The door to his loft swung open as Richard Castle rotated the handle and pushed lightly inwards. Beckett didn't move, and as he raised his eyes from the keys in his hand, he found her gaze already upon him with an expression he had never seen set in the angles of her face. She seemed to be melting into the wall, her head cocked sideways as it rested wearily against the doorjamb while her hazel eyes looked up at him, impossibly soft and large, unguarded, the hardness completely gone from them. There was an aura of vulnerability about her that he had never witnessed. And trust.
In the instant his eyes met hers, he read the unspoken words behind her soft, inviting gaze: she was entrusting herself to him tonight. On her own volition she had removed the professional distance and was allowing him to comfort her, lead her, care for her. And she wasn't just allowing it; she was asking for it. A hot streak of longing streaked from his chest to his groin, stealing his breath and clenching his heart. She was so beautiful. Her eyes were turning his insides into putty, capturing him in their unabashed stare. He clenched his jaw as he forced himself to swallow, his hands falling to his sides instead of gathering her tightly into himself and burying his face in her hair. What business did she have looking at him like that? Turning him into a hopeless sap in the space of a breath?
The moment was brief, but left a profound mark on his emotions. She dropped her eyes before it escalated into anything more, and he stepped back towards the hinges while extending an arm to push the door all the way open, giving himself some time to put everything into context again as his heart hammered out judgment at how little control he had over his emotions for her. One glance had set him spinning. But, to be fair, she had never looked at him that way before, unguarded and open.
The past several days seemed to be crashing down on her all at once, and she had been strangely quiet all evening, unable to conceal the exhaustion as it draped over her like a sodden blanket, rendering her far too compliant to his demands. He was unaccustomed to handling a vulnerable Kate Beckett, but no matter how badly he wanted to hold her and kiss away the pain, he wasn't about to get all pushy mushy and scare her off. Until she signaled him otherwise, the best he could do was be there for her, which is exactly what he planned to do. He was glad she hadn't forced an argument about staying at his loft tonight. He had nearly lost her twice in the last two days, and there was no way in hell he was letting her stay anywhere else.
"Ladies first!" He forced his usual cocky grin into place and gestured inwards.
"In that case, shouldn't I be following you?" Kate barbed with a sardonic twist of her mouth, but even as she said it, she was rolling her weight around the doorjamb and stepping ahead of him across the threshold. It was dark inside the loft, except for a low light streaming from the kitchen. Martha and Alexis had undoubtedly retired hours ago.
Castle chuckled and shut the door behind him. Some of the tension about how he should handle her display of vulnerability faded as she showed some spunk through her light jab. They were back in a familiar place. "Nuh-uh Detective; you do not have license to tease. You must still pay me tribute for all my brilliance the past several days." He reached along the wall and flicked on the lights, catching her wince and blink rapidly several times.
"You aren't going to give that up, are you?"
"On my night of victory? Hell no!" Castle said, stepping up behind her. Beckett had just finished removing her gloves and was starting to struggle out of her leather coat, so he reached up from behind her and hooked his fingers under the front edges of the collar, pulling it over her shoulders and down her arms. As her right shoulder twisted backwards, he heard her huff lightly.
"Oooh, that is going to be stiff tomorrow." She noted.
"Yeah, I saw you take some good hits tonight." There was no judgment in his tone, merely sympathy. "And I only saw the end. But I could hear you two beating the crap out of each other."
"Well, you didn't miss much. Dunn dropped onto me from above and managed to slam me back into the storage door, which is probably where I busted the back of my head."
"Is that how he got your gun?"
She scowled. "That, and a few cheap shots to the ribs."
Castle took her coat and gloves and laid them across the back of an easy chair as she walked unsteadily over towards the kitchen. "No offense, but you look exhausted." He remarked. "Take a seat and I'll fetch you your glass of wine."
"It's because I am. And I've got a killer headache. So grab some Tylenol with the wine."
"There's a bottle of Advil on the counter near you. It's that time of month around here." He smiled, pointing up the stairs.
"Ha! Well, not around here," she said, indicating herself and smiling, "so go get me the Tylenol."
"Same difference." He muttered as he left the room.
