Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: oh, they're not mine.

Chapter Fifty-two: Moving things along


The medics had called in for an unscheduled visit with Danny and Reuben had stepped outside the room to give him some privacy. He sat down on one of the chairs and wished for the umpteenth time that he could light up. Surely hospitals could make allowances.

Danny. He loved that boy so goddamned much. Matt's boy and he could see Matt in him and so much more. If things had gone differently, the Ocean Wave casino would have been handed down from father to son and Danny would have been in line to be King of Vegas. Reuben had no trouble imagining Danny ruling that town.

Vegas needed more men like Danny. Old-school manners, intelligence, charisma and charm. Reuben thought about the Strip and the sharks in suits circling, nostrils twitching for blood, waiting to pick off any owner unfortunate enough to fall overboard. Reuben shivered. There weren't too many of the right kind of guys left.

The door to Danny's room half-opened and Reuben sat up in his chair and then sat back down as the door closed again. Goddamned medics. He glared yet again at the "No smoking" sign. Was it too much to ask for that there was some goddamned news?

Reuben let out a sigh and told himself things had improved. Danny was on the mend and that was good. There was colour back in his cheeks and he was speaking – kind of - and the dark days of nearly death looked to be over. And that meant thinking about next steps.

Carter had found a house to rent not too far away from the hospital and was busy fitting out the bottom floor so that when Danny did get the OK to leave, everything would be waiting for him.

Reuben wondered who would be waiting. He would, naturally, but Carter and Scott had other lives and could only be visitors. And Rusty seemed to be notable by his absence. Funny. Reuben had thought better of him than that. Feelings of vague disappointment and anger drifted through him. Still… Wasn't like Rusty owed Danny any loyalty.

That left…well, that left Rick. Who had already started ducking and diving out of visiting. Reuben's mouth twisted. Reuben had seen the look in Rick's eyes when he'd floated the idea of Danny not making a full recovery. Rick consistently failed to live up to the sort of partner Reuben felt Danny should have. Someone watching his back, who was going to put Danny first... Someone with honour.

He thought about Danny, grief-stricken, confronting Willy Bank over the death of his father. He thought about Danny bringing Teresa, this girl from nowhere, to meet him. He thought about Danny ending up in jail because of him and winced as he always did.

Danny deserved the best. And Reuben seriously doubted Rick was anywhere close but with Danny getting better…Rick would be there. Rick would make sure he was there to be the best friend that Danny thought he was.

The door opened again and interrupted his train of thought.

"Mr Tishkoff? Would you like to come in?"


This was Thursday. The auction was on Saturday. And after the last time, there was a definite edge in the atmosphere behind the scenes at Larner's. It was there in every fierce glare Constantine shot across the dealing floor. It was there in every nervous look that darted across Alex's face. Checks and re-checks on the inventory and on the clients because nothing was going to go wrong this time. Nothing was allowed to go wrong this time.

James's workload had stepped up a gear and he wasn't in a position to argue the point.

"Sorry," Jennie said, sounding as if she meant it and handing over another sheaf of paperwork.

"No problem," James smiled and Rusty found himself wishing for Rumpelstiltskin's phone number.


The doctors had stood over him and talked over him and changed their minds over him. Danny wasn't sure why. Three days ago and they'd told him he had to wait till Monday. Now, they were holding up x-rays and making noises of self-congratulation while Danny looked down at his newly-freed right arm as if it didn't belong to him.

Now the plastercast was off, it felt so light, like it was going to float up off the bed of its own accord. The arm looked thin and wasted and the skin was mottled. Danny didn't want to think about what his legs were going to look like when they were finally out of plaster.

"Have you dealing cards again in no time," Reuben said, smiling encouragingly at him.

Dealing cards. Danny nodded, flexing the muscle gingerly. Or holding a gun.


