Work Text:
Monday, or "Give a little and get not much in return."
"Okay, so everyone knows what they're doing?"
Dana set down her pen and peered at her staff over the top of her glasses as they muttered a series of half-hearted 'yeahs' and 'I guess so's'.
"Come on people. Show a little more enthusiasm, please!"
"It's Monday, Dana," Casey pointed out. "I'm pretty sure there's some kind of by-law about showing too much enthusiasm on a Monday."
"Or at least a very sound unwritten rule," Dan chipped in.
"Is this going to take long?" Dana enquired.
"Is what going to take long?" Dan asked.
"This typical exchange of witty repartee? Because I really do have a lot to do today. If it's all the same to you..."
Casey exchanged a look with Dan and held up his hands in defeat as various people tried not to snicker.
Dana smiled. "Good. Okay, work everybody."
"Back at six," Natalie added as the production staff began to file out of the conference room.
"Dan, can I see you for a moment," Dana asked as Dan and Casey followed the others.
"Sure." Dan turned around and perched on the edge of the table. "What's up Dana?"
Dana waited until the room cleared before speaking. Dan noticed that she was wearing her 'I hate to have to tell you this face' and it made him, quite understandably, nervous.
"About your interview with Nathan Johanssen..."
"Hey, look Dana," Dan cut in, immediately jumping to the defensive, "I cleared those questions with legal and they said as long as I never actually mentioned anyone's name..."
"It's been cancelled," Dana said bluntly before Dan could get into full rant mode.
"It's been what?"
"His people called me this morning," Dana said testily and Dan felt his heart sink. "They're going to ESPN."
"ESPN?"
"Yes, ESPEN."
"They're really going to ESPEN?"
"I can't believe it either."
"They're going to ESPN after we spent over a month setting this thing up?" Dan felt like kicking something. "Do they know how much ass I had to lick to get this thing organised?"
"I had to lick just as much ass as you did, Danny," Dana reminded him. "But they're going to ESPN and there's nothing we can do about it."
"Oh yes there is." Dan jumped to his feet and headed toward the newsroom.
"Danny!"
Dana's sharp tone made him stop in his tracks.
"We had an exclusive, Dana. They gave their word."
"Which they never put in writing, so we've got nothing to fall back on."
"I knew that lawyer was playing a little too hard to get." Dan scowled at nothing in particular and wanted to kick something so badly he could almost feel the steam coming out of his ears. "They played us. They played us like fucking fools, Dana. How much is ESPN offering them?"
"I don't know. More than us, I'd say. But it happens all the time Danny and you knowit. We do it to them; they do it to us. It's all give and take."
"This sucks."
"It's certainly not the most auspicious start to the week."
"Does Isaac know?"
"I'm about to go and tell him."
Dan shook his head. "It was my thing. I'll tell him."
"You sure?"
Dan sigh, defeated. "Yeah, I'll do it. This sucks, Dana," he said again.
"I couldn't agree with you more."
~*~*~
When Dan entered his office twenty minutes later, it was with the posture of a man with the entire weight of the world on his shoulders.
"Hey."
"Hey, how does this sound?" Casey asked without looking up from what he was typing. "'Mendez grabbed the ball and with the power of a steam engine..."
Dan flopped onto the couch and grimaced at his partner's appalling choice of metaphor.
"'Steam engine', Casey?"
He watched Casey consider his prose for a moment and nearly smiled when he started to hit delete. "Yeah, it sucks, doesn't it?"
"Uhuh."
Dan leaned against the cushions of the couch and closed his eyes, feeling the beginnings of a headache pulse in his temple. Was it too late to call in sick?
Isaac had been gruffly sympathetic to his plight over the Johanssen thing but he'd been there and done that many times in the past and they both knew that sometimes it was the way things went. And it wasn't like it was the first time Dan had had an important interview fall through on him. For some reason though, this one seemed to leave a nastier than usual taste in his mouth.
"So, Johanssen bailed on you, eh?" Casey said after a few minutes.
"Yeah," Dan mumbled.
"And you know how I know?"
"Because Dana told you?"
"Well yes, there's that. Plus the fact that you're sulking on the couch like a five year-old."
"I am not sulking."
"Yes, you are."
"I am not. And even if I were, I think I've got a right to sulk when Mr Nathan 'Ooo, look at me score a record number of touchdowns and gee, watch me screw the team that made more money for me than the national debt' Johanssen has decided I'm not worthy of his attention."
