Beckett reaches the house phone on the fourth ring and snatches it up, but is still in the distracting process of swatting ineffectively at the author trailing closely at her back with her other hand. Strong fingers curl at her sides, slowing her pace and sliding smoothly over her t-shirt. His thumbs push the fabric upwards against the small of her back, flirting with a view of her swimshorts-clad backside. She dances lithely out of reach again, but the warmth of his touch lingers behind as if he'd branded her flesh. "Get away, you heathen. I'm not showing it to you."
"But I guessed!"
She snorts inelegantly. "You guessed that it was the image of a USB docking port stamped above my ass." With a short skid on the hardwood floor she whips an about-face at the foot of a broad stone hearth to face him squarely.
"You never actually said I had to guess correctly to earn a peek." He'd stopped when she did, but now eases a pace forward like a panther carefully stalking prey, blue eyes half closed with pleased anticipation beneath the inclined angle of his brow. "I'm a stickler for fine print, you know. Hazard of the profession."
Never in her life has she seen herself as anyone's quarry. Kate points to her right with a sharp snap of her fingers. "I'm gonna 'stickler' you with this fireplace poker if you don't go away. Finish making us lunch."
Castle backs off a pace, another, but glowers at her as he goes. "This conversation isn't over, Allie."
The detective shoos at him, her tongue licking across the edges of her teeth as she flaunts her victory. A twinge of realization has her calling after him. "And don't call me that!" It's slightly unnerving how easily he slipped that alias under her radar.
A tinny voice issues a long, drawn out, "Hello?"
Beckett glances down at the phone at her side, winces as she lifts it to her ear. "Lanie?"
The trace of feigned testiness is overshadowed by good humor. "Damn, girl. Yes. Hello."
"Sorry. I was hip-deep in a battle with a man-child."
A fleet chortle comes through the line. "So I heard. I'd ask how the trip is going, but if you're already talking about showing him your tattoo, that's answer enough, isn't it?"
"I'm not showing him," Kate grouses, and ruefully pushes her fingers into her hair, combing the mass of it back into a messy perch atop her head. She kicks a bare foot out towards Rick, who's peeking back at her around the edge the refrigerator door. As you were, brute. "He's seen enough for one day."
"Oh really?"
"Yes, really. Uh. Don't get any ideas, Lanie. It's not like that."
The other gives a wordless, dubious, "Mmmhmm." The sound of city traffic comes through the line. "I'm feeding my plants," the medical examiner explains, "bear with me, honey. And don't even think of stopping there. What exactly did he see? And what was that 'Allie' business?"
Beckett sighs. The sound terminates in a huff. "We went down to the beach earlier."
"Ooh! Did you wear the bikini I picked out for you? Wait, no. He wouldn't still be guessing if you had."
The detective lets her hair fall with a smack of her palm against her forehead. "I don't know how you snuck that obscene scrap of a thing back into my bag, but I'm not wearing that muffin-splitter." She's peripherally aware of Rick looking up sharply at that, but quickly bending back to his task. "No, I'm wearing the one that I packed." With a plain white t-shirt on over it presently, though the chill that prompted its addition has since passed.
"So, what, the black bikini and those little boyshorts? Still very cute. Okay, continue, please."
"Thanks. Well, uh, the top is a bit of an older one. It's one I bought before I had someone around who decided it was his raison d'être to fatten me up with an endless surplus of sweets and carbs."
"You're welcome," comes an unrepentant reply from the other room.
"Oh lordy," her besty drones unsympathetically. "Don't even start with me, you scrawny thing. Do you know how many women would kill to have their weight-gain ratio itself to their boobs the way yours does? Savor those genetics. Meanwhile, I'm doing more squats than a one-armed juggler." Kate grinned despite herself. "So, what happened?"
"Huh? Oh, nothing. I lost my top, that's all."
Lanie sounded like she was smiling. "You lost it, huh? Sure, honey."
