Disclaimer: I don't own Castle, but Miranda is mine.

Prompt #12: Fidget - Riding a desk made her an anal-retentive OCD mad woman.

Words: 627

Castle prided himself on being a man of action. Even sitting at a desk, he could actively solve mysteries with the aid of his trusty laptop and his fake murder board. But he wasn't without his moments of patience, level-headedness, and serenity. When he pondered something, he could remain still as a statue for hours staring at nothing as his thoughts went flying in different directions.

Unfortunately, Beckett did not have his contained demeanor.

Confined to a desk duty due to a pair of cracked ribs, his feisty partner was jittery with nerves, caffiene, and copious amounts of boredom. Her fingers drummed like a drumline competition as she sat at her desk with nothing to do. All her backlog of paperwork was caught up, every current lead exhausted, and still Beckett could not calm down and relax.

She moved her little elephants into different lines, formations, and all around her desk. She sorted her pens by color and type. She shuffled and re-shuffled her paperwork until not a sheet was out of place. She fiddled with her blotter, her notepad, her paperweights, her coffee cup, and other tiny things that littered her desk, all with a very serious, very focused expression on her face. Castle was about ready to pin her hands down.

After two passes, Miranda took pity on him and managed to convince Gates that Castle was needed to check out another lead. The writer waited until they were safely outside the precinct before showering Miranda with thanks.

"But I'm actually a little surprised," she admitted as they drove towards the crime scene. "Beckett's always so collected, it's odd to see her fussing over little things like those elephants she has."

"Beckett's not the type to relish being a desk jockey," Castle replied, unconsciously slipping into slang he'd heard around the office. "On the streets is where she feels like she's doing the most good. If she's not there, at least she's working the case. She's just bored now, and it's driving her up the wall."

Miranda laughed a little. "What, can't you just annoy her and - "

"I try and catch her attention again, she's sworn to shoot me in the foot and kick me in the groin. Hard."

"Ouch. Grumpy. What did you do?"

"Why does everyone - "

"It saves time."

"...Fair enough." Castle pondered as they pulled up to the crime scene and ducked under the tape. "Nope, nothing comes to mind. I've been good, getting her coffee and - "

"And you're still alive?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've been getting her coffee all day?"

"She kept saying she needed more!"

"Castle, some women need chocolate to be happy. Beckett, like most cops, needs caffiene to function like a decent human being." Miranda shook her head in disbelief. "Give a desk jockey lots of caffiene and no way to work it off, they turn twitchy as tweakers. How can you not know this after four years working with cops?"

He held up his hands in defense. "She's never ridden a desk this long!"

"Geez Castle, no wonder she's so wound up." Heaving a loud sigh, Miranda stepped in front of him and entered the scene first. "We'll talk later. Right now let's see if we can find out how this blaze started up."

He fell in step behind the arson detective. "Just to clarify, exactly how bad of a meltdown from Beckett will I be expecting?"

Miranda glanced back at him. "On a scale of one to Chernobyl?"

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