Summary: Dan puts laundry to good use, luring Casey into his denim of iniquity. Will he cotton up to his crime?
Fandom: Sports Night
Warnings: Fluff (and fold) warning
Spoilers: Don't do what Dan does, unless you want to spoil your clothes.
Title, Author and URL of original story: Monday Morning Blues, by phoebesmum, http://phoebesmum.livejournal.com/219693.html
Operation "Lift Casey's Head out of his Ass, (and) Into Mine", which Dan double-secretly (since the plan was his alone), and cleverly (he thought) shortened to "L'CHAIM", began on a Saturday.
He spent it at his parents', where. like always, his mom did the load of laundry he brought, despite his half-hearted protests that he was perfectly capable of doing it himself, (He could cook, too, but it was always nicer when someone who loved you did it for you.) He'd left his better clothes at home, of course. This was just casual stuff. Nothing he was too worried about shrinking, and in fact one -- special -- pair of jeans he hoped would fit rather better once they'd gone a round through the Kenmore from Hell.
That Monday, Dan timed it perfectly. and called from his car to say "Traffic's a bitch, I'll be a little late, sorry." When he came through the door awhile later, Casey's attention barely left his script. He just glanced up and mumbled a greeting, eyes returning immediately to the screen. Dan figured it was a good thing one of them was thinking about work, at least until he took a second look.
When Casey's glance turns into a gaping stare (really, he looks a little ridiculous), Dan is sure he's done the trick. The line of "theeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" Dan sees repeated on the computer when he walks up to Casey backs him up.
“Danny?” Casey's eyes grew huge, like the paintings of children on 1970s posters, which was really a weird thing to think about with regard to someone you'd like to be naked with, but Casey made Dan do all sorts of weird things, case in point, Operation L'CHAIM.
“M’m?” Dan aimed for studied nonchalance, or perhaps a devil-may-care insouciance, but suspected it sounded more like embarrassed belligerence. Not exactly hitting it out of the old ballpark.
“What are you wearing?” He'd like to hear Casey ask that during different circumstances, say, over the phone, when his hand is on his dick, and he can imagine Casey's is, too.
“You want the whole list? Reeboks, sweatshirt, teeshirt, 501s, Calvins, socks …”He shrugs disarmingly. No need for Casey to know he's being drawn into Dan's trap. Let Casey think Dan was mortified by his limited choice in Levi's. Casey will either laugh (he hasn't laughed enough lately, and Dan's okay with being the joke this time) or say something to comfort him, either would work for Dan.
“Danny. I don’t want you to think I was staring at your ass or anything, but those jeans …” You were definitely staring, Casey, and soon you'll own up to it.
Dan moved gingerly around the office till he was behind the table, but didn’t sit down. “Something wrong with them?” he asked, forcing a casual tone.
“Don’t you think they’re a little … um …” My god, Casey was sweating.
“Did you buy the wrong size?”
Dan could practically hear the gears turn in Casey's head, or rather in his neck as he looked Dan up and down, and up and down again. Dan almost wanted to say 'hey, my face is up here', except that of course he meant for Casey to look. Hell, he practically built his a nest of shiny rocks, and displayed his bright orange ass for Casey to admire. (Yeah, maybe he had been watching a bit too much Animal Planet lately. What of it?) Dan let out a sigh, and finally, extremely carefully, sat. “You know I went up to my parents’ place Saturday evening?”
Dan squirmed a little, until it pinched somewhere unpleasant. Love apparently did hurt. “Well. My mom thought she’d do my laundry while I was up there.”
“And?” Mr McCall, thy middle name is not 'patience'.
“Casey, you know my mom’s not good at that stuff.” Dan glanced down at himself; Casey thought he winced. “I guess she boiled them, or something. They – well, they shrank.” Yeah, after he moved the dial to 'extra-hot'.
“Yes,” Casey raised an eyebrow, “they certainly did.”
Dan shifted uncomfortably again. “I was hoping they’d ease up a little …”
“Does it look like it?”
Casey had been trying not to look, Dan could tell. But he had no willpower against the appeal of these particular 501s, or hopefully their owner. He looked. He kept looking until Dan could feel the weight and heat of his stare like Casey was Clark Kent. Actually not the worst analogy in the world. Finally, he got himself together, and managed to tear his eyes away. “No,” he said, lamely, “I guess not.” Then he grinned. “You know, they remind me of that joke about why there's no dancing at the Amish Prom – ”
Dan laughed as insincerely as he could muster. “Already heard it.” He eased himself up out of his chair again.
“Going somewhere?” Yes, before he shriveled up and died. Casey'd better have gotten the point by now.
“It hurts to sit,” Dan said sadly. “I’m going to have to figure out a whole new way of working.”
“Guess your mom’s not in any hurry for grandkids, huh?” Casey could be an ass, but he was Dan's ass. Besides, Dan thought his mom probably wasn't expecting any kids from him. That didn't excuse Casey, though. Dan shot him a dirty look.
Then Dana stuck her head through the doorway. “Oh-my-good-lord-almighty!”
Dan glared at her. “Is that all you have to say?”
It took her a good fifteen seconds to stop laughing. “Danny, if I said what I’m really thinking right now, QV would still be paying off their sexual harassment lawyers 20 years down the line. You’d better go home and change.”
Dan breathed out a huge sigh of relief. “Can I?” Inanely, he heard his second grade teacher, Mrs Sanders, say "May I", dear.
“I think you’d better. Before Kim sees you.”
A long, low whistle came from the direction of the bullpen. Dan groaned.
