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A one time thing

Chapter Two - What's in a name?

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If it only takes a moment for your life to change forever, can a 'one time thing' right the wrong? An AU Caskett meeting.

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Kate's hand slides across the fitted sheet and under the pillow as she buries her head further into it. Although, unfortunately, its softness doesn't help block out the thud inside her head, the constant noise of her own heart beating. This is why she doesn't drink to excess - the aftermath that descended overnight leaves her defenses weakened.

Last night.

Jerking upright, she squints; her head thrashing left, then right in confusion, a hand lifting to smother the groan of misery as the thud becomes an almighty chorus band.

Tequila. Lots of tequila.

She holds her liquor well, but somehow curled up in the booth, one drink turned into… a lot more than one. Necks were abandoned for chests, and, rather than place the slices between their teeth, at some point it simply made more sense to suck the juice so the other person could drink it straight from their lips. It was amazingly enjoyable to savor the tang when it was sampled off his tongue.

Rick.

Twisting in the bed, Kate stares down at the naked man sprawled face first, fast asleep. Swallowing hard, she resists the urge to drift a hand over his perfectly formed ass, ignores the shiver breaking across her skin, the throb that has her forcing her aching thighs together. Instead, pulling her gaze away, she takes in the oddly expensive hotel room where she's spent the night.

One night - one night that is over.

Dropping both feet to the floor, she stands, wobbles, and sinks back to the mattress. It's going to be a slow exit out of here if she can't get her legs to work. Not that they'd been much use to her last night either.

Together they'd stumbled and tripped over each other, arm in arm along the street, fleeting caresses morphing into frantic kisses.

Standing again, this time successfully, she manages three whole steps before there's a rustle of sheets behind her, and she freezes in place, closing her eyes.

Stay asleep. He just needs to stay asleep long enough for her to leave.

"I'm guessing round four isn't about to happen?"

Squeezing her eyelids tighter, she pushes aside the reminder of rounds one, two, and three - the way he'd held her in the parking lot, his mouth firm against her own, their tongues fighting for dominance as their hands had pushed past social boundaries and become indecent.

Pivoting on the balls of her feet, she scurries back to the bed, snatching the closet pillow to use as a shield. It's a rather futile attempt to hide her severe lack of clothing but it's all she has. Round one may have been against the hotel door, hard and fast as the city lights streamed in through the partially opened curtains; hard and fast and- Fuck.

He'd used the strength in his arms to easily hold her high, his fingers curled into the skin of her rear, and it was everything that she had envisioned while admiring him inside the club. Her legs had wrapped tightly around his hips, while her fingers darted down his body, past the shirt that remained buttoned, hiding precious skin she was dying to get her hands on. As she'd reached his jeans, her damp underwear slid against the skin of her hands, and she'd moaned, loudly, almost finishing before they'd even begun. Finally though – frantically – they'd managed to get skin against skin, coming together in a frenzy of misplaced kisses and grunts that had echoed throughout the entrance way.

All that and they'd still remain completely dressed.

The rest of the night had been spent in the dark, against the bedroom wall – slower yet just as earth shattering - before they'd fallen into bed for one last exploration of skin over skin, and she blushes. They'd managed to lose all their clothes by the time they'd finished, falling asleep in an exhausted tangle of sweat slickened limbs.

"I…" How did one politely inquire about her clothing, while also making a graceful exit?

"That was amazing," he breathes, rising so he can sit, eyes wide. Surprise is written all over his face and she lifts an eyebrow. Was she supposed to be something other than good?

Drawing her already bruised lip into her mouth, she takes a step backward - she cannot act on what every insane part of her is pleading to do. She will not throw the pillow aside, will not climb back into bed, will not use her teeth and her tongue to wipe that bewildered expression off his face.

Today is a new day and she should already be on her way to work.

"I need to go."

"What?"

Bending, she snatches her panties off the floor with her free hand, refusing to let go of the pillow as she looks around for her dress, the very picture of inelegance.

"I have to get to work."

Rick lets her back away. It's not like this was ever going to be anything more than one night. His keening want takes him by surprise though. Not the physical want – after last night it's no surprise that he never wants to leave this hotel room again, as long as she's here with him – but the want for her number – that shocks him. He wants her number, wants to ask her to stay. Ask for anything that will have her stopping what she is doing.

There's so much skin glistening in the morning light, and he bunches his hand in the sheets, a fist forming. He will not reach out for her, will not drag her back into bed so he can bury himself in the sentience that she has become. Last night he had felt... alive. His skin had stirred under her touch, his heart had hammered as it awoke for the first time in so many years.

He'd slipped his hands between the silk of her dress and her thigh, and he'd slowly made his way higher and higher until he was cupping her rear over the lace of her panties. Panties that were getting in the way... he'd shifted so that he was touching her and...

But he doesn't need this in his life. Doesn't need a reason to care. And she's not the only one who is supposed to be on their way to work.

But as she bends again, pulling her dress into her arms, the image before him becomes too consuming and his eyes shut as he swallows the words fighting to escape between his firmly closed lips.

Stay.

There are still an infinite number of nuances he has yet to discover. The places on her skin that are more sensitive than others. Where is the best place to run his tongue along to guarantee a shudder courses through her body? How hard can he bite before pleasure becomes pain? And would she care if he crossed that line?

Don't leave.

His eyes snap open, concern creasing his forehead. The words echo so clearly in his head – did he speak them aloud? If he did, she's ignoring them.

Backing into the connecting bathroom, the only thing she pays attention to is the material of her dress, the blue flashing as it captures the sunlight streaming in through the window. It's like sparkling water cascading down an embankment. Just like her. Slipping away.

