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celli, who asked about "Sweet Music in the Back of My Mind", commentary:
Sweet Music in the Back of My Mind: The Commentary Track
Okay, first thing that needs to be said about this story is that although it was written for Celli's birthday, it remains a lumbering Frankenstein of a story. I raided past drabbles and snippets, and canabalised them for this story.
Secondly, it was written to Alex Lloyd's "Watching Angel's Mend" CD. Most of the parts reflect the rhythm/feel of the song, but some actually reference the lyrics.
Thirdly, I'm damn lazy, so I'm going to paste the entire story in here and comment as I think of it. (ie. this will be a *long* post)
Track One
"…So I told him to think of it as a mix tape."
When writing SN, the easiest way to ease into a story is to steal Sorkin's own technique of introducing a subject: the non sequitor. Seriously, it's a lazy, lazy writing technique, but it makes many things a lot easier. (And then, I made it a stylistic choice, to open every section with a line of dialogue.)
Also, if you were curious, this was written to "Everybody's Laughing". Some of the lyrics are "I want to live, and, oh, I want to give, and I'll open up when everybody's laughing." It's, like, foreshadowing of the two of them opening up to each other, when they're emotionally comfortable and confident. Other lines are "I'd go with you on a road to nowhere" and "Sweet music in the back of my mind, I'm coming home this time to you; you make me feel good."
Pretty much sets the tone for this entire story, right? You know it's going to be a happy, sappy, romantic tale.
Casey blinked and looked over at Dan. Admittedly, he'd been following that conversation rather half-heartedly as he read over his script one last time, but he was pretty sure they weren't talking about music. "What?"
Dan grinned. "You totally tuned out then, didn't you?"
"I was following the pointers about editing a good highlights tape," Casey replied, fiddling with his mike. "I may have let my attention wander when you got to 'Philistines who don't appreciate the battle.'"
Banter. Playing with words for the fun of it. The boys do that a lot. (Also, I like referencing canon. Hence, the nod towards Jeremy's troubles with editing highlights and the Philistines comment.)
"You drifted away."
"Autopilot responses," Casey admitted. "So, mix tapes?"
The autopilot line always sat weirdly with me, and it still does. Not that Casey wouldn't say that, because he says some strange things, but I wish I could have found a better way of phrasing it, of showing that he knows Dan well enough to tune out a little -- and Dan knows him well enough to let it slide.
Dan nodded. "If you think of games as albums, and individual plays as songs, the highlights are a mix tape."
And here we have the recurring theme of the piece: music. I'd say I worked it in with subtlety, but I totally didn't.
"That makes a surprising amount of warped sense."
"I was trying to explain it to Jeremy," Dan said, shifting in his dark blue jacket and pale blue shirt. "It's not a summary of the battle. It's a mix tape."
Casey raised an eyebrow. "So?"
"You're trying to choose specific songs to get the other person to understand the feel, the meaning of the battle. They don't need to see each play. They need to appreciate the overall direction."
"Huh." Casey looked over and noted they still had ninety seconds to go until air-time. "Did Jeremy understand your extended metaphor?"
I had trouble wording the extended metaphor. We all know what I mean, but there must have been a more precise/effective way to say it.
"I understood it," Jeremy said through their earpieces. He sounded a little harried; Casey assumed the control room was dealing with something more important than mix tape comparisons. "I'm not sure I agree, but I understood it."
"You should agree," Dan said to the camera.
"Why?"
"Because Danny says so," Casey offered with a grin.
That line, Casey's confident little "danny is generally right, because he's *Danny*" logic, pleases me no end.
Dan smirked. "Besides, I'm right."
"Hmmm…" Jeremy said, and then their earpieces went silent.
Casey turned back to Dan. "I take it you were a fan of the mix tape?"
"I made a lot of them in college. Didn't you?"
Casey shrugged. "Not really."
"No?"
"I used to make driving tapes, though."
"You made driving mix tapes?" Dan asked in a tone bordering on outright mockery.
"You know what it's like. Driving interstate, you end up spending hours with static because you can't find a good station. Hence, driving tapes."
It was *practical*. Of course Casey would make a mixtape for a practical reason, not a romantic one. And, of course, Danny would put a good deal of effort in college to finding easy/painfree ways to get girls -- and try to convince himself he was likeable, even though he knew he was tricking them. But that's the implied fannish knowledge of how Danny's mind works, and it's not spelt out here because this story is essentially angst-free.
"Ah," Dan said slowly. "I used to make them for people."
"People?"
"Girlfriends, mainly. You put together a romantic collection of songs, give it to them, and they think you're such a poet at heart."
Casey laughed. "Probably works better than writing poetry."
"It's all 'blah, blah, blah, you're so special,'" Dan said with a wave of his hand, "'blah, blah, blah, true love, blah, blah, blah, love at first sight.' Throw in a couple of personal touches, a song that references their smile, their eyes, their laugh, and they're putty in your hands."
I love the 'blah, blah, blah's. Can't you just see Danny's hands waving around as he says that? Okay, maybe it's just me.
Natalie squawked over their earpieces, "Danny!"
Dan amended quickly, "Well, they were back in college."
"Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am," Casey said knowingly.
Dan laughed, turning to the cameras. "More like 'wham, bam, thank you, Dan,'" he said and then smoothly switched into the show's intro.
***
Here we come to the other thing about this fic. Originally, I wanted to write two scenes for every track, but then some of them didn't have a second scene, it didn't need any more, so I left them at one. It still works, though.
The CD was sitting on Casey's desk. Thinking it was Dan's, Casey acted as he normally did: he picked it up just to be nosey. On the back cover, there was a bright yellow Post-It note with Dan's messy handwriting.
Knew you'd pick it up. The CD's for you. Dan.
Because Danny knows him that well. That's another recurring point here: how well the boys know each other. How comfortable they are with each other. How they're willing to be silly and flippant and angry and vulnerable, and they remain friends, remain trusted. It's a pretty cool thing, even when you don't take the obvious prettiness of the pair of them naked.
Track Two
Written to "Green" which always feels like a song about innocence, about being happy with the world and not realising how cynical the world can make you. It also has the lines, "If you want to be free, please don't fall for me. I could be anyone but your friend. If you open the door, I'll give a whole lot more."
See? It's *building* from *friendship*. Yes, I did take the music to a scary literal level while writing this.
Dana opened their office door and frowned at him. As far as Casey knew, he hadn't screwed anything up lately. "What?"
"I'm worried about you."
Casey blinked. "About me?"
"The network expects certain behavior from a sports anchor," Dana said seriously, pushing back a strand of shiny, blonde hair.
She has shiny blonde hair and she's also a total babe. I wish I had better abilities at physical description so I could make everyone else love Dana as much as I do.
Casey swiveled his chair around to face her fully. "And I haven't been meeting these expectations?"
"You're in sports broadcasting, Casey. We expect you to watch games, to read scores, to be aware of the latest drafting rumors."
"I keep telling Danny that it adds a certain informed quality to our scripts."
