Disclaimer: GREYS ANATOMY IS A VERY DISTRACTING SHOW

I love it when you're frustrated

He wakes to the bed moving, opens his eyes to find Kate hovering over him, stretching across to his bedside table to reach her phone. He's not entirely sure why it's on his side of the bed (though, now he thinks about it he realises they ended up at some point switching places during the night), but he lets her answer it. She props herself up at his side, runs a thumb across his temple as she listens to the address dispatch is giving her. She's not wearing much, one of his soft cotton jumpers that she keeps squirreling away in his drawer and won't let him take home. Not that he minds, or cares. She can keep all of his wardrobe in that one drawer if she really feels the need to. But he's well aware that the jumper is the only thing that she's wearing, and he's feeling in a particularly adventurous (some would say daring, some would say stupid) so he lets his hand drift up underneath the hem. Her gaze flicks to him momentarily, and he grins. One second, and he's up at her ribcage, that ticklish spot that he knows makes her squirm. She stretches past him again, not so subtly getting an elbow in his own ribcage reaching for the pad of post it notes that are a permanent resident on her bedside table. He waits until she's scribbled the address down before looping an arm around her waist and rolling them over. Kate huffs, but lets him continue, tilts her head back so he can get at her neck.

"Castle…" she warns, her voice low and gravelly and all the things they shouldn't be if she has any hope of stopping this before they get completely carried away and they're late at the crime scene. "Castle, there's a body."

"Definitely a body. Very, very nice body." He mumbles, pushing the collar of the jumper aside with his chin.

"Not my body. Dead… there is a dead body. Dead body and I have to… go."

Castle carries on downwards; pushing the hem of the jumper up until it's wrapped around her chest. "Five minutes," he mumbles, pressing his mouth to the soft skin underneath her bellybutton, "five minutes, and then I promise I will not try and get you out of your clothes."

"You haven't got me out of my clothes now." Kate replies, dragging her fingers through her hair.

"You're not wearing your clothes. That jumper definitely belongs to me. I remember buying it."

"Mine now." Kate hums, her eyes drifting closed as Castle's mouth closes around her hip.

"You are… a no good… dirty, rotten… jumper stealing… thief." He says, his mouth and fingers no-where near where she wants them. "I should press charges."

"You should definitely press something. And preferably some time soon."

Castle laughs, rises up over her, a knee in between her legs, almost pressing right where she needs it, and she could just shuffle down a bit "But Kate… you've got a murder investigation. Don't tell me that NYPD Detective Kate Beckett would rather have sex with an admittedly ruggedly handsome man than go bring a killer to justice." He looks down at her, head tilted to the side.

"Not sex. No time for sex. Just… mouth. Want…"

"You want my mouth?"

"Please."

He kisses her, hard and Kate arches up, groaning into his mouth. "Sorry. You've got a job to do."

She hates him. She really, really hates him because he's a bastard. He's a smug egotistical bastard and she hates him. He's acting all gleeful, and throwing her stupid and ridiculous looks and she hates him for it because he knows. He knows and she has to sit at her desk for at least another two hours before she even has a hope in hell of getting him out of here. And he has to act all…

"You really want to hit me right now, don't you?"

She ignores his question, stabs at the keys on her computer and she's not imagining his face on them.

"You know why I do it, don't you?"

"Because you're an ass. And you get off on being a torturer and a tease."

"Which is not necessarily a bad thing."

"Speak for yourself." She huffed, sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs in a way that made that smug grin return with double intensity. Ass.

"I get to make it up to you. I get to make it up to you, in so many ways, and you get very feisty when you're frustrated and that is mutually pleasurable to both parties-"

"Can we not talk about this in the precinct?"

His grin widens, and Kate closes her eyes. "Well you seemed very interested in talking in that store cupboard a couple of weeks ago."

"I don't remember doing much talking."

He carries on, ignoring the rolling of her eyes. "And there was the time after that undercover in that club, and Gates wasn't around and Ryan and Esposito had gone home and you forcibly dragged me into the bathroom and that was fun. Ooh, or that time where we went a whole three days without seeing each other because we were both ridiculously busy and you had a couple of days off, and you were that annoyed and frustrated you didn't let me out of that bedroom for about fifty-ish hours. I make you frustrated, because then it's lots and lots of fun. For both of us."

"Are you getting yourself off on my hip?"

There's a brief moment of silence, and he waits for Kate to deny it, to shift away and pull the covers up over her head and pretend she has no idea. But he's sure – she's practically pressing herself against his hipbone jerking her pelvis in odd movements. There is no reason for her to be doing that. Other than the fact she's trying to get herself off. Against his hip.

"I wasn't finished," she bites into her pillow, "and you were asleep."

"I was not asleep." He tries to move, to roll them over. "And I can help."

"You dare move and I'm going to shoot you." Kate bites back, pressing a hand against his shoulder and keeping him pinned.

He stays, but he presses a hand against her lower back, pushing her harder against him until she sags against him, her forehead hot and sweaty against the curve of his neck. He pulls the blankets up over them, wriggles his hips to get comfy.

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You were asleep." She mumbles against his shoulder, "You're cute when you're asleep."