Tunnel Vision
A Post-3x10 ("Last Call")/Season 3 AU
She keeps sneaking glances at him, her lips curving against the rim of her pint glass. He thinks he's imagining it at first, catching glimpses of her looks out of the corner of his eye, but after spying her outright staring, he's sure he isn't making it up.
Beckett is definitely watching him, maybe even checking him out if he's interpreting the looks she's offering properly.
"What?" he asks finally, tilting his head. The conversation has gone on around them – Ryan and Esposito are giving each other a hard time with Montgomery and Lanie jumping in at random to mock them both – but Beckett has remained relatively quiet, contemplative, and focused largely on him.
His partner tilts her head in return, her soft smile growing deeper. "Nothing. Just wondering if your next move is to buy the rest of the block and revitalize it, too. Call it Castleland. Oh, better idea: maybe you can get the mayor to rename the entire neighborhood Castle Village?"
He laughs. "I think my real estate empire starts and ends with revitalizing The Old Haunt. But I could see myself becoming a mogul eventually; I'd be pretty great at it."
"Sure you would, Castle," she says, shaking her head. It's affectionate, though, that much he can tell. That's enough for him, enough for the moment.
Montgomery is the first to leave, stating that it's past time for him to get home to Evelyn and the girls. Ryan is the next to beg off, unapologetic in his desire to get home to Jenny. Rick tries not to watch his partner when the detective leaves, knowing Beckett could be the next to depart. Given the fact that Motorcycle Boy seems to still be around, he almost expects it, especially after the point she'd made of telling him that he had dragged her out of the man's bed the other night.
He hates the bitterness that tinges his next sip of beer. Things had ended with Gina after he'd come back to the precinct, after their truce about Alexis and concert tickets had become a fight about everything else that was wrong with their relationship (both past and present). Since then, the gut-churning, ineffable attraction to Beckett has returned full force and then some, only to meet the stark reminder that she's with someone else already.
A smug cardiac surgeon whose accomplishments she's taken every opportunity to toss in his face.
Beckett's eyes narrow at his sigh. "What?" she asks this time, leaning closer.
Castle brushes it off. "Nothing. Just… not quite ready to call it a night. It's been fun."
His partner's smile softens. "Yeah, it has. But it's not over yet. Ryan always leaves first, you know that."
He concedes that point but doesn't elaborate on his mood any further, doesn't tell her that she's the one he isn't ready to say goodnight to, knowing she'll probably be going home to another man. He'll savor her presence for now; enjoy the time he has with her in his bar.
"I'm about to head out too," Lanie announces, piggybacking on Beckett's words, sending a not-so-secretive glance in Esposito's direction. Castle does a doubletake; it's got to be the alcohol because they're even less subtle than they were earlier.
"Ah, yeah. I should clear out, too," Esposito says. "I'm on early, after all."
Beckett snorts. "Uh huh. See ya tomorrow, Espo, Lanie."
She lifts her drink to her lips, the move an obvious demonstration of her own unwillingness to leave the bubble that they've created tonight.
Esposito does an admirable job of pretending not to be following Lanie out of the bar but even an amateur can tell what is going on there.
"So," Castle starts once it's just the two of them, turning to Beckett, "are we just gonna pretend that's not going on under our noses?"
Her laughter rings out for a moment before she tamps it down and offers a soft smile. "Oh, they'll crack at some point and spill. We just need to wait it out."
"Mmm, if you say so. You know, I'm surprised Lanie hasn't come right out and told you. What happened to girlfriends sharing all the details?"
Beckett grins. "Lanie shares in her own way. But backing up a bit, I just want to say that I'd be happy to hear 'if you say so' from you more often." She wiggles her eyebrows. "You should work on that, Castle."
"There's no fun in saying it when you're expecting it, Beckett. I'm trying to keep you on your toes."
His partner snorts, lifting an eyebrow. "Oh, is that what you're doing?"
He taps his pint glass against hers. "Absolutely. Wasn't it obvious?"
They sip their drinks in silence, sharing amused grins. It's a little thing, this ease with her, but he appreciates it nonetheless.
"Alexis isn't expecting you at home?" she asks after a while, cocking her head in a way that tells him she's not just asking to be nice. Beckett doesn't do polite small talk, especially not with him.
He shakes his head. "After Gracie left, she said she was meeting Ashley for a quick dinner and then heading home to study and decompress."
