At her seventh time being a bridesmaid, she thinks that it’s time to throw in the proverbial towel and give up. Her Aunt chastises her, says there’s no such thing as “once a bridesmaid, always a bridesmaid” but she can’t seem to think anything to the former. It’s not like she really believed in fate and true love and finding destiny with one person anyone. All of that stuff was dumb.
She sits in the corner of her room, watching Jenny - one of her sorority sisters - and her new husband, Kevin (who just so happened to be her co-worker) dance. It’s sickening, really, how they look at each other. But it’s not as sickening as the jealousy that rots her to the core.
No matter how much Kate Beckett tries to tell herself that she’s all right and that the mere fact that she will be perpetually single forever doesn’t bother her, everyone - including herself - sees right through that.
"Lovely wedding," she hears a scoff to her side and she jumps, hands reaching for her gun that’s not there. Not that she wouldn’t have tried if it was needed. "Hey, hey, no need to shoot me down, officer."
"That’s Detective to you," she spits at the stranger, a hell fire burning within her. She stands then, ignoring the wooziness provided from the alcohol she’d poured down her throat. "I don’t want company, buddy."
Did she just call him buddy?
"I hate weddings," he ignores her, sighing a little. As she sobers, she recognizes who it is and her eyes nearly roll out of her head. "Detective Castle," she forces a smile. "Didn’t think I’d see you here.”
"Well, you know." He’s smirking. "I got the invitation in the mail and thought that I owed Ryan at least that."
She vaguely knows about Ryan’s old partner. When Ryan got bumped to homicide, Castle was stuck in Narcotics. Not that it seemed like he minded much. Especially because, just two years later, he’d been promoted to the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
"And for the record, it’s Agent, now." He grins.
So, maybe they have a past, and maybe she hates his guts.
The walk of shame the next morning is anything but.
“If I could go back in time, I would make sure you never show him that movie,” Beckett growls as she tugs on her boots, the leather of her bodysuit creaking as she leans down.
“So you believe in time travel but superheroes are a stretch?” Castle comments dryly as he pulls the hood over his eyes.
“It’s not the superheroes, it’s this get-up. We couldn’t just half-ass it? You had to get movie quality costumes that are impossible to get in and out of?”
He looks at her like she’s grown a second head. “Hi, you’ve met me, right? What makes you think that I wouldn’t get authentic, custom costumes?”
She sighs, grumbling unintelligibly as she ties the boots’ laces, standing for inspection once she’s done. “I look okay?”
“As always, you look amazing,” he answers, lowering his voice seductively.
She rolls her eyes. “Keep it in your suit, Cap. It’s never going to happen in these outifits, anyway. Captain America and Black Widow are friends and allies, not romantically attracted to each other.”
He sighs, his shoulder slumping as he exhales. “How do I forget that I’m married to a shipper?”
Before she can reply, their son’s voice rings out from the living room. “AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!”
Castle offers his arm. “Let’s go Tasha, Tony’s calling.”
Maybe not quite what was asked for but I still hope it’s fun. Thanks for this, anon!!
She feels a hand wrap around her forearm and her body freezes, preparing for attack mode. But as she’s pulled in another direction, she catches a glimpse of the serene blue eyes and somehow trusts him. She ignores it.
"Oh," his voice is more velvety than she initially thought. "You’re not Kyra, I apologize."
Kate feels her cheeks redden and her eyes fall to his hand as he gracelessly drops her arm as though it had just caught on fire. Her eyes remain on the floor before she lifts her head up and shakes it once. “No,” she says gently. “I’m not.”
Already, he’s enthralled with the woman in front of him. She’s a mystery, but as are most of the people who inhabit. Seeing only the hazel-green of her eyes between the black-red of her mask, he’s telling a tale in his mind already. There’s sorrow buried in the depths of her hues, sorrow he knows he could not begin to understand.
