Author's Note: The last morning at the Hamptons.

The Best-Laid Plans

Chapter 13

Kate had expected–oh fine, hoped–that having sex with Castle one more time–the last time–would at least keep Castle from invading her dreams. But she was wrong. She was sated enough that she didn't have an erotic dream about Castle but she decided that the sex dreams were better, easier to deal with, than the non-sexy dreams, where she just dreamed about being with him. Dreamed about being held and lo–oh no no no no, she cut off the word before it could form. No, absolutely not, she was not–could not imagine any such thing.

And it wasn't real, was just a dream, no more consequential than dreaming about being able to fly like Superman or something.

Just a dream, that was all, and dreams were not the same as reality.

As per her habit, it was still early, just a little past 7 and there was certainly no need to be awake so early even if she did need to pack–what little she had to pack–before she left but there was no real rush on that. But she was leery about even trying to go back to sleep because of what her traitorous subconscious mind might decide to dream about this time and she wasn't very good at falling back asleep after she'd already woken up as it was.

Instead, it occurred to her that she might want to hurry up and get downstairs to make herself some coffee so she could have her coffee and then return upstairs before Castle woke up. If yesterday was any sign, she and Castle would likely have some little time alone before Alexis woke up and that, she couldn't bring herself to risk. Not with the way she'd fled last night and the way he'd seemed like he was going to try to talk, for real, about what was happening between them. She tried to tell herself that maybe, after all, he'd only been about to tell her that it was only about the sex for him–but she didn't believe that. That wasn't what had been in his tone, in his expression. No, she was afraid–she was terrified–that he would try to tell her he wanted more and she wasn't sure she could stand that. Not when she knew what her answer would be–had to be.

Because she was even more afraid that if she actually allowed him to say any such thing, she would give in to this stupid susceptibility to him that seemed to have infected her and allow herself to be swept up in him, in the passion that burned so brightly and hotly between them–only to then have to watch as the relationship foundered and failed and she lost even the friendship, the partnership, that they'd managed to forge in the last year. No, oh no, she didn't want that.

It would be much better–safer–not to give him an opening, let whatever he thought he felt fade, as she was sure it would with time.

With that decided, she made quick work of her morning ablutions, getting dressed in jeans and a light summer shirt, somewhat closer to her usual outfit in the City. Better to start now with becoming, well, Detective Beckett again, not the more laid-back vacation self she had been the last couple days.

The house was still quiet when she made her way downstairs, not even a sound of either Alexis or Castle stirring behind either of their doors, not that she tried to listen. Or okay, fine, not that she tried to listen outside of Alexis's door. Outside of Castle's–well, it was only for a few seconds, really!

Once downstairs, she managed to get Castle's futuristic coffee machine working and spent the minutes until the coffee finished percolating looking out over the ocean and what looked to be another picture-perfect day. She sternly did not allow herself to so much as glance in the direction of Castle's office. Didn't want to start the mental film reel of images from last night, the way he'd looked, the way he'd touched her–she cut off the thought, the memories. No, no, she could not think about it now, could not dwell on the memories.

Fortunately for her, the coffee didn't take long to be ready and she poured herself one cup, finishing it quickly and then poured herself another that she retreated upstairs with. (Not that she was a monster before her first cup, Castle. She only loved coffee, which was a perfectly normal thing, and it wasn't as if he could talk since he loved coffee as much as she did.)

And why was she carrying on an internal dialogue with Castle in her own mind anyway?

Back in the safety of her room, she made a production out of packing and organizing the things she'd brought with her for the weekend, packing and repacking with as much care as if she were going to be judged in a contest for neat packing, before moving on to neaten up the room until it looked almost in pristine, untouched condition, aside from her own duffel sitting in the corner. That done, she admired the view outside the window, again, then double-checked the packing of her duffel, and then neatened her room all over again and in general, dawdled in the room in high-minded fortitude–okay, fine, so it was more like abject cowardice but couldn't she try to retain at least a shred of dignity in her own thoughts–until she heard the tell-tale sounds of doors being opened and the bathrooms being used that indicated that Castle and Alexis were awake.

It was only then that she finally ventured back outside of her room–not winning any points for bravery but she ignored the commentary–and went downstairs along with her now-empty mug.

She found Castle in the kitchen, no sign of Alexis, and for a split second, almost considered turning right back around–to hell with bravery–but then he looked up and saw her, giving her a small smile of greeting. "Good morning, Beckett."

"Morning," she returned, trying but not quite managing to hold his gaze because at that moment, all she could remember was that the last time she'd seen him, just hours ago, he'd been shirtless because they had just–she cut off the thought.

