Disclaimer: Castle and all the characters therein are owned by ABC. Thus, anything you recognize doesn't belong to me.

Author's note: as English is not my first language, I appreciate correction and comments!

Chapter One

Detective Kate Beckett stepped out of the elevator and onto the precinct's fourth floor, before making her way across the bullpen in the feminine yet determined stride that was so characteristic of her. As her workstation came into sight, she had to suppress a smile. Yet another morning and there he was, bright and early. She actually began to get used to the image of him sitting beside her desk, waiting for her with a grin on his face and a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. And what an image; he was a sight for sore eyes. There was no denying that, no matter how much she tried when asked.

There was just something about Richard Castle, the famous murder-mystery novelist, who followed her around for inspiration for his latest book series. Or so he had everyone believe. Beckett had a slight suspicion that he found the police work — chasing and arresting the bad guys — more exciting than sitting behind his laptop at home typing up stories the entire day. She, in turn, found his novels quite exciting. His work had found its way onto her bookshelves long before he'd begun shadowing her and very prominently so. They were in fact an important part of her personal library, especially since they had helped her through trying times. She also couldn't deny — but was glad he didn't seem to remember — that she had stood in line for an hour during one of his book signing sessions to acquire a signed copy of Through The Storm, Castle's fourteenth novel and her absolute favorite.

When Beckett reached her desk, Castle held out the cup of coffee that had apparently been waiting for her on top of a pile of case files. "Good morning, Detective."

She accepted the drink from him with an appreciative smile. "Thanks."

"Skim latte, vanilla flavored," he remarked, still somewhat proud he knew exactly what she liked to drink in the morning. The afternoons were a different matter, he'd found out. Her preferred choice was either black coffee or cappuccino with a dusting of cinnamon. Late at night, she was known to drink several double espressos, trying to stay awake and solve a case. He was simply astonished by that fact. He enjoyed a good espresso, too, but after two servings he could be found climbing the curtains. It wasn't what you would call a good idea, or so his daughter had kindly informed him on one occasion. He was hyper enough as it was. "So, do we have a case?"

Shaking her head, Beckett sat down. "Not as far as I know. I have paperwork to do, though," she answered him, booting up her computer.

"How exciting."

Beckett looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes. Apparently, the sarcasm was already dripping heavily that morning. "It's part of the job, Castle. Maybe not in Nikki Heat's world," she told him, referencing the heroine of the novel he was currently working on. Castle had based the character on her and, in that sense, Nikki Heat was thus her literary alter ego. "But it is in the real world."

"Hmm, I'm sure Nikki Heat does paperwork as well, I just choose not to write about it. She might have a couple of minions doing it for her," Castle mused. "On the other hand, now that I think about it, I might incorporate it if she did the paperwork in her lingerie..."

"I'd read that book," Javier Esposito remarked as he and Kevin Ryan walked up to the pair, the latter nodding in agreement.

Beckett glanced up from her computer screen, sending them all a glare. It really was a men's world down at Precinct 12. She hoped that the other two detectives, at least, came bearing good news.

"What's up boys?" Castle asked as he smacked hands with them.

"We've got a case," Ryan informed them both.

"Where?" Beckett wanted to know as she pushed her chair back in order to allow her room to stand up.

"Central Park, just off West Drive and West 67th Street."

"I guess that means no paperwork in sexy lingerie today. Too bad, it could've been good," Castle said jokingly, getting out of his seat as well. "Black lace, stocking suspenders…"

"In your dreams, Castle," Beckett replied firmly, cutting him off.

"Oh, you bet," he grinned.

Beckett shook her head. "Get your dirty mind out of the gutter and let's get going, okay?"

With that, the foursome left the bullpen. They took the elevator downstairs and headed outside towards the car park in front of the station building. Momentarily, five cruisers stood parked diagonally out front along with two SWAT vans.

