Fic: Another Sky (2/11)
Another Sky (2/11)
by me, doctorpancakes
Fandom: Nathan Barley
Pairing: Dan/Jones
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1046, this chapter (2244 so far)
Warnings: Respectable jobs in television
Disclaimer: I own the Nathan Barley Show on DVD, but I don't own, you know, like these characters and such. Except the ones I made myself.
Author's Notes: Things begin happening!
Chapter One
At six (or possibly more like six-twenty, following a brief disagreement over whether Dan looked ridiculous in Jones’ decidedly snug-fitting Fad Gadget tshirt - the only one clean enough to warrant visiting in) Dan and Jones arrived at Claire’s flat for tea and news. She opened the door, and facepalmed.
“Did I not say presentable?” she demanded. “For fuck’s sake, what are you wearing?”
Dan glanced down at his wardrobe: blazer only slightly rumpled, the words FAD GADGET stretched comically across his chest, the hint of fuzzy, 39-year-old man belly visible between shirt and waistband, jeans still somehow holding themselves together, and the same trainers he’d been wearing since some time before he left Sugar Ape, and that was a good five years.
“What?” he squinted, stubbing out his cigarette on the sole of his shoe, and stepping into Claire’s front vestibule.
Claire’s flat looked like an Ikea showroom, painted in buttery off-white and filled with the kind of plain blond wood furniture that looks really good in the catalogue but turns out you like the least of anything once you actually get into the store, but you buy anyway because it’s the cheapest, then treat yourself to a cinnamon bun and a coffee, because that’s just what you do when you decide to make a day of it at an Ikea.
“What’s this about, sis?” asked Dan, with great trepidation. “You all right for money?”
“For God’s sake,” Claire rolled her eyes. “I am still working on Blue Peter. I’m more employed than you are. Not everything’s about money, you know.”
“How’s the film coming, Claire?” asked Jones, smiling.
“Yeah, you know...” she smiled uncomfortably, “it’s, umm, it’s on the backburner, at the moment, you know, I’m really busy with the show, and umm, but it’s good, yeah, I think it’s going to be good.”
Claire shifted; Dan and Jones smiled apologetically. Claire had moved out of the House of Jones and into her sunny little flat six months after Dan fell out of a window, when she had a) had enough of Jones’ sound experiments preventing her from ever getting more than four minutes of sleep at a time; b) had enough of having to tiptoe around Dan and Jones’ then burgeoning and (presumably due to Dan’s reticence more than anything else) still ostensibly not-quite-public romance; and c) been hired to work as an associate producer on the long-running children’s television show Blue Peter. She had sworn resolutely at the time that the job was temporary, and would last no more than a year; as such, she said, it would allow her to be able to feed herself and pay rent whilst also saving up funds for her documentary project, which she would continue to work on in her spare time. Somewhere along the way, her projected timeline expanded from one year to two, from two to three, from three to four, and by then she had given up setting herself a date at all. She found herself increasingly often too tired at the end of a day’s work to get much filming or editing done of her own, and when she was on holiday or hiatus, she most often felt like not doing much of anything at all.
But she would get it done one of these days, she told herself. Just as soon as she was ready to take that leap.
“Yeah, the project’s kind of stalled,” she said, staring sadly at the floor.
“What’s this about, then?” asked Dan.
“You know how you two have been looking to adopt?” said Claire. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. She’s coming round with Nathan.”
Nathan, AKA as Nathan fucking Barley, the perennial bane of Dan’s existence. A man who, for reasons totally unbeknownst to Dan, his younger sister apparently still tolerated.
“Nathan,” sighed Dan. “Really? Still?”
“Can you at least try and be nice to Nathan?” sighed Claire.
“But he’s an idiot,” squinted Dan.
“You know, it was Nathan’s idea that I should introduce you to this woman in the first place,” she said. “So would it kill you not to be a complete prick to him?”
“Oh come on, you’re not sleeping with him, are you?” Dan facepalmed.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” said Claire, rubbing distractedly at her neck as she studied a corner of the ceiling.
---
If Carys Ffordd Allan looked like anything, it was almost disturbingly fitting how much she resembled a stork: she stood on a pair of skinny legs, which seemed to stretch nearly up to her armpits, and Jones marveled at how such spindly, stick-insect apendages could hold up her already heavy bosom, let alone the burgeoning swell of her belly, which would only grow to even more oppressive proportions as the months went on. Her dark hair was scraped into a ludicrous side ponytail, which only served to accentuate the curiously birdlike nature of her features.
“You must be the gays,” she said. “You looking to adopt, or what?”
“Are you...?” Dan began, reaching for adjectives.
“Carys, your baby-mama,” she smiled. “Hi.”
“Hi,” said Dan. “I’m Dan Ashcroft, and this is Jones.”
“Alright,” smiled Jones.
“So, I guess there’s going to be some paperwork to take care of,” said Dan. “You know, to sort out how this is all going to work.”
“Well basically, I think I can actually sum up how it will work for you,” she explained, “there’s a baby in my tummy, and I’ll carry it for a few months, then somehow squeeze it out of my vagina, and then the rest is up to you.”
“That’s it?” asked Jones.
“That’s it,” said Carys.
It turns out it was slightly more complicated than all that, but after a brief hammering out of terms, an agreement was reached which was acceptable to all, and apart from a later meeting to sort out the legal hassles involved, Dan and Jones were, for all intents and purposes, expectant parents.
