Semaphore
by Helen
"We'll just ask Casey," Natalie said.
"That isn't necessary," Jeremy said, following her into the conference room.
"I think it might be."
"I assure you, I have absolutely no difficulty in believing you in this particular case," Jeremy said, getting himself a cup of coffee.
"In this case?"
"In this case, none whatsoever."
"Casey," Nathalie said, slapping her hand down on the table next to him, "have you ever seen me starry—eyed?"
"Starry—eyed?"
"Starry—eyed in the vicinity of Dan."
"I—"
"I had a cold that day, anyway," Natalie said, "I was hopped up on extra—strength Sudafed."
"I told you, I don't care," Jeremy said.
"Perhaps you should care."
"About what?"
"About me looking at Dan in a starry—eyed fashion."
"You looked at Dan in a starry—eyed fashion?" Casey said.
"No, I didn't."
"I see."
"Reportedly, however, I did."
"Reported where?" Casey said. "Is this some kind of scurrilous underground publication that I'm unaware of?"
"Natalie," Jeremy sighed. "They also said that he moved with the rare precision of a jungle cat."
"Not in the same sentence, I don't think."
"My point being that—," he shook his head "Casey: were you aware that Dan's whipcord lean form moves with the grace of a jungle cat?"
"Not as such, no," Casey said.
"There, see? It's false report."
"Am I going to be allowed to know what's going on at any point? I realize it's not standard policy," Casey said, "but. jungle cat?"
"Oh," Natalie said, "you didn't see it? Dan's on Broadcasting's fifty sexiest people list."
"Oh."
"Dan Rydell," Jeremy began in an officious voice, flipping open the magazine he had in his hand "prowls through the corridors of Sports Night like he owns them—and with good reason. At 32, he's one of the best reasons for an extended cable package, whether one enjoys comprehensive and amusing sports coverage, or simply enjoys a good view.
Next to the massive men he routinely interviews, he looks almost slight, so it's a surprise to find that in real life, he's tall, with shoulders that are not in the least delicate. We're smitten even before he politely shakes hands, throwing a paradoxical grin, half shy, half rakish. Before we can ask any questions, Natalie Hurley comes in the door with a sheaf of papers. There are introductions all around, as Dan explains that Natalie is an invaluable presence behind the camera. He calls her "Hurley" and we're treated to a different shade of grin, all boy—next—door, and when Natalie leaves the office, she's a little starry—eyed from the undivided attention of those dark eyes."
"ah," Nathalie said, and Jeremy held up his hand and continued,
"Sports is his business, and so it's no surprise to find that off camera, liberated from the desk, Dan's whipcord lean body moves with rare grace and liquid precision, an aggressive slink that brooks no argument
—Okay, first," Jeremy broke off to say, "are there slinks that brook argument?"
"Prowl, slink, what the hell is this, Wild America?" Casey said.
"Anyone would think Sports Night was filmed in the Kalahari," Nathalie said.
"Hey," Dan said, walking in as Nathalie leaned forward and grabbed the magazine from Jeremy.
"Have you see this?" Nathalie asked, waving the magazine at Dan, who smirked and sat down on the conference table.
"Me and Peter Jennings, baby."
"Peter Jennings and I—" Casey said.
"I can't say Peter Jennings and I, baby, and you know it."
"Fine."
"Danny, what did they do to the lighting to make your skin look like this?" Nathalie said, squinting at the magazine, before Casey snatched it from her, "Because I need me some of that."
"Why is there nothing about me?" Casey said plaintively, scowling at the glossy page.
"I didn't want to say anything before, Casey," Jeremy said solemnly, "but I think there's something wrong with your slink."
"I'm just saying, I was there that day."
"At least they didn't say you were starry—eyed," Nathalie said.
"What the hell did they say about Peter Jennings?"
Jeremy sat down. "Something about rakish flair, I believe."
"Was everyone described as rakish?"
"More or less."
"Am I rakish?"
"No," Dana said coming in and closing the door. "Let's go, folks."
"You're jealous," Dan said, resting his chin on his hand.
"I am not jealous," Casey said, staring resolutely at his monitor.
"Oh really?"
"Why would I be jealous?" He looked up and flapped his hand accusingly at Danny "It's not as though it's some sort of journalistic honor."
"Oh, I see."
"I mean, if it were that, instead of an empty idea that emphasizes how far our society has sunk in valuing appearance over—"
"You are so jealous."
"Not to mention—what, you're proud of being as sexy as Peter Jennings?"
"There's a certain cachet in that."
"Yes, I'm sure there is."
Danny smirked at him and went back to his script and Casey fiddled with the stacks of paper on his desk.
"It said, 'Sports is'," Casey said defensively, some minutes later.
"So?"
"So, you're going to trust the judgement of a publication that violates the rules of subject—verb agreement?"
"See? This is why I'm sexy."
"What?"
"Because I know that being able to judge sexiness has really very little to do with grammar ability," Danny said expansively, "quite the opposite, in fact."
"But—"
"Look—do you go to a Japanese Restaurant for Norwegian food?"
"I don't go anywhere for Norwegian food."
My friend Yolanda thinks you're cute," Kim said, giving them a sheet of corrected statistics and helping Casey untangle his earpiece cord.
"Yolanda," Danny said.
"She likes the dorky element."
"Have you seen my article?"
"I've seen your article," Kim said patiently.
"I'm endorsed as sexy by Broadcasting magazine."
"Yes, I know, Danny."
"I'm not a dork."
"Debatable. Here's Yolanda's number."
"Um, thank you." After Kim left, he turned to Casey and said, gleefully "did you see that?"
"I was here," Casey said, lacing his fingers together. Danny grinned.
Casey bought a copy of Broadcasting on the way home, a little furtively, as if he were buying a porn magazine, and read the article a half a dozen times that night and spent the next few days examining Danny's walk, which looked just the same as it always had, which was to say, serviceable. It got him from place to place.
