A/N: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and Happy Holidays to all! It's not much and I'm not quite sure where it came from, but I hope you guys enjoy.
"Tell me again why you wanted to come up here for the weekend?" Richard Castle asks his daughter as they trudge through the entryway of their Hamptons home. He shakes his head in hopes of dislodging the stubborn snowflakes that've taken up residence during their short walk from the car.
His ten year old merely huffs, looking at him over her shoulder. "Because, daddy, it's pretty when it snows. Besides, we're always in the city all winter and we'll be back home in a few days anyway."
She does have a point; the Hamptons is beautiful this time of year. There's something about the serenity snow brings to a beach town, the rare sight of empty beaches. For good reason, of course—the ocean breezes alone, not during winter, are enough to have him grabbing a light sweater. It's absolutely freezing now.
"You're lucky you're cute," he teases, dropping his bags against the wall. "Now, what first: hot chocolate? Set up the fireplace? Decorate the tree?" Glancing down at his watch, he grimaces. "Dinner?"
They'd left the city in a rush after Alexis got out of school, the last day before Christmas break, because there'd been word about a blizzard. They managed to bypass the onslaught of snow on the drive, but they'd seemingly forgotten about food as well.
Alexis's eyes widen slightly. "Oh, yeah! Food first," she decides after a few seconds. "Hot chocolate and a movie by the fireplace after?"
"Perfect. Why don't you go grab the firewood from the back while I gather up our meal options?"
His daughter practically bounces away as she turns on her heels, a noise of assent tossed in his general direction. Chuckling, he picks up their bags and brings them to their rooms before returning to the kitchen and assessing the damage. It's been a while since they've been up here, four months at least, and he's not sure what food's left. Or edible.
Upon inspection he realizes there's more than he thought; some different kinds of pasta, an assortment of frozen meats, boxed side-dishes. It's not exactly a five star restaurant display, and he'll likely have to head out at some point before they leave so it's stocked, but it's perfectly fine for tonight. He eventually decides on making penne alla vodka and sets the necessary ingredients on the counter.
The sound of Alexis calling for him from the back of the house pauses him. "Dad?"
He finds her standing in the open space of their back porch, looking out of the glass windows. "You find the firewood?"
She nods. "Yeah, but..."
"What's wrong?" When she's silent, he follows her line of sight. The snow has picked up now, increased in intensity in the mere twenty minutes they've been inside the house. Outside, on the beach, stands a person.
"What are they doing?" Alexis asks, twisting to face her father.
All he can do is stare. "I'm not sure, honey," he tells her, because he doesn't have a clue. It's freezing outside, the beginnings of a whiteout taking form, and this stranger seems to be, from this angle, a few feet away from the ocean. Just... standing. If not for the fact that they definitely weren't there when they first arrived he'd assume it's some kind of statue, an oddly timed public art piece or something.
But it's not, it's a person and they must be chilled to the bone.
It's eerie, almost. The stillness of their stance, the way they continue to stare out into the ocean. It sends a shiver down his spine, the image that pops into his mind. He blames his writing, jumping to dark conclusions an occupational hazard at best, but it almost seems as if they're waiting for the right moment to continue on, walk straight into the ocean.
"Daddy?" Alexis's voice breaks him from his thoughts, an innocent curiosity painted onto her face. He won't share that little thought with her. "Should we do something?"
She looks so torn, her little face scrunched up in confusion and concern for this stranger (a woman, he guesses, if the build is any indication) standing outside in the cold. He offers her a smile, places a hand on her thin shoulder.
"Like what?" he asks, though he already knows what he wants to do.
She purses her lips in thought for a few seconds before meeting his gaze. "They must be cold," she says seriously. "We're making hot chocolate, maybe they'd like some. Nobody should be outside in the snow like that."
Rick grins, pulling his daughter into his chest with a light squeeze. "That's a good idea, Pumpkin," he agrees, placing a kiss to the crown of her head. "I think some hot chocolate would do them good, too." Alexis beams when he approves of her idea, face lit up. "Leave the firewood here for a minute, why don't you go get the marshmallows out and I'll go ask them, okay?"
