WIP: Simple Rules
Mar. 26th, 2004 07:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
out_thereHuh. Didn't get the work done. Did burn the Utena eps to disk, did write up a tiny ficlet, but didn't work. I am, however, sitting here in my quiet, deserted office, and am highly amused at the way the sound travels from the MCG. Wow, that footy game must be *loud*.
Hmmm... You know how you start a fic with a line of reasoning in your head, and then you don't see the overall themes until you've finished writing? That's what happened with this. I'm not sure if it's anvillious or not, but it's a little rough, and it's a Casey I wasn't expecting. I don't dislike it, I just wish I could shake the vague feeling of *doom*.
Simple Rules
There are some simple rules:
No overt displays of affection.
No staying over more than twice a week.
No mentioning this to anyone at the station.
...They aren't hard to live by. In fact, Casey doesn't find them hard to follow at all.
Casey's always been good with rules. He's always found a certain comfort in having everything clear-cut and defined, knowing precisely what people expect of him. When Dan jokes that it's a pity that Charlie didn't come with an instruction book, there's a part of Casey that agrees. If he just had a clear set of guidelines, he's sure he'd be a great father. Instead, he fumbles and tries, and suspects that for each thing he gets right, there's something else he got wrong. He guesses it'll balance out in the end.
(No overt displays of affection.)
So in a way, it makes sense to have rules for this thing with Dan. It's simple and it's easy, and he doesn't have to worry about it. In the office, they're still just Dan and Casey. They talk and write, host their show and joke about whatever comes to mind. Like any friendship that's lasted this long, it's comfortable. Sometimes they squabble, and sometime's they're great together, but it's all reassuringly normal. Nothing's changed.
Sometimes when he looks across the office, he wants touch Dan, trace that soft jaw line or run a hand up Dan's thigh, but then Casey remembers the rules. So he smiles and picks up a pen to keep his fingers occupied, and thinks that he can do this. He knows the rules, so he can do this well.
(No staying over more than twice a week.)
At night, things are still the same. Some nights, he's too exhausted to do more than stand at Anthony's and make quick goodbyes to everyone; to shoot a brief grin at Dan and say 'see you tomorrow.' Other nights, Dan leaves first; looking so weary that Casey wonders how he stays upright. There are still nights when they both get so drunk they can't remember how they got home or where the interesting bruise on Dan's arm came from, when they spend the next day wincing at the light and sounds in the office. Things are still the same, except for the way they aren't.
He still invites Dan around to watch the game some nights, but those are the nights that have changed. It's not Danny and Casey watching the game any more. Now Casey has to tape the game and watch it the next morning. Now, it's Dan weighing him down, thrusting and biting, and forcing thoroughly embarrassing sounds out of Casey. It's him clinging to Dan, and devouring him, trying to consume him in any way possible. It's urgent and needy, and it almost makes him feel like a horny teenager again, but it's good.
It's good like a favourite shirt; it feels good, it looks good, and somehow, it fits. It's good in a way that makes Casey wonder if he was doing this right. He almost wonders if he should have watched more porn when he was younger; if he should have spent years writing notes to himself, little lists of do's and don'ts, of 'lean this way' and 'move your tongue like that.'
The oddest thing about it is that it's comfortable. It's hot, and thinking about Danny in bed always makes him blush and shift awkwardly in suddenly tight trousers, but it's not actually difficult. Somehow, he'd always expected it would be. That sex this good would have to be. It's just the way that Casey's life usually works out. Nothing comes easy, and anything worth having is hard and complicated. But Danny seems to be the sole exception to that rule.
(No mentioning this to anyone at the station.)
The entire thing is far easier than it should be. Casey's not quite concerned about that, he just notes it for future reference.
Lying to everyone they work with isn't actually hard. There aren't any complex excuses that need to be made. He just doesn't mention it. Really, it's almost like sleeping with Sally. No-one asked if he was sleeping with her, because no-one suspected that he would be. No one asks if he's sleeping with Dan, because everyone considers it mildly ridiculous. And the only person who knows him well enough to ask, to push for answers, is the only one in on the deception.
Casey thinks he should be more troubled about lying to his son, but it's very easy to rationalise, and impossibly hard to imagine telling Charlie the truth. Occasionally he wonders if he should talk to Dan and ask for clarification about that third rule. Ask if Dan really meant 'just don't tell the people we work with,' or 'don't tell anyone, especially the people we work with.' He should ask Dan, but he hasn't. He's pretty sure it's the second one anyway, and it's oddly relieving to think that he's just following the rules.
And right now, the rules make this easy.
The End
Hmmm... You know how you start a fic with a line of reasoning in your head, and then you don't see the overall themes until you've finished writing? That's what happened with this. I'm not sure if it's anvillious or not, but it's a little rough, and it's a Casey I wasn't expecting. I don't dislike it, I just wish I could shake the vague feeling of *doom*.
Simple Rules
There are some simple rules:
No overt displays of affection.
No staying over more than twice a week.
No mentioning this to anyone at the station.
...They aren't hard to live by. In fact, Casey doesn't find them hard to follow at all.
Casey's always been good with rules. He's always found a certain comfort in having everything clear-cut and defined, knowing precisely what people expect of him. When Dan jokes that it's a pity that Charlie didn't come with an instruction book, there's a part of Casey that agrees. If he just had a clear set of guidelines, he's sure he'd be a great father. Instead, he fumbles and tries, and suspects that for each thing he gets right, there's something else he got wrong. He guesses it'll balance out in the end.
(No overt displays of affection.)
