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out_thereLast one for tonight. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tangleofthorns requested Dana/Natalie. "One time we kissed and I ended up in Mexico."
Unbeta'd, and written after midnight, but I like the basic idea of it enough to show the world. *g*
***
I Made Phone Calls With Foreign Coins
It made sense, in the limited way that Dana's romantic life always makes sense. Sam sent her a postcard - well, it was address to the "Sports Night Crew", but she knew he meant her - all the way from Ontario. It was a clear message. It was telling her to come and get him.
So she applied for a week's leave and she bought the return ticket, all while holding his postcard between her fingers. Then she remembered how expensive airport parking would be.
Somehow, she managed to convince Natalie to drive her here, to see her off, but now Natalie won't let go off her wrist. "It's insane, Dana."
"It's not insane. It's a sign."
Natalie stares at her fiercely. "It's a postcard."
"It's a sign." She's holding the postcard in her right hand, the postcard and her plane ticket, but Natalie won't let go of her left wrist. "Sometimes, a postcard is a sign."
"Sometimes, a postcard's just a postcard."
Dana frowns, wishing for once, just for once, that Natalie would believe her. That just once when she said she really liked a guy, or said she saw a sign, that Natalie would nod and agree, and tell her she was right. "It's a sign. It's a sign to go and get him."
"You're going to get him?" Natalie asks, watching her with this almost solemn sadness, this thing that settled over Natalie's shoulders after the almost-not-quite sex with Jeremy - on Isaac's desk, no less - ended in another break-up.
"I'm going to try." Dana wishes she didn't sound so hopeful, so uncertain. She's travelling across the country because Sam drives her insane. She thinks that means she's in love with him, but she'd like Natalie to reassure her.
Instead, Natalie pulls at her arm and kisses her. Right in the middle of the airport, with bright harsh lights; with busy travellers rushing around them, pulling suitcases; with those huge windows that make you reach out and touch the glass, just to be sure there's something between you and the bright blue sky.
Natalie's kiss is hungry, open-mouthed and her tongue is stealing past Dana's lips and teeth. She tastes slightly waxy. It's from their combined lipsticks, from Dana's pale pink and Natalie's earthy bronze.
When Natalie pulls back, their lipsticks are smeared around her mouth, and Dana can't help thinking that it makes for a nice colour. "Don't go to him."
Dana blinks, feeling the dull edges of cardboard in her hand. "I have the tickets."
"I don't -- It doesn't--" Natalie stops and drops Dana's wrist. "Don't go, Dana."
"I have the tickets," she repeats, not sure if it's an excuse or an apology. She wants it to be logic, to be reason, but anything that seems this important is always irrational.
"Stay here."
"I have the tickets. Natalie..." Dana pauses, not even knowing what she wants to say. "We can talk when I get back, but..."
Natalie nods and her eyes dim. "You have the tickets."
"Yeah."
"Have -- have a good trip," Natalie forces out. "And, good luck, Dana. Let me know how it works out."
"I will," Dana replies, and has an awkward moment of stepping forward to hug Natalie and then pulling back. She's not sure how kissing relates to hugging, but it probably makes things awkward.
***
When she gets off the plane, the first thing Dana does is collect her luggage and then hide in the bathroom for an hour as her thoughts whiz around her head. There's only a few people she's ever relied on for advice, and the one person she normally talks to is suddenly the one she doesn't know how to speak to.
She stops by the airport bar and buys a margarita for courage. It's gone within ten minutes, and Dana goes in search of a public phone. She'd use her mobile, but Natalie's got Caller ID, and if Natalie wants to hang up on her, she'd rather hear Natalie do it.
Natalie picks up after the fourth ring and she sounds sleepy. "H'lo?"
"So I'm in Mexico."
"Dana?"
"You kissed me, and now I'm in Mexico."
There's a rustle of fabric, of Natalie rolling over maybe, or sitting up. "Why are you in Mexico?"
"You kissed me."
"Yeah, but you were going to Canada."
"I know." All in all, this conversation is going better than she'd hoped.
"And you're in Mexico?"
Dana nods and then realises Natalie can't see her. "Yeah."
"Because I kissed you?"
