Bucket List
co-authored by Sandiane Carter and chezchuckles
It's been a glacial week for them. Agonizingly slow. At a veritable - if not actual - standstill.
So he comes up with a plan.
(Still, beggars can't be choosers, Richard Castle. Be grateful she is here at all.)
Almost against her will, Kate has been doing all these little things - lovestruck smiling when he hands her a morning bear claw, brushing her fingers against his in the elevator, knocking knees with him under the restaurant table.
One afternoon, she hooked her arm through his and pushed him out the door so the two of them could get lunch for the team. And yesterday morning, when he showed up an hour late, he found her in the break room with her hands on her hips, staring down the espresso machine like a bull about to take on the red cape. He handed her the coffee he'd already gotten her, and Kate turned to him, lifted up on her toes, and kissed him.
Intimate and tender and happy.
Smiling at him.
And Esposito was in the room.
He got a fist bump for it, but he also got an idea.
So the week's progress was slow, yes (to him at least), but it was also progress.
Which is why he comes to the precinct this morning with a plan - cross off another item on his bucket list and also give her a chance to catch up with who they are now - where they are going.
He only has one coffee this morning and he finds her at her desk, doesn't even look at his chair (he doesn't want to be tempted), and places her cup by her keyboard with a flourish.
She glances up at him, that disbelieving happiness on her face, like she can't believe she's doing this (or maybe that she hasn't done this before), and she curls both hands around her coffee and then frowns.
"Where's yours?"
"I'm supposed to meet the publisher in twenty minutes. And-"
She bites her lip, brow knitting.
"-then I promised Alexis I'd pick her up for lunch." He knows the Alexis part will get her, and it does - her brow smooths out; she nods.
"Okay, well. I guess you're in and out today?"
"Paperwork, right?" he says, grinning at her, resting a hand on the back of his chair but still, still not allowing himself the temptation of moving around and sitting in that chair. Not today.
"Yeah, true," she says, but she looks disappointed. And actually, that's good. A good thing. For her to realize how much she does want him here, with her. "But I - well. Okay."
"I wanted to sneak out before Gates saw me too." He rubs his hand across the top of the chair. "And you don't need me for paperwork."
She sighs, her chin resting on her hand. "True. But I got us something. A chaperone."
He startles on a laugh. "A what?"
She gestures with her chin to his chair and he slides his gaze down, laughs again at the thing she's got settled there.
A monkey.
A stuffed animal with a Yankees jersey, felt baseball cap, those long and spindly arms, furry white-
"A rally monkey?" he grins, snatching it up with glee. "Holy crap. Our chaperone is a rally monkey? Kate, for you this is seriously bizarre. Adorable, but bizarre."
When he glances back at her, she's grinning like crazy, eyes as bright as he knows his are, but she's trying to hide it behind her hand, ducking her head, her entire posture so proud and pleased and practically smirking. Like she knows something he doesn't-
"Oh," he gasps, because now he gets it. "Now I - now I own a monkey."
She grins even wider, abandons hiding it. "Now you own a monkey. Sorry - I did look into maybe adopting one at a rescue place, and I tried to figure out the easiest way to get a permit to own a pet monkey in the city, but-"
"But this is so much better. I love it." His heart clenches, he squeezes the albino little rally monkey, places it back on his chair. "That's good he's here, because he can sit in for me while I'm gone today."
She tilts her head, glances down at the monkey, then back up at him. "Oh. Yeah."
"And then I'll come pick him up later. He can chaperone us then," he says. Doesn't say that later is most likely tomorrow, if he can stick to the plan.
He wants to stay here now, instead of leaving her. He really does.
But he has a plan.
She spends ridiculously large chunks of her afternoon staring longingly at his chair instead of doing any work at all; the monkey smiles blindly at her, not quite filling the void left by Castle, opposing his unending good cheer to the bittersweet ache in Kate's chest.
For what must be the twentieth time, she turns away with a sigh, tries to focus on the paperwork from their recently closed case, her eyes skimming over the details of the suspect's confession.
She catches Esposito smirking at her, arches a threatening eyebrow; he quickly looks away, although the line of his mouth remains in a suspicious curve.
The guys made fun of the monkey earlier. They haven't stopped, really, and although it's the very reason why she chose it - it's so ugly, she knew it would immediately win Castle's love - she cannot help feeling a little defensive of the thing.
It's their mascot, right? Their chaperone.
Castle's and hers.
She doesn't want anyone else to make fun of it.
