A/N: Oops! Things took a turn I wasn't expecting. Rating just jumped up to M!

Chapter 13 – The Booty Call

By 9.58pm the silence is a loud as a tornado siren.

She made dinner as soon as she got in. Okay, so maybe she just warmed some leftovers in the microwave until it pinged. But that still counts as cooking when you're 23 years old, living alone, have a killer job and a bad head cold. During dinner she channel surfed, catching the last few seconds of NBC's Nightly News just as Brian Williams and his expressive eyebrows bid the East Coast goodnight.

She took a bath after that, lolling amidst a sea of vanilla-scented foam until the pads of her fingers wrinkled like raisins and the water went cold. She tried reading for a while but failed to find a comfortable position in which to settle, even when she lay down on the bed. Her mind kept wandering off the action, so that the words tripped past her eyes unseen amidst an obscuring haze of busy thought. She realized she'd absorbed none of the last few minutes' worth of reading when she turned to the next page and felt as lost as a mapless stranger in a foreign land, giving up this pointless pursuit with a growl of frustration.

By 9.34pm she was pacing the floor of her bedroom muttering, "Does this kid never sleep?"

By 9.45pm she was sitting cross-legged on her bed with a green face mask on, the cucumber-scented gunk purely a means to distract her as the minutes continued to tick by with no call.

By 9.57pm the mask has set like a rock, and when she leant over the bathroom sink to study her face in the mirror, a simple prod and a grimace had her cheeks cracking like parched earth during a sub-Saharan drought. Great swathes of her skin took on a crackle-glaze appearance which only got worse when she made increasingly comical faces in the mirror, causing the mask to begin to flake and disintegrate, showering her sink with mint green dust.

And then, finally, the phone rings. Of course it does. Right at the moment when she has the faucet running, the water just attaining the perfect lukewarm temperature with which to turn the desiccated layer of fragrant pistachio colored concrete that's currently freezing her face back into a chalky cream consistency, enabling her to finally rinse it all away.

She runs to the bedroom with a towel around her neck to catch the drips and flakes. Light green paint, or so it appears, rubs off on the edge of the hand towel turning the fine cotton loops into sticky, hard little clumps. "Why oh why?" she chants to herself as she dives on top of her phone in the middle of the bed before the call can end.

"Beckett!" she barks out breathlessly, as she bounces on top of the mattress on her stomach.

There's a long pause and then the voice on the other end – she knows it's him from the breathing alone, and how weird is that? – asks tentatively, "Is this a bad time?"

"Uh…no. No, I'm sorry you just caught me—"

Doing what, exactly? She's out of breath, her voice sounds weird from lying on her front, she's pretty sure he can probably hear the rustle of her bed linen over the phone line. Crap!

This is embarrassing.

"Kate? What are you…are you sure this is okay? I haven't called too late?" He sounds bemused.

"No, I was just…I was…"

"Are you alone?" Now he sounds jealous, she realizes with something of a thrill.

"Of course I'm alone," she insists, or is it more like reassures.

She can hear him grinning now. "You sound a little out of breath, Kate. What exactly were you doing?" he teases, with a devilish amusement to his voice.

She buries her burning face in the towel, which is rapidly turning solid. Oh, God! He thinks she was doing that.

There's a long silence while she debates how honest to be. It's just a face mask, no big crime in that. But then she doesn't want to come across as too girly, or even worse: obsessed with her appearance. But then what he actually thinks she was doing – while she waited for him to call no less – is even more embarrassing.

Honesty wins over vanity (and Castle's fantasy) in the end. "I'm wearing a face mask," she admits with a sigh.

His answer is not at all what she expects.

"Cool! What kind? I have Batman, Darth Vader, Captain America, oh and Alexis has this really neat Supergirl ma—"

"Cucumber," she replies po-faced, mostly because she can hardly move her face.

He sounds puzzled. "Cucumber? Is that from—"

"It's from CVS," Kate interjects, getting a little exasperated at this awkward, confused exchange. She so wanted to enjoy this phone call and now they're off on the wrong foot, talking at cross-purposes and…

And then Castle starts laughing. He actually starts laughing.

