A/N: for Vallie and Mary because I love them and pugs. (I do not love camping)
Disclaimer: I am (or was) camping. Castle and Beckett are not. (but they are going to the Hamptons and that's not so different… really. Sort of.)
To say that Latte was not amused was an understatement. A really big understatement. Her feet were muddy and her belly was muddy and her tail was muddy and her back was muddy and she's pretty sure that there was nothing about her that wasn't muddy. Except maybe her tongue. Though there was probably mud in her water bowl so she doubted that was going to last long. It wasn't fair. It really wasn't. Here she was, cold and wet and miserable and there they were inside, giggling. Latte is used to The Giggling. The Giggling is a regular occurrence back home. Back home where it is warm and dry and not muddy. The Giggling means she's not allowed in the bedroom. And she's okay with that, because there's always the couches, with the soft cushions, or any number of spare bedrooms upstairs where it's warm and cosy. Or even her bed, at a push. She rarely sleeps in her bed if she can help it. They didn't even have the decency to bring it on this trip to this field of hell. Inconsiderate. She pushed her nose against the mesh door trying to attract the attention of the two inside. Not working. Not going to happen. Too distracted. Instead, she plodded over to the bag of shopping that they'd bought back with them from their far too muddy walk. She was sure there was a packet of cheese in there somewhere.
"Latte's not going to be happy." Kate sighed, pillowing her head on her folded arm.
"I'm not happy." Castle replied, shifting uncomfortably. "Do you know how hard it is to have sex on an airbed?"
"It was… interesting. Now pass me a towel."
"Why?"
"Because Latte is out there covered in mud, and unless you want her to freeze to death then you're going to have to open the door and let me warm her up." Even as she spoke she saw the shadow of Latte pressing her nose up against the door, could hear the wet snuffles.
"She's covered in mud!" Castle frowned, look at Kate as if she'd just grown an extra head.
Kate huffed, reaching for her t-shirt. "That's the point, Castle. She must be miserable." She shook her head, pulling the shirt over her arms. "If you hadn't been so impatient to get my clothes off."
"You weren't exactly complaining."
"Yeah, yeah. Towel, now, or I'll use your blanket."
As Kate had predicted Latte was miserable. In fact, if pugs could pout then she's pretty sure she would be. She was, of course, a lot happier once she was rubbed dry and settled on her own blanket. Castle reached over, scratched Latte between the eyes. "I don't think Latte thinks much of camping."
"Most dogs don't. And she's only small." Kate replied, running a hand along Latte's back.
"Yeah, small and fat. Fat keeps you warm."
Kate lifted the blanket, pug and all, into her arms and looked down at the dog. "Don't you listen to the mean old man, Latte. He's just jealous that you have less wrinkles than him."