Real Live Haunted House

"No, Castle."

"Come on." He duck-walks Ryan's rolling chair towards her at the murder board. "We so need to go."

"I'm not going. Take Shaggy with you instead."

His eyebrows twitch at that, but he doesn't relent.

"But it's a haunted house. And it's almost Halloween. And you won't wear the slutty nurse costume I bought-"

Ninja-fast, she's twisting his ear, and he's dropped to one knee on the floor, grimacing and wrenching her hand away. "Jeez, woman. You-"

"No."

He rubs at his ear over and over, scowling at her, and she lifts an eyebrow down at him, on his knees in front of her, in the same instant that Ryan comes back and starts looking for his chair.

He whistles at the scene, and then the whole bullpen is looking, and Castle's eyes go wide for a flaring moment before he scrambles to his feet to make a big production out of her ear-twisting.

Ryan has a strange look on his face when he approaches them, but he comandeers his chair. Castle turns to him. "Hey, convince Beckett to come check out the Real Live Haunted House with me."

Ryan grins. "Ohhh, so not a proposal?"

"Shut up," Kate growls, turning away from both of them.

"Real Live Haunted House, Beckett. When does that ever happen?"

"Last year?" she says snarkily, turning to look at him. He's fist-bumping Ryan and looks entirely too pleased with himself. And she realizes she's admitted that they encountered something - other-wordly - at last year's murder scene. "I mean. . ."

"Okay, but this time it's real."

"It's never real, Castle."

"This time it's Paranormal Activity 5. I swear. Come on."

"Ohh, those movies were so good," Ryan says, leaning against the back of his chair.

Castle grins. "I know, right? So good. When she goes to the crib-" He shivers hard and his eyebrows wriggle in delight.

Ryan is nodding eagerly. "Have you-"

"Okay, girls," Beckett sighs. "Wanna wait to have this discussion until the sleepover? Give you something to look forward to."

Ryan slinks off, rolling his chair back to his desk, and Castle turns his body to hem her in, his face that eager and intractable please.

"Come on. Real-"

"If you say Real Live Haunted House one more time, Rick Castle, our sleepover is canceled."

Even as she walks along the side of the house, cloaked in deep darkness, she still can't believe she's here.

"This is so cool," he whispers at her back. "Isn't it so cool? This-"

"Shut up until we get inside," she hisses at him, nudging open the squeaky wrought iron gate with her hip. Beckett turns back to look at him, to make sure that didn't leave a mark on his ego, but she needn't have worried.

He's still entirely too delighted.

Castle's hand snags at her hip, crowding her through the gate, and just to keep that burning touch off of her, she takes his fingers, laces hers through his to pull him into the back yard.

He waits, vibrating with excitement as she stops at the dilapidated back porch.

"It's supposed to be unlocked," he whispers.

"This is trespassing," she warns him again.

"Not really. Everyone goes. Come on."

"I can't believe you suckered me into driving all the way to Jersey-"

"Come on, Beckett. Stop dawdling. If you're scared, just say so."

She glares at him in the darkness and turns back to the door. The house is practically in ruins, the last crumbling edifice at the end of a long, gravel drive in the middle of nowhere. The window panes have all been broken, the front porch has sagged so far down that they couldn't even attempt a front entry. The back is overgrown with weeds as tall as her waist, and she's pretty sure she nearly stepped on a snake.

"Is it unlocked?" he mumbles, crowding closer, his heat dissipating the chill in the air.

She touches the knob and the door swings back, groaning. Beyond is more darkness, shadows of darkness, and suddenly this seems like a really terrible idea.

He shivers at her back and she feels it thrum through her; she squeezes his fingers and tugs him inside.

"Scully-"

"Don't even, Castle."

"But if we die tonight-"

"Castle."

"I just want you to know-"

She's only one step past the threshold, but she turns around suddenly, his body bumping into hers, and she presses her fingers to his lips.

"Don't make me hurt you."

"Again?" His eyebrow twitches up and she can feel the grin under the pads of her fingers. Instead of another round of stupid banter, she drops her hand and presses her mouth into his, quick and tight, tongue swirling until he gasps.

