SN Wip: Three Days
Oct. 9th, 2006 07:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
out_thereContinued from here...
***
Casey was sitting in the conference room, sorting through his wallet. The table was littered with scrunched up white and yellow receipts.
"You know how there are some times when, in the course of being your best friend, I stand steadfast and defend you in the face of baseless criticism and insults," Dan said, letting the glass door swoosh closed behind him, "and there are other times when being a good friend means bursting your ego bubble and giving you a hard time when you're doing the wrong thing?"
"Uh-huh," Casey said, frowning at a business card in his hand. "Do you remember anyone called Kathy?"
"Not off the top of my head."
"I have her number," Casey said, holding up the card and the red-inked phone digits scrawled on the back. "I don't remember getting her number. Do you think I could call her up and ask?"
"No, I don't." Dan took the card from Casey's hands and ignored Casey's surprised glare. "But we were talking about you being an idiot."
"No, we weren't."
"Yes," Dan corrected, "we were."
"I'm pretty sure I would have remembered if that was the topic of conversation. Why would that be the topic of conversation?"
"Because you are."
"Because I'm what?"
"An idiot," Dan said slowly.
Holding his hands up, Casey signalled for a time out. "This conversation is making no sense. Like, none. I have no idea what we're talking about."
Pulling out a chair, Dan sat beside Casey. He could have sat at the head of the table -- it was only the two of them there -- but no one sat in Isaac's chair. "We're talking about Dana being right, you being an idiot, and the list being out."
"It gets leaked tomorrow." Casey's confused frown smoothed out, disappointment tightening the corners of his mouth.
"Natalie knows a guy."
"It got leaked today?" Casey asked, flattening his hands on the desk. Dan nodded. "Why don't they just publish the damn thing and be done with it? It's bad enough that one issue of Sports Illustrated gets dragged down by this air of mean-spirited competition and rivalry, but they should be able to contain it to a publishing date. They shouldn't be able to spread the pointless pettiness of this list two days early."
"Gee, competition. In the world of sports," Dan deadpanned. "I'm dumbfounded. You should write a complaint. Or better yet, you should stop being an idiot and admit that the list is important to you."
"It's not important to me."
"You care about it, Casey."
Casey set his jaw. "I don't care about it."
"You care about whether or not you're on it. You care about where you're on it, if you're on it," Dan said, but Casey shook his head. "You care about it, Casey. Just admit it."
"I don't care about it." If Casey had been the type of guy to indulge in dramatic gestures, this was the moment to stand up and exit the conference room in a huff. So that was precisely what Casey did.
Dan followed him to their office and closed the door behind him. Then he crossed his arms and leaned on it. "You get that I'm not going have a meltdown just because you care about a list? A list, I might add, that is prepared by our peers and acknowledges our hard work and talent."
"I don't."
"You don't get that?"
"I don't care. Danny, I don't care. I am not losing sleep at night over this. I don't care if I'm on the list. I don't care if I'm not. Personally, I'd prefer the list didn't exist at all." Casey paused, pulling his jumper on. "But since I don't have the power to make that happen, I'm happy to settle for ignoring it."
Casey took a few steps towards the door, but Dan didn't move. "So you're saying… you don't care?"
"I don't even care about whatever lame reason Dana had for dragging you into this," Casey said, taking one step closer and then stopping when Dan, and Dan's crossed arms, remained statue-still. "And I still don't believe all her guff about protecting the delicate gears of the Sports Night machine. Now can I go home?"
Dan grinned. "You haven't asked where you were on the list."
"I don't care. Danny, when I say I don't care, I honestly mean--"
"That you care, a lot, but you don't want to admit it," Dan finished. "Which is fine. I appreciate the attempt to be considerate of my feelings, but the consideration is not needed, and this constant denial of something that you really want is getting annoying. So suck it up and be honest."
Casey huffed and then looked out at the skyline. The silent treatment. Fun.
