Author's Note: Apologies for not being able to post last week but RL got in the way. This chapter was a fun one to write so I hope you all enjoy it.

The Best-Laid Plans

Chapter 21

Kate beat Lanie to the restaurant where they had agreed to meet but she had only been seated for a couple minutes before Lanie walked in.

Lanie dropped into the seat across from Kate. "Hey, Beckett." Lanie pinned a look at her. "Do you want to tell me what's up?"

Kate blinked, nonplussed by this blunt, if very Lanie-like, opening. "Hey. Why would you think anything is up?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You haven't suggested we meet up outside of work for months now. I was starting to think you were avoiding me and I'd have to kidnap you to get you to come out and then, suddenly, you want to get dinner? Something's up with you," she concluded.

Kate inwardly winced. She hadn't been avoiding Lanie, exactly. Well, okay, she sort of had, at least in the last few weeks since this whole… thing with Castle had started because she'd been nervous that Lanie's rather scary sixth sense when it came to Kate's personal life would kick in and have Lanie noticing or guessing that Kate had slept with Castle and she absolutely hadn't wanted to talk about her plan with Lanie. And before that, she hadn't wanted to talk about Tom either or deal with Lanie's continued teasing about having lived at Castle's loft for over a week after her old apartment had exploded. "I've been busy. I had to find a new apartment and all that and it's not like work leaves me with a lot of free time as it is."

"And? I notice you didn't deny that something is up."

Kate opened her mouth although she had no idea what she would say but thankfully, before she had to formulate a response, the server appeared, asking if they wanted anything to drink. Kate opted for a glass of wine while Lanie ordered a margarita.

But then once the server left, Lanie–of course–returned to her earlier preoccupation. "So, what is it? You know I won't give up until you tell me."

That was true enough. Kate gave up on the futile attempt to stall and decided to just spit it out. "Castle and I talked over the weekend and, well, we're together now."

Lanie's eyes flared as she gaped. And then– "You had sex with Castle?!"

Kate flinched a little, glancing around to see who might have overheard Lanie's outburst, even as she felt herself color. Because of course that was what Lanie's first takeaway would be. "Lanie!" she hissed. "Could you try to be a little louder? I don't think they heard you in Boston." Thankfully, the restaurant was loud enough with the dinner rush and they were seated in a corner, so she didn't think anyone had heard. She hoped.

Lanie didn't even bother to look repentant, although she did lower her voice. "You had sex with Castle?"

"Will you stop saying that? Is that really all you have to say when I tell you that Castle and I are together?"

Lanie smirked. "No, the other thing I have to say is that it's about damn time."

Why had she thought she needed to tell Lanie about this? Aside from the minor detail that if she didn't and Lanie found that out, Lanie would probably go after her with her scalpels. And why was that everyone's reaction? It didn't seem to her that she and Castle getting together was that foreseeable. Having sex with him, maybe, but a relationship, not so much.

She narrowed her eyes at Lanie. "And don't tell anyone." By which she meant, the boys.

"You're keeping it a secret?"

Kate grimaced. "Not exactly. I just don't want to have it broadcast to everyone at the precinct for a while. I told Captain Montgomery because of the regs about partners being involved but that's it. It's just… new… and I don't want to have to deal with a whole bunch of teasing or prying questions right now."

Lanie's expression softened just a smidge. "I guess I can understand that. Cops are just about the nosiest people around and considering the bet about you and Castle, they'll be even more interested."

Oh damn, the bet, she'd forgotten about that. Although, she supposed, whoever cashed in on it would technically be wrong since she and Castle had, after all, slept together for the first time weeks ago. But no one was ever going to know about that.

"Yeah, well, the bet can wait," she clipped.

Lanie waved a hand. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

Lanie rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, Beckett. You can't just–"

Lanie's question was fortunately forestalled when the server returned with their drinks and then took their orders for dinner, both of them choosing somewhat by rote after a quick glance at the menu since they'd been here before. But once the server left again, Lanie continued without so much as a breath. "You can't just tell me you and Castle have finally done the deed without telling me more. So, how was it?"

"You have a one-track mind," she tried deflecting. "Sex isn't the only thing that a relationship involves, you know."

