I Don't Have a Choice (But I Still Choose You) (Liz/Jack, L/Danny, 3/4)
Title: I Don't Have a Choice (But I Still Choose You)
Part: Three of Four
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairings: Danny/Liz, Jack/Liz, Jack/Other
Spoilers: through 'Black Light Attack!'
Word Count (this part): 2,623
Rating (this part): NC-17
Summary: Following Jack's wedding, Liz tries to distract herself. (Sequel to " I Wish I Were the One You're Looking For.")
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Title is from the song 'Poison & Wine' by The Civil Wars. Don't sue.
*
The thing Liz remembers most about the wedding -- and she remembers it well, remembers how ill-at-ease she felt in her Marina-approved dress, remembers her toast about how happy Jack's been, how much she wants this for him (and she wondered if the fact that her humiliation was private made it less of one), remembers having no one to talk to because Jenna (who forced Liz to wrangle an invitation from Jack because it was going to be a 'huge social event' that a star of her stature *had* to be at) was busy mingling -- is how out of place she felt. Not just because she didn't want to be there, because she wanted to run and hide, but because it was the opposite of the wedding she could envision herself having. It was so fancy and expensive and Marina was entirely comfortable with having everyone's eyes on her. With being the center of attention. It would have made Liz squirm, she knows.
It reminded her of why she and Jack didn't fit. It reminded her of how much she wished they could.
*
Jack would never cuddle on the couch and watch Dancing with the Stars with her.
She remembers, back when she and Danny were first fooling around, Jack disdainfully saying, "You have him watching ice-dancing, Lemon," and declaring that a steady diet of makeout sessions and television watched only by women and gay men had left Danny emasculated.
But now they're having sex, so she couldn't have weakened his manliness through "high-school-freshman-level activities, or as you would call it, your ideal romantic life." She's letting him be a man, and this is the sort of man he is. He's a nice guy who will hang out with his... not girlfriend... fuck buddy? She's not Carrie Bradshaw, she can't call a guy that. He can hang out with a woman he's sleeping with, have a low-key evening of reality TV and be *content.* He's exactly what she needs. He's exactly what someone like her *needs.*
(Why isn't he what she wants?)
She pulls him in for a kiss during the recap. Takes him to her bed.
*
Maybe she's attracted to Jack because of her low self-esteem. Like when she threw herself at Jackie Mason or said, "That's what Mama likes," when Don Rickles called her a hockey puck. (She hasn't gone to see an insult comedian in years.) But, if her wanting Jack was about that, wouldn't what she feels for him be just about sex? Wouldn't she want to throw herself at him every time he laughed at the idea that she was anywhere near his league or questioned her fashion choices? Wouldn't it sting less, be more of a thrill? Not that it always stings. Sometimes, she smiles. Sometimes, it feels playful and teasing.
This (except for the moments when she forgets he's wearing a ring on his finger) was way before he told her he was getting married. Before she felt her stomach turn, before she realized what that reaction meant. Before she thought about all the reasons it was futile to tell Jack she didn't want him to get married.
One thing she can say: her low self-esteem is probably part of the reason why she's uncomfortable with the way Danny is touching her, looking at her. Running his hand over her stomach, placing kisses on her breasts. She's suspicious. He can't really be so into this, right? She doesn't have the world's greatest boobs. But when she imagines Jack studying her this way, casting his gaze on her naked body, examining her with his decidedly critical eye, the concept is no more thrilling. No less unnerving. Though if Jack were to get to a point where he'd allow himself to get into bed with her, he'd probably pretend her flaws are nonexistent or endearing, right? Or he'd actually believe it. (Sometimes, she feels as if she loves him more because of his imperfections, but she thinks the key is just that she loves him.) He's good at that stuff. Romance. Fake romance of the I want to have sex with this woman sort, or the more genuine I'm crazy about this woman and want her to know it kind.
If he wanted her, he'd know how to make her feel desirable.
What an if, huh?
*
At a certain point, she can't refuse Jack's invitations anymore. So she goes home and gets changed into her plain black dress, which isn't an outfit that tries to be sexy, which is an outfit that became her default 'dinner with Jack' dress before he got married, when they used to spend more time together. She lets her hair stay loose.
