SquidgeWorld Archive

Disclaimer: These characters belong to people other than myself. No copyright infringement is intended.
Other Notes: I wrote this as a pinch-hit story for Lise in the 2006 Yuletide challenge. Lise's requested characters were Cal Shanley, Danny Tripp, Jordan McDeere, and Matt Albie. She expressed love for canon and Cal, and the desire for an ensemble piece "that feels like a little scene from the show," so that was my aim. There are nods to the Danny/Jordan, Matt/Harriet, and Danny/Matt relationships (but no kissing, let alone more than that, 'onscreen'). I gave names to some characters that have only been mentioned in canon and created a few characters of my own, whose names I think Aaron Sorkin might appreciate. I maligned demented-Santa in word and deed. And if that doesn't tell you that this story tails the episode "The Christmas Show" (and, accordingly, includes spoilers for said episode), I'm doing so now. Much credit for positive aspects of the finished story goes to its three superb betas (in alphabetical order), Dine, Hilary, and Signe. Any foolishness is mine. Oh, and try my purely theoretical coconoggin at your own risk. I love feedback.

Tucking in his T-shirt and straightening his hat, Cal surveys himself in the mirror in one of Studio 60's general dressing rooms. The suit isn't a perfect fit, but then most things aren't.

He blames that on his parents -- not because their genetics made him predisposed to what some people laughingly call "big bones," but because their hippie attitudes made him grow up wanting to rebel, in his own low-key way. So, in a town full of skinny people obsessed with appearances, Cal lets himself be, well, other. He hopes that he's setting an example for Abigail and Sally.

Thinking of his daughters reminds him what he wants to do while he's in this getup. He ducks into the hallway and grabs the first staffer he sees. "Hey!"

"Yeah?" The guy (whose name might be Alberto, if Cal remembers correctly from the one brief encounter they've had since the guy started as an intern a few days ago) glances down to where Cal has a hold on his arm.

Cal lets him go. "Sorry. I see your clipboard, so I know you must be busy, what with us being done with the show for the next three weeks. I just wanted to know if you happen to have a camera on you."

"A camera," maybe-Alberto repeats. He lifts his hands to show only the clipboard and starts backing down the hall. "I think we left all of those in the studio, dude."

"Right." Raising an eyebrow, Cal calls after him, "That was clever. Are you sure you wouldn't rather work on the writing staff? I bet I could arrange it."

"Dude, seriously?" Maybe-Alberto takes a step forward again.

"Dude, no." Cal turns and walks the other way. His boots squeak with every step. Luckily, the White Christmas soundtrack playing at the wrap party in the studio is loud enough to cover that. He manages to approach Matt and Danny unnoticed, and he grins when he steps into their view. "Check it out, guys. What do you think?"

From his sprawl on the couch, Matt smiles, his eyes shining a little, and he raises a pint glass of something sort of cream-colored in Cal's direction. "I approve, my good man."

Seated with his forearms on his knees beside Matt, Danny looks Cal up and down. "What in God's name possessed you to wear that thing?"

"I got into the spirit!" Spreading his arms, Cal pivots like a model, albeit a very bad one. He tips his hat with a flourish. The itchy fur-lined red coat hangs open even when he drops his hands again and tries to press it closed, and the matching tight pants are threatening to bisect him. He yanks the hem of his T-shirt back out of the waistband. "I borrowed this off demented-Santa. We had already paid for the weekend rental, and I figured Sal and Abby might get a kick out of seeing their old man as the jolly old elf."

"Ah." Danny nods. "I'm guessing they know that Saint Nick is a big, fat hoax?"

"Santa is real!" Matt shouts, sloshing what tiny amount is left of his drink around in the glass. "Cal, you got into the Nazi's pants?"

Cal replies to both questions, "Yeah. And I'm a little depressed that an anti-Semitic polar bear is fitter than I am."

"You could've just borrowed the costume Dylan wore for the show tonight, or even the one Harriet wore, if you were set on squeezing into something," Danny points out with a slight grin.

"Now you remind me, although I'm not sure how much better of an idea either of those would've been." Cal watches Matt toss back the rest of his glass and wander off with it. "What have you two been drinking?"

Danny holds out his half-drunk glass. "We're drinking the same thing practically everyone else here is, a coconoggin."