"No, but it is a pretty important part of a relationship. Unless," Lanie drooped theatrically, "all this evasion is your way of telling me that sex with Castle wasn't all that exciting, nothing to write home about."

She gaped at Lanie, too surprised to even respond. How could Lanie even imagine that?

"I suppose it's not that surprising," Lanie went on. "There's been so much build-up with all the sexual tension between you two and reality rarely lives up to fantasy. Of course Castle does have a reputation but maybe his reputation is more about his fame and he's really a wham, bam, thank you ma'am sort of guy–"

"He's not!" she blurted out, managing not to choke on a strangled laugh at the phrase and how utterly wrong it was. "He's good–great."

"Great, is he?" Lanie waggled her eyebrows, a satisfied smirk curling her lips.

And she belatedly realized that all of Lanie's seeming rambling speculation about Castle's, um, skills had been a way to goad her, bait her–and she had fallen for it! Like some rookie! She clamped her mouth shut, eyeing Lanie with a disgruntled, not to say petulant, scowl.

Lanie, predictably, didn't look at all fazed, let alone repentant, only smirked some more. "Great, huh," she repeated, drawing the word out. "I don't think I've ever heard you say that about what a man is like in bed which must mean that Castle is quite a bit better than even 'great' would describe." She nodded sagely. "I should have known that a man who can write a sex scene as hot as the one in Heat Wave could not possibly be bad in bed. And after all, the chemistry between you two has always been so intense you gave off enough sparks to light up a room."

Kate's blush felt hot enough to start wildfires in a tundra. "Lanie!"

Lanie subsided with a final smirk and then made a show of straightening out her lips, at least a little. "Fine, fine, I'll give it a break. Although," she couldn't resist adding, "I am your best friend and I feel like the fact that I've had a front row seat to you and Castle dancing around this for the last year should give me some privileges. Come on, Kate, give me something…"

"It's private."

"I wasn't planning on telling anyone else. It's just me here."

Kate huffed but she also knew that Lanie was persistent enough not to give up. A trait that had no doubt served her well in trying to make Kate talk about personal matters but which Kate was having a very hard time appreciating at the moment. "It was… amazing. I think I could become addicted to it, to him," she finally admitted grudgingly, her words barely above a mutter. Understatement since she rather thought she already was addicted to him, to the things he could do to her, but Lanie clearly thought she and Castle would have had sex for the first time only this weekend and Kate was not about to disabuse Lanie of that notion. No one needed to know about her own ill-fated scheme to sleep with Castle just once to get him out of her system. She was no more a fan of having her mistakes broadcast than anyone would be and this one in particular was even more private. Castle knew and she was already sure that he would never forget it, would never let her live it down. (And why she found that she couldn't even feel irritated at the prospect of Castle gloating over it, she didn't know.)

Lanie gave a little crow of glee, all but bouncing in her chair. "Oh boy, Kate Beckett! Now you're talking."

"And that's the last time we're talking about this," Kate added flatly.

"Okay, okay," Lanie agreed with something less than good grace but she did agree. "You and Castle." She clicked her tongue against her cheek. "It really is about damn time."

"You're really not surprised at all about the idea of me and Castle being together?"

Lanie gave her a dry look. "The village idiot would only need to spend 2 minutes around the two of you to sense the magnetism between you."

She tried not to blush again. "I'm not talking about the physical attraction," she managed to sound almost cool, composed–almost. "I just–it doesn't seem weird or something? We're so different."

Now Lanie did sober. "Oh Beckett, don't do this. You and Castle just got together. You should be in the honeymoon period. Only you would still be overthinking things. Why can't you just enjoy the great sex and be happy?"

Lanie had a point, of course. It was a little dispiriting to realize how much of a point but that was just the thing. Kate was no longer some kind of happy-go-lucky carefree person, if she had ever been; in that, she was probably Castle's opposite and that was what worried her. She liked him, cared about him–a lot, more than she cared to admit really–and yes, she wanted to be with him, have a relationship with him. But what if she couldn't be good for him, only ended up bringing him down?

"I know. I just… I don't want to mess this up. And we are different."

"Girl, stop it. Yes, you and Castle have your differences but you're forgetting that you've also worked side by side for a year now until you're at the point of finishing each other's sentences. If that's not a sign of being compatible, I don't know what is. Besides, you already tried dating a carbon copy of yourself when you dated that Fed and look how that turned out."