"Your walk. It's not sexy," he said after a few days.
"You've been checking me out?"
"Just an observation," he muttered.
"No, that's okay." Dan sauntered over and leaned against his desk, crossing his legs at the ankle and leering companionably at Casey.
"Cut it out."
"Cut what out—I'm just being myself. Just because someone else noticed that I have an animal magnetism—"
"Stop acting like Antonio Banderas, is all I'm saying," Casey said, vaguely irritated.
"Antonio Banderas is sexy."
"No, he's not."
"Oh."
"C'mon."
"No, I see," Dan said, lips thinning, "You don't think I'm sexy."
"That upsets you?" Casey said incredulously.
"No."
"Well, it shouldn't."
"Doesn't bother me," Dan said firmly
"Good."
"Seems to bother you."
"It bothers me that I don't find you sexy?" Casey said. Dan stood up and wandered around to the other side of Casey's desk, poking at a book on pole vaulting before saying,
"Okay, so it bothers me a little."
"I know."
Dan turned around "I just think that you should really be able to admit that—"
"Give me a break."
Dan braced his hands on the front of Casey's desk and leaned down.
"I'll tell you you're sexy."
"That's not necessary."
"Oh, come on, Casey, you're jealous and you want someone to say somethin' about your brown eyes and your. hands."
"That's enough, Danny."
"I can't believe how uncomfortable this makes you."
"It doesn't make me uncomfortable," Casey said quietly.
"Right."
"It doesn't make me uncomfortable—very few things make me uncomfortable. Except uncomfortable things."
"Like what?"
"Like chairs. Uncomfortable chairs."
Dan shook his head and flapped one hand dismissively at Casey, but he didn't bring it up again.
"I don't need a magazine to tell me whether I'm sexy or not," Casey said some days later, after the broadcast, staring morosely at the small pile of perfumey looking letters on Dan's desk. Dan already had one arm in his coat, but he took it back out again and hung the coat back up, looking uncertainly at Casey.
"Neither do I."
"yeah, that shows," Casey said.
"I don't."
"Right."
"I need—" Dan stopped, exhaled sharply.
"What."
"I need you to," Dan said slowly.
"You don't mean that," Casey said, and the smile Danny gave him this time was not so much rakish as it was reckless.
Dan stepped too close to him and touched his throat with two fingers and Casey was too surprised to do anything but let him. But when Dan's fingers curled over the neck of his t-shirt, he jerked away and said,
"You can just stop it right now."
"Stop what?"
"Cut it out," Casey said, and gave Dan a little shove.
"You're shoving me now?"
"I guess."
"You never shove anyone, Casey."
"Perhaps I do now."
"It's completely out of character for you."
"It was a shove."
Dan looked dubious. "It was a completely un—you like shove; are you having some kind of midlife crisis where you start cage—fighting or something?"
"No."
"Because it certainly seemed like—"
"Dan, you're being annoying."
"Just trying to fit in," Dan said sullenly.
"Shut up."
"No, I—." And Casey shoved him again, this time much harder, burying his fists in Dan's sweater and swinging him half around to push him up against the wall.
"Shut up, Danny," he said.
"Because now you're channeling your sexual urges towards me into aggression," Dan said.
"Jesus Christ," Casey said, and dropped him. "Can't you just be quiet?"
"Why don't you just go ahead and hit me, then, fine, I don't care," Dan said, catching his arm with one hand.
"I'm not going to hit you."
"You already shoved me."
"Yes, I did."
"So why draw the line, is all I'm saying."
"You gonna hit me back? If I hit you," Casey half whispered, for the first time seriously contemplating it, wondering what it would be like to push his fist in hard against Dan's cheekbone, bruising his knuckles, bruising the soft skin around Danny's eye.
"I don't want to hit you," Dan said.
"Then."
"But you, obviously want to hit me."
"What do you want?" Casey said, pushing him again, just a little.
"I want you to touch me, I, um," Dan said, and put a shaky hand against Casey's cheek. Casey's mouth dropped open a little, startled, and the one hand still holding Dan clenched convulsively in his shirt. Dan licked his lower lip and tugged Casey's head forward, sliding his hand around to cup Casey's neck, closing his eyes, and Casey let him. He pressed his mouth against Dan's, not quite a kiss. Then he stepped back, taking his hand from Dan's shirt and Dan made a small sound of protest and opened his eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry what?"
"I'm sorry but no," Casey said.
"Are you kidding me?"
"Danny, it's not—"
"Oh, be quiet." Dan shook off his hands and stepped away from the wall. "What, do you pity me? At least I know what I want."
"I know what I want, I just, I."
"Forget it." The tips of Dan's ears had gone a dull red. "You're gonna wish you took it when I offered it."
"Oh, what, your sexual magnetism will eventually reel me in and I'll curse the day I let you slip through my fingers," Casey sneered.
"More or less."
"ah, I don't think so."
"Why not."
"Because, once again, neither of us are Antonio freakin' Banderas."
"What movie was that?"
"Zorro?"
"Did you see Zorro?"
"No.
"Me either. But I think it was more about underground resistance and horseback riding."
"Zorro was a resistance fighter?"
"I don't know."
"What was he resisting?"
"I don't know."
"I'm going home," Casey said.
"Wait."
"I'm going home."
"Please don't tell me you're surprised," Dan said.
"I am surprised."
"Why?"
Casey fumbled with his coat, "Do you have a thing, a, a, a—"
"crush?"
"Yes, a, no, not a crush. You can't have a crush after age seventeen. Terrible word anyhow."
"So if I were, it would be some more serious word."
"Yes."
"I am," Dan said, swallowing.
"I'm going home."
Dan would bring it up again, he knew; Dan tended to be strangely fixated on pursuing rejection. He wished he hadn't found out. He wished he'd hit Dan, caught the corner of his face and shoved his lip in, cutting it on his teeth, made him bleed, anything but know this.
