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“Well, I hope insurance pays for dry cleaning.”
The sentence echoed in Rick Castle’s mind for far longer than the terrifying sound of Beckett’s apartment windows exploding. The past two days were a blur he had only just been able to start to process. This was, of course, complicated by the fact that she was now staying in his apartment. His mind could never get over the idea that she was only over in the next room.
Incredibly distracting.
He was worried about her. Yes, that had to be it. She seemed to take the idea of being blown up by a serial murderer fan in stride far too easily. He knew how shaken he was, and he wasn’t even the target. There was no way she was showing him her whole hand.
She had brought very little with her aside from the necklace and the watch and the clothes on her back. Of course, a good portion of her belongings had gone up in smoke, so there wasn’t much to bring. Castle’s fingers twitched. He had money. He could do something, couldn’t he?
A patter of feet on the stairs made him turn.
“Ah, Alexis. Have you seen Beckett recently?” He asked as his daughter moved to rifle through the snacks cabinet. “Wait, that’s my secret stash! You’re not supposed to know that’s there.”
Alexis raised an eyebrow as she pulled out a packet of imported Japanese crisps. “And yet I do. No, either she’s out or she’s been very quiet.”
“Great,” her father replied, digging for his wallet. He handed Alexis his credit card and made his best Serious Dad Face. “I’m assigning you a secret mission: call my mother and have her take you around the shops. I figure the two of you have a better idea of….soap.”
Alexis smirked, looking down at the card. “You’re telling me you don’t use soap in the shower?”
Castle’s serious face broke. “No! Yes! You know what I mean. Women soap. You know what? Whatever. I just want Detective Beckett to feel at home.”
Alexis laughed, pulling out her phone. “I got you. We’ll probably be back around 9. See you, dad!”
Castle smiled in return as she left, then looked around for his shoes. He had his own mission to accomplish.
-
Castle hoped that for once, he didn’t turn any heads. A well-dressed man walking down the street near sundown with an armful of smoky, stinking, women’s clothing was an odd picture, indeed. Thank goodness for the insistent indifference of New Yorkers. He turned a corner and noted the dry cleaning shop’s hours as he fumbled the door open with his foot. They were closing soon.
The man at the counter’s expression became strained as Castle approached the counter, balancing his armful as best he could so they could make eye contact. “I’d like to get these cleaned. How much?” He asked. He knew very little about dry cleaning, just that it got done.
The man inspected the pile. “$5 an item, pickup tomorrow.”
Castle pursed his lips, shifting the clothes to reach for his wallet. “Can I persuade it to go faster?”
“We close in half an hour. Pickup tomorrow.”
“It’s kind of an emergency.” Castle placed a bill on the counter. The man raised an eyebrow. He added another. The eyebrow kept climbing. The fourth Ben Franklin apparently did the trick.
The man pressed his lips together. “Come back in an hour,” he said. “But don’t be late, or pickup tomorrow.”
“That, I can do,” Castle replied with a smile.
Stepping out of the dry cleaning shop, he started up the street. He had an hour to kill. Should he pick up anything else? Flowers? No, it wasn’t like that. Too overt. Alexis had sent him a text update; she and Martha were taking care of the essentials, and from the looks of it, a few extras as well.
His stomach rumbled. Snacks sounded like a good idea. There was an excellent pastry shop a block from Beckett’s apartment. He’d head there.
A chilly breeze picked up as he walked, sending a plastic something skidding across the sidewalk. Castle loved the closeness of New York, the familiarity. It made him feel both powerful when he was recognized and anonymously comfortable when he was just one more body in the crowded streets. There weren’t that many people out now, as the sun and temperature dropped and the glow of neon signs sharpened in the twilight. He watched and wondered what the people around him’s lives were like: were there killers among them? Or victims? Would he ever find himself investigating their case? How long until he himself became a target?
A door thumped closed as he passed a bar and he brushed shoulders with someone. “‘Scuse me,” he said, lost in thought.
“Castle?”
Oh boy, did he know that voice extremely well. He stopped and turned, smiling, with finger guns. “Hiiii Beckett. Fancy meeting you here.”
“Castle, what are you doing?” She frowned.
He panicked. She couldn’t know. It would ruin the surprise. “I- nothing. Nothing at all.” He wiggled his eyebrows, turned, and sprinted around the corner, congratulating himself for avoiding an awkward situation. He stopped pretty quickly, though, to bend over and catch his breath.
Except Kate Beckett was a cop, and a cop who was more in shape than him, and a cop whose job was specifically to catch people who run and hide from her. Castle let out a screech as his pursuer drove her heel into the toe of his shoe, neatly preventing him from taking off again.
“What are you doing?” She asked again, more insistently.
“What are YOU doing? I thought you were in my house.”
Her steely eyes broke contact. “Well, I was. I just..wanted to get some fresh air.”
Castle frowned. “You know, my air is plenty fresh. My air purifiers are top-notch. So if you think there’s something wrong with one, let me know and I’ll get them repair-”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Oh. No, I don’t think I do.”
Beckett put an exasperated hand to her face. “It’s weird, okay? It’s weird not having my apartment to go back to. It’s the only place I can get to be alone in this whole city, and now it’s gone.”
Castle pondered this. “I’ll make sure Alexis doesn’t bother you.”
