A/N: Thank you all so much for all the love you showed for the first chapter. Ask, and you shall receive. Here's chapter 2.

Chapter 2

Castle made the call during lunch time the next day after that first phone call, hoping that she would be on a break and free enough to chat with him for a couple of minutes. This, of course, was a rationalization of the whole episode, the truth behind this early venture being his inability to stay away from her now that he knew he didn't have to.

When she picked up the call, she was out of breath. The reason, as she explained it, was that the team had just caught a break, and she was making her way to her Crown Vic. She dismissed his apologies sharply and told him she'd call back at a better time.

He knew that she hadn't meant the words to be harsh, but he couldn't squelch the feeling of disappointment that coursed through him; feeling glad at least, that she couldn't see it all over his features. The minute she'd heard his 'okay', she cut the call.

That had been hours ago. Seated on his chair that he was balancing precariously on its hind legs, he was stoically avoiding counting the minutes – though he had no target time, which made it that much more pathetic – and failing miserably. It came to the point that he was challenging himself to keep from glancing at his wall mounted clock, each time being longer than the last. Clearly he was a master procrastinator.

In the immediate hours that followed the call, he had resigned himself to hashing out more chapters of the second Nikki Heat book – he hadn't yet named it, though he did have a few scandalous ideas in mind – but there was a limit to how productive Castle could get before he felt the inherent need to annoy another human being.

Annoying Kate at this juncture was not a mistake he intended to consciously commit. Calling her was out of the question. Unfortunately, his back-up annoyable people were busy today, too. Alexis had been studying for extra credit. Martha was going to be out in the theatre with her obnoxious theatre-critic friend – and by friend she meant crazy person – and by crazy person, he understood she meant bitch. His mother was classy enough for him to know that she wouldn't think what she meant, or mean what she thinks. His mind, it seemed, was turning the evil forces of boredom on itself, and annoying him with convoluted thoughts.

He sighed, knowing that it was either this – being ruthlessly tortured by the superpower of his own mind – or making it stop by doing the one thing that he wanted to avoid at all costs. She said that she would call. He just wished that she'd given him a specific time. Actually, he wasn't even that picky. She could have just given him a vague time - something along the lines of 'I'll call you in a couple of hours, Castle', or 'I'll call you tomorrow, Castle', or even 'I'll call something in the first half of this decade, Castle.' Was that too much to ask? Was it? He sighed again, knowing that it was.

Thankfully he was rendered free from further strange musings by the piercing tone of his cell as it tore through the silence of his quiet Hamptons home. It wasn't the brightest of ideas to leave it on so loud at home, but he wanted to make sure that he didn't miss any important calls (calls from Kate Beckett and/or Alexis). It was an even stupider move to have been so enthusiastic in answering it that his chair suddenly tilted forward, and he stupidly overcompensated and fell all the way back – chair, cell phone in hand, and all. Somehow he even managed to answer it during his less than graceful, yet strangely acrobatic fall to the (thankfully carpeted) floor.

She must have heard the noise, though muffled, because she sounded genuinely concerned on the phone.

"Ouch," Castle rasped as the breath had been knocked out of him.

"Castle?" she started worriedly, "What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"Heeeey Beckett," he greeted enthusiastically, "Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine, and dandy. I was just … doing research."

"Sure you were," she said disbelievingly.

"You don't believe me?"

"Give me a good reason."

"Research is a good reason. It's a fantastic reason. It is, in fact, a stellar reason."

"And what exactly was the subject of your research today?"

His reply was quick, "The direction to fall in, out of the desk chair, in a manner to best avoid being seriously injured. For when Nikki jumps Rook like a wild cat on its prey, because she's so taken by the image of him slaving away, writing what could possibly be a Pulitzer-worthy article; that she has to have him there and then, quick and dirty."

He was greeted by silence.

"Kate?"

And then came the uproarious laughter which made him think that falling to the ground and narrowly escaping serious head injury was worth the trouble, and he'd do it again in a second if this was the reward.

"Castle," she gasped, "That is the most ridiculous load of crap you have ever tried to sell me."

"Really? Are you counting my government conspiracy theories, secret spy missions to save the world, alien abductions and Italian mobster family feud ideas?"

She laughed some more at that. "Okay, in that case, it's a strong contender."

"Face it, Beckett. You're only laughing because the ideas are so ridiculous – as you put it. I happen to think they are an excellent example of the products of a brilliant– "

"Deranged," she interrupted, and he ignored.

