Eighteen.

AU in which both Castle and Beckett attend their prom, and it changes the course of both of their lives.

The timeline is (obviously) different, in that they're both the same age – Castle's just younger than he is in the show. A lot of the same things happen (ie, Alexis' birth, Johanna's death etc.), just on a different timeline.

Hopefully it makes sense. Enjoy :)

It's some kind of miracle that he even makes it to his senior prom.

A miracle comprised of multiple events that were influenced by a whole lot of luck – the headmaster being out of the office, he and his friends landing before of a senior teacher for putting a cow on the roof that has a sense of humour.

The man looks at them, at the kids beside him who could buy their way out of anything, and when his gaze settles on scholarship kid Richard Rodgers, he shrugs, lumping them all together.

They're given a warning.

So Rick heads to his locker, feeling infinitely lighter than he has in days.

He picks her up, like the dutiful gentleman he probably isn't, although truth be told, he isn't entirely sure what one would look like, so he thinks he's doing okay.

Audra looks gorgeous, in a prom queen kind of way, and everything is going great, until the end of the night when a slow song comes on and Harvey Samuels asks her to dance, and he can tell that she doesn't want to say no.

Of course not, because Harvey's the captain of the football team, and it's a walking cliché, but who cares, because that's when he sees her.

He didn't expect her to come, after all, Kate Beckett is far too cool for school sanctioned events, something she made clear when he leaned across the aisle between their desks in English Lit and asked whether she had plans for prom.

Her answer was along the lines of 'I'll set foot at prom when hell freezes over', so he sat back in his chair, nodding, sufficiently deterred.

But here she is, having arrived an hour and a half late, wearing a striking midnight blue dress, surveying the room with unprecedented apprehension.

His feet are moving towards her before his brain realises what's happening, and when he ends up in front of her the only words he can muster are "would you like to dance?"

She shrugs, and he figures that it's better than a no, so he holds out his hand, willing it not to tremor, especially when she takes it, following him to the dance floor.

He may have spent the last hour dancing with one of the most popular girls at their school, but dancing with Kate Beckett, who is currently staring at their feet instead of at him, has him sweating with nerves. He isn't above admitting (to himself) that he finds her captivating, that he has for a while now.

"I didn't think you were coming to prom," he says, ducking his head to catch her eyes, and she looks up at him reluctantly.

"Neither did I," she huffs, and he chuckles, sensing that her appearance probably wasn't her idea.

"Well, I'm glad you're here," he tells her, smiling, and she narrows her eyes.

"Where's your date? Shouldn't you be dancing with her?" She asks, trying to change the subject, and it's his turn to shrug, glancing around the room for Audra, finding her in Harvey's arms.

"I'd rather be here dancing with you," he says, surprised by the truth of the statement.

She blushes, avoiding his gaze under the pretence of surveying the crowd, but she can't do it forever, her eyes eventually returning to his.

"Your friends didn't come?" He asks, knowing the answer.

He's well aware of just who inhabits the gymnasium, knowing that the girls that Kate considers friends aren't present. Madison Queller and a few others who like to hang off their every word.

They're popular, but not in the traditional way. They don't participate in school activities, they aren't cheerleaders, they aren't part of any sports teams.

They're smart, always hovering around the top of their class, but they don't spend their time studying, at least not visibly.

They aren't snobs, he knows Madison is a scholarship kid like him, and they don't value money above any other redeeming quality, like so many of their classmates.

They're a different kind of cool, hosting their own small gatherings, instead of attending the usual parties like the majority of their class.

There's never a lack of boys willing to follow them around school – the two of them usually have boyfriends with them when they saunter through the halls, and although he has had his eye on Kate Beckett for longer than he'd willingly admit, he's never been lucky enough to garner her attention.

It's not as if she has any discernible type.

He's seen her with jocks, with nerds – he's seen her pressed between a car door and a longhaired idiot with a guitar case on his back who was not a student in the school parking lot – so he knows he hasn't been overlooked because he isn't her type.

"I heard you almost missed out on this whole thing," she says, waving her hand at the scene with disdain.

He smirks. "Yeah."

She scowls at him, and it strikes him, perhaps this is the reason she hasn't given him the time of day until now; until he cornered her and gave her an excuse not to weave her way through the crowd alone.

"C'mon, it was pretty funny," he says, and she rolls her eyes.

