Disclaimer: The only part of Castle that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

In the old movie theater on Houston Street four people simultaneously have devout thoughts. There's Ryan ("holy Mother of God"), his girlfriend, Jenny ("holy cow"), and Castle and Beckett, who are—as they often are, but now more than ever—sharing a brain ("holy shit").

It's the effervescent Jenny who speaks first, after stepping aside so that other moviegoers can get out into the aisle. "So, did you enjoy the movie?"

"Great, it was great. It's one of my favorites and Ka—Beckett, Beckett." Castle is already stumbling over his words. "She happened to mention that she'd only ever seen it on television and heard that it was playing here so she wanted to get the whole, uh, experience." He's finding it hard to think, except to think that they should have stayed the hell in bed, just the way he'd wanted.

At his side, the usually unflappable detective is very flapped. And red-faced. Oh, what the fuck, she says silently, there's no way they can talk themselves out of this. Besides, it's Ryan and Jenny and they're adorable. "I did, I did get the whole experience. Thanks to Castle." She grabs his hand, laces her fingers through his, and holds tight. "I especially loved the last part," she adds, and clears her throat. "As you saw."

Ryan, his blue eyes almost impossibly wide, is the only one who has neither moved nor spoken. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he finally comes out with, "You two, you're?" He seems incapable of finishing the sentence.

"Dating?" Jenny fills in.

"It's our first date," Beckett says. And holy shit—again—that's the truth: she and Castle are on a date. An honest-to-God date, and their first ever.

Ryan is still flummoxed. "Aren't you camping, Castle?"

"Camping?" asks Castle, his partner in flummoxation.

What's the matter with these two guys? Beckett leaps in again. "He texted me last night, said he'd come home two days early. Didn't you, Castle?"

"Er."

"When the weather turned so terrible, Gina cut short the writers' retreat and they all left." If he doesn't pick up the narrative thread, she'll kill him.

"Yeah, right, she did."

Beckett squeezes his hand, hard. On the verge of bone-crushing, might-require-surgery hard.

"And then this morning I called and said that I'd really missed you guys this week at the precinct and we got talking and met for lunch and said a few things that needed saying and ta da! Here we are." He smiles as if he's just both discovered and explained cold fusion. "On a date!"

A little lame, but it'll do, Becket thinks. "Would you guys like to get some coffee?"

"Coffee?"

"Yes, Ryan, the stuff we drink all day at work, only this would be a nicer place. There are some nice places around here, aren't there, Castle?" She raises an eyebrow at him and delivers another vise-like squeeze to his hand.

"It's Saturday night."

"So?"

"And it's raining."

"Right, Castle, all the more reason to go somewhere close by, don't you think?" Squeeeeeeze.

"Every place will be packed."

"I've got an idea," she says, breaking out her very best smile. "Can we go to your place?" She turns to Jenny. "Castle's loft isn't far from here and he always claims he has more snacks on hand than Dean and Deluca, which is a ludicrously overpriced store near him."

"Store?" He's truly shocked. "It's an emporium, Beckett."

"Fine. Emporium. I went in there to buy a box of sugar cubes last year to take to Castle's poker game—you were there, Ryan, remember?—and it cost eight bucks or something."

Castle gapes. "They were not ordinary sugar cubes, Beckett. They were in the shapes of clubs, diamonds, hearts, and spades."

"That's cute," Jenny says.

"For eight dollars, it should be more than cute. But what do you say, Castle? Can we go? I bet Jenny would love to see your place."

"Especially it that's where you wrote page one oh five," Jenny agrees, and giggles.

Oh, if you only knew, Castle thinks. Page 105 pales next to what's gone on in the loft over the last few days. For whatever reason, Kate wants them to go there, then they'll go. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, says excuse me to the others, and has a brief conversation. "Car will be here in five minutes," he says, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "Too far to walk in this rain. That okay with you, Ryan?"

"Sure. Great. Sounds great. Thanks."

"Gosh, Kate," Jenny says, putting her hand on Beckett's arm. "I feel like we're crashing your date."

"Not at all. I mean, we're on a date, but it's not like we don't know each other after two years of working together."

A quarter of an hour later they've stepped off the elevator and are walking down the hall to the loft when Castle has a searing memory of what had gone on in his kitchen this afternoon. Oh, God, the evidence left behind. As he unlocks the door with a slightly trembling hand he says, "Excuse me for going in ahead of you, but I need to get to the lights or we'll all be tripping over things in the dark." He goes to the panel of switches and heads straight for the crime scene, a few feet away. No crime was committed there—if it had been a crime he'd have willingly gone to jail just to have had the opportunity to do what they'd done—but it's definitely a scene. Yeeesh, they're here, right where she'd left them, on the counter. Okay, technically he'd left them, since he's the one who took them off her. He grabs the tiny, lacy, hot pink panties, shoves them into his pocket, gets the coffee beans from the fridge, and goes back to his guests. "Coffee okay with everyone? Or would you like something stronger? I have everything."

"Coffee's good for me, Rick," Jenny says, unabashedly gaping at her surroundings.

"Me, too," Ryan says.

"Same here. Jenny, would you like to freshen up? I could show you the powder room. I stayed here last winter after my apartment was bombed, so I still remember where most things are."

"Thanks, Kate."

Castle is busy with coffee and taking out an array of things to eat, and the moment Jenny closes the door Kate dashes to the sofa. "Ryan," she whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Shhh."