Of course, Ryan and Esposito must know this, because they're playing with her. Still. She ignores them as best as she can, let the mocking looks on their faces go unanswered - they're like an itch, and if she can keep from scratching it long enough, it'll go away.
"Detective Beckett."
Kate jerks - Gates is quite good at sneaking up on them, really - and straightens in her chair, brushing a hand over the file she's holding as if she wants to make sure it's clean or clear (she's not sure which).
She hates it, this feeling of guilt, even when she's done nothing wrong.
"Sir?"
"What is this...thing doing here?"
Gates nods at the monkey like she doesn't want to get too close, like it could be explosive or contagious, and Kate grits her teeth.
"It's a - it's a gift, sir."
The captain's eyebrows lift in a carefully executed expression - amused disapprobation.
"From Mr. Castle, I presume?"
Well, technically-
"No, sir," Beckett replies, always respectfully polite.
It's the other way around.
A brief look of surprise crosses Gates's eyes, but it disappears quickly and then she's pursing her mouth, saying, "Well, whoever gave you this, detective, my precinct isn't a zoo or a children's playground. No stuffed animals."
"It won't stay here, sir," Kate answers tightly, an intense wave of nostalgia cresting in her chest. Oh, she misses Roy, her Captain.
She grabs the monkey, intending to stuff it into her bottom drawer until she leaves (she's sorta sad that Castle left this morning before even naming the thing); but Gates makes a small sound of surprise and catches the arm of the animal.
The captain's looking at the jersey like she didn't seen it before, and maybe she hadn't, Kate thinks - from where she was standing, the arm of the monkey probably hid the baseball t-shirt.
"A rally monkey," Gates states, and her voice sounds a lot more natural, more genuine than it normally does. "For the Yankees."
Kate holds her breath.
Victoria Gates chuckles - actually chuckles - before asking, "Are you a fan of baseball, detective?"
"Yes," Beckett answers, doesn't think twice about it. "My father took me to baseball games when I was younger. I don't have that much time now, but I still love it."
"Me too," the captain says, lowering her tone as if in confidence. "My husband always buys me tickets for our anniversary. The best seats he can find. Some women would complain, say they want flowers or jewelry, but there's nothing I like more than watching a good game with him."
With him.
Gates clears her throat, as if surprised to find herself talking about something so personal, and steps back after she's set the monkey down on Castle's chair again.
"I suppose it can stay here for today," she says, almost affectionate. "As long as it's gone tomorrow."
"It will be, sir," Kate replies, still somewhat shocked at the good humor - the humaneness that Gates has just displayed. She watches the captain walk back into her office, then looks down at the monkey, finds her lips curling up.
Oh, she wishes Castle had seen that.
Their chaperone is clearly magic.
Beckett checks her phone again, but still nothing. She grabs her jacket from the back of her chair and nods to Ryan.
"Let's roll, boys."
The guys drive their own unit, and Beckett takes hers, the passenger seat beside her rather empty; the air in the car almost echoing with the silence.
A burst of static from the radio, a call from the crime scene for the forensic team's van, and Beckett finds herself pulling up to the site ahead of the boys. When she gets out, she checks her phone - still nothing - and slides it into her pocket.
Guess he's not showing up. It's happened before.
"Hey girl," Lanie says. She has just arrived as well, apparently, and walks with her inside the apartment building with her kit in hand.
"Hey, Lanie. Know what we got?"
"GSW to the chest is what I hear. Where's your boy?"
"Meetings. Lunch with Alexis. Don't know what after that."
They get IDs checked at the elevator; the officer sends them up to the fifth floor. She and Lanie part at the entrance to the apartment - Lanie heading straight back for the body while Beckett takes a moment to get a summary report from the responding officers.
Ryan and Espo join her soon after, and she sends them to canvas neighbors, then checks her phone after finishing up her notes.
Nothing. Still.
It's so much harder than he expected.
He wants to run right back to the precinct, but he won't. He won't.
Alexis waves good-bye to him, leaves him on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. He's itching to go back to the precinct, especially after that last text informing him of the new case. He really really wants to go back. Really.
But it's not part of the plan.
He does text her now to say he just finished a long visit with Alexis and he's going home to write since his lunch went so late. He walks because it takes more time that way, and the pedestrians are thick in this area, so it's even longer, and he wastes-
Yeah, okay, he's truly pathetic now. If he-
No, no. He has a plan.
Really. It's a good plan. There's a point to it. And then he can cross one more thing off the list, and they'll be that much closer to the one he's really looking forward to, the one he wants so badly he can practically taste it-
Make it last.
