Sports Night FIC: Possibly Maybe -- kinda (but not really) Dan/Casey -- R
Title: Possibly Maybe
Author: geekwriter
Fandom: Sports Night
Pairing: none, kind of Dan/Casey with mention of Dan/OMC
Rating: R
Category: angst, drama, humor
Spoilers: let's say the whole series, just to be safe
Summary: Danny thinks the possible is impossible and Casey tries to fit the pieces together.
Authors Notes: I wanted to write some hardcore Dan/Casey. That's not the way it turned out. I've never written Sports Night before, even though it was the first fandom I really fell in love with. Let me know what you think, k? Good and bad, since I'm still just getting a feel for the characters.
"The Knicks are trading Cooper Brody to the Trailblazers," Natalie said triumphantly as she set her clipboard down on Casey's desk.
"That's impossible," Danny said.
"Be that as it may, the Knicks are trading Cooper Brody to the Trailblazers."
"But that’s-"
"Impossible? Not so much. And do you know why?"
"Why?" he asked.
"Because the Knicks are trading Cooper Brody to the Trailblazers."
Danny leaned back in his chair and looked at Casey. "Casey, will you tell her that's impossible?"
"I don't see why it's impossible," Casey said. "Do we have confirmation, Nat?"
"Not officially, but I've got a source."
"An unreliable source," Danny said.
"A very reliable source," she said.
"Your source can't be reliable if it's a source that tells you that something impossible is going to happen."
"My source is the very definition of reliability, Danny, besides which I'm not following this whole impossibility thread of yours," Natalie said. "It's possible. People get traded. It happens. If something happens then it is, by definition, possible. And today, it just so happens that the Knicks are trading Cooper Brody to the Trailblazers."
"But that’s-"
"Impossible. Yeah, still not understanding that part."
"I'd know if Cooper Brody were getting traded to the Trailblazers."
"If Cooper Brody was getting traded to the Trailblazers," Casey said.
"I'd know if Cooper Brody was getting traded anywhere," Danny said. "But he's not, because it's impossible."
"His family lives in Oregon," Natalie said.
"Of that I'm aware, and yet-"
"He hates New York, he's homesick for his family, and when the chance came up to get traded to the Trailblazers he took it," Natalie said.
Danny scoffed. "First of all, Cooper Brody does not hate New York, and second of all he is not getting traded so you can just tell your delusional source that it's-"
"Cooper Brody is my source," Natalie said.
Danny pressed his lips together in a tight line. "Cooper Brody is your source," he said.
She nodded.
"That's impossible," he said firmly.
Natalie sighed and looked at Casey, who just shook his head and held his hands up in surrender. "I'm just here to correct grammar and sentence structure," he said. "That is my only function at this point in time."
"I ran into him at dinner," Natalie said.
"You just randomly run into professional basketball players all the time?" Danny asked with a sneer.
"In this job? Yes. But not usually at dinner. Well, not at dinner, really, on my way to dinner. That new deli down the block-"
"Is it good?" Casey asked.
"Yeah," she said, nodding. "I had a turkey sandwich and they gave me, like, an inch and a half of turkey."
"That's quality right there," Casey said. "Were the pickles crispy?"
"Very. Plus, you can choose from four different types of mustard and-"
"Natalie," Danny snapped.
"I ran into Cooper Brody on my way to the deli," she said. "He recognized me, said 'Hey, aren't you Natalie Hurley?' and I said, 'Yeah, and you're Cooper Brody,' and we started talking and he walked with me to the deli and he said that he was homesick for Oregon and that the Knicks were going to trade him to the Trailblazers."
"Why would Cooper Brody recognize you?" Danny asked.
"Because I'm a knockout that works in sports."
"You're a knockout who works in sports," Casey said.
Natalie smiled. "Thank you, Casey, that's sweet."
"And why would this supposed-Cooper Brody just decide to tell you that he's homesick and getting traded to the Blazers?" Danny asked.
"Because he looked sad, and I asked him why," Natalie said. "Never underestimate the power of feminine wiles in the arena of sports reporting."
"I learned not to long ago," Casey said.
Natalie smiled and picked her clipboard up. She turned to go, then paused at the door and turned back around. "Do you think it's weird that I just happened to run in to Cooper Brody and he just happened to tell me that he's getting traded to the Blazers?" she asked.
Casey shrugged. "Sometimes that's just how scoops happen."
Her eyes brightened. "You think this is a scoop?"
"Unless he's now loitering outside ESPN's offices waiting to tell one of their associate producers that he's being traded," Casey said, "yes, it's a scoop."
She bounced on the balls of her feet. "I can't wait to tell Jeremy I have a scoop."
"It's not a scoop," Danny said.
