An Toiseach Pòg

They've just broken the case when her phone rings. Beckett stares at it hopelessly, frozen in front of the murder board, and glances over to the boys. Chewing at her bottom lip, she swipes her thumb across the screen to accept the call and strides for the break room, ignoring the boys' cries of protest at her back.

"Beckett."

"Ooh, you always answer your phone like that?" He says, and the pure admiration in his voice makes her laugh.

Sinking onto the couch, Kate folds her legs at the knee and cradles her phone close, letting her eyes slip closed as she pictures his face. "I'm in work mode. Sorry."

"Don't be." He laughs, his words rich and refracting around his grin. "Seriously sexy. So, Detective Beckett, you got a case right now?"

"Yes, actually. But I think we just cracked it. So hopefully it'll be done by tonight." She finds herself smiling just at the sound of him breathing on the other end of the line, has to shake herself out of it. That is just ridiculous.

She met the man this morning. And yes, he's a really great kisser, and the sharp crack of chemistry between them is undeniable, but even so. There's no need to swoon.

"That's good. Would you like to get dinner?"

It's been such a long time since she's done this. Dated anyone. She feels completely off her game, wrecked by him, but at the same time adrenaline starbursts through her system. It's so nice to be wanted, by someone who – and this she's unafraid to admit – she wants back.

"Dinner sounds great."

"Fantastic. Well, I'll let you go solve a murder, detective. I can text you the details of our date." His voice is pitched low, making her thighs tense with need and she swallows back the clog of lust.

She doesn't want to put out on the first date. That's not her style. She likes to keep some element of mystery intact, wants him to work for it. Only the way he looks at her, the way he kisses her. . .she's not entirely sure she can hold out.

It'll require everything she has. "Okay. But Castle, I might not be able to make it. It depends on the case."

"That's fine. Just let me know." His voice is soft and unassuming, and she wonders why he doesn't show this side of himself to the public. Why he allows himself to be splashed across page six. "I'll let you go solve a murder. See you tonight."

"See you." She smiles, holding the phone to her ear even after he disconnects the call. The dial tone is loud, jarring, but it does nothing to stop the silly grin that spreads across her face. And then Esposito taps on the door and she stands swiftly, shoving her cell phone into her jacket pocket and striding back into the bullpen.

They'll close the case today.

Her call comes later than he was hoping and she sounds breathless, the rush of the city in the background distracting him for just a moment before he remembers to speak. "Hey."

"Hey Castle." She says, and it has him wriggling in pleasure in his office chair, the laptop's screensaver scrolling past over and over again. You should be writing and yes, thank you, he knows that. He's just been. . .a little distracted, this afternoon.

Leaning back, he rests a hand at the back of his neck and turns his chair to face the window. Outside, the scattered lights of the city entice him; he'd really like to be out there soaking in the hum of life. "I really like when you call me that. Castle."

"Oh. It's a cop thing." She sounds like she's blushing and more than anything he wishes he could see the rise of a delicate flush in her cheeks. "We closed the case. I know it's late-"

"Come over." He finds himself blurting out, a little startled by his own fervency. She sounds tired and he guesses that she doesn't want to go out for dinner, but that doesn't mean they can't still see each other. "I haven't eaten. We can get takeout."

"That sounds nice. Text me your address?" She murmurs, and he grins. His mother and daughter are both out this evening, so they can ensconce themselves on the couch. They can talk, and laugh, and maybe make out a little.

Or a lot. He's hopeful.

"I will do. Bye, Kate." He says to her, waits for her to return the sentiment before he hangs up. And then he's up and striding for the closet, picking out a dress shirt in crisp maroon and dark slacks. In the living room, he plumps the pillows on the couch and sets out a bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table.

And then he paces, palms clammy as he waits on her. It's juvenile and a little ridiculous, but he is utterly enthralled by this woman and he cannot wait to see her again. She's so fascinating to him. Inspiring, even, and since he killed Derrick Storm he's been really lacking in that department.

As well as that, the way she makes him want to write, there hasn't been anyone since his divorce from Gina, his ego more than a little bruised. It's part of the reason he agreed so readily to the project this morning, eager at the prospect of maybe meeting someone.

Not that he could have anticipated just how amazing that someone would be. She has him hooked already. A knock on the door startles him and he jerks, half-runs to answer it.

Oh God. She's so insanely beautiful.

Tentative and a little shy, she shrugs her shoulders inside of her blazer and smoothes her palms down her thighs, his mouth going dry at the entirely too flattering cut of her slacks. "I'm sorry. I came straight from the precinct. I should have gone home to change."

