Striking Thirteen

by Waldo

Dan wondered how they’d gotten from water dripping on his bed to how cold Helsinki was in June to why they weren’t sleeping together any more. Sometimes his life just moved to fast. And it tended to do so when he was least able to keep up with it.

Title: Striking Thirteen
Author: Waldo.
Fandom: Sports Night
Words: 2762
Rating: R
Summary: Dan wondered why they were discussing this now. How they'd gotten from water dripping on his bed to how cold Helsinki was in June to why they weren't fucking each other any more to why Casey and Lisa were never going to work out. Sometimes his life just moved to fast. And it tended to do so when he was least able to keep up with it.
Notes: I now know more about Helsinki than I ever expected to. I do not, know however; if they'd ever have the World Cup there. It's bloody cold all year. But hey, it's fiction.

Striking Thirteen
by Waldo.

Dan couldn't imagine a worse assignment, in a worse town, on a worse day.

First of all, it was the World Cup. Soccer. Dan just couldn't wrap his brain around the game. Sure, he understood the rules, had a moderate appreciation for the fashion, but he just couldn't understand why the whole damn world got worked up over soccer.

Second of all they were in Helsinki. A town half the staff of CSC couldn't find on a map. And they were seven hours ahead of New York and the jet lag was killing him.

And it was raining. Pouring slush actually. It was fucking Helsinki, which meant the mean temperature was just about freezing on the Fahrenheit scale. Who the hell played soccer in freezing rain?

It was raining, it was Finland and it was soccer. The world didn't get much worse than this.

Dan was silent as Casey argued with the desk clerk who spoke little more English than "Visa or Master Card?"

"No," Casey was saying again. "I called three days ago. Tuesday. Three days," he held up his fingers. "We need two rooms." He held up the appropriate digits on the other hand, causing the confused clerk to look back and forth between his hands. "Dan Rydell," Casey pointed, "and Casey McCall. Two rooms."

The girl pecked at the computer again. "One room. We have for you one room."

Dan let his head thump against the high counter, but continued to let Casey argue for them both.

"It is big room," Johanna tried to appease him. "Two beds. Big bathroom. Tomorrow we can see if there is two rooms."

"Just take it Case, I'm too damn tired to care right now," Danny muttered into the polished marble. "We can try and sort it out tomorrow."

Casey sighed and leveled the girl with a stare she really didn't deserve. She was a desk clerk, not a reservations agent, after all. "Fine. One room. For tonight." Casey took both keys that she offered and trudged off for the elevators, Dan in his wake.

"I cannot believe how tired I am. I don't think I've slept in like three days," Danny muttered as they waited for the elevator.

"I believe it. Off the air at midnight, on the plane at ten, our time, twelve hours in transit, including the lay-over in London. So when we hit the ground it was ten at night at home. But we're seven hours ahead here, so it's five at night. Then baggage and customs, with most of the soccer watching world, and the cab ride out here to the hotel. So it's nine o'clock here, and two in the afternoon at home. But since we haven't slept since noon two days ago…"

"Ow. My head," Dan complained to cut him off. "That's way too many numbers for this indecent hour. Whichever hour that is."

"It's only two in the afternoon," Casey said cheekily.

"Fuck you," Dan replied evenly.

Casey raised an eyebrow. Sometimes Danny could be hard to read. This was looking to shape up into one of those times.

The elevator eventually deposited them into the hall of the top floor of the hotel. "nine-seventeen, nine-seventeen, nine-seventeen," Casey muttered as they walked down the hall looking for their room.

They found it, put their bags by the window, stripped down to their boxers and t-shirts and passed out without another word.

Plip.

Plip.

Plip.

Danny opened one eye. Something was plipping onto his bed. He could hear the periodic plips that came just before something softly struck his blanket.

"Fuck."

He sat up and looked up to see a large waterspot on the ceiling, and caught a drop of cold water in the face for his trouble. "Ah hell!"

That was enough to wake Casey up.

"Wha' 're ya makin' noise abou'?" he muttered into his pillow.

"Nothin', Case. Sorry."

Casey sighed and rolled over. 'Nothin' my ass, he thought. "Want to try that again. You're pissed about something."

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it." Dan's voice was tight, like he was keeping a tight reign on his emotions, but only being somewhat successful about it.

Dan got out of bed, suddenly needing to wash his face.

When he came back out, a low light was on and Casey was sitting up on one side of his bed. "Is the ceiling leaking on your bed?" he asked, despite the fact that it was extremely obvious that that was exactly what was happening.

