Chapter 2
Standing outside the door of Castle's apartment, Kate smoothed down her hair and adjusted the bags over her shoulder before sharply tapping her knuckles against the door. She had arrived promptly for their lunch on that post-holiday Friday, which was impressive considering how clogged the subways and buses were with Black Friday shoppers. Thankfully she had purchased her host's gift on Wednesday evening and thus avoided most of the shoppers.
"Kate! Welcome!" Castle greeted her enthusiastically when he opened the door of his apartment. She stepped inside before pulling the small white tote bag off her arm and holding it out to him.
"Here. A bottle of wine as a thank you for inviting me."
"Oh." He gazed down at the bag a moment before taking it from her hand and shaking his head. "You didn't have to do that."
She merely shrugged. "It's no big deal."
"Well, thank you anyway. You're just in time—I'm nearly done heating everything up."
When her partner walked off, Kate remained by the entryway, pulling off her winter gear. After leaving her boots by the door and hanging her coat and scarf in the closet, she stepped further into the cozy yet slightly cramped space and let out an exhale. For some reason, Castle's home had always felt very welcoming to her. Normally, when she visited her friend's residences she felt very stiff and on alert, not wanting to appear rude or over-comfortable, but she had never once felt that way in Castle's home. She knew that was in part simply because of Castle's relaxed, casual personality—and the fact that his place was cluttered with both his and Alexis's things and appeared well lived in rather than stoic or formal. Perhaps it also had to do with the man himself, who never treated her as a guest as much as one of them. She on occasion thought her level of comfort in his place should bother her, but it never did; she was just glad to have another place to unwind.
As she drifted further into the space, Kate caught sight of the stack of his own books that Castle kept on the coffee table for "conversation pieces" (his exact words), and gave a gentle shake of her head, as she always did. When Kate first read one of his books during college, it had never once crossed her mind that she might once meet the man who authored one of her favorite tales—let alone work with him. Given his affinity for jokes and general tomfoolery, it was sometimes hard to believe that the writer Richard Castle and her partner were one in the same. Still, she was glad to know him, even if she was slightly disappointed she might not read one of his books ever again.
"Kate! You're here!" Alexis cheered when caught sight of the elder woman. She ran from the table to give Kate a strong hug around the waist, which Kate gladly reciprocated.
"How was your Thanksgiving?"
"Good! We ate a lot!"
Kate chucked. "I'm sure you did."
"Did you arrest any bad guys yesterday?"
"Nope—not one."
Alexis nodded. "That's good."
"Alexis, can you grab the loaf of bread and bring it to the table please?"
When Castle interrupted their conversation, Kate turned to see if she could offer any help but saw there was no need; the table was already filled with bowls and plates of reheated leftovers. "Wha…I thought we were having sandwiches. What's all this?"
He smiled as he brought over the final item: a bowl of gravy. He then took the loaf of bread from Alexis and gestured towards one of the empty seats. "Come and sit. And these are leftover sandwiches, so of course you have to have all the leftovers in them."
"I guess…" she said somewhat distantly, marveling at the mashed potatoes and stuffing. Who would put both of those in a sandwich? Who would put one of those in a sandwich!?
"Hope you're hungry Kate," Alexis told her as she climbed up in her chair.
"Well, I did only have coffee and a banana this morning but…I don't know if I'm this hungry," Kate pointed out.
"Choose your own destiny, Kate. Build the sandwich as big or as little as you want," Castle pointed out. "Personally, I'd start with the bread then layer the potatoes, stuffing, cranberries, and turkey in that order. Then you top with a dab or two of gravy, the other slice of bread and voila! Thanksgiving in a sandwich."
Kate merely shook her head at her partner's extreme enthusiasm. When they first began working together, Castle's exuberance towards everything—dead bodies included—had been equally off-putting and confusing. As soon as she found out that both his mother and ex-wife were actresses, however, the puzzle pieces began to slowly fit together. Now, nearly a year into their working relationship, she knew Castle's flair for drama was simply part of his personality.
After watching the father-daughter duo build their own sandwiches, Kate did her best to follow suit, strange as the action was. She spread a thin layer of mashed potatoes over her bread slice as though it was mayonnaise, then added a spoonful of stuffing, which she mushed with the back of a spoon until it was flat. She did the same with the gelled cranberries and then topped the pile with two slices of roast turkey. The only thing she did differently was spoon some gravy on to her plate to use for dipping since she feared putting it atop the turkey might cause a structural collapse of the top layer of bread.
When it was completed, the sandwich looked like an absolute mess. She honestly wasn't even sure how to take her first bite, but once she committed she realized that the Castles were on to something; the sandwich was quite delicious.
"Good right?" Castle mumble in between sizable bites of his overstuffed sandwich.
"Very. And here I thought all you could do with leftovers was heat them up."
He scoffed. "There are infinite numbers of things to do with leftovers, Beckett. Though, personally, I think Thanksgiving leftovers make the best sandwiches. Right, Pumpkin?"
Alexis nodded then scrunched her nose. "That Easter sandwich was weird!"