A short while later, the kitchen peninsula sported an expensive bottle of Merlot, two wine glasses, and an assorted pile of medical supplies. Beckett was perched on a barstool, leaning forward with one elbow planted on the counter, a hand supporting her head. She had already chased down several tablets of Tylenol with her wine, but Castle could tell it hadn't taken effect yet due to the way she was still coddling her head. She was beginning to fade out again, like she had in the cab, and was just staring blankly at the medical supplies he had unceremoniously dumped beside the wine bottle. A wave of protectiveness washed over him, and he felt a fresh twinge of affection catch him off-guard. As much as he pitied her losing her apartment, he selfishly relished the opportunity he had been given to dote on her a little.
"Why don't I take a look at where you cracked your head, assess the damage?" He offered, giving her some direction that she could latch onto. "I'll clean it out with some of the bubbly stuff; make sure it doesn't need any stiches from Lanie."
"Mm…that sounds like a plan." She stirred and focused on his face. Her eyes were large and dark. "Bubbly stuff?"
"Yah, you know, it fizzes." He picked up an opaque brown bottle and read the label. "Hydrogen Peroxide, Three percent. Use for first aid antiseptic, and for minor cuts and abrasions." He took his eyes off the label and looked over the bottle at her. "Although, there are so many other awesome things you can do with this stuff."
"You would know," She said, slowly straightening. "You want me to go to the sink?"
Castle hid his slight surprise that she was acquiescing to his attentions so readily. Not even a reflexive "I'm fine." She must be really exhausted. Or that headache was getting to her more than she was letting on. "No," He replied, "you don't have to get up. Just sit right there and lean your head over the counter. It shouldn't be that messy."
He grabbed a fresh dish towel and placed it folded on the counter in front of her to catch any excess peroxide. She folded her arms up on the counter before leaning over lowering her forehead down onto them, taking a reflexive deep breath as she relaxed deeply into her forearms. Castle stepped up alongside her, setting the peroxide and a gauze pad on the counter near her elbow, desperately trying to ignore the fact his pulse was quickening at the opportunity to run his hands through her hair. Focus, he thought. Just focus.
"Point and show me where it is." He asked, and her fingers rose from the counter to shuffle lightly across the surface of her hair indicating an area near the top of her occipital bone in the back of her head.
"Somewhere around here." She said, her voice muffled as she spoke into the counter top.
Castle raised his fingers, paused, and then began gently stroking her hair, parting it carefully and trying to get a visual on her laceration. It felt like silk in his fingers. Well, at least until he hit the parts where blood had dried and matted the strands together. As his fingers caught in the mess, several of his fingertips bumped solidly into her scalp, eliciting a sharp hiss from Beckett.
"Castle! Watch it! Jeez…" She admonished him.
"Sorry, Sorry! You've got a nice mess back here. Let me get something to wash out the blood." He grabbed a clean cloth and soaked it in warm water from the sink, then applied it dripping to the offending tangle. He carefully let the warm water do the work, trying not to press more than lightly on the wound. Beckett didn't say anything, but just kept breathing in deep, even breaths that he found rather distracting. After several applications, much of the blood had loosened and he was able to get down to the actual cut. Which wasn't as bad as he had feared.
"Well, Kate, looks like I am going to have to break out my razor and some butterfly bandages."
"What? No, Castle, you are NOT shaving my head!" She asserted, starting to raise her head off the counter.
"Oh don't worry; it will be just a small patch." He grinned, pushing the top of her head lightly and forcing her head back down.
"Castle…" She growled into the polished granite.
"Is it ok if I get the razor I've been using all week? I've run out of new ones."
"Rick!" This time her head did make it up and she shot a look at his face to judge his seriousness.
He laughed heartily. "Alright, I'm just kidding! It's not that bad. A good bloody split, but it doesn't need stiches. You'll just have a scar with a great story behind it. Now put your head back down so I can clean it out."
She obliged, and he caught her trying to hide a smile.
"You're so easy when you're tired." He commented, dribbling peroxide down into her hair and onto the exposed wound. "Hold still until this finishes bubbling. It's so cool!"
Her shoulders shook lightly with a chuckle. "Oh, if only you knew..." She said almost inaudibly, still muffled by her downcast position.
He stiffened before choosing to pretend he hadn't heard the comment. Taking the bait for a round of sexual innuendos would push him to the brink, and with the way she'd been acting tonight, he'd probably do something he'd regret in the morning. Instead, he repeated the peroxide wash several more times, then capped the bottle and dabbed the wound with a clean gauze pad. "Ok. You're good. There is still some blood still in your hair, but you can wash that out in the shower." He stroked her scalp to put the hair back in place, avoiding the injury now that he knew where it was. She murmured something indecipherable, but it resonated deep in her chest, causing the twist in his chest to return. "What was that?" He said, stilling his fingertips.
