Disclaimer: All things Castle belong to ABC & Co.
Author's Note: This fic sort of ended up running away from me, becoming longer than I ever expected so feel free to take your time reading it. The one-shot sequel to "Because You Were Gone."
For mobazan27, who asked for smut.
Something Real
She was going on a date with Richard Castle.
Kate caught the smile flirting with the edges of her lips and it took her a moment to identify the feeling bubbling up inside her. Anticipation. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt such a thrill of hope for a date. (So Lanie might have a point about her not having a life outside of work.)
But the anticipation wasn't for 'Richard Castle,' not the persona he played.
No, she was hopeful, happy, because she was going on a date with Castle. The man who brought her coffee most mornings. The man who had told the entire world he thought she was extraordinary. The man who was such a devoted father. The man who challenged her and made her smile and made her work more fun.
The man she thought she could actually fall for.
She surveyed herself in the mirror, allowing herself a moment of self-satisfaction. He would like this dress, a relatively simple red one-shoulder cocktail dress that skimmed her figure nicely. She had a mental image of Castle kissing her neck, tracing his lips along her bare shoulder, and felt a jolt of desire, heat simmering in her veins.
Not that she was planning for the evening to end with anything more than kisses. She didn't usually fall into bed with a man on a first date.
But then again, she wasn't not planning for that either because this wasn't just a regular first date. At least, it didn't feel like it. Because she already liked him. A lot.
This date would just be confirmation, or something, that they could make this… attraction between them work, that they could fit together outside of the work context. That, in spite of their outward differences, in spite of the fact that he was a famous multi-millionaire and she was just a cop, this friendship—or partnership could turn into something more, something real.
She wasn't a risk-taker in her personal life, not anymore, but with Castle, she wanted to try.
Part of her couldn't quite believe it—how had the annoying thorn in her side somehow become a man she wanted to try for something real with, a man who had her primping in front of the mirror because she wanted to impress him?
Except she knew how it had happened. It was because of the way he'd apologized for hurting her, because of the way he brought her coffee, because of the way he made her smile and laugh, because of the way he acted around Alexis, because of the way he'd shown that he had a kinder, more generous heart than she'd ever given him credit for having.
Yes, she was hopeful that this first date would be the start of something real, something good.
A knock heralded Castle's arrival and Kate's heart promptly started to rabbit around in her chest.
Damn it, get a grip, Kate!
She was a grown woman and a homicide detective, not some teenage girl going all fluttery over a first date.
Her stern admonition wasn't helped by the sight of Castle standing at her door, looking good enough to make her body heat, her mouth go dry, just at the sight of him—damn but the man did look good in a suit—holding a bouquet of flowers.
His eyes skimmed down her figure and then up again, his jaw going somewhat slack. "Wow," he blurted out in lieu of a greeting.
She suppressed a smile. "Hey, Castle. Are those for me?" She made a gesture to indicate the flowers, making him glance down, blinking at them for a split second as if he couldn't remember what they were or what he was doing with them. A little thrill wriggled through her at how she'd apparently managed to make Richard Castle, playboy man about town, lose his train of thought so completely.
And then he looked back up at her, a faintly sheepish smile on his lips. "Uh, yeah, these are for you." He was… cute when he was flustered.
"Thanks," she murmured, something inside her softening a little. When was the last time a man had bought her flowers? On the thought, she remembered—it had been Will, on their first (and only) Valentine's Day together. Almost two years ago now.
Oh. The memory of Will calmed the butterflies as she retreated into the kitchen and put the flowers into a vase. She had thought her relationship with Will was going somewhere too.
Castle wasn't Will. Castle had turned down the offer to write Bond in order to write more Nikki Heat instead. And Will had been serious, methodical, practical. It was just… different with Castle.
She returned to the main room of her apartment with the flowers, placing them on the table. "They look nice. Thanks," she offered again, a little lamely, suddenly self-conscious.
"You're welcome."
He looked a little off, unlike himself, though the smile he offered her was genuine enough.
There was a brief, uncomfortable silence as they exchanged small smiles and Kate felt a little niggle of worry. Because this was almost excruciatingly awkward.
Never mind, she told herself. It was just the beginning of the evening. Of course it would be a little awkward at first. After all, the start of most first dates were a little awkward. And she and Castle weren't exactly used to spending time together outside of work as it was. They just needed to adjust to this new dynamic between them. She needed to adjust to dealing with Castle without her work and her badge to hide behind. That was all.
