Lifeboats

Richard Freaking Castle.

Who knew?

He's gaping at her, his jaw hanging loose the way it used to when she suggested an adventure. One time when it snowed she dragged a tire from her dad's old truck out of the garage, nudged it towards him and grinned. It took him a solid five minutes to get his eyes back into his head.

"Rick? What are you doing here?" She says again, can't seem to get past the stumbling block of his presence, how those same startling eyes still turn her guts to water.

His breath catches in his throat and he swallows hard, finally smiles at her. "You forgetting I grew up with Carson too?"

Oh, God. His eyes. They crease at the corners when he grins at her like rivulets of mirth to draw her in. "I didn't know you were still in touch with him."

"I'm not, really." He shrugs, shifts from foot to foot like he doesn't know how to arrange his bones in front of her. "Looks like he invited everyone he's ever known though, huh?"

She reaches out to smooth a thumb over the back of his hand, can't quite seem to help herself. She hasn't held his hand for-

Jesus. Twenty years.

"Katie-" he watches the circling tenderness of her thumb, eyes awash with longing, and she takes her hand back, folds it uncomfortably into the crease of her elbow.

"It's just Kate now. And you're not Ricky Rogers anymore, are you."

"You called me Castle." He smirks at her, reaches for her hand so very carefully, centuries passing in the space between her heartbeats.

She lets him have it, the kiss of their palms and the curl of his fingers around hers. "I've seen you on TV. Page Three. Oh Rick, you made it."

"You read the books, Katie Beckett?"

"Kate. And no." Yes.

It's too much for her right now. She loves his books, clung to them after her mother's death like a lifeboat. She couldn't have him, couldn't quite ever manage to just call, and so she swaddled herself in his words. And when she closed her eyes, they were still ten years old and lying on their backs in her yard, a patch of naked earth under her fingers where she'd brushed the leaves aside.

There's a dusting of shadow across his eyes, thrumming tension in his jaw that he can't quite keep from her. "Oh. Okay. Not to everyone's taste I guess. And that Kate thing's gonna take some getting used to."

"I'm a detective now, Rick. I can't exactly still be Katie."

"A detective? Detective Kate Beckett. Wow. How did we get to be thirty three years old?" He runs a hand over his face, all sharp angles and lines of wear. It's so odd. She knows what he looks like, has seen him grinning at her from a dozen book jackets, and still it takes her breath away.

Kate squeezes his hand, lets the nudging flow of the people behind them take her into the ballroom itself. "It's crazy. Oh, Rick. You have a daughter, right?"

"Yeah, Alexis. She's nine."

"Nine. Wow. How did that happen?"

"Well, when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much-" she smacks at his arm, shoves him towards the bench seat. It's so-

Yeah, easy. Doing this, going right back to where they used to be. Him teasing, her pretending to be the serious one even as she laughs at him.

He tugs on her hand so she falls down to sit next to him, the stretch of her thigh aligning with his. He turns to her, that private smile that still looks the same, the one he used to shoot her in class when she answered a question right.

Proud. He always used to say that, always introduced her to everyone as his best friend. And now he's smoothing an escaped curl back from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear, and her guts twist hard, all of her humming with awareness.

God, she's missed him.

Rick thinks maybe he should be ashamed that it takes her elbow at his ribs for him to realise that the ceremony is over. He's just been so caught up in her, the beautiful warmth of her body next to his and the soft hum of her pleasure at the service.

Kate.

He can't reconcile the knowledge of her presence with twenty years of longing, can't find a way to move past the catch in his lungs every time he glances at her. They stand to see the bride and groom walk down the aisle and Rick catches her fingers in his, laces them together and moves closer to keep the clasp of their hands safe between their bodies.

She hums, only a snatch of her profile visible as she watches the newly married couple make their way out of the ballroom, and then she's turning back to face him.

So much joy there, fluid over her cheeks and dripping from the ends of her hair. He wants to kiss her. Always did.

He remembers that one morning she knocked on his door to walk to school with him and his heart clattered against his ribcage so hard she must have heard it, his hand clammy when she took it to tug him over the threshold. And he pressed his stupid, twelve year old mouth to her cheek in supplication.

Kate tilts her head to watch him, that soft and easy smile flirting at the corners of her mouth. He grins back and tugs on the join of their hands just to feel her resist, keep her with him. "Are you going straight to the reception?"

"It's in the next room." She laughs, shaking her head at him even as she steps out of the row of seats, turns to help an elderly gentleman battle his way through their slice of the crowd. She's still got his hand in hers so he has to stretch, take a staggering step towards her before he can round the bench seat and follow her into the aisle.

"Don't want to lose each other." He squeezes, and she turns a look back over her shoulder to him. Oh. Yeah.

Okay, there's some subtext there.

