They Say What They Say

Title: Evening the Keel
Author: Laylee
Synopsis: "I don't want any of this and I'm so fucking tired of having to think about it all the time." Post-ep for La Forza Del Destino.
Pairing: Dan/Casey
Rating: I'll say R to be on the safe side for some cussing, smooching and excessive schmoop.
Disclaimer: So not mine. Do you think *I* would have cancelled them?
Note: This was my first ever Sports Night story. I originally posted it to slashsn on Yahoo Groups back in 2003, but until now it's never made it to my journal. phoebesmum has been after me to post my pre-lj stories, so I said I would, but only if she betaed them for me, which she most graciously has.




He found Dan sitting at a bus stop a little way down the street, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his head bowed.

"You forgot your jacket," Casey said, flopping down on the bench beside him.

"Mmph."

"I don't think Jack's going to charge you for the glass," Casey continued, his tone deliberately light.

"Hmmm."

"Although I'm pretty sure Dana and the others think you've gone crazy again."

"Mmhmm."

Casey turned and reached out his hand, carefully resting it on Dan's back between his shoulder blades. "You okay?"

Dan shrugged but didn't look up. "I dunno. It's..."

"Yeah."

"I'm kinda..."

"Kinda what, Danny?"

"I...I wasn't...expecting..."

"No. I guessed that. You've got a right."

"Yeah." Dan finally looked up and Casey's eyes widened when he saw how pale he was. "I think I'm gonna..."

Dan leapt up from the bench and only just made it to a nearby alley before the sound of retching filled the night air.

Casey gave Dan a couple of minutes before he followed, waiting until the retching stopped and the only things he could hear were the familiar sounds of the city. He found Dan behind a dumpster, leaning against a wall with his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut.

"I bet that was fun," Casey deadpanned.

Dan pried one eye open. "Shut up," he groaned. Then he opened both eyes and said, "I hate this."

"Yeah," Casey said, taking Dan by the shoulders and pulling him away from the wall. "Sucks to be you, Danny."

"Big time," Dan muttered, leaning his head against Casey's shoulder.

Casey put his arms around him and pulled him into a loose embrace. "In fact, I would pretty much say it bites to be you right now.

Dan's hands came to rest around Casey's waist and he pressed into his partner a little more. "You're not helping," he said dejectedly, his voice muffled against Casey's shoulder.

"Never said I would," Casey responded placidly.

Hidden from view by the dumpster, they stood there for a moment, Dan leaning against Casey as his partner rubbed a slow, comforting circle on his back.

"You wanna go home?" Casey asked softly.

Dan nodded but didn't look up. "Mmhmm."

"My place?"

"Nah."

"Okay, yours?"

"Yeah."

"Feel like driving?"

He could feel Dan grimace through his jacket. "God, no."

"Well I'm certainly not up to it." Casey pushed Dan away from him and made him look up. "Can I trust you not to throw up on me in a cab?"

Dan's face scrunched up a little. "Dunno."

"Hmm..." Holding him at arms' length, Casey studied Dan for a moment. "Okay, I think I can take the risk."

"On your own head be it," Dan replied. "Where's my jacket?"

~*~*~

They found the jacket where they had left it, on the bench at the bus stop, and Dan shrugged it on as Casey hailed a cab and then practically threw Dan into the vehicle when one pulled over.

In the back of the cab, Dan sat hunched over, his chin resting in his hands and his eyes focused on the various globs of hardened gum stuck to the floor. Casey recognized it as his 'don't wanna talk about it' posture, but he figured it couldn't hurt to try to prod it out of him anyway.

"Dan."

"No."

"I think you need to talk about this."

"No."

"Okay. But..."

"Casey!"

"You dropped the glass."

"It slipped."

"At a pretty significant moment."

"The moment was not significant. There was no significant moment and I'd be much happier if you left it where it was."

"You threw up Danny. Don't tell me that was nothing."

"CASEY!"

"I'm just saying..."

"Casey, just leave it. Please." Dan finally looked up and the pain in his eyes was palpable. Dan flopped forward again, his hands covering his face.

Casey reached out to tentatively rub his back. "S'okay," he murmured, feeling bad for belabouring the point when Dan so obviously didn't want to talk. "Sorry I pushed."

