AUTHOR: S.N. Kastle
CATEGORY: Sports Night, Dan/Casey
SUMMARY: "Nobody thought we'd do this. Nobody really thinks it will
work, do they?" Late second season, Casey begins to change his mind.
RATING: R
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Props to Aaron Sorkin, and to Cameron Crowe for
the title. Must-have thrift-store reference item: The Book of Lists, by
Wallechinsky, et. al. Also, Scott Simon, author of Home and Away: Memoir
of a Fan, knows a little about hope and experience. And "Take Me Out to
the Ballgame" is all Kelly and Sinatra.
ARCHIVE: List OK, everyone else please link directly to
http://home.earthlink.net/~shanak11/success.html or ask permission.
THANKS: The brothers of Philadelphia broke my heart. These kids helped
put it back together: Sabine, who knows how to end things, from
Downtown! Anna, who brought croutons and common sense. Dawn, who
tried,
and who suggested Geraldine.
Originally posted 11 July 2001.
FEEDBACK: Like oxygen: shanak11@earthlink.net. all the imaginings ltd.:
http://home.earthlink.net/~shanak11/fiction.html
had suggested Anthony's, Dan had made that face, the one he'd been
wearing in the moments between their mid-segment conversations and the
red recording light coming on, like he was lost. So Casey had shrugged
and steered them here instead, and at some point he'd taken a long drink
and tried to decipher the sodden copy on the coaster. When he looked
up, Dan was gone. Probably just in the bathroom.
sitting at the bar gave him a broad, flat stare and a smile. Casey
smiled back, his TV grin for a fan, and then the guy arched an eyebrow
and bared his teeth a little and Casey slammed the rest of his beer and
looked away. He was used to people looking at him. He was used to men
looking at him. Most days, it was mostly men who looked at him.
But
he'd never quite gotten used to the sharp flash of a cruising stare, the
sheer simplicity and confidence of the obvious request. He didn't quite
know what to do with being wanted that much.
decided to abandon his coaster and seek out the bathroom, because there
weren't enough people left to worry about losing the table, and if he
stayed there Blueshirt was gonna try to buy him a beer.
and when the jukebox clicked off he heard something that sounded like
retching. "Uh, Danny?" he said, pressing his ear to the door. The
wood
was oily against his cheek and the toilet coughed and gurgled and
finally quieted. He knocked twice. "Danny? You okay?"
nudged open the door to find Dan sitting on the lidless toilet, pants up
and shirt open at the neck. He was flushed and a gloss of sweat danced
above his brow. "Can I, uh -- is it okay if I come in?"
to stand with his back against the door.
Casey was a little embarrassed even though it was just Dan. Casey's
dick was soft and heavy in his hand and he wondered if the guy was gone
and what Danny would think of the whole thing. Danny knew, about Casey,
about some of the things he'd given up for Lisa. But that was all very
much of the past.
been divorced and practically celibate for two years and Danny was maybe
bulimic or some shit. He tucked himself back in, zipped up and turned
around to find Danny with the lost look again.
the table swapping players' names and biggest upsets. They were maybe
five days behind on a package about greatest underdogs in sports history
for Friday's show.
enough that Casey could smell hairspray from the show and see a crease
of makeup smudged on Dan's chin.
door and it rattled on weak hinges. He met Casey's eye and his
shoulders slumped.
special coverage," Casey said.
they'd be in Tahiti drinking something fruity and watching girls play
volleyball on the beach.
sick?"
do, kept wondering if it had been this much of a pain in the ass to
cover his half of the conversation when he went crazy over the divorce.
Danny had even warned him that it could be like this, and still Casey
didn't understand what Danny needed from him.
the wedge of space, and Danny fell into Casey, his face wet and
trembling on Casey's neck. Casey wrapped his arms around Danny's back.