"It was stupid," she disagrees, and his grip on her hips tightens slightly, afraid she's about to walk away.

So she's not impressed by the cow – that's okay.

But then he thinks back to the disapproving scowl on her face when he had been called to the headmaster's office for putting a can of tuna in the man's air vents, even though they never proved it was him, and it hits him. He's the class clown – a persona he grabbed with both hands because it meant not being the poor scholarship kid, and she doesn't like the class clown. He can work with that.

"It was stupid," he allows, and her eyes flick up to his, and he smiles. Progress.

"But we're not here for much longer."

"No," she agrees, as the song swells at the bridge, reminding him that he doesn't have long.

"Soon we'll all be all over the country, going wherever life takes us."

"Mmm," she agrees softly, as he moves slowly.

Her eyes widen when his lips hover a breath away from hers, so close he feels her intake of breath before he moves closer.

It's soft, and chaste, and it takes all of his self-control not to push further. He pulls away after a moment, unsure, searching her face for some sort of clue as to her reaction.

Her breath hitches, just slightly, and her eyes flutter open slowly, and he smiles at her, hopeful.

Before she can stop herself, she's grinning back at him as the music comes to an end, and their classmates shuffle, desperate to move on to the real reason for all the excitement and anticipation – the after parties.

His hands don't move, though, still attached firmly to her hips, desperate not to let this moment go.

She sees this though, the smile on her face becoming a playful smirk as she withdraws her hands from around his neck, slipping one of them between his hand and her hip, her fingers tangling with his as she tugs him towards the exit.

"Well, Rodgers, you coming?"

He isn't entirely sure how this happened, but he isn't about to question it.

She promised him an after party, although warning that it won't be what he's expecting. But that's okay, because she'll be there.

She hails a cab, and he tries desperately to remember how much money he has in his wallet as he watches the meter rise.

It's apparently all for nothing, though, because before he can reach for his wallet she's handing cash to the driver and ushering him out the door.

"You didn't have to do that," he says, annoyed. "I had it covered."

"Shut up," she tells him, with another eye roll, pulling his hand along towards a modest apartment building. "I don't need you paying for me just because I'm a girl," she grouses, and he swallows, realising too slowly that while he was upset that she was assuming him poor because he's a scholarship kid, she was upset that he was assuming her helpless because of her gender.

He lets it go, though, because too soon they're climbing stairs and she's opening the door to apartment 21 as if she lives there.

When the door swings open to reveal Madison Queller in the kitchen and a smattering of other people he doesn't recognise, it makes much more sense.

Kate and Maddie are just about inseparable, have been for as long as he can remember either of them, save for the few weeks earlier in the year that he heard had something to do with Brent Edwards.

"Becks," she says, grinning slyly, and Kate rolls her eyes.

Good, he's not the only one to be on the receiving end of the Beckett eye roll. Even better, Kate seems to like Maddie, so maybe there's hope for him.

"Rick Rodgers." Maddie's still grinning as she greets him, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Make yourself at home, my mother won't be home for hours."

He nods, as Kate grabs two beers from the sink filled with ice and hands him one, before joining the group on the floor.

He follows her helplessly, because he isn't sure what else to do.

Usually he's the life of the party, knows exactly how to have a good time, but this is a completely different scene.

The others are dressed casually, and he loosens his tie and shucks his jacket in an attempt to dress down.

Before he can contemplate what to do with them Kate's mouth is at his ear, her breath making his whole body tingle.

"I'm going to get changed," she whispers, holding her hands out, indicating towards his jacket and tie, and he nods, but instead of handing them over, he stands, indicating that he'll follow her.

She huffs but leads him through the small apartment to the room he assumes to be Maddie's.

"You can leave them on the bed," she tells him, and he sets the jacket and tie down carefully as he watches Kate ransack Maddie's closet.

"Won't she mind?" He asks, and Kate just laughs.

"Half the stuff in here is mine anyway," she says, lifting a black leather jacket and throwing it to him.

"Put that with your stuff," she tells him as she pulls out a blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

He's waiting for her to tell him to leave, but instead she turns, pointing to the back of her dress.

"Little help?" She asks, and he stands quickly, more than willing.

He wills his to steady as he pulls the zipper down, exposing inch after inch of bare skin, and he can't help but run his other hand down her spine, following the path of the zipper.