But Dan didn't bring it up. Just rolled into work looking well rested, gave Nathalie a high five, told Casey about an interview he thought they should do with some Japanese baseball players
"Figure skating. I have to say I like it far more than I used to," Jeremy said.
"Singles or Pairs?" Danny said.
"Singles."
"Men or women?"
"Women."
"Casey slept with Ekaterina Gordeeva."
"Really?"
"No, I did not, her husband had just died, for God's sake. It was Katarina Witt."
"Ah," Jeremy said.
"And I didn't sleep with her, so much as. talk to her in a bar."
"What did you talk about?"
"I don't remember."
"But. Katarina Witt," Jeremy said wistfully.
"I was plastered. I think she thought I was a member of the American bobsled team."
"Why?"
"I told her," Casey admitted.
"So are you never going to mention it?" Casey said.
"Mention what?"
"Nice try; mention the fact that you want me."
"You like saying that out loud?" Dan said unpleasantly.
"The door's closed."
That wasn't what I meant; I meant, you like saying that I want you."
"I'm." Casey shrugged. "Just mentioning it."
"For someone who's not interested," Dan said slowly, "you look at me a lot."
"You hit on me, Danny. It was. I didn't—"
"Won't happen again," Dan said brusquely.
"Why not?"
"Why do you care?"
"Just wondering."
"It was just a stupid impulse. The impulse has passed."
"That was fast."
"Also, you kind of freaked out."
"I didn't."
"Yeah, you did, Casey. You acted like I had suggested that we try out for an all male nude revue."
"For the record, you aren't going to suggest that."
"No."
"I didn't mean to make you feel bad."
"Yes, because usually the words 'You're not sexy' rip me right out of a funk."
"I didn't say you weren't sexy."
"You called the article insane claptrap and yellow journalism."
"Not to your face."
"What difference does that make?"
"Do you make Natalie starry—eyed?"
"Not that I've noticed, no," Dan admitted.
"So."
"Okay. I'll concede the Natalie point, but just stay away from the prowl, okay?"
"Do you want to have sex with me?" Casey said bluntly.
"What do you think?" Dan muttered, staring at his desk.
"I—"
"Isn't it obvious by now? What exactly do you require of the people who want to have sex with you, anyway, Casey? A notarized document? I want." He shrugged uncomfortably. "I want you," he said, almost too quietly to hear.
"oh," Casey said, a little staggered, even though he had known what Dan would say.
"What did you think it was?"
"I guess, something a little closer to The Boy's King Arthur."
"I never read that."
"Chapter 11: Guinevere glances at Lancelot. Chapter 12: They burn her at stake. I think there's some harrying in there, too. "
"They don't burn her at stake," Dan said.
"Lancelot shows up in time."
"I should hope so."
Casey sighed. "I don't—"
"I know," Dan said quickly.
"You don't even know what I was going to say."
"Who cares? I don't think of you that way, I don't like men, I don' t ever want to have to touch you again, it's okay, I know."
"Oh, Dan. Shit."
"That's okay." Dan said. "I mean it's not as if." He laughed, shortly, "as though I really thought that having my attractiveness confirmed in a public forum would change things.
"It changed things."
"What things? You still want horsy—faced Dana, whom, I might point out, has never had even one sentence written about her walk."
"Her face is not horsy."
"Your face is a little horsy. I bet the two of you'll have horsy little children."
He'd felt, at first, faintly disgusted; he'd thought it was disgust—something deep and tight and twitchy in his stomach at Dan's wet mouth on his. He hadn't been able to get out of the office fast enough, get away from Dan, whom he could suddenly smell, not an unpleasant smell, and one he'd known for nearly his entire adult life, from loaned sweatshirts and quick hugs, Dan's insistence on tackling him in touch football games. He'd been on the bottom of more than his fair share of pig piles, nose stuffed into Dan's chest, but he'd never thought that Dan was thinking about. sex. Dan undressing him, touching him. Sucking his dick. And Danny wanting to be touched; he had always wanted to be touched, even before this.
Danny. sex. The thirty—fifth time he thought it, he recognized the lurch of his stomach for what it was.
"So are we on for this weekend?" he asked Dan during a commercial.
"What's this weekend?" Dan said, fiddling with his earpiece.
"Liberty. Monarchs."
"Since when do you watch the WNBA?"
"I like the WNBA."
"Well, what's not to like?"
I don't have to do anything, he told himself; probably nothing will happen. Dan hadn't touched him deliberately since the night they'd kissed. Dan had, in fact, dropped the subject entirely, and was pretending it hadn't happened. Unfortunately, Casey had always been a highly suggestible person. He didn't allow himself to watch television when he got home from work anymore, because the only things on at two in the morning were infomercials that he, for some reason, found unbearably compelling.
"You're insane, you realize," Dan had said, the last time he'd looked in Casey's kitchen drawers and seen the number of two-in-one potato peelers and garlic presses and whatnot.
"They were a free gift," Casey had mumbled.
On Thursday, he walked in to find Jeremy and Danny tangled together on the conference room table demonstrating the finer points of Greco—Roman wrestling to Dana and Nathalie.
"You're choking me," Dan said. "Hey, Casey, tell Jeremy here that neither the Greeks nor the Romans approved of choking."
Something's going to happen, he thought, and felt the hot stupid heady rush of high school, wondered how Dan's skin would taste and resolutely ignored everything else.
On Saturday, he waited until the first commercial before touching Dan's face, trailing his fingers carefully down Dan's cheek, getting about two inches before Dan jerked away in shock.
"What're you doing?"
"What do you think?"
"You can't just, you can't just,"
"Yeah, I can."
"You—"
"Because you want me and you've always wanted me, how long have you wanted me?" He said, catching Dan's arm before he could make it off the couch.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Dan said loudly, starting to turn red.
