Set between Punked and Anatomy of a Murder. For the purpose of clarity, assume Beckett is dating Josh but they are not exclusive or in a relationship. Thanks to Laura and G for insisting I write this one.
"Are you blind? That's a terrible call!"
The yell is loud and only partially drowned by the various boos and cheers of the other fans sitting in Madison Square Garden. At most, the arena is a third full for an exhibition game that's nothing more than a glorified warm up for the Knicks and the Boston Celtics, the sort of game that only die hard fans or incredibly bored tourists would bother with.
Initially, Castle had planned to pass the tickets on to Esposito and Ryan, let them reap the rewards of court side seats after a busy day on the job. But as Kate pulls her fingers to her mouth for a whistle that temporarily makes his ears ring he's so glad he didn't.
Not only is Kate Beckett a baseball fan, she's a basketball fan.
A very enthusiastic and knowledgeable basketball fan who has bonded with the group of beer chugging, jersey wearing and - oh, wow - foam finger waving Knicks fans eight rows back who have stood for everything but time outs, cheering their team on with a blind optimism that Castle is surprised anyone can feel after the past few seasons of hard knocks and dismal records.
"So, Beckett," he chooses his moment carefully, waiting for a lull in the action where Rajon Rondo is waiting for the rest of the Celtics to set up for their offensive play. No sooner than the screen is set and the first pass tossed to the right wing than Castle has taken his eyes off the game in favor of Kate, absorbing the sight of her bright eyes and casual body language as she sips from her souvenir cup of soda. "How do you know so much about basketball?"
Admittedly, he knows the gist from years of careful watching and a healthy amount of research. Growing up with a Broadway diva of a mother hadn't exactly fostered him with plenty of opportunities to baptize himself into the sports world. Beckett came from a family of seemingly avid fans and, well, he's always a sucker for a story.
Especially a story about her life b.c. - before Castle.
Even with what he thinks is clever timing she still sizes him up, eyes shifting from the game to his expectant face until there's a huff of breath before she releases a grunt of frustration and barks 'walk' at the referees the split second before the whistle blows to halt the action.
"Digging for more backstory, Castle?" she finally asks, giving her cup a shake that sounds more of melting ice cubes than liquid. Normally he might shy away at the question, insist she doesn't have to answer, but Kate's got this little half smirk on her face, amusement telegraphing in every single cell of her body, "If you must know, I played in high school. Basketball and volleyball; the sports made for tall girls."
Well, of all the stories he had thought up, it certainly hadn't been anything that simple. And now the questions are going to eat him alive.
"What position?" Castle blurts it out before he really thinks, mind whirring with possibilities and visions of what was sure to be an awkwardly adorable Kate Beckett with her long legs and rebellious spirt. He wants to know how many games her team won, how many points she scored, to call the coach and learn about her work ethic and practice routines.
"Forward, Castle. Tall girl. High school basketball," Kate replies, eyes narrowing at him with the passing side glance and quirk of her lips that he gets for the obvious question.
Right, that was a terrible question. He knew that. "Sorry, bad opener," he tells her with a shrug, smile still wide with excitement at this new bit of information. He also doesn't miss the way she rolls her eyes, head dipping down so that the long, chocolate brown strands of her hair will hide most of her face as she struggles to keep the pleased upturn of her lips hidden from him.
He's happy to see the effort, to gain a glimpse at shades of Beckett that has been a bit absent after the arrest of Mike Royce. In fact, he'd offered this outing in a half formed effort to cheer her up, give her something else to focus on aside from betrayal.
"It's good to see you smile again, Beckett," Castle offers it quietly, a purposeful move so that she can pretend not to hear him over the announcer and the crowd, but he knows that she does, if by nothing other than the hitch of breath that makes her chest rapidly rise and then deflate.
The surprise is in the fact that she lifts her head up, pushing one stray strand of that hair out of her eyes, "It's nice to have a reason. Thanks for bringing me. I almost told you no when you asked, thought it'd be awkward considering…." her nose wrinkles at the tip with the last word, mouth pursing up slightly in distaste at herself as if she never meant to bring it up.
But Josh Davidson hangs between them now, the doctor and his motorcycle a new and unexpected development from a few days ago. Of course he really has no room to be surprised, it's not as if she's a nun, but part of him had still hoped that maybe if things with Gina hadn't worked…
He puts a lid on that thought quickly, because even if things aren't ideal with Gina, they're still very much a thing. A thing that he's giving his best shot, even if she's not the woman he really wants.
"Considering Josh," Castle says, diving into the subject headlong if only to stop his own brain from forming completely traitorous thoughts. The surprise reads plainly on Beckett's face, eyes wide when she exhales a breath in time with the blare of the siren that announces a substitution on the floor.
Not that either of them would know for which team or even what the score is.
"I….yeah….." she replies, the fingers of one hand fiddling with the lid of her cup, "I didn't mean to spring that on you all like that. He just misunderstood about where to meet me and it….well, I know it might have been awkward."
"Awkward?" he goes for light-hearted, blowing air through his lips, "No, not at all." Disappointing? Absolutely, not that he's going to admit that. Not to Beckett at any rate. "It's good you have someone. I'm glad he makes you happy, that there's someone for you to go home too…."
And that much is true. Above all else, he does truly just want Kate to be happy.
Still, he doesn't expect the noncommittal shrug that she gives to his reply, head turned towards the game just in time to see one of the Knicks release a three-pointer that banks off the rim and directly into the hands of the Celtics.
