[Castle] Ch: 31 [Vintage Charm, New Case & Complicated Feelings] (Patreon)

[Three days later]

[The Old Haunt]

Night settled over The Old Haunt with rain tapping against the front windows and neon light spilling across the wet sidewalk outside. The bar looked better than it had a few weeks ago, though better was doing a lot of generous work. Half the wall near the pool table had fresh paint, the counter had been polished until the old wood showed some pride again, and the jukebox finally played music without sounding like it was begging for mercy.

Still, the place had its usual crowd.

Off-duty cops filled two booths near the back. A couple of lawyers sat near the corner pretending they were here for the atmosphere instead of cheap whiskey. Ryan and Esposito had taken over one end of the counter, drinking beers while watching Castle stare across the room like a man witnessing history betray him personally.

The source of his suffering occupied a booth near the windows.

Kate and Travis were sitting at a booth near the window.

They were laughing.

That was the problem.

Castle had noticed it five minutes after walking in, which was about four minutes longer than he usually needed to notice anything involving Beckett. 

A few months ago, Beckett would have spent half the evening correcting Castle's theories or threatening bodily harm whenever he annoyed her. Now she sat across from Travis, looking relaxed and comfortable. Every now and then she laughed at something he said, and Travis would answer with that annoyingly confident smile of his.

Castle slowly lowered his glass and narrowed his eyes. He didn't like how much he noticed that smile.

Ryan noticed first.

Esposito noticed Ryan noticing.

Then both detectives exchanged the same look.

Castle was doomed.

Castle slid onto the stool beside them without taking his eyes off the booth. “Gentlemen,” he said, trying very hard to sound casual and failing with impressive commitment, “I have a question.”

Ryan took one look at his face and immediately sat up straighter, already enjoying himself. “This is about Beckett and Travis, isn’t it?”

Castle whipped his head toward him. “What? No. Why would this be about Beckett and Travis? I didn’t even say Beckett and Travis. You said Beckett and Travis, which frankly says more about your mind than mine.”

Esposito lifted his beer and took a slow sip. “Bro, you’ve been staring at them like Travis stole your first edition manuscript.”

Castle scoffed and adjusted his jacket. “I'm a writer, so observation falls under my profession. That is how art happens.”

Ryan leaned closer with fake concern. “You’ve been observing for too long. At some point, that stops being observation.”

Castle pointed at him sharply. “What are you, a prosecutor?"

Esposito glanced toward the booth again. Kate was listening to Travis with a faint smile, her fingers resting around her glass. Travis leaned back as he spoke, comfortable enough to look like he belonged there. Espo let out a thoughtful hum, slow enough to be cruel.

“They do look pretty comfortable together.”

Castle went still. “Comfortable how?”

Ryan exchanged a quick glance with Esposito. Both men made the same silent decision at exactly the same time.

Ryan shrugged like he was trying to be fair. “I mean, I saw them leave the precinct together yesterday. They went to a bar alone. Who knows what happened last night?”

Castle’s mouth opened a little. “A bar?”

Esposito nodded with grave seriousness. “A bar, drinks, late-night conversation, post-case adrenaline, rain outside and low lighting. That is a classic setup.”

Castle turned toward him slowly. “Why did you say that like the opening scene of a romance novel?”

“Because I know my audience,” Esposito replied.

Castle looked back at the booth. Kate lifted her glass while saying something, and Travis answered with a small smile of his own. They did not lean into anything dramatic. They simply looked easy together, and somehow that made the whole thing worse.

Castle’s eyes narrowed.

Ryan followed his gaze and made a sympathetic sound that did not sound sympathetic at all. “That looks serious.”

Castle glanced at him. “What looks serious?”

“The talking.”

“The talking?” Castle repeated.

Ryan nodded. “That comfortable, low-voice, late-night detective talking.”

Esposito added, “The kind that happens when two people understand the same dark stuff.”

Castle stared at him. “You two are enjoying this.”

“A little,” Espo admitted.

Ryan held up two fingers close together. “A responsible amount.”

Castle dragged a hand down his face. “This is ridiculous. Beckett and I have history.”

Ryan blinked innocently. “History?”

“Yes, history.”

Esposito nodded like he was trying very hard to follow. “What kind of history?”

Castle gestured vaguely with both hands. “Banter, chemistry, danger, partnership and meaningful looks beside corpses.”

Ryan looked toward Kate and Travis again. “They have those too.”

Castle stiffened. “They do?”

Espo nodded. “Plus sparring.”

Castle stared at him. “Sparring?”

Ryan looked far too pleased. “Three times a week from what I heard.”

Castle’s expression shifted from jealousy to horror. “Three times a week? Beckett and Travis are rolling around on mats three times a week?”

Esposito lifted one shoulder. “Training is important.”

Castle leaned back like someone had just told him the moon had filed for divorce. “I thought she jogged. I can compete with jogging. I own sneakers.”

Ryan looked down at Castle’s polished shoes.

Castle followed his gaze and immediately corrected himself. “I own stylish sneakers.”

