Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters who appear in this story. Any other names, for characters or businesses, are fictional. Also, you'll recognize some dialog in this chapter.
A/N: Another split chapter! Lots of issues to address as we approach the end of the quarter. This chapter's a little odd compared to others as it has just two long conversations. If you're looking for intrigue, come back next week. If you're okay with people trying to get comfortable with each other, read on.
Week Thirteen (part one)
"This place is nice," Lanie says approvingly as she looks around the restaurant. "You must be feeling really guilty."
"Guilty?" Beckett asks as she scoots in, wondering about Lanie's take on their dinner.
"Isn't that why you're out with me tonight instead of Castle?" Lanie asks with a perched brow. "You're gonna tell me what's going on at work, right?"
"Lanie…," Beckett moans, wondering if she lasted even 15 seconds before losing control of this conversation. "Nothing's…," she starts to say before Lanie's look makes it clear that a denial won't work. The boys have been bad enough, wondering aloud about the nature of Montgomery's "family emergency" that drew him away from the precinct and coincided with Beckett's disappearance for a day. Esposito and Ryan aren't dumb – they saw Montgomery intercept Beckett and take off shortly thereafter. But they're treading lightly right now with her because of what's going on with Castle, so the questions have been easily avoided. Lanie, though…
"You gonna tell me, or do I need to start asking more questions?" the ME asks, sounding tough.
Raising an appeasing hand, Beckett adopts a tough tone of her own. "It's dangerous, Lanes," she says. "Very dangerous. Just give me some time, and please don't draw any attention to what's going on at work – there's too much of that already. I'll tell you about it as soon as I can. I promise it'll make sense."
Something in Beckett's tone seems to penetrate Lanie's fierce demeanor. She cocks her head and stares for a few moments before reaching out silently and clasping her friend's hand. Turning it, Lanie uses her finger to trace three letters into Beckett's palm.
"W-O-W?" Beckett says with a teasing tone, though her look is dire as she gives a small nod. It's the closest she can come to confirming Lanie's traced reference to "mom."
Lanie gives Beckett's hand a squeeze before pulling her hand back. With a deep breath, she tries to sound more upbeat. "Yes, wow. You're spending time with me instead of writer boy. That's a definite wow. Unless something happened…"
"Nothing happened," Beckett says while shaking her head. But then she realizes that she doesn't like the sound of that phrase in reference to what's going on with Castle, so she tries to correct herself. "Well, not nothing. Something, not nothing. Something, but not something bad."
"I can tell you're spending time with a writer," Lanie says as with a smirk, "that was practically poetry. So, it would be fair to say that something good happened." Smiling at Beckett's blush, she rubs her hands together in delight.
Blush deepening, Beckett's happy she at least selected a restaurant with a lot of ambient noise to mask this conversation. "Something good happened," she confirms with a whisper.
"Something really good?" Lanie purrs with a twinkle in her eye. "Like another 'walk' on the beach?" she asks, using air quotes to emphasize her sarcasm.
The reminder of her time on the beach with Castle, and the picture Alexis took, warms Beckett's cheeks. Taking a sip of ice water, she tries to get away with just a nod.
"Girl, you owe me details," Lanie demands. "I've heard more about this from Alexis than I have from you!" she complains. "Or is this a guessing game? Okay, we can play it that way. So," she says brazenly, just as their server arrives, "did you sleep with him?"
There's a moment of shocked silence following her question during which their waitress tries to pretend she didn't hear the question and Beckett pretends she's not here. The moment ends quickly, though, as Beckett chokes on her water.
"I'm gonna give you both a little more time," their blushing waitress says as she quickly backs away from the table, careful to stay out of range of Beckett's vigorous efforts to breathe.
After coughing for several minutes, Beckett finally gets herself under control. Once she's cleared her lungs, she fires a cross look at her friend. "Thanks for your discretion," she grumbles.
"Well?" Lanie replies brazenly, ignoring Beckett's complaint and awaiting an answer.
Beckett's thinking seriously about ignoring the question and redirecting the conversation, until she remembers a similarly uncomfortable outing with Lanie and the comment that confused her friend then. Deciding it might work again, she grins slightly as she looks across the table and comes clean. "I did sleep with him," she confirms with a nod as she watches her friend break out in a beaming smile. "But not the right way," she finishes with a smirk.
Looking like she's been slapped, Lanie sits back in her seat and fires off a cross look of her own. "Fine. I'm sorry if my question offended your delicate sensibilities. But you're killing me here. What happened?"
Happy with the apology, Beckett leans forward. The truth is, she wants to confide in her friend. It feels so good to have something hopeful to talk about. And while Lanie might've pushed a little too hard, she has been a great source of comfort and the single biggest help to Beckett as she sorted everything out.
"I stayed with him for a few days," she starts slowly, blushing again. "What's going on right now is terrifying, and for the first time I can remember," she says, looking up at Lanie proudly, "I asked for what I wanted. I told Castle that I felt safe at his place and he invited me to stay."
"And the sleeping…?" Lanie leads, anxious to get to the heart of the story.
"He was working nights again," Beckett continues her story. "He wanted me to wake him up when I got in so that he'd know I was safe, but…," Beckett trails off, shrugging and looking embarrassed again. "I crept into his bedroom and he just… he looked like home," she explains with a bashful shrug. "So, instead of waking him up, I crawled in with him."
"Dammit, girl," Lanie huffs as she delivers a light swat to Beckett's shoulder, using the other hand to dab at her eyes with her handkerchief, "you're supposed to save the sweet stuff for dessert," she complains as she tries to get herself composed. "For the record, I don't think that was the 'wrong' way."
"No, I said that to tease you," Beckett confesses with a small grin. "It was perfect."
As Lanie smiles and nods while continuing to wipe her eyes, Beckett waves to their waitress to let her know it's safe to approach. With embarrassed smiles all around, the ladies place their orders and pass their menus to the server who'll be the grateful recipient of a well-earned and generous tip.
"How was the loft?" Lanie asks a few minutes later after their drinks arrive.
"Wonderful," Beckett admits, then amends her answer when she sees her friend's playful look. "And not just for the naps. It was a good time for us – we just spent some time getting comfortable with each other."
"Just the two of you?" Lanie asks leadingly, as if expecting to hear about the challenges of visiting a busy household.
Instead, Beckett smiles. "Alexis and Martha were around, too. I enjoyed their company. They were careful to give us some private time, too. In fact…," she adds with a blush, pausing until Lanie gets impatient and waves for her to continue. "They both went a little overboard with the support. Martha kept offering wine or suggesting that climbing the stairs to my room was too much effort, encouraging me to just stay in Castle's room," she explains with rolling eyes while Lanie laughs.
