SN Wip: Homophobic - Part Two

[out_there]

Dan took one look at him when he came in on Wednesday morning and announced, "You're sleeping again."

Casey rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop his lips from twitching up. "Good morning to you too, Danny."

"You are," Dan said as he crossed their office and placed two hands flat on the desk.

Casey nodded. "I am."

"Alison is going to have a field day. No bags under the eyes, no cranky glare," Dan said as he leaned across the desk, staring critically at Casey's face from barely a foot away. There was an absurd moment of watching Dan studying him, watching Dan's eyes flicker across his face. Then Casey noticed Dan's almost smirk, and he realised Dan was just trying to psych him out somehow. Casey might be tired, but he wasn't going to back down from a staring match.

Casey distracted himself from Danny's scrutinising gaze by trying to classify the brown of Dan's eyes. He was vaguely disappointed that he could only come up with the cliche of chocolate brown, which wasn't particularly accurate. Muddy brown would be better, although it did lack a certain... flair. There had to a better word. Warm, maybe...

Then Dan's gaze met his and something changed in Dan's expression. Something that made Dan swallow, that made his eyes widen a bare fraction. It made Casey vaguely uncomfortably, made him wonder what the hell was happening. So he did the first thing that came to mind. He pulled a face.

He pulled his jaw to one side, raised his eyebrows, stuck his tongue out, and crossed his eyes. When Charlie was a baby, he used to do to make Charlie laugh. It made Danny laugh too.

Dan dropped his head to the desk and let out a loud guffaw. "Oh, man," he said, still chuckling. "Where's a camera when you need one?"

"I'd say they're still in the studio," Casey replied, smiling. It felt surprisingly good to hear Dan laugh. He wondered how much of a pain he'd been lately.

"We have a new entry on my birthday wish list," Dan wheezed. "This goes straight to number one." Dan really did keep a mental wish list. Any time of the year, he had at least five presents that he wanted. It made him easier to shop for, and was Dan's not so subtle way of making sure Casey bought something Dan actually wanted.

"It's kicking the Spice Girls and mallomars out of their reigning position?"

"They have lost their number spot."

"They must be crushed," Casey offered dryly.

"I'll try to break it to them gently."

Casey grinned at that comment, and then realised Dan hadn't told him the new gift. "So what do you want now?"

Dan grinned from ear to ear. "Make that face on air."

"And that would be better than the Spice Girls?" Casey asked uncertainly.

"Come on, Casey. It'd be great!"

"For your birthday, you want me to expose myself to public humiliation and mockery?" Dan nodded enthusiastically. "You had a better chance with the Spice Girls."

Dan snorted and sat down on the couch. "You have no sense of adventure."

"I fail to see how making a goofy face on air is adventurous," he replied, turning back to his script.

"You are a timid, timid man." When Casey looked up, Dan was smiling at him warmly. Casey had to smile back.

***

August was passing in a blur, the way it always did. Every year, June and July felt normal, then August started and suddenly, it was only a few days to his birthday. Casey had eventually just accepted the fact that regardless of how long August looked on a calendar, it would always feel about a week long.

He was half-way through the week of August when Natalie started quizzing everyone on their favourite cartoon characters. Apparently, it said something important about your basic personality, but Casey had tried to tune out as much of her explanation as possible.

When she asked him, he replied easily, "Donald Duck."

Natalie rested a hand on her hip, watching him closely. "Warner Brothers."

"What?"

"Which Warner Brothers cartoon character is your favourite? Bugs Bunny? Daffy Duck?" Casey was thinking about it as Dan walked in, startling Natalie by creeping up behind her.

He tapped her on the shoulder and she spun around. "Argh! Dan, don't do that."

Dan laughed and didn't look at all contrite. "Sorry, Natalie."

"Dan, who's the martian guy in the cartoon?"

Dan sat down on the couch, brow furrowed in confusion. "Who?"

Casey rolled his eyes. Pitching his voice higher, he said, "Where's the kaboom? There was supposed to be an earth-shattering kaboom!" It wasn't a particularly good impersonation, but it made Danny and Natalie giggle.

"Marvin the Martian," Natalie said, still snickering as she marked it down on her clipboard. "Dan?"

"Favourite character?" Dan asked and she nodded. "Wile E. Coyote."

"Interesting choice," she said, bobbing her head as she noted it. "You guys get the update on the NASCAR highlights?"

Dan waved a piece of paper. "Got it in my hand."

"Good." Natalie nodded curtly and headed off.

"So," Dan said after she left. "We're a pair of evil masterminds?"

"Who get outsmarted by wildlife."

Dan grinned. "We're not particularly bright masterminds, are we?"

"I don't think so." Casey turned back to his screen for a moment, but couldn't resist the joke. "I'm kind of surprised you picked Wile E Coyote."

"Really?" Dan raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I would have thought you'd prefer Elmer Fudd."

***

As soon as the show was over, Natalie bounced over to the anchor desk. "So, Marvin? Wiley? You guys coming out with us tonight?"

"You bet," Casey said as he pulled off the earpiece. "I even brought a blue t-shirt."

Natalie beamed and turned to Dan. "Wiley?"

"I can't."

Natalie pouted. "Why not?"

"He's waiting for his latest delivery from ACME," Casey suggested with a grin.

Dan smiled. "Hey, anytime you want to lend me a couple dehydrated goons? Go right ahead." They stood up and started back to their office.

"I thought they were minions," Casey said as they walked through the bullpen, Natalie tailing them.

"Goons."

"Dehydrated goons?" Casey shrugged. "Either way, they were a cool idea."

"Certainly beat the giant slingshot."

Natalie pushed between them and then spun around and stopped, holding her hands up to stop them as well. "So, Casey's coming and Dan has no excuse?"

