27. TwentySeven: Friday

Twenty-Seven

Kate agonizes in front of her closet for half an hour, curses Castle a good dozen times for refusing to tell her where they're going. What is it with surprises that makes everybody love them so much?

And Castle more than everybody else. Of course.

Honestly. Knowing is lovely. Knowing is underrated.

She sighs and shifts her weight to her left foot, shivers when a light breeze comes through the open window, caresses her bare skin. She flicks her eyes to the alarm clock. 6:30. She's been standing there in her underwear for exactly twenty-four minutes.

Enough of this, Kate.

She reaches for a cute, demure little black dress, pulls it over her head. The soft, cool fabric clings to her body as she tugs on it; she turns to the floor-length mirror, inspects herself critically.

She looks good, not over-the-top. The V-neck of the dress shows just the right amount of cleavage, and the straps leave her arms bare, showing off her recently-acquired tan. Her skin glows golden in the shaded space of her bedroom. The dress stops just above her knees.

Kate gnaws at her lip, considers.

This is good. This will work, wherever Castle takes her. It's simple enough that she will not look out of place if he takes her to a small, not-that-fancy restaurant; but it's elegant enough for her to be inconspicuous in a more...expensive place.

Right.

She closes her eyes as she exhales, rubs her fingertips to her eyebrow.

Her problem is, she doesn't want to just look good for her date with him. She wants to be stunning. She wants to be unforgettable.

Yes.

She lets out a long breath and takes off the dress in one smooth move, turns back to her closet, eyes roaming over-

Oh. There it is.

She grins as she skims her fingers over the shimmery, so-soft fabric.

Perfect.

He's nervous. Alexis gives him an eyebrow, and snags the tie he picked out, throws it back on his bed. He's been here before with her, hasn't he?

This time it's different.

"This one," she says softly. "Brings out your eyes."

"That's kinda girly," he snorts at her.

She smiles again, that cute one, the one he's seen since she was two or so, closed-mouthed and perky nose, dimple. She's adorable, always has been, and he's so relieved that she seems okay with this.

He never thought she wouldn't be, really, but then there was that strange thing between Alexis and Kate ever since-

Well, ever since Kate was shot. Yeah. That's messed them all up.

"Dad," Alexis says suddenly. "Sooo Kate isn't moving in?"

He pauses in the middle of tying his tie, cuts his eyes to her. Is that disappointment? Or just disappointment in Kate?

"Kate's not moving in," he says determinedly. "Honestly, Kate should probably get back on her feet before any of that."

"You mean because she doesn't have a job? I think some girls, if they didn't have a job, they'd be good with moving in."

He laughs, startled by Alexis's brutal honesty. "Well. I don't think Kate's that kind of girl. She's not a number on a list." He glances at his daughter to check, and he can see she remembers that conversation.

"So, Kate's no bachelorette number three. Good to know. And you're no sugar daddy, then?"

He snorts at her, fumbles his tie, and Alexis takes it from him. "No sugar daddy. Although I try. I swear, I try. She's not interested in it." He sighs exaggeratedly.

Alexis laughs back, some of that stern daughter mask melting away. "Well, good. Because the girls looking for a sugar daddy aren't good enough for you."

"Kate's not a girl, either, you know."

"Huh," Alexis mutters, finishing his tie. "Okay, I'll give you that one. But Dad. I said it then and it's even more true now. I won't be here forever, and I want you to have someone who will look after you."

"She's more than-" He gestures, not sure what he means really, just. More. She's more.

And maybe Kate's not the kind of woman to exactly look after him, but they can look after each other. Partners.

He can barely breathe when he knocks on her door; it's not like he hasn't seen her just about all month. But this is their first official date, or well, this is-

Okay, he has no idea what this is, but he wants to give it to her like a gift. He wants to show her his memories of their last four years and honor them just as she did yesterday at Remy's.

She opens the door and his heart stops.

She gives him a curling grin, reaches out for the flowers, gently takes them from his hand. "Hey."

