Author's Note: Set after Season 2's "Tick, Tick, Tick/Boom" arc. I always found it annoying that the show never really dealt with the fallout of the bomb and Kate losing everything. In reality I'm sure it would have taken ages to find another apartment, and I got to wondering what would happen if she stayed with the Castles for that time. In my head, this is a long series which shows the events of season two/three changed due to Kate staying with the Castles and eventually goes AU. I'm not sure if it is worth me continuing, but if you are interested please let me know, and I'll keep writing!

It was just a temporary thing.

Because in one moment every solid, dependable, physical thing in her life exploded from a madman's bomb. And when the dust settled, the only concrete point remaining was him.

You'll always have a home.

So it was just a temporary thing. Until she did what she did best, and clawed her way back up, and stood on her own two feet, and showed them that Kate Beckett was a survivor.

At first, she was just staying there until the caught the bomber. Then she was just staying until she got the insurance sorted. But then there were problems with insurance covering emergency accommodation, and she wasn't exactly affording a stay at the Ritz on her detective wages. She needed every penny she could spare to being to replace the necessities she had lost. And then it just seemed easier to stay until she found something else.

She vowed she would be out of there the moment things got awkward. But they never really did.

And they left the precinct together and built theory of the way home, and had dinner with Alexis while Martha glided past on the way off to meet Chet, and then Kate helped Alexis with her French homework while he made sure Nikki took another villain off the streets. On busy nights it was pizza and a case, and when they had nothing active it was a build-your-own-sundae bar and a double feature on the couch, just the three of them.

Then in the morning it was "Good luck on your chem test" and matched raised eyebrows at Martha just coming home when they were on their way out the door, and a "same as usual" at Starbucks and no-one even looking up with they emerged together from the elevator doors, Castle spouting some irrational theory about their latest case.

She got to know her way around his kitchen and his family and, eventually, his life. She got comfortable. Sometimes, in the corner of her mind, she could admit that she was happy.

It could never last. But she just couldn't bring herself to move out and have everything that mattered to her lay in ruins once more.

She needed an impetus. Something to shake her from the comfortable cocoon she had wrapped herself in.

She had been staying there (she refused to think 'living with him') for two weeks when Castle was on another late night show. She and Martha and Alexis had made popcorn and were bunked down on the couch waiting for his interview.

As he came out on set – dimpled smile and a quick wave at the camera – she was hit suddenly by the fact that he was Richard Castle. That she had once queued for three hours to get her book signed by him. That millions of people had read his books, on airplanes and beaches and after horrible days at work and messy divorces and – like her – after tragedies that pulled their fragile existence apart.

And now she lived in his spare bedroom. Life was funny sometimes.

He was his usual, charming self. Or not quite. So many months of seeing this man daily had made her see the carefree, charming playboy he presented to the world was more of an embellishment of one aspect of his personality. Yes, sometimes he was an eight year old jumping off the top of the monkey bars to get a cute girl's attention. But there was more to him. More substance, more heart.

Then the over-the-hill floozy on his right started flirting.

Not that Kate minded. She wasn't jealous. He could flirt with whoever (whomever, her inner-Castle voice corrected) he wanted. (And she could think 'whoever' if she wanted to, he wasn't the internal monologue grammatical police.) Kate was not his girlfriend. She was just his live-in muse/pseudo-police-partner-who's-place-got-blown-up-by-a-stalker-obsesed-with-the-fictional-alter-ego-he-concocted.

She was dimly away that on-screen they had cut to commercial. Martha and Alexis were shooting her looks they obviously thought she couldn't see out of the corner of their eyes.

Kate suddenly saw the next few weeks in excruciating detail. He'd wine and dine the floozy and the press would be all over it. Castle could be quite charming when he wanted to be (although she'd rather take a bullet to a non-vital body part than tell him that). And Kate would have to see photos of Castle and his latest conquest in her morning paper, and listen to him make flirty calls and organise romantic dinners all day and - oh God – just how sound-proof were the bedroom walls around here? Because if she had to listen to the two of them–

Not that she was jealous.

"Now you worked with actual NYPD homicide detectives to research Heat Wave, didn't you?" Bobby Mann was asking as they came back from commercial.

"Yes, I did," Castle answered. "And can you believe they still won't let me carry a gun?"

There was laughter from the audience. Kate suppressed at smirk as she rolled her eyes. "The NYPD is supposed to protect the citizens of New York, not endanger them," she remarked to Martha and Alexis.

The smirk disappeared from her face completely as the floozy on the set couch with Castle lent in closer to him (conveniently giving the camera a nice view of her cleavage) and said, "I didn't know you worked with law enforcement. It's kind of my weak spot."

Something inside Kate's stomach twisted painful. Not that she was jealous.

"Mine too," Castle stage-whispered.

Her eyes snapped back to the screen, only to see Castle staring down the camera, as though looking straight at her. Her breath caught for a moment, and the twisting in her stomach changed to something deeper, something more visceral.

She was dimly aware of the floozy sitting back in the couch, a look of annoyance flickering across her features, before being replaced with a plastic smile once more.

