TITLE: Desperate Times for Hardworking Masses
E-MAIL: eli @ popullus.net
ARCHIVE: Ask, please.
RATING: PG-13
POSTED: Dec. 27, 2004
AUTHOR NOTES: I started this story almost a year ago as a response to one of the leftover Yuletide 2003 requests (a.k.a., a New Year Resolution 2004 request; one of Nestra's). Unfortunately, I didn't get around to finishing it until after the challenge was over. Smooches to Celli for an early beta. Now has a sequel: Not Exactly After the War.
DISCLAIMER: Read




"Something has to be done."

"Yes, something does have to be done, and you, Dan, are the man to do it."

"What? Why me? Why am I the one who has to do what has to be done?"

"No, I think the question is more: Why are you trying to make this even weirder than it already is?"

"...Right."

"We'll all be thinking of you."

"Thanks, Casey. Because the thinking thing, that's really going to help. Hell. I feel like the first penguin."

"And the penguins got involved...how?"

"I'm feeling distinctly like I'm the one that gets pushed off the ice floe as the ritual sacrifice. Or to check for polar bears. It depends on who you're talking to."

"Your butt's cold from sitting on the floor, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh. It also hurts. Help me up, would you?"


~~~


"What's up?"

Sam didn't jolt; Dan wasn't really all that good at sneaking. "The numbers."

"Okay, well, that's..." A pause. "I wasn't asking about the numbers."

"I know." Sam continued to type. "But the numbers are what I'm being paid to deal with. I thought they would be a good subject."

Dan didn't laugh or sit down, so Sam tilted his head to look at him. Propped against the door frame, the other man watched him carefully as he said, "Sam. What's up?"

Sam sighed. Turning away from his laptop, he folded his hands and mimicked, "Dan. What are you asking?"

Dan crossed his arms. "Dana's on edge," he stated. "You know Dana's on edge. You know that you are what puts Dana on edge. Why are you aggravating the situation by ignoring her when she's done everything but give you a lap dance to signify that she's interested? You got a grudge?"

"Against Dana?"

"Nooo." That came out as a semi-moan, and Sam raised his eyebrows as Dan almost collapsed into the room. "Against us, the hardworking masses. Do I need to give you a detailed description of the hell we're living in right now? I think we're moving straight from circle two to circle seven, with a beheading due any day."

Sam looked at Dan. He looked at him for a good ten seconds before Dan rolled his eyes.

"Look, I enjoy pulling Dana's chain as much as the next person, but she's tense enough to launch. Would it be a hardship to ease off a bit?"

"What makes you think I've done anything?" Sam asked mildly.

Dan opened his eyes wide and pressed his hands flat together in front of his chest. "Please, don't make me beg you to give the taskmistress a break. It's mortifying."

Casey was right, Sam realized, Dan really had that puppy-dog look down. "Okay."

Dan held the pose, but from the frozen cast to his face, Sam suspected that was more because he'd forgotten than any deliberate choice. "Okay?"

"Yeah, fine."

Dan finally blinked. "Good." He frowned. "Okay, good." Dropping his hands, Dan turned on his heel and headed for the door.

Figuring the matter settled, Sam nudged his chair around to face the laptop again. He didn't stop typing when Dan's voice -- which, like his body, hadn't actually left -- intruded again.

"What exactly are you going to do?"

One of Sam's shoulders twitched in what might have turned into a shrug if he'd put some effort into it. "Something."

"Something?"

Sam's hands hovered above the keyboard for a moment. "I thought I'd try standing on my head. It'll be difficult, since I've never tried before and I could break my neck, but it's got the unusual going for it." He nodded, resumed typing. "It might be worth a shot."

Dan stomped over and fell into the chair on the other side of Sam's desk. "You're not taking this seriously, are you?" he pouted. "You just said 'okay' so I'd go away."

The wording in the last line he'd typed didn't adequately express his annoyance with Jim-Bob and his gang, Sam realized. He erased it and quickly keyed in a more condescending replacement -- "why don't we hold the meeting at 6 a.m., just to be sure that I don't get any sleep coming off the red-eye from L.A." -- and hit send. "Yep."

"Saaam..."

"Don't whine, Dan, it's childish."

"Um, Sam?" The casualness in Dan's voice was enough of a contrast that Sam glanced up. A rueful smile was kicking up the corner of Dan's mouth. "You've been here for almost two months now..." Dan let the observation fade out on a shrug.

"Good point." Sam thought for a second, then forced a dark frown and turned it on him. "Don't whine."

Dan immediately chuckled. "Ooh, very good. Very intimidating."

Silence, blessed silence, descended. After a full minute and a half of nothing but the tap-tapping of Sam's fingers on the keyboard and Dan's foot against the desk, Dan shoved to his feet.

"Okay, Donovan. You do your thing. Just remember, we...don't actually know where you live..." Dan's voice petered out as he hit another dead end. He turned away and Sam glanced up, smiling when he saw the exaggerated slump to other man's shoulders. He wiped the amusement away, he hoped, before Dan completed his spin back to face him.

"But we've got Kim!" Dan exclaimed, and it was a close call, but Sam didn't laugh. "I bet we could find out where you live, and make your life a life of pain and misery should you not follow through."

Sam shook his head. "You do that, Dan."

"I will do that," Dan declared, slapping the door frame to emphasize his determination on his way out.

Or, Sam mused, it could be just that he liked doing it.


