A/N: Hey guys! I am sorry it's taken me so long to update this time. Not that I am very reliable when it comes to that anyway... I just wanted to apologize to having you waiting.

I am not happy at all with this chapter. It ended up going in the opposite direction to where I wanted it to go, and to be honest, I had no idea of how to deal with it at all. This is sort of a filler chapter and it's written from Beckett's POV for a change. I do have an idea of how to make this work and go back to where I had it intended to go from the beginning, but stories are very whimsical and one never knows what's going to happen next. Just bear with me ;)

Thanks a lot for all the support and the follows. You guys are super amazing. Sending lots of hugs your way.

Enjoy!

Chapter 3

"Who gave you that hickey?"

She looked at him completely confused, obviously oblivious to the fact that Dennis, the creepy guy, had marked her so thoroughly. "What?"

He crowded her then, pressing her back against the backrest of an armchair and lowering the hem of her neckline with his index finger, very slowly, uncovering the angry mark.

"Oh." was all that came out of her mouth for a good long minute. "That is nothing."

She removed herself from the narrow gap between Castle and the chair as graciously as she could, trying to ignore the furious shade of pink her skin had turned right after her partner had spotted and uncovered her little secret.

A hickey? She couldn't believe it. It was as if she was fifteen all over again, and all of a sudden, she had travelled back to that time when her dad caught her putting on some extra make up on her neck after a make out session got carried away with Billy Lawson. She had a hard time explaining that, and she sure as hell was going to have a hard time explaining this.

She felt Castle leaning against the chair at her back and she sighed. Her brain was foggy, completely useless under the scrutinizing stare of her partner, and the alcohol running through her veins wasn't helping, either.

"So that's it? You're gonna leave it at that?" The writer asked. He leaned farther into the armrest of the chair; crossing his arms and taking a hundred steps back from her with the gesture alone.

She huffed, turning too fast in the process, having to grasp his arm to steady herself. "What do you want me to say, Castle?" She asked, taking a couple of steps so she could sit on the armrest of the opposite chair She could feel the headache starting to build at the back of her skull. "It's not like it needs much explanation. What do you want to know?"

"You know what I want to know, Kate." He groaned, the sound of her first name on his lips making her insides burn. "Why are you here?"

"I already told you. I wanted to see you."

"Of course. So, what you mean is that you were in the middle of fucking another guy and suddenly you felt the inexplicable need to come see me. Is that it? 'Cause that makes even less sense than no explanation at all, Beckett."

She turned her face to him, her hand landing on his knee. "Maybe he wasn't man enough for me."

Something inside her buzzed brain snapped as soon as the words slipped from her tongue, and she jumped back to her feet. Her hands covered her mouth and she blushed so furiously, that she thought her blood was going to start gushing out of her pores.

Castle's stunned face didn't help much to alleviate her embarrassment.

By the time the writer reacted, she was halfway through the living room, trying to hold back the tears as she tripped over her own feet.

"Beckett wait!" He called. "Please."

"No. I gotta go, Castle. It's late and you were right; I shouldn't have come here. I am sorry." She blurted, a lot rushed, and a little tongue-twisted. "See you on Monday, ok?"

She opened the door, but before she was able to take a step outside, a hand closed around her wrist and dragged her inside the loft once again.

"Ah, no. You're not leaving."

The door closed before her and she felt the writer pulling on her arm to make her face him, but she refused to give in. She had already embarrassed herself enough.

"Castle, let go of me." She barked, her voice hard and steady, trying to convey all the strength that she was actually lacking at that precise moment.

"Beckett…" He sighed. "Kate. Look, I have no idea what has gotten into you tonight, but I can't let you go like this, ok?" He kept pulling on her wrist until she followed him to the kitchen and he made her sit on a stool, his hand never letting go of her, which made her skin twitch under his touch.

"I just wanna go home." She whispered. The weight of a freaking exhausting week and the hell of an emotional rollercoaster of a night falling on her shoulders all of a sudden. She was so tired.

The alcohol was starting to wear off and all that fake bravado she had brandished when she arrived at the writer's was melting away, along with the resolution to get him out of her system and move on with her life.

That had been the plan when she gave his address to the cabby, after leaving Dennis at the club. Come to his home and fuck his brains out, so she could get him out of her head and stop having those stupid fantasies about him all the time. He was her… partner? Sort of; and there was no way in hell she was going to fall for Richard 'one blonde on each arm' Castle, thank you very much. She just needed to have her way with him once, and then she'd be good to go on with her life. That was all.

Or, at least, that was what her brain wanted her to believe.

Castle stroked her arm lightly, the tenderness of the gesture making her mouth curve upwards a little bit. "Come on, it's late and you're not exactly sober yet, so why don't we move you to the couch, ok? I will lend you some clothes and then you can take a shower and stay the night in the guest room. You just need some rest. Everything will be clearer in the morning."

The rebel ray of sun that sneaked through the tiny gap left between the blinds and the window tickled Kate's nose, making it twitch. The funny feeling didn't go away, so she moaned and rubbed her face trying to get rid of the unwanted sensation. No success.