She trembles slightly, pulling the t-shirt over her head, and stepping out of the dress, laying it on Maddie's desk chair before slipping on the jeans, giving him ample time to appreciate her legs, legs longer than he could fathom, and the black panties that he stares at for a moment too long.

Before he can even come up with a witty remark to diffuse the moment, she's returning to the living room.

He'd rather have her all to himself, but she seems set in her plans, and he figures that this is better than being somewhere else, without her.

They re-join the group, and he doesn't miss the smirk on Maddie's face at their return, and neither does Kate, if the faint blush that taints her cheeks is any indication.

Kate has one hand wrapped around the beer she's nursing and another around his thigh, and he comes to realise that this was a very good choice, far better than any other party he could have attended.

She rubs her thumb along the inside of his thigh and he tries everything he can think of not to react, and if the slight smirk on her face is any indication, she's doing this on purpose.

The conversation is lazy, passed mostly between Maddie and two of the other girls, Kate too preoccupied with trying to kill him, apparently, to contribute, and he's too busy trying not to show everyone in the room just how much he wants her.

Before long people start to filter out, as he realises that they have been here for hours, while he and Kate were at prom, and every time he contemplates leaving her hand tightens on his thigh and he's quite content to stay.

Maddie stands to clear away all the bottles and cups, leaving him alone with Kate for the first time since he helped her out of that dress.

If it were anyone else he'd be making a pass by now, trying to will her to come home with him, because he knows for a fact that his mother is out and probably won't be home until late morning.

But Kate has this air about her, and he knows she wouldn't respond well to any of his usual moves, so he lets her take the lead, something he's learning she appreciates.

"Don't you have some sort of curfew?" He inquires, and she smiles.

"I told my parents I was staying here tonight," she says, glancing at Maddie. "Why, are your parents expecting you home?"

He shakes his head, realising just how little they really know about each other, and how much he wants that to change.

"My mother won't be home until tomorrow."

He doesn't mean for it to sound like a come on or an invitation, but her eyes spark and he reconsiders. Maybe he did mean for it to be an invitation.

But he won't push, because this isn't hooking up with just anyone on prom night, this is Kate Beckett, and he has wanted her for a while, and he wants her for more than one drunken prom night cliché.

"You guys getting out of here anytime soon?" Maddie interrupts, and he clears his throat.

"Uh-" he begins, and Kate stands decisively.

"What, you don't want us to stay?" she teases her friend, nudging her elbow into Maddie's ribs as she walks down the corridor, returning with her dress and the leather jacket, as well as his jacket and tie.

Maddie steals her away, whispers a few words in Kate's ear that makes her cheeks flush red.

"Lets go," she whispers to him, passing him his clothes, and they're out the door before he can protest.

The cab ride to his place isn't long, and she lets him pay without making an issue of it. He spends the entire time trying to come up with a way to tell her that he doesn't want to sleep with her, not tonight, without it sounding like he doesn't want to sleep with her at all.

In fact, he'd very much like to, but he'd like to make sure it's not a singular occurrence, so he thinks he should postpone until he knows a little more about her than the little he has garnered from this whirlwind adventure.

Had they not just come from Maddie's, he might have been embarrassed by the modest apartment he calls home.

But given that Kate is friends with Maddie, seeming to care less that she doesn't have the money that the majority of the kids at their school do, he thinks that maybe she won't judge him for the small two bedroom apartment he and his mother inhabit.

He remembers the look of disdain that Eddie Campbell had given him years ago when he'd invited him over, the way he'd teased him mercilessly for being poor. Remembers it being the last time he invited anyone from school over.

But Kate is different, he's sure.

So he unlocks the apartment with shaky fingers, offering her a drink as she glances around at the tattered old couch, the small TV.

"I'm okay," she says, dropping her stuff on the couch and turning to him, pressing a kiss to his lips. It's soft and slow, and not unlike the one they shared on the dance floor, and he can't believe this is only their second kiss.

"Where's your room?" She asks, a predatory twinkle in her eye, and he presses his lips together, still unable to formulate a better way to phrase his thoughts.

"I don't want to sleep with you tonight," he says softly, avoiding her gaze for as long as he can. When his eyes reach hers, she's smiling playfully.

"You think I'm that easy, Rick?" She asks, teasing, and he lets out a sigh of relief – she's not upset, and she's not leaving.

"No," he stammers. "Definitely not."

