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"Does your partner have multiple personalities?" Luci asked, blunt, not even deigning to respond to his greeting.
Javier pressed his cell to his ear, sure he must have misheard. "Ryan?"
"Do you have another partner I should know about?" she asked, dryly insinuating.
"What? It's not like you talk about Ryan; you could've called the wrong person."
"Blue eyes, square jaw, All-American good looks that he abuses with his appalling flatfoot wardrobe? You know, your work husband, with whom you spend all your time?" Luci reminded.
Javier cleared his throat. "I don't spend all my time with him."
"Uh-huh," she drawled. "Though apparently that's true since he took time out of your busy gaming schedule to go on a date with one of my set—not my doing," she said preemptively, as if he'd care.
Okay, he might care a little bit. Not that his sister should know anything about that...
"Why are we talking about this?"
"I wondered if he has some sort of mental illness. At least that might excuse the fact that I'm out a fabulous Emilio Pucci stole because he tripped over himself and doused it in red wine."
"Kevin Ryan? Tripped?" Javier rubbed his forehead. She was saying these things, but the words, they were not making sense.
Luci made a sympathetic noise; it mocked him even over the phone. "Did someone have a late night?"
"Screw you. Some people work for a living. As for Ryan's mental health, I can assure you it's on par with every other New Yorker's."
"So he could be a serial killer. What a relief."
"He's not a serial killer," Javier said, long-suffering.
"Well, you'd know," she said, pointed.
Right, there was a reason he avoided talking about this stuff with her. Girl had way too much insight.
"Is there something I can do for you?"
"Not at all," she said, mocking him with her voice again. "You know how I miss our chats."
"Not really," he muttered.
"We'll have to rectify that." There was no way that should sound ominous.
And yet...
***
"Hey, bro, didn't you have a date last night? Some fancy chick?" Javier asked Ryan, later, when Castle and Beckett were off pulling each other's pigtails for someone else's entertainment.
Ryan sipped his espresso, nodding. "Yeah, it was a bust. She dumped her frou frou chick drink in my lap. Kind of ruined the mood."
"You sure she didn't do it on purpose?"
Ryan threw a paperclip at him. "Screw you. She wasn't my type, anyway. Kept talking about how people's shoes were inspired by art or something. I was like, 'they're shoes; you walk on them.' Think I offended her religion."
"Smooth."
"You know it."
"Better be careful, man. It's a small world out there. Pretty soon you'll get yourself a reputation."
Ryan shrugged as he keyed his computer back from its nap. "Whatever, man. If a girl cares that much, then she's not worth it."
"Whatever you say."
***
Javier ambled back to his desk...
...only to find Ryan mysteriously absent and Luci, a bright flash of color in his space.
Hopefully she hadn't hurt Ryan or anything. He considered checking the men's room—or the morgue—but then Castle made his entrance, as he tended to do.
"Lucinda!" Castle called, voice lilting and indulgent, all perky and happy to see her. No one was that happy to see her. But it was Castle...
Javier missed a step as he made the obvious connection. Crap. Castle knew Luci.
Of course he did.
Javier shook his head as he trudged back to his desk and sat.
"Richard," Luci shot back, arching a perfectly-shaped brow. At least she was duly unimpressed. Damn right; the Esposito clan did not fawn over Castle.
Not like Ryan, anyway. Or Beckett, even if she tried to play it cool.
Beckett really sucked at playing it cool. Javier would tell her...but that'd ruin his fun.
"Did you come to see me? I'm touched," Castle said, touching himself.
Heh.
"Don't be; I'm not that hard-up," Luci shot back.
"But then why—" Castle looked at Javier, then at Luci, then back again. He pointed vaguely in Luci's direction. "Luci Esposito."
Javier smirked. "Gotta say, man, your deductive reasoning? Top-notch. Explains your books."
"What about my books?" Castle asked quickly, ever the insecure writer.
"Nothin.'"
Luci tapped her foot—as she tended to do when her audience didn't pay proper attention—bringing all attention to her shoes. She wore a pair of those hideously expensive, evil-deathtrap heels she liked, the kind that could probably disembowel a man. Javier wondered if the threat was intentional.
Probably.
"You do realize you've raised the bar, Rick? Now every girl will expect you to write whole books detailing all the things you want to do to them," Luci said with a wicked grin.
"Well, that's just..." Castle trailed off. "So, you came to see your brother?" he asked, changing topics awkwardly.
Luci shut him right down: "Not in the slightest."
"Hey!" Javier protested. He appreciated how she could—apparently—shove Castle off his game, but what was he, a stage prop?
Beckett walked up, pulling on her red jacket. And lookin' quite fine doing it. "Ready to go?" she asked Luci.
Luci tugged at the sleeve of the jacket, admiring. "I knew that color would look great on you. And yes, please, get me away from all this crime against good taste." She waved in their general direction.
"Hey!" Javier and Castle protested in unison.
Luci linked arms with Beckett, tossed them an arch look over her shoulder, and they sailed out, heels clicking in unison.
"While on some level that was totally emasculating...still kinda hot," Castle mused.
