SN Wip: Homophobic - Part One

[out_there]

I don't have all of the Homophobic Wip online. As promised, here is all that I've written of it.


Casey frowned as he walked into their office. "Am I homophobic?"

"No." Dan looked up from his magazine. "Why do you ask?"

Casey flopped into the armchair. "Dana said I was homophobic. I made a comment about one of the hen's night girls being a bitter lesbian, and she called me a homophobe."

Dan smirked. "You were talking about the one who got her thinking about her six month dating plan, weren't you?"

"How could you tell?" Casey replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "I wasn't being homophobic, I was just..."

"Being rude."

"You think?"

Dan turned his attention back to his magazine. "Well, also being mean and bitter, but definitely rude."

"You don't think I'm homophobic?" It shouldn't matter, because he wasn't, but it annoyed him that Dana thought he was.

Dan sighed and turned his page. "You're not homophobic, Casey."

"How can you be sure?"

Dan sounded bored. "How can I be sure?"

Casey frowned at Dan. He was sure Dan was deliberately being obtuse. "Yeah."

"How can I be sure that my best friend and co-worker, the guy that I end up spending nearly twelve hours a day around, isn't homophobic?" Dan rolled his eyes. "You're not homophobic, Casey. You're just mean."

"Good. Well, not good, but... good." Casey got up and walked over to the desk, starting today's script.

"I wouldn't have been your friend for ten years if you were homophobic," Dan added as an afterthought.

"Really?"

Dan looked up at him. "You remember Alex and Michael from college, right?"

Casey thought about it. He could vaguely recall Dan introducing them at parties. Honestly, he could only remember that Dan always seemed to have a crowd of friends at college. It used to be enough to make Casey wonder if he'd somehow wasted his college friend-making opportunities. "Vaguely."

"You didn't act any differently to them."

"So because you had gay friends in college, I'm not homophobic?" Casey asked, and Dan gave him a quick look. It was just a split-second of something, just enough to jar Dan's slightly bored grin for a moment. It was the type of look that Casey would have needed to rewind, pause and slow-mo to figure out its meaning.

"Did you think any worse of me for knowing them?"

Casey snorted. "No."

"Did you treat them as anything other than two guys with a limited understanding of sports?"

"No."

"You're not homophobic, Casey."

"Good."

"Just mean," Dan added with a teasing grin and turned back to his magazine.

***

Over the next few months, Casey totally forgot about that conversation. Between job fears, the sale of CSC and the Quo Vadimus purchase, everyone was concentrating too much on making the show good to worry about random comments. In fact, he didn't think about Dan's comment until months later, after everyone had realised that Calvin Travers really was going to let Isaac run the show the way he wanted, and everyone had started to relax, knowing Sports Night was safe.

It was suppose to be another celebrity challenge, but Dan's chance to reclaim his manhood, yet again, was thwarted by the helmet going missing. No helmet, no game. No game, but everyone gathered and prepared for a night of lively drinking, resulted in taking shots and playing drinking games. They were in the midst of 'I Never', and a game that had started off rather fun, had somehow devolved onto a highly sexual level.

"I never had sex on the subway," Chris announced. Casey looked around, watching as Kim, Dave and Dan dutifully emptied their shot glasses. It was a good thing that Kim had such a high tolerance for spirits, Casey thought as he watched Dan's unsteady stance.

"I've never slept with a porn star," Natalie said, beaming when Jeremy didn't reach for his glass. The only one who did drink was Kim.

Will's eyes widened. "Really?"

"What was it like?" Chris asked.

"False. Advertising," Kim pronounced with an exaggerated pout, causing most of the office to laugh. "Who's next?"

"It's your turn," Jeremy replied to her, supporting a rather drunk Natalie at his side.

Kim smiled widely. "I've never kissed a girl." The guys glared at her and one by one, downed their shot.

"That's not really fair," Elliot complained. "I mean, it's targeting the guys."

"Not necessarily," Kim replied. "I could have kissed a girl at college, or part of a threesome, or on a dare. I just haven't."

Chris glared at her. "In that case, it's time for revenge."

Kim shook her head. "Not so fast. It's Casey's turn."

"It's still time for revenge," Chris muttered, looking meaningfully at Casey.

Casey got the hint. "In that case, it's pretty clear what my question will be." The girls groaned. "I never kissed a guy."

"Sometimes, you are very petty, Casey," Dana slurred, swallowing her shot. There was no denying that the woman was a lightweight. Kim and Natalie clinked their shot glasses together and downed the liquid. Then Natalie leaned forward, and filled up another glass.

"It's not quantitative," Jeremy pointed out, slurring slightly. "You only drink once, regardless of how many guys you've kissed."

"This isn't for me." Natalie shook her head slowly and smiled a rather drunk grin at Dan. "It's for Dan."

"Big mouth," Dan muttered darkly, but reached across and took the glass from Natalie's hand. He swallowed it quickly, and then turned to Dana. "Your turn."

Dana just blinked at him. "Okay... I've never... I've never been this drunk while playing this game."

"That really doesn't count, Dana," Casey pointed out reasonably.

"Besides, you get drunk on the smell of shots," Natalie added. "No one's going to drink to that."

Dana pouted. "Well, I'm going home. It's..." She trailed off as she squinted at her watch. "What's the time?"

Casey looked over at the clock, squinting until the large numbers came into focus. "It's nearly four."

"Nearly four?"

"Almost," Casey confirmed.

