This is a tiny alternative fill-in for the end of 3x17 'Countdown'. I've always hated the fact that Josh appeared at the end of that episode; Castle's face changing as he spots him over her shoulder is so poignant, and the look in the elevator with his lovely chin wrinkling up with emotion… always hits me in the gut. So I wanted to change it and give him a little bit of fluffy happiness for once; I hope you enjoy it.
"Captain's right. You guys don't know how lucky you are." Espo's voice is uncharacteristically sombre, and it instantly makes Castle's eyes dart up from his beer. He is serious. He's been through more than he'd ever be able to share with them; spends his days carrying the well worn weight of war and conflict on his shoulders. Castle tilts his head a little, his eyes changing unconsciously to show his friend that he empathises, even if he can't quite understand, and he knows. He can feel Kate's eyes on him, and he turns his head in the opposite direction to meet her gaze.
"Actually, I do." And he means it; in so many ways.
Their moment is broken by the Captain's curious "Hmmm…", so much more than the simple vocalisation it appears to be.
/
As the night wraps its arms around them the unofficial debrief ebbs and flows as quickly as the beers are emptied, and come 10pm it's just Castle and Beckett left in the conference room. Just as they'd started the day, they'd ended it. And not just in terms of the dirty bomb.
Kate is spread out on the sofa that underlines the window, curled on her side as Castle hauls himself up from the two chairs he's occupying; one for his body, one for his feet, and he drains the last of his beer before dropping the bottle into the wastepaper basket with a loud clunk.
She closes her eyes at the sound. "Jeez, Castle… So loud?"
He huffs, stretching his crumpled limbs as he reaches up to the ceiling. "I'm not loud. You're drunk. Or maybe already slightly hungover; who knows, we have been here a long time. You want another?"
She nods, smiling up at him with glassy, sparkling eyes. 'The perfect complement to those rosy cheeks…' he thinks, watching her wriggle as she stretches a little herself, the movement unintentionally pushing her hair over her face. His head tilts as his hand instinctively moves towards her to stroke it off her face, but he catches himself. 'Woah, Castle. You are drunk. Hands to yourself, buddy.' He's perfected the suppression, has it down to a fine art now, but sometimes - when she looks at him like that… 'Castle!' He shakes his head to clear the fog and she notices, her brow furrowing sweetly with concern.
"You ok?"
He nods, rubbing his hand over his face. "Yep. All good. Stay there, Madam, and I will be right back with more beers… After I use the restroom." He pats his stomach. "Got to make room for more..."
The concern disappears, and is replaced with mock disgust that edges down into a flicker of a smile. "Castle, the boys are gone now. Less man talk, k?" Her head settles back down, resting comfortably on her folded arm.
He smiles back at her and winks, making sure to close the door softly behind him.
/
Armed with more beers and the leftover pizza from the break room, he edges back in to the conference room with full arms and sets his bounty down on the table. "Can I interest you in some slightly chilly pizza, Detective Beckett?"
She doesn't reply, and he turns back to her, ready and armed with a sarcastic comment… but she's asleep. 'Asleep. Seriously, Beckett, am I that boring?'
She's changed position; she's upright now, and her head and body are resting against the side of the filing cabinet that flanks the sofa. Her hair has fallen back over her face and it's lifting slightly, every time she exhales; his eyes blink slowly as he takes her in, the butterflies escaping and flitting up to sit on his ribcage, the twisting knot of love and desire she causes moving them on from their usual resting place, deep in the base of his stomach. They're usually contained, but they've shared something spectacular today. Something incredible. They're free, and for once he doesn't have to hide them quite as much.
He picks up two of the opened beers and steps carefully over to the sofa, settling himself down gently beside her and propping his feet up on one of the table chairs. If he strains hard enough, he can just about hear her breathing; it's soft and measured, her chest rising and falling in smooth, regular motions along with the strands of hair shrouding her face.
'That's got to be tickling her. Hasn't it?' Her nose wrinkles a little as she stirs and lets out a little huff, blowing the hair away from her face, but it falls back to the exact same position and her whole face wrinkles this time, her eyes fluttering at the disturbance as she bats at it with a clumsy, sleepy swipe of her fingertips.
He reaches forward, hesitating a little before throwing complete caution to the wind and using his index and middle finger to gently sweep it off her face, tucking it down behind her ear. Her mouth curls up into a little smile and she reaches up, her fingers curling around his wrist as she stirs again, mumbling.
"Hmm… Castle?"
His heartbeat stutters as he prepares himself for the impending death threat she'd usually reserve for this kind of overstepping-their-unspoken-boundaries situation… But her long fingers slide upwards, slipping their way into the gaps between his and knitting their hands together. He looks down, the butterflies taking off again as he takes in the sight of their skin, side by side, pressed together, and he feels the warmth from her hand spreading to his.
His voice is hesitant. "Yes?"
She doesn't answer him at first, just shifts her body until she's leaning in the other direction; against him, her head settling into the nook where his neck branches out into his shoulder, her fingers wriggling against his so their hands are tightly clasped together. Her waist and hips shift imperceptibly closer, moulding themselves to him until they follow the line of his body; where he ends, she begins. As always.
"Kate?" The word is almost inaudible; his lips forming around her name quietly, as if he's worried that if he speaks too loudly he'll wake her properly, and she'll realise she's not supposed to be doing this.
She stirs again, her eyes opening fully this time, but to his surprise she doesn't move away from him. Instead her head tilts back a little, bringing their faces in line as he looks down at her, waiting for her to respond. Their noses are almost touching and he's too afraid to breathe, too afraid that he'll do something that will break the spell, then she inches forward and presses her mouth to his; a light, feather touch, a ghost of a kiss, yet still somehow complete with the promise of more. He moans involuntarily, a little grumble in his throat that makes her smile; he can feel it, spreading across her lips, and he can see it in the glinting, diamond sparkle of her eyes.
She blinks at him as she pulls away slowly, reflexively, briefly fluttering her eyes closed as his fingers on the hand not laced with hers come back up to sweep her hair back once again. His fingertips settle at her neck, and as he strokes her warm, perfumed skin softly, hardly believing his luck, her eyes darken and his muscles tighten.
"Take me home."