Normalcy

Author: Oro

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Aaron Sorkin doesn't write Danny/Jeremy slash.

Notes: Due to demands… more Danny/Jeremy.

Jeremy would find himself, oftentimes, staring somewhat blankly, somewhat longingly at the television screen while the show is on, when he should be working. He would find his glance constantly fixed on the lights and colors, and a certain face, and he would be unable to look away. His eyes would search for those places wet with his own kisses, possible signs of his betrayal on Dan's collar, his skin, his expression. Natalie would look at him worriedly, affectionately, giving his arm a light squeeze. He would smile back apologetically and go back to researching information for the next fill.

But Danny is a professional; his shirt would be straightened and tucked-in in advance, everything tucked in, expression sealed and makeup carefully applied on skin. He would ignore Jeremy's lame fill info and throw in a witty comment instead, because he never does use it: just apologizes later between frantic kisses at three in the morning.

Sometimes there would be sex; in the men's room, in Danny and Casey's office, at Danny's, Jeremy's, before or after the show, one time in the middle of the show when the power went out. Dan's moans in reply to Jeremy's touch, or Jeremy's cries at the feeling of Danny's tongue on his body; and it would feel so good, wrong, guilty, exciting, secret. So damn good. And no one would know.

And the nights make those seemingly unbearable days so much more bearable: until he breaks up with Natalie. Natalie breaks up with him. Someone breaks up with someone, and one of the people involved is Jeremy. It's known to have happened once (twice, according to Jeremy's logic) and he doesn't take it too seriously, at all. It's not because he has Dan but because he knows he'll get back together with Natalie.

Only he doesn't, and he's selfish, and ambivalent, and. And Danny says he hates being in second place: always waiting, always half-expecting to go back to being the other woman, man, person, always on the other side of Jeremy's normalcy. Fast, angry sex and something that's missing; they start calling it fuck. And Danny says "fuck me," which he does, and "fuck you," after which he always goes away (always comes back the next day, but does it really matter?). No more random kisses in dark corners of the office, and it's all too fast, too fast for Jeremy to say: you are not in second place.

FIN