Seeking Clarity
Chapter Seven - Head Above Water
Note: This chapter takes place after Pandora/Linchpin, so we have a little bit of a time jump.
In the murky darkness, she can't be sure her eyes are even open.
She twists and a silver lion makes her breath catch. There were no lions in the river. Nothing at all that she saw. What's going on here?
Blinking again clears the distortion in her vision, the visual memory of water obscuring everything, and she focuses on the lion again. It's just the huge photo opposite the bed. Just a picture. Nothing to worry about, other than how disconcerting it is to wake up to that.
Panic still licks at the edges of her consciousness, but it fades with each ragged breath she sucks into her lungs.
Drowning. She was dreaming about drowning. Again.
It's the fourth time in as many days. The fourth time since Castle breathed life back into her – literally this time – and she woke up staring into his frantic eyes on a deserted dock, waterlogged but thankfully alive. She remembers gripping his back tightly as the air rushed into her lungs.
As much as she enjoys clutching Castle as he hovers over her, that moment is a memory she's more than willing to do without. They've tried their hardest since then to replace the memory with something much, much better.
Speaking of Castle, she has no idea where he is. It's almost – ugh, a glance at her phone tells her it's almost 3 AM – and his pillow is cold, despite still bearing the imprint of his head. Apparently, he can't sleep either. What a pair they make.
Well, they'll be a sleepless pair together. She's fine with that. She's fine with sitting on the couch until they both pass out and wake up later with stiff necks. She'd rather have to pop two aspirin with her coffee in the morning than spend the remaining hours of the night thinking about the gun that woman put to her partner's head. She'll take a sleep deprivation headache over a night of seeing Castle drown with a bullet in his head in her dreams.
She throws the covers off, biting back a hiss at the cool air. They changed the blankets together the other night, piling on something warmer (something Sophia Turner's bony ass hadn't touched) before they collapsed. A couple of times it's been too hot under the thick quilt with both of them pressed together, but for the most part it's been nice having the security.
Of course, it also makes the loft feel colder when she has to get up to pee or attempt to find him in the middle of the night.
She doesn't call for him before she starts looking. It's too late, or too early, depending on who she asks. Alexis should be leaving for her shift with Lanie soon, but she still doesn't want to make too much noise. She's just grateful she's wearing her own, reasonably modest PJs tonight, so if she has to venture out into the kitchen she won't surprise the girl the way she did the first night she stayed over. She'd been wearing Castle's discarded dress shirt and slipped out of his room for water while he slept, only to find his daughter up studying. Alexis had taken it in stride, of course, but it was awkward nonetheless.
That was actually the night Alexis asked about working at the morgue and she'd promised to get her connected with Lanie. She really had thought her partner would be okay with it, but that plan backfired handily. Of course, combining the already uncomfortable situation with the petty, jealous, awful things she said to Castle didn't help. She hopes she's at least started to make up for the things she said in the morgue, and show his daughter (and the man himself) that, while it wasn't her finest moment, she does think the world of her partner.
Thankfully, she only has to venture into Castle's office to find him. No ducking into the main area of the loft this time.
"Hey," she calls softly, trying to avoid startling him. She pushes her hair behind her ear on her way to stand beside him. "Writing?"
Her hand brushes the warm line of his shoulder before moving to cup his neck.
"Mhmm, sorry, did I wake you?"
She squeezes his neck gently, stroking the baby soft curve of his earlobe. "Nightmare," she explains, keeping her voice low. Her lips press against his temple. "You, too?"
His hands abandon the keyboard to guide her to join him in his chair. As soon as she's settled, his hand creeps under her top, finding its almost-regular spot against the small of her back. Her lips find his chin before her head settles against his shoulder. He's tense, but he always is – as far as her limited knowledge suggests – when he's had an idea take hold. It doesn't mean he woke up worried one or both of them hadn't made it the way she did.
"Yeah," he confirms in the quiet. Damn, there goes that idea.