*snerk* I know that line was cleaned up in beta, but I honestly can't remember what it used to be.
"We don't expect you to barricade yourself in your room and blare pop music."
Casey as an immature, overgrown boy. It's very, very canonical.
"Ah," Casey said and turned down the speakers on his computer. "It's a new CD."
Dana raised an eyebrow and leaned her shoulder against the doorway. "Is there any reason why you're playing it at work?"
"Danny gave it to me."
Dana laughed. "I thought boys stopped giving out mix tapes in college."
Which Dana would say, without ever considering that Dan would give Casey a mixtape to get into his pants. She'd just do it to mess with Casey's mind.
Casey blinked, turning over the cover in his hand, but when he looked up to question Dana's comment, she was already gone.
***
"Danny?"
"Yeah?"
Casey held up the cover of the CD. "Is this a mix tape?"
"Who was the top pick for both the NFL and the AFL draft in 1961?"
"Mike Ditka," Casey replied easily. "Why?"
And once again, I use the book on American sports that Celli sent me. So damn useful in this fandom.
"Just wanted to make sure you hadn't lost all your marbles," Dan said as he finished writing a sentence. He placed his pen down on the desk and looked over at Casey. "That is a CD. It looks, sounds and plays like a CD. It's nothing like a mix tape. I'm wondering why you'd confuse the two."
Casey shrugged. "Dana referred to it as a mix tape." As soon as he said it, he realized how ridiculous it was. The woman was afraid of fish, for heaven's sake.
"And?" Dan asked, sniggering.
I wonder when I look over old SN stories at how many times characters laugh, snigger or snort. I have a feeling their far more amused than they should be without laughing gas. On the other hand, it's hard to learn that you need to step back and make the dialogue work for itself. If the line's funny, the audience will snigger. If it isn't, having the character laugh won't help it.
And, huh, it just occured to me that I was writing the author's version of the laugh track. I know how annoying that is on SN; I should know better.
But, yeah, that was a random bit of authorial insight, and doesn't apply too much to this story.
Casey rolled his eyes. "I wanted to make sure it wasn't a case of 'wham, bam, thank you, Dan,'" he replied dryly.
Not yet, Casey.
Dan grinned. "Worried about your reputation?"
Casey turned back to his pad of paper. "I wouldn't want everyone thinking I'm easy."
"Casey?"
"Yeah?"
"We all know about Sally."
"So?" Casey felt his brows furrow in confusion.
"You are easy."
He is. And I'm almost wondering if this scene should have stopped here, but there's a certain laziness to opening and ending with dialogue. It's a cheat: it works well, but it's a cheating way of avoiding the reaction shots. Sometimes, the reaction shots are important.
Casey rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to throw something at Dan.
Track Three
"You can't dance," Dan announced in the middle of the cheerleaders' half-time routine.
Sitting up on Dan's couch, Casey quickly took stock of the five empty beer bottles surrounding them. They weren't drunk enough to justify completely random comments. "What?"
Dude, five bottles of *American* beer between two of them. I don't think even Dan's enough of a lightweigh to get drunk on that.
Also, I blametboy so much for this drinking thing. I mean, really, before I wrote for the Boozefest Fuh-Q Fest, I'm pretty sure most of my slashy stories didn't involve alcohol and getting drunk. Now? It's got to be about 60% alcoholic (like a really good vodka *snerk*).
"You can't dance."
Casey stared at Dan. "You said that already. Repeating it doesn't explain it."
Dan grinned and bounced to his feet. He looked surprisingly sober for someone making so little sense. Then again, Dan didn't need to be drunk to talk nonsense.
"Dance with me."
"What?"
Dan had muted the TV and was switching on the stereo. "You are a well-rounded guy, apart from the fact that you can't dance."
Also, dancing is very romantic. Two guys dancing together is something that I find appealing. *cough*DancingWIP*cough*
Casey blinked as music started to play. "Hey. I know this song." When it came to Danny's stereo it was pretty unusual for Casey to even recognize the singer.
"I know." Dan grinned. "I bought you the CD."
Casey stopped himself from humming along. "You got yourself a copy, too?"
"I got myself a copy first," Dan corrected. "Then I realized you'd like it."
"Because it isn't cool?" Casey asked suspiciously.
I love Casey's doubts about Dan's reasoning -- waiting for the mocking -- and the way that Dan won't tease him when he has another agenda.
"It's very cool, Casey. Stand up." Dan made 'get up' gestures with both hands. Casey sighed and got to his feet. "It's cool, but it's also… melodic."
"Melodic?"
"It's all about the melody. Plus, it's very easy to listen to. Of course you'd love it," Dan said, smiling widely.
And that, right there, is what I really like. That Dan knows Casey well enough to know what he'd like; that he's a good enough friend to point out his flaws and help Casey try to fix them.
"And I do," Casey said, returning Dan's grin. "But that doesn't mean I can't dance."
"Your taste in music has nothing to with your dancing difficulties."
Casey raised an eyebrow. "And what are my 'dancing difficulties'?"
"You always look uncomfortable on the dance floor."
"I don't know why we're having this conversation."
"Whenever you dance up close with someone, you look uncomfortable." Dan shrugged and started to sway loosely to the music, rolling his shoulders from side to side. "It's not a pop quiz. It's dancing. It's supposed to be fun."
Casey raised his eyebrows.
"Dance," Dan said. "Otherwise, we'll be watching the rest of the game with background music."
Casey glanced at the bright green grass on the TV screen. "You're holding the commentary ransom?"
That line still makes me snigger. Probably because the commentary is what they do well, so it's not like they couldn't call it and make up their own version. It's the principle of the thing (and the ability to mock other sportscasters) that makes Casey go through with it.
"Dance."
"Why--"
"Close your eyes if it makes you feel better."
He considered pointing out that Dan was being insane, but decided it would be easier to indulge him and then get back to the game. Closing his eyes, Casey listened to the gentle beat and started to dance, just a little. He felt like an idiot.
That last line? I *heart*. Mainly because it makes me think of Celli, of her simple way of wording things and creating a big impact. I think it works well here.
"See? No big deal."
Instead of replying to Dan's smug comment, Casey kept his eyes shut. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, moving lazily to the rhythm.
That's how the song makes me want to move -- slow, lazy sways, rolling my hips to the bass -- but describing it was a lot harder than I thought. Mainly because Casey is an Uptight White Guy who doesn't dance well. As opposed to Dan, who dances with enthusiasm, but not *well*. (The *Sprinkler*, people. He did the Sprinkler.) It's the blind leading the blind.
"What I don't get," Dan said from somewhere to Casey's left, "is why you freeze up when you dance close to someone."
Casey didn't bother arguing the point. This would probably be over more quickly if he followed Dan's demented line of reasoning without trying to make sense of it.
Another awkward line that could have been better -- somehow -- but it says what I wanted it to say. I just wish I could have made it more elegant.
"You're not a bad dancer. You just get tense." Dan's voice was behind Casey. Then Dan was behind him, resting a hand on Casey's hips as he mimicked Casey's slow steps. "There's no reason for it."
