WORTH WORKING FOR
CHAPTER FOURTEEN


It isn't her alarm that wakes her on Christmas morning, as is typical, but the soft press of lips on the back of her neck and a knee nudging between hers. She burrows deeper under the sinfully soft sheets, unintentionally wiggling her ass as she does, and she hears a grunt behind her, feels a nip on her shoulder.

"How much time do we have?"

The words are muffled against her skin, and judging by the hand that wanders down her torso and the slow roll of his hips against hers, the answer will do nothing to discourage Rick from greeting her properly this morning.

Still, she stretches to grab her phone, and smiles when she sees the time. She usually hates waking up almost an hour before her alarm goes off...but today, she doesn't mind.

"I have something for you," he murmurs a short time later, pulling back from their deep, lazy kiss.

She palms the back of his head and brings his mouth back to hers, lifts her hips into his as he tries to get up. "Already gave me something," she teases, nipping his bottom lip.

He chuckles, and he slides his hand down to her thigh and untangles it from around his hips. "Something else. Something for you to open – okay, you know what I mean," he adds when she smirks.

She draws her bottom lip between her teeth as he pushes himself off the bed, and she follows him with her eyes, her gaze locked on his ass. He steps into the living room, and she sits up, pulls the covers over her lap, and raises her brows when he returns with a small box.

"I didn't get you anything," she admits, holding the box towards him. It honestly hadn't crossed her mind, and even if it had, she was a bit preoccupied by the sniper case – and fallout – in the past week. Besides, she has no idea what to get him anyway.

What do you get your baby daddy, who you only just began sort-of-dating, who can buy anything he wants? A really nice scarf?

He squeezes her knee in reassurance. "And you don't have to. If it makes you feel better, consider it something that I saw and wanted to get for you, and it just happens to be Christmas."

She rolls her eyes, but she slides her finger under the tape anyway, and pulls the wrapping paper off. She glances at him before she lifts the lid on the box, notices nerves reflected in his gaze.

Her breath catches in her throat when she sees a long, gold chain, with her mother's ring on it. She brings her fist to the center of her chest out of habit, and Rick covers her hand with his.

"I know what the ring means to you," he says quietly, lacing his fingers through hers and bringing it into his lap. "I thought your chain looked like it had seen better days, and some of the links were worn, so I got you a new one."

She just blinks, words eluding her.

"That being said, I still have the old one. So if it's special, or sentimental, or if I overstepped, I'll return this one. I'll have the other cleaned, fixed, whate-"

Kate leans forward and presses her mouth to his, cutting him off, and she cups his jaw in her free hand, feels him relax under her touch.

"I've had that chain since I started wearing the ring thirteen years ago," she explains quietly. Rick opens his mouth to respond, and she brushes her lips against his again. "I've needed a new one for a while, just haven't been able to bring myself to buy one. It's perfect, Rick. Thank you."

Rick breathes a sigh of relief. "Good."

She starts to lean forward, wanting to kiss him again, maybe more. But her phone blares before she has a chance, and she groans and drops her forehead to his shoulder. "Damn."

He chuckles and rubs his hands across her bare back. "Maybe we can shower together," he teases, his voice a low husk.

She lifts her head and smirks. "Twist my arm."


"Katherine Beckett, you have a lot of explaining to do."

Kate winces at the sound of her best friend's voice over her phone. She's only briefly talked to Lanie in the past week, and it was only to check in with her after the sniper case. But she's been so caught up with Rick, and now work again, that she hasn't spoken to her in several days.

She glances at her caller ID, which really, she should've done in the first place. Maybe she could've prepared herself for Lanie's wrath.

"Aren't you off today?" she asks, leaning back in her chair. "Why are you calling from the morgue?"

Lanie tuts, and Kate can almost see her raised eyebrow. "Perlmutter got pneumonia. This isn't about me, Beckett. Why did I have to hear from Javi that you and Rick were canoodling in the break room?"

Kate's cheeks flush. "We weren't canoodling," she says quietly, not wanting to be overheard.

"Uh huh. Way he tells it, he caught you two making out."

"Kissing," she clarifies. "He just happened to come in when we were kissing."

