It was no ordinary day when you walked into Mr. Castle's class in room 121. In fact, no child has ever skipped a day of his class for that same reason. He was sitting on the edge of his desk, his long, jean clad, legs were swinging slightly off the side as he spoke to his class, introducing the new class focus; Russian literature versus American literature.

"Alright, guys. In a few minutes, Ms. Beckett will be bringing over her class." He ignored the few cat calls from the back of the class at the mention of her name. "Her and I flipped a coin earlier today and I lost. Our class is to focus on American literature and how it compares to Russian literature, and her class does the opposite. Whichever class can convince Coach Ryan, Coach Esposito, and Dr. Parish, will win an all expense trip to the ice cream shop."

His class instantly cheered and started planning out things with one another while he stood up from his desk, walking to the door. Looking out the small glass pane on the wooden door, Castle could see Beckett talking to her class across the hall. As if she could sense his gaze, she turned her head and smiled softly at him, waving at him as he did the same.

"You like her, don't you?" He jumped at the voice behind him.

"Whoa! Hey, Alexis. I didn't see you there." He placed his arm over her shoulder and turned the both of them away from the door and back to where the rest of his students were at. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, Mr. Castle." Alexis, the sweetheart that she is, rolled her eyes. "We can all see it."

"We can all see what?" This time, another voice made him jump as well. Turning around, he looked down and looked into the face of his smiling co-worker, her emerald eyes shining with amusement at his jumpiness.

"Nothin'," both he and Alexis replied, looking at each other quickly as they did.

Beckett's eyes narrowed slightly, taking in both student and teacher, before shaking her head and talking to her class.

"Okay, guys. Like I told you back in the class, go to one side of the room and discuss Russian literature, comparing it to American literature. And remember: "Vy mozhete sdelatʹ eto."

The Russian words flew off her tongue so gracefully that it forcefully took the breath out of Castle's lungs. He gaped at her like a fish, struggling to catch his composure as she turned back to meet him, standing within inches of each other. He could feel her soft breath brushing along his t-shirt clad chest, and he had to clench his hands to keep them from migrating to her.

"What? Cat got your tongue, Castle?" She tilted her head back and laughed. "Milyi."

Narrowing his eyes, Castle knew that she was just playing him, trying to sweep his feet out from under him as she leaned back against his desk with a smug smirk on her face. Two can play at that game.

He leaned into her personal space, his mouth by her ear and his breath caressing the smooth skin of her earlobe. He placed his hands on either side of her legs, resting them on the top of his desk, stepping into her slightly widened legs. He couldn't hear her breath.

Good.

"You know, Katherine," he started, his voice husky and deep, "your father should have named you Alice."

"Why?" It was a breathy reply, her hot breath against his ear as well.

"Because I want to take you to Wonderland."