"You mean the green gooey kind my mother uses, don't you?" he clarifies, and she can hear the amused embarrassment in his voice. "I'm an idiot."

"And apparently I'm a lot like your mother. Shall we start again?"

Castle chuckles. "Good idea. Hi, I'm Rick. You must be Kate."

"Actually, could I maybe wash this gunk off before my face sets in this expression forever, and then I'll call you back?"

"Promise?"

"What, that I'll call back? Yes," she laughs, sending a shower of mint chip colored dust onto her pillow.

"Okay, go. Make yourself even prettier."

Kate blushes at the compliment, feeling her cheeks begin to get sticky again as she starts to perspire beneath the mask.

"Call you in five," she says quietly, as if they do this every night and have been for years.

If only.

"I'll be here."

His voice is warm and inviting, and it sends a shiver of anticipation through her.

"Better be," quips Kate, feeling brave at this distance.

"Counting the seconds," he jokes. "Don't stand me up."

"You can talk. It's well after ten already. Isn't this a school night?"

Her comment more of less reveals her hand – how earnestly she'd been awaiting his call tonight - and she rolls her eyes at her own pathetically girly behavior.

But Castle doesn't tease her like she expects him too. His apology is completely genuine and heartfelt. "Yeah, look, I'm sorry about that. Alexis went down at eight but then my mother came home and the drama—"

"Wait! Hold up. You…you live with your mother?"

Castle coughs. Evidently this is a something of an awkward subject, if the pause that halts the flow of conversation is any indication.

"It's…complicated," he eventually replies.

"Complicated? Complicated as in…you can't answer yes or no because…you're not sure or…or…"

"Wash your face and call me back. I'm not trying to hide anything, I promise. We can talk about it then."

He sounds so sensible and grown-up, not at all like the mouthy, naked, drunk guy she first came across in the park, sitting astride a police horse. And it turns out adult Rick is even more of a turn-on than crazy, naked Rick. Who'd have thought?

Kate pauses before answering. Seems she's not the only one with issues or secrets or whatever the hell this is. He's gone easy on her so far. She should do the same for him. "Okay," she concedes, waiting to hear if he'll say anything else. When he doesn't she simply adds, "Talk in five."

Five minutes runs closer to nine when she decides to open a bottle of wine, get ready for bed (naked) and slide beneath the sheets before dialing his number, all once her face is squeaky clean and moisturized. She feels naughty and indulgent, but also safe doing this when she can choose how of much of herself to reveal. The anonymity of the phone call is freeing and oddly erotic, since she knows that there's a definite spark between them, and he's made no attempt to hide how attracted he is to her. She's been lonely for a long time – mostly because she has chosen to isolate herself from the opposite sex. Castle makes her feel a lot less lonely and a lot more connected to life outside of her job, even if he kind of forced his way into this position in the beginning.

He sounds amused and warmly familiar when he answers on the first ring. "I was beginning to think you were gonna stand me up."

Kate smiles to herself. If only he could see her right now. "Uh…nope. Definitely not standing."

The comical gasp on the other end spreads her grin even wider and emboldens her even further. The half glass of wine she swallowed in the kitchen before topping her glass off doesn't hurt either.

"Are you…are you in bed? Are you calling me from your bedroom, Officer Beckett?" he kind of squeaks.

"It wouldn't be the first time," she adds to apparent devastating impact.

He's silent for a beat or two as his brain ticks over. "You…you mean the first time we talked on the phone you were…"

"Uh-huh."

"Naked?"

"Not the first time."

"Oh my God. So that means…"

"And I have wine," she adds, with a wicked grin.

"Wait, are you drunk?"

"No! I just opened a bottle, like right now. First couple of sips, I promise," she fibs, crossing her fingers on top of the covers.

His brain takes off on a different, more suspicious tack.

"Did you need Dutch courage to call me back?"

