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A one time thing
Chapter Fourteen - Moving forward
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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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The buzzing from the phone shatters the silence of her sleep, and, as Kate drags a heavy hand across her eyes, she reaches with her other, fingers blindly turning off the noise. Peace settles onto her bedroom once again and she rolls over, buries her head as the whisper of dreams calls her back.
A vibrating rattle sounds this time. The hum of the phone dancing across the surface of the bedside table alerts her moments before the alarm goes off, and she groans into the pillow.
Stretching across the sheets, there is nothing but more material, and her hand begins thumping the mattress as if the up and down movement will help conjure up the missing cell.
"Would you like me to turn that off?"
Rick's words float across the bedroom, humor lacing them, and as the rasp of his morning voice travels, it creates a path of boiling liquid in her toes, which quickly floods her entire body. It doesn't matter how often he is here, every morning with him holds the same thrill, the same allure that it held the first morning he ever stayed here, after her throat was cut.
Shifting onto her back, the sheets pooling low on her hips, she raises both arms above her head, stretching. With purpose, she pulls at her sleep shirt, flashing a strip of skin across her abdomen, just for him.
"I'm up."
His smile expands as he crosses the space between them, stalks over to his side of the bed and sitting, he picks up the phone, shutting the alarm off.
"Shouldn't that be my line?"
Laughing quietly, she wiggles a hand to his hip, uses the tips of her fingers to tease his skin at the waist of his jeans. She scrapes lines into his flesh with the flat edge of her nail, marking him just because she can.
"How come you're awake already?"
She focuses on her hand, inches it closer and closer to see if he is already up, but before she can find out exactly how awake he is, he's already trapped her, dragging her off his skin and out of his clothes.
"Just getting some words out."
He raises her hand within his, interlocks their fingers as he brings them as one to his lips, and with a closed mouth he places kiss after kiss onto her knuckles. She doesn't ask for any more details after his explanation; she's just thankful that he is getting them out. And while it remains a mystery to her - she hasn't seen a word of his writing - he is writing. He's been typing steadily for months, carving out time in the dark of the night, or in the early light of the morning, and it creates such joy in him. And in her.
She helped do this. Even if all she did was buy him a laptop so he had somewhere to write, she played a small part in getting him back into the fictional world and she couldn't be more proud.
Tugging on his hand, she pulls their connected fingers away from his mouth and steers them toward her own. It's her turn to lavish him with kisses and she does so, until her phone buzzes for the third time. Snooze time is over.
It's time to get up and get this day started.
"Have you seen my blue turtleneck?"
Kate's muffled question has him turning away from the stove, and his gaze lands on her as she streaks past him. With a towel wrapped snugly across her chest, the hem barely covering her most glorious ass, both of her hands rub another towel through her hair, drying it, and his eyes absorb the sight before him.
"It was in the laundry I did last night. Should be hanging with the shirts."
Flinging the towel onto the sofa - the one from her head unfortunately - she changes directions swiftly, plants a brief kiss on his cheek before leaving him in search of her missing clothes, and he stands, transfixed as she disappears around the doorway.
"Rick. Pancakes."
Shit.
He pivots, nose wrinkling at the scent of burnt batter, and huffing to himself, he slides this lot into the bin before starting another round. It's hardly his fault though. How is he supposed to concentrate when she's running around practically naked?
Especially when the price he pays for getting up in the early hours is to miss out on the taste of her upon waking. It's a sacrifice that he will rectify at some point throughout today, although with paperwork awaiting them, it won't be until tonight – worse luck.
Sadly, enjoying life is forever interrupted by work.
"Did you burn breakfast?"
Looking over his shoulder, his glance catches sight of her - this time fully dressed unfortunately - her cheeks lifting high as she beams at him, teeth flashing. She's not a detective for nothing, and she knows the answer to her question. He plays along though, glares in response and points at the batch he's currently cooking. This lot hasn't burned - yet. Grabbing at the pan, he flips them just in time, and that sets her off. She laughs, her long, damp curls falling forward as her head dips down, her shoulders shaking and he fights against the urge to use the spatula to swat at her rear.
It's not that funny. It's also not the first time he's destroyed breakfast while distracted by her.
"I can eat all of these on my own, you know."
"I know. But then think of all the exercise you would need to do to burn off all those calories."
Groaning at the images of just how he could work off the excess intake, he turns to concentrate on the last three pancakes, expertly sliding them onto the awaiting plates. He always looks forward to mornings when they have enough time to sit and eat properly, rather than rushing to a body drop.
Kate shifts around him, grasping both plates, but before she can head toward the table, he swoops in for a kiss.
The sensation of his back pocket vibrating has his hips thrusting into hers before the ringing follows and it all leaves him grunting in irritation.
