Hey there readers. This 'short drabble' (as it was intended to be, before fate intervened) came about as the result of an anonymous request in my Tumblr ask box (see my profile for the link to my page). The prompt itself was, "Beckett has a cold and Castle notices and convinces her to go home and takes care of her," a topic which I know has been covered numerous times, but in any case, here is my stab at it. Naturally, it's slightly AU, set sometime between Once Upon A Crime and 47 Seconds.

So, Anon, this is for you.

And, if I might add a few other acknowledgements:

For Effie, because you make me strive to be better; and for Oshi, without whose hilariously terrible title suggestions I might never have come up with one I liked so much.

PS- If you catch the Prison Break reference in this story, I will adore you for eternity.

Enjoy.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know."

There was a brief moment wherein Castle thought she might actually ignore him, falling back on her tried-and-tested measure of feigning complete focus on her paperwork. After a second, however, she spoke up, her eyes never leaving the file.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Given the opening he'd been hoping for, Castle leaned closer, propping his chin on one hand as he watched her with amusement. "You know you make the absolute cutest noise ever when you're trying to suppress a sneeze? It's like a mouse coughing or something."

She gave a soft snort, licking her finger to flip the page. "Your talent for flattery is astounding."

His mind still half-caught on the finger-licking thing, he replied distractedly, "Hey, if I were trying to flatter you, I wouldn't be talking about your sneeze."

Pausing for the briefest moment, he tilted his head slightly to the side, his voice lowering unintentionally, giving his words a more intimate feel than he'd intended. "I'd be talking about the way the colour of your eyes tends to shift depending on your mood, or that small hint of a smile that plays around the corner of your mouth when you're thinking of something happy and don't think anyone is looking. I'd talk about the way you can convey a dozen different emotions just in the way you bite your lip, or how the sound of your laugh immediately draws the eyes of anyone in your vicinity."

In the silence that followed his words, Castle blinked, surprised at himself. Usually he tried to keep displays of his adoration to a minimum, but somehow that little speech had just slipped out. He could see she was as surprised as he was, if not more so; her hands had stilled on the desk, her pen loose in her grip, her gaze no longer seeming to see the file before her at all.

"If I wanted to be flattering, those are some of the things I would talk about," he finished, in what he hoped was a slightly more normal tone.

Then, as was his way, he abruptly shifted gears, adding brightly, "But regardless, my dear detective, right now I am simply being astute, putting together the clues with which you have presented me. And my diagnosis, based on my observations over the past hour or so, is that you are suffering from a case of acute rhinitis."

She shot him a brief look, and he could see the hint of relief in her eyes at the topic change, grateful to him for lightening the mood. Playing along, she adopted a mildly offended expression, folding her arms across her chest as she turned in her chair to face him.

"Did you just call me a rhino?"

"Nope. If I were going to go with some kind of safari comparison, you'd definitely be more of a gazelle, or perhaps a lioness," he pondered, then went on, "Hard to decide, really, considering you possess certain attributes of both. Perhaps you could be the hybrid offspring of some freak mating–"

Beckett rolled her eyes, turning back to her paperwork. "I think I'd have preferred the rhino."

Castle shook his head emphatically, holding up a hand. "You could never be a rhino. In any case, the point is moot, because I said rhinitis, not rhino. In other words, I have deduced that you, the invincible Kate Beckett, have a cold."

Beckett began clicking her pen repeatedly, a sure sign he was on target. Her eyes still fixed on the page– not taking in a single word, he was sure– she responded firmly, "Do not."

"The near empty box of tissues and constant sneezing suggest otherwise."

She shot him an irked look, then turned back to her paperwork, shuffling some pages with an air of determined indifference. "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. I'm fine."

"There are many levels of fine, Beckett. And if I'm any judge, you are currently in the stage that can only ascend to a higher level by going home and sleeping this off."

"I'm not going home, Castle."

Leaning closer, Castle tilted his head, his eyes fixed on her face. "Why not? We have no case, and this paperwork is about as non-urgent as paperwork can get. Shouldn't you take the time now to rest and recover, in order to allow yourself to be at maximum potential when a case does come in?"

