A/N: My first story with zero dialogue – very difficult for someone who's a talker like me.
Disclaimer: The usual.
Really! He Had No Idea
Richard Castle had learned a lot about Kate Beckett in four years, and he'd fallen madly, deeply and hopelessly in love with her. Now that he's allowed to love her; openly, freely and completely he is discovering that she was right… there are so many layers to the Beckett onion, and now she's letting him peel them away.
She was absolutely right all those years ago; he really had no idea…
No idea that she not only cooks, but she is practically a walking cook book; capable of the most complex of dishes, a veritable United Nations of recipes swimming in that beautiful head of hers. And now she loves to cook for him.
No idea that she really does read and drink wine in the bath; a naked, wet and sudsy Kate Beckett, with one of his books in one hand, a glass of Merlot in the other, surrounded by a cloud of vanilla-scented steam and the soft yellow glow of flickering candlelight is truly a sight to behold and one that very nearly left him pulseless the first time he saw her.
No idea that she doesn't really have a tattoo or a navel ring... she's such a tease; but he already knew that.
No idea that she paints her toenails, but only in deep red or bright purple - never pale pink or coral or insipid pearly hues. She even let him paint them for her once; in bed. For future reference... Kate Beckett wearing blue lace panties and one of his shirts, a bottle of nail polish in a colour called 'Scandalous Red' and outrageously expensive white cotton sheets is a recipe for disaster. By the time they were done, eight of her toenails remained unpainted, they were naked, sweaty and exhausted, the bottle of blood-red polish was lost somewhere in the bed and subsequently, his sheets looked like they belonged at a crime scene.
No idea that she adores his daughter and probably his mother too. He strongly suspects the feeling is mutual.
No idea that she's unbelievably ticklish. This particular discovery was made on their very first night together. As he worshipped and mapped every dip and curve of her body he memorised her reactions to his touch; the soft gasps, subtle arches, low moans, whispered pleas, along with the loud cries, frantic clutching, desperate rocking and most surprisingly the squealing, high pitched laughing. He loves to elicit every one of those reactions from her as often as possible, but it's the laughter in all its giggling infectious glory that always makes him smile.
No idea that she sings like a bird. He knew she could carry a tune, had heard her sing briefly several times, but the first time he heard her really singing she was getting ready for a date with him, putting her makeup on and softly singing along to Sarah McLachlan's 'Angel' and it took his breath away.
No idea that she swears... frequently. Sure, he's heard her curse at work many times; she is a homicide detective after all. But the barrage of expletives she let loose one afternoon after dropping a can of coffee on her foot took him completely by surprise. She'll swear when she's injured, angry, confused or frustrated, and the F-Bomb is a particular favourite. But he was more than a little stunned and not ashamed to admit, completely turned on, the first time she swore in the bedroom. Again she seems to favour the F-Bomb; it's often prefacing his name or a protracted 'Yessss', and she is also not above a little blasphemy.
No idea that she's a spelling, grammar and punctuation tyrant and not even a best-selling author is off her radar. He teases her that he'll get her a job as an editor at Black Pawn... not.
No idea that the box of 'toys' she alluded to, teased him with... is real, and he didn't even have to snoop to get access to it. What surprised him the most was that many of the 'items' were still in their packaging... gifts from the owner of an Adult Store after the team solved his business partner's murder. Apparently they were all given a box of 'gifts'. How did he not know this? The fact that he got to open Kate's with her... wow.
No idea that she really can drink him under the table. For an, albeit reformed, party-hard playboy, it is an embarrassingly shameful fact... Richard Castle was 'out-drunk', by a girl. Oh the fun Ryan and Espo have had with that.
No idea that she is scarily flexible. He knew she loved yoga, but the reality of its physical benefits have almost blown his mind. He has seen her practice postures at home, by his pool in the Hamptons and she really wants him to do a class with her. His reluctance is only partly fear of excruciating physical pain; his other reservation is that loose clothing will not sufficiently contain the physical reaction he is prone to having at just a glimpse of Kate Beckett in Adho Mukha Shvanasana or Supta Baddha Konasana.
No idea that being in love with her would be such a wonderful roller coaster… scary, amazing, heart-breaking, breathtaking, remarkable, maddening, challenging, frustrating, joyous, extraordinary. But being loved by her is all those things and more. It's overwhelming, intoxicating, terrifying, comforting, exhilarating; because she loves fiercely, deeply and completely and it's everything.
No idea that she's scared of bees. She'll take on a 250 lb. man brandishing a weapon, hold a snake, let a gigantic hairy spider crawl up her arm, pick a live rat off his shoulder with her bare hands, but a single bee invading her personal space sends her into a frenzy of swatting and squealing that he is never going to let her live down.
No idea that she's a snuggler. Yes, having Kate Beckett wrapped around him was a long-held fantasy, and in every one of those fantasies they are naked, or at the very least, well on their way to nakedness. But Kate wrapped around him wearing one of his shirts, a pair of his pyjama pants or swamped by his robe is almost better than any of those fantasies. It doesn't matter where they are; the couch, the bed, his desk chair, she'll snuggle with him anywhere, any chance she gets, and he loves it.
No idea that she likes jewellery. Her lack of adornment by precious metals and stones is apparently about the potential hazards of her job and has nothing to do with an aversion to all things shiny or sparkly. As well as her mother's ring and her father's watch, she has a varied and eclectic assortment of jewellery; a collection he fully intends to add to ASAP, probably starting this Christmas. There is one particular piece of 'bling' he can't wait to buy her, already has a design in his head, but he'll keep that to himself... for now.
No idea that she keeps a journal; a soft leather-bound notebook she leaves on her bedside table, pen clipped to the front and what he assumes are small keepsakes protruding untidily from within its pages. She writes in it most nights and while he would dearly love to know what's in it, the fact that she trusts him enough to leave it out in the open means he'll never, ever look without her permission. Little does he know she plans to read parts of it to him one day soon.
Absolutely no idea that she is loving every minute of peeling away the layers of the Richard Castle onion; because even though he rarely keeps a thought, an idea or an opinion to himself, even though he has lived a large portion of his adult life on Page Six and even though she has known him for four years, he has turned out to be more of a mystery than she ever imagined. The Richard Castle she gets to see, especially now, is a wonderful contradiction, an unlikely mix of ego and humility, immaturity and depth, silliness and seriousness; and she told him all this the first time she said 'I love you'.
Love to know what you think. Please!
Adho Mukha Shvanasana is Downward Facing Dog in Sanskrit. The other pose I mentioned… Google it.
Namaste