Trapped: The Date
He was pacing nervously, this wasn't like him. It was a little after 1pm, just half way through the day, but his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of tonight.
He had resisted the urge to call in a favour, to get them a table at one of the city's most renowned restaurants, to have champagne ready and waiting for them. He checked his phone for what felt like the millionth time, still nothing.
She said she would text with a plan. The fact that he hadn't heard from her in almost six hours didn't mean anything. She was at work, with an active case, after all.
He would admit, though, six hours of radio silence had been exactly what he needed for his writing. He finished the due chapters in record time. Even had an opportunity to proof read them. Final changes could be made tomorrow, though. He had reached his writing potential for today and now his mind was stuck on an entirely different scene: the first date!
She hadn't had a moment to breathe all day. From canvassing, to interrogation, to checking alibis and following up on leads, she had been going non-stop since the moment she arrived.
She had forced herself to take a break in the early afternoon, scoffing down a quick lunch and then getting busy organising something for tonight's date. She had been determined that she would be getting out of the precinct on time today... that they would somehow crack the case wide open and find the killer... preferably within the next few hours.
But now it was knock off time, and their list of tasks seemed to be longer than it was this morning. She looked at the murder board and sighed, maybe she would have to cancel her plans.
"We got this, if you wanted to take off," Esposito offered.
It came out of nowhere. It took her by surprise.
"I could use the overtime," Ryan added, trying to sell the idea to her.
They both smiled at her, waiting for her to accept their offer, but she just looked at them, her eyes filled with skepticism.
"Lanie told us you had plans and we couldn't let you bail," Esposito confessed.
She rolled her eyes, of course Lanie had blabbed to Esposito. Her friend could barely contain her excitement when Beckett had told her about her morning.
"So what plans are so important you can't postpone?" Ryan asked, now that their limited knowledge was no longer a secret.
"Nothing," she said teasingly. She knew the suspense would be killing them.
"You got a big date or something?" Esposito pried. "Come on Beckett, spill."
"Who's the guy?" Ryan piled onto the already growing list of questions she was avoiding, feeling confident that her plans for the evening did involve a date.
"You know what, I'm going to take you up on your offer," she said, gathering her belongings. "And maybe... maybe... I'll throw you a bone in the morning."
The drive to Castle's loft had been entirely too nerve wracking. Her palms grew sweaty as she clutched the steering wheel, shaky as she released her grip and wiped them on her dress.
She was too in her own head about the types of dates he usually went on - the exclusive restaurants, Michelin star chefs, the 20-something year old model's that would usually hang off his arm - she was starting to think that there was no way she could compete with that.
As if they hadn't already shared a dozen wonderful dinners together.
As if he hadn't made it clear, time and time again, that he enjoyed her company, just being in her presence.
As if some 20-something year old model could offer anything more than she could.
She pulled into the parking garage just down the road from Castle's building. She took a moment to shake her nerves, literally shake them, from her body. After a few deep breaths, she mustered her confidence and began the short walk to his loft.
She hesitated when she reached the elevator, considered taking the stairs instead, but decided her caution was unwarranted. The ride up gave her precious seconds to ready herself: to secure the stray tendrils of hair that had come loose in the evening breeze, to make sure her lipstick didn't need touching up. And then the doors opened, and she was on her own. She decided then and there that the walk from the elevator to his door was not even close to long enough. In less than a dozen steps, she was face to face with the deep coloured wooden door that she had stared at just eleven hours ago. But, this time, she would have to knock.
She didn't understand how she seemed to be equal parts excited and terrified. She had no doubt in her mind that this date would go well. They had chemistry - intense chemistry - no one could deny that. She spent most days with him, and yet she never grew bored of him. He was the fun and light that she needed. And, for whatever reason, he seemed to be just as into her. So, yes, she was sure that this would go well.
The part that terrified her was, well, how long could a good thing last between them? Neither one of them had stellar dating records. He had been married... twice. And in between wives, he dated women that just seemed to be so wrong for him. And she dated safe. Guys who had dedicated careers, who were just busy enough to not fully see that she was keeping them at an arms length. How long would she last with someone who actually knew her, flaws and all?
They would burn bright, sure. But they would burn fast, burn out.
She was sure of it.
She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply and paused. One, two, three...
She exhaled, opening her eyes again. She stepped forward and knocked on the door. Her heart began to race.
He opened the door, quick enough for her to know he had been waiting near by for her. His eyes drifted up and down, smile forming on his face as he took her in, and her heart skipped a beat.
Burn bright, burn fast, burn beautifully.
"You are... breathtaking," he said, sending her heart soaring.
"You're not too bad yourself, Castle," she replied, hanging her head to try and hide the flush of pink rushing to her cheeks.
"I got you something." He hurried off, walking toward his kitchen. She took a few small steps forward, inviting herself into the loft. She had been here enough times to know she was welcome. "It's corny, I know, but I couldn't resist."