Without a word, she lifts a hand to massage his neck and shoulders gently. His Adam's apple bobs under her lips when she kisses his throat. Touch helps.
"You wanna talk about it?" It's the same thing he always asks her when she wakes up with wild, panicked eyes. After the other day she's started asking him, too.
"About the book? Spoilers, Beckett."
"Cute, Castle. Which dream was it?"
She takes a slow kiss from him, fortifying them both to talk about it. Her hand trails up his neck and along the line of his jaw, her fingers attempting to draw calmness to the surface and banish the tension.
"Same as the other night," he admits finally.
Right. The dream where Sophia was the one pulling the trigger on her in the cemetery. He'd woken her in a panic, hovering over her, half sobbing her name into her chest over the scar. She'd gone to work the next day still shaking from the intensity of their lovemaking. Tonight the dream inspired him to write.
Humming, she presses closer. "Still here, Castle. Still here." Her hand finds his, pressing his palm over her chest. He relaxes at her heartbeat, steady and strong under his hand.
She kisses him gently, cradling his chin between her fingertips. He's scruffy again and she relishes in it. He almost always shaves as soon as he wakes up.
"Writing helped?"
He nods, thumbing the small of her back in slow, gentle circles. "It helped."
"Want to write more? I can leave you alone."
"No, no, I'm done for tonight," he pauses. "You had a nightmare, Kate."
She nods, pecking his lips again. She feels better just being here. He helps. "I'm okay now. Come to bed? Or we can watch TV? No water movies, though."
"Waterworld sucked," he mutters, resting his forehead against her temple.
Her lips lift. He's tired, she's tired; they really shouldn't stay up.
"One episode, something light?" she suggests anyway. "Maybe that stupid reality show you watch?"
"It's not stupid, Kate. It's –"
"Trashy? Contrived?" She grins, sinking against him even more as he shifts his grip on her back, sliding his other hand down her front to curl around her bare knee.
"Just for that, I think we're watching two episodes." With that, he heaves himself out of the chair, lifting her with him. She smothers her squawk in his shoulder; surprise makes her forget to demand that he put her down. She can only manage to shake her head when they collapse into one of plush leather chairs that face the TV. It's a squishy fit, but it's nice on nights like this. Maybe she'll eventually convince him to get a small couch in here to replace the arm chairs, so they can have other movie nights in here with Alexis.
"You'll hurt for that in the morning," she warns, rubbing his neck once they're settled. Castle's unapologetic grin warms her anyway.
It's still relatively new, but so far this relationship has been easier than she expected. They still clash and argue at work, they knock elbows and bump knees in bed, but at the end of the day, they do this, too. They laugh and kiss, and his hands, mouth, and body work to drive her insane, only for her to turn the tables on him and do the same. They make dinners together, swapping playful barbs as they prep their meal. They spend time with his family, and she hopes her dad's schedule will clear up enough for them to spend time with him soon, too. She wants her dad to know Castle in a way that doesn't remind them of funerals, or the hospital, or recovery.
Sophia's words from the other day are still in her head, but she knows better than to listen to them. At the time they had hurt, they had made her think, made her wonder if this could really work when there's still so much about each other they don't know. She's still dealing with things, and Castle clearly still has some of his own skeletons to work through, and things probably will get rough at some point in the future. (Rougher, even, than the last few days.) But now she knows for sure that the words were lies, designed carefully to spark that doubt to keep her off balance and put distance between them. She won't let that happen. The chase was good, fun, just as Sophia described, but this is going to be better.
Castle shakes his head. "I'll be okay, Kate. And for your earlier snark, Miss I Record Temptation Lane on Two DVRs, we are definitely watching at least two episodes. Maybe more."
"You remember at least one of us has to go to work tomorrow? Sometime before noon?" Her brow arches. Of course, her boyfriend ignores her hint, brushing his mouth across hers and gallantly draping a blanket around them. So chivalrous.
