Chapter 4

Perfection

She was going to be there in less than an hour, and he couldn't have been more excited.

It wasn't as if she'd never been to his apartment before. She had, and more than once, but it had always been for some specific, work-related reason. Mostly it had been to brainstorm about cases, with the exception of the time she'd stayed with him after her apartment had burnt down.

Tonight, though, there was no practical reason for her to be visiting him. She was coming simply to visit, to eat dinner, to spend time with him and his family. And everything had to be perfect.

"Alexis, where are those flowers?" He felt like his mind was in about thirty different places, and he couldn't seem to fully focus on anything in particular.

"You left them on the counter."

"Right. Can you put them in vases for me? One on the table, one on the coffee table, one in the kitchen?" He was sure his daughter was more adept at arranging flowers than he could ever be.

"Yeah." She abandoned her homework, although he was sure not for long, to go deal with the flowers.

He made his way over to the other side of the counter, where his mother was cooking, and hopefully not destroying, what was to be their dinner. "How's the food coming, Mom?"

Martha raised the spoon she was using from the pot threateningly. "The food is coming just fine. You go get ready, and stop worrying. I've successfully cooked meals before."

"You've also successfully murdered meals before," he muttered under his breath, meaning for Alexis to hear.

But it was Martha who responded. "Well, she's a homicide detective, dear. If I murder our dinner, she can arrest me. Go get ready."

"I am ready. The flowers and the food were the last two loose ends."

"Then go and relax. We have everything under control. Here." She put down her spoon, leaving it in the pot, poured a tall glass of the white wine she was drinking and handed it to her son.

As soon as he saw Martha put down the spoon he picked it up and began stirring, scared to death that she would let it burn. But after handing him the wine glass she smacked his hand and took the spoon back. "I told you I would cook, now let me cook. Get out."

He looked to his daughter for assistance, but she shook her head. "No, Gram's right. You're being ridiculous. We'll take care of everything. Go write or something."

"Some help you are," he muttered as he left the kitchen. But he took his daughter's suggestion and went to his study.

He opened his laptop and tried to type a little, because Alexis knew him well. Writing did relax him. It took him out of the moment and redirected his energy. This was one of the many reasons he was glad that Kate had started writing. She was always so focused, so absorbed in her cases. So tightly wound. If there was ever anyone who needed a mechanism of escape, it was Kate Beckett.

The more he wrote, and the more time he spent with his detective, the further apart Nikki Heat and Kate Beckett drifted. He'd always thought that the character and the inspiration would become one over time, but that wasn't at all what was happening. He was accustomed to his characters taking on their own lives as they developed further, but this was different.

It wasn't Nikki Heat who he couldn't control, it was Kate Beckett. As he discovered more facets of Kate Beckett, he found that Nikki Heat couldn't keep up. Try as she might, she couldn't manage to be as complex, as enigmatic, as her inspiration. An entirely separate matter was that occasionally he had to make up something about Nikki Heat, about her past or her interests, to make a storyline line up correctly. When he did this the details he created about Nikki never, literally never, ended up being true of Kate. As many times as she'd told him, he was finally beginning to believe it: Kate Beckett was not Nikki Heat.

He'd created Nikki Heat as a way into Kate Beckett's life, first in his own mind, and then in reality when he used Nikki as a reason to begin to shadow Kate. Now, for the first time, he used the fictional detective as a distraction from the real one. He buried himself in the life of Nikki Heat as he waited for Beckett, and by doing so made the wait a little more bearable.

He was yanked out of his alternate consciousness by a tentative knock on the doorframe. He turned around, expecting to see his mother or Alexis, and was surprised when his intruder proved to be neither. "Hey, Beckett," he greeted her, "what are you doing here?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You invited me?"

"No, I mean…" he let out a frustrated sigh and snapped his laptop closed. "Here. My mom or Alexis could've come and got me."

She smirked. "Am I not allowed in here or something?" She poked his novel-planning board as though attempting to be defiant.