He turned back to face her, holding a single, long-stemmed, red rose. He walked back toward her, holding the rose out for her. When she reached out to accept it, their fingers brushed and it felt like a jolt of electricity surged through them.
The air was thick with tension and God, she hoped she was wrong about their fate. Because if they could figure this out, she knew they could be something great.
"Thank you," she said softly. "I love it."
"Good," he smiled. A comfortable silence fell over them for a moment as she inhaled the floral scent of his gift. "Shall we?"
He walked toward the door, gesturing for her to join him.
"The restaurant is close by, I was thinking we could walk?" she suggested.
"Sounds good to me," he said, holding the door open for her. "Where exactly are we going?"
"Sapori D'Italia," she said, as perfectly as one would if Italian was their native tongue.
"Oh, the tastes of Italy." He was familiar with the restaurant, passing it almost daily on his way to and from the precinct. They stepped into the elevator. "You really are wining and dining me," he said, that teasing tone in his voice a welcomed relief. He wasn't taking this too seriously, which helped her alleviate some of the pressure she had put on herself.
She rolled her eyes, but her smile only brightened. "Yeah, well, I figured it was about time that you were on the receiving end of such treatment."
He smiled. He could definitely embrace being wined and dined for the night, although he did like his usual role of being the wine and dine-er.
"I don't mind being the giver, you know?" he explained. "I like to show my appreciation for people. For some people, that means going out for fancy dinners. For others, it's bringing them coffee every morning-"
"That's why you bring me coffee?"
"It makes you smile," he said with a shrug, as if he hadn't just said the sweetest thing she'd ever heard.
"I'm also trying to train your brain into thinking of me whenever you drink coffee," he added with a smirk.
The elevator doors opened and they both stepped out, their pace effortlessly synching up.
"I hate to admit it, but I think it's working."
"Really?" he asked, eagerly.
"Yeah. I smell coffee and I think of you." She laughed when he balled his fist and pulled it to his chest victoriously.
They arrived at the restaurant, and were seated at their table. The change in atmosphere and more formal setting reignited the notion that this was not like any other dinner with Castle. This was a date, a real date.
Castle reached for the carafe of water, pouring them both a drink. He placed the glass in front of her and watched as she took a sip and slowly placed the glass back down on the table.
"Your hands are trembling," he noticed, reaching out and taking her hand in his.
She inhaled sharply, his touch taking her by surprise. "It's cold," she explained, but he wasn't buying it.
"Not really." Usually he would do the gentlemanly thing and offer her his jacket, but room was warm, bordering too warm in contrast to the cool winter night.
"Are you nervous?" he asked.
She tried to keep her cool. "No," she said, with a slight shrug. But his smile told her that he could see through her as clearly as he could see through glass.
"I am," he confessed.
Her eyes shot up at him, widened by disbelief. Richard Castle, nervous to be on a date with her. "You are?"
"I want to impress you," he said shyly. "But, you know me. You know all my little tricks. You're not that easily impressed."
"I think you underestimate how impressive you are," she said with a smile. "Even without the tricks."
"I think you're just saying that. But I appreciate it."
"I'm not. When have I ever complimented you just for the hell of complimenting you?" she laughed.
"You told me you liked my haircut the other week."
"I did." She took her lower lip in between her teeth and turned her head away from him.
She really did like that haircut. Even more so than she had let on. But she hadn't expected him to have even remembered her passing comment.
Even with her face turned away, she could feel his eyes on her. She turned back to him, held his gaze and returned his smile.
"You have me intrigued, Castle." She flipped her hand under his, until their palms pressed together, and laced her fingers through his. "What exactly are these tricks you usually perform?"
"Ah, you know, a little name dropping, a little flaunting cash, a little word play."
"Oh, so everything you used to do around the precinct?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Uh, yeah," he chuckled, busted. "Yeah, exactly that."
She shook her head, the smile on her face growing tenfold.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, soaking up the pure happiness that seemed to be radiating from her.
A waitress approached the table, menus in hand. "Good evening, welcome to Sapori D'Italia." She handed them a menu each. "Would you like to hear the specials?"
Dinner had been perfect. Castle had ordered the special of the night: home style lasagna, and Kate had ordered creamy mushroom risotto. The meals had been delicious, both plates almost clean by the time they had finished.
"So, Kate?" Castle began, once their plates had been cleared.
"Yes, Rick?"
He smiled, the use of his given name was flirty and fun, another step away from Castle and Beckett. Tonight they were Rick and Kate. And he was loving it.
"I'm curious..."
She straightened her posture, bracing herself for whatever question he may be about to spring on her. "Those words strike fear into my heart, just so you know." Her smile beamed, despite her words.
"No need for fear, I promise," he reassured her. "I was just wondering, what would you consider to be the perfect date?"
"The perfect date?"
"Mm-hmm," he nodded and propped his chin up on his fist to listen intently to her answer.
She chewed on the inside of her lip while she considered her answer.
