Disclaimer: The wording is mine but the characters aren't
This is the chapter Castle writes in my fic, Collaboration (reading it would give you some context).
In Richard Castle style, this is not that explicit so T.
Enjoy.
…
"Heat."
She didn't take her eyes off the board in front of her, her scrawls of information barely visible under the photos and evidence reports. There was a tightness behind her eyes, but she squinted through it.
She still found it hard to believe there was nothing to show from the security at the New York City Library.
Or the prison. There had to be someone somewhere. It had been messy and public; obviously an inside job. Not a guard, an inmate.
But all inmate's financials were as clean as could be expected. All recorded conversations with visitors and outsiders were clean. Their victim didn't even have any one harboring enough animosity to warrant the job being done as a service.
All she had was dead jewel thief, a missing score and a dead paparazzi who had been following the rightful owner of said score. A paparazzi, who according to Rook, had a less than favorable reputation among the press community.
"Nikki."
It had to make sense somehow. While finding the prison murderer was going to be a near miracle, Nikki knew that was the only next step. But she was coming up empty. Why kill someone if not for hate or money?
Unless they wanted to get caught, which considering how careful they had been, was not the case.
Unless, it was for the thrill? She had put enough of them behind bars in the first place to know some were more than capable of doing it out of sheer boredom. Or a play for power.
"Nikki!"
She startled at the voice, demanding her attention. Rook was there, standing just off her shoulder, coat in hand.
"It's time," he told her, holding out her coat, but she didn't move towards him.
"I'm going to stay a little longer. I think I'm on to something," she turned back to the board, getting ready to prepare a list of the criminals who might fit into the category she had reasoned. They'd have to recheck everything, but at least it was a direction.
A hand rested on either of her shoulders and gently pulled her back, off balance and she felt herself fall back against his chest.
"What the hell, Rook?" she exclaimed.
"If I leave you here, I am going to be sleeping alone, and you won't sleep at all. There's nothing more you can do tonight, Nic."
"You're not my keeper, alright."
"No, but I care. You can tell me all about this idea of yours over dinner, or in the tub. Me and the boys will help you run it down tomorrow."
She glared at him for a long minute, but he just held the coat out with a stubborn edge to his face. She sighed and stepped forward, flicking off the lamps on the board, and shutting down her computer.
A relieved sigh came from behind her and she felt her hair being collected and deposited over one shoulder. Her back still to him, she felt the warmth on her neck as he placed a simple kiss there and then helped her slide into her coat.
The weight of it on her shoulders, pulling a little at her back opened the door for a wash of tension, which just left exhaustion in its wake as it dissipated.
She breathed out and reached for his hand. "Take me home, James."
"Funny," he smiled, pulling on her hand to start her forwards.
…
…
"Can't we head back to mine?" she asked, aware of how close she was to sounding petulant rather than just tired. "It's closer." It was late enough that the traffic was manageable rather than stifling. If she got a got run with the lights, there wouldn't be much of a difference in the commute time.
"We haven't been there for days."
"So?" If he didn't have a decent argument, she was going to drive back to her apartment and fall into bed. Her own bed, though she caught herself thinking of it as their bed enough to rival the title.
"So," he answered. "I don't have the energy to go grocery shopping tonight."
She sighed and rolled her head on her neck, feeling rather than hearing the wet crunching of her vertebrae. He would try and bribe her with food.
"Fine." She should eat. Eat, bathe and sleep. She wasn't too concerned if the last two were synonymous.
He took her hand and began massaging the fine muscles absently, looking out the window at the lines of traffic, probably not even aware of his actions. Despite herself, she felt herself relaxing but that just opened the doors to punishment her body was giving her for ignoring it all day. She hurt.
Her feet hurt, her neck hurt, her shoulders were tight and the bruises she had picked up jarred her with every pot hole.
She pulled her hand away and gripped the steering wheel tightly in an attempt to hold it together until she made it through his door.
"Come home with me, Nik. After dinner I'll work on those shoulders for you."
"You don't need to bribe me," she smiled. "I already said I'd come."
"No harm in sweetening the deal."
"Oh, is that so? Well, in that case." She fell back on their banter with relief, keeping her mind awake and functioning until she was in a position to relax.
For the rest of the drive she made no attempts to quiet him. Not content just to listen to him she engaged him, admittedly contradicting everything possible just so that their ensuing debates would keep her awake and distracted from her aching body.
It was with a smile on her face she let out a sigh of relief when they finally pulled into the underground parking of Rook's apartment building.
"Home at last," he sighed unbuckling himself.
