Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Author's Note: Thank you, everyone, for reading and reviewing!
This last chapter is brought to you by the letters U, S, and T. Enjoy.
Thankful
Chapter 3
Dangerous.
The word flittered along the edges of her consciousness as the dinner progressed. This was so dangerous. And she possibly (probably?) shouldn't have agreed to this.
But then she heard her dad laugh at something Alexis said and saw him smile at the girl and she couldn't bring herself to regret it at all.
It was all so… seductive was the word that came to mind, as inappropriate as it seemed when it involved Alexis and Martha and her own dad. But in its way, it really was. She didn't know how Castle and his family did it, maybe by their open-heartedness, their gregariousness, but they just… pulled her in. And she could see from whenever she glanced at her dad that he felt the same, succumbing to the charm and sheer force of personality of the combined Castles.
It should have been—and at the beginning, in some ways, here and there, it was—a little awkward, as Castle and Alexis at first engaged her dad in the courteous small talk of people who didn't know each other very well. But Martha never even made a pretense of making small talk and spoke and acted as if she had known Kate and Jim for years and they were already part of the family. And before long, Alexis started to tease Castle and he retaliated and Kate couldn't help but interject, chiming in on Alexis's side, falling into the usual back-and-forth nature of their banter at the precinct and somehow, without her even consciously realizing it, the atmosphere changed, shifted. Ably assisted by Martha, who was at her lively best, or something, and told dramatic (probably exaggerated) stories that had even Jim enthralled and cracking up with laughter, and as they all relaxed further under the influence of good food and good humor, it started to feel more and more like a… a family meal.
The thought, the word, gave her a fleeting moment's pause, a twinge of something like melancholy, wistfulness, tugging at her. For a fleeting moment, her smile faltered as she thought of her mom, imagined her mom there too. Her mom teasing her and her dad, her mom talking to Alexis, her mom getting to meet an author whose books she'd liked so much…
As if they were all family.
Family. She wanted it, missed it so. Jim chuckled at something Castle said and Kate blinked, pulled back out of her reverie, exchanging quick smiles with her dad. And the little tug of grief faded in the glow of the present, dissipating like mist in the sunshine. And for once, she didn't try to think of all the reasons why it was dangerous, risky, to get so drawn into the atmosphere of warmth and affection and family that Castle and his family were so good at creating and just let herself enjoy it. Enjoy the warmth, the sense of… belonging that came with being surrounded by people who cared...
Her dad sat back in his chair with a soft grunt. "I may never eat again," he joked.
"Oh, but we haven't even had dessert yet," Alexis spoke up.
"Nonsense, Jim, Thanksgiving is a day to indulge, after all," Martha agreed.
Kate threw her dad a look of mock commiseration. "I guess that means you won't be able to have any of Mom's apple pie that I made. That's too bad."
"You made your mom's special apple pie? You should have said, Katie. For that, I'll make room, you know that."
"Well, with an endorsement like that, now I'm really looking forward to dessert," Castle exclaimed, pushing himself to his feet and picking up his plate as well as Kate's before she could react.
"I can clean up after myself, Castle," she quickly demurred.
"Too late, Beckett, I've already got it," he returned quickly, stacking her dad's plate on top of hers.
"Here, Dad, let me help," Alexis offered, suiting action to the words and collecting her plate along with Martha's.
Castle shot Alexis a quick smile. "Thanks, pumpkin."
"I must say, I think the best part about having grown up kids is being able to leave the chores to them," Martha joked, looking over at Jim. "Although in my case, it's debatable whether Richard is actually a grown up or not."
"Hey, I heard that!"
Jim and Kate both laughed.
"It's your own fault for acting like a 12-year-old most of the time, Castle," Kate quipped.
Castle made a face at her. "Haha, Beckett. Keep it up and I won't offer you a postprandial coffee. Jim," he asked with slight emphasis, "would you like coffee or tea with dessert?"
"Coffee would be great, thanks, Rick."
"Decaf or regular?"
"At this hour, better make it decaf."
"One decaf coffee it is," Castle answered, moving over to his coffee pot that looked so complicated it might have been from outer space and then getting out another regular coffee pot.
It wasn't long before the smell of coffee permeated the loft and Kate took in a deep breath, enjoying the rich scent and letting it relax her even more than she already had been. She didn't know if it was possible but Castle's coffee seemed to smell so much better than any regular coffee did. She wondered just how expensive the coffee he bought was, most likely too expensive for her to be able to afford it, even if she was more inclined to spend money on good coffee than she was on other things. But her idea of expensive and Castle's would differ significantly.