She exhales, slumping into him and resting her cheek against his warm shoulder. He draws her legs higher across his lap, squirming until they're both comfortable.
"We'll still go to work, we'll just make stronger coffee."
"Mhmm, you'll make me multiple coffees."
"Don't I always?"
She smiles, using the closeness as an excuse to breathe him in. For a day, she'd sworn everything smelled and tasted like the river. He smells like him once again, which makes her feel better.
Smelling him instead of river water means they're here. It means the last few days are another ordeal survived. Another near death moment and major catastrophe averted. They really need to stop having so many of those.
"Do I smell?" he asks, tilting his head into hers. "I can change if I got too sweaty earlier."
"No, you smell good. Now start the show, I'm waiting."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm picking the right episode."
Her fingers slip underneath his shirt, nails scratching lightly at his belly. He grunts in response, his hips shifting under her legs, but it's not enough to entice him to turn off the TV and come back to bed. She promised him light, but she can recite stand-up comedy while they get naked if he wants to do things that way.
"Pick faster."
"Yes, dear."
She nips at his shoulder in retaliation. "Do not 'yes, dear,' me, Castle."
"Yes… love muffin."
"Blegh. Not if you want me to keep sitting here." She's smiling though, so he knows it's an idle threat. She's only been back at her place alone a few times in the last few weeks. Even then it's only been for a night or so.
He snickers, taking it upon himself to come up with half a dozen ridiculous nicknames for her, each one more terrible and over the top than the last, before he finishes choosing their episode. He finally shuts up when she lifts and presses an open-mouthed kiss on his lips.
Her tongue darts over his lower lip. "Stop talking, babe."
He lights up at that and it takes a moment before she realizes exactly what her overtired, smartass brain just let slip from her mouth. She's given him so much ammunition now. It's too early for pet names, way, way too early, but somehow one silly four letter word has made him look at her like she's given him the sun. They're just four letters, not even the four she's waiting to say. Apparently, they're a good enough substitute.
"Start it already," she husks, settling her hand on his belly.
Indirectly or not, he knows how she feels, or he should know. But if calling him babe helps make it clearer, then that's what she'll do.
"Uh uh, honeybun, you can't take that back. That's a keeper."
"Fine, keep it. Start your show." She waits until his finger is hovering over the button to say it again, "babe."
He shivers and she knows his glee is making it hard for him to start the show. Her nails gently stroking his belly probably don't help matters, but the combination has done wonders for the hurt, haunted look in his eyes.
She hates this show, but she knows it'll help him banish the rest of the shadows. For that reason, she'll watch with him.
She comes to sometime later, feeling the rumble of Castle's chest under her ear. He's talking? Who's he talking to? She yawns, patting his belly to remind him not to get too loud. She's sleeping. His chest bounces under her head in response. Great, he's laughing at her. She murmurs when his fingers come up, cupping her ear affectionately. She would say he has a fascination with her ear, but she knows she does it to him, too.
"See you later, pumpkin. We'll go to bed soon. After this episode."
Somehow, she musters enough energy to lift her head. Alexis is standing by the chair, dressed in her scrubs. She's looking down at them, her face simultaneously amused and concerned.
"Have a good shift, Alexis." She smiles tiredly at the young woman, earning a small smile in return.
"You, too. Don't let Dad get away with another episode."
"I won't. We're sleeping after this is over." If Alexis is going to work, they've already blown through their one or two episodes anyway.
Alexis nods. "Good. See you both later."
"See you," they echo together. She hides another yawn in his shirt.
"It's late, Castle. S'go to bed. We can finish this in the morning if you want."
"Really?"
"Mmm, yeah. Work's just paperwork until we get a call. Don't have to be in too early." Her hand flexes against his belly as she makes herself comfortable again.
"Kay, we'll sleep then," he agrees quietly, kissing her forehead. "I can sleep now."
"Good." She brushes her fingers over his ear tenderly. "Let's go then."