"In that case, I think everyone should be going home," Dana declared. "You all need to back here in eight hours for the midday rundown, and some of us will have bad hangovers as it is."

The crowd was silent. After a moment of thought, Kim asked, "Is anyone sober enough to drive me home?"

Dan blinked. "Casey might be." Casey shot a quick glance over at Dan's helpful tone, wondering if it was a sly jab at Casey's lack of experience. Dan frowned as he thought, and Casey realised Dan was too drunk to be quite so subtle.

Dan slurred slightly as he said, "But he can't drive us all home. Probably best to chip in for cab fare together." Will and Chris nodded, and everyone started to work out which direction they were headed, and how many cabs were needed.

***

"You kissed a guy?"

"Casey." Dan looked up at him wearily. "*So* not your business."

"Well, yeah, but..." Casey shrugged and flopped into their armchair.

"Still not your business." Dan's keys seemed to clatter a bit too loudly.

Casey leaned over, grabbing the messy pile of newspaper from the couch. "I just... didn't know."

"Yeah, I figured."

He twisted his head around, to look over at the loud keyboard sitting on their desk. "Meaning?"

"Meaning the shocked expression on your face last night pretty much made that clear." Dan sighed and stopped typing. "If it helps, I wasn't keeping it from you. I thought you knew."

Casey's newspaper crumpled under his tight grip. "Why did you think I'd know?"

Dan shrugged. "Because I introduced you to Alex and Michael. Because I wasn't trying to hide that I was sleeping with them. I thought it was pretty obvious."

"You were sleeping with them," Casey repeated woodenly.

Dan laughed. "Okay, you hadn't realised that, had you?"

Casey spoke slowly, working on autopilot. "No, not yet."

"Well, now you know," Dan said and turned back to the keyboard.

***

A few days later, they hadn't brought it up again, but Casey had to ask. "Do you still sleep with guys?"

"Do I still...?" Dan parroted, looking at Casey I surprise. "You know, this is still none of your business."

Casey crossed his arms, and leaned back against their table. "It is my business."

"How?"

"It's our show. Calvin might not be Luther Sachs, but this is still something that could kill our ratings pretty quickly."

Dan grinned. "It could bring us a whole new audience."

"I'm serious, Dan."

"Yeah, I know. But it's still none of your business."

Casey huffed in impatience. "Do you still do it?"

"No," Dan said, perching on the desk. Casey felt relieved, until Dan added, "And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

He pushed himself off the table, standing up straight. "Why not?"

Dan looked at him and pronounced each word carefully. "None. Of. Your. Business."

"You tell me about the women you date. I tell you about my dates. Why is this not my business?"

"Because it would change the way you behave, Casey."

"What do you mean?"

Dan shifted on the desk, swinging his legs as he spoke. "You'd suddenly become self-conscious about comments. The next time you called me a woman, you'd stop yourself and wonder. You'd start to keep an eye on me in interviews, and start editing my script, to make sure that I didn't come across as vaguely gay."

"Well, probably..." Casey acknowledged.

"I'm not going to live like that, Casey. I don't make it obvious. *You* never realised. I don't need you watching over me all the time." Dan shrugged. "Not to mention, you're not a great liar."

"So?" Casey asked, confused.

"So, someone would say something, and your reaction would show. That, in and of itself, would be enough to start rumours."

Casey deflated at that comment. After a pause, he said softly, "You could trust me with this, Danny."

Dan smiled gently. "I really couldn't. I need to check the tape," Dan said and walked to the door.

"Okay." Casey shrugged. "I just... wanted to know."

Dan stopped with his hand on their door handle, and turned back to face Casey. "I don't, okay? I'm in sports journalism and I'm not stupid. I know the consequences of this."

"Good," Casey said as Dan walked out. "I just wanted to know."

***

Dan was using the laptop, the keys making a soft sound as he typed. He was sitting at the table, writing in starts and stops, the way he always did. It was such a familiar scene, familiar sight and familiar sound, that Casey normally didn't even notice it. Today, he was wondering how it could feel so familiar. How it could reassure him that Danny was still Danny, even if Danny was suddenly... not quite who he thought Danny was.

He must have been staring, because Dan looked up at him pointedly. "What?"

"Do you miss it?" Casey blurted out.

Dan blinked at him. "Do I miss what?"

"Umm..." Casey said, stalling. "Working on the computer? You seem to use the laptop all the time."

Dan shrugged. "Not really. I like the keyboard."

"It's too small."

"The keys feel better. Softer. More... bounce."

Casey grinned. "Bounce?"

"I'm making writing a tactile experience," Dan said, and then turned back to his page. Casey snorted and turned back to the PC, complete with its larger, harder and louder keys.

***

Things between him and Dan weren't precisely bad. They were just... a little strained.

Casey was man enough to admit it was mostly his fault. He was on edge, uptight. It was the strain of wanting to ask questions and knowing he shouldn't. Knowing he couldn't, because Dan would just turn around and tell him it wasn't any of his business.

Casey knew Dan was technically right. It really wasn't anything to do with him. And, he trusted Dan. He knew that Dan wouldn't do anything stupid, but... He still wanted to know.

It was strange to have this thing, this huge part of Danny's life that Casey couldn't ask about. That he wasn't allowed to know about. It wasn't as if Casey spent all of his time asking Dan about his family or his sessions with Abby, but those were different. He didn't need to ask. He knew Dan would tell him eventually.