"What was that for?" He pants against her cheek, fingers digging into her hip.

"Just in case you really can be scared to death. Now come on."

Castle is using his flashlight app, but it only creates more shadows to jump at. Which he does. With an almost predictable regularity. She stops turning to look every time he gasps and simply explores.

The back door leads to a kitchen, a miserable expanse of cracked linoleum and stripped fixtures, the gaping cabinets like hungry mouths. They abandon it soon enough and start down a narrow hall, the ceiling brushing the top of Castle's head, the passageway so close that their shoulders bump together.

As they pass, he shines the lights over discolored patches of yellowing wallpaper.

"Framed photos?" she wonders aloud, skimming her fingers over the outlines. She comes away with girtty cobwebs, hears the skitter of insect-like feet farther down the hall.

Castle shvivers beside her and shines the light towards the sound. "I feel like we're in Old Misery's house," he murmurs.

She steps ahead of him down the hall and flashes him a quick grin in the beam of his light, reaches back to take his free hand. "Graham Greene? Really? I was expecting Poe, for sure."

"I like to keep you on your toes."

She hums and pulls him towards the end of he hall. "That you do."

"Hey, there are stairs," he says softly, pointing the light towards the wooden staircase reaching to their right, just off the askew front door.

"No." Kate grips his hand and keeps him from mounting the first step. "You saw the outside of this place. You'd fall right through, Castle."

"I think you're calling me fat."

"No, kitten, just big-boned."

He grunts on a laugh and swings his face back to hers, a startling pale moon in the darkness. "I warned you about that."

She lifts an eyebrow as he steps in close, but now he's thoroughly distracted from the emergency-room-visit-inducing stairs - just as she hoped.

Still, she didn't plan on the way her body cants into his, the irresistible tug of darkness and the unknown and that retalitory heat in his eyes. His allure rolls in waves over her, his fingers seeking her hipbones through her jacket, her fingers skiing up the the slope of his spine to draw him closer. His lit-up phone is still in one hand, angled crazily towards the listing door, making his face a strange contrast of deep shadow and harsh glare as he looms over her.

His mouth descends, but instead of a kiss, he nips at her jaw with his teeth, a shiver vibrating through her. He chuckles, pulling her hips roughly against his, and she sucks in a breath at his ear, curling her fingers in his jacket to hold on.

"Kate," he says softly, his mouth at her neck, the rough scrape of his bite making her hips jerk forward. He hums at that, pleased with himself, and she tries to gather herself back together, effect some kind of payback.

She forces her eyes open, draws her hands around his chest, and fumbles her fingers at his belt-

He screams.

She startles hard, biting her lip, and his hands clench too tightly and drag her to one side and back, down the hall, and she still can't find her feet, she has fistfuls of his jacket and the broad expanse of his chest blocking her view, and something flies past her head and he ducks-

and then she feels it, the icy wet cold, and she jerks on a yell, arching into him, making him stutter to a stop, trembling-

"What was that?" she hisses, twisting around to see-

"What was what?" he yelps.

"Why did you scream?"

"Why did you?!"

"Something cold. Wet. On my back. Castle-"

He grunts and shoves her down towards the kitchen, twisting to avoid the walls, and then she feels it, the brush of her elbow against cool, dewy moisture, and even as he's bodily carrying her backwards, she sees the walls are red - red - the walls are glistening red-

"Is that blood?"

"Oh God, we're gonna die-"

"We are sure as hell not going to die-"

"Is it blood?" he pants, still shoving her back, refusing to look, but she won't go. There's- "Is it blood? If it's blood, we are out of here. Is it-"

"It's wet," she growls, pushing on his shoulders so she can just see, the big oaf. "It's wet and where is your flashlight app?"

"I dropped my phone," he moans, his hand gripping the back of her neck, his hips knocking into hers as he tries to get her to move. "I don't know - it's not in my hand - I think when I went for your bra, I-"

"You dropped-"

"Don't judge me. There was a face. At the stairs. I was practically at third base and then I opened my eyes and there was a face-"

"There was not a face-" If she could just look closer at these walls - it can't be blood. It can't be - it has to be dew or leaky pipes and the water is discoloring the wallpaper and-

"You were pointing the wrong direction. I swear to God, Scully-"

"Rick Castle, if you don't stop calling me-"

"MOVE," he grunts, practically shoving her out of the hallway and back into the kitchen.

