Companion to the "Stop and Stare" scene from the pilot. You know the one: it's the reason I legit get a little weepy now when I listen to that song. It's embarrassing.

To my sweet cartographical: we are fic soulmates.

Chapter 12: 1x01, Flowers For Your Grave

I'd be happy to let you spank me.

She hears someone clear his throat conspicuously, and when she turns around, she finds Castle, watching her expectantly. He wants her attention, apparently. What else is new? "Well. Guess this is it."

He shoots her his full-on puppydog eyes, something he's entirely too good at. "It doesn't have to be. We could, uh – go to dinner. Debrief each other."

She can't help but smile, because that's certainly a new meaning for the word 'debrief.' Or maybe just a very literal one. At least he's being fairly straightforward about it, though. "Why, Castle? So I can be another one of your conquests?"

He grins. "Or I could be one of yours."

There's a moment where she thinks about it. Sees her clothes crumpled on his bedroom floor. Sees herself pinned to satin sheets, laughing as he finds her ticklish spots, winding her legs around his waist. Arching into him. Crying out in release. Lying beside him, sweaty and gasping. (Oh, he's good in bed. She doesn't doubt it. He could have her underneath him and begging.)

Slipping out his front door, trying to make sure his daughter doesn't hear.

A memory flickers through her mind – the crowded bookstore, the long line. The rush of giddy excitement; his hand brushes hers as she hands him the book. The pleasant smile. To Kate – Thanks for reading. Rick Castle. Probably the same inscription in every book he signed that day.

The same sex he's had with every woman who ever fell for that charm. He's probably been expecting it since he first met her. The writer who always knows the ending first. Who always gets what he wants. Who writes the stories the way he thinks they should go.

Not today.

He's spent this entire case getting under her skin, irritating her, flirting with her and provoking her. He thinks he's got a handle on her. He thinks he's in control.

Kate realizes that she knows exactly how to tip the situation in her favor, to win it once and for all: take charge.

Change the story.

"It was nice to meet you, Castle."

She politely offers her hand and he takes it, looking somewhat disappointed. "It's too bad. It would've been great."

The sex? Yeah. She knows he's right. But this is him taking control again, making sure she knows what she's missing. And she's decided: he doesn't get to do that. Not this time.

So she leans forward. He stoops, obviously thinking she's going to say something into his ear, but instead, she puts a palm to his cheek, tips his face toward hers, and kisses him.

She can feel him tense with shock. It melts quickly, though, his mouth softening, his body sinking gently into hers. She nips very softly at his top lip and feels his sudden intake of breath. He slides his tongue over her bottom lip, and even as the tingle of pleasure races up her spine, she knows it's time to end this. He only gets enough to make him want more. Enough to show him what he's missing.

(Besides, he's a good kisser. And she's not going to give him a chance to change her mind.)

So Kate pulls back, lets him go, forces herself to breathe slowly as she looks up at him. He just stares at her, mouth open, face frozen in shock. She bites her lip, grins. It's not his story anymore.

"You have no idea."

He may not have remembered her at that book signing. But he'll never forget her now.

She turns and walks away, glowing with satisfaction. Castle makes no move to follow; she doesn't hear footsteps. But she doesn't even bother looking back, just walks on, a smile on her face.

She knows he's watching.