Espo leaned against the counter with the calm confidence of a man about to commit conversational murder. “Look, Castle, you’re a great guy. Funny, rich, creative, famous.”

Castle slowly nodded, clearly waiting for the compliment to continue.

Esposito continued with a straight face. “But Travis is a fine detective. Beckett and Travis share the badge, the job, the danger, the stubbornness, and the whole intense crime-solving thing. You've any idea how many cases he solved so far? We even got a budget increase thanks to him.”

Ryan nodded along. “And he’s good-looking.”

Castle’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m good-looking.”

“Sure,” Espo said. “In a mature way.”

Castle blinked. “Mature?”

Ryan looked at him with fake hesitation. “Distinguished.”

Castle leaned forward. “Why did you say distinguished like I need a walking stick?”

Espo made a pained face, as if he were trying to be gentle. “And Travis is younger.”

Castle stared at him.

Ryan added quietly, “Very athletic too.”

Castle turned to him next. “I am athletic. I fence. Occasionally.”

“Against your daughter,” Espo said.

“Daughter with swords,” Castle replied.

Ryan tilted his head. “Plastic swords?"

Castle lifted one finger, then lowered it again because the argument had died before reaching court.

Espo glanced at Castle’s forehead and squinted. “You know, I think the stress is starting to show.”

Castle went very still. “What stress?”

Ryan leaned in, pretending to inspect his face. “Around the eyes.”

Castle touched the corner of one eye immediately. “Around the eyes?”

Esposito nodded slowly, his expression solemn. “Wrinkles.”

Castle stared at him as if Espo had just announced the end of civilization. Because he is a wealthy, high-maintenance celebrity author, Castle is unapologetically vain and highly invested in maintaining what he frequently calls his "ruggedly handsome" looks. He often participates in luxury skincare and facial treatments. So, he nearly had a mini stroke when Espo said 'Wrinkles'.

“Wrinkles?” he repeated, far too loudly.

Several people near the bar turned their heads.

Kate looked over from the booth, brows lifting slightly. Travis looked amused already, like he had heard exactly enough to know Castle was suffering and wanted the rest of the show.

Castle lowered his voice while pointing between Ryan and Esposito. “I don't have wrinkles. I take facial treatments every week. So, it's impossible.”

Ryan patted Castle’s shoulder with the kind of sympathy that only made things worse. “Sure. But don't worry, Castle. You still have charm.”

Castle looked wounded. “Still?”

Esposito nodded. “Yeah, like vintage charm.”

Castle stared at Esposito like he had personally betrayed literature, friendship, and the very concept of good lighting.

“Vintage charm?” He repeated, his voice dropping into something dangerously calm. “That is what antique furniture has when people are trying to justify keeping it after the legs start wobbling.”

Ryan pressed his lips together, clearly fighting a laugh. “Nobody said your legs were wobbling.”

“You implied it,” Castle said, pointing at him. “There was implication in your tone.”

Esposito took another sip of beer, looking far too relaxed for a man who had just started a psychological fire. “Relax, bro. Vintage is classy.”

Castle looked between them, then toward the booth again before turning away.

Ryan leaned closer. “You okay there?”

Castle snapped his attention back to them and straightened on the stool. “Why wouldn't I be? It’s not like Beckett, and I have a thing going on or anything. She can date whoever she wants. I was just curious since I haven't seen Beckett date anyone.”

Esposito gave a slow nod. “Sure.”

Castle narrowed his eyes. “That sure had layers.”

“It was a very simple sure,” Espo replied, raising both hands slightly. 

Ryan nodded with mock seriousness. 

Castle looked offended by both of them. “You two are terrible friends.”

“We’re coworkers,” Ryan corrected.

“That makes it worse,” Castle said as he slid off the stool and adjusted his jacket with as much dignity as a wounded man could gather in public. “I am leaving before this room damages my self-esteem any further.”

Esposito lifted his beer. “Night, Castle.”

Ryan gave him a cheerful little wave. “Moisturize when you get home.”

Castle froze halfway through turning around.

He slowly looked back at Ryan.

Ryan kept his face innocent.

Castle pointed at him once, like he was filing the comment away for future revenge, then turned and headed for the door. As he passed the booth, Kate glanced up at him.

“Leaving already?” she asked.

Castle smiled too brightly. “Places to be, pages to write, youthful glow to preserve. Important evening.”

Travis looked up from his drink with mild interest. “Youthful glow?”

Castle gave him a tight smile. “Enjoy your bar, Wilson.”

“I do,” Travis replied easily.

Castle’s smile strained by one more degree before he walked out into the rain. The door closed behind him, and silence lasted for barely two seconds before Ryan and Esposito both started laughing at the counter.

Kate watched the door for a moment, then turned back toward Travis. “What was that about?”

Travis glanced at Ryan and Espo, then back at her with a small grin. “No idea. Probably writer stuff. Or, those two must've lit a fire under him, and now, he's having some existential crisis.”

Across the room, Esposito leaned toward Ryan and muttered, “He’s absolutely buying face cream tonight.”

Ryan nodded with certainty. “Expensive face cream.”