Marina looks beautiful. Of course she does. Liz lies and says, "It's really good to see you."
As the evening wears on, Liz finds herself looking for cracks in their relationship. Proof that things are going badly. (As if it would change anything.) And she finds herself unmoved by her own findings, by the moments Marina leans away from him, by the silences. Nothing that makes them an unhappily married couple. Just a married couple.
He still steals adoring glances at her.
"I feel like a third wheel," Liz says, after one of those glances. It's stating the obvious, but also bringing up something no one's acknowledged. "The next time I go out to dinner with the two of you, I'm going to bring a date."
By that time, she'll be over this and everything will be fine.
"You're not a third wheel," Marina assures her.
"No, I am. It doesn't have to be a bad thing, right? Tricycles can be good. And you take one of the wheels off a tricycle, you can't ride that thing."
She takes a sip of her wine to stop herself from talking.
Jack doesn't say anything for a moment as he watches her; not critically, exactly, but she knows he's thinking *something.* She assumes he can tell she's uncomfortable. She knows he can't tell why, or else he wouldn't say: "I want you here, Lemon; that means you're not a third wheel."
At the end of the evening, Liz leaves while Jack is paying the check. She's so relieved to be out of there, so glad that she has a reason to avoid an evening like this for a while.
For the next couple weeks, Danny is at her apartment, in her bed, every other night.
*
On one of those nights, a Wednesday, Jack calls her. Danny knows it's him at almost the same time Liz does, as he glances over to see Jack's picture on the screen while she leans over him to pick her phone up off the nightstand. She turns as she answers, not wanting Danny to see her face in case Jack says something that makes her smile in a way that might be too... telling. She doesn't, though, or at least she's not aware of it.
She smiles, yeah, when she says goodbye. But it's not too much. And even if it is, Danny doesn't see her, so he can't know. After she hangs up, she puts her feet back up on the bed, lying down next to him. After a few moments, Danny says:
"I used to think the two of you would end up together."
The words startle her because, well, does she really have to think about this lie? This thing that could only ever be a lie because why would Jack want her? What would he love her? (She asked him that once, as a joke. She asked him as a joke, and he couldn't be bothered to joke back.) "Well," she says lightly, "you lost that bet. You didn't bet, right?"
"I didn't."
"Good."
"He told me about what happened between the two of you."
"Nothing happened," she says. "You mean... what, when he told me how he felt?" Danny nods. She wonders when it was supposed to have happened, this confession. Did Jack kill the façade soon after it began? Did he do it later, while he was hoping Nancy would leave her husband? Did he do it when he met Marina? She can't ask, of course, since she's supposed to live in the same reality as Danny, where Jack was in love with her and she rejected him... Why? "I didn't know he told you about that." Liz tucks a bit of hair behind her ear. Makes an educated guess. "It was, you know, sweet and everything, and very flattering, but I didn't feel the same way. I just... I couldn't feel the way about him that he felt about me, you know? I couldn't do that." She pauses. "We never would have worked anyway, and I knew that. I mean--" She should stop explaining this; stop giving herself a chance to seem more and more transparent, more and more nervous, more and more obviously not telling the whole truth, or even a fraction of it. "--you can't make something work that *can't* work. You can't force yourself to love someone."
She slides a hand up Danny's bare chest. Kisses him because she doesn't want to talk.
She doesn't want to say another word about Jack.
*
When they have sex again that night -- they don't usually do it twice in a night, but after some kissing, he's hard and it seems right to allow more sex -- she gets on all fours. Even though it's not something she feels comfortable with, at least not really (she's done it before and it wasn't particularly enjoyable, but she did do it with Dennis, so), she's the one who suggests it. Because they've been having sex in the same two positions. Because she doesn't want to look at him, doesn't want to look at him while Jack and the love he doesn't feel for her is still fresh on her mind, and she feels so guilty. Feels even guiltier when Danny's pushing inside her and she wonders if Jack likes having sex this way. Wonders about the way he's fucked other women, about the way he fucks his wife. The way he makes love to his wife.
