Always @beckettwave - Tumblr Blog

I’m not sure if you still take prompts but tbh, I don’t even care, can you write anything you want? Doesn’t have to be long! Just craving some good caskett 😭

A/N: I was either reading a book or watching a tv show, I can't recall, but the simple words of "I'll leave early" got stuck in my brain and shot this idea into my head. Set during 4x19, ‘47 Seconds’, initially before any confessions unknowingly occur on the other side of an interrogation room window.

-

The knock on the door startles him, has him jerking out of his chair and bumping his hip on the edge of the desk.

Castle curses under his breath, winces, but carries on into the living room, to the front door.

It’s late, after midnight, and he hasn’t been able to calm his mind. All he can think about is the victims of the bombing, their loss of life, of opportunity, and how it has selfishly caused him to reflect on those areas of his own life. On Kate.

He’s going to tell her tomorrow. He has to. What if - god forbid - the world were to end for him the way it did for all of those people today, and it would do so without Kate Beckett knowing he loved her? What if the time they had was so much shorter than they could imagine? What if-

Castle feels the color drain from his face, all of the bravado leaving him, as he swings the door open.

“Beckett,” he greets softly, self-consciously smoothing down the tortured strands of hair that have flown this way and that from the restless push of his fingers.

She’s in his hallway with her hair falling in those gentle waves around her shoulders, her face devoid of makeup and an NYPD sweatshirt engulfing her slim frame. Kate offers him a weak twitch of her mouth.

“Hey, Castle.” Her voice is soft but gruff, as if it hasn’t been used in hours. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no,” he assures her, stepping back and gesturing for her to come in. Her eyes flicker around the darkened space, as if ensuring his daughter isn’t at the counter, or his mother on the couch. “I was up, trying to write, but after today… I just couldn’t get out of my head.”

The door clicks quietly behind them and he steps up to her side, catches the haunted glimpse of her eyes gravitating back to him. The warm glow of his office beckons them forward, offering privacy and familiarity. She's never said as much, but he thinks she favors his office, the comforting walls of books and the sofa she often curls up on when she stays late to theorize over cases or plot points for his novels.

“Yeah.” She nods, twisting her fingers together in front of her as she follows him inside. He eases the office door closed. Just in case. The last thing he needs is Alexis's scrutinizing gaze peering in. His daughter means well, he knows, but on the topic of Kate, he hopes to maintain some distance. “I know the feeling.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” he tries, sensing there is more to her visit than she is letting on.

“No,” she admits. “I just - it’s this case. I kept seeing their faces, the crime scene, the senselessness of it. I keep thinking of the victims’ loved ones, what it’s going to do to them.”

Castle tilts his head, understanding but still curious. Her eyes fall to her feet, the worn toes of her sneakers peeking out from her jeans.

“It’s selfish, but it - it made me think of what my shooting did to the people I care about, that I love.” She purses her lips and exhales a breath that quivers. “I don’t think I ever apologized to you. Well, beyond the first time I saw you again after your book signing in the fall,” she murmurs, tentatively lifting her gaze to meet his. “For what I put you through.”

“Kate,” he huffs, but she catches the hand he tries to use to wave her off. He stares down at the slim curl of her fingers around his, the kiss of her thumb to the heart of his palm. “You didn’t put me through anything, you were shot. Besides, I’m one of the lucky ones. You’re here.”

“You know what I mean.” Her eyes harden, a fierce hazel, emboldened. “The summer, and… this. The missed opportunities and lost time. The waiting.”

His brow hitches, surprise rippling through his senses. Sure, they’ve talked around his unspoken vow to wait for her, their conversations always edging on everything shy of committing to one another without saying any actual truths. He’s not used to blatant honesty between them.

His hand relaxes within the grasp of hers, their loosely knotted fingers dangling in the space between them.

“I just - I know it’s not necessarily what you signed up for-”

“Beckett, it’s exactly what I signed up for,” he chuckles, tugging gently on their hands and drawing her a step closer. She has to lift her eyes to him without her heels, her vulnerability alive and shimmering in her gaze just a few inches below. “From the first day we met, I signed up for you.”