When they settle into bed, his hold is still a little tighter than usual, but she decides not to call him on it. It's relaxing. It'll help her sleep, too. Even underneath the heavy blanket, he's the one who helps her sleep.
They'll get through this, she knows. They'll get through the nightmares and whatever hurt feelings and uncertainty might remain. And they'll come out stronger for it.
"Shit."
She sighs, rubbing her hand over her face, probably smearing whatever's left of the day's makeup in hideous streaks. It's par for the course after the day she's had, though.
She's going to be late. First Gates wanted to debrief about their case – micromanage her progress or lack thereof is more like it – keeping her in her office long after she was supposed to clock out. Then she'd practically run to her appointment with Burke, only to find out he, too, was behind schedule. He'd been called in for an emergency consult with the 27th, but because she'd been with Gates and hadn't answered her phone, she also hadn't checked her voicemail until she was sitting in his office waiting.
It was a good session, though. At least she thinks it was. Burke is pleased with her progress. He's pleased with the way her relationship with Castle has evolved – the openness between them, he keeps adding every time she stammers a protest over talking about her sex life. They have a healthy sex life, thank you, and a healthy relationship, in spite of the issues she's still working through.
But now she's late for her date. Or she will be if this damn subway doesn't start moving soon. Castle's taking her out for dinner and dancing, and she has yet to shower, yet to do her hair, yet to take care of anything else; really she's done nothing. And she'll continue to do nothing if this bucket doesn't move. They closed the doors ten minutes ago and haven't gone anywhere since.
She has pretty underwear she wants to surprise him with, and she won't be able to keep it secret if he's crowding into her bedroom to watch her get dressed.
To top it off, there's no signal down here to tell him she's not going to make their rendezvous time. He won't mind, of course, but she does. They barely get the chance to relax together outside of the bedroom and stealing moments late at night, and she's been looking forward to tonight. He's had a few events lately and he's wanted her to come with him, but she's been working and he's had to go solo instead. She just wanted this night to go smoothly to make up for all of that. No murders, no exes, no panic attacks brought on by sleeplessness and an overload of caffeine like last week. Just them. Two people enjoying what Castle's promised will be a damn romantic evening together.
Her text must finally go through, because his response comes in as soon as the car starts to move. He's ready (of course he is; he left at 3:30 to finalize their plans) but he'll hold off on coming to her apartment for another half an hour. Of course with all the delays, he's still waiting for her when she does finally make it to her place. She runs in like a mad woman, but he seems content to read one of her novels on her couch.
"Hey," he greets, lowering the book onto his knee. "I let myself in, obviously. I wasn't sure how long ago you'd sent the text, so I took a gamble."
"Obviously," she echoes, dropping her keys onto the hall table, raking a hand through her hair. "Sorry," she sighs, though she's not really sure exactly why she's apologizing. She couldn't help this day.
Castle doesn't seem to know why she's apologizing either, because he cocks his head, smiling calmly. "Don't worry about it, Kate. We're okay." Good, he knows she wasn't snapping at him.
She smiles faintly, coming over to kiss him. The gentle press of his lips centers her; it helps to shake off the trials of the day. Whatever tightness that remained after her long day and her session with Burke is gone, replaced with powerful thuds of affection for the man who spends his days and his nights at her side.
"Mhmm, hi. I'm going to change and do something with my hair. How're we doing for time?"
"We're okay. Take your time. I already called and they're holding the table."
She feels her lips lift. "Thank you. I'll be quick."
He nods, thumbs brushing her hips. "Need a hand?"
"Nah uh. Hands and eyes to yourself for now. Stay put."
"Staying put."
She grins over her shoulder, wiggling her eyebrows quickly. He grins in return.
"Good choice."
The restaurant may be holding the table for them, but she doesn't dally. She moves as quickly as she can without cutting herself shaving in the sink, knocking her knees on the doorframes, or screwing up her makeup. Miraculously, she's even ready in under half an hour. She doesn't look half bad, if she's allowed to pat herself on the back for that.
