Title: A Tale Of Love And Darkness: Anger Management
Summary: Jeremy and Dana: bonding over darts and disappointing family members
Notes: written for![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
roga for the ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif)
purimgifts ficathon
Anger Management
"Jeremy, if you haven't finished that piece in ten minutes, I'm going to shove a pencil up your-"
"Okay, okay!" Jeremy Goodwin threw up is hands in mock surrender, cowering under the glare of his boss. "I said I was sorry!"
"Yes, you did, and yet, the segment still isn't done, and it's boring, and-"
"Hey!" Natalie interrupted. "Dana-"
"Oh shut up, you're just defending him 'cause you're sleeping with him."
"Damn straight," Natalie shot back, sounding hurt. "Come on, sweetie, I think Dana here needs some quiet time." She waltzed out of the editing room, not realizing Jeremy was still sitting at the editing machine. "Jeremy?"
Jeremy shook his head at her. Natalie shrugged and walked away with a sigh. What with her brother's steroid scandal on top of growing anxiety over the fate of her show, Dana had been in a foul mood for days, and she was done dealing with that. Still, she couldn't help feeling grateful for Jeremy's willingness to take over.
"I'm sorry." Back in the editing room, Dana's voice had shrunken from outrage to defeat.
"Don't apologize," Jeremy smiled. "I get it. You're stressed about-"
"Yeah," Dana cut him off, rubbing her temples.
Jeremy understood the interruption, but pressed on: "For what it's worth? You might want to find different things to do with your anger than yelling at us."
"I know," Dana sighed. "You got any ideas?"
Jeremy shrugged. "Not really."
"Helpful, wonder boy."
"You're supposed to be nice to me."
"I'm over that.”
Summary: Jeremy and Dana: bonding over darts and disappointing family members
Notes: written for
roga for the purimgifts ficathonAnger Management
"Jeremy, if you haven't finished that piece in ten minutes, I'm going to shove a pencil up your-"
"Okay, okay!" Jeremy Goodwin threw up is hands in mock surrender, cowering under the glare of his boss. "I said I was sorry!"
"Yes, you did, and yet, the segment still isn't done, and it's boring, and-"
"Hey!" Natalie interrupted. "Dana-"
"Oh shut up, you're just defending him 'cause you're sleeping with him."
"Damn straight," Natalie shot back, sounding hurt. "Come on, sweetie, I think Dana here needs some quiet time." She waltzed out of the editing room, not realizing Jeremy was still sitting at the editing machine. "Jeremy?"
Jeremy shook his head at her. Natalie shrugged and walked away with a sigh. What with her brother's steroid scandal on top of growing anxiety over the fate of her show, Dana had been in a foul mood for days, and she was done dealing with that. Still, she couldn't help feeling grateful for Jeremy's willingness to take over.
"I'm sorry." Back in the editing room, Dana's voice had shrunken from outrage to defeat.
"Don't apologize," Jeremy smiled. "I get it. You're stressed about-"
"Yeah," Dana cut him off, rubbing her temples.
Jeremy understood the interruption, but pressed on: "For what it's worth? You might want to find different things to do with your anger than yelling at us."
"I know," Dana sighed. "You got any ideas?"
Jeremy shrugged. "Not really."
"Helpful, wonder boy."
"You're supposed to be nice to me."
"I'm over that.”
---
Pssssssssht! With a satisfying sound, a dart whizzed through the air of Dana Whitaker's office and landed square in the middle of a dartboard on her door decorated liberally with pictures of the corporate leadership of CSC. Luther Sachs' face was already peppered with the tiny holes the darts made, and now JJ had a bright-red arrow sticking in his eyeball. With grim pleasure, Dana took aim again, and had just let go of the little arrow when her door opened.
"Careful!" Dana squealed, throwing her hands over her face.
"What the?" Jeremy had thrown himself onto the floor at her warning and now got to his knees to examine, with interest, the arrow now stuck inside the wall other side of the corridor.
"I'm managing my anger," Dana explained, proudly. "Check it out!"
Jeremy scrambled to his feet, pulled the arrow out of the wall and walked over to study the personalized dartboard. "Nice," he laughed.
"I've been nicer, haven't I?" She asked, grinning widely.
Jeremy was still focusing on the dartboard. "I see Sam Donovan doesn't get that much hate," he remarked, conversationally. It was true: the black-and-white newspaper cutting of their ratings consultant only boasted one or two holes, neither of which where in the face. In contrast, Dana's recently convicted brother had been hit in the eye and nose multiple times already, and a picture of Dan and Casey was almost as heavily scarred as the one of J.J.
Dana blushed, heavily. "That's just my aim."
"It didn't seem so bad to me just then when you nearly killed me," Jeremy pointed out, smirking.
"Tell Natalie and I will kill you," Dana snapped, menacingly. "Go away."
"If you need a picture of me, I believe you'll find a nice one in my personnel file," Jeremy called, scuttling for cover as the door slammed shut behind him.
"The thing is," Jeremy mused, "you're not the first person this has happened to." They were sitting in a corner booth at their usual bar, watching Natalie downing shots with Dan at the bar. Dana drained her white wine, sighing. It had been another long day, punctured by yelling and culminating in a tense, boring show full of avoidable technical flaws. Jeremy did sympathize with her- though he probably would have a lot more if he hadn't once again been the target of most of the day's yelling.
"Working for the soulless head of an evil cooperation? No, I wouldn't think so," Dana sighed. "You gonna eat those peanuts?"
"No thanks," Jeremy shook his head. "I'm actually fasting."
"You're fasting?"