And that was the nub of it. It wasn't that Dan hadn't wanted to tell him about this, it was that Dan *wouldn't* have told him. He'd told Natalie. He'd known Casey for five years longer. He'd slept over at Casey's place; he'd held Casey's month-old son; he'd shared Casey's sandwiches. But he didn't want Casey to know about this.

It hurt. It hurt in a way that it really shouldn't have. They weren't a pair of women twittering about painful break-ups and the latest fashions. They were men. They talked about sports and drank beer, and shared stories of sexual conquests. And if Dan didn't want him to know about some of them, it really shouldn't have mattered.

But it did.

***

"Catherine Zeta Jones," Dan said, leaning back on the bar stool. Dana and Natalie were discussing something at the table behind them, and somehow the topic of celebrities had come up.

Casey shook his head and reached for his beer. "Nope."

"You wouldn't sleep with Catherine Zeta Jones?"

"Isn't that hyphenated? Zeta-Jones?"

Dan shot him a sharp look. "I don't think you're right, but I doubt you could tell if I was saying it with or without a hyphen." Casey shrugged and swallowed. "But, my question remains. You wouldn't sleep with Catherine Zeta-Jones?"

"I don't have good luck with brunettes."

"I've never seen you date a brunette," Dan leaned back on the barstool, and it looked like Dan's will was the only thing stopping gravity and intoxication from dragging him to the floor. "How could you know you don't have good luck with them?"

"My first kiss was with a brunette."

Dan snorted. "And from one bad adolescent kiss you will blame all brunettes?"

"I just prefer blondes," Casey said, thinking of Dana, Pixley and Sally. He thought about Lisa, and decided that strawberry blonde was still more blonde than red.

Danny started humming something under his breath, and then shook his head. "I can't believe one kiss could be that bad."

"Spin the bottle. She bit my tongue. It was bad." Danny snickered and Casey glared at him. "What about your first kiss?"

"Mine?" Dan blinked, and a wistful smile appeared on his face. "My first kiss was with a redhead. Cathy. It was... fun."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh." Dan looked far too smug. "You know that 'seven minutes in heaven' game? Sometimes it really is seven minutes in heaven."

Casey rolled his eyes. "I wasn't so keen on party games."

"You were spending your time wearing leotards and doing the splits," Dan shot back with a grin.

"What about the first time you...?" Casey started and then trailed off as he realised what he was about to ask. He really didn't think he was quite drunk enough for that.

"First time I slept with a girl? I was fifteen, she was a brunette, and it was... not bad. Could have been better, I'm sure, but..." Dan shrugged. "I still enjoyed it. What about you?"

Casey nodded, even thought that wasn't what he was going to ask about. "Senior year. Blonde, drunk and half-forgotten."

Dan nodded ruefully. "I had a lot of those in senior year too." Casey had the urge to ask if that had been with guys or girls, but swallowed another mouthful of beer instead. It tasted flat against his tongue.

***

It mattered because Casey wanted to ask and had to keep censoring himself. It mattered because he kept waiting for Dan to confide in him, to take him aside and tell Casey about these faceless, nameless men that he'd slept with. Casey was surreptitiously watching Danny for signs of an approaching confession, and it never came. Dan was just Dan and Casey was just edgy.

The bad thing about this was that it affected Dan, too. Casey was uptight, his script was dull, and his jokes were flat, and that made Danny tense. It made Danny work harder to cover it, to be funny enough for both of them, which made Casey feel guilty and ridiculous; in turn, Casey's words became even harder to find.

Their everyday banter became short and terse. The show became lifeless and forced, and when Dana asked what was wrong, Casey could only shrug.

Dan echoed his shrug and just said, "It's the ides of June. Bad time of year."

Dana scowled at them. "That's the ides of March, you morons. What the hell is up with you two?"

"Nothing." Dan shook his head and Casey found himself mimicking.

"There isn't anything wrong, Dana. It's just... June. The weather's lousy and the pollution counts up and there's a Republican in the White House," Casey whined, waving his hand loosely as he spoke.

"Hmph." Dana watched them carefully. "It's just a general malaise?"

Dan nodded. "It's a general malaise."

"A vague apathy," Casey added.

"An overwhelming ennui."

"A general mal..." Casey frowned. "Wait, we've used that one."

Dan grinned. "A certain feeling of comme ci, comme ça."

He raised an eyebrow at Dan. "Maybe, maybe not?"

Dan blinked. "What?"

"That's what you said," Dana explained, smiling.

"Comme ci, comme ça. Maybe, maybe not," Casey translated.

"Oh." Dan paused. "Maybe I meant je ne sais quoi?"

"A certain feeling of I don't know what?" Casey asked doubtfully, and Dan's brows lowered in thought.

"Maybe not."

Dana cleared her throat. "Whatever Dan meant, could you guys try to fix it?"

"We can certainly try," Casey said helpfully. "But I think the weather thing is kind of beyond our control."

"But we'll get right onto the Republican in office thing," Danny added with a grin.

"If you guys are joking about politics, I'm going to assume that everything will be fine." With those words, Dana turned to leave. For a while, she was right.

***

Dan was being petty and Casey had lowered himself to the same childish standards. The C-breaks had turned into snide bickering, broken by occasional obvious silences as they both pointedly ignored the other. Ignored the other for about thirty seconds, and then started squabbling again.

Casey wasn't sure what they were fighting about. This wasn't a case of not understanding the other person's point of view; it was that he honestly couldn't remember. They'd been fixing something after the eight o'clock rundown, and it had turned into the kind of prolonged argument that belonged in a school playground. Dana had rolled her eyes and said they were just like her brothers, fighting because they were bored.