When Danny's completely inside her, it feels good enough to make her forget. Or rather, to make her remember. Remember that she's in bed with someone who isn't Jack (he can't ever be Jack, and at some point that will seem like an entirely good thing), that she's with Danny, and she tightens around him as one of her hands becomes a fist around the loose sheet. He keeps his hands on her hips as he thrusts, his groans coming out in short bursts. She thinks of Jack again, and it makes her feel worse than the other times her mind has wandered. Worse than the first time she had sex with Danny, because she's supposed to be feeling better. She's supposed to be *getting over* this, she's supposed to be having fun, and she's still imagining an impossibility in the place of reality.
"Harder, okay?" she mutters uncertainly. "Harder."
Danny obliges, but she asks him again. And again, until he's pounding into her, until the pain of his pelvis hitting her is equal to the pleasure of him inside her. Her moans become sharp gasps, and she tells him not to stop. Tells him yes because she's not thinking now, not feeling anything but this. She comes, and she's kind of surprised by the feeling, surprised that she's having an orgasm this way. Surprised by how quickly Jack rushes back into her mind, and she leans forward, resting her forehead on her hands, gasping and groaning as Danny keeps going until he comes.
After he collapses on the bed next to her, still out of breath, she lies on her side, turned away from him.
"Wow," he says.
"Yeah," she replies. Adds a joke: "I bet you didn't think an old lady could wear you out."
"You're not old."
"I am," she says. Old and running out of time, and why does everyone always have more time than she does? Why is she always steps behind, why can't she catch up? "I am old."
She feels Danny's hand on her back. "Are you okay?"
She turns to him. "Of course." She kisses him. "That was awesome," she says, lips close to his. "Really, really awesome."
*
Jack says, "I'm worried about you."
"You're..." she begins. "...why? Wait, are we still talking about ratings?"
"No."
"Okay."
"I don't think you're happy."
She shrugs. "When do I ever seem happy to you, really?"
"If you want to talk about anything--"
She nods. "I will keep your offer in mind. But, seriously, Jack. I'm fine." She pauses. "And you're doing fine, right?"
"I am."
"Good. Awesome."
*
Liz and Danny haven't done the roleplaying thing in a while. Because they've been having sex in her apartment, away from the studio and the costumes. Well. They never had roleplay sex before. They had roleplay making out. But now they're going to have roleplay sex, as Danny is in his CHiPS costume and Liz has slid her panties down her legs (and slipped them into her purse because, God, how mortifying would misplacing her underwear be?), and put her shoes back on before perching herself at the edge of her desk.
"Oh, officer," she says, "I'm glad that road work is causing such long traffic delays."
She presses her mouth against his as her hands go south of the border, unzipping him. He moans into her mouth as she strokes him, and she mutters, "Is that good?" as he pulls back. She wants an answer but he doesn't give it, and then he's grabbing the condom off the desk. He puts it on and she wonders if she should take off his helmet before the sex, but she kind of likes it, him having everything on. Her having everything on. (So is it more her being comfortable with a lack of nudity than liking the costume?) Or maybe it's the urgency. The sense that she wants this, wants *him* right now.
She gasps as he starts to push inside her, and she wraps her legs around him. Then she's glad he still has his pants on for a new reason; they're probably dulling the pain of having a pair of heels digging into him. She doesn't want to hurt him. She likes him. She likes this, she tells herself, and she grabs onto his shoulders as he moves inside her. She moans, tilting her hips so he push deeper in. Moans and moans as the repetition sets in, the in and out and listening to him moan in return. She closes her eyes, rests her head against his chest.
The door slams.
Danny jumps back, and she pulls her dress down even though no one's in the room but her and Danny. There's a moment where they stare at each other. She takes a deep breath.
"Oh my God," she mutters. "This is... this is bad."
"Maybe it wasn't anyone," Danny says. "Maybe it was a janitor. I'm not saying janitors aren't people, I'm saying a janitor won't make a big deal about it. Jenna would make a big deal."
"I know. I know."
Liz keeps muttering to herself -- mostly about how stupid she is, because how could she not lock the door? -- until her phone pings, signaling a new text. She grabs it, thinking it's not a coincidence. It's from Jack. It says:
I need to talk to you first thing in the morning.