"No." Kate finds a smile for him and then she's striding ahead, tugging him along in her rip current. He stumbles, has to balance himself with a hand at her waist as they make it to the door. He wants to bring her back against him and traverse her neck, a holy pilgrimage to the sacred place behind her ear.

Instead, he holds the door for her to go past him and he follows her to find the seating chart.

Kate pulls her own chair out before Castle can do it for her and tries not to smirk at him thrumming with want next to her. They're at the singles table, of course. Only, it doesn't seem quite so bad with him here. Not that they're-

No. She can't think about that. But here he is and so is she and now neither of them has to do this alone.

"So, chicken, fish or vegetarian?" Castle grins. He's moved his chair to be near to her and it makes him seem cast adrift from his place setting, floating in the in-between.

Kate finds herself smiling back, can't seem to tone it down even a little. Not now. Not after twenty years without him.

"Seriously? You're not going to ask about my life?"

He shrugs at that, arranges his napkin over his thighs to avoid looking at her. "Not if you don't want me to."

She sucks in a breath through her teeth at that, parts her mouth for words that she doesn't have. He'd always been the one to talk them out of trouble, always knew the right thing to say. She'd been the one throwing the punches.

"You can ask. But I'm not promising to tell you everything." She settles back in her chair, watches him stuttering over which question to ask first.

And then he looks up at her and all of it falls away and it's him, those eyes again and the softly turned corners of his mouth and his hand coming up to find hers. Their palms kiss and he circles his thumb over her knuckles, her whole body flaring with heat at his touch.

"You look good."

The gravel of his voice has her clenching her jaw and shifting in her seat, unwittingly putting her body close enough that the warmth of him permeates her clothes and skin, settles bone-deep.

She swallows hard, dips her head so he doesn't see the flare of heat at her cheeks. "You look good too."

"You're not looking at me." He chuckles, a thing all in his throat that makes her breath catch. And then his hand is cradling her cheek and lifting her head to meet his eyes, so much terrifying expectation in them.

He drops his hand to the table, his finger tracing the edge of her place card. "So. Detective, huh?"

"Yeah. Yes. Homicide."

"Homicide?" He startles at that, his whole body twisting in his seat to face her, their knees crashing together. "Wow. How did that happen?"

She grits her teeth, has to take a moment to forget the image of her mother's broken body, forget that alley, forget the nights she spent curled in bed needing him still even after six years.

"My mother. She, uh-"

"Oh shit. Oh, Katie. I'm so sorry. I forgot for a moment." He drops both hands to his lap like his only other option is reaching for her and she burns with the need for it, his embrace.

"You know?"

"I saw it on the news. I wanted to call." He sits back in his chair and the sudden distance between their bodies opens like a chasm, sucks her right in so she could fall against him.

Instead, she shrugs, feels her bones too stark under her skin. "Yeah, well. I wanted to catch the guys who did it."

"And did you? Catch them."

"No, I- no." Kate knots her fingers at the knuckles and rests her hands at her knee, studiously not looking at him.

"Oh."

"Yeah." She swallows, finds she can meet his eyes again. He doesn't say he's sorry and she's glad, can't take another platitude after thirteen years of strained smiles.

"But you're still a detective, right?"

"Yeah, I-" she flushes, can't quite believe how easily she can talk about it with him. Already her body is flooding with passion, that same hum of delicious anticipation as when she has a suspect cornered, a confession so rich and close her bones sing with it. "I love it."

"Wow. Any interesting cases recently?"

"Actually, yeah." She grins at the memory, laughs out loud as Castle drags his chair closer and props his chin on his hands, so much of that little-boy delight in his eyes, the set of his mouth. "I have two other guys on my team, and to cut a long story short, I ended up cuffed to one of them."

"Handcuffed?" He splutters, earns himself a disapproving look from an older couple at the next table.

"Yeah. And then there was a tiger."

"A tiger." He clutches at her hand, his grip strong and sure like they've spent the last twenty years holding hands, like it's normal. He's staring at her mouth and for one tremulous moment she thinks he's going to kiss her.

And then he lets her go, leans back in his seat again. The lines of his body are still open, still wanting, but he's trembling with restraint.

"A tiger. We lived, obviously, but it was close."

She pours a glass of water for each of them, takes a slow sip of hers and hopes the cool slide of the liquid will do something to battle back the ache of want that sits low in her stomach. He watches her, and then he takes her hand with a sort of desperate determination, clutches it close to his chest.

"I'm glad you lived."

She dances with him.

She's not even drunk yet, and here she is against him, the lush and sensual line of her body coming in close and then moving away over and over, leaving him breathless.

And sure, yeah, she's buzzed. So is he. So is everyone here. But she's steady on those heels (shit, those insanely erotic heels) and she's coherent and she keeps smiling at him like she knows exactly what she's doing. Like it's funny that he wants her so badly he could cry.