So she told herself as she shrugged into her jacket and picked up her clutch. "I'm ready now."
"Right. I have a car waiting." He ushered her out of her apartment, his hand briefly resting on her back. "You look beautiful, by the way."
She smiled, a happy little butterfly taking flight in her chest. "Thanks. You don't look that bad yourself," she added teasingly.
As she'd expected, hoped, the prod to his ego seemed to snap him out of his little funk as he puffed up in mock indignation. "Not that bad! I'll have you know that I'm ruggedly handsome, Beckett."
She relaxed a little, allowing herself a snicker. That was more like the Castle she knew and—liked. This Castle she knew how to deal with. "No, what you are is very vain."
"It's not vanity if it's true," he sniffed with exaggerated superiority.
"Maybe in the delusions of your mind," she shot back.
"I think you should be nicer to me when I just bought you flowers," he pretended to pout.
"Bribing a cop is illegal, you know."
"It's not bribery. It's flattery."
She laughed almost in spite of herself. This was what Castle did too; he made her laugh.
They stepped outside and her steps faltered imperceptibly. At least, she hoped it was imperceptible. Because Castle hadn't been kidding when he'd said he had a car waiting. She'd assumed he meant a cab but no, he meant a luxurious town car with—no kidding—a uniformed driver waiting to open the door for them.
So this was what it was like to go on a date with a multi-millionaire.
"Beckett, this is Derek," Castle introduced the driver as he opened the door with a smile and a nod. "Derek, Detective Beckett."
Kate managed a brief smile, trying to look as if she was accustomed to having a private chauffeur. "Hi, Derek."
"Good evening, Detective."
Kate slid inside the car, noting the privacy screen between them and Derek. No luxury spared. She supposed she should just be thankful Castle hadn't hired an actual limo.
Once seated, Kate promptly shot Castle her best teasing smile. She refused to seem as if she were bowled over or intimidated or anything. Even if she was. A little. She was a cop, damn it. She was not impressed by super-rich people or their lifestyle. "So, Castle, admit it, did you hire Derek just because he shares a name with your most famous character?"
Castle laughed. "I wish I could take credit for that but no, it's just a coincidence, I swear. I got a kick out of it when I met him too."
"Nice coincidence."
"I know. What are the chances, right?"
"Maybe the car company's dispatcher is a fan," she suggested lightly.
"Well, I do have a lot of fans," he agreed with mock smugness.
She rolled her eyes. "I take it back. A coincidence is more likely."
He smirked. "Nope, I like your fan-paying-a-tribute theory better."
"You would."
"Want me to try to find out?"
"I think I'm okay with not knowing," she told him dryly and felt herself relaxing against the smooth leather of the car seat, the familiar teasing restoring her to herself. Her hand dropped to rest on the seat and then, not quite idly, she let her fingers shift over to flirt with his.
His teasing response hitched just a little as his fingers engaged in a half-playful battle trying to trap her hand against the seat. The battle finally ended on something of a truce as their fingers interlocked and stayed that way.
She turned her head to look out the window to hide the small smile that escaped. This she could definitely do, their usual banter along with some hand-holding.
It wasn't long before the car pulled to a stop outside of the restaurant, a swanky, not to say ostentatious, place that even she had heard of as being both expensive and exclusive, the sort of place that most people needed to try to reserve up to a year in advance, assuming they could afford it in the first place. It was exactly the sort of place she would have expected Richard Castle, millionaire celebrity author, to bring a date.
Kate felt another flicker of nerves at the thought. This sort of place was miles removed from her normal life, it might as well have been in a different country.
"Beckett?"
She blinked to see Castle holding out a hand for her. "Yeah, sorry, got distracted. Trying to remember what I've heard about this place."
"It's pretty popular," Castle commented as he ushered her inside.
Pretty popular was a severe understatement. The restaurant was packed, every seat appearing to be taken by stylishly and expensively dressed diners, the air filled with a cacophony of sound, a discordant chorus made up of the buzz of voices and laughter, the clash of silverware, the occasional pop of a cork.
Castle was, predictably she supposed, greeted familiarly by the maître d' and they were almost immediately shown to a table off by the side of the room, allowing at least a makeshift nod to privacy on one side. Thankfully, as otherwise the noise level in the place was enough that Kate suspected they would practically have to shout to be heard.
