Prompt: We're both at the grocery store at night, we both had a kinda bad day and you decide to talk to me because apparently I look like I need the company.

ice cream and coffee stains

She huffs as she pulls her jacket closer around her body. It's cold – it's not supposed to be that cold in September, not even at ten pm. Or maybe she's just too tired. She already regrets that she decided to walk those few blocks from the precinct to her apartment. She's still glad she left her uniform at work, hates to wear it when she's off duty. Even if it's a lot warmer than her plain purple cotton shirt and the black leather jacket. It doesn't really matter, though, because she's just going to grab something for dinner and head home. She can almost feel her couch calling her name.

She could always order in, does so most nights, especially when she's as late as she's now. But tonight she feels like cooking. Well, heating up some frozen meal and maybe open a bottle of wine. Wine, she remembers, she also needs to buy a bottle if she wants a glass because her place is out of anything edible and drinkable. Good job, Katherine Beckett. But she just had a double shift (because it has to be flu season right now) and a hell of a case.

She's still new in homicide, just three short months since she got promoted, and dead bodies are something she still needs to get used to – it's just so much different from vice. Better, in a lot of ways because homicide is what she wants, the only place she can picture herself in when she becomes a Detective someday. Today, though... it's just that dead mothers are especially hard. Even more so when the Detectives tell her to stay with the kids while they talk to the father.

Two kids. A girl, Melissa, seventeen and a boy, Henry, thirteen. That was not something she was prepared for when she got up that morning. The girl was in shock, she just sat there, motionless with haunted eyes looking somewhere into the distance. She didn't even say a single word the whole time she was with them – she barely shook her head when she asked them if she could bring them a water or something else. Henry on the other hand... he cried, asked who hurt his mom.

She didn't know why someone would shoot a doctor, a mother of two in the head and so she couldn't give that little boy the answers he were looking for. And that's probably the worst of it all.

She goes for the wine first, picks a red, a brand she never tried before, still trying to find the one she likes best so right now she chooses her wine based on how pretty the bottle is. She moves to the frozen section afterwards, walks past veggies and ice creams and stops by the meals. Maybe, maybe she should order in, she thinks as she eyes the lasagna. Her eyes travel to something that says it's mac 'n cheese. It would sound good, usually, but that doesn't really look too good and neither does the lasagna.

"I really hope that you don't think about getting any of those," a male voice says from behind, amusement clearly noticeable. She's pissed already, because why would anyone get the idea that it's okay to annoy her in a stupid grocery store? She turns around, ready to fight him off with a snaky remark until–

She almost drops the her wine. Fuck, she's seen that face, seen those blue eyes before. Well, just on pictures (if one doesn't count that one time she waited for over an hour for one autograph and a fifteen second conversation) but still, he's looking... at her. She looks to the side, tries to see if there's someone else he's might be talking to but no, he's watching her.

"I don't even know why you care about my dinner," she says, maybe a little too bitter, a little too tired. She won't let him know that she knows who he is.

He looks smudge, eyebrows quirked and a smile tugs on one corner of his lips.

"Well, the thing is, usually I wouldn't," he starts and she thinks that maybe he's standing a little too close for her liking. But maybe it's just because he's her favorite author, she's hungry and he smells good. Really? "But when I see beautiful, sad looking women trying to decide which of those," his hand lifts in direction to her dinner options half-heartly, "is going to be their dinner, there is something I have to do about that."

It's her turn to quirk an eyebrow at him as she folds her arms in front of her body (which is a little hard with the wine bottle in one hand). He really thinks he's so funny.

"So that's why you spend your Tuesday night in a grocery store?"

He just shrugs his shoulders. "That, and I wanted ice cream," he holds up a giant container of chocolate chip ice cream. She sees whipped cream, marshmallows and chocolate sprinkles in his other hand. There's a boyish grin on his face now and she's... confused to say at last.

By this day, this situation and yes, by him too.

"Well, thanks for your concern," she says and moves out of his way to walk away before she stops in her tracks, turns halfway back to him. He hasn't moved, keeps looking at her. "I'm not sad by the way," and with that she turns around to completely walks away. It's true, she's not sad... much. Just a hard day, not the first, not the last.

"Hey, wait," he calls after her and she rolls her eyes when she stands.

"What?" she spats when she turns back to him and he just smiles a little wider, sure of himself and his eyes sparkle as they roam her for a moment. She tells herself that it makes her uncomfortable because it should. It doesn't, though, but she won't even admit that to anyone.