"Good food is a must. Uh, good wine," she held up her glass and he clinked his to it. "And easy conversation. I don't want to feel like I'm really working for it, I like it to flow."
"The flow is important," he added, sipping from his wine.
"I think so." She smiled and sipped from her glass. "What about you? What would the perfect date for you involve?"
"I agree with the food. And the wine. Gotta have good food and good wine. And a perfect date will, obviously, end in a perfect kiss."
"A perfect kiss, hey?"
"Yeah, I refrain from the real good stuff until the third date." He emphasised his statement with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.
"The third date?" She narrowed her eyes. "Why am I having trouble believing that?"
"Because it's a blatant lie," he admitted, causing her to laugh. "I just don't want you thinking I'm easy."
"I would never hold such things against you," she said with a wicked smile.
The walk back to the loft was slow. They were taking their time, no need to rush, just enjoying one another's company. The air was cold and so the streets were relatively empty.
With each step, their bodies drew closer, as if being pulled by some magnetic force. Before long, their shoulders brushed. Their hands met, pinky fingers linking momentarily before, finally, he worked up the courage to intertwine their fingers. The warmth of his skin against hers sent a wave of desire through her. Eventually, his arm wrapped around her lower back, hand resting on her hip.
Their pace slowed even more so as they reach his building.
"Thank you," she said, turning to face him. "Tonight was... fun."
"You say that as if you were expecting it to be a disaster," he joked.
She let out a slight laugh, before growing serious again. "I don't know what I expected, to be honest."
"Well, I'd say fun is a good start." He took a step toward her. "Thank you for asking me to dinner."
She smiled up at him, eyes sparkling bright under the city lights. She could feel the wings of a thousand butterflies taking flight in her stomach.
He brought his hand up to her neck, brushed his thumb gently along her jawline. His heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest.
Her eyes flickered down to his lips, then back up to meet his gaze.
He leaned in, pressed his lips to hers. Slowly, tenderly, he kissed her. He savoured the way her lips felt against his, the way her body pressed into him. The way her scent and the taste of wine still on her lips intoxicated him.
He pulled away, resting his forehead against hers, watching as she processed this moment. Her eyes stayed closed, but he could see her smile grow.
The perfect kiss...
"Come upstairs?" he asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
"What about your three date rule?" she joked.
He chuckled, thoroughly amused by her assumption. "Detective, I was simply going to offer you a coffee."
Her cheeks flushed red, heat rising to them even in the winter air. "Coffee does sound nice."
He pulled his forehead away from hers, reaching down and wrapping his hand around hers. "Come on," he said as he pulled her toward the door.
When they reached the loft, her hand was still tucked safely in his. He fumbled with they key, but still refused to let go. After a seconds of more effort than usual, he managed to get the door unlocked and they made their way inside. The loft was dark, lightly illuminated by a single lamp near the office, but he made no attempt to remedy that.
He walked to the kitchen and started up the coffee machine. The newfound distance between them - more distance than they had allowed all night - had him yearning to be close to her again, instantly missing her. This new development, this need for her, concerned him. It had him worrying about what came next, about what tomorrow would hold for them, because he knew that there was no going back. Not now. He knew what he wanted, and he didn't want to waste any more time.
He moved across the loft, back to her. His hands found their rightful place resting against her waist. Instinctively, her hands moved to his body: one on his chest, the other reaching up to touch his face. He waited, just long enough to allow her time to object, but she smile on her face and anticipation in her eyes was more than enough permission for him.
His lips crashed against hers: greedy, determined. Her arms wrapped around his neck as his hands drifted to her lower back, pulling their bodies impossibly close.
Suddenly, a click echoed through the near-silent loft and the lights the lined the staircase lit up.
Kate pulled herself from Castle's arms, stepping back and placing a respectable amount of distance between them. Using her thumb and forefinger, she wiped the corners of her mouth to try and fix any lipstick smudges that may have occurred.
"Dad?" Alexis called softly from the top of the staircase. She walked the few steps down the staircase until her father came into view. She rubbed her tired eyes, trying to focus them. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said when she noticed he wasn't alone.
"I was just leaving," Kate announced.
Castle turned to face her, disappointment marring his face. "But, your coffee."
She smiled at him, reached out and touched his hand. "I'll talk to you tomorrow?"
He nodded. "Yeah."
"Goodnight." She stepped closer to him, placed a kiss to his cheek.
"Night."
She looked up to Alexis, still standing half-asleep in the staircase. "Night, Alexis."
"Goodnight, Detective Beckett."
With one last smile in Castle's direction, she took her leave. Although the night had come to an abrupt end, she couldn't have asked for a better first date.
A/N: Happy Holidays to those that celebrate the season. I wish you all a wonderful weekend! I will be checking out for a few days, but I will be back in the new year!
The writing of this chapter was accompanied by a few Christmas drinks so I do apologise if my proof-reading isn't up to scratch. But I wanted to get this one out as a little Christmas gift to you all. Thank you very much for continuing to read my stories!