Danny Ex Machina by villainny
Title: Danny Ex Machina
Word Count: 922
Rating: gen
Summary: “Jeremy’s got hiccups,” Dan announced, at just about the same time, and everyone fell silent and stared at him with enough intensity that he shrank a little further back in his chair.
“…I do?” He shook his head jerkily and frowned. “I don’t have hiccups, I have amnesia.”
“Try holding your breath.”
Jeremy quit rubbing his eyes and blinked up at Elliott fuzzily, fingers wrapped tightly around the frames of his glasses.
“Really?”
Elliott shrugged.
“Couldn’t hurt.”
“Well, technically,” Dave began, before Kim sailed past and tapped Elliott on the head with what was probably women’s soccer scores for the early twenties.
“That’s for hiccups,” she sing-songed, bringing the folder around in a neat sweep for a triple-pointer on Dave’s ass.
“It is?” Jeremy fumbled his glasses back onto his face and blinked up at them all with a pained expression. “See, I should have known that. I’m the guy you ask stuff like that.”
“Actually I’m pretty sure Dana’s the go-to-gal for ridiculous home remedies.” Dan wandered up with his tie looped loosely around his neck.
People had pretty much given up on a clock after the third one had fallen victim to the Great VolleyNerfball tournament of ‘06. (Possibly 06:30. No one had actually been able to tell.) It turned out that Dan’s tie was a decent enough substitute in the absence of analogue time pieces; casually slung around his neck meant Dana hadn’t bothered catching up to him yet, which still gave them a good couple hours before show time. He tugged absently on one side of it, evening it up a little. “I’m pretty sure you could count on her for chanting, if chanting was required.”
“There’s chanting?”
Casey’s tie was, naturally, perfect.
“There’s chanting and I wasn’t invited?”
“There’s really no chanting,” Jeremy offered, not really holding out any hopes of being listened to. It was a couple of hours before showtime which meant that they were both literally and figuratively way beyond the twilight zone, at this point. All you could really do was hang on as tight as you could with both hands and hope like hell for the best.
“Hey,” Dan’s voice was loud enough to break into his train of thought and his hands were raised defensively, “no one’s impugning your chanting skills, Case.”
Seriously, he loved this job.
Chris, who was passing with a roll of painfully bright yellow cable, apparently heard Dan’s defence and swivelled neatly on his heel.
“Why’re we chanting?”
“Nobody’s chanting,” Jeremy put in doggedly.
“Jeremy’s got hiccups,” Dan announced, at just about the same time, and everyone fell silent and stared at him with enough intensity that he shrank a little further back in his chair.
“…I do?” He shook his head jerkily and frowned. “I don’t have hiccups, I have amnesia.”
Casey raised an eyebrow.
“You have amnesia?”
“I have amnesia.” He pulled his feet, clad in battered white tennis shoes, up onto the couch. “I think I have amnesia. I know I‘m forgetting something. And I‘m pretty sure I‘m going to be in trouble for it.”
“Hunh,” said Dan. “Don’t hold your breath, then. That’s for hiccups.”
“That’s what I said,” Kim put in helpfully, sashaying past at improbable speed with a different set of files in her hands, files which Casey made a futile grab for, darting after her as she sped towards Dana’s office.
“I’m all out, then,” Elliott added, raising his hands helplessly before tugging Chris towards the control booth by the cable looped over his shoulder.
Jeremy let out a faint moan and let his head fall against the back of the couch.
“Nobody cares that I have amnesia,” he whined, then almost jumped out of his skin as Dan’s hand dropped heavily onto his shoulder.
“Hey, man, I care. Know what works? Retracing your steps.” Dan’s mouth quirked into a crooked grin and Jeremy cowered a little deeper in his chair. “Follow me.”
“Um,” said Jeremy, a few minutes later.
“Um?” repeated Dan, absently, straightening the bow tie under Jeremy’s chin.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the effort, Dan, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never been standing in wardrobe wearing your tux before…”
“This is very true, my friend.”
Somehow it was pretty hard to trust Dan when he grinned like that.
“So how is this going to help with the amnesia?” he asked, his stomach sinking.
“That is a question for the ages,” answered Dan. “And while we’re pondering that, Monica can come shorten the pants like she’s been after me to do for the past three weeks. Since you can’t remember what you’re supposed to be doing, and all.”
“Right,” said Jeremy, hopelessly. He was learning to hate Dan’s grins.
“Come on.”
Dan tugged him across to his and Casey’s office, which was strangely neat and inexplicably teaming with candles.
“Light’s dead,” Dan offered before he had a chance to ask, then leant over to pick something up from the couch.
“Is this really the best light for sewing? I don’t want to strain Monica’s eyes…” his voice trailed off as Dan shoved a bouquet of red roses into his arms.
Jeremy stared at it for a second.
At Dan.
Back at the flowers.
Back at Dan, who shrugged and grinned, if possible, even wider.
“…thank you?”
And then there was a soft gasp from the doorway where Casey was standing with a guiding hand on the small of Natalie’s back. Natalie would normally have protested that kind of treatment but it looked like she was distracted, her eyes a little misty and a steadily growing smile on her face.
“You remembered.”
“Happy six months kinda-dating not-anniversary, Jeremy,” Dan muttered into his ear, then went to join Casey by the door, grinning in his most impossibly smug way.
