SN Fic: That Guy (Unbeta'd)
Jan. 9th, 2004 06:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
out_thereWell, I'm looking at the new SN moodtheme floating around LJ and I *want* it. Unfortunately, I also have a shocking headache, so I just can't make sense of Celli's and Shellah's helpful advice. It doesn't matter. It shall eventually be mine. (Just not today.)
Hey, the half-finished fic? Was 1700 words. By the time it was finished, it was about 3600 words. Am truly impressed that when I said half-done, it really was only half-done.
I'm not sure how well it works. It was a bit of an experiment to try to use present tense, second person (or, in other words, watch Annie have fun pretending to be![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bananasrock *g*). And plotwise, it ran away from me. I don't think Casey ended up being quite as nasty as he could have been, but still... *shrugs* It just... went in a direction that I really didn't expect.
As always, volunteers for beta duty will be loved and huggedand receive many sexual favours.
That Guy
He's smiling at you all through the party and when you steal into the deserted living room to quickly catch the end of the game, he follows.
You watch the last ten minutes and wish your team had won. He turns to you with a dry grin, and you sincerely hope that he doesn't say something stupid.
"The coach should have substituted," he declares, as if it's obvious.
"He swapped a player who can't run for a player who can," you reply, even though you know he could be right. You can hear the slur in your own voice and realize that Lisa was right. You should have stopped drinking three beers ago.
The guy rolls his eyes but the friendly grin is still there. "He substituted a player who can't run for a player who can't kick."
You laugh. It’s true, but it’s not obvious. Not many people would have realized that. You're about to say as much when Laura spots you and shepherds you back to the party.
When the party winds down, you've had a few more beers and you’ve had your fill of boring conversation. You need to call a cab. You know Lisa's not going to be happy about driving you home at three in the morning, especially when you’re as drunk as this. But then he, the guy who watches sports and understands it, offers you a ride home.
"You didn't drink?" you ask. You are drunk, and you're staring at his eyes, so you actually notice the sudden chill in them.
After a moment, his eyes warm up and he says, "I don't drink."
You speak without thinking. "Then this party must have been really boring for you." The words tumble out of your mouth and then you look around for Laura, hoping she didn't overhear. That would just be rude.
He laughs, either at your comment or the guilty way you're scanning the crowd. Listening to the warm chuckle, you honestly don't care what he's laughing at. You laugh with him and follow him downstairs.
He leads you down to his car, some beat-up tin can suited to a young college student, and asks where you want to go.
"Anywhere but home," you say with a sigh, leaning back against the headrest and closing your eyes. You can almost feel him staring at you, and when you pry your eyes open, he's watching you and biting his lower lip.
"We could go back to my place. Catch the rerun of the game," he offers and you nod, closing your eyes again.
When you reach his place, you follow him into the bedroom without a second thought. The light from his small kitchen streams through the open door and you stand behind him, watching him pull off his thick jacket. It isn't a surprise when he turns around and kisses you. The kiss itself is surprisingly hungry, and you're pulling at his shirt, starving for contact. You think vaguely of false advertising, of soft-looking lips and demanding mouths, but mostly, you just think about how good this feels.
He starts to walk backwards and you follow, but the combination of alcohol and lust makes you stumble.
You land on the bed, spread out on top of him, and within seconds he has you flipped over, pinned beneath him as he grinds down. You gasp and reach for him, not sure if you want to pull him closer. You should push him away. "I'm not," you say, but your words get swallowed in a kiss. When he pulls back, you're panting, but you need to tell him. "This isn't me."
He gives you a strange look, hungry, amused and a little curious. "You're not Casey?" he asks, and his voice sounds like laughter.
You shake your head and say, "Yes." He muffles his laugh against your throat. There's a brief flare of guilt as you can't remember his name. It was something short. Biblical. Luke? John? James? You think that it might have been David or Dave, but they don't feel quite right.
He bites down on your shoulder and you moan, "Dan." From his answering groan, you guess you got it right.
"Dan," you repeat, because you should know the name of whoever's undressing you. "This isn't me. I don't do this."
"Do what?" he breaths into your ear. It makes you shiver and clutch at him, makes your thoughts stop. He drags his teeth across your earlobe and you burrow your hands beneath his shirt. Distracted by the warm skin against your palms, it takes you a moment to process his question. "What don't you do, Casey?"
You don't accept lifts from total strangers, you want to say. You don't drink this much. You stopped sleeping with college students when you stopped being one. You don't fuck guys. Which is true, apart from a couple months in high school (which doesn't really count). Instead, you say, "I don't cheat on my fiancee. I'm not the kind of guy who does that."
He nods against your skin, and then leans down to lick a wet line across your chest. You fingers fumble with his fly.
"I'm not that guy," you say sincerely, hoping he'll understand, even as your hand wraps around his cock. He groans as you start to stroke and you repeat, "I'm not that guy."
* * *
It was an unexpected win. Not only unexpected, but the score difference absolutely humiliated the other team. You're in the middle of typing up the introduction when Dan speaks.
"What happened?" he says, tilting his head to the side as he watches you type.
"Unexpected win," you say, reading over the last two sentences and deciding to delete them.