~~~


"So'd you do it?"

"Yep. Did it. I'm not entirely positive that he wasn't laughing at me behind that moustache the whole time, but it's done."

"So?"

"'So' what?"

"So why is he still in his office alone, and Dana's in the meeting room with Natalie?"

"...He's shy?"

"Oy."

"Stop that."

"Oy vey?"

"Please, stop! You cannot pull that off on any level, even if you've been sneaking coaching from Jeremy."

"I can't?"

"No."


~~~


"Tell me," Dana demanded.

Dan looked around, probably for someone else to pawn the order off on, but Dana had very carefully cornered him in his office just as he sat down at his desk, knowing that Casey was going to be at least an hour late because he had to drop Charlie off for a school trip to the aquarium. She spared a brief moment to pray for the boy's safety among all those fish, and then glared at Dan and his too-innocent look.

"Okay, sure," Dan said, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head. "Tell you what?"

Dana brought her own hands up, almost able to taste the visceral pleasure she would get from shaking him until "casual" wasn't even a possibility. It was a sharp citrusy taste. Refreshing. Since getting it would necessitate lunging across the desk in a tight skirt, though, she settled for waving her hands in his face and letting out a frustrated "Nnng!"

Dan muffled a snort. "And was that supposed to be enlightening?" he asked.

"Dan," she screeched. It wasn't a voice she liked using -- even the word made her think of witches and harpies, which was never a good image -- but that made his eyes go wide now, didn't it? "Don't be an ass."

"Uh, Dana?" He tipped forward to a more stable position; which, she noted with interest, moved him back into conceivable reach. "If you could share some details, because I'd really rather not have to explain to Angela and Karen why I need the extra makeup to cover strangulation marks on my neck."

She planted her hands on the desk and gave him her most predatory smile, the one that was guaranteed to make even Natalie hide under a desk. "You'll just have to think up an excuse, won't you, because you know damn well what you said to who and the reason that I'm about to kill you."

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh."

He winced. "It wasn't all my idea."

"You think that's going to save your ass?"

"No." Biting his lip, he shot a somewhat panicked glance at the people intently not listening outside the door. "Not really."

"So you're not delusional, just suicidal," she said, nodding in approval.

"Look--"

"Danny, Danny, Danny. Dan. You told Sam to send me flowers."

Dan started to shake his head and she jabbed a finger at him with a, "Nngt!" When he froze and blinked, she went on, "He said as much in the card that came with the flowers that this impossibly callow messenger boy thrust into my hands not half an hour ago -- before running for the exit as fast as his skinny little chicken legs could carry him."

She ignored Dan's twitch and looked up toward the ceiling to recite (not that she had it memorized or anything): "'Dana, I hope you like these. Dan thought you might want to talk later.'"

She tilted her head back down so she could scowl properly. Dan was gaping at her. Strange noises were emerging from his mouth. None of them were even close to words and strangulation was looking more possible than ever.

She still couldn't believe it. Secrets were physically impossible in this office, sure, since they weren't so much whispered as shouted in a round of that stupid telephone game. Did kids still--? Oh, who cared? She had an office full of children, no matter what their ages. But she hadn't expected them to put up a neon sign above her head blinking, "Desperate Woman. Send Flowers To Get Laid," in garish colors. Just thinking about it again made her blush. What were the chances that Dan would mistake the red on her cheeks for righteous rage?

"Letmeexplain!"

She eyed him, considering, then nodded. That that was the reason she was here instead of simply sending a hit man, after all.

"We just wanted him to talk to you, straighten out, figure out, put out, whatever would stop you from stomping around and ripping people apart."

We? "WHAT?"

"No, wait!" he yelped as she started to shake. "That's not actually what I said to him!"

"It better not have been!"

"Look, I really just asked him to talk to you. He said he'd do 'something,' but he didn't say what." Dan offered an apologetic grimace. "I gather his something wasn't a good thing, huh?"

She huffed. "No."

"But you understand, right? I'm not the one who's going to get hurt now."

Dana didn't have to force an evil smile.


