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scripted_sra) wrote2010-06-05 12:25 pm
scripted_sra) wrote2010-06-05 12:25 pm
Sports Night | Five Times Dan Rydell Lied to Casey McCall | PG | Dan/Casey; Dana/Casey
Title: Five Times Dan Rydell Lied to Casey McCall (and Never Told Him)
Fandom: Sports Night
Rating: PG
Pairing: Dan/Casey; Casey/Dana
Summary: Five times Dan lied to Casey.
Word Count: 1,525
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use.
A/N: I asked for Five Times prompts a little while ago; this one was from Geena. Thank you for the beta, Abigail.
1. Not necessarily.
They're both fooling around instead of actually writing—like they should be—when Dana walks in and catches them. She calls them on it, then leaves, and Dan notices the look Casey gives her after she walks away.
"Tell me you didn't just look at Dana the way I think you just looked at Dana."
"Okay," he says agreeably. "I didn't just look at Dana the way you think I just looked at Dana."
"Yes you did." Dan groans, dropping his head into his hands before looking back at Casey. "There was a quality."
"My look had a quality?"
"It did." Dan sighs. "Natalie's going to be insufferable."
"My look not only had a quality, but it had a quality that's going to make Natalie insufferable?" Casey asks, shaking his head. "I think the heat's getting to you, Dan."
"We work in an air-conditioned building, Casey."
Casey hmms; he looks at his computer and types something. Then he glances back up. "Did my look really have a quality?"
"Oh yes. There was a definite quality."
He looks like he's considering it. Dan hates himself for letting that get to him. "It would be a bad idea," Casey says slowly, almost like he's stretching out the words as if they're play-doh, and he can mold them any way he wishes, "for Dana and I to go down that road again, wouldn't it?"
Yes, Dan thinks without hesitation. "Not necessarily," he says, just as quickly, because he can read that look in Casey's eyes easily. He knows what Casey wants to hear. "As long as there aren't any dating plans."
Casey briefly winces at the memory, but he eventually smiles. Dan tries not to frown.
2. I have a date tomorrow night, actually.
"You know what's weird?" Casey says suddenly, once they hit a commercial. Dan could afford a TiVo or DVR if he wanted to invest in it, but he doesn't and never has. When it comes down to it, he actually kind of likes commercials; he thinks they're all a part of the watching-a-game-on-television experience, and besides, he's always appreciated the time they afford him to get a beer, or digest something that just happened, or even talk to the person he might happen to be watching the game with. Point in fact, Casey seems to be taking advantage of the last option today—which is, he admits, somewhat unusual for Casey.
"That they took out Higgins and sent in Ashland?" Dan says. "Since he can't pitch his way out of a paper bag and all."
"No, not—wait, are we watching the same game? Higgins completely earned that, after the last inning," Casey says, then shakes his head. "But anyway, not that. It's weird that I haven't heard you mention any dates you've been on in awhile."
Dan pauses in bringing his beer to his lips, peering over at Casey. "What?"
"Well," Casey says, shrugging, "you always used to mention them. But there's been nothing in, what? At least a month."
Six weeks, actually, Dan could tell him. Ever since Casey asked about dating Dana again. Instead, he replies, "It was a dry spell." He shrugs. "I have a date tomorrow night, actually."
Casey grins, thumping him on the back. "That's my Danny," he says. "You'll have to tell me about it on Monday."
"Oh, I will," Dan says. He forces a smile. "Don't I always?"
The game resumes then, and Dan seriously contemplates the merits of DVR.
3. I'm fine, Case.
Dan actually sees them kiss for the first time—well, all right, it's technically not the first time. But it's the first time since the mess with the dating plan, since everything didn't happen, and considering the way he feels like someone just knocked the wind out of him, it might as well be the first time. When Casey walks out of the conference room right afterward, a ridiculous grin on his face, Dan swallows every negative thought and feeling he has and grins just as widely. "Congratulations, Casey."
Casey grins. "Thanks, Dan," he says, then glances back behind him, where Dana is conversing animatedly with Natalie. Casey lowers his voice. "I feel really good about this. A lot better than last time."
Dan can't quite manage a suitable response to that, so he nods instead. Either he's not doing a very good job of looking thrilled, or Casey has gotten more perceptive lately—his grin wanes, and he tenses just a little. "Something wrong, Dan?" he asks. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Case," he says, throwing every ounce of casual good cheer he can into that small sentence. It seems to work, because Casey studies him for a minute and then visibly relaxes, grin returning to his face full throttle. "I think that's great. I'm sure it's going to work out differently this time."
Casey nods absently, as Dana is walking up to them. "You ready to go?" she asks.
"Absolutely." Casey grins somehow impossibly wider, and Dana smiles a smile that's almost too bashful for a woman as accomplished as she is. They're both glowing.
Dan shoves his hands into his pockets, looking down at the ground as they walk away. Suddenly, he finds that he misses the stupid dating plan.