"I wouldn't worry about it, Danny," Casey said, offhand.
"No?"
"Nah. The guy's obviously a moron. I mean how many 'errs', 'ums' and 'I dunnos' can one person include in a sentence? Better off without him, I say."
Dan looked at his partner uncertainly. "Erm, Casey, weren't you the one who told me about what great interviews he gives?"
"Yeah, but that was before he dumped my partner for ESPN," Casey replied with quiet affection.
"Sweet talker."
Casey winked at him. "That's what I'm here for, my friend."
Dan almost winked back then remembered he was supposed to be sulking.
"You know what bites the most about this, Casey?"
"What's that, Dan?"
"These guys, these football guys, they think they're so great because they can catch a ball and run a few hundred yards without dropping it. What they don't realize is that they'd be nothing if it weren't for guys like us. Absolutely nothing. We're the ones who put them in the spotlight. The least they could do is answer a couple of questions every now and then."
"Sounds perfectly reasonable to me."
"See, me too. And it's not that unreasonable to think that if I indirectly helped him to get a multi-million dollar contract to talk about foot powder, Nathan Johanssen would be grateful enough not to jerk me around."
"One would think so, yes."
"But no."
"No?"
"Yes, no."
"Okay."
Casey typed a few words, apparently engrossed in whatever was happening in the wide world of sports.
"Hey, Dan," he said after a while.
"Yeah?"
"Screw him."
Dan glanced at his partner. "Screw him?"
"Yeah. Screw him. We don't need guys like that."
"We don't?"
"Nah. We're doing just fine without them."
"We are?"
"Absolutely."
"Yeah. I guess so."
"No guess about it."
"Yeah, I guess."
Dan crossed his arms over his chest and considered the view from the window for a while, his eyes tracking the progress of a bank of clouds across the pale November sky.
"Hey, Casey?"
"Yeah?"
"Despite the fact that we both know we don't need guys like Nathan Johanssen..."
"No we don't."
"...and we're probably a lot better off without them..."
"Indeed we are."
"...doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose of being a sports journalist? If we don't need these guys, who needs us?"
Casey thought about it for a moment.
"There seems to be a flaw in my theory."
"Indeed there is."
"I'll have to think about it some more."
"Let me know when you're done thinking," Dan said and closed his eyes again.
~*~*~
Tuesday or "Ooops, I did it again."
"Jesus, Danny. Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you, I swear to god."
"Hey, I said I was sorry. Jeez, like this has never happened to you?"
"I can almost guarantee that this has never happened to me."
"I tripped. It happens. Deal with it."
Casey looked up from dabbing at the peach Snapple soaking his taupe suit jacket with a towel and glared at his partner.
"I'd rather not have to deal with this, if it's all the same to you."
Dan rolled his eyes and got to work on the stain marring his own charcoal suit.
The Snapple had seemed like a good idea when he took the elevator down ten floors to the one and only vending machine in the whole building that had Snapple. It wasn't caffeinated, so it wouldn't make him too jittery during the broadcast. And it wasn't carbonated, so he wouldn't run the risk of burping on air. And he liked peach Snapple. It was both tasty and refreshing and despite what Natalie told him, not at all girly. He just hadn't factored in stumbling over a tiny hitch in the carpet as he walked back into the office and spilling it over both Casey and himself.
"It's not like I can predict when these things are gonna happen, Casey."
"Just a little more care, that's all I ask Danny."
Dan said nothing and dabbed at his pants a bit more, even though it made no difference whatsoever.
"Hey guys, five minutes."
Natalie blew into the office like a mini tornado and skidded to a halt when she saw the less than pristine anchors.
"Jeez, what happened?"
"Danny and a bottle of peach Snapple happened," Casey muttered darkly.
Dan declined to comment.
"Well, whatever happened," Natalie said with a frown. "You can't go on air like that."
She darted over to the phone and dialed a number.
"Hey Mon, we've got a bit of a wardrobe crisis going on here. Dan and Casey need new suits." Natalie paused and laughed a little at whatever Monica said in reply. "Yeah, I know. I think it's mostly Dan, though."
"Hey!" Dan protested.
Natalie shushed him with a wave of her hand. "I know it's short notice, but whatever you can find...Yeah, I know...Okay, thanks, Monica."
Natalie set the phone down and looked at the anchors with a slightly manic smile playing on her lips. Dan and Casey exchanged a worried look.
