DISCLAIMER: I do not own anyone going by the name of Castle, Beckett...or Clooney, if we're really doing a wish list, here.
Kate Beckett was fairly certain she was having an epiphany.
She knew she was probably having one because Castle's jaw had dropped and nothing was coming out. Ergo, she must have said something that either beat him at his own game, or was so truly shocking he was rendered incapable of using the power of speech.
"You know, Castle, you're going to catch flies. Or pigeons." She added as the kid next to them threw a breadstick and attracted half the resident flying rats in Central Park.
Castle had persuaded her into coming to watch a mime production in the park. She'd refused, he'd wagered her acceptance in a bet on a perp that she didn't remember participating in and refused to acknowledge. He'd then resorted to bribery, and so for a month's ceasefire on Castle's enquiries as to what her subscriber name on his website was, she considered herself a mostly willing participant in Castle's quest to understand the lives of mimes.
They'd been observing, and then he'd been observing and she'd been staring off into the distance, idly considering their partnership, as well as calculating when, exactly, she could propose lunch without being told she was mimist or not appreciating the plight of the audio challenged or something, when it had hit her.
How to win the battle, and the war.
He wanted to peel the Beckett onion; she'd give him the whole Beckett onion. She'd give him so much he never wanted to know about Detective Kate Beckett that he'd be begging for her to shut up before she was through. She'd give him all of the surface details of her life and none of the deep water stuff he was so determined to fish.
She'd drown him in shallow water, and hopefully he'd cease the campaign to "Find Kate" when he realised she wasn't going to play.
And so Castle's jaw was scraping the ground, at her casual suggestion that she take him to dinner, and tell him about herself.
Castle closed his mouth. Opened it. Closed it.
"Was that a yes, Castle?" She queried, amused.
Okay, doing this is worth it just to see that look on his face.
Castle squinted one eye at her. "Okay, obviously, you've become a Twilight Zone- pod person-clone-identical twin-genetically modified-look-a-like-type...thing, and I'd come up with a better analogy but, obviously, in your capacity as a pod person you've turned my brain to mush." He blinked at her. "Who are you and what have you done with Kate?"
She leant back on the bench and studied the performers.
"Kate? Hello, do you have any idea how concerned I am for your state of mind right now?"
He waved a hand in front of her, and she swatted him. "What, I'm not allowed to tell you things?"
"Yeah, of course you are." Castle gestured to the mimes. "But generally you give those guys a run for their money. Except, of course, if one desires a lecture on how to behave at crime scenes." He mimicked her, making her sound like a hung over Mary Poppins.
She glared at him. "I do not sound like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm auditioning for a Judi Dench movie."
He waved this away. "But, still, you take my point. And are you sure you're not related to that one- he looks very familiar."He pointed to the performers.
She looked, and saw a mime imitating an arrest.
"Oh. Yeah. It's Great Uncle Albert. You wanna do this or not, Castle? Last chance."
"Yes." He said quickly, nodding for emphasis. "But can you leave Uncle Albert at home?" He winced mock apologetically at her. "He kind of freaks me out."
"Alright." She turned her attention back to the performance, wondering why she suddenly felt like she'd invited a wolf into her house of straw.
She supposed it was inevitable, that she'd retaliate eventually. Something inside her kept her pushing back, when he pushed.
And that was just the thing- much as she'd become a mime herself before she admitted it to Castle- she liked the game they played, the tug of war where no one won but they both pulled and pushed at each other, anyway. She liked pushing back, never quite knowing what she'd have to field in return. Because somehow she'd become included in the circle of people he cared for- so it was safe for her to push.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
He was idly sipping his coffee, watching the performers, and grinning his wolf's grin.
Mostly. She corrected herself. It's mostly safe to push.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Dun dun dun. Stay tuned for Some Very Interesting Dinner Conversation. Thank you, everyone who is reading and reviewing. You Rock. A Whole Lot.