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out_thereContinuation of this post, this is the "Sweet Music in the Back of My Mind", commentary on tracks seven to eleven:
Sweet Music in the Back of My Mind: The Commentary Track Continued
Track Seven
When Casey picked up the phone, Dan said a quick hello and then launched straight to the point. "You've never been to the ballet, right?"
And here, we come to the first canabalised section. It was, originally, the start of a story thought up during last year's "Ballet under the stars", as I sat there and imagined Casey/Dan porn, that started with Casey being conned into going to the ballet. I never finished the story, never wrote any more than this section, and it just... *worked* here. It was an effective use of previously written dialogue.
The song for this section is "Amazing." (Chorus: "'Cause you were amazing, and we did amazing things. And I wouldn't change it, 'cause we were amazing things.")
Casey cringed, already recognizing the desperate note of cheer in Dan's quick words. Dan was going to try to convince him to try something new. He just knew it. "No."
"Then today is your lucky day," Dan said confidently. "Today, you are going to see the ballet."
"I don't need to point out the uncomfortable rhyme in that sentence, do I?"
Because Casey is pernickety enough to notice that.
"In fact, in a little over an hour, you will be seeing the wonder that is the New York City Ballet performing La Sylphide. It'll rock your world."
Google, and the Internets, are *wonderful* for tracking down information on random things like the NYC ballet. Even better, I had![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
phoebesmum to help find the sites for me.
"Dan?" Casey asked sharply, trying to interrupt Dan's enthusiastic flow of words. "I don't want my world rocked. It's my night off. I want my world to gently lull me to sleep."
"It's going to be a great show. It'll be an experience you'll never forget."
"I'll never forget it, because I won't be there to remember it in the first place."
"I've got tickets!"
"It's my night off."
"It's mine, too." Dan sighed. "Melody cancelled."
Melody. I mean, really, I named Dan's love interest *Melody*. Do you think I could batter the readers with the whole music-theme any harder?
"Aw, Danny." Casey sighed. It wasn't that he hadn't expected as much, but it sucked that she kept making arrangements and canceling at the last minute. "She just called?"
"Yeah."
"And cancelled on the night?"
"An hour before we were meant to meet, she calls and says she can't make it."
"I know you like her, Danny, but..." Casey paused for a moment, trying to think of a tactful way of saying 'dump her; she's rude.' "This is the Melody you've been on two dates with, right?"
Casey thinks in semi-colons. He really, really does.
"Right."
"This is the same Melody who's cancelled on you eight times?"
Dan laughed shortly. "Nine, counting tonight."
"And you thought buying ballet tickets was a good idea?"
"Who cancels a date to the ballet?"
"Melody, apparently," he said in a lightly teasing tone. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to the ballet with you."
"Casey, these are really good seats."
"If they're so good, go on your own."
"I'm not going to sit in the New York State Theatre on my own. I'm not some freak who buys two tickets so he can have an empty seat beside him. That's creepy."
I still love that complaint. I can hear Danny saying it so clearly.
Casey snorted. "It's creepy to sit beside an empty seat? Is this a new social rule?"
"Creepy and wrong. Which is why you're going to come and keep me company," Dan said smugly.
"What makes you think--"
"You've got tonight off. I know you don't have plans."
"Winding down--"
"These are great seats. For one of the best ballet companies in the world."
"Danny--"
"This is an experience that you will treasure, my friend. How can you live in Manhattan and not see the ballet?"
"Because I--"
"Besides, as my best friend, I think you have a moral obligation to help cheer me up," Dan said, and Casey frowned at the obvious emotional manipulation. Dan only did that when something was really important or when he really wanted to be annoying. "How often do we get the same night off? This should be time to bond, man. To share a great experience. Instead, you're making me look like a total social incompetent."
"But--" Casey waited, making sure he wouldn't be interrupted this time. "Seriously, I'm not going to the ballet with you."
"It's on at Lincoln Center. Corner of Columbus Avenue and 63rd Street. Be there at seven-thirty."
"I'm not--"
"Casey? You. Are. Coming. With me."
"Danny--"
"To the ballet."
"Dan--"
"Tonight," Dan said, as if he knew it was just a matter of time; as if he was merely waiting for Casey to give in, and was prepared to irritate Casey all night otherwise.
Sighing, Casey embraced defeat. "What's the dress code?"
"Smart casual," Dan said sweetly. "I'll see you there."
I'd say something, but I'm very pleased with that banter. So, you know, I'm being a boring commentator, but that's okay.
***
They were halfway through the third act before Casey noticed Dan's arm across the back of his chair. He was pretty sure they hadn't been sitting like that before the intermission. Probably.
In other words, Dan took Casey out on a date, and probably tried the old yawn-and-stretch routine without Casey noticing. It's precisely their level of dorky-cool.
Casey dragged his attention from the twirling dancers on stage -- how anyone could spin that many times and remain balanced was beyond him -- and glanced at Dan.
Dan grinned. "What do you think?"
Casey blinked, turning back to the stage. "It's incredible," he whispered back. "Mesmerizing."
"Amazing, huh?"
Lyric reference.
"Absolutely."
"So next time Melody stands me up--"
Casey whipped his head around. "There's going to be a next time?"
"If there's a next time, maybe you could take my word on it when I say you'll enjoy it?"
Casey nodded, watching Dan's profile closely. "You're not really going out with her again, are you?"
"I don't think so." Dan's wry smile softened, shifting into something a little less jaded. "But we should do this again."
Casey settled back in his seat and felt Dan's hand slide over to his shoulder. "We really should."
And, again, it's not the physical liberties they take with each other -- and the way that anyone else in the audience would be pretty sure they're a couple -- it's the way that they don't even stop to consider it, let alone wonder if there's anything wrong with it.
Track Eight
Dan was perched on the desk, tapping his feet against the drawers in harmony with the tinny music coming from the laptop. Casey walked into their office just in time to see Dan rip another page out of his notebook, screw it up and throw it unerringly into the waste bin.
Another example of them indulging their inner-child. I'm amazed I never noticed this while writing it.
"Are you going to spend the rest of the afternoon doing that?"
Dan rolled his eyes. "It's Tuesday, Casey. What do you expect me to do?"
"We could get out of the office for a while."
"And do what? Sit outside and wait for game results?" Dan asked sarcastically. "Because I can do that here without having to move."
Casey pulled his metaphorical trump card out of his wallet. He took out two white tickets and handed them to Dan. "Dana's not going to miss us for a couple of hours."
I love the effort that Casey's gone to -- effort, without quite understanding what he's doing, but effort nonetheless. There is something delightfully *earnest* about Casey, about the way he tried to plan his date with Dana, about the way he kept trying to tell her how he felt.
Raising an eyebrow, Dan looked over the tickets. Then he beamed. "We're going to the opera?"
Casey smiled. The expression on Dan's face made the effort of getting the tickets worth it. Then he took in what Dan had said. "You mean the ballet."
"These are opera tickets."
"No, they're not."
"It's Die Fledermaus by Strauss." Dan stood up and waved the tickets in front of Casey's face. "That's an opera."
"I thought it was a ballet."
*pets Casey* Poor guy. Should have been willing to ask the ticket guy about it instead of takling the internet -- probably with Jeremy's help -- and trying to be all technologically savvy about it. (And, yes, that's a detail that didn't need to go in the story, so it didn't, but that's what he did.)
"And the fact that it's at the Met -- the Metropolitan Opera House -- didn't clue you in at all?"
"I thought it was at Lincoln Center," Casey said, begrudging his mistake. He'd spent his day off calling around, trying to make sense of terms like Center Parterre and Grand Tier as he searched for a ballet that played a weekday matinee. And he'd bought tickets for the opera? That sucked. "We went to Lincoln Center last time."
"The Met is part of Lincoln Center."
"Oh."
"Come on, Casey. Cheer up. We've got tickets to the Met."
Casey snatched the tickets out of Dan's hand. "I spent good money to go see the opera. Excuse me if I'm a little disappointed."
They're even cute when the pout and sulk.
"You were really looking forward to the ballet?"
"It was pretty damn amazing last time. You can't argue with that type of athleticism." Casey shoved the tickets back into his wallet. "Paying to hear people warble onstage? I can live without that."
"You can't dismiss it that quickly," Dan said, grinning. "You've never even been to the opera."
"You don't know that."
"I'm making an educated guess."
"You could be wrong."
"But I'm not." Dan laughed. "How do you know you don't like it, if you've never been?"
Casey shrugged. "Cultural osmosis."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning I've seen enough Bugs Bunny to know opera isn't my thing."
"You're basing your opinions on Elmer Fudd's stirring rendition of 'Kill the Wabbit'?" Dan rolled his eyes; then he held out his hand. "That's it. Give me the tickets. We're going to the opera."
That cracks me up because Casey totally would. He's invested enough in being socially accepted that he'd be the type to dislike opera because most guys dislike opera. He'd do it without even consciously thinking about it.
But he'd also change his mind -- eventually -- when presented with the facts and the experience.
Casey squinted, scrunching up his face. "Do I have to?"
"Yes. And before you ask why, please remember that we had the same conversation about the ballet. And I was right."