“We were different then,” she huffs, shaking her head, but he squeezes her hand.

“Yeah, but maybe we’ve been changing for the better.” He shrugs, watching a sliver of hope slice through her pupils. “Maybe the last four years were necessary, to prove we were capable of growing together. Seems worth waiting for to me.”

Kate’s lips quirk, white teeth appearing to contain the smile.

“You always know how to say something reassuring,” she sighs, but her eyes are dancing with light for him.

“Plus, you’re only the hottest detective in existence, so I’d be stupid to give up so easily-”

She smacks him with her free hand, her laughter quiet and mingling with his. He catches the other hand at his chest, coats her knuckles with his palm, and feels hers come to a cool rest over his heart. Kate’s laugh gentles into a sigh, her body swaying towards his, and then she’s releasing the hand that was holding his. Her arm snakes around his waist instead, her embrace tentative.

Rick's arms automatically wind around her, the movement as natural as breathing. He feels the sink of her body into his, the exhale of tension against his collarbone as she tucks her forehead against his neck.

“I love you, Kate,” he whispers, feeling the terror and exhilaration commingling within his chest as the words escape. He expects her to tense, to draw away, but she remains against him. Still, unspeaking, and possibly not breathing, but in his arms with her fingers curled into the t-shirt at his back. “I don’t need you to be ready to say it back, but I don’t want you to forget, to doubt. I’m here.”

Her arm tightens around him, her fingers curling at his chest, as if she could hold fast to the heart beneath her hand. They remain like that for a long moment and he takes the time to appreciate the shape of her in his arms, the scent of her shampoo in his nose, and her nuzzled cheek against his clavicle.

"I don't want you to doubt either," she murmurs, the heat of her breath rushing over the flesh of his throat.

Kate gingerly lifts her head, dark lashes rising and eyes finding his. Her hand splays at the small of back, her fingertips brushing his spine. He swallows hard, begging his heart to steady before she feels the gallop of it between their bodies.

"You're not alone in this, Rick." A tender smile graces her lips, encouraging yet shy. Her eyes fall to his mouth, linger for a moment too long before fluttering back to his gaze. "And I don't think the wait is for much longer."

"N-no?" He clears his throat, watches her smile grow, and he can't help it. He touches a hand to her jaw, unfurling fingers along her cheek, and watches in amazement as she leans into the cup of his palm.

"No," she confirms, covering the back of his hand with one of hers, holding it there as she turns her head and brushes a kiss to his palm that sends a jolt of electricity up his arm.

"Kate," he sighs, giving into the compromise of pressing his forehead to hers.

"Sorry," she mumbles, abandoning his hand to dust her fingers to his chin. He feels the tips of her fingers trail along his jaw, his eyes fluttering closed as her thumb skims his cheek. "I think I should go."

"It's late," he argues, eyes flickering open to find hers watching closely, bottom lip pinned beneath her teeth again. "Just stay. The guest room-"

"Castle, Alexis and your mom-"

"Something tells me Alexis won't even notice since she leaves for classes at the crack of dawn and my mother won't be up until the clock is flashing double digits."

She's considering it, he can tell.

"Stay," he murmurs, forcing himself to draw back and stealing the hand from his face.

"Castle," she huffs when he begins to drag her towards his bedroom.

"Here," he tells her, letting her go to dig through his dresser, retrieving a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. "These should be comfortable, but you're welcome to raid my closet and drawers for other options if-"

She swipes the clothes from him and glowers as she brushes past, heading for his bathroom.

He nervously rearranges his pillows while he waits for her, trying not to pay attention to the sound of running water or the click of the doorknob.

She still looks uncertain when she drops her clothes in the chair beside his bed, her sweater landing on top of his robe, making him stupidly delighted.

"Come on," he says, climbing onto his side of the bed and cutting the lamp lights. He feels the darkness will seal the deal, allow her the courage to crawl under the covers to innocently lie beside him.

He doesn't know when they decided on his room instead of the guest room, but she makes no move to leave now.