"Not happening, Castle," Beckett answered firmly, then added, "Besides, Gates would never authorize a day off simply because of a couple of sneezes."

Challenge accepted.

"I'll make you a bet," Castle said quickly, his eyes bright with the thrill of the challenge. "Give me five minutes in there with her, and if I can't get her to willingly send you home, I will buy you dinner. Two dinners, even, on the nights of your choosing. But, if I win, you have to let me take you home without putting up a fight."

"You really think she would listen to you?" Beckett retorted, but despite her mocking tone, he saw the briefest flicker of interest in her eyes. Like him, this was a bet she could just as happily win or lose.

Castle smirked. "I think I can make her see my view, yes."

"Make it two dinners and two lunches, and you have a deal."

He had to fight hard to keep the grin from his face. Leaning back slightly, he steepled his fingers, giving her a slow nod.

"You drive a hard bargain, Detective, but I'll take it. Deal."

###

"I still can't figure out which is more insane, the fact that you told her I had a potentially fatal disease needing immediate treatment, or that she didn't throw you out on your ass."

Looking across from the passenger seat– because apparently, even when he was practically kidnapping her he still wasn't allowed to drive her himself– Castle lifted his eyebrows, spreading his hands in a guiltless gesture.

"Well, I was telling the truth. Colds have actually killed people, you know, and the best way to prevent transmission is by treating the problem as soon as possible. I said nothing about those treatments having to be medical. And as for not throwing me out, that's because Gates can actually see reason. Unlike you, who can on occasion get a slightly overinflated idea of her own importance –"

"Excuse me–?"

Cutting her protest short, he went on, "Gates recognized that perhaps she could spare you today, allowing the brief loss of her top detective in order to keep her team optimal for when it is most needed to perform. If you ask me, it's smart team management."

Beckett huffed, her eyes determinedly sticking to the road.

"Yeah, well I don't recall ever asking you."

"Aw, don't look so down, Beckett. You know that they'll call you in a heartbeat if a body drops. Can't you just enjoy the idea of being free from paperwork for one day? Is the thought of relaxing at home really so bad?"

"Sitting alone in my apartment just isn't really my idea of a fun time," Beckett responded, keeping her tone carefully indifferent, but Castle knew better. One didn't spend four years working so closely with someone without learning how to read between the lines.

"I don't believe I ever once said anything about being alone."

She glanced at him then, clearly caught off-guard. "What?"

"Beckett, I expected more of you," Castle answered teasingly, adding, "You really thought I was just going to drop you off and leave it at that?"

When her expression told him that yes, that was exactly what she had thought, he gave a slow, exaggerated shake of his head, then told her, "If that's truly what you were expecting, then maybe you're actually sicker than I initially thought. Maybe you're delirious."

He didn't need to see the ensuing eye-roll to know that it happened.

"Castle, I am not delirious, and you honestly don't need to come in."

Ignoring her statement, Castle simply looked away, his eyes casually scanning the road in front of them. "Remember that time you told me to stop leaving my stuff in your desk?"

"...Yeah?"

"Is my stuff still there?"

Beckett shot him a sardonic look. "Only a whole damn drawer full."

Fighting to keep the smile off his face– and out of his voice– Castle responded, "So, based on what we know about me and the things you tell me not to do, do you really think I'm going to agree to leave you alone just because you tell me I don't need to come in?"

Looking over, he saw her eyes narrow, her lips pressing together in a manner he was very familiar with, suggesting she was doing her very best to look annoyed. It wasn't working.

"Has anyone told you that you're infuriating?"

This time, he didn't try to stop the grin. "Many people, on many different occasions. But most often you."

"Well, I'm telling you again now."

Still grinning, he shrugged, then turned to face the windshield.

"I can handle it. I have thick skin. Like a rhino."

"Yeah, and the brain of one too," she muttered, but even from the corner of his eye he could see the smile that she couldn't quite hide.

###

"This is ridiculous. I feel like a caterpillar."

Leaning over the couch to tuck the blanket more securely around her, Castle laughed.

"Well, you look as pretty as a butterfly, if that's any consolation."

