A/N: Thank you so much for all of your reviews and thoughtful messages. Your support and enthusiasm is what keeps a story going and keeps me smiling.
"Run away with me tonight
Let the moon bathe us in its light
Come on I'll take you to paradise, to paradise"
- Lily & Madeleine, 'Paradise'
Chapter 9 – For Sale By Owner
They look utterly ridiculous.
Somehow, despite an overflowing closet to rival any professional fashionista, Kate has ended up wearing a plaid shirt that practically matches Castle's. Okay, so maybe the colors are different, but the idea is exactly the same. And her jeans might as well have been plunged into the same vat of indigo dye as his too because when their long legs hit the sidewalk in perfect union, she could swear that the color is identical, even under the unforgiving microscope of early morning sunlight.
So, yes, they look ridiculous already, a mere handful of hours into this new coupledom of theirs. And yet she can't stop smiling.
Their outfits match and her body is aching in places she didn't know she had places, and they've decided to keep this new status of theirs from their friends and colleagues for now, though they have a threadbare chance of maintaining that pretence because they're dressed like a couple from a Ralph Lauren spread and she can't find the gumption to care because she's in love with him. So ridiculously, head-over-heels, stars in her eyes, laugh out loud in love with him.
But for now, try they will.
Of course all of this is before you get to the love-struck, slightly delirious, flushed looks on their faces. They have 'we just had mind-blowing sex and we still can't believe it ourselves' written all over them. Their eyes are shining glassily and their hands brush the higher the elevator rises, no matter that they're pressed into the small, metal box along with two burly uniforms who're both standing behind them being far too quiet for Kate's liking.
"We're going to be terrible at this part," groans Castle, as they exit the elevator, trying to force their bodies to walk further apart, while being endlessly drawn back towards one another like iron filings to a magnet.
"Well, well, would you look at mom and dad," mutters Ryan, kicking the underside of Esposito's desk to get his attention.
The metal feet of the cheap, NYPD-issue furniture scrape against the wooden floor and Esposito's head jerks to attention. "What?"
"Remember when we dropped them off last night? Castle didn't even say goodbye to Beckett."
"So? What's your point, Oprah?"
"So…just look at them now," hisses Ryan through gritted teeth. "Do they look like they've been fighting to you?"
Esposito narrows his eyes, flicking his gaze from his boss to the writer and back again, trying to establish the difference his partner is claiming to see. They round the corner out into the open area of the bullpen, finally materializing from behind the screening veil of the metal grill and…
Bingo!
Beckett is smiling and Castle looks like a man who just got seriously laid.
"Now you mention it, bro, another word beginning with the letter 'f' kinda springs to mind," concedes Esposito, reaching over to fist-bump his partner.
The detectives lean back in their chairs, arms crossed, lounging lazily as they watch Castle and Beckett get closer, both cops looking primed for mischief.
"Nice coordination," remarks Ryan, pointing to Castle's shirt. "Did you call her up or—?"
"Or is this the latest upgrade to that creepy sentence finishing software you guys have embedded in your necks?" jokes Esposito.
"Funny," mutters Castle, taking his jacket off and throwing it over the back of his chair, fully exposing his dark green plaid shirt to the bullpen. It's only slightly wrinkled he told himself when he put it on this morning, after a night spent lying badly folded on Kate's bedroom chair.
Kate wisely keeps her navy blazer on for now as she stands with her arms crossed, frowning at her desk.
Her chair is missing. No, scratch that. Her chair has been moved, rolled round behind Castle's old chair for some reason.
This has prank written all over it, and she's not sure who or what yet, but she'll find out soon enough and make them pay.
She circles her own desk, eyeing the boys warily, and then she reaches for her chair, planning on wheeling it back to its proper position with as little fuss a possible. But when she tugs on it, the wheels won't move.
Someone titters. A clanking sound draws her attention down below the seat to the foot of the chair. Somehow, some wiseass has managed to cuff her chair to Castle's using two pairs of handcuffs linked together.
