Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter! I hope this second chapter satisfies. Partly inspired by the deleted scene from "Knockdown" because I love it so much.
Thankful
Chapter 2
What had she gotten herself into?
Kate's steps slowed a little as she stepped out of the elevator and headed down the hall to the door of Castle's loft. Even from there, she could hear faint sounds spilling out from inside, filtering through the walls. She could hear muffled upbeat music playing and then the sound of multiple voices, punctuated by a laugh—girlish, that she immediately guessed was Alexis. But the cheerful sounds had her briefly wondering if Castle had invited others to join them for this dinner. Of course Castle had every right to invite whomever he wanted to his own home but she didn't really relish the idea of a real holiday party, of socializing with strangers for a few hours, especially knowing what Castle's parties tended to be like. His Halloween party had been quite over-the-top enough and while she'd enjoyed it—pranking Castle for his trick with the made-up story from his childhood had been great—she wasn't feeling up to that sort of thing today. Thanksgiving, the memories associated with her mom, and the way it marked the traditional start to the holiday season tended to make her melancholy and she didn't like the idea of forced jollification with strangers.
Well, it was too late to back out now.
Kate mentally steeled herself as she knocked on the door of the loft, hearing the brief break in the sound of voices.
And then the door swung open to reveal Martha in a dress of cerise and bright green that was just a shade or two removed from being eye-searingly bright. "Katherine darling, you're here! Come in, come in!"
As she spoke, Martha had already been pulling Kate inside, taking the bag Kate was holding and waving a hand in the direction of the coat closet in one motion. "Put your coat away, you know where the closet is. And where is your father? Isn't he joining us?"
One quick glance had been enough to tell her that there were no unfamiliar faces. Typical of Castle and his family that just the three of them had managed to make it sound like a full-fledged party. Kate suppressed a smile at the thought, as she felt a little bit of tension unwind inside her. It would just be Castle, Alexis, Martha, and her dad. She could handle that.
"He's coming, just not with me because we're coming from totally different directions so he said he'd just take a cab on his own," Kate explained as she hung her coat up.
Alexis looked up with a smile and a wave from where she was standing at the kitchen island. "Hi, Detective Beckett. Happy Thanksgiving!"
"Hi, Alexis. Happy Thanksgiving to you too."
"Oh don't you look lovely," Martha enthused as she ushered Kate further into the loft. Martha was a whirlwind but Kate couldn't help but feel warmth blossoming in her chest at Martha's exuberant welcome.
"Thank you, Martha. Happy Thanksgiving."
"Happy Thanksgiving to you as well, Katherine! Now, what is this? Oh, Katherine, this looks wonderful! Richard, look what Katherine brought."
Castle looked up from where he had been fussing over a beautifully-browned turkey. "Beckett, you're here!" He froze, the last word abruptly truncated as he stared.
Kate felt a little flutter in her chest at the way he was looking at her, suddenly self-conscious and aware that she didn't even have pockets that would give her something to do with her hands. "What, Castle?" She tried for bravado, to sound like her usual self.
He closed his mouth and then answered, his voice sounding oddly unlike himself, "You're wearing a skirt."
She'd decided to wear a skirt along with her sweater, reasoning that she shouldn't exactly wear jeans or look like she came from work for a dinner like this. The skirt was perfectly decent, cut to flow and not to cling too tightly to her hips and went down nearly to her knees, but the way Castle was staring at her—she felt a tide of color rising in her cheeks, suddenly feeling as if she were wearing a tight miniskirt that skirted the edge of decency, the sort of thing she'd had to wear a couple times when going undercover in Vice. Damn it. She was blushing! Just from a look! But there was something amazing and—and powerful—about knowing that the sight of her could stun him so, make Castle lose his train of thought so completely. Kate didn't often think about her looks, apart from being confident enough in her attractiveness; she had been the object of too many admiring glances from men to put much stock into it. But this was different. Castle, who was so used to having beautiful models and actresses on his arm, who had dated and probably slept with some of the best-looking women in the City. That the man who signed women's chests at his book release parties, and was normally so smoothly charming, so much the brash playboy, could be affected by her so strongly just… did something to her. She could resist—mostly—his smooth charm but this—this sincerity, this awe—she didn't have many defenses against it, against a Castle who was so clearly bowled over by her.
