castle fic: how it goes
Title: How It Goes
Summary: They had imagined it different than this. But this is okay, too.
Words: 686
Disclaimer: Not mine.
She thought it would go like this:
She will have convinced him to stay while she finishes paperwork ['convinced' being defined as 'pouted until he got that stupid, lovestruck look on his face and he dropped back into the chair next to her desk'] and he would make paper airplanes out of her Post-It notes. He'll write jokes on them before he folds them and then throw them at her face; they will bounce off her nose and get in the way of her signature so she has to move them and read them before she can continue. The jokes are mostly lame, things Alexis told him in first grade that he's never forgotten, but one of them will actually be funny. Downright hilarious, really, and she would only stop laughing long enough to lean over and kiss him.
Because she's forgotten she shouldn't.
He'll get that stupid, lovestruck look on his face again before he grins, bright and wide: "Oh, okay," he'll say, voice hoarse with surprise. "So I should tell jokes more often?"
He thought it would go like this:
One of them would be in trouble. [It seemed like one of them was always in trouble.] He would save her or she would save him [he thinks it will be the latter; it is her turn, after all] and they would grab each other in some sort of life-affirming embrace, pressed so close that he could feel her breath on his neck and feel her heart beat through his shirt.
And when one of them pulled out of the embrace [her, probably, because he's not likely to let her go if he can help it], the other would lean forward [him, most likely, because he is sure of them in ways she is not yet] and press their lips together in a surprisingly chaste kiss.
He imagines that he'll rest his forehead against hers and make himself go cross-eyed trying to keep eye contact. And the grin on his face will be a little shy and he'll ask, "Can I just, can I do that again?"
And she'll grin back and just shrug and say, "Sure, Castle."
The boys thought it would go like this:
She would walk in from some undercover op that he hadn't been invited to, in some slinky dress with six-inch heels and legs that go all the way down the floor. His jaw would drop and he'd make innuendo after innuendo until she was so fed up that she starts making out with him just to shut him up.
(Ideally, this would happen on a Tuesday. They have Tuesday in the pool. Lanie has Friday.)
It actually goes like this:
He does stay while she finishes the paperwork because she did save his life that afternoon. The boys have cleared out and when she signs the last page [with exaggerated flourish, just to see him smile] he gives her a high-five and uses the action to grab her hand and haul her to her feet.
They stop by The Old Haunt to pick up some chicken wings and curly fries [they don't deliver but there are advantages to owning the joint, he whispers, smuggling the food out the door under his jacket] and go back to the loft where his daughter and mother are waiting with hugs and booze. It's not the first, or fifth, or even twelfth time this has happened. Tradition, the word echoes in the back of her head. Routine, and she doesn't often acknowledge how true it is.
And after all the food is eaten and his mother and daughter have retreated upstairs, they sit on the couch and he tugs her closer because she saved him less than twelve hours ago. He presses a kiss to her crown and she responds by kissing his jaw and they both sit there kind of flabbergasted for a moment because they're actually, finally doing this, aren't they?
"I'd like to stay," she says, as though he asked.
"I'd like you to stay," he says, as if it was even a question.
And they just go on from there.
Summary: They had imagined it different than this. But this is okay, too.
Words: 686
Disclaimer: Not mine.
She thought it would go like this:
She will have convinced him to stay while she finishes paperwork ['convinced' being defined as 'pouted until he got that stupid, lovestruck look on his face and he dropped back into the chair next to her desk'] and he would make paper airplanes out of her Post-It notes. He'll write jokes on them before he folds them and then throw them at her face; they will bounce off her nose and get in the way of her signature so she has to move them and read them before she can continue. The jokes are mostly lame, things Alexis told him in first grade that he's never forgotten, but one of them will actually be funny. Downright hilarious, really, and she would only stop laughing long enough to lean over and kiss him.
Because she's forgotten she shouldn't.
He'll get that stupid, lovestruck look on his face again before he grins, bright and wide: "Oh, okay," he'll say, voice hoarse with surprise. "So I should tell jokes more often?"
He thought it would go like this:
One of them would be in trouble. [It seemed like one of them was always in trouble.] He would save her or she would save him [he thinks it will be the latter; it is her turn, after all] and they would grab each other in some sort of life-affirming embrace, pressed so close that he could feel her breath on his neck and feel her heart beat through his shirt.
And when one of them pulled out of the embrace [her, probably, because he's not likely to let her go if he can help it], the other would lean forward [him, most likely, because he is sure of them in ways she is not yet] and press their lips together in a surprisingly chaste kiss.
He imagines that he'll rest his forehead against hers and make himself go cross-eyed trying to keep eye contact. And the grin on his face will be a little shy and he'll ask, "Can I just, can I do that again?"
And she'll grin back and just shrug and say, "Sure, Castle."
The boys thought it would go like this:
She would walk in from some undercover op that he hadn't been invited to, in some slinky dress with six-inch heels and legs that go all the way down the floor. His jaw would drop and he'd make innuendo after innuendo until she was so fed up that she starts making out with him just to shut him up.
(Ideally, this would happen on a Tuesday. They have Tuesday in the pool. Lanie has Friday.)
It actually goes like this:
He does stay while she finishes the paperwork because she did save his life that afternoon. The boys have cleared out and when she signs the last page [with exaggerated flourish, just to see him smile] he gives her a high-five and uses the action to grab her hand and haul her to her feet.
They stop by The Old Haunt to pick up some chicken wings and curly fries [they don't deliver but there are advantages to owning the joint, he whispers, smuggling the food out the door under his jacket] and go back to the loft where his daughter and mother are waiting with hugs and booze. It's not the first, or fifth, or even twelfth time this has happened. Tradition, the word echoes in the back of her head. Routine, and she doesn't often acknowledge how true it is.
And after all the food is eaten and his mother and daughter have retreated upstairs, they sit on the couch and he tugs her closer because she saved him less than twelve hours ago. He presses a kiss to her crown and she responds by kissing his jaw and they both sit there kind of flabbergasted for a moment because they're actually, finally doing this, aren't they?
"I'd like to stay," she says, as though he asked.
"I'd like you to stay," he says, as if it was even a question.
And they just go on from there.