"Casey said it was a scoop," she said with a bit of a pout.
"Casey also seems to think that it's possible for the impossible to be possible," Danny said.
Natalie dipped her eyebrows down for a moment and Casey could see her trying to dissect Danny's last sentence. "I'm going to tell Jeremy I have a scoop," she said, finally, before turning to leave.
"That's irresponsible journalism," Danny said, turning back to his computer.
"The part where she heard something straight from the source or the part where she told us about it?" Casey asked with a smirk.
"The part where she said the Knicks were trading Cooper Brody to the Trailblazers."
"Well, considering that she heard it from-"
"She did not hear that from Cooper Brody because it's impossible," Danny snapped. "I'd know it if he were being traded."
"You do know it," Casey said. "We both know it. Natalie just told us."
"No, I mean would have already known. I would have known before Natalie came in her with her insane fantasy of a scoop."
"How?"
"How?"
"This isn't one of those days when you repeat everything I say just to drive me crazy, is it?"
"I'd know because I'd know," Dan said. "It's my job to know. I work in sports, Casey."
"I think I knew that."
"It's my job to know, and I didn't know, and I'd know if it were possible which it isn't."
"Good to know," Casey said. "You do realize you're talking like a crazy person."
Dan pushed back from his desk and left their office without saying anything. Casey was pretty sure if the door hadn't been pneumatic, Dan would have slammed it behind him.
He fiddled with the pen in his hand for a minute as he watched Dan stalk through the newsroom. He continued to stare even after Dan had turned a corner and was out of sight. Something was wrong and he had no idea what it was. He hated that feeling. Sometimes he thought he should be used to it considering how often he was only vaguely aware of things, but it still made him feel off kilter and strange.
He turned back to his computer and stared at the monitor blankly. Dan had been fine. Natalie had come in with her scoop. Dan had been upset. He arranged the pieces in his mind in all possible combinations and he felt much better when he decided that Dan was upset that Natalie had scooped him on a story. That settled, Casey returned to writing his script.
His feeling of calm began to wane when Dan missed the 6 o'clock rundown. When Dan missed the 8 o'clock rundown the off kilter feeling was back and no matter how many times he rearranged the pieces of that afternoon in his head, he couldn't find a solution. Then Dan returned minutes before the 10 o'clock rundown and the defeated set of his shoulders and the haunted look in his eyes stopped Dana cold before she even had a chance to castigate him for missing the 6 and the 8.
"Where've you been?" she asked instead, her forehead wrinkling with concern.
"I've got official confirmation on the Cooper Brody trade," Danny said, his voice hollow, and at that moment Casey understood.
"I wrote your script," Casey said softly, handing Danny a copy.
Danny just nodded and took the pages from him before he walked into the conference room and sat down.
Casey didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything.
The show went fine. It wasn't great, but it was all right. Casey knew he was carrying Dan, but it was only fair since Danny'd carried him for six months during the worst of his divorce.
Casey didn't go to bed when he got home. He took a quick shower, then got dressed again. He put on a t-shirt and jeans, even put on his shoes. He flipped through his key ring to make sure the spare key was still there. It was. He settled down in front of the TV and flipped through it mindlessly, never settling on one channel for longer than a few minutes.
When the phone rang around two-thirty he wasn't surprised. He didn't even bother looking at caller ID.
When he answered the phone, what he said was, "Want me to come over?"
"Yeah," Danny's voice was so soft Casey could barely hear him. Then, "No. No, it's late. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Case. Go back to sleep."
Casey let Danny hang up on him, then stood up and ran his hands over his face. He pulled his jacket on, made sure he had his wallet and his keys before he left.
He didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing that Danny's doorman was so used to him showing up in the middle of the night that he didn't even have to ask who he was or which apartment he was headed to.
Danny didn't answer on the first knock. He didn't answer on the second, either. Casey just hoped he hadn't hooked up his chain. He hadn't, since the door swung open easily after Casey unlocked it with his spare key.
"Danny," Casey whispered, kneeling down next to where Danny was sitting on the floor. His back was against the sofa, his knees were pulled to his chest, his arms wrapped around them tightly.
The blood dripping off Dan's fingers scared Casey for a moment until he saw that the blood was coming from Dan's knuckles, not from the inside of his wrist.
"Let me see that," he said, taking Danny's hand gently in his own. There were a few cuts on his knuckles and fingers, nothing huge. "Let's get you cleaned up, huh?" he asked softly. Danny didn't seem to want to move, though. He pressed his cheek against his knees, facing away from Casey.
"OK," Casey said softly, touching Dan's hair. "You stay there. I'm going to get what we need to clean you up."
