Richard Castle sat at Kate Beckett's desk with two cups of delicious, steaming coffee, the quintessence of normality. It was nine am and there still was no sign of her. No keys, no jacket, no scattered array of hastily strewn files upon her desk. Castle was perplexed, to say the least. Habitually she would've been here a good hour before he'd make an appearance, eagerly awaiting her daily dose of caffeine, but not today.
"Hey Esposito, where's Beckett?" Called Castle. His eyes flitted to where Esposito sat across the room, determined to get some answers.
"Didn't she tell you? She took part of the morning off. Said she had some…" He hesitated, selecting each word he planned on using with caution, "…Business… to attend to. She should be arriving soon, though" Esposito finished mysteriously, seeming satisfied in his delivery.
Business that didn't involve him...? Castle was definitely more so intrigued than before, yet disappointed seeped its way in at the realisation that she had chosen to confide in Esposito and not him. It couldn't be that bad, right?
True to his word, the elevator doors opened with their usual rumbling sweep, a noise so common that it became an afterthought to everyone in the department, like the hustle and bustle of traffic to a New Yorker. But Castles eager ear had picked it up and turning to look, none other than Kate Beckett emerged, strolling purposefully toward her desk, brown silky locks bouncing in time with each resolute step she took. But why did she look so short all of a sudden? Well, not that she was actually short. She was a tall woman, but not as staggeringly tall as she usually was.
Castle glanced down at her feet and noticed that her standard three to five inch heels, varying daily, had been traded in for a pair of shiny black flats with a pointed toe. In the four years he had spent working with her, he had never known her to wear flats to work. This certainly was shaping up to be an odd day, though it had barely begun.
"Morning, Castle. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don't think they're made in your size" came the voice of his favourite, and only, female detective.
Castle looked up to find Kate standing in front of him, pointedly looking down to him with one hand on her hip, leaning toward her right.
"Wha?" replied Castle, feeling slightly confused about their apparent exchange that had just taken place.
"My shoes. You've been staring at them since I walked in." She said, catching him up on what he'd missed during his shoe induced haze.
"Oh, right. They're very exquisite, but completely out of character for Detective Beckett, very Kate, though." He responded, handing her cardboard cup of coffee to her.
"Felt like doing something different…" She reasoned, taking the coffee from him gratefully, even if she were not quite willing to show the true lengths of her enthusiasm.
"Espo, I have the warrant for James' financials." She said, pulling the paper from her bag and depositing it into his waiting hands.
"You took the morning off to get a warrant signed?"
"Among other things…" Kate smiled over her shoulder as she made a beeline to the break room, obviously playing her cards very close to her chest.
-
Naturally, Castle followed her, hoping to solve this mystery at the very least. But who knew? Anything more would be both welcome and a bonus.
Ah, there was the next clue. As she reached up to get a plate from the top of the cupboard, the left leg of her black slacks rode up, exposing something blue with a lot of Velcro attached.
She removed her double choc muffin from the wrapper, peeling off the casing from the bottom before putting it on a plate. As she opened the microwave, placing it inside before setting the timer for thirty seconds, he crowded her near the bench, trapping her with hand on either side of her body.
"Kate Beckett, what is that under your pants?" He murmured seductively into her ear.
She had to stop herself from shivering, to not display so openly how much his proximity was affecting her.
"A leg strap." She replied once she felt she had her voice under control. It sounded relatively normal... At least, she hoped it did.
Castle stepped back, allowing her to turn around and face him. He dropped to his knees in front of her and slowly, but purposefully, slid the left leg of her pants up. He lightly dragged his fingers over her skin as he did, revealing her strapped leg, doused with hints of mottling bruises between the gaps.
He continued his exploration of her injured leg, lightly brushing the top of her foot, her ankle, up her calf and rested just below her knee, all while watching in utter captivation as her skin erupted in goose bumps under his touch.
"Why is your leg strapped?" He looked up at her from his place on the floor, his eyes a darker shade of blue than usual, a shade she had only seen between the kisses they had shared while "distracting" the guard. She shivered at the memory and felt the flush on her chest spread up to her neck. She secretly hoped that someone had turned the heat up so she'd have a valid excuse for her current state.
"I... Uh... Slipped... Water... Floor... Dancing... Pulled... Ligament…" Came Kate's fragmented answer, unable to speak in coherent sentences as Castle's wandering fingers migrated to the back of her knee and softly stroked the sensitive skin that lay there.
Upon her confession, Castle abruptly stood up, bringing them back to more or less the same height. The sensations Castle was providing her with suddenly stopped. Kate slumped against the counter, struggling to stay upright. What on earth was wrong with her? All he'd done was touch her leg... In all the right ways and places.
"Since when did you take up dancing? And what dance were you doing when you... Pulled a ligament?" he questioned, his eyes flicking down to her leg that he'd just taken his warm hands from, then, slowly moving his vision back up to her eyes, patiently awaiting her answer.
Kate saw this as her opportunity to turn the tables. To rile him up a bit and intensify his own personal heat to see just how much he enjoyed it. She bit her lip as a slow, wicked grin spread across her face. Stepping forward just enough to close the distance between them, she puts them knee-to-knee and chest-to-chest.
With the lengths of their bodies aligned, Kate slid one hand up Castle's broad chest and rested her long, warm fingers behind his neck to tug him down to her height, seeing as she was currently at a disadvantage height-wise.
Castle felt his stomach flip. Their current position gave him the privilege of feeling all the soft, yet toned, contours of her body that was deliciously pressed up against his. He ached to explore them with his own two hands and ten fingers but right now he didn't dare push any boundaries which Kate may have mentally set, or most definitely would have set, come to think of it, this undoubtedly a test of sorts. For now, being on the receiving end of Kate's sweet torture was enough.
Kate continued to pull on his neck, bringing him closer and closer with every passing second. Their noses touched and he was convinced she was going to kiss him of her own accord and desire. She felt his heartbeat quicken and she had to resist smirking. Instead of actually kissing him, much to his disappointment, she angled her head to the left and slid her cheek against his, leaving about a centimetre of space between her mouth and his ear.
"Mmmm, Rick…" She purred, "I'll have you know I've done many different types of dance; ballet, burlesque and on occasion, a bit of pole…" She told him, her hot breath rushing over his ear.
He felt his throat constrict. Not in any of his wildest fantasies involving Detective Kate Beckett had he envisioned her doing such things. Perhaps it was time to upgrade his material? Feeling slightly bold at her confession, he allowed his left hand to migrate underneath her satin shirt, leaving it to span her lower back, feeling the muscles underneath contract for a brief moment.
"Were… Were you pole dancing when you slipped?" He managed to squeak out once he had somewhat recovered.
Abruptly, Kate pulled back and put a meter in between them, a gulf Castle never wanted to experience, not after being so close. Somehow managing to look like she wasn't just pressed up against him, whispering into his ear and being so close to kissing the life out of him. Boy, she was good at this.
"No, Castle, it was the cha-cha, get your mind out of the gutter." She chastised, giving him her best "as if" look. But seeing as he had such great attention to detail, he certainly didn't miss that ever so subtle, flirty smirk she gave him.
The microwave beeped three times, sending yet another reminder that it had finished warming food, seeing as they'd both been oblivious to the other three times. Kate turned away from Castle, opened the door, removed her freshly warmed and melted muffin and then closing it again, she gathered the rubbish she had left on the bench, committed it to the trash and exited the break room as briskly as she had come.
Now it was Castle's turn to slump against the counter and he had to forcefully remind himself to breathe. Kate Beckett really was a wicked woman, and his faith in inanimate objects had been restored. Maybe leg straps really do have magical properties after all?