms in her office. "Fantastic! Beyond fantastic! This is... fantastic, Dana! We've got to tell Casey."
"Casey doesn't want to know," Dana replied, still smiling. But they were all smiling now. "He doesn't want to know anything until he has a copy of the magazine."
"That's only because he's an idiot," Dan called out, already stepping into the hallway and hoping he could catch Casey before he left.
"That's what I've been saying!"
***
Casey was sitting in the conference room, sorting through his wallet. The table was littered with scrunched up white and yellow receipts.
"You know how there are some times when, in the course of being your best friend, I stand steadfast and defend you in the face of baseless criticism and insults," Dan said, letting the glass door swoosh closed behind him, "and there are other times when being a good friend means bursting your ego bubble and giving you a hard time when you're doing the wrong thing?"
"Uh-huh," Casey said, frowning at a business card in his hand. "Do you remember anyone called Kathy?"
"Not off the top of my head."
"I have her number," Casey said, holding up the card and the red-inked phone digits scrawled on the back. "I don't remember getting her number. Do you think I could call her up and ask?"
"No, I don't." Dan took the card from Casey's hands and ignored Casey's surprised glare. "But we were talking about you being an idiot."
"No, we weren't."
"Yes," Dan corrected, "we were."
"I'm pretty sure I would have remembered if that was the topic of conversation. Why would that be the topic of conversation?"
"Because you are."
"Because I'm what?"
"An idiot," Dan said slowly.
Holding his hands up, Casey signalled for a time out. "This conversation is making no sense. Like, none. I have no idea what we're talking about."
Pulling out a chair, Dan sat beside Casey. He could have sat at the head of the table -- it was only the two of them there -- but no one sat in Isaac's chair. "We're talking about Dana being right, you being an idiot, and the list being out."
"It gets leaked tomorrow." Casey's confused frown smoothed out, disappointment tightening the corners of his mouth.
"Natalie knows a guy."
"It got leaked today?" Casey asked, flattening his hands on the desk. Dan nodded. "Why don't they just publish the damn thing and be done with it? It's bad enough that one issue of Sports Illustrated gets dragged down by this air of mean-spirited competition and rivalry, but they should be able to contain it to a publishing date. They shouldn't be able to spread the pointless pettiness of this list two days early."
"Gee, competition. In the world of sports," Dan deadpanned. "I'm dumbfounded. You should write a complaint. Or better yet, you should stop being an idiot and admit that the list is important to you."
"It's not important to me."
"You care about it, Casey."
Casey set his jaw. "I don't care about it."
"You care about whether or not you're on it. You care about where you're on it, if you're on it," Dan said, but Casey shook his head. "You care about it, Casey. Just admit it."
"I don't care about it." If Casey had been the type of guy to indulge in pointless dramatic gestures, this would have been the moment to stand up and exit the conference room in a huff. So that was precisely what Casey did.
Dan followed him to their office and closed the door behind him. Crossing his arms, he leaned against it, blocking the exit in case Casey felt the need for another dramatic action. "You get that I'm not going to have a meltdown just because you care about a list? A list, I might add, that is prepared by our peers and acknowledges our hard work and talent."
"I don't."
"You don't get that?"
"I don't care. Danny, I don't care. I am not losing sleep at night over this. I don't care if I'm on the list. I don't care if I'm not. Personally, I'd prefer the list didn't exist at all." Casey paused, pulling his sweater on. "But since I don't have the power to make that happen, I'm happy to settle for ignoring it."
Casey took a few steps towards the door, but Dan didn't move. "So you're saying… you don't care?"
"I don't even care about whatever lame reason Dana had for dragging you into this," Casey said, taking one step closer and then stopping when Dan, and Dan's crossed arms, remained statue-still. "And I still don't believe all her BS about protecting the delicate gears of the Sports Night machine. Now can I go home?"
Dan grinned. "You haven't asked where you are on the list."
"I don't care. Danny, when I say I don't care, I honestly mean--"
"That you care, a lot, but you don't want to admit it," Dan finished. "Which is fine. I appreciate the attempt to be considerate of my feelings, but the consideration is not needed, and this constant denial of something that you really want is getting annoying. So suck it up and be honest."
Casey huffed and then looked out at the skyline. The silent treatment. Fun.
Clearly, Dan needed to tread a little more carefully. Possibly he should try using logic. "Why would you worry about jinxing something you don't care about?"
"Danny, I've had this argument with Lisa too many times. I don't want to have it with you. If I say I don't care and I act like I don't care, isn't that enough?"
"Wait," Dan said, and this time it was him using the time out signal. "When did this become about Lisa?"
"About Lisa, about Charlie, and I don't want it to be about you because I'm not that guy."
Perhaps, to Casey, that made sense but it left Dan confused. "Not what guy?"