Beckett chuckles. "Somehow, I never really thought of studying as something that would help me decompress."
"I know. I have no idea where she gets that from. It's absolutely not from me."
His companion laughs again. "She's a good kid, Castle. You've done a good job with her."
"Thank you," he says honestly. "I like to say she's that good in spite of me, but I don't mind taking the compliment, too."
"I'm sure you don't." She grins. "You're never one to turn down a compliment."
His head dips, conceding that.
"And speaking of," Beckett pauses to look around. "I think it was a really nice thing you did, trying to preserve this place. I hope it works out."
"Thank you," he says. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but as soon as I walked back in, I remembered why this place was so special to me. I couldn't let it disappear into obscurity."
Beckett's chin lowers. "I could tell how much you care. I'm glad you'll get the chance to turn it around."
"Me too."
She sips her beer. "So do I get free drinks?"
He laughs. "Though I'm sure you already have no problem with this, you will never have to pay for a drink again in your life, Beckett. Mark my words. That is owner's partner privilege."
Beckett laughs. "Thanks."
"Everyone else has to pay, though."
That earns him a triumphant little smile from his partner.
"So what're you going to do about the door and the tunnel?"
He eyes her. He'd expected the city to mandate that he block it off and seal up the entrance from the – well, his now – office.
"I could leave it?" he asks. "You're…. not going to make me close it up for good?"
"You're a private enough citizen, I can't make you do anything. Even if you weren't one, I still can't make you do anything, Castle. The last few years have proven that."
He chuckles a little, blinking as the first part of her statement sinks in. "Really? So, if I want to leave it as is and spend my days exploring – when I'm not with you, of course – I can?"
She nods slowly. "You can. Beau James's stash room is still off limits for now, but–"
He claps his hands in delight. "And if I wanted to do that now? Would I be on my own or…?"
Beckett considers him. "Are you asking me if I'm going home yet, Castle?"
"No, I'm asking if you want to go explore the land of the chuds with me. But if you need to get home or to head over to Doctor Motorcycle Boy's…."
Her eyes narrow, but she exhales, sounding mournful in a way he doesn't quite get. "Maybe another time."
"Okay," he agrees. "After all, since I don't have to seal it up, it'll still be there."
She nods, glancing down at her glass. "I should go," she says, downing the rest of the beer quickly.
"Josh?" he asks, hating himself as soon as the words spill out. Jealousy, thy name is Ricky Castle.
She shakes her head. "He's on shift tonight. I'm just beat and I'm on early shift again tomorrow."
He doesn't comment that she seemed fine and willing to stick around until he'd mentioned the good doctor's less-than-affectionate nickname, he just agrees quietly and watches her stand.
"You coming, too?" she asks.
Castle shakes his head. "I'm going to stick around, watch how closing goes. New owner responsibilities and all."
"How very mature of you," she hums, shrugging into her blazer. "I'm impressed, Castle."
He manages a smile. "I wouldn't go that far," he says. "Just wanting to get a feel for things."
Her hand lands on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Night, Castle. Thanks for the drinks."
"See you tomorrow," he says automatically, watching her go.
He exhales, waiting until she disappears from sight before lifting his own drink to his lips and finishing it off. He glances around, taking in how many stragglers are in the room before standing bussing the table himself.
A week and a half later, his phone trills from the nightstand, jolting him out of a sound sleep. He scrambles for it, hoping he actually manages to answer it when he lifts the device to his ear.
"Castle," he mumbles, yawning into his fist.
"Wake up," Beckett orders, sounding like her usual crisp, business-like self, but he hears something else in her voice. A lilt of mischief. "Get dressed and meet me at your bar in forty-five minutes."
"Beckett?" he tries, just making sure he isn't imagining this. He could be dreaming this entire phone call; it wouldn't be the first time he's had dreams about Beckett, though usually she's a little bit sultry and isn't expecting him to leave his bed.
"Castle," she croons, saccharine sweet. "It's me. Wake up, put on clothes you can explore in, and meet me at The Old Haunt in forty-five minutes."
His eyes slip shut only to fly open again as her words sink in.
"…You mean?"
"Uh huh. Let's go."
He all-but falls out of bed in his haste to throw off the covers and get ready. He takes care to change into clothing he won't mind getting wet or dirty, making sure to dig his older hiking boots out of the back of the closet. Once he's dressed, he grabs the good flashlight from the camping equipment and scribbles a note for Alexis so she'll know where he is if he doesn't make it home before she wakes up.
