13: Time and tide
Castle barely makes it through dinner. He barely tastes his food, which is as delicious as it normally is. He barely tastes the wine, which is unheard of. He barely notices the world around him, in fact. His entire attention is focused on the thought of barely dressed Beckett. She has spent the whole of dinner winding him up. She has turned every sentence into a double-entendre; every mouthful of food into an invitation to sin. Worst of all, it's worked. All he can imagine are variants on the single sin of lust, and he has an excellent imagination. This is so not fair.
"Coffee, Beckett?" he forces out.
"Yes, please." Phew. No more innuendo. He really cannot cope with more innuendo. He's barely – oh god, don't think barely, all he can think of is bare. As in naked… naked… naked Beckett, oh god – coping as it is.
Beckett makes her way to the couch, her walk much closer to her normal swift-flowing stride. It would help if she wasn't still lowering herself with extreme care, but every little improvement relieves Castle's over-protective instincts. Unfortunately every little improvement stokes his over-primitive instincts. He tries to concentrate on the coffee. Caffeine might clear his head and lower his blood pressure. It certainly needs lowered in specific respects. And places.
Beckett, fortunately for Castle's thinning self-control, has stopped teasing him and is behaving in a relatively restrained fashion. Perhaps it's something to do with the way he had tucked her in and held on to her hands so that she couldn't take any further steps to provoke him. She was far too provocative, and then she had smirked like the Cheshire Cat with a whole dairy's worth of cream on tap. Gradually the scorching air around them had cooled and the oxygen quotient had risen to safe levels, luckily before he suffocated, anything flared up, or his family reappeared at an – er – embarrassing moment. Time passes, peacefully. Alexis comes home, her usual safe margin before curfew, downloads the evening's issues and successes and then wanders off to her own bed.
"More painkillers," Beckett eventually says, "before bedtime." Castle widens his eyes at her and considers whether batting his eyelashes would have any effect other than causing her to collapse in laughter and puncture a lung in the process.
"What?" Over the last half-hour, she's been quiet and thoughtful. He's left her to it, reckoning that if Beckett is processing matters then he'd better not interrupt. She'd traced the watch face over and over again, played with the ring on its chain, traced the watch face some more, played with the ring again, sliding it up and down, spinning it around.
"Bedtime?"
"Yeah. Tomorrow I really need to start looking for a new apartment." Castle swallows. "Even if I found one tomorrow, it's going to be a while before I can move in. Couple of weeks, minimum. Then I'll need to get furniture, which'll take a few days to get delivered. I'm not sleeping on the floor."
"You don't have to," Castle says pathetically. "Just stay here."
"I can't stay here for ever, Castle." He slams his throat shut around yes you can. Yes you should. "Besides which…" – she smiles blandly – "I like privacy." Oh. Ooohhhh.
"I can help you look," he says hopefully.
"Ye-es," Beckett says slowly. "I have a budget, Castle. Do you know what that means?"
"Yes," he says, with a slight edge. "I do. We lived on one for years." Beckett makes a sorry sort of gesture, which alleviates his irritation.
"Okay. You can help, but you don't have to. I can manage."
"I'm helping," Castle says firmly. "So no sneaking off to the real estate agent without me." Beckett looks mildly mutinous. "No sneaking, Beckett."
"It's bedtime," she says. "I'm tired." She looks it, again. Must be the thought of apartment-hunting. It wouldn't be reasonable to put her off – but he wants to. She should stay here. He swoops down and kisses her thoroughly, then stands her up gently.
"Night, Beckett. Till tomorrow." She droops off, slowly dragging up the stairs, but with a set of her shoulders which shouts that help is not welcome. Doing it for herself. It's admirable, and appalling. He doesn't suggest that she should start the night in his bed, mainly because she appears to need some quiet time alone, but partly because he also thinks that she'll end up there anyway, so he doesn't need to force the issue.
Tonight, he doesn't bother pretending to be asleep. But midnight comes and goes without company arriving, and eventually even Castle's night-owl brain tells him it's time to give up and rest. He prepares himself for sleep: washed, teeth brushed, pyjama pants on, laptop powered down and safely on his desk. Stepping on it while he tries to drag himself into wakefulness would be dumb – and he's done it before. Klutziness is not sexy, in his opinion.
