SUMMARY: Natalie and Danny are being irritating, and Dana's not about to make a New Year's resolution on January 7th. Dana/Caseyfic written for the lovely and patient Angstville, who donated to the Kerry campaign way back in the fall. Her original Fan the Vote story is still in the works, but here's another one. This one's, like, an interest payment or something. :) Spoilers through series finale.
THANKS: To Em, for the beta.
Dana flipped her clipboard onto her desk and pointed, straight-armed, at the door. "Out," she ordered, marching toward Natalie. "Out, out, out."
"But I think you should consider my suggestion--"
"For a New Year's resolution?" Dana interrupted. "It's already the new year."
"I know."
"Well, the point of New Year's resolutions is to make them *before* the new year," Dana pointed out.
"Yes," Natalie admitted. "But you're a deadline kind of person and you won't do it unless it's a resolution or a job requirement or something."
Frowning, Dana shook her head. "I'm a what?"
"Deadlines," Natalie explained, her tone earnest. "You work best with deadlines. Or with some sort of consequence for inaction."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"That blanket you were going to knit for the couch in here," Natalie answered, ticking her points off on her fingers. "The day at the spa we've been planning for two years. The scrapbook you bought and never took out of its plastic wrap--"
"Seriously, what the hell are you talking about?"
Natalie gave her an incredulous look. "Dana, if there's no deadline for a project, you'll never finish it. You'll probably never even start it."
Dana stared at her friend in openmouthed shock. "That is not true!"
"It is true."
"I finish work projects early all the time," Dana argued, trying and failing to come up with other examples.
"Yes, because they're for work." Natalie gave her a sympathetic look. "But you never do things for yourself. This is something you should do for yourself."
"No, it's not," Dana argued, anger welling up again. "This is something I tried to do years ago and if you'll remember, I failed spectacularly."
Natalie shrugged. "It was a year ago, and practice makes perfect."
"Natalie--"
"Dana," she said, her tone somber, "you should talk to him. You'll both feel better."
"We are better," Dana answered stubbornly. "We've been better for a while. We're fine, actually, and it's about a week late for New Year's resolutions anyway. Plus, I've got actual, you know, work to do, so if you wouldn't mind--"
"I do mind," Natalie interrupted, crossing her arms. "You always avoid the subject, and it's like this giant, pint polka dot elephant in the room!"
The image made Dana grin. "Casey is a gay Republican?"
Natalie struggled not to smile. "A gay Republican with the mumps," she corrected. After a moment of shared amusement, she sighed and said, "Dana."
"I don't want to talk about the elephant," she insisted, attempting to herd Natalie toward the door.
"Dana, it's the perfect resolution," Natalie argued, quite literally digging her heels in. She and Dana engaged in a ridiculous pushing match for a few seconds before Dana tossed her hands up in irritation.
"Okay," Dana decided. "You stay here. I'll go." She skirted around Natalie and gained the hallway, moving fast, ignoring the unmistakable sound of Natalie catching up to her.
"Dana--"
"Would it help if I said it in another language?" Dana wondered. "Of course, I don't know any other languages, except rudimentary French, and Ms. Thibideaux really didn't see much of a reason to teach plaid-skirt-wearing tenth graders to say, 'Stop bothering me about Casey or I'll kill you with my hands,' so I probably can't actually say it another language, but," she continued, stopping just before they reached the newsroom and raising her voice, "Stop bothering me about Casey or I'll kill you with my hands!"
Natalie stared up at her with wide eyes, and, satisfied that she'd finally made her point, Dana turned toward the newsroom and promptly collided with a smirking Danny.
"Where you going, there, Dana?" Danny asked. Still smirking.
Dana gave him her best glower. "Away from Natalie and away from you." She shrugged out of his grip. She wasn't quite clear on why the subject of Casey was making her so twitchy, but she knew for sure she did not want to talk about it anymore. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Jeremy call his girlfriend's name.
"You're going away from Natalie," Danny repeated, falling into step with her.
"Yes," Dana snapped.
"Because she wouldn't stop bothering you about Casey."
Dana's jaw tightened. "Yes."
"And you were afraid you'd have to follow through on your threat and kill her with your hands."
"Yes."