"What a metaphor," she mutters, wry grin on her face, "I'll be honest and tell you that Josh….he's nice but that's about it. A nice guy that I like reasonably well, don't be marrying me off just yet Castle."
Just nice? He'd have expected a little more, even though this sharing openly thing isn't something they really do. It's new territory for them, this world where there aren't at least three levels of subtext to sift through in order to find the full scope of the thing.
"I wouldn't dream of it, Beckett," he manages, buying time by taking a long draw of his own drink even as his mind spins with possibilities that he really shouldn't consider when the whistles blow again and the teams converge on awaiting coaches at their respective benches for a timeout.
To be sure, it's the worst possible timing as they now don't even have the game to talk about in the tension filled silence. It's not uncomfortable, not really, but it is awkward with both of them trying to pretend they haven't just had a brutally honest conversation where walled-off Kate Beckett shared something very personal.
At first he doesn't even notice the giggles and light laughter, far too absorbed in analyzing and over thinking this new turn of events. What does get his attention is Kate's sharp gasp at his side, the way her body slumps so that her hands are covering her face even as the crowd roars in encouragement.
When Castle looks up, its to see his own face blinking back confusion from the large screen that normally displays the score and live game feed for people in the nosebleeds, and even then it takes another ten seconds before he understands the even louder din of the other fans, of the noise actually forming the words that are printed in bold red letters at the top of the screen.
KISS CAM. Kiss her.
The blush creeps up his neck with a swiftness that surprises him, flushing with heat and a deep pink color that is offset by the pale blue of his shirt. He looks like an Easter egg, and the hesitation he gives in acknowledging that fact gives the crowd time to boo as Kate risks coming out of her hiding place behind her hands to take a peek at him.
She's also blushing, a light pink stain to her cheeks that he finds truly adorable even as people voice their displeasure at their reluctance. "We would end up on the kiss cam," she groans, giving a half wave to the screen in the hope that it'll take a hint and pass them by.
It stays put, and the crowd begins a new tactic, rhythmic clapping that's punctuated by the yell: "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"
The sigh he releases is long, the shrug he gives to Kate a bit helpless when he gestures to the large screen, "What do you say, Beckett? Quick peck so they'll move on?" Regardless of how much he honestly wants to kiss her, how curious he is to discover how her lips feel against his, how she might taste or sigh or moan at the contact, he absolutely won't do it unless she agrees.
Her response is to scoot closer to him, hand lifting to lightly cup at his cheek in a move that makes their audience grow louder, whoops and whistles joining the chanting. It's all the permission he needs to lean in and crush their mouths together, releasing a huff of breath when her mouth opens to make the intended peck more of a lip lock that absolutely demands he stay put and explore the newfound territory.
The crowd's roar of approval is lost on him, every sense trained on Kate. There's a little moan when he tugs at her lower lip, mouth demanding and scorching in the way it slides over her own, the taste of carbonated soda and chocolate on her tongue, the feel of smooth, soft skin under his fingers when they brush against the long line of her neck.
Overall, it lasts mere seconds, the camera having quickly panned back to the action now that the game has resumed from both its time out and commercial break. Even the crowd has mostly left them behind, though he hears one lone wolf whistle after they've broken apart, mouths flushed and swollen from use and chests rapid in their rise and fall.
"…wow," the word escapes without his permission, but Kate's smile is immediate, full and a bit shy with the way she tries to duck her head. Instead, the smooth round plane of her cheek lands squarely in his palm, thumb running against the hard line of her cheekbone until he's gathered a piece of her hair and tucked it back behind her ear. "Do you want me to apologize?"
It's a serious question because, as wonderful as it had been, he's still somewhat of a gentleman; if a bit ashamed he's basically just made out with another woman while in a relationship with his publisher.
God, he can imagine Page Six already.
"….no," Kate's voice floats across to him softly, that swollen bottom lip caught between her teeth, "I didn't mind."
He leaves it there, releasing his hold from Kate with a reluctance that isn't surprising after the past few minutes, reclining in his seat with an absorbed silence that they share until the Knicks lose in the final stretch of the game, 107-101. It carries him through putting Beckett into a cab, in hailing his own ride to Gina's apartment and the trek upstairs towards a discussion that's really been building since the moment they reconnected and he left Kate standing in the precinct hallway.
And it's short in the end, Gina altogether too understanding for him to ever believe she hadn't seen it coming, hadn't spent months waiting on him to admit what they both already knew.
When he's hailed a second cab, there's a moment of hesitation before he gives out an address, a handful of heartbeats where he's sure that he's making a mistake that can never be put to rights.
Castle gives the destination anyway, sneaking into the building behind an Asian woman and a boy who he assumes is her pre-teen son. The wait after the knock is agonizing, spent bouncing on the balls of his feet and convincing himself not to turn and run full tilt towards the elevator before it's answered and he's forced to own up to the third insane decision he's made today.
The door opening leaves him struck a little dumb, the oversized t-shirt and leggings, the bare feet and makeup free face making Kate seem both incredibly young and potentially more beautiful than she's ever been.
Expectant, as well. There's a sparkle back in her eyes, and that smirk on her lips that he's about two seconds from kissing away while she stands there. He's poised at the edge of a cliff, hanging back deciding whether or not to jump.
"As the saying goes, the ball is in your court, Rick," she tells him simply, smile flirting at him in the split-second before Castle steps forward and leaps into the unknown, mouth pressed against his companion for the journey.