"That isn't why you're trying to brutally murder your keyboard, Casey," Dan says with a gentle smile. You look at Dan and sigh exhaustedly. "Argument with Lisa?" he guesses and you close your eyes and nod.
"New York," you explain and he winces. It's overly dramatic, and done for your benefit, but you appreciate it anyway.
"She still wants you to stay at Lonestar?" Dan asks, pushing his pad of paper away from him, script temporarily ignored.
"She wants to stay in Dallas," you reply. She's got family here, friends here. In the end, that was the one thing that made her forgive you for accepting the job at Lonestar Sports.
Dan shrugs. "Was it bad?"
"It was bad," you confirm.
"How bad?" Dan asks and you think that from some angles, Dan looks hawkish, like a bird searching for prey.
"Bad."
"How bad, Casey?" he asks, looking at you intently. You wish Dan would drop this topic of conversation but you know Dan's not going to let go of this. True to form, Dan continues questioning. "Are we talking staining your best suit with mustard bad, or Germany invading France bad?"
You wonder at Dan's choice of metaphors and say, "More like the bombing of Hiroshima bad."
Dan winces and this time you know it's real. It's subtle, and you can see him trying to hide it. "Who was Hiroshima?" he asks quietly, staring down at his pen.
You push the chair away from your double desk and stand up, just for something to do. "It's more accurate to say it was World War III, complete with nuclear arsenal."
"Yeah?" Dan asks and waits. Dan is one of the few people you know who can make silence supportive. It's certainly a skill that Lisa's never learned.
"Yeah," you sigh, and flop back down into your chair. "We started bickering over bills and it just..." You trail off and shrug. You're used to arguing about money. You're not poor, but there's never quite enough of it. Dan's knows that you can't afford everything Lisa wants. "I don't know Dan. I don't know how we went from arguing over the long-distance phone bill to shouting at each other over breakfast." You don't know how you went from being in love to fighting all the time, either.
"Sounds bad," Dan offers gently, watching your clenched fists.
You press you hands flat against the cheap wooden desk. "She accused me of not loving her and Charlie. She said I was only thinking of myself and my career. That I was treating my family like baggage that I had to lug around." You spit the words out but they still hurt. "I'm not moving them across the country for the hell of it, Dan. I don't put my career before my family. I'm not that guy," you snarl, hearing your voice rise.
Dan sighs. "I know you're not, Casey," Dan says and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "What else happened?"
"What?" you ask, confused at the question.
Dan stares at you for a long second but you still don't understand. "What did you say to her?" he prompts and you look away, ashamed.
"I said that if they were just baggage, then I didn't need to carry them with me. The offer in New York didn't depend upon me convincing my shrew of a wife,” you recite, staring at your closed door and wishing you'd never said those things to Lisa. "I said that I could take the job with or without her and Charlie."
Looking over at Dan, you see him watching you calmly, letting you talk without condemning you. Sometimes, you wonder how you were lucky enough to have him as a friend.
You sigh. "The really stupid thing? I wouldn't want to go to New York without them. It's a good job and the pay's great," you say and Dan nods. The jobs sound fantastic, and the pay rise is substantial. They offered you almost double your current salary. "It's enough that Lisa won't have to worry about long-distance phone bills anymore. It's enough that she can stop talking about going back to work." You stare at your hands, thinking. "Also, it's a new start. I love Charlie. And Lisa, but I can't help thinking that starting over in a new place might be good for us." You sigh again and suddenly feel exhausted. "I'm sick of fighting with her, Dan."
Dan reaches over and pushes the shared phone towards you. "Call Lisa," he says. "And tell her that."
"Yeah?" you query as Dan stands up and walks towards the door.
"She needs to hear it, Casey," he says, and then leaves the room. The door closes with a soft click as you pick up the phone. After a second, you dial your home number and wait for Lisa to answer.
* * *
Dan stepped casually into the room.
"I can't believe she said that," you say before he has a chance to speak. Dan gives you a surprised look and you repeat, "I can't believe she said that."
Dan looks around the room. Since he's in Dana's office, he's probably looking for her, but you figure he's your best friend and a vital part of friendship is commiserating over injustices. "I really can't believe she said that I was petty and jealous. And immature!"
"Childish," Dan corrects. "She said you were childish, Casey, not immature."
"You heard?" you ask irritably, letting your head thump back against the back of Dana's couch.
"At the volume you and Dana were arguing? In the conference room?" Dan asks disbelievingly and you sigh. "I'd say half the studio heard."
Dan's half grin annoys you and you grind out, "You could be a little more sympathetic."
Dan snorts. "You kept Dana back ten minutes after rundown, on a busy day, just to tell say that her new boyfriend is a loser. You can't really expect sympathy," Dan says and chuckles.
"What about the fact that I'm right and she is incredibly, erroneously wrong?" you demand, standing up.
"Erroneously wrong, Casey?" Dan asks, so clearly amused. "Does that mean she was actually right?"
You bristle at the suggestion. "No. It means that she was really wrong, Dan. I am not petty. And I am not immature."
"Childish," Dan corrects again and you ignore him.
"And I'm not jealous," you state indignantly.
