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Title:Oversight
Author:
aprilmay430
Rating:PG-13 (language)
Category:Gen
Summary: Casey forgets to thank Dan, and Dan won't let him forget it. Pre-series
"I don't think you get the point yet." Dan said.
With a sigh, Casey said, "Oh, I think I do."
"So I'm going to try to explain it to you one more time. And slowly this time so you'll understand."
"Please don't."
It was about 11:00 on a Saturday night in May, and they were in Dan's Jeep, Casey driving because Dan was in no condition to, going down a dark, narrow two-lane highway that ran between Dallas and the outlying town where Dan's rented house was. They were dressed in identical black tuxedos because they had just spent the evening at the awards ceremony of the Texas Association of Broadcasters (better known locally as the Tabby Awards). This should have been a time of celebration because they had just won an award at that ceremony for Best Sports Feature Story for a report they had worked on about drug abuse by high school athletes. But, first, Lisa had taken off for home right after their award was announced, claiming that she had a "headache," then Dan had headed directly to the bar as soon as it reopened, becoming immediately drunk and, as usual when he was in that condition, he began alternating between sullen silences and uncontrolled ranting.
It's bad enough that I have to go completely out of my way and drive this thing, Casey thought, struggling with the manual transmission, without having to listen to him as well.
"Why can't you ever get a normal car?" he complained, reviving an old argument.
"Why can't you learn to drive stick?" Dan retorted. Then, continuing his tirade as if it hadn't been interrupted, he said, "So we're sitting at our table together and the two alleged "celebrities" - the blonde bimbo weather girl from Austin and the conservative Nazi talk show host - come up to announce the winner in our category, and they read off our names, and we walk up to the stage. You're a little ahead of me, like you usually are, and you get there first and shake hands with the Nazi, and the bimbo hands you the award and gives you a little kiss on the cheek because, you know, you're so damn cute she can't help herself. And then she steps back, and you move up to the mike to give your acceptance speech and..." He paused there for no evident reason other than needing to take a breath. "You started to thank people, and you thanked Dana, the cameraman, the sound man, the editing crew, all the people you've ever interviewed, your mom, dad, your journalism professors in college, your guidance counselor in high school, and maybe even your kindergarten teacher. I lost track by then. But the one person you did not thank was me. You. Did. Not. Thank. Me."
"I didn't thank Lisa either," Casey pointed out.
"Well, that's her problem," Dan said dismissingly and continued, "You know, I really should have been the one who got to speak in the first place. Since I was the one who came up with the story..."
"Which you gave to me because you said you were too busy to work on it yourself."
"And I came up with a list of people to interview and a long list of questions to ask them."
"Most of which I didn't use. Okay, I used some of your questions. But I made all of the phone calls, did all the interviews, supervised the editing..." Then, with a burst of impatient anger, Casey added, "In fact, you should consider yourself damn lucky your name was on the award at all."
"You know what?" Dan said, in an oddly matter-of-fact tone. "Right now, I feel like taking this fucking award and throwing it out the window."
"You wouldn't." Just in case he was serious, though, Casey reached over with his right hand to try to grab the award away from Dan, who kept it just far enough away from him that he couldn't get it.
"Yes, I think I will," Dan continued in that same maddeningly calm voice. "In fact, if I don't get some kind of decent apology from you, I think I'll throw it out right now."
His patience now completely gone, Casey snapped, "Dan, will you stop acting like a goddamn baby and..."
"Nope. Didn't sound like an apology to me." Suddenly Dan rolled down the window, unbuckled his seat belt, and, leaning out, announced, "Say good-bye to Tabby," as he threw the statue as far as he could over the roof so that it landed with a loud thudding sound on the other side of the road.
