They smooch a lot
Apr. 19th, 2011 07:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stringertheoryFive Times Castle and Beckett Pretended to Make Out (and One Time It Was For Realsies)
This fic and all the nonsense contained therein are dedicated to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nobleplatypus for:
1. Having the idea
2. Foisting it upon me
3. Cackling with me as I wrote it
4. Coming up with some of the best parts
5. Helping me get unstuck when I hit a wall
6. Generally being AWESOME
Beckett and Castle seem to have a default "Distract the Bad Guy" setting: SMOOCHING. That observation (during a long and silliness-prone - though brilliant! - chat session) was the seed for this story.
One
---
“Are you sure he’s going to come this way?”
Castle stretched up onto his toes in an attempt to peer over Beckett’s head and down the sidewalk without pushing them both out of the cover of the alley. Considering that it was nearly midnight, the sidewalks were fairly empty, bar an elderly woman sitting on a bench across the street and the few random passersby. Beckett gently shoved him back into the shadows and continued her surveillance.
“Positive,” she replied. “Jefferson’s extremely paranoid; he follows the exact same routine every day.” She paused as a figure appeared at the end of the street. After it passed under a streetlight and revealed itself to not be Jefferson, she continued. “Esposito and Ryan logged his activities over the past week and this is the route he always took to go home.”
Castle held up a hand. “Wait - I thought paranoid people never followed the same routine, that they mixed it up on purpose so that people like us --” he waggled a thumb between the two of them "-- can’t keep up with them.”
Beckett spared him a quick glance. “There are different kinds of paranoia, Castle. Jefferson’s the kind that clings to routine and sees anything out of the ordinary as a sign of trouble. The slightest thing could set off warning bells inside his head: a newspaper left on a cafe table with a particular article face-up, a neighbor changing the color of his front door --”
“A couple of people peeking around the corner as he walks down the street?”
“Exactly.”
“No, Beckett, he’s walking down the street.”
Castle pointed down the sidewalk, where a pale man in a dark suit was swiftly approaching their hideout. Pulling Castle back into the shadows behind her, Beckett watched Jefferson, one eye barely clearing the edge of the wall in an attempt to avoid detection. Michael Jefferson walked in a slightly hunched way, the tension in his body evident even at a distance. He eyed the people he passed with clear mistrust and suspicion, even going so far as to step into the street to avoid close contact with what appeared to be a college student. Jefferson watched the boy pass before he returned to the sidewalk, but stopped short a few steps later, some twenty yards or so from where Beckett and Castle were hidden.
“Crap,” Beckett breathed.
“What is it?” Castle asked, his voice a rumble in her ear.
“I think he’s on to us.”
“What? How?”
“I don’t know. He shouldn’t be able to see us. I --”
Beckett barely resisted the urge to yelp when Castle suddenly pulled her deeper into the alley. “What are you doing?” she whispered furiously.
“The shadows, Beckett,” Castle said, his face grim. “He can see the shadows.”
Beckett turned back toward the alley entrance. Sure enough, a security light a little ways down the alley from them threw their rough silhouettes out onto the sidewalk, where Jefferson could easily spot them. Beckett cursed under her breath.
“We can’t let him know we were watching him, Castle. It’ll ruin the whole plan and put us right back at square one.”
“Well we can’t go that way,” Castle said, gesturing down the alley, which was bordered by solid wall all the way to the other end, a good sixty feet away, “and we can’t just walk out onto the street, so what do you suggest we do?” He looked at her expectantly.
With the sound of Jefferson’s footsteps growing louder and no chance of escaping unseen, Beckett decided to go for the only other option available. Grabbing Castle by the lapels, she pulled him into a kiss. Castle, not expecting the assault, stumbled slightly, his forward motion pushing them up against the alley wall. Even as Castle recovered and became a more enthusiastic partner in her scheme, Beckett sensed Jefferson appearing at the alley entrance. Opening her eyes a fraction, she was able to see him frowning in their direction. She felt a moment of panic as he continued to stand there longer than was prudent, then a flash of shock as a smile spread across his face. Then he turned and was gone.
Beckett gave it a long count of twenty to be safe before she gave Castle a shove. He stepped back and let out a long breath, throwing a glance toward the entranceway Jefferson had just vacated.
“It worked,” he said, disbelief in his tone. He did a double-take as he took in Beckett’s expression, a grin blossoming on his face. “Do I know what you’re smiling about, Detective Beckett?”
Beckett raised an eyebrow at him. “Our paranoid killer is a romantic.”
Castle threw an arm over her shoulder as they exited they alley, slowly heading in the same direction Jefferson had taken.
“Ah, my dear Detective, aren’t we all?”
“Paranoid killers?”
“Romantics, Beckett. We’re all romantics.”
Two
---
“Do I look like I’d swing both ways, Beckett?”
Castle was inspecting his appearance in the polished steel door in front of them, turning his head from side to side and frowning at his reflection. The pulse of music from the club vibrated inside their chests as they waited for entry. Beckett arched an eyebrow at the question.
“Worried people are getting the wrong idea, Castle?”
He gave her a bland look. “Hardly. I’m just wondering if I was the best choice for this particular undercover assignment.”
“Tell me about it. Ryan was my first choice.”
Beckett caught Castle’s look out of the corner of her eye and didn’t quite manage to muffle the snort of laughter that escaped her. The grin spreading across Castle’s face didn’t help matters and a second later she was laughing out loud, Castle joining in. They were still snickering when the bouncer nodded them into the building a minute later.
The wave of sound hit them like a physical force as they stepped through the door. Beckett took a second for her eyes to adjust to the low lighting before striding into the crowd, Castle’s hand in her own and him following behind as she weaved her way through bodies and to the bar. He ordered them both drinks while she surveyed the place. The club was nearly full, people packed into almost every available area. The dance floor was crowded, people were standing two deep at the bar, and the far wall was lined with two levels of alcoves, many of which containing VIP groups or parties that were spilling out into the club proper. Beckett suppressed annoyance at the possibility that they could be in the place all night just trying to find their suspect, and threw Castle a flirty smile as he handed her a fruity-looking concoction.
“So our bad guy likes couples,” he shouted into her ear, his words just audible over the thumping music. “How, exactly, do we lure him in?”
Beckett gave him a coy look and threaded her arm through his. “By looking like a very inviting couple,” she replied as they headed deeper into the crowd.
After making a slow circuit of the room, she led them to a section of wall opposite the bar that offered a perfect view of the bar itself, the club floor, and both the front door and back exit. She’d been standing there for a few minutes, alternating between scanning the crowd and keeping up appearances by flirting with Castle when she spotted their suspect, Eames. She gave a fake laugh and placed her hand on Castle’s chest, using her eyes to direct his attention toward the guy. Castle gave her a small nod to let her know he understood and stepped a bit closer. She followed suit, playing with Castle’s collar and feeling him place a hand on her waist as they did their best to look appealing to the killer with a preference for couples.
When Eames didn’t so much as glance in their direction, she knew they would have to step things up. She mentally cringed at the first thing that came to mind, sure that any dancing she and Castle attempted would fail to play out the way she planned. Taking another quick glance at Eames, she let her eyes drift around the room, wracking her brain for another possibility. Thankfully, at that moment one of the sofas that lined the dance area was vacated by a trio of co-eds and, with an idea brewing, Beckett seized the opportunity and led Castle over to it.
“Go with me on this,” she told him through a smile, motioning him to sit first.
He gave her a pointed look, but did as she directed. Once he was settled, she sat as well, sliding up as close to him as she could get without actually crawling in his lap. Then she hooked a leg over his knee.
Castle’s eyes widened slightly at that, but to his credit he kept up the act, smiling at her and placing a hand on her leg. She took note of the fact that he was careful to place it as close to her knee as possible. She tried not to take note of how warm his palm was against her skin. Over his shoulder, she saw Eames watching them, his interest clearly piqued. Returning Castle’s smile, Beckett propped her elbow up on the sofa back and started playing with his hair. He raised an eyebrow at her. She leaned closer under the pretense of him whispering - or the equivalent of whispering in jet engine-level sound - in her ear.
“We have to make it good,” she explained.
“To serve and protect,” Castle replied.
