Chapter 4: The Vixens

The morning light filtered through the half-drawn curtains, allowing a stray ray of sunshine to land on Beckett's face. That lonely ray of sun was enough to make her open her eyes, and she found herself curled in a corner of the bed, tightly clutching the thin blanket draped over her. She stretched her aching muscles, rubbing a hand at the back of her neck in an attempt to release some of the tension from her shoulders.

She'd been in and out of slumber all night, spending more time restless than asleep. Every time she'd opened her eyes, she'd seen Castle's sleeping form on the rug, and was instantly flooded with guilt from her actions the night before. But closing them did not help, either, because the moment they slipped shut, all she could see was Castle's face, his affection for her showing so clearly in his eyes as his declaration from the night before played on a loop in her brain.

I just wanted to spend time with you outside of the precinct.

Beckett had spent the majority of the night trying to force the image out of her mind, but no matter what she did, she couldn't erase his words from her mind. They were tormenting her, forcing her to consider issues she wasn't ready to face just yet.

She rolled over with as little motion as she could manage and peeked over the edge of the bed, trying to see if Castle was still in the room. Beckett felt like a child spying on her parents, a sensation that was amplified when her eyes landed on Castle, still sprawled on the rug and hugging his pillow as if it were a teddy bear.

Looking back at it now, Beckett knew that it had been much easier to get angry at Castle last night than to admit to herself the reason why having to feign a relationship with him got the best of her. And, if she were being truthful, she liked the feeling of being his girlfriend much more than she was willing to admit.

It was far too early in the morning for her to be thinking about these things, though. Convincing herself that she would feel better after a cup of coffee, Beckett showered and dressed in record time, tiptoeing out of the room before Castle could wake up. As soon as she entered the spacious kitchen, she spotted the coffee machine, instantly drawn toward it like it had some magnetic pull. She hadn't taken more than two steps when Patricia materialized in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.

"Good morning, darling!" How the woman could be so chipper at this time of day was beyond Beckett. Patricia didn't seem to take the hint in her groan of response, because she kept talking. "How did you sleep?"

"Not very well, actually," Beckett answered honestly, keeping her eyes on the coffee machine. Her mouth was watering at the prospect of caffeine, and she took a single step to the side, hoping to pass by her friend. "So, if you'll excu…"

"Yes, I'm sure arguing can have that effect on people," Patricia interrupted, mirroring Beckett's movements to block her path once again.

With those words, Beckett instantly forgot about the coffee. "I'm sorry?" she stuttered.

"Oh, don't worry, dear. I wasn't spying on you, of course. My bedroom is just below yours, and the walls here are really thin," Patricia assured her. "Apparently, Albert's grandfather thought it was too expensive to pay for good materials, so it is what it is. We've been thinking about changing that, obviously, but with the wedding preparations… But anyway, what is the problem? Is there anything I can help you with?" For an instant, a flash of real concern crossed Patricia's features, which didn't make any sense- if the woman had actually heard their argument last night, she had to know that they had been lying to her the whole time.

"I thought you heard us last night," Beckett frowned in confusion.

"I did, but I couldn't make out any words," Patricia explained, her eyes dropping to the ground for a moment before she looked back up at Beckett with expectation.

"Oh, nothing serious, don't worry." Beckett kept her tone light, trying to deflect the question. "It's just been a stressful couple of weeks, that's all."

"Ah, I have exactly what you need," Patricia declared with a bright glint in her eyes, practically bouncing on her toes. She allowed a dramatic pause, and Beckett felt the apprehension beginning to form in her chest. "A girls day out!" her host exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement.

And just like that, the apprehension turned into horror.

Patricia continued her explanation of the day's activities, but none of that chatter registered with Beckett- not until she heard her friend's plans for the men. "The boys will do… boy things, I guess. Albert hasn't arrived yet, but he didn't want anyone to miss the fun. Come on, you can be apart from your boyfriend for a morning, can't you?"

Beckett found herself stuck between a rock and a hard place, forced to choose between spending the day with Patricia and her obnoxious friends or facing Castle… tough call.

Her musings- and Patricia's babbling- were interrupted by Castle's arrival in the kitchen, bags under his eyes and rubbing his shoulders. His eyes landed on Beckett for a second, but just as fast, his features hardened, and he turned on his heels and made a beeline for the coffee machine. Decision made for her, Beckett turned to Patricia.

"I'll get my purse."

Rick Castle was no stranger to hangovers. His years of book release parties as a best-selling author had taught him how to survive even the worst of them. But even they hadn't prepared him for that morning. On a scale from one to ten, with ten being awful, the feeling churning in his guts would be off the charts. And alcohol wasn't even involved.

