DISCLAIMER: i own nothing and no one but i do have a question...how many times is too many times to watch two 30second promos for a tv show? eeep!


The night had dragged, it had been horrendously slow and painful, but the day was a million times worse. The hours until he saw her again ticked by torturously unhurried, taking their time to meander past until he was nearly out of his mind with anxious worry and nervous energy.

The fact he hadn't slept at all did nothing to help alleviate his angst.

He eventually gave up all pretence of working and waiting and, an hour earlier than he had intended, he made his way to her club, in sheer desperation to see her, hear her voice and hold her close.

Screw the consequences, he wanted to be with her now!

...

The bouncer eyed him with a mixture of apprehension and pity as he stepped through the door. Shaking his head sadly as he muttered "You're both crazy, I hope its worth it."

He stopped dead, clutching tight at the mans muscular arm his words giving him sudden flaring hope, she must be here. She must have left word that he was coming.

"It is, she is." He said with conviction as he let out a pathetically jubilant sounding laugh, the large man shaking his hand in time with his head, but there was a soft (if it was possible to call anything about this man soft) smile playing on his lips.

"Someone's waiting at the bar to take you through the back," he said, "be quick about it, Mack will be here in less than hour, he has eyes everywhere."

He walked slowly, with a grateful nod, away from the bouncer heading towards the bar area. Every step was agony as he fought to keep a steady speed and not draw attention to himself.

He walked when he wanted to skip and race, to run as fast as possible to see her again.

He slowed every impulse until he drew level with the bar, his eyes darting madly, taking in the faces, looking for one he might recognise.

The stool ahead of him swivelled, the woman revealing herself with a showman's flourish, her white dress flaring around her as she tipped her head and smiled at him.

She was dark and exotic, her black hair twisted to one side and threaded through with white and pink flowers.

He recognised her instantly.

She was the headline act of The Blue Butterfly, notorious flirt, hard as nails and a force to be reckoned with.

She was also reportedly the closest friend of the owner, his mystery woman whose name still eluded him, and it made perfect sense that she would be the one waiting to meet him.

He made his way closer to her, as she beckoned with a small inclined tilt of her head, until he stood just to the side of her chair.

She hopped down from the stool, his eyes dropping to follow her and he realised she was tiny, her heeled feet lifted her to his shoulder height, but her personality, the character and poise that bubbled from her lifted her higher still.

She stepped in front of him then, blocking his path, her face bright and her smile wide, a clear deception for those around them, as she looked up at him and said in a dark dangerous voice. "You hurt her, I'll kill you."

He felt his mouth fall open in surprise, looking at her in shock until he laughed, he knew he shouldn't but the menacing voice from such a tiny woman, her deadly threat coupled with everything else that they were already facing, struck him as funny.

She took another step forwards, lifting her hand to reach up and grab hold of his collar, a tight grip that had him nearly choking as she pulled him down until they were eye to eye, almost yanking him off his feet.

"Lover boy, do I look like I am joking to you?"

"No Ma'am!" He shook his head in complete seriousness, his eyes wide and childlike as the woman before him smiled, a satisfied evil smile, before releasing his clothes and pushing backwards.

She ran her hands along his shoulders, laughing loudly for anyone who might be watching, before smoothing out the wrinkles she had put in his suit. She pressed slightly harder than was absolutely necessary for emphasis before she stepped backwards fully.

"Keep up. Don't make me smack you."

She brushed past him, and his heart started beating erratically again, she was so near, and any minute he would see her again.

He followed the singer in front of him, another woman whose name he didn't know, through a door just off to the side of the bar, they walked corridors that went on for miles and miles, or less dramatically and truthfully endless seconds because he knew he was getting closer.

It was like there was a magnetised pull in his chest that dragged him along, he wanted the other woman to run because they weren't going fast enough, he needed to see her.

He rounded the corner and realised they were standing at the back of the stage.

He made to speak but the tiny, terrifying woman stepped close, narrowing her eyes and smacking him firmly on the chest before she spoke "Wait here…do not move!"

