The drive from the station to Castle's wasn't that far, even by New York, standards, but she had a chance to cool off a bit by the time she arrived. Furious and frustrated when she left the precinct, by the time she rang the bell she was more resigned than anything – and aware that if Montgomery was the one at fault in this instance, as it appeared he was, then she had no fair reason to take her annoyance out on Castle.

Martha answered the door, looking as suave as ever despite the early hour. She smiled when she saw who it was.

"Detective Beckett, good morning."

Beckett returned the smile, feeling the last of the anger that had ridden shotgun with her on the way to apartment fade. Martha really was a nice person and she liked her.

"Hi, Martha."

"Come in!" She moved aside and ushered Beckett into the room without giving her a choice. "Richard's upstairs."

"Okay."

Leading the way into the kitchen, she looked over her shoulder.

"Coffee?"

"Please."

"Richard! Detective Beckett's here!"

There was a faint reply, and Martha pulled a coffee mug down from the cupboard and poured a cup of coffee which she deposited on the counter in front of the detective.

"Is everything all right?"

Beckett nodded, taking a sip. It was good – like always.

"I'm just tendering an invitation."

Martha smiled.

"To the convention?"

"You heard about it?"

She rolled her eyes, her smile broadening to a grin.

"It's all he was talking about when he came home last night. I was under the impression that you had told him he couldn't go…"

It was more a question than a statement, and Beckett couldn't help but feel a flash of annoyance toward Montgomery once more.

"I did."

"But…?"

"I was overruled."

"Oh?"

Before she could answer Castle came trotting down the stairs. He grinned when he saw her.

"Detective Beckett. Good morning!"

She managed a smile that probably didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Good morning."

His smile faded.

"Everything okay? You look annoyed. What did I do?"

He was a very perceptive guy, she knew, but she was stilled chagrined by the fact that he could read her so well.

"Nothing."

"She's here to invite you to the convention," Martha told him, to let Beckett off the hook. "So be nice."

With that, the older woman left the room with her cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other. Castle turned to look at the detective.

"Really?"

"Yes."

He frowned.

"You changed your mind?"

"It was changed for me."

He caught on immediately, and put both hands up in surrender.

"I didn't do anything, I swear."

That actually made her smile.

"I know."

He grinned, looking relieved – and excited once more.

"I really get to come?"

It was her turn to roll her eyes.

"It's not going to be that exciting, you know? A lot of boring lectures and workshops."

"Some hands on stuff?"

She shrugged.

"Yes, probably."

"It'll be fun!"

His enthusiasm was infectious and she couldn't help but smile. Maybe it would be, at that.

"You'll need to get a room, though. Good luck."

He waved that problem aside with a casual sweep of his hand.

"So should I rent that airplane?"

She frowned.

"You were serious?"

"About flying you? Absolutely."

She'd never heard anything before about him being able to fly.

"I think I'll pass."

"I'm a good pilot, really." He smiled again. "Come on, it'll be fun. I'll even let you fly the plane."

She was wavering and he could tell. Which made him try even harder.

"You won't have to watch what you pack," he added. "No weight limit. And no security check."

"No strip search?" she asked, enjoying the banter – and the chance to mess with him. "Too bad."

He groaned, miming a stab wound in the heart.

"Missed my chance."

"Let me see your pilot's license," she said, holding out her hand.

"Really?"

"I'm not saying yes," she told him. "Just let me see it."

He pulled out his wallet and rifled through it for a moment and pulled out a piece of paper that was a little battered. Handing it over with a grin, he watched her expectantly as she looked at it carefully, as if trying to decide if it was real. It looked real – and he'd had it a long time.

She glanced over to him.

"You won't get us lost?"

"Nope. I've flown to Buffalo before."

She handed the license back to him.

"Fine. Rent the plane."

Now his smile was broad.

"Great! You won't be sorry."

She rolled her eyes again.

"I already am."