3x10 – Last Call

"I will only accept this if you all share it with me."

They squeeze into two cabs, Ryan and Esposito in one, Kate, Castle, and Captain Montgomery in the other. The back seat fits three but it's tight. Castle is in the middle, his thigh pressed against Kate's. Their shoulders touch and with every turn or stop or lane change, she becomes acutely aware of just how close they are. She can feel him against her, the strong muscles of his arms and thighs, and his scent is overwhelming. But they're weaving through the Saturday night traffic, still a good eight or nine minutes from the bar, so she has no choice but to focus on the sights and sounds of the city and concentrate on keeping her breathing and heartbeat steady.

She's not doing so well on either count.

Finally, finally, they arrive outside the Old Haunt and Kate hastily steps out of the car and onto the curb, taking a moment to cleanse her nostrils with a large breath of fresh evening air. The days have become shorter and winter has long since descended on the city but the first snow has yet to fall, bathing Manhattan instead in an icy chill. On the sidewalks, people bustle by, bundled in warm jackets and boots, colorful hats and gloves and scarves. It brings swatches of color to the otherwise drab day, a rainbow of knitted yarn illuminated by the endless array of streetlights and storefront signs.

Kate pulls her jacket more tightly around herself, folding her arms in front of her chest to stave off the wind that funnels through the streets. It whips her hair into her face and she lifts a hand to push it back just as Castle joins her on the sidewalk. Ryan and Esposito are already waiting with Montgomery, and Castle nudges her arm, nods to the other three men. "You coming?"

She glances up at the dark green façade, then over to Castle. She offers a small smile, biting back her emotions. The truth is, she loves how passionate he is about this place and its history. And she loves that he cared enough about protecting it to actually buy the place. But she's not about to tell him that. His ego has already been boosted enough today.

So she settles with, "lead the way."

They crowd around a curved corner booth, Ryan and Esposito on one side, Castle and Kate on the other, and Montgomery on a chair at the end. Castle carefully opens the bottle of St. Miriam and pours a generous portion into each of five tumblers. Esposito passes them around the table, and they all raise their glasses in a toast.

"To the best team of detectives in the city," Montgomery chimes in.

"To another murderer brought to justice."

"To a fabulous Saturday night."

"To keeping the Old Haunt alive."

"To Donny," Castle calls out.

They all drink then, the liquid rich as it burns down their throats. They fall into easy conversation then, filled with smiles and laughter and no small amount of ribbing directed at New York's newest bar owner. But Castle takes it with ease, his smile never faltering and the twinkle in his eye never fading. It seems as though nothing can ruin the mood tonight.

Following the second round of scotch, the evening becomes more boisterous. Ryan and Esposito challenge Castle to a game of darts, and when he loses miserably he stubbornly challenges them to another. And then another. Somehow, Kate and Montgomery end up rotating in as well.

After that, they play three terribly inaccurate games of pool, and Kate has no idea who wins any of them. Hell, she's not even sure anyone knows what team they're on. It's not that they're drunk; far from it, in fact. But it's been a while since they've all been out like this and Kate sometimes forgets how competitive Ryan, Esposito, and Castle can be. It's entertaining nonetheless and she has to admit, reluctant though she was to come out tonight, she's enjoying herself immensely.

Somehow, she even lets the guys talk her into singing karaoke and together they belt out a terrible rendition of Piano Man.

In between all the mayhem, Kate catches Castle staring at her more than once. The combination of the liquor and the ambiance highlights the dark of his eyes, shimmering dangerously in the muted yellow glow. She swallows hard, forces herself to ignore the fact that he looks especially handsome tonight, sleeves rolled back to expose his strong forearms and the top two buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a delicious sliver of smooth skin.

Wow, she must be drunker than she realized.

Kate downs the last swallow of her second tumbler of the St. Miriam, graciously declining Castle's offer for more. It's getting late and her thoughts are fast entering dangerous territory. She really should be going.

Montgomery excuses himself around eleven to head home to his family. Ryan leaves not long after, to a chorus of Esposito and Castle calling him Honeymilk. Kate means to leave (for the second time) around this time too but Josh is on shift, and staying is far more appealing than heading home to an empty apartment. So against her better judgment she accepts another finger of scotch and the three of them fall into an easy conversation. Esposito stays through this round, laughing and joking and even singing another round of slightly-drunken karaoke. But around twelve thirty, he too calls it a night.

And suddenly, it's just the two of them.

Castle's cheeks are flushed and he's long since given up the charade of not being completely turned on. His eyes haven't left her since the moment Esposito headed out; he's been unsubtly staring at her cleavage for most of the last five minutes. Kate pinches the fabric of her shirt over her stomach, pulls it away from her skin. Between pool and karaoke and the alcohol and all the people, it's hot in the bar and the fabric is sticking to her.

