Flying beta free... all mistakes are our own

Kate stared at the file in front of her, willing it to make sense. There had to be a lead somewhere. She just hadn't found it yet. She ran a hand through her hair and looked over at the empty chair next to her desk. She missed Castle. He was on the West Coast on a book tour and the three-hour time difference was becoming a real bitch. She was certain the case would have been cracked wide open if only he'd been here, but the few times they'd gotten to talk, she'd been loath to bring up work, preferring to hear his stories about the insane fans he'd met along the way. She took a sip from her coffee mug, gagging when the cold liquid hit her tongue.

Kate took it as a sign. It wasn't like she was hot on a lead and stepping away for a moment could cost her everything. She stood up and stretched, her cramped muscles grateful for the reprieve after staying in one position for hours on end. She picked up her mug and walked to the break room to make herself a fresh cup of coffee.

She returned quietly to her desk. Flicking through the file, she pulled out the vic's financials, determined to find something there that might explain why exactly he'd been shot two blocks from his workplace. She was determined to ignore the pounding in her head and close this damn case. Their victim had left behind a wife and two teenage daughters and Kate would be damned if she was going to leave them without answers. Massaging her temples, Kate got to work.

"Detective Beckett." Kate nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard her name called. Captain Gates was standing next to her desk. "My office, now." It was clear that the Captain's tone brooked no argument. Kate took a sip of her now cold coffee (how long had she been staring at those financials?) and followed the captain.

"Detective, how long has it been since that body dropped?" Gates asked as she settled herself behind her desk.

"About twelve days now," Kate replied, a knot settling in her stomach when she realised where this conversation was going.

"Any leads from CSU or the Coroner's department?"

"Our vic was shot with a 9mm. No prints on his wallet that was emptied of cash. No watch or phone on him either," Kate recited the facts of the case.

"No CCTV footage or witnesses?"

Kate shook her head "CCTV in the area was disabled." The knot in her stomach tightened with dread.

"Its time to call it, Detective. This is your average New York mugging. There's no conspiracy, nothing unusual going on. The case has gone cold."

"But sir," Kate protested.

"But nothing, Beckett. You and I both know that you have no leads. You're only wasting your time and resources investigating a case that is going to go nowhere." Gates paused, a tiny bit of sympathy crossing her features. "Detective, I'm sorry, but you know I can't justify this any longer."

Kate bit her lip, determined not to let this discussion denigrate into a screaming match. "I'll go inform the family."

Informing the family was every bit as awful as Kate had anticipated. The elder daughter had called her a "useless lying bitch", the younger daughter sobbing hysterically and his widow catatonic.

Kate let herself out, dashing back to her Dodge Charger before a storm hit. She switched the radio off, content to have some silence as she made the journey home from New Brunswick. The traffic once she hit Manhattan was awful, each beep of a horn pushing her closer and closer to migraine territory and she had no problem sticking her head of her window to scream abuse at the jackass who nearly sideswiped her as he tried to cut her off in traffic. If the thought of flashing lights didn't make her want to throw up, she would have flipped the gumball purely so that she could get home.

She was cold, wet and miserable by the time she made it to her apartment door. Tossing her keys into the bowl by the door, she flung her handbag onto the couch and stripped off her shoes, sighing in relief when her bare feet touched the ground. She looked over at her refrigerator, briefly considering the half eaten container of Singapore noodles that she'd left in there. She dismissed the thought, realising that they would probably only make her sick. Her phone buzzed. Kate slowly began stripping off her wet clothes (heedless that she was dropping them on the floor), hoping desperately she hadn't received a text about a body. A clap of lightening illuminated the entire apartment. Kate made her way to the bathroom and began to run a bath. She put her phone down on the edge of the sink, opening up her medicine cabinet to find some painkillers to throw back. Thunder boomed and the lights in the apartment flickered. Tossing some bath salts into the water, Kate picked up her lighter and moved to light the candles she had strategically placed around the room.

Kate picked up her phone. She had a sympathetic text from Lanie about the case. She quickly typed out a generic reply, before closing her text messages. Her heart caught in her chest when she saw her wallpaper. One night at the loft, Castle had suckered her into teaching him how to make her raspberry and white chocolate muffins. One thing had led to another and there was an all out battle of attrition in the kitchen. Castle had managed to grab her around the waist and either Martha or Alexis had managed to catch a candid shot of Castle attempting to lick her batter covered cheek as she smashed an egg on his head. Kate didn't even think about it. Opening her text messages, she typed three words and hit send.

I miss you.

She placed her phone back on the bench. Castle was probably at some fancy publishing event, rubbing shoulders with the rich and elite and wouldn't check his phone for hours.