They stood there like that for a long minute, old Rolling Stones
screaming through the walls, and then Dan put one hand around the curve
of Casey's waist and the other on the fly of his jeans.
collar, eyes down. Dan's body was warm against Casey's chest, solid and
familiar, and if this was what Danny thought he needed, Casey knew how
to help after all.
froze. Casey slid a hand down around and into one of Danny's back jean
pockets, ducked his neck and ran his lips over the hollow of Dan's
throat where it peeked out of the shirt. Danny moaned and pushed his
hips toward Casey's and Casey held them close with his hand on Dan's
ass.
against the soft flesh underneath. Dan was clutching at Casey, trying to
work his shirt up out of his pants and then Dan's hands were sliding
across his lower back and he felt himself getting hard. He exhaled
sharply as Dan snagged open the button on his jeans and slid a hand
inside the boxers in one smooth move. Casey had no idea where Danny had
learned to do that and for a second he got distracted, imagining, but
then he just shifted and tried to get in a better position.
other wall and Casey leaned his shoulder into Danny's chest until they'd
torqued around and Dan was pressed against the door. Now there was a
little more room to play with, and Casey wandered under Dan's untucked
Oxford as he unzipped Danny's pants. When he wrapped a hand around
Danny's dick, Danny whimpered and almost lost his balance, hitting his
head on the door as he leaned back to catch himself. He pulled his hand
out of Casey's boxers as he flailed and Casey felt cold but he pinned
Dan to the wall and unbuttoned Dan's shirt in the gap between their
bodies, hand still jerking Dan's cock in time to a pounding bass line
that could have been either "All Along the Watchtower" or "Back in the
USSR," except it was hard to tell which over the panting hiccups that
Dan kept spitting into his ear. He kept rhythm and bent to kiss the
smooth skin of Dan's chest, sucking a little on a dark, flat nipple and
Dan clawed for Casey's shoulders, running his hands up and down the
sides of Casey's arms as Casey moved. And then Danny grunted and hit
his head back against the door again and came, hot and wet on Casey's
palm.
but instead twisted away, turned on the sink and washed his hands. In
his peripheral vision, he could see Dan buttoning his shirt again and
zipping his jeans. It was just Danny getting dressed, like in the
locker room after they played ball, except this time he had needed Casey
to help and Casey was just doing what a guy should when his partner
needed him. It wasn't like he'd never done this before. Not with
Dan,
sure, but not never, and Dan knew that. It wasn't a crazy thing to
ask. It wasn't a crazy thing to do. They weren't crazy.
mirror, Casey's eyes looked big and jaundiced. He was still kind of
hard and also a little queasy. He remembered the sound of Danny
throwing up and wondered if it would make him feel any better.
anything to say. Casey wanted a script. He turned around and Dan
was
looking at the floor, color high on his cheeks and hair a little messy.
He reached out to smooth down the spikes with his watery fingers and Dan
got very still. Casey touched Dan's shoulder and grabbed the door
handle beside his waist, turning it slowly, counting down.
knowing look. Casey felt himself blush and he moved away from Dan a
little. Dan glanced over at him and Casey just nodded and grabbed his
jacket off the chair. Dan followed him out and never even saw the guy
and Casey was a little embarrassed for Dan, for how naive Danny could
be, how sometimes he never saw what was happening right in front of him.
opened the door and looked back to Casey. Casey wasn't sure how
everything had ended so quickly or if they were even done yet. "You're
okay?" Casey asked, breath making little puffs against the dark.
shut behind him. The cab pulled away and Casey swallowed spring air and
cold exhaust.
scream for and shout for the underdog, for that three-pointer at the
buzzer, that home run with the bases loaded." Dan walked into the
office and Casey looked up from the computer where he'd been muttering
the script under his breath. Casey nodded and Dan cocked his head in
reply and Casey read the sentence aloud.
match. Three-point shooter. Home-run hitter." Dan was clearing leftover
notes and research off the table from the night before and it hadn't
been twelve hours, it wasn't yet half a day from when they'd left to go
anywhere but Anthony's and Casey wondered if he was supposed to say
something.
sentences. Danny typed better, and Casey was grammar guy. He was
off
his game.