She took one look at the menu and schooled her expression into nonchalance. Oh. Well, this was yet more proof that this wasn't the sort of restaurant she was used to. There were no prices on it. She supposed because if you needed to ask what the prices were, you probably couldn't afford to be eating here to begin with?
She looked up at Castle, trying for a bland expression. "Have you been here before?"
"A couple times, yeah."
"Any recommendations?"
"The duck is good and so is the risotto. Or if you're in the mood for seafood, the salmon is good too."
Castle ordered wine and they placed orders for their food and then a brief pause fell. Silent except for the general noise level around them. It rather surprised Kate since Castle was rarely silent but it seemed he, too, was at something of a loss for how to start a real conversation that wasn't about casework.
And most of this evening had so far seemed designed to remind Kate of all the differences between her and Castle, that made them seem like a mismatch on paper, from the restaurant to the hired car and driver.
The thought of the driver did remind her of something she had wanted to ask him. She leaned forward a little in an attempt to avoid having to raise her voice. "Say, Castle, can I ask you something?"
"Shoot. Well, not literally," he digressed, because of course he would. "Assuming you even have your gun with you."
She shot him a smirk. "That's for me to know and you to wonder so behave, Castle."
That made him laugh. "Consider me warned. What did you want to ask?"
"Why did you kill off Derrick Storm?" It was something she'd wanted to ask him since reading Storm Fall and never quite dared because of how much it would reveal about her familiarity with and interest in his books. But now, well, he knew she read his books and she knew he wasn't quite as much of a cocky jackass as he occasionally seemed.
His eyes widened a little in surprise. "That's what you want to know?"
"Yes. Derek the driver reminded me of it. I mean, you wrote, what, around 10 books about Storm and then out of the blue you decide to kill off your most successful character?" So he'd written 12 books on Derrick Storm but she wasn't admitting to knowing that off the top of her head.
"12 books," he corrected (of course), "but who's counting?"
"Stop stalling, Castle, and answer the question."
He lifted his shoulders a little. "Short answer, I killed him because I was bored."
She sat back. Because he was bored? He'd killed off what had been a great character because he was bored? Would he do the same for Nikki Heat in the future?
She felt a little chill wriggle through her. Because it wasn't just about Nikki Heat, was it? Was that what he did, discard women too if he got bored with them?
"You were bored," she repeated.
He grimaced. "Basically, yes. What I mean is, there was no mystery left to the character, no excitement. I knew everything there was to know about him, what he would do or say in any given situation. It was predictable. Boring."
"Aren't you supposed to know everything about him? You did create him, after all."
"Not in that way." It was his turn to lean forward, something sparking in his eyes. "See, when I write, I have a general plan for what's going to happen but what makes it fun is that the characters end up taking on a life of their own. What I try to do in my stories is explore characters, what makes people tick, but with Derrick Storm, he'd stopped being interesting because there wasn't enough depth to the character. There was only so much to be said about him before it started to be Derrick Storm doing the same old things to save the world."
Oh. A little zing darted through her. She liked him like this, so intense and serious, passionate. She liked watching his mind work, both in solving cases and in writing. And she'd never heard him speak at such length about his writing. (She was hearing her favorite living author talk about his writing process.)
"Writing Storm had gotten to be too predictable and I wanted more than that. I wanted something different, something challenging." He met her eyes and something about his expression reminded her of what he'd said about Nikki Heat. I'm pretty sure I could write 50 books about the character and still not have explored the character fully.
She felt herself flush, ridiculously, just from the look in his eyes.
At that opportune (or not) moment, they were interrupted as the server returned with their wine.
Kate lifted her glass. "Cheers, Castle."
Castle made a mock face. "Why, Beckett, how uncreative of you."
She raised her eyebrows at him. "Well, writer boy, you make the toast then."
He nodded with exaggerated solemnity as he lifted his glass. "Here's to… new beginnings."
She scoffed, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Really, just that? Come on, Castle, I was at least expecting a rhyme, maybe even a haiku."
"Fine." He lifted his glass higher, declaiming dramatically, "'Here's to our prosperity. Our good health and happiness. And most important, to life, to life, l'chaim.'"
She laughed. "Stealing from Fiddler on the Roof? Not very creative of you."
"It's a good toast. What better things to toast to than good health and happiness?"
She lifted her glass. "Fair point. To health and happiness, then."
He returned her smile, taking a sip of his wine. "So, anyway, does that answer your question about why I killed off Derrick Storm? I decided to get rid of him before the books became boring and formulaic."