"Okay!"
And then she's off, scampering through the living room and into the kitchen. Rick, on the other hand, lets out a sigh as he moves to grab his jacket from the closet. Pulling the hood up, he zips the coat and stuffs his hands in the pockets for warmth.
The wind almost knocks off his balance as he steps outside, caught off guard by the force of it. Snow gets in his eyes, sticks to his clothing as he moves carefully down the steps and makes his way onto the beach. The stranger is still standing there, though it does seem as though there's been some movement, a few feet at least, since he's last looked.
The closer he gets, the more certain he is that it is a woman. The beanie on her head does little to keep the ends of her hair from flying around, and her hands are shoved into her jacket pockets. He's not sure what concerns him more, the fact that she's out here to begin with or that he's a few feet to her side and she doesn't seem to register his presence.
"Excuse me," he says once he's close enough, and the woman jerks, spinning in his direction. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."
Her face contorts in confusion, but she shakes her head. "Can I help you?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing, actually," he tells her, watches her brows quirk just beneath the edges of her beanie. "Sorry, uh, it's just—it's really cold out here and you must be freezing."
"What gave you that impression, the snow?" she quips.
Witty, he likes it.
"Well, yes," he says. "That, and my daughter pointed the observation out first."
"Your daughter?"
He nods, fights to avoid rubbing his hands together. Instead, he stuffs them deeper into his pockets. "Yeah. Alexis," he confirms. "She was getting firewood for our fireplace and saw you standing out here. Said you must be cold, and suggested that we do something. "
If he's not mistaken, beneath the surprise evident on her face he's pretty sure he sees the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. The woman's arms cross over her chest in what looks like an attempt to gain warmth, and she averts her gaze.
"That's sweet."
She doesn't say anything else, and he doesn't push. He's not sure he'd take kindly to a stranger walking up to him and prying into his business either. Even still...
"Can I ask... what brings you out here?"
Turning her head towards him, she stares for a few seconds before sighing. "It's peaceful. The ocean, the snow. The blend of the two polar opposites. There's something serene about it." There's a pause. "Sometimes you just have to step back and think, you know?"
Nodding, he turns to look out at the ocean. Waves ripple with the wind, each snowflake cascading down and condensing against the water.
"It really is beautiful," he agrees. "But it's freezing. Why don't you watch the scenery from your window?"
It's a subtle pry. He hasn't gotten a great look at her because of the snow and the lack of light, but he doesn't think he's seen her around before. Then again, he hasn't been back here in months; it's entirely possible he's acquired some new neighbors in that time.
"I don't live here," is all she says, and while he thought as much it doesn't answer the question of why she's here, not really. "Just came for... for this."
"This?" She nods, but doesn't explain further. His earlier train of thought springs back and something in his blood runs cold. "You're not—you're not going to, you know..."
The woman looks at him from beneath her lashes, regarding him. "Not going to what?"
He hesitates, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "It's just, from the window you looked so still. Almost like a statue standing here. And it kinda seemed as though you were just waiting for the right time to—"
"To walk into the ocean?"
Giving her a slightly sheepish but still concerned look, he nods. "Yeah. You're not, right?"
That gets what appears to be a genuine laugh from her, and he feels the knots in his chest loosen. "No," she assures him. "I didn't come here to walk into the ocean."
"Okay," he breathes. "Good, that's good."
"Now that we've got that covered," she starts, pulling her jacket closer to her body. He can see her teeth chattering. "Shouldn't you be getting back to your—Alexis, was it?"
"Alexis, yeah," he nods, turning to look back at the house. The girl in question is standing in the back porch, peering out the window as she watches him. She must notice him looking, because she offers him a thumbs up. "I should, but only if you accompany me."
Her body twists towards him at that, surprised. "I'm sorry?"
"Well, I did come out here for a reason. Alexis was worried that you were standing out here in the cold all alone, in the snow, and asked me to come offer you a hot beverage." Her mouth opens, and he assumes she's probably thinking of a way to politely decline, but he continues. "She's watching right now, and I know she'd really enjoy it if you came in and joined us for some hot chocolate."
