Minor Charges

Meeting AU, Pre-series, Caskett, K+ Rated

Summary: Rebel Becks meets Richard Castle in a holding cell one night.

He's been in here long enough for his buzz to wear off, leaving a heavy, harsh thud between his eyes and a churning in his stomach. Great, he's on his way to a hangover already.

He's already pushed his luck asking for clothes (since someone stole his while he was on the horse), but maybe he can get the officer on duty to bring him an aspirin and a bottle of water when he comes back. The guy had seemed a little too surly to be willing to do any favors for the drunk tank dwellers, but maybe the promise of an autographed copy of his brand new novel will help his chances. He'll offer. Mother always said it never hurts to try. Of course, Mother also couldn't be bothered to come bail him out tonight, citing it as a 'character building' experience. It's probably for the best, though, he doesn't want Alexis being brought to the police station to get him out of jail.

A sharp clang resonates through the nearly empty holding cell (and his head), but he manages to sit up a little more.

"Hey, officer, not to be a pain in the butt, but do you think I can get something for my head?" he doesn't wait for Roney – was his name Roney? – to even come into view before he asks.

"Sobering up already? That's a bitch."

"Yeah it is. Think you can help me out?"

"Yeah yeah, I'll find something as long as you don't puke. 'Cause I'm not bringing a mop in to clean it up."

Relieved, his head drops back. "No spewing here, Roney, scout's honor."

Roney snorts. "Yeah, and I have some beachfront property in Albuquerque to sell ya. Just gimme a minute; let me get this one next door."

"Next door?"

"Can't put her in with you, pal. And even if I could, with my luck you'd join forces and stage a jailbreak."

Rick laughs. "Aw, come on, Roney, you're not that bad. And maybe we can have a sing-a-long."

He hears Roney snort again. "I think she's gonna pass, buddy."

Well, now he's curious. Who wouldn't want to have a sing-a-long while in the drunk tank?

Whatever he'd been expecting, the girl Roney leads in isn't it. Not by a long shot.

Oh, she's…

Hot.

Gorgeous even. Long brown hair cascading down the back of an expensive leather jacket, ripped jeans that somehow still manage to hug her legs despite the fact that they're probably 80% holes. Her Doc Martens thud against the concrete floor, the rhythm lazy, as she passes him.

There's a flicker of recognition in her eyes, but it's hidden away just as suddenly behind a scowl the size of the holding room.

Intriguing.

Roney motions for her to sit, giving the grating between his "cell" and hers a pointed look. Oh, that's what he'd meant about not putting her with him. Gotcha.

As soon as the cuffs are off, the girl rubs her wrists thoughtfully. She doesn't complain, so Roney just nods.

"Alright. Painkillers and water for the equestrian over there, get you anything?"

Rick sees the girl's eyebrow jump in question, but she doesn't take the bait. Instead she rubs her forehead, hiding her face from him. "Make it a double, maybe?"

"You get the same deal he does, no puking in holding."

She snorts derisively. "Yeah, fine."

Her head drops back as soon as Roney's gone, eyes shuttering closed. He hears her grumbling – names, adjectives, and curse words mostly – and wonders who she's blaming for putting her in that spot.

Twisting on the bench, Rick hooks a finger in the grating. "So what're you in for?"

"Really? The best you can do is 'what're you in for?'" she drawls, turning an unimpressed face to his. Yeah, she definitely knows who he is. She might even be a fan.

"Hard liquor hangovers kind of stifle my creativity," he explains nonchalantly. "Also, riding a horse is a lot trickier than it looks and I'm tired."

Hazel eyes meet his (and wow, are they gorgeous) and he can tell she's at least moderately sober; her gaze is clear.

"So what? You got a RWI? Riding While Intoxicated?"

Snickering, he lifts a shoulder. "Something like that. You?"

She flexes her hands. "Something like that."

"Lies," he challenges. "You're sober. More sober than I am."

"Not hard to do. If someone lit a match this place would go up."

Ew, gross. Is he really that bad? Cupping his hand over his mouth, he sniffs his breath.

"You reek of scotch," she adds helpfully. "If you were a cartoon, there would be little stink lines coming off your skin."

"Gee, thanks."

That gets her lips to lift a little bit. She's a little mean, but he could be into that.

He wiggles his eyebrows in return, trying and failing to hide his wince. Damn, he needs that water. Of course, that makes her smile broaden.

Roney returns with two paper cups and four aspirin, godsend that he is. They stand in unison – one of them a bit more wobbly than the other – and meet him at their respective cell doors.

"Room service, excellent," Rick jokes, seeing the girl roll her eyes in his peripheral vision.

"Think that means you gotta tip me, pal."