Kate stands with her hands on her hips surveying the two chairs, tapping her foot on the floor, while Castle stands off to one side with the knuckles of his balled fist pressed into his mouth to stop himself from laughing presumably.
"You think this is funny?" she asks him, turning her fake-annoyance on Castle to throw the boys off the scent.
"I—" Castle shrugs, biting his lip, making a show of looking terrified and chastened, while the boys smirk at him and pull faces behind Kate's back.
"Break room. Now!" she orders, pushing Castle ahead of her into the mercifully empty kitchen.
She shuts the blinds rather violently, fighting back a snigger when she sees Esposito and Ryan flinch in unison when she finally prevents them from being able to peer at them through the break room window.
When she turns round, Castle is lounging back against the counter watching her, coffee machine already working hard to output two shots of espresso for their coffees.
She sashays towards him, a naughty look on her face, and when she reaches him she plants her hands either side of his torso on the edge of the counter, trapping him against it with her own body.
"How you holding up so far?" she asks, rubbing her thumb back and forth over his elbow.
"Hopeless. You?"
Kate bursts out laughing and shakes her head, tipping even closer towards him. "Not much better. Castle, they cuffed our chairs together. Did you see that?"
He darts a glance over Kate's shoulder at the closed break room door and then he risks touching her, because there is nothing he wants to do more right now than feel her lithe body under his hands.
"I saw. Put you in the mood?" he asks with a mischievous quirk of his eyebrow, fingers lightly kneading the soft flesh of her hips.
"For using my cuffs…on you?" chuckles Kate, her voice reduced to an intimate whisper.
"Uh…on me?" chokes Castle, laughing with her. "What made you assume I'd be the one we cuffed?"
Kate tugs on his shirt collar and then smooths her hand down over his chest, a naughty smile playing at her lips as she watches him turn to putty in her hands. "Well, they kind of are…my cuffs, Castle, so…" she shrugs and turns away for a second before immediately pivoting back towards him.
"And just for the record, was that a bona fide objection to a little light bondage, Rick? Should I add that to my list of new things I'm learning about you now that we're…you know," she smirks, tugging suggestively on the front of his belt.
"You mean now we're sleeping together?" replies Castle, staring her down, in no way prepared to let this newly sexualized Kate Beckett use her feminine wiles to get round him. Well, not much.
He's also intent on repeating the fact that they are sleeping together as often as he can get away with because she is gorgeous, sexy, fun, very enthusiastic in bed, and with a body like hers…well, he couldn't really ask for more. And that's before you get to the single most amazing fact of all – that she's in love with him, just as much as he is in love with her in fact. He has to keep pinching himself to believe that last night and this morning actually happened. He's spent so long fantasizing about being with her and now that they are actually together, yep, he's going to keep reminding her that they are sleeping together every chance she'll permit him.
"You like saying that, don't you?" grins Kate, leaning on him to reach for a paper napkin on the counter behind his shoulder.
Castle's eyes widen when her body fully connects with his all along the length of it, every hard muscular line and soft feminine curve. Is she trying to kill him already?
"I'm hoping you like doing that!" he blurts, reveling in the weight of her leggy body pressing his back into the counter's edge.
He pouts when she stands up straight again, sensibly putting some space between them in case someone walks in.
"Sorry, doesn't exactly constitute 'keeping a respectable distance'," she apologizes, following up on the brief 'decency in the workplace' chat she gave him this morning on their ride into work.
The fact that she had just laid him out on the floor of her shower half an hour before, eventually flipping them so that he was lying on top of her going for Olympic Gold in aquatics or whatever, while the steamy, hot water pounded into both of them, kind of ruined her argument a little. But he is so not complaining. No sir. No ma'am. No way.
"And for the record, Detective," he murmurs, hands now busily engaged in making their coffees, while Kate lounges on the counter beside him, "I am good with the light bondage you describe, whomever, whenever or wherever you wish."
He glances at her sideways and his heart contracts at the look on her face: the gentle but excited smile and the gleam of pure happiness in her eyes.