Lifting his eyes to hers as he spoke, Castle realized abruptly just how close their faces were, both of them frozen for a moment as their gazes locked. That soft skin was so easily within his reach, their proximity such as that he could see each individual eyelash framing those large eyes, could see the tiny movement of each slightly dilated pupil set into that unique blended hazel that always made him think of wooded hills reflected in the depths of a crystal river.

As ever, it was Beckett that recovered first, making a face as she retorted, "I can't decide whether that makes me feel better or not."

Shaken from the spell, Castle cleared his throat slightly, then drew back, his movements carefully nonchalant.

"Well, while you're working on that, why don't you decide which movie you'd like better?"

Her eyes were still on him, watching him with and indecipherable expression, and it actually seemed to take a second for his words to get through. "What?"

"Movie, Beckett. Pick one," he said with a teasing patience, then added with a smirk, "Difficulty concentrating and inattention are further symptoms of serious illness, you know."

"I'm not–" she began, then apparently decided she was above rising to his bait. "Why am I picking a movie?"

"Confusion and forgetfulness? It's even worse than I thought," he prodded devilishly, putting a hand to his mouth in mock concern. Then, in a normal tone, he explained clearly, "You're picking a movie because we're going to watch one, Beckett."

"I know that, I'm just–" she cut herself off, not even seeming to know how she wanted to end that sentence. Shaking her head, she gave in. "Ugh, fine, whatever. What are the options?"

Grinning, Castle arrayed her choices before her, then left her to deliberate. Returning a minute later with a bottle of water, a packet of cold and flu tablets, and a box of tissues, he took a moment to set his bounty on the side table– all easily within her reach– before looking down to see her choice.

"The Sting?" he grinned, pleased. "Man, I was hoping you'd pick that."

Drawing her open laptop closer to the edge of the coffee table, Castle popped in the disk, trying not to read too deeply into the desktop image; a candid shot snapped by Lanie one night at Remy's, with Castle and the three detectives packed together in a booth, he and Beckett practically pressed together at the center of the shot.

Thankfully, the DVD menu appeared a moment later, blocking the image from view. Blinking, Castle forced his thoughts back to the present, back to safer topics with fewer unanswered questions attached.

"Beckett, I've said it to you a hundred times and I'm going to say it again. We've got to get you a TV for this place."

Beckett made a dismissive noise, lifting one foot from the couch to lightly prod the side of his thigh.

"And I've told you a hundred times, I don't need one. Plus, yours is always better for movie watching anyway."

"Well, considering what I paid for it, I can't really argue with that," Castle answered, hitting 'play' and leaning back against the cushions, letting out a sigh of contentment as his body sunk into the soft material. God, he loved this couch.

As the movie began, they fell into a comfortable silence, that special form of effortless companionship seen only in those completely at ease with one another.

After a while, however, he began to notice that Beckett suddenly seemed a little distracted, her attention wavering. Glancing over, he tilted his head in question.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, no, it's fine," she said falteringly, then met his eyes, seemingly unable to leave her question unasked. "I was just– You're really just going to sit here all day and watch movies with me?"

"No," Castle responded simply, seeing the tiny flicker in her eyes at his answer.

"Oh."

"At some point I plan on getting up and making you lunch," he corrected, giving her a small, lopsided smile. "Then, later, I intend to nap on this couch while you get some proper shut-eye in that bed of yours."

For a moment Beckett was silent, her eyes fixed on his, her brows raised. Then her expression seemed to clear, and she gave a slight nod.

"Okay."

Castle felt his own eyebrows rising at the ease of her acceptance, uncertain if he actually heard her correctly. She truly didn't mind him inviting himself over for the entire day, without even asking her what she wanted first?

Granted, he had done pretty much the same thing four years ago when he had barged his way into her life, but...

"Okay?" he questioned, still unsure.

Again, she simply nodded, her eyes moving back to the screen.

"Okay. Now shh, you're making us miss it."

###

"What are you doing?"

Crap.

Halfway through maneuvering Beckett's previously-sleeping body through her bedroom doorway, Castle froze, swallowing slightly as he looked down at the woman in his arms.

"I, uh... you fell asleep. I thought you might be more comfortable in bed."

