5x04 Murder He Wrote

"You didn't seriously ...?"

"Yep."

"You just ...?"

"Yep."

"Does that mean ...?"

"Quite probably."

"Sooo," her voice is nothing he's ever heard before, high and light and a little bit scary, "Ryan knows."

She's almost too calm now the initial freakout is wearing off.

Her nails dig in, "Ryan knows."

Or not wearing off.

She's already at his side, hunched by the bed, but now as she speaks she crawls to him, sits herself up so their elbows brush. Then she Deflates.

"Ryan knows."

He tries not to laugh, honestly he's freaking out too, but his coping mechanisms might get him manhandled, and he's not wearing anywhere near protective enough clothing to deal with her malicious fingers.

"I would say that's a safe assumption."

He's still staring down at the phone, disbelieving.

In retrospect, as a man who prides himself on noticing details, he should have picked up on Ryan's giddiness. One minute it was all la de dar and teasing tone and the next Ryan had spun an evil, convincing web of innocence, enticing Castle down a path of near confession.

"Babe?"

"Ryan?" He blurts, still baffled by the whole conversation, suddenly more incensed than Beckett.

She breathes out a shallow laugh, nodding, stroking, soothing, "Takes you by surprise, doesn't he?"

"Yeah." He huffs, "I figured Lanie would be the one to guess and that - what?"

"Er -" she bites her thumb nail, looks up at him with guilt a heated thing that makes her cheeks bright devilish sparks against the youthful, innocent contrast of her ponytail.

"You told her." His lips quirk but he coughs, hides it, intent on the story.

"She guessed." That flare of heat, sudden once more through her cheeks and down her chest, makes him regret another night spent thoroughly unsatisfied in bed together. Caught up in a case that wasn't even theirs, they've both been as bad as the other when it comes to murderous distraction. But she bites her lip, doesn't even attempt to help when she collapses back into his bed, a dramatic hand flung over her eyes and the already too short robe riding high.

He gulps, tries to stay focused, "She guessed sex I didn't know she guessed -"

"She gave me a lecture, Castle." Kate confesses, "Wanted to know who it was that'd swept me off my feet when she'd been fighting your corner."

"She did?"

"I couldn't lie to her," she swallows, eyes opening slowly to meet his, hand lifting from her face to touch his jaw. "I was so happy," she strokes, scratches at his stubble, "I wanted to tell someone." Her eyes flash to his dangerously, "Don't gloat."

He does gloat, can't help it. Won't even try. "She said you had a glow."

He's on his back with her astride him before he can even blink, the thick cord of her tied robe right there at the tip of his fingers.

"It's a glow of annoyance, I've had it for years," she gripes, but the flex and flare of her hips throw her severity right out the window.

"Sex glow," he hums, feeling her body thrum, delighting in the prospect of making her spark like an exploding neon sign.

"I can hear you thinking," she twists, leans over, the coil of her hair suddenly wrapped in his palm. "Why do you never listen?" She growls, smile bright, hips and knees trapping him tight against her.

"It's more fun when you reprimand me."

"Just want me to - mm - use my cuffs on you, don't you?"

His eyes flare wide, "Did you bring them?"

"Like you don't have a set stashed here."

"I could probably - mmm - put my hand on a pair should you so require."

She quirks an eyebrow at his phrasing, the movement of his fingers, and the fire between them ignites. One small tug and she topples all the way into him.

They kiss, a smirking partnership of lips and teeth and tongue. Hands fast and quick and then frozen nowhere near fun places when the doorbell chimes.

They groan in unison, a name they never plan to utter in bed again.

"Chief Brady."

"Don't invite him in."

"I won't," he promises, extricating himself from her arms. He clambers from the bed and she rolls, retying as she goes.

"Don't agree to help him with anything."

Castle turns hands raised, all innocence and light save for the perpendicular swing of his nether regions.

"And knot your robe, no one wants to see that."

He grins, "Except you."

She rolls her eyes and tosses his pants at his face, huffing when he catches them instead. "Castle, I mean it. I am on vacation."

"I knooow." He calls, voice drifting as he descends the stairs. "Beckett, I've got this."

She barely waits a beat before she follows after him.