She stubbornly ignores the voice in the back of her head pointing out that there's another reason for the heat. A ruggedly handsome reason with piercing blue eyes and a lopsided smile that's somehow even more adorable now that she's a few drinks in.

"So..." Castle ventures, one finger absently tracing the rim of his glass. Beads of condensation are collecting on the sides and he trails his finger down, smearing a line through the fog.

"So..." she echoes. Silence falls again as Kate scrambles for something to say. Anything to end the awkward silence. She glances around, eyes flitting over the ancient décor, the photographs on the walls and the tall wooden tables and chairs.

"I can't believe you bought a bar," she says finally.

Castle shrugs. "Things like this deserve to be preserved, not turned into some new establishment."

"So you're not gonna rename it?" she asks, recalling their conversation at the precinct.

Castle shakes his head, finger still busy swiping away the condensation only to have it return again momentarily. A losing battle but he seems in no hurry to win. "Nah. Doesn't seem right."

"Hmmm."

Silence falls again, briefly. Kate's eyes are still on a path around the place, pausing to linger at the photograph of Castle. She can't see it well from here but she remembers where it hangs, knows it's the one of him.

"You really used to write here?"

Castle takes a long swig of his drink, nods slowly as he swallows. "All the time."

Kate hums a response, fingernail scraping through a crack in the old wooden surface of the table. "Why here?"

He shrugs. "There's so much history. Places like this, everyone has a story, you know?"

Kate can't help but smile. As much as she knows he loves getting real-life crime solving insight from her, she loves these moments when she's allowed a peek into his writing process, into the way his mind works. Annoying though he may have been when they first met, she's always held his writing in high regard.

"You ever gonna admit to having read all of my books?" he asks teasingly, as though he knows exactly what she's thinking about. He probably does. Sometimes she thinks he knows her better than she knows herself. Truth be told, it terrifies her.

She pushes the thoughts away, forces herself to focus on the conversation. "Nope."

He cocks his head. "Why not?"

"Because I haven't," she lies easily. She knows him, is familiar with his need to know the whole story, and this is one story she's not yet ready to share.

He snorts in disbelief but doesn't press further.

They fall into silence again, this one easy and companionable. But it's nearing one a.m. and Kate finds herself stifling a yawn.

Castle does the same before sitting back, pushing his glass towards the center of the table. "It's late," he offers.

"Yeah," she agrees. She's secretly not ready to leave but she knows that she needs to. "I should head out."

He stands first and is already reaching for her jacket before she has a chance to. He helps her into it, fingers teasing her hair out from under the collar and lingering to smooth down the fabric. Kate fights the shiver that races down her spine as his fingertips graze the skin of her neck. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, focuses on the buttons of her jacket.

Castle seems to sense her hesitance and steps back, busies himself with collecting their glasses and depositing them behind the bar. He returns promptly, shrugging into his own jacket and picking up the empty bottle of scotch from the tabletop. Kate doesn't even have to ask to know that he's planning to save it for eternity.

She leads the way through the mingling crowds and out into the night, working her fingers into her gloves and she climbs the steps up to the level of the sidewalk, Castle on her heels.

"I'm glad you came out tonight," he says softly, coming to a stop beside her at the top of the stairs. His eyes bore into hers, the blue rings dancing with the lights of the city but somehow still so clear and bright.

Kate can't help but smile, so caught up in this gentle feeling that's settled over them. She rests her hand on his upper arm, shyly lifts her eyes to his. "Me too. I had a good time."

And she finds she truly means it. She's not entirely sure she'll ever be comfortable with the underlying attraction and tension that charges the air between them. But these quiet conversations where she gets a glimpse into the intelligent, enthusiastic, caring, genuine man he truly is? She loves them.

His eyes hold hers, head tilting questioningly when she disappears into her thoughts for a few seconds too long. Kate shakes her head sharply and drops her hand, pushes the thoughts away and forces a smile.

"Alright, well, good night," she offers.

The flash of disappointment is so rapid she almost thinks she's imagined it, but it can't stop the clench of her heart. He may have a girlfriend but she knows he cares about her. He's never been able to hide it. And though she's spent the better part of two years denying it, she cares for him too. But it's complicated, and not something she feels like sorting through at one in the morning on the cold streets of Manhattan.

But as quickly as it was there, it's gone, replaced with a smile. "Have a good night, Kate."

Kate steps away with one last timid glance, turns to hail a cab. Castle watches her open the door and slide in, one last look thrown over her shoulder with what he assumes is meant to be a smile. But the last thing he sees before she disappears into the night is her face through the glass, a look of longing clouding the beautiful green of her eyes.

Thoughts?