Title: Good For You
Disclaimer: Well, this is officially AU. Though, I contend that I would have probably done the same if I'd started this post-finale. Similar, at least.
Summary: When the Dragon is slain, there's just a life to be lived. And sometimes there's more to learn in peace than in war.
Chapter 25:
"I'm not doing that."
"Oh, come on," he whispers, crowding into her, skating his lips up her neck as she laughs and shoves at his arms. "It's not—it's different first class."
"Castle, the bathroom in first class is just as small as the one in coach, and if you're serious right now, I'm taking the Nyquil in my bag and sleeping the whole way home."
He lets his head fall to her shoulder, groaning as she pats his forearms, shuffling forward even with him clinging to her back. "But Kate," he whines as she fishes in her shoulder bag, which is digging into his solar plexus.
"No," she says sternly, passing over their tickets to the amused looking attendant at the gate. "Now come on. You can buy me going home champagne."
"And cop a feel?"
"Castle!"
He laughs, releasing her to move to her side and snag her hand in his. "Sorry, sorry. Just trying to keep it light."
She shakes her head but threads their fingers together, tugging him down the hall and up the gentle incline toward the plane. "Well," she looks over, lips curving deviously. "I'm sorry the alarm went off late. I would have—last morning and all."
"Beck—ett," he exclaims, chasing after her as she scurries away and up toward the door.
He catches her just as she's showing their tickets to a prim flight attendant. He nearly topples her over, and the glare she shoots him as they follow the woman through the side entrance and through first class to their seats is less amused and more actually annoyed with him. But really, that one wasn't his fault. Crappy balance and sticky floors—not in his control at all.
Still, she lets him have the window seat in their little section—private and huge and luxurious. It's seriously the only way to fly. He watches as she settles down next to him, squishing into the soft leather seat, her bag safely tucked beneath her, hands fidgeting in her lap.
She looks relaxed, a little tan, a little free. Her hair rests over one shoulder in that adorable braid she never wears enough, and he smiles as she gently dislodges her sunglasses and stows them in their armrest. She'd been oddly fascinated by that little amenity the last time they'd flown together, over a year ago.
But this time, he can reach out and still her fidgeting hands, can lean over before they turn on the seat belt light, can brush his lips to her cheek. She sags into him, squeezing his hand, and he wonders at the emotions on her face.
"You okay?" he asks, pulling back to look at her.
She goes to say something back, sharp and fast, but deflates instead, shaking her head—that little movement of dismissal, as if whatever she's feeling can't matter much. "I'm good," she says.
"I'm sad," he offers, smiling as she snaps her gaze to his. "What? Giving this up, just us? Sad. Wistful. A little pent up," he throws in, waggling his eyebrows to get her to laugh. "You?"
"Same," she breathes out, reaching up with her free hand to cup his cheek, running her thumb beneath his eye. "But it's not—not much will change back in New York," she tells him firmly. He figures it's as much for his benefit as hers.
"Right," he agrees, as much for her benefit as his. He wants this to stay the same, wants her with him every night, wants her in his space, in his home, all over—plastered all over him and his life and his everything.
"Alexis said she wanted to have dinner," she says softly. "You think you'll be up for that?"
"Did she text you?" he wonders, nodding in answer as he fishes in his pocket for his phone. Damn, he missed the text.
"Yeah. So a yes on dinner?"
"Definitely, if you're good with it," he tacks on, giving her an out. He can wait a night to see his kid, but if Alexis needs him—
"Of course," she says instantly. "I love your kid."
He groans and bends to press his lips to hers, a little rough, still a little pent up. Damn alarm. "Love you," he tells her mouth, smiling as she laughs against his lips.
She pushes him away a moment later to send a last text to his daughter just as the seatbelt lights flicker and the PA turns on, blasting out announcements. They buckle in and try to relax through the safety instructions and destination explanation—the weather, the five-and-a-half hour trip.