Her head tilted back slightly, shifting against his shoulder, moving just enough for her to be able to look at his face. For a moment she simply looked at him– her eyes seeming far too perceptive for one that had been out cold barely ten seconds ago– then, to his surprise, she simply closed her eyes and turned her face back into his shoulder.

"Okay."

Feeling her snuggle back against him, his breath seemed to catch in his throat, the warmth of her body suddenly so much more noticeable against his chest. Moving as carefully as a tightrope walker, he slowly crossed the unfamiliar room– though, actually, it was remarkably similar to how he'd often pictured it– and gently placed her on the bed, determinedly pushing away the thoughts about just how big and comfortable it looked...

Clearing his throat, Castle carefully extricated his arms from around her, murmuring a quiet, "There you go," before straightening and stepping back.

Feeling like lingering any longer might be somehow inappropriate, Castle turned for the door, but was immediately halted by her voice.

"Are you leaving now?"

Turning to look down at her, Castle hesitated, trying to read her meaning. Was that a hint to go, or...?

"No, not until you want me to," he answered eventually, hoping to hell that she wouldn't make him go. "If it's okay, I'll just be out on the couch. You can wake me if you need anything."

There was silence for a beat before she spoke again. "You're too tall."

Blinking, he tilted his head. "I'm sorry?"

"For the couch," she explained, opening her eyes to look up at him. "You'll get a cricked neck."

Surely, that had to belong on the list of cutest things she'd ever said to him. Smiling, Castle gave a tiny shrug, trying to ignore the weird glowing feeling that seemed to be spreading slowly throughout his entire chest.

"I'll survive."

She regarded him silently for a moment, then took a slow breath. "You could just stay here."

"What?"

He'd misheard that. He had to have misheard that. Because no way had Katherine Beckett actually just invited him to share her bed. Not possible.

Seemingly correctly interpreting his stunned silence, Beckett's mouth quirked up at the corner, her voice sleepily amused.

"I don't need more than half a bed, Castle."

Reaching up to rub the back of his neck– why was his skin suddenly so hot?– Castle fixed his gaze on the floor, suddenly unable to meet that all-too-perceptive gaze. "You– you sure that's alright?"

She gave a tiny, breathy chuckle, the soft sound almost making him shiver. "Just lie down, Castle."

Resisting the urge to bite his knuckle– a response that she evoked in him on a fairly regular basis– Castle steeled himself and forced his feet to move, carrying him around to the other side of the bed. Then, carefully lowering himself down beside her– though practically as far from her as the bed would allow– Castle forced himself to relax, letting out a long, slow breath.

"Umm, you know, wake me if you need anything."

He could see her in his peripheral vision, her body resting comfortably on her left side, her back to him. At his words, he heard her respond with only a simple, "Mm-hmm," seemingly already well on her way back to whatever dream he'd disturbed her from.

Shifting around on his back for a moment, Castle twiddled his thumbs, then blurted, "Uh, maybe I should–"

Without bothering to look, she simply reached behind her, her hand sleepily patting his forearm where it lay across his stomach.

"Castle, stop thinking so hard and just go to sleep."

Letting out the breath that he hadn't realized he was holding, Castle gave a tiny nod that he knew she couldn't see.

"Right. Sorry."

Her arm retracted, her hand returning to tuck underneath her pillow, and he found he missed that brief touch far more than he should.

"Goodnight, Castle," she mumbled, and he presumed she said it mostly as a means of getting him to shut up, especially considering it was barely past 11 in the morning– but then, he supposed 'good morning' wouldn't have quite the desired message in this case.

Realizing he was still thinking too much, Castle gave a soft sigh, then closed his eyes.

"Goodnight, Kate."

###

"Castle."

"Mnghh?" Castle forced out, his eyebrows scrunching together as he worked to drag himself from sleep. God, he was so comfortable–

"Castle."

Wait, Beckett? Beckett was the one softly calling his name? Had he fallen asleep at the precinct again or–

Forcing an eye open, Castle looked directly into Beckett's amused gaze, his brain still playing catch-up.

"...Kate?"

"Welcome back to the realm of the living," she replied with a poorly-suppressed smile. "Seriously, Castle, you make a Snorlax look like a light sleeper."

