3wp: Kate supervises Haunt

— ANONYMOUS

#310


She hadn't meant to come. Castle was taking 'a break' from the Twelfth to finish Nikki Heat (oh hell, why did it have to sound like that in her head?), and she knew that heading to the bar after a successful but grueling case just wasn't a good idea.

But here she was anyway, just inside the Old Haunt, house keys in her hand like she belonged here and not at home.

A crowd of people came in just behind her and she had to make up her mind, found herself being pushed to one side to allow them in. She wound up standing before the narrow dark booths, the wall of the famous staring down at her.

"Beckett."

She turned her head, astonishment so great that for a moment she was speechless.

Castle got up from the booth, gave his laptop one quick check as if to be sure the words were still there - or perhaps that the document was saved - and then he came forward with a look on his face equal parts pleasure and wariness.

"You come to roust me?" he said, moving in like he was going to kiss her cheek or perhaps embrace her. And then he abruptly paused, tragically comical, and instead tucked his hands into his jean pockets. "Something happen at the Twelfth?"

"Oh. No," she finally replied, shaking her head. "Closed the case. Got him. Just." She shrugged, casting a long look around the bar at the crush of people. "Pretty crowded tonight." A glance back at him. "Not too noisy for writing?"

"Usually dead in the afternoon," he explained, looking to the bar himself. "Hey, you want something? A scotch or something fruity or hey, I know, pomegranate martini - you're a vodka-"

"Castle." She swallowed the irritation. "A beer. Something dark."

He nodded and moved past her for the bar, and behind it, owner's access, she supposed, and Beckett finally turned back to the nest he'd made of his booth.

She sat opposite his laptop, pushed her body against the wall, far as it would go. Needing the pressure it gave, or maybe the darkness, the seclusion.

Castle came back with two beers, flipped the top off hers with his thumb as he set it before her. She blinked in surprise, but realized he'd already cracked them both open back at the bar, left the tops on as he carried them over. Of course. She knew that.

He settled across from her, his own cap disappearing in the massive maw of his hand. He took a swig, regarding her, but oddly silent.

"I guess I thought you might be here," she said finally. Admitting it.

He grinned but caught himself, like he was trying to hide it. Ever since the swings, he hid. Hid the pleasure, hid the frustration too. Sometimes she didn't know if what she thought she remembered was how it had really happened.

But not today. Not with him sitting so close to her that his knee kept bumping hers under the table. Not with the sneaking smile that kept creasing the corners of his eyes.

She let out a long breath, tapped the lid of his laptop with the neck of her beer. "You work, Castle."

He tilted his head. "What are you gonna do?"

She could tell he was about to make some clever joke about staring being creepy. But that was a little too predictable for the good feeling in her chest after that smile. "What am I gonna do?" She paused, smiled back at him. "Supervise."

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