Finally, the engines start and they begin to taxi, the plane humming all around them. Rain drips down the window as he watches the Seattle-Tacoma airport slowly glide out of view. Their last few days were wonderful, filled with rain and gorgeous sun, and so much laughter, so much teasing.
All that's left is to return to New York, to stop running and come to a full halt back into their real lives. Sad—he's sad, he's terrified, he's flying.
Her fingers clench around his and he turns to look at her, catching her brilliant smile. "I love flying," she murmurs, turning sparkling eyes on him. "It's just—I mean, so many tons of metal, up in the air. Amazing."
He nods, can't seem to unglue his mouth to respond, breathless for her joy.
"It just makes your stomach fall out," she adds, tense in her seat as they continue to rise. She taps a finger against his palm and gestures for them both to watch out the window as the country sinks below them, stretching out into fields and mountains, falling away. "Makes me feel small," she says softly.
"Yeah," he agrees, finding only that syllable to agree. "Wow," he continues, watching, entranced by it suddenly, this physical goodbye to their trip.
They watch in silence until they break the clouds and everything is grey and white below them. The shapes, the jutting arcs of white are as enchanting as the scenery they cover, but he finds himself watching Kate instead as she settles in, adjusting her seat belt, moving their joined hands like she's just got her own to contend with.
Finally, they level off, gliding along too fast to comprehend, zooming across the country. "What'd you bring to do?" he asks as he slips his iPad out of his carry on, regretfully letting her hand go to situate the thing on his lap.
"Book," she replies, pulling Flowers For Your Grave out of her bag with a smirk. He grins at her, and his smile widens as she sees the iPad. "Wait, are you writing?"
"I'd rather do it on the laptop, but I don't like bringing it in case something happens," he explains with a shrug. There was an incident early on with a larger seat companion, a mini-bottle of champagne and half a draft's worth of novel gone. He's not about to make that mistake twice.
"You got enough battery to watch a movie once the light goes off?" she asks, the book forgotten in her lap.
He nods and smiles as the seatbelt light goes dark a moment later. "Get over here," he murmurs, watching as she unbuckles and lifts their armrest to scoot into his side, her body stretched over seats as it crowds into his. "What do you want to watch?" he asks, glancing up to realize that they have their own screens with a huge selection of movies on the plane as well.
She taps the iPad and snuggles into him with a sly smile. "You have Pride and Prejudice on here, right?" she asks as she grabs the headphones and splitter from his bag, bending half in his lap so her face is just shy of getting him to the mile-high club.
The smirk on her lips tells him she knows exactly what she's doing. "Alexis put it on here, yes," he manages, frowning as she straightens up. A flight attendant walks by a moment later and Kate grins.
"Forget it, Castle," she says, patting his cheek as she plugs in the splitter.
"Someday," he growls, running his thumb down along the trail from her ear to her clavicle, watching as she swallows thickly.
"Save it for the honeymoon, champ," she mutters, scrolling through the movies as he rests the iPad on his thigh.
"If we don't, you'll never hear the end of it," he tells her, pointing as he spots their movie for the trip.
"Charter a plane," she fires back, plugging in her headphones one-handed as she skates the other up his chest to pat his heart.
"Done," he decides, slipping his own earbuds into his ear. "Tomorrow?"
She laughs, the sound muted by the soft piano that starts the film. "Watch the movie," she instructs, leaning her head onto his shoulder, warm and heavy with promise and future and the scent of her conditioner.
They stay there, plastered together, comfortable, for the better part of the film. She sighs quietly against his shoulder as Darcy confesses his love for Elizabeth in the pouring rain. His lips find her temple and Castle breathes against her skin, letting vestiges of the last year flow out of him, out of her—exorcizing the demons of 'forgotten' I love yous and hidden murder boards.
Just as Elizabeth is studying the bust of Mr. Darcy, the plane bucks around them. Kate startles on his shoulder, her hand clenching into his shirt. The seatbelt light goes on and he groans, letting her go as she scrambles up to buckle in. He pauses the movie as the PA comes on.
