Waiting to be Written
A Pre-Series AU
The new year stands before us, like a chapter in a book, waiting to be written.
~ Melody Beattie
Kate Beckett does not want to be here. Letting Lanie talk her into this entire thing had been a mistake; she doesn't care how much she "needs to get out," spending her night off in a loud, packed club is not her idea of a good time.
Especially given that she hasn't seen her friend in nearly an hour, since the moment the ME had spotted an attractive former flame. It's probably just as well, though, since she's not really in the mood to do more than sit at the table Lanie had somehow managed to snag, nurse her drink, and fend off leering idiots and their awful lines.
Beckett rolls her eyes at the latest pick-up attempt, this one complete with finger guns when she'd told him to get lost. They're not even trying anymore. What did that guy expect? That she'd jump up and get on it at first wink? Yeah, no.
Knocking the rest of her drink back, she considers her options. She could flag their server down and get another drink, or she could find Lanie and wish her goodnight early. The latter sounds preferable, except for the hell her friend will give her at work later for bailing with just an hour and a half left until the new year. So, another drink it is.
"You look miserable, Beckett," Lanie says, flopping back into the booth as she makes her decision. "Do you really not want to be here?"
"No, no, I'm fine. I'm good. Just about to order another drink," she insists, straining to be heard over the thump of the music.
Lanie shakes her head, reaching for the half-empty water she had abandoned a while ago. "Girl, you don't have to stay; you look like you'd rather be at a crime scene than here."
Beckett shakes her head. "No, no. I'm good, Lanie, I promise. So what happened with the guy?" She looks around, trying to spot the tall, dark, and handsome fellow who'd captured her friend's attention so easily.
Lanie huffs. "We danced for forty minutes before he told me he was here with somebody else." Her eyes roll. "So I told him to go back to her because he certainly wasn't going to be grinding on me anymore."
"Good for you," Beckett murmurs, tapping both her glass and Lanie's when she's able to get their waitress's eye. "Have another drink, I'll tell you about the fine specimens I've been meeting."
Her friend eyes her but sits up straighter.
"One guy asked if I wanted to be his New Year's kiss before he asked my name. Apparently, he keeps his lips soft by exfoliating them with sandpaper. Nightly."
Lanie groans. "Oh god."
"Oh, and another made sure I knew he had plenty of spit to swap with me because he licks stamps competitively. I didn't know there were stamp-licking competitions, but we all learn something new sometimes."
"Oh, gross." Her friend makes a face. "That's disgusting. And we both know what I do for a living, so that says something."
"Uh huh." She shakes her head. "In retrospect, the finger guns the last one gave me really weren't so bad."
Lanie whistles. "Yikes. No wonder you looked like you'd swallowed a bug when I first walked up."
That gets a laugh out of her. "Yeah. It's ah, it's been interesting."
Lanie takes her wine, thanking their waitress with a smile. Beckett thanks her, too, thumbing the rim of her vodka soda, savoring the first sip.
"Look, honey," Lanie starts after they've sipped in silence for a minute or two, "if you don't want to stay, you really don't have to. I know you've been working like crazy and this isn't your idea of a good time."
Kate shakes her head. "No, I'm okay. I'll perk up after this drink, I'm sure."
Lanie laughs. "I'm sure we both will," she says, clinking her glass against Kate's. "To fending off the weirdo contingent."
"I'll drink to that."
She does feel a bit better after the second drink. Not intoxicated, just relaxed enough to not hate being there, and she lets Lanie coax her onto the dance floor. She doesn't let herself think too hard about crooking her finger at some tall guy with a shock of blond hair, either, she just dances.
He's not a bad partner. He keeps a good beat, doesn't seem to develop octopus arms to keep her pressed against him, and until he tries to shove his tongue into her mouth as she lifts her head to ask if he wants to get a drink, she's actually having fun.
"I'm going to get some air," she calls to Lanie after she's moved away – far away – from her former dance partner. Tentacle tongue has thankfully decided to slink off somewhere else, making her escape easier; at least she doesn't have to worry about him following her.