The woman turns her head, a small smile appearing as she notices his daughter in the window.
"I don't—I don't know," she says, her shoulders beginning to shake with the cold. "You don't have to..."
"I want to," he cuts in, because he does. He doesn't know what really brought her so far from home, what caused her to need the serenity of a snow-covered beach, but he wants to help. If that means a hot chocolate to warm her chilled bones, that's what he'll do. "And besides, you don't want to upset a ten year old, do you?"
He swears he sees an eye roll before she glances back towards the house again, and then she sighs, meets his gaze once more.
"I... okay. Okay."
Grinning, he turns around, starts in the direction of the house once he's positive she's at his side. "I'm Rick, by the way," he introduces himself.
"Kate," she says, accepting his hand outstretched had in her gloved one.
They walk up to the house together, Kate following him up the stairs and across the back porch. When they get to the door he swings it towards them, holds it open for her and dramatically shakes his body the second they're inside. He resembles a dog, shaking around in an exaggerated attempt to rid his body of the snow that's gathered along his clothing, all the while making low howling noises.
Alexis returns from the other room with two towels and hands one to her father with a deep sigh, the other to their house guest with a shy smile.
Her eyes widen slightly. "Oh, thank you."
"Thanks, Pumpkin," Rick breathes, tugging his squirming daughter unwillingly into his wet chest. "All dry."
"Dad."
He turns to find their new friend regarding them with a soft smile a hint of uncertainty.
"Alexis, this is Kate," he introduces the girl standing at his side. "Kate, this is Alexis."
"It's nice to meet you, Alexis," Kate says, a warm smile on her face for his kid despite the cold that must still sit deep in her bones. "Thank you so much for inviting me for some hot chocolate, that was really sweet of you."
The girl ducks her head but her smile is genuine, widens at the approval of her idea, and she nods, fingers clutched around the bottom of her shirt.
Rick looks down at her. "Why don't you go choose a movie, and I'll show Kate where we keep the hot chocolate?"
Alexis nods. "Okay!" She turns to Kate shyly. "The hot chocolate is really good. There's a secret ingredient," she adds on a whisper before hurrying out of the foyer and into the living room to scour through their massive array of holiday movies.
"You've been here two minutes and you already have my kid sharing secret recipes," he jokes as he leads her into the kitchen.
"To be fair, she only said there was a secret ingredient, not what it is. Your secret's safe."
"For now," he teases, gesturing to the table to his right. "Please, sit, I'll grab everything we need."
He watches her hesitate for a few seconds before lowering herself into one of the chairs, her gaze doing a sweep of their surroundings. She seems to be thawing a bit, limbs no longer shaking uncontrollably, and she's taken off her beanie, allowed wild waves to fall over her shoulders, the ends still damp with condensed snow. It's the first real look at her that he's gotten, and he has to admit, she's beautiful. Cheeks tinged pink from the cold, eyes a sparkle of bright greens and browns in his florescent kitchen lighting, and cheekbones as sharp as the knife to his left.
"So," Kate hedges, legs crossed under his kitchen table, hands wringing in front of her. "Not that I don't think it's incredibly sweet, but are you in the habit of inviting random women from the beach into your home?"
There's a sense of teasing to her tone that he appreciates, enjoys, and he swivels on his heels and huffs a laugh. "I didn't know you were a woman until I got outside," he points out. "But the answer is no, I don't. It's not every day you see someone standing on the beach during a snowstorm, though."
She hums. "Fair enough."
Rick wanders over with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate then, filled to the brim with mini marshmallows and whipped cream on top. He places one in front of her, mumbles something about it being very hot and holds back a grin at the chuckle that escapes her lips.
"Alexis, hot chocolate!" he yells for his daughter, hears the muffled in a minute from the girl as she continues to, no doubt, rummage through the Christmas decorations he knows she can't resist.
They both sip at their hot chocolates in silence, both glancing at the other every few minutes. He's about to break the silence, ask her something about herself, maybe get a last name or find out where she's from, but Alexis bounces in before he gets the chance, slides on her socked feet over to the counter to grab the Christmas mug with her name in lights painted across the front.