"We're entering a pretty heavy rain system and expect moderate turbulence. Please fasten your seatbelts and remain seated until further notice."
Kate sighs, her hands tight on the armrests as he tries to figure out where to put the iPad so they can keep watching. But as he returns his gaze to his girlfriend, he decides that Pride and Prejudice just won't be distracting enough. She's gone pale, her hands in fists on the armrests as the plane jiggles, her lips clamped together, pursed and turning white.
"Hey," he says softly, reaching out to tug her earbuds from her ears so he can stow the iPad away. "Just turbulence."
She nods, but he can see that it doesn't make much of a difference. The cabin shakes again and she turns to look at him with wide, panicked eyes. "I like flying, but I can't—we took a whole trip when I was a kid and it was like this. I don't even remember where we went."
"Oh," he sighs, reaching out to take her hand. "We're gonna be fine," he says softly.
"I know," she growls. "Not a child, Castle."
He bobs his head, biting his cheek to keep from firing back. She's scared and touchy; now is not the time to defend himself. Someone's bag falls to the floor a few seats away when the plane shifts, and Kate stiffens. He's learning today; PTSD and bad turbulence don't mix.
She shakes as they hit another bump and he notes the light green tinge to her jaw, the way she's breathing so slowly, trying so hard. He can't just vault over and hold her, protect her with his body, or comfort her with his mouth. But he—yes, he packed Dramamine, got some at the duty free store where she picked up her Nyquil, just in case. Somehow, he doesn't think she'll let herself take the Nyquil and knock herself out.
"Kate," he says gently, reaching into his bag for the bottle. "Here, this should help."
She lets him pry her hand from the armrest to hand her the pill. "What is it?" she manages, her jaw tight.
"Dramamine. Should help the nausea."
"God, marry me," she sighs, grabbing the pill from him as he extends the bottle of water from their center console.
He chuckles as he watches her toss the pill back and take a sip with shaking fingers. He just wants to reach over and yank her into him, wants to soothe her and make his own heart calm down, because man, it's bad. They're really rocking and it's starting to get to him too.
But he focuses on Kate, on the slow way she relaxes as the drugs hit her system. It's a little too fast—a little psychosomatic, placebo effect—but he'll take it. And apparently, so will she.
She groans as they hit another bump, but he can tell this one is from thinly veiled fear, and not motion sickness. "Thanks," she sighs, turning to look at him as she curls her hand back into his.
"Anytime," he says with a tight smile, gripping into his thigh with his free hand, trying to—what, trying to hide his own discomfort? "This sucks," he admits.
She hums her consent and strokes her fingers across his open palm. "We taking a taxi back?" she asks, trying to distract them both now that she can think over her stomach.
"Was planning on it. But I could probably order a car through the plane's WiFi" he offers. "It's gonna be stop and start either way," he adds, catching on to her desire to just have a smooth trip back. "We could take the shuttle train."
"You like trains," she sighs. He chuckles, smiling as the corner of her mouth slips up.
"You falling asleep?" he prompts when her head lolls to the side.
"Your drugs are making me sleepy," she mumbles.
"Good," he says softly. "Sleep and I'll order a car."
"Don't wanna leave you alone," she whispers as the plane jolts again. Her eyes pop open as his chest clenches. "On second thought, no sleeping."
"Okay," he groans, pushing his head back into his own seat.
"Take Dramamine," she urges, passing him back the bottle of water.
"I'll pass out," he argues, taking a sip, letting it wet his throat and cool his roiling stomach.
"I haven't," she protests, even as her eyelids flutter.
"No, but you have more willpower than I do," he returns. "Took it once with Alexis on a trip to see Meredith. Super bad turbulence, and I fell asleep, got woken up by the attendants because my daughter was crying so hard," he explains. "Not doing that again."