But she managed a quirk of her lips, a more usual roll of her eyes. "Well spotted, Castle."
"I just… you don't wear skirts that often."
Never for work, except in the occasions when she needed to dress up to go undercover. She made herself shrug. "I'm not on duty today."
"No, no you're not," he affirmed rather absently before almost visibly shaking himself. "You brought dessert? You really shouldn't have. I told you we had everything under control."
"It's just a pie. And anyway, since when do I do what you tell me to?"
He gave a brief laugh. "Touché, Detective. Well, now we have three pies for dessert and cookies too. Can I get you something to drink? We have water, juice, soda, apple cider, tea, and of course, coffee, if you want it."
Kate scanned the island where the little array of drinks was sitting out, mentally preparing how to subtly mention to Castle not to offer wine or any other alcoholic beverages to her dad when he arrived, when she realized that there was no alcohol in sight. No wine or champagne or beer or anything. She looked at Castle, meeting his eyes, to see one of his insouciant smirks. But for once, something about the look in his eyes told her that his apparent carelessness was a facade and that the absence of alcohol was deliberate. Because her dad was coming. Oh. She felt a treacherous warmth in her chest. She hadn't really expected—after all, she'd only told Castle about her dad's struggles once, more than six months ago, and never mentioned it again. She'd been prepared to have to remind Castle. Not because she didn't trust her dad's sobriety—she did—and she would be there at dinner in any case—but, well, there was no need to put temptation into his way or otherwise remind her dad. She was used to being careful like this where her dad was concerned. It was, although she hadn't admitted it, part of the reason she'd been a little relieved that her dad had insisted that he could just take a cab to Castle's loft and she didn't need to go out of her way to pick him up, so she could arrive a little early and make sure no alcohol was served. And she knew enough of Castle's—and Martha's—habits to know that wine was a near-constant staple with their dinner.
Not today. Because her dad was coming and Castle had remembered. Remembered about her dad, just like he had remembered her coffee order so many months ago. She felt a little flutter of some emotion she didn't try to identify at the thought of how Castle remembered these things about her, the way he reacted to every tiny little piece of information she let slip, the way his eyes widened, his lips curving. She tried to tell herself it was just research, that he was just trying to get details right for Nikki Heat, but that story was seeming more feeble by the day.
She couldn't help but smile at him, a silent thank you in her eyes, but all she said was, "The apple cider sounds good, thanks."
"One glass of apple cider coming right up."
He moved around the island to the drinks and she suppressed a smile as she got the full effect of his apron, a surprisingly subdued black with gray accents but when he moved, she realized that it had a Star Wars theme, a shadowy image of Darth Vader and the words "The Force is strong with this one" printed on the front. Typical Castle. And she absolutely did not notice the way his rolled-up shirtsleeves revealed and seemed to emphasize his strong forearms or the deftness of his large hands as he opened up the bottle of apple cider and poured out a glass. She didn't notice. She didn't care. It didn't matter to her.
That was her story and she was sticking to it.
He handed her the glass of cider, her fingers brushing against his as she accepted it, sending an errant little tingle through her fingers and into her hand. Damn it.
He poured himself a glass as well and touched his glass to hers in a brief toast. "Happy Thanksgiving, Beckett."
"Same to you, Castle." She turned to surveying the array of food. "Is there anything I can help with? Alexis?"
Alexis flashed her a quick smile before returning her attention to the baking pan she was spooning sweet potatoes into. "No, that's all right, Kate. The sweet potato casserole just needs to be baked for a little while but otherwise we're all done."
"Don't forget the marshmallows!" Castle interjected.
Alexis rolled her eyes a little. "Dad, you'd never let us forget the marshmallows."
"They're the most important part!" he defended, picking up a bag of marshmallows on the counter and popping a couple into his mouth. "Ready?"
Alexis made a gesture with her hands. "Go ahead, Dad."