The mirror in Dan's bathroom was shattered. There was broken glass on the counter, in the sink, and across the floor. There were blood droplets on some of the shards. Casey sighed as he stepped around the broken glass. At least he didn't have to ask Dan how he'd cut his knuckles.
He returned to the living room with towels, gauze, and antibiotic ointment. He took one of the washcloths to the kitchen and ran it under hot water then wrung it out before returning to Danny's side.
Danny let him wipe the blood away and treat the cuts with ointment. He let Casey wrap his bruised, battered knuckles in gauze and he didn't say anything. He didn't even look up, just kept his head twisted away, his cheek against his knees.
When he was finished with Danny's hand, Casey cleaned up the broken glass in the bathroom. When he got back to the living room, Danny had moved some. His forehead was against his knees, his hands over the back of his head as if to protect him from falling debris. He was breathing in that quick, desperate way that let Casey know he was trying not to cry.
Casey sat down next to him and slid his arm around Dan's shoulders. "Fuck Cooper Brody," he whispered.
"You knew?" Dan's voice was shaky, broken.
"No. Not until tonight."
"You didn't have to come over."
"Of course I did. You're my best friend."
"You don't hate me?"
"For what? For getting your heart broken?"
"No, for…for who broke it."
"No," Casey whispered. "No, I already knew that part, Danny."
Dan lifted his head up then and looked at Casey for a long moment. His eyes were dark, bloodshot, shiny with tears. "You did?"
Casey couldn't help but smile. It was a kind smile, though, and he knew Dan could tell he wasn't laughing at him. "I notice things," he said.
"No, you don't."
He shrugged. "I notice some things."
Dan looked unconvinced.
"Ben Nordby," Casey said. "That's when I noticed it."
"Ben Nordby was only last year," Danny said.
"Hey, I never said I noticed things right away. I just notice some things. Eventually."
Danny laughed softly, then tipped his head down as he started to cry again. "I'm drunk," he whispered.
"Yeah. I noticed that."
Danny sniffled.
"You smell like a brewery. Evidence so strong even I noticed it. See how that works?"
He laughed again and groaned. "I'm such an idiot."
"No."
"I am. I have never once in my entire life had a relationship that worked out."
"That makes two of us."
"You were married."
"And it didn't work out. In fact, it didn't work out in an exceptionally spectacular way."
"You've got Dana."
"And what part of that makes you think it has ever come close to working out?"
"I thought it was working out," Dan whispered.
"Between Dana and me?"
"No. With Cooper. I thought things were working out with Cooper."
Casey sighed and kissed Danny's temple just above the hairline. "You wanna talk about it?"
"No."
"OK."
"I want to talk about anything but Cooper."
"That's fine."
"There is nothing in the world that I want to talk about less than I want to talk about Cooper Brody."
"We don't have to talk about it."
"He didn't even tell me he was homesick," Danny whispered. "He didn't even tell me he didn't like New York."
"I'm sorry."
"And tonight…tonight he said he thought I deserved to be able to report it first. Can you believe that? Can you fucking believe that? He thinks that telling Natalie was some sort of favor, that I'd appreciate being able to scoop ESPN and Fox."
"He doesn't deserve you, Danny."
"He couldn't even tell me. He couldn't even tell me, Casey. He had to tell Natalie, had to sneak it into the conversation so she'd think he was doing her a favor."
"He's a pathetic loser, Danny."
"He's a basketball star and a millionaire."
"We both know that money and fame don't have anything to do with whether or not somebody's a pathetic loser."
Dan just sighed.
"And his name-Cooper Brody? Honestly. What's his middle name? Jones?"
"Harrison, actually," Danny whispered.
"Cooper Harrison Brody. That's a man in desperate need of a first name."
Danny laughed softly.
"How could you be anything but a psychopath with three last names?"
"Cooper Harrison Brody the fourth," Dan said.
"The name alone lets you know he has serious issues that obviously run in the family. You're better off without him."
Dan sighed.
"Besides, have you seen his jumper?"
"His jumper isn't bad."
"Are you insane? I have a better jump shot than Cooper Brody and I don't even get paid millions of dollars for it. Not to mention his free throw percentage."
Dan nodded. "It could be higher."
"My mother's free throw percentage is higher."
"He's got a hell of a three-point shot."
Casey scoffed. "He's a one-trick pony. Besides, who in their right mind would want to leave the Knicks for the Trailblazers?"
"His family is in Oregon."
"So? You don't see me transferring to some station in St. Paul, do you?"
"No."
"You're not going to get a job at an ABC affiliate in Connecticut just to be closer to your family, are you?"
"I don't like my family, Casey."
"Nobody likes their family. It's a rule. If people liked their families nobody would ever leave home. But we're adults, we're men, we leave home and forage for ourselves."
"I need a drink," Dan said, taking a moment to stand up.
