So this is just a story that I got stuck in my head and it wouldn't stop bugging me until I wrote it. This doesn't really take place at any certain time but it's supposed to be back before all the serious stuff started happening. I know that technically they are already together but I love writing the how they get together stories so even though the episode Always was one of the highlights of my life for right now I'm going to pretend that it never happened. Anyway hope you guys like it. :D

The flashing numbers of the alarm clock had barely hit two am when Kate Beckett found herself gently stirring awake to the sound of thunder cracking outside her window. Droplets of water pounded against the glass in sync, creating a gently humming that filled the void between echoing roars of thunder. She stretched out lazily against the silk sheets that draped loosely on her body, letting herself feel the humming of her own sore body as she did. Releasing a small groan, she buried her face further into her pillow, wiling herself to fall back into the sleep that she hadn't fully woken up from in the first place. After a week of never ending strings of cases she needed all the sleep she could get and wasn't about to pass up the chance to get a couple more hours of rest. Feeling her eyes droop closed, her fingers played with the cool silk sheets beside her as she let herself succumb to the lure of sleep once again.

Then in an instant her eyes were open. She didn't have silk sheets. She glanced down. And if memory served, her sheets weren't blue either. She felt her heartbeat pickup, the fog of sleep long gone from her head now replaced by a state of alertness. Letting her eyes adjust to the light, she scanned the dimly lit room around her for the first time. There wasn't much, a little black nightstand beside the bed and the sharp outline of a dresser against the wall to the left, but it was enough to tell her that she was definitely not in her apartment.

It was only then that she felt his body heat radiating onto her back, something that her semiconscious mind had noticed before but that she only just become fully aware of. His body was close, curled protectively around hers, one arm draped across her stomach and the other under her head, serving as her pillow. A shiver coursed through her as his arms tightened, pulling her bare back against his chest in the process. His noise buried in her curls as he shifted and she could feel his warm breath hitting the nape of her neck, causing goose bumps to spread in its wake.

Her head was resting lightly against his chest, allowing her to hear the gentle pulsing of his heartbeat against her ear. It was a relaxing tempo; just a slow enough thumping that told her he must have still been asleep. As carefully as she could she turned around in his arms, and although she already knew who it was without having to look she couldn't help the feeling of shock that struck her when she came face to face with Richard Castle.

She froze at the sight of him, only taking the time to let her eyes darted up to his to confirm that he was in fact asleep. Only after finding them closed did she allow her muscles to relax to some extent. She stayed there for a minute or two, letting her eyes roam his face, studying him the same way he usually did her. It felt strange, staring at him like that, but she couldn't find the will to turn away.

There was something different about his face, softer, more content maybe, and she could have sworn she could see traces of a smile in his eyes even when closed. His hair was sticking up at odd angles, still tousled from where she had run her fingers through it the night before and his jaw hung agape, his lips parted slightly in a lazy smile. If it weren't for the pounding in her chest she might be tempted to think that, in this state, he looked kind of adorable. She hadn't seen him this peaceful looking since she had woken up next to him during the tiger smuggling case.

On reflex, her eyes flashed down to check his wrist for gleaming silver of handcuffs and only after finding them bare did it fully hit her. They hadn't been kidnapped or knocked out, or gone undercover. They had slept together. She had had sex with Richard Castle and had woken up in his arms, in his bed. She let her eyes wander down his arms to his bare chest and a blush crept up on her cheeks at the sight. Correction, make that woken up in a very much naked Richard Castle's arms.

Then the panic came flooding back. They hadn't talked about it they hadn't planned it but somehow it had happened. She paused for a second. How the hell did it happen? She thought back to earlier that night, how they had been having a movie night like they had countless times before, only this time something had been different.

This time when his hand had accidently covered hers as he sat down he hadn't pulled back. Instead they had both looked up, gazes locking and in an instant he had been on her, his lips devouring her the way his eyes usually did. And she had kissed back. Apparently after all this time a single lingering touch had been all they needed to push them over the edge.

