Title: GNO
Rating: K+, for mentions of getting schmammered.
A/N: This story is the extended version of my drabble written in response to the 'club' prompt on the Castle100 LJ community. I didn't want to kill them with 13 100-word drabbles!
Disclaimer: I own nothing
"We have a body?" Castle answered the phone groggily, expecting it to be Beckett.
There was a pause on the other end of the line, before someone other than Beckett replied. "If Kate keeps knocking back Rocket Pops like she's been doing for the last hour, we just might."
He sat up, blinking. "Lanie? Where are you?"
"Kate and I went out for a GNO; she was four shots in when I got there, and finished off two more before she told me she and McDouchebag had broken up." She paused again. "I think you should get down here, Castle."
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The club that Lanie had named was a popular one, and on Friday night the line was wrapped around the building. That wasn't a problem for him, though; he knew the bouncer at the door, as well as the owner, so he walked right up to the front of the line.
"Hey Zeke, how's it going?"
"Mr. Castle," the bouncer greeted. "Good to see you again. Should I let Mr. Mercier know you're here?"
Castle shook his head. "Not tonight. My girl is already inside, and I thought I'd come join her."
Zeke grinned. "Go right on in, Mr. C."
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He spotted Lanie immediately. When he pushed his way through the crowd until he stood beside her, she leaned in so she could be heard over the music. "You didn't take nearly as long as I thought you would. There's a helluva line outside."
He shrugged. "Being famous has perks, sometimes." He scanned the room. "Where is she?"
Lanie pointed to the dance floor. He had to scan it twice before he saw her, and when he did his jaw dropped.
She was… well, you could call it dancing, but it was more like grinding on the guy behind her.
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"Lanie, what…"
"She's been on the floor for hours. Only time she takes a break is to get another drink. I can't convince her to go home, and I'm about done with having my ass grabbed whenever I go and try to talk some sense into her. Figured you might have a better shot."
He nodded, scowling as he saw the hands of the man she was dancing with start to roam. Given the fact that she hadn't pulled out a gun and shot the bastard, Castle guessed she was pretty far gone.
Castle decided to shoot him for her.
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"I've got this," he assured her.
"Mmm-hmm. Just be sure to keep it in your pants, Writer-Boy."
He looked offended, and a little bit sad. His eyes darted over to her, but then refocused on Kate. "Not like this, Lanie. Never like this. She means too much to me."
"Well, at least one of you will admit it," Lanie muttered, and he smiled slightly.
"I've never been the one with the problem," he said. He looked her over, tipping his head to the side. "Want me to call you a cab?"
"Just take care of our girl," she instructed.
"Always."
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Castle kept an eye on Beckett, but also watched to make sure Lanie made it safely to the door. He saw her stop to talk to Zeke, who took two steps to the curb and flagged down a taxi. After she slipped in and it drove off, he turned his full attention back to the dance floor.
She was dancing with somebody else now, someone whose hands were even bolder than the guy before.
Yup, time to put a stop to that right now.
With purposeful strides, he walked out onto the dance floor, ignoring the women eying him appreciatively.
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Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and a big grin spread across her features.
She took a step towards him, but then frowned and looked back when the asshat behind her grabbed her wrist to stop her.
Castle couldn't help it; he got right up in the guy's face. He was taller, better muscled, and pissed off that this guy was manhandling Beckett.
"I'd say she's done dancing with you, buddy… if you have any sense of self-preservation, back off. Now."
Wisely, the idiot took the hint, sparing only a wistful glance at Kate before scurrying off.
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"Castle!" she protested. "You scared him off! We were dancing!"
"Dancing, huh?" he said with a smile.
"Yup," she confirmed. "Lanie was here too; we were having fun." She scanned the room, looking confused. "Where's Lanie?"
"I saw her on my way out," he reassured her. "She had to get home, so she asked me to come hang out with you."
Kate huffed. "Babysit me, you mean."
He didn't deny it. "She was worried about you."
"I can take care of myself, Castle," she growled.
"I don't doubt it. And since you're fine, and we're both here… dance with me."
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She was trying to kill him; that was the only logical explanation. Drunk or not, she seemed well aware of the effect she had on him, and her inhibitions had been lowered (obliterated) sufficiently that she seemed to be using every opportunity to drive him completely insane.
While he was being careful to keep his hands in a 'safe zone', she was making no such effort. Her hands trailed across his chest, ran through his hair, and he nearly had a heart attack when they ran along the waistband of his jeans.
Then she upped the ante. She kissed him.
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It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to pull away.
"Kate… no," he rasped, managing to pin her roving hands.
"Why not, Rick," she said in a sultry voice that shot straight to his groin. "I know you want me."
It was not helping his concentration that her entire body was pressed against him.
Castle closed his eyes. She was right; he did want her. And tonight, right now, he knew he could have her. But he couldn't, could he?
'Sooo unfair,' he thought, sighing.
The Universe was having a huge laugh at his expense right about now.
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"You'd hate me in the morning," he carefully tried to explain. "I'd hate me in the morning. I do want you, Kate… I have for years… but not when you're drunk."
"I'm not drunk," she protested. "I just feel… shiny."
"Mmm-hmm," he said. "Kate, you're completely schmammered." He paused. "I don't want it to be just sex."
Her eyes met his, and he could swear she was almost sober. "Me either."
He inhaled sharply. After all this time, hearing her say those words… she wanted him.
And then she lost her balance and giggled when he caught her. Damnit.
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Somehow, with some serious ingenuity and a bribe or two, he convinced her to let him take her back to his place. He could tell that her buzz was starting to wear off as the post-drinking exhaustion settled in, so he ended up carrying her upstairs to his loft.
His mother, who was awake for some unknown reason, offered only a raised eyebrow as he came through the front door carrying a giggling detective. He could only copy one of Beckett's habits and roll his eyes in response before turning and making his way upstairs to the guest bedroom.
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He settled her into the bed and tucked her in, then he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead.
"Bathroom's right across the hall if you need it," he told her. "Sleep tight."
"You're not staying?" she protested weakly.
"I'll be right next door," he told her. "And if you still want to, we'll talk in the morning."
"Promise?" she mumbled.
"Promise."
"Okay," she said contentedly, snuggling deeper under the covers.
He'd just made it to the door when she stopped him. "Castle?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for being there tonight, when I needed you."
He smiled softly. "Always."
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A/N: I don't know why ending stories with Castle saying "always" is so damn awesome, but it is. The shot mentioned in this fic, a Rocket Pop, was invented/perfected by a local bartender in my town who I went to college with (you'll find a few variants online, but they are nowhere NEAR as amazing). It's a layered shot, so care during assembly is crucial; mix grenadine and vodka for the bottom layer (red), sour mix for the middle layer (clear), and blue Curacao for the top (blue). Knock back the whole thing all at once; it tastes JUST like the old-school popsicles you had as a kid. Freaking deadly, because you're totally faced before you realize it.
For the record, I have knocked back as many of these shots as our darling Detective (estimates are about 12 over 3 hours, but I was drinking other things too). Not one of my finer moments, believe me, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Later…not so much.