After a quick stop into the bathroom, she takes the chance that the roof deck won't be a complete madhouse and heads up the stairs instead of going out into the alley that makes up the front of the club. The heavy bass of the music fades away as she steps outside, slipping past a trio of shivering women with lit cigarettes between their fingers.
The first shock of wind hits her as she moves away from the door, ripping a curse from her lips. Damn it, she should have grabbed her sweater.
"Are you cold?"
Beckett jumps, spinning to face the source of the question, ready to tell whoever it is to back off. But instead of Adrian, Steve, or any of the other idiots she's been fending off, she comes face to face with someone new. Someone she recognizes, less from the one time they met across a table and more from the fact that she'd cast a long look at his picture on the back of a novel as she'd left her apartment earlier that night.
"Um, what?" she asks, not inelegantly.
His lips quirk, but he repeats himself. "Are you cold? Because you look like you're freezing actually."
"I-no, no I'm fine. Thanks. I just came outside to get some air."
"Me too," he says, looking around. Kate allows herself a second to study him, taking in his expensive sport jacket, his floppy hair and rugged, devil may care five o'clock shadow. He looks good – very good. "Can I interest you in a drink? It might help warm you up – not that you're cold," he amends, grinning at her rolled eyes.
She purses her lips, looking him over again. When on earth will she have the chance for him to buy her a drink again? "Oh, what the hell. One drink."
He nods, gesturing for her to lead the way to the outdoor bar, where she steps all-too-gratefully under the patio heater the club has set up.
"I'm Rick, by the way," he adds once they've given their orders.
Beckett smothers a knowing smile, holding out her hand. "Kate," she says.
His fingers close around hers and it's all she can do not to shiver at the tingle that travels up her arm. It's just that his hand is warm, that's all. Just warmth.
"Lovely to meet you, Kate. What brings you out here tonight? Oh, I know, an errant lover drove you away and you retreated to the roof to think."
She snorts, taking her drink as soon as the bartender sets it in front of them. "Hardly. A friend dragged me out tonight and I really did need to get some air after being inside so long. You?"
He gives a lackadaisical shrug. "My publicist said it would be fun. I think she exaggerated that a bit to get me here. But then again, if I hadn't come, I wouldn't have met you, which would have been a shame."
"Easy on the flattery, Rick. Drink your drink instead of giving me the spiel."
He laughs, tapping his glass against hers. "Touché, Kate. Touché."
She grins, stepping closer as they move away from the bar. "So, publicist, huh? You famous or something?"
His lips lift in amusement and she wonders if she's not as convincing with her feigned ignorance as she hopes she is. "I do okay."
"Anything I'd know?" Okay, now she's playing with fire, but it's fun.
He doesn't answer, though, turning the tables on her. "What about you? What do you do?"
"Well I'm not famous, and I don't have a publicist," she retorts, sipping her drink. "But I have a better idea."
He tilts his head. "I'm listening, Kate."
"You're not here with a date, are you?" she asks, wanting to get that out of the way first.
He shakes his head. "I am delightfully unattached."
"Good," she says, surprising herself. She hadn't come tonight to meet anyone, she sure as hell hadn't come expecting to meet Richard Castle, but since they're here there's no reason she can't enjoy it a little bit. "And since we're both here unattached, why don't we keep the pleasantries to a minimum and enjoy the wait for midnight?"
His head tilts as he considers her and the offer, but after a moment he nods, the sexy sly smile returning to his face.
"You want to preserve the mystery. I like that. Okay, Kate. I agree to your terms – on one condition."
Her eyes narrow. "What's that?"
"Take my jacket. You're cold."
"Okay, fine," she accepts, allowing him to help her into the sport coat, pretending once again that the shiver that rolls down her spine is from the sudden warmth and not from the fact that Richard freaking Castle is giving her his jacket.
"Better?" he asks, flipping the collar down for her. She can smell his aftershave on the jacket, and she does her best to take a subtle breath, wondering for a moment if the scent would seem different if she touched her nose to his skin.
Kate nods in answer to his question, swallowing to wet her dry throat. "Much, thank you."