That, on the other hand, definitely is.
While he's been preparing for bed, Beckett has ghosted in and is now tucked on the side that Castle can definitely say she prefers, nearest the bathroom, furthest from the door – is that a tiny insecurity in confident, commanding Beckett? – eyes closed, dark hair spread. It's longer than it was even at Christmas, he notices, and recalls how it feels between his fingers, how, in a moment, it will smell as he curls himself protectively around her and nestles his nose against her neck. He allows himself a creepy staring moment which is halted when he detects a small trace of dampness on and under her lashes. He expects she's had another nightmare, and rapidly slips in beside her, lays a comforting arm over her midriff – oooohhh, something silky – and since Beckett is asleep, or at least nine-tenths so, ensures that he has snuggled suitably close for her comfort, if not his.
To his surprise, Beckett wriggles a little, moving his hand to rest over her heart – oh, how is he supposed to resist temptation when it's right there and she's put it right there – sniffs a tiny sniff, and speaks.
"I had another nightmare. It's pathetic."
"Not so," Castle rumbles soothingly. "To be expected. Just stay here, and it'll be okay. No more nightmares."
"I can't stay here for ever, Castle. I… I just can't. I don't do well with people around all the time. I need my own space. Somewhere to… stop."
Castle lies still. He'd noticed it, of course he'd noticed it, and not pushed in on her solitude – seems like that was just as well, because if he had it could have been disastrous – but how's he going to persuade her to be with him if she can't cope with togetherness? She's still murmuring.
"It's okay when it's you," – what? Did he hear that right? – "but I just can't deal with fuss." Her nose and most of her head disappear into the covers and pillows. "There's always something happening here, and it's fine now, but I can't always..." She reappears, slightly. "That sounds so freaking ungrateful. I'm sorry. You've all been so kind and I'm intruding and…"
"Stop."
"and you got my watch back and my mother's ring and you've let me stay and" –
"Stop." This time it works. He puts on a sidelight, hoists himself on to an elbow and looks down at her. Well, her ear, which is not exactly informative. He very cautiously rolls her over to see her face in the soft illumination. "I get it." She acquires an uncertain, disbelieving expression. "I do. Why do you think I have an office, and my mother's room is upstairs? I need headspace to write. It's not like writing's a spectator sport." There's sudden, total relaxation under his arm and a large sigh of relief, followed by a small wince. He pets her, stroking along the curve of her waist. Suddenly she buries her head in his chest, which shortly acquires a small puddle of salt water.
"We'll go look for apartments tomorrow, Beckett." Her hand slips into his. "Find you something you like." He smiles sleepily at her. "Of course, I'll have to like it too."
"Why? It's me who'll be living there."
"It is I, Beckett. Good grammar is very impor – ow! That wasn't nice. Don't poke me in the ribs when I can't retaliate."
"Don't criticise my grammar at – ugh – one in the morning, then. Why do you need to like my apartment?"
"Because I expect I'll spend a lot of time in it." Beckett rolls her eyes, distracted by his annoying tone. It always works to cheer her up. Or irritate her, which is often much the same thing and certainly will produce the right result just now. "After all, you're my girl. You said so."
"Was I on crack?" Ah, there's a comfortingly normal Beckett bite.
"I expect you were intoxicated by my manly presence." She pokes him in the ribs again. "Stop it. It's not fair to do that."
"I'm letting the air out of your over-inflated ego." But her hand curls around his more tightly, and she's still cuddled into his chest.
"You'll want me to spend time there." He returns to the main point, noting happily that she is not disagreeing with the thesis. "You might as well just give me a key straight away."
Beckett groans, then yawns. "Night, Castle." There's a very indistinct mutter which follows that, but it's so muffled by his pectoral that he can't make it out.
"Till tomorrow, sweetheart," he says, without thinking about it at all until after it's exited his mouth. Astonishingly, he appears still to be living. Astonishment reduces when he notices that Beckett has fallen asleep as suddenly and quietly as a baby, with her hand still interlinked with his. He arranges himself comfortably, doesn't let go of her, and slips peacefully into sleep.