"You forgot your dinner," he laughs, scrunches his nose at the word dinner, and okay, she did walk right into that one.

"Thank you," she mumbles a little awkwardly, her eyes not meeting his as she walks past him to grab something out of the freezer. She's at the register when she realizes that in the hurry she grabbed something with meat balls and rice and it looks even more disgusting than the other things she contemplated about buying earlier.

Just great. But she's not going to go back there. So she pays for her dinner and storms out, mood even worse than before, still not really able to understand that she just talked to Richard Castle, that he just casually talked her up in a freaking grocery store. She probably wouldn't be able to succeed with her plan to curl up with his latest book on the couch tonight. Not anymore.

"Hey," she hears again, as soon as she steps outside, the cold air hitting her and seeking right into her bones.

When she turns around (why does she even do that when she could just walk away?) he's there, a little out of breath like he ran after her... without his ice cream she notices. Did he really left it inside to follow her? She aches an eyebrow in question, makes him continue.

"Do you want to have coffee?" He asks a boyish grin playing on his lip.

"Coffee?"

"Yeah, you know it's a drink based on roasted beans, coffee beans. Sharp and strong in it's natural way but sweet with milk and sugar. It's very deli–"

"I do know what coffee is." She lives off of coffee. And she's – confused. Even more so than just a few minutes before. Is he really doing what she thinks he's doing?

"Well then, I could use a cup and if you want to join me, there's this place..."

He is. And she's not really listening because her favorite author just asked her to go out for a coffee at freaking ten pm. She shouldn't stand there looking at him like he's speaking a foreign language and maybe he looks... hopeful. Hopeful and a little nervous and she also wonders why.

"And exactly why should I do that?"

She doesn't really know why but half an hour later she finds herself in the corner of a small diner just a few blocks from that grocery store, him on the other side, throwing glances at her while she pretends to look at the menu. Well, she knows why, mostly, and he wasn't to shy to point it out earlier. First it's cold outside and coffee would warm them up and second... they're supposed to serve good sandwiches and everything sounds better than frozen meat balls right now.

Food, she's only here for the food and not for anything else. Him – she's definitively not here for him.

They are silent for a few minutes after they both put their menus down, waiting for the waitress to bring them coffee and take their orders. She's looking at her hands, picking at one of her nails and she wonders when she picked up that habit and why she even bothers to be somewhat nervous. And maybe she's still slightly more than annoyed because she actually could be on her couch right now with a book and a blanked and a glass of red from the bottle that currently rests in the bag by her feet.

But then a steaming cup of coffee gets placed in front of her and the aroma instantly clears her senses. A small amount of the black liquid sloshes over the rim of her mug and he is quick to take a napkin to clean up the mess, tells the apologizing waitress that it's really okay with a smile on his face.

They're alone after they both order and it's kinda weird. Really, really weird actually. But – for some reason – not unpleasant.

"So, Kate,– " he says her name deep and personal and she feels her cheeks warm under his gaze. He's been saying her name repentantly since she told him. It's a nice change to the usual Beckett she only ever hears anymore. "–tell me something about yourself."

This question takes her a little off guard and makes this feel far too date like. She always thought that he's someone who likes to talk about himself, to hear his own voice. And maybe he does, she heard it in the cockiness and confidence of his voice but he's also observant, and kind of nice and somehow easy to get along.

"I'm– There isn't really much to tell," she says and her teeth sink almost involuntary down onto her bottom lip. He looks at her with something that she can't quite place.

"Ah, I think there's plenty to tell. Let's start with, I don't know, what do you do for a living?"

And here they go – this is the part where they always run. Not like this is a date or anything but telling someone that you're a female cop (in homicide) is the best way to get out before there even is a chance to start.

"I work with the NYPD, I'm a police officer," she says anyway because it is nothing to be ashamed of and she loves what she does – or, she loves the justice – and this is not a date and a little honesty can't be wrong. It's close to eleven now and she's tired, maybe exhaustion is letting her guards tumble. Or maybe it's just the gaze he fixes her with, something like awe in his eyes which makes her completely uncomfortable and warm on the same time.

It doesn't really feel like she's sitting across from a celebrity, someone she's been looking up to, adored for quite a few years now. He's just a man she met at the grocery store and his eyes are big and he smiles like a little boy on Christmas.

"Really? That is so cool," she can't help but smile at that. He's kind of adorable. A word she never thought she'd use in comparison to him.

And, well, if she really thinks about it she isn't that shocked that he's amazed by her profession. He kills people for a living.