Casey took a long look at Dan. There he was, wearing faded, black jeans and a simple white T-shirt, his eyebrows raised and his lips quirked as he waited for Casey to give in and give him what he wanted. "What makes you think I'll say yes?" Casey asked, knowing that he'd end up sitting in some ornate theatre, with Dan enthusiastic and excited beside him.
I like the growing physical awareness of Danny. I wish I'd worked it in a little smoother, made it clear that Casey was becoming more aware of Danny, of how he looked, of his expressions, but it still works as is.
"Right now, you've got a choice between going with me to the opera and experiencing something truly magical," Dan said as he grabbed his jacket, "or staying here, and dealing with Kim and Elliot when they inevitably get bored and start bickering."
Casey dashed to his jacket. He ignored the smug look Dan shot at him. "I've already paid for the tickets."
"Sure," Dan said, managing to pour at least a gallon of sarcasm into one syllable.
Pouring sugar or sarcasm into words is such a cliched way of describing a tone. But sometimes it's fun to embrace the cliche and go with it.
On their way across the bullpen, Casey caught Natalie's eye and gave her a quick wave. "We're off."
"Make sure you're back by six!" she called back, and then she and Kim went back to discussing something that looked important but seemed to involve People magazine.
"Look on the bright side," Dan said, as they waited for the elevator doors to open, "it's by Strauss."
"What's bright about that?"
"It's in German."
"So?"
Dan grinned. "You can translate for me."
Casey stepped into the elevator and thought of leaning against Dan, whispering into his ear. Maybe the opera wouldn't be so bad.
*happy sigh* Having Casey whisper sweet nothings into my ear? Doesn't sound like a bad idea at all. Danny's *smart*.
Also, the song to this section is "Downtown" and I have no idea how/if that linked up to this part of the story, other than vague references to getting out and going downtown.
"You will, right?" Dan asked, pressing the ground floor button.
"Sehr gern." When Dan raised an eyebrow, Casey translated, "Willingly."
Track Nine
Casey leaned against the doorframe, staring at the shadowed hills of Dan's bed until the mounds resolved into curves of legs, shoulders, arms. He'd woken up on Dan's three-seater couch with a very full bladder making an annoyance of itself. Once he'd relieved that pressure -- and then washed his hands, because you always washed your hands -- he'd felt a little too awake to go back to sleep.
You always wash your hands. I have hope that someday Casey will teach Danny that.
Also, suddenly, we have the physical adjectives, the actual description of setting and scene. Hopefully it's not too jarring -- since the last two thirds of the fic barely said where they were, let alone what the room looked like.
So he'd switched off the stark bathroom light and carefully made his way through the sudden darkness to Dan's bedroom door.
As he stood there, the black-on-black resolved into shades of shadow: the dark charcoal of carpet and the light grey square of Dan's wide bed; the inky black of Dan's navy sheets and the pearly green of Dan's skin tinted by his alarm clock.
Now he could see that Dan was lying on his side, one leg bent and stretched over the other, one hand curled up on the pillow. He'd kicked his comforters down until they lay across his stomach, leaving his chest naked and exposed. From one corner, a bare foot poked out, toes pointed towards the wall.
Casey shifted his weight, watching Dan's chest expand as he breathed deeply, slowly. Dan didn't snore, but normally, Casey could hear him breathing. Tonight, he was so quiet that only the regular rise and fall of his chest stopped Casey from going over and checking on him.
Again with the physical descriptions. Part of that I'll blame on the song ("Busride") which is slow and sleepy, with soft base and lines that I consider romantic ("If you want to take the world on now, I will, right there beside you. If you want to sleep the whole day through, I will, right there beside you.").
It's the perfect song for a slow scene of romantic revelation, which is what this scene was meant to be. That moment where the friendship became something more intimate, more sexual, and is truly acknowledged. It didn't need declarations, or smut, but just that quiet acceptance that this is where they've been headed for years.
Casey let his gaze drift from that cheeky foot up hills of leg, elbow and shoulder to that long stretch of neck. Then he realized Dan's eyes were open, watching him.
He probably should have apologized or made a joke. If he'd felt uncomfortable and guilty, he would have. But he didn't. He felt hazy and a little tired, mellow and content.
Again, there's the comfort zone of being with each other, the lack of *hiding* and defending yourself. If you can't relax with your SO, if you can't have one place, and one person, where you're allowed to have moments of weakness and uncertainty without losing their respect, what's the point?
Dan didn't make a joke either. He lifted his hand towards Casey, palm up and open. For a moment, Casey stared, breathing in the strong lines of Dan's silhouette and wondering at the ease of the gesture. Wondering at the way it felt simple and obvious to walk across that dark ground and slide his hand into Dan's grip.
Dan pulled him closer, pressing warm lips against Casey's chilled knuckles. Then he rolled back and lifted one corner of the bedding in clear invitation, and all Casey could think was 'yes'.
What isn't written here is the way that Casey would have got into bed beside Dan, curled up around him, and fallen back asleep. Or the way that they both woke up later that night, in early morning, just before dawn had started to lighten the sky, and started making out.
Partly because it would have shaken the flow of the story, partly because it would have taken away the impact of those entwined hands and that first gentle kiss to Casey's knuckles. (Also, because I'm lazy, and this story was a year overdue already.)
***
Dan pushed inside, and it was sharp and invasive and too much. Then Dan was kissing him tenderly, mumbling reassurances against Casey's lips and jaw. Casey didn't hear the words, but he knew the tone of voice; he understood their meaning. It didn't really help.
Canabalised part the second. This was originally just a standalone smutlet, but it was the first time that I wanted for Casey. I should also say that it's heavily... influence by QaFUK, since it was the UK-Justin (I'm blanking on names at the moment) telling his best friend about sleeping with Stuart that inspired me to try to sit down and write a porn scene that was as oddly honest and intimate as his little confession.
Then I thought of the "It was like running past third base and sliding home." line that appears below, and tried writing. It didn't quite end up the way I'd planned, but it's a scene that I like, that suits Dan and Casey. Hence, I wanted to use it in this story.
"Breathe, Casey." Dan stopped moving, and hovered above him with his hips frozen -- or possibly fused -- to Casey's skin. He cupped Casey's cheek in one palm, pressing his thumb along the cheekbone, and smiled. "Just breathe."
"I'm okay," Casey said, forcing a shaky smile.
Dan shifted his weight to his arms, and started to pull out. He was moving slowly -- dragging loud, ragged breaths through clenched teeth -- but it still made Casey wince. He felt stretched and open, left strangely empty while Dan paused and gulped a breath before pushing back in.
Moving slowly and carefully, Dan kept kissing him as if that could make this easier, and this time it wasn't as bad. It was still intense, still too much; still higher and deeper than Casey had ever imagined, but it was better. Good enough that this time, he didn't grimace when Dan pulled away.
The "higher and deeper" phrase? Totally stolen from QaFUK. Totally.
When Dan pushed in again, it was easier, smoother; no longer impossible to roll his hips with Dan's and relax as Dan pulled out. The rhythm set itself: in and out, impossibly-empty and then impossibly-full. Casey groaned and squirmed as Dan dropped his head to Casey's shoulder and grunted, thrusting harder. Casey could hear himself making these sounds -- low groans and embarrassingly desperate gasps -- as he tried to tell Dan this was beyond good. This felt mind-blowing and overwhelming, important and necessary for Casey to keep breathing.
Dan held him and thrust so surely, and it was everything sex should be, everything it never was; everything Casey had been searching for, without even knowing he was missing it. It was like running past third base and sliding home.
And, wow, Casey even thinks in semi-colons during sex. *sniggers* I hadn't noticed that before.
Track Ten
"It occurs to me," Dan said, as he slid back into bed with two coffees, "that I haven't asked."
"Haven't asked what?"
"Are you okay with this?"
Casey took one of the mugs from Dan and blew on it until it stopped steaming. "It's a little hot, but it's good."
"No, I meant," Dan paused, pulling a face, "us."
This was one of the last scenes to be written (the others were Track Eleven, and the Going to the Opera scene). Normally, I write chronologically because it's the only way to keep my interest in a story (I find out what happens as I write it). This one was written in bits and pieces, filled in as I thought of ideas to work into the missing slots.
I knew that I wanted porn here -- wanted the happy, familiar sex that should come from this (and the porn was another canabalised scene) -- but it took me a long time to realise that what they needed *first* was some type of resolution regarding the relationship. Something that said they were both serious about it, without necessarily being a "I'll love you forever" type of thing.
And then, I thought of the dishes metaphor, and lo, it worked.
Casey found himself grimacing in return. "It's hard to explain."
"Try."
"It's just… Lisa and me, we were… And you and me, we're... It's different."
Dan raised an eyebrow. "It's different?"
"It's totally different," Casey said, forcing himself to sip the too-hot coffee.
There were insults sitting on the tip of Dan's tongue, Casey was sure. But instead of airing them, Dan narrowed his eyes and waited for Casey to swallow. Then he asked, "In what way?"
"In the way you make me feel," Casey said, placing his mug down on one of Dan's bedside tables. He leaned across the bed and kissed Dan soundly, loving the way Dan's hands came up to cup his jaw, carefully holding him there.
He pulled back, and Dan grinned. "I will not be distracted by kissing."
