Candy and Popcorn, post-ep for S3's "Law & Murder."

A/N: This has been sitting on my hard drive for months, rudely unable to finish writing itself. Therefore, I have to put the blame for typos & bad writing solely on myself.

The air was pleasantly cool as they left the Angelika Theater. Beckett began to put on her coat, and felt the weight of it lift; realizing Castle was holding it for her, she slipped in her arms. As she pulled her hair out from under the collar, she gave him a shy smile, her contagious grin raising his lips in mirrored response. Castle took a deep breath in through his nose and gestured toward the sidewalk.

They strolled side-by-side in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the smells of the coming spring and the brief glimpses into their fellow pedestrians' lives as they passed them by on the sidewalk.

"So, did you like it, Castle?"

Beckett glanced at her companion as they turned down Mercer Street, the lights of the Angelika fading behind them.

Castle pursed his lips and cast his eyes upward, weighing his response. "I thought it was delightfully cheesy, dated and sexist, but conceptually, far ahead of its time."

She hummed in reply, smiling at his brief yet comprehensive review.

He then added, "I also thoroughly enjoyed the not-so-subtle chemistry lesson."

"How so?"

He responded with mock indignation. "Why, Detective, was I the only one paying attention to the love story?"

She twisted her lips, trying to downplay her amusement. "Enlighten me."

"Well, as you may or may not remember…"

"Castle—"

"When the Lieutenant tries to woo Altaira, he attempts to knock her socks off with a kiss. Since she's never had a kiss, he figures no problem, and proceeds to smooch her several times, but she remains...unmoved."

She nodded, trying to see where this was going. "Right..."

"But then when she and Nielsen's Commander kiss, they're both quite moved by the experience."

"So your point is…"

"They had chemistry," he shrugged. "The now classic story of two people who can't stand each other when they meet, but secretly do like each other, and therefore demonstrate their desires through banter and witty repartee."

She smiled at that, glancing at her feet. "Swordplay."

Castle lifted his head at her choice of words. "Yes. An apt description."

After a brief silence, she brought her finger to her chin. "Of course, there's also the possibility that the Lieutenant was a bad kisser."

"Too much tongue?"

Rolling her eyes, she clarified, "If there's no spark, there's no spark."

Castle gripped her arm lightly, halting their walk, amused by her willingness to continue this not-entirely-subtle conversation. "Wait, was it a bad kiss or a lack of chemistry? Is his prowess – or lack thereof – entirely inconsequential?"

"I'm saying if there's no chemistry, no spark, then the best kiss in the world simply becomes…a touching of lips."

He couldn't help but glance at her mouth, and leaned toward her, almost instinctually. "But if it's the best kiss in the world, by definition, doesn't that sort of negate your point?"

"Now we're just arguing semantics."

"Ooh, I love it when you talk dirty." He grinned, unable to stop himself.

Beckett slapped him lightly on the arm, her smile belying the faux anger, and then her eyes travelled over his face before landing on his mouth. The air seemed to quiet around them as they looked at each other under the glow from the streetlights.

Her eyes darted between his eyes and mouth. "I think it's possible to recognize a good kiss without needing to feel a spark."

"I do know how to recognize a good kiss, Detective." He cleared his throat, adding boldly, "As well as give one."

She didn't doubt that one bit; in fact past experience had only confirmed it for her.

"Prove it."

His eyes widened in arousal and her cheeks flushed hot as she struggled to maintain eye contact with him, the quiet air now buzzing with an energy that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Continuing this game was dangerous, but it was worth the risk. Still, since he couldn't touch her — not yet, at least — his desires manifested as they always did: in his words. And somehow, he found his voice, gravelly and low.

"It starts off slow, the tiniest bit of pressure, the soft exchange of breaths." His eyes flicked down to her mouth, and he swore he saw the flush on her cheeks spread down across her neck. "And it's not just lips. A light touch of fingers along the jaw, the throat, across the soft hairs at the nape of the neck." His eyes obeyed his voice, his fingers aching to demonstrate.

Her breathing had become erratic, but she couldn't move, her whole body immobilized by his words, held captive by the unnamable, irresistible energy flowing between them.

"As it continues, this kiss, it deepens, mouths open, breaths turn ragged, touches grow firmer. It's new and yet so familiar."

Castle stepped closer, so close he could smell the delicate remnants of her shampoo. His eyes found hers, and he immediately regretted it; it tore at his heart, being so close to someone he wanted so badly and not being able to act on it.

"You'd give anything just to feel it again."

His last words were whispers, his eyes lost to the look on her face, her mouth slightly agape as she struggled for air. He wondered if her brain was being flooded by the same memories as his from only a few weeks before: a dingy warehouse; a planned distraction that became anything but; his heart pounding as he tasted her for the first time.

He swore to himself it would not be the last time.

She reached up, her palm inches from resting on his chest. "Castle, I—"

The shrill ring of her cell phone stunned them both, and as she glanced at the screen, he knew immediately who was calling.

Before she answered and the heartbreak on his face could give him away, Castle stepped back, thumbing over his shoulder as he forced a smile onto his lips. "I'm gonna get going. Thanks for the movie."

He turned his back before she could even form a response.

"And the candy and popcorn," she called after him.

Castle paused to glance over his shoulder, the smile on his lips belying the sadness in his eyes. "And the candy and popcorn," he echoed. "Goodnight, Kate."

Her phone call now forgotten, she watched him walk away, her voice a quiet sigh. "'Night."

fin.