A/N: I respond to peer pressure. Obviously.
Disclaimer: Not mine. As much as I interrupt them, you all should be glad about that.
0000000000000000000000000
"Oh my God, is that my dad?" She groans against the skin of his stomach and feels the muscles jump and twitch beneath her lips.
"Get up, get up, get up," Castle hisses, bending to slide his arms beneath hers and tug her up off the floor.
"Hey, hey," she soothes in a whisper, "calm down." She can't help but laugh a little at the panic-stricken look on his face. Not ideal, maybe, but after all that's happened the last few days, an unexpected visit from her dad isn't the worst that could be happening. Though, she really wanted to… "He's just checking up on me. I'm sure he won't stay long."
"That's not-," he shakes his head, "he can stay as long as he wants."
She loves her dad, but she's got all sorts of things planned with the man freaking out in front of her. "As long as he wants, huh? I'll tell him that. Ask him to spend the day, maybe."
He ignores her jesting, stands with his hands on his hips and toes tapping nervously against the hardwood. "Wait. You've got to take that off," he whispers as she reaches for the door, pointing to her attire with a flailing hand. He leans to step forward, arm outstretched (like, what, he's going to help her strip?), but must think better of it. Instead, he paces in a small circles, fingers completely mussing his hair.
"Honey, if I take this off, it'll be way more awkward."
"You're not funny."
Another knock at the door makes him startle.
With unsteady hands, he re-ties the knot on his lounge pants. That's, um, not going to help things.
"I think I am." She bends over and picks up his discarded tee shirt and pushes it into his chest. She reaches up for a too quick kiss—a tug on his lips—before turning back for the door handle. "Go get decent," she commands, voice low. Her eyes roam his body and he drops the shirt below his waist. "And relax." She can feel him glaring, doesn't even need to peek to visualize the tortured expression crossing his face.
He backs out of the room, tee still held low on his body, modestly shielding the evidence of his want—as if she hadn't witnessed him aroused and needy only hours before.
She scrapes a hand through her hair, and pulls open the door. Her dad has a phone held to his ear and drops the hand down to his side when he sees her. He lets out a deep breath and pulls her across the threshold into his arms for one of those embraces that she can never get enough of. "Hi, Daddy." He smells like Old Spice and comfort and home, and she squeezes him tighter before pulling back.
"I've been trying to call you." He doesn't sound agitated, just explanatory and so so worried. "Thank God you're okay."
"I don't even know where my phone is. I'm sorry for scaring you." Where is her phone? The last time she remembers using it was trying to call Castle on her way over here, fearful that his new doorman wouldn't let her past the lobby (A worry for naught. Looking like a drowned rat may have helped her out there.). It's probably in her jacket pocket, or maybe pants pocket—could be water-logged, dead, or crushed from those garments being tossed haphazardly around his bedroom. A concern for later…
His eyes lock into hers, her worry reflecting back at him. He's shaking his head 'no' and she's sure it's to try to ward off the guilt that's clouding her features. She hates when he burdens himself with concern for her wellbeing. "Your friends were trying very hard to reassure me that everything was probably fine, that they believed that, too. I'm not so sure I believed them. When Detective Esposito texted me that you were here and okay, I just needed to see for myself. I'm sorry; I know it's early."
"Ah, if the sun's up, it's not too early for me. You know that, Dad." She gives him a reassuring smile. "Come in, come in."
She pulls him by the elbow until he follows her into Castle's living room. He sheds his jacket and she indicates for him to drape it across one of the arm chairs. He does, then sits in its twin and clasps his hands onto his knees and sighs. She tucks a leg beneath her as she plops back onto the sofa. "You look good, Katie."
Good, huh? Her hair is a little crazy; she hasn't seen a mirror yet this morning, but can feel how untamed it is from the rain, air-drying, and Castle's fingers. Most of her make-up has been sluiced away, and what wasn't is surely smeared and smudged. And she's certainly not wearing anything flattering. She's in Castle's clothes, and oh, she sees that quick dawn of realization upon her father's face—he's just noticing her loose, masculine garb.