"I can understand that," she conceded. "Sometimes making a change is necessary to avoid getting stuck in a rut."
"Exactly." He gave her one of his familiar smirks. "And so far, I'd say it's worked out pretty well for me."
She suppressed a smile. "Oh, I think the jury's still out on that," she quipped.
"I—"
But whatever he'd been about to say was lost as it was interrupted by something halfway between a squeal and a shriek. "Ricky!"
They both started and looked up to see a young Barbie-doll lookalike of a woman in a skin-tight dress weave her way between the tables to them.
Kate glanced at Castle to see him grimace before he promptly pasted on a smile she recognized from his book launch party, his charming publicity smile, as he stood up to greet the woman.
"Tanya, hi."
"It's been such a long time, Ricky," the woman cooed, latching onto Castle's arm and tugging him down to plant a smacking kiss on his cheek and afterwards, pressing her breast against his arm.
Castle twitched but short of forcibly pushing her off, was a little stuck. "How are you, Tanya?"
"I'm good, Ricky. You haven't come to see me in my new show."
"Uh, yeah, I've been busy, sorry." He did not, Kate noticed, make any promises about going to see her show. Castle managed to get free of Tanya's grasp on his arm by the expedient of bending to take a sip of his water and then placing his hand on Kate's shoulder. "Tanya, this is Detective Kate Beckett. We work together. Kate, this is Tanya Rawlings. She's Judge Rawlings's daughter. Have you met Judge Rawlings?"
His hand was very warm on her bare shoulder. She forced a smile for the woman. "Nice to meet you. I do know Judge Rawlings." He had signed a few warrants for her.
"Oh so you're a cop?" Tanya's tone exuded disinterest and not a little condescension, making Kate's spine stiffen. She felt Castle's hand tense slightly on her shoulder.
"How are your parents doing?" Castle interjected, rather loudly.
"Oh, they're fine, Ricky. They just got back from a trip to the Caribbean."
"Say hello to your parents for me."
"You should come by for dinner so you can talk to them yourself. You know we always love to see you, Ricky."
"I'm pretty busy these days but I'll think about it."
His tone indicated that he meant no such thing but the assurance seemed to satisfy Tanya, who gushed her delight, reached up to pat Castle's cheek, before she spotted her party of friends and finally left.
Castle resumed his seat and gave her an apologetic grimace. "Sorry about that."
Kate raised her eyebrows at him. "A friend of yours, I take it."
"Not exactly. I'm friends with her parents. She's stage struck and so mostly as a favor to her dad, I asked my mother to put in a good word for her, help her to get a role or two."
"She certainly seems very grateful," she observed dryly.
"I've known her since she was in high school and she's always been… outgoing," he finished. That was one way of putting it.
"Very diplomatic of you," she teased mildly.
He shrugged a little. "I'm friends with her dad." Which, she supposed, was explanation enough.
Their food arrived at that moment and Kate eyed the plates with a dubiousness she tried to hide. The portions were maybe large enough to feed a child. A skinny child. A skinny child who'd already eaten a snack beforehand.
She managed a smile. "This looks almost too pretty to eat." Which was true enough. She couldn't fault the presentation. Her risotto, what little there was of it, was artfully arranged on her plate and the garnish was a work of art that wouldn't have looked out of place in a museum.
"Yeah, they go all out with the presentation here," Castle agreed. "Well, enjoy."
Silence fell as they each started to eat and Kate was momentarily thankful for the excuse. The reprieve? She couldn't quite think of a way to start a real conversation that didn't revolve around casework and it wasn't as if they had an active case right now anyway, not helped by the fact that the noise level in the restaurant was making it hard to think clearly. And if the silence on his end was any indication, he was at as much of a loss as she was.
"How are Alexis and Martha?" she finally blurted out.
"They're fine." That, at least, had his expression brightening, softening in that way that usually happened when he spoke about Alexis. "My mother's been out a lot recently since she reconnected with her old high school sweetheart. And Alexis just aced a chemistry test. She says hello, by the way."
"Good for Alexis and tell her I say hello too."
His expression brightened further. "Yeah, she's a smarty pants. I think she's going to get straight A's again this semes—"
"Rick, hi."
Not again.
Castle swiveled around to face the new interruption, this one in the form of a man who struck Kate as being vaguely familiar but she couldn't place from where.
"Long time no see, Rick. I thought I'd come by to say hello."
