2x14 The Third Man

"On a scale of one to ... Australia, how dangerous are we talking?"

He turns his head away, grimacing and she laughs, not at him per se but not not at him. "Castle, it's a harmless tarantula," she smoothes one hand up his chest, over the lapels of his suit, "now stay still and I'll just -"

"Harmless?" He squeaks, closes his eyes, "You're not seriously gonna touch it?"

"Well yeah, unless you wanna keep it." She makes to step back, holding up her hands, "I'm sure it will make a run for it eventually, probably climb inside your shirt and shimmy across your chest, slide down your pant leg -"

"Eughhhh, get it off, Beckett." He closes his eyes, doesn't feel her move closer until the warmth of her hand lands on his chest again. "How are you so calm about this?" He hisses through clenched teeth, eyes still scrunched, trying not to shudder.

She lets out a quiet laugh, warm breath ghosting over his cheek telling him she's closer still. He peeks one eye open then, catches a glimpse of her tongue stroke across her lip in concentration.

"I dated a guy in high school," she hums, "parents had a collection, pretty cool snake too." She talks, about animals and the weird smelling teenage boy she spent three months with. About feeding snakes and dead mice and that she loved the feel of rats tails between her fingers, the domesticated kind, she stresses, not the evil sewer dwelling monsters. She's clever, and sweet, kind in ways he's always assumed but never really been on the receiving end of. Beckett distracts him with the movement of her tone rather than her hands as she weaves her tale, the lyrical flow of her voice giving up glimpses of her history so he won't focus on where she has her finger tips.

Calm and collected, as though dealing with an eight legged suspect, she entices the beast into the palm of her hand and lifts it away, chuckling as Castle squeaks out his relief and collapses forward, pressing his hands to his knees. It's only once she's placed the spider safely behind glass that Beckett sees how truly shaken he is.

"Hey, it's gone," she brushes a hand over the curve of his spine, "you okay there, Castle?"

"Don't laugh?" He pleads, shuddery breath making his voice sound far away.

With her hand on his back she can feel the ripple through his muscles as he shakes and unknowingly she begins to stroke back and forth, up and down the length of his spine.

"I won't laugh." She swears it, can feel the tremor of fear that leaves his body tight with more than just fear, perhaps something bordering more on phobia? "Do you want me to -"

"Stay." He breathes the word, less pant and more hiss as he calms himself down.

"I walked into a nest once." He blurts. It's sudden enough to make her hand freeze but she hides it well, strokes on and waits him out. Knowing him, talking will help. "Mother spent one summer working in this run down theatre in London, there were rats and cobwebs, perfect for the ambience of a Jack the Ripper play." He laughs, sounding more like himself by the second. "I was running around backstage -"

"How old were you?" She questions, chasing flickers in her mind's eye of a sweet little boy, with dark hair and mischievous smile, skipping merrily into danger.

"Five," he sighs, "I ran through a loop of cobwebs, thought it was cool. It tickled." He smiles, stands straight and doesn't comment when her hand stays pressed softly against his back. "I was spinning around and around, laughing and then -" his voice cuts off, a gulp and a groan forcing the remainder of the story from him - "suddenly they were everywhere."

She grimaces on his behalf, strokes again, loops her fingers around to coil at his elbow.

"I think I screamed for a solid five minutes."

"And ever since?"

He shakes his head, "Not all the time. I had nightmares for a while, became more of a stomp and run kind of person rather than trap and release."

"Alexis liked to let them go free," she guesses, smiling in sympathy when he nods. She grows quiet, speaks softly, "I wouldn't have -"

"I know."

He releases a shaky breath and stands straight, fingers sliding over her own as if she's holding him up. Their eyes lock and she waits him out, expecting something other than the thankful gaze he bathes her with. Nothing comes. In the distance they hear the boys, clearing the scene, shouting orders and requests back and forth to the uniformed officers traipsing through the pet shop. His eyes widen and his head jerks to hers.

"I won't say a word," Beckett vows, reaching for her purse as they step apart.

"Thank you." Eyes serious, bearing a solemn weight she seldom sees, Castle reaches for her hand. "And thank you for, erm, saving me from the beast."

She smiles as he tries to joke his way through it, "That's what partners are for."

He grins, pleased. "Saving my ass in the heat of the moment?"

"I draw the line at touching your ass, Castle." She laughs when his cheeks flush and he splutters, levity for his benefit, "That's when you call Esposito."