Castle wakes to the sound of his alarm, grumps at it, and then realises that his bed is empty of Becketts and full of unwanted space. Then he realises that it's Sunday and he didn't need to wake, either, and grumps some more.
"You sound like a walrus," Beckett says. He jumps.
"Where were you? You sneaked off."
"Didn't. Went to the bathroom. Now I'm back. No sneaking." She eases back into bed. It's still cautious.
"You did sneak. You sneak far too much. In fact, thinking of sneaking, you shouldn't have been sneaking into my bed last night." Beckett flicks her head round to stare at him.
"What?"
"No more sneaking into my bed in the middle of the night." It's not until the colour and life drains from her face that he realises how she's taken it. He makes sure she's looking at his wide grin, and pats her shoulder. "You should sneak into my bed at bedtime, not wake me up in the middle of the night. Or preferably not sneak at all."
An unwilling grin spreads over her face in return. "Okay, Castle. No sneaking. But that means no sneaking by you either. No sneaking up to me and covertly" –
"So hot" –
"holding my hand; no sneaky snuggling up and pretending you're asleep when you do."
That's no fun at all, Beckett. Of course, it would be much more fun if he could simply – well, pounce on her, pull her over and haul her in and take the initiative but he can't do that while she's broken in body if absolutely not in mind. In fact, understandable emotional swings apart, she's in a better mental place than she's been in months: ever since Coonan, ever since last summer, perhaps. Maybe… maybe he really is good for her? He's always known – well, since he read her file – that he would be. So maybe… maybe she's seen it too, now? He really believes that she has. Finally.
"Okay. No sneaky snuggling. Overt snuggling, instead." Beckett makes a disgusted snort and then sniggers.
"And this differs from sneaky snuggling how exactly?"
"I don't pretend I'm asleep."
"Huh," Beckett says meditatively. She – well, snuggles. Very slightly, but it's a snuggle. And then she closes her eyes firmly. "I'm asleep."
"No you're not."
"I am."
In which case, Castle is going to do some snuggling of his own. Non-sneakily. So he does. He slips an arm under Beckett's neck, the other over her midriff (again), and places his large frame between her and the door, since she seems to like that. She makes an indeterminate noise of contentment and, he finds, is in fact asleep immediately. If he'd had to bet, he'd have bet on her being insomniac. He guesses that was wrong, too. Or maybe it's just this week. He wriggles happily as he thinks that he'll – finally! – get the chance to find out. And then, since it is, after all, Sunday, he returns to dreamland himself.
It doesn't last, of course. He's woken by crashing and banging around the general vicinity of the kitchen, which he could ignore, but then it starts aiming for his office, which he can't. He doesn't think that Beckett particularly wants to be found in his bed by his mother, which is looking increasingly likely if he doesn't head his mother off. He heaves himself out of bed and wanders through to find out what's going on.
What is going on is initially unclear. His mother is still dressed in the eye-searing turquoise sequins on purple silk of last night. She appears to be drinking a Bloody Mary. She also appears still to be tipsy, at best. So far, so understandable. What Castle doesn't get is the man's briefcase locked to her wrist. The clanging and banging is explained, as his mother is trying to remove it with a meat mallet.
"Mother, what is going on?"
"Oh, Richard. This stupid briefcase won't unlock."
"Why are you wearing a briefcase, Mother?"
"I was auditioning." Castle raises his eyebrows. "There is an off-Broadway all-female production of The Thirty-Nine Steps being cast." With considerable difficulty, he preserves a straight face. "And they wanted me to wear this briefcase, but then they dropped the key and couldn't find it."
"And?" Castle asks, fascinated by the tale and already searching for a way to include it in a book. "You aren't exactly sober, Mother."
"Well, what would you do, darling? By the time we'd tried an all-night locksmith, we simply had to dull the pain with a little drink or two."
"Or five."
"Don't be rid-hic-ulous, Richard. Now, help me get this off so I can go to bed. I'm not sharing my bed with a briefcase." She hiccups again. "A nice stuntman, now" –
"Mother, that is an image I do not need in my head." Castle looks at the briefcase and the handcuff linking it to his mother. "Stop banging it with a mallet. Alexis is asleep."
