All characters belong to Aaron Sorkin and ABC. The title's from Ray Bradbury. Please send feedback.
All Summer In A Day
Violet
Because it was New York, and it was the end of July, the day was unrelentingly bright. Because it was a Saturday, in the middle of the summer, the whole city was fairly quiet. Because of the heat, and the humidity, they were pretty much alone in the corner of the field.
"Ultimate Frisbee," Casey said, and sent the plastic disc flying.
Dan caught it easily. "Absolutely not."
Casey squinted against the sun. "Will was trying to convince me. Requires physical prowess, he said."
"In no way, shape, or form is that a sport," Dan reiterated firmly.
"Thank you."
"I mean, absolutely not."
"That's what I'm saying."
He raised his arm to toss the Frisbee, and paused. "Although."
Casey rolled his eyes. "Although?"
"Although we both agree that mountain climbing is a sport."
"These kids don't climb mountains, Dan; they drive up there in Chevy Suburbans and Mazda..." He gestured vaguely. "It's not mountain climbing. Throw me the thing."
Dan did. "Fair point."
"Off-road racing?" Casey snatched the Frisbee out of the air.
"That's a sport." Dan dropped onto the ground.
"You think?"
"Racing of any kind. Jogging is a hobby, but racing is a sport. It's not just physical prowess. Competition is the key."
Casey walked over and sat down beside him. "Physical prowess plus competition. So then is sex a sport?"
"Sex," Dan said authoritatively, "is the devil."
"626."
Dan blinked at him. "You mean 666, right? The beast hasn't been dropping digits?"
"626 is the Mazda I was trying to think of before."
"Casey?" Dan leaned back on his elbows. "Are you clinically insane?"
"Nah, that's your bag."
"So what's with you today?"
Casey smiled up at the blue sky. "The weather."
They were breathing the smells of street-vendor pretzels and hot dogs, and car exhaust and fresh-cut grass. Underneath that, there were hints of late-blooming flowers and garbage and smoke. And if they inhaled deeply enough, they were just barely breathing each other.
* * *
On the other side of Central Park, a line was forming.
"Bronson Pinchot," Natalie said.
Jeremy looked askance at her. "Bronson Pinchot?"
"We're going to see Bronson Pinchot," she said dreamily. Jeremy reached for her hand, rubbing his thumb carefully over her palm. "What are you doing?"
"Checking for clamminess. It's a sign of heatstroke."
"I am not clammy." Natalie pulled her hand away. "And I don't have heatstroke. I'm of sound mind and body."
He shook his head. "Bronson Pinchot? The little weaselly guy who played the cousin from Mepos on 'Perfect Strangers'?"
She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "So many things wrong with that."
"And you're going to list them," he said resignedly.
"One: Bronson Pinchot is of no less than average height."
"You've measured?"
"I have faith. Two: Bronson Pinchot can in no way be considered weaselly."
"He's got beady little eyes."
"Your mama. Third, he's actually from California, and he studied Drama at Yale."
The line started moving. Jeremy shuffled a few steps forward. "Is that everything?"
"No." Natalie followed him. "Fourth, you actually remember the name of the island from the show. And that's just wrong."
"I remember things." Jeremy shrugged. "I don't overheat for B-list stars of the eighties."
"Do we really have to talk about your thing for Meredith Baxter?"
"Hey, Meredith Baxter's not a B-list star," he protested.
"You don't see her doing Shakespeare," she pointed out.
"For all you know, Bronson Pinchot's playing the stunt codpiece."
Natalie grinned as they approached the ticket booth. "You know what could happen tonight? I might swoon."
"And as I stagger to the ambulance with you unconscious in my arms," Jeremy said, "What am I supposed to tell the paramedics?"
"What do I care? I'll be unconscious."
The attendant looked at them. "May I help you?"
"Bronson Pinchot!"
Jeremy looked dolefully at the attendant. "She's swooning. Two, please."
* * *
"Dan--"
"Hear me out!"
"No."
"I'm saying it might make the world a better place, Case."
"Broadcasting greyhound races is not going to make the world a better place." Casey chucked the Frisbee up and caught it. "And don't ever do that again, the rhyming."
"These are beautiful and noble animals."
"I'm not disputing that."
Dan stood and paced a little, scuffing the toe of his sneaker along the grass. "They're beautiful and noble animals that are bred in scandalous conditions. That shouldn't happen. If more people could see them in motion, maybe there would be some activism. Maybe these creatures would receive better treatment."
"Maybe." Casey looked thoughtful. "Or maybe you've turned into Bob Barker."