"Thanks, Daddy," she says, turning to face the two adults. She sets her gaze on Kate. "Did you figure out the secret ingredient?"
"Am I supposed to guess?" she asks, getting an enthusiastic nod from Alexis in return. "Okay, okay. Is it..."
"Wait! Three guesses."
"Daddy, that's not fair!" Alexis argues on behalf of their guest. "There's no guess limit."
Rick sighs dramatically, tugging his kid into his hip. "Fine," he drawls, then turns to Kate, who's doing a poor job of concealing her amusement. "But just know I'll be more impressed if you get it in the first three."
"Mm, noted." Bringing the mug to her lips, she takes a sip and savors it, her nose scrunching (adorably, if he's being honest) as she tries to pinpoint the tastes. "Okay, let's see. Nutmeg?"
Alexis shakes her head, as does Rick. "Nope."
"It's not peppermint. Not cinnamon," she muses aloud, her tongue peeking between her teeth in a way that has him grateful for the press of his daughter to his side, a reminder that there's a child in the room and he doesn't really know her. "Ginger?"
Rick gapes and Alexis claps, nodding happily. "Yeah!"
"Nobody ever guesses ginger," he tells her, eyes wide. "Everyone always goes for cinnamon because it's classic."
"Cinnamon is classic," she agrees, "but it also has a very distinct taste, one that's definitely not in this—very delicious by the way—hot chocolate."
He's beginning to like this near stranger the more he talks to her, enjoys the subtle hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. Alexis lists further into his side, placing her hot chocolate on the table for a moment before disengaging, grabbing a handful of chocolate chips from the (very large) bag hidden in the cabinet.
"Hey, you," he laughs, catching her mid-chew. "We haven't had dinner yet, missy."
His daughter merely shrugs as she swallows. "You have to have chocolate chips with hot chocolate." She wanders over, plops a handful into his now-open hand and turns to Kate, holding out an equal amount of chocolate chips, an expectant look on her face until the woman opens a palm. "There you go. Much better."
"Thank you," Kate murmurs, a smile tugging at her mouth.
He watches as she switches the hand the chocolate chips are in, plucking at a few with her right hand and popping them into her mouth. Alexis, meanwhile, leans in close and whispers in his ear.
"Daddy, what does Kate do?"
"I don't know, Pumpkin, we haven't gotten that far."
This displeases his daughter, who pulls back and looks at him, confused. "What have you been doing in here then?" Before he has a chance to answer, the laughter taking the place of a legitimate reply, she's continuing, only this time she's speaking to their guest. "Daddy was being impolite. What do you do, Kate? You look like a model. Are you a model? Oh, or an actress!"
"Alexis—"
"It's fine," Kate laughs, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. "That's very sweet, but I'm neither a model nor an actress."
This actually comes as somewhat of a surprise to him, though he knows it shouldn't. He doesn't know this woman, only knows her first name and that she has what appears to be an impeccable palate, but she could pass for a model. Tall, slim, stunningly beautiful even flushed from the cold.
"Lawyer?" he guesses. She quirks a brow but he shrugs. "Model was a good guess, lawyer seems like the next best one."
"Nope. Is it my turn to give you guys three guesses?"
His mouth opens, but Alexis bounces on her toes beside him. "Let's guess, Dad."
"Okay," he agrees, glancing back to Kate. "Do we get three guesses each or three total?"
"How about five total?" A compromise, he figures, and so he nods. "Good."
"But the two we've already guessed don't count! They came before the game started," he adds hastily, already conspiring with Alexis on their first (technically third) guess.
The woman just laughs though, nods and gives a small wave of her hand. They continue deciding on their guesses and she turns her attention back to the hot chocolate in front of her, the pile of chocolate chips she'd deposited on a napkin to avoid the inevitable melting-in-your-hand fiasco.
"Okay, we have our guesses." Kate nods, rests her chin in her open palm as Alexis goes first. "First guess: teacher."
She shakes her head. "Nope."
Rick takes the next one. "A doctor, either human or animal."