Clenching his eyes shut, Castle took a deep breath, giving his brain a second to process. Firstly, he'd just slept with– beside– Kate Beckett, and secondly, she was not only apparently entirely cool with that prospect, but she was also making freaking Pokémon jokes.

Had he somehow woken up in a different dimension? Some kind of alternate universe? Because seriously, what else–

"Uh, Castle?"

"Yeah?" Castle answered, opening his eyes to find Beckett still watching him, laying on her back with her head angled toward him.

"Would you–?" she asked, gesturing towards her waist, and for a split second his brain went in a dozen different– and all highly inappropriate– directions before he actually glanced down, finally realizing that his arm was slung possessively across her stomach, his fingers tangled in the blanket that was still wrapped around her.

Snatching his arm back as though he'd been stung, Castle flushed, feeling slightly horrified.

"Uh, sorry."

To his surprise, Becket simply gave a tiny shrug. "It's fine, Castle. I'm just hungry. Want me to make us something?"

For a second he simply stared at her, speechless, before he suddenly blinked, attempting to recover.

"I've got a better idea. Chinese?"

Her smile in that moment was probably the best thing he'd ever seen.

"Sounds good," she answered warmly, as if he'd just given some kind of secret password and proved himself as part of the club.

Feeling inexplicably elated, Castle sat up, running a hand through his undoubtedly rumpled hair. "I'll make the call. The usual?"

She was watching him again, her eyes following the movement of his hand, a warmth in her gaze that was both new and familiar at the same time. When his eye caught hers, she gave a small smile, nodding slightly.

"Perfect."

Flashing her a grin, Castle fished his cell out of his pocket, then swung his legs off the bed. Pulling up the required contact, he headed for the door, his sock-covered feet– his shoes were still laying discarded by the couch somewhere– making no noise as he moved across the plush carpet.

Pausing at the door with the phone already ringing in his ear, he looked back, finding her eyes still fixed upon him. For a few silent moments they simply looked at one another, sharing a small, private smile– until a voice suddenly spoke up in his ear, forcing him to shift his focus, claiming his attention even as his eyes still lingered on the woman watching him from the bed.

"Yes, hi, I'd like to place an order..."

###

"Shotgun not."

The words had left her mouth so fast that they had practically almost preceded the knock at the door. Glancing over with a mock-scandalized expression, Castle put a hand theatrically over his heart.

"You're using shotgun not against me? Remember who taught it to you in the first place!"

Beckett simply smirked. "And whose mistake was that?"

Castle narrowed his eyes at her, fighting to hold back his own smile. "You're evil."

She shrugged. "Well, you know what they say, nice girls finish last."

"Oh?" he enquired, his voice lowering slightly as he played along. "And where do you finish?"

"Depends on where I start," she answered mischievously, then added, "Oh, and Castle? Not it."

Pausing, he shot her an incredulous look. "You already shotgunned not. Saying 'not it' is a little superfluous now, don't you think?"

Her eyes never leaving his, Beckett gave a tiny, one-sided shrug, wicked smile still in place.

"I like to cover all my bases."

Oh god. He was dying. She was killing him with that smoky voice and that coy expression and the fact that they were already on a goddamn bed together and–

A second, more insistent knock at the door saved him from himself.

Shifting her laptop onto the bed between them, Castle pushed himself to his feet, grumbling as he grabbed his jacket from its spot over the chair, digging in the pocket for his wallet.

"Better hurry up, Castle, or you'll have to chase them down," Beckett teased, watching him from the bed with her arms wrapped loosely around her knees.

"Yeah, yeah," Castle muttered darkly, "Enjoy your cushy bed while I venture out into the cold."

Beckett grinned. "My heart breaks for you."

"Sadist," he shot back, already halfway to the front door.

Barely a minute passed before he was back, now laden with several white takeout containers. Pausing in the doorway, he gave her a questioning look.

Smiling up at him, Beckett nodded, shifting to sit up against the headboard. Dropping his wallet haphazardly on the nightstand, he shuffled himself onto the bed, allowing Beckett to help extricate a few containers from his grip, a delicious mixture of aromas already filling the air around them.

Palming a pair of chopsticks, Beckett pushed her hair back from her face before carefully selecting her first target. Pausing with the carton only half-opened, she looked up at him, her voice soft.