"The guy isn't that bad. He's a bit of a wet rag, and annoyingly smug, but he treats her well. Compared to Gordon, he's an absolute prince. Nobody but you has any objections to him," Dan says, and you can't believe he's taking her side in this. "Doesn't that tell you something, Casey?"
"I can't believe you're defending him," you reply.
"Casey, just admit you're jealous," Dan mocks with a smile.
"I'm not jealous, Dan. I thought you knew me better than that. I'm not that guy."
"You know what, Casey?" The smile falls from Dan's face and his eyes flare. "You *are* that guy. You are jealous and petty and childish. The only reason you don't want Dana seeing this guy, is that it's not you."
You blink and take a half-step back, away from Dan's sudden anger. "I don't want Dana. We worked that out months ago."
Dan's voice is quiet, but it's still furious. "I know you don't want Dana. You just don't want her to be happy with anyone else."
"You're wrong." Your jaw is tense and you clench your teeth together, trying not to say anything too insulting. "But it's still between Dana and me, so I don't see why you're getting so upset about this, Dan."
"It's between Dana and you, apart from when you have to tell me all about it?" Dan asks and laughs mirthlessly. "Maybe I'm upset because you're both friends and colleagues, and this is ridiculous. Maybe I'm sick of seeing our show stilted because the two of you can't work this out like adults."
"You know this hasn't affected the show," you shoot back, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.
"Maybe I'm sick of seeing my so-called best friend lying through his teeth. You are that guy, Casey. You're petty and selfish and jealous. You put your own needs before others’, and then stand around sanctimoniously, pretending to be a saint," Dan explodes and then pauses, taking a deep breath. "Just for once, I'd like to see you admit it."
You stand there in shock, not sure what you should defend and deny first. You watch Dan rub the back of his neck and shake his head gently. You watch him edge back towards the door, and avoid you with a tight smile. "Don't worry about it, Case."
"What's this about?" you ask, worried because you know Dan and you know this isn't good.
"I'm just..." he starts and his skate across the room, but don't settle on you. "Don't worry about it. I shouldn't have said it."
"But you did," you remind him. "So tell me what this is about, Dan."
"I think you are jealous," he says quietly. "I think you just don't want to admit it. And I'm..."
"What?" you ask softly, sitting back down on Dana's couch.
"I'm sick of you lying about it, Casey," he says and looks at you. Your eyes widen in shock as you see the hurt in Danny's eyes. Whatever this is really about, it's important to Danny. "I'm sick of you lying to yourself about it. I'm sick... I'm sick of having a friendship based on mutual deception."
You run a hand through your hair, and wish Danny would make sense. "What do you mean?"
Dan crosses his arms in front of his chest and folds in on himself. "I'm sick of you always being the good one, Casey. You're not. You get jealous and petty and competitive just like everyone else. You lie and you hurt other people. And you're selfish."
"Yeah?" you say, and you can't help the defensive note of challenge in your voice.
He looks up at you again, and seems almost as confused as you feel. "And that's okay, Casey. It doesn't make you a bad person, it just makes you human. It just makes you imperfect. You're still a good guy, all in all, but you're not perfect."
You shake your head. "I've never claimed to be perfect, Danny."
"No, but you always say you're not that guy, and sometimes you are. You warned Dana because you're jealous, not because the guy's bad for her. You did put your career before your family," Dan says softly.
"Don't you dare state that I didn't care about them," you warn, defenses at the ready.
Dan walks over and sits down next to you on the couch. "I know you loved them, Casey. But this job isn't exactly ideal for a family. You're out basically all night. You'd only really get to see them during the morning. You work an exhausting number of hours each day. It's hard to be single and date with this schedule. How could you fit in a family?" Dan sighs and hugs himself tighter. "I'm not saying that you didn't love them. But can't you admit that this wasn't the best job for a guy with a family? Just once, can't you admit that you could have chosen a different job? That if you'd really put them first, you would have chosen something 9 to 5, something that let you spend more time with them?"
You watch Dan, but he doesn't look up at you. "I could have," you say uncertainly, and wish you knew what Dan needed to hear. "But I wouldn't have been happy. I would have been miserable, Dan, and I would have taken it out on Lisa. I would have blamed her for not being able to follow my dreams. I would have ended up hating her. Choosing another job wouldn't have made us work."
Dan nods and says, "That's not what I meant, Casey." He sighs and when he speaks, his chin is tucked down against his chest, his shoulders high against his ears. "I mean that you lie, and you won't admit it. I know that you pass out when you drink spirits and you never remember the night before. I also know that if you're drinking beer, you *always* remember the night before. I know that," he pauses and looks up at you, and Dan actually looks scared. Without thinking, you rest a hand on his shoulder and wait for him to finish. "I know that you are that guy, Casey. I know that you remember that you cheated on Lisa."
Your mouth falls open in surprise and your face flushes in pure embarrassment. You just don't have anything to say to that. You don't bother denying that he's right, that you lied about not remembering a thing from that night. You just never knew how to deal with it.
"It's not a big deal, Casey. You're not the only guy to cheat on your wife. Plenty of guys do it and it doesn't make you a terrible person. It just makes you flawed."