"If you just." He sighed and yanked on Dan's arm, pulling him closer, "I thought you were joking a little, Danny. I thought. It's true isn't it?"
"Of course it's fucking true, I can't—"
"Come on, would you have believed it? You caught me off guard."
"well, yeah, but—"
"I thought, um, I—. C'mere," he said, shifting closer to Danny on the couch.
"Wait a minute," Dan said, standing up, "just. wait. You don't sleep with me just because I want you, okay? You can move my couch and buy me a decongestant, that's all you're allowed to do."
"If you don't want to, fine," Casey said, crossing him arms and slumping back on the couch. Dan shook his head in disbelief.
"I can't believe you'd even offer."
"I thought you'd say yes."
"Why?"
"Because I thought you were quivering with lust for me, and forgive me, but that's a pretty damn enticing prospect from anyone at all. I keep having sex with people because it's convenient and Danny, I just. You're so fucking inconvenient, you have no idea."
"oh."
"But if you're not, if you're—"
"No, I am."
"So," Casey said, after a minute.
"What do you want to do?" Dan said nervously.
"I—"
"I mean, we can do whatever you want."
"Oh god," Casey said, in a faintly shocked voice. "Okay." He sat up and pulled his sweater over his head. "Take off your clothes."
"Here?"
"I want to do it on the couch," Casey said.
"okay," Dan said and took off his sweat shirt.
"Are you gonna be this nervous the whole time?"
"What, I'm not allowed to be nervous?"
"I've never done this before," Casey said.
"And I—"
"You slept with Phil DeMarco after he pitched a perfect game in Dallas."
"You weren't supposed to know about that."
"I knew about it."
"And he didn't want to do it on the couch," Dan said, but he was more relaxed after that, sliding his jeans down his thighs and coming over to stand in front of Casey, who put a hand behind one knee and pulled him forward to straddle him on the couch.
Casey bit his nipple and said "By anything you meant anything," and slid a hand over Dan's ass, pulling him in closer.
"Anything," Dan agreed, stroking his hands a little dreamily along Casey's shoulders.
"We need stuff," Casey said. "Go get it."
And when Dan got back, he finally kissed him, tilting his head against the back of the couch and letting his hands ride Dan's hips. Dan sighed and sucked his tongue and eventually, mouth open in breathless concentration, sat firmly down on Casey's cock.
"Christ," he gasped, shifting uncomfortably.
Soon, he leaned in to kiss Casey again, but Casey held him off, one hand on his shoulder, gasping for breath, avoiding Danny's eyes. He ran his fingers along Dan's thighs and pressed his face against Dan's chest, wishing he'd move, not wanting to say anything. Dan's cock was pressed against his stomach and he reached between them to touch it, which made Dan move, and moan "Casey," quietly, and eventually come on him and on his sofa and by the time he came, his knees were sweating, knees and the creases of his elbows and he was soaked and sticky and he had bitten the inside of his cheek. He felt terrific.
Dan shifted on top of him, and Casey pulled him up more securely against him, arm around his waist.
"Hey," he said, softly, and Dan nuzzled Casey's cheek, kissed him gently on the temple and chuckled quietly
"So, you think I'm sexy now?"
There was a moment's pause and then Casey said, almost dully, "Yeah, sure. you're sexy," and didn't notice when Dan stopped smiling. "Look—I have some errands I have to do pretty early tomorrow."
"Well, I could. I can go," Dan offered.
"I just really need to get some sleep."
"Yeah. No problem," Dan said, sounding off balance. Serves you fucking right, Casey thought, watching Dan scrabble for his clothes on the floor. Dan's hands shook a little, buttoning his shirt, but Casey didn't notice that either, had already turned away, and walked into his bedroom, closing the door. Dan let himself out.
He got home at eight. He'd been at Casey's apartment for maybe forty-five minutes. Dusk had ended, but just barely. Summertime; Casey's windows had been open. His ass hurt. He felt too cold to take a shower, so he just pulled off his jeans and got into bed.
He tried to stop thinking about it, tried, but his stomach hurt and his ass hurt and Casey hadn't done a very good job of preparing him. He hadn't cared at the time; it had seemed. romantic.
He'd really. The way Casey had looked at him. For some reason he was having a hard time finishing sentences tonight. He fell asleep, finally, and woke up at dawn, moaning, hard, dreaming that Casey's hands were still on him, hot on his back, holding him.
No need to panic yet: only a misunderstanding after all, a mistake and Casey had come on to him, hadn't he? God, he could barely remember, it had happened so fast. Casey would call him. Or, before last night Casey would have called him but he couldn't be sure any more could he? Because before last night, he had considered that he knew what Casey would and would not do; and before last night, Casey fucking him had been at the top of the 'would not do' list.
You are so stupid, he told himself. The kiss had been stupid. And Casey was right, the article was stupid, too. When they called him, he should have just said no.
Casey didn't call, but as it got later he started to feel relieved because he wasn't sure that he wouldn't beg or otherwise make a fool out of himself. It wasn't that he hadn't been prepared—he had been, actually, had thought it through as carefully as a disaster drill, only instead of fallout shelters and bottled water, he'd pictured himself apologizing to Casey for fucking up somehow. He thought he'd worked out all the possible permutations. Just like a real disaster, he hadn't really expected it to happen, any of it.
He hadn't even meant to kiss Casey the first time; it had just. happened, because he'd been tired and because he had wanted so much for Casey to touch him.
Cornflakes and milk for lunch and dinner. The milk was cold and that was pretty good. The corn flakes made interestingly painful cuts on the roof of his mouth.
He woke up crying the night after that.
On Monday, Dan peered up over his computer when Casey sat down at his desk and smiled at him in greeting. Casey had thought he wasn't angry any more, had spent the weekend shrugging it off, but he could barely muster a smile in return and then wondered why he'd bothered.