Wanting to sit down together for breakfast and take their time to enjoy a moment was clearly asking too much of the universe.
Kate lifts the same sofa cushion that she had lifted not thirty seconds earlier, as if her keys will magically appear with the second look, but as expected, there's nothing there but lint.
"We can just lock up your place with my set."
Normally she'd appreciate the way he removes the irritability from a situation with a humorous remark, but right now, she just wants to find the goddamn keys.
"Oh. I know what to get you for your birthday. One of those things that beeps when you lose them."
Snapping her head up, her body becomes frozen at the implication of his words.
Not the idea of him getting her a gift - that's just sweet - but that he's made a note of when her birthday is. It's not for another three weeks, and before then there's another milestone to be marked.
Next week is the ninth anniversary of Alexis' death.
He'd withdrawn during the first half of October on what would have been her eighteenth birthday - understandably, she is no better during January - and she had stood patiently at his side, waiting to be there for whatever he needed.
One stormy night, he had quietly let himself in, and finding her underneath the comforter, he'd fallen into her arms. She'd held him tight as he'd sobbed, her own tears mixing with his.
Will she be enough this time?
"You don't have to get me anything."
Joining his eyes with hers, they stare at each other tentatively. There's no protocol for this kind of situation, and it's hard to know what to say next. This isn't the first time they've had to work out just how to define themselves over the last six months; the balance of maintaining a partnership at work and a relationship at home has taken time, effort, and patience. But they'll make their way through - they always do.
"I don't have to. But I want to."
He smiles, a soft uplift of his lips, and like so many times of late, her heart expands more than she'd ever thought possible. Dropping her gaze, her shoes suddenly so very interesting, she hides herself for a moment, the unexpected shyness that comes with his declaration flushing her skin heatedly.
She loves him. Even if she hasn't found a way, just yet, to tell him; to tell him all the ways that he has changed her life, that he's been a major part of her finding her balance. She hadn't even realized how unsteady she was until she'd found it. Found him.
Squaring her shoulders back, pushing all of her emotions into the treasured basket within her heart that holds all of these sacred pieces of time, she covers the distance between them quickly.
With both hands, she grabs the material at his hips, forms two fists, and using the leverage and her heels, she propels her body into his, her mouth hard, almost frantic as she kisses him. She may not be able to express herself with words, but she has other ways to communicate.
His lips widen, well-practiced in the art of bringing her to her knees, and she breathes him in, draws him into her mouth as her tongue slides into the furnace that awaits. It is a blaze that leaves her moaning as the intensity of them takes hold.
"Work." He murmurs the intrusion as he withdraws slightly, and pleasure most certainly becomes displeasure at the reality of their situation; they should already be on their way to a body drop.
"Later?" Of course there will be, but she still seeks out the promise.
"Definitely."
"What do you have for us, Lanie?"
Beckett gets straight to the point as they approach the crime scene. The green grass underfoot crunches as the chill sets into their bones, but Castle's gaze isn't on their medical examiner. It's not even on their victim, who lies propped against the trunk of a tree, half concealed by the shrubs that have grown in its shadow.
There are more people here than normal, and the hair on his neck is standing on end.
"We have a twenty-six year old, female. Cause of death appears to be a single bullet to the chest. Close range, too."
"And what does everyone else have?"
He comes to a stop next to his partner, makes eye contact with Lanie as she rises from her crouched position next to the body.
"You noticed that, huh?" Glancing around, she nods as if to herself, before focusing back on them. "Our victim was a nanny, was supposed to be walking back from the park yesterday afternoon with an eight year old girl."
Closing his eyelids, just for a fraction of a second as the air around him disappears, he attempts to steady the thrashing in his chest, attempts to inhale when there's nothing to breathe in.
A finger twirls its way around his thumb, squeezes him tight before disappearing, and it's enough to bring him back into himself, to bring him back to the now.
What did he ever do before she came into his life?
"Are the Feds handling the potential kidnapping angle?" Showing no sign that she is anything but Detective Beckett, she begins walking around the crime scene, clearly taking in all the details as she eyes the parkland.
"Yes." Lanie lifts the clear bag containing a wallet, the young woman's driver's license easily identifiable through the plastic. "ID was still in her pocket. Espo and Ryan were first to arrive. The Feds descended as soon as a link to the missing girl was made."
Curling his hand into a fist, he stares at Kate as she continues to move around the area, her eyes scanning for any clue, any odd sock, and if he can just hold on to the thread that exists between them, the way everything is a little bit easier when she is there, he can do this.
He can work a case like this and still hold it all together.
He can.
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Thank you. There is sooooooooo much happy dancing that occurs when I read your beautiful words of support xoxo
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Thank you to Jo and Jamie for all their hard work xoxo
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Thank you for reading xoxo