He looks anywhere but at her while he slides his legs beneath the comforter, the sheets, and settles onto his back. But his body, his senses, are attuned to her, and he can hear the quiet rustling of her doing the same. When he risks a glance, he can make out the dark mass of her body curled beneath the blankets a few inches away.

"I'll leave early," she breathes into the shadows between them, as if making a promise to them both.

"Kate."

A moment of silence passes and then the mattress is shifting, her body warm and lithe and nestling beside him. He eases his arm around her, feels the welcome weight of her head on his shoulder, the contented sigh of her breath against his neck.

"I'll leave early," she repeats, adamant but soft.

"Go to sleep, Kate," he whispers, resting his cheek against her hair and feeling the restlessness of her quieting.

Her arms curl between them, her cold hands against his ribs, her knees against his thighs. He drifts to sleep savoring the points of contact.

-

When he wakes, Kate is gone. Later, he finds that the shirt he lent her the night before is as well.

-

The next night, when he receives a late knock on his door, he's aware of who will be on the other side and he opens it with anger roiling through his insides.

"You stormed out before I had the chance to explain," she begins immediately, coming into his loft as if she were a storm herself. "I know why you're upset with me, but-"

"Kate, I really think you've said enough today," he cuts her off, keeping his voice low.

It's late, hours since he knows her shift ended. He knows she planned this purposely to avoid his family, to corner him while he was alone.

"What I said to Bobby-"

"Yeah, I already heard it once. I'll pass on a second time," he mutters, locking his front door and leaving her in the entryway.

"Rick." But she follows, of course, chasing him with soft steps to the sanctuary of his office. "It was an interrogation tactic. You're just assuming I was being honest with a suspect," she hisses, easing the office door shut behind her.

Castle crosses his arms and leans back against his desk.

"Fine," he concedes, bitterly. He already knows the answer to his next question, he feels it in his gut, his bones. The horrible truth he's always known. "Do you remember every second of that day? Of being shot?"

Her throat ripples with a swallow, but she exhales steadily, steels herself before she says a word.

"Yes," she confesses, holding his gaze. "I've always remembered."

"Every. Second," he clarifies. Not a question.

Her lips part, the bottom one threatening to quiver ever so slightly. She squares her jaw to stop it.

"Every second," she confirms, her fingers in fists at her sides. "I remember you tackling me, trying to stop the blood, to - to save me."

He casts his eyes away from her, not wanting to remember it, not wanting to recall the feeling of hot blood on his hands, the wide surprise of her eyes, the panicked sound of her gasping for breath beneath him.

"I remember you telling me you love me," she whispers, the words soft but measured. "That was the last thing."

"All this time," he manages, blinking away the horror of those images. "You lied."

"I know," she whispers, exhaling a shaking breath into the silence between them. "I didn't - I didn't know how to face it then. How to be - how to be what I wanted to be for myself, for you. I just... god, Castle. I panicked and if I hadn't been in therapy for the last few months, I'd probably still be lying to you."

He spares a look at her then, the crescents of purple beneath her eyes, the glimmer of moisture making them sparkle in the darkness of the room.

"When I woke up in that hospital room, I didn't feel like a person anymore. The only purpose I've ever felt I had was solving my mother's murder and after the shooting, I didn't think I could survive making room for anything else," she attempts to explain, but he can hear the hitch threatening her throat, the choked sound of her trying not to cry. "I didn't feel worth much else."

Argument bubbles unbidden on his tongue at that, but she speaks first.

"I - I wanted you," she declares, meeting his eyes with a desperation he's never seen in hers. Not for him. "But I didn't feel like I could give what you deserve. I needed to be better first, to heal, to make the room. To acknowledge how important you are to me."

The unshed tears spill over, creating rivulets down her cheeks.

"I love you," she says, but her voice has changed, strengthening with resolve. "I love you, but I wasn't going to screw it up, so I was trying to put in the work. To be more."

Castle doesn't stop her when she takes a step toward him, another.

"I'm sorry." She doesn't touch him, but stands before him, palms up and bare, as if begging. "I should have gone about it all differently, but I - god, I never wanted to hurt you, Rick."

Without thinking, he touches the tear stains on her cheeks, brushing them away with his thumb.