"Was Alexis more subtle?" Lanie hoots.
"Only in comparison to her grandmother," Beckett confesses with a grin. "She kept asking me if the noise bothered me. I wasn't sure what she was talking about until she confided that she has earplugs so she can sleep without hearing anything," Beckett finishes with an embarrassed laugh, which Lanie joins.
Shaking her head, Lanie casts her friend a look of exasperation. "It sounds like you stayed in your own room, except for the naps," she surmises, watching Beckett nod in affirmation.
"I'm trying to be careful," she confesses. "Castle's heart is tender right now. He knows how I feel, not that crawling into his bed left much doubt. When he's ready, we'll move forward."
This comment makes Lanie sit back again as she looks at her friend. "I've gotta say, Kate, you surprise me." Prompted by Beckett's furrowed brow, Lanie tries to explain. "You just seem so calm about all this. You've been a wreck for months," she says, squashing Beckett's nascent objection with a fierce look. "And now you're just… peaceful and smiley." Then, looking at her friend, she has to add "And blushy."
"Blushy?" Beckett asks with a laugh. "Nice word. You're right, I guess," she says, taking another sip of wine. "It's strange. On the one hand, I'm terrified. This is for real, Lanes – there's no doubt about what we want or what we hope this relationship will be. That's a lot of pressure even without thinking about our pasts or the things going on now," she admits, looking daunted for a moment before she starts to smile again. "But on the other hand, I'm grateful. So grateful. I was this far," she says while holding her hand up with just a little space between her index finger and thumb, "from losing him, losing it all. I know how lucky I am."
"Damn," Lanie says a few moments later, exaggerating the surprise that she feels. "Do you realize that you – Detective Kate Beckett – just gave a speech about your emotions?" she gasps in awe, clutching at her heart like Castle does when feigning shock.
"It was hardly a speech," Beckett complains in reply, rolling her eyes exactly as she does when faced with the chest-clutching nonsense.
"I wasn't teasing," Lanie replies, before Beckett's incredulous looks makes her try a different tack. "Well, I was, but not to give you trouble. I'm allowed to be impressed and jealous, right?" she asks with a laugh. "You just look good, Kate. I think staying at the loft agrees with you. Tell me about it?"
"It was different than the last time I stayed," Beckett answers, thinking about her time there after losing her apartment. "Even with all the heavy stuff going on, or maybe because of it, we just took the time to relax around each other. Simple things, mostly – we'd read together, or I'd curl up with a book while he did some writing. He's practicing the piano again, so I'd snuggle into the couch and listen."
"Is that for that arson case?" Lanie asks, the small grin on her face reflective of imagining the scenes at the loft. "Javi told me about that. Did you get a piano lesson, too?"
Lanie knows she's hit paydirt when Beckett's rosy glow spreads again and her friend looks down. "Maybe," Beckett tries, laughing before Lanie even presses the point.
"If I remember Javi's description, that would've put you on Castle's lap with your hands on top of his while he played, right?" she asks, her hands and fingers moving as if playing an invisible piano in demonstration. "Sounds cozy."
"You have no idea," Beckett peeks up with a devilish smile. "Alexis walked in on us, though. I would've been embarrassed, except she was just so happy to see us together that I couldn't feel bad."
"Huh," Lanie replies. "I didn't get a picture of that one."
Rolling her eyes, Beckett smiles inside. She's not spoken to Alexis about it, but the young woman seems to be getting very protective of them and their budding relationship. After the teasing about the beach picture, Castle's daughter's been warmly accommodating. If Lanie asked for a picture now, Beckett's pretty sure that Alexis wouldn't play.
"She couldn't take pictures," Beckett says instead. "When she joined us, we moved into the kitchen to cook dinner. It was fun."
Lanie's only reply is a flat, disbelieving stare.
"What?" Beckett asks defensively. "I can cook."
Lanie's look doesn't change.
"Just because I don't cook often doesn't mean anything," Beckett tries again.
Still no change.
"Cooking for one's a drag," Beckett tries. "But when I want to make the effort…"
"Anything frozen, pre-made, or boiled after being poured out of a blue box doesn't count," Lanie cuts in, squelching Beckett's defense.
"Fine," Beckett finally capitulates with a huff. "I'm learning."
Lanie tries to hold her look, but it finally crumbles, leaving Lanie, then Beckett, laughing.
"You are such a brat," Beckett chuckles.
"Guilty," Lanie admits happily. She's about to say something else when she notices the waitress looking at them from afar, wondering if it's safe to approach. With a laugh and a wave, Lanie invites the woman over. Already, the discomfort from their earlier moment is converting to humor, leaving the ladies with smiles as well as their dinners.
"Just one more bratty question, then I'll let you relax," Lanie promises, though neither of them really believe that one question will be sufficient. "Okay, just a few. First, does he have a pole?"
"Excuse me?" Beckett asks, looking at her friend incredulously.
"In his bedroom," Lanie clarifies with a salacious look that suggests she wouldn't have been upset with an answer based on a different interpretation of her question. "You know, a fireman's pole? Not that it couldn't be used for other purposes…"
"No," Beckett says definitively, "there is no fireman's pole in his bedroom. And I'd thank you not to give him any ideas."
"Damn," Lanie says glibly. "There goes that fantasy. Okay, next question: if you stayed at the loft, does that mean you have a key to Castle's place?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.
Beckett's blush answers the question, but she articulates a reply, too. "Yes," she drawls out. "I have a new key." Lanie notices the reference to 'new,' so Beckett offers a terse explanation. "Castle changed the locks after the 3XK case, but I never took his old key off my ring." Noticing Lanie's deep breath, she jumps in again. "Which is something I'm not comfortable talking about."
Josh never had a chance, Lanie thinks to herself, imagining Beckett holding this memento on her key chain even as they got started and Castle was off with his ex-wife. "Okay," Lanie accedes in a gentle voice. "But I hope you get to the point where you can talk to Castle about it."
"Me, too," Beckett agrees.
"Next question," Lanie says bracingly to get them over the hopeful discussion of keys. "Have you made it to Remy's yet?"
Shaking her head, Beckett laments this answer. "Not yet. Every time we try, something comes up. But I'm not giving up, and we've spent time together in other places."
Nodding, Lanie keeps going, rushing the questions as it looks like her friend is losing patience. "Just two more. If your stay at the loft was so great, why aren't you still there?"
"I will be," Beckett promises in an unexpectedly confident tone. "We're not ready for that – haven't really earned it yet. But my few days there were a beautiful glimpse of what we can have if we do this the right way. I can imagine," she admits with a shy smile, "a day when I don't leave."
