Whew, I managed to get Chpt 12 done... somehow. I think I see the end. Not sure if I should :) or :(
K
The Things Mothers Would Approve Of
Chapter 12: Phones, Tea and Clicking Pens
Beckett lay awake on her bed. His smell lingered on her spare pillow, and like a pathetic teenage girl she brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply.
This was a problem.
She could dismiss the 10 years. He acted younger than both Ryan and Esposito.
She could, reluctantly, let go of the ex-wives and the string of women who had dwindled to the point of disappearing. They had disappeared after all.
Alexis was a real worry, but she knew the girl enough to know she'd eventually be okay.
But work. Work was so complicated. Could they still do it? Pick and laugh at each other? Have fun while hunting down the monsters? A tough case could come stomping in and break their delicate balance. She found it hard to believe that they'd be able to fall in bed to make love after a grueling murder case.
Her mind reeled and giving up, she rose and wandered into the kitchen. Within moments she'd set a pot of water on for a cup of mint tea. Waiting for the shrill whistle, she surveyed the room. Her eyes lingered at the step, their step. A flash of memory and her thighs were burning. She pushed the thought away.
She'd booted him for the roof and her apartment. He hadn't called.
Did she really expect him to call?
Yes.
He'd never taken the hint before. He'd never left her alone. Somehow, this had to be a testament to how serious the situation was.
The scream of the steam escaping from the kettle, brought her back the the gas stove. A flick of her wrist and the gas cut, vanishing the flame.
When the alarm went off the next morning, Kate struggled to find the switch. The resulting fumble tipped over her remnants of tea, crashing the mug to the hardwood floor and splitting the mug into large pieces. "Damn." She uttered, it was going to be a long day.
His alarm buzzed him awake from his Windows phone. A few flicks of screens and he was catching up with other writers on his Twitter feed, but it wasn't what he wanted to be doing. Finding the main screen again, his finger paused above her face. It was far too early to call normal people, but he knew she'd be up. She always beat him in. His foot tapped as he sat over the edge of the bed. He couldn't do it.
He'd repent the way he knew best.
Coffee.
And a fresh bagel.
Every time the elevator dinged, her eyes looked up. Every time it wasn't him, she kicked herself. When the steady stream of arrivals began, she found herself engrossed in a case she offered to look over for the 10th. When a crisp white bag appeared on her desk, she visably jumped at the unexpected intrusion. He stood before her, holding out the coffee like an offering.
"Castle." She acknowledged.
"Beckett." He answered easing into his chair. His eyes lingered on her face.
"Don't."
"What?"
"Look at me like that. The entire precinct will know." She hissed.
"I've got news for you." He lowered his voice in return, "There was a pool. They gave up last year and decided we were already doing it like bunnies just so they could put it to bed." The confession, as true as it was, dropped her jaw. He nodded in confirmation before pulling a napkin and plopping her bagel and cream cheese cup onto it. She liked hers fresh. His came out next, and he picked it up wordlessly, heading into the break room to toast it.
When he returned, she'd put a good dent in hers. He finished his without comment and then reached for a pen. He'd only clicked it open twice when her eyes burned into his. "Stop." She told him firmly, taking the pen and placing it out of reach. As she returned to her file, he pulled the previous dates from her square desktop calendar. Castle folded it quickly into a tiny crane and she studied his hands from the corner of her eyes. She remembered where they'd been, while he continued on obliviously. He filled it with air and capturing a non-clicking pen, added eyes and lines on the wings to separate feathers. "Seriously." She complained, drawn to his attention to detail, "Go bug Ryan and Espo."
"I'm not doing anything!" He protested. Beckett's eyebrow rose in a challenge. "I do this all the time." With a shake of her head she turned back to the cold borrowed file. "I do, look." He continued, pulling her recycle bin for under the desk, revealing several cranes among the recycled papers. She looked at him helplessly, before turning back to the file and slapping it shut. When she rose and her feet clicked on the tiles towards the copy room, he followed.
She stuffed the file into an outgoing envelope and tossed it into the appropriate box. He stood, eyes trailing up her legs as the calves and heels sucked his breath. When her finger collided with his chest, he faltered.
"You didn't call me." She hissed.
"Me?" He barely contained the shriek as she shushed him. "You kicked me out."
"Shut up." She ordered, spinning on her heels marching back out onto the precinct floor.
"No." He commanded as he plopped back into his chair. "I must have picked up this phone," the item waved about in his hand, "a dozen times."
"Why didn't you?"
"This. This is why." He gave up. She looked over at him. "I can't win."
"You make me crazy." She confessed, "Most the time I don't know what to do with you."
"I can think of plenty of things for you to do." He leered, smirking his classic smirk. The detective at the next desk sent them a look.
"Damnit, Castle. Shut up." She protested, and her neighbor chuckled. The line was nothing he hadn't overheard in the past and he'd likely hear it again in the future.
Beckett stood up and dragged him with her. He could feel the anger, the heat and the hostility flying off her as she shoved him into the small ladies locker room. There were not many females on the floor, and the resulting space was small but still provided a dozen tall lockers, two showers, a sink and 2 enclosed toilet stalls.
A little late, it dawned on him she'd thrown the deadbolt to the room. Faster than he could blink, Kate had him backed against a metal wall.
Her mouth connecting hotly with his, her breasts pressing insistently to his chest. She was in charge, she was in control. His hands clutched fistfuls of her shirt, before reaching down to hoist her up against him at her instance.
He didn't need to be told twice.