"Fiancee," you correct, and Dan raises his brows at you. "I didn't cheat on my wife. I cheated on my fiancee." It doesn't make much difference, but it feels important.
"I'm supposed to believe that you stopped cheating on her once you married her?" Dan asks, not unkindly.
"I didn't stop, Dan. I never started," you say, trying to get your thoughts straight. "It wasn't something I did. Like, regularly. It was something that happened once, with this amazing guy I met a party. When I was too drunk to remember how much I loved Lisa."
"Really?" Dan sounds surprised, and you wonder if he's spent years thinking that you were cheating on her. Somehow, the thought hurts.
You wipe your palms on your slacks, and explain, "It was just once, and I woke up with a bad hangover, thinking I'd ruined my life. I loved Lisa. And I'm not gay. I mean, I'd mucked around with one guy when I was fifteen and..." You sigh and Dan uncurls his arms from around his chest, turning to watch you.
"How many women had you slept with?"
"If you make one crack about being inexperienced, Dan," you say, trailing off but relieved for the change of topic.
"No, I'm serious. I always thought you... How many people had you slept with?" Dan asks, and you can hear the genuine curiosity in his tone.
"I had three girlfriends before Lisa," you admit and wait to see Dan's reaction.
"You got married to Lisa and had only slept with five other people?" Dan asks incredulously.
"I don't even know why we're talking about this," you gripe in response.
"Because I," Dan starts and stops again, and you can see his shoulders tensing beneath his shirt.
Remembering Dan's past comments, you wonder about something. "You said you were sick of *mutual* deception."
"I'm sick of us both lying, Casey. I'm sick of you always being the good one. And I'm sick of always being the cool one," Dan states slowly.
"You are the cool one," you object, confused again.
"I'm sick of pretending to be the cool one. To be the guy who's got it all under control, who knows what he's doing." You're tempted to say that no-one thinks of him like that, but you don't want to interrupt. It wouldn't be strictly true, either. "To be the guy that can always laugh it off, the guy you don't need to worry about," Dan says as he crosses his arms again. "I'm not that guy. I don't always have it under control. Sometimes, I can barely hold it together."
"You don't have to hold it together by yourself," you remind him, and hope Danny remembers that there is very little that his friends wouldn't do for him.
"I know that, Casey, but I need... I want to tell you when I'm falling apart, but I can't do it if I'm supposed to be the cool one. I can't do it if you're going to sit there and pretend to be the good one. I can't," Dan says desperately and you reach over to hold him.
Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you say, "Then don't. Don't pretend. You admit that sometimes you don't have it together. You admit when things are slipping away from you. And I'll admit that I'm human, that sometimes I screw up and I don't know what the hell I'm doing. Deal?" Dan nods and breathes deeply, and you try not to worry too much about him.
"I just... God, Case," Dan mumbles and you pull him against you, holding him tighter. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes back. When he pulls away, he looks relieved and he gives you a quick smile.
"It's okay, Dan. We don't have to be those guys. We can just be us," you say, and think that you're not that guy, but for Dan, you can be *this* guy.
THE END
Hey, the half-finished fic? Was 1700 words. By the time it was finished, it was about 3600 words. Am truly impressed that when I said half-done, it really was only half-done.
I'm not sure how well it works. It was a bit of an experiment to try to use present tense, second person (or, in other words, watch Annie have fun pretending to be
bananasrock *g*). And plotwise, it ran away from me. I don't think Casey ended up being quite as nasty as he could have been, but still... *shrugs* It just... went in a direction that I really didn't expect.As always, volunteers for beta duty will be loved and hugged
That Guy
He's smiling at you all through the party and when you steal into the deserted living room to quickly catch the end of the game, he follows.
You watch the last ten minutes and wish your team had won. He turns to you with a dry grin, and you sincerely hope that he doesn't say something stupid.
"The coach should have substituted," he declares, as if it's obvious.
"He swapped a player who can't run for a player who can," you reply, even though you know he could be right. You can hear the slur in your own voice and realize that Lisa was right. You should have stopped drinking three beers ago.
The guy rolls his eyes but the friendly grin is still there. "He substituted a player who can't run for a player who can't kick."
You laugh. It’s true, but it’s not obvious. Not many people would have realized that. You're about to say as much when Laura spots you and shepherds you back to the party.
When the party winds down, you've had a few more beers and you’ve had your fill of boring conversation. You need to call a cab. You know Lisa's not going to be happy about driving you home at three in the morning, especially when you’re as drunk as this. But then he, the guy who watches sports and understands it, offers you a ride home.
"You didn't drink?" you ask. You are drunk, and you're staring at his eyes, so you actually notice the sudden chill in them.
After a moment, his eyes warm up and he says, "I don't drink."
You speak without thinking. "Then this party must have been really boring for you." The words tumble out of your mouth and then you look around for Laura, hoping she didn't overhear. That would just be rude.
He laughs, either at your comment or the guilty way you're scanning the crowd. Listening to the warm chuckle, you honestly don't care what he's laughing at. You laugh with him and follow him downstairs.
He leads you down to his car, some beat-up tin can suited to a young college student, and asks where you want to go.
"Anywhere but home," you say with a sigh, leaning back against the headrest and closing your eyes. You can almost feel him staring at you, and when you pry your eyes open, he's watching you and biting his lower lip.