"Kate," Lanie says as she nods, looking at her friend with suspiciously wet eyes again, "you're my best friend and I'm so happy that things seem to be going so well. Here's my last question: what the hell are you doing here with me? Go get that man," she cheers with a smile and a teary huff.
"It's 'don't neglect our friends night,'" Beckett answers with a smile, looking a little emotional herself as she reaches out to clasp hands with her friend. "It was Rick's idea, and it's a good one. Especially considering someone's complaints to Alexis about being relegated to second-class citizen status."
"Javi didn't say anything about going out with Castle," Lanie says, looking confused.
"Espo wasn't invited," Beckett laughs, reclaiming her hand to take another bite of her dinner. "Castle took Winnie dancing before her trip to LA tomorrow."
Bolting back in her chair as if slapped, Lanie fires up immediately. "Hold up – writer boy's out dancing with another woman? Now? And you're okay with it?!"
"Settle down, Lanes," Beckett teases, using her friend's nickname to help reclaim her attention. "She's his sister," she says as she raises a finger, "she's gay," she raises another, "and I owe her," she concludes with a third finger. When Lanie's irate expression doesn't clear, Beckett tries to be a little more convincing. "I owe her, Lanes. Castle was in a dark, dark place when he left the precinct. He could've gone back to his old ways. He could've found someone new. He could've moved away or gotten into all sorts of trouble," she says, her own expression growing somber as she thinks about the possibilities. "But he didn't. He made a friend who helped him. A friend who needed his help, too. Their friendship kept him safe while we were finding a way back to each other."
"And you're okay with this?" Lanie says, still looking doubtful. "You trust him?"
"Wholly and completely," Beckett replies. "Winnie might not be my biggest fan," she admits, "but we understand each other. I won't begrudge them their friendship. Besides," she says, releasing a full smile, "I think he might owe Winnie just as much thanks for us getting together as I owe you. Thanks, Lanes."
Reaching again for her friend's hand, Lanie sniffs even as she's squeezing tight. "You're welcome, Kate." Then, looking a little playful again, she cocks her head. "Does this mean we're sisters?"
Looking through the peephole, Beckett's pleasantly surprised to see Castle beaming at her from the other side of her door.
"Good morning," she says as she nearly tackles him, wrapping him in a fierce hug. "I didn't think I'd see you this morning. Winnie's off to LA, then?"
"Wheels up and on her way," Castle nods before bending down to deliver a sweet kiss.
Humming into the kiss before realizing that she should probably not subject her neighbors to the sight of her mauling Castle, Beckett laughs and pulls him into her apartment. She's surprised, though, when he starts to resist as she reaches out to close the door.
"I realized what we were doing wrong," he whispers surreptitiously, slowly reaching for the door and pushing it most of the way closed. "We need to be sneaky if we're going to make it to Remy's without some disaster getting in the way. Shhhh!"
Smiling wide at his antics, Beckett jumps into action, opening the closet and reaching quickly for a pair of low heels.
"Interesting choice, Beckett," Castle notes in an odd tone. Looking at him, she sees him looking down to his own feet, which are clad in blocky leather boots. Biker boots.
"Are you serious?" she asks, unable to keep the smile from her voice.
"Only if you can keep up," he answers with a nonchalant shrug. "If you're worried about it, we can take your cruiser."
"Talk, talk, talk," Beckett challenges in reply as she haphazardly tosses her heels back into the closet and grabs her boots instead. "I'm a cop, Castle. I need evidence."
"Not evidence that I'm licensed," he says with a raised brow. "I know you've already confirmed that."
"How?" Beckett asks, pausing in her efforts with her boot. Ryan, she bets. Or maybe Espo. They were both guilty as hell about something the day they pulled the DMV records for Castle and Winnie.
"You just told me," he grins back smugly, happy with his little interrogation maneuver. "Hurry up. You clearly need some coffee if that old trick worked."
Huffing again at his playfulness, Beckett can't muster the scowl she'd normally use in a situation like this. And she's okay with that. Castle's here, he's in a spirited mood, and they're finally heading to Remy's. She can put up with a little nonsense for all that.
Popping to her feet, Beckett stretches to reach her helmet on the top shelf of her closet, where it's languished for the past few months. She startles when she feels his hands on her sides, then relaxes into his grip as she slows her efforts to draw out the contact. Finally spinning in place with helmet in hand, she nearly swoons (ridiculous!) when he pulls her in for another kiss. For as careful as they've both been lately, she's joyous that he's feeling so comfortably and openly affectionate.
Beckett leads them out of her apartment and the building by the hand, reveling in the opportunity to show some affection in return. She's even happier when his question gives her another opportunity. "Where's your bike, Beckett?"
"Don't need it," she replies, even though she'd love the opportunity to go out for a ride. "You're going to show me how it's done, right? Besides," she adds with a saucy wink, "I'm hoping I can cop a feel on the way to Remy's. If I can get my arms around that chest," she says, using her free hand to rub a playful swirl around his sternum.
"I knew the bike was a good idea!" he crows, pulling a chuckle from them both as they round the corner of her building to approach the motorcycle parking spots.
"Oh, Castle, it's beautiful," she croons. "You did an incredible job," she compliments as she drops his hand to circle the bike, on which the long process of restoration is apparently complete. Deep black where not chromed, the old bike looks resplendent, transformed. Martha was wrong about clumsy metaphors, she thinks to herself as she remembers how Castle looked when she invited him to Florida.
But he doesn't look that way now. Not with that pout.
"You know I fixed it up?" he asks, disappointed that he doesn't get to tell the story.
"Remember when we visited the loft to talk to your mother about the Temptation Lane case?" Beckett asks, noticing the flush on his cheeks as he remembers their awkward exchanges then. "I noticed the helmet and asked Alexis about it when we were talking about colleges. She was still so annoyed by your reversal after the great Vespa debate that she sold you out like that," she says, rapping on her helmet. "She even sent me a picture."
"Bet it wasn't as good as the last picture she sent," Castle replies wearing a small smile.
"It was a good picture," Beckett defends. "But I don't think anything can match the beach picture," she proclaims before reaching out to him to recreate their pose.
This time there's no question about who produced the throat-clearing noise to prompt their separation as a deeply offended older woman harrumphs past them on the sidewalk, the ridiculous ball of fluff at the end of her leash strutting with his nose in the air, too.
Chuckling, they make their way to Castle's bike, which he mounts, casting a raised brow over his shoulder. "Ready to jump on?"
"Absolutely," Beckett purrs as she kicks a leg over the seat and nestles her front against his back, using the position to shamelessly grope with both hands for a handhold somewhere around his sternum. She'd thought she was joking about being able to reach around his chest, but he really is quite broad. With a sigh, she consoles herself with the knowledge that she'll hold firm to his waist on the way to Remy's. She's just ready to flip her helmet on when Castle distracts her.