The next instant her back had been pressed against the couch, and he was hovering over her, his lips hot against her neck while his hands had been everywhere his mouth was not. Then they had been on the bed in the same position minus several items of clothing, the details of how they had gotten there lost in the lust filled haze they had been in. The thought of what had happened after left her body tingling all over.

A sudden rush of desire hit her, sending a surge of warmth to her stomach and the urge to kiss him awake for round two or possible even round three hit her. It was only then that she realized she had no idea what to do with herself. With anyone else she wouldn't have hesitated to do just that, knowing perfectly well that the next morning they would go back to living their separate lives, but this was different. This was Castle. Annoying, childish Castle, who had been her partner for three years and who had been her best friend, maybe even something more, for nearly as long.

Her head throbbed, resulting partially due to what little amount of sleep she had gotten that night and partially to the sudden urgency to face the subject she had buried for over three years. It was an interesting question; did she feel something more for him? More importantly did he even have feeling for her? Sure he had lusted after her, he had made that painstakingly clear from the first moment he had met her to the way he looked at her every day, not to mention the sex scenes in Heat Wave that he had written practically about her, but lust wasn't the same thing as love. In fact the more she thought about it the more likely it seemed. The writer in him had wanted to conquer the challenge sleeping with his muse would bring, and she had finally given it to him.

Her throat tightened without her permission and she had to blink back the tears that were threatening to fall. She shook her head. She was being ridiculous. She had known what this would have meant from the beginning, it wasn't exactly new information, so then why was it hurting so much.

Worse of all she knew even though he had gotten her it wouldn't stop him from showing up at the precinct, wouldn't stop him from following her around all day with a smug look of satisfaction that would remind her daily that she had given him what he wanted. Of course he wouldn't purposely gloat over her, he was too much of a good guy to do that, but his eyes would betray his true thoughts whether he meant for them to or not.

Even if, by some miraculous display of restraint, he were able to pretend it had never happened at the precinct, she knew there was no way around acknowledging it when he woke up in the morning with her in his bed. She briefly wondered how he would handle the situation when he did wake. Would he try and subtly hit that she should leave, make some half hearted excuse about needing to head out for a meeting with his publisher, or would he just head straight for a shower and expect her to show herself out. Either way she didn't want to know. She no longer found herself unsure what do next because while she may not know what his reaction would be, given the likely options she wasn't exactly planning on sticking around long enough to find out.

Her previous desire to stay wrapped in his embrace rapidly morphed into the need to get as far away from him as possible before he woke. So she delicately detached his arm from around her waist, slipping away from his side as she did. She kept her eyes glued to him the whole time, looking for any possible sign that he might be waking but his face remained passive, coated in sleep. When she reached the edge of the bed, she slipped one leg from under the sheets and extended it to the floor. As her foot hit the smooth wooden panels, she transferred her weight onto it, gradually moving off the bed as slowly as she could so that he wouldn't feel the shift in the mattress.

Only when she had managed to slip out of the bed completely without disturbing him did she begin breathing normally again. Turning from his sleeping form, she started the task of gathering her stray clothes from around the room, putting them on as she went. Secretly she wondered how they had wound up such odd places in their haste to throw them aside but was quick to derail that line of thinking. The last thing she needed right now was to focus on that night even more than she already was. If she did she might be tempted to do something stupid like crawl back into bed with Castle for example.

When she was fully dressed she took the time to glance around and couldn't help but think how without her clothes laying around the room it almost looked like she hadn't even been there. She shook her head. If only it could have been that easy she mused to herself, a small wistful smile on her face. Then her smile dropped.

What if it could be that easy? What if Castle didn't have to remember that night? Of course it wasn't as if he had drunk enough last night, or at all for that matter, to literally forget it but if he were to wake up alone, with no trace that she had been there and then had seen her at the precinct acting as if nothing had happened then maybe just maybe he would think he had imagined the whole thing.

He was a writer after all. Thinking up detailed like-real situations was what he did every day. She knew firsthand from reading his books how creative he could be when it came to imagining them, or at least Nikki and Rook, having sex. In fact how many of those steamy scenes that he had written had been though up in a renegade dream.