Danny was silent for a moment. "Yeah, I don't think you could actually kill Natalie with your hands."
"Danny--"
"Don't get me wrong," he continued, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets as he trailed her into the lobby, "you are freakishly strong. Still, I just don't think you have it in you to kill your best friend, even with some sort of weapon."
"Oh, I want so badly for the elevator to come," Dana muttered, jabbing impatiently at the call button.
"Are we going to lunch?" Danny asked, and she didn't even need to look at him to know he was grinning in that maddening way of his.
"I am going to lunch. Alone."
"So that you can think about what Natalie said about Casey?" Danny guessed.
"Where is the elevator?" Dana paced back and forth in tight circles, ignoring Danny, who was leaning casually against the wall across from the elevators.
"Hey, Dana?"
"What?" she snapped, staring daggers at him.
"What did Natalie say about Casey?"
The elevator announced its arrival and Dana actually considered composing a song of praise in its honor. Instead, she stepped quickly inside and blocked the door. "Don't even think about it," she warned Danny. "I'm going to lunch." She glanced over her shoulder and gave the vaguely familiar guy from the 57th floor an apologetic look.
Danny tilted his head. "It's January 7th."
Dana blinked. "I know."
"It's winter."
"Yes, it's both January and winter," Dana agreed, repeatedly pressing the button for the lobby.
"It's winter and you're leaving the building for lunch," Danny explained, "and yet you're not wearing a jacket."
The doors began to slide closed, and Dana glanced down at her silk blouse. "Shit," she muttered, and stuck her hand out into the lobby. The elevator bleated irritably, but opened again, and Dana stepped out. "Don't talk to me," she warned, setting off for her office as fast as her too-tall-for-work-but-too-adorable-*not*-to-wear Jimmy Choos would take her.
"What if I have legitimate, work-related questions?" Danny asked, walking a half-step behind Dana all the way to the newsroom.
"I'm on my lunch break."
"We work in news, Dana. If news happens during what other people consider to be lunch breaks--"
"Has news happened?" Dana interrupted, giving him a pointed look.
"Breaking news from the hot stove," Danny answered. "George Steinbrenner acquired another All Star."
Dana snorted. "That's not news." She spotted Natalie angling toward them and held up a hand. "No. I'm not talking about your resolution and I'm not talking about George Steinbrenner and I'm not talking about the weather." She stopped short in the hallway and turned on Dan and Natalie. "Stop following me. Stop pestering me. Stop telling me to talk to Casey. Just... stop."
To Dana's surprise, they stopped. She backed up a few cautious steps, but Danny and Natalie just stood there, like two stunned statues, and watched her go. She slipped into her office, slammed the door, and leaned down to fiddle with the lock. She never had much of a use for the lock, but she didn't trust those two not to attempt to harass her some more and--
"Who's telling you to talk to me?"
Dana yelped and straightened up so fast she very nearly tipped over backwards. "Casey," she said, one hand pressed to her chest. Carefully, she turned to face him. "You're... here."
He looked suspicious, but merely nodded. "I am."
"You're here in my office."
"True."
"You're not at the Meadowlands."
"Also true."
Dana crossed her arms a little bit defensively. "Didn't I send you to the Meadowlands--?"
"To interview Ron Mondrosi?" Casey interrupted. "Yes, you did. And I got there in time to learn that the very behavior I was supposed to interview him about landed him a three-game suspension."
"Ah," Dana answered.
"Yes."
"So he's not at the Meadowlands," she surmised.
"Nope," Casey confirmed. "Hence my unexpected return."
Dana nodded for a little too long. "So we should talk about what to do with the new, four-minute hole in the 20 block."
"We should," Casey agreed easily, studying her with narrowed eyes. "And yet something tells me that's not what the people you were yelling at wanted you to talk to me about."
Dana blinked. "That was a very bad sentence."
"Dana--"
She took two steps around him, heading for the coat rack in the corner. "Seriously, that sentence was confusing and it ended with a preposition. It's a good thing you're not a professional writer."
"Dana, where are you going?"
"Lunch," she answered, hugging her coat to her chest. "I was actually in the elevator on my way to lunch when Danny pointed out that it's actually January and I should probably wear a jacket, so I just came back for this--"
"Dana."
