A/N: Ok, so this is my first Castle story ... it's set someplace after "Nikki Heat", before we actually saw that Lanie and Esposito were together.

I'll get by with a little help from my friends

Beckett opened her eyes and stared at the screen in front of her. She had been trying to write down the report for their latest case for two hours and still, the only thing that was facing her was a blank white page in light blue background. Her head was aching; she was cold and needed a coffee-refill.

Bad thing that the espresso machine was broken.

She let out the umpteenth cry of anger and dissatisfaction of the evening, hastily shoved her keyboard away and bent to rummage through her bag to find some Advil and ease the unpleasant throbbing sensation. Esposito shared a quick glance with Ryan, nodded and cautiously came closer, observing her.

"What's up, Esposito?" she wryly asked the man standing beside her.
"Do you need anything Beckett?" He replied, sounding concerned.
"Of course not. I just want to finish this report and go home." She popped down two pills. Dry.

Ryan looked at her, open-mouthed and with a general expression of horror mixed with some amazement. "You sure?" he started to get up but she raised her hand, stopping him dead.
"Guys, I'm fine. Go back to whatever you were doing before this sudden outburst of brotherly love. Please." She snapped sarcastically and went back to her typing.

Gee, those two were really wonderful people, they worried about her, they supported her, and they were there whenever she needed them, they had her back and everything but she really didn't want to drag them into her messed-up love life. Last time Esposito had given her advice she had made a fool of herself and after four months of pain and regrets Ryan had almost shot Castle.

She focused back on her report before her thoughts went down a path she really didn't want them to and began scrolling her notes on the case, highlighting the main points and summing everything up. Two hours later a tall coffee cup was placed in front of her: the mere smell of it was doing wanders to her sleepy head. She grabbed it eyes closed, warming her numb fingers before sipping it.

"I thought I'd sent you home, Castle." She said with the annoyed-sarcastic tone she reserved only to him.
"Why, now only writer boy's allowed to bring you coffee? I'm seriously offended girl!" a chirpy voice shot back.
Beckett looked up and met her best friend amused gaze. "Hi Lanie." She was at loss at what she was doing upstairs so she opted for a neutral topic. "Err … do we have a body?"

"You see? That's why I'm here tonight. You, my dear detective, are seriously overworked and I'm taking you out to drink and dance." She walked around her desk, saved her work and switched off her computer before Beckett could say a word. In any case she'd known Lanie Parish long enough not to try and stop her when she had something going on in her head.

"Great!" the ME cried out dragging her up on her feet. "Now, since I'm not going clubbing with you all dressed up like a cop I've brought a first aid kit. Let's go!" she ignored the small protests coming from the woman she was pushing towards the ladies room and closed the door behind her, after exchanging a knowing smirk with Esposito.

She turned around to look at the detective in front of her and assumed a concerned expression. "Now that there's only the two of us, honey, could you please tell me what the hell put you in this mood?" she asked handing Beckett her beauty-case. The woman sustained her heavy gaze for a while, and eventually, surrendered, walking to the small showers. "Did you by any chance talk to Esposito? Cause that's exactly the same thing he asked me earlier." She commented over the loud roaring of the water.
"He might have kinda called me and begged me to take you out to clear your mind but I didn't say anything." She chuckled, thinking back at the hushed phone call she had received (on her day off, nonetheless).

She had run to Beckett's house, used her spare key and raided her bathroom. Then she had moved to her friend's bedroom and had brought to light THE dress, the one she had made her buy on Christmas Eve, when she had managed to drag her out the precinct and into Macy's. And that outfit was definitely something. Fiery red with a deep, squared neckline, mid-way up her thighs and very tight-fitting: it was undoubtedly sexy but with a classy allure that had convinced even the tough cop. Even though she had obviously never worn it once. Lane's job was to rectify that, tonight.

She zipped the dress out the white plastic bag and caressed the soft, opaque fabric. She looked at herself in the wide mirror and straightened her dark blue dress. Then she proceeded in applying her make-up: when she had finished putting her grenade lipstick on, Beckett was out of the shower. She quickly dried and combed her hair and then she saw the outfit.

