"The point of stories set in alternate universes are to show that no matter what setting or circumstance, these two people will always find each other. I will find you. Every me loves every you."
deimosluna
"Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together?
Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences."
Emery Allen
stuck-in-an-airport-because-the-flights-were-SO-VERY-delayed-and-it's-like-two-am AU
Growling low down in her throat, Kate does an about-face and stalks away from the Starbucks counter, shoving her wallet down into the cavernous reaches of her trench coat pocket. The woman whose voice pours out of the loudspeaker over Kate's head sounds entirely unapologetic and she grits her teeth on her way to the flight desk, the fingernails of her free hand carving pale little crescent moons into the meat of her palm.
At the desk, a heavyset man gulps at the slam of Kate's badge down onto the countertop and winces, a bead of sweat taking a slick dive down the side of his face. "Uh, ma'am"
"Detective." Kate says sharply, tapping two fingers against the gold plating of her shield. "I need to know what's going on. I have to be back in New York tonight."
"Yes, Detective. I understand that. There's just nothing we can do, the weather. . ." The man - Gareth - so says the lurid orange name tag above his breast - swallows hard and trails off at the glare Kate sends his way. A hand floats at her hip, searching for the phantom bulge of her piece, but she's been naked and vulnerable without it for the entire weekend.
Granted, she hasn't exactly had much cause to use it over the course of the ridiculous Sexual Harassment in the Workplace seminar her captain had her attend. Out of the city of course, of course, and now she's stranded in Washington until the storm that has the sky blooming in a melange of purpling haematoma passes over their heads.
Kate tugs her gaze away from the windows and refocuses on Gareth and the raw meat sweat of his face. "Right. Thank you." She manages, earning herself a crooked sort of twitch at the corner of Gareth's mouth that might be a smile.
Hoisting her weekender bag higher up onto her shoulder, Kate rotates her neck until she feels the muscles pop and relax. All she wanted was to get home and take a blistering bath, maybe drink a glass of wine. But no. No. Now she gets to spend the night on the floor of the airport.
She makes the walk through the terminal and to the gate they were supposed to board from, letting herself get adopted into the folds of people that meander along the roadways of the airport. It's almost nice, the kinship she feels with all of these other stranded people.
At the gate people are gathering in clusters and settling in for the long haul, bags thumped and arranged into pillows to lend almost-comfort to bodies that already ache with indignation. Kate sinks all the way down to the floor and leans against her own holdall, dropping her head into her hands. She should call her captain really, let him know that she's not going to make her six am shift tomorrow, but she just can't face that conversation right now. Stupid, hot tears prickle at the corners of her eyes and she squeezes them closed, forces it back. She will not cry in the airport just because of a flight cancellation.
A sinking weight at her side makes her startle and Kate lifts her head, hand flying to her hip once again in search of her absent Glock. Frustration makes her bristle and she frowns at the man settling in next to her, a cell phone pressed close against his ear.
"Yes honey, I know. I know. I'm sorry. I'll get home as soon as I can. Alright. See you soon. I love you." Kate wrinkles her nose and pretends she isn't listening to every word of the conversation. As a detective, she has a finely honed and well-worn poker face, and she employs it now to keep this handsome stranger from realising she's listening in to his conversation with his wife.
He ends his call and drops his phone onto his thigh, rolling broad shoulders inside the sharp edges of his jacket. No ring on his finger, Kate notices, so most likely it's a clingy girlfriend instead. The stranger grits out a sigh and drops his head back against the wall, scrubbing a hand over his face.
The roughshod tread of guilt and sadness over the man's face makes pity spark in Kate's chest and she clears her throat, catches his attention. "It'll be okay. You'll make it home, I'm sure."
"Oh!" The man's eyes pop open and he twists his head, pins Kate like a specimen spreadeagled on a table top with his stare. "I'm. . .sitting really close to you. Wow. Sorry."
"Don't worry about it." She grins, flicking her eyes to the cell phone still balanced precariously at his thigh. "You were distracted. Girlfriend?"
"Uh, no. My daughter actually. I'm supposed to be helping her with an assignment."
His daughter. Right. Kate stiffens a little and chews at her bottom lip, averts her eyes from this man. "You have a daughter? How old is she?"
"She's fifteen. Alexis." The man's whole face lights up at the mention of his little girl and he taps the button to unlock his phone, shows Kate his lock screen picture. A beautiful girl with a shock of fiery hair grins at the camera and Kate can't help but smile herself.
A doting father. She remembers what that's like, and her fragile heart feels scraped raw and bruised at the thought. "She's beautiful."
"She is. And very smart. She doesn't really need my help with her schoolwork. Just wants me to come home."
"What brings you to Washington?" Kate tries to frame her question as unobtrusively as possible, but she's naturally curious and this stranger has sparked something in her, opened a greedy maw in the pit of her stomach that hungers for knowledge.
Next to her, the man winces and steeples his fingers, pushes them together as if stretching the joints. "A book signing. I'm a writer."
"Oh? Anything I've heard of?"
"Um. . .Derrick Storm?"
