Tactile Experience (Sports Night, Dan/Casey, PG)
Title: Tactile Experience
Author: Sparcck
Fandom: Sports Night
Pairing: Dan/Casey
Rating: PG
Summary: In which Casey can't write, and won't let Dan, either. Takes place during "And the Crowd Goes Wild."
Disclaimer: Anyone who can't make money off of Sports Night should get out of the money making business. Good thing I'm not in that business.
Notes: aerachnae was calling out time as I wrote my final word. Also, Microsoft hates me and now I have no spell check. I did my very best on proofreading.
*
"Read me back what we have again."
"You have."
"We have."
"Casey."
"This is a team effort, Danny. Team effort."
"No. This is an effort by you that is being perpetuated by me. Which I shouldn't be doing, by the way."
Casey frowned and typed at the air. He tried to imagine keys under the pads of his fingers, but he couldn't really remember what that felt like. "I want to be able to type my own stuff."
"Have you tried taking the sunglasses off?"
"It'll hurt my eyes."
"For a little while, okay, but it's pretty dark in here. It'll get better."
"Aren't you listening to me? It'll damage my eyes."
Dan sighed and Casey vaguely saw the Dan-shape in his chair swing two denim blurs up onto the desk. "Hurt and damage have two very different connotations, Casey. I don't think that's what the doctor meant."
"Irreparable damage, Danny."
"Casey."
"Type with me."
"What?"
"Put your hands over mine and type with me."
"No."
"Danny."
"No."
They were silent, and Casey heard the chair squeaking as the Dan-shape rocked very gently back and forth. He thought about what kinds of things he could remember feeling. There was Dan trying to hand him a sandwich at the noon rundown, but Casey fumbled and grabbed Dan's wrist instead. He didn't think he had ever felt Dan's wrist before, and he had known him for a really long time. It seemed like the kind of thing Casey should know, what Dan's wrist felt like. It was bigger than he thought, although he had to admit he'd never thought about Danny's wrists before. Bigger and really warm, like a cat's belly warm. Cat's bellies, Casey thought. Very soft.
Yeah, Danny's wrist was soft like that. And he could feel his pulse under it, strong and steady.
He thought about other things he never thought about feeling.
His senses were alive.
"Let me feel your face, then."
Dan laughed. "Let you feel my face?"
"Yeah. You know, to get me. Acclimated."
"I think I'd rather type with my hands over yours."
"Danny."
"You'll probably put my eyes out."
"I'll be careful."
Dan snorted. "Right."
"You doubt my grace and agility?"
"There's a big difference between doubt and knowledge of non-existence."
Casey stood up, and planted his hands firmly on the desk. Or, tried to. He missed, staggered, knocked his knee into the modesty panel. "Jesus. Shit." Put out his hands again and grabbed at the desk, encountering something warm and rough and alive-feeling. He slid his fingers around it, then cupped it in his palm.
"What's this?"
The Dan-shape had gone very still. He cleared his throat and when he spoke his voice was weird and kind of scratchy. "That would be my knee, Casey."
"Ah."
Casey didn't think he had ever touched Dan's knee, either. Hell, he couldn't really remember ever touching Lisa's knee, and you'd think a guy would know what his wife's knees felt like. They were his ex-wife's knees, now, though, so maybe that let him off the hook. But he did have plenty of time while they were married to get acquainted with them.
He squeezed very gently, felt bone and cartilage under the worn denim.
Dan jerked his leg away. "Hello? Watch it there, Helen Keller. You can take my word for it that it's my knee."
"Your knees are ticklish."
"They're not ticklish. They're a little sensitive."
"Your knees are sensitive?"
"Everyone's knees are sensitive."
"I don't think my knees are sensitive."
"I bet your knees-- you know what? We're not talking about this anymore. We need to have at least half a script by the ten o'clock, and if it's not going to be yours, can I at least work on mine?"
"Just to get me started. Type with me." Casey felt kind of lost without Dan's knee, but figured he'd sound stupid if he asked for it again.
Dan sighed and stood. "Fine. Will you promise to work if I do this?"
"Yes."
"No more stalling? No more grabbing of knees?"
"Yes, yes."
"Okay sit."
"You have to help me."
"This so isn't even close to funny anymore."
"Tuna fish in a barrel, huh?" Casey put his hip against the desk and sidled around it toward the blue and red Dan-blur. He felt Dan's hands before he saw Dan's arms moving and he leaned into them. Dan had grabbed his shoulder and put his other hand on the small of his back just above the waist of his jeans. Jesus, how was one person so warm all the time? Casey felt like every finger was burning through his shirt. Big hands. Like his wrists. He supposed it made sense.