"Okay, Monica can fix you up with new jackets, but you're going to have to do the show in your shorts."
"No. No way. Absolutely no way." Casey protested, looking horrified. "This is not my fault, Natalie, and if you're going to punish someone, punish Dan. Leave me out of this."
"Hey, thanks for the support, friend," Dan sneered.
"No one is being punished," Natalie said like she was talking to a pair of four year-olds. "But Monica doesn't have time to organize new jackets and pants so you're just gonna have to put up with it."
"What wrong with these pants?" Casey asked, gesturing at the pants he was already wearing. "No one can see them behind the desk. So what if they don't match the jackets?"
"They've got Snapple on them and they have to go to the cleaners." Natalie checked her watch. "Look guys, I'd love to stand around and argue the point, or not, but we've got three minutes, so move your asses!"
~*~*~
"I'm cold," Casey whined during the commercial break.
"It's like, four hundred degrees under the lights, Casey," Dan replied without looking at him. "How can you be cold?"
"There's a draft," Casey pouted, "and I'm sitting here in my underwear. That's how I can be cold. Why couldn't they bring my jeans with them when they brought up the jackets, that's what I want to know."
"Casey," Dana said sternly into his earpiece. "Monica had less then five minutes to find jackets that would go with your shirts and ties so that you didn't look like you'd been dressed by Goodwill. I don't think your jeans even crossed her mind."
"Then send someone to get them now, because I can't tell you how hard it is to be witty and erudite when there's a breeze blowing up my..."
"Casey!" Dana shrieked into the PA, making both anchors wince. "Never, ever say anything like that near a live microphone, ever. Jesus, haven't you learned anything in fifteen years of broadcast journalism?"
Casey grimaced and looked slightly abashed.
"Well I'm fine," Dan said airily. "No breeze ruffling my shorts."
"Okay, we're swapping," Casey said suddenly. "Dana, Danny and I are going to swap sides."
"I'm not swapping."
"Oh yes you are," Casey retorted. "This is your fault so the least you could do is give me your seat."
"I don't think so."
"No one is swapping anything," Dana snapped irritably. "You'll screw up the graphics. Casey Randolph McCall, stay right where you are," she added severely when Casey started to rise from his seat.
Casey sat down hard and shot the control room a dark look.
"Sixty seconds back," Dave informed everyone prosaically.
"None of this would have happened if it wasn't for you and your damn peach Snapple," Casey muttered at Dan.
"Well pardon me for being thirsty," Dan muttered back.
"Don't get any ideas about getting any tonight."
"Wouldn't want anything from you anyway, thank you Mr Snappypants."
Both men stopped abruptly when they heard sniggering through their earpieces.
"Guys," Dana said between guffaws. "It never ceases to amaze me..."
"Thirty seconds back," Dave intoned and Dana, Kim and Natalie's laughter was still echoing in their ears as Dan and Casey launched into the tennis highlights.
~*~*~
Wednesday or "What the @#%$ is going on?"
Dan stood in the doorway of his office, his dry cleaning draped over his right arm and a Starbucks take-out tray containing three Grande Mocha Lattes in his left hand and a decidedly puzzled expression on his face.
"Why does the world hate me?"
Casey and Jeremy looked up in unison from where they were working at the table.
"I'm sure the world doesn't hate you, Danny," Casey said placidly. "It might get a little miffed with you every now and then, but hate is a very strong word."
"Oh, I'm sure it hates me."
Dan moved further into the office, flinging the dry cleaning over the back of the couch and dumping the coffees on the table, right on top of the papers Casey and Jeremy had been working on.
"Hey!" Jeremy exclaimed as a little latte foam spurted out through the drinking hole of one of the cups and splotched onto his note pad.
"The world hates me," Dan said again and for emphasis pulled two parking tickets out of his pocket and threw them down on the table. "One for the dry cleaners and one for Starbucks."
Casey and Jeremy looked at the tickets then returned their gaze toward Dan. It was obvious they were both trying not to laugh.
"The world certainly doesn't like you very much at the moment, Danny," Casey finally said.
Dan threw himself down on the couch in an overly dramatic gesture.
"I don't believe this happening. What did I ever do to deserve such unwarranted and inhumane treatment?"
"Now I think you're just being silly," Casey said. "So you got a couple of parking tickets? Happens all the time."
"On top of being dumped by Nathan Johanssen," Dan reminded him. "And let's not forget the Great Snapple Fiasco of 2003."