“That wasn’t Kim,” Natalie said helpfully. Where had she come from? Dan hadn't thought too clearly about the whole gang being around for this. “That was Elliott.” She crossed over to Dan and circled him like he was the deer Jeremy hadn't wanted to hunt. Sizing him up. Finally, she went in for the kill. “You know, Danny, you should go work for the post office. ‘Cause that’s an awfully big – ”
“I’m going home!” Enough was enough. Now he kind of was embarrassed. He walked off as quickly as he could,which wasn't very fast, considering.
Casey caught up with him by the elevator. “I’ll drive you,” he told him.
“I can manage,” Dan said. “I made it all the way down here, didn’t I?” Yeah, let Casey work for it, a little. Dan wasn;'t going to protest too much.
“And you want to handle the cross-town traffic, too?”
Dan let his shoulders slump in defeat. “Not really.”
“Well,” Casey said, as he followed Dan through the elevator doors, “you just had to get a stick shift …”
They didn't talk all that much on the drive, but Dan made sure to stretch in such a way that his jeans showed him off to best advantage. It helped that it was the only way to get at all comfortable. He even ended up unbuttoning a few buttons, too, and reaching in to try and stretch the material a bit.
When they finally made it to Dan's apartment, he went in to change, and to generously allow Casey a moment to recover. He came out of his bathroom and huffed out a sigh of relief. “Sweatpants! Maybe they’re not a fashion statement, but God. They’ve never felt so good.”
Casey looked up from his document – he was still working on the script; it was the only way Dana had agreed to let both of them out of her sight – and nodded. “Feeling a little better, now?”
“A lot.” Dan collapsed next to him on the couch and spread his legs out. “Oh, god, that really does feel good!”
“You can spare me the details,” Casey said hurriedly, and snapped his laptop shut. “You wearing those back to work?”
“I’m making it Casual Monday,” Dan said. He tipped his head back and sighed. “I guess those jeans are gonna be headed to the Salvation Army now. Damn. I was just getting them worn in.”
“You should keep them,” Casey said, shockingly. Dan thought maybe he felt it, but that Casey had let himself say it?.
“Keep them?” Hell yes, he would keep them. Best pair of jeans he ever ruined.
“Keep them,” Casey confirmed. “They looked good on you.”
Now Dan was trying not to smile. “You thought so?”
“I thought so.”
“Thought you weren’t looking at my ass.”
“You did.” Danny shifted around to look at him; he could feel the relief practically lifting him out of his sneakers. “What else have you been lying about, Casey?”
“Oh … just about everything. Most of my life. You?”
“I don’t think of it as ‘lying’,” Dan protested, but without any heat. There was heat enough between them. The way he wanted Casey was incendiary. “It’s just ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’." Casey gave a relieved sort of huff. "Are you asking?”
“Then I’ll ask.” He leaned forward; his lips just brushed Casey’s. “Do you want me?”
Casey leaned in and cupped the side of Dan's face, and Dan couldn't help pressing into the welcomed touch. As intimate as Casey's hand had felt on the nape of his neck, or his arm around his waist, this was more so, because Dan knew what it meant. “I want you, I’ve always wanted you. I want -- what?”
If they took things any farther, Dan couldn't promise he'd behave with any sort of office decorum. There were too many damn window-walls. He looked down at his watch, an excellent excuse. “Not to destroy the moment or anything, but what I don’t want is to be killed by Dana. We have to get back.” He touched Casey’s hand. “Later?”
“Later,” Casey said, a little dazed.
Later took far too long to arrive for Dan's liking. They did a show, he supposed, he could hardly remember a minute of it. He guessed it went all right. Neither Isaac nor Dana had called him out for anything, and Natalie hadn't swatted him. Finally, he and Casey made it back to his apartment.
"You, my friend, have been teasing me," Casey admonished. "And you're going to have to pay."
"Pay?" Dan didn't protest the accusation. It was true, after all. "What must I do?"
"All this time, the bobbing and weaving. Rebecca. The porn star. You've been very naughty."
"Right, Danny. Like I said, bobbing and weaving. Distracting me from the obvious, that you were just waiting for me to get my head out of my ass."
"You don't know the half of it." Dan laughed at how perfectly Casey had got it. But then, Casey always did understand him, when it got right down to it. Dan hoped they would get right down to it. "So, this punishment. You going to spank me?"
"Is that something you think you'd like?" Casey sounded a little dismayed.
"No, Casey. I just want you. Nothing you can't handle. What do you want?"
"Put them on again."
"What?" Dan knew what Casey meant, but wanted him to say it."
"Why?" Perhaps a more pertinent question would be 'how'. Still, he did as he was asked, pulling them on again in the bathroom where he'd left them hours earlier.
"You can't bob and weave in them," Casey said when Dan came out again. "You can't hide anything, either."
"I can hardly move in them, Casey."
"That'll work. Now come here." Casey motioned for Dan to stand in front of him.
"You're very, very weird."
"Yet you want me anyway. And I want you." Casey pushed Dan against the wall, and leaned into him. He took his time kissing Dan. No awkwardness at all, which shouldn't have surprised Dan, because they were always good together. Dan wasn't surprised when Casey started unbuttoning the jeans, but he was surprised when he pulled them only partway down -- just enough to keep him from moving -- and sank to his knees.
"Casey, are you sure? There may not be any weaving, but there's gonna be some serious bobbing pretty soon, right?" Dan fervently hoped so. "Or are you just teasing?"
"No more teasing, Danny. I've been dying to do this all damn day." Casey looked up at him, open and wanting and even before Dan felt Casey's mouth on his erection, he was overcome. Casey was breathtaking like this.
"Because of the jeans?" Dan gasped out.
Casey pulled up a moment, but put a hand around Dan's cock. "Because of what's in the jeans. And the shirt, the Reeboks. All of it. Because of you, Danny. Always because of you."