Casey stared at the wall. Out in the living room he could hear Danny snoring--it was a nice sound, rather comforting. He only snored when he was *really* tired--and after almost three weeks of dealing with the ratings guy's demands and Casey's simultaneous plunge into the Abyss of Relationships, the poor guy had been all but weaving as soon as the cameras went off.

Hence the reason there was currently one Dan Rydell gracing his humble couch.

Unfortunately, that didn't necessarily explain why he was wide awake, listening to his best friend snore, and clutching a pair of black satin panties in one fist.

If he tried, he could still smell her on them--dark and moist and very feminine. The panties were smooth and silky, a matte-black that absorbed light. They vanished into the shadows of his bedroom, even with his pale skin contrasting them. He was holding Dana's panties *in* *his* *hand.*

He couldn't get his mind off Danny snoring.

What the hell was she thinking, he thought in frustration. What was this supposed to do? Was she just screwing with his mind? Was she demented? Was *he* demented? Was this really just normal courtship stuff, the Dana way?

He closed his eyes, absently running his thumb over the slipperiness of the fabric in his hand. In his mind's eye he could still see Dan's expression when he told him about the whole episode. For once, Dan hadn't said a word.

He hadn't had to. That look on his face said it all. Disbelief, confusion, irony...

Pity.

Pity for the poor bastard Dana was toying with.

That look had probably hurt more than anything Dana could have done--and yet, he couldn't be mad. After all, he *was* the poor bastard Dana was toying with. It wasn't like it wasn't true.

Even if he was telling himself it wasn't.

She's not like that! he yelled in his head. Dammit, she's not like that! She's a smart, savvy, professional woman. She may not be perfect, but she's *honest.* Why is Dana doing this? What is she getting out of this?

A way out, a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered. She's scared, and she doesn't want to blow this. So she's giving you rope to hang yourself, so she knows it isn't *her* that was to blame for Gordon.

"Shut up," he grumbled. "It's not like that."

"Mmmhghtm." Danny poked his head up from behind the couch, looking bleary-eyed and half-asleep. "Wha?"

"Not you," Casey said patiently. Danny looked around, frowning in confusion. God, he was something when he looked like that--all mussed and flushed and dazed...

"Huh?"

"Never mind," he said gruffly, trying to hide his sudden reaction to Danny's appearance. "Go back to sleep," he added more gently. He really hadn't meant to wake Danny, and the exhausted lines etched around Danny's eyes were making him grit his teeth and try and stifle the urge to do tough, manly things like cuddle him close, tell him it was all going to be okay, stand over him while he slept and guard him from harm.

Houston, we have a problem, he thought with weary irony.
 

And Danny wasn't going back to sleep. Even as Casey watched, the customary animation his friend usually had was asserting itself, driving away the clumsiness of sleep. He sat up, shooting Casey a curious look, clearly visible even across two rooms. "What's going on, Case?"

"Nothing," Casey grumbled. "Just go back to sleep, would you?" Please?

Danny shrugged. "Your couch has more bad upholstery than an airliner. I think I've broken my neck." He craned his neck in an odd angle, flexed his arms, and a series of pops emerged. Casey winced.

"Jesus, Dan!"

Danny shrugged, looking innocent. Giving up the fight, Casey shuffled over in the bed until one side was plastered against the edge, rearranged the pillows, and flipped back the covers. "For god's sake, just get in," he growled.

Danny looked surprised, then smiled. "Whatever you say, Casey," he said in tones of alarming obedience. Casey groaned to himself--are you *insane*?! the voice in the back of his head screamed--but he was unable to tear his eyes off Danny, tall and lean and supple in his boxers and one of Casey's t-shirts, strolling up to his bed.

Sliding under the covers.

Turning onto his side, facing Casey, only separated by a few inches of mattress.

Slowly, calmly he leaned forward, coming up onto one arm to loom over Casey's body. Casey closed his eyes, shivering slightly. Not letting himself withdraw. Not letting himself meet what he knew was coming.

The kiss was warm, and soft, and wet--gentle, teasing open his lips, stroking his gums, sucking his tongue. Slow. Lazy. Unassuming.

Without even realizing it, the hand hanging over the side of the bed--the hand with the panties--clenched once, then spasmed and opened. The panties fell to the carpet with a whisper-soft sound, lost in the wet sounds of the kiss.

Then it was over

Danny lay back down, eyes very bright in the shadows. Mischievous.

"Night, honey," he said, the smirk emerging at the last second and ruining a very nice sultry purr. Casey caught his breath--started to yell--and stopped.

Danny was asleep.

He watched Danny sleep for a while, absentmindedly flexing his empty hand, and resolutely ignoring Dana's panties on the floor, abandoned.

He never noticed falling asleep, or the way his hand slowly crept across the bed to gently rest on Danny's outflung arm.

The End