19: A time to give
As it happens, and with the aid of the elevator, the heavy lifting isn't as heavy as the three of them expect. Castle pleads a bathroom break and manages to dispose of his very private gift when he takes advantage of it.
"Where does it go?"
"No idea. Let's just put it in the middle of the floor and wait."
"Maybe we should arrange it?" Ryan suggests.
"You're mad," Esposito replies bluntly. "What's the point of puttin' it anywhere? She'll make us move it."
"Naw." Castle and Espo stare at Ryan.
"No?"
"No. Lanie'll make us move it. Beckett would help us move it. Lanie won't let her, though."
"Just as well. I'm not having another go-around with the ER doctor. I think next time Beckett turns up there with hurt ribs he'll have a breakdown."
Ryan sniggers.
"I heard it was the EMT in the ambulance who had a breakdown."
"He's the first person who's been pleased to see me show up at a crime scene," Castle says.
"Aw, Castle. That's not true." Castle preens hopefully. "We're always pleased to see you." He preens more. "Means Beckett's got someone to shoot that ain't us." He droops. "Now, where's that coffee Beckett told you to make us?"
Castle puts coffee together and finds mugs rather too quickly, he realises. Nothing happens till the coffee is mostly drunk, but unfortunately the delay does not mean that the boys have forgotten anything. Cops, he knows and right now deeply regrets, never seem to forget anything. Worse than elephants. Maybe that's why Beckett likes elephants?
"How'd you know where everything is?"
"Helped Beckett get it all yesterday," he says laconically. Less is definitely more, when it comes to answering the boys. "Then I got to carry it all for her."
"Bet you're glad we made you train with us."
"Yeah. I really expected that I'd be using it to shift furniture." He hums a few bars of Money for Nothing. "Writing's a lot better than heavy lifting."
"Yeah, bro. Better get used to the training, 'cause you're gonna be doin' a lot more of it."
"What? Why?"
"You didn't get to Beckett fast enough. You need to speed up."
"So you'd better be in the gym at seven for the next week." The boys grin evilly at him.
"Had he?" Not one of them had heard the door opening. All of them hear Beckett's icy tones. "Care to explain why, Esposito?" Esposito fails to come up with a good answer. "Since Espo seems to have had a momentary seizure, Ryan, why don't you explain. And while you're at it, you can explain what you mean by didn't get to Beckett fast enough."
There is a very nasty silence, in which even Lanie, who's sidled in to watch the fun, doesn't say a single word. Espo and Ryan keep opening their mouths, reconsidering, and closing them again. They are kebabbed. Skewered. Lanced. Or just plain screwed. This is going to be extraordinary, Castle knows. Extraordinarily ugly.
Beckett starts to pace, never taking her eyes off her cringing team. She's prowling, panther-like, and the boys are her prey.
"If you won't tell me, I'll start speculating. You won't like me" –
"When you're angry." Her furious glower shuts Castle up instantly. Ryan makes the mistake of snickering.
"Castle is not a cop. Let's start there. So – for those of you who seem to have forgotten what being a cop means – that means that we protect him. Whatever he thinks about it." She takes a breath. "Now. Why exactly do you think I can't do my job?"
"What!" the boys ejaculate in sync. "We don't… we never… what d'you mean?"
"I don't need a civilian protecting me. I don't need a bodyguard. The minute I need someone protecting me is the minute I should have my ass booted out the precinct. So tell me, why are you saying that Castle didn't get to me fast enough? That's not his job. It's not his call – shut up, Castle – what I do. Accidents happen. Psychos happen. We deal with it. You do not try to put a babysitter on me or wrap me in cotton wool. If you wanna do that, there's a daycare centre on East Tenth. I'm sure they're hiring."
There is a short silence.
"Don't try it again, boys." There is a certain amount of frantic headshaking. Castle is still trying to come to terms with Grizzly-Bear Beckett. Accent firmly on the grisly aspects. She turns to the kitchen area. The boys twitch like they might make for the door. Without even looking round Beckett says, "You're not going anywhere till the furniture's in place." Kettle on, she turns and grins widely. "The beers and pizza that I got to give you all dinner and say thanks don't come out the fridge till then, either." Both boys brighten up immediately.