His smile deepens. "You're welcome. Something tells me you wouldn't enjoy being a popsicle. You'd look incredibly sexy, but I don't think you'd like it much."
She laughs, feeling her cheeks heat. It's a terrible line, but it's still better by far than any of the others she's heard tonight.
"How's your drink?" he asks as they move away from the crowd.
"It's good. Strong," she adds after another sip scratches at the back of her throat.
"The best kind," Rick sips his own drink, licking his lips. Kate does the same thing, watching his throat work as he swallows.
"Aren't you cold now?" she blurts out, lifting a hand and running it down his arm. Not her smoothest moment, but he doesn't seem to be put off by it.
"I'm okay. I got pretty warm inside and then under the heater."
She nods. "I did, too."
"Mmm, but the difference is I have long sleeves and you don't. You don't have any sleeves at all, actually."
Kate laughs. "Okay, that's fair. I didn't think it through when I left to come up here."
He grins, taking another sip of his drink. "So you said a friend dragged you here?"
She nods. "I'm usually working, but I didn't tonight." Only because Montgomery put his foot down and would not allow her to stay on the roster for another night. "She said I had no excuse not to come here instead."
She sees his brow dip as he no doubt tries to work out what she does. A smile flirts at her lips; given his writing, he might not be scared off by her job the way other men tend to be.
"Where's your friend now?"
She gestures toward the door. "Inside. She was dancing, actually enjoying herself. Which is more than I could say for my experience."
"That bad?"
"A few people are lucky to still have their hands, and one guy his tongue."
Castle winces. "Oh, that's pretty bad. And I will say, not that I was planning to, but knowing what I know now, I will think twice about messing with you."
Beckett laughs. "Believe me, I could take you."
"Duly noted."
She grins, playing with his sleeve. "I feel a little bit bad, like I should go back inside for the countdown and find her, but I like it out here."
"I do, too," he murmurs, glancing at her hand. "Better company. Plus, there isn't that much time left."
Beckett pushes his jacket sleeve up, studying the delicate watch on her wrist. "Ten minutes."
"You know, they say the person you start the year with will also be the one you end it with," he muses, indicating for a waiter to bring them champagne when they refill the tray.
"Do they?" Beckett asks, tilting her head. "Well, that can't be right, because I definitely started my year with a guy who was high as a kite and thought he was Jesus, and here I am ending it with you."
Castle laughs. "I'd like to hear the story behind that."
She smirks. "I bet you would." She doesn't give him anything more than that, though, which only makes his smile widen.
"Well, my condolences on slumming it with me this time around."
Kate tilts her head, reaching out and tugging at his shirt. "Oh, don't sell yourself short, Rick. You're not so bad."
He grins, opening his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by the warning that there are just five minutes remaining in the year. The waiter he had flagged down appears at his elbow with full flutes of champagne and refills of their current drinks as well.
"Thanks," she says.
They move away from the growing crowd once they've exchanged their empty glasses for the champagne and cocktails. Despite her earlier teasing, she still wonders if she should go find Lanie, but she doesn't. In ten minutes, twenty minutes, two hours, she'll be back to being Beckett, the one who plays it safe no matter how much her friends tease her for it. But right now, right now, Rick Castle is looking at her like she's blowing his mind and all she's doing is talking to him about the city and the celebrations happening all around them.
"I've lived here my whole life," he says, "but it's still breathtaking on nights like tonight. All those people finding something to be joyful about–"
"Yeah, that's probably the liquor talking for a lot of them," she observes, glancing over the railing, then around the deck. He laughs.
"Maybe so, but if it's not, that's nice to think about. Hopeful, right?" He tilts his head. "And I say that as a guy who's paying a lot in alimony these days. Finding something to be hopeful about is important."
She snorts, pressing her fingers to her mouth. "Okay, yeah, I'll give you that. Since clearly you need all the help you can get," she adds, snickering.
"Hey," he feigns offense.
"You brought it up!" she laughs, stepping closer. The replacement vodka soda has made her cheeks warm, her smile wider.
