I appear to have ficced for Castle.
Aug. 22nd, 2011 03:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cassievalentineI know, I'm shocked too!!
Title Acceptance
Author Me
Fandom Castle
Paring Beckett/Castle
Rating G
Author's Note Here
Summary He had noted the change in her wardrobe early on, the change from form hugging jeans and shirts that showed a tantalizing sliver of skin when she reached up to looser jeans and shirts that fell low on her hips. When she knew someone was watching, she made an effort to hold the hem of her shirts down when reaching for something above her head.
“Kate…” he trailed off as she once again moved smoothly away from his hands.
“It’s just… I’m not… ” she trailed off as she looked away from him, dropping her eyes to her hands that were currently playing with the hem of her shirt. She had changed since the shooting. Most people didn’t notice since she was still the bad ass cop when on duty, but outside of the precinct, when the responsible clothes were shed she was cautious. She did her best to hide that fact and while she fooled most of the people around her, she was having little to no luck fooling one Richard Castle.
He had noted the change in her wardrobe early on, the change from form hugging jeans and shirts that showed a tantalizing sliver of skin when she reached up to looser jeans and shirts that fell low on her hips. When she knew someone was watching, she made an effort to hold the hem of her shirts down when reaching for something above her head.
He had written it off at first and not thought much off it. Castle figured she was still sore and slightly swollen from the surgery but it had been months since then and she had yet to stop being so cautious.
“You’re not what?” he asked quietly as he turned to face her on the couch. He knew that something was eating at her, but she kept refusing to tell him.
“I’m not ready,” she finally told him. He sat back a little and looked at her, trying to puzzle out what, exactly, she wasn’t ready for. The two of them had been toying with whatever it was they were to each other for a while. They were definitely more than friends now if the marathon make out sessions on the couch were anything to go by, but every time he even accidentally brushed against her shirt and it began to crawl higher, she tensed. She would tense and make him stop as she pulled herself out of his reach and adjusted her shirt, pulling it firmly into place again, covering the small bit of skin he had finally uncovered.
“Not ready for what?” he asked her again as she shifted so that he was slightly closer to her again. “I have no issues waiting or avoiding something, but I need to know why I’m waiting, what I’m avoiding,” Castle pleaded with her. She continued to focus on her hands, her long hair falling like a curtain and blocking her face from his view. “Come on Kate, you’ve got to talk to me about this,” he tried again, gently tucking the hair behind her ear before reaching out to take her hands in his, stilling them.
Kate Beckett stared at her hands, held loosely in Castle’s for a long moment. They had danced around each other for years and now that they were finally here, or at least headed in that direction, she was holding back. She knew exactly what the problem was, but knowing and voicing it were two different things.
“No comments,” she said after a very long moment, finally tilting her head up to look at him. He nodded and assured her he would hold his tongue and she knew he meant it, if only because of the tone in his voice. She sat for a moment longer, studying his face before she swallowed hard and slipped her hands from his as she stood up. With a heavy sigh and hesitant hands, she raised the hem of her shirt so that the surgery scar and the bullet scar were visible.
As his eyes dropped from her face to the scars, she turned her head and fixed her gaze on the opposite wall and waited. He was Richard Castle after all, there was no way he’d be able to keep his mouth shut about this.
Castle studied the blemishes closely. He had seen them in the hospital a few times, all raised and angry red, the edges of the larger scar held together with surgical staples while the smaller was closed with black stitches. They were smooth now, the staples and stitches long gone, and a soft pink colour. The surgeon had done excellent work, especially with the jagged bullet hole. He had taken the time to trim the ragged skin so that he could close with smooth edges leaving a neater looking scar.
With a gentle touch, he ran a finger gently over the longer of the scars, where she had been opened up so they could close her up. He felt the muscles in her abdomen jump and tense at his touch but he didn’t stray. When he was done, he moved the hand to trace the shorter scar in the same way before covering it completely with his finger. His gaze finally left the marked skin and shift to her face, trying to judge her reactions.
He felt his heart clench when he saw her swallow hard and set her jaw as she tried not to cry. Her eyes were still fixed on some point across the room, she didn’t dare look down at him.
She was afraid of what she’d see on his face.
Kate had yet to really accept her ‘war wounds’ as Esposito called them and she didn’t really expect anyone else to either.
He gently pulled his hands away from her skin, holding back a regretful sigh before he stood and loosened her grip on her shirt. He pulled it back into place gently before bringing a hand up to gently pull her face towards him.
“You are still beautiful to me,” he told her quietly. “Nothing will ever change that,” he assured her as he brought his hand back down to rest over the scars. “If you want to wait, we’ll wait,” he assured her.
She swallowed hard again, blinking back her own tears before letting her hand find the one on her abdomen.
“I’m not ready,” she told him quietly and he finally understood. It wasn’t that she wasn’t ready to be with him, it was that she wasn’t ready to accept the marks that had been left on her yet.
“You’re not ready,” he repeated as he shifted and pulled her close. She accepted his embrace easily, fitting herself snugly against him as he held her tight and began to sway gently.
**
After he had left and before she had climbed into the shower that night, she had paused in front of the mirror in the bathroom. After a moment of hesitation, she stripped and made herself study what she saw for a long moment before she slipped under the spray, the ghost of a smile on her lips.