He nodded as she turned on her heel and walked off out of sight.

He stood alone again, his heart still racing as he waited, impatience forgotten, replaced with eager longing and anticipation. He knew she was here, knew she was safe, now he just needed to calm the raging pulse within him by seeing her face to face.

The lights dimmed above him suddenly and everything went black. He spun on the spot expecting danger, expecting the worse before brilliant white lights shone through the black curtain that separated him from the front of the stage.

He covered his eyes as the harsh light took him by surprise and his ears were assailed with the whoops and cheers of a happy audience.

The silhouette of a woman was revealed across the dark expanse of jet black curtain, her hand on her hip as she spoke to the crowd, asked for quiet and when she didn't immediately receive it, she barked at them.

There was roaring laughter from the crowd, they knew her act of keeping them in line, playing along and loving every minute.

He smiled as he listened to her, watching her through the blacked out mesh of material. She played them all effortlessly, tease mixed with power and command, and he had no doubt whatsoever that she would hurt him if she felt she had to.

She spoke to someone in the band, there was the loud blast of a trumpet and the comically timed 'Pahrump' of a trombone, more laughter echoed around him before the music started to play and the audience began to quieten down.

He saw the silhouetted figure move and stand at the edge of a large black mass he assumed was the piano. Her soft and tender voice filled the room as she started to sing.

I'll be loving you,

Always,

He stood with his head tilted letting the soft jazz melody of the music wash over him.

"Hey blue eyes."

With a love that's true,

Always.

Her voice was soft and tender as it floated across the narrow darkened space, and the minute he heard her he spun towards it.

Moving without even being conscious of making the decision he rushed at her, with no thought, just utter gut wrenching relief that she was alive and standing before him.

He watched her smile, a light laugh echo from her lips as he swooped in and without pausing he picked her up and spun her on the spot, his arms tight around her waist as he lifted her off her feet forcing her to fling her arms around his neck as she continued to laugh.

He dropped her back down to the floor, fisting his hand in her hair as he brought her face to his. He needed to look at her, take her in, drink in every ounce of her existence, so he held tight to her dress and let his fingers play in her hair, as he absorbed absolutely everything he could about her as if doing so would erase the night of pain and worry.

He felt his heart settle to a more naturally erratic rhythm, the one she caused by being close to him, and he watched as her laughter fell away, her smile softened, became tender and her hand slid up to skim his jaw.

"Miss me?" She whispered, her fingers moving across the stubble that evidenced the night of torment he had suffered, her thumb sliding higher to run along the darkened shadow under his eye "Honey?" her tone gentled by the comfort she laced through it.

His eyes closed under her caress, the warmth of her hand penetrating into his skin and he finally felt the angst and the worry leech away, soothed by the continued stroke of her thumb.

"Never again." He whispered quietly, his eyes opening to look at her again.

He pulled her closer as she stared back in confusion, his voice fierce as he closed in on her, his hot breath gusting over her lips as he spoke "I'm never leaving your side, never again."

Her other hand joined the first to wrap around his face as she blinked slowly, a knowing smile spread across her bright red lips as they drew closer.

An aching look of longing, of need, consumed them both, leaning in, noses brushing, lips hovering over each other, heaving panting breaths passing between the two, their bodies fitting together as they moved in for their cloak-and-dagger kiss. Sighing, their lips parted and they closed the distance…


They had moved closer together in the break room, after he had gathered the journal from her desk along with his own coffee and now he sat to the left of the head of the table, next to her.

He hadn't gone into graphic sexual details of an illicit tryst as he had threatened he would, he had instead created an elaborate love story and picked her up and set her down in the middle of it.

She didn't know if he was aware that some of the dialogue was theirs, that some of the resonating feelings and fraught arguments behind things that made no sense belonged solely in the box labelled 'the deluded logic of Katherine Beckett'.

She suspected he did know, because he never once sought to blame the woman for walking away, when even she, knowing how closely the story applied to herself, was yelling inside her own head, 'turn around you stupid woman and kiss him.'

