Love the Skies I'm Under
Post-8x04, spoilers for season 8
Rated T
Inviting his own wife out for an hour or two shouldn't make him this nervous, but after everything that's happened in the last month, there's no other way to describe his uneasiness. It's a risk he's taking, a chance.
He's sure she'll say no anyway, either by ignoring his text altogether or with yet another reminder of their circumstances and her out of the blue request for space. Still, he has to try. He has to hope she'll indulge him at least once.
"How'd you know where I'm staying?"
He's not surprised she managed to approach without him knowing. His game has been off since hit squads and "needing space" jumped onto their radar, his head thrown a little more out of whack than usual. He tries to be attentive when he needs to tail someone for his business, but the rest of the time, he exists in a relative fog.
Straightening his shoulders, he offers her the mug as he takes in her baggy sleep pants and the burgundy t-shirt she'd stolen from him long before they were ever something more than a fantasy of his. Her hair's been scraped back in a messy ponytail, the way she keeps it as she pours over case notes at his desk late at night, her knee drawn into the chair with her.
Somehow, she manages to look cozy, tired, and guarded all at the same time.
Fuck, he misses her.
"I'm a P.I., remember? I can find things out."
"Castle," she chides, voice strained. In spite of that, she sips his offering.
Okay, he can work with that. She hasn't bolted or told him to go, and she's drinking his coffee. He can work with that.
"Your coffee cup in the mornings," he explains, lifting a shoulder. "Not our usual, not a chain. It was pretty easy to narrow it down once I saw which hotels were nearby."
Kate ahhs, pursing her lips quickly. He'll pretend she's a little bit impressed with his pseudo-detective work. "So did you just know, or did you have to Goldilocks it?"
Castle scoffs. "Please, Beckett. A five-star you wouldn't even look at twice because you know it's the first place I'd go, an extended stay with the promise of bed bugs and roach larvae, or a middle of the road, no-frills three-star. Efficient, useful, nothing else. I think I know you well enough to know which one you'd choose."
She nods in concession, but he takes no real pride in his victory. He does know her, and that makes it even more difficult to be here right now.
"So… you had something you wanted to show me?"
"Ah, yeah, yes. Would you -" he stops, gesturing a bit wildly to the car. "We could walk, but this is quicker at this time of night."
His wife's eyes narrow. "Castle –"
"Pretend I'm your Hytch driver, then, not your husband. You don't even have to talk to me, or pay me. Just come with me, please?"
"It's late," she hedges, looking over her shoulder at the entrance to her intentionally non-descript hotel. "I have to be at work in six hours."
"It won't take long," he promises, knowing he's starting to sound more than a little bit desperate. He doesn't want to go back to their empty bed – or to the couch in his P.I. office because the silence in their room has become too overwhelming – without showing her this. "Just… give me an hour at the most. Please."
Years with this woman have taught him her tells, so when her teeth drag over her lower lip and her eyes dart from his, he knows her next move will be a nod of acquiescence and a purposeful stride forward.
"Fine," she adds, almost as an afterthought, tugging at the passenger door handle and slipping into her seat.
Yes. This is… yes. Progress.
It's a short drive, just a few blocks and a turn into a parking garage, but the silence isn't heavy the way it was the last time they were alone in a car together. He takes that as a good sign, too.
He knows just by the change in her breathing that she knows where they are. They both remember the address; they both remember sharing kisses in a parking space one row over, unable to curb the giddy, intoxicating joy long enough to go home.
"Come on, we'll be quick," he says, killing the engine and pocketing his keys before she has a chance to back out on him.
Truthfully, he doesn't know what he's trying to accomplish tonight, he just wants her with him when he sees it.
The place they were going to get married.
The gorgeous rooftop venue that ended up becoming a skylight thanks to a circus.
"I thought they'd decided to renovate the entire place," Kate murmurs as they walk to the elevator bank. The soft slap of her ballet flats tells him she's just a half-stride behind him, following his lead.
"They did. Apparently they finished last month and have been calling everyone whose events were impacted by the 'unfortunate incident' to try to entice them to re-book."
Her eyes shoot upward, a bit wild and panicked. Maybe not panicked, startled. "And you… what'd you tell them?"
"Nothing. I just wanted to see it. See what they've changed. What they've improved."
A part of him had considered re-booking, even trying to re-create their doomed wedding in order to show her how easily they can be them again, but he hadn't. He'd just asked if it would be possible to bring his wife to look before they made any decisions.
She deflates with his answer, following him onto the elevator and leaning against the far wall as he hits the button for the proper floor.
"Hopefully one of said improvements is their compliance with fire codes," she mutters after they've started to move, quirking her lips when he snickers.
"That was the first thing I asked them actually."
Her smile widens, and for one of the first times in weeks, she doesn't try to hide it from him. His chest expands with it, with the knowledge that they're still in there somewhere.
"Of course."
"They laughed, at least." Rick lifts a shoulder, tucking his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her. "Anyway, I asked for after hours access, and since we did lose a rather sizeable deposit when the roof caught fire, they were more than agreeable to it. And here we are."
"Here we are," she echoes, mirth fading into the space between them. His own smile slides from his lips as she looks away.
"I just… thought you might like to see it."
She nods, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thanks."
She's first out of the elevator when it stops, but she waits for him to join her before they make their way to the part of the building with roof access.
The last time they were here, her arm was linked with his, her fingers warm against his bicep. Every time they stopped to admire something, her cheek would dip to his shoulder. Tonight there's enough space for their original tour guide between them.
But she's here, and that counts for something.
"So far so good," he remarks, taking in the fresh paint and new carpet before opening the door to the roof for her.
"Yeah," she agrees, glancing back at him in thanks. "It's hard to believe there was ever damage."
He hums, watching her eyes sweep both sides of the building before she takes a few measured steps to give him room to follow. Whether the vigilance is a product of the late hour or something else, he has no idea, but he won't mention it. Instead, he watches her face as she finally takes it all in.
The décor is different, a little more modern than it was before, but underneath the fierce metal lines, he sees the whimsy that had enamored his then-fiancée. Kate must, too, because a smile flirts at her lips as her fingers trail over one of the awning supports on her way to the other side of the rooftop.
The bustle of the city at their feet is exactly the way he remembers from the day they toured, but oh, the view is what captivates him all over again. Lights everywhere, blues and greens, reds and pinks, all burning brightly for them to see.
"Wow." It's barely a whisper on the wind, but he hears it all the same.
"Yeah." His focus turns to her, to the way the wind whips her hair, to the way her shoulders have relaxed, no longer hunched close to her ears. This is helping her. Just being here is helping her.
And by extension, it's helping him.
"I'd forgotten how spectacular it was up here."
There's no mistaking the way his eyes sweep down her body and back up, barely offering the skyline a glance. But his wife just smiles and lowers her chin to hide from his gaze.
"It is spectacular," he rumbles, watching her pull her lip between her teeth. She's clearly thinking, clearly weighing options she hasn't yet decided to share, but he doesn't ask. He won't.
He's not very good at staying away, but he can at least be silent for her.
"Ours was better, though," she exhales finally, reaching a hand out to him as her head lifts once more. Her eyes hold fire once more, and he fights to quiet the hopeful stutter of his heart, the part of him that believes they're almost on the right path again. "Ours was perfect."