"Typical, huh?" Dan asked. "Even when I'm not getting any, I have to sleep in the wet spot."

Casey smiled a genuine smile. Dan had been sullen and snappish since somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, so it was good to hear that trademark snark sneak back in.

Casey held up the edge of the blanket on his bed. "Come on."

Dan looked back and forth between the puddle accumulating on his comforter and the spot next to Casey.

"Come on," Casey invited again.

"That's probably not such a good idea, Case."

"You afraid I'm going to launch into the St. Crispen's Day speech again?"

Dan let his shoulders slump, but didn't acknowledge Casey. As far as he knew this was the first time Casey had talked about, possibly even the first time he'd thought about, the night they'd both gotten ass-drunk in Minnesota, wherein Casey had recited Shakespeare, loudly, and then they'd ended up in bed together. Without the boxers.

Dan sank into one of the miserably uncomfortable canvas-covered chairs at the table by the window. "I'm afraid that tonight I'm so damn tired and so damn…" he shook his head. "I have no defenses tonight, Case. That probably sounds like something out of a bad romance novel, but I'm dead tired and everything I'm feeling…" he didn't finish the sentence, just turned to stare out the window. Apropos to nothing he mentioned, "It's almost 11:00 here and there's still a little pink and dark blue in the sky."

"We're pretty far north," Casey answered, finding the non-sequitor the easiest thing to answer. He took a deep breath and sighed. They were far too tired to have the discussion they were teetering on. But it was also possible that only sleep-deprivation induced poor judgment would compensate for the alcohol-induced poor judgment in Minnesota.

"It's June," Dan muttered. "It's June and it's butt-fucking cold and it never gets dark. This place is seriously screwed up."

Casey didn't say anything to that.

"It was a cold, bright day in June and the clocks were striking thirteen," Danny quoted.

"1984," Casey said. "Yeah, it does feel a little like that. And it was April, not June."

"I was changing the quote to suit the circumstances."

Casey nodded.

When Dan looked out the window again, he could see a few of the brighter stars shining through the end of the interminable day. "'We are bits of stellar matter that got cold by accident, bits of a star gone wrong.'"

Casey sighed and decided to cut to the chase. "Danny, are you okay?"

Dan nodded, but didn't say anything.

"I didn't think so." Casey got out of bed and wrapped the comforter around his shoulders as he sat across the small table from Danny.

"I said I was fine," Dan retorted, not looking at Casey.

"No you didn't. You didn't say anything. That way I can't accuse you of lying."

Dan crossed his arms across his chest, wishing he had comforter to wrap up in. His was so soaked that the plip, plip of before was now a splot, splot as water hit accumulated water instead of damp fabric.

Casey wanted to ask why tonight, why when they were bone tired from traveling, did Dan want to hash out that night so long ago. Well, if they were going to get any more sleep, he was going to have to start the conversation. If nothing else, the sooner they started it, the sooner it would be over. "Danny, look, I know we decided back there in Minnesota that we-"

"You don't get it, do you?"

Casey looked up, startled at the harshness in Danny's tone. "Get what?"

"We didn't decide anything. You woke up and said, 'I didn't mean to do that,' and went into the bathroom to throw up!"

Casey slumped back in his chair. "The vomiting wasn't your fault. It was Jim Beam's. You knew that, right?"

Danny shrugged and Casey got his first glimpse of how differently Danny viewed that night. "Right?" he pressed, praying that Dan hadn't been living all this time with the idea that Casey got ill from the idea of the two of them having sex.

"Sure, Case," Dan said flatly.

Casey scrubbed at his face. "Oh man…" He leaned his elbows on the table and covered his face.

"Danny…" he reached across the table, but couldn't reach Dan's hand. He lightly brushed his arm. "Danny, I was hung-over."

Dan nodded but didn't say anything.

"And I was engaged."

"I knew that. You said I was a mistake. I get it."

Casey closed his eyes and prayed for a divine bout of patience, because he knew his own mortal supply was going to run out quickly if he had to wade through Dan's self-worth landmines on top of everything else. "I said that what we did was a mistake. Don't … don't do that!"

"What?" Dan snapped.

"Don't make it sound like… like it was personal. I shouldn't have been sleeping with anyone else. It wasn't because you were a guy, or because it was you… It was because I was supposed to be with Lisa."

When Danny nodded this time, Casey knew he he'd gotten through and that Danny was feeling a little abashed that he'd cast Casey in such an abominable light.

"Danny, when I said that we couldn't… that I couldn't continue to have that kind of relationship with you, you seemed okay with it. Why do I think now that, maybe you weren't so much?"

