A/N: Welcome to my first ever Castle fic! I swore up and down that my first Caskett story would NOT be smut, and in fact this story started out smutless but then… I mean… all the Season 5 stuff started coming out and Beckett's HAIR and then the HAMPTONS and the promo and did I mention her hair? Yes it's yet ANOTHER Hampton's fic and probably full of cliches but I thought this could be a fun, if possibly over the top little warm-up to the grand and exciting new world of fanfic opportunities that Castle has presented me. I hope you enjoy I have no Castle beta and this was written VERY quickly so all mistakes are my own! DEFINITELY M rated.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to a God among men, not I. That God being Andrew Marlowe.
A few of my Favourite Things
"Beckett, what the hell do you think you're doing?"
The detective bit her lip, unable to contain a smirking grin.
"What are you talking about, Castle?"
He chanced a look to the side, keeping his peripherals on the road in front of him. He immediately regretted it. Her long hair was whipping wildly in the wind, loose and free. Even half covered by a huge pair of sunglasses her face was glowing, and not just from the bright sun. Her body was relaxed, completely at ease on the soft leather seat. The neck of her white dress was halter shaped, leaving her shoulders and arms bare to the sun. He couldn't see it now but the writer knew the dress left her back mostly bare, the absence of a bra glaringly obvious and the fabric of the halter neck cascading down her back in a wispy tendril that teased and tortured him. He couldn't believe his eyes when he'd picked her up.
"What," she'd shrugged. "We're going to a beach house aren't we?"
And oh did he have plans for her at said beach house. There was the house, the pool and the Jacuzzi… and she didn't yet know about his boat. But that was for another day.
Castle knew that Beckett liked speed, and there was nothing quite like racing down an empty freeway in an open Ferrari. More than that though, he'd like to think that her tranquility stemmed partly from him as well. The last few weeks, while fraught with drama, had been some of the best weeks of his life. It was tough keeping everything bottled down at the precinct, especially when Kate was in any amount of danger, but they'd managed. And when they finally got to be alone, together… it was everything he could have dreamed of and more. He'd never felt anything close to the connection he had with her, emotionally, spiritually, or physically. Oh yeah, physically. He prided himself in his self-control, his ability to focus on his partner, draw things out, but when he was near her all bets were off. They'd had nights that were slow and passionate, learning each other to the best of their ability but they'd also had more than a few instances where they didn't make it past the door. Or the couch. Or the desk. They had a lot of years to make up for.
Just thinking about some of their more wild nights made him shift in his seat, thankful for the cool wind whipping his hot face. The shift, however, sharply reminded him of why he'd asked what the hell she was doing.
Her hand was on his leg. And by on his leg, he meant on his thigh. His very upper, inner, thigh. A long, slim finger was brushing even further up. He blinked several times, eyes back on the road, trying not to surrender to the haze of want that always clouded his vision when she was touching him.
"Beckett…" he warned in a low voice.
"Hmmm?" Another finger started a quest upwards.
He sent her a quick glare. Sunglasses stared back at him, perfectly sculpted eyebrows raised innocently above the rim. Her face was a mask of calm while her hand boldly moved up to palm against his jeans. He jumped, his jaw clenched tightly to contain a squeak. His head whipped back to the road, unable to look at her anymore. He could practically sense the sly grin that graced her lips. She moved her hand, a firm stroke.
"Ok, seriously Kate, if you want to get to the Hamptons alive you need to stop. Right now."
"But wouldn't it be such a nice way to go, Rick?" she said in a deep voice.
Oh god, no! She said his name! She knew what that did to him. She was playing dirty and oh did he like it.
"If you're going to kill me this weekend, Beckett, can't you at least wait until we get there? I really want to show it to you…"
Her hand stilled and he inhaled a deep breath. They both knew going to the Hamptons together was a big thing. He'd wanted to take her to his private sanctuary, away from the chaos of the city, since about two days after he'd met her. Kate knew she'd yearned to go for more years than he probably realized. It was so much more significant than just "going away for the weekend."
Her hand started up again and he groaned, the sound lost in the purr of the engine and the whistling of the wind.
"You're giving me permission to kill you, Castle?"
"You do it nearly every day as it is."