Dan responded with a despondent shrug and said no more.

They travelled the rest of the way in silence, Dan with his face buried in his hands and Casey rubbing his back much the same way his Mom used to when he was ten and in bed with a cold.

As they moved through the darkened streets, Casey caught the cab driver gazing at them through the rear-view mirror. Realising he'd been caught staring, the man blinked a couple of times then turned his gaze back to the road, but Casey could practically hear the thoughts running through his mind.

Casey knew what it looked like - how it appeared to be - and normally Casey would go out of his way to avoid drawing attention to his and Dan's 'relationship'. However, tonight he was beyond caring what anyone thought. His only goal was to get Dan home and try to stop him from freaking too much.

Fifteen minutes later the cab drew to a halt in front of Dan's building. Dan was so floppy when Casey pulled him out of the cab, it was like manhandling a drunk. With his hand on Dan's shoulder, Casey led him past the doorman, through the lobby and toward the elevator. While they waited for it to arrive, Dan sagged bonelessly against Casey, like he'd lost all ability to keep himself up right.

"You all right there, Slugger?" Casey asked, putting an arm around him and patting him on the cheek.

"Don't call me Slugger," Dan mumbled irritably. He sagged against Casey a little more and clutched at his stomach. "Don't feel so good."

"Oh jeez..." Casey grabbed Dan by the shoulders. "Danny, look at me, okay? Just look at me." Dan looked at him with watery eyes. "This is not the place. Upstairs in your apartment, that is the place. The lobby of your apartment building is not the place. You understand me?"

Dan gave a wavery nod and swallowed a little, then closed his eyes and drew in a ragged breath. Casey gripped his shoulders a little tighter, just to remind him he was not alone, and sent up a silent prayer of relief when the elevator doors finally pinged open.

~*~*~

They barely made it through the front door before Dan bolted down the hall and into the bathroom. A few seconds later, the apartment echoed to the sound of Dan throwing up into the toilet.

Damping down the urge to follow, Casey passed through the living room into the kitchen. The room was dark, save for the faint lights of the city shining through the window. Casey shucked off his jacket and tossed it onto the table. He thought about rustling up something to eat, but he wasn't hungry and he had a feeling Dan wouldn't feel like eating either. Even so, he opened the refrigerator and bent over to survey the contents, or lack thereof, with a critical eye.

There was never very much in Dan's refrigerator. Both Dan and Casey spent half their lives in a TV studio where there was constant supply of food, so neither of them bothered to shop very often. That night it contained little more than a bottle of milk, some cheese and half a loaf of bread, an ancient take-out of uncertain origins, and a six-pack of beer with one missing. And an unopened bottle of ginger ale.

Dan always had ginger ale in his refrigerator. When Casey first met him he just assumed that Dan liked ginger ale, or he had a thing for scotch and dry. And until recently, it never occurred to him that there might be a deeper reason behind it.

Then Draft Day 2000 happened, and in the wake of their post-Seder reconciliation Dan finally confessed to his unsettling habit of throwing up whenever a social situation got too much for him.

After twelve years, it finally dawned on Casey. The ginger ale wasn't there because Dan liked to drink the stuff. In fact he hated it. It was there because, at times like this, it was about the only thing that helped settle his stomach.

After a couple of minutes Casey heard the bedroom door bang open, so he grabbed the ginger ale out of the refrigerator, snagged a glass from the dish drainer and carried them both into the bedroom.

Dan was sitting on his bed, looking pale and distracted and absently clutching one of his sneakers against his chest with his right hand, the other still on his foot. Casey didn't think he had ever seen a more forlorn sight as he poured a glass of ginger ale and offered it to him.

"Drink this," Casey said, taking the sneaker out of his hand and replacing it with the glass. "It'll make you feel better."

Dan wrinkled his nose at the glass, but gulped down the ginger ale without a word.

"Slowly," Casey admonished him. "I'm not cleaning up after you if it comes back the wrong way."

Dan shot him a look over the edge of the glass, but took to sipping, not gulping and pretty soon he'd drained the glass dry.

"Feel better?" Casey asked as Dan set the glass on the nightstand.

Dan shrugged and looked at the carpet. "Ask me in about half an hour, okay?"

"Whatever you want, Slugger."