"I would, but I left my wallet with my clothes and those got swiped." He tries for pointed, but mostly manages put out.

The other man laughs. "Nah, they found your stuff. They were just messin' with ya. Your fortune is safe."

"Dude, not cool. I'm wearing someone else's pants. Is that even sanitary?"

Beside him, the girl actually laughs. It's a light, gentle sound, completely incongruous with the tough act she's been putting on since Roney led her inside. He likes it, he really does.

"Oh, ew," she murmurs, wrinkling her nose before downing the painkiller and the water like a shot.

Ugh, shots. No more shots.

Roney refills their cups with lukewarm bottled water before he warns them both again about puking, probably thanks to him; he feels like he looks a little green. Waving the officer off, he slumps back onto the bench.

The girl settles a bit more slowly, tugging her feet onto her bench and facing him. He twists, too, looking her over again.

She's younger than he first thought. Maybe. He's usually pretty good about guessing ages, and underneath the eye makeup and the frown, he sees youth. He doesn't see someone trying to downplay their age (and he's seen more than his fair share of women who do that). Mentally, he subtracts five or so years from his original guess.

"Are you always this creepy?"

Startled, he meets her eyes. "What?"

"You're staring at me. I thought women liked you, but with that staring I don't see how they can."

Oh, he likes her. Younger than he thought or not, he likes her.

"What? You're not overcome by the weight of my stare? Must be losing my touch," he adds playfully, shaking his head at himself.

The girl – it would be nice to know her name so he can stop thinking of her as 'the girl' – rolls her eyes, shaking her head.

"Sorry to say my panties are staying on, Mr. Castle."

"Damn."

She snorts. "Yeah. S'what happens when you try to woo a girl looking like a hobo and a sketchy bar had a baby."

"Can't woo a girl if you don't know her name," he offers lightly, earning another laugh.

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true. I'm sure you've wooed plenty of girls without knowing their names."

Ouch.

"Not as many as you'd think," he mumbles, sipping the water carefully. His eyes leave hers, sweeping around holding instead.

He's a flirt, but he's not a total asshole. All the time.

She sighs. "Kate. That's my name. Kate."

Kate. Kate's a good name for her.

He accepts her peace offering genially, poking his fingers through the grate. "Nice to meet you, Kate. Rick."

The girl – Kate – leans forward, shaking his finger gently. It's a ridiculous move, but he finds himself smiling anyway.

"I know. I've read your books."

He smiles. "Do you like them?"

"Don't hate 'em," she replies, tone neutral. "They're enjoyable enough."

Not a ringing endorsement, but he'll take it. She's not scowling at him anymore, after all.

"Well, thanks."

Kate rolls her eyes again, sitting back silently. He does the same, mirroring her posture. The ache in his head is getting better, but the remnants of said headache are making his eyelids droop heavily. He pictures his daughter's face when sleep begins to claim her, thinking he probably looks similar at this very moment.

"Trespassing."

His eyes open quickly, focusing on Kate with only a little trouble.

"What?"

"You asked what I'm 'in' for. Trespassing." She lifts a shoulder. "Pearl Jam's in town. Got caught picking the lock on the tour bus."

Rick laughs at that, ignoring the way it roils his guts and makes his head throb indignantly. "Seriously?"

The rest of her sour face fades away, only to be replaced with a mischievous grin. "Uh huh. I wanted Eddie's jean jacket. I almost had it, too."

"If it weren't for those meddling kids?" he offers.

"Oh, and their dog," she snickers in return. "Anyway, the band's still trying to decide whether they're going to press charges and my parents decided since I'm a seventeen year old 'deviant' they're going to 'teach me a lesson,' so here I am."

"My mother said the same thing. She's babysitting my daughter," he adds, responding to the quirk of her eyebrow instead of an actual question.

"Cute. So what lessons have you learned so far?"

He leans against the metal separating them. "NYPD's Mounted Police Division? Not really all that fun. So a guy wants to take a little joyride, is that too much to ask?"

Kate laughs into her arm. "Don't you have enough money to buy yourself a pony? You really need to steal one from the police? Although, nice irony."

He grins at her. She's smart, too, on top of being gorgeous. Even if she is young enough to mean his hands will be kept to himself. "Course I do. I could buy you one, too. You want one?"

"I bet you offer ponies to all the girls you end up in holding with," she purrs, resting her chin on her knee.

"Only the ones who use irony correctly."

She laughs, giving him a glimpse of teeth with this smile. He grins again.

"So your parents are teaching you a lesson, huh?"

Kate huffs, sliding her hand through her hair. "Yeah. Lawyer parents are just thebest. My dad was my one phone call and he told me to have fun waiting for arraignment."