Lunchtime and Rusty ignored the suggestion that James might want to spend it with a bag of chips and a can of soda in the staffroom. Jennie's reproachful gaze followed him as he stepped outside. He grabbed a hot dog from a cart and then ducked into a drugstore with a payphone a couple of blocks away. He stepped into the booth and watched the front door as he punched in the number. The ringing seemed to go on forever and then the phone was answered.

"Detective Callahan, please," Rusty said, pitching his voice lower and slower.

A couple of clicks and Callahan's voice came on the line sounding uninterested and as if Callahan would rather be somewhere else. Time to do something about that.

"Detective, am I right in thinking you were investigating the Ocean case?"

He could tell that Callahan was suddenly all ears.

"I got some information for you."

"Who is this?"

Rusty smiled. "You can call me Tony."


Callahan hung up the phone and frowned. Talk about unexpected. Not like he'd forgotten the Ocean case – not like he would ever forget the Ocean case – but he'd moved on. There'd been a stabbing and an arson case and anyway, Agent Caldwell had taken charge of the crime scene of blood and horror.

"How do I know you're for real?" he'd asked, demanding proof.

There'd been a long pause and then the words had come, soft and chilling.

"They took the boy's teeth."

Callahan had swallowed hard and tried not to think about a mouth sliced wide open. It was a little detail that had been kept out of the public domain. Tony was for real alright.

He stared down at his notepad where he'd scribbled down everything Tony had said. This needed to be actioned. He dug out the phone number for Agent Caldwell and dialled.

"Sorry, Agent Caldwell is uncontactable at the moment. Can I help at all? My name's Felix Heston. I work with him."

The man sounded calm and capable – not unlike Agent Caldwell himself. Callahan took a deep breath.

"I've got a lead that needs to be followed up."


Early evening and Rick walked back into the hospital, pleased with himself. So much for golden boy dragging his heels. Oh, he could tell he wasn't working with Danny. All this insistence on crossing "i"s and dotting "t"s. No spontaneity. No go with the flow.

He'd swapped out the bag of jewels for a bag of torn up magazines with a top layer of fifty dollar bills. Simple. Straightforward. He'd stashed the jewels and felt the satisfaction that came from a well-executed short con. Success: there was nothing like it.

As he opened the door to Danny's room, Danny smiled at him, wire glinting and said three words that gradually resolved themselves into "Spot the difference".

The smile cracked its way across Rick's face as he realised the plaster was missing. "Hey, hey! On the way back, Danny!"

Things were definitely on the up and up.


The look on Tony's face when he walked into the office was one that was not often there. If Constantine had been asked to wager how many times he'd seen Tony uncertain, he'd have put it at less than five.

"What is it?" Constantine asked at once, his mind already darting to problems with the auction.

"Lloyd got back from pick up duty. The courier never showed."

Constantine relaxed. "Greedy courier. It happens occasionally. Let Salvatore know."

Tony nodded slowly. "Will do, sir."

Greedy and stupid courier, Constantine thought. Cheating Salvatore had its price.


Friday was a brisk day. Lots of pre-auction viewing of items and several new pieces being brought in for valuation. It seemed that the general public had a relatively short memory and were willing to forgive Larner's.

James was doing duty on the dealer desks, full of politeness, a perfect Larner's ambassador. Then the next customer sat down in the seat opposite him and James's smile froze on Rusty's face.

"Call this working for a living?" Rick grinned.

Danny. That was Rusty's first thought. And his second was that somehow Constantine and company were on to them. But…Rusty stared at Rick hard. No fear, no worry, no urgent need to communicate, just underlying smugness.

Rusty risked a glance round – Jennie busy with a customer, Alex talking with Tony…Constantine, thank God, nowhere in sight. He leaned forward, his face tight.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing here?" he demanded, his voice low and fierce.

Rick sat back in the chair and the grin grew wider. "Maybe I missed you."

"Get out, Rick," Rusty instructed brusquely.

Rick took no notice.

"Stand up and walk away before-"

Rusty broke off as Jennie's customer stood up and left. Another woman sat down with Jennie and Rusty leaned across the desk again.

