A Woman in Uniform
Title: A Woman in Uniform
Word count: 1,281
Characters/pairings: Kate Beckett/Rick Castle
Rating/Warnings: PG
Summary: Beckett volunteers to work the Fourth of July. Castle wants to know why. (Shamelessly written just so I could dress Beckett, and because I love Morgenstern.)
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: No infringement intended. I'm not making any money off of this. If I were, I'd be off on a beach somewhere.
July 4th. She’d worked it every year since she’d joined the force. For whatever reason, this year she hadn’t been scheduled, and of course Richard Castle had somehow weasled that information out of Esposito and Ryan. Now here he was, sitting by her desk, eating her peanut M&Ms and trying to convince her to come see the fireworks with him.
“I know this great place,” he said, picking through the bowl. He always ate the blue ones first, as if they tasted any different. “Rooftop, great view of the river. I’ll bring some popcorn, maybe some Italian, some wine. We can spread out on a picnic blanket and wait till dark...”
Beckett snorted. “In your dreams.” Being alone with Castle on a rooftop in the summer heat-with wine-now that was a recipe for disaster.
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he wheedled. “You can kick back, relax...”
“Cops don’t ‘kick back’ on the Fourth, Castle,” she told him. “I’ll be busy.”
“But you’ve got the day off! What, you’re going to volunteer to work it?
“Yep.”
Esposito put his two cents in on his way back from the copier. “People get killed every day of the year, Castle. Even on the Fourth.”
Ryan scooted his chair over, enthusiastic. “Last year, there was this guy who had fireworks shoved down his-” He nodded significantly.
“Bro, I’m telling you, it was nasty.”
Castle’s eyes had gotten bigger. “Was there a lot of blood?”
The two detectives exchanged glances. “Oh, yeah,” Esposito said.
Beckett seized the moment. “Great! That’s settled.” When Castle turned back toward her, she said briskly, “You can tail Esposito and Ryan. I’m sure something interesting will come up.”
“But what are you going to do?”
She stood up, mug in hand. “Oh, I’ve got plans,” she said, and walked away, feeling his eyes on her back the whole way to the break room.
Once inside, she pulled out her phone and dialed. “Hey, Deb,” she said. “You want some company on the Fourth?”
* * *
Castle dragged himself out of the car, reluctant to leave the air conditioning. Perfect weather for swimming and barbecuing; not so great for business-casual shadowing of cops. Castle’s shirt and light coat were soaked through. Esposito and Ryan had to be feeling the heat, but they looked cool and unaffected. As Castle followed them inside the precinct, he wondered if that was something they’d been taught in detective school, and if they'd let him in on the secret if he bought them slushies.
“Sit tight, Castle, just gotta go talk to the boys upstairs and we’ll be out in a few minutes,” Ryan said.
Castle nodded and sank into the empty chair behind Beckett’s desk. He wondered where she’d gotten to; he hadn’t seen her all morning. Castle pulled at his damp collar and considered going home. The case so far had been simple, uninteresting; nothing had caught his eye or fired his imagination-
A heavy utility belt landed on the desk in front of him with a thunk. “You’re in my seat again, Castle.”
He spun and rose, about to retort something about her playing hooky, but suddenly found it difficult to breathe.
Kate Beckett was wearing an annoyed look, sensible boots, and full police blues.
The look didn’t bother him so much; it was directed at him multiple times a day and he was inured to it. The boots were somewhat intriguing. She wasn’t as tall in them but she looked even more capable of kicking his ass.
The uniform, though...
“You look like you’ve never seen a cop before.” She pulled the gun from the belt holster and checked it thoroughly, then reseated it and eyed him. “I wasn’t always a detective, Castle.”
“Did you get fired?” he sputtered.
She laughed. “No. I volunteered to walk a beat for the day.”
“Volun...teered?”
There was movement behind him. Another cop joined Beckett. She was a head shorter and about fifteen years older, stocky and dark-haired. She jerked her chin at Castle.
“This Writer-Boy?”
“Yeah,” Beckett answered. “Deb, this is Rick Castle. Castle, Officer O’Donnell, 20th Precinct.”
O’Donnell’s handshake was firm and dry. “So you’re the detective’s volunteer engagement. Delighted to meet you,” Castle said. He was smiling, but he already knew this wasn’t the kind of woman he could charm.
She gave him a slow once-over and apparently decided he didn’t need to be handcuffed or shot on sight. “Katie’s been working Fourths down by the river with me for the last six, seven years. My last one, since I’m taking early retirement in May.” O’Donnell looked over Beckett. “Should be fun. We always manage to get into some sort of trouble, don’t we?”