"We could go back to my place. Catch the rerun of the game," he offers and you nod, closing your eyes again.
When you reach his place, you follow him into the bedroom without a second thought. The light from his small kitchen streams through the open door and you stand behind him, watching him pull off his thick jacket. It isn't a surprise when he turns around and kisses you. The kiss itself is surprisingly hungry, and you're pulling at his shirt, starving for contact. You think vaguely of false advertising, of soft-looking lips and demanding mouths, but mostly, you just think about how good this feels.
He starts to walk backwards and you follow, but the combination of alcohol and lust makes you stumble.
You land on the bed, spread out on top of him, and within seconds he has you flipped over, pinned beneath him as he grinds down. You gasp and reach for him, not sure if you want to pull him closer. You should push him away. "I'm not," you say, but your words get swallowed in a kiss. When he pulls back, you're panting, but you need to tell him. "This isn't me."
He gives you a strange look, hungry, amused and a little curious. "You're not Casey?" he asks, and his voice sounds like laughter.
You shake your head and say, "Yes." He muffles his laugh against your throat. There's a brief flare of guilt as you can't remember his name. It was something short. Biblical. Luke? John? James? You think that it might have been David or Dave, but they don't feel quite right.
He bites down on your shoulder and you moan, "Dan." From his answering groan, you guess you got it right.
"Dan," you repeat, because you should know the name of whoever's undressing you. "This isn't me. I don't do this."
"Do what?" he breaths into your ear. It makes you shiver and clutch at him, makes your thoughts stop. He drags his teeth across your earlobe and you burrow your hands beneath his shirt. Distracted by the warm skin against your palms, it takes you a moment to process his question. "What don't you do, Casey?"
You don't accept lifts from total strangers, you want to say. You don't drink this much. You stopped sleeping with college students when you stopped being one. You don't fuck guys. Which is true, apart from a couple months in high school (which doesn't really count). Instead, you say, "I don't cheat on my fiancee. I'm not the kind of guy who does that."
He nods against your skin, and then leans down to lick a wet line across your chest. You fingers fumble with his fly.
"I'm not that guy," you say sincerely, hoping he'll understand, even as your hand wraps around his cock. He groans as you start to stroke and you repeat, "I'm not that guy."
* * *
It was an unexpected win. Not only unexpected, but the score difference absolutely humiliated the other team. You're in the middle of typing up the introduction when Dan speaks.
"What happened?" he says, tilting his head to the side as he watches you type.
"Unexpected win," you say, reading over the last two sentences and deciding to delete them.
"That isn't why you're trying to brutally murder your keyboard, Casey," Dan says with a gentle smile. You look at Dan and sigh exhaustedly. "Argument with Lisa?" he guesses and you close your eyes and nod.
"New York," you explain and he winces. It's overly dramatic, and done for your benefit, but you appreciate it anyway.
"She still wants you to stay at Lonestar?" Dan asks, pushing his pad of paper away from him, script temporarily ignored.
"She wants to stay in Dallas," you reply. She's got family here, friends here. In the end, that was the one thing that made her forgive you for accepting the job at Lonestar Sports.
Dan shrugs. "Was it bad?"
"It was bad," you confirm.
"How bad?" Dan asks and you think that from some angles, Dan looks hawkish, like a bird searching for prey.
"Bad."
"How bad, Casey?" he asks, looking at you intently. You wish Dan would drop this topic of conversation but you know Dan's not going to let go of this. True to form, Dan continues questioning. "Are we talking staining your best suit with mustard bad, or Germany invading France bad?"
You wonder at Dan's choice of metaphors and say, "More like the bombing of Hiroshima bad."
Dan winces and this time you know it's real. It's subtle, and you can see him trying to hide it. "Who was Hiroshima?" he asks quietly, staring down at his pen.
You push the chair away from your double desk and stand up, just for something to do. "It's more accurate to say it was World War III, complete with nuclear arsenal."
"Yeah?" Dan asks and waits. Dan is one of the few people you know who can make silence supportive. It's certainly a skill that Lisa's never learned.
"Yeah," you sigh, and flop back down into your chair. "We started bickering over bills and it just..." You trail off and shrug. You're used to arguing about money. You're not poor, but there's never quite enough of it. Dan's knows that you can't afford everything Lisa wants. "I don't know Dan. I don't know how we went from arguing over the long-distance phone bill to shouting at each other over breakfast." You don't know how you went from being in love to fighting all the time, either.
"Sounds bad," Dan offers gently, watching your clenched fists.
You press you hands flat against the cheap wooden desk. "She accused me of not loving her and Charlie. She said I was only thinking of myself and my career. That I was treating my family like baggage that I had to lug around." You spit the words out but they still hurt. "I'm not moving them across the country for the hell of it, Dan. I don't put my career before my family. I'm not that guy," you snarl, hearing your voice rise.
Dan sighs. "I know you're not, Casey," Dan says and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "What else happened?"
"What?" you ask, confused at the question.
Dan stares at you for a long second but you still don't understand. "What did you say to her?" he prompts and you look away, ashamed.