"Jackass in a barrel, more like." Dan steered him into the chair. "Sit."
"You know I can see an awful lot. Just not the important stuff."
"Whatever. I'm typing with you, aren't I, so you can stop with the back-assward reasoning."
"Okay."
Dan pulled his chair around behind Casey and sat. Casey felt Dan's legs on either side of him, higher than he assumed they would be. Dan must have raised his chair so he could get over Casey's arms.
"I could be a blind detective, you know."
"Shut up."
"Okay."
Dan put his hands very lightly over Casey's and guided them to the keyboard. They were much bigger than Casey's, dry and solid, thick fingers and broad palms.
"You have nice hands."
Dan chuckled a little, and Casey felt goosebumps raise on the back of his neck when Dan's breath huffed across the juncture of his shoulder and throat. "Flattery will get you nowhere, I thought we established that years ago."
"Ready?"
"Are you ready?" Danny's chest was pressed against the chair back, and Casey kind of liked the pressure, feeling Danny breathe through his back.
It didn't seem like enough. There were so many things he thought he should know that he didn't.
"Let me feel your face."
Dan didn't laugh this time. "Casey..."
"Just the one time and then I won't ask you again."
"I thought I said no more dicking around."
"No, you said no more stalling. This is neither stalling, nor dicking around, even though dicking around was never actually mentioned in the original verbal agreement."
Dan was silent, and then: "Fine. If it'll shut you up."
Casey turned and straddled his chair, his knees bumping Dan's. On further thought, Dan's knees were smaller than Casey's which seemed weird.
"Your knees are smaller than mine."
"Do you have some sort of knee obsession I don't know about?"
"No. No, it's just. Knees."
"Uh, okay."
Casey was surprised suddenly, that Dan was so close to him. He could feel Dan's breath when he talked, and even though Casey had built his career on talking to Danny, he never really thought about Dan talking. On how he talked, never thought about his breath or the vibrations in his throat.
He put one hand on Dan's throat.
"Talk."
"What?"
He could feel Dan's adam's apple, a pointy little knot just above the hollow of his throat, jutting against his palm. Slight stubble and smooth skin that was used to being shaved.
"When did you start shaving, Danny?"
"Casey."
"Nevermind. I." He slid his hand up over Danny's wide jaw, tiny cleft in his chin, nothing he even noticed before and he thumbed at it. Put his other hand on Danny's throat, so he could feel the little hitch in his breath if it happened again.
"Casey. Are you--"
"Getting there."
"Your senses?"
"They are alive, Danny."
Danny laughed very low in his throat and Casey closed his eyes, wanted to try to build his best friend's face from scratch.
Moved up, up his cheek, sliding two fingers over his cheekbone, up further, felt Danny close his eyes and the flutter of dark long lashes against his fore and middle fingers. His other hand curved and cupped around his throat, and he felt Danny's pulse beating faster than it had been this afternoon, and it was stronger here. He pressed the heel of his hand against the pulse point between the slim collarbones.
"You have nice collarbones."
"Casey." Danny's voice sounded strangled.
"Am I hurting you?" He moved his other hand again, fanning his fingers over the thick wings of Danny's eyebrows.
"No. No, not--"
Casey let his hand drop to Danny's mouth, thumbed the side of his nose where a little ridge cut it hard and angular.
"Keep talking."
He laughed, but Casey knew it was not his normal laugh. It felt odd, foreign against his fingers. "Casey, this is stupid. Are we done yet."
"No."
Without really thinking about it, he dropped his other hand to Dan's thigh and slid it up, just so his hand contoured around the crease of his thigh and hip.
Dan made a weird noise against his fingers and the tip of Casey's index finger touched the inside of Danny's bottom lip.
Danny jerked away, and Casey snapped his eyes open, watching the more defined Dan-shape try to stand, falling when his chair tilted and his feet got tangled with Casey's.
He reached out and grabbed Danny's arm, righting him until he could feel for the wall and drag himself up from his half-crouch.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah." Dan's voice was harsh and nasally. Casey remembered the feel of his words against his hand. "Are we done now?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. I have to. I have to look at the thing. At the tape."
"Right."
Danny turned, then turned back and fumbled in the desk drawer for a second. "Here."
Suddenly he was very close to Casey, pressing something into his hands.
"What is this?"
"Tape recorder."
"Danny."
"I'll transcribe later."
"Okay."
"Okay."
"Make sure the script is printed big."
"Yeah."
"Really big."
"Got it."
"Danny."
"Yeah."
Casey thought of a lot of things he could say. A lot of things he wanted to say. "You have nice knees."
Dan was silent, then laughed, a real laugh.
"Idiot."
