Chapter 1

"Why are we doing this?" Castle whined.

"Because you" – he heard you complete freaking idiot – "said that you needed more PR for the latest Nikki Heat book and somehow you dragged me into it."

"I didn't have to do much dragging," Castle smirked. "I just had to...um...mention the excellent opportunity to Montgomery" –

"Shut up or I'll shoot you. You had no right to suborn Montgomery."

"No suborning required. He was delighted to help."

Beckett muttered something blackly under her breath and stared round with a nuclear-level glare that should have incinerated every atom within a thousand-yard radius.

"Anyway, this was your fault and when we finish you are going to owe me big time. I never ever ever wanted to be in any freaking photoshoot and I'll be the laughingstock of the precinct for months."

Castle didn't think laughingstock was what Beckett would be. More...um...pin-up. Even – or possibly especially – when furious she was gorgeous, and he knew she'd done a bit of modelling previously, so... really, he couldn't lose here. And he'd have a set of the pictures for his very own. If he couldn't have the real thing – and she was as unobtainable as ever, which was just not fair – then at least he'd have some really good pictures. Inspiration.

On the other hand, and also the reason why he was whining, he didn't like the assessing looks he was being given. He felt judged, and found ever so slightly wanting.

"Okay," the photographer said. "Let's get this set up. Now, Mr Castle" –

"Call me Rick."

"Sure. I'm Andy. Your PR agent said that this was to add interest to the Nikki Heat book – I loved it, by the way" – Castle abruptly became very much happier – "by showing Nikki and Rook in various settings. Helps your readers to visualise them." Castle started to pout. "But this'll be really simple. The description in the books was so clear, that it's really just a reminder. More about the settings than the characters." The pout disappeared.

"Hang on a minute," Beckett snapped. "Various settings? Exactly what settings?"

"Settings from the books."

"Like what?"

"The precinct, Nikki at home, that sort of thing."

Beckett made a face. "Seriously?"

"All your outfits are in that room."

"Don't even think about it," she rapped, without even looking. Castle's feet stopped sneaking in that direction.

"Yours are in that room," Andy said to Castle. It was on the opposite side of the studio.

"Outfits?"

"Yeah. I mean, what you're wearing is fine, but only for one set. You don't wear the same clothes every day, so we need a few outfits. Rook's a stylish guy, according to you."

"He is."

"So we needed a few stylish outfits."

"Are you saying my outfits aren't appropriate?" Beckett interrupted.

"No, but same thing. You've got one outfit on." Andy looked her up and down. "It's good, but it's just one thing. Don't you get changed when you get home, relax a bit?"

"You never go home," Castle muttered.

Beckett glared. "Yes," she said defiantly and untruthfully. If she had gone home then she would have gotten changed.

"Okay, so Nikki would too. Go have a look at the outfits, and then we'll start to play around with the set."

"You're not coming," Beckett snipped at Castle. "Go look at your own dressing up box."

"Oooohhhh. I love playing dress-up. Of course, I usually play it in reverse – OW!"

Beckett stalked off, leaving Castle with an exceedingly painful ear. Andy grinned at him.

"Feisty, isn't she?"

"Wait till you see what she does if she doesn't like the outfits you chose. She carries a gun, you know."

Andy actually went a little pale, which Castle found exceedingly satisfying.

Beckett shut the door of the changing room very firmly behind her and considered the rail on which a variety of outfits were hanging. Not that she would admit it to Castle (or indeed anyone else), but she liked nice clothes and on her rare days off she liked both wearing them and seeking them out: haunting the discount designer stores with enthusiasm. Of course, Castle might well have spotted her designer collection, since he seemed to spot absolutely everything about her including all the things she'd much rather he didn't spot, but he'd never guess where she bought it and he certainly wouldn't get to help her choose it – what? That was an insane thought. Of course he wouldn't. Why on earth did she need to tell herself that?