"We were going to talk about your mother. I thought I might need some help." She giggles after she says this, and she hears Castle's breathing change, as if he's standing up and then maybe walking around. "Are you going somewhere?"

"They say it's dangerous to drink alone. A slippery slope," he adds, with prescience he could never begin to guess at. "So I'm going to join you."

"Name your poison," replies Kate, biting the inside of her cheek.

"What are you having?"

"Just what was in my fridge. Glass of chardonnay."

"Mm, a white wine girl."

"What about you?"

"I'm more of a red wine guy."

"I'm an either or, just for future reference," she tells him boldly.

"Reference so filed, somewhere safe. I will make sure to have both in stock next time you visit."

Kate can feel her heart thudding beneath the covers. Her face is hot and her smile is wide, her pulse thrashing with the excitement and novelty of flirting again. She takes another sip of wine, realizing that Dutch courage might be exactly what this is.

"Putting the phone down for a second while I pour. Talk amongst yourselves," Castle jokes, making Kate grin again and then shake her head at his silliness.

She takes this quiet moment to readjust her pillows and tug the comforter up to chest level, revelling in the sensual caress of the warm cotton sheet brushing over her naked skin. She feels dangerous tonight: relaxed after her bath, loose with the slow burn of alcohol, both a little turned on and out of control talking to him like this; safe in the knowledge that she can wind things down as well as up whenever she likes.

His voice or something about the acoustics sounds different when he comes back on the line a minute or so later. "Okay, that's me back," he announces a little breathlessly. "Sorry about the break in transmission. Decided to follow your lead and get into bed. How naughty does this feel?" he asks gleefully, his voice wobbling as if he's still bouncing around on the mattress to get comfortable.

"Naughty?" asks Kate, the word coming out sounding rather vampish with the aid of the husky quality provided by her cold.

"Yeah, drinking wine in bed on a school night…naked."

"You're—"

"I said I would keep you company, didn't I? Seemed rude not to follow your lead."

"I never actually said I was naked," Kate argues, half-heartedly at best, while she fights a grin.

"You never said you weren't."

"True."

"You want me to move on? Talk about something a little…safer?"

"Why don't we talk about your mom?" challenges Kate.

Castle groans. "Yeah, that did the trick. Don't think I've had enough wine to get into that issue."

"Look, I'm not prying. Your mom is your business," she says, preparing to back off.

"Hmm, seems that way at times."

"Tricky situation?"

"Just a little. Her ex-husband ripped her off, left her practically penniless. I couldn't see her out on the street so she moved in with Alexis and me. To be honest, most of the time it works out pretty well for me. Alexis loves having her grandmother around and I have free babysitting on tap whenever I need it."

"Sounds like you guys have things well worked out."

"Except for the occasional privacy issue. My mother's pretty boundaryless when it comes to barging into rooms without knocking and offering advice when it hasn't been solicited."

"Ouch," winces Kate, imagining how that would drive her nuts since she values her own privacy so highly.

"Yeah. What about you? Your folks hands-on or hands-off?"

Kate's breath catches in her throat. She feels cornered, even though she should have seen this question coming a mile off. In fact, she opened up the topic, so it's only natural that he should ask. But she's hung up on protecting the image this man has of her so far. She's not ready to open up that messy box of issues in front of him. Not ready by a long way.

"Would you mind if we talked about something else?"

Castle seems surprised enough by this request that it takes him a second or two to answer. "You…you want to change the subject? That question makes you uncomfortable?"

"Dinner. We were going to make plans," she says brightly, throwing him a big old, distracting bone, she hopes.

Kate cringes at how this comes across and at the lengthy silence that follows her forced deflection.

"I just…can we save the whole family thing for another time?" she asks, feeling bad about not being as open with the writer as he is prepared to be with her. But then it was abundantly clear from the start that he's an over-sharer (something he evidently gets from his mother) while she likes to remain a closed book. Something of a mystery novel at that, which is highly ironic, given to whom she's speaking.