"You all set back there?" he asks, and she doesn't need to see his face to picture his leer. "Sorry if this is a little unfamiliar, but thanks for letting me drive," he says. Beckett knows she's completely besotted, because she even finds this reference to their old driving debate endearing. "It's probably been a long time since you were in back?"
Stretching her neck as she lifts her chin to speak right into his ear, Beckett answers in a breathy whisper. "Never, Rick. Be gentle with me," she husks, "it's my first time." With her arms around him, she can feel him still at her teasing. Her nip to his earlobe resolves that situation, causing him to groan before fumbling for his own helmet.
"Mine, too," he admits with a honeyed gravel voice that's dropped a full octave since they mounted the bike. "Should be fun, right?"
What follows is a remarkably fun ride. Beckett wasn't lying – she's never been willing to cede control on bike before. But Castle surprised her. Despite his relative lack of experience, he handled his Indian Chief adeptly. And for once, she just let everything go. Clutching his waist, pressed against him with the wind blowing on their faces, she just held on and smiled.
And if the ride was invigorating, arriving at Remy's was even more so. After all the dour gloom of the last three months, after all the delays and near-misses, they're finally here. Screw Everest or Machu Picchu, they've conquered their own mountain, finally bursting through the door with smiles and linked hands. The other patrons can't figure out why they look so happy, or why they're laughing, but their general good cheer spreads a few smiles.
"This is only the second time I've been here since you left," Beckett confesses as their waitress wanders back to the kitchen with their order in hand. "After we made plans to come here, it didn't feel right – I had to save it for something special. Alexis made the cut," she says with a smile that grows even wider when Castle thinks of his daughter and her affection for Beckett, "but otherwise it was just for us. I'm so happy we're finally here."
Even if her words weren't so earnest, it would be impossible to ignore her glee as she bounces in her banquette seat. Even the waitress notices her mood as she drops off their coffee orders, walking away with a smile.
Castle grins as he watches Beckett, unable to contain his surprise at seeing his often-acerbic partner literally bouncing in place. Sitting back in his seat, he enjoys watching her until she settles down and focuses on him.
"I owe you a thank you," he says gently, still smiling. "Several, actually. Thank you for helping Alexis with her college plans," he says, reaching a hand out to her. "Thank you for my birthday present," he says as he links her fingers with hers. "And thank you," he says as he lifts her hand to his lips, "for being brave. Thank you for talking to me," he says, dusting her hand with a kiss.
"Castle," she blushes, looking around to see if anyone else is watching. "Thank you for understanding," she says with a sweet smile and a wicked eyebrow quirk, recalling their semantic discussion on the beach. "Thank you for listening."
"Bet you never thought you'd say that!" he laughs, trying to keep things light. "Not after all the talking I did at the precinct."
"You might have a bit of a reputation for being a talker," Beckett replies with tongue in cheek. "But you were listening. It's like you said back when you left – you heard everything I said, and probably more than I realized of what I didn't say."
Castle huffs a laugh, leaning back into the cushions of his banquette and leveling an impressed gaze at Beckett. When she asks what prompted the look, he shrugs and looks down at the table before pulling his eyes back up to hers. "You've done that a few times, referred back to our conversation at the loft. I'm surprised it's stuck with you."
Beckett returns his look, taking some time to think about how to reply. She can tell him the conversation's never really left her mind since then, that she's replayed their scene over and over in her mind. And maybe they'll have that conversation later. But for now, she wants something more declarative, something that keeps things light but makes the import of that conversation clear.
"Top five, Castle," she says, leaning forward again and lifting her hand to tick off her entries. "Mom's death. Getting dad's sobriety chip. Graduating from the Academy. And that conversation. My most important turning points."
Castle stares at her in disbelief, affection and surprise all wrapped into one. And, as the moment lingers, a little impishness.
"Yes," Beckett admits with a smile, anticipating his comment. "That's only four. One spot's reserved for getting justice for mom. But Castle?" she asks, making sure that he's paying attention (as if he could look anywhere else). "I need you to know that I want happier milestones on that list. I still have hopes and dreams. The future looks bright."
"It does," he agrees, smiling.
As his look grows pensive, though, Beckett begins to get nervous. The confidence built on the beach, in his loft, and on the short motorcycle ride fades, replaced by recollections of tenser conversations where her meaning wasn't understood. She's getting anxious again, which he notices.
This time Castle's the one to reach out to clasp her hand. "The future does look bright," he assures her. "Far brighter than I could've imagined back when I left. You describe it as a pivotal moment – and I'm thrilled and flattered that you do – but I have to keep reminding myself that we're actually here. It was a pretty abrupt reversal."
"Complaining?" Beckett asks with a raised brow, curious and playing for a little time.
"Beckett, when have I ever complained?" he asks with a studiously confused expression designed to get a rise out of her. But before she can react, he laughs and strokes her hand again. "Not complaining. Just…"
"Communicating?" Beckett asks, thinking again of her conversation with Winnie and fanning her suspicion that Castle got a similar talk from his friend. "I'm glad you are. Maybe you're right – Lanie said something like that, too, that my feelings for you grew once you were gone," she confesses, while Castle looks very interested that Beckett's discussed this with Lanie, or anyone.
"It might seem abrupt to you," she says while lowering her head to shelter behind her hair, "but it wasn't to me. Or dad," she tries to casually mention.
"Hold up," Castle interjects immediately. "Your dad? He doesn't even know me yet!"
Cheering inside because of the 'yet,' Beckett shakes her head. "He knows you. He's heard all about you. And because he doesn't see us interact, everything he knows is based on what I've said about you and how I've said it. If there's anyone who's not at all surprised that I fell in love with you, it's dad. He probably knew before I did."
"Your dad," Castle repeats, his own fatherly status probably compounding his astonishment at this revelation.
"Don't worry about him," she encourages, trying to get him engaged again. "Even when I was hurt and trying to ignore you, I'd compare everyone I met to you," she explains in a quiet voice, restarting their conversation. "But," she says, voice growing bolder as she looks up again, "I told you I'd started to figure you out. I tried to hold them back, but my hopes and dreams leapt ahead as I thought more about you. Maybe I shouldn't have kept those feelings inside, but I think you saw them peek out sometimes, despite my efforts?"
"Like when we were freezing to death?" Castle asks while recalling their bittersweet internment in the refrigerator car, getting a timid nod from Beckett. "I did. Confused the hell out of me," he admits with a huff.
"I know," Beckett replies. "I confused the hell out me, too," she admits with a little laugh. "But I was figuring things out, starting to see where I needed to go."
"And then I left," Castle reminds them both, still playing with her hand. His voice sounds melancholy, but not remorseful.
