Just a quick note to thank those who have taken the time to leave feedback. Sorry I haven't responded individually this week, it's been one of those crazy times, but EVERY comment is read and treasured. Thank you ; ) Please remember the adult rating on this one. It's not highly romantic (yet) but there is a plethora of beautifully written romantic Castle fanfic out there. This one is more gratuitous, I guess *g*.

Happy 4:09 week.


Anticipation is like a blindfold. One peep and it's gone.

Kate's eyes glaze over. She can taste Castle all the way along her tongue, can still feel the imprint of heat on her palm where it had rested against the front of his pants, can smell the touch of cologne on his collar ... maybe she is sick. Feverish, but she feels a hell of a lot more normal when she stands beside her colleagues and listens to their conversations about Norbert Pattinson.

'He's cut his hair,' says Ryan, on a sigh. 'Wait 'til I tell Jenny about it. Oh, whoa, Beckett. Hey? Doesn't he looks like ... like—?'

'I told the entourage to stay behind,' says Gates, grimacing at her team, then turning on her game face as she confronts the incoming movie crew. 'How are we supposed to do police work with Entertainment Tonight here?'

She hisses that final comment and moves forward.

'He's way taller than I imagined him to be,' Esposito says, as he looks Beckett up and down with a smirk on his face that has Kate immediately questioning. 'He's a bit hotter than RPatz, doncha think? Older? More mature ... but, yeah, his hair has changed, and dude! He reminds me a bit of— hey, whoa, he looks exactly like—'

'He looks like Demming,' says Castle, at the exact moment Kate sees the resemblance.

She suppresses a gasp. The similarity is uncanny. Norbert Pattinson is so different to his publicity pictures, the B-grade fodder that hits the net whenever he's out on the town talking about his cousin Robert or escorting a new bimbo to a premiere. He's not only hot, he's familiar. But Pattinson is as exciting to Beckett as yesterday's news.

She'd liked Tom, had found him attractive, but a Hollywood-based lookalike isn't going to do it for her today. Or ever.

So many things happen simultaneously she's forced to make quick choices — to follow her fever and leave the precinct for a couple of hours without Castle, or to make the fastest recovery ever. To hold her hands behind her back to stop herself touching him, or to wring them in front of her body in an attempt to subdue the sexual energy coursing through her.

To ignore the celebrity in front of her and simply stare at the profile of the man she wants, or to follow the earlier orders of her captain and assist with Norbert Pattinson's preparation.

She wants to stay with Castle. She could walk out of here, trust him to find a way to leave, but Norbert is in front of them before she can think her decision through.

Kate takes a moment to imagine him with Natalie Rhodes, the celluloid Rook and Heat. Pattinson's height is advantageous. He'll look good with Natalie, but that's where her level of interest ends. She's not Heat or Rhodes and she has no desire to spend extended leisure hours with Rook or Pattinson, whereas she could spend all of her downtime in the foreseeable future with Castle.

With huge emphasis on down. Time.

'Yello, peeps,' Norbert says, extending his hand, while flapping his other to slap two of his entourage on their butts as they wander past to see 'that there's no paparazzi on the premises.' Kate watches Gates follow them around, demanding that they stay put until she debriefs everyone on 'where they should be.'

'Sooo nice to meet the talent,' says Norbert, casting his eyes over the entire team. 'S'up today? When do we get to go on the police cars and swizzle the scenes? And I get to carry a piece, roight? A semi-auto. The stoodio says I can, yeah?'

Kate tries to get as close to Norbert as possible, if only to check his pupil dilation. She detects the faint traces of a British accent, but the vacant stare and speech pattern has Beckett wondering. This, and the fact that Castle is looking directly at her while Norbert looks at him.

Castle's gaze licks hotly at her cheeks. He has moved so that he's facing her instead of by her side. She, Ryan and Esposito square off opposite Norbert, with Castle creating a semicircle so that he looms large within her periphery.

She can't help but look back at him. Smiling, she arches an eyebrow his way while Norbert mutters 'somepin' about Esposito's polo shirt 'rooly showing off his cannons', but rather than receiving a smoldering look from Castle, he frowns and purses his lips.