He's practically skipping when he closes the door and moves down the hall to the elevator.
Beckett's waiting for him on the stoop when the cab pulls up at the curb in front of his bar. His partner looks up from her examination of her cuticles (though he has no doubt that she's been more aware of her surroundings without even looking than he is while on alert), grinning.
"Bout time, Castle. I was starting to think you were standing me up."
"Sorry," he says, trotting over to join her. "Had to find the right gear."
She laughs. "Needed to accessorize, Castle?"
"Something like that." He grins, pulling the key to the bar from his pocket and leading her down the stairs.
"Well, when we get inside, you can show me."
"And you'll show me yours?" he asks non-seriously. She snorts, moving closer to his back, close enough to touch her chin to his shoulder.
"Mmm, I just might. You'll have to let us in and kill the alarm to find out."
He shoves the door a little harder than necessary, scrambling to hit the lights and get to the access panel on the wall where he punches in the new code – Beckett's badge number – before the thing can wail long enough to wake the entire neighborhood. Beckett steps in a moment later, looking around. She hasn't been back since the first night he officially owned The Old Haunt, the night he treated the precinct gang to a glass of the best (and most expensive) scotch he's ever had and subsequent drinks, and he can tell she's searching for anything that's different.
"I haven't changed much yet," he says, seeing her brow dip. "Other than hiring some new staff, interviewing contractors to make needed repairs. I don't want to do anything that would change the atmosphere, but if something is gross or needs fixing, I'll take care of that."
"Makes sense," she agrees, moving toward floor entrance to his office after he locks the front door behind them. "I'll show you what I brought when we get downstairs."
"Deal," he grins, following her. "Want a drink?"
"It's two in the morning."
"So?"
A snort slips past her lips. "I think I'll pass, thanks. Besides, I would think that you'd want a clear head to explore. Just in case we encounter the mole people."
He snaps his fingers. "That's a good point. Okay, no drinks. We don't want to do anything that will keep people from believing us."
"For any reason other than because none of it is real?" she asks.
"Mole people are real, Beckett," he says, passing her once they hit the basement floor.
"Uh huh. Guess we'll see."
"No, they are," he says. "They're people who've made their homes underground. Some were homeless, some just decided to escape the insanity of the surface."
"Or are they actual moles who've evolved because of all the pollution in the sewer?" she teases to his back. "Are we going to find that out?"
"We might," he agrees. "It's the magic of the underground. Now, what'd you bring?" He dumps his bag out on the desk. "Here's mine."
Beckett grins, dumping out an almost identical bag of equipment beside his.
"Good choices," she praises, picking through his things as he does the same with hers. "Well, most of them. Really, Castle?"
She holds up the bag of gummy bears.
"In case we need a snack."
She rolls her eyes but tosses the candy back into his bag. "Okay, let's go."
He hastily re-packs her bag as well, feeling his heart thud a little harder in his chest at the opportunity to do this with her. "Let's go."
He sees her smiling as they swing the bookcase to the side and step into the secret antechamber of the underground tunnel.
"Where to?" he asks after they turn on their lights and leave a glowing marker as reference for their return.
Beckett cocks her head. "Wherever you want."
She seems nonchalant enough about it, but there's something in her voice he can't quite place, some bit of subtext that he isn't quite deciphering at this point. He files that away with a mental note to get to the bottom of it later; maybe she'll give him more clues as they go.
"In that case, let's take the road not traveled the other day."
Following his lead, she clucks her tongue. "Frost, huh? Little bit of a cliché, don't you think?"
"They're not clichés when they're classics, Beckett."
She snorts. "Sure they're not."
"They're not," he insists. "And classics are always appreciated."
"If you say so," she says, looking over at him, her amusement obvious even in the shadow of the flashlight she holds.
"I do," he says, triumphant at managing to get the last word, though he has no doubt that if she genuinely cared, they would still be having the discussion. Instead, they lapse into companionable silence, letting the sound of water and occasional splashing – which is admittedly quite unnerving – occupy the space between them.
They wander for hours, seeing which passages lead where and crossing more than a few junctures that they mutually agree to leave for another time (or forever) before they decide to retrace their steps to The Old Haunt. As they get closer, Rick finds himself laughing, earning a confused look from this partner.
"What?"
He exhales. "Just… this was fun, Beckett. Wacky, but fun."
She smiles, nodding. "Come on, let's make a detour quickly before we go back."
