A co-authored fic by chezchuckles, griever11, and jstar1382.
She looks back at him. It's like she's playing a game of chicken with Castle. Each of them daring the other to make the first move. Which, when she thinks about it, is really representative of so much in their partnership.
She sighs.
This is ridiculous. She's a cop; there's no reason to be afraid. Yes, it's an old building, but people do live here. It's not like it hasn't been serviced.
Still, one thing's for sure, there's no way she's living here, walk-up or no walk-up. But she'll go through the motions for him. She'll play along with his need to be her real estate agent.
On a breath, she swallows her pride and steps onto the dated platform. The elevator reminds her of a prop in an old horror movie or an episode of The Twilight Zone. One where the audience screams at the unsuspecting characters on screen for being so oblivious to the horribly awful decision they are about to make.
However, she's not a clueless, one-dimensional character. She knows better.
This is a bad idea.
She's just too stubborn to back down.
It makes her act foolishly because if she's being honest with herself, the wobbly floor beneath her feet and the whine of the cables overhead has her wanting to run straight out of the building. Yet she takes a deep breath and turns back towards her partner, raising her eyebrow at the fact that he's still frozen in place.
"You coming, Castle? Unless you're suddenly out of reasons why this is the perfect apartment for me." She's proud of herself that her voice projects a confidence that she's entirely lacking.
He offers her a small upturn of his lips with a nervous laugh playing on his tongue, and he takes a step next to her.
"This is the perfect apartment. You'll see. Just wait til we get up there." His words sound shaky, but she won't let his apparent nervousness get to her.
She's proving a point - riding the damn elevator to see what will inevitably be another imperfect apartment in a string of imperfect apartments. "I'll take your word on it."
It's like he's doing this on purpose, one dud after another. It really doesn't matter, because with or without his help, she'll eventually find one. Because she has to. She can't live in his loft forever.
Kate grips the side railing as the elevator door groans to a close and the carriage shakes to life, ascending toward their destination. "How old did you say this building was again?"
"Turn of the century, but it has a lot of charming amenities."
"Yeah, charming," she mutters. "Turn of which century?"
He laughs, but it doesn't sound confident, and neither is she.
Her eyes have just fluttered up to the numbers on the vintage dial when a rumble of thunder shakes through the elevator. The overhead light flickers ominously. She turns to Castle and it's like he's seen a ghost, his cheeks drained of all color. He clenches the railing at his side.
"Okay. I'm starting to think this was a bad idea," he admits.
Just before everything slams to a stop and the electricity cuts out.
(...)
Castle has learned the hard way that Beckett is at her most dangerous when she's silent. And – he cuts his eyes to her, taking in the ramrod straight, rigid posture – she's been silent for a while. The only thing Beckett's done is jab continuously at the 'For Emergencies Only' button. Which, much to their dismay, has done absolutely nothing.
Not good.
They've been suspended in the car for what he feels might be only about thirty seconds. He's not sure, and he doesn't want to move to check his watch or his phone, just in case the slightest sway of his body movement sends the whole car crashing to the ground. She's so violent with that button-jabbing that every time the elevator rocks with it, he grits his teeth.
Of course, it's probably also for the best that he not move, make himself as small a target for her ire as he possibly can. And maybe if he stays in the corner unnoticed, she'll forget he's there until the elevator moves again.
Because surely it will move again. Up, with the help of electricity, and not down with gravity.
"Are you getting any reception?" Beckett is the first to break the silence, pausing her assault on the poor unassuming emergency button. Her hand stretches up over her head, phone clenched tightly in her fist. She huffs, rotating on the spot, eyes focused on the phone. "Because I'm not. My messages aren't going through either."
He fishes his own phone out of his pocket, carefully, and his heart sinks when he sees the 'No Service' in the corner of the screen. He taps out a quick message to the boys and Alexis anyway, hitting send in the hopes that it will eventually go through. He exhales, preparing to give her the bad news.
"Ah, no luck. Sorry. Sent a text to the boys just in case, though. Maybe it's just a temporary solar flare."
Beckett growls in frustration, jamming her finger on the emergency button one more time.
The car rocks.
If he squeals like a girl, she'll never let him live it down.
"You do know the definition of insanity, right?" The question slips out before he can stop himself. He can't help it, always needing to egg her on, wanting to get a reaction out of her, divert her attention from their impending doom. Sometimes he's rewarded by a quirk of a smile or an exaggerated eye roll, and sometimes (like now) she fixes him with the most menacing glare he's ever seen. He winces.
