2nd February
She flicks him a sideways glance as she speaks to Esposito, words he doesn't understand, before both men are hurrying past him to catch the elevator before it closes after his exit. He'd catch it for them but he's got to juggle his coffee, her coffee and the box nestled gingerly beneath his coffee cup, his second gift. Another small thing, he's got to keep it small, subtle otherwise she'll freak out, or refuse them. Later on they can increase in size, once she's comfortable with this, once she's worked out it's not so bad.
She smiles as he approaches. "Morning Castle." It's soft, distracted, but she is completely aware of his presence. She's already got her hand positioned halfway across her desk, awaiting her coffee.
He's setting down the beverage, hovering it over the table, positioning it so she can grab it and he can set his own down, but she takes it before he gets a chance. She's taken a long drag before he's even realised he's just set his curved hand onto the desk, as if the cup still occupies the space. He's too busy watching her to even care. He's lucky that she's flipping through papers, eyes scanning quickly as she searches for something in the small text. He can't help the smile which spreads across his face as he removes his hand from the table. He decides now is as good a time as any to take the box from beneath his cup. He flicks his eyes to the empty desks of the other detectives, he's glad Ryan and Esposito have just been sent away. He knows they won't let him live this one down, but he's positive she'll appreciate it.
"Busy morning?" he asks casually, leaning back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of his, taking his own long drag of coffee. He's not going to draw her attention to the box he has his hand curled around, she'll see it soon enough. He doesn't ask if she got yesterday's gift, he doesn't need to.
"The guys have just gone to haul our guy in. Nothing else exciting." She shrugs, still absorbed in the paper, not meeting his gaze. Damn, he wants her to look at him so he can slide the box across her desk.
"What's all this?" he asks as he steals a piece of paper to snoop, not really caring, just wanting her attention, wanting to cause trouble.
"Castle," she warns, snatching the paper back and restoring it to its rightful place within her pile. She still hasn't looked at him for more than a fleeting second, whatever she's got in front of her is holding her interest. It must be a crucial component. He realises he's got very little chance right now.
"Financials? Phone records?" He's guessing, taking wild stabs in the dark as he sits upright in his chair, leaning over to see what she does.
"Phone records." She's distracted as she says it, holding two pieces of paper side-by-side, it looks like she's found whatever she's looking for when she grabs a highlighter and slides it across the page. "We've got him." It's not the first time she's smiled since he's been there. This smile though makes the one before look like she was holding back slightly, anxious still about the case. He really should pay more attention to the nuances of her smiles, it's difficult though, they used to be so rare that it didn't matter what type they were, that he was just happy when she smiled. But now, she smiles so much more, it's like she's lighter, like a weight has lifted. This one is one of those, like another weight has lifted off her and she can relax. Sure she still has to crack their guy, force a confession or trick him with a lie. But they both know she'll be able to.
He's so absorbed in her smile he forgets that he's been waiting for her to turn and face him, just like she is now. She's got her arms folded as she leans on the table, her body directed toward him and the coffee cup once against nestled in her hand. He blinks and steals a glance at the box, checking it is still in fact there. When he glances back up at her she's raised the cup, hiding her smile behind it as she takes another long drag. He knows she uses this time to plan out her interrogation, but he needs to break her ravine for a moment. Then she can bury herself in those thoughts.
As she lowers her head, apparently already reaching the bottom of her coffee, he slides the box forward as she gives her cup a gentle swirl, either checking the level or stirring the dregs. It doesn't matter, she'll see it in a second. He's barely made a dent in his coffee, so he turns his attention to that to avoid continuing to focus on her. still, he watches her from the corner of his eye.
At his movement she flicks her eyes to the table then tosses him a quizzical look.
"What is that?" she asks, confused.
He swallows his coffee, meeting her gaze as he sets the cup on the table, toying with it with his fingers, shifting it across her desk slightly, fidgeting, stalling. Then when she opens her mouth to ask again, as if he hadn't heard he speaks.
"A cupcake," he responds finally. It's matter-of-fact and his shrug adds to the effect. He watches as her eyes dart to the object then steal a glance back at his face, disbelief and confusion more than evident on her features.
"Why?" she asks, still confused.
"Just changing things up. You can't eat bear claws all the time." He doesn't shrug his shoulders this time, just gives what he hopes is a gentle smile, attempting to encourage her to relax. He's not going to tell her he had to go ten minutes out of his way this morning to pick it up, that's not important.
"I can't eat that for breakfast, Castle," she observes, already grabbing the small box from her desk and moving to shove it in her drawer, out of sight.
"Save it then," he says softly, touching her wrist as she moves toward one of two options – the bin or the drawer. He doesn't think she'd throw it away, but just in case he twitches his fingers over her skin for a second, a silent plea to not throw it away once he blinks, or even before. But she averts her eyes and proceeds to open the drawer with her other hand, an assurance. Only once she's flicked her eyes up to meet his again, confused but agreeing, does she proceed to take the cupcake from her own hand and move it to the drawer.
If the faint rattle in her desk drawer is any indication, she won't be throwing the cupcake away, not now and certainly not later. She's apparently heeded his advice from yesterday and put the beans in her drawer. It makes him smile again, wider, forgetting to put his guard up, forgetting he's still sliding his fingers over her skin, forgetting she's letting him or ignoring him as he stares at her intently. Lucky for him, she's busying herself with shifting her stapler to nestle the cupcake in the top corner.
