AN: Happy birthday Lou. For all that you are and all that do to brighten my day I offer this small token and say hugs, thanks for being my friend ;) and... I know it's far but... cake sharezies?

Set during Under The Gun.

"Unfortunately when you go treasure hunting with a cop she makes you return the treasure to its rightful owner. But, uh, the evening wasn't a total loss. When we found it she did give me a sweaty hug."

"So, unggg, how long have, ach, you, ugh, had a shovel, ughhh, in your trunk?" He huffed another load of dirt over his shoulder and then gave up, his body leaning heavy on the handle.

"Since I met you." Beckett growled under her breath, squinting at him and biting back a smile. Too late he'd already seen it. "Don't stop digging."

"Have to." He wheezed, clutching his chest. "Dying."

"Getting old?" Beckett questioned with a smirk, throwing her own digging apparatus to the ground.

A pick axe?

A pick axe that she had just shown up with and wielded like a pro?

Scary woman. Scary, hot, intriguing woman.

Castle watched as she puffed out a heavy breath, blew the hair away from her face and threw off her jacket. She drew something from the back pocket of her jeans and tangled her hair up in a high and slick looking ponytail.

Sweat dripped and ran down her face, taking trails of dirt with it and Castle smiled, smiled wider still enjoying the sight of her, the usually put together Detective Beckett, all sweaty and dirty and ...

Looking straight at him.

"Castle?"

"Mmmm?" He tried to school his face, tried to look anything but like he had been staring at her in all her disheveled glory.

He failed miserably.

Beckett rolled her eyes and reached for the shovel he was using to prop himself up, yanking the handle so he stumbled in the shallow grave looking hole they'd dug. He felt his knee buckle, couldn't control his downward spiral and suddenly found himself in her arms.

The weight of his body pushed her backwards and with instinct born in battle - and being around a clumsy writer - she spun them to one side, dropped the shovel before it could whack either of them and landed on her backside with Castle in her lap.

"Ooof."

"Ow."

Snuggled up with his arms around her shoulders and his head somehow cradled to her chest, Castle grimaced and braced for impact - or ear tug - only it never came.

He peeked one eye open and found her staring down at him, her lips pursed, clearly torn between the urge to berate him or burst out laughing. Whatever she saw on his face threw her more towards one than the other.

Beckett snorted, trying to hide her giggle, shoved his hand away from curve of her - oh oops - chest area and waited a beat for him to move. He didn't.

"Comfy?" She glared, hoping to press her point home.

"Very much so. In fact I think I could stay here all -"

"Get. Up. Castle!"

"Alright. Fine."

Lifting up as best he could, trying desperately not to use her chest area as leverage ... again. He wiggled, trying to ease himself back from her in the dark, confined space. A soft and shocked exclamation filled the air between them and Castle froze once more, turning wide eyes to Beckett as she gasped, her own lids slamming shut.

His head dropped and Castle stared down at his hand, brushing over the front of her shirt, hovering, waiting for his fingers to be bent backwards or snapped completely.

"Castle..."

He felt her breath quicken, and his lack of movement did nothing to stop the front of her shirt brushing his fingers again as she panted.

"Don't." She stammered, her eyes opening wide, "Don't. Stop."

Don't stop or Don't. Stop. He had no idea. Either way he remained frozen as their eyes met, and the seconds began to stretch out between them.

She wriggled, dug her heels into the dirt and arched her spine, drew him closer and twisted her hips. He grunted and she did it again, unblinking and staring straight at him.

"Castle," Beckett whispered breathlessly, "I can ... feel something."

So could he, something like electricity that had begun to sizzle between them. Tension like elastic pulled too tight just waiting to snap and twang and - she shuddered.

He felt the grip of her long slender fingers, tighten like a vice in the collar of his shirt. Her eyes locked with his, dark shadows in the pitch black night dancing over her face but completely unable to dull the shine of excitement.

"It's hard." She smiled, wide and with pleasure, and his mouth fell open in shock.

"I - It's a natural reaction to -"

Her face contorted, lips parting and grimacing, cheeks flaming and the fingers on his shirt released him only to curl in on themselves and thump him hard on the shoulder.

"Not that! God, Castle, I can feel the box."

His eyebrows shot skywards because surely if anyone could feel the box it would be -

"The treasure box."