Dan was warm and solid behind him, easily matching Casey sway for sway.
Mmmmm. *wallows in the mental image*
"Honestly?" Casey asked as he turned his head and opened his eyes to Dan's relaxed smile. "I have no idea either."
Dan chuckled, and Casey felt the vibrations against his back. Holding his gaze, Dan slipped his other hand around Casey's waist. Casey smiled.
Then the television caught Dan's attention. "Hey, half-time's over, Travolta." Dan made a quick dash for the stereo while Casey fumbled for the mute button on the TV remote.
I liked the ease of this, the way that their interactions are already flirtatous, already hint at a strong level of physical intimacy and comfort, and the way that neither of the guys stops to question the appropriateness of their actions. They just accept that that's part of the Dan'n'Casey friendship, which is sweet.
Track Four
Dan was bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I want a cigarette."
"You don't smoke," Casey pointed out reasonably, hiding his amusement.
Dan shrugged at him and held an imaginary cigarette to his lips. "I used to."
Total utter fanon, there. We have no canonical proof that anyone -- other than Dana -- smokes cigarettes (and she did give them up). Isaac smokes cigars, and gave both the boys one, but that doesn't mean they normally smoke. Of course, we don't have proof that they don't, either.
"But you don't anymore."
"Which is why I don't have any. But I want one."
Casey laid a hand on Dan's shoulder, partly to reassure him and partly to stop him from jumping up and down. "Danny?"
Danny as the over-excited, maniacal kid. Again, it feels very canonical to me.
"Yeah?"
"Relax."
"That's easy for you to say," Dan shot back. "You weren't nominated."
Casey looked up at the high white ceiling and tried not to laugh. "Yeah, because I've never been up for a writing award. I wouldn't have a clue."
We know that both Casey and Dan have been nominated for awards, but only Casey's won them. This story was a bit of wish-fulfillment, a way to make the boys happy. Part of that was giving Dan the professional acclaim/reassurance that he desires so strongly in S2. To let him prove to himself that he is good at this and that others recognise his talent -- and also, to show Casey in the supportive, encouraging stable point that he is for Dan.
(After all, Dan "came with [Casey]". Dan would have been out of college a maximum of a year -- if that -- and got Lonestar because he and Casey came as a pair. Casey's never been shown to actually hamper Dan's career, to hold him back in any jealous, petty way. In fact, the argument in Draft Day is because Casey's trying to get Dan to do his job better, to pay attention to how he's damaging his career at the network... he just doesn't approach it in the best way possible.)
"That wasn't what I meant." Dan ran a hand through his hair and then stopped, smoothing it back down. He pulled at his collar, straightening his polka-dot bow-tie. "There's a chance I could win this. It's a good reason to be edgy."
Polka-dot bow-tie! The true proof that Dan is *only* cool in comparison to Casey.
Casey glanced around the empty corridor. It had been his idea to get Dan out of the chattering awards room to calm him down, to get him away from tables of people waiting to hear the winning names. Now, Casey was wondering if tying Dan to his chair would have worked better. "You're going to win."
Drawing in a shaky breath, Dan watched him doubtfully. "See, I think there's a chance, but saying stuff like that is going to jinx it. And right now I'm relying on a lot of luck."
"No, you're not."
"Trust me, Casey. I am."
"You weren't nominated because you're lucky. It's because you're talented. And you deserve this." Casey grinned at Dan and wished Dan could share his absolute confidence. He wrapped his arm around Dan's shoulders. "You'll win."
Casey has utter faith and confidence in Dan's abilities. It's another of these hints that "they know each other really, really well" and "they're a good influence on each other/stronger than they are alone".
Dan sighed loudly, but he looked a little calmer. Just a little. "Let's go back in."
***
Dan was sprawled across one side of the booth at Anthony's. His bow-tie was hanging loose around his neck, and the top button of his white shirt was undone. He was also smiling widely. "Go on."
*wallows in the mental image* Dan dressed up, and slouching back, clothes all rumpled? Mmmmmmm.
Also, it occurs to me that I haven't mentioned the song attached to this section. It's "My Friend" and the idea of the awards came from the opening line "One day they'll pay to know your name".
"What?"
"Go ahead and say it."
Casey tried to keep his expression innocent. He thought about Charlie's list of birthday presents and the last time he'd called his mom. "What are you talking about?"
Casey is a family guy. Not the perfect father, but a genuinely *good* father who tries hard. A son who's proud of his mother (and her clean kitchen floor), and had/still-has issues with his dad. It's only a small mention, but I like the inference that it's something important to him, that when he tries to look innocent, trustworthy and believable, he thinks of his family.
"Just say it, okay?" Dan grinned at him and raised his glass.
Clinking their glasses together in a mock-toast, Casey laughed. "I told you so."
A line that will appear later in the story as well, even though I didn't notice until my beta pointed it out.
"You really did. How did you know?"
"That you were going to win?"
"Yeah."
Casey shifted on the wooden seat. "I work with you every day."
"So?"
"So I know that when you're on," Casey said with a relaxed shrug, "you do great work. I knew you deserved it."
*happy sigh*
Dan's eyes softened. "Thanks."
"For putting up with your rampant ego and your illogical self-doubt?"
That line is still awkward when written. I can hear the way Casey would say it, the slightly mocking tone, the quirked eyebrow, but I couldn't get it to work on paper.
"For having faith in me," Dan said simply.
Casey patted Dan on the back. "It's only faith when there's no objective proof."
Track Five
Would it surprise anyone to know the title for this track is "Lost in the Rain"? As I said, scarily literal. (But I have to love the song for the line: "No place is where it used to be. Looking for comfort in all the wrong places.") It also mentions the idea of only being lonely when you don't understand why you feel like that, and how you can make it different by "asking for more".
Casey held his hand out and watched the light spray hit his palm. "It's raining."
Dan kept striding down the pavement. "It's around here somewhere."
"You said that two long blocks ago."
"Well, it wasn't around there, so it must be around here," Dan replied, splashing through a puddle.
I'm suddenly noticing all the childlike references/descriptions of Dan and Casey. Part of this is because there are times, when they have the combined emotional maturity of six year olds. Also, they have a certain childlike wonder at the world, at the "miracles" they see in sports, at a person's potential to do something great. Despite all their flaws, I believe they are optimistic -- there's always the hope of something amazing.
This is probably why they are my happy-ending-couple, my OTP of Hope.
Casey brought an arm up above his head, trying to shield himself from the rain. It didn't work very well. "You have no idea where this mythical bar is, do you?"
"It's not mythical," Dan replied, turning the corner. "I found it two nights ago."
"But you've lost it now?"
"It's around here somewhere." Dan stopped, looking around. He peered down each street, then shrugged and started walking again. It didn't fill Casey with confidence.
"Danny, it's raining."
"Yes."
Casey easily kept pace beside Dan. "It's one in the morning, and we're walking in the rain."
"Yes."
"Because there's a wonderful bar that you stumbled across once, and now you can't find it."
Dan grinned at him. "We're in the process of finding it."
