Objects in Motion

A round robin story written, chapter by chapter, by these authors:

bravevulnerability, chezchuckles, ColieMacKenzie, darkhours, encantadaa, griever11, jstar1382, narvanator, socasuallycruel, supermandy77, & The-KLF

Castle frowned into the bedroom.

Beckett sighed at him and shrugged. "I don't know."

"You're an amazing detective, Kate, and there's nothing wrong with staying right where you are," he told her again. He kneeled down and lifted the edge of the comforter, but it wasn't there either.

He had just found the stupid thing. Where had he hidden it?

"But there has to be more," she muttered. She was pacing away from him, shedding her clothes as she went.

He lifted his head, distracted from his search. "More what?"

"More to my life. My mother's murder sucked up everything - my ambition, my drive, my purpose - and now what, Castle? I got nothing."

He puffed out his chest and scrambled to his feet, indignant. "Hey, now."

She turned over her shoulder, apology in the twist of her mouth, but she said nothing. Only tossed her bra his direction so that it smacked him in the face.

He inhaled softly (cherries) and smiled, dragged the lace edge away from his eyes. "Nice."

"I knew you'd like that."

"So pick one, Kate. Captain. Senator. Just pick one and give it all the same dedication you gave your mother's case. Barring that whole tendency to throw your life into the maws of death aspect."

She gave him a sour look and disappeared inside the closet.

Ipad. Where was that stupid thing? He had found it and then she'd come up on him suddenly and he hadn't wanted her to see...

"It's not that easy, Castle," she called from the closet, reappearing in boxer shorts and a sleep shirt that fell off one shoulder. "It's not 'oh, I think I'll be a Captain today.' It's - do I want to?"

"Do you?"

She opened her mouth, said nothing, just gaped at him.

He shrugged. "You can always stay a detective. There is nothing lacking about you, Kate. Nothing. You're gorgeously talented and you have a compassionate heart for victims. You fought for that job when you thought it was on the line."

She sighed and waved her hand at him like he just didn't understand. "What are you looking for anyway?" she said, walking towards the bathroom.

Castle edged out towards the bedroom door, hoping to spot it in his office. "My - uh - iPad. That's all."

"Check the living room. Thought I saw it in there."

He escaped with a low breath, jogging towards the living room just so she couldn't question him further. Castle finally spied the edge of the iPad peeking out of the corner of the couch cushion, and he made a beeline towards the black leather case. He snagged it between his finger and thumb.

"Ha," he crowed, drawing it towards his chest. "Got you now."

Castle paged through the photos, expectant and triumphant, and then he found it.

"Kate!" he bellowed, heading back through the office and barreling into their bedroom.

She poked her head out from the bathroom, the tips of her fingers covered in face cream, her forehead painted in a thin layer. She must have immediately figured it out. "Oh, no," she groaned. "You still have it."

"And I have managed to recover the most amazing evidence of your endless talent."

"You look entirely too pleased," she muttered, disappearing back into the bathroom, her hands covering her face.

Not in shame, but merely smearing the white cream along her cheeks and chin. He wrinkled his nose and glanced down at the treasure in his arms, dragging his finger across the screen to look at the photos he'd taken years ago.

"Priceless," he sighed, one after another. "Breath-taking."

Beckett singing karaoke at the Old Haunt that first night he'd bought the place. He'd had his iPad with him to send photos to the contractor, he'd started messing around, and he'd taken photo after photo until-

"Oh, God, no," she groaned from the bathroom. "Do not play that."

Beckett's voice came from the tinny speakers, made even worse by his old, first-generation iPad's poor quality recording.

But still alluring, still sultry, and it was doing the same thing to him now that it had then.

Entirely aroused.

"Castle," she complained, coming swiftly out of the bathroom. Her face had been washed cleaned of all make-up, completely devoid of artifice, while her hair was pulled back in a knot at the back of her neck.

He was arrested by the sight of her, the plain naturalness, the dark circles under her eyes and the mottled freckles and age spots across her nose and cheeks. Her lashes looked thin, her lips thinner, and she was frowning at him.

And he was so thoroughly captivated that he let the iPad leave his fingers as she grabbed for it, completely without a fight.