"It would appear that you are having something of a bad week," Casey admitted.
"This doesn't happen to you," Dan muttered, hiding his face under a cushion.
"Well, Casey doesn't have a car," Jeremy pointed out.
"There is that," Casey said.
"Then what would you know?" Dan snapped, glaring at his partner from under the cushion.
"Hey Dan, if it makes you feel any better," Jeremy said brightly. "Once, when I was in college, I got a parking ticket everyday for three days."
"You're right," Dan responded curtly, burying his face under the cushion again. "It doesn't help."
"Well this might," Jeremy continued. "According to tradition, these things always come in threes. You've had your three disasters for the week, ergo no more disasters."
Dan just hmmed a bit and left the cushion where it was.
"Why is Danny hiding under a cushion?" Natalie's voice asked a few moments later.
"He has this idea that if he can't see the world, the world can't bite him in the ass," Casey answered drolly.
Dan didn't laugh.
"That's just stupid," Natalie replied. Dan felt a tugging at his foot. "Danny, there'll be no hiding from Dana if you don't get your script finished."
Dan waggled his hand vaguely in her direction. "Yeah, whatever."
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
Dan hmmed again and decided he was starting to like it under the cushion.
"Is that mocha latte?" he heard Natalie ask in a tone of voice that said she knew damn well it was.
"Maybe," Jeremy replied tentatively.
Dan smiled against the cushion. He could picture the terror in his friends' eyes and if he wasn't so busy being pissed-off with the world he'd sit up to watch the fun.
"Jeremy," Natalie's voice was as sweet as pie and just dripped with venom. "Why didn't you ask me if I wanted one when you sent out for mocha lattes?"
"Well...errm...Dan was going out anyway," Jeremy stammered, "and he asked us if we wanted anything..."
"Leave me out of this," Dan called out.
"Yeah, and could we get back to work, like, sometime this century?" Casey demanded irritably.
"Sweetie," Dan heard Natalie say, "why don't we go somewhere and talk about what happens to people who don't ask their girlfriends if they want mocha lattes when they send out for them."
"But Natalie, I..."
"Sweetie..."
There was the brief sound of scuffling and whispered words and Dan could have sworn he heard Casey snigger.
"I'm just stepping out for a moment. I might be some time," was the last thing Dan heard Jeremy say before two sets of footsteps scuttled out of the office.
"What d'you bet their making out on the control desk in half an hour?" Casey asked.
Dan let go a short laugh, feeling his breath warm and humid against his cheek, and his nose twitched like he was about to sneeze. He hoped he wasn't about to sneeze. Sneezing wouldn't be very pleasant while he was still hiding under the cushion.
Fingers moved through his hair.
"You okay?"
Dan finally pushed the cushion aside and peered at his partner who had settled into the armchair next to the couch and was gently stroking his head.
"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm just having a hell of a week."
"It happens."
"I guess."
Casey smacked him playfully on the shoulder. "Well, as long as you've snapped out of it by Sunday."
"Why? What's happening on Sunday?"
Casey's eyes grew wide as a look of sheer incredulity crossed his face.
"Oh my god!"
"What, Casey? What?"
Casey began to laugh. "I can't believe it. I really can not believe it..."
"What the fuck are you talking about, Casey?"
The glint in Casey's eyes could only be described as malevolent.
"What's the one particular day in November you always badger me to remember, Dan? That one particular day in November that has you pouting like a girl if I forget?"
Dan was about to ask again when it finally dawned on him. Oh shit, he forgot.
He never forgot. You could almost guarantee that Casey would forget because Casey never remembered dates. But Dan never forgot. He made a point of not forgetting just so he could hold it over Casey.
How was he ever going to live this down?
Casey grinned. It wasn't a nice expression. "You forgot, didn't you?"
"I, um..."
The grin turned into a snigger. "I can't believe you forgot."
"I'm having a rough week," Dan bleated pathetically. "Nathan Johanssen dumped me."
Casey shook his head, apparently trying for seriousness but failing spectacularly as his mouth continued to quirk at the corners.
"You forgot our anniversary? I can't believe it, Danny, after all this time..."
Dan grabbed the cushion and pressed it against his face again. Perhaps if he left it there long enough he'd pass out from lack of oxygen and he'd forget this week had ever happened.
~*~*~
Thursday or "Well, that's okay..."
Nothing much happened on Thursday.