"Shotgun," Castle exclaimed, sprinting over to the police car assigned to Beckett. Since all the dark blue Ford Crown Victorias looked indistinguishable from each other and there were no car numbers visible on the sides of the cruisers, he had remembered her license plate by heart for these kinds of situations. A child at heart, he stood eagerly waiting by the passenger's door, a grin on his face, happy by the prospect of not having to ride in the backseat of the car like some kind of criminal. He didn't quite understand why Beckett's fellow detectives weren't in a bigger hurry or raced him for the seat, until he noticed them walking over to another Crown Vic. Then it all became clear to him and the grin disappeared as quickly as it had come. "You could've told me we'd be taking two cars," he muttered and shook his head in disappointment. "Typical cop humor…"

"No, just the typical assumption of a writer," Beckett replied and the other two laughed with gusto. "You know the boys have their own cruiser. Just like you know I won't ever let you drive."

"Right."

As the laughter began to die down, the four of them climbed into their respective vehicles and headed out to the west side of Central Park. Beckett and Castle took the lead with Esposito and Ryan hot on their tail.

"So, you won't ever let me drive?" Castle asked Beckett, who just glanced at him in reply. "Not even when you're hurt and I need to take you to a hospital?"

Out of Castle's eyesight, Beckett smiled to herself as she looked over her left shoulder to inspect the busy New York traffic. "That's what ambulances are for, but yeah, there might be one or two exceptions," she told him, taking a sharp left turn.

Castle held onto the car handle for dear life. "Good to know."

"I wouldn't get your hopes up."

"I'll change your mind."

"You've said that before."

Castle thought about her response for a moment. She was right, he had. One more to add to the list. He decided it would be better to change the subject and his thoughts shifted to the case at hand. It wouldn't be the first Central Park case he'd be shadowing Beckett on and he was pretty sure it wouldn't be the last.

"You know, the very first murder in Central Park occurred in 1870, the year its construction was completed," Castle shared his knowledge, unsolicited as usual. "I guess it's never really been safe place. But you know, no matter how many murders take place there, it's still a great park." Castle let out a chuckle. "Oh, the wild times I've had there..."

"Do I really need to know?" Beckett asked, even though she was more than a little curious to hear his stories. She couldn't help it. The man was anything but boring and led an interesting life. While she was rather content with her own, up to a certain point, there were definitely times she envied his charming and gregarious personality and the situations said character trait led him into.

"I don't know about need per se… You'd probably roll your eyes at me," Castle grinned. "As you normally do."

"You usually give me plenty reason to."

Castle ignored her reply and decided to tell his story anyway. "There was this party once... Well, there were a lot of parties back in the day of course, but this one was especially crazy. Seemed like every New Yorker knew about it, even though there was a guest list. I suppose the bouncers were easily bribed. But the more the merrier, I say. Anyway, the party lasted for two days. Started Friday night and didn't end until Sunday morning. Let's just say, you can't make it that long sober. And there was a fashion theme of some sort. It was the mid nineties, so probably something grunge or leather-y, but all I remember is seeing a lot of bellybutton rings…"

"Yeah, it was grunge."

"Hmm, that could be right," Castle said pensively, then widened his eyes in surprise. "How do you know? Don't tell me you were there, too."

"If we're talking about the same party, then yeah. I crashed it with a group of girlfriends. You were right, the bouncers were easily bribed," Beckett told him, a smile playing on her lips. It did her good to know that the one time she had ever crashed a party and had done something on the wild side — lived a little, her friend Madison had called it — Castle had been there too and, above all, it apparently had been one of the craziest parties he'd ever attended. That meant something. However, when her parents had found out, she'd been grounded for a month and had gone back to being the goody-two-shoes she normally was, which suited her better. That didn't mean she didn't have a good time anymore, just nothing to get grounded for that long.

Castle was utterly intrigued by her admission and looked at her with admiration. "I keep saying this, but you're a constant surprise, Detective."

