If you are of age and interested, Cartographical and shimmeryshine and I just co-wrote the second chapter of Carto's story "Slippery When." You might check it out.
Cartographical, you are lovely.
Chapter 28: 2x11, The Fifth Bullet
Disapproving, judgmental…you're totally my work wife.
Castle stares, motionless, as Beckett stalks out of the bullpen, pulling her coffee-soaked shirt away from her skin.
Okay. Well. That didn't go how he planned it.
Once she's gone, he takes the now-mostly-empty cups to the break room and comes back out, but she's still not here.
The boys, at their desks, see him, and Ryan laughs. "Hey, nice work, butterfingers."
"Ha. Thanks." Castle scowls at Ryan, who just grins back.
Esposito looks up from his computer. "You picked a good day to dump coffee on her, bro."
"What?"
"Oh, come on, man. You just happen to pick the day she's wearing a white shirt?" Castle glares. Esposito raises his hands. "Just saying. Hell of a coincidence."
"Cut it out. It was an accident." Castle looks around. No sign of her. "Where'd she go?"
Ryan shrugs. "Said she was going to the locker room to clean up."
"Oh. Well – I have – " Castle reaches into his jacket and pulls out a little packet of wet wipes. "I always have them when I travel. Would these be a peace offering? Or do you think – "
"Dude. Go." Esposito nods. "She might not kill you. Might."
"But she's – "
Ryan scoffs. "Dude, it's a unisex locker room. We all keep a clean shirt in there. Just go."
Well, maybe he's right.
And the boys wouldn't lie, right?
He's never been in the locker room before, though he's walked past it. It's upstairs, near one of the older storage rooms, and the hallway's deserted. Hmm.
Well, Ryan said it was unisex; there's nothing on the door to indicate otherwise. So he opens the door and steps inside.
Beckett's alone in the locker room.
And she's not wearing a shirt.
Holy –
"Oh – my God – "
She gasps, whirling around, clutching a clean shirt to her chest. "Castle! Get out!"
It's too late, because he's already seen her. Already seen what she's wearing under her shirt. And there is no possible way in a million billion trillion years he is ever, ever going to forget that Kate Beckett wears black lace under her clothes. Coy, sexy, demure black lace that hugs her body, teasing him with just enough of the swell of her breasts to drive him crazy, and that little white bow between them, taunting him, so perfect against her smooth, pale skin, and he just wants so badly –
"Castle!"
He jolts back to reality to discover that he's still gaping at her chest and she's looking more homicidal by the second.
"Did you do this on purpose?" she hisses, her eyes flashing danger and death and shit she is so hot when she's angry and almost topless. "Because I swear, if you dumped coffee on me just to get a chance to – "
"No! No, I swear – I just – I came to see if – " Shit, he had a reason for coming here, he's sure, he must have, he just – he – it –
- she's not wearing a shirt.
"Castle, you have about two seconds before I shoot you."
"What?" He looks back up at her face again.
…maybe he should stop looking at her chest.
"Get out of here!" She's scowling. He should be scared. Normally he would be. But right now he is way too turned on to care.
So he goes with his default response to everything: push her just a little bit more.
"What, are you uncomfortable?"
Her eyes widen – she apparently wasn't expecting him to risk taunting her, which is foolish of her because why on earth would he pass up a chance to make her chest heave when she's basically topless? – but then she goes back to glaring. "Stop staring at me, Castle."
"That's not underwear you wear if you don't want someone to see it." It's the kind of underwear designed to end up on a bedroom floor. It's what a woman wears to drive a man crazy. To make him take it off her with his teeth. To –
Stop. Stop right now.
Her eyes narrow. "Don't flatter yourself."
"Then why haven't you put your shirt on yet?"
"You don't scare me."
"I don't scare you? Fine." If she's not embarrassed, then he can say whatever he wants to. "You're hot. You are so smoking hot right now."
Her eyes get wide. Her cheeks are pink. What? Like you didn't know, Beckett?
Her mouth falls open, but she says nothing. So he barrels on. It's exhilarating, being able to say what he really thinks. "I don't think you're angry at me. I think you like the way I'm looking at you."
"You son of a – "
"You're wearing black lace."
"Get out of here, Castle."
"I don't think you mean that."
"I do."
"Make me." He still has no idea why he came here in the first place, but hell if he's leaving now. "You want me to leave, you make me go, Beckett."
Dangerous. Oh, Kate. Dangerous.
He's not leaving.
She swallows, her heart hammering in her chest.
He's coming closer.
The shirt in her hands hits the floor and she barely notices. Her skin is burning. He's serious. And that look in his eyes. Hungry.