Here it comes.
"There's an elevator in this one," she snarls, her voice unnaturally low. Her lips are twisted in something like a - oh. Oh, she's mocking him. Her nostrils are flared, a vein pulsing from the middle of her forehead. "This is the perfect apartment. Just wait until you get up there. Sorry to break it to you, Castle, but this feels like a pretty damn big sign. The Universe ain't having it."
Okay, that's funny. The corner of his mouth twitches and when he realizes his error, he clears his throat, rearranging his features into what he thinks may pass for a look of remorse.
She doesn't buy it.
"Are you seriously laughing right now?" She strides up to him, her heels clicking against the metal floor. It draws his attention to her legs, long, lithe, toned under those skinny jeans which he knows she keeps wearing to torture him. How does she even fit in them? And how long does it take to peel-
"Hey, ow!" He yelps as her finger stabs him in his chest. What the hell? This is what that poor 'For Emergencies Only' button has been subjected to? No wonder it refused to work for her. "Can you not poke me? That hurts."
"I hope it hurts. You deserve it - this is all your fault. The button is useless, we have no cell reception, and if I hadn't listened to you, I wouldn't be in this metal death trap."
"I..This - I didn't make the elevator stop," he sputters, indignant.
"You were the one who had to see this apartment."
"Hey, you agreed see it."
"Only so you'd shut up about it."
"I was only trying to help." God, she's so infuriating. He may not have been completely above board with his intentions but the elevator getting stuck isn't his fault.
She's still glaring fiercely at him, like a lioness about to pounce. There's a reddish tinge to her cheeks, her eyes are bright with anger, and wow, she's hot when she's pissed off. He's always had a thing for strong-willed bossy women, and Kate Beckett is as strong-willed as they come.
And as hot.
And bossy.
He's torn between being affronted and being aroused, and of course, he can't ignore the fact that he's seen her naked recently (even though he promised her he hadn't). Suddenly he's feeling warm - too warm all over - flushing with the stifling heat.
He pulls off his sports coat and lets it crumple to the ground. Undoes his cuff links. Rolls up his sleeves. He curses internally as his stupid, clumsy fingers fumble at the top button of his shirt. Eventually, he manages to slide the small disk free and swallows a desperate mouthful of air. Better. Still breaking out in sweat, but at least he can breathe.
"Castle, wh-what are you doing?" Beckett's voice has dropped an octave, hoarse.
Castle blinks at the change in her tone. He realizes suddenly that she's leaning in, standing close enough that they're practically toe-to-toe. He must have missed it while they were arguing, drawn to the other with their intensity of feeling, but she's-
Gulp.
So close. Why is she so close? The elevator could fit a cow in here, hanging on a meat hook overhead with those convenient drains, slaughterhouse style. And yet she's right here with him, chest to - breast - oh God. He shouldn't go there. Not when the smooth skin of her neck looks as delectable as it does. Within his reach if only he narrows that little gap between them. He just wants a touch. A taste.
Whoa. Slow down.
Castle jerks back as if he's been touched with a cattle prod. His spine collides with the aged paneling of the elevator and he grunts, the thoughts knocked right out of his head. Being in an enclosed space with an angry-yet-hot Kate Beckett is messing with his brain and he feels slow and stupid and uh, was there a question? She asked him a question, didn't she? Right. What was he doing? Yes.
"I, uh. Coat was too warm," he manages to say. He kicks at the garment on the floor for emphasis. "No ventilation. It's getting hot in here."
Beckett doesn't address his answer, merely makes an unintelligible noise in the back of her throat, a combination of a sigh and a groan. It sends all sorts of wonderful, tingly feelings down his spine, arousal flooding his system. He has to keep a tight hold on the railing behind him because he's seconds away from grabbing her, pushing her against the wall, and making out with her.
Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip. It looks soft. Pink. It disappears just as quickly as it appears but now he's all kinds of bothered, thinking about where else it can go and Beckett still only inches away from him.
Her gaze is on the shirt he's just undone, but he notices that she's also alternating between his bare forearms and his face, and oh God, if she doesn't say something soon he's going to have to kiss her or maybe he's just going to have a heart attack.
Her eyes are blazing when they finally meet his. Dark. Angry. But glimmering with something unfamiliar. She exhales and her breath is warm against his skin - which doesn't help anything, because he's already so turned on and uncomfortable and -
Her lips part. "So take off all your clothes."
What?!
(...)