"My relationship with Will wasn't that bad," she protested automatically. She abruptly remembered what Castle had said about her relationship with Will. Yin yang is harmony; yin yin is the name of a panda. Which was a typically ridiculous Castle-like way of putting it.

Lanie raised an eyebrow. "Not that bad, no, but come on, Kate, I'd think you, the perennial overachiever, would want something better than 'not that bad' when it comes to a relationship."

Kate's lips twisted wryly. "It's not quite the same thing."

"Maybe not," Lanie conceded, "but if you ask me, you and Castle have been working up to this for months and knowing you, this isn't some impulsive decision. So I say you should just lie back and enjoy it–him. Or," she added with a wiggle of her brows, "you could make him lie back while you enjoy him."

Kate flushed but couldn't help her lips from curving a little. "Already done that but yeah, I could do that again."

Lanie gave a crack of laughter. "Damn, girl, that's more like it! Especially because you are definitely overdue for some fun."

"Castle is certainly fun–and not only in the adult sense," she hurriedly added, hoping to forestall Lanie's dirty mind.

Lanie grinned. "I could have guessed that. You–"

Whatever else she'd been about to say was cut off as the server returned with their food and rather to Kate's relief, Lanie was happy enough to stop discussing Kate's personal life and the conversation as they ate drifted into more neutral topics.

Some time later, after the dinner with Lanie was over, Kate was back in her apartment, trying without much success to read a magazine. For what was probably the tenth time in the last half hour, her eyes went to her phone resting on her coffee table, as she hesitated, debated. It was absurd, stupid really, to want to call Castle. She had just seen him a few hours ago at the precinct and she could certainly go more than that without talking to him, especially when she had nothing in particular to say. She just… wanted to hear his voice. She blew out a breath. When had she turned into a teenage girl with a crush? She didn't like it.

And really, if she did call him, he was bound to realize why (he wasn't stupid) and then he would no doubt gloat over it for the next decade or so because she didn't do this kind of thing, call him just to chat with no other reason. The only times she'd called him had been to let him know a body had dropped or because of an idea about a case. Calling just to chat, not so much, especially because she wasn't really someone who liked a lot of idle talk.

She could text him, she supposed. He wouldn't find that so odd. They did tend to text regularly and not always about work–although, admittedly, most of their non-work-related exchanges originated from him. Castle was the one who had a tendency to send her random texts when they didn't see each other, comments on things he saw or something Alexis said, sending pictures of things he saw that amused him or made him think of her. A few times he'd texted asking for her opinion on some predicament or scheme he had planned for Nikki and Rook.

She reached out, picking up her phone, but before she'd really made up her mind what she was going to do–what excuse she would use for contacting him–a knock sounded on her door, making her startle a little. And she really didn't know how–it was entirely irrational–but somehow, she knew, just from the sound of his knock, who it was, a little tingle of anticipation zipping through her.

Of course, being a cop, she still checked through the peephole–it was him–and she sternly bit back a smile, pasted on as calm an expression as she could manage before she opened the door. "Castle, what are you doing here?"

He didn't bother with a greeting. "I missed you. And my mother came home so she's with Alexis now so I thought…" he shrugged a little as he trailed off. "Can I come in?"

She didn't bother answering in words, only stepped forward, her hand coming up to curl around the back of his neck and pulling him in to kiss him.

He surged forward, his lips crashing down on hers, his arms closing around her with enough force it almost pushed the breath from her body. She was only distantly aware of him kicking the door shut behind him–oh good, they were alone–but was otherwise entirely focused on him, practically climbing his body, her fingers in his hair, her tongue invading his mouth.

They stumbled backwards blindly, his hands groping, sliding up her waist until he cupped her breasts over her shirt and her head fell back on a gasp, breaking their kiss. He took advantage by fastening his lips to her chin, sucking, nipping, along the line of her chin and down her neck. And all the while, his hands squeezed, kneaded, her breasts, sending fire shooting down her nerve endings.