Kate couldn't help but laugh. "I don't think there's anything wrong with keeping this a Thanksgiving tradition."
Castle nodded. "Agreed. So, does that mean you'll be joining us again next year?"
Having no intentions of planning her meals out that far, Kate merely said, "I guess we'll have to see," before taking another bite of her sandwich.
After washing up the last of the lunch dishes, Castle wandered into the main sitting area where Kate stood in front of one of his bookshelves, all of which were overflowing with titles. She stood facing away from him, but from the angle of her body he could just barely see the outline of her jaw and lips and the shell of her ear peeking out from beneath her hair, which she'd cropped short at the end of summer and was now just beginning to develop wisps of curls at the ends as it grew out. He watched her for a moment as she seemed rather enthralled by the book titles she read, which he didn't think was possible given that she'd been to his home many times and seen them all before. Still, he liked observing her this way—quiet and unaware.
She turned a second later, breaking the moment, and they shared a soft smile. "You can sit down, you know," he said, gesturing towards the cozy couches two feet away.
She grumbled and placed her hands on her belly. "No, I can't; my stomach might explode."
He chuckled. "Fair enough."
"Actually, I was just looking at these again," she said, pointing to his seven published works. She reached out and stroked her fingers down the spine of Flowers for Your Grave, and then asked, "You think you'll ever write another one?"
Not sure how to answer her question, Castle let out a long exhale and stared at the books, which brought him both pride and frustration.
Ever since he was a child Castle knew he wanted to write for a living—he just knew it. Growing up without a father and with a mother who loved him, but had a career that didn't afford her an excess of time to spend with him. He began writing early on as both a means of expressing himself and working through some of the feelings and struggles he had. Not only was it cathartic, but exciting. He could lose himself in a good story of his own creation, not just one he was reading.
Though he was never the best at school work (mostly due to a lack of effort and concentration than lack of intelligence), he did everything he could to improve his writing and get it to a publishable level. When he thought he'd reached that point during his first year of college, he was faced with and endless stream of rejections from publishers, which, while frustrating, only drove him more aggressively towards self-improvement. Finally, Black Pawn picked up his first novel and gave him a contract for another, which was a completely thrilling prospect.
For six years Castle wrote book after book, each of them hitting the best sellers list. In that time, he'd met Meredith and, though it hadn't been intentional, they had Alexis, and for that brief period of time his life seemed idyllic. Then, Derrick Storm's second adventure was panned by critics and he found himself faced with a crushing amount of writer's block. He took a break from Storm and struggled his way through another independent book, which was published, but equally disliked. Black Pawn suspended his contract until he produced a manuscript they liked, which to that point had not yet happened.
Castle floundered for several months, not sure what to do with his life since he'd failed at writing. Just as he was about to start applying for retail jobs, an old friend and PI contacted him out of the blue to ask a question about a case and the wheels of his brain began turning. A private investigator thrived on observation and research, both of which he was excellent at. So, he'd asked the PI if he could shadow some of his cases and then began branching out on his own and, through sheer luck, become involved with the NYPD.
As for Kate's question, Castle definitely did not want to shut the door on his writing career. He felt it too strongly correlated with his sense of self to do that, but at the same time he hadn't written anything of substance in well over a year. True, he dabbled now and then but the results were more frustrating than anything else. Though he felt the random scenes he crafted were interesting and well-done, fitting them into a larger story seemed nearly impossible in his unfocused mind. Most recently, he'd been writing about a female detective named Nikki Heat, inspired by his NYPD partner. He loved Nikki as a character, but every time he really tried to commit and dig into her story, he found something missing and had yet to put his finger on what.
After being silent far too long, Castle turned to Kate and said, "Maybe. Some day."
"Well, for what it's worth: I hope you do." She walked over and gave his bicep a solid squeeze before drifting towards the entryway and sighing out, "Well I guess I should get going…"
"Really?" he asked as he followed after her. "You don't have to. I mean, don't feel like I'm throwing you out or anything. We could hang out, maybe play a board game…"
"A board game, huh?"
"Yeah." He smiled in return of her upturned lip. "I bet Alexis'll even let you choose which one we play."
"Well…" She hesitated and Castle held his breath.
Almost every time Kate had joined them as of late—which, actually, now that he thought about it, was increasing with frequency, not that he had one complaint about that—he tried to convince her to stay longer. He hoped that she would pick up on his subtly and realize just how much he liked to spend time with her outside of work. Since she generally agreed to stay with him, he suspected she enjoyed their time together, too. She didn't always choose to extend her visits, but that didn't stop him from hoping—and asking.
"I, um, I guess my laundry can wait until later," she said finally.
Trying to hold back his enthusiasm, Castle said, "Well, yeah—who needs clean clothes anyway?"
She let out a breathy laugh. "Right…"
"Let me make sure there aren't any crumbs left on the table and you go get Alexis and pick the game, okay?"
She nodded. "Okay."
When she walked off towards Alexis's bedroom, Castle clapped his hands together with excitement. An afternoon playing games with Kate and Alexis—what was better than that?