He poured the marshmallows into the baking pan until Alexis elbowed him. "Dad, stop! That's too much!"
He made a face at her. "You can never have too many marshmallows."
"Da-ad!" Alexis made an exasperated face at him.
"I think Alexis is right, Castle," Kate chimed in with a quick smile at the girl. "It's supposed to be sweet potato casserole with a topping of marshmallows not a marshmallow casserole with a crust of sweet potatoes."
Castle gave her a look of theatrical dismay. "You haven't even been here five minutes and you're already taking sides against me? How my hospitality is repaid!" he lamented histrionically.
"Get over it, Castle, You ought to be used to me disagreeing with you by now," she told him rather tartly.
"See, Beckett agrees with me. Now move, Dad," Alexis inserted, nudging Castle so she could put the casserole dish into the oven. "There!"
"Alexis, darling, can you give me a hand?" Martha asked from where she was fussing over the place settings at the table.
"Of course, Grams," Alexis agreed brightly and hurried off, leaving Castle to watch with a faint, fond smile curving his lips, as usual.
He really was such a good dad, she thought, struck by it all over again whenever she saw Castle with Alexis. It was easy to forget with how he usually acted so immature, the hyperactive man-child that he was, but then she would see him with Alexis. Still overtly silly but with an underlying depth of feeling, of, well, responsibility too with how he worried over the girl.
He blinked at her. "What?"
"Just admiring the spread of food, Castle," she answered lightly and not untruthfully. There was quite an array of food, with close to ten different covered dishes on the counter alongside the turkey. It looked like more than enough food to feed the entire homicide division at the precinct. "You sure there's nothing I can do to help?"
"All taken care of, like Alexis said. We're pretty much ready to go once your dad gets here."
"Really, this is all way too much. I wish you'd let me help, bring some of the side dishes, at least. You and Alexis must have been cooking all day."
Castle shrugged. "Not really. We did about half of it yesterday so today's been pretty relaxed, actually. Believe me, Beckett, Alexis and I have done Thanksgiving prep for the last few years so we've got a system for it and a schedule for when to make what dish and everything so things don't get too rushed."
"Let me guess, Alexis was the one who came up with the system."
He glanced around and leaned forward with the air of one about to impart a secret. "She's such a slave-driver. It's terrible."
She laughed out loud, couldn't help it. He was just so… cute was the only word that came to mind, as much as she hated to think it, with his confidential pose, the droll mischief lighting up his eyes and his expression, even as his eyes were soft with affection for his daughter. "Yeah, I can see you're clearly suffering terribly."
"Your sympathy is overwhelming," he quipped, matching her sarcasm.
"I think you'll live."
Her words were interrupted by the sound of a knock. And that must be her dad, as punctual as always.
"That'll be my Dad," she explained unnecessarily and moved towards the door.
Martha beat her to it, opening the door with one of her trademark dramatic flourishes. "You must be Jim Beckett. I'm Martha Rodgers, Richard's mother. It's wonderful to meet you! Now, come in, come in, make yourself at home!"
"Hello, Ms. Rodgers."
"Oh, call me Martha. We don't stand on ceremony here. Richard has been talking about Katherine so much it seems like she's practically family so that makes you family too."
"Hi, Dad," Kate quickly stepped in, seeing that her father was looking a little overwhelmed by Martha's extravagant welcome and gestures, to say nothing of her flamboyant dress. She was curious to see what her dad would make of Martha, who was practically his diametric opposite, being loud and exuberant where her dad was reserved and tended to quiet.
"Oh, Katie, there you are."
Kate greeted her father with a hug, accepting his kiss on the cheek. "You've met Martha, of course, but come and meet Alexis and Castle."
Kate slipped her arm into her dad's as she accompanied him to the table. "Dad, this is Alexis. Alexis, my dad, Jim Beckett."
Alexis smiled and shook Jim Beckett's hand. "Hi, Mr. Beckett. It's nice to meet you."
"Hello, Alexis. Katie tells me you made quite an impression when you were volunteering at the precinct recently."
