Here's the idea as presented by DeadPigeon: Take 3 completely unconnected words (the more incongruous the better) submitted by someone else and make a maximum 1,000 word story based on them.

Three Story Words: Pop Tarts, Tonnage, Brassiere

Words Submitted by: DeadPigeon

Chapter Rating: **M (Mild M Rating)** This is the only *slightly* M rated chapter. Therefore I have downgraded the overall rating to T. If that changes I will readjust.

Word Count: 935

Story Completion Time: 1 ½ Hours


He walks in on her in his bathroom, studying herself carefully in the mirror. Naked.

"What are you doing?"

"God, Castle. Could you knock?"

Not breaking eye contact or stepping from his spot just inside the bathroom he raises a hand and knocks on the door. Better late than never. Kate doesn't blink. Certainly doesn't smile.

"What are you doing?" Try this one more time.

"Nothing. Leave it alone."

She looks… He doesn't know what it is she looks like. He's never seen this look on her face before. He thought he'd seen them all. Guess not. He doesn't like it. She pulls her arm across her breasts, covering herself, her brassiere laid across the granite counter. She's insecure. No. That can't be right. Not Kate. Not the BAMF he loves. Sure is what it looks like though.

He's worried. This is… wrong. This isn't right. He will not leave it alone.

"Beckett." He uses her work name. At home, in his bed, she's Kate. Badass work name seems like a better place to start right now though. Just her name is enough. It will push her to say something. He's learning with her sometimes less is more.

"Have you noticed my tonnage?"

"Your what?"

"Weight, Castle? Have you noticed that I have been gaining weight?"

"Ha!" Shit. He has no fucking clue what the right answer to that question is - either way he goes is covered in land mines - but he's pretty sure that laughing was the exact *wrong* thing to start off with. Flattery. Let's start there.

"I've noticed that you are perfect."

Daggers. How is it possible to still get glared at when telling someone they're perfect? Perhaps not the informative answer she was going for.

He sighs.

"Look at this." Kate lifts her arm for him to see. Two faint red lines run around her upper torso. Like something had… OH!

"Seriously, Kate? You think you're fat because your bra's too tight?"

"I never said 'fat' Castle. I asked if you noticed I have gained weight."

Right. Big difference. Of course he had noticed. He had been the one to do it. He put that weight on her with pride. Kate was perfect, honestly and always, but the last year she was becoming all too much like the emaciated super-model version of herself. So if that meant slipping a pat of butter into her pasta, eating not all of his half of the fries, real half and half in her coffee and keeping chips, candy and boxes of Pop Tarts (which she says she hates but secretly loves to eat unheated straight out of the foil) then so be it.

And of course she's eating more. She's happy. She's in love. With him.

"Yes, Kate. I have noticed that you have gained weight."

Not daggers this time. Worse than daggers. She looks at him with something that is far too close to embarrassment. It won't be there for long. He's got this.

"I've noticed because when I touch your waist I don't feel just ribs sticking out." Not really helping the look so far. "I've noticed because when you let me snuggle with you in bed your ass bone doesn't poke me." Skies are clearing but still cloudy. "I've noticed because your breasts are bigger." There it is. The start of an irritated smile. If he plays his cards right he might even get an eye roll. "I've noticed because you went from gorgeous to so damn hot I can't keep my hands off you." Yes! An eye roll.

He's honest and will prove his point. One hand goes to her waist, palms the taught, open-air cooled skin. The other cups her breast. Feels the weight and slides a thumb across the nipple. He actually makes her gasp in surprise and it makes him feel, as it always does when he can take her breath away, like he just won a gold medal in awesome.

"Yeah?"

"Yes, Kate." He can't help but draw his mouth to hers. Punctuate his words with his tongue. He takes a step forward into her, making her take a step back. Nearer the wall. Nearer the vanity. He doesn't care which; just looking for something to press her against. He's momentarily disappointed when she pulls away.

"Can't keep your hands off me, huh? Like when?"

"Like this morning." She cocks an eyebrow wanting more details. "When you bent over to pick that file up you dropped? I could see all the way down your shirt."

"Mmm? Liked what you saw?" She's smirking now. Again completely badass and sure of herself. That moment's insecurity vanished, not even haunting the room like a ghost.

"Yeah. I liked what I saw. Almost dragged you in the break room to show you how much."

"If you do one thing for me, just one, then the next time you want to take me in the break room and have your way with me I might let you."

He starts to answer but can't. Not when she runs her tongue up the scruff of his jaw and into his ear. Not when she grinds hot, bare, open thighs on his in a way that (maybe just in his imagination) dampens his jeans.

"Don't you want to know what that one little, tiny thing is, Rick?"

Oo, first name. She's just as good as he is at playing the other.

He nods his head and strangles the word out. "Yes."

"You can have me in the break room as soon as you stop putting boxes of Pop Tarts in my desk."