If Castle's expression when she emerges from her bedroom is to be believed, he approves as well.
"I… wow. Kate."
"You like?" She twirls, giving him a little extra to observe. There's nothing exceedingly sexy about the dress. No plunging necklines or slinky, curve-hugging skirts. The neckline is relatively simple; it dips slightly and a decorative twist keeps her scar hidden. Castle may spend absurd amounts of time worshiping it, as if his mouth can wipe away the trauma, but she still isn't comfortable showing the world just yet. The skirt is perfect for dancing; simple, flowing, modest (but not too modest, her goal was both classy and sexy). Castle's reaction tells her she's hit the mark.
"I-yes, yes I like. I like quite a bit."
His hands twitch at his sides, an indicator of his eagerness to touch her.
"Worth the wait?" She finds herself worrying her lip between her teeth, probably wrecking the lipstick she so carefully applied just a few minutes ago. Without meaning to get deep, she knows she's asking about more than him waiting for her to prep for their date.
Castle realizes the complexity of her question, too, because mere seconds pass before his hands are on her waist, dragging her close enough for their lips to connect. It's almost embarrassing how quickly the contact makes her knees go weak. It's all in the slow swipe of his tongue against hers, in the way he takes his time exploring every curve of her lips, every ridge of her teeth. She grips his arms, steadying herself as he ravages her mouth, clearly happy to show her how worth the wait it – she – really is.
She's panting when he pulls away, releasing his claim on her mouth with a pop. His eyes are glassy and she's willing to bet hers match. His thumbs brush her sides in tandem with their ragged breathing, earning a shiver.
"Always, Kate," he rasps, sending another roll of pleasure down to her toes. "Always worth it."
She surges against him, kissing him harder than before. Words may stay in her throat, but this she can do. She can pour her love and her gratitude into a kiss.
Their foreheads touch when their lips part. Sometimes this closeness is overwhelming; sometimes she can't help but need to shut her eyes to be able to process it all. They're here. They're doing this.
"Thank you," she breathes lamely, in case it really does need to be said. She thumbs his biceps through his shirt.
Castle shakes his head, hauling her into his embrace one more time. "Let's go dancing. I think we've earned that."
"Me, too," she murmurs, pulling away only to come back for another kiss. He's probably wearing more of her lipstick than she is, but she simply swipes at his lips to smooth away most of the color and lets it go. Lipstick isn't usually her thing anyway. "Let's go."
She gives him the satisfaction of locking the door behind them. His key isn't shiny or new – he's had it since before her panic attacks began to taper off – but he takes great pleasure in using it every time.
He looks proud, if not a little dazed, when she hooks her arm through his and asks if he's driving. Surprisingly, he shakes his head. "Walking, Beckett. We're not going far for dinner, or dancing."
Resting her cheek on his shoulder, she smiles. "Perfect."
He knows sometimes it's not the best idea to walk, not after difficult cases, but tonight she's too excited to let anything get in the way of strolling with him. This is probably her first chance to show him off, albeit to an unsuspecting world, but she's showing him off nonetheless. They aren't hiding, per say, but they're also not renting a marquee in Times Square and announcing anything to the world either. They don't walk into the precinct each morning holding hands, but she wouldn't scramble to get away from him if they were to run into Gates in a block or two. She hopes she wouldn't anyway.
"Thanks for tonight, Castle."
He doesn't respond, but she knows he's happy. There's a bounce in his step that only gets more pronounced the longer they walk. Her excitement grows, too, as what she's sure has to be their destination grows closer. The place used to be a dive, a spot on the sidewalk she often actively avoided thanks to her self-preservation instincts, but she'd noticed renovations start a few months ago and celebrated when it began to take shape into something attractive. She'd mentioned it to Castle one night over dinner. Apparently he hadn't just remembered her talking about it, he'd even checked it out. And now he's taking her there. Oh, she loves him.