When she eased back a bit to look deeply into his eyes, Beckett could see Eames moving toward them through the dance crowd. She gave Castle a slow smile and leaned in, placing her lips against his and running her fingers through his hair. Castle’s hand moved from her knee to her waist, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss.
At first she didn’t register the dip in the sofa cushion as someone sat next to her, but the tap on her shoulder got her attention. She pulled away from Castle - her reluctance to do so both part of the act and something more - and turned to find Eames sitting beside her, grinning charmingly at them.
“You two look like fun,” he shouted over the music.
“If you only knew,” Beckett muttered before returning his smile.
Three
---
“You only agreed to come to this party with me because you wanted to snoop, didn’t you?”
Castle was leaning against the door jam, watching as Beckett shuffled through papers and went through drawers in the office of one Kasper Jorgenson - real estate big wig, newspaper magnate, and murder suspect. Beckett glanced up from her perusal of a datebook at Castle’s tone of voice. Whether it was the low lighting or her imagination, it almost seemed as if he were put out by the thought. She shook her head and moved her search to the nearby liquor cabinet.
“No, I agreed to come to the party because you invited me. I decided to snoop once we got here.”
“You know nothing you find here is admissible. You wouldn’t even be able to bring it up.”
“That’s not the point, Castle. I could find something here that could give me an idea that could lead me to evidence.”
“And have you?”
Beckett sighed and glanced around the room in defeat. “No.”
“Well then can we please go back downstairs? They should be serving the canapes by now, and I’m starving.” Castle dramatically patted his stomach.
“I’m sure you’ll survive the two minutes it takes us to get back downstairs.” Beckett paused in the doorway to brush at the front of his tux. “Okay, let’s go.”
She closed the office door behind them and offered him her arm, which he took with a flourish. They had only taken a few steps toward the main staircase, though, when they heard voices drifting up the stairs toward them. Beckett looked around in panic, but Castle was already dragging her toward the nearest door. Hitching up her dress, she hurried to keep up and quickly followed him into what happened to be a supply closet. Castle managed to ease the door shut noiselessly and, through the slats that made up its panels, they were able to watch as Mr. Jorgenson himself appeared at the top of the stairs, accompanied by a young woman with whom he was having a heated, though quiet, discussion.
The pair stopped a few feet from the closet, and Beckett and Castle inched closer to the door to hear the conversation. Beckett couldn’t help but grin at the direction that conversation took. Her hands itching for a pad and pen, she focused on making mental notes of the highlights.
As the argument continued outside the closet, inside it Beckett was becoming increasingly and uncomfortably aware of how close Castle was standing to her. The small space was filled with the scent of him, a mixture of the smell of new books and coffee and the cologne that she knew he only wore on special occasions. She shifted slightly, hoping to put a little bit of distance between them, to surreptitiously edge away from the heat radiating off of Castle’s body. He seemed to notice, however, and moved as well.
Unfortunately, in doing so his foot knocked against a wash pail, and a metallic ping echoed through the closet. Outside, Jorgenson and his partner went quiet. Beckett winced and peeped through the door slats to see that the pair were staring directly at the closet. She turned to Castle.
“We can’t let them know we heard them!” she whispered.
Castle stared at her, wide-eyed. She stared back at him, knowing what was coming next. She barely had time to tweak her eyebrow in assent, much less release the sigh of resignation she was building, before he’d pulled her into his arms. When Jorgenson yanked open the closet door a few seconds later, Beckett pulled back from Castle’s kiss just long enough to level him with a glare that had stopped murderers in their tracks. The look on Jorgenson’s and his companion’s faces would have been comical had not Beckett been too focused on the feel of Castle’s hands around her waist, the feel of his breath against her neck. She gave Jorgenson a shove and grabbed the door handle.
“Do you mind?”
She slammed the door shut and turned back to Castle, who seemed to follow her logic that further kissing was needed in case Jorgenson was not deterred by her brusqueness. Shortly thereafter, the sound of receding footsteps could be heard. Shortly after that, Beckett pulled away from Castle again. Purposefully avoiding his gaze, she made a show of smoothing the front of her dress and checking the state of her hair. After peeking through the door slats to make sure the coast was clear, she opened the door. Castle followed her out.
“Think that worked?” she asked, still not meeting his eyes.
“Probably,” he said, readjusting his bowtie and not quite looking in her direction, “but let’s not risk it again. I don’t want to get banned from here for life; I kind of like these people.”
That brought Beckett’s head around, and she stared at him, incredulous, as they headed down the stairs. “You like them?”
“Yep.”
“Even though they’re suspected murderers?”
“Especially since they’re suspected murderers.” He caught the look she was giving him. “I’m a writer, Beckett. These people are a gold mine.”
She shook her head at him, but she was smiling. “Unbelievable.”
Four
---
“You’re going to love this, Beckett.”
Beckett made a noncommittal noise as she followed Castle down one side of the theatre. Already, over half the auditorium was filled, and the chatter of friends and strangers alike buzzed through the space. They squeezed their way past a pair of middle-aged couples who were arguing over seats and Castle threw her a look over his shoulder.
“Romance, intrigue, mystery, drama - this play has it all. One of Mother’s friends - Frank something - wrote it specifically for her acting school.” He held the stage curtain aside for Beckett to pass backstage, then followed her. “It’s an embodiment of the concept that there are no small parts in acting. No one on stage is there for decoration. Everyone has a purpose, a reason for appearing onstage, some sort of connection to the other characters that isn’t apparent at first, and the audience has to figure it out as the play goes along.” He stopped midway down the wing and looked at her. “A bit like police work, actually.”
“You brought me to a play about police work?” Beckett asked.
“A play like police work, very different,” Castle replied. “At any rate, I saw most of the dress rehearsal last night and trust me, you’ll love it.”
Beckett started to reply, but was stopped short when someone called Castle’s name. They looked around and spotted Martha in the backstage crowd, dodging scurrying cast and crew members as she hurried toward them.
“Richard! Thank god you’re here. I need you.” She grabbed Beckett’s hand. “And you too, Kate, dear.”
“What’s wrong?” Castle asked.
“I have no couple!” she returned, a frantic note in her voice. “They’re down with mono, of all things, and I have no couple!” She gestured to Castle. “You know how the play is, Richard; I can’t just drop the parts - they have to be there!”
“What about the understudies?” Beckett offered.
Martha shook her head. “Both sets have mono.”
“Both?” Castle asked.
“Yes. Apparently my two Michaels are in love - with each other. The poor Jennifers were just collateral damage.” She suddenly shook both her fists at the sky. “Ooo, I’m so mad I could just --” Cutting herself off with a deep breath, she looked between Beckett and Castle, a steely glint in her eyes. “You two will have to do it; there’s no other choice.” She looked them up and down. “You’re a bit old for the parts, but needs must. The show must go on, and all that. Come on now, off with your coats; curtain’s in two minutes.”
She flapped her hands at them and Castle obediently shed his coat and placed it in her arms before helping a befuddled Beckett out of her own.
“Don’t worry, dear,” Martha reassured Beckett, “Richard knows what to do. Just follow his lead.”
And before Beckett could argue she was off, barking last minute instructions at a stagehand who got a deer in the headlights look as Martha advanced on him. In the ensuing quiet, Beckett tried to make sense of the conversation.
“Castle, what just happened?”
Castle was rolling up his sleeves as he responded. “Ever acted before, Beckett?”
“No,” she replied with the dawning suspicion of what was coming.
“Well, congratulations. It’s your debut.”
Beckett stared at him in shock.
“Excuse me?”
He was eying her critically, and she was too stunned to react when he reached behind her and took out the barrette holding back her hair. “That’s better,” he said, giving her hair a fluff. “You aren’t wearing any lipstick, are you?”
“Castle,” Beckett nearly growled, “what in the hell is going on?”
“We’re about to be Michael and Jennifer,” he said with a grin, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Two young lovers who appear in the opening act.” As the auditorium lights dimmed, throwing the wing into shadow, he stepped closer to the stage and took her hand.
“Doing what, Castle?”
Even in the low light, she could see his grin.
“Well, we don’t have any lines to worry about,” he hinted, and pulled her out onto the darkened stage.