"God, you look amazing," he whispers reverently, depositing her cup down heavily on the work surface to turn towards her again. His heart is suddenly hammering, the thrum of his own blood whooshing loudly in his ears. "I…I just—"
He shakes his head, bites his lip and forces himself to turn back to what he was doing.
"Kate, I'm sorry," he murmurs, getting his emotions back in check. "I promise I'll get better at this. I—"
Kate gently touches his wrist and leans in close. "Hey? Don't try too hard, okay?" she tells him softly, giving him a sympathetic smile. "You'll make me look bad."
She's just backing off when there's a sharp knock on the door. It swing opens immediately without waiting for any response.
"Sir," exclaims Kate, instinctively taking another step away from her partner, even though they are already standing several feet apart.
"Good morning, Detective. Mister Castle!" nods Gates, speaking particularly formally when she addresses the writer.
"Everything okay?" asks Kate, making a preemptive strike to take control of the conversation.
Gates studies Kate for a second and then switches her attention to the writer. "I was just about to ask you the same thing," she says enigmatically.
"Sir?" questions Kate, unsure what Gates is driving at, her own guilt bleeding through into her voice nonetheless.
Gates attention snaps back to Kate mercifully, since Castle is in the process of trying to shrink in size so as not to fall under suspicion, though he's failing miserably to make himself any more inconspicuous given the too-happy smile he's currently sporting.
"No ill effects after yesterday's little escapade?" their Captain asks, studying Kate closely as she awaits a reply.
Kate shakes her head. "Nope. You?" she turns to ask Castle.
The writer shakes his head too, wisely keeping his mouth shut.
"No. All's well here, Sir. Nothing a good night's sleep in our own bed…I—I mean beds, couldn't cure," adds Kate, inwardly cringing at her slip-up.
Gates narrows her eyes at Kate once more, darting them away with lizard-like speed in an attempt to catch Castle out. But the writer has turned away to finish steaming milk for their coffee and so lets himself off the hook. Gates is unable to see the smile he's trying to get under control as he plunges the tip of the steam wand into a metal jug of cold milk.
"Good," she purrs stiffly, giving the room another suspicious sweep before heading for the door. "Make sure you give Ryan and Esposito your statements. Oh, and don't forget the new rule about calling in your location before you go wandering off anywhere," she adds disapprovingly.
Kate sags back against the high table in the center of the room the second Gates is safely out of earshot.
Castle chuckles quietly as he spoons creamy foam on top of Kate's cappuccino. "Our own bed?"
Kate rolls her eyes and shakes her head, a helpless smile on her face. "I didn't claim to be any good at this. I just told you what I thought we needed to do to keep it under wraps."
"Keep what under wraps?" comes Ryan's voice from somewhere behind them. Esposito is peering over his shoulder as they both loiter in the break room doorway.
"Oh, for God's sake. Don't you people know how to knock?" demands Kate.
Swiping her coffee off the countertop, she makes for the door, pushing out of the room by shouldering her way between the two gawking detectives.
"Yo! Castle? What's got Beckett so steamed?" asks Esposito, thumbing over his shoulder at their seemingly furious boss.
Castle keeps his back to them as he takes his time finishing up his own coffee to buy himself a little breathing space.
"You moved her chair, guys," he improvises, tutting slowly for effect and shaking his head. "You know how attached she is to her chair."
The boys look skeptical when he turns round with his own coffee cradled in his hand. They stand shoulder to shoulder, attempting to bar his exit. "She's really that upset about a little prank?"
Castle shrugs. "You heard her. Seems that way."
"So, you guys sort yourselves out?" asks Esposito, clearly on some kind of a fishing expedition.
"What do you mean?" Castle asks suspiciously, wishing they would just move aside so that he could get back out there to sit by Kate's side and stare in awe at the wondrous beauty who is now all his.
He can see her over the heads of the boys, watching him warily from over by her desk, obviously wondering what they're questioning him about.