Dan was nice and polite to everyone he encountered, avoided things like ladders and open bottles of Snapple and got the subway to work. Casey continued to tease him about forgetting their anniversary but that he could handle, given all the time he had devoted to pestering Casey about forgetting over the years.
By the middle of the afternoon, when no one had dumped him, he hadn't spilled anything on anyone and he didn't have to hand over the remainder of his pay cheque to the City of New York, he was feeling positively giddy. The show went off like fireworks that night and after it wrapped they all went to Anthony's where Dan bought everyone a round of drinks and toasted the number three.
~*~*~
Friday or "What goes around..."
"No way, dude."
"I'm telling you..."
"And I'm refusing to believe you."
"You should listen to me."
"Why?"
"Because I know what I'm talking about and you don't."
Dan stopped in mid-stride and looked at Jeremy, aghast. "You're questioning my knowledge of baseball?"
Jeremy carefully adjusted his glasses. "Well, not so much questioning..."
Dan started walking swiftly through the studio toward the buffet table again. "You're questioning."
Jeremy had to scuttle a little to keep up. "I'm not questioning, per se..."
Dan kept walking. "You're questioning."
"I'm merely pointing out that your knowledge might not be as well-rounded as you think it is."
"My knowledge of baseball is as well-rounded as you'll find anywhere in the world, my friend."
"See, here's the thing," Jeremy continued doggedly. "Not everyone in the world follows baseball. As sacrilegious as it sounds, outside of the USA, Canada and Japan, baseball hardly registers. Soccer, on the other hand..."
"Oh please." They arrived at the buffet table and Dan grabbed a couple of slices of bread and a plate. "Soccer is..."
"...probably the most popular sport in the world," Jeremy finished as he to grabbed a plate and began to assemble his own sandwich.
"It's the bane of my existence," Dan muttered as he piled turkey, lettuce and tomato on one slice of bread and spread the other with mayonnaise.
"Be that as it may," Jeremy said, spearing slices of pastrami with a fork. "That many people can't all be wrong."
"Can we not talk about this anymore?" Dan said, finishing his sandwich and going over to the ice chest to grab a bottle of water. "I was in a good mood until you came along and dissed my knowledge of baseball and started ranting about soccer."
"I wasn't ranting. I was merely entertainingg a differing opinion to yours."
Dan spun around and pointed his bottle of water at Jeremy. "You, my friend, were ranting."
"Discussing, maybe."
Dan took a step backwards. "Ranting."
"Conferring, perchance."
Dan began to back away. "Ranting."
Jeremy offered him an indulgent smile. "Okay Dan, whatever you say...Hey Dan, watch out for the..." was the last thing Dan heard before he tripped over a cable and banged his head as he landed.
~*~*~
"Is he okay?"
"Danny, talk to us."
"Are you hurt?"
"He's not talking."
"Danny, where does it hurt?"
"Danny, say something."
"Maybe he's got concussion."
"He hasn't broken anything, has he?"
"He hit his head pretty hard. Maybe he can't talk."
"Danny, speak, damn it!"
"If you'd all give the man a chance to breathe," Isaac's voice cut in over everyone elses.
Flat on his back, his vision swimming in odd directions, Dan was vaguely aware of the crowd clustered around him parting like some biblical wave and Isaac's face wavering into his line of sight.
"Daniel?"
Dan blinked owlishly at him. His head hurt and the whole world was spinning out of control. The last thing he wanted to do was talk.
"Hey Isaac," he croaked.
"Are you alright, son?"
"He hit his head, Isaac," Dana said over his shoulder.
"How did this happen?" Isaac asked.
"He tripped," Jeremy said from the sidelines. "Over a cable."
"Are you okay?" Isaac asked again.
"I'd be a lot better if someone helped me off the floor," Dan replied weakly.
Elliot and Dave reached out and helped him to his feet and Dan thanked god they didn't let go when the whole world did a one-eighty on him as he stood up.
With various members of the news team and production crew clustered around him like hens in a hen house, Dan was helped across the studio and into editing where Isaac directed him toward the couch.
"Here, put this on your head," Natalie said, coming up with a plastic bag full of ice.
Dan took the ice and carefully applied it to the back of his head, hissing when it encountered the tender flesh.
"Maybe you should get that checked out by a doctor," Natalie suggested.
"'M fine," he mumbled and tried to pretend the faces clustered around him weren't swimming in odd directions. Dan leaned back with a sigh and closed his eyes. "I just bumped my head. It's no big."
"Daniel..." Isaac said, low and stern.