"- mind. They are in fact, so ridiculous that they have the potential of being true!" he finished.

"That makes no sense."

"It makes so little sense, that it has the potential of being true!" he said.

Now, he couldn't see her, but he could picture with ninety percent certainty, the adorable way she rolled her eyes at him. He also thought about how she'd appreciate his efforts of holding back his lovesick sigh. He was being so well behaved today, and she wasn't even around to properly appreciate it.

"But never you mind about the details, my dear detective. Tell me, what have you been up to all day? Did you succeed in doing that one hot, wild, kinky thing you love to do?" he spoke in a low, suggestive voice.

She gasped, and managed to choke on nothing. "What?" she asked, confused, and – it sounded like she was blushing. He liked that he could imagine what she looked like just by hearing her voice.

"You're the one who told me about it, detective. I'm surprised you've forgotten, though admittedly, it has been a while."

"What are you talking about, Castle?" This time, he imagined that cute little furrow in her brow.

"Putting killers behind bars," he said to put her out of her misery. "Did you arrest someone today, Beckett?"

She was stuck between being oddly touched that he'd remembered her words, almost verbatim; and being annoyed at how childish he could get. Instead of choosing between the two, she opted to move on and answer his question. "We did. It was Lewis Mitchell."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. We were almost completely sure about that for days, but we couldn't find evidence to tie him to the three victims. Today, though, we found an oddity in the financials of all three vics, and once we traced it back to him, everything else fell into place."

"Good work, Beckett. Glad to know that I no longer need to feel guilty about leaving you guys for the summer, without my input speeding things along considerably. Keep that up and you won't even need me back there."

"Hah."

"And I'm so very touched that you're not bothering to refute that," he said flatly. "Is it so hard for you to say something like, 'Oh, Castle. Don't say such absurd things. Of course we need you.'" he said in a mocking, high pitch; sounding dreamy, and completely unlike Kate Beckett from any realms of reality.

She actually snorted. "We don't need you, Castle. Well, I suppose I can't speak for the boys. They have been looking longingly at your chair. But I certainly don't."

"Hmm. I'll be sure to bring them back something good. You, on the other hand, don't need me," he huffed.

Though he joked about it, she could hear the hurt and uncertainty in his voice. Strangely, she was not okay with that. She didn't want him to feel unappreciated. Because he wasn't. She did appreciate him.

"I don't need you, Castle. I've been doing this job long before you entered my life. But – "

"But?" he repeated hopefully.

"But it's like I've already told you, Castle. I like having you here. You make things fun. The darkness is a little less dark when you're around," she said softly.

"Kate," he said in awe.

It was a little awkward – the serious turn that this conversation had taken – and it made her slightly uncomfortable. So she fell back on what was familiar, and comfortable – banter. "And you buy me coffee. The good stuff. You can't get a girl hooked and then disappear on her, Castle."

He gave an appreciative chuckle. "Don't worry, Kate. I see it as a mission in life to keep you well caffeinated. It's part self-preservation and part sheer heroism to save the world from the possibility of an enraged, decaf – Kate. I'm doing the world a favor."

"You're such a saint," she said, with an eye roll that he wouldn't see.

"Why, thank you, Kate. I'm glad you at least appreciate my skills as your personal coffee-slave," he said, sounding sincere.

She had to laugh. She'd laughed more in these two days, than in the last two weeks combined.

"I should go. Need to catch up on sleep."

"Yeah. Sure," he said softly. "Get some rest, Kate. We'll talk later."

"You getting some writing done?" she asked, sounding reluctant to end the call, though she was the one to bring it up. He could hear some rustling in the background and imagined that she was tucking herself in. She'd been working hard, and here he was, keeping her up just because he was bored, and he wanted to hear her voice. He was also pleased that she was prolonging the conversation, even if just by a bit.

"Yeah. Plenty. I'm feeling inspired."

"That's good," she said, sounding tired.

"Sleep, Kate," he whispered. "Until next time."

"Night, Castle. Till tomorrow," she slurred out before cutting the call.

With his eyes closed, he brought his phone – which was emanating warmth, much like the sort that seemed to fill his heart – to his forehead, and allowed the small smile that was playing on his lips spill wider till it lit up his whole face.

A/N: Ummm… So this was basically nothing but fluff. Should I be sorry? :P I'm not entirely sure.