She trips over something and stumbles back, her body finally untangling from his, and when she catches herself against the kitchen island, hands smeared with a wet, rusty grime, she sees what she tripped over.

So does Castle.

"That's my phone."

"Did you throw-"

"That's my phone," he says again, staring dumbly at it.

"I felt something fly past my head-"

"I didn't throw it."

She stares at his phone.

He swallows loudly in the harshly illuminated room, his eyes track slowly up to hers. "Poltergeists will throw objects-"

"Don't even."

They stoop for his phone at the same time, cracking their heads together, and she groans and falls back. Castle reaches for her, gripping her by the elbow, and she feels him haul them both upright again, listing for the door.

"We're getting out of here."

"But the walls-" she starts.

"No. Not-uh. No dead body, no need to investigate-"

"Oh jeez, you totally jinxed-"

"Turn around and walk out the door," he growls, pocketing his phone and turning towards the way they came in. The door is shut.

"Did you shut the door?"

"That's not funny, Kate"

"I didn't shut it." Her voice has gone up an octave.

"Not funny," he says again and he reaches out for the knob.

It doesn't turn.

"Oh God."

"What?" she whispers. "What. What is it."

He rattles it harder, but the door is locked. Kate turns wide eyes to him, her heart thundering hard, and he stares back at her.

"No," she says, shaking her head, closing her eyes for an instant. "This is not a haunted house. This is just. . ."

"This is just what?"

She pushes past him, pick-pocketing his phone as she goes, and shines the light towards the hallway, reaching to her back-

But she didn't bring her gun. Damn it. He told her not to - he told her shooting at ghosts wouldn't do them any good.

"Kate? No. Not - not a good idea. Let's get the door open."

"I am not in a haunted house. I don't believe in ghosts."

"Sure you do. Everyone does, when it comes down to it. We want to believe there's something past this life, a reason for-"

"Shut up, Castle." She steps into the hallway carefully and takes a quick breath, then shines the light on the walls.

They're oozing red. Runny, thin, and red. Water mixed with blood.

"Oh my God," he moans.

She reaches back, her fingers fumble with his, but he takes her hand, he takes her hand and even when he resists her tug forward, he comes with her.

The walls are dripping red. She can't bring herself to touch it. It looks. . .but no. It can't be.

The groan of a floorboard echoes down the hallway and she snaps the light towards the staircase, heart thundering so hard she can barely hear anything else.

"Kate," he mutters, his grip getting tighter, his chest practically pressed into her back. "Not - let's not do this."

She sees the faint reflection of a light in the broken remnants of the front door's window. Like it's coming from upstairs and mirrored there.

"Do you see that?" she breathes.

"Kate."

And then rustling, a step right above their heads.

"Castle," she says, turning around and clutching at his jacket, tugging him in close, her eyes on his. "Castle. In case we-"

He gapes at her, his neck flushes. "No. Kate, wait-"

"In case we don't-"

"Kate," he grits out, a hand coming up to stop her.

"I love you."

His jaw drops, the air is sucked out of the hallway, and his grip on her is so hard, she couldn't move if she wanted to.

"In case this is a really stupid idea," she says more clearly, her voice strengthening. "I love you."

He still can't speak.

And then thunderous crashing from behind her and - "Holy shit, Beckett, did you say-"

She jerks around on a gasp and stares at Esposito and Ryan tripping down the stairs and tumbling to an open-mouthed stop at the foot.

Espo and Ryan.

She turns slowly back to Castle.

"Um. Boo?" He flashes the boys a look over her shoulder and then finally meets her eyes with a wince. "And. . .I love you too?"

"Rick. Castle. You set me up."

She narrows her eyes at him, pushes past him roughly for the door. It better damn well open this time.

Behind her, she hears him.

"Best Halloween ever."

She calls over her shoulder. "But just think, Castle. It's only October 25th. Plenty more Halloween to come - and payback is a bitch."