"You don't have to forgive me tonight," she adds softly, staring up at him with tired eyes. "You can stay angry for a while. Just don't - don't give up on me yet."

Shit, she was breaking his heart, siphoning all his resolve.

His fingers slide into her hair, cradling the back of her skull.

"I would never." Her eyes flutter in what looks like relief. "I get it, I do. I just..."

"Hate it," she mumbles, the corner of her mouth twitching ever so slightly.

He shrugs. "I wish we could have done it a little differently, yeah. But I'm not going to hold it against you, Kate, I just need time to process it all."

She nods, her lips pursing resolutely. "Of course."

Her head turns toward the door, but he snags her fingers. She looks to him in askance.

"Will you stay?"

She hesitates. "What about time and space?"

"I didn't say anything about space."

She is not nearly as anxious to crawl into bed with him this time, her body settling beside him without preamble and her arms twining around his torso.

"We're okay, Kate," he promises her, burying the words in her hair as her nose touches his throat and one of her ankles hooks around his.

He rubs her back, tracing the line of her spine through another one of his t-shirts. Eventually, the taut arrangement of bones begins to relax beneath his ministrations and her breathing evens out, her body slack in his arms.

He tries to sleep, but despite all she said, all that has happened over the course of the last few hours, he can't tear his thoughts away from the fact that she loves him. And she said it out loud.

-

Most of the following nights are spent with her appearing on his doorstep or his on hers, the hour often late, but her smile is always worth it. The first time she opened her door to him, after a night of being dressed up for a stint with Colin Hunt - he hated that guy - she was beaming.

"I thought you'd be at home brooding," she'd chuckled, locking the door behind him, pleasing him with her intent to keep him there. "I was about to come to you."

"No, I couldn't wait that long," he admitted, hanging his coat on one of the empty hooks. "I was kinda hoping you'd still be in that dress."

Kate had huffed a laugh, already dressed down in one of the t-shirts she had stolen from him. He had yet to call her out on it because he didn't want to give her a reason to stop.

"Don't worry, Castle," she teased, lifting her hand to his cheek. "I'll save it for another time."

His brow arced at that. "That statement is heavy with implication."

"It was intended to be," she grinned, sauntering to her bedroom.

He had to bring up the case to keep himself occupied after that, but the way she looked at him every time he insulted Mr. Scotland Yard almost made it worse.

Oh yeah, Kate Beckett definitely wanted him. But until she made the next move, he would wait. He wasn't taking any risk of moving too fast when it came to her. Not when he knew this time would be for keeps.

-

The evening they solve the zombie case, she vows to appear at his loft, teasing him that he'll never get that makeup off without her help. He has a laser tag game planned with Alexis that turns into the icing on the cake of his day, with his daughter announcing she will be attending Columbia for college.

Most of his makeup has been scrubbed off, the costume gone, when Kate knocks on the front door.

Alexis glances up from washing the dishes, her brow furrowed. "Were we expecting anyone this late?"

"Just Kate." He tries for nonchalance, but Alexis eyes him with both intrigue and wariness as he starts for the door.

When Castle opens it, she's on the other side as promised. She's changed from her leather jacket and jeans to a soft sweater and yoga pants, looking warm and inviting at his doorstep.

"Oh look, you did a pretty good job," she chuckles, reaching for his nearly cleansed cheek, stroking the bone there.

"I don't know if you'll have better luck," he admits. "Prosthetics and stage makeup leave quite the mark."

"Well," she grins, tapping the bag on her arm. "I brought an extra strength cleanser, so we'll give it a shot."

The water from the kitchen sink is still running, catching her attention. Alexis's presence is likely visible from the doorway, the clinking of dishes going into the dishwasher pointedly loud. He feels nervous but hopeful as he watches Kate determine what to do next.

She lowers her hand from his cheek and bites her bottom lip. "Am I too early?"

"No, not at all." He extends his hand for hers and she slips her fingers into the cove of his, allowing him to guide her inside.

-

"I think she hates me a little less," Kate murmurs, her eyes following the work of the cotton pad she swipes along his skin.