She broke into a smile when she realized that it could actually work, that things didn't have to change because of this, didn't have to become awkward. Her mind now set she started the job of making last night disappear. It wouldn't be too hard, after all she was a detective and in a way this was just like cleaning up a crime scene. Right?

She started by backtracking and picking up his clothing as well. It was the biggest giveaway considering on a normal day he wouldn't have taken off his clothing one by one, discarding them as he made his way to his bed. Her arms filled with his clothing she scanned the room trying to figure out where he would have usually put them had he not been, well, quite as distracted. Seeing the room mostly tidy she settled on the nearby hamper, figuring that he wasn't the type to leave them crumpled up in a pile somewhere on the floor.

After dumping them into the basket, she set to work straightening the furniture they had disrupted in their path. There was a chair on its side in the corner that they had bumped into, a hanging photo off balance from where he slammed her into the wall and a few random trinkets on a table that they had managed to knock over. She gracefully moved between them, fixing each one without making so much as a sound. Once she had flipped up the last picture frame she turned her attention to the final thing that need to be fixed, the bed, or the sheets to be more specific. Everything about the way it looked at that moment screamed two people had slept in it, from the bunched up sheets to the second fresh pillow indent.

Moving swiftly, she crossed back over the room in the darkness. She took a deep breath before starting to stretch the sheets back over the mattress. She was just finishing tucking in the last corner when she felt him stir. Her muscles went ridged, and she didn't even dare to breathe as she watched him reach out toward where she had previously been, searching for her form in his sleep. Her heart broke at the sight. Part of her wanted to believe that it meant that somewhere deep in his subconscious he wanted her to be there with him, but she quickly pushed the idea from her head. She wouldn't delude herself into thinking something she knew deep down wasn't true. His eyebrow creased when his hand was met by nothing but sheets but he didn't wake. Instead he gripped the sheets more tightly around him and turned over to face the other side. He remained that way for a few more minutes before she dared to more again.

Slower than before, she finished making the bed and rearranging the pillows. When she pulled back to assess her work, she couldn't help but notice that something was off. Ideally it looked right but somehow it wasn't. The whole picture of a freshly made bed seemed like the logical choice but it was too intentionally, too perfect for it to be realistic, and he would see through it in an instant. So she had gone back and ruffled the sheets a bit so that while it looked like only one person had slept in it, it didn't give the appearance that the other side had been untouched. For good measure she had even swiped a bottle of his cologne from his bathroom to spray on the bed, masking her scent with his. Satisfied with her work, she grabbed her jacket and cautiously made her way to the door.

She was just opening his bedroom door, giving one last glance over her shoulder to make sure Castle was still asleep, when she heard the telltale signs of a TV. She froze. Vaguely she remembered Castle mentioning something about his mother and daughter getting back later that night but she never expected them to still be awake at two a.m. on a Monday morning. She crossed her fingers. Maybe they had just left the TV on, maybe they really were asleep. She peeked out the door crack and her heart sank when she caught a glimpse of red hair near the couch. Silently swearing to herself she pulled the door back enough so that it blocked her from view but not enough that she couldn't still make out the back of Martha's figure in front of the TV.

Letting out a groan, she pressed her forehead against the door. She had been so close, had everything worked out perfectly only to be foiled at the last second by his mother no less. It all felt eerily similar to high school, faced once again with the challenge of sneaking past parents. Then as if things couldn't have gotten worse she heard the echo of a door creaking open from upstairs.

She peered out again in time to see a set of slipper clad feet shuffling down the stairs.

"Gram," came Alexis' groggy voice as she reached the last step. "What are you still doing up?"

Martha shifted slightly on the couch to face her. "Couldn't sleep, figured I might as well watch some of my old movies." She took another sip of wine. "What about you? Don't you have school tomorrow?"

Alexis stifled a yawn, as she made her way across the room. "I just came down for a glass of water." She said sleepily as she made her way over to the kitchen.

It was just outside of Kate's line of vision so when Alexis curiously bent down to retrieve a discarded shirt from the floor Kate missed seeing the teen roll her eyes before dropping it onto the counter in exasperation. After filling her glass to the brim she walked back across the loft sipping from it as she did.