Clearly, Dan needed to tread a little more carefully. Possibly, he should try using logic. "You've spent the last week telling me not to jinx it. Why would you worry about jinxing something you don't care about?"
"Danny, I've had this argument with Lisa too many times. I don't want to have it with you. Isn't it enough that I say that I don't care and I act like I don't care? Isn't that enough?"
"Wait," Dan said, and this time it was him using the time out signal. "When did this become about Lisa?"
"About Lisa, about Charlie, and I don't want it to be about you because I'm not that guy."
Perhaps, to Casey, that made sense but it left Dan confused. "Not what guy?"
"The guy who does that," Casey said pleadingly. "The guy who prioritises his job and his career and his ego over the people he loves. I'm not that guy."
"No, you're not. But you don't have to fake indifference to prove it. You're seventy-eight on the list. It's a big deal. You should be thrilled about it."
Casey didn't look thrilled. He looked wary and tired, like a man who'd returned from the front lines to find his homeland invaded. "Okay."
"Hell, I'm seventy-nine on the list, and I'm planning on throwing a party."
This time, Casey looked thrilled. "Seventy-nine? That's fantastic."
"Tell me about it," Dan said, spreading his arms wide. "We are seventy-eight and seventy-nine, my friend. I mean, there are still seventy-seven people more influential than us, but out of nearly two hundred million Americans, we made the top hundred. That's a big achievement."
Casey snorted. "But not all of those Americans are interested in sports, are they, Danny? Or involved in sports in any professional manner."
"Dude, quit raining on my parade or I won't invite you to my party."
"You're really having a party?"
"Sure. It'll be known as the 'Dan Rydell is a huge honking success!' party. There'll be a banner and everything." Dan slid his hands through the air, picturing the banner hung across their office window. It would probably say something like 'Dan and Casey, welcome to the 78th percentile' but as long as it was something glitzy and celebratory, it could just be their names for all he cared. Then he froze. "Wait-- love?"
Casey blinked. "As far as nicknames go, I don't think that one's going to catch on. And as a term of endearment, it's probably best kept to people you've actually slept with."
"No, I mean, people you love?"
"I'd ask to buy a vowel, Danny," Casey said, and for a moment, they shared the same slightly confused expression, "but what I really need is some context."
"You said, and I quote 'blah blah blah, prioritising ego, blah, blah, blah, people you love'."
"Exact quote, huh?"
Dan clicked his fingers in front of Casey's face. Whenever Natalie did that to him, it was incredibly annoying, but he felt justified doing it now. "You used the term 'people you love' when referring to me. You see the significance here?"
Casey laughed at the ridiculous insinuation. "You're my best friend, Danny."
Anyone walking by, anyone watching Casey on TV, would have been fooled. But Dan had known the man for ten years, had seen him day after day, had seen him at his best and at his worst; Dan could hear the panic there. "Please," Dan said with the most sarcasm he could manage, "give me some credit. We've just gone through this whole lying about stuff you care about and my freakish ability to see through your fake indifference. What makes you think you'll be convincing this time?"
"I've convinced you for the last three and half years--" Casey stopped talking. He possibly stopped breathing, too, as his face went redder and redder. After a long moment of silence, he said very quietly, "Any chance we can just ignore that?"
It took Dan a moment to find his voice. "Not a chance."
"Figures." Casey took a deep breath and seemed to suddenly realise that they'd had the whole conversation while standing barely a foot from each other. He took a jerky step back.
(...to be cntinued...)
***
Casey was sitting in the conference room, sorting through his wallet. The table was littered with scrunched up white and yellow receipts.
"You know how there are some times when, in the course of being your best friend, I stand steadfast and defend you in the face of baseless criticism and insults," Dan said, letting the glass door swoosh closed behind him, "and there are other times when being a good friend means bursting your ego bubble and giving you a hard time when you're doing the wrong thing?"
