Ooh, Bacon, or Missing Scene from "Boom!" (2 x 17)
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters.
Author's Note: I just wondered if Castle would have checked on Beckett one last time before bed.
Castle wrapped his knuckles on the open door of the guest bedroom. Beckett glanced up from examining a stack of novels on the nightstand next to the bed. "Pretty impressive restraint, not having any of your own books here for your guests to peruse," she said.
Castle spread his hands wide and shrugged. "They kept disappearing when guests left. It's more economical to stock the nightstand with Connelly and Patterson."
Beckett gave a small nod and a smile, then moved around the bed to sit on the edge,her body facing Castle. "I just wanted to see if you needed anything before you went to bed," he said.
"Actually, I did want to ask you for something, Castle," she said. Keeping her gaze about a foot to the right of him, Beckett ended up looking at the door, rather than his face.
He crossed through the doorway and to the bed in three long, fast steps, resisting the urge to take her two small hands into his two large ones. Instead, he tentatively sat next to Beckett on the bed and said, "Name it."
In the silence of the bedroom, the sounds made by Beckett's stalling actions seemed magnified. The drumming of her fingers on the comforter echoed through the room, and when she cleared her throat, Castle almost leaped off the bed. She finally turned her head to meet his eyes, opened her mouth, and then dropped her gaze again. Her hair was damp from her long shower-an attempt to wash away the stench of smoke and the remnants of soot and debris from her body. Castle had been with Beckett late into the night on cases before; he thought he'd seen her tired, wrung out. Now, however, he realized that on those nights, when they were tracking down leads or attempting to flesh out a timeline, her demeanor was different. When working, even at the of a sixteen-hour day, beneath the puffy eyes and rumpled button-up shirt, Beckett's body thrummed with hard energy. On the clock, even at the end of her rope, Kate Beckett had an unmistakable intensity to her. Tonight she appeared to have no energy whatsoever. Her hunched posture made her appear 3 inches shorter, at least.
As Beckett persisted in her pause, Castle was left perched awkwardly next to her on the bed. Under normal circumstances (and their "normal" could cover quite a wide range of events), he was the first to break a silence, whether that break was welcome or not. Considering all that Beckett had lost, though, Castle felt so out of his league that he held his tongue for the moment.
Finally, Beckett turned to him again, and she seemed to have found her voice. "Castle," she started, "I can't thank you enough for taking me in like this tonight." He attempted to to interrupt her, to protest that it was nothing, but she held up her hand a pushed on, "And I know I have no place asking for one more thing from you, but will you please stay with me tonight?" She nodded her head toward the window. "The Captain's got guys out there tonight on Jordan's orders, and I know we're about as safe as anyone in the city, and I'm not trying to...I just don't be alone." Holding his gaze, she somehow seemed to be resisting blushing by sheer force of will.
Castle swallowed, blinked, and said, "Of course. You ready for bed now?" Beckett pulled back the sheet and comforter. He shed his flannel pyjama bottoms, leaving him in his t-shirt and blue boxers, and Beckett pulled off the borrowed sweatpants she'd been wearing. They climbed into the bed. Castle settled himself gingerly onto his back, unsure how much space Beckett wanted in his queen size guest room bed. She surprised him by snuggling immediately into his side, laying her head on his chest, and flinging her right arm across his body. She shifted around and let out a sound that was a cross between a snort and a yawn. Castle felt strangely like a giant teddy bear until Beckett tucked her right knee between his legs; he figured any mistaking him for a stuffed animal would be dispelled at that point.
Fighting the almost overwhelming urge to crush Beckett into his chest so hard she'd protest, Castle instead wrapped his arms gently around her slender frame. "Good night, Beckett."
In a sleepy tone, she replied, "Night, Castle. Thank you."
He squeezed Beckett's shoulder and said, "Any time." As he held her, he could feel some of the tension draining from her muscles. When she began to breathe deeply and then snore lightly, Castle allowed himself, too, to drift off to sleep.
As the sun streamed in through the window, Castle awoke disoriented. Why was he sleeping in the guest room of his own loft? Then he remembered checking on Beckett the night before, and how the night had progressed from there. He reached his right arm out only to feel the cold sheet next to him. Had she disobeyed orders and gone into the precinct? Wearing what? Hadn't she been wearing the last of clean clothes last night?
He smiled ruefully as he realized he was disappointed that he couldn't keep his partner trapped at his place, even when she was homeless and without worldly possessions. "That's pretty sick, Rick," he told himself.
Maybe she'd called Lanie or another friend this morning and asked her to swing by the loft with a change of clothes? Maybe she'd borrowed something of Martha's (horrors!) just long enough to run into a clothing store? Maybe...maybe he smelled coffee brewing. Ooh, and bacon? Maybe Beckett hadn't gone anywhere just yet.