"Oh, I think you will," Casey said, kissing Dan again.
*snerk* Yes, the phrasing is overly formal, but that line of Casey's still amuses me.
This time, Dan had to blink a few times before he spoke. "Okay, I'll be temporarily distracted, but I'll bug you about this tomorrow. And the day after, if necessary."
"But there'll be kissing, right?"
"Yeah, but..." Dan frowned a little, and Casey suddenly realized Dan was more worried than he should have been. "Is it different in a good way?"
Casey played with the mug, turning it in his hands and slowly draining it as he tried to think of a response. It wasn't easy to describe how Dan -- how Dan's touch -- made him feel. "Your mom had a set of good dishes, right?"
Dan's brows jumped. "The good china?"
"The type of dishes you buy because they're beautiful, because you want them, regardless of how impractical they are. They're the dishes that you treat carefully, that you only use on special occasions because they're delicate and they're breakable. They're precious, you know?"
"And when you break one, you know you're going to be paying for it out of your allowance for months," Dan added.
"Yeah. Then there are the everyday dishes. The dishes that aren't bought for beauty, they're bought for practicality. They're supposed to be solid and dependable and not break under pressure. But if they do break, it's not a big deal because they're easily replaced." Casey paused, glancing at Dan's dark eyes. "Lisa made me feel like I was the everyday dishes."
Really, this sums up a lot of what I think about Casey and Lisa. Casey's wasn't the perfect husband -- that's clear -- but I'm also sure that being married didn't make him feel good about himself. He felt good that he could do his job well -- as long as Dan was beside him -- he undoubtedly loved Charlie, loved being a father, but I'm not sure he liked being a husband. Part of him is traditional, conservative, and wanted the wife and 2.3 kids. Part of him wanted to be a Responsible Man (which is not quite the same as a Responsible Adult because Casey does have defined ideas of Men and Women), but I think he also felt pressured and ignored, trapped into acting a certain way because he was Married (because he'd said the vows, given his word, and he'd stand by it come hell or highwater) and refused to acknowledge to himself how miserable he was.
Of course, Lisa would have been miserable. Casey would have been passive-aggressive, rebelling to do what he wanted and refusing to talk about their relationship honestly -- because that would mean admitting he wasn't happy, admitting that he had somehow failed in his desire to be a Good Husband and a Good Father -- and at the same time, utterly determined to continue the relationship, regardless of how painful it was, forever. I'm pretty sure Lisa was the one who finally told Casey to go and that she was the one who asked for a divorce.
In summary, I don't think it was Lisa's fault that Casey felt that way. I think he was trying to force himself to fit a socially accepted model that didn't suit him, and didn't answer his needs. But I do think that Casey authentically thinks that Lisa *made* him feel a certain way, whereas Dan doesn't. (There is an odd passivity to Casey and his emotions; he has a strange way of avoiding responsibility for them and making how he feels someone else's problem. I mean, I love the guy dearly, but it's there.)
"Solid and dependable, huh?" Dan didn't say 'not special' or 'not important,' but Casey could see by the tight, disapproving frown that he understood.
"Pretty much." Casey finished the rest of his coffee, waiting for Dan to get what he was really trying to say.
"And I," Dan paused, a little uncertain, "I make you feel like the good china?"
Casey brushed his lips over Dan's cheek. He let his mouth hover there, nearly touching Dan's skin, because this was the type of thing that should be whispered close. "Every time you touch me."
***
There was no doubt about it. When it came to bedroom activities, Dan was the go-to guy. He didn't trip over his words -- or stumble over his discarded shoes, like Casey frequently did -- he was smooth and confident, easy inside his skin in a way that Casey had never been. Dan had a way of making it all work. Whether it was fast and desperate, or light and teasing, Dan could focus Casey, could make Casey's entire world contract to here and now.
Another canabalised piece, that works well with the song ("Burn") which is all about wanting to burn brighter, wanting to go higher, wanting it to be too much. It works well with any slow sex scene.
I like the obvious inference of passed time, of the number of times they've slept together and worked out their rhythms.
Casey liked this best of all: slow and sweet, stretched out on the bed with his arms above his head, the cotton sheet rubbing against his chest, his stomach, and his cock every time Dan moved.
His hands were clenched, clawing into the top of the mattress, but it was Dan's hand around his wrist that made this so good. Dan's tight grip, not holding Casey down, but keeping him grounded as Dan slid in and out, as Dan rolled his hips and reshaped Casey into this needy, whimpering thing.
Light bondage, and letting yourself go, being sure that the other person will keep you safe. No wonder I like this section so much.
Dan panted against his shoulder-blades -- occasionally dropping random kisses on the nape of his neck or sharp, unexpected bites -- and Casey could feel Dan's chest against his back, could feel Dan's weight shift above him with each slow thrust. Casey pressed his cheek into the pillow, feeling pushed and pulled like the tide.
Hee! Sea references, as they pertain to Danny, always amuse me. Mainly because I used a lot of them before writing "Like Sailing and Home Runs" and never actually noticed.
Dan's hand was secured on Casey's hip, and Casey knew that when he got too desperate -- when the soft whimpers turned into incoherent, wordless begging; when the rub of the cotton against his cock and the stretch of Dan inside him was too much to bear -- that Danny would be there: one hand around Casey's wrists and the other around Casey's cock, carrying him home.
And, huh, again there's the mention of "home" at the end of a smut scene, of the metaphor of orgasm as coming home. It's probably another sign of my obvious bias towards "comfort" being necessary for romance and intimacy. Huh.
But right now, with his skin singing and Danny inside him and around him and above him, Casey wanted this to last all night.
Hmmm. The tenses in that line seem off. See, this is the problem with canabalising present-tense smut scenes and using them for past-tense stories. Well, actually, it's just a problem with my writing. When I start writing smut or action -- especially if I'm tired -- I can slip into present tense very easily. (I blame it on SV and the way that so many of my favourite stories were present tense.) It's better than it used to be, but it's still annoying.
Track Eleven
"Where's Dan?" Dana stood in their doorway, wearing a long, smoky grey skirt and pointed black heels that were tapping an angry, staccato beat. "I mean it, Casey. Where the hell is he?"
Wow. I really, really like that description of Dana. This is another story where my physical descriptions are hit-and-miss (and frequently completely absent). I sometimes wish that I wrote likeslodwick or oxoniensis, with this clear, vivid visual picture of where the characters are and what they're doing.
I'm better at it now, but it's still not as strong as I'd like.
Casey swung the desk chair around to face her. "He's on his way to his interview."
"The interview was at two-thirty. It's now two thirty-five, and no one knows where he is."
Casey shook his head. "The interview was at three o'clock, it's now two thirty-five, and Danny is on his way there."
"The interview was moved to two-thirty."
"It was?"
Dana huffed sharply. "I told you guys at the noon rundown."
"I missed that," Casey said, holding up a hand to wave off blame. "I had that thing at Charlie's school, remember?"
Casey as a father. *happy sigh* Seriously, when Casey talks to Charlie in "What Kind of a Day has it Been" I have the overwhelming urge to jump his bones and cry, "Take me now, I'm yours!" I don't know when being a good parent became such a turn-on for me, but it did.
"Fine." From Dana's narrowed eyes, it obviously wasn't fine. "Dan knows that it was moved to two-thirty."
"But I was the one keeping an eye on the time for him."
Dana patted the doorframe a few times, and then turned around. "Like that helps me," she called out as she walked back to the bullpen.
Casey knew a furor when it was coming. He scrambled after Dana, calling out her name.
"What?" She spun on her heel, and he nearly walked into her.
Casey grimaced. He didn't have a chance of calming her down while Kim and Elliot were sitting at their desks, pretending not to eavesdrop. He placed his hands on Dana's shoulders, turned her around, and walked her over to her office.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm taking you to your office."
"Why?"
"Because the mess-up wasn't completely Dan's fault, and I don't want to apologize in front of a crowd of people." Casey frog-marched her inside and closed the door behind them. "Also, I think you're blowing this out of proportion."
Dana's eyes went dangerously wide. "Do you recall Dan begging me to let him interview Tiger Woods?"
Dan and golf. Yes, I do put a lot of stock in canon and love little mentions of it. Also, I like the physical clarity of this scene and the fairly clear way I described the Dana-Casey interactions.
Yes, I'm taking a moment to congratulate myself. Deal with it. *g*
"Yes."
"Do you have any idea how much kowtowing I had to do to organize that interview?"
"A lot."
"And now I have to call them," Dana said, her face stretching into a smile that made Casey want to hide behind her sofa, "and say that we run a very professional sports show with anchors who can't read a clock?"
"If you have their number, I could call."
Dana shot him a weary glare. Then she sighed and leaned on the edge of her desk. "That doesn't help."
"Danny was thrilled about this interview. He's not going to screw it up."
"He's not, huh? Because I've got to say, I don't like swallowing my pride at the best of times." Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, Dana pulled a face that was more worried than angry. "It doesn't help the network and it doesn't help the show when this type of screw-up happens. I can't be watching over you two every minute of the day."
"Of course not," Casey replied solicitously, even if he was secretly pleased about that. If she watched them as closely as that, he and Danny wouldn't have been able to spend yesterday afternoon sitting on the couch together, writing and reading over each other's shoulders. "We don't expect you to. And Danny is excited about this."