Another shake of her head accompanies the guess, and the pair continue to take turns with their guesses until they've completed their five guess limit.
"Zoologist!"
She laughs at that one, and he finds himself enthralled by the sound.
"A dancer!"
"A writer!"
The last one is Alexis's guess, and though he's almost positive he knows the answer he lets her go, chuckles at the disappointed look on his kid's face when they get yet another head shake.
"Okay, okay, we're obviously awful at this game. So, take pity on the poor father daughter pair and tell us what you do?"
Kate pretends to mull it over before she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, lets out a breath as if she's nervous about telling them what she does for some unknown reason.
"Detective, actually."
His eyes light up in time with his daughter's, twin gasps escaping. "No way, that is so cool!"
"Daddy don't ask her weird questions," is the first thing Alexis says to him, and it has Kate's brows furrowing though laughter floats from her lips. Alexis turns to Kate. "He asks people questions to get the details right and sometimes it's too much."
"I wasn't going to," he promises, turning to her. "Really, I wasn't. But I have to ask, what area? Vice? Narcotics? Ooh, robbery?"
She shakes her head. "Homicide."
The squeal that emanates from him is completely unplanned and his hand clamps over his mouth. "Sorry. That's just... that's so cool," he repeats, at a loss for other adjectives. Except... "And so hot."
Her head ducks, lips pursed as her hair falls to cover her face. Alexis tuts, shoves against her father's shoulder with an exasperated dad.
"Should we put up some decorations before the movie?" she asks, and he thinks for a moment.
"How about we start decorations while we watch the movie?"
"But then we won't pay attention to the movie."
He holds up a finger. "If we put on a movie we've seen a million times before it won't matter," he says. "Then we can finish the decorations and watch the movie we really want to pay attention to."
Alexis shrugs. "Okay."
"Well, I should get going," Kate says after a lull in the conversation, looking from Rick to Alexis. "Thank you for the hot chocolate, it was really very good."
"Go?" Alexis asks.
His kid has taken to Kate fairly quickly, likely because this stranger they'd watched freeze outside turned out to be a very kind homicide detective, and he watches the hesitation on Kate's face at the tone of Alexis's voice.
"I'm sorry, Alexis," she says, and it sounds genuine, as if she is sorry that the girl seems disappointed. "I'm on call tomorrow, so I should really get back into the city just in case."
"You're from the city?" Rick asks, grinning when she nods. "Us too. SoHo. We're practically neighbors!"
She offers a smile. "Thank you, again, both of you," she says, heading back towards the porch to make her exit.
Rick follows, to see her out even though he doesn't really want her to go yet either, but as he comes up behind her he realizes that the snow's picked up; it was a blizzard before, but right now it's completely white. He can barely see five feet beyond his window, the ocean a distant memory as it's clouded by flurries and flakes.
"Hey, why don't you stay here?" he offers, watches her pivot on the spot to stare at him. "The weather is awful, and I don't know how you got here but I really would not feel comfortable letting you go drive in those conditions."
"I'm a cop, you know. I can take care of myself."
"Of that I have no doubt," he promises, holding his palms up in surrender. "I'm positive you kick ass and take names every day you're on the job and that you can take care of yourself against suspects and bad guys, but I don't think mother nature cares all that much about whether or not you're a detective. I'd just... really hate for you to leave in this and then have to read in the papers about a cop who fell victim to dangerous driving conditions."
Sighing, she turns from him to look out at the winter wonderland coming to life before them.
"Humor me?" he tries again, and when he feels Alexis come up beside him, he wraps an arm around her shoulder. "Humor us?"
"You could help us decorate the tree," Alexis says. "There are a bunch of ornaments and you're tall so you can help me reach the high branches! Oh, and dinner. We're making pasta!"
Kate hesitates. "Oh, I couldn't—you really don't have to."
"Actually, you'd be helping us. Right, Pumpkin?" He nudges her shoulder, gets a laugh from the girl when she agrees. "Alexis here isn't quite tall enough to reach some of the branches she wants to hang decorations on. She doesn't ever want to let dear old dad help, but apparently she's willing to let you."
"I let you!"