"Uh-huh," Casey said, frowning at a business card in his hand. "Do you remember anyone called Kathy?"
"Not off the top of my head."
"I have her number," Casey said, holding up the card and the red-inked phone digits scrawled on the back. "I don't remember getting her number. Do you think I could call her up and ask?"
"No, I don't." Dan took the card from Casey's hands and ignored Casey's surprised glare. "But we were talking about you being an idiot."
"No, we weren't."
"Yes," Dan corrected, "we were."
"I'm pretty sure I would have remembered if that was the topic of conversation. Why would that be the topic of conversation?"
"Because you are."
"Because I'm what?"
"An idiot," Dan said slowly.
Holding his hands up, Casey signalled for a time out. "This conversation is making no sense. Like, none. I have no idea what we're talking about."
Pulling out a chair, Dan sat beside Casey. He could have sat at the head of the table -- it was only the two of them there -- but no one sat in Isaac's chair. "We're talking about Dana being right, you being an idiot, and the list being out."
"It gets leaked tomorrow." Casey's confused frown smoothed out, disappointment tightening the corners of his mouth.
"Natalie knows a guy."
"It got leaked today?" Casey asked, flattening his hands on the desk. Dan nodded. "Why don't they just publish the damn thing and be done with it? It's bad enough that one issue of Sports Illustrated gets dragged down by this air of mean-spirited competition and rivalry, but they should be able to contain it to a publishing date. They shouldn't be able to spread the pointless pettiness of this list two days early."
"Gee, competition. In the world of sports," Dan deadpanned. "I'm dumbfounded. You should write a complaint. Or better yet, you should stop being an idiot and admit that the list is important to you."
"It's not important to me."
"You care about it, Casey."
Casey set his jaw. "I don't care about it."
"You care about whether or not you're on it. You care about where you're on it, if you're on it," Dan said, but Casey shook his head. "You care about it, Casey. Just admit it."
"I don't care about it." If Casey had been the type of guy to indulge in dramatic gestures, this was the moment to stand up and exit the conference room in a huff. So that was precisely what Casey did.
Dan followed him to their office and closed the door behind him. Then he crossed his arms and leaned on it. "You get that I'm not going have a meltdown just because you care about a list? A list, I might add, that is prepared by our peers and acknowledges our hard work and talent."
"I don't."
"You don't get that?"
"I don't care. Danny, I don't care. I am not losing sleep at night over this. I don't care if I'm on the list. I don't care if I'm not. Personally, I'd prefer the list didn't exist at all." Casey paused, pulling his jumper on. "But since I don't have the power to make that happen, I'm happy to settle for ignoring it."
Casey took a few steps towards the door, but Dan didn't move. "So you're saying… you don't care?"
"I don't even care about whatever lame reason Dana had for dragging you into this," Casey said, taking one step closer and then stopping when Dan, and Dan's crossed arms, remained statue-still. "And I still don't believe all her guff about protecting the delicate gears of the Sports Night machine. Now can I go home?"
Dan grinned. "You haven't asked where you were on the list."
"I don't care. Danny, when I say I don't care, I honestly mean--"
"That you care, a lot, but you don't want to admit it," Dan finished. "Which is fine. I appreciate the attempt to be considerate of my feelings, but the consideration is not needed, and this constant denial of something that you really want is getting annoying. So suck it up and be honest."
Casey huffed and then looked out at the skyline. The silent treatment. Fun.
Clearly, Dan needed to tread a little more carefully. Possibly, he should try using logic. "You've spent the last week telling me not to jinx it. Why would you worry about jinxing something you don't care about?"
"Danny, I've had this argument with Lisa too many times. I don't want to have it with you. Isn't it enough that I say that I don't care and I act like I don't care? Isn't that enough?"
"Wait," Dan said, and this time it was him using the time out signal. "When did this become about Lisa?"
"About Lisa, about Charlie, and I don't want it to be about you because I'm not that guy."