I also love that idea, that something as simple as sitting together on a sofa, writing and reading, is something that Casey considers a secret indulgence. It's not something that's wrong, it's not even showy, but it's this subtle little high-point of his afternoon.
They're so in love.
"So you said."
"He even tried to call his father to show off."
Dana's face softened, and the straight line of her shoulders relaxed. "Okay, fine, he'll do it right."
Even Dana knows the importance of Danny's Dad. *snerk* I don't know if she *should*, I don't know if Dan or Casey would have told her any painful details, but in this story, she apparently does. That amuses me for no real reason.
"He won't embarrass you, Dana."
"I know," Dana admitted ruefully, "but I still have to--" The phone on her desk rang, and Dana was up and grabbing at it before Casey had a chance to react.
"Dana Whitaker," she said, holding the receiver tightly. "Dan, what-- It was rescheduled, I told you-- Okay. Okay. You'll be back here by four-thirty, right? Yeah. Five at the latest. Bye."
Casey grinned. Dan's call couldn't have come at a better time. "So?"
"So," Dana said slowly, watching the receiver sitting back in its cradle. "Dan called to apologize. He said he'd just remembered that the interview was rescheduled, so he called Tiger Woods' people to say he was stuck in traffic and would be there by three. Apparently, they didn't mind."
"I--"
"Don't say it." Dana pressed against her closed eyelids. "Don't say I told you so."
Poor Dana. *pets her and sneaks a grope* Putting up with a smug 'I told you so' from Casey is a bit too much to ask.
"I didn't say a thing," Casey said as he edged out of her office.
***
Casey woke up alone in a double bed. The strange thing was that he woke up alone in Dan's double bed. He rubbed at his eyes, and then reached across. The sheet was cold.
That was enough to make Casey get out of bed, pull a robe on and go into the living room. He'd expected Dan to be in the kitchen -- getting a cold drink or making coffee -- but Dan was standing in front of the window, staring out at the choppy skyline as the sky faded to violet. A familiar CD played softly on the stereo.
Guess which CD. Go ahead, guess.
Casey wasn't surprised. Dan's father had returned his call that night, and Dan had been weirdly untouchable ever since. Casey could reach out and hold him -- and he had when they'd crawled into bed -- but he couldn't reach the bruises behind Dan's eyes. It didn't stop him from trying, though.
I like the untouchable idea, the way that there can be distance that's far more than simply physical.
And it certainly didn't stop him from walking up behind Dan, resting his chin on Dan's shoulder, and wrapping his arms around Dan's chest. "Couldn't sleep?"
Dan shrugged and rested his hands on Casey's forearms, sneaking cold fingers under the sleeves of the robe. They stood there quietly, watching the sky lighten, and then Dan mumbled something Casey couldn't hear. "What?"
"I'll make you a deal," Dan said softly.
"What kind of a deal?"
"The kind of deal where if you want out, you say so now." Dan continued in a polyester voice, smooth and fake. "If you want an easy exit, this is it. Just say so, and you can walk away: no muss, no fuss. No big scenes. No searching questions. If you want out, just-- Say the word, and you leave, and we won't talk about this again."
This is another point of literal lyrics. (It sounds like a game. Play it at home!) The song for this section is "Easy Exit Station" and it's a soft not-break-up song that I used to associate with Clark/Lex. The full lyrics are:
"How'd you get to be so beautiful,
How'd you get to be so?
When all my weakness is shining through,
How'd you get to be so?
Because you're still mine, and I'm still yours,
There's no-one left to fall behind.
When one's illusion is another's truth,
How'd it get to be so?
Sometimes I find it hard to say what I want to say,
How'd it get to be so?
Because you're still mine, and I'm still yours,
There's no-one left to fall behind.
So the only explanation,
It's an easy situation, don't you know? (You know.)
It's a risky conversation,
It's an easy exit station, don't you know? (You know.)
Because you're still mine, and I'm still yours,
There's no-one left to fall behind."
Simple, soft, pretty melody with gentle guitar strummings and the type of careful wording that isn't a break-up so much as an epiphany, a moment of realising this is it, a moment of ultimatums.
And that's what this scene is: it's the moment of promise, the moment of confirming their commitment to making this work. (Yes, I really am this much of a sap. I blame it on Casey/Dan. They're my OTP of Hope, how can I resist giving them a happy ending?)
Casey felt his arms tighten around Dan's ribcage. He swallowed, and his voice wasn't smooth or charming; it was rough and a little scared. "It wouldn't make any difference."
"What?" Dan turned his head quickly, glancing over his shoulder. He looked young and fragile, but above all, he suddenly looked touchable.
"Leaving now wouldn't change anything." Casey lifted a hand and traced the warm shadows beneath Dan's jaw. He felt Dan's throat move as he breathed, as he swallowed. "I'd still be yours. And I'd still think of you as mine. This isn't something I could walk away from."
Literal lyrics, but it might be the last one.
Dan turned his head away, but he didn't step out of Casey's embrace. "Maybe it should be."
"Danny?" Casey asked, keeping one hand against Dan's neck, feeling the strong pulse with his fingertips.
"Yeah?"
"I'm not going anywhere."
The sky shifted to pink and orange as the first rays of treacle-colored sunlight started to hit the buildings in front of them, creeping across the highest roofs. The stereo switched over to a new song and Dan started to sway to the slow rhythm. Casey settled his hands on Dan's hips and moved with Dan, letting the tension ease out of his spine.
Another moment of physical descriptions, but there's part of me that loves it, loves the cliche of sunrises signifying new beginnings, of colors shifting and merging like the meaning of gestures changes according to the context. Also, they deserve a nice view.
They stayed there, not quite dancing, while the sky became blue. Then Dan pulled Casey's arms away from him and turned around. He buried his face in Casey's shoulder and hugged Casey hard.
Casey squeezed him back. "We should go to bed."
Dan gave a small nod and pulled back a moment before Casey was ready to let go. "It's been one of those days, you know?"
"I know," Casey said, pressing a kiss to Dan's lips. Dan kissed him back, all soft pliancy, and Casey felt like he'd won, like he'd passed some unknown test.
And, yes, once again, back to comfort and security. Back to the idea of being able to let down your defenses, to be raw and court the pain of rejection, and still be safe, known, accepted by someone else.
Dan stepped away and walked back towards the bedroom. He paused in the doorway, and looked over his shoulder. "You coming?"
Casey nodded and followed. Behind them, the sounds of a strumming guitar drifted from the stereo.
The end. I guess I should also say that I started this for Celli's birthday, and didn't get around to finishing it until her birthday the *following* year. It's a story that had a lot of time to soak inside my brain.
And, y'know, if there's any unresolved questions, or anything you wanted to ask about this story that I didn't mention in the commentary (first one I've done, so it could be self-absorbed blathering and not actually interesting), comment and I'll try to answer.
Sweet Music in the Back of My Mind: The Commentary Track Continued
Track Seven
When Casey picked up the phone, Dan said a quick hello and then launched straight to the point. "You've never been to the ballet, right?"
And here, we come to the first canabalised section. It was, originally, the start of a story thought up during last year's "Ballet under the stars", as I sat there and imagined Casey/Dan porn, that started with Casey being conned into going to the ballet. I never finished the story, never wrote any more than this section, and it just... *worked* here. It was an effective use of previously written dialogue.
The song for this section is "Amazing." (Chorus: "'Cause you were amazing, and we did amazing things. And I wouldn't change it, 'cause we were amazing things.")
Casey cringed, already recognizing the desperate note of cheer in Dan's quick words. Dan was going to try to convince him to try something new. He just knew it. "No."
"Then today is your lucky day," Dan said confidently. "Today, you are going to see the ballet."
"I don't need to point out the uncomfortable rhyme in that sentence, do I?"
Because Casey is pernickety enough to notice that.
"In fact, in a little over an hour, you will be seeing the wonder that is the New York City Ballet performing La Sylphide. It'll rock your world."
Google, and the Internets, are *wonderful* for tracking down information on random things like the NYC ballet. Even better, I had
phoebesmum to help find the sites for me."Dan?" Casey asked sharply, trying to interrupt Dan's enthusiastic flow of words. "I don't want my world rocked. It's my night off. I want my world to gently lull me to sleep."
"It's going to be a great show. It'll be an experience you'll never forget."
"I'll never forget it, because I won't be there to remember it in the first place."
"I've got tickets!"
"It's my night off."
"It's mine, too." Dan sighed. "Melody cancelled."
Melody. I mean, really, I named Dan's love interest *Melody*. Do you think I could batter the readers with the whole music-theme any harder?
"Aw, Danny." Casey sighed. It wasn't that he hadn't expected as much, but it sucked that she kept making arrangements and canceling at the last minute. "She just called?"
"Yeah."
"And cancelled on the night?"
"An hour before we were meant to meet, she calls and says she can't make it."
"I know you like her, Danny, but..." Casey paused for a moment, trying to think of a tactful way of saying 'dump her; she's rude.' "This is the Melody you've been on two dates with, right?"
Casey thinks in semi-colons. He really, really does.
"Right."
