Chapter Text
Kate Beckett had a problem. She baked. Not desserts. Too complicated, too many ingredients, too much time. No, she baked bread. Sourdough, rye, French, bagels, all of it.
It was perfect because all she needed was flour, water, and a few other basics. And apart from a little kneading and shaping, she didn't really have to do anything. She could get the dough ready in the morning and when she got home, she'd shape it and then let it rise and bake while she took a bath and relaxed. And then she had delicious fresh baked bread.
The problem was that she baked more when she was stressed and she'd been stressed a lot lately. So now there was bread everywhere. She didn't want to give it to her neighbors, because then they'd want to make small talk. She hated small talk.
Beckett sighed and stared at the giant braided loaves of brioche and challah breads (she knew they were different, but they still tasted pretty much the same to her, so she'd made both to compare), and the sourdough boules she had sitting on the counter.
She contemplated her options as she fed Larry, her sourdough starter. She couldn't take them to work. She didn't want anyone at work knowing she baked. People would make comments. Castle would probably find it hilarious and want to put it in a book.
In fact, no one knew that she baked. Not even people that she’d dated. She thought, maybe irrationally, that if they knew she baked bread, they'd start wanting her to do other domestic tasks. Laundry. Dishes. Potluck dinners or double dates. She shuddered. No, thank you. Plus, she liked having secrets. Secrets were fun.
She nibbled her lip, then nibbled some bread. Yum. It was a shame, because she didn't want to waste the bread and the boys would love it. She hummed thoughtfully. Actually, maybe she could take it to work. It’s not like anyone would ever suspect her. Right? She would just do it this one time. No one would ever know, her secret would be safe, she’d get to eat bread at work, and the boys would be happy. She patted Larry affectionately and went to bed.
*********
“Whoa! Where'd the bread come from?” Esposito asked, stepping into the break room.
Beckett shrugged. “No idea. It was here when I got in. But I'm not complaining.”
Esposito cut a piece of brioche and buttered it. He took a bite and his eyes lit up. “Man! This is delicious! What kind of bread is this?”
Beckett rolled her eyes. “How am I supposed to know, Espo? It's bread.” Inside, she felt smugly delighted. She thought her bread was delicious, but she hadn't really shared it with anyone else. It was nice to know that other people thought it was good, too.
They walked out of the break room just as Ryan came in. “Hey! What's that? And why didn't you bring me any?”
“There's more in there,” mumbled Esposito through a mouthful of bread. “I's delicious.”
Ryan's eyes lit up and he practically ran to the break room. A few seconds later there was a screech. “Oo, is this sourdough?? I love sourdough!”
Beckett smirked into her coffee. This was going even better than she imagined. Ryan came back in, his cheeks stuffed, and clutching a hunk of bread. There were a few minutes of silence while Ryan and Esposito devoured their spoils.
“But who do you think brought it?” Ryan asked, licking his fingers.
“Dude, why does it matter?” mumbled Esposito, his mouth still full.
“Bro, because it was delicious. And if we know who it was, maybe we can get them to bring more.”
“Oohh.” Esposito looked happy, then sad as he realized his bread was gone.
“What’d I miss? Bring more what?” Castle asked nosily as he sailed in and flopped down into his chair. “And what’s that amazing smell?”
“Bread.”
“Bread? Like, homemade bread?” Castle's eyes lit up.
“Yeah, man. It was amazing.”
Before Castle could get too excited, Ryan said, “Sorry man. It’s all gone now.”
“All gone? You didn't save me any?” He whined.
“You snooze, you lose.”
Castle muttered under his breath and glared at everyone.
“Besides, why do you care? Can't you just make your own bread whenever you want? You’re always bragging about your cooking skills,” Ryan said.
“Yeah, man. Hey, why haven't you made us bread before?” Esposito looked offended. “Have you been making bread and not giving us any? That’s cold.”
Castle looked even grumpier. “No. I can't make bread.”
“What do you mean? You cook stuff all the time.” Ryan looked puzzled.
“That, my good sir, is different.”
“How?”
“How should I know!” Castle pouted like the small child he was. “It doesn’t look hard at all! I should totally be able to make it! But I tried it a bunch of times when Alexis was little, and it was all either burnt or doughy, and I gave up. What’s the point of doing anything if you’re not the best at it?”
Beckett rolled her eyes. He would give up because of his ego.
“I can't remember when I last had homemade bread.” Castle looked wistful. “Was it good?”
“So good, man.”
“And you don't know who brought it?”
“No.”
They all sighed. Beckett smirked.
*********
Beckett had a dilemma. She'd meant bringing the bread to work to be a one time thing. But she hadn't anticipated the reaction of a bunch of overgrown boys to homemade food. Especially since most of them, like her, lived off of takeout.
Though that wasn't strictly true. Beckett lived off of takeout at work. At home, she tended to eat bread. Sandwiches, bread, cheese, and wine, french toast, etc. But she never brought anything to work because she didn't want to give her secret away.
Beckett tapped her pen against her mouth thoughtfully, as she pretended to look over a case file. If she brought in more bread, secretly, she could eat it at work and no one would know. Logistically, most of the recipes she used made at least 2 loaves, and it was actually kind of a pain to alter recipes for smaller amounts.
Beckett stared at the case file, frowning deeply. Yes, this was an excellent plan. She deserved all the bread. And maybe some pie.
When Beckett went home, she greeted Larry with a big bag of flour. And a cherry pie.
At the precinct, the boys were hopeful the next day. This quickly turned to sadness as another day passed and no more bread appeared.
“Guess it was a one time thing.”
“I never even got to try any!” Castle whined.
But then on Thursday there were two loaves of sourdough, still warm. And Friday, there were a couple loaves of French bread.
The boys were in heaven.
“But where did it come from?” said Castle, munching his way through his 4th piece of bread.
“Does it matter?” asked Beckett.
Castle looked at her. “Uh, obviously. It’s a mystery, Beckett! A bread mystery! Besides, how else can we make sure that there’s more?”
“It’s just bread,” Beckett pointed out.
“Just bread?” Castle sputtered, his mouth full.
Espo glared at her. “You’re just saying that because you’re annoyed that Castle got the last piece of bread.”
Beckett glared at him, and at Castle. “It’s not my fault Writer Boy inhales everything in sight. I only got 2 pieces!”
Castle mumbled through a mouthful of bread, “I can’t help it if you’re slow, Beckett. It’s survival of the fittest. Besides, you should really be blaming Montgomery. I’m pretty sure he took half a loaf yesterday.”