"You're already drunk."
"Not drunk enough."
"He's leaving the Knicks, Danny. For the Trailblazers. On purpose. That right there is reason enough to write him off even if he wasn't a pathetic loser, which he is."
"No," Dan said as he headed into the kitchen. "Not nearly drunk enough."
Casey followed Dan into the kitchen and watched him pour two fingers of scotch into a glass.
"Why do you have to be drunk?" Casey asked.
"Because I'm far too sober."
"To talk about Cooper Brody?"
"To talk about Cooper Brody with you," Dan said. He took a sip of the scotch.
Casey took the glass from Dan's hand and set it in the sink. "Why? Why can't you talk to me about Cooper Brody?"
"Because you're you, Case. Because you're from Minnesota."
"They do have bisexual people in Minnesota, you know."
"Do you know any?"
Casey thought for a moment. "No."
"Do you know any bisexual people in New York?"
"Only you," Casey admitted. "You're saying I need some sort of primer? That I'm not allowed to talk to you about this until I've hung out with a variety of bisexual people for at least six months?"
"No. God. I'm just saying that this is very weird to talk about with you."
"Well, I figured it out a year ago. I've had time to adjust."
"How did you figure it out?"
"With Ben Nordby?"
"With Ben Nordby."
"You were happy and you wouldn't tell me why."
"That led you to the conclusion that I was sleeping with Ben Nordby?"
"Was the conclusion erroneous?"
"No. I was sleeping with Ben Nordby."
"Then, yes, that led me to the conclusion that you were sleeping with Ben Nordby."
Dan frowned. "That doesn't make any sense. I was happy and I wouldn't tell you why?"
"I'm sure there were other factors involved. Subtle things I wasn't aware of on a conscious level. But I saw how happy you were and you never told me why you were happy, which led me to believe that you didn't want me to know why you were happy. And you were spending a lot of time with Ben Nordby. So I put it together."
"He's a sports anchor, Case. So am I. We could have just had a lot to talk about."
"But you didn't."
"No, but he's a nice guy."
"I'm not disputing that."
"I could have been spending a lot of time with him just because I enjoyed his company."
"But you weren't."
"No, I wasn't."
"There you go, then," Casey said. "I'm not as oblivious as people think."
"You do know it didn't start with Ben Nordby."
"I didn't figure it did."
"It's been going on for a while. Me dating men, I mean."
"I kind of assumed that."
"Pretty much my whole life. Not the dating, of course. I mean, it's not like I was dating men while I was in grade school. But the liking men part. That's been pretty much continual ever since I can remember."
"I'm pretty sure that's the way sexual orientation works, Danny."
"And this doesn't freak you out?"
"No."
"Not at all?"
"No. Though, I was mad at first."
"That I liked men?"
"That you didn't tell me you liked men."
"But you're not mad now?"
"No. Not that I know what it's like from experience, but I imagine that it's a difficult thing to talk about. Once I realized that, I wasn't mad anymore. I figured you just needed time."
"Time," Danny said.
"Time to come out to me. I didn't want to rush you. I figured you'd do it when the time was right."
"Time to come out to you," Danny said.
"I thought you weren't going to do that thing where you repeat everything I say just to drive me crazy."
"I am definitely not drunk enough for this," Danny said, reaching for the glass of scotch Casey had set in the sink.
"Danny," Casey said, grabbing his arm. "You don't need that. It's just me, OK? Talk to me."
"I can't," Dan whispered.
"Why not?"
"Because if I get really drunk I can pretend it didn't happen. If I get really drunk I can pretend that my boyfriend wasn't so desperate to get away from me that he plotted to get himself traded to a team on the other side of the country. I can pretend that I didn't lay in bed with him last night completely unaware of how he really felt."
"Danny," Casey said, reaching up to touch Dan's cheek.
"I can't, Case, I can't…" His voice broke and he closed his eyes to trap in the tears.
"Come here," Casey whispered, tugging on Dan's sleeve. He pulled Dan into his arms, whispered soft assurances to him as Dan began to cry, as Dan clung to him like a man drowning. He held on to Dan-let Dan hold on to him-until finally Dan stopped crying. Then he steered Dan to his bedroom and put him to bed, took off Dan's shoes and pulled the covers up around his shoulders even though he knew Dan was sober enough to do it himself.
"Don't leave," Dan whispered as Casey turned off the light.
Casey toed off his shoes. "I'm not going anywhere," he said. He slid his jeans off and climbed into bed in his boxers and t-shirt. Dan had a five foot couch and Casey was six feet tall. "Go to sleep."
"You won't leave?"
"I'll be right here if you need me." Casey closed his eyes and sighed. He was exhausted. He could look at the clock to see how late it was, but that would entail opening his eyes and quite possibly lifting his head, neither of which was something he had any energy to do.