Casey looked to Dan and waited for the explanation. As far as Casey was aware, Dan didn't have any plans tonight.

"I have plans," Dan said, shrugging.

"What plans?" He and Natalie shouldn't speak in sync. It was disconcerting to hear her enthusiasm trilling over his own words.

Dan looked from one to the other. "You guys need to try to not do that. It's kind of freaky."

Casey nodded. "I noticed."

Natalie nudged him with her elbow. "What plans?"

Dan grinned but he looked a little uneasy. "There's an old college buddy in town. I promised I'd get together with him."

Natalie tilted her head. "You're not looking forward to it?"

Danny cringed. "It's going to end up comparing careers, cars and houses. Trying to prove who's more successful."

"But you'll win, right?" Casey asked and Dan smiled at him.

"Yeah."

"And, when he walks into El Perro Fumando and sees you enjoying a large blue margarite, having a great time with a bunch of good-looking people," Natalie said with a sharp, take-no-prisoners smile, "He'll already be jealous."

Dan rubbed his hands together and smirked. "That's a great idea."

"I know how to play the old school friends game," Natalie said smugly.

"The only problem is finding a bund of attractive people at this time of night." Casey found it hard to sympathise with Dan when Natalie hit him with her clipboard.

***

Dan was playing with the margarita glass, tapping a toothpick against the rim.

"Are you going to drink that?" Casey asked pointedly.

Dan looked at the half-empty glass and then turned to Casey. "I've already had one. I don't want to get too drunk."

Casey scowled for a second while Dan went back to staring at the blue concoction. Dan had been oddly terse since they got here. He'd ducked into their office to call his friend, then they'd come here and Dan had been slightly tense ever since. Casey had hoped that relaxing with friends would reassure Dan that he lived a highly enviable life, but Dan had been lost in his own thoughts. "You really think he's going to brag that he's more successful than you?"

Dan's eyes narrowed. "It's not that he's going to brag. It's just... He always had a way of making me feel unsuccessful. He dropped the toothpick on the bar and swallowed deeply. Casey watched Dan's Adams apple bob, and then dropped his gaze to the bar top. "He always made me feel as if I was wasting my time. As if my priorities were all screwed."

"Even in college?" Casey asked wonderingly, and Dan nodded. "You were one of the most bizarrely together college students. I'm kind of frightened by the idea of someone who made you look bad."

Dan's lips quirked into an almost-grin. "I'm starting to think this was a bad idea," Dan said and emptied his glass.

"Dan," Casey said seriously, resting a hand on Dan's shoulder. "You're under thirty and you co-host a national broadcast, which consistently rates third in an extremely tough market. You do a job you love, with people who genuinely care about you, and you regularly receive letters from attractive women offering various sexual favours. I think you pretty much define successful."

"Thanks." Dan smiled softly, and Casey had the brief thrill of knowing he'd said the right thing.

"But if you're not feeling up to it, you can go home and I'll tell him you came down with the flu."

Dan laughed. "Nah, I think you were right the first time. If one of us is going to feel awkward and second-rate, it should be him."

"That's the spirit," Casey cheered him, raising his glass and clinking against Dan's empty one. "Use your fame to make all other men feel inferior."

Dan was still snickering when someone slithered up behind him. The guy's hair was dark brown and artfully messed, and his suit was slick and understated. He smiled at Dan and Casey grudgingly admitted the guy was good-looking; glancing behind him, he saw the guy was good-looking enough to garner both Natalie's and Kim's attention. Maybe there was a reason why Dan felt threatened by him.

"Hey, Dan," he said in a friendly tone. There was something about it that made Casey's hackles rise.

Dan grinned a little too brightly. "Did you find it alright?"

"It was easy enough," Dan's friend said, leaning one hand on the bar. "But who names a bar Tony Anthony's?" Casey decided he really didn't like this guy. Casey turned away, looking over his shoulder to hide the unimpressed glower that he was probably wearing. Kim caught his eye and shrugged.

When he looked back, the guy had moved closer to Dan, and was resting his forearm on the bar. He was telling Dan how his conference ran behind schedule. Dan was nodding along easily and Casey understood why Dan had been on edge; the guy had been late. Casey felt a little bit reassured in his irrational dislike for the guy.

Casey almost spilled his drink in surprise when Kim suddenly spoke behind him. "So Dan, who's your friend?" Smiling warmly, she stepped closer to them and held out her hand. "I'm Kim. And you already know Dan, who seems to be very rude about introductions."

"Michael," the guy replied, shaking her hand.

Dan shook his head. "Sorry. Michael, this is Kim and Casey. I work with them at Sports Night. Guys, this is Michael. He's an old friend from Dartmouth."

Casey nodded his head and Michael, but didn't offer his hand. "Did you want to stick around and have a beer?"

"Or a giant blue margarita?" Kim offered with a sly smile.

"Actually, I'm starving," Michael said, looking at Dan. "I though we could go have dinner somewhere. Catch up on old times without boring everyone to death?"

"That's probably a good idea," Dan said and slid off his stool. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Have fun, boys," Kim said with a knowing smirk and Dan's eyes narrowed for a second. "Don't forget you've got the interview tomorrow."

"Twelve-thirty. I know," Dan replied, rolling his eyes at Casey.

"It was nice meeting you, Michael," Casey said civilly. The guy nodded but didn't respond, which really annoyed Casey. There was no excuse for bad manners. As Dan turned to go, Casey rested a hand on Dan's wrist. "Remember what I said, okay?"

Dan smiled, and this time there was some warmth there. "I will."

***

Casey was typing up the baseball results when Kim sauntered in. "Dan has a hickey."

Casey blinked and then looked over at her smug grin. "What?"

"Dan has a hickey," she repeated.

"How do you know that?" Dan hasn't been into their office yet; he was still doing that interview with [...??? Football reference - August 2000].

