Kate Beckett jumped. Her phone's crisp chirp broke her focus, startled her back to reality. She rolled over on the couch, reaching for it, almost falling to the floor.
"Beckett," her voice was clipped and business-like. She had received far too few work calls this week. They'd had no new bodies and no leads on cold cases, despite the countless hours they had spent revising statements and reports for some missed detail that would lead to progress. Of course, they had all grown frustrated by the end of the week.
Esposito and Ryan (although they would never admit it to her face) had been worried, she could tell. At the beginning of the week she had been ruthlessly revising cases where leads had fallen short, just short. But by the end of the week she was relentless with cases where there had been no evidence, no witness statements, not even an identity for the victim. She was burying herself in them, desperate. Why she was so desperate escaped her. They needed a new case, she knew. Castle had been observing the spiral, allowing it at first, but then he had pushed her to ease back only to find himself banished from the precinct, she'd call when a body dropped. That had been Wednesday afternoon, by Friday lunch she had exhausted herself and was on her couch reading by three, looking for an escape.
"Guess what?" the familiar smooth voice teased.
His voice made her sit up, her book, his book, slid off her lap, her place lost. "What Castle?" she forced herself to sound slightly irritated, but really she was a tad shocked and a little embarrassed. She was curious why he was calling her on a Friday night, surely he had some party to attend.
"Esposito called, told me that you had left early and might want some company…" he trailed off, suggestively. A soft chuckle escaped her before she could stop it, why she wasn't sure. "Well… Espo didn't say you might need company," he rushed to repair the damage, she isn't sure which, "he just said not to expect a call about a drop and told me… how the rest of the week was." He changed what he was saying half-way through, she could tell.
She chuckled. He's not someone who struggled with words, apparently with her he did. "Uh Castle?" she questioned.
"Yeah?" his response was immediate, too quick for normal conversation. Clearly he was fumbling for words more than she had thought.
"Why'd you call Castle?" she maintained her mildly annoyed demeanour, but she's smiling, intrigued.
"I just… um…" He was silent a moment, she heard him move through the phone, soft rustling of fabric. He has always fidgeted when he's thinking, considering the right words. She had seen him on the phone with Alexis enough to observe this trait. She heard a thump,
"Castle what was that?" she questioned. She heard it again, a dull thump. Then her door rattled on its hinges, half a knock, "Castle, there's someone at the door. Make it quick, I've got to go." She hoped she wasn't too dismissive, but he had been stalling too much.
She rose from the couch, half rolling off, landed on her feet with a practiced ease. She headed toward the door and unconsciously put her free hand through her hair, attempting to remove evidence of the hours she'd spent on her couch.
"I, uh..." he panicked. "Don't be angry," the words were spoken with such a speed that she doesn't fully register.
At the same time, she grabbed the doorhandle, didn't turn it listening. It was silent. Maybe it was just a neighbour, passing by. Although the cop in her is on edge, only a few months ago someone had shot her so she checks the peephole. Castle.
She rolled her eyes and sighs heavily, pulling the door open abruptly. "Really Castle…" She crossed her arms, shifted her weight and stared him down. She shouldn't have be surprised, but she was caught off-guard.
He gulped, forced himself not to squirm. "Detective Beckett I was just passing through and thought-"
"Seriously Castle?" She didn't flinch, guarding her doorway from this sudden intrusion.
"Yeah, okay busted," he put his hands up in surrender before he continued, "I was checking up on you."
"You could have just called…" She retorted.
"I did call," he said stupidly earning himself another glare so he hedged onward."I just thought that after…" he winced, the perfect description escaping him, "the week you've had that you could do with some company. We can cook something-" his voice spun a story and painted a picture, but when she raised a brow he changed direction, "we can order in or go out somewhere nice." He waggled his eyebrows, trying to charm her.
It worked. She stopped glaring and gave a shy smile, but didn't move her body, which was blocking the entrance to her apartment.
He cleared his throat, rubbed his hands together then shrugged a little. Prompting her, it was her turn to make a move.
She shook her head and rolled her eyes but stepped back – opening the door wide and gestured with her arm in an exaggerated fashion for him to step inside.
"Thank you," he said softly as he stepped across the threshold with a dramatic flare. He looked around, checking to see how much had changed since his last visit. A rare opportunity to check on her. Everything is in order, like always. Although he did notice how the harsh late-afternoon glare was softened in her apartment by her curtains, it was metaphoric.
