Numbers

Summary: Based on prompt "Are you really asking for my number?" 4x11. They actually talk about it later and realize that they both have high numbers and laugh about it. Compare most awkward/funny/weird encounters. No sexuality shame for Beckett. No Beckett using sex to deal with demons."


"If I show you mine, will you show me yours?" he asked at the reception for Jenny and Kevin, his head propped up by the palm of his hands, and eyes a little glassy from the free booze that he had got them from the bar. They were the only ones left at the table, the rest of their dining companions had left towards the bar, or to find someone they knew in the crowd of people.

"Show me what?" Her eyes trailed down to his lap where a scrunched up napkin was left after the delicious cake had been served. She had taken cake from the lemon tier, but he had opted for chocolate. The white chocolate frosting was divine, and she was doing her best trying to scrape the rest of it off of the plate.

"Your number." She hummed knowingly, remembering the conversation earlier that day, which had followed this pattern pretty closely.

"You're really sure you want to know?" Abandoning the plate she went for the glass of wine, finding the bottom of the glass at the end of the sip. With all the waiting between meals, the speeches and toasts, this was her fourth glass. Thankfully the decadent food had dampened the affect the alcohol had on her, but it swarmed between her ears still.

"I want to know," he said with a sure nod. "I think I'd be good for us to know… about each other." She had wondered, in private. A man as him surely must have a higher number, the way he carried himself and the confidence he exuded when talking to women wasn't fabricated. She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth, regarding him as she contemplated the possible repercussions of sharing this sort of information. Past men had balked when they were given information that told them that they weren't her first, or her second, as if they would need to prove something to her then. It was ridiculous, but she wanted him to prove her wrong.

"You sure you can handle it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

"Don't you worry about me," he smirked at her, leaning back in his chair in thinly concealed smugness of being granted one more peek underneath the mysterious exterior that Katherine Beckett wore.

"You go first." She swirled the empty wine glass in her hand.

"Wait, what do we count? Does there have to be a happy ending for someone, is it any type of sex, or what?"

"Whatever you count as sex?" She frowned, but unhappy with that classification she continued. "It has to involve genitalia."

"I hate that word," he said, and his whole body did an exaggerated shudder. "But, okay." He reached his hand forward, and she grasped it in hers giving it a firm shake. "I've slept with 20 people."

"Only 20?" She arched her eyebrows.

"20 is a nice number, thank you very much," he looked at her in suspicion, seemingly trying to determinate if she had a higher number than that.

"No, it's just that with how you are I would've expected the number to be higher than that." She shrugged.

"New rule: no judging on the other person's number." He grumbled under his breath, and then raised a finger up — a bit unsteady from the alcohol consumed. "I have been married 2 times, you know, that requires one partner only."

"True," she admitted. "My number's 16."

"And you thought 20 was little!?" She grabbed his knee to get him to quiet down, glaring at him when an elderly couple from the table next to them glared their way.

"Castle!" she stage whispered. "I'm younger than you, and I'm also a cop, I don't have as much time to go to parties and meet men." She resumed her glare. "And I thought we said no judging?"

"Well, I thought you were being unfair," he huffed, crossing his arms across his chest.

"So 20 huh?" She did a quick oncer-over, a thought she couldn't stop running across her mind that she wanted to make that a nice 21. "Any notable mentions amongst them?" His lips twitched at memories, and he fell forward again towards her, his head once again propped up by the palm of his hand.

"Number 1 must go to Debbie Carlyle, the girl who made me a virgin no more," his eyes glazed over slightly as he got lost in a memory. "She thought I was a bad boy because I had been kicked out of so many schools, and for her I played that role. Of course, until she realized that I had been a virgin, then she didn't like me anymore." He smiled sheepishly.

"Take it she wanted someone more experienced?" Beckett sniggered, earning a glare from Castle.

"Your turn," was all he said.

"If we're going with your theme then… Corey Daniels, my first real boyfriend. He smelled like moth balls." Castle could recall a brief story about a moth-smelling boy she had dated in high school, but not more than that. "Dated him for 6 months, overall it was a fumbling experience."

"He couldn't find anything?"

"He couldn't find anything." She laughed. "But he was far from the worst, I wish that was the worst experience."

"Do tell." She shook her head at his eagerness, but decided to give in anyway. Maybe because of the alcohol, probably because of it, but also because of how easy it was with him. Fun.

"I was 22 and a rookie cop and went home with an older cop. Back then I thought older meant more experienced." She grinned widely at him before continuing the story that already had him captivated. "I was wrong, so very, very, wrong. He thought foreplay was boring, and well, it's one of the few times I've decided to call it quits and go home before any… happy ending." She gesticulated with her hands to emphasize that it was a metaphor for what he meant, even though she knew that he would understand anyway.

"One girl bit my penis," he said then. The cackle that built up in her throat couldn't be stopped, and she had to bite her knuckle to keep from screaming from laughter. "Beckett, I never…" He tutted at her.

"I'm sorry, but that is… awful!" She wiped tears away from the corner of her eye. "Did she like…?" She bit in the air, loudly snapping at him. He visibly flinched away from her.

"No, more like… gnaw." She snorted, once again trying to keep the laughter at bay, but it bubbled in her chest and spilled out in snorted fits. "I'm glad you find this funny."

"I'm sorry Castle." She grabbed his knee again, but this time she stroked it apologetically. He tried to view her apology with suspicion, but she looked too adorable gazing up at him with eyes still brimmed with tears that had threatened to spill from laughter.

"Any other notable mentions?" he said to smooth it over,

"Since you told me that I guess I have to try to top it?" He nodded in confirmation. "In college at a party this guy and I thought that we were out in the woods, outdoor sex in the woods is overrated by the way, until afterwards when we realized that only a bush and 10-15 yards separated us from another house having a party. They cheered for us as we got dressed."

"An audience, huh?" She hid her face in her hands, trying to not flush red scarlet now that he knew. "And neither of you noticed the entire time?"

"I was a little busy, and kind of drunk, he had apparently noticed." She laughed again. "That was by far the most embarrassing experience I've been through."

"Your parents never walked in on you?" She shook her head. "Be glad for that, mother walked in on me, then walked out and came back a few minutes later throwing a packet of condoms at me. It hit me in the head and I started bleeding!" She peeked her head out from under her hair to look at him. "The packet was half used up, by the way, and the girl left and didn't talk to me again, ever."

"Most of the embarrassing sex stories seems to be from when you're younger, but then you never got to meet the really, really, freaky people."

"Freaky, huh?" He waggled his eyebrows.

"Don't tell me you've never been with freaky people, this is New York."

"No, no I've been with freaky people… my first wife isn't just insane," he said matter of factly.

"Seriously Castle?" He only winked as a reply.

"But those freaky people can be really good in bed," he shrugged. "They're up for most things."

"Yeah well, I don't want too freaky, there's a thin line between open and creative, and just plain freaky."

"Creativeness is important." They both hummed, getting lost in their respective memories, until pulled out of their thoughts by Esposito's voice.

"What're you talking 'bout?" Even he seemed a little inebriated

"Castle's books," Beckett rushed to say, putting a foot over Castle's to keep him quiet. This stays between us the look she gave him said.