Author's Note: I noticed in the comments that people were getting confused about why the new captain is named Taylor. Please keep in mind I wrote this in 2011 right after the Season 3 finale, so we didn't know who the new captain was yet.
Also, this fic is now rated M
Rick tried to bring his A-game every single day when he went to the precinct. He knew Captain Taylor was watching him. He would have been able to tell that without his writer instinct. It seemed that every time he turned around (literally) there she was. His people-observing intuition told him that she didn't quite buy in to his "doing research" façade. Then again, after three years and three books, who would?
He and Kate were back to the old selves—taking on one case, knocking it down, and moving on to the next. He could tell she was working harder than usual to prove that her injury would not restrict in the least and it didn't, save that one time at the end of her first week back. She and Esposito were hot on the heels of a runaway suspect, but she pulled back and let Esposito take down the perp. For the rest of the day he noticed her doing more things with her left arm than with her right.
Despite the return to their crime fighting, Rick knew something was off in their partnership. They had moments, now. Not the good, heart-skips-a-beat moments like they had before but awkward moments. They would laugh and share a smile about something and then suddenly she'd stop smiling and look away.
He tried—lord knows he tried. At first, he was subtle. "Hey, are you hungry? I'm starving. Gonna run out for Chinese, what can I get you?" The more walls she put up, the less subtle he became. He invited her to movies, charity events, and even once to a concert, but each time he faced the same response: "Sorry, Castle, I have to work. Maybe some other time."
Six weeks after their return to the precinct, he was at his wits end. He couldn't take anymore; his heart couldn't take anymore. Every moment with her was a cruel joke. He'd seen just how wonderful they could be together. That night they spent in his bed taunted him every time they were together, but she just wasn't giving in, which meant he was left with only one choice: giving up.
"Hey, um, I think I'm gonna head up to the Hamptons tomorrow." It had been yet another grueling week for them, but their murderer was finally behind bars. Kate, Ryan and Esposito were left with stacks of paperwork; he was there for moral support, seated dutifully in the chair beside her desk.
She set down her pen and smiled at him. "Long weekend?"
"No, no I'm going to stay for more than the weekend. A week…maybe two or three."
Her brow rose with surprise. "O-oh? That long?"
"Yeah see my editor has been hounding me for a few chapters of Heat of the Moment and I've been so busy I just can't focus, you know? So I'm gonna go out there, clear my head, and write."
"Well that's good." She nodded to him, picked up her pen and moved on to the next blank form to fill out. "I hope you get lots of work done."
He made to stand up, but could not help himself from making one last effort. "You…you should come with me."
She dropped her pen once more and looked at him wide-eyed. "Come with you?"
"Yeah. Getaway from the city. Rest. Relax. Dare I say it – have some fun," he whispered to her, mustering up as much playfulness as he could.
She parted her lips as though she was going to respond, but no sound came out for several moments. "Y-you know I would like a vacation but I can't. I used up all my time when I was in the hospital."
"And yet somehow leave time after being shot in the line of duty and vacation time is not the same thing," he said pointedly. He stood and turned to leave, but rotated back towards her. "Think about it; it's an open invitation. You know how to get a hold of me if you change your mind." With that and a goodbye to the guys, he disappeared.
For several minutes Kate sat at her desk, staring blankly at the arrest paperwork in front of her. She startled when Esposito rolled up his desk chair beside her. "Go," he said simply.
"Go…where?" she asked with genuine confusion.
"To the Hamptons," Ryan answered when he appeared behind his partner.
She gave them both an annoyed look. "You were listening to us?"
"Maybe. C'mon girl, you gotta go," Esposito encouraged. "If not for you, for us—we wanna know what Castle's beach mansion looks like."
"And what? You girls are afraid he won't invite you?"
"Well he hasn't so far," Ryan said with an almost sigh.
"No, he invited Beckett. It's a shame she's too chicken to go."
Kate rolled her eyes. "Nice try, Esposito, but I know what you're trying to do and it won't work."
He shrugged indifferently. "Whatever. It's your life. If you don't want to have any fun, you don't have to."
It took her another full week to work up the courage to call him. She thought about it just about every second of every day. Every time she sat at her desk and saw that empty chair beside her, her heart ached painfully. She missed his face. She missed the smell of his aftershave. She even missed the way his eyes flickered when he was excited over one of his own outlandish theories.
She must have opened her phone's address book and scrolled down to his name half a dozen times, but each time she closed her phone. She wouldn't give in because she knew exactly what would happen if she did, but damn, did she want to.
