Demitasse: "Half cup" in French; a half-size or three-ounce cup used primarily for espresso coffee.
Demitasse
The text comes through at 11:26 and Castle stumbles up out of his desk chair, phone clutched tight in both hands. An unknown number, but already his heart soars, battering against the cage of his ribs. Hurrying for the bedroom, Rick makes a detour to the dresser to grab a pair of socks and moves to sit heavily on the end of the bed.
A memory comes like a fist around his throat and he bows his head, breathes carefully to let it pass without incident. Earlier in the year, after everything went down with Tyson, Kate had gone through a phase of stealing his clothes. It started with sweaters, because they're huge on her and she curls up inside and peeks at him, her fingers tucked into the sleeves. And then his socks too, feet in his lap on the couch and her toes wiggling.
It got to the point where he didn't have any socks one morning, fingertips scrabbling against the empty bottom of his drawer. Rick had corralled his wife in the kitchen, arms sliding low around her waist to back her up against the counter. He meant to ask her to stop stealing his socks, or at least put them through the laundry, but she had stretched up onto tiptoe and kissed him and he had suddenly stopped caring.
He bought himself more socks, gave all of his previous ones to his wife. After she left, he couldn't bear to rummage around and see what was missing, but he hopes that Kate took at least one pair with her. Something of home, something of him.
It's late; a yawn has his jaw aching and he scrubs a hand over his chin, feels the prickle of regrowth there. His phone is on the bed beside him and he scoops it up, reads the message again.
Can we meet? Nina's place, ten minutes.
Castle only has eight left now and he toes his way into his sneakers, glad that he didn't change into pajamas yet. He was at his desk, finalising the plans for his Halloween party and trying to resist his temptation to just cancel the whole thing. The hope that she might come, might give herself one night to play host with him, keeps him buoyant and he signed off on the catering and the decorations.
He loses another two minutes hunting for a jacket, finds it hung up in the closet by the front door, and then he's hurrying out of the loft and down the stairs. His calves burn as he swallows the steps and he grunts through it, huffs a ragged breath from his nose when that old skiing injury hums its early warning.
Nina's place is a coffee shop. The cafe itself isn't called that - he really couldn't tell you what the name is - but he and Kate are friends with the owner, Nina. She mothers them both, always tutting about how skinny Beckett is whenever they drop by on a lazy Sunday morning. Producing donuts and bear claws and hot chocolate laden with cream, watching them from behind the counter to make sure that Kate gets her fill.
The place feels safe for them both, somewhere they used to haunt back when their relationship was still a secret. In fact, the first time they went together had been before they were dating, before that rain-soaked night. Sometime after the sniper case, if he's remembering right.
Kate texted and asked to meet him. He got the feeling that she didn't want to be alone with her thoughts, and pride had puffed up in his chest at being the person she chose, the one she trusted to spend time with. Since then it's been a fairly frequent haunt of theirs, more popular still since they got married.
It's only a block away from the loft and he makes it in record time, slams his way through the door. It sets the bell hanging over the entrance clattering wildly and he winces, does a slow turn to take in the room. It's quiet, a single frazzled college student bent double over a notepad and scribbling furiously, and Rick scrapes a hand over his face.
Right.
She probably got cold feet. Or something came up with whatever the hell it is she's doing. God, maybe she's bleeding out in a gutter somewhere right now. Why is he wasting time?
Castle spins on his heel and yanks the door open again, freezing when a voice rings out through the coffee shop.
"Ciao, Richard."
"Hey Nina," he says, closing the door for a second time and turning back around to face the owner. She's wiping her hands on the apron tied at her waist and she comes around the counter to him.
Two fingers land at his forearm and she dips her head, forcing him to bend in close just to hear her. "She's in back. Not looking so hot. Told me to send you through."
"Right," he swallows, his thumb rubbing over his wedding band to warm the metal. It's a habit he's picked up since she left, and he keeps coming up against the pitying looks of his mother and Alexis whenever they catch him at it. "Thank you, Nina. Can I get our usual?"
"Miss Kate already has your drinks," Nina says, pushing on his arm to get him to move.
He goes, stumbling his way around the counter and through the swinging door. The room back here is mostly storage, but there's a couch too, and his wife is curled up small on it. Her shoes are on the floor beside her and both arms wrap around her knees, her chin pillowed on them.
