They Say What They Say

Title: Hangin' on the Telephone
Author: Laylee
Summary: "Don't beat yourself up for living your life, Casey. It's the only life you've got so you might as well enjoy it while it's there."
Pairing: None. Casey/Isaac friendship.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Sports Night and its characters in no way belong to me. I only wish that they did!
Note: Written for mardia for the Sports Night Holiday Challenge. Many thanks to catwalksalone for the lightening-quick beta.



Casey moves into his new apartment on Wednesday.

On Thursday he picks up the phone, dials Isaac's number, and when it's answered at the other end he says, without preamble, "I had to buy a new coat."

"And hello to you too, Casey," Isaac replies with a wry twist to his voice.

"Chicago is cold, Isaac," Casey says as he wanders over to the window of his Uptown apartment. Below him the streets of Chicago are slick with rain and the heavy gray clouds above them threaten even more. "It's cold and it's wet. And it's going to start snowing any day now so I need a new coat."

"And how many years did you live in New York, which, by the way, can also be cold and wet and occasionally has snow as well?"

"It's a different kind of cold there," Casey says lamely.

"You got everything unpacked yet?" Isaac asks.

"Getting there," Casey replies, staring balefully at the packing boxes littering the living room.

"Everything's still sitting in boxes in your living room, isn't it?"

"It's a work in progress! I've only been here a couple of weeks."

"You moved there six weeks ago, Casey."

"Like I said, a couple of weeks."

Isaac's wheezy laugh floats down the line.

"You been to see Mitch Roberts yet?" he asks suddenly.

"He called me," Casey admits.

"I know that, but have you been to see him?"

"We've talked on the phone, Isaac, I don't need to see him. I'll call him if I've got anything for him."

"Casey…"

"Isaac, just let me do this my way, okay? It's my show and if I think I need to bring someone in I will."

There's a pause at the other end of the line and for a moment Casey worries he's gone that step too far when Isaac finally says, "Well, I guess you're the boss."

"Yes, I am."

"It suits you."

"You think?"

"Yes, I do."


|||

On Friday Casey is half an hour late for work because he's yet to get the hang of Chicago traffic and the lure of coffee and Danish from the bakery across from his office building was too great.

He juggles keys, coffee, pastry, newspaper and his briefcase as he rides up to the 34th floor in the elevator and is greeted by the stern glare of his PA when the doors finally slide open.

"You're late," Angela admonishes him as he heads toward his office.

"I stopped for breakfast."

"You couldn't have eaten at home? Or here? This place is awash with food; I'm sure Craft Services could have conjured up a cheese sandwich and a cup of tea."

"I hate tea."

They reach his office and Casey tries to shift everything he's holding over to one hand so he can open the door.

"Need help, boss?" Angela finally asks after watching him squirm for a good five minutes. Natalie has nothing over Angela when is comes to doling out punishment, Casey decides.

"If you don't mind."

Angela finally opens the door for him and whips her PDA seemingly out of nowhere as he dumps everything but the coffee and Danish on the couch.

"Okay, you've got an eleven o'clock with the new sponsors and the production meeting's been put back until two-thirty so maintenance can do something with the lights in the conference room. Jerry called and said the new segment works, only not enough, and Jared wants to know why you're ignoring him, only I said you're not ignoring him you're just really, really busy and can't talk at the moment."

"Am I ignoring Jared?" Casey asks around a mouthful of Danish.

"You are, but you don't need to know why."

"Um, okay."

Five minutes later Angela is whisking him out the door to the first of the day's meetings. Before he knows it the day is pretty much over and Casey is back in his office, tying up a few loose ends before he heads home for the night.

"I'm still not sure about the show and tell audience participation thing," he says to Isaac over the speakerphone as he tries and fails to stuff his laptop into its schmancy bag with the tangle of Velcro straps that keep it from falling out.

"It does work," Isaac asserts.

"Just not enough," Casey adds. "I'm thinking of dropping it."