Perhaps, to Casey, that made sense but it left Dan confused. "Not what guy?"
"The guy who does that," Casey said pleadingly. "The guy who prioritises his job and his career and his ego over the people he loves. I'm not that guy."
"No, you're not. But you don't have to fake indifference to prove it. You're seventy-eight on the list. It's a big deal. You should be thrilled about it."
Casey didn't look thrilled. He looked wary and tired, like a man who'd returned from the front lines to find his homeland invaded. "Okay."
"Hell, I'm seventy-nine on the list, and I'm planning on throwing a party."
This time, Casey looked thrilled. "Seventy-nine? That's fantastic."
"Tell me about it," Dan said, spreading his arms wide. "We are seventy-eight and seventy-nine, my friend. I mean, there are still seventy-seven people more influential than us, but out of nearly two hundred million Americans, we made the top hundred. That's a big achievement."
Casey snorted. "But not all of those Americans are interested in sports, are they, Danny? Or involved in sports in any professional manner."
"Dude, quit raining on my parade or I won't invite you to my party."
"You're really having a party?"
"Sure. It'll be known as the 'Dan Rydell is a huge honking success!' party. There'll be a banner and everything." Dan slid his hands through the air, picturing the banner hung across their office window. It would probably say something like 'Dan and Casey, welcome to the 78th percentile' but as long as it was something glitzy and celebratory, it could just be their names for all he cared. Then he froze. "Wait-- love?"
Casey blinked. "As far as nicknames go, I don't think that one's going to catch on. And as a term of endearment, it's probably best kept to people you've actually slept with."
"No, I mean, people you love?"
"I'd ask to buy a vowel, Danny," Casey said, and for a moment, they shared the same slightly confused expression, "but what I really need is some context."
"You said, and I quote 'blah blah blah, prioritising ego, blah, blah, blah, people you love'."
"Exact quote, huh?"
Dan clicked his fingers in front of Casey's face. Whenever Natalie did that to him, it was incredibly annoying, but he felt justified doing it now. "You used the term 'people you love' when referring to me. You see the significance here?"
Casey laughed at the ridiculous insinuation. "You're my best friend, Danny."
Anyone walking by, anyone watching Casey on TV, would have been fooled. But Dan had known the man for ten years, had seen him day after day, had seen him at his best and at his worst; Dan could hear the panic there. "Please," Dan said with the most sarcasm he could manage, "give me some credit. We've just gone through this whole lying about stuff you care about and my freakish ability to see through your fake indifference. What makes you think you'll be convincing this time?"
"I've convinced you for the last three and half years--" Casey stopped talking. He possibly stopped breathing, too, as his face went redder and redder. After a long moment of silence, he said very quietly, "Any chance we can just ignore that?"
It took Dan a moment to find his voice. "Not a chance."
"Figures." Casey took a deep breath and seemed to suddenly realise that they'd had the whole conversation while standing barely a foot from each other. He took a jerky step back.
(...to be cntinued...)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-10-09 02:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-11 08:16 am (UTC)your voices are always so spot-on, i almost don't feel like i'm reading, because i can hear them so clearly.
Oh, that's fantastic to hear. The dialogue is such a strong part of the boys -- of the fandom -- that being able to hear them means a lot.
"You said, and I quote 'blah blah blah, prioritising ego, blah, blah, blah, people you love'"
That is currently my favourite line. Danny would totally say it.
no subject
Date: 2006-10-09 03:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-11 08:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-09 04:46 pm (UTC)"Dan and Casey, welcome to the 78th percentile"
Hee! Best. Banner. Evah.
no subject
Date: 2006-10-11 08:04 am (UTC)Well, I thought it was better to post the little bit that I had than to wait for a week or more until I finally got it finished. These days, if I do the latter, it never, ever gets finished.
Hee! Best. Banner. Evah.
I'm sure Jeremy would appreciate it too.