"And then you left," Beckett agrees. "Which blew everything apart," she says with a smile, holding it and his attention until he starts to smile, too. "You were really smart, by the way," she compliments him, driving up both his eyebrows in surprise. "If you'd said 'that's it, Beckett, leave Josh or I'm gone,' I don't think I'd have reacted very well."
Castle's indecent and voluble snort in response catches the attention of more than a few diners around the restaurant. He clearly has Beckett's attention, as she's leveling a not-very-pleased look his way.
"Not reacted well?" he asks, still chuckling. "I'd have been shot, beaten, singing soprano, or all of the above." Her abashed look makes him laugh again. "Seriously, I know you better than that. You reach your own decisions at your own pace. I wanted to explain how I saw things, not force you into Josh's arms."
Looking slightly mollified by his explanation (though still embarrassed by the attention they attracted), Beckett jumps in again, anxious to finish this part of their conversation before their food arrives. "Mission accomplished," she huffs.
"I wasn't trying to get you to leave him," Castle says, suddenly looking a little shy. "I just wanted you to be happy."
"Which is why I'm here," she replies, her confident tone and hopeful look reinforcing her point.
Her simple declaration arrows straight into Castle, who feels it almost physically. The confidence, the certainty after so many months (years?) of subtext, lingering looks, and miscommunications finally unlocks something deep within him. As well as things have gone lately, especially during her stay at the loft, he feels even lighter, more confident now.
In the wake of this realization, he can't help but to light up, releasing a blinding smile as he sits here at the Remy's date that looked like it would go so much differently when they originally set it up. His smile is a little too wide and inviting, though, as the waitress delivering their meals gets a full blast and totters off slightly unbalanced. Beckett's indulgent look from watching the effects of Castle's charm, which he hadn't noticed, catches his eye and prompts an inquiring look.
"You impressed our waitress," Beckett says with a flirty smile as she opts for the decadent, pre-noon milkshake rather than her coffee, looking like quite the coquette as she plays with the straw.
"Really?" he replies, cutting his eyes to the side but not turning his head lest he embarrass the poor woman. His restraint is so uncharacteristic that she can't help but comment.
"What's up with you today?" she asks, reaching out to grasp his hand again to make it clear that she's not criticizing. "You seem very comfortable. More than you've been lately."
Using his thumb to play with her hand, Castle nods in agreement with her observation. "Fred said some things when we were leaving for the airport this morning," he prefaces, smirking in response to Beckett's upturned brow. "It wouldn't be fair to call it a pep talk, but she made a good point."
"Do I want to hear this?" Beckett asks, her subconscious grasp for her coffee belying her concern.
"She asked me how I was going to drive us to the airport with the car in neutral," he explains, acknowledging Beckett's concern only with a roll of his eyes. "When I asked what she meant, she mentioned that I can get in the car and decide where I want to go, but that we wouldn't get anywhere until I actually put it in gear. Then, being ever so subtle," he says with another eye roll, "she asked me where I wanted to go with you."
"It wasn't my imagination, then?" Beckett asks, sounding uncharacteristically shy. "You've been a little more demonstrably affectionate this morning?"
Smiling with reddened cheeks, Castle nods. "Not exactly the debonair ladykiller, right?" he asks with a shrug. "But I'm getting there," he finishes with a hopeful smile. "No more neutral."
"I noticed," Beckett reaffirms with a smile of her own. "There was certainly no neutral on our ride to Remy's," she notes, pulling a delighted smile from Castle as he thinks about the layers of her observation. "That's another one I owe your friend."
Looking at her curiously, Beckett shakes her head, holding the discussion of Fred for a different time. As much as she appreciates Castle's friend, she's interested in focusing on the two of them. She's thinking about changing the topic when Castle fires off his own question.
"So, you talked to Lanie about us?" he asks in a tone that mixes humor and wariness.
Shrugging to play up her point, Beckett offers a simple answer. "She's my Fred."
Castle chuckles and reaches for his milkshake, pausing before taking a gulp. "I'll look forward to my interrogation, then."
"You might think you're joking…," she replies with a laugh of her own, which grows in volume as Castle chokes a bit on his milkshake.
"Speaking of interrogations," he manages to say, after he's done coughing, "I thought you were going to tell me a story about your conversation with Montgomery. I've been looking forward to hearing about that."
"Well," she drawls out after a bite of her meal, "you know we were working on a project that'd help clear the way for you to come back to the precinct, right?" she asks, hiding her nerves about haring into this topic without a clearer understanding of what he's thinking about doing after this week. "I realized that it would be pretty frustrating to invite you back only to find out that we couldn't be together if you were there," she says, making it sound much simpler than it actually seemed at the time. "So, I told Montgomery that if I had to choose, I'd drop my efforts to get you back on the team."
Reaching out for her milkshake again, Beckett smiles when taking in Castle's stunned expression. "What?" she asks in faux surprise. "I told you I was going to show you I was serious."
"Yeah," he emits in reply, still not quite tracking, "but this… this was huge," he marvels. "You talked about it with your boss, you made your interest clear, and all at a time when things were pretty rocky between us," he says in a low voice still filled with astonishment. "I'm overjoyed they didn't, but things between us could've gone awry," he reminds them both.
"I had faith," Beckett says quietly, focusing on her hand as it plays with the straw in her milkshake.
"That's exactly what I told Fred," he says excitedly as he reaches for her hand again. "After the beach, after you and Alexis headed home, she asked about how things went. I was happy," he understates with a small grin, "obviously. And when she asked me why I was so optimistic, I told her that I have faith in us."
"We're still on the same page," Beckett laughs warmly as she adds her other hand to the clasp she shares with Castle. "As you've probably figured out, Montgomery said you could come back even if we're involved, as long as we behave in the precinct. So," she dives headlong into the conversation, "will you please come back?"
Looking down at their intertwined hands where his thumb is still stroking gently, Castle pauses to think. He's just about to reply when Beckett's nerves get the better of her.
"I'm not too late, am I?" she asks while also looking at their hands. "Monica said her husband was going to try to get you to stay beyond this week."
"I'm not going to stay at the 'house," he says, sounding a little too wistful for Beckett's comfort. "It was nice to be asked and a part of me wishes I could say yes," he says, feeling her tense up. "They're good people. Mostly," he corrects himself, thinking of the unforgiveable treatment Beckett endured from one of his colleagues. "It's noble, necessary work. And I wasn't too bad at it," he chuffs before growing more serious. "I helped people, Beckett. I saved people."
"You did," she affirms, going back to stroking his hand. "I saw you in action, remember? It was terrifying," she confesses in a way that makes Castle think he might not be the only one with some lingering nightmares. "You can stay, you know," she offers in a low voice. "We don't have to work together to be together. Most people don't," she says with a shrug that's utterly unconvincing.