Dana reached for the door handle and jiggled it, but she'd apparently managed to lock it after all. "Dammit."
"Dana."
He sounded a lot closer, but Dana refused to turn. She stood facing the door, staring down at the smooth, silver hardware that refused to let her out, trying to figure out why she felt like crying. Or screaming. Or both. Instead, she did her best to steady her voice and asked, "What?"
"Who was in the hallway?"
"When?" she countered, except she'd never managed to master that believably clueless tone of voice.
"Dana."
"It's not important," she insisted.
"It sounded important."
"It may have sounded important, but it's not important. And you know how you can tell it's not important? I'm standing here telling you it's not important." Probably her tirade lost a little of its effect since she was still facing the door instead of Casey, but something that felt like fear was keeping her from turning around.
Casey's warm palm landed on her shoulder, squeezing gently and urging her to turn. "Dana, I can tell it is important because your voice got that squeaky quality it gets when you're about to lose it."
"I'm not about to lose it," she argued, turning halfway, but still stubbornly refusing to look at him. "Unless by lose it you mean faint from hunger. That I might do."
"I'll buy you lunch in five minutes if you tell me why you're upset," Casey offered.
"And my voice does not get squeaky," she added belatedly.
"Dana, is this about us?"
"What us? There is no us," Dana answered. And, yes, as it turned out, her voice did get squeaky.
"Dana."
With a sigh, Dana gave in and faced him. "What do you want, Casey?"
"I want you to talk to me," he answered, with that annoyingly earnest look on his face.
She wanted to believe he was sincere, but that would require trusting him again, and she wasn't sure she could do that. "I am talking to you. I talk to you all the time."
"About work, about the Jeremy and Natalie saga, about the state of the world, sure," Casey answered, and for once, he actually sounded frustrated. "You never talk to me about you."
Puzzled, Dana shook her head. "I don't understand what you mean."
"We used to be close," Casey answered, bitterness creeping into his voice as his hand dropped from her shoulder. He paced in a small circle, doing that thing with his hands that meant he was searching for words. "We used to be friends, Dana. What happened?"
She couldn't look at him anymore. She carefully smoothed the lapel of her jacket, concentrating on the fabric in her hands instead of the man in her office. "We messed everything up. I messed everything up, okay? And I'm sorry. I would go back and fix it if I could, but I'm not Stephen Hawking, so I'm afraid we're stuck with this," she finished, waving a hand in the air between them.
Casey had stopped pacing. He stood a few feet away, watching her closely. "We both messed up, Dana."
She was already shaking her head, already disagreeing. "You just did what I asked you to, and then you--" She stopped abruptly.
"Dana?" Casey asked.
"Forget it."
"No, I won't forget it. What were you going to say?"
"Nothing"
"Dana."
"Casey--"
"Would you just tell me what I did?" he demanded, his voice rising in irritation.
"You did exactly what I feared that you'd do," she practically shouted at him. "You found someone better." Truth hurts, she thought bitterly, and turned her face carefully away.
And then Casey was in front of her, his hands on her upper arms. "That's not true," he argued, and he actually sounded like he meant it.
Dana couldn't help but look up at him, at those warm eyes. "It is true. I know I didn't explain the dating plan very well, and I know I hurt you, but..." She shook her head, focused her gaze on her well-worn sweater hanging on the coat rack so she didn't have to see the agreement in his expression when she explained. "I know I'm not a prize, Casey. I kick some ass at my job, but at this kind of stuff..." She shook her head. "I can never seen to get it right. And you--" She swallowed a really inconvenient lump in her throat. "You deserve a prize. You deserve to be happy."
"You're crazy if you think someone like Pixley could make me happy." He actually sounded angry.
His words hung there, unexpected, and Dana wanted to believe them. She chanced a look at him, and he seemed like he was telling the truth. Still, she shook her head. "Casey--"
"I wanted you, Dana," he interrupted, and now she couldn't look away from him. "I always have. You knew that, and you still told me to date other people. And, yes, I liked Pixley. She was cute and funny and sweet--"
Dana winced and tried to pull away, but Casey tightened his grip on her arms. "Casey--"
"No, let me finish. Pixley was all of those things, but she wasn't you."