"Ouch."

"Yeah," she shakes her head. "Guess who didn't want me going to the concert at all?"

"Hmm, I don't know… what are my options?"

She snorts, sitting back. "So that's my story."

He nods, leaning his head against the cinder block. "You think they're going to leave you in here all night?"

"Oh yeah. I snuck out, too, and 'since I don't want to be at home…'" she mimics what Rick assumes is her father's voice. "So they'll be waiting for me tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, same here.. Only not my parents… I have a buddy, a lawyer friend of my own. He helps me out with this stuff. He'll help you out, too."

"Oh, no. No, that's okay. The band's probably not going to press charges anyway, and if they do, one of my parents will step in. They're not that awful."

"On the house, Kate. We're probably gonna end up in there together anyway, so why not let Bob take care of it. Besides, he's talking about making a run for mayor; it'll give him another win to brag about. It might drive your mom and dad a little bit crazy, too, if you're interested."

Kate side eyes him, clearly considering his proposition.

"I see your point. I'm in." Her finger pokes through the divider, obviously trying to seal the deal with a handshake… sort of.

"Great."

Neither of them sleep for very long. Each time he drifts off, his world rocks and he forces his eyes open. He did promise Roney he wouldn't vomit in the cell. He intends to keep that promise.

Kate's watching him each time he looks at her.

"Just keeping an eye on you, tough guy," she answers his unspoken question, her voice hushed.

He does the same for her in return.

It's bright and early when his friend arrives. Bob hisses a little bit as soon as they see each other. "Ricky, there's looking like hell and then there's you."

"You don't like it?" he asks, stepping clear of his cell before Roney can change his mind about letting him out. A moment later, he sees Kate do the same.

"You smell like the gutter behind a bar."

Beside him, Kate snickers. "Told you, Ricky," she singsongs.

Sticking his tongue out at her quickly, he turns back to his friend. "Bob, this is Kate. She's uh, we're probably both on the docket today… think you can help both of us out? Work your magic?"

Bob looks between them, surveying Kate's concert attire before returning to look him over as well.

"You're both going to need to change clothes."

Her shoulder bumps his as she exhales. "Of course. Thank you, Mr, uh -"

"Weldon, Bob. And don't thank me yet, Miss…"

"Beckett. Kate Beckett."

"Miss Beckett," he smiles quickly, eyeing them again. "Just tell me you two didn't get into trouble together."

Rick feels his eyes widen as Kate's head starts to thrash. "No, no. Totally separate incidents. Completely separate incidents. We didn't… even meet each other until about 1 this morning."

"Good. Now let me make some calls and figure things out. I'll have someone bring you both clothes."

"You are the best, Bob."

"Uh huh, and my mom's getting her character in your next book. No more stalling, Ricky."

He grins. "Absolutely."

Two hours later, Bob has worked his magic and they both – mostly – off the hook. The charges have been dropped with only minor concessions from both of them. The arrest will stay on his record, but Kate's will be wiped in a few months when she turns eighteen. Just before releasing them, the judge warns them both to keep their noses clean from here on out, especially Kate. She agrees readily, though Rick doesn't see her rebellious fire burning out any time soon.

Her parents had been none-too-happy when she refused their help, but a quick glance back shows they both seem more relieved than anything else by the way things worked out. Thank god Alexis is still little; he definitely can't handle his little girl being feisty like Kate just yet.

Shaking his friend's hand, Rick turns to his drunk tank buddy. She's already thanked Bob profusely. "Well, what'd I tell you? Isn't he great?"

Kate exhales. "Yeah he is. And thanks for… doing that for me."

"Of course. I would say anytime, but I'm not sure I can keep naming characters after people he's related to. I've already used his great aunt and his grandmother."

She laughs, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. "Still. I uh, I appreciate it. Besides, last night was kind of fun."

"You have an odd definition of fun, Kate Beckett. I like it." He grins, lifting his eyebrows playfully.

Kate wiggles hers right back, looking gorgeous even through her exhaustion. He hears her mother call for her, voice clipped.

"Oops. Better go. The criminal justice system might've given me a pass, but Beckett Court is now in session."

He laughs, nodding easily.

"Thank you again, Mr. Castle." She holds out her hand.

"Rick," he reminds her, squeezing her hand firmly. Kate squeezes back, tilting her head.

"Katie," her father calls this time.

"You better go."

"Yeah," she agrees, stretching onto her toes to kiss his cheek. "For the record, your books are more than enjoyable," she murmurs against his skin before pulling away and giving him a crooked smile. "See you at community service, Rick."

And then she saunters away to join her parents, stopping only once to wink over her shoulder at him.