She's nodding, averting her gaze a little and glancing around the room to check for observers. But the glances she keeps stealing back at him suggest she doesn't mind his intent gaze or the fact his fingers are still at her wrist, his touch feather light.
"I'll buy you another cup once we break this guy. It can be celebratory." It is a promise, not a request. He hasn't even bothered to suggest he'll join her, it's her choice. He doesn't even have to be a part of it. These tiny gifts are for her, to give her something concrete to finally take a step toward admission. He needs her to know he's not going anywhere, that no matter how long it takes her to feel ready (he knows that she's not quite ready, he's not stupid) he will be here. But he needs to give her a shove in the right direction, a tiny, tiny shove for the next few days to convince her to give him a shot. These gifts are just something to show her, an excuse to force some form of conversation about their situation, even if it's just her speaking the volumes as expressions cross her face before she smiles and nods in thanks, accepting. That's all he wants is for her to accept it.
They both pretend they don't know it, but they both know how they feel. They both know the shivers that seep through them as soon as the other touches them, even if he is just ushering her through a doorway during a case. He's seen her pull her shoulders up and arch her neck a little, he always brushes it off as the temperature change, but really it's not. It is because of him. He knows she's seen him do the same when she takes a coffee, dragging her fingers over his as she grasps the cup, deliberate or not he has to grip her cup a little tighter in response, to control his own fingers. Then it's just the start of a vicious cycle, until he has to blink or swallow and consciously force himself to let go. He's seen her meet his gaze, seen her concern, her understanding. It is because of her. They both know it. He thinks it's time to at least stop denying it so much, even if they don't move forward right now, she needs to know he's there. He needs to rid her of lingering doubts, they're there, surrounding her, enveloping her in her fears, her concerns – if they weren't there he would be in their place, surrounding her, enveloping her quashing all fears and concerns with his touch, his certainty. That's why he needs to shove, just a tiny, tiny bit, until she sees it. Even if it's just for a second before she pulls back, decides she has to wait for other reasons. He's okay with that, as long as she sees it.
She nods again, the only response she can muster under his intense gaze, under his feather light touch as his fingers graze the smooth underside of her wrist. She decides she has to avert her attention from him, stop her eyes darting between his fingers and his eyes and his clenched jaw. She has to withdraw her hand and get back to work. She has to force his intensity from her mind, shake off the shivers threatening the erupt from her nerve endings and swallow against the urge to eat the cupcake. It's too early in the morning for this kind of distraction. At least Esposito and Ryan will return with their suspect soon, they'll leave him in the interrogation room and stare him down through the mirror, and she'll have to share her plan of attack with her team, or at least the evidence she has mounted against the guy in their absence. At least that's a good excuse to pull away, steel herself against her responses to him and avoid him until the return of the others, until she has to force her body to behave under their observant glare.
He seems to understand her retreat and backs out of her workspace, she's grateful. He understands if she doesn't have something to give the guys, then an onslaught of teasing will ensue. And it will be at both their expense. The worst part of it would be? Most of it would be accurate. What had they been doing during their absence? She didn't want to even give them a chance to raise such a question. She wasn't even sure what they were doing herself, so answering to an interrogation from them was not an option, not when she should be the one instigating it, directing it at their suspect.
She doesn't have to glance at him to know he's still staring at her, lost in his own thoughts and ideas. But he doesn't say anything more. There is no need. He understands.
She's going to have to go down and grab lunch midway through this interrogation – another opportunity to make this guy sweat. She'll pick up something for Castle as well. Something she can pull out when he drops another coffee on her desk in the afternoon. She knows he'll appreciate it. It's his second effort in as many days. The least she can do is reciprocate with some effort of her own. Even if the only thing she can think of that he'll enjoy that is within walking distance is a chocolate cookie the size of her hand.
She knows he will appreciate the gesture.
She appreciates his gesture. The fact he's headed several blocks out of his way to get her a cupcake from the little known bakery near his loft. He probably doesn't realise she recognises the packaging, it doesn't matter he's ignoring the fact he went out of his way to buy a cupcake so she will too, for now. Yes, the ones from that particular bakery are amazing, but something from the coffee shop he gets their coffee from would have sufficed, the gesture would have been the same. Except it's not at all the same. He went out of his way, again, to do something nice.
She'll have to tell him later to stop going out of his way for these things, the beans had been from a shop across town and now the cupcake. She wonders what he's up to. Why this sudden effort. It isn't unusual he insists on stopping for lunch or dinner. But that's mainly because his stomach is growling so he is assuming she's too distracted to notice her own, too caught up in work to stop and eat. So he prods her. She doesn't refuse, just picks at it when she's not feeling up to eating. It always seems to appease him. But lately she has been better. She's even tried to be the one suggesting they stop for a break every so often. He'd joked about it the second time she did. The first he'd regarded her warily, worried. She knows she's a little thinner at the moment, but surely he wouldn't bring that up, he's not stupid.
But this can't be about that can it? He would never suggest such a thing, not even as a joke or in passing. That knowledge is as confusing as the gifts themselves. It makes her wonder, what the hell is he playing at?
She doesn't have time to consider the answer to her own question, Esposito and Ryan and bundling their guy off the elevator his hands cuffed behind his back, their hands firmly locked under his armpits as they haul him towards interrogation room three. Damn, so much for going back to work. She stands up to follow them despite her lack of preparation, she's got enough on this guy that she can wing it. He's not her concern though, the two detective's flicking their heads, urging her over, are her only concern.