What now? seems to be the recurring theme of the morning. She doesn't think it's a good idea to drag him back to the interrogation room table or down to her bike, but that doesn't stop her imagining doing just that. As though he's reading her thoughts, Castle tilts his head as if to suggest she try.

Beckett throws him her wide-eyed, pointed look and tries to mouth her question so that Norbert doesn't notice. To her relief, the actor seems more interested in chatting to Esposito and Ryan than he does to Kate. She hopes that this continues. The last thing she needs is a Natalie Rhodes-type of situation, where Norbert will come on to her in the elevator and need to sleep with her to get into character for Rook.

Especially seeing as he looks so much like Demming. Lovely guy, Tom, a real sweetie ...

Oh, okay, the penny drops and hits home.

Beckett roots around in her head for strategies that she'd use to annoy the hell out of Castle and increase the jealousy stakes between them, but there's zero interest. Maybe it's due to her heart claiming space in her brain and her sex drive setting up camp in her old gaming centre. All her buttons seem to have Castle's name on them, except her 'EJECT' one. That particular button is pushing away any previous fire she had for games of envy and waiting.

Kate doesn't have a PAUSE button on her gaming console either. It must have morphed into fast forward.

She shakes her head in Castle's direction and frowns. He replies by shrugging his shoulders and mouthing 'Dem. Ming' at her, as though by reminding Kate that this actor looks like her ex-boyfriend, she'll immediately want something more.

From the actor. Not from Castle, but if Castle continues to pout like he is now, Beckett may just have to step across the gathering and lip-swipe the sulky look off that mouth. That damn mouth should be working on other things, like stamina exercises for the particular events she has in mind—

'Dem. Ming.'

It's whispered this time and ten times more annoying than when he'd mouthed it.

Kate supposes she could feel offended, but she's too busy focusing on her end game. She's no time for jealousy or activities that don't involve nudity, mutual satisfaction and more of that hand kissing. Any sort of kissing, she thinks, as the session in Interrogation Room #1 floods her memory.

He had asked her if she thought about what it would be like when they take it further. She had almost laughed out loud at the idea that she hadn't thought about it. She can barely think of anything else.

'What?' she secrets his way.

'Dem-ming damn it,' he mimes, and then has to put his hand over his own mouth to stop Ryan reading his lips. Rather than worrying about Demming, Castle should be thinking about what they've just been doing with each other's lips before this ridiculous interruption.

She exhales through her nose. Just as Kate is about to mouth the words 'not interested', Esposito turns to her and mutters something about Norbert being way too obsessed with carrying a piece. Castle leans forward to try and discern what she is miming at him, Gates joins the circle and Esposito asks Kate if anything is wrong.

'Why would there be?' she snaps, having to stifle her 'not interested' with a yawn to deflect the attention of Gates and the boys. Castle continues to look confused. Beckett continues to be exasperated.

'Sorry to interrupt your sleep, Detective Beckett,' says Gates, looking more agitated than usual. 'Something has come up with the requirements for Mr Pattinson's stay—'

'So, Chug-a-lug?' says Norbert in Castle's direction. He seems to have as much regard for Gates's precinct authority as he does for his assistants. 'When do you and me go down the range? Shoot us some machine guns?' He moves closer to Castle, invading his personal space. 'Wouldnya find that story arc hot? I mean, give Rook something to shoot, something that's semi-auto and so ... so ... phallic?'

Beckett stunts a smile. Norbert Pattinson is calling Rick Castle 'chug-a-lug'? He wants to use semi-automatic weaponry and has Iron Gates looking like she's about to combust. This day just keeps getting better. If only she could get her some quiet time.

