A/N: docnerd89: We proudly (and somewhat warily) present to you, our latest joint venture in Caskett - I mean Castle fic writing, complete with original, almost unedited chapter titles.
kimmiesjoy: We hope you enjoy what is supposed to be a lighthearted, occasionally silly, fun summer fic *chants* it's not a case fic! I also just wanted to say thanks to the Doc, for many things both appropriate and not, but mainly for her friendship and continued ability to put up with my persnickety tendencies! Hug you!
He shoved the empty cup through the lid of the garbage can, shaking the droplets of coffee from his fingers as he glanced over his shoulder - huffed the neck of his coat higher - and followed the sound of sirens, the Police cars dashing past.
The dregs of the nearly empty to-go coffee cup sloshed into the trash and he took the few extra seconds - ditching the rest of his rubbish - to glance back up the street at the gathering crowds.
They were running through their routine - the cops - with their yellow tape cordoning off the curious passers-by and apartment folk trying to get back into their buildings. Mailmen, garbage collectors and street vendors all stood around in groups staring, the occasional flash of a camera drawing his eye - people were ghouls.
The Medical Examiner's van pulled up beside the bright splash of yellow tape that was dividing the street, and he watched as two plain clothes detectives ushered a tiny, spunky, dark haired woman in front of them. She barked orders in their direction - and possibly some profanities judging by the indignation bursting from one of them - thrusting her bag at the taller of two, ignoring his glare and gesturing for the other one to lead the way.
He wanted to laugh, watching them all scurry about, oblivious. Imbeciles, the lot of them, and he chuckled to himself enjoying the fact that none of them had a clue.
Nobody had anything to do with him. He kept himself to himself, and over here in the shadows, he was a nobody and standing on the sidelines was playing out much like the rest of his life. He was that guy.
That guy.
The invisible person who existed, that everyone knew of but knew nothing about. A walking ghost. A background actor, melding into the scene behind the main focus, never at the forefront, never worth a second glance, never important enough to warrant one and it offered a certain level of anonymity that he had never really enjoyed before.
Today it was perfect.
He was mostly okay with it now - being in the shadows - he didn't particularly like being in the limelight and he had spent years learning to adapt, to find his invisible niche. Now he liked it, it meant that he could do things that slipped under the radar, and get away with them because he was inconspicuous and his confidence grew with each passing act that went unnoticed.
People just didn't see him.
Today was one of those days where it crossed the line of ridiculousness, when he somehow became invisible - when he had people banging straight into him as if their eyes failed to register his existence. They stepped in front of him in queues and, Heck, even dogs would collide with him at the park.
His existence was the universal joke that no one laughed at. But all of that was about to change.
It was easy, really, like some force of nature wanted this to happen, wanted things to work out for him and he smiled, happy that his in plain sight hiding place allowed him to stare to his heart's content. Everyone else was. Onlookers gathering by the second, and he couldn't have arranged a better scenario, worked out a better opportunity than the one that had presented itself.
The circumstances were practically gifted to him, means and anonymity - the chance to be just another faceless face in the crowd - and he wasn't about to waste a good gift.
He caught sight of them again in the distance, the man and woman standing together on the opposite street corner. She stretched out her arm and dabbed at his shirt, the brisk morning wind sending her hair in a mahogany spiral that hid the two of them from view for a moment.
He stepped back, fading in with the gathering crowds, observing the couple from afar. When the wind dropped again their heads were dipped towards each other as they spoke in a conspiratorial rush, the woman gesturing a little wildly until the man took the cup from her hands and pointed down at his shirt.
Even across the distance between them he heard the tinkle of the woman's laugh, caught the sly pat of her hand over the mans chest, watched the way their bodies seemed drawn to each other. It hit him hard and fast. They were the kind of people he was not.
They stood out.
He watched as the woman plucked her still intact cup of coffee from the man's hand, tucked her hair behind her ear and turned on the spot, heading to the crime scene.
She was beautiful, intriguing and commanding, the type of woman he would have someday, when all of this was over. When he stood out instead of disappearing into the crowd, when his work came to fruition.
He shook his head as the man stared at her for a fraction of a second, broad shoulders bracing against the light wind, before striding after her like a loyal pup.
Pathetic, he thought, watching as the sea of hustling, bustling uniforms parted for them, and before his eyes they transformed into the people in charge - no longer the adorable couple, but still standing out.
Huh.
"You're still touching it." Beckett barked, reaching out and smacking his hand away with her own, forgetting the coffee cup she was still holding.
Curling his fingers around her wrist and pulling her to a stop, Castle gently tugged the cup from her hand and shook his head when she pouted, "You're going to get more on me if you start attacking me in middle of the street." He looked down at the length of his chest, the press of flesh more visible through the soaked cotton cloth now, "I'm already a wet mess, Beckett. Gonna need a shower to - what?"
She shook her head, trying to shake off the image of him in the shower dripping in coffee... "Nothing." She cleared her throat and took the napkin from him, needing a distraction.
As Beckett set to dabbing at the rapidly cooling, gross and wet front of his now ruined shirt Castle sighed, "I am cursed." He touched the edges of the coffee stain again, pressing hard, his fingers dancing across his torso.
"You are not." Beckett placated, barely, staring at the movement of his fingers over the light blue shirt making it cling to his skin. The contours of his broad chest getting more visible by the second, and he continued to touch himself through the soft cotton of what happened to be one of her favorite shirts.
It really didn't help that he was going to smell like coffee for the rest of the day.
Coffee and Castle.
Mmmm.
She shook her head again, shook off the heat swirling in the pit of her stomach and glared, waving her arms at him in desperation. "And stop rubbing it. You're spreading it around and making me wet."
His eyebrows shot up, but the dampness of the material clinging to his skin made him take the high road, choosing to ignore her phrasing. "It's cold." He grumbled.
"Suck it up, Castle. At least it didn't burn you and next time maybe you could watch where you're going, and we can avoid accidents," she said with a smirk, making it clear that the double entendre in their conversation was intended, not just a figment of his imagination.
"Hey!" he said indignantly, "That guy came out of nowhere, and ploughed into me . He was too busy staring across the street at the hullabaloo to look where he was going."
Beckett smirked, rolling her eyes at his word choice and she opened her mouth to contradict him but he carried on regardless.
"Besides, did I, or did I not save your coffee? That's right, I did. I guarded this thing with my life!" He said, presenting it to her rather dramatically as if the brown-cuffed white cup of caffeine was in fact the holy grail. "It doesn't matter if there are stumbling idiots colliding with me in the street, in fact there could be a hail storm - nay, the apocalypse itself! - and I would still protect your coffee."
"It is really good coffee." She acknowledged, glancing at the cup then back to him, rubbing it in a little bit, "It's a shame you couldn't save your own in the process."
"You could always share, Beckett."
"I'm grateful, I'm not that grateful." She rolled her eyes, and growled, licking at the steam that erupted from the cup the closer she brought it to her mouth. "And you're just accident prone, not cursed." She glared, daring him to contradict her and when he didn't she spun on heel of her boot and cut her eyes towards him in challenge, "You coming, Castle?"
He took a moment to watch her striding ahead to catch up with the boys, a look of adoration, and awe adorning his face, his head tilted to watch her walk away, before he jerked himself back to reality mumbling under his breath, "Aren't I always?"