A silence fell as neither of them said anything more and she found a question about how his writing was going on the tip of her tongue before she belatedly realized that might seem like a reference to last night and fell back on the quintessential safe subject. "It looks like another beautiful day. It's really too bad that it's the last day."

Could she sound any more asinine?

"Yeah," he agreed after a moment. "As much as the city is home, after a weekend out here, it's always a little hard to go back."

"It sucks being a responsible grown-up sometimes, doesn't it?" she managed lightly.

He gave a little laugh. "It really does."

"I guess that's why you spend so much of your time avoiding acting like a responsible grown-up," she teased.

"Nice deducing. You could be a detective," he flipped back.

She grinned and he returned the smile and for a moment, it was almost like normal between them, a return to their usual banter. She liked their banter, liked how quick-witted he was, how fun he was to talk to.

But the thought only reminded her of what she could not allow herself to have and she hurriedly glanced away. "So Alexis is up and about. What were you thinking of making for breakfast and is there anything I can do to help?"

"You're a guest; you don't have to help."

She gave him a look. "I might be a guest but I'm not helpless either. Besides, I might get bored just standing around with nothing to do." She doubted it since she'd learned that watching Castle cook, seeing his deftness, was surprisingly (or not so surprisingly) attractive but it was also dangerous.

He made a little face. "Well, if you put it that way, can you rinse and cut up the fruit?"

"Sure, just point me to it."

He provided her with a cutting board and a knife along with a half of a watermelon, some peaches, blueberries, and strawberries.

She started to work, careful to keep her eyes and her attention on her task rather than on what Castle was doing behind her.

They had only worked in silence for a few minutes before Alexis appeared. "Morning, Dad, Kate," she greeted them, her tone a little subdued and without a smile.

"Morning, Alexis. Did you sleep well?" Kate asked and then felt herself flushing as it belatedly occurred to her to wonder if Alexis might have overheard something last night. She and Castle had both been relatively quiet but… And was that why Alexis wasn't smiling? Oh god.

Alexis managed a faint smile. "Yes, fine, thanks, Kate."

Kate relaxed marginally. It didn't seem as if Alexis had overheard anything.

"Morning, pumpkin," Castle interjected. "Beckett and I were just agreeing that it's too bad we have to leave today. You still have school but you know, we could come back here for a few days once your school gets out and before you need to leave for Princeton. You'll have some time."

Alexis gave her dad a somewhat forced smile. "Maybe we can but it's not that."

Oh, that didn't sound good. Kate tensed again.

Castle abandoned his task to move around the counter towards Alexis. "Then what is it?"

Alexis hesitated.

"Alexis?" Castle prompted again, gently.

The girl made a face, sighing a little. "It's Mom," she said rather flatly.

Oh. Meredith. Kate found herself almost wishing Alexis had overheard something last night. As awkward and mortifying as that would have been, at least Alexis wouldn't have been wounded by it, unlike whatever Meredith had done.

Castle opened his mouth, no doubt to ask what Meredith had done, but before he could, Alexis pulled her phone out of her pocket and after a moment, handed it to him. "She sent me that. Late last night so I just saw it now."

Castle glanced at the screen, a small frown forming between his eyes, as he put his arm around his daughter's shoulders. "Sweetie, your mom means well."

What had Meredith done? Kate was debating if she should claim a need to go to the bathroom or just leave, give Castle and Alexis some privacy since whatever Meredith had done, this was a family thing and she was just an interloper. But before she could decide to do so, Alexis glanced towards Kate. "You might as well show Kate too, Dad. It's hardly a secret and it's not like Kate hasn't met Mom."

"Oh no, Alexis, really, I don't…" Kate started to demur.

Castle studied Alexis for a moment before holding his arm out, turning Alexis's phone screen towards her. Kate didn't accept the phone, felt that would be going too far, but she did allow herself a quick glance at the screen. It was just a picture, one of Meredith wearing a party dress and standing on what appeared to be a terrace, striking a pose with a cocktail glass up in a toast. What was worse was that from even her quick glance, Kate could see that the picture was all Meredith had sent. There had been no more personal words, not a syllable to indicate that Meredith had originally been supposed to spend this weekend with her daughter if Meredith hadn't decided that this party, wherever she was right now, was more important than seeing her own daughter.

Kate tried not to wince visibly, deciding that she really didn't like Meredith. "Oh," was all she could say, lamely. She wasn't sure if Alexis knew that Castle had told Kate that Meredith was supposed to have visited this weekend or not but either way, what could she really say? She couldn't say anything to criticize Meredith to Alexis and wasn't sure if an apology or anything would be appropriate.