"Shit! Danny, why did you do that? Fuck!" Casey abruptly stopped the car, made a sudden, and quite possibly illegal, U-turn, and headed back to where the award had fallen. The road itself was poorly lit with only a few scattered streetlights, but his headlights were able to pick up the glint of metal in front of him. He pulled over to the side of the road, got out of the jeep, and had started walking out into the road when he felt himself being grabbed back. Just as he was about to ask Dan what the hell he was doing now, he felt a sudden rush of air, heard a loud honking, and looked up to see a pickup truck, which he hadn't seen approaching, rushing by just inches from him - one that could have very well hit him if he hadn't been stopped. Then he looked over at Dan - he couldn't see him very well in the dark, but he could tell that the angry look on his face had turned to that of concern.
"Case?" Dan said in a much quieter voice.
Casey said, "If you hadn't pulled me away when you did...I could have..."
"Well...you didn't. Come on, let's get back in the Jeep." Putting a supportive arm around Casey, he walked him over to the Jeep and helped him sit back down in the driver's seat. Then he walked over to where the award was and picked it up, noting it had been only slightly dented. When he got back to the Jeep, he handed it to Casey, walked around to the other side, got in, and sat down. They then just sat silently side-by-side for a while in the dark, each of them needing to get over the shock of what had just happened.
"You're right," Casey said. "I should have mentioned you. And I don't know why I didn't. The thing is...I didn't think we were going to win. So I didn't write anything down, which I should have, and when we got called up there, I got so damn flustered that I didn't know what I was going to say. In fact, I was nervous that I completely blanked out on everything between our names being called and getting back to our table, so I wouldn't even have known what I said if you hadn't kept telling me. And I know that's not a good excuse, but still..."
After barely acknowledging that, Dan blurted out, suddenly appearing close to tears, "I hate it here. It's okay for you, you have Lisa and Charlie, but I'm alone in this state that's filled with Republicans and gun nuts and murdering cheerleader moms and people who are polite to my face but, I'm pretty sure, are probably calling me "Jew-Boy" behind my back. And armadillos..."
With a laugh, Casey asked, "Dude, what's wrong with armadillos?"
"I don't know," Dan said, "They're...they're...just this strange, freaky animal, you know? Like armored rats."
Casey laughed again, not just because of what Dan said but because of how much younger he seemed at that moment. And then he remembered that Dan really was young - only 25 - and also remembered what it had been like for him when he was that age and living somewhere completely different from the place he had grown up in. But at least he had had his wife and son with him, while Danny was on his own. It occurred to him, with more than a little guilt, that he had been so caught up in the demands of his job and family that he hadn't even noticed how unhappy his best friend had become, and how the hell had he let that happen?
Dan continued, "...and sometimes the only thing that's kept me from looking for a job somewhere else was the thought that you wanted to work with me, that what I did was important to you. But if it isn't..."
"It is." With that, Dan turned his face to Casey, looking startled.
"Honestly, Dan, I don't know how I could have gotten through this last year and a half without you. All the stories you helped me with, all the times you did my work for me when I came in sick with some bug I picked up from Charlie..." After pausing to regain his composure, Casey continued, "You're very important to me, Danny. And I'm sorry if I ever let you think you weren't."
After that, they sat back and looked at each other, both now feeling a little awkward and embarrassed. Finally, Dan said, "Let's get out of here."
"Good idea," Casey said with relief, and after refastening his seat belt, turned the ignition back on.
Once the car was back on the road, Dan said, "Hey, Case? When we get to my place, do you want to hang around for a while and have a beer? We haven't really had a chance to celebrate this award yet."
Casey thought about it for a while. After what he had just been though, he really just felt like going home and going straight to bed, but he had the feeling Lisa would still be awake when he got there and he'd have to make yet another apology. "Sure, why not?" he said.
With what Casey was sure was one of his trademark smug grins, even though he couldn't see it in the dark, Dan said, "I want to let you know that, just to punish you for overlooking me that way, I plan to keep this award with me overnight."
"Fine."
"I may even sleep with it under my pillow."
Casey looked at him and smiled. "Whatever you want, Danny."