"Two and a half minutes back," Dave announce over the PA, and Casey settled into another sulking silence.

Dana's voice buzzed in his ear. "Casey?"

"Yeah?"

"The Houston game was five-three, not four-three."

Casey glared into the camera. "So?"

"So your script, and the teleprompter, says four-three."

"Got it," Casey said and reached for his pen to add in the correct scores. Or tried to add the scores, until he realised his pen was out of ink. Irritably, he looked at Dan. "Give me your pencil."

Dan's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "I don't think so."

"Dan, don't be ridiculous. Give me it."

"Bite me." Leaning back in his chair, Dan twirled the pencil in his fingers. "It's one score. You'll remember it. You've done it before."

"I could remember it, but I don't want to." He couldn't believe that Dan was being so ridiculous about something this stupid. "Give me the pencil so I can write it down."

"Hmmm..." Dan titled his head, a mockery of deep thought. "No."

He glared at Dan and Dan glared back. "You can be childish and refuse, or you could act like a professional and give it to me."

"Or you could *bite* me."

"Or I could *fuck* you," Casey growled back, and then blinked at his script with the deafening realisation that he'd actually said that.

The studio seemed unnaturally quiet, and Casey shuffled the papers just to have an excuse not to look over at Dan.

"Swear jar," Dana said over the PA. Try as he might, Casey couldn't hear any amusement in her tone. She sounded cranky.

"Dana-"

She cut him off easily. "Swear jar, Casey." He sighed but Dana didn't let it go. "Do I need to remind you how it works?"

"No. I know the rules." Of course he did. When he'd first started working with Dana in L.A., she'd instituted the swear jar. At the time, he'd hated it. It wasn't as if he swore much to start with, but that first had cost him hundreds of dollars.

"You swear at the office, or on the set, or near a camera, it's fifty dollars. Fifty dollars a swear word, Casey."

It had always seemed ridiculously expensive, but after the first few months, he stopped swearing at work. It had certainly helped his career in L.A. When one of the main sports reporters had been surprised on-air, and swore rather loudly and creatively on live television, Casey had suddenly found himself allocated to the more popular sports. At the time, he'd toasted Dana and her swear-jar.

"I *know*, Dana. But I don't have the cash on me."

"But you will have it tomorrow morning?"

Casey sighed and bent his neck. "Yes, Dana." Something sharp poked his arm, and he looked over to find Dan holding out his pencil and watching him speculatively. Casey took the pencil, but had a mental blank as to the correct score.

"It should be five-three," Dan said blandly.

"Thanks."

***

"I'm sorry," Casey said uncomfortably after the show. Dan had already changed into street clothes, and was lounging across Kim's chair with his feet on her desk. The others had gone home, or gone to Anthony's. Dana's tight glare had made it clear that he needed to apologise to someone else.

Dan glanced over at him, and then turned his attention back to Kim's computer screen. "You're sorry?" he asked disinterestedly.

Casey grimaced. "I'm sorry. For what I said."

"Yeah?" Dan clicked the mouse a few times. He was acting far too casual, and it just made Casey feel worse.

"I'm sorry for being childish, and for calling you unprofessional."

"And for swearing?" Dan asked, leaning forward to stare at the screen.

Casey felt about eight years old, like being forced to apologise after breaking someone else's toy. He had to fight the urge to look down and scuff his foot against the carpet. "And I'm sorry for swearing."

"Uh-huh," Dan said, biting his thumbnail and watching the monitor. Slowly, Dan moved his hand away from his mouth and settled it on the mouse. Then he scrunched his eyes and clicked.

"What are you doing?" Casey leaned over Dan's shoulder, getting a brief whiff of Dan's airy aftershave and the slightly citric smell of make-up remover.

Dan kept his eyes tightly closed. "Did I explode?"

On the screen the Minesweeper face smiled and asked for Dan's name. "You won."

"Yes!" Dan scrambled to the keyboard. He typed in "Ha!" and hit enter. When the highest scores for each level showed up, they read "Ha!", "Ha!", "Ha!"

Casey blinked at the computer screen, still leaning over Dan. "And again I ask, what are you doing?"

Dan closed down the games. "I'm playing with Kim's mind. It drives her nuts that someone keeps beating her high scores."

He was still looking over Dan's shoulder when Dan turned to say something else. Dan's cheek grazed against his, surprisingly soft and warm, and Casey quickly stood up straight, not quite sure why it startled him so much. Dan just looked over his shoulder, the victory grin still shadowing the corners of his mouth, as he watched Casey calmly.

Casey shook his head and just blamed it on being overly tired. "Don't you think she'll suspect you?"

"Doubt it," Dan replied smugly, swinging his legs as he spun the chair around.

"Why?"

"She's looking through the computers for proof of a good player. I reset the scores on the laptop and I've been throwing games for the last month."

"You sabotaged your own scores just to allay suspicion?" Casey wondered aloud and Dan nodded. "You play on the computer, too. What if she checks that?"

Dan bounced to his feet and placed a hand on Casey's shoulder. "That's the beauty of it. Kim's seen you play. She knows how terrible you are, so she's not checking that computer."

"Thanks," Casey deadpanned.

"I get to screw with her mind and I get to keep my highest score. This is a beautiful scam."

"You'll never get away with it," Casey said, feeling like he'd stepped out of a cheesy murder mystery.

Dan laughed evilly, following the cliched cue. "But I already have."

"Really?" Casey asked lamely as Dan bent over and switched the computer off.