Evidently, she's pleased with his stumbling response.

"But I know how this looks, and I know how pathetic it is, but I want to take you out, I want to know you, I don't just want tonight."

He's still nervous, because he's never said this before – he's never felt like this before. He's always been more than happy to screw any girl who was willing to have him, despite knowing little about them.

"Not pathetic," she disagrees, now too nervous to meet his eyes. "Sweet."

He beams. "Sweet?"

"Don't push it, Rick," she warns him, ask if she knows he can't help himself – he has to know what other complimentary adjectives she has to describe him.

She also seems to know that her warning would do little to deter him, so she shuts him up with a kiss, a kiss far more insistent than the last two, and he loses himself in the feel of her lips against his.

It escalates quickly, and he has to pull away, panting.

She's flushed, her hair falling from the sophisticated twist it was in for the dance, and he can't help but move his fingers through her curls, letting them fall around her shoulders and placing the pins he removes on the counter.

She's breathtaking, her chest rising and falling quickly as she regains her breath, her hair framing her face perfectly.

"It's late," he states, not needing to glance at the clock to confirm it. "I can sleep on the couch," he offers, with little conviction, thankful when she laughs the suggestion off, following him to his room.

He's never had a girl in his room before, but she doesn't seem fazed by his nerves, or the clothes on the floor or the unmade bed, simply taking off her shoes and peeling off the jeans, slipping between the sheets.

He's staring, he knows, and she's looking at him with a look that is halfway between amused and expectant, so he kicks off his shoes, slips out of the dress pants, carefully laying them on his desk and unbuttoning his shirt quickly, not missing the way she appreciates the view. He joins her, feeling suddenly unsure.

He lies flat on his back, clad in only boxers, careful not to do anything she might kill him for, or worse, that might make her get up and leave, and she laughs at him – legitimately laughs, before wrapping an arm around his torso and burrowing her head against his chest.

He freezes, taking a moment to carefully slip a hand around her, pressing a kiss to her head.

She hums contentedly, turning her face up to him.

"Wasn't expecting the night to end like this," she admits, her voice soft and somehow vulnerable.

"Me either," he confesses, slowly allowing himself to breathe, to get comfortable as he appreciates the feeling of her body pressed against him, her bare legs tangling with his.

"Regrets?" she asks, her eyes wide and vulnerable, and he shakes his head, ever so slightly.

"None."

"Me either," she says, and he smiles, beyond content.

Suddenly he's that boy following Kate Beckett around, and he doesn't even care that his friends are giving him crap about it, because every moment they're even kind of alone she presses her lips to his, desperate and wanting, and he's addicted.

He takes her out for the first time a week after prom, and he should have realised that she wouldn't be the one to answer the door, but when he's greeted by a man that must be her father, and he gulps, unsure of what to say.

He's never taken a girl on a date before.

He has met up with them, been invited to their empty penthouses, hooked up at more than one party, but this is the first time a father has stared him down at the door. He holds out a sweating hand that he can't seem to stop from shaking, stammering out his name.

"Dad," he hears, and his eyes light up, because he remembers suddenly that Kate is the reason he's here, that she's the prize following the withering stare and bone crushing handshake.

"Katie," the man says warily. "I was just inviting the young man in."

Her father steps aside, allowing him to pass, and he does so slowly, glancing around for Kate.

"Jim Beckett," the man introduces himself, and he nods.

"Nice to meet you."

"You weren't scaring the boy away, were you?" comes a female voice that is not Kate's, and the older woman appears behind her husband, looking so much like Kate it makes him falter.

"Rick – Richard – Rodgers," he says, offering his now bruised hand (he's almost sure) to the woman, who nods, taking it gently.

"Johanna," she says, smiling warmly, as Kate appears, a flurry of energy.

"We need to get going," she says, and he's about to say that they're in no rush, until his brain catches up to his mouth and he realises that she's giving him an out, so he simply nods.

"It was nice to meet you," he repeats, allowing Kate to usher him out the door, breathing a sigh of relief once they're on the other side.

"I'm sorry," she says, and he smiles, as his nerves dissipate.

"It's okay," he assures her. "You look beautiful."

She's realised that he adores her hair when it's out, flowing around her face and he can bury his hands in it, and he can't help but do just that now, kissing her swiftly.

He takes her out for burgers, and he realises too late that maybe it was a mistake.

