Into the closet

Summary

Someone always kept interrupting their most important moments. What if they wouldn't let them? Alternative scene to 47 seconds SPOILERS

Disclaimer

Yeah, you know the drill.

Rating T for safety

Category Romance/Humor

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Into the closet – Chapter 1

"How do you plan to act on this realization?"

His mother had asked him that, after he was musing about life being short, no time to lose, after this bomb attack Kate and the boys were investigating.

"What if she's not ready?"

"Then she'll never will be. Then you move on."

Yes. There always was the possibility of her saying no, of refusing him, for whatever reasons. But he'd like to think that she had gradually changed recently, opening up for him, letting him see a smile rather than a frown (or an eye roll, for that matter).

So – when he next went into the 12th, coffee cups in hand, seeing her sitting in front of her desk, his mind was set. He'd ask her out. Finally.

"I've been thinking. About the victims, and all the opportunities they'll never have. And I don't want that to happen. I've been –"

"Beckett. We've got something." Ryan called. Interrupting, as so many (many, many, many) times before.

She looked into his eyes, an apologetic expression on her face. The case, the victims…. They needed attention.

He understood. "It's ok. It can wait till after the case." His courage was out of the window anyway. He broke their eye contact.

He expected her to join Ryan on his way to the conference room and made ready to get up from his chair, too.

But her answer surprised him. A lot.

"No, it can't." she said in a low voice. Her eyes still on him, not letting him out of her gaze, she called: "Ryan, I'll be with you in five."

He looked at her again, his face a study in confusion. What was that supposed to mean? She had got up, holding her hand out to him, asking him mutely to follow her.

She let go of his hand, but he'd have followed her anyway, as she very well knew.

Would she go grab a coffee? No – he'd already brought her one, and she was not going into the break room. Elevator? No, she passed this one by, too. So where was she … oh, the toilets.

Wait. She didn't want to talk with him in a toilet booth, was she? He was a bit disgusted at the thought (and a bit turned on, too.).

Instead of rushing into the toilets, she opened a door on the opposite wall, with a sign stating "Cleaning supplies". Never noticed that one before. She urged him in, closed the door and switched on the light.

"Soo..." he said, unsure what to think and what to make of this situation. Him and Beckett in a closet together normally would have triggered a whole bunch of dirty thoughts, but due to his uncertain position, and the fact that it had been Kate who had been dragging him in here, not the other way round – well that was irritating him considerably.

She was looking at him with a strange look on her face. He shifted uneasily. She still hadn't spoken one word, but kept looking at him … funny.

"Cat got your tongue?" he tried to joke, but the next instant, he knew what to call this look on her face. She looked like she was starving, and he was her main dish. His heart began to do a tap dance in his chest.

She was licking her lips (omg, she is licking her lips…..!), and took a step towards him. Still no word from her. What the hell was going on?

She covered the little distance between them in the blink of an eye, obviously having gathered enough courage to act.

The cocky know-it-all, bestselling author, and brilliant poker player Richard E. Castle didn't know whether to shit, run, or go blind when he felt her lips on his, her body nuzzling against his, her hands around his neck, around his back, and dragging him ever closer to her.

He lost no time in hugging her as well, responding to her kiss feverishly. She had opened her mouth to him, and he accepted this invitation with all his heart. Their tongues battled for domination, her hands roamed his neck, his back, getting ever lower – whoa! With one hand, she had squeezed his butt! He was so startled at her intimate touch that he broke their kiss and looked into her eyes.

"Who are you and what have you done to Kate?" he asked hoarsely.

"Shut up, Castle." She murmured and sought his lips again with hers.

Taking liberties was not only her game. He let his hands do some exploring, too. The curve of her hip, up to the side of her body, up to…

"Kate." He breathed her name, aware of his body on fire, her heavy breathing and disheveled look.

"What's happening here?" he managed to ask after taking some moments to compose himself.

He couldn't believe that he was actually taking the pace down, but this was happening a bit too fast to be real. At least in his opinion. (Did he really just think that?)

Kate seemed to need some moments to come to herself, too. Her pupils were dilated, and she thought that if groping Castle (and be groped) and kissing him (and be kissed) was so much fun, she was eager to learn how doing something more with him (to him? Her wicked mind asked) would be like.

She had acted on impulse, had wanted him to finish his sentence he started when still sitting beside her desk, desperately had wanted to hear him out. Ryan's interruption was simply annoying, and she refused to let their happiness postponed.

But he was right, she had to explain. It didn't happen every day that she dragged her partner into a closet and practically jumped his bones.

But there was this case, and the new lead… no time for fun now.

"I want …" (you) "to talk about this." She rushed to explain. "I really do, Castle. But not now, ok? Tonight, 8 pm, my place. I'll cook dinner, you'll bring wine. Deal?"

"Deal." He said, without knowing how he could let go of her, not after that - - kiss. Well, in his mind, this short word was by far not enough to describe how profoundly, shatteringly, utterly it had altered his world. Hell, this was Kate Beckett who was asking him out on a date, who had kissed him fervently, pressed her body to his, and… oh. They were still standing very closely together, his arms still wrapped around her. He'd have to let go. Soon. But he enjoyed her presence too much to listen to his own inner voice.

"Ok. Good." Kate sighed, obviously relieved that he'd accepted her invitation.

"And – could you do me a favor?" she asked.

"Anything." He answered without thinking.

"Then please go home now. I can't think straight right now, to be honest, and I don't want to risk jumping you again in front of all the bullpen." she added rather sheepishly.

"Kate, you're killing me here. I've still got you in my arms, remember, and if you go on talking about jumping me, then the five minutes you promised Ryan will be considerably overrun." He still wasn't letting her go.

A/N: The phrase of "don't know whether to shit, run, or go blind" is not my invention. I read this in a book by Rita Mae Brown and loved it. No copyright infringement intended. Please don't sue me.

So, multichapter obviously. Should I go on?