Alexis flushed a little. "Oh, not really. I was mostly just cataloguing little, unimportant stuff," she demurred.
"I think Anna Knolls would disagree with you on that," Kate told her with a smile. "She's the woman whose family photos Alexis returned," she added for her dad's benefit.
"It wasn't hard work or anything so I didn't mind doing it."
"Well, I, for one, think that was a wonderful thing you did," her dad said approvingly.
"Thank you, Mr. Beckett," Alexis smiled with a touch of shyness.
Her dad returned Alexis's smile and Kate saw that her dad, at least, was already entirely won over by one Castle, at least. (Unsurprisingly.)
And then it was Castle's turn. God, she was about to introduce Castle to her dad! If anyone had told her she'd do this a couple months ago, she'd have sworn they were out of their minds. What was she doing, letting Castle meet her dad, putting a sizable chink in the wall of distance she tried to keep between the work life that Castle had insinuated himself into and the rest of her life?
"Dad, this is Rick Castle. Castle, my dad, Jim Beckett."
Castle hurried out from behind the island to shake her dad's hand. "Mr. Beckett, it's an honor to meet you, sir. I'm so glad you could join us."
"Thank you for inviting me and please, call me Jim. I feel like I know you already. I've heard a lot of great things about you from Katie."
Wait, what? She hadn't—when had she—what was her dad saying? Kate felt herself flush. "Dad!" she hissed.
Castle's eyes widened a little and Kate felt his quickly withdrawn glance. "Really? Well, that's nice to hear. I guess she saves all those nice things to say about me for when she's talking to you," he joked.
Kate turned to Castle. "He's just being polite. I have not been saying great things about you." She inwardly winced. That had been rude, too blunt, and she suddenly felt a twinge of guilt but then felt better as she saw from Castle's teasing look that as usual, the words appeared to have slipped off him like water off a duck's back. For the first (and probably last) time, she was thankful for Castle's ego.
Anyway, it wasn't like what she'd said to her dad about Castle had been untrue, she told herself, ignoring the fact that even her inner voice was starting to sound rather petulant. She'd said he was annoying, immature, egotistical, a wise-cracking jackass, like a rambunctious puppy with no sense of boundaries, and someone who didn't take anything seriously. She might have admitted, once, maybe twice, that he'd turned out to be surprisingly helpful on some of their cases but that was it. She didn't know what her dad was talking about.
"Oh, Katie's not one to flatter so I'm inclined to believe the nice things she's said."
Oh, now that was too much. "Dad! What are you talking about? I haven't—"
Her dad finally turned to look at her. "I read between the lines, Katie. I'm a lawyer, after all," he answered blandly.
She narrowed her eyes at her dad as she heard Castle smother a laugh and turned her glare onto Castle. On second thought, clearly letting her dad meet Castle had been a mistake.
Her dad turned back to Castle. "I read your book, the one you based on Katie."
Kate stared at her dad. "You read Heat Wave?" her question overlapping with Castle's, "Oh, well, thank you."
"I enjoyed most of it very much." There was the faintest emphasis, a slight shift in tone, on the word "most."
Most of—oh shit. Kate abruptly remembered Page 105 of Heat Wave and felt her entire body seem to go up in flames as she blushed scarlet. Her dad had read that?!
She didn't want to look at Castle, didn't want to see him with the memory of Page 105 in her head, but her eyes had stopped obeying the instructions of her brain and darted over to see Castle abruptly looking ill at ease. Good. Served him right.
"Well, uh," he began less than fluently, "while my books are grounded in reality, a lot of aspects of them are just… fantasy…"
Kate choked on air.
"Not my personal fantasy—just my imagination," Castle hastily added and then backtracked, "Not that I imagine that about—uh—I need to check something in the oven, excuse me!" he blurted out and then he fled.
Leaving Kate to try desperately to cool her cheeks. "I didn't know you'd read Heat Wave, Dad," she said, trying to sound calm and collected. She was Detective Kate Beckett; she'd worked in Vice. There was no reason to blush because her dad—oh god, her dad!—had read a (fictional!) sex scene involving her and—not her because she wasn't Nikki Heat and Castle wasn't Jameson Rook and she should have shot Castle when she found out about Page 105 anyway. Not that it mattered because there was nothing going on between her and Castle and never would be. Ever.