She'd thought, assumed, they were heading to her bedroom but honestly wasn't paying attention until the back of her legs hit her couch and she fell back onto it, bringing him down with her. He landed on her a little awkwardly, pushing a grunt from her and a huff from him. The couch worked too; it was a flat surface and with the feel of him above her, trying to get up and move again seemed to take too much effort, would be a distraction. He pushed himself up, his hands sliding under her shirt. She helped, tugging her shirt up and over her head tossing it aside in one smooth motion.

She hadn't planned this so she was only wearing a plain bra but he didn't seem to find anything lacking, one of his hands immediately cupping her breast, at first over her bra, and then pushing her bra aside to lift her breast out of it. His lips closed over her nipple, licking, sucking, then grazing it with his teeth, while his hand paid attention to her other breast.

She gasped and panted, arching towards him, arrows of heat shooting straight from her nipples to her core. Oh god, she really didn't know how it was that from the first time, he seemed to know exactly how to touch her, just the right amount of pressure to use while suckling her breasts.

The cloth of his shirt was slightly abrasive against her sensitized skin and she slid her hands up over his back and shoulders until she could start on the buttons of his shirt. The position was awkward, with his arms getting in the way, and her fingers were not at their most coordinated but he–thankfully–noticed and decided to help her, rearing up just enough so he could make quick work of his own shirt.

Mm, god, yes, she had missed this, missed the sight of him, his broad shoulders, the bulk of him. She pulled him back down on top of her, kissing him again, enjoying the feel of her breasts pressed against his solid strength. His hands slid down her waist, found the fastening of her pants, and undid them, pushing her pants down. She helped, her hips lifting, allowing him to push both her pants and her soaked panties down her legs. Her pants were tight enough that he struggled a little to get them all the way off her and she made a sound that was an odd combination of a laugh and a moan of anticipation, as she helped him tug her pants and panties past her ankles and all the way off, leaving her entirely naked.

For a long moment, he just sat back and stared at her, his eyes roaming over her almost as if this was his first time seeing her, as if she'd been spread out before him like some sort of feast–and from the look on his face, one he fully intended to devour. She panted, fresh heat flooding her, just at the thought.

"God, you are so gorgeous," he husked. First his hands followed by his mouth began to explore, his fingers tracing the curve of her breast before palming them and then sliding down her stomach as his mouth replaced his hands on her breast, licking her cleavage, and then closing his mouth over her nipple, making her groan and arch further into the wet heat of his mouth.

"I used to imagine what you would look like," he murmured against her skin, punctuating his words with a kiss, a lick, the barely-there graze of his teeth. "Tried to imagine every curve." His mouth moved on leaving a trail of kisses down her stomach, his hands tracing the curve of her hips. "But nothing I pictured came even close to the reality of you, the feel of you."

A little shiver of sensation streaked through her at the feel of his hot breath against her skin, the sound of his voice that seemed to sink into her skin, pool between her legs. He might have been holding back before, not allowing himself to use the words she knew he had. His words, his voice, were winding her up even more.

His teeth nipped ever so lightly at the curve of her hip, nuzzling her outer thighs so she could feel the faint rasp of his evening stubble against the sensitive skin, making her gasp. He placed soft, oddly tender, kisses to the inside of each thigh, pausing in between for just long enough that she could feel his breath against the hot center of her.

"Cas-sle," she moaned, her hips writhing.

"Kate," he returned quietly. Just her name, as if even he had run out of words.

And then his mouth was on her, starting with a long, slow lick straight up her center, and she cried out, her whole body shuddering. Ohgodohgodohyes. She shut her eyes against the onslaught of sensation, forgetting everything except for the press and slid of his lips, the workings of his tongue, the slight graze of his teeth. And then he slipped one familiar finger inside her, his mouth pressing against her just right, and she was gone, shattering against his mouth with a breathless cry.

She drifted back to reality to find him lightly caressing her hips and thighs, dropping feather-light kisses on her skin.

"I will never get enough of that," he murmured against her thigh.

Mm, neither would she.

She managed to force her eyes open, her hands reaching for him, pulling him up and towards her until she could kiss him, moaning a little deep in her throat as she tasted herself on his tongue.

"Bed," she managed to mumble against his cheek. She met his eyes. "Take me to bed."

He kissed her again, softly, and then pushed himself upright and onto his feet, pulling her up after him.