Mmm, yes treasure... his eyes glazed over, lips lifting into a delightfully dirty smirk as his mind filled in the gaps in her conversation.

"Chest!"

Yup, he could still feel her chest, especially when she gasped and yelled at him like that, her skin all alive and jumping under his touch, like a live wire as they connected. And he was quite enjoying her being so forward about it all.

"Treasure chest. Jeeze, it's like trying to communicate with a horny teenage boy." She thumped him hard again, shifted a knee in warning.

"Horny?"

"And that's the part you focus on." She sat up, gave him no choice but to shift away from her, his hands pointing in warning at her angled knee cap.

"Get off me." She nudged him and Castle squeaked in fear.

"Stay still and I will, we're trying to find buried treasure not remove my family jewels." He inched backwards, protecting his baubles and scepter as he went, his eyes narrowed and trained on her the entire time, as if expecting a sneak attack.

Beckett ignored his joke, pulled her leg from between his and stroked over the muddy ground. "I think we found it."

"Wow, really?"

There was a long low noise of warning emitted from her throat, equal parts death threat and middle of the bed sexy as hell, that he startled at. Castle flung himself backwards, as gracelessly as the sound demanded, his back colliding with the dirt wall on the other side of their hole.

"Son of a - owww." He rubbed his elbow, but found his detective completely lacking in sympathy as she clambered to her knees and dug out the box.

"My god, Castle. It's really here." She raked through the dirt with her nails, outlined the edge of a metal container still partially buried. "Help me get it up?"

"Shouldn't that be my line?"

"Just because I left my gun in the car doesn't mean I won't pick axe you to death." She warned and the flare of her nostrils - fire demon eyeball glare - made him shut up, zip his lip, lock a padlock and throw away the key. He then mimed duct taping the lock, watched her sink her teeth into her lip and dropped his hands into his lap and sat mutely - literally.

It lasted about three seconds.

"If I didn't know better I would think you were planning on stealing the treasure and burying my mangled corpse in the hole I dug myself at your behest?" He gasped dramatically, a hand flying to his heart.

She grinned back at him, the threat vivid in the evil flare of her eyeballs, but she didn't say a word. Her eyes roamed his body, head to toe, assessing and scheming. Then Beckett tilted her head to one side and finally nodded as if convinced he would fit in the tight space.

"Wow, I should have written you as a calculating murderess shouldn't I?" He grinned back, sort of impressed, completely turned on.

"Will you just shut up and help me pull it out and no, not like that."

"Fine." He snarked and together they managed to find their knees, and enough space in the cramped hole to yank free the buried box.

They rose to their feet triumphant, each holding half of the metal tin. Their fingertips met at the sides, toes tip to tip in their shoes and the world around them entirely forgotten.

"We did it." Beckett crowed, flinging her arms wide around him and trapping the box and his hands between them. She squeezed him tight, and left him with no option other than to stand there and be clung to and breathe in the sweet, slightly fruity twang of sweat and exhilaration that clung to her skin.

And dirt. He could smell dirt when he inhaled at her neck.

Was it weird that that was really doing it for him? Probably a bit.

He didn't care.

She laughed and stepped back, her cheeks flushed and the box clutched to her chest and then she did the unthinkable and set the box aside to climb out of the hole.

"Hey, wait. We have to open it." He yelled, clambering after her, narrowly avoiding taking one of her spike heeled boots to the face when she flung her legs backwards and hoisted herself up.

Castle huffed, waited, let Beckett drag herself to freedom, and focused instead on thoroughly enjoying the view as she did.

"Um, no." She shook her head, as she stood up, pulled the box out of his sight and staring at him like he had lost his mind. "This is going back to its rightful owner."

"Yes, but how do we know who its rightful owner is if we don't open it?" Castle enthused, finally on his feet and chasing her around the hold as she gathered up their tools. "There could be anything in that box."

"Exactly."

"We just spent hours digging."

"I know."

"Hours in the dirt."

"I was there."

"And now I need to see what is inside that box, Beckett. Not want. Need!"

"That's why I'm going to open it in the car." She thrust the tools into his chest and turned on her heel.

"So for you to deny me, not to mention yourself, the chance to - wait, what?"

She turned, glancing at him over her shoulder with a sly grin, "You coming, Castle?"

He flew after her. Buried treasure and a sweaty, hot detective? Of course he was coming.