"Yeah, but now you're giving me express permission to actively seek out that goal? So long as we make it to the house?"
"Well if I had to choose where I wanted to die, it would be in your arms."
She stilled again. Next thing he knew she was leaning towards him and laying a strong kiss to his jaw, his neck, before resting her cheek softly against his.
"Only if I went with you," she said quietly into his ear.
His heart stuttered. Only if she went with him? She wouldn't want to keep going without him. Oh wow. She still hadn't said "I love you," but everything about that statement was layered with it. It was enough. For now.
She pulled back from him and abruptly laughed.
"Way too serious a subject matter, Castle. Come on, I thought you were whisking me away for a weekend of fun and frolic?"
He happily took her opening to move away from unspoken words and thoughts of mutual demise.
"Oh, Detective, there will be lots of frolic, don't you fret."
"I'm gonna hold you to that."
"I look very forward to you holding things."
He glanced over at her and saw her biting her bottom lip between her teeth, smiling, and couldn't help but smile back. He'd always been fond of smiling but in the last few weeks he found he couldn't stop. What was more incredible though was how much she smiled. Because of him. God. She was so beautiful when she smiled. He would work every day for the rest of his life to see her smiling.
"Eyes on the road, Castle," she said, her voice smug. He hadn't realized he'd been staring dopily at her. He did that a lot. His head sprang back forward, looking at the road with exaggerated intent. She laughed, and the sound vibrated through his entire body. Her hot hand was suddenly on him again.
She laughed again.
The second they were inside the door he dropped their bags, grabbed her waist, and pushed her back against the door.
"Oh my god, Kate," he moaned, taking her lips in a furious kiss. Her mouth immediately opened, her wet tongue lunging out to meet his, her arms wrapping around his shoulders to bring him closer. She tasted like coffee, and wind, and Kate.
"I seriously thought that cop was going to pull us over!" she laughed.
"No cops this weekend," Castle decreed. "Only one smokin' hot detective."
His right hand slid down her side to cup her back side, gripping firmly and hoisting her up, moving his leg between hers. Or trying to. He growled and pulled back, glaring angrily down at her full length summer dress. It was gorgeous, and flowy, and teased at the slim curves underneath, but it also completely got in the way of his leg.
"Beckett," he growled again, and she laughed. Laughed at him!
"Slow down there, big boy."
He looked up at her, incredulous. She'd gotten rid of her sunglasses at some point, and her eyes were huge, green, beautiful… and amused.
"Don't want to slow down," he muttered, leaning forward and taking her mouth again. She tried to say something but it was muffled against his lips. He could feel her shoulders slump as she gave into the kiss, her body melting into his like it was meant to be there. He couldn't fit his legs to hers so he used his hands instead. The material of her dress was incredibly soft, thin, he could practically feel her skin through it, every curve and dip and angle of her ribs. His hands stroked up and down her sides, her waist so slim he could touch her back while his thumbs wrapped around to stroke her stomach. She made a sound against him and leaned further back into the door for support. One of his hands skimmed upwards across her shoulder blades to bury itself in her luscious hair, wild and tangled from the drive. He felt her gentle hand at his jaw, one of her favourite places. His heart rate decelerated a bit as the kiss evolved from furious to slow and deep. He was completely wound up from her fiendish hand, which had not relented in the car, but she had a way of calming him, grounding him, gently bending him towards the pace and pressure that she wanted.
Kate Beckett had come to the Hamptons with him. Castle would do whatever she wanted, no matter the strain. She could lead him across the beach and into the ocean to never come back, and he'd happily drown with her. Thankfully she currently seemed content to just drown him with kisses. A while later, how long exactly he didn't know, they'd slowed to the point that their lips were barely brushing, simply breathing in each other's air. He was sharing breath with Kate Beckett. In his house in the Hamptons. He let out a shaky sigh and leaned forward, gathering her in his arms and resting his chin on her head. She was wearing sandals of all things today, cute little white things that showed her purple painted toes (Oh how he'd teased her) but also creating an unusual height difference that he secretly loved. She fit against him so perfectly like this, as though they were made for each other, her head burrowing into his neck and resting on his broad shoulder.
"Time for a tour?" she finally asked in a quiet voice, not wanting to break the peace of the moment.
