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Mar. 23rd, 2010 10:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
helsinkibabySo, I was going to say "I have no Dan to give my friend ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
maggis," and then I actually looked in my writing folder. And I found this, which I don't think I've ever posted and I frankly don't even remember writing. Yet, there it is. Who knew?
Title: Just Like Always
Author: helsinkibaby
Fandom: Sports Night
Pairing: Dan/Natalie
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,692
Spoilers: Post ep to the one where Jeremy and Natalie broke up.
Dan Rydell was in a good mood as he walked into his apartment complex, so happy that he was even whistling. Off-key, it must be said, and nowhere near in the same league as the vocal stylings of the great Tom Waits, but still a definite whistle, still the mark of one who has just seen one of his favourite musicians in a small and intimate venue, in the greatest city in the world.
Who wouldn’t be whistling after a night like that?
Jauntily, he nodded at Charlie, slowing his gait on his way past the night doorman’s chair, ready for their nightly exchange. He intended to ask him all about that night’s show – because really, much as he adored Natalie for saving his night off, Steve Sarris didn’t come with the best of reputations, and Casey’s earlier ambivalence hadn’t been entirely unwarranted – but to his surprise, before he could say anything, Charlie jutted his chin in the direction of the far corner of the lobby.
“Visitor for you Mr Rydell.”
Visitors at that hour of the morning were something of a rarity, and Dan turned in surprise, even more surprised to see Natalie curled up in one of the over-sized chairs, knees drawn up to her chin, eyes closed, apparently dead to the world. Frowning, because she sure as hell wasn’t supposed to be there, Dan nodded his thanks to Charlie, crossing the lobby in a few quick, concerned steps, squatting down beside Natalie and rubbing her upper arm gently. “Natalie,” he said softly. “Wake up.” Absently, he noted that her head was bent at an unnatural angle, that her neck must be killing her, knowing that for sure when her eyes opened and she sat bolt upright, wincing as she moved. “Hey, it’s ok,” he told her, not taking his hand from her arm. “Take your time…”
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she mumbled, looking anywhere but at him as she righted herself on the chair. “Charlie said that I could wait in here for you, and I guess I just closed my eyes for a second and…”
“Nat…” Her eyes locked with his as he stopped her with a syllable of her name and one hand held up. He had a thousand questions to ask her, starting with why wasn’t she at Club 61, and where was Jeremy, but they died on his lips when he saw the look in her eyes. Taking a deep breath, he stood up, holding out his hand to her. “Want to come up?”
The barest hint of a smile touched her lips, but didn’t travel past them. “Sure,” she breathed, standing up with difficulty with the help of his hand.
Her ice-cold hand didn’t move from his during the elevator ride, nor during the short walk from the elevator to his door. Only when he was sliding the key into the lock did she let his hand fall, wrapping her arms around herself as he let her walk in ahead of him. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he observed, keeping his voice deliberately light and conversational as he hung up his coat. “Isn’t it early for Club 61 to be letting out?”
“A little,” she allowed, taking off her coat and hanging it up neatly over his. “How was Tom Waits?”
“Pretty amazing,” Dan responded with a chuckle, but he didn’t miss that she was trying to change the subject. Nor did he miss the fact that she was still wearing the clothes she’d been wearing earlier on that day, a fact that spoke volumes. “How was the party?” he asked, this time less friendly-conversational, more friendly-interviewer conversational and she visibly bristled.
Still though, when she spoke, her voice was calm. “Club 61’s over-rated,” was all she said, all she needed to say to have him raising an eyebrow.
“I’ll take ‘Words I never thought I’d hear Natalie say’ for a thousand, Alex,” he quipped, regretting it when she looked down, regretting it even more when she looked back up again, sweeping past him into the living room. “OK, no Jeopardy jokes tonight,” he muttered to himself as he followed her.
“Hey, you got a new couch.” When he walked into the living room, it was the Natalie of old that he saw, the Natalie that he’d begged on his knees to take Casey shopping, the Natalie who had been so looking forward to tonight’s party. The livewire who loved her job, loved her life, who was, at present, literally bouncing from one couch cushion to the other, checking how comfortable they were, doubtless in order to mark out one as “her” seat.