"Meh, we were all young once," she shrugged. "Some a little bit longer than others…"

"I have no idea to whom you might be referring," he replied, giving her the most innocent look he could muster. "But who knows, we might have actually run into each other back then. Imagine that."

Pondering the possibility, Beckett parked the car on West Drive and West 67th Street. She looked out of the window to her right, past Castle, and saw that Esposito was doing the same. "Well, in that case, Castle, you didn't exactly leave a lasting impression on me," she teased, cutting the engine. After a quick glance at him, she opened the car door, which was the reason he was unable to see her grin. "Sorry."

"Ouch, you really know how to hurt a guy," Castle grumbled as they both stepped out of the police car.

"Trouble in paradise?" Ryan, having overheard the author's last remark, jokingly asked as he and Esposito joined the pair.

"Little bit," Castle answered, but didn't elaborate further, much to Beckett's relief.

Without another word, the four of them walked into the park and headed towards the small crowd that had gathered there by now. Medical Examiner Lanie Parish saw them approach and walked up to the quartet, meeting them halfway.

"Hey Lanie, what have you got for us?" Beckett asked her friend.

"A false report, I'm afraid."

Beckett frowned. "Really? Then why the crowd?"

"Well, apparently a homeless man who drank himself into a stupor is still an attraction to some people," Parish explained, rolling her eyes. "Anyhow, we found him here in a diabetic coma. The passerby who called it in mistook him for dead."

"Easy mistake, I guess," Ryan commented with a slight shrug.

"He still here?" Beckett wanted to know.

The medical examiner shook her head. "No, it was an anonymous call."

"Probably a jogger who didn't want any trouble," Esposito remarked.

Parish nodded. "That's my guess as well."

"Alright. So, what happens next?" Castle inquired.

"Well, since the man was unconscious when we found him, the ambulance personnel injected him with glucagon to reverse the insulin effects. He has come back to his senses, but they'll take him to the hospital just to be sure," Parish answered.

"So, we're done here?" Castle asked, looking at Beckett now for confirmation.

"Yes, back to writing reports."

"Oh, joy."

)()()()(

When Castle and the three detectives had returned to the Precinct, they clued in Captain Roy Montgomery about the false report. After some small talk between the Captain and Castle – mostly poker related – they all went out for a quick lunch and then it was time to go back to work, in this case that meant administrative duties.

As per usual, Castle sat down on the chair beside Beckett's desk and merely observed her as she typed up an official police report on her computer. During this process, Castle's thoughts frequently drifted off to his latest novel and its possible plotlines. He grabbed a little notebook from his pocket and jotted down the day's events. Not that he was planning on integrating the diabetic coma mix-up situation into his book, but one never knew when such information could come in handy, thus he wrote down the basic facts, which was mostly everything that Lanie Parish had told him that morning.

Putting the notebook back into his pocket, he shifted his attention back to his muse. The look of concentration on her face as she typed away captivated him for some reason. Perhaps, he thought, she was at her most beautiful when she was so focused on her work that she wasn't aware anyone was watching her, when she momentarily forgot he was shadowing her. He loved the way her hair swung with her every move as she shifted her glance between her computer screen and the thick file on her desk. His eyes never left her. Apparently, she did sense his eyes upon her and she turned to look at him, her green eyes meeting his blue ones. She smiled at him for a short moment, but then went back to work. Castle was surprised by the lack of reprimand he received.

A few moments later, Beckett looked his way once again. She grabbed another file off the rather large pile on her desk and handed it to him. "Here's something to occupy yourself with."

"An official police report? Pictures and all?" he commented excitedly as he opened the file and quickly flipped through the documents it contained.

"Yeah. Who knows, it might give you some ideas for your next book," she replied. "As long as you don't use any real names and such."

"Of course."

She nodded, satisfied with his answer, then returned to her own file and began typing again. Castle found the incident report and, being a writer at heart, he started on the second page, which contained the narrative. It turned out to be a relatively straightforward deadly robbery and thus provided him with little intriguing facts. Cases of the garden variety just weren't interesting material for a writer such as himself. He sighed in disappointment and wondered why Beckett hadn't given him a more unusual case as she had more than enough of them. They were her specialty, after all. Like her, those were the kind of cases he preferred. He closed the file and placed it back on her desk.