He still feels guilty every time he takes his daughter on a plane, though she barely remembers that day, and loves planes, like Kate. Hell, she even enjoys light turbulence—says it feels like a rollercoaster. Apparently neither he nor Kate feels the same.
Her fingers tangle with his and he feels her free hand come down to encase his palm. He glances over and finds her there, staring at him, her face soft and lovely and oddly calm.
"You're a great dad," she assures him, like she knows he's reliving it—knows he's connected these two moments together. "And if you need to pass out so you don't hurl, please, do," she adds, laughing a little. "Nothing very romantic about that."
He chuckles and brings their hands over the armrest to press his lips to the back of hers, letting their contact calm him down enough to try to control his stomach. "I'm good," he mouths into her skin.
She narrows her eyes but doesn't comment, letting him continue to caress her skin as lightning flashes out the window. "Wow," she breathes. "I always forget about being above the storm."
"Pretty cool," he agrees, taking his eyes off of her for a moment to watch another bolt crack the sky where it's stormy below them. He figures they must still be in the wind belt or something even if they're a bit above the storm.
"Most embarrassing story about being caught in a storm," she whispers, leaning toward him even as the belt restrains her, leaving her there with her cheek on the edge of her headrest, eyes staring at him.
He blows out a breath and gives her a smile, mirroring her so they're only a few inches apart, separated by soft beige leather as their hands twist and stroke between them.
"I took Alexis to Florida once, to go to Disney World," he begins, smiling wider as her eyes grow clearer, as she pushes through the haze of exhaustion to listen with rapt attention. "And we took a day to go to the beach. Gina came with us that time," he says, pausing to make sure it's all right to tell it. Kate just smiles and reaches up to adjust his collar. "So when it started to storm, Alexis went running back up to help her pack up the beach stuff. But I was still in the water, and my trunks didn't feel the need to stay with me after I got rolled by a breaker."
She laughs, startled, and grins at him. "Lemme guess, you were caught in your Birthday suit by paparazzi?"
He nods, laughing with her. "Gina was pissed, for more than one reason, but Alexis thought it was hysterical, and a little gross."
"Why have I never heard about this, or seen it?" she wonders, smirking.
"Gone looking for naked pictures of me, have you?" he teases, running his fingers down her arm.
"No," she says firmly, a little too quickly. "But I would think that would have made the news."
"I think Gina paid them off," he admits.
"Did it ruin the trip?"
He scoffs. "Alexis had a blast. I slept on the couch for a few days, but Alexis had a blast."
Kate frowns. "It's not your fault that your trunks got washed away."
"Thanks," he says, lifting their hands to kiss her pulse. "But don't blame it all on her. I was an ass about it—wouldn't take it as a serious threat to my career. I could have, uh, respected her efforts more."
Kate shakes her head. "If it ever happens again, I'm just gonna laugh. You know that, right?"
He grins, laughing with her. "Good," he says, smiling. "It'll be so much better if you can find it funny."
She nods and then bites her lip. "Speaking of which, um, how much will I probably have to find funny? Ballpark figure."
He pauses and considers her. She's strong, his girl. She could beat the crap out of anyone with a camera faster than a shutter click. But she's also his muse, and if it's a slow fall for celebrity, they'll probably make the paper more than once—a real-life love story to mirror the one in his books. He'd want it if it wasn't his relationship.
"Enough," he hedges. "But most of it will be good stuff, at the beginning at least."
"Good stuff," she repeats, arching an eyebrow.
"You know, romantic stuff. They're going to love the muse-to-lover angle. They're going to make up all sorts of things about the whys and hows. And that will be fun for us."
She nods contemplatively. "It's the pregnancy and marriage and scandal stuff I'm going to hate, right?"
He nods slowly. "Yeah. I can talk to Paula about trying to keep it out of the papers as much as I can, but I mean, you've seen it before. They're going to eat it up."
"And unless we hide, there's no stopping it?"
