A/N: Inspired by a tweet from Richard Castle ( WriteRCastle) on Twitter.

Happy Labor Day to those who celebrate it.


Her fingers have barely brushed the edge of her cellphone before he's snatching it up from the cup holder between them and tucking it away in his front pocket.

"Castle," she huffs, growling when the seatbelt locks and restricts her from retrieving her stolen phone from his shirt. "That could be the precinct."

"Exactly," he replies far too happily, shrugging her off when she manages to cover his shoulder with her palm. "You're off for the weekend and the Labor Day holiday, Beckett. It's your last mini vacation before you start your career as the new captain. This weekend is work free."

"Castle-"

"You promised," he interrupts her protest, lifting his index finger in the air between them, stealing a moment away from the road to narrow his gaze in her direction. "Remember?"

And she does. Though, his way of pulling the agreement from between her teeth with his mouth on her skin was and still is wholly unfair.

Kate reclines back into her seat with her arms crossed over her chest, pursing her lips to refrain from pouting like a child and glaring at a boat sailing in the distance, the lap of waves crashing against its sides. It's quite hard to remain annoyed as her eyes settle on the view she's grown to recognize and love over time.

"Glad to know spending time with your husband is such a burden," Castle teases, his tone dry and sardonic yet amused, but it has her tearing her gaze from the window and the beauty of the Hamptons coming into view, her eyes sliding over to train on his face instead.

Her attitude hasn't hurt him, not truly, but since her recent promotion, the realization that their time together could become even more limited seems to have set in for them both. Planning this weekend, the promise of quality time with her, had renewed that little boy form of excitement that, recently, had been hard to find and the last thing she wanted was for it to disappear again.

"I'm excited for the weekend, Rick. Just anxious about everything else," she admits, reclaiming that spot on his shoulder with her palm and stroking her thumb along the exposed path of his collarbone.

His lips quirk and he withdraws one hand from the steering wheel, covers her knuckles and gives her fingers a brief but reassuring squeeze.

"You're going to be amazing," he promises her and she swallows down her doubts.

They've had this conversation, gone over each and every insecurity plaguing her mind too many times to count since she had made her final decision between captain and running for senator, and she doesn't want to lay them all just for him to pick up yet again.

The Mercedes comes to a slow stop in front of a traffic light, yellow turning to red, and she uses the moment of pause to ease forward, testing the give of her seatbelt to smear a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"No more thinking about work," she murmurs, her nose nudging his jawline as she shifts to return to her seat.

His smile is breathtaking when she pulls back, the glimmer of the water in the near distance paling in comparison to the shining sea of his eyes, and oh, they need to arrive at their second home soon. Before she shows her appreciation in a way that is entirely too inappropriate for a car in the middle of an upscale beach village.

"Castle."

He hums in response, the subtle flare of his pupils as he takes notice of the lingering her eyes on his mouth causing her to believe his thoughts have followed hers into the ocean of blissful possibilities of how she plans to spend a good portion of her holiday.

"The light is green."

Rick's hand falls to her knee and his foot presses on the accelerator.


The sizzle of the burger on the grill crackles through the air, gets swept away in the light breeze, and he turns his head at the hum of approval from Kate, who is relaxing near the pool, laid out atop a lounge chair in a bikini he's taken off of her twice since they arrived on Friday evening, but is still no less tempting to strip from the tan planes of her skin now.

"Hey, did you ever hear back from Alexis?" she asks, the broad frames of her glasses hiding her eyes while Castle hastily diverts his back to the two patties frying on the barbecue grill.

"Uh, yes. This morning while you were on your run actually," he informs her, easing the spatula beneath her well-cooked veggie burger, preparing to transfer it to a plate. "Apparently, she already has plans. Labor Day party with her friends."

His eyes flicker back to her as he transfers her burger onto the toasted buns waiting on her plate, her preferred vegetable choices already arranged on the side. His burger nearly burns, his attention caught in the stretch of her arms above her head, the contrast of golden flesh against a white bikini, and the lowering of her feet to the warm cement flooring.

"And your mom? Any word from her?" she continues, and he may not be able to see her eyes, but he knows they're on him now, can tell by the rippling change in her posture, the purpose in her shoulders and the seduction in her walk towards him. "Don't burn your food, Rick."

Castle slides the spatula beneath the beef beginning to smoke, quickly flips the burger before deciding to move it to the safety of his plate. He had planned to barbecue far more than simple hamburgers for their private holiday festivities, but the rest of the food will have to wait.

"My - my mom? No, Mother is seeing her new beau for the holiday since they both had the day off."

"So, no interruptions?" she muses, close enough now to reach out, flutter her fingers along his sides, up to his chest to toy with the top button of his shirt, and he abandons all pretenses of preparing their meal, dropping the spatula and reaching for her hips instead.