Castle knows that none of them will ever need to refer to the dressing-down again. He also knows that he'll be training under the gentle (yeah, right) supervision of Esposito and Ryan three times a week. At seven a.m., because that's the only time Beckett won't spot it. It's good for him. It really is. It occurs to him that if he's fit, he can spend some time romantically sweeping Beckett up into his arms: a thought which appeals to his overly-romantic soul. He knew he'd find an advantage eventually, and this is quite a large one. Five-foot-nine of advantage, in fact.
Beckett appears to have a clear idea of where everything should go, which makes life much easier. Amusement is provided by Lanie's minatory stare every time Beckett so much as twitches her fingers. Fairly shortly, everything's arranged as she likes it. Castle's rug is set diagonally in the middle of the living area, safely away from the table and chairs. She'd got six, Castle ruminates, presumably for just this sort of situation. The only major thing that's missing is a couch.
"Am I allowed to lift the beer out?"
"Only if it's one bottle at a time," Espo quips.
"Not you too. Just for that, yours is last. Lanie? Ryan? Castle?" She hands them out and tosses the opener to Esposito. "Oops, did I forget you?" she says, grinning. She passes a beer over to Espo, and takes one herself.
"Thanks, everyone. Couldn't have got all this sorted without you." She smiles round. "Looks great." There are various murmurs of happy new home, and suchlike. "Let's have dinner. First dinner here."
It's amazing how much pizza can be eaten and beer drunk in good company after a productive day. His rug looks just right, and every so often Beckett casts it an affectionate glance. Affectionate glances at him are in short supply, and are extremely brief when they do happen. That, of course, may be because the other three are watching both of them extremely closely. Lanie, in particular, is exhibiting some of the observational traits of a hunting falcon. Castle wonders what they had talked about when Beckett returned the truck.
Finally the party starts to break up, and everyone drifts towards the door. Beckett thanks them all again, comments that they'll all be working off the pizza tomorrow in the precinct, and manages to shoo everyone but Castle out the door. He claims that as the only one who doesn't need to be in at eight he'll be the one to help with the washing up. Everyone but Beckett looks cynically disbelieving and manages, without saying it, to convey yeah right who are you fooling at jet-fighter volume. Beckett simply closes the front door and ignores, with massive dignity, Esposito's raised eyebrows and knowing smirk.
Castle reaches her before the noise of the door closing has died, and has his lips on hers and her body pressed against him barely later. He spends some time kissing her before he says anything. Beckett is not complaining. Very much not complaining.
"How'd you sleep last night, Beckett?"
"Okay." That doesn't sound reassuring. He pulls back a little, examines her, detects very little sign of a dreadful night, and no signs that a bit more sleep might have been helpful, and decides that the best thing to do is kiss her some more, and then to walk her back to a convenient wall to lean against, and then to take her mouth in a very much more definitive fashion. Beckett runs her hands into his hair and brings her leg up around his waist to trap him, encouraging him inward and closer. It would be very unmannerly to refuse a lady. Especially a lady who's inclined to be unladylike. So of course he doesn't: he explores and discovers and is in his turn discovered.
While he's doing that, his fingers are swiftly undoing her shirt, and then finding soft skin and skating teasingly over her breasts in their pretty soft cotton and lace, and then undoing – God, he loves front fastening lingerie – the bra, and then, since she's so much better than she has been and there's no sign at all that it's hurting her – quite the reverse – for the first time has a chance to play properly and show her all the ways in which he can make her feel really, really good without needing to worry about her ribs. He slides down from her lips to her jaw to her throat to her clavicles and then takes a jump to the left and then a step to the right and that's the pelvic thrust. He has to hold her tightly while he traces his tongue round her nipples and then licks harder, nips very softly to see if she likes it – she does – and then suckles till she's moved from tiny sighs to soft moans and drags him back upward to her mouth and then drags him upward to her bed. Well. Dragging is a considerable overstatement. One small move in the general direction of the stairs and he's just as fast as she to mount them.
By the time they've hit the bedroom, Beckett's shirt and bra have hit the floor and skittered down the stairs; Castle's shirt has slithered under the bed, and his shoes are missing. They're probably chasing Beckett's round the lower floor. He catches Beckett, swings her up into his arms in the manner of a latter-day Errol Flynn, and places her in the centre of her lovely large bed. Plenty of room for them to play as they please, and later, when playtime's over and they're tired, to fall asleep together, wrapped into each other.