Author: geekwriter
Fandom: Sports Night
Pairing: none, kind of Dan/Casey with mention of Dan/OMC
Rating: R
Category: angst, drama, humor
Spoilers: let's say the whole series, just to be safe
Summary: Danny thinks the possible is impossible and Casey tries to fit the pieces together.
Authors Notes: I wanted to write some hardcore Dan/Casey. That's not the way it turned out. I've never written Sports Night before, even though it was the first fandom I really fell in love with. Let me know what you think, k? Good and bad, since I'm still just getting a feel for the characters.
"The Knicks are trading Cooper Brody to the Trailblazers," Natalie said triumphantly as she set her clipboard down on Casey's desk.
"That's impossible," Danny said.
"Be that as it may, the Knicks are trading Cooper Brody to the Trailblazers."
"But that’s-"
"Impossible? Not so much. And do you know why?"
"Why?" he asked.
"Because the Knicks are trading Cooper Brody to the Trailblazers."
Danny leaned back in his chair and looked at Casey. "Casey, will you tell her that's impossible?"
"I don't see why it's impossible," Casey said. "Do we have confirmation, Nat?"
"Not officially, but I've got a source."
"An unreliable source," Danny said.
"A very reliable source," she said.
"Your source can't be reliable if it's a source that tells you that something impossible is going to happen."
"My source is the very definition of reliability, Danny, besides which I'm not following this whole impossibility thread of yours," Natalie said. "It's possible. People get traded. It happens. If something happens then it is, by definition, possible. And today, it just so happens that the Knicks are trading Cooper Brody to the Trailblazers."
"But that’s-"
"Impossible. Yeah, still not understanding that part."
"I'd know if Cooper Brody were getting traded to the Trailblazers."
"If Cooper Brody was getting traded to the Trailblazers," Casey said.
"I'd know if Cooper Brody was getting traded anywhere," Danny said. "But he's not, because it's impossible."
"His family lives in Oregon," Natalie said.
"Of that I'm aware, and yet-"
"He hates New York, he's homesick for his family, and when the chance came up to get traded to the Trailblazers he took it," Natalie said.
Danny scoffed. "First of all, Cooper Brody does not hate New York, and second of all he is not getting traded so you can just tell your delusional source that it's-"
"Cooper Brody is my source," Natalie said.
Danny pressed his lips together in a tight line. "Cooper Brody is your source," he said.
She nodded.
"That's impossible," he said firmly.
Natalie sighed and looked at Casey, who just shook his head and held his hands up in surrender. "I'm just here to correct grammar and sentence structure," he said. "That is my only function at this point in time."
"I ran into him at dinner," Natalie said.
"You just randomly run into professional basketball players all the time?" Danny asked with a sneer.
"In this job? Yes. But not usually at dinner. Well, not at dinner, really, on my way to dinner. That new deli down the block-"
"Is it good?" Casey asked.
"Yeah," she said, nodding. "I had a turkey sandwich and they gave me, like, an inch and a half of turkey."
"That's quality right there," Casey said. "Were the pickles crispy?"
"Very. Plus, you can choose from four different types of mustard and-"
"Natalie," Danny snapped.
"I ran into Cooper Brody on my way to the deli," she said. "He recognized me, said 'Hey, aren't you Natalie Hurley?' and I said, 'Yeah, and you're Cooper Brody,' and we started talking and he walked with me to the deli and he said that he was homesick for Oregon and that the Knicks were going to trade him to the Trailblazers."
"Why would Cooper Brody recognize you?" Danny asked.
"Because I'm a knockout that works in sports."
"You're a knockout who works in sports," Casey said.
Natalie smiled. "Thank you, Casey, that's sweet."
"And why would this supposed-Cooper Brody just decide to tell you that he's homesick and getting traded to the Blazers?" Danny asked.
"Because he looked sad, and I asked him why," Natalie said. "Never underestimate the power of feminine wiles in the arena of sports reporting."
"I learned not to long ago," Casey said.
Natalie smiled and picked her clipboard up. She turned to go, then paused at the door and turned back around. "Do you think it's weird that I just happened to run in to Cooper Brody and he just happened to tell me that he's getting traded to the Blazers?" she asked.
Casey shrugged. "Sometimes that's just how scoops happen."
Her eyes brightened. "You think this is a scoop?"
"Unless he's now loitering outside ESPN's offices waiting to tell one of their associate producers that he's being traded," Casey said, "yes, it's a scoop."
She bounced on the balls of her feet. "I can't wait to tell Jeremy I have a scoop."
"It's not a scoop," Danny said.
"Casey said it was a scoop," she said with a bit of a pout.