"And what about Katherine?"
"I have no idea. But if she is asleep she needs it, so stop banging." He removes the mallet from her inept hand and inspects it. "You've dented it."
His mother harrumphs. "Anyone would think that your kitchen equipment was more important than my well-being."
"It costs less for greater pleasure," Castle mutters, and doesn't quite avoid a smack. "Do you want this briefcase removed or not?"
"Yes, darling. What are you going to do?"
"Get my universal key and unlock it." His mother is pleasingly silenced. It's even better when it does unlock her, and she disappears upstairs, still clutching her Bloody Mary, in a cloud of flusteredly sarcastic thanks and much embarrassment. Castle returns to his bedroom buoyed up on a cloud of rather unworthy self-satisfaction and reflects that on normal form he now won't need to worry about his mother until late afternoon.
"Wha's goin' on," floats up from the pile of pillows burying Beckett. " 'M asleep. Shhh."
"You're not asleep, you're talking to me," Castle points out.
"Shhhhh." She pulls a pillow over her ear. It's adorable. But not so adorable that Castle doesn't want to show off his cleverness.
"I've been unlocking my mother from a briefcase," he bounces.
" 'M asleep. G'way." Another pillow covers her head. Then she emerges, gopher-like. "A briefcase?" She's all tousled and sexy. Gophers never look that desirable. He plops down on the bed next to her, only remembering that that's a bad plan after he's done it. Surprisingly, she doesn't wince.
"Are you feeling better?" he asks, distracted momentarily from the tale of the briefcase. Beckett stretches from toes to waist, then much more carefully from waist to shoulders, and then looks briefly (Castle sniggers at his own cleverness) and blissfully happy.
"It didn't hurt!" Castle has a sudden rush of blood to the – well, not his head. Not the one on his neck, anyway.
"It didn't?" he purrs in a particularly predatory tone, and looms over her. Her eyes darken and sleepiness is replaced by a hot interest.
"No," she husks. "It didn't." He's hit her lips before the last t has died on the air. He has not, however, put any weight at all on her body, and when she reaches for his neck and pulls he doesn't move. This is not popular.
"Come here," she orders.
"Nope. Not leaning on you. You'll break."
She takes a very deep breath, no doubt preparatory to a new round of orders – it's so cute – and then squeaks, not cutely at all.
"Owwwwwwwwww," she exhales. "That…" – another, shallower, breath in, and out, and in again, slowly – "hurt." Statement of the obvious there, Beckett.
"See. Still broken." Possibly the smug tone was a bad idea. Beckett is glaring ferociously at him. "Beckett, it's clear you can't resist my rugged body, handsome face, wit and charm" –
"Wanna bet, Captain Conceited?" –
"but I really think that you need to mend or we need to find a better way."
"I've gone off the idea. I hurt." She pouts. "This is not fair."
"You sound just like me. I knew I'd rub off on you eventually." Beckett quirks an eyebrow. "And when you're mended I'll rub off on you as often as you like." She makes a noise that, if it had had any breath behind it, might have been a groan. "But not till you're mended. I can't be responsible for your injuries. Esposito's going to kill me anyway for letting you go into the warehouse and Dunn dropping on top of you."
"Oh?" Beckett says dangerously. "Esposito thinks you should look after me on the job, does he?" Castle suddenly realises that he's just dropped Esposito in it from around 50,000 feet, and… uh-oh, she's just got it. "And I suppose Ryan's in on this little babysitting club you're running too?" How can someone lying tousled in his bed in teeny little silky shorts and camisole top exude such terrifying menace so quickly? "How long has that been going on?" He is going to be drummed out of the Men's Association. He really is. He's inadvertently broken the code. The code being Don't Tell Beckett. Oh, shit. That's put paid to snuggling. And possibly to life.
Beckett slides her legs out of bed and stands up. "I am going to shower and dress. Alone. And when I come back, you are going to explain this protection racket to me. In detail."
Oh, hell. They are all three of them so dead.
Thank you to all readers and reviewers. All your thoughts are very much appreciated.