He led her to a small bench in the corner nearest them and they sat down. Beckett’s heart was in her throat and she couldn’t for the life of her understand why she had allowed Castle to haul her onstage. She hadn’t even put up a fight, a thought that would plague her later. For the moment, though, she mostly tried to focus on breathing.
“Castle --”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “Just go with me on this, Beckett,” he whispered back. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before.”
She was pondering his words when the warning call was given. Castle turned to her and took her face in his hands, and she felt her heart flutter with something like stage fright. As the lights came up, he leaned in and began to kiss her gently. In the back of her mind a tiny voice whispered In for a penny.... Without her telling it to, Beckett’s hand found its way onto Castle’s shoulder and she kissed him back, shutting her eyes tight and pretending there wasn’t a packed house sitting just a few feet away, watching her snog her partner. Instead, she prayed the first act was a short one.
Almost as if he had heard her thoughts, Castle broke the kiss and moved to her jawline.
“We’ll only be onstage for about ten or fifteen minutes,” he whispered in her ear, fingers playing with the ends of her hair against her back.
“Oh, is that all?” she returned, giving a breath of laughter.
She could feel his smile as he kissed her again.
Eleven minutes, numerous kisses, a few long looks, and at least one cuddle later they were safely backstage, watching from the wings as the second act began. Beckett didn’t know what to say and Castle, for once, didn’t seem to have anything to say at all. Thankfully they were saved by Martha breezing by again. She took Beckett by the shoulders, giving her a peck on each cheek before doing the same to Castle.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she whispered sincerely. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t showed up.”
“You invited us,” Beckett weakly pointed out.
“Are you going to be good for tomorrow’s show?” Castle asked, the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
Beckett looked around sharply, but Martha was already waving him off.
“No, no, no,” she assured them. “I’ll find someone else. I only needed you tonight because my actors waited until the absolute last second to call in sick.” She looked pensive for a moment. “I suppose we need to cover professionalism in our next class. That being said, if I ever need fill-ins again, I know who to call.” She gave them a knowing smile. “You two do lovers very well.”
And with that, she gone again, tossing whispered directions at everyone she passed. Beckett watched her go with a mix of affection and exasperation. Castle nudged her with his elbow and nodded to the stage door. She nodded in assent and followed him outside into the alley.
“I find that being part of the production really ruins the theatre experience,” he said nonchalantly once they were outside. “So I’m thinking dinner instead?”
“Drinks.”
Beckett was already striding toward the alley entrance, a nearby bar on her mind. Castle hurried after her, tucking his arm through hers as he caught up.
“A toast for your debut?”
“Something like that,” Beckett muttered.
“What?”
“You’re buying.”
Five
---
“Couple’s therapy is a good idea for us.”
“We’re here to catch a murderer, Castle,” Beckett said with a roll of her eyes. “The therapy is just for show.”
“What are we here for, anyway?” he asked as they made their way down the hall. “Therapy wise, I mean?”
Beckett shrugged. “No idea. Esposito and Ryan filled out the paperwork. Shouldn’t be anything too serious, though. Probably some of that new couple ‘getting to know you’ stuff.”
Castle gave her a look, but didn’t respond as he held open the office door and followed her inside.
Couple’s Quest, a private counseling retreat for couples from all walks of life, was the brainchild of Dr. Hannibal Smith and his wife, Dr. Elaine Smith. It was also the last place that two young couples had been seen before their bodies were dumped in Beckett’s jurisdiction. Beckett and Castle had agreed to go undercover to suss out the mysteries of the retreat and its owners. Well, Beckett had agreed; Castle had then volunteered himself.
The Doctors Smith, as they liked to call themselves, sat in mismatched armchairs in front of their large, cluttered desks. Beckett and Castle took the loveseat facing them. Dr. Hannibal flipped through a few papers in the file he was holding and smiled up at them.
“So, Mr. and Mrs. Petrie --”
“Actually,” Castle interrupted, “it’s ‘pee-tree’, like the pterodactyl in The Land Before Time.”
“Just call us Rob and Laura,” Beckett offered, holding back another eye roll.
“Rob and Laura,” Dr. Hannibal began again, “I see from your application that you are most interested in our Physical Intimacy program...”
Beckett nearly choked on her own tongue. She risked a glance at Castle, whose expression perfectly reflected what she was feeling. The doctors noticed, too, and Dr. Elaine leaned forward to pat Beckett on the knee.
“It’s alright to be reticent about this topic,” she assured them. “Most people are. It isn’t something that our society is comfortable discussing.”
“Simply having the strength to admit interest in it is a large step in the right direction,” her husband added. “We can help you. That’s what you’re here for, after all.”
“Just start by telling us what you feel is wrong with your physical relationship,” Dr. Elaine prompted.
Beckett opened her mouth to tell them that there had been a mistake, that their “physical relationship” was just fine, that there had been some sort of mix-up with the paperwork, anything - but Castle beat her to the punch.
“Well, actually... our relationship hasn’t been as physically intimate as I’d like.” He said, ignored the look of shock Beckett threw his way. “And I feel like on the rare occasions when we are intimate, it’s only out of some kind of necessity, like an obligation.”
“That’s not what --!” Beckett cut herself off, furious and mortified. What the hell was Castle playing at anyway?
“Isn’t it?” he replied, giving her a bland look.
“Interesting,” Dr. Hannibal drawled. “I feel like we’re making headway here.” He gestured between the two of them, Beckett glowering and Castle doing a good job of looking innocent and sincere. “Obviously this is a touchy issue for you and is something you need to work out.”
Dr. Elaine spoke up. “Laura, how do you feel about this? Do you agree with Rob’s assessment?”
For a moment, Beckett seriously considered stubbornly refusing to answer any questions. They had to play along for appearance’s sake, but that didn’t mean they had to make the sessions easy, now did it? But then she realized that non-cooperation would only serve to make them stand out as a troubled pair, and the less scrutiny they were under, the better. Not to mention the fact that it would probably mean extra sessions with the doctors, and they needed all the free time they could get for actual detective work. Letting her shoulders drop like she was giving in, she let out a long breath.
“I - he’s right,” she said, catching the brief look of astonishment that passed over Castle’s face out of the corner of her eye. “There doesn’t seem to be that passion there anymore. Whenever we’re intimate, it feels more like habit than desire.”
The Doctors Smith were nodding in understanding.
“We see this all the time,” Dr. Elaine said.
“What’s happened is that you’ve stopped seeing each other,” Dr. Hannibal added. “You’ve fallen into the routine of intimacy without the actual act of being intimate.”
Beckett almost laughed at that, but for some reason it didn’t seem funny. Beside her, Castle had dropped all hint of amusement and was sitting very still, listening to the doctors with intense concentration.
“It’s common among couples who have been together for some time, like the two of you,” Dr. Elaine was saying. “Once the newness of discovery has worn off, once you feel like you know the other person, it is so easy to stop really paying attention to them, to their feelings and reactions.”
“There are many different approaches we can take to this issue, but we find that breaking the ice between partners - and between them and the therapists - is the best starting point.” Dr. Hannibal gave them an encouraging smile.
“We have a method that has worked very well over the years,” said Dr. Elaine. “Why don’t we give it a try?”
Suddenly, Beckett began to regret her decision to play along.
“What you’ll need to do it turn to face each other - that’s it,” Dr. Hannibal directed them, Beckett reluctantly pivoting to face Castle and him doing the same toward her.
“Now just look at each other for a moment,” Dr. Elaine directed in a soothing tone. “Really take in each other. Remember all the different expressions you’ve seen on the other person’s face, all the little things that drew you together. The twinkle in his eye when he tells a joke, the way her face lights up when she smiles - get back in touch with all the memories that have faded.”
Beckett definitely remembered. In truth, she had never forgotten, but all the memories of her time with Castle were that much closer to the surface when he was staring at her so intently. His eyes were blue. The thought flashed across her mind that if someone had asked her before now, she wouldn’t have been able to tell them that. He was the person she spent the most time with, but she wouldn’t have been able to recall the color of his eyes. It was the way of the human brain, she reflected. Witnesses could never recall details of what they had seen; she couldn’t remember the color of partner’s eyes. The little things, the most important ones, they got lost in the shuffle.
Dr. Hannibal’s voice broke her inner monologue.
