LOG : Open to fanofthegenre

[mmkaternater]

The precinct is quiet. Most of the officers have gone home for the night, leaving behind their humming computers and the residue at the bottoms of two dozen chipped coffee cups. Most of the men at the precinct have families to go home to. The ones that don't, well, they volunteer to work the night shift. They roll into the precinct in pairs, jostling their belts, rattling the half-empty coffee carafes and bitching about last week's cast-off on Dancing With the Stars.

Castle sits against the wall outside Booking, a cup of oily coffee congealing between his fingers. He hasn't spoken to Beckett in twenty-four hours. He's starting to get nervous.

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[fanofthegenre]

"If something comes over the police band, I'd call you," Beckett tells him, "but for now, it's not looking likely. At all."

There might be a tinge of regret in her voice at the thought of not being able to go out on a case, but she sits back down in her chair, looking at the stacks of folders in front of her with a quiet sigh.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

Castle scoops his arms around the empty boxes and drags them all into the large plastic bag the delivery boy came in with. He ties a knot in the bag and sticks it in Espisito's trash can. "What time is it?" He checks his watch. "All right, all right, you win. Gotta' get back before Alexis' curfew expires. 'Furrow in a parental brow is a lot harder to affect when you're not even there when your kid comes in late."

He tugs his coat from the back of the chair and stands, looking down at her. It's clear that he's reluctant to go. But he puts on a brave face (his usual patent smile that charms 'em every time) and gives her a brief nod.

"See you tomorrow?"

[fanofthegenre]

She takes a swig from her water bottle, nodding thoughtfully as he mentions the need to go home in order to do something that could be considered as paternal. It is sweet, though, the way he's so concerned for her. Sometimes it's easy for her to forget that part when he's driving her crazy.

"Bright and early, I'm sure," she says, with a slight grimace.

She'll return to her files as he leaves, and true to form, if anyone should try to check on her in a few hours, she'll have fallen fast asleep on top of them.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

Which is precisely the state that Castle finds her in when he comes back a few hours later. Jimmy, the guard at the front desk, had let him in as soon as he had approached the gate. "She's still up there," Jimmy had said, giving Castle a knowing look over the top of his book (a Derek Storm, Castle was happy to see).

"City that never sleeps," Castle returned, flashing his temporary ID and sliding through the buzzing door. He takes the elevator to the bullpen and steps past the silent whooshing doors.

He sees her slumped over her desk, head resting on her forearm, face turned away from him. She had probably just put her hand in her arms for a second -- just to rest her eyes. God knows how long it had been since she'd actually gotten some decent sleep. He approaches quietly, not wanting to disturb her.

Hell, this is the calmest he's seen Kate Beckett since they'd first met. He's not going to waste an opportunity.

[fanofthegenre]

Beckett sleeps on relatively peacefully, though upon waking or being woken up, she's going to have a hell of a crick in her neck from sleeping at this angle.

Fortunately, there's minimal to no drool, too.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

Beckett's bed of files poke out from underneath her at all angles. She's got her cheek against a mugshot, like she's dancing cheek-to-cheek with the guy. Castle brushes that cheek with the end of a rolled-up newspaper.

"Beckett," he croons softly, "put your shoes on, we're at grandma's."

[fanofthegenre]

That cheek twitches; then, Beckett reaches up to bat at the offending object with one hand, but misses, her fingers grazing her face instead. Her nose wrinkles once, face scrunching up, and then her eyes slowly blink open.

"Mmm?"

She sits up, her hair sticking out in all directions, and looks around blearily before her eyes land on Castle.

Oh.

That wakes her up pretty fast.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

If he didn;t think she'd book him faster than he could blink, Castle would have taken out his cell phone and snapped a picture of Beckett's weary, disoriented expression. He prefers to err on the side of safety. He drops the newspaper on the desk where it proceeds to uncurl, like one of those soda straw snakes.

"I think you were drooling a little," he says, knowing that she'll absolutely go pink if she thinks she drooled in front of him. Nevermind that it's invasive and rude -- Castle is amused and he's not going to stop smiling.

