Based on a request I received on tumblr: Castle and Beckett are strangers and participate in the strangers kiss for the first time video. Title is in Scottish Gaelic because I didn't want it to be immediately obvious.
An Toiseach Pòg
It has been one hell of a morning. Dispatch woke her at three and Kate hasn't stopped since, so when Lanie appears in the precinct and demands that Beckett join her for lunch she hesitates for barely a moment. The weather is unseasonably warm; even with the crisp edge of spring Kate shucks her jacket and folds it over one arm.
Stomach growling, she trails Lanie down the sidewalk and towards their favourite place to eat of the moment. Kate hesitates to bend down and untuck the hem of her pants, somehow caught in her shoe, and when she straightens up she watches as Lanie gets corralled a little way ahead of her by a woman with a clipboard.
Hurrying to catch up, Kate unclips her badge from her belt. She's hungry enough that she's willing to swing her weight as a cop to rescue her friend. Only as she gets nearer, it seems that Lanie really doesn't need to be rescued.
"Hey. What's happening?"
"They're looking for people to take part in a video, Beckett. Some arty thing." Dr Parish shrugs, nudging an elbow into her friend. Okay, so Lanie knows all about what Kate was like as a teenager, how painfully pretentious as she ditched her prom for a poetry slam and modelled nude for art classes.
The woman with the clipboard seems eager, raking her eyes over Kate before she consults her clipboard. "It will only be an hour at the most. And we'll pay you."
"What do we have to do?" Lanie asks, already eager. Stifling an eye roll, Beckett shifts her weight and does her best to surreptitiously clip her badge back onto her waistband. Her best friend always manages to get them involved in things like this.
"We're going to pair you with a stranger, and we'll ask you to kiss them." The woman is explaining, Lanie's eyes lighting up at the prospect.
Beckett takes a stumbling step backward and shakes her head, folding her arms across her stomach in self-defence. Absolutely not. "Whoa, no. Lanie. No."
"Oh come on, girl. How long has it been since you've gotten any action?" Lanie huffs, jabbing her finger into Kate's shoulder and turning to the woman with the clipboard. "We'll do it."
Oh god. Oh no. She's really not in the mood to make out with some random stranger. She needs at least two glasses of wine in her system before she's up for that. "Lanie."
The woman with the clipboard is pointing out the building down the block where it's all happening and then Lanie's fingers are tightening around Kate's wrist and dragging her down the pavement, barely hesitating when she trips on an uneven flagstone. Pushing the door open, Lanie ushers Kate inside ahead of her and towards the stairs, the two of them heading to the studio area.
Another woman, sans clipboard, greets them warmly and takes their coats, offers them a drink. Lanie accepts; Kate declines. She doesn't want this to last longer than absolutely necessary. They're shown to a green room with a couch and Kate sinks down gratefully, scowling at Lanie before she drops her head to her hands.
This is insane. She's a detective, for god's sake. She can't just disappear in the middle of the day to go make out with a stranger. Not that they have any leads, exactly. They're waiting on a warrant and the boys can handle it, she knows.
Even so. She's lead detective. She's supposed to set an example. "I can't believe you're doing this to me."
"Oh honey, come on." Lanie says, sitting down beside her and nudging her until Kate sits up. "It'll be fun. Just relax. Enjoy it."
A guy in thick-framed glasses with an unruly mop of dark hair and disconcertingly tight jeans appears in the doorway and looks at Kate, beckoning with two fingers. "Can I have you first please? This way."
She follows, tries to project an air of confidence she really doesn't feel. At the doorway to the studio they stop and the guy – she really wishes she knew his name – fixes a blindfold over her eyes. He does ask for permission first, which she appreciates, but she's kind of freaking out about not being able to see anything. He cups a hand at her elbow, guides her into the room.
The heat of stage lighting smacks into her and Kate rakes a hand through her hair, hears the bustle of people she assumes are the director and the camera crew. And then footsteps, gradually louder, and the sense of someone's body close to hers.
"Alright guys, take your blindfolds off for me." Someone says and Kate tears hers off as fast as possible, entirely hating not having been able to see what's going on.
The moment she sees who the stranger she's been paired with is she takes a stumbling step backward, chewing at her bottom lip as she waits. He's slower to take his own blindfold off, enjoying the reveal, and she's grateful for the time it affords her.
This man isn't a stranger. She's seen his face on inside of countless book jackets, on television and page six. Seen him face to face too, years ago now. When she stood in line for hours just to meet him and ask him to sign her book.
"Hi." He extends a hand to her and she takes it, not at all surprised to find that his handshake is solid and sure of himself. "I'm Rick."
Oh, she knows. Richard freaking Castle, and now she's got to make out with him. And then afterwards, she's going to take great pleasure in murdering Lanie, slowly and methodically.