With a delighted sigh, Kate sank into the scorching hot water. The heat began to unfurl the tightness in her muscles and as she allowed herself to relax, guilt began to churn in her stomach.

There was nothing in the world that Kate hated more than when a case went cold. She'd been on the other side of that, heard the platitudes of "gang related violence" and it made her sick to her stomach that there was another family in the world that was going to have to comfort themselves with the fact that they'd lost one of their nearest and dearest to nothing but "a mugging gone too far". Her disgust at her failure to put the son of a bitch that did this behind bars roiled heavily in her gut, her exhaustion and loneliness compounding to place the weight of the world on her shoulders. The tears that she'd been fighting all day finally made their way to the surface. Kate didn't fight the sting, instead giving into the urge to crumble into nothingness and sob. The tough as nails homicide detective persona she projected so effectively at work was exhausting and Kate had no problems with sitting alone in her bathtub and letting herself soak in her misery.

He was stepping through the bullpen when her text came through. The three words tugged at his heart, and he looked back up, his eyes falling on her empty desk as he approached the clean murder board.

Karpowski breezed past him toward the elevator, tossing a, "They've all left for the night, Castle," over her shoulder as she continued on her way. He stopped mid-step, turned on his heel and joined her in the elevator, sharing the ride with her back down to the lobby.

Back in transit again - he had done so much of that recently that he was ready to just be still for a while - he made his way to her apartment building. With the spare key she had entrusted him with not so long ago, he entered her apartment. The lights were dim, just the light from the kitchen illuminating the room, her wet clothing strewn on the floor and he glanced around, suddenly unsure.

"Kate?" He called, to announce his presence so she didn't shoot him. "You here?"

He was met with silence for a beat, before her voice echoed through the silence. "Castle?"

He stepped with purpose towards her bedroom, the direction her voice had come from and entered the darkened room. A soft flickering light, under the door from the en-suite bathroom, and from the crack along the frame where it hadn't quite latched in place, guided his way to her. He tapped lightly. "You decent?"

"No."

He reconsidered that question. "Can I come in?"

She was silent, and he feared for a moment she might say no. But then, "Yeah."

He pushed open the door, and his heart clenched once more. Room bathed in candle-light, Kate sat in the middle of the tub, knees pulled up to her chest, eyes red, fingertips wiping away tears that had trailed down her cheeks. He crouched down beside the claw-foot porcelain tub and cupped her cheek with his palm as she turned to him.

"You're supposed to be in L.A," she accused him through uneven breaths. "You're not supposed to be seeing me cry."

He wiped her wet cheeks dry with his thumb, his fingertips grazing lightly across her smooth, warm skin. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the bath water; the steam rising up around her. She leaned into his touch, a gentle sigh escaping her lips.

"Finished sooner than expected, and I managed to get on an earlier flight," he said softly. "Thought I'd surprise you."

She laughed mirthlessly at that. "Sorry I'm a mess."

He cupped her cheek with his other hand and bumped her nose with his, an eskimo kiss, before capturing her lips in a sweet kiss. He smiled as they separated. "I missed you too," he told her.

She smiled at that and leaned in for another kiss, one a little harder, a little more fierce. "Get in the tub, Castle," she commanded.

His hands slipped from her cheeks, and he stood, slipping out of his clothes; weary from traveling he just wanted to hold her, feel her warmth against him, trail his fingers over her soft skin and never let her go. Naked, he stepped carefully into the tub behind her, sinking down into the warm water, until he was sitting behind her, with her nestled between his legs. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and eased her back until her back was flush with his chest. "What happened today, Kate?" He whispered, his lips brushing her ear, strands of her wet hair clinging to his own cheek. "Talk to me."

She released a long sigh, before relaxing against him, sinking into his warmth; she allowed it all to be pulled from her - the case, the whole damn day - and to dissipate with the steam as it swirled around them. "Rough case," she admitted.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here."

He felt her chuckle, her body shaking lightly against his.

"I'm a big girl, Castle. I just let this one get under my skin." She swiped away the remaining tears. "The day caught up with me, but I'm fine."

With deft fingers he brushed the wet strands of hair off her cheek, and dropped a kiss to her damp skin. His lips trailed down to her neck and she tilted her head back, to the side, allowing him better access. He kissed away the drops of moisture that had dripped out of her hair, down her skin, replacing it with his own heated trail from his lips and tongue.