On the thought, the reminder of his wealth, she marveled, not for the first time, that a multi-millionaire could apparently be content to spend most of his days hanging out in the far-from-luxurious precinct with a bunch of cops. So much so that he was thankful to the Mayor for allowing it…
Martha and her dad's easy chat faded into the background for a moment as she considered that. That shadowing her was something Castle was thankful for. It was so… weird and freakish of him to be so excited over murder. She had never in her life met anyone who was so excited by, well, everything but about murder and the work of homicide detectives more specifically. She and other cops tended to get jaded about it, found shorthand phrases to describe case types, and even she had to retain a certain amount of distance from it all, the fact that she dealt with death every day. But she could admit that meeting Castle, having him follow her around at work, had injected a new feel to her work days. One she would miss when he had done enough research for Nikki Heat and stopped shadowing her.
"Your coffee, Jim."
Castle's voice, his presence abruptly looming over her shoulder as he handed her dad a steaming mug of coffee, brought Kate out of her little reverie.
"Thanks, Rick."
"I wasn't sure what you take in your coffee," Castle went on, offering a little bowl of sugar along with some packets of artificial sweetener. "And there's milk or cream if you want it too."
"Actually, I usually take my coffee black."
"Oh, well, then, that makes things simple."
"I know, it's boring. My—wife used to tease me about it," her dad finished, not quite smoothly, and Kate inwardly flinched at the almost imperceptible way her dad's voice changed when he referred to her mom.
Kate glanced quickly at Castle and realized that he, at least, had caught the change—he was perceptive like that—but didn't say anything and only retreated back to the kitchen with the unused sweeteners for the coffee.
He returned in a moment, though, this time with two mugs, one of which he placed in front of her. "Your coffee, Beckett."
Just one look at the coffee and she knew that he had already fixed it just the way she liked it. Without her even needing to ask. Just as he always did at the precinct. "You know me too well, Castle. Thanks." And maybe it was part of the atmosphere of the whole evening—it was Thanksgiving, after all—but she couldn't quite help the unguarded smile she gave him.
He shrugged off the thanks, but his expression gave away his pleasure. "You get cranky without coffee."
She narrowed her eyes at him and he hastily added, "But then again, so do I."
"It's true," Alexis called out from the kitchen. "One time we actually ran out of coffee and I swear passersby on the street could probably hear Dad grumbling about it."
Castle turned to throw Alexis a look of exaggerated betrayal.
"So Rick, how did you get to be such good friends with the Mayor?" her dad asked, distracting Castle.
"Well, it mostly started because it turns out he's a fan of my books," Castle began, retaking his seat and leaning forward to address Jim. Close enough that Kate could swear she could feel the heat radiating from his body. Which was ridiculous because it wasn't like he was in any way intruding into her personal space; if it had been either Espo or Ryan, she wouldn't have noticed or cared. But this was Castle and when she breathed in, she could catch the scent of his cologne—damn but the man smelled good—and he was close enough for her to reach out and touch him and as always, the top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing the strong, smooth curve of his neck, the hollow of his throat, and she found herself wondering what his skin would taste like if she touched her tongue to that sp—stop it! Kate yanked the brakes on her errant (insane) thoughts and rather jerkily pushed herself to her feet. "Let me help you, Alexis," she said hurriedly and joined the girl in the kitchen, her cheeks and her body cooling the further she got from Castle.
Ugh, god, what was wrong with her?! She wasn't—she absolutely wasn't going to think like that about Castle!
"Oh, that would be nice, Detective Beckett," Alexis smiled. "The pie you made looks delicious."
"Call me Kate, Alexis. And thanks. I hope it turned out okay. It's my mom's recipe and I haven't made it in a long time. Your pumpkin pie looks amazing."
"Oh, thank you." The girl glanced around and then added with the air of someone confessing to a heinous crime, "We just use ready-made crust from the store to save time so it's not really a big deal."
Kate suppressed a smile. Alexis had clearly inherited some of her grandmother's and her father's sense of melodrama. "I usually do too." She hadn't today because she'd had time and also, she'd felt a little on her mettle knowing that Castle and Alexis would be preparing the entire rest of the meal by hand while she would only be contributing a single pie.
Alexis grinned. "I won't tell if you won't."
"Thank you," Kate said with exaggerated gravity.
The girl laughed and then went on, "Will you cut the pies while I get out the dessert plates?"
"Sure."
Kate's attention to the pie-cutting was momentarily distracted at the sound of her dad's chuckle and she glanced back at the table to see that Castle was grinning as he gesticulated. The knife paused in her hand for a fleeting second as it abruptly occurred to her that her dad and Castle really were getting along. Of course Castle was a personable guy, charming, so it didn't mean much, she told herself, and yet somehow she was aware of a little renegade flicker of… something… inside her at the thought. Not that it mattered. It wasn't as if her dad and Castle were likely to see each other after today.
"Detective Beckett—Kate," Alexis corrected herself, a little tentatively, "about what I said earlier, about being thankful to you for getting my dad out of the house a lot more, I was kidding about that. I mean, I wasn't kidding about being thankful to you, I am but it's because, well…" Alexis's eyes darted back to Castle for a moment. "I know that my dad likes to goof off and so he probably won't tell you this but he's just happier since he started to shadow you and so I'm thankful for that."