"Dude, that's my sister."
"Then I probably shouldn't tell you about the Yankees after-party where I met her. Man, you would not believe—"
"Castle," Javier warned, using his cop voice.
Castle stopped. "Right."
"Is she gone?" Ryan hissed, appearing in the hall. From where he was apparently hiding.
Coward.
Castle leaned over to look at Ryan, then back toward their exit. "Which one?"
Ryan took that as the all-clear and finally stowed the retreat bullshit.
"Don't tell me you're still scared of Luci," Javier said, unimpressed. Ryan stayed criminally silent. "Bro, you carry a gun. Two guns."
"Have you met Luci? She could probably kill me with a spiked heel, man."
Javier grinned. "She probably could," he agreed, kinda proud of that fact.
Ryan glared at him. "You're not helping."
"It'd be really hot?" Castle offered.
"My sister," Javier reminded.
"And still not helping," Ryan grumbled.
***
Thing was, after that Luci decided it was her duty to inform him about Ryan's love life. Or, more accurately, his pathetic attempt at a love life.
The girl was just sadistic. And had a social network that he'd kill to tap. Jesus, the things people knew about each other. The cases he could close, hell, the entertainment value alone...
Naturally, Luci just used it to harass him.
***
"He wouldn't stop talking," Luci said, incensed. The city sounded loud in the background.
"Uh-huh," he replied, distracted. How she always managed to call when he had paperwork...
Oh, wait, he always had paperwork.
"I'm not exaggerating, Javier. He tried to order for her." The scorn in her voice told him exactly what she thought about that. Good thing Ryan hadn't pulled that shit on her; she probably would've stabbed him with a fork.
Javier sighed and finally paid attention to the phone at his ear. "Why should I care about this?"
"Just thought you'd want to know about your boyfriend cheating on you, that's all," she said, breezy and yet still pointed. His sister's specialty.
"Well, until he gets better at it, I say again: I do. not. care."
And if that last part was stretching the truth a bit...well, some things you just had to live with.
***
"She wouldn't stop talking. Like, the Energizer Bunny. Not in the good way," Ryan said, holding out a hand to forestall Javier's comment.
Always had to go and ruin his fun...
"Hope she didn't try to order for you or anything," Javier said, innocent.
Ryan paused and blinked at him, but quickly moved past it. "That would've implied there was someone in the world who wasn't her. Unbelievable, man."
"Uh-huh."
***
See, it wasn't like Javier could control it. He couldn't tell his brain to stop it already, that all the wanting was pathetic, that grown men didn't act like this.
Well, he could...but it wouldn't change anything. He found that out pretty quick.
So he tried ignoring it (didn't work), dating other people (really didn't work), developing a crush on Beckett (taking his life in his hands)...but it was still kinda there.
All the damn time.
Javier simply shrugged and shoved it aside. Some shit just was, no matter what you wanted or expected or thought you should have. That was life—same old bullshit.
Besides, they had murderers to catch.
***
"He forgot his wallet," Luci proclaimed, accusatory. Like it was all Javier's fault that Ryan forgot said wallet. What did he have to do with anything?
She'd make a good prosecutor, though.
"Oh, yeah?" Javier said, noncommittal.
"You go on a date, do you forget your wallet?"
"Nah, that's where I keep my condoms."
That startled a laugh from her. "I'd call you a class-act, but I know you don't date. At all." It was kind of impressive the way she could pack meaning into two short words like that.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"I could set you up," she offered. "Ooh, there's this new editorial assistant that Gina brought to drinks last night. Adorable. Young enough to be swayed by your negligible charms."
"Don't even go there."
Luci made a frustrated noise. "I hope Ryan puts out sometime soon because you are insufferably pissy when you're not getting any."
"Must run in the family," he said sweetly.
Javier hung up just as the indignation started. He'd pay for that later...but that was later. For now, he reveled in the sweet glow of one-upping his sister.
***
"She ordered the most expensive thing on the menu! Who does that?" Ryan asked, as if he were genuinely appalled at such behavior.
Javier just rolled his eyes at him. "Fancy Manhattan girls?"
Ryan grunted. "Whatever, man. Everyone knows that's tacky."
***
"He couldn't put two sentences together," Luci complained in his ear.
"Shame you don't have that problem."
She ignored the jab. "As someone who's had the misfortune of sitting through interminable dates...that's just wrong."
"Luci is appalled," Javier intoned. "Duly noted."
"I'm serious. He's inflicting cruel and unusual punishment on unsuspecting women because—because—well, I don't know why, but you need to fix it."
"Oh, really?"
"It's criminal, Javier. I'm just asking you to do your job: fight crime."
***
"I swear, man, monosyllabic. No lie. It was the most excruciating experience of my life," Ryan said, clearly looking for sympathy.
Javier didn't fall into that trap. "Uh-huh."
"What?"
"Nothing."
Nothing except that once was unfortunate, twice was a coincidence, but three dates? Three made a pattern. Javier's spidey sense was tingling and his partner was to blame.
