JUST ON THE SURFACE
CHAPTER FIVE

She never knows what kind of case she'll catch, or how it will resonate with her.

A few nights ago, it was the daughter of the victim, who felt guilty because she'd turned down coffee with her now-dead mother. Kate understands the regret and guilt that will follow her for the rest of her life. The daughter's grief fueled Kate to solve the murder, and multiple robberies at the same time. The grief never goes away, she'd said, you just learn to live with it.

Tonight, it's a wife who'd been killed by her husband years before, whose murder wasn't solved because the detective had assumed she'd ran away. She'd related to the victim's father who had enacted revenge, had successfully lobbied to have charges against him dropped. She can't always pick and choose who she can arrest, she'd explained to Castle, but she can do her best to do the right thing.

She stares at a blank report, trying to figure out just how to put the case into words.

She hasn't seen Castle since returning to the precinct almost an hour ago, so she assumes he went home. Without saying goodbye, she realizes, surprising herself with just how annoyed she is at the thought.

Sure, under the guise of pretending to date, they're spending more and more time together outside of the precinct. They've gone to dinner once or twice a week, and each time is more comfortable than the last.

The fact that they're sleeping together now is a bonus.

But they're far from friends.

She rolls her eyes at herself and leans forward, rests her hands on the keyboard. There's no reason that Castle couldn't go home - he's under no obligation to help her with paperwork, and in fact, has been very vocal about his disdain for the most boring part of her job.

Ironic that he'd hate it since he writes for a living.

The sound of the elevator is so familiar that she barely hears it chime as she fills in the victim's name at the top of the form. So when a familiar body drops to the chair next to her desk, she startles and looks up.

"What the hell, Castle?" she snaps, leaning back in her hair .

Castle sets down a plastic bag full of what looks like takeout boxes on her desk. "I brought dinner," he announces, leaning forward, his elbow next to her keyboard. He starts unloading the bag, and her mouth waters at the strong scents that emerge.

She didn't realize she was so hungry until she smelled the food.

Despite the hunger pangs grumbling low in her gut, she turns to face him, raises her brows in annoyance. "I thought you went home."

Castle barely pauses, just glances up at her before retrieving two pairs of chopsticks from the bottom of the bag. "I didn't. Egg roll or pot sticker?"

"What are you doing here, Rick?" she asks, the question coming out as an exasperated sigh. As soon as the words are out his face falls, and she realizes how it sounded, and she shakes her head. "I just didn't figure you'd change your mind about the paperwork."

"Oh, I didn't." A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, but the teasing light in his eyes dims. "Neither of us have eaten since lunch," he explains, "and we'll both need fuel to get through the night."

Her jaw drops. Is he really suggesting…

"Not for that," he continues, "although I'm always down. Or up, if you will," he adds with a wink. "No, I thought I'd keep you company. In case you need to talk anything out."

She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. He's right about them eating, but even though he digs into the food, even though he doesn't say anything, she's pretty sure he has something on his mind. She catches him staring at her a few times, but every time she lifts her head he shifts his gaze to his phone.

"Was it your dad?"

She lifts her gaze to his when he finally breaks the silence several minutes later. His eyes flick to her watch, and she twists her wrist out of habit, looks at the face. It's late, she notices, and she should probably go home and get some sleep. The paperwork could wait until morning. She should avoid Castle's question, like she's avoided almost every one of his attempts to weed out personal information, bid him good night, and go home.

But a memory drifts to the front of her mind: the Tisdale case, their first time working together. Less than 24 hours after they'd met, she'd challenged him to make up her story, thinking he'd pull something ridiculous out of thin air and they could move on. But the story he'd woven wasn't ridiculous.

He'd nailed it right on the head.

Cute trick. Don't think you know me, she'd said through a thick lump in her throat, casually ignoring the way his face turned serious at her words.

"It was my mom," she answers him now, closing the report. She'll finish it tomorrow.

Castle's jaw drops slightly, but he doesn't respond, just leans forward, a silent encouragement for her to continue.

She does.

She clears her throat before sharing it all: the dinner with her dad, how they'd laughed and playfully rolled their eyes over her mom's absence. The police waiting for them at home. The grief and anguish over learning that her mom's murder was being written off, the people who were supposed to help her claiming it was random and the perpetrator would be long gone. Her dad's struggle with the bottle and eventual trip to rehab, her own determination to never let another family live without justice.

"So I wear this for the life that I saved," she finishes, lifting her wrist before pulling her necklace from under her shirt. "And this for the life that I lost."

The ring glints in the light from the bullpen, and she holds it between two fingers, aware of Castle's eyes on hers. She knows the memories of her mom will always be with her, but she carries around the necklace for the constant, physical reminder of what she's fighting for. The chain weighs heavy on her neck during every case, so she never forgets.

