AN: Rarely have I been asked to consider a follow-up to a piece I've written, and though I found it difficult to force myself to return in order to refresh the old memory, I offer sincere thanks to Twitter's aussiecate16 for the kind request. I hope this bit o' fluff brings you a smile.
Chapter 1
The only thing Rick Castle ever kept count of was wins recorded by his beloved Mets, and that was, much to his chagrin season after season, far easier an effort for his brain than pleased him to think about. Detective Rick Castle, on the other hand, well, he currently found himself in the midst of an even more painful occupation, and it had him as crabby as a cat in the rain.
It was as though great Gotham had forgotten how soft Kate's touch was-or how gloriously hard it made him-as though the city he'd devoted years of service to had begun taking amusement in the anguish of their separation and chosen to perpetuate it with cruel mocking. What'd once been a pebble of bitterness balancing on his shoulder now more closely resembled Everest, and felt like it, even more than that.
Twelve fucking weeks of humans killing other humans at a rate he hadn't seen since he'd joined NYPD Homicide, filling his every calendar day and night with bodies, one after another like some tumbling wall of dominoes, when all he wanted was a goddamned break to be able to get on a plane to Los Angeles and wrap Kate's body up in his. It wasn't as though he was asking the universe for something as outlandish as another Mets World Series appearance for crying out loud. That would've been absurd.
"If you aren't going to eat that lump of fat, can you throw it in the garbage where it belongs, please? The smell is nauseating me from here," his partner groused from her desk in the bullpen that butted up against his. The commissioner's golden girl never let one morning pass without some snarky comment about his choice of breakfasts. He could only assume it was on some daily checklist she kept, beneath brushing her teeth and shining her halo.
"Yeah, well, that rabbit food you call a meal is boring the shit out of me, so let's just say we're even." Rick didn't even feel like eating his beloved doughnut. That's how bad things had gotten. "What day is this?" he asked wishing he was kidding, his fingers busy unwrapping a piece of gum that also never made it into his mouth.
Jordan slid him a glance overflowing with words. "The day you put in for time off. You look like hell, Castle."
"It's not like I have another photo shoot with the mayor on my schedule. What time is yours, by the way?" She didn't either, but grasping and griping was all he had left in his tank. "And, in case you haven't noticed, we're up to our eyeballs in crime scene tape. No way in hell Montgomery lets me go anywhere."
She leaned back in her chair, didn't even blink when its metal screeched with its age. Little ever rattled her, and he envied her for it-hated her for it sometimes, too. "He will when I tell him you're about as useful right now as that cream-filled glob of dough is. Need I remind you that you forgot to bring your badge and your piece to the job yesterday-your job as a cop? I damn sure don't want a partner with me through the door who can't keep track of what the hell day it is. It's Tuesday, by the way."
Of course she was right, he knew, though not about the doughnut.
"It isn't a resignation, Castle," she continued on his expression, "it's a few days. We can actually function without you. Sleep. Go to a baseball game. Go out to L.A. and get yourself laid. I don't know. Just don't be here like this. I'll pull Clarkson in. He's been sucking up for months. Maybe a taste will stop his nipping at my ankles."
Rick finally reached for his Boston cream, gave it an overly enthusiastic bite and dribbled pudding down his chin onto his shirt. He'd unknowingly managed to leave some of the same caked to his face the first day he'd met Kate, he recalled in the frustrating, albeit satisfying, moment, and it seemed like a sure sign if ever there was one.
"Fine," he said, "I'll talk to Montgomery." Jordan immediately pulled her attention, and he swore he noted the hint of a grin. "You don't have to be so happy to get rid of me, you know."
Tuesday, he thought. When the hell did that happen?
xxxx
"What's with the gloom, Chuckles? I can practically see your rain cloud from here," Kate asked from the other end of the phone line, the nickname she'd once bestowed still one she called up with affection. "Another rough day?"
Rick squinted his eyes shut, pinched the bridge of his nose. "You could say that. You could also say you aren't wearing any clothes right now. That might help." They'd managed to really up their innuendo game with the distance, but sometimes the sting of it called on him to speed right past that exit.
"Wow, only might? Must be very rough." She paused for the rumble in his throat. "I'm sorry. It hasn't been a picnic here, either. At the rate we're going, I could be here all night."
He tightened his abdominal muscles-the ones he'd been neglecting-and maneuvered himself upright on the couch. "Why? What's going on?"
Kate recognized his worry and quickly soothed it. "It's nothing, really, just a ton of setups today and we can't get our shit together. I shouldn't even complain. It's not like people's lives are in my hands or anything, not for real, anyway."
The corner of Rick's lip curled when the rev of his imagination enticed it. "I'm going to preface this statement by pointing out it's entirely of your doing: Absolutely fucking everything in my life would be made instantly better if I was in your hands right now." He teased, yes, but that didn't make it untrue.
"Hey, Detective Mind in the Gutter, you're the one that keeps postponing, remember? Tell that city of yours to behave for a few days and get the hell out here. Then you can be in my hands… and other things."
"Kicking a guy when he's down? How cruel, Fauxtective." Nicknames went both ways. "How does Thursday sound to you? Shaw reminded me earlier what day it is today, so I know now that's in two days."
Kate's brow crinkled, but her confusion was promptly shoved aside by an excitement that kicked the pitch of her voice up an octave. "Seriously? You can come in two days?"