"Sure," he replies, though there's an evident strain in his voice, some hurt maybe at not being trusted with any details of her private life. But he's gracious and kind about it, letting her off the hook. "Sure, we can talk about that. Did you think about where you want to go?"

She hasn't, not really. She's thought about what it will mean to go out to dinner with him: how this will definitely constitute a date, whether she wants to call it that or not. She's also thought about some of the practicalities – do they meet at the restaurant or does he pick her up, what will she wear, small talk, hand holding, a kiss goodnight or come up for coffee. She's let her mind meander through all of these issues and possibilities, and yet she neglected to think of a venue.

"I…no, actually. Did you have someplace in mind?"

"Let's see. What kind of food do you like?"

"Pretty much anything. Except pizza."

There's another stunned silence.

"Rick?"

"You don't like pizza?" asks a confused and wounded voice.

"Did you just lose interest?" laughs Kate.

"I'm serious. You don't like pizza?" he repeats plaintively.

"And so am I. Is that a deal breaker?"

"I didn't know we were in negotiation." His tone is suddenly much more flirtatious.

"We're both in bed. Naked, apparently. We're drinking wine while having a late night phone conversation. Where I come from that kind of means we're…in negotiation, for want of a better expression."

"And where does little Kate Beckett come from? Or is that…out of bounds too?" He doesn't mean to be facetious. She knows that. But it does come across as a bit of a dig.

"I was born and raised in the city."

When she doesn't add anything more specific by way of neighborhood, street names or zip code, Castle takes it as a cue to move on.

"Right, so back to Pizzagate."

Kate lets her breath go, relieved he's got the message.

"I eat pizza, okay. In fact, I happen to love pizza. But in my job, grabbing a slice when you're out on patrol late at night tends to be one of the easiest food options."

"So when you're off duty you don't want to look at pizza?"

"Pretty much."

"No, I get it. That's fine. Plenty of other options we can work with."

"Yeah, as I said, I'll pretty much eat anything."

"Do you want me to choose somewhere? Keep it a surprise?"

Kate feels a little giddy, a thrill racing through her. It's been a long time since a man offered to do something this nice for her – plan a meal in a restaurant and make it a surprise.

"That would be…yes, that would be nice."

"You sure? You trust me with this?"

She laughs. "It's just dinner. How bad can it be?"

"You don't read Page Six much, do you?" chuckles Castle.

She slaps a hand to her forehead. "Oh, God. No, nothing too…too fancy or…or too showy," she amends, kicking herself for not tightening the brief before she gave him free reign.

"Wishing you hadn't given me carte blanche already?"

"I wasn't aware that I had."

"You said you trusted me, Kate."

His voice is so intimate; the words pitched low, right in her ear. She feels her body shiver and her nipples tighten beneath the softness of the sheets. Goosebumps rise on her skin despite the warmth of her bedroom. She lets one hand fall onto her bare thigh beneath the covers and begins idly caressing her skin with light strokes of her fingertips.

"Do you…trust me?" he asks once more, his tone laden with all sorts of new implications.

And suddenly the word trust has taken on a whole deeper meaning.

"I…" She swallows and then downs a mouthful of wine to chase away her nerves. "I trust you, yes," she whispers, breathily.

"Good. That's good," he barely breathes back. "Then it's settled. I'll come by and pick you up before dinner."

She squeezes her eyebrows together to concentrate. "Can you keep it…I mean can we…somewhere low key would be good. Casual," she adds, thinking about the limited range of clothing in her closet and the array of photos she has already seen of him squiring confident, elegant, immaculately dressed women, always a few years older than her, to fancy restaurants and charity galas over the years.

"Low key suits me too," he replies generously, his voice giving her confidence that everything will work out fine.

"Great," she sighs, succumbing to a yawn.

There's a pause after she yawns in which she hears him take a drink before he speaks again.

"You sound sleepy, Kate. Are you sleepy?" he asks, his deep, sexy baritone lulling her even closer to relaxed catatonia.