Dan rolled his eyes. "Don't call me Slugger."

"Yeah, like that's gonna happen in a hurry. Are you going to sit like that all night?" Casey asked, slipping into take-charge mode and hoping his uncertainty didn't show through. Dan was so very still, it was starting to freak him out a little.

"Guess not," Dan replied softly.

With what looked like a great deal of effort, Dan reached down to remove his other sneaker, but only got as far as untying the laces when he seemed to change his mind and looked at Casey again.

"You ah...you gonna stay?" he asked, and Casey nearly winced at the timidity in his voice. He hadn't seen Dan look so beaten down since that hellish week following the last time Rebecca left.

Casey was beginning to hate Rebecca Wells. Hate her with a passion.

"Yeah, I'll stay," Casey said, making it sound like it was no big deal. Dan didn't need to think he was feeling sorry for him. "Might as well, now I'm here."

Dan nodded and a relieved look crossed his face. "Cool. Okay. Yeah, that's cool."

"You done with that?" Casey asked, picking up the glass.

"Pretty much," Dan replied, bending back down to remove his other sneaker.

Casey turned to go back to the kitchen.

"Do you think I should call her?" Dan asked suddenly, stopping Casey in his tracks.

Not answering immediately, Casey turned and gazed at his partner. Dan was sitting dejectedly on the bed, his hands gripping the hem of his sweater like he was about to pull it off then forgot how to do it. Casey let go a huge breath as he felt his heart contract and he rubbed his tired eyes.

It had been a shitty week. The sale of the station had thrown everything up in the air, putting all their futures in doubt and making them feel like they were in the middle of some kind of bizarre non-combatant war zone. There were hard decisions looming on the horizon. Decisions that would have far-reaching consequences. Where they may or may not be working in the next few months was only the barest tip of the iceberg. The last thing anyone needed was for Dan to start freaking out again. The last thing Dan needed was to start freaking out again. He had barely made it through the last freak-out unscathed. The next time, he might not be so lucky.

He wouldn't make it out unscathed if Rebecca came back into his life, of that Casey was certain.

Casey felt a strange metallic taste in his mouth. The bitter tang of disapproval, maybe? He wanted to shout, 'No, you shouldn't. She screwed you over last time and she'll do it again.' Instead, he swallowed his pride and said, "I don't know. It's up to you, Dan. Do you want to call her?"

Dan frowned and his face took on a slightly befuddled expression. "I dunno. Maybe."

"It's up to you, Dan," Casey repeated blandly. "She's taken the first step. The rest is all yours."

"Fuck," Dan moaned, flopping onto his back and covering his face with his hands. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

"You said it, pal," Casey muttered wryly as he left the room.

Casey returned to the kitchen, put the ginger ale back in the refrigerator and rinsed out the glass. Then, feeling a strange need to do something, he occupied the next few minutes by putting away the dishes he had helped Dan wash two nights ago and refilling the coffee maker with fresh grounds for the morning.

He wasn't quite sure why he had the sudden urge to be busy. Some vague idea of giving Dan space, he thought. Give him time to process the idea that the woman who had so effectively broken his heart he'd barely been able to look another woman in the eye was trying to worm her way back into his life.

Then it occurred to Casey that maybe it wasn't Dan who needed time to process, it was he. Because this was one development he hadn't counted on at all.

Rebecca had left - walked out of Dan's life and all the way to California with her dickhead husband. She chose her fate. She left the greatest guy in the world - a guy who would have walked barefoot across broken glass for her if she'd asked - for a moron with his head so far up his ass Casey would be surprised if he even knew what his wife looked like.

And just when Dan was getting his head back together, just when he was finally emerging from the black cloud of insecurity and despair that had blanketed him for the last few months, Rebecca had to go and make her grand re-entrance. With the biggest bunch of flowers Casey had seen outside of the Chelsea Flower Market.

Talk about loaded gestures. Had the woman not heard of picking up the phone and leaving a message? Even an email would have been better than such an in-your-face thing as flowers.

And, as much as he hated to admit it, there was another very selfish reason why Casey didn't want Rebecca back. He didn't want her back because he wasn't ready to share Dan, with her or anyone.