Oh damn. Kate felt an unwilling but undeniable flutter of pleasurable butterflies in her chest. Castle was really happier because of working with her? When was the last time that she had made anyone, aside from her dad, happier? Her work entailed that she saw people at the worst times of their lives; she wasn't in the business of making people happy. But Alexis thought she had made Castle happier. She felt a flush heat her cheeks and to try to cover for it, she hastily demurred, "I don't think that has much to do with me personally though, Alexis, but that's sweet of you to say."
"No, it's true, and it is about you, about the way you inspired Nikki Heat and, well, you haven't seen the way Dad can sulk when he's got writer's block but since he started working with you, he hasn't really had writer's block once. But it's not just about Nikki Heat; it's everything else too because he really does like it at the precinct. I can tell from the way he talks about it and the way he acts when you call about a case. So thank you."
Oh god, how could she possibly respond to that? She couldn't deny Alexis's thanks without sounding like some sort of Scrooge and she couldn't disbelieve Alexis's words. If anyone would know Castle and his moods, it would be Alexis. "Thanks for telling me, Alexis," she finally settled for saying and then added, although she made sure to pitch her voice low enough that Castle couldn't hear it, "Your dad can be silly but he's also been surprisingly helpful in solving cases so you don't need to thank me. He's made our team case closure numbers go up and that keeps the higher-ups happy with me so it's a good deal for me too," she added with some forced levity.
"Yeah, Dad always says he's brilliant," Alexis grinned.
Kate laughed. "He's really modest like that, isn't he," she quipped.
The girl let out a peal of laughter as she and Kate exchanged rather conspiratorial grins in a moment of shared humor.
"What's so funny, Alexis?" Castle called out. "Want to share with the rest of the class?"
"I was just telling Kate about the Great Deep-Fried Turkey Incident of 2008 and how you looked with your singed-off eyebrows," Alexis answered, dropping a quick wink at Kate.
Kate couldn't help a laugh. The Great Deep-Fried Turkey Incident? Such a Castle-like thing to do, to give dramatic names like that to things that happened. And Castle had singed off his eyebrows? They had obviously grown back, her mind suddenly flooded with images, memories of him waggling his brows at her, his brows quirking, his brows drawing together as he frowned in concentration over some evidence. (God, when had she become so familiar with his very eyebrows, of all things?)
"You aren't supposed to be spilling all my secrets, Alexis," Castle pretended to scold.
"Sorry, Dad, I forgot," Alexis answered entirely unrepentantly, giving him a cheeky smirk.
Castle huffed but was instantly distracted as Alexis and Kate returned to the table bearing dessert. "Ooh, goody, this is the best part of Thanksgiving!" he enthused with his usual childlike glee.
Kate hid a smile. He was ridiculous. And adorable. The word darted into her mind and she momentarily froze. No no no, absolutely not. She was not going to start thinking of Castle as being adorable in any way; he wasn't. Not a bit. She quite deliberately called to mind all his annoying wisecracks, his smirks, his vanity. There, that did it. He was not adorable. At all. Really.
She helped Alexis in serving everyone with their requested dessert, her dad opting for her apple pie (of course) and a tiny sliver of the pumpkin pie while Castle recklessly said he would have a slice of all three pies.
Kate watched her dad's expression. His eyes briefly closed and then he turned to give her a rather watery smile, his eyes suffused with emotion, as he reached out to squeeze her hand. "Oh, Katie-girl, it tastes just like your mom used to make it."
"Thanks, Dad," she said softly, her throat feeling tight as she was bombarded with memories of her mom bringing out the pie, one time when her mom had surprised her dad with her special apple pie—to celebrate her dad winning a big case, if she remembered correctly—and her dad tugging her mom down to sit on his lap and her mom's half-hearted protest had been lost in her laughter as she returned her dad's kiss…
Kate had forgotten that moment, she suddenly realized, but the memory returned in a rush as she watched her dad try the pie, saw the emotions flickering across his face.
It was suddenly too much, the emotions she could read in her dad's expression too much, too personal, and she had to quickly look away, her gaze snagging on Castle.
Castle, who had, she realized, seen everything but was studiously pretending utter obliviousness to the emotional undercurrents—and it was a pretense.
He put on a show of inspecting the slice of the apple pie on his plate before taking his first bite with all the drama of a judge on a cooking show and then made another show of chewing slowly as if to get a full feel of the flavor of the pie. He was practically smacking his lips before he widened his eyes at her in exaggerated surprise. "Why, Beckett, I had no idea you could cook."
Silly, ridiculous man. Silly, ridiculous, thoughtful man. She felt an emotion she couldn't name coiling in her chest, warming it. Oh, this man, making such a production out of trying the pie she'd made to provide a distraction, covering for her and her dad's emotions.
It was, for once, hard to manufacture a smirk. "The things you don't know about me could fill a book."
"I have no doubt about that, Beckett," he responded with utter seriousness, in one of those lightning-quick changes of tone that startled her.