"Happy," he clarifies. "Unburdened?" It's obvious that he's being wholly sincere, but may be fishing a little, too. Oh, does she really want to have the 'What's going on with you and Castle?' conversation again? Her dad's just as meddlesome as Lanie (she pardons them both in the name of love), but a little less gossipy and a whole lot sneakier. "How's Rick? Where is he, by the way?"
It's totally not fair to Castle to be talking about their love life with everyone except him. No, she's making a stand. "I'm not sure where he is, exactly." Not a lie, really.
"So, he gets to sleep in, huh?" He grins. "I hope all of my knocking didn't wake him."
"He's a pretty heavy sleeper." Where the hell did that come from? That doesn't scream "I didn't sleep naked next to my partner last night" very well. "Um, when I call early for a case, it takes him forever to pick up."
"I see."
Not very convincing. "Alexis says he can sleep through anything."
"Alexis." He nods, purses his lips in thought. "Right." He doesn't sound like he doesn't believe her, but that's what lets her know that he so doesn't believe her. See? Sneaky.
"Do you stay here often?"
So now we go from beating around the bush to plowing right through it?
"Just last night." God, that makes it sound so sordid. Fix that. "It was a pretty bad storm last night. I got caught in it." He winces in sympathy. "So, I just borrowed some clothes and hung out here."
She spots Castle leaning against the bookshelf; he meets her eyes and smiles, but there's some veiled hurt there. Because of what she told (or didn't, rather) her dad? She's not hiding this; she thought he was the one uncomfortable with her dad being here, even suspecting something intimate was going on. Damn, why is this so difficult?
He mouths "Do you want me to—" and points back into his room, indicating that he'd be fine with hiding out in there a little longer. No, geez, if they're going to do this, they're going to do this.
She hears her dad say "I'm glad Rick could be here for you" and she finds herself nodding.
Her father catches that her attention is elsewhere and half-turns to where Rick is standing. "Speak of the devil. Morning." He stands from his chair and he and Castle meet each other halfway, give a hearty shake of hands. "I hope we didn't wake you."
"Ah, no sir." He looks nervous and shifty. It's cute. But, she can tell he has no clue what she's fibbed about (circled around the truth), therefore no clue what he's permitted to say. Oh, Castle. She'll make it easy.
"Actually, Lanie and Esposito stopping by woke Castle earlier. And Castle crawling out of bed woke me."
There.
Her dad raises an eyebrow, though not disparaging. Good, good. But, Castle emits this screeching choked noise and takes an exaggerated step away, as if he's expecting a physical blow to follow up the verbal one she just hurled out there. Okay, so her part was smooth, at least. He looks at her with wide eyes and she shrugs.
"We already had breakfast, Daddy, but I can get you some toast or something, if you'd like."
"No, no. I'm meeting a friend for brunch later. Coffee?"
"Coffee sounds great, actually," she responds, lifting herself off of the couch, stiff in places good and bad.
"I'll make it," Castle interrupts, shoos her back towards the sofa.
"No, no. Sit. Catch up," she smiles. You were hurt. I fixed it. You deal with it for a little bit. She bumps him with her hip on her way to the kitchen.
0000000000000000000
She hates him. Yep. That's the only explanation he can come up with. She announces to her dad they were in bed together this morning, then high-tails it into the kitchen. His heart sank at Kate hiding him—them—from her dad, the one person whose opinion probably means the most to her. He, too, thought it might be the easier route for this morning, but it felt hollow hearing it. Although, tackling the 'my-thoughts-aren't-pure-when-your-daughter-is-in-my-presence' conversation doesn't seem too appealing either.
He wonders if Kate needs help with the coffee…
"I told Katie that she looks happy." Jim breaks the silence, and for some reason it doesn't seem as awkward as it should. "I have a feeling you can take some of the credit for that."