"I said that feels good." She mumbled louder.
He started stroking again, playing with her hair, twisting it in his fingers. "Good. Maybe it will make up for me bumbling into your cut a second ago." He was stalling, trying to draw out the moment. What he really wanted to do, he thought, was to place a soft kiss on the nape of her neck and carry her off bed.
"Hmmmm, no, you're still gonna pay for that." She said in throaty tones.
He didn't care. Kate Beckett was making sounds in his loft that were driving him crazy. He took a deep breath and stilled himself, trying to place her interests ahead of his. She was exhausted, and had to get up at the crack of dawn to finish up at the precinct. Besides, if he kept this up any longer she might come to her senses and start getting dodgy. He forced himself to extract his hands and move away. He shouldn't push his luck too far. "Do you want to jump in the shower?"
"Yeah. It's too late for a bath." She sighed, sitting up slightly and grabbing her wine glass, unceremoniously draining the rest of its contents. "But I have to cut my ankle tape off first."
He cocked his head sideways and squinted his eyes in confusion.
"I twisted it jumping into the tub when my apartment blew up. Lanie taped it up for me before we left for the take-down tonight, just in case I had some action."
"Oh – was that how you managed a footrace with Dunn a few days ago? Lanie had it taped up?"
"Yeah, she put so much athletic tape on that sucker it was basically iron-clad."
"Nice trick." Castle remarked as he walked into the kitchen and pulled a pair of scissors out of the drawer. Beckett was carefully unwrapping the bandage on her left wrist when he returned, exposing the still-healing burn beneath. "Ouch." He commented.
"I was supposed to re-dress it yesterday but I didn't have time. Whoops."
"I won't tell. We can redress it after you shower." He tapped the scissors against his palm. "If you want, I can cut off your tape for you."
She looked up at him for a moment, her eyes supple and dark. "Sure. It'll save me the pain of bending over to do it."
He paused. "Your ribs? Are they that bad?"
She shook her head lightly. "Can't do much about bruised ribs. But yeah, they're angry with me right now. Probably strained some of the intercostal muscles between the ribs."
"Do you want to put some ice on them?" He asked.
"No. I'd rather get in the shower and just take some meds for the pain." Sitting all the way up, she glanced around the room and placed her palms on the edge of the counter as if to push herself off the barstool. "Should I move to a different chair so you can reach my ankle?"
"Well," He said, perusing her feet hanging below the counter, "it would save me some crawling around. I'm not sure how well the housekeeper sweeps under there. Wanna move to the couch?"
She glanced over at the inviting overstuffed furniture piece. "No. If I settle into that, I'll never get up." She nodded over to the wooden chairs by the dining room table. "I'll grab one of those." She slid her legs around and scooted off the stool, tossing her head quickly to throw back the stray locks that had fallen over her face while her head had been horizontal.
It was a good thing Castle was still standing relatively in front of her, because Beckett plowed straight into his chest.
"Kate!" Castle cried in alarm as his hands dropped the scissors and shot to her sides to keep her from glancing off him and falling to the floor, quickly moving them up towards her armpits as she cried out in pain from the bruises he had accidentally clutched. Her weight was fully against him, her face planted into his sternum and her hands shooting up to his hips in order to catch herself. In a matter of seconds she had gotten her feet back under herself as Castle drew her upwards and inadvertently towards himself as he balanced her weight.
"Sorry, I guess my ankle gave out." She muttered, refusing to bring her eyes up to his in such close proximity. He was still holding her only inches away, his hands resting on the upper portion of her ribcage, with his thumbs sandwiched between her upper arms and sides and his fingers splayed out and wrapping around beneath her shoulders. He could feel the fine edges of her shoulder blades sliding along his fingertips as she lowered her arms from his waist to hang at her sides.
"Yeah right…I don't believe it. Kate, look at me." Castle's tone was soft but urgent, his head tilting slightly towards hers.
"I'm fine, Castle." She shook her head and kept her eyes downcast, attempting to twist sideways out of his grasp towards the table and chairs.
Castle didn't budge. And he didn't let go, but used his hands to firmly square her shoulders in front of him again. "No, I mean it. Look at me."