"The guy who does that," Casey said pleadingly. "The guy who prioritizes his job and his career and his ego over the people he loves. I'm not that guy."
"No, you're not. But you don't have to fake indifference to prove it. You're seventy-eight on the list. It's a big deal. You should be thrilled about it."
Casey didn't look thrilled. He looked wary and tired, like a man who'd returned from the front lines to find his homeland invaded. "Okay."
"Hell, I'm seventy-nine on the list, and I'm planning on throwing a party."
Casey froze, his face blank for one heart-stopping moment. And then he smiled. "Seventy-nine? That's fantastic."
"Tell me about it," Dan said, spreading his arms wide. "We are seventy-eight and seventy-nine, my friend. I mean, there are still seventy-seven people more influential than us, but out of nearly two hundred million Americans, we made the top hundred. That's a big achievement."
Casey snorted. "But not all of those Americans are interested in sports, are they, Danny?"
"Dude, quit raining on my parade."
"And the ones that are interested," Casey said, still grinning that scarily wide grin, "most of them aren't involved in sports in any professional manner."
"I won't invite you to my party."
"You're really having a party?"
"Sure. It'll be known as the 'Dan Rydell is a huge honking success!' party. There'll be a banner and everything." Dan slid his hands through the air, picturing the banner hung across their office window. It would probably say something like 'Dan and Casey, welcome to the 78th percentile', but as long as it was something glitzy and celebratory, it could just be their names for all he cared. Then he froze as something Casey said earlier suddenly registered. "Wait-- love?"
Casey blinked. "As far as nicknames go, I don't think that one's going to catch on. And as a term of endearment, it's probably best kept to people you've actually slept with."
"No, I mean, people you love?"
"I'd ask to buy a vowel, Danny," Casey said, and for a moment, they shared the same slightly confused expression, "but what I really need is some context."
"You said, and I quote 'blah blah blah, prioritizing ego, blah, blah, blah, people you love'."
"Exact quote, huh?"
Dan clicked his fingers in front of Casey's face. Whenever Natalie did that to him, it was incredibly annoying but he felt justified doing it now. "You used the term 'people you love' when referring to me. You see the significance here?"
Casey laughed at the ridiculous insinuation. "You're my best friend, Danny."
Anyone walking by, anyone watching Casey on TV, would have been fooled. But Dan had known the man for over a decade, had seen him day after day, had seen him at his best and at his worst; Dan could hear the panic there.
"Please," Dan said with the most sarcasm he could manage, "give me some credit. We've just gone through this whole 'lying about stuff you care about' and my freakish ability to see through your fake indifference. What makes you think you'll be convincing this time?"
"I've convinced you for the last three and half years--" Casey stopped talking. He possibly stopped breathing, too, as his face went redder and redder. After a long moment of silence, he said very quietly, "Any chance we can just ignore that?"
It took Dan a moment to find his voice. "Not a chance."
"Figures." Casey took a deep breath and seemed to suddenly realize that they'd had the whole conversation while standing barely a foot from each other. He took a jerky step back.
"Uh-uh." Dan grabbed at the first thing available -- which happened to be Casey's tie -- and pulled. Casey made an uncomfortable gurgling sound as he stumbled closer, and Dan reached up to loosen the tie, saying, "Not quite what I meant to do there. Next time, I'll grab for the sweater. And why are you wearing a tie with a sweater? Are you trying to dress like someone's grandfather?"
"Monica won't let me wear the suit jackets home. Not since the blue margarita incident."
"Ah," Dan said knowledgeably, remembering the spill and the stain and the three days of Casey being dressed in shades of brown, brown and more brown. He kept fingering today's tie -- a deep green -- thinking that, despite the new jacket rule, Casey had clearly been forgiven. When Casey was apologetic, it could be nearly impossible to maintain righteous outrage against his inherent, generally well-intentioned stupidity.
Dan left his fingers hooked under the knot, so when Casey swallowed, he felt it. "Um, Dan?"
"Yeah?"
"Going to let go any time soon?"
Dan glanced at his fingers. They looked pale against Casey's flushed skin. "Not planning on it."
Rare as it was, Casey seemed lost for words.
Dan started undoing Casey's tie, the actions familiar in a back-to-front, inside-out way. When he finished, he finally looked away from his hands and met Casey's nervous, embarrassed expression. "Speechless is a good look on you."
Casey nearly smiled but abandoned the movement at the last minute. For a moment, Dan felt unbelievably stupid, standing against the door of their office, holding onto the hanging ends of Casey's tie. The knitted wool of Casey's sweater was soft against Dan's knuckles, shifting as Casey breathed.
Casey cleared his throat. "Isn't this the point where you say you're flattered, but--"
"You're an idiot."
"Hey, what happened to being flattered? Since when did unwanted attention warrant outright ridicule--"
"Three and a half years? Three and a half years, and you couldn't say anything sooner?"
