"Often people display a curious respect for a man drunk... There is something awe-inspiring in one who has lost all inhibitions."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald
It's happening. Finally, really, honestly happening. Kate Beckett is coming over to the loft for a date. Castle had offered for her to join him, and despite the tentative touches and soft smiles they've been sharing more and more, he had fully expected her to politely decline, to put him off in favor of doing paperwork. Instead, she had smiled at him in the way that makes him hopeful and accepted his offer to spend the evening together indulging in the bloodiest of action films. Actually, I'd love to. Then he had tested his luck later, as he left the precinct. He told her that he couldn't wait for their "date" and rather than balking at the suggestion, she'd agreed. Rick had never expected that his stormy night of wallowing alone in misery after his daughter's graduation would turn around so fantastically.
Castle is just about to uncork a bottle of what he knows to be her favorite red when he hears the knock at the door. She's right on time, of course. Castle approaches the door and takes a deep breath before swinging it open. However, the smile all but drops from his face when he takes in the sight in front of him.
"Hey, Castle."
"Kate, are you okay?" To say he's a bit shocked would be a gross understatement. He had been expecting Kate, sure, but certainly not like this – disheveled, panting and soaking wet on his door step. In the most optimistic corner of his mind he'd hoped that maybe she'd be all of those things in his bed later. Woah, slow down. Castle reels his mind back in from the dive it's taking and ushers Kate inside.
Kate's smile is wide and uninhibited despite the state she's in. Her clothes are soaked completely through, her hair is plastered to her face, and she's creating a small puddle at his door step, yet her smile is bright enough that the storm outside seems to fade in the presence of the sunshine she exudes.
"I couldn't find a close place to park so I had to run through the rain. Your doorman must think I'm a madwoman." She's still grinning as she steps into the foyer and removes the light jacket she'd chosen to wear.
Castle gulps, trying not to gape at the way her wet t-shirt and jeans cling to her body when notices a shiver wrack through her lithe frame.
"You must be freezing," he says once he finds his voice, though all he gets in return is a shrug. "Come with me, let's at least find you something dry to put on."
Castle grabs Kate's hand before she can protest and leads her through his office and into his bedroom. When they cross the threshold, he releases her hand in favor of rummaging through his dresser.
Kate takes the moment to look around his inner sanctum. It's tastefully decorated, not the ultimate bachelor pad she would have assumed he dwelled in four years ago. There are large framed black and white photos – a particularly daunting lion – and an overall warm quality to the room; Kate decides she likes it. Before she can begin to consider why that matters, Castle is turning back to her holding a pair of sweatpants and a Star Trek t-shirt.
"Here," he says, handing her the items. "The bathroom is just through the other door. There should be some towels for you to dry off with under the sink."
Kate thanks him sincerely before disappearing through the door to the en suite.
It doesn't take her long to change and when she exits the bathroom, Castle's breath catches in his throat. She looks so damned good in his clothes. And of course Kate notices his loss of breath.
"What's the matter, Castle?" she smirks. "Cat got your tongue?"
"Kat can have my tongue anytime she likes," his eyes widen comically at the slip. That wasn't supposed to be said aloud, but Kate's response causes his eyes to widen further.
"I'll keep that in mind." She saunters past him back to his office as though she didn't just set him ablaze.
The movie is in full swing, wine is following and their popcorn halfway gone when a particularly gruesome scene in Hardboiled causes them both to cringe. They're sitting shoulder to shoulder, thighs pressed together, neither testing their boundaries further. The next round of gunshots fire off and Kate turns away from the screen, her face now hidden against Castle's chest. He freezes. Stops breathing. Kate Beckett is pressed against him and there's no way to hide the pounding in his chest that definitely wasn't caused by the onscreen battle.
The scene rounds off and she turns to look up at him, the smile she's been sporting all evening now shy.
"Sorry," she says, but doesn't move to extract herself from the cove of his body.
Castle clears his throat. "It's fine, I'll protect you from the bad guys, Beckett."