Instead, he straightens and focuses on her mouth, pinky puffy perfection. “I apologize, Miss…”
"Ah," there’s a wicked smile that graces her lips. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"
Before he can answer, she turns and disappears into the crowd. He spends the rest of the night waiting for a glance of her, but it never comes.
link for part 1
and here’s part 2:
She’s not supposed to be in his hospital bed. But after she had returned to his room from speaking with her new captain in the hallway, he had read the distress in her eyes and patted the space beside him. She’d been unable to resist.
She’s always unable to resist crawling in with him, touching him, practically draping herself at his side due to his insistence. They’re driving the hospital staff crazy.
Captain Gates already doesn’t like her and her insistence to remain off duty for at least a month didn’t help matters, but it’s not something she’s willing to compromise on regardless of how much her job means to her. She’s remained at his side this long, she isn’t leaving anytime soon.
"The Hamptons will be good," he murmurs and Kate turns her head, meeting the bright blue pair of eyes watching her. For someone who was shot only 7 days ago, he’s never seemed happier. Since awakening a few nights ago, Castle’s been making steady progress. He was taken off the vent that same evening, was talking to her without much trouble by the morning, and now they’re leaving for his home in the Hamptons early tomorrow.
"I’ll finally see you in a swimsuit," he sighs, wistful and smiling, and she huffs, refrains from telling him he how close he was to the same sight only a year ago. She doesn’t want to think about all the chances they missed out on or any mistakes they made before this.
She’s already assured him that she has everything she wants right here.
"You love me?" The first words out of his mouth when he woke, raspy and incredulous, and she had blushed, nodding. She thinks he’s been one of the happiest gunshot victim ever since.
"I look forward to seeing you half naked too," she smirks, but his reaction isn’t what she expects, not smug and amused like she’d hoped. He looks nervous when he answers, uncertain and even somewhat embarrassed, too tired to hide it.
"Incision scars and all?" he jokes, but it’s hollow, forced, and she has to sit up from her comfortable position beside him, lean over to cup the side of his face in one of her hands.
"I can assure you, Castle, I’ll enjoy every inch of you," she tells him, watching his eyes widen at the words before melting into an enticing pool of dark blue.
She can’t wait until he recovers for so many reasons.
"Don’t talk like that, Beckett. Not when I can’t do anything about it," he chastises, but she knows he’s more than pleased with the response.
"We can still make out," she teases, because they’ve done quite a bit of that while he’s been stuck in this hospital bed.
"Thank god," he mutters around a low chuckle as she smears a kiss to his lips before easing back against his side.
"The Hamptons will be good," she echoes, gently knocking her head into his, grinning at the returning kiss he plants to her temple.
She hasn’t told him about Smith, about her decision to turn her back on her mother’s case. She’s handed it over to Ryan and Esposito and placed the rest of her focus on Castle, on working with his mother and Alexis to hire the best security for his recovery in the Hamptons, on the flutter in her chest every time he murmurs how he loves her before he drifts to sleep.
She’ll tell him when he’s stronger, when his heart can beat without pain and his breath can flow steady and unhitched from his lips. For now…
"Rick," she murmurs when she feels his body starting to go limp beside hers, drifting towards well-needed sleep.
"Hmm?" he yawns, nuzzling against her shoulder.
She steals one of his hands, twines their fingers in his lap.
"I love every inch of you."
"Castle?" Kate whispers. "Are you still awake?"
"Yeah," he mumbles.
Kate turns over in his embrace to face him. “I can’t stop thinking about the pregnancy test I took this morning.”
"What about it?"
"From the moment I realized I was late to the moment I used the test, I was hoping it would come back negative. I’m working towards the promotion now and you’re going to be doing more book tours soon. We’re not a normal, home at 6:00 every night kind of family."
"Book tours can be rearranged, and getting the promotion will give you a little more rigidity in your schedule. I mean, isn’t that one of the reasons you’re going for it?"
"It’s the main reason I’m going for it," she reassures him. "But I have to be extra diligent at work right now and you’re basically always on a deadline and so we both have a lot of obligations outside of each other that we have to fulfill and having a baby right now would turn our lives upside down and everything would just be so crazy so all I could think about was how much I didn’t want to be pregnant," she takes in a deep breath, having depleted the oxygen in her lungs with her rambling sentence.
