You guys have absolutely blown me away with the love for the last chapter. I have a particular fondness for the Canon-AU-verse and I'm so excited to explore a version like this. Thank you all once more!
Our Best Selves - Chapter Two
"What about this one?"
Disdain clouds her friend's face as Beckett brandishes yet another dress from the back of her closet. It's brand new, tags still on it, but Lanie just wrinkles her nose.
"Only if you're going to a 90s throwback mixer? That's the only place that color is acceptable."
Rolling her eyes, Kate tosses the offending dress onto her bed, contributing to the ever-growing pile of rejects, before turning back to her closet. She has other dresses, she does not need to jump into Lanie's bag of potentially questionable suggestions just yet.
"Fine. What about this one, then?"
It's more sedate than the one before it – though anything is more sedate than fuchsia – but it, too, is met unfavorably. Her shoulders sink.
"Lanie, what do you want from me? It's a dress. It's black and white. It doesn't look awful on me, and it's –"
"Boring, Kate Beckett. It's the dress equivalent of watching paint dry."
She shifts, lowering the dress to try to see what her friend sees. "Ouch."
Lanie softens a tad. "I'm just saying you would be wasting an opportunity to show how sexy you are underneath those boring power suits if you wear that dress. That's a dress you wear to have lunch with that crazy weird aunt of yours."
Kate snickers. Aunt Theresa. Well, she's not wrong about that. She would wear this dress to lunch with her.
"But," Lanie continues, getting her attention again. "It's not a dress you wear for a date with a handsome –"
"Smug, cocky, annoying –"
"Handsome," Lanie emphasized, eyebrows raised, "author who found you intriguing enough to pay a ton for a chance to date you."
"Ugh." It's all she can really muster. "You know he tried to get me a drink and when I clarified whether he was there with someone, he suggested we could all be there together? I don't want to be his date."
Her friend's head bobs in concession. "Okay, that's less attractive, I'll give you that."
"Uh huh," she hums triumphantly.
"But, this could still be a fun evening if you want it to be."
Scoffing, Kate shifts her weight, adjusting her towel to compensate for gravity's pull. "How?"
"Well for one, your meal is free. Your wine is also free, and you won't be sitting around here in yoga pants reading a novel you've probably half-memorized by now. Plus, you'll finally have the chance to yell at the source for killing off your literary boyfriend."
"Funny. Derrick Storm was just a character, nothing else."
"Right." Her friend sighs. "Kate, you need a night out. You work from practically dawn until well after dark most days. You don't go out with me unless I force you, and Javi tells me you're still avoiding them. Look, I know you feel… like maybe you can't have friends anymore since you were promoted, but you need to let yourself have fun for just a little while, even if it's not with us."
Lanie is right. She's absolutely right, and it sucks to admit that. Beckett works hard, long hours, almost penance for how much she'd made everyone else take on initially. She doesn't date – no time – and tonight is probably the first time she's seen Lanie for something other than a case in ages.
"Besides," Lanie continues, tapping her chin. "Asshole or not, you have every one of Richard Castle's books, including the last one you love to harp on. This is your shot. He's cocky? Give him a piece of your mind about all the inaccuracies you've read from him over the years. Nobody's saying you have to become his number one groupie – though your shrine might suggest you already are – just embrace the you from five years ago who wouldn't admit to being pissed about missing the chance to work a case with him."
"Okay, okay, fine. You're right. I'll go. No promises to enjoy myself, but I'll go."
Lanie rolls her eyes, but nods. Apparently it's enough of a compromise for her. "Good. Now you need to step away from the sad wardrobe you're poking through and look at what I brought."
She thrusts the bag in Beckett's direction, waiting until she takes it to continue, "Pick one, I don't care which. I'm going to do us both a favor and get most of these ready to donate."
Kate watches helplessly as her friend scoops up her discard pile, save for a few items, and disappears. Great, now she's going to have to shop before the next dress-worthy event.
"Fine. And as for that crack about me being a groupie, I'll have you know that I used his last book as a doorstop when I moved in here," she calls. "I barely even managed to finish it."
"Uh huh. Stop stalling and shimmy into something. If you're not dressed by the time I get this pile into a bag, I'm dressing you myself. In my choice."
Fine. Dumping the contents of Lanie's bag onto her bed, she sighs. Without taking the time to really rifle through the selection, she settles on a navy blue wrap dress. It'll probably fall above the knee on her, and while it's classy it also has enough sheen to it to be considered interesting. It will do just fine, she's sure. Otherwise Lanie wouldn't have brought it.
She's just tying it when Lanie returns. The taunt that had obviously been on her friend's lips is thankfully swallowed with the acknowledgement that she's dressed and (hopefully) presentable.