~~~


"Next time, Casey, you're the man."

"What? No, hold that thought. Why are you under the desk? Did you piss off the security guard again?"

"Why do you think? Next time, you're the man."


~~~


Sam had noticed the avoiding. It was hard not to; he never looked for open arms, but producers didn't normally attempt a one-woman, head-down 100-yard dash -- in heels and the other direction -- every time they saw him in the hall.

It was late, he was functioning on three hours of sleep, this was probably a mistake on par with his first proposal, but what the hell.

He took one step to the left and braced himself.

"Sam!" Dana yelped, her hands coming up in time to smack his chest pretty good given her momentum. Despite the bracing, they stumbled a bit.

Sam took a deep breath, heard someone with his voice say, "You're not wearing your perfume," and concentrated all his will on not rolling his eyes. Okay, maybe a mistake on par with going through with the marriage.

Dana blinked up at him. "What?"

Going with the riptide, Sam offered a small smile. "It's been a while since we've been this close."

"You've always sat at the other end other end of the table."

"Dana," Sam sighed.

She grimaced and stumbled back a step, looking frantically up and down the hall, and anywhere but into his eyes. But Sam knew that she knew that as soon as he'd found out the late show would be using the main studio, Casey had begged, pleaded, and eventually gone to his knees, to Natalie's great amusement. The end result: the only other people in sight were the first of the West Coast Update staff. Not a group that was going to help Dana out of a pinch.

Just as the frantic was about to move from her eyes to the rest of her, and send her off in whatever direction it was going to send her, Sam decided it was time to simply say: "We need to talk, Dana."

"No." She took another step back, tucked her hair more securely behind her ears. "No we don't. No talking. Walking." She turned and headed down the hall. "This way."

"Okay." He fell in beside her, then stopped when she halted and started waving her hands.

"No. No, no, no." She kept her eyes locked on the wall beyond him, frowning. "I'm going this way. You, you go that way."

This was ridiculous. "Did you have to practice, or have you always been this bad?"

Her mouth dropped open. Not the most attractive look, but at least she'd met his eyes, he figured. The next step clearly should be to--

Her eyes narrowed and Sam tilted his head, reconsidering. Past evidence indicated that that look was often closely followed by words and actions that he didn't particularly want to have to deflect.

So Sam gave Dana a bright grin -- which widened as her eyes went shocked and wide again -- and leaned in and kissed her.


~~~


"What're they doing?"

"Got me."

"What?"

"Look, I told you we'd need a bigger plant."

"We couldn't get a bigger plant, Danny, someone would notice."

"Like the mutant lady and her minions are not noticing the two guys crouched around the corner behind the teeny-tiny plant?"

"Er."

"Exactly. One of us is going to have to stop retying our shoe laces eventually, you know."

"Good thing we're not still in the age of Velcro... So. It's awfully quiet around that corner."

"As long as no one ends up dead, Natalie won't kill us for not mentioning that Sam was going to go for it tonight."

"Five minutes, then?"

"I'm thinking four."

##

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