I don't know what happened with this one. Jess gets all deep and meaningful. Let's put this one toward my Valkyrie/Dreamworld feels and leave it at that.
To say I'm surprised when they walk through my door together at eleven o'clock in the evening is an understatement. They've been less frequent in their visits lately, both spending their nights and off-hours with their respective significant others.
Rick is practically bouncing on his heels as they approach the counter. He looks good. He's sharply dressed, if a little rumpled, and the excitement in his eyes adds a new level of handsome to his features. It's the look he gets when he's had a brilliant idea for a new novel or an especially good plot point.
I grin in their direction, already excited if that is indeed the case. It's been a while since he's graced me with any new reading material.
Kate is a lot less exuberant though, and not nearly as well dressed. She looks like Rick has dragged her out of bed.
Taking a closer look at her, she looks kind of pissed off, and I have never known Kate to be anything but professional when it comes to an active case. So what on earth have these two got going on that is important enough for Kate to be swayed into coming out with him at night and yet have her seemingly pissed off with him at the same time?
"Hey Jess," greets Rick, leaning over the counter to lay a kiss on my cheek.
"Rick," I smile. "Kate." I greet her over his shoulder.
I get a whiff of his cologne, a day old, barely there, and mixed with the scent of his laundry detergent and sweat. He smells good, manly, and not for the first time I wonder how Kate manages to keep her hands off of him.
"The usual, please," he says as he retreats back to side of the counter.
I smell toothpaste as he speaks. Interesting, I think. He brushed his teeth before meeting up with Kate tonight. Does Gina know about this little outing?
Kate nods her head in greeting and shoots an eye roll in Rick's direction.
Rick isn't carrying their tumblers, and so pulling a couple of to-go cups from the stack by the register and dipping my head toward Kate, I say, "So, what brings you two out so late at night? New case?"
"Old one, actually," she says, barely managing to conceal her annoyance.
"It's gonna be in those files," Castle insists, nudging the folders tucked under Kate's arm with his elbow. "I know we're missing something."
"Yeah, like my bedtime," Kate grouses. "For some reason, Castle here couldn't possibly wait until morning to get a look at these." She indicates the stack of folders bearing the insignia of the NYPD.
Hmm, so he has dragged her out of bed for a late night study session. It says a lot to me that she has agreed.
"No hot date tonight?" I ask, wondering if things have already cooled off with the surgeon, wondering if he knows about this late night rendezvous.
"You know about him?" Rick interjects before she can answer. He slams his mouth shut then, grinding his teeth and wincing.
Is that a hint of jealousy I detect? It's almost funny; his obvious distress regarding Kate's new boyfriend, Kate's obliviousness to his discomfort. Almost.
Oh, Rick. Oh, Kate. Would you two open your eyes already?
"This is where they met," I smirk instead, not voicing my inner annoyance with their blindness.
He gives me the side-eye, a scowl plastered across his features.
Kate shakes her head in the negative. "Josh is on-call tonight. Says he can't sleep well when he's at my place."
Rick shifts, his eyes studying the patterns in the stone floor.
"We had an early dinner and he went home a few hours ago."
His eyes light up as I begin preparing his usual cappuccino; day or night his order never changes.
For a man who is supposedly in a committed relationship, who just a day ago had told me of his plans to make up for offending Gina with a night of pampering and apologies, he looks awfully happy about Kate's going solo for the night.
"What about Kate's latte?" he says, pointing to the single shot of espresso I've prepared. I raise an eyebrow and throw a smirk in his direction, reaching toward the makings of Kate's usual late night order: a chai tea latte.
"You drink tea?" he asks her, a look of shock on his face.
"She does," I butt in, smiling, oddly pleased to know something about her that he doesn't.
"Layers, Castle, layers," she smirks, before turning tail and making her way over to the sofa. She spreads the papers out on the coffee table and begins to scan the files.
"How did I not know this?" he asks me, baffled.
"You should pay a little more attention," I grin, steaming the milk for both their drinks. I pour the milk into both cups, being careful to strain Kate's; she likes her lattes flat rather than foamy. "Might keep you out of trouble."
Rick turns and watches Kate as I pop the lids onto the cups. She's far away, intense and scanning through the files, a highlighter is in one hand, a strand of hair curled around her finger on the other. Weariness shrugged off, she's immersed in the case already.
Rick's hand twitches at his side, his thumb and forefinger rubbing together as though itching to be the once caressing the errant curl on the side of her head. It takes two clearings of my throat to get his attention back; he's immersed in her.
"Trouble… uh, yeah," he says, blinking rapidly.
I hand over the cups with a wink and leave them to it, only occasionally sneaking glances in their direction as I go about clearing the display cases of the day's pastries and assorted snack foods.
It's not until the counters are wiped down and the floor is mopped that I grab myself a coffee, set a fresh pair of drinks down in front of them and sit in the loveseat opposite them that I get the chance to study them.
Despite the fits and starts of any romantic feelings that they might be keeping close to the vest, their working relationship is flawless. They acknowledge me with a moment of eye contact but quickly resume working the case, my presence obviously fading into the peripheral as they are overcome by facts and conjecture, getting lost in each other's theories and ideas; in each other.
It leaves me time to contemplate them, to contemplate myself, and the paths we all choose to take.
Our existence is so temporary; minutes fleet by, turning to hours and days without thought. We're all so dreadfully lonely, so desperately searching for someone to fill the holes in our hearts. We crave that deep, soulful connection with another being, yet we search in every other direction but straight ahead.