"It's Purim tomorrow," Jeremy shrugged. "My Dad always wanted us to fast the day before so we'd appreciate the candy the next day more. I haven't done it since I was twelve, but this year…" his voice trailed off.
"Have you talked to your Dad at all since…?"
"Not really."
"Call him," Dana implored. "My brother just got busted for steroid use and I'm still talking to him."
"Not quite the same thing though, is it?" Jeremy shrugged. "I just can't seem to get through a phone call with him without yelling."
At the sound of a knock on the doorframe, Jeremy looked up from his editing machine. "Do you think we can maybe get better footage of the Dodgers' spring training?"
"I can check," Dana nodded. "Anyway, I, uh, got you something." She held out what looked like a plastic supermarket basket.
"What?"
"Happy Purim," she shrugged. "Or do you say Mazl Tov?"
Jeremy stared. "Is that…"
"One of those basket things, yeah. I looked up Purim when I got home last night, and you were right, I'm not the first one to deal with an evil tyrant." She smiled at him unsurely. "I didn't have a nicer basket, sorry." She held it out. "I just… I realize I've been meaner to you than almost anyone else around here, and I really do feel bad."
"Thanks," Jeremy smiled, taking the basket from her in a daze. Peering inside the red basket lovingly decorated with what looked like a rapidly put-together paper chain, he found that the basket was almost empty. Apart from a package of nuts and some candybars that had clearly come from the snack machine in the hallway, he was surprised to find a makeshift dartboard and two of her darts inside. Glued to the dartboard were two pictures: one of herself, and a photocopy of the picture of his father he used to keep on his desk.
He looked up at her, blushing. Then he remembered the plethora of white dots on Kyle Whitacker's picture, and he knew that she understood.
"I find it helps," she said, quietly. "With the yelling. You can even throw them while you're on the phone with him."
Jeremy smiled. "Thank you."
"Careful!" Dana squealed, throwing her hands over her face.
"What the?" Jeremy had thrown himself onto the floor at her warning and now got to his knees to examine, with interest, the arrow now stuck inside the wall other side of the corridor.
"I'm managing my anger," Dana explained, proudly. "Check it out!"
Jeremy scrambled to his feet, pulled the arrow out of the wall and walked over to study the personalized dartboard. "Nice," he laughed.
"I've been nicer, haven't I?" She asked, grinning widely.
Jeremy was still focusing on the dartboard. "I see Sam Donovan doesn't get that much hate," he remarked, conversationally. It was true: the black-and-white newspaper cutting of their ratings consultant only boasted one or two holes, neither of which where in the face. In contrast, Dana's recently convicted brother had been hit in the eye and nose multiple times already, and a picture of Dan and Casey was almost as heavily scarred as the one of J.J.
Dana blushed, heavily. "That's just my aim."
"It didn't seem so bad to me just then when you nearly killed me," Jeremy pointed out, smirking.
"Tell Natalie and I will kill you," Dana snapped, menacingly. "Go away."
"If you need a picture of me, I believe you'll find a nice one in my personnel file," Jeremy called, scuttling for cover as the door slammed shut behind him.
---
"The thing is," Jeremy mused, "you're not the first person this has happened to." They were sitting in a corner booth at their usual bar, watching Natalie downing shots with Dan at the bar. Dana drained her white wine, sighing. It had been another long day, punctured by yelling and culminating in a tense, boring show full of avoidable technical flaws. Jeremy did sympathize with her- though he probably would have a lot more if he hadn't once again been the target of most of the day's yelling.
"Working for the soulless head of an evil cooperation? No, I wouldn't think so," Dana sighed. "You gonna eat those peanuts?"
"No thanks," Jeremy shook his head. "I'm actually fasting."
"You're fasting?"
"It's Purim tomorrow," Jeremy shrugged. "My Dad always wanted us to fast the day before so we'd appreciate the candy the next day more. I haven't done it since I was twelve, but this year…" his voice trailed off.
"Have you talked to your Dad at all since…?"
"Not really."
"Call him," Dana implored. "My brother just got busted for steroid use and I'm still talking to him."
"Not quite the same thing though, is it?" Jeremy shrugged. "I just can't seem to get through a phone call with him without yelling."
---
At the sound of a knock on the doorframe, Jeremy looked up from his editing machine. "Do you think we can maybe get better footage of the Dodgers' spring training?"
"I can check," Dana nodded. "Anyway, I, uh, got you something." She held out what looked like a plastic supermarket basket.
"What?"
"Happy Purim," she shrugged. "Or do you say Mazl Tov?"
Jeremy stared. "Is that…"
"One of those basket things, yeah. I looked up Purim when I got home last night, and you were right, I'm not the first one to deal with an evil tyrant." She smiled at him unsurely. "I didn't have a nicer basket, sorry." She held it out. "I just… I realize I've been meaner to you than almost anyone else around here, and I really do feel bad."
"Thanks," Jeremy smiled, taking the basket from her in a daze. Peering inside the red basket lovingly decorated with what looked like a rapidly put-together paper chain, he found that the basket was almost empty. Apart from a package of nuts and some candybars that had clearly come from the snack machine in the hallway, he was surprised to find a makeshift dartboard and two of her darts inside. Glued to the dartboard were two pictures: one of herself, and a photocopy of the picture of his father he used to keep on his desk.
He looked up at her, blushing. Then he remembered the plethora of white dots on Kyle Whitacker's picture, and he knew that she understood.
"I find it helps," she said, quietly. "With the yelling. You can even throw them while you're on the phone with him."
Jeremy smiled. "Thank you."
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