Number fifty.
When he gets to the loft, he heads to the study and pulls out his laptop, settles in for some more Nikki Heat. He's gotten an idea for the next book, if there is a next book (they're still working on that contract), and he wants to get it down before he loses it.
He starts typing, bare bones of the idea stretching out on the page, but his mind keeps going back to the 12th, back to her, back to the list. He saves his document after a few pages, pulls up the Richard Castle website.
He hasn't posted the newly crossed out list to the website yet; he likes knowing that it's just between them for a while. Just their thing.
The list is in his desk drawer, right at the top. He pulls it out, brushes his fingers over the last line. The purple Sharpie above it looks bright, cheerful against the page, makes him grin to see it. He should get a different color - green, maybe - for the next few. Make it colorful.
A rainbow of things that he and Kate will do together.
It feels really good, getting these things accomplished, even if a little creatively.
But this one? Driving him seriously crazy. He wants to cut it short, go right back to the precinct and-
Maybe it doesn't have to be all day, right? Yeah.
Dinner. He can surprise her with dinner. That works.
Besides. He left his monkey there. And he didn't even name it. Serious oversight.
Castle grins to himself and checks the time. Dinner at five is respectable enough. He'll head in to the precinct in an hour.
His first idea is to pick up Chinese from that place she likes (last time she ate half his mango chicken on top of her own Szechuan pork, kept giving him these looks from under her eyelashes so he wouldn't get mad), but when he reaches the restaurant, he finds himself hesitating at the door.
Might not be the best idea.
If he brings her dinner at the precinct, she and the guys will share all the details of their freshly-made murder board with him, rope him in - he'll need to find the solution, the key to the mystery, and he will never leave.
Which would ruin all his careful efforts to stay away from the precinct. No good.
No, he's going to stride into the bullpen, confident, purposeful, and he's going to take her to dinner. Out. With him.
And if she says no - when she says no, because come on, this is Kate Beckett and she's just been given a new murder to solve - he will keep pushing until she changes her mind. He won't budge until she comes.
An hour, only an hour; it's all he's asking for. He will let her get back to the precinct, work all night and run herself ragged, if she likes, as long as she comes to dinner with him.
Just an hour, Kate.
She's standing at the board, marker in hand, when she picks up on his presence.
She doesn't know it's him at first; it's just this disturbance on the spectrum of her awareness, warning her that someone new has stepped into her space. But her body must be faster than her brain, must react to his scent in the air, or the pattern of his footsteps, because when she turns her eyes, she already knows.
Her lips curl up and her chest loosens, flooded with sudden warmth; she can't help any of it. How she feels around him.
"Hey," Kate says, stupidly taken as she watches him lean against her desk, her heart so very pleased with the way he fits there. Belongs.
Her partner.
He picks up the monkey, fiddles with it.
"I was starting to wonder if you'd be back," she adds, arching her eyebrow but keeping her voice light so he won't take her seriously, won't realize how much she's missed him. "Missed the crime scene."
"I did," he answers, and he sounds entirely too nonchalant, unconcerned, when she knows he loves crime scenes. Hell, last week he even got up at four when she called about that double murder with the paint and the brushes-
Man, she can't keep her train of thought when he looks at her like that. Eyes so blue, much too tender.
"I'm not here for the case," he says, tilting his head, smiling at her, soft and intimate. Like they share a secret. Some girly part of her wants to giggle at the thought.
"You're not?" she answers, making a considerable effort to remain coherent. She's suddenly very aware of Ryan and Esposito's prying eyes; they know all there is to know, really, but she feels protective of this thing with Castle, like a bird with its newborn babies, or a gardener with a rare, fragile flower.
One that needs constant care and attention.
"Let's go to the break room," she suggests, moving already; but he stops her with a hand on her wrist, monkey forgotten in the chair.
"I'm just here to ask if you want to get dinner, Kate."
Get dinner.
She glances back at the board, looking for help.
"Castle, I'm in the middle of a case-"
"And I'll let you get back to it. In an hour. When you're fed and relaxed. Did you even get lunch?" he asks, an eyebrow arched at her like he knows the answer.
And damn him, he does. She presses her lips together, averts her eyes, taking her chance to give her team a threatening look that makes them pretend to be busy again.
Her heart wants her to say yes. Her stomach wants her to say yes. And before her brain can find a valid objection, Castle's grabbed the monkey that's been keeping her company all day, and he holds it in front of him, directs both his and the animal's idiotic grins at her.
