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"Wait, wait," Casey says into her cell. "Say what you just said again."
"Come on, Schraeger, keep up here," Walsh answers. "I said, I need you to do me a favor and go by that high-end sex shop over in Soho and buy me a vibrator."
"That's what I thought you said," Casey sighs. She pinches the bridge of her nose and wills the CrazyTuesday headache away. Davis arches an eyebrow at her and she smiles at him, mouthing Walsh and drawing an air circle next to her temple in the universal sign language for My partner is fucking batshit. "I know I'm going to regret asking, but why exactly do I need to buy you a vibrator?"
Davis half-chokes at that and Casey shrugs, because seriously, what else is she going to do? They've made it out to where the car and driver are waiting, and she's distracted enough to let Davis open her door for her, but she supposes it won't kill her to let it slide this one time.
"Walsh?" she prompts when there's no answer.
"Because I've got three more weeks on these damn drugs and Allison... deserves better than what I can give her." Casey doesn't think she's ever heard Walsh sound quite so short, but it's been a long month since he took a knife full of bio-toxins to the gut, and there are days when she's honestly a little worried that the cure, especially the drug cocktail they've got him on, is going to be worse than the knifing itself. Then she remembers the endless few minutes before the EMTs got there, on her knees shoving her coat against the slash, watching his blood soak through no matter how much pressure she was putting on it, knowing he had a good chance to bleed out in front of her, and she gets a grip on everything else.
"There are other things you can do, you know," Casey says, keeping her voice brisk. Walsh isn't really in a place where he can accept anything but business as usual between them, and if nothing else, she can keep that polite fiction going. "Sex doesn't just have to be the Tab A/Slot B thing--"
"I know that, Schraeger," Walsh snaps. "I can get into specifics if you want to double-check my technique--"
"No! Jesus, I was just making a suggestion," Casey says. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "You need a vibrator, fine, I'm good with that. And the reason you need me to get it for you rather than ordering it online like the rest of the free world is because..."
"Because it'd take a week to get here," Walsh says, back to the tight, clipped tone. "And I don't think I've got that long."
"Okay, now you're being a moron," Casey says. "There is no way Beaumont even implied that--I will bet my trust fund, any odds, that she would slap you into next week for even thinking she'd say something like that." Casey is offended on Beaumont's behalf. "Trust me. I was the one who was there with her while you were doing your Comas-R-Us act--whether or not you can fuck her now or in three weeks is not even making her list of things to worry about."
Davis covers his eyes with one hand, a pained expression on his face, and Casey belatedly remembers the driver, and well, whoops?
"Maybe," Walsh is saying. "But what if you're not right--"
"I am," Casey says. "But I am a good partner, so I'll take care of you. Go create some disgusting new breakfast goulash recipe and I will see you later tonight." She kills the connection and turns to Davis. "Please tell me wherever we're going has an amazing wine list."
"It's Restaurant Daniel--"
"Oh, I love it there." It's maybe the only trendy restaurant in the city that doesn't make her tense up the second she walks in the door.
"I know; that's why we're going." Davis smiles at her and she's momentarily distracted from BizarroWorld by the surge of genuine affection she feels for him and for how he notices things and how much of effort he's been making to appreciate her own efforts. It makes her really want to not fuck things up.
"Thank you." Casey leans in and kisses him lightly. "Can you maybe call ahead and ask them to open a bottle of wine for us--I honestly don't care what--because after we have dinner, we have to go to Soho and buy a vibrator for Walsh and Beaumont, because he's--"
"Because he's your partner," Davis finishes for her, already reaching for his own phone.
"Right," Casey says. "I think the whole night will go better if we start drinking as soon as possible."
"I think you're probably right," Davis agrees.
* * *
Restaurant Daniel is as incredible as always, and the wine is amazing, all three bottles of it, which might have a little to do with why it seems entirely sensible to call Walsh once they get to the store and are confronted with a freaking wall of vibrating options.
"So, did you have anything specific in mind?" Casey asks. "Curved, straight, bullet, lipstick, high speed, multi-pronged--"
"How would I know, Schraeger?" Walsh hisses at her. "It's not like I have a drawer full of them."
"Hey, if you're implying something--"
"I'm implying that you're a reasonably well-adjusted female with no hang-ups about sex, who's only recently started dating somebody seriously so I'm assuming you know more about vibrators than I do."
"It's a personal thing, Walsh, and you're the only one in this conversation that knows what Beaumont likes so unless you want me to call her, start talking."