'Um,' says Castle, while Beckett watches his mind ticking over. In his jeans. 'There's no reason for Rook to use a semi-automatic ... and hey, I'm Richard Castle, by the way, the author of the—'

'Oh, my gott. I knowed who you are, baby blue eyes.' Norbert takes Castle's hand and draws him into a man-hug. The actor slaps Castle so hard on the back, it works to dislodge the rest of his introduction, but Rick's words are lost in Norbert's enthusiasm. 'Chug-a-lug? Would not be here if weren't for ya. Cannot wait to retail you with ideas for Rook and his stash of machine—'

'That'd be regale, Pattinson. Not retail,' says Castle. Kate watches him shuffle out of the hug and try to loosen hands with the actor. When Norbert doesn't let go, Castle covers his uncertainty with more words. 'And, yeah. Rook is not the main gun guy, so I'm not sure we'd ever do anything with semi automatics. Or even be allowed, though it might be kinda cool.'

Gates steps forward to prise Norbert's hand away from Castle. 'We haven't met, Mr Pattinson,' she says. 'But I've had word about your request from the studio. Yes, it seems that even though your character ... um, Mr Rook? Even though he doesn't use any sort of semi-automatic weaponry, we have been asked to escort you to Rodman's Neck for, um ...'

Kate watches Gates choke on her words. Surely she's not going to allow ...

'For some training in the use of weaponry.'

Gates pauses. Beckett tries to meet her eyes, but they're glued to a spot over the top of Norbert's bobbly head which is almost shaking off due to the excitement of the news. Kate wonders what the studio has on Captain Gates. How they're getting her to make these decrees, why she's allowing Norbert to go into the NYPD tactical field near The Bronx and use dangerous—

'It seems that the studio will be making a very generous contribution to the precinct's refurbishment fund and will list the 12th on the credits for the movie during this time of mutually-beneficial relationships between Norbert and our team,' finishes Gates, turning her eyes upon Beckett. 'Therefore, Detective Beckett and Mr Castle, you will be taking Mr Pattinson to our outdoor range and ensuring his needs are met.'

Beckett wonders if Norbert might be one of those actors that can get lost in the bar of a city hotel, sucking on his favourite poison and giving her and Castle an hour alone upstairs. When Gates suggests Ryan and Esposito would be better off staying in the precinct in case of a call, Beckett lets her hopes escalate, but when Norbert tells them that his assistants will be motoring along too, she grits her teeth.

Gravy and Train, two of Norbert's 'boys wot help me', swan around and clap in time with the actor's pronouncement that they're 'gonna get 'em some machine gun fellatio. Not being rude or anyfing, Missus,' he says into Gates's face, 'but I knowed this guy who had a rock band named that. And it's all about the sexy wif semi-automatics, innit?'

Beckett steps away from the group and tugs at Castle's sleeve so he will slip behind without being noticed. Gates is in the middle of balancing diplomacy with Norbert distaste, while the actor is busy invading Esposito's personal space. He seems particularly taken 'wif how this boy's muscles bulge from inside his shirt, roight.'

Kate hears Esposito tell Norbert that though he works out regularly, 'bro', he was rejected by a modelling agency for being a type that was too common.

Beckett snorts. She nods for Castle to follow her into the break room, and without looking back to see if Gates has noticed, she beelines for coffee and alone time with Richard—

'Chug-a-lug? That two-bit actor called me Chug-a-lug and is out there admiring Esposito's biceps?' says Castle, reaching for the coffee machine, but stops when Beckett puts her hand on his arm. They don't have time. For anything.

'And can you believe it?' he continues, using her hand on his arm to draw her closer, murmuring his words over her palm as he brings it to his lips. 'He's the spitting image of Demming.'

Castle kisses her hand and uses his free fingers to creep inside the opening of her leather jacket. He brushes his thumb over her belt and curves his grip round the back of her jeans to rest on her lower back. She leans towards him, moving their hands out of the way of his mouth, fakes to kiss him fully, but teases with words to the side of his lips.

'He's a jackass. Hot enough, okay, but as interesting as a blank page in a crime novel.'

He snakes the hand that was resting low on her spine across the outer edge of her abdomen and uses a two-fist grip on the opening of her leather jacket to jerk her fully against him. The rush turns her on more than she'd like to admit. She moves in to kiss him properly, but he plays the fake and turn as easily as she'd done to him before. 'As interesting as that? And what do you like in your crime novels, Detective?