"I seem to recall telling you to take me home," she grumbled, following suit. "Instead I was the one who brought you home."
"Awfully kind of you, too."
"Yeah, yeah. Now take me in before I start to regret my kindness."
"As you wish," he swept dramatically into a bow as the elevator doors opened and she absently clipped him on the back of his lowered head when she passed.
…
The gentle brush of lips against hers recalled her from her drowse. She had barely made it through the door when she fell onto the couch and closed her eyes against the headache the lights from the city had antagonized. Somewhere between listening to Rook meddle in the kitchen and consciously relaxing her muscle groups in order she must have nodded off.
"Hey," she blinked. "How long was I out?"
"Only about ten minutes I guess," he supplied, moving off her so she could sit herself up.
She raked a hand through her hair and scrubbed lightly at her skull with her fingertips, trying to massage out the pain.
"I know you're tired, but I ran you a bath." He extended his palms out towards her and with a sigh she took them, letting him pull her lightly to her feet. When she was there, he let them drop and she made her way through his loft for the master bathroom.
When she didn't feel him following her she turned in surprise. "You're not going to join me?"
He moved into her side and dropped a light butterfly kiss against her lips. "You need to relax, Nik."
"I would be relaxed," she breathed, twining her fingers through his hair when he started to pull away. She just wanted to relax, forget her day and Rook always seemed to allow her to do that. Maybe he would tire her out enough that she would just pass out.
"And you need to eat."
"So order something to be delivered in an hour," she suggested coyly, playing on his pride. She knew an hour was a bit of an insult, but she was more than willing to take the punishment he gave out. Who really needed food anyway?
"I'm going to cook now and if you're good, I'll bring you some wine."
She should feel more jilted but she couldn't deny he was only being reasonable. He also never mentioned not joining her when he brought her said wine.
"I'll hold you to that," she sashayed her hips on her way out of view as incentive. She couldn't remember the last time she had even had to use any with him but it felt good, exiting knowing he was watching her.
Leaving the door cracked a little so he wouldn't have to juggle the wine when he came in, she stripped and picked her way across the cold flooring to the generous tub. All fight had gone out of her as soon as she had stepped over the threshold into the room and saw the tendrils of steam rising over the porcelain edge. There were no bubbles. Just a plain, hot bath he must have started running after only a minute or two in the kitchen.
The first thing he had done when he came in was to ensure her a little comfort, and the automatic, absent-mindedness behind the gesture had her blinking rapidly in the sedated lights.
Now, with one foot raised eagerly, every ache grew more insistent the close she got to the water.
How long had she been running on dregs like this?
When was the last time Rook didn't have to ply her with food?
She shouldn't have to rely on Rook feeding her. While she was honest enough to admit she loved him feeding her, she wondered what had happened to the independent police detective who had fed herself before him, or even when he wasn't there.
How had she managed?
She eyed the water with longing but was suddenly reluctant to enter it.
What had happened to that independent detective? Independent woman? She started relying on someone else and in doing so, had forgotten she needed to take care of herself - something she knew she never had done very well. Not compared to the way he took care of her.
But she made herself eat- takeout. She slept- the exhausted sleep of the dead when she finished up a case. And she worked. Too much.
"Just looking at the water isn't going to work, Nik."
The amused, warm voice came from behind her and she flicked her eyes over her shoulder to study the source. He was holding the promised liquid in one hand and his waist boasted an apron while his face sported a question.
To his credit, he kept his eyes focused on hers as he moved slowly to her side and rested the wine glass on the side of the bath.
When she made no move to accept either the glass or the bath, the amused curiosity turned to concern. She was a little disturbed at how familiar it was.
"Nikki?"
She needed to snap out of it.
"You're cooking?" Actually cooking, not just throwing leftovers together.
"Steak,"
"Red Meat." Trying to take care of her again. "When did you buy that?"
"When you went for a run yesterday," he shrugged, still eyeing her with disquiet. "I probably have some chicken somewhere in the freezer though, if you're not in the mood for beef. It can defrost while you soak."
She shook her head violently. "No, steak sounds good," she gave him a small smile. "Really good."
He gave her a smile in return, but it was tentative. He placed a kiss to the side of her head and turned to her leave.
"I meant what I said though, Nik; you have to get in the bath. Let me know when you hop out and I'll start the steak. "
The inherent domesticity in his comment knocked a little of her remaining wind out of her. When did they start being that couple? Offering massages, not to arouse but to soothe sore muscles. Planning their days around each other so he did the shopping while she went for a run. They made supermarket runs together and the nights she spent with him significantly outweighed those she was alone.