She and Alexis spoke briefly before his daughter went up to bed. Kate had lingered before following him to his en suite bathroom, watching the stairs his daughter had disappeared up with worry lining her face.

"She never hated you," he grunts, wincing when she has to scrub at a spot on his forehead with a little too much vigor. She's been wiping makeup from his skin for the last twenty minutes, standing in front of him while he perched on the edge of his bathtub in his pajamas. "She was upset with me."

"And she's a protective daughter. Trust me, I get it," she assures him gently. Her thumb skims the curve of his eyebrow and he opens his eyes to find her studying him. "I think I should go home tonight, Rick."

He eases his hands onto her hips, watching her brow arch in response.

"I don't want to rush things with Alexis," she elaborates, tossing the cotton pad into the trash and reaching for a clean hand towel.

She dries his face with tender brushes.

"She is unaware you've stayed here at all," he reasons. "I doubt tonight would be any different. Besides, it's late."

"Castle, it's ten," she chuckles, but she hasn't shoved his hands from the resting place of her hipbones. "There's no reason for me to stay."

"No?" He rises slowly from the edge of the tub, holding her gaze the entire time. "What if I need you?"

Her nostrils flare ever so subtly, a tell he's picked up on. She's struggling to ignore him.

"Cuddling is part of our healing journey, Beckett."

She rolls her eyes and shoves on his chest, but doesn't fight the tug of his hand on her arm, the offering of his clothes, his bed.

-

Castle's eyes flutter open. It's barely light out and it's early, he can tell that much upon waking. But something has woken him, the featherlight dance of a touch to his cheek.

As his vision focuses, he sees Kate lying beside him, her fingers migrating from his face to comb through his hair.

He hums and shifts closer to her, burrowing into the warmth of her body.

Her arms wrap around his neck while his band around her spine. Their legs are tangled and her lips are moving against his ear.

"I gotta go," she whispers, turning her head to graze a kiss to his temple.

He sighs and loosens his grip on her, allows her to untangle their limbs.

"See you in a few hours?" she murmurs, one of her hands still reluctant to leave him, draped along his jaw.

"Of course," he yawns, gazing up at her from his pillow.

She bites her bottom lip for a second before leaning forward, lingering there before tilting her head, dusting her mouth to his. Instantly, his senses come alive under the electricity of her lips.

Castle's arms stall in their retreat from her body, reclaiming their hold on her again.

A smile blooms on her mouth before she's kissing him with more confidence, fitting the curve of her lips to his. He hums in response, kisses her back, and feels her body canting into his.

"Mm, Beckett, you make it hard to let you go," he grumbles, feeling more than hearing the rumble of her laughter.

She stains another kiss to his mouth, mumbling a last farewell against the corner of his mouth before regretfully pulling her body from the bed.

-

The storm batters against his windows, lightning illuminating his office as he deletes the murder board on his screen, Kate's face disappearing with the tap of his fingers.

They fought last night in her apartment, his love for her used like a bargaining chip for her life, and it wasn't enough.

He's done. He loves her with a fierce strength and softness, in ways he's never loved anyone else, but he can't watch her throw her life away.

It'll just hurt more.

No, he would rather try and gain as much distance as he can before he gets the call that Kate has become the latest to fall victim to the Dragon's wrath.

The knocking on his door begins with vigor.

He pauses, unsure. His first thought is that it must be Kate and the last thing he wants is another argument. But, it could also be Alexis. He turned his phone off after the third consistent ring with Kate's number flashing across the screen. What if his daughter needed him?

Shit.

He curses himself for his ignorance, vowing to turn the phone back on as soon as he checks the door.

Rick composes his expression, ensuring he doesn't look as hassled as he feels, not wanting to alarm his daughter on her special night if it is her.

He unlocks the door, tugs it open, and feels all of that hard work immediately fall, frown returning instantly at the sight of Kate Beckett.

She's soaked to the skin, dripping rain all over the carpeted hall of the building and the entryway to his loft.

"Beckett," he sighs, his fingers already clenching around the door's edge. "What do you want?"

"You," she whispers, breaching the slim space the door allows and reaching for him.

His body betrays him, moving too slowly to block the ascent of her hands to his face, the rise of her body into his, the adamant press of her mouth.