"I don't know about that."
"I do." Well, he doesn't act like he wants to punch, maim, or otherwise harm him in any way. Win. "I've seen her smile more in the last four years than the ten before that combined. I think you're the difference, Rick."
"I appreciate that. Though, some of those smiles were probably because she was ruminating on creative, ingenious ways to murder me and get away with it." He releases a lungful of air and the leather of his couch creaks as his body relaxes some. This isn't going so badly.
Jim chuckles. "Whatever it takes, right?"
"Whatever it takes," he agrees.
"It seems a little clichéd to ask what your intentions are with my daughter." He folds his hands together and has the courtesy to appear uncomfortable for the upcoming line of questioning.
"Ah, most essential things in life are cliché. They're overused and excessively familiar for a reason. Because they're important." That sounds good, he thinks, but it helps that he truly believes it. "As a writer, it's my job to avoid them. As a father, I'm totally feeling where you're coming from. Lay it on me."
"What are your intentions with my daughter?" He asks with a deep, serious voice, then barks out a laugh and waves his hand, absolving Castle from replying. "You don't really have to answer. Or feel obligated to outline your future plans for me. Hell, you can tell me to mind my business anytime here, Rick. I just wondered how serious this is."
"I'm all in." The words come effortlessly. He doesn't know how to stifle his feelings for Kate. He's accustomed to most people using subtext and conjecture—not being guileless and direct—when enquiring on their relationship. Past hinted inferences have left him open to using humor and innuendo in reference to their status, but an honest question deserves a forthright answer. "She makes me crazy and vulnerable, makes me believe in the impossible, makes me feel like I've never felt before. She makes me think outside of the box, but color inside of the lines—makes me different and better in all of the ways it counts. And I want her all the time."
"Wow."
"I—I don't mean 'want her' like want her, well—that too. I shouldn't have said that—ignore that part." He closes his eyes. So much for this going well. "I want her with me. All the time."
"It's okay." He's so laughing at him this time. Geez. "I completely understand."
He can't shut up. Means to, but this feels so liberating. He just wants someone to understand how much he loves her. "When she's not with me, my only goal is to figure out how to remedy that, preferably as soon as possible."
"That's love, son."
Yes.
Yes.
It is.
"It is," he agrees. "It's never been like this before. For me. I never knew I would be willing to give my life for someone I didn't share blood with."
"Pray it never comes to that." Jim leans back in his chair and takes a deep breath. "Last summer, you were one step away from killing my daughter." Castle flinches. "Losing you to that bullet would have ended her, Rick."
"I would have rather it been me."
"That's because you're selfish. But we all are. It makes us human. There's not a day goes by that I don't wish my wife was still here. But don't confuse loving with sacrificing."
"How do you differentiate?"
"Put yourself in the other person's shoes. Walk around in them. How did you feel when my daughter was shot?"
His stomach clenches, memories claw at his mind. "Devastated." Completely and utterly destroyed.
"Would you want her to feel that way?"
No. Never.
"I get it." So, this is what it's like to have a father? A wealth of awesome, insightful advice. Someone who looks at things from every angle and straight-shoots, tells you like it is. He loves it. Loves her. Hell, loves him. And maybe one day, Jim can be- "I want to marry your daughter," he blurts.
For all his credit, he doesn't look shocked. "As much as I'd love to betroth you, you might want to ask her first." His lips turn-up, contentment covers his face, a nice reprieve from the solemnity. "Independent woman and all."
"I'm not sure where that came from." He presses the pads of his thumbs into his eye sockets, staving off a self-imposed headache.
"From your heart. Are you asking for my consent?"
"No! Not that I don't want your consent. I'm just not asking. But, I would ask," he rambles. "I do—want to. Marry her, I mean. But, we haven't even been on a date yet." He shifts on the couch, crosses his legs and fingers at the cuff of his lounge pants. "She would kill me for this conversation."