Alexis grimaced as she took her phone back, putting it in her pocket. "I don't even know why I care," she mumbled, not quite under her breath. "It's just Mom, doing her own thing, like always."

Castle briefly shut his eyes, his lips tightening, before he opened his eyes and Kate saw the way he forcibly smoothed his expression out before he put his finger under Alexis's chin and met his daughter's eyes. "You know your mom loves you," he told her gently.

"Yeah, Dad, I know," the girl sighed a little. "And I love her too but sometimes I also get annoyed at her."

"Well, I can't blame you for that," he agreed. "Sometimes, parents are annoying. I get annoyed at Grams sometimes and I know you get annoyed at me too, even though I am a paternal paragon," he added, some gentle humor entering his voice.

It succeeded as Alexis relaxed into a smile. "I don't know if I'd go that far but you are my favorite dad."

"You're too kind since I am your only dad," he returned dryly.

Alexis smirked at him but rested her head on his shoulder in a trusting way that belied her teasing words.

Kate forcibly averted her eyes, pretending to be focused on the fruit again in an attempt to give them some privacy, as she tried to quell the warmth blossoming inside her, along with something like a pinch of regret. It really was so hard to resist Castle when he was in his dad mode but she'd already known that he was a very good dad so she didn't know why seeing yet more evidence of it should affect her so much now.

There was a brief silence in which Kate guessed that Castle was hugging Alexis and then he spoke, his voice still a little milder than usual, "Now, pumpkin, if you don't mind, could you do me a favor and throw all the beach towels we've used this weekend into the laundry so we can get that started?"

"Sure, Dad," Alexis agreed readily and left.

Castle waited just until he could be sure Alexis was out of earshot and then burst out, his voice low but forceful, "Damn it!" He propped both his hands on the edge of the counter, gripping it, the tension in his frame evident–and for once, Kate was too concerned over his emotional state to notice the way the muscles in his arms flexed.

She hesitated, not quite sure what to do but needing to do something. Apparently, she couldn't see Castle upset and not want to help. What could she say? But then on a sudden impulse, she offered, "You want the knife? I think you need to be chopping something up into small pieces more than I do right now."

He jerked his head up to look at her and it occurred to her that for a moment, he might have forgotten about her presence entirely. She felt a quick flicker of nerves that she'd miscalculated, said something wrong. But then he released a breath that was something like a laugh, his lips easing. "Good call, I'll take you up on that."

She relaxed, gave him a small smile as he moved back around the counter and accepted the large knife, their fingers brushing. He pulled the watermelon towards him and she stepped back, giving him some space, as he brought the knife down with a forceful thwack, neatly halving the watermelon, and then went on, cutting the watermelon not just into slices but into smaller squares as if for a fruit salad, using rather more force than was necessary.

She waited until he was done, the watermelon not just sliced but slaughtered, before she ventured, "I guess the watermelon really annoyed you."

He huffed a laugh. "Yeah, the watermelon had it coming."

He moved to throw the watermelon rinds away and wash his hands, pausing after he did so. "You know," he began almost conversationally, "what really gets to me is that knowing Meredith, she probably thought sending the picture was a nice thing to do, showing Alexis she's thinking about her and all that."

Kate wasn't sure what to say to this. It didn't exactly paint Meredith in the best light–utterly tactless, at best–but then again, what good way was there to paint Meredith in this?

"She does mean well," he went on, "she just has this complete inability to ever see things from anyone else's perspective so she'd never understand why Alexis might not react well to her sending such a picture."

"I'm sorry," was all she could say, lamely. "Will Alexis be okay?"

"Yeah, I think so." He grimaced. "As you know, Alexis is used to this sort of thing from Meredith so she generally takes it in stride."

"Will you be okay?"

"Me?" he blinked at her as if it had never occurred to him to wonder at how he would be affected by Meredith. He managed a credible attempt at one of his usual smirks. "Oh, you know me, water off a duck's back, as they say." His smirk faded, his lips twisting a little. "Besides, I already divorced her. Not much more I can do and at least, she's safely across the country."

Being across the country hadn't prevented Meredith from hurting Alexis and by extension, Castle, but Kate decided not to point that out. Castle already knew it and besides, they couldn't exactly talk about it more now with Alexis soon to return, even if Castle seemed inclined to talk more, which he didn't.

He shook himself a little and visibly cleared his expression. "Anyway, with Alexis up, I should get a move on making breakfast. Help yourself to more coffee."