"Jim's shooting the interview and he gave me a call to say that Dan has a hickey."

Casey looked down at his keyboard and considered his reply. Asking who Jim was would be pointless. Asking why Jim had bothered to call Kim was probably self-explanatory; half of the guys Kim met want to sleep with her, and she'd say the other half were either shy or unavailable. He could ask why Kim cared that Dan had a hickey, but he really didn't need another lecture on the power of information and the entertainment value of gossip. In the end, Casey settled on, "Huh."

"Huh?" Kim asked, clearly expecting a different reaction.

"What do you want from me? A parade?" Casey shrugged. "It's not the first time Dan's come in with a hickey."

She sighed. "Fine. Anyway, these are the stats for the (Baseball) game," she said, placing them on his desk.

"Thanks," Casey said and then turned back to his script. The second she was out of sight, he stopped pretending to type. Deleting the gibberish of the last two lines, he wondered about Danny's hickey. As far as Casey knew Dan wasn't seeing anyone, which implied that he must have met some woman last night.

Casey leaned back in his chair, thinking it was kind of unfair that Dan could do that, could meet a woman and charm her into bed that night. Casey was attractive, and despite Dana's occasional mockery, he knew how to flirt, so there wasn't any logical reason why Dan could do the one-night stand thing so easily. He just could.

On the good side, at least there'd be an interesting story to break up the afternoon. Dan was many things, but discreet wasn't one of them, Casey thought with a grin.

Maybe it had more to do with the fact that Dan was a natural born storyteller. As long as you didn't let his frequent asides distract you, Dan weaved a good tale. Unless, of course, you asked for detailed explanations; unless you interrupted his flow with unimportant questions, which Casey did a lot. Dan would say this was because Casey was ferret-minded. Casey liked knowing the details. He liked knowing the cast of characters, understanding their motives and attitudes, before he started a story.

The other reason was because he liked annoying Dan. There was a certain fun in seeing how many times he could interrupt before Dan would give up altogether. So far, Casey's record was nine times, during an enthusiastic report of Dan's last game with [David Duvall?]. Dan had eventually stalked off, muttering about philistines with no appreciation for golf. Casey had ended up hearing the condensed version through Jeremy anyway.

Casey turned back to the computer screen and tried to concentrate on the script. He was actually staring at the screen and wondering how Dan met her; how Dan had ditched Michael. He wasn't really working, but if he stepped outside his office he was pretty sure he'd get accosted by Natalie and her amateur gambling ring. By now, she's probably giving odds on the hair color of Dan's mystery woman. Casey wasn't quite better and immature enough to bet on his best friends' romantic life. Instead, he was going to sit here and wait for Dan to tell him all the juicy details.

The next half-hour passed at a snails pace, as slow and deadly as Chinese water torture. Casey could almost feel the minutes dripping onto his skull. When Dan showed up, Casey was certain Dan's arrival saved his sanity.

"Hey," Casey said brightly, beaming at Dan.

Dan frowned and closed the office door behind him. "What?"

"What what?" Casey replied, confused.

"Everyone's grinning at me. And you're usually not so please to see me," Dan said suspiciously.

"I'm always pleased to see you."

Dan's eyes narrowed. "What gives, Casey?" Casey tried to look innocent, tried to silently encourage Dan to confide in him. Dan didn't look convinced. "The only time you look that innocent is when you know what's going on. Spill."

Casey grinned. "You have a hickey." From the way Dan's hand flew to his neck, Dan was well aware of that fact. Although with the camera make-up, the alleged hickey couldn't be seen.

"Regardless of that, what's going on?"

"You have a hickey," Casey explained. "And everyone knows you have a hickey."

Dan sat down on the couch, glaring at the carpet. "How?"

"Kim knows the cameraman."

"Great," Dan said sourly, his jar tense.

After a few quiet seconds, Casey prompted, "So?"

"So?"

"So, how did you meet her?" Casey leaned forward eagerly. "Is it someone we know?"

"Just once, I'd like to have a personal life that wasn't common office knowledge," Dan said, reaching for the notes Casey had left on the couch for him.

"I think you need to change jobs for that to happen."

Dan sighed. "Probably."

"So..." Casey said, watching Dan's less than thrilled expression. The night mustn't have ended well. "You want to talk about this later?"

Dan nodded and started looking over the notes from the rundown. "Much later."

***

"Casey, you remember sharing and punishment?"

Casey thought for a second. "Isn't that Crime and Punishment? I haven't read it in ages."

Natalie glowered. "Sharing with me, or being punished. You remember?" For such a tiny girl, Natalie possessed the intimidation factor of a seven foot quarterback. Logically, it stood to reason that somewhere in the world, there was a very physically impressive man with a very timid temper. "Do you remember the concepts of sharing and punishment?"

"I thought I was exempt from that?"

"You are, because I don't have an agreement with you. I have an agreement with Dan."

Casey was manly and brave, but he was primarily relieved. "Okay."

"But you remember?" Natalie asked, staring at him.

Casey nodded. "Sure."

"Could you remind Dan?"

"Why? What hasn't he shared?"

"Last night," she said peevishly. "He came in with a hickey this morning, but he refuses to share any details."

"He's going to get punished for this?" Casey briefly wondered when his workmates had crossed the line from charmingly eccentric to outright crazy. Maybe it had been on his last night off. "It was one date. Surely he's entitled to a little privacy?"

Natalie frowned. "He hasn't shared with you either?"

Casey shrugged. "Not yet."

"Huh." Natalie watched him closely for a long moment.

***

"Apparently, you haven't shared with Natalie," Casey said when Dan returned from editing.

Dan sat down on the couch, crossing his ankles over the arm of the chair. "Are you going to nag me about this, too?"