"Okay, fine, kissing. So, again, I ask: why did I hear it from him, and not you?"

"I-" Kate glances towards the conference room, and she smiles when she spots Rick through the window, talking to Hastings as the young officer fills a plate with a large serving of food.

Rick surprised her less than an hour ago, calling to inform her that he was bringing by some food, and needed to know how many people were working. She'd expected several pizzas, or perhaps takeout, but instead, he'd arrived with a whole homemade Christmas feast.

She really needs to get him something; if not an official Christmas present, then something to show her gratitude for his generosity.

"Beckett!"

She jumps at the loud bark of her name in her ear, and she turns her attention back to Lanie. "Sorry, I was-"

"Thinking about baby daddy?" Lanie jokes. "Speaking of, what's your status? You let him kiss you at work, that's not a small thing."

"No," she agrees, "it's not." Lanie's right; the only other person she kissed at the precinct was Will, and even then, it was a brief, comforting kiss in the back stairwell when she couldn't contain her emotions over a case that didn't end well.

Not in full view of the bullpen, where anyone could see.

"You guys done it?" Lanie asks.

Kate smirks. "You mean aside from how I got in my current predicament? Did you forget how the birds and the bees work, Doctor Parish?" she jokes, emphasizing her friend's title.

"You're such a pain in the ass."

"I know." She looks around to make sure Rick is still in the conference room, and nobody's within earshot, and lowers her voice. "Yes."

"Oh my God! And?"

"Amazing," she admits, her cheeks flushing. "Even better than I remembered."

"Girl! Oh, hang on." Lanie keeps talking, but her voice is muffled, like she's covering the receiver. After just a few seconds, her voice becomes clear again. "I gotta go, I just got a delivery for the 54th. We'll catch up later."

Kate grins. "Okay. Bye." She jumps when she feels a hand on her shoulder, and she looks up to see Rick behind her, mug in his hand. "Is that for me?" she asks, motioning to the mug.

He sets it on her desk and sits down. "Of course. Did you know that Hastings is dating a writer? Pretty cool, huh?"

"Yeah, I met him during that superhero case a couple months ago," she explains, taking a long sip of coffee. "I'll tell you more about that later. Thank you for this," she adds, lifting the mug, "and for the food. Except that people are gonna talk about it for days, and anyone who isn't here will complain."

"Well, if there aren't any leftovers, I'll be happy to make another feast." He leans his elbow on her desk. "Who were you talking to? Did you get a body?"

"No, Lanie just wanted to touch base on something." She shifts her gaze from his, not wanting to admit what the 'something' was. She's about to suggest that they grab a cold case to work on, but before she can, her phone rings again, this time from dispatch.

She takes down the address and stands, grabs her coat from the back of her chair. "Now I got a body."

He follows her up and wraps his scarf around his neck. "I'll come with you."

She pauses. "You can't just come to a crime scene."

"We had this conversation last week, Kate. I'll just follow you otherwise."

"This is a probably domestic issue, not a sniper serial killer," she argues. "I can't just let a civilian tag along. At the very least, there's paperwork you have to sign. Waivers, stuff like that."

He shrugs. "Then I'll drive separately and stay outside of the scene. I want to come along, Kate. Because I want to be with you, yes, but also to watch you work."

She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Fine. You can come with me. But you're still staying outside of the scene."


"Shit," Kate gasps, her arm draped over her forehead, chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. "Oh my God."

Rick chuckles as he trails his mouth up her body, paying special attention to the scar on her chest before shifting so he's hovering over her. He props himself on an elbow and threads his fingers through her hair. "Watching you work was sexy," he says with a shrug.

She rolls her eyes, about the only body part she can move after the very thorough round she was just treated to. "I'm not sure how my day was that much of a turn on," she jokes. "One call, and it was the most open-and-shut case I've had in months. I didn't even have to interrogate the guy."

"Probably good. I might have spontaneously combusted if I had to watch you go all domineering on someone's ass." He brushes a soft kiss across her lips. "Still, the way you commanded the scene? That was hot." He smirks. "This might have unlocked a new kink," he teases.

She snorts. "Fantastic."