Lifting his chin up, Casey glared down -- using that whole inch of height difference as much as he could. "Excuse me for wanting to avoid a conversation as awkward and ultimately humiliating as this. Clearly your gossipy need to pry into my personal life should have been my highest concern."
"You really think that's what's going on here?"
"Isn't it?"
Dan tightened his hold on Casey's tie, and tugged at it until Casey glanced down. "I know you can be oblivious, but the fact that I'm not letting go should tell you something. Even you should be able to read that sign."
If it had been football, Casey would have recognized the play and already been speculating on the quarterback's likelihood of a touchdown. If it had been basketball or baseball -- or, hell, even soccer -- Casey would have seen it coming. But it wasn't.
So instead of leaning forward when Dan did, instead of tilting his head, Casey stood there, stunned, as Dan kissed him. To Casey's credit, it only took him a moment to get with the program, wrap his arms around Dan's shoulders, and kiss back.
"Huh," he heard Casey say dazedly.
That probably meant that Dan was supposed to be the articulate one. He started with a sigh. "Three and a half years, Casey."
"I was married."
Dan finally let go of Casey's tie -- to lightly punch him in the shoulder. "You got divorced."
"I didn't want you to think this was some crazy divorce rebound thing." Casey shrugged. "Because it isn't."
Dan rolled his eyes. "A rebound happens after the end of a relationship, not before."
"I didn't know if you'd know that."
"I do."
"Well," Casey said, not quite annoyed, "now I know."
***
The banner actually said, "Congratulations!" with "Now there are only77 79 people more important than you!" added underneath in black marker.
"We were seventy eight and seventy nine," Dan pointed out when the not-quite-a-surprise party was thrown in the bullpen.
Natalie gave him her patented 'are you really this stupid?' stare. "Dana and Isaac weren't on the list."
"That explains it," Casey said, avoiding Dan's gaze. He'd been like that all morning: dampened and furtive, no casual touches, no extended banter, no eye contact. Except for the moments when he forgot and looked at Dan, and then broke into a grin that was so smug and satisfied it was almost pornographic. The entire bullpen would know by the four o'clock rundown.
Dan was surprisingly okay with that.
Fandom: Sports Night
Pairing: Casey/Dan
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Do I look like Sorkin to you? No.
Word Count: 4,553
Summary: Where Dan's sure it's the bad kind of day, Casey's an idiot (in Dana's opinion) and Sports Illustrated's list of 100 Most Influential People is leaked earlier than it should be.
Notes: This story has been sitting on my computer for way too long. Thanks to
phoebesmum for betaing twice (during two different calendar years).Dan was standing in line at Starbucks, waiting for his coffee and eavesdropping on the two girls standing beside him. They were cute in a casual college, jeans and tight t-shirts way, and definitely too young for him, but they were talking too loudly for him not to hear.
"You know how there are some mornings when everything goes right?" the one closest to him -- brunette, Yankees cap peeking out of her backpack -- asked her friend. "You wake up ten minutes before your alarm and get to lie in a nice warm bed without guilt?"
Her friend -- mousy brown hair and no obvious sports affiliations -- nodded. "Like when the shower is running at the perfect temperature as you step in."
"And there's change for coffee in your purse," the brunette added. "This is one of those days."
"The kind of day when the cute guys from Friday night will call?" her friend replied, laughing as they got their coffee and walked out.
In Dan's opinion, this wasn't one of those days.
This was the kind of morning when you're shocked from a deep sleep and kick your toe as you stumble (and possibly hop) to find your alarm and silence it. The shower is suddenly reduced to two settings, scalding hot or freezing, you're out of milk, coffee and bread, you had to search your pants pocket for spare change, and then you feel like a pompous jerk when you buy a cup of coffee just to change a hundred. It was the kind of morning when everything could go wrong.
But, Dan thought as he handed over the hundred and ignored the barista's grimace, that could just be because Sports Illustrated's 100 Most Influential People was getting leaked tomorrow. And then it was going to be published. And then… And then Danny might find a few weeks full of the wrong kind of days.
***
As Dan walked into the office, Dana told Casey he was an idiot. (Casey, that was; Dan hadn't done anything ridiculously stupid for at least 48 hours.) She click-clacked out of their office with a not-quite-veiled threat about what was best for everyone and Casey doing as he was ordered.
Dan hung up his jacket before he asked. "So what was all that about?"
"That had to be about something?"
Dan nodded. Casey had a point but... "Normally there's at least some provocation to Dana insulting you in our office. If it was the conference room or the studio, I'd agree, but to walk all the way over to our office just to call you an idiot when she could've picked up the phone? Normally that's about something."
"Not today."
"This is going to be one of those days, isn't it?"
"No," Casey said sharply, a little too sharply for someone claiming to be an innocent victim of Dana's temper. "It's not going to be 'one of those days'. It's going to be a good day, a normal day. We're going to write our show, we're going to host it, and then we're going to go home. There will be nothing about it to make it one of Those Days."