"I said that if they were just baggage, then I didn't need to carry them with me. The offer in New York didn't depend upon me convincing my shrew of a wife,” you recite, staring at your closed door and wishing you'd never said those things to Lisa. "I said that I could take the job with or without her and Charlie."
Looking over at Dan, you see him watching you calmly, letting you talk without condemning you. Sometimes, you wonder how you were lucky enough to have him as a friend.
You sigh. "The really stupid thing? I wouldn't want to go to New York without them. It's a good job and the pay's great," you say and Dan nods. The jobs sound fantastic, and the pay rise is substantial. They offered you almost double your current salary. "It's enough that Lisa won't have to worry about long-distance phone bills anymore. It's enough that she can stop talking about going back to work." You stare at your hands, thinking. "Also, it's a new start. I love Charlie. And Lisa, but I can't help thinking that starting over in a new place might be good for us." You sigh again and suddenly feel exhausted. "I'm sick of fighting with her, Dan."
Dan reaches over and pushes the shared phone towards you. "Call Lisa," he says. "And tell her that."
"Yeah?" you query as Dan stands up and walks towards the door.
"She needs to hear it, Casey," he says, and then leaves the room. The door closes with a soft click as you pick up the phone. After a second, you dial your home number and wait for Lisa to answer.
* * *
Dan stepped casually into the room.
"I can't believe she said that," you say before he has a chance to speak. Dan gives you a surprised look and you repeat, "I can't believe she said that."
Dan looks around the room. Since he's in Dana's office, he's probably looking for her, but you figure he's your best friend and a vital part of friendship is commiserating over injustices. "I really can't believe she said that I was petty and jealous. And immature!"
"Childish," Dan corrects. "She said you were childish, Casey, not immature."
"You heard?" you ask irritably, letting your head thump back against the back of Dana's couch.
"At the volume you and Dana were arguing? In the conference room?" Dan asks disbelievingly and you sigh. "I'd say half the studio heard."
Dan's half grin annoys you and you grind out, "You could be a little more sympathetic."
Dan snorts. "You kept Dana back ten minutes after rundown, on a busy day, just to tell say that her new boyfriend is a loser. You can't really expect sympathy," Dan says and chuckles.
"What about the fact that I'm right and she is incredibly, erroneously wrong?" you demand, standing up.
"Erroneously wrong, Casey?" Dan asks, so clearly amused. "Does that mean she was actually right?"
You bristle at the suggestion. "No. It means that she was really wrong, Dan. I am not petty. And I am not immature."
"Childish," Dan corrects again and you ignore him.
"And I'm not jealous," you state indignantly.
"The guy isn't that bad. He's a bit of a wet rag, and annoyingly smug, but he treats her well. Compared to Gordon, he's an absolute prince. Nobody but you has any objections to him," Dan says, and you can't believe he's taking her side in this. "Doesn't that tell you something, Casey?"
"I can't believe you're defending him," you reply.
"Casey, just admit you're jealous," Dan mocks with a smile.
"I'm not jealous, Dan. I thought you knew me better than that. I'm not that guy."
"You know what, Casey?" The smile falls from Dan's face and his eyes flare. "You *are* that guy. You are jealous and petty and childish. The only reason you don't want Dana seeing this guy, is that it's not you."
You blink and take a half-step back, away from Dan's sudden anger. "I don't want Dana. We worked that out months ago."
Dan's voice is quiet, but it's still furious. "I know you don't want Dana. You just don't want her to be happy with anyone else."
"You're wrong." Your jaw is tense and you clench your teeth together, trying not to say anything too insulting. "But it's still between Dana and me, so I don't see why you're getting so upset about this, Dan."
"It's between Dana and you, apart from when you have to tell me all about it?" Dan asks and laughs mirthlessly. "Maybe I'm upset because you're both friends and colleagues, and this is ridiculous. Maybe I'm sick of seeing our show stilted because the two of you can't work this out like adults."
"You know this hasn't affected the show," you shoot back, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.
"Maybe I'm sick of seeing my so-called best friend lying through his teeth. You are that guy, Casey. You're petty and selfish and jealous. You put your own needs before others’, and then stand around sanctimoniously, pretending to be a saint," Dan explodes and then pauses, taking a deep breath. "Just for once, I'd like to see you admit it."
You stand there in shock, not sure what you should defend and deny first. You watch Dan rub the back of his neck and shake his head gently. You watch him edge back towards the door, and avoid you with a tight smile. "Don't worry about it, Case."
"What's this about?" you ask, worried because you know Dan and you know this isn't good.
"I'm just..." he starts and his skate across the room, but don't settle on you. "Don't worry about it. I shouldn't have said it."
"But you did," you remind him. "So tell me what this is about, Dan."
"I think you are jealous," he says quietly. "I think you just don't want to admit it. And I'm..."
"What?" you ask softly, sitting back down on Dana's couch.
"I'm sick of you lying about it, Casey," he says and looks at you. Your eyes widen in shock as you see the hurt in Danny's eyes. Whatever this is really about, it's important to Danny. "I'm sick of you lying to yourself about it. I'm sick... I'm sick of having a friendship based on mutual deception."
You run a hand through your hair, and wish Danny would make sense. "What do you mean?"
