Disclaimer: I don't own Castle. The only profit being made is my own amusement (and hopefully yours).

Story of a Candle

Tom Demming isn't technically a liar. His lieutenant really does want reports in by the end of shift.

He just neglected to tell Beckett that he already finished them all.

Yesterday.

The original plan was to take her to this nice Italian restaurant, with flowers and candles and a live piano player. But after careful consideration, he figured that Kate Beckett wasn't the type of girl to fall for someone over champagne and caviar. In fact, grand romantic displays would probably make him look like he was trying too hard, and possibly scare her off. No, Kate Beckett was the kind of person who would be more comfortable with hot dogs and ice cream in the park, burgers and shakes at Remy's, takeout containers in the break room.

So he cancels the dinner reservations and makes up an excuse for why they need to stay at the precinct. And based on the way her face lit up that time Castle brought spring rolls and crispy wontons for her team, he already knows what her answer will be when he asks her, "How do you feel about Chinese?"

"It's my favorite," she tells him with a smile.

Perfect.

Mrs. Hung apparently has his number on caller ID, because she greets him with a cheery "Detective Demming!" before he gets a chance to introduce himself.

They go through the usual pleasantries, and eventually she asks, "So, what will be your order today? The usual? Beef broccoli, shrimp with walnuts, chow fun, and almond cookies?"

He laughs. "I'm too predictable, I guess. But this time, can you double the order?"

This request piques Mrs. Hung's curiosity at once. "Oh!" she exclaims, sounding delighted. "A girl?"

He suppresses a groan. The woman is almost as meddling as his mother, who last Christmas sent him a recipe book called Fifty Ways to Impress a Date, with ridiculous dish names including Lovers' Lasagna and Romantic Ribs. He'd like to tell Mrs. Hung to just stay out of his business already, but he really really needs amazing Chinese food and an excuse to tell the story about finding the medallion, so he puts on his best polite voice and tells her, "Yes, I'm having dinner with a wonderful lady."

"Good, good," cackles Mrs. Hung. "I'll have my son deliver them to your apartment in fifteen minutes."

"Actually," Demming says, "can you have them delivered to the precinct?"

"You're taking your girl to your office?" Mrs. Hung demands, as if he's breaking some unspeakable rule.

"No, no. She works here too. She's a detective in Homicide." A very good one.

"Ohhh," Mrs. Hung says thoughtfully. "A police girl. Very respectable and hard-working. The perfect kind of a wife."

Oh, geez. She's worse than his mother.

He comes upstairs, armed with the plastic bag full of white paper cartons. He sets the bag down and starts unloading the contents onto the break room table.

"What's that?" Beckett demands suddenly.

That's when he realizes it's not a carton but a candle that he's holding in his hand. A candle. So much for avoiding overtly romantic gestures.

Oh, crap.

He tries to play it as cool as possible. "A candle," he says, gesturing grandly to it. "Included with every purchase, so in case of a blackout, you can still see your food."

She raises her eyebrows. "Do you remember the blackout we had last month?"

"Nope. Just got here, remember?"

"Hmm, well," she begins. "We were here pretty late just finishing up paperwork when everything suddenly went out. Captain Montgomery let us go home."

"Lucky you."

"Yeah," she says, grinning. "But that wasn't the best part. You should've heard Esposito's girly scream when Castle grabbed his leg in the dark. Your old buddy's not as tough as he pretends to be."

"I guess we'll save this, then," he says, setting the candle down and tapping its side, "so that Esposito can keep his reputation. And so that you can do your paperwork the next time there's a blackout."

"Oh, no," Beckett shoots back, with a look of mock horror. "Let's use it up, or I won't have an excuse to leave the next time there's blackout."

"Glad to be of service," Demming replies. "I'm always here to uphold the three D's of the NYPD. Duty, dedication, and dilly-dallying." He takes the matchbook taped to the candle (obviously, Mrs. Hung has thought of everything), and lights it.

She's smiling at him now, that same bright-eyed smile she had when she told him the story of Castle and the booby-trapped cappuccino machine, and in that moment he decides he has a pretty good shot with getting somewhere with her.

He makes a mental note to make Mrs. Hung some Cupid's Casserole over the weekend.

FIN.