He lowers his voice. "Oh. Sorry."

"Please don't rat us out."

"I would never."

"I mean it. Not even to Espo. Especially to Espo. Please, Kevin?"

"It must be serious if you're calling me Kevin."

She blushes, and looks aside. "Yeah, it is."

"Okay. My lips are sealed. Jenny's too."

"Thank you. Thank you."

Perfect timing, because here comes Ryan's girlfriend. "Kev wasn't kidding. The loft is amazing."

"Yeah, it was kind of tough to move to my apartment after living in this palace for a week." She's sitting next to Ryan, and shoots him a look that she hopes he'll understand. "I'm going to see if Castle needs help," she says as she pushes herself off the sofa.

In the kitchen she sees a typical Castleian idea of a snack: cookies (five kinds), chips (three), nuts (four), pretzels, a bowl of grapes, a staggering array of cheeses, and an entire baguette, sliced and dropped into a basket. "I don't know if this is enough," she says.

"Really? Wait, I must have something else." He whips around to a cabinet and starts rummaging around on the top shelf. "Yes!" He pulls out three bags. "See? New kinds of gourmet popcorn. I knew they must be here."

"I was kidding, Castle."

"You were?" He's surprised. "Never kid about snacks, Beckett."

"Lesson learned," she says, and pats him on the butt. "Listen," she lowers her voice. "I asked Ryan not to tell anyone about us and he promised he won't. Jenny either."

"Ah, okay. Gotcha. Your plan. Good."

The two couples have a fun and chatty evening. When Jenny asks for the fifty-cent tour, Castle happily obliges, but not before closing the door to the master bedroom. "I can let you see my office, but I didn't make the bed today and I think I started sorting laundry that was in the hamper, so that's off limits this time. Everything else is open for you to survey."

Beckett silently thanks him. He's really found his footing in the last couple of hours, and obviously recalls exactly—as well he should— how they'd left his bedroom. She doesn't mind that Ryan knows about them, but she wants what he knows to go only so far, and it definitely doesn't include that.

It's almost midnight when Castle sends their friends home in a town car—"I'm not taking no for an answer, you'll never find a cab, and you'll drown before you get to the subway"—and he and Kate clean up. "Would you like some wine?"

"God, yes. After what happened? I'm surprised I don't need something stronger. But it's okay. Ryan is a man of his word." She leans tiredly against the counter. "You know what's incredible?"

"I'd say you, because I'm feeling sappy, but what's incredible?"

"That in a city of eight million people I ran into Gina a week ago, and tonight we ran into Ryan and Jenny. Some coincidence, isn't it? Coincidences, plural."

"Happy ones, ultimately."

"True. It's just, I'd never believe it if it hadn't happened to me."

"You sure you don't want the hard stuff, then?"

"If I have the hard stuff I'll conk out before I have my way with you."

"Wine it is, then. What way did you have in mind?"

"I'm going to surprise you."

Later, he's breathing hard and sweating, sprawled in the middle of the bed. "That was one hell of a surprise, Kate. You remember how you said you didn't want to know how I know what I know sexually? That goes for me, too. I'm actually praying that I'm the only man who's ever done that with you, whatever it is."

"Arc de Triomphe."

"That's what it is?"

"Yeah, because of my, uh, triumphal arch backwards onto your legs when we're—" she runs her foot up his calf. "And you are."

"I am what?"

"The only man. I read about it. I wanted to see if I could do it, imagined what it would be like with you."

"You read about it? Come here." He hooks his arm around her and pulls her over on top of him. "When?"

"A couple of weeks ago. In my tub. I was so down in the dumps about you, I was doing some heavy-duty fantasizing."

"I'd say I'm sorry," he says, pushing her hair away from her face, "but I'd be lying. I mean, I feel terrible that you were down in the dumps, but if that's what came out of it, ooh la la." He pulls her down for a deep kiss. "You know where we should go?"

"To sleep?"

"To Paris. Get more inspiration from their monuments."

"Monuments, huh? Like the Louvre? Or, I know, the Eiffel Tower."

"That could be very inspiring."

"Very phallic, anyway."

She lies flat on his chest, her head turned sideways so her face is directly over his heart. She loves the pulse against her cheekbone. He's running his hand lightly up and down her spine, and she's running hers around his ear. Eventually his hand falters and stops, and she knows that he's asleep, even though she's tickling his ear. She moves her head a little so that she can watch him, and the longer she watches, the louder a song is knocking at a door in her head. Why is that? Is it love? Ouch. Yes. But. It's weird, but it also delights her. It's never happened to her before. She mentally opens the door and invited the song to come in.

I see the whole world in your eyes,
It's like I've known you all my life,
We just feel so right.
So I pour my heart into your hands.
It's like you really understand
You love the way I am.

She feels herself falling asleep too, so she moves gently off his chest and snuggles against him.

Everything's all right,
'Cause it feels like I've opened my eyes again,
And the colors are golden and bright again.
There's a song in my heart, I feel like I belong.
It's a better place since you came along.

She's barely awake, and the music in her head is winding down. She wonders if Castle ever thinks of songs when he looks at her. She has to ask him. She'll ask him in the morning.

TBC

A/N Thank you very much, readers. Special thanks to reviewer I'm Widget, who recommended the song in this chapter, Rachel Platten's "Better Place." It's a new one, but what can I say? Beckett must have an in with Castle's time-machine guy, too.