4. I'm sorry, Casey.
It's late—really late, even by Dan's New York City standards—when someone's knocking on his door. He groans as he stumbles out of bed and makes his way out to answer, squinting at the moonlight flooding through his living room window as he opens the door. "Casey?" he says, a little lost, and then a thought occurs to him. "How'd you get up here?"
"Doorman recognized me," he replies, not waiting for an invitation before walking inside, speeding by Dan and heading straight for his liquor cabinet.
Right. Dan should have guessed that. He probably would have if it weren't—according to the clock on his microwave—three-forty-nine in the morning. "What's wrong?" he asks as he watches Casey pour himself a staggering amount of scotch.
Casey doesn't answer right away, downing the entire glass he just poured in one gulp. "It's over," he says at last, and begins pouring himself another. "For good, this time."
"It's—" Dan starts, then stops when it hits him like a cab driver going full speed: Dana. Casey gives him an odd look then, and for a brief, terrifying moment, he's worried that his sleep-deprived state is giving his emotions away. But then Casey sighs and sinks down onto his couch, and Dan rubs at his eyes as he sits down in his armchair.
"I'm sorry, Casey," he says, sounding so sincere to his own ears that he almost believes that he means it. Almost. Casey nods, barely even looking at him, so he adds, "Feel free to drink all of my booze, if you want." That, at least, coaxes a ghost of a smile from him.
"I think I may take you up on that," he says. Dan just nods, trying not to feel too guilty.
5. I don't have a clue.
Casey presses him against the wall of the elevator, and it turns out that kissing him is both everything and nothing like Dan always thought it might be: it's strange and passionate and breathtaking and making him far too desperate. Dan doesn't like to think of himself as desperate, and he never thought he would be, not with Casey.
When they finally break apart, Casey's lips are swollen and he's breathing heavily, and he keeps their bodies pressed together, even though their faces no longer are. "You thought I'd freak out?" he says at last, and Dan can't help it: he laughs.
"I did," he says. "Which you kind of did, if you think about it, though your tackling in me in an elevator wasn't exactly how I'd imagined said freak out would go down. I figured it'd be a lot more painful."
"If I'd known you were into that..." Casey starts, and Dan rolls his eyes.
"Very funny, he-who-has-me-pressed-up-against-an-elevator-wall."
"I see you've discovered my nickname."
Dan smiles briefly, then sobers. "Casey," he says. "We can't just—"
"I'm not stupid, Dan," Casey says brusquely. "I wouldn't have done what I did if I didn't intend to follow it through." He looks Dan in the eyes. "All the way through."
Dan studies his expression for a minute. "All right," he says. "But we still need to talk."
"I know," Casey says. "But do we have to talk right this second?"
"No," he says, smirking, "I guess not."
Casey grins. "Have any ideas about what we could do instead?"
Dan brings a hand up to the back of Casey's head, pulling him closer. "I don't have a clue," he lies, and he smiles.
Fandom: Sports Night
Rating: PG
Pairing: Dan/Casey; Casey/Dana
Summary: Five times Dan lied to Casey.
Word Count: 1,525
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use.
A/N: I asked for Five Times prompts a little while ago; this one was from Geena. Thank you for the beta, Abigail.
They're both fooling around instead of actually writing—like they should be—when Dana walks in and catches them. She calls them on it, then leaves, and Dan notices the look Casey gives her after she walks away.
"Tell me you didn't just look at Dana the way I think you just looked at Dana."
"Okay," he says agreeably. "I didn't just look at Dana the way you think I just looked at Dana."
"Yes you did." Dan groans, dropping his head into his hands before looking back at Casey. "There was a quality."
"My look had a quality?"
"It did." Dan sighs. "Natalie's going to be insufferable."
"My look not only had a quality, but it had a quality that's going to make Natalie insufferable?" Casey asks, shaking his head. "I think the heat's getting to you, Dan."
"We work in an air-conditioned building, Casey."
Casey hmms; he looks at his computer and types something. Then he glances back up. "Did my look really have a quality?"
"Oh yes. There was a definite quality."
He looks like he's considering it. Dan hates himself for letting that get to him. "It would be a bad idea," Casey says slowly, almost like he's stretching out the words as if they're play-doh, and he can mold them any way he wishes, "for Dana and I to go down that road again, wouldn't it?"
Yes, Dan thinks without hesitation. "Not necessarily," he says, just as quickly, because he can read that look in Casey's eyes easily. He knows what Casey wants to hear. "As long as there aren't any dating plans."
Casey briefly winces at the memory, but he eventually smiles. Dan tries not to frown.
"You know what's weird?" Casey says suddenly, once they hit a commercial. Dan could afford a TiVo or DVR if he wanted to invest in it, but he doesn't and never has. When it comes down to it, he actually kind of likes commercials; he thinks they're all a part of the watching-a-game-on-television experience, and besides, he's always appreciated the time they afford him to get a beer, or digest something that just happened, or even talk to the person he might happen to be watching the game with. Point in fact, Casey seems to be taking advantage of the last option today—which is, he admits, somewhat unusual for Casey.
"That they took out Higgins and sent in Ashland?" Dan says. "Since he can't pitch his way out of a paper bag and all."
