Title: One Hundred Coffees
Summary: The story of each and every one of those one hundred coffees that Kate owes Rick. Castle/Beckett.
Warnings/Spoilers: Cuffed
Disclaimer: All rights for the characters and the world go to their owners. I, in no way, believe – or would lead others to believe – that I own Castle.

Author's Note: I don't think you guys were huge fans of the last chapter. I wasn't either to be completely honest. I hope you like this one though.

forty-six to fifty

46:

Kate goes with Rick to pick up Alexis and Martha from the airport. They get there early so they stop at a little cafe to get coffee and wait it out. The whole thing's quiet, awkward, like a morning after conversation, only without the sex and with hundreds of strangers all around them. Kate wants the awkwardness to go away. She wants her guilt to go away. So she says she's sorry. He says he's not. She grins at that; neither is she. His smile grows to match hers. He's got this hope on his face that she knows shouldn't be there. It's that hope they've tried to bury for so long. She brought it back. She – ugh. Kate adds, "But I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm not – we're not –" what does she say? She's been telling herself for months that she's ready. Has she been lying the whole time? Gosh, how long is this going to take? She doesn't want to spend the rest of her life without knowing what it's like to be his, to love him and be loved openly in return. But today isn't the rest of her life. It's another day that looks a hell of a lot like every one she's had for the past three years.

"Hey," he says as his hand finds hers. He places his on top, grounding her to the now and not every day that comes after. "Don't worry about it. What happens at the Christmas party decorating party, stays at the Christmas party decorating party." He offers this endearing, pleading, lop-sided smile.

It makes this worse. She wants to say that nothing between them is ever that simple. That this wasn't an act of Christmas magic, it was her finally giving in for a second and nearly burning all of their progress to hell. That she wants them more than she has ever wanted anything in her life. That she can't not worry because what if she screws this up – screws them up. She wants to say it all, but then the girls' flight number is called.

Rick gives her hand a small squeeze before rising from his chair, coffee in hand. She hesitates. This is another part of them. They don't talk about things. They have these silent conversations filled with heated stares or real conversations with double meanings so strong that she gets headaches. Heartaches. If they're ever going to have a relationship, Kate and Rick need to start talking about things. Straight on. No more sidestepping or ignoring the big things. They'll start soon. Tomorrow maybe. Today, they've got to get the girls home.

47:

She feels like a real life McDreamy. How ridiculous is it that she has now somehow become Meredith Grey, the borderline self-destructive, emotionally stilted, verbally restricted girl with mommy issues who can't seem to handle even the simplest of conversations? She has to communicate through coffee cups. It's pathetic. But, then again, it's also them. It's what makes Castle and Beckett who they are. Kate and Rick. Who are they? What are they? She needs labels and neat little boxes. So she draws a few boxes on the coffee cup. One says stuck together, the next says working together, the next says friends, then partners, then a big box with a question mark and the words where we are now. When Rick gets the cup, he puts a check in all of the boxes and adds a new one. That box reads: where we will be. Hopefully. It's cute. It's them. Well, one day.

48:

Rick is home with a fever. Kate brings him chicken soup in a coffee mug. He somehow ropes her into typing down the next chapter of Nikki Heat for him. She then spends the next hour telling him that his art imitating a very loosely based version of life idea is a bad one; Nikki most certainly should not heal Rook with sex. He tells her that it's probably for the best; she couldn't handle the sound of him narrating it, voice low and rough and rumbling down every cell in her body. Her jaw doesn't drop. It tightens. She takes a deep breath. Tells herself to calm down. She somehow winds up saying that she can handle more than he thinks. The next hour is spent focusing very sternly on the white page of the laptop screen and not the very red flush over her entire body. He pauses in his storytelling to ask if he's getting her sick; she looks a little... hot. She responds with a glare and a quick order for him to just finish already. He chuckles, says, "So I guess we can't always just cuddle, Beckett."

49:

Kate's still blushing when she gets to work the next morning. She has a cup in her hand for him and some clever comment that she couldn't think of the day before. All words die on her lips when she spots Rick a few feet away at her desk with some leggy brunette leaning towards him. The body language is obvious. This chick wants him. But he's Kate's. He knows that. She knows that. Everyone in the world knows that, except for apparently this chick. Kate steps closer and overhears the girl asking him if he wants to go get a coffee sometime, which is most definitely the final straw. Kate picks up the pace and walks around so that she's right behind Rick. She leans over his shoulder to put his coffee down on the desk. It's petty and she's sure that if Ryan and Esposito were there they would make some joke about her marking her territory, but she doesn't really give a damn. The only thing that matters is the frown on this bitch's face.

Kate pointedly says to her, "He already has one."

The woman huffs. Rick says, "Maybe next time." The woman smirks at Kate and stomps away. Rick turns with a delighted expression on his face. She ignores the amusement in his eyes to focus on his comment.

"Next time? What does that mean? 'The next time she nearly gets arrested and winds up in a precinct?' Castle, what are you thinking?"

He chuckles. "I'm thinking that we don't want her to claim police brutality because someone, meaning you, is a little... protective." She narrows her eyes at his word choice. He adds, "Besides, like you said, I've already got one, and if I remember correctly, another fifty-one to go. It'll be a while before anyone else has a chance to buy me coffee."

A while? "Try forever," Kate mumbles while taking her seat. She goes straight to work, but she can't help but notice that Rick stays smiling for hours after that.

50:

Rick doesn't make his own New Year's Eve party because of a new case. It's pretty high profile, and no one wants to put it off for a party. It won't look good for the precinct, so instead he counts in the new year by counting the seconds on Kate's computer screen on her desk. She's absent, but what else can he expect? That she'll be waiting to give him a kiss when the ball drops? Yeah, right. She's already had one kiss with him that shouldn't have happened this year. Though, technically, a kiss in eleven seconds would be a kiss that shouldn't have happened next year. Wait, eleven! Rick's eyes go back to the screen and he finds himself whispering, "Ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... two... on-"

"Happy New Year."

He swivels quickly, causing his knees to crash into Kate's legs. The act makes the hot fresh cup of coffee in her hand slosh and spill over onto the both of them. It burns and they both cry out. She thrusts the cup into his hand and tries to get some of the excess liquid off of her arms. Rick looks into the cup, spotting the remains of a Hershey's kiss melting inside. He looks up to say something about how brilliant she is, how perfect, but his words die as he takes her in. She's flustered, but he can see the disappointment. She was making a gesture and he ruined it. She kind of looks like she's about to pout. So he reaches into the cup and pulls what's left of the kiss out to pop into his mouth. He licks his lips after and stands, bringing them face to face. The proximity causes her breath to hitch and her hands to still. Her eyes drift down to lips before meeting his gaze. He chuckles a little breathlessly and he says, "Happy New Year, Kate." Then he walks away. Just like that. Her eyes trail him the entire way to the break room. It's nice. For once, she gets to follow him. And where he plans on taking them? It's worth every missed kiss and skipped party. And it always will be.

Feel free to suggest coffee ideas in your reviews.

We're halfway done! What are you thinking now?