"I don't even know where we are," Casey whined. The raindrops started coming faster and harder, and a couple slithered down the back of his neck.
Dan drew his jacket closer around his chest, stomping through puddles with ruthless determination. "Me neither."
I like the descriptions of the rain, but I'm wishing I'd described more of how the boys looked, hair damp and clinging, faces wet. (After all, they both look very nice when wet.)
Casey stopped walking. "So we're lost?"
"We're not lost," Dan said, stopping a foot in front of him. "Manhattan's a grid. You can't get lost. I just don't know precisely where we are."
"We're lost." Casey hunched his shoulders against the rain. "In the rain. You have got us lost, in the middle of the night, in the middle of a storm."
That's what having a best friend is for: blaming and complaining when things go wrong. *g*
"It's for a worthy cause." Dan scanned the buildings around them.
"For a bar that only exists in your imagination?"
"No," Dan replied distractedly, looking down the street. He started walking quickly and called out over his shoulder, "Come on."
Casey considered calling a cab. Then he shrugged and followed Dan. "What?"
Dan had stopped in front of a door with dark, smoked glass. It had gold lettering, but the font was too ornate to read. Beaming, Dan waved a hand at the doorway. "It's my mythical bar."
***
"So?"
Half an hour later, Casey was sitting in a warm, dimly lit bar. He was also drinking the best strawberry daiquiri he'd ever had. "It's good."
Strawberry daiquiri: because they're both *women*.
Dan grinned and leaned his damp shirtsleeves on the table. "Was it worth it?"
"The rain? The hour of walking? Following you for block after block as we got more and more lost?" Casey took another sip of the sweet concoction. It wasn't something he'd admit to Dana upon pain of death, but if he had to pick a favorite cocktail, a good strawberry daiquiri would win hands down.
Dan nodded. "Yeah."
"Definitely worth it." Casey took another sip. "You were right. Best strawberry daiquiri in Manhattan."
Not only do they drink girly drinks -- only when they won't get mocked by actual girls, obviously -- they drink them together. It's the lack of ego about it, the way that they're never afraid to be complete and utter dorks around each other, that I find adorable.
"Told you so."
Track Six
"I can't sleep."
"You can't sleep?"
"Yeah," Dan said, "I can't sleep."
Casey sighed and hit the mute button on his remote. "So you decided to call me at three a.m. to tell me you can't sleep?"
This song is called "Sleep". I kid you not, the first line is "tonight the TV is my friend" and the chorus goes "Sleep, sleep, it doesn't hurt to be here any more. Sleep, sleep, a box of you is lying on the floor."
(Totally off-topic, but it's also a song that always makes me think of Clex, due to the "All superheroes fast asleep. It gets so busy, seven days a week." and "For all misguided modesties, illusions of the past. And everything that's meant to be isn't always going to last. I love you, I love to turn you on.")
"Well, I was thinking about you. About what type of person you are."
"Yeah?"
"Talking to you should put me to sleep pretty quickly."
He mocks because he loves. It's canon, really.
Casey rolled his eyes and was tempted to turn the sound on his TV back on. "Go to sleep, Danny."
"I can't. That's why I called."
"Then do something."
"Like what?"
"I don't know." Casey shrugged, even though Dan couldn't see it. "Try to think of something that doesn't involve insulting me."
"It's three in the morning. I'm not that imaginative."
"Oh, I think you are."
"I'm really not."
There was a crunching from Dan's end, and Casey suddenly understood Dan's insomnia. "Are you still eating the candy Natalie gave you?"
Casey heard Dan swallow. "Maybe."
Casey laughed at Dan's guilty tone and had to push further. "Did you really think that eating sugar was going to help you sleep soundly?"
"I'm not five. It shouldn't stop me sleeping."
"And yet," Casey replied, "you can't sleep."
"I really can't."
This is how I love to see them interracting, how they interact on the show itself. I love the neurotic way that one will bug the other -- over and over -- and prove why they're best friends. Anyone else, anyone sane, wouldn't put up with this ridiculous level of annoying.
Shaking his head, Casey chuckled. "Why don't you put the sugar-high to good use? If you can't sleep, clean out the top of your closet."
"Casey," Dan whined.
"Aren't you the one that keeps complaining that you never get time to unpack those boxes? That they've been there since you moved?"
Responsibly, practical Casey who's a mature adult -- except for all the times he's not. But I love him when he takes the serious, conservative route. It's adorable.
"Yeeeeeeeeah," Dan said, stretching the syllable until it contained a world of complaints. It was the same reaction Charlie had to eating cabbage. "But..."
As a rule, I don't like whimsical spelling, messing around with letters to try to describe the sounds. But there was no other way to get the precise whine of Dan's voice across.
"But what?"
"That's boring."
"Then go to sleep."
"I can't sleep."
"Okay," Casey said firmly, "I'm hanging up now."
I'm willing to bet they end a lot of conversations that way. *laughs*
***
Dan walked into their office, yawning and holding a cardboard box.
Casey raised an eyebrow at him. "What's that?"
"This," Dan said, dropping the cardboard box on the desk and missing Casey's fingers by mere inches, "is yours."
Literal interpretation of lyrics, *again*.
"Mine?"
"This is yours from Dallas."
"How can this be my stuff?" Casey frowned and stood up, opening up the box. There were scraps of paper and a stapler. He didn't see how it was his.
"It is."
"I've unpacked all my stuff."
"You remember when we were cleaning out our desks and Lisa had the car, so I gave you and your boxes a ride home?"
Exposition, hi! I've missed you. No, not really, but at least you were nice and subtle this time.
"Yeah."
"You must have left this box in my car."
"And you moved it up with your stuff," Casey said as he rummaged through the box. There were notes in his handwriting, packs of bright yellow Post-It's, and -- aha! -- the newspaper cutouts he'd carefully saved in Dallas and then lost in the move to New York. "I wondered what happened to these."
Newspaper cut-outs. Casey would totally be the type to cut out newspaper mentions of himself and Dan. In fact, I'll bet he spent years cutting out mentions of himself and mailing them back to his mom for her scrapbook.
"Now the mystery is solved."
Casey pulled the clippings out, and then remembered what else he'd lost in the move. "Did you find that photo of us, from your twenty-fourth birthday?"
"The one where you nearly pushed me into my own cake?" Dan asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow. Then he pulled something out of his pocket. "This one?"
Casey grabbed it out of Dan's hand. "That's the one." In the photo, Dan was leaning precariously over a large chocolate cake, his dark hair long enough to fall across his brows. Casey stood beside him, hands wrapped around Dan's shoulders in an enthusiastic hug, grinning widely. It was hard to tell if Dan was laughing or about to yell at him. "We should get that framed."
I love the photo idea. The physical, visual proof that they've been *good* friends for a long, long time.
Dan snorted. "It can serve as a warning. A constant reminder of why it's dangerous to have affectionate friends."
That line is still so very, very clunky. And yet, I needed something after "...get that framed" to set the ending. It just annoys me that I rewrote that line about four times, and that was the best I could do.
