He should have taken an umbrella but he'd only remembered it was raining when he was half way to the exit and if he'd gone back it would have ruined the drama of the thing. You can't storm out and then storm back in thirty seconds later, it's just not done. So he's outside in his shirt-sleeves, light blue cotton slowly staining dark, hands shoved in pockets, stomping along the sidewalk with water dripping from the end of his nose. That's just one more thing to add to the shopping-list of annoyances that he's already feeling. Goddamn it, he doesn't even know where he's going. His wallet is snug and dry on the counter and it's too far to walk to his apartment. So he makes a left and then another left and then another one and he's circling the building like some kind of very irritated bird of prey. He wonders if he seethes enough the water will start to steam off his body. He really hopes so.
It's on his fifth lap of the building that he starts to feel the rain trickling down his leg inside his pants and admits that he's going to have to go back in and that Casey's somehow going to turn Dan's unpreparedness into capitulation. And that does not make him happy because it had been a reasonable request and Casey had just blanked him. Spun him off as if he was an autograph hunter in a bar.
"We should tell Charlie," Dan had said.
"No," said Casey and that, as far as he was concerned, was that.
Dan had laid out the arguments one by one, the length of time they'd been together, his own relationship with Charlie, Charlie's intelligence, the potential for damage that lies cause and to each Casey had just said, "No." He'd even refused to have a proper argument about it. No wonder Dan is so mad. He scowls at the memory and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets though they're as wet there now as they would be if he took them out.
Rounding the corner of the building as he completes his fifth circuit, Dan spies a lonely figure, red umbrella illuminated by the street light above. It's Casey. Of course, it's Casey. Dan halts and Casey comes towards him, proffering the jacket that he's been holding over his arm. He holds the umbrella over Dan, they have to stand close and Dan's dripping onto Casey but he doesn't seem to mind.
"You know," says Casey, "It takes you about four and a half minutes to get all the way round the building. You were a little faster the first time, but then I think the extra pounds the rain gave you slowed you down."
"You've been timing me?"
"Well I had to do something while I was making sure you didn't disappear on me, didn't I?"
"And you let me go round five times before you brought out the umbrella?"
"I thought you might need time to calm down."
"And you thought 'hell, why not get a wet t-shirt contest of one thrown in for free'?"
"That too." Casey leans his head back a little and leers affectionately at Dan's chest, the clinging shirt leaving nothing to the imagination. "Come up, Danny, we'll get you out of those wet clothes." He touches Dan's elbow.
"Aren't you supposed to say 'and into some dry ones'?"
"Now that would just be spoiling it." Casey smiles and Dan has to work hard to stop an answering one appearing on his face.
"I'm mad at you, Casey."
"I know. Come up."
"Really mad."
"I know. Come up."
"I'm not having sex with you."
"Whatever you say, Danny."
"This isn't over."
"It never is."
"Will you make me hot chocolate?"
"With marshmallows if you want."
Dan looks out from under the umbrella, sees the rain sheeting down, glinting silver in the light from the street lamp. He looks back at Casey whose lips are smiling but whose eyes are contrite and decides what the hell? It's not the first time they've had this not-fight and it won't be the last. He tucks his arm through Casey's and they head for the warm and dry.
"You have to pick out all the pink ones, they taste funky," he says and Casey clips him around the head with a wet slap as the door swings closed behind them.
Stormy Weather, Sports Night, Dan/Casey, rain, PG
He should have taken an umbrella but he'd only remembered it was raining when he was half way to the exit and if he'd gone back it would have ruined the drama of the thing. You can't storm out and then storm back in thirty seconds later, it's just not done. So he's outside in his shirt-sleeves, light blue cotton slowly staining dark, hands shoved in pockets, stomping along the sidewalk with water dripping from the end of his nose. That's just one more thing to add to the shopping-list of annoyances that he's already feeling. Goddamn it, he doesn't even know where he's going. His wallet is snug and dry on the counter and it's too far to walk to his apartment. So he makes a left and then another left and then another one and he's circling the building like some kind of very irritated bird of prey. He wonders if he seethes enough the water will start to steam off his body. He really hopes so.
It's on his fifth lap of the building that he starts to feel the rain trickling down his leg inside his pants and admits that he's going to have to go back in and that Casey's somehow going to turn Dan's unpreparedness into capitulation. And that does not make him happy because it had been a reasonable request and Casey had just blanked him. Spun him off as if he was an autograph hunter in a bar.
"We should tell Charlie," Dan had said.
"No," said Casey and that, as far as he was concerned, was that.
Dan had laid out the arguments one by one, the length of time they'd been together, his own relationship with Charlie, Charlie's intelligence, the potential for damage that lies cause and to each Casey had just said, "No." He'd even refused to have a proper argument about it. No wonder Dan is so mad. He scowls at the memory and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets though they're as wet there now as they would be if he took them out.
Rounding the corner of the building as he completes his fifth circuit, Dan spies a lonely figure, red umbrella illuminated by the street light above. It's Casey. Of course, it's Casey. Dan halts and Casey comes towards him, proffering the jacket that he's been holding over his arm. He holds the umbrella over Dan, they have to stand close and Dan's dripping onto Casey but he doesn't seem to mind.
"You know," says Casey, "It takes you about four and a half minutes to get all the way round the building. You were a little faster the first time, but then I think the extra pounds the rain gave you slowed you down."
"You've been timing me?"
"Well I had to do something while I was making sure you didn't disappear on me, didn't I?"
"And you let me go round five times before you brought out the umbrella?"
"I thought you might need time to calm down."
"And you thought 'hell, why not get a wet t-shirt contest of one thrown in for free'?"
"That too." Casey leans his head back a little and leers affectionately at Dan's chest, the clinging shirt leaving nothing to the imagination. "Come up, Danny, we'll get you out of those wet clothes." He touches Dan's elbow.
"Aren't you supposed to say 'and into some dry ones'?"
"Now that would just be spoiling it." Casey smiles and Dan has to work hard to stop an answering one appearing on his face.
"I'm mad at you, Casey."
"I know. Come up."
"Really mad."
"I know. Come up."
"I'm not having sex with you."
"Whatever you say, Danny."
"This isn't over."
"It never is."
"Will you make me hot chocolate?"
"With marshmallows if you want."
Dan looks out from under the umbrella, sees the rain sheeting down, glinting silver in the light from the street lamp. He looks back at Casey whose lips are smiling but whose eyes are contrite and decides what the hell? It's not the first time they've had this not-fight and it won't be the last. He tucks his arm through Casey's and they head for the warm and dry.
"You have to pick out all the pink ones, they taste funky," he says and Casey clips him around the head with a wet slap as the door swings closed behind them.