He remembers taking Susie Haywood out and how she didn't eat anything other than salad, but he's immediately relieved when Kate orders a double cheeseburger with fries and a milkshake, telling him to order his own because she isn't sharing.

He ends up giving half of his milkshake to her when she's eyeing it off, and they walk hand in hand back to her apartment.

She surprises him by kissing him in the middle of the street, even with people across the street that could see them, and he knows something's coming.

"My dad wants you to come in for dessert," she admits, and he looks at her, confused. "He wants to interrogate you," she explains, and he nods, sufficiently afraid.

"You don't have to though, I'll just say I didn't invite you."

He smiles, pulling her close for another kiss. She wants him to come in, he can tell. She wants him to suffer through whatever her father has planned, because her father might just respect him for not running away.

"I'd do anything for you," he says, the truth in the admission undeniable. He thinks maybe it's too soon, that he's going to scare her, but she grins so wide he's afraid her face might split in two, taking his hand.

"Thank you."

Time flies in a blur of beautifully sweet memories, and it hits him later than it does her that this thing they have has a clock on it.

She's been accepted to Stanford, and he's staying in New York, and she drops a few comments about 'enjoying it while we can' before it hits home for him.

They've spent every moment since prom together – he's met her parents, and she's met his mother.

He's falling hopelessly for her, and he doesn't want to let her go.

He tries to tell her that it's okay, that they can make it work from opposite ends of the country, but she's all practical and realistic, telling him not to be crazy, and that it would never work.

It's the after graduation, standing outside the hall that she does it.

She kisses him, her lips harsh and unforgiving against his own, before she pulls away swiftly.

"I'm flying out tonight," she whispers, and he frowns, confused, because that makes no sense.

"But we still have summer-"

She shakes her head, and it hits him like a freight train.

She's really doing this.

"I'm gunna spend the summer with my cousin in San Francisco," she says softly.

"But Kate-"

She cuts him off with a finger to his lips, and that's when he sees the tears in her eyes, mirroring the ones in his.

"I can't have the summer be one drawn out goodbye," she says, apology in her eyes. "I'm sorry."

She's turning away from him, and the words slip out before he can stop them.

"But I love you."

He sees her footing falter at the words, and he prays that she'll turn back to him, but she doesn't, continuing her path back to the crowd, leaving him in the dark.

oOoOo

Life goes on, slowly but surely.

His mother assures him that high school love isn't supposed to last forever, and he learns to let her go.

The next few years are a blur of parties and writing and Kyra, and when he watches her leave him much like Kate did he wonders if any woman he loves will ever stay.

He falls for Meredith easily, because she's fun and not complicated, and she's much like him.

Too much like him, it turns out, and yet also not enough like him, because despite the big words and lofty promises she made when she got pregnant, after Alexis is born it becomes clear that she isn't about to step up and be a parent like he is. The relationship ends soon after that becomes clear, and he finds that Alexis is enough, for now.

He almost disregards the ten-year reunion invitation when he opens the mail.

But he can't help but think back to a certain dark haired girl that held his heart in her hands for far longer than she ever knew, and he sticks it on the fridge, contemplative.

He mentions it in passing to his mother, still undecided as to whether he'll attend, and she offers to watch Alexis, if he wants to go.

He knows he had her in mind as a convenient excuse if he wanted to back out, but he thinks of Kate, still eighteen and beautiful in his mind, and he accepts his mother's offer.

He regrets the decision when he finds himself in the old gym, scanning the crowd for her, only to be disappointed.

It's all too familiar, and he makes small talk with his classmates; the women who never gave him the time of day in high school but who are now suddenly impressed by his fame and money, and he sighs, wishing he'd just stayed home with Alexis.

He's halfway through explaining that he needs to get home to his daughter when he sees her, entering the gym cautiously, the same apprehension in her eyes that was there ten years ago.

He doesn't even finish the conversation, drawn to her instantly, as always.

"Kate," he whispers, trying not to let on just how much he wanted to see her, when she breaks into a smile.

"Rick."

He hugs her awkwardly, until she gives in, relaxing into his arms, and he pulls back to look at her properly.

She's guarded, and okay, she's not eighteen anymore, but there's a darkness to her, a haunted look in her eyes that breaks his heart before he even knows the reason for it.

