may flowers
Thank you for your words on this fic of mine so far.
Chapter Three
That Friday afternoon, she keeps her eyes on the clock, waiting for five to roll around.
"What's up, Beckett? Excited for your date?" Ryan teases, nudging Esposito.
"It's not every day you land a millionaire," Esposito adds, grinning mischievously.
Kate glares at them. "Lanie told you?"
Ryan looks completely innocent, eyes wide. She turns her steely gaze to his partner, who has the good grace to at least look a little uncomfortable, and shrugs and mutters while he looks back down at his paperwork, pretending to frown at the page. She sighs, sitting back in her chair. She had known this would happen anyway.
"Okay, yes, it's true. I'm going on a date with Richard Castle," she says, the words feeling foreign on her tongue. "But, unless you want me to tell Jenny and Lanie about the dancer in Atlantic City, I'd suggest you keep your mouths shut."
The ribbing from them ends then, and she wears a smug, gloating smile for the rest of the afternoon. Impatience gets the better of her when she has nothing to do, and she practically offers to make coffee for everyone in the precinct - even though the stuff they have is gross - and completes all of her paperwork before four. She thinks even maybe Captain Gates grows slightly suspicious of her actions.
When five finally does eventually come, she's buttoning up her coat and shouldering her bag before the boys can even blink, despite her shaking hands.
Okay. Maybe she's a little more nervous than excited.
She tries to relax in the bath, keeping an eye on the time to make sure that she doesn't fall to sleep. She's too worked up to relax though, and ends up getting out when the water's still warm.
Her wardrobe feels empty when she sifts through it, searching for the perfect dress. What kind of restaurant is he going to take her out to? Will he really go for expensive and fancy? Or will he know that kind of thing is uncomfortable for her? Worrying her lower lip with her teeth, she finally settles on a black lacy dress that dips low enough on her chest to be cheeky, but the loose flowing skirt settles just below her mid-thigh, modest enough. Plus, she knows her eyes look great in this one.
Her hands tremble as she applies her make up, not going overboard, but smiling at herself in the mirror when her eyes look just the right amount of smoky to be dangerous. She runs her hands through her hair, uncertain, before finally opting to pull it up into a braided bun. It's difficult with her hands shaking, strands of her hair slipping from her fingers occasionally, but she eventually manages it. For good measure, she rummages through her cupboards for the over the counter anxiety pills she'd bought a few weeks back, swallowing a few dry and shaking her head when she realises how much of a walking pharmacy she's become.
She's fine.
But she makes sure that the window shutters that reveal her mom's murderboard are firmly shut.
The knock on her door comes ten minutes early and she laughs, slipping her heels on and opening the door to find Castle grinning sheepishly at her behind a bouquet of flowers. He looks good.
"Hey."
"You're early."
"A queen is never early. Everyone else is simply late," he says nonchalantly, the crinkles around his eyes appearing when she laughs.
"Did you just adapt a line from The Princess Diaries?"
"What can I say, I have a seven year old daughter who loves the movie."
"Sure, Castle, use that excuse."
He doesn't even look embarrassed. Simply holds the bouquet out to her. "These are for you."
"Thank you. They're beautiful," she says, smiling, and thumbing a petal. "Sunflowers?"
"Sunflowers signify warmth and happiness," he tells her, no doubt reciting lines that the florist had fed him. "They made me think of you."
She blushes, despite how much she would never associate herself with warmth of happiness. That sinking feeling gnaws away at her stomach - he thinks she's someone she's not. Maybe she was that person once. But after the shooting at Montgomery's funeral…
"Too much?"
Kate startles, looking up at Castle, who watches her with concern. Silent. She'd been silent for too long.
"No. No, they're perfect. Thank you. I'll go put them in some water."
Without invitation, Castle follows her into her apartment, exploring her living room. He stares at the painting of the woman in a war zone for too long, eyes flickering back to her with interest when she places the flowers in a vase.
"You have an interesting taste," he says, running his hands over an ornament she'd bought in Moscow.