Casey shook his head, and turned back to his script. "Not nagging. Just stating a fact." Dan eyed him doubtfully and Casey clarified, "Natalie asked me to remind you."

Dan snorted. "She's enlisting your help to make me share. There's a really obvious joke in there somewhere."

"She said you had an agreement."

"We had an agreement about you and Dana." Casey shot Dan a look but Dan waved it off. "It helped Natalie scheme and it let us avoid excess heartbreak or jealousy."

"That worked really well," Casey said sarcastically.

"When you and Dana start flirting, the office goes haywire. The sharing arrangement is damage control."

"I don't think we're as bad as that," Casey said and Dan shrugged. "Is there a reason why you're not sharing?"

"A private life is supposed to be private," Dan said grudgingly. "And Natalie's got a big mouth."

Casey snickered. "Pot, meet kettle."

"What?"

"You and Natalie are the two biggest gossips in the office," Casey said with snide grin. "That's a pretty hefty boulder from a really glassy house."

Dan stared at him for a moment. "Have you got those cliches out of your system?"

"Make hay while the sun shines, Dan."

Dan groaned.

***

Casey tried asking Dan about last night gently, but Dan side-stepped the questions. He kept changing the conversation topic, making Casey forget about the mystery woman. He'd avoided Natalie's questions too.

Casey would have been impressed if he wasn't so frustratingly curious.

By the time they go on air, Casey devised a different mode of attack, a sneakier approach. If he couldn't get Dan talking about the mystery woman, he'd get Dan talking about his night out with Michael. Lull him into a false sense of security. Eventually, Dan would let something slip.

"So," Casey started after they threw to Kelly for a few minutes. "I can't shake this feeling of familiarity."

"Familiarity?" Dan asked, grinning at him.

"I feel that something is familiar."

"In your highly organised, habitual and, dare I say monotonous, lifestyle, you're experiencing a sense of familiarity? I'm shocked." Dan tried hard, but couldn't quite keep a straight face. "No, I'm serious, Casey. I'm shocked. Absolutely astounded."

Casey rolled his eyes. "There is a sense of familiarity and I think it's Michael."

Dan blinked. "Michael?"

"He seems familiar." Casey thought it was probably just because everyone went to school with someone like Michael; everyone knew at least one irritating, smug alumni who couldn't wait to show you up.

"Casey, why are we talking about this?"

"He seems familiar," Casey said. He didn't add that he wanted Dan to talk about his night out, but couldn't ask outright, because Dan would see through that ploy in a second.

Dan looked over his script. "Could be because you've met him before."

"Really?" Casey was bad with names. Actually, he was bad with faces, too. Well, he was bad with remembering people in general, but he really couldn't remember meeting Michael before. "You sure?"

"When I was in college," Dan added, not looking up. "He used to be blond."

"I don't remember him at all."

"He was the guy who supported the Red Wings because his brother-in-law did."

"Oh." Casey frowned, suddenly remembering the somewhat smarmy business major. There was something extremely annoying about people who said they supported a team, but actually had no personal interest in, or knowledge of, said team. If you didn't follow the sport, you should be honest enough to say so. "And you're still friends with him?"

Dan jerked his head around and shot Casey a wary look. "We were… close friends in college."

"What?" Casey was more confused by Dan's reaction than Dan's reasonable answer. Dan shook his head sharply and then gestured at the clock.

Dave's voice came over the P.A. "And we're back in three, two..."

Casey waited until the next C-break and then tried again. "So, despite Michael's superficial loyalty, you had a good time last night?"

"Casey, just drop it," Dan said tersely.

"Why?" Casey asked, and gave up on subtlety altogether. "Did something interesting happen?"

Dan glanced at him briefly. Dan's eyes were surprisingly blank, which was highly unusual and probably not a good sign. "We went out. We had a couple of drinks. That was it, okay?"

"Okay," Casey said, holding his hands up in surrender. Dan cleared his throat and turned back to his script. Casey read over the next few features and watched Dan carefully ignore him. "I just don't get what the big deal is."

"I was good friends with him in college. Can you drop it now?"

Casey sighed and waited for the red light to glow on the cameras. The next two sections of the show passed quickly enough and Dan seemed fine. The trick was knowing the difference between really-annoyed-Dan and just-a-little-thrown-Dan. Bothering one was a bad thing, bothering the other was a lot of fun.

When Dan didn't initiate conversation during the first ten seconds of their next break, Casey decided to push a little more. "I thought I was your only friend at college," he said with a cheeky grin.

"I had plenty of friends at college," Dan replied with a quick smile. "Unlike you, I wasn't burdened by the dork-factor of being on the gymnastics team."

Dan was right; he'd had plenty of friends at college compared to Casey. That had more to do with Casey's awkward shyness during those early college years, than with being a member of the gymnastics team.

Casey snorted. "Well, I was your only *good* friend at least." Dan had a crowd of people he called friends, but… those friendships seemed to be very superficial. Everyone knew of Dan, everyone laughed at Dan's jokes or admired Dan's grades, but they barely *knew* Dan.

Casey had been surprised at the number of people who said Dan was 'a great friend', but didn't know the little details. They didn't know Dan had technically grown up in Connecticut, but considered New York his home. They didn't know that Dan could roller-skate with an impressive amount of skill, but was inexplicably hopeless on a bike. They didn't know that Dan watched figure skating, even though he didn't understand the scoring system at all.

They seemed to think that Dan actually suffered from home-sickness. They saw Dan's bright (and to Casey, almost brittle) cheer after speaking with his Dad, but didn't see it was Dan's way of hiding the strain in his family relationships. And none of Dan's 'friends' understood why Dan always drove at the speed limit, and never drove under the influence.

"You weren't the only person who knew me," Dan responded, looking at the timer.

Casey noticed that Dan didn't deny that a lot of his so-called friends hadn't really known him. "Really?"