He glances at the room filled with their classmates, at Susie Haywood, who looks like she wants to approach him, and looks at Kate.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asks, hopeful, because it's a risk and he knows it.

Just because he came here with one person in mind doesn't mean she didn't come to catch up with Maddie, or any of her other friends.

"Please."

The word is a desperate plea, and he slips a hand to the small of her back, guiding her towards the exit.

They find themselves in the dimly lit quad, and he sits on a bench, and she joins him after pausing.

There's so much he wanted to ask her – so many questions he had before he saw her, but now only one seems pertinent.

"What happened, Kate?" He asks, his heart breaking for her as she forces a smile, tears in her eyes when she looks at him.

"My mother…" she trails off, unable to finish.

His mind is filling in the blanks with all sorts of possibilities, and he pulls her to him, holding her as she continues.

"It's been eight years, I don't know why I'm…"

She's a wreck, breaking before his very eyes, and he holds her tightly, because he can't bear to see the look on her face.

"But you knew her," she explains, and he nods, the movement restricted by her heard on his shoulder. The past tense gives it away; any hope he had disappearing.

"She was killed," she says, and he tries to disguise the silent gasp. "Murdered."

"Oh, Kate," he whispers, tears in his own eyes now, because she's right, he did know her mother.

Johanna Beckett was kind, almost to a fault. She fought for the little guy, she fought for justice, and she always gave him a fair chance.

She talked her husband down on more than one occasion when Jim wasn't pleased at the idea of his little girl spending so much time with him.

"My father didn't take it well," she admits, her voice small and so much like Alexis' when she needs him to check under the bed for monsters, even though she declares herself too old to be scared anymore.

"But he's okay now. He's been sober three years."

She pulls away suddenly, and he swipes at his eyes, embarrassed.

It may have been a short-lived high school romance, but he loved this woman in his arms, loved her family.

"But tell me about you," she pleads, wiping her own tears away. "What have you been doing for the last ten years?"

The look on her face tells him she already knows, so he foregoes the obvious, the name change, the books, and he reaches for his wallet.

"This is Alexis," he tells her, pride creeping into his voice as he hands her the photo. "She's five."

She smiles through her tears. "She's gorgeous, Rick."

He knows his divorce was publicised, that the only thing he's been careful to keep from the claws of the media is Alexis, but he says it anyway.

"It's just the two of us," he explains, and she nods, clearly already having known.

"So just how much do you know?" He teases, glad to see the smile back and the tears fading.

"They're amazing, Rick," she says. "Your books, your words."

He blushes under the praise for the first time in years. The words mean more coming from her, and she knows it.

"What about you? You a big shot lawyer yet?"

He realises too late that it was the wrong thing to say, because her face falls, and he remembers that her dreams were rooted in following her mother's footsteps.

She's pressing something into his hand, and he frowns, breaking her gaze to see the NYPD badge in his hands.

"No way," he says, his face lighting up. "That is so hot."

She rolls her eyes, slipping the badge back onto her belt.

"Did you bring your gun? How about your handcuffs?" He asks, and she laughs, standing.

He's confused by the movement, but she holds out her hand.

"My handcuffs are at home, Castle," she says, trying out his new name teasingly, because she's always known him as Rodgers, but he doesn't care, because the first part of the sentence has him on his feet before she can take it back.

"Is this a good idea?" He asks, after she shuts the door, pressing him against it with an insistent kiss.

They both know where this is going, and she laughs at him, and he doesn't care if the sound is directed at him, it's just so good to hear it.

"Who knows," she admits, stealing a quick kiss before continuing. "But maybe we should find out."

He can't manage to respond, at least with not with something intelligible, because her mouth is on his, and nothing has ever felt this right.

She's draped over him, pressing kisses to his chest every so often and he revels in the feeling, knowing it's fleeting.

"I have to get home to Alexis," he says, running a hand through her short hair, still trying to get used to the change.

She rolls off him, pulling the sheet up with her as she sits up against the headboard.

"I don't want to go," he tries to tell her, because he doesn't want her to think this was some one-night stand. He's well aware at how the media portrays him, even if it's far from the truth. Stay at home dad doesn't sell like playboy does, apparently, so he makes his appearances, goes home with the occasional socialite and keeps Black Pawn happy.

"I understand," she says, but the new Kate is now firmly in place, the one he can't read as well, the hardened cop with schooled features, the one he'll have to learn.

