Title: Hideout

Author: CretKid aka Cal

Category: General, CJ/Danny (friendship)

Rating: PG-13 for use of a bad word

Spoilers: "The Portland Trip", "Let Bartlet Be Bartlet" and "In The Shadow of Two Gunmen" to be specific

Notes: Title comes from a Sarah Harmer song that's been running through my head for the last two months and I've been watching thirtysomething on Bravo every night since I've been back in the country, so I wanted to write a Danny story. Hobbes told me the absolute best line that I just had to get into a story somehow. Takes place after the events of my story, "Reason's Prisoner: Paragon of Animals".

Disclaimer: Ain't mine. 'Nuf said.

Like this? Wanna read more? Go to www.oocities.org/rdcottrell/fiction.html

Hideout

Danny Concannon bullied up to the bar and waved his hand to catch the bartender's attention. An overly large man was half seated on a stool next to him, smelling of booze and cigar smoke. Danny smiled in his direction: he had been in enough bars to know that it was easier to deflect drunk patron confrontations with a friendly flash of teeth . Danny asked for a pitcher of the night's beer special and a pitcher of water and as he waited for his order, he sensed the man would not be allayed with a nod and a grin.

"Water? Why th'ell are you gettin' water for? Wanna know why I don't drink water? Be-hic-cause fish fuck in it." The burly man tried to emphasize his point by hitting the edge of the bar with his fist. Instead he sprawled into a bar stool.

Danny stepped back as his new found philosopher friend struggled to maintain his precarious balance, not interested in finding new and certainly unwanted perfumes all over his clothes. He couldn't help but reply, "So showing my goldfish X-rated movies is a bad thing."

The bartender placed the pitchers and two glasses on the counter and motioned for one of the doormen to flag the inebriated man a taxi ride home. Danny sidestepped the mass kneeling on the floor and carried his wares to the booth in the far back corner.

"Wonderful place you frequent," CJ Cregg announced as he reclaimed his seat opposite her. "I should have gone with my first instinct and turned right around when I saw you here."

"What can I say, it's a happenin' joint." He passed a glass to CJ, remembering the almost comical display of dismay on her face when she spotted him as she walked through the door.

He had pointed to the other side of his booth. She had scowled. He had pouted. She had looked at the ceiling before she relented and joined him at the table. He had offered to take her coat. She had batted his hands away and sat down. He had offered to buy her a drink. She had insisted that if he was buying anything, it would be a reality check. He had asked again, she acquiesced, and now he was having a drink with a woman he wasn't ashamed to say he still had a teensy-weensy crush on.

"This is a hole in the wall," CJ said under her breath.

"But it's my hole in the wall. And you walked into it, so…" Danny sipped his beer and waggled his eyebrows. CJ was ignoring him and staring blankly at the glass in front of her. "You said you'd have whatever I was having," he added, tipping his glass towards her.

"Yes, I did. I want to know what I'm drinking."

"It's called beer."

CJ glowered at him. "Really."

Danny couldn't help but laugh at her expression. "You think I would serve you piss-poor beer? It's Boddington's Pub Ale, if you must know. I finally get you to go out--"

"This is not a date!"

Holding his hand up in defense, Danny continued, "I amend my statement: I finally get you to have a drink with me."

"This was in no way a planned event."

He watched as CJ fiddled with her glass. "It’s not a date."

"This is NOT a date." She tried to hide her smile as she took a sip of beer, but he spied a mischievous gleam in her eye.

A year ago Danny would have found such a conversation annoying, the paranoia as frustrating as it was funny. Now, it was just amusing. "If you haven't been listening, I am agreeing with you."

"Okay then, as long as we are in agreement that this is not a date."

"It's not a date."

CJ folded her hands before her, and as if having second thoughts grabbed one of the well-worn menus stashed between the condiments and the wall. "I came in here because I was looking for a late dinner and this place is close to my apartment. It was just a coincidence that you were here first."

"This sounds suspiciously like a rationalization to me."

"Since you were here first, I can rest, assured that you are not stalking me."

"That time in the park, that was a one time thing." Danny smirked at her raised eyebrow. "Okay, maybe not a one time thing. Besides, you have that 6-toed cat to protect you. And since you arrived here after me, I could presume that it is YOU that is stalking ME."

"When pigs fly."

Danny laughed and flagged one of the waitresses. Before the young girl arrived with pencil and pad, he turned to his companion and asked, "Do you trust me?"

"No," CJ replied sarcastically.

He turned his charm on the waitress as he plucked the menu out of CJ's hands and returned its spot behind the condiment tray. "Two club sandwiches on toast, pickle on the side, with side orders of beer battered fries. She's going to want real mayo on her sandwich even though she'll say light, and I would like a small dish of barbeque sauce on the side. We will both have small house salads: she will want raspberry vinegrette dressing on the side, and I want creamy bleu cheese dressing drenching everything."

The waitress looked to CJ to confirm the order, and Danny watched, amused, as CJ laughed and brushed the young woman away with a wave of her hand and nod of her head.

"I don't think I want to know how you know my favorite dressing or that I prefer real mayonnaise. It’s only going to confirm my suspicions."

Danny shrugged his shoulders. "There was a time inquiring minds wanted to know. Also I have a freakish mind for remembering inane trivia."

"Yeah."

There was a wistful tone to her response, but he let that slide. He liked to think that they had been good friends before the fiasco with Mandy's memo. With all the bru-ha-ha over the 25th amendment and him not taking the editor's job, it was sometimes hard to recall that there had been a time of stolen kisses and 10 minute head starts. That there had been a time before the world turned on its edge, one that now seemed on the brink of tumbling over yet again.