"Kate," he caresses her cheek, "having a baby will turn our lives upside down no matter when we have one."
"I know," she sighs and reaches up to put her hand over his, "that’s why I’ve been thinking about it all day. Rick, as soon as I saw the negative result I was disappointed. I thought it was the result I wanted until it was the result I got."
"What are you saying, Kate?"
"I want us to get pregnant."
"Yes. I want to have a baby with you and I don’t want to wait any longer. What about you?"
"Nothing would make me happier," he smiles.
She smiles back at him. “It’s settled then. As of right now I’m going off the pill.”
Castle presses his smile to hers. “I love you,” he murmurs against her.
"I love you too," she pulls back just enough to look at him. "You know, I’m glad we’re going to start having kids now, seeing as how we’re going to have three of them," she grins and he laughs. "In fact, we should probably get in a practice round right now."
"Mrs. Castle, are you trying to seduce me?"
"Yes. Is it working?"
He slips his hand out from under hers and flips them over. “It most definitely is.”
"Good," she replies with another smile as she pulls him down to her.
GET. OVER. IT!
A Castle/Beckett ficlet
Note: To reblog just the image, reblog it from here, please and thanks. (Not my photo.)
"You’re sure you don’t want me to carry you?"
"No, Mama, I walk."
It was the same response she’d gotten the other five times she’d asked. Her daughter was nothing if not headstrong, determined to explore every inch of the dock unaided. A true Beckett, according to everyone who met her (although from Castle’s stories of stubborn little Alexis, she wasn’t sure she could be blamed for everything).
"Okay, no being carried. Will you hold my hand?"
"No?" She glanced up quickly, meeting her husband’s amused eyes. He was letting her handle this one, thoughtful as he was. Mostly he was enjoying watching her attempt to negotiate with their diminutive dictator.
"Why not?" she tried, pushing a windswept piece of hair out of her mouth. Nothing said authoritative like spitting one’s own hair out of their mouth mid-sentence. "You like holding my hand, silly."
Okay, the put-upon sigh was all her, she’d give everyone that, but the dramatic flop against the railing? Martha Rodgers, through and through.
“Easy, miss dramatic,” she warned, shifting her cup to her other hand, freeing up the one closest to her daughter. Walking on the dock was one thing, dangling partially over the water was another; she wasn’t taking any chances. “Nobody wants to go swimming in nasty boat water. Especially not mommy if you fall in.”
Her daughter giggled, peering down at the murky, oil-slicked water. Of course she didn’t care about the possibility of tumbling into the water; she was fearless.
“You see fishies?” Casually leaning over to see for herself was just a cover to curl her fingers around her daughter’s collar. Just in case.
“Did you say hi?”
She heard the chuckles from several other prospective lunch-goers and smiled, dipping her head to brush kisses over the baby’s cheek. Her little one giggled, gripping the metal railing tightly.
“Do the fishies say hi back, monkey?”
“Daddy! It’s buzzing!”
That was their cue. They’d been walking while they waited to be seated, but if her son’s eager words were any indication, the walk was over. Good, she was starving, and she had no doubt everyone else had to be, too. They’d been up early to play on the beach.
“That is us, buddy. Kate, we’re up.” Castle called, tickling their son’s neck. The boy squealed, squirming away from his father’s fingers. Both of their babies were so happy and sweet, vibrant in their own way. Two distinct personalities, all stubborn comparisons aside. It warmed her to see new facets of those personalities emerge each day.
Nodding, she turned back to her daughter. “Come on, monkey, it’s time for lunch. Say see you later to the fishies.”
“No?” she gasped. “Don’t you want to go eat chicken fingers and macaroni and cheese? That’s your favorite.” And really the only thing they could get her to eat without a major meltdown, so for the sake of keeping the peace during their last lunch while on vacation (LLWOV – according to Castle), no one would be arguing with the little girl.
“No. I gon’ eat da fishies!”