She's glad her heels put her at nearly his height, because she's able to kiss his cheek without breaking their stride.
"Have you been already?"
"Of course not. But I went in when I picked up dinner the other night, just to check it out. You're gonna love it."
She squeezes his arm, feeling the words she thought just moments ago spring onto the tip of her tongue. She wants to say them. There's no real, tangible reason to hold them back, but she still can't. Not yet. The superstitious side of her just won't let her yet.
"You scoped it out for me."
Castle just grins, holding the door for her. "See for yourself."
She steps in, reaching back for his hand immediately even as she scans the room. She loves it. She can't even put her finger on why. There's something striking about the entire place, from the music to the decorations – oh those curtains are to die for – without it being overdone or cheesy. Yeah, she loves it.
"You like?" he asks, echoing her words from earlier. Castle's lips trail over her ear, sending shivers down her arms. Her light shawl is no match for the feel of his mouth on her.
"I love," she breathes, twisting to kiss him slowly, firmly. "This is amazing, Castle. I love it. It's gorgeous in here."
She sniffs, hoping to ID the food style without having to ask. She recognizes some scents, but not all.
"Fusion," he explains. "The menu's eclectic, but it seemed like a good fit."
She inhales again, letting spices and joy infuse her lungs. "It's perfect."
It is a perfect fit. It feels like this place was designed to speak to her and entice her into breathing deeply and releasing any tension and worry she feels.
And Castle, Castle's looking at her like his every hope is coming true.
Her eyes narrow. He's set this up somehow. There's no way this place was like this before he got his hands on it. He has to have had a hand in it. Décor that speaks to her? Everything she likes?
"I didn't do anything," he says softly, somehow reading her mind as he lifts her knuckles to his mouth. "It was like this when I came in to check it out. I thought it was perfect, too."
Searching his face for signs that he's messing with her comes up empty. She knows he'd do it for her, but he also wouldn't lie to her about not having a hand in it. "It's fantastic, Castle. I just can't believe it's so… me? Does that make me sound self-absorbed?"
They squeeze each other's fingers quickly.
"Believe me, I wish I'd thought of it. That'd be a hell of a present. But if it's good, I'm investing. Getting us a private table."
She rolls her eyes at that. "The restaurant business is tough, Castle. Be careful."
"It wouldn't be the worst thing I've spent my money on, Beckett."
"Ahh, yes, your moon property," she teases.
"Oh no, that's a solid investment. I was talking about the time I sent Patterson ten thousand rubber ducks to prove a point."
The laughter bubbles out of her before she can stop it. Of course he had. His fingers squeeze hers again.
"He wasn't as amused," he adds.
She leans into him, feeling his shoulders square with pride at her affection. Sweet man. "No, I don't think he really would be. What made you do that anyway? What point were you proving?"
Before he can answer, a fresh-faced young man about Alexis' age approaches them and greets Castle by name. He escorts them to the stairs (where Castle is all too happy to let her go ahead of him, a move she rewards by injecting a little extra sway to her hips as she climbs) and to their table in a comfortably lit corner of the restaurant. It overlooks a small stage and dance floor that she supposes will be their after dinner destination. It's perfect; dancing without the crush of sweaty, gross bodies. Probably better music, too.
Castle spots her looking. "They said it gets a little more crowded when the band goes on, but nothing insane. We said relaxing, remember?"
She leans across the table, cupping his jaw with soft palms. "I remember. It's perfect, Castle. I mean it. Thank you."
Their lips brush.
"Is Alexis working tonight?"
"You wait to ask me about my kid until I'm kissing you?" he grumbles good naturedly, leaning in for another easy kiss. It's all she can do not to grin against his mouth. "Yes, yes she's working with Lanie tonight."
"Good. Then I can take you home and not feel bad."
"Take me home?" he gasps. "Detective Beckett, what kind of boy do you take me for?"
Her fingertip traces his ear as she considers her answer. "The kind whose toes I'm going to make curl later."
