Winter Colds
Prompt from Anon: Beckett catches a cold and Castle convinces her to go home and takes care of her.
Disclaimer: I am so not Andrew Marlowe, and you can't even begin to comprehend how sad that makes me.
Chapter One:
Reaching quickly for the tissue box, Beckett's groan of disapproval was cut off by the sharp sound of a sneeze. Blowing her nose as quietly and inconspicuously as possible, she tossed the tissue into the trash can before turning her head to the board in front of her. God damn, this stupid murder just wouldn't work itself out.
Castle looked to the woman next to him, and then to the trash bin, where fifteen tissues were piled up. "Hey, Beckett," he said, waiting for the woman to turn and look at him. "Beckett, you need to go home. You're running yourself ragged. You've slept on the break room couch twice, and clearly you've got a cold. Go home. This case will be waiting for you tomorrow."
Beckett turned away, annoyed by the interruption. It was just a sneeze. This case was important. A twenty-one year old, her life cut short by a suicide attempt – or so they had thought, when she had been found hung in her closet. Lanie's autopsy had turned up suspicious details – like traces of date rape drugs in her system, and bruising on her arms – and ever since then, they'd been trying to figure out who'd had it in for the girl. The boyfriend, who was notoriously jealous? The best friend, who felt abandoned? The guy In her physics class, with the creepy smile and too many photos of her in his room?
But they all had alibis, air tight ones. Damn. Beckett rubbed her eyes, suddenly feeling the effects of running on no sleep.
"Beckett, come on."
She turned to Castle, determined to tell him off, but his concerned face made her pause for a moment. Catching a glimpse of Rebecca's smiling face in her peripheral, though, she steeled herself. "Come on, what? Castle, who cares? I sneezed once or twice. It's not a big deal. A murder-" she emphasized the word, pointing to the board, "that's a big deal. Let it go."
Castle sighed. Beckett and her need for heroics. He knew the murder was a big deal – he was the one who couldn't help but see a little of Alexis in the victim. He was the one who texted his daughter every time he got nervous about her safety, which meant Alexis was receiving texts every forty five minutes, the tone of her replies getting progressively more annoyed.
But Beckett needed a night of sleep, needed to get home. He knew her – Kate broke cases when she was well-rested, missed details when she was running on caffeine. Leaning back, he searched for some way to convince her to go home, eyes first landing on the office that used to be Montgomery's. Before, he could have texted the Captain discreetly, made him order Kate home. But not anymore. Eyes shifting away, he spotted the trash can. Perfect.
"Really? Once or twice?" Beckett held up a hand, as though trying to shush him. He picked up the waste basket, shook it in front of her. "Once or twice? This isn't once or twice." Beckett's eyes grew a little larger. Interesting, he thought, apparently Kate got so absorbed in cases she didn't notice when she got sick. He filed away the note, to use for Kate's benefit or Nikki's, he wasn't sure.
"I, uh… I have allergies?" Kate lamely explained.
"In the middle of the winter? I don't think so." His voice dropped a bit, laced with concern. "Come on, Kate. Go home, take a bath, get some sleep. I'll even make you some of my famous chicken noodle soup."
Beckett's eyes went wide at Castle's use of her first name – he only did that when he really wanted her to listen, when he was trying to reach the woman behind the detective. With a quirk of her mouth, she responded, "Oh boy. Are you sure it's not famous for making people sick? I'm not sure I trust a Castle concoction." Of course, the words weren't true. She'd eaten at his apartment enough to know he was a fantastic cook. But still, she couldn't help the joke. Looking back at the murder board, taking advantage of the hurt look on his face as he searched for the perfect comeback, she performed some mental calculations. She could afford the eight hours or so off, get about six hours of sleep. Rebecca would be waiting, and she wasn't going to get any new witnesses in the next few hours.
Taking out her phone, she took a quick snap of the board, a reference in case she woke with any brilliant thoughts. It was a trick she had learned from Castle, and he was smiling at her when she turned his way. Damn. Clearly he realized she'd picked up the habit from him.
"What are you smiling about, Castle? You're about to become my personal servant – food, drink, blanket runs, working you ragged while I relax… Sound like fun?" She began walking out, and he lagged behind a moment.
He whispered a single word, almost as though the thought couldn't be contained, so quietly she almost didn't hear. "Yes." But Kate did, smiling down at the floor, before schooling her face as she heard him approach quickly behind her.
"Oh, Castle, you're so going to regret this offer. According to everyone I know, I apparently become a terrible witch of a person when sick. This one time…"
The elevator doors closed, Beckett's voice abruptly gone from the Homicide floor.
Ryan and Esposito turned to each other, before Ryan spoke. "Does she realize she never told us she was going home for the night?"
"More importantly, does she realize she just invited Castle over to spend the night waiting on her hand and foot? Damn, that boy's in love."
"He's totally going to make a move."
"Ugh, gross. That's Mom and Dad you're talking about!" The boys turned to each other, grabbing their coats, and burst out laughing, their parent joke never getting old.
Esposito smiled, "Let's hope not. I really don't want Martha to win the pot, and she'd be the closest one. Two more weeks, damn it, so I can win!"
The two men entered the elevator, as Ryan said, "I still can't believe you took Christmas Day! I wanted that one. I had to settle for freaking New Years. They're never going to last to New Years, " he grumbled, his face disappointed.