"What conversation?" She saunters back into the room, perilously holding three mugs of coffee. Her dad stands and takes his with a smile of thanks. Castle unfurls his legs and goes to stand, but she moves in between his knees, bends a little to hand him his mug. She looks like a seductress ready to crawl into his lap, and he suspects most of that is on purpose. She cants in a little more, lips at his ear. "What would I kill you for?"
"Not telling," he yelps, not sure whether it's from her 'I-have-so-many-ways-I-can-make-you-pay' voice or the hot coffee sloshing on his hand.
She drops to the sofa, presses into his side. He figures she miscalculated her 'safe distance from Castle ratio' and would scootch over any minute, but she doesn't. He moves his coffee to the opposite hand and licks at the liquid and sensitized flesh beneath it.
"Dad?" Oh, she uses that sly face and lip-bite on her dad too? What a sneaky woman.
"Don't look at me." Ha, he's totally on his side.
She huffs, then elbows him in the side when he expresses his amusement. "I'm not sure I'm going to like you two ganging up on me like this." Oh, she loves it, he can tell. God, he wants to kiss her. He's not so sure she'd be cool with that, though. A little bonding only goes so far.
"Too bad. Good coffee." Jim raises his mug in indication before taking another sip.
"Yes, Castle has refined tastes. Thinks his palate is too sophisticated for the normal stuff. Has me thinking the same thing now, too." She rolls her eyes.
"Sometimes it's nice to be spoiled a little," her dad suggests. "Maybe you could do some things for yourself now that you're—off work."
"I resigned. You can say that. If I'm okay with it, everyone else should be," she looks at Castle pointedly.
"Hey, I'm just saying that you should take a little time to think it through."
"I might. But, for now, I'm content." She grins at him, eyes sparkling. He's startled when she takes his mouth, coaxes his lips open and touches her tongue to his for a split second. He drifts into her (he can't help it) and she pulls back with a pop and wide-eyes. And, oh yeah, he's pretty sure she surprised herself too.
"Look at the time." Jim, not-so-subtly, lifts from the chair, stares steadily at his watch for longer than necessary. He probably thinks they're going to make-out again.
Yeah, the making-out thing isn't a bad idea. But, he can totally wait. Maybe. Um, but probably not if she keeps running her fingers along the seam of her mouth like that. He turns back towards her father, currently the safer option.
"Do you have to leave so soon? I didn't even get to hear any embarrassing stories from Kate's wild youth. You mustn't go," he states, exaggeratedly.
"I do have plenty of those." Kate gets up, moves to her dad and gives him a threatening pose before wrapping her arms around his waist. "But, I need to go home and change before my brunch date."
"If you're sure," Castle gives him an out. Her dad nods and unwraps an arm from around his daughter before offering it to him. When Jim takes his hand, he tugs him into a quick hug instead of the handshake he was expecting. "Come to dinner tonight." He looks like he may decline, so Castle adds an "I insist" to the invite.
"I will, then. That, actually, sounds really nice." He kisses Kate on the cheek before heading towards the door. "Maybe I'll even bring some photo albums," he mock-whispers in Castle's direction.
"You're uninvited." Kate points to her dad who smiles wide and shrewdly.
She pouts at him when he shows his eagerness and excitement, but slides into the cradle of his arm when he, too, moves to see her father out.
"Six work for you?" That's ten hours of Kate. He'll have to make do with that.
"Sounds great. Do you need me to bring anything?
"Just yourself. And that incriminating evidence." He winks. Kate pinches his side and when he lets out a 'yowl' she slides her cold hands up the back of his shirt and sooths the site with her fingers. Oh, she's playing dangerous before her dad even gets out the door.
"Of course. I'll see you both tonight."
Jim gets several steps out—and Castle nearly gets the door shut—before he turns around. "Oh, and Rick?"
"Sir?"
"That thing she's going to kill you for talking about…"
"Yeah?"
He steps into the elevator and presses a button. "My answer's yes."
A/N: Feedback?