He laughs, conceding that. "Okay, yeah, I did."
She grins. "Uh huh. But it is nice that you're able to find that silver lining. A lot of people don't – can't – do that."
His eyes grow soft. "I get the feeling you're talking about yourself."
Kate lifts a shoulder, cognizant of the one-minute call that echoes over the roof. "It's not always easy for me, I'll admit."
"Well, maybe that'll change in the new year," he says.
She smiles, humoring him. "Maybe."
"Well, twenty-nine seconds and you'll have the chance to find out."
"Mmm." Her eyes flick to his lips as half a dozen individual countdowns start.
She looks away to make sure she won't miss the table when she puts her drink down. Rick does the same, forgoing picking up his champagne as she takes a step into him. One of his hands lands on her hip, the other lifting to brush her cheek.
"Ten seconds," she starts, joining the growing madness. He grins, looking around quickly for the official countdown before his gaze returns to her.
"Seven," Rick breathes, ducking his head.
"Five," she counters, lifting her chin.
"Four," he says.
"Three," she continues, brushing the tip of her nose over his.
"Two."
"One," they say together, moving closer, closing the last of the distance between them and allowing their lips to touch, to slide together.
Kate hums, curling an arm around his neck, surrendering to the gentle press of his hand in her hair, the teasing slide of his tongue along her lip. She rocks closer, tugging his lower lip between hers, delighting in his groan.
Her knees are shaky when their lips part, her body thrumming.
"Happy New Year," she rasps, dusting another kiss to his mouth, one that quickly grows deeper, longer, has her pulling him against her body and allowing the slide of his leg between hers.
"Happy New Year, Kate," he rumbles once they're able to catch their breath, thumbing her cheek.
She exhales, reaching an unsteady hand out to grab their champagne from the railing. Rick lowers his hand from her cheek to take the flute, but his other arm stays around her waist, anchoring her to him as they sip.
"So," he starts a few minutes later, "found any silver linings yet?"
She chuckles, tugging his head down for another kiss, another easy slide of her lips over his.
"Maybe I have. You're a much better kisser than I imagine the guy downstairs would've been."
He laughs. It's the cocky kind that normally drives her nuts, but tonight she feels it down to her toes. She grins against his mouth. "What about you?"
"I kissed a gorgeous woman at midnight and I'm still kissing her minutes after twelve. I don't need a silver lining right now; my life is great."
"Good."
She sips her champagne, savoring the subtle sweetness on her tongue. Rick's fingers flex around her as he does the same.
Eventually, though, the drinks run dry and it occurs to her that most of the revelers have disappeared. No sooner has she noticed than a slim man steps up beside Rick's elbow, telling them that the roof is now closed.
"You're welcome to head back inside and continue to enjoy yourselves, but this section is closed."
They nod, stepping apart. Kate runs a hand through her hair, licking her lips.
"Thanks," Rick says. "We'll just…"
Kate allows him to catch her hand and lead her to the door that takes them back inside to the rest of the club.
The music is still going strong when they make it downstairs, and though the crowd has thinned out, there are still too many people for her to spot the sparkle of Lanie's dress right away.
"Do you see her?" Castle asks, glancing over his shoulder.
She shakes her head, leaning in to be heard over the music. "Not yet, but she might be waiting at our table."
Her companion nods, stepping aside and motioning for her to lead the way. He doesn't even try to be subtle about checking out her legs and her ass as she pulls him along the outskirts of the dance floor.
"Cute," she says, tugging him closer, taking a nipping kiss from his mouth. Castle grins, obviously pleased with himself.
To her dismay, Lanie's not at the table and neither is any of their stuff. Beckett frowns, walking in a circle around the table before squatting down to see if maybe their things have fallen.
"What's wrong?" Rick asks.
"Ah, our things are gone. Mine and Lanie's."
"Oh," he says, looking around the room. "Maybe she moved them? Would she have taken your stuff and gone somewhere else with it?"
She shakes her head. "Not without telling me."
"But if she couldn't find you?"
