Slow Burn
Chapter 7
Kate spends more time than usual on her hair, creating curls that will last through a few hours of paperwork and survive the morning's unwelcome heat. Similarly, she lingers over her make-up: a smoky eye she'd never normally wear to the precinct, a darker shade of lipstick that will stand up to the sophisticated charcoal silk of her seriously expensive dress.
She packed a bag with her heels, clutch, her makeup bag for touch-ups, perfume, and even a toothbrush to take to work. Her dress is safely cocooned inside a suit carrier. She's traveling to the precinct in jeans and a button-down, planning to change into her wedding outfit before she leaves the Twelfth to pick Castle up at his loft on her way to the wedding, which is being held at a pretty Catholic church on Staten Island. The ceremony is scheduled to begin at two-thirty sharp, and if she knows this bride and groom, then that is exactly when the nuptials will begin.
So, she has it all planned out: her day, her outfit, the timing, her car.
But then there is Richard Castle, the man who knows a guy in every state and every nook and cranny of the city, high and low and all trades in between, a man of infinite patience and none, a man who is head over heels in love.
Things do not go according to plan. Well, at least, not according to Kate Beckett's plan.
She settles at her desk with a mug of coffee she persuaded one of the night shift guys to make for her before he clocked off shift. Burns from Castle's fancy machine, lank curls from the damn steam wand, or a chipped manicure are all hazards she was happy to forgo this particular morning.
The bullpen is quiet; Ryan is at home freaking out that Jenny might not show up at the altar, and Esposito has taken the entire day off after muttering something about last minute shopping, which Kate suspects means that he plans to make an ill-fated sartorial attempt to turn Lanie's head. She smiles to herself as she thinks about Lanie and about what she will say when she sees Kate walking into the church with Castle; how happy they will all be.
Humming to herself while she completes a DD5 is not her usual M.O., and the patrolman who arrives at her desk carrying a white florist's box seems discomforted by her singing. She takes the box with a smile of thanks and watches as he gets the hell out of there like his pants are soaked in gasoline and Kate is juggling an open flame.
If the box is beautiful in and of itself, when she opens it, she discovered that the contents are more than a match. The heavenly-scented frangipani with soft pink petals and a yellow heart will make the perfect corsage against the backdrop and more sober sophistication of her silk dress.
She picks up the phone, something she has resisted doing since she got up this morning, and she dials Castle's number.
"You got me flowers?" she says, smiling broadly because she can no longer help it.
She can hear him smiling, too, when he says, "Well, good morning to you, detective."
She holds the corsage up to the light. "Castle, these are beautiful. They smell divine. But you didn't have to do this."
"I wasn't sure you'd have time and I was organizing a buttonhole for myself, so…"
Kate smiles into the back of her hand and shakes her head. "They're matching, aren't they? We're going to match?" she says, already knowing what his answer will be.
In the past, she would have yelled at him and made a fuss if he'd pulled a stunt like this. Now she just feels grateful, taken care of; her heart expands to fill her chest and she grows warm inside.
"Was that a mistake?" he stammers. "Did…did you want…should we be keeping whatever we're⏤" Now she's sure she can hear him wince. "Did you want low-key?"
Kate sighs. When she speaks to him her voice is soft. "Rick, it's fine. The flowers are beautiful. And I'm sure everyone will be too busy looking at the bride to notice that our buttonholes match, in any case."
Castle isn't so sure her theory holds water, but he doesn't argue back because the next logical thought he has hits him like a thunderbolt: Kate Beckett is going to make a stunning bride one day.
He quashes the jolt of excitement and reckless impulsiveness that arises hot on the heels of that image to say, "So long as you're comfortable. That's all that matters. I…" He hesitates.
"What?"
"I want us to have fun today," he confesses with a lot less swagger and a lot more sincerity than his usual joke-peppered style.
"I'd like that, too," Kate agrees warmly, glad that they are finally on the same page.
"Oh," he says, the hesitation back in his voice.
Kate presses the phone closer to her ear. "Mm? What is it?"
"There's one more thing you should probably know."
Now Castle is definitely cringing, and there's a long pause that makes Kate distinctly uncomfortable. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Castle, what did you do?"
"It's nothing really."
"Castle?" she repeats, leaving no room for doubt that she wants to know.
He makes himself small, even though she can't see him, when he takes a deep breath and says, "I've arranged a car to pick you up." When she doesn't immediately chastise him, he hurries to flesh out his explanation. "Then you can stop by the loft and pick me up and we can go to the wedding together as planned. That way we can enjoy ourselves at the reception and not have to worry about drinking and driving later."
"That's…considerate," she says, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. "What brought this on? The car? The flowers? You're not planning any other grand gestures, are you?" she asks, laughing a little nervously.