"Katie doesn't often have the time to do so but she's actually quite a good cook," her dad spoke up, having apparently pulled himself together. "You should really try her lasagna sometime."
"Dad!" She forgot her more poignant emotions in embarrassment. How could her dad so blithely suggest that she cook for Castle? Introducing her dad to Castle was turning out to be a worse idea every minute.
"Maybe if I beg, grovel a little, and then ask really nicely," Castle quipped, his eyes dancing.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't bet on it, Castle."
He promptly put on an exaggerated pout. "Spoilsport." And Kate tried very hard not to notice the way his pout drew her attention to his mouth. (Nope, not noticing.)
"I'm impressed, Katherine," Martha spoke up, distracting Kate (thankfully). "You catch killers for a living and you cook too. Is there anything you can't do?"
Kate gave a little self-deprecating laugh. "I don't think I could ever be an actor like you are," she said lightly—and truthfully. She had a well-developed poker face and wasn't even good at showing her own emotions so projecting emotions of some role she was playing was miles outside of her comfort zone.
"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Katie," her dad chimed in. "Some of your performances in your old school plays were quite… memorable."
Kate felt a blush heat her cheeks as she knew quite well what her dad was referring to. The year she'd played a tree in the school play came to mind; her dad had never—and apparently would never—let her live it down. And if word got out about it, she might just have to shoot herself. "Dad!" she hissed, shooting her dad a look that promised dire retribution if he said another word about her childhood theatrical attempts.
Martha laughed. "Ah well, we can't all be actors."
"Luckily, we don't need to act to show our appreciation for this dessert," Castle spoke up. "Alexis, as always, your pumpkin pie is a masterpiece."
"I agree, the pumpkin pie is delicious," her dad said.
"Thank you." Alexis looked so guilelessly pleased that Kate couldn't help but smile at the girl. She was really amazingly polite. And the pumpkin pie she'd made was good, although Kate thought she actually preferred the chocolate pecan pie Castle had made. She would need to spend an extra hour—or two or ten—working out to make up for the indulgence but she decided it was worth it.
Her dad put down his fork and sat back. "Okay, now I'm really never going to eat again. It looks like you're going to be living on the leftovers from today for the next month."
"Oh, not really, Mr. Beckett," Alexis answered. "We'll keep some for ourselves but we take most of the leftovers over to the local soup kitchen. That's why we make so much food."
"Alexis likes to do it so I let her," Castle shrugged, with an expression of nonchalance.
Kate remembered what Castle had said, the look on his face, as he'd explained that he didn't want Alexis growing up as one of those spoiled rich kids. He was pretending, again, she thought, hiding behind feigned indifference.
Kate somehow sensed, felt, the fact that her dad carefully didn't look at her before he addressed Alexis. "That's nice. We used to do the same thing when… when we had Thanksgiving dinner at home," her dad finished and Kate inwardly flinched. When her mom had been alive was what he meant. "Katie's mom used to insist on it so it was a tradition of ours, every year from when Katie here was five or six or so."
"Really? I didn't realize. It's a tradition of ours too," Castle said and Kate felt his quick glance and tried not to flush or look in any way self-conscious. She could have mentioned their own tradition of going to a soup kitchen to Castle but she hadn't. The words, the admission, had formed in her mind but caught in her throat. She didn't share easily, certainly not her memories of her mom. "We started a few years back when Alexis was 8, I think, and have kept up with it ever since. I've even become friends with the director of the soup kitchen by now."
Kate felt, again, the little tug of… something she didn't care to identify at the realization that she and Castle had something in common, a shared tradition, which suddenly seemed such an intimate thing to share. And more, that somehow, Castle reminded her of her mom, which she never would have expected. When Castle had said what he had about reminding Alexis of how fortunate they were, he had sounded very much like her own mom. She remembered her mom saying something very similar to explain to the young Katie why they went to the soup kitchen on Thanksgiving.
Her mom would have liked Castle as a person, Kate thought for the first time, just as much as she had liked his writing. Just as her dad already did like Castle.
"When do you plan to leave for the soup kitchen, Rick?" her dad asked.
"Don't feel like you need to hurry to leave, Jim," Castle assured him quickly. "It's why we eat this dinner so early so we'll have plenty of time before needing to leave."
Jim smiled slightly. "That wasn't what I was worried about but thank you." He turned to Kate. "Katie, why don't you go with Rick and Alexis to the soup kitchen? It would be like old times with your mom. If that's all right with you, of course, Rick," he added.
Wait. What? Kate stared at her dad. "But I…"
But before she could go on, Alexis jumped in. "Oh, yes, you should come too, Detective Beckett. It'll be fun and they always need more volunteers to help out with the Thanksgiving crowd."
Put like that, if she refused, she'd look like a Scrooge, wouldn't she? Although she doubted that had been Alexis's intention. The girl's smile was too transparent, too guileless, to be anything other than sincere in her invitation.
"Well, I…" she hesitated.
"You're more than welcome, Beckett."
