thwarted1066@yahoo.com
URL: http://geocities.com/thwarted1066/index.html
FANDOM: Sports Night
CATEGORY: Dana/Natalie
RATING: PG
DISCLAIMER: Sorkin & Buena Vista. That is all.
ARCHIVE: Knock yourself out.
SUMMARY: "I was just having a little trouble with an image of Casey
in glittery red fishnets."
(~(~)~)
Dana looks at New York and thinks it can't be real. She could put
her hand up to a taxi and watch it pass right through. She could
walk around the back of a building and see that it's just a set piece.
She looks at Natalie and feels the same way.
It's not that she doubts Natalie's corporeal reality. Natalie had
screamed across the office - while standing right next to Dana's ear -
too many times for that. What she doubts is this thing between
them. There was a moment tonight when the lighting in her office was
softer than she remembers, another when the sound in Studio A was
sharper, and buzzed more. She looked at Natalie in those moments and
thought, **Any minute now someone's going to yell 'Cut!' and
Natalie's going to smile at me and say, 'You're a good actor,
Dana.'** They were moments wracked with self-doubt and general
silliness, and thinking about them now, they annoy her a great deal.
It's the week before Christmas, and she and Natalie are shopping.
They walk along the streets of Manhattan holding hands, and no one
notices. They wouldn't be news on the cover of *Sports Illustrated,*
not the way Dan and Casey would be. Dana can't decide whether to
grip Natalie's hand extra-hard so she can't drift away, or to hold it
lightly, so her own fingers don't go through.
"I'm thinking of getting Casey lederhosen for Christmas this year."
Dana sputters and looks over sharply. Natalie's peering at a pair of
pearl drop earrings, through the glass of a very respectable jeweler
known for its pendants and rings and general lack of Alpine leg
wear. "You're...*what*?"
Natalie turns her head and grins up at Dana, and Dana's breath
catches as the whole world seems suddenly to flare - unbearably,
impossibly bright - and then blink out around them. Right at this
moment, Natalie is real - and nothing else is. "Lederhosen."
"Gesundheit," Dana responds automatically. Natalie laughs, and the
rest of the world flickers back into focus.
"Remember the year I drew Casey in the Secret Santa exchange and got
him socks?"
"I remember hearing nothing from him but complaints about how you'd
gotten him socks until almost President's Day."
"Yeah." Natalie pulls her along to the next store's display,
mannequins so stylish Dana feels a little ashamed - and then a lot
ashamed, once she realizes she's envying a piece of plastic. "It's
kind of a running joke with us now. Every year for Christmas, I get
him hosiery of some sort."
Dana blinks at her. "Hosiery," she repeats.
"Yeah," Natalie says.
"Casey?"
Natalie nods. "Yup."
"Big, *tall,* very male anchor-of-'Sports Night' Casey?"
Natalie laughs. "You know any others?"
"And you say you get him *hosiery.*"
"Every year." Natalie moves on, and it takes her a few steps to
realize that Dana's no longer keeping up. She stops and tilts her
head the way she sometimes does when she's confused and doesn't have
a clipboard to hide behind. "Dana? You okay?"
Dana is being overcome by hysterical chuckles, and she waves her hand
to reassure Natalie, but she's obviously not doing such a good job,
because Natalie's right up next to her, and now that she stops to
think about it, she *is* having a little trouble breathing. She gets
her airways back under control. "It's okay," she insists. "I was
just having a little trouble with an image of Casey in red glittery
fishnets."
"Wow," Natalie says, looking more than a little distressed.
"You see my problem," Dana says.
"Sure." Natalie nods and falls silent.
"Hey." Dana touches her cheek. "You okay?"
Natalie shakes her head. "No, I'm fine. I could have gone my entire
life without hearing 'Casey' and 'fishnets' in the same sentence, but
other than that I'm fine." And she flashes Dana that same dazzling
smile, and Dana feels dizzy, like maybe she herself is the unreal
part of the equation.
She doesn't realize she's swaying until she feels Natalie's hand on
her arm. "Dana? Dana, what's wrong?"
She tries to answer, tries to regain her equilibrium, but the world
is shining and false, and she's not sure where she can safely put a
hand to stabilize herself. She grips Natalie - seems the safest
course of action - and everything swims back to solidity. Pulling
out a shaky smile, she assures Natalie, "I'm fine."
"You're fine?" Natalie peers up at her.
Dana nods. "Yes."
"You're absolutely certain you're fine."
"One hundred and ten percent," Dana says, nodding even more
fervently, though it makes her head feel a little woozy.
"Good. Great." Natlalie is nodding, too. "I don't believe you."
And why hadn't Dana seen that one coming about a mile and a half
away? Must be the ringing in her ears. She rolls her eyes. "I'm
*fine,* Natalie. Look." She lets go of Natalie's arm and walks a
slow, straight line down the sidewalk.
"All right, fine," Natalie says, slipping her hand back into
Dana's. "But we're going home now."
Dana glances at her watch. "We're going back to the studio now.
It's almost time for the eight o'clock run-down." She holds her
wrist out to Natalie. "See? It's almost eight o'clock. Which means
it's almost time for the eight o'clock run-down." She
frowns. "Unless we're not doing the eight o'clock run-down at eight
o'clock anymore?"
"Dana." Natalie holds her gaze. Her eyes are so bright they almost
hurt Dana to look at. "Stop saying 'eight o'clock.'"
"Why?" Dana's forehead creases. "It's almost--"
"I know," Natalie says quickly. "Stop anyway. We're going home."
"We're going back to the studio," Dana insists. "We have a show to
produce."