"If you think I'm wearing that," she pointed at the red fabric, "then you're sorely mistaken, Dr Parish." She stated in a hard voice. Her bad mood was coming back full force and she wasn't so consenting anymore.
"No problem for me, honey. It's actually better, you know? Imma go clubbing with you in your underwear: we'll surely find someone to cheer you up!" she began putting the dress away but Beckett, predictably, snatched it out of her hands. "I hate you." She muttered.

Lanie smiled and helped her into it. She really wanted to know the reason behind her friend's behavior and she hoped that some tequila and a little bit of music would do. Eventually they were ready to go: they went back to the bull pen and grabbed their coats. Beckett ignored the open-mouthed stares of the other cops and headed straight to the elevator, her heels clicking loudly down the corridor, past the Capitan's office.

Lanie followed her, dropped a folded piece of paper on Esposito's desk and winked at him. "I don't have all night Doctor." Beckett loudly stated. "Yeah, yeah. I'm coming. I'm coming. Relax honey!" and with that, they were gone.

Esposito stared at the closed doors for a while, wondering over the two women and hoping that they would enjoy themselves. He suppressed a shudder of jealousy at the thought of Lanie dancing in the arms of some stranger and then picked up the piece of paper.

Hey Detective! I'm taking her to the Old Haunt. Fancy a drink?
L.

The cop grinned and placed the card in his pocket. "Oi bro, any plans tonight?"
Ryan didn't even raise his eyes from the report he was furiously working on. "Sorry man, dinner with Jenny." He lifted a small vase with a red rose in it from under his table. "She wants to get The List straightened out."

Esposito snorted. "Look who's whipped …" he sang softly.
Ryan opened his drawer and pulled out his gun. "Look who's finished and is going away …" he sang back at him, grabbing his stuff and slapping him on the shoulder.
"Oh, c'mon man! A little bit of help?" he shouted at the retreating form.
"Not a chance!" He answered, calling the elevator.
"Just remember one thing mate, I have your back." He smiled menacingly and laughed at the very pale face staring back at him. "Just joking. Have a good night, bro. Say hi to Jen for me."
"Yeah … you better go wherever they went or your ME will be taken in no time." The cop offered as the doors closed.
"Damn right, mate." Esposito muttered, looking sadly at the pile of paper resting on his desk.

"Wishing for it to disappear?" A child-like voice asked a while later.
"Castle." He acknowledged him, still typing. "I thought you'd gone home."
"Well, Alexis wanted to show me some brochures … letting her go to college will be more difficult than I assumed." He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "By the way … where's Beckett? I need to talk to her."

Esposito switched off his computer and stood up. "She's gone out with Lanie. Pretty upset too … been all evening if you ask me. I wonder why." His eyes were shooting daggers towards the writer. He didn't know it for certain but he somehow could pull a bet on the fact that the reason behind his boss's behavior was standing right in front of him.

Castle frowned a bit at his friend's cold shoulder and repressed a shudder. "And I suppose there's nothing I could ever do to make you say which club did they go to?"
The cop's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Just tell me something first." He stepped closer. His bulky physique was impressive and was greatly succeeding in intimidating Castle, who simply swallowed and nodded furiously. "Was it you that got Beckett mad?"

The author tilted his head in confusion. "I … don't think so?" he offered lamely. "I mean …" he recovered at his friend's hard glare. "I don't see why she should be mad at me. I haven't done or said anything different. From the usual."

"So one way or another it was you. That's for sure." He punched Castle in the shoulder, ignored his cries of protest and went on. "You really are an ass. You don't even know the hell you've put her through and still you keep … why am I even saying this? They are at your club, that is, if Beckett can stand it now." He took his stuff. "I'm going there mate. You coming?"
Castle, who was staring into space, thinking about what he had done, got back on focus. "Sure." He hurried, grinning, an idea already forming in his head.

…

The music was loud but not quite deafening and this was probably even more unnerving. Everything was so Castle in there: bugging, insisting, annoying even, but in a way respectful. And, yeah, the mere thought of Castle and respectful in the same sentence would have sent her down on the floor laughing just a few months ago but, she had to admit it, it wasn't an total oxymoron.

She had refused to follow her friend's twisted reasoning at first, especially when she'd gotten where they were headed. But, as Lanie had eloquently stated, if Castle wasn't (as she had said over and over again) involved in her mood, then why should she feel bothered by him, at all? And hadn't he gone home early to see Alexis?