Kate huffs a laugh at his joke, but the laugh turns to a content sigh when he drapes his arm around her. This is nice. She could get used to this.
It takes her a moment to realize that he's watching her rather than the movie. Kate looks up to find his eyes filled with a warmth and something she's not sure she's ready to admit to yet, but the feeling suffuses through her nonetheless.
"Castle," it's a bit breathless and a lot like pleading, but she can't bring herself to care because as cliché as it may sound, he does take her breath away.
He lifts his hand to brush her hair out of her face and behind her ear, but his hand lingers at her cheek when their eyes lock. He can't help himself. He knows she has walls and that she's still working to be better for him, but he can't help the way his heart beats for her. He certainly can't help the fact that he's desperately in love with her. And he can't help the fact that he's about to kiss her unless she puts a stop to it.
"Kate," he swallows, "I'm going to kiss you now. If you don't tell me to stop, I'm going to kiss you."
She doesn't move to give consent or to deny him. She's breathless and frozen.
"Kate, you have to tell me what you want."
He's practically pleading now, but he won't do anything to ruin this tentative holding pattern they have going. She's given him hope, told him she wants him there when her walls come down, but if this isn't what she wants – if she's not ready to be them just yet – he won't push her.
But then she's sliding a knee across his lap and settling down onto him, holding his face between her hands and saying "I just want you".
When their lips meet for the first time – the first real time – his entire world stops. For a moment he's lost and found, flying and falling all at once. Kate Beckett is kissing him; her lips, tongue, and teeth all working in tandem to quite literally kiss him senseless. It's better than he'd ever imagined and damn if she wasn't right – he really had no idea. With her in his lap, his blood is quickly rushing south and he thinks his ears are starting to ring.
Oh. Oh. That's not his ears ringing. It's the sound of the no-nonsense ringtone Alexis chose for herself on his phone. His daughter is calling and despite the very welcomed weight of Kate on his lap, his daughter comes first.
He extricates himself from the warmth of Kate's body and lunges for his phone, leaving behind a very tousled, confused Detective.
"Uh, hold that thought," he tosses over his shoulder as he tries to reach the phone before it goes to voicemail.
A moment later he's rushing through the living room more disheveled than Kate's ever seen him. He's got one arm through the sleeve of his jacket as he tries to put on a pair of shoes while still keeping hold of his phone and keys in his hand.
"I'll be there in ten minutes tops," Castle says into the phone before stuffing it into his back pocket and continuing his uncoordinated trek through the room. He gets halfway to the door before he realizes that Kate is standing in his living room staring at him as if he just sprouted another head.
"Kate – I – Alexis," the stress of his daughter needing him has shattered his ability to form complete sentences, but the mention of his daughter's name has Kate at his side and pulling him toward the front door before he can blink.
"What's happened, Rick? Where is she? Do we need to take my cruiser?" Kate's questions come in quick succession making it difficult for him to follow. His brain is still muddled from their kiss and the slurred speech of his daughter over the phone line and – wait, did Kate just say we?
"Alexis – Kate she said she's fine. I'm sorry to have to cut our night short. Alexis called and said that she wanted me to come pick her up from the party. Someone spiked the punch and things got a little out of hand and now she's – I don't know. I have to go get her, bring her home, make sure she's safe, and that no one tried to –"
"I'll drive," Kate cuts him off, grabbing the keys from his hand and reaching past him to grab her still damp jacket from the coat closet.
"Kate, you don't have to –"
"Castle, don't. I care about Alexis and I'll be damned if I stand by and watch something awful happen to her because of some stupid high school party or if something happens to you driving out there one those wet roads in your current state of mind. You're barely speaking full sentences."
As much as he wants to he can't argue with her. Not only is she right, but she cares about his daughter's well-being as much as she cares about his and that's more than the raging tide of his emotions can handle right now.
He presses a fast, fierce kiss to her mouth, hoping to convey his gratitude, "Okay, let's go."
"Castle, you might want to put on your other shoe."
A/N: Evan, thank you for the brainstorming, editing, and kind words. This short story took on a mind of its own, but I hope you enjoy it.