He must be aware on some level because even his vividly woven 40's fantasy alter ego bowed out with class and dignity to the wants and needs of his lady love.

She shook her head at those descriptions, those words as they danced around her head, his words leading her astray yet again, she had to focus out of nonsensical musings and back on him.

Back to Castles story.

They were face to face as he read the notes, scanning the pages as he carried on telling her the story. He was smiling as he read thoroughly engrossed even as he spoke.

He must be reading the words, picturing the story and then telling it to her, all within seconds of his mind absorbing the information.

He had a great mind, she knew that, but seeing it in action…it was captivating.

She leant forwards in the way she had earlier, lost in the movements of his lips and the sound of his voice as he continued the story, her chin resting once again in her hand.

Until suddenly he went silent.

She had no idea what he had been thinking, but he was clearly enjoying it. His eyes suddenly darting up to her face, but seeing something else entirely.

He sat in silence, gazing at her as if he could see into her soul, her mind, everything laid bare before him as he stared deeply at her, into her.

It was starting to become a little creepy and not just Castle creepy, really creepy.

It was like he was in a coma or a trance, like he had lost the reality of the here and now.

Then just as suddenly, when she was on the verge of calling his name, or flicking him right between the eyes, he snapped out of it. He came back, eager again as he described to her what he could envisage for the them he had been playing with in his mind.

"He would pull her close," Castle said quietly, his hand reaching of its own accord to brush the loose strands of hair behind her ear as he spoke.

She felt herself jump, a sharp jolt, as his hand skimmed her face out of nowhere. She opened her mouth to talk, to ask him what he was doing, but she couldn't find the words, every single one of them died on her tongue.

So she sat in silence with her mouth open, just a fraction, as his hand tenderly played with her hair.

His fingertips felt hot against her skin, or her skin felt hot and he felt hotter, it didn't matter, the point was, he was touching her and everything suddenly felt heated.

His words and his actions perfectly in sync with his story, he began to act out what he could see.

"He would place his hand gently on her face," he lifted his hand and cupped her cheek, his fingers drawing along the narrow line of her cheekbone, "glide his fingers across the soft, warm skin of her cheeks," skirting the dark marks below her eyes as he had wanted to earlier. It came as a pleasant surprise when she didn't immediately pull away "pin her against the hard desk."

He made to move towards her.

"Stage." she corrected him, the word tumbling free before she had a chance to stop it, biting her stupid tongue as she brought him out of his spell and he jumped back. He yanked his hand away from her face like his fingers had been scalded.

"What?"

"Stage, he would pin her against the stage," she said giving him a resigned smile, trying to keep her voice from betraying any underlying disappointment "you said desk but…" she licked her lips and swallowed thickly as she continued "why would there be a desk backstage?"

He sat staring, he wasn't positive but he thought he saw a look of regret wash across her face when he had moved away.

He needed to test the theory and pull her back in.

He rapped his knuckles gently against the break room table, watching as her eyes followed his fingers before darting up to his face, then slowly, slowly, he flicked his eyes towards her desk, drawing her attention to it.

He watched the realisation take root, could see the exact moment she saw what he had seen, her mind now picturing the two of them sprawled across her desk and he had to fight back the laugh that wanted to escape as once again her cheeks flushed bright red.

This was shaping up to be an awesome day.

"Maybe it's a prop?" He said smoothly catching her eye and smirking, but giving her an out none the less.

"Maybe?" She agreed leaning in closer to him "buuuut…" she dragged the word out as she rested on his leg leaning over him again and tapping on the dusty page of the journal, "that kiss wouldn't work anyway."

"Kiss? He questioned looking down, following the sound of her tapping finger against the book. There was a kiss written in the journal one with the barest minimum of details, literally just the word 'kiss', clearly the writer of this journal was a man of few words. So he had made it up, the detail, the tenderness and feeling, too busy thinking about his delightful Detective.

It wasn't the word 'KISS' or the imagery conjured, however, that had stunned him into silence, it was the name of the song written next to it. The clear black 'ALWAYS' shining out from the past as he read the story.