"Night" she mumbled to her grandmother before climbing the staircase.

A few seconds later Kate heard the sound of her bedroom door being shut, but unfortunately she was the only one who left. Martha was still camped out on sofa, glass of wine in her hand and blanket thrown over her legs, looking like she had no intention of leaving anytime soon. Kate started to panic. She couldn't stand her for forever and risk having Castle wake up to find her halfway through a failed getaway attempt, but it wasn't as if could just waltz out half dressed in front of Martha either. That had to be worse right? She nervously chewed on her lower lip as she realized that at this point getting caught by Martha may actually be the better of the two options. She was just debating whether or not to walk out and beg Martha to keep her secret when she saw her stand up from the couch. A wave of relief crashed over Kate as she saw Martha drop her wine glass on the coffee table beside the remote before heading to the upstairs bathroom.

She didn't hesitate. The second the bathroom door clicked shut she slipped from Castle's room and crept across the loft towards the front door. Her fingers had just grazed the doorknob when she caught a glimpse of the remnants of her shirt lying on the kitchen counter. She snatched it up before disappearing in to the hallway, letting the door swing shut behind her. She didn't look back.

A ray of sunlight crept across the floor of Castle's bedroom as the sun rose the next morning. It was still in the wee hours of the morning when the sliver of light fell on his face. Waking with a groan, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying unsuccessfully to block out the light. Finding his effort useless he turned over, curling his pillow protectively around his head. He stretched out and despite his annoyance at the sadly punctual sun's appearance, he smiled into his pillow as the memories of last night came flooding back to him. Finally after three years of chasing after her he had gotten together with Kate Beckett. Her walls had finally cracked enough to allow him to get what he had wanted the most, to be with the woman he loved. Lazily he reached out searching for the warm body he expected to find beside him, just needing to feel her close to him, but his hand was met with nothing but cool sheets. His eyes shot open only for him to see the bed beside him empty. His brows furrowed in confusion. Maybe she was in the bathroom, or maybe she had gotten called in on a case and hadn't wanted to wake him. His heart lurched. Or maybe she had gone home.

He sat up and scanned the rest of the room for her but she wasn't anywhere in sight. He rubbed eyes. The room didn't look anything like how he had imagined it last night; it looked the way it did every other day. His heart plummeted and his shoulders fell as the realization hit him. I had been another dream, nothing more. Letting out a sigh, he shut his eyes and let his head hit the back of the bed frame. It had all felt so real, so perfect, but of course it was too good to be true. Mentally he shook himself. He had to stop letting her get such a hold on him. It was slowly killing him to have to see her every day, knowing how he felt about her yet not being able to touch her, not being able to kiss her. The last thing he needed was to be dreaming about her too. He waited a few minutes, letting the disappointment fully sink in, before dragging himself out of bed. He sighed again, slipping on his robe as he did, and made his way to the kitchen, figuring he shouldn't sit around and mope in his bed all day.

When he got there Alexis and his mother where already waiting in the kitchen eating breakfast. He was met with twin good mornings as he walked over to join them.

"Morning" he replied, hoping he sounded more cheerful than he felt. He grabbed a cup of freshly brewed coffee before slumping down on the nearest barstool. His bad mood did not go unnoticed and while his back was turned the two women shared a knowing look. Taking a sip of his coffee, he was attempting to rub away the images from last night that were continuously taunting him when Alexis spoke up.

"Dad I thought we had an understanding," she said, not wasting anytime dancing around the subject.

He groggily peeked out from between his finger to look up at his daughter. "This may just be due to the lack of sleep but for once I actually have no idea what you are talking about."

Her shoulder fell and she rolled her eyes. "Oh come on I'm not three years old anymore. I can tell when you've had female company over," she said putting air quotes over the words company.

His ears perked and he raised his face from his hands. "Wait what? What makes you think that someone was over here?" His eyes widened. "Did you see someone?"

She sighed. "Well no but it's pretty obvious when I find a woman's shirt on the kitchen floor. Which by the way the kitchen dad? Really?" He was too excited to notice his daughter obvious disgust. His mind was racing a mile a minute.