"No, you're fine, it's just, I was writing, and I get in kind of a zone when I write and I would've preferred you not to have had to be the one to pull me out of it. But it's okay, I'm back now."

"They both said they didn't want to deal with you again until you knew I was here. Do you want to tell me what that was about?"

He was positive that he didn't. "Nope." He nodded her out of his office. "Come on. Let's see how dinner's coming."

She followed him back into the kitchen. "I, um," she began as he closed the door, "I got some more writing done, and I brought it with me. I thought maybe you could look at it later."

He stopped in his tracks. "Really?" He hadn't expected this for a couple different reasons. For one, the last time they'd spoken she hadn't had any idea what she was going to write about next, and it hadn't seemed like their little meeting at the Old Haunt had done anything to change that. And tonight, he hadn't really been thinking about editing. Not that what he'd been doing with Kate's writing really qualified as editing. It wasn't that it was perfect, it wasn't. He planned on helping her to improve it eventually. For now though, what she needed was confidence, and that was what he'd been trying to give her.

"Yeah. I just finished it last night."

"Good, I'd love to read it." He smiled. "Come on."

"Oh good, you found him," Martha greeted Kate when they reemerged in the kitchen. "Sit down, you two. Everything's ready."

"Already?" Castle asked, confused.

"What do you mean 'already'?" Martha rolled her eyes. "Sit."

Castle nodded and led Kate to the seldom-used dining room. "She's been working on this for awhile. Should be interesting to see if it's any good."

"What is it?" Kate asked as she took a seat beside Castle.

"Chicken Alfredo," Martha said as she appeared behind them and put a serving dish on the table. "And it certainly should be good. It's the secret recipe of a five-star chef I once… dated. It was his specialty."

Kate smiled, innocently missing what Martha had been trying to say. "Wow, you must have been pretty close for him to give you his recipe. How long did you date?"

Martha smirked. "One night."

Beckett tried to nod casually, but Castle didn't miss her blush, and even given his knack for words he couldn't have begun to express how endearing he found it. Most of the time she came across so callous. He loved it when she let her guard down, if even just for a moment.

Alexis slipped into the room and took a seat. "This better be good, Gram. Considering how long it took you."

Kate frowned. "I hope you didn't do any extra work on my account. I'm really not picky."

"Oh, nonsense," Martha said as she put a serving of pasta and chicken on Kate's plate. "You are a welcome change for this family. We're thrilled to have you."

She smiled. "I'm happy to be here. It's a change of pace for me too."

"Well, you're welcome any time." Martha sat down when she was finished serving everyone. "So, Richard tells us that the two of you are working on some kind of project together. Top secret police business, I assume?"

Castle looked at Beckett, waiting for her response. He hadn't been sure how much she wanted his family to know, so he'd given them only minimal information. Now he would find out whether he'd made the right decision.

"No, it's not work-related. Just something personal he's helping me with."

It looked as though he his decision had been correct.

But Martha's ear's seemed to prick up at the word Beckett had used. "Personal, huh? And he's helping?" She nodded at her son. "Very interesting."

"Mom," Castle warned. Maybe he was paranoid, or at least uncharacteristically concerned, but if anyone was going to mess up this new relationship, it was either going to be him or it was going to be Beckett. It was not going to be Martha.

But Kate smiled. "It's okay. He can tell you all about it when I leave. It's nothing secret, it's just personal, and I don't really want to talk about it now. I'm sure he can explain it better than I can anyway."

Castle gave her a questioning look. He could do that? She rolled her eyes at him and changed the subject. "So anyway. This is really good, Martha."

"Thank you, Kate. It is, isn't it? Looks like my five-star chef pulled through."

"Exactly how long ago did you know this chef?" Castle asked.

"He's not your father, if that's what you're asking."

Alexis laughed as Kate smiled and shook her head. Castle sputtered. "That's not what I was asking. I'm just trying to figure out how you remembered the recipe."