She feels like she's going to be sick.
End Part Three of Four
Continue on to Part Four
Part: Three of Four
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairings: Danny/Liz, Jack/Liz, Jack/Other
Spoilers: through 'Black Light Attack!'
Word Count (this part): 2,623
Rating (this part): NC-17
Summary: Following Jack's wedding, Liz tries to distract herself. (Sequel to " I Wish I Were the One You're Looking For.")
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Title is from the song 'Poison & Wine' by The Civil Wars. Don't sue.
*
The thing Liz remembers most about the wedding -- and she remembers it well, remembers how ill-at-ease she felt in her Marina-approved dress, remembers her toast about how happy Jack's been, how much she wants this for him (and she wondered if the fact that her humiliation was private made it less of one), remembers having no one to talk to because Jenna (who forced Liz to wrangle an invitation from Jack because it was going to be a 'huge social event' that a star of her stature *had* to be at) was busy mingling -- is how out of place she felt. Not just because she didn't want to be there, because she wanted to run and hide, but because it was the opposite of the wedding she could envision herself having. It was so fancy and expensive and Marina was entirely comfortable with having everyone's eyes on her. With being the center of attention. It would have made Liz squirm, she knows.
It reminded her of why she and Jack didn't fit. It reminded her of how much she wished they could.
*
Jack would never cuddle on the couch and watch Dancing with the Stars with her.
She remembers, back when she and Danny were first fooling around, Jack disdainfully saying, "You have him watching ice-dancing, Lemon," and declaring that a steady diet of makeout sessions and television watched only by women and gay men had left Danny emasculated.
But now they're having sex, so she couldn't have weakened his manliness through "high-school-freshman-level activities, or as you would call it, your ideal romantic life." She's letting him be a man, and this is the sort of man he is. He's a nice guy who will hang out with his... not girlfriend... fuck buddy? She's not Carrie Bradshaw, she can't call a guy that. He can hang out with a woman he's sleeping with, have a low-key evening of reality TV and be *content.* He's exactly what she needs. He's exactly what someone like her *needs.*
(Why isn't he what she wants?)
She pulls him in for a kiss during the recap. Takes him to her bed.
*
Maybe she's attracted to Jack because of her low self-esteem. Like when she threw herself at Jackie Mason or said, "That's what Mama likes," when Don Rickles called her a hockey puck. (She hasn't gone to see an insult comedian in years.) But, if her wanting Jack was about that, wouldn't what she feels for him be just about sex? Wouldn't she want to throw herself at him every time he laughed at the idea that she was anywhere near his league or questioned her fashion choices? Wouldn't it sting less, be more of a thrill? Not that it always stings. Sometimes, she smiles. Sometimes, it feels playful and teasing.
This (except for the moments when she forgets he's wearing a ring on his finger) was way before he told her he was getting married. Before she felt her stomach turn, before she realized what that reaction meant. Before she thought about all the reasons it was futile to tell Jack she didn't want him to get married.
One thing she can say: her low self-esteem is probably part of the reason why she's uncomfortable with the way Danny is touching her, looking at her. Running his hand over her stomach, placing kisses on her breasts. She's suspicious. He can't really be so into this, right? She doesn't have the world's greatest boobs. But when she imagines Jack studying her this way, casting his gaze on her naked body, examining her with his decidedly critical eye, the concept is no more thrilling. No less unnerving. Though if Jack were to get to a point where he'd allow himself to get into bed with her, he'd probably pretend her flaws are nonexistent or endearing, right? Or he'd actually believe it. (Sometimes, she feels as if she loves him more because of his imperfections, but she thinks the key is just that she loves him.) He's good at that stuff. Romance. Fake romance of the I want to have sex with this woman sort, or the more genuine I'm crazy about this woman and want her to know it kind.
If he wanted her, he'd know how to make her feel desirable.
What an if, huh?
*
At a certain point, she can't refuse Jack's invitations anymore. So she goes home and gets changed into her plain black dress, which isn't an outfit that tries to be sexy, which is an outfit that became her default 'dinner with Jack' dress before he got married, when they used to spend more time together. She lets her hair stay loose.