"Rick," he said again, earnest and insistent. "Leave. Now."

"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist. We can talk." Rick reached into his jacket pocket and produced the lump of misshapen clay that he'd offered up for the Reverse Susan a lifetime ago. "Give me a valuation on this."

Rick just wasn't getting it. He couldn't see any of the danger and Rusty didn't know how to make him. Reluctantly, he bought time by taking hold of the primitive vase and examining it.

"What do you want?" Rusty asked. "What was so damn important that you couldn't wait?"

Rick sucked his teeth thoughtfully, drawing out the moment and Rusty's fingers tightened on the clay. Eventually, Rick deigned to reply.

"Thought I'd let you know that I've taken matters into my own hands."

Horrified suspicion dawning, Rusty slowly raised his head and looked at Rick. "You've…?"

"Got tired of waiting for you, golden boy, to get out of bed and do something." A look of nonchalant self-pride washed over Rick's face as he casually added, "Swapped out a bag of jewels yesterday."

There were no words. Rusty stared at him.

"It was easy," Rick told him, his voice dripping with contempt. "You want to make things so damn complicated."

Of all the arrogant, idiotic… The risk! The stupid, stupid risk where there need be none! Rusty forced himself to take a breath and to keep his voice calm and measured.

"All it takes is for the timing to be out by even a fraction and"-

"Relax," Rick lounged back in the chair. "It's under control."

"That's good to hear."

Alex. They'd been so engrossed that neither of them had realised Alex had drifted into earshot. A beat and then James smiled up at him.

"This gentleman has brought in a piece to be valued."

"You're in good hands," Alex assured Rick. "Mr…?"

"Ryan," Rick said. "Rusty Ryan."

Using his name - his real name - like it was nothing. Like it didn't matter. Like this was all some kind of... Rusty's lips tightened as Rick extended his hand and Alex shook it.

"Alex Taylor. Pleased to meet you. Well, James here will make sure that you're looked after, Mr Ryan."

Rick smiled and looked from Alex to Rusty, his eyes hard with scorn. "Good at that, is he?"

Alex shot Rusty an unguarded look of professional pride and personal affection. "Excellent."

"I bet."

Enough.

"I'm sorry but you've been misinformed about this," Rusty said, indicating the clay vase on the desk. "It's not worth anything."

Rick held his gaze expectantly and the frown crept into Rusty's eyes. What the hell…?

"Sir," Rick said softly.

Oh, he couldn't be serious! Point-scoring? With Alex stood there? The anger flashed into Rusty and cooled immediately, like steam hitting ice.

"Sir," James agreed and laughed. "Where are my manners?"

"They cost nothing," Rick smiled. "Well, it's a pity about the vase." He stood up. "Nice to meet you both."

Rusty watched him move away and then before another person could claim his time, James exclaimed for Alex's benefit, "He left the vase!"

Up and after Rick, through the crowded hall and out of the doors and onto the street, his hand firm on Rick's elbow, ignoring the protest and steering him away from the entrance of Larner's and into a side-alley.

"Get your hands off me!" Rick snarled, pulling free and knocking the vase out of Rusty's grasp, dashing it to the ground where it smashed.

For a long moment, the temptation to punch Rick was overwhelming. Rusty could feel his hands bunching into fists, could see his fist burying itself into flesh, could hear the wet, heavy smack of repeated blows to the face... Then logic took over because he seriously doubted Rick wasn't going to retaliate – Rick was itching for the verbal sparring to turn physical. And the next step was scrapping on the floor of the alley like he and Danny had at the back of Maria's and going back in to Larner's post-fight would mean explanations and…

No punching Rick.

He settled for "Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again."

Rick gave a short, ugly laugh. "What upset you exactly? Me meeting your little friend in there? He was ready to sing your praises. Your level of service must be so hot-"

"He's not my little friend and this is not a fucking game!"

They glared at each other.

