Disclaimer: The only part of Castle that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.
"Hey, Javi, you think something's up with Beckett?" Kevin Ryan asks his partner, tilting his head ever so slightly in the direction of their team leader.
Esposito spins around in his chair and looks squarely at her. "Like what?"
"When I say that, you're not supposed to stare at her. She'll know we're talking about her."
"We are talking about her."
"That's not the point."
Espo's eyes narrow. He's beginning to look cranky around the edges.
"The point is, man, she's been acting funny lately."
"Funny like how?"
"Look at her right now, I mean, don't look, look. Just look casually her way. See? She's just staring at the wall."
"She does that a lot."
"Yeah, but she's smiling while she's doing it. Spacey, you know? Usually she's all squinty and chewing on her pencil."
"That's not much. What else?"
"Well you know when LT had to bring his sister's dog in here the other day? That yappy little poodle with the hair ribbons and pink coat? Beckett was carrying it around and cooing at it. I swear to God. Was saying 'Awww, you little cutie.' And then—"
"There's more?"
"Yeah, yeah. And then she said the dog's collar was too boyish and that at lunch she'd go buy it a pink sparkly one. And she did. I saw the damn thing."
"Maybe you got something after all, Ryan. Now that I think about it. Yeah, yeah. And another thing."
"What?"
"Watch and learn." Espo pushes himself up from his chair and walks straight through the bullpen. A minute later, he's on his way back, holding a bag in his hand, and he stops at Beckett's desk.
"Want a chip?" he asks, offering her the open bag.
"Huh?" She focuses at last. "Oh." She dips her hand in, withdraws an enormous fistful of chips and smiles before turning to work at her computer. "Thanks, Espo."
"No problem," he says, and saunters to his desk.
Ryan asks a question with his eyes.
"Right? Ever see Beckett eat more than one chip? She took half the bag." He risks craning his neck to check on her. "Yeah, she's eaten all of them. Like a freakin' vacuum cleaner. She's been eating a lot like that lately."
"Ooh, Mom. Where did you get these chips? From Esposito? They are the best. Really salty. Can he be my Godfather?"
"Huh. You think she looks like she's gained weight?"
"Maybe."
"See, I noticed that lately she's had on these baggy sweaters which are totally out of fashion—"
"You been reading Vogue, Ryan? You are an embarrassment sometimes."
"No, but I noticed something you didn't, so I guess my detective skills are a notch above yours. What I'm saying is, when was the last time you saw Beckett wear anything baggy?"
Espo coughs, looks around the room for potential eavesdroppers, and scoots his chair closer to his partner's desk. "I didn't say nothing before," he whispers, "because I don't want to sound like a scumbag. But do, uh, her, do her, uh, does her chest look bigger to you?"
"Aggh, Javi, I can't believe you said that. About Beckett! Geez. Talking about Beckett's…" He shudders, then looks furtively at her. "But you know, you're right." He pauses, and his eyes light up. "Oh, man. I know. I know exactly what's going on."
"Spill."
"She's pregnant. I remember when I said that to you once before, you nearly killed me. Right before she left to go be a Fed. But I bet you a hundred bucks I'm right."
"Yeah, well you had pregnancy on the brain then because of Jenny."
"Okay, maybe, but think about it. She's married. Natural progression."
"Think we should say something to her?"
"Are you crazy? No, man. Maybe you could ask Lanie. She'd know."
"No way. I'd like to hang on to my own baby-making equipment, thanks."
"I guess we'll find out eventually? So we won't say anything yet."
Both men turn to paperwork, but after twenty minutes, Ryan's curiosity has blossomed to a state of uncontainability. He makes his way to the break room and says, "Beckett? You want some coffee?"
"No thanks, Ryan, I'm fine."
A few steps more and he's inside, looking out the interior window to Espo. He mouths, slowly and dramatically, "SHE SAID NO TO COFFEE! CASE CLOSED!" He fetches a mug for himself and makes the return trip, this time humming "Lullaby and Good Night."
Beckett's head snaps up. "You singing a lullaby, Ryan?"
"That's nice, Mom. I like that one."