"This is the same Melody who's cancelled on you eight times?"
Dan laughed shortly. "Nine, counting tonight."
"And you thought buying ballet tickets was a good idea?"
"Who cancels a date to the ballet?"
"Melody, apparently," he said in a lightly teasing tone. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to the ballet with you."
"Casey, these are really good seats."
"If they're so good, go on your own."
"I'm not going to sit in the New York State Theatre on my own. I'm not some freak who buys two tickets so he can have an empty seat beside him. That's creepy."
I still love that complaint. I can hear Danny saying it so clearly.
Casey snorted. "It's creepy to sit beside an empty seat? Is this a new social rule?"
"Creepy and wrong. Which is why you're going to come and keep me company," Dan said smugly.
"What makes you think--"
"You've got tonight off. I know you don't have plans."
"Winding down--"
"These are great seats. For one of the best ballet companies in the world."
"Danny--"
"This is an experience that you will treasure, my friend. How can you live in Manhattan and not see the ballet?"
"Because I--"
"Besides, as my best friend, I think you have a moral obligation to help cheer me up," Dan said, and Casey frowned at the obvious emotional manipulation. Dan only did that when something was really important or when he really wanted to be annoying. "How often do we get the same night off? This should be time to bond, man. To share a great experience. Instead, you're making me look like a total social incompetent."
"But--" Casey waited, making sure he wouldn't be interrupted this time. "Seriously, I'm not going to the ballet with you."
"It's on at Lincoln Center. Corner of Columbus Avenue and 63rd Street. Be there at seven-thirty."
"I'm not--"
"Casey? You. Are. Coming. With me."
"Danny--"
"To the ballet."
"Dan--"
"Tonight," Dan said, as if he knew it was just a matter of time; as if he was merely waiting for Casey to give in, and was prepared to irritate Casey all night otherwise.
Sighing, Casey embraced defeat. "What's the dress code?"
"Smart casual," Dan said sweetly. "I'll see you there."
I'd say something, but I'm very pleased with that banter. So, you know, I'm being a boring commentator, but that's okay.
***
They were halfway through the third act before Casey noticed Dan's arm across the back of his chair. He was pretty sure they hadn't been sitting like that before the intermission. Probably.
In other words, Dan took Casey out on a date, and probably tried the old yawn-and-stretch routine without Casey noticing. It's precisely their level of dorky-cool.
Casey dragged his attention from the twirling dancers on stage -- how anyone could spin that many times and remain balanced was beyond him -- and glanced at Dan.
Dan grinned. "What do you think?"
Casey blinked, turning back to the stage. "It's incredible," he whispered back. "Mesmerizing."
"Amazing, huh?"
Lyric reference.
"Absolutely."
"So next time Melody stands me up--"
Casey whipped his head around. "There's going to be a next time?"
"If there's a next time, maybe you could take my word on it when I say you'll enjoy it?"
Casey nodded, watching Dan's profile closely. "You're not really going out with her again, are you?"
"I don't think so." Dan's wry smile softened, shifting into something a little less jaded. "But we should do this again."
Casey settled back in his seat and felt Dan's hand slide over to his shoulder. "We really should."
And, again, it's not the physical liberties they take with each other -- and the way that anyone else in the audience would be pretty sure they're a couple -- it's the way that they don't even stop to consider it, let alone wonder if there's anything wrong with it.
Track Eight
Dan was perched on the desk, tapping his feet against the drawers in harmony with the tinny music coming from the laptop. Casey walked into their office just in time to see Dan rip another page out of his notebook, screw it up and throw it unerringly into the waste bin.
Another example of them indulging their inner-child. I'm amazed I never noticed this while writing it.
"Are you going to spend the rest of the afternoon doing that?"
Dan rolled his eyes. "It's Tuesday, Casey. What do you expect me to do?"
"We could get out of the office for a while."
"And do what? Sit outside and wait for game results?" Dan asked sarcastically. "Because I can do that here without having to move."
Casey pulled his metaphorical trump card out of his wallet. He took out two white tickets and handed them to Dan. "Dana's not going to miss us for a couple of hours."
I love the effort that Casey's gone to -- effort, without quite understanding what he's doing, but effort nonetheless. There is something delightfully *earnest* about Casey, about the way he tried to plan his date with Dana, about the way he kept trying to tell her how he felt.
Raising an eyebrow, Dan looked over the tickets. Then he beamed. "We're going to the opera?"
Casey smiled. The expression on Dan's face made the effort of getting the tickets worth it. Then he took in what Dan had said. "You mean the ballet."
"These are opera tickets."
"No, they're not."
"It's Die Fledermaus by Strauss." Dan stood up and waved the tickets in front of Casey's face. "That's an opera."
"I thought it was a ballet."
*pets Casey* Poor guy. Should have been willing to ask the ticket guy about it instead of takling the internet -- probably with Jeremy's help -- and trying to be all technologically savvy about it. (And, yes, that's a detail that didn't need to go in the story, so it didn't, but that's what he did.)
"And the fact that it's at the Met -- the Metropolitan Opera House -- didn't clue you in at all?"
"I thought it was at Lincoln Center," Casey said, begrudging his mistake. He'd spent his day off calling around, trying to make sense of terms like Center Parterre and Grand Tier as he searched for a ballet that played a weekday matinee. And he'd bought tickets for the opera? That sucked. "We went to Lincoln Center last time."
"The Met is part of Lincoln Center."
"Oh."
"Come on, Casey. Cheer up. We've got tickets to the Met."
Casey snatched the tickets out of Dan's hand. "I spent good money to go see the opera. Excuse me if I'm a little disappointed."
They're even cute when the pout and sulk.
"You were really looking forward to the ballet?"
"It was pretty damn amazing last time. You can't argue with that type of athleticism." Casey shoved the tickets back into his wallet. "Paying to hear people warble onstage? I can live without that."
"You can't dismiss it that quickly," Dan said, grinning. "You've never even been to the opera."
"You don't know that."
"I'm making an educated guess."
"You could be wrong."
"But I'm not." Dan laughed. "How do you know you don't like it, if you've never been?"
Casey shrugged. "Cultural osmosis."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning I've seen enough Bugs Bunny to know opera isn't my thing."
"You're basing your opinions on Elmer Fudd's stirring rendition of 'Kill the Wabbit'?" Dan rolled his eyes; then he held out his hand. "That's it. Give me the tickets. We're going to the opera."
That cracks me up because Casey totally would. He's invested enough in being socially accepted that he'd be the type to dislike opera because most guys dislike opera. He'd do it without even consciously thinking about it.
But he'd also change his mind -- eventually -- when presented with the facts and the experience.
Casey squinted, scrunching up his face. "Do I have to?"
"Yes. And before you ask why, please remember that we had the same conversation about the ballet. And I was right."
Casey took a long look at Dan. There he was, wearing faded, black jeans and a simple white T-shirt, his eyebrows raised and his lips quirked as he waited for Casey to give in and give him what he wanted. "What makes you think I'll say yes?" Casey asked, knowing that he'd end up sitting in some ornate theatre, with Dan enthusiastic and excited beside him.
I like the growing physical awareness of Danny. I wish I'd worked it in a little smoother, made it clear that Casey was becoming more aware of Danny, of how he looked, of his expressions, but it still works as is.
"Right now, you've got a choice between going with me to the opera and experiencing something truly magical," Dan said as he grabbed his jacket, "or staying here, and dealing with Kim and Elliot when they inevitably get bored and start bickering."
Casey dashed to his jacket. He ignored the smug look Dan shot at him. "I've already paid for the tickets."
"Sure," Dan said, managing to pour at least a gallon of sarcasm into one syllable.
Pouring sugar or sarcasm into words is such a cliched way of describing a tone. But sometimes it's fun to embrace the cliche and go with it.
On their way across the bullpen, Casey caught Natalie's eye and gave her a quick wave. "We're off."
"Make sure you're back by six!" she called back, and then she and Kim went back to discussing something that looked important but seemed to involve People magazine.
"Look on the bright side," Dan said, as they waited for the elevator doors to open, "it's by Strauss."
"What's bright about that?"
"It's in German."
"So?"
Dan grinned. "You can translate for me."
Casey stepped into the elevator and thought of leaning against Dan, whispering into his ear. Maybe the opera wouldn't be so bad.
*happy sigh* Having Casey whisper sweet nothings into my ear? Doesn't sound like a bad idea at all. Danny's *smart*.
Also, the song to this section is "Downtown" and I have no idea how/if that linked up to this part of the story, other than vague references to getting out and going downtown.
"You will, right?" Dan asked, pressing the ground floor button.
"Sehr gern." When Dan raised an eyebrow, Casey translated, "Willingly."
Track Nine
Casey leaned against the doorframe, staring at the shadowed hills of Dan's bed until the mounds resolved into curves of legs, shoulders, arms. He'd woken up on Dan's three-seater couch with a very full bladder making an annoyance of itself. Once he'd relieved that pressure -- and then washed his hands, because you always washed your hands -- he'd felt a little too awake to go back to sleep.
You always wash your hands. I have hope that someday Casey will teach Danny that.
Also, suddenly, we have the physical adjectives, the actual description of setting and scene. Hopefully it's not too jarring -- since the last two thirds of the fic barely said where they were, let alone what the room looked like.