"These men are killers," Rusty said, his voice cold. "They will not hesitate to hurt, maim and murder. Lose focus for one second… Going maverick is not smart."

Rick's gaze wavered. He gave a grunt and looked away.

"I got tired of waiting for you to come up with the goods, hotshot," he said sulkily.

"Evidently," Rusty snapped and then composed himself. "Don't take unnecessary risks. Just be patient, Rick, I'll find out the schedule and the timings of the pick-ups from our end. Then we'll have the full picture."

Rick's lip curled. "What's the problem there exactly? Can't you just suck more dicks? Or maybe you're bending over for the wrong Mr Taylor. Perhaps you need to climb into bed with Constantine."

Unwillingly, the memory shuddered through Rusty of Constantine's eyes raking their way over his body. He pushed it away with determination.

"Let's just stick to the plan. You don't act without knowing all the facts and you don't compromise everything by turning up at Larner's. Agreed?"

Rick was silent.

"Rick?" Intense. Demanding.

"You hurry up and get on with it. Because I want to do Danny's plan justice."

Danny. A beach and night-time confidences. The mind-blowing con on Hemingford Grey. The brilliance. The amazing. It all seemed so long ago.

Rusty ran a hand over his mouth. "How is Danny?"

"I'll tell you how he's gonna be," Rick said at once. "He's gonna be fucking furious that we haven't done more. He'll be fucking fuming that you haven't done more. What's the matter, Rusty? Enjoying yourself too much?" He turned to leave. "Get on with it."

Rusty watched him go and his shoulders sagged slightly.

"Get on with it."

Maybe Rick had a point. God knew he wanted to get this over with. He'd have to try harder.


It had been an exhausting day and Alex hadn't realised how draining it had been until the last customer had left and the doors had shut behind them. He met James's eyes and exchanged a smile of relief. Mind you, tomorrow wasn't going to be any less tense.

"Guess tomorrow's going to be just as busy," James said, echoing his thoughts.

He watched as James stood up and gave a long, lazy, uninhibited stretch and Alex couldn't help but picture muscles rippling under naked skin. He looked round. Jennie and the other Larner's employees had gone home for the night.

"You want to go out for a bite to eat?" Alex murmured, moving closer to blond and effortlessly sexy, his fingers reaching out to brush against the back of James's hand.

"No," James replied, pulling away and closing down his screen.

Disappointment started to course through Alex and then James turned to face him, moving closer into his personal space, blue eyes smouldering, and Alex could feel the electric charge arcing between them.

"No," James said again and this time it was deliberate like there was a plan. "What I thought was we could go and pick up some food and then head upstairs and eat it. What do you think?"

Alex thought it sounded…mmm…


Pizza. Alex had never eaten pizza naked before and he'd never fed it to anyone naked before. But as he watched long strings of mozzerella disappear and smears of tomato sauce were licked up off skin, as he looked at the shiny grease on James's lips and the way James's tongue worked to claim every last crumb, Alex vowed fervently it wasn't going to be the last time. As foreplay went…

Eventually, the pizza had all gone. Alex reached under a pillow and found a box of truffles.

"Dessert," James nodded, eyes gleaming.

Later and James was lying in his arms and the tension of the day was long forgotten. Alex kissed James's hair fondly. James shifted round and gazed up at him.

"So tell me a little more about Larner's."

"What do you want to know?" Alex kissed his hair again.

There was a half-shrug. "How does it all fit together? The auction side and the other side. It must be awfully complicated. I'm not sure I understand it."

"Maybe you don't need to understand it." Alex traced James's cheekbones and jawline with his fingertips and enjoyed the little shiver that ran through James. Then James caught his hand and kissed his palm.

"Please. I want to try. For you. For us."

Us. Alex's heart leapt. So James was thinking about an us too. Something long-term, something more than a temporary arrangement. He leaned up on one elbow, his fingers continuing to stroke, to caress, to claim.

"Alright. Let me see if I can explain."