Casey liked that since their 'thing' - for want of a better word for it – had started getting bigger, Dan had stopped flirting with everything in a skirt that passed his way. He liked the little jolt of electricity that coursed through him whenever Dan touched him on the shoulder or bumped into him at work. He liked being the recipient of the smouldering look across the conference room table; the kind of look designed to stop him in his tracks and turn him into a stuttering idiot in the middle of a rundown meeting. He liked that it was Casey who took Danny home at night, and it was Casey who shared Danny's bed, and it was Casey who got to see the side of Dan that he kept hidden from everyone, even those closest to him.

He wasn't ready to give that up. Not just yet. Maybe not ever.

Slamming the jar of coffee back into the cupboard, Casey banged the door shut and swallowed an unexpected lump of fury lodged in his throat. He hated feeling so uncertain, so impotent. Sometimes it seemed like everything he thought he could count on was crashing down around him and all he could do was stand there and let it happen. It was a hideous, shitty feeling of insecurity and inadequacy and he felt like a complete fraud. Lately, about the only place where he felt that he had any control over his life was the time he spent with Dan. Even then he was terrified that their time was rapidly running out.

So instead of returning to the bedroom where he knew Dan needed him, he hid out in the kitchen, not really doing anything except killing time as he tried to get his emotions under control and process the situation, only to fail to process anything at all because there was simply too much to comprehend.

So he glared at the coffee machine like it was about to leap from the counter and bite him before he switched off the light and finally returned to the bedroom.

~*~*~

Dan had shucked his jeans and sweater and was stretched out on the bed in his boxers and T-shirt when Casey returned. He'd switched the TV on to an ancient Cosby Show rerun and lay watching it with his lips pursed thoughtfully and the remote clutched against his chest with both hands. The only source of light came from the TV, casting weird shadows into the corners of the room and giving everything a strange sense of unreality.

Casey liked the way the light flickered over Dan's sharp features, playing up the startling contrast between his dark hair and eyes and his winter-pale skin. Somehow, he managed to look both absurdly young and surprisingly mature all rolled up in one neat package, and Casey thought he'd never seen anything more captivating.

Rebecca Wells, you don't know what you're missing out on, he thought fiercely as he stepped through the door.

"I hope you brushed your teeth," Casey said, using what Dan called his 'dad' voice. "'Cause, you know, I've seen you throw up twice tonight and there's no way I'm kissing that mouth until I know you've brushed, rinsed and flossed."

When Dan didn't answer immediately, Casey reached out and grabbed his big toe, giving his foot a shake.

"Well?"

"Yes, Dad." Dan intoned flatly, pulling his foot away. Casey quirked an eyebrow at him but refrained from comment. Sarcasm was better than not talking, and Casey hated when Dan didn't talk. It was unnatural.

"So I can use the bathroom?" he asked, pulling off his sweater and tossing it onto the chair, followed by his shoes and jeans.

His eyes still focused on the TV, Dan gave the remote an indifferent wave. "Knock yourself out."

Casey eyed him cautiously, thought about it for a moment, then said, completely without meaning to - because they were the sort of things you say when your best friend is in pain and won't talk - "You going to be in a better mood when I get back? 'Cause it's not too late for me to go home, you know."

"I think my mood, for want of a better word, is pretty much set for the moment, thank you Casey. But I'll be sure to get back to you when I've got one more to your liking, if that's okay." Dan's voice was icy and tightly controlled, but Casey could see the muscle in his jaw tick with displeasure.

"Ah, jeez, I'm sorry, Dan," Casey said, overflowing with contrition as he plonked down on the bed beside him. "That was a stupid, thoughtless thing to say. I don't even where it came from, it just…popped out."

"It most certainly did 'pop out'," Dan answered dryly.

"And I wish to God it'd pop right back in." Casey sighed. "I'm sorry, Danny. I really am. I've no excuse, other than I'm tired and I just want this to be over."

"You're not the only one there, pal," Dan responded in a tight, even voice.

Dan pointed the remote at the TV and flipped the channel over to CSC where Peter and Paul were wrapping up West Coast Update. Casey watched him blink at the talking Ken-dolls, but he didn't say anything else. Feeling abashed and more than a little on the stupid side, Casey was about to reach for his jeans and pull them on again when he felt a warm hand land on his thigh.