"I did! The waves were fairly calm, but one big bastard rolled in while I wasn't looking. The top was a little tight, like I was saying, so the strings didn't have enough slack near the knot. Then bam!"
"And your writer was right there to see?"
"Of course!"
A hushed titter of amusement came through the phone. "What'd you do?"
Beckett scrunched her lips with mild regret at the recalled images. "I squealed like a little girl, threw my arms around myself, and dropped into the water like a goddamn anchor was tied around my ass." She heard Castle's deeper laugh from the kitchen. It sang counter-point to the melody of the M.E.'s matching reaction.
When she'd calmed, the woman managed a breathy, "What'd he do?"
"What'd he do? Smug sonuvabitch smiled at me as cool as can be, as if he saw them everyday, and asked, 'Shall I fetch you the tanning lotion for those fair ladies?'" Castle shook his head at her attempted impersonation of his voice.
"Oh my god," the other issues, the words quivering. "That's good." Kate could manage only a disgusted grunt in reply. "Aw, don't pout. Since when are you shy anyhow?"
"Since when does the definition of being outgoing include dropping my top?"
"Uh-huh. I see what you're doing, twisting my words. That ain't gonna work. I've seen you flag us down a few too many late-night cab rides home from girls' nights."
"That was one time!" she fires back in hushed protest.
The nosy-parker beyond them asks, "What was one time?"
"Me telling you to mind your own beeswax in there, buster," Kate fires back at him. "Because if I have to make the point twice, I'm coming in there to do it the writer's way: showing instead of telling."
"Promises, promises."
"Point's still valid in either case," Lanie chimes in. "What's the 'Allie' part then? That's a weird choice for a pet-name."
"Lanie..."
"No. Come on. It can't be worse than flashing Castle. Or is it?"
"Don't sound so hopeful. It's all fruit of the poisoned tree," the other replies. "He wouldn't help me look for my top. Well, he did by the end actually, because he found it washing ashore. But at the time he wouldn't. Oh no, he was far too busy running back to the beach for his phone to take a picture. Not of my tits, mind you, I'll give him that much credit and only that much. No, he was just tickled to death by watching me pawing around blindly. It's not funny, Lanie, jeez. Anyway, uh, I was feeling around for it with my hands and trying not to, you know, put on a show at the same time. So, in the picture all you can see is the top half of my face peeking out of the water. 'You look like a pissed off alligator' he tells me. Between rounds of laughing of course, the bastard."
"That's no way to talk about the guy making your food."
She crinkles her nose, but ignores him and waits patiently for the other woman's loud unfurling of humor to fade. Again. "So, heh, Alligator, Allie. I gotcha. You poor thing. That's gonna stick with you forever."
"Tell me about it," Beckett grits. "Ugh. Better yet, don't. That's why I had you call me on this line though. I chased the fucker down, which wasn't easy while also being my own bra. But I did it, and I threw his phone into the water. Which turned out to be my phone. Ugh. It's been a morning, Lanie. How're things there?"
"I'm home on a long lunch break. There ain't squat happening here worth dishing about. I'm living vicariously right now, so make mama proud and gimme s'more details. What's his place like?"
Beckett turns, looking over the expansive spaces about her. "Oh God, Lanie. It's all hardwood flooring, white walls and ceilings. Every border and cornice has a tasteful bit of flourish, nothing is overwrought. I think there are more windows than actual wall. By ten o clock the whole house was full of light. It's gorgeous."
"It sounds it."
"I dunno who designed it, but they probably could've thrown in one or two more rooms on all three floors. The count was intentionally limited in order to give what rooms are present more square footage. The bedroom I'm using upstairs is the size of my apartment's living room."
"And the bathroom is no mere shitter," Castle adds, and she chokes around a contained laugh.
The M.E. thankfully skirts around the topic of the sleeping arrangements. "So it's bachelor central, huh?"