But he didn't join her in the tub even when she made it abundantly clear she would have more than appreciated the company.
Where was Jameson Rook, the globe-trotting author who talked himself out of assassinations and got interviews with the 'cream' of society?
Where was the hot, frantic sex every night and usually the next morning?
Well, actually they still had that, even if a lot more of the slow and tender had been creeping into the repertoire in the last six months or so. Six months? More like eighteen. They had been together over two years, god.
Heat lowered herself into the clear water, hissing between her teeth at the encompassing burn and again at the contradictory chill on her spine as she rested back.
When had she stopped caring that he was looking after her? Even maybe counting on it a little? Cooking with him instead of heading out to eat?
If she was honest, she had never been impressed or even desired him as a star reporter. He was a little - a lot – too arrogant, selfish, immature and annoying. But he was fun.
Maybe that's what she was missing.
Usually she had no trouble playing with Jamie. Even movies on the couch were fun with him. He just seemed to be able to draw her out.
But with him working with her and practically living with her she found it hard to shut off the part of her mind which dismantled evidence and scenes and alibis. It was lightening to come home to him after work; something warm and suspiciously like family. It wasn't the same bringing him home with her from work.
Without that lightness, she was beginning to see just how deep they were in this. In them.
She was so long past deep she had no idea where she was anymore. Just how much further was there left to fall?
…
"I'll be out in a few minutes," she called through the door. She heard the TV going and felt a little of the tension go out of her chest. So he wasn't waiting for her, well not just waiting for her. He was working her into his own routine. Maybe she had just over thought the whole thing.
"'Kay," he called.
She pulled on one of his T-shirts and her own pajama pants, aware of the faint clanging in the kitchen. Her stomach grumbled in anticipation making her decision to let her hair dry naturally for her.
Heat pulled on a pair of his socks and shuffled out into the main room, taking a few seconds to watch him at the stove.
"Can you get the water?" he asked without turning. Ninja? She doubted it. Maybe she hadn't been over-thinking after all.
"Yeah, I can do that."
She must have betrayed something in her tone because he turned to give her a quizzical look.
"Is everything ok?"
"Yeah," she drew her fingertips across the tops of his shoulders as she passed on the way to the fridge. "I just have some things on my mind."
"Care to share?"
"It's not to do with the case," she told him though she knew that wouldn't make any difference to him. Growing up with a single mother meant he had somehow managed to avoid most male's aversion to heart to hearts. He had already set the table.
"I don't mind," he swung the skillet over to hover as he plated the steaks.
She watched him, so darn cute in his apron, easily dividing his attention between her and the meal and couldn't help but feel grateful. If he was so determined to give her a nice quiet night at home, she wasn't going to spoil it.
"Maybe I mind," she came to take both plates from him and stretched up to kiss him, hoping her contentment would reach him and offset her words. "I'll tell you about it all later though. If you're good."
…
"Someone's quiet tonight," she observed after they retired to sprawl on the couch.
"Maybe I'm just a little tired. Someone," at this he gave her a nudge. "Kept kicking me last night."
"But I'm sure they more than made up for it this morning."
"Yeah," he sighed. "They decided to wake me up and tire me out even more."
His attempt at humor fell through as she felt a thread of doubt work its way into the conversation. Jamie always had a tendency to laugh things off. What if he really meant it and didn't like that she had woken him this morning? He hadn't joined her in the bath and the bags under his eyes from keeping her company at the precinct this week were deep enough to rival hers.
"Nikki?"
"Yeah?" she forced herself to meet his steady gaze, his puzzlement at her lack of reply clear on his face.
"Am I not asking too quietly?"
"No, you're not asking very loudly," she reassured him. "But I guess I'm just tired too. I can't keep my thoughts straight anymore."
"Oh? And where have they been pulling you?" he moved to sit behind her and began firmly working his thumbs into the back of her neck. She let herself get caught up in the sensation until he hit a particularly bad knot and she hissed.
"Sorry."
She didn't reply and spent a few minutes trying to collect her thoughts while his flexible hands slowly migrated to her shoulders.
What was she supposed to say? So I was just thinking why you didn't join me in the bath? Am I not attractive enough for you anymore or are we just turning into that old non-married couple who have meatloaf on Thursdays and save sex for special occasions?
She hoped it was the latter, because if it was just spice that they needed, she could do spice. That was no problem. But if he wanted space or wanted time, she wasn't sure what she would do with that. The mere fact that she wasn't sure how she would deal with that had her all turned around.