"Go clean your teeth, Case," Dan murmured without looking at him, giving Casey's thigh a quick squeeze before taking his hand away.

Casey leaned in and kissed Dan on the forehead.

"It's been a hell of a night," he said, and stood up.

~*~*~

Closing the bathroom door with a gentle click, Casey leaned against it for a moment, sucking in deep breaths and focusing all his attention on not letting the thoughts twisting inside his brain drive him insane.

"Fuck, Casey, get a grip," he muttered, pushing away from the door.

Ignoring the way his mind was spinning, Casey reached into the cabinet for the wet pack he kept tucked away amongst Dan's bathroom detritus. Pulling it out, he unzipped it, but for some reason he paused before extracting his toothbrush and just stood there, examining its contents.

It contained the usual stuff that any guy would take with him if he were staying somewhere overnight. Along with the toothbrush, there was a razor and a packet of spare blades, shaving cream, deodorant, and a bar of soap. There was saline solution and a container for his contacts, some aspirin, a packet of Band-Aids and a roll of antacid tablets in case Dan ever took it into his head to make curry again. Just normal, regular stuff that you'd find in any bathroom cabinet.

Until now it had never occurred to Casey that keeping stuff like that at Dan's apartment was in any way weird. Nor did it occur to him that Dan keeping a similar pack at his place was also weird. Or the fact that they also had clothes, books, CDs and a whole bunch of other stuff at each other's apartment was even out of the ordinary. It was what they did. They shared things and kept stuff at each other's apartment. They had done since about the second year of their friendship when they both realised it wasn't going to be just one of those fly-by-night acquaintances. When they realised that this friendship they had going was the real thing and it would last, probably, forever.

So they had stuff at each other's apartments. And more than that, they shared a bed, even though they both still really liked women and, apart from each other, they weren't really interested in guys. They had this friendship that just kept growing and evolving, despite their absolute determination to tear it to shreds a few weeks ago. And there was the sleeping together thing, which was becoming more and not less frequent as they thought it would, once they got it out of their systems. In fact, it was getting to the point where they might as well just move in with each other because they were together twenty-four/seven anyway, no matter whose apartment they ended up in at night.

And there was something else as well. Something Casey didn't even want to ponder, because he hadn't thought there was the slightest chance of it ever happening again. But there it was and he had to think about it, and think hard. Think about the fact that, for the last several days since the Seder and in the wake of CSC going up for sale, he had the smallest nagging suspicion that he might actually be falling in love with Daniel Rydell.

"Don't wanna think about it," he muttered to himself as he finished cleaning his teeth and took out his contacts. He gasped slightly as everything shifted out of focus and his reflection became all fuzzy around the edges. Kind of fitting really, given how fuzzy his world was at the moment.

He didn't want to think that he could actually fall in love again. It was not on the cards. Not after Lisa and the entire Dana fiasco. It wasn't supposed to happen and, even if it did happen, it wasn't supposed to be another guy he fell for, and Dan was certainly not supposed to be that guy. But however stupid and impossible it seemed in theory, it was happening, and Casey felt entirely powerless to stop it.

Ridiculous corporate shenanigans. Idiot job in LA.

He couldn't leave Charlie. He just couldn't. There was no way he could live with a whole continent separating him from his son, any more than he justifiably pull him out of school and away from the friends and the life he had created in New York. After all the upheaval Charlie had gone through with the divorce, it just wouldn't be fair. Charlie deserved an even keel, more than anyone, and he deserved a dad who was going to be there for him.

It was with a growing sense of dread that Casey realised that Dan would have to do it without him. There was no other way. Dan would protest of course, and say that he couldn't, but Casey knew that he could. He was more than capable, despite the seething insecurity that had threatened to drown them both on Draft Day. Dan was so talented, so amazing - he'd do it and he'd be fucking brilliant. There was no question about it. No question at all.

What the question was - the big, fucking whopper of a question that plagued Casey's every waking thought and had him teetering on the edge in his dreams – was, could he do it without Dan? Somehow he'd have to. But he didn't want to. Not if he had any choice.

Dan. In love with Dan. Danny Rydell, the object of his affection. Never supposed to happen. Not in a million years.

And what if Dan didn't feel the same way? Having sex with someone didn't equal love. He of all people knew that.