Dan crosses his arms in front of his chest and folds in on himself. "I'm sick of you always being the good one, Casey. You're not. You get jealous and petty and competitive just like everyone else. You lie and you hurt other people. And you're selfish."
"Yeah?" you say, and you can't help the defensive note of challenge in your voice.
He looks up at you again, and seems almost as confused as you feel. "And that's okay, Casey. It doesn't make you a bad person, it just makes you human. It just makes you imperfect. You're still a good guy, all in all, but you're not perfect."
You shake your head. "I've never claimed to be perfect, Danny."
"No, but you always say you're not that guy, and sometimes you are. You warned Dana because you're jealous, not because the guy's bad for her. You did put your career before your family," Dan says softly.
"Don't you dare state that I didn't care about them," you warn, defenses at the ready.
Dan walks over and sits down next to you on the couch. "I know you loved them, Casey. But this job isn't exactly ideal for a family. You're out basically all night. You'd only really get to see them during the morning. You work an exhausting number of hours each day. It's hard to be single and date with this schedule. How could you fit in a family?" Dan sighs and hugs himself tighter. "I'm not saying that you didn't love them. But can't you admit that this wasn't the best job for a guy with a family? Just once, can't you admit that you could have chosen a different job? That if you'd really put them first, you would have chosen something 9 to 5, something that let you spend more time with them?"
You watch Dan, but he doesn't look up at you. "I could have," you say uncertainly, and wish you knew what Dan needed to hear. "But I wouldn't have been happy. I would have been miserable, Dan, and I would have taken it out on Lisa. I would have blamed her for not being able to follow my dreams. I would have ended up hating her. Choosing another job wouldn't have made us work."
Dan nods and says, "That's not what I meant, Casey." He sighs and when he speaks, his chin is tucked down against his chest, his shoulders high against his ears. "I mean that you lie, and you won't admit it. I know that you pass out when you drink spirits and you never remember the night before. I also know that if you're drinking beer, you *always* remember the night before. I know that," he pauses and looks up at you, and Dan actually looks scared. Without thinking, you rest a hand on his shoulder and wait for him to finish. "I know that you are that guy, Casey. I know that you remember that you cheated on Lisa."
Your mouth falls open in surprise and your face flushes in pure embarrassment. You just don't have anything to say to that. You don't bother denying that he's right, that you lied about not remembering a thing from that night. You just never knew how to deal with it.
"It's not a big deal, Casey. You're not the only guy to cheat on your wife. Plenty of guys do it and it doesn't make you a terrible person. It just makes you flawed."
"Fiancee," you correct, and Dan raises his brows at you. "I didn't cheat on my wife. I cheated on my fiancee." It doesn't make much difference, but it feels important.
"I'm supposed to believe that you stopped cheating on her once you married her?" Dan asks, not unkindly.
"I didn't stop, Dan. I never started," you say, trying to get your thoughts straight. "It wasn't something I did. Like, regularly. It was something that happened once, with this amazing guy I met a party. When I was too drunk to remember how much I loved Lisa."
"Really?" Dan sounds surprised, and you wonder if he's spent years thinking that you were cheating on her. Somehow, the thought hurts.
You wipe your palms on your slacks, and explain, "It was just once, and I woke up with a bad hangover, thinking I'd ruined my life. I loved Lisa. And I'm not gay. I mean, I'd mucked around with one guy when I was fifteen and..." You sigh and Dan uncurls his arms from around his chest, turning to watch you.
"How many women had you slept with?"
"If you make one crack about being inexperienced, Dan," you say, trailing off but relieved for the change of topic.
"No, I'm serious. I always thought you... How many people had you slept with?" Dan asks, and you can hear the genuine curiosity in his tone.
"I had three girlfriends before Lisa," you admit and wait to see Dan's reaction.
"You got married to Lisa and had only slept with five other people?" Dan asks incredulously.
"I don't even know why we're talking about this," you gripe in response.
"Because I," Dan starts and stops again, and you can see his shoulders tensing beneath his shirt.
Remembering Dan's past comments, you wonder about something. "You said you were sick of *mutual* deception."
"I'm sick of us both lying, Casey. I'm sick of you always being the good one. And I'm sick of always being the cool one," Dan states slowly.
"You are the cool one," you object, confused again.
"I'm sick of pretending to be the cool one. To be the guy who's got it all under control, who knows what he's doing." You're tempted to say that no-one thinks of him like that, but you don't want to interrupt. It wouldn't be strictly true, either. "To be the guy that can always laugh it off, the guy you don't need to worry about," Dan says as he crosses his arms again. "I'm not that guy. I don't always have it under control. Sometimes, I can barely hold it together."
"You don't have to hold it together by yourself," you remind him, and hope Danny remembers that there is very little that his friends wouldn't do for him.
"I know that, Casey, but I need... I want to tell you when I'm falling apart, but I can't do it if I'm supposed to be the cool one. I can't do it if you're going to sit there and pretend to be the good one. I can't," Dan says desperately and you reach over to hold him.
Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you say, "Then don't. Don't pretend. You admit that sometimes you don't have it together. You admit when things are slipping away from you. And I'll admit that I'm human, that sometimes I screw up and I don't know what the hell I'm doing. Deal?" Dan nods and breathes deeply, and you try not to worry too much about him.