“Well, a friend kept telling me the other one was ugly,” he replied, remembering how he’d disagreed, been so attached to the battered old thing that had come all the way from Dallas with him.
“She was right.” Natalie’s response was instant, her smile genuine, and having found the perfect seat, she leaned back, looked up at the ceiling. “I could get used to this.”
“Once upon a time, you did.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and along with them, a thousand memories.
She smiled sadly, turning her head to look at him. “That was a long time ago.”
Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear her, and he nodded, because he knew that she was right. “You haven’t been here in a while,” he reminded her. She hadn’t been here since she began seeing Jeremy, and even before that, it had been months since it was anything regular. They’d never discussed it, but the unspoken agreement was that it was their secret, water under the bridge for both of them, in the past and best left there.
He just didn’t know why she was here tonight, and when she looked down again, then looked away from him, out the window, he knew that she wasn’t going to talk about it.
Still though, he found himself sitting down beside her, close enough to touch, but restraining himself. “Natalie… did something happen? Did someone hurt you?”
He couldn’t help but remember Christian Patrick, the look that she’d had in her eyes as he’d handed her an ice pack for her arm, a look that was very reminiscent of the one she was wearing right now, right down to the soft smile that didn’t fool him a bit. “No, Danny,” she whispered. “Not like that…”
He nodded, hearing the words she wasn’t saying.
“Fight with Jeremy?”
A terse nod from her.
“He didn’t want to go to the club.”
Another nod, and she wasn’t looking at him.
“You’ll get over it,” he assured her. “You’ve had fights before… you’ll get over this.”
She nodded, but when she looked at him, her eyes screamed her doubts, and her words avoided the issue completely. “I just didn’t want to go home tonight,” she said, and just like always, he heard what she hadn’t said.
“You want to stay here?” He paused, gave her just enough time to nod, before following up with, “I still have your favourite Dartmouth shirt…” Just like always, the promise made her smile, and he stood, once more extending his hand to her. “Come on… I’ll get it for you.”
The shirt was where it always was, at the bottom of the bottom drawer of his dresser, freshly folded and laundered, and he wondered briefly if it had been waiting for her all this time. Then, shaking his head to clear it of such thoughts, surely, he thought, the results of a little too much Tom Waits, he went to the guest room, found her sitting on the bed, hands clasped in her lap.
“There you go,” he said, laying it down beside her. She looked at him for a second, then at the shirt, and he nodded, taking a step back, then another. “You know where everything is…” he told her, walking backwards all the while. “If you need anything…”
He was at the door when her quiet “Danny?” stopped him.
“Yeah?”
“Just… thank you. For everything.”
He held her gaze for a long moment before speaking. “You’re welcome.”
Another long moment before he let the door close behind him, another still before he walked the long few steps to his room, where he stripped down to boxers and a t-shirt, brushed his teeth before falling into bed. Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep, but all he could think about was Natalie, how she’d looked sleeping in the lobby downstairs, the look in her eyes as she’d sat on his couch studiously avoiding his gaze, how she must look now, sleeping in the room next door. Restlessly, he turned over, punching his pillow in an effort to make it more comfortable, and that’s when he heard it; the distinctive sound of his bedroom door opening.
Propping himself up on one arm, he reached out, snapping on the light with the other. Natalie was standing in the doorway, Dartmouth shirt still too big for her, falling to just above her knees, a look on her face that was pure embarrassment, with the tiniest hint of bravado. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her, and she sighed, tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear.
“I… I can’t sleep alone anymore,” she said simply.
Wordlessly, he scooted back, lifting up the covers, and she took the invitation, bare feet padding across the room, slipping in beside him. Lying on her side, her back was to him, and after a second’s thought, he reached out and put his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He thought she might resist, but she went willingly, her hand closing over his, just like it always had.
Carefully, he reached up, brushed her hair back, smoothing it down before leaning in, brushing a kiss across the top of her head. “Good night Natalie,” he murmured, just like always, and just like always, her hand squeezed his.