A sudden rush of … something came over her. Not because of Little Castle of course (she loved the kid) but because of the text that Big Castle had gotten earlier that day from a certain curvy and blond actress. A text that had brought a sly smile to his lips and an acid taste to her mouth. This was something she hadn't experienced in a long time: the woman was a catch, that was a given, but still … she had more or less stolen her identity!

She had settled in her workplace, dressing like the detective, hair dyed the same exact shade of auburn brown, had started giving orders to her team and discussing theories with Castle and yes, that was unnerving even with Agent Shaw but, at least, she was a cop.

But when Natalie (even in her thoughts the name sounded like an insult) had asked her if her partner was gay, aside from the obvious shock and denial she had found herself suddenly happy. And confused. She didn't quite get why he hadn't slept with her, really. "Way too meta" wasn't an understandable concept to her mind. Of course it was possible that he was still seeing his ex-wife, so maybe he was just being faithful to her. But she had seen them kissing in the elevator: the passion was all there. She could feel it even from a distance. The passion she knew would explode if they ever … and that wasn't really a topic she wanted to touch now, didn't she?

Beckett was chewing over her problems and sipping her mojito as Lanie was dancing with some random guy she had just met. She pushed some of her own concern aside when she realized that the man was keeping his hands to himself, his boiling spirits undoubtedly extinguished by one of Lanie's deadly glares when they had traveled a bit too south even for the bold ME's comfort.

Or maybe, she thought, she's just offered him a free autopsy. She muffled a giggle but abruptly stopped as she spotted the two men approaching the counter. She rolled her eyes and stirred her drink, hoping to get more time to compose herself before facing the very obvious source of her problems.

"Oi Beckett!" Esposito patted her on the arm, sat beside her and ordered a beer.
"Hey guys …" she smiled confidently but kept looking straight in front of her.
Castle himself couldn't say anything: he was too involved in staring at her legs, made even longer by her four-inches heels and disappearing up (very up) under the soft red fabric of her dress. She was completely stunning.

When Beckett finally looked at them, she found her co-worker tightly gripping the counter while glaring at the ME, now busy dancing a slow song with another guy, her whole body pressed up against his, and her partner who appeared to be very interested in her shoes. "Yes Castle. They're actually Christian Louboutin and no, unfortunately they're not mine. I've borrowed them from Lanie." She stared affectionately at the black pumps she was wearing and smiled at the flash of red coming from the sole.

When she'd said that she liked heels … she was drastically underestimating what was, in fact, a passionate love, one of the many transmitted to her by her mom. Too bad that, with her cop salary, she could afford designer shoes just once in a while (meaning she'd bought her last pair of Manolo Blahnik five years before and her finances were still weeping) and even worse was the fact that she couldn't wear them at work so they laid, sadly hidden but never forgotten, in their pretty boxes behind their much cheaper and much more comfortable-to-run-in sisters.

The author focused back on her and grinned. "Why Detective … look at who's dressed to kill tonight."
"I won't even comment on that." She replied sharply and then sighed in relief as the song finished and Lanie approached them.

"Evening Detective, Writer Boy." She acknowledged them with a light nod and a smirk. "So … who's gonna offer me a drink?" she wriggled suggestively at Esposito, who smiled tightly and ordered a Bloody Mary.
"Very good choice Detective … I might even invite you to dance …" Beckett shook her head at how blatantly Lanie was flirting with the other cop but what she heard her left her puzzled.

"Please. Go. I don't want to get under your feet and keep all those handsy guys away." His expression was carefully blank and all of a sudden it was like all the heat was sucked away from around them. Lanie was the first to recover: she sipped a long gulp of the red, spicy liquor and, still piercing him with her black eyes she muttered something on the lines of "If that's what you want." and went back to the floor, quickly followed by Beckett.

They found a crowded spot and started dancing at some famous song they couldn't quite recognize. Lanie was moving sensuously and determinedly, according her whole body to the rhythm of the music. At some point, though, her head started spinning violently and she had to stop, her breathing labored. "What right has he to talk to me like that?" she panted, staring at Beckett, and clenching her fists.