Her dad raised his eyebrows a little. "Did you really think I wouldn't read a book that was written about my own daughter?" Put like that… But really, it had never occurred to her to think her dad would read Castle's book. Her dad wasn't one for reading mysteries or popular fiction in general, usually read classics, nonfiction history, legal books, and the occasional book about sports.
"I know Castle's books aren't really your type of thing and anyway, I am not Nikki Heat. Most of that is just a product of Castle's overactive imagination."
"Oh, I don't know. I found Nikki Heat to be intelligent, quick-witted, determined, and brave." He paused. "Call me biased but that sounds an awful lot like you to me, Katie."
She bit her lip but a small smile escaped her anyway. "Thanks, Dad. So you liked the book?"
"I did, actually." Her dad glanced toward Castle and then added, his voice dropping slightly, "Rick knows how to tell a story and his characters are surprisingly well-rounded and three-dimensional."
"Mom would be so thrilled," Kate blurted out before she'd thought. It was true. She found herself suddenly remembering times when her dad had teased her mom for liking Castle's books so much, calling them 'low-brow popular fiction' or 'fodder for the masses' as a joke, and her mom retorting that she could recognize good writing when she saw it, unlike Jim who liked to read boring books.
Her dad's expression faltered, becoming more sober before he quickly manufactured a small smile. "I can hear your mom saying, I told you so, even now."
A sound that was half a laugh mingled in with the beginnings of a sob escaped her. "Mom did say she'd get you to read one of Castle's books eventually."
"As always, your mom was right." A flash of pain crossed her dad's face. "I shouldn't have been so stubborn in resisting all those years."
She could have kicked herself. She knew how much her dad still missed her mom. "I still don't think Nikki Heat is much like me, though."
"Well, there are differences but overall, I could see the resemblance," her dad commented and then added more cheerfully, "And I definitely liked the dedication."
The dedication. Kate felt treacherous warmth blossoming in her chest at the memory of that dedication and, yes, of the look in Castle's eyes when he'd assured her that he'd meant it. "Yes, well, I suppose Castle has his moments."
Her dad smiled. "Well, I, for one, am inclined to like anyone who thinks you're extraordinary."
She returned his smile. "I—"
"Okay, dinner is served, everyone!" Castle's announcement interrupted her and she and her dad both turned towards the kitchen. "We do things buffet style for Thanksgiving so everyone, help yourselves. Mother, would you like to do the honors and start?"
"I would love to, Richard. For now, we feast!" Martha declared with an expansive gesture that made it seem as if she personally were responsible for the whole feast, the invitation to dinner, and possibly the entire tradition of Thanksgiving in America. Kate caught Castle's grimace and suppressed a smile. Martha was irrepressible and unique and as much as her mannerisms were overly dramatic for real life, it was hard not to like her for all that, as open-hearted as she was and facing life with such zest and energy.
"Jim, what would you like to drink?" Castle queried. "There's apple cider, soda, juice, water of course, tea, or coffee if you'd prefer."
"Water is fine for me, thank you, Rick."
"Water it is," Castle declared. "Please, Jim, go help yourself."
It was a few minutes as they all filled their plates and then sat down at the table, Castle going last and taking the seat at the head of the table with Kate and her dad on one side and Alexis and Martha on the other.
"Now, Happy Thanksgiving, everyone," Martha declaimed. "Here we are, all healthy, and it's just wonderful that Katherine and her dad are able to join us for the first time. I must say, we do have a lot to be thankful for. Richard?"
"Yes, Mother, I'll start," Castle said and Kate started a little as she felt him grasp her hand. She shot him a look, opening her mouth to protest, but then realized that he had also taken Alexis's hand and Alexis had taken Martha's and Martha had reached across the table to grasp Jim's. Kate felt her dad's glance and then her dad took her hand, completing the little circle. Well, if it was part of the Castle family tradition… It was fine. No big deal. Never mind that it seemed she could feel the warmth from Castle's hand holding hers along her entire arm.