"Ooo, again with a naughty softball, which, in the interest of time, I'm going to let pass because I'm sure you have to get back to the important stuff. Basically, Shaw gave me the boot for a few days because I'm too good at my job and she was growing too jealous of me and my successes."
"I'm sure she'd give me the same reason if I asked her," Kate retorted, rightly suspicious. "And Thursday sounds perfect. Buy a ticket, right now, the second we hang up. I'm actually not shooting on Friday. We don't ever have to get out of bed. Wait, shit!" she blurted without a breath. "I have a thing Friday night. I told a friend I'd go to her art opening."
"Well, I don't want to get in the way of your plans. You go to whatever you have to go to. I can just snoop through your lacy lady things while you're out. Trust me. That definitely won't be a problem." She shook her head and he swore he could hear it. "Or we can just make it another time, when it works better for you."
"No, Rick, I want to see you now." A sigh escaped her lips. "I miss your face."
He wedged the phone between his ear and his shoulder, flipped open his laptop. "I miss you, too," he replied, masking how much behind soft words. "So, Thursday?"
"Yeah, Thursday. Hey, listen, I'm sorry but I have to go over some stuff before they call me back to set. We still have one more scene to shoot. Find a flight and send me the details?"
"I'm looking now, and I will. I hope it goes okay-the Martini, is it?"
Kate wet her lips, snagged the bottom between her teeth. "Did you just talk Hollywood to me?"
"I do believe I did. Impressed?"
"Be prepared for me to show you how impressed," she answered with a purr. "Oh, and just so you know, Rick, you are the important stuff."
xxxx
Because she was going to be at the studio when he arrived, Kate hid a key outside for Rick, so he could let himself in and get settled until she was released for the day. His flight didn't leave JFK until late that morning, landed at LAX just before 3 p.m., where he hopped in an Uber to the house.
It sat up on a hill behind a gate, surrounded by the browns and greens of a valley speckled with homes below, its grey stucco exterior interrupted only by the sunshine bright of its oversized front door. Beds of flowers lined the path of its entry, mapped and mingled by her hand, he imagined, the image so sweet he didn't realize he'd stopped to smile over them.
Once inside, he pushed the door shut behind him and pocketed the key, stood still for a moment in the scent of Kate that welcomed him, let it dance in his lungs like the sweet air after a rainstorm. It seemed impossible how long he'd survived without it, and there in the silence he vowed never to be away from her for that long ever again.
Setting his bag out of the way, he composed and sent her a text message to let her know he'd made it safely to the house. "The purple lace is my favorite, by the way," he tacked on in jest. "Might buy myself a set."
"I know a great shop in Hollywood I can bring you to," Kate sent back after a brief wait, playing along. "If everything goes smoothly here, I should be there by 7 p.m. Make yourself comfortable. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I got some beer and some wine. I can't wait to see you."
"Me too." He left it there and her to her business, found a plug for his phone and a sofa to crash on. He could hardly wait, either, and sleep, he hoped, would help the few hours that remained melt away.
xxxx
He'd woken not ten minutes before he heard the buzz of what he imagined was the garage door, and he hurriedly discarded the gum he'd popped in considerate preparation back inside its wrapper. Too many hours and days and weeks apart had the beat of his heart at a pound and his hunger for the touch of her beyond any the necessity for food had ever aroused.
"Rick?" Kate called out, and he instantly set off in search, taking only a few steps before she appeared at the end of the hallway.
A scene from a movie was what it resembled, that moment when time seemed to come to a halt, when a slow fade to black promised a beginning, when strings swelled and smiles hijacked faces. She dropped what she held in her hands to the floor and came for him, he for her.
Somewhere in the middle they collided with unrehearsed precision, mouth on mouth like two magnets absent free will. "God, I missed you. I missed you so much," Rick breathed out through frenzied tastes.
Kate curled her fingers around a fistful of his hair with the sound of him, her eagerness possessive in its unveiling. It wouldn't have mattered what he'd said. The heat of his whisper against her lips was all her body needed to begin its ascent.
"Bedroom," she pleaded with a tug, leading him back around the corner and through the nearest doorway. "Bedroom." Within seconds she had his belt unfastened, his jeans around his ankles, and his t-shirt tossed away. Planting both hands on his chest, she pushed him onto the bed.
"Normally," he said with an animated huff, "normally, I'd ask you to peel your clothes off slowly so I could savor every second of it, but I can't wait that long, so get yourself naked, and make it fast."
She put up no fight, her fingers fumbling with buttons as her eyes sampled his skin, his muscle and bone, his every inch. "You order perps around like that, Officer Castle?" Her shirt fell to the floor and she flung it away with her foot. "What does Jordan have to say about that?"
He pushed up onto his elbows, growing harder for her with each passing second. "Only the cute ones. And maybe we don't talk about my partner right now, huh?" He flashed a peep at the only part of him that remained covered. "You don't want to scare him away, do you? He traveled such a long way to feel you."
Wearing but the trace of a smile, Kate stepped up to the bed, hitched up her leg and climbed on, inched deliberately up the length of his thighs until she was able to grab hold of the waistband of his boxers.
"What I want has nothing to do with talking." With a yank, she freed him, her body already warm and slick with anticipation. Leaning over him, his arms drew around her at the back, and she pressed her lips to his ear. "I spent every second of today thinking about fucking you."
That was the last thing either of them said.
.