Beckett’s lips quirked. “You do have a knack for that.”
O’Donnell shrugged carelessly. “Eh, it’s the Irish side of me. I’m a magnet for trouble.” She glanced at Castle again, as if to say, I bet you are too, playboy. “Dunno about you, but this magnet needs some coffee if she’s gonna last all evening.”
Castle perched on the edge of Beckett’s desk and watched the veteran cop walk away. “How long have you known her?” he asked, fascinated.
“Most of my career,” Beckett said, buckling the belt on. “I learned a lot about how to be a good cop from Deb. She’s never been interested in becoming a detective herself, but she encouraged me. So I took her out for lunch today, and we came back here to change before our shift.”
“And you’ve worked every Fourth of July with her since you joined the force?” He watched her closely, saw the way her mouth thinned a little and how she busied her hands with her belt. But she answered him.
“Pretty much. After Mom died, we didn’t feel like going to the family picnic. Once I became a cop, it was just easier to say I was working.”
“Have you thought about going back?” he asked quietly.
She looked up at him for a moment, and he thought that maybe she had once or twice, until she found the lack of her mother’s laugh and home-made potato salad too overwhelming. Maybe the next year she’d busied herself with work, pacing every inch of the West Side Highway with laconic O’Donnell, breaking up fights and helping children who’d gotten separated from their parents in that giant block party. He imagined that at the end of the day every year she would collapse on the couch in the stifling heat of a New York summer and hold a beer to her forehead, staring blankly at the ceiling as fireworks burst again on her retinas.
“No,” she said. “I like working Fourths. Helps me brush up on things I learned when I was a beat cop. Keeps me in touch, you know?”
O’Donnell was back. “Katie, gonna go start the car, get the A/C going.”
“Okay. Be there in a sec.”
Beckett turned to Castle. “You still going to the fireworks on the Hudson?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Then maybe I’ll see you there,” she said. She sounded like she wouldn’t mind, exactly, and in fact was half-expecting to run into him.
“Count on it.” He smirked a little, as was his role. She had that look on her face again. No doubt she suspected him of plotting to get her to take him away in handcuffs. Hell, maybe he should; if he could make her laugh, it’d be worth it.
She cut such a striking figure in her blues. He whistled under his breath as she left, sure she couldn’t hear him.
“Put a sock in it, Castle.”
He grinned. “I just love a woman in uniform.”
Word count: 1,281
Characters/pairings: Kate Beckett/Rick Castle
Rating/Warnings: PG
Summary: Beckett volunteers to work the Fourth of July. Castle wants to know why. (Shamelessly written just so I could dress Beckett, and because I love Morgenstern.)
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: No infringement intended. I'm not making any money off of this. If I were, I'd be off on a beach somewhere.
July 4th. She’d worked it every year since she’d joined the force. For whatever reason, this year she hadn’t been scheduled, and of course Richard Castle had somehow weasled that information out of Esposito and Ryan. Now here he was, sitting by her desk, eating her peanut M&Ms and trying to convince her to come see the fireworks with him.
“I know this great place,” he said, picking through the bowl. He always ate the blue ones first, as if they tasted any different. “Rooftop, great view of the river. I’ll bring some popcorn, maybe some Italian, some wine. We can spread out on a picnic blanket and wait till dark...”
Beckett snorted. “In your dreams.” Being alone with Castle on a rooftop in the summer heat-with wine-now that was a recipe for disaster.
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he wheedled. “You can kick back, relax...”
“Cops don’t ‘kick back’ on the Fourth, Castle,” she told him. “I’ll be busy.”
“But you’ve got the day off! What, you’re going to volunteer to work it?
“Yep.”
Esposito put his two cents in on his way back from the copier. “People get killed every day of the year, Castle. Even on the Fourth.”
Ryan scooted his chair over, enthusiastic. “Last year, there was this guy who had fireworks shoved down his-” He nodded significantly.
“Bro, I’m telling you, it was nasty.”
Castle’s eyes had gotten bigger. “Was there a lot of blood?”
The two detectives exchanged glances. “Oh, yeah,” Esposito said.
Beckett seized the moment. “Great! That’s settled.” When Castle turned back toward her, she said briskly, “You can tail Esposito and Ryan. I’m sure something interesting will come up.”
“But what are you going to do?”
She stood up, mug in hand. “Oh, I’ve got plans,” she said, and walked away, feeling his eyes on her back the whole way to the break room.
Once inside, she pulled out her phone and dialed. “Hey, Deb,” she said. “You want some company on the Fourth?”