“The next step won’t be as easy,” he warned. “I’ll explain the reasoning behind it, but I want you to keep focusing on one another.” He paused to make sure they were doing so, gazes unwavering, before he continued. “The next step is for you to kiss.”
Thanks to their close proximity - and even closer study of one another - Beckett was able to see Castle’s eyes widen slightly, his pupils dilating in response to the instruction.
Dr. Elaine picked up where her husband had left off. “It may seem a strange request, and most couples initially feel that it is invasive, but kissing here in front of us is much less public than kissing on a park bench, or at the cinema. Try to think of it in these terms: if you went to the doctor with a hurt knee, would you simply tell the doctor your knee was hurt and then expect him to tell you straight away exactly what was wrong? No, of course not! You would want him to manipulate the knee, take X-rays or MRIs, and use other diagnostic tools to figure out what the problem was.”
“That’s all we’re doing,” Dr. Hannibal said. “We want to see how you react to one another to get a visual representation of how deep your physical intimacy issues go. Our being here, observing, also serves to heighten the experience for you; because you are aware of us being aware of you, you also become more aware of one another - something that we have already established as being your main issue.”
“What we need from you is a kiss --”
“Kissing,” her husband corrected.
“Kissing - as if it would be leading to something more - just for a minute or two.”
Throughout the explanation, Castle’s expression had not changed. He looked pensive, responsive, ready. She knew that look. It was the same one he wore every time they were neck deep in a case, every time one or the other of them was about to need the other party to go along with them on something. He had already made up his mind to keep up this particular charade until the bitter end; he was just waiting for her to make the move in that direction.
The Doctors Smith were watching them expectantly, she knew, and Castle wouldn’t move until she did. She mentally cursed him for running with the “physical intimacy” story, she cursed Ryan and Esposito for setting it up in the first place, and she cursed herself for so blithely deciding to play along. But they were here now and there was nothing for it. Stealing herself, she leaned forward. Castle mirrored her actions, and they met in a kiss.
Beckett’s body was a wash of sensation. She was intensely aware of how close Castle’s body was to hers, the tilt of his head, the feel of his lips. Her head swam with his scent and where his hand cupped her cheek her skin tingled. She did her best not to think at all.
What could have been seconds or days later, a pointed cough from one of the doctors caught Beckett’s attention and she jumped back from Castle like she had been pinched. She didn’t dare look at him. She wasn’t at all sure about the turn their “therapy” session had taken, but the doctors themselves looked inordinately pleased with their progress and shooed them off until that afternoon - which, she was advised, would begin part two of their road to better intimacy.
Beckett muttered something unintelligible in response and exited the office as slowly and calmly as she could muster, Castle at her heels. They paused at the end of the hallway, taking in the other retreat patrons lounging in the recreation area. Beckett let out a breath.
“Castle...” she began.
“We are totally good at this undercover thing,” Castle said quickly. “I think we should do undercover all the time.”
Beckett knew he was trying to dispel the odd aura brought on by their session, or at least she suspected that was what he was trying to do, though he could have genuinely believed in the undercover idea. Then again, it could have been a combination of both; you never really knew with Castle. At any rate, she was grateful, and she mustered up a smile for him.
“Only spies do 24/7 undercover, Castle.”
“Then we should be spies, Beckett.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they meandered into the rec room. “Just think about it: my brains, your brawn - we’d be unstoppable.”
She elbowed him in the stomach.
“What?” he protested. “We would be!”
For Realsies
---
“You know, Beckett, I think one bomb scare per lifetime should be enough.”
Beckett pulled the blanket the EMT had draped across her shoulders tighter around her body and sighed. She and Castle were still sitting in the back of the ambulance, blanket-draped and sooty, while paramedics and New York’s finest dealt with the aftermath of the duo’s most recent trouble and the crowd that had accumulated as a result. As the paramedic - Luis, she remembered - bandaged a cut on her forehead, she rolled her eyes in Castle’s direction.
“This wasn’t a bomb, Castle.”
“Sounded like a bomb,” he retorted, “looked like a bomb. Felt like a bomb.” He rolled his shoulder - the one he landed on, Beckett thought - and winced.
Beckett frowned. “Technically, I suppose you could call it a bomb --”
“Yes, you could.”
“-- but really it was only an explosive charge laid around the door.”
“It went boom. Things blew up. Most of the wall the door was in is now rubble.” Castle’s look was somehow both amused and serious. “It. Was. A. Bomb. Either that, or a very tiny supernova.”
Grace, the paramedic working on Castle, gave a snort of laughter that she quickly turned into a cough. Having finished with Castle’s injuries, she then excused herself and hurried off, shoulders shaking with silent amusement. Luis, shaking his head at his giggly partner’s antics, moved to wrapping Beckett’s wrist, sprained during the blast. As she watched Grace leave, Beckett spared a moment to contemplate what it said about her life that she knew most of the area EMTs by name. Not much worth repeating, she thought glumly, though Castle would no doubt find a way to twist it into a bestseller. Castle’s voice pulled her from her thoughts just as Luis completed his bandaging job.
“Actually, this would be at least your third bomb.”
“Explosion,” Beckett correctly automatically.
“Ah, but I disarmed one, so it was a mere bomb, not an explosion,” Castle replied with a smug grin.
“And the other one?”
She was surprised when the smile slid off his face and his expression grew serious. He turned to stare out toward the crowd before he answered.
“Dunn.”
The chill that came over her had little to do with the night air. She swallowed the residual fear and anger that name still produced and took a deep breath. She could just make out the moon between two buildings in the distance. Though the skies were clear at the moment, there would be rain later; she could smell it in the air. She hoped the clean-up crews would be able to get done before then.
Beside her, Castle rolled his shoulder again, hissing a little at the movement, and she looked over in concern. He had taken a hard hit, angling himself so that he managed to somehow hit the ground first and cover her from the blast. She could still feel the weight of him as he lay over her, debris raining down on his back, the building on fire behind him. In thinking back on it - the click of the wire being tripped as she opened the door - she was surprised (and a bit troubled) that he had reacted before she did. In truth, the thought made her feel guilty. She was the police officer, she was the one who was supposed to do the protecting. She hadn’t, and now Castle was hurt.
Untangling her arm from the blanket, she placed a gentle hand on his back.
“You okay?”
He nodded and gave her a smile. “Just a little sore. Guess I’ll have to cancel those ballroom dancing lessons I got for Alexis’ birthday. Mind you, I didn’t think I’d do all that well at them anyway - and there’s a poker match scheduled for that night - so I won’t be too devastated not to go.” His face lit up as he got an idea. “Actually, this could be a blessing in disguise. I’ll secretly arrange for Ashley to take my place - it’s perfect. Alexis will get two birthday surprises instead of one.” He beamed at Beckett. “I’m the best dad ever.”
Beckett knew that Castle kept talking after his proclamation but for once, she really wasn’t listening. Something in what he had said, in what had happened, in the cut across his cheek or the way his eyes shined as he talked about Alexis had done something to her. Beckett stared at him as he chattered on in that way of his, not waiting for any response or encouragement, and before she knew what she was doing, she had grabbed him around the neck with her good hand and pulled him into a kiss.
His lips were still trying to form words for the first second or so, but then he returned the kiss with intent, one hand drifting up to gently cup the back of her head. When Beckett finally broke away to take a breath, Castle’s expression was slightly dazed and he looked at her in bemusement. She smiled.
“Shut up, Castle.”
Then she pulled him back in for another kiss.
Across the lot, near the cordon lines and leaning against the front of their patrol car, Esposito and Ryan watched with approval as events unfolded in the back of the ambulance. Both had their phones out and were nonchalantly snapping pictures of the make-out session their other two partners had just initiated. Ryan admired one snapshot in particular, angling his phone so that Esposito could see.
“Oh, that’s a good one,” Esposito agreed.
“Making it my background,” Ryan advised, tapping at his phone screen.
“Already anonymously posted this one on the department webpage,” Esposito replied, earning a snicker from his partner. Without glancing up from his phone, he held up a fist. “Good job on the couple’s retreat, bro.”
Ryan tapped fists with him, grinning smugly. “Good job, bro.”
“They’ll thank us in twenty years,” Esposito said.
“Maybe they’ll name the kids after us.”