She hesitated.
"Kate." His tone was insistent and final, much like he used with Alexis when he wanted to let her know there was no room for argument.
He felt her sigh in resignation as she gave in and a moment later he was staring into those deep, dark pools rimmed with swirling green that had caught him so off guard at the door just moments prior. But this time, he was looking for something specific, shifting his gaze from one eye to the other. Her eyes were dark, for sure. Too dark.
"Have you been doing drugs, Detective? Because I could swear your eyes are dilated."
She immediately dropped her eyes down and looked to the left, like a naughty child caught in the act. "What are you talking about? You can't tell that."
"Yes I can, Kate. I notice things." Castle didn't feel the need to elaborate on the fact that he was well educated on how her eyes looked in many different settings.
"Well, they get like that when I am tired." She lamely supplied. She still wouldn't look at him.
"Oh. And do you always suffer from equilibrium issues, light sensitivity, and splitting headaches when you are tired?"
"What?" She finally gave him a sidelong glance with a slightly peeved expression.
"You've fallen into me twice, and don't think I didn't notice you wince when I turned on the lights." He struggled to read her face. She didn't look surprised…but more indignant. Like she'd been found out. "Why didn't you tell me?" He asked softly.
"It's not a big deal. I can't do anything about it anyway." She shrugged. "Can you let me go now?"
Castle dropped his hands, letting them slide the full length of her sides before removing his touch. He didn't miss the quick inhale Beckett tried to mask by turning it into an exaggerated sigh. And it made him want to reach out and do it again.
"Tell me you at least got it checked out by Lanie." He said, looking at her disapprovingly.
"Well, to be honest, I didn't really figure it out myself until we got here." She looked at him quizzically. "Why do I feel like I'm in trouble? It's not like I asked for a concussion."
"Because if I had known, I wouldn't have given you any wine." He paused, making a connection. "That's why you wanted the Tylenol. Advil thins your blood, increases the risk of internal bleeding."
"Way to go, Sherlock." She chuckled condescendingly. "Although you should have figured out I was concussed awhile ago. And to answer your question about the wine-" she pulled out a dining chair and sat down. "-I've had a hard day. The risk vs. reward definitely weighed in favor of a full glass. Which was excellent, I must say."
He walked over and pulled another chair around so that he was facing her. "Well, I still wish you would have clued me in." He huffed as he bent down and cupped a hand around the calf of her left leg, bringing it into his lap. He appreciated the firmness he felt beneath his fingers. They felt as good as they looked.
"Wrong leg Castle." She said, leaning back into the chair and relaxing again after her interrogation.
"Oh. Well, I might as well take your boot off while it's up here." He replied, pushing up the hem of her pants and unzipping the side of her three-inch heeled boots. "How you run in these things is a mystery I will never comprehend." He commented as he pulled on the heel and slipped it off. On a sudden impulse he stripped her sock off as well, revealing a fine-boned, well-manicured foot. He stole a quick glance at her face, but she was just regarding him with apparent amusement, her face a picture of relaxation and security. Wrapping one large hand around the edge of her foot, he pressed his thumb into her sole as he distributed pressure from his fingers across the tendons on the top of her arch. "But they've gotta hurt your feet after a long day like this."
Kate rolled her eyes back and closed her eyes, moaning lightly in sheer pleasure. "Wow, Castle, if I knew you gave out free foot massages I would have asked a long time ago." She said breathily.
Castle's heart jumped a beat, and he worked his hand slowly, bringing his other hand on board and running a pattern of flexing, stretching, pressing, and molding, working each tendon while paying special attention to the points that bore the most weight. Kate's occasional humming and mumbled affirmations of pleasure were both encouraging and tantalizing at the same time. He could feel his blood rising, and something was building in his chest, a gradual pressure mounting until he felt he was going to burst open with emotion. His breath started shortening as the pressure mounted, beginning to come in shallow wisps, and he knew he was playing with fire.
Against his will, he stilled his hands after several long minutes, leaving his hands wrapped around her foot, feeling his palms warm her slightly cooler skin. He worked up the courage to look at her face, fearing what he would see, trying to think of a comedic one-liner to dash away the sexual tension if she looked like she was about to flee.