"Sure," he nodded, but neither of them moved. He felt her lips on his neck, corners turned up in a smile. She pulled back from him, their eyes meeting.
"Come on, Castle," she said in the tone of voice she always used when she thought he was being overly girly. A mixture of wry amusement, exasperation, and amazement, like she was feeling just as mushy as him, but still refused to let him know. He didn't care though. He knew. He also knew that she knew how excited he was to finally have her with him, so he decided to push his luck and extend his hand to her. She rolled her eyes but took it, squeezing ever so lightly as he started to pull her down a hallway.
"We have to go to my favourite place first," he declared, excitement lacing his voice.
"So help me if you take me straight to the bedroom…"
"Why Detective!" he turned to her, still walking. "Get your mind out of the gutter."
She raised an eyebrow, still disbelieving.
"You'll understand very soon, my dear," he said loftily.
They arrived at a set of tall, double doors, pure white, with elegant handles. Castle let go of her hand, grasping the handles of both doors with exaggerated grandeur before pulling them down and pushing the doors forward.
"Oh, Castle…" Kate breathed stepping into the room.
"Told you so," he said. She turned to him, her heart thudding at the sight of his wide, exuberant face, beaming with pride.
"This is amazing," she admitted as her highly trained eyes swept over the vast room, taking in every detail.
"You surely didn't think the books at my loft were all I had?"
"No, of course not, but I didn't expect this!"
Bookshelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling. The only wall space not covered in books was the wall opposite them, where the shelves gave way to a massive window which pushed outwards, a plush looking window seat resting at the bottom. She could see the ocean in the distance, the sun's reflection so strong it lit the entire room until it almost glowed. A sitting area stood to their left consisting of a comfortable couch and two loveseats surrounding a low coffee table. The center of the room was dominated by an impressive oak desk the size of a dining table. A few books, papers and pens were scattered across its dark surface, a stark natural contrast to the sleek, modern white of the room around it. It was surreal.
Castle watched her wander further in, her step light, as if she didn't want to disturb the solemnity of such a place. He let the doors close behind him before leaning back and observing her, one of the most important people in his life, in his favourite place in the world. She stopped in front of one of the shelves, her hand raising as if to touch one but pausing. Her mouth opened slightly, her teeth coming out to claim her bottom lip. The books were alphabetized and sorted by category. She wondered if that was Castle's doing, or Alexis.
"I can't believe you have a section of classic Russian literature," she observed.
"My interests are more varied than just mystery and crime novels, you know."
"I know, I'm just… impressed, at your collection."
She avoided looking at him, sure he must be preening.
Her hand continued its path until her fingers brushed the spine of a book, he didn't know which one. A shiver trickled down his back as if she were actually touching him. Her teeth released her lip but her mouth stayed slightly parted as she perused the titles, her fingers sweeping over the books as she walked a few steps to the side. Castle's own jaw was open, awed, not quite able to comprehend the sight of her. Her face was rapt, completely engrossed in what she was seeing, her love for words, for books, pouring out of her. It was possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, the way her love rivaled his own, the way she understood what books could mean to someone. She may not have the ability to write them like he did, but she sure knew how to appreciate them.
The light from the window accentuated the lighter streaks in her hair and the green in her eyes. Combined with the white of her long dress she looked like an angel. His angel. He knew Beckett's eyes would probably roll out of her head if she knew what he was thinking, but he couldn't help it. He still woke up half the time wondering if he'd dreamed the last few weeks. A sudden need to touch her, make sure she was real, took over him and his feet started moving of their own accord. She glanced briefly at him as he approached but her eyes immediately pulled away, riveted by the offerings in the shelves before her. She pulled out a thick volume, its cover a dark green, and flipped it open. When he was at her side he stopped, suddenly not wanting to touch her after all in fear of breaking the spell she was being held in. After a few minutes of silence she broke it for him.
She finally looked at him, holding his eyes in her wide gaze
"It even smells like books in here," she said, her voice wondering.
"One of my favourite smells," he grinned. The smell of ancient pages, the words of their ancestors juxtaposed with the fresh smell of new pages, awaiting discovery. It was intoxicating.
"Mine too," she said softly.
