i know i should be working on the next chapter of Never Let Me Go but this just happened. i'm sorry, Katy. looks like i am the padawan afterall.
AU meeting - Beckett is working as a waitress trying to make ends meet. One day Castle comes in with a date and is seated in her section. Date goes spectacularly wrong and Beckett tries to make him feel better (and they hit it off). Author can invert the scenario if desired (i.e. Castle as a waiter and Beckett on the date).
''I'm not cleaning that damn ketchup stain on table 7, alright? The monsters there murdered a tomato family. It looks like a crime scene. Somebody better take care of it,'' he fumed.
Why did he ever agree upon taking the morning shift, he wondered, as he wiped down the red checkered tablecloth off of the leftovers of its previous sitters, who went to town on their food, from the looks of it.
Rick was not a morning person, never had been. But Marcia's son's vaccination shots were more important than his beauty sleep, so he generously offered to cover for the young girl at the diner.
What he didn't count in, was his grumpiness. It was barely past nine and he'd already yelled at the teenager who worked the cappuccino machine, almost broken the expensive china, and gotten the stink eye from a manhattanite hotshot, who just couldn't pick her damn order.
His eyes landed on the door, as it chimed. The man entering, in a faded pair of jeans and a grey jacket, looked gruff- in his 40s, maybe even 50s, Rick had never been good at guessing ages. But the woman who followed him, he knew for sure was young. And gorgeous. He settled for early 20s. The dark blue NYPD uniform seemed to swallow her thin, lithe frame. It contrasted with her pale skin, making her look tough and tender at the same time; the juxtaposition giving her an aura of mystery. His eyes were locked on her as she made her way to the table with the oldie in front of her.
He averted his gaze and went back to resetting tables.
His patience lasted not more than five minutes and he sought her out again. She was sat in front of the man, in the corner table near the glass walls. She looked... nervous?
Wait, was this guy her date? No way. He was way too old and too grey and needlessly tough and too douchey-looking for her; basically- just wrong, for her.
She should be with someone gentler, he surmised, from behind the counter he was semi-stalking her from. Someone more rugged. Ruggedly handsome. Like him, for instance.
Okay Rick, creepy just reached to a whole new level.
He growled at Marco who was going over to their table for their order and pulled him back by grabbing his shirt.
''You go set tables 9 and 11, I'll take care of this.''
He made his way to their table, the couple barely noticing him through their terse conversation.
''Would you just listen to me? Royce, hey- c'mon, I'm talking to you, the least you could do is respond, '' the uniformed woman bit through clenched teeth.
Oldie ran his hands over his face, and was about to respond when his eyes fell him. ''May I help you?'' he directed towards Rick.
''Hey, you kinda stole my line,'' he replied good-naturedly. ''Is everything okay here?''
The woman sighed exasperatedly and resigned to look out at the street as soon as the man –Royce? He was assuming; what kind of name was that, anyways? – addressed him.
''Yeah, no, everything's fine. Just peachy.''
She did a double take when she saw him, standing with his pad and pen ready, blue eyes shining with curiosity, cleared her throat but didn't say anything.
He waited a few more seconds before breaking the silence.
''Can I get you guys anything? Or will it just be one uncomfortable silence, with a side dressing of awkwaaard?'' he ended at a high pitched, jazz-handed movement.
The man's eyes widened but she just bit her lip. Adorable.
''Shit- I mean, shoot, I should not have said that, that was inappropriate.''
She shook her head and waved him off. ''No, it's okay. It's kind of funny, because it's true,'' she threw at her partner who heaved a sigh. ''I'll just have a coffee, thanks. Grande skim latte, two pumps sugar free vanilla.''
''Just a water for me,'' Royce supplied.
''Got it. I'll be back in a few. Till then relish the new and improved décor of Mulligan's Diner giving it a rustic, authentic look courtesy of the Lohr's Laser Crafted Custom Furniture and their new in-décor business enterprise Knotty Bits: wood is in,'' he ended the speech with his customary wink.
''Sorry. Company policy.''
The startled looks on their faces were worth it.