She doesn't look put out, merely interested, curious. "Right," he says slowly. "I'm not really suggesting we go either way though."
"No grand date to show me off?" she teases, her eyes sparkling, her face so much more relaxed.
"Nah," he says easily, smiling as she grins. "Besides, if we're going for big, I'd rather the coverage go toward publicizing your mom's benefit than our relationship."
"Oh." Her eyes go wide for a moment before he watches a smile blossom over her face. "So we could use this to get people interested?"
Wow, so not where he would have gone in her shoes, but yes. Yes, they can, and they will, and he'll talk to Paula about it first thing tomorrow. "Yes," he says, smiling with her, amazed by her. "We can try to channel it into something good."
"More charities too," she says suddenly. "The family compensation funds at the NYPD are low. Can we," she pauses and looks at him, suddenly shy. "I mean, I don't want to exploit you, us, it," she rushes out. "Jeez."
He laughs and gives up, loosening his belt to surge forward and catch her lips—this woman who wants to forget the negatives and put his annoying fame and public scrutiny to their advantage, to help people.
"Yes. Anything you want. If you're going to be in the papers with me, you can use it to promote research on teleportation for all I care."
She laughs and pushes him back into his seat, even as she smiles with her kiss-ripened lips, sexy and amazing. "The benefit first, and then we'll see," she tells him, her voice light and relaxed and lovely.
"The benefit first," he echoes.
She smiles and closes her eyes for a moment, tangling their hands back together as he watches the seatbelt light go off. They've stopped bumping, and the clouds below them seem to be lightening. He didn't even notice.
"Hey," he says softly, lifting the armrest as he unbuckles his seatbelt.
She opens her eyes and blinks as he scoots up to her, resting his forehead against hers even as he raises a leg to the seat to manage it.
"Hi," she whispers, leaning forward to press her lips to his. "Almost home?"
He turns to look a the trip log at the front of their section. "Looks like two hours if the wind keeps up," he says, turning back to her. "We'll have a few hours before we meet up with Alexis," he adds.
"Great," she says happily. "I wanna unpack."
"Right," he murmurs. Unpack where? Her place? His place? Is she staying with him tonight? Is he staying with her?
The questions swirl in his head, and suddenly nothing is simple. Everything's changing. Being back means they're not just together. They're not constantly together. What's the plan? How does he even go about asking her?
"Can we stop at my place so I can dump my stuff and grab clean clothes for dinner?" she asks a minute later.
He opens his eyes, surprised to discover he'd closed them at all, and finds her watching him knowingly. "Uh, sure," he says quickly.
"I figure I should have stuff at your place, since Alexis might want to come back to the loft, right?"
"Right," he says dumbly.
"I mean," she falters, watching him for something he's not sure how to give, "I can stay at my place, but…"
"No," he says quickly, finding his voice again. "No, bring your stuff. Don't bother unpacking. Just grab clean stuff for tomorrow and we'll do our stuff later tonight."
"Just—" she breaks off and stares at him. "To what, leave my stuff at your place?"
"Yeah?" he suggests, feeling unsure and brave and cowardly all at once. He should just ask her, just tell her to stay—to move in, or half move in, or something. But they're not doing that yet, are they? "You can have a drawer." She lifts an eyebrow. "Three," he corrects quickly. "And closet space and a shelf in the bathroom?"
"Better," she says after a moment, her face relaxing into a smile. "Do you—
"I didn't think I should—" he pauses and meets her eyes. "You're welcome to stay as long as you want," he decides, giving her the option without setting parameters. They can do this. Hell, they've been talking babies and rings. What's a few drawers, really?
She considers him for a moment, thinking, and then she smiles. It lights up her eyes and melts his heart, calms him down. Because the semantics don't matter, do they?
She squeezes his fingers, left hand to left hand. "I'll bring my bag," she whispers against his ear as he wraps his arms around the parts of her he can reach. "But I'm gonna need four drawers."