"I just... God, Case," Dan mumbles and you pull him against you, holding him tighter. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes back. When he pulls away, he looks relieved and he gives you a quick smile.
"It's okay, Dan. We don't have to be those guys. We can just be us," you say, and think that you're not that guy, but for Dan, you can be *this* guy.
THE END
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no subject
Date: 2004-01-09 12:26 am (UTC)But I digress.
Loved it, and good use of second person -- it often makes me want to grind my teeth, but it works here.
If you're desperate for betas and don't mind a random near-stranger picking at your work, I'm happy to volunteer. *g*
no subject
Date: 2004-01-09 01:09 am (UTC)Dude, I will totally take you up on that. *beams* I can't see the problem in a random near-stranger picking it apart. After all, I need a bit of a strong, bitchy beta, and sometimes friends can get a little... diplomatic. (Heavens' above knows I can get that way. Not that you mean to, just that you don't really want to hurt a friends' feelings, and it's not good for either of you.)
Loved it, and good use of second person -- it often makes me want to grind my teeth, but it works here.
Thanks for the compliments. The first section just worked better in second person, so the rest of the fic was tried in it. Personally, I was a bit concerned about the end. I can't remember how I originally planned it, but it wasn't like that. (Trust me. Most of my ends are variations on the "happily ever after" theme. I'm a big believer in happy endings. *g*)
Ooh, nice. As much fun as Dan/Casey fluff can be, I've always been a sucker for dark fic. Not that this was particularly "dark" -- no graphic torture or anything *g* -- but I'm always glad when ficwriters are willing to accept that their favourite characters are far from perfect. I mean, hell, that's what makes characters interesting in the first place, right?
*nods* It actually came about from watching a hoard of eps with a friend. We got to talking about whether or not Casey would cheat on Lisa (with Dan). My friend argued that he's a good guy, he's highly conservative and tends to *believe* in social institutions (to a far greater extent than Dan). She thought that he might be tempted, but he wouldn't actually do it.
I argued that he'd do it, but he'd lie to himself about it. He'd just say that there was an excuse, that there was a reason why it didn't really count.
As much as I love Casey, he does have an air of moral superiority about him, even when he's not actually being a nice guy. He's always the Good Guy, Camp Counsellor Casey. Sometimes, it's just nice to pick at the hypocrisy.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-09 08:12 am (UTC)I have more to say, but I'm at work, and eventually my boss is going to figure out I'm not typing like mad over the Hot Springs site evaluations. *g*
I'd be happy to beta if you need one, but I'm holding out for the sexual favors. ;)
no subject
Date: 2004-01-09 03:45 pm (UTC)Phew! *sinks back in relief*
You know I'm a big believer in the happy endings, so I was a little uncertain about this. Plus, new style of writing.
I have more to say, but I'm at work, and eventually my boss is going to figure out I'm not typing like mad over the Hot Springs site evaluations. *g*
*sniggers* Oh yes, I know that feeling. You have to be careful how fast you fannishly type when at work. They notice the fact that you suddenly seem *interested* and *enthusiatic* about your job.
I'd be happy to beta if you need one, but I'm holding out for the sexual favors. ;)
Heh. Honey, you're going to be so disappointed... (re: the sexual favours. *thinks about that sentence* Okay, re: the *lack* of sexual favours.)
But, I will take you up your offer. I think the fic could do with a seoncd beta.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-11 07:47 pm (UTC)Mmm, great stuff :~)
no subject
Date: 2004-01-11 08:21 pm (UTC)Heh. Isn't that Dan? "I'm Mr Happy Guy." (Man, I need a cheery Dan icon saying that.)
I had to read this one about three times, and honey it's great.
*beams* Thank you.
Okay, I'm just going to stand around grinning like an idiot for a few moments, and then I'll get my thoughts back in order.
...
Thanks for commenting, Laylee. I'm glad it worked. (I'm currently betaing it, and the end needs a bit of tweaking, but I was so unertain of this style of prose that it's a big relief to hear that it worked.)
We all think Danny gives good angst, but Casey can as well once you get past his Mr Happy Guy facade. He is that guy and he's just got to admit that like everyone else in the world he has his flaws.
Totally. He doesn't show the angst as much, and he doesn't feel it as deeply, I think. Not that he doesn't care, just that you frequently get the impression that Danny is just this *close* to breaking apart. Casey always seems to generally hold it together.
I don't know. Sometimes I think it's just a case of ignorance is bliss. That Casey doesn't break because most of the time he doesn't seem to acknowledge it.
Mind you, this fic was written after watching the first two DVDs, when Casey was full of his self-righteous, punishing attitude to Dana (re: leaving the show at 1am, due to Gordon), which to me, seemed highly hypocritical.
Since then, of course, Casey has melted my heart through his scenes with Charlie (Oh! DaddyCasey totally gets me) and his heartfelt support of Dan when he started seriously seeing Abby. Plus, there was the whole Dana/Casey subplot in early S2 which I adored. (Yes, SN is a series I watch as pre-slash, and yet it made me cheer for the het couples. Truly wonderful show.)