"Yeah." Natalie hmm's, a low, deep sound that feels like home to Dana. "You kissed me, and my flight was doing the final boarding call thing, and I went to the wrong gate at the last minute. They let me on."
"They didn't realise your ticket said Canada? I'm kind of worried that the airport staff didn't realise that it said Canada."
Dana takes a deep breath and leans against the wall, holding the receiving close to her. "I was so shocked I couldn't get it out of my hand. It tore, and all the ink was smudged, and they let me on because the plane was leaving."
"But the plane went to Mexico?"
"It went to Mexico," Dana agrees. "I'm standing in an airport in Mexico, and apart from all the Spanish, it feels like an American airport."
"That's because it's an airport, Dana," Natalie says warmly, and Dana smiles. Maybe she hasn't screwed this up as much as she thought. "They have no underlying nationality. They're a country unto themselves."
Dana thinks about all the airports she's ever been to. The way they look different, but deep-down, it's just the same airport dressed up in different architecture. "You could be right."
"I am." Natalie pauses. "But why did you call me?"
Dana stares at the high, pale ceiling. "I needed you to know."
"You wanted me to tell Sam?"
"He doesn't know I'm coming, so no. And..."
"And?"
"And I don't think I'm going to Canada."
The sound of Natalie not breathing seems incredibly loud. "Really?"
"Well, I'm in Mexico."
Natalie laughs. "Yeah, you are."
"I needed you to know that..." Dana pauses, not sure how to say what she wants. Not used to actually knowing what she wants. "One time we kissed and I ended up in Mexico. And now, I'm drinking authentic Mexican margaritas."
"Are they good?"
"You should try one," Dana says suddenly. Natalie chuckles so Dana keeps talking before the words dry up in her throat. "You should come down here and try one."
"Dana?" Natalie sounds shocked, breathless, and it only seems fair.
"Call Isaac and ask for the week off. Tell him I gave you permission." Dana grins, because she's sure Isaac will let Natalie have the time off. Positive. "Then get on an airplane and get down here."
"Dana, I -- I can't," Natalie says it so seriously that it makes Dana nervous.
She tells herself that she's not that woman, the one that gets jealous so easily, but she knows she is. "Is Jeremy there?"
"What?"
"Is... is that why? You and Jeremy are back together?" she asks, twisting the phone cord between restless fingers.
"No. Dana, no."
"It'd be okay, you know. I mean--"
"No, Dana. I'm not seeing Jeremy," Natalie says so firmly that Dana has to believe her. "But I earn a small salary. I don't have airfare money sitting in the bank."
Dana's smile is so wide that she thinks her face will be sore tomorrow. "Just come down to the airport. I'll work out someway to pay for it from here. Just... come down, and call me."
"Okay," Natalie says quietly.
"First call Isaac, and then call a cab and then..." Natalie's words sink in. "Okay?"
"Okay." This time, Natalie sounds certain. "I'm packing and I'm coming down there."
"For a week?"
"For a week."
Dana laughs, feeling breathless and giddy. "You're coming to Mexico?"
"I'm coming to Mexico."
Another giggle escapes and Dana couldn't hold this feeling in if she tried. Which she's not trying to do. "With me?"
"No."
"No?"
"I'm coming to Mexico for you," Natalie explains, and the comforting emphasis of her words makes Dana's knees go weak for a second. "Sometimes, a call is a sign."
She pulls herself together, half-heartedly reprimanding herself for being so silly. It's just Natalie. It shouldn't reduce her to a babbling thirteen-year-old. But it does. "And the wrong flight. That's a sign, too."
"I have to go. I have to pack, because I'm going to Mexico."
"Call me when you get to the airport," Dana calls out, suddenly nervous and excited in a way she hasn't been since she produced her first show.
"I will."
"And if anything goes wrong."
"I will."
"And--"
"Dana," Natalie says slowly, "I'll call you, we'll buy the tickets and then I'll be there."
"It's just... It's a sign," Dana says, as if that explains any of her insanity. As if that explains middle of the morning phone calls and sudden holiday offers.
"It's a sign," Natalie replies, and then she's gone. Gone to do things like pack sensibly and call Isaac for leave.
The payphone eats the rest of Dana's change, but she just smiles and wonders if it's a sign.
