In a parallel universe, Kate took the dog home first.

Thanks to Sandiane Carter for editing!

Chapter 48: 4x13, An Embarrassment of Bitches

This guy is a snuggler.

His door buzzes, and he opens it to find Royal sitting, looking up at him with alert ears, and Kate, sweaty and flushed.

Well. Not an unpleasant sight.

"Hi," she manages, breathing hard. He has to remind himself not to make a suggestive comment.

"Hi. You okay?" Castle's not the most athletic man, but even he doesn't puff that hard on the stairs. And Kate Beckett can run circles around him in stilettos.

"I took him for a run," she shrugs, wiping her forehead. "It's nice out."

Royal pads over to Castle, and he scratches behind the dog's ears. "Well, good. You're all primed and hungry for dinner."

"Dinner? No, Castle, I'm just here to drop off the dog."

"No, you have to stay for dinner."

"No."

"But I set a place for you." He even pulled out the nice plates, the ones with a tasteful pattern of earth tones around the edges.

"Castle. I just ran. I smell. I'm sweaty. I need to clean up."

"That's fine. Go shower. I'll have dinner ready when you're done."

She looks like she's trying to find a way to semi-graciously decline, so Castle fixes her with his most innocent face. Four years; he's learning how to wear her down. And normally it has a rather low success rate with her, but then Royal trots back over to her and licks her hand with an intensely adorable look. Castle can actually see the resolve drain from her, tension releasing in her shoulders, her whole posture changing as she runs a gentle hand over the dog's back. Puppy eyes. Real puppy eyes. They're unstoppable. Even Kate Beckett doesn't stand a chance, and she knows it.

"Fine. I'll stay."

"Thank you." He shoots her a giant smile that makes her roll her eyes. "You can use my bathroom. Towels and soap and everything are in there. And there's laundry folded on my bed, just grab anything that fits."

She disappears through his office. He concentrates on cooking. Not on the thought of the woman he loves naked in his shower. Not on the way the water is sluicing over her bare skin. And definitely not on the fact that she has to stand there naked in his bedroom again while she decides which of his clothes she's going to drape over her smooth bare skin, warm and glowing from the shower, beads of water streaming between –

Dammit.

He's tossing salad when he hears his door open and footsteps, and he looks up to find her padding in, barefoot, in his long-sleeved Gryffindor t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Both are far too big; even with the sleeves rolled up and the pants tied tight around her waist, she's swimming in them, her damp hair pulled back messily.

She's gorgeous.

Seeing him watching her, she folds her arms, a smile playing over her lips. "Figures you'd have a Harry Potter shirt."

He grins. It looks amazing on her. "I've always thought I might actually be more of a Ravenclaw, to be honest. You're more of a Gryffindor than I am."

"Good to know."

"It looks good on you."

She arches an eyebrow, shooting him a look that says I know you're thinking about me naked and I want to punish you for it. Well. He thinks that's what it says. "Castle. You said this was dinner, not a thin excuse to drag me into your home and force me into your nerdy clothes."

"Right. Yes. Just about done here."

As Royal nudges his feet helpfully, Castle busies himself serving food. She tries to help but he won't let her, forcing a wineglass into her hands and telling her, in no uncertain terms, to sit and let him wait on her. And he takes it as a tremendously good omen that she only slightly rolls her eyes, scratches Royal's ears and sips her wine.

He leans over her to set a dish down, and pauses just long enough to take a breath. The scent of his shampoo mixed with her wafts over him and he almost drops the fork he's holding because wow.

And in his clothes, hair damp from his shower, smelling like his soap, she belongs here.

When he stoops to set Royal's dish on the floor, she cranes her neck. "You're giving him steak?"

She sounds disbelieving. He doesn't understand the problem. "Why not? It's what we're having."

"He's a dog."

"Beckett." He covers the dog's ears. "He's right here. You're going to hurt his feelings."

"Oh, for crying out loud," she mutters into her wineglass.

After dinner, she helps him clear the table. She's reaching for a dish, leaning over a chair, when suddenly she stops. She winces. His blood pressure instantly goes up. "Something wrong?"

She frowns, running her fingers over her shoulder. "I'm not used to running with a dog. He tugged a little too hard. Kind of wrenched my shoulder. It's just sore."

"Here." Without thinking, he reaches, sets his hand on her shoulder.

"Castle?" She turns around, her eyes wide with alarm, and oh, that's right. They don't do this, do they?

"You forget I grew up with an actress. I've seen plenty of dance injuries. This can't be too different."

She still has that skittish look, like she's about to bolt. Which he finds amusing, seeing as Royal is calmly curled up on the floor.

"Relax, Kate. Let me help."

She doesn't pull away, so he tentatively presses his fingers into her shoulder, feeling the tight muscle beneath the thin fabric of the shirt she's wearing. She lets out a long hiss. He immediately relaxes his touch. "Sorry."

"'Sokay."

"I can feel a knot here - oh, and here, and - well, your entire shoulder is made of knots, really." He tests the muscle, taut and toned under his fingers, but even through the shirt he can feel the tight spots speckled under her skin.

"Some of us have jobs, not weekly spa appointments," she retorts, but there's air in her voice, the edge in it gone. She's slowly relaxing into his touch. He's spent four long years learning the levels of tension in Kate Beckett, from I need a better lead on this case to Castle, I am going to shoot you between the eyes if you don't shut up (though that last one was more common during their earliest cases), and this isn't - it's not -

Castle holds his breath but she still doesn't move away from his touch. The delicate column of her neck is right there, exquisite, pale, and he wants so badly to kiss her. He's having trouble coming up with reasons he shouldn't.

He's still not sure what to do when suddenly she's kissing him.

Oh.

Her arms curl around his neck and she sort of sinks into him, the long line of her body in his too-big, dorky clothes, and then her tongue swipes briefly over his bottom lip and -

squeak squeak

Kate jerks away from him, looking down in dazed embarrassment to discover Royal, blithely proffering her a squeaky toy in his mouth. Damn it.

"Royal. You're killing me here," Castle mumbles, but Kate's laughing, scratching the dog's ears.

"What is that?"

"Uh. It's Mr. Squeaky."

Her lips twitch upwards in a little smile, and as adorable as she always is when she's teasing him, right now he's just staring at her mouth because he absolutely needs to kiss it again.

But she's kneeling down to pet the dog, who licks her face happily as she takes Mr. Squeaky and tosses it across the room. Royal yips and scrambles to chase it.

She stands and meets his eyes again, and there's a long moment, a lull, and he's filled with the strangest, lightest sense of hope. Because she's blushing, but she's not looking away.

God, he's in love with her.

He slips his arm around her waist and tugs her into him again, taking a long breath of the scent of her hair before whispering into her ear. "I'm not going to kiss you."

She tenses. "What?"

"The dog licked you."

She swats him in the chest for that, stepping back with a mock-glare. "Really?"

"I'm anti-germ, Kate. I hold to my principles. It's why you l- like me."

He almost said the wrong word there, the one he never says aloud, and he can see that she heard it. But she just bites her lip and shrugs. "Fine. I can shower again."

"Shower? I mean. It's just on your face, right - "

She shuts him up with the flat of her hand over his mouth.

"And I could use some help this time, Castle."