They Say What They Say

Title: Overnight Delivery
Summary: "When I grow up I want to be on Sports Night too."
Rating: G. Not even two guys kissing in this one.
Pairing: Dan/Casey.
Disclaimer: Belongs to Aaron Sorkin, et al. Not mine, not money-- But Ceazar and Babbette are mine and you can't have them!
Note: Number eight in the Llama series. The rest can be found here.

Dedicated to suzy_queue for sending nice things in the mail.



When the afternoon mail delivery arrived, Casey stayed where he was and kept typing his script, leaving Dan to pounce upon it with his usual glee. As he pondered the Giants complete lack of ball handling skills, he could hear Dan muttering to himself as he sorted through the various parcels and envelopes.

"Me, Casey, me Casey, me, Case…huh?"

"What is it?" Casey asked as he pondered his prose.

"Do you sometimes get the feeling our fans take too much of an interest in what we do?"

"What?"

Casey looked up to find Dan standing there staring at a bright blue envelope he held in his left hand.

"What is it?" Casey asked, standing up. "It's not Mandy the so-called stalker again, is it?"

"Funny, Case," Dan replied with a snort. He shoved the letter toward Casey. "Look at this."

Wondering what all the fuss was about, Casey took the letter from Dan and looked at it. It looked like a perfectly ordinary letter to him, but Dan could get strange about things sometimes and it didn't pay to antagonize him. Not when he still had half a script to write.

"Danny, I don't…" he started to say then got a look at to whom it was addressed. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"You don’t think they're serious, do you?"

"I'd say the fact that they actually sent it would indicate that yes, they are serious."

Casey studied the letter for a moment longer. "Think we should tell Dana?"

"Are you kidding?" Dan snatched the letter back and started to open it.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"That's not addressed to you and I'm pretty sure there's one or two federal laws connected to tampering with other people's mail."

Dan snorted and started to sort through the detritus on the desk, presumably for a letter opener, stopping only when Casey snatched the letter out of his hand again.

"Hey!"

"I'm just ensuring it gets to the rightful recipients," Casey explained and started laughing when Dan did as he tucked the letter under Ceazar and Babbette who were sitting on the couch.

"Dana's not going to believe this," Dan said, coming to stand beside Casey.

"Who said we have to tell her?"

"Good point."

Casey stuck his hands in his pockets and bumped Dan gently with his shoulder. "Who would be sending the llamas fan mail?"

"It's not so much a question of who," Dan said slowly, "but what if they start getting more than us?"

"I hadn't thought of that."

"Probably just as well Dana won't let us bring them onto the set anymore."

"Probably."

"'Cause you know, it would be really, really embarrassing if people found out about this."

"Found out about what?" Jeremy asked from the doorway.

"Err, nothing," Casey said quickly, turning to face him. Dan snickered a little, but Casey shut him up with a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"Do I want to know?" Jeremy asked cautiously.

Casey shook his head. "Not really."

Jeremy nodded. "Good. Dana wants to know where we are with the Warner interview."

Casey shot a still snickering Dan a dark look then went over to the desk and grabbed his notebook.

"Tell her I've spoken to the press secretary and I should get some time with him on Monday," he said, flipping back a couple of pages. "They don't want to say anything until the official announcement's been made, but everyone I've spoken to is fairly certain that it'll happen."

"Okay, I'll let her know." Jeremy flashed him a puzzled smile and ducked out of the office.

Casey tossed his notebook back on the desk and tuned to find Dan reading the llamas' letter.

"What's it say?" he asked, moving to stand behind Dan and peering over his shoulder.

Dan raised the letter a little so Casey could it as well.

Dear Sports Night Llamas,

I'm writing to tell you that I think you are very cute. My name is Mercy Maxwell and I am 5 years old. I can't write very well so my mommy is writing this for me. I'm not allowed to stay up late, but my daddy tapes Sports Night every night and he lets me watch it when I get home from school. When I grow up I want to be on Sports Night too. Mommy says I can do whatever I want and that's what I want to do.

Yours sincerely

Mercy Maxwell

At the bottom of the letter was an indefinable scrawl in red crayon with two 'Os' and two 'Xs' drawn next to it in green.

Without saying a word, Dan went over to the notice board hanging behind the desk and carefully pinned the letter next to the photo of Charlie taken at Coney Island the summer before last. Glancing over his shoulder, he smiled warmly at Casey who grinned back, and then they both got on with their scripts.

FIN