"Thanks, Castle."

Still preoccupied with juggling the various containers of deliciousness, Castle shrugged it off. "It's nothing."

"No, Castle," Beckett said seriously, her tone instantly capturing his attention. Once his eyes met hers, she quietly continued, "Thank you. For today, for everything."

For a moment, he simply held her gaze, the two of them sharing a silent understanding. As was often the case, she broke off first, her eyes dropping back to her hands, the moment gone.

Knowing when it was time for him to lighten the mood, Castle gave a theatrical shrug, his expression devilish. "Eh. It was all just a devious plan to get you into bed."

Having returned to prying open her particularly divine-smelling container, Beckett snorted softly. "Yeah, because I'm just so appealing right now, with my constant sniffing and sneezing."

"Please," Castle scoffed, giving his chopsticks a careless wave. "Even on your very worst day you've still got more appeal than ninety-nine percent of the female population."

They both stilled at that, Beckett's surprised gaze lifting to his, stunned by the sincerity of his unintentional admission. This time it was he that was first to look away, attempting to hide the flush that seemed to be creeping up his neck. After a moment, he cleared his throat awkwardly, holding the container out to her as he forced his voice into something resembling casual cheerfulness.

"Have some of the pork. It's amazing."

Her eyes lingered on his face a moment longer, but he determinedly kept his own eyes averted, feigning a sudden great interest in the chicken. Eventually, her mouth quirked just slightly, her hand reaching for the proffered container.

"Thanks."

Neither acknowledged it when her fingers brushed his as she took the container; neither even allowed themselves to contemplate the meaning behind that lingering touch.

They were what they were; and what they were, neither of them knew.

But the thought on both their minds as they ate was that maybe, just maybe, they would have that answer sooner than they expected.

###

"Wow. That was..."

Leaning back against the headboard with a sigh, Castle finished for her. "Amazing?"

Blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes, Beckett gave a slow, satisfied nod. "Hell yeah."

"So, now what?" Castle asked, setting the last carton on the nightstand before slowly turning his head to look down at her. "You still tired? Another nap? Movie? Just tell me what you desire and it shall be yours."

She shifted, tilting her head to briefly meet his eye. Then, looking away, she gave her head a small shake. "Too wired to sleep again just yet. Wouldn't mind reading for a bit, though?"

Castle nodded, his body arching slightly as he lifted his arms in a stretch. "Sure thing. What are you reading? Want me to grab it for you?"

"No need," Beckett answered, and he could hear the grin in her voice, making him instantly curious. Looking over, he watched as she reached for the nightstand, pulling open the small drawer before removing whatever was inside and holding it up for him to see. "It's right here."

Looking at her face, then the novel in her hand, then back to her face again, Castle narrowed his eyes, certain that this was some kind of prank. "You're messing with me."

"Nope," Beckett laughed. "Started it again last night."

"Right," he said slowly, both flattered that she even thought Heat Wave warranted rereading and silently amazed that she would ever admit that to him freely. "Well, enjoy. I'm probably just gonna mess around on my phone for a bit."

Already buried in his book– a sight which, though he'd imagined it more than he'd care to admit, was having a much stronger effect on him than he'd anticipated– she simply waved a hand carelessly in his direction, answering with a vague, "Sure."

Blinking, Castle shook his head slightly, then slipped his phone out of his pocket. Surely he had some app addictive enough to make him forget about the fact that woman of his dreams– a phrase that, in this case, was actually both figurative and literal– was currently lying in bed beside him, reading one of his own books like it was mankind's greatest literary achievement since ancient civilizations started chiseling words onto rocks.

God, not even Angry Birds could save him right now.

Several minutes later, he was still staring blankly at his phone– trying to pretend like he wasn't watching her read out of the corner of his eye– when suddenly Beckett lowered the book, her face creased into a frustrated frown.

"It's no good."

"Excuse me?" Castle asked, one eyebrow lifting in mock indignation. "That's a New York Times bestseller you're holding."

"No, I mean the reading part, not the book itself," Beckett sighed, seemingly missing the teasing twinkle in his eye. Rubbing her forehead, she shut her eyes, blowing out a slow breath. "My eyes just can't seem to focus properly."