"That all you've got?" Casey nodded. "We are so late." He
nodded
again, keeping his eyes on the screen. Dan seemed better, more calm,
and that had been the whole point.
"New York Jets over Baltimore, Superbowl III?"
and Casey added it to the list.
"Uh, what about UCLA-Notre Dame, '74, with Bill Walton and the
eighty-game streak?"
eleven, three minutes to go, Notre Dame goes full-court press, twelve
straight points --"
yeah, now we're talking. That's it."
his feet around under the desk. Dan was smiling like Casey hadn't seen
in weeks, like things were okay, and Casey smiled back and said, "Yeah,"
exhaled. He'd fallen in love with the underdogs once, back when he was
twelve and most of the Padres' single-A farm team lived in a boarding
house on his street and let him tag along to practice. They'd had the
worst record in the league, narrowed the gap with grit and guts, and
then they lost their focus, or their heart, or their mind, dropping
errors like beads of sweat in the sun of the bleacher seats.
on sports. Twenty-four feats of physical strength. "Milo of Crotona
carried a four-year-old ox," he read, "weighing about one ton, for six
hundred feet."
the length of two football fields."
"That doesn't count?"
of, uh, you know."
thumb. Freaked, he finished in his head. You freaked out, Danny,
but
it's okay. That's what friends are for.
guy like Dan, knowing Casey like he did, might be a little more careful
how he backed his way out of a situation. There was helping out an old
friend, and there was getting taken advantage of, and one was a hell of
a lot easier to get past than the other. Casey opened the book again.
"Sixth century B.C., some guy named Bybon threw a three hundred and
fifteen-pound sandstone over his head. Archaeologists found a
description inscribed on the rock."
so, you know, no way we're gonna have file footage. You gotta stay
focused, my friend."
strength. Casey McCall, late twentieth century, reigning champion of
the great dodge, focuses on something other than the feel of Dan's dick
in his hands. McCall wins the pennant! McCall wins the pennant!
held his ankles as he talked. "Casey, last night."
Really. I, uh, I'm gonna see if Jeremy finished his list yet."
worst-to-first in a single season and half of a Snickers. Casey chewed
on the candy bar and put his feet up on the editing desk.
fan," Casey said, playing with the knobs and levers on the chair. "I
mean, I love the Cubs. I rooted for the Broncos. First thing I taught
Charlie, before I even said to follow through and always keep the ball
in front of you, is that you always, always root for the underdog. You
got a choice, you go with the guy who's got the most heart and the worst
chance. I told him, you've gotta trust hope over experience every time,
because hope and heart is what's gonna win it for you."
problem is. We're not where we should be on this."
wasn't feeling reasonable.
resting his head and not thinking about the sweet, sweaty smell in the
crook of Dan's neck. Dan wouldn't think about things like that the
next day. Dan was focused. Dan wasn't like that, anyway. "I
mean, I
myself am an underdog. Right here, live specimen, get him while he's
fresh."
and look, now we're --"
shut down?"
if anyone gets to claim the title of underdog it's likely to be Dan."
was mid-windup, arm cocked behind his body, posture tight like a rubber
band. "Nah, that's just this thing he does to get attention."
sidekick."
guy, Casey?"
up. "I -- it's not, it's not the same. That's just what Danny does.
And, yeah, sometimes he yells a little about things like that stupid
list or, you know, who's asking the questions during interviews, but
it's not -- it's just Danny, being, you know, Danny."
anything, and after a while Casey wanted to say, "Right?" Even though
he knew he was right. He knew how Danny was, knew better than anyone.
Except something was wrong with Danny, something was a little sick, and
maybe Casey wasn't the best person to help out with that after all.
his weight as he looked down over Jeremy's shoulder, vantage point like
the green giant surveying all his land, Mussina still frozen with the
ball.