"Lane … I don't know. I mean, it kinda shocked me too but … well you haven't been exactly an example of modesty tonight." She tried to put some sense in her friends head.
"Modesty my ass! Why on Earth should he care about who I dance with and how?" her tone of voice was rapidly raising and they were receiving more than a few curious glances. "Have I invited him here tonight? Yes. Have I asked him to dance with me? Yes. Has he accepted? No." she threw her hands above her head as she walked through the crew to the ladies room.

"That's right but …" the detective tried to day something but was cut out.
"Has he acted like a complete jerk with me? Hell yes! And are we together? No!" she refreshed her make-up, the volume now considerably subsided. "Ergo, he has no damn reason to go all King of Sarcasm out there. Handsy guys." She muttered.

"Are you finished?"
"Maybe, for now." The ME saw the grim look on her friend's face and tried to retreat. "I err … I really need a Manhattan right now."
"No, no, no girl." Beckett took her by her arm and put her back inside. "Now it's my turn. Firstly we've both been working with Esposito for a long time, we know how tough he can get when something is hitting him low." She took a deep breath. "Well. Let's just put it this way: what would you do if a guy you were interested in, invited you to a club and then conveniently showed himself roaming all over some random woman?" she straightened herself, fire dancing in her eyes. "He hasn't made a move on you, I got that thank you very much. You can play Little Vixen all you want, but you know you're not gonna get anything outta him like that. Think about it. And now let's go get those Manhattans." She smiled at her and liked arms with the ME.

"Err … now that I'm thinking about it … I guess straight tequila is probably better." They both chuckled and went back to the men that were still waiting for them at the bar, engrossed in what seemed to be a very heated conversation.

They stopped abruptly when they seated back and ordered their drinks. From above her glass, Beckett caught Lanie's gaze and tilted her head in a way that could only mean "Talk to him, now!". Seeing that her friend was fidgeting, the detective did the only logical thing. "Castle, care to dance?"

Oops, did she say logical? She was already cursing her stupid mouth when he the author took her hand with a dumbfounded expression and led her to the dance floor. Great. Another slow song. What the hell was she thinking?

"So … may I ask why the sudden change of mood?" he said, unsure of where to put his hands and eventually deciding for a loose grip on her upper hips. He felt her stiffen in what seemed to be embarrassment so he cracked a joke. "Other than, you know, me being ruggedly handsome."

There it was! Beckett raised her eyes and relaxed in his arms, curling hers around her neck. This was Castle, after all. She couldn't be mad at him for a long time … and his cologne was wonderful …
"Don't flatter yourself, Writer Boy." She replied swaying lightly with him. "I only did this for Lanie so that she can solve whatever problem she has with Esposito before they get into a huge fight and he ends up on her slab."

He shuddered at the thought. "Yeah, you're probably right … seeing that Ryan is tying the knot and he's going to his honeymoon we don't really need a sliced-up Esposito. After the whole Natalie fiasco we don't want another civilian in the mix, do we?"

Again with this Natalie! Calm Beckett, play it cool. You don't want to make a scene. She let out a sarcastic laugh. "I certainly don't. One incredibly annoying and tiring author is one thing, add the self-esteeming, identity-stealing, kissing actress and I'm checking into psychotherapy." Ok, maybe she was a bit too sharp. "Or PPTH … maybe Dr House can get me some free Vicodin for my headache." She lamely attempted.

A corner of his lips curled up in a half-smile. "Well, I think that he's been to rehab so no painkillers, sorry." He couldn't resist. He grinned. "And I don't think showing him your boobs would do much good either, you know? He's very into Dr Cuddy now." He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Beckett punched him on the chest. "You're obscene!" she giggled. "I personally think they're cute." He was looking at her with a strange, almost affectionate expression. "What?"
"I thought you hadn't time for TV." He merely stated.
"I don't." She assured. "But sometimes I like to just, you know, sit on my couch, coffee in my hand, laptop in my lap and I watch it in streaming. Easier." She snapped her fingers to prove her point and they both realized that another song had started playing (one with some beat in it) and they were still wrapped around each other, engaging in what seemed a staring contest.

