A/N: This is probably the last story you'll get from me before NaNoWriMo starts up. This one came to me on the ride from the airport in Savannah, Georgia to the hotel in Hilton Head Island, South Carolina on Wednesday night. I was listening to my Castle playlist on my iPod and this song came up - see if you can guess which song featured on a season three episode of Castle inspired this ficlet!
Disclaimer: The real Castle writers are working on scripts. I'll be writing a novel... hopefully.
The apartment was empty. It was also hotter than the summer air outside – the super promised to fix the air conditioning as soon as possible, had apologized until Kate had nearly kicked him out. Until then, she was content to wear the pair of khaki shorts and a flowing lilac tanktop around the rooms, waiting for inspiration to strike.
Some of her old furniture had survived the bomb and had been purged of most of the smoky scent that had lingered in the fabric for months. Those pieces were in storage and she was hoping to wrangle some help from the boys to get the items up the stairs to the second floor of the building. For now, Kate had her pillows, a few throw blankets, a change of clothes, and not much else. She wandered from room to room, trying to picture her clothes in the closet, her books on the shelves, her mugs in the cupboards.
The knock on the door startled her. No one except Lanie knew her new address, not even her father. She hadn't ordered food so she slipped her off-duty piece into her palm and went to check the peephole.
"Castle?" she asked, opening the door when he gave a little wave.
"Hey. I brought food," he replied, holding up the take-out bag. "Can I come in?"
She only stepped aside and he took that as a 'yes.' She was glad he didn't notice that she slid the weapon onto the kitchen island as she leaned on it. "How'd you find me?"
He grinned at her over the island. "Lanie called. Said you hadn't eaten when she dropped you off and probably wouldn't have food here."
"Of course she did…" she muttered. "Well, food's great, but I've got nothing to eat it with or a place to eat it. Everything's in storage."
Castle took a quick glance around the apartment, shrugging. "It's Chinese, so there're chopsticks in here. And you have a floor. I think we'll manage, right?"
He set the bag on the ground as she pulled down the single glass and her coffee mug from the counter, filling them both with water from the tap. As he took out the four little cartons and set the chopsticks on top, Kate took in the charcoal grey cargo shorts and pale blue t-shirt that he was wearing – completely unusual Castle wardrobe choices.
She folded her legs under her, crossing them as she handed him the glass. "Here. It's the best I can do until I get the rest of my stuff here." Kate leaned her back against the fridge, watching as he opened boxes, passing her one and a pair of chopsticks.
"So, you'll probably need help carrying things up the stairs?" he asked, stabbing a chopstick into the noodles.
"Definitely, not probably." She expertly picked up some rice, popped them into her mouth. "I'm thinking sometime this weekend, since everyone has Saturday off. There's not a ton of stuff so it shouldn't take too long."
They ate in companionable silence, often reaching over to snatch food from the other's boxes of food. He looked up from his chow mein and found her blinking at him. Their eyes met and Kate smiled, shaking her hair back from her face. The moonlight shining in through the windows made her look like she belonged in a black and white movie, turning her skin paler and her hair darker, her smile the same, secretive one that Grace Kelly had tossed toward the camera time and time again.
And it hit him at the same high speed as it did that first time. He loves her. It was like a vise tightening around his heart every time he looked at her, the sweetest sort of pain he had ever felt. It hadn't been this way with any of his past wives or girlfriends or even when Alexis was born. He had loved all of them, but with Kate, it was different.
"What?" Her voice was quiet, still echoing in the empty apartment.
He shook his head. "Nothing." What he didn't say was "I just love you."
A/N: So, did anyone guess "I Hope This Gets To You" by The Daylights? Because if you did, you'd be correct.
I threw a note up on my profile, but just letting my readers know that NaNoWriMo will be consuming my life for November which means updates to stories such as Bringing Up Baby and Comfort will be few and far between. Don't message me asking for new chapters - they're not coming any time soon. All my stories here will be on hiatus until either I get sick of tearing my hair out writing 50,000 words or I need to get away from Jack and crew and turn to the 12th for friendship. I appreciate your patience with me as I struggle/work my way through completing my first novel.
That said, I'm not entirely sure if I like how it turned out, but I can only stare at it in Word and beg it to sort itself out for so long. I reached my begging limit with this one. Let me know via reviews if my worries are unfounded, because that would make me happy. As always, con-crit is completely welcome as well, as long as we remember the 'constructive' part of that term.