At least for a while.
He shakes the momentary chill away, looks at Beckett, smiling up at him and licking her lips with the tip of a pink tongue, and in a slow, smooth seduction slides her pants off her legs and discards them. He kisses his way back up to the narrow lace edge of her panties, avoids the key areas and continues his ascent of Beckett to land up back on her mouth. Along the way he's managed to remove his own pants, and she's taking full advantage. He doesn't really think any more, after that.
They're very contentedly snuggled up together when Beckett finally notices his other present.
"What's that, Castle?"
"A housewarming gift."
"You already gave me a rug." But she's sitting up and reaching for the parcel on the nightstand. She doesn't, yet, have a dresser. He's sure she will, soon. He'll probably have to carry it. She starts to unwrap the brown paper. Under that is bubble wrap. Under that, by which time she's becoming impatient, is tissue paper. "Do I just keep unwrapping layers and find a magic bean in the middle?"
"No, Beckett. Have patience." She sticks her tongue out. Castle smirks. She rips off the tissue paper and stops dead.
"It's lovely. What's it for?" she asks, looking at a box, around four inches square, with a metal tracery in a Rennie Macintosh design which complements the mirror she'd got and the bedframe.
"It's for your watch, and necklace," Castle says, a little embarrassed. Beckett looks at the box.
"It's beautiful," she says softly. "I love it."
She opens the box to reveal the padded base of the interior, lifts her watch off the nightstand and places it reverently within. Her necklace is removed and put beside it, equally carefully. She gazes down at them for some several seconds, silent, shoulders shivering.
"They… I wouldn't have them, if it wasn't for you. You picked them up – you went back to get them, and you got them mended, and you gave me them back. Now you've given me somewhere to keep them safe." Her voice cracks. "You kept me safe. You warned me and so I got time to hide in the bath and you got me out and came to the hospital and then you took me into your home and kept me safe…" She dissolves under his eyes. He takes the box from her and puts it out the way, then cuddles her into his chest, pulls the comforter up over them and simply holds her.
She curls into him, an arm around his midriff, her face turned to his skin, resting against him. "You saved everything that mattered, Castle."
"I did, didn't I?" Castle murmurs, clasping her tighter. "Here it is."
"Yeah." She presses closer and holds him tightly in response. "Right here. 'S all I need." She kisses him before that fully sinks in.
"You're what matters, not the ring or the watch. They're just symbols. Memories." She stops, for a brief moment. "And they do matter. Memories are important." Castle nods above her dark head, unseen. "But reality – life – matters more." Another pause, a deep, scraping breath. "You're reality. There all the time. When it really mattered, you were there. Every minute."
"Count on it," he murmurs, but he doesn't think she hears.
"Just in time. We might not have had any time at all." She turns her face up and looks straight at him. "So let's not waste any more time." Beckett-briskness is abruptly back. She slithers over and up his body and conquers his mouth without a pause. That takes remarkably little time, but lasts much longer. Eventually a pause for breath is taken.
"Let's not," he purrs, and conquers in return. For the first time he's free and able to roll her over to her back and rise over her as, for a fortnight, she's risen above him, and then slide into the warm wet welcome of her body. No more wasting time apart, when they can be together like this.
Not every minute, not all the time: it's too new and too fragile and too intense; they'd burn up in it and crash in flames. Of course there will be arguments and rows and disagreements and fights: times when one or other walks away to find space and cool off alone for a while; times when they simply need to be apart; even times when one or other needs solitude simply because they do. Then, later, there will be making up and coming back and being together again. Little by little, bit by bit, they'll become closer together. He hasn't lost her, he's found her: according to her own words, he's saved her. They know how they each feel.
Now, though, rather than becoming closer together, they should come together in the most direct of ways. Castle stops thinking, and starts acting, very firmly in the here and now. Specifically, that he and Beckett should come together, right here, right now. He essays a slow slide, then another, smooth movements that cause her fingers to lock into his back and pressure him to move faster, stronger strokes, more forceful. No need to take such care, as if she'd break, as he's had to – especially as she wouldn't take care. He mimics the movement of his body with his mouth on hers, moves fingers between them and no time at all is wasted as they come together.
