Disclaimer: The only part of Castle that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

"Do you ever think about hair?"

"What?"

"Hair, Beckett. Do you ever think about it?" Castle is looking unusually contemplative at the moment, sitting in his chair by her desk at the precinct while they wait for Ryan and Esposito to bring in a suspect for questioning.

"I don't set aside part of my day to think about it. But I guess I think about it when I'm washing it, or when it's uncooperative in boiling hot, humid weather like today. Or when I'm getting it cut. Why?"

"Just wondering."

"Oh, no, Castle, you never 'just wonder.' There is an impetus for this." A knowing smile emerges. "Let me guess. You found a gray hair this morning."

"Gray hair? Dad, are you getting old?"

"No, I definitely did not find a gray hair this morning or at any other time."

"Probably true, since I didn't hear you scream. But you look so indignant! Wait, are you afraid that you're starting to go bald?"

"Seriously, bald? Ha, look at this magnificent head of hair and tell me that you see a scintilla of baldness."

She throws her head back and laughs. "Okay, I don't think anyone can have a scintilla of baldness, but I'm glad you're not so concerned that you actually misused a word."

"Just for that," Castle says, getting up from his chair, "I am going to the break room, where I will make myself a superb, highly aromatic cup of coffee. Knowing that you have already had your maximum intake of caffeine today, I will carry my coffee back here and I will drink it torturously slowly while seated just a foot away from you."

"Torturously? That doesn't sound good."

"I will also smack my lips after each sip, and extol the virtues of that particular blend which, as you know, I order personally."

"From your guy."

"From my guy."

True to his word, Castle walks to the break room and comes back a few minutes later with his coffee. "To return to the subject of hair," he says, sitting down.

"Well, since we're waiting for Espo and Ryan, I guess we can pick up this fascinating discussion where we left off, which is that you do not have a scintilla of baldness. Your phrase."

"You're thirty weeks pregnant."

"I'm aware of that, Castle. Hugely aware. But what does that have to do with hair?"

"Did you know that this is a hirsute milestone?"

"Oh, my God," she says, slapping her forehead, "it's big-word morning."

"To continue, Beckett. I read this morning that at thirty weeks, the baby has hair. Don't you love it?"

"Hey, I could have told you that, you didn't need to read it somewhere! I found it on the top of my head a couple of days ago. It's fun to have something new to play with in here."

"The baby could be bald, Castle. Tons of babies are born without hair."

"Not me, Mom! Wait 'til you see!"

"Not a chance. Look at your hair. You have fabulous hair. Your mother had beautiful hair. Your father still has a full head of hair well into his sixties. I have spectacular hair. So does my mother, albeit not the color that nature entirely intended. And my father, though I'd just as soon not bring him up, also has a fine head of hair. No way the baby can be bald. It's in the genes."

"I thought that you were talking about hair. Genes? I don't have any genes. I keep telling you that I don't have any clothes."

"I hope you won't be disappointed if the baby isn't born with perfect hair," she says.

"It will be."

"You know, maybe it's a question of nature versus nurture. Maybe hair is an environmental issue, Castle."

"Then it's no problem. Look around you. Everyone in this precinct has A-list hair. Ryan, Esposito, Gates, Lanie. LT probably does, too, but he keeps it so short you can't tell."

"What about Montgomery? He was bald."

"He's not here anymore, except in spirit, so I don't think he's a factor."

"And Perlmutter. He's definitely on his way to baldness. A real comb-over candidate."

"He doesn't count, since he's not officially in the precinct."

"Then you can't count Lanie, either."

"Okay, I'll give you that. But you know who else in the building has a mop of hair, much as it pains me to acknowledge it? Demming."

"How about your old pal and erstwhile partner, Slaughter? Detective Receding Hairline."

Castle chuckles. "You're right. And he deserves it. Of course, he'll probably die from doing something incredibly stupid way before he loses all his hair. Then there's Karpowski and Sully. Especially her, huge hair. I know they're not at the Twelfth anymore, but you have to admit."

The elevator dings.

"Oh, the boys," says Beckett. "Thank God."

"Check out the perp. Total cue ball."

"Well, regardless of his hair, or lack thereof, we're going to have to speak with him shortly, so I'm going to go over some of the case details now," she says, gathering up some papers. "Okay?"

" 'kay."

Twelve hours later, Beckett and Castle are at home, getting ready for bed. "I knew that guy was guilty," Castle says over a mouthful of toothpaste. "No hair."

"Is that your new assessment of guilt?"

"Nope, just saying."

"All this talk of hair does remind me that something to put on the list of things we'll need is baby shampoo."

"Already bought it."

"Baby shampoo? Why do I have to have baby shampoo? I bet it's not as nice as Mom's. I love hers. It smells like you could eat it."

"Thanks, Castle. You done? Can I turn out the light?"

"Yup."

Beckett turns out the bathroom light, and yawns. "And so to bed."

"Very sexy, hearing you quote Samuel Pepys."

"I can't imagine how quoting Pepys is sexy, Castle."

"You could be right. Might just be that you're wearing nothing but that tiny little tank top."

"What about genes? Isn't she she wearing genes? I know I said this once before, but I wish I had a mirror in here. I want to know what color my hair is."

TBC

A/N This story has passed the 35,000-word mark, so it's getting to the 50,000-word finish line. I am very grateful for all your support and good humor.