As nervous as Kate Beckett had been two hours ago was about how relaxed she was now. Two hours ago she was flying frantically around her apartment, gathering up clothes previously banished to the floor and wiping counters covered in dust, all while trying to calm herself down and get ready for her date.

Date.

Now she was walking through the Metropolitan Museum of Art – on a date. With Richard Castle.

Richard Castle. A man who made her want to drive her car into a wall and hug him at the same time.

Talk about insane.

"I love this one!" She exclaimed with a smile, pulling him towards the painting.

"Funny."

"Why?" There was a hint of irritation in her voice. She hated being questioned – and yet, she had no pity for the victims of her interrogations.

"I just didn't think of this to be something you'd love, is all" he responded, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. Little did she know that he was just as nervous now as she was two hours ago. "I thought you'd be more into the Greek or Roman art. I don't really know why, you just…seem like it."

"What, Castle? You think I'd have a thing for gladiators and chariot races? Sure I like a good fight, but that's just ruthless."

He laughed softly at her as she spoke. Not for a second did her eyes break away from the painting she was looking at.

"Besides, I've always been a sucker for French art. Especially Degas." She was currently absorbed in The Dance Class – only one of his many depictions of dancers. She stepped back away from the wall, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "You know when I was little my mom put me in dance class? And I absolutely hated it until I saw this painting. I had to be maybe eight or nine when she brought home a book of his paintings from the library."

Rick could hear her voice drifting back in time. He moved up to her left side, gently wrapping his first two fingers around her pinky.

"I must have sat in my room for hours staring at that book. After that I wanted to be just like the girls in his paintings. So graceful and perfect." Slowly she had leaned into his chest, shifting so that she was encircled in his arms.

He tenderly pressed his cheek against the side of her head, and let himself get lost in the scent of cherries.

"You are perfect," he whispered in her ear.

She turned around in his grasp to return the sentiment. But, unfortunately, just as her fingers brushed his hairline her phone started vibrating in her pocket.

Before his eyes finished blinking she was out of his embrace and pacing in front of the Degas.

"Beckett."

Silence coated the room as she listened to the call.

"Alright," she sighed, "you got an address for me?"

Rick couldn't help but be as equally excited by both aspects of her personality. The Detective and the Woman. The cop and the art lover.

Beckett and Kate.

"No, no. I'm fine. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

He was addicted.

"Thanks Esposito."

She slid her phone shut and walked back over to where he was standing against a wall.

"You know you really shouldn't lean on walls. It's disrespectful."

"To who?" He whined. "There's no one here." It was true. There was hardly anyone else in the museum. They hadn't done it intentionally, but thankfully there were very few people around to speculate about them.

Instead of answering his argument she simply reached up and draped her wrists over the space between his neck and shoulders.

"I'm sorry, but there's been a murder." Unlike before, she now stared right at him. She really did feel guilty about having to leave. "Apparently murderers don't think I should get a night off. And I was really enjoying myself, too."

Rick grabbed her by her waist and pulled her closer. "I was too. But hey," he said perking up, "all the more excuse for me to take you out again."

Kate smiled at his logic as she broke away. She really was having a wonderful night. Too bad people didn't consider her plans when they committed a murder. Thankfully, what she was wearing wasn't too far off from what she would normally wear to a crime scene. Just a little bit nicer pair of pants and blouse, and, of course, her red trench coat that she knew Rick liked so much.

"We have to go." Her arms were still resting on his.

"Don't you want to leave first? So we don't, uh, get there at the same time?"

"No." She said with a smile. "I don't really mind." His eyes widened at her statement. That came straight out of left field. He knew that she didn't want anyone to know about them. Them. He liked the sound of that. So, he assumed that she wouldn't want them to arrive at a crime scene together.

Especially when they were technically coming from a date.

He had gotten so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice she had made her way out of the section they were in.

"You comin'?" She called over her shoulder.

Rick jumped at the question without a second's thought. In moments he was following his date out into the New York air, and hailing a cab to take them off.

"Don't you need to stop back at your place? Get your badge or something? Your gun?" He questioned as she cabbie the address of the murder.

"Oh, Castle," She responded with dry humor, "when are you going to learn that I always," she stressed, "Carry my gun."

Woo hoo! Everything's all planned out for this! I hope you liked the prologue! Would you believe that I already have 90% of the first chapter written, too? Shocking, isn't it?

No suprise here: Everything you know belongs to Mr. Marlowe and ABC.

Let me know what you think! I'm so excited to see where this goes!

Tappin.
:-D