Her hand stills at the top of her thigh, near her hip. The pulse of heat between her legs is throbbing now with the effect of his seductive voice on her body: the pull and urge of the low, stirring, intimate register. She can feel the phone call coming to a natural conclusion already, but she's surprised to find that she really isn't ready for it to end just yet.

She manages to hum some non-committal sound, denying her sleepiness without actually denying it.

"I suppose we need to pick a date for this…date," Castle points out, breaking into her more libidinous thoughts.

"Yes. Right. My shift pattern changes to nights next week," she manages to pull it together enough to remember.

"Oh," murmurs Castle, his tone laden with doom and disappointment.

"But I have two days off in between. Would Saturday or Sunday be too soon for you?"

"Not at all," he replies, his voice brightening with happy enthusiasm. "Let me check with my mother and all being well, shall we aim for Saturday?"

Saturday night is a definite date night. There is no way around calling this anything but a date if they settle on a Saturday. But what the hell. There are definitely worse things in life, lots of worse things, than admitting you're going out on a date with Richard Castle.

"Saturday would be great," she agrees, succumbing to another lazy yawn that begs an accompanying stretch.

She sinks further back into her pillows, letting her legs fall apart, her left knee spread wide.

She traces her fingers down along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, lightly raking the surface with her short nails from knee to groin. It's a long time since she's been with anyone, and she misses the basic sensual, human pleasure of being touched. These late night calls with Rick are the closest she's come to spending time alone in bed with a man in months. The intimacy, the flirtation and the safety of her own bedroom are firing her imagination and her libido.

"Kate?"

She startles when she hears Castle whisper her name into her ear.

"Yes?" she gasps, stroking the dip below her hipbone with her edge of her thumb in a strumming motion.

"Are you…" He stops short of saying what they both know is on his mind.

She gives him a minute to decide whether to ask again or let the subject drop.

"I think," she whispers, breathing more heavily as she skims her hand across the flat of her abdomen, making her muscles jump.

"Yeah?" he whispers back, his own breath beginning to speed up.

"I think we're both…oh, God," she rasps, finally dragging her fingers through her own wet heat, surprised by how turned on she is with so little help or suggestion. "On the same page."

"You are so fucking hot," Castle blurts out, shocking them both.

There's a moment of heavy, awkward silence before Kate speaks, freeing them both from the burden of surprise.

"Say that again," she pants, coasting her fingers back and forth through her swollen, slick lips before finally pushing two fingers inside.

"Sexy. You're so sexy, Kate. I wish I could see you right now…I wish...I wish I could touch you…I—"

"Oh, jeez!" she shudders, so close to ecstasy already, gently rocking her pelvis against her own hand.

"That's it. Good girl. Come on, that's it. Touch yourself for me, Kate," he urges, cheering her on.

Suddenly their phone call has turned into phone sex before she knows what's happening. Dinner on Saturday won't be awkward at all after tonight. No siree. She needs to ensure she's not the only one with something to blush over...and fast.

"Only if you do too," she insists, letting her willful, wild side loose for what seems like the first time since college.

"Just putting my wine aside," he informs her, breaking off into silence for a heated moment while she idly circles her clitoris with the flat of her thumb, keeping her desire in check until he can catch up with her.

"Okay, I'm here," he tells her, his voice vibrating with the thrill of his own excitement.

"Are you hard?" asks Kate, withdrawing her own fingers from inside her and lazily stroking them between her legs once more, building up the friction pass by pass.

"Rock hard," he confirms, awaiting her instructions.

She fights a giggle, because of course Richard Castle would have to say he was rock hard. A simple yes would be too mundane, too succinct and by no means colorful enough.

"Okay, let's do it together."

"You want me to touch myself?" he pushes, looking for more detailed instructions from her.

"Yes," breathes Kate, speeding up her own movements.

"Are you close?" he asks, and she can already hear the rhythmic slap of his hand against his own thigh now, the raw significance behind the noise and the movement painting vivid, mental pictures that are making her even hornier.

"Yes," she pants, her chest heaving with the effort of holding back. "So close."

