Chapter 3: Game On

From the moment they stepped out of the house and set foot in the garden, Castle hadn't left Beckett's side- not even for a second. Every time she thought she'd be able to slip away, or lose him in the crowd gathering in the garden for drinks before dinner, he caught up with her in no time, trailing behind her like a puppy. And boy, was he enjoying himself. The writer was introducing her to anybody willing to listen as his girlfriend, with a proud smile and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. It took all of the effort she could muster to not slap the goofy grin off of his face every time the word "girlfriend" came out of his mouth.

Had Beckett been amongst friends, things might have been different, but unfortunately, that was not the case. Castle knew nearly all of the people in attendance, which put Beckett at a clear disadvantage, and at least half of the women in the crowd were making goo goo eyes at him, which wasn't helping her to calm down. Luckily, it wasn't a large crowd, with only about thirty people there. At least Beckett had that working in her favor.

At some point during the last half hour, Castle's hand had found the small of Beckett's back, and had stayed there very consistently. She tried to resist at first, shaking his hand off of her back as subtly as she could manage. Castle, however, was intent on his purposes. The moment she finally managed to free herself from his gentle touch, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She couldn't do anything without drawing unwanted attention back to them, so instead she worked on keeping a straight face, despite the anger she could feel boiling inside of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Patricia studying them. She didn't want her to see through their charade, and the woman already seemed suspicious. So, remembering Patricia's words from earlier, she decided that the woman was right: they had to step it up a notch, her own rules be damned.

It was very rewarding, seeing Castle's reaction when she started to reciprocate his advances. The first time she tilted into him, leaning into his side until her hips brushed his, he could barely suppress his little jump of surprise. And later, when she put her arm around his waist, he started babbling like an idiot. Perhaps this dinner could be fun after all.

Beckett was pondering the potential benefits of running her hands down Castle's chest in front of the most boring guests yet, just to make him squirm, when she saw Patricia sauntering towards them. It was too late to escape, so she stood her ground when the elderly couple stepped away and their spot was claimed by their host.

"My, my, don't you look dashing?" she exclaimed in greeting.

Beckett took a quick glance down at her clothes; she hadn't changed since the tour earlier. She wasn't wearing work attire, exactly, but looking around, she realized how she might seem out of place; her combination of dress pants and white blouse a stark contrast with the fashionable dresses of the guests in attendance. Was that a jab at her? One could never know with this kind of people.

"As you do, Patricia," Castle replied, acting more put together than Beckett felt, especially with his hand still resting on the small of her back. "But I have to say that I'm surprised. I thought your husband-to-be would be by your side. How come he's not hot on your tail?"

Patricia's jaw twitched for a second, and when she answered, her tone was forced. "Albert is stuck in a very important meeting. He won't make it tonight, but he sends his most sincere apologies."

There was a pregnant pause, in which Patricia swallowed hard, her gaze to the ground.

"Well, I'm officially impressed with this party. Congratulations on your hard work," Beckett offered, trying to move the conversation along. It seemed to do the trick, because Patricia's chin raised again and the light was back in her eyes.

"It was hard work, indeed. It didn't help matters that both the florist and the catering service got lost on their way here this afternoon. It was chaotic," she said with a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes and making a dismissive gesture with her hand. "And they had the nerve to try to blame it on me! They said I had given them the wrong address. As if I didn't know my own address!"

"Oh, yes, I have the same problem all the time," Castle conceded. "I have a property here as well. A little down the road, actually. The names of these roads are very confusing, if you're not from this area."

Beckett tried to mask her surprise by sipping at her champagne flute. She had no idea that Castle owned a house in the Hamptons. She could have guessed it, though. The man was rich, that much was clear, but until that moment, it hadn't come to her mind that he might own more than one property.

"Exactly," Patricia agreed, excitedly. "But, thankfully, it all turned out okay."

"More than okay," Castle nodded. "This is fantastic."

Beckett narrowed her eyes at him in warning. He'd better remember whose side he was on. He deflated a little next to her, then turned back to Patricia.