Dana took an unsteady breath. "Casey..." His words were warm and soothing and she wanted to wrap herself up in them.
"I'm sorry I was a jerk about Pixley," Casey said quietly. "I didn't handle it well."
"I'm sorry I was a jerk about the dating plan," Dana countered. "I never wanted you to date anyone but me."
Casey exhaled slowly, some of the tension draining from his body. They stood there, awkwardly, until Casey released her. Dana glanced at him and away, feeling both better and worse than she did before. They'd cleared the air, at least. But something still felt... unresolved.
As the silence spooled out, Dana ducked her chin and told herself to accept things the way they were. "Well," she said, favoring Casey with a bright smile -- and if it was a little bit forced, at least she was trying, "I should probably..." She hooked a thumb toward the door.
Casey shifted his weight and watched her, a slight frown in place. "Yeah, okay."
She turned to the door, blinking rapidly as she tried to work the stupid lock. When Casey's hand gently settled on her wrist, Dana leaned her forehead against the cool surface of the door and let him work the lock.
When she heard the distinctive click, Dana opened her eyes, but Casey didn't move away from her. She could feel the heat from his body warming her back.
"Dana?" he asked, his voice low and a little strangled.
"Yeah?" she answered unsteadily. Casey's hand landed near her head, palm flat against the door, boxing her in.
"All that stuff about -- about us," Casey began. "Is it all... past tense?"
Dana stilled, teetering in that scary, exhilarating moment before the roller coaster starts its descent. She held her breath for a long moment, then squeezed her eyes shut and said, "No."
A weight dropped onto her shoulder -- Casey's forehead. "Thank God," he exhaled, the warmth of his breath on her shoulder blade sending a chill down her spine. "Dana," he mumbled, turning his face into her neck. "Turn around."
It took some effort, including a shaking hand pressed against the door, but she turned, unsteadily, as he lifted his head. He was already leaning in to kiss her, but Dana lifted two trembling fingers to his jaw. "Wait," she whispered.
Casey looked worried. "What's wrong?"
"You--" She shook her head. "It's not past tense for you?" She knew the answer, she could feel it in the way he was staring at her, but she needed to hear him say it.
Casey started to smile. "No," he answered, leaning closer and closer. "It's not past tense for me, either."
And then they were kissing, and if possible, it was even better than the first time. Dana dropped her coat so she could wind both arms around his neck and press herself closer. Casey took another half step, and then her back was against the door and she was leaning up on her tiptoes for leverage, because, wow, could he do some amazing things with that mouth of his.
What seemed like hours later, Casey broke the kiss and dropped his forehead to her shoulder again, breathing heavily. Dana shifted against him, sliding her arms around his rib cage for a hug. "Are we really doing this?" she murmured.
"Yes, we really are," Casey answered, his hands slipping dangerously low on her hips. "In fact, we're doing this right now."
Laughing, Dana pushed him away and raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?"
"No," Casey answered, blushing. "We're not doing that. Well, we're not doing it right now, but we can do it later. I mean -- I don't mean later tonight, just later in general. We can do it whenever you want to. No rush. Unless you want there to be a rush, in which case--"
"Casey?"
"Yeah?"
Dana grinned up at him. "Stop talking."
"Thank you," he exhaled, favoring her with a relieved grin. He stepped back and rescued her coat from the floor, shaking it out with exaggerated movements. "I believe I promised to feed you."
"You did," she agreed, and she couldn't quite stop smiling at him. But neither could he.
"Okay, then. We're going to lunch now," he declared. "And it's a date."
Dana accepted her coat and allowed him to slip it over her shoulders. "It is?"
"Yes," Casey said. "We're going on our first date right now. We're dating." He stopped, giving her a worried look. "That's okay, right?"
Dana nodded. "That's very okay," she assured him, tangling her fingers with his for a brief moment.
"Good." Casey fumbled a little with the door handle, then held it open for her.
"Thanks," Dana said, sweeping past. "Oh, and, Casey," she added, stopping just outside her office. "You're free after the show, right?"
Casey started to smile. "Definitely. We can get dinner or--"
Dana leaned closer. "Maybe we can do that later tonight." The combination of shock and lust on his face was really quite something. Laughing, Dana turned and headed for the elevators. "C'mon, Casey."
THE END
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