When she turned to face him after shutting the door again, she found his back to her. She passed him, moving toward the kitchen. If they were going to order they would have to make it soon, before it gets busy.
His breath caught in his throat as she passed him. The gentle sway of her body was hypnotic. The roll of her shoulders and the way her hips kicked slightly with each step was startlingly obvious despite her baggy sweater and jeans. He could watch her all day, he gawked involuntarily. He cannot help it, but she would kill him if she caught him. He cared and slowly he was showing just how much. He was tearing down her walls, brick by brick.
He followed her like a puppy, exploring as he goes but remained hesitant and tentative in her space. He was opening cupboards, examining her fridge. If she had noticed she was ignoring him, too preoccupied in her search for take-out menus to dismiss his eagerness.
He cleared his throat to get her attention. She was too preoccupied with the draw which apparently had swallowed the take-out menus. "Kate?" he softly tried again.
"Yeah Castle," she ignored his use of her first name, not looking up.
"Are you not going to look?" he was teasing.
She stopped, finally looking at him but not standing to do so. "How did… Where did you find all of that?" she was amazed. How had he found all of that food in her kitchen? Packet of pasta, a jar sauce, a block of cheese shewas sure will be mouldy (she hadn't eaten cheese from a block for too long), a chunk of mince and a few vegies. Not the most nutritious assortment, but it is more than she realised was in her kitchen.
"We can cook or we can order. Your choice," he says smugly, his arms causally folded across his chest as he leans against the counter.
She stared at the ingredients he had laid out, then back to the draw she had dishevelled in her search. "Pasta it is," she rolled her eyes and straightened the contents of the draw. Making a mental note to find the safe place she had moved those menus, she'll need them soon enough.
He was clattering through her draws and cupboards before she could even stand-up to take charge. But he had found everything he needed so she tugged the saucepan from his hands and fills it with water.
Wordlessly they prepare the food. He cut up onion while she thawed the mince. She kept noticing how they are so attuned they found their rhythm instantly, how they didn't bump into one another despite both trying to work within her small kitchen.
"Where did you find all this?" she asked, breaking the silence now that they were waiting for the meat to cook and the pasta to soften.
He didn't take his eyes from the pan as he shuffled the mince across the heat. "I um… brought a couple of things with me," his confession was quick, rushed.
Her eyes widened and she lashed out her hand, slapped him on the arm as she scolded, "Castle! Are you serious?" He shocked her by turning up, he had damn near floored her with this revelation.
He rubbed his arm pain and threw her a wounded look while he pouts.
"Oh don't be a baby." She rolls her eyes as she criticises him, then drops her gaze to the pan. "Why did you bring stuff with you?" her question was so soft he barely heard it, it was so unlike her to be unsure of herself.
He dropped the act immediately and became serious. "I wanted to… do something nice for you. Something meaningful." He held his breath, prayed he hadn't crossed the line. He did know he was pushing it, but he also knew if they didn't push it now they never would.
She peaked up at him from beneath the hair which had fallen into her face, covered her eyes. "Thanks Castle," her voice so soft it was barely a whisper.
They remained silent until the pasta was soft, the meat was brown, the sauce stirred through. Both quite pleased with their simple dinner. "Did you want something to drink?" her voice broke their silence as he dished heaped portions onto plates she laid on the counter.
"Yeah," he responded, only met her gaze for the slightest moment. When she didn't move beside him, he figures she is waiting on a specific response. "Whatever you're having is fine."
Once again she didn't respond, however that time she grabbed something from the fridge and set glasses on the counter somewhere behind him. When he heard her close the fridge again he picked up both plates and headed toward the kitchen table. He caught sight of her in his periphery, she was headed the other way, toward her couch. He didn't question it, just followed her silently.
She set the glasses on the coffee table and took the plate from him as he arrived, then sat, pulling her knees up toward herself. She settled the plate against her chest with a practised ease used her thighs to hold it still and close. His actions were not as fluid but he did press the edge of the plate against his chest effectively enough that he could watch her as he eats.
When that full feeling had hit her stomach she hadn't eaten half of what Castle piled onto her plate, but she had eaten more than she would have if she were eating alone. After she set her plate on the table and reached for her glass she curled into her couch a little, nestled against the corner turning her body a little to face him, wedged her feet between the couch cushion silently cursed herself for not putting on socks. It was winter in New York, despite the warmth of her apartment she should have known better.