Title Acceptance
Author Me
Fandom Castle
Paring Beckett/Castle
Rating G
Author's Note Here
Summary He had noted the change in her wardrobe early on, the change from form hugging jeans and shirts that showed a tantalizing sliver of skin when she reached up to looser jeans and shirts that fell low on her hips. When she knew someone was watching, she made an effort to hold the hem of her shirts down when reaching for something above her head.
“Kate…” he trailed off as she once again moved smoothly away from his hands.
“It’s just… I’m not… ” she trailed off as she looked away from him, dropping her eyes to her hands that were currently playing with the hem of her shirt. She had changed since the shooting. Most people didn’t notice since she was still the bad ass cop when on duty, but outside of the precinct, when the responsible clothes were shed she was cautious. She did her best to hide that fact and while she fooled most of the people around her, she was having little to no luck fooling one Richard Castle.
He had noted the change in her wardrobe early on, the change from form hugging jeans and shirts that showed a tantalizing sliver of skin when she reached up to looser jeans and shirts that fell low on her hips. When she knew someone was watching, she made an effort to hold the hem of her shirts down when reaching for something above her head.
He had written it off at first and not thought much off it. Castle figured she was still sore and slightly swollen from the surgery but it had been months since then and she had yet to stop being so cautious.
“You’re not what?” he asked quietly as he turned to face her on the couch. He knew that something was eating at her, but she kept refusing to tell him.
“I’m not ready,” she finally told him. He sat back a little and looked at her, trying to puzzle out what, exactly, she wasn’t ready for. The two of them had been toying with whatever it was they were to each other for a while. They were definitely more than friends now if the marathon make out sessions on the couch were anything to go by, but every time he even accidentally brushed against her shirt and it began to crawl higher, she tensed. She would tense and make him stop as she pulled herself out of his reach and adjusted her shirt, pulling it firmly into place again, covering the small bit of skin he had finally uncovered.
“Not ready for what?” he asked her again as she shifted so that he was slightly closer to her again. “I have no issues waiting or avoiding something, but I need to know why I’m waiting, what I’m avoiding,” Castle pleaded with her. She continued to focus on her hands, her long hair falling like a curtain and blocking her face from his view. “Come on Kate, you’ve got to talk to me about this,” he tried again, gently tucking the hair behind her ear before reaching out to take her hands in his, stilling them.
Kate Beckett stared at her hands, held loosely in Castle’s for a long moment. They had danced around each other for years and now that they were finally here, or at least headed in that direction, she was holding back. She knew exactly what the problem was, but knowing and voicing it were two different things.
“No comments,” she said after a very long moment, finally tilting her head up to look at him. He nodded and assured her he would hold his tongue and she knew he meant it, if only because of the tone in his voice. She sat for a moment longer, studying his face before she swallowed hard and slipped her hands from his as she stood up. With a heavy sigh and hesitant hands, she raised the hem of her shirt so that the surgery scar and the bullet scar were visible.
As his eyes dropped from her face to the scars, she turned her head and fixed her gaze on the opposite wall and waited. He was Richard Castle after all, there was no way he’d be able to keep his mouth shut about this.
Castle studied the blemishes closely. He had seen them in the hospital a few times, all raised and angry red, the edges of the larger scar held together with surgical staples while the smaller was closed with black stitches. They were smooth now, the staples and stitches long gone, and a soft pink colour. The surgeon had done excellent work, especially with the jagged bullet hole. He had taken the time to trim the ragged skin so that he could close with smooth edges leaving a neater looking scar.
With a gentle touch, he ran a finger gently over the longer of the scars, where she had been opened up so they could close her up. He felt the muscles in her abdomen jump and tense at his touch but he didn’t stray. When he was done, he moved the hand to trace the shorter scar in the same way before covering it completely with his finger. His gaze finally left the marked skin and shift to her face, trying to judge her reactions.
He felt his heart clench when he saw her swallow hard and set her jaw as she tried not to cry. Her eyes were still fixed on some point across the room, she didn’t dare look down at him.
She was afraid of what she’d see on his face.
Kate had yet to really accept her ‘war wounds’ as Esposito called them and she didn’t really expect anyone else to either.
He gently pulled his hands away from her skin, holding back a regretful sigh before he stood and loosened her grip on her shirt. He pulled it back into place gently before bringing a hand up to gently pull her face towards him.
“You are still beautiful to me,” he told her quietly. “Nothing will ever change that,” he assured her as he brought his hand back down to rest over the scars. “If you want to wait, we’ll wait,” he assured her.
She swallowed hard again, blinking back her own tears before letting her hand find the one on her abdomen.
“I’m not ready,” she told him quietly and he finally understood. It wasn’t that she wasn’t ready to be with him, it was that she wasn’t ready to accept the marks that had been left on her yet.
“You’re not ready,” he repeated as he shifted and pulled her close. She accepted his embrace easily, fitting herself snugly against him as he held her tight and began to sway gently.
**
After he had left and before she had climbed into the shower that night, she had paused in front of the mirror in the bathroom. After a moment of hesitation, she stripped and made herself study what she saw for a long moment before she slipped under the spray, the ghost of a smile on her lips.