He couldn't stand it anymore. He reached out and cupped her cheek, bending down to press his lips against hers. He intended the kiss to be soft, reverent, but her free arm grabbed his bicep hard and her mouth opened to his. Never one to decline her invitation he wrapped his other arm around her waist as their tongues met. She made a little noise and he seized her bottom lip between his, sucking on the area she'd been biting earlier. Next thing he knew she was guiding him forward as she turned, allowing him to push her against the bookshelf. The smell of the books united with the sweet smell of her and suddenly his jeans were too tight and his shirt was too hot. He pressed her against the shelves, knowing she wouldn't mind the sharp jut of books in her back. It had always seemed to turn her on even more, he'd observed, which of course drove him wild in return. He drew a hand up her side, leaning it against a book beside her head for support, but the book was thinner than he'd anticipated and it slid further into the shelf. He stumbled forward, hips grinding into hers. She moaned and the book she'd been holding slid out of limp fingers, crashing to the floor with a heavy thud.
The sound knocked both of them out of their trance and released the fires that had been burning since they'd started their drive so many hours ago.
"Kate," he groaned, rolling his hips again and trying to kiss her harder, deeper. She gave a muffled moan in response, sneaking her hands between their bodies to grasp the edge of his shirt, fumbling with the top button. His hands moved down her waist, over the smooth curve of her backside to grip her thighs tightly, picking her up like she weighed nothing. Her legs swiftly wrapped around him, a practiced move made awkward by her dress as he began to walk backwards, picturing the library in his mind and hoping he was heading where he thought he was. After several stumbles and a moment where he was sure they were going to topple to the ground, he felt the solid hardwood of the desk at his back. He swung them around and hoisted her onto it.
"Tour, Castle," she gasped as his hands moved to her ankles, now within reaching distance.
"What about it?" he mumbled against her lips.
"Shouldn't we…?" she gasped against his lips as she worked the last button of his shirt free.
"We have all weekend," he said hurriedly, his hands finally working under the hem of her dress and encountering the sinfully smooth skin of her calves.
Any further queries were cut short when he moved from her lips to her neck, sucking fervently against her throbbing pulse. She forced his hands from her dress, much to his dismay, so that she could push his shirt off. Once it was gone she set to work on his belt and jeans. His hands quickly reclaimed their spot on her skin, sliding further and further upwards until he unexpectedly went still as a statue.
"Beckett," he choked.
"What is it?" she slurred, having reclaimed his lips. He pulled away and glared at her.
"Kate Beckett, are you trying to destroy me?"
She frowned up at him through hazy eyes, her lashes dark and thick.
"You're not wearing any underwear," he hissed.
Her eyes flickered in understanding, growing two shades darker and five shades more evil.
"Wow, Castle, you figured that out? You sure you're not a trained detective like me?"
"This is not funny, Beckett," he ground out. "The whole bra thing was bad enough but if I'd known you were… I mean…"
"Well you know now," she said in a low voice, scooting forward on the desk so their hips touched. She pressed herself against him and then her tongue was on his skin, licking up his neck until her lips were at his ear, sucking the lobe into her mouth. "So what are you gonna do about it?" she whispered.
This woman was seriously going to be the death of him.
He growled and took hold of her hips, pushing her back with such force that she slid halfway across the desk, laughing as books and papers cascaded to the ground. His jeans were already halfway down his legs thanks to her clever fingers and they were off in a second, his boxers quickly following. His sandals had been lost a while ago. He climbed onto the desk, immensely thankful for its sturdiness as he moved towards where she was now kneeling, knees bent in front of her, resting on her legs. Her eyes provoked him, her body taunted him, her husky voice drove him mad with need. How had he survived so long by her side, unable to do this? He rose up on his knees and grabbed her, kissing her with a harsh passion, addicted to her taste. She rose up to meet him chest to chest, meeting his passion with a fierceness of her own. He could feel every curve and plane of her body beneath the thin dress but he wanted more. His hands found the bottom of her dress and forced it upwards, her body having to twist and bend to accommodate his rough demand until finally he lifted it off of her raised arms and threw it to the side.
