Disclaimer: I don't own the Castle series (still creds to the fantabulous team), the Storm franchise, Heat franchise, or any of the characters
"Hey, Heat!"
Detective Nikki Heat's head shot up off of of her keyboard at the sound of Rook's voice. She'd fallen asleep on the job, for the first time in her years as a homicide detective. She supposed it was from staying out late with Storm. The corners of her mouth rose into a smile as she thought of him last night.
"Wow, that happy to see me?" She rolled her eyes as she took the coffee from the reporter. "Got any new murders for me?" He lowered his face and raised his eyebrows menacingly, earning a glare from Heat.
"Nope, just paperwork. But you never seem to want to help out with that, do you?" Rook shook his head emphatically.
"What were you up to last night that has you so tired?" Rook looked genuinely concerned for her.
"Oh, just jujutsu with Don." Heat felt the need to lie to Rook, and she wasn't quite sure why. He just nodded mockingly, obviously aware she was lying, but he was cut off from further comment.
Detectives Raley and Ochoa, Roach, as Heat liked to call them, suddenly came in with smiles on their faces.
"Heat, there's a man here to see you." Following them up the elevator was none other than Derrick Storm himself.
He wore a large grin on his face and held a dozen deep red roses in his right hand. Raley wiggled his eyebrows at Heat, while Ochoa winked suggestively. Heat's smile increased to a full laugh. The only one not humored was Rook. Well he wore a smile, but it was plastered on his face, with a look of annoyance behind it. But he managed to keep his mouth shut. Out of the corner of her eye, Heat noticed Captain Montrose straighten uncomfortably at the sight of Storm, but besides that, nothing happened.
"What is the meaning of this unexpected meeting?" Heat was glad she had chosen to wear a skirt, she would have felt far too masculine in slacks. Her purple flowery blouse was tucked into her black knee-length pencil skirt, and white heels were on her feet. A white coat hung on her chair.
"Well, I have come to court you. Like a gentleman." He shot a look at Detective Ochoa, who immediately straightened and turned around, Raley in his footsteps. The smile on Heat's face grew more than she thought possible. She really did love a gentleman. She pulled her coat into the crook of one arm, interlacing her other arm into Storm's outstretched elbow. She didn't mind that it was noon, and she was obviously leaving with no excuse, and everyone seemed too taken aback to stop her. Captain Montrose had locked his door upon the arrival of Storm, but Heat took no notice of that. She allowed him to lead her downstairs.
As the elevator doors closed, she heard Rook say, "What's his business here? With Heat?" He spoke her name as though he was absolutely astonished that she could possibly have a date. Detective Ochoa's voice rose in her defense, just like it always did.
"Hey, come on, Rook. At least she's happy." Heat smiled. She really was happy.
The elevator doors closed, cutting out all sound, but not before Jameson Rook got in two more words. "For now."
A black suit adorned Storm's body that afternoon as he led Heat down the streets of Manhattan. It was almost like fate had spoken in his ear that his maroon pocket-handkerchief matched the colour of Heat's shirt. His crisp white shirt matched her shoes, and his suit matched her skirt. It was almost like they shared a closet. He shared a smile that matched hers, as well. They walked along towards the park, and came across a quiet hill. A picnic had been laid out, complete with a vase for the roses. Heat gasped. On the plates was barbeque style pizza, which was her favourite. She smiled again and sat down gracefully, pulling him down next to her.
"This is so thoughtful! Thank you." She looked taken aback. "No one's ever done something like this for me before." Storm smiled as he looked at how innocently beautiful she truly was.
"You deserve it, and so much more. A beauty like yourself deserves royalty, not some half assed boyfriend who never calls you back because he's busy sleeping with your sister, if you'll pardon my language." She smiled at him again, and took a seat. He poured champagne into two glasses, handing her the first one before he proceeded to pour his. He sliced the pizza, and served it to her like she was the queen of England. They talked as she ate, and he ate with her. The sun climbed down the hill as she poured her life story out to him, and he was really a great listener.
As Heat's thin gold watch read 6:30, Storm pulled her to her feet. "Come on, I have to show you something." He pulled her down the hill, towards the road. She tried not to splash her champagne glass as she kept up with him. At the bottom of the road, on the park sidewalk, was a white carriage, the interior lined with red velvet, attached to four white horses, ready to be rode. Storm walked down to the door, opening it for her. She stood on the sidewalk, her hand over her mouth in awe.
"Your majesty." He bowed before her. She snickered at him, but then caught her breath again. He helped her as she gracefully stepped up and into the compartment. He followed behind her, closing the door. A foolish smile strode over her face.
"What kind of old-fashioned date would this be if I didn't have a carriage ride arranged?" The horses began to move as she laughed. They rode through the city of New York merrily, pretending that no one else in the world existed. And, for just a moment, for the two lovebirds, no one else did.