He didn't sleep more than two hours last night, too busy tossing and turning on the dusty rug that smelled like naphthalene. At least he had all the blankets- except the one he had thrown over Beckett after she fell asleep (he wasn't that stone-hearted)- and all the pillows, so the cold hadn't been an issue.

No, what had kept him awake all night was the feeling- the certainty- of having pushed Beckett too far. She had snapped last night, and he was sure she didn't mean even half of the accusations she had thrown his way. He certainly didn't mean everything he'd said.

Castle was angry, yes, but it was more than just that; he was deeply hurt, and sad. Sad over what now would never be, over the loss of a potential relationship that he was sure could have been the greatest thing in his life- besides his little girl, of course.

That's why, when he entered the kitchen after the shortest shower in history, he couldn't bring himself to face Beckett. He knew he should be angry with her, but she had looked so… guilty, hopeless, like a child who knows they've done something wrong. Judging by the look on her face, he could tell that the guilt was gnawing at her insides, so for once in their relationship- or whatever it was they had- he was the one to avoid her gaze. For the first time, he'd been the one to choose to run, to defend himself.

And, of course, Patricia had picked up on his body language, and soon came his way, like she was on a mission. Thankfully, Beckett had disappeared back upstairs.

"So, Rick, Katie's telling me-" she animatedly began.

"Not now, Patricia." She visibly recoiled with his words, and he chastised himself for his lack of tact. "I'm sorry. I just didn't sleep very well, but that's not an excuse… Please, forgive me." With that, he left her there, darting away before she could start talking again.

While he poured himself some coffee in a desperate attempt to shake off his daze, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering. He'd thought a weekend pretending to be a couple would be fun, but as usual, he had ended up screwing it up big time.

Over the past year, he had come to realize his feelings for Beckett were much stronger than he thought. At first, pursuing her had been like a challenge; a game. He wanted to see how long would Beckett be able to resist his charm. The cat-and-mouse chase that happened prior to a relationship was always fun, but honestly, it had never been as thrilling with anyone else as it had been with Beckett. The give and take with her allured him just as much as the prospect of being with her. It was their game, and they were pretty good at it.

However, the Dick Coonan case- and the very real possibility of losing her- made him open his eyes, and he finally realized that a single night with Beckett would never be enough. If he was honest with himself, Castle had to admit that, deep down, he had been aware of that fact since the night she told him about the watch adorning her wrist and the necklace concealed underneath her clothes. The serial killer case had only served to solidify his feelings for her.

In the end, it had taken a whole evening of pretending to be her boyfriend to make him fully open his eyes and see what had been in his heart for a really long time.

He was more than just halfway in love with Kate Beckett, and if he wasn't careful, he could end up pressuring her too much and losing her forever. That's why, when the men invited him to spend the day with them, he turned down the invitation in favor of staying at the house or strolling down the beach to reorganize his thoughts.

Beckett had never missed Lanie as much as in that moment, surrounded by harpies who exuded both money and venom, shopping for a dress that she couldn't afford to attend a party her nerves wouldn't tolerate.

They had been in every single boutique of the commercial zone of the Hamptons, each one more expensive than the previous. Patricia had insisted on buying a new outfit for that night's celebration, declaring that she didn't have anything "glamorous" enough in her closet. Beckett hadn't realized that the dinner would be a black-tie event, meaning that all the clothes she brought would be of no use. That was the problem of last-minute packing, especially without expecting to stay all weekend. She had enough clothes, yes, but nothing that could be worn to a fancy soiree.

So she had tried on every dress that she found on the sales racks in the stores, but none of them had caught her eye. In the last store, however, right as she was about to throw in the towel, she spotted the perfect one. It was a short, black, strapless dress, not very elaborate, but elegant in its simplicity. It wasn't too over the top, and it would serve her purposes just fine. The tag had more numbers that she would have liked, but it would be worth it just to see Castle's face when he saw her in it.

She instantly scolded herself for thinking that. Buying an outfit just to taunt her partner was a dangerous thing to do, and that wasn't enough rationalization to purchase an expensive dress she'd likely never wear again. Just as she was about to place it back on the rack, she heard a voice in her head that sounded just like Lanie telling her-–no; demanding her—to get the dress. So she didn't question herself any further, folding the dress over her arm and taking confident strides toward the cashier.

Later, when even their credit cards looked tired, the group went to lunch together. The party was made up of a total of twelve women, all of them except Beckett cast from the same mold, from the tips of their Jimmy Choos to the beauty salon hairstyles, not to mention their perfect manicures and magazine-worthy outfits. Beckett wouldn't feel more out of place if she were hanging out with a gang of junkie bikers. At least with the bikers, she'd probably be able to find a topic of conversation that didn't give her a headache.