Anyway, here was a rack of nice looking clothes, just begging her to play with them. She began to get acquainted. Mmmm. Trench coat, beige. Perfect for detectives. Dark jacket and wide pants...seriously badass. Huge roll-neck sweater – ooohhhhh, and it was so soft – oh, yes. If she were ever home, she'd snuggle into this with a book and ice cream and it would be cosy and wonderful. Another long coat: darker and heavier. Black crop top...that'd make Castle swallow his tongue – what? No no no. He wouldn't be seeing it. Little black dress – that'd be a bit low cut... he'd die on the spot.

Oh. Oh, oh, ohhhhhh. White, floaty, summer dress. Ethereal and sexy at once. Ohhhhhhhh. Mine!, her head and heart pleaded in unison. It might fit in her purse if she squished it right down to tiny. Surely nobody would notice it missing? Reluctantly, she remembered that she was a cop and supposed to uphold the law, not break it. She still looked longingly at the dress.

Unfortunately, her delight at the clothes was punctured by the memory that the only reason she was looking at them was because of the thrice-damned photoshoot. Nikki? Various scenarios? Yeah. She could just imagine what scenarios Castle would want. Page 105, she just bet. Well, no way. Montgomery's orders didn't cover that. Nope, nope, nope. She firmly ignored the little curl of warmth in her stomach, which had no business curling at all, and stalked back out.

Castle had gone into his dressing room, riffled along the rack of sharp clothes and cotton shirts in various shades of blue, purple and a deep red which, when held up to the mirror, was surprisingly effective at emphasising his eyes; and had been very satisfied. He spent a little time daydreaming about various scenarios which he would like to enact – with Beckett and very firmly without the photographer or indeed anyone, or anywhere other than his own bedroom. Of course, the chances of that happening were nil. Beckett was irritatingly able to ignore the undoubted spark between them.

It was simply not fair. He knew she was interested. She teased him and even flirted and definitely got him all wound up – and then she strutted off and left him hopelessly aroused and very frustrated and because he was, despite everything, a good man, all he could do was go home and write. His private directory was overflowing. And it wasn't even that she was deliberately leaving him hanging, because she bantered with everyone – and boy oh boy could Ryan blush. He ambled back out, to see what was going on.

What was going on, he found, was an – er – animated discussion about the appropriate dress for bullpen and/or crime scene settings. Andy (dumb man) wanted dresses. Beckett was currently enlightening his ignorance, and only the absence of a circular saw was preventing her doing so by exposing his brain to the studio lights.

"Of course I don't wear a skirt to a crime scene. Totally inappropriate. Pants or jeans, sure."

"But what if you came from an evening out?"

There was a pause, into which Castle inserted the mental sentence Beckett doesn't have evenings out.

"I'd change at the precinct. I keep a set of clothes there."

Andy made a disappointed face. Beckett rolled her eyes.

"I guess we'll just have to do a series of non-work settings, then."

Castle perked up.

"Like what?" Beckett asked very suspiciously.

"A dinner, a bar, Nikki at home after work."

"Okay..."

"Let's get started, then. This is what you wear for work, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. We'll start with the precinct. Rick, are you ready?"

"Uh?"

"Precinct shots. Is that what you normally wear?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. We can switch you around more easily. You happy to start with that?"

"Sure."

Andy started to shoot. Fairly shortly, he sent Beckett off to change into the dark pants and jacket.

"I'm not getting the chemistry between them here," Andy said. "Can't you get a bit closer? There's supposed to be a spark. Lean in."

"She won't like it."

"But it'll open up some emotions. Both of you are, um, null. I need something – annoyance, lust, whatever. Just something. So lean in so we start getting something, or this is gonna be useless."

Castle thought that if he leant in on Beckett and she took exception – which she would – some parts of him would be useless. If he were lucky, it would be his nose or ear. If he were unlucky... he crossed his legs protectively. On the other hand, there had been that occasion on the Hallowe'en case... and he wasn't dead yet. If the boys hadn't interrupted, in fact... He could quite cheerfully have consigned them to Hallowe'en Hell.

