What Makes You Stronger

For Detective Kate Beckett, getting to know her barista, Rick, better may end up being more than she bargained for. Caskett AU

Trigger Warnings for: Sexual Assault, Abuse. Note: no assault or abuse take place in the story, it's only discussed as past events.

There will be 12 chapters

ONE

Kate Beckett winced as the wind directed a spray of mist in her direction. Not rain—mist. Why was it misting? Was that worse than rain? For her hair, it definitely was. She had wisely chosen the bun that day, which was good; otherwise, her nice flowing curls would have turned into frizz half a block into her walk.

With a sigh, Kate flipped up the collar of her trench coat and hunched down into it, trying to keep as much as the moisture off her neck and face as she could. She could make it—just a few more blocks to Starbucks and then another half-block to the subway station. She could handle the mist for that duration.

Annoying as it was, Kate was glad that the misty rain most likely meant the end of snow and ice. Late March snowstorms were not unheard of, but certainly uncommon. She was glad for the spring; it would mean a fresh start for her in more ways than one.

For nine months the newly anointed Detective Kate Beckett had dedicated herself one hundred and fifty percent to her job. She ate, breathed, and slept her cases. When on the off chance she was not working an official case, she was either at the gym, prepping for a court appearance, or working on the cold case that haunted her existence.

It was an exhausting job—she wouldn't lie about that or try to deny it—but the good kind of exhausting; the satisfying kind. With each victim she obtained justice for, with each arrest she made, Kate knew she was making a difference. The NYPD made her their youngest female detective ever and she was hell bent not to let them down. Of course, Kate could not have accomplished even half as much as she had without her addition to the liquid-gold substance known as coffee.

Kate could rarely recall a time she did not start her shift with coffee. In fact, if pressed to think of a situation, she wasn't sure she could even come up with one. Ever since she was a rookie, beginning a shift with a caffeine jolt was an absolute must. Back then it was the department-provided swill she drank as she was still paying off school loans and it was free. It was not, however, quality coffee by any stretch of the imagination.

When Kate made detective, her obsessive dedication to the job had her arriving earlier than necessary for her shift and staying later, which meant more and more cups of the precinct-issue coffee descended over her reluctant palate. However, six weeks into her new position, the universe smiled upon her and a Starbucks opened up on the route from her apartment to the subway. The chain store could not help her with cups two, three, or four (or five, six, seven) of the day, but she certainly could have a high-quality first cup.

At first, Kate tried to splurge only a few times a week, but as the winter chill set in her pilgrimage to the all-prominent chain became regular. She had become one of those New Yorkers—a Starbucks regular. But she couldn't help it—nor was she particularly brand loyal. If the corner shop in her path had been a Dunkin' Donuts she still would have stopped for coffee; anything was better than the gritty, overly acidic brew at the twelfth.

When the green and white sign came into her view, Kate hurried her walk to a near sprint, blinking her eyes repeatedly against the stinging mist until she was safely inside the warm—and dry!—atmosphere of the coffee shop. The delightful smell of ground, roasted beans drifted beneath her nostrils and her mist-induced scowl disappeared immediately. If she could wear the scent of freshly brewed coffee as a perfume she probably would; maybe someday that would be invented.

On that particular day, a Wednesday, Kate had pulled the early shift, which meant she was entering her favorite shop at the oh-so-early time of 6:12 a.m. Generally, when she went into the coffee shop that early—or, really, any time before seven—it was not too crowded. Maybe only one or two people were in the shop with her at any given time. That morning, however, was different.

Standing at the counter ordering drinks and breakfast sandwiches were a trio of men. Unlike the regular Starbucks early morning patrons these men were not wearing suits or carrying briefcases. Instead, they were dressed in jeans and jackets. All three wore baseball caps, two with the brim towards the back. As Kate observed their boisterous laughter and the way they shoved at one another her scowl returned and she could not help but wonder if perhaps they had not recently awakened, but had not yet gone to bed.

As the men moved aside, their order placed, Kate caught her first glimpse of who was working behind the counter and her scowl disappeared for the second time that day. As a regular patron of the establishment, Kate generally recognized almost every employee on shift at any given day and time. Sure, employees left and new ones began—the blonde girl behind the register being one of them; Kate had only seen her a few times before. But, for the most part, Kate recognized everyone including the barista named Rick manning the espresso machine that morning.

From the first day the shop opened, the tall, broad-shouldered, blue-eyed man had passed over her coffee with smile and a, "Have a great day." He, of course, was not working every time she ordered (his regular shift was the early morning one and sometimes she entered the shop at mid-day), but she accepted coffee from him three times a week on average.

Silly. It was silly—completely silly. Kate completely and one hundred percent acknowledge that it was silly—not to mention improbable, but somehow the coffee just tasted better when Rick made it. She could not put her finger on why or how. It may have been how he steamed the milk or the effort he used when squeezing out those two pumps of sugar-free vanilla, or maybe it was all in her mind, but she just knew that his cups tasted better than those made by any other barista.

Then again, maybe the answer was not physically quantifiable because it was all in her mind. She liked Rick's coffee better because she liked Rick better. And if she were being completely honest with herself, she would admit to looking forward to the days he greeted her with a smile.