"Yeah. Kim thinks it's Jeremy."

Casey chided Dan's back, "Danny."

"It's okay. Jeremy's got Natalie defending his honor."

"Are we going to be punished for this?"

Dan leaned back against Kim's desk, grinning smugly. "I don't think so. Natalie's sure it's one of the production guys."

"Dan." Casey sighed. "Are you sure that's wise? This may backfire badly."

"This from the guy who just swore on the set of a live national broadcast?" Dan said easily, rolling his eyes.

"We weren't on air, and I said I was-"

Dan held up a hand and shook his head sharply. "I know," Dan said and one side of his mouth quirked up, as if he was thinking about saying something but decided against it.

"Still, I'm sorry. I've just been..." Casey shrugged.

Dan raised his brows. "Jumpy? Edgy? Neurotic?"

"Off."

Dan speared him with a disbelieving look. "Casey, for the last two weeks you've been so politely distant I wonder if you remember that we're friends. Or you jump down my throat the second I open my mouth."

Casey felt the corners of his mouth tense. He thought he'd covered his bad mood better than that.

"You do remember I'm your friend, right?"

Casey cringed. "I'll try to stop acting like such a jerk," Casey said uncomfortably, already wanting this conversation to be over.

Dan shook his head and stood up straight. "No. I mean, you remember I'm your friend?" Casey nodded, confused, and Dan continued, "So you know you can talk to me about whatever's bothering you, right?"

"Nothing's bothering me." The response was so automatic Casey didn't even have to think about it. It just sprung, fully-formed, from his lips like some ancient Greek god... Casey frowned, trying to remember the mythical reference.

"Nothing?" Dan narrowed his eyes. "Casey, the only time I've seen you edgier than this was during the divorce. That's a pretty bit nothing."

"I don't know what's bothering me, okay?" Casey retorted with a little more force than necessary.

Dan took half a step back, holding his hands up. "Fine. But if you figure it out, you know you can talk to me."

Casey let his breath out in a long hiss. "I know." At least he sounded reassured, and that seemed enough for Dan.

***

Casey couldn't sleep. It wasn't particularly surprising. It just happened from time to time. Dan could never understand it because he fell asleep at the drop of a hat. Casey had seen it in cars, buses, planes and trains. Dan just closed his eyes and leaned his head against any handy surface, and with five minutes, he was asleep.

Casey always took at least half an hour to fall asleep. Always. Regardless of how tired he was, his body refused to fall asleep easily. He'd lie there, staring at the ceiling and trying to empty his mind. He either fell asleep or lay there for hours, until he just had to get up and do something. Turn on a game, read a book, reorganise his kitchen cupboards.

That was why Casey was rearranging his linen cupboard at four in the morning.

It was a smaller linen cupboard than he used to have, but on the other hand, there was less linen. Interestingly enough, it all seemed to fit in the same linen to space ratio; just enough shelves for just enough linen. Casey wondered if it was a universal truth that linen cupboards would always be just right, and bedroom closets would always be too large or too small.

There were fitted sheets, flat sheets and a winter bedspread on the top shelf, and the pillowcases were now stacked in a neat pile on the left. The second shelf had towels and hand towels. He'd followed the towelling theme, to the tea-towels were on that shelf, too.

The next shelf down, second from the bottom, was Charlie's shelf. That was where Charlie's bedding lived on the nights that Charlie didn't stay over. There was a bright blue sheet and a garish matching comforter, covered in some bright cartoon that Casey wouldn't be able to name if his life depended on it.

Charlie had chosen it. It had been in the first month after Casey had moved out, back when he'd just realised that there was nothing temporary about this separation. Lisa had said that she wanted a divorce, that she'd been unhappy for too long, that obviously they just couldn't make their marriage work. She'd talked about it like it was an old car, some old piece of junk that wouldn't start any more. It seemed appropriate that Casey never had been any good at fixing their car.

Casey's first reaction to the news had been to take Charlie shopping. Lisa had accused him of playing Santa Claus, of trying to buy his son's love. She'd been furious, said it was dirty and underhanded, but Casey hadn't meant it like that. Not really.

He just wanted Charlie to have something that was his. For Charlie to know that just because his father had moved out, just because Casey now lived in a one bedroom apartment within walking distance to work, that it didn't mean that Charlie wasn't welcome. It didn't change anything; it didn't mean that Casey wasn't Charlie's Dad.

At the time, it made simple sense; he wanted Charlie to have a home with him. Since then, Casey has realised that a one-bedroom apartment isn't Charlie's home. Charlie's home is with Lisa, in a pleasant house in the suburbs, with his own room and a small yard out the back. Casey's apartment is just 'Dad's place' to his son.

So, he'd bought the fold-out couch and then they bought bedding, and unpacked it together. He'd dubbed that shelf as Charlie's, so Charlie would know that he always had space at Casey's apartment. It never made Casey's place home. And it didn't stop Casey's heart from breaking when Charlie looked at him seriously, asking if Casey would come back home if Charlie promised to do better in school.

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, Casey turned back to organising the shelf. He neatened Charlie's sheets and Charlie's comforter, and put Charlie's pillow on top of it. Casey had also found an old teddy bear of Charlie's tucked up the back. He wondered if Charlie even knew it was here, or if Charlie had purposely hidden it. Shrugging, Casey sat it on top of the comforter and then turned to the remaining bedding spread around him on the floor.