* * *
Castle dragged himself out of the car, reluctant to leave the air conditioning. Perfect weather for swimming and barbecuing; not so great for business-casual shadowing of cops. Castle’s shirt and light coat were soaked through. Esposito and Ryan had to be feeling the heat, but they looked cool and unaffected. As Castle followed them inside the precinct, he wondered if that was something they’d been taught in detective school, and if they'd let him in on the secret if he bought them slushies.
“Sit tight, Castle, just gotta go talk to the boys upstairs and we’ll be out in a few minutes,” Ryan said.
Castle nodded and sank into the empty chair behind Beckett’s desk. He wondered where she’d gotten to; he hadn’t seen her all morning. Castle pulled at his damp collar and considered going home. The case so far had been simple, uninteresting; nothing had caught his eye or fired his imagination-
A heavy utility belt landed on the desk in front of him with a thunk. “You’re in my seat again, Castle.”
He spun and rose, about to retort something about her playing hooky, but suddenly found it difficult to breathe.
Kate Beckett was wearing an annoyed look, sensible boots, and full police blues.
The look didn’t bother him so much; it was directed at him multiple times a day and he was inured to it. The boots were somewhat intriguing. She wasn’t as tall in them but she looked even more capable of kicking his ass.
The uniform, though...
“You look like you’ve never seen a cop before.” She pulled the gun from the belt holster and checked it thoroughly, then reseated it and eyed him. “I wasn’t always a detective, Castle.”
“Did you get fired?” he sputtered.
She laughed. “No. I volunteered to walk a beat for the day.”
“Volun...teered?”
There was movement behind him. Another cop joined Beckett. She was a head shorter and about fifteen years older, stocky and dark-haired. She jerked her chin at Castle.
“This Writer-Boy?”
“Yeah,” Beckett answered. “Deb, this is Rick Castle. Castle, Officer O’Donnell, 20th Precinct.”
O’Donnell’s handshake was firm and dry. “So you’re the detective’s volunteer engagement. Delighted to meet you,” Castle said. He was smiling, but he already knew this wasn’t the kind of woman he could charm.
She gave him a slow once-over and apparently decided he didn’t need to be handcuffed or shot on sight. “Katie’s been working Fourths down by the river with me for the last six, seven years. My last one, since I’m taking early retirement in May.” O’Donnell looked over Beckett. “Should be fun. We always manage to get into some sort of trouble, don’t we?”
Beckett’s lips quirked. “You do have a knack for that.”
O’Donnell shrugged carelessly. “Eh, it’s the Irish side of me. I’m a magnet for trouble.” She glanced at Castle again, as if to say, I bet you are too, playboy. “Dunno about you, but this magnet needs some coffee if she’s gonna last all evening.”
Castle perched on the edge of Beckett’s desk and watched the veteran cop walk away. “How long have you known her?” he asked, fascinated.
“Most of my career,” Beckett said, buckling the belt on. “I learned a lot about how to be a good cop from Deb. She’s never been interested in becoming a detective herself, but she encouraged me. So I took her out for lunch today, and we came back here to change before our shift.”
“And you’ve worked every Fourth of July with her since you joined the force?” He watched her closely, saw the way her mouth thinned a little and how she busied her hands with her belt. But she answered him.
“Pretty much. After Mom died, we didn’t feel like going to the family picnic. Once I became a cop, it was just easier to say I was working.”
“Have you thought about going back?” he asked quietly.
She looked up at him for a moment, and he thought that maybe she had once or twice, until she found the lack of her mother’s laugh and home-made potato salad too overwhelming. Maybe the next year she’d busied herself with work, pacing every inch of the West Side Highway with laconic O’Donnell, breaking up fights and helping children who’d gotten separated from their parents in that giant block party. He imagined that at the end of the day every year she would collapse on the couch in the stifling heat of a New York summer and hold a beer to her forehead, staring blankly at the ceiling as fireworks burst again on her retinas.
“No,” she said. “I like working Fourths. Helps me brush up on things I learned when I was a beat cop. Keeps me in touch, you know?”
O’Donnell was back. “Katie, gonna go start the car, get the A/C going.”
“Okay. Be there in a sec.”
Beckett turned to Castle. “You still going to the fireworks on the Hudson?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Then maybe I’ll see you there,” she said. She sounded like she wouldn’t mind, exactly, and in fact was half-expecting to run into him.
“Count on it.” He smirked a little, as was his role. She had that look on her face again. No doubt she suspected him of plotting to get her to take him away in handcuffs. Hell, maybe he should; if he could make her laugh, it’d be worth it.
She cut such a striking figure in her blues. He whistled under his breath as she left, sure she couldn’t hear him.
“Put a sock in it, Castle.”
He grinned. “I just love a woman in uniform.”