SquidgeWorld Archive

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended.
Other Notes: This story fits into the final episodes of the series, before Dan and Casey get the ultimate news about Quo Vadimus and the fate of their show. This was inspired by and is dedicated to Anna-Maria. All mistakes are mine. I love feedback.

Dan leaned back on the couch, tucking his hands behind his head. He felt a slow smile spread across his face, and he happily let it widen. It was all good. L.A., Laker Girls, a whole new venue with Casey . . .

This was what he'd been waiting for, he realized. All these months of feeling so out of it, having to see Abby -- Sports Night didn't seem to be working for him anymore, and L.A. would be a good change. Good for both of them. And he just about had Casey convinced of that, too. Yeah, it was all good.

"Danny."

Casey's voice startled him, and he sat up too fast. "Whoa," Dan muttered, shaking his head and blinking rapidly.

"What's wrong?" Casey studied him from a chair about two feet away.

Dan gave him a funny look. Suddenly it didn't seem so good.

"I was dizzy for a second because I was so rudely awakened by Mr. Doom here. What's wrong with you?"

"Look, I --"

He shot Casey another look, sharper this time. "No."

"Yes."

"Nope, nope, nope." Dan stuck his a finger in each ear and said in a singsong voice, "Not li-sten-ing."

Casey grabbed at his hands. "What are you, five? My son doesn't even do that anymore. Just listen for a second."

"No," Dan repeated indignantly. "You are not about to tell me you won't come to L.A. with me."

"I think I am."

"Well, you're mistaken." Dan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "And it's about time you realize you're not always --"

Casey cut him off before he could finish the jibe. "Danny, I'm not going to L.A. with you."

Dan squinted his eyes and smacked his forehead before waving his hand in the air, a classic 'You've Gone Mental' sign.

"Are you deaf? You must be, since you're obviously not listening to me. I just told you that you're not telling me that."

"But I am," Casey said softly.

"No," Dan said again. Casey opened his mouth, and Dan quickly spoke up. "No! Come on, did you forget about, about the Laker Girls, and the sun, and the beach, and, you know, the La--"

"Dan! Enough with the Laker Girls." Now Casey was the one rubbing his head. Dan's look of shock made him choke out a short laugh.

"There can never be enough said about the beautiful and talented Laker Girls of Los Angeles. I'm starting to doubt you're even a member of the male species."

Casey stood up and then leaned down, gesturing in Dan's face. "First of all, gender differences don't constitute new species. Second of all, how many times do I have to tell you, you're the woman?"

Dan smirked. "Gee, there isn't a third of all? Starting to skimp a little on those anal retentive lists, don't you think?"

Casey straightened. "Shut up."

Dan burst into laughter for a fraction of a second, just long enough for the sudden absence of its sound to be very, very loud. "Only if you shut up about not going with me."

Casey turned and walked over to the desk. He leaned against it and took a breath deep enough that Houdini would have been jealous.

"Runnin' a little low on oxygen there, partner?"

"Dan, really, I need you just to be quiet for a minute." Casey kept facing away from him.

"Oh, is that what you need? That would make this easier for you? Well, gee, I think right now I'm in the mood to babble for hours, sorry. Let's see, I can talk about soccer -- you know that I can complain about that forever and a day. I can say some more about the Laker Girls. Or maybe . . ."

Casey didn't have to tell him to shut up this time, didn't have to say a word. One look from Casey's pained eyes, and Dan's mouth snapped shut like he still had braces and tight little rubber bands inside it. Casey sat on the edge of the desk and studied the floor.

"I can't do it."

"Why?" Dan swallowed. "Why not, I mean."

"For one thing, there's Charlie. You know that."

Dan nodded, but Casey made no indication as to whether he noticed or not.

"I can't uproot him, and I can't leave him for that long. It just wouldn't work. Too many . . . complications."

"Complications," Dan affirmed gravely, as if that actually answered anything. He suppressed the questions, the anger, everything.

"And there's another problem."

"Lisa."

"No."

Dan lifted an eyebrow.

"Well, yes, but that wasn't what I was going to say."

"Okay. So say it."

Casey's whole body seemed to tighten into a giant flinch that wouldn't let go once it had him. "There isn't enough . . . we didn't . . . I couldn't . . ."

Dan launched himself off the couch, and then walked over to put his hands on Casey's arms, above the elbows crossed so resolutely over his chest. When Dan said Casey's name, it was a plea. The muscles under Dan's fingers loosened just the slightest bit, but Casey's eyes were still focused on some invisible phenomenon occurring on the carpet at their feet.

"I can't afford it, Danny. I'm sorry."

Dan's face twisted. "What?"

"The money, I don't have it. I've been putting everything extra into this special Future Fund thing for Charlie, and I can't take that away from him now, I . . ." His voice trailed off again.

"You . . ." Dan echoed. "You are a coward."

Casey jerked in his grasp. "A coward? What the hell?"

"Yeah, you heard me. A coward. Why didn't you tell me that sooner? You know I'll help you out with money. It just means one less charitable donation this time around. I mean, I think the Minnesota Young Chess Players Association can go without my few extra dollars this year."

Casey smiled involuntarily at that, then frowned even more deeply. His chin dropped nearly all the way to his chest.

"But that's just it. I don't want you to give me money. You may think you can handle it now, but you really can't. And I don't want you to have to give up anything up for me, okay? This is just the way it has to be."