"Not so much, no. I expected that too, but even with the neutral color theme and room sizes, it's cozy. There's lots of art, pictures, and furniture. Very people oriented spaces where you'd imagine seeing friends or family."
"Wow. That really does sound great. What kinda playboy did you run off with, girl?"
"Mm, it's definitely a question mark at this point." She weaves between a pair of chairs and follows the main walkway back through the living room to join Castle. He's standing at the island. A wheat sub roll is laid out on a pale green preparation mat, halved lengthwise. Also present are a modest range of condiments and a few baggies of sandwich meats. "He brought me here to show me something," she comments into the phone. "I don't know what yet. But it's something big." Rick doesn't even look up despite the topic of conversation.
Lanie gave a low, indecent laugh. "I bet it is."
"Not that, jeez. Not even close. But, uh, that's big too."
"What?!"
"Lanie, ow." Oh yes, her shadow is very aware of the conversation despite looking busy. An eyebrow twitches and climbs even while he adds semicircle slices of provolone cheese to the bread.
"Don't gimme 'ow'. Gimme details!"
Beckett drops her forehead into her palm, sighs. "Uh, well, I woke up first this morning. You know me, can't sleep past six even without an alarm. So, after I was done with the morning rituals I killed an hour to myself by getting the coffee going and exploring while it was brewing."
"Katherine Houghton Beckett..."
"No, Lanie, look. This was one-hundred-percent accident, I swear. We got here late last night, so we didn't have the energy for a tour. I was just looking around. I didn't know where anything was, including the master suite. I just, uh, found it." She waits, but the other doesn't offer so much as a peep of interruption. "It was another closed door to me. I flung it open the way I had the other ones and trundled right on in. And there he was, au naturel."
Castle's mouth falls open some as he sends a startled look over at her. It's news to him. Her unexpected striptease on the beach wasn't their first brush with nudity that day. More like karmic retribution in action.
"He sleeps naked?" The M.E. sucks in a breath and expels a purely playful accusation, "That slut."
Kate tips her head back with a lilting laugh, her free hand lofting after to ineffectively hide one rosy cheek. "It's not funny, really. I don't think he slept well. The covers were all kicked around and rumpled." She pauses, wets her lips unconsciously while the man beside her purses his firmly and goes back to work. "All he had left was a sheet pulled up to his right hip."
"He sleeps on his left side?"
"Mmhmm, facing in."
"Why is knowing that hot? Wrong, but so hot. Don't stop."
Beckett tugged the collar of her shirt away from her body to fan at herself despite the mildness of the midday temperature. "You know, he'd told me last night that his bedroom was downstairs now that I'm thinking about it. I dunno why it didn't occur to me to be more careful. It's all very Freudian in hindsight. Anyway, I saw him there in bed and kinda seized up like a deer in a pair of headlights. I started backpedaling right on out again not three seconds later. It just happened to be two seconds too late. He didn't wake up, but he turned over onto his back."
Lanie grunted in anticipation.
Castle issued something similar from his throat, but his was definitely more a note of grim expectation.
"I, uh, knew what I was seeing even before it happened. Because the sheet just, well, it didn't do much to conceal the shape." She stopped, her eyes closing. "I can't believe I'm telling you this."
"Neither can I," Rick hisses aside at her.
"You're not," the other woman growls, "but you damn well better!"
"I saw it moving as he was turning, lifting up half-roused, and I knew in an instant that the sheet wasn't going to save me. It was like being in a cartoon: y'know when that coyote sees the shadow of a falling safe and realizes he's about to get wrecked?" She pauses as the other gurgles a strangled laugh. Rick snorts lightly, his shoulders quivering even as he shakes his head. "Sure enough, it slid free of the covers and out it flopped. It was like watching a whale falling back in the ocean. I heard the hollow kinda thunk it made against his belly. I felt as if it had hit me; honest to god, I flinched as if he'd swung it in a bestial slap against my cheek. I was dumbstruck." The author has his face buried in his hands at this point, but his upper half is shaking with mute laughter. It has to be. He's not modest enough for sobs of humiliation.