"I'm not touching that," Jordan says as she joins them. She takes an overly dramatic sip from her glass of water.

"Well, yeah." Danny leans against the back of the couch and looks vaguely abashed. "That would be why I said 'practically everyone.'"

Jordan rolls her eyes but looks amused.

"Anyway, a coconoggin?" Cal interjects, sniffing the beverage and returning it to Danny. "I'm guessing it involves our leftover coconut somehow."

Returning with a fresh glass of it, Matt says brightly, "Yep! There's coconut milk, and eggnog, and six different kinds of liquor, and something else I'm forgetting --"

"All of which will hit you upside the head in the morning," Jordan finishes. "Not that I'll experience that for myself."

Cal nods. "Ah, a coconoggin. Where can I find my own dose of this fine concoction?"

"They're serving 'em up over by the control room." Danny jumps to his feet. "I'll show you."

"Danny, if I can't find my way to the control room by now, you really should have fired me the night of Wes' meltdown," Cal says, walking a little faster.

Danny speeds up, too. "If you can't find your way to the control room, I want to give a raise to whoever the hell has been running the show in there the past couple weeks. You're doing great, not that I'm surprised. And not that that's why I'm walking with you."

"Okay," Cal says slowly. He slows down his walk as well. The suit is a lot heavier than it looked on demented-Santa, and he can feel sweat starting to bead in almost as many places as he has freckles. They've reached the temporary bar anyway. "So, why are you walking with me? Were you desperate for a return trip to coconoggin central?"

"Nah. I've still been nursing this first one; the eggnog kind of nauseates me. I just needed an excuse to get away from Jordan for a minute."

The bartender at the cash bar is a dark-haired kid whose nameplate reads, "Chuck," and whose sloppy grin suggests that he's been sampling some of his own wares. He handles Cal's money just fine, though, and does enough fancy tricks with bottles and swizzle sticks and shakers that Cal has even less idea than Matt has about the drink's final ingredients.

Throwing caution to the winds, Cal takes a gulp of his very own coconoggin, the first of three tucked into the curve of his arms. After he gets over the ten-second coughing fit, he swallows more and asks, "Matt got you to say it, huh?"

Danny stares at him, and then shrugs. "Yeah. Or, no, it was more like he got me to see it, and she got me to say it, but I'm not sure she really wanted to hear it."

"I see." Cal nods as sagely as possible with most of his first drink gone and a demented-Santa hat about to slide off his head. Scratch that: his first drink is all gone. He should make progress on the second.

"Are you going to need a cab?"

"It's quite possible I will, yes." He has to pick up the hat off the floor this time, but at least he doesn't spill his remaining coconoggin on the way. He hands all three glasses to Danny, who juggles them awkwardly with his own partial glass, while Cal peels off his jacket to drape it over his arm. "There's no work tomorrow, and the girls are camping with their mom this weekend, so I might indulge in a few of these."

Danny hangs his freed right arm around Cal's shoulders and steers him back toward the others. "That's all right. I'll get you the same ride as Matt."

Frosty glass feels good against Cal's sweaty forehead. He rolls one of the two empties back and forth there. "Why is he drinking so much anyway?"

They're back to the couch, and Matt answers for himself. "I'm drinking because of my newly discovered love for coconoggins. And also because I think Harry left with that jackass."

Putting his two empty glasses on the floor, Cal starts, "Which --"

"I think she left with that Luke-ass," Matt amends. "He was still hanging around the set after the show, when she vanished. With him."

"I'm pretty sure she didn't," Jordan says from her perch on the arm of the couch near Matt.

"I'm positive she didn't, and I've told Matt as much three times already." Danny points at the empty space at the other end of the couch. "Would you, please, sit on the actual couch?"

"This really isn't necessary." Still, Jordan stands up and moves to the seat.

Danny takes her place on the opposite arm. "You should conserve your energy. After all, you never know when you might need to make an egg-burying journey."

The joke doesn't make much sense to Cal, but he decides against asking for clarification on that. Instead, he takes a sip of his third coconoggin and asks, "How do you know Harriet isn't with Luke?"

"He doesn't," Matt says loudly.

"Yes, I do. I'm just not allowed to tell you why," Danny counters Matt, then stands up and urges Cal to step aside with him. "I can, however, tell you, assuming that you won't turn around and tell him."