Her legs felt decidedly weak but she managed to stand, leaning into him.

He wrapped one arm around her waist. "Okay to walk?"

At any other time, she would have demolished him for the arrogant assumption but she was too sated–and fine, yes, too shaky–to muster up even any annoyance. She only huffed a little. "I'll manage."

She did, with his help, as neither of them were at all inclined to let go of the other and they half-stumbled towards her bedroom, exchanging kisses and caresses as they went.

Once inside her bedroom, she wasn't sure she'd ever been so happy to fall onto her bed, pushing the covers out of the way, and then turned to glance back at him. "Pants off."

"You're very bossy," he observed, his lips quirking, but he did as she asked, quickly divesting himself of his pants and his boxers, until he too was finally–wonderfully–naked.

She felt a little shiver of anticipation, more, of emotion, shimmer through her. Mine. She wanted him, all of him, the solid strength of him, and here he was, in her bed and all hers.

She slid her hand behind his neck and pulled him towards her where he came willingly, crawling over her.

It was her turn to explore and appreciate him. She didn't have the words, not like he did, but she let her hands communicate for her how much she liked the breadth of his shoulders, the muscles of his arms, his chest. She kissed her way across his chest much as he had to her, licking his flat nipple and then lightly nipping it with her teeth, making him growl and jerk a little.

She moved on, touching the hot, hard length of him, stroking him lightly at first, and then with more pressure, pumping up and down until he grabbed her wrist. "No more," he gritted out. "Protection?"

She turned, twisting to reach into her nightstand. She hadn't had a chance yet to make sure she was stocked but then–thankfully–her fingers closed over a flat foil-wrapped package.

Both previous times, she'd made a point of being on top, wanting to retain control, wanting to make sure the act didn't turn into some sort of slow, gentle lovemaking. This time, once he'd finished sheathing himself, she pulled him down on top of her, the heat of him brushing up against her core, almost but not quite where she needed him.

"Now, Castle," she panted.

"Yes," he mumbled and then he slid inside her, sank into her in one slow, smooth stroke. She groaned. Oh god yes, this was what she wanted, what she'd missed, the heat of him, the hardness of him, filling her, stretching her. She tilted her hips up to meet him, the change in position just enough to have him sinking just the slightest bit further, and they both groaned. Mmm, she'd always thought she preferred being on top, giving her the ability to set the pace, but she might have to change her mind on that because right now, his having greater leverage, allowed him to penetrate deeper than she thought she'd ever felt and it was amazing.

He began to move, sliding almost all the way out and then back again, deep, slow, steady strokes that caused her breath to fracture. She met and matched his movements with the ease that was still a little terrifying–how could this already feel so right? As if she'd been made to do this with him and he'd been made to do this with her?

"Oh God," she gasped against his mouth as he bent to kiss her, long and deep. One of his hands closed over hers, lacing their fingers together, as his mouth moved to scatter kisses along her chin and down her neck.

She panted for breath, her hips and legs trying to pull him closer, deeper, her whole body tingling with sensation rippling out from the core of her until she was trembling.

And then he did something, a twist, a change of angle, she didn't know what, and the building wave of pleasure erupted, surges of bliss cascading through her in waves that seemed never-ending, stars bursting behind her eyelids.

Dimly she felt him jerking and stroking into her again, one last time, as he groaned her name against her neck.

He slumped on top of her, pushing what little breath she had from her lungs, and she slid one arm around him, keeping him above her, not that he showed any signs of moving. She belatedly registered that they were still holding hands–and it felt strangely… intimate. She tucked the thought away for later, when she could think. For now, she could only feel, savoring the heat of him, the weight of him, above her, surrounding her.

"Kate," he mumbled.

"Mm," was all she managed in response.

After a long minute, with a movement as ponderous as if he were trying to shift a boulder, he shifted, easing himself out of her, and pushed himself onto his back. The change in their positions necessitated their hands untangling but he immediately wrapped his arm around her, bringing her in against him.

She felt him turn his head to brush his lips against her hair as she settled her head against his shoulder, one of her hands resting on his chest almost to his other shoulder, her arm almost but not quite around him. He tightened his arm around her in response.