Sighing loudly she turned around in bed and stretched her limbs all she could, opening her eyes as she relaxed her still languid muscles. She smiled to herself; waking up with the sun was not something she had the luxury to do normally, but her bliss didn't last long. As soon as her brain became fully awake, it started pounding inside her skull, bringing back the memories of the night before, along with a horrible hangover.

The club, the alcohol, the guy, the bathroom stalls, his hands on her, the cab ride, Castle's lips, and then, a stupid and totally unwanted feeling of rejection.

She sat in bed and looked around, remembering that she had stayed at his loft for the night, but this for sure was not his guest room. This was his room.

She got out of bed and wandered into the ample bathroom, admiring the almost pool-sized tub and wishing she could have the chance to try it. He did offer her a shower last night, which she didn't take. She couldn't remember anything after he disappeared behind the door to his office to find her something to wear. She probably passed out before he came back, that being the reason she was still wearing her scant blue dress, that was barely covering the important parts of her anatomy.

She sighed her resignation and walked farther inside the bathroom, wanting to check herself in the mirror. She was going to have to face him again. She was going to have to swallow her pride and embarrassment and get out of his room, and then, out of his loft, as graciously as she could without losing any more of her confidence. That was going to be hard to do.

She sure as hell had done a great job making an ass of herself the night before, and she was certain that Castle would want to talk about it, but there was no way she was going to. Showing him so clearly that she wanted him had been a huge mistake; there was not a chance that she was going to verbalize it too.

After all, it was just a whim. He was an attractive, successful, smart man who she had admired even before she had met him (although he didn't need to know that), and it was totally natural that she was attracted to him in some way.

It had always been there, the attraction. It was inherent between them, but lately it had become unbearable. Every look, every smile, every stupid remark or flirtation made her go wild inside and she needed it to stop.

Get him out of your system, Kate. That had been her thought when she left the club the night before.

It was a good plan. How could it have failed? He should have taken the bait and gone with it so that she would be doing her walk of shame right now with one less problem in her head, but no, he had to go and be his charming self and be all worried and caring, and make her feel cheap, and stupid, and rejected.

Well, thank you, Castle.

After inspecting her appearance in the mirror, she turned to find the toilet, letting out a sharp scream when she found herself face to face with an unknown creature.

The bathroom door burst open with a bang and she startled so badly that she crashed against the wall behind her, her head hitting the tiles hard.

"Beckett, are you ok?" The writer asked, brandishing a spatula as a weapon.

Kate just watched him for a while, her eyes traveling from the writer to the life size action figure presiding over his bathroom, not knowing if she should laugh at his weapon of choice, or rip his head off for entering the room without knocking.

After a few moments to regain her composure, she plucked the spatula from his hand and hit his head with it. "What the fuck, Castle?" She yelled, trying to cover as much of her body as she could with her tiny dress. "What is this thing?"

The writer winced and rubbed his head, smirking a bit when he realized the reason of Beckett's distress. "Oh, I see you met Boba Fett." He laughed. "I can't believe you got scared by a pile of steel, detective."

"Well, I wasn't expecting it to be there. Who has a galactic bounty hunter in their bathroom?!"

Castle smiled and winked at her, finding it pretty interesting that she actually knew who Boba Fett was. "I do." Patting the action figure on the head, he turned to the door and waved the recovered spatula over his head. "Breakfast is almost ready, so hurry up!"

Beckett frowned and bit her lip, viciously. This was not going the way it should. "Breakfast?" She asked to herself. He's dreaming if he thinks I'm staying.

Castle was busy serving an obscene amount of eggs on a plate, when she walked out of his bedroom, smoothing her dress down and begging it to grow some extra inches of fabric to cover her up a bit more. It was a nice dress, just not something you would wear at 8 in the morning on a regular day, even less if you had embarrassed yourself in front of your friend/partner? by jumping him the night before without previous warning.

She stood in the middle of the living room staring awkwadrly at him, her hands playing with the hem of her dress and her teeth torturing her lower lip. She needed to get out of there, and she needed to do it fast.

Castle smiled at the view in front of him, apparently finding her discomfort very amusing. "I took out a hoodie for you last night. It's on the couch if you want it." He offered, taking two plates from the counter and moving to the dining table. "Breakfast is ready."

She didn't move for a while, still trying to figure out how to escape. She wasn't sure of what to do. He was absolutely convinced that she was staying for breakfast, but she was physically incapable of sitting at the table with him and pretend that nothing had happened, or even worse, sit there and discuss the events of the night before over coffee and pancakes.

"Beckett, this is getting cold." He called from the dining area, munching on some eggs.

Kate cleared her throat and approached the couch, picking up the navy blue hoodie from it and putting in on. "Castle, I'm sorry, but I am not staying."

TBC

Thanks so much for reading. Leave your comments below so I know how to improve this in any way ;)

Thank you, Tshlw, for betaing this for me and for dealing with my breakdowns during my writing process. You are the best, girl. No discussion.