"Casey, I'm. I."
"Just. Don't do it again," Casey said, not looking at Dan.
"Okay."
"I didn't like it," Casey said, thinking that that was a fairly mild way of describing what it felt like to have the single most revelatory moment of his life chucked back in his face. To have Dan sprawled sweatily on top of him, to feel his heart pounding with discovery and find that it wasn't what he thought at all.
"Right," Dan said, a little hoarsely and pressed his lower lip to his upper lip.
What did you expect, Casey wanted to say, what did you think I would do? Two days later and he was still going hot and cold every time Dan moved and Dan was looking at him curiously, blinking a little. His eyes were bloodshot. He had a weird unattractive mouth, Casey thought.
"What?" Casey said, louder than he meant to.
"Nothing."
They barely spoke the whole day, which meant that the show sounded like they were in different time zones and Danny's timing sucked, and he kept apologizing for it in during the breaks, and no one noticed it at all because Nathalie and Jeremy were too busy breaking up.
"Hey?" Dan said, coming into a production room, film in hand, and seeing Jeremy, glasses off, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Loved and lost?"
"I'm tending towards never loved at all these days," Jeremy said, smiling tiredly.
"Really," Dan said, and sat down.
"Yes."
"The general consensus, however, is loved and lost."
"I'm aware of that."
"Still—you'd think you would remember the part where it feels like someone is prodding at your innards with a poker," Dan said, leaning back.
"While you were never loving at all."
"Exactly."
"It does seem as though that would be difficult to forget."
"What were the perks of loved and lost then?" Dan said. Jeremy scrubbed his hand through his hair.
"Did I do the right thing, Dan?"
"I don't know."
"I miss her. And she's. um. really pissed at me."
"I know."
"We can change the subject now," Jeremy said. "How's that sexy article thing working out for you?"
"Can't complain."
"Don't let it go to your head."
"Don't worry."
A week went by, and then another. They worked through the weekend. Dan was competent and very slightly quiet. He seemed to be avoiding Casey, although Casey couldn't be sure. It wasn't obvious, just that where they used hang around after the show and talk for five or forty minutes, now Dan put on his coat and waved good—bye to Casey as quickly as he could without really seeming to be in a hurry. It became clear, soon enough, that Dan was leaving so he could go on dates.
"There's been an increase in preening and giggling in that direction," Jeremy said waving his clipboard vaguely in the direction of Dan, who was leaning by the elevator, talking to a small blond woman.
"Preening," Casey said.
"And giggling."
"Are we talking about ducks?"
"Do ducks giggle?"
"No."
"Dan," Dana said, joining them, "has been on dates with half the building."
"In two weeks?"
"In his defense, I'm not certain there's anything he could have done to prevent it."
"They're very insistent," Jeremy said.
"What?"
"One of them stepped quite painfully on my instep when I told her I didn't know where he was," Jeremy said.
"I, um. Are we done here?" Casey said.
"Yes," Dana said.
"Do you think I can get some kind of workman's compensation for that?" Jeremy said to Dana.
Casey pressed his hot face against the aluminum divider of the bathroom stall. The metal was cool against his cheek, but after a few minutes, he gave up and leaned back against the divider and looked at the ceiling and promised himself he would never casually sleep with anyone again. Not that he'd been in the habit of it before, but there were people he'd gone to bed with, not thinking about it.
What had he been thinking, he asked himself, but not really, because he knew exactly what he'd been thinking, it was the same thing he'd been thinking since Danny had kissed him, amazing that a single dry kiss could be the origin of every wet indecent thing he wanted to do to Danny. A harsh thing, to realize that he wanted to kiss Danny, to be allowed to touch him, his wrist, his waist, his knee, all just a little too late.
Danny was his best friend, but he could be strangely careless about things, strangely careless of me, Casey thought, although he knew it was not true, that Dan spent a lot of time trying to protect him, careful of his feelings, careful not to go too far. Except, of course, for that once.
Perhaps, anyway, he thought, he was being unfair. Perhaps he was overreacting. Dan had offered sex, and he'd taken it and that was all it was. Fine. Fair enough.
"You sir, are a woman," he told his reflection, and grinned ruefully at himself.
The show that night was not half bad, and afterwards, he and Danny discussed hockey teams they both hated for an hour, sprawled at opposite ends of the couch in their office.
The next day, Nathalie and Will strung up a badminton net in the newsroom and made everyone play sudden—death two minute speed badminton:
"A game of my own invention," Nathalie said proudly.
"Ah."
"Has Dana seen this?" Jeremy said.
"Dana and Eric are the current champions, unless they are unseated by," she caught Casey's arm as he walked by, "Casey and Dan."
They lost within the first 30 seconds,
"The long list of sports at which you suck never ceases to amaze me," Casey said, and tapped Dan on the head with his racket.
"At least I can swim," Dan said.
"I can swim."
"You don't float, Case. That thing where you drape yourself across a flutterboard is not swimming." Dan patted him quickly on the shoulder.
"Remove yourselves from the field of play," Nathalie shouted.
"I can swim."
"Yes. and I once stabbed a man to death with a fork."
So they were back where they started, Casey thought. Except, of course, for the sex dreams.
"What are you doing?" Casey said, leaning in to their office, surprised to see Dan still working.
"Just finishing some stuff up for tomorrow," Dan said, glancing up at Casey. "You can go, I'll get the lights."
"Hey, do you want to get something to eat?"
"I can't."
"Date?"
"Yeah," Danny said reluctantly.
"Still need someone to tell you you're sexy, huh?" Casey said, before he could stop himself.
"I have to go," Dan said, and stood up, circling around the opposite end of the desk to avoid Casey. Something about the carefully blank look on Dan's face infuriated Casey, and stepped back, blocking the doorway and said,
"Hey, if you want, you could just stand her up and I'll tell you you're sexy and then, you know, you can get enough sleep to be able to write a decent script."