If she hadn’t been staring at her daughter, she never would’ve guessed the deep belly laugh could even come from the tiny thing in front of her. Oh her crazy little one.
Kate paused, taking a moment to drain the last of the club soda her husband had pressed into her hand after putting their names on the list to be seated. She didn’t want to spill it when she leaned over and scooped her still-cackling daughter off her feet.
“You, Miss Castle, are the craziest little girl I know. I thought the fishies were your friends?”
“Ya!” The giggles still hadn’t ceased, which made it easier to make their way down the dock without protest.
“But you’re going to eat them?”
“Ya! Num, num, num!”
“Num, num, num, what?” Castle looked confused as they joined the boys.
“S’fishie food!” Another round of cackles ensued from that.
“Your fishie friends are yummy food?” She laughed softly, handing the squirming girl to her father and reaching for her son. “Okay, crazy monkey, tell Daddy all about it while the nice people show us where to sit.”
She might be a headstrong Beckett, but that imagination (and the odd sense of humor to go along with it) was all Castle.
Today is a happy day.
The NYPD’s 12th Precinct is getting three new Detectives. Bright, hopeful lives ahead, dedicated to duty and service. One goes to robbery, the other two to sex crimes. Still, the entire precinct turns up to the promotion ceremony, dressed in their finest.
Tucking a stray lock of hair back into her bun, Beckett makes certain her pins are in place, adjusts her hat one more time and gives herself one last check in the floor-length mirror. Satisfied that everything is ship-shape, she calls teasingly for her husband, rolling her eyes at the sound of something crashing in the office.
Peeking out from behind the door, she finds him waiting, his suit and tie in place.
"Well, don’t you clean up nice?" she grins.
He does not grin back. Nor does he comment on Beckett-in-Uniform. He doesn’t maul her or ask her to pop a button. He doesn’t even give her the elevator eyes, and he does that whether she’s wearing her little black happy-birthday-Castle dress or her grossest sweats.
Instead, Castle’s face freezes, locked in some hellish emotion she cannot comprehend. His eyes turn damp, and at last something moves on him as his mouth opens, only to close, whatever he’s thinking gone unsaid.
With two giant strides he crosses the distance between them, pulling her hat off and swiftly letting her hair down with one practiced, painless yank of her hair tie. Doesn’t kiss her, he just pulls her to his chest, clutching her like a thing adored, murmuring her name over and over again.
She’s not sure what this is all about. He was fine fifteen minutes ago, joking about hazing the new Detectives - something she assured him would not be happening - and fussing over which tie to wear. True, she half-expected him to jump her. She even budgeted an extra half hour for it. But not like this.
"I love you, Kate." His voice is filled with pain, desperation edging out all sense.
And suddenly, she knows exactly what this is all about.
Carding her fingers through his hair and leaning into his frantic embrace, she murmurs that it’s okay. That she’s fine; that they’re both fine; that it’s in the past. But nothing seems to work to bring him from the mental loop he’s stuck in, reliving the event over and over again. He doesn’t seem to hear her at all, just holds her and strokes her face and rambles how much he loves her, doesn’t want her to die.
"It’s just a uniform, Castle. There’s nothing magical about these clothes," she states firmly. He pulls back at last, still holding her by her shoulders and checking over her, as if he doesn’t quite believe that history isn’t to repeat itself.
She remembers the day when her chest still pulled every time she moved, and Esposito handed her a sniper’s rifle, showed her that it had no power.
Unbuttoning her top, she grabs her husband and partner’s hand, guiding his tremulous fingertips to the almost-faded punctuation over her heart, a reminder of a beautiful spring mourning, four years earlier, almost to the day. He circles the mark, still fascinated by it and her allowance of his touch, these three years since she showed up on his doorstep looking like a drowned rat and showed him just how alive she still was, how much of that life she still had left, how she was going to spend it with him.
"It’s alright," Kate repeats, standing on her toes to kiss the downturned corner of his mouth. "I love you, too."
Yeah I cried! I want to see this!!!!!
Another FOUR people prompted this one. Sorry about before. Epic fail.