Just like always, Natalie’s breathing evened out first, and just like always, it wasn’t long before Dan joined her in dreamless sleep.
maggis," and then I actually looked in my writing folder. And I found this, which I don't think I've ever posted and I frankly don't even remember writing. Yet, there it is. Who knew?Title: Just Like Always
Author: helsinkibaby
Fandom: Sports Night
Pairing: Dan/Natalie
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,692
Spoilers: Post ep to the one where Jeremy and Natalie broke up.
Dan Rydell was in a good mood as he walked into his apartment complex, so happy that he was even whistling. Off-key, it must be said, and nowhere near in the same league as the vocal stylings of the great Tom Waits, but still a definite whistle, still the mark of one who has just seen one of his favourite musicians in a small and intimate venue, in the greatest city in the world.
Who wouldn’t be whistling after a night like that?
Jauntily, he nodded at Charlie, slowing his gait on his way past the night doorman’s chair, ready for their nightly exchange. He intended to ask him all about that night’s show – because really, much as he adored Natalie for saving his night off, Steve Sarris didn’t come with the best of reputations, and Casey’s earlier ambivalence hadn’t been entirely unwarranted – but to his surprise, before he could say anything, Charlie jutted his chin in the direction of the far corner of the lobby.
“Visitor for you Mr Rydell.”
Visitors at that hour of the morning were something of a rarity, and Dan turned in surprise, even more surprised to see Natalie curled up in one of the over-sized chairs, knees drawn up to her chin, eyes closed, apparently dead to the world. Frowning, because she sure as hell wasn’t supposed to be there, Dan nodded his thanks to Charlie, crossing the lobby in a few quick, concerned steps, squatting down beside Natalie and rubbing her upper arm gently. “Natalie,” he said softly. “Wake up.” Absently, he noted that her head was bent at an unnatural angle, that her neck must be killing her, knowing that for sure when her eyes opened and she sat bolt upright, wincing as she moved. “Hey, it’s ok,” he told her, not taking his hand from her arm. “Take your time…”
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she mumbled, looking anywhere but at him as she righted herself on the chair. “Charlie said that I could wait in here for you, and I guess I just closed my eyes for a second and…”
“Nat…” Her eyes locked with his as he stopped her with a syllable of her name and one hand held up. He had a thousand questions to ask her, starting with why wasn’t she at Club 61, and where was Jeremy, but they died on his lips when he saw the look in her eyes. Taking a deep breath, he stood up, holding out his hand to her. “Want to come up?”
The barest hint of a smile touched her lips, but didn’t travel past them. “Sure,” she breathed, standing up with difficulty with the help of his hand.
Her ice-cold hand didn’t move from his during the elevator ride, nor during the short walk from the elevator to his door. Only when he was sliding the key into the lock did she let his hand fall, wrapping her arms around herself as he let her walk in ahead of him. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he observed, keeping his voice deliberately light and conversational as he hung up his coat. “Isn’t it early for Club 61 to be letting out?”
“A little,” she allowed, taking off her coat and hanging it up neatly over his. “How was Tom Waits?”
“Pretty amazing,” Dan responded with a chuckle, but he didn’t miss that she was trying to change the subject. Nor did he miss the fact that she was still wearing the clothes she’d been wearing earlier on that day, a fact that spoke volumes. “How was the party?” he asked, this time less friendly-conversational, more friendly-interviewer conversational and she visibly bristled.
Still though, when she spoke, her voice was calm. “Club 61’s over-rated,” was all she said, all she needed to say to have him raising an eyebrow.
“I’ll take ‘Words I never thought I’d hear Natalie say’ for a thousand, Alex,” he quipped, regretting it when she looked down, regretting it even more when she looked back up again, sweeping past him into the living room. “OK, no Jeopardy jokes tonight,” he muttered to himself as he followed her.
“Hey, you got a new couch.” When he walked into the living room, it was the Natalie of old that he saw, the Natalie that he’d begged on his knees to take Casey shopping, the Natalie who had been so looking forward to tonight’s party. The livewire who loved her job, loved her life, who was, at present, literally bouncing from one couch cushion to the other, checking how comfortable they were, doubtless in order to mark out one as “her” seat.