He manages not to touch her until the music changes and then he hooks a hand at the curve of her waist and pulls her in, aligns her with him knees to chest. Their hips clash as she settles her head against his shoulder and he brushes her hair back behind her ear, rests his mouth at her cheekbone.

"You look so beautiful."

Her eyes slam shut at that, the soft brush of charcoal lashes over her cheeks making him burn to kiss her there. "Are you seriously slow dancing with me right now? We just met."

Castle can't help but laugh at that and she shifts back from him to meet his eyes, smiling too. He strokes his thumb over her ribs, his other hand curling around her shoulder. "We just found each other again."

She hums her agreement, her body swaying in time with his. "I guess that's true. But there's so much you don't know, Castle."

"So tell me."

She stiffens a little in his arms, a falter in her step that he tries to ignore. He's not letting her run. He drops his hand at her shoulder, laces their fingers together again to keep her close. "I don't even know where to start. What do you want to know?"

"Why do you call me Castle?"

She smirks at that, raises an eyebrow at him. Yeah, Kate, he's noticed. It's sort of cute, actually. No one's ever called him that before. "It's a cop thing, I guess? I call all my colleagues by their last names."

"But I'm not your colleague."

"No." She steps in closer, her thighs brushing his through his dress pants, making him clutch harder at her waist. "You're not."

"I like it."

"Good." She grins at him, a glimpse of her tongue behind her teeth that chokes him, has him falling into her.

She's laughing even as she catches him and then the music changes again, the tempo picking up. He stifles a groan and waits to see if she moves away but she's sliding her palms up his chest now and cradling the back of his neck, her hips swinging in time.

He sets both hands at her waist, low enough that if he just stretched his fingers a little more he could-

Yeah. He wants her. He wants her badly enough that he forgets the cancer, forgets the twenty year gap he has to breach and he moves with her.

He stands at her back to watch the bride and groom leave, wants so badly to band an arm around her waist. She turns to face him as he starts to move and he grunts, half surprise and half unruly disappointment.

"I think I'm gonna go home now. I was only really here for Carter anyway."

"Oh, yeah. Me too. Walk you out?" He tries to look open, easy, like her answer doesn't matter to him, and he must succeed because she grins and hooks her arm through his, leads him to the door.

Castle pulls out his phone, shudders as the night air hits his skin. Only his hands and face, really, but Kate's dress doesn't cover much. She must be freezing.

He cradles his phone between his cheek and shoulder, slides out of his coat and slips it over her shoulders before she can protest. She's staring at him as he wraps things up with the car service and leans back against the building, the brick façade sharp through his jacket, his button down.

"I called my car service. You want to share?"

She startles at that, shrugs her shoulders inside his coat like it won't sit right. Like the envelope of his body heat makes her uncomfortable. "I think I'll just get a cab. But thanks."

The light from inside casts a halo around her, paints shadow under her cheekbones when she looks up at him. That soft smile is still there even as her eyes fill with regret and she dips her chin again. He wants so badly to cradle her cheek in his palm, bring her up to look at him and kiss her until the stoic line of her frame turns liquid against him.

Instead, he turns half-away. "I had a great time tonight. It was really good to see you."

"Yeah." Kate takes a step back from him and folds her arms over her stomach, her shoulders set in fortification. "Yeah, me too."

She turns to go and Castle's breath catches in his throat, his body surging towards her before he even knows what he's doing. He snags her wrist and turns her back around to face him, his mouth already over hers to consume her gasp.

Her kiss is frantic and biting, her nails forging lines of sweet, sharp pressure over his scalp, and then she's gone from him.

"Katie-"

She brings a trembling hand up to swipe at the kiss-smudged corners of her mouth; her eyes closed against him like that can erase the clatter of his stupid heart against his ribs.

"Don't. Okay? I can't do this."

"I'm sorry." Castle rocks forward onto his toes, his whole body straining for her even as she takes another step away. "Kate, I'm sorry. I just want you. So badly."

"No, damn it." She folds her arms again, sways like she's suddenly unsteady on those heels. And he knows, he knows she can balance just fine in them, remembers the teasing press and cease of her body against his over and over as they danced. So it must be-

It must be him. She's just as affected as he is.

"Please, Kate. I missed you every day. I hated my mother for making me leave you."

She shakes her head at that and a bitter laugh slides up from some dark place inside, somewhere she's been nursing for years without him. "You could have called. You said you'd write me and you didn't. It's not impossible to stay in touch if you really want to."

She tugs his coat off and hands it to him, her body immediately erupting in gooseflesh. He wants to keep her warm, damn it. He wants-

So much.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry." He has nothing else, no excuses, nothing. He can't even remember now why he didn't just write to her, why he didn't call.

He should have. God, he should have.

"Castle, you left me. And I can't trust you won't do it again. I have to go home."