"You always used to enjoy going to the soup kitchen with your mom, don't you remember?" her dad added.
Kate narrowed her eyes a little at her dad. He returned her look with one of limpid innocence.
Kate inwardly grimaced and gave in to the inevitable. Not that she minded, on principle, volunteering at a soup kitchen or that she even disliked the idea of spending yet more time today with Castle and Alexis. What she didn't appreciate was being cornered like this. Mental note, strangle her dad the next time they were alone. "Why not," she agreed, mustering a smile more for Alexis's benefit than anyone else's. "I don't have anything else planned and I'd like to help," she added somewhat more graciously. "Dad, why don't you come too?"
"I'd love to, Katie," her dad answered smoothly, "but I promised Dave and Judy I'd stop by this evening."
"Oh, well, that's too bad. Say hi to Mr. and Mrs. Radecker for me," Kate smiled, momentarily forgetting her irritation with her dad. Dave and Judy Radecker were old family friends of her parents. Her dad had lost contact with many of them, including the Radeckers, after her mom's death and with his troubles but she was glad to know that her dad was reconnecting with the Radeckers. It had only been in the last couple years that he'd started to reach out to the old friends that he'd lost contact with and she knew how important it was to him.
"Great, that's settled, then," Castle said, sounding ridiculously pleased.
Kate felt a little flock of butterflies appear in her chest—god, his eyes were as deeply blue as the Hope Diamond—and hurriedly looked away from Castle, addressing Martha. "Martha, will you be coming with us?"
Martha waved a hand in one of her extravagant gestures. "That's kind of you, Katherine, but I've already made plans to meet with some old friends of mine."
Thank goodness for Alexis, Kate thought—and then told herself she was being silly. She didn't need to hide behind a teenage girl to avoid being alone with Castle. She was a cop, for god's sake! And there was nothing going on between her and Castle! They were just friends. Really.
So she told herself firmly and steadfastly refused to feel any tug of attraction to Castle. Her resolve lasted for the rest of the time at the loft as she helped Alexis and Castle wrap up the leftovers while her dad and Martha chatted (or more accurately, Martha recounted another dramatic story to the audience of one that was Jim Beckett). Then there was a little flurry of goodbyes as Martha sailed out of the loft, after dispensing scented hugs all around, followed shortly after by her dad, whose farewells were much calmer. Alexis seemed to surprise herself as much as Jim when she gave Jim a quick hug, although Jim returned the hug quickly enough.
Kate hugged her dad in turn. "Happy Thanksgiving, Dad."
"Happy Thanksgiving, Katie-girl." Her dad kissed her cheek. "This was fun today and your pie was delicious."
"Thanks, Dad."
Castle saw her dad to the door and they shook hands with Jim thanking Castle again for the invite and Castle demurring and then Kate slipped her arm around her dad as she accompanied him the rest of the way to the elevator.
"You were right that Alexis is a dear and I like your Castle," her dad volunteered.
"I could tell," Kate said rather dryly, giving him a look that said she hadn't forgotten the way he'd basically railroaded her into agreeing to go with Castle and Alexis to the soup kitchen. But she couldn't muster up any real annoyance at it anymore.
Her dad looked unrepentant as he met her eyes. "He cares about you, Katie."
Kate tried not to flush. "Castle and I are just friends, Dad."
"Mm hmm," her dad murmured agreement—but with a slight quirk of his eyebrows that expressed skepticism.
"We are," she reiterated definitely.
"I didn't disagree."
Kate gave him a look. He hadn't disagreed very loudly.
Predictably, her dad ignored her look and only went on, "Have a good time this evening. I think it'll be good for you to go with Rick and Alexis to the soup kitchen together. Places like that always need more help on holidays, you know."
She gave up. Her dad could suspect whatever he wanted; he would learn eventually. When Castle had done enough research for Nikki Heat and stopped shadowing her and she and Castle remained only friends who rarely saw each other, if ever. (She tried to ignore the fact that the thought was not a happy one.) "Yeah, Dad, I'm sure I will. We'll talk soon, okay?"
"Take care of yourself, Katie."
Her dad left and Kate returned to the now much quieter loft to fall in with helping Castle and Alexis pack up the rest of the leftovers—or trying to, since Castle persisted in saying she was a guest and therefore exempt from helping out.
But soon enough, all the food was packed up, in boxes and bags, and Castle had called a private car service to drive them the short distance over to the soup kitchen.
The soup kitchen—or more specifically, accompanying Castle to the soup kitchen—proved to be a revelation.
They were welcomed enthusiastically, if a little hurriedly, by the director of the soup kitchen, who Castle introduced as Charlie Sliwinski, and then almost immediately provided with aprons and set up at one of the long tables to help serve food, Kate serving the stuffing, Alexis the cranberry sauce, and Castle the turkey. And for the next couple hours, they were kept busy serving food to the steady stream of people coming by.