"Who me? No, not me." His face is already red. "I mean yeah, maybe. You know, thinking of Sarah Grace."
She raises an eyebrow, which is enough to effect paralysis in her colleague. "Really? At," she makes a show of consulting her watch, "ten o'clock in the morning? Isn't your kid's bedtime around seven? At night?"
"Yeah, but it's always good to practice. I'll just get back to my work."
"Kevin!"
Paralysis returns. He doesn't move.
"Stay. Right here." Beckett pivots towards Espo. "Javi? Care to join us?"
"Join you?"
"Yes, we're having a nice chat. Please come here. Now."
"Wow, Mom, you sound really tough! What's going on? Can you ask him to bring those chips with him for your chat?"
Espo gulps. She may have said please, but he knows a command when he hears one. Like, "Get your ass here this minute or you'll regret it for the rest of your pitiful life." He joins them.
"We're going into interrogation one," Beckett says, pointing the way. "Since there's going to be a little interrogating going on. I'll be asking the questions, by the way."
The two men slink to the perp side of the table, and sit down. Beckett remains standing. "You have anything to say?"
"What?" Ryan looks as innocent as possible. "No. I don't know. Why are we here, Beckett?"
Espo follows, in echolalia. "Why are we here, Beckett?"
"Yeah, why are we here, Mom?"
"You think I haven't noticed you today? You've been staring at me. Gawping, gaping. Making little trips by my desk. Whispering. You want to explain that?"
"If we were staring, and I'm not saying I was, it was because you look so nice. Today. You look really nice." Ryan looks even more desperate than he sounds. Like a twelve-year-old caught reading Playboy and denying it, even with Miss February draped over his knees.
"So you're saying that usually I don't look nice?"
"No, not at all. Right, Javi? We were just saying how you always look nice."
"Really. You think I always look nice. I'm flattered. Okay, did I look nice yesterday?"
"Definitely!" Espo says. "You looked great, just even better today."
"What was I wearing yesterday that make me look great?"
Uh-oh. Busted. He shoots a look—a bizarre blend of supplication and hostility—at Ryan, since he'd gotten them into this. Ryan remains silent.
"Uh, pants?"
"I hope you had pants on Mom! You were at work. But I know you haven't been buttoning them for a couple of days. You said it was my fault. If you didn't button them, did they fall off? I bet everybody would remember that."
"What color?" She's really enjoying this.
"Blue?" Her eyebrow goes up again and Espo tries not to cringe. "Maybe black?"
She slaps her hand down on the table and thrusts her face just inches from Ryan. "You're the Dapper Dan here, Ryan. You tell me. What else was I wearing yesterday, besides blue or maybe black pants?"
"I seem." He clears his throat and moves his head back an inch. "I seem to remember a top? A top of some kind."
Maybe it's the squeakiness of their voices, or their expressions of unrelieved terror, but she breaks. Beckett sits down in the straight-back chair opposite them and laughs.
Ryan opens his mouth, but shuts it, with a whimper, when Esposito delivers a kick to his shin.
She's still laughing. She may never have laughed this hard, this long, ever.
"This is great, Mom. It's like a tilt-a-whirl in here! Don't stop laughing."
She stops long enough to note that whatever emotional state the boys had been in when she started guffawing is considerably worse now. She takes a deep breath. "Okay, guys. It's okay. I couldn't help myself. You guys are so transparent."
"Excuse me?" they say, as one.
"Go ahead, ask me."
"Oh, we weren't going to ask you anything, Beckett," Ryan says.
"You're a terrible liar, Kevin. I don't know how you ever pulled anything over on a nun. Remind me to invite you over for poker." She turns her head towards Esposito. "You weren't going to ask me anything?"
"Absolutely not, Beckett."
"Okay, then." She stands up, smiles at them, and flicks some imaginary lint from her oversized sweater. "Since you weren't going to ask, I guess I won't tell you that I'm pregnant." She turns and walks cheerfully out door, leaving her two slack-jawed colleagues at the table.
"Mom? I'm not really sure. Did you tell them about me or not?"
TBC
A/N Continuing thanks to everyone who is reading this story, especially to those who let me know what they think.