He held onto her waist and leaned back, holding her in place. She could easily throw him off but she didn't want to. She let him look at her, gaze at her, drink in the sight of her wavy hair tumbling down her bare shoulders, brushing the tops of her breasts, her skin shimmering in the light. His grand book cases provided the backdrop for the picture, straight out of a fantasy.
"Kate," he said, his voice catching in his throat. He swallowed thickly. Her lustful gaze softened and she raised a hand to his cheek, stroking it gently. She leaned forward and kissed him, slow and sweet, for just a moment.
"Right back at ya," she murmured. Then her kisses were back to the strong, challenging kisses he knew and loved. He wanted to touch her, kiss every inch of her but his mind was slipping with every passing second and he knew this was not the time for foreplay. Their whole day so far had provided that. Just in case he slipped a hand down between her legs. She moaned against him, her body shaking lightly as his fingers grazed through the silky wetness he encountered. Definitely no foreplay required. He moved a hand to her shoulder to push her down but she resisted, her own hands rising up to strike at his shoulders with lighting speed. He fell backwards and stared in awe as she moved to straddle him, grinning down at him like a feral cat looking at a meal. He had never felt so happy to be objectified. She splayed one hand on his chest for balance while the other grasped between his legs, air leaving his lungs in a rush. Her grin slipped into a mask of determined concentration as she rose up and without preamble sunk down onto him. Completely. His eyes flew wide and his body stilled, unable to process the perfect feeling of being surrounded by her. When reality returned he realized she wasn't breathing either, her eyes closed and her face screwed up in the most beautiful, blissful way.
When she opened her eyes his were there, waiting for her. They locked and didn't sway as she started to move. She slid off him just a fraction before sinking down again, stretching herself, getting used to his size because every single time they did this it felt like the first, except better. Better every single time. Within moments they were seamlessly in sync, partners in every aspect of their lives. She would pull off of him almost completely before slamming down, squeezing her inner muscles right at the end as he rotated his hips in this way that was just way too good. The quiet serenity of the room grew full with their sighs and moans, whispered encouragement. They could get loud, really loud, but though their movements were powerful they unconsciously didn't want to break the peace of the library too badly.
Castle's hands, never able to stay idle for long, began to search, to map the geography of her skin inch by inch, stroking and pinching and caressing. Both her hands were on his chest, her nails scratching lightly as she felt heat begin to radiate from him, a sheen of sweat covering the tan skin of his chest. He worshipped her breasts, small but perfect in his large hands until his mouth burned with the desire to taste. Without warning he planted his feet on the table and drove himself upwards, pushing even deeper into her as he sat up. Kate cried out as her arms whipped around his shoulders in surprise, hanging on as the new angle winded her. He gave her no time to recover, bending her backwards until her chest was bared to him and his lips latched onto a dark, tight nipple.
"Oh god," she breathed as he rolled it between his lips and tongue, scraping it with his teeth. Her fingers wound through his hair, holding him to her as she started to move again, up and down, cradled between his legs. His hands and lips were everywhere, tasting and touching while her hands clutched at him, felt the play of muscles beneath his broad shoulders, across his back, at his hips. He knew she was getting close, her whispered words and half-choked breaths rising higher in pitch and volume. He canted his hips forward and leaned against her, crushing her to him, grinding against her most sensitive bundle of nerves. Her body jerked and she fell backwards, his weight falling on top of her as she slammed into the table, a little harder than he'd intended but she didn't say a word. The push and pull of power in the bedroom was a constant, heady battle, one he was so thankful she let him fight. Her legs wrapped around him and she dug her heels into the small of his back, goading him on.
Castle's hands moved to frame her face, pushing her hair out of the way so he wouldn't slip on the silky strands. But just as he thought he finally had a good grip on the dark wood of the table his sweaty palms gave way. He fell forward at an odd angle, mouth falling open to apologize, but his breath left him when Kate let out a sound that couldn't be called anything but a squeal. A lusty, pleasure soaked, unabashed squeal. He looked down at her in awe, waiting for her to blush, or look away, or something, but she only gazed up at him with dark, hooded eyes and unbridled passion, breathing heavily. He wanted to say something, something that would express how incredible she was, but he found himself at a complete loss for words. Instead he slowly pulled out of her, almost all the way, before thrusting heavily back in, attempting to replicate his accidental move. He gathered it worked as her eyes rolled back in her head and her nails dug into his shoulders, her mouth opening as her breath rushed out of her.