"Yep, homicide," she says nonchalantly, building up courage in his eyes, his jaw basically drops to the floor. Oh, he's too easy. She sees that he wants to say something but he gulps and before he has the opportunity to open his mouth their food is placed in front of them.

He's not even slightly how she would have pictured Richard Castle to be. Not even close.

He's funny and easy to talk to not nearly as arrogant as she heard he is. He has his moments but he's actually very pleasant. And she likes it (not that she would admit that to anyone). He's interesting and asks her questions about her job. Real questions, not those creepy ones she usually gets, he asks about police work and her weirdest cases and why she became a police officer in the first place.

She smiles at him then, tries to look convincing when she knows she fails. An hour and he's already good at reading her. He clears his throat and maybe he felt her uncomfortableness because he drops the question and asks if she caught a murderer today.

"I'm just a uniform," she informs him, "killer catching is a detectives job."

"I bet you'll make an awesome detective one day," he shrugs.

"How do you know know I want to be a detective?" She quirks an eyebrow at him before taking the last bite of her sandwich. The refill of their coffees already dry on the ground of those cold white porcelain cups. Maybe they should get one more, she's not quite ready to go home just yet.

"Just look at you," he scoffs, "you basically scream power. You're so going to make all those poor bastards bleed in interrogation." She laughs at that because he looks like he's deadly honest right now.

He calls the waitress and asks for two cupcakes. Well, maybe he's not ready to let this night end either.

"Just answer me one thing," she says around a mouth full of chocolate a few minutes later. He nods at her, indicates for her to continue.

"Ten pm and ice cream."

He laughs and his eyes are shining in a bright blue and she can't help but chuckle with him.

"Well," he starts and something like a shadow crosses his face, just the split of a second before it's replaced with his joyfulness again. "I was lonely."

"Lonely, really?" She asks. She can't really imagine Richard Castle to be lonely. Not that she lets him know that, because he thinks that she thinks he's just Rick. And maybe he is just Rick. To her he definitively is.

"Let me explain," he winks at her. "I have a daughter. She's almost twelve, most adorable child you'll ever see. And I'm not saying that because I'm her father. Anyway, I'm not going to bother you with my life, but–" not that she would really mind. She finds herself wanting to know things about him. "But she spends the week in LA with her mother. My daughter lives with me and it's the first time that I'm not with her. Usually her mother comes to visit or I take her to LA to see her mother but I had important work related appointments this week."

He looks a little sad and she wonders if it would cross too many lines to brush her fingers over his on the table. They are just strangers after all. "It's stupid, I know. I mean, my mother, her grandmother, took her to LA, spends the week at a spa there. My ex wife is just not the most responsible person."

Her heart warms for him and she gently shakes her head. "You really care about her, you're a good father."

He smiles at her like he believes her, like she said just the right thing.

"But wine and frozen comfort food, really?"

He makes her laugh and she knows it's her turn to share the story of why they even met that night. He told her his.

"There are those obvious cases," she starts. "You know from the beginning who killed whom and why. There is a reason behind every crime we witness. Some are weird or creepy, more brutal than the others. But there is someone responsible, someone to blame, a way to give justice to the dead, to tell the families why, you know," she's rambling. He makes her talk about things she likes to bury deep within.

She swallows the lump in her throat as her fingers play with the crumbles of her desert. She glances up at him for a moment and all his attention is on her. "And then once in a while you get those cases and you just don't have any answers. There's a family who needs to know and you really want to tell them and give them all the answers they deserve but you can't."

She breaks off because she already said too much. His fingers are twitching and she knows he wants to touch her and she's glad he doesn't. He just looks at her with gentle eyes and an understanding that makes her crave things.

"Well, then I'm glad I convinced to you come with me then," he says and she stares at him in confusion.

"What?"

"Can't you see it? I obviously saved you from your misery. A bad day? Sucks. Horrible food? Sucks. But a bad day and horrible food? Worst case scenario."

She laughs as she throws a napkin at him, hitting his forehead. "How would I've survived?"

She doesn't let him walk her home. He asks but she tells him that she's a big girl. Her heart picks up on speed when he leans in to press a kiss against her cheek, barely a touch of his lips to her skin.

"Can I see you again?" He asks hopeful and she can't help the smirk that makes it's way on her face. Her teeth graze her bottom lip as she looks up at him, mischief in her eyes.

"You do know where to find me, Mr. Castle."

She can feel his eyes on the back of her head when she turns around and walks away. Maybe today wasn't that bad after all.