A sweet tumblr anon requested a second chapter, so I obliged. I really should be writing for the Ficathon but...

He puts her front door key down on her desk, turning it into a neat row with the two take-out cups and the paper bag containing a muffin. His eyes flick up to her face to catch the smile that makes his day ten times sunnier, but he frowns when it doesn't appear. He carefully seats himself, his gaze unswerving, and waits for her to say something.

Or tries to, anyway.

"Beckett…?"

Her jaw tenses as she grinds her teeth, and he only notices because he's looking so intently at her. He leans a little towards her, even though she's feigning concentration on electronic forms on her computer screen. Taking a breath, he quietly clears his throat.

"Why are you pissed?"

She begins with a harsh whisper. "Why am I pissed?!"

She turns in her office chair to fully face him, and he feels the full force of her glare and her ever-louder voice. "Why am I pissed?!"

And then she shouts, standing from her chair and leaning over the desk, her hands carefully not knocking the coffee over, her voice rasping in anger.

"YOU GOT ME PREGNANT!"

He realises after a few seconds of blinking in shock that the entire bullpen has stilled, attention suddenly caught by the raised voice and the subject matter. In his peripheral vision, Rick notices Ryan and Esposito begin to move closer from his left, and Montgomery closing in from behind Beckett. In fact, now he's paying attention to his periphery, he realises every detective, every uniformed officer, every civilian worker… every person in the bullpen, in fact, is closing rank around Kate.

He needs to … fix this.

"I… It… You…" He swallows nervously and tries to get a sentence out. "In a computer game, Beckett! In The Sims!"

He feels the whole room expand again, the sudden fear for his own life that had slicked his palms dissipating. She's still glaring at him though.

"Perhaps we could discuss it later, over dinner? Come to the loft, I'll make whatever you want, your own personal chef."

He can see the cogs turning in her mind, eyes narrowing just before she comes to her decision.

"It's a date." Her eyes widen and she presses her lips between her teeth, her mouth a thin line as they both realise what she just said. He graciously allows her to skirt past it, with no small twinkle in his eye. "Ravioli, please."

He nods once. "I'll stay to have my coffee and then be on my way, since I wouldn't dare settle for shop-bought for… for our first date…"

He manages to not laugh when her glare falls way short and melts into a pursed-lip grin.