So he'd switched off the stark bathroom light and carefully made his way through the sudden darkness to Dan's bedroom door.
As he stood there, the black-on-black resolved into shades of shadow: the dark charcoal of carpet and the light grey square of Dan's wide bed; the inky black of Dan's navy sheets and the pearly green of Dan's skin tinted by his alarm clock.
Now he could see that Dan was lying on his side, one leg bent and stretched over the other, one hand curled up on the pillow. He'd kicked his comforters down until they lay across his stomach, leaving his chest naked and exposed. From one corner, a bare foot poked out, toes pointed towards the wall.
Casey shifted his weight, watching Dan's chest expand as he breathed deeply, slowly. Dan didn't snore, but normally, Casey could hear him breathing. Tonight, he was so quiet that only the regular rise and fall of his chest stopped Casey from going over and checking on him.
Again with the physical descriptions. Part of that I'll blame on the song ("Busride") which is slow and sleepy, with soft base and lines that I consider romantic ("If you want to take the world on now, I will, right there beside you. If you want to sleep the whole day through, I will, right there beside you.").
It's the perfect song for a slow scene of romantic revelation, which is what this scene was meant to be. That moment where the friendship became something more intimate, more sexual, and is truly acknowledged. It didn't need declarations, or smut, but just that quiet acceptance that this is where they've been headed for years.
Casey let his gaze drift from that cheeky foot up hills of leg, elbow and shoulder to that long stretch of neck. Then he realized Dan's eyes were open, watching him.
He probably should have apologized or made a joke. If he'd felt uncomfortable and guilty, he would have. But he didn't. He felt hazy and a little tired, mellow and content.
Again, there's the comfort zone of being with each other, the lack of *hiding* and defending yourself. If you can't relax with your SO, if you can't have one place, and one person, where you're allowed to have moments of weakness and uncertainty without losing their respect, what's the point?
Dan didn't make a joke either. He lifted his hand towards Casey, palm up and open. For a moment, Casey stared, breathing in the strong lines of Dan's silhouette and wondering at the ease of the gesture. Wondering at the way it felt simple and obvious to walk across that dark ground and slide his hand into Dan's grip.
Dan pulled him closer, pressing warm lips against Casey's chilled knuckles. Then he rolled back and lifted one corner of the bedding in clear invitation, and all Casey could think was 'yes'.
What isn't written here is the way that Casey would have got into bed beside Dan, curled up around him, and fallen back asleep. Or the way that they both woke up later that night, in early morning, just before dawn had started to lighten the sky, and started making out.
Partly because it would have shaken the flow of the story, partly because it would have taken away the impact of those entwined hands and that first gentle kiss to Casey's knuckles. (Also, because I'm lazy, and this story was a year overdue already.)
***
Dan pushed inside, and it was sharp and invasive and too much. Then Dan was kissing him tenderly, mumbling reassurances against Casey's lips and jaw. Casey didn't hear the words, but he knew the tone of voice; he understood their meaning. It didn't really help.
Canabalised part the second. This was originally just a standalone smutlet, but it was the first time that I wanted for Casey. I should also say that it's heavily... influence by QaFUK, since it was the UK-Justin (I'm blanking on names at the moment) telling his best friend about sleeping with Stuart that inspired me to try to sit down and write a porn scene that was as oddly honest and intimate as his little confession.
Then I thought of the "It was like running past third base and sliding home." line that appears below, and tried writing. It didn't quite end up the way I'd planned, but it's a scene that I like, that suits Dan and Casey. Hence, I wanted to use it in this story.
"Breathe, Casey." Dan stopped moving, and hovered above him with his hips frozen -- or possibly fused -- to Casey's skin. He cupped Casey's cheek in one palm, pressing his thumb along the cheekbone, and smiled. "Just breathe."
"I'm okay," Casey said, forcing a shaky smile.
Dan shifted his weight to his arms, and started to pull out. He was moving slowly -- dragging loud, ragged breaths through clenched teeth -- but it still made Casey wince. He felt stretched and open, left strangely empty while Dan paused and gulped a breath before pushing back in.
Moving slowly and carefully, Dan kept kissing him as if that could make this easier, and this time it wasn't as bad. It was still intense, still too much; still higher and deeper than Casey had ever imagined, but it was better. Good enough that this time, he didn't grimace when Dan pulled away.
The "higher and deeper" phrase? Totally stolen from QaFUK. Totally.
When Dan pushed in again, it was easier, smoother; no longer impossible to roll his hips with Dan's and relax as Dan pulled out. The rhythm set itself: in and out, impossibly-empty and then impossibly-full. Casey groaned and squirmed as Dan dropped his head to Casey's shoulder and grunted, thrusting harder. Casey could hear himself making these sounds -- low groans and embarrassingly desperate gasps -- as he tried to tell Dan this was beyond good. This felt mind-blowing and overwhelming, important and necessary for Casey to keep breathing.
Dan held him and thrust so surely, and it was everything sex should be, everything it never was; everything Casey had been searching for, without even knowing he was missing it. It was like running past third base and sliding home.
And, wow, Casey even thinks in semi-colons during sex. *sniggers* I hadn't noticed that before.
Track Ten
"It occurs to me," Dan said, as he slid back into bed with two coffees, "that I haven't asked."
"Haven't asked what?"
"Are you okay with this?"
Casey took one of the mugs from Dan and blew on it until it stopped steaming. "It's a little hot, but it's good."
"No, I meant," Dan paused, pulling a face, "us."
This was one of the last scenes to be written (the others were Track Eleven, and the Going to the Opera scene). Normally, I write chronologically because it's the only way to keep my interest in a story (I find out what happens as I write it). This one was written in bits and pieces, filled in as I thought of ideas to work into the missing slots.
I knew that I wanted porn here -- wanted the happy, familiar sex that should come from this (and the porn was another canabalised scene) -- but it took me a long time to realise that what they needed *first* was some type of resolution regarding the relationship. Something that said they were both serious about it, without necessarily being a "I'll love you forever" type of thing.
And then, I thought of the dishes metaphor, and lo, it worked.
Casey found himself grimacing in return. "It's hard to explain."
"Try."
"It's just… Lisa and me, we were… And you and me, we're... It's different."
Dan raised an eyebrow. "It's different?"
"It's totally different," Casey said, forcing himself to sip the too-hot coffee.
There were insults sitting on the tip of Dan's tongue, Casey was sure. But instead of airing them, Dan narrowed his eyes and waited for Casey to swallow. Then he asked, "In what way?"
"In the way you make me feel," Casey said, placing his mug down on one of Dan's bedside tables. He leaned across the bed and kissed Dan soundly, loving the way Dan's hands came up to cup his jaw, carefully holding him there.
He pulled back, and Dan grinned. "I will not be distracted by kissing."
"Oh, I think you will," Casey said, kissing Dan again.
*snerk* Yes, the phrasing is overly formal, but that line of Casey's still amuses me.
This time, Dan had to blink a few times before he spoke. "Okay, I'll be temporarily distracted, but I'll bug you about this tomorrow. And the day after, if necessary."
"But there'll be kissing, right?"
"Yeah, but..." Dan frowned a little, and Casey suddenly realized Dan was more worried than he should have been. "Is it different in a good way?"
Casey played with the mug, turning it in his hands and slowly draining it as he tried to think of a response. It wasn't easy to describe how Dan -- how Dan's touch -- made him feel. "Your mom had a set of good dishes, right?"
Dan's brows jumped. "The good china?"
"The type of dishes you buy because they're beautiful, because you want them, regardless of how impractical they are. They're the dishes that you treat carefully, that you only use on special occasions because they're delicate and they're breakable. They're precious, you know?"
"And when you break one, you know you're going to be paying for it out of your allowance for months," Dan added.
"Yeah. Then there are the everyday dishes. The dishes that aren't bought for beauty, they're bought for practicality. They're supposed to be solid and dependable and not break under pressure. But if they do break, it's not a big deal because they're easily replaced." Casey paused, glancing at Dan's dark eyes. "Lisa made me feel like I was the everyday dishes."
Really, this sums up a lot of what I think about Casey and Lisa. Casey's wasn't the perfect husband -- that's clear -- but I'm also sure that being married didn't make him feel good about himself. He felt good that he could do his job well -- as long as Dan was beside him -- he undoubtedly loved Charlie, loved being a father, but I'm not sure he liked being a husband. Part of him is traditional, conservative, and wanted the wife and 2.3 kids. Part of him wanted to be a Responsible Man (which is not quite the same as a Responsible Adult because Casey does have defined ideas of Men and Women), but I think he also felt pressured and ignored, trapped into acting a certain way because he was Married (because he'd said the vows, given his word, and he'd stand by it come hell or highwater) and refused to acknowledge to himself how miserable he was.
Of course, Lisa would have been miserable. Casey would have been passive-aggressive, rebelling to do what he wanted and refusing to talk about their relationship honestly -- because that would mean admitting he wasn't happy, admitting that he had somehow failed in his desire to be a Good Husband and a Good Father -- and at the same time, utterly determined to continue the relationship, regardless of how painful it was, forever. I'm pretty sure Lisa was the one who finally told Casey to go and that she was the one who asked for a divorce.
