Castle and Beckett eventually arrived at Castle's loft to find that no one was home. Yet anyways. So after finding a quick makeshift crib for Angelica he came back and walked to his fridge pulling out two Blue Moons.
"Do you ever run out of drinks?"
"Not when I live with my mother." She smiled and popped the top with the bottle opener he had handed her. She turned around in the stool and took a sip. He came over and sat next to her and took a swig of his own rocky mountain cold beer. As soon as he set his beer on the counter a loud thud sounded from above and a chorus of giggles. Beckett looked at him.
"So how many is this?" He gave her a look and walked to the top of the stairs.
"Alexis? Mother?" The giggling stopped and footsteps came from above Beckett. He looked over at her and mouthed to three. "I brought Angelica." He called up and barely finished before he was bombarded by Martha and Alexis.
"Where is she?"
"Can we go see her?" They were firing off questions faster than he could interpret them.
"First of all what were you doing in there?"
"We were playing twister with a suitcase." Alexis chuckled. He sighed and decided he should just point them in the direction of where they should go. They waved their hello's as they passed the grinning detective.
"Guess you were right." Beckett looked over at him as he sighed.
"When am I not?" She took a sip as she heard the soft talk of Alexis and Martha. He grabbed his and grabbed a coaster. He set his on one and hers on another. They came out again Martha holding Angelica and smiling. Alexis's smile couldn't have gotten wider.
"She is the cutest thing in the world." Alexis had grabbed the bag and set it within reach. "It's good to see you too Detective." Martha nodded in her direction.
"Always nice to see a friendly face after work." She smirked.
"You know Richard was just talkin – "Castle cut her off.
"No need to ruin her day." Martha gave him a look and walked off.
"We'll be upstairs." Alexis gave a look to Martha that suggested she had no idea what she was talking about. Martha shooed her up the stairs. Angelica amazed by all the new faces reaching out at Alexis and Martha's bright colored hair. Beckett looked over at him.
"You were talking about me?" He had a sheepish look.
"No - I mean you know how they can be. Them and their imaginations. They probably imagined that I was talking about you and – it doesn't really matter." He tried to get out.
"For someone who works with words, he sure stumbles when it counts." He sighed.
"I've heard that before." She slowly blinked in his direction trying to think of who could have said it to him. Besides herself of course. He looked at her and got up like the chair was it had suddenly come ablaze. He walked over to the other side of the counter. "You haven't eaten yet, have you?" He knew the answer already given the way he phrased it. She shook her head and he lit up. He began moving around the kitchen in a storm. Chopping here, tasting there, a little bit of everything everywhere he went. She hadn't realized she finished her drink until he placed another one in front and took away the empty. It was hard keeping an eye on him so she decided to watch what he was making instead. It wasn't a recipe she could think of right away, but whatever is it was smelled great. The sound of walking came up behind her and chattering like birds ensued. Four plates were set out one in front of each of the now talking occupant.
"So Beckett, Richard has told us much about you dealing with Angelica, but we haven't heard your side."Martha prodded.
"Oh," She took another sip knowing she might need it. "It's new. I hadn't expected her to be so corporative. Most of the time you see little kids on TV throwing tantrums, or screaming constantly, but she is a sweetheart really." Martha and Alexis smirked a bit without looking at each other. She was going to ask them what was so funny when Castle came over.
"Dinner's done." He looked at the time. "Well a later dinner." She nodded a silent thanks. Then she looked at what he had made.
"What is this?" She said in amazement. It looked like it belonged in a Martha Stewart magazine. She almost didn't want to eat it. Almost.
"Oh, just shrimp caprese. It was an easy make." Martha and Alexis were already eating, clearly used to the Martha Stewart cooking. Beckett took a bite and instantly wished she could live off of this forever. The pasta and the shrimp complemented each other so well it was hard to tell when one ended and the other began.
"Can I just hire you to cook at my place all the time?" She said when she could finally speak.
"Sorry I've been claimed." He motioned to the two already almost done. Martha and Alexis were speaking to each other in hushed voices. Beckett slightly jerked her chin in their direction. He shrugged. "I don't even know." Martha and Alexis both finished and stuck their dishes in the sink. Alexis shouted something about her cleaning them later as she walked up the stairs. She eventually finished her dinner and he took her dishes.
"What if I wanted to lick the plate?"
"You lucked out then." He smirked. She gave him a look then straightened in her chair.
"How is it that you can cook so well when you have a mother like Martha?"
"I used to watch the cooking channels as a kid. My mother was the one who watched them and wished she could cook like they can." He shrugged and went to give her another drink when she shook her head.
"Do you want me drunk?"
"You never struck me as a lightweight."
"You'd be surprised."
"Would I?" She turned her head slightly up.
"No but I'm glad you think I could use a drink."
"I see what you go through every day. I can only imagine how that affects your mental health."
"Oh, it does enough." She smirked. "I take a tall water, shaken not stir. On the rocks." He grabbed her a glass of water with some ice. "Not as fancy as I imagined it to be." She taunted.
"I have nothing to work with, just water and frozen water."
"Excuses." She took a sip. "Didn't even get a pink umbrella." He blew off her comment.
"Just drink your water." He waved his hand in the direction of the now sweating glass.