"Kicking me out already?" Castle teases, craning his head around to get into her field of vision. "I'd love to come back, if everyone's on board."
Smiling broadly at his expressed interest, Beckett's still a little confused by his last comment. "You mean the boys?" she asks, since Montgomery's on board and her own hope is clear.
"This is another thing we talked about so long ago," Castle reminds her with a little grin. "I don't want to force my way in again. Recent experience has opened my eyes about how distracting having me around can be."
Making a mental note to follow up on that reference, Beckett instead turns to the immediate concern. "They'll be fine," she assures him. "They've both been pretty attentive about you lately." Please don't ask for details, she thinks, promising herself that she'll talk about those later. She doesn't want to get bogged down in the speculation about his job, or the horrible night when she solved the mystery.
"Really?" Castle asks. "Huh," he says, trying to think of examples.
"I think," Beckett offers, still not wanting to dwell here but concerned that he sounded so surprised by the boys' concerns for him, "they had a run-in with Winnie." This speculation lifts Castle's eyebrows even higher. "They both knew her name and reacted like they were guilty of something when I asked them to pull her file…" she trails off, cursing herself for the slip. Hoping he doesn't notice or lets it go, she's about to change topic when he pins her with a Cheshire grin. Damn.
"When," he asks smugly, "and for what reason, might you've had need to pull my friend's file?"
Beckett's about to refuse to answer when, as if conjured by their reference to her, an image of Winnie appears in Beckett's mind. Fine, I get it, she thinks to herself. Direct communication.
"When I was nervous and jealous and unsure about where we stood or if we could find a way back to each other," she says, starting shyly but growing bolder as she watches Castle's eyes widen at her candor. "Because I was nervous and jealous and unsure," she finishes, repeating herself to fully answer his teasing question.
Lifting a hand, she uses a finger to help Castle lift his jaw to stop his gaping. "That's not how I thought I'd leave you gaping," she says with a provocative wink. "Are you okay?" she asks, using the excuse to rub his cheek since her hand was nearly there already.
"If I say yes are you going to stop caressing me?" he asks, still sounding dazed, though his lips twitch as he tries not to smile or turn to kiss her hand.
"Only temporarily," she answers with another wink, unhinging his jaw again. This time, Beckett decides to shove a french fry in his mouth to force it closed. He turns the tables, though, when she doesn't pull her finger back quickly enough and watches his lips close on her fingertip, nearly squeaking when she feels the swirl of his tongue.
This time, Castle gets to lift her jaw back into place.
"If the team's okay with it," he says, returning to their discussion while Beckett zones in again, "I want to come back. I can't imagine Bob's still concerned about it. I think I'll ignore him even if he is."
"He's fine," Beckett assures him, snapped back into the conversation by the reminder of her work with the mayor. "I actually spoke with him about bringing you back. He lent me his intern to help with our project about you." When Castle lifts a brow, she rolls her eyes. "At the risk of enflaming your ego, we put together a presentation that showed how good you were for our team."
"Finest barista in the NYPD," he laughs, opting to provide some relief on the ego front.
"That too," Beckett laughs. "But you know we're talking about more than that, right? You're good, Castle. We needed the data to convince others, but we knew it."
"I do miss building theory," he replies with a grin.
His welcome words and beautiful face almost distract her. But Beckett recognizes the deflection.
"You're a good detective, Castle," she repeats herself. "I didn't think I'd need the presentation to convince you, but maybe I was wrong," she says while quirking an eyebrow at her. "And from what I heard, you were a good fireman, too." To her shock and surprise, Castle's actually starting to look a little bashful. When she confided to Lanie that she pushed hard on Castle because he didn't flinch, she was thinking that was mostly about personal issues. Does it extend to his shadowing experiences, too?
"I need to back up," she says clearly, wanting to get this right. "I want you to come back to me," she says, happy to make this more personal than she's previously dared. "I want it to be like before, but better," she vows, catching his attention. "I've been thinking recently about how much of the way we interact stems from how hard I fought your presence initially. That kind of set the tone and we never adjusted once you'd earned your place. And the same with the boys – you got the rookie hazing, but in some ways it's never stopped. But we're asking you to come back. I'm not fighting it, and you're not a rookie."
"Beckett," he objects, "I'm not soft. I give as good as I get."
"Maybe," she replies, giving him a disbelieving look when he seems ready to argue. "I figured something out when I was talking to Martha, back when she tried to poison us all in the loft," she explains, pulling a laugh from Castle. "I pushed her a little but got frustrated when her acting skills masked the reactions I typically use to figure people out. It wasn't until later that I realized you've looked the same way. You might not be an actor, but you've learned from one. So I know," she declares, "that some of the shots you take bother you more than you let on. And even if I'm wrong," she continues when it looks like he's going to interject, "there's no harm in being more appreciative of your help, right?"
"For you," Castle allows, "I suppose I could put up with it."
Laughing, she squeezes his hands again and rolls her eyes. "What a martyr. So, not to push or anything, but when can you start?" she presses, playing her advantage already.
"As soon as we're back from the beach," he answers, the salacious look he's sending her way already increasing the temperature.
"There's a dilemma," she replies, reveling in the knowledge that the most difficult choice on her near-term agenda isn't how but where to spend time with him.
With smiles and lighter hearts, they finally turn to the food on the table that's gone largely ignored. After a few minutes of idle chatter during their meal, Castle dabs at his lips with a napkin and sits back.
"Two questions before I come back to work, boss," he says, testing out the honorific. Both he and Beckett scrunch their faces in reaction, not liking the sound or implication. Recognizing their unstated agreement, Castle lets it go and focuses on his question instead. "How are things going to work once Montgomery comes back?"
Trust Castle to figure out what's bothering her and jump right to it. This is something that's been nagging at her, something she was hoping Castle could help her manage from the precinct.
"I'm not sure," she replies honestly. "I'm glad he's gone so I can think about this. He's safe, right?"
"He's fine," Castle replies. "Don't ask – I don't know where they're holed up, but I'd know if something happened. If Paul hadn't checked in, I'd know about it."
"Alexis' driver?" she asks in surprise. "I thought you might be laying it on a little thick when you told Matt about Paul," she recalls, thinking back to the tense scene in the kitchen of the beach house. "It's not like you to be understated."
Feigning offense, Castle just shakes his head. "I can be discreet when necessary," he purrs, hoping to conjure images unrelated to their conversation.
"Luckily, we don't need to be," she replies with a saucy look, embracing the flirtation. Of course, her comment is based on Montgomery's approval of their relationship in the precinct, which just brings the conversation back to him again.