"Kate."
"So. . ." Castle (and she can't think of him as Rick) sucks in air through his teeth, his mouth lifting in a crooked grin. "We're gonna make out?"
"I guess that's how it works." She shrugs, forces herself to meet his eyes. This is insane. Her heart thrashes frantically and a knot of trepidation tightens in her gut. It really has been a while, Lanie's not wrong, and this is just all so bizarre.
Castle glances over to the director and lifts an eyebrow. Kate is pleased to see that he seems if not nervous at least a little less sure of himself than before. "Do we just go for it?"
"Whenever you're ready." The woman nods. Her hair is knotted atop her head and her outfit is an interesting blend of vintage and modern that Kate really likes, has to force herself to stop admiring.
Taking a step closer, Castle cups the back of her neck. It's tender, soft, his thumb next to her ear as if to hold her in place. And then he's leaning in and her heart is kicking so hard she's afraid he can hear it.
"This okay?" He murmurs to her, quiet enough she doubts even the boom microphone above them will have picked it up.
She nods, and then he closes his eyes and leans in. His mouth meets hers and Kate lifts up into him, resting her palms against his chest. Castle's tongue slicks against her bottom lip and she opens to him, gritting out something that might be a moan and sliding her hand up to curl her fingers at his ear.
Their kiss is deep and searching, tongue and then teeth and the wonderful again and again press of his lips. He pulls away for a moment and presses his forehead to hers, grins down at her and she smiles back, finds herself reluctant to pull away.
Apparently so is he; he comes back for a closed-mouth kiss and his free hand drops to her waist, his arm banding around her back to draw her body in close to his. This time, Kate lets herself give back to him. Her tongue strokes inside of his mouth and he moans, his fingers scalding even through the material of her button down as he clutches at her.
When they break away he pants against her cheek, refusing to give up any of the space between them. "Wow. That was amazing."
"Yeah." She laughs, detangles herself from his grip and turns to the director. "Is that it?"
"That's great, thank you so much." The woman enthuses, coming towards them and shaking each of their hands in turn. "Leave your email addresses with Clark and we'll let you know when the video's uploaded."
Another man hovers at the director's side with a clipboard, gesturing to them both to follow him back to a different green room. They – she and Richard Castle – take it in turns to note down their contact details and then Clark leaves them alone.
They look at each other for a moment and then laugh, Kate pressing her palms to her cheeks to hide the flush she can feel rising there.
"So. Tell me a little more about yourself." Castle says, settling down on the couch and patting the seat next to him.
Kate sinks down to sit and grabs a bottle of water from the table next to her, hands it over to Castle before she grabs one for herself. She takes a long drink, a little disappointed that it washes away the taste of him, and swipes the back of her hand across her mouth. "Uh. Well, my full name is Katherine Beckett. I'm a homicide detective with the NYPD."
His eyes light up at that and she grins, dips her chin to let her hair spill in front of her face. It seems sort of ridiculous to be regaling him with these most basic facts about herself when she's just had his tongue in her mouth.
"I have to confess." She carries on, folding her hands carefully in her lap so they won't give away her anxiety. "I know who you are."
"You do?" He seems pleased with that, but not overly so. Not the arrogant playboy she was expecting. Perhaps because he's at a disadvantage; she knows more about him than he does her and it seems to be throwing off his game quite spectacularly.
Shrugging, Kate picks at a loose thread at the knee of her pants and grins. "Yeah. I've seen your books in the library." He doesn't need to know that she's read them, that she's a fan. That his words carried her through the sucking quagmire of grief. No. She'll keep that to herself.
"Oh." He hesitates, watching her carefully. "Listen, Kate. That kiss was incredible. And you seem really great. So, maybe you'd like to get dinner sometime?"
She lifts an eyebrow at that, pressing her lips together. "I'm not your usual type, am I?"
"You're fascinating." He responds. His smile is tentative, really quite adorable. "I feel like we should get to know each other. Since we clearly have crazy chemistry going on."
"Okay." She manages, chewing on her lip again.
"Great! Well, here, let's trade numbers." He holds out his phone, takes hers from her and busies himself adding his contact details.
She does the same and hands back his iPhone, stands up from the couch and hovers awkwardly until he follows suit. He walks her over to the door and opens it for her, gestures for her to step through. "Oh, no, I have to wait for my friend."
"I see." He nods. There's a moment where she thinks he might just walk away, but he leans back in to kiss her again. Soft and fleeting and lovely, and it wipes away any doubts she has about him just disappearing into the living mass of the city.
The way he's kissing her now, the look in his eyes. . .he's definitely going to call.
Tumblr: katiehoughton
Twitter: seilleanmor