'I think you know.'

She closes the space and he can't evade her lips for long. She kisses him without prelude, her mouth opens just enough for the smack of teeth to collide with his tongue and for her desperation to be obvious. She reads him like 'Heat Wave'. He's as blatant and addicted as she feels, and the pages are turning faster than a good read paperback on a hot summer night. They're spiraling, just like they were in the interrogation room. She's pressing him back into the counter that houses the coffee machine, slipping tiny noises of desire in with her tongue, and he's reciprocating. In kind. But that's where it ends. He's not popping her buttons or running his hands through her hair or touching her anywhere she's so wants to be stroked. Cupped. Or licked.

'Now. More.'

'No. Stop.'

'Castle?'

He pushes her away with a groan. He rights his shirt, fusses with his hair and looks into her eyes. 'Again, Beckett, we have to get out of here. I can't do this ...' he moves his hands up and down, flicking at the bottom of her shirt so it rides up above her belt. The air creates a wave of goosebumps against her flesh. Her flesh needs air. Her goosebumps pimple downwards, beneath her denim, creating a shiver and shudder into her—

'Let's get the Demming Doll to Rodman's Neck, let him shoot himself blank — not that he needs a gun for that,' says Castle, his sarcasm and air of urgency making Beckett smile shakily. 'We can find someway to get privacy. He won't need too much supervision, surely?'

Beckett realigns her jacket on her shoulders and runs her hand through her mane. It's a futile gesture. She's so bedraggled, she might as well have been in bed and been raggled. Pity she hasn't been, but there's no use standing around and wishing an orgasm to visit her in the precinct. It's time to get out in nature and become a hunter gatherer — venture forth, seek out, experience, repeat.

'There's nothing much out there, Castle,' she says, thinking of the shooting range and the limited amount of available privacy. She moves towards the door with a grin. 'Not unless you're a rabbit. And even then ...' She turns at and whispers directly into his ear just as Gates calls her to attention. 'You might end up as target practise rather than doing the thing rabbits do so very well.'

He smiles. 'Like fluffy tail burrowing, Beckett? Like trying to find fleshy, fat, firm carrots?'

'There's that. But there are not many spots for humans to make like rabbits. Just saying.'

'We're taking a squad car, right? Even though I wish we could take your bike to the place where the rabbits ... tunnel.'

'Yeah, the squad car. But we'll have three extra passengers.'

Castle lets her through the door in front of him and spans his hand against her curve of her butt. She wants to stop, but he nudges her gently forward. 'We'll give them the slip. When the moment is right, Rabbit, I'll whisper the codeword so you'll know to run and burrow.'

Trying to extract every last inch of warmth from the palm of his hand, she presses back and stifles a chuckle. 'And the codeword is?"

'Warren.'


Warren keeps her waiting for ten minutes in the squad car with Norbert, Gravy and Train, so by the time he appears in the passenger's seat, Beckett doesn't know whether she wants to jump in his lap or smack his face. She's beyond horny and dissatisfied. She's irritable.

'I'm sorry,' he whispers, ignoring the cheers from the backseat and withdrawing three black hoods and a couple of iPhones. 'But trust me. I have a bandaid for you, Detective Beckett.'

She spins the wheels and they leave the precinct in flurry of huffs and rolled eyes. Beckett doesn't ask what he's been planning, but if it has anything to do with relieving the droll conversation from the peanut gallery and her internal pressure, Castle will be back in her lust books quicker than a Norbert Pattinson slip of the tongue.

Speaking of which.

'Do you trust me?' he secrets. They're pulling out of precinct parking and all she can do is nod despite the myriad of answers to that question. 'Then take every turn I say without question. I'm about to spin a story. You're about to encounter a lot of traffic congestion, but ... let's just say, it's all part of the Rabbit Plan to relieve your congestion. Oh, and have you hopping.'

Kate internalizes her what now? question for the hour. She listens to Castle tell Norbert, Gravy and Train what they must do 'en route to the machine gun district'. How they must 'cover their heads in order to uphold national security,' how they are 'a special trio to be allowed near the Rodman's Neck, as civilians.'