She asked about Alexis, always a safe conversation starter with Castle. They talked animatedly for a while, until both had eaten all they could. Castle having emphasised how full he was before placing his feet onto her coffee table (earning himself a swift kick and threat of serious damage) and both their glasses are empty on the table. "Why do you always insist on feeding me? You bring food here, you order lunch to the precinct, you bring me coffee every time you walk through the door," she rambled once she got started.
He chuckled but doing nothing more than shrug at her in response.
His response frustrated her, so she hedged onwards. "Castle I managed eat enough before you came along to cajole me into eating more." She shifted her head on her elbow, the arm had stiffened from being propped on the back of the couch, her face pressed against the crook.
"Fine. Next time you call me for a body drop at five in the morning I will turn up with my own coffee and nothing for you. I won't suggest we stop for lunch on the way back from interviewing a witness. I won't-"
She cut him off. "Show up on my doorstep with ingredients stuffed in your pockets so you can make me dinner." She raised an eyebrow in challenge, then her face softened and she looked away again, needing a second as she realises something. The last person who showed up on her doorstep to cook her dinner had been Josh. The realisation hits her, Josh had shown up for some milestone of their relationship, she doesn't even remember specifically. But she does remember his intentions with that meal, to prove himself to her, to prove that he was committed to looking after her. It should overwhelm her that Castle would do something so… intimate, but she felt cautious more than anything, she cannot lose her partner, like she had lost everyone else. "Okay maybe I need someone to look out for me, on occasion," her words were a rush, so soft she hoped he didn't catch half of them. She would not be repeating it under any circumstance.
She could feel his gaze on her, intense and studying. It took her a few minutes to look up and meet his gaze. Her hair covering her face as she looks up through it, glimpsing his reaction, giving herself another split second to hide.
What her eyes see couldn't be worse. He is grinning ear to ear, like a fool. He heard her confession, obviously every word, or at least enough. Damn it, she had hoped he wouldn't.
"Whenever you need me, I'll be there… coffee in hand." His pause made his double meaning clear, that he won't leave but letting her discuss food instead of how they feel.
There was a wave of shock which hit her, then a moment of contentment before the wall went up again. He noticed the corners of her mouth turned up in the smallest of grins before she opened her mouth and gave him a smartarse comment he had see coming from a mile away. "Don't forget to bring Lanie her bearclaw. Maybe something special for Esposito and Ryan every so often, they always shoot daggers at you when you neglect them." There was honesty in her voice, but she was leaning toward him slightly as if it was a joke. Making a point of mentioning he shouldn't focus all his energy on her, but saying she acknowledged it.
"I'll buy them a cupcake," he quipped. Then the smile dropped from her face as suddenly as it had appeared. He realised why. Their bodies were much closer than before. She hadn't moved and he hadn't either, but their bodies were closer, drawn together. He was leaning against the couch in a way similar to her – arm bent over the back of it, his body angled toward her but his angle awkward due to his legs stretched out to the leg of the coffee table in front of her. His breath hitched. It was up to her, if she pulled back, even a little he would move way – make an excuse and leave if he had to, he would not push this and lose her.
She regarded him a minute. Her eyes are soft but keenly analysed the lines of his face, the contour of his neck, the width of his shoulders. She didn't move backwards, she remained perfectly still like she was afraid that movement would give him the wrong idea about the entire situation. He gave her a small smile, hoping it didn't look smug, before he hauled himself away "what's on?" he asked as he grabbed the remote from the table in front of him.
When he returned to the couch he was careful to place himself close, but not too close. There was a delicate balance here, a push-and-pull. He has planning the grand finale. But first he had to nudge her so that she was comfortable standing on the edge with him, so that when they finally take that final leap it would work. He was flicking through the channels while he stared blankly at the screen, when she announced "stop!" with enthusiasm he obliged. He didn't bother to look at what it was, just looked back to find her watching it, interested. His plan, when exactly he would put it into motion he doesn't know. But he knew with certainty she would be ready sooner rather than later. He had in the past put it off, the timing had never been right, the circumstances never perfect. It has to be perfect. But lately, she had been letting him in (tonight in a literal sense). He has set the date, organised it. It churns his gut considering it, he is going to show her how important she is. He just hopes she allows him to.