"Do you want to try sleeping a little more?" Castle asked gently, looking at her with concern. "Maybe it'd be best if you gave your eyes a bit of a rest."

"Resting them a bit would be good," Beckett conceded slowly, then faltered slightly, her fingers toying with the edge of the page as she hesitantly continued, "Uhm... would you... I mean, if you don't mind... would you read it for me?"

Holy hell. He must have fallen asleep, and all this right now was simply a dream. Honestly, to him it was literally the only explanation that could possibly make sense right now.

But, dream or not, there was one thing he did know for sure: he could never refuse Beckett anything.

"I– I mean, yeah," Castle answered after a moment, fighting not to trip over his own words. "Sure, I'll read it for you. What page are you on?"

Turning her head slightly in his direction, Beckett seemed to take a deep breath before looking up at him from beneath lowered lashes. "Um, actually... 102."

He would forever consider it a miracle that he didn't choke on his own tongue right there and then. Blinking furiously, Castle willed his heart to stop performing what appeared to be some kind of frenetic African drumming number against his ribcage, then gave a small cough to clear his suddenly constricted throat.

Steeling himself, he reached out a hand for the book, feeling like he was reaching for his own noose. Praying she wouldn't notice the tremble in his fingers, he took the novel, the well cared-for dustjacket feeling slick in his damp palms.

He could do this. There was nothing strange or stressful about this situation, nothing wrong with reading a sex scene he'd written between two characters based on himself and the woman he was secretly in love with out loud to that very woman.

Whilst lying together in a bed.

Yeah, nothing wrong at all.

"You know what– never mind, it's not important–" Beckett began, seeming just as nervous and discomfited as he felt.

"No, it's okay, I don't mind," Castle answered, cursing himself as he did. He should have just taken the out while he could. Instead, he took a slow breath and opened the book, thumbing through the pages.

"Right. Okay. 102," he said, then paused, trying not to think about the content of what he was about to read. "Uh... from the top?"

Beckett simply nodded, her small noise of confirmation barely audible.

Swallowing, Castle gave a small nod in response, then focused on the page. Determinedly ignoring tremor in his fingers and the frenzied pounding of his heart– and even more so, ignoring the very apparent presence of the woman on the bed beside him– he focused instead on the one thing that had always anchored him.

Words.

Forming his entire awareness around the words alone, Castle took a deep breath, and began to read.

He didn't get far.

For a couple of pages, he managed to handle it okay. His voice was smooth, even, and though the timbre was a shade lower and huskier than usual, he was able to sound almost like his normal storytelling self.

But as the scene on the couch unfolded, and the heat began to build, he knew he wasn't prepared for what came next, for narrating the moment Nikki and Rook crossed the very line he wasn't sure he and Beckett would ever breach.

Lowering the book with a grimace, he let out a sharp breath. "Kate, I'm sorry, I can't–"

Reaching over, she cut him short, her hands gently removing the novel from his grip. Turning away, she carefully laid it aside on the nightstand, and he felt as though all the air had been sucked from his lungs, his entire body frozen with apprehension as he waited on her reaction.

Then, she turned back to face him, her eyes meeting his with all the force of a speeding freight train.

"Castle..." she began, but seemed unsure of how to continue, her bottom lip drawing between her teeth as her eyes flickered down towards his mouth, conflict written all over her face.

He realized it then, inhaling sharply as the sheer enormity of this moment hit him, striking right into his core like a lightning bolt to the heart.

This was their line.

For months, he'd waited with a foot on either side, waiting for her to make the decision that would tip them off either edge. And now, finally, he could see that this was it– this was their line and she was about to decide, about to choose whether to step down or to make the leap, and suddenly half of him was stuck in place, dying to know, while the other half wanted to run as fast and as far as he could, because if this was it then this was it and he wasn't sure he could survive being told that they were partners and nothing more and oh god–

He quite likely would have begun to hyperventilate if her lips had not then covered his, stealing away his breath as well as his heart. He felt her fingertips brush his jaw, hesitant at first, but his utter responsiveness seemed to encourage her, strengthening her resolve. Her hand moved to cup the back of his neck, the kiss deepening as they both melted into each other, lips melding and arms pulling closer.