"Really."

"Really?" Casey asked again and Dan glared. "How many of your college friends knew you wanted to be a ballerina when you were a kid?"

Dana laughed through their earpieces, and Casey wondered when he'd grown used to semi-private conversations being suddenly interrupted. "A ballerina?"

Dan looked up at the camera in defiance. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"There are a lot of things wrong with that," Dana replied. "But picturing you in a pink tutu is on the top of that list." Casey blinked and wished that mental image hadn't just been inflicted on him.

"I was four, okay?"

"He liked the sound of the word," Casey added with a grin.

"You did?" Dana sounded sceptical.

"Yeah," Dan replied. "I didn't actually know what it meant."

Casey waited for Dana's reply, but she must have been distracted by something more urgent. Their earpieces remained silent, and after a moment, Casey turned his attention back to Dan. "So."

"Yeah?"

Casey leaned back in his chair. "How many people know?"

"Everyone standing in the control room, and probably half of the people in the studio," Dan replied with a grimace.

"From college," Casey insisted. "How many college friends knew about that?"

"You." Dan looked up at the ceiling in thought.

Casey grinned. "And?"

"And..." Dan's brows lowered as he thought. Casey was just waiting for him to admit that Casey was right. "Michael. And Alex."

"Two friends," Casey hooted, holding up two fingers. "Two friends. Two is not plenty, Dan."

Dan looked at him out of the corner of his eye and shrugged. "It's plenty enough."

"It's a pretty small number. Just two. Just Alex and Michael." Casey frowned for a split-second, trying to work out why that seemed familiar.

"I don't get close to a lot of people," Dan replied glibly.

Glancing up at the clock, Casey started mentally counting himself back from the commercials. "Apart from dear Alex and Michael," Casey said and then realised. Realised where he knew those names from and remembered Dan's casual grin. Realised that the Jeopardy answer to clueless was 'Who is Casey McCall?'.

"Apart from them."

"Alex and Michael?" Casey asked, but his own words were echoing in his skull. 'You were sleeping with them.' For a moment he thought he'd said it out loud, but Dan was still smiling, so he knew he hadn't."

"Yeah," Dan replied, sounding bemused. "Michael and Alex."

"Alex and Michael," Casey said slowly, staring at Dan and wanting his mind to stop whirling *now*. He wanted the thoughts to stop now, because he might be oblivious but he wasn't stupid. Michael was *Michael*-Michael. He was college-Michael, none-of-Casey's-business-Michael. He was Dan's-slept-with-guys-Michael. Suddenly, Casey didn't need any more information to work out where Dan's hickey had come from. "Alex and Michael from *college*?"

Dan half-nodded, and Casey knew that Dan knew that Casey knew. Or that Casey had just remembered that he knew. Shaking his head, he tried to dislodge the fog of sudden understanding from his mind.

"We're back in ten, Casey." Dan just watched him, his face perfectly calm. Ridiculously calm, considering that Casey had just clicked that Michael was actually Dan-*still*-sleeps-with-guys-Michael.

Casey swallowed and glanced at the timer again. "Yeah."

"You cool with the intro?" Dan asked quietly.

Casey nodded and blinked at the teleprompter until the words 'Alex and Michael' and 'Michael and Dan' blurred back into their script. Taking a deep breath, he got his game face back on. "I'm good."

***

Casey was furious. He'd spent the rest of the show slowly fuming, and by the time the end credits had rolled, he'd stewed in his own juices long enough to become a very cranky casserole.

He was furious at himself: for letting this get to him; for misspeaking three times during the last twenty minutes on air; for not realising sooner. He had all the information at his fingertips, and he just hadn't realised, he hadn't understood the connection until it was right in front of his face.

If he was angry at himself, he was positively livid at Dan. Dan, who hadn't warned him that Michael was *that* Michael. Dan, who hadn't told him *why* Casey shouldn't have kept asking about last night while they were on air. Dan, who had told Casey very clearly that he didn't do that, didn't sleep with guys, anymore.

Casey had dragged himself through the show, and kept his smile firmly pasted on, but the second they were out, he was gone. He yanked the earpiece out, shoved it onto the desk and stormed over to wardrobe. He'd almost lost a button pulling the shirt off, but he'd managed to return the clothes undamaged, handing the rumpled pile to Monica without a word.

Striding back to the office, he ignored Jeremy's raised brows and Natalie's hushed, "What's up with him?"

He also ignored Elliot's reply. "I don't know, but I don't want to stick around to find out."

He closed the office door behind him, and stood with his back to it, staring at the dark sky. Dan's jacket is still on the coat rack and Casey clenched his fist as he waited for Dan to return.

The office door opened quietly, and Casey waited for the soft snick of it closing behind Dan before he turned around. "What sort of a stupid stunt...?" Casey growled, walking over to Dan in quick, sharp steps.

"I wasn't the one forcing the issue during the breaks," Dan replied, setting his shoulders firmly.

Casey's jaw was so tense it hurt. "No, you were the one..." He didn't say the rest of the sentence because it's all too clear why Dan was at fault. Although Dan didn’t seem to see it.

Dan should have apologised, but instead, he just glared back at Casey. "I was the one who *what*?"

"I'm not an idiot, Dan."

Dan's smirk became decidedly mean. "Could have fooled me."

It was enough to make Casey take the few steps between them, to make him use that extra inch of height to fiercely stare down at Dan. He grabbed Dan's wrist, digging his fingers into the bare skin and hissed, "You were the one who let some guy fuck you, and then wore the hickey to work."

Dan's face paled and his lips compressed into a tight, angry line. "Are you in love with me?"

Casey blinked, thrown by the non sequitur. "What?"

"Are you screwing me?"

"No."

"Then what the hell does my sex life have to do with you?" Dan demanded heatedly, pulling his wrist back and giving Casey a firm shove backwards.

