A/N: I came across this poem and the story just happened. Set late season one, but can also be considered an AU episode insert for Home Is Where the Heart Stops (1x07)
"i don't let people in
but you,
you are the kind who sees galaxies in your coffee
where others just see sugar and cream
…and you're the one who makes sure i got home
safe and that i'm eating well and getting out of bed"
It's late, past midnight, and her head is pounding. She's had a horrible day. A young woman's mother was killed and there's just too many similarities to her own story, too many memories, too much heartache, and she has to solve this, but it's hardly been 24 hours and there's just not enough evidence yet.
Castle left hours ago at her insistence. She had told him she was on her way out too when he had watched her in concern, but that had been at nine and now it was midnight and maybe it's just the toll of a long day, but she has the urge to cry from frustration in the dim lighting of the empty bullpen.
"Beckett."
She jerks at the tenor of his voice breaking the silence, sees him dressed down in jeans and a sweater, that same concerned look on his face from earlier.
"You should go home."
Her eyes dart straight to the murder board and her mouth prepares to argue against him, to spat that he knows nothing about her, not enough to come looking for her in the middle of the night and cajole her away from a case.
But she doesn't say any of those things when he comes and stands between her and the white board. He plucks her coat from the back of her chair, holds it out for her until her arms mechanically lift and slither through, and she doesn't fight when he places a soft hand at the small of her back and leads her to the elevator.
She does protest when he guides her towards a parked town car idling outside, but he assures her he's only trying to make sure she gets home safe and she's too tired to argue.
There's a brown bag full of styrofoam in one of the seats when she finally relents and crawls in the car with him.
"I picked you up some dinner," he shrugs at her questioning look. "From that Italian place you mentioned a few weeks ago."
She almost gawks over the fact that he even remembers that. Always listening to her, cataloging every word.
"It was a place I wanted to try, but it's way too expensive," she murmurs, hating the idea of him spending money on her. Hating the way her heart swells at how he cares.
"Will it make you feel better if we share it when we get to your apartment?"
She rolls her eyes, but the smile tugs at her lips and she hates that too.
It's so confusing when this side of her shadow comes out to play. She's so used to the playboy author who's always acting like a jackass and needling his way into her life without permission. The kind, caring man sitting next to her now is different and genuine and throws her off every time he decides to make an appearance. But this side to him, it feels more real than anything else and it makes her question the polar opposite behavior she's seen otherwise.
In her apartment, they share the food he bought after he finishes marveling over her home like it's the eight wonder of the world. There's nothing fascinating about her apartment, but he's made it clear anything that has to do with her fascinates him to an extreme.
Kate doesn't realize the intensity of the hunger that's been gnawing at her stomach for the last few hours until she's finished nearly half of her plate in hardly five minutes. Castle doesn't seem at all surprised, only sticks another breadstick on her plate and smiles as she slows her pace but continues to consume her meal with relish.
It may be expensive, but oh so worth the cost.
When their plates are empty and she's placing them in the dishwasher, he heads for his jacket on the couch and she realizes with startling horror that she doesn't want him to go. She doesn't want the night to end even if it is too late for this and she should be getting ready for bed and well rested for work in the morning.
"Wine?" she asks, producing an opened bottle from her fridge.
Delighted surprise arcs his brow and he nods his assent, dropping his coat and taking the glass she offers him.
They sit together on her sofa for two hours. They talk about his family, the books, his youth, and in return she reluctantly offers up a few stories of her own - tales from her father's cabin, times from when her mother was alive, pieces of her history that existed when her life was simpler.
At two a.m. he sighs, says he should probably head home even though his eyes say otherwise. He's giving her another opportunity to make him stay longer, but she has nothing else to offer except something she's not yet willing to give.
So she walks him to the door instead, lingering while he slips his coat on.
"Thanks for this," she murmurs, so inadequate, but he looks at her as though she's spoken the most eloquent form of appreciation.
"Anytime. I had fun."
"Me too," she admits before she can stop it.
"Can I hug you?"
Her eyebrows rise, but she shrugs her shoulders and doesn't step away when his long arms coil around her waist. Her brain tells her to remain still, it's just a friendly hug and if she doesn't encourage him, that's all it will remain, but her disobedient arms curl at his shoulders, loose and awkward, but it feels nice. He's broad and warm and all encompassing, and she's hugging him tighter before she realizes what she's doing. She buries her face in his neck, inhales the subtle, comforting scent of his aftershave, and he cradles her there. Doesn't suffocate her, doesn't squeeze too hard, just holds her.
She wants him to stay.
He calls her Kate and murmurs something about her strength, something about 'extraordinary', and she lets him. Lets him say all of these odd, sentimental things she would never otherwise allow. Because tonight is different for some reason. Tonight is new and tentative and him being a friend rather than the annoying tag along and she doesn't mind it so much. She likes this sudden change.
He steps back after a long minute in her arms and her body immediately mourns him. Her hands slip from his back, catching on the lapels of his coat, unwilling to let go.
"Kate?"
Tomorrow they'll pretend this never happened. They'll go back to normal and part of her hates that more than the idea of things changing. She wishes they could be this way more often, hates that she's probably the one keeping it from happening, but she doesn't want to get hurt and she can already tell he has the capability to wound her fragile heart.
He's staring down at her, trapped between confused and hopeful, and she tugs on his lapels, has to lift on her tiptoes to reach him since she discarded her shoes by the couch, but she leans into him, catches his mouth with her own.
Neither of them move, but she doesn't pull away. The flesh of his lips pressing oh so softly against hers is pleasant, more than she ever would have thought it would be, but then his lips move and pleasant gives way to something richer, hungrier.
Castle's palms cradle her skull, fingers in the short auburn strands of her hair as he holds her there, sucking gently on her bottom lip until she releases a breathless little moan.
He tastes like coffee when her tongue slicks along the seam of his lips, like wine and pasta, and something else, something minty and musky and only his.
Her hands travel up his chest, up to curl around his neck and into the soft hair at the base of his skull. Her back bumps against the frame of the door and he catches the quiet gasp that slips past her lips as her spine arches.
She's surprised when he's the one to pull back, his hands still cupping her face. She wonders if she looks as stunned as he does.
"Beckett," he whispers, and she realizes he looks a little terrified too, as if she's going to kick him out of her life at any moment, but she doesn't.
She slides her hands from his neck, allows one to skim across his cheek in its retreat, and offers him the tiniest of smiles as she unlocks her front door.
"Until tomorrow, Castle."
His eyes shimmer, brighter than she's ever seen, and she knows what she's done.
She's given him hope for more.
"where others saw ruin and black nights and spite
you looked into my eyes and whispered
"you're so full of life.""
-inkskinned