She wasn't noticing.
She tore her gaze away from the sight of their joined hands, from the way his hand practically dwarfed hers. He had nice hands, strong fingers, neatly-trimmed nails, his skin soft and uncallused. She wondered what his hands would feel like if he touched her elsewhe—no, stop that! She slammed a mental door on her errant thoughts. Not going there. Absolutely not. Because it was never going to happen. Ever.
She focused her gaze on Alexis instead. Sensible—safe—girl.
"This year, I'm thankful for Alexis, first of all."
To Kate's surprise, Alexis rolled her eyes a little. "Not again, Dad," she sighed and then leaned across the table to address Kate, sotto voce, "He says this every year."
"Well, it's true every year," Castle defended. "It's certainly not my doing that you keep being so amazing."
"Dad, really," Alexis scolded mildly but her words were entirely belied by the softness in her eyes, the faint smile curving her lips.
Castle cleared his throat loudly. "If you're done interrupting me, I'm also thankful to Bob Weldon."
"The Mayor? Why?" It was Kate's turn to interrupt before she could think better of it.
"Because he's the one that arranged for me to shadow you," he answered as if it should be obvious.
Kate felt a little unwilling but undeniable flutter inside her. As she'd said to her dad, Castle did have his moments. In spite of how annoying he could be at times, there was something so… disarming about him, about how much he appreciated spending time with h—shadowing her for research. It wasn't about her personally, she reminded herself. "Right, I forgot he's the one to blame for you," she managed to joke.
Castle made a face at her. "And lastly, I'm thankful that Connelly and Patterson are such bad poker players that I won for the third time in a row at our last poker night. Revenge for their teasing me over not being as prolific as they are."
"Oh Richard, honestly!" Martha's scold overlapped with Alexis's "Dad!" and Jim Beckett's laugh.
"Me next," Alexis said brightly. "I'm thankful for my friends, who are always there to make me laugh and try new things. Next, I'm thankful to Detective Beckett."
Kate straightened up in surprise, meeting Alexis's eyes, as the girl went on, with a quick smile. "For letting Dad shadow her because it gets him out of the house a lot more—"
"Hey!" Castle protested.
Alexis smirked at him. "It gives me a lot more freedom with him not around."
Kate and Jim both laughed while Castle huffed.
"And lastly, I'm thankful for Dylan."
Castle emitted something like a growl and Kate glanced at him in some confusion.
"It's so nice to have a violin teacher who really understands and feels the same passion for music as I do," Alexis finished, ignoring Castle's scowl and his disgruntled huff.
Dylan. Who was—oh, wait, Kate abruptly remembered where she'd heard that name. He was the one that Castle had called Juilliard about, a month or so ago, Alexis's violin teacher that Castle had wanted to run a complete background check on, that time when Alexis had stopped by the precinct to ream Castle out.
"Well, isn't that nice. Richard, do stop making faces," Martha added before continuing, "I am thankful, first, for my God-given dramatic talents that has allowed me to support myself and Richard for most of his life," Martha began.
Castle's sigh was audible and Kate suppressed a smirk.
"Next, I'm thankful to be in my new play that's allowing me to challenge myself every day. And lastly, I'm thankful for My Face, that's allowed me to reconnect with many old friends and Chet."
Kate frowned a little, confused at Martha's phrasing. She was grateful for her face?
"Mother means her MySpace account," Castle said in an explanatory aside. "And Chet is Mother's old high school sweetheart and current victim."
He referred to his mother's boyfriend as her victim? Kate shot him a scolding look even as she had to bite her lip to hold back a laugh.
"I heard that, Richard," Martha chided him.
"Yeah, really, Dad, don't be mean," Alexis added.
"On that note, I think it's my turn," Jim spoke up, humor in his voice.
"Yes, thank you, Jim," Castle interjected fervently.
"Well, first of all, I am thankful for Katie."
Kate caught her dad's eye, exchanging small smiles with him as he squeezed her hand briefly.