Beckett had desisted from learning the names of her companions three boutiques ago, so to tell them apart, she had numbered them in her head in order of toxicity. That way, the stunning brunette who didn't cease to make cutting remarks about how she couldn't understand that a man like Castle was in a relationship with a cop was Vixen #1. The redhead who looked a little like Meredith and who had spent all dinner the previous night stalking Castle- to the writer's horror- was Vixen #2. The list went on until the most harmless of them all, a lady who hadn't made any comment about Castle, but had criticized Beckett's eyes for not being "green enough." She was, by default, Vixen #11.

The women might as well have been speaking another language- this world of riches and brand names and lavish parties was so foreign to Beckett, she couldn't possibly understand what they were talking about. Rather than try to follow the conversation, she focused on the meal- some sort of seafood soup with a French name- not making eye contact with anyone in the hope that no one would speak to her directly. Unfortunately, she could feel Patricia's eyes tearing a hole in her skull, not missing a single detail of what was going on. Finally, at some point in the conversation, the blonde woman decided to involve Beckett in it.

"You know, Katie is a little off today. There's been some trouble in Paradise with Rick, so she needs our help," Patricia announced, to Beckett's dismay and horror.

Automatically, all of the women around her started to cluck, offering advice and stories about their own relationships. As much as she despised such invasion of her privacy, Beckett recognized Patricia's attempt as an invitation to their "club", in which the truth shone behind the perfect life façade, and all of them helped each other to rant and rave about the unfairness of their comfortable life. Even Patricia shared some of her story and frustration towards Albert, who was yet to show up at his own engagement party.

The conversation then focused on the commodities they all had and the "problems" they had to face, like rogue butlers, nannies who enjoyed partying a little too much, or workaholic husbands who tried to compensate their lack of attention by splurging money on expensive gifts, which did nothing to placate their greedy wives. The more they told her, the more Beckett realized that Castle was as out of that world as she was- that he was a normal person, and that the millionaire playboy image was nothing but that, an image.

"Rick is not that bad, you know," she intervened at some point of the conversation, tired of the other women's bad judgements of him. "Actually, he's very sweet."

"How so?" one of the Vixens asked.

"Well, he brings me coffee every morning," Beckett offered.

"In person?" asked Patricia, disbelief in her tone.

Beckett nodded. "Of course."

"How romantic!" Vixen #11 squealed, causing Beckett to rethink her name. Maybe she wasn't so bad, after all.

"Are you kidding me?" Vixen #3 intervened. "That tactic could use some work. I mean, if he had it delivered, with a special breakfast and a note, that would be romantic. In person? It seems to me that the only reason he does that is because he gets bored at home."

Beckett felt the pressing need to grind her teeth, but she didn't do or say anything. It would be of no use to explain to these women that a personal relationship couldn't be based on checks or expensive gifts. A gesture as simple as bringing her a cup of coffee every morning said more than she had come to think until then. It was true that Castle could hire somebody to fetch her latte.

But that wasn't his goal, Beckett realized. Castle could stay at home. After all, Beckett doubted that he needed to spend all those hours in the precinct to write his books. Castle went to the 12th to be with her. And he made the effort of waking up early every day and going to a coffee shop to buy Beckett her favorite beverage, just because he knew that made her happy. How had she not noticed how meaningful that small gesture was until then, seeing it through the eyes of a bunch of witches?

One of them that, judging by the botox signs on her face, refused to accept her age, intervened in the conversation. "The simple gestures are cute, no doubt, but they're not enough, if you ask me. Has he done anything big to let you know that he cares? That's the real question," she added, a wistful tone in her voice.

Even in her haze of indignation, Beckett still felt the need to defend Castle. "When my apartment exp… when I had to temporarily leave my apartment," she corrected, not wanting to let these women know what had actually happened, "he let me stay at his home, with his family."

"Family?" Patricia inquired.

"Yes, his mother and daughter."

"Ugh! And he made you put up with them?," Vixen number whatever said.

"Yeah, with the kind of money he has, he could have booked a suite for the two of you," Vixen #11 chimed in. "Instead, he makes you stay with the daughter. And the mother! What a douchebag! And I'm not even going to ask why he still lives with his mother."

Okay, now she is officially Vixen #1, Beckett thought.

The more she heard, the more Beckett realized it was useless to try and have a civilized conversation with that coven of witches. Honestly, if they were incapable of understanding the relevance of someone literally opening the doors to their home for them, Beckett felt sorry for them.

For a moment, she wondered how Castle was able to put up with being included in such a group. But of course, Castle was not really a part of that had the money, yes, but it was what he decided to do with it that defined him in the end. With his name and his bulky wallet, he could easily make his way into a gentlemen's club like the ones the husbands, fiancés or boyfriends of the ladies clucking around Beckett frequented. Instead, he prefered to spend his time shadowing her- a nobody; just a simple cop. It was true that Castle enjoyed the police work with a child-like enthusiasm, because it allowed him to become the protagonist of his childhood fantasies, but Beckett had started to wonder if he wasn't neglecting his real job because of that. When did he find the time to write? When he wasn't at the precinct, it was because Alexis needed him with her. His first priority was his daughter, but where did writing fit into his life? Considering the amount of hours he had spent the previous year at the 12th, it was a miracle he was able to finish Heat Wave on time.