Casey stumbled, more from the unexpectedness of physical violence than from the actual force behind it. "Because it's my show, too. And I don't want to see it go down in flames," he said as he regained his footing and put a few more feet between them.

Dan closed his eyes for a long second, and said tightly, "I'm ignoring that bad pun."

"Dan, it's my career. I don't want it ruined because you can't control your hormones."

Dan glared at him as if he'd been punched. "That's rich, coming from you."

Casey leaned back against the desk, trying to make himself look far more relaxed than he felt. "Meaning?"

"Meaning the amount of restraint you showed around the moll gunning for Dana's job was truly impressive," Dan spat back at him.

"Sally wasn't-"

"Sally was and is, and you don't care as long as you get your rocks off," Dan said quickly. "And as long as it doesn't affect *your* career."

"Sally wouldn't have affected your career either." Casey stood up. His hands were fisted, and he could feel his nails biting into his palms. "*Michael* would."

Dan's eyes narrowed to dark slits. "Just for your piece of mind, Casey, I was discreet. You don't need to worry about your career just yet."

"Not until next time," Casey sneered spitefully.

"There won't be a next time."

"Somehow, I find that hard to believe."

"Yeah?" Everything about Dan's posture screamed challenge, and Casey wasn't about to back down.

"I seem to recall you promising me that before." Dan hissed and broke eye contact, turning his head towards the sinister skyline. Casey felt a vicious thrill. "Or it could be that you proved that your word can't be trusted."

After a moment of tense of silence, Dan breathed in loudly. "I didn't lie to you."

"You didn't?" Casey snorted. "So the part about you not doing that anymore was true?"

"It was."

Casey couldn't believe Dan's nerve. "Are you going to stand there and tell me that you didn't let Michael fuck you?"

"Casey-"

"That just insults my intelligence."

"Casey, what I did or did not do with Michael is none of yo-"

Casey took half a step towards Dan before he realised it. "Don't even try that line." He walked over to the couch, keeping the invisible boundary between them. "Frankly, it's wearing thin."

"It *isn't* your business," Dan growled.

"Yes, it is," Casey said, uncurling his fingers and noting the bruised crescents imprinted on his palms.

"How?"

"Maybe I don't want to work with a partner who's going to screw me over by fucking around!" Casey exploded and then realised what he said. He certainly hadn’t been thinking that. Now, he wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to take those words back.

"You know what, Casey? Fuck you," Dan barked and thundered out.

It wasn’t until a good ten minutes later that Casey calmed down enough to notice that Dan had left without ever collecting his jacket. Casey left it there for Dan to collect tomorrow.

***

The next morning, Dan called to say he'd be late. He was stuck in traffic and would be in as soon as he could. Casey cleared the message from the machine and went to Dana's office to relay it to her.

She was standing up behind her desk, bent over copies of today's rundown. "Casey," she said, surprised. Pulling off her red-framed glasses, she gave him a searching look. "What are you doing here?"

"Dan called to say he's stuck in traffic," Casey explained as he walked inside. He considered sitting down but Dana's chairs were always uncomfortable. Just a little too short for him to feel at ease.

"I know."

"You do?"

Dana nodded once. "He called me ten minutes ago."

That meant Dan had called her before he called Casey. Casey guessed he didn't care. After all, he'd sat in the office and let the machine get it anyway. "I just wanted to make sure you knew."

"I do," Dana said, and then looked at him like a piece that refused to fit into the puzzle. "Why are you here today?"

"I work here." Casey waited for her to make sense. It was possible that he was being overly optimistic.

"It's your day off." Dana blinked at him and smiled hopefully. "You know that, right?"

"My next day off is the twentieth," Casey pointed out logically.

"What day is it today?"

"It's Tues..." Casey trailed off as Dana tapped a pink fingernail against her desk calendar. "Ah. It's the twentieth."

Dana nodded. "And it's your day off."

"Apparently." Casey sighed and wondered how he'd lost a day. "I thought it was the nineteenth."

"I know." There was something about Dana's gentle smile that reminded him of the eighteen year old girl she'd been in college: considerate, well-mannered, and able to throw a mean punch. "Go home."

"I could help with the script," Casey offered.

"Go home."

"I could-"

"Casey, go home." She was strangely insistent.

"Why?"

"Because you and Dan had a major fight last night, and I think Dan will be counting on you *not* being here." Her tone was understanding, but it still made Casey bristle.

"That fight wasn't my fault. It's so typical that you automatically take his side," Casey grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.

"I'm not taking anyone's side." Dana sighed and walked around the desk. Stopping in front of Casey, she tilted her head back to look him in the eye. He was reminded of how short she actually was. "I'm not taking Dan's side, but he has to go on air tonight. I don't want you hanging around here, bored and picking at him."

"I'm not going to spend my day tearing him apart." Casey almost said that he didn't need to waste an entire day doing that; he could probably do it in an hour. The unkind thought made him look away.

Dana just patted his check. It was an affectionate, and vaguely patronising, gesture. "Casey, give him a day to settle down, and then work through this." She pulled away and went back to gathering notes from her desk.

"What makes you think he needs time to settle down?"

Dana raised an eyebrow. "The way you guys were growling at each other last night."

"Growling?" Casey had been under the impression that their office was basically sound-proof. Sure, it wasn't *technically* sound-proof, but with the door closed it managed to silence out the bullpen. "You could hear us?"

He really hoped she didn't say yes.

Dana paused and looked at him wearily. "I could see the pair of you circling each other like rabid hounds. I didn't need to hear you to know you were growling."

"Ah." Casey was overwhelmingly relieved. Having that conversation overheard would bring up a lot of issues Casey didn't want to deal with yet.

"Casey?" Dana had her notes stacked in her hands. "Do I need to worry?"