"You really should get that checked out," Dana added.
"I'm alright," Dan said, maybe a little too shortly. "Just let me rest here for a moment, okay?"
He thought Isaac and Dana would put up more of an argument but, after a moment, he heard Isaac grunt his consent.
"Why don't we all go back to work," Isaac said instead.
"Yeah, come on people," Dana said. "We've got a show to do."
There was a general mumbling and shuffling of feet and after a few moments Dan peeled open his eyes to find only Isaac and Dana left in the room with him.
"I really am having a bad week."
Isaac nodded and smiled a little. "So it would seem."
Dana sat down beside him. "D'you want me to get you anything, Danny?"
"Nah, I'm..."
His words were cut off as Casey suddenly burst through the door.
"I just heard," Casey said breathlessly, dropping into a crouch next to him on the couch. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine Casey. Just a little bump."
"What happened?"
"He tripped over a cabel and bumped his head," Dana said.
Casey looked at Dan again. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Dan ground out. He was quickly growing very tired of that question.
Casey moved to sit beside Dan on the couch, unconsciously bumping Dana out of the way as he did. "Let me see that,"
He gently pushed the ice pack aside and inspected the bump, making Dan wince as his fingers probed the swollen flesh.
"Hey, easy," Dan protested as Casey continued his inspection.
"You should see a doctor," Casey finally said.
"Already suggested that," Isaac responded dryly.
Casey fixed him with a stern eye. "Danny..."
"Jeez, I just bumped my head a little. Not like it hasn't happened before."
"Danny..."
"I'm fine, Casey."
Casey rolled his eyes and sat back, defeated.
Isaac tugged at Dana's arm. "Come on Dana. Let's get back to work."
But Dana wasn't budging.
"I just want to make sure Dan's okay."
"I'm okay!"
Isaac tugged at her arm again. "Come on Dana, I want to talk to you."
"What about?"
"I'll know when we get to my office," Isaac said and half dragged Dana out of the editing room.
Dan waited until the door was shut before he leaned back and closed his eyes again as he felt Casey's hand rub the back of his neck, kneading the tense muscles and forcing him to relax. Dan sagged against his partner a little.
"There ought to be a law against it."
"A law against what?"
"Weeks like this. What on earth have I done to the universe to piss it off this badly?"
Casey chuckled.
"You find my pain amusing?" Dan demanded, dislodging Casey's hand as he rounded on him.
Casey shook his head but continued to smile. "I'm sorry, I'm just...I mean you have to admit..."
The chuckle turned into a laugh and pretty soon Dan had joined in as well.
"I guess it is kinda...you know," he admitted.
"I most certainly is, my friend."
Casey's hand landed on Dan's thigh, squeezing it gently as he caught his partner's gaze.
"You're really okay?"
Dan nodded sincerely. "I'll live to fight another day, sir."
"Well, good," Casey said and pulled Dan into a rough embrace, squeezing him tightly.
"What's this for?" Dan gasped.
"Because you've had a crappy week and I thought you'd need a hug."
Dan couldn't argue with that.
~*~*~
Saturday or "No rest for the not so wicked."
Pulled out of a very nice dream, thank you very much, Dan sighed and rolled over as the bed shifted and bounced a little. Instinctively he reached out to the person sleeping next to him, only to find himself unaccountably alone.
"Casey?"
Somewhere in the apartment a toilet flushed and the next thing he knew Casey was standing over him, shaking him by the shoulder.
"Danny, get up. We're gonna be late."
Dan groaned and burrowed further into the covers. He didn't want to get up. His head ached, his throat felt dry and scratchy and he felt like he'd been run over by a steamroller. Getting out of bed was the last thing he wanted to do.
"Whatimeizit?"
"It's late. Power went out. Get up."
"Huh?"
Dan opened one eye and peered at the alarm clock. It was flashing seven twenty-seven but the amount of light coming through the blinds told him it was definitely later than that. The power must have gone out then come on again some time during the night, knocking out the alarm.
"What time is it?" he asked again, more clearly this time.
"Nearly eleven-thirty."
"Fuck, we're gonna be late."
Casey unceremoniously pulled the covers off him.
"No shit, Sherlock."
~*~*~
By skipping breakfast and having the quickest of quick showers, they managed to make it in to work by twelve forty-five. But even though they'd called ahead to let Dana know they were running late, it didn't stop her from ripping them both a new one when they finally staggered out of the elevator.