"Well, you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife when we dropped you home last night, bro."
"I think you're imagining things."
"Beckett looked like she hated your guts, Castle," points out Ryan.
"And now she clearly…doesn't," adds Esposito, fingering Castle's lapel.
Kate appears behind the two nosey detectives, so quietly that they don't hear her approach. Ryan practically levitates when she barks, "Castle, a word," right by the Irish cop's ear.
"Sorry, guys," shrugs Castle, maneuvering between the men with a look meant to telegraph his own fear and trepidation at being called on by his partner.
He meets Kate over by her desk, his face brightening into a goofy grin as soon as he's sure the guys can't see him. "Hey. What's up?" he asks softly, so that only Kate can hear him.
"Nothing. Just thought you might need a little help getting away from Tango and Cash over there."
Castle wiggles his eyebrows. "What kind of help did you have in mind?"
Kate's face flushes and her eyes are sparkling when she leans in to reply, just as a crafty idea occurs to her. "Actually, I'm kind of running low on pens."
"Pens?" repeats Castle, with a knowing glint in his eye.
"Yeah, pens and notepads and maybe paperclips too."
"Sounds kinda…heavy. You need a little help carrying all of that?"
Kate bites her lip to stop herself from laughing. "I could use an extra hand, yes," she tells him with a meaningful lift of her eyebrow, the one he finds so incredibly sexy, the one that has a naughty, suggestive life all of its own.
"Supply closet?"
"Five minutes."
They're just about to go their separate ways when Gates pokes her head out of her office door.
"Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle, a word if you please?"
Kate's shoulders slump.
"Jeez, what did we do now?" grumbles Castle, setting down his untouched coffee to follow Kate into the Captain's office.
They line up side-by-side in front of Gates' desk, keeping a good couple of feet of space between them to avoid further temptation.
"It seems your endeavors to help end the trafficking in endangered species, however accidental and foolhardy they may have been," she adds, granting Castle the recognition for this part, judging by the pointed stare she gives him, "have reached the ears of the Mayor's office. His honor sits on the board of the Wildlife Preservation Society would you believe, and so he has decided that he would like to make a little political capital out of the whole…fiasco."
Kate is about to protest when Gates holds up her hand. "I know what you're going to say, Detective. The workings of that man's mind are as much a mystery to me as…" She scouts about for a suitable simile, finding an easy one in the resident writer-come-civilian investigator standing before her. "As much a mystery to me as the workings of Mr. Castle's mind."
"Glad to be of service," pipes up Castle, before he actually computes the insult-disguised-as-compliment Gates has just paid him.
He frowns at his shoes while Kate stifles a giggle beside him.
"What do we have to do, Sir?"
"Press conference at Gracie Manson in an hour and a half. Do not be late."
"Yes, Sir."
"Oh, and Detective, you might want to—" She puckers her face in displeasure as she waves her hand between the Detective and the writer. "Go change. Look a little more NYPD and a little less…Nashville," she adds, witheringly. "Cameras will be there. Do not make me regret agreeing to this."
"Of course, Sir," bites out Kate, quickly turning away before Gates can add any further insults to the pile she just managed to dole out in the space of a couple of minutes.
She pushes Castle out of the Captain's office ahead of her, her fingers itching to touch so much more than the center of his back when she feels the heat of his skin radiating through his flannel shirt and the jump of his muscles under her hand.
They head straight back to her desk to collect their coats and belongings.
"Where do you think you're going?" asks Esposito, spinning around in his chair to look at Castle, who's currently buttoning up his coat.
"Press conference with the Mayor," replies Castle, with a certain smug satisfaction.
"Play nice while we're gone, boys," teases Kate, throwing her colleagues a wink, before sweeping back out of the bullpen with Castle in tow less than half an hour after they arrived.
They giggle their way down in the elevator, eager hands reaching for each other the second the doors close.
"God, this is killing me," growls Castle, before sliding one hand beneath Kate's hair to cradle her head, the other one finding the pert curve of her ass and squeezing a handful of plump flesh. "You smell amazing."