Commentary continued here.
celli, who asked about "Sweet Music in the Back of My Mind", commentary:Sweet Music in the Back of My Mind: The Commentary Track
Okay, first thing that needs to be said about this story is that although it was written for Celli's birthday, it remains a lumbering Frankenstein of a story. I raided past drabbles and snippets, and canabalised them for this story.
Secondly, it was written to Alex Lloyd's "Watching Angel's Mend" CD. Most of the parts reflect the rhythm/feel of the song, but some actually reference the lyrics.
Thirdly, I'm damn lazy, so I'm going to paste the entire story in here and comment as I think of it. (ie. this will be a *long* post)
Track One
"…So I told him to think of it as a mix tape."
When writing SN, the easiest way to ease into a story is to steal Sorkin's own technique of introducing a subject: the non sequitor. Seriously, it's a lazy, lazy writing technique, but it makes many things a lot easier. (And then, I made it a stylistic choice, to open every section with a line of dialogue.)
Also, if you were curious, this was written to "Everybody's Laughing". Some of the lyrics are "I want to live, and, oh, I want to give, and I'll open up when everybody's laughing." It's, like, foreshadowing of the two of them opening up to each other, when they're emotionally comfortable and confident. Other lines are "I'd go with you on a road to nowhere" and "Sweet music in the back of my mind, I'm coming home this time to you; you make me feel good."
Pretty much sets the tone for this entire story, right? You know it's going to be a happy, sappy, romantic tale.
Casey blinked and looked over at Dan. Admittedly, he'd been following that conversation rather half-heartedly as he read over his script one last time, but he was pretty sure they weren't talking about music. "What?"
Dan grinned. "You totally tuned out then, didn't you?"
"I was following the pointers about editing a good highlights tape," Casey replied, fiddling with his mike. "I may have let my attention wander when you got to 'Philistines who don't appreciate the battle.'"
Banter. Playing with words for the fun of it. The boys do that a lot. (Also, I like referencing canon. Hence, the nod towards Jeremy's troubles with editing highlights and the Philistines comment.)
"You drifted away."
"Autopilot responses," Casey admitted. "So, mix tapes?"
The autopilot line always sat weirdly with me, and it still does. Not that Casey wouldn't say that, because he says some strange things, but I wish I could have found a better way of phrasing it, of showing that he knows Dan well enough to tune out a little -- and Dan knows him well enough to let it slide.
Dan nodded. "If you think of games as albums, and individual plays as songs, the highlights are a mix tape."
And here we have the recurring theme of the piece: music. I'd say I worked it in with subtlety, but I totally didn't.
"That makes a surprising amount of warped sense."
"I was trying to explain it to Jeremy," Dan said, shifting in his dark blue jacket and pale blue shirt. "It's not a summary of the battle. It's a mix tape."
Casey raised an eyebrow. "So?"
"You're trying to choose specific songs to get the other person to understand the feel, the meaning of the battle. They don't need to see each play. They need to appreciate the overall direction."
"Huh." Casey looked over and noted they still had ninety seconds to go until air-time. "Did Jeremy understand your extended metaphor?"
I had trouble wording the extended metaphor. We all know what I mean, but there must have been a more precise/effective way to say it.
"I understood it," Jeremy said through their earpieces. He sounded a little harried; Casey assumed the control room was dealing with something more important than mix tape comparisons. "I'm not sure I agree, but I understood it."
"You should agree," Dan said to the camera.
"Why?"
"Because Danny says so," Casey offered with a grin.
That line, Casey's confident little "danny is generally right, because he's *Danny*" logic, pleases me no end.
Dan smirked. "Besides, I'm right."
"Hmmm…" Jeremy said, and then their earpieces went silent.
Casey turned back to Dan. "I take it you were a fan of the mix tape?"
"I made a lot of them in college. Didn't you?"
Casey shrugged. "Not really."
"No?"
"I used to make driving tapes, though."
"You made driving mix tapes?" Dan asked in a tone bordering on outright mockery.
"You know what it's like. Driving interstate, you end up spending hours with static because you can't find a good station. Hence, driving tapes."
It was *practical*. Of course Casey would make a mixtape for a practical reason, not a romantic one. And, of course, Danny would put a good deal of effort in college to finding easy/painfree ways to get girls -- and try to convince himself he was likeable, even though he knew he was tricking them. But that's the implied fannish knowledge of how Danny's mind works, and it's not spelt out here because this story is essentially angst-free.
"Ah," Dan said slowly. "I used to make them for people."
"People?"
"Girlfriends, mainly. You put together a romantic collection of songs, give it to them, and they think you're such a poet at heart."
Casey laughed. "Probably works better than writing poetry."
"It's all 'blah, blah, blah, you're so special,'" Dan said with a wave of his hand, "'blah, blah, blah, true love, blah, blah, blah, love at first sight.' Throw in a couple of personal touches, a song that references their smile, their eyes, their laugh, and they're putty in your hands."
I love the 'blah, blah, blah's. Can't you just see Danny's hands waving around as he says that? Okay, maybe it's just me.
Natalie squawked over their earpieces, "Danny!"
Dan amended quickly, "Well, they were back in college."
"Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am," Casey said knowingly.
Dan laughed, turning to the cameras. "More like 'wham, bam, thank you, Dan,'" he said and then smoothly switched into the show's intro.
***
Here we come to the other thing about this fic. Originally, I wanted to write two scenes for every track, but then some of them didn't have a second scene, it didn't need any more, so I left them at one. It still works, though.
The CD was sitting on Casey's desk. Thinking it was Dan's, Casey acted as he normally did: he picked it up just to be nosey. On the back cover, there was a bright yellow Post-It note with Dan's messy handwriting.
Knew you'd pick it up. The CD's for you. Dan.
Because Danny knows him that well. That's another recurring point here: how well the boys know each other. How comfortable they are with each other. How they're willing to be silly and flippant and angry and vulnerable, and they remain friends, remain trusted. It's a pretty cool thing, even when you don't take the obvious prettiness of the pair of them naked.
Track Two
Written to "Green" which always feels like a song about innocence, about being happy with the world and not realising how cynical the world can make you. It also has the lines, "If you want to be free, please don't fall for me. I could be anyone but your friend. If you open the door, I'll give a whole lot more."
See? It's *building* from *friendship*. Yes, I did take the music to a scary literal level while writing this.
Dana opened their office door and frowned at him. As far as Casey knew, he hadn't screwed anything up lately. "What?"
"I'm worried about you."
Casey blinked. "About me?"
"The network expects certain behavior from a sports anchor," Dana said seriously, pushing back a strand of shiny, blonde hair.
She has shiny blonde hair and she's also a total babe. I wish I had better abilities at physical description so I could make everyone else love Dana as much as I do.
Casey swiveled his chair around to face her fully. "And I haven't been meeting these expectations?"
"You're in sports broadcasting, Casey. We expect you to watch games, to read scores, to be aware of the latest drafting rumors."
"I keep telling Danny that it adds a certain informed quality to our scripts."