"Hey, Eddie," Castle greeted, standing up to shake the man's hand. "Good to see you."
"Yeah, you too. How've you been? And who's your pretty friend?"
"This is Detective Kate Beckett. We work together. Beckett, Eddie Lundquist."
"Nice to meet you, Detective."
"It's a pleasure," Kate smiled. The name triggered the memory. He was a former hockey player for the Rangers, who'd retired a couple years ago. "I once saw a game of yours in Madison Square Garden. You scored a few goals."
Eddie grinned. "Those were the days. It's nice to know someone besides me remembers them," he joked. He elbowed Castle teasingly. "What's a troublemaker like you doing working with the cops?"
"Trying to stay out of trouble," Castle quipped. "But I'm helpful! Aren't I, Beckett?"
"He is helpful," Kate parroted blandly.
"Sure he is. Anyway, I don't want to keep you from your dinners but I wanted to say hi. And Rick, tell Bob he owes me 20 bucks next time you talk to him."
"See you around, Eddie."
Castle resumed his seat as Eddie left. "Sorry. Uh, what were we talking about?"
Very little. "How's your food?" she asked instead.
"Oh, great. Yours?"
She forced a smile and infused her voice with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. "Delicious, thanks."
It wasn't entirely a lie. She was reasonably sure her risotto was good; it wasn't the food's fault that the risotto seemed to take on all the consistency and flavor of sawdust in her mouth. She nibbled at it, focusing her eyes on her plate as she felt her heart descending into the pit of her stomach.
This wasn't working. None of this was.
Castle was quiet, too quiet. She'd never imagined that a meal with Castle could be so quiet but there it was. Without casework or his books to talk about, they seemed to have hit an embargo on conversational topics. She was an inch away from commenting on the weather.
And more, Castle himself was just… different. Not only was he barely talking, he wasn't flirting, wasn't eyeing her, wasn't trying to touch her. His occasional smiles were tight and didn't reach his eyes.
She tried again, a bland question to ask how he knew Eddie Lundquist, and he answered but then lapsed into silence again, making a production of cutting up his steak.
What was worse was that she remembered the way Castle acted at his book launch parties, the way he'd smiled and flirted and generally charmed his fans. He was Richard Castle, millionaire playboy—but for her, with her, right now, he wasn't even trying.
He was—what? Bored already? Realizing that she didn't fit into his multimillionaire life, his simpering celebutante fans, his celebrity friends?
She was just a cop. Her entire yearly salary was pocket change to him. She actually had to work for a living (did nothing else but work, Lanie's voice interjected in her mind).
We work together—that was how he'd introduced her to both Tanya and Eddie. Nothing more. He hadn't said she was his date or his partner or his girlfriend (well, okay, that last one was understandable because this was only their first date) but still. We work together. The words suddenly struck her as off-putting. Was that how he thought of her—a colleague with benefits? (Not that the benefits part was ever going to happen. Not after tonight.)
She took a drink of her wine and resisted the impulse to gulp it down. Never mind. She could just go home, have a drink or two (or three), dump his books into a box, and curl up in her bed. And scrub from her mind the memory of his kisses and more, scrub from her heart—no, not her heart, her heart had nothing to do with it—the memory of his words and the way he brought her coffee and the way he'd looked at her sometimes and…
She'd be fine. And he didn't need to know anything different. She'd only kissed him a few times and that could just be written off as teasing, flirting, just a game. Just like it had been to him. She would just forget the way she'd hoped for a little while that this could be the start of something good.
It had been stupid of her anyway.
She should never have let him in at all, never have let him worm his way into her life with his eyes and his smiles and his humor. Never have started to think that maybe they could be something real.
He didn't do real. And she was fine on her own. She didn't want him, she certainly didn't need him, and she hadn't been falling for him anyway. She was just fine!
She took another drink of wine and then realized belatedly as she stabbed her fork at her plate that she'd finished up her food. Damn, no more reason to keep her eyes focused on her plate.
She pushed the garnish around on her plate, rearranging it.
"You… uh… finished now?" he ventured.
She valiantly suppressed the urge to make a sarcastic retort and instead answered, succinctly, "Yes."
Something flickered across his face. "Right, let's get out of here." He lifted a hand to signal for a waiter, requesting the check, and then shut his eyes for a moment before sighing and meeting her eyes. "I'm… uh… sorry about this, Beckett. This was a mistake."