"I'm an actress, darling, I have a fabulous memory. But it was a number of years ago. He wrote it down."

Castle still didn't get it. "And you still have it? Years ago? I would've thought you'd have lost it by now."

The story wasn't lining up for Beckett either, but her reasons were different from Castle's. "A five-star chef wrote down his special secret recipe and gave it to you?"

Martha shot her son a glare but chose not to answer him, and instead turned to Beckett. "He was intoxicated at the time. I'm sure in your line of work you understand that can lead to certain… lapses in judgment."

Kate actually laughed. "Okay, no further questions."

Now Castle laughed. "Are you ever not a cop?"

"Rarely."

Castle was thrilled with how seamlessly Beckett seemed to fit in with his family. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation. She was just there. Like another member of the family. She even offered to help clean up when they were finished, but Martha quickly turned her down. "You're our guest," she insisted. "We'll take care of it."

"Well, then at least let me return the favor," she suggested. "You guys come to my place some time, and I'll cook."

"You don't have to do that," Castle insisted. "There are a lot more of us than there are of you."

She rolled her eyes. "There are three of you. I'm sure I can cook for four people. Come on, what do you say?"

Castle eyed the generous glass of wine that Martha had poured for the detective. "How much wine have you had?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Don't make me hurt you."

Alexis was the first one to actually reply seriously. "We'd love to, if you're sure you don't mind. Sounds like fun."

Kate smiled. "I'm positive that I don't mind. I wouldn't have suggested it if I did. Your dad and I will figure out when."

Castle nodded and then turned to Beckett. "Shall we go work on your 'project' now?"

"Yeah, sure." She smiled at Alexis and Martha and led the way to Castle's study.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked as he closed the door. "Because you can still back out. My mom won't remember anyway. Alexis never forgets anything, but I can talk to her."

"Castle. I invited your family for dinner. What is the big deal?"

"You don't normally even cook for yourself, I just can't figure out why you'd want to cook for my whole family."

"I actually enjoy cooking, I just don't usually have time to do it, and I never feel like I have enough reason if it's just for me. I want to do this. Let me."

Her tone and expression told him that this was more a demand than a suggestion, and her insistence softened him. "I just don't want you feeling like you have to do this to pay us back or something. That's not how this works."

"I know it's not. That's not what I was thinking." She opened her purse and handed him the notebook he'd given her. "Here. It's the first thing in there that's not what you already read. Second page."

"Right. Okay." He took the notebook, sat down and flipped to the page. "We should get you a bookmark."

She rolled her eyes. "I have bookmarks, I just didn't think of using one. You don't have to be my benefactor all the time."

He liked being "her benefactor," as she'd said. It wasn't as if Kate was broke, that wasn't even remotely true. She had money. She made less than she deserved, but enough to live fairly comfortably considering she only had one person to support, and he'd figured out early on that she'd come from a family of means. It was just that she didn't have as much money as he did to toss around, and even if she did, she wouldn't have. She lived modestly. She didn't usually treat herself, indulge in luxuries just because she could. That was where he came in. He indulged her. First it had been the espresso machine at the precinct. Then the dress. The money aimed at catching her mother's killer, not that it had helped much. Recently it had been smaller things. The flowers. The notebook. He wasn't trying to woo her, he simply wanted to make her smile. "I know I don't have to," he told her. "I like to."

She looked a little frustrated, but smiled. "I know. Are you going to read or not?"

He nodded and began reading.

When I was sixteen, I remember there was one night when my dad had to work late, so it was just me and my mom. That was rare. Usually my mom was the one who had to work late, or I was out with friends. I was at the age where I didn't really want to spend a lot of time at home, and when I was, my dad was usually there too.

We ordered Chinese and talked a little, and then she asked me a question that caught me off guard. "What's wrong, Katie?"

My mom had this incredible knack for reading people. It was impossible to hide anything from her. But even then I wasn't really big on sharing, so I told her what I always told her. "Nothing."