Cal draws an imaginary zipper across his lips at first, but remembering something, he shakes his head and unzips it again. "Wait. I'll make a deal. You take my picture before I'm drunk enough that my daughters get scarred for life by the image, and I'll keep my mouth shut until I'm in that cab with Matt."

"That'll work," Danny replies.

"Do I get to know, too?" Jordan leans into their mini-huddle.

For a second, Danny studies her. His gaze softens, barely, but Cal has known him long enough to notice. Danny says, "You get to know, but your deal is, I tell you, and you sit back down while I put them in a cab and get you one of the toasted coconut sundaes that I saw Lucy carrying a few minutes ago."

Jordan folds her arms. "Done. But I have to say, it's a big sacrifice on my part."

Danny just raises his eyebrows at her.

"What about me?" Matt asks, propping his chin on Danny's shoulder from behind.

"Nope, sorry. I'm not dealing with you yet." Turning, Danny pushes Matt back to his seat before rejoining Cal and Jordan. "Anyway, Harriet took Matt's scraggly little Christmas tree from the studio back to his place after the show. She's going to set it up by his menorah with some lights and ornaments and stuff, but she wants it to be a surprise."

"That's sweet," Jordan says.

"Nice," Cal affirms.

"Yeah, except I couldn't think of a good explanation fast enough," Danny says quietly, then more loudly, "and Matt is probably going to be too smashed to appreciate her efforts."

Matt fumbles his way to a standing position and announces, "I am not smashed. I've only had four -- no, five coconoggins. I am, therefore, lightly toasted."

"Like our coconut." Cal grins. He goes for a sip of his third drink but recalls the photo plan just in time. He offers the drink to a passing extra, Mallory, who thanks him and is gone sooner than he can reply.

"Ezzaky. Ex-act-ly," Matt enunciates.

Danny's teeth flash under the studio lights. "Okay, buddy. You want to go find Harry, so you can prove to her just how coconutty you are?"

Matt nods vigorously. "I absolutely do. I can kiss her better."

"No doubt. Let's get you on your way, then." Over his shoulder to Cal, Danny says, "I'll tell the cabbie where to go, but if you're up for making sure Matt gets there, I'd appreciate it."

Waving his hands, Cal directs Danny's attention toward his now-disheveled costume. "Sure, but picture first, remember? Please?"

"Oh, yes." Danny turns left and right. "I'm not sure where we have --"

"I borrowed a digital camera from Sam in the props department," Jordan says, holding it up. "Give me your best pose, and I'll e-mail it to your NBS account tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow's Saturday," Danny says.

"I'll survive. Cal, what do you want for a backdrop?"

The mock To Catch a Predator set is still in place, and Cal works his way through the partying crowd toward it, with Jordan following, Danny after her, and Matt trailing behind him. Cal spends a couple of minutes trying out poses on either side of the fake chimney. Then an idea pops like a firework in the slight fogginess in his brain.

He fastens the red jacket closed as best as he can, then hikes it up in the rear, faces his audience, and plops down onto his butt in the set's fireplace. He kicks his feet up into the air as if he crash-landed coming down the chimney. They smile, and he smiles back, tipping his hat again as Jordan snaps the picture.

Danny gives Cal a hand back to his feet. Cal brushes off the seat of his pants and lets out a huff of breath. "I should probably give demented-Santa back his clothes before I go home."

"That might be a good idea," Jordan says.

Smirking, Danny looks at Cal. "Do we want to know what demented-Santa has been wearing this whole time?"

Cal shrugs. "Why not?"

He leads the way again, but Matt and Danny and Jordan are all walking -- or, in Matt's case, bobbing and weaving -- in step with him this time. Back in the dressing room where Cal changed earlier, he shows them the mannequin. It doesn't have any clothes, although it also isn't anatomically correct below the neck. Cal protected demented-Santa's modesty anyway.

Two sheets of paper from an easel pad in the writers' stock, taped together, hang in a long strip, which Cal has taped to demented-Santa's saluting hand. The paper says, "Happy Hanukkah to all, and to all a good Yule."

Cal's three companions laugh at that, and he feels certain that the warmth in his chest is not purely from the coconoggin. In a studio full of people like these, his other-ness kind of makes him the same, and he is very much okay with that.