Author's Note: And now for the next day….

The Best-Laid Plans

Chapter 4

Kate wasn't entirely sure what she expected the next morning but she was somehow still a little surprised–and she refused to identify the small–tiny, absolutely miniscule–kernel of something warmer, something like relief–when she looked up to see Castle stepping out of the elevator, just as usual. Also just as usual, he was carrying two cups of coffee, one for her and one for him.

She had rather wondered, half-feared, that he would swagger into the precinct, an 'I got laid last night' smirk written all over his face, in which case she might just need to shoot him, but he didn't. If anything, he looked almost subdued, sober, although he managed smiles and nods of greeting to the various other uniforms who greeted him and a couple words for the boys, also as usual.

"Morning, Beckett." He placed her cup of coffee on her desk in front of her before sinking into his chair.

She only nodded in acknowledgment, avoiding any verbal response by reaching for the cup and bringing it to her lips because she didn't trust her voice right then. Not as she grappled with her reaction to just seeing him, stunned and a little appalled by the wash of sexual heat that flushed through her body, her breasts tingling, a faint, needy ache starting between her thighs. Shit! Oh god. She was not expecting this, had told herself all last night and this morning that the attraction between them was bound to fade, maybe not completely, not immediately, but it would and after all, they'd had their one night and now she could move on. Itch scratched, as it were.

Of course, she still felt a few twinges in her muscles and she'd needed to wear a high-necked shirt to cover up a couple marks he'd left on her clavicle and lower, and she'd worn pants that were loose on her thighs because of the faint stubble marks so she wasn't forgetting what had happened–would never forget it. But still, she was convinced–told herself she was convinced–that she would be fine, would be able to go back to normal.

Instead, her stupid, traitorous body was proving her wrong, very wrong, ambushing her with the reminder that she'd had (amazing) sex with him, that he'd kissed and licked her breasts and–oh god–the rest of her too, that he'd been inside her, that she'd–

She guillotined the thought, unthinkingly taking too large of a gulp of her coffee and ending up coughing as some of it went down the wrong way, something she welcomed for once as a distraction. Focused on clearing her throat, she was no longer focused on, well, other things.

She waved a hand to forestall his concern and the questioning glances of the other cops, coughing again, before she managed, "Just swallowed the wrong way, that's all."

"Oh, okay."

He settled back in his chair and she focused her attention on her computer as if her life depended on it. Or at least she tried to but she swore she felt or sensed his gaze on her, tugging at her attention, until she finally snapped, hissing just above her breath, "Stop staring!"

She felt him jerk his eyes away from her for a couple minutes and then he stood up and wandered over to the boys' desks and she felt as if she could breathe easier. At least until another thought occurred to her. She hadn't realized until she'd returned home last night but in their minimal conversation, she hadn't ordered Castle to keep the events of last night secret.

She shot a glance at the boys, tried not to look at Castle because if she did, she was afraid she would only be distracted by her reaction to him. She didn't expect Castle would just announce what they'd done to the boys but the boys were detectives, and damn good ones at that, so it wasn't entirely unlikely that they might notice that something had changed. She doubted, knowing Espo, that he, at least, would ever suspect the truth but Ryan–well, Ryan might since he tended to be somewhat more, well, attuned to relationship issues. Not that she and Castle were in a relationship but, well, interpersonal issues then.

She couldn't hear whatever the boys were saying but from the look on Espo's face, he was ribbing Castle about something while Ryan was smirking and then she heard the sound of Castle's response. She didn't know what to make of the fact that she could make out the tone of Castle's voice, his light, teasing tone, when she hadn't been able to do the same for Espo, although they were the same distance away.

Ryan was now getting into it, whatever fun he and Espo were having, teasing Castle as usual, and she heard Castle's laugh, the sound pulling her eyes to Castle. He was grinning, the smile that always made his eyes seem even bluer, and had propped one foot on the support bar of a chair, the posture drawing her eyes down to his butt before she belatedly realized where she was looking and yanked her gaze back to her computer.

No no no no! She was not, absolutely was not, going to do this, getting distracted by his appearance–again–even if he was looking sexier than any man had the right to look.