Beckett ended the video, stabbed her finger at the trash icon. He came back to his senses and snatched it out of her hands, hiding it behind his back even though she'd said time and again she'd do something violent to him if he didn't delete that video.

"Castle."

He reached out and touched the faint wisp of hair that had come free of her bun. The strand cracked with face cream that had dried. His smile grew wider. "You look like you've come fresh from the beach." He crimped her hair in his finger and Kate lifted her gaze to his, going still.

"The beach?" she murmured.

"Washed clean. Summer."

"Washed all my make-up off." She shrugged at him. "And seriously, where did you find the iPad? I thought it was long gone."

"Found it in the ottoman with the blankets. And then I hid it in the couch so you wouldn't find it." He waggled his eyebrows at her, but he was still arrested by the pale moon of her face. "I like this look."

"You like this-" Kate lifted an eyebrow. "No make-up. You like it. I look tired, Castle. My-"

"You look like you've had a wonderful day at the beach, exhausting fun. And happy."

She slid her arms around his neck, stepping into him. "That's very sweet," she whispered. "But I'm not leaving the house without make-up, Castle."

"You should, though," he sighed. "Or, no, I mean, you could. You could and you'd be a different kind of beautiful."

"Different kind of beautiful," she echoed, quirk in her lips. "You certainly have a way with words."

He shrugged, laid the iPad down on the bed, angling her away from it just in case. "Let's go anyway. To the beach. No make-up. No hair products. What do you say?"

"You're volunteering to give up your hair products?"

"You don't have to sound so shocked," he muttered.

Kate laughed and released his neck, and then suddenly she was darting around him and snatching up the iPad, chortling her glee as she raced away from him. Castle charged after her but she got the mattress between them, and her fingers were poised over the delete button - he just knew it.

"Ka-ate," he cajoled. "It's my favorite video of all time."

"Whiny baby. I hate this video. You promised me back then - swore to me - that you deleted it. All lies. Filthy, terrible-"

"Please." He pouted and yet he was inching his foot slowly over the rug, getting himself in position. "I was so honored to have been given a glimpse into the Beckett mystique."

"With great power comes great responsibility," she shot back. "You should have never kept this. Horrible violation of my trust."

Castle lunged across the bed and captured the iPad, practically wrestling it from her fingers. She growled and hip-checked him, and Castle went sprawling stomach-first to the bed with Kate jumping on top of him.

He groaned, theatrically and then not-so-theatrically when she got a knee in his liver. He swiped back at her, but she danced away, using his spine as her springboard. Castle kept the iPad against his chest, trying not to crush it and accidentally delete something precious.

"Okay, okay," Kate huffed on top of him. "Truce. Calling a truce."

"No truce," he yelled back.

She flinched and twisted his ear; he jerked and elbowed her.

"Deal, then," she said. "Make me a deal."

"Beach for the iPad," he said quickly. There was always the Cloud, right? Surely it was in the Cloud. That was a real thing. "Go with me to the beach - no make-up, no hair products, no artifice, no heels - and it's all yours."

"No heels. How long?" she hedged.

"Long weekend," he shot back, feeling he was on the cusp of victory. "Four days at least."

Kate bounced hard into his back and rolled off of him, sprawled on the bed with her chest rising and falling appealingly. "Deal," she panted, lying beside him. "No make-up. But you can't shave."

"Can't shave," he grumped, but she wagged a finger in his face. He snagged her finger with his teeth and she giggled.

She giggled.

"Won't shave," he promised, kissing her finger. Anything. At all. Ever. For that giggle, for the plainness on her face, the trust in her eyes as she agreed to a little vacation.

"Then beach it is," she whispered, lifting her head to press a kiss to his mouth. He felt the iPad sliding slowly out from his crooked arm, but he let her have it.

Kate with no make-up, no badge, no heels, no beautiful dresses or hairspray or any of the daily things he barely saw her without. She even wore her make-up to bed some nights, most nights, when work went long.

She was beautiful, but he wanted to see all of her. No masks.

And he had the feeling a weekend being so free from the world just might jostle her out of her indecision.