The last sentence was delivered with a sharp slap on the desk. Dan would say it was reminiscent of Judge Judy slamming her gavel, but wild horses -- or rabid Yankee fans -- couldn't make him admit he'd ever watched that show.
"I'm tempted to put my jacket back on and just go home."
***
Most of the day was taken up with Rofalski's knees -- "There's definitely something going on with his knees?" Dan asked, and was told that a friend of Kim's had seen him limping, which meant everyone spent a lot of time on phones trying to get someone to go on record with actual facts -- and whatever bat had got into Dana's belfry was still alive and flying. In the noon rundown there were pointed comments from Dana and flat glares from Natalie; from the way Casey suddenly jerked, a sharp shoe probably kicked his shin pretty hard in the eight o'clock rundown.
"I think it's time to do the sensible, mature thing," Dan said, once they were back in their office and could speak man-to-man, "and cave."
"Are we still talking about Rofalski's knees?"
"We're talking about Dana and whatever thing you two have going on today."
Casey stood up, hands high in the air, crossing and uncrossing wildly as if signaling an illegal play. "Not happening."
"Casey--"
"This is a difference of opinion."
Dan rolled his eyes. "Meaning that you think she's wrong and she thinks you're an idiot."
"Meaning that she's being stubborn and I'm right. Come on, Dan, be with me on this."
"I don't even know what 'this' is," Dan replied -- and there it was: the stiffly set jaw. "Clearly, it has something to do with the--"
Casey sprang forward, grabbing Dan by the shoulders. "Don't say it, Danny. Don't, for the love of all that is good and holy, say it. You will jinx it and there will be preternatural repercussions, and I don't know how you combat that type of karmic punishment, so don't say it."
"Do you really think that something that has already been decided, proof-checked and sent to the printers will be affected by us discussing it on the other side of town?"
"Yes," Casey said, eyes wide and intent, fingers digging into Dan's shoulders, "I do. I think exactly that."
"Dana's right. You're an idiot."
***
Dana, despite the occasional lost shoe, bout of insomnia, and the way her desk lamp kept getting traded up for a newer model, had a good understanding of the pressure of working on television. She knew how to improvise and how to get her employees to do what she wanted.
Dan was pretty sure that explained why Kim and Elliott spent that night's C-breaks standing four yards from the anchor desk and flinging paperclips at Casey.
"We do what we're told," Elliott said, landing another paperclip on Casey's bowed head.
"Just following orders." Kim's paperclip went wild, skittering to the edge of the desk and teetering for a moment before falling to the studio floor. "We're not in charge of how fun the orders are going to be."
Allison ducked in twenty seconds before they came back to air, and fished the paperclips out of Casey's hair and collar.
"Et tu, Allison?" Casey grumbled, but then the cameras rolled and Rofalski's knees were more important than office feuds.
Dan felt somewhat responsible. No one had said so, no one had even muttered the words 'Draft' and 'Day' in the same sentence, but it was there. And if there was anything he could do to reduce the tension around the office, he had an obligation to do it.
He went to Dana's office after the show.
Dana was on the phone, calling someone 'the most stupid man to have ever mastered the art of breathing'. Dan's suspicions were confirmed when she said Casey's name.
Dan grinned hopefully. "Dana?"
"Okay, I have to go. The half of your partnership who isn't an idiot is standing in my office right now." Dana hung up the phone and then gave that nervous half-chuckle that meant she'd hit the figurative clutch and was changing mental gears. "Dan. How can I help?"
"You could tell me why Casey's an idiot."
"I don't have enough time to answer that." Dana snorted. "Let's just say that the reasons are numerous and I suspect his mother dropped him on the head as a baby."
"Let me rephrase: why is he being a bigger idiot today? He got a source for the Rofalski thing, and that wasn't easy," Dan said, sitting on her couch and then twisting to be able to see Dana behind her desk. "As far as I can see, he did good tonight."
"It's not what he did, it's what he won't do," Dana said, and then gave him a long look. "Danny--"
Dan groaned; Dana only called him that when she was trying to soften the blow. "If this is about the 100 Most Influential People, can I point out yet again that I'm not going to have a breakdown if someone mentions it? This is getting ridiculous. Yes, I reacted badly last year but there were things going on that had nothing to do with Sports Night. It was a one-off thing, not a new precedent."
There was a long moment where Dan stared at Dana and Dana stared at her fingertips and then she said, "I really need to get my nails done."
"Dana!"
"Okay, fine," she said, throwing her hands up in the air, "you will not explode. But forewarned is forearmed, and Casey's being an idiot. He should be in here, right now, finding out about the list so he can get the gloating out of his system without you having to see it. It's a very ugly side of him," she added, in a lowered voice.
