7th February

She calls that morning not long after his mother and Alexis have headed out for the day, to school and a meeting he never got the location of. When he sees her caller-ID no witty greeting springs to mind immediately, quite unusual. But given the fact his mind is being bombarded, once again, with images of her curled up in her bed, ready do nothing more than sleep, makes normal thought impossible. So impossible in fact he almost lets the cell ring out, until he's jolted from his wandering mind by the fourth vibration, by the fact it is teetering very close to the voicemail threshold.

"Hey," is all he could manage. He knows his smile is probably as evident to her as it is to himself.

She pauses before she says anything in response. But when she drops her own "hey," not too soft and not the least bit business-like, he has to swallow, bite his own tongue. He's pretty sure she's smiling too. But he's snapped out of it, tuned in suddenly to the reason for her call.

"We got a body?" he asks, still a little too excited at the prospect. But now the excitement is as much about seeing her as it is seeing what grotesque and morbid things the people of New York City have done to one another.

"Yeah," she says immediately, like she's defending herself, making sure he knows she does have a reason to call. But she doesn't always need a reason. More often now he calls her for no reason, generally while she's at work, bugging her when he knows she's there and no case has dropped. It does remind him of the bank hold-up, but he forges on, it's just more reason to call. Check she's okay, happy to find out she's as bored by her paperwork as he is by the cursor blinking silently on his screen, taunting him. Inspiration always strikes though, triggered by something she says or does. It doesn't matter. But when she calls back later with a case, he doesn't even let her say anything, just tells her he'll be downstairs in ten minutes, maybe five if she's already in the car. She does that now, already on her way when she dials. Once she was even already out the front, out to lunch had been her excuse. He'd known she'd probably been driving mindlessly, filling time, when dispatch called and had been most of the way to his loft already.

He hears her swallow through the phone, probably to give herself a moment, bide herself some time. He doesn't mind, he'd needed the second to get lost in his own thoughts, memories of the many times they've had this conversation and all its variations, its evolution. "I think you'll like this one. It's quite… unusual." She doesn't offer anything else and he doesn't mind. A little more mystery surrounding their day can't do any harm. He'll let her be the one shrouding their morning with mystery. He doesn't plan to give her today's gift until much later in the day. It's still slipped into his pocket though, waiting for its moment.

She sets the phone back in its cradle, the hard plastic giving an audible thud even despite her lack of force. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the scene she's about to face. Ryan and Esposito, thankfully, went ahead while she called Castle, electing not to use her cell. It isn't because she needs a minute to herself before the scene, a second to pull a veil over her emotions so she can focus on killers not victims. While that does get to her, that particular mask goes on in the car, steeled every mile that she'll travel, reinforced by every cop she spies on her way across the scene as she makes her way to the body. It's that she needs to wipe the stupid smirk off her face and focus, throw a veil over a different set of emotions. Their victim needs her to focus. If his light tone is anything to go by, he is as unfocused as she is. She'll have to ground herself before she sees him, otherwise she'll end up tilted off centre for the rest of the day.

When he comes back with yet another cup of coffee to find her deep in conversation on the phone, pulling records or tracking a suspect he isn't sure, doesn't matter. This case has so many twists and turns he's almost given up keeping track of who exactly Beckett, Esposito and Ryan are looking into at a particular moment in time. The other two are both on the phone, he'd received a nod of thanks as he set their coffees in front of them a minute before, then returned to the break room for theirs.

She stops writing to smile at him, only very briefly flicking her eyes up to meet his own.

"Yeah," she says into the phone, her eyes darting back to the note pad. She's coloured in the corner whilst on hold, or perhaps while the person on the other end got to the point. It doesn't matter. He's never noticed before. And he always notices, especially when it comes to her.

He settles back into his seat, mindful of her gift in his coat pocket, dangling somewhere behind him. Every time he moves he can hear it, sometimes he swears she's heard it too when she looks across at him, he holds his breath until she speaks after extremely long pauses, milliseconds that stretch on for minutes. She hasn't noticed.

Why would she notice a crinkle of plastic in his pocket?

She strides out of the interrogation room, decidedly leaving their suspect to consider his options – tell her the truth, confess to everything he's done and earn himself a deal by dobbing in his partner, his co-conspirator, or he could face the full force of the accusations, they had enough evidence to pin him down as the ringleader but he didn't seem like the type.

"I give him half an hour before that lawyer's calling us back, ready to roll," Esposito offers as they fall into step beside her, headed back across to their desks.

"Yeah we'll see." She's not entirely convinced, he could very well be the ringleader about to take the offer and earn himself a lesser sentence, handing his sidekick a possible life sentence, who knew. At this stage they just needed the other name, then the logistics of who was who and what exactly each had done, which part they had played, would all, hopefully, come to light.

The Castle is beside them all. "Pizza? Chinese? Indian? Thai?" He's offering dinner suggestions. Is it really that late already? She knew they'd been at this for hours, how could she not? But she figured it was only late afternoon not early evening.

