A/N: To the people who have left reviews. Thank you. Very much. I haven't written fanfic (or anything) for the better part of a decade and suddenly this is spilling out of me. I appreciate each and every review, follow and favourite. I hope I'm capturing some part of an early Beckett and Castle that you can believe in.
She had expected his signature, at best a "to Kate", or perhaps a "dear Beckett". She hadn't expected what she saw. Not words. Instead, just a number. His phone number.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
Rick is sitting in his study, laptop open, fingers resting upon the keyboard, still. He misses the days his fingers flew across the letters, making a mockery of qwerty. These days it seems like every word is a struggle, and he finds himself writing variations on the same death scene over and over. But instead of it being a victim Derrick could investigate, the scene is Derrick's. He hasn't admitted it to anyone at Black Pawn yet, least of all Gina, but he is done with Derrick. So very done. Multiple book contract be damned. As far as he's concerned, this is the last one.
Gina, he contemplates. This could be a surefire way to be certain she was as done with him as he was with her and Derrick both. Killing off Derrick might be the easiest way to get her to stop calling. Although, he mused, he was relieved that each of her recent phone calls in the last week had been cool on her end- she hadn't shied away from harassing him for the Storm chapters he owed her, but she had held her tongue about their disastrous date the week before.
And damn, he thinks. It had been a week and he was still seeing Kate's face, her sad eyes, every time he closed his eyes. His mystery woman. Every time his phone had rung he'd leapt at it, hoping for an unfamiliar number. Every time it had been Alexis, or his mother, or Gina. Once it had been Meredith.
Ugh. He made a face, replaying that conversation in his head. Meredith had been babbling about seeing Alexis more, which in theory was a solid plan since he wanted his daughter to know her mother. But in reality, Meredith was at best unreliable and at worst, downright neglectful, so no, he did not foresee a time in the near future that he would willingly put Alexis on a plane to L.A. by herself. He sigh, aware that this meant he would have to fly with Alexis across the country soon in order to placate Meredith. It meant he would take a week showing Alexis around Los Angeles, meeting up with Meredith a handful of times, and it meant he would be the one to deal with the fallout in the following weeks as his nine year old asked him directly and indirectly why her mother wasn't interested in being a mom.
He had to admit to himself, the chances of his mystery woman calling were getting slimmer by the day.
Kate wasn't going to call him. She wasn't. What had happened was an anomaly. So she'd had a weird night. Met her favourite (hot) author, had her book signed. Never mind he'd only left his number instead of a blase-slash-inspiring message. She wasn't going to call him because she'd met him for all of five minutes, and he'd been on a date with another woman. She was no stranger to page six- his reputation preceded him- and she was going to ignore his advances. No, she was not going to be another one of Rick Castle's conquests, thank you very much. It was just (and she rolled her eyes at herself) … the fleeting feeling of calm she'd felt as she'd stared into his eyes as she thanked him for the drink… she just wanted to recreate that peace. If she could. But, she reminded herself, she couldn't. Because she wasn't going to call him.
Kate's week had been rough, but not rougher than usual. NYPD uniforms worked long hours at the best of times, and Kate wasn't the best at taking down time when it came along. There was always more paper work, and the more hours you clocked in the precinct the more you heard, the easier it was to make sure you were the one the detectives gave the work too. This week she'd actually been pulled from burglary and put on a homicide. Standing around keeping the press away from the crime scene wasn't much, but it was something. It was a big case, the wife of a prominent business man had been found dead in the park in apparent mugging and she was desperate to get in on it, take a look at the time line. It meant being her best, making sure the lead detective knew she was there. But this week she'd been torn. Her drive was there but there had been moments, she had to admit to herself, mere moments, in which she was distracted. By the conversation she was having with herself on repeat. In which she was sure she wasn't going to call him.
Damn it. She wasn't calling. She wasn't. She sigh. She was so going to call him.