Marina looks beautiful. Of course she does. Liz lies and says, "It's really good to see you."
As the evening wears on, Liz finds herself looking for cracks in their relationship. Proof that things are going badly. (As if it would change anything.) And she finds herself unmoved by her own findings, by the moments Marina leans away from him, by the silences. Nothing that makes them an unhappily married couple. Just a married couple.
He still steals adoring glances at her.
"I feel like a third wheel," Liz says, after one of those glances. It's stating the obvious, but also bringing up something no one's acknowledged. "The next time I go out to dinner with the two of you, I'm going to bring a date."
By that time, she'll be over this and everything will be fine.
"You're not a third wheel," Marina assures her.
"No, I am. It doesn't have to be a bad thing, right? Tricycles can be good. And you take one of the wheels off a tricycle, you can't ride that thing."
She takes a sip of her wine to stop herself from talking.
Jack doesn't say anything for a moment as he watches her; not critically, exactly, but she knows he's thinking *something.* She assumes he can tell she's uncomfortable. She knows he can't tell why, or else he wouldn't say: "I want you here, Lemon; that means you're not a third wheel."
At the end of the evening, Liz leaves while Jack is paying the check. She's so relieved to be out of there, so glad that she has a reason to avoid an evening like this for a while.
For the next couple weeks, Danny is at her apartment, in her bed, every other night.
*
On one of those nights, a Wednesday, Jack calls her. Danny knows it's him at almost the same time Liz does, as he glances over to see Jack's picture on the screen while she leans over him to pick her phone up off the nightstand. She turns as she answers, not wanting Danny to see her face in case Jack says something that makes her smile in a way that might be too... telling. She doesn't, though, or at least she's not aware of it.
She smiles, yeah, when she says goodbye. But it's not too much. And even if it is, Danny doesn't see her, so he can't know. After she hangs up, she puts her feet back up on the bed, lying down next to him. After a few moments, Danny says:
"I used to think the two of you would end up together."
The words startle her because, well, does she really have to think about this lie? This thing that could only ever be a lie because why would Jack want her? What would he love her? (She asked him that once, as a joke. She asked him as a joke, and he couldn't be bothered to joke back.) "Well," she says lightly, "you lost that bet. You didn't bet, right?"
"I didn't."
"Good."
"He told me about what happened between the two of you."
"Nothing happened," she says. "You mean... what, when he told me how he felt?" Danny nods. She wonders when it was supposed to have happened, this confession. Did Jack kill the façade soon after it began? Did he do it later, while he was hoping Nancy would leave her husband? Did he do it when he met Marina? She can't ask, of course, since she's supposed to live in the same reality as Danny, where Jack was in love with her and she rejected him... Why? "I didn't know he told you about that." Liz tucks a bit of hair behind her ear. Makes an educated guess. "It was, you know, sweet and everything, and very flattering, but I didn't feel the same way. I just... I couldn't feel the way about him that he felt about me, you know? I couldn't do that." She pauses. "We never would have worked anyway, and I knew that. I mean--" She should stop explaining this; stop giving herself a chance to seem more and more transparent, more and more nervous, more and more obviously not telling the whole truth, or even a fraction of it. "--you can't make something work that *can't* work. You can't force yourself to love someone."
She slides a hand up Danny's bare chest. Kisses him because she doesn't want to talk.
She doesn't want to say another word about Jack.
*
When they have sex again that night -- they don't usually do it twice in a night, but after some kissing, he's hard and it seems right to allow more sex -- she gets on all fours. Even though it's not something she feels comfortable with, at least not really (she's done it before and it wasn't particularly enjoyable, but she did do it with Dennis, so), she's the one who suggests it. Because they've been having sex in the same two positions. Because she doesn't want to look at him, doesn't want to look at him while Jack and the love he doesn't feel for her is still fresh on her mind, and she feels so guilty. Feels even guiltier when Danny's pushing inside her and she wonders if Jack likes having sex this way. Wonders about the way he's fucked other women, about the way he fucks his wife. The way he makes love to his wife.