"No distractions either," he adds, hooking his thumbs beneath the strings of her bottoms, untangling one of the thinly tied bows.

"None," she confirms with relish and it's so good, so relieving to see her free of the stress and apprehension that has grown in weight since Gates stepped down and the closer her return to work with her former superior's title has become.

She's had a few calls from the Twelfth, calls she's answered but kept clipped and brief, but otherwise, work has hardly crossed her mind this weekend and has failed to penetrate the blissful bubble their time in the Hamptons always tends to become.

His knee nudges between hers and Kate elevates onto the tips of her toes, her eyes on his mouth as his shirt comes undone and her naked skin is brushing against him, the contact setting his flesh to flame-

They both pause, ice water drenching the fire of his insides, as her phone rings from the wicker table, vibrating against her wineglass.

His hands cup her ass, haul her forward before her head can even turn to glance over her shoulder towards the buzzing of the device, and she groans, her teeth stabbing her bottom lip and her hands fisting in his hair. "Castle-"

"Don't answer it. Not now, not-"

"It could be Gates again-"

"She knows you're off for the weekend, she even encouraged you to relax," he reasons, guiding her hips into a gentle rocking rhythm that he knows drives her crazy, and by the stuttered breath that slips through her teeth, he knows he has her.

"C-could be the boys," she gasps, her nails piercing his scalp. "Help with the case."

The phone goes silent and Rick grips her thighs, prepares to hoist her into his arms and carry her towards the chaise lounge, until the phone begins dancing on the table once again and he relents.

"Fine," he grumbles, releasing her waist, but letting her slide down his thigh, the heat between her legs searing his skin. "Go help save the city from the overtaking of crime."

She doesn't speak, her lips a thin line, but her chest blooming pink with a flush that climbs up her neck as she spins on her heel and strides for the phone.

"Beckett," she answers, snaps, and oh, he must have had her really worked up if she's just as happy about answering that phone as he is.

Castle sighs and shifts uncomfortably near the barbecue pit, retrieving his own phone from the pocket of the swim trunks he tugged on this morning and opening his Twitter app. He can hear Kate going back and forth with one of the boys about the case that had just begun to unfold as she was leaving and he pouts, doesn't even try not to as he composes a tweet.

Dear criminals, he types with his thumb. Please take a break from all of your hard work. I've got a BBQ with my wife I'd like not to be interrupted.

He hits the 'Tweet' button just as Kate seems to press the 'end call' option on her screen.

"Case is closed, no one's going to call again," she murmurs, padding across the length of the outdoor lounge area and reaching for him without preamble. "My phone is off." She snatches his from his hand, deactivates the iPhone and drops it to the serving area with the burgers that may have to be reheated. "And so is yours, now-" He's the one to gasp this time as her arms band around his waist, her hands clutching his backside and allowing her the opportunity to grind against him in the most sinfully wonderful way. "I want you. Mm, in the water."

Her fingers wander up to tangle in the ends of his shirt, jerking the thin fabric downwards until it's gliding past his arms to drop to the ground and she's shoving him towards the tiled steps that descend into the saltwater pool.


She huffs against him and he rouses from his dozing, his body floating half submerged on the inflatable pool lounge with his wife stretched out atop him.

"What?" he murmurs, his voice rough but sated, content beneath the heat of the sun and the cover of her.

Her hand lifts from his chest, his phone alive and dangling in her fingers. "Your tweet."

"What are you even doing with my phone?" he grumbles, pushing them away from the edge of the pool with his toes, their float drifting back towards the middle of this cool little oasis they've created.

"It fell off the table. So I grabbed it from the ground while you were passed out," she chuckles and he flicks her tailbone, readjusts his fingers beneath the waistband of her bikini bottoms to graze the curve of her ass. Somehow, her top had ended up near the pool steps, but the other half of her two piece swimwear still clings to her skin, the only article of clothing that survived two rounds in the water.

"I was frustrated," he shrugs, using his free hand to trace the bare expanse of her back, his brow creasing at the heat of her skin. Sunscreen, before she burns, he should-

Her lips curl in amusement against the skin of his throat. "Mm, in more ways than one."

"As if I was alone," he scoffs, distracted now from the idea of spreading lotion over her skin when her body is shifting over his, her chest sealed against his, her thighs flexing and her toes scratching at his calf muscle.

"At least you tweeted the PG version," she muses, stretching her arm towards the tiled edge to deposit his phone safely back to dry land.

Rick's brow furrows once more. "PG version?"

Her legs are twisted in his, immersed beneath the water with the sunken end of their pool lounge, but she manages to lift her body just slightly, enough to hover above him with the wet curtain of her hair falling over one shoulder to drip along his jaw.

"Yeah," Beckett quips, her lips still curved in that delicious smile that has his heart rate picking up. "We both know it wasn't the barbecue that was being interrupted."