"What am I going to do, Rick?" she asks, looking for his advice. "He was a criminal. Had he been an honorable man – or just a law-abiding one – mom would still be alive," she laments, thinking about what might have been. Castle remains quiet, letting her think.
"But he turned himself into a good cop. He tried to help her. And when he couldn't help her, he helped me. I'm who I am today because he was like a father to me, especially when I didn't have mine," she says quietly, still scarred from years her father was struggling with sobriety. "And now he might've orchestrated the end of mom's killer. How do I balance all of that? How do I take orders from a man when I alternate between loathing and revering him? How do I trust him?"
The sorrow and confusion in her tone is heartbreaking, all the more because their conversation leading up to this had been full of affection and hope. Castle can't stop himself from moving. Without breaking their clasp, he manages to scoot out of his seat only to round the table and slide in next to Beckett. Pulling their hands into his lap, he leans against her slightly. She gladly reciprocates, letting her head fall to rest against his shoulder.
"I'm afraid I don't have the answer for you, Kate," he says quietly.
"That makes it sound like you have answers for you," Beckett observes, detective instincts still humming despite her distress.
"You're right," he confesses uneasily. "Our considerations are a little different. For me, it's easy – he's taken efforts to eliminate a deadly threat to you. Coonan, Raglan, McAllister… the man behind them all," he says, proving his point about discretion by refusing to utter Bracken's name here in public, "he would send someone for you, because you'd never stop hunting him. And while I know you're a bad-ass," he assures her, earning a chuff, "I'm happy that you might not have to prove it against him."
"Montgomery has been willing to shield me from him," Beckett admits, trying to convince herself. "And he said he would've testified…" she trails off, before realizing that talking to him has actually proven to be pretty easy, and gratifying. "But you know what really bothers me?" she asks rhetorically. "His comment about the hand of God guiding me to his precinct."
Castle gives a sad nod, which he knows she can feel even if she can't see it. "Because he didn't seek you out," he voices his own speculation, her stillness confirming they're thinking the same thing. "Makes you wonder if he would've provided protection if you hadn't been right there, breaking the rules to work on her case right under his nose."
Beckett doesn't answer, other than to nod against his shoulder.
"We're partners, right?" Castle asks, nudging her ever so gently with his shoulder and feeling her nod in return. "So you know I'll back your play, I'll be there to support you any way I can. You don't have to decide now. If he comes back and things are awkward, we'll figure out a way to make it work. If we can't, I wouldn't be surprised if he retires – in many ways, he's done everything he hoped to do. Maybe more. And if it doesn't work, and he doesn't retire, we'll explore other options."
"I'm not really the type to be a kept woman, Castle," she grumbles.
"Why Katherine Beckett, wherever has your mind wandered?" Castle teases. He can't see her cheeks now that she's tilted her head forward to hide behind her hair, but he can see her ear, which is a beautiful shade of pink. "Let the record show," he says officiously, getting a groan in reply, "that I was only talking about other career options. I know far better than to risk scaring you off by speculating on our romantic future quite yet."
"Richard Castle, poster-boy for tact and restraint," Beckett mutters, pulling a laugh out of him.
"Hey, Beckett," he says mischievously. "Did you know that I can feel your head tip back when you roll your eyes?"
In reply, she shakes her head to deny it, deny this whole embarrassing line of questions, but can't help but chuckle. "Okay, smart guy, prove it. What other career options were you thinking about?"
"Anything, really. I've always pictured you as a model," he speculates, getting an elbow to the ribs as Beckett hides any reaction that might reveal her secret. "Secret agent would work, too, except for all the Bond-types who'd hit on you. No," he thinks aloud, "not that. Let's see. Librarian? Attorney? Judge? Nurse? French maid?"
"Hold it right there," Beckett cautions. "I think your mind jumped tracks from potential occupations to potential roles," she says suggestively as he lifts her head and turns to see his reaction. Guilty. So, so guilty.
"Spoilsport," he complains, though he's smiling even wider than she is.
"Any last, legitimate thoughts?" she prompts.
"We could always transfer, I guess," he says with a shrug. "Bet there's an opening at the 28th. Oomph!" he exclaims as her elbow finds his side again. "Too soon?"
"We'd better turn to your second question," she answers primly, "before you get yourself into more trouble."
Looking nervous, Castle shakes his head. "I don't think so. We'd better just table that one for now."
His reaction spurs her inquisitive nature and arouses suspicions. If his second question was enough that even he thought it was over the line, it must be a doozy.
"Come on, Castle, spit it out. We'll deal with your question, then figure out what to do with the rest of the day," she says, looking over at her motorcycle helmet and wondering if she could coax him into a long ride out of the city.
"No, really, we should let it slide," he answers hastily. Having noticed her glance, he tries to change the subject. "How about we go grab your bike and you can show me how to ride?"
"Castle," she urges in exasperation. "We've been all about direct communication. Just tell me, then we can go for a ride."
"I was going to ask…," he trails off before nudging Beckett upright so that he could slide out of the seat and move back across the table from her. With the illusion of safety he appears slightly more confident, but still wary. "We were talking about transfers, right?" he reminds her. "I was going to ask if you'd put in a good word for someone else's transfer."
"Rick, we can't just ship Demming out of the Twelfth," Beckett replies in exasperation. "Besides, haven't I made it clear that there's nothing to worry about there?"
"I was talking about a transfer in, not a transfer out," he clarifies, looking nervous. "Or at least a transfer away, if it works that way."
Confused, Beckett sits back to think. Who would Castle know that'd want to transfer in? It would have to be someone he knew pretty well, and probably someone with whom he was on friendly terms if he'd chance seeing him in the precinct. Waitaminute. Not him. Her.
"Renoux?" Beckett asks, watching Castle flinch. "You want me to help Renoux transfer here, after what she tried to do? Are you crazy?!"
"Hold on," Castle begs, hands extended in supplication. "She's not bad. She didn't know what Mendoza was trying to do until after we'd met."
"But you did?" Beckett interjects, while still managing to doubt his take on Renoux's motivations.
"Seriously?" Castle asks in reply. "Does Mendoza seem like a subtle guy to you? Catching the arsonist seemed like a second priority to him."
"Do you really expect me to believe that you were offended that he tried to force a beautiful woman on you?" Beckett asks, incredulity making her head spin.
Looking frustrated, Castle shakes his head and leans over the table, fully abandoning his defensive posture. "Twice, Beckett," he declares, letting her mind try to figure out what he means only for a moment. "I've been maneuvered into disastrous dates twice. The first was Meredith – pretty obvious how that one worked out," he grumbles. "The second was a few weeks ago and was part of a harrowing and utterly doomed attempt to get over you," he says bluntly. "One good thing came of that second time – I couldn't have been more on edge or wary when I ended up at the 28th. She never stood a chance."