When Danny's completely inside her, it feels good enough to make her forget. Or rather, to make her remember. Remember that she's in bed with someone who isn't Jack (he can't ever be Jack, and at some point that will seem like an entirely good thing), that she's with Danny, and she tightens around him as one of her hands becomes a fist around the loose sheet. He keeps his hands on her hips as he thrusts, his groans coming out in short bursts. She thinks of Jack again, and it makes her feel worse than the other times her mind has wandered. Worse than the first time she had sex with Danny, because she's supposed to be feeling better. She's supposed to be *getting over* this, she's supposed to be having fun, and she's still imagining an impossibility in the place of reality.
"Harder, okay?" she mutters uncertainly. "Harder."
Danny obliges, but she asks him again. And again, until he's pounding into her, until the pain of his pelvis hitting her is equal to the pleasure of him inside her. Her moans become sharp gasps, and she tells him not to stop. Tells him yes because she's not thinking now, not feeling anything but this. She comes, and she's kind of surprised by the feeling, surprised that she's having an orgasm this way. Surprised by how quickly Jack rushes back into her mind, and she leans forward, resting her forehead on her hands, gasping and groaning as Danny keeps going until he comes.
After he collapses on the bed next to her, still out of breath, she lies on her side, turned away from him.
"Wow," he says.
"Yeah," she replies. Adds a joke: "I bet you didn't think an old lady could wear you out."
"You're not old."
"I am," she says. Old and running out of time, and why does everyone always have more time than she does? Why is she always steps behind, why can't she catch up? "I am old."
She feels Danny's hand on her back. "Are you okay?"
She turns to him. "Of course." She kisses him. "That was awesome," she says, lips close to his. "Really, really awesome."
*
Jack says, "I'm worried about you."
"You're..." she begins. "...why? Wait, are we still talking about ratings?"
"No."
"Okay."
"I don't think you're happy."
She shrugs. "When do I ever seem happy to you, really?"
"If you want to talk about anything--"
She nods. "I will keep your offer in mind. But, seriously, Jack. I'm fine." She pauses. "And you're doing fine, right?"
"I am."
"Good. Awesome."
*
Liz and Danny haven't done the roleplaying thing in a while. Because they've been having sex in her apartment, away from the studio and the costumes. Well. They never had roleplay sex before. They had roleplay making out. But now they're going to have roleplay sex, as Danny is in his CHiPS costume and Liz has slid her panties down her legs (and slipped them into her purse because, God, how mortifying would misplacing her underwear be?), and put her shoes back on before perching herself at the edge of her desk.
"Oh, officer," she says, "I'm glad that road work is causing such long traffic delays."
She presses her mouth against his as her hands go south of the border, unzipping him. He moans into her mouth as she strokes him, and she mutters, "Is that good?" as he pulls back. She wants an answer but he doesn't give it, and then he's grabbing the condom off the desk. He puts it on and she wonders if she should take off his helmet before the sex, but she kind of likes it, him having everything on. Her having everything on. (So is it more her being comfortable with a lack of nudity than liking the costume?) Or maybe it's the urgency. The sense that she wants this, wants *him* right now.
She gasps as he starts to push inside her, and she wraps her legs around him. Then she's glad he still has his pants on for a new reason; they're probably dulling the pain of having a pair of heels digging into him. She doesn't want to hurt him. She likes him. She likes this, she tells herself, and she grabs onto his shoulders as he moves inside her. She moans, tilting her hips so he push deeper in. Moans and moans as the repetition sets in, the in and out and listening to him moan in return. She closes her eyes, rests her head against his chest.
The door slams.
Danny jumps back, and she pulls her dress down even though no one's in the room but her and Danny. There's a moment where they stare at each other. She takes a deep breath.
"Oh my God," she mutters. "This is... this is bad."
"Maybe it wasn't anyone," Danny says. "Maybe it was a janitor. I'm not saying janitors aren't people, I'm saying a janitor won't make a big deal about it. Jenna would make a big deal."
"I know. I know."
Liz keeps muttering to herself -- mostly about how stupid she is, because how could she not lock the door? -- until her phone pings, signaling a new text. She grabs it, thinking it's not a coincidence. It's from Jack. It says:
I need to talk to you first thing in the morning.
She feels like she's going to be sick.
End Part Three of Four
Continue on to Part Four