He knew his future lay with her a long time before he had picked up this journal, but who was he to argue with signs from the universe that traversed the fields of time and space.

He was doing that dreamy, far off lost in thought thing with his eyes again and she lifted her hand quickly and tapped him on the head "Yeah the one you were imagining in here." She sat back and laughed letting him know she was on to him "It doesn't make sense."

"How do you know?" He asked staring at her "I never even got to describe it."

She shrugged "pressed into a stage," she smirked "or desk doesn't sound very comfortable."

He stared at her open mouthed, she couldn't be serious "I don't know who you've been kissing Beckett but…err…clearly you've been missing out." He leant forwards in his chair again, moving closer "Sometimes it's not about comfort, it's about passion."

She rolled her eyes "Passion or not, it still doesn't sound comfortable or romantic."

"I could demonstrate for you, if you doubt my skill." He twisted around again in the chair, gently pulling the diary from her hands and laying it on the table.

"Your skill?"

"Yeah," he said holding out his hand "Dick me!"

Her head snapped up as she glared "Excuse me?"

He laughed loudly, her face contorting in shock as he did which only made him laugh harder "Private Investigator me, from the story, 'Joe the Dick' me. You doubt his…my….our…whatever…there is skill doubting going on here." He pointed at her.

She rolled her eyes, muttering 'dick me' under her breath, rubbing her hand across her forehead in frustration.

The man was insane, he really was, and he genuinely needed to be committed somewhere, but she nodded in agreement, there was indeed skill doubting going on as he so eloquently put it.

Not so much his skill when it came to kissing her. No definitely not that, she knew within seconds of their lips colliding he would have her moaning and arching against him, he would pull sounds of desire from her and she would have to fight to control where her hands roamed.

No, the kiss was most definitely not the issue. The doubt in her mind came from the location, the setting, the scene itself.

"Let me show you?" He asked standing up.

"What?" She jumped, he couldn't be serious.

"Yeah let him show you!" Ryan chimed in his voice joining the conversation from no where.

She spun in her chair and glared, her mouth falling open before she spoke "Where the hell did you come from?"

She took in the two Detectives leaning in the doorway, staring straight at Esposito who raised his eyebrows and smiled at her innocently, before he glared at Ryan and said sarcastically "Smooth."

Esposito then turned back to the other two "I agree with Beckett."

She smiled at him, she had to love him, he always had her back even when…

"But you gotta act it out because it makes no sense." He grinned at her then, giving up all pretence of innocence.

Oh he would pay for that.

"You were listening?" she asked, narrowing her eyes, launching into Beckett death stare mode.

Both men nodded looking unabashed and smiling widely.

"For how long?" she questioned, her eyes warming up nicely the longer they grinned at her, nearly ready to burn a hole right through the centre of both men.

Esposito stared her down, coughed the word 'Years' as Ryan spoke over him, trying to cover for his partner, saying "Long enough."

Her death stare fell away in surprise and she heard Castle cough splutter a laugh behind her. She resisted the urge to turn on him, barely, instead focusing on the men in front of her.

"I need to see it." Esposito said still smiling at her as she bit her tongue, sometimes he was worse than Lanie. That little, not so well hidden away, shipper pushing them together.

"Yeah act it out." Ryan said his voice dreamy, eager and full of glee. "Make the story come alive."

All three stopped dead and turned to stare at him.

"What? I'm a romantic, deal with it."

Castle laughed again, nodding, and turned back to her where she sat, slightly red faced, at the table. He extended his hand, teasing her.

"Care to help me prove a point Detective? I think you've been dared."

She didn't need to look back at the boys to know she would find them nodding, didn't need to hear the words to register the challenge.

She stood slowly before she snagged his hand.

"Whatever you say DICK!"


the song is 'always' by frank sinatra (at least the version i listened to was) and i took it as i sign from the universe that i use this 'specific' song when three seperate people told me to go listen to it within the space of 5 minutes