Author:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Rating:PG-13 (language)
Category:Gen
Summary: Casey forgets to thank Dan, and Dan won't let him forget it. Pre-series
"I don't think you get the point yet." Dan said.
With a sigh, Casey said, "Oh, I think I do."
"So I'm going to try to explain it to you one more time. And slowly this time so you'll understand."
"Please don't."
It was about 11:00 on a Saturday night in May, and they were in Dan's Jeep, Casey driving because Dan was in no condition to, going down a dark, narrow two-lane highway that ran between Dallas and the outlying town where Dan's rented house was. They were dressed in identical black tuxedos because they had just spent the evening at the awards ceremony of the Texas Association of Broadcasters (better known locally as the Tabby Awards). This should have been a time of celebration because they had just won an award at that ceremony for Best Sports Feature Story for a report they had worked on about drug abuse by high school athletes. But, first, Lisa had taken off for home right after their award was announced, claiming that she had a "headache," then Dan had headed directly to the bar as soon as it reopened, becoming immediately drunk and, as usual when he was in that condition, he began alternating between sullen silences and uncontrolled ranting.
It's bad enough that I have to go completely out of my way and drive this thing, Casey thought, struggling with the manual transmission, without having to listen to him as well.
"Why can't you ever get a normal car?" he complained, reviving an old argument.
"Why can't you learn to drive stick?" Dan retorted. Then, continuing his tirade as if it hadn't been interrupted, he said, "So we're sitting at our table together and the two alleged "celebrities" - the blonde bimbo weather girl from Austin and the conservative Nazi talk show host - come up to announce the winner in our category, and they read off our names, and we walk up to the stage. You're a little ahead of me, like you usually are, and you get there first and shake hands with the Nazi, and the bimbo hands you the award and gives you a little kiss on the cheek because, you know, you're so damn cute she can't help herself. And then she steps back, and you move up to the mike to give your acceptance speech and..." He paused there for no evident reason other than needing to take a breath. "You started to thank people, and you thanked Dana, the cameraman, the sound man, the editing crew, all the people you've ever interviewed, your mom, dad, your journalism professors in college, your guidance counselor in high school, and maybe even your kindergarten teacher. I lost track by then. But the one person you did not thank was me. You. Did. Not. Thank. Me."
"I didn't thank Lisa either," Casey pointed out.
"Well, that's her problem," Dan said dismissingly and continued, "You know, I really should have been the one who got to speak in the first place. Since I was the one who came up with the story..."
"Which you gave to me because you said you were too busy to work on it yourself."
"And I came up with a list of people to interview and a long list of questions to ask them."
"Most of which I didn't use. Okay, I used some of your questions. But I made all of the phone calls, did all the interviews, supervised the editing..." Then, with a burst of impatient anger, Casey added, "In fact, you should consider yourself damn lucky your name was on the award at all."
"You know what?" Dan said, in an oddly matter-of-fact tone. "Right now, I feel like taking this fucking award and throwing it out the window."
"You wouldn't." Just in case he was serious, though, Casey reached over with his right hand to try to grab the award away from Dan, who kept it just far enough away from him that he couldn't get it.
"Yes, I think I will," Dan continued in that same maddeningly calm voice. "In fact, if I don't get some kind of decent apology from you, I think I'll throw it out right now."
His patience now completely gone, Casey snapped, "Dan, will you stop acting like a goddamn baby and..."
"Nope. Didn't sound like an apology to me." Suddenly Dan rolled down the window, unbuckled his seat belt, and, leaning out, announced, "Say good-bye to Tabby," as he threw the statue as far as he could over the roof so that it landed with a loud thudding sound on the other side of the road.
