Heartlines
It's later than Beth expected when she finally manages to extricate herself and Alex from the claws of Elise's overeagerness. Well-meaning claws, of course, but she doesn't think it's a good idea to voice this as she listens to Alex's rant about mothers and their unwanted attentions.
She lets him vent all he likes, breathing in the cool night air and trying to catch a glimpse of a star beyond the New York lights as they walk up the street.
The lights will inspire you – isn't that what the song says? Beth smiles to herself, relishing the soft peace that spreads inside her, this feeling of being in the right place, at the right time.
Funny, to think all those years ago she ran away from New York City because she thought she could feel it smothering her, because she was convinced that she was meant for something else, something different.
And, maybe, because it was impossible to escape her mother's shadow here.
Ten years have changed that, remodeled the city, or remodeled Beth. Maybe a little bit of both. Ten years have made a big enough difference that she can stand in this street now, her arm loosely linked with her fiancé's, and be happy.
They stop at a crosswalk and Beth twirls on the spot, her mouth colliding with Alex's and cutting his complaint short.
He hums in surprise but parts his lips willingly, offers the warm, wet cave of his mouth to her enthusiastic exploration. The light probably turns green a few times before they finally part, Beth laughing breathlessly at the stunned expression on Alex's face.
The tear-shaped, translucent blue diamond on her ring finger tingles, as if warmed by the love in her heart.
"So, Mr. Conrad," she says playfully. "What do you have in store for me tonight?"
If there's something she's learned about the man, it's that he responds well to provocation. His blue eyes sparkle as he tugs her closer, fingers curling demandingly on her hips. Or well, on her coat.
"I don't know, Miss Beckett. What would you like to do?"
"Hmm," she pretends to think, straightening the collar of his shirt, and sliding her cold thumb along his neck just to see him shiver. "I don't know. How about spending some quality time with my fiancé? I feel like I haven't seen him in forever," she emphasizes, batting her eyelashes.
Alex arches a dubious eyebrow.
"Forever as in, since this morning?"
Beth sticks her tongue out, smacks his shoulder.
"You know, some people would be very happy to hear me say that. They wouldn't look too closely at the meaning behind the words."
"Yeah, well, you're marrying a writer, babe. Meaning is like, more important than air to us."
"Oh, really," Beth mocks, poking his abs. "And I'm not your babe, Alex Conrad. So watch your words."
He grins at her, something dark and visceral at the back of his eyes. He leans in to brush his lips to her cheek, her jaw, and whispers in her ear.
"What are you then? My darling?"
Beth smiles into his neck, shudders at the caress in his voice.
"My betrothed?"
She laughs softly, the word too old-fashioned for her, but vaguely appealing at the same time. "What is this," she asks lightly, "the eighteenth century?"
"Jeez, woman, you're hard to please," he answers, and she can hear the smile in his words. "How about my love, then?"
She presses an open-mouthed kiss to his skin, gives a flick of her tongue to make him writhe.
"I can work with that," she sighs happily.
"Good," he murmurs, pressing her against him, his arms firm at her back, his cheek to her temple. "Because I don't plan on letting you go."
Beth smiles, biting her lip, and blinks back a lone, silly tear.
"The sign just switched to walk," she remarks distractedly, having more or less forgotten that they're still standing in the street.
"So?"
Her smile grows wider. "Nothing," she whispers, closing her eyes, breathing in his familiar scent.
Nothing at all.
Alex tells her he is going to take her to a new restaurant, a small Italian place that he's heard of and is supposedly divine, and Beth gives in without much resistance.
"Let me just call Kate," she says. "I can't remember if we had plans together tonight."
She's fairly sure they didn't – otherwise, her sister probably would have called or texted by now – but it can't hurt to ask.
Kate picks up on the second ring, sounding a little breathess. It's the good kind of breathless though; the laughing kind.
"Bethie, hi."
"You sound like you're having fun," Beth observes coyly, even though hearing her sister so happy just makes her heart swell in her chest.
"Ah – I am, it's just...You know, Castle's silly jokes. We just left the wok place you and I went to last week. Remember?"
"Uh, yeah, I don't have Alzheimer yet, thanks." She's trying to pull out insulted but the chuckle that escapes her makes her efforts vain. "Little Castle's with you?"
"Yeah," Kate answers, with that soft warmth to her voice that makes her sister picture the glow in her cheeks, the light in her eyes. Good. Probably means Kate and Alexis had a talk then.