*snerk* I know that line was cleaned up in beta, but I honestly can't remember what it used to be.
"We don't expect you to barricade yourself in your room and blare pop music."
Casey as an immature, overgrown boy. It's very, very canonical.
"Ah," Casey said and turned down the speakers on his computer. "It's a new CD."
Dana raised an eyebrow and leaned her shoulder against the doorway. "Is there any reason why you're playing it at work?"
"Danny gave it to me."
Dana laughed. "I thought boys stopped giving out mix tapes in college."
Which Dana would say, without ever considering that Dan would give Casey a mixtape to get into his pants. She'd just do it to mess with Casey's mind.
Casey blinked, turning over the cover in his hand, but when he looked up to question Dana's comment, she was already gone.
***
"Danny?"
"Yeah?"
Casey held up the cover of the CD. "Is this a mix tape?"
"Who was the top pick for both the NFL and the AFL draft in 1961?"
"Mike Ditka," Casey replied easily. "Why?"
And once again, I use the book on American sports that Celli sent me. So damn useful in this fandom.
"Just wanted to make sure you hadn't lost all your marbles," Dan said as he finished writing a sentence. He placed his pen down on the desk and looked over at Casey. "That is a CD. It looks, sounds and plays like a CD. It's nothing like a mix tape. I'm wondering why you'd confuse the two."
Casey shrugged. "Dana referred to it as a mix tape." As soon as he said it, he realized how ridiculous it was. The woman was afraid of fish, for heaven's sake.
"And?" Dan asked, sniggering.
I wonder when I look over old SN stories at how many times characters laugh, snigger or snort. I have a feeling their far more amused than they should be without laughing gas. On the other hand, it's hard to learn that you need to step back and make the dialogue work for itself. If the line's funny, the audience will snigger. If it isn't, having the character laugh won't help it.
And, huh, it just occured to me that I was writing the author's version of the laugh track. I know how annoying that is on SN; I should know better.
But, yeah, that was a random bit of authorial insight, and doesn't apply too much to this story.
Casey rolled his eyes. "I wanted to make sure it wasn't a case of 'wham, bam, thank you, Dan,'" he replied dryly.
Not yet, Casey.
Dan grinned. "Worried about your reputation?"
Casey turned back to his pad of paper. "I wouldn't want everyone thinking I'm easy."
"Casey?"
"Yeah?"
"We all know about Sally."
"So?" Casey felt his brows furrow in confusion.
"You are easy."
He is. And I'm almost wondering if this scene should have stopped here, but there's a certain laziness to opening and ending with dialogue. It's a cheat: it works well, but it's a cheating way of avoiding the reaction shots. Sometimes, the reaction shots are important.
Casey rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to throw something at Dan.
Track Three
"You can't dance," Dan announced in the middle of the cheerleaders' half-time routine.
Sitting up on Dan's couch, Casey quickly took stock of the five empty beer bottles surrounding them. They weren't drunk enough to justify completely random comments. "What?"
Dude, five bottles of *American* beer between two of them. I don't think even Dan's enough of a lightweigh to get drunk on that.
Also, I blame
tboy so much for this drinking thing. I mean, really, before I wrote for the Boozefest Fuh-Q Fest, I'm pretty sure most of my slashy stories didn't involve alcohol and getting drunk. Now? It's got to be about 60% alcoholic (like a really good vodka *snerk*)."You can't dance."
Casey stared at Dan. "You said that already. Repeating it doesn't explain it."
Dan grinned and bounced to his feet. He looked surprisingly sober for someone making so little sense. Then again, Dan didn't need to be drunk to talk nonsense.
"Dance with me."
"What?"
Dan had muted the TV and was switching on the stereo. "You are a well-rounded guy, apart from the fact that you can't dance."
Also, dancing is very romantic. Two guys dancing together is something that I find appealing. *cough*DancingWIP*cough*
Casey blinked as music started to play. "Hey. I know this song." When it came to Danny's stereo it was pretty unusual for Casey to even recognize the singer.
"I know." Dan grinned. "I bought you the CD."
Casey stopped himself from humming along. "You got yourself a copy, too?"
"I got myself a copy first," Dan corrected. "Then I realized you'd like it."
"Because it isn't cool?" Casey asked suspiciously.
I love Casey's doubts about Dan's reasoning -- waiting for the mocking -- and the way that Dan won't tease him when he has another agenda.
"It's very cool, Casey. Stand up." Dan made 'get up' gestures with both hands. Casey sighed and got to his feet. "It's cool, but it's also… melodic."
"Melodic?"
"It's all about the melody. Plus, it's very easy to listen to. Of course you'd love it," Dan said, smiling widely.
And that, right there, is what I really like. That Dan knows Casey well enough to know what he'd like; that he's a good enough friend to point out his flaws and help Casey try to fix them.
"And I do," Casey said, returning Dan's grin. "But that doesn't mean I can't dance."
"Your taste in music has nothing to with your dancing difficulties."
Casey raised an eyebrow. "And what are my 'dancing difficulties'?"
"You always look uncomfortable on the dance floor."
"I don't know why we're having this conversation."
"Whenever you dance up close with someone, you look uncomfortable." Dan shrugged and started to sway loosely to the music, rolling his shoulders from side to side. "It's not a pop quiz. It's dancing. It's supposed to be fun."
Casey raised his eyebrows.
"Dance," Dan said. "Otherwise, we'll be watching the rest of the game with background music."
Casey glanced at the bright green grass on the TV screen. "You're holding the commentary ransom?"
That line still makes me snigger. Probably because the commentary is what they do well, so it's not like they couldn't call it and make up their own version. It's the principle of the thing (and the ability to mock other sportscasters) that makes Casey go through with it.
"Dance."
"Why--"
"Close your eyes if it makes you feel better."
He considered pointing out that Dan was being insane, but decided it would be easier to indulge him and then get back to the game. Closing his eyes, Casey listened to the gentle beat and started to dance, just a little. He felt like an idiot.
That last line? I *heart*. Mainly because it makes me think of Celli, of her simple way of wording things and creating a big impact. I think it works well here.
"See? No big deal."
Instead of replying to Dan's smug comment, Casey kept his eyes shut. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, moving lazily to the rhythm.
That's how the song makes me want to move -- slow, lazy sways, rolling my hips to the bass -- but describing it was a lot harder than I thought. Mainly because Casey is an Uptight White Guy who doesn't dance well. As opposed to Dan, who dances with enthusiasm, but not *well*. (The *Sprinkler*, people. He did the Sprinkler.) It's the blind leading the blind.
"What I don't get," Dan said from somewhere to Casey's left, "is why you freeze up when you dance close to someone."
Casey didn't bother arguing the point. This would probably be over more quickly if he followed Dan's demented line of reasoning without trying to make sense of it.
Another awkward line that could have been better -- somehow -- but it says what I wanted it to say. I just wish I could have made it more elegant.
"You're not a bad dancer. You just get tense." Dan's voice was behind Casey. Then Dan was behind him, resting a hand on Casey's hips as he mimicked Casey's slow steps. "There's no reason for it."