Her brow furrows. It's not like Lanie to do that, even if she'd met someone and decided to leave with him, she would've just left Kate's things along with a note.
"Do you think someone swiped it?"
Kate rubs her face. It's always a possibility, one she'd considered as she left her purse underneath her sweater in the booth before going out on the dance floor, but the server had assured them security would do their best to keep that from happening.
"Do you want me to–"
"Are you Kate?"
She spins, coming face to face with the woman who'd been working the bar when they'd first arrived and seated themselves.
"Hi, yes. Yes, I'm Kate."
"Your friend asked us to hold your things behind the bar. She also wanted me to tell you she was called in to work and that's why she had to leave."
Shit. If Lanie was called in, then there's a chance Dispatch had tried to reach her too.
"Thanks. I'll ah, I'll grab that stuff from you now."
She makes a face at her companion, surprised to find him watching her with intrigue in his eyes.
"What?" she asks.
"Nothing," he says, too quickly to be the truth. Kate shakes her head, spinning to receive her sweater and her clutch from the bartender.
"Thanks."
She digs in the oversized wallet for her phone, cursing at the missed calls and the texts from Dispatch, Lanie, and her team. Damn it, it had been stupid to leave her things downstairs. She's not supposed to be on-call until six (Montgomery's consolation for taking her off the duty roster on New Year's Eve), but she should have known this could happen.
"I'm sorry," she says, looking up again to find Rick's eyes intent on her. "I've gotta go. Work," she adds, lifting onto her toes and finding his mouth for a final brief – even as her blood sings for more – firm kiss. "Thank you, Rick. I had fun tonight."
With that, she spins on her heel and darts out of the club, phone at her ear to call in and find out what's going on. It isn't until she's in a cab on her way to her apartment to change her clothes that she realizes she has, in fact, stolen Richard Castle's jacket.
Three months later, he comes into her life again, all smug grins and over the top behavior. She's sure she might kiss him or kill him within the first week of his ridiculous "research" stunt, but despite his best efforts, her self-control prevails on both ends.
They don't talk about New Year's, though. There are times when she thinks they might, when his eyes hold enough recognition to tell her that he remembers, or at least has an inkling that she's the same person he met that night, but then he all-but visibly shrugs it off and makes another comment that has her teeth grinding. No, they don't mention that night.
Until they do.
Until her newfound shadow looks at her from the passenger seat of her car and tilts his head.
"You know, you took my coat that night. And left before I could get your number – though I guess that's kind of a moot point now, since I have your number."
"I–" she sputters. "Well, as you've pointed about twenty times in the last week, you're rich, so you probably have six more just like it."
He laughs. "Wow. You really do hate me. What if I said my wallet was in that jacket?"
"It wasn't. You wouldn't be stupid enough to give a stranger your jacket if your wallet was in it. Besides, I know it wasn't because I saw you put it in your pocket after you used it to pay for our drinks."
"Plus, you grabbed my ass a couple times when we were making out at midnight."
She glares at him until he lifts his hands in surrender.
"You did!"
"I'm pleading temporary insanity."
Castle grins. "Crazy can be fun, too. I don't mind."
Beckett rolls her eyes but feels the corners of her lips rising against her will. Damn it, he shouldn't be able to make her laugh.
"So, do I get my jacket back?" he asks a few minutes later.
Dragging her teeth over her lip, she turns to face him again.
"What was it you said? The person you start the year with should be the one you end it with, too?"
Castle nods, his face losing the smug playboy smirk.
"I did say that – or something like it – yes."
She nods in return, looking back at the road. "Well then, if that ends up happening, you'll get your jacket back."
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a smile – a genuine, sweet smile – work its way across his face.
"I can't wait."
Technically, he doesn't get his sport coat back on New Year's. It's a couple days after when she finally returns the garment to his possession as promised. But given that they opt to skip the club and spend New Year's Eve and the first day or so of 2010 in her bed without any clothing, he doesn't seem bothered by the delay.
A/N: Thank you all for your endless support. I can't begin to describe how much I appreciate you. Happy New Year and may 2019 bring you peace and happiness like no other.