I wanted to move the story on a little bit more from here. But Castle just would not LET me. And who am I to say no to Mr. C?
It's slower than the others. But I don't know... I like it. We'll see what you have to say, shall we?
Closing the front door carefully and quietly, I ponder the wonderfully strange night I've just had at Beckett's.
She confused me utterly, but I had a fantastic time.
Most of all the time I spend with Beckett is fantastic. That much should be obvious by now. I wouldn't have written a best-selling novel with her as the main character if she wasn't fantastic, or at the very least somewhat, completely, interesting to me.
I do remember reading a quote by Jane Austen. She remarked that she didn't think her book Emma was going to be very popular, mainly because she didn't think that anybody besides herself would actually enjoy the character. I can definitely understand that feeling, not in relation to Beckett though. I think everyone who comes into contact with her thinks she's wonderful. My mother and Alexis were won over by the first meeting, and even though they usually like to tease me about my infatuations… this time they didn't.
I think that says a lot about Beckett as a person. They respected her. They liked her. They approved. Even if nobody, at the time, realized how far along my infatuation with her would go. They gave the go ahead. She got the proverbial green light. Before, even, I would realize that there was more to Beckett than a beautiful face, great body, witty mind, and a sultry undertone (the perfect mix for a great main character).
I do enjoy spending time with Beckett. Even when she's annoyed at me, even when she's yelling at me, when she's not talking to me, when she's being pestered by me, teasing me, I enjoy every minute of my time with Beckett. The only time I don't enjoy Beckett is when I'm not spending time with her… I don't particularly want to go through that again. A weekend is about as long apart as I'm willing to entertain at the moment. Even that's a bit of stretch. AND we're not even dating yet!
I'd call myself whipped even though I know I'm not.
Getting any of the perks, that is.
So, I obviously love spending time with Beckett. I wouldn't have waived away my legal rights, if I didn't find her interesting and wonderful. I think everyone was well aware of my baser intentions right from the start. Except maybe Beckett; she probably thought I was out to pester and annoy.
But I enjoy being with her, I enjoy the mystery, the murder, the flirting. But this was new.
This evening was new, different, and wonderful.
She relaxed with me.
I've seen her upset, angry, hurt, mischievous, a little jealous, outraged, indignant, annoyed, sultry, Russian and deliberate. But I don't think she's ever truly been relaxed around me.
I think I had thought she was relaxed in my presence before. But I now realize I was wrong. I don't truly think she has ever been totally relaxed around me before.
Oh, she's seemed relaxed. She's seemed in absolute ease with her apparent lack of control. But I don't think she has ever truly been relaxed in my presence.
I've been trying ever since I met her to get to know the real Detective Beckett. The real woman beneath those clothes… and not in the slightly sexual way that thought sounded.
I want to know everything about Beckett.
About Kate.
I certainly got a peek into Beckett tonight.
Again not with the sexual connotations that thought had either.
She actually and completely relaxed with me there, tonight.
She fell asleep for goodness' sake.
With her feet in my lap.
I so dearly wanted to move that part of our relationship forward. And if Beckett had been any other woman, I would have tried to as well. But since it was Beckett, and I'm trying not to rush things, I didn't. And she fell asleep.
She trusted me enough to fall asleep
She trusted me enough to fall asleep with me (Richard Castle) in the same room.
She trusted me enough to fall asleep (in the same room) basically 'on' me!
Of course, I don't think she meant to fall asleep.
Certainly not on the sofa, pinning me beneath her feet. But she just seemed so relaxed, and she certainly seemed tired too. So I had no objections to being used as a foot cushion. It gave me a wonderful image to look at too.
A sleeping, relaxed Beckett. Dim lights, empty food bowls, empty wine glasses, a completed board game strewn across the coffee table. It was the perfect ending to a date. Not that this night was a date, but I could certainly write a date night like one of those in my books, only with sex. A lot more sex.
But life is rarely like my books. I don't get to control the characters, or what they say or do. I certainly have no control over Beckett. She surprises me more and more often. I'm grateful for that. For her.
I will cherish the memory of putting her to bed for the rest of my life.
No matter what happens.
She's a tall woman, I never deny that. But she's surprisingly light. Not light like Alexis is, but she's in no way heavy. I carried her easily.
And I won't deny that it was an ego boost for me, and perhaps even a foreshadowing of our future? Wishful thinking, but perhaps…
At any rate, I got a peek, legitimately, into Beckett's bedroom. Not that I could look around a whole lot, because I didn't turn the light on. I didn't want to wake her up anymore than I already had by moving her. I would have expected a cop, like Beckett, to be more worried about someone moving her around her own house. But I also am not disappointed she let me carry her. I'll probably never get as close to her, physically, again in a while. I need to take my doses of Beckett when I can.
I realize that this makes me sound slightly creepy, and probably even somewhat addicted. In a way I suppose I am. I can't even conceive of what my life would look like (be like) with her in it. Truthfully, I don't want to even imagine it either. I like Beckett in my life, and I'll take her any way I can get her.
This is about the time I realize I'm still staring at my closed front door. From the inside of my apartment.
"Is this a new strange version of the after midnight tiptoe celebration?" An amused voice asks.
"Mother." I sigh. So much for me coming home under the cover of darkness.
"Or regret?" She adds.
"Mother…" The stress in my tone tells her that I do not want to get into this debate right now.
"Darling, both Alexis and I are well aware that you are by no means celibate. There is no need to skulk into the house when you think we are both asleep." I turn and find she's drinking wine in the kitchen. She's in her robe, fluttering about like Madame Butterfly. She must have been over visiting Alexis, and decided to wait up for me.
"I'm not skulking into the house." I reply, slightly indignant at the thought, "and you're not even supposed to be here. You supposed be at Chet's." You would think that living in another home with your 'boyfriend' would mean less time spent at your son's abode. But no, not with my mother.
She makes a dismissive sound at my clumsy attempt to distract her, "Richard, there is no need to hide from your family."
"Mother, I'm not hiding." I move away from the door at this point and walk towards the kitchen. I might as well face my accuser.
"I was at Beckett's."
Her entire demeanor changes; a huge grin graces her face, "That's fantastic! I'm so relieved. I thought I was going to have to throw you two together myself."
I laugh (it's forced), "No, Mother. Nothing like that."
"Oh." Once again her entire demeanor changes; I swear sometimes that woman is trying to live a vicarious second life through me. Isn't her first life already filled with enough excitement?
"I don't understand the two of you. Not one bit. What were you doing then?"
"Playing chess."
"Chess?" Her years of theatrical expertise serving her well, her slight disbelief, yet unknowable knowledge that I am, in fact, telling the truth about my evening foreshadowed by merely her tone of voice and a slight eyebrow lift.
"Chess." I concur.
"Oh." There doesn't seem to be much to say after that point. At least I hope there isn't any more. I don't really want to get into the lack of Beckett/me romantic liaisons at the moment. I really should start thinking Kate/me romantic liaisons. I do want there to be a Kate and me future. I really do. But I know I need to be patient. Of course, I'm going to push her occasionally, see how close to that precipice she is… but I definitely don't want to push her too close or so fast that she freaks out and I lose ground. That would be worse.
Thankfully, Mother seems to know that I'm not in the mood for any more talk. It must be obvious that there something more important going on in my head tonight. She's always been well aware that sometimes I need to reflect, and sometimes I need to babble incoherently to another person to get my epiphany.
We both retire for the rest of the night, what's left of it.
You gotta love the Martha!
Anybody who doesn't, drop me a line and let me know why... It'll intrigue me if nothing else!
Arc. Remember flame away if you so desire. ;P