Kiss or Kill

by Mindy35

CASKETT. Missing scene from "The Third Man". Takes place during the cab ride from restaurant to crime scene.

Title: Kiss or Kill

Author: mindy35

Rating: T, adult themes

Disclaimer: I wish I could be employed for writing this stuff, but sadly I am not. AWM and ABC do all the real work.

Spoilers: "The Third Man".

Pairing: Castle/Beckett, Castle/Other, Beckett/Other

Summary: Missing scene from "The Third Man". Takes place during the cab ride from restaurant to crime scene. I've taken a small liberty towards the end but please forgive. And enjoy…

-x-x-x-

Their cab driver quit flicking between sappy love songs and grim news reports, finally switching the radio off. The lack of ambient sound in the car made the awkwardness that'd been occupying the seat between Beckett and Castle since ditching their dates at Drago suddenly unbearable. No longer able to ignore his blatant and constant scrutiny, Beckett turned to him, practically spitting in exasperation:

"What, Castle? For God's sake, what?"

His scrutiny didn't waver, his eyes narrowing at her. "You were going to have sex with him."

"What?" She recoiled in her seat, brows knit. "Who?"

"Who!" he huffed, tugging sullenly at his jacket. "That fire-fighter. You were planning on sleeping with him tonight."

"No, I…—" Her mouth gaped, her breath caught, her words faltering from her tongue. "You don't know that. Why would you say that?"

His eyes skated over her, top to toe then back again. "That dress."

She glanced down at herself then shrugged a shoulder, the naked one. "What about it?"

"Beckett, come on." He tipped his head to one side, treating her to a deeply sardonic look. "There's not a woman on earth who'd put on that dress without also planning on taking it off for someone."

Beckett drew in a breath, gazing out the window for a moment before musing, "You know, Castle…you think you know women so well when really you have so much to learn."

"That's very possible," he conceded, bobbing his head. "But one thing I definitely know is men. And there's not a red-blooded, heterosexual man on earth who could be within reach of a gorgeous woman wearing that dress without at least considering taking it off her."

"Well, thankfully, not all men's brains reside in their pants."

"Like mine does," he added after a short pause. "That's what you meant, right? That I, Richard Edgar Castle, shoot from the hip. So to speak."

She arched an imperious brow, refusing to glance his way. "I didn't say that."

"Not with your mouth. But the rest of you…"

"The rest of me what?"

"Speaks volumes." Blue eyes scanned her length once more before Castle faced front, leaning back into the worn leather. "And for your information – yes, all men think that way. You're delusional if you think for a second that Mr I-Save-Puppies-For-A-Living-And-Look-Damn-Good-Doing-It didn't picture slipping you out of that sinfully snug garment there."

She cast him a narrow-eyed look. "Oh, you mean like how you were picturing slipping Ms Bachelorette Number Three out of her conservative little number?"

"Did I at any point say that?"

"Not with your mouth. But the rest of you was speaking loud and clear."

"The rest of me? The rest of me was mute. Silent." He made a cutting gesture with one hand. "Pleading the fifth."

"Well, they say there's a first time for everything."

He leaned forward to peer at her face. "I'm sorry, was that a crack about me not being able to shut up?"

"If the shoe fits."

"Speaking of shoes…"

"What...?" she demanded, lifting one foot as his gaze travelled pointedly down her crossed legs. "I suppose my footwear is also sending a sexual signal?"

Castle shifted in his seat to face her, eyes glinting with mischief. "I'm very good at picking up on these things."

"Is that right?" She faced him too, head slanted sideways. "So what did the shoes of Ms I-Give-Half-My-Income-To-Sick-Babies-And-It's-So-Not-For-The-Photo-Op have to say?"

"Who?"

"Who…"

"Oh. Amanda." His eyes lit up further the second it sunk in that: "O-oh…someone read the blurb about my prospective date."

Beckett pursed her lips, her eyes dropping away from his. "I…might have given it a glance. Out of…professional curiosity. Or…something."

"Something not so professional."

"Castle—"

"And I didn't actually notice her shoes."

"No," she noted resentfully. "Just mine."

He dipped his chin. "That's correct."

Beckett frowned, eyelashes fluttering with confusion as she peered past their driver at their progress through the shambolic streets of New York. Sitting back again, she let out a sigh and said in a softer tone, "Castle, I saw the way you looked at her."