"I thought the list didn't get leaked until tomorrow?"
"Natalie knows a guy. She's getting an email tonight."
Dan frowned, and then he got it. "Because it's after midnight, so it's technically tomorrow."
"Exactly."
"And you wanted Casey to see the list so if I freaked out, he won't be gloating at the same time?"
There should have been a word for a movement that was half a shrug and half a cringe -- a shringe maybe -- because that was what Dana did. She shringed and said, "Kinda."
"And he won't because..."
"He's an idiot."
"Uh-huh," Dan said, and she shringed again. "How about we do it the other way around? I'll see the list first and then Casey doesn't have to see my honest reaction."
"That's probably not a good idea--" Dana started, but was interrupted by Natalie sprinting into the room, waving pages of printer paper above her head.
"We've got it!" Natalie announced, then she glanced at the couch and saw Dan. She pulled her arms down fast. "Um, I mean, tomorrow's rundown. We got the rundown sheet to print. But clearly not enough copies for everyone, so I'll go back to the printer."
"Smooth," Dan said. "Read out the damn list."
Natalie stuck out her chin and bluffed in a truly horrible way. "It's not a list, it's a rundown sheet."
"It's a list."
"It's a rundown sheet."
"It's a--"
"It's a list," Dana interrupted, stopping them before they devolved to calling each other big meanies. (It had happened in the past, and might happen again. Dan and Natalie had a unique way of arguing that Jeremy and Casey had learnt not to mock.) "Nat, Dan knows."
Shaking her head slowly, Natalie stage-whispered, "It's amazing you keep your coffee stash a secret."
Dan perked up. "You have a coffee stash?"
"One, no, I don't. Two, remember the list, the important list? Can we focus on that, please?"
Natalie leaned down, but didn't whisper quietly enough. "I was trying to distract him."
"With my coffee!" Dana hissed back.
"From the list." Natalie rustled the papers in her hand.
"Ladies," Dan said, and Natalie snapped upright so quickly she nearly overbalanced, "how about you just tell me what number Casey is this year, and then we can all go home?"
Dana turned to Natalie expectantly.
"I don't know," Natalie said, "I only printed it. I didn't read it."
"Then how about you read it now?" Dana said, voicing Dan's thoughts.
Natalie shot Dana an unimpressed look, as if Dana should be shooing Dan out of the room and refusing to acknowledge his presence and Dana knew it. Dana gazed back with an expression that clearly stated that while Casey was being the biggest idiot ever, Natalie was currently vying for second place in that competition.
Dan took a moment to wonder when he'd started to understand women's looks.
"Fine," Natalie said, and turned over the first page. And the second. When she got to the third, she stopped. "Seventy-eight."
Natalie whooped and passed the page to Dana. Dan realized that this was the time to show his enthusiasm.
"Seventy-eight from ninety-two? In twelve months? We are damn good," he said, standing up and wondering if he'd have to see Casey in the elevator if he left now. "Or Casey is, but you know that if I wasn't doing my bit, he wouldn't look half as good."
"That's not the reason we're grinning, you doofus," Natalie said with a smile so wide the top of her head was in danger of falling off. "You're on the list."
"Cool!" Suddenly his smile didn't feel so fake. "What number?" He wasn't competitive, he wasn't, but damnit he deserved at least a ninety-two.
Dana called out, like the most hyperactive cheerleader ever, "Seventy-nine, baby!"
"Casey and I are seventy-eight and seventy-nine?" Dan asked, making sure he'd heard that right. The girls nodded. He clapped his hands together and raised his arms in victory, and possibly looked a little like a psycho cheerleader himself. Possibly, Dana should start keeping pom-poms in her office. "Fantastic! Beyond fantastic! This is... fantastic, Dana! We've got to tell Casey."
"Casey doesn't want to know," Dana replied, still smiling. But they were all smiling now. "He doesn't want to know anything until he has a copy of the magazine."
"That's only because he's an idiot," Dan called out, already stepping into the hallway and hoping he could catch Casey before he left.
"That's what I've been saying!"
***
Casey was sitting in the conference room, sorting through his wallet. The table was littered with scrunched up white and yellow receipts.
"You know how there are some times when, in the course of being your best friend, I stand steadfast and defend you in the face of baseless criticism and insults," Dan said, letting the glass door swoosh closed behind him, "and there are other times when being a good friend means bursting your ego bubble and giving you a hard time when you're doing the wrong thing?"
"Uh-huh," Casey said, frowning at a business card in his hand. "Do you remember anyone called Kathy?"
"Not off the top of my head."
"I have her number," Casey said, holding up the card and the red-inked phone digits scrawled on the back. "I don't remember getting her number. Do you think I could call her up and ask?"
"No, I don't." Dan took the card from Casey's hands and ignored Casey's surprised glare. "But we were talking about you being an idiot."