"You don't," he counters playfully, picking her up and holding her wriggling body under his arm. "So, what do you say? Avoid the cold, aid the less fortunate with decorations? Plus, you'd be getting some incredible food if I do say so myself."
She huffs. "I'd hardly say you're the less fortunate," she says before taking a breath, her eyes raking over the two of them before she purses her lips. "Okay."
Alexis manages to wiggle from his grasp at that, an excited yes! falling from her lips as she skids into the living room, already rummaging through boxes.
"I really wasn't trying to corner you," he tells her once Alexis is out of earshot. "I promise. It's just so awful outside right now and I'd hate to see something happen because the roads are so icy."
"I know," she says, and some of the nerves deflate. "It's... sweet. I could get back home just fine, but it's... you're probably right, it's better to wait it out."
Rick grins. "Agreed. Now, shall we join my kid before she has the entire bottom of the Christmas tree in all turtle dove ornaments?"
"That implies that you have enough turtle dove ornaments to cover the entire bottom of the tree."
"It does."
"You do?"
"We do."
He revels in her laugh; it's light, genuine.
In an hours time, they've managed to completely decorate the tree, ornaments of every color and theme placed delicately and precisely. Tinsel rounds the circumference, parallel to two separate sets of lights, one white and one that blinks a melody of colors. Kate did help Alexis put the decorations on the top, alternating between taking the girl's direction and placing them where she wants them and lifting her easily to let her hang them (mostly) on her own.
It warms his heart, how sweet she is with his kid, how she doesn't even seem the slightest bit uncomfortable anymore. At first he could tell she didn't know what to do, what she should do, and that she felt a bit out of place helping decorate a near-stranger's tree. It only took one encouraging, simple request for help, an opinion from Alexis to get her to work, to pull her into the swing of things.
As a trio, they've made a gorgeous tree come to life, he thinks.
"It's beautiful," Alexis comments as they stand back, each staring at the now lit up tree, surrounded by other Christmas decorations on the walls, the staircase, the mantle of the fireplace. The tree was the only thing left unfinished.
"It really is a gorgeous tree," Kate agrees, stuffing her hands into her pockets.
"Thank you for your help, it made all the difference."
Alexis nods her agreement. "Yes! Thank you, Kate!"
Kate smiles in response, offers a small nod of her head and tries to wave off the thanks, insists that she didn't really do anything except help with a few height issues. He realizes she's not that great at taking compliments or thank yous, almost as if she doesn't enjoy them (because there's no way that she's unused to receiving them; he refuses to believe it possible).
After dinner they all end up in the living room with popcorn and While You Were Sleeping on the television, a movie Alexis hasn't seen but has apparently heard lots about from school friends, and the girl insists she sit next to Kate. The woman doesn't mind, and he swears she seems to relax when his daughter curls in beside her, her own small bowl of popcorn balanced on her thigh, propped up partly by Kate's as well.
He spends the majority of the movie watching her—it's not creepy if the lights are out and she can't see him, he reasons—and the laughs, the smiles the movie pulls from her.
Alexis falls asleep towards the end, the excitement of the day no doubt taking a toll on her small body, and when the credits roll he switches the light back on. Removing the slanted bowl from her fingers, he places it on the table and moves to extricate his kid from where she'd listed against their guest.
"Sorry," he whispers, lifting her into his arms. "I'll just take her upstairs."
Kate shakes her head. "It's not a problem," she assures him easily. "She was warm."
Rick chuckles. "Yeah. She's like a little heated blanket, this one." He shifts her in his grip, hoisting her onto his hip. "I'll be right back."
When he returns, he finds Kate meandering by the fireplace, looking at all of the framed photos and little trinkets they have on display. Most are of Alexis growing up, some of the two of them and others with his mother. Christmas decorations line the fireplace, stockings hung as per tradition and a row of lights run along the edge. A smaller, white Christmas tree sits in the middle of the shelf, and he watches her fingers brush along the bristles of the branches, oh so delicately.
He doesn't want to disturb her, so he observes as she takes in everything and waits until she's paused, seemingly finished, to make his entrance.