No, Castle wasn't like the rest of snobbish millionaire boys that Beckett hated so much. In fact, most of the time, she didn't even notice the scale of his fortune. If she was thinking about his wealth now, it was due exclusively to their location. She often felt inadequate in comparison with the millionaire author, but being with him in the Hamptons- and not just with him; she was in the company of the heirs of the biggest fortunes on the East coast- made her feel more out of place than ever. She did not belong here, at all- not with these riches, and certainly not with these people.

What felt like hours later, the conversation finally died down around her, and Patricia stood up, reading the atmosphere at the table and taking her cue.

"Girls, as much as I'm enjoying this outing, I think we should head back to the house. I'm sure our men are dying to see us."

Thank goodness. Not even the most painful of torture sessions lasted forever.

Patricia's announcement was received with a chorus of giggles, coupled with a few exasperated sighs. "I truly envy single girls sometimes," Vixen #5 declared, flipping her hair behind her shoulder. "They have no idea of what we, the normal people, have to put up with!"

Even though the women were being every bit as annoying as usual, Beckett felt a smile blossoming on her lips. Of course, she was glad to be getting rid of the Coven for a couple of hours, but she couldn't deny that she was itching to see Castle again. Her talk with the Harpies had made her see at their relationship from another angle, opening her eyes to how good she actually had it, and she now felt a warm sensation when she thought of him.

Fondness. That was it. At first, Castle had been a thorn in her side; some annoying idiot who made her life harder. But over time he had become her friend, and Beckett was not ashamed to admit- at least, to herself- that she was quite fond of him. As for the rest of her feelings for Castle… she would find a name for them later.

She was still mulling over these thoughts when they finally pulled up to the house, only to find Castle sitting on the porch stairs, waiting for her with a worried expression on his face. His eyes lit up momentarily when he spotted her, but quickly fell again, and he averted his eyes to the ground, running his hands nervously through his hair.

Beckett climbed out of the car, leaving the other women behind, and fought the urge to rush straight to him, walking slowly in his direction instead. When she stopped in front of him, she hesitated, but when his sad eyes found hers, she stopped doubting herself and sat down next to him. Neither spoke for a moment, and the silence stretched around them as Beckett struggled to find the right words. In the end, she decided to let her actions speak for her and reached out, resting her hand on Castle's knee. For a couple of seconds, Castle remained completely still, staring wide-eyed at her hand. Beckett's resolve faltered slightly, but only for a moment- before she had time to fully second-guess herself, Castle's hand came to rest atop hers. With the simple gesture, every rational thought was banished from her mind, except the realization of what an idiot she had been up until that moment.

"Thank you," she muttered, glancing up at him.

"For what?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

"For being you," she shrugged, releasing his hand and standing up.

He let out a surprised chuckle as he rose to his feet. "My pleasure."

"Listen, about last night…" she started, her eyes searching his as she trailed off. "I'm sorry."

She realized with a start that they'd spoken the last two words in unison, and they shared a soft smile. Before the moment could get any heavier, Beckett broke their eye contact, dropping her gaze to the floor. "No, Castle, listen… I'm really sorry. You were right, you're here for me… and because of me. And I'm truly sorry for the way I treated you."

"Beckett, you were right to do what you did. I chose to be here, and I pressured you to attend this horr…" he trailed off, flashing a wide smile as the Vixens passed them by on their way to the house, trying not-so-subtly to eavesdrop. A shudder racked Castle's body when the Meredith-lookalike winked at him, and Beckett found herself laughing out loud. That didn't seem to please the woman, who shot her a dirty look as she sashayed her way into the house.

"Anyway, I pressured you to attend this horrible party, even when I knew you didn't want to come," Castle explained. "The truth is, I just thought it would be a good opportunity to get to know you better. I was selfish, and I'm sorry. You have every right to be upset."

But she wasn't upset. Not anymore, at least. It was true that his easy acceptance of Patricia's invitation made her see red, but Castle wouldn't be Castle if he did what was expected from him. Now, she was only looking forward to the end of the weekend, when they could be back to normal.

So she just held her arm out for him. "Friends?"

His expression brightened instantly, and she was rewarded with the most genuine smile she had seen in his face. She couldn't help but return his gesture, beaming while she linked her arm through his, allowing him to lead the way inside the house.

"Friends," he nodded.

I've said it before, but it's worth repeating: thank you so much for reading, for your comments and words of encouragement. And especially, thanks to encantadaa for her beta work.