"Well?" She twists, letting her friend look her over. She passes muster because the other woman grins and disappears into her closet for a set of gold heels she'd actually forgotten she had.
"These, trust me."
Wordlessly, Kate slips them on. At least the height helps her feel in control. The taller she is, the better; Castle won't be able to use his frame – as good looking as it is – to distract her if she's able to at least match him for height.
"Better?" Lanie lifts an eyebrow expectantly.
"Uh huh." She fluffs her hair, stopping only when Lanie sighs. "Oh what now?"
"Bathroom, Beckett, you need a curling iron."
"I don't," Kate protests weakly. "I figured I'd either leave it as is or put it in a bun on my way out."
"Nope. Not in that outfit, you're not. That outfit deserves more than your captain hair. Unless you're using it as an invitation for him to unpin the bun and run his fingers through your hair as he's kissing you sensele –"
"Lanie? Focus."
"Right. Sorry."
"Uh huh." She lets Lanie herd her into the bathroom anyway. "So does that comment mean things with Espo are on again, or off?"
"Shut up. At least I've been dating."
"Booty calls count as dating?" Kate pokes her tongue out, yelping when her friend tugs on her hair in retaliation.
"Just remember who's holding the curling iron, Kate."
She laughs. "You wouldn't. You're too busy planning my life to mess up my hair."
"Mmm, maybe."
"Please don't. Plan, I mean."
Lanie's hand falls to her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Honey, you know I'm just teasing you, right?"
Slumping a little bit, she nods. "I know. I'm just already bad at this and it's a little bit humiliating in general. Even if my date weren't Castle, it'd be embarrassing. This is probably going to be a disaster."
"Okay, okay, enough tormenting you for now. Deal?"
"Thank you."
That earns her shoulder another light squeeze. "Close your eyes, I want to surprise you."
Dutifully, her eyes slip shut and she relaxes into her friend's gentle ministrations. It's calming, exactly the way it was when her mother would help her get ready for important events.
"So you're meeting him there?" Lanie breaks the silence first, unplugging her curling iron and setting it aside to cool.
"Mmm?" One eye peeks open. "Oh yeah. At seven thirty. Why? What time is it now?" She's not wearing her watch and her phone is in the other room on the dresser, waiting to go into a purse for the evening.
"Almost time for you to go, lady."
Great, just what she wants. But then again, it'll be over sooner if she just goes.
"Okay, let me go get it over with. How's my makeup?"
Lanie hums, reaching around her for a brush and a tube of lipstick. A few swipes later and she declares her decent.
Time to face the music.
Her friend cleans the bathroom quickly, giving her the chance to get her bag together. It feels odd not bringing her gun, but it's not necessary and she has a feeling if she has it, she'll spend the entire evening reminding herself that it's illegal to shoot her date.
She calls to Lanie a moment later, encouraging her to leave the mess for her to take care of later. She doesn't anticipate it being a late night, after all.
"Just one more thing." Lanie emerges, holding out her hand expectantly.
"What?" Beckett blinks.
"Purse." She gestures, taking the clutch out of Kate's hand and dropping three foil packages inside.
"Lanie."
"Just in case. You never know what might happen. You might actually hit it off."
Rolling her eyes, she snatches her purse back. "What happened to not tormenting me anymore?"
Lanie's shoulders lift in time with her lips. "I said 'for now.' It's later."
"Cute. But I will absolutely not be sleeping with him."
"Tonight or ever?"
Ushering her friend through the apartment, she stops to grab her sweater off the back of the couch. Lanie's sigh goes ignored; she loves this sweater even if it doesn't match her outfit and she could use the comfort right now.
"Ever. Hell has a better chance of freezing over."
Kate pretends not to hear her friend's mutter as they leave her apartment.
"Famous last words."
Her plan had been to be the first one to arrive, but her "date" is already waiting for her when she exits a cab in front of the posh and probably overpriced place Castle had chosen. So much for getting her bearings and having a tactical advantage.
Still, she musters a smile, the one she reserves for politicians and dealing with the FBI, and shakes his hand as soon as she's within reach.
"Mr. Castle."
"Captain Beckett." He grins, raking hooded eyes down her body and back up. "You look lovely tonight."
Pursing her lips, she does the same to him, taking care to make her perusal as slow and deliberate as possible. Just to see if he'll squirm. He does, but not nearly as much as she'd like.
"Thank you. You look almost respectable tonight. Good job."
He laughs, opening the door for her before his hand brushes her lower back as she passes him and steps inside. The touch surprises her, spreading warmth through her limbs, but she schools her face and her breathing. There's no reason to let him know.