"Next, I'm thankful to have work that's both challenging and fulfilling. And lastly, I'm thankful to Rick for inviting me here today."
"You're very welcome, Jim," Castle responded, his words overlapping with Alexis's "We're happy to have you, Mr. Beckett."
"Thank you, both for inviting me and for cooking this meal. Everything looks delicious," her dad responded. "Now, Katie, I think it's your turn."
Kate hesitated for the briefest second. She had thought, a little, about what she would say but now that the moment was here—well, the thing she was most thankful for was having her dad back but she found she couldn't say that aloud, not with Martha and Alexis watching her. It was too personal, touched too closely on her dad's past troubles, which she rarely spoke about and didn't want to mention now.
"I'm thankful for Captain Montgomery, who's taught me everything I know about homicide. I'm also thankful to have such good partners at work. Cops have a saying that any cop is only as good as her partner and I have some of the best in the force."
"Why, thank you, Beckett."
She shot Castle a teasing look. "I was talking about Esposito and Ryan," she retorted—truthfully.
"Touché, Detective."
"And last, I'm thankful that our last case was a relatively straightforward one so we could solve it quickly enough that I didn't need to worry about work today." She might like the weird ones but every once in a while, she did appreciate having a straightforward case, a Jack-shot-Jill-over-Bill case as the cop shorthand rhyme went—or more appropriately, a Jack-shot-Bill-over-Jill case since it had turned out that Sloan Kellington had been shot by a co-worker who'd found out that Sloan had slept with his wife.
"Hear hear," Castle agreed.
She raised her eyebrows at him. "Even though you thought the case was boring?"
"I'd rather—I didn't want to have to go to the precinct today either," he corrected himself. "Anyway, let the feast begin!" He released her hand-and it was ridiculous how her hand immediately felt cold, oddly bereft at the loss of his warmth—to make an expansive gesture, exaggerated in typical Castle fashion. But for once, Kate thought that he was doing it as a cover, to distract from what he'd started to say. He would rather—what? Would rather she not have to work, would rather she be able to join him at the loft than need to go into the precinct? She cut off her speculation abruptly. She didn't need to know.
She exchanged quick smiles with her dad and then they all started to eat. And a feast it really was, what with rolls, a salad, the turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, sweet potato casserole, two kinds of stuffing, two kinds of cranberry sauce, corn, and a green bean casserole.
She remembered what Castle had said about his "special" stuffing and made a point of trying both kinds of stuffing first. "Oh, this is delicious!" The unguarded words escaped her of their own volition and she belatedly realized that Castle hadn't even started eating yet. He'd picked up his fork but had paused to watch her.
She met his eyes, feeling her cheeks flush a little as she made herself quirk her eyebrows at him. "What, Castle, are you going to eat or are you just going to keep up with your creepy staring and watch me eat?"
"No, no, I'll eat," he answered quickly and blindly stabbed at his plate with his fork, his eyes not leaving her. "You liked the stuffing?"
"It's great," she found herself answering honestly, not downplaying it at all.
His expression seemed to break open with delight, his eyes lighting up as he grinned, one of his real smiles that was, for once, untinged with smugness.
She returned his smile, couldn't help it. He really had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen… And she just… liked him. For the first time, she allowed herself to think it, acknowledge it, without reservations or caveats. Sheliked Castle.
What that meant, how far it went, she didn't know and didn't bother trying to figure out. All she knew, all she acknowledged, was that she really did like him. Something inside her chest melted softened, a mess of emotions she didn't try to identify bubbling up inside her. He just looked so… delighted that she liked the stuffing (that he'd cooked), so happy to have done this little thing to please her. As if it were a privilege just to have made her smile. How was she possibly supposed to resist him, to preserve any sort of distance between them?
She couldn't.
A flutter of instinctive caution, of warning, took flight and she blinked and turned away, returning her attention to her plate.
But a little glow of warmth lingered in her chest as she ate and she tried not to be too conscious of his nearness, of his occasional glances at her.
It was fine. It was nothing special. They were friends, after all.
Just friends. Only that and nothing more.
~To be continued…~