Dan was warm and solid behind him, easily matching Casey sway for sway.
Mmmmm. *wallows in the mental image*
"Honestly?" Casey asked as he turned his head and opened his eyes to Dan's relaxed smile. "I have no idea either."
Dan chuckled, and Casey felt the vibrations against his back. Holding his gaze, Dan slipped his other hand around Casey's waist. Casey smiled.
Then the television caught Dan's attention. "Hey, half-time's over, Travolta." Dan made a quick dash for the stereo while Casey fumbled for the mute button on the TV remote.
I liked the ease of this, the way that their interactions are already flirtatous, already hint at a strong level of physical intimacy and comfort, and the way that neither of the guys stops to question the appropriateness of their actions. They just accept that that's part of the Dan'n'Casey friendship, which is sweet.
Track Four
Dan was bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I want a cigarette."
"You don't smoke," Casey pointed out reasonably, hiding his amusement.
Dan shrugged at him and held an imaginary cigarette to his lips. "I used to."
Total utter fanon, there. We have no canonical proof that anyone -- other than Dana -- smokes cigarettes (and she did give them up). Isaac smokes cigars, and gave both the boys one, but that doesn't mean they normally smoke. Of course, we don't have proof that they don't, either.
"But you don't anymore."
"Which is why I don't have any. But I want one."
Casey laid a hand on Dan's shoulder, partly to reassure him and partly to stop him from jumping up and down. "Danny?"
Danny as the over-excited, maniacal kid. Again, it feels very canonical to me.
"Yeah?"
"Relax."
"That's easy for you to say," Dan shot back. "You weren't nominated."
Casey looked up at the high white ceiling and tried not to laugh. "Yeah, because I've never been up for a writing award. I wouldn't have a clue."
We know that both Casey and Dan have been nominated for awards, but only Casey's won them. This story was a bit of wish-fulfillment, a way to make the boys happy. Part of that was giving Dan the professional acclaim/reassurance that he desires so strongly in S2. To let him prove to himself that he is good at this and that others recognise his talent -- and also, to show Casey in the supportive, encouraging stable point that he is for Dan.
(After all, Dan "came with [Casey]". Dan would have been out of college a maximum of a year -- if that -- and got Lonestar because he and Casey came as a pair. Casey's never been shown to actually hamper Dan's career, to hold him back in any jealous, petty way. In fact, the argument in Draft Day is because Casey's trying to get Dan to do his job better, to pay attention to how he's damaging his career at the network... he just doesn't approach it in the best way possible.)
"That wasn't what I meant." Dan ran a hand through his hair and then stopped, smoothing it back down. He pulled at his collar, straightening his polka-dot bow-tie. "There's a chance I could win this. It's a good reason to be edgy."
Polka-dot bow-tie! The true proof that Dan is *only* cool in comparison to Casey.
Casey glanced around the empty corridor. It had been his idea to get Dan out of the chattering awards room to calm him down, to get him away from tables of people waiting to hear the winning names. Now, Casey was wondering if tying Dan to his chair would have worked better. "You're going to win."
Drawing in a shaky breath, Dan watched him doubtfully. "See, I think there's a chance, but saying stuff like that is going to jinx it. And right now I'm relying on a lot of luck."
"No, you're not."
"Trust me, Casey. I am."
"You weren't nominated because you're lucky. It's because you're talented. And you deserve this." Casey grinned at Dan and wished Dan could share his absolute confidence. He wrapped his arm around Dan's shoulders. "You'll win."
Casey has utter faith and confidence in Dan's abilities. It's another of these hints that "they know each other really, really well" and "they're a good influence on each other/stronger than they are alone".
Dan sighed loudly, but he looked a little calmer. Just a little. "Let's go back in."
***
Dan was sprawled across one side of the booth at Anthony's. His bow-tie was hanging loose around his neck, and the top button of his white shirt was undone. He was also smiling widely. "Go on."
*wallows in the mental image* Dan dressed up, and slouching back, clothes all rumpled? Mmmmmmm.
Also, it occurs to me that I haven't mentioned the song attached to this section. It's "My Friend" and the idea of the awards came from the opening line "One day they'll pay to know your name".
"What?"
"Go ahead and say it."
Casey tried to keep his expression innocent. He thought about Charlie's list of birthday presents and the last time he'd called his mom. "What are you talking about?"
Casey is a family guy. Not the perfect father, but a genuinely *good* father who tries hard. A son who's proud of his mother (and her clean kitchen floor), and had/still-has issues with his dad. It's only a small mention, but I like the inference that it's something important to him, that when he tries to look innocent, trustworthy and believable, he thinks of his family.
"Just say it, okay?" Dan grinned at him and raised his glass.
Clinking their glasses together in a mock-toast, Casey laughed. "I told you so."
A line that will appear later in the story as well, even though I didn't notice until my beta pointed it out.
"You really did. How did you know?"
"That you were going to win?"
"Yeah."
Casey shifted on the wooden seat. "I work with you every day."
"So?"
"So I know that when you're on," Casey said with a relaxed shrug, "you do great work. I knew you deserved it."
*happy sigh*
Dan's eyes softened. "Thanks."
"For putting up with your rampant ego and your illogical self-doubt?"
That line is still awkward when written. I can hear the way Casey would say it, the slightly mocking tone, the quirked eyebrow, but I couldn't get it to work on paper.
"For having faith in me," Dan said simply.
Casey patted Dan on the back. "It's only faith when there's no objective proof."
Track Five
Would it surprise anyone to know the title for this track is "Lost in the Rain"? As I said, scarily literal. (But I have to love the song for the line: "No place is where it used to be. Looking for comfort in all the wrong places.") It also mentions the idea of only being lonely when you don't understand why you feel like that, and how you can make it different by "asking for more".
Casey held his hand out and watched the light spray hit his palm. "It's raining."
Dan kept striding down the pavement. "It's around here somewhere."
"You said that two long blocks ago."
"Well, it wasn't around there, so it must be around here," Dan replied, splashing through a puddle.
I'm suddenly noticing all the childlike references/descriptions of Dan and Casey. Part of this is because there are times, when they have the combined emotional maturity of six year olds. Also, they have a certain childlike wonder at the world, at the "miracles" they see in sports, at a person's potential to do something great. Despite all their flaws, I believe they are optimistic -- there's always the hope of something amazing.
This is probably why they are my happy-ending-couple, my OTP of Hope.
Casey brought an arm up above his head, trying to shield himself from the rain. It didn't work very well. "You have no idea where this mythical bar is, do you?"
"It's not mythical," Dan replied, turning the corner. "I found it two nights ago."
"But you've lost it now?"
"It's around here somewhere." Dan stopped, looking around. He peered down each street, then shrugged and started walking again. It didn't fill Casey with confidence.
"Danny, it's raining."
"Yes."
Casey easily kept pace beside Dan. "It's one in the morning, and we're walking in the rain."
"Yes."
"Because there's a wonderful bar that you stumbled across once, and now you can't find it."
Dan grinned at him. "We're in the process of finding it."