It's been a while; it's a purely physiological response. She will not be cozying up to Richard Castle tonight. She'll do her best to have a pleasant dinner and then they'll be able to go back to their completely separate lives. No harm, no foul.
"Have you been here before, Kate? May I call you Kate?"
"I haven't, and sure. Whatever floats your boat, Rick," she clips, taking care to enunciate the 'k' in his name, making him grin again. Apparently she amuses him.
"You hate me a little bit, don't you?"
Her eyebrow lifts. "You outbid one of my detectives and cost me an evening of relaxation."
He chuckles. "No, someone else outbid him before that. I only made it possible for you to be here with someone born in the same century as you. And a fine someone it is." Castle pats his chest fondly. Nope, no ego there. "Don't hate me for that."
"Uh huh. What about propositioning me for a threesome? Can I hate you for that?"
"I was just teasing."
"No," she hums, shaking her head. "No, you really weren't. Captain, remember? I'm trained to know these things."
He looks almost chastised before he shakes it off and squares his shoulders. "Kate Beckett does not share. Got it. And for the record, I prefer one-on-one, too."
Yeah, sure he does.
As soon as they reach their table, Castle takes over for the maître d', thanking the man with exaggerated enthusiasm. He helps her into her chair, his fingertips ghosting along the nape of her neck no reason other than to wind her up. Her breath stutters, but she shrugs off the touch in the process of scooting closer to the table. She sees Rick smile out of the corner of her eye; let him think he got to her. He won't get to her.
He settles across from her, draping his napkin over his lap and leaning forward.
"Now, I heard they'd made some changes to the menu since I was here last, but I think it'll still be enjoyable."
She nods idly, diverting her attention to the wine menu as soon as he begins to go into more detail about the last time he was here. With a model.
Maybe she can get him to spring for a bottle just for her.
She tries, she really does, but somewhere around the fifth story, she just snaps. She cuts him off, asking a pointed question about him, not the ridiculous, arrogant people he apparently associates with in hopes that maybe she'll be able to go five minutes without hearing about a party on someone's boat or in someone's penthouse. His cooperation is short-lived, of course, because as soon as he answers her question, he shifts gears again, going back to ahilarious tale about one of his summers in the Hamptons.
Needless to say, she tunes him out. She isn't proud of that, but she does, taking care to nod at the proper times, but otherwise not offering much. The questions and quips about his writing never make it out, and even the honest conversation they could have had is stymied by his ramblings.
Thankfully, they move on from dinner to dessert quickly. She accepts the offer for raspberry cheesecake, but declines coffee. The last thing she wants is to stay awake reliving this train-wreck of a date. The fact that he doesn't wheedle or attempt to charm her into dragging this out makes her wonder if he's come to the same conclusion. Or maybe he's just run out of obnoxious stories to tell.
They eat, he pays, and then he comes around to help her out of her chair. That she's able to genuinely thank him for, and she doesn't scoot away from the gentle fingertips he rests against her back as he escorts her outside.
"Well, Captain Beckett," he begins once the air hits their faces. It's a little bit cool for mid-May, but after that date, Kate relishes in it. "Thank you for a wonderful evening."
She can't echo the sentiment, but she smiles nonetheless.
"Dinner was delicious," she says instead, ignoring the way the lie tastes on her tongue. It probably was a good meal, but it had felt like dust in her mouth. "Thank you, Mr. Castle."
She shakes his hand firmly, leaving no room for any other sort of farewell gesture.
"Get home safely."
He smiles, offering her a quick nod. "You, too."
With that, she climbs into a waiting cab, giving the driver her address and calling Lanie as soon as they pull away from the curb.
Her friend picks up after just four rings.
"It's only ten-fifteen. Tell me you're going home with him and you need advice."
Kate snorts. "Not even close."
"That bad?"
Slumping back against the seat, she scrubs a hand over her face. "Pretty awful. He didn't shut up. Which would've been fine, except all he did was talk about parties and trips and women, and any number of other ridiculous things. I'd try to ask him something about him and as soon as he answered, he'd go back to talking about this glamorous life he's living. I stopped listening after a while."
Lanie tsks. "Oh honey, that's brutal."
"You know besides some flirting at the beginning, he didn't even ask about me once? He dropped over seven grand for a date and I could've sent a blow-up doll in my place. And it probably would've gone better."
The sigh falls from her lips without her permission. She's not disappointed he didn't ask about her, she's not. She wouldn't have wanted to tell him anything anyway. She's just annoyed at having wasted her time dealing with such an obtuse human being.
"Maybe he was nervous?" Lanie offers after a moment.
"Nervous, Lanie? Do you talk about trips to exotic places you've gone on with other guys when you're nervous on dates?"