A mistake. Yeah, she'd known that already. Hurt sank its claws deep, telling her if she'd needed it just how much she'd… hoped, started to care… and she lashed out, anger providing a welcome refuge. "Yeah, I figured but you were the one who asked me out. No one made you go slumming it by taking out a lowly cop," she hissed.
His eyes widened with convincing horror. "Wha-at?! Is that—I didn't—oh my god, Beckett, is that what you think?"
"Yes?" It came out uncertainly, realization beginning to dawn just from the expression on his face that she might have misread the entire situation.
"Oh my god, no, that wasn't what I meant at all," he blurted out in a rush. "God, Beckett, I—" he seemed to run out of words in his panicked dismay and instead closed his hand around hers, bringing her hand up to kiss her fingers quickly, sending a little jolt of sensation streaking through her hand.
Hope sprouted up inside her chest.
"Oh. What did you mean?"
"I meant—" He broke off as the waiter returned with the check and he barely glanced at it before dropping a couple bills on the table. He pushed himself to his feet and offered his hand to her. "Can we get out of here?"
She took his hand. "Yes, let's." They needed to talk, for real, and this restaurant was too loud anyway.
He led the way out of the restaurant, his steps rapid and sure, and then, once they'd regained the sidewalk, glanced around and then tugged her a little ways down the block, stepping into a side alley, providing some privacy.
"Castle, what—"
Her words were cut off by his lips as he cupped her cheeks with his hands and kissed her, deep and thoroughly, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. Kissed her until she sagged against him, any lingering disappointment and hurt dissipating entirely along with any thoughts not focused on him, the passion of his kiss.
Oh, that cleared up any doubts about how interested he still was.
He drew back slowly and she had to blink a few times to clear her hazy thoughts.
"Oh," was all she was able to sigh.
The ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips and she tried—really—not to get distracted by his mouth.
"What I meant," he began quietly, "was that the restaurant was a mistake. I should've—I just…" His hands dropped from her cheeks, one running through his hair, before he met her eyes again. "It's the sort of place I'd normally take someone on a first date, the sort of place that impresses a lot of women, the sort of place you go to see and be seen. But you're different, you don't care about that sort of thing. You're better, you're real. And I guess I… forgot or something, just fell back into old habit. I made a mistake. I realized that the moment we arrived but I figured we could stick it out and how bad could it be?" He shrugged a little, made a self-deprecating grimace. "Obviously, I was wrong, the atmosphere, the interruptions, everything. I'm sorry."
She was beginning to think she'd never be able to stay annoyed at him for long. Not when he looked at her with his blue eyes filled with regret and apology. "Well, you are kinda famous," she quipped mildly.
The tease had him brightening even as he made a show of bridling. "Kind of?"
She nudged him. "What about the not-talking thing? I didn't even know you could be that quiet," she added teasingly.
He made a face. "I tend to babble when I'm nervous and I didn't want to do that with you, was afraid I'd accidentally say something stupid, to make you hate me or something, so I thought it was safer to talk less rather than more. And I didn't want to make you think this was about doing more character research or resort to talking about the weather or something like that. I was trying to be… careful but I didn't think it through enough."
She could never hate him. She left that unsaid, only tucked the knowledge away, along with her burgeoning understanding. She really had misunderstood everything. She'd taken his silence as disinterest, interpreting his actions through the lens of her own insecurities. And she had, she realized, rather inconsistently, expected him to act like his Richard Castle persona even knowing that it was fake and then blamed him when he didn't. Of course he could have engaged in his flirtatious patter, as he would have with any other woman, but he hadn't wanted to do that with her. Because, as he'd said, she was real. And he'd wanted to be real with her but he'd been nervous. Because he cared.
They had both made mistakes. A perfect storm of misunderstanding on both sides. It was almost funny, would be funny, later. But for now…
"I'm sorry too, Castle. I assumed the worst and I shouldn't have done that."
He lifted a shoulder in absolution and moved just a little bit closer, one hand lifting to cup her cheek again. She felt her heart rate pick up from his touch, his closeness, the look in his eyes. "So I was thinking, maybe we could start again, go to a restaurant with real food?"
"And adult portion sizes?" she added.
He smiled and shifted the tiniest bit closer, his lips brushing fleetingly against hers. "Yeah, that too." He met her eyes, a small hopeful smile curving his lips. "So what do you say, Beckett, have dinner with me, again?"