Not that she could.

"I became a cop so I could give others the justice that I've never gotten for myself," she adds, finally lifting her gaze to the man next to her. She's surprised to see a wet shimmer in his eyes, and she swallows, her own emotion starting to bubble to the surface. She shrugs. "There you go, Castle. There's the tragic backstory you've been looking for."

He doesn't even react to the tease. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, his voice hoarse.

She shrugs again. "It's been a long time," she admits, "so I've learned to live with it. That's not to say I wouldn't enjoy watching the bastard who killed her rot in jail, but I know that won't happen."

Castle's eyes light up. "Maybe I could look at the case," he suggests, sitting straighter in his chair. "I know people-"

Anger flares hot in her chest.

"No," she snaps. She shakes her head and pokes a finger in his chest when he starts to argue. "No, Castle. You think I don't have every letter of that file memorized? I spent my first three years on the force hunched over it, looking for anything, any shred of evidence that might have been missed." She shakes her head at the memory that surfaces. "It took me a year of therapy to realize that if I didn't let it go, it was going to kill me. So I let it go."

"But-"

"Listen closely because I'm only going to say this once." Kate levels her glare at him. "You touch my mom's case, and we're over. I don't give a shit about the dating, about the stupid press. If you even look at it, we're done."

Castle looks at her for a long moment before nodding. "Okay."

"Okay." Kate mirrors his nod and turns off her computer. "I'm going home."

He stands when she does, tossing the empty food containers in her trash. "Alone?" he asks.

She tilts her head at his tone. He almost sounds disappointed, and she'd be lying to herself if she said she didn't want to have sex with him tonight. No, she definitely does.

But this case had rubbed her raw and opened a wound she'd thought had scabbed over years ago. She's already shared her story; if she lets him in anymore, she'll end up sharing her soul. So she grabs her coat and slips it on, ignoring the longing look in his eyes.

"Good night, Castle."

She can't sleep.

Her eyes burn with fatigue, but her mind races, and all she can do is stare at the ceiling, glancing at the clock every so often only to watch the minutes creep past.

It's after one by the time she groans in frustration and slides out of bed. She grabs her yoga mat and her phone and makes her way to her living room, turning on a lamp as she goes. Hopefully a few minutes of stretching and meditation will help relax her mind, without wiring her up so much that she can't sleep.

Out of habit, she checks her phone and does a double take when she sees the text notification. She pulls it up with one hand while unrolling her yoga mat with the other, and when she sees Castle's name, she pauses.

Thank you for sharing about your mom.

She smiles, despite the renewed pit of grief low in her gut. He's annoying as hell, but he can be sweet when it counts. Despite the hour, she types a quick you're welcome.

Much to her surprise, a reply appears almost immediately, and she lowers herself to the couch, draws her bottom lip between her teeth.

You're up late.

Yeah, I can't sleep.

Me neither. Wanna come over?

She holds her breath at his invitation. She's tempted, oh so tempted, but if she has any hope of getting any sleep to be functional, she shouldn't.

Unfortunately, her fingers have a different idea.

Be there in 20.

He's waiting for her when the elevator door opens, and Kate takes a moment to just appreciate the lines of his body as he leans against the door frame. When their eyes meet he smiles, and he pushes himself off, holds out his hand in greeting.

She takes his hand without a word and allows him to pull her into him, and she lifts her face to his, leans into his kiss.

They step into his apartment and he shuts the door quietly, their mouths never parting, pushing her back against it as his tongue slips between her open lips. She moans into his mouth and buries her fingers in his hair, holding him to her, curls her leg around his.

His mouth trails along her cheek to her jaw, and he nips at the sensitive spot under her ear, his tongue darting out to sooth the sting. When his hips buck into hers she gasps, and he freezes and lifts his head.

"Bedroom," he murmurs against her lips. "We have to be quiet."

She quirks a brow and laces her fingers through his. "I can be quiet if you can," she teases, tugging him towards his room.

She pauses as she steps through the door, taking a moment to look around. She's seen glimpses of his space, but hasn't been inside yet, and it's not exactly the messy bachelor's paradise she expected. There are no beer cans on the nightstand, no dirty clothes littering the floor.

Then again, he is a single father to a teenager, so he has to act like an adult sometimes.

She jumps when his palms land on her shoulders, and she turns to face him. Her arms loop around his waist and she lifts herself to her toes, her eyes fluttering shut as their mouths meet again. She touches her tongue to his lips, a gentle prod, and as soon as their tongues slide together his hands grip her hips and he starts to walk her backwards.