Finally, one frustrating evening alone in her bathtub with a drained glass of red wine on the floor beside her she gave in. Her finger pressed down on that small green phone-shaped icon beside his name. She held her breath as it rang in her ear, constantly fighting the terror demanding she hang up. He answered on the fourth ring and she nearly dropped the phone in to the bathwater from nerves.
She somehow managed to have a halfway intelligent conversation with him, asking if it was alright if she came to visit him that Friday shortly after lunch. He agreed happily and told her he couldn't wait for her arrival. She echoed these sentiments, hung up the phone, and then sunk beneath the water wondering what she had just done.
After a grueling few hours of travel, Kate's taxi arrived at his beach home. The gravel drive was gated and a large overgrowth of trees and bushes hid the house from view of the main road. She paid her driver and pulled her overnight bag over her shoulder as she approached.
After searching for a doorbell or callbox for several moments she spotted a keypad along the left side of the gate. When she approached, she spotted a stickie note beside the panel. She snatched it off the wall and read: Kate, the pass code is Nikki Heat's birth year. Hint: you have a lot in common with her. She rolled her eyes slightly and punched the numbers 1-9-8-0. She heard the gate unlock with a click.
Several hundred feet down the gravel drive, the home came in to view. Kate actually stopped walking when she saw it. It was, without a doubt, the most perfect beach home she'd ever seen.
The one-and-a-half story wood shingled structure strongly resembled a cottage straight out of a Disney fairytale. Dozens of windows broke up the sectioned structure, made even more dramatic looking by rooflines and dormer windows. Honestly, she was not sure what she had expected when she thought of his beach home, but it certainly would have been much more elaborate—more Castle—than this homey cottage.
Tucking her hair behind her ears, she continued her trek up the stone path and to the front door. She didn't even have to knock; the door whipped open the second her sneaker hit the front porch. "Kate," he grinned when he pulled the door open. "Welcome."
"H-hi," she smiled, stuffing her hands down in to the pockets of her jean shorts.
"Well come in, don't be shy." He stepped back and allowed her to cross the threshold, swooping in to kiss her cheek when she did so. "Did you find it ok?"
"Yes. Castle, this house is amazing."
"Ah yes. Alexis picked it out when she was five. She said it reminded her of the cottage from Sleeping Beauty."
Kate chuckled. "That's funny; that's exactly what I was thinking."
"Mm," he nodded. "It's a little small—only three bedrooms, two bathrooms—but it has too many memories to sell. C'mon, I'll give you a tour."
He lead the way from the hall, which faced a large staircase, to the left, which held a solarium, which he obviously used as his office due to the large desk with open laptop. Through there, they went around to the back of the house which held a view of the patio and, in the distance, the ocean. The back wall was almost solidly windows, illuminating the kitchen well. The kitchen merged with a dining area and finally a seating area filled with unbelievably comfortable looking sofas.
"You're really going to like this," Rick told her as he led the way to the French doors behind one of the sofas. He opened them both simultaneously, letting their interior curtains billow out like clouds from heaven.
The room concealed behind the doors was obviously the master bedroom. The walls were painted a blue so pale it was almost like clear water. The entire room followed the pale blue and white color pallet with ocean-themed pictures hung all around. The central focus was the canopy bed. White curtains hung at the four corners; they danced around the room as the sea breeze from open windows tickled them. The bed was made with dozens of white pillows and a white comfortable that strongly resembled marshmallows. He was right; she loved it.
"Wow," she concluded, unable to think of any other words.
"I know, isn't it great?" he said with a hint of his infamous child-like excitement. "You can sleep here tonight; I'll take one of the upstairs rooms."
Her head whipped in his direction. "Oh no, Castle, I couldn't. I-"
He held up his hand, refusing her protest. "You'll sleep here tonight."
"Thank you."
He smiled. "Of course. You wouldn't get the full Hamptons experience otherwise. Speaking of—I made dinner reservations for seven. Did you bring that cocktail dress I recommended?"
She nodded and patted her bag. "Got it."
"Excellent. Now I'll let you get settled in. I'll be at my desk if you need anything."
After he disappeared, Kate dropped her bag at the food of the luxurious bed and took one more disbelieving look around the dream-like space. With a heavy exhale, she collapsed back on the mattress and gripped one of the posts. Her heart raced at the prospect of their date that evening, but she did not regret her decision to come. It was bound to be the best vacation she had in years.