The End
tangleofthorns requested Dana/Natalie. "One time we kissed and I ended up in Mexico."Unbeta'd, and written after midnight, but I like the basic idea of it enough to show the world. *g*
***
I Made Phone Calls With Foreign Coins
It made sense, in the limited way that Dana's romantic life always makes sense. Sam sent her a postcard - well, it was address to the "Sports Night Crew", but she knew he meant her - all the way from Ontario. It was a clear message. It was telling her to come and get him.
So she applied for a week's leave and she bought the return ticket, all while holding his postcard between her fingers. Then she remembered how expensive airport parking would be.
Somehow, she managed to convince Natalie to drive her here, to see her off, but now Natalie won't let go off her wrist. "It's insane, Dana."
"It's not insane. It's a sign."
Natalie stares at her fiercely. "It's a postcard."
"It's a sign." She's holding the postcard in her right hand, the postcard and her plane ticket, but Natalie won't let go of her left wrist. "Sometimes, a postcard is a sign."
"Sometimes, a postcard's just a postcard."
Dana frowns, wishing for once, just for once, that Natalie would believe her. That just once when she said she really liked a guy, or said she saw a sign, that Natalie would nod and agree, and tell her she was right. "It's a sign. It's a sign to go and get him."
"You're going to get him?" Natalie asks, watching her with this almost solemn sadness, this thing that settled over Natalie's shoulders after the almost-not-quite sex with Jeremy - on Isaac's desk, no less - ended in another break-up.
"I'm going to try." Dana wishes she didn't sound so hopeful, so uncertain. She's travelling across the country because Sam drives her insane. She thinks that means she's in love with him, but she'd like Natalie to reassure her.
Instead, Natalie pulls at her arm and kisses her. Right in the middle of the airport, with bright harsh lights; with busy travellers rushing around them, pulling suitcases; with those huge windows that make you reach out and touch the glass, just to be sure there's something between you and the bright blue sky.
Natalie's kiss is hungry, open-mouthed and her tongue is stealing past Dana's lips and teeth. She tastes slightly waxy. It's from their combined lipsticks, from Dana's pale pink and Natalie's earthy bronze.
When Natalie pulls back, their lipsticks are smeared around her mouth, and Dana can't help thinking that it makes for a nice colour. "Don't go to him."
Dana blinks, feeling the dull edges of cardboard in her hand. "I have the tickets."
"I don't -- It doesn't--" Natalie stops and drops Dana's wrist. "Don't go, Dana."
"I have the tickets," she repeats, not sure if it's an excuse or an apology. She wants it to be logic, to be reason, but anything that seems this important is always irrational.
"Stay here."
"I have the tickets. Natalie..." Dana pauses, not even knowing what she wants to say. "We can talk when I get back, but..."
Natalie nods and her eyes dim. "You have the tickets."
"Yeah."
"Have -- have a good trip," Natalie forces out. "And, good luck, Dana. Let me know how it works out."
"I will," Dana replies, and has an awkward moment of stepping forward to hug Natalie and then pulling back. She's not sure how kissing relates to hugging, but it probably makes things awkward.
***
When she gets off the plane, the first thing Dana does is collect her luggage and then hide in the bathroom for an hour as her thoughts whiz around her head. There's only a few people she's ever relied on for advice, and the one person she normally talks to is suddenly the one she doesn't know how to speak to.
She stops by the airport bar and buys a margarita for courage. It's gone within ten minutes, and Dana goes in search of a public phone. She'd use her mobile, but Natalie's got Caller ID, and if Natalie wants to hang up on her, she'd rather hear Natalie do it.
Natalie picks up after the fourth ring and she sounds sleepy. "H'lo?"
"So I'm in Mexico."
"Dana?"
"You kissed me, and now I'm in Mexico."
There's a rustle of fabric, of Natalie rolling over maybe, or sitting up. "Why are you in Mexico?"
"You kissed me."
"Yeah, but you were going to Canada."
"I know." All in all, this conversation is going better than she'd hoped.
"And you're in Mexico?"
Dana nods and then realises Natalie can't see her. "Yeah."
"Because I kissed you?"