"But, um… I was expecting a larger gathering, to be honest," he said.

"That's tomorrow. Tonight, only our closest friends were invited," the blonde explained. Castle turned to Beckett with a puzzled look, undoubtedly confused as to why the two of them had been included in that select group. It wasn't a surprise to Beckett, but she wasn't about to share that part of her past with Castle. Besides, knowing him, he would discover the truth soon enough.

"I'm so glad you're here, Katie," Patricia continued in a soft voice, resting a hand in Beckett's arm for a second, before turning to leave.

"What was that about?" Castle asked as soon as their hostess was out of earshot, but Beckett ignored him. Something in their brief exchange had left her with a strange feeling, like she was missing a small detail. Then it hit her. Of course! Why didn't they think about this sooner?

"Castle! Your house!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"What about it?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders.

"We'll sleep there. It's the perfect solution!"

"Eh, no, it's not," he scoffed.

"Why not?"

"Because it'd allow you the opportunity to hide. I won't let that happen," he answered, matter-of-factly.

"Are you kidding me?" she said, raising her voice. Around them, people shot them curious looks, so Castle hooked his arm in hers and led her further away from the crowd, never losing his smile.

"I'm completely serious. I was ready to get us out of this mess, but you chose to change your mind at the last minute. Remember Alexis's call?"

"What?" she asked in disbelief, unable to form a more elaborate sentence.

"Besides, I'm enjoying watching the vein in your forehead grow" he added. "It's more fun to wait and see how long it takes you to explode than spend the weekend hiding in my house." And with that, he went chasing after a waiter for another drink.

Beckett let out a huff. The nerve of that guy! Okay, two can play this game, she thought. If Castle thought he was going to drive her crazy, he was in for a surprise.

As soon as it was announced that dinner was ready, the guests followed their hostess to the backyard, where a large table was beautifully set, between a big ornamental fountain and a balustrade overlooking a fantastic garden, which merged with the beach in the distance. The whole setting was illuminated by torches, infusing the night with an almost magical atmosphere.

"Shall we?" Castle asked, giving a pointed look at the table in front of them. She gave a quick nod in response, and he brought his hand to her back, resting it between her shoulder blades, flashing her his best "book jacket" grin. Taking a deep breath, she squared her jaw and led the way.

They walked all the way down one side of the table, then almost all the way back up the other side, before locating their seats, indicated by the ornate name cards placed at each setting. Beckett let out a sigh of relief when she realized that they were seated on the opposite end of the table from Patricia. Castle must had realized that, too, because his face lit up with a grin. Their joy over that realization was short-lived, though, because one look at the card directly across from Castle's confirmed that they had to share their end of the table with one of the cougars that had been devouring Castlewith her eyes from the moment she saw him appear.

Castle wasn't helping her calm down, with his perfect gentleman's manners. He pulled her chair out for her, then seated himself, keeping a respectable distance between them. He was trying to unnerve her, changing gears so suddenly that it was making her slightly dizzy. It was infuriating! She hated not to be in control, so she had to do something about it, to throw him off balance.

Placing a hand on his knee under the table seemed like a good place to start. She was immediately rewarded, as the simple gesture caused him to choke on air in the middle of a sentence. Everyone around them shot them amused looks, letting Beckett know that the gesture hadn't gone unnoticed. Castle, in retaliation, rested an arm on the back of Beckett's chair, barely grazing her shoulders as he scooted himself closer to her. Game on, then.

The guest sitting to Beckett's right, a young man with a perfectly styled hair and a smile so standard it had to be artificial, turned towards them.

"You two make a really cute couple," he complimented. Beckett was torn between her annoyance at his comment and the satisfaction of watching the girl who was devouring Castle with her eyes make a face of disgust. Next to her, Castle nodded politely. "How long have you been together?" the man asked.

"One year exactly. Well, almost. Our anniversary is this weekend," Castle explained with more enthusiasm than needed, in Beckett's opinion.

"Oh, really? What a coincidence! Congratulations!"