So in a way, it makes sense to have rules for this thing with Dan. It's simple and it's easy, and he doesn't have to worry about it. In the office, they're still just Dan and Casey. They talk and write, host their show and joke about whatever comes to mind. Like any friendship that's lasted this long, it's comfortable. Sometimes they squabble, and sometime's they're great together, but it's all reassuringly normal. Nothing's changed.
Sometimes when he looks across the office, he wants touch Dan, trace that soft jaw line or run a hand up Dan's thigh, but then Casey remembers the rules. So he smiles and picks up a pen to keep his fingers occupied, and thinks that he can do this. He knows the rules, so he can do this well.
(No staying over more than twice a week.)
At night, things are still the same. Some nights, he's too exhausted to do more than stand at Anthony's and make quick goodbyes to everyone; to shoot a brief grin at Dan and say 'see you tomorrow.' Other nights, Dan leaves first; looking so weary that Casey wonders how he stays upright. There are still nights when they both get so drunk they can't remember how they got home or where the interesting bruise on Dan's arm came from, when they spend the next day wincing at the light and sounds in the office. Things are still the same, except for the way they aren't.
He still invites Dan around to watch the game some nights, but those are the nights that have changed. It's not Danny and Casey watching the game any more. Now Casey has to tape the game and watch it the next morning. Now, it's Dan weighing him down, thrusting and biting, and forcing thoroughly embarrassing sounds out of Casey. It's him clinging to Dan, and devouring him, trying to consume him in any way possible. It's urgent and needy, and it almost makes him feel like a horny teenager again, but it's good.
It's good like a favourite shirt; it feels good, it looks good, and somehow, it fits. It's good in a way that makes Casey wonder if he was doing this right. He almost wonders if he should have watched more porn when he was younger; if he should have spent years writing notes to himself, little lists of do's and don'ts, of 'lean this way' and 'move your tongue like that.'
The oddest thing about it is that it's comfortable. It's hot, and thinking about Danny in bed always makes him blush and shift awkwardly in suddenly tight trousers, but it's not actually difficult. Somehow, he'd always expected it would be. That sex this good would have to be. It's just the way that Casey's life usually works out. Nothing comes easy, and anything worth having is hard and complicated. But Danny seems to be the sole exception to that rule.
(No mentioning this to anyone at the station.)
The entire thing is far easier than it should be. Casey's not quite concerned about that, he just notes it for future reference.
Lying to everyone they work with isn't actually hard. There aren't any complex excuses that need to be made. He just doesn't mention it. Really, it's almost like sleeping with Sally. No-one asked if he was sleeping with her, because no-one suspected that he would be. No one asks if he's sleeping with Dan, because everyone considers it mildly ridiculous. And the only person who knows him well enough to ask, to push for answers, is the only one in on the deception.
Casey thinks he should be more troubled about lying to his son, but it's very easy to rationalise, and impossibly hard to imagine telling Charlie the truth. Occasionally he wonders if he should talk to Dan and ask for clarification about that third rule. Ask if Dan really meant 'just don't tell the people we work with,' or 'don't tell anyone, especially the people we work with.' He should ask Dan, but he hasn't. He's pretty sure it's the second one anyway, and it's oddly relieving to think that he's just following the rules.
And right now, the rules make this easy.
The End
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no subject
Date: 2004-03-26 01:39 am (UTC)Do you think it should be part of a larger story, is that what's bothering you? It could be a preamble to a Very Long Fic, but your plot pixies would know that better than I would.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-26 02:47 am (UTC)Well, hot on-stage sex is better, but... yeah, I support hot sex in whatever form, too. *g*
Casey is Casey, all Mr Spock on top (but no, that was another fan story from another lifetime) and all seething turmoil underneath.
Hee! Spock/Casey! Two great tastes combined.
It's a vignette. Which sounds as if it should mean 'small glass of wine' but perhaps only in my head ...
Always sounded like a small jar of vinegar to me, but close enough. *g*
Do you think it should be part of a larger story, is that what's bothering you? It could be a preamble to a Very Long Fic, but your plot pixies would know that better than I would.
There's a lot that isn't being said, but I don't think I want to write it. There's something kinda doomed about the whole idea of Dan setting these nice, firm boundaries, and Casey being perfectly happy to go along with them, to follow them to the letter, without really stretching himself to define what they have together, or to make it clear to Dan that it isn't just sex and friendship. Casey doesn't actually have to admit that to himself, either. He just has Dan, and these simple rules, and it's out of his hands.
There's something about it being too easy, about Casey taking Dan for granted. I get the impression that he's never been attracted to the simple girls. As much as Lisa may make his life hell now (according to Dan, at least *rolls eyes*), and as downright loony as Dana can appear, I think he actually likes the challenge. When the sex came easy, like with Sally, he showed her no respect and didn't actually like her for it. He seems to like something being hard to achieve.
There's also my sneaking suspicion that the rules are too easy for Casey. That he's going along with it, to an extent, and that if he didn't have the safety margin of no-one knowing... well, I'm not thoroughly convinced that he'd choose this "thing with Dan" over his reputation. I kinda think that Casey might be cowardly, and prefer to break it off with Dan, if it came into conflict with the rest of his life.
See, I'm not sure if these doubts really show up in the fic, and that's probably a good thing. And, I don't want to write more, because in my mind, I don't think it's going to be a happy ending.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-26 08:33 am (UTC)I agree with you about the doom, though. The very bestest result would be something going horribly wrong and them actually talking about the underlying stuff in order to fix it. Which is not particularly cheerful.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-26 08:38 am (UTC)Hee! Yes, when the best possible result is catastrophe, it's probably a bad sign. *laughs*