Sneaking down through the stairwell with him beside her feels like something they should be doing hand-in-hand. Twice she almost grabs Castle, holds him close, but if nothing else she avoids doing it because he'd probably trip down the stairs and break a bone. She'd probably find the concept terribly amusing if it wasn't for their complete lack of connection to the outside world.
They get to the bottom and Castle stalls. He's at odds with this place, she realises. He doesn't ever come here much at all.
"I normally get the elevator," he says self-consciously. "Which direction is out?"
She bumps into his shoulder, pushing him to the right. "This way. Come on."
And then he takes her hand and everything goes a little sideways.
"Lead the way, detective."
His voice is light, but strung tense, and he's trying to hold himself in such a casual way that it just comes across as manufactured. Artificial. Like a Lego man trying to loosen up. Because these are the kinds of things he's not allowed to do in the daylight, and if she calls a single shred of attention to it then he'll jolt away as if burned.
So Kate takes one step then another, because if she falters now then it's over over over. Or— maybe that's not right. Maybe none of this is right. Maybe show no weakness isn't the way to approach this man and his boundless love at all.
Sometimes she worries that she's ruined him.
She turns back to face Castle, so abruptly that he collides with her. He stumbles into her — or she stumbles into him, it's hard to say — and Rick's free hand darts out to protect her skull from the wall when she crashes back into it. And then they're just very close. And he's cupping the back of her head in his enormous palm. Kate can't remember ever having been rendered this graceless by another human being before. Shit, she only wanted to smile at him, squeeze his hand.
"Beckett," he manages, finally, voice pitched low. His fingers tense at her nape and it's like being electrified.
She opens her mouth to say something stupid, insane, like I want you, like I need you, Rick, but nothing comes. Until: "Castle."
His chest almost against hers. Touching-not-touching with every breath. Nobody else is coming down here, she thinks. They're alone.
"You're very close," he says next. She blinks up at him, takes her bottom lip between her teeth without realising and watches the way his pupils dilate to moon craters in real time.
"You gonna do something about it?"
Castle goes still. Stops breathing.
"I don't— uh,"
"Kidding," she emphasises, too loud, too fast, socking him in the arm and watching with a strange mixture of relief and sadness as a sheepish grin breaks over his face and he backs away. His hand undoes itself from its place at the back of her head and the loss of it sends her listing back into the plasterboard. A soft thud, the world's end.
"Had me for a second there," he lets out on an exhale.
Had him. She has him.
"What can I say?" She jests. He doesn't call her out on the way her voice cracks. "You're such an easy target. Now come on. Snow's melting."
"It really isn't," he calls, trailing behind her as Kate starts to move. Everything becomes a little easier once they're not making eye contact.
But she doesn't let go of his hand.
"Here," she says, stopping in front of the huge iron exit door and trailing her fingers up to circle his wrist before she finally releases him. He looks a little awe-struck. She feels it too.
"This the door?"
"Mm. Try it?"
Castle steps forward and flexes, all melodramatic, before he takes hold of the handle and starts to tug. Nothing gives at first, so he plants one foot on the wall beside the door and heaves with his full body weight until Beckett swears that the hinges start to creak. It's working. He's straining at this frozen-shut metal door and it's actuallyworking.
"Shit," he swears, and she steps up next to him.
"No, keep going," she encourages. "I think you're close."
He just smirks at her. "That right?"
"Just shut up and pull."
The smirk turns into a leer. "Whatever you say."
Castle gives one final pull and that's what does it — a terrible, metallic rending sound, and then the whole thing finally pries open and he's careening backwards with the door wrenching out with him.
"I did it!" He turns to beam at her, and she smiles right back, all warmth and sunlight and crinkling eyes.
"You sure did," she affirms, elbowing him gratefully. He's so pleased with himself, ruffling his feathers like a damn peacock, and she can't even bring herself to judge him for it. It's Christmas, after all. Well. It will be tomorrow.
"Oh, fuck," Castle breathes then, and she shoots him a funny look for it just to find that his gaze isn't on her. He's looking right past her. Outside.
Kate turns to see for herself, and oh, yeah, okay. Fuck.