"About me and Dan?"

Dana's blue eyes were clear and knowing, but it was impossible to miss the support in her gaze. "This has been building since June." It wasn't really a question, but she made it sound like one.

"Maybe earlier," Casey admitted. He couldn't remember when that drinking game had happened, but it felt like years ago. Like he and Dan had been off their rhythm for decades.

"The CSC scale shook us all up," Dana said softly, placing the files back on her desk. "But you and Dan really took it to heart."

Casey's shoulders slumped, but he didn't think this had anything to do with the sale. "It's just..." He waved his hands, but it didn't make the words come to mind.

Dana gestured at her couch, and then perched on the arm. "Yeah?"

Casey sat down and then scrubbed a hand though his hair. "It's just... Sometimes, I'd like it to be easy. It just feels as if my entire life is full of difficult relationships."

Dana reached over and took his hand between hers. Her hands were small, but they were warm and strong, and her grip was firm. "What do you mean?"

Casey thought about it. He noticed that Dana's door was closed, even though he couldn't remember either of them closing it. "I mean... I loved Lisa, don't get me wrong."

Dana nodded. "But?"

"But for the last five years, or maybe more, I spent each day walking on eggshells. I wasn't sure what to say or what to think and... It was just difficult, Dana. Marriage shouldn't be about censoring your every action and still managing to screw it up." Dana squeezed his hand, but didn't interrupt. Casey swallowed. "Then there was you and me."

Dana's sweet mouth twisted down. "Me?"

"Should I shut up now?" Casey asked uncertainly, suddenly aware of who he was talking to.

Dana pushed a strand of hair away from her forehead. "No, go on."

"We're friends. We've been friends for years. We flirted and whatever, but we were still friends, right?"

Dana's head bobbed tentatively. "Yeah."

"Then suddenly, we weren't." Casey shrugged. "We kissed, and... We were almost but not quite dating, and then everything went... weird."

Dana laughed, and the sound was incredibly reassuring. "That's probably the best way to describe those months."

"Everything went weird and suddenly I didn't know where we stood.

Dana's brows lowered in concern, or possibly in guilt. "You didn't?"

"We'd always been friends. We flirted, we got a little jealous, but underneath that, we understood each other. We knew each other and we got on," Casey said, the ideas starting to flow. "I knew that I could talk to you. I knew that deep-down, regardless of how much we disagreed or psyched each other out, you actually liked me."

Dana leaned forward, holding their joined hands up. "None of that changed."

"It felt like it. It felt like..." Casey said uncomfortably.

"Like if we argued, I wouldn't like you anymore?"

"It felt like... I had to work to make you like me. That if I relaxed, if I stopped trying..." Casey trailed off, and wished this stuff came easier to him. Wished it didn't sound so moronic and irrational.

"That if you relaxed, I was going to look at you and think, 'Hey, I've know this guy for almost half of my life. How come I didn't figure out he's a total loser?'" Dana snorted, sounding amused. "You thought I'd suddenly realise that you weren't worth my time?"

Casey pulled his lips into a smile. "Just forget it."

She tilted her head, looking at him critically. When she spoke, her eyes were as soft as her voice. "I never meant to make you feel that way."

Casey's smile came a little unstuck. "I know you didn't."

"I *never* meant to make you feel that way," she said again. Her regret was heartfelt. "I never meant to make you feel you weren't good enough, or that you had to become someone else. I never meant that."

Casey's throat closed for a moment and he had to look away. "I never said you did," he said gruffly. "It was just the way I felt." He kept his eyes on the mottled carpet and didn't look up when Dana cleared her throat. He wondered if it was possible for silence to echo.

She dropped his hand and stood up, walking over to sit on his other side. "I've come to a conclusion."

"A conclusion?" Casey asked, and was pleased that his voice felt normal again.

"I don't think we're good for each other." He shot her a quick glance and she smirked. "Romantically, I mean."

Casey had to grin at her light tone. "Really?"

She nodded. "I think we've known each other too long."

"Sixteen years is a long time," Casey supplied.

"Exactly. We reduce each other to socially awkward freshmen. It's not good for us," she announced with a flourish.

"You could be right.'

"I think I am." Dana flashed a bright smile at him. There was something intoxicating about Dana discovering a new theory. She had a joyous enthusiasm that was simply endearing. "I think we're good friends but we'd be a terrible couple. Just thinking about dating makes us forget who we are."

"And who are we?"

"We are two mature, responsible adults," she said firmly.

Casey was helpless to resist her cheer. "We are capable and loveable people."

"Attractive and charming."

"Witty and erudite."

"And we are very good at what we do," Dana said and then gave into her giggles. Casey laughed too. "We need to remember that."

Casey was still snickering. "Yeah."

"I'm glad we've come to this conclusion."

"Me, too." Casey returned her smile. "I didn't want to think that I'd, you know... caused you too much pain."

"You didn't?" Dana sounded mildly surprised.

"I tried to let you down gently," he pointed out.

Dana leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling. "You did it very graciously. But I can't deny there was some pain caused." He looked over at her, but her smile was happy, if a little wistful. "You're a bit of a heartbreaker, Casey McCall."

Casey snorted and remembered his aunt telling him that he'd grow into quite the heartbreaker some day. Casey was pretty sure she hadn't expected it to take until he was over thirty.

"But it was a good kiss," Dana said thoughtfully. "Sometimes it's worth a little heartbreak for a good kiss."

Casey grinned. "It really was a good kiss. The sex would have been very good." He flushed slightly when he realised what he'd just said.

Dana hmmm'd appreciatively. "The sex would have been *great*." Casey shot a shocked look at her and she shrugged one shoulder. "What? I'm not allowed to have a libido? Don't be such a guy."

Casey shook his head and had no idea how to respond to that.

