34. ThirtyFour: Friday

Thirty-Four

Castle stops on the sidewalk at her snort of disapproval, glances up at the edifice in front of him. "You took me to a bar; I'm taking you to a bar. Tit for tat."

"I already showed you my tat."

He spins around to look at her, and she's grinning that sly, so sly smile. Jeez, she's going to kill him, saying stuff like that.

She comes up to him, places a hand on his shoulder and turns him around. "Show me your bar, Castle."

He yanks open the door to the Peculier Pub on Bleecker Street, the entire front face of which is this shocking, terrible red. She tugs on the belt loop of his cargo shorts and he glances back to her.

"It's spelled wrong," she huffs.

"Yeah, that's why I like it."

"It bothers me."

He grins and leads her inside one of his formerly-favorite bars. "It's near NYU, so I was here a lot in the beginning, before I realized that college bars aren't the place to write."

"You wrote here?"

"No," he laughs, shaking his head and finding them a table. "I didn't write here. That was the problem."

She wrinkles her nose as he hands her a stained, paper menu. "Oh, blueberry beer? I - that sounds interesting." She glances up at him. "So. You didn't write."

"I drank. And we saw some shows - a lot of bands would play here on Friday nights, and we'd go."

"Who's we?"

"Me and Kyra."

"Ah, tit for tat."

He shrugs and hopes she doesn't think he's trying to be mean, or spiteful, or - well, he just wants her to have something of what she gave him yesterday. "A little. I like knowing your stories, Kate."

She flashes him a grin. "You know that Carly Simon song?"

He frowns. "'You're So Vain'?"

Kate laughs, a flush coming up her neck as she shakes her head at him. The waitress comes over and interrupts, and Castle scrambles with the menu for a second until ordering chicken tenders and a beer. He just picks a state - Florida - on the extensive beer list and then laughs and orders a Landshark; he hopes it lives up to the name. Kate asks for the Blue Point Blueberry ale, then she customizes a turkey wrap with no bacon, combining a couple of menu items.

Yeah, he probably should lay off the fried foods, but he always gets the chicken tenders here. He can't break tradition.

The waitress leaves and he turns back to Kate. "Am I vain for-"

"No," she chuckles, shredding the paper off the straw the waitress left. "Not what I was thinking. She has a less famous song - I guess it's less famous. 'We Have No Secrets.'"

"Oh."

"We have no secrets; we tell each other most everything. About the lovers in our past, and how they didn't last."

She's half-singing it, sort of, and he likes the way it alters her voice, loves it actually. She's amazingly gorgeous.

She shakes her head. "There's a line I've always liked - 'sometimes I wish, often I wish, I never knew some of those secrets of yours'." She shrugs at him. "Maybe you didn't want to know about Royce?"

"No. I did."

She nods.

"Do you not. . .want to know?"

She shakes her head. "I'm a - was a - cop. I like to know. I was just making sure."

"I'm a writer; I like to know." He grins at her, then the waitress has come back with their beers and two waters. He supposes that's why the straws are on the table, but he ignores the water and takes a swig of his beer. He has to admit it's not as spectacular as the name would suggest.

"So. You and Kyra would come listen to great bands. Instead of writing."

"Yeah. Well no. The bands weren't great. Sometimes they were okay. Some were great, most were dismal."

Kate lifts an eyebrow.

"This one night, we both make our way through the crowd and the music is so loud - well, the bass really - that we can't hear a word we say. I make Kyra ask the bartender for our beers because you actually have to lean over and put your mouth to his ear for him to hear it at all."

Kate's grinning at him, laughter spilling out of her eyes, in the set of her mouth. Hasn't come out yet, not in a sound, but he can tell she's close. Good. He wants her to be happy today.

"So Kyra bellies up to the bar, and this was back when it was just Guinness for me - nothing fancy or anything - so it's simple. I'm right next to her at the bar, my eyes mostly on the band - they had this hot girl bass player and she was pretty awesome-"

"What band?" Kate asks, interest sparking in her eyes.

"Huh? Oh. The Mermen."

Kate tilts her head at him. "You're kidding me."

"No?"

"Are you serious? You saw The Mermen here?"

"Yes." He gives her a little look, asking without asking for her to explain.

"I saw them in San Francisco. At the Filmore. Beach music, surf psychedelic rock?"

He grins. "Yeah. That's them."

"Awesome." She's blinking and then shaking her head, scraping a hand through her hair. "I'm a little blown away that you even know who they are."

"Weird band, hot bass player."

"Right. Yeah. Okay, sorry. Ordering beers."

"Yes. So. Kyra orders, but right then this guy - already drunk - comes barreling up to the bar, crushing her as he gets right in there. He's leaning over her to yell his order to the bartender and Kyra is smashed between him and the bar. He doesn't even seem to know she's there, and I-"

"Oh. You hit him."

He sighs. "You're jumping ahead. Not yet. I grab him by the shoulder and forcibly remove him. Also, I might have said something devastatingly witty but insanely stupid. He punched me in the face."

Kate is pressing her lips together and giving him this really sexy, tender face, like she's both proud of him and also laughing at him, and he goes on with the story.

"Remember how I told you I'd only ever been in one bar fight before?"

"Yeah. That was your one fight?"

"Uh-huh. It went something like this - he punched me, I tackled him back into the bar, his friends yanked me off, I got punched in the eye, the ribs, and then Kyra was standing right in front of me, glaring them down even though she's like the smallest, tiniest girl alive and she couldn't throw a punch if her life depended on it, and I thought - I am going to be in love with this girl forever - if I manage to live past tonight."

Kate reaches across the table and slides her fingers between his, squeezing, and he wonders if maybe that was too much information. "Looks like you've got a track record."

He stares. "Huh?"

"You seem to fall in love with girls who have your back in bar fights."

He grins at her, everything settling in his chest, at ease again. "Yeah, bad-ass girls, maybe so."

"Good thing I actually know how to throw a punch."

He squeezes her fingers back. "Well, I try not to need the backup, but you know me."

"Like I said, good thing I can actually save your ass, Castle."

"Yeah, Beckett, let's hope you never have to save my ass again."

"We'll avoid college bars with drunken frat boys, then." She grins at him, then draws his hand up towards her mouth, kisses his knuckles. "But you know what?"

"What?"

"I've already seen you throw a few punches, Chuck Norris. You hold your own."

Wow. This girl. This woman. He will truly be in love with this woman forever. And amazingly enough, she's looking at him like she returns the favor.