Kate felt a little awkward at first, unpracticed, since it had been years since she had accompanied her mom to a soup kitchen to help out and she was hardly used to serving food in something of an assembly line, but she found after a while that she was enjoying it. It was easy work and rewarding to see the way people were so transparently grateful, to see the smiles lighting up the faces of the children, in particular, and the way everyone responded so cheerfully to her Happy Thanksgiving wishes. It was so different from work, when she was always breaking the worst of news to people. Now, for these few hours though, she was part of making people smile and that was a nice feeling.
It was also relatively mindless, all of which allowed her to spend way too much of the next two hours observing Castle. And she couldn't seem to not watch him either, partly because he had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, the better to reveal his strong forearms to Kate's gaze (okay, so he hadn't done it for that reason but the effect was the same) and partly because all this showed her a new side of Castle that she hadn't seen.
She knew he was good with people. She had seen the way he worked the crowd at his book release party for Storm Fall and more recently for Heat Wave and she'd also seen the way he behaved at his book signing years ago. She knew how charming he could be and how cocky—oh yes, she knew Castle's flirtatious playboy persona very well.
But this—this was different.
The crowd at his book signings and book release parties were fans and at the parties, at least, many of them were wealthy, part of the glitterati of New York society, the social milieu in which Castle, too, belonged by virtue of his wealth and fame.
The crowd here was very different.
For one thing, it was relatively clear that even Charlie Sliwinski wasn't really aware of who Castle was, in the sense of being a celebrity and a multi-millionaire. Charlie probably knew that Castle was a writer but that was the extent of it, Kate guessed, judging from Charlie's demeanor in greeting Castle and what little he'd said in their brief conversation.
As for the people coming to the soup kitchen for their Thanksgiving dinners, even though it was fairly clear that many of them came here every year and were greeted familiarly, many even by name by Charlie and by Castle, it was plain that not a single one knew who Castle was. Unsurprisingly, of course, as leisure reading was a luxury that the very underprivileged could hardly afford, both in terms of time and money.
The crowd was different-and Castle himself was different, perhaps in response to it. Oh, Castle was still charming. (That, Kate suspected, was innate in him, a charm that went part and parcel with his smile and his eyes and his general good looks to make him as attractive as he was.) He still had a way with people that had quite a few people pausing and even holding up the line for food at certain times while they talked with Castle. And although Kate couldn't hear much of what was said, judging from their expressions and their demeanors, they were sharing stories of the last year and Castle was listening, listening with a genuine interest that seemed to invite confidences. (And maybe that was part of Castle's trick with people. Whatever else, he was genuinely interested in finding out more about people, part of his story-teller's mind that he always liked to learn people's stories. This part of Castle's character, at least, Kate was familiar with because it helped not infrequently with witnesses and other persons of interest in their cases.)
But it might have been the only thing about Castle's demeanor that she recognized.
This Castle was… unassuming, somehow, down-to-earth. This was not a man whom one could ever imagine being comfortable with public speaking or flirting with a roomful of twittering starlets as he signed their chests.
He still joked around, made people smile and laugh, but the humor was milder, just as this Castle was more subdued.
This Castle was… a nice man, a good guy. A stranger watching might guess that Castle was wealthy if they had the fashion nous to recognize the quality and expensiveness of Castle's clothing but even that observer wouldn't realize that Castle was also a celebrity, on first name terms with the Mayor and all.
Actors played to their audience, of course, and Kate was beginning to realize that Castle might have inherited more of Martha's acting ability than was generally known. She was beginning to think that Castle wasn't really the jackass playboy persona that he played so well and this new side of Castle could, of course, just be another role. But she couldn't help but remember a saying that one should judge a man by how he treated those who could do him no good whatsoever, the way a man treats those who are inferior to him in position. It was true. Just about everyone would treat their superiors, those who were useful to them in some way, nicely but the real test of character was how a person treated those who could not do them any good.
These people certainly qualified in that respect. Castle didn't need them. They weren't fans, whose opinions Castle rather did need to respect so they would keep buying his books; they weren't members of the media; they didn't have useful connections.
And Castle didn't need to do any of this. This wasn't a publicity stunt to bolster his image, the way some politicians and celebrities did. This was just Castle giving freely, generously, of his time and his labor and, yes, his charm too in order to help out, make these people's lives just a little bit brighter.
Kate glanced at Alexis beside her, who was smiling as she chatted easily and freely with a wizened old grandmother. She was suddenly reminded of how Alexis had put so much effort into restoring Anna Knolls's old family pictures to her, the understanding of how important such pictures would be. Showing a sense of empathy that was rare in most teenagers, who were usually so prone to thinking that the entire world revolved around them, and especially in teenagers from rich families.
A chip off the old block, Castle had called her. Kate had dismissed the words as Castle's typical ego and self-aggrandizement—and of course they were, in a sense—but she thought now that he hadn't been wrong either. Alexis was Castle's daughter—and whatever Castle's flaws, he had raised—was raising—a good kid.