This door is raised a couple feet from the street by a set of steps leading up to it, and sheltered beneath a parapet besides, so there are only a few inches of snow on the ground immediately outside the doorway. But beyond that — holy shit. It's like nothing Kate's ever seen before.
Mountains, or something close. Just reams and reams of untouched snow covering every available surface. Hills and valleys, stoops and rolls. Icicles where the snow couldn't reach, shimmering from ledges and overhangs, light cutting through and refracting out so that everything in sight is drenched in fractals of the sun.
"Tell me you're seeing this," Castle whispers, and she can only nod.
"It doesn't look real," Kate finally breathes, turning to stare at him and catching an expression so awe-struck that it knocks her back a little.
He just stares, keeps staring, mouth agape. Until he blinks, flicks his gaze to hers, and grins.
"Only one way to find out."
Kate doesn't even have time to tell him not to do something stupid before Castle's taking a running leap and launching himself from the top of the steps into the endless snow.
"Fuck, Castle!"
She watches in horror as he spins in the air and hits the snow back-first, starfished, his body landing and making this huge Castle-shaped dent in the plane of white. Except— there's so much of it. It's just one huge pillow. No damage done at all. His fall is perfectly cushioned, and for a moment he just lies there in the space he's made, looking equal parts dazed and utterly ecstatic. Oh god, she loves him. This day. This memory.
And then he's like a dog, twisting around the second he's been stationary for too long and writhing until he's sort of half-wading-half-swimming through the powder.
"This is insane! Look how much there is! Beckett!"
Kate beams down at him, leaning against the door frame with her arms folded as she watches.
"Naw, you don't get to stand there all high and mighty. This is so cool, you have to come in." Every word Castle says is a cloud of condensed air from his lips, his eyes sapphires in the stark white of his surroundings. Kate only raises one eyebrow, shaking her head in challenge and feeling the thrill of it deep in her chest.
And he sees it, senses it, whatever. She's not sure, but all of a sudden the blur of his dark outline against the snow is squirming through the powder again, manoeuvring itself, somehow, back towards the steps which float above the sea of white like a buoy.
"Castle, no."
"You've got ten seconds to come in or I'm throwing you."
"Castle." She acts all appalled, but it's one big game, and he's smiling so hard she can't see past it. Then he's climbing from the snow and huge flakes of it are spilling from his hair, his shoulders, the folds of his jumper, and he's the sun, he's all she needs, how did it take her three years to figure this out?
"Ten."
"Castle. I swear to fuck. Oh my god. I'm not going in there."
"Nine."
She's about to start squealing like a girl.He advances, all mischief, eyes sparkling brighter than she's ever seen them.
"Richard. Rick. Richard Alexander Rogers. I will tell your mother about this."
"She'll approve. Eight."
He's close, getting closer, and she backs away but it's more of a tiptoe and now they're up on the balls of their feet like it's a football game and he's trying to figure out which direction she's about to run in.
"I'll kill you. I am more than capable."
"Mm. Seven."
She's not winning this, she was never winning this, she's smiling too hard and he can see it, he knows all about the game that she's giving away. Her worst ever poker face. For him. Of course.
"Cas—"
"Oh, time's up. Zero."
Shit. He barrels into her, all freezing limbs and breathless laughter, locking his arms — fuck he's strong — around her waist and then just lifting her off the fucking ground.
"Castle I swear to god, isweartogod, castleifyouputmeinthatsnowiwillfuckingkillyou—"
Useless, all useless, she's giggling for god's sake, can't get words in past the way he's got her gasping for air, and then he's launching himself from the steps with her body in his arms.
There's a moment. In the air. Flying and suspended and frozen in time. There's a moment, and it's only fleeting, only a heartbeat — the light the love the silence — where Kate feels a weightlessness that she hasn't felt since nineteen. Castle and the snow. Castle and his smile and the endless blue sky.
And then they're thudding into the basin of powder and she's twisting out of his grip so fast he can't catch her. Kate stretches out, grabs the biggest handfuls of snow she can manage, and mashes them without preamble into his beaming face.
"Fuck!"
i am once again just here to say THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH for all the love for this story so far! god it's just such a joy to post a chapter before bed and then wake up to all of your lovely reviews in the morning, pls do keep them coming if possible — it's such great motivation!
until tomorrow :)