"Interesting is one way to put it."
"No, it's nice. Different."
Kate shrugs, glancing around her apartment, before grabbing her purse.
"You're not taking a jacket?"
"If I get cold, I'll just use yours," she says, smirking.
She doesn't miss his own smile.
"By the way," he says, placing a hand on the small of her back as they walk to the elevator, making her hold her breath, "you look beautiful tonight, Kate."
She toys with her clutch. "You're not so bad yourself, Castle," she returns shyly.
His car is neither overstated nor under. She's surprised, thinking that a millionaire like him would take a town car, perhaps even a limo that she's seen in page six countless times before. At her confused look, he simple wiggles his eyebrows at her, somehow still charming, and she slips into the car, a content silence falling between the two of them as he drives. She pretends not to catch the way his eyes look over at her - the way he looks at her is… dangerous.
They eventually pull up at a restaurant that she's only heard of through Lanie before, who'd once wanted to get in there when it first opened. Admittedly, she'd always wanted to come too. A gorgeous seafood restaurant that, apparently, sold beautiful wine.
Castle practically runs around the other side of the car when they park, holding open her door and offering her a hand before she can blink. In spite of herself, Kate finds herself smiling fondly and accepting the hand. When she climbs from the car, she realises that she's almost eye height with him in heels. Perfect.
"Okay?" He asks, close enough for the word to go right through her.
She releases her hold on his hand. "Perfect. I've always wanted to come here."
"I hear it's wonderful."
She shoots him a look as they walk inside, waiting until he's booked them in to reply.
"You expect me to believe that Richard Castle, millionaire playboy, has never taken a woman here before?"
He shakes his head, slow and serious. "I've never been here before."
They're shown to their table, and Kate looks round in amazement. The place has Frank Sinatra playing softly, following a warm brown and cream colour scheme, the candles between them alight and smelling like… is that jasmine?
"This place is amazing," she says, fingers tracing the leather jacket of the menu. "Really."
"I'm glad you like it," is all he says.
Her eyes almost bug out of her skull when she notices the price of the food. And that's just for the starters. Her savings are really gonna take a hit. She supposes going on a date with a millionaire never would've come cheaply.
"Don't worry about price," he says, as though he's read her mind. "Not that I'm saying you couldn't afford it. But, I'll pay."
"No, Castle, we can split -"
"Aw, c'mon Kate. Allow me my moment of chivalry," he says, pretending to puff his chest out.
She laughs, shaking her head. "You're ridiculous."
"Funny, that's what my daughter says too."
They order their food happily, along with their wine for the evening. She lets him decide on that, since he's paying, and he doesn't disappoint. The moment she takes a sip she finds herself humming. It's good stuff.
Richard Castle bought her good wine.
"So, tell me, Kate. Why homicide?"
She shrugs. "Why do you write mystery books?"
"Touché."
Kate foolishly thinks that, maybe, he's let it go, that she's outwitted him and they can back to some form of date talk that doesn't revolve around the dark patches of her life. She doesn't quite think she wants him to ever see those.
Ever? So she's not thinking long term?
She fights the urge to frown. Why would she? This is Richard Castle. She's just a cop. It's a wonder that she's even here to begin with and, she knows, that if she invites him back to her place tonight, she'll only wake up to an empty bed in the morning. She's not stupid, and she's not disillusioned to what this misguided date of his is, some chivalrous way of thanking her for inadvertently saving his life in the bank robbery. Richard Castle doesn't do long term. She's read enough pages on page six to know that.
What would long term with Richard Castle mean, anyway? How would it work? He has a daughter, a young girl with hair like fire and maturity beyond her years. That little girl still has innocence about her, despite her blatant maturity. And how could Kate ever bring herself to get close to this beautiful man, to his innocent daughter, knowing that she could destroy them both?
It wouldn't be fair on them.
"I've no doubt you're smart. I saw all of those books on your shelf at your apartment. Hemingway, Dickens, Bukowski. You're well read," he says, sipping his wine. "But a homicide cop. It just doesn't… fit."