"You came," she breathes when he comes inside. For a moment he's arrested in the entryway, can't quite believe that she's willing to talk to him, and then the door swings closed and smacks him in the ass, makes him grunt. Kate lets her legs drop, looks as if she's about to get up, but he hurries to sit on the couch with her instead.
An arm slides around her shoulders and he hauls her in close, his lips at the crown of her head. "Of course I came. I told you. Together. That's what I want."
"It's what I want too," she says, her fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. Kate scrubs her face against his chest and breathes deeply, the tension draining out of her like water circling a drain. "I want to be with you. I want to come home."
"So come home," he says easily, and his wife lifts up out of his arms.
There are two mugs on the side table, steam curling up from them both, and she hands one over to him. Castle takes it gratefully and lifts it to his mouth, letting the coffee fog cling to the cliff edge of his jaw. Kate leaves her mug on the table, picking at the knee of her jeans instead, and sorrow crumples her face.
"I can't. Castle, you know that I. . .I'm not built to let it go. I have to get justice."
"I'm not asking you to let it go," he says, plucking her hand away from the denim of her pants so that he can knot their fingers together. "Kate, I know you. I know you're a crusader. It's one of the reasons that I love you. I'd never ask you to give that up."
Pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, Kate growls low in her throat and closes her eyes. Her spine is stiff now, a straight and unyielding line, and he really hopes that their almost-hug is not the only thing he's going to get from her tonight.
"I wish that I could. I want to get this over with as soon as I can. I want to come home. I miss you."
"I miss you too," he settles his palm against her cheek and smoothes his thumb over the soft skin beneath her eye. "So let's do this together. You and me. You don't have to choose, Kate. You can have justice and also have me."
His wife grits her teeth and that jagged vein in her forehead pulses its purple despair. "No, I can't. I won't put you in danger."
"Don't you think I'm already in danger?" he says gently, and her head snaps up. "I'm not trying to scare you, honey, but I'm your husband. That makes me an automatic target. If someone's after you, there's nothing to stop them from coming after me."
"That's why I had to leave," Kate pulls her fingers out of his grip, but she's clasping his hand in both of hers before grief gets a chance to chew at him. "Babe, I don't want to be doing this. Please believe me when I say that this is all temporary, and I'm doing it to keep what we have safe. Leaving you is. . .nothing has hurt like this, Rick. Nothing."
Bending down, Castle puts his mug on the floor to free up his hands. One slides into Kate's hair and rests against the curve of her skull, holding her in place as he leans in and kisses her forehead. Her breath washes over his chin in hot, desperate little puffs and he stays right where he is, nose buried in her hair.
"I love you, Kate. You're my partner. I just want to help."
"I know," she hums, tipping her chin up to catch his mouth. It's the first time in a week that he's kissed her and he groans, tongue slicking past the seam of her lips. Kate fists a hand in the collar of his shirt and moans around the intrusion of his tongue, pulling back enough to bite at his bottom lip. He jerks, and it seems to shock her into sobriety because she tugs away from the kiss entirely. "The best thing that you can do to help me is give me space to work through this. I need to put it behind me."
"Okay," he promises, chasing after her until their foreheads meet. His nose nudges hers and he smiles, the hand still in her hair sliding down to her nape now, fingertips digging into the knot of tension she carries around. "You can have time. You can have space. But I need this. I need to see you, Kate. I'm going insane not knowing where you are, what you're doing."
A hand comes up and Kate's fingers curl around the shell of his ear, clinging. "You've got me. I haven't left you, Castle. You know that if you need me, I'm here."
"But you have left me," he cries out, rearing away from her touch. He feels like a little boy, watching his mother leave for the theatre and hiding in his bedroom from the nanny and her horrid, too-long nails. "I need you every minute of the day."
"I want a baby," Kate blurts out and he chokes out a strangled noise, sagging back against the arm of the couch. His mouth opens, but his voice is curiously absent and he can only stare at her. "I want a baby, and a dog. I want family vacations, and Sundays in the park. I want the life that we were working to build, but I can't go on like normal knowing that there's a chance it might be snatched away."