Beckett came back out dressed in a dark jacket and wide-legged pants, though regrettably she appeared still to have a white shirt underneath. It would have been much more interesting if she had forgotten the shirt. That glimpse of bra...mmmmmmm.

"Okay, let's go."

Beckett sat down at the desk, gun there beside her – she'd squawked about that, but Andy had insisted – shield shining on the jacket. Castle, as requested, leaned over her, considerably closer than in the first set of shots.

Exactly as predicted, Beckett's ire instantly rose, as did the rate of shots. She flicked round, and Castle found her almost – almost – irresistibly close.

"Give me some room," she demanded. Andy kept shooting. "Move back."

Andy tipped Castle a go-with-it nod, and he moved back. "Great," the photographer said. "Okay, Detective, let's move on to Nikki at home after a frustrating day. You're right in the zone for that. We'll start with a few shots of you stalking out, just dressed like you are, then pick something that you'd wear to chill at home."

"Oooohhh," Castle flipped at her. "We could do Netflix and chill."

"Shut up, or be shot for real." Beckett stalked – it wasn't quite stormed, but it was certainly close – out again: Andy snapping all the way.

"That's much better," he said happily. His minions changed the set over to include a comfortable couch and arranged screens and props to give the impression of an apartment, while Castle rapidly changed to a white t-shirt and black leather jacket, casually suave and sexy.

Beckett slinked back out in a long, grey, roll neck sweater that covered up every enticing curve but exposed several miles of legs. Castle gulped. Andy took one fast glance and started shooting without pausing. She prowled over to the couch, folded elegantly on to it, and then positively snuggled into the cushions and the sweater, pouting adorably over the roll neck and then pulling it up so that she was peeking out over the rim.

He would never, ever have believed that Beckett could be so cute. Not a Beckett at all: and he wondered if this was a Kate: a kittenish, cute, cuddly Kate. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and pet her: drop kisses on her head and stroke her hair; wrap her in and never let her go.

And then kiss his way up those amazingly wonderful legs and not stop till he reached the top and she purred.

He met her eyes, allowing her to see a little of his scorching thoughts, and a fine line of colour bloomed on her cheekbones as her eyelashes swept down and over her – oh wow. Over her eyes, suddenly green and flecked with gold, wide-pupilled.

"Okay, so Rick, Rook's just arrived at her apartment. Go in."

"But..."

"What?"

"Um...is this before or after they, um, get together?"

"Before," Beckett snapped. Andy blinked. Castle smirked. Now he knew Beckett was on edge.

"Whatever," he said, and walked over to the couch.

"You're not snuggling up to me," Beckett growled.

"Aww. But no, I'm not," Castle said, sitting right next to her. "I'm snuggling with that sweater." He stroked down her arm. "It's gorgeous. Soft and fluffy and pettable."

"If Rook tried that on Nikki she'd shoot him."

"How lucky you left your gun in the dressing room, then. I'm all for realism, but not that much realism."

Beckett shoved at him. Castle smirked. "See, Rook doesn't like being pushed around. So he's not moving."

"You're not Rook. Move."

"For this purpose, I am Rook. So no, not moving." His smirk widened. Beckett scowled. "He likes the sweater."

"This is dumb. It's not even in the book."

"How do you know? It hasn't been released yet."

"I went to the launch party!"

"Book Two, Beckett. It's a series. And they got together in Book One, so I can snuggle if I want."

"What the hell? More of them?"

"You know there are. You were there when I got the call! Roy told you all about it." He pouted. "And then you twisted my ear practically off which was totally not nice. You're never nice to me."

"Why should I be?"

"I solve cases."

"No, you come up with dumb insane crazy theories that waste my time."

"Do not. You love my theorising. It's like sex with all our clothes on."

"If you think that's anything like sex you're doing it wrong."

"Oh? Wanna show me how to do it right?"

Beckett spluttered and fulminated and didn't manage a single coherent word. Castle sat and looked smug, until she stormed off the couch to her dressing room, slamming its flimsy door.