He gave the coffee order to Kimmy, waited for a couple of minutes and went on to clean the tables next to her seat. It wasn't his fault if the immediate ketchup situation he needed to tend to right away happened to be just behind her. Who else would clean it up?
'' – Jesus Christ, I'm not asking for much here. You were all for this a couple days ago. Let's just give it a chance, alright? Us a chance, Royce,'' the woman ended quietly, a soft, vulnerable, hopeful, note to her voice.
''It's not gonna work, Kate,'' the man released in a monotone, as if this was a set dialogue between them.
Kate. Hmm. Perfect. He totally knew she was a Kate. (He had no idea.) He'd totally called it. (No, he hadn't.)
''God, I'm laying my heart out on the line here, you know how hard for me that is-''
''Listen!'' Royce raised his voice, and Rick's spine straightened at the edge of it. ''You're a good kid, but that's it. You'll make a great detective. We had fun, but I'm not- I'm not looking for a relationship, Kate. I'm- I'm retiring.''
''You're what?'' Kate, whose face he couldn't see, stuttered.
''Yeah. I gave in the application a few weeks ago, got the call last Saturday. I'm officially leaving the Academy.''
''Last Saturday?'' Kate's voice shook but she continued, ''you've been sitting on this for almost a week? Shit, you knew? I was with you, in your bed and you didn't tell me?! How could you do that to me, Royce? Does our partnership, our friendship, our fucking non-existent relationship mean nothing to you?!'' she spat out.
Royce dropped his head in his hands, shoulders sagging. ''Don't do that, kid.''
Rick strained his ears to listen to her voice, trying not to look too obvious but failing miserably. It was a good thing her back was to him, she would've made him in seconds, otherwise.
''Shit,'' she muttered mostly to herself, rubbing her hand over her face, pushing her fingers into her eye socket. ''You, know, out of all the people I know, you were the last person who I thought would ever hurt me. Join the club, I guess. They meet on Sundays and have their own tee-shirts,'' she grunted at her own attempt at humour.
Royce abruptly stood up, exhaled, closed his eyes and steeled himself. ''I can't talk to you when you are being so emotional, kid. Call me once you've cooled down.''
And with that, he left. Over the ding of the bell, and the swish off the door, Rick heard the tiniest whispers from the woman who sat with her head pillowed in her arms on the table. A quite, tearful but firm whisper.
''Yeah, well. Fuck you, too.''
She smelled coffee.
Yes. Warm coffee was all she needed. It would solve all her problems.
It would make Royce not leave, it would help her become a detective, catch her mother's murderers, it would drag her father from the clutches of the bottle and it would make her mom come back.
Or it could burn its way down her throat and make her feel something other than the numbness inside of her.
Good enough.
She managed a smile at the blue-eyed waiter in front of her who stood there till she took the first sip, looking like an eager puppy dog.
''So, how is it?''
''Hmm, heaven,'' she semi-moaned; looking amused as his throat bobbed up and down.
''Thanks.''
''Why are you saying thanks? You didn't make it.''
He gasped, looking affronted. ''What makes you say that?''
''Because you were too busy eavesdropping in to my conversation,'' she challenged him with a raised eyebrow.
He had the decency to look sheepish, and he scrunched up his face and said, ''eek, sorry, you saw that?''
''You're as subtle as a baby elephant, –''
'' –Rick,'' he supplied as her eyes searched for a name tag.
''Rick. Yes, you would make a terrible spy. The walls are glass, man.''
''Well, in my defence, you guys weren't really being that quiet.''
She visibly paled at that and looked around the diner, relaxing a little as she saw no one else around other than the staff.
''Bad break-up?'' he asked, because damnit, he wanted to know. About her, that guy, her life, the reason for that resigned, hurt look in her eyes like she was used to disappointment. He wanted to know everything about her.
Then he wanted to hug her and make it all go away.
She shrugged her shoulders and looked away. ''It needs to actually be a thing to be broken up, you know? Oh, it's nothing.''
''I'm sorry,'' he offered. Because he truly was. The woman sitting in front of him did not deserve the show Mr. Royce had put up. She deserved to be cuddled and comforted. She deserved someone who could take that sad, desolate look away from her eyes.
