This is almost entirely Polly Lynn's fault.

Edits by my shiny, awesome Sparklemouse.

Chapter 49: 2x14, The Third Man

Though claiming to be single…

"Detective Beckett is not going to love this."

His heart pounds in his chest. Alexis is right. Beckett is really, really not going to love it.

Because –

But they don't ever talk about it. Ever.

It never happened.

"So are you – the detective girlfriend?"

Kate freezes. She feels Castle go totally still beside her, and she has this horrible, sinking feeling. No. No way. No one knows. About that thing that didn't happen.

How did this even –

When she sees the article, she realizes the real reason he's been so squirrelly today.

If he said one word -

"What did you tell them?"

"Nothing! Why would I do that? Do you have any idea what this does to my reputation?"

"Your reputation? What about my reputation?" She is going to kill him. She's going to go to jail because she's going to murder him right here.

"Beckett – it's not so b-"

"Don't. Just don't."

Her head is spinning. Rumored to be romantically involved. It's not a direct statement. But it's there.

It was two weeks ago and she can't stop thinking about it.

"We hooked up, Kate."

She freezes.

"Castle – "

"You can't pretend it never happened. We got drunk and we slept together. I'm sick of ignoring it."

She swallows hard. He's staring at her with those eyes, those big blue eyes of his, and she hates him because he looks so delicious in that striped blazer. And even though she's worked so hard to forget it, to forget the way he traced her naked skin with his clever tongue, she takes one look at him and it all comes rushing back. The heady shiver as he slipped her clothes off. The weight of his body pressing her into the mattress.

It was –

"The article's just speculation. They don't know." He pauses for a second. "No one knows."

"Good."

She says it reflexively, not thinking, and she feels a pang as she sees how his face crumples. "Castle – I didn't mean –"

"This isn't about the newspaper."

"Castle –"

"Why are you so determined to deny it, Kate?" His mouth twitches in a mirthless smile. "Was it so terrible?"

"No."

The word slips out before she can stop it. It wasn't terrible. It was amazing. It was stupid, drunk sex and it was earth-shattering and toe-curling and left her sated and glowing and sore in all the right places.

But she woke up in his bed at four, sober and panicked, and she managed to slip out from his arms without waking him. She went straight back to her apartment and showered, trying to wash it all off, but the hot water just made the marks on her thighs darker, and she spent her day off ignoring her phone.

And now she's staring into his pleading eyes thinking It was a mistake, but there's a voice in the back of her head whispering No, the mistake was how you reacted to it.

"Castle." She takes a deep breath, curling her fingers around the table's edge. "It – wasn't – I'm sorry we haven't really – talked."

They didn't talk much that night, either. Not after they hit that slender, fragile line between the fourth glass of red wine in his empty loft and the look he gave her, the smoldering, hungry look that made her shiver.

She's not entirely sure who actually made the first move, but by the time they made it off the couch, his tongue was in her mouth and her legs were wrapped around his waist. She'd kicked her shoes off after her second glass, so she dug her heels into his backside, grinding into him frantically as he stumbled into his bedroom and kicked the door shut behind them.

"We're talking now," he offers quietly.

"Yeah."

It goes silent, because she's relatively sure he's waiting for her to go first but she can't physically force out a sentence that starts with That night we slept together.

But the silence stretches on, long and deafening and agonizing and all she can think about is how loud she was that night, and finally Kate sucks in a breath and says something, anything, just to fill the void. "I'm sorry I ran out that morning."

He gives her a sheepish smile, and she exhales shakily when he answers.

"I missed you when I woke up."

His voice is so gentle, so soft and warm and intimate, it floods her body with awareness and heat. Two weeks, two weeks of pretending it didn't happen, and now all it takes is his bedroom voice and she's right back there, tangled in his sheets, gasping and begging under him while he whispers things he can't possibly mean.

She's leaning on the table between them, gripping the edge of it, her solid, tangible link to normalcy. But her veins are coursing with adrenaline. And it's strangely freeing to finally admit (if only privately) that she has, in fact, had sex with Richard Castle.

"Kate." He swallows, leaning towards her. "I know it wasn't - expected. And maybe it wasn't the world's best timing."

It wasn't. It was way, way too soon. She was still reeling from the shock of finding her mother's killer, only to lose him again. And Castle was safe. Turns out, he was too safe. And kind. And warm. And gentle and attractive and just perfect.

"I don't think -" she starts, but stops herself. "Castle. I'm not good at this."

"Would you go to dinner with me?"

She can't do that. She can't. She won't.

"Beckett. Kate. It's just food."

She can't.

She tells herself it's mid-case, she's not going to do anything stupid like sleep with him (again). But she still finds herself slipping into a clingy little red dress that's easy to get out of – not that that's at all what she's going for – and sliding on a strappy pair of heels that definitely say something dirty before hurrying out to meet him at Drago.

Dinner doesn't go well.

The food is tiny and too fancy. They're both trying too hard. The wine's great, but she barely tastes it because she keeps ducking out to take calls from Ryan and Esposito. On top of all that, she keeps getting the powerful itch to pull off that stupid red tie of his and tie him to her bed and just shut him up.

After her phone cuts out, she sighs and goes back to their table. "Castle, sorry to cut this short, but I can't get any reception."

He's gracious about it, stepping out with her, pushing in their chairs and heading to speak with the host. His hand lingers briefly on the small of her back, and she takes in a long breath because she's spent all evening wanting to rip that jacket right off him.

"I'm just going to use the bathroom before we go," she tells him as he thanks the host.

"That's fine."

He looks like he's just going to stay, and she grits her teeth, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Come with me, you idiot."

She's half-sure the host sees them leave the bathroom together. He seems to be smirking. Of course, Castle's not the most subtle man in the world. His clothes are fairly tidy, but his face is flushed and the dazed, sated expression in his eyes announces pretty clearly that he just got a bl -

She bites her lip. She was careful. She wiped her mouth. And brushed off her knees.

Neither one of them speaks until they're in the taxi, heading towards the pet store.

"Beckett." He clears his throat. "You don't - you don't think the guys could tell -"

"No."

It wasn't her fault, or his, that Ryan and Esposito called right as Castle got his hand up her skirt. It was maybe his fault that he spent the entire phone call making her squirm. With just two fingers. He had to keep finishing her sentences while she bit back noises and rolled her hips against him.

They managed to stay quiet. Until the phone call ended. Then she was...sort of quiet. And then he really wasn't quiet at all.

In retrospect, he seemed to enjoy the 'punishment' far too much.

The cab driver's ignoring them, but she leans over to whisper in his ear anyway. "Do not expect that to happen during future phone calls."

He twitches his eyebrow up at her, and fuck, even just that makes her seriously want to forget everything for just a few hours and drag him into her bed and just ride.

"Fine. Phone conversations will be strictly business."

"Yes."

He grins. And before she can stop him, he dives in for a kiss, brief and hot and drugging, his tongue tracing her lips teasingly.

He sits back, looking smug.

"And just for the record – I really like your tattoo."