The Possibility of Magic

A/N: I was heavily inspired by TrinityEverett's series of Castle one-shots and decided I'd like to try my own! The longer ones will be posted separately, but the shorter ones will be posted here. (And if you haven't read them, you're seriously missing out! Called As The Story Goes on AO3!)

The title is taken directly from one of my favorite Castle quotes: "If you don't believe in even the possibility of magic, you'll never ever find it." Season 3, Episode 2.

And lastly, this first one is inspired by a very funny conversation I had with a friend, regarding why the hell Kate wears such a hideous scarf in 5x11. Enjoy!

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"It's really not that noticeable," Castle swore, standing behind a fuming Beckett in the bathroom. He was watching her in the mirror, biting his lip to keep from laughing as she prodded at her neck, running her fingers along the purple, bruised flesh. Her face was shifting so quickly between shock, horror, and fury, it was giving him whiplash.

He couldn't laugh. He couldn't laugh.

There was a gun around here somewhere - he couldn't allow himself to laugh.

"Are you serious, Castle?" she all but shrieked, and met his gaze in the mirror. "What are we, fifteen?"

"Hey! It's not totally my fault!"

Wrong thing to say. Absolute wrong thing to say.

(It didn't matter that she'd been the one to crawl into his lap after the movie last night. That she'd been the one to bite first, dragging her mouth over his jaw. What was he supposed to have done?!)

Beckett whirled, her cheeks bright pink and eyes wide in accusation. "So, what, I just gave myself this hickey?!"

He grimaced, pressing his knuckles to his mouth. "Well, no, but–"

"We have a case to solve, Castle! I have to go to work like this!" She advanced on him, sticking a finger into his chest. He took a step back, then another, before his back bumped against the wall. He was trapped.

"Just, I don't know, put some makeup on it!"

"And risk it rubbing off? What if Gates sees it?" Beckett paled, pressing her palm to her forehead. "Or worse. Ryan and Esposito will never let me live this down."

Castle couldn't help it – he rolled his eyes. "Now, aren't you being a little dramatic?"

Her eyes narrowed to slits.

Whoops.

God, when would he learn to shut his damn mouth?

"Look, what I meant was…" He placed his hands on either shoulder, trying to ground her. "It's just a hickey. It's not something they haven't seen before."

"They certainly haven't on me," she hissed in return, her jaw clenched tight. "We have to leave any minute now. How do you expect me to go out in public looking like this?"

Castle supposed it was a valid question. One that, if he valued his relationship with Beckett, which he did, he'd need to consider carefully.

And then, he got an idea. It was winter. And they'd stayed the night at his loft. The loft Castle shared with his mother.

His eyes traveled down to Beckett's royal blue sweater. His mother had a scarf somewhere in her closet; one close to the same color blue. He knew this because he'd been the one to gift it to her.

He grinned. "I know just the thing."