Good. Beth still feels a little heartbroken when she thinks of the girl's sobs last night, and somewhat outraged that a girl as smart as Alexis could believe that Kate only loves her out of obligation.
"Did you want to do something tonight?" Kate asks.
"Uh – no, actually, I was just calling to make sure we didn't have plans. Alex wants to take me to some restaurant."
An arm wraps around her waist, surprising her and nearly getting a startled cry out of her.
"Not *some* restaurant," Alex scolds lightly. "A lovely, romantic Italian place where the food is to die for."
Beth laughs and shakes him off, shuffling from one foot to the other to compensate for the loss of body heat while he gets his own phone out. Probably calling a cab.
"That sounds nice," Kate teases over the phone. Of course she heard him. "And no, you can do whatever you want, Beth. The three of us are nearly home now, and we'll probably have a relaxing night in."
There's the slightest beat of hesitation after her last word, and this is so uncharacteristic that Beth immediately picks up on it.
"What?" She inquires, curious.
A moment of silence informs her that her sister is considerating sharing, and a soft sigh tells her that something good is coming.
"Castle took us to this...jewellery, or well, artist's studio, tonight. Alexis and I," she adds needlessly.
Interesting.
"Oh?" Beth prompts, hoping for more.
"We just, looked at the bracelets and the rings, and...Wait – let me get away from prying ears."
"Are you home yet?"
"Just getting to the loft now."
Beth hears some noise, the rumble of indistinct voices, and then her sister again.
"There, better. So, uh, yeah. Castle bought a ring for Alexis's Christmas. You'll love it; it's so pretty." Kate hurries a little through the words, as if it could throw her sister off.
Beth grins, but doesn't say anything. She knows what works on Katie.
She swears, she can almost hear Kate bite her lower lip before she says slowly, "Ok, and...Castle saw this ring. And I might just – have to buy it."
"Really?" Beth tries to not sound shocked, not freak her sister out, but come on. Who buys a guy a ring? Except –
Oh oh oh. She fights hard to keep the squeal inside. Are they finally...?
"Yeah, it's..." Kate sounds like she's shaking her head at herself, but smiling through it.
"Oh, Beth, you'll laugh. It's a *crown-shaped* ring."
"A what?" She *is* laughing, but maybe not for the right reason.
"You heard me. It's metal – gold or bronze, I can't remember – and shaped as a crown. Except it goes around your finger."
Beth giggles. Seriously –? Alex gets closer, arches an eyebrow at her. He always wants to know everything.
"And oh, you should have seen Rick. Worse than a kid. He was so excited. It was..."
"Irresistible?" Beth offers playfully. Her sister doesn't even brush her off. Wow. "Well, that sounds awesome. And uh, what's the occasion? Are you buying him a ring as a signal, you know? Invite him to do the same?"
"Beth!"
"What? Come on, Katie, you can't hide the truth from *me*," Beth chides. "Don't think I missed those little looks you've been giving him."
"I –"
"Although, from the way Rick was looking at you the other night, when you fed little J.R., I'd say he has plans of his own..."
"Beth."
Kate is reluctantly laughing on the other end of the phone, but she seems curiously...okay with the whole idea. Beth would push it further, try to uncover what exactly is going on, but Alex is tugging on her hand, showing her the cab that just pulled over.
"Okay, sis, I'm gonna hang up. Taxi's here. And Writer Number 2 is getting a little clingy," she laughs, pushing Alex back and shivering when his lips brush her neck.
"Enjoy your romantic night, Bethie," Kate says before she ends the call. "And see you tomorrow."
"Love you," Beth answers before slapping one of Alex's wandering hands. He jumps away but she points her phone at him, accusing. He gives her a blank, innocent look.
"What?"
"Just for that, Alex Conrad, you have to keep your hands *off* me for this taxi ride."
"What?" he whines. "That's not fair –"
"It's going to be the taxi ride *and* the restaurant if you complain," she warns. Inside, she's exulting – it's lke playing at Kate. She loves doing that.
When he gets inside the car and sits sagely on his side, she rewards him with a brilliant smile, and watches him struggle not to touch her.
Oh, he's just too cute. Breaking her own rules, she reaches out and snatches his hand, brushes a kiss to his palm.
And his smile is worth it.
When Kate eases inside the loft, pushing the door closed behind her, everything is abnormally quiet. She stayed down in the lobby to finish her phone call to Beth, but that didn't take more than a couple minutes.
Where are the Castles?
She takes off her heels, hangs up her jacket, and glances at the living room and kitchen. Empty.