"Casey also seems to think that it's possible for the impossible to be possible," Danny said.
Natalie dipped her eyebrows down for a moment and Casey could see her trying to dissect Danny's last sentence. "I'm going to tell Jeremy I have a scoop," she said, finally, before turning to leave.
"That's irresponsible journalism," Danny said, turning back to his computer.
"The part where she heard something straight from the source or the part where she told us about it?" Casey asked with a smirk.
"The part where she said the Knicks were trading Cooper Brody to the Trailblazers."
"Well, considering that she heard it from-"
"She did not hear that from Cooper Brody because it's impossible," Danny snapped. "I'd know it if he were being traded."
"You do know it," Casey said. "We both know it. Natalie just told us."
"No, I mean would have already known. I would have known before Natalie came in her with her insane fantasy of a scoop."
"How?"
"How?"
"This isn't one of those days when you repeat everything I say just to drive me crazy, is it?"
"I'd know because I'd know," Dan said. "It's my job to know. I work in sports, Casey."
"I think I knew that."
"It's my job to know, and I didn't know, and I'd know if it were possible which it isn't."
"Good to know," Casey said. "You do realize you're talking like a crazy person."
Dan pushed back from his desk and left their office without saying anything. Casey was pretty sure if the door hadn't been pneumatic, Dan would have slammed it behind him.
He fiddled with the pen in his hand for a minute as he watched Dan stalk through the newsroom. He continued to stare even after Dan had turned a corner and was out of sight. Something was wrong and he had no idea what it was. He hated that feeling. Sometimes he thought he should be used to it considering how often he was only vaguely aware of things, but it still made him feel off kilter and strange.
He turned back to his computer and stared at the monitor blankly. Dan had been fine. Natalie had come in with her scoop. Dan had been upset. He arranged the pieces in his mind in all possible combinations and he felt much better when he decided that Dan was upset that Natalie had scooped him on a story. That settled, Casey returned to writing his script.
His feeling of calm began to wane when Dan missed the 6 o'clock rundown. When Dan missed the 8 o'clock rundown the off kilter feeling was back and no matter how many times he rearranged the pieces of that afternoon in his head, he couldn't find a solution. Then Dan returned minutes before the 10 o'clock rundown and the defeated set of his shoulders and the haunted look in his eyes stopped Dana cold before she even had a chance to castigate him for missing the 6 and the 8.
"Where've you been?" she asked instead, her forehead wrinkling with concern.
"I've got official confirmation on the Cooper Brody trade," Danny said, his voice hollow, and at that moment Casey understood.
"I wrote your script," Casey said softly, handing Danny a copy.
Danny just nodded and took the pages from him before he walked into the conference room and sat down.
Casey didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything.
The show went fine. It wasn't great, but it was all right. Casey knew he was carrying Dan, but it was only fair since Danny'd carried him for six months during the worst of his divorce.
Casey didn't go to bed when he got home. He took a quick shower, then got dressed again. He put on a t-shirt and jeans, even put on his shoes. He flipped through his key ring to make sure the spare key was still there. It was. He settled down in front of the TV and flipped through it mindlessly, never settling on one channel for longer than a few minutes.
When the phone rang around two-thirty he wasn't surprised. He didn't even bother looking at caller ID.
When he answered the phone, what he said was, "Want me to come over?"
"Yeah," Danny's voice was so soft Casey could barely hear him. Then, "No. No, it's late. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Case. Go back to sleep."
Casey let Danny hang up on him, then stood up and ran his hands over his face. He pulled his jacket on, made sure he had his wallet and his keys before he left.
He didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing that Danny's doorman was so used to him showing up in the middle of the night that he didn't even have to ask who he was or which apartment he was headed to.
Danny didn't answer on the first knock. He didn't answer on the second, either. Casey just hoped he hadn't hooked up his chain. He hadn't, since the door swung open easily after Casey unlocked it with his spare key.
"Danny," Casey whispered, kneeling down next to where Danny was sitting on the floor. His back was against the sofa, his knees were pulled to his chest, his arms wrapped around them tightly.
The blood dripping off Dan's fingers scared Casey for a moment until he saw that the blood was coming from Dan's knuckles, not from the inside of his wrist.
"Let me see that," he said, taking Danny's hand gently in his own. There were a few cuts on his knuckles and fingers, nothing huge. "Let's get you cleaned up, huh?" he asked softly. Danny didn't seem to want to move, though. He pressed his cheek against his knees, facing away from Casey.
"OK," Casey said softly, touching Dan's hair. "You stay there. I'm going to get what we need to clean you up."
The mirror in Dan's bathroom was shattered. There was broken glass on the counter, in the sink, and across the floor. There were blood droplets on some of the shards. Casey sighed as he stepped around the broken glass. At least he didn't have to ask Dan how he'd cut his knuckles.