"No, we weren't."
"Yes," Dan corrected, "we were."
"I'm pretty sure I would have remembered if that was the topic of conversation. Why would that be the topic of conversation?"
"Because you are."
"Because I'm what?"
"An idiot," Dan said slowly.
Holding his hands up, Casey signalled for a time out. "This conversation is making no sense. Like, none. I have no idea what we're talking about."
Pulling out a chair, Dan sat beside Casey. He could have sat at the head of the table -- it was only the two of them there -- but no one sat in Isaac's chair. "We're talking about Dana being right, you being an idiot, and the list being out."
"It gets leaked tomorrow." Casey's confused frown smoothed out, disappointment tightening the corners of his mouth.
"Natalie knows a guy."
"It got leaked today?" Casey asked, flattening his hands on the desk. Dan nodded. "Why don't they just publish the damn thing and be done with it? It's bad enough that one issue of Sports Illustrated gets dragged down by this air of mean-spirited competition and rivalry, but they should be able to contain it to a publishing date. They shouldn't be able to spread the pointless pettiness of this list two days early."
"Gee, competition. In the world of sports," Dan deadpanned. "I'm dumbfounded. You should write a complaint. Or better yet, you should stop being an idiot and admit that the list is important to you."
"It's not important to me."
"You care about it, Casey."
Casey set his jaw. "I don't care about it."
"You care about whether or not you're on it. You care about where you're on it, if you're on it," Dan said, but Casey shook his head. "You care about it, Casey. Just admit it."
"I don't care about it." If Casey had been the type of guy to indulge in pointless dramatic gestures, this would have been the moment to stand up and exit the conference room in a huff. So that was precisely what Casey did.
Dan followed him to their office and closed the door behind him. Crossing his arms, he leaned against it, blocking the exit in case Casey felt the need for another dramatic action. "You get that I'm not going to have a meltdown just because you care about a list? A list, I might add, that is prepared by our peers and acknowledges our hard work and talent."
"I don't."
"You don't get that?"
"I don't care. Danny, I don't care. I am not losing sleep at night over this. I don't care if I'm on the list. I don't care if I'm not. Personally, I'd prefer the list didn't exist at all." Casey paused, pulling his sweater on. "But since I don't have the power to make that happen, I'm happy to settle for ignoring it."
Casey took a few steps towards the door, but Dan didn't move. "So you're saying… you don't care?"
"I don't even care about whatever lame reason Dana had for dragging you into this," Casey said, taking one step closer and then stopping when Dan, and Dan's crossed arms, remained statue-still. "And I still don't believe all her BS about protecting the delicate gears of the Sports Night machine. Now can I go home?"
Dan grinned. "You haven't asked where you are on the list."
"I don't care. Danny, when I say I don't care, I honestly mean--"
"That you care, a lot, but you don't want to admit it," Dan finished. "Which is fine. I appreciate the attempt to be considerate of my feelings, but the consideration is not needed, and this constant denial of something that you really want is getting annoying. So suck it up and be honest."
Casey huffed and then looked out at the skyline. The silent treatment. Fun.
Clearly, Dan needed to tread a little more carefully. Possibly he should try using logic. "Why would you worry about jinxing something you don't care about?"
"Danny, I've had this argument with Lisa too many times. I don't want to have it with you. If I say I don't care and I act like I don't care, isn't that enough?"
"Wait," Dan said, and this time it was him using the time out signal. "When did this become about Lisa?"
"About Lisa, about Charlie, and I don't want it to be about you because I'm not that guy."
Perhaps, to Casey, that made sense but it left Dan confused. "Not what guy?"
"The guy who does that," Casey said pleadingly. "The guy who prioritizes his job and his career and his ego over the people he loves. I'm not that guy."
"No, you're not. But you don't have to fake indifference to prove it. You're seventy-eight on the list. It's a big deal. You should be thrilled about it."
Casey didn't look thrilled. He looked wary and tired, like a man who'd returned from the front lines to find his homeland invaded. "Okay."
"Hell, I'm seventy-nine on the list, and I'm planning on throwing a party."
Casey froze, his face blank for one heart-stopping moment. And then he smiled. "Seventy-nine? That's fantastic."
"Tell me about it," Dan said, spreading his arms wide. "We are seventy-eight and seventy-nine, my friend. I mean, there are still seventy-seven people more influential than us, but out of nearly two hundred million Americans, we made the top hundred. That's a big achievement."
Casey snorted. "But not all of those Americans are interested in sports, are they, Danny?"
"Dude, quit raining on my parade."
"And the ones that are interested," Casey said, still grinning that scarily wide grin, "most of them aren't involved in sports in any professional manner."
"I won't invite you to my party."
"You're really having a party?"
