Title: Tequila Sunrise

Disclaimer: As much as I'd like to have my wicked way with Nathan Fillion (repeatedly), I don't own him or any of the other characters so brilliantly created by AM.

Notes: This has actually been sitting on my flash drive for well over two years...just goes to show that I was hoping that UST would turn into RST long ago! Reviews are adored. Always.

XXX

Kate Beckett seriously considered throwing her phone across the room when it rang, interrupting a perfectly good evening of feeling sorry for herself.

She sighed heavily as she picked it up, a little surprised when she had to force her eyes to focus. Then she eyed the two empty bottles of wine on the table beside her and realized that she shouldn't be surprised at all. Her eyebrow rose when she finally saw the name on the display.

"Hello?" she answered, unsure as to why she would be getting a call from this person at such a late hour.

"Hi Detective Beckett," Alexis Castle replied.

"Hey Alexis, what's up?"

"I need a favor."

"Oh?" Beckett was puzzled.

Alexis sighed. "Yeah…I'm about to head out; I'm spending the night with a friend so we can finish up this project for school. If it wasn't important, I'd stay home, because I'm worried about Dad."

She sat up. "Castle? Is he okay?"

"I don't know, that's the problem," Alexis said, clearly frustrated. "He came home with a brown paper bag that I'm pretty sure contained some type of alcohol, went straight to his office and shut the door. He's been there all evening, and won't tell me what's wrong." The girl sighed again. "Look, I really hate to ask this, but…would you mind checking in on him a little later? Just to make sure he doesn't do something really stupid?"

Kate was almost certain she knew what had him wound up enough to hit the bottle. Hadn't she been doing that herself since she got home?

They'd been at a crime scene, both crouched over a body.

When they finally stood up, her heel had slipped on a loose pebble on the street and she'd started pinwheeling. Just as she'd been about to fall, he'd caught her. The problem was, in his haste to keep her upright, he'd grabbed her and pulled her closer to him than he'd probably planned.

Their instinctive reactions had left her pulled flush up against his body; her hands were pressed to his chest, and his were settled firmly at her waist. An electric thrill had shot through her; their eyes had locked and their noses had actually brushed, and it would have been easy, so easy, to lean in that extra inch and close the gap.

But she didn't.

Instead, she panicked, blushed, pulled away hastily, and muttered her thanks. Just like she always did.

The air during the rest of the afternoon had been filled with so much unresolved sexual tension that it was hard for her to concentrate on anything, and when she'd finally called it a day, she'd gone directly home and opened a bottle of wine.

Apparently he'd done the same thing.

Shit.

She realized that Alexis was still on the phone, waiting for an answer.

"Sure, Alexis," she said. "I'll check in on him. I've had lots of practice keeping him from doing stupid things."

The relief in Alexis's voice was evident. "Thanks so much, Detective Beckett…I never doubted it for a second."

"Good luck with your project," Beckett offered. "And it's Kate, remember?"

"Thanks Kate," she replied. "I'm sure I'll talk to you soon. Bye!"

"Bye."

When the call ended, Beckett just sat there staring at her phone and wondering why she'd just agreed to babysit Rick Castle.

Oh Hell, she knew exactly why she'd agreed.

That evening, with the help of almost an entire bottle of wine, she'd finally come to terms with something.

She wanted him.

Sure, she'd spent a great deal of time and energy trying to deny it, repeating all of the reasons why there could never be anything in between them, but in the end…there it was.

And after today (well, after the last four years, really), she was pretty damned sure that he wanted her too.

Then and there, she decided that it was time…past time, if she was honest with herself…to do something about it. She was ready.

Glad there was still more than enough alcohol in her system to make her brave and a little bit reckless, Beckett walked into her kitchen, raiding the refrigerator and one of the cabinets before making her way downstairs and hailing a cab.

Alright. She was here; his door was right in front of her. It had been for the last five minutes. She rolled her eyes, psyching herself up, wishing that her wine buzz hadn't started to fade.

Screw it. She'd come this far…it was too late to chicken out now.

Raising her hand, she took a deep breath and knocked.

She could hear someone groan loudly from inside and slowly move towards the door. It swung open.

"Honestly, Mother, how you keep forgetting your key…" He trailed off, seeing her at his door, blinking rapidly. She noticed that he was swaying slightly, and was holding a glass of some sort of amber liquid. A quick glance behind him showed a half-empty bottle of Jameson on the table between the couch and the lit fireplace. Fitting.

"Kate," he said, and she felt that now-familiar tingle when he used her first name. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," she replied, then raised her eyebrow. "You gonna invite me in?"

"Oh…uh, sure. I have to warn you, though…that bottle was full three hours ago, so I can't be held responsible for my actions." He stepped aside, gesturing grandly.

"That's what I'm hoping for," she murmured almost inaudibly. He blinked again; had she…?