"I don't even know where we are," Casey whined. The raindrops started coming faster and harder, and a couple slithered down the back of his neck.
Dan drew his jacket closer around his chest, stomping through puddles with ruthless determination. "Me neither."
I like the descriptions of the rain, but I'm wishing I'd described more of how the boys looked, hair damp and clinging, faces wet. (After all, they both look very nice when wet.)
Casey stopped walking. "So we're lost?"
"We're not lost," Dan said, stopping a foot in front of him. "Manhattan's a grid. You can't get lost. I just don't know precisely where we are."
"We're lost." Casey hunched his shoulders against the rain. "In the rain. You have got us lost, in the middle of the night, in the middle of a storm."
That's what having a best friend is for: blaming and complaining when things go wrong. *g*
"It's for a worthy cause." Dan scanned the buildings around them.
"For a bar that only exists in your imagination?"
"No," Dan replied distractedly, looking down the street. He started walking quickly and called out over his shoulder, "Come on."
Casey considered calling a cab. Then he shrugged and followed Dan. "What?"
Dan had stopped in front of a door with dark, smoked glass. It had gold lettering, but the font was too ornate to read. Beaming, Dan waved a hand at the doorway. "It's my mythical bar."
***
"So?"
Half an hour later, Casey was sitting in a warm, dimly lit bar. He was also drinking the best strawberry daiquiri he'd ever had. "It's good."
Strawberry daiquiri: because they're both *women*.
Dan grinned and leaned his damp shirtsleeves on the table. "Was it worth it?"
"The rain? The hour of walking? Following you for block after block as we got more and more lost?" Casey took another sip of the sweet concoction. It wasn't something he'd admit to Dana upon pain of death, but if he had to pick a favorite cocktail, a good strawberry daiquiri would win hands down.
Dan nodded. "Yeah."
"Definitely worth it." Casey took another sip. "You were right. Best strawberry daiquiri in Manhattan."
Not only do they drink girly drinks -- only when they won't get mocked by actual girls, obviously -- they drink them together. It's the lack of ego about it, the way that they're never afraid to be complete and utter dorks around each other, that I find adorable.
"Told you so."
Track Six
"I can't sleep."
"You can't sleep?"
"Yeah," Dan said, "I can't sleep."
Casey sighed and hit the mute button on his remote. "So you decided to call me at three a.m. to tell me you can't sleep?"
This song is called "Sleep". I kid you not, the first line is "tonight the TV is my friend" and the chorus goes "Sleep, sleep, it doesn't hurt to be here any more. Sleep, sleep, a box of you is lying on the floor."
(Totally off-topic, but it's also a song that always makes me think of Clex, due to the "All superheroes fast asleep. It gets so busy, seven days a week." and "For all misguided modesties, illusions of the past. And everything that's meant to be isn't always going to last. I love you, I love to turn you on.")
"Well, I was thinking about you. About what type of person you are."
"Yeah?"
"Talking to you should put me to sleep pretty quickly."
He mocks because he loves. It's canon, really.
Casey rolled his eyes and was tempted to turn the sound on his TV back on. "Go to sleep, Danny."
"I can't. That's why I called."
"Then do something."
"Like what?"
"I don't know." Casey shrugged, even though Dan couldn't see it. "Try to think of something that doesn't involve insulting me."
"It's three in the morning. I'm not that imaginative."
"Oh, I think you are."
"I'm really not."
There was a crunching from Dan's end, and Casey suddenly understood Dan's insomnia. "Are you still eating the candy Natalie gave you?"
Casey heard Dan swallow. "Maybe."
Casey laughed at Dan's guilty tone and had to push further. "Did you really think that eating sugar was going to help you sleep soundly?"
"I'm not five. It shouldn't stop me sleeping."
"And yet," Casey replied, "you can't sleep."
"I really can't."
This is how I love to see them interracting, how they interact on the show itself. I love the neurotic way that one will bug the other -- over and over -- and prove why they're best friends. Anyone else, anyone sane, wouldn't put up with this ridiculous level of annoying.
Shaking his head, Casey chuckled. "Why don't you put the sugar-high to good use? If you can't sleep, clean out the top of your closet."
"Casey," Dan whined.
"Aren't you the one that keeps complaining that you never get time to unpack those boxes? That they've been there since you moved?"
Responsibly, practical Casey who's a mature adult -- except for all the times he's not. But I love him when he takes the serious, conservative route. It's adorable.
"Yeeeeeeeeah," Dan said, stretching the syllable until it contained a world of complaints. It was the same reaction Charlie had to eating cabbage. "But..."
As a rule, I don't like whimsical spelling, messing around with letters to try to describe the sounds. But there was no other way to get the precise whine of Dan's voice across.
"But what?"
"That's boring."
"Then go to sleep."
"I can't sleep."
"Okay," Casey said firmly, "I'm hanging up now."
I'm willing to bet they end a lot of conversations that way. *laughs*
***
Dan walked into their office, yawning and holding a cardboard box.
Casey raised an eyebrow at him. "What's that?"
"This," Dan said, dropping the cardboard box on the desk and missing Casey's fingers by mere inches, "is yours."
Literal interpretation of lyrics, *again*.
"Mine?"
"This is yours from Dallas."
"How can this be my stuff?" Casey frowned and stood up, opening up the box. There were scraps of paper and a stapler. He didn't see how it was his.
"It is."
"I've unpacked all my stuff."
"You remember when we were cleaning out our desks and Lisa had the car, so I gave you and your boxes a ride home?"
Exposition, hi! I've missed you. No, not really, but at least you were nice and subtle this time.
"Yeah."
"You must have left this box in my car."
"And you moved it up with your stuff," Casey said as he rummaged through the box. There were notes in his handwriting, packs of bright yellow Post-It's, and -- aha! -- the newspaper cutouts he'd carefully saved in Dallas and then lost in the move to New York. "I wondered what happened to these."
Newspaper cut-outs. Casey would totally be the type to cut out newspaper mentions of himself and Dan. In fact, I'll bet he spent years cutting out mentions of himself and mailing them back to his mom for her scrapbook.
"Now the mystery is solved."
Casey pulled the clippings out, and then remembered what else he'd lost in the move. "Did you find that photo of us, from your twenty-fourth birthday?"
"The one where you nearly pushed me into my own cake?" Dan asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow. Then he pulled something out of his pocket. "This one?"
Casey grabbed it out of Dan's hand. "That's the one." In the photo, Dan was leaning precariously over a large chocolate cake, his dark hair long enough to fall across his brows. Casey stood beside him, hands wrapped around Dan's shoulders in an enthusiastic hug, grinning widely. It was hard to tell if Dan was laughing or about to yell at him. "We should get that framed."
I love the photo idea. The physical, visual proof that they've been *good* friends for a long, long time.
Dan snorted. "It can serve as a warning. A constant reminder of why it's dangerous to have affectionate friends."
That line is still so very, very clunky. And yet, I needed something after "...get that framed" to set the ending. It just annoys me that I rewrote that line about four times, and that was the best I could do.
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