"There was nothing wrong with my script today," Danny said levelly.
"You think not?"
Dan picked up his coat and started to leave and it was easy, god, it was so easy to stop him, one hand catching his arm,
"Let go of me," Dan said.
"Why? So you can go screw a groupie? I thought you had a policy on that."
"That's not."
"I thought you didn't do it. In fact, I remember you telling me you thought it was rude."
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"You really think you're something, don't you?" Casey said, crowding Dan towards the wall a little, not losing his grasp on Dan's arms.
"Jesus, you're right. What am I thinking, taking up all this space?"
"If you just want to get fucked, I'll fuck you," Casey said, and watched, interested, as Dan's skin went an odd shade of blotchy pink and he slanted his eyes away, over Casey's shoulder and mumbled
"Don't, Casey."
"Why not? You didn't seem to mind before."
"Because I thought," Dan blurted, looking at him for a moment and then looking away again, this time fastening his eyes somewhere below Casey's chin. "I didn't know. I thought. I should have known; it wasn't like." He stopped and cleared his throat and continued carefully "You didn't want to kiss me or. use your bed. I really thought you were going to asked me to stay."
"Danny," Casey said, or rather thought he said, because he opened his mouth and nothing came out, and Dan ducked away from the wall and around him and grabbed his coat.
oh shit. Casey thought. Oh shit. This type of thing used to happen to him all the time when he was married to Lisa: his discovering that he had fucked up beyond the bounds of human reason. The end of their marriage hadn't been entirely her fault, although it had seemed like it at time. It was easier to believe that, especially since most of his friends had been perfectly happy to go with the Lisa, Queen Bitch explanation. But it had been his fault, too, his long hours and terrible obtuseness about the way she felt. He'd unwittingly hurt her feelings so many times that he'd taken to thinking of her as oversensitive, but now he thought that maybe that wasn't it at all, that maybe there really was something wrong with him that made him misinterpret everything good that happened to him in a dire and stupid way.
"We need to talk."
Dan's eyes narrowed. "About the Warriors Lakers game?"
"No."
"What?"
"I did want to kiss you."
"You wanted to kiss me."
"We kissed."
"Yeah, we did."
Casey nodded and closed their office door.
"I thought," he said slowly, "you were only doing it to. because I wouldn't say you were sexy."
"What?"
"Yeah."
"You thought I was—why did you think that?" Dan said, bewildered.
"I don't know."
"There must have been some reason, though. There must have been something about the way I acted that made you—"
"I don't know why—I just."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"I'm trying to apologize."
"Don't bother," Dan said quickly.
"Don't be an asshole."
"Was that part of the apology?"
"Danny, I'm sorry."
"For calling me an asshole."
"No. Yes. No. I'm sorry for treating you—"
"Is this strictly necessary?"
"Yes."
"I don't want to," Dan said, and turned around, facing out the windows.
"I didn't know," Casey said, "I didn't know you felt like that. about me."
"Just so you know, about every third thing you say makes me want to strangle you with my bare hands."
"oh."
"How could you not know?"
"What? Why? It's not as though you were charging around the studio writing Danny + Casey on your notebooks, you know. I didn't know."
Dan turned back around and his mouth twisted bitterly "What did you think?"
"All of a sudden you're kissing me in the office. And acting as though, I don't know."
"As though I've been in love with you for years? Is that—"
"How was I supposed to know?"
"It's not as though I used semaphore," Dan said harshly. "I tried to make out with you in our office and excuse me if I usually reserve that for people that I. that."
"I didn't know," Casey said again, his throat hot and sore.
"Yeah."
"You look. Nice sweater," Casey said, tentatively.
"I have a date."
"What? But."
"Don't touch me," Dan said coolly.
"You don't understand, I—Danny,"
"Shut up. I can't even look at you right now."
"But I—"
"I have to go."
"You started this."
"Yeah, you're right Casey," Dan hit the doorframe with the flat of his hand, hard. "I'm the one who kicked you out of my place like you'd half raped me, that was me."
"What was I supposed to think," Casey said, stung, "when you snuggled right up to me after and demanded that I tell you you were sexy?"
"It was just a joke."
"I know—just a joke to admit that I wanted you and then you could rest easy."
"It wasn't like that."
"How was I supposed to know that?"
"I don't know Casey. How were you supposed to know that I don't fuck around with the people I care about for the sake of my self—esteem?"
"It sounds so sordid when you say it like that."
"It was sordid," Dan said and raised his hand in greeting to a woman standing across the office, who waved enthusiastically in return.
"You gonna fuck around with her?" Casey asked.
"Fuck off."
It was a nice sweater, Casey thought. Could, for some reason, imagine vividly someone else's hands sliding underneath the hem, tugging it impatiently up over his head.
"It's come to my attention," Casey said, "that I've been an asshole."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Just now, that's come to your attention."
"Yes."
"Okay."
"So are we good?"
Dan looked as if he didn't know what to say. "No, we're not good."
"I said I was sorry."
"So what?"
"So, I. I, um, want—."
"Shut up."
"Why?"
"Because I want you to."
"You're not going to forgive me."
"No. not at the moment, no."
"Why not?"
"Why should I?"
"Because I'm sorry."
"You. it hurt my feelings."
"You're not forgiving me because I hurt your feelings?"
"I'm not forgiving you because you, apparently, think I'm the whore of Babylon."
"I didn't mean it that way."
"There is no way to mean it that will involve me. forgiving you."
"Danny,"
"I wish you'd get out of my face."
"That's going to be a little hard to manage."
"Why's that?"
"Remember the part where we work together—same show? same desk?"
"Just stay the hell a way from me."
"I'd like to sleep with you again. I'd like. to make love to you."
"You can't just barge in and—"
"I can't just leave it."
"I want you to," Dan said.
"I won't."