With that, conversation was over as Castle busied himself making pancakes, Kate saw–or not just pancakes, since Alexis brightened up when she returned and immediately guessed, "Strawberry happy-face pancakes, Dad?"

He feigned confusion. "Is there any other kind?"

Alexis laughed and Kate saw the relief that flitted quickly across Castle's expression before he turned back to the pancakes–ahem, the strawberry happy-face pancakes, whatever those were.

Strawberry happy-face pancakes proved to be, well, just that, with Castle literally forming two eyes and a smile for the pancake out of small slices of strawberry, a single blueberry for a nose, with whip cream forming "hair." It was possibly the cutest food item Kate had seen in a long time and she had to grin when Castle placed her plate in front of her.

"A work of art," she quipped. "Thanks, Castle."

He placed plates of similarly-decorated happy face pancakes in front of Alexis and his own place before joining them at the table. With the help of the happy-face pancakes–it would have taken a heart of stone not to feel more cheerful when faced with them–breakfast proved to be a merry meal, mostly thanks to Castle, who spent most of it recounting funny stories about Martha and her various shows over the years until Alexis was flushed and breathless with laughter.

After breakfast was finished and cleared away, Kate took the first steps towards leaving and Castle pasted on a theatrical pout before conceding that he and Alexis would also be heading out soon, once they straightened up the house a little more.

At Alexis's urging, Kate allowed Castle to make a "display of manly strength" (his words–at which both Kate and Alexis had snorted) and carry her duffel downstairs and out to her car.

This time, at least, Kate wasn't surprised when Alexis gave her a hug. "This was a lot of fun, Kate. Thanks for coming."

"I had a great time. Thanks for having me."

Alexis stepped back and Kate turned to Castle, who was shifting his weight a little. There was a pause as she and Castle just looked at each other, her brain abruptly blanking on anything to say.

"Have a good drive back to the city," he offered.

"Yeah, thanks. See you in the precinct?" She inwardly writhed. This was awkward and she knew Alexis noticed (the village idiot would have noticed and Alexis was far from that).

"Sure thing."

After spending a weekend with him and with, well, everything, it didn't feel right to just leave with only a stark word of goodbye, felt like something more was necessary. For a horrifying second, Kate considered shaking his hand before sanity reasserted itself–stupid idea, it would only make things worse. Oh, screw it. She stepped in and gave Castle a quick half-hug, not lingering, but it was just enough to catch a quick whiff of his familiar scent, get a brief impression of his warmth, his height, his strength. Just enough for her nipples to tighten in automatic reaction.

And then she hurriedly stepped back, hoping the color in her cheeks would be written off as from the sun. "Bye, Castle." She turned back to Alexis with a more natural smile. "In case I don't see you before, good luck at Princeton and have fun."

Alexis's smile brightened. "Thanks, Kate."

With that, Kate slid into her car, lowering her window for a last smile and a wave, which both Castle and Alexis returned, and then she left, backing her car out of the driveway. The proverbial clock had struck twelve, the carriage had turned back into a pumpkin, and it was back to reality for her. A reality where she and Castle did not–could not–belong together.

Castle turned back from watching Beckett's car vanish out of sight only to be pinned by Alexis's raised eyebrows and far-too-knowing, and inquisitive, gaze. "What?" he tried for ignorance.

Alexis huffed a little. "Da-ad," she drew the word out.

He pasted on an expression of exaggerated dignity. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Alexis rolled her eyes. And he decided that maybe Beckett spending so much time with Alexis this weekend and getting along with her so well wasn't quite as delightful as he'd thought if Alexis was going to be picking up Beckett's eye roll. "Da-ad, what was that between you and Kate just now? Are you two…"

For one of the few times in Alexis's life, he considered lying to her, telling her it was nothing, but force of habit–and, fine, burgeoning, tentative hope–had him admitting after a moment, "I don't know. We're friends and as for anything more… maybe. Just not now, not yet." That was as much candor as he could allow himself with his daughter–and somewhat pathetically, had the benefit of being (mostly) true.

Alexis relaxed into a smile, sliding her arm around him. "Okay, well, for what it's worth, I like Kate so if you do decide to get together, I approve."

He gave a soft laugh as they turned to head back into the house. "Are you giving us your blessing?" he joked–only for his heart to squeeze in his chest at the thought of what that phrase usually referred to, a desperate wish that someday, he and Beckett might actually want Alexis's blessing (and Jim Beckett's) for real.

"Yes," Alexis answered, shooting him a rather cheeky smirk. "You have my permission to date Kate."

He nudged her. "Thank you," he returned dryly. "That clears everything up."