In summary, I don't think it was Lisa's fault that Casey felt that way. I think he was trying to force himself to fit a socially accepted model that didn't suit him, and didn't answer his needs. But I do think that Casey authentically thinks that Lisa *made* him feel a certain way, whereas Dan doesn't. (There is an odd passivity to Casey and his emotions; he has a strange way of avoiding responsibility for them and making how he feels someone else's problem. I mean, I love the guy dearly, but it's there.)
"Solid and dependable, huh?" Dan didn't say 'not special' or 'not important,' but Casey could see by the tight, disapproving frown that he understood.
"Pretty much." Casey finished the rest of his coffee, waiting for Dan to get what he was really trying to say.
"And I," Dan paused, a little uncertain, "I make you feel like the good china?"
Casey brushed his lips over Dan's cheek. He let his mouth hover there, nearly touching Dan's skin, because this was the type of thing that should be whispered close. "Every time you touch me."
***
There was no doubt about it. When it came to bedroom activities, Dan was the go-to guy. He didn't trip over his words -- or stumble over his discarded shoes, like Casey frequently did -- he was smooth and confident, easy inside his skin in a way that Casey had never been. Dan had a way of making it all work. Whether it was fast and desperate, or light and teasing, Dan could focus Casey, could make Casey's entire world contract to here and now.
Another canabalised piece, that works well with the song ("Burn") which is all about wanting to burn brighter, wanting to go higher, wanting it to be too much. It works well with any slow sex scene.
I like the obvious inference of passed time, of the number of times they've slept together and worked out their rhythms.
Casey liked this best of all: slow and sweet, stretched out on the bed with his arms above his head, the cotton sheet rubbing against his chest, his stomach, and his cock every time Dan moved.
His hands were clenched, clawing into the top of the mattress, but it was Dan's hand around his wrist that made this so good. Dan's tight grip, not holding Casey down, but keeping him grounded as Dan slid in and out, as Dan rolled his hips and reshaped Casey into this needy, whimpering thing.
Light bondage, and letting yourself go, being sure that the other person will keep you safe. No wonder I like this section so much.
Dan panted against his shoulder-blades -- occasionally dropping random kisses on the nape of his neck or sharp, unexpected bites -- and Casey could feel Dan's chest against his back, could feel Dan's weight shift above him with each slow thrust. Casey pressed his cheek into the pillow, feeling pushed and pulled like the tide.
Hee! Sea references, as they pertain to Danny, always amuse me. Mainly because I used a lot of them before writing "Like Sailing and Home Runs" and never actually noticed.
Dan's hand was secured on Casey's hip, and Casey knew that when he got too desperate -- when the soft whimpers turned into incoherent, wordless begging; when the rub of the cotton against his cock and the stretch of Dan inside him was too much to bear -- that Danny would be there: one hand around Casey's wrists and the other around Casey's cock, carrying him home.
And, huh, again there's the mention of "home" at the end of a smut scene, of the metaphor of orgasm as coming home. It's probably another sign of my obvious bias towards "comfort" being necessary for romance and intimacy. Huh.
But right now, with his skin singing and Danny inside him and around him and above him, Casey wanted this to last all night.
Hmmm. The tenses in that line seem off. See, this is the problem with canabalising present-tense smut scenes and using them for past-tense stories. Well, actually, it's just a problem with my writing. When I start writing smut or action -- especially if I'm tired -- I can slip into present tense very easily. (I blame it on SV and the way that so many of my favourite stories were present tense.) It's better than it used to be, but it's still annoying.
Track Eleven
"Where's Dan?" Dana stood in their doorway, wearing a long, smoky grey skirt and pointed black heels that were tapping an angry, staccato beat. "I mean it, Casey. Where the hell is he?"
Wow. I really, really like that description of Dana. This is another story where my physical descriptions are hit-and-miss (and frequently completely absent). I sometimes wish that I wrote like
slodwick or oxoniensis, with this clear, vivid visual picture of where the characters are and what they're doing.I'm better at it now, but it's still not as strong as I'd like.
Casey swung the desk chair around to face her. "He's on his way to his interview."
"The interview was at two-thirty. It's now two thirty-five, and no one knows where he is."
Casey shook his head. "The interview was at three o'clock, it's now two thirty-five, and Danny is on his way there."
"The interview was moved to two-thirty."
"It was?"
Dana huffed sharply. "I told you guys at the noon rundown."
"I missed that," Casey said, holding up a hand to wave off blame. "I had that thing at Charlie's school, remember?"
Casey as a father. *happy sigh* Seriously, when Casey talks to Charlie in "What Kind of a Day has it Been" I have the overwhelming urge to jump his bones and cry, "Take me now, I'm yours!" I don't know when being a good parent became such a turn-on for me, but it did.
"Fine." From Dana's narrowed eyes, it obviously wasn't fine. "Dan knows that it was moved to two-thirty."
"But I was the one keeping an eye on the time for him."
Dana patted the doorframe a few times, and then turned around. "Like that helps me," she called out as she walked back to the bullpen.
Casey knew a furor when it was coming. He scrambled after Dana, calling out her name.
"What?" She spun on her heel, and he nearly walked into her.
Casey grimaced. He didn't have a chance of calming her down while Kim and Elliot were sitting at their desks, pretending not to eavesdrop. He placed his hands on Dana's shoulders, turned her around, and walked her over to her office.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm taking you to your office."
"Why?"
"Because the mess-up wasn't completely Dan's fault, and I don't want to apologize in front of a crowd of people." Casey frog-marched her inside and closed the door behind them. "Also, I think you're blowing this out of proportion."
Dana's eyes went dangerously wide. "Do you recall Dan begging me to let him interview Tiger Woods?"
Dan and golf. Yes, I do put a lot of stock in canon and love little mentions of it. Also, I like the physical clarity of this scene and the fairly clear way I described the Dana-Casey interactions.
Yes, I'm taking a moment to congratulate myself. Deal with it. *g*
"Yes."
"Do you have any idea how much kowtowing I had to do to organize that interview?"
"A lot."
"And now I have to call them," Dana said, her face stretching into a smile that made Casey want to hide behind her sofa, "and say that we run a very professional sports show with anchors who can't read a clock?"
"If you have their number, I could call."
Dana shot him a weary glare. Then she sighed and leaned on the edge of her desk. "That doesn't help."
"Danny was thrilled about this interview. He's not going to screw it up."
"He's not, huh? Because I've got to say, I don't like swallowing my pride at the best of times." Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, Dana pulled a face that was more worried than angry. "It doesn't help the network and it doesn't help the show when this type of screw-up happens. I can't be watching over you two every minute of the day."
"Of course not," Casey replied solicitously, even if he was secretly pleased about that. If she watched them as closely as that, he and Danny wouldn't have been able to spend yesterday afternoon sitting on the couch together, writing and reading over each other's shoulders. "We don't expect you to. And Danny is excited about this."
I also love that idea, that something as simple as sitting together on a sofa, writing and reading, is something that Casey considers a secret indulgence. It's not something that's wrong, it's not even showy, but it's this subtle little high-point of his afternoon.
They're so in love.
"So you said."
"He even tried to call his father to show off."
Dana's face softened, and the straight line of her shoulders relaxed. "Okay, fine, he'll do it right."
Even Dana knows the importance of Danny's Dad. *snerk* I don't know if she *should*, I don't know if Dan or Casey would have told her any painful details, but in this story, she apparently does. That amuses me for no real reason.
"He won't embarrass you, Dana."
"I know," Dana admitted ruefully, "but I still have to--" The phone on her desk rang, and Dana was up and grabbing at it before Casey had a chance to react.
"Dana Whitaker," she said, holding the receiver tightly. "Dan, what-- It was rescheduled, I told you-- Okay. Okay. You'll be back here by four-thirty, right? Yeah. Five at the latest. Bye."
Casey grinned. Dan's call couldn't have come at a better time. "So?"
"So," Dana said slowly, watching the receiver sitting back in its cradle. "Dan called to apologize. He said he'd just remembered that the interview was rescheduled, so he called Tiger Woods' people to say he was stuck in traffic and would be there by three. Apparently, they didn't mind."
"I--"
"Don't say it." Dana pressed against her closed eyelids. "Don't say I told you so."
Poor Dana. *pets her and sneaks a grope* Putting up with a smug 'I told you so' from Casey is a bit too much to ask.
"I didn't say a thing," Casey said as he edged out of her office.
***
Casey woke up alone in a double bed. The strange thing was that he woke up alone in Dan's double bed. He rubbed at his eyes, and then reached across. The sheet was cold.
That was enough to make Casey get out of bed, pull a robe on and go into the living room. He'd expected Dan to be in the kitchen -- getting a cold drink or making coffee -- but Dan was standing in front of the window, staring out at the choppy skyline as the sky faded to violet. A familiar CD played softly on the stereo.
Guess which CD. Go ahead, guess.
Casey wasn't surprised. Dan's father had returned his call that night, and Dan had been weirdly untouchable ever since. Casey could reach out and hold him -- and he had when they'd crawled into bed -- but he couldn't reach the bruises behind Dan's eyes. It didn't stop him from trying, though.