Rick's contemplating Plan B. Combing over the details in his mind. He knows her name, first and last. That's obviously the key to this case. He knows she has dark hair and dark eyes, that she's sexy as hell, that she was eating alone at an Italian restaurant. His brain screams- why was she alone? She drinks red wine, and she's possibly enough of a fan that he flustered her and she left without eating. (Gina was not impressed when he paid her bill as well as theirs.) So it's not nothing, and he knows the mayor and he guesses the mayor can help him out with finding him a detective who could possibly lend a hand in tracking down his mystery woman. Especially since he has her name. So he's all ready to move on to plan B, when his phones rings. And his heart leaps as he sees he doesn't recognise the number.
"Hello." He's trying for sexy and aloof. He's met with silence on the other end. "Hello?"
"Hi." She's silent again, but he knows it's her. He imagines her biting her lip. Like she had in the restaurant. Kind of vulnerable, yes, but mostly sexy.
"Beckett? Kate? I was just formulating plan B!" He sounds delighted, now.
"Plan B? Wha- I…" She pauses. "What do you mean?"
"Why, Kate. I was formulating plan B. It seemed like plan A- get you to call me- wasn't going to work- so I was coming up with a plan B. Of how to find you. Maybe with a detective!"
"O-kay." He hears her hesitation, and something that sounds like a laugh. "Well, I guess your plan A worked out. Because here I am. Calling you. And I have no idea why."
He has a few ideas why, and they don't involve clothing, but he bites his tongue. She's taken a week to call him and he's not used to waiting that long. Or at all. So he doesn't want to scare her away. "Can I buy you a drink, Kate? Maybe tonight?" She's silent again, for so long that he pulls the phone away from his ear to check they're still connected. "Kate?"
"Not a drink," she says, finally. "And not tonight. I'm working. But I'm taking a break in an hour, if you want to meet me for a coffee?"
"Coffee," he agrees. "I can do coffee. Where do you want to meet?"
She tells him, and hangs up. And he feels like a kid on Christmas day.
Kate wasn't sure what she hoped to achieve by meeting him on her break. In her uniform. But she sure wasn't getting any work done, so forcing herself to take the lunch hour and meeting Richard Castle at the same time seemed like a way to kill two birds with one stone. So she paused before she entered Remy's, and looked around to see if any of her colleagues were there. She sees Michaelson at the counter, ordering coffee, but no one else. She unpops the top button of her shirt and pushes the door open.
He's sitting in a booth already. He beams at her as she walks in, and she is struck by how blue his eyes are. And how easy it would be to get lost in them. Focus, Beckett, she tells herself, and smiles back at him.
"You're a cop!" He looks ready to jump out of his skin. "That is so cool."
Kate chuckled. "That impresses you, huh?" She's had a few guys hit on her while she's in the uniform, she knows it does it for some people. She can't say that's not a draw of the job. She doesn't really consider herself beautiful, but she thinks she's pretty on a good day, and she's happy to be considered hot. Her plan is to make detective, but if paying her dues as a uniform has other advantages, she'll take them.
He signals for a waiter, and they order. She'd planned on just getting a coffee, but she left the restaurant last week without eating, so the last thing she wants is for him to think she doesn't eat.
He's still beaming as he explains, "I'm a mystery writer. I love cops! What cases are you solving at the moment?"
What's the harm, she wonders. Of course, the cases are confidential, but she supposes she could share just a little. (She looks around again, this place is close to the precinct and she doesn't want anyone to overhear her breaking confidentiality.) "So, I've been pulled onto a homicide this week- a mugging gone wrong-"
"I read about that! She was mugged in the park, right? Is that the case? Matthews' wife?" His enthusiasm is palpable.
Hmm. Telling him about this might be a mistake. He's probably not going to be satisfied with the bare bones of the case. "Right. So we're looking around for… suspects." God. She has to shut this down. She cannot discuss this case beyond what she's already said with a civilian. "We're investigating every angle."