"Can I see you tomorrow?" He asks, and she bites her lip, looking to him before answering.

"I have to work."

"Okay," he says, nodding. "When do you get off?"

"I'll call you," she says, and he looks at her, desperate to be able to translate the way she stares at him impassively, but he can't.

"Please do," he says, scribbling his number on a notepad on her nightstand.

He dresses quickly, pressing a kiss to her temple before heading for the door.

"Until tomorrow," he offers, and she shakes her head at him, but there's a small smile playing on her lips.

"Goodnight, Rick."

He's never been more thankful for the connections that come with his fame.

All it takes is a few phone calls, and he has all the information he needs.

He's not dumb enough to go empty handed, so he stands in the elevator of the twelfth precinct with four lattes, because apparently there are two other detectives on her team.

He's thankful that he sees her upon exiting the elevator – he doesn't have to ask one of the other cops to direct him. Instead, he crosses the bullpen, landing right in front of her desk with the cardboard tray of coffees in his hand.

"Detective," he says, smirking, enjoying the use of her title.

"What are you doing here?" She hisses, ignoring the coffee he's holding out to her. "I'm working."

"I know," he says. "Figured you could probably use a break."

He's beaming at her purposefully, trying to make it impossible for her to turn him down, but she's not going for it.

"I said I'd call you," she says, her voice quiet yet deadly. He's suddenly aware of how suspects must feel when up against Detective Beckett.

"I didn't want to wait," he returns, and he knows he has her, because her face tightens, and he knows he made the right decision. She wasn't going to call. Well, maybe she was, but she was going to talk herself out of it.

"We got the traffic cam footage, Beckett," a booming voice calls across the bullpen, and he turns to see two men headed straight for them.

Esposito and Ryan, if his contacts know anything.

"Who's this?"

Beckett looks livid, and he smirks, enjoying it before she has the chance to get angry with him.

"Coffee?" He inquires, holding out the cups to the two detectives, and they accept it cautiously.

"Ryan, Espo, this is Richard Castle," Kate says, reluctantly introducing them.

"Castle?" Ryan verifies, a knowing smile on his lips. "The writer."

"That's me," he affirms, as Kate interrupts.

"He was just leaving," she says, looking to him purposefully. "We've got work to do."

"I don't mind waiting," he tells her. "I'd love to see you in action."

She's glaring now, not even censoring it for her colleagues.

"Would you give us a minute?" She asks Ryan and Esposito.

Esposito nods, and Ryan gives him a sympathetic glance before they scurry off.

"You can't do this," she says, frustrated. "I have a job to do."

"But-"

"I'll take lunch in an hour and a half," she says, glancing at the bulky watch on her wrist that he recognises as her father's.

"There's a diner across the street, can I meet you there?"

He nods quickly, thankful for the compromise, anything really, that means he'll see her again.

He descends the elevator, checking his phone to see he has five missed calls from his mother and his heart is in his throat as he calls her back, too impatient to listen to the voicemail.

"Is everything okay?" He demands, the moment she answers the phone.

"Everything's fine, Alexis is fine," she tells him, and he swallows, relief flooding through him. "She's just a bit upset," she explains, and he knows immediately the problem.

His daughter isn't used to spending time away from him.

He'd barely seen her this morning before dropping her at her grandmother's so he could run after Kate, and given that it was followed by last night, he knows it's separation anxiety.

He's in a cab to his mother's before he can stop himself, because even though he knows it probably isn't healthy, he can't deny Alexis anything, least of all a parent when she wants one.

She's already down a mother.

So he takes her with him to the diner that Kate described – Remy's – getting them a table and ordering Alexis a milkshake. She's babbling excitedly when Kate enters the diner, her eyes meeting his immediately, and her gaze faltering when she sees Alexis beside him.

He doesn't like introducing Alexis to women he's seeing.

He doesn't do it, at all.

Mostly his relationships are short-lived, so it isn't an issue, but he didn't even give this a second thought. All he knew was that Alexis needed him, and that Kate was giving him a chance, meeting him for lunch, and he wasn't about to throw it away.

Despite the falter, she strides towards them, slipping into the booth.

Alexis is confused, looking between Kate and himself, and he goes to introduce them, but Kate beats him to it.

"Hi, Alexis, I'm Kate," she says, smiling at his daughter widely, and putting her at ease almost immediately.

