Title: Protective Lions, Tylenol and Hot Water Bottles

Author: CretKid aka Cal

Category: CJ/Danny

Rating: G-PG

Summary: This is a sequel of sorts to "After the Last Pitch is Thrown"

Author's Notes: Goes with the After Universe. You can find all the stories at www.oocities.org/rdcottrell/fiction.html. Thanks to my co-conspirators, you know who you are.

"Protective Lions, Tylenol and Hot Water Bottles"

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Danny didn’t want to abuse his key privileges: he had been given the key months ago to feed the cat and water the plants while CJ was away with her parents. She had never asked for it back, so it was still on his key ring, in a prominent place next to his own apartment key. But he did say he would come over when he got in and Josh said she had gone home early because she wasn't feeling well. If she was sleeping, he didn't want to wake her by using the doorbell or the knocker. He just wanted to check on her, make sure she was okay, ease his own mind about how exhausted she sounded the last few times he had spoken to her on the phone.

He had been in California for nearly 2 weeks, researching another article on the Reagan Administration. His editor's wife had been good friends with the former First Lady and Danny had been granted an interview as long as certain subjects were not touched: her husband's Alzheimers' and the recent biography tops on that list.

But the interviews had been finished, the research concluded and he decided to head home a little early. He held the key in his hand, debated using it now or just calling on her in the morning. Josh had said she seemed fine, that she was just a little tired. They were all tired, with the possible vote to repeal the estate tax and now the veto, the upcoming State Dinner and re-election on the minds of everyone.

Holding on to his resolve, he inserted the key and turned the knob.

The door opened easily enough and as he suspected the lion at the gate was protecting the lair. The cat -- Danny couldn't say his name without cracking up-- was leaning against the doorframe as Danny tried to step inside, blocking the entrance. The Maine Coon mix certainly did have the appearance of a lion: the tuft of hair around his neck and the excessively large frame only added to the similarity. The cat was easily 25 pounds or more, protective to a fault and let everyone within hearing distance know that this was his home and he made the rules.

There was a distinctive 'no trespassing' expression on the cat's face.

"You know, cat," Danny said calmly, "I do have a hall pass."

"Danny?"

He pushed the cat off the door frame and stepped in. The front of the apartment was dark. He hit the hallway light. CJ winced as it was turned on and Danny hissed in sympathy.

"You look like hell," he said candidly. Fly-away strands of hair defied gravity in a few spots, which she tried to tame with a swipe of her hand. She had changed into a pair of drawstring pajama pants and a large t-shirt. It pained him to see her move so slowly. He pulled her into a hug. "I tried to call you at work and somehow I got a hold of Josh. He said you went home with a headache."

CJ groaned into his shoulder. Danny was surprised by the amount of weight she lent against him. He held on tightly for fear she might collapse if he didn't.

"What are you doing here?" She lifted her head but didn’t move out of his arms. "I thought your flight got in tomorrow morning."

"I arranged to take an earlier flight. I came straight from the airport." He led her into the living room. From the tossed cushions and piles of blankets, he assumed she had been asleep on the couch before he arrived.

"What time it is?" she asked, collapsing on the couch. The cat bound onto her lap and she 'oofed' before trying to push him off. "Not now, Leo."

Danny picked up the cat and dumped him on the floor. The cat, not fond of losing his proprietary place, jumped up again but sprawled along the back of the couch, well within protective distance of his keeper.

"It's about 10 pm. Have you eaten anything today?"

Pulling blankets and pillows from behind her back, CJ settled against the cushions. Her head listed to port. "I had a late lunch. I wasn't hungry when I got home."

Danny turned on the other table side lamp. The room was brighter, warmer. He sat down beside her and took her hand, ignoring the growl from the back of the couch. "You should eat something."

She looked drained, spent. Josh had said she was tired, but that description barely scratched the surface. He hoped she didn’t have to go in that weekend to work. If he had anything to say about it, she was going to sleep the weekend away.

"Have you taken anything for your headache?" he asked, brushing the hair off her forehead.

"Yeah, I took something before I left the office." She leaned into his hand and sighed. "I'm glad you're here."

Danny smiled. It was rare that this independent woman let her hair and her walls down in front of him. "When did you leave the office?" he asked softly, daring to hold her face in his hand.

"Two hours ago."

"Okay, I think you can take something more now. Is this the same headache you had the other day when I called?"

She nodded weakly. "I think I slept on my neck wrong the other night. I've had a headache ever since."