Keep an eye out for an epilogue of sorts. MWAHAHAHA! *moustache twirl*
This fic and all the nonsense contained therein are dedicated to
nobleplatypus for:1. Having the idea
2. Foisting it upon me
3. Cackling with me as I wrote it
4. Coming up with some of the best parts
5. Helping me get unstuck when I hit a wall
6. Generally being AWESOME
Beckett and Castle seem to have a default "Distract the Bad Guy" setting: SMOOCHING. That observation (during a long and silliness-prone - though brilliant! - chat session) was the seed for this story.
One
---
“Are you sure he’s going to come this way?”
Castle stretched up onto his toes in an attempt to peer over Beckett’s head and down the sidewalk without pushing them both out of the cover of the alley. Considering that it was nearly midnight, the sidewalks were fairly empty, bar an elderly woman sitting on a bench across the street and the few random passersby. Beckett gently shoved him back into the shadows and continued her surveillance.
“Positive,” she replied. “Jefferson’s extremely paranoid; he follows the exact same routine every day.” She paused as a figure appeared at the end of the street. After it passed under a streetlight and revealed itself to not be Jefferson, she continued. “Esposito and Ryan logged his activities over the past week and this is the route he always took to go home.”
Castle held up a hand. “Wait - I thought paranoid people never followed the same routine, that they mixed it up on purpose so that people like us --” he waggled a thumb between the two of them "-- can’t keep up with them.”
Beckett spared him a quick glance. “There are different kinds of paranoia, Castle. Jefferson’s the kind that clings to routine and sees anything out of the ordinary as a sign of trouble. The slightest thing could set off warning bells inside his head: a newspaper left on a cafe table with a particular article face-up, a neighbor changing the color of his front door --”
“A couple of people peeking around the corner as he walks down the street?”
“Exactly.”
“No, Beckett, he’s walking down the street.”
Castle pointed down the sidewalk, where a pale man in a dark suit was swiftly approaching their hideout. Pulling Castle back into the shadows behind her, Beckett watched Jefferson, one eye barely clearing the edge of the wall in an attempt to avoid detection. Michael Jefferson walked in a slightly hunched way, the tension in his body evident even at a distance. He eyed the people he passed with clear mistrust and suspicion, even going so far as to step into the street to avoid close contact with what appeared to be a college student. Jefferson watched the boy pass before he returned to the sidewalk, but stopped short a few steps later, some twenty yards or so from where Beckett and Castle were hidden.
“Crap,” Beckett breathed.
“What is it?” Castle asked, his voice a rumble in her ear.
“I think he’s on to us.”
“What? How?”
“I don’t know. He shouldn’t be able to see us. I --”
Beckett barely resisted the urge to yelp when Castle suddenly pulled her deeper into the alley. “What are you doing?” she whispered furiously.
“The shadows, Beckett,” Castle said, his face grim. “He can see the shadows.”
Beckett turned back toward the alley entrance. Sure enough, a security light a little ways down the alley from them threw their rough silhouettes out onto the sidewalk, where Jefferson could easily spot them. Beckett cursed under her breath.
“We can’t let him know we were watching him, Castle. It’ll ruin the whole plan and put us right back at square one.”
“Well we can’t go that way,” Castle said, gesturing down the alley, which was bordered by solid wall all the way to the other end, a good sixty feet away, “and we can’t just walk out onto the street, so what do you suggest we do?” He looked at her expectantly.
With the sound of Jefferson’s footsteps growing louder and no chance of escaping unseen, Beckett decided to go for the only other option available. Grabbing Castle by the lapels, she pulled him into a kiss. Castle, not expecting the assault, stumbled slightly, his forward motion pushing them up against the alley wall. Even as Castle recovered and became a more enthusiastic partner in her scheme, Beckett sensed Jefferson appearing at the alley entrance. Opening her eyes a fraction, she was able to see him frowning in their direction. She felt a moment of panic as he continued to stand there longer than was prudent, then a flash of shock as a smile spread across his face. Then he turned and was gone.
Beckett gave it a long count of twenty to be safe before she gave Castle a shove. He stepped back and let out a long breath, throwing a glance toward the entranceway Jefferson had just vacated.
“It worked,” he said, disbelief in his tone. He did a double-take as he took in Beckett’s expression, a grin blossoming on his face. “Do I know what you’re smiling about, Detective Beckett?”
Beckett raised an eyebrow at him. “Our paranoid killer is a romantic.”
Castle threw an arm over her shoulder as they exited they alley, slowly heading in the same direction Jefferson had taken.
“Ah, my dear Detective, aren’t we all?”
“Paranoid killers?”
“Romantics, Beckett. We’re all romantics.”
Two
---
“Do I look like I’d swing both ways, Beckett?”
Castle was inspecting his appearance in the polished steel door in front of them, turning his head from side to side and frowning at his reflection. The pulse of music from the club vibrated inside their chests as they waited for entry. Beckett arched an eyebrow at the question.
“Worried people are getting the wrong idea, Castle?”
He gave her a bland look. “Hardly. I’m just wondering if I was the best choice for this particular undercover assignment.”
“Tell me about it. Ryan was my first choice.”
Beckett caught Castle’s look out of the corner of her eye and didn’t quite manage to muffle the snort of laughter that escaped her. The grin spreading across Castle’s face didn’t help matters and a second later she was laughing out loud, Castle joining in. They were still snickering when the bouncer nodded them into the building a minute later.
The wave of sound hit them like a physical force as they stepped through the door. Beckett took a second for her eyes to adjust to the low lighting before striding into the crowd, Castle’s hand in her own and him following behind as she weaved her way through bodies and to the bar. He ordered them both drinks while she surveyed the place. The club was nearly full, people packed into almost every available area. The dance floor was crowded, people were standing two deep at the bar, and the far wall was lined with two levels of alcoves, many of which containing VIP groups or parties that were spilling out into the club proper. Beckett suppressed annoyance at the possibility that they could be in the place all night just trying to find their suspect, and threw Castle a flirty smile as he handed her a fruity-looking concoction.
“So our bad guy likes couples,” he shouted into her ear, his words just audible over the thumping music. “How, exactly, do we lure him in?”
Beckett gave him a coy look and threaded her arm through his. “By looking like a very inviting couple,” she replied as they headed deeper into the crowd.
After making a slow circuit of the room, she led them to a section of wall opposite the bar that offered a perfect view of the bar itself, the club floor, and both the front door and back exit. She’d been standing there for a few minutes, alternating between scanning the crowd and keeping up appearances by flirting with Castle when she spotted their suspect, Eames. She gave a fake laugh and placed her hand on Castle’s chest, using her eyes to direct his attention toward the guy. Castle gave her a small nod to let her know he understood and stepped a bit closer. She followed suit, playing with Castle’s collar and feeling him place a hand on her waist as they did their best to look appealing to the killer with a preference for couples.
When Eames didn’t so much as glance in their direction, she knew they would have to step things up. She mentally cringed at the first thing that came to mind, sure that any dancing she and Castle attempted would fail to play out the way she planned. Taking another quick glance at Eames, she let her eyes drift around the room, wracking her brain for another possibility. Thankfully, at that moment one of the sofas that lined the dance area was vacated by a trio of co-eds and, with an idea brewing, Beckett seized the opportunity and led Castle over to it.
“Go with me on this,” she told him through a smile, motioning him to sit first.
He gave her a pointed look, but did as she directed. Once he was settled, she sat as well, sliding up as close to him as she could get without actually crawling in his lap. Then she hooked a leg over his knee.
Castle’s eyes widened slightly at that, but to his credit he kept up the act, smiling at her and placing a hand on her leg. She took note of the fact that he was careful to place it as close to her knee as possible. She tried not to take note of how warm his palm was against her skin. Over his shoulder, she saw Eames watching them, his interest clearly piqued. Returning Castle’s smile, Beckett propped her elbow up on the sofa back and started playing with his hair. He raised an eyebrow at her. She leaned closer under the pretense of him whispering - or the equivalent of whispering in jet engine-level sound - in her ear.
“We have to make it good,” she explained.
“To serve and protect,” Castle replied.
When she eased back a bit to look deeply into his eyes, Beckett could see Eames moving toward them through the dance crowd. She gave Castle a slow smile and leaned in, placing her lips against his and running her fingers through his hair. Castle’s hand moved from her knee to her waist, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss.