"No, give it a couple more weeks," Isaac says. "It's not a bad idea; it just needs a little refinement."

Casey finally wins the battle of the laptop bag and reaches for his coat. "Maybe it'd work better if I dropped it down to an occasional thing and not every week. It's gonna get hard to keep finding interesting people, anyway, and there's only so many times we can talk to that woman with all the cats."

"Yeah, that could work better. Keep it fresh and not let it wear out its welcome."

"That's what I'm hoping," Casey says. "Hey, did I tell you that Charlie's flying out to spend Thanksgiving with me?"

"I heard."

"Who told you?" Casey demands to know.

"Just a little bird," Isaac says evasively.

"I'll bet," Casey snorts.

|||

"Happy Thanksgiving!" Casey all but shouts the minute the phone is picked up.

"Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, Casey," Esther says, a smile in her voice.

"You having a good Thanksgiving, Esther?"

"I am having a very good Thanksgiving, Casey. Thank you for asking. It sounds like yours is just dandy."

Casey looks over to where Charlie is sacked out on the couch, stuffed full of turkey and pumpkin pie and an illicit beer or two, and smiles. "I have to say, it's not too bad at all. Might I speak to your husband?"

"You might, although I'm not so sure he's in any fit state to talk to civilized folk."

"Don't go telling him that!" Isaac grumbles in the background.

"Oh, just you hush now."

"Don't tell me to hush," Isaac mutters as he comes on the line.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Isaac," Casey says once Isaac's finished grumping.

"Casey! How're you doing, son?"

"I'm doing fine, Isaac. Sounds like you're doing just fine as well."

"Well, you know. It is the start of the holiday season."

"And a Chivas Regal on the rocks always helps things along, doesn't it?"

"It most certainly does," Isaac agrees. "Charlie make it to Chicago okay?"

"He made it just fine. He's flaked out on the couch at the moment, but I'm guessing he'll rouse himself in time for dinner."

"I'm never eating again!" Charlie's voice drifts from the couch.

"You say that now!" Casey shoots back and Isaac laughs.

"Lisa have much to say about him going to Chicago for the holidays?" Isaac asks.

"She gets him for both Christmas and New Years; the least she can do is let me have Thanksgiving."

"Speaking of Christmas, Esther and I were wondering what your plans are?"

"I'm working," Casey says quickly.

Isaac pauses for a moment. "You have to or you want to?"

"Isaac, please don't start."

"I'm not starting anything, but people have been asking."

"Asking what?"

"How you're going. Why you don't call your friends any more. Why you never come visit or choose to work on a day you really don't have to."

"We couldn't just talk about the game, could we?" Casey sighs.

"Casey…"

"It's hard, okay?" Casey says, feeling a tinge of emotion that he was hoping had faded away. "I wasn't exactly the most popular guy in the room when I left, Isaac. I'm not sure they're ready to talk to me yet."

"You did what you had to do, Casey."

"Yeah, I did. But they don't see that."

"They think you dumped them."

"I did dump them. Sort of."

"It was a great offer, Casey. Best offer you'd had in years. What else were you supposed to do?"

"Stick with the show I crafted for over a decade and that made me a household name?" Casey surmises.

"Or recognize that you'd gone as far as you could go with Sports Night and thus made the decision to move on to something that challenges you professionally and gives you the opportunity to continue to make great television."

"I hate when you're right," Casey grumbles.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Casey."

"You too, Isaac."

|||

"I'm not sure it can get any worse," Casey says right before yet another pass is fumbled and Tampa Bay once again takes control of the ball away from Atlanta.

"You want to try that one again?" Isaac asks.

"Mind if I don't?"

"Be my guest."

As they go into commercial, the score flashes up on his TV screen and Casey can hardly bear to look at how badly Atlanta are losing. It'd be embarrassing if it wasn't so tragic.

Casey shifts the phone from one ear to the other as he reaches for his beer. "They should just end it now and put us all out of our misery."