"I don't want to go home," Castle grumps, some time later.
"I don't want to be late for work tomorrow," Beckett points out. "I need to sleep. It's late. You need to be home for your family."
Castle cuddles up, unwilling to leave just yet, and strokes over her soft skin, not quite suggestively. "You can go to sleep, and I'll go then."
"You'll fall asleep too. You're halfway there." Um. Yeah. She might have a point there. It's a very comfortable bed, and it's got his very comforting Beckett-bear in it, in his arms. He grumbles wordlessly, but drags himself away to clean up. Beckett stays cosily in bed, eyes shut. She opens one eye – slightly – when he reappears, and then both in a clear ogle as he dresses.
"Checking me out, Beckett?"
"Mmmm...no. Making sure you don't leave your socks behind." How unkind. He needs his socks to keep his toes warm. Since he can't keep them warm by tucking them up to Beckett. Humph.
"Checking me out," he repeats smugly. Beckett half-heartedly tugs a pillow towards her, but can't be bothered to muster the energy to throw it at him. He leans down and kisses her thoroughly. Her hands lock round the back of his neck. He's already kneeling down to kiss her more deeply when he realises that he is supposed to be leaving. There is a noticeable reluctance in her release of him.
"Don't want to go."
"You have to go." She opens her sleepy eyes a little further. "Don't want you to go, but you have to."
"Yeah…" he drags out. "I just wanted to spend a little more time with you."
"We got plenty of time, Castle. All the time in the world." She sits up and hugs him. "See you tomorrow."
"Till tomorrow."
Tomorrow arrives, and Castle falls out of his unhappily empty bed, through the equally solo shower, and achieves breakfast and relocation to the precinct without ever quite losing the feeling that he's been left alone. She didn't even give him a key to her apartment, he realises, miserably. He wanders dispiritedly into the bullpen bearing coffee and a bear claw, and finds Beckett at her desk.
"Hey, Castle."
"Hey."
The coffee and bear claw are despatched in short order, with some desultory conversation around the cases and the complete unfairness of not being allowed out even though she is absolutely fine and there is no problem at all with her ribs. A short silence follows.
"Can we talk?" Beckett asks. Oh God. That's never a good phrase. But she doesn't look tense, nor are there any of the many little female tells which might precede a Dear John – or Dear Rick – conversation. It's still not relaxing.
"Sure."
"Not here. C'mon." She leads him back to the elevator and out of the precinct, to a convenient coffee shop, buys the coffees before he can (humph) and sits them down at a small corner table. And then she interlinks one hand with his, slips the other into her jacket and brings out a small package, beautifully wrapped. She pushes it across the table to land in front of him. He looks, not at the package, but at her. She looks back, inscrutably, hand still in his, fingers a little tighter than a second ago. Aha. This matters.
"What's this?" But he thinks he might already know.
"Open it and you'll find out," she says mischievously. She's obviously not going to say anything more. No clues. He starts to unwrap it. Well, he tries to. Beckett is clearly a subscriber to the thorough school of wrapping. Every last edge of the decorative paper is Scotch-taped within – or more accurately beyond – an inch of its life.
"Can I borrow your pocket-knife?" Beckett extracts it, slides it over, and wraps both hands round her coffee mug, watching with sardonic amusement as he needs both hands to open it, very cautiously. Finally he uncovers a smallish box. He examines the leather exterior.
"Open it," Beckett commands. He pouts at her.
"My gift," he says possessively. "I'll open it in my own good time." He doesn't understand the swift laughter rising in Beckett's eyes, nor her less-than muffled gurgles. She's watching his face with bright, happy eyes. His fingers deftly trip the catch and he looks into the box.
Oh. Ohhh. Oh oh oh.
She hadn't forgotten. It's a set of keys, obviously for her apartment, on a keychain, with a tiny fob watch – ticking – on the end. He stares at it, speechless, taking her hands into his. "Wow," is all he manages, blinking back a little unmanly dampness.
After a little minute he takes it out and simply gazes on it. "It's… it's great." Words, his forte, have gone missing. "Why a watch?"
"Because you gave me time, Castle. Time to live… and time to love."
Thank you to all readers and reviewers. There will be a (very) short epilogue tomorrow, so I haven't tagged this as complete yet. I appreciate all the comments and support.