"Hey," he says dumbly, and comes inside as she tugs on his sleeve. "You look - you look-"

She lifts an eyebrow, pulls him just into the kitchen to get a vase for the flowers. Her body is wrapped in blue, Herve Leger if he remembers right, the deep v-neckline that gives him a tantalizing glimpse of her chest, the open back that reveals the creamy expanse of her skin.

And he's touched it. He's put his mouth on the dusting of freckles right between her spine and shoulder blade, he's pressed his lips to the length of her neck, buried his face right there at her scar - which is not exactly on display, but it's not hidden, it's muted and barely noticeable actually, but-

"Castle? You okay there?"

"I'm having trouble breathing," he gasps out, leans back against the kitchen island, putting his hands on his knees, melodramatic.

She laughs and nudges in between his legs, making him stand up straight. As he lifts, his eyes travel up the beautiful column of her body, and he realizes she's done her hair up just like that night too. The night of his first book party.

But instead of their strange fight, their miscommunication and anger, she's smiling at him, her fingers at his jaw, her mouth coming lightly to his.

"Not-uh," he murmurs. "Behave. Date first."

She grins against his mouth, her eyes roll - just a little, and then she's patting his cheek. "Got it. Date first."

He leans in and gives her a quick kiss, then nuzzles her nose with this, just because he can. "I like this dress on you."

"Oh?" She laughs again. "I could kinda tell." Back then.

He growls at her and kisses her again, then pulls her towards her door. "Date. Let's go before I change my mind."

She's not sure what she was expecting, but a stop-off for coffee isn't really it. "What are we doing, Castle?"

"Aperitifs, first." He holds open the door to their usual coffee place, or well, his usual. He's the one who always came in for coffee, presented it to her every morning like a-

A kiss. Like a kiss in greeting.

She smiles at him, slides her arm through his. He presses hers into his side and leans over to kiss her cheek. "I like your heels too," he murmurs.

She laughs at that, her eyes nearly level with his. "Mm, I do too."

As they step into line at the coffee shop, she glances around and sees it's completely full. And almost every eye has turned to them. Native New Yorkers can forgive a lot, so they're not that conspicuous, but she still feels like she's on her prom date and going for pancakes at IHOP.

Is Castle going to feel her up in the booth as they order greasy food and make eyes at each other? Hands roaming, side by side, with her constantly checking the time to make sure her parents won't start getting worried. . .

"This is kinda surreal," she laughs, leaning in against his side to speak in his ear. She feels him shiver and smiles, laying her head on his shoulder and sliding her hand into his.

"Why's that?"

"Feels like prom. Special night, kind of magical, and you think you're invincible. Nothing bad could ever happen to you like this, when you're dressed up and on your way to something amazing."

He stares at her for a moment and then presses his mouth hard against hers, missing most of it and getting the corner, her chin, but the intensity makes her heart race.

He pulls back and reaches his free hand up to caress her cheek.

"That's what we're doing. On our way to something amazing."

She smiles, captures his hand to press a soft kiss to his palm. "I think maybe we're already there."

"So was that enough like prom for you?" he says, brushing his fingers up and down her arm.

She shrugs against him, her head tilted back against his neck. She turns a little and kisses his adam's apple; he feels her lashes flutter shut.

"You're drunk," he laughs. Dinner was slow and delicate and arousing, and he never knew - how could he know? - it would be like this. Comfortable, easy. The two of them fit right into it. "I think you're drunk, Kate."

"No, no. Just pleasantly buzzing." She hums and curls in the seat, her knees coming up. He catches her thigh and squeezes, keeps her close. Her mouth opens against him, but he thinks she's maybe going to fall asleep. That's okay too.

She's just gorgeous in this dress; she's gorgeous all the time, but lately he's seen the sweating after a run, and the hanging out in his tshirt, and the walking around in her bra and jeans as she searches for something to wear. This dressy, formal, lovely creature in the back of his car service, practically draped over him, is the Beckett he knows from a handful of occasions and never ceases to amaze him, but who - somehow - is his.

"Hey, Kate?"

"I'm awake," she mutters.