"Sure. It'll be known as the 'Dan Rydell is a huge honking success!' party. There'll be a banner and everything." Dan slid his hands through the air, picturing the banner hung across their office window. It would probably say something like 'Dan and Casey, welcome to the 78th percentile', but as long as it was something glitzy and celebratory, it could just be their names for all he cared. Then he froze as something Casey said earlier suddenly registered. "Wait-- love?"
Casey blinked. "As far as nicknames go, I don't think that one's going to catch on. And as a term of endearment, it's probably best kept to people you've actually slept with."
"No, I mean, people you love?"
"I'd ask to buy a vowel, Danny," Casey said, and for a moment, they shared the same slightly confused expression, "but what I really need is some context."
"You said, and I quote 'blah blah blah, prioritizing ego, blah, blah, blah, people you love'."
"Exact quote, huh?"
Dan clicked his fingers in front of Casey's face. Whenever Natalie did that to him, it was incredibly annoying but he felt justified doing it now. "You used the term 'people you love' when referring to me. You see the significance here?"
Casey laughed at the ridiculous insinuation. "You're my best friend, Danny."
Anyone walking by, anyone watching Casey on TV, would have been fooled. But Dan had known the man for over a decade, had seen him day after day, had seen him at his best and at his worst; Dan could hear the panic there.
"Please," Dan said with the most sarcasm he could manage, "give me some credit. We've just gone through this whole 'lying about stuff you care about' and my freakish ability to see through your fake indifference. What makes you think you'll be convincing this time?"
"I've convinced you for the last three and half years--" Casey stopped talking. He possibly stopped breathing, too, as his face went redder and redder. After a long moment of silence, he said very quietly, "Any chance we can just ignore that?"
It took Dan a moment to find his voice. "Not a chance."
"Figures." Casey took a deep breath and seemed to suddenly realize that they'd had the whole conversation while standing barely a foot from each other. He took a jerky step back.
"Uh-uh." Dan grabbed at the first thing available -- which happened to be Casey's tie -- and pulled. Casey made an uncomfortable gurgling sound as he stumbled closer, and Dan reached up to loosen the tie, saying, "Not quite what I meant to do there. Next time, I'll grab for the sweater. And why are you wearing a tie with a sweater? Are you trying to dress like someone's grandfather?"
"Monica won't let me wear the suit jackets home. Not since the blue margarita incident."
"Ah," Dan said knowledgeably, remembering the spill and the stain and the three days of Casey being dressed in shades of brown, brown and more brown. He kept fingering today's tie -- a deep green -- thinking that, despite the new jacket rule, Casey had clearly been forgiven. When Casey was apologetic, it could be nearly impossible to maintain righteous outrage against his inherent, generally well-intentioned stupidity.
Dan left his fingers hooked under the knot, so when Casey swallowed, he felt it. "Um, Dan?"
"Yeah?"
"Going to let go any time soon?"
Dan glanced at his fingers. They looked pale against Casey's flushed skin. "Not planning on it."
Rare as it was, Casey seemed lost for words.
Dan started undoing Casey's tie, the actions familiar in a back-to-front, inside-out way. When he finished, he finally looked away from his hands and met Casey's nervous, embarrassed expression. "Speechless is a good look on you."
Casey nearly smiled but abandoned the movement at the last minute. For a moment, Dan felt unbelievably stupid, standing against the door of their office, holding onto the hanging ends of Casey's tie. The knitted wool of Casey's sweater was soft against Dan's knuckles, shifting as Casey breathed.
Casey cleared his throat. "Isn't this the point where you say you're flattered, but--"
"You're an idiot."
"Hey, what happened to being flattered? Since when did unwanted attention warrant outright ridicule--"
"Three and a half years? Three and a half years, and you couldn't say anything sooner?"
Lifting his chin up, Casey glared down -- using that whole inch of height difference as much as he could. "Excuse me for wanting to avoid a conversation as awkward and ultimately humiliating as this. Clearly your gossipy need to pry into my personal life should have been my highest concern."
"You really think that's what's going on here?"
"Isn't it?"
Dan tightened his hold on Casey's tie, and tugged at it until Casey glanced down. "I know you can be oblivious, but the fact that I'm not letting go should tell you something. Even you should be able to read that sign."
If it had been football, Casey would have recognized the play and already been speculating on the quarterback's likelihood of a touchdown. If it had been basketball or baseball -- or, hell, even soccer -- Casey would have seen it coming. But it wasn't.
So instead of leaning forward when Dan did, instead of tilting his head, Casey stood there, stunned, as Dan kissed him. To Casey's credit, it only took him a moment to get with the program, wrap his arms around Dan's shoulders, and kiss back.
"Huh," he heard Casey say dazedly.
That probably meant that Dan was supposed to be the articulate one. He started with a sigh. "Three and a half years, Casey."
"I was married."
Dan finally let go of Casey's tie -- to lightly punch him in the shoulder. "You got divorced."