"Well, no, but I also know what I'm bringing to the table and I know it's good. It speaks for itself; there's no reason to market it."
She laughs at that, a real laugh for the first time pretty much all night.
"Look, he used to be big time, right?"
Kate hums. He'd been big enough. Not Stephen King big, but he'd been big time to her.
Lanie continues even when she doesn't respond. "So maybe the big shot act was a stupid way to show you he's still big time. And he just… screwed up and forgot wooing you actually involves you, too."
Her eyes roll. That's still pretty terrible. She tells her friend that as she grabs her wallet to pay for the ride. The cabbie grunts his thanks, speeding off as soon as she's closed the door.
"I'm just saying, it was a disaster," she adds, turning back to her call.
"Maybe the next one won't be. Maybe he'll go home, realize he didn't ask you a single question like he'd wanted to, accept that he's a moron, and ask you out again to make up for it."
She scoffs, shoving at her sticky apartment door. Three times now, she's asked her super to fix it, and three times now he's ignored it.
"There will be no next date, Lanie. There was only this date – for charity – and that's it."
"Maybe so. Or maybe the second one will also be for charity; the 'Cluing The Dumb Playboy Mystery Writer In' Fund."
Laughter bubbles out again. "Thanks, Lanie, but I think my next investment is going to be in a vineyard and a puppy. I can't outbid models and actresses anyway."
"Sure it will, honey. Sure it will."
Hanging up, she drops her phone onto the entry table the locks her door behind her. Her head drops back against the metal, exhaustion crawling up her spine.
She's not let down because the date went nowhere. She's not.
Despite turning down coffee at the restaurant, she can't sleep. She tosses and turns, wondering if she should've said or done something differently each time a portion of the night loops through her mind, only to remind herself that he paid for the chance to talk at her. If he'd wanted something different, an honest conversation, real companionship, all he had to do was shut up, and he hadn't.
She drifts off in the middle of reminding herself that it's his loss.
So imagine her surprise the next morning when, not five minutes after she's settled into her chair, the phone on her desk rings and it's not Dave calling with good news about her recommended promotions.
"Captain Beckett? Hi, it's Richard Castle."
Her brow furrows, but she manages to greet him politely. "Mr. Castle. What can I do for you?" She bites back a jab about how early it is and how surprising to hear he's awake after the way he'd bragged about his fantastic 3:30-noon sleep schedule last night.
"Well…" Interesting, he sounds almost tentative. Maybe he's awake but his ego isn't. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out again?"
Her coffee mug clunks against her desk. Surely he's joking. Unless he's trying to torment her. Maybe that's it, he's actually trying to irritate her and she can't do anything about it because he's buddies with the mayor.
"I um, last night wasn't a good date, was it?"
Kate takes a moment to stare at her phone. Is he drunk at eight in the morning?
Her silence must tell him enough, because he continues. "Yeah, I had a feeling that's what you might say, and I'd like the chance to make it up to you. Maybe explain a little bit… if I can."
"I'm sorry, why do you care?" she blurts, knowing she sounds like a rude imbecile in the process. "I don't get it."
"Because I was an ass. It uh, I do that sometimes. A lot of the time, really."
Well, she won't dispute that.
"One more chance?" he asks, sounding hopeful. "Or are you a 'two strikes and you're out' kind of captain?"
She's… wait, he really is serious? He wants to go out again? And apparently a third chance?
"I'm … ah," she stammers, wondering what bizarre universe she woke up in this morning if Richard Castle is both apologizing to her and asking her out.
Looking around, Kate straightens her back, finding her posture and her voice. Anyone else and she would say no immediately, but maybe if she goes out with him again, she'll be able to say the things she wants to say. The things she didn't have the chance to spit out the last time.
"Okay. But it'll have to be lunch. And my pick."
"Done," he agrees automatically. "When?"
"Thursday," she offers, though her tone leaves little room for argument. She glances at her calendar to confirm that it'll work. She has lunch meetings on Wednesday and Friday, but not Thursday. "Noon, Remy's. It's on –"
"I know where it is. They have the burgers and the shakes. So good."
Her lips twist upward at that. The shakes are really good. More surprising is that he apparently eats normal food, too.
"Okay, then. Noon at Remy's on Thursday," she hums, ignoring the voice in her head that sounds like a gloating Lanie.
"Done. I can't wait, Captain Kate."
Her eyes roll at the ridiculous rhyme, but her hand migrates over her lips to hide a smile anyway. She has no idea what the hell she's doing or why she's even agreed to this second 'date,' but in spite of it all, she kind of can't wait either.
A/N: As always, you all have my gratitude for being a part of this journey with me. Thank you.