"I have something for you."

"I can tell," she murmurs, eyebrows lifting, a hand sliding down his thigh.

He laughs at that, lets her lazily explore. "Not that. I have something for you at my loft."

"Uh-huh, that's almost word for word what my prom date said too," she sighs, but her mouth comes to his jaw and kisses him, a little sloppy, very sweet.

Castle leans down and finds her lips, brushes across them again and again until she rouses, lifts up a little. When he's sure he has her attention, he slides his fingers along her jawline and his thumb strokes her cheekbone. "Kate. I'll take you home after, but first. You wanna come up for a moment?"

She darts in and kisses him below his eye, leans back to look at him. "Of course."

He watches her follow him inside, but there's no hesitation, just the slightly shiny look in her eyes. "You have a good time?"

"Yeah," she sighs, giving him a soft smile. It's not tentative, just happy. Like her smile's rather permanent lately and it goes from soft to brilliant with every flux in their relationship.

He takes her purse and tosses it onto the couch. "Stay right here. I promise I'm taking you back home. Don't move."

She tilts her head at him, lets his fingers go as he heads for his study. It takes only a second, because he's had it nestled on his bookshelf, low, almost as if he didn't want to see it, but couldn't let it go. He comes back with it, feels entirely stupid now, no ceremony and no sense of anticipation. He thrusts it out to her.

"Here."

She takes it from him, eyebrows knitting together. "What is this?"

"Just open it," he says, even though - well, she can see what it is, right?

She slides a fingernail into the Russian nesting doll, cracks it open. And then understanding dawns across her face, her eyes lift to his with breathlessness and wonder.

God, she's gorgeous. He can see it all in her eyes.

"These - were on my desk. You bought them. And all those awful-tasting suckers. The case we were working on when I went to your book party-"

"Wearing that dress," he murmurs, grinning a little.

She grins back, steps closer to him. "I made you take them home."

"You were mad at me. For Nikki Heat." He lifts his lips into a crooked smile.

"No," she says softly. "I was mad at you for not - for ditching Nikki in favor of James Bond."

"James Bond? Oh. Oh that's right. Wait," he glances to the Russian dolls, flicks his eyes back to her. "What do you mean, ditching Nikki?"

"Only one book? I was disappointed. I didn't want you to leave." She cradles the Russian nesting dolls against her chest.

"You didn't?" He laughs and shakes his head at her. "I think I remember, very specifically, you being quite ticked off at me when we found out there'd be three more books."

"Well, I wasn't expecting three," she says, rolling her eyes at him in the way she has where she doesn't even mean it at all, she's just putting on an act-

Oh. Oh, that's what she was doing then too, putting on an act to hide her real feelings. Oh wow. "This is amazing," he whispers and comes in to kiss her again, reverent, happy. "You're amazing."

She kisses him, the Russian dolls between them, and then backs away, her fingers at his chin to hold him off. "You kept them all this time."

"Yeah."

She studies him for a moment, then steps away, fingers trailing down his arm to clasp his hand. "Take me home, Castle."

Kate puts the Russian nesting dolls all in a row on her desk, touches each one with a finger. He kept them; he loves her. Even then?

"Kate?"

She turns around and smiles at him, standing a little awkwardly in her living room in his velvet jacket, his bright tie, the beautiful blue of his eyes. "Dinner was perfect," she says, coming back to him, sliding her arms around his waist.

His whole face crinkles, lights up, and he leans in to kiss her mouth, his light and careful.

"I'm not drunk, Castle," she laughs, raising a hand to capture his cheek, stroke along his jaw. "And yeah, I know you want to go home, but first-?"

"You asking me to do the walk of shame tomorrow morning?"

"Or late, late tonight?"

He hums amusement into her mouth and she gasps, her hips coming into his sharply at the vibration. Now he's laughing, his hands holding her steady.

"You're a little-"

"Shut up, Castle, and make love to me."

He laughs again, but its dark and sensuous and his mouth comes down to hers with a forcefulness that matches the building need in her.

"Walk of shame it is," he mutters.