At first she didn’t register the dip in the sofa cushion as someone sat next to her, but the tap on her shoulder got her attention. She pulled away from Castle - her reluctance to do so both part of the act and something more - and turned to find Eames sitting beside her, grinning charmingly at them.
“You two look like fun,” he shouted over the music.
“If you only knew,” Beckett muttered before returning his smile.
Three
---
“You only agreed to come to this party with me because you wanted to snoop, didn’t you?”
Castle was leaning against the door jam, watching as Beckett shuffled through papers and went through drawers in the office of one Kasper Jorgenson - real estate big wig, newspaper magnate, and murder suspect. Beckett glanced up from her perusal of a datebook at Castle’s tone of voice. Whether it was the low lighting or her imagination, it almost seemed as if he were put out by the thought. She shook her head and moved her search to the nearby liquor cabinet.
“No, I agreed to come to the party because you invited me. I decided to snoop once we got here.”
“You know nothing you find here is admissible. You wouldn’t even be able to bring it up.”
“That’s not the point, Castle. I could find something here that could give me an idea that could lead me to evidence.”
“And have you?”
Beckett sighed and glanced around the room in defeat. “No.”
“Well then can we please go back downstairs? They should be serving the canapes by now, and I’m starving.” Castle dramatically patted his stomach.
“I’m sure you’ll survive the two minutes it takes us to get back downstairs.” Beckett paused in the doorway to brush at the front of his tux. “Okay, let’s go.”
She closed the office door behind them and offered him her arm, which he took with a flourish. They had only taken a few steps toward the main staircase, though, when they heard voices drifting up the stairs toward them. Beckett looked around in panic, but Castle was already dragging her toward the nearest door. Hitching up her dress, she hurried to keep up and quickly followed him into what happened to be a supply closet. Castle managed to ease the door shut noiselessly and, through the slats that made up its panels, they were able to watch as Mr. Jorgenson himself appeared at the top of the stairs, accompanied by a young woman with whom he was having a heated, though quiet, discussion.
The pair stopped a few feet from the closet, and Beckett and Castle inched closer to the door to hear the conversation. Beckett couldn’t help but grin at the direction that conversation took. Her hands itching for a pad and pen, she focused on making mental notes of the highlights.
As the argument continued outside the closet, inside it Beckett was becoming increasingly and uncomfortably aware of how close Castle was standing to her. The small space was filled with the scent of him, a mixture of the smell of new books and coffee and the cologne that she knew he only wore on special occasions. She shifted slightly, hoping to put a little bit of distance between them, to surreptitiously edge away from the heat radiating off of Castle’s body. He seemed to notice, however, and moved as well.
Unfortunately, in doing so his foot knocked against a wash pail, and a metallic ping echoed through the closet. Outside, Jorgenson and his partner went quiet. Beckett winced and peeped through the door slats to see that the pair were staring directly at the closet. She turned to Castle.
“We can’t let them know we heard them!” she whispered.
Castle stared at her, wide-eyed. She stared back at him, knowing what was coming next. She barely had time to tweak her eyebrow in assent, much less release the sigh of resignation she was building, before he’d pulled her into his arms. When Jorgenson yanked open the closet door a few seconds later, Beckett pulled back from Castle’s kiss just long enough to level him with a glare that had stopped murderers in their tracks. The look on Jorgenson’s and his companion’s faces would have been comical had not Beckett been too focused on the feel of Castle’s hands around her waist, the feel of his breath against her neck. She gave Jorgenson a shove and grabbed the door handle.
“Do you mind?”
She slammed the door shut and turned back to Castle, who seemed to follow her logic that further kissing was needed in case Jorgenson was not deterred by her brusqueness. Shortly thereafter, the sound of receding footsteps could be heard. Shortly after that, Beckett pulled away from Castle again. Purposefully avoiding his gaze, she made a show of smoothing the front of her dress and checking the state of her hair. After peeking through the door slats to make sure the coast was clear, she opened the door. Castle followed her out.
“Think that worked?” she asked, still not meeting his eyes.
“Probably,” he said, readjusting his bowtie and not quite looking in her direction, “but let’s not risk it again. I don’t want to get banned from here for life; I kind of like these people.”
That brought Beckett’s head around, and she stared at him, incredulous, as they headed down the stairs. “You like them?”
“Yep.”
“Even though they’re suspected murderers?”
“Especially since they’re suspected murderers.” He caught the look she was giving him. “I’m a writer, Beckett. These people are a gold mine.”
She shook her head at him, but she was smiling. “Unbelievable.”
Four
---
“You’re going to love this, Beckett.”
Beckett made a noncommittal noise as she followed Castle down one side of the theatre. Already, over half the auditorium was filled, and the chatter of friends and strangers alike buzzed through the space. They squeezed their way past a pair of middle-aged couples who were arguing over seats and Castle threw her a look over his shoulder.
“Romance, intrigue, mystery, drama - this play has it all. One of Mother’s friends - Frank something - wrote it specifically for her acting school.” He held the stage curtain aside for Beckett to pass backstage, then followed her. “It’s an embodiment of the concept that there are no small parts in acting. No one on stage is there for decoration. Everyone has a purpose, a reason for appearing onstage, some sort of connection to the other characters that isn’t apparent at first, and the audience has to figure it out as the play goes along.” He stopped midway down the wing and looked at her. “A bit like police work, actually.”
“You brought me to a play about police work?” Beckett asked.
“A play like police work, very different,” Castle replied. “At any rate, I saw most of the dress rehearsal last night and trust me, you’ll love it.”
Beckett started to reply, but was stopped short when someone called Castle’s name. They looked around and spotted Martha in the backstage crowd, dodging scurrying cast and crew members as she hurried toward them.
“Richard! Thank god you’re here. I need you.” She grabbed Beckett’s hand. “And you too, Kate, dear.”
“What’s wrong?” Castle asked.
“I have no couple!” she returned, a frantic note in her voice. “They’re down with mono, of all things, and I have no couple!” She gestured to Castle. “You know how the play is, Richard; I can’t just drop the parts - they have to be there!”
“What about the understudies?” Beckett offered.
Martha shook her head. “Both sets have mono.”
“Both?” Castle asked.
“Yes. Apparently my two Michaels are in love - with each other. The poor Jennifers were just collateral damage.” She suddenly shook both her fists at the sky. “Ooo, I’m so mad I could just --” Cutting herself off with a deep breath, she looked between Beckett and Castle, a steely glint in her eyes. “You two will have to do it; there’s no other choice.” She looked them up and down. “You’re a bit old for the parts, but needs must. The show must go on, and all that. Come on now, off with your coats; curtain’s in two minutes.”
She flapped her hands at them and Castle obediently shed his coat and placed it in her arms before helping a befuddled Beckett out of her own.
“Don’t worry, dear,” Martha reassured Beckett, “Richard knows what to do. Just follow his lead.”
And before Beckett could argue she was off, barking last minute instructions at a stagehand who got a deer in the headlights look as Martha advanced on him. In the ensuing quiet, Beckett tried to make sense of the conversation.
“Castle, what just happened?”
Castle was rolling up his sleeves as he responded. “Ever acted before, Beckett?”
“No,” she replied with the dawning suspicion of what was coming.
“Well, congratulations. It’s your debut.”
Beckett stared at him in shock.
“Excuse me?”
He was eying her critically, and she was too stunned to react when he reached behind her and took out the barrette holding back her hair. “That’s better,” he said, giving her hair a fluff. “You aren’t wearing any lipstick, are you?”
“Castle,” Beckett nearly growled, “what in the hell is going on?”
“We’re about to be Michael and Jennifer,” he said with a grin, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Two young lovers who appear in the opening act.” As the auditorium lights dimmed, throwing the wing into shadow, he stepped closer to the stage and took her hand.
“Doing what, Castle?”
Even in the low light, she could see his grin.
“Well, we don’t have any lines to worry about,” he hinted, and pulled her out onto the darkened stage.
He led her to a small bench in the corner nearest them and they sat down. Beckett’s heart was in her throat and she couldn’t for the life of her understand why she had allowed Castle to haul her onstage. She hadn’t even put up a fight, a thought that would plague her later. For the moment, though, she mostly tried to focus on breathing.
