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A one time thing
Chapter Thirteen - Something
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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 sheets, draws them closer to her body, her head turning to bury deeper into the pillows. The bandage at her throat tugs, pulls at her skin as she attempts to move freely but can't, and suddenly everything comes into focus.
Yesterday - the knife at her neck, being sent home, Castle arriving.
Rolling over in her bed, a vast space greets her, flat plains instead of Rick, and dragging herself higher onto the pillows, she glances around the room. They both had their sleep interrupted when past memories collided with current events, but she's surprised that he had managed to leave at some point this morning without waking her.
She pushes herself into a sitting position and stretches, both hands extending high in the air, before standing and padding out into the kitchen. And there, in the center of the counter is her coffee cup, beside it her French Press - a scoop of coffee grounds already in it - and a little jug of creamer.
Impressive.
Boiling the water, she smiles at the sentiment. Over the last few weeks, it has become a thing between them - Castle bringing a coffee for her each morning. It started because of how horrible the precinct's percolated tar is, but it's somehow evolved into something so much more.
Almost a reflection of them.
Her fingers trace around the rim of her red and white striped porcelain mug as she waits for the water to boil. Rick's obviously done this in an attempt to start her day off in the best way, even if he's already at work. He would have had to search, too - the French Press was hidden away in an obscure cupboard. And she didn't even think she had any coffee.
But there beside her stovetop is an unfamiliar bag of beans. Her heart kicks hard at that. That he went searching, would have had to run down to the corner store or have them delivered, all just to ensure that the first thing she did upon waking was smile.
It's then that the piece of paper under the mug catches her attention, and reaching to free it, she brings it to her chest. There's a weight to it, not the paper itself but the words that are on it. Even without looking she can feel the moment, the hitch in her breathing, the tightening of her muscles as she reacts to what he could have written before leaving for the day.
In the shadows of last night he had mapped her body, whispered words too quietly for her to hear, worshipped her gently, and, as she shattered under his touch, the broken pieces of each of them somehow found their way back together.
Maybe it is possible for the two same halves to fit together. Yin and yin.
Sinking into the sofa, she bends her knees, bringing them to her chest. Her fingers ghost across the smooth surface, before she opens the folded piece of the paper and like a flower revealing its hidden secrets on the first day of spring, Rick's words appear between her trembling fingers.
I can be your yang when you need to be yin.
But I can't be nothing, when I'm starting to feel something.
Her thumb traces over the Taijitu symbol he's drawn at the bottom of the page, while her gaze travels over the two lines again and again. It's not until she reads for the fifth time that she realizes the meaning of the second sentence. Before everything had gone to hell with the prison break she'd told the boys that it was nothing. That where she had spent the night - in Rick's arms - was nothing, and her head drops to the V of her knees.
She'd been so focused on getting changed, getting back into detective mode after breakfast with Rick, that she hadn't been aware of what she was implying. His display of odd behavior, the unexpected cold shoulder, all makes horrible sense.
He'd taken her words at face value, had jumped to the wrong conclusions, and as she examines the paper once more, she starts to form a plan. He'd used his words, taken a risk and put his heart on the line by leaving her this note, and for the first time she has to step up rather than step away.
Standing again, she pours the boiling water into the French Press with unsteady hands. She'll find a way to show him that he's not the only one who is starting to feel something.
Dropping the bag of take-out onto Esposito's desk, Beckett waits for his reaction. Sure enough, his head jerks up, surprised eyes making contact with hers, and she smirks at his expression.
"What are you doing here?"
She shrugs her shoulder, and walking around him, she deposits Ryan's onto his desk.
"It's after lunch."
"It's eleven."
Glaring, she heads toward her own area and Castle's - she's never noticed before but the two desks facing each other create the perfect square - where she puts down the rest of the bags, ensuring that the flat, heavy box sits front and center on top of his space.
"Yes and once you eat your lunch, it will be 'after lunch', so- eat."
Espo gives her a snort of amusement at that, and leaning against Castle's chair, she glances across the semi-quiet bullpen.
