Naughty Richard
By Dana Keylits

A/N: Yesterday, I was talking to my friend Kristy about Stana's "Naughty Richard" tweet, and I nonchalantly queried about how long it would be before we saw a fanfic using that as its title. As I'm sure a light bulb blinked on above my head, I knew then that *I* would be writing one. There are probably others with the same name, but this little one-shot is a re-imagining of that 1x01 scene when Kate first interrogates Rick. Where it all began. I hope you enjoy. -dk

"I'd be happy to let you spank me."

Kate glared at him, absently gnawing on the inside of her cheek as she considered her reply. This guy was a piece of work, a cocky, self-obsessed overgrown adolescent who probably thought the sun rose and set with him. Kate couldn't stand that kind of guy, that guy who traded in on his good looks and money, thinking women would just fawn at his feet. It was gross.

He was gross.

Except.

Except there was something about him. Something that, as much as she hated it, immediately attracted her to him. And, it was more than his baby-blues, perfect hair, and deliciously sexy five o'clock shadow - though, that was definitely not hard to look at. Plus, he smelled, well, he smelled yummy. He smelled edible. But that wasn't it.

There was something inexplicably more about him than just the sum of his surfacy parts that was pulling Kate towards him like a moth to a flame. It was something hard to define. Something deeper, unquantifiable, like they were two ancient souls finally coming together after a millennia apart.

Like she knew him. And, not from his books, which she'd read, but from some place richer, some place familiar.

From the moment she'd flashed her badge at his pleasantly surprised, super sexy face, interrupting a book launching party at which he'd seemed completely bored, Kate had felt a stirring inside that she hadn't felt in a very long time.

His charm, his wit, his charisma were undeniably intoxicating. And secretly, she enjoyed drinking it in, drinking him in – though she'd never tell him or anyone else that. But his cockiness and cavalier attitude about the law, his absolute certainty that every heterosexual woman he came across would immediately want to fall into bed with him, were positively infuriating.

And yet, she was feeling things.

Very. Pleasurable. Things.

So, as she stood there, her arms folded, one eyebrow raised, the inside of her cheek trapped between her teeth, she had a decision to make about how she was going to respond.

And, in a flash of inspiration, she decided to fight fire with fire.

She let go of her cheek and bit down on her lower lip instead. Unfolding her arms, she sauntered to him, her face splitting into a kittenish grin. When she got to his side of the table, she slowly shoved it backwards, never taking her eyes off of him, and then half-sat, half-stood in front of him, her right hip hiked on the table as her left foot braced itself on the floor. She leaned forward, examining his baby-blues, fighting the urge to get lost in them, and lowering her voice, her gaze wandering to his lips as she asked, "Would you like that, Mr. Castle?"

His jaw dropped and a gust of air burst past his lips. She could see the flicker of doubt cross his face and she smiled inwardly.

She had him.

She leaned closer, her voice a husky whisper. "Because, I could certainly arrange for a very... thorough...paddling." She paused, sensing his bated breath and leaned back slightly. "If that's what you really want..."

He whimpered.

"...Ricky."

He rubbed the tip of his nose and a series of short coughs ascended his throat. "Detec-, I, ah." He shifted in his seat. "No, I..Wait. You..?"

"In fact, if you really wanted to make things interesting," she whispered, as she reached around her waistband to pull out her handcuffs, glancing at the door as though making sure no one was watching. "We could use these," she dangled the handcuffs from her forefinger and arched an eyebrow. She side-nodded at the table-top, noting inwardly that he quite possibly was the most delicious smelling man she'd ever met. "Get something started right here? Right now?" She ignored the tingle that rippled from her center and gazed playfully at him.

He leaned away from her, and she watched with amusement as he struggled to figure out what to do with his hands. First they were in his lap, then clasped together, then back in his lap before he nervously wiped his palms against his pants.

She hiked her eyebrows, her sultry hazel eyes again dropping to his parted lips. "Well?"

He fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, mumbling under his breath, and inside she was roaring with laughter.

She glared at him for a beat and then straightened up. "Called your bluff, jackass," she blurted, launching herself from the table and then marching back to her seat, straightening the furniture as she went. She opened the file in front of her and gave him an annoyed look. "Now, can we please get back to these murders, Mr. Castle? Or, would you rather waste more of my time with your little bad-boy routine?"

He broke out into a wide grin and shuffled forward in his seat, his cocky swagger returning with full force. "Oh, you're good, Detective," he shook his head, a thousand watt smile brightening the room, "...you're very good."

She smirked, saying nothing.

There was that feeling again. That pull.

That tickle .

That twinge.

A tingle that radiated from inside out.

Fire with fire, Kate, she reminded herself.

"Yes," she finally deadpanned. "I am very good." She quirked an eyebrow, scooting forward in her seat and lowering her voice. "Unfortunately for you, Rick, that's something you will never find out for yourself."

He reclined and propped one elbow on the chair back, regarding her with that sexy grin on his face and she schooled her features, silently cursing as her stomach did a somersault. His eyes shiny, crinkling at their corners, he then leaned forward and laced his fingers together as he placed his hands on the table top in front of him. He met her steely gaze. "Never say never, Detective Beckett," he warned. "I have a funny feeling that you and I are at the precipice of a great love story."

And despite her disgust at his confidence and swagger, something inside was telling her he was right. That this moment was just the beginning...

...of always.

A/N: Thanks to all of you. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Thanks to Kristy. For her friendship. xo.