He manages a nod, clearing his throat, and he reaches for her hand again. Her fingers are thinner than he remembers, her knuckles almost bulbous. "I want that too. You know that I do. I just don't see how it's possible if you're gone. And everyone- I can't take the pity, Kate. I tell people that you're coming back, that this isn't forever, but they look at me like I'm deluded. Even Lucy suggested a divorce."
"No," she wails, clutching tighter at him, and she swipes her fingertips against her cheek. They come away dry, but her mouth hangs open like a rotten thing, strings of flesh keeping her jaw attached. "I don't want a divorce, Castle, please. I want forever with you."
"Hey, shh, no," he brings her in against his chest again, both arms tight around her shoulders, and he touches his lips the part of her he can reach. Her eyebrow, mostly, his kiss a wet smear that makes her huff a breath. "I don't want a divorce, honey. Not ever. I trust you, and I love you, and I know you're coming back."
"Yeah, I- hold on," Kate struggles out of his embrace and sits up, folding her arms across her chest and staring him down. "Who is Lucy?"
He laughs, God help him. His wife is frowning something fierce now, her body ticking with quiet rage, and he covers his mouth with a palm and scrunches his eyes closed. When he gets it together, Kate is still grim and silent, and he tucks the spill of her hair back behind one ear.
"Lucy is my new home operating system. You have nothing to be jealous of, Beckett. Trust me. You're the only thing I can think about."
"Not jealous," she grumbles, turning her face away from him.
It lets him have the element of surprise and he swoops in, opening his mouth against her jaw. The place high up by her ear, where her pulse thumps hot and strong and her skin is as soft as the inside of two am. Kate sighs and tilts her head, her hand falling to his knee and squeezing.
"I missed you," he says into her skin. Castle fists his hand and digs his knuckles in just underneath his wife's navel, makes her gasp and fold around his arm. "I need you, Kate."
"I can't," she says, something close to a sob escaping her, and she squirms underneath his touch. He lets her go when she struggles, folds his hands carefully and traps them between his knees so that he doesn't reach for her again. "We can't do this. It's not fair to you. Not when I can't give you everything that you want."
Castle tilts his head to look at her, watches the way she hooks her fingers in each piece of herself and draws it in close to her chest. Enough of this.
Yes. It hurts. He's hurting, and he finds himself constantly toppling into the great chasm of her absence, but it doesn't have to be like this. They still love each other, and it doesn't have to be catastrophic. "Did you like my glasses? And the bow tie."
"You know I did," she huffs, peering at him from between the splay of her fingertips. "God, Castle, it's not- I didn't leave because I'm not attracted to you. You know that, right?"
"I know," he says firmly. "You left to protect our life together, and to keep me safe. I don't like it, Kate, and I wish you'd be honest with me, but I do understand. And I still have hope."
Kate drops her hands from her face and reaches for him, one knee coming up to the couch cushion. Her body is vertiginous with something like relief and she topples towards him, her skull crashing against his clavicle.
"More than hope," she murmurs, fingers tugging on his shirt to untuck it from his pants and slipping inside, searching for warm skin. She's drawn again and again to that soft place underneath his ribcage and her fingertips flirt there now, her touch like little kisses. "You can be certain, Castle. I love you, and I'm coming home. As soon as I can."
She stands then, sifting her fingers through the spill of his hair. He catches hold of her wrist and tugs, the thought of her leaving him here making sick panic coagulate at the base of his throat. "Kate. Can we- same time next week?"
"Get a burner," she nods once, picking his mug up from the floor and collecting her own as well. "Text me. And wait five minutes before you leave here, okay?"
"Okay," he promises, standing up from the couch and sliding his arms around her. His palms span wide at her hipbones and he drags her in close, dips his head to kiss her again. "Kate? I love you. No matter what anybody else thinks. And I can't wait for the day you come home."
Her forehead rests against the edge of his jaw and she hooks two fingers in the pocket of his pants, her breathing shaky and brittle. "I'm working on it, Castle. I'll be home soon."
"In the meantime," he says, forcing himself to be the one to break away. "See you here next week."
A/N: Okay, so I think this might become a thing? I don't know yet, we'll see what happens next week, but I'm kind of attached to the idea of them needing some kind of secret tryst, so this was born. Let me know if you'd like it to continue or you'd rather I focused on individual episodes.
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Twitter: seilleanmor