Hot Guy got on to her bus every morning from the stop outside of the Eagle Fitness Gym, because of course he did. Of course Hot Guy worked out every morning. You didn’t look like Hot Guy looked unless you worked out every morning.
And every morning, Felicity watched him take a seat towards the back of the bus, got the slightest hint of his scent as he walked by - something tangy (probably like, ocean scented body-wash or something, because yeah) and light cologne - and okay, it was probably a little creepy that she knew what he smelled like, but she couldn’t help it, she had needs.
One day, Felicity kept telling herself - one day, she’d make a move.
And every day went by, and she didn’t.
The bus pulled in to the Eagle Fitness Gym bus stop on Monday morning, and Felicity perked up, stealthily keeping an eye on the front. But she was distracted when she saw a very pregnant woman get on with several grocery bags, and she immediately got up and approached her, Hot Guy momentarily forgotten.
"Hey, here, let me help you with that," she said.
The woman looked surprised. “Oh my God, would you mind? Thank you so much!” And Felicity took her bags and helped her settle in the spot she’d previously been sitting in. She caught the slightest whiff of familiar cologne, but was busy tying a bag with oranges closed so they wouldn’t fall out and roll away. When she was done, she moved towards the back exit of the bus where there was enough room to stand. The bus had filled up, and she was getting off in a few stops anyway.
Sighing, she shot a quick glance towards the back where she knew Hot Guy usually sat, only he wasn’t there. She frowned. Maybe he hadn’t come today? But she’d thought -
The bus pulled out, only to screech to halt. The driver had slammed the breaks, though apparently too late, because they hit something a moment later. Felicity cried out in surprise, trying to grab at anything to stay upright, and missed, and then - oh crap - she completely lost her balance, falling backwards, into -
A pair of strong arms caught her as she plopped down into someone’s lap.
And as though that wasn’t mortifying enough, she turned around and came face to face with -
"I mean, um -"
A slow smile spread across his face, and Felicity got her first up-close look at the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.
"Oliver Queen, actually. I only let my closest friends call me Hot Guy."
Felicity dropped her face in her hands. “Oh my gooood,” she groaned.
She felt more than heard him laugh.
"And who do I have the pleasure of being a chair for this morning? Because, to be honest, I’ve been calling you Cute Glasses Girl in my head all of this time, and it would be really nice to finally put a name to the face."
Felicity froze before slowly lifting her head. “Really?” she asked him.
Hot G- Oliver, nodded. Then he actually looked sheepish as he added, “I’ve - um, been meaning to talk to you for a while now, but I just never…” He shrugged, looking a little helpless.
"Oh," she exclaimed softly, blinking. "Oh." She got caught up in the sincerity in his eyes, and with a sudden shift, became incredibly aware of his very large hands on her waist, of their warmth, of his still damp hair, and ocean(?) scented body-wash. Of her heart-rate picking up and her stomach swooping.
Oliver swallowed, she was close enough to see his throat work, and then he was pulling his eyes way from hers, glancing up towards the front of the bus.
"It, uh - looks like the bus might be stuck here for a while," he said.
Slowly, Felicity became aware of her surroundings again, and heard the bus driver shouting at someone in the street. She looked out the window to see steam billowing past.
Oliver cleared his throat. “Do you, uh - there’s a coffee shop nearby. Do you like coffee? We could get coffee…?”
It took her a moment to realize he still didn’t know her name.
"Felicity. My name’s Felicity."
Oliver smiled. “Would you like to get coffee with me, Felicity?”
She bit her lip, trying to hold back her grin and ultimately failing. Felicity nodded and stood, holding out her hand to pull Oliver up.
"I’d love to."
"I really think she likes you more," Oliver says, holding the baby up over his head towards Felicity.
Felicity takes a step back, shaking her head emphatically. “Oh, no, definitely you, I’ve seen the way she lights up when you walk into the room. She’s gunning to be president of your fan club…at eight months old.”
"Come on, Felicity, take her," he pleads, wrinkling his nose. "You’re better at stuff like this."