"You saw a shirt? Where," he said, his eyes already scanning the room.

Her forehead creased in confusion. "On the kitchen floor but….."

He cut her off midsentence. "I didn't see anything." Jumping off the stool, he rounded the counter to the kitchen.

"Well I put it on the countertop by the sink when I found it."

He scanned the countertop shifting thing out of his way until he was sure he had searched everywhere. "It's not here."

She walked up behind him and peered over his shoulder. "That's weird I put it right there," she said, pointing to the counter top between the sink and coffee maker.

"When?"

"I don't know around two when I came down for a glass of water."

"Richard," his mother cut in. By this time she had made her way over to join them in the kitchen and was leaning against the kitchen island. "Really what is this all about?"

"That means she most have left sometime after two." He said mostly to himself, ignoring his mothers question completely.

"Impossible," Martha said. "I was out here on the couch all night and I didn't see anyone."

For the first time, Castle looked up from the counter and acknowledged her. He eyed her suspiciously. "You didn't fall asleep at all."

"Not a chance."

His face fell. "And you didn't leave this spot all night."

"Well," she hesitated for a split second but it was enough for him to pick up on.

"What?"

She shifted uncomfortable debating whether or not to tell him, it really wasn't that much time but…"I might have left to use the bathroom for a few seconds," she finally admitted.

His face broke out into a grin. "That feisty little minx," he said to no one in particular. Without another word he placed a quick kiss to Alexis' forehead before sprinting to his room.

Nearly sliding in his haste, he rounded the corner into his room. Without wasting anytime he made his way over to the bed. Making a quick sweep of the bed, he noted the way the sheets were fixed before he checked underneath the bed as well. Nothing. He quickly stood back up and let his eyes sweep the rest of the room, replaying the night in his head as he did. He frowned. The chair that they had knocked over was upright, the photos they had tilted where straightened out, and he didn't see so much as one stray sock on the floor. He made his way over to the hamper and could help but smile when he looked in. Oh she was definitely trying to hide that night from him. She had even put his clothes in the hamper.

He thought she might have left something behind or disrupted something but as he scanned the room he couldn't find anything. He slumped back onto his bed dejected. Nothing, there was nothing left. Really he shouldn't have expected anything less from a detective but he was hoping there would still be something. His fingers absently played with the sheets. Cherries. It should smell like cherries but even that was missing.

He let his head fall back with a groan. Opening his eyes, he stared up at the vast canvas of white that was his ceiling wondering what to do next. Maybe she really hadn't been there. Maybe he had just imagined the whole thing. It was starting to seem like the most reasonable conclusion when a flicker of light in the center of the ceiling caught his attention.

His gaze followed the direction of the light to the ground until they fell on his bedside table. His brows furrowed when he spotted the faintest line of black peeking out from the other side.

"Good heavens Richard what on earth are you doing." He heard his mother call from the next room, but he ignored her. Standing up, he made his way around the bed slowly as if worried that it may be too good to be true; that it could disappear at any moment. When he finally did round the corner he couldn't help the smile that split across his face at the sight.

"Ah ha," they heard him exclaim for the bedroom. Moments later he emerged proudly holding a sleek black cell phone.

He looked at them victoriously expecting them to share his sentiment but they simply stared at him, matching expressions of confusion plastered on their faces.

"What is that," Alexis finally spoke up.

Castle broke into a grin. "Proof."

"Proof," she echoed. "Proof of what?"

"This darling daughter is all the evidence I need to prove who had been here last night."

Martha sighed. "Richard don't tell me you don't remember who the poor girl is."

He turned to his mother, a mock look of hurt on his face. "No. I know who she is," he defended. "She didn't want me to but I know."

"Who is it then?" they asked simultaneously, but he was already grabbing his coat.

"Can't talk now. I got to go. I'll tell you if things work out." He shut the door before they had a chance to argue with him further.

The apartment was left in silence as the two stood there dumbfounded before Alexis finally broke the silence. "So what do you want to bet that was detective Beckett's phone?"

Martha sighed and started leading her back towards the kitchen. "Oh honey you'd be hard pressed to find someone stupid enough to make that bet."