"Shit! Danny, why did you do that? Fuck!" Casey abruptly stopped the car, made a sudden, and quite possibly illegal, U-turn, and headed back to where the award had fallen. The road itself was poorly lit with only a few scattered streetlights, but his headlights were able to pick up the glint of metal in front of him. He pulled over to the side of the road, got out of the jeep, and had started walking out into the road when he felt himself being grabbed back. Just as he was about to ask Dan what the hell he was doing now, he felt a sudden rush of air, heard a loud honking, and looked up to see a pickup truck, which he hadn't seen approaching, rushing by just inches from him - one that could have very well hit him if he hadn't been stopped. Then he looked over at Dan - he couldn't see him very well in the dark, but he could tell that the angry look on his face had turned to that of concern.
"Case?" Dan said in a much quieter voice.
Casey said, "If you hadn't pulled me away when you did...I could have..."
"Well...you didn't. Come on, let's get back in the Jeep." Putting a supportive arm around Casey, he walked him over to the Jeep and helped him sit back down in the driver's seat. Then he walked over to where the award was and picked it up, noting it had been only slightly dented. When he got back to the Jeep, he handed it to Casey, walked around to the other side, got in, and sat down. They then just sat silently side-by-side for a while in the dark, each of them needing to get over the shock of what had just happened.
"You're right," Casey said. "I should have mentioned you. And I don't know why I didn't. The thing is...I didn't think we were going to win. So I didn't write anything down, which I should have, and when we got called up there, I got so damn flustered that I didn't know what I was going to say. In fact, I was nervous that I completely blanked out on everything between our names being called and getting back to our table, so I wouldn't even have known what I said if you hadn't kept telling me. And I know that's not a good excuse, but still..."
After barely acknowledging that, Dan blurted out, suddenly appearing close to tears, "I hate it here. It's okay for you, you have Lisa and Charlie, but I'm alone in this state that's filled with Republicans and gun nuts and murdering cheerleader moms and people who are polite to my face but, I'm pretty sure, are probably calling me "Jew-Boy" behind my back. And armadillos..."
With a laugh, Casey asked, "Dude, what's wrong with armadillos?"
"I don't know," Dan said, "They're...they're...just this strange, freaky animal, you know? Like armored rats."
Casey laughed again, not just because of what Dan said but because of how much younger he seemed at that moment. And then he remembered that Dan really was young - only 25 - and also remembered what it had been like for him when he was that age and living somewhere completely different from the place he had grown up in. But at least he had had his wife and son with him, while Danny was on his own. It occurred to him, with more than a little guilt, that he had been so caught up in the demands of his job and family that he hadn't even noticed how unhappy his best friend had become, and how the hell had he let that happen?
Dan continued, "...and sometimes the only thing that's kept me from looking for a job somewhere else was the thought that you wanted to work with me, that what I did was important to you. But if it isn't..."
"It is." With that, Dan turned his face to Casey, looking startled.
"Honestly, Dan, I don't know how I could have gotten through this last year and a half without you. All the stories you helped me with, all the times you did my work for me when I came in sick with some bug I picked up from Charlie..." After pausing to regain his composure, Casey continued, "You're very important to me, Danny. And I'm sorry if I ever let you think you weren't."
After that, they sat back and looked at each other, both now feeling a little awkward and embarrassed. Finally, Dan said, "Let's get out of here."
"Good idea," Casey said with relief, and after refastening his seat belt, turned the ignition back on.
Once the car was back on the road, Dan said, "Hey, Case? When we get to my place, do you want to hang around for a while and have a beer? We haven't really had a chance to celebrate this award yet."
Casey thought about it for a while. After what he had just been though, he really just felt like going home and going straight to bed, but he had the feeling Lisa would still be awake when he got there and he'd have to make yet another apology. "Sure, why not?" he said.
With what Casey was sure was one of his trademark smug grins, even though he couldn't see it in the dark, Dan said, "I want to let you know that, just to punish you for overlooking me that way, I plan to keep this award with me overnight."
"Fine."
"I may even sleep with it under my pillow."
Casey looked at him and smiled. "Whatever you want, Danny."
no subject
Date: 2005-10-12 09:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 04:35 pm (UTC)By the way, I just friended you - I figured it was about time. :-)
no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 04:52 pm (UTC)