Her perfect lips moved ever so slightly, shaping the breath into a faint yet guttural, "Rick…"
Any semblance of control fled at the sound of his name from her lips. He willed his grip on the table to stay and began to move with purpose, wanting, needing, to hear his name again, to imbed it so deeply in her mind that she'd never utter another man's name again. Her cries ratcheted up, as did his, the sound barrier of the room completely smashed. Bursts of pleasure started crawling up his spine and he knew the end was near. He pounded into her, not caring that his knees would probably be battered and bruised after this. Kate groaned out his name again and he faltered in his rhythm, a hand seeking the place where they were joined, inexorably finding the spot where she needed him the most. He stroked her firmly and within moments felt her fall, her muscles suddenly squeezing him in the most delicious way possible, her back arching and his name breaking from her lips in a lurid exclamation. He followed her down, chanting her name like a prayer, his mind going blank as ecstasy took over his world.
Several minutes later he realized he was lying on top of her, pinning her to the table.
"Oh, crap, sorry…" he mumbled as he forced his weak body off of her, noting her noise of disappointment when he left her body before falling to her side. Thank god the desk was huge. She turned and curled her body towards him, insinuating a long, slender leg between his.
"Hey," she said, blinking tiredly, completely satiated.
"Hey," he grinned.
She tucked both of her lips into her mouth in an impish smile before stretching her neck to kiss him gently.
"I know," he agreed.
"I think this might be my new favourite house."
"You haven't even seen the rest of it!"
"Doesn't matter," she shook her head. "I'd be happy to just stay in this room for the whole weekend."
His grin turned lascivious. "That could be arranged."
She giggled, (Yes, he could make Kate Beckett giggle) and kissed him again. He wanted to call up Guinness book of records and inform them that there was a new happiest man alive. Beckett might think that a touch dramatic though. Ah well.
Her face suddenly clouded over, her eyebrows dipping down.
"What is it?" he was suddenly buzzing with concerned energy, as he always did when she wasn't happy.
"What about them?"
"There were books on the desk… we pushed them off."
"So what if we ruined them?"
He loved that she was so concerned over a book, like a torn page in a book was as bad as a lost limb on a person.
"So what if we did? I'll replace them."
"Castle," she chided turning away from him and sliding on her stomach to the edge of the desk. He was momentarily stunned by being suddenly faced with the expanse of her bare back, the swell of her delectable ass and the endless, endless length of her legs. He turned onto his side; resting his head on his hand while he watched the stretch of skin over muscle as she carefully leaned over the edge and grabbed a book.
"What's this?" she asked, bringing it up and lying down on her back to show him,
His heart skipped a beat. Of course she would find that one first.
The cover was well worn leather, simple and black, with no inscription on the front to indicate what it was.
"That's The Book," he said.
"The Book?" she questioned, fingers hesitating over the cover. He knew the way he said it had made her worry this was something she wasn't supposed to see, something very personal that he wasn't quite ready to share yet. But he softened his face and he reached out to cover her hand with hers and together they opened it.
June 6, 2001.
Alexis loves it here. I couldn't be happier. I think it's everything we both need right now. I already know which room will be the library. We're going to fill it up as fast as possible! But for right now, she wants to check out the beach. I am so with her on that one.
"Castle… is this a diary?" She looked up at him in astonishment.
"As much as I'm sure that would thrill you, no, this isn't a tome of my innermost wishes and desires."
"Damn. I was already getting excited about telling Lanie."
"Gah, you women!" he shook his head fondly. "Turn to the next page."
June 7, 2001
I love it here so much! Daddy says we can come here whenever I want and I can play on the beach and in the pretty pool and he's gonna make me pancakes every morning. I wish Mom could come but Daddy says this isn't a place for her. I don't know what that means but at least I have my Daddy. The best Daddy ever!
"We've always just called it The Book. It's been in this room since the first day I brought Alexis here. We write down any little thought we have, record stories of our adventures, immortalize our silly quotes that usually don't even make sense a few years later."