A summer bedspread that his mom had given him, and that he still hated with a passion. Casey was tempted to just throw it out, but guilt made him shove it to the back of the bottom shelf. Then there was the spare comforter, which Casey folded and put back in. The idea of letting Dan use Charlie's bedding always felt weird, so he kept a spare comforter just in case Dan stayed over. That had happened more frequently, ever since Dan realised that even when really drunk, he could still easily walk from Anthony's to Casey's place.

The only thing left was a dark red sweater that Casey couldn't remember buying. Shrugging to himself, he stood up and shook it out. He closed the cupboard door with a certain sense of pride, and was about to hang the sweater in his closet when he remembered. It wasn't his sweater; it was Dan's. Dan had left it here weeks ago, and Casey kept forgetting to give it back. Sighing, Casey left it over the back of his couch, and decided to bring it in tomorrow.

***

Occasional insomnia was something he and Dana always had in common, even back in college. Once exams started, they'd both be awake until the indecent hours of the morning. Lisa called them night-owls, and joked how convenient it would be to have those extra hours to study. He'd just laughed it off, uncertain as to how to explain that just because they couldn't sleep, didn't mean they weren't tired.

In Dana's case, it made her edgy and hyper, full of manic cheer. In his case, it just made him cranky. Especially these days, when he had a whole group of people telling him to get a good night's sleep before the bags started showing up.

When he dragged himself in to the office, Dan greeted him with the last comment he wanted to hear. "Have you been sleeping?"

"No, Danny," Casey snapped spitefully. "I spent the whole night having a New York renaissance."

"I just meant-"

"Don't tell me to get some sleep, okay?"

Dan shook his head, and pushed the script away from him. "You need to sleep, man. You can't survive indefinitely-"

"If this segues into your story of the seventy-two hours of bio-chem study, I am going to shove that pencil through your eye."

Dan blinked at him and turned back to his script with a frown. "Well, someone got up on the cranky side of bed today," Dan muttered under his breath.

Casey glared at the script in front of Dan. It looked like he'd already finished a third of it. Just the thought of writing was enough to make Casey's head pound. "Yeah, Dan, I purposely got up on the cranky side of bed," Casey griped. "I woke up and decided that what I needed to make today fly by was a bad mood."

"God forbid I should imply that you have any control over your bad temper." Dan slammed his pen down on the table. "If you need me before the rundown, I'll be in editing," Dan said, standing up.

Casey groaned and rubbed at his eyes. This was not a good way to start out the morning. In a list of ways to start the morning, it was way down the list. Then, Casey remembered the sweater. "Wait."

"What?" Dan said tightly, but stopped angrily gathering pages.

"You left this at my place," Casey said, handing over the sweater. "I didn't mean to snap like that. I got like an hours sleep last night, and as it is, I'm going to have Natalie, Dana and Alison riding me about this."

Dan took the sweater and grinned. "If you snap at them, you're going to be in real trouble."

Casey flopped down on the couch. "I think you're right."

"I frequently am." Dan grinned and sat down beside Casey. "I've been looking for this for ages."

"It was in the bottom of my linen cupboard," Casey said distractedly.

Dan watched him closely. "How come you're not sleeping?"

Casey sighed and let his head fall back against the back of the couch. "There isn't a how come, Dan. I'm just not sleeping."

"There's always a how come."

"What?" Casey asked, blinking at Dan.

"There's always a reason."

"No, there isn't. I just have trouble sleeping sometimes." Casey stared at the ceiling. "It comes, it goes. It just happens."

Dan snorted and Casey glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "You have trouble sleeping when you're worrying about something."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't," he said, sitting upright. "I'm the one losing sleep. I think I'd know if something caused it."

Dan scoffed at him, twisting his lips into something that vaguely resembled a frown. "It's probably the fact that you don't understand what causes it that causes it."

Not even Casey could follow that logic. "Care to repeat that argument for those of us who don't live inside your head?"

"You don't sleep because you're stressed," Dan explained with a wave of his hand. "If you had the ability to recognise when you were stressed, or what you were stressed about, you'd probably deal with it. Instead, you just lose sleep over it and wait for it to go away."

"It just happens, Danny. It's not psychosomatic."

"I didn't say it was," Dan said, stretching his neck to the side and standing up. "I'm just saying it happens for a reason."

Casey snorted. "Where's your proof of this ridiculous claim?"

"When Dana was seeing Gordon, you stopped sleeping as much."

"I was still spending the same number of hours in bed." Casey leered as he added, "I was just spending them with Sally."

Dan's mouth tightened, the way it always did when he mentioned Sally. "Okay, not counting now, when was the last time you lost sleep?"

"Hmmmm..." Casey thought about it. "There was that week in September."

"When you were going all psycho-dad about Charlie possibly being bullied?" Dan asked pointedly.

"Uh... yeah." Come to think of it, that was when Charlie had been having trouble.

"I rest my case," Dan said, sitting down at the table again.

Casey huffed and pushed himself off the couch. "It doesn't prove anything."

"Sure," Dan said sarcastically.

"It doesn't." Casey sat down at the desk and picked up his pen lethargically.

"Sure."

"It doesn't."

Dan laughed. "It does, Casey, but let's just let that go for now. Are you watching the tennis on Monday?"

"Probably." Casey shrugged. "It's the Wimbledon finals. Everybody will watch it."

"Yeah, but are you watching it on Monday night?"

"I might tape it, and watch it Tuesday."

"I'm thinking about inviting some people round to my place. Make a party out of it." Dan twirled the pencil in his fingers. "You interested in coming?"