"Yeah." Casey smiled. "Okay."
*
Author: Sparcck
Fandom: Sports Night
Pairing: Dan/Casey
Rating: PG
Summary: In which Casey can't write, and won't let Dan, either. Takes place during "And the Crowd Goes Wild."
Disclaimer: Anyone who can't make money off of Sports Night should get out of the money making business. Good thing I'm not in that business.
Notes: aerachnae was calling out time as I wrote my final word. Also, Microsoft hates me and now I have no spell check. I did my very best on proofreading.
*
"Read me back what we have again."
"You have."
"We have."
"Casey."
"This is a team effort, Danny. Team effort."
"No. This is an effort by you that is being perpetuated by me. Which I shouldn't be doing, by the way."
Casey frowned and typed at the air. He tried to imagine keys under the pads of his fingers, but he couldn't really remember what that felt like. "I want to be able to type my own stuff."
"Have you tried taking the sunglasses off?"
"It'll hurt my eyes."
"For a little while, okay, but it's pretty dark in here. It'll get better."
"Aren't you listening to me? It'll damage my eyes."
Dan sighed and Casey vaguely saw the Dan-shape in his chair swing two denim blurs up onto the desk. "Hurt and damage have two very different connotations, Casey. I don't think that's what the doctor meant."
"Irreparable damage, Danny."
"Casey."
"Type with me."
"What?"
"Put your hands over mine and type with me."
"No."
"Danny."
"No."
They were silent, and Casey heard the chair squeaking as the Dan-shape rocked very gently back and forth. He thought about what kinds of things he could remember feeling. There was Dan trying to hand him a sandwich at the noon rundown, but Casey fumbled and grabbed Dan's wrist instead. He didn't think he had ever felt Dan's wrist before, and he had known him for a really long time. It seemed like the kind of thing Casey should know, what Dan's wrist felt like. It was bigger than he thought, although he had to admit he'd never thought about Danny's wrists before. Bigger and really warm, like a cat's belly warm. Cat's bellies, Casey thought. Very soft.
Yeah, Danny's wrist was soft like that. And he could feel his pulse under it, strong and steady.
He thought about other things he never thought about feeling.
His senses were alive.
"Let me feel your face, then."
Dan laughed. "Let you feel my face?"
"Yeah. You know, to get me. Acclimated."
"I think I'd rather type with my hands over yours."
"Danny."
"You'll probably put my eyes out."
"I'll be careful."
Dan snorted. "Right."
"You doubt my grace and agility?"
"There's a big difference between doubt and knowledge of non-existence."
Casey stood up, and planted his hands firmly on the desk. Or, tried to. He missed, staggered, knocked his knee into the modesty panel. "Jesus. Shit." Put out his hands again and grabbed at the desk, encountering something warm and rough and alive-feeling. He slid his fingers around it, then cupped it in his palm.
"What's this?"
The Dan-shape had gone very still. He cleared his throat and when he spoke his voice was weird and kind of scratchy. "That would be my knee, Casey."
"Ah."
Casey didn't think he had ever touched Dan's knee, either. Hell, he couldn't really remember ever touching Lisa's knee, and you'd think a guy would know what his wife's knees felt like. They were his ex-wife's knees, now, though, so maybe that let him off the hook. But he did have plenty of time while they were married to get acquainted with them.
He squeezed very gently, felt bone and cartilage under the worn denim.
Dan jerked his leg away. "Hello? Watch it there, Helen Keller. You can take my word for it that it's my knee."
"Your knees are ticklish."
"They're not ticklish. They're a little sensitive."
"Your knees are sensitive?"
"Everyone's knees are sensitive."
"I don't think my knees are sensitive."
"I bet your knees-- you know what? We're not talking about this anymore. We need to have at least half a script by the ten o'clock, and if it's not going to be yours, can I at least work on mine?"
"Just to get me started. Type with me." Casey felt kind of lost without Dan's knee, but figured he'd sound stupid if he asked for it again.
Dan sighed and stood. "Fine. Will you promise to work if I do this?"
"Yes."
"No more stalling? No more grabbing of knees?"
"Yes, yes."
"Okay sit."
"You have to help me."
"This so isn't even close to funny anymore."
"Tuna fish in a barrel, huh?" Casey put his hip against the desk and sidled around it toward the blue and red Dan-blur. He felt Dan's hands before he saw Dan's arms moving and he leaned into them. Dan had grabbed his shoulder and put his other hand on the small of his back just above the waist of his jeans. Jesus, how was one person so warm all the time? Casey felt like every finger was burning through his shirt. Big hands. Like his wrists. He supposed it made sense.
"Jackass in a barrel, more like." Dan steered him into the chair. "Sit."