Dana rolled her eyes. "So, how does this link to Dan?"

He blinked in surprise and said, "I don't know how great sex links to Dan."

Dana nudged him with her bony elbow. "Not the sex. How does the me and Lisa thing link to Dan?"

Casey grimaced, almost unwilling to return to return to the subject. He'd have been happier contemplating great sex with Dana. Dana nudged him harder.

"It took me ten years to figure out what Lisa wanted from me – just to leave her alone and get out of her life. It took the next year and a half to figure out what you wanted, too."

"I didn't want you to leave me alone," Dana said, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her tone.

"No, but it took me that time to realise you didn't really want me as a boyfriend." Dana nodded quickly and Casey continued. "Now? I can relax around you, and around Lisa, because it's... resolved."

"No more walking on eggshells." This was the reason he and Dana were friends. Sometimes, she just got him.

"But as soon as we were sorted out, my friendship with Dan went off the rails."

Dana scowled. It wasn't a pretty expression. "Draft Day."

"Yeah."

"You guys have been bad since then?" She sounded worried.

Casey tried to reassure her. "Dana, we're professionals. We're not going to let that happen to the show again."

"That wasn't what I asked," Dana pointed out doggedly.

"It hasn't been all bad," Casey said, staring at the blue sky outside Dana's window. "It's just... we're fine and then we're not. And it's not all my fault," he assured her quickly. "But..."

"But?" Her shapely brows rose, and he looked down at his hands.

"I don't know. You, Lisa and Dan are the only people who've known me over ten years. Maybe my relationships just come with an expiration date."

"Expiration date?" she echoed.

Casey wondered if the sunshine ever poured through her window. He doubted it, but he thought it should. "Maybe I'm just bound to screw them up after a certain number of years."

Dana bumped him with her shoulder. "He's been your best friend for over ten years. You're not going to lose him over a bit of an argument."

Casey wanted to believe her, but he wasn't quite as sure. Dana watched him carefully, and he was reminded of the way she lost Gordon, the way she lost Sam. Dana probably wasn't the best judge of these situations. "Thanks."

Dana stood up, smoothing her long skirt. "What's this argument about?" He could almost hear her unspoken thought, maybe a bit of interference wouldn't be a bad thing.

"Just... stuff," Casey said lamely, shrugging at her. "I don't want to gossip behind Dan's back. It's kind of personal."

She seemed to accept that. "Okay, but if you need to talk, my door's always open."

Casey twisted his neck towards her office door, which was currently closed. "Actually, it's not."

Dana cleared her throat and half-grinned. "Very funny. Now, go home and get some rest. You can sort this out with Dan tomorrow."

***

He wandered home, dawdling along warm city streets and gawking up at the towering skyscrapers like a tourist. He had an entire day, fourteen unexpected hour, and he didn't know what to do. No plans, no arrangements. In the end, he called Lisa.

She was surprised to hear from him. "Casey? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Lisa." It was a valid first reaction; he and Lisa didn't call up for casual chats these days. "I've got today off work. I wanted to have Charlie this afternoon."

"It's not your day to have him." She sighed and sounded tired. It was easy to picture her standing over the phone in the kitchen, leaning on the counter and rolling her eyes. "It's only Tuesday."

"I know."

"It's a bit short notice, Casey."

"I know." Casey shrugged and then recalled that she couldn't see that. He wondered if she could imagine him as easily as he imagined her. She'd only been to his apartment twice, so probably not. "It was a spur of the moment decision."

"I have to pick him up in a couple hours," she said reasonably and Casey knew she was thinking about giving in.

He kept his tone friendly and civil. "Nanny's day off?"

"Yeah."

"Did you have any plans with Charlie?" That would be the deal-breaker. If Lisa had plans, there was no way Casey would get to see him. Trying to cancel Lisa's plans was like trying to avert a natural disaster: you took your life into your hands and, generally, didn't acheive a thing.

She hesitated for a moment. "Not really. Nothing that can't be rearranged."

Casey grinned. "I could pick him up from school and have him home to you by about... eight?"

"What are you doing with him?"

"I thought I'd take him to the movies," Casey said, even though he hadn't had any such plans. Charlie would enjoy it. "I'll buy him dinner before I take him back."

"Make sure he doesn't fill up on popcorn." He could easily picture her unimpressed frown, but he didn't care. He was surfing the wave of victory. Victory over what, he wasn't sure, but it was victory all the same.

"I'll make sure."

"And don't let him eat too much sugar. I don't want him bouncing off the walls until midnight."

Grinning triumphantly, Casey said, "I'll make sure he eats well."

"And not a minute after eight, Casey."

"I'll see you at eight," Casey agreed happily, already planning where he'd take Charlie to eat. "Bye, Lisa."

"Goodbye." The click, as she hung up, echoed down the line.

***

Comments

[out-there.livejournal.com]

REALLY nice twisting of a cliche babe.

Thanks! Casey seems to really like keeping his cliches and metaphors straight, so I could just imagine him exaggerating a cliche, but being very careful to keep the original meaning intact.

Cranky casserole. Nice analogy. Hee.

And since writing that, the phrase 'cranky casserole' has crept into my daily spoken vocab.

Hey, you know I've got all the links to this wip in my memories section, right? It's here:
http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=out_there&keyword=SN+Homophobic+WIP&filter=all

[khohen1.livejournal.com]

"Let me spread it out for you in a nutshell? Hi, I'm a professional writer!"

Heh. I love that Casey snark.

And i might have to try to incorporate Cranky Casserole into my daily vocabulary, because I'd love to see people's faces when I say that. LOL.

Yeah, that's how I found it to begin with, by going through your memories. It occurred to me very recently while trying to rec all my fave SN stories that i had memorized exactly NONE of my SN LJ stories. I don't know what that was about, but i've been going through people's memories to get them back.