"Oh, ho!" Bobby Mann was saying now. "Ladies of the NYPD watch out! So, did your research with the NYPD extend to the more heated scenes?"

Castle now suddenly seemed to realise what he had implied (and that, while he was not armed, she had a service pistol in the safe of his office), and a momentary look of panic tinged with guilt crossed his features.

Luckily he was saved from answering by Hank, who lent over to Ellie Monroe. "Did I ever tell you I used to be in law enforcement." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"You were a hall monitor in middle school," Bobby corrected, to laughter from the audience.

The interview was only a few minutes. Castle confirmed that casting was not yet complete for the movie and that he was working on a second novel for the series. They plugged the book one more time and Bobby gave his trademark send-off.

There was silence in the apartment as Alexis clicked off the TV. She and Martha looked over at Kate.

They were not speaking very loudly.

She was definitely not waiting up for him. She just happened to be still up when his key turned in the lock. But though the door opened he didn't come in. Instead what appeared to be a tissue tied to the end of a chopstick emerged through the opening and waved back and forward.

"I surrender," came Castle's voice from the hall.

She hid her smile with the ease of practice and affected what Lannie called her 'perp-face'.

"Oops," offered Castle with a shrug.

"Hey, Dad," said Alexis and she walked down the stairs. "How was the show? Did you have fun?" As she went over hug Castle he tucked her in under his arm, shooting Kate puppy-dog eyes that seem to say 'you wouldn't shoot me and leave this poor innocent girl orphaned'.

Kate sighed in return and gave him a 'you're not off the hook just yet' look, although they both knew he was. He had been exploiting Alexis ever since he realised she was Kate's weak spot.

She'd get it from the boys at the station tomorrow. But really, it was no worse than anything he said every day anyway. Except this was in front of millions of people. Her frown returned. Time for bed. They had an early start, especially since she was making him go across town before work to the French bakery that made Manhattan's best bear claws.

It niggled at her though, as they investigated Bobby Mann's death. Sure, living with Castle had made her realise that most of his 'conquests' that made it to page six were complete fabrications. Just last week they'd had a photo of his 'rendezvous' with a blond bombshell and details of their dinner at le Circ. Only the bombshell was a material witness in a case that they had been interviewing (Kate had been cropped from the edge of the photo, but her sleeve was visible) and she knew he'd been home that night, because Alexis and Kate had double teamed him in laser tag and totally whooped his ass.

But even if most of his reported liaisons were nothing more than the inventions of overpaid gossip columnists the truth was sooner or later he was going to be bringing someone home. And the awkwardness of that was just too much to consider. She could just picture Castle's voice at the end of the date when they got back to his place. "Random Blond, this is my mother, my daughter and the detective who I write my best-selling novels featuring steamy sex scenes with my alter ego about. Now, can I get you a glass of wine?"

She was getting too comfortable to the Castles. Far too comfortable with dinners for more than one person and chaos over breakfast and making plans and having someone to come home too.

She made a mental note to look at some apartments on her next day off.

She reminded herself that staying with Castle was a temporary thing.

"This place is a shoe-box."

"It's compact."

"It's a death trap. Trust me girl, a place like this? I bet you the last resident was dead two weeks and being eaten by her cats before they found her."

"Lanie, if I want to be near the precinct, this is all I can afford."

"Kate, the toilet is in kitchen."

"It's convenient."

"The whole place could fit in Castle's hall closet."

"I'll save time on cleaning."

The ME raised an eyebrow. "Tell me why you leaving Writer Boy's place again? Big, spacious loft, nice views. And the lookout over Manhattan ain't too bad either."

"Castle's place, it's just a…temporary thing. Eventually it's going to get awkward."

"But it's not yet?"

Kate was silent.

"Because I seem to remember hearing all about how awkward it was living with Sorenson. How you felt suffocated. But now you spend twenty four hours a day with Writer Boy, playing house and raising his kid with him and living with his mom, and that's not suffocating? Not even awkward. Isn't that interesting?" Lanie Parish smirked at her best friend.

"I'm not….I mean, that's completely different. And I'm not raising his kid."

"What were you doing this morning when I came over?" Lanie asked.

"Just helping with her applications for the NYU summer school program."

"Mmm hmmm," replied Lanie. "And the other day when you dashed off early?"

"We were just having coffee. She wanted to talk about how to deal with a guy in class who has a crush on her. It's not like she can talk to her mother or Castle about it. The poor girl has no one," Kate defended.

"Don't you try misdirection on me, Kate Beckett. I passed psych in med school. You think Martha Rodgers couldn't tell her a thing or two about unwanted male attention?" Lanie smiled. "You tell me you didn't do a background check on the boy and I'll drop it."

Kate was silent.

"I rest my case. Now, let's get out of here before I catch something."

Both the blessing and the curse of New York: there was always another homicide to solve. A curse when she all she needed was a long soak in the tub with a good book and hot tea. A blessing when she needed an excuse to avoid another one of Lanie's blind dates, or avoid honest contemplation about the fact that she fast moving from the territory of 'bunking at a friends in a time of need' to actually living with Richard Castle.