Title: The Right Kind of Hangover- Cruising with Beckett
Rating: M
Pairing: Castle/Beckett
Disclaimer: Castle is not mine to claim / But to honor its influence is my aim. / Andrew Marlowe created this story / and I'm borrowing stuff to give it glory.
Author's Note: Ok, not my best disclaimer ever, but it'll work for my purposes at the moment.

Castle: Shakespeare, you are not.
Me: Never claimed I was, just a writer and poet putting one word in front of the other.
Castle: Ooh, great rewording of that.
Me: Thanks.
Castle: You're welcome. So… now what?
Me: Huh?
Castle: I bought her the dress, and we're going to pick up Alexis. So… now what? How's that going to go?
Me: I don't know. I just let things percolate and simmer a bit, taking my time, waiting for the creative juices flow…
Castle: …You realize you're even sounding like me now?
Me: Shut up, Castle.

Mr. Writer Monkey aside here... Thank you, everyone, who has reviewed or just looked at this silly little fiction with glee. It really makes me smile when I see that I've got an abundance of author alerts, story alerts, story faves, and views. Holy cow, I have 6,000+ views total! That's awesome! Thank you very much! I hope everything else I've written tickles your television tastebuds too.

Castle: Oooh, great alliteration.
Me: Yeah, thought that one was pretty good too.

Check out some of the other Castle stuff I've written too (My Alabaster Box is one of my favorites).

Hope you enjoy this little jaunt into Caskett love as they spin around town in such a lovely car… and madsthenerdygirl, you rock. Thanks for reviewing, and yes, I do have Castle in my head. It's far easier to hear his voice than Kate's sometimes because he's the one that usually says something rediculous and funny... same as I would.

Castle: That's creepy.
Me: Shut up, Castle.

See what I have to put up with? Enjoy!

Ferraris were hot. Sleek, fast, cool, strikingly pretty. Hotrod red, cobalt blue, white as pearl and electric yellow, they shone in the sun like new fallen stars. They were tasteful, classy, and treasured by their owners like the finest of jewelry. These cars proved not to be just flashy pieces of machinery to bring out on special occasions, like wooing and impressing bosses, friends or ladies. They dazzled as symbols of freedom, of beauty. If someone saw you in a Ferrari, they knew you were something special.

But not a single car, not even a Ferrari or an M3, could touch the lady riding shotgun with him now. She was something special, with her hair pulled back with her new comb, and the dress she wore looked stunning against her bronze skin. She left everything in the dust.

The entire ride, Castle spun the wheel with a one-hand feel, the other laced in the grip of his muse. He glanced to his right, admiring her for a second or two before he had to turn back to the road. This seemed to be two things, equal parts new and strange. He'd lived in her world of gritty detective work and unsolved murders for four years. At the beginning, it was a fish out of water experience - or at least, a freshwater fish in salt water. He'd thrown himself into an atmosphere that felt gritty, burning, sometimes hard to breathe. Barely keeping afloat in a den full of sharks, he'd floundered his way and proved to be somewhat useful during that time. He learned to keep swimming and eventually, he adapted to the environment of the real mystery world, one that wasn't entirely his own, but familiar enough. This time, though, it was quite different. It wasn't him who had to learn to cope in a world full of guns and suspects; it was her in a world full of glamor and high society.

Not like she didn't belong there; she belonged with him, period. As long as she existed in his life, she would always belong, no questions asked. But in his world… that would be too soon to tell. Watching her now, relaxed, carefree, so comfortable against the leather seat, it wouldn't be hard to see her waltzing at opening galas in an expensive cocktail dress, mingling with the rich and famous on and off his arm, charming the local millionaires and kicking out the boozers who had a bit too much to drink. She was a classy lady, and she could dance in her Jimmy Choos until the heels broke off; she could fit in that world if she really wanted to.

Time would tell if she wanted to.

Would she really want to?

"I love you, Kate," he murmured, rubbing the top of her hand with his thumb.

She glanced back at him and grinned. "Back atcha," she replied, and squeezed. "But apparently, not enough to let me drive."

He laughed. "Your car, you drive. My car, I drive."

"Since when does that work?"

"Uh, since the first time I walked into the precinct."

"That didn't work in NY so much, did it?"

Darn it. He thought she'd forgotten that. "Oh, come on. You strong armed me into it, Beckett."

She rolled her eyes and twirled a strand of her hair, an absent trait he'd noticed recently that made him smile uncontrollably. "You can't strong arm someone who gives you the keys voluntarily."

"You always have to get the last word, don't you?"

"I don't remember a time where I didn't."

He rolled his eyes, but he could feel his smile splitting his face. "You know, this is a whole new ballgame with us. There is an 'us' now. There's going to have to be some give and take here."

"Yeah, you give me the chance to finish a conversation, and I take it." She smooched his cheek. "Relax, Castle. I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to fight for the last word."

"You promise?"

"You make it sound so dirty…"

"Oh, I hope so."

Castle made a left turn at the stoplight, and pulled in front of Alexis's private high school, squeezing behind a Lexus and a Malibu and honking at a few graduates who couldn't seem to stand up straight. "Hey, what the…!"

Kate grabbed his arm and shook her head, lips in a line. "Nope. No. Don't do it. She's better than that, and you know it. She won't fall for booze in the punch or roofies in her water. Trust that."

He shook his head. "I'm going to kill whoever it was who decided to do something-"

"Ah! Hold it."

"Beckett?" They were too focused on each other to realize Alexis stood not even four feet away, blue eyes wide. She gripped her backpack self-consciously and furrowed her brow. It looked like she'd never seen Kate… oh yeah. She hadn't. Not like this. Oops.

He looked at her innocently, cast a fleeting glance at his lady, popped the trunk and gulped down air. "Uh, hey. How was the lock-in, Alexis? Did you have fun?"

Kate slid closer to him, thrilling him, but he could see that she felt a little more than awkward. This was going to be interesting... "Yeah, how was it?"

"Uh. Yeah, I had fun." She threw her stuff in the trunk of the car, jumped in beside Beckett, and hugged her, still quizzical. "Kate, you look great."

"Thanks," said Kate, who looked as uneasy as Castle did.

And that's when it hit him: no badge, sitting close, intimate. Oh boy. "Uh, Alexis? I would like you to… meet my… g-girlfriend?" Was he really saying this in front of his teenage daughter? Was he really this terrified of her reaction? Was he really stuttering?

Alexis buckled herself in and rolled her eyes. "About time," she said.