"You know, I could have done without that," Dan said weakly after Dana had finished with them and was striding purposefully toward graphics to put the fear of god into some other poor unfortunate.
"She could have at least waited until I'd had coffee and a bagel," Casey added indignantly.
Dan took in a deep, calming breath and found himself coughing a little as he exhaled.
"You okay?" Casey asked for what seemed like the umpteenth time that week.
Dan cleared his throat and wished the scratchiness would go away. "Yeah. Coffee. Now."
Only instead of heading for conference room where there was always a fresh pot, he instinctively started toward his office.
Casey grabbed him by the shoulders.
"Whoa there, Slugger, wrong direction."
Dan dutifully turned around. "Mm, got no brain these days."
"You can say that again."
"Shut up, Casey."
~*~*~
Dan took a sip of water and cleared his throat.
"So, Alyson, do you know who I'm interviewing next week?" he heard Casey ask as Alyson fussed with his partner's hair.
"No," Alyson replied flatly.
"Lennox Lewis," Casey responded proudly with an extravagant roll of the tongue.
"Really."
"Yes indeedy."
Dan flashed Casey a look.
"'Indeedy'? Tell me, Casey, are you by some chance channelling Opie Taylor?"
"Danny..."
Whatever Casey was about to say was cut short by Alyson ordering him to hold still. He glowered at Dan who had to fight the irrational urge to stick his tongue out at him.
"Dan, are you okay?" Natalie asked him through his earpiece.
"Would people stop asking me if I'm okay?" he snapped. "You have no idea how tired I am of that question."
"You look pale," Natalie persisted.
"It's November. Everyone looks pale."
Dan was reluctant to admit that he actually felt pale. In fact he'd been feeling off-colour all day. The scratchy throat he'd woken up with had grown steadily worse and no matter how many aspirin he took, his headache refused to abate. Even simple things like opening a can of coke or walking between his office and editing sapped more of his energy than they rightly should have.
Dan hated being sick. It made him tetchy and not very pleasant to be around, especially when all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and not move for the next century. He'd been snappy and short-tempered all day, but he was feeling like such a piece of crap that he simply couldn't help it.
Adding to his woes was the increasing suspicion that Casey was panning something for Sunday. Something for their anniversary. Because Casey McCall never let things just 'happen'. They had to be thought about, planned and organised. Since it seemed he'd gone out of his way to remember, it only stood to reason that he'd be planning something.
"I'm okay, Nat, stop fussing," he said now and ignored Casey's concerned glance as Alyson finally moved away. "I'm just having a bad week."
"Ninety seconds to VTR, two minutes live," Dave intoned.
Casey glanced at him again.
"Don't say it," Dan warned.
"I wasn't going to."
"I can hear you thinking, Casey; I know exactly what you were going to say and I will not be having it."
"Sixty seconds live," Dave informed everyone.
"Danny..." Casey began.
"Shut up, Casey. Please, just shut up 'cause I'm really not in the mood," Dan snapped then instantly regretted it. Casey didn't deserve the brunt of his bad mood. He'd been there for him that entire shitty week and now he was repaying him with ingratitude and a spectacular display of ill temper.
Casey pursed his lips, his expression dark.
"Okay. We'll talk later," he said tightly.
"Casey, I..."
"Later, Dan."
Then Dave was counting them in and Casey slid smoothly into the intro while Dan kept his eyes firmly on the teleprompter and hoped fervently that Casey wouldn't hold it against him for too long.
~*~*~
Sunday or "At last, a dragon."
Dan didn't want to wake up. It was his day off, he was snug inside his bed and nothing or no one was going to ruin this day for him. Except for the fact that his throat felt like sandpaper, he desperately needed to pee and there was the possibility that there might be a burglar in his apartment because he could hear someone moving about the kitchen.
He'd snuck off home by himself the night before, bypassing the usual post-show drinks at Anthony's and not even pausing to say goodbye to Casey. His head hurt, he knew for a fact that he was coming down with something and all he wanted to do was crawl in to bed and not emerge until at least nine o'clock Monday morning.
Pots and pans rattled and a cupboard door banged shut. Dan just burrowed further into the bedclothes, wished the burglar well when fencing his stuff and closed his eyes.
He must have dozed off because when he opened his eyes again Casey was standing over the bed, looking down at him like he'd never seen a man sleep before. Dan blinked his eyes a few times and couldn't work out if it were a dream or some bizarre layer of reality.
