Set mid-episode, starting with the scene in which Beckett interrogates Scoville, the drug dealer.

Chapter 56: 1x3, Hedge Fund Homeboys

[silent yelping]

"Next time, put it on speaker phone."

Castle is transfixed.

There's a cadence to the way she speaks. It's relaxed, at ease, with a biting, clipped edge of wit. She's almost lazily trapping this idiot in his own words.

It's the most bizarrely attractive thing he's ever witnessed, and he's not sure why.

This is what sets her apart, isn't it? Other women defer to him as the witty one, the clever one. The man with the words and the brain to put them together. But Kate Beckett doesn't flinch; she uses his own medium without hesitation, by turns teasing and serious, until he's captivated. And watching her turn it on someone else is equally captivating.

He snaps out of his train of thought - it was largely centered around her mouth - when she leans into the observation room, doing a quick double-take when she sees him standing there next to the captain. "Ah. Sir. You heard everything?"

"I did. Nice work." Montgomery nods. "I'll go check in with Ryan and Esposito. Well done, Detective."

He ducks out, leaving Castle and Beckett looking at each other. She's clearly not sure what to make of him. "You watched, too?"

"Yeah. It was awesome."

She huffs a sarcastic laugh, but too late, realizes he's not pretending. "Really? Just - a normal interrogation?"

"Seriously. That was amazing. It was like you weren't even trying. You got him to - to wrap himself up and put a bow on himself. That was so, so cool."

She quirks an eyebrow up, and he probably shouldn't find it hot, because it's adorable, but somehow it's still incredibly hot. "Um. Thanks?"

"I'm not trying to be ironic. That was the coolest interrogation I've ever watched."

She has that suspicious look on her face, the adorable one that he's come to really enjoy. But it looks like she's actually believing - and it's true - that he was very, very impressed with just how well she does her job. "Well. Glad I could help."

"I have a lot more questions about interrogation."

"I'll bet you do."

"Can I take you to dinner? I can take notes, and you can tell me about all the stupid criminals you've taken down with your brains."

"Sure." The skeptical look is back. "Because that's what you're interested in. A detective using her brain, not trying to trick someone by taking off her clothes, right?"

"Honestly? That didn't even occur to me." As transparent as he's been before this, he really did just spend fifteen minutes mesmerized by the allure of a brilliant, gorgeous woman in a plain shirt and sensible slacks, using nothing but wit to snare today's brand of criminal.

Beckett's now sporting an exasperated expression, and he crosses his fingers that it's annoyance at her inability to find a reason to turn him down. He's not averse to he just wouldn't go away being the story she'll tell their children in twenty years.

"A working dinner?"

He nods.

"All right."

"Great." He pauses. She probably doesn't want to be wooed at some elegant restaurant. Especially at this thinly-veiled-as-work dinner that he probably shouldn't be as excited about as he is. "Um. Where do you want to go?"

She takes him to the kind of place he doesn't go nearly often enough. Remy's is a quirky little place. He likes it immediately. The walls are lined with vintage travel posters, fun, retro paintings of Spain and France and Italy and San Juan and Honolulu, and the tables are warm polished wood, scuffed and scarred from use.

Beckett seems to recognize the waitress who comes to take their order, a smiling, worn, petite woman with a tidy knot of greying hair and a button on her apron that proudly announces I love my corgi! "Hi, Brenda. How have you been?"

"Livin' the dream, hon. As always." Brenda nods at Castle. "You brought a friend?"

"This is Rick. He's working with the precinct."

Rick flashes Brenda a smile, shaking her hand warmly. "Nice to meet you, Brenda."

"Likewise, sweetie. Welcome to Remy's. You two want a few minutes to look over the menu?"

They do, so she smiles, sets down water glasses, and leaves them to their perusal. "The burgers are really good," Beckett informs him distractedly, eyeing the plastic-covered page. "And the shakes. The shakes are amazing."

She leans on her slim elbows, wrinkling her nose as she reads, and Castle actually can't even handle how beautiful she is when she's not even trying.

He takes her advice and orders a burger, fries, and a chocolate shake. She's always right. He's willing to bet this is no exception.

"So, Castle." She takes a long sip of her water, and he tries to stop looking at her mouth. "Let's hear these penetrating, analytical questions about the art of interrogation."

He is absolutely not going to let the word penetrating, in that teasing, throaty purr, derail his train of th-

Too late.