***
Javier had tried hope. Hope inevitably led to bitter disappointment, which led to late nights ripping into online gamers, surrounded by too much shitty Chinese food and way too much excellent Tsingtao.
Hope was bullshit.
So Javier was really kind of pissed that it'd come knocking again.
***
Ryan dragged his sorry ass over—late, pale skin, bloodshot eyes—
Only one thing made him look like that, so even if it made his jaw ache, Javier mustered up a teasing grin and dove in. "Somebody had a good night. Either that or you're vamping it up again and forgot to tell me."
Ryan dropped into his seat and shot him an offended look. "I was very clear that I wouldn't sleep with Christine."
"Valiant effort. Looks like you found another candidate," he said, gesturing at Ryan's disheveled state. "This from your date last night? Libby?" What kind of name was Libby, anyway? Christ.
"Yeah," Ryan said shortly.
"And..." Javier prompted.
"And what?"
He rolled his eyes. "Is this gonna be a new thing—you being difficult every time you get laid? 'Cause if so, we might have a problem."
Ryan grunted. "Shut up; I'm not being difficult."
Javier ticked off the list: "Mute, sulky, not dishing—what's up with that? I'm hurt over here. Starting to think you don't like me."
Javier could've winced at his own words, but he checked himself before he let anything show.
"Whatever. It's not a big deal, man. Was what it was."
This...was not the usual Kevin Ryan post-sex victory dance.
Javier set down his coffee cup, folded his hands, and looked at Ryan directly. "Okay, what happened?"
"Nothing happened! Jeez, what are you, my mother?"
"I'm gonna let that one slide 'cause you're my boy and everything. But first—" Javier pointed to himself, "detective. Next, person hiding something—" At that he pointed to Ryan, giving him an unimpressed look. "Third, total lack of mockery after you got laid and I went home and played Tekken 6 all night. To me that says something happened."
Ryan sighed and hung his head. "We went to dinner, we went to a dessert bar, we went to her place, and we fucked," Ryan said mechanically, looking up.
Javier looked at him expectantly. "And..."
"And I may shoot myself to end this misery. What do you want from me? The sex was great, but it was one night, it's over and done with."
Javier sat back, considering. "Huh."
"'Huh?' That's what you got for me? What's that about?"
"Nothing."
Ryan scrutinized him. "Oh, I see, I know what you're doing. You're pulling that reverse psychology game on me."
"No game, man. I'm just thinking, that sequence of events? Most guys would be all over that. And here you are, looking like Beckett forced you to play facial recognition database all by your lonesome again."
Ryan snorted in amusement—score one for the home team—and then sobered again. "Yeah, well. It's not all it's cracked up to be," he muttered.
"What, meaningless sex with a hottie? Sounds good to me." Okay, that was a lie, but in service of a good cause...
Ryan shrugged, then fiddled with his pen. Javier knew to wait him out—it'd be any minute now. The man was crap with awkward silences. Three, two, one...
"It just kind of...sucked," Ryan finally admitted.
God, so many jokes, so little time. So many barbed jokes, ones that would dig in just enough...
But dammit, he couldn't be that guy. No, he didn't want to be that guy. So Javier did the good-friend thing and shut the hell up.
Ryan rubbed the back of his neck. "Just—I didn't know her, knew I'd never see her again, I just...I don't know, it felt kind of pointless."
Uh...huh.
***
People weren't that complicated. Mostly, they operated out of self-preservation, a basic, almost pathological need to keep what was theirs and never lose an inch, whether it be money, pride, a relationship, or whatever. Who knew what the future held? This might be the best it'd get.
To give any of that up, even when every clue said something greater was on offer? Nah. People weren't about to put themselves out there like that. That'd open them up to too much risk.
Well, fuck that.
***
"You know, bro, I am not a stupid man."
"Okay?" Ryan asked, clearly confused at the non sequitur. "Is there a question in there? Is this one of those things where the answer is completely unrelated, like 42?"
"Man, I don't even know why I like you."
Ryan went way too still. "You like me?"
"I can't even—sabotaging dates so you could whine to me about them? Are we back in grade school?" Javier asked, frank, unflinching.
To his credit, Ryan didn't look away. The pause lasted only a moment, but it was telling. "What else was I supposed to do?"
At least he didn't deny it.
"I'll tell you. You say, 'Bro, I like guys, too.' That's all it takes." Javier shook his head. "It's a good thing you pissed off Luci, otherwise I might still be thinking the female population of Manhattan is certifiable, when the crazy one? That's all you."
Javier watched the words land, watched Ryan go utterly still while he processed, watched him swallow reflexively when he finally clued in.
"Guess I'll have to send Luci a thank you/I'm sorry card," he said, voice rough. Then he shook it off, cleared his throat. He made a little surprised noise that put all kinds of thoughts in Javier's head. "Wait, does that mean I owe her?"
"I'll think of a way you can pay off that debt."
Ryan went from concerned to calculating like that.
Oh, it was on.
Javier continued: "For starters, tonight, my place: pizza, Madden, sex. Not necessarily in that order. Good deal?"
Ryan smiled, small and hopeful. "I'll bring the booze."
***
Fin.