A/N: for Vallie. Because she begged. And pugs. (p.s. this is rubbish)
"Castle, that's a pug."
"It's not just a pug, Kate! It's the cutest most adorable pug I have ever seen."
"It's a pug."
"What's wrong with pugs?"
"Nothing's wrong with pugs. I just thought we were going to get something… bigger. A pug does not make a very good guard dog."
Castle raised an eyebrow, smirking at her. "Why do I need a guard dog when I have a homicide detective who sleeps with a gun in my bed every night?"
"That's all you keep me around for?"
He grinned at her, all crinkly eyes and goofy smile, and can she really say no if the man wants a pug? Sure, they went dog shopping for something more along the lines of Royal, but a dog is a dog. Sure, they're going to have the rag taken out of them something proper, but maybe if she tilts her head and squints a bit she can at least sort of pretend that the dog is cute.
"Can we get her, Kate? Please?"
Kate eyes the watery eyed, wrinkly nosed canine carefully. Maybe she could grow to like her. "Alright. But you're in charge of toilet training."
As soon as they're through the door and Latte the Pug (Castle's sense of humour leaves little to be desired sometimes) is set back on her feet she's already emptying her tiny pug bladder all over the floor. Kate turns, raises an eyebrow at Castle, and sighs. "She is your dog."
"She's my dog when she's weeing and crapping on the floor. When she's being cute and adorable and being all puggy, then she's suddenly yours."
Kate nodded. "Yeah, that's about it. You're the one who wanted the pug, Castle. It's your job to clean up after it."
"Remind me why I let you live with me again?"
"Ice cubes."
It's three in the morning and Kate can't sleep because Castle is snoring in her ear. Loudly. It's not even the cute sort. And no matter how much she elbows him and knees him and flicks his ear he will not wake up or shut up. A year and a half of bed sharing and this is the first night she's contemplating a pillow to the face. Though whether that's to wake him up or suffocate him she's not quite sure. He snorts again, turning over onto his back until his arm flops across her chest. Grunting with displeasure she shoves it away. Idiot. Year and a half and he's still hopeless at sharing a bed. The bedroom is dark, but the rest of the apartment is flooded with light when she walks across to the kitchen. A snuffling around her feet and the click of claws against the wood alerts her to Latte's presence and she wrinkles her nose as the cold wet nose of the pug makes contact with her foot. She bends down, hooks a hand around the podgy little belly and lifts her up to face level, the dog watching her with shiny eyes and a vacant expression. Strange thing.
"I suppose you are kind of cute."
"I heard that."
Kate turns, finds Castle leaning against his office door, the most insufferable smug grin on his face. "Oh, so now you wake up."
"I always wake up when you get out of bed."
"Well if you had your way you'd never let me out of bed."
"Is that such a crime? But that's not the point. You think Latte is cute." He says, and it's far too gleeful for this ridiculous hour in the morning.
"Yeah, when she's not peeing everywhere she's slightly more appealing."
"You said it not me. Are you coming back to bed?"
"Are you going to stop snoring?" she replies, raising an eyebrow.
"My snoring is cute!"
"No."
"Yes."
"Latte is cute. I'd rather share a bed with the pug than you when you're snoring."
"Ohh, Kate. That's mean."
"But true."
He huffs. "But are you coming back to bed? Pug or no pug?"
"Yeah, I'm just going to get a glass of water. I'll be there in a minute."
Castle wakes in the morning to find Kate sat up against the headboard, book propped open on her knees. "You've got a pug on your head."
He's got a- what? "Am I dreaming?"
"No. You really do have a pug on your head. She came in with me last night. Got quite comfortable on your pillow. And then your head."
He lifts his hand carefully to his forehead, feels hot, wet snuffly breaths on his fingers. "Are you glad we got a small dog now?"
"Not really. If we had a Labrador he might have muffled your snoring a bit."