"Really? I've read that series. You don't look much like your picture on the book jacket."
That earns her a burst of laughter and the man - Rick Castle, holy crap - shakes his head, a flush of embarrassment peppering his cheeks. "Yeah. That picture is pretty old now. I don't get recognised so often anymore."
"That must be a blessing though, right Rick?"
"I suppose it is. Especially when Alexis is with me." He shrugs, rests his head back against the wall again. It doesn't look entirely comfortable, the way his neck is torquing, but Kate finds herself echoing him anyway.
Turning her wrist over in her lap, Kate checks her watch and groans. "I'm seriously regretting picking such a late flight now."
"Tell me about it." Rick huffs, rolling his head to the side to look at her. His face is startlingly close, enough that her vision blurs, and Kate gets to her knees and moves away. From the wall and temptation both.
"I'm gonna grab coffee. You want some?"
Rick's face cracks open around a grin and he nods, fissures of delight carved around his eyes and mouth. It's appealing, his easy happiness, and Kate finds herself smiling right back at him.
"That sounds great, thanks. Make it an espresso."
"Sure." Her knees crack loudly when she stands up and she winces, takes a moment to arch her back and feel the shiver of tension rushing out of her muscles. Walking away, she feels his eyes mapping the topography of her spine and travelling lower, and she lets her hips sway just a little more than she usually might.
Rick Castle. Who would have thought?
When the announcement comes over the loudspeaker that their flight is finally ready to leave, Rick is almost sorry to hear it. It's three in the morning, and the beautiful stranger he accidentally sat down next to is slumped fast asleep against his shoulder.
The undersides of his thighs burn with the scratch of airport carpeting, brutal even through his slacks, and his body has rapidly descended into something close to what rigor mortis must feel like. Even so, the honeyed warmth of the woman at his side negates all of it.
After she came back with their coffees and settled down on the floor next to him again, he snuck a peek at her cup and gleaned her name. Kate. He caught the way her fingers danced at her hip when the thunder crashed outside, an impulsive reaction, and he didn't miss the flash of the shield in her pocket either.
A cop.
He felt the clutch of childlike excitement at that, a frisson of pleasure that such a fascinating woman had ended up here, waiting for the same flight as him.
In the end, he didn't even have to bring it up. She told him about her work as a homicide detective of her own accord, lamented the fact that she'd probably have to go straight in to work from the airport. He had done his best to make sympathetic noises at the right moments. To not geek out over how totally cool Kate is.
She had fallen asleep slowly, unconsciousness nipping at her heels, and when her cheek had settled against his shoulder his heart turned over in his chest, thrashed like a captive bird against his ribs. It has been so long. Since he's been so taken with a woman, yes, but also. . .since he's wanted to write.
His signing in Washington was a last ditch, desperate attempt on the part of his publicist to save his career. In hindsight, it was monumentally stupid to kill off his main character. He had just gotten so horribly bored, every word that hobbled from his fingertips feeling stale and trite and not at all what he really wanted to say.
This woman, though-
He could write about her. Wants to write about her, desperately.
Rick nudges his bicep underneath her head and she stirs, immediately alert. It must be a cop thing, he supposes. He watches with undisguised fascination as she glances around them, observes the other passengers struggle to their feet.
There's a collective numbness born of sitting on the floor so long, and the throngs of people share sympathetic glances with one another, rotating limbs and rubbing at skin to encourage feeling back. Rick gets to his feet and reaches a hand down, helps Kate to stand too.
Chin dipping, she peers up at him through the forest of her lashes and the corner of her mouth quirks upward. "Sorry about, uh. . .falling asleep on you."
"No problem." He laughs, squeezing her hand before he forces himself to let go. A queue is forming next to the desk at the gate, people threading together like pearls onto a necklace, and Rick follows Kate to take their places among the gaggle of yawning, grouchy passengers.
He and Kate are directed towards different doors by the flight attendant and he snags her elbow, pulls her out of the flow of traffic. Swallowing back his hesitation, he plucks his cell phone free from his pocket and lifts a shoulder sheepishly.
"I've really liked having your company to pass the time tonight. Maybe when we get back to the city we could get a coffee or something? If you're not busy."
A blush erupts at Kate's cheeks and she ducks her head, a curtain of dark hair falling forward to hide her face from him. He waits her out, and then he gets the arc of her mouth into a grin in reward. "That sounds great. Here, I'll give you my number."
Rick passes his phone over and takes hers, adds himself to her contact list. A kiss pressed to her cheek, and then he watches as she joins the flow of people again and disappears around a bend in the tunnel that takes them from the gate to the door of the plane.
A hand lifting to his mouth to tangle in the silvery web of his own smile, Rick moves for the gate, bicep still warm with the sleepy heat of her. Stuffed into his pockets, his fingers wriggle with the clutch of words and he moves for his seat with his body on autopilot, his brain rapt with thoughts of Kate and all the multitudinous things he wants to write about her.
A/N: With gratitude to Alex castlefanfics for helping me condense the list of alternate universes in which these two can stumble into each other. I'm writing these as I go, so we'll see how well I do at keeping up. Stick with me.