She could feel the heat of his breath against her lips and abruptly made up her mind. "No," she blurted out.
Disappointment and something like hurt flickered across his face and she winced—she was so bad at this. It was her turn to brush her lips against his. "I have a better idea," she whispered against his lips. "Why don't we go back to my place…" She leaned in until her lips almost touched his ear. "Order in…"
He choked a little. "Kate, are you sure? I wasn't expecting…"
She cut him off with a quick kiss. "I know you weren't. And yes, I'm sure."
He kissed her back. "Then I'm sure too."
He did not spend the short car ride back to her place touching her, driving her crazy with his hand inching higher and higher up her leg. He spent it with his hands decorously in his lap but he was again the Castle she knew, spent the short ride lightly recounting his mother's adventures on MySpace. His words were blithe but the look in his eyes was not, making her flush hotter every time their eyes met, unspoken desire and anticipation seeming to thicken the air between them.
Once they were back at her place, he dismissed Derek for the night and slipped his hand into hers. And she did not pin him up against the elevator wall and kiss him senseless.
It was very polite until they were inside her apartment, her door closed behind them.
"Food first?"
She stopped his words with her mouth and he opened up to her immediately, his hands tugging her against his body, and yeah, food—and talking—could wait. She wanted this, wanted him, first.
They stumbled back towards her bedroom, still kissing, as she pushed his jacket off his shoulders and then went to work on the buttons of his shirt, impatient to finally get to see the hard planes of his chest. Except his own hands got in the way as he slid his hands up her side to cup her breasts.
She arched into him. Oh god, that felt good. But then she let out a little whine of annoyance as he moved his hands, slipping around to her back. And she realized his intent only when her dress loosened as he unzipped it and it slid down her body, leaving her in only her underwear.
He made a choked sound as he saw her. "So gorgeous," he husked and then his mouth was on her through her bra. She gasped at the wet suction that only seemed to be intensified by the rough scrape of the lace against her taut nipples and then cried out at the light graze of his teeth.
Her hands had been busy too, finally managing to undo the buttons of his shirt, but his refusal to let her go got in the way of pushing the shirt off him. Not that she wanted him to let her go but sacrifices must be made. "Castle, off," she ordered.
He let out a brief chuckle against her. "Impatient?"
She was going to respond to that but then his mouth found a sensitive spot on her neck, sucking and then swirling his tongue against her skin in a way that had her brain blanking.
And then he released her just long enough to shrug out of his shirt and she finally, finally saw his bare chest. Ooh, damn. Her mouth went dry. He was big and broad and just toned enough. A mental image of that chest over her, pressing her into the mattress, flashed into her mind. Mm, yeah, she wanted that. Now.
She took the initiative, stripping off her bra and panties, and then tugged him with her as she fell back onto her bed and he followed, settling between her thighs.
He teased her with just the brush of his fingers against her, his lips lowering to her navel, his tongue flicking into her belly button, and then sliding lower, excruciatingly slowly, as all the while his fingers played over her.
He left a trail of soft, teasing kisses along her stomach, the curve of her hip, her thigh, and then lifted his head entirely. She panted. Annoying man. She could feel the warm puff of his breath against her and her hips jerked in a futile attempt to get his mouth where she wanted it.
"Castle, stop teasing," she gritted out.
Oh now he listened to instructions—thank god he listened to instructions. First his finger slid inside her and then her thoughts fractured as his finger was replaced by his mouth and then all she knew was his lips and his tongue and ohgodohgodCastle…
She sagged into the mattress, boneless, breathless, and had to blink her eyes a few times to clear her hazy vision to find that he had taken advantage of the moment to strip out of the rest of his clothes—smart man—smart, sexy man—and was propped up on his arm beside her, one hand tracing idle patterns on her stomach.
And oh, any lingering doubts she might have had about how serious he was about her would have been eradicated entirely because of the look on his face as he watched her. He looked at her as if… as if she was everything he'd ever wanted in his life.
It was her turn to touch him, reaching out first to feather her fingers along the length of him, lightly brushing across the tip of him, making his breath stutter. Then she wrapped her hand around him, stroking him. His elbows gave way and he collapsed on top of her, momentarily knocking the breath out of her.
His eyes flared as he scrambled to push himself up. "Sorry sorry—"
"Ssh, Castle," she slid her arms around his shoulders, preventing his escape, "it's fine. You're good." Her hips rolled beneath him until he was cradled in the cove of her body. Oh yeah, he was so good where he was…
He could be even better.