She blinked and carefully disentangled herself, turning to see how the conversation between her friends was going. She smiled seeing that Lanie's hand was in Esposito's one and that they were chatting amicably.
"What was it that made you angry this afternoon?" Castle asked and her smile froze. "If you're not dignifying me with an explicit answer on this one, please at least tell me it wasn't me." He sounded concerned, as if he really cared about her. Scratch that: she knew he cared, they were partners for God's sake, but this vulnerable Castle was a new thing.

She owed him a half truth, though. "It's always you, Castle. Why would this time be any different?" She sighed and smiled at him.
His face fell a bit. "But what did I do? I mean, I get it. I went away, with Gina, I didn't call and I could have but then … you accuse me of murder, we catch the killer, I apologize, everything is back to normal and you're still mad at me. C'mon Beckett even you aren't so resent- what?"

"You seriously think I got mad today because of this summer?" she was clearly showing confusion.
"If not, why's that?" he was getting annoyed. "Let's go talking somewhere else and over something else."
He led her to his office and took a red bottle from a locked chest while she opened the secret passage.

Once settled at the small poker table with two shots of Beau James' whiskey in front of them she started. "Let me get something straight first. I've been really mad at you. All the summer."
"And most of September too." She glared at him. "Sorry. Go on."
"You had invited me to your place. Just the two of us. I wasn't ready. There was Tom, he was great and I liked him a lot, probably because he was safe, I trusted him and I could picture him as a father." He looked a bit hurt, probably remembering a specific conversation from what seemed a life before. She sighed: she honestly didn't know what she was doing or why she was feeling like she ought to tell him everything that'd happened but this was probably for the best. Yeah, let's open this huge can of worms!
"Are you sure we're having this conversation tonight?" She asked, looking at him with a pointed expression

He nodded.
"Will this change anything?" she asked, unsure, her eyes fixed on the green felt.
"If this makes you feel better, no it won't. But the rule is complete and utter honesty." he said, trying to hide the small pangs of pain piercing his heart.

She raised her eyes and drowned her shot, if not for the need of liquid courage, then just to give herself an air of confidence. "Ok. So I break up with him, I try to talk to you and when I'm getting to the juicy stuff Gina comes out of nowhere and brings you away."

He looked shocked and sad. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, me too. I got rejected in front of my boss … that's something I'm not looking forward to experience again." She replied, detached as if it had happened to someone else. There was even a hint of a pitying smile on a corner of her lips.
"Beckett, you know that I would never-"
She interrupted him mid-sentence. "Then, one day, I wake up and say 'What the hell, my Harley's been stuck in that garage for too long.' I go for a ride and I meet Josh at the gas station. We compare motorcycles and all. He seems nice and we go out to dinner the night after. Guess what happens the next day?"

"Err … you find me, holding a gun over a dead body?" he tried.
She smirked. "Yeah."
"That sucks."
"You tell me! I'd just met a decent guy and back you are, pulling my pigtails!" she laughed, pouring herself another shot: Beau James was definitely helping.
"Hey! I thought you liked it!" he cried out, leaning towards her. An expectant silence came over them.

"I'll deny it till the day I die but yeah, I do." She replied quietly. She liked that they were openly talking, she liked even more that they were doing it their way, laughing, smiling and everything, but she didn't particularly appeal the way his gaze made her feel her jelly-legged. She got back on track. "This was just to say that I got over this summer. My life is different and I am too."

"So what was it?"
Damn was he persistent! "It was Natalie. She texted you. And I'm not saying another word." She snapped.
"Tsk tsk! I's honesty night, remember? And it won't change anything." He added bitterly.
"You tell me something first! I don't remember it to be a monologue!"

He stiffened. "Are you scared of playing Twenty Questions?" she teased
"I'm not. It's game." A mischievous look was playing on his features.
"Drinking game. You don't want to answer, you drink." They shook hands.
"Fine."
"Fine. Something easy … favorite color."

"I'm wounded Detective! Two years you've known me and you still haven't realized it's auburn!"
"Auburn?" she was skeptic.
"What? It's hot, reminds me of Christmas and other stuff, you know, I don't even have to give you an explanation. My turn. Why are you jealous of Natalie?"

"Pour a shot." She stated.
"C'mon it was easy!" he whined, doing as he was ordered to.
"I'm not nearly as drunk as I should be to answer." She drank it all at once. "Maybe later. What's your biggest regret?"