It's an onslaught of options and she doesn't care. She just shrugs and forges ahead to her desk, leaving them to decide. She has work to do, whatever the choice she'll eat something. Something will be ordered with her in mind.

She sees Castle nod to the others and part with them as they slide into their own desk chairs, already getting back to work. She's already started making notes about the interrogation, what they learnt and where it could take them, what she'll have to remember so when she goes to court and has to answer to a prosecutor and a defence attorney she has all the answers lined up, neat rows, no gaps. She won't be the reason these guys walk.

When her desk phone rings a short time later, she's curt, they've disrupted quite a crucial moment. Her attention isn't on the caller.

"Beckett."

"There is a delivery down here for Mr-"

"He's on his way," she responds. "Thanks." She hangs up the phone and Castle has already stood, headed downstairs to grab the pizza having taken.

Ryan slides back and drops his and Esposito's parts of the bill on her desk, giving her a knowing look. She rolls her eyes and drops her own share, matching the others.

He'll refuse it, vehemently, she knows that. But they'll try.

She knows when he's stepped off the elevator. Esposito and Ryan have both turned to face her, seeking permission to eat right away, like small children asking their parents if they can have a lolly.

She rolls her eyes at them, but continues to work for a second. She blindly gathers the wad of notes in her fist as she finishes her sentence, while all three men hurry into the break room, basically jostling for first position like children rushing to lunch.

She supposes they are.

She arches her back when she stands, flicks her eyes to the break room as she does then shows the wad of bills into his coat pocket. It's the only way she's ever found him to accept money from them. He won't take it from her in person, no matter how insistent she is, no matter what threat she makes.

He's gone to get another coffee for her, they still haven't heard back from their suspect and his lawyer, still seemingly in intense discussion in the interrogation room. Esposito had gone and knocked on the door, asking if they wanted a drink or anything, forcing them to realise they were keeping an eye on them, waiting on them. To reinforce the fact the team were running this deal not he and his lawyer. Who knew what they were discussing but it was beginning to draw out. The suspect, by the looks of things, had finished talking and his lawyer was speaking, long drawn out speeches emphasised with his hand and a dangling pen, previously poised taking notes at each facet of the deal she offered. This guy was good.

She was better. Her whole team was better.

She watched as Esposito returned, sitting heavily in his chair, shaking his head. They still weren't close to finished. This lawyer was trying to make them sweat, earning his surely ridiculous hourly rate as he did so.

She shrugged as she returned to her work, a silent urge for him to do the same.

"Still nothing?" Castle asks as he sits down, setting her coffee on the desk beside her.

She shakes her head, leans back in her chair, wrapping both hands around the mug, drawing in its heat for a second, enjoying the scald it still gives her tongue when she takes a large gulp.

"What?" she asks him as she sets the mug on the desk again as she realises he's regarding her cautiously, like he wants to say something.

"I forgot something," he says, cringing slightly, standing and flicking his head like he's beckoning to follow him to the break room.

What? "Castle, its-" she starts. But stops, he's already walking away. He hasn't forgotten anything. He wouldn't forget anything. He's known how to make her coffee for as long as she can remember, basically from day one. Well the first day he wasn't a suspect or taking joy in annoying the crap out of her. More like the first day he prodded Montgomery into letting him into the department.

He's up to something, barely concealing it today. She doesn't mind, it gets it out of the way.

She realises just as he slides through the door that she's been left behind. She regards Ryan and Esposito quickly, glancing at the interrogation room for a second before she gathers her cup and follows him. The case can wait for one minute. It's not like she's leaving the building. It won't fall down completely if it doesn't have her full attention. The guys are more than capable of continuing.

She's ignoring her curiosity about why today is different, why he's bothering to do this face-to-face. She wants to question him as she slips into the room, but her eyes can't stop studying his stance long enough to let her mouth speak. Leaning against the counter, much more relaxed than she feels, a slight hunch is his shoulders suggesting maybe he's forcing an act. Then she sees him flick his eyes to the open door behind her.

Curious, she closes it.

Now that won't look at all suspicious. As if everyone in this precinct needs more reason, more ammunition, more evidence to acknowledge the fact something is happening between them. Granted the guys out in the bullpen have been niggling at that issue for years. The jibes which would surely follow this trail of gifts would put anything from the past to shame.

If she doesn't move out of the doorway someone's going to get very suspicious. It is a gamble as it is that no one will follow them in seeking a coffee or the microwave. If she just comes over he can offer the small item with the crinkling plastic to her and leave her with it, give her a second to comprehend. This hadn't been how he planned to give this particular gift, but he hasn't got any other option now.

Then she's at his side, leaning against the countertop eyeing him curiously, flicking her gaze to the fist she's noticed closed at his side.

"I didn't forget anything," he offers softly, watching as she nods, trying so hard to keep her face neutral but he sees the way her eyes flick to the corner, like they're about to roll and she's fighting the urge.

"I know," she shrugs, the corner of her mouth twitching as her feet suddenly become the most interesting thing in the room.