Natalie looks off into the night, and Dana holds her breath. She's
having the strangest moment of disorientation; she can't remember if
Natalie's really in love with her or if she just dreams that because
she's so in love with Natalie. When Natalie looks back at her, she
has that resolved look that has never once been overruled. Not by
Dana, anyway. She reminds herself to ask Jeremy if he was ever able
to - and then remembers that she and Jeremy have an unspoken
agreement never to discuss the fact that she is now dating Jeremy's
ex.
"We're going back to the studio," Natalie says as though it's what
she's been arguing all along. "But we're going home right after. No
drinks at Anthony's, no impromptu parties at Kim's place, no standing
in Isaac's office for an hour after the show arguing about whatever
it is you two argue about in there." She peers intently at Dana, as
though she can't quite see her. Dana wonders if she's fading out
again. "Got it?"
Dana nods and smiles and Natalie. "Got it." Natalie smiles back,
relieved, and steers them back towards CSC. They walk silently for
about a block, and then Dana asks, "Lederhosen?"
(~(~)~)
Dana looks around the table and smiles at her team. She loves them
all. None of them are real, but that doesn't matter; she loves them
anyway.
"Casey, you're going to be forty seconds long in the 20s." Natalie
has taken over the rundown. Dana's okay with that. "Take it from
the Spurs and the MLS trades."
"Done." Casey looks over at Dana. "Are you all right, Dana?"
She smiles at him. Maybe she's supposed to say something to him, but
she can't think what. She smiles wider and just shrugs.
"She's fine," Natalie says sharply.
"You sure?" Jeremy's looking at Dana now, too. "Because she really
doesn't look fine."
"She's fine."
"In fact," Dan adds, and Dana giggles as she realizes that they're
*all* staring at her now, "she looks a little bit stoned."
"She's *fine,* Danny, everybody," Natalie snaps. Dana laughs harder.
"What's funny?" Jeremy asks.
"You guys. Talking about me like I'm not sitting right here." She
takes off her glasses and gestures grandly with them.
"And you know what else is funny? How hard I'm going to kick your
asses for it in just a minute."
Dan and Casey exchange one of their we've-been-best-friends-since-
mall-bangs-were-cool looks and then turn back to her,
smirking. "You sure about that, Dana?" Dan asks.
"Because looking at you right now," Casey adds, "I don't think you'd
have the strength to kick an empty pop can across the room."
"Pop." Dana chuckles and points her glasses at him. "Casey still
says 'pop.'"
Shaking his head, Casey points at Natalie. "She is not fine."
"I'm noticing." Natalie's mouth is set in a grim line. "Hey, Dana,
why don't you come with me for a while? We'll get you all stretched
out on the couch in your office, and you can sleep until the show
starts."
Dana grabs Natalie's hand and tugs her down so her ear is right next
to Dana's mouth. "Are you going to stretch out with me?" she
whispers.
Casey and Dan and someone else - probably Dave - snigger. Natalie
blushes. "Anything you want, Dana," she says.
"Good." Dana puts her glasses on, pushes her chair back, and stands,
keeping her hands on the edge of the table. "Just as soon as I kick
Dan and Casey's asses."
"Dana--" Dan says, his eyes pleading with her. She always knew he
was afraid of her.
"You first, Rydell," she says, pulling her hands away from the table
and making playful sparring motions at him. "Come on, baby. You and
me. *Mano a* - whoops!" She's not sure where the floor came from
all of a sudden. But it's much more comfortable than she'd expected.
(~(~)~)
Dana's not at home. At least, she's almost certain she's not at
home. Because, sure, sometimes she does things with the decorating
scheme in her apartment and then forgets she's done it until she
walks into a chair or trips over an end table, but she's pretty sure
she would've remembered adding side rails to her bed.
She was having a bizarre dream, she remembers that. She and Natalie
were shopping - she and Natalie were *lovers* - and they were
shopping for...lederhosen? She laughs, and then groans, because
laughing hurts.
"Dana?" Natalie's hovering next to her bed.
She looks around. There's a curtain around the bed, and the sound of
a lot of bustle behind it. "What happened?"
"You passed out after the rundown." Natalie pulls a chair up next to
the bed and sits down beside Dana. "You had me really worried." She
reaches up and takes Dana's hand in both of her own, squeezing gently.
And Dana remembers - that *wasn't* a dream. She and Natalie *are*
together; they *were* shopping for lederhosen. Natalie is real; they
are real. Somewhere outside of this emergency room, buildings and
cabs and the rest of the "Sports Night" team might even be real.
Lifting her free hand to Natalie's face, she whispers, "I love you."
Natalie grins and leans into the touch. "I love you, too."
She looks around her curtained enclosure. "So, what's wrong with me?"
"You caught the bug that's going around." Natalie brushes Dana's
hair off her forehead. "The one Casey had last week."
Dana nods. That explains why everything's been so wavy, then. It's
almost a disappointment. She liked the idea that she was falling in
and out of dimensions. It made her feel almost magical. Letting her
head drop back onto the pillow, Dana yawns. She's exhausted. "I'll
kick his ass."
"He caught it from Charlie."
"Then I'll kick his ass, too. And Dan's."
Startled, Natalie laughs. "Why Dan's?"
Dana shrugs. "General principle. Guilt by association." Her eyes
are drifting shut.
"Get some sleep, Dana." Natalie leans over and kisses her cheek.
"You'll still be real when I wake up?" she murmurs.
"Yes, Dana," Natalie says, soothing her. "I'll be right here when
you wake up."
'That's not what I said,' Dana wants to protest, but she's done
fighting sleep. She slips away and dreams of a dream of Natalie, and
of New York.