He returned to the living room with towels, gauze, and antibiotic ointment. He took one of the washcloths to the kitchen and ran it under hot water then wrung it out before returning to Danny's side.
Danny let him wipe the blood away and treat the cuts with ointment. He let Casey wrap his bruised, battered knuckles in gauze and he didn't say anything. He didn't even look up, just kept his head twisted away, his cheek against his knees.
When he was finished with Danny's hand, Casey cleaned up the broken glass in the bathroom. When he got back to the living room, Danny had moved some. His forehead was against his knees, his hands over the back of his head as if to protect him from falling debris. He was breathing in that quick, desperate way that let Casey know he was trying not to cry.
Casey sat down next to him and slid his arm around Dan's shoulders. "Fuck Cooper Brody," he whispered.
"You knew?" Dan's voice was shaky, broken.
"No. Not until tonight."
"You didn't have to come over."
"Of course I did. You're my best friend."
"You don't hate me?"
"For what? For getting your heart broken?"
"No, for…for who broke it."
"No," Casey whispered. "No, I already knew that part, Danny."
Dan lifted his head up then and looked at Casey for a long moment. His eyes were dark, bloodshot, shiny with tears. "You did?"
Casey couldn't help but smile. It was a kind smile, though, and he knew Dan could tell he wasn't laughing at him. "I notice things," he said.
"No, you don't."
He shrugged. "I notice some things."
Dan looked unconvinced.
"Ben Nordby," Casey said. "That's when I noticed it."
"Ben Nordby was only last year," Danny said.
"Hey, I never said I noticed things right away. I just notice some things. Eventually."
Danny laughed softly, then tipped his head down as he started to cry again. "I'm drunk," he whispered.
"Yeah. I noticed that."
Danny sniffled.
"You smell like a brewery. Evidence so strong even I noticed it. See how that works?"
He laughed again and groaned. "I'm such an idiot."
"No."
"I am. I have never once in my entire life had a relationship that worked out."
"That makes two of us."
"You were married."
"And it didn't work out. In fact, it didn't work out in an exceptionally spectacular way."
"You've got Dana."
"And what part of that makes you think it has ever come close to working out?"
"I thought it was working out," Dan whispered.
"Between Dana and me?"
"No. With Cooper. I thought things were working out with Cooper."
Casey sighed and kissed Danny's temple just above the hairline. "You wanna talk about it?"
"No."
"OK."
"I want to talk about anything but Cooper."
"That's fine."
"There is nothing in the world that I want to talk about less than I want to talk about Cooper Brody."
"We don't have to talk about it."
"He didn't even tell me he was homesick," Danny whispered. "He didn't even tell me he didn't like New York."
"I'm sorry."
"And tonight…tonight he said he thought I deserved to be able to report it first. Can you believe that? Can you fucking believe that? He thinks that telling Natalie was some sort of favor, that I'd appreciate being able to scoop ESPN and Fox."
"He doesn't deserve you, Danny."
"He couldn't even tell me. He couldn't even tell me, Casey. He had to tell Natalie, had to sneak it into the conversation so she'd think he was doing her a favor."
"He's a pathetic loser, Danny."
"He's a basketball star and a millionaire."
"We both know that money and fame don't have anything to do with whether or not somebody's a pathetic loser."
Dan just sighed.
"And his name-Cooper Brody? Honestly. What's his middle name? Jones?"
"Harrison, actually," Danny whispered.
"Cooper Harrison Brody. That's a man in desperate need of a first name."
Danny laughed softly.
"How could you be anything but a psychopath with three last names?"
"Cooper Harrison Brody the fourth," Dan said.
"The name alone lets you know he has serious issues that obviously run in the family. You're better off without him."
Dan sighed.
"Besides, have you seen his jumper?"
"His jumper isn't bad."
"Are you insane? I have a better jump shot than Cooper Brody and I don't even get paid millions of dollars for it. Not to mention his free throw percentage."
Dan nodded. "It could be higher."
"My mother's free throw percentage is higher."
"He's got a hell of a three-point shot."
Casey scoffed. "He's a one-trick pony. Besides, who in their right mind would want to leave the Knicks for the Trailblazers?"
"His family is in Oregon."
"So? You don't see me transferring to some station in St. Paul, do you?"
"No."
"You're not going to get a job at an ABC affiliate in Connecticut just to be closer to your family, are you?"
"I don't like my family, Casey."
"Nobody likes their family. It's a rule. If people liked their families nobody would ever leave home. But we're adults, we're men, we leave home and forage for ourselves."
"I need a drink," Dan said, taking a moment to stand up.
"You're already drunk."
"Not drunk enough."