"What day exactly is your anniversary?" the woman in front of them chimed in.

"It depends, really. If you count our first date, then on Sunday. But if you count the first time we had-"

"On Sunday," Beckett interrupted. "One year on Sunday."

"Best year of our lives, right honey?" Castle said, running his hand down Beckett's shoulder and giving her arm a little squeeze.

"Right, babe," she answered, eliciting a chorus of "awws" and "aren't they cute"s from the people around them.

The smug smile on Castle's face had to go. It was time to bring the heavy artillery. "But you can't imagine how long it took for me to agree to date him… Ricky has the worst flirting tactics I've ever seen! Seriously, he's like a nine-year-old."

The man sitting to Castle's left looked interested, so Beckett leaned towards him over a mortified-looking Castle, as if she were sharing a secret, although she spoke at a normal volume, so that everybody could hear her.

"Well, for starters, he pretended that I didn't exist. Every time I entered a room he was in, he would start talking to whoever was there but me. I guess he wanted to seem indifferent. And he would have succeeded…" she paused to maximize the effect of her next statement, "if he didn't sweat so much!"

Around her, Castle's arm tensed, and the laughs around them grew in intensity.

"Seriously, it was like a fountain" she continued. "It made me wonder if he had some sort of perspiration problem. In fact, that was what our first conversation was about. I remember I told him-"

Much to her chagrin, her story was interrupted by the arrival of the waiters with the hors d'oeuvres.

"Great! The food is here," proclaimed Castle, a little louder than necessary. "Wow, I'm starving."

While the rest of the guests focused their attention on the food, Castle glared at Beckett, who had to resist the urge of sticking her tongue at him. One point for Beckett.

During the rest of the meal, they continued to throw verbal punches at each other, disguising them as cute anecdotes and comments, each of them more embarrassing than the one before. Castle's arm didn't leave the back of Beckett's chair once, though. He didn't seem to mind eating with his left hand, but Beckett was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. By the time the waiters served dessert, the heat radiating from Castle's arm felt like it was scorching her back, making her sweat as much as he did in her fictional story. Or at least, that's what it felt like.

Over time, their stories had been getting dangerously closer to the truth, with Castle narrating their supposed first night together.

"Do you know what was the last thing she said to me before we went to sleep? She told me, 'I will let you know, Mr. Castle, that I sleep with a gun.'" At this point, everyone in the table was in stitches, and Castle was on a roll. "I was horrified! Of course, that explained a lot, like the fact that she hadn't had a serious boyfriend in quite some time. They must have been terrified!"

Beckett launched a counter-attack by sharing with the table how speechless and paralyzed he had been the first time he saw her in an undercover operation speaking with a Russian accent.

Patricia's toast interrupted the story of how Beckett owned Castle's complete works, tagged as "From the library of Katherine Beckett", and how that proved that she was a megafan. Beckett was going to kill Ryan and Esposito for that one.

On the other side of the table, Patricia thanked them for attending the party, and announced a day full of surprises for tomorrow. After that, the guests stood up and scattered into smaller groups. Much to Beckett's surprise, Castle declined an invitation to go play poker with some of the youngest men and helped Beckett out of her chair.

"Thanks, man, but I'm beat. Maybe tomorrow. I think I'm gonna head upstairs. Are you coming, sweetie?" he asked, turning to Beckett with a forced smile and tired eyes. Apparently, the charade was taking his toll on him as well.

"Yes, baby. Thank you," she said, taking the arm he offered her.

"Right, you have an anniversary to celebrate, don't you?" one of the men closest to them teased. Castle reacted by winking at him conspiratorially. Beckett, for her part, wasn't capable of muster even the tiniest of smiles.

That did it. She was finally ready to explode.

As soon as he opened the bedroom door, Castle realized they had a more urgent problem than a bit of gossiping. There was only one bed in the room. Of course, he had noticed that before, but he had pushed the problem aside, focusing instead on driving Beckett crazy. Until then.