"You really got an edge on that paperwork thing. Let me take you home." Two entirely separate thoughts there.

[fanofthegenre]

She might shoot him a glare or two, but that's nothing compared to the look she gives him when he mentions her drooling. Her face goes beet red and she immediately turns under the pretense of finding her coat, though she does sneak in a brief wipe at the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand when she thinks he isn't looking.

It's stupid to think he wouldn't - he usually always is.

"Yeah. I think I finished," Beckett answers, looking down at the files as she shuts the open-faced folder still laying there. His offer gives her room to pause.

"You want to take me home." It's more of a question than a statement.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

"Sure," he says, as if it's the most innocent thing in the world, "I've got a cab outside. We'll split it. You're not gonna' get any beauty rest if you're stuck in here. 'Lucky I didn't find you face down in the fingerprinting ink."

[fanofthegenre]

Messy hair and all, she can still give him something resembling a glare. But he seems so sincere about it that it starts to crack under his gaze.

"Fine," she says, and then pauses. "Why'd you come back?"

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

"That's an interesting question. A more interesting query is why you're suddenly spending so much time at the precinct and, in the interest of time, I'll spare us both and answer both questions with one answer." He raises his eyebrows. "We are very, very committed to our livelihoods. Come on. Cab's waiting."

[fanofthegenre]

Beckett sighs, once, at his roundabout answer to her question, but she doesn't press the issue while she puts her coat on, adjusting the collar, and grabs her bag before they head out.

It's a relatively cool night, and the sounds of the city wake her up a little more as they get into the back of the cab.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

The cab smells like the city: a strange amalgam of street, sweat and smoke. It's practically perfume to Castle, who's lived on both coasts but never had the heart for any city other than the Big Apple. He settles in next to Beckett, rolling his lapels over his chest. The cabbie grunts for directions and Castle rattles off Beckett's street from memory. The cab begins to roll, expelling a gray cloud of exhaust that Castle can see through the rearview mirror.

He steals a look at her profile as the lights bleed over her cheeks. She looks tired but formidable. Like always.

[fanofthegenre]

It's easy for her to get lost in the sights of the city as the cab rolls by: the pharmacies on practically every corner, their fluorescent lights glaringly bright inside, the steam rising up through the sewer grates and mixing in with the air. Beckett leans her head against the back of the seat and watches out the window, idly resting her hands on her knees.

It's oddly calming now, in a way, and it feels like they reach her apartment too soon when the cab slows to a stop.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

Castle has almost fallen asleep himself, lulled by the rumbly-pumbly engine and the warmth of the taxi interior. He squints up at the facade of her building and then casts his eyes to her face. There's puffiness under her eyes. He finds himself wondering what she looks like after a good night's sleep and not just these stolen moments.

"You gettin' out, too, mac?" The cabbie fists one arm over the back of the seat and eyes Castle, groveling his ire over the toothpick on his lower lip. He's the perfect stereotype for a New York City cabbie, right down to the fleece vest and screwed-down pageboy cap. He wants money now, and he doesn't care if Castle's hitching his post here or elsewhere.

"Dropping off only," Castle says, glancing at Kate to make sure that, yes, this was the agreed-upon decision.

[fanofthegenre]

Beckett nods mutely in response. She can see Castle looking at her in her periphery. She opens the door to the cab, and the sounds of the city bring her back to reach into her bag and pull out a few bills, which she hands to the cabbie before Castle can intervene.

"Keep the change," she murmurs, and she has enough sense in her to look back, once, at him sitting there, offering a small smile.

Her face is a mix of emotions as she steps out onto the sidewalk and takes her keys in hand.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

Castle draws back into the cab, like a crab into the safety of a shell. The seat next to him feels yawning, open and empty without her. He leans back against the cracked cushion and studies the back of the cabbie's head.

"Are you to an, ah, you know." The cabbie begins to ease the car into the flood of late night traffic. Cabbies, as a rule, function as the best givers of relationship advice in the city. This one apparently took some night courses in sociology. He wags his salt and pepper brows at Castle through the rearview mirror.

"We're partners," Castle says, looking over his shoulder to the dimming street, "just partners."