"Uh. Right." Oh. He jotted down some notes. Right. He fumbles for his notebook, flipping to the page he'd scribbled on earlier. "Okay. So - when you're talking to someone, and you know they have information but you need them to come out and say it -" he pauses, not sure how to finish his question. "I'm not sure exactly how to say this."

"You want to know how I approach it?"

"More or less, yeah."

She sits back, twisting her straw wrapper between her fingers. "Well, it's a game. It's a question of how I can get a person to decide it's more in his interest to tell me something than it is to hide it. You were watching today, so you saw that - Scoville started out thinking he could just deny everything, walk away. I had to convince him I knew enough to nail him on drug charges, so he would tell me what I needed to know."

"You kept winding him up, though." Rick sets his chin on his hand, fascinated. "You almost left the room."

She shrugs. "It's a question of whether or not he calls my bluff. Today, he didn't. I didn't care about him. But every time he talked, he gave me something. It's all information. I just - have to steer him the way I want him to go."

"You let him tell you things you already knew."

She nods. "Knowing it isn't enough. I have to make sure it's laid out properly for the prosecution. It's about the big picture."

"Hold that thought."

Castle pulls out a pen and starts jotting down cool phrases like It's about the big picture and It's a question of whether or not he calls my bluff. Today, he didn't. "You know, people say I have a knack for storytelling, but I'm telling you, you've got a natural gift for this."

She rolls her eyes, but he can see a flush staining her cheeks pink. Ah. She wasn't expecting that.

The moment is broken as Brenda arrives with their food, and as much fun as he's having with this softer version of Beckett who smiles and laughs and doesn't threaten to pull his nose off his face, Castle finds himself floored by the food.

"You weren't kidding. This might be the best burger ever."

She hums in amusement, absorbed in her own burger and strawberry shake. She's even adorable when she eats, deliberate as she is all the time, focused on her food, occasionally slurping at her shake.

This isn't the kind of date he'd meant to take her on when they first met. His first twenty-four hours' exposure to Kate Beckett had fostered a lot of ideas of French wines and skimpy dresses and limos and invitations back to her place for coffee that absolutely did not end up including coffee.

So far, he's enjoying this a lot more.

He pays the check and leaves Brenda a generous tip, and insists on holding Beckett's coat for her. "It's gentlemanly."

"It's unnecessary."

"I go the extra mile, Detective."

It earns him another, more strenuous eye roll, but he can tell she's enjoying herself. She can't stop smiling. And in spite of her complaints, she lets him help her on with her jacket.

She drives them to his place, pulling the cruiser neatly to the curb, shifting into park. "Did you get all your questions answered?"

Not even close.

"Yeah. Thank you."

"Thank you for dinner." Her voice is softer than he's used to, nothing like the brisk, efficient tone of Detective Beckett, and is that - is she tucking her hair behind her ear? That's not a Detective Beckett gesture.

It's girlish. It's cute.

"Are you going to walk me to my door?"

"Do you often have trouble finding it?"

He fixes her with the best pout he can muster, and is delighted when she sighs, unclips her seat belt, hops out of the driver's seat, crosses to his side, and opens his door. "There you go, Princess."

"Much obliged."

He's standing with her on the sidewalk, and maybe this is the one part of his fantasy date with her that's accurate. Because she's still smiling, and her eyes are bright, and after chatting over burgers at the least romantic (yet somehow, the best) restaurant he can imagine, he's a little bit certain that this was a really good date.

"I had a really nice time," he says, and it's nothing but sincere.

She bites her lip, and he can't stop staring at her mouth. Again.

"So did I."

He decides to go the true, classy route, since she enjoyed it so much the first time he kissed her on the cheek. So he leans in, one hand to the edge of her jaw, but he's utterly unprepared when she turns her head at the last moment and kisses him on the lips.

It's a slow, gentle kiss, soft and lingering, and it's one more facet of this remarkable young woman, a side of her he's never seen. She never ceases to surprise him. She challenges him.

When the kiss ends and she steps back, looking up at him almost shyly through a fringe of dark lashes, it takes him a second to find his voice.

"Does this mean I can call you Kate?"

That makes her laugh, her tongue between her teeth, and it takes all his self-control to stop from kissing her again. And then one more time. Or four.

"We'll talk."

She leaves with a long glance before she pulls back into traffic, leaving Castle standing on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, with the unshakable sense that he's in way over his head.