His eyes darken immediately. "Is that a promise?"
She presses a kiss to that spot on his chin she loves. "Mhmm, it's a guarantee."
She feels him swallow. "And what about your toes? Will they be curling, too? Because I can help you with that. In fact," he adds, before she has the chance to answer, trailing his fingertips along the sensitive skin on the inside of her arm, "I am quite adept at toe-curling. And I insist I demonstrate for you."
"Mmm, I think I can find some use for your skills." She nips at his jaw quickly, straightening as their server approaches with two glasses of water. "Provided you finish your story."
Castle blinks and she's not sure if his confusion is lust-driven or due to her shift in topic. Maybe both.
She accepts her water with a grateful smile, sipping daintily as her partner collects himself enough to request a bottle of the best red they have and a sampler of every appetizer on the menu. When the young woman retreats, Castle looks proud of himself for getting himself together when he probably could've used a few more minutes.
"So? Story, Mr. Castle. I'm all ears," she purrs.
"I bet you are."
She flicks his ear with chilled fingers, grinning affectionately. Stubborn.
"Come on, finish the ducky story."
He opens his mouth, and whether it's to give in to her or stall some more, she's not sure.
"Actually, wait. Let me try."
She scoots forward in her seat when Castle acquiesces. Taking his hand, she turns it over to trace the lines on his palm. He has nice hands. Strong, careful hands.
"You were… fresh off another successful book release, not Derrick Storm just yet, but with it, you were finally earning the poker group's respect. You weren't the new kid anymore." She kisses the center of his palm quickly. "It was also post-divorce, pre-second marriage, so you were a little crazy. You played it faster and looser, hence your police horse escapades around that time." Her eyebrow arches a little, earning her a quick, almost uncomfortable smile in return.
"Alexis was still pretty little at this time and one night you were playing poker with your crew and Patterson challenged you to see how many rubber ducks you could get in one room after a story about watching Sesame Street with her. So you called your guy, because you even have one in a rubber duck factory, and the next day Patterson's hotel room was overrun with them."
She traces his heart line, carefully watching his face. He once profiled her so well she'd lost control of her emotions; she hopes she hasn't gone that far with him, that this isn't a sore subject. Generally, he's flippant about his divorces and his crazy schemes, but she won't continue if he looks like he's hating her game.
"It cost an arm and a leg, but cocky, young –"
"Hey!"
"-er, younger Ricky Castle didn't care. And Patterson even kept a handful of the ducks, giving Alexis a couple the next time he saw her. They're still on the shelf in her bathroom."
"Damn, you're good." He smiles, looking light again.
Her tongue flits out between her teeth. She's happy she hasn't overstepped. "Yeah?"
"Uh huh. Only it wasn't about Sesame Street. We were throwing around murder scene ideas and I suggested said rubber duck factory. Patterson thought it was ridiculous, so cocky, dead sexy, younger Ricky showed him."
She grins. "Damn, so close."
His fingers close around hers as he leans in. "Close enough."
Their noses brush. "Yeah?"
"Uh huh," he puffs against her lips. "So do I get the pleasure of curling your toes tonight? I finished the story like you asked."
Her stomach flutters and she has to reign in the desire to drag him out before their wine even arrives. It's already been a good night, it can only get better.
"So you did." She squeezes his hand, letting their palms kiss even as their lips tease each other. "I'll allow it."
"Oh good. Curled toes for all tonight."
"Well, hopefully not all," she teases. "My room might get a little crowded and I'm not a sharer."
"Just with me?" He pecks carefully, rubbing his nose over hers.
"Mhmm, just with you."
He grins, kissing her fully. "Good, me too."
A/N: Once again, my apologies for a lack of personal replies to the last couple chapters - everyone will be getting them, I promise, they'll just be delayed. As I've said before, I'm absolutely blown away by the response to this story and I'm so glad everyone is enjoying it. Thank you to everyone!