Dan was behind the computer and Casey pulled one of the rolling chairs
around to the other side of the desk. "Please tell me you got something
more from Jeremy."
forward, I'm fairly sure she never played sports. And, also, she lost."
edge of the desk. It was a heavy, antiqued bronze star that said "Don't
Mess With Texas." Darryl, the station manager, had given it to them
when they left, when no one thought they'd be able to make their
dog-and-pony show work in New York. "Don't worry," Darryl had said,
"those city people give you any shit, just remember there's no bigger
sports fan than a Texan, and you two did all right here." They let
themselves think that it could even be easy, because they had each other
to fall back on.
easy. "Uh, Roger Bannister and the '91 Twins."
Dan like he did. He knew Dan. He'd known Dan for a long time now,
and
that had to count for something.
mouth down as he thought. Casey wanted very badly to touch him and
didn't.
one. Forty-nine years with barely a winning season and then they open
'95 by beating Notre Dame, then they beat Michigan -- baby, we're
talking Michigan, not some little liberal arts school -- and go ten and
one to take it to Pasadena. Go Cats!"
Casey smiled. Dan's little routine, it was all one package, the
flailing and the grousing and the slow, serious smile that capped off
the end of the joke, the punchline revered above all. It took two to
tell a joke that well, and when they were in a groove, when they were
grooving, they always knew who was on first. It was their routine.
Dan shrugged. Casey shrugged.
weren't expected to win?"
history there was an underdog. And, frankly, Natalie, that's just way
too big a pool of candidates for us to handle right now."
one thought they would. And they went out there and played like they
would anyway. It's about having more courage. More heart."
Except Jeremy and Natalie were going to find their way back to each
other while everyone else was stuck making up stupid plans and getting
drunk.
But it's always a good story." She bobbed her head and smiled, turning
to leave. "We're meeting in twenty, okay?"
heart. "Hey," Casey called, and she came back. "Geraldine Ferraro?"
stretching my legs, my friend," he said, when he caught Casey's
questioning look. "Just stretching."
out of the umbrella stand they'd commandeered from the bullpen, took a
few warm-up swings. First thing Casey'd taught Charlie about batting
was the follow-through, the sure step and a solid swing all in one
smooth move, and don't forget to follow through. Danny had been there
with them, just three boys playing in the East Meadow like it was their
backyard, Casey pitching underhand from maybe 10 feet back, Dan kneeling
with his arms around Charlie's shoulders to help him hit the ball so no
one got too discouraged the first time out.
in his hands, and Casey ran his tongue around his mouth and checked the
list.
uh, the guy with the rock?"
his hands over it, twisting from side-to-side at the waist, just
stretching. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that had maybe been
dried on hot instead of fluff, the battered navy cotton a size or two
too small. With his arms like that, the shirt rode up over Danny's
belly. Dan had dark, almost black hair on his pale stomach and Casey
tried to remember if he'd been able to see that the night before, if
that's what all of Danny's skin and hair looked like. He wondered if
Danny was okay now.
himself. He'd been staring again. Danny was staring back, looking
cool, leaning on the bat like it was the kind of cane that went with a
top hat in old movies and it reminded Casey of that crazy old Gene Kelly
movie where Kelly played a ballplayer making a living as a hoofer in the
off-season. Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra and that woman who was always
swimming and singing. Esther Williams. Gene Kelly telling Esther
Williams that Frank was so lonely without her that he kept waking Gene
up in the middle of the night and kissing him.
"What?"
deep breath. "Here's the thing, Danny. I'm kind of used to being
the
guy you help. Not the, uh, other way. I'm not so good at figuring
out
these sort of things."
things?"
because, I mean, you still haven't really explained to me what's
happening with you."
he'd taken a shower with a guy, hot water fogging up the locker room
windows on an October evening after they'd stayed late at cross-country
practice, Casey had thrown up. Jason Patroni, a three-sport letterman,
had put an arm around him, crouched there on the floor of the little
stall, and said, "It's not that bad, man. It's not that bad."
Casey laid a firm hand on the desk and Dan stared down at his lap.
"Abby says I don't know how to relate to people except on TV."
would say." Dan rolled his eyes and flailed his hands.
hurt more than he'd remembered, "you don't think that's what it is? Is
it possible it's, like, something entirely else?"
Danny bounced the chair a little.