"You don't think we should wait to see if they have a ninth inning rally?" Isaac asks, only slightly sarcastic.

"I think the chances of anyone having a ninth inning rally in this game are exactly none and not at all."

"I think you're probably right."

"I know I am."

|||

It's slightly scary how quickly Casey grows used to Chicago. Change has never really been his friend, but before he knows it he has a new gym and a new coffee shop to get his morning cappuccino. He has a dry-cleaner, a favorite bar and a shoe repairer. He doesn't get lost driving to work any more and one day he surprises himself when he is able to give some tourists exact directions to Wrigley Field.

"Took me over a year to get used to New York," he says to Isaac, five days before Christmas. "And I'd only just gotten used to Dallas when we moved to New York."

"Is there a point to this?" Isaac asks after a significant pause.

"I'm just saying, I don’t adapt well to change and yet here I am, getting used to Chicago in record time and it's unsettling."

"It's unsettling?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

"You called me at eleven forty-five at night to tell me that you find living in Chicago unsettling?"

"Were you sleeping?"

"No, I wasn't."

"So I didn't wake you up?"

"Since I wasn't asleep, no, you didn't."

"Good, 'cos I was worried that I'd woken you up."

"You didn't wake me up, and are you going to tell me what's going on any time soon?"

"What makes you think something's going on?"

"What makes me think something's going on? Casey, you called me at eleven forty-five at night to tell me that you find living in Chicago unsettling."

"Ah."

"Need I elaborate?"

"No, I don't think so."

They both pause and Casey thinks he should just wish Isaac a good night and hang up because who needs a nervous wreck on the other end of the phone at eleven forty-five at night?

"I'm worried, Isaac," he finally says.

"Worried about what?"

"That I can't go back; that my bridges are burned away and that everyone hates me."

"No one hates you, Casey," Isaac says gently. "I'm not saying they're not still pissed with you, but they don't hate you."

"Every time I talk to Dana it's like she can't get off the phone soon enough. Natalie's stopped sending me all those stupid emails that just clog your inbox, the only photo I've seen of her and Jeremy's baby is the one Esther sent to me, and Danny…"

"You've spoken to Danny. I know you have."

"Yeah, we've spoken," Casey says, quietly. "We speak but we don't talk any more. I used to know everything that's going on with him. These days, we might as well exist in two different time lines."

"Do you want to go back?" Isaac asks.

"No!" Casey all but shouts. "I like my job. The show is doing well, it's good TV and I'm proud of what I'm doing. I just wish…"

"Casey," Isaac cuts in.

"Yeah?"

"I've had a lot of jobs over the years, Casey. Some better than others and one or two I would have done for free if given the choice. It's always hard to leave, but they understood your reason for needing to move on. If it wasn't you then maybe Dana or Danny would have taken the leap. My point is, don't beat yourself up for living your life, Casey. It's the only life you've got so you might as well enjoy it while it's there."

"So what you're saying is that I should stop feeling sorry for myself and just get on with things."

"That, and stop calling me at eleven forty-five at night and waking me up!"

|||

On Christmas Eve, Casey is throwing clothes into an overnight bag when Isaac finally answers his phone.

"Hey, Isaac."

"Casey! Merry Christmas, son."

"Merry Christmas to you, too," Casey replies as he fishes around in his sock drawer. "I have a question."

"Shoot."

"You think Esther would be mad if I suddenly turned up at your house for Christmas dinner?"

Isaac's laugh was loud and bright. "I don't imagine she would mind at all. There's always enough food to feed an army. Wouldn't hurt if there was one less drumstick for me to eat next week."

"Is Danny coming over?" Casey ventures hesitantly.

"I believe he is," Isaac replies nonchalantly. "I've also been informed that Dana and Sam might drop by."

"Okay then," Casey says decisively, tossing socks into his bag. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too, Isaac. Me too."


FIN


Just to let you know, Atlanta lost to Tampa Bay badly, the final score being 3 to 37.