"No, not—wait, are we watching the same game? Higgins completely earned that, after the last inning," Casey says, then shakes his head. "But anyway, not that. It's weird that I haven't heard you mention any dates you've been on in awhile."
Dan pauses in bringing his beer to his lips, peering over at Casey. "What?"
"Well," Casey says, shrugging, "you always used to mention them. But there's been nothing in, what? At least a month."
Six weeks, actually, Dan could tell him. Ever since Casey asked about dating Dana again. Instead, he replies, "It was a dry spell." He shrugs. "I have a date tomorrow night, actually."
Casey grins, thumping him on the back. "That's my Danny," he says. "You'll have to tell me about it on Monday."
"Oh, I will," Dan says. He forces a smile. "Don't I always?"
The game resumes then, and Dan seriously contemplates the merits of DVR.
Dan actually sees them kiss for the first time—well, all right, it's technically not the first time. But it's the first time since the mess with the dating plan, since everything didn't happen, and considering the way he feels like someone just knocked the wind out of him, it might as well be the first time. When Casey walks out of the conference room right afterward, a ridiculous grin on his face, Dan swallows every negative thought and feeling he has and grins just as widely. "Congratulations, Casey."
Casey grins. "Thanks, Dan," he says, then glances back behind him, where Dana is conversing animatedly with Natalie. Casey lowers his voice. "I feel really good about this. A lot better than last time."
Dan can't quite manage a suitable response to that, so he nods instead. Either he's not doing a very good job of looking thrilled, or Casey has gotten more perceptive lately—his grin wanes, and he tenses just a little. "Something wrong, Dan?" he asks. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Case," he says, throwing every ounce of casual good cheer he can into that small sentence. It seems to work, because Casey studies him for a minute and then visibly relaxes, grin returning to his face full throttle. "I think that's great. I'm sure it's going to work out differently this time."
Casey nods absently, as Dana is walking up to them. "You ready to go?" she asks.
"Absolutely." Casey grins somehow impossibly wider, and Dana smiles a smile that's almost too bashful for a woman as accomplished as she is. They're both glowing.
Dan shoves his hands into his pockets, looking down at the ground as they walk away. Suddenly, he finds that he misses the stupid dating plan.
It's late—really late, even by Dan's New York City standards—when someone's knocking on his door. He groans as he stumbles out of bed and makes his way out to answer, squinting at the moonlight flooding through his living room window as he opens the door. "Casey?" he says, a little lost, and then a thought occurs to him. "How'd you get up here?"
"Doorman recognized me," he replies, not waiting for an invitation before walking inside, speeding by Dan and heading straight for his liquor cabinet.
Right. Dan should have guessed that. He probably would have if it weren't—according to the clock on his microwave—three-forty-nine in the morning. "What's wrong?" he asks as he watches Casey pour himself a staggering amount of scotch.
Casey doesn't answer right away, downing the entire glass he just poured in one gulp. "It's over," he says at last, and begins pouring himself another. "For good, this time."
"It's—" Dan starts, then stops when it hits him like a cab driver going full speed: Dana. Casey gives him an odd look then, and for a brief, terrifying moment, he's worried that his sleep-deprived state is giving his emotions away. But then Casey sighs and sinks down onto his couch, and Dan rubs at his eyes as he sits down in his armchair.
"I'm sorry, Casey," he says, sounding so sincere to his own ears that he almost believes that he means it. Almost. Casey nods, barely even looking at him, so he adds, "Feel free to drink all of my booze, if you want." That, at least, coaxes a ghost of a smile from him.
"I think I may take you up on that," he says. Dan just nods, trying not to feel too guilty.
Casey presses him against the wall of the elevator, and it turns out that kissing him is both everything and nothing like Dan always thought it might be: it's strange and passionate and breathtaking and making him far too desperate. Dan doesn't like to think of himself as desperate, and he never thought he would be, not with Casey.
When they finally break apart, Casey's lips are swollen and he's breathing heavily, and he keeps their bodies pressed together, even though their faces no longer are. "You thought I'd freak out?" he says at last, and Dan can't help it: he laughs.
"I did," he says. "Which you kind of did, if you think about it, though your tackling in me in an elevator wasn't exactly how I'd imagined said freak out would go down. I figured it'd be a lot more painful."
"If I'd known you were into that..." Casey starts, and Dan rolls his eyes.
"Very funny, he-who-has-me-pressed-up-against-an-elevator-wall."
"I see you've discovered my nickname."
Dan smiles briefly, then sobers. "Casey," he says. "We can't just—"
"I'm not stupid, Dan," Casey says brusquely. "I wouldn't have done what I did if I didn't intend to follow it through." He looks Dan in the eyes. "All the way through."
Dan studies his expression for a minute. "All right," he says. "But we still need to talk."
"I know," Casey says. "But do we have to talk right this second?"
"No," he says, smirking, "I guess not."
Casey grins. "Have any ideas about what we could do instead?"
Dan brings a hand up to the back of Casey's head, pulling him closer. "I don't have a clue," he lies, and he smiles.
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