A/N: Xenobiology=biology based on foreign chemistry.

"Castle, are we gonna make out?" She knocks on the door.

"Maybe we should start with the Nebula 9 marathon," his muffled voice calls weakly.

Esposito explained this to him. Beckett's a creaver.

A creaver.

"Castle, come on," she coos, "I want to do bad things with you. Bad things for you. Don't you want to?"

The evil alien race from Nebula 9.

Her little giggle relieves him. It's Beckett. She wouldn't hurt him. There's nothing to be afraid of. He can practically hear Esposito say, "man-up."

But then he thinks about those red eyes as her sense of humor dissolves, like an away-crew in a transporter.

"What are you, afraid of a little snogging? Weren't you the one who begged to play kissy-face tonight?"

They'll eat your face off.

"Jeez Castle," that's her annoyed-voice, "I get dressed up for you and we aren't going to do anything fun? At least Alexis got to enjoy the convention. I get nothing?"

Then serve your organs to their young.

He's been sitting here for ten minutes. Ten minutes of the beating of his heart in his ears. Ten minutes of Kate cajoling him from the other side of the door, until he finally hears her slip away in those ridiculously sexy shoes.

The shoes.

Think about the shoes. The legs. Man up.

Boba Fett mocks him from the corner.

It is definitely creepier searching for her when he doesn't know if she's wearing that damn mask.

"Kate?"

The evening casts shadows across the darkened loft, the lamp behind him lighting the room enough to see his office chair turn slowly. Waves of brown hair, lovely eyes, and long creamy legs. He swallows.

She wasn't kidding about how great those legs are. Shiny.

"Oh Captain, I'm so glad you were able to transport."

"Kate, did . . .did you want to watch the marathon?"

"Now that you slayed," she standing, taking long sliding strides, a word for each of her movements,

"the big,"

"bad"

"Creaver."

She reaches his body, wraps her arms around his neck.

" . . .however can we ever thank you?" She whispers before she kisses him so lightly, he's not sure whether she's stopped when her next words hum over his lips.

"You have the helm, number one."

It's all the permission he needs.

With warp speed both his hands slide over her backside, over her cheeks, to the hem of the costume.

"Rawr," she whispers in his ear just before her teeth bite down.

He backs her toward the chair discovering mid-way that her shoes slide easily on the hardwood floor. Glee crosses his face as she grabs at his elbow and lets him guide her. Like they're skating. Only they aren't skating around each other anymore.

He lands first, nearly tipping the chair as it rolls back and he pulls at her to keep his balance. She manages a graceful tumble into his lap, laughing the whole way as he gathers long limbs into his arms. It takes her a minute to adjust herself, legs over the chair arms, one hand on his chest while the other plays in his hair.

"You going to give me some orders Captain Tight Pants?"

"God your, how did you say it?, sci-fi-loving-costume-wearing sexy geekiness is going to kill me."

"Make it so."

He grins at her, before leaning so far forward into their kiss, he nearly drops her on the floor.

She slaps him on the chest for it, "Who's the geek now, Castle?"

"Don't care what you call me, Kate, everyone knows geek-love rules the universe." He kisses her neck, that place he knows she can't resist. Her breath comes faster as she arches her throat to meet his mouth. His hands are everywhere.

"Um-hmm," she unwittingly agrees.

"And Kate?" He says pushing himself to the edge of the chair and then up, his girl still in his arms, he bounces her a little to carry her across the room.

"Yeah?"

"You're going to need to grab the pen off my desk."

She narrows her eyes in question, as he reaches his office doorway.

"Private signing for my number one fan," he explains with a raised brow.

"Thought you forgave me for my terrible taste?"

"Eh," he considers, "your taste may be terrible by mine is awesome."

"Yeah? Let's find out." And then her tongue takes to his mouth and does a little space exploration of its own.