He stopped in his tracks in the middle of the room, pondering what their next step could be, but Beckett didn't even hesitate. She strode to the bed, took one of the blankets and a pillow and turned back to Castle, extending them towards him.

"Goodnight, Castle," she said flatly.

He reached for the items without thinking about it, totally taken aback by her actions. "Excuse me?" was all he could think to ask.

"Since it's your fault that we have to sleep in the same room, I think it should be me that gets the bed," said Beckett, disappearing through the bathroom door, her pajamas in hand.

Castle made quick work of changing his own clothes, slipping on his plaid flannel pants just in time before Beckett reentered the room.

"And where do you suggest I sleep, Beckett?" he questioned with a serious expression.

"That rug seems comfortable," she replied, gesturing with her head towards one corner of the room.

"I'm not sleeping on the floor, Beckett," he stated.

"You should have thought about that before," she shrugged.

"Before what?"

"Before refusing to spend the night at your place, where I assume you have more than one bed, or even a couch!" She was starting to raise her voice, and Castle counted to ten before he responded, hoping to keep this argument from escalating even more.

"This isn't my fault, Beckett," he pleaded, trying to get her to calm down.

"Oh, no? Who accepted the invitation in the first place, without even consulting me?" She hadn't looked him in the eye in that whole time, too busy arranging her belongings on one of the nightstands.

"Right, I screwed up, I'm sorry. But to be fair, you agreed to come, and I could have gotten us out of this mess a couple of hours ago, but you decided -without asking me, by the way- that suddenly, you wanted to stay." He was getting flustered, his speech becoming fast and inarticulated.

That seemed to do the trick. Beckett turned to look at him, seemingly at a loss of words.

"So don't blame it on me, Beckett, because I'm not able to know what's going on in that mind of yours," he continued, more and more annoyed by the second. "Hell, you don't seem to know it yourself!"

"If being in my company is that hard for you, why were you so intent on coming?" she yelled back at him.

"I thought I was doing you a favor."

"A favor?" she asked in disbelief. "Forcing me to spend two days with people I despise? I'd rather stay at home, alone. That way I wouldn't have to put up with your nonsense!"

There was a beat of silence, before Castle spoke again, softly this time.

"Nonsense? I wasn't the only one pretending down there, Beckett."

"Really? I've seen you very comfortable around your friends, Ricky."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"If you wanted to come to the party to rub elbows with the jet set, you didn't need me. In fact, I'm a nuisance," she stated, narrowing her eyes.

"I didn't come here to spend the weekend with them, Beckett."

"Then, why were you so determined to come?" she inquired, raising her hands with an exasperated sigh.

"For you! I just wanted to spend time with you outside of the precinct!" he practically shouted.

"That's why you forced me into accepting an invitation I would have never accepted in a million years? So I cannot say no to you? I'm not one of your bimbettes, Castle. I'm not going to fall to your feet just by spending a little while in your company."

"I've never thought that…" he started, but was interrupted by Beckett's rant.

"Look, why don't you go back downstairs? I've seen the way the other girls looked at you during dinner. Who knows, Castle? Maybe you could make the best out of the weekend, after all," she all but spat at him.

Castle didn't say one more word. He walked to the bed, took all the pillows and the covers and retired back to the rug. When he passed her, he said in a low voice. "I thought that after two years, you knew me better, Beckett. Obviously, I was wrong. Sleep well."

He settled on the rug as comfortably as he could. On the other end of the room, Beckett did the same in the bare bed, curling her legs into her chest and laying her head awkwardly on her arms. He felt a momentary pang of guilt at the sight and considered giving her at least one pillow and a blanket, but the cold emanating from the floor made him reconsider. With every deep breath, he could feel his anger fading away, only to be replaced by a profound hurt.

That's what happened when you pushed Kate Beckett too far. You ended up sleeping on the floor like a kicked puppy.

Once again, thank you very much for your reviews and kind words. I don't have to reply personally to all of you, but they're much appreciated :)

And I said it before, but it's worth repiting: thank you so much to L (encantadaa) for her help with this story.