"Where?"
"Let's see how good the CSU team was in Beau James's stash room."
She reaches out, tugging on his arm, pulling him into an adjoining tunnel.
He doesn't argue. Why would he when this – more time at her side – is exactly what he'd hoped for a week ago?
"If they didn't do a good job, are you going to report them?"
She laughs. "No, I'm just curious."
There's that odd note to her voice again. The subtle hang of her words that tells him there's more to this, more she hasn't figured out how to say (or what to say). There's just more.
He tilts his head. "If I find more scotch they didn't confiscate, are you going to report me?"
Beckett laughs again. "No, not if you keep it and only share it with me."
"I think I can manage that – if I must."
Beckett scoffs. "You want the scotch, Ricky? Then you must."
He offers a grin, following her down the corridor to the recently cleared scene. "Ah, this is familiar."
"Glad you recognize it, because I thought I'd gotten us lost for a second there."
"Don't worry, we could've asked the mole people for directions."
"Except, as expected, we haven't seen any."
"They're around, they're just hiding."
She sighs, but he sees a spark of fondness in her eyes, too. It's enough to tell him she isn't nearly as bothered as she pretends to be. She never is, really.
"Okay," she says as they near the door, "they had it locked up when the investigation was still active but…" Beckett trails off, jiggling the chain until the lock comes undone. "There."
Rick follows her in, finding the light switch on the wall and bathing them in a soft amber glow. His partner blinks at the light, lifting her lips in gratitude. He nods, finding that anything more has been wiped from his brain, just by how beautiful she looks in jeans and her jacket, her hair in a low, messy ponytail.
"This place really is amazing," she says, looking around. His eyes scan the shelves after her, peering deep into the empty crevasses to see if there's anything other than spiders and cobwebs in there.
"Anything?" he asks. Beckett shakes her head.
"Nothing – ah, wait, wait. Bring your light over here, Castle."
He hustles to her, holding his flashlight where she directs.
"Do you see it? It looks like a lid of some kind."
He presses closer, his cheek coming almost in contact with hers to try to see what she sees.
"I – oh, there it is." He tries to reach for the object, but his hand is too big to get that far back. "Damn, I can't –"
"Move, I'll try." She swats his hand, shrugging out of her coat and handing that to him, too, sticking her fingers into the cubby. "I can… almost – got it! I got it."
She grins, pulling the bottle out slowly.
"You are amazing."
She laughs, drawing away from him when he tries to take the bottle of scotch from her. "Maybe it should stay with me. After all, I did get it."
"Not cool, we agreed!"
She grins. "You have your other bottle too, don't forget."
"Mmm, true," he concedes.
"But I'm willing to let you store this one in your office, too, and you can drink it when I'm around."
He tilts his head, wondering exactly how often she plans to be around to share it with him. "Okay, deal."
"In that case," she hums, "this is yours. Let's keep the word from getting out, though, okay?"
"It's our secret," he swears, crossing his heart. Beckett rolls her eyes, trading the bottle for her jacket. "I'll even get special glasses, just for us, to mark the occasion."
"Of course you will." She pats his shoulder, glancing around the dusty room again. "This has been fun. A lot of fun."
"Yeah, it has. Thanks for calling me to do it."
"Even though we haven't seen any chuds?" she asks, looking up at him.
"We heard them, Beckett. I know we did."
"Those were rats." She brushes a hand over a wooden crate top, pulling her phone from her pocket to take a picture. He can't help but make a note of it; maybe he can sneak back sometime and grab it for her. It fits her style, and he bets it would look good in her new place.
"Mmm, no, those were way too big to be rats."
"They're New York rats," she argues, moving back to the entrance of their little hideaway. "Come on, we should head back now."
He nods. "Kay. You're not on at seven, are you?"
"No, no. I'm off all day. Figured I could sleep until mid-afternoon if I need to."
"No other plans?"
Beckett eyes him. "Castle, just ask. Just – just ask already."
"Why don't you just tell me?" he challenges. "You've – it feels like you've been dancing around something all night long. What do you want me to know, Beckett?" he asks as they splash their way back toward The Old Haunt.
"I broke up with Josh," she blurts out, shining her flashlight at his chin. "Okay? We broke up."
Without giving him time to respond, she starts walking again.
"I–" he stumbles. "When?" he asks to her back, hustling to catch up with her.