"Don't be ridiculous. You look great." He says, ushering her inside the loft and closing the door behind them. Once he's finished with the lock - Alexis keeps drilling into him the importance of security with all those crazy fans out there - he turns back to find Kate standing in the middle of the living room with her back to him. "Can I get you a drink?"

"That would be great." She turns a smile over her shoulder to him and he gapes, hurries over to her and sets his hand at her bicep.

Her jaw goes slack and she stares up at him, the choppy cut of her hair falling across her cheeks. "I would really, really like to kiss you again."

"Oh you would?" She teases, lifting an eyebrow at him. Just that, the edge of her humour coupled with the soft heat of her body so close to his, and he knows she's got him.

He wants her. Badly. "Very much. But only if you wanted me to."

Chewing on her lip, she regards him carefully for a moment before taking a step backwards. Not far, it doesn't even sever the connection of his hand at her arm, but her message is clear. "Let's eat first. And then we should talk. I don't want to just fall into bed with you."

He laughs, and then she does too even as she's shaking her head at him, and it dispels some of the crackling tension. "You're right. I haven't ordered; I wasn't sure what you would want."

"My favourite is Thai." She shrugs at him, slipping off her jacket and draping it over the back of the couch. And then she steps out of her heels and he realises that she's actually a good bit shorter than him.

Still tall and statuesque and gorgeous, of course, but she also looks like she would fit comfortably into his embrace like this. Fold herself close against him. "Mine too. How about it?"

"Is it really, or are you just saying that?" She challenges. Even looking up at him, she's commanding and powerful and it has his guts turning to water. How much he respects her already takes him by surprise, but makes perfect sense.

"I like most things. I'm easy." And then he leers at her and she rolls her eyes, moves away from him to settle on the couch and he follows.

Already. He follows.

Dinner was easier than she imagined. She had sort of assumed she'd spend the whole time staving off his advances, but he was sweet and attentive and perfectly happy to just talk with her.

And that surprised her too. How easy it is to hold a conversation with him. He asked her about work, but seemed to sense when she didn't want to discuss it anymore and let her question him instead. It makes her guts clench, something so strange about sitting here with her favourite author and being able to ask him anything at all she wants.

They fade into silence gradually, naturally, the both of them studying one another but content not to say anything. And then his fingers come to tuck her hair back behind her ear and he smiles at her, shifts a little closer. "Kate? I really like you. I'd like to see you again."

"Castle. . ." She starts, sucking in a breath between her teeth. It doesn't seem right, to lead him on. Let him think she's anywhere close to being able to do this with him. "I'm not. . .the easiest person to be with. I have baggage."

"That's okay. So do I. Two divorces, Kate." He shrugs, but she sees the scared little boy underneath. The fear that he'll never get it right. Oh, how well she knows it.

Castle takes her hand in his, lacing their fingers together tight enough that it would take considerable effort for her to free herself. So she doesn't. "I, uh- my life is mostly work."

"I don't mind. I'm a writer; I can be flexible. And you're worth it."

She feels heat rush in at her cheeks, totally powerless to stop it, and gnaws on her bottom lip. "You can't possibly think that already."

"I do. I want to know you." He says, and then he's leaning in until she can feel his breath against her own mouth, her whole body crying out in exaltation. "You have to tell me to stop."

She shivers, brings a hand up to fist in his collar and draw him in, close the distance between them. "Don't stop." She whispers, and then his mouth is on hers and all of her anxiety melts away.

There are so many things that, when he finds them out, have the potential to send him scrambling away from her. But somehow, the way he kisses her means it just ceases to matter. Maybe when he finds out that her mother is dead, that her father is an alcoholic - yes in recovery but it never ends, Castle will not want anything to do with her.

Right now, though, he's kissing her soft and sweet and his palm is splayed wide at her back and she wants nothing more than for it not to stop.

Hours later, on her side in his bed with her bare skin flush against his, Kate's cell phone rings. He groans, kissing the line of her neck before she manages to reach for it and answer. Thankfully, there's a pen on the nightstand, but no pad of paper like she has at home.

Kate scrawls the address of the crime scene onto the back of her hand instead and listens to the rest of the information dispatch gives her. Their victim is apparently the daughter of the multimillionaire industrialist Jonathan Tisdale, and so they need to get this one wrapped as soon as possible so, God forbid, the man doesn't sue or something.

"I have to go to work." She murmurs once her call disconnects, leaning in to kiss Castle's temple, his cheek. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay." He grins, kissing her mouth. She gives it right back to him for a moment, lets his tongue stroke inside and then she's peeling herself away from him, albeit with some reluctance. "Call me later?"

"I'll call you." She says softly, and then Kate climbs out of Rick Castle's bed and starts getting ready to head to the crime scene.

A/N: Okay, I really am done now.