"Oh god," her besty murmured. She expels a swift, breathy laugh, but then a groan. "Okay, stop. Goodness freaking gracious. I can't listen to another word." But not a second later she demanded, "What'd you do?"
"I closed the door! And then I ran all the way back upstairs as if it that monster was right on my heels."
"Ugh! You bitch," Lanie simpered. "How can you end it there?"
Beckett unfurled a surprised, but also embarrassed laugh. "Oh hell. It was so wrong. But it happened so fast. A handful of seconds from blunder to flight, no more. I still feel...ugh, perverted. Guilty, even if it wasn't on purpose."
Castle looks askance at her between his fingers. His hands lower halfway around an expression slowly shifting from embarrassed surprise to include what she thinks is guarded interest.
"But you also felt a little thrilled," Lanie suggests knowingly.
The detective twinges in mute protest of the accuracy attached to the words. "Maybe more than just a little thrilled. God, Lanie, is that as messed up as it sounds? I'm sick, I know. A filthy peeping Thomasina."
"Honey, that's how I'd feel too, but chill. It would be perverted if you'd gone looking for it. An accident is just that."
"That helps a lot to hear. Like, an obscene amount. Thank you. I know what I was doing at the time, and what I had absolutely no intention of doing, but even so...part of me enjoyed it, which makes me feel like I participated somehow." It's more than curiosity now. Her flesh-and-blood companion looks...quietly fascinated.
The M.E. spills out a laugh, reeling her attention back to the phone. "Sorry. Really. You're fine, I promise. It's just now I've got this image in my head of you ogling his dick like a tensed up cat about to pounce on a toy mouse. Butt-wiggle and all."
"Lanie!"
The other could only laugh though, and soon both were. It settles gradually. "Oh, Lordy."
Kate sighs breathlessly. "I keep thinking about women I've heard talk about him in chance encounters during our cases, the way they kinda hounded after him. It seemed downright cold-blooded at the time. But now...no fucking wonder. I didn't know he was torturing the women of New York City's high society with that leviathan in his pants."
Castle grimaces again. He turns resolutely back to making the sandwich as a hint of crimson stains his cheeks.
"I'm so done," Lanie grunted. "I gotta go. Back to work, Kate, for at least five more hours! Thanks a lot!"
"I'm sorry! You asked."
"I did, and I'm feeling appropriately punished. I'd say be good, but honey, you be bad—all kinds of bad."
"Who, me? Bye. Love you." Beckett hangs up and exhales a deep breath. It feels better to have gotten that scene out of her head. There'll be hell to pay later for not also mentioning the kiss. A pair of amusing accidents is easier to talk about than the intentional rewrite of her and the author's relationship as they know it. For now, that belongs only to the two of them. "Funny ol' world, isn't it?" she offers while setting the phone aside on the counter.
"Certainly a reciprocative one today," he agrees with a low chuckle, adding turkey over the layer of ham. He looks askance at her a moment, shakes his head. "I can't believe you stood right here and said all that."
The answer seems clear enough, but she has to ask, just in case. "Did it bother you?"
"No," is the ready reply, clear and crisp with certainty. He moistens his lips, nods in self-agreement. "It was...odd, and embarrassing too, sure. But interesting. It feels like I was just given a peek behind the curtain at the wizard of Oz."
"Mm. We know what special attribute he gave you, don't we? Not ruby slippers," Kate sing-songs impishly.
"Seriously," the other continues, smiling as he does. She watches him reach to lay his right hand over her left. "Thank you. I see what you're showing me, you know? Same as I saw it last night."