"I'm your mother, Kate," she said with this warning look in her eye that she could have had patented. I was never sure whether she developed it as a mother or a lawyer. "Don't lie to me."

I was dating this guy named Zach at the time. He wasn't my first boyfriend, but I think he was my first serious one. We'd been dating for almost six months, but honestly, I was starting to lose interest, and I think he was too. He'd been spending a lot of his time with another girl, and he said they were just friends, but I wasn't sure I believed him. I told my mom all of this.

Most of the time, my mom and I were a pretty typical mother and teenage daughter. We weren't always close, we didn't always talk to each other a lot, we didn't even always get along, but every time I started talking to my mom about something, really talking to her seriously, I ended up spilling absolutely everything. She had the ability to open me up in a way that no one else could. This day was a prime example. I went into detail about Zach, our relationship and how it had changed, and the other girl. We talked for at least an hour about boys, life, how she and my dad had met, really everything. I'll never forget it. To this day, I can still remember some of the advice she gave me.

"Relationships take work," she said. "You'll never have a relationship that's perfect one hundred percent of the time. Don't look for someone who's perfect for you, because you'll never find him. No one is perfect, and no one is perfect for anyone else. What you look for is someone you're willing to work for. Someone who is worth the effort. But it also has to be someone you trust, because without trust, no matter how hard you work, you'll never really have anything."

After she died, I wasn't sure I'd ever trust anyone again. Not completely. But now? Now I see that I was wrong.

When he got to the last sentence, he froze. She couldn't have meant what he thought she meant by that. That was just his ego talking. Wasn't it?

His question was answered when he looked up from the page and saw her looking down, blushing. She was well aware of what he'd just read, and she had to have known what he was going to read into it. She had to have known that when she was writing it. And he hadn't asked to see this one, she'd shown it to him willingly. Egotistical or not, that could only mean one thing. His impression had been right. She'd been referring to him.

He put his hand on hers to let her know that he had finished, and she looked up tentatively. "Did you like it?" She immediately backpedaled, correcting her error in speech. "I mean, um, do you have a critique? Anything I should change?"

He smiled and took her hand in his. His reply was automatic. In retrospect it might've been a little cheesy, but it just kind of came out. "Don't ever change." Then he leaned toward her slowly until he could feel her breath and knew that she wasn't going to pull away. She wasn't going to stop him. He let his lips brush hers, and then softly he kissed her. The woman he was willing to work for, to do anything for. The woman he trusted completely, always. The woman he now knew felt exactly the same way that he did.

A/N: Sorry about the wait. Have I mentioned before that I love this story? I do. It's a lot of work, so it tends to take me a little longer to update, but it's so worth it. At least, it's worth it on my end. Hopefully you agree. :) Unfortunately though, the chapters are long and kind of labor-intensive (long might not be unfortunate... you guys seem to like long chapters...), so it tends to take me awhile to write them (the unfortunate part).

I have lots of ideas/plans for this story, it's quite exciting. :) What I have to do next is actually turn them into a coherent outline that I can actually use. The outline I have now? Not coherent. I have to skim through like five pages of obscure notes, most of which wouldn't mean anything to anyone but me, and some of which don't even mean anything to me, to find anything actually helpful, and I have limited patience for that. So I need to fix that soon. I do want to get more into history/background and writing stuff soon, but this chapter and the last one were more about establishing Castle and Beckett's relationship and what exactly is going on there. Which is also fun. :)

One of the things I'm enjoying most about this story is the reviews I've been getting. No pressure intended. :) It's not that I've been getting tons of reviews for this story, I haven't, especially lately, but the ones I've gotten have all been amazing, really sweet and thorough. So thank you so much for that! :) I'm... extremely inconsistent with review replies. Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't. But whether I have or not, know that if you've reviewed, I find you awesome. :) Continue to do so please! If you haven't... I promise I don't bite? As always, thanks for reading! :)