He shifts to his side and props his head on his elbow. "Seriously, though, thanks for letting me tag along. It helped me see the reality of the job." He brushes the back of his hand across her still mostly-flat belly. "Kinda wish someone else had actually cuffed the guy, though."

She mirrors his pose. "Why?"

"Because, what if something went wrong? If he fought back, or hurt you in some way?"

Oh.

She covers his hand with hers and squeezes before sitting up and leaning against the headboard. "Things like that rarely happen," she assures him. "And even if they did, I can't just not arrest people. It's part of my job." When Rick follows her to the headboard, she presses her palm to his cheek and looks into his worried gaze. "But I promise, I'll be careful. If we're arresting someone who's being especially unruly, I'll have someone else put on the cuffs. How's that?"

Rick clenches his jaw. "I don't want anything to happen to you or our baby, Kate."

"You think I do?" she snaps. "You think I enjoyed being scared of my own shadow last week, of thinking I had another damn sniper coming after me?"

His eyes flash at the word "another," but she ignores it. Now isn't the time.

"I've been a cop for a decade, Rick. And a detective for most of that. I don't even know how many people I've arrested. But I have good instincts and judgment, so trust me when I say I won't intentionally put our kid in danger." She shifts so she's facing him. "You've seen me work two cases. Two. And one of them was unusually bad. That doesn't give you the right to tell me how to do my job."

Rick stares at her for several seconds, his gaze eventually softening. "You're right," he finally says, nodding. "I worry about your safety and well-being, but you're right. You know what you're doing." He reaches out a hand and cups her knee through the duvet. "Sorry. This kid is bringing out an overprotective side of me that I didn't know I had."

Kate allows the corner of her mouth to quirk. "Try having raging hormones along with it," she jokes, squeezing his hand.

"No thank you." He smiles to show that he's teasing, then grows serious again. "We're good?"

She nods. "We're good."


Not for the first time in the past week – or even today – Kate wonders what the hell she was thinking by agreeing to go to Rick's New Year's party. Nothing in her closet had seemed worthy of the semi-formal-attired theme, so she'd enlisted Lanie's help on a last-minute shopping trip.

Fast forward to tonight, with her new lingerie set on underneath one of the two dresses she'd purchased, and she's almost shaking with nerves.

This is ridiculous, she tells herself in the elevator. You're a smart, confident woman. You're not new to socializing with strangers. There is no reason to be this nervous.

Still, she is.

This is her first foray into Rick's world.

Even before that fateful night at his bar, she'd known of him, of his infamous playboy personality and bachelor life. He's proven to be the opposite, hasn't even looked at another woman with any romantic interest as far as she knows. He's never said anything to her, anyway, and he's been absent from Page Six.

Not that she's checked.

Often.

But she's never been in his circle, either, and aside from his mother, hasn't met anyone he spends any amount of time with. So, the Rick that she knows – the attentive, committed man who's welcomed her into his life with open arms – might be completely different than the man that his friends know.

She barely hears any music or ambient noise as she walks up to his door, so either the walls are thicker than she thought, or the party isn't the wild and crazy affair that the tabloids suggest he throws.

Not that she believes the tabloids, of course.

He'd informed her that the door would be unlocked, so she takes a deep breath, wipes her palms on her dress, and walks in.

"You made it!"

Rick must have been watching for her, because he's in her eyesight almost immediately, a champagne flute in each hand. "Sparkling cider," he explains when she lifts her brow in question.

She shrugs off her coat and hangs it in the closet, and when she turns back to Rick to take one of the glasses, she grins at the slack look on his face. She gives her deep blue strapless dress a small twirl. "Do I look okay?" she asks. "Dress code appropriate?"

His throat bobs with a swallow and he nods. "Oh yeah. In fact, everyone needs to leave so I can see how it looks on the floor," he says in a low husk.

Her cheeks warm at the hungry look in his eyes. They've been nearly insatiable for the past week and a half, spending every night together with the exception of last night, when she went dress shopping. They can't get enough of each other.

She certainly can't get enough of him. She just got here, and already, she can't wait until they're alone.

She steps out of his reach when his hand slides down to her ass, and she holds his gaze as she sips her cider. "Later," she promises, holding out her hand.