"But that's what she wanted," Beckett asserts. "A chance."
"Perhaps," Castle allows. "But I told her nothing would happen and she respected that. When we worked, it was all about the case. And as a result, Mendoza's made her life a living hell. She's miserable because of me, so I'd like to help her out," Castle confesses, and Beckett's surprised to find herself understanding where he's coming from. Having heard enough from Mendoza to know what an ass he is certainly helps.
"One last thing," Castle mentions, recapturing her attention. "She asked me to ask you for a recommendation."
Pausing to think about this, Beckett realizes the implications quickly. "She asked in a way to show she understood the nature of our partnership?" When he nods, she scrubs a hand through her hair. "But… that was right after LA, right? The outlook for our partnership wasn't very bright just then."
"We were in a rough place," he agrees, "though she had the benefit of seeing me once I got back, after a talk with Fred helped clear my thinking a bit. But she's pretty smart," he allows. "She'd probably figured it out even before then. Even if I hadn't," he ends with a huff.
Beckett thinks a few moments, then tosses her hands up. "I can't believe this," she laments, mostly facetiously. "You're not even back in the precinct yet and you're already talking me into doing ridiculous things."
"Thanks, Kate," he answers with a smile for her help and a laugh for her drama.
"Just know this," she says fiercely. "I don't know where she'll end up. But if it's the Twelfth, you'd better watch your step, buddy. I. Don't. Share." An unsubtle tap on the table with each of those last words reinforces her position, but not nearly so much as her look.
Unfortunately, Castle's reaction is to smile wide, pleased beyond imagining at Beckett's assertion of her place. It's hardly a look that suggests meek compliance. When Beckett looks ready to explore other potential ramifications of a Renoux move, he lifts his hand to ask her to let him speak, still smiling.
"You don't have to worry," he assures her, reaching again for her hands. "I don't want to be shared. There's only one member of the NYPD for me," he says, smiling wider as Beckett squeezes his hand. But he's not going to stop now. There's one more point he needs to make sure she understands.
"She was a fine colleague – she learned quickly, helped me navigate the precinct, and fed Mendoza enough to keep him distracted. But she could never be my partner," he vows. "I haven't worked with her for years. I haven't faced death with her. I haven't shared my secrets or blundered into hers," he says, getting a little huff from Beckett. "But most importantly," he says as he squeezes her hands and drinks in her mirthful look, "I haven't fallen in love with her."
"Castle?" she asks, eyes growing glassy.
"Love," he says clearly, smiling wide as he steals her line from their walk on the beach. "I was talking about love, Beckett. I love you. You know that, right?"
"I do now," she declares as she stands as much as she can in the booth, leaning over the table to reel him in for a kiss. She's beaming when they break apart, flushing from excitement and emotion and maybe just a little embarrassment from the round of polite clapping offered by the other diners at Remy's.
Castle hardly looks any more composed, sitting there struck dumb, a goofy smile on his face and lips swollen enough to suggest he was just kissed within an inch of his life. His eyes slowly come back into focus when they land on her face. Without looking away, he raises his hand and in a clear voice, says, "Check, Please!"
This elicits a few more claps from around the restaurant, as well as some smiles. Rather than looking more embarrassed, though, Beckett looks inquisitive. Uh oh, Castle thinks, she's on the scent of something.
"So, mister NYPD consultant," she enunciates clearly as she reaches again for his hand. For a fleeting moment, her tone makes Castle think she's about to grab his wrist and cuff him, but then he shrugs as he realizes that he'd be fine with that. "I noticed a curiosity in your statement. About your focus on one member of the NYPD – I had the distinct impression that you weren't speaking hypothetically, nor were you talking about Renoux. Care to identify and elaborate on any other inquiries you've received?"
"Let's see," Castle says as he tries to sit back in the booth, though he's prevented by Beckett's grip on his hand. Lifting his other hand, he raises his fingers as he scrunches his face in concentration. "One, two, three," he starts to count vaguely as Beckett's grip on his hand gets tighter and tighter, "four, five!" he says in victory.
"Five women?!" Beckett growls.
"No, Fifth Amendment," he smirks, though his smile falters when he can't manage to slip Beckett's grip.
"Castle…," Beckett growls. "I thought we were being open and direct?"
"Kate," he says, shifting quickly from joking to earnest. "We don't need to worry about this. It's like flirting with Maddie," he tries to explain, getting a 10 from the Russian judge for his dive from the frying pan and into the fire, "it's fun because we both know it would never go anywhere. I made it clear from the start that I'd never go out with one of your coworkers – there's just no way that wouldn't have led to unfair speculation about you."
"You made it clear from the start?" she asks in mild shock. "Where was I? What'd you do, wear a sign?"
"That might've been fun," Castle thinks aloud, before honoring her request for honesty. "I joked and teased, diverted the topic whenever it came up. People eventually understood and there was no need for an embarrassing conversation."
Beckett nods, easily imagining this scene in her mind. Castle's surprisingly adept at diversion, so it's not a stretch to think that he would've sidestepped fraught conversations with a joke and a smile.
"That was sweet," Beckett allows.
"Maybe," he answers. "It was certainly selfish, since I had my eyes set on you. Anyway, it mostly worked."
"Mostly?" Beckett asks again, squeezing his hand quickly to let him know she's still paying attention.
"Yeah, mostly," he replies, vexed. "LT just won't take no for an answer."
This time it's Beckett's snort that catches attention of other diners. Castle chuckles at his joke while handing what Beckett suspects is far too much money to their waitress, but she's in too good a mood to care.
"So," she says happily as the waitress hustles off wearing a large grin, "what's next? We've both got the day off, we should take advantage of it."
Nodding along, Castle agrees entirely. "You mentioned going for a ride, right?" he asks while looking at their helmets.
"If you want," she replies quickly and easily. "It's been too long since I've been out on my bike."
"Why don't we head back to your place," Castle suggests as he stands, offering Beckett a hand to help her rise. "We can go for a long ride," he says with a lingering look while leaning in close to her ear, repeating her earlier move by indulging in a quick nibble, "and then we can take the bikes out for a spin afterward."
Beckett's already pulled him out the door before their waitress chases them down, holding the helmets they left behind in their haste to depart.
A/N: Like Week Twelve, this separate chapters of this week will have a mix of topics. The weekend conversation above focused on friendships and relationships. Other aspects will be addressed in the next chapter.
My accuracy in this regard is questionable, but I think there are about two chapters left to this tale. I'm not sure they'll arrive more frequently than usual, but I'm looking forward to catching up on reading and reviewing now that some work deadlines have passed.