"Monkey wants you to."
She bites her bottom lip, but she's too late; the smile is out already.
Oh, she really wants this, doesn't she? Castle teasing and tender and trying to pry her away from her job, all to easily.
"Okay, Castle. You win. Get my coat."
She smirks a little at the surprised joy on his face, the way his shoulders relax, his whole body open to her. Didn't expect her to give in so fast, did he?
There's something so satisfying about catching Castle unawares. Probably because she knows how his writer's brain works, knows the million possibilities that spread out before him, and surprising him means - means that he didn't even envision it.
Mmm. She loves that.
She needs to do it more often, she thinks idly, enjoying the way his warm, solid fingers move over her neck as he straightens the collar of her jacket.
And just for that, she takes his hand, looking at him intently as she laces their fingers together.
Yes. There it is again. The childlike awe, the overflowing happiness.
"Let's go, Castle," she says, and she tugs on his arm, the pound of her heart deafening in her ears.
He just takes her out for Chinese, their usual, but they actually dine in rather than get it to go. She watches him from the corner of her eyes, not sure what he's doing. Castle is usually rather blatant in his intentions, but this is almost subtle.
Almost.
He's a little too careful for subtle.
She shifts her foot closer, but he adjusts, keeps talking like she didn't just have her heel touching his calf. Hmm. What's up Castle?
After dinner, he hands her out of her chair with a light touch, then lets her go to help her slide her coat up her arms. A brush of his fingers through her hair, pulling it out from under her collar, and then he gives her a little nod of his head, starting her forward.
It only takes a few steps for her to realize he's not touching her, that there's a careful six inches or so between them. He's not crowding her, not even close, and that's confusing. Not the usual Castle modus operandi.
Hmm. She's not sure she likes this.
Back out on the sidewalk, he shoves his hands in his pockets, gives her a tight smile. A cheerful thing, but still restrained. "Walk you back?"
She furrows her brow. "You're not - staying?"
"No. I have a deadline."
Oh.
"So. Walk you back?"
"I can make it on my own," she says, but she doesn't want to say it. She wants him to take her hand and nudge her hip with his, tease her, try to convince her to go home early.
"Okay. Well. Good."
Good?
She reaches out on impulse and squeezes his fingers, tangling hers with his, trying not to let it get to her. The distance.
"Night, Kate," he says with that gentle and happy smile. "Good luck with the case."
"Yeah. You - you too."
He gives her a blank look.
She lifts an eyebrow. "Your deadline?"
He gives a half-hearted shrug. "Not really up to me."
"Oh?"
Castle shakes his head. "Nothing. Here, let me get you a cab-"
"No," she says. "It's only a few blocks. The walk will clear my head."
He nods again, his fingers squeeze around hers as well and then let go. She watches him turn and head down the sidewalk towards his loft.
Strange. He's not pulling away, not distancing himself; he's just making himself scarce.
Maybe it really is just work - the writing. Maybe this is how it goes with him, maybe he gets so involved in writing that he can't come back to earth.
She sighs, shoves her hands in her pockets, and heads back for her open case and the rally monkey they left sitting in his chair at the precinct. Which still goes unnamed.
Castle taps his fingers on the sheet of notebook paper, smooths it over his thigh. He really did try to write more of the Nikki chapter - he did - but it just didn't come.
He keeps debating the wisdom of his plan. Her face as he left her on the sidewalk-
Oh, that was a mistake, wasn't it? Backing off right now is probably the least smart thing he could do. But he's making a point, and it's for the list, and it is something they're doing together even if she doesn't know she's doing it.
And he bought a green Sharpie at the Walgreens on the corner for just this one, make it happier when they do get a chance to cross it off. Yeah. Maybe he'll surprise her tomorrow morning, bring the list with him to the precinct when he brings her coffee.
This is agony. This is a terrible idea.
He should-
The knock at the door startles him so badly that he drops the list and the marker both. He scrambles to pick them both up, trips over the end of the couch as he darts for the door.
When he opens it, Kate is standing there, looking far more hesitant than he likes but also rather determined. She's got the stupid monkey with her.
"Kate," he says, breathing out his relief, his eyes traveling to that rally monkey. Chaperone monkey.
She shrugs in her jacket as if she's uncomfortable, jerks her head towards the living room. "Can I come in?"
"Of course. Course. Yes." He opens the door wider and watches her walk inside, a smile breaking across his face. She's here. Of her own free will. After all day of-
"What the hell is going on, Castle?"