"I'd ask what you're wearing right now, but I think we already established that," he jokes, following the words with a guttural grunt that tells her he's not too far behind her. "Tell me anyway."

"Nothing. I'm wearing nothing. I've got my legs spread wide across the bed, my nipples are…so hard, and now I'm sliding two fingers deep insi—"

"Holy shit, Kate!" exclaims Castle, before the line appears to go dead.

When she hears the suppressed groan as he comes just seconds later, it tips her over the edge in rapid pursuit. Her body clenches around her hand, muscles winking and throbbing against her slippery fingers as they spasm through her protracted release.

She's lying in an exhausted, sated, heavy-breathing heap when she finally hears him clear his throat down the phone.

"Well, I wasn't expecting to do that tonight."

Kate laughs, just the happy side of mortified.

"At least not with you," he qualifies, making her blush, though why she's blushing after they just masturbated for one another is anyone's guess.

"You okay?" he asks, when Kate doesn't say anything.

"Yeah. You?" she replies reflexively, while smiling shyly into the phone.

"Never better…once my heart rate slows back down."

Kate hums in pleasure as she trails her fingers one last time through her over-sensitive folds, relishing the dying shivers of her orgasm as she stretches her body against the sheets, arching her spine up off the mattress.

"They say sex is good for the immune system. Your cold should be cleared up in no time."

"In time for Saturday night, I hope," she adds boldly, almost laughing out loud when she hears Castle gulp on the other end.

"So…this was—"

"Unusual for me," Kate fills in while Castle blunders around for something to say.

"Yeah? You mean you don't usually have phone sex with a guy you just arrested and haven't even been on a date with yet?"

They both dissolve into a fit of nervous, slightly self-conscious giggles at this succinct summation of their situation.

"Definitely a first," Kate agrees, while Castle wonders if there's any way he can persuade this girl to be his last.

He's falling for her – for the intelligent lightness that he can see on the surface and for the painful darkness he knows she's desperately trying to keep hidden from him. Normally a mystery like this would drive him nuts until he could either solve it or walk away. But somehow with her he finds he doesn't mind. He's found the patience from somewhere to wait her out, because as sappy as it sounds, he thinks she's worth it; she's more than worth his time.

"You think you could sleep now?" he asks her, sounding as if he just rolled over in bed from the whisper of the sheets across his skin, maybe the scruff on his jaw brushing the pillowcase, Kate imagines.

"You want to tell me a bedtime story?" she teases, in for a nickel.

"You want me to?" He sounds surprised, and she can hear him grin at the idea.

"Once upon a time…go on," she urges gently.

"Okay, there was a beautiful cop named Kate. But Kate ate so much pizza that one day—"

She starts to giggle. "No, stop. Something different. Something…less real."

"You want less real? Hmm. Okay, how about this. Once upon a time, there was a guy called Rick. Now Rick was a ruggedly handsome chap. But he was also rather sad and lonely, maybe even a little depressed."

"Still too real," Kate interjects, rolling her eyes.

"Still too real?" repeats Castle, sniggering down the line.

"Come on. You're the fiction writer, tell me a story," she insists.

Castle clears his throat. "A man and a woman planned on going on a date. This was their first date ever, so it was kind of important. The man picked the restaurant, then he bought some pretty flowers and he showed up at the woman's apartment just a little early to pick her up. When the lady opened the door, the man gasped at the sight before him. There, in all her glory, stood the tallest, willowiest, most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. They never actually made it to dinner, but they did live happily ever after. The end."

Kate sighs. "That's sweet. But also kind of lame."

"Why is it lame?"

"The ending was too...predictable," she risks, wondering if he's already anticipating a happy ending for them.

"Predictable, huh? You don't like happy endings?"

"I like to be surprised."

"So…use your imagination. After tonight's little escapade, I know you have one."

Kate covers her face with her hand. "Shut up. I don't think we should talk about that."

"What, not ever?"

"Not now and definitely not at dinner either."

"What will we talk about then?"

"Your mother. I don't care," laughs Kate. "Just not that," she repeats, burying her face in a pillow.

