Oh, The Places You'll Go


Notes: I woke up one morning with the first line in my head. This is what happened. Set some time during canon. No spoilers.

Sometimes Dan wakes up and wishes he was a woman.

It's not that he wants breasts or periods or the ability to do seventeen things at once, it's just that it would make things so much easier. He could put on clothes that emphasised his non-existent curves, colours that brought out his eyes, heels that sculpted his calves into things of beauty, the non-make up make up that women seemed to favour these days, giving his skin a healthy glow, making his lips shine. He could do all that and he could walk into the office and sit on the couch, elegantly draping one leg over the other and he could lean forward into Casey's words, giving him all his attention, drinking him in. And then he could reply, his hands fluttering, his eyes speaking, his voice low and husky. And it would work. It would work because if Dan was a woman Casey would lose the last reason he has for not making his move.

Casey would close in, would sit next to Dan and Dan would lay his hand along Casey's arm, stroking down it softly, flirting, green-lighting him with his eyes. And Casey would get it because Casey's no fool, despite appearances. His hand would go to Dan's cheek, tracing his jawline and tipping his chin tenderly upwards, bringing their lips close. And they would hover just an inch apart, breaths shallow, searching each other's faces for meaning, for confession. Dan would lift his hand to Casey's mouth, thumb mapping the contour of his lips and they would part, Casey's tongue flicking out to lick the soft fleshy pad. Then Dan would moan and close the distance between them, replacing his thumb with his mouth and they would finally, finally connect.

And Casey would be gentle, keeping the pressure light, his lips fitting between Dan's, undemanding, respectful. But Dan's mouth would open, and he would push himself against Casey feeling the hard muscles of his body pressing against his soft curves. Then it would be Casey's turn to moan and his hands would go up to tangle in Dan's long, dark hair and his tongue would stroke Dan's lips, Dan's mouth, Dan's tongue. And Dan would kiss back. Would kiss Casey with all the repressed years, with all the sadness and joy, with all the possibilities of the future. His body would sing, taut strings of a violin, silent harmonics filling the surrounding air. And when neither of them could breathe anymore they would break apart and there would be lust and love and unshed tears in his eyes and Casey would take him home.

Sometimes Dan wakes up and wishes he was a woman.

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