"Well, we'll see if we can do something about that as well. I'm going to go in the kitchen and make us some dinner."

She started to sit forward. "Danny, you don't have to."

He put his hand on her shoulder. "No, sit back. I'll forage for something."

"You’re going to need help finding things." She pushed herself off the couch. "Not that there's anything in there to find."

"I could call Josh," Danny joked, taking her hand and helping her stand. "What the hell kind of bet did you make that he had to clean your apartment if he lost?"

"Who had the better SAT math score. I beat him by 20 points."

"For that he had to clean your entire apartment?" He made sure to sit her down at the breakfast bar.

"It escalated to cleaning the apartment. It started out as a coffee run. Josh has only himself to blame."

Danny rummaged through the cupboards until he found the medicine chest. "Do you have a hot water bottle?"

"A hot water bottle?" CJ laughed. "What century do you live in?"

Standing, he put his hands on his hips. "My mother always gave me a hot water bottle when I wasn't feeling well."

"I'm sorry, no, I don’t have a hot water bottle. If I did, it wouldn't last ten minutes with Leo in the house."

Danny laughed. "I just can't get used to that name. I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting to see--"

"Yeah, but I've had that cat longer than I've been with this Administration, so the name stays."

At the mention of his name, said cat strolled into the kitchen. He stretched and placed his forepaws on the edge of the breakfast bar. CJ patted his paws and told him to get down. The cat wrapped himself around the legs of the bar stool she sat on.

Danny found a small hand towel, wet it under the tap, wrung it out and stuck it in the microwave. He found a bottle of Tylenol next to the sink and handed it to CJ with a glass of water. When the microwave dinged, he pulled out the hot towel and handed it to her.

"Drape that over your neck. Now, let's see what's in your pantry."

"Nothing but bread and cat food," CJ replied. She took two Tylenol and rested her head on her forearm.

Danny opened the fridge. "It can't be that bad." He surveyed the lack of stock there. "Or maybe it can."

He checked the contents of the freezer and found a half-full bag of mixed frozen vegetables as well as several unidentifiable ice-bound packages. In the cupboards over the stove, he found a box of Minute Rice, several jars of tomato sauce and canned chicken. He pulled down the chicken to read the label, eyeing it suspiciously.

"I thought I had picked up tuna fish. Didn't realize my mistake until I brought them home," CJ explained.

"This will work," Danny said. "Can opener, frying pan, sauce pan and spices?"

CJ pointed at various drawers and cupboards as she replied, "Silverware drawer next to the sink, cupboards below the toaster and rack above the stove."

"Dinner in ten minutes," Danny said, turning the spices in the rack so he could read the labels. "Fifteen tops."

"What are you making?"

He started water boiling for the rice and opened the cans of chicken. "Well, it's sort of cashew chicken only without the cashews and without the sauce. Never underestimate the imaginative powers of a poor journalism student on a limited budget. Do you have any red pepper?"

"I should warn you, those spices likely came with the apartment," CJ said over the roar of chicken sizzling in the frying pan. "There may be some soy sauce in the fridge. Look in the egg tray."

Danny did just that. In the egg tray were not eggs, but several single-serving packets of fast food soy sauce, hot sauce, ketchup, mustard and relish. He picked up several of them and waved them demonstratively in her direction. "These are not a food group."

"Be happy that I got rid of the fast food containers the other day. They were starting to colonize."

He fished the packages of soy sauce out of the pile and closed the fridge door. "Someone needs to teach you about proper nutrition, young lady."

"If my neck didn't hurt right now, you would be in some serious peril for making a comment like that," CJ said into her elbow. "By the way, what is it with you and the nicknames?"

"What?"

"Sunshine, Morning Glory. What else did you call me on the phone the other day? Fishgirl."

"You call me 'Fishboy' and I can't reciprocate?" He added black pepper, paprika, seasoned salt and a dash of curry powder to the mix of chicken and soy sauce.

"I've also called you Nimrod."

"Well, there is that." Danny shrugged his shoulders. "Just thought I'd try them out. None of them seemed to fit."

"Thank god."

"What, you don't like nicknames? I hear you bestowing them on everyone else."

"I've been called plenty of nicknames. 'CJ's not enough for you?"

Danny turned the heat to low under the frying pan and checked the status of the boiling water. He poured in 2 cups of the minute rice, covered the sauce pan and turned off the heat on that burner. "What kind of nicknames? Maybe I'll like one of those better."