"He's leaving the Knicks, Danny. For the Trailblazers. On purpose. That right there is reason enough to write him off even if he wasn't a pathetic loser, which he is."
"No," Dan said as he headed into the kitchen. "Not nearly drunk enough."
Casey followed Dan into the kitchen and watched him pour two fingers of scotch into a glass.
"Why do you have to be drunk?" Casey asked.
"Because I'm far too sober."
"To talk about Cooper Brody?"
"To talk about Cooper Brody with you," Dan said. He took a sip of the scotch.
Casey took the glass from Dan's hand and set it in the sink. "Why? Why can't you talk to me about Cooper Brody?"
"Because you're you, Case. Because you're from Minnesota."
"They do have bisexual people in Minnesota, you know."
"Do you know any?"
Casey thought for a moment. "No."
"Do you know any bisexual people in New York?"
"Only you," Casey admitted. "You're saying I need some sort of primer? That I'm not allowed to talk to you about this until I've hung out with a variety of bisexual people for at least six months?"
"No. God. I'm just saying that this is very weird to talk about with you."
"Well, I figured it out a year ago. I've had time to adjust."
"How did you figure it out?"
"With Ben Nordby?"
"With Ben Nordby."
"You were happy and you wouldn't tell me why."
"That led you to the conclusion that I was sleeping with Ben Nordby?"
"Was the conclusion erroneous?"
"No. I was sleeping with Ben Nordby."
"Then, yes, that led me to the conclusion that you were sleeping with Ben Nordby."
Dan frowned. "That doesn't make any sense. I was happy and I wouldn't tell you why?"
"I'm sure there were other factors involved. Subtle things I wasn't aware of on a conscious level. But I saw how happy you were and you never told me why you were happy, which led me to believe that you didn't want me to know why you were happy. And you were spending a lot of time with Ben Nordby. So I put it together."
"He's a sports anchor, Case. So am I. We could have just had a lot to talk about."
"But you didn't."
"No, but he's a nice guy."
"I'm not disputing that."
"I could have been spending a lot of time with him just because I enjoyed his company."
"But you weren't."
"No, I wasn't."
"There you go, then," Casey said. "I'm not as oblivious as people think."
"You do know it didn't start with Ben Nordby."
"I didn't figure it did."
"It's been going on for a while. Me dating men, I mean."
"I kind of assumed that."
"Pretty much my whole life. Not the dating, of course. I mean, it's not like I was dating men while I was in grade school. But the liking men part. That's been pretty much continual ever since I can remember."
"I'm pretty sure that's the way sexual orientation works, Danny."
"And this doesn't freak you out?"
"No."
"Not at all?"
"No. Though, I was mad at first."
"That I liked men?"
"That you didn't tell me you liked men."
"But you're not mad now?"
"No. Not that I know what it's like from experience, but I imagine that it's a difficult thing to talk about. Once I realized that, I wasn't mad anymore. I figured you just needed time."
"Time," Danny said.
"Time to come out to me. I didn't want to rush you. I figured you'd do it when the time was right."
"Time to come out to you," Danny said.
"I thought you weren't going to do that thing where you repeat everything I say just to drive me crazy."
"I am definitely not drunk enough for this," Danny said, reaching for the glass of scotch Casey had set in the sink.
"Danny," Casey said, grabbing his arm. "You don't need that. It's just me, OK? Talk to me."
"I can't," Dan whispered.
"Why not?"
"Because if I get really drunk I can pretend it didn't happen. If I get really drunk I can pretend that my boyfriend wasn't so desperate to get away from me that he plotted to get himself traded to a team on the other side of the country. I can pretend that I didn't lay in bed with him last night completely unaware of how he really felt."
"Danny," Casey said, reaching up to touch Dan's cheek.
"I can't, Case, I can't…" His voice broke and he closed his eyes to trap in the tears.
"Come here," Casey whispered, tugging on Dan's sleeve. He pulled Dan into his arms, whispered soft assurances to him as Dan began to cry, as Dan clung to him like a man drowning. He held on to Dan-let Dan hold on to him-until finally Dan stopped crying. Then he steered Dan to his bedroom and put him to bed, took off Dan's shoes and pulled the covers up around his shoulders even though he knew Dan was sober enough to do it himself.
"Don't leave," Dan whispered as Casey turned off the light.
Casey toed off his shoes. "I'm not going anywhere," he said. He slid his jeans off and climbed into bed in his boxers and t-shirt. Dan had a five foot couch and Casey was six feet tall. "Go to sleep."
"You won't leave?"
"I'll be right here if you need me." Casey closed his eyes and sighed. He was exhausted. He could look at the clock to see how late it was, but that would entail opening his eyes and quite possibly lifting his head, neither of which was something he had any energy to do.