"So you kissed her."

Casey looked up in something approaching aggravation. A variation of this question had been echoing in the space between them ever since last night, when Casey had returned to his place in front of the cameras with a different color of lipstick. Danny had barely waited until the cameras were off to corner him, and the refrain of "So you kissed her," a serenade in B-Sharp (Daniel Rydell, vocalist), was getting more than a little annoying.

And for reasons that Casey wasn't quite sure of, Danny was looking almost...desperate.

It was that hint of desperation that made him answer this time. "Yes, Danny, I kissed her," he announced, and made a show of turning back to his computer. "I also wanted to have something to say on the air tonight, because networks tend to get cranky if you have an hour of dead space on national television, so if you don't mind--?"

"Was it a real kiss?"

Well, *that* one was new. Casey looked up again, saw Danny perching on the arm of the couch, fidgeting slightly. "What?"

"Was it a real kiss? Did you really kiss her?" Danny patiently elaborated. Unhelpfully.

"Do I even want to know what you consider a 'real kiss'?" Casey inquired in a tone of morbid fascination.

"Well, you could have given her the other kind of kiss."

"That's it." Casey turned away from the computer and went over to stand in front of Danny. "Dan, what is your problem with this? Weren't you the one telling me to 'be that man'--statute of limitations, all of that? Remember that?" Danny nodded, the movement short and tense. Casey realized that he was several steps into Danny's personal space, and backed off a pace.

"Danny," he said, a little more quietly, "I thought you were okay with this. I mean, you *encouraged* me. You told me I could do it--let loose and simply *do* it. And I could."

Danny sighed. "I know," he said quietly. "I told you that you could. And you *are* that man," he added with a small smirk. Casey rolled his eyes and took a swipe at him; Dan ducked, then surged off the couch and started pacing.

"I guess..." he stopped, staring out the glass walls into the main office. "I didn't know you were going to give her a *real* kiss."

Casey let his head fall for just a moment. And here they went again. Why did he sometimes get the feeling that he was hearing something less than Danny was saying? "Danny, what is this thing about a real kiss? I kissed her, period, full stop. A kiss is a kiss."

"But was it *real*?" Danny asked insistantly, still looking fidgety and now slightly flushed, although a suspicious sparkle in his eyes showed how much he was enjoying getting a rise out of Casey. The day Dan Rydell can't enjoy baiting me, Casey thought, is the day I go looking for pods.

"Okay, define *real* here," he said, curious in spite of himself as to what Danny was going to come up with.

Danny opened his mouth, and the door opened. "Rundown in five, guys," Natalie announced briskly. She gave Casey an approving look and vanished. Casey blinked.

"What was that?"

"She's happy that you came to your senses, and you're no longer repressing your secret love for Dana," Danny informed him, trying his best to mimic Natalie's customany brisk chirp as they gathered copies of their scripts and headed to the board room. "She's told everyone in the office at least twice. You've made her day, Casey."

Casey groaned.

The rundown was the usual mix of antics and work (by them) that went on at most rundowns, taking place in the usual atmosphere of pained tolerance and sarcasm (by Dana). Danny fought like hell to switch in the order of stories the lineup between DC United winning the Open Cup and the news of Mark Maguire's unfortunate fungal infection. Casey realized that the North Stars/Penguins publicity game wasn't scheduled to run until eight, and audibly petitioned the spirits of television how he was supposed to script for a game that hadn't even happened yet.

Dana's answer to both was: Deal. And the rundown went on. No discussion of kisses, and Danny, while still looking a little white-eyed, no longer seemed interested in obsessing over it. Oddly enough, though, Casey couldn't let it slide.

"You never answered me," Casey remarked when they were comfortably ensconced once more in their office.

"Never answered you what," Danny muttered absently, busy glaring at the prominent soccer story they were leading with. The *click click* of keys being hit with force made him grin slightly. Danny'd refilled his coffee cup, and was deftly typing one-handed as he lifted it to his mouth, in an example of dexterity that would have impressed him more if he didn't know for a fact that Danny used to attract girls sometimes. He waited...

"You never told me what makes a real kiss," he said casually, and bingo! Danny choked coffee back up all over his script, his keyboard, and his favorite pair of jeans. "Casey, dammit!" he yelled in a good attempt at fury, but he wasn't really angry--in fact, he looked as though he was trying not to laugh. Casey cracked up.

"Danny, you can not bug me for six hours with one stupid question, and expect me to simply drop it," Casey said. "I want to know what you meant by a real kiss." He tried to keep his voice calm, but he heard the edge in it.