"You safe?" he gasped.
"Yes, you?"
"Mm hmm," he mumbled before his hips shifted, pushed forward, as he sank into her, his head dropping to her shoulder as their twin groans hung in the air.
"Kate…"
"God, Castle…"
Any more words were lost, replaced by pants and moans, as he began to move, slow and steady and ooh soo good… She clutched at his shoulders, his hair, her hips rising to meet his. And for a few endless moments, there was only him, the weight of his body pressing over hers, the hot, hard strength of him, the sound of his harsh breathing in her ear, the heat of his hands as he touched her.
The coil of heat and pleasure tightened, spiraled up inside her, and then Castle found her nipple with his mouth and the tension snapped and she broke apart on a cry, gasping and shuddering around him.
He followed with a guttural groan, his hips jerking against hers, until he collapsed half beside her, half above her.
"Oh my god," he panted, the words half-muffled against her shoulder.
He tipped over onto his back and his arm curled, making her roll into him, which she willingly did, tucking herself against his side feeling loose and languid, as she waited for her bones to knit back into place, her heart rate to slow.
She wasn't normally much of a cuddler after sex but she found with Castle, she was entirely disinclined to move, didn't feel the slightest wish to keep any distance between them. Was content to feel the solid warmth of his body against her, his arm curled possessively around her.
And to think she'd thought barely an hour ago that this was turning out to be a disaster of an evening. Hmm, not such a disaster after all. She hid a smile against his bare shoulder, dusting a kiss against his skin just because she could.
The silence was abruptly broken by Castle's stomach and he clapped a hand to his stomach, clearly mortified. "Shit."
She suppressed a smile and opened her mouth to comment or tease but before she could, her own stomach decided to make itself heard. Their eyes met and then they were both cracking up with laughter, clutching each other as they all but howled their hilarity.
And oddly, that was the moment when she knew they were going to make it. To be laughing so hard in bed after the hottest sex of her life—she would never have imagined it but somehow, it made everything… right. This, with Castle, was real.
"I think that means it's time for our second dinner," he gasped.
She gave him a smacking kiss on his cheek, finally rolling away from him even as her body mourned the loss of his closeness. "Come on, Castle, let's go look through my delivery menus."
She grabbed a short, silky robe to wrap around herself and he pretended to heave a sigh. "I think I like you better naked."
She tossed him a smirk. "I definitely like you better naked, but right now, I want food."
He pretended to grumble but slipped back into his shirt, left mostly unbuttoned, and his boxers as he trailed after her to the kitchen.
They ordered Chinese and then he lifted her up to her counter, stepping in close so she could wrap her arms and her legs around him, nudging his nose against hers, their breaths mingling.
"I like this," he breathed.
She briefly smudged her smile against his. "What, my robe?" she teased.
He laughed softly. "Well, yes, it's very sexy, but I meant, I like being here like this, with you."
Oh damn, he was making her melt. Again. "I like this too," she admitted.
"Yeah?" A smirk tugged at his lips, mischief sparking in his eyes, and yes, this was the version of him she was used to, smug and teasing and adorable (with an added side of sexiness). "So can I tell everyone you're my girlfriend now?" Yeah, definitely her Castle. (Wait, what?)
She tried to narrow her eyes at him but had the bad feeling that she only succeeded in looking amused and a little bit (a lot) smitten. "Don't push it, Castle."
He pulled a face of mock disappointment. "Fine, I'll cancel the full page announcement in the Ledger."
She huffed a laugh. "Yeah, you'd better do that."
He pretended to sigh. "Since you insist on spoiling my fun…"
"I'll make it up to you later," she promised and kissed him, slowly and thoroughly, loving the way he sank into the kiss, the way he nipped at her lower lip before soothing it with his tongue, loving the taste of him, the feel of him. Mm, yeah, definitely hers.
They spent the time until the food arrived with more kissing, more soft laughter, talking about nothing and everything and generally luxuriating in the new ease and intimacy between them.
They only separated, briefly, in order to eat, and afterwards, went back to bed and it was her turn to press him back into the mattress and use her hands and lips and tongue to make him groan her name.
Later, she drifted to sleep, with one of his arms lying heavy across her waist, one of his legs tucked between hers. Sated and happy and his.
~The End~
A/N 2: Consider this smut and a fluffy ending my gift for you all as I wish you very happy holidays! As always, thank you so much for reading.