Pushing back the sheet, he goes in search for his own clothes. He doesn't need to witness her departure. Needs to let her go before he does something stupid. Before he starts to care. Again.

The elevator doors open, exposing the bullpen and its too many inhabitants. The hands on the clock sailed past eight while she was still in the cab, and despite Kate's steady glare at her father's watch, time continued to rush by.

She's late which means showing up to work in a cocktail dress and jacket. Regardless of how much she pulls the two lapels together there's no way of being subtle. But, all she needs to do is scurry across to the stairs, and up another flight to the lockers where her spare outfit resides, and she'll be able to place her detective mask on. Push aside Kate, push aside last night. Easy.

She manages to get a third of the way to safety when a low whistle slides across the room, and her hurried rhythm falters.

"Well, well. Is there a new dress code? Or are you doing a walk of shame?" A teasing intonation threads its way through Esposito's questions and her eyes roll. Pivoting, she stands tall, stares down her nose at him, but he doesn't react. He holds her eye contact even as the bustle around them increases. They're at an impasse - one she will not break no matter how many second glances her outfit is earning her.

He caves first - as if he had any other option - and laughing, his head nods toward Montgomery's office.

"He's already in. And on the warpath. Your new partner's not here yet, and Montgomery thinks you've run him off already."

Her eyes roll once more, this time in exasperation. There is no reason that she requires a partner. She's never needed one before. But she's had that argument with her captain - numerous times - all for naught.

"I'm going. Cover me."

Making her way across the rest of the distance, she climbs the stairs as quickly as one can while in a short dress and heels. The whole process not helped by her panties, which remain damp from last night, and she curses Rick. Curses herself. Even with the shower she had in haste this morning, he still clings to her lips, to her skin, to her clothes; no opportunity to go home to change first means she is paying the price.

She was supposed to be able to leave him and everything that was last night at the hotel door - now every step is a smack to her senses. Every rub of her thighs is a reminder of what he did to her, just how far he had brought her to the edge and beyond, all while still fully clothed.

Throwing open the locker room's door, she's already peeling away the evidence. Balling the blue material in her hands, she discards it next to her disintegrating sneakers. It can lay there forgotten, along with her panties. Along with him.

It's a new day.

Shrugging on the white collared shirt, the tailored tan suit, she breathes in slowly, attempts to regulate the beat of her heart as it continues to pick up its pace - because of him.

Relax. Let him go.

As she steps over to the mirror to fix her hair - a comb through will have to do - she glares at the image. The professional woman staring back at her hides the tremor of uncertainty, the doubt that the new day has brought to her actions.

She should never have gone out drinking, no matter how bad the week had been. She'd allowed the circumstances to pile up on her. She'd mourned her own loss of human contact as Lanie embraced Javier after their escape from the freezer. She'd listened as Jenny had called Kevin, over and over, just to ensure he was okay, to remind him he had someone to keep fighting for. His fiancée's intentions had worked after all; Ryan's declaration in front of the bomb as he pulled out the bundle of wires, was proof enough. "I won't stop fighting for our beginning."

Turning away from her image, she charges head first toward her day. She's never needed anyone before - and nothing has changed.

Straightening his leather jacket, he stands tall within the elevator while contracting the muscles in his right hand to stop the tapping before it can occur. He's not nervous. He's started in enough new places for that to be well and truly stamped out of his system. But he is running late - having had to wait for the shower - and this is not exactly the first impression he should be making.

"You new?"

Eyeing the man next to him, Rick nods, before returning to stare at the closed doors.

"Well considering the floor you're heading for, I'll wish you luck."

Turning again, Rick raises an eyebrow. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

"Word going around is that someone was due to start today. And lets just say you might not find any open arms of welcome."

Shit. Nothing like a pissing match over territory to start the day. Of course, his day started with Kate, so maybe nothing was going to top that.

"Thanks for the heads up."

The doors retract as the ding alerts the floor to their arrival and Rick follows the man out. He gives him cover to assess his new environment, to rapidly take in the action around him as he walks along the corridor. He's sure as hell not stopping to ask for directions. He can find-

Oh.

Shit.

Taking the papers from Ryan's hand - because really how hard is it to use a stapler? - Kate shakes her head, her lips turning up in a smirk.

"But I tried that and it wouldn't work." He huffs from her left and angling her head, she pushes the pieces of metal together – succeeding on the first go.

"Really? I can see how that could be difficul-"

"Beckett?"

The arrival of the elevator draws her attention automatically, a quick scan that became habit long ago, but it's not the opening doors that have her ending her sentence mid-word.

It's the hair that she had gripped as he held her high against the wall, his mouth latched onto her neck.

It's the broad shoulders that have her nail marks imprinted into his skin, as she'd encouraged his head to travel lower.

It's the blue in his eyes that had looked at her this morning; and for a fraction of a moment they had pleaded with her not to leave.

He strolls down the corridor like he belongs, an easy stride and she tries to swallow the fury that rises in her throat. He's somehow tracked her down. Most likely went through her purse while she was in the shower, and now he's showed up here to – what?

But, as his mouth drops open, eyes wide, he alters his path, begins to head toward her and doubt coats her anger. He seems confused. Seems just as surprised as she is.

"Kate?"

"Rick?"

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Thank you to Jo for reading a hundred times and for all the red! and Jamie for the flails and the help last night! xoxo

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Thank you to those that followed, pressed favourite and most certainly to all that reviewed xoxo

And thank you for reading!

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