Uh. Oh, actually, Alexis is probably upstairs, skyping with Ashley. Kate has a distinct feeling that Alexis is, of the two, the one who tries the hardest to maintain their relationship.
She doubts it's going to end well. It'll be Ashley's loss, of course, but Kate doesn't want Castle's daughter to be hurt. Which will probably happen anyway.
She sighs. At least, she and Beth and Castle will be here to pick up the pieces, right?
Speaking of Castle.
Kate silently slides into his study, is surprised to find it empty. He's been working a lot lately, getting every little detail of the soon-to-be-released Nikki Heat as right as he can, and there have been quite a lot of nights when she came into his office to find him either typing in a flurry, or asleep on his desk.
But not tonight.
She pushes the door to their bedroom open, the soft light on the bedside tables welcoming her, a gentle halo bathing their bed.
Castle is there, sitting in bed, his back resting against the pillows and his blue eyes peering intently at the screen of his laptop. Kate smiles. So he *is* working; he's simply changed venues.
She watches him for a moment, the fingers flying on the keyboard and then pausing, the way his eyebrows knit when he's unhappy with something.
It's strange, how knowing him changes the way she views his books. And yet doesn't change it at all. She's always loved his words, always loved the way he can suck her into his world, make her breathe with his characters, laugh with them, hurt for them.
But knowing him. Knowing the amount of work that goes into those characters, the quasi-obsessive way he ponders the smallest detail – it makes it richer, makes his novels rounder because she gets to see the creative process, to see everything.
Not just the finished work. (She almost never peeks, though. Doesn't want to spoil it for herself).
And loving him, loving him only makes her love his books more.
It's a neverending circle, a closed circuit that pumps life into her the way her heart pumps blood into her veins. Kate takes a deep breath, powerless to stop the beautiful, delicate emotion that curls in her belly.
She knows better than to talk to him when he's writing, so she heads for the bathroom instead. The mirror lights show her a slightly tired, but happy-looking woman, her eyes bright and greener than she's used to, her lips curling up in a smile without her being aware of it.
She shakes her head in amusement – or amazement – and starts taking off her make-up. Or what's left of it, anyway.
After brushing her teeth, she sheds her paint clothes (good thing she didn't pick out the worst she had, considering they went to the gallery after that). She pulls her shirt off, glances up to find Castle's reflection looking at her.
"Thought you were working," she says. The smile on her face doesn't want to fade, it seems.
"I was," he answers, wiggling an eyebrow. "And then you got here."
She stifles a laugh, turns to face him and poke his chest. "Oh, no, Richard Castle. You do *not* get to blame me for your own laziness."
"I was done anyway," he adds more seriously. "I made all the important changes. I'm at the stage when I no longer know what's good and what's worth rewriting, so if you leave me at it, I'll spend the night replacing words that I'll change back tomorrow. Which is stupid."
Kate hums and lets him tug her forward, cradle her against his chest.
"Kate, I wanna thank you," he whispers in her ear.
"For what?" she asks, eyes closed in pleasure at his warmth, and the comforting scent of him that surrounds her.
"For being a friend to Alexis tonight. For talking to her, trying to...make things better. This summer –"
But he stops because she's pulling back, shaking her head, refusing his thanks.
"Castle, don't. No. You – you have nothing to thank me for. This is my own fault, my own mess, and I *know* I hurt you too, I know..."
She lets out a shaky breath, tries to steady herself. She meets his eyes, a deeper, tenderer blue.
"I'll fix this," she says firmly, her fingers curling around his forearms. "I'll fix this, Rick. I'll make up for it, I promise. And spending time with Alexis tonight – that's only the first step."
She hopes he can hear it in her voice, see it on her face. How determined she is, how grateful that she has them at all. And –
Committed.
Yes. She's committed to them.
Castle stares at her with a melange of pride and awe, his whole face alight with it, and before she expects it, his mouth is working at hers, nudging it open so his tongue can sweep inside, express his devotion and weaken her knees.
"I love you," he whispers when he breaks apart long enough to manage words, his thumbs stroking her temples, pushing her hair back as his eyes shine with such brilliant love that her heart misses a few beats. "Oh, Kate. I love you so much."
And then she's the one seeking his lips, because she can't speak and she certainly can't think. Her head is swimming, CastleCastleCastle, and she wants his body pressed to hers, wants his voice raw and vulnerable and breaking, wants *him*.
She feels his hands at her back, his fingers on the clasp of her bra, and she pushes him out of the bathroom, a little ruthless.
"Bed, Castle," she demands, shivering at the darkness in his eyes when he opens them.