"You had that," he grunts into her kiss before prying her hands from his cheeks. But he doesn't let her go, he can't. So he holds her captured wrists to his chest, studies the desperate features lining her face, the trembling form of her body. "What happened?"

"He got away," she rasps, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "And I didn't care."

Traitorous hope seeps through the cracks of his heart.

"I almost died and all I could think about was you," she breathes, her head shaking as her gaze roams his face, taking him in as if seeing for the first time. Seeing him clearly. "I'm so sorry, Castle. You were right and I'm - I'm sorry."

Her wrists rotate in his loosened grasp, fingers climbing to bridge at the back of his neck. Her toes arch, lifting her body to meet his, allowing her lips to ghost over his.

"I love you." The words sound sacred falling from her mouth onto his. "I'm sorry I didn't treat you like it."

He suffers only a split moment of indecision - he loves her back, he always will, even though she scares the shit out of him.

Castle layers his mouth over hers, swallows the moan she exhales at the bruise of his kiss, the surge of his body using hers to shut the door. Kate cradles his head in her hands as he kisses her, the tenderness of all the nights before, of the last kiss she graced him with, gone in favor of the brutal fall of his mouth upon hers, the needful crush of his bones into hers.

She doesn't seem to mind, every scrape of his teeth, press of his palm, and grip of his fingers being returned with fervor.

His hands tangle in her hair, wet and dripping down his bare forearms, tilting her face upwards. She gasps when his tongue slides past her parted lips, swiping along hers and exploring the cove of her mouth like he's always wanted to. They've kissed like this before, frenzied and frantic in a darkened parking lot under the ruse of saving Ryan and Esposito, but there was still an ounce of restraint alive then. She had a boyfriend and he was desperate to show her how good they could be together, but they were allowed so little time, so much uncertainty.

Not tonight.

Her head drops back against the door as he skates lips and teeth along her jaw, down her neck. Her arms are clinging to him, her hips clashing with his, as if she can't keep him close enough.

He slows, though, when he reaches the bared flesh of her chest, the scarred skin between her breasts. His thumb skims the spot with reverence, his lips dust there next, feeling her shudder beneath him.

She whimpers as he travels his mouth up her skin, teeth nipping at her collarbone, tongue slicking along the rain coated flesh of her exposed shoulder, her throat.

"Rick," she breathes, the fingers of one hand fisting in his hair, the other slipping between them to yank at the buttons of his shirt.

Castle slides his hands down her sides, her hips, and curls them around her thighs. She's ready when he lifts her, using her toes to hop into his arms.

He chuckles as her arms wrap around his neck and she flips her hair to one side, angling her head to kiss him again.

"Eager, Beckett?" he smirks into her mouth, digging his fingers into her ass as she takes his bottom lip between her teeth.

"Yes," she admits without hesitation, letting him go for a split second to shrug the sopping leather jacket from her shoulders.

It hits the floor with a wet slap, but he can't be bothered to care. She smiles into the next kiss she lays upon his mouth, her happiness tasting like champagne bubbles on his tongue.

"You really love cuddling with me, huh?"

She laughs, tightening her thighs around his waist as they start for his bedroom.

"I plan to do more than cuddle with you tonight, Castle." Her thumb traces the bone of his cheek. "Think you can handle it?"

Her eyes are sparkling, gold flashing excitement rippling through her irises.

Castle kicks the door of his office shut with his foot and carries her into the bedroom.

"The real question is, can you? If you're planning to be up with the sun-"

"No," she cuts him off, kissing him quickly before he can lower them to the bed. He bends to lay her across the mattress, the bracket of her thighs drawing down him into the cradle of her hips. "I don't plan to leave early."

"Oh?" he muses, brushing back the damp strands of hair from her cheeks.

Her fingers thread through his hair, trickle down his neck, and trail along his spine, sending a shiver through him. Her eyes wander across his face, as if studying every feature, lips settling into a soft smile.

"I want to stay," she whispers, like it's a secret.

"Then please," he murmurs, resting his forehead to hers for a moment, breathing into the thin space between them. "Stay."