Fic: Three's a Crowd (3/? of Scheherazade)
Title: Three's a Crowd (3/? of Scheherazade)
Words: ~2500
Rating: Safe for everyone, unless you have an aversion to the word 'asshole'.
Genre: Angst/Romance
Characters: Castle, Becket, and a little old lady.
Summary: A Caskett tale, told from the POV of a nice, hearing impaired, little old lady.
Three's a crowd
Jeanne had spent the last twenty years running the small diner. It was her baby, inherited from her father, who had inherited it from his father, Marcus Remy himself. Twenty odd years she'd kept the place running and she'd had the pleasure of basking in the success of her diner, busy at all times of the day regardless of the weather or the financial crisis or whatever else the universe seemed to throw at the world.
She took her usual seat, nestled in a corner of her diner - and she watched. People watching was her favourite pastime and at eleven at night, it was the most perfect time of day to just sit back, relax, and give her sixty year old bones a little rest. The dinner rush had long since been over, and only a few customers remained.
She loved this. The hustle and bustle of the kitchen, the smell of food, people, and the general atmosphere that she'd come to associate with home. But most of all, she loved her customers. Her regulars, the not so regular ones, the weird ones, the nice ones - they all lit a small burning flame in her heart and whenever a familiar face strode into Remy's, it never failed to put a smile on her face.
There were two of them in particular who really intrigued her. A man and a woman, regulars for two years now, on and off - mostly take out, but sometimes in the dead of the night, in the hours between dinner and Remy's late closing hours they chose to dine in. Always together (except for brief periods during the summers, she'd find out as the time went by), always bickering, and always looking so damned good doing it.
Maybe they'd show up tonight. It had been a while since she'd last seen them.
The first time they stepped in her cosy diner together, it looked as if they were on the tail end of a date night. Her hair was done up, if only a little messy, he looked elegant in his suit and his perfectly styled hair. She remembered them because they were stunning, really good looking people. She'd noticed them coming in individually before, the woman especially, but since that first time she saw them enter together, the individual visits had whittled down to almost none.
Of course, she wasn't counting the times he would come in by himself to get the food to go, two burgers, two milkshakes, large fries - Jeanne knew they were going to have their meal together anyway, even if he'd come in alone.
When they did dine in, their conversations were usually held in hushed tones, barely making it over the din of the other patrons. Occasionally he'd make a noise, or she'd admonish him rather loudly - it sounded like she called him 'asshole' frequently, almost as though it was his name, though the guy didn't seem to mind at all. She was fairly sure the woman went by the name of 'Kate' but he didn't call her that - not when they were there anyway. Racket - or something similar, was his moniker for her and Jeanne couldn't fathom why he'd call her that, but she had had her fair share of weirdos in her time, so she wasn't going to ponder.
She didn't know who they really were, only that they obviously worked in the city - odd hours, hard jobs, if their usual exhausted faces were anything to go buy. The man tipped well (very well) and the woman always had a smile for her staff. Burgers and shakes, that's how she referred to them in her head, because that's who they were to her. Mostly. Other times they were fries, steak and shakes. Occasionally they had ice cream, usually his idea - or a chocolate cake (her idea), but they always had their milkshakes.
When summer rolled approached, the first one since they first started frequenting her diner, their visits ceased. At first Jeanne thought maybe they'd gone on a vacation - hey, she was old and had nothing else to do with her time, she was allowed to theorise about her customers - but she'd been wrong. Two weeks into the summer, Kate walked in, alone - none of her usual cheerfulness about her.
That day she ordered a single milkshake and one burger. To go.
Jeanne didn't see her again for another three months and she assumed the worst. The pretty couple had parted ways and as the way these things go, her diner now bore too many memories for either one to come back. She remembered feeling sorry, if only because she hadn't managed to get more of a story out of them.
A few months later, she realised she had been mistaken. When fall came around, they were back and Jeanne was once again content to just watch them, enjoying their re-emergence in her life, together with the first of the brown leaves carpeting her entrance and the pleasant crunch of said leaves against the heavy footfalls as people walked in and out of her diner. It was subtle, but she could tell that something had changed between them during the summer. It was almost as if they were shy and tentative around one another. Maybe they were starting fresh, rewind, restart - or whatever it was that kids these days called it. But when it came down to it, they were still the same people they were before. Two burgers, two milkshakes, large fries. Table in the corner.
To her dismay despite their eventual return, their burger stops became more infrequent, less dining in together, more take out. Jeanne was even willing to swear on her dead Nonna's grave that one afternoon, she'd spotted Kate walking past the door of her diner, arms linked with a man who wasn't 'asshole', gazing inside longingly before she was dragged away to the salad bar on the other side of the road. As silly as it sounded, she missed them. They didn't know who she was, and she didn't know who they really were, but she really did miss them. In any case, she wasn't going to complain. At least they were back.
She noticed their disappearance once more when summer crept up again. This time though, it was 'asshole' who walked in for the single order. It was the middle of the season, in the midst of the blistering heat and he looked horrible. The bags under the man's eyes told of sleepless nights and if his hollowed out cheeks were an indication, he wasn't eating well either. Jeanne was tempted to ask him if he was doing okay - but he'd seemed so despondent that she had just left him alone. Her curiosity really peaked when he came back a second time that week with an older man - Dean? Gene? Yes, her hearing wasn't quite what it used to be.
She remembered this one occasion clearly because at the time, she thought it was funny that this older man called him 'asshole' too. She overheard snippets of their conversation as she set their food on the table, smiling at the younger man. They talked about Kate, meaning that she was around. Just, not around. That day, she served them their coffees on the house (turns out milkshakes were more of a Kate and 'asshole' thing). They looked like they needed it. The men smiled at her appreciatively and that evening, the tip she received was the biggest one he'd ever left. That was almost half a year ago and besides the occasional stop once every few weeks, she barely saw her favourite couple anymore.