I like the untouchable idea, the way that there can be distance that's far more than simply physical.
And it certainly didn't stop him from walking up behind Dan, resting his chin on Dan's shoulder, and wrapping his arms around Dan's chest. "Couldn't sleep?"
Dan shrugged and rested his hands on Casey's forearms, sneaking cold fingers under the sleeves of the robe. They stood there quietly, watching the sky lighten, and then Dan mumbled something Casey couldn't hear. "What?"
"I'll make you a deal," Dan said softly.
"What kind of a deal?"
"The kind of deal where if you want out, you say so now." Dan continued in a polyester voice, smooth and fake. "If you want an easy exit, this is it. Just say so, and you can walk away: no muss, no fuss. No big scenes. No searching questions. If you want out, just-- Say the word, and you leave, and we won't talk about this again."
This is another point of literal lyrics. (It sounds like a game. Play it at home!) The song for this section is "Easy Exit Station" and it's a soft not-break-up song that I used to associate with Clark/Lex. The full lyrics are:
"How'd you get to be so beautiful,
How'd you get to be so?
When all my weakness is shining through,
How'd you get to be so?
Because you're still mine, and I'm still yours,
There's no-one left to fall behind.
When one's illusion is another's truth,
How'd it get to be so?
Sometimes I find it hard to say what I want to say,
How'd it get to be so?
Because you're still mine, and I'm still yours,
There's no-one left to fall behind.
So the only explanation,
It's an easy situation, don't you know? (You know.)
It's a risky conversation,
It's an easy exit station, don't you know? (You know.)
Because you're still mine, and I'm still yours,
There's no-one left to fall behind."
Simple, soft, pretty melody with gentle guitar strummings and the type of careful wording that isn't a break-up so much as an epiphany, a moment of realising this is it, a moment of ultimatums.
And that's what this scene is: it's the moment of promise, the moment of confirming their commitment to making this work. (Yes, I really am this much of a sap. I blame it on Casey/Dan. They're my OTP of Hope, how can I resist giving them a happy ending?)
Casey felt his arms tighten around Dan's ribcage. He swallowed, and his voice wasn't smooth or charming; it was rough and a little scared. "It wouldn't make any difference."
"What?" Dan turned his head quickly, glancing over his shoulder. He looked young and fragile, but above all, he suddenly looked touchable.
"Leaving now wouldn't change anything." Casey lifted a hand and traced the warm shadows beneath Dan's jaw. He felt Dan's throat move as he breathed, as he swallowed. "I'd still be yours. And I'd still think of you as mine. This isn't something I could walk away from."
Literal lyrics, but it might be the last one.
Dan turned his head away, but he didn't step out of Casey's embrace. "Maybe it should be."
"Danny?" Casey asked, keeping one hand against Dan's neck, feeling the strong pulse with his fingertips.
"Yeah?"
"I'm not going anywhere."
The sky shifted to pink and orange as the first rays of treacle-colored sunlight started to hit the buildings in front of them, creeping across the highest roofs. The stereo switched over to a new song and Dan started to sway to the slow rhythm. Casey settled his hands on Dan's hips and moved with Dan, letting the tension ease out of his spine.
Another moment of physical descriptions, but there's part of me that loves it, loves the cliche of sunrises signifying new beginnings, of colors shifting and merging like the meaning of gestures changes according to the context. Also, they deserve a nice view.
They stayed there, not quite dancing, while the sky became blue. Then Dan pulled Casey's arms away from him and turned around. He buried his face in Casey's shoulder and hugged Casey hard.
Casey squeezed him back. "We should go to bed."
Dan gave a small nod and pulled back a moment before Casey was ready to let go. "It's been one of those days, you know?"
"I know," Casey said, pressing a kiss to Dan's lips. Dan kissed him back, all soft pliancy, and Casey felt like he'd won, like he'd passed some unknown test.
And, yes, once again, back to comfort and security. Back to the idea of being able to let down your defenses, to be raw and court the pain of rejection, and still be safe, known, accepted by someone else.
Dan stepped away and walked back towards the bedroom. He paused in the doorway, and looked over his shoulder. "You coming?"
Casey nodded and followed. Behind them, the sounds of a strumming guitar drifted from the stereo.
The end. I guess I should also say that I started this for Celli's birthday, and didn't get around to finishing it until her birthday the *following* year. It's a story that had a lot of time to soak inside my brain.
And, y'know, if there's any unresolved questions, or anything you wanted to ask about this story that I didn't mention in the commentary (first one I've done, so it could be self-absorbed blathering and not actually interesting), comment and I'll try to answer.
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no subject
Date: 2005-12-03 09:50 pm (UTC)Long time lurker here - I just wanted to let you know how much I've enjoyed your Sports Night fics. I especially loved 'Not Homophobic' and 'Like Sailing and Home Runs' - it was really nice (and rare!) to read such long SN stories. I like the way there's so much going on in both of those stories - that in 'Like Sailing...' Dan is dealing with his feelings towards Sam, his dad and Casey - and that while he and his dad do get past that big initial block there's still a long way to go. I'm a big fan of your Abby!
In 'Not Homophobic' I love love love how you give the sense of the whole SN team (one of my favourite bits is when Dana and Natalie are on the phone and Natalie hangs up first). I love how you show the whole Dana/Casey friendship (I adore Dana, and I love how important she is to Casey in this).
And of course I love the Dan and Casey bits...um, I think the short and probably more coherent version of this feedback is 'Your stories make me happy' (even the one where Casey just *can't* be with Dan and then adult-Charlie complicates everything even more. Though then I have to read 'Handsome/Attractive to comfort me...though that's not necessarily a bad thing!)
Maybe 'Your stories make me happy' would have been the more sensible option.
Anyway, thanks for the great stories (and I friended you, is that ok?)
Liz
no subject
Date: 2005-12-05 01:54 pm (UTC)I just wanted to let you know how much I've enjoyed your Sports Night fics. I especially loved 'Not Homophobic' and 'Like Sailing and Home Runs' - it was really nice (and rare!) to read such long SN stories. I like the way there's so much going on in both of those stories - that in 'Like Sailing...' Dan is dealing with his feelings towards Sam, his dad and Casey - and that while he and his dad do get past that big initial block there's still a long way to go.
Oddly enough, both stories were written with the same basic idea, deep down, to write a story where the boys dealt with their issues before the relationship -- such as it was -- really took off. In "Not Homophobic", it's Casey's attitudes, Casey's self-identity and the way that he defines himself by others' reactions to him (his coworkers, mainly, but also Dan and Charlie). In "Like Sailing..." it's Danny's fears of who he is, Danny's guilt and belief that he's responsible, and also, oddly enough, the way he defines himself in relation to Casey and his father, the way that he grounds his personality and self-worth in their reactions, expectations and beliefs about him.
I guess it's a lot to work through within a story, which is why so much happens -- even though, objectively, very little action actually occurs -- and also why I'm so proud of both of them.
I'm a big fan of your Abby!
Throughout that story, I had fears that Abby was too unprofessional or too professional, that she was pushing to hard or not pushing enough, so I'm always utterly thrilled to hear that she worked for other people. Abby in canon is remarkably cool: she handles Danny well, even when he's being difficult. For that, I have to admire her.
In 'Not Homophobic' I love love love how you give the sense of the whole SN team (one of my favourite bits is when Dana and Natalie are on the phone and Natalie hangs up first). I love how you show the whole Dana/Casey friendship (I adore Dana, and I love how important she is to Casey in this).
Oh, I love Dana. I *love* Dana. And when I say that, I say that sincerely and earnestly, and mean that if she were a real person (as opposed to a fictional character), I'd want to marry her.
I also love Dana/Casey as friends. As a couple, I think they'd doom each other, they'd make each other miserable. But as friends, there is a beautiful level of support and acceptance of one another.
...um, I think the short and probably more coherent version of this feedback is 'Your stories make me happy' (even the one where Casey just *can't* be with Dan and then adult-Charlie complicates everything even more. Though then I have to read 'Handsome/Attractive to comfort me...though that's not necessarily a bad thing!)
*laughs* So, there you go. You managed to mention four of the stories I'm most proud of. "Protect me from what I want" which I love because I got to write the wrong-porn, the couples that would never, never work and were totally wrong for each otehr and the characters *knew* it, knew they were acting badly, knew there wasn't a future there, and knew that they'd experience this, move on, grow and be happy in the future (which they would be, although nobody else seems to believe me when I say that *g*).
"Handsome/Attractive" I love for the format, for the way that in many, many ways, it was laying the foundations for "Not Homophobic". The pattern of character interaction, of plots building through scenes that didn't link directly (in a plot-way, I mean), of a rather meandering Casey-POV that *worked* for me.
Maybe 'Your stories make me happy' would have been the more sensible option.
No, because this feedback made my night. Thank you.
Anyway, thanks for the great stories (and I friended you, is that ok?)
You're welcome. I've gotten to the stage where I can't afford more time to read new LJs, but since the majority of this LJ's friendslocked, I tend to automatically friend-back. In other words, I'm thrilled that you're reading me and now you'll be able to read all the spam that comes across my LJ too (and if it gets too much, just mention, and i can take you off my friends list, so only the fic posts show up).