Quoth the Raven: Oops, (We) Did It Again!

By: The General

Pairings: Castle/Beckett
Disclaimer: If I owned any of this, fan fiction would be a much more fiscally sound endeavor for me.
Description: Or, four times Castle and Beckett accidentally made-out.
Rating: PG-13 at the worst
Description: Okay, full disclosure: I am about a season and a half behind on this show, so when I developed this premise, it was designed to take place before Castle proposed, before their TV-shattering, S4 kiss, etc. Initially, this was supposed to be all in one-shot, but due to length, I decided to upload it in chapters. Alas, fear not! I already have the first three scenarios written out, and they'll be posted shortly.

i. in the beginning

"Castle!" Beckett shouted over the volley of gunfire aimed in their direction. From what he could hear of it, Castle decided her tone sounded much more annoyed than angry at this point. "I thought I told you to get the hell out of here before they started shooting!"

She quickly fired off a couple rounds before once again crouching behind cover (this time a poker table with a surprisingly thick layer of hard oak) beside him. When Castle signed on to tail Beckett, he never imagined death—his death—would happen only a few weeks in. Especially not at the hands of New York's deadliest, Italian crime family, who happened to be brandishing automatic weapons. It was all so Mario Puzo.

"Well, I'm sure as hell—" He ducked, a few bullets grazing and splintering the table overhead. "—not going to while they're shooting. That would be suicide!"

Beckett's shoulders sank, and she may have uttered something like "If only" before loading another clip into her Glock, but he couldn't read her lips well enough.

Soon thereafter, a ceasefire occurred, but before Castle could peek around their cover to see if the room had cleared, Beckett pinned him back against the green felt of the table with a splayed hand planted firmly against his chest.

"Detective Beckett," came the thickly accented voice of the family's head honcho, "your behavior up until this point has been both predictable and, quite frankly, disappointing. Fortunately, for you, I am a very forgiving man."

"Forgiving, maybe, but you're clearly not too bright, Mr. Garcetti," Beckett conceded, her tone even. "Otherwise, you would know that as a cop and a female, I have an incredibly low tolerance for men who abuse power to prey on the weak. Fortunately for you, I'm an excellent shot."

All at once, the gunfire started up again.

"In retrospect," Castle suggested, flinching every time a bullet whizzed close by, "maybe insulting a mob boss with an automatic weapon wasn't your best idea ever." Beckett ignored him, eyes on a shard of glass from a broken scotch bottle she was using to aim better. Her hand was still on his chest. "I told you," he continued, doing his full on Brando impression, "we should have 'given him an offer he couldn't refuse.'"

That captured Beckett's attention. She turned her head to face him, a frown plastered on it. "Really, Castle? We're about to get killed, and all you can do is butcher quotes from The Godfather?"

Castle's face fell. Suddenly, he lost any urge to laugh. He desperately searched her expression for any hint of joking. "You really think we're going to die here?" he asked, unable to hide the desperation he was suddenly feeling.

Beckett didn't seem to notice. "Maybe." She briefly glanced at the shard of glass again. "I don't know." She fired off four rounds before glancing back at him. "Probably," she admitted angrily, "if Espo and Ryan don't show up with back up some time soon."

Oh no, Castle groaned. He briefly wondered if Beckett could feel how fast his heart was slamming against his silk clad chest. Then he briefly wondered if Beckett's heart was beating just as fast as his and whether or not he would be able to feel it if he pressed his hand against her chest. His thoughts became less coherent after that.

"LAST CHANCE, DETECTIVE BECKETT!"

"Do your worst, Garcetti!" she growled. "I've got at least a hundred badges comin' any minute, and I would love to slap an attempted murder and a misdemeanor charge on top a' those racketeering and illegal firearm possession charges you and your boys have racked up."

Castle made a mental note to flash back on some of Beckett's dialogue when he continued writing Naked Heat again. If, he thought to himself grimly, if I continue writing; if I'm not dead. He admired how well Beckett handled herself. At the first sign of chaos, she immediately took charge, brow furrowed and lips set in a firm line. If he weren't too busy feeling entirely inadequate in comparison, he would have found it all incredibly hot. The real crime was that he would die without so much as skimming the possibility of first base with her.

"Castle," Beckett interrupted with a nudge to his shoulder, "you good?" To his surprising regret, she removed her hand from his chest. "Because I'm gonna need you to follow my lead exactly."

He nodded, his heart still erratic. If he was going to die, he should have just said it.

"Kate—" he began.

"—Yeah?"

"I—" Oh, what the hell?

Kissing Beckett, as cliche as it sounded, was way better than he imagined. Partly because after her initial shock, she actually responded, but mostly because they would have continued kissing if it hadn't been for Ryan, Esposito, and what appeared to be the rest of the 12th precinct barging into the place, shouting, "FREEZE, NYPD! PUT YOUR WEAPONS DOWN AND YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!"

Equal parts breathless, annoyed, and humiliated, Beckett lamented, "They meant the mob guys, Castle," as she swatted at his raised hands.