Kate flipped through a few more pages, laughing out loud at some of the exploits of Castle and his daughter. He knew there was some dark stuff in there, uncensored information about his troubles with Meredith, with Gina, with his writing and the issues of being a single dad with a young daughter. But he wanted Kate to read it, to know it, know everything about him. The thought scared him, yes, he worried every day that she'd realize he was nowhere near good enough for her but he'd made himself a promise. He would give her everything he had, all of him, and let her choose. He loved her enough that if, once she knew his whole story, he wasn't what she wanted, he would let her go, knowing he'd given it his best shot.
She looked up at him again, warmth and happiness and something else shining through her eyes.
"I'm going to read this whole thing, you know," she told him.
"But for now I'm going to do something you're going to hate."
He raised an inquisitive eyebrow and she grinned as she flipped through the book, finding the most recent entry. His heart thudded and he schooled his features, watching her frown when she saw the date. July 27, 2010. Exactly two years and one day ago. She looked up at him but he stayed silent. Her eyes drifted back to the page.
July 27, 2010
I love Katherine Beckett.
She gasped softly, her fingers covering the words as if she couldn't bear to see them. He waited for her to turn away from him, curl up, hide her nakedness and the vulnerability it revealed. His chest hurt. He'd told her before that he loved her, in the cemetery with her blood on his hands and in her apartment, pleading with her for her life. He'd even said it once or twice in the weeks since they'd been together. He knew more than anyone, however, the power of the printed word, of seeing the words in black ink, staring up at you, undeniable and permanent. And she still hadn't said them back. He waited, body coiled with tension for her to say something, react in any way.
Her fingers stayed on the page, blocking his words, but she didn't move her body, staying open and exposed.
"You were up here with Gina that summer," she said in a calm, even voice, devoid of emotion.
He waited for her to continue but she didn't. He took a deep breath and spoke again.
"I was here with Gina but I knew, the whole time, that she wasn't the one I wanted with me."
Kate took in a shaky breath.
"I swore after I wrote that that I wouldn't write another word in that book until you were here with me."
She squeezed her eyes shut and a breath shuddered through her.
"I was going to come with you," she said in a small voice, completely unlike the tough detective he knew.
"You what?" he gasped, his body springing from the table to sit upright, staring down at her, aghast.
She wrapped her arms around the book and laid it on her chest, cradling it like it would protect her.
"Do you remember the day you left for that trip, at the precinct? When we were talking in the hallway..."
His eyes clouded over as he searched his memory.
"You've got to be kidding me," he hissed.
She shook her head, avoiding his gaze.
"You were going to come with me, that very day? You were trying to tell me that you were actually, for real, agreeing to go?"
She nodded, a few bangs slipping across her forehead and shadowing one of her eyes.
"I thought about it for a long time and then suddenly I knew. I broke it off with Tom earlier that day and had this whole speech planned in my head."
"I can't believe this," he moaned, lying down on his stomach and burying his head in his hands.
"Hey, it's ok," she said, a cool hand touching his back and rubbing reassuringly. "I got over it."
"Maybe you did, but god, Kate, all the time we've missed…"
"Don't think of it that way," she said in a firm voice. "Who knows what would have happened if I'd come up then. There's no point dwelling on it because being here with you, now, is everything I could ever ask for."
He moved his head to peek out at her.
"No matter what I thought then I don't think I was actually ready. But now, with those extra years between us… I think now is the right time. For us."
"For us," he repeated. His eyes were so not getting misty.
"You're such a girl, Castle," Kate suddenly laughed. Damn it! How did she always see right through him like that?
"Hey, it's not my fault that I get weak in the knees whenever I look at you. You've got evil powers!"
'Yes, yes, I know, I'm a terrible jedi-witch demon."
"Exactly," he nodded his head with a childishly innocent bob.
"Is there any chance I can use my magic to bewitch you into making me some food? I'm starving."
As if on cue a rumble resounded from her stomach.
"I suppose," he sighed dramatically, sitting up again. He saw her eyes flicker over his chest. "Unless you want me to be the only item on the menu tonight. I go wonderfully with a glass of spicy Shiraz and some whipped cream."
"Don't tempt me, Castle," she groused, also sitting up. "I need fuel if you want to keep going all night."
"All night?" he repeated.
She gave him a scorching look.