"I'm serious."
"The price is wrong, buddy." He got up and lobbed the Frisbee in Dan's direction.
Dan caught it one-handed, and raised his other hand to shield his eyes from the sun. "Is there a game today?"
"D'Backs at Braves. Johnson's pitching."
"I meant here."
Casey shook his head. "Mets are at Milwaukee, Yanks are in Tampa Bay."
"That's ridiculous." Dan sighed. "It's a perfect day for a game."
"You want to go round up the neighborhood gang for some stickball?" Casey deadpanned.
Dan twirled the Frisbee around on two fingertips. "Why aren't you with Charlie today?"
"He went to Miami, with his mother and his grandmother."
"They could take him to Tampa Bay to see the Yankees."
"Tampa's like three hours away from Miami." Casey stretched. "Let's go find something to eat."
They started to cross the field. "It's also a perfect day for a greyhound race," Dan pointed out.
"Or I could just walk into traffic."
"Noble creatures."
"Let's go find food."
* * *
Jeremy emerged from a convenience store with a large red frozen drink. "Drink," he ordered, putting it in Natalie's hand.
"All thirty-two ounces?" she said, doubtfully.
"If that's what it takes to stave off heat prostration."
She raised the straw to her lips and took a small sip. "It's not terrible."
"Not terrible?" he repeated incredulously, as they ambled down the sidewalk. "Cherry Slurpees are fun. They're playful, they're sweet, they're tart -- they're the essence of summer."
"When you're twelve," Natalie agreed.
"Fine, then give it to me."
She held it out of his reach. "No."
"If you don't want it..."
"I want it!" Natalie drank some of the Slurpee defiantly. They stopped on the corner and waited for the light to change. "It's nice and cold. Thanks."
They crossed the street. "You know what else I bought?"
"Lottery tickets?"
"No."
"In Style Magazine?"
"No.... Why would I buy In Style?"
"Maybe you wanted to see what really goes on inside Tommy Lee's elaborately furnished new home."
"Why would anyone--"
She held a hand up. "What'd you buy?"
"A pack of cigarettes."
"A pack of cigarettes?"
"Yes." Jeremy pulled it out of his pocket and held it up.
Natalie stopped just outside the entrance to the subway. "You don't smoke."
"This is true."
"You do not smoke, Jeremy."
"Still true."
"Why did you buy cigarettes?"
Jeremy looked at the box. "I wanted to see if I could."
Natalie couldn't help smiling. "You really are a little boy sometimes."
"Thanks."
"It's kind of endearing," she assured him, touching his cheek lightly. She chuckled as she started down the stairs. "A Slurpee and a pack of cigarettes."
"I think I'd prefer to start calling them smokes," Jeremy said, going after her.
* * *
"One with sauerkraut," Dan said, "and for the lady..."
"Just a bag of chips."
The vendor looked at Casey. "You don't wanna hot dog?"
"I like them burnt," Casey explained.
"Blackened," Dan added.
"Unrecognizable."
"If you want Casey to eat a hot dog on Labor Day, you light the grill on the fourth of July."
"I get it." The vendor clicked his tongue impatiently as he worked. "One. Sauerkraut. Bag of chips."
Dan handed him some money and they walked away, wandering down a path. "This is what I love about New York."
Casey pulled the foil bag open. "Sauerkraut?"
"Sure, sauerkraut, junk food off the street, pizza by the slice. You couldn't get this stuff anywhere else. I wish I'd grown up in the city. Riding the subways, hanging out in the park."
"Playing stickball with the neighborhood gang."
"Yeah." Dan took a large bite of his hot dog and chewed it happily. "Although we have a pretty good neighborhood gang right now."
"We have the best gang there is," Casey said, crunching into a handful of chips.
"For starters, Isaac."
"Best in the world."
"Best in the galaxy, even. I'd be prepared to haul ass over to Andromeda and put him against whoever they've got."
"No contest." Casey ducked under a stray tree branch. "And we've got Jeremy on our side; that counts for a lot. And Chris, and Will, despite his questionable judgment."
"And the women."
"Ah, yes, the women."
Dan scrunched up his eyes as they stepped into the sunlight. "Those are some women."
"Some terrific women."
"They're wise. They're radiant. They're nurturing."
"They could kick both our asses from here to Hoboken."
"And that."
They were quiet for a while, munching their snacks. Casey dropped his trash into a convenient wastebasket. "And you're no slouch yourself."
"Yeah."
"You don't sound convinced."