...

[Next Morning] [Castle's Penthouse]

Castle walked into the kitchen area wearing a navy silk robe over pajama pants, and a thick layer of pale green cream spread across his face from forehead to chin. Only his eyes, lips, and nostrils had been spared. The result made him look less like a bestselling author and more like an expensive swamp creature with excellent posture.

Alexis sat at the table with a bowl of cereal and a textbook open beside her. She looked up, blinked once, then slowly lowered her spoon.

Martha, sitting near the kitchen counter with coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other, glanced over the rim of her glasses. She took in the robe, the cream, the careful way he held his face still, and immediately smiled with the kind of delight only a mother could feel when presented with fresh ammunition.

“Oh, darling,” Martha said warmly, “did the spa finally start offering treatments for wounded ego?”

Castle stopped mid-step and gave her a wounded look, though the mask made it difficult to tell whether he was offended or simply afraid to move his eyebrows. “This,” he said with great dignity, “is a restorative mineral detoxifying mask imported from Switzerland.”

Alexis tilted her head, studying him with academic seriousness. “Are you sure it’s not guacamole?”

Castle pointed at her carefully. “Mockery ages the soul, Alexis. Remember that.”

She looked down at her cereal, then back at him. “So does stress, apparently.”

Martha made a soft sound into her coffee that was definitely not a cough.

Castle narrowed his eyes at both of them before crossing to the coffee machine. He poured himself a cup with the solemn focus of a man trying to survive emotional betrayal before nine in the morning. “You two laugh now,” he said, lifting the mug. “But one day, when I still possess the luminous skin of a man ten years younger than his driver’s license, you’ll understand.”

Alexis quickly flipped through the pages of her textbook like she had suddenly remembered something important. A moment later, she pulled out a folded sheet of paper tucked between two chapters and held it up in front of him.

Castle's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And what might this be?”

Alexis smiled in a way that immediately made him more suspicious. “School trip. I need your signature.”

Martha lowered her newspaper just enough to watch properly. “Ah, the ancient parental ambush. I do love breakfast theatre.”

Castle put down his coffee and took the paper from Alexis, unsure about it, as if she had given him a secret file instead of a permission slip. He opened it. “A school trip,” he said again. “Those words sound innocent and educational when said quickly.” He looked at the paper. “And where is this trip going?”

Alexis was about to answer, but before she could get the first word out, Castle’s phone rang on the counter.

The change in him was instant.

He looked at the screen, saw Beckett’s name, and all traces of wounded vanity disappeared. Even the ridiculous green mask could not ruin the way his whole face brightened. He grabbed the phone so fast that Alexis leaned back slightly to avoid the sleeve of his robe.

“Beckett,” he answered, far too eagerly for a man pretending he had not spent the previous night spiraling over wrinkles.

Alexis and Martha exchanged one look.

Castle turned slightly away from them, already walking toward the living room as if privacy would somehow make him sound less excited. He was still holding the form in his left hand. “Yes. I’m awake. Of course I’m awake. Writers are famously early risers when summoned by homicide.” He paused, listening, and his expression shifted from theatrical cheer into focused interest. “A body where?”

Martha lifted both eyebrows.

Castle held up one finger toward them, even though neither of them had spoken. He listened for a few more seconds, then straightened. “Yes, I can be there in twenty minutes.”

Alexis watched him glance down at his robe, pajama pants, and bare feet.

“Thirty,” he corrected quickly.

He cut the call and held the form in the air. "I'll read this properly before signing." Then, he rushed to his room.

...

[Meanwhile...] [Construction Site 12th Ashford Street]

The forensic team was already on the site. Yellow tape covered a big chunk of that construction site. Reporters were swarming outside the police barrier as usual. The uniforms were on standby.

Kate and Travis arrived at the scene first. They walked over to Lanie, who was standing before a female head and writing the details in her notebook. 

"So, what have we got?" Kate asked.

Lanie turned around and replied, "We've found four heads, and their bodies are missing."

Her eyes went toward Travis, and the memories of their time together flashed before her eyes. He cared for her and wanted to move beyond their casual hookup, which Lanie referred to as "booty calls." But she loved what they had: casual dates and lots of sex. She loved his stamina and the way he ate her and made her squirt almost every night. Well, Travis tried to have that relationship talk once more, but she said no. So, they eventually stopped seeing each other outside the job. 

Now, things have changed in the last few months. Lanie started to notice that Travis and Kate were spending quality time together. They flirt and tease each other, and somehow that made her uncomfortable... maybe a little jealous. She couldn't point out why she was feeling this way because she rejected him twice. She told herself she doesn't want anything serious, yet watching those two flirt and laugh every day... Lanie was having second thoughts.  

"Any ID?" Travis asked in a professional tone. 

Since they stopped seeing each other, Travis no longer looks at her the way he used to. Before, his gaze made her heart race, but now he is all professional. She hated it. She loved the way he used to look at her.

'Haaa... I messed up big time,' Lanie thought as she pushed her personal thoughts and feelings back into her head and decided to focus on the task at hand.