"If you keep that up you actually stand a fair chance of spontaneously-combusting." He used his grip on her shoulders to turn her towards him. "Hey," he gave her a tenuous smile.
This was it. She could ignore this and run or she could put on her big kid boots and fight for them.
"Do I bore you?" the words were expelled despite her better judgment. Don't ask questions you don't want the answer for.
His forehead dissolved into wrinkles and his words were expelled on a disbelieving huff of air. "Are you serious?"
Him being torn between shock and amusement, that was a good thing, right?
"Is that a no?"
For a long moment he looked a bit bemused, his mouth seemingly incapable of closing when he registered the seriousness in her face. The longer he looked at her the more his amusement faded.
"Nikki, wha? Of course it's a no. How could you bore me?" He looked a little horrified. "Have I been acting that way?"
His panic both calmed and unsettled her. While she had been uncertain about facing this and working things out with him, he was eager. Why was this so easy for him?
She forced herself to shake her head. "I told you," she patted his cheek. "Even I can't make sense of what's going on in my head tonight."
"So, it's just tonight?"
"Yeah. I guess you were right about needing to take a break."
"What made you think of it in the first place?"
She just blushed a little and got to her feet. "Nothing."
He reached out and snatched her hand and pulled her so she toppled and caught herself with both hands on the back of the sofa, one on either side of his shoulders. He used both hands to lift her legs and bring her to straddle his hips. With them literally rubbing noses she had nowhere to safely rest her eyes.
"Nikki," his thumbs were running circles on the small of her back. "Do I bore you?"
Wow. She had not been expecting that. From the sober look in his eyes, this wasn't going to be one of those moments when he used rhetorical questions to show her how much he understood. He was completely sincere.
She blinked while she scrambled to formulate a reply. It shouldn't have taken as long it was currently considering she had been thinking about it in the bath. Hadn't she thought how she didn't really mind that she rarely saw the celebrity journalist anymore? That she liked Rook, just plain old Jamie Rook?
And while his domestic side tonight may have caught her off guard, did she actually mind it? Was it boring?
It seemed her answer didn't come fast enough and Rook took her silence as a confirmation. He slid his hands to her knees, pecked her lips and moved to shift her off him.
"You're tired. I get it," he swallowed. "Maybe you should just head on back to your place, you know, get a good night's sleep in your own bed. But call me if you want me to come in tomorrow."
He was kicking her out? What the hell?
She clamped her legs fiercely around him and refused to budge.
"Oh no you don't. You don't spring something like that on me and make up your mind before I get to answer. And for the record, you don't," she looked at him as steadily as she could. "Bore me," she added.
He looked like he didn't believe her, or that he wanted to but couldn't.
"Now explain please," she demanded.
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he countered.
She sighed and spent a moment just sitting and absorbing his warmth and basking in his patience.
She loved him. And it didn't look like that was going to change anytime soon, whether they started acting like and old married couple or not.
"You ran me a bath," she admitted quietly. "No bubbles, no candles, just a hot bath after a long day."
He looked at her in incomprehension. "And?"
"And you didn't join me even when I told you to."
"Hey," he protested. "It's not that I didn't want to. It was a long day and you looked tired. I was tired."
"You went out and bought red meat while I went for a run and cooked it while I had a bath even though I said we could just have gotten takeout."
"I like to cook for you. For us."
"And maybe," she directed the next words into his chest. "For the first time I found myself thinking about an 'us'. As in a long term, you have a home cooked meal and take care of me when I get home from work everyday to our place, 'us'."
His chest rose sharply towards her as he sucked in a breath.
"And maybe that was a bit of a shock so I jumped to conclusions," she snorted. "Like you were only being so nice and domestic and denying hot, bath tub sex because you weren't interested anymore."
He chuckled a little over her head, the sound raw with relief.
"I promise, physical health permitting, I will never decline hot, bath tub sex again. That goes for the shower too."
"So romantic," she scoffed, a lightness burgeoning her. They could do this. "You're the first one I've ever tried real with" she admitted. "The routines, the talks. It's nice. And it's a little scary."
"As soon as I start, that's usually when they start heading for the hills," he confessed. "No one's really been interested in just me."
"I like it," she offered. "We'll just have to ease our way into the whole domestic thing."
"We have been easing into it. I've been feeding you for years."
"For which my stomach is eternally grateful."
Or at least it will be until you get me pregnant, she thought wryly. Then it's going to hate you.
The natural banter playing out in her head was nothing knew, but she almost choked on when she realised exactly what she had even thought about saying. What the hell was wrong with her?