Her eyes returned to Castle, seeing his familiar good-humored smile, untainted by any of the smugness she usually associated with him. He was still irritating, his silly theories, his hyperactiveness, his vanity, his tendency to wiseass quips—but he wasn't only that. She was beginning to think the jackass playboy she'd first met and that he still often acted like wasn't the true Rick Castle at all, any more than this subdued, blander version of Castle was his real self. No, the real Rick Castle was, she suspected, closer to the man she glimpsed whenever he was around Alexis, still given to silliness and joking around, but more tempered, more serious, like the man she occasionally saw in the rare occasions she talked to him about her mom.
The real Rick Castle was, whatever else, a good man.
As if he sensed her gaze or her thoughts, Castle turned his head and caught her watching him, their eyes meeting and holding for a second as an expression she couldn't read flitted across his face. She felt heat prickle in her cheeks and had to look away, turning to smile and greet a middle-aged woman as she gave the woman a helping of stuffing.
But if she'd thought that looking away from Castle would keep him out of her mind, she'd have been proven very wrong.
She couldn't decide if she was thankful or not when the stream of people coming in for dinner slowed to a trickle and Charlie came over to thank them and tell them that they were welcome to leave, that he and the other actual staff could take over from here. By now, even Alexis was drooping a little, so Castle didn't protest. Their goodbyes were brief, although Charlie's thanks were sincere, and it was only a few minutes before Kate, Alexis, and Castle were back in the luxurious town car Castle once again called up, giving Kate's address before she'd even had time to think of it.
"Oh, I could just take a cab," she protested rather lamely.
"Too late, Beckett. May as well just sit back and enjoy it."
She pretended to huff in mock annoyance. Grasping at normality. "Don't tell me what to do, Castle."
"So you're not going to enjoy the ride just to spite me?" he asked, his eyes dancing, a smirk tugging at his lips.
She bit her lip but knew her smile escaped in spite of that. "Shut up, Castle."
"Make me."
Oh, she could think of so many ways to shut him up, her eyes getting snagged by his mouth, the mouth she could silence with her own—stop it! That wasn't going to happen. She rolled her eyes instead. "What are you, a 5 year old?"
"I think he acts more like a 10 year old," Alexis interjected.
Kate grinned at Alexis as Castle bridled in mock offense. "Ungrateful child," Castle pretended to scold.
Alexis only shot him a cheeky grin. "I learned it from you, Dad."
"I am the soul of filial respect!" Castle declared with a commendably straight face.
"And who was it that referred to his own mother's boyfriend as her victim at dinner today?" Kate pretended to wonder aloud.
"Must have been my evil twin," Castle shot back without missing a beat.
"An evil twin, really, Castle?" Kate asked, pretending to click her tongue against her cheek in mock disappointment. "How prosaic of you. I was expecting pod people taking over your body or demonic possession, Castle," she quipped.
He laughed out loud and grinned at her and she tried to tamp down the ridiculous little bubble of pleasure inside her at making him laugh.
The momentary silence in the car was broken as Alexis yawned and Castle chuckled softly, patting Alexis's hand. "Tired, pumpkin?"
Alexis nodded. "Long day. A good one, though." She turned to smile at Kate. "Thanks for coming today, Detective."
"I had a good time and I thought I told you to call me Kate, Alexis," Kate returned Alexis's smile.
The girl gave a sheepish little smile. "Sorry, Kate."
The rest of the short ride back to her place was passed in silence. Alexis had pulled out her phone and was engrossed. Castle was quiet, for probably the first time in hours, his eyes resting on Alexis with one of those faint, tender smiles that mostly existed in his eyes, making them look very soft and very, very blue.
He looked up at her, meeting her eyes, and Kate abruptly forgot how to breathe, her lungs seeming to freeze in her chest. His eyes, his expression, were still so soft, not the same as when he looked at Alexis—of course not—but they were warm and steady and sincere and suddenly all she could hear in her mind was her dad's voice saying, he cares about you, Katie.
She cut her eyes away quickly, looking out the window and realized—thank god—that they were just reaching her block. She almost flung the car door open the second the car stopped and practically leaped out of the car—because it was late and she was tired and so was Alexis and she should leave them so they could go back to the loft that much quicker. That was all. Not because of… anything else.
She bent to look back into the car. "Have a good night, Alexis, Castle."
Alexis looked up from her phone to smile at her quickly. "Good night, Kate."
She straightened up and turned towards her apartment only to hear the car door open and then Castle was hurrying to join her on the sidewalk. "What, Castle?"
He gave her a look as if she'd asked what day it was. "I'm walking you to your door."
She rolled her eyes a little. "I'll be fine, Castle. I'm a cop, remember?"
"Doesn't matter, Beckett. My mother raised me so that whenever I accompany a woman home, I provide door to door service," he declared loftily.
She huffed a soft laugh and didn't bother protesting. Partly because she didn't feel like arguing with him and partly because she already knew it would be a waste of her breath. "Oh fine, if you insist."
He paused only to assure Alexis he'd only be a minute and then he was back at her side before she reached the door of her building.