Fucking rock. Fucking awful hard place.

Rebecca.

Why did she come back? As if things weren't bad enough, why did she have to choose now to come back? It would end badly. Casey had this feeling, and it wasn't some jealous 'keep your hands off my property' kind of feeling. Whether he was in love with Dan or not, he'd still have the feeling. Rebecca was going to screw Dan over again, and the only thing Casey could do was wait until it was time to pick up the pieces. Again. Because he wasn't supposed to be in love with Dan, and this was absolutely the wrong time to even think about telling him.

"I want my even keel," he demanded, scowling at himself in the mirror. "Give me back my even keel. I deserve it. Don't I?"

Everyone deserved an even keel, at least once in their life.

Not wanting to think about it any more, Casey finished washing and went back to the bedroom.

Where he found an empty bed and the TV buzzing softly in the corner. And no Dan.

A slightly irrational trickle of panic gripped his chest. "Danny?" he called, backtracking into the hall.

"In here," came a faint response from the kitchen.

Stepping into the kitchen, Casey found Dan standing at the sink, staring out the window. Casey's eyes immediately came to rest on the bottle of ginger ale standing on the counter.

"Oh jeez, Danny," he whispered, crossing the short distance from the door to come up behind Dan and slip his arms around his waist. Dan hesitated for just a second before he allowed Casey to draw him away from the sink and hold him close.

"S'all right," Dan murmured, his hands tightening over Casey's forearms. "Nothing happened. I just felt a little queasy, you know?"

"Yeah," Casey nodded and rested his chin on Dan's shoulder.

"But I didn't, so..."

"S'okay," Casey whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair. "It'll be better in the morning."

"You sure?"

All Casey could do was shrug and tighten his hold on Dan. "I dunno. I hope so. Couldn't get any worse, and it's gotta end sooner or later."

"God, I hope so."

Dan went still in Casey's arms and they stood like that for several minutes, silently holding on to each other until finally Dan broke the silence.

"It's fucked, you know?" he said in a low, bitter voice.

"What is?"

"This...everything. It's just fucked."

Dan pulled away from Casey's arms and turned to face him. His eyes were huge and shadowed with hurt and confusion, and desperation. Casey wanted to draw him back, wrap him in his arms and promise him that everything - no matter how shitty it seemed now – that everything was going to be okay.

"I hate this." Dan spat out vehemently. "I hate that we're going to Anthony's every night in some stupid, desperate attempt to bring ourselves luck when we all know it's got nothing to do with luck, because ultimately it'll just come down to money. It's money that put us there and it's money that'll take us away. We'll stay on air if they think we'll make money for them, and we'll go off air if they think we won't. Because they don't need us, Casey, not really. All they care about is the damn cable. And it doesn't matter that we're good at what we do or that there are people out there who appreciate us. They don't give a damn that you're on some stupid list, and that you've won awards and I've been nominated for awards. If we can't help them buy that new boat or pay for the ski trip to Aspen, we might as well throw in the towel now and go back to doing on-the-spot crap in some piss-ant station in Boston."

Dan paused briefly to suck in some air. Casey held out a hand to try and steady him, but only got as far as saying, "Danny I…" before Dan moved out of grasping distance and started on his tirade again.

"It's fucked, Casey, and I hate it. And I hate that it might split us up and I hate that some people think they can just come in and make up my mind for me. That they think they have some sort of ownership over me. Well fuck 'em, Casey. Fuck 'em all. I don't want any of this and I'm so fucking tired of having to think about it all the time. I just want...I just want..."

Dan finally stuttered to a halt, panting for breath and looking wild-eyed.

"What do you want Danny?" Casey asked, grabbing hold of Dan's shoulders to steady him; the burst of emotion had left him trembling and gasping for air.

"I want…"

"What? Dan, what? Tell me. How can I help if you won't tell me?"

Dan inhaled loudly and closed his eyes.

"What do you want Danny?" Casey asked again, his voice barely a whisper.

Dan sucked in another big breath and the trembling subsided a little. "I want my even keel," he said in a small, shaky voice. "Apart from you it's the only thing I've got going for me at the moment, and I deserve it. I fucking deserve it."

"Oh Christ, Danny." Casey smiled and gave Dan a little shake, squeezing his shoulders gently. It was too ironic for words.