She shrugs. "Then what does?"
"Hmm… well, you're stunning, and intelligent. And bossy. I've seen the way you order men around," he pauses to wiggle his eyebrows at her then, and she rolls her eyes. "A CEO? Lawyer? Those options… sociably acceptable options. They fit a little better."
A lawyer.
Kate drops her eyes to her wine, picking absently at the tablecloth with trembling fingers.
"I'm sorry," he says. "We don't have to talk about it."
"Thanks," she croaks hoarsely, taking a gulp of wine.
Their starters come then and diffuse the tension. She's never been so relieved to see food in her entire life. In fact, she thinks maybe she's a little too eager, because their waiter scurries away almost instantly. Castle laughs at that.
"So how's your friend? Jenny, I believe her name is?" He asks between bites of his meal.
Kate hums around her first bite. Holy crap, the stuff is delicious.
"She's doing well. Jenny's the fiancée of a member of my team, actually. Detective Ryan. They're getting married in three weeks."
"Well, tell them I wish them well. If you want," he adds. "Marriage isn't for everyone."
"You were married twice."
"Those were dark, dark times indeed," he says, so seriously she can't help but roll her eyes. "What about you, detective? Ever married?"
"Nope," she replies easily, finishing her starter. "I'm more of a one and done kind of girl."
The way he's watching her changes then. Something soft and understanding in his blue eyes. It makes her cheeks flush so she looks down at her wine again, fingers twisting around the stem of the glass. What is it about this man that makes her feel so transparent? She's not too sure if it's an entirely comfortable feeling. It's unfamiliar, and new, almost unsettling. Yet, she doesn't really want him to stop looking at her that way.
"You're a romantic," he says, and she nods.
The waiter returns then, eyeing her a little suspiciously, much to Castle's amusement. He collects their plates, refills their wine, and serves their main course a few minutes later. The scent of the candles still hangs around them.
"What about Alexis?" Kate asks, twirling spaghetti around her fork. "It must've been traumatic for her."
Castle purses his lips. "She's a very mature child."
"Shocking, given you're her father," she replies, laughing when he looks disgruntled. "But really. That kind of thing must leave it's mark."
"I suppose it must do. But she's always been much more serious and withdrawn than I am. She'll talk to me about it when she's ready."
Kate nods, accepting the answer, thinking back to the young redheaded girl who'd trembled against her father when they'd stormed the bank. Had the maturity to be wary of Kate. She wonders if those pale wrists of hers are still bruised.
"And you, Castle?"
"What about me?"
"How are you? After everything that happened in the bank."
Castle's eyebrows stitch together, and he makes himself busy by taking too large a bite, attempting to distract her with comedy.
"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?"
"Well, it was a traumatic event. You're allowed to be affected by it," she comments, and her scars burn.
"Nothing but inspiration up in here," he says too quickly, tapping against the side of his forehead. "Expect my new book to be all about bank hostages and beautiful police detectives."
She lets the subject drop, sensing she's not going to get any truths out of him. Not that she supposes he owes them to her. She's as much a stranger to him as he is to her, and they're both hiding the dark spots from each other. Somehow, she thinks her darker spots are vaster than his own, much more terrifying and lonely.
"So, any interesting cases recently, detective?" he asks as they finish their mains.
"Actually, we had one that prompted the boys to go to Atlantic City recently," she tells him, sipping her wine.
His eyes light up. "Ooh. Atlantic City. Were there strippers?"
She rolls her eyes, groaning. "How did I know you were gonna ask that?"
"I'm just trying to gather all of the vital information about the investigation," he responds innocently, face neutral. "I don't want to miss anything."
"Well, I'll have you know, Castle, that there weren't strippers. There may have been at the impromptu bachelor's party Esposito arrange for Ryan after the killer was caught, though."
Their desserts arrive, and he laughs when she grins at the size of the chocolate gateau she's served. He opted for something less sickly, but the dessert waffles he's been served with ice cream and fruit catches her eyes nonetheless.