She wasn't entirely sure how long they lay there, long enough for their breaths to steady, the sweat on their skins to cool, and then he gently moved to disentangle himself. "I should…" he made a vague gesture with one hand to indicate cleaning himself up.

She released him, a little surprised at the reluctance she felt, but then settled back to watch him as he retreated into the bathroom and then emerged again. She would not have thought it possible, considering how sated she was, but just seeing him like that, unabashedly naked in her bedroom, had fresh tendrils of heat curling inside her.

He noticed her watching–of course he did–and smirked a little but for once in his life, didn't comment as he rejoined her in her bed, reaching out to settle her against him again. She went willingly, once again nestling her head on his shoulder, and this time–oh, why not–she slid her arm around his chest. She liked this closeness, this cuddling. She wasn't sure how long this phase would last-she'd never been one for cuddling before–but she might as well enjoy it while it did.

He made a small sound of pleasure deep in his throat that she felt against her ear more than heard. His hand idly caressed her upper back, her shoulder, almost petting her and the thought drifted into her mind that she could understand why cats purred. At that moment, she couldn't imagine ever wanting to move again.

"Can you stay?" she murmured after a few minutes.

"Yeah, my mother's at home with Alexis."

"Mm, 'kay." Her rush of relief, of gladness, at this assurance surprised her a little. It could just be about wanting more sex but it wasn't only that. He would stay the night. She could stay like this, in his arms, warm and relaxed and cosseted.

The thought drifted into her mind, what she'd said to Lanie earlier about becoming addicted to sex with Castle. Which was true, she rather thought she already was addicted to that, the workings of his hands and his mouth and his tongue and his–well, everything about him. But more than that, she was beginning to think she could become addicted to this part too, curling against his body, surrounded by his warmth and his strength.

Almost as if he'd sensed her thought–which was absurd–he broke the silence by asking, "So how'd Lanie react?"

"Very smugly. She said it was, and I quote, about damn time."

He gave a hoot of laughter. "That sounds like her. I knew Lanie was on my side."

She lifted her head a little to look at him. "There are sides now?"

"Uh, if there are, you and I are on the same one."

She managed to keep her lips straight. "Nice save."

"Did Lanie say anything else?"

Partly in revenge but mostly just to tease, she went on in spurious innocence, "She also wanted to know if you were a 'wham, bam, thank you, ma'am' kind of guy."

He choked on air and then coughed before he managed to control himself. "And what did you tell her?" He raised his eyebrows at her, a smirk tugging on his lips.

"I told her it was private," she answered primly. Since she had absolutely no intention of playing to Castle's ego.

"And she left it at that?" He bent a skeptical look on her.

Of course he knew Lanie was not the type to give up that easily. "Very reluctantly but eventually, yes." It wasn't entirely false.

He smirked, his eyebrows wiggling. "Well, we're private now so, tell me, what would my report card look like?"

She pasted on an expression of exaggerated thought. "I don't know," she drawled, "but if I had to give you a grade, I'd give you a B, maybe a B+."

He reared up. "A B?!" he yelped and she sternly bit back a laugh. He stopped, his eyes narrowing on her face. "You're messing with me, aren't you." He huffed. "That was mean."

"Why ask if you don't want to know the answer?" she managed to sound only mildly curious, her expression sober.

"Okay, that does it. I can't have you casting aspersions on my prowess," he declared, rolling over and trapping her neatly beneath him.

Oh, mm, yes, that already felt nice. She would have scoffed but could only suck in a small breath, sparks of anticipation streaking through her, even before he'd done anything more, arousal already beginning to pool between her legs. The feel of him, solid and strong, above her, the part of his body that was rapidly coming to life against her thigh…

"I think," he began slowly, his fingers trailing across her clavicle and then down, "I'll make you give me an A+." His fingers brushed over her already peaked nipple.

"Well, I do admire ambition," she managed, although her attempt to play it cool was belied by her breathless tone.

"Let's see what else you might admire, shall we?" he murmured, his voice slipping into that husky tone that seemed to feather across her nerve endings.

His hand was still caressing, playing with one breast, and then he lowered his mouth to her other breast and she gasped, arching into him.

And her last coherent thought for quite some time was that teasing him was so much more fun now.

~To be continued…~

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