Jeremy was pretty sure he could forgive him.
Word Count: 922
Rating: gen
Summary: “Jeremy’s got hiccups,” Dan announced, at just about the same time, and everyone fell silent and stared at him with enough intensity that he shrank a little further back in his chair.
“…I do?” He shook his head jerkily and frowned. “I don’t have hiccups, I have amnesia.”
“Try holding your breath.”
Jeremy quit rubbing his eyes and blinked up at Elliott fuzzily, fingers wrapped tightly around the frames of his glasses.
“Really?”
Elliott shrugged.
“Couldn’t hurt.”
“Well, technically,” Dave began, before Kim sailed past and tapped Elliott on the head with what was probably women’s soccer scores for the early twenties.
“That’s for hiccups,” she sing-songed, bringing the folder around in a neat sweep for a triple-pointer on Dave’s ass.
“It is?” Jeremy fumbled his glasses back onto his face and blinked up at them all with a pained expression. “See, I should have known that. I’m the guy you ask stuff like that.”
“Actually I’m pretty sure Dana’s the go-to-gal for ridiculous home remedies.” Dan wandered up with his tie looped loosely around his neck.
People had pretty much given up on a clock after the third one had fallen victim to the Great VolleyNerfball tournament of ‘06. (Possibly 06:30. No one had actually been able to tell.) It turned out that Dan’s tie was a decent enough substitute in the absence of analogue time pieces; casually slung around his neck meant Dana hadn’t bothered catching up to him yet, which still gave them a good couple hours before show time. He tugged absently on one side of it, evening it up a little. “I’m pretty sure you could count on her for chanting, if chanting was required.”
“There’s chanting?”
Casey’s tie was, naturally, perfect.
“There’s chanting and I wasn’t invited?”
“There’s really no chanting,” Jeremy offered, not really holding out any hopes of being listened to. It was a couple of hours before showtime which meant that they were both literally and figuratively way beyond the twilight zone, at this point. All you could really do was hang on as tight as you could with both hands and hope like hell for the best.
“Hey,” Dan’s voice was loud enough to break into his train of thought and his hands were raised defensively, “no one’s impugning your chanting skills, Case.”
Seriously, he loved this job.
Chris, who was passing with a roll of painfully bright yellow cable, apparently heard Dan’s defence and swivelled neatly on his heel.
“Why’re we chanting?”
“Nobody’s chanting,” Jeremy put in doggedly.
“Jeremy’s got hiccups,” Dan announced, at just about the same time, and everyone fell silent and stared at him with enough intensity that he shrank a little further back in his chair.
“…I do?” He shook his head jerkily and frowned. “I don’t have hiccups, I have amnesia.”
Casey raised an eyebrow.
“You have amnesia?”
“I have amnesia.” He pulled his feet, clad in battered white tennis shoes, up onto the couch. “I think I have amnesia. I know I‘m forgetting something. And I‘m pretty sure I‘m going to be in trouble for it.”
“Hunh,” said Dan. “Don’t hold your breath, then. That’s for hiccups.”
“That’s what I said,” Kim put in helpfully, sashaying past at improbable speed with a different set of files in her hands, files which Casey made a futile grab for, darting after her as she sped towards Dana’s office.
“I’m all out, then,” Elliott added, raising his hands helplessly before tugging Chris towards the control booth by the cable looped over his shoulder.
Jeremy let out a faint moan and let his head fall against the back of the couch.
“Nobody cares that I have amnesia,” he whined, then almost jumped out of his skin as Dan’s hand dropped heavily onto his shoulder.
“Hey, man, I care. Know what works? Retracing your steps.” Dan’s mouth quirked into a crooked grin and Jeremy cowered a little deeper in his chair. “Follow me.”
“Um,” said Jeremy, a few minutes later.
“Um?” repeated Dan, absently, straightening the bow tie under Jeremy’s chin.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the effort, Dan, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never been standing in wardrobe wearing your tux before…”
“This is very true, my friend.”
Somehow it was pretty hard to trust Dan when he grinned like that.
“So how is this going to help with the amnesia?” he asked, his stomach sinking.
“That is a question for the ages,” answered Dan. “And while we’re pondering that, Monica can come shorten the pants like she’s been after me to do for the past three weeks. Since you can’t remember what you’re supposed to be doing, and all.”
“Right,” said Jeremy, hopelessly. He was learning to hate Dan’s grins.
“Come on.”
Dan tugged him across to his and Casey’s office, which was strangely neat and inexplicably teaming with candles.
“Light’s dead,” Dan offered before he had a chance to ask, then leant over to pick something up from the couch.
“Is this really the best light for sewing? I don’t want to strain Monica’s eyes…” his voice trailed off as Dan shoved a bouquet of red roses into his arms.
Jeremy stared at it for a second.
At Dan.
Back at the flowers.
Back at Dan, who shrugged and grinned, if possible, even wider.
“…thank you?”
And then there was a soft gasp from the doorway where Casey was standing with a guiding hand on the small of Natalie’s back. Natalie would normally have protested that kind of treatment but it looked like she was distracted, her eyes a little misty and a steadily growing smile on her face.
“You remembered.”
“Happy six months kinda-dating not-anniversary, Jeremy,” Dan muttered into his ear, then went to join Casey by the door, grinning in his most impossibly smug way.
Jeremy was pretty sure he could forgive him.