Disclaimer: I don't own Castle. The only profit being made is my own amusement (and hopefully yours).
July
"Fourth of July party," Castle announces one night, as Beckett is stacking manila folders on her desk and returning her pens to their proper container. "Roof of my apartment building. Food and alcoholic beverages provided. Clothing optional."
She rolls her eyes and says, "Sounds like fun. Except the part where I might have to arrest you for indecent exposure."
"Or give me a medal," he retorts, earning him another eye-roll. "Josh should come, too," he offers.
(He's noticed that Beckett gets this look on her face, half-surprised and half-delighted, whenever he makes an effort to be civil to her former or current lovers. Like that day he signed the card that Esposito bought to congratulate Demming's basketball team. Or the time he shook Josh's hand and told a joke about why surgeons love operating on lawyers. He thinks it's a good way of proving his maturity to Beckett.)
This time, though, she looks more uncomfortable than pleased. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She bites her lip for a second before blurting out, "Josh and I aren't seeing each other anymore."
His initial delight that Beckett is single again is quickly replaced by concern that she might have had her heart broken. "Did he... do anything to hurt you?"
"No, no, nothing like that." There's a sigh, a shrug, a shift of her weight from one high-heeled boot to the other. "It just wasn't right."
He's curious, so curious about what she means exactly, but he resists the temptation to pry. So he settles on saying, "Welcome to the singles club."
"The singles club?" Beckett scoffs. "The last time I checked, Ryan was engaged, Esposito's been sneaking off early and smiling all day like he's finally getting lucky, and you—"
"Gina and I are done," he interrupts her.
"Oh." The awkwardness returns to her expression, her eyes darting as she turns a little red and plays with the sleeves of her black leather jacket. "Sorry. I didn't know."
"No, it's fine. It's been a few months now, actually. It wasn't going anywhere, but at least we don't want to kill each other anymore." She chuckles a little. "You're okay, though"—he fights the urge to call her by her first name—"Beckett?"
"Yeah, of course. I've got you, and Esposito and Ryan and Lanie and Maddy and a lot of other people. Your friends never go away."
He can think of nothing except we made a deal Castle and I expect you to honor it and I thought this would be our last case and go back to your Hamptons. She's apparently having the same idea, because she looks straight at him with those bright green eyes and adds, "Or sometimes they do go away, but they always come back."
He and Beckett are friends. He's always known this, of course, but somehow hearing her say it out loud makes it more real. She takes a step toward him and, to his surprise, wraps her arms around his shoulders. It's not the same as the impulsive, adrenaline-driven hug she'd given him when they'd unearthed the stolen jewels; this embrace is a long and deliberate squeeze.
Castle stays awake for most of the night, remembering the scent of cherries and the softness of her hair against his neck, and trying to convince himself that she had paused for just a split second after I've got you.