"Casey, I'm going to shoot you," Danny muttered, gingerly trying out a key on his newly-annointed keyboard. There was a brief sputtering sound, a small shower of sparks, and a puff of smoke. Danny jerked his hand back from the small flame burning away between the 'm' and 'n' key and glared at Casey. "Actually, scratch that. I'm going to tell Dana that you broke my keyboard, and let *her* shoot you."

Casey smiled, but the smile wouldn't stay. "Danny, are you saying that you think I didn't really kiss Dana? That I'm toying with her or something?" He managed to snap his mouth shut on the rest of the questions buzzing around his head, but they continued unabated in his mind.

That I'm not serious? That I'm deluding myself if I think I can handle a relationship?

That I'm lying to Dana, to you, to myself?

"No!" Danny looked up from his mangled computer, shock on his face. "No, that's not what I meant, I only meant--forget it."

"Danny." And just like that, it was over. No excuses. It wasn't a game any longer. No more witty remarks, no more banter, no more teasing. He saw the realization of that in Danny's eyes. Saw the acceptance--and fear?

"Casey--you didn't have the greatest marriage with Lisa."

"Granted." And where the hell was *this* going, Casey wondered.

"And you haven't been with many women--and when you have, it's not...serious. It's sex, like it was with Sally. Getting off. Capice?"

"Yeah," Casey said neutrally, hiding a squirm. He wasn't a prude, and god knew he and Danny had talked about much worse, but... "So?"

"Casey, you haven't really *been* with anyone, anyone you liked. You haven't *trusted* them--and no," he added before Casey could find the words to object, "you didn't trust Lisa. You wanted to, but you didn't."

Suddenly it was a crystal-clear. And this time, Casey was hearing *more* than what Danny was saying. The thing that Danny had been dancing around all afternoon.

"I haven't loved any of them, is that what you're saying?" Casey said softly. "That I've never loved them, and I don't really love Dana now. A real kiss means love, and because of that it wasn't a real kiss, is what you're saying."

It was a great thing being best friends with the same man for ten years. After a while, it was like the two of you got married, in a way--you knew all the other guy's jokes and stories, you could sing along with their favorite music, you knew just the way they liked their steak and how much liquor they could drink before being totally smashed.

So it wasn't all that surprising that finally, finally, Casey figured out what Danny meant--without him ever saying a word. He didn't even need Danny's white, wary face nodding to know he was right.

"So you're saying..." he repeated aimlessly, staring at his computer screen. The cursor blinked at him impatiently, and he entered a few more words obligingly. The Cowboys were doing well this year. Might even make the Superbowl, if they could manage to defeat the Redskins next week.

Across the room, total silence. He couldn't even hear Danny breathe.

"Well," he said finally, and observed Danny jump a little, "by your criteria, I wouldn't even know what a real kiss was like, having never had one. So it kind of precludes being able to tell you if it was one or if it wasn't."

Which was more than depressing. Mostly because it was true. Once again, Danny had looked into his heart and brought up ugly truth out to the light of day.

He hadn't loved Lisa. He hadn't loved Sally. And...he didn't love Dana. Not like that. Hadn't loved anyone.

More silence. The outside noises swelled through the hinges in the door, the muffled, cheery commotions of a typical day in the office. Sportscasters, televisions, radios, shouting voices, the *whiiiirrr* of a fax machine and the screech of a far-off printer.

The squeak of a chair.

Danny loomed in front of his desk. Casey was forced to crane his neck to see his face, noticing in passing the way the florescent lighting made his hair glow, cast shadows over his eyes.

Slowly, giving him every chance to pull away, one hand reached out for his cheek. Touched it. Cupped it.

Danny bent down, leaned his free hand on Casey's desk, and leaned in. And Casey met him, suddenly desperate to know what a real kiss was like.

He'd been wrong. There was one person he loved.

The kiss went on forever, and nowhere near long enough had passed before Danny was straightening, panting, eyes intent and bright. He looked flushed, tense--exactly the way he'd looked when Casey had been standing in front of him at the couch. Demanding was a real kiss was.

"Oh," he said intelligently.

Danny's face contorted, and for a gut-wrenching minute Casey was terrified that he was going to cry.

Then the smile broke through, a real shit-eating smirk, and Danny sauntered back to his seat, and extra slink in his walk that Casey had never seen before. He slid into his seat, and grinned widely at Casey across the room.

"*That* was a real kiss."

The End