Dan snorted. "Case, you rolled out of bed, threw up, called it a mistake and said that if Lisa found out, she'd kill you. What was I supposed to do, start hatching some nefarious plot to kill Lisa so I could have you all for myself? You're a big boy, if you wanted to be with Lisa, what was I going to say?"

"As I recall, you said plenty." Danny had never been shy in regards to announcing how much he disliked Lisa.

"And I know that now it all looks like nothing more than jealousy, but Casey, it wasn't. She was no. good. for. you. I just wish you'd seen it before you married her." Dan wondered why they were discussing this now. How they'd gotten from water dripping on his bed to how cold Helsinki was in June to why they weren't fucking each other any more to why Casey and Lisa were never going to work out. Dan rested his head on his folded arms on the table. Sometimes his life just moved to fast. And it tended to do so when he was least able to keep up with it.

Without looking up, Dan said, "Look, Case, just because I can be equally as happy dating a man or a woman doesn't mean you have to be. It's okay that you aren't interested in me like that." He suddenly remembered how they'd gotten to their point in the conversation, "But when I get really tired like this, it's kind of hard not to want, you know? And getting this conversation back where it started, these are the times I've learned that I'm better off keeping some distance. It makes it easier to keep perspective."

"There never seemed like a right time to ask if you still felt that way. Right after Lisa and the divorce, everyone was shoving Dana in my face. And then you and Rebecca."

"Don't feel sorry me!" Dan yelled, suddenly sitting up straight.

Casey sighed. "That wasn't what I meant."

"Then why now? Why when we're both about as clear-headed as we were in Minnesota are you trying to do this now?"

"Because it came up. Because since we were in Minnesota it's never come up! And I admit that that's mostly my fault, but it was the first chance I've had and the first time I've felt brave enough to try and make something of it. Because it's … who the hell knows what time it is, or what time it feels like and I'd really like for you to get in that damn bed with me so I can go back to sleep and I'd like you do it without freaking out if we end up next to each other, or god-forbid, touching in our sleep!"

Casey took a deep breath, certain that he'd done absolutely nothing but make things worse.

"Seriously?" Dan asked, a slight smile on his face.

"Seriously," Casey said, shocked that Dan wasn't either half way out the door or screaming back.

"Now can we just share the fucking bed and leave the heavy conversation for a time when we've had some sleep… and maybe a beer or two?"

Dan smiled softly at his partner. "I suppose," he relented.

As they crawled in, Casey fixed the blankets over them both. "Since you seem to be in the mood to quote everyone and their brother tonight, I've got one for you: 'We should be careful to get out of an experience only the wisdom that is in it--and stop there; lest we be like the cat that sits down on a hot stove lid. She will never sit on a hot stove lid again--and that is well; but also she will never sit down on a cold one anymore.'"

"Twain," Danny replied.

"Yeah, with the moral of the story being, 'don't take out of what I say, something I didn't say. Don't assume that because back then I was an ass about it, that I'm going to always be an ass about it.' I never said you were a mistake. And I never said that I was uncomfortable with the idea of being with you. You never asked."

Dan settled in on his side. "I assumed, that after… that you knew how I felt."

Casey snuggled up behind him, dropped one arm over his partner's waist and said, "Well we all know the famous quote about assuming making an ass out of you and me."

Danny nodded. "I thought we were leaving the serious conversation for after sleep and beer."

Casey snuggled Dan in close, "I just wanted to be sure you didn't think I was feeling sorry for you any more."

Danny squeezed the hand resting on his stomach. "Sorry about that. Defense mechanism. Get pissed before I can get hurt."

"Yeah," Casey agreed. "I've seen that one a few times. We okay?"

"We're okay," Dan agreed.

"We gonna see about getting another room tomorrow?"

"I don't mind sharing a room… but maybe we can ask for one without its own weather forecast."

Casey laughed as they both drifted off.

Quotes from the story:

"It was a cold, bright day in April and the clocks were striking thirteen."
George Orwell (1903 - 1950) ,"1984", first sentence

"We are bits of stellar matter that got cold by accident, bits of a star gone wrong."
Sir Arthur Eddington (1882 - 1944)

"We should be careful to get out of an experience only the wisdom that is in it--and stop there; lest we be like the cat that sits down on a hot stove lid. She will never sit on a hot stove lid again--and that is well; but also she will never sit down on a cold one anymore."
Mark Twain (1835 - 1910)

"You know what they say about assuming: It makes and ass out of you and me."
My dad (at least that's where I heard it first, I can't find a documented original source.