"I have no idea where you put it all," he says, laughing, as she brazenly reaches forward to steal part of his waffle. "You eat everything."
Kate grins, taking a bite of her dessert and sliding the fork between a lips for just a little longer than necessary. Castle groans.
"Do you have any idea what kind of effect you have on men?" he asks her brazenly.
She drips sugar into her voice, brushing her foot against the inside of his calf. His eyes lock on hers.
"I think I have some idea."
They finish soon after that, and when they leave the restaurant and begin walking to his car, she regrets not bringing a jacket immediately. Castle drapes his coat around her shoulders though, and she smiles into the soft, thousand dollar fabric that dwarves her, opting to say nothing when he uses it as an excuse to keep his arm around her shoulders. Even drifts closer to his side a little, drunk on the surreality of the moment.
"I'll walk you up," he says, when they park outside her building.
She tries to tell her beating heart to stop going so fast.
"I had a really nice time tonight, Castle," she tells him softly as they ride the elevator up to her floor. A weary looking older man steps onto the elevator with them the floor before hers. She lets her hand brush Castle's.
"Me too, Kate," he murmurs.
When they reach her door, she shrugs off his jacket, feeling the cold instantly even though they're inside. He accepts it slowly, something cautious in his movements.
"Look, Castle…" she starts, fiddling with her keys. "I haven't done this - dating - in a while. Things got kinda messy with my ex and, well, with some pretty messed up things that have happened recently, I kinda decided that I was going to stay away from dating for a while and just look out for myself, you know?"
Castle nods slowly. "Kate, I was telling the truth when I told you I hadn't been to that restaurant before."
She smiles. "Well. Now you have."
He tilts his head. "No. You don't understand what I'm saying."
She raises her eyebrows.
"I know you say you're not a fan, but you've read about me. I can tell. You've read all the kinds of dates I go on for publicity, the ones with blonde models and limos and whatever else it is my publicist thinks will sell."
She ducks her head. "Well, it's not like have anything else to base my knowledge on," she defends.
He sighs, pushing a hand through his hair nervously. He's looking at her like she's everything again.
"Kate, we didn't travel by limo because I guessed that wasn't your thing. I took you to a restaurant that I'd never been to before because you're special. I didn't try to impress you with lame pick up lines and name dropping. Because you're real, Kate. I… I really like you. I do. And I get it, if you want to believe the papers instead of me. But I'd like to do this again."
Her eyes flick up to his. "You would?"
"Of course. I want to get to know you, Kate. And not just because you saved my life. God, do you know the last time a woman asked if my daughter would be okay with me going on a date? Even her own mother has less regard for her than that."
She blushes. "I was just trying to be a good person."
"And you are."
She bites her lip, fighting the urge to frown. This is going differently to how she expected. She thought she was just going to be one of his conquests, and as much as that probably wasn't healthy for her, she wasn't exactly opposed to the idea. But now… Richard Castle wants to take her on a second date. He hasn't even attempted to get into her pants.
Her heart flutters.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay. I'll go on a second date with you."
She's surprised he doesn't cartwheel, his face breaks out into such light.
"Next weekend?"
She laughs. "We haven't even finished this date and you're trying to arrange the next one?"
"Are you complaining?"
She smiles wryly. "Saturday. I have next Saturday off."
He sticks his hand out between them, bowing slightly. "Until Saturday, detective."
Kate rolls her eyes, slipping her hand into his and then tugging him closer, until she can kiss his cheek. She feels the surprise ricochet through him, his hand gripping hers tightly until she leans back and lets go.
"Goodnight, Castle."
"Goodnight, Kate," he says, all low and smooth and making her think about dragging him inside so he can say good morning, too.
As usual, her apartment is quiet and dark, and she doesn't hesitate to strip off on her way to her bedroom, bypassing the empty pill bottle on the floor and falling into bed in her underwear.
That night she has nightmares about little girls with blood the same colour as their hair.
TBC
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