"Then you're. You're just as bad as you were before."
"Dan."
"It hurt."
"I know I hurt you."
"No, I meant, you hurt me when you fucked me. Why would I want to do it again?"
Oddly, it was a very very good show that night. Dan was funny and he was funny and they were perfect together. "Good show," he said, after.
"yeah." Dan said. By the time he got back to the office, Dan had left.
I'm not going to have sex again for a long long time, Casey realized. Because either Danny was going to forgive him and want to have sex with him again, or not forgive him, or forgive him but not want to have sex, or, eventually, of course, he'd get over Danny and have sex with someone else. But right now, he didn't want anyone else, he only wanted Danny, with a strange petulant ache.
It was a bad weekend all around. Charlie noticed that chimps at the zoo had obsessive compulsive disorder and had yanked out a lot of the hair on their legs and stomachs. This necessitated a philosophical discussion on the nature of man versus animal to which Casey felt wholly unequal.
Monday and Tuesday weren't so hot either. Jeremy was, apparently, Danny's new best friend.
"Do you want to come over this weekend?"
"No."
"WNBA."
"I'm busy."
"We'll just hang out and watch the game."
"I—"
"Jeremy's coming. He's a big fan of the Shock."
"What?"
"The Detroit Shock. huge fan."
"We'll see."
"WNBA?" Jeremy said.
"Yes, WNBA."
"eh."
"Gertrude Stein is on the phone Jeremy: she'd like to kick your ass."
"I thought we had a rule about liberal guilt in this organization."
"You just don't get tired of watching those girls play," Casey said.
"I'm strangely compelled by your nonsensical amalgam of chauvinism and blind political correctness.'
"Good. This weekend, my place. You like the Shock."
"Is Dan going to be there?"
"Yes, he is."
"Do I look like the human shield to you?"
"Do I look like someone who reads Marvel Comics to you?"
"The human shield is not a comic book character."
"Are you coming or not?"
"I sense that I'm about to be used as a pawn in this insane disagreement you're having with Dan."
"What did he tell you?"
"He told me that it was nothing and then he crumpled little bits of paper all over the floor of the production room, and you don't know how much I would enjoy it if this were none of my business."
"You coming to the game?"
"Fine."
"Good."
"I think you should cut him a break, Casey."
"What?"
"Grudges are unbecoming."
"He's angry at me."
Jeremy blinked. "oh."
Saturday. Casey watched Danny and Danny watched the television intently, indiscriminately, showing the same attention to the commercials for the state lottery and Sprite as he did to the instant replays. Jeremy drank three beers and declared that he was going to start attending WNBA games.
"Any one of those women could squash you like a bug," Dan muttered.
"I know," Jeremy said blissfully.
Danny was up off the couch the minute the game ended.
"okay," he said, "I have to. be going."
"What about—," Casey said.
"Jeremy—I'll drop you off home," Dan said.
"Yeah, okay, thanks."
"I'll see you Monday," Dan said.
"Monday, yeah," Casey said, and closed the door behind them.
At first it seemed impossible, of course.
He couldn't remember being so angry at someone else. He should have been used to it by now, after years of his father's brusque censure: but he hadn't expected Casey to think so little of him. And he'd been so grateful, good little puppy, those first few weeks, when he'd thought Casey was tolerating him, forgiving him for just one more in a string of endless fuck—ups, just a little coerced sex between friends.
And he'd forgotten, couldn't stand to think about how he'd felt when Casey smiled and yanked him down on the couch, his uncomplicated happiness at being wanted, at Casey's cheek against his pounding heart. He couldn't imagine feeling like that ever again, because now when he looked at Casey all he remembered was how sore he'd been the next morning, Casey's demands and stumbling apologies.
He was angry enough to hurt someone at first, amazing that he could feign being lighthearted during the show, and he walked off exhausted every night, his back and neck twisted into knots from having to smile at Casey. He actually broke a few of his dishes, throwing them on the floor because it made the hot scratchy feeling around his eyes go away for about ten seconds and he knew this couldn't going on forever, but he couldn't imagine how it would ever go away while he had to look at Casey's body and Casey's pained face every day.
And then, one day, it did.
"Those dates."
"What dates?"
"I didn't have sex with them," Dan said.
"The dates."
"the women."
"what women"
"The women who wanted to have sex with me."
"When was this?"
"Pretending ignorance to cover your envy isn't a good look for you."
"You didn't have sex with them," Casey said.
"I did not."
"Not one."
"Not a one. Some of them begged, too."
"Really?"
"Well, not really begged, to be fair. Some of them asked very nicely though."
"So why didn't you," Casey asked.
"I. didn't feel like it, I guess."
"What did you do with them, then?"
"I bought them pie."
"Pie."
"Women like pie."
"Everyone likes pie, Danny."
"You don't."
"As you've never bought me pie, you wouldn't know."
"I wanted to buy you pie," Dan said.
"Since when?"
"Since. You wanted pie?"
"Everyone wants pie."
"But you. Never mind."
"okay."
Every once in a while, he caught Dan looking at him speculatively. He pretended not to notice, but every time they were in the office together, alone, after the show, he caught himself moving a little slowly around Danny, giving him an opening. Danny was going to kiss him, sometime. maybe. Every time they rode down the elevator and walked through the parking garage together, alone, late, dark and hush, he was ready. ready, ready; thought about Dan's hands sliding through his hair, down his back and maybe Dan would press him up against his car, cold metal and glass against his back.
Soon, he thought, sitting in his car at stoplights, brushing his teeth, watching Danny type, let it be soon.
That Friday, there was a gymnastics score fixing scandal and no one got any lunch. He and Dan shared a box of tic—tacs between them during the broadcast, and after the show, Casey found Dan sitting on the couch in the dark, head back, neck exposed.