Castle looked around the bullpen and noticed that all of Beckett's colleagues were busy as well. On the one hand that was a good sign as his tax dollars were hard at work, on the other hand, it didn't break the slight boredom of just sitting there and watching Beckett work, no matter how beautiful she was to look at.

When Castle sighed a second time, Beckett couldn't help but look up and over at him. Her eyebrows raised, she looked him a question.

"How much longer?" he asked her.

"A while."

"Why don't we go for a drink or something?"

Skeptical about the seriousness of his suggestion, she looked at him for an instant. "This is my job, remember? I'm paid to do this work. I can't just ditch it whenever I feel like it," she told him and, for some reason unbeknownst to her, he started grinning. Beckett couldn't for the life of her figure out what was so funny about what she'd just said. "What?"

"Well, if that's the only reason you're turning me down, I must be making progress," Castle clarified his amusement. He decided to give it another go. "Come on, it's Friday. The Martini's are calling out to us. Can't you hear them screaming our names? Kate-y…" He'd added the last part in a soft, singsong voice.

"Isn't it a bit early to start drinking? It's only two o'clock."

"A drink tastes the same any hour of the day, if you ask me."

"Well, I enjoy a good glass of wine much more after a hard day's work."

"Ah, well there you have it… you might enjoy it more, but the taste is the same."

Beckett studied him for a moment, wondering how to respond to that, and remembered that a best-selling author was sitting across from her, which implied that he was good with words. She had always been able to tell from his books that he had a love of words and, at moments like these, it showed through in the cleverness of his comebacks. "Okay, you win."

"Always happy to hear that," Castle grinned. "So, we can go and have that drink now?"

"You can. I can't."

"Aww, come on," he pouted.

"I'm sorry," Beckett replied. "Really Castle, why don't you just go home? This is the least exciting part of my job and I can imagine that you're bored out of your mind by now. I think you've shadowed me long enough. Go have that drink, or write another chapter about Nikki Heat. Better yet, have that drink with her."

Castle seemed to ponder that option for a moment. "Actually, Alexis comes home from school soon, so I think I might just take you up on that offer. You really don't mind?"

"I'm sure I'll be able to get it done without you here."

"I know that, Detective. I just don't want you thinking I'm ungrateful for the opportunity, or that I'm only tagging along for the good parts. I like to have the complete picture."

Beckett smiled, understanding he was serious about what he'd just said. "I know, Castle. Say hi to Alexis and Martha for me, will you?"

Castle returned the smile. "I certainly will."

)()()()(

Arriving home twenty minutes later, Castle found his sixteen-year-old daughter, Alexis, in the kitchen doing her homework. An adoring smile tugged at his lips as he walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, before pecking her cheek lovingly. "Hello pumpkin."

Alexis smiled, moved by her father's affection. He was a wonderful, yet at times crazy, single parent. "Hi dad."

"How was school today?"

"Okay, I guess," she replied. "I did get an A for chemistry."

Castle smiled. "That's my girl! I'm very proud of you."

"Because you flunked it yourself?" his daughter teased him.

"Only in school, not in real life," Castle grinned. "I've had great chemistry with a lot of people."

Alexis groaned. "Dad…"

"And actually, I didn't flunk it in school either, now that I think about it. Must be genetic."

"I'm sure."

At that moment, Castle's mother walked into the kitchen area with a twirl in true Martha fashion. "You're home early, kiddo. No one died?"

"Not in the end," Castle said mysteriously, earning curious looks from his family. "Which is why Kate's doing paperwork and that gets kinda boring after a while."

"That's funny coming from you," Martha replied. "Your work being published on paper and all."

"Very witty, mother."

"Must be genetic, too," Alexis laughed.

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