Chapter Three
by me, doctorpancakes
Fandom: Nathan Barley
Pairing: Dan/Jones
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1046, this chapter (2244 so far)
Warnings: Respectable jobs in television
Disclaimer: I own the Nathan Barley Show on DVD, but I don't own, you know, like these characters and such. Except the ones I made myself.
Author's Notes: Things begin happening!
Chapter One
At six (or possibly more like six-twenty, following a brief disagreement over whether Dan looked ridiculous in Jones’ decidedly snug-fitting Fad Gadget tshirt - the only one clean enough to warrant visiting in) Dan and Jones arrived at Claire’s flat for tea and news. She opened the door, and facepalmed.
“Did I not say presentable?” she demanded. “For fuck’s sake, what are you wearing?”
Dan glanced down at his wardrobe: blazer only slightly rumpled, the words FAD GADGET stretched comically across his chest, the hint of fuzzy, 39-year-old man belly visible between shirt and waistband, jeans still somehow holding themselves together, and the same trainers he’d been wearing since some time before he left Sugar Ape, and that was a good five years.
“What?” he squinted, stubbing out his cigarette on the sole of his shoe, and stepping into Claire’s front vestibule.
Claire’s flat looked like an Ikea showroom, painted in buttery off-white and filled with the kind of plain blond wood furniture that looks really good in the catalogue but turns out you like the least of anything once you actually get into the store, but you buy anyway because it’s the cheapest, then treat yourself to a cinnamon bun and a coffee, because that’s just what you do when you decide to make a day of it at an Ikea.
“What’s this about, sis?” asked Dan, with great trepidation. “You all right for money?”
“For God’s sake,” Claire rolled her eyes. “I am still working on Blue Peter. I’m more employed than you are. Not everything’s about money, you know.”
“How’s the film coming, Claire?” asked Jones, smiling.
“Yeah, you know...” she smiled uncomfortably, “it’s, umm, it’s on the backburner, at the moment, you know, I’m really busy with the show, and umm, but it’s good, yeah, I think it’s going to be good.”
Claire shifted; Dan and Jones smiled apologetically. Claire had moved out of the House of Jones and into her sunny little flat six months after Dan fell out of a window, when she had a) had enough of Jones’ sound experiments preventing her from ever getting more than four minutes of sleep at a time; b) had enough of having to tiptoe around Dan and Jones’ then burgeoning and (presumably due to Dan’s reticence more than anything else) still ostensibly not-quite-public romance; and c) been hired to work as an associate producer on the long-running children’s television show Blue Peter. She had sworn resolutely at the time that the job was temporary, and would last no more than a year; as such, she said, it would allow her to be able to feed herself and pay rent whilst also saving up funds for her documentary project, which she would continue to work on in her spare time. Somewhere along the way, her projected timeline expanded from one year to two, from two to three, from three to four, and by then she had given up setting herself a date at all. She found herself increasingly often too tired at the end of a day’s work to get much filming or editing done of her own, and when she was on holiday or hiatus, she most often felt like not doing much of anything at all.
But she would get it done one of these days, she told herself. Just as soon as she was ready to take that leap.
“Yeah, the project’s kind of stalled,” she said, staring sadly at the floor.
“What’s this about, then?” asked Dan.
“You know how you two have been looking to adopt?” said Claire. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. She’s coming round with Nathan.”
Nathan, AKA as Nathan fucking Barley, the perennial bane of Dan’s existence. A man who, for reasons totally unbeknownst to Dan, his younger sister apparently still tolerated.
“Nathan,” sighed Dan. “Really? Still?”
“Can you at least try and be nice to Nathan?” sighed Claire.
“But he’s an idiot,” squinted Dan.
“You know, it was Nathan’s idea that I should introduce you to this woman in the first place,” she said. “So would it kill you not to be a complete prick to him?”
“Oh come on, you’re not sleeping with him, are you?” Dan facepalmed.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” said Claire, rubbing distractedly at her neck as she studied a corner of the ceiling.
---
If Carys Ffordd Allan looked like anything, it was almost disturbingly fitting how much she resembled a stork: she stood on a pair of skinny legs, which seemed to stretch nearly up to her armpits, and Jones marveled at how such spindly, stick-insect apendages could hold up her already heavy bosom, let alone the burgeoning swell of her belly, which would only grow to even more oppressive proportions as the months went on. Her dark hair was scraped into a ludicrous side ponytail, which only served to accentuate the curiously birdlike nature of her features.
“You must be the gays,” she said. “You looking to adopt, or what?”
“Are you...?” Dan began, reaching for adjectives.
“Carys, your baby-mama,” she smiled. “Hi.”
“Hi,” said Dan. “I’m Dan Ashcroft, and this is Jones.”
“Alright,” smiled Jones.
“So, I guess there’s going to be some paperwork to take care of,” said Dan. “You know, to sort out how this is all going to work.”
“Well basically, I think I can actually sum up how it will work for you,” she explained, “there’s a baby in my tummy, and I’ll carry it for a few months, then somehow squeeze it out of my vagina, and then the rest is up to you.”
“That’s it?” asked Jones.
“That’s it,” said Carys.
It turns out it was slightly more complicated than all that, but after a brief hammering out of terms, an agreement was reached which was acceptable to all, and apart from a later meeting to sort out the legal hassles involved, Dan and Jones were, for all intents and purposes, expectant parents.
Chapter Three