She told herself she was relieved, glad even, that Castle was apparently able to shrug off their one night and act normally as if nothing had changed, nothing had happened. It was what she'd wanted, after all.

LT ambled up to join them, easily falling into whatever bantering conversation was going on, and for the first time, it occurred to her that for all of Castle's celebrity status, he'd been accepted by not just the boys but the other cops in the bullpen as one of their own with surprising ease. She knew cops were not exactly the most welcoming group of people to outsiders or amenable to civilian interference but after the first few weeks of Castle shadowing her, Castle had been accepted and certainly no one batted an eye at his presence anymore. She hadn't thought of it in such terms before but it spoke well of Castle that he'd been able to make himself so welcome. Cops tended to be suspicious and not even Castle's gift of the espresso machine would have won people over if he hadn't also made himself liked on his own account. Castle might be a celebrity but he was, odd as it seemed considering his cockiness, a down-to-earth one.

LT wandered off and Kate took advantage of the brief pause created by his departure to push herself to her feet, automatically gaining Castle's attention as she'd somehow known it would. "Hey, Castle, you want to make yourself useful and give me a hand with some files?"

"Castle being useful on a paperwork day? That'll be a first," Espo jibed.

Castle threw a sarcastic grimace at Espo but otherwise ignored him, hurrying over to her. "At your service, Detective," he declared with mock formality.

She turned to head out of the bullpen towards case file storage. It wasn't a necessary errand and not one she would normally have asked for help with but it provided a bit of privacy for the talk she and Castle needed to have.

She turned to him the moment they arrived, noting the inquiring lift of his eyebrows, but then made a show of perusing the labels on the case file boxes to keep her eyes from getting distracted by his mouth or his eyes or any other part of him. "I wanted to say that you cannot tell anyone about what happened last night. If I hear even a syllable about someone cashing in on that bet going–"

"Wait, you know about the bet?" he blurted out, interrupting her.

That made her glance at him, giving him a look. "I'm a detective, remember? Of course I know about that bet and like I said, if there's so much as a whisper about last night–"

"They'll never find my body," Castle finished for her glibly. "Understood." He paused, hesitated, and then asked, in a lower voice, "Do you regret it?" Again, an expression that might have been something like hurt flickered across his face but it was gone before she could really identify it, let alone dwell on it.

"No," she blurted out immediately, unthinkingly. How could she regret what had been the best sex of her life? She felt color surging into her cheeks at the thought but went on, "It's not that. It's just that it's hard enough to be taken seriously as a female cop and having rumors about my personal life going around won't help."

"Oh, right." She glanced at him to see him looking briefly chastened. "Last night will be our secret."

Our secret. She mentally shook off the thought that the phrase sounded… intimate–ridiculous, considering what they had done last night–and yet, sharing a secret was another tie between them. Not that it mattered, she hurriedly corrected herself.

She nodded with an assumption of briskness. "Good, just wanted to make that clear. Now, can you pull down this box?" she indicated one of the boxes on the top shelf.

"Sure thing."

She forcibly did not allow herself to watch him as he did so but it hardly helped, vivid mental images of the muscles of his arms, his chest, flashing into her mind, the strength that had been made so clear to her yesterday and she felt a little shiver of reaction streak through her before she could tamp it down. She sucked in a breath but that didn't help at all because she got a whiff of his familiar cologne and thought–absurdly–that she wanted to step closer, bury her face against his throat, in his shirt, and just breathe in his scent.

The thought had her spinning around, her steps hurried, as she almost not but quite fled back to the safety of her desk in the safe, public, open space of the bullpen. No more, she could not be alone with Castle anymore if she could help it. At least not until she could get this stupid response to him under control.

And she absolutely did not watch–ogle–him as he bent to set the box down by her desk, did not picture the flex of his muscles as he did so. (She absolutely did.)

She yanked off the cover of the box and pulled out a file at random, focusing on it as if her life depended on memorizing the contents.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his pant legs as he lingered, hesitated, by the side of her desk, felt his gaze on the back of her head and neck, and fought the urge to squirm or shift her weight or otherwise react in any way. And after a moment, he moved away from her desk and she told herself she was glad of it, forced her eyes to actually focus on the file in front of her.