“Castle --”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “Just go with me on this, Beckett,” he whispered back. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before.”
She was pondering his words when the warning call was given. Castle turned to her and took her face in his hands, and she felt her heart flutter with something like stage fright. As the lights came up, he leaned in and began to kiss her gently. In the back of her mind a tiny voice whispered In for a penny.... Without her telling it to, Beckett’s hand found its way onto Castle’s shoulder and she kissed him back, shutting her eyes tight and pretending there wasn’t a packed house sitting just a few feet away, watching her snog her partner. Instead, she prayed the first act was a short one.
Almost as if he had heard her thoughts, Castle broke the kiss and moved to her jawline.
“We’ll only be onstage for about ten or fifteen minutes,” he whispered in her ear, fingers playing with the ends of her hair against her back.
“Oh, is that all?” she returned, giving a breath of laughter.
She could feel his smile as he kissed her again.
Eleven minutes, numerous kisses, a few long looks, and at least one cuddle later they were safely backstage, watching from the wings as the second act began. Beckett didn’t know what to say and Castle, for once, didn’t seem to have anything to say at all. Thankfully they were saved by Martha breezing by again. She took Beckett by the shoulders, giving her a peck on each cheek before doing the same to Castle.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she whispered sincerely. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t showed up.”
“You invited us,” Beckett weakly pointed out.
“Are you going to be good for tomorrow’s show?” Castle asked, the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
Beckett looked around sharply, but Martha was already waving him off.
“No, no, no,” she assured them. “I’ll find someone else. I only needed you tonight because my actors waited until the absolute last second to call in sick.” She looked pensive for a moment. “I suppose we need to cover professionalism in our next class. That being said, if I ever need fill-ins again, I know who to call.” She gave them a knowing smile. “You two do lovers very well.”
And with that, she gone again, tossing whispered directions at everyone she passed. Beckett watched her go with a mix of affection and exasperation. Castle nudged her with his elbow and nodded to the stage door. She nodded in assent and followed him outside into the alley.
“I find that being part of the production really ruins the theatre experience,” he said nonchalantly once they were outside. “So I’m thinking dinner instead?”
“Drinks.”
Beckett was already striding toward the alley entrance, a nearby bar on her mind. Castle hurried after her, tucking his arm through hers as he caught up.
“A toast for your debut?”
“Something like that,” Beckett muttered.
“What?”
“You’re buying.”
Five
---
“Couple’s therapy is a good idea for us.”
“We’re here to catch a murderer, Castle,” Beckett said with a roll of her eyes. “The therapy is just for show.”
“What are we here for, anyway?” he asked as they made their way down the hall. “Therapy wise, I mean?”
Beckett shrugged. “No idea. Esposito and Ryan filled out the paperwork. Shouldn’t be anything too serious, though. Probably some of that new couple ‘getting to know you’ stuff.”
Castle gave her a look, but didn’t respond as he held open the office door and followed her inside.
Couple’s Quest, a private counseling retreat for couples from all walks of life, was the brainchild of Dr. Hannibal Smith and his wife, Dr. Elaine Smith. It was also the last place that two young couples had been seen before their bodies were dumped in Beckett’s jurisdiction. Beckett and Castle had agreed to go undercover to suss out the mysteries of the retreat and its owners. Well, Beckett had agreed; Castle had then volunteered himself.
The Doctors Smith, as they liked to call themselves, sat in mismatched armchairs in front of their large, cluttered desks. Beckett and Castle took the loveseat facing them. Dr. Hannibal flipped through a few papers in the file he was holding and smiled up at them.
“So, Mr. and Mrs. Petrie --”
“Actually,” Castle interrupted, “it’s ‘pee-tree’, like the pterodactyl in The Land Before Time.”
“Just call us Rob and Laura,” Beckett offered, holding back another eye roll.
“Rob and Laura,” Dr. Hannibal began again, “I see from your application that you are most interested in our Physical Intimacy program...”
Beckett nearly choked on her own tongue. She risked a glance at Castle, whose expression perfectly reflected what she was feeling. The doctors noticed, too, and Dr. Elaine leaned forward to pat Beckett on the knee.
“It’s alright to be reticent about this topic,” she assured them. “Most people are. It isn’t something that our society is comfortable discussing.”
“Simply having the strength to admit interest in it is a large step in the right direction,” her husband added. “We can help you. That’s what you’re here for, after all.”
“Just start by telling us what you feel is wrong with your physical relationship,” Dr. Elaine prompted.
Beckett opened her mouth to tell them that there had been a mistake, that their “physical relationship” was just fine, that there had been some sort of mix-up with the paperwork, anything - but Castle beat her to the punch.
“Well, actually... our relationship hasn’t been as physically intimate as I’d like.” He said, ignored the look of shock Beckett threw his way. “And I feel like on the rare occasions when we are intimate, it’s only out of some kind of necessity, like an obligation.”
“That’s not what --!” Beckett cut herself off, furious and mortified. What the hell was Castle playing at anyway?
“Isn’t it?” he replied, giving her a bland look.
“Interesting,” Dr. Hannibal drawled. “I feel like we’re making headway here.” He gestured between the two of them, Beckett glowering and Castle doing a good job of looking innocent and sincere. “Obviously this is a touchy issue for you and is something you need to work out.”
Dr. Elaine spoke up. “Laura, how do you feel about this? Do you agree with Rob’s assessment?”
For a moment, Beckett seriously considered stubbornly refusing to answer any questions. They had to play along for appearance’s sake, but that didn’t mean they had to make the sessions easy, now did it? But then she realized that non-cooperation would only serve to make them stand out as a troubled pair, and the less scrutiny they were under, the better. Not to mention the fact that it would probably mean extra sessions with the doctors, and they needed all the free time they could get for actual detective work. Letting her shoulders drop like she was giving in, she let out a long breath.
“I - he’s right,” she said, catching the brief look of astonishment that passed over Castle’s face out of the corner of her eye. “There doesn’t seem to be that passion there anymore. Whenever we’re intimate, it feels more like habit than desire.”
The Doctors Smith were nodding in understanding.
“We see this all the time,” Dr. Elaine said.
“What’s happened is that you’ve stopped seeing each other,” Dr. Hannibal added. “You’ve fallen into the routine of intimacy without the actual act of being intimate.”
Beckett almost laughed at that, but for some reason it didn’t seem funny. Beside her, Castle had dropped all hint of amusement and was sitting very still, listening to the doctors with intense concentration.
“It’s common among couples who have been together for some time, like the two of you,” Dr. Elaine was saying. “Once the newness of discovery has worn off, once you feel like you know the other person, it is so easy to stop really paying attention to them, to their feelings and reactions.”
“There are many different approaches we can take to this issue, but we find that breaking the ice between partners - and between them and the therapists - is the best starting point.” Dr. Hannibal gave them an encouraging smile.
“We have a method that has worked very well over the years,” said Dr. Elaine. “Why don’t we give it a try?”
Suddenly, Beckett began to regret her decision to play along.
“What you’ll need to do it turn to face each other - that’s it,” Dr. Hannibal directed them, Beckett reluctantly pivoting to face Castle and him doing the same toward her.
“Now just look at each other for a moment,” Dr. Elaine directed in a soothing tone. “Really take in each other. Remember all the different expressions you’ve seen on the other person’s face, all the little things that drew you together. The twinkle in his eye when he tells a joke, the way her face lights up when she smiles - get back in touch with all the memories that have faded.”
Beckett definitely remembered. In truth, she had never forgotten, but all the memories of her time with Castle were that much closer to the surface when he was staring at her so intently. His eyes were blue. The thought flashed across her mind that if someone had asked her before now, she wouldn’t have been able to tell them that. He was the person she spent the most time with, but she wouldn’t have been able to recall the color of his eyes. It was the way of the human brain, she reflected. Witnesses could never recall details of what they had seen; she couldn’t remember the color of partner’s eyes. The little things, the most important ones, they got lost in the shuffle.
Dr. Hannibal’s voice broke her inner monologue.
“The next step won’t be as easy,” he warned. “I’ll explain the reasoning behind it, but I want you to keep focusing on one another.” He paused to make sure they were doing so, gazes unwavering, before he continued. “The next step is for you to kiss.”