"He's in tech." Apparently forgetting all manners, Esposito speaks around the mouthful of Chinese, and her face twists as she witnesses the chewing process.
"Who is?"
"Your partner."
Nodding her thanks, she pushes off from the chair to walk over to where the computer equipment is set up. He's there, eyes focused on the screen and through the horizontal lines of the blind, she pauses, lets herself enjoy the increase in her heartbeat, the smile that is begging for release.
There's an intensity as she looks at him with new eyes, an electricity that flows across her skin, raising the hairs on her arms. It's always been inside, smothered deep down as denial covered the sensation, but now - she basks in it all. All of him. All the possibilities.
Rapping on the edge of the wall, she enters without waiting for him to reply, and she's glad she did. The joy that lights his face, the way his eyes widen as he glances up and down quickly, the flash of teeth as he smiles, makes her morning all the more wonderful.
Damn, she's sappy today.
"Hey, I like the scarf." His finger twirls twice in her direction, pointing to the deep royal blue silk she'd added to her neckline while getting ready for work, and she lifts a shoulder.
"It's the first week of May. I could hardly wear a turtle neck."
Stepping toward her, he drifts his fingers over the material and she holds still, fights to keep her eyelids open under his touch. Memories of last night bring the blood within her veins to an almighty accelerando, every part of her jumping, vibrating, from being so close to him and it gives her the courage she needs to start.
"I got your note."
His head dips, and staring at his fingers, he appears unable, or unwilling to react to her words and it leaves her with little choice but to go on.
Step up, not step back.
"I'm your partner-"
"I got it. Don't worry." Cutting across her sentence, he turns as he speaks, and heading back over to the desk, he slumps onto its edge.
Doubt flares deep in her stomach, creating a roll of nausea, a wave that has her grasping for the nearest surface. She needs something to hold her up or the tremors in her soul will travel to her legs and she will fall in a heap.
Did she get this all wrong?
"Castle?"
"I said don't worry about it."
But she is, because his words are now etched permanently on her heart, and they had made her brave, and this can't be how their story finishes – without even starting.
"I thought… Don't you want something?" As she says each word, her newfound strength wavers until her voice is barely a whisper and her eyes close in defeat. This morning had held such promise, and now - it's all dissolving before her and she can't work out why.
"It doesn't matter what I want. We can be partners. It's fine."
Her eyes snap wide as his brush off hits hard, but she has an explanation at least - he's misunderstood her again, and it returns the fire in her belly, the passion to her resolve.
Standing tall, she stalks across the room until she is in front of him and giving him no choice but to look at her or turn away, she places her heart on the line.
"I'm your partner. And I don't want to lose that. I won't because I like working with you. And we make one hell of a team." Lifting her hands, she tucks the loose strands of hair behind her ears, her head dipping under the weight. She's no good at this part, finding the words to explain the tangled mess that is her.
"But, I feel it too, Rick, the something we can be. And I don't know where that leaves us."
His fingers slide along her jaw, cup the angle of her cheek, and the tenderness in his touch leaves her listing toward him.
Bringing a hand up, she drifts her fingers across his, until, settling into the grooves between his knuckles, she covers him as best she can. This is the reason she is willing to walk the fine line between partners and lovers, because under his touch she feels anchored to the ground while soaring alongside the clouds.
"This is the first time I've felt like I could belong in a precinct. Espo and Ryan, for all the jokes and hazing, they're…" His throat constricts, his muscles pulling tight as he swallows and her stare remains transfixed on the movement, unable to elevate and connect with his eyes.
Stepping up can only go so far, and this is far more than she'd ever expected their conversation to contain.
"Whether we are trading theories, or simply sharing a meal, Kate, I feel alive. I feel like- this is as close to home as I've been in a long time."
Silence stretches, their thumbs ghosting across each other's while resting on her cheek, as the electricity builds until she is sure the lights will begin flickering in anticipation.
Pushing her tongue out, she runs it along her bottom lip, the sudden parchment of her mouth drying any response. There are words that would explain what is coursing through her, she just doesn't have them, has never been about the words. She's always let her actions speak for her.