"The guys didn't want Chinese," he says softly. "So my plan kind-of went downhill." He opens his fist to reveal it to her, watches as she slowly flicks her eyes from her feet to him, carefully avoiding his hand like she's gauging his reaction to the gift, studying him for what it is before she herself finds out. It makes him want to crowd even closer to her, then she swallows. He can't help but urge her to look at it, nudging her elbow with the back of his hand as a silent coax.

He watches her sigh and slowly cast her eyes downwards, snail's pace but the smile that slides across her lips when she sees it makes the wait worth it, the risk of being present when she receives the gift.

Sure, he gave her the cupcake in person, but that seems like so long ago now. And that was different. Then it was just slightly atypical, just something other than a bear claw that he placed on her desk. Now it's a whole different ballgame, there is a pending date she has agreed to.

"You were going to give this to me in front of those two? Are you crazy?" she asks. Moving her eyes from the fortune cookie in his hand to his eyes, a little panicked but he can see the past her poker face. Right now in this moment, he can see the bubble of excitement she's fighting so hard to contain. He wishes she wouldn't bother. He wants to see her so open, have a hard edge cut away, show her raw. He's seen it more than once before, and he doesn't miss that right now, her tough exterior is slipping.

"They would've been distracted," he shrugs, pushing his thoughts about her aside as she flicks her eyes back to the hand he's still holding in front of her.

He watches her shift slightly, uncross her arms and adjust the way her weight is pressing against the counter, a small shuffle of her feet leading the slight movement. He doesn't move, let's her shift and then take it from his hand, clenching it in her fist with a rumple of plastic.

He swipes a finger over a closed knuckle, nods once and shifts his own weight, moving away, forcing himself to head back out into the bullpen and let her have a minute if she needs it.

"I'll let you, uh…" He fumbles over the words, decides its best just to stop talking. He doesn't know what he's leaving her to do. He knows with certainty she won't throw it away, she'd be too intrigued to just discard it without a second thought. But he's not sure that she'll open it and read it here.

"You don't have to leave, Castle," she says softly, a little defiant. She also doesn't bother to avoid rolling her eyes at him as she stays settled against the corner of the counter.

He doesn't bother to conceal his shock as he flicks his eyes up to hers. But she's not watching him, her focus has shifted to the wrapper in her hand, he can hear her opening it so he follows her line of sight, just catching her curious expression as she tears the wrapper and slips the hard biscuit free.

He has to force himself to breathe and blink as she snaps it in half. He notices she doesn't bother to brush the crumbs from her stomach, a stark contrast to the dark material.

He watches her slip the note into her fist then crush it so it isn't within her view, all with one swift hand movement.

"Castle?" she chuckles softly. It breaks him out of his reverie. She's happy and content. And offering him half the cookie while he stares at her clenched fist and the crumbs on her shirt.

He gives her half a smile in thanks and raises his eyebrows, hoping he has some kind of glint in his eye to show he's noticed and that he's feeling the same.

She just smiles and flicks her eyes to the closed door, before giving a soft huff as she expels the air from her lungs, seemingly removing her weight from the counter with that force.

He can't help but blink for a few seconds as she folds her arms across her chest, breaking the hold only to open the door.

"You just going to stand in here all night?" she asks, not bothering to look back over her shoulder as she lets the door fall open, recrossing her arms without pause and moving away. "Or are you coming with?" There is a challenge in her voice, a different hint of defiance.

She doesn't bother to turn to see if he's following her. She knows even if he isn't in this second, he won't be too far behind. Plus it gives her a chance to steal glances at this fortune. She certainly wasn't going to read it in front of him, but now, with her back to him, she feels safe enough.

The words are typed neatly across the small piece of paper, typical font for them, but she knows he has either had it made specifically or ordered from a selection. Once she reads the message, 'There are many new opportunities being presented to you each day' she isn't able to decide either way. It doesn't matter though, it's his handwritten scrawl that tells the whole story.

Take one, is all the cursive reads. But its message is more than blaringly obvious.

She bites her bottom lip to keep from reacting, forces the small piece of paper back into the tight ball of her fist before sticking it into the pocket of her pants. She can spend time later deducing exactly which opportunities she should be taking later. But right now, Esposito and Ryan are motioning her over to the interrogation room. Maybe it's both of them, she isn't going to check if Castle's following as she moves around a desk and down the clear path towards the room.

"We've got work to do," he mutters, touching the small of her back, startling her, catching her so off-guard that she had almost swung a fist back at him in response. But she's caught herself, realising it's just him and just settles for pressing the crumpled paper deeper into her skin. She might not be able to comprehend his advice right now, but she knows what it means. He wants her to be the one to take the step forward. Not because he doesn't want to do it himself, but it's a sign of respect, for her to know, when she's ready, he's waiting.

She'll have to wait until tomorrow to find which opportunity he'll present to her, or even the next day.

Who knows?

Anything is possible.

A/N: I know its a little later than normal but I got distracted by The Blue Butterfly, can you blame me?