"hey," Dan said, without moving, and Casey took a short sharp breath, stepped forward, and slid to his knees between Dan's legs. Dan lifted his head, but the dark made his expression unreadable. He was still wearing his suit from the broadcast, and Casey reached up and loosened his tie, dragging it off over his head and unbuttoned the top two buttons of Dan's shirt, sliding his fingers inside.
"Please, I want. I."
"Okay," Dan said and angled his head down enough that Casey could kiss him, ran one finger along Casey's jaw and down his throat.
"You want to come home with me?"
"I don't know."
"I could buy you pie, if you wanted."
"That's not necessary."
"I want to," Casey said, and Dan kissed him, slowly, and said,
"Let's go home."
"Baby," Casey said, when Danny pushed him up against the wall of his bedroom, and then "uh. I mean."
"That's okay," Dan said, pulling his jacket off briskly and unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt.
"I don't know."
"Why not."
"It's a little—" Casey shrugged, started to take off his sweater.
"Porn—esque."
"I don't think it's porn—esque. I wouldn't know if it were; I'm not a big consumer of porn."
"I see."
"And really, even if I were, I don't think calling you 'baby' is porn—esque."
"That depends on what you're doing when you call me baby."
Dan dropped his shirt on the floor.
"True," Casey said.
"If you were doing me, then I think it might qualify."
"ah."
"Do you think that could be arranged?" Dan stepped closer and Casey took a step back too, running into the wall again.
"It doesn't make you feel emasculated or anything."
"Panty hose would make me feel emasculated. "
"Yes. But if I call you baby."
"That's okay," Dan breathed.
"Good," Casey muttered, and leaned in for a kiss and Dan smiled against his lips and began to unbutton his shirt.
"I wanted to kiss you more that night," Casey said, fumbling with his pants.
"Don't worry about it, Case." Danny pulled his undershirt off over his head and toed off his shoes at the same time
"I wanted to. I just—I couldn't breathe," he said, as Dan licked his neck and pulled him towards the bed, one hand curled in the waistband of his underwear.
"Pants," Casey said, kissing Dan, unbuttoning the top button of his pants, stroking his palm across Dan's stomach.
"You too." Dan pulled away long enough to get his pants off, smiling when Casey pulled his underwear off.
"well," Casey said, and Dan tugged on his shoulders, wrapped an arm around his waist, pulled him down on the bed and kissed him for a long long time.
"I love you," Casey said, lifting his head, shaking a little at Dan's hands on his waist. "You aren't allowed to buy pie for anyone else."
"okay," Dan said, and kissed Casey's chin. "I love you." He rubbed his foot slowly along Casey's calf.
"So how would you like an amateur blow job?" Casey asked.
"Amateur?"
"Well, my training facilities have been severely limited."
"Also, one assumes you're maintaining your status for the 2000 Olympics."
"The training facilities have been pissed off at me," Casey clarified.
"With good reason."
"Yes," Casey said, pushing himself up off Danny, "stay there," he said and slid careful fingers across Danny's nipples, down his stomach, hesitated,
"You don't have to," Danny said.
"Yes, that's why they call it consensual sex." Casey curled his hand around Danny's cock, licked his lower lip thoughtfully and said "You're pretty sexy."
"You think so?"
"Yes," Casey said, and bent his head.
"mm." Dan said, shifting. "You can fuck me."
"I don't know."
"Why."
"Maybe I shouldn't always be the do—er," Casey said anxiously.
"You think giving a blow job means you're the do—er?"
"Um. Yes."
"You're wrong."
"I hurt you last time. "
"So do it right this time, idiot," Danny said, and shivered when Casey kissed the back of his neck and looped an arm across his waist.
"I should warn you in advance," Casey said, as he fumbled with the tube of lubricant, one handed, "that I will not be talking dirty."
"What, not ever?"
"Quit squirming around."
"I can't—I can't help it, Case," Dan panted.
"Haven't you ever heard of a refractory period?"
"Stop fiddling around and fuck me."
"Such language," Casey said, but he dropped his sticky hand to Dan's cock and pushed slowly inside him, breathing harshly, mouth open against Dan's shoulder.
Kisses woke him up, starting at the base of his neck and sliding down to the space between his shoulderblades.
"I'm hungry," Danny said, breath hot against his back, and he pressed himself backwards, gathering Danny's hand in his own and sliding it down his stomach. "er. for food," Danny said.
"And the romance dies," he said, pulling forward and lying on his back so he could see Dan's face.
"What do you expect? I haven't eaten for sixteen hours."
"I expect the rabid swagger of the jungle panther," Casey said.
"Get me some toast and we'll see." Dan poked him in the stomach.
"What do you want to do today?" Casey said, rolling out of bed.
"First, I want to eat some toast," Dan said, "but then I thought we could play dirty Scrabble and make out."
"Let's see, the F is four, and e, five, two Ls, six and seven, but the second L's a double letter score, which means eight, and a—t—i—o, nine, ten, eleven, twelve and a triple word score makes it thirty-six."
"you suck."
"yes, I do," Casey said suggestively.
"You have the other f, don't you?"
"None of your business."
"I need the f; the f is integral to my plans for world Scrabble domination."
"Forget it."
"There're only two in the whole game, Casey."
"No."
"Come on."
"You could make it worth my while," Casey said. Dan blinked and then scrambled eagerly into his lap, pushing him down on his back, knocking half the tiles off the board in the process as well as upending the box with unused tiles. Dan pushed his thigh in between Casey's and kissed his collarbone. Casey arched his back, wanting Dan's mouth on his nipples, and most of the tiles slid toward the side of the bed they were on. Casey pushed the scrabble board down the bed with his foot and rolled them over to the middle of the bed, the tiles slippery and cool on his skin.
"I'm not sure this situation is covered in the official Scrabble rules," Casey said, and licked Dan's top lip. An M tile was stuck to his shoulder.
"Kiss my ass."
"I might just do that," Casey said.
(end)