"Yes," he growls back.
And even wedding rings vanish from her mind.
Rick wanders out of the bedroom and into the silent living room. He cracks his jaw on another yawn and rubs at his eyes.
No Kate.
No Lex either.
He shuffles to the kitchen and finds the coffee pot half empty but still warm, a note with Dad on it propped up against it. He takes it and unfolds the notebook paper, blinks blearily at the two distinct sets of handwriting.
First, his daughter: Headed out to meet up with Beth and Alex and Lucie. Needed help organizing seating chart. Gonna eat lunch with them for sure, don't know how long after that. Love you both.
And below that Kate's written him a short little note as well; it's more amusing than it really should be. Back by 9. Be dressed. Taking you somewhere. Love.
Neither signed her name. Alexis put a heart-shaped 'o' in hers, but Kate is just serious, down to business. Castle glances up at the kitchen clock and yelps.
He's got maybe five minutes before Kate gets back.
Castle drops the note and heads back to their bedroom, tripping over his own shoes in the study, cursing his throbbing toe. He strips off his clothes as he goes - tshirt ripped off over his head, stumbling around trying to get his pajama pants off, crashing into the doorframe. He bounces off, hears something rip in his pants as his foot comes down to keep his balance.
Ah well. Not worth worrying about. Better to be ready when Kate gets back.
He showers fast, scrapes his elbow on the shower door trying to hustle. Boxers and jeans on, bare feet curling up on the cold floor. He's been thinking about remodeling the bathroom with those heated tiles. Kate hates the cold mornings; he doesn't love it either. She would-
"Castle? You ready?"
Ah, shit. "Almost." Just looking for a shirt. A clean one. He needs to do laundry. *Alexis* needs to do laundry. She's his go-to girl for that stuff.
Ha. Not Kate. She'd look at him funny if he suggested it. Kate can cook; Kate can't clean. Kate can't even remember to do her own laundry. Her side of the closet is also looking sparse lately. She just gets her stuff dry-cleaned.
"Hurry up," her voice calls out, drifting closer.
Castle runs a hand through his hair, starts pulling stuff out of his dirty clothes pile (should be in the hamper, yes, but the hamper is full too).
"You're not dressed," she says from behind him.
He turns to defend himself but her eyes are on his still-damp chest. Castle quirks a grin at her, reaches out to give her a shower-wet hug. Kate jumps back, holding a hand out.
"Wait. I picked up your shirts from the cleaners."
He blinks, arrested by the lunacy of her statement. "You did what?"
"Your shirts."
"My shirts aren't at the cleaners." Castle lifts an eyebrow, tilting his head to study her. Is she. . .crazy?
Kate laughs and steps closer, brushing a finger down his sternum, catching the button of his jeans and tugging. "They were."
He grins and shakes his head, but comes closer, a quick kiss on her cheek, her temple, brushing his hand through her hair. "I didn't-"
"Castle. I did. I took them with my stuff. You were running out of clothes."
His hand goes still against the back of her head.
"You. . .dropped off my shirts at the cleaners and picked them up?"
"With my stuff. Yeah. It's all out in the living room. It's a ton of stuff."
She turns and tugs him towards the door, but he's still gaping over this latest development. Kate just. . .did his laundry. (In a manner of speaking.)
Uh.
Wow.
He follows her back out the living room, walking as if in a daze.
"Wear one of those shirts and come on. I wanna show you something."
"You just did," he breathes, but she must not hear him over the crinkling of plastic as she starts digging through the dry cleaned clothes stacked over the back of the couch.
When she pulls out a plaid shirt and tosses it towards him, he laughs. She took a handful of his shirts to the dry cleaners. Shirts that could go in the washing machine. That he ususally does himself. Not just his dress shirts.
"What?"
"Nah, nothing."
"What, Castle?" She's got her hands on her hips. He notices a cup of coffee with a travel lid on the entryway table, wonders how long she's been out. How many errands she's been running.
"Nothing. You're just." He shrugs. Dares to say it. "You're cute."
Kate startles, her hands dropping from her hips. She opens her mouth, shuts it.
He has a strange feeling that no one has ever called her cute before. Sexy, gorgeous, beautiful. Sure. But cute? She's usually too overwhelmingly beautiful to just be cute. But he keeps seeing it lately.
She clears her throat. "Okay. Well. Um. Get dressed."
Castle is already sliding his arms into his plaid shirt, realizing (somewhat pathetically) that Kate not only did his laundry, but she also picked out what he's wearing today.
And he kind of can't stop smiling.