When her legs bump the mattress she sits, breaking their kiss with a sigh, watches as the corners of his mouth lift and he gazes down at her. She glances at the front of his pants, his erection tenting his sweats, and she leans forward, presses her mouth to the fabric, teasing him through his clothes.

His hips jerk and he gasps, and she looks up at him, hooks her fingers in his waistband, and tugs his pants down his legs. Her tongue darts out to swirl around his tip, tasting him. He groans, one hand burying itself in her hair and the other covering his mouth to muffle the noise as she drags her tongue up his length.

She's already learned Castle's tells when he's close to losing control, so she takes her time, gripping his thigh with one hand, using the other to stroke him as she licks and sucks.

Before long he starts to moan, his hold on her hair tightening, his hips rolling, slowly fucking her mouth. She moves her hand from his thigh to his ass, her fingers digging into him as she slides her mouth all the way to his base and swallows around his head.

He jerks with a muffled cry, and she feels him swell in her mouth, drags her mouth back up his length, strokes him with her fist as she sucks around his head and he comes, spilling on her tongue. He trails his fingers through her hair, untangling the short locks, gives her a lazy smile when she scoots back on the bed.

"Quiet, huh?" she teases, her eyes raking down his body as he kicks his pants to the side and tears his shirt off. She quickly undresses, feels her heartbeat quicken as he watches, lust obvious in his darkened eyes.

Lust…and something else. Something soft and tender.

Why the hell is he looking at her like that? This is sex. That's it. Outside of his shadowing her at work, they have pretend dates, real sex, and nothing more. Certainly no feelings.

Her eyes drop to his erection, already hard again, and she grabs his arm, tugs him onto the bed, and straddles his lap.

She curls her fingers around his cock, leans down and muffles his groan with the hard press of her mouth against his. "Quiet," she reminds him with a murmur, their lips brushing, her tongue darting out to touch his. She rolls her hips, coating his cock with her arousal, and she throws her head back, moaning when she guides him to her entrance and sinks down.

"Oh," she gasps when he's fully inside her, pausing for a moment to adjust to his size. She's used to him now, to the stretch, the welcome ache that comes before the pleasure.

His fingers dig into her thighs, flexing as she begins to move, to rock against him. She's already close, and before long she falls forward, braces herself on his chest as she moans with her climax. He grips the back of her neck and brings her mouth to his, sweeps his tongue against hers as she clenches around him.

He continues to thrust, his fingers buried in her hair, holding her mouth to his, muffling their moans of pleasure as his cock pounds into her, as she trembles, another orgasm quickly approaching.

His hand slides from her thigh to her ass, and he squeezes, guides her as she rocks her hips, her clit rubbing against his pelvis, his cock hitting her just right. "Oh God," she gasps, tearing her mouth from his, her legs trembling with the effort to keep moving, to get the friction she so desperately needs to come.

Castle grunts and drops his head back into the pillow, his mouth falling open as he slams into her, holding her on his cock as he pulses with his climax.

She follows him over the edge, rocking, grinding, gasping, falling forward when her shudders eventually cease. She buries her face in his neck, feels his hands splay across her back as she pants, trying to catch her breath.

He chuckles, the sound reverberating through her, and his lips press against the top of her head. "You weren't exactly quiet," he teases, one hand sliding down to pinch her ass.

She jumps, squirming away from him with a laugh. She lands on her side and props her head on her hand, and he mirrors her pose, his eyes light with amusement. "Neither were you," she shoots back, poking his chest.

He grabs her finger and presses a kiss to the tip. "We'll do better next time."

It could be like this all the time, she thinks to herself, letting her head fall to the pillow. The two of them, enjoying the afterglow of some more than satisfying sex, dozing off in each other's arms. She enjoys waking up with him, feeling his strong arms around her as they cuddle-

She sits up, the thought starting to spiral her into a panic.

"Kate?" He follows her up, watching as she gets out of bed and starts to dress when she emerges from the bathroom. "What is it?"

She shakes her head, refusing to look at him. No, if she makes eye contact, if she sees that same soft look, she might never leave. And he's too much of a playboy; he'd break her heart, and she can't afford for that to happen again.

Not after her last boyfriend, not after…

She doesn't know if she could survive another heartbreak, letting someone inside her walls, to see her stripped bare only to smash her to pieces.

"I have to go," she lies, hoping he doesn't see through it. She glances around for her shoes; they must still be by the door, so she'll grab them on the way out, put them on in the elevator when she's out of his reach.

"Kate-"

"Early shift," she interrupts. "I'll call when I get a case."

With that, she walks out of his room, her steps brisk, needing to be gone before he can catch up to her.

Somehow she manages not to give into his desperate, whispered plea for her to stay.

Somehow she leaves.