"Now? Leaving a bunch of people upstairs with unlimited access to alcohol."
"Castle!" she warned him.
"Ok … err … big question needs big answer. How about this. Sometimes I feel I've been reckless in my love life and I'm afraid that it's my fault Alexis hasn't a mother figure. It's something that has always bothered her but now that she's almost grown-up … I don't know. Seriously though, I'm checking upstairs." He climbed the steep stairs. "Don't drink it all!"

She shook her head. Castle was many things but first of all he was a father and he had showed her more that once that he could really take care of Alexis. Still she could definitely understand his fears: she didn't know what she would do if her mom hadn't been there when she needed her, and not only because of boys but for almost everything.

"Would you believe it?" she was brought back to reality when Castle sank in the chair in front of her. "They've all gone home! Esposito left me a message saying that he had locked the door and he was taking Lanie home."
"You mean driving her home." She corrected.
"No, no. I mean taking. The man and I have some talking to do …"
"And I need a long chat with my best friend." They shared a suggestive glance.

"Let's go on. I believe it was my turn, right?" the author said. "Why do you call me Castle?" he asked genuinely curious.
"Why do you call me Beckett?" she replied. "Really I don't know. It's a habit, I think. I call everyone at the precinct by their last names, except for Lanie, of course." She smirked. "Why? What would you want me to call you?"

He ignored her last comment and proceeded to prove his point."Ok. So Lanie's a friend, right?"
"My best friend, yeah."
"And you call her by her given name."
"Yes." She looked genuinely confused. "I don't see where this is going."
"You consider Esposito, Ryan and me as you friends."
She nodded.
"And you call us by our last names."
"I do." She was exasperated. "But this doesn't mean I don't care about you guys! My God, it's just a name! I'll call you Ed or Alex if you're really that bothered by it."

"Why by my second names? Why not Rick?"
Good question Castle. "I'm not calling you Rick."
"You did, though."
"Once or twice, to be sarcastic. Calling you that on a regular basis would be just …"
"Intimate?" he suggested teasingly.
"Weird." She pointed. "Listen, Alexis calls you Dad, you're 'Richard' to Martha, 'Castle' to me and 'Rick' to the other women. That's all. And stop smiling like that, it's creepy." She punched him on his arm.

"Now I think I deserve one hell of an answer for all those questions. So tell me, Castle." She grabbed the bottle for precaution. "Why are you back with your ex-wife?"
He took his time. She had already started pouring the glass when he stopped her. "Put it down. I'm not chickening out. Why am I with Gina … it's time for my side of this summer, isn't it?"
"I guess." She shrugged and raised her hands. "Nothing changes."

"I'll be as short as possible. I was there, at your feet, hoping you would give me, us, a chance and while I was doing that and I mean, even Ryan talked to me, you were all lovey-dovey getting coffee and Chinese takeout." Skipping the whole 'giving-a-chance' part, she could see how hurt he still was and she felt sorrowful. By all means it was what she had felt for months and in a way what she was still feeling now. "So when I realized you were going with him I didn't take it well and I poured my aversion for him on our partnership. I really didn't want to severe it, I swear. But you know, it seemed a somewhat classy exit from everybody's life for a while. And, for the record, I had planned to come back after the end of the book tour as not to cause anymore problems."

She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. "Then, that night, it was Gina on the phone and we talked. Man, we talked a lot more that night than we'd ever during our marriage."
"That was s sign." She muttered sarcastically.
"You really don't like her, do you?"
"Not particularly. We don't have much in common. Beside high heels, of course." She grimaced.

"Do you want to sit on the couch?" he offered.
"Yes thank you. I love them but they're totally killing me. They're so tight …" she said, carefully placing her shoes beside her chair.
Castle stared at her slim figure for a while, mesmerized. "Did you study ballet when you were a kid?"
"Till I was sixteen. And I think you haven't finished answering me." She replied, nestling on the dark brown leather couch.

"You'll ask me two in a row. Why did you stop?"
Beckett looked strangely at him but replied nonetheless. "You know, I got the Harley, started to go out at nights, to use the 'f-word', I met the grunge guitarist … my life turned upside down and I wasn't exactly suitable for ballet girl anymore." She stopped. "I was a good kid, I swear. It just wasn't me. And beside that I loved hamburgers too much to give up on fast-food." They chucked. "You were talking about marital problems, I believe." She tilted her head, suggesting him to continue.