"I jumped too far ahead yesterday," he admits, sounding surprisingly grown-up and contrite.
Kate laughs. "And this is you walking things back?"
"Yeah. Is it not working?"
"Oh, Castle," she sighs.
"I don't want to make you mad at me. Not today."
"Rick, I'm not mad. Far from it. I'm just sorry I have you walking on eggshells all the time. The flowers are sweet. The car is sweet. I'll see you at one. Okay?"
He makes a happy sound, mumbles something about needing time to get ready, then he ends the call just as a thought occurs to Kate and she cries out, "Wait! Castle, please tell me you didn't rent some flashy stretch limo?"
But he's already gone. She'll just have to wait and see.
By noon, Kate has finished her most pressing reports and she's fidgety as hell. She goes to the ladies room to change into her dress and touch up her hair and make-up. She's just returned to the bullpen when the desk sergeant calls up to let her know that her ride has arrived. Kate braces herself to ask, "Is it…did he…?"
"Castle send this car for you?" the desk sergeant asks.
She steels herself. "Yes. Am I going to be able to live it down?"
The desk sergeant sucks air through his teeth. "Gee. I dunno. How long 'til you do your twenty?" he says.
"I'm going to kill him," Kate mutters, adding, "Just…tell the driver I'll be right down."
The desk sergeant's jowls are shaking in time with his belly when he puts the phone down. "You owe me, Rick," he says into his cell phone.
"She believed you?" Castle asks, excited as a child.
"Oh, she sounded real mad. Doesn't suspect a thing."
"Perfect! I'll drop those Yankees tickets off next week," Castle promises. "Get me a picture of her face when she sees the car and I'll get you a meet and greet with Joe Girardi himself."
When Kate goes outside, there's a sapphire blue Bentley GT convertible sitting by the curb with the top down. The creamy calfskin leather glows like fresh-churned butter in the sunshine…and there is no driver in sight.
When she turns around to look for the desk sergeant, he's standing at the top of the steps with a set of keys dangling from his meaty fingertip.
"Where's the driver?" She looks past the sergeant at the precinct-house doors. "Did he go inside to take a leak?"
"Guy dropped the keys off. Asked if you'd be able to handle it. I almost cuffed the snot-nosed kid around the ear on your behalf, detective." He shrugs. "Anyway, those were my instructions. Take the keys and pass them on. Tempted to take it for a spin myself."
"Wait. What did you say?" Kate narrows her eyes. "What instructions? Who gave you instructions, Bill? Was it Castle? Did he call and ask you to set me up?"
The grin on the desk sergeant's face tells her everything she needs to know. "Nice surprise, huh?" he says, adding wistfully, "Wish the wife would do something like that for me."
Kate chokes on her own saliva and has to cough to clear her throat. "Castle's not my…no. I don't know what you've heard, or think you've heard, but we're just…"
Her fit of rationalizing and dissembling comes sailing to a halt when her hearing catches up with her mouth and her brain. Whatever she's about to deny would be a betrayal of them both, so she shuts up and just takes the keys from Bill with the sweetest of smiles. She's more than grateful when he ignores her emotional outburst and simply stands quietly watching her load her things into the trunk.
The Bentley is gorgeous, beautiful, with paintwork the dark navy color of sapphires. When the sun hits the doorframe, the bright spark of blue reminds her of Castle's eyes; she is doomed. She trails her fingertips lightly over the gleaming surface and then she reaches down to open the driver's door. As she settles behind the wheel, she looks up to see Sergeant Bill Hannigan, a man not known for his sentimental side, watching her with a soppy grin on his face…and his iPhone raised.
Kate starts the car, immediately admiring the smooth sound of the engine. She checks that she's got a handle on all of the controls, and then she slowly eases out of the parking spot to head for Castle's loft. As soon as she's safely in the conga line of slow-moving traffic inching down Broadway, she calls him on her phone.
"You like the car?" he says without preamble, adding, "And don't pretend otherwise," before she can even respond. "I have inculpatory evidence, detective."
She laughs because she can't help herself today as they fall back on their old shtick, which is comforting because it feels so natural.
"What evidence, Castle? And who says it's even admissible? If we're in discovery, and I think it's safe to say that we are," she adds a little suggestively, "you'd better release it to me now."
"Well, since you asked so nicely. I wouldn't want to risk a Brady violation," Castle says cleverly.
Oh, he thinks he's so smart.
"Ah, except the Brady doctrine only applies to exculpatory evidence, counselor, required to be handed over by the prosecution," Kate informs him tartly.
"Then you do realize you just admitted your own guilt, detective?" Castle crows.
"You wish! And just who's the defendant in this case anyway?" Kate counters. "I wasn't the one doing the setting up."
"You know you're so hot when you use that smart mouth against me, Beckett," he says with a voice that sends shivers racing around Kate's body.