His brows rose in disbelief. "The way I looked at her?"

"And I saw the way she looked at you," she went on, eyes lowered to her lap.

"Which way was that?" he asked, lips inching up at each edge.

"I see it all the time," she said, hands lifting in irritation before dropping to her thighs with a mild slap. "Everywhere we go together. Especially once women know that we are not…you know…"

"Together?" he suggested impishly. "An item? Involved? In lurve—"

"Yes. Okay? All those things." She shot him a look from beneath her brows, her head wagging back and forth. "You can't be so dense that you don't notice them start salivating the second they hear you're single."

"Here's a tip." Castle leant closer, dropping his voice to a meaningful rasp. "Never… underestimate…my denseness."

Her eyes rolled. "Oh, come on, I don't believe for a second that you are oblivious to women's reactions to you. And that redhead with the fake tan was no exception."

"Fake, what?"

"Yet you grill me about my plans when I'm pretty sure you were planning on sleeping with her tonight."

"I…I can't say I'd planned that far ahead."

"Oh really?" She paused, taking a moment to let her eyes scrutinize him the way his had been scrutinizing her since they fled the restaurant together. "So the dashing ensemble and the deliberate hint of stubble, that just happened by accident, did it? And what is that scent you're wearing?"

Castle smoothed a hand over his tie. "Why? Do you like it?"

"What does it matter if I like it?" she grumbled, waving a hand at him in his courting attire. "I'm not the one you wore it for. I assume you reserve it exclusively for hot dates that'll end in practically anonymous sex."

"And what if I did wear it for you? Would you like it then? Would you approve of my unshorn chin then?" He cupped his chin with one hand, scratching uncertainly at his stubble. "Or do you prefer your men clean-shaven? And what about this tie? Alexis picked it out but now I'm not sure." He picked up the tie and showed it to her, bottom lip sticking out a little. "I think I might look like an amateur pimp."

"What?" Beckett blinked at him, her wrath forestalled. "It's…okay, I guess."

"So, not like a pimp?"

"No. I don't know…" She gave a half-hearted shrug. "The color is…nice, I guess."

"Nicer than his."

"Nicer than whose?"

"You know." He twirled a finger at her red dress and upswept hair and high heels. "The man you would have been spending the night with if not for this case."

Beckett grimaced, her wrath resurfacing. "Hey, I know you think I'm just some asexual automaton that doesn't exist outside your presence—"

"That's not what I think."

"—but I have needs, you know, just like anyone."

Castle blinked at her. "You have needs?"

"Of course I have," she insisted, wrath fading.

He blinked some more. Then knit his fingers on his knee. "Are they pressing needs?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Castle."

"No, I'm intrigued." He folded one leg over the other, tilting himself towards her. "What might these needs of yours entail?"

"Right now?" She cocked a brow, glanced out the window. "Getting the hell out of this cab so I no longer have to have this conversation with you."

Their car was pulling up at its destination and Beckett muttered a relieved, "Thank God…" as she opened her door and stepped out. Castle's amusement vanished as he watched her exit, the corners of his mouth starting to tug downwards as he fell back against his seat with something like defeat.

"Hey. Hang in there, buddy."

Castle looked up to see the cabbie eyeing him in the rear-view mirror. "…Huh?"

"Got a wife like that," the driver said with a gruff chuckle. "Never was sure whether I wanted to kiss her or kill her."

"I take it you opted for the former," he replied, sliding forward in his seat.

"Divorced her. Twice."

"Oh." Castle reached into his pocket for his wallet. "Sorry to hear that…"

"Don't be." The cabbie angled an elbow over the seat and looked back at him. "Married her three times. And would do it again. Some women you just never get out of your system."

He grinned, handing him a bill. "Worth it though, right?"

"Absolutely," the old man grinned back. "Every second of the day."

"Thanks." Castle gave his arm an enthusiastic pat then opened the door. "Keep the change. And say hi to your wife for me."

Before his new friend could answer, there were three sharp raps on the roof of the car, followed by Beckett's authoritative tone, telling him, "Castle! Get your ass in gear!"

Castle rolled his eyes at the cabbie, "Yes, dear…" and obediently exited.

The driver released another dry cackle. "Go get her, tiger." He watched his passengers reunite on the pavement before turning his meter off, switching the radio back on and steering his car towards home.

END.