"Yeah, well … I invited her to the Hamptons, that much was clear, but I didn't want do try anything on her. I just thought that since I had decided to finish the book, maybe having her constant anguishing presence in my house would help me respect my deadline." He stirred and leaned his legs on the coffee table. "It did. Gina helped in many ways. With the book and … with the memories." He looked at her. "I didn't tell her anything, she was just, you know, there. And I know I sound like a jerk but really it was just two consenting adults at first."

"Castle, I'm not asking you why you did it." She couldn't stand the thought of him and her … like that …
"I'm afraid it was exactly what you did."
He was right. "Then I think I overstepped a boundary. I gotta go anyway." She got up, more than willing to flee and forget the evening ever happened, but he took her hand.
"Please Beckett, stay." His eyes were begging her and she was finding it hard to resist. She would blame it on the alcohol the day after, of course, but that night she simply couldn't let him down.

So she sat back down.
"We broke up last month. I was sick of the drama she put up every time you called, she was sick of me not admitting the truth about what I feel for you." He sighed. "And this, my dear Detective is the sad story of the second brief almost-married life of Richard and Gina Castle."

"You broke up?"
"It's what I just said."
"You really-" she breathed deeply. "Hell." she muttered and took her head in her hands. "Why is it everything so complicated between us?"
"Bad timing?"

"Awful is better. You see, Castle, there's this whole part of me that right now is screaming to go away and run to the man who loves me and that yesterday asked me to move in with him so that we could spend more time together." If looks could kill, Castle would already be on the floor, burning from the fire in her eyes. Beckett started pacing back and forth, her partner's eyes never leaving her form. "You see why I can't stand you Castle? Why this would never work? You screw everything good in my life up! Josh is a good man, Tom was a good man and, God forgive me, I don't want to grieve like that anymore. I want safe, I want stable, I want Mr. Right but, damn it, I know it's not them."
She sat inconsolably on the edge of the poker table. "It's not them and Maddie had seen right through it. Big time."

Castle thought it was the right time to do something so he stood up. "Beckett. Nothing has to change." Mistake. She was eyeing him in her 'no-kidding' way. "But it already has, hasn't it?" he dropped his gaze and sighed. "I'll talk to Bob first thing in the morning. I've got enough notes to write fifty boo-"

She was kissing him. Hard. On the mouth. And after a moment of initial shock he was responding right back. And it was the best feeling in the world. It was him and nothing could help her to get rid of her insanity, nor did she want to. Who would've thought? (A/N: just the rest of the crew, us and the whole world but that's beside the point.) Esposito's words were ringing loudly in her head and she knew what to do. Happiness comes just once, she got a second chance.

She came up for air and touched foreheads with him. "Do you want me? I mean the whole package: marriage, kids, fights …" was she really almost-proposing to Richard Castle?
"… make-up sex …" of course he would think about that!
"… yeah that too. So?" she looked at him expectantly.
"I have to finish milking first." He encircled her in a loving embrace.

"Seriously Castle, 'Seven Brides for Seven Brothers'?" she was as shocked as ever.
"What can I say? Musicals run deep in the family. I grew up with them." He kissed her gently. "I love you." He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "By the way, what did Maddie say, exactly? I don't remember it …" he asked teasingly.

"She said that, and I quote, 'I had the hots for you and I wanted to make little Castle-babies'." She snuggled closer into him.
"Such a clever woman. You know we should probably send her a fruit basket or something …"
Beckett laughed. "You do realize that she owns a restaurant?"
"Well, then we'll go there and spend a ridiculous amount of money, is it better?"
"Is it a date?"
"I thought we were over the asking-part …" he whined. "Ok, so, Detective Beckett would you like to have dinner with me, let's say, tomorrow at 8 p.m.?"
"It'll be my pleasure, Mr. Castle but I'll need to talk to Josh first, maybe at lunch. I don't want to hurt him anymore that I already have."

"Great." He traced her spine with a finger, sending shivers down her back. "So … why were you angry at Natalie again?" he smirked his lopsided grin.
"Because, Castle." She fisted his shirt and dragged him towards her. "You're mine. And I'm very, very jealous of my one and done."

fin