"Fuel it is!" he hopped off the table, flexing for half a second because he knew she'd be checking out his butt.
"Yeah yeah," she waved him off when he glanced back to try and catch her. "I like your ass. Get over it and go make me food!"
He looked around for his boxers as he made a last request. "I'll make you food if you promise to write something in The Book."
"Sounds like a fair deal," she shrugged, shifting her body so her legs dangled off the edge of the desk, backlit by the fading light through the window. Another picture perfect fantasy.
"The first entry of many," he added. He planned to bring her back here again. And again and again. She ducked her head, understanding exactly what he meant.
"A very fine deal," she said quietly. He strode quickly towards her, gathering her up in her arms and giving her a deep kiss, full of promise and hope and joy.
"Come find me in the kitchen when you're done," he said, kissing her again.
"Mmmhmm," she agreed, kissing back.
"Dinner," he protested with another kiss.
"Sure." Another kiss.
"Okay, this is the point where if Espo were here he'd be rolling his eyes and calling us disgusting."
"If Espo were here, Castle, we wouldn't be kissing; you'd be heroically trying to block me from view so he doesn't see me naked."
The writer pulled back, his eyes perusing her skin. "Mmm. Very naked."
"Dinner!" she exclaimed, pushing back on his shoulders. He sighed mournfully, giving her one last lewd look before turning and walking towards the door, pulling his jeans up on the way. With a move that bespoke a man without a care in the world he threw the double doors wide open. Kate thought she could hear him humming as walked away, the doors swinging shut behind him. She gracefully hopped off the table, her thighs tightening at the impact with the floor, a delicious ache between them. God he was good. She stepped lightly towards her dress, pulling it on over her head. Dressing was so much easier when you didn't have to worry about under things. She should do it more often. They were rather pointless anyways, when it came to Castle. They just got thrown off of her. She chuckled to herself as she thought of how badly she could tease him if she didn't wear panties to the precinct. Better not, though. He was a great partner; she didn't actually want him to have a heart attack.
She wandered back to the desk and knelt down beside it to gather everything they'd pushed off it, setting it back on the table. She gnawed at the inside of her cheek while she thought about what she should write. Something funny? Something sentimental? She wasn't one for lengthy exposition, so something nice, short, and simple. Something honest. He deserved that.
With a start she realized she knew exactly what to write. She gripped the pen between her fingers as a giddy rush swept through her, making her fingers shake as she started to write. Her scrawl was flowing and neat in a way people rarely saw. She just couldn't be bothered with fine scripture when rushing to jot down ideas on a murder board.
"Kate, you done yet?" She heard his voice echo from somewhere outside the library. "I could use some help here! Or, you know, we could put dinner on hold for a bit and just make out."
Laughter bubbled out of her as she placed the pen on the table and gently closed the book. He could find what she wrote later. Her stomach knotted in thrilled anticipation for when he did, not quite believing what she'd just done. It was too late to take it back now. It was written, permanently inscribed, forever. She heard him calling for her again and smiled, biting her lip. She walked out of the library and towards the kitchen.
The book sat innocently on the table, its pages filled with memories. Hours had been spent looking back through them, bringing forth laughter and tears. Page 247, the ink just dried, waited to be discovered.
July 28, 2012.
I love Richard Castle.
Well there we have it! I realized about halfway through that I was writing it mainly from Castle's perspective which is very odd; usually I end up writing from the female POV, for obvious reasons. But the Hampton's is his place, you know? This is, while monumental for Kate, I think a bit more monumental to Castle. Maybe if I ever wrote a sequel it would be from Kate's eyes ;)
Speaking of Kate, the dress I most likely described in a horrible and unclear way, was supposed to be the white dress Stana wore in For Lover's Only. If you don't know what I'm talking about, say so in a nice little review and I'll send you a link to a pic!
I often use outfits the characters/actors have worn before; I like readers to have as clear an image in their heads as possible!
Speaking of clear images… you all seen the BTS pictures today of them on a boat!? Weeeeeeeh! Had to make a quick addition to the beginning of this story ;)
Please share your thoughts, good, bad or random, and let me know if you have any interest in more Castle fic from me I'd really love to explore this wonderful world, and these amazing characters.
Love and smooches, MajorSam