"Castle – " She tries for authoritative. Her voice comes out husky. Desire flickers over his face, rough and dangerous and there's no one else here to stop them –
She takes an instinctive step back. Her body hits her locker and he's right there, too close, and he smells so good and she just can't look away and the heat of his body is warming her skin. She licks her lips nervously, sees his glance immediately flick down to her mouth, linger there. A shiver of desire runs through her, shimmering under her skin.
"Kate."
Her heart is racing, her face hot, her breath shallow. Oh, that voice.
"Kate – "
She just –
His fingers trace the line of her arm, sending sparks of heat through her bare skin, and the shock is so immediate, so visceral, so wrong, she just can't, just –
Before she can think about it, she's grabbing his face and pulling him down and then she's kissing him and –
- and he's kissing her back.
He doesn't hesitate. His mouth is rough, demanding, his tongue aggressive against hers. His hands slide up the curve of her spine, and he swallows the soft moan she lets out. Her hands are clutching desperately at his shoulders, and then he's shoving her back against the locker and his knee is sliding between her legs and she can't stop herself from sinking down onto him, groaning into his kiss, her body arching into his, and it's so hot and it's so fast and so bad but so good and she's frantically trying to get his shirt off and he's pulling her hips roughly against him and oh, oh right there, like that oh yes –
"Oh, what the hell – "
She gasps, whirls around to find Esposito standing in the doorway, staring at them, his jaw slack. Oh, shit. Shit.
"Esposito – " Castle's hands are still on her. Dammit. She tries to pull away.
"Oh, my God, are you kidding me?" Esposito grimaces. "Come on! Nasty! We all use this locker room."
"We're not – "
"Yeah. Whatever." He scowls. "I mean, seriously, you couldn't wait till you got off work?"
"It's not like that!" Oh, jeez. No. He can't seriously think – "It's not what you think. We're not – we're not together. Not like that."
Esposito looks unimpressed. "Sorry, Beckett. Maybe you could put your shirt on and then try saying that again?"
Shit.
She hastily grabs her clean shirt from the floor, tugs it over her head and looks up to find Esposito smirking and Castle looking like he has no idea what to do.
"Esposito, do you have a point coming here?"
"Besides stopping you from making little precinct babies?"
"Esposito." She musters up enough ice in her tone that he looks a little chastened. A little. Not enough.
Castle clears his throat. "This is your fault. You guys told me to come in here."
"What we told you was that it's a unisex locker room. I didn't realize I'd have to explain that you have to knock," Esposito shoots back. "Of course, if you just wanted to get some, I guess – "
"Esposito!" She glares at him. Dammit, dammit, this is bad.
"You know what? I don't want to know. I'm gonna head back downstairs. Come find me when you're done doing…whatever it is you're doing." He leaves with a shudder, muttering something that sounds vaguely like gross and Mom and Dad and serious therapy.
For a moment after he leaves, she and Castle just stare. She has no idea what to say. No idea. There's no protocol (at least that she knows) for how to address Rick Castle after he's soaked you with coffee, walked in on you changing, and then –
- and then you made out with him like a horny teenager.
Her face gets hot.
"Um."
Castle sounds awkward. She can sympathize. But this is okay; they can deal with this; she just needs to approach it cautiously, figure out how to proceed. "Castle – "
"That really just happened."
She looks back at him, startled. "What?"
"You know what? Screw it." Castle shrugs. "He saw it. We just kissed. A lot."
So much for approaching it cautiously.
(But oh God the heat from his hands is still burning on her skin, still seared into her body, and she wants so badly to just pull him into one of the showers and turn on the water to hide the noise but they shouldn't but oh – )
"Kate, do you want to go to dinner with me after we finish this case?"
She gapes.
But…like he said. Esposito knows. No point in hiding now, right?
"Uh – I – I guess so." Is he serious?
"Good."
He leans in and kisses her, brief, easy, like he does it every day.
(Like he thinks about it every day.)
"Okay. Why don't you finish up, and I'll see you back downstairs."
Castle leaves, whistling, hands in his pockets. She stares at her locker, tries to remember how to lock it again, tries to force down the overwhelming wave of pure want that's drowning her.
Did she just – ?
"Kate?"
She turns, heart pounding, to find Castle leaning back in the room.
"About our date."
Date. Holy –
She swallows. "Yeah?"
"Don't worry about taking advantage of me."
"What?"
"We've been to dinner before this," he grins. "This is probably at least the third date."
Heat floods her face. She bites her lip. Oh. Really?
In that case –
"So what kind of underwear should I wear then, Castle?"
A smile curls over his face, his eyes downright evil.
"Anything that'll look good on the bedroom floor."
He gets to her place right on time the next night.
She opens the door.
They miss their reservation.