"Kate?" Rick stood at the edge of the bedroom doors and called out in the direction of the shut bathroom door. "Are you almost ready?" It was six forty-two and, depending on traffic, it could take up to fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant. In the Hamptons, everything was cutthroat, including dinner reservations. If you didn't make your reservation, they gave your table away and no matter how much he wanted to use his celebrity influence it only went so far. Celebrities all but outnumbered regular people in the Hamptons.
The bathroom door whipped open and Kate appeared in the doorframe. She wore a mid-thigh length black dress with a high halter neck and a keyhole slit in the middle of her chest. Her face was glowing with the lightest touch of makeup and her sexy hair—his favorite feature of hers besides her eyes—was swept back from her face.
She grabbed a clutch purse from the edge of the bed and walked past him in to the sitting room. Two steps later she turned and looked over her shoulder. "Coming?"
"Wha? Oh yeah. I'm coming." To hell with dinner, he thought. He just wanted to stand there and stare at her all night long, but he managed to put one foot in front of the other enough to lead the way to the waiting Mercedes (his "regular" car).
Dinner was just as pristine as he'd imagined it. They had great wine, delicious seafood, and, best of all, not one moment of awkward conversation. They were back to the old Castle and Beckett. Laughing, joking, and teasing one another. They even managed to stick to topics other than work. They spoke about her college years and his early years as a struggling writer.
As they drove home, the sun was just disappearing over the horizon, illuminating the sky with a fiery red glow. On their way back to the house from the car, she stopped on the porch, turned towards the west, and watched the colors fade in the sky. He watched her and saw the simple joy in her face at watching a sunset after a wonderful date.
Much to his surprise, she grabbed his hand in hers and laced their fingers together. He looked down at their joined hands, his heart pumping rapidly in his chest, and then back at her. Could it be the miracle he'd hoped for? Would he get a second chance to show just how much he loved her?
Not a minute later, she dropped her hand from his and turned toward the house. The setting sun was mostly gone; the sky had lost its colored appeal.
Rick unlocked the door of the house and stepped inside feeling rather dejected. He had been so close—so very close. "Well, um," he turned to face her, but with her standing in the shadows of the hall he couldn't met her eye. "I guess I-"
His words were lost when her lips crashed in to his. She gripped his face with both hands for a moment before letting her fingertips comb through his hair and come to rest at the nape of his neck. Using this leverage, she pulled her body closer to his. He responded instinctually and moved his hands from her waist to her back.
"Mm Kate," he mumbled through their kiss, trying to form one logical thought in his brain, but all reason was lost and replaced with pure joy.
"Shh," she hushed him while sliding her hands under his suit jacket and pushing the item off his shoulders. He almost laughed at how similar their conversation was only this time there would be no hang-ups from injury; this was purely about passion.
How they made it to the bedroom without running in to every piece of furniture in their path, he would never know, but before he knew it he was being shoved lightly against the mattress. He landed with a soft thump and, for the first time since their arrival home, caught a glimpse of her expression which he could only describe as purely animalistic.
She dove on his lips once more, her fingers clawing at his belt. With that item gone, she moved to the button and zipper on his pants. As he sat frozen on the bed, she wasted no time in flicking open the button holding the dress straps behind her neck and pulling open the zipper in the middle of her back, allowing the garment to pool at her feet.
She stood before him in a black strapless bra, matching thong, and sky-high heels wearing that oh-so-perfect "Kate Beckett is in charge so watch out" expression. Rick resisted the urge to call out a thank you to God, Karma, and whoever else would listen. This was literally his fantasy come true.
When she came at him like a lioness toward her prey, he was ready for her. Just as their lips touched he wrapped his arm around her waist and flipped her on to the bed. He then kneeled on either side of her leg and engulfed her lips with his. She undid the buttons of his shirt as they kissed, letting him be in charge—for the moment, anyway.
They continued their battle, each one taking their turn undressing, caressing, and kissing the other until the only item that remained were Kate's heels. "Leave 'em on," Rick said devilishly. She arched one eyebrow at him and then laughed as he broke his poker face to wiggle his brows at her.
He took away her laugh by pressing his lips against hers and, a moment later, driving himself in to her. She gasped and clawed at his back as their hips rocked together, each thrust going deeper until they climaxed together and collapsed, panting against the sheets.
After lying still for a minute trying to regulate her breathing, Kate sat up suddenly, untangled her limbs from those of her bedmate and began to unbuckle her shoes. After tossing them aside, she flipped herself over and straddled him, placing one knee on either side of his hip. He gave her a curious expression; she grinned wickedly down at him. "You didn't think we were done, did you, Rick? We're just getting started."