He only wished. But Alexis's approval, as valued as it was, was the least complicated thing about his relationship with Beckett right now. He teasingly pushed her into the house. "Come on, you, we'd better get started on the clean up so we can head out soon ourselves, beat some of the traffic."

There wasn't that much to do since he would be returning to the Hamptons at some point in the next month or so, even if only for a few days, as he usually did, whether with Alexis or not, but he did need to pack up some of the contents of the fridge, all that needed to be finished sooner rather than later, and put it into an icebox to bring back to the city with them. By now, he and Alexis had their little routine of what they needed to clean and neaten up after their first visit down to an art of sorts, and he was thankful for it as the mindless tasks allowed him plenty of time to think, not to say brood, over Beckett and this weekend.

It had been a great–even incredible–weekend and that was before last night. He'd really, really loved seeing Beckett making herself at home in his house, dressed so casually, making herself coffee in the morning. Loved the family picture the three of them made. Loved the way Beckett and Alexis got along, even if they had spent entirely too much time ganging up on him–but since seeing Beckett and Alexis smile were possibly his two favorite things in the world, he couldn't muster up any complaints. He would happily be the target of their teasing for the rest of his life if it meant he could hear the mingled sound of their laughter, see their smiles.

So yes, he'd loved this whole weekend getaway with the two people he loved the most. What more could he possibly want, aside from being with Beckett for real, having Beckett here as an open, acknowledged part of the family?

And he had definitely loved seeing Beckett in a swimsuit, the test to his self-control notwithstanding.

He could have done without the interruption from his fan at brunch yesterday but at least, thankfully, Beckett hadn't seemed to mind it. (He almost wished she had minded it, at least to the point of displaying some jealousy over how flirtatious those girls had been, but she hadn't. Not that he ever wanted her to be irritated and not that she had any reason to feel jealous over him, not ever again.)

And then last night. Oh god, last night. The hottest night of his life (again) and he was sure he would never again be able to look at the couch in his office here without thinking about Beckett and the way she'd looked, the things she'd done with her hands and her mouth and her tongue… He cut off the thought before his susceptible body could react to the memories.

But then afterwards, for the first time, he'd tried to at least broach the subject of what they were doing–it had been three times now. Surely she'd seen, surely she knew by now, that the lust between them wasn't going away? And he could have sworn he'd seen something, something warmer than friendship, in her eyes, in her smiles, over the weekend.

And she'd cut him off–again. Reduced the amazing, mind-blowing sex to a vacation fling and nothing more. Not a beginning or a continuation or anything.

It had hurt, but before the sting could linger for long, she had kissed him and, well, he wasn't sure it was possible to feel hurt or sad or any negative emotion while kissing Beckett. Especially because the kiss had been soft, almost–dare he say it–tender and had gone a long way towards soothing his hurt.

The way she'd left so quickly had bothered him, left a lingering trace of hurt even overnight but then Meredith's characteristically insensitive little stunt had effectively distracted him, taken over his emotions, pushing out anything else.

But oddly, with Alexis thankfully cheerful again, something about having momentarily forgotten about the whole situation with Beckett had somehow cleared his thoughts now that the haze of emotion had lifted.

Beckett's words had been discouraging, yes, but then again, this was Beckett, and with Beckett, her words were never the end of the story, not really. She wasn't the sort to spill all her emotions or wear her heart on her sleeve or anything. She was reserved, not to say defensive, didn't let people in. With Beckett, it was more about not only what she did but reading between the lines of what she said, finding the nuances in her expression, her actions.

Her words had been flippant but her tone hadn't been, he remembered that. And her expression had been almost… panicked, flustered, not at all flippant. Her kiss had certainly not been flippant. Then, there had been the way she'd reacted to the Meredith thing, both with Alexis but also, with himself, the way she'd tried, first by suggesting he take his frustration out on the innocent watermelon and after that. She'd just… cared. Not overtly, not really, but it had been in everything she did, in her look, in her tone. He might chalk it up to simply being friends, which they were, but combined with everything else… well, maybe he was being foolishly optimistic but he couldn't eradicate the hope.

Hope that was strengthened by the very awkwardness of their parting just now because Kate Beckett didn't get flustered so obviously often and she wouldn't get flustered over trifles, either. So if she was flustered, then there was something there for her to feel flustered about.

She'd spent the weekend with him and his daughter; she cared about him and his daughter. She'd had sex with him, again, when he was sure that after the second time, she had (again) promised herself that would be the end of it. It wasn't a lot but it was enough for him to hope, with a hope that was stronger than ever before.

~To be continued…~

A/N 2: Thank you, as always, for reading and reviewing.