indyhat (indyhat) wrote,
indyhat
indyhat

In the margins

Fandom: Studio 60
Characters: Danny, Jordan, Matt, Simon
Rating: PG-13
Word count: a smidge over 1000
Spoilers: Up to 1.11 (The Christmas Show)
A/N: These are just a couple of 'extra scenes' from The Christmas Show. My first attempt at any S60 writing, so I'm just colouring bits in until I get the hang of the characters.

Danny was on the phone with Jordan, the receiver held in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

"So I heard you guys lost power on the set today."

Man, word got around fast. He wondered if she was hooked up this tightly with the producers of all her shows. "Not just the set, the entire — the whole of Studio 60." Two hours, all told, with Cal freaking the staff out pretty much the entire time.

"Isn't that dangerous?"

Was she— "Are you eating?"

"Yeah, I'm eating. I'm hungry, okay? Listen, aren't you supposed to have emergency practice drills or something?"

"We have drills," he said quickly.

She might have sounded impressed. "You have drills?"

"We could have drills. So, uh, why'd you call me?"

Half a breath in the receiver that might have been a laugh. "You called me, remember?"

"Yeah." He mustered his thoughts. "I, uh, I heard Jack took a beating from the FCC, over the live broadcast thing."

"So you're calling me?"

"Are you sure you didn't call me? 'Cause—"

"Danny—"

"Okay," he said, putting his feet up on the desk.

"So how'd you find out about Jack and the FCC?"

"I play racquetball with a guy who knows a guy." Which was sort of mostly the truth, pretty much.

"How do you know he didn't give you that information just so he could sleep with you?" She had this whole butter-wouldn't-melt thing going on, but you didn't get to sit in Jordan's chair without having more than just charm.

Not that Danny found her charming.

"I see what you did there," he told her, leaning back in the chair. "That's funny."

"Well, I'm a funny lady," she said, between mouthfuls.

"No you're not," he said, smiling

"You really don't have drills?" she asked him.

"We're ... looking into it," Danny said, and hung up. He took his feet off the desk and sat up. "We need an emergency drill plan," he said, to no-one in particular.

Matt stepped into the office. "Who were you talking to?"

"Nobody."

"Okay."

Danny looked up at him from behind the desk. "What do you need?"

Matt spread his hands in a bold, all-encompassing gesture. "I need the whole of Studio 60 ablaze with the spirit of Christmas."

Danny smiled indulgently. "Well, hold on there, Mr Pillow Pyro ... "

Matt picked a glass paperweight off Danny's desk, tossing it from hand to hand. "We've gotta stop having these blackouts. Cal's making everybody crazy."

"Yeah, I already told him." Danny looked at Matt over the tops of his glasses. "But, you know, a real man wouldn't be afraid of the dark."

Matt grinned at him. "Yeah, you know, a real man would SAY IT."

"Shut up," Danny said, trying not to look uncomfortable.

Matt's mind was still on the show. "We need something spectacular ..."

Danny leaned back in his chair. "How about Jack Rudolf's face when the FCC fines him millions of dollars?"

Matt scratched his neck. "And that'd be a sight to see, but I need something that isn't going to frighten our studio audience."

"We could, uh, put it on tape for next Halloween," Danny suggested.

Matt stared at him for a moment. "What is it you do around here, exactly?"

"I run your show, little boy," Danny told him, with what he felt was the proper amount of condescension.

Matt shook his head, putting the paperweight back down on the desk. "Do you actually have any qualifications at all?"

"Get out of my office," said Danny, and Matt smirked at him, but left.


*


It was entirely possible that Simon had been waiting for him out there the whole time.

"Mary did not ride into Bethlehem on a donkey," Simon said, without preamble, as they walked towards Matt's office.

"You bet your ass she did," Matt said.

Simon ignored the pun. "No, she didn't. Who rides a donkey when they're nine months pregnant?"

Matt raised an eyebrow. "You're saying Mary rode into Bethlehem on the bus?"

"I'm saying — look, just read it yourself." Simon held up a hand, forestalling argument. "The Huffington Post did this whole thing—"

Matt stopped. "When did the Internet become the definitive text on bah-humbuggery?"

A brief pause, then Simon said "Okay, please tell me we're not going to be doing that on the show."

Matt smirked. "You don't think it'd help us in the ratings?"

"Sure, if by ratings you mean Triple-X."

Matt sighed. "Why isn't anyone full of the spirit of Christmas?"

"Because it's eighty-five degrees outside," Simon told him, with the air of someone who'd had this conversation one too many times.

"It's nearly a hundred degrees in Australia right now," Matt persisted. "People are headed for the beach in droves, full of the spirit of Christmas."

"It's the middle of the night in Australia right now," Simon pointed out.

They had reached Matt's office. Matt went in, but not before gesturing towards Simon's feet. "Hey, Ebenezer — your shoelaces are undone."

"You know, it's almost hard to believe that you get paid to be funny," Simon threw over his shoulder as he disappeared back down the corridor.

Which was, when Matt thought about it, kind of a weird way to make a living. "Yes it is. And yet, here I am." Alone in the office, talking to himself. Again. "Suzanne!"

She appeared in the doorway. "Yes."

"Did Cal get the coconuts?"

She nodded. "He did. They're downstairs."

"We're going to have lots of snow," he told her.

"Okay."

"And can you — can somebody fix the air conditioning? It's pretty hot in here."

She held her notepad in front of her like a shield. "They're looking into it. Cal says a fuse blew when the power went out."

Matt ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not saying I don't like the idea of a roaring fire, roasting chestnuts, maybe a little eggnog — it's just that we don't usually allow those things in the sauna until after the grown-ups have gone to bed."

"I understand." She gave him a little half-smile. "You want me to get you a desk fan?"

"Yes. Yes, please. It's Christmas. We should all be just a little bit ... colder."

"I could throw ice-water over you," Suzanne suggested.

"Go away now?"

"I'm going, I'm going," she said, and left.
Tags: danny, fic, jordan, matt, simon, studio 60
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