She smiled at that, looked around and then at him. ''You're not busy. C'mon, Rick. Sit.'' She patted the place in front.
''Um, actually, I have something to do. Wait, I'll be back in a few.'' He said walking back towards the kitchen.
His chest clenched when he saw her, a near stranger, deflate and wave him off. ''No, no, it's okay. You go ahead; you must have work to do. Speaking of, I should be getting back to mine.''
How used to people leaving was she, that she could brush it off so easily? He wasn't looking forward to the answer.
''Just wait, okay?'' he assured. She shook her head and let out a tiny smile, just for his sake.
He went into the kitchen staff fridge, and bent down to his own collection. There. That should help.
He assembled his items and then zipped back to the tables. She was done with her coffee; the bill sitting on her table.
He placed the things in front of her but she seemed too busy looking out at the streets to notice. He cleared his throat.
''Kate, right? Here. Have this. On the house.''
She startled at his voice and noticed the assortment if items in front of her. The centrepiece was a neatly cut piece of a coffee cake, next to it a bowl of whipped cream which had tiny cherries on top of it as its eyes and mouth, which looked like a kiss.
She had a bewildered expression on her face. It fell somewhere between scrutiny and awe.
''Is this pity food?''
''No.''
''Yesterday's leftovers?''
''Ew, no.''
She squinted her eyes and tilted her face. ''Why are you doing this?''
He looked at her incredulously, and said, ''because I'm a nice person and you're somewhat okayish and you seem to be having a bad time and c'mon, its Drekka's coffee cake!''
''What's so special about Drekka's coffee cake?''
''Drekka is a goddess. She owns the place but she doesn't make stuff, but man, oh man, when she does, it's sinful. She made a special batch for us measly worker bees and I saved mine to savour later. But you need it more.''
She stared right into his eyes, and he noticed hers for the very first time. There was so much swirling in those green orbs, specks of golden floating amidst.
''Thank you,'' she said quietly, the genuine reverence in her voice making his heart stutter.
He shrugged and thumped down into the seat in front of her. He really was free.
''So. You're a cop.''
''Rookie. Not as much fun, but I'm getting there.''
She bit into the coffee cake and the sound she emitted should've been illegal for a public place.
''So. You're a waiter.''
''Temporarily. Just doing it to pay the bills. I'm actually a writer.''
''I'm guessing the last one wasn't a big seller,'' she said, her eyes gleaming with mirth; for the first time actually, since she'd entered the place.
''If you must know, I've written two books and as I'm the only one who's ever read them, I can assure you, they've been very well received.''
''Sure,'' she smirked.
Kate popped a cherry in her mouth, and he really had to avert his eyes. How could someone go from despondent and lonely to hot and seductive so quickly?
''So you wanna talk about it?''
''About what?''
''Whatever just happened, between you and Captain Serious?''
She hummed, her voice barely more than a murmur. ''Maybe later.''
''Whatever you want. Maybe we can discuss it over some coffee cake, some other time?''
She raised a lone eyebrow and with upturned lips asked, ''I thought Drekka didn't make coffee cake that often.''
''I have a few tricks up my sleeve. I'm her favourite. And anyways, Officer,'' he leaned closer to her over the table and lowered his voice so that it came down a full octave, and whispered, ''I can be very persuasive.''
With that he took the cheery that formed the kiss on the whipped cream, popped it into his mouth, stood up and walked back over to the counter.
She slumped back into her seat as soon as he was out of sight.
What the hell had just happened?
Two things she knew for a fact: Royce had disappeared from her mind completely for a minute, there.
And coffee hadn't made her blood thrum as much as his proximity had just done.
Her life had been upturned by the inhumanity of men one too many times. The sons of bitches who murdered her mom, her spineless father and now Royce. She was so sick and tired of letting their acts dictate her life.
No more.
She'd give herself a week. That's it. A week. She'd cry and weep and bawl over another relationship ruined, another loss and then she'll pack it all up and stuff it in a box. She'll stand up, dust herself of and – and have some coffee cake.
When he tore the other half of the bill to hang it over the nail, he noticed the scrawly handwriting with which she'd scribbled down her number.
Give me a week. Then call me when you've got the coffee cake ready.
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