Author: miasnape
Pairing: Dan/Casey
Danny's curled up around his laptop on the bed, arms wrapped around the bottom of a pillow, his head pressed into the top, glasses skewed and reflecting blue-white light from the computer screen. Casey pauses in the doorway, just looking at Danny. It's one of his favourite things to do sometimes; it never fails to fill him with a fizzy warmth. When Casey's just going about his life, being Casey, doing all of his Casey things, and he suddenly finds himself in one of these quiet, understated moments, it's like the part of him that was worrying about Charlie's very pregnant wife's cold, and the part of him that was wondering if they had enough milk for tomorrow's breakfast, and the part of him that was wondering what the hell he's going to do with all his free time now that he doesn't have a TV show to make, and the part of him that was bitching about his aching back and how he's getting so old, all quiet down and gather up somewhere in the middle of him and the only thing he's thinking is, god, I love this man, and he has to close his eyes and savour it, because he knows how precious moments like these can be.
Danny looks comfortable enough at the minute - dressed in old, worn sweats, the lines of his body soft and relaxed - but Casey knows that if he leaves him like that he'll wake up at 4.30am, cold, with a stiff neck and a big red line where his glasses have dug into his skin. Then he'll wake Casey up and complain. Quite frankly, Casey can always do without that, even if since yesterday he hasn't got places to be and sports to report on.
It's been odd, realising that what he'd set out to do at the start of his career has been accomplished now. He's been successful; he has succeeded. He's climbed every mountain, metaphorically speaking. People know Casey McCall, even people who aren't sports fans; people respect him and his opinion, and he's earned it, and he's been happy. Until now he'd been thinking he was giving all of that up; retiring from life as well as his job. It's not the first time he's been an idiot, and it won't be the last.
Casey tries not to jolt Danny out of his sleep when he sits down on the bed and eases the laptop out from under his lax fingers. When he closes it up to set it aside, the harsh light winks out and leaves the room in the dusky yellow-orange-grey light that bathes New York at night. Casey carefully slides Danny's reading glasses off his nose and sets them right on the bedside table where Danny leaves them every night. Every morning, after he brings in the paper, Danny forgets where he'd put them and spends five minutes searching in innocuous places like the top of the TV, or random shelves of the bookcase. Once he checked in the fridge. Casey hadn't asked.
With his hip pressed warm against Danny's right shin, Casey studies Dan's face, amazed as always by how distinguished Danny gets with every year that passes. He hasn't got a single grey hair on his head, but then again neither does Casey. Dana claims they've made some kind of Faustian pact. Danny never says a word when she says that, but Casey knows that of all the things in Dan's life that he'd bargain to hold on to, his hair colour doesn't even make the list.
Danny has tiny lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, lines Casey loves because it means Dan had the laughter in his life that he deserves. Casey runs his finger over the soft skin at Danny's temple before moving his hand to his shoulder and shaking gently.
"Dan? Danny, you want to get under the covers?"
Danny's eyelashes flutter for a few seconds, and then he yawns and rubs at his eyes, shifting his body slightly.
"Case?"
Casey squeezes Dan's shoulder and stands up to give him some room to move.
"You don't have to wake up all the way, just get under the covers, c'mon."
Danny sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, making it look like a colossal effort.
"You're coming to bed?"
Dan's voice is low and kind of creaky, and when he stands up Casey can't help but pull him in by his crumpled, sleep-warm t-shirt and kiss him; just a simple press of lips against lips that brings the fuzzy feeling rushing back.
"Yeah. I need to get some rest if I'm going to be spending all my time keeping up with you."
Dan's hands rest on his back, fingers pressing right where the ache was starting earlier, making Casey groan with relief. "You got that right," Dan mutters, voice still muted. "I'm a regular dynamo. When I'm, you know, actually awake."
When Casey slides into bed, Danny burrows under the blankets towards the middle and wraps his arms around him, and Casey realises that he's more than content with his life right now. He's looking forward to years of waking up with Danny, and going to bed just like this, and getting into fights over who has to get dressed and go get more milk in the morning, and not having to worry about taking time off to go fuss over their first grandchild when it's born. The best endings are always new beginnings, and Casey's going to have fun sticking around to see how this part turns out.
THE END