"So all I had to do to avoid this was to have a bath with you?"
"Yes," she nodded, gratefully grasping at his attempts to lighten the conversation. "This is all your fault."
"I think there's a fault in your reasoning, Detective Heat."
"Oh? Pray tell."
"Well, if I had joined you in this bath, what's to say that you wouldn't have been thinking about all these things anyway? I have confidence that my superior snuggling skills may have been so good as to alert you to my nefarious plan," he failed miserably to leer and look evil at the same time. "Which was in fact: to never let you go again."
"So you would have only resorted to cuddling in the bath as a last resort in your plan? It wouldn't have gone any further at all?"
"Only if my cooking and massage skills were to fail," he nodded somberly.
"Come on now Jamie," she purred into his neck. "You already admitted that there would have been snuggling involved."
He smirked at her and she felt a revival of the lightness she always felt when she played with him.
"So would there have been some kisses?" she ventured.
He tilted his head to one side in thought. "I confess there may have been a few."
"And you still hold to your story that they wouldn't have distracted me significantly from your clinginess?"
"Clinginess?" he repeated with a smile.
"Play thesaurus in your own time. Now these kisses," she pushed herself closer to him "Where would they be?"
A deep hum vibrated through him and into her as he pursed his lips and scrunched his eyes in playful contemplation. After milking it for a good ten seconds he shifted from under her to face lengthwise down the couch.
"Recreating the crime scene?" she quirked an eyebrow at him.
He wiggled his eyebrows and drew her into the vee of his legs and to rest against his chest. "Now this is all theoretical you understand," he murmured his disclaimer in her ear.
"Absolutely," she agreed.
"Well so long as you understand," he ghosted his lips down the back of her neck and she felt herself erupt in goose bumps. "I'm rather partial to your neck," the words were hot against her skin and she leaned back, desperate for the feel of his mouth. "So I might have kissed you here."
She closed her eyes and waited but he only nudged one of the sensitive spots on her neck with his nose.
He drifted lower, trailing to the side behind her jugular and just below her ear. "Or here."
"Rook," she almost growled.
"I would have definitely put one here," he breathed against her temple.
"When recreating a crime scene, you have to be more authentic, Rook," she chided him.
"Potential crime scene," he returned refusing to be outdone, but seemingly unable to stop himself from retracing his steps and drinking in the salty taste of her. The wet heat of his tongue flirted with the skin and his breaths on the same skin had her clenching her fingers in the material of his jeans before she let go.
This was them. This is what he did to her: drive her a little crazy. And she wouldn't have it any other way.
A few minutes later she spoke again, not caring that she sounded a little breathless. "And that's as far as you would go?"
"We were tired."
"So there wouldn't have been any touching?"
"No more than now," he lied.
"No caresses?"
"No."
"Well that's where you are wrong, Mr. Rook," she turned to give him a dark look. "Because there would have definitely been some caresses. Just maybe not from you."
She drew her fingers lazily over the knee beside her, scratching lightly when she knew it would be felt through the denim. It jerked from under her once as his reflexes literally kicked in and she permitted herself a dark chuckle.
"Detective Heat," his voice was very low. "I find myself drawing some interesting conclusions from this little experiment of ours."
"Oh?" she turned to face him, bringing their chests together. "And would you care to share your findings?" She stole his mouth, plundering it gently and catching the words he started to murmur on her tongue.
When he pulled away he took a moment to steady himself and she took advantage of the same space to slide her fingers under his shirt tails and play with the skin just above his belt.
"After lengthy," he kissed along her collarbone. "And deep consideration," he pulled her hips down a little firmer against his, ignoring her uncontrolled catch of breath. "I conclude that there are too many unforeseen variables in this experiment to lend it any validity."
Her mind hadn't gone fuzzy enough to miss he was talking about her blatant overtures.
"Yes," she managed. "Well you have always been very…considerate."
"Thank you."
"But for all further experiments and renditions of crime scenes, I think you should count on those variables as being steady," she let her hand rest against his face, letting herself instigate the tenderness for a change. "I don't think they'll be going anywhere."
"I'm happy to investigate and research your theory for as long as you want," he caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. Simple. Everything was that simple.
"It's not a theory," she told him seriously sliding away from him and holding out a hand which he took despite needing no help. She kissed the triangle of skin exposed at the neck of his shirt. "It just is."
I would really appreciate some reviews.
I am still thinking about the Nikki/ Rook scene Kate writes but would really appreciate any ideas for that one; everything seems a little clichéd to me at the moment.