For debirlfan in the fandom_stocking fest.
"I am not claustrophobic," Beckett said.
Castle raised his eyebrow. "So that frantic pounding on the door just now, and that rant about the NYPD's 'damned dilapidated equipment,' and the pacing back and forth...that's caused by what, exactly?"
"Maybe I just don't want to be suck in an elevator with you."
He smirked. "Oh, come on. I'm probably the best person you could be stuck with. I know plenty of interesting ways to pass the time."
"Shut up, Castle." She pounded on the door again. "Any word on when they can get this thing working again?" she shouted.
"Maintenance is working as fast as they can, Detective," Captain Montgomery's disembodied voice said, sounding small and far away. "But it may be another half hour or so."
Beckett's entire body seemed to deflate at the news. "Thank you, sir," Castle called out. "We'll be here."
Beckett went back to pacing the Twelfth Precinct's elevator. She was starting to make him dizzy. "Beckett," he said, catching her by the shoulders and forcing her to stop walking. He noticed the line of sweat dotting her brow, and the quickness of her breathing. "You really are claustrophobic," he said, much more gently than he'd done before, when he was merely trying to tease her.
She crossed her arms. "Yes," she ground out, and he knew it cost her. "It's not as bad as it could be, but..."
"It's bad enough," he supplied. "Okay, well...try and breathe deeply."
"Castle, do you really think I haven't tried to solve this problem on my own? You telling me to breathe deeply is not going to make it magically go away."
He glanced away, stung by her words but not willing to admit it. "Sorry," he murmured.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yeah, me too." She shrugged out of his grip and went to the far corner of the elevator, sliding down until she was seated cross-legged, her eyes firmly shut. "Sometimes it helps if I do this," she explained.
He sat in the opposite corner, stretching his legs out in front of him. They only sound for several moments was that of their breathing, his quiet and even, and hers slowly settling into a regular pattern. "You can keep talking," she eventually said, her eyes still shut. "You'll go loopier than me if you don't, I'm sure."
He smiled at that, though she couldn't see him. "So I'm guessing this means I should scratch 'making out in a supply closet' off my list of things I'd like to do with you one day?"
She opened one eye and glared at him. He gave her his most charming grin. In response, she shook her head, sighing, and closed her eye again. "I suppose I could interpret that as you having some compassion."
"I am filled with the very milk of human kindness." He forged ahead, hoping he was correct that returning to their usual banter would take her mind off her claustrophobia. "Of course, that still leaves the squad room, the interview room, the roof..."
"Castle..." she warned, but he could see she was holding back laughter. "The roof?"
"Very romantic spots, roofs. A nice view of the city, little breezes you're just high enough above the ground to get playing with your hair—"
"—despite the fact that we're surrounded by taller buildings and it's the dead of winter—"
"—can't you just imagine it?"
She was silent for a long moment. "Yes," she finally murmured, and suddenly he was very, very glad she still had her eyes closed.
Before he could say anything, the elevator lurched upward, jostling them like pinballs. A moment later, the door opened, and they found a good chunk of the Twelfth Precinct staring at them. Some of them had disappointed looks on their faces, as if they had expected to find them in a compromising position. "Are you two all right?" Montgomery asked.
"We're fine," Beckett said, standing up and offering Castle her hand.
"Good." Montgomery turned to the crowd around them. "All right, everyone, excitement's over. Back to work."
With some grumbling, everyone did just that.
Castle quickly followed Beckett to her desk. "So, about that rooftop idea..."