"Thanks for the invitation, Castle. I had a good time."
"Thanks for coming." He paused and then added, "I liked your dad."
She smiled. "He had fun today."
"And now I really want to hear all about these memorable school plays that you were in when you were little, Beckett."
She couldn't help a soft laugh even as she flushed. "Not going to happen, Castle. I've sworn my dad to secrecy." Or she would, the next time she talked to her dad.
He gave an exaggerated pout. "Please, Beckett? You've heard lots of my mother's stories about the theatre and Alexis already told you about the time I tried to deep-fry a turkey; surely you can't deny me just one little story about your thespian past?"
"I surely can," she shot back rather tartly.
He huffed. "Mean, Beckett. And after I spent an entire day slaving away to cook for you too."
"Nope, still not telling."
She bit her lip to hold back her smile as he gave her a pleading puppy-dog look that was so ridiculously over-the-top it was comical. It really was such fun to tease him.
He heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Oh fine, be that way. Cruel woman."
They had reached her door and she turned to face him. "I really did have a good time today," she said again, rather inanely.
"So did I. I'm glad you came," he said quietly, his expression entirely serious, sincere now. It still threw her off a little when he looked at her like this, when he was so serious, not the silly joking man-child she was so used to seeing in the precinct.
"Well, have a good night, Beckett."
"Hey, Castle?" she blurted out, the words leaving her lips of their own volition before she'd even realized she was going to speak. She just knew she suddenly didn't want this evening to end just like that.
"Yeah?"
"I—I just…" She just—what? She looked at him, seeing his faintly curious expression, the question in his so blue eyes. He cares about you, Katie. And he'd looked so happy that she'd liked his stuffing and he was thankful to be spending time with her and even his daughter said that he was happier because of following her at work and he'd been so kind to all the people at the soup kitchen and he really wasn't the jackass he pretended to be… Thoughts, memories, emotions from today were swirling around in her mind in a confusing mess. She needed to say something.
"There's another thing I'm thankful for that I didn't mention earlier."
The faintest smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "What else are you thankful for?"
You. No, no, that was too much, sounded too personal. "These past months, working with you…" she began instead. "I—I guess you could say I've gotten used to you pulling my pigtails."
His eyes crinkled a little at the corners as his smile deepened.
She reminded herself to breathe. "I have a hard job, Castle, and having you around makes it a little bit more fun." As amazed as she was for admitting it, for even thinking it, it was true. He irritated her, yes, but he also made her laugh. And laughter was something that had been in short supply in her life for too long. "So I guess, what I mean is, thank you."
Before she could think about it, she gave in, just once, to the pull he seemed to have been exerting on her all day long (and before today, if she had to admit it) and stepped in closer, her one hand rising to lightly grasp the lapel of his jacket. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her face, feel the faint species of tension, of uncertainty, that gripped him. Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned in and brushed her lips against his cheek.
She could feel the warmth of his hand resting lightly on her back, not quite holding her but not quite not. She drew back slowly, conscious of a dragging reluctance. He was so warm and solid and strong and…
And dangerous. It was too much, this thing between them too strong.
She forced herself to step away and his hand dropped away from her back. She told herself she was imagining the sudden loss of warmth even through her coat.
His eyes blinked open, wide with surprise and something softer than that. "I'm thankful for you too, Beckett."
He'd obliquely said as much in saying he was thankful to the Mayor but hearing the words still did something to her. He was thankful for her. As annoyed as she was—had been—at the way he had weaseled his way into her work and her life and her feeli—no, her thoughts, not… anything else—she couldn't feel annoyed at it anymore. Because he was thankful to be shadowing her. And the sentiment entirely belied his annoying cockiness and she knew, now, that he wasn't really the smug jackass he acted like.
And this man, who had made her work—her life—more fun (even if she hadn't been willing to admit it until very recently), was thankful for her—and for the first time, it occurred to her to wonder why. She hadn't really done anything for Castle, not really. And yet, somehow, he could say he was thankful to know her, to have her in his life.
She forced a small smile. "Alexis will be waiting. Night, Castle."
"See you Monday."
Kate escaped inside her apartment and sank back against the door. Her cheeks still felt uncomfortably hot, her heart beating a little too fast. And she swore she could still feel the warmth of Castle's skin against her lips like a phantom touch.
Ridiculous, irrational.
She forcibly controlled her breathing. This wasn't like her; she didn't do this. She couldn't do this.
She and Castle were friends. Nothing more.
He was in her life for now, playing at being a cop, and if he had made her work a little more fun, a little easier, well, that was an unlooked-for benefit. But it wasn't forever. He would leave, finish his research and go back to his comfortable life as a multimillionaire.
He cares about you, Katie…
Maybe he did—for now, only for now.
She and Castle were friends. That was all and that was enough.
That had to be enough.
~The End~
A/N 2: I felt I had to end it this way, with Caskett just taking a small step forward.
But a sequel is in the works so please don't kill me! *runs and hides*