Kate wasn't big on travel. Not that she didn't like it, no. Firstly, her job never allowed her to travel if it wasn't for a case outside of the city, and she had no time to spend wherever she was before her next case was already in a case file on her lap. Secondly, well, everything. Lines, bad food, kids crying, and the fact that she had hours of time to lengthen the list. She had gotten here two hours early, for once, and her flight was delayed by hours. She first stepped into the airport at 10 am that morning, and it was approaching 2 pm.
She had a headache, and nothing to dull it. Whenever she got any news about the flight, it wasn't good. Last time she heard anything, the plane had been delayed by hours. It wasn't even in the air, but waiting in an airport somewhere in DC to be cleared for flight. So she was watching her luggage and sitting on one of the most uncomfortable chairs she'd ever sat in. It felt like sitting on cardboard. She might as well just be sitting on the floor.
She stands, pulling up the handle of her luggage. It's been far too long, and she needs a drink. She's technically off duty, anyway.
He lasted about ten minutes before he was bored. He expected to be in the airport for maybe an hour, tops. He wishes he'd taken Gina up on her offer for a private jet. Even if he did have to pay for it, he'd rather be at his destination already, rather than replaying the level of Angry Birds he's already beaten a hundred times before. Alexis is at school so he can't talk to her, and no one else he knows is really worth talking to right now.
He's been at the bar for a few minutes now, carefully sipping on his drink and eating the hamburger he got from the closest restaurant to his seat. He certainly doesn't want to get drunk, but if he wants to keep sitting in the bar stool - with the most comfortable cushions in the whole damned place, he might add - he has to be nursing a drink from the place.
He'd gotten a beer. He was bored out of his mind. He knew it looked pretty stupid - middle aged man, sitting alone drinking a beer at an airport bar playing Angry Birds on his phone. It was supposed to be his last book tour, Storm was dead and he had no idea what he was going to do career wise. So maybe he was stalling, but Gina nor Paula had called him out on it, and he was forever thankful. Or at least thankful for now. When they started nagging him about it? Oh, he couldn't wait.
He finished his food. Kept at his beer.
A voice sounded over the PA system. Flight QFA18 is estimated to arrive at JFK International Airport in one hour.
The same voice repeats the same message, and then continues with other flight news.
He's been paying so much attention to the patrons on the other side of the bar that he completely misses the beautiful woman that's beside him until she speaks.
"Is this seat taken?"
No he thinks, looking right at her. The bar stools are quite tall, and she's wearing heels. Stilettos. And he's staring right into her eyes when he manages to stop his unconscious elevator stare. The words don't come when he wills them to, so he just gestures to the seat next to him.
"Nope," he manages, voice a failing thing. She orders herself a shot. Of vodka. "Pretty daring taking that before a flight. Got nowhere to be?"
She doesn't answer immediately, instead wipes her hands - which are already dry, he might add - on her pants and then turns to face him. "Care to join me?"
She flags down the bartender and gets him a shot of what she's having. He finishes his beer, no point of having two drinks. She tips the shot glass back, swallows. He can't help but stare at her neck. Damn. And she doesn't even wince.
She gets her second and he takes his straight, all at once. She sips hers slowly. He hasn't had vodka in a while, can start feeling the affects of it already. Usually it only takes five shots before he's drunk, so he puts is glass down, unsure of what to get next, if anything at all. "Where you headed?"
She takes a second to answer, and the bartender has already given her another glass. She's on her third now, but obviously reluctant to drink it. "LA. You?"
He could laugh. Or maybe cry. "Flight QFA18?" He mocks the man on the PA from earlier, can't help it. "Me too."
He doesn't laugh but she does. "How long have you been waiting?"
"Only," he says, checking his watch dramatically, "about two hours. Thank God the flight is going to be here in an hour. Probably wouldn't survive another minute in here if that announcement didn't come on."
"So what, you would've gone home?" She laughs again.
"I wish. Have to be in LA before tomorrow, don't wanna risk it. You going there for business too?" Or pleasure?
He didn't know what his mother or Alexis were talking about. He definitely had a filter. He could definitely use it. "Yeah. What do you do for a living?"
"Write. What about you?" He so interested. He can't help it. She's just about the most intriguing person he's ever met. Drinking almost enough to get herself drunk for a flight she's taking for work. Daring. He loves it. Or maybe his life is just boring.
"Professionally?" So, she doesn't want to talk about herself or she wants to know about him. "Anything I may have heard of?"
"Yes and probably not," he says, shrugging. He doesn't want her to press the issue and he hopes she'll realize that he doesn't want to talk about this, just like she didn't want to talk about herself.
"Don't seem so sure of yourself there, writer boy," she says, voice dropping to a level only he can hear. God, he's not going to live to board that flight. Not that it would be a bad way to go.
"If you're already setting yourself on pet names, honey, I think I'll pass on answering your questions if you won't answer mine."
She recoils almost immediately, drinks the rest of her shot. Three down.
"I work in DC. Fly a lot for work. Been a year since I started. Still haven't gotten used to it."
She definitely doesn't share these things on a regular basis; he's sure the liquid courage had something to do with it.
He thinks of getting her something for the headache she's sure to have - he has one too - but she's nearing tipsy and aspirin won't help that fact. She looks up for the bartender, who is tending to some lost souls on the other side of the bar. She raises her hand as the man turns but he pushes it down so that the bartender doesn't notice it and continues to talk to the people there, while wiping down the counter top.
"You've had enough, haven't you?" He really doesn't have a right, doesn't even know her name, but he feels the need to at least stop her from making this obvious mistake. He knows it must not feel like one to her. Hell, he doesn't feel too hot either now.
When they had started talking, their flight was expected to get to JFK in fifteen minutes. He's only reminded of this when he hears the now familiar voice of the announcer.
Flight QFA18 is now boarding.
He knows he won't be sitting next to her. He's in first class.
She starts to stand up, wobbles a little bit at first. He could laugh. She's in heels. He doesn't. She quickly regains her composure, briskly walking away from him.
"Hey, wait! At least tell me your name?"
She stops, uncertain. But then she turns around, gives him the smallest hint of a seductive smile. She marches back to him, so normally he's left wondering where all those drinks went. She leans in towards him. "It's Kate."
She bites her lip while backing away, staring at his lips for half a second. Or at least he thinks so. His eyes were on her lips.
And she saunters away.
Later, she finds herself balancing on the line of regret and exhilaration, so focused until she hears the flight attendant's voice.
"Excuse me, Agent Beckett, you've been upgraded to first class."
Maybe she should question it, but she's too desperate to get away from the crying babies and the seats that are too small, causing her to brush shoulders with her neighbor every time she tries to move.
And when she turns to see who she's going to be sitting beside, she finds she's pleasantly surprised when she sees Richard Castle, smug grin on his face and two glasses of champagne in his hands.
"Champagne?"
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