They are a prime example. They cling to temporary relationships, both meaning well, but neither giving their full attention. If only they would stop for a moment, step back and take stock, look inward for a moment and then outward with fresh eyes.
Fear holds them back, I think. Fear of the unknown, of taking the brave path. Or is it the wondering? Is it possible that it is hope that keeps them in this holding pattern? There's a certain sweetness in the waiting. That special anticipation that encompasses the longing; the butterflies and a rolling belly.
The air around them crackles, like magic, and fireflies on a warm summer night. What they have is special; a blind man could see that.
And yet, they hold back. An accidental brush of knuckles leaves her taking a deeper breath and flushing a dusty shade of pink. He misses it as his eyes focus on his clenched fist. She reaches for a pen and it gets caught on his coat, the cap snagging on the zipper. She apologizes and he waves her off with a laugh and a thorough inspection of a file that just moments before he'd thrown down in frustration. She misses it as she ducks her head, her hair falling to the side and exposing her neck. She misses the way he wets his lips and gulps down an emotional onslaught.
He closes his eyes and I watch as he mouths 'one, two, three'.
There's pain in the longing too. And once awakened, it's a difficult beast to contain. Like a magnet we are drawn to the one we can't have, forced to watch, and endure, until it's time for our homesick souls to find north.
We are conditioned to avoid pain, and yet if we are brave, the invisible thread between two hearts can lead us home.
I don't miss any of it. I don't miss the way their knees touch, or the way their foreheads almost meet as their theories start to converge, as the evidence of shoddy police work becomes clear and after a few moments of bickering, a solid plan of action is formed.
"Come on, Kate," he says, eyes shining, "A love story as good as theirs deserves a happy ending."
She smiles then, meeting his eyes and biting on her lip. "I don't disagree with you, Castle." She pauses, and then a sigh. "I just don't know how successful we are gonna be at convincing a judge."
"You've got this," he says, leaning forward and closing the folders, stacking them neatly in a pile on the table. She raises her eyebrows, looking like she doesn't entirely believe him. "Breaking her out of jail? That's love. Come on. You've got this," he repeats, pressing the files into her hands.
There's a moment then, a moment where her eyes flick to his lips and his breath catches. I hold my own breath, waiting to see how this will play out, both eager to see them finally give in and anxious about the damage it would cause should they succumb.
I quickly debate my options. I can do nothing, quietly watch from the sidelines and let them fall into each other. It would be easy; it would be simple to let them break all their carefully molded moral codes and have their moment. But it would be wrong too. And possibly the end of them as the moment faded away and they were left with just the nagging guilt and quiet degradation of their honor.
Ruefully, I clear my throat.
Kate startles a little, falling back into the couch. Rick quickly stands, rearranging his jacket and looking anywhere but toward me or Kate.
"Well," he says, clearing his throat. "I guess that's that then."
"Yeah," she murmurs, gathering her purse and tipping her paper cup back, quickly downing the last swallow of cold chai.
"Jess, it's been a pleasure as always," Rick says, holding out a hand to assist me off the love seat. I think I detect a hint of annoyance towards me. I don't blame him. I did just ruin his moment. But it's for their own good and, eventually, he might even thank me.
I grab his hand and let him pull me up, giving him a knowing look, letting my eyes flit to Kate. "I hope you two figure it out."
He gets my meaning, gulps and nods in acknowledgment. I'm not talking about the case.
I pick up the discarded cups and crumpled pieces of note paper that they've left scattered about the coffee table. "Don't forget to tip your waitress on the way out," I grin, sashaying over to the trash can with an armful of garbage.
He wanders over to the tip jar by the counter and pulls a note out of his wallet.
"I was kidding," I reprimand, running over and smacking his hand away before he can deposit his cash into the jar.
"It's nothing," he says, eyes sincere. He holds my hand, not allowing me to swat him away again as he deposits a fifty into the gratuity jug.
It's not nothing.
"Nice," I say, smiling and giving him a nod of thanks. "Really, you don't have to. But the guys will appreciate the first round of Friday night drinks."
He grins back, the tension around us easing as I steer the conversation back toward our usual easy banter.
"Hey, I gotta keep the coffee flowing," he retorts. "And keep you in business. What would I do without the Hut to keep Detective Beckett fully caffeinated? She's a beast without her morning fix."
"I heard that," she grumbles, walking up beside him and narrowing her eyes, one hand pressed firmly into her hip. I back up a little, getting my body out of the crossfire in case she intends to clock him for the comment.
Rick is saved though, just in the nick of time.
"I gotta go," she says, blinking, looking a little unnerved as her phone pings and the doctor's face lights up her screen.
"Yeah," I say, feigning a lightness to my voice that nobody is feeling as the awkwardness of the situation comes crashing down upon us all. It's only a matter of time until this carefully struck balance is tipped one direction or the other. "Have a good one," I say. "We'll talk soon, yeah?"
She nods, giving me an earnest smile. "We will."
"Night Castle," she says, tipping the files in his direction. "I got this. First thing in the morning, okay?"
"Night Beckett," he says to her retreating form as she makes her way out the door.
He scrubs his hands through his hair, letting out an uneven breath.
"Thanks, Jess."
He's not thanking me for the coffee or a place to spread out their files.
New Jess-fic! And it didn't even take me two months to come up with something this time. Praise me?
Thanks to Kellie for the beta. She rocks. But blame me for typos. I have a tendency to fiddle even after I swear that I am done fiddling and insist that it is really, truly, ready for betaing.