Kate moans loudly when Castle kisses her so fiercely that her pulse rate skyrockets, the torrent of sensations suddenly flooding her body making her dizzy, forcing her to cling onto him just to stay upright.
They finally pull apart a mere few seconds before the elevator settles on the ground floor, delivering its own heavy dose of gravity to add to their lightheadedness.
"Here…wait. You have a little eh—" murmurs Kate shyly, reaching up to gently wipe a smudge of lipstick from the side of her partner's mouth with the tip of her finger.
Castle looks at the floor, trying to center himself again before they have to go out in public, equally as affected by Kate as she is by him.
Kate reaches for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze of reassurance. "Tomorrow morning," she says, glancing up at him with such openness and hope in her eyes.
"Yeah?" asks Castle, his voice lifting, mirroring her look of hope.
"Want to make it three for three?" she suggests with a tentative grin.
"You mean waking up together?" asks Castle, an eager smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Kate nods. "We have to go home and change now anyway. I could pack a bag," she offers, trying to act cool, like she isn't inviting herself over to sleep at her partner's place because she can't bear the thought of spending another night apart from him.
"You'd do that?" asks Castle, amazed she isn't asking for space or putting a break on things to slow them down.
"Unless you think it's too much too soon? I mean with Alexis and your mom and everything. Maybe you want to—"
"Beckett, I swear if you say one word about slowing this down after everything we've been through to get here."
Kate grins, so relieved. "Good." Then she shakes her head. "Because I don't want to slow anything down. I'm in this, Castle. I love you."
The elevator bell suddenly dings, announcing their final arrival at their destination, and they both turn to face front.
"Let's pack a suitcase," blurts Castle, chuckling when Kate bends double, laughing exuberantly at his enthusiasm.
"Suitcase it is then," she agrees, scuffing her toe on the floor as the elevator doors slide open.
"You won't regret any of this," murmurs Castle, surreptitiously tangling his fingers with hers as the roar of the precinct's public entranceway rushes in to meet them.
"I don't intend to. This is it for me. One and done," she tells him over the noise, giving the stunned looking writer a gentle nudge.
"So…shall we go see the Mayor?" suggests Kate, while they both stand frozen to the spot with the elevator doors about to close on them again.
"Sure, why not," shrugs Castle, since he'd basically follow this woman anywhere she asked him to go.
He's Kate Beckett's one and done. You only get this lucky once in a lifetime and he doesn't intend to waste it.
They walk out into the street together, arms brushing, shoulders and hips bumping happily because they're fighting a losing battle trying to stay apart. The sun streams down from between the clouds, bathing them in a spotlight of warmth that seems fated as they walk towards Kate's car, and for once Richard Castle can't help but feel truly blessed.
Kate unlocks the doors, and then she pauses to regard Castle across the roof of her Charger. She gives him a thoughtful look, her head tipped to one side as if she suddenly remembered something. "You know, Castle, I'm pretty sure I heard someone say that your friend, The Mayor, has the power to hitch people."
Castle's eyes widen and his jaw drops open just a fraction as Kate continues with a mischievous look on her face.
"Not that we would ever consider using that word with any permanent, romantic, life-changing colloquial connotation or meaning," Kate quickly adds.
She taps the roof of the car a couple of times with the tips of her fingers, her expression still somewhere between thoughtful and prankster, and then she ducks her head as she slides inside, suddenly disappearing from view.
It takes a blast of the siren to break the awe-stuck writer out of his daze.
Maybe he will admit to using the word hitched after all. Since he's coming round to liking every meaning, reference, association, suggestion, undertone, overtone, nuance, subtext, synonym, derivation, inference and implication that those seven little letters can hold.
Not unlike another seven letter word beginning with 'm' he could think of, a word he never thought he'd want attached to his name ever again…until, that is, he met Katherine Houghton Beckett.
The End.
Hope you enjoyed that post-ep for 'Cuffed'. Love to hear your thoughts. Liv