But before she'd managed to take in even a quarter of the page, her makeshift concentration was scattered yet again as she somehow sensed his return and then a mug of coffee appeared on her desk.

He'd made her a latte, just as she liked it, she already knew, and–only Castle, really–had traced a smiley face into the foam. It was so silly, a childish little gesture, and yet somehow, she felt warmth kindling inside her, a small curving her lips, almost in spite of herself.

And it drove her to look up at him, meet his eyes. "Thanks."

He visibly brightened. "Anytime."

Their eyes met and held for another couple seconds but then one of the uniforms hurried past, behind Castle, and reminded her that they were in the middle of the bullpen and she jerked her eyes back down.

She sensed rather than saw Castle move away, retreating, and she couldn't help but dart a quick glance to watch him, noting that he was returning to the break room. Probably to make himself a latte too, she guessed.

He all but ran into Karpowski at the door to the break room and even though she told herself she didn't care, she couldn't quite look away either, watched from the corner of her eyes as Castle greeted Karpowski with his usual ease. They chatted while Castle moved to the espresso machine–and therefore mostly out of her line of sight, but then Karpowski left the break room with a mug of what Kate knew had to be coffee made by Castle.

So he was being nice. He could hardly have made himself a coffee and then not made one for Karpowski as well, considering she was right there, and whatever Castle's faults, he wasn't rude.

Kate once again returned her gaze to the open file, promising herself that this time she really would make it through the whole thing, manage to concentrate, and she succeeded for at least a little while.

But then, not that many minutes later, she heard a loud burst of laughter and had to look up to see that a small group of a handful of her colleagues–she identified Zapata, Merlotti, Robinson, and Quan at a glance–had gathered in the break room. And she could just make out a shoulder and an arm which was enough for her to know that Castle was still there, in front of the espresso machine. Even as she watched, Castle briefly stepped into view to hand a mug to Merlotti before returning to his stance before the espresso machine.

He'd been trapped into acting as the barista for all of Homicide now? He did make a very good latte, she knew, so she supposed that was one way for him to make himself useful on a paperwork day (since he still didn't do paperwork) but even so, it didn't seem entirely fair either.

Wait, what was she thinking? Since when did she feel such indignation on Castle's behalf anyway? He wasn't some child that needed protecting.

No, he wasn't a child but he was a friend. She was allowed to be concerned about a friend. That was all it was.

(She ignored the little voice in her mind inserting that it wouldn't have occurred to her to wonder if Ryan were being taken advantage of in some way.)

Castle again briefly appeared to hand a mug to Quan and then Captain Montgomery strode across the bullpen to the break room.

"All right, break it up. What is this, a social club?" Montgomery queried, although his tone was mild.

The cops scattered before him and Montgomery took their place to join Castle in the break room.

She could not, of course, hear what Montgomery said to Castle or Castle's response but before too many minutes, both men emerged from the break room, each of them, she noted, with their own mug.

"I hope you're better at making coffee than you are at playing poker," Montgomery quipped.

Castle huffed and bridled. "Says the man who owed me $40 after the last poker match."

"But the game before that, you ended up owing me $75 so I think that shows something. But then again, Hizzonor did swear he'd wipe the floor with both of us next time."

Castle snorted. "Him and what army?"

"I'm telling him you said that," Montgomery shot back.

"Feel free. Which reminds me, did you–" Whatever Montgomery had been about to say was cut off by the sound of Montgomery's phone ringing and he sighed a little. "Never mind, duty calls."

Castle waved his free hand in a shoo-ing gesture. "Go, do captain-y stuff."

The Captain threw a mock salute with his free hand before he went to answer his phone while Castle wandered back over to the boys and Kate belatedly realized that she'd been watching Castle for minutes–almost mooning after him, a voice in her mind interjected–and she jerked her eyes away, back to the file on her desk and promised herself yet again that she would focus on her work now.

By sheer dint of will, she was able to concentrate for the rest of the day, a feat made much easier by the fact that Castle didn't stick around for much longer after that, heading out just before noon as he often did on paperwork days, claiming a need to get some writing done. Although he paused, also as usual, before leaving to add, "Don't forget to call me if a body drops, Beckett."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You know it's freakish to be so excited over murder."

