The Nearest Exit May Be Behind You
A/N: Spoiler Alert. I caved and watched Sneak Peak 5. This was the result…
Chapter 2 – Adopt The Brace Position
She has to stop him from leaving before it's too late.
Kate looks around in panic, spots an empty beer bottle propped up against the edge of a Dumpster. Rashly, she picks it up, and smashes it against a wall. The glass shatters, the effect loud and disturbing, the report close to that of a gunshot, magnified and echoing off the narrow walls of the alley.
Splinters of dark green glass rain everywhere, and Kate curses as one catches the top of her foot, nicking it, and causing a bead of bright red blood to rise to the surface of her skin.
She loses track of Castle in her haste to remove the shard of glass and stem the trickle of blood that's threatening to ruin a good pair of shoes.
"Kate? What happened?" he asks, appearing suddenly out of the dark, and kneeling down next to her, his face filled with concern.
He's a little out of breath. He must have jogged the length of the alley when he heard the bottle shatter. This is a good sign, she thinks. Maybe he still cares after all.
His fingers touch her hand, and she pulls away as if his skin is on fire, meeting his eyes as she does so. She's horrified by the hurt that flashes in them.
No, Castle. I didn't mean…
But it's gone before she can remedy it. The shutters come down again.
She reaches back down and skims his knuckles with her fingertips, and this time it's Castle who flinches. They have to stop doing this. It's going to kill them both.
"What happened?" he presses her again, pulling a clean, white handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it into her hand.
Oh, Castle.
"I…I…" she can hardly take her eyes off his mouth. They haven't been this close in days, and it's making her dizzy.
Why the hell did I not do something about this sooner, she thinks to herself? He's intoxicating.
"You what?" he prompts, looking at her in confusion.
Smashed a bottle against a wall so you wouldn't leave me alone in an alley before I could tell you how I feel about you, she thinks?
Instead, she lies. Because she's good at that.
"I must have kicked it over…in the dark," she says, frowning to herself. Because even in his distressed mental state she's pretty sure he'll see right through her.
But he's too busy tending to the cut to take full notice of the strain in her voice as the lie catches in her throat, threatening to choke her.
"I don't think there's any glass left in it," he says gently, skimming the surface with the handkerchief, soaking up the blood. "Can you feel anything jagged?"
Kate is mesmerized by his hands; his large, smooth, tan, capable hands, tenderly ministering to the surface of her foot.
"Eh…no?" she says, the answer coming out sounding like an uncertain question.
He looks up at her face, suddenly. Whatever he sees there worries him.
"This alley is filthy, Kate. That bottle's been lying out in the open. We should take you to a hospital, get you checked out."
Kate nearly laughs. But he persists, because this is Castle, and when he gets the bit between his teeth, and a good disaster story going, there's no stopping him.
"Weil's disease, blood poisoning, never mind the bacteria that could have been left on the rim by some hygiene-challenged, gingivitis riddled…is your Tetanus shot up to date?" he asks, looking at her with concern.
Kate blinks. Chokes back a snort. He's so darn cute when he's playing papa bear.
"Castle, I'll be fine. Honestly," she tries to reassure him, feeling guilty now that she's keeping him there under false pretenses.
But blood is still oozing out from the cut, staining the white cotton bright red. She tentatively lifts the hankie to take a look, and an uneven flap of skin lifts with it, opening up the cut again. Damn. It's worse than she thought. She probably needs a stitch.
"Still, we shouldn't take any chances," he's saying. "Do you…is your car nearby? he asks hesitantly.
They haven't spent much time alone lately with just the two of them in a confined space. He's been running away from her or surrounding himself with her colleagues at every opportunity. Maybe that's what's making him so nervous? Shit, thinks Kate. Jacinda!
"Castle, your…your lady friend," she says awkwardly, "she'll be waiting for you. I've got this. You can go. Really. Retrieve those hot wheels of yours before she…" but she can't finish the light-hearted joke she was attempting to make, because the thought of him, with that bouncy, pneumatic, platinum blonde stewardess…it makes her feel nauseous. Nauseous and possessive.
"Kate, you look pale," he persists.
Yeah, well it's nearly three in the morning, I feel sick to my stomach at the thought of you with someone else, I'm worried I've missed my chance with you, my foot is bleeding into a lovely pair of Madden's, and we're in a poorly lit alley. Paris Hilton would look pale right about now. She says none of this, however.
Because all of a sudden, he's got her by both elbows, and he's helping her to stand, lifting her to her feet. His hand briefly settles at her waist and they both still for a second.
It's just a brief fragment in time, but it's pivotal. Kate senses it, rather than sees it. He's behind her, so close she can feel his warm breath on her neck, and it's so dark, but she feels a shift in him. That powerful, mutual attraction, a familiar need that mirrors her own.
"Okay," she nods. "But I warn you, they'll probably laugh and turn me away."
"Then they'll have me to deal with," he says, still a little stiff, but looking more like himself than he has in days as he guides her back towards the lighted parking lot, his fingers ghosting the small of her back.
Thoughts?