"I'm not high society," Beckett ventures aloud, a bundle of nerves though the words emerge steady and normal. "Not by a mile. I'm as down to earth as it gets. Foul mouthed and minded. That's not just from working so long among the coarse mouths of other cops, or even criminals for that matter. It helped, no doubt, but I've always...It's always come more natural to say and do what I mean when I mean to. I'm no lady, Castle."
"You're authentic," he says, squeezing some at the appendage he's captured. "Sometimes that's classy and others not. That's so much better than any pretentious façade. Don't hide that from me, please. The way you are at work—it's clear why you need to be, and for a thousand different reasons, but primarily out of respect for the uniform and for yourself. It's more serious there." He sighs, but not heavily. He looks a little blown away. "I should have seen this coming. You've hinted at more. All this time I've been collecting your breadcrumbs, but to be honest, I wouldn't have imagined you knew how to be, or even wanted to be, so uninhibited and unguarded. It's...glorious."
Ugh. He's killing her right now. Of all the secrets she has, this is the one Beckett worries will prove too contrary to his lifestyle to allow them to work as a couple. It may yet. But he seems to genuinely enjoy her unflinching openness. It's scary how exciting that is, the idea of being herself fully and freely with him, the budding expectation that he can handle her unfiltered. "Sometimes its gets downright trashy," she's compelled to expound for him.
Castle's face tilts upwards with a brief, throaty chuckle. "I can't wait."
"Maybe it won't seem so charming if you have me on your arm at some fancy party and something nasty slips out."
"Are you kidding? I'm never taking you anywhere you can't be yourself. What party could compare?"
Beckett stops him in the middle of reaching for a knife to cut the sandwich in half. He meets her gaze and, slowly, his countenance turns as solemn as hers. "Time," she begins quietly, "is the final arbiter. You know that, obviously, maybe even better than me. I'm reiterating the point because it has a way of dulling the luster from the things we find shiny and pretty at the start of a relationship. There's only one real version of me, Castle. It's all I know how to be when I take off the shield. I can make myself behave, obviously, but I can't change the roughness of the truth that'll always be waiting beneath it. I could never be happy living a censored life to satisfy other people's expectations. That's no life at all."
Castle studies her for several seconds after she's finished speaking. At length he lowers his focus to his culinary efforts, which he halves with the blade and puts on two plates. There are Doritos and a couple pickle spears already there. As one is slid before her he meets her eyes again. "I won't make light of your concern by promising something I might not be able to deliver on later. Time does have that power, you're right. Forever is a romantic concept, but, sadly, just as unrealistic."
She smiles slightly, but doesn't attempt to interrupt.
"But Kate, don't hide from me. Not when we don't have to. We're both a part of this. It's just as likely that you'll wake up one day and find me insufferable. Or...maybe we'll go the rest of our lives enjoying what we found in one another." He lofts a forestalling hand before her widened eyes. "I'm not trying to freak you out with talk of the future. I'm simply saying it's a two-way street. We came here to unearth...terrible things. Maybe it'll be too much to reconcile with whatever image of me you've been carrying around thus far. We don't know. All we do can is take this one day at a time."
"One Dorito at a time," she confirms, crunching into one. He grins and nods.
They fall mutually silent for a time, focusing more on their meals. But their gazes stray often to the other, each teeming with questions, musings, none of which is coherent enough to be put into words. It is exciting, a thrill in her veins, but in a strange way that settles in quiet as a whisper and as looming as the ocean beyond the house's eastern delimitation.
"A whale," he says a while later, and shakes his head ruefully.
She grins broadly. "Don't saddle me with the blame for that one. I only borrowed the comparison already in popular use."
Work didn't give me time to catch up with you guys individually this go around, but I appreciate the kind words. The previous chapter'll stand as is, because you helped it make sense. So thanks for that too.
Also, heh, I feel behooved to note that the pet-name Rick uses for Kate is in no way factual in regards to the Allie to whom this story was dedicated (that I know of). John's name is already here, so it was just a fun way to include hers as well. Given the way it came about, however, it might linger per Lanie's prediction.