When he finally did look at her, he realized she had been gazing at him the entire time, and the realization sent white-hot bolts of lightning through his chest once again, stilling his shallow breath into no breath at all. Her head had tipped slightly forward, and every muscle in her face was relaxed, softening the perfect lines of her cheekbones. Her eyelids hung low and heavy, lashes hovering over her cheeks, with her pupils so dark he could barely make out the subtle glint of her irises. The line of her mouth was full and relaxed, her lips parted just enough to allow breath to pass through.
In another time, or another world, Castle knew he would run his hands along her legs until he rested them on her hips, giving him a balance point to lean in and capture those delicate soft lips with his own confident ones, feel her sigh into his breath while he drank softly of the deliciousness that was Katherine Beckett.
But this was not that time.
Castle drew a deep, long breath into his lungs, forcing his overactive imagination to stop conjuring up new images of where he would take her and what he would do. He blinked several times and glanced away from her to usher some sense of reality back into his mind. He was sitting in a hard wooden chair, holding her foot upon his lap, and she was zoned out in some sort of half-trance in the chair opposite him. If this was not that time, he thought, with a little patience it could be that world. Don't mess it up.
Gently and slowly, he returned her left foot back to the floor and reached for its mirror twin. Settling the booted foot on his lap, he carefully extracted her foot with as little bumping or twisting as possible. It was a much more difficult task than the previous boot due to the volume of tape Lanie had layered on, and at one point he had to wiggle and jerk slightly to persuade the boot to release her foot. Beckett grunted and mumbled something unintelligible, causing him to clench his jaw and grind his teeth to keep his mind on task. Once he had removed the sock, he finally grabbed the scissors and set out to accomplish his original mission: cutting off the tape. The white cloth strips encased her entire ankle forming a soft, lightweight, semi-flexible cast that looked like a crew sock with the toe cut off at the ball of her foot. As he started to slide one blade under the edge nearest her toes, he smiled in triumph to himself. His powers of touch had reduced Detective Kate Beckett into a pile of putty in his hands. Score one for Richard Castle.
The cold steel of the scissors combined with the sawing of the blades against her skin must have somewhat roused Beckett from her stupor, because Castle felt her shift slightly in her seat. He glanced up as soon as he could, but he found her still completely relaxed, the only change being that her eyes were actually focusing on what he was doing. Finishing the last snip and allowing the soft cast to drop onto the floor, he assessed her ankle. It was a mediocre display of purple and blue; the bruising was not as bad as he would have thought. He ran his fingers lightly along her ankle bone, feeling for excess heat, noting the slight sponginess created by the excess fluid in her tissues. Overall, it looked pretty good for a sprained ankle.
Castle set her injured foot back onto the floor, being careful not to let it drop or jar. Leaving a hand on her knee, he scooted out of his chair and crouched down next to hers, watching her half-heartedly track his approach.
"Hey." He whispered, lifting a lock of hair from her face and tucking it around her ear. "You still wanna take that shower? Or are you good for bed?"
She rolled her head towards him sleepily, blinking several times before inhaling a giant breath that seemed to fill her lungs endlessly before they collapsed and emptied in a profound exhale. Instead of answering, she emitted a guttural sound deep in the back of her throat that sounded like she was protesting him asking her to make a decision.
"I'm sorry, I don't speak Rodian. You'll have to translate." Castle said with a smile.
Beckett rolled her eyes and took another breath. "Too tir'd to think 'bout it. You kn'cked me out."
Her tired, slurred speech lent her a new level of vulnerability and a new swelling of possessiveness rose within him. "Well, I could always make the decision for you and carry you off to bed, if you like." He waited tensely, studying her face, half hoping she would take him seriously, and half afraid she would. He wasn't even sure whose bed he would take her to; his or hers.
She waived a hand, shaking her head. "Nonono, I go' it. Need a show'r."
He laughed softly and squeezed her knee. "Are you sure? Seems like you're already half-way to dreamland. Tell me: am I as ruggedly handsome there as I am in the real world?"
Her hand rose up and sloppily landed on his cheek before shoving his face away with surprising force for her relaxed state, toppling his weight back on his heels. "Just gimme a few minutes. Go get me some towels or somethin'." She said, bringing her hands up to her face and rubbing her eyes lightly.
Castle pushed himself upwards and stood, grinning like a boy in a candy store, a permanent warmth settling in his heart. He started walking towards his room, intent on finding something she could wear to sleep in. He could be patient. He could be really patient. Because eventually, he would wear her down, and on that day nothing would stop him from drawing her into his arms and never letting go.