His eyes briefly narrow, and she half expects him to drag her into the closet and have his way with her. But instead, he takes her hand, tucks it in the crook of his elbow, and dusts his lips across her cheek. "Hold you to that," he murmurs in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

Oh, she's looking forward to it already.


Kate sighs in relief as she clicks the nursery door shut behind her and leans against it. Rick obviously knows how to throw a party, although it is classier than others she's read about over the years. He'd moved his living room furniture around to create space for a dance floor, and a variety of current and classic hits provides a perfect soundtrack.

People are happy, tipsy – except for her and Rick, who decided not to drink tonight – and overall having a great time. She's met more of his friends and acquaintances than she can count, including his publisher-slash-most-recent-ex-wife, and while everyone's been very friendly, it's a bit overwhelming.

After a few deep, calming breaths, she starts to feel her heart rate return to a normal speed, and she flicks on the light.

They'd finally settled on a whimsical storybook theme for both nurseries, and while the room at her apartment is still relatively bare – she's been cleaning it out, but her job keeps getting in the way – Rick's obviously been hard at work. The walls are painted a soft gray, and she recognizes the book-themed mural they'd designed together with the help of a local artist.

He put the furniture together, she notes, and she slides her hand across the top of the crib, presses her other hand to her belly.

She really lucked out by having this kid with Rick. She's had her fair share of sexual partners, especially in the years directly following her mother's death, and a few pregnancy scares that ended up just being scares. Rick is by far the best guy this could have happened with. She's sure that having a baby with a one-night stand wasn't in his life plan - it certainly wasn't in hers - but he's been nothing short of perfect.

God, she's lucky.

A few raps on the door preclude the quiet sound of the door opening, and she looks up when it clicks shut, muffling the ambient noise of the party downstairs.

"You okay?" Rick asks, approaching her slowly, as if he's unsure whether she wants the company.

She nods. "Just needed a minute." When he moves to leave, she shakes her head and reaches out her hand, wiggles her fingers in invitation. She pulls him close when he takes her hand, and she wraps her arms around his waist and relaxes into his embrace. "This is nice," she sighs, her voice muffled by his shirt.

He chuckles, and she feels his cheek rest on the top of her head. "Sorry you're getting grilled by so many people. I wanted to respect your privacy, so I didn't tell anyone about you. They're obviously too curious for their own good."

She squeezes his waist in reassurance. "It's fine. Remind me to look up that police horse incident, though," she jokes, referring to the story she'd been told about his arrest for "borrowing" a police horse – while naked.

"Hey, we've all done stupid things to impress a crush."

She just chuckles and closes her eyes, lets the warmth of his embrace help calm her, ground her. She's quickly learned that just being around him helps soothe any anxiety or nerves, and considering how chaotic her job can be, that was a valuable discovery.

"It's almost midnight," he murmurs, breaking the silence, rubbing his hands down her arms and stepping back. "Should we go back down?"

"Probably." She sighs and untangles herself from him. She laces her fingers with his and lets him guide her downstairs and back to the party.

While they were upstairs, someone paused the music and turned on the television, where thousands of people are gathered just a short distance away in Times Square. Rick hands her a cider, and she smiles up at him, leans into his side as the countdown starts around them.

"Five, four, three, two, one, Happy New Year!"

She and Rick tap their glasses together in a toast, and as soon as she takes a sip, he puts both glasses on a nearby table, cups her jaw with one hand, and lowers his mouth to hers.

She melts into the kiss, the rest of the room fading away into nothing as she loops her arms around his neck and deepens the kiss. Forgotten are his guests, the music, food, everything. The whole world could implode around them, but as long as he's kissing her, she wouldn't even notice.

Too soon he pulls away, and he rests his forehead against hers, his breath shaky. He brushes his thumb across her cheek and opens his eyes, the desire she feels mirrored in his darkened pupils.

The promise of "later" can't come soon enough.

"Happy New Year, Kate," he husks, barely audible over the round of Auld Lang Syne that springs up.

She trails her fingers through the soft hair at the base of his skull and brushes her lips against his.

"Happy New Year, Rick."