"The day after you bought the place." She sighs, rubbing her forehead. "We had a fight… I told him I wasn't going to – we had a fight and I realized it wasn't going to work out. So we broke up."
He blinks, allowing her words the time to sink in. They – was the fight about him? Would that be his ego talking? His hope? Of course, he doesn't want her to be unhappy, but if she's single and he's single…
"I'm sorry," he says, settling on the simple response instead of trying for something more profound. He glances ahead to see the glowing marker she'd left outside The Old Haunt's hidden room.
She snorts. "No you're not."
"Well, I'm not super sorry. But I am sorry. Is there – do you need anything? Ice cream? John Hughes movies? I do a mean French braid."
She huffs something resembling a laugh, moving to the door without responding.
Together they seal up the passageway behind them, making sure the door is locked. Beckett even checks and rechecks the lock to ensure it's secure, a fact which makes his heart stumble a little bit stupidly. He kills the light once she steps into the office, finding her waiting by the bookshelf for him to help move it back when he crosses the threshold.
He really should look into making it a true Murphy bookcase if they're going to continue to go out and explore; there's no reason for them to have to do so much work each time. He sets his bag beside hers on the desk, putting the bottle of scotch on a special shelf, displaying it proudly, before rounding back to her.
"There is," she says after they've finished pushing the bookshelf back into place with only minimal huffing and puffing between them. Off his confused look, she adds, "something you can do."
"There is? Really?"
"Yeah. If you were… if you were serious, I mean."
"Of course I was," he says quickly, not willing to give her the opportunity to change her mind.
She nods, striding to him. He takes a step back, feeling his legs hit the edge of his desk. Beckett smirks, moves closer.
"Okay," she says, taking a deep breath. "Good."
Her hands lift, faltering for a moment before pressing to his chest. He covers her hand with one of his, allowing the other to land on her hip, as much to keep himself steady as it is to touch her.
"What um," he licks his lips, "what can I do?"
Beckett's eyebrow lifts. "Been a while for you, Castle?"
"Um…"
She lifts onto her toes, pressing her mouth to his. The kiss is quick, just enough to make her point, and she looks expectant when she pulls back.
"You can kiss me," she says, spelling it out for him, tilting her head. "That's what you can–"
He pulls her into his chest, sliding his mouth over hers, catching the rest of her sentence with his kiss. Beckett hums, pressing closer, tugging on his lower lip. He returns the favor with a flick of his tongue, the press of his fingers against her hip.
Kate's hands flex on his chest, curling in his shirt.
"He was pissed that I went to meet you," she says between kisses, sliding her arms around his neck, trailing her fingers through the hair at the base of his head. "He said I have no problem dropping everything when you call, but not when he does. You happy?"
"Right now?" Castle breathes. "Immensely. But not because–"
Beckett cuts him off, trailing her tongue over his lip.
"Sorry you fought, not sorry you're here," he says, making sure she knows he means it. "Not sorry I'm here."
Beckett smiles against his mouth, gentles her kiss.
"I know," she says, thumbing his ear. "I know."
He rests his forehead on hers, cupping her jaw with a gentle hand.
"I'm not sorry about that, either," she confesses, coming back for more, sliding her mouth over his with purpose that gives way to lazy exploration, to sweet, slow caresses, to leaving them both weak-kneed and robbed of breath.
"Best night ever," he pants.
"Better than the–"
He cuts her off with another kiss, an easy grin. "Way, way better than that."
Her arms tighten. "Good." She rubs her nose over his. "Good to hear."
He grins, stealing another kiss from her lips, rocking her into his chest. Beckett groans, gripping the back of his head.
"Have dinner tonight?" he asks against her mouth. "With me, obviously. And after a shower."
"Obviously," she echoes, grazing her teeth over his lip, her smile pressing to his at his inhale. "That sounds good."
He grins.
"But breakfast in bed sounds better," she murmurs. "And more immediate – after that shower, of course. My place? Now?"
He nods, eager and ecstatic at once. Their mouths collide again, savoring one last, knee-trembling kiss.
"Let's go," she insists, yanking away and grabbing his hand with her fingertips and giving him a tug, trusting him to snag their bags from his desk as they pass on the way out of the basement and out of the bar.
Sure, they may not have had a first-hand encounter with the mole people, but he has exactly zero complaints about how their evening of underground urban exploration is ending.
Thank you for reading! I had fun writing this so I hope it was a fun read for you, too. Until next time, everyone - be well!