At least he was no longer denied visitation rights to see the goldfish: Carol the Enforcer had left the building to be replaced by Carol the Gatekeeper. The education paper stunt had not gone over well with Carol. He had hoped that whatever animosity had passed between he and CJ was now water under the bridge rather than dammed behind a flood wall.

"You're looking more rested now than the last time I saw you outside the White House," he commented. It had been the first weekend he had been back in Washington D.C. after a lengthy research trip across the country. That Friday night he had found her in her office, she having had just returned from press corralling at the President's first public address after the MS had been disclosed. She had looked tired then. The following Sunday he had found her walking a neighbor's dog in a nearby park, a not so coincident happenstance as he had led her to believe. She had invited him over for lunch; he had happily played with the dog and her mutant cat while she made tuna melts. He had cleaned up the mess made preparing lunch while she was fast asleep on the couch.

"In my defense, I was sleep deprived that week."

"Working in the White House is tantamount to sleep deprivation."

"Yes, but normally I am much better at hiding it. Someone stole my happy pills that week."

Danny laughed, knowing that there was a stash of chocolate candies in several desk drawers in her office. "You had happy pills and you didn't share with the rest of us?"

"Buy your own bag of M&M's."

There was a companionable silence until their salads arrived. CJ looked at his salad with disgust. It was exactly what he had asked for. "I think they missed a few spots on that one leaf of lettuce, Danny. You should send it back to the kitchen."

Pretending to examine the salad before him with a careful eye, Danny used his fork to move the aforementioned leaf around so that it was covered with bleu cheese dressing. "Nah, there's enough here."

"Ugh, I can feel my heart stopping just thinking about the amount of cholesterol you are about to inhale."

"And here I thought it was the company."

CJ ignored his comment and pulled the tray of condiments between their plates. "Ick, I can't watch you eat."

"Then it's a good thing that it's a small salad."

Waving her fork in the general direction of his salad, CJ asked, "How the hell can you eat that?"

"Like this." He shoveled a forkful of lettuce and bleu cheese into his mouth, managing quiet adeptly to avoid dropping any dressing on his beard or shirt front. Grinning maniacally, he waited for her reaction.

"That is the most disgusting, childish thing I have seen in a long time," she drawled, replacing the condiment tray to its rightful place at the end of the table.

"Thank you," he replied around the food in his mouth. "Are you going to eat that onion?" he asked, stabbing his fork in the direction of the onion slice she had set aside from the rest of her salad.

After an excellent parry with her own fork, she then wielded the utensil as a weapon. "Don't touch my food. This will be your first and last warning."

"Message received. No stealing food off your plate." Danny nodded enthusiastically, eliciting a laugh from his dinner sparring partner. He was glad to hear the laughter in her voice. It had been a long time since that was the case.

They ate silently for a few minutes before Danny ventured, "So, want to tell me why you've walked into my gin joint? Don’t you Senior Staff type hang out at Hannigan's on Constitution?"

"Exactly." CJ had put her salad to one side, half-finished.

Danny hoped that he hadn't just ruined her appetite. "Excuse me?"

CJ paused, a cryptic smile on her face as she stared off to one corner. "Ever feel the need to …"

Waiting for her to answer, Danny set aside his own food sensing that the discussion had just taken a turn for the serious despite her slightly bemused expression. "Need to what?"

CJ shook her head and started to pick at her salad again. "Never mind."

"No, really, what's bothering you?"

"You know, it is precisely for this reason that I am not over at Hannigan's right now," CJ replied, waving her fork at him. "I wanted to avoid Twenty Questions with Josh and Sam."

"No Toby?"

"Toby knows better."

Danny noticed that their waitress was headed their way with a serving tray. He sat up in his seat and noticed that CJ had done the same. The young woman placed their orders on the table with an efficient manner and stepped away to her next station just as quickly.

"So the guys are getting on your nerves?" Danny asked, unfolding another paper napkin to spread across his lap.

"What, are you writing for the National Inquirer now?"

"I'm not after a story, CJ," Danny said, a touch offended.

CJ immediately capitulated. "I didn't mean to imply that." She sighed, blowing air through her lips and looking anywhere but in his direction. When she finally looked him in the eye, she admitted, "I'm feeling rather twitchy lately."

"Twitchy?"

"Shut up. Do you want to hear this or not?"

Danny held his hands up. "Shutting up."

"Thank you." She paused. "I've lost my train of thought."

"Wait another ten minutes. I'm sure another will pull into the station."

CJ snapped her fingers of her right hand as she leaned back in the booth. "You know, that was almost funny."

"I'm sorry," Danny said, daring to place his hand over hers on the table. "I couldn't resist."

She didn't pull her hand away and he didn't remove his. Danny had refused to be a part of the press feeding frenzy when the depositions started. His editor agreed that his talents lay elsewhere. In the press room, he directed questions away from the ongoing independent council investigation and towards the administration's policies and the re-election campaign. There had been a number of days when one of CJ's deputies ran the press briefings.

"The food is going to get cold," she deflected.

Danny smiled and took back his hand. He took a sip of beer, maybe as a means to gather his courage. "You are more than welcome to share my hideout. This place is far enough off the beaten track."

"I may have to take you up on that offer," CJ said, rearranging the food on her plate.

Grabbing one half of his sandwich, Danny decided he was happy with whatever he could get.

END