Within just a few weeks of going to the new coffee shop Kate had learned the name of her preferred barista. It wasn't hard; it only took her a few glances at his nametag to remember. However, what amazed her was that it only took him a few weeks after that to learn her name. He wasn't just reading it off the cup, either. On the rare occasion he was working the register, he greeted her with, "Good morning, Kate. The usual?" Yes—he had even memorized her drink order. Given her daily appearance in the shop she supposed that wasn't too shocking, but yet he was the only one who made an effort to learn.

Kate's friend Medical Examiner Lanie Parish referred to the man as her Barista Boyfriend. Naturally, Kate brushed off this absurd moniker. Did she offer him a smile in the early hours when everyone else received nothing more than a glower? Maybe. And of course she found him handsome—she had eyes, after all, but that in no way made him her boyfriend. Nor would it. They had a barista-customer relationship that would never go any further than a flirtatious smile now and then—and Kate was perfectly fine with that.

Stepping up to the petite blonde manning the register, she placed her order for a soy latte with two pumps of sugar-free vanilla before handing over her debit card and drumming her fingertips against the counter. Kate watched the man behind the counter moved over to prepare the breakfast sandwiches that had been ordered after placing one of the cups of coffee they ordered at the pickup counter. After passing back her card and receipt, the blonde stepped over to the coffee machine and Kate tried to hide her frown. So much for extra delicious coffee on a less-than-ideal morning.

With a heavy exhale, Kate wandered over towards the pickup counter, trying her best to keep her distance from the trio of men she estimated to be several years her junior. The frat boy contingent was discussing something about the prior night or, perhaps, given their state, earlier that morning. All Kate needed to hear was something about someone's breasts being "slammin'" before she tuned them out and focused instead on the traffic building outside the window.

Just a few minutes passed before the blonde female called out her name and Kate turned to grab her cup. Almost simultaneously, Rick delivered a paper bag with breakfast sandwiches to the pickup counter. Their eyes met, and he nodded in acknowledgment of her, but absent was his usual grin. Too focused on getting her cup of precious caffeine and being on her way, Kate didn't take much notice other than to nod back.

Cradling the cup close to her chest, Kate sidled her way through the tight space, trying her best to get around the "bros" quickly, but it was difficult as they were making their way through the space with reckless abandon. One of them retrieved their bag of food while another spoke loudly at him. Obviously annoyed, the man with the food bag shoved the other, who stumbled backwards, flinging out one arm which, most unfortunately, slammed into Kate's chest. Her coffee cup was knocked from her hand spilling steaming liquid across her hand and jacket. When the cup landed on the floor, its contents exploded upwards and coated her boots along with the surrounding floor.

Immediately, silence fell across the shop and for fifteen seconds no one said anything. Then, the trio of men began to laugh. The man holding the food commented, "Dude, look what you did?"

"Oops." He laughed and then the three of them left without ever looking back or apologizing.

Cursing inwardly, Kate gazed down at the floor and at her coffee-covered handed, momentarily too stunned by the rudeness of the men to react in any other way. Fortunately, she did not have to, because not a moment later Rick was by her side with a rag in hand saying, "Here. Let me."

Kate glanced over at him, somewhat stunned. He was at her side barely a few seconds after the incident. Had he leapt over the counter to come to her aid? That would have been…unexpected. "I…it's fine," she said on instinct. As much as those men had been assholes, no permanent damage was done. Her trench coat was water resistant and, thankfully, already a chestnut brown color. Her boots would also wipe off. She only needed some napkins for her hands.

"I'm so sorry," Rick said before dropping to his knees. He then pick up her now empty cup and started to mop up what had spilled around her.

"It's not your fault; you didn't crash into me." She promised before walking to the nearby counter and grabbing a handful of napkins to dab at her hands and onto her jacket.

"Can I…can I get you something? A wet paper towel?"

She glanced up at him and shook her head. "No, I'm fine, but thank you. I'll just, ah, go wash my hands in the bathroom."

After dumping her wadded up soiled napkins into the nearest trashcan, Kate walked back to the restroom tucked in the corner of the shop. She soaped her hands and rinsed them only to notice some of the coffee had splashed onto the sleeve of her cream colored blouse. That was less than ideal, but it was possible the mark would come out when she did laundry. At least the stain was only on the very edge.

A minute later Kate exited the restroom and found Rick practically blocking her path to the door, a take-away cup of coffee in his hand. "Here; a replacement."

"Oh." She gazed up at his sheepish grin with no small amount of surprise. She had not expected that, especially with other patrons now waiting in line. She reached out and took the cup, making sure she had a solid grip on it. "You didn't have to do that." She was glad he did, though; she would get her extra-delicious coffee after all.

He bobbed his head. "I insist. I hope your day continues better than it started."

She offered him a small smile. "Thanks, Rick; you have a good day, too."

Stepping back onto the streets of New York, she found that the mist had turned into a drizzle, but Kate didn't mind. Though she did walk a bit quicker than normal the next half block to the subway stop, the soft smile didn't leave her face; maybe that day would be a good day after all.