Dan stepped back and let his hands fall. Casey's gaze shifted to his clenching fists.

"No, actually, this isn't the way it has to be. This is the way you think it's supposed to be, and you've decided you're not going to consider anything else. But, Case, you can't act like this is all your decision."

Casey finally looked Dan in the eyes, and whatever he'd been trying to hide had been replaced with utter disbelief. "Excuse me? When did a decision about my life become anyone's but mine to make?"

"When you started fucking with my plans, Casey McCall."

Casey's eyes widened at the volume of Dan's voice, and he dodged over to close the transparent door. Dan didn't miss a beat.

"The second you developed this martyr complex. The moment you became my partner."

"Jesus, Danny." Casey sagged against the desk again and closed his eyes.

"Did I say I was finished?" Dan snapped, pacing rapidly.

"There's more?" Casey asked in a tired voice.

"Yes, indeed, there is. You know why? I'll tell you why, my friend -- it's because your life isn't just yours, or yours and your son's; it's yours and mine because we're partners and we are friends, and that's supposed to mean something. Casey, it's got to -- it has to mean something. And I'd rather give up money than give up you." Dan ran out of air and ran out of things to say at the same time.

The room was silent for a long time, and eventually Casey looked up. Dan stood still, arms hanging at his sides. He stared at Casey with a look that he hoped expressed just how much desperation he felt. It must have, because Casey's face crumpled. Dan stumbled backward until the couch hit the back of his knees and knocked him onto his butt on the cushions. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

Casey went to the couch and sat gingerly at the opposite end. "Is there still more?" he asked softly.

Dan bit into the inside of his cheek, willing a few tears back to where they belonged. That was, of course, anywhere but on his cheeks, which was exactly where they insisted on going. He made damn well sure his voice was steady, though.

"There was. I think I just forgot it."

"Ah" was Casey's sagacious answer.

"Case, please. I need you there with me." He knew his words were muffled but didn't care.

"I need you, too, Danny. And our friendship does mean something. It means so much to me; you know that. We just can't do this right now."

"When, then? If not now, it's never going to happen. We both know that."

Casey put a hand on his back, applying a soft pressure and a lot of heat. "I'm sorry."

He shuddered and then scrubbed his hands over his face and leaned back, making Casey twist his arm to keep touching his back. Dan cleared his throat.

"I don't think 'sorry' quite does it here. If you need me and I need you, what the hell are we going to do? How are we going to do this, do anything?"

"Danny." Casey's hand slid up to cup the back of his neck. "You don't need me nearly as much as you think you do."

"Uh-huh --"

Casey held up the other hand to silence him.

"No, you don't. And we'll do it because we have to. We don't have any other options right now. I wish to God we did, but we don't. Barring some kind of network miracle, this is . . ."

"This is it."

"Yeah." Casey kneaded his fingers into Dan's neck, and Dan pushed into the pressure slightly.

"Yeah. Except you're still wrong."

Casey let out a sound that mixed a sigh with Dan's name, and shook his head.

"No, see, Case, because this isn't it. I won't let it be, and I can't believe you will either. Okay, so there are a lot of issues to work out; I still really want you to come." He continued before Casey could say anything else. "But I know you're not going to agree to that right now. So here's what we're going to do. When or if the network goes under and the show folds, I'll go to L.A. and you'll stay here. But I'm coming back to visit you every weekend."

Casey snorted loudly and bit his lip, but his eyes sparkled a little.

Dan shrugged, a grin edging onto his face. "All right, so my social life won't be the greatest, and the Laker Girls might have to take some numbers, but I'm not giving up on this. I'm going to come see you, and I'm going to bother you until you leave with me on the next flight out. And then maybe, I might possibly share some Laker Girls with you."

"Never going to happen," Casey said flippantly.

Dan stood up slowly, hesitant to move away from Casey's hand. "You're right. I won't share. You'll have to find your own among the college cheerleaders or something."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Yeah, yeah. So you say now, McCall. So you say now."

Casey got up then, too, but they simply stood there, facing each other.

"So I say always, Rydell."

"We'll see."

"But you're going to come all the way here to visit me. It's a long way, you know."

"I know. " The hope in the almost-questions made Dan smile all the way for the first time since Casey had come to talk to him. Casey smiled back in understanding and headed for the door. "Hey, Case?"

He turned and looked at Dan again, still edging backward. "Yeah?"

"You're wrong about something else. I really do need you that much."

Casey's smile softened. "Yeah, I know." He faced forward again and walked out the door.

Or, he would have done so, if the door hadn't still been closed. Instead, he yelped just loud enough to cover the audible *smack* of his forehead against the glass. He rubbed his forehead and tossed a dour look over his shoulder. "You couldn't have reminded me about the door being closed?"

Dan snickered. "You deserved it."

He stepped up and pulled the door open, narrowly avoiding Casey's foot. Then he leaned forward and pressed a lightning-quick kiss to the injured forehead. "Does that make it all better?"

Casey made a face as he headed out of the room. "Oh, I get it now. You need me that much so you have someone to be the butt of your funny jokes. Ha, ha."

"Well, that, too."

Dan started laughing, and Casey couldn't help but join him. They kept laughing all the way to the studio.

Yeah. It wasn't quite all good, but it was okay and getting better.