He almost said yes, but... "Considering my current mood, it's probably better if I'm not around people." Dan kept watching him, so Casey added, "Besides, I've got Monday off. It won't hurt me to get an early night."

Dan turned back to his script. "Okay."

***

Casey did have an early night on Monday. He had a long relaxing bath and then set the VCR to tape Danny and Wimbledon, and got into bed by ten.

Of course, that didn't help much when he couldn't sleep.

He counted down the minutes after eleven, and then gave up on sleeping, and wandered into his living room to watch the second half of the show. Dan looked good, even sitting beside Bobbi. To be honest, Casey had to admit that Dan and Bobbi were getting on much better these days. At least Dan no longer spent the day before stressing about sharing the anchor desk with her.

Casey rewound the tape and watched it from the beginning. Watched Dan's serious expression as he reported the latest infamous legal case, watched Dan's bright, and somewhat forced, smile as he reported the soccer highlights.

At a quarter to one, Casey decided to call Dan and see if the invitation for tonight was still open. Dan's phone went straight to the machine, meaning he was either on the phone, or the game had already started and his didn't want to be disturbed. Shrugging, Casey jumped in the shower, then threw on some clothes and headed over to Dan's place.

He arrived with a six-pack of beer and buzzed Dan to let him in.

"Yeah?" Dan asked distractedly, his voice crackling over the intercom.

"Could you let me up?"

"Casey?" Dan didn't sound too enthused, but Casey had hardly been the life of the party lately. "Yeah, sure. Come on up."

He took the elevator up, and knocked on Dan's door with a little trepidation. Dan wouldn't have mentioned it to him if he wasn't invited. He was almost sure of that.

Dan answered it, blinking at the bright corridor light. Casey just blinked at Dan's outfit. It was an unusual sight: bare feet, long bare legs, bright red boxers and an old, off-white t-shirt. Casey blinked, but his mind seemed to have stalled on the thought that Dan's t-shirt was far too thin and far too tight.

"Are you going to come in?" Dan asked, stepping away from the doorway and rubbing his eyes tiredly.

Casey he took a good look at Dan's scruffy hair, flat on one side and sticking up on the other. "You were asleep?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you were having people round?" Casey asked uncertainly, shifting on his feet. The beer bottles clinked lightly.

"They decided to watch it at the station. I figured I'd get an early night, and watch the tape with you tomorrow."

"Oh," Casey said as Dan hid a yawn behind his hand. "I thought... I'll go."

"Nah," Dan replied with a wave of his hand. "You're here now. Come in and watch the game."

"Sure?" Casey asked, even as he followed Dan into the dimly lit room. He grinned when he realised the TV was already on.

"And you can share those beers," Dan added with a sleepy grin.

Casey snickered and sat down on the couch, but Dan disappeared into the bedroom. "You will be watching this, right?"

"As much as I appreciate free beer," Dan called out from the other room, "I'm not getting dressed for it." He walked back in with a comforter messily thrown over one shoulder.

Casey watched Dan settle onto the couch, comforter tucked up to his chest, beer sitting beside him and remote in hand. "All set there, Danny?"

Dan nodded happily. "All set. Hey, kick your shoes off. Get comfy." Casey did as he was told, and then reached over and yanked the comforter until it covered him, too.

"Hey!"

"Share and share alike, Dan. I'm sharing the beer, you share the comforter."

Dan snorted. "I'm sharing my TV and my couch. Isn't that enough?"

"No."

Dan rolled his eyes but didn't try to pull the comforter back. Instead, he just shifted on the couch, huddling beside Casey. "Fine."

Then the commercial break was over and they both turned their attention to the screen. It wasn't until the next commercial break, about ten minutes later, that Casey noticed how quiet Dan was being. Tennis might not be Dan's first love, but Danny was normally pretty vocal about all sports, even the ones he detested. When Casey looked over at Dan, he saw Danny was fast asleep; eyes shut, mouth slightly open, and breathing the deep, steady breaths that would eventually become loud snores.

Everyone looked younger when asleep, and Danny was no exception. The soft line of Dan's jaw always made him look young, but fast asleep, he looked like a college kid sleeping off a big exam. It wasn't that Dan looked older when he was awake, so much that... Dan looked *on*. Dan smiled and charmed and flirted when he was awake. There was always that faint tension around his eyes, that slight stiffness to his shoulders; all that extra energy coiled and waiting to be released on air.

It was just part of Dan. It always had been.

When they'd first met, Dan had seemed to be constantly rushing from one thing to another. He helped out with the drama production, went on political rallies and worked on the student newspaper. He held down a part-time job at the local station, and somehow managed to go to parties and dated a string of gorgeous girls, and get ridiculously good marks. Just listening to him would make Casey feel old and tired. Dan was constantly doing one thing, planning another thing and discussing something else entirely.

But these days, Dan wasn't quite as energetic. Casey wondered it if was just age creeping up on Danny. Danny was rapidly approaching thirty, and he had a demanding job with long hours. He wasn't a college student with energy to burn anymore.

Another part of Casey suspected it had more to do with Abby. Dan had been far more... *settled* since seeing her, far less mercurial in a lot of ways. It was oddly troubling to think that he'd taken things for granted about Dan really weren't Dan at all. Or at least weren't healthy for Danny.

A sudden cheer from the television distracted Casey and with a sheepish grin, he realised he'd been sitting and staring at Dan. At least Dan wasn't awake to tease him about it. Thinking of that, Casey figured he ought to go and let Dan sleep.

