Since we're on a hospital theme, allow me to take a moment to address a… health issue. In my mind, Castle and Beckett are both healthy, they are engaged in romantic activities only with each other, and Beckett is on the pill. Therefore, I don't go into the whole putting on a condom bit. HOWEVER – all you kiddies out there reading this (what, you think we don't know about you?) better strap on. It's just not worth the risk. Got it? Good.
"Are you certain that you can't remember anything else, Mr. Simmons?" Beckett asked, leaning forward in her chair.
The man in the hospital bed, one Mr. Gerard Simmons, rising Wall Street banker and latest (attempted) murder victim of the mysterious person killing his business partners, looked a little lost for a second. Then he shook his head. "No, I'm sorry Detective; I didn't see anything. The man came up from behind."
Beckett nodded. "It's all right, Mr. Simmons. We'll catch this man; and until we do, you're in the safest place possible." She smiled reassuringly. "Why don't you get some rest? It's been a long, trying day. We'll call you if we have any more questions or if there are any developments."
Both the detective and the writer sitting by her side stood and respectfully left the room. Castle began to talk as soon as they were safely out in the hallway, however.
"Do you think he could have done it to himself? You know – pretended to be a victim to clear himself of suspicion. Like the fairytale murder, or The Murder of Roger Ackroyd."
"Castle, he was strangled from behind; the bruising on his neck and fingers from when he tried to pull the rope off are both testament to that. You can't fake bruising. Besides; who would willingly crawl through bits of broken glass or fall down a set of stairs?" Beckett turned a corner, heading towards the elevators.
"It was worth a shot." Castle shrugged. He frowned when he saw where his girlfriend was headed. "Um, Beckett? We're not headed straight back to the precinct, are we?"
Beckett stopped and glanced back at him. "Why wouldn't we?" She asked.
"Well, it's just that… you know… we haven't… and Gates has been watching us like a hawk lately, and so…" Castle paused when he saw the look on her face.
"Look, Rick, just because we haven't had a chance in a week does not mean we skip out on work. We have a murder to catch."
"I'm not saying that we don't do that! I'm just saying that we go home, have a glass of wine, re-test the springs on our bed, and head into the precinct in the morning!"
"Crime waits for no man, Castle, no matter how horny he is."
Castle scoffed, but Beckett resumed walking.
"Okay, fine; we can scratch the wine and all."
Beckett kept walking, but Castle kept after her. After the fifty-third attempt, Beckett stopped so suddenly that Castle bumped into her. She turned, fixing him with her deadliest 'don't-screw-this-up' glare.
"You're not going to lay off of me, are you?"
Sheepishly, Castle shook his head.
"Fortunately for you, Castle, it's been a week for me as well, and we're not going to get another chance at this until we crack this case, so…" Beckett glanced around. "One quickie. One. Then we go."
Castle grabbed her arm, yanking her back down the hallway towards a medical supply closet he'd spied. Beckett dug in her heels.
"What the hell? Castle, we're not going to fit in there!"
"Au contraire, my reluctant paramour." Castle replied, throwing open the door and gesturing inside. "You have clearly never had a daughter who interned at a hospital."
Every hospital needs to be prepared for any kind of physical issue, from viruses to bloody noses; and even in a place that's as well run as a hospital in the center of a bustling metropolis, crazy things do happen – such as a mother giving birth in the elevator or a zombie outbreak. And because of the sheer number of patients and the possible ailments that might occur no matter what area they're in, each level and section of the hospital needs plenty of supplies nearby and ready to go.
In other words, hospital supply closets are enormous.
Beckett stared at the shiny metal racks filled with everything from toilet paper to antibacterial spray. She stepped in slowly, still gazing around. Castle followed, closing the door behind them. Like ninety percent of all hospital doors, this one could only be locked with a key, and didn't have one of those simple turning locks on the inside (thanks to research on a Derrick Storm novel, he knew this was both because of administration and to prevent patients from meddling), so they would have to chance it. The wing they were currently in wasn't very full, however, and there were other closets closer to where the actual patients were staying, so he was pretty sure they wouldn't be disturbed.
He turned back to Beckett, only to find her already stripped and looking at him impatiently. "Wow."
She smirked at him. "I said a quickie, Castle. Now strip."
He grinned. "I love it when you give orders."
"Now if only you would follow them." She quipped, helping him with his shirt.
"Well maybe if–" Castle's brilliant retort was cut off by Beckett as she kissed him; the most effective way of shutting him up that she knew.
Tugging and pulling, they managed to end up on the tile floor. It was surprisingly cold, making Beckett squeal and arch her back as she lay down on it. Castle chuckled until she flipped him, and it was his turn to make shocked noises at the cold.
"Geez, is this stuff made of ice?" He demanded, rolling her over so that he was on top again.
"Funny, that's kind of what I said about your–"
Castle nipped at her jaw, making her yelp. "You were saying?" He asked innocently.
Beckett glared at him, but nevertheless hooked her legs around him. "C'mon, Writer Boy; show me what you've got." She teased.
Castle liked to brag… er… make known, his staying powers, but he also responded well to Beckett's good-natured goading, and so cut the chitchat and got down to business. Beckett made a noise of approval as he slid into her, tipping her head back slightly.
"And why are these tiles such a nasty green puke color?"
"Castle!" She should have known that he'd be able to babble even while in the middle of sex, the ridiculous man.
He had never stopped moving during his observations on the hospital's interior decorating, but picked up the pace at the sound of her voice. They didn't talk after that, but the tiny room was far from silent as low grunts, pants, and gasps filled the stuffy air.
Under normal circumstances, neither would have been proud at the rate of which they reached climax, but it had been a week – a week filled with traipsing up and down NYC and running into dead end after dead end in this stressful case – and they were both tightly wound, sexually and otherwise, because of it.
Castle could sense Beckett approaching the edge, and judging by the cadence of her breaths, it was going to be a loud one. He felt her inner walls clench around him and he shot out his hand to cover her mouth. Sure enough, Beckett gave out a muffled shout, her inner walls rippling around him and pulling his orgasm out of him. His body shuddered and he had to work to keep his arms from giving out and landing on top of her.
"That… quick enough… for you?" He asked, breathing hard.
Beckett lightly hit him, but she was laughing, her chest heaving like she'd finished a 5K.
"Hey; at least there's a lot of stuff here we can use to clean up." He pointed out, glancing up at all the supplies.
"Good, because the sweat's made my back stick to this damn tile."
Castle laughed, standing up and helping Beckett to her feet. They cleaned up and quickly disposed of the napkins and other supplies, keeping their fingers crossed that no one would notice. A quick peek outside revealed the hallway to be deserted, and they were able to sneak out and head back to the precinct.
They were just exiting the elevator at the 12th when the distinctive voice of Captain Iron Gates rang out.
"Detective! Since when has it taken you forty-five minutes to get here from a hospital that's five blocks away?"
"Shit." Beckett muttered.
Poor victim. Poor, poor, poor victim. *snicker* I thought up such a violent scenario for the guy. I'm quite evil, you see.
Oh! And for those of you not familiar with the works of brilliant mystery writer Agatha Christie, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd is one of her books and, like all of her work, is fantastic and mind-bending. Go read it as soon as you're finished reviewing this chapter. *sly wink*