"You know I can see an awful lot. Just not the important stuff."
"Whatever. I'm typing with you, aren't I, so you can stop with the back-assward reasoning."
"Okay."
Dan pulled his chair around behind Casey and sat. Casey felt Dan's legs on either side of him, higher than he assumed they would be. Dan must have raised his chair so he could get over Casey's arms.
"I could be a blind detective, you know."
"Shut up."
"Okay."
Dan put his hands very lightly over Casey's and guided them to the keyboard. They were much bigger than Casey's, dry and solid, thick fingers and broad palms.
"You have nice hands."
Dan chuckled a little, and Casey felt goosebumps raise on the back of his neck when Dan's breath huffed across the juncture of his shoulder and throat. "Flattery will get you nowhere, I thought we established that years ago."
"Ready?"
"Are you ready?" Danny's chest was pressed against the chair back, and Casey kind of liked the pressure, feeling Danny breathe through his back.
It didn't seem like enough. There were so many things he thought he should know that he didn't.
"Let me feel your face."
Dan didn't laugh this time. "Casey..."
"Just the one time and then I won't ask you again."
"I thought I said no more dicking around."
"No, you said no more stalling. This is neither stalling, nor dicking around, even though dicking around was never actually mentioned in the original verbal agreement."
Dan was silent, and then: "Fine. If it'll shut you up."
Casey turned and straddled his chair, his knees bumping Dan's. On further thought, Dan's knees were smaller than Casey's which seemed weird.
"Your knees are smaller than mine."
"Do you have some sort of knee obsession I don't know about?"
"No. No, it's just. Knees."
"Uh, okay."
Casey was surprised suddenly, that Dan was so close to him. He could feel Dan's breath when he talked, and even though Casey had built his career on talking to Danny, he never really thought about Dan talking. On how he talked, never thought about his breath or the vibrations in his throat.
He put one hand on Dan's throat.
"Talk."
"What?"
He could feel Dan's adam's apple, a pointy little knot just above the hollow of his throat, jutting against his palm. Slight stubble and smooth skin that was used to being shaved.
"When did you start shaving, Danny?"
"Casey."
"Nevermind. I." He slid his hand up over Danny's wide jaw, tiny cleft in his chin, nothing he even noticed before and he thumbed at it. Put his other hand on Danny's throat, so he could feel the little hitch in his breath if it happened again.
"Casey. Are you--"
"Getting there."
"Your senses?"
"They are alive, Danny."
Danny laughed very low in his throat and Casey closed his eyes, wanted to try to build his best friend's face from scratch.
Moved up, up his cheek, sliding two fingers over his cheekbone, up further, felt Danny close his eyes and the flutter of dark long lashes against his fore and middle fingers. His other hand curved and cupped around his throat, and he felt Danny's pulse beating faster than it had been this afternoon, and it was stronger here. He pressed the heel of his hand against the pulse point between the slim collarbones.
"You have nice collarbones."
"Casey." Danny's voice sounded strangled.
"Am I hurting you?" He moved his other hand again, fanning his fingers over the thick wings of Danny's eyebrows.
"No. No, not--"
Casey let his hand drop to Danny's mouth, thumbed the side of his nose where a little ridge cut it hard and angular.
"Keep talking."
He laughed, but Casey knew it was not his normal laugh. It felt odd, foreign against his fingers. "Casey, this is stupid. Are we done yet."
"No."
Without really thinking about it, he dropped his other hand to Dan's thigh and slid it up, just so his hand contoured around the crease of his thigh and hip.
Dan made a weird noise against his fingers and the tip of Casey's index finger touched the inside of Danny's bottom lip.
Danny jerked away, and Casey snapped his eyes open, watching the more defined Dan-shape try to stand, falling when his chair tilted and his feet got tangled with Casey's.
He reached out and grabbed Danny's arm, righting him until he could feel for the wall and drag himself up from his half-crouch.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah." Dan's voice was harsh and nasally. Casey remembered the feel of his words against his hand. "Are we done now?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. I have to. I have to look at the thing. At the tape."
"Right."
Danny turned, then turned back and fumbled in the desk drawer for a second. "Here."
Suddenly he was very close to Casey, pressing something into his hands.
"What is this?"
"Tape recorder."
"Danny."
"I'll transcribe later."
"Okay."
"Okay."
"Make sure the script is printed big."
"Yeah."
"Really big."
"Got it."
"Danny."
"Yeah."
Casey thought of a lot of things he could say. A lot of things he wanted to say. "You have nice knees."
Dan was silent, then laughed, a real laugh.
"Idiot."
"Yeah." Casey smiled. "Okay."
*