The noise of the handle turning as the door opens has them both jumping apart, and moving as one, they look toward Esposito as he enters.
Right. They're in the precinct.
Esposito's stare slowly travels between them, no doubt taking note of the guilty expression she is positive lines not only her face, but Castle's as well, and she straightens under the scrutiny, hardens her features.
It almost becomes a dare - who will break first?
"Montgomery wants to see you, Beckett." Holding eye contact for longer than necessary, Espo backs out of the room, leaving the door open, and she angles her head, her forehead furrowed as she hesitantly takes in Castle.
He's nodding to himself, to an internal dialogue she can't hear, and at the risk of blowing all their progress out of the water, she has to ask. "Are we… okay?"
Smiling, his cheeks push high as he beams at her, his delight at - Them? The situation? Their ability to 'kind of' talk? - lights up the room, removing all shadows, and she returns the action automatically.
"We're good. I think we're gonna be great."
Happiness has her wanting to twirl in circles, dance around the room as if she were a teenager again, but she resists the urge to embarrass herself completely, pulling away instead. She has to get to their captain's office after all.
Glancing over her shoulder, she takes one last look before slipping into detective mode, and what she sees leaves her chuckling. With his hands elevated above his head, his ass resting precariously on the edge of the desk, his ankles crossed, he fist pumps the sky in celebration.
"Castle."
His whole body shifts as she catches him out, and putting on an air of laid back and relaxed, he lifts an eyebrow.
"Yes."
"Discreet. Very, very discreet."
Winking, he folds his arms over his chest, his features schooling into a mask of subtly and she almost applauds the transformation until the next words out of his mouth have her rolling her eyes.
"Like ninjas. Ooooh, we're ninja dating!"
Oh. Geez. What has she started?
Riding the euphoria over his talk with Kate, Rick leaves the tech room behind. The chances of him actually concentrating are about none, especially given that he is sure that he could smell lunch wafting from the bullpen when Espo had interrupted them.
The sight of Ryan scarfing down Chinese makes him walk a little faster, his stomach rumbling eagerly as he approaches his own take-out bag on the desk, but as he settles into his chair, a large rectangular box steals his attention.
His fingers glide over the smooth surface, the anticipation of what could be inside slows his movements as he savors the feeling, the rush that comes with the unexpected. It's like Christmas morning, after everything is opened, and out of the blue you find one more gift behind the sofa with your name on it.
It's been too many years since he's celebrated Christmas. Since he's celebrated anything.
Catching the lid with his fingertips, he gradually lifts it, but before he can expose an inch of its secrets, a crisp white piece of paper escapes, landing on his desk.
Kate's neat handwriting is what registers first, before her sentences clue him in to what is inside.
For your words. Somewhere for them to be free.
He's shoving the lid aside, all sense of treasuring the moment abolished with her heartfelt note, and his heart jumps within his chest.
It's a laptop, sleek and black, a place for him to write, and he can't breathe.
Before last night she'd joked about his lack of technology, how he'd refused to buy one. He'd given the flimsy excuse that he didn't require such a device when he was surrounded by computers at the precinct if he got desperate.
But now - she'd heard him when he confessed that the words were whispering to him once again, yet more than that, she'd comprehended what that meant. She's shown him that he is not alone when it comes to the feelings blossoming inside, has taken it upon herself to give him a place to put his thoughts, his words, should they need to be written.
And already his fingers are itching to touch the keys, the images in his mind pushing for release. There was an idea and now, there is a story.
Because of her.
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Thank you all for making the end of my weekend so full of smiles and squeals of joy with your reviews xoxo
My apologies for not getting back to you individually, the two day frequency is removing my replying day :/
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Which brings me to the next issue. I wanted this finished before the end of Season six *sob* but that's not going to happen with five more chapters to go, but I will be doing them every two days if that's good for the majority of readers? I am hoping ficathon fever will start in my brain once this is completed (I have issues concentrating on two stories at once - plus everything else in life, lol.)
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All the flails got to Jo and Jamie for their work on whipping this into shape. So very much appreciated xoxo
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Thank you for reading xoxo