“Well, a friend kept telling me the other one was ugly,” he replied, remembering how he’d disagreed, been so attached to the battered old thing that had come all the way from Dallas with him.
“She was right.” Natalie’s response was instant, her smile genuine, and having found the perfect seat, she leaned back, looked up at the ceiling. “I could get used to this.”
“Once upon a time, you did.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and along with them, a thousand memories.
She smiled sadly, turning her head to look at him. “That was a long time ago.”
Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear her, and he nodded, because he knew that she was right. “You haven’t been here in a while,” he reminded her. She hadn’t been here since she began seeing Jeremy, and even before that, it had been months since it was anything regular. They’d never discussed it, but the unspoken agreement was that it was their secret, water under the bridge for both of them, in the past and best left there.
He just didn’t know why she was here tonight, and when she looked down again, then looked away from him, out the window, he knew that she wasn’t going to talk about it.
Still though, he found himself sitting down beside her, close enough to touch, but restraining himself. “Natalie… did something happen? Did someone hurt you?”
He couldn’t help but remember Christian Patrick, the look that she’d had in her eyes as he’d handed her an ice pack for her arm, a look that was very reminiscent of the one she was wearing right now, right down to the soft smile that didn’t fool him a bit. “No, Danny,” she whispered. “Not like that…”
He nodded, hearing the words she wasn’t saying.
“Fight with Jeremy?”
A terse nod from her.
“He didn’t want to go to the club.”
Another nod, and she wasn’t looking at him.
“You’ll get over it,” he assured her. “You’ve had fights before… you’ll get over this.”
She nodded, but when she looked at him, her eyes screamed her doubts, and her words avoided the issue completely. “I just didn’t want to go home tonight,” she said, and just like always, he heard what she hadn’t said.
“You want to stay here?” He paused, gave her just enough time to nod, before following up with, “I still have your favourite Dartmouth shirt…” Just like always, the promise made her smile, and he stood, once more extending his hand to her. “Come on… I’ll get it for you.”
The shirt was where it always was, at the bottom of the bottom drawer of his dresser, freshly folded and laundered, and he wondered briefly if it had been waiting for her all this time. Then, shaking his head to clear it of such thoughts, surely, he thought, the results of a little too much Tom Waits, he went to the guest room, found her sitting on the bed, hands clasped in her lap.
“There you go,” he said, laying it down beside her. She looked at him for a second, then at the shirt, and he nodded, taking a step back, then another. “You know where everything is…” he told her, walking backwards all the while. “If you need anything…”
He was at the door when her quiet “Danny?” stopped him.
“Yeah?”
“Just… thank you. For everything.”
He held her gaze for a long moment before speaking. “You’re welcome.”
Another long moment before he let the door close behind him, another still before he walked the long few steps to his room, where he stripped down to boxers and a t-shirt, brushed his teeth before falling into bed. Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep, but all he could think about was Natalie, how she’d looked sleeping in the lobby downstairs, the look in her eyes as she’d sat on his couch studiously avoiding his gaze, how she must look now, sleeping in the room next door. Restlessly, he turned over, punching his pillow in an effort to make it more comfortable, and that’s when he heard it; the distinctive sound of his bedroom door opening.
Propping himself up on one arm, he reached out, snapping on the light with the other. Natalie was standing in the doorway, Dartmouth shirt still too big for her, falling to just above her knees, a look on her face that was pure embarrassment, with the tiniest hint of bravado. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her, and she sighed, tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear.
“I… I can’t sleep alone anymore,” she said simply.
Wordlessly, he scooted back, lifting up the covers, and she took the invitation, bare feet padding across the room, slipping in beside him. Lying on her side, her back was to him, and after a second’s thought, he reached out and put his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He thought she might resist, but she went willingly, her hand closing over his, just like it always had.
Carefully, he reached up, brushed her hair back, smoothing it down before leaning in, brushing a kiss across the top of her head. “Good night Natalie,” he murmured, just like always, and just like always, her hand squeezed his.
Just like always, Natalie’s breathing evened out first, and just like always, it wasn’t long before Dan joined her in dreamless sleep.