Alexis says hello shyly, and he smiles encouragingly at his daughter.

She's so outgoing, a complete force of nature with himself and his mother, but with strangers, she's as shy as anything.

"I had to pick her up," he explains, and Kate nods, but he can tell she's thrown.

"What kind of milkshake did you get?" She inquires, and Alexis blushes at the attention.

"Strawberry," she answers, and Kate grins.

"That's the best kind," she says, and Alexis nods, as the waitress returns.

They order quickly, and he turns to Kate, having found the perfect way to see her again, without pushing for too much too quickly.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?" He asks, and her eyes flit between him and Alexis.

"Why?"

"Daddy's having a party," Alexis pipes up, and he tries to supress a grin at his daughter. She's too cute to deny, that's something he knows well. If she's on his side, there's no way Kate can say no.

"It's a book release party," he explains. "I'd love for you to come."

She's actually thinking about it, which means she doesn't have work, or a real reason to decline.

"Please," he says, and his daughter parrots the word, and he knows she's done for.

"Okay," she relents. "I'll be there."

She's called back to work when she's halfway through her burger, and she finishes it off quickly, apologetic.

"I really have to go," she says, standing. "The fries are all yours, Alexis," she says, and he marvels at her perceptiveness, knowing that Alexis had been eyeing them off, too polite to ask for one after not ordering any when asked.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" He verifies, and she nods.

"Tomorrow."

He watches her leave, as Alexis munches happily on the fries.

"I like her," Alexis says, and he chuckles.

"Cupboard love," he says, gesturing to her fries, but the saying goes over her head. "Will she play with me at the party?" She asks, and he shrugs.

"I'm not sure, pumpkin. Maybe if you ask her."

Alexis nods, thoughtful, and he steals one of her fries, making her gasp.

"They're mine, daddy, you didn't order any and Kate gave them to me."

He smiles at his daughter, returning the stolen fry to her plate and laughing.

"All yours."

The moment he sees her, he excuses himself from his conversation, hoping to have a conversation with her before Alexis attaches herself to the woman.

Since the diner, Kate has been a constant topic of conversation since yesterday, Alexis desperate to see the detective again, and he realises that it was probably a mistake to introduce them when he's not sure Kate wants this.

"You look amazing," he says appreciatively, and she rolls her eyes.

"Don't think I don't know that you used your daughter to get me here," she says, and he gasps, pretending to be horrified at the insinuation.

"I did no such thing."

She smiles, surveying the crowd, the throngs of people no doubt wanting something from him, and she bites her lip.

"Can we talk? A little more privately?"

She's expecting him to decline, it's written all over her face, but he nods, gesturing to the door.

He leads them to the stairwell, and they stop between floors.

"Where's Alexis?"

"Inside," he answers. "My mother's watching her."

She nods, and he can see that she's conflicted.

He wants to tell her that his daughter loves her, that he hasn't introduced Alexis to a woman in his life before, and that she's already attached, but he knows it isn't fair to put that kind of pressure on her.

It's been years since they've dated; they're both different people now, that he knows. Their lives are different, and maybe they wouldn't fit together nicely.

Maybe it was a one-night stand, a way to memorialise a love that was meant to stay in the past, but God help him, he can't leave it at that.

He kisses her then, because if she's about to leave him again, he wants one last kiss, a kiss that isn't tainted with goodbye, like the one she gave him before she left for California.

"Rick," she groans, resting her forehead against his when he pulls away. "I'm not sure I can do this," she admits, and he can hear in her voice that the thought breaks her heart as much as it does his.

"Do what?" He wants to know. This isn't some huge, daunting commitment, it's a relationship, the prospect of a relationship that could be amazing, he knows it.

"I'm not the girl you knew, Rick, not anymore. I'm a wreck."

He exhales loudly, his breath mingling with hers.

"You're still Kate," he says with conviction. He knows it, she's still the girl he loved, deep inside, and yeah, maybe she's a little bit broken, but he doesn't care.

"I just want to give this a chance," he breathes. "Please."

She's trembling, and he just holds her tighter.

She blinks, schooling her features, and suddenly she's all put together Detective Beckett, and he's certain he's lost her, until she grins, that carefree smile that is so Kate, holding out her hand.

"You coming, Castle?" She teases. "It's your party."

He's never moved so fast in his life.

Thoughts? I'm new to writing Castle so I'd love to hear from you :)