Thanks to their close proximity - and even closer study of one another - Beckett was able to see Castle’s eyes widen slightly, his pupils dilating in response to the instruction.
Dr. Elaine picked up where her husband had left off. “It may seem a strange request, and most couples initially feel that it is invasive, but kissing here in front of us is much less public than kissing on a park bench, or at the cinema. Try to think of it in these terms: if you went to the doctor with a hurt knee, would you simply tell the doctor your knee was hurt and then expect him to tell you straight away exactly what was wrong? No, of course not! You would want him to manipulate the knee, take X-rays or MRIs, and use other diagnostic tools to figure out what the problem was.”
“That’s all we’re doing,” Dr. Hannibal said. “We want to see how you react to one another to get a visual representation of how deep your physical intimacy issues go. Our being here, observing, also serves to heighten the experience for you; because you are aware of us being aware of you, you also become more aware of one another - something that we have already established as being your main issue.”
“What we need from you is a kiss --”
“Kissing,” her husband corrected.
“Kissing - as if it would be leading to something more - just for a minute or two.”
Throughout the explanation, Castle’s expression had not changed. He looked pensive, responsive, ready. She knew that look. It was the same one he wore every time they were neck deep in a case, every time one or the other of them was about to need the other party to go along with them on something. He had already made up his mind to keep up this particular charade until the bitter end; he was just waiting for her to make the move in that direction.
The Doctors Smith were watching them expectantly, she knew, and Castle wouldn’t move until she did. She mentally cursed him for running with the “physical intimacy” story, she cursed Ryan and Esposito for setting it up in the first place, and she cursed herself for so blithely deciding to play along. But they were here now and there was nothing for it. Stealing herself, she leaned forward. Castle mirrored her actions, and they met in a kiss.
Beckett’s body was a wash of sensation. She was intensely aware of how close Castle’s body was to hers, the tilt of his head, the feel of his lips. Her head swam with his scent and where his hand cupped her cheek her skin tingled. She did her best not to think at all.
What could have been seconds or days later, a pointed cough from one of the doctors caught Beckett’s attention and she jumped back from Castle like she had been pinched. She didn’t dare look at him. She wasn’t at all sure about the turn their “therapy” session had taken, but the doctors themselves looked inordinately pleased with their progress and shooed them off until that afternoon - which, she was advised, would begin part two of their road to better intimacy.
Beckett muttered something unintelligible in response and exited the office as slowly and calmly as she could muster, Castle at her heels. They paused at the end of the hallway, taking in the other retreat patrons lounging in the recreation area. Beckett let out a breath.
“Castle...” she began.
“We are totally good at this undercover thing,” Castle said quickly. “I think we should do undercover all the time.”
Beckett knew he was trying to dispel the odd aura brought on by their session, or at least she suspected that was what he was trying to do, though he could have genuinely believed in the undercover idea. Then again, it could have been a combination of both; you never really knew with Castle. At any rate, she was grateful, and she mustered up a smile for him.
“Only spies do 24/7 undercover, Castle.”
“Then we should be spies, Beckett.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they meandered into the rec room. “Just think about it: my brains, your brawn - we’d be unstoppable.”
She elbowed him in the stomach.
“What?” he protested. “We would be!”
For Realsies
---
“You know, Beckett, I think one bomb scare per lifetime should be enough.”
Beckett pulled the blanket the EMT had draped across her shoulders tighter around her body and sighed. She and Castle were still sitting in the back of the ambulance, blanket-draped and sooty, while paramedics and New York’s finest dealt with the aftermath of the duo’s most recent trouble and the crowd that had accumulated as a result. As the paramedic - Luis, she remembered - bandaged a cut on her forehead, she rolled her eyes in Castle’s direction.
“This wasn’t a bomb, Castle.”
“Sounded like a bomb,” he retorted, “looked like a bomb. Felt like a bomb.” He rolled his shoulder - the one he landed on, Beckett thought - and winced.
Beckett frowned. “Technically, I suppose you could call it a bomb --”
“Yes, you could.”
“-- but really it was only an explosive charge laid around the door.”
“It went boom. Things blew up. Most of the wall the door was in is now rubble.” Castle’s look was somehow both amused and serious. “It. Was. A. Bomb. Either that, or a very tiny supernova.”
Grace, the paramedic working on Castle, gave a snort of laughter that she quickly turned into a cough. Having finished with Castle’s injuries, she then excused herself and hurried off, shoulders shaking with silent amusement. Luis, shaking his head at his giggly partner’s antics, moved to wrapping Beckett’s wrist, sprained during the blast. As she watched Grace leave, Beckett spared a moment to contemplate what it said about her life that she knew most of the area EMTs by name. Not much worth repeating, she thought glumly, though Castle would no doubt find a way to twist it into a bestseller. Castle’s voice pulled her from her thoughts just as Luis completed his bandaging job.
“Actually, this would be at least your third bomb.”
“Explosion,” Beckett correctly automatically.
“Ah, but I disarmed one, so it was a mere bomb, not an explosion,” Castle replied with a smug grin.
“And the other one?”
She was surprised when the smile slid off his face and his expression grew serious. He turned to stare out toward the crowd before he answered.
“Dunn.”
The chill that came over her had little to do with the night air. She swallowed the residual fear and anger that name still produced and took a deep breath. She could just make out the moon between two buildings in the distance. Though the skies were clear at the moment, there would be rain later; she could smell it in the air. She hoped the clean-up crews would be able to get done before then.
Beside her, Castle rolled his shoulder again, hissing a little at the movement, and she looked over in concern. He had taken a hard hit, angling himself so that he managed to somehow hit the ground first and cover her from the blast. She could still feel the weight of him as he lay over her, debris raining down on his back, the building on fire behind him. In thinking back on it - the click of the wire being tripped as she opened the door - she was surprised (and a bit troubled) that he had reacted before she did. In truth, the thought made her feel guilty. She was the police officer, she was the one who was supposed to do the protecting. She hadn’t, and now Castle was hurt.
Untangling her arm from the blanket, she placed a gentle hand on his back.
“You okay?”
He nodded and gave her a smile. “Just a little sore. Guess I’ll have to cancel those ballroom dancing lessons I got for Alexis’ birthday. Mind you, I didn’t think I’d do all that well at them anyway - and there’s a poker match scheduled for that night - so I won’t be too devastated not to go.” His face lit up as he got an idea. “Actually, this could be a blessing in disguise. I’ll secretly arrange for Ashley to take my place - it’s perfect. Alexis will get two birthday surprises instead of one.” He beamed at Beckett. “I’m the best dad ever.”
Beckett knew that Castle kept talking after his proclamation but for once, she really wasn’t listening. Something in what he had said, in what had happened, in the cut across his cheek or the way his eyes shined as he talked about Alexis had done something to her. Beckett stared at him as he chattered on in that way of his, not waiting for any response or encouragement, and before she knew what she was doing, she had grabbed him around the neck with her good hand and pulled him into a kiss.
His lips were still trying to form words for the first second or so, but then he returned the kiss with intent, one hand drifting up to gently cup the back of her head. When Beckett finally broke away to take a breath, Castle’s expression was slightly dazed and he looked at her in bemusement. She smiled.
“Shut up, Castle.”
Then she pulled him back in for another kiss.
Across the lot, near the cordon lines and leaning against the front of their patrol car, Esposito and Ryan watched with approval as events unfolded in the back of the ambulance. Both had their phones out and were nonchalantly snapping pictures of the make-out session their other two partners had just initiated. Ryan admired one snapshot in particular, angling his phone so that Esposito could see.
“Oh, that’s a good one,” Esposito agreed.
“Making it my background,” Ryan advised, tapping at his phone screen.
“Already anonymously posted this one on the department webpage,” Esposito replied, earning a snicker from his partner. Without glancing up from his phone, he held up a fist. “Good job on the couple’s retreat, bro.”
Ryan tapped fists with him, grinning smugly. “Good job, bro.”
“They’ll thank us in twenty years,” Esposito said.
“Maybe they’ll name the kids after us.”
Keep an eye out for an epilogue of sorts. MWAHAHAHA! *moustache twirl*