"I didn't want you to think this was some crazy divorce rebound thing." Casey shrugged. "Because it isn't."
Dan rolled his eyes. "A rebound happens after the end of a relationship, not before."
"I didn't know if you'd know that."
"I do."
"Well," Casey said, not quite annoyed, "now I know."
***
The banner actually said, "Congratulations!" with "Now there are only
"We were seventy eight and seventy nine," Dan pointed out when the not-quite-a-surprise party was thrown in the bullpen.
Natalie gave him her patented 'are you really this stupid?' stare. "Dana and Isaac weren't on the list."
"That explains it," Casey said, avoiding Dan's gaze. He'd been like that all morning: dampened and furtive, no casual touches, no extended banter, no eye contact. Except for the moments when he forgot and looked at Dan, and then broke into a grin that was so smug and satisfied it was almost pornographic. The entire bullpen would know by the four o'clock rundown.
Dan was surprisingly okay with that.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2010-02-16 03:27 pm (UTC)*twitterpates*
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Date: 2010-02-16 09:38 pm (UTC)OMG. I love watching them all be stupid and overprotective of each other, and zomg the tie, and generally, YAY.
*twirls* I'm so glad you liked it. Originally, this story was totally going to be for you -- you were suffering through the last three days of an old job -- and it never got done in time. But good to know that even ridiculously late, it still hit the spot.
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Date: 2010-02-22 03:37 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2010-02-28 05:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-02 01:15 am (UTC)Well, they're boys. There's a limit to how amazingly insightful they can be while using so much of their brains for sports trivia!
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Date: 2010-02-16 09:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-16 09:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-16 11:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-16 09:35 pm (UTC)I can imagine that NYC would leave you nostalgic for SN (or experiencing a New York Renaisance, maybe), so I'm glad this hit the spot.
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Date: 2010-02-16 01:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-16 09:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-16 03:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-16 09:44 pm (UTC)The boys do have a wonderful ability to hide meaning within everyday gestures and seemingly pointless conversation. There's a lot that they say without exactly saying it, there's a lot they interpret through signs,a nd not letting go of Casey's tie was a big sign.
(And only Casey would be obtuse enough not to get it a lot quicker.)
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Date: 2010-02-16 05:45 pm (UTC)"I'd ask to buy a vowel, Danny," Casey said, and for a moment, they shared the same slightly confused expression, "but what I really need is some context."
There is something about this line that makes me want to hug it and take it home and make it hot chocolate. ♥
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Date: 2010-02-16 09:50 pm (UTC)Awwwwww! I have to say, that's one of my favourite lines (and one of the lines that I really worried if it would work in a written story; I can hear Peter Kruase saying it and picture the reaction on Josh Charles' face, but wasn't sure if it would come through for readers). But it totally deserves hugs and hot chocolate.
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Date: 2010-02-16 09:10 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2010-02-17 12:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-17 01:57 am (UTC)*beams* That's such a high compliment. You're right, there should be new episodes. It's a real pity there isn't/aren't.
Word of the day : shringe
Date: 2010-02-17 01:58 am (UTC)Re: Word of the day : shringe
Date: 2010-02-17 09:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-23 06:20 am (UTC)..my reviewing skills are that of legend, clearly.
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Date: 2010-02-23 07:25 am (UTC)*laughs* You clearly merit the best bagels and muffins from across the land.
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Date: 2010-02-25 06:25 pm (UTC)(I just finished rereading Not Homophobic for the umteenth time. I failed to do much yesterday cause all I wanted to do was read.)
I miss the boys, thank you so much for bringing them back. When you write them it's just like have the show back, except that they finally admit that they're in love. ♥ ♥ ♥
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Date: 2010-02-26 12:21 am (UTC)Aw, thank you! That's wonderful to hear.
I miss the boys, thank you so much for bringing them back. When you write them it's just like have the show back, except that they finally admit that they're in love.
Hee! Clearly, that should have been the plotline for s3!
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Date: 2010-02-27 10:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-02 01:16 am (UTC)You are so very much the win.
Thank you!
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Date: 2010-04-14 06:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-14 10:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-21 04:27 pm (UTC)I like your Casey and the way he blurts out the truth by accident.
"any chance we can just ignore that?" so so Casey
The three last sentences of your fic made me EEEEEE with glee.
I can imagine Casey behaving just like that.
Lovely.
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Date: 2011-11-22 03:24 am (UTC)I like your Casey and the way he blurts out the truth by accident.
"any chance we can just ignore that?" so so Casey
Casey is one of those characters that I love as much for his failings as his virtues. He tries so hard to be a good guy -- doesn't always succeed, but he thinks it's important enough to try -- and he can be incredibly sweet and considerate at times.
The three last sentences of your fic made me EEEEEE with glee. I can imagine Casey behaving just like that.
A happy, dorky Casey is a wonderful thing.