CJ looked up from the crook of her arm and replied, "No way. I am not subjecting myself to ridicule and your obsessive need for another nickname for me."

"Come on," Danny cajoled. "I'm making you dinner."

"You can't use any of them. You have to make up your own."

"Fine. You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

"I can’t believe I'm doing this." CJ propped herself up on the counter, one hand tapping out the counter as she recited. "Stretch, Slim, Too-Tall, Tall Girl -- that one was the President's, by the way, for the first 3 months of the campaign because he couldn't remember my name-- Red, Ceej, Bean -- as in Bean Pole--, Lerch, and George."

"George?"

"As in 'which way did he go'. It was a grad school thing. Apparently I was my advisor's keeper."

Danny dumped the contents of the frozen mixed vegetables bag on top of the chicken and covered the pan to let them thaw out. The rice had another couple of minutes to go. "An eclectic mix there, CJ."

"Fess up. Your turn."

Washing his hands quickly and draping the towel he used to dry them over his shoulder, he walked over to the breakfast bar and leaned against it, forearms crossed and on the countertop. "There's the obvious Red. We have that in common. Beet, Poindexter, Nimrod -- you're not the first to call me that, by the way, -- DJ, Carrot, the regular melange of red-head nicknames. But I will say," he said in as seductive voice he could muster as he leaned in close, "Fishboy is my favorite."

CJ cocked an eyebrow. "DJ?"

Leaning back, the moment that wasn't really there lost, he replied, "Daniel Junior, though technically, I'm not named after my father. We have different middle names."

She shook her head slightly, wincing, and readjusted the hot wrap around her neck. "CJ and DJ. That's just too weird."

"Tell me about it. My father still calls me that. When I was there last winter, I kept turning around expecting to see you behind me."

He turned with a flourish and checked on the food stuffs. The rice was done, the vegetables cooked enough so that they were crisp and not soggy, the chicken browned and the kettle whistling for tea. He clapped his hands together. "Plates?"

"Cupboard above the toaster," CJ replied.

"Do you have an decaf tea? Preferably chamomile because you need to sleep."

Biting her tongue to keep back the smart-ass comment, she said instead, "Cupboard next to the stove."

Danny set out plates, coffee mugs, forks and paper napkins. He plopped tea bags into the respective cups and poured the hot water from the kettle over them. Then he dished out a healthy serving of rice onto each plate and covered that with the chicken and vegetable medley.

"Do want salt?" he asked, grabbing the shaker from its place next to the stove.

"No, but if you’re thinking of using it, you may want to have your blood pressure checked."

Danny shook a bit of salt over his food. "I'm fit as a fiddle and my blood pressure is fine, thank you very much."

He waited for her to taste his culinary fast-on-the-draw masterpiece before digging into his own plate. She chewed slowly, swallowed, and nodded. "This isn't bad. I am suitably impressed."

They ate dinner at a leisurely pace. He reheated the hot wrap for her once during the meal and moved to replace it. The edge of her t-shirt was damp and the area where the wrap fell red with warmth. Dark tendrils of dampened hair curled at the base of her neck. He brushed them aside and draped the hot cloth over her neck and exposed shoulder.

After putting the dishes, pots and pans in the sink to soak, Danny moved her back to the couch and sat down beside her. The cat, not to be outdone, prowled at the base of the couch until he found an opening. Leo jumped up on her lap and proceeded to hang his head over CJ's shoulder as if he were a baby being held. He stared at Danny with a predatory glare and made himself at home.

"If you ask me, that's why you've got neck problems," Danny said, daring to scratch and pet the feline near his neck. "That 25 pound necklace has got to put a strain on those muscles."

"He's just looking for attention because you're here," CJ replied, displacing the cat to her lap. She rolled her neck to try and loosen the taut muscles there.

"I'm just jealous 'cause he gets to be held that way," Danny whined playfully, taking her hand and giving it a good squeeze.

"You don't quite fit in my lap like he does," CJ replied with a smile.

"We could try and find out."

CJ thwapped him on the shoulder, then leaned her head on the abused spot. "Maybe another time."

Danny sighed. "Yeah." He drew circles on the back of her hand with his forefinger.

"Danny, I really do have a headache," CJ whispered.

He sighed again, "I know. Want a back rub?"

Slowly turning her stiff neck, CJ raised her hand to his cheek. "You're a good man Charlie Brown."

"You going to let me kick that football anytime soon Lucy?" he joked, leaning in for a quick kiss.

Flashing a big smile, CJ quipped, "Doing anything on Monday night?"

end