He stumbles to a halt, the door closing as he falls back against it. He stares at her; she's clutching the rally monkey to her stomach.
"I don't get it. And instead of going home miserable, this - this sense of free-floating anxiety haunting me for the rest of the night, I'm just gonna come right out and say it. You've been acting weird all day. And I don't understand."
Oh. Kate.
His heart clenches and he holds up the list, the green marker, tries to figure out a way to explain. "I was working on the list."
"By yourself?" she says, her forehead crinkling, eyes locked on his.
"No. No, it needs you too. Number 9."
She shakes her head but comes closer, holding her hand out for the list. He swaps with her, list for the monkey, watches her skim the lines until she hits it.
She lifts confused eyes to his. "What does-?"
"I gave you space. With lots of exclamation marks."
Her mouth drops open, a laugh tumbles out.
"I did good? I mean, it was a lot of space, and it was kind of killing me. But I figured a whole day of space was worth the capital letters too. And see? I did need you for that."
She huffs at him but snatches the green marker out of his hand, uncaps it with her teeth, then presses the list against his chest and marks through number nine.
He watches the fire in her eyes, watches her lean back and recap the marker, wipe it off on her pants leg. She hands them both back and takes the monkey from him in return.
"Hey, you can't have that," he says, grabbing one of the monkey's unnaturally long arms. Albino arms, since it's a white, Yankees rally monkey. "That's my chaperone; I own it now. You gotta mark that one off the list too."
She rolls her eyes and takes the list back, the pen, goes through that whole routine. He likes to watch her mouth around the cap, the way her lips flare back from the plastic. It shouldn't be that sexy, but it is.
He does have a thing for office supplies. Maybe it's a writer thing - the array of markers, the smell of paper, the virgin pads of post-it notes. And watching Kate Beckett have her dirty way with that green Sharpie is entirely too delicious.
She shoves the monkey into his hands as well. "There. Numbers nine and twenty-four both crossed out. We're going fast."
He grins. "We are. Closer and closer to the end."
She gives him a little look, but he knows that she knows what he means just by the way her eyes regard him. A lot of breathless, scary want in her eyes. She's almost drowning in it; it floods him as well.
Castle shuffles closer, but she steps back. "What happened to space, Castle?"
He sighs. "It's over?"
"Oh yeah?"
He nods enthusiastically, reaches for her elbows, tossing the monkey over her shoulder towards the couch. It slides off. He doesn't care.
She comes closer, settles into the cove of his embrace, slides her arms around him as well. "I don't like space."
"Oh?"
"It's not any fun. And coming from you, it's confusing."
"No more space then." He curls his arm up her back, lets his fingers slide beneath her hair to her neck. She feels warm. "I didn't like it either. It was unnatural."
"I'm sure," she murmurs, her lips at his cheek and hovering there. Tantalizing.
He turns his head and catches her mouth with his, soft, exploratory, and then he caresses her neck with the tips of his fingers as he keeps their kiss light.
She pushes into him a little, getting closer, her hand at the back of his head, the other fisted in his shirt, mouth wet and tender on his. When she breaks from him to catch her breath, she does so by leaning her forehead against his chin. He can feel her shake as she gulps for air.
Awesome. The experiment worked. She doesn't want space from him either.
"That monkey is watching me," he mutters.
She laughs - his goal - and lifts her head to look at him. "Did its job then." Her eyes soften. "I should go."
He slides his hands down her arms. "Or you could stay a little longer. Watch television with me?"
"Is that what the cool kids are calling it these days?"
He laughs at that, a surprised bark that makes her beam back at him, all proud and glorious. Castle shakes his head. "No. I mean just curl up on the couch with me and my new monkey."
She smirks at him, lips pressed together in her disapproving-but-secretly-approving-because-you're-so-cute smile. "You and the monkey both?"
He nods, wicked things coming to mind. "It is a baseball rally monkey. He's just trying to help me score."
Her mouth drops open at that one, her eyes startling wide, but she laughs again, shaking her head at him. "That is - that is terrible."
"No home run then? I'd settle for a triple."
"Third base? Really?"
He hedges. "Second?"
But she's smirking at him again, turning away, her eyes all come hither, and he follows her to his couch, sinks down beside her. He gets distracted for a moment, tries to settle the monkey on his lap, at his side, somewhere-
"Keep your eye on the ball, Castle, or you'll never get a hit."
And then, of course, he doesn't take his eyes off her. No matter what's on television.
Or how creepy that monkey is.
9. SPACE! ! ! !
24. Own a monkey.