"Okay. Promise I'll be good. Show up at your door like the anonymous, nameless, faceless gentleman in my lame bedtime story. Will that be okay with you?"

"No flowers," mutters Kate, shaking her head.

"Is this another condition? Like nowhere fancy or…what was it? Showy?"

"Yes. It's a rule."

"You're getting silly now. I think we need to sleep."

"Are you sending me to bed for being naughty?"

"I think it's a little late for that. You sent yourself to bed and then lured me after you."

"I lured you? I lured you?" Kate laughs sleepily. "Did you go against your will?"

"Actually, it was a pleasure being lured by you, Officer Beckett. But then being arrested by you turned out to be a pleasure too, so…"

"Saturday is two days away. Think you can stay out of trouble until then?" she asks, wondering how slowly the next two days will pass.

"Promise I'll try."

The conversation slows, and they both have to fight the pull of sleep to keep talking.

"So…you'll let me know what time you're going to pick me up?"

"How about I text you tomorrow once I make a reservation?"

"Great. You already know where I live. And how is that exactly? I forgot to ask."

"I know a guy."

"Oh, God. Please tell me the Mayor doesn't know my home address."

Castle laughs in surprise. "I'm sure the Mayor could find out your address if he wanted to, but no. I used one of my…other sources."

"Your other sources? Like a C.I.?"

"Please don't make me explain any more. It sounds kinda creepy when you make me say it out loud."

"It is kind of creepy."

"I don't know your exact apartment number, if that helps any."

"It's on my mailbox. You know, the mailbox you tied a bunch of balloons to. And it's also on my front door. The front door you left a bouquet of freesias outside."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

"I haven't been inside, if that's any consolation."

"Well, play your cards right and maybe…" Kate chews her lip, her breath held, teetering as if she's about to take make her first solo parachute jump.

"Maybe?" probes Castle.

"Maybe we can do something to remedy that."

He's so warm and sincere when he responds, removing any anxiety she might have had that he was trying to push her. "I would really like that, Kate. But no pressure, okay? I know how much you value your privacy. So…let's just take things one step at a time."

"Okay. We can do that."

"Right, well, much as I don't want tonight to end, I have a six-year-old to get to school in the morning, and you have work, so…"

"We should say goodnight," Kate agrees, feeling her heart sink.

"I had a really great time today. First the coffee shop and then…yeah," he breaks off, sounding amused and a little self-conscious.

"Yeah, that," agrees Kate, laughing quietly.

"I hope you had a good time too." He sounds a little unsure, which is untypical of him.

"I really did. Best first time with a face mask ever."

"Yeah, let's blame it on the sexy green goo. Not the wine. No way was the wine responsible."

"I'm…you're easy to talk to. I've missed this," she admits, giving away more than she ever intended to this early on.

"What have you missed?" Castle probes, his question asked with a level of compassion she would never have believed him capable of when she first met him.

"This. Just...talking, hanging out, chatting about nothing important, laughing. And the sex didn't hurt either."

"Sex never hurts. Actually, if you're doing it wrong that's not quite true, but—"

"Rick!" she groans, cringing.

"Sorry. Got a little carried away there. Look, I get your point. I miss it too. It's been a long time for me as well, if we're laying our souls bare."

"That's not what Page Six says." She's revealing more and more of herself than she could ever have imagined tonight.

"Don't believe everything you read in the papers, Kate. Since Meredith left I've been…while not exactly a monk, pretty damn close."

He wants to ask what her excuse is, but he knows she won't tell him yet, so he leaves that question for another day.

"That's sad. We're both kind of sad, don't you think?"

"As long as we can be sad together I don't mind."

"Me neither."

"Glad that's settled. Now…time to sleep, young lady."

"Text me tomorrow?"

"Promise. Until tomorrow, Miss Beckett."

"Sweet dreams, Mr. Castle."

"Count on it. You too."

And with that the call ends, leaving them both in vastly different places than when it began just an hour and a half ago.

TBC...

Note: I did warn you this AU was like speed-dating so... :)