"S'cuse me."
Slurred words - oh how she hated them. Annoyed that she'd been interrupted from her walk down memory lane, she turned to her side where the voice had originated from, expecting to encounter some drunk bimbette looking for a phone to call a cab. However, the person she actually came face to face with was the furthest from being a bimbette as one could get.
It was Kate. The Kate.
"You've watched's - f'so long, right?"
Jeanne had been around her fair share of drunken speeches to understand what the young woman was asking, but she could only nod dumbly at her. Yes, she had actually watched them for a really long time. No point in denying that. Kate had moved from her spot next to her to slide into the chair across the table.
"You watch us, I see it. All th'time. You know us, me, 'stle and I. "
The younger woman was really drunk, but still - Jeanne felt a blush rising to her cheeks as if the beautiful, gorgeous woman in front of her could tell that she'd just spent the last half an hour day-dreaming about her relationship with 'asshole'.
"So y'can tell me," Kate drawled out again, surprisingly maintaining eye contact despite her obvious inebriation. "Does Castle love me?"
"Hun, places of residence can't love people," Jeanne said gently. "Is there anyone I can call for you so you can get home safely, dear?"
Kate stared at her, her eyes blinking as her hair fell in waves around her shoulders. "Castle."
Jeanne nodded slowly. "Okay, your home - this castle that you live in, what's the address?"
"You don' geddit."
Jeanne sucked in a deep breath. Gorgeous or not, dealing with drunk Kate was slightly frustrating.
"I love him. But he hid my mo-mother from me. And there's this big scr-screen, y'know? S'got my face, and mother's face and a whole lotsa other faces, y'know? And he's said - he s-says, he loves me. But he's breakin' my heart."
Oh. The poor girl. Jeanne wasn't able to make any sense of what she was mumbling about, but clearly it was about a guy. She got up and silently grabbed a glass from behind the counter and filled it up with water, placing on the table. She settled back into her seat and leaned forwards, pushing the glass closer to Kate.
"Drink up, alright? Then you tell me everything from the start. Do want to have anything to eat, honey?"
Green eyes, wide and innocent, staring at her.
"Castle buys me burgers n'shake," she whispered.
OH. Oh!
Asshole. Castle.
OH.
If Jeanne hadn't been too busy worrying about Kate, she'd probably have laughed out loud. All this time, she'd assumed 'asshole' was an affectionate nick name for the guy. Her hearing really was deteriorating. Castle. The poor girl was in love with her Castle - her asshole. Sitting back down, a little shaken by the sudden revelation, she took Kate's hands, gently stroking them with her fingers.
"I do watch you. Every time I get a chance to, and honey, there is no man who loves you more than your Castle. Okay?"
"'Kay," Kate said, still staring at her with her big green eyes. "So can you tell him?"
"Tell him what, honey?"
"Tell him … tha' he loves me. Tha-That I love'im. So, so much. Make'im stop hurting me, please?"
The bell by her door chimed and reluctantly, Jeanne turned to the person who had just walked in, silently regretting not having turned her sign to 'Close' before. But taking in the dishevelled suit, the tousled hair and the frantic look on his face, Jeanne was glad she hadn't.
She got up and gestured to the man who'd just walked in. Turning back to Kate, she bent down and whispered in the woman's ears.
"Listen Kate, dear. Everything you just said to me, you need to say it again, okay?" She said softly. "Cause your Castle is here, and the poor boy looks like he's just lost his soul."
She straightened up and met the man's eyes - blue, strikingly blue. "She's all yours now, Mr. Castle, although be warned, the poor girl is a little drunk."
"She was never mine, Jeanne," he said. "But I think I've lost her anyway."
Her heart fluttered as he spoke her name, her appreciation for the man increasing tenfold. Suddenly, she wanted more than anything in the world for them to work out. The expression on their faces both matched - heartbreak and pain, eyes red-rimmed, as though all the fight had been driven out of them. Something big must have happened between the two.
"Why don't both of you sit and talk, and I'll get you your food, okay?"
He nodded stiffly and sat down opposite his love, gingerly placing his big hands over her tiny ones on the table.
Jeanne slinked into the back kitchen, yelling out an order to her chef before she got out the two plates that they'd need. She peered back out from the window towards her couple (because yes, they were 'her' couple now) and she chewed on the insides of her cheek. They weren't speaking, not a word, but their fingers were laced around each other's, her knees wedged between his under the table.
They were staring at each other, as if they had some weird non-verbal method of communicating that didn't involve actually speaking. Jeanne sighed. She had a feeling that they'd have to overcome a lot of issues before she would be able to see them get back to the way they were when they first set foot in her diner. And she was going to do everything she could to help them get there.
Starting with burgers, shakes and large fries.
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Yeah I don't know about this one. Celebrated Oktoberfest at uni a few days ago, I'm going to blame this on the remnants of alcohol in my system :P
Also, a quick note - just in case there's confusion about it. 'Asshole', when I say it, sounds really similar to 'Castle'- hence the constant repetition of the word in the body of the fic. I thought it would be pretty easy to confuse the two words, with Jeanne's bad hearing and all, but it has been brought to my attention that not everyone says 'asshole' the same way I do - and so the confusion between the two words will not make sense.
I apologise for that. Just … I don't know, if you say the two words differently than I do, then pretend they sound the same anyway for the sake of the story? Artistic license and all that jazz? :P