Beckett grinned wryly. “Alexis isn’t the problem.”
“Martha?”
“Also not the problem.”
“Look, I’ll leave you alone if you want.”
Beckett sighed. “Sure. I guess. It’s still not the same.” Her expression focused again. “I still want to know why you’re out here, at night, close to my apartment, if you weren’t looking for me.” Castle’s strained smile crept its way back on his face.
“I…have a meeting at 9.”
“Nobody has meetings at 9pm on a Friday night.”
“A meeting with…my snacks supplier.” He tried for an aloof expression. “Alexis has been stealing from my stash.”
That did it. She finally cracked a bit of a smile. “I’ll have to ask her where it is.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
Apparently tentatively satisfied with his answer, she took a step as if she was about to walk away. “Try me.”
Realizing she was leaving, Castle stopped. His expression dropped. “You’ll come home?” he asked quietly. She nodded, and started down the sidewalk in the direction of her old place.
Castle watched her for a beat before realizing how disastrously close he had been to revealing his plans. He checked his watch. He indeed, had a meeting to make. But first, snacks.
-
Castle felt extremely pleased with himself. He had managed to get Beckett’s entire closet cleaned, pressed, and transported back to his apartment without ruining anything–and despite not knowing a lick about dry cleaning. Some of the items had been beyond repair, the technician had said, but he had those folded and bagged anyway. You never know how meaningful a certain item was to someone.
The best part? Beckett wasn’t even back yet. But then neither were Alexis and Martha, which was slightly more worrying. He decided he would go ahead and put Beckett’s clothes in the closet of the room she was staying in. That would make it feel more homey, right? Like she belonged here.
He hadn’t looked too hard at the items when he’d grabbed them initially. Most of it seemed like the things she wore to work–smart, practical, classic. He decided to hang everything because he didn’t know what was what or how she liked it organized. Some of the things looked pretty nice. A couple dresses he’d seen her wear to various events, a few he’d never seen. He tried extremely hard not to picture her in them.
He almost didn’t hear the front door shut. The footsteps were not accompanied by the rustle of shopping bags and twittering that would have been Alexis and Martha. Thinking fast, Castle quick-stepped out the bedroom door and smiled a greeting.
“Hey Castle,” Beckett brushed past him and into the room. She set a bag of something on the bed. Noticing his curious expression, she explained. “I dropped by the apartment for anything else I could find that survived.” Her point was underscored when she pulled out her handgun and casually stowed it in the bedside table drawer. Castle started.
“Wait. You were at your apartment when?”
“Just a bit ago,” she replied, rustling with the bag.
“Because so was I.”
“I know,” she said lightly, turning to face him. “Things had moved. And your story about the snacks was not convincing.”
“I’m offended,” Castle replied, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense.
“Look, you’re a billionaire…if you wanted food you’d have it delivered.” Castle had no reply. “Besides, it was obvious when I saw someone had taken my clothes-” She turned to the closet and her eyebrows dropped. “-to be cleaned? You took my clothes…?” Her expression softened.
“I just wanted you to feel more…at home, I suppose,” Castle replied.
Beckett shook her head. “You didn’t have to do that. But…thank you.” They smiled at each other before the front door opened again; this time the rustling of bags was present.
“Here comes the calvary,” Castle muttered with a smile, and went out to greet them. “Hello mother, Alexis. How were the shops?”
“Well, they were disappointingly out of my favorite shade of lipstick,” Martha begrudged.
“But Beckett’s things are all set,” Alexis said brightly, pulling shower items and pillowcases and a specific brand of coffee capsules Castle had never seen before out of their bags. The woman in question stepped curiously out of her room. She surveyed the things as Alexis pulled them out. A bathrobe. A toothbrush. Shampoo and conditioner. A hairbrush. Toothpaste. “I hope it’s all okay,” Alexis said sheepishly. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I just got what I knew I liked.”
“How did you know my coffee?” Beckett picked up the box.
“Oh! That day I interned at the precinct. It was the brand that the break room had; I didn’t necessarily know it was yours.”
A smile tugged at Beckett’s mouth as she looked at the girl. “Very observant. You’d make a good cop.” She gave Alexis a quick hug, which the girl returned, grinning widely.
“Thank you. This is all very kind,” Beckett said, straightening up. Her gaze dropped. She smiled and pressed her lips together, Castle thought, to avoid them quivering.
“Welcome home, Detective Beckett,” Martha smiled warmly. Beckett nodded, avoiding Castle’s eyes, and gathered a few things to take back to her room. Once she turned the corner, Alexis handed back her father’s credit card.
“Thanks,” he replied. “How much did you spend?”
Alexis sucked in a breath as she handed a shopping bag to Martha. “Um. Maybe you don’t want to know.” Castle let out a mock pained noise. “That’s my girl. Rebel with a credit card”
Beckett’s voice came from the other room. “Castle, you took my prom dress but no pajamas?”
The man facepalmed and ran back into the room. “I just grabbed from the closet; I was not about to go through your drawers!”
Martha made a face as she unpacked her bag, deliberately not looking at Alexis. “For a writer, he could have made a better choice of words just there,” she muttered.
Insurance won’t pay for dry cleaning, but Rick Castle certainly will.