"You really go all out," she says with a small smile, head twisted towards him at the sound of his footsteps. "It's nice."
"Christmas is a favorite in this household. It's not as done up as the loft, but it's just something festive for when we come here during the holidays."
Kate hums. "I was wondering why, when you said you were from SoHo, you were out here at the beach for Christmas."
"Ah, well, Alexis wanted to see the beach covered in snow. Said it's 'peaceful', I believe her words were. Sounds like someone else, too."
She laughs. "Yeah, you could say that."
"Listen, I know this may seem weird because we only met a few hours ago, but you should—I mean if you wouldn't be too uncomfortable, of course, no pressure—stay the night." Her brows lift practically into her hairline, so he continues. "I have a guest bedroom," he adds. "Everything's clean, and it's a warm place for you to crash instead of trying to drive back to the city this late."
"I shouldn't," she drags out, trails off as she looks down at her socked feet.
"But... you will?" he hedges, a hint of hopefulness in his voice.
Shaking her head, the slight grin she's trying to hide betrays her look of reproach. "But I will," she concedes. "I'm... I'm actually pretty tired, and I don't think it'd be all that smart to take the bike back right now with these roads."
He'll get to the part where she actually agreed to stay the night in a second, but first he's too preoccupied by...
"Bike?" His voice is just shy of a full on squeak and that gets a full laugh out of her. "You have a bike? You ride? You rode a bike here?"
"You do know all of those are essentially the same question, right?"
"I—yes, yes I do and I just need the answer to one of them, please."
Setting her gaze on him now, she bites at the inside of her cheek. "The answer to all of the above is yes."
"That makes you... even hotter. Wow." She cocks her head, gives a small shake as a tinge of pink appears on her cheeks. "In all seriousness, I'm glad you aren't going to try to ride on these roads right now. I'll show you to the guest room?"
At her nod, he ascends the stairs with her at his heels and leads her down the hall to the third room on the right.
"This is it," he says, stepping in to switch on the light. "Sheets are clean, toiletries are all in the bathroom already, and... oh, pajamas." He pauses, looks at her and then holds up a finger before she can voice the protest he knows is on the tip of her tongue. He returns with a pair of sweatpants and shorts for her to choose from, and one of his smaller t-shirts. "Here. They might be a bit big, but I figure they'll be better than the damp clothes you've been in."
"Thank you."
"If you need anything, my room is right down the hall."
"I'll keep that in mind, Castle," she says, cradling the bundle of clothes to her chest as she turns away from him.
It takes a few seconds before it hits him. "Hey." Her stride halts. "I never told you my last name," he says, the smile in his voice audible. "Are you a fan, Kate... I don't even know your last name."
Her only response is a smirk over her shoulder, a wiggle of her fingers in lieu of a wave as she disappears into the guest room's bathroom to change.
In the morning, he wakes to find the snowstorm has cleared and the guest room empty.
He's disappointed for a moment, disappointed he didn't get to say goodbye and that he'll likely never see Kate again, until he wanders into the room and finds a folded note atop the comforter.
Thank you for last night. You and your daughter were the pick me up I needed, and you have no idea how much that small dose of fun helped. I really do have to get back to the city in case I'm called into work, hence the early departure, so I'm sorry I couldn't say this in person.
The city's big, but maybe we'll see each other again. Tell Alexis I said Merry Christmas.
Kate
P.s. It's Beckett.
The letter leaves a smile on his face, a warmth in his chest. She's gone, but she left a note—that's something, right? Although... It's Beckett. What's Beckett? It takes a minute of mulling it over, trying to understand what that means, before he realizes. It's Beckett.
Her last name, it's Beckett.
Kate Beckett. It's a nice name, a strong name. A detective name. It suits her.
Note tucked safely between his fingers, he makes his way downstairs with a bounce in his step and a mental note to search her. He has a full name, an occupation, and he knows she works in the city. That's all he needs, really; how many Detective Kate Becketts could there be in New York City?
Maybe we'll see each other again.
"Oh we'll meet again, Kate Beckett," he whispers into his morning coffee. "We'll definitely meet again."