Kate's eyes widen when she glances to her right, horrified to realize that the guy in the next car has heard Castle's side of the conversation over the loudspeaker. The stranger gives her a wink and she looks away, jamming on her sunglasses, determined not to blush.
"Hey, look. You're breaking up. I've gotta go. Be there in ten," she promises, quickly ending the call before Castle can say anything else that's meant for her ears only.
A gap finally opens up in the traffic, and she steps on the gas.
Eduardo, the doorman, is waiting outside Castle's building, guarding a parking spot reserved for Kate, ready to hold the keys until they leave for Staten Island.
When Kate arrives on Castle's floor, the front door of the loft is ajar. She lets herself in, her high heels echoing across the wooden floor of the empty living space.
"In here," she hears Castle call out from what she guesses is his bedroom.
"Oh, sure. I'll amuse myself out here," she calls back, assuming he's putting the finishing touches to whatever he's wearing and just needs a minute.
But his head pokes around the door and he smiles at her. "Hey. No, I meant, come in here."
Kate feels her face getting warm again and she inwardly chastises herself for behaving like a thirty-year-old virgin around him now that lines are in the process of being redrawn. What is wrong with her?
"You want me to come into your bedroom?" she asks. And yeah, she damn well is blushing. Shit! She looks at her watch. "We're due at the church in an hour. You know what traffic can be like…"
She stops talking when she becomes aware of him laughing. At her. "I'm delighted you'd think I'd try to seduce you when we're on the clock, Beckett. But when we get there, I know I for one want to make sure we take our time. That okay with you? Can you hold yourself in check a little longer?"
Kate rolls her eyes and shakes her head as walks towards him. He stops laughing to devour her with his eyes as she does so.
"Can I just say, and don't get the wrong idea, or rather do…anyway, you look hot as all hell in that dress. You're stunning, Kate," he says with so much sincerity that when she reaches him, all she can do is caress his face and reach up to kiss him softly.
Someone eventually murmurs, "We're going to be late," and reluctantly they pull apart.
"What do you need?" she asks, her voice tight with emotion.
Castle squeezes her shoulder. "Help me pick out a tie? Alexis usually weighs in, but she's out with that boy, so…"
Kate smiles, her heart melting at being asked. "Always happy to help," she says, taking the hand he offers and following him into his bedroom for the first time.
His personal sanctuary is exactly as she'd always imagined it: dark, masculine colors, but warm and luxurious, too, with a softness that confirms she is going to enjoy getting to know him in here when the time comes. She is going to enjoy it very much.
He seems amused as he watches her looking around and taking everything in, but then he tugs on her hand to draw her inside his closet and, oh my, could she do with one of these!
She trails her hand along a rail of very familiar sports coats and expensive suit jackets, feeling the lux fabric of some of them slip through her fingers for the first time, though she has often spent time with her partner wearing these very clothes.
He leads her to a set of specially designed drawers where row upon row of silk ties are curled up into a roll and displayed.
"Which one?" he asks, enjoying the look of wonder on her face as her fingers dance over the coils of woven silk.
She glances at him, her face lit up like a kid in a candy store. "There are so many. But I never get to see you wear a tie," she laments, revealing rather a lot with her tone if nothing else.
Castle shrugs. "Not to the precinct, maybe. But I wear them to meetings, sometimes signings, events. What can I say? I have a weakness for neckties."
Kate raises an eyebrow. "Among other things."
Silently, he moves behind her, slipping his arms around her waist as she scans them carefully. He moves her hair aside to kiss her neck and Kate groans so loudly in the quiet of the closet that it sounds obscene. "If you ask nicely, I'll wear a tie for you any time, any place, anywhere, detective."
"Kiss me like that again and I may just have to tie you to the bed with some of these. Now, scoot," she says, elbowing him in his midsection as she wriggles to free herself.
Castle chuckles, smoothing his hands over her hips to straighten her dress before reluctantly letting them drop to his sides as he steps back to give her some room.
"Time's running away with us," he says, accepting the tie she finally presents to him with some ceremony, draped over her arm like a vintage bottle of wine or a samurai sword.
She watches closely and without hiding the fact while he stands in front of the mirror to put the tie on. When he fumbles the knot, he complains that she makes him nervous, and Kate thrills at the sexual power this simple confession confers upon her.
She felt like a wife when she helped him pick out that tie, and he feels like her husband as he gingerly pins the corsage to her dress in the seconds before they leave.
How long will they carry on pretending that they are not yet what they have already become? Because somewhere down the road they went from being one another's work spouse to being married in all but the eyes of the law, without ever needing rings and flowers, a suit or a dress.
TBC...
A/N: Many thanks to those who are still reading and reviewing this story. I'm taking my lead from the title and going for a Slow Burn. Liv