"I--uh, jesus, I don't know. Just... something basic. You know, normal."
"Normal," Casey repeats, trying not to laugh.
"And no freaky colors."
"Gotcha."
Davis catches her attention and mouths Size?
"Oh, right, Davis says to ask you how big--"
"Wait, you brought your boyfriend with you?"
"I was on my way out to dinner when you called," Casey snaps. "Remember how we had that talk and you did your Yoda thing and told me I had to figure out how to be both the Rich Girl and the Cop? So, the Rich Girl went out to dinner with her seriously understanding boyfriend--" She smiles at Davis, because really, she's beginning to think she's finally hit the relationship karma thing right--"and the Cop is taking care of her partner. Is there a problem that I'm missing?"
"No," Walsh says quickly. "No problem here."
"So, how big do you want it, and please, I am begging you, for the good of our partnership, do not reference yourself in your answer."
"Medium?" Walsh mumbles.
"Okay, then," Casey says. "One basic, normal vibrator, in a semi-natural color, medium-sized, not too hot, not too cold, coming right up."
"Schraeger, are you drunk?"
"Of course I'm drunk," Casey almost yells. "I'm standing in an adult toy store, sorting through a hundred vibrators to find the perfect one for my partner and his girlfriend, both of whom I am virtually guaranteed to end up on a stake-out with in the next six months. I'm praying that this entire expedition will be lost in a haze long before then, and I'm doing everything I can to help in that effort."
"Yeah, okay, when you put it that way--"
"Do you have any other stupid questions?" There's silence on the other end of the line. "Fine. I'll see you in an hour."
The diner is dark, but Casey has a key and she's sobered up enough that she gets the door open on the first try. Walsh comes out to meet her but doesn't turn any of the lights on.
"I'm guessing Beaumont is here?" Casey says.
"Yeah, she's in the shower--"
"Okay, I'll be quick." Casey hands him the bag with the tasteful naked couple on the front. Apparently, plain brown wrappers went out with the new millennium. "I got you two--one basic, like you wanted, and the other one with a couple of extra bells and whistles that the woman who ran the department was raving about. She threw in some sample packets of flavored lube, and really, please don't ever tell me any details of how that works out--"
"Casey, listen--"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm an amazing partner."
"You are," Walsh says, no bullshit, no attitude. "I owe you, bigtime."
"You so do," Casey says. "Every single piece of paper that crosses my desk for the next year has your inbox written all over it."
"No problem."
"You really are an idiot, Jason. She didn't sleep for the first three days--she doesn't care what kind of sex you're having. She doesn't."
"Yeah," Walsh says. "I just--" He shrugs. "Thanks."
"You're welcome--oh--" Casey digs in the pocket of her coat. "Here. Extra batteries. Those things go through batteries like crazy and you don't want to be in the middle of a good rhyth--"
"Yeah, got it," Walsh says, a little more quickly than usual and even in the low light spilling out from his apartment, Casey is pretty sure he's blushing. She's still laughing when she gets back in the car and lets herself fall into Davis.
"Mission accomplished?"
"Oh, god, I wish I'd had a camera," Casey gasps. "The look on his face." She knows the wine has at least a little something to do with the crazy mood she's riding, but a lot of it is the sheer relief that Walsh is recovered enough to be an idiot about things. It feels like a hundred pounds off her shoulders, and regardless of how the actual sex works out, she hopes Beaumont feels the same way.
"Thank you," she says to Davis. "I know that wasn't even close to the evening you probably had in mind, but--"
"Are you kidding? I'll go into the office tomorrow and hear the same tired stories about frigid wives and boring dinner parties and I'll have to close my door so I can gloat in privacy." He smiles down at her, and presses a kiss against her temple. It's nice, and she means that in the best possible, non-boring way, the way she's coming to appreciate more and more. "I know I don't understand 'partner' the way you do, but I do know he watches your back, and that's pretty important to me."
"He does," Casey says. "He's still doing all my paperwork for the next year for this, but he really does have my back."
"Plus," Davis says, with a sly grin that Casey doesn't think she's ever seen from him before, but that she likes, "I took the opportunity to do a little shopping myself." He drops a tasteful-naked-couple bag of his own in her lap.
"Oooh," Casey says, sitting up straight. "Presents. How thoughtful of you."
"I'm a thoughtful guy," Davis says, and for a CrazyTuesday, it's not ending too badly at all.