Dan rocked back on his heels. "I'm not unconvinced."
"Do me a favor?"
"I'll try."
"Let's not pull the low self-esteem trip this afternoon."
"You think I--"
"Neither of us," Casey said flatly, and rested a hand on Dan's bare forearm. "We're too good and it's too good a day."
Dan looked from Casey's hand to Casey's eyes. "All right, it's a deal."
* * *
"Easily two hundred and twelve degrees down there," Jeremy said.
Natalie nodded fervently as she turned the key in her front door. "I hate the subway in the summer."
"I mean my plasma was boiling."
"And I hate this apartment in the summer."
He followed her inside. "I like your apartment."
"It's the size of a shoebox." She set her keys on the coffee table and crossed the room to open a window.
"It's not so bad."
"The location sucks."
"Natalie, this place is charming."
"Jeremy, it's hotter than hell in here." She darted into the kitchen. "I think it's even worse than the subway. Want a drink?"
"Sure." He pushed up his sleeves and sat at the counter. "It's a cozy little place."
Natalie placed two glasses on the counter. "Cozy's great in the middle of December. When it's hot and sticky, that's not exactly the aesthetic I'm looking for."
Jeremy watched her mix their drinks. "Someday I'm going to find out why Wild Turkey sours are the only drink you know how to make."
She pushed his glass across the table. "This isn't that day."
He drank some. "Industrial strength, even."
"I know it's a bit more extreme than a Slurpee." Natalie leaned forward, resting her elbows on the counter. "Also, we should pick up a bottle of wine for the play."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, because what's Shakespeare in the Park without moonlight and wine and a gentle breeze in your hair?"
"Just plain Shakespeare?" Jeremy guessed.
"Exactly! Being outdoors sets the whole tone."
"I could bring my smokes." He took the pack out of his pocket again and tapped it idly against the table.
"You bring your 'smokes' and I'm leaving you," she teased.
"For Bronson Pinchot?"
"He's just waiting to sweep me off my feet." She sipped her sour.
"You could have my air-conditioner," he said unexpectedly.
Natalie stared at him and set her glass down. "What?"
"My apartment gets a better cross-breeze than yours. Even on a day like this, it's not bad if I open the windows. And I can just walk around in there with no shirt on if it's too much, so--"
"Aww." She pressed her fingers to her mouth. "That is so... aww."
Jeremy smiled softly. "Or I could keep my air-conditioner and you could walk around in here with no shirt on."
She slid his drink out of the way and leaned across the counter. "I think we could work something out," she said, and kissed him.
* * *
They had discarded their shirts, lying on the side of a hill. Dan watched the sky. "Gonna get dark soon."
Casey folded his hands on top of his stomach. "Not too soon. It's early yet."
"Gonna get dark eventually."
"Well, assuming the earth hasn't stopped revolving."
"You should never assume anything."
Casey yawned. "I like it out here."
Dan frowned, scratching his arm. "That's because all the mosquitoes have been biting me."
"You like it out here, too."
"Not the part where the insects feast on my blood." He laced his fingers in the grass. "But yeah, I like it. I am fond of the great outdoors."
"Yeah."
"Maybe next time I take a vacation, I'll go hiking upstate."
Casey laughed. "Yeah?"
"You could come with me. We could buy a cabin in the woods. No, the hell with that, we don't have to buy a cabin."
"What, you think we could build one?"
"Well, we couldn't. But two men could."
"Is hiking a sport?" Casey wondered.
"No," Dan decided. "How is hiking competitive?"
"It's one of the great conflicts of humanity. Man against man, man against himself, man against nature."
Dan scoffed. "What is this, English lit?"
"I confess. I went to a class or two in college."
"You're screwy that way."
"So I've been told."
"Man against himself, huh?"
Casey closed his eyes. "So they say."
Dan twiddled a blade of grass between the tips of his fingers. "Interesting."
"How's that?"
"I don't know." Dan took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Are you sure Yankees against Red Sox wasn't on that list?"
"Must've been a professorial oversight."
"Case?"
"Yeah."
"Nothing. It's been a pretty nice day."
"Yeah." Casey sat up and grabbed the Frisbee. "Hot town, summer in the city."
Dan got to his feet and took a few paces backwards. "How's the back of your neck feeling there?"
Casey stood. "Take a wild guess."
He slapped a mosquito on his knee. "Could these things leave me alone for like two seconds?"
"No," Casey said. "Man against nature."
Dan chuckled and held his arms out. "Throw me the thing."
And Casey sent the Frisbee skimming across the distance between them.
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