Beckett drives, watching the story-weaver work his magic from the front seat, enticing the boys into blindfolds and iPhone apps that track noisy police scanners in the district. Within three blocks, Castle has blinded and deafened their passengers with warnings that they must 'never stop listening to the covert information, nor look from beneath the blackness until I tap your legs thrice'. He has also turned Kate into the most ridiculous route to the shooting range, but by the time they're three miles from the precinct, they're gridlocked in traffic.

'Just relax,' Castle says, placing a finger to her lips so she'll keep very quiet, while running the fingers of his right hand up the inner seam of her jeans. 'We'll be here for a least five minutes — in this very spot, anyway — and I'll keep my eyes on the road, and our friends in the back.'

'Castle, I ...'

'Trust me. I have a traffic app that's very accurate and I have a cure for the road doldrums that will provide relief from the, um, stoppage.'

She shivers, tempted to bat his hand away and tell him she's happy to wait, but the entire atmosphere reeks of sexy wrongness. And inappropriateness while escorting himbo Hollywood people. And fantastic hotness, peppered with the chance of raunchy 'being discovered'. Topped with dexterous fingers that are—

God. Oh.

'Traffic reports indicate,' he whispers directly into her ear, swapping words for the curl of his tongue until she's craning for more. 'That we will get there. Eventually. It might be slow on the approach ...'

He places the strongest parts of his fingers on the spot where her denim seams intersect, and fuck, they sit over the very spot that is silently moaning against the need for bare skin. She buckles under the exquisite pressure while he works the best graze of her life.

'But it'll pick up. The pace, and it will be better past the pointed spike of the slippery, wet ... road.'

Castle's fingers dance. Beckett's head spins, and she leans forward against the steering wheel as he uses the friction of the denim against her. She thinks she should probably check on Shamp, Larry and Moe in the back seat (or is that Edward, Bella and Jacob? Who the fuck cares?) but Castle is whispering things about it all being fine, the traffic being halted, and the backseat being entertained.

'Around the circular ... dip... in the road, that's where things will really start to fire up,' he suggests, rotating his fingers, using their tips to press denim into lace into the cauldron between her legs. Beckett bites against her balled-up fingers, so close to splitting an atom in the driver's seat, that she's afraid of radiation leakage. It's similar. Heat and wet and shaking with a force that's set to detonate a—

'Cass!' she mutters, unable to finish. His name, either.

'We're nearly at the end of this journey,' she hears him smile. 'One more go around the sexual speedway, getting off at the on-ramp and speeding into a few holes in the road, at just this speed, this rhythm... ah, there we goooooo...'

Kate feels her mouth gape and clamp over the steering wheel. Her legs fall further open to try and get more of what he's offering. Her upper body throbs in time with Castle's final words, her breath catches in the back of her throat, the beads of sweat between her cleavage and along her upper lip scream reminders of damp and moist and lush.

She recovers quickly and steals a carnal kiss with the promise of what's yet to come, wishing she could drive them home or return the favour with the skills she owns and wants to share. He smiles so contentedly, Kate's heart belts into first gear in line with the sudden movement of traffic.

'Five minutes?' She may have set some sort of personal record.

Castle sighs. 'Rabbits are always quick to come. When called.' He winks at her and she extends her non-driving hand to rest in his lap. She feels him puff his chest out and her heart amps up the cadence that only he can create.

'You know? That was—'

'Oy, Chug-a-lug?' says a voice from the back. 'Are we there yet?'

Oh yes, Beckett thinks to herself. Yes, I really am.

Coming Up: Will Norbert place the wrong end of the semi-automatic weapon into his mouth? Will Beckett seek revenge on Castle's driving antics? Will Gravy and Train reveal the origins of their names? Will Castle blow a gasket on the return journey and have to be picked up on Beckett's bike, ready to ride side-saddle? Will the rabbits find their warren and burrow around? All this and more, in the next Roger Rabbit chapter of Coptus Interruptus.