Language warning.
Todays prompt was "crush".
Set 2x12 (A Rose for Everafter) in the precinct after Castle meets Kyra on the rooftop. Just a little ramble that will lead right into the canon scene...
Enjoy : )
Moment of realisation
Fuck.
Why'd he have to do that?
Why'd he have to go and do stupid things that make her feel so... heavy.
She didn't know when this had happened, when everything had apparently changed.
When had his outlandish theories become entertaining, not infuriating? When did his jokes start actually being funny and how did she not notice that his cocky smirk had turned into the most charming smile?
When did his constant presence and incessant need to be in her space become comforting instead of intrusive and most definitely unwelcome?
When had their partnership - the bane of her existence - turned into something so... so challenging and exciting and...
Fuck.
When had it turned into friendship? Pure loving, trusting friendship.
When did she start actually caring about him? And not in a "I don't wish anything bad upon you" kind of way. In a genuine "I wish you nothing but happiness" kind of way. A "you're my best friend" kind of way. A "I saw this and thought it might make you smile" kind of way.
In a "I hope you think of me, too" kind of way.
In a "you make me happy" kind of way.
In a "maybe, just maybe, I might have a little crush" kind of way.
Fuck.
And why - why! - was she only figuring all this out as she stared at the surveillance photographs from last night: the photographs that showed Castle... and Kyra... and their rooftop rendezvous?
What was he thinking?
Why'd he have to do that?
Why'd he have to do such stupid things?
Couldn't he see that he was going to get hurt? She was a married woman! Well... almost. This wasn't going to have a happy ending and Castle - stupid, vulnerable, hopeless romantic Castle - was going to get hurt.
And if he was hurting, she was hurting.
The elevator ding brought her attention from the images in her hands and she looked up to see Castle approaching with her coffee in hand. Quickly, she tucked the images away and pretended to be working.
She didn't look up at him as he placed the coffee on her desk. She couldn't. There was this stupid little niggling pain in her chest that kept her from looking at him. Because he would know it was there. He had this uncanny ability to just... read her... to know her emotions and her pain.
But, gosh, he was just this magnetic presence that she couldn't ignore, no matter how hard she tried.
With those big blue eyes that seem impossibly bright when he gets excited and that radiant smile that could light up the city.
She had to bite down on her lip to fight off the smile caused by the picture her mind had painted.
Good God, she had it bad.
What the hell was happening to her?
Her eyes flicked toward him and that pain in her chest grew tenfold at his sad, distant eyes.
She was torn, couldn't decide between making him stew in the consequences of his stupid decisions or doing everything she could to take his pain away, to make him happy.
Because if he was happy, she was happy.
"What did I tell you?" she asked through gritted teeth, still undecided what path she would take with this conversation.
"What?"
"Did I or did I not make myself clear?"
"Yes," he said as he sighed.
"Do you know how much it annoys me knowing what you're doing?"
In that moment it seemed her jealousy would be taking the steering wheel, veering her toward confrontation. But then his shoulders slumped. He looked so... defeated... and the softer part of her heart took control.
"Touching things that shouldn't be touched. Yanking on things that shouldn't be yanked," she continued in the same frustrated tone.
"No, no. Nobody yanked on anything!" he defended and she took the smallest moment to internally celebrate that small reassurance.
"Really? Then how do you explain this?"
She rolled her chair back and kicked her legs around, showing Castle that they couldn't quite reach the floor - undeniable evidence that he had not only used her chair, but messed with its positioning.
"I've told you a million times not to mess with my chair," she scolded.
He looked confused.
"Right. No, I'm sorry. And it- it won't happen again."
There was no defence, no argument, nothing.
As that heaviness settled in again, she knew that this was serious, that it would take more than a stupid argument about a chair to distract him from this hurt, from Kyra. But that wouldn't stop her from trying.