He shifted the cover back, and Dan responded by muttering in his sleep and leaning sideways, wrapping a loose arm around Casey's shoulder. Dan pressed his head against Casey's shoulder and mumbled something in his sleep. Casey rolled his eyes. Even asleep, Dan didn't like his guests to leave.

Casey leaned forward, trying to pull Dan's arm down without disturbing him, but Dan just dropped it to Casey's waist and held on tighter. Casey sighed, but was loathe to wake Dan twice in one night. It wasn't as if Casey was going to fall asleep; he'd just end up watching the rest of the game on his couch, anyway.

It seemed unnecessary to wake Dan up just so he could go home. It was a far better idea to sit here and wait for Dan to turn over in his sleep. Then, Casey could escape quietly, without waking Dan up. Strangely content with this plan of action, Casey settled back against the couch, making himself comfortable and wrapping an arm around Danny.

***

Casey's first thought the next morning was surprise - surprise at the weight lying on his chest, surprise at the sound of snoring against his shoulder. Blinking himself awake, he looked down to see Dan snoring contentedly. Somehow, they'd both ended up spending the night half-lying and half-sitting on the couch.

The television was still on, but Casey was pretty sure he hadn't even seen the end of the match. "Danny?" Dan didn't respond, so Casey nudged him gently. "Dan?"

Dan muttered incoherently against Casey's chest and tried to bury his head against Casey's sweater. Some people aren't awake until they've had a shower or a cup of coffee. Dan wasn't awake until he'd had a shower, a strong coffee *and* a decent breakfast. "Danny? You have to wake up."

It was still pretty dark, so they'd probably only napped for an hour or two, but Dan would be far more comfortable in bed. "Dan, wake up."

"Wha' time 'sit?" Dan asked blearily, raising his head to glare at Casey. The glare was somewhat mollified by the way that Dan's t-shirt was rucked around his underarms. It was hard to be intimidated when Dan was only half-dressed.

"Don't know," Casey said while Dan pushed himself into a sitting position and pulled down his t-shirt. "Judging by the darkness in here, it's pretty early."

Dan's glare stepped up a notch on the cranky scale. "I have good curtains, Casey. Lack of light means nothing."

Casey stretched and then looked at his watch. It was an expensive watch. Lisa had given it to him for his thirtieth birthday. "It's... That can't be right." But his watch had never been wrong before.

"What time is it?" Dan asked sharply.

Casey grimaced. "Twenty past twelve?"

"Shit!" Dan surged up, dashing for the phone. Apparently, adrenaline was a great replacement for caffeine. "Dana's going to kill us."

Casey groaned. "Yeah, she will."

Dan urgently pounded the phone's keys, and then held up a hand for Casey to be quiet. "Yeah, Dana... No. Casey's here too... yeah, we're fine." Dan grimaced and Casey could just imagine Dana's worried anger. "I'm sorry, Dana... Yes, I'm sorry... We just overslept... Yeah, Casey's... You want t...? Sure," Dan said, gesturing at Casey to come over there. "He's just coming, Dana."

Dan handed him the phone and Casey took a deep breath as he lifted it to his ear. "Morning, Dana."

"You overslept?" She sounded incredulous.

"We overslept."

"You overslept? Casey, seriously, how do you two just sleep through the midday rundown?"

"We didn't sleep through," he objected half-heartedly. "We weren't sitting in the conference room sleeping through it."

"You just sat at Dan's place and slept through it."

"Sorry?" he tried hopefully. Dan shot him an understanding look.

"You overslept. Isn't Dan's alarm working?"

Casey cringed and shot a look at Dan's bedroom, where Dan's alarm had probably trilled for an hour or so, completely impotent against the noise of the TV and the silencing effect of a closed door. "I think it's working."

"But it didn't wake Dan up?"

"We watched the match last night and fell asleep on the couch. We didn't hear it."

Dana snorted and Casey had the distinct impression that she was trying not to laugh. "Put Dan back on."

He shrugged at Dan's raised eyebrows and passed him the phone. "Yeah, we fell asleep in front of the TV...Hmmm..." Dan paused for a moment, staring at Casey. "He looks better. Tired instead of dead on his feet," Dan announced with a grin. "If we leave now, we could be there by one..."

Casey looked at his watch, but didn't point out to Dan that midday traffic made that ETA highly unlikely.

"Really? Thanks, Dana. You're the best... Really, thanks." Then Dan laughed at something and said, "I will, I promise. See you at three."

He hung up the phone and Casey watched him curiously. "Three?"

"As it's a Tuesday, Dana gave us a reprieve until three." Dan grinned and then slapped him over the head.

"Ow!" He scowled at Dan, rubbing his forehead. "What was that for?"

"That was for not using the annoying alarm on your watch." Shrugging, Dan added, "I promised Dana I'd do that."

"In the grand scheme of things," Casey said with a cautious grin. "It's worth a little pain to be able to have a shower."

"And clean clothes."

Casey nodded and then frowned. "I have to go back to my place for those."

"I keep saying you need to leave a spare set of clothes here," Dan said, stretching his arms above his head and forcing his t-shirt to ride up a couple inches. Casey heard Dan's back crack as he leaned back slightly.

"I'll try to remember next time," Casey replied with a smile, knowing that he would never remember to bring them. Dan grinned back at him, and he guessed Dan knew that too.

"Give me twenty minutes to shower and dress, and then we'll go to your place. And we'll probably still have time for breakfast," Dan said cheerfully.

***


Part Two