"Is this the part where you tell me we're running late and then drag me out of bed by the ankles?" he managed to croak.
Casey sat on the edge of the bed. "You sound like shit."
"Hmm, love you too, Casey."
Casey reached out and touched his face, resting the back of his hand against his forehead. Casey's hand felt was cool and soothing and Dan leaned into the touch, savouring it.
"You're warm," Casey murmured.
"I don't feel well," Dan admitted.
Casey's hand moved to cup Dan's face, his thumb sweeping over the curve of his cheek. "Maybe you should stay in bed today."
That'd be nice, Dan thought, except for the fact that his bladder was about burst.
He reluctantly pulled away from Casey and threw back the covers.
"Nature calls."
He wobbled to his feet and gratefully grabbed Casey's hand when he reached out to steady him.
"Thanks, man."
Casey squeezed his fingers. "No problem."
Dan let go of his hand and blinked at him.
"Is this part of your plan?"
"What plan?"
"Your plan for today."
Casey looked puzzled. "There's no plan, Danny. Why would there be a plan?"
"'Cause today's Sunday and it's, like, that Sunday, and you always plan things, Casey. You like to plan so I just thought you'd have, you know, planned something. That's all."
Casey shook his head and looked genuinely confused. "I think you're running a bit of a fever there, Danny."
Dan took a deep breath, frowned and then sneezed.
"I need to pee," he announced, grabbed his robe and shuffled off toward the bathroom.
~*~*~
When Dan ambled into the kitchen a few minutes later with a box of tissues tucked under his arm, Casey was sitting at the table drinking a cup of coffee and flicking through the Sunday papers.
Dan waited until he had got his own cup of coffee, a glass of water and some Alka Seltzer and had taken a seat opposite his partner before he spoke. He dropped the Alka Seltzer into the water and watched them fizz.
"So, no plan?" he rasped. Damn but talking hurt.
Casey set down his cup and looked at Dan sheepishly.
"Well..."
Dan slapped his hand down on the table and winced when the noise jarred against his headache. "Aha, I knew it!"
"No, really, you don't."
"You had a plan, Casey. An honest to god plan."
"Maybe a little plan."
"A plan, Casey,"
"More like an idea, really."
"So sayeth Casey 'I plan therefore I am' McCall."
Casey just chuckled and took another sip of his coffee.
"Well, whatever I had planned seems to have gone out the window. I really don't think you should be going anywhere."
Dan was about to protest when he was overtaken by a dramatic sneeze, followed closely by another, then another. Casey raised his eyebrows in a 'see what I mean?' gesture and reached for the tissues.
"Maybe we should stay home," Dan conceded, accepting the wad of tissues Casey handed him.
"That might not necessarily be a bad thing," Casey said as his feet tangled with Dan's under the table. He'd taken his shoes off, Dan noticed, shivering slightly as Casey's sock-clad foot rubbed against his calf. He caught Casey's eye and smiled at his brazenly wanton gaze. Then ruined the moment completely by sneezing again.
"Sorry," Dan muttered through a face full of tissues.
Casey stood up and held out his hand.
"Come on. Back to bed with you."
"I don't wanna go back to bed, mom," Dan whined, but took Casey's hand anyway and let him pull him to his feet.
He allowed Casey to lead him back into the bedroom, making no objection when Casey pulled him out of his robe and tucked him into bed like he was five years old. However he certainly wasn't expecting Casey to quickly strip down to his shorts and undershirt and to climb in with him.
"What's this?"
Casey took him into his arms and kissed him lightly. "Just 'cause we're not going out, doesn't mean we can't make our own fun."
"Aren't you afraid of catching something?"
Casey kissed him again and smiled. "It's a chance I'm willing to take."
Dan kissed him roughly at that, pushing Casey onto his back and diving in with loving enthusiasm, stopping only when he had to sneeze again.
"Charming," Casey said dryly, pulling back a little.
"Typical," Dan muttered and buried his head in Casey's shoulder. "I've had a terrible week, Casey."
Casey tightened his arms around him. "Indeed you have."
"But today's turning out to be okay."
"It's Sunday. It's a whole new week, Danny."
Dan burrowed into Casey's embrace, suddenly very tired, even though he'd only just woken up. "Happy anniversary, Casey."
Casey stroked his hair, feathering soft kisses against his forehead. "You too, Danny."
"I think this is the best plan you've ever had, Casey."
"I'm glad you approve."
"Mmm, me too."
FIN