"I'm tired Casey," Dan said again. "I'm so fucking tired. Of all of it."

"I'm tired too, Danny," Casey admitted, slipping his arms around Dan's shoulders and pulling him close. "Feel better now?"

Dan nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, for…"

Casey held him a little tighter and pressed a gentle kiss to his neck. "Any time."

"You think I went a little overboard there?"

"You always go overboard Dan. I'm used to it now."

"Only taken you twelve years."

"Give or take a decade."

They stood with their arms wrapped around each other, listening to the low hum of the refrigerator and feeling the beat of each other's hearts through the thin cotton of their T-shirts.

"So what are we gonna do now?" Dan asked after a little while, his breath warm against Casey's ear.

"I guess we just turn up and wait and see," Casey replied and pressed his face further into Dan's neck.

"Napoleon's Battle Plan, eh?" Dan sounded more than a little dubious.

Casey nodded. "Yeah, that's the plan."

"The plan sucks, Casey."

"I know, Danny. But it's the best we've got at the moment."

Dan pulled away from him a little and regarded him with serious eyes. "Why do we even need a plan Case? Can't we just go along without one for a while?"

"And think about it tomorrow?"

"Thinking about it tomorrow works for me."

"Isn't it kind of avoiding the subject though?"

Dan shrugged and let his hands drift down until they were resting on Casey's hips. "Abby keeps telling me I'm the king of denial. Might as well work with what you've got."

"You pay that woman how much?"

"Too much to be insulted on a regular basis, I suppose, but I didn't say I wasn't a masochist either, so I guess it evens out in the end."

Dan was so matter-of-fact, Casey couldn't help laughing.

"You are insane," Casey murmured and kissed him.

Dan tasted like toothpaste and mouthwash and the kiss was as warm and sweet as honey. He felt Dan's arms tighten around him, his hands wandering across his back and under his T-shirt to stroke the sensitive skin along his side. He moaned a little as he felt the heat gather in his loins. The bulge pressed against his thigh told him that Danny wasn't far behind, so he pulled Dan closer and let his mind drift away from anything that wasn't Dan Rydell as the kiss went on and on and on.

When they finally broke apart, they were both looking a little dazed.

Casey leaned in to rest his forehead against Dan's. "So I have this plan..." he started.

"Enough with the plans, you yutz," Dan admonished him gently, moving to kiss the spot below Casey's ear. "Your plans have a habit of sucking, Casey. Big time."

"No, you'll like this one," Casey insisted, moving out of kissing range. "This is the plan, and I guarantee you will like it. When this is all over, no matter what happens, we're going to take some time off. A week maybe. Hopefully more, but at least a week. We're going to go somewhere warm, near the ocean. Somewhere where they've never heard of CSC or Sports Night. We'll probably have to leave the country, but we need to do this Danny. We need it badly."

"And what are we going to do when we get to this hypothetical paradise?" Dan asked, clearly intrigued.

Casey smiled, glad that his plan was going down well. "What we're going to do is this: we're going to lie on the beach and work on our tans. We're going to go snorkelling and fishing and even play a little golf. And when we're not doing any of those things, we're going to spend an obscene amount of time in our hotel room doing the sort of things you can't talk about on national television. Now tell me my plan doesn't suck."

"Your plan doesn't suck, Casey," Dan admitted as a slow, bright smile lit up his face. It was good to see Dan smiling like that again. There hadn't been enough reasons to make him smile lately and Casey missed it more than he had realised.

"In fact, I would even go so far as to say," Dan continued, "that this plan might almost work."

Casey ran his fingers through Dan's short hair, already looking forward to the auburn highlights it would take on after a couple of days in the sun. "It's a good plan, isn't it?"

"It has its merits," Dan admitted, and then kissed him so hard his toes curled.

"Thank you for evening my keel, Casey," Dan whispered a few moments later.

"That's what I'm here for." Casey tightened his hold on Dan. "We'll get through this, Danny. It's fucked and it blows, but we'll get through it. We have to. There's no other way."

"And for now?" Dan asked, drawing away to look Casey in the eye.

Casey pulled him back and kissed him gently on the mouth. "Come to bed, Danny. We'll think about it in the morning."



FIN