"Change again," Andy said to him, and off he went to find a dark shirt, but he kept the leather jacket.

In the dressing room Beckett was relieving her fury by swearing viciously at the wall, mostly under her breath. She dressed in her own clothes, and put the beige trench coat over them. She wasn't going to participate in any situation that might give Castle any more ammunition for comments like the last one.

"You can take more shots in work situations," she said flatly.

"Won't work, Beckett."

"Why not?"

"Because whether you like it or not they are together and they do go on dates. So there have to be a few shots of dates."

"What the" –

"Montgomery cleared it..." Castle said meaningfully. He specifically didn't say that Nikki and Rook were going on dates in Book Two, because if they were, he hadn't written it yet. A little inspiration would be helpful. "You'd better change into something suitable for a date."

Beckett scowled so blackly a passing thundercloud ran for cover, and then stormed back to her dressing room.

"Living dangerously," Andy noted idly.

Castle merely grinned. "She won't shoot me."

"You sure about that? She looks pretty fired up to me."

"She likes me really."

In the disbelieving silence that followed that statement of the blindingly not obvious, Beckett stalked back out, high heels clicking menacingly. Castle should have cowered, but he was too busy retrieving his eyebrows from the ceiling and his jaw and tongue from the floor. He simply stared. And stared. And stared.

It was black. It was fitted. And it was absolutely clear that there was no bra under it because it was slipping off one shoulder and all that glorious creamy skin was gleaming and he –

"Get back."

Oh. He'd not even noticed that he'd moved.

"Get. Back."

He didn't move. His eyes roamed from toes to messed up hair. "Wow. Wow. This is a million times better than that blue dress."

Her eyes flashed. "Like it, do you?" she purred, and the fire in her eyes wasn't only anger.

"So much." He took another step forward.

"Stop."

"Nikki and Rook are going on a date. People don't walk four feet apart on a date – or you're dating the wrong people."

"They've had a fight. They're not going on a date."

"Had a fight, hm? Then they're going to have hot make up sex. It's what they do."

"It is not!"

"My characters. I know them inside out."

"You based them on us and I don't have hot make up sex with you when we fight."

"You could do. It would be a lot more fun than coffee." He smirked. "You should try it. You might even like it."

"Not likely."

"How do you know?" he taunted. "You've never tried it."

"And I'm not going to."

The expression on Castle's face simply screamed liar! He moved the final two steps to be next to Beckett, smiled sweetly, and waited. In the background, Andy kept shooting and tried not to laugh as Beckett took a stride, Castle followed her, and the net effect was a delicate waltz around the studio.

"Stop being so silly," he complained.

"You're the one being dumb here. I didn't want to do this in the first place and I'm only doing it because I was ordered. Well, I can't be ordered to date someone so you can all just shove that idea up your dumb asses. You" – she flashed at Andy, who cowered – "said the precinct and Nikki at home. That's all you're getting."

"And yet," Castle said sweetly, "you're in a dress suitable for a date."

Beckett's scowl dimmed the Klieg lights.

"Care to explain why you put it on at all?" he added. Growl joined scowl. "You couldn't possibly have wanted to wind me up, could you?" he asked innocently. "That would be mean."

"Why would I bother winding you up?"

Ow. That had stabbed. He hadn't done anything to deserve that.

"Anyway. Nikki would change at home before a date. So you can have shots of Nikki going out – without Rook – or no shots at all. I'm not going to look like eye candy so the whole world can think I'm a bimbo who'd rather be on Page Six than doing my job. Take it or leave it."

She turned on her spiked heel, aiming towards her door. Castle grabbed her arm.

On reflection, that was where it all started to get messy.

Happy New Year and thank you to all readers and reviewers.

Three chapters of fluff, based around the pictures of Stana Katic in one photoshoot and Nathan Fillion in another. Links on my Twitter posts (Garrae_writes) since FF doesn't support any links. Posting back to the usual Sun/Tue/Thu schedule.