He looks thrilled. "Investigating every angle. Of course." He nods. "So, what leads have you got?" She had thought he was trying to get in her pants. She was thinking about letting him. Instead it appears he want to pump her for information about the case. A draw card she didn't even know she had, to be honest, because most of the people who are attracted by her uniform don't want any back story. Of course, this is the man who bought her a drink across a crowded restaurant and forced his number on her- Kate flushes as she recalls how inappropriate this whole thing is.
"Castle! Rick. I actually can't discuss this case with you. It's kind of classified." She grits her teeth, takes a deep breath. She is sitting here in Remy's, drinking coffee with a man she had sort of (completely) planned to seduce, who she thought had wanted to seduce her- but he's so distracted he's like a five year old and she cannot keep sitting here if he is going to get so into this case and ignore her so thoroughly. She casts her mind around for another topic, but it's futile.
"Castle? You're calling me Castle. Like, a cop thing? How you introduced yourself as Beckett? That is so hot!"
Seriously? That's what turns him on? She rolls her eyes. "Yes, Castle. Like a cop thing. Except you are not a cop, and I can't discuss this case with you. Besides, it's pretty open and shut. It's just a mugging. Wrong place, wrong time, and suddenly Aaron Matthews is a widower. It happens." She doesn't mean the ice in her voice to be so obvious, but the bitterness is there. These wrong place, wrong time cases are the ones that get to her. But if Castle hears the bite he ignores it, opening his mouth again, and speaks slowly, obviously thinking aloud.
"Suddenly a widower, hmm? And what if, for our Mr. Matthews, it's not so sudden?"
"What do you mean?" Kate's curious in spite of herself.
"Well, as you know, I get out and about a bit…"
"Uh-huh. Different woman on your arm for each event. I'm aware." She purses her lips, narrows her eyes.
"Just how big a fan are you, Beckett?" He raises his eyebrows at her. "As I was saying. I have had occasion to meet both Aaron Matthews and his wife more than once. And not once did I ever see them look happy to be in the same room as each other. In fact, I have the very strong impression that he didn't care for her at all. If you know what I mean." He's smirking at her.
"And if everyone we've interviewed in relation to this case said their marriage was fine?"
"I, Beckett, am a writer. I watch people. I see things. I observe. It's my job. So I know I'm right, no matter what he paid to everyone you've interviewed in this case. Tell me, what was missing- her purse, jewellry?" His eyes are sparkling. She looks up at him and has to look away- damn they are blue. And suddenly, in spite of herself, she's enjoying this conversation, and the rules don't matter quite as much to her anymore as she leans in to hear more of his theory. "It seems to me that you might want to look a bit deeper into his financials, Officer."
The hour passes all too quickly. Kate's surprised by how much she's enjoying this, and how easy it is to be around Rick Castle. Her attraction to him is undeniable and she keeps catching him looking at her, so she can only assume the feeling is mutual. But, it's time to disentangle herself, and get back to work. She glances at her watch. Actually, she's kind of going to be late, but she's not worried- it will be the first time in a long time that she's simply taken a long lunch. "So…"
"So."
"So, it's time for me to head back. Share some of these theories with the team." She finds herself blushing at that. That he knows she's taking his ideas seriously.
"Really?" His eagerness is almost adorable. "Can I come?"
"Yeah, right. Sure. Come into my precinct, and really, tell everyone your theories, and while you're at it, tell them all about how I broke confidentiality to tell you all this."
"Really?"
Kate groans. "No, Castle. Not really. Hell no, in fact. God! Are you always this… eager?"
He laughs. "Oh, you've seen nothing yet." He leans further in toward her. "So… can I see you again? Take you out on a real date?"
Kate hesitates, and the feeling of fear is in the pit of her stomach. "I guess I'd have to think about it." She's shaking her head as she stands up and turns to go, turning back for just a second. "I've seen you on a real date, Castle. I'm not sure I want to go out with someone who gives his number to other people when he's on a date."
She's hears him calling after her, "Not my finest moment, Beckett," but she's opening the door without another glance behind her and hurrying up the street before he can catch her.