With his lips dragging up her skin, he reached to the side, for the soft sea sponge resting on the edge of the tub and submerged it beside her leg. Dragging it up out of the water, he slid the soft sponge up her long leg, helping to scrub away her day - the memories of a case she wasn't yet ready to discuss - with circular strokes along her skin. He massaged gently, up her inner thigh and the soft, delicate skin there, around her hip, her abdomen. She turned her head, her lips colliding with his, as he dipped lower, massaging the sponge between her splayed legs. A low moan left her lips, vibrating against his own mouth, when the soft sponge made contact with her clit. With circular movements, he teased her with the roughened texture of the sponge, his lips moving with hers as his hand kept up the rhythm beneath the surface of the water, between her legs.
Her eyes fluttered shut as he applied just a little extra pressure and her lips slid from his, her head lolling to rest on his shoulder. "You okay?" He whispered into her wet hair.

She nodded, a soft hum leaving her lips. "Just... Don't stop," she whispered, the words little more than a whimper. "I need..."

He knew her body, so well now. Knew all her secrets. And tonight, he knew, she didn't want hard, fast sex. She needed comfort, slow and gentle, enough to warm her from the inside out and make her feel loved. Still, he asked the question, more because he loved hearing the answer than because he was unsure. "What do you need?"

"You," she breathed out. She turned her head into his neck, her lips resting above his jugular, feeling his blood pulse beneath.

"Top drawer still?" He asked, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

"Yes," she said against his neck, her lips ghosting upon his skin. She pulled away then and turned slightly; one long arm rooting around blinding in the drawer to retrieve the tube of waterproof lube and handed it to him, her lips connecting with his stubble-roughened jaw as she did so.

Bath sponge floating towards the far end of the tub, now forgotten, he slipped two coated fingers down and swirled them around her clit, he teased slowly as his fingers descended further; he slid two long fingers slowly inside her, her body resting back against his chest as she exhaled a long sigh.

Her lips brushing his neck once more, she repeated, "You, Castle. I need you."

With well-rehearsed movements, he tugged her up onto his lap, her legs coming to rest along his, her elbows out and pressing hard into the sides of the porcelain tub, giving her the leverage she needed. She raised herself up with her elbows, her hands wrapped tightly around the edge of the tub. Her legs slipped off his, she raised her knees and pressed the soles of her feet firmly against the smooth porcelain corners. She lifted herself up, just enough and he eased inside her.

In such a confined space, with so little space to stretch her legs out, she was so very tight. He entered her carefully, slowly, letting the lube do its job as he pushed in. She lowered herself down and he wrapped his arms around her waist, just holding her against him while they sat joined, motionless, revelling quietly in the feel of being together again.

"I missed you so much." The words left his mouth with more emotion than he had expected.

Her cheek pressed to his, her damp hair clinging to his skin, she murmured, "I love you."

She took control before he could choke out a response, raising herself up and lowering herself back down, rotating her hips with controlled movements as she did so.

He moved his hands to her hips, helping guide her, raising her with each upwards motion, easing her back down as her pelvis sank back beneath the surface of the cooling water, keeping up with each rotation of her hips. Her muscles tightened around him and it almost made him dizzy: the steam, the warm water, her, already so tight, clenching around him in time with the beat of his own heart.

Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the sides tighter, her movements a little less controlled now. He held her hips steady, helped guide her towards her peak; her muscles fluttered around him, and then she stilled. He felt her holding a breath, felt her whole body go rigid - ever so briefly - before she came undone in his arms, her body shuddering, her muscles contracting around him, a soft cry of release spilling from her lips. She sank back onto his lap and turned her head once more, her lips returning to his neck, where she thanked him silently with her lips and tongue.

He had intended to give her comfort, yet she had been the one doing most of the work. "Come on," he said gently. "Let's move this to the bedroom."

She eased herself off him and stood, rubbing her arms slightly as she did so.

Top drawers were his favourite thing; and he knew - because he'd placed it there one evening - that the top drawer beside her bed held massage oil. He intended to spend the rest of the evening massaging the tension - that damn case that had burrowed under her skin - out of each and every muscle in her perfect, lithe, body.

He was never leaving her again. Kate (and the massage oil) would be accompanying him on all future trips - whether Gates liked it or not.

AnnieXMuller's AN: HUGE Thank you to the Twitter ladies: nnetz974 and BklynSquint who threw this awesomely smutty Tub Fic prompt at Brookemopolitan and myself, and inspired us to finally sort our shit out and co-write something. We finally did it, B! Let's make this happen again, ok.

And also thank you to all the lovely Twitter peeps who became our cheer squad, shaking the porn poms and keeping us on track. You guys are the best.

Brookemopolitan's AN: Miss Annie and I have been joking for the longest time that we should just collaborate and be done with it (I'm talking six months plus) and apparently we just needed to think about Stana in a tub to do it. This has been such amazing fun. Thank you to all the Twitter ladies who cheered for us so faithfully along the way and again to nnetz974 and BklynSquint for giving us the shove that we needed to get this off the ground.

We hand this over to you guys… was this collaboration an act of genius or madness? Let us know :D