Shifting one knee over his, she pressed him back into the headboard, a soft moan vibrating in her throat as her lips parted, granting him entry.

Holding on for dear life, Castle kissed back hard, more than willing to follow her lead. He felt the light scrape of nails against his scalp as one hand raked through his hair, her fingers clenching as she pulled him closer.

Her kiss was like a hurricane; equal parts beauty and peril, it held him frozen with its glory while it tore the world from beneath his feet.

Completely caught up in the storm, Castle entirely missed the sudden small hitch in her movements, the tiny, sharp intake of breath against his lips that would have served as a warning. As it was, he was caught completely off-guard when she abruptly pulled away, her mouth tearing from his.

"Wait, Castle, no," Beckett gasped softly, the soft pants of her breath fluttering lightly against his lips, a sensation that would normally drive him crazy if it weren't for the nightmare of the words that had preceded it.

Suddenly panicked, Castle abruptly released her, his eyes clenching tightly shut. "I'm sorry– I shouldn't have–"

Shouldn't have what, though? Fighting through a haze of arousal, confusion, and fear, he struggled to make sense of what had just happened. She'd kissed him, not the other way around– god, what had he done wrong? Why–

Seemingly sensing his thoughts, Beckett gave her head a small shake, one hand tightening in his hair, the other moving swiftly to place her fingers against his lips.

"Castle, shh," she soothed gently, her forehead leaning in to press against his. "I just– I don't want you to get sick."

She– what? That was why? She'd practically just given him a minor heart attack, and all because she simply didn't want him to catch a cold?

An involuntary, relieved huff escaped his lips, his hand lifting to smooth her hair, brushing a strand back behind her ear before burying his fingers amongst the silky waves.

"Kate," he began softly, his eyes lifting to fix on hers, so close that he could see the heat lingering in her gaze, backed by something even deeper, even more intense. Something he'd been waiting to see for a long time, without ever realizing that it was already there, and he just hadn't known how to recognize it. His expression serious, his eyes never leaving hers, he went on, "I happen to have a superhuman immune system."

The low, throaty chuckle that escaped her lips was enough to make him lightheaded, intoxicated by all that she was. When her answer came a moment later, it was barely more than a whisper, her tone more seductive than he'd ever heard from her lips or anyone else's.

"Is that so?"

"Mm-hhmm," he murmured against her lips, one hand shifting from her hip to boldly slide beneath the hem of her shirt, feeling a sense of achievement at the shiver that ran through her body at his touch.

Fixing him with a sultry look, Beckett gripped him a little tighter, then began, "Well, in that case..."

She never did finish that sentence.

###

"Hey, you seen Beckett this morning?"

Rolling his chair over to his partner's desk, Ryan snagged the smiley-face stressball from the desktop and toyed idly with it, adding, "I just realized I haven't seen her since Castle forced her into taking the day off yesterday."

Reaching across, Esposito reclaimed the ball and deposited it in the opposite desk drawer before giving a half-hearted shrug, his eyes still focused on his computer screen.

"I heard she requested another day off."

Ryan blinked. For Beckett, one day off was surprising enough; two was practically unheard of.

"Wow, she must be really sick."

"I'm sure she'll be fine by tomorrow," Esposito answered absentmindedly, then glanced over as Ryan's phone chimed loudly from his pocket.

Ignoring his partner's grumbling about his phone's 'obnoxious noises', he immediately pulled it out, quickly checking the screen. Maybe Jenny was missing him.

"Oh hey, it's from Castle," Ryan said, then abruptly frowned. "He says he's not gonna be in today, and he's gonna have to cancel poker tonight."

"Aw, man," Esposito complained, tossing his pen onto the desk in frustration. "How come?"

Still distracted by the final part of the message, Ryan barely noticed the pen skittering past him, or the increasing impatience in his partner's voice as he repeated his question.

Feeling a slow grin spreading across his face, Ryan slipped his phone back into his pocket and gave his head a small shake, trying not to laugh as he answered.

"He seems to have caught a cold."

Thanks so much for reading, guys.

And remember, I'm always happy to work at improving my stories, so if you have a suggestion, don't be afraid to hit me with it.

Laura, out.