He only laughed and she sternly ignored the little flutter of pleasure inside her at making him laugh. (Why did she care?) "So I've been told. Alexis tells me I'm weird all the time."

"Smart girl."

"Yeah, she really is."

The way his expression softened at the mention of his daughter was not cute. It wasn't. "I thought you were leaving, Castle, not hanging around to bother me some more."

He smirked–and she tried hard not to focus on the smug curve of his lips–and lifted a hand in a wave as he turned away. "I'm going. Til tomorrow, Detective."

"Bye, Castle."

She sternly did not allow herself to watch him walk away and told herself she was glad he was leaving, relieved to be able to focus on her work without his distracting presence. Which she was, really.

And if she found herself glancing at his empty chair at several points over the afternoon, well, it wasn't about him personally so much as she'd just become accustomed to his presence, like a habit, another piece of furniture, or something. And, well, he was useful in keeping her supplied with coffee and small snacks over the course of the day. But that was all it was. Mostly all.

And she wasn't going to spend any more time thinking about him!

At the end of her shift, Kate returned home and told herself it was nice, fine–a relief, in fact– to spend a quiet evening in as she usually did, getting back to her routine. She would be able to resume her normal life, just as if nothing had happened, she was sure of it.

It was perfectly normal as she got ready for bed and fell asleep by mentally reviewing paperwork procedures.

But her sleeping mind turned traitor on her and she dreamed of Castle. Of him joining her in her bedroom, bending over her bed. "You didn't think once would be enough, did you, Beckett?" he husked. "Once wasn't enough for me either," she admitted rather breathlessly and she was the one to pull him into her bed. And then he kissed her and she opened for him, welcomed him, as their clothes seemed to melt away and then it was skin against skin and she could feel the solid weight of him above her, his hands caressing her, his mouth trailing down her neck to her chest and she arched into him…

And startled awake on her own breathless moan, hot and flushed and feeling a needy ache between her legs.

Oh god.

She'd had sex dreams before. She'd even had sex dreams involving Castle before–she didn't care to admit just how many she'd had, but suffice to say, it had happened before. And yes, some of them had felt real, but nothing like this, not so intense, so she could swear she still felt the heat of him, the slight scrape of his stubble against her skin. Could almost swear even the scent of him, of his cologne and underlying that, the clean, masculine scent that was just him, lingered in her nostrils. The vivid sensory memories merging with her dreams and leaving her hot and restless and aching so she knew there was no way she would be able to fall back asleep until she got some relief.

She pushed her pajama bottoms down, releasing a shuddering little breath as she slid one hand into the wet heat between her legs. Her other hand slid up under her loose sleep shirt, found her breast, teasing the already-hardened nipple further.

And allowed him to consume her mind. It was his voice she heard, his face she pictured behind her closed eyes, his eyes, his mouth, his hands she imagined caressing her, touching her with all the skill, the knowledge, she remembered so vividly.

She was already close, the dream alone had pushed her almost all the way, so it didn't take long for the tight coil of arousal to burst with a last thrust and curl of her fingers inside her, against her. Her hips jerked against her own hand, a strangled moan of his name escaping her throat as she shuddered and then sagged into her bed.

Her body felt better, more relaxed now, but her mind was clearing rather too quickly, making her conscious of the fact that it was probably one of the least satisfying climaxes she'd ever felt.

She clamped her lips shut against the sigh that threatened to escape, shutting her eyes tighter as if that would keep her from seeing reality, but couldn't deny the truth of it.

It was only normal, she told herself, had to just be a reflection of how short a time it had been since she'd had sex with Castle for real. Of course, getting herself off would pale in comparison to the real thing with a willing partner, that was all it was. It wasn't about him specifically.

She refused to let it be about him specifically. There was no reason to feel as if she would never be fully satisfied except with him, no reason to feel as if he had ruined her for anyone else. It simply couldn't be.

It had just been one night of good sex–okay, one night of amazing sex–but she'd had good sex before and she was sure would be able to have it again. Nothing about it was unique to Castle.

She just needed to get over her body's… fixation on him and she would. She was sure she would. Eventually. She just needed more time, that was all. More time, more distance, and then it really would be as if nothing had really happened.

~To be continued…~

A/N 2: Thank you, as always, to all readers and reviewers.