He cleared his throat, following her as she made her way to the couch. "Er…can I get you a drink?"

She sat down, patting the cushion beside her. "Actually…I kind of brought something with me. You game?"

Castle had no idea what was going on, but he was getting very curious. And turned on. He tried to play it cool as he sat down.

"For you? I'm always game."

'Because that didn't sound suggestive,' he thought. 'Smooth, Rick.'

Instead of threatening him with bodily harm, though, or shying away, she smiled slightly and started pulling items out of her bag, setting them on the coffee table.

A salt shaker.

A shot glass.

A small container of sliced lime wedges.

And a bottle of tequila.

His eyes flew to hers. She couldn't…

But then he saw it, finally. Kate Beckett, unguarded, demanding, vulnerable…and hungry. For him.

Oh HELL yeah.

Moving slowly but purposefully, he poured a shot of tequila and salted the webbing of his hand. Not looking away from her, he licked the salt slowly, tossed back the shot, and bit into one of the lime wedges. When he was done, she did the same.

She watched him intently as he prepared another shot, and didn't hesitate to wrap her fingers around his wrist and lick the salt from his hand when he held it out to her. The feeling of her tongue running across his hand, lingering longer than necessary…fuuucck.

Her eyes were so dark in the firelight that they were almost black. God, this had to be the most intense foreplay he'd ever experienced. He'd written it, sure, but never in his wildest imaginings could he have guessed how much it would turn him on.

Her breathing was quicker as she salted her hand and poured a shot, offering it to him, and it hitched as his tongue caressed her hand. He didn't let go of her wrist after he bit into the lime, and she seemed quite all right with it. He waited, barely breathing, as she rose up on her knees beside him and slowly shifted until she was straddling his lap.

His hands settled on the same spot on her waist that they'd been earlier that day, only this time she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned in, closer and closer, until their noses brushed, their lips just inches apart. As much as he wanted to pull her closer, to kiss her, this was her show; he knew that she could still spook and run. Granted, it seemed unlikely, given that she was straddling him, but he was not going to mess this up.

She smiled when she realized what he was doing, waiting for her to take the initiative, so take it she did. Her lips were still curved in a smile as she pressed them against his, reveling in the feel of his hands clenching on her hips involuntarily as her tongue traced the seam of his lips, demanding entrance.

Always one to defer to a lady's wishes, Castle parted his lips, nipping her tongue lightly as it probed his mouth. His tongue twined with hers, deepening the kiss and allowing him access to a part of her that he'd dreamed about but never thought he'd get a chance to explore. One of his hands moved upwards to wind itself in her hair, another thing he'd wanted to do almost since the first day he'd met her, while the other slid around until his fingers were spanning her lower back.

Though it had started with just a gentle brush of her lips across his, they were soon overwhelmed by the passion and the heat between them, and though it was their first kiss, it felt like they'd been kissing each other for years.

The kiss went on and on, the two of them dueling for dominance and trying to wordlessly tell the other of their feelings.

Eventually, though, oxygen became necessary; they pulled apart reluctantly.

He reached up to trace the line of her jaw.

"Kate, are you sure?" he asked almost desperately. "Please tell me you're sure."

She knew he wasn't asking if she was sure about just tonight. He was asking her about something that had scared her for a long time, something she finally realized scared him as well. After all, this would be new for both of them; they both knew that it wouldn't be a casual fling. And she was good with that.

"Very," she said, smirking.

And to prove it, she kissed him again.

He groaned when she finally dropped her weight fully onto him and rotated her hips, slipping his hand under her shirt to caress the skin of her back.

She brought her hands up to his collar and started to make quick work of the buttons on his shirt. While she was busy there, his free hand joined the one at her waist, tugging until her shirt came free of her waistband. Done with his shirt, she leaned back until he could pull her sweater completely up over her head. It flew across the room before he sat up a bit more and pulled his arms out of his sleeves. When it was finally off, she tossed it aside and dove at him. The feeling of skin on skin was indescribable, and their hands roamed freely as their mouths found each other again.

They had just started to work on other buttons when one of the logs in the fire popped loudly. They pulled apart, breathing heavily.

"Rick," she said in a sultry voice that she almost didn't recognize.

"Yes?"

He'd leaned up and was nibbling on her jaw, making it difficult for her to form a coherent thought, but she finally managed.

"Take me to bed," she demanded.

He pulled back until he could look her in the eye. When he spoke, he was as serious as she'd ever heard him.

"For as many nights as you want me to."

When they finally emerged from the bedroom the next morning, him in a pair of boxers and her wearing one of his shirts, both seemingly unable to keep silly grins off their faces, they were surprised to find that their clothes (fortunately only the shirts; the rest was in the bedroom) had been folded neatly and were sitting on one of the stools. There was also a note in what he identified as his mother's handwriting.

It's about damn time.