"Yeah." Natalie hmm's, a low, deep sound that feels like home to Dana. "You kissed me, and my flight was doing the final boarding call thing, and I went to the wrong gate at the last minute. They let me on."
"They didn't realise your ticket said Canada? I'm kind of worried that the airport staff didn't realise that it said Canada."
Dana takes a deep breath and leans against the wall, holding the receiving close to her. "I was so shocked I couldn't get it out of my hand. It tore, and all the ink was smudged, and they let me on because the plane was leaving."
"But the plane went to Mexico?"
"It went to Mexico," Dana agrees. "I'm standing in an airport in Mexico, and apart from all the Spanish, it feels like an American airport."
"That's because it's an airport, Dana," Natalie says warmly, and Dana smiles. Maybe she hasn't screwed this up as much as she thought. "They have no underlying nationality. They're a country unto themselves."
Dana thinks about all the airports she's ever been to. The way they look different, but deep-down, it's just the same airport dressed up in different architecture. "You could be right."
"I am." Natalie pauses. "But why did you call me?"
Dana stares at the high, pale ceiling. "I needed you to know."
"You wanted me to tell Sam?"
"He doesn't know I'm coming, so no. And..."
"And?"
"And I don't think I'm going to Canada."
The sound of Natalie not breathing seems incredibly loud. "Really?"
"Well, I'm in Mexico."
Natalie laughs. "Yeah, you are."
"I needed you to know that..." Dana pauses, not sure how to say what she wants. Not used to actually knowing what she wants. "One time we kissed and I ended up in Mexico. And now, I'm drinking authentic Mexican margaritas."
"Are they good?"
"You should try one," Dana says suddenly. Natalie chuckles so Dana keeps talking before the words dry up in her throat. "You should come down here and try one."
"Dana?" Natalie sounds shocked, breathless, and it only seems fair.
"Call Isaac and ask for the week off. Tell him I gave you permission." Dana grins, because she's sure Isaac will let Natalie have the time off. Positive. "Then get on an airplane and get down here."
"Dana, I -- I can't," Natalie says it so seriously that it makes Dana nervous.
She tells herself that she's not that woman, the one that gets jealous so easily, but she knows she is. "Is Jeremy there?"
"What?"
"Is... is that why? You and Jeremy are back together?" she asks, twisting the phone cord between restless fingers.
"No. Dana, no."
"It'd be okay, you know. I mean--"
"No, Dana. I'm not seeing Jeremy," Natalie says so firmly that Dana has to believe her. "But I earn a small salary. I don't have airfare money sitting in the bank."
Dana's smile is so wide that she thinks her face will be sore tomorrow. "Just come down to the airport. I'll work out someway to pay for it from here. Just... come down, and call me."
"Okay," Natalie says quietly.
"First call Isaac, and then call a cab and then..." Natalie's words sink in. "Okay?"
"Okay." This time, Natalie sounds certain. "I'm packing and I'm coming down there."
"For a week?"
"For a week."
Dana laughs, feeling breathless and giddy. "You're coming to Mexico?"
"I'm coming to Mexico."
Another giggle escapes and Dana couldn't hold this feeling in if she tried. Which she's not trying to do. "With me?"
"No."
"No?"
"I'm coming to Mexico for you," Natalie explains, and the comforting emphasis of her words makes Dana's knees go weak for a second. "Sometimes, a call is a sign."
She pulls herself together, half-heartedly reprimanding herself for being so silly. It's just Natalie. It shouldn't reduce her to a babbling thirteen-year-old. But it does. "And the wrong flight. That's a sign, too."
"I have to go. I have to pack, because I'm going to Mexico."
"Call me when you get to the airport," Dana calls out, suddenly nervous and excited in a way she hasn't been since she produced her first show.
"I will."
"And if anything goes wrong."
"I will."
"And--"
"Dana," Natalie says slowly, "I'll call you, we'll buy the tickets and then I'll be there."
"It's just... It's a sign," Dana says, as if that explains any of her insanity. As if that explains middle of the morning phone calls and sudden holiday offers.
"It's a sign," Natalie replies, and then she's gone. Gone to do things like pack sensibly and call Isaac for leave.
The payphone eats the rest of Dana's change, but she just smiles and wonders if it's a sign.
The End
