A/N: This is what happens when I listen to Adele on repeat for three weeks. ;) Thank you Dia for the superb beta-services again. *mwah*

An AU insert for 2x05 - "When the Bough Breaks". Let's pretend the book party wasn't until after they'd caught the killer. This story takes place the night before the party.

Disclaimer: Don't own them.

It matters how this ends

'Cause what if I never love again?

All I Ask - Adele

"Hi Beck-"

She's on him as soon as he opens the door, capturing his face between her hands and tasting the rest of his greeting straight from his mouth. She traces his lips with the tip of her tongue, requesting entrance at the same time as her body pushes his further into the loft. She moans her approval when his hands land on her waist, the touch warming even through her clothes, and his lips part to grant her access.

She's lost count of how many times they've slept together since the Tisdale case, yet the first slide of his tongue against hers never fails to melt her.

One of her hands reaches blindly behind her, groping in air a few times before connecting with the door. Not interested in giving the nosy lady across the hall any more of a show than they already have, she swings the door closed. As soon as the resulting slam echoes in the loft, she grabs for his shirt, pulling it free from the waistband of his slacks.

Yearning for the heat of his skin, she slips her hands under his dress shirt, spreading them against his back. His fingers flex at her waist, the tips pressing into the flesh of her ass, and she parts from the heaven of his lips on a groan. But instead of pulling her closer against him, like he usually does, he's pushing her away.

She resists, refuses to yield to the pressure he's applying, trailing her mouth down towards his throat instead. But when her teeth scrape the scruff on his chin, his hands come up to cradle her head. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he gently tugs until her lips detach from his skin.

"Kate, wha-"

Whatever he meant to say gets cut off when she covers his mouth with hers again, ignoring the pinch in her scalp. She nips at his lips, sharp little bites, and some twisted part of her is satisfied at his gasp of pain.

He has no right to call her that. Not when he's leaving her for someone else.

A snide voice at the back of her mind points out that she shouldn't care, that she has no claim on him. It reminds her that she'd been more than happy to agree on the 'no feelings' rule they'd set for their arrangement.

She blocks out the voice by focusing on the way his groan of pleasure reverberates through him as she invades his mouth again with her tongue. It's the sound he makes when she greets him at her door wearing nothing but a silk robe, or when she runs her nails along the skin of his lower back like she's doing now.

It's the sound he makes when his control is about to snap.

It spurs her on and she brings her hands up to the first button of his shirt. With practiced fingers she slides the disk through its hole before moving on to the second one, her movements efficient and sure.

She releases his mouth and lowers her eyes to follow the progress of her fingers. His chest is heaving in time with his heavy breaths, in time with hers. As more and more of his skin is revealed, she leans forward, longing for the taste of him. Only to be stopped by his hands covering hers.

No.

She shakes his hands off and continues the task more determined than before. If she could just get his shirt off-

"Kate, hey, slow down. I want to talk," he says, capturing her hands again and she closes her eyes to ward off the wave of emotions she can feel rushing to the surface. One of his hands appears under her chin, urging her to look at him, but she keeps her head down. She's always been good at hiding her true feelings - from everyone but him. Somehow, right from the beginning, he's been able to read her. She can't let him see what's written in her eyes now, because then he'd know she's broken the rules.

That she's fallen in love with him.

She wasn't supposed to, didn't think it was possible. She isn't sure how or when it happened, but Castle has managed to find a way over her carefully built wall. He's the first guy to succeed, and he might be the last one.

But now he'll never find out.

"Talk later. Right now, I need you naked and in me," she growls, knowing just what her words do to him. If she doesn't let him talk, he can't tell her that he's leaving, that tonight is their last one. If they don't talk, she can pretend this is just like any other night.

If tonight is their last night, she needs this one last happy memory of them together.

This time, when she brushes his hands away, he doesn't try to stop her. Instead, he slides his hand around her waist and lowers his mouth to hers, as he begins backing the familiar route to his bedroom.

"I got the official offer," he says later, breaking the peaceful quiet of the afterglow and setting her heart drumming again.

"Oh," is all she can get out past the lump in her throat. "That's great," she finally manages to continue, not moving her head from its position on his chest. She can't bear to see the happiness shining in his eyes.

And he can't see how her eyes shine with unshed tears.

"Yeah, it is," he agrees absentmindedly. "But there's something I wanted to talk to you about." He sounds awkward, nervous, and she doesn't blame him. Breakups are never easy. Although she's not sure if friends with benefits can break up.

"They offered me a chance to shadow someone at the MI6 for a year. You know, for authenticity reasons," he explains and she tries to focus on the deep rumble of his voice instead of the words, tries to memorize the feeling of his fingers playing with her hair instead of the fist around her heart.

She squeezes her eyes shut, but there's no stopping the tears. She can feel one breaking past the barriers of her lids and rolling down by her nose.

She needs to leave. Now.

"I should go," she mutters, keeping her face turned away, as she lifts up from his chest and scoots to the edge of the bed. Her clothes are strewn around the room, but her underwear has thankfully landed close by. Nothing more humiliating than having to traipse naked around the apartment, looking for your panties, after being dumped.

She's reaching for the scrap of lace on the floor when his hand closes around her other arm.

"Please, Kate. I need to say this before I leave," he pleads and she bites down on her lip to keep the sob at bay. Damn him and his need to cut all the strings. Can't he just let her leave with at least one corner of her heart intact?

"I'll be gone for a year, and… Well, I wanted to know if…" he stumbles with his words and she wants to yell to get it over with. But she won't. She refuses to be that girl, the girl who makes a scene over a minor breakup. So she keeps sitting at the edge of the bed, staring down at the black thong in her hand - one of his favorites. She wonders when she'll be able to wear them again without being assaulted by the images of him pulling them off with his teeth.

"Will you wait for me?"

Her head snaps up and around so quick she's sure her neck will hurt the next day. But right now it doesn't matter. Nothing else matters except the man sitting in front of her.

What? "What?"

"I know, I know. We said 'no feelings' and I have no right to ask, but Beckett…" he breaks off, hanging his head and she'd urge him on if she could form any words beyond the what? that keeps playing on an all-consuming loop in her brain.

When he lifts his head and locks his eyes with hers she's struck by their color - the deepest blue she's ever seen. "Kate, I'm in love with you. And I-"

He gets no further before she lunges at him and swallows the rest of his sentence, knocking him off balance. He falls on his back and she follows, landing on top of him, keeping their lips connected. Her hands begin their dance over his skin again, but this time there are no scratches left from her nails when she runs her fingers across his chest, no tugging when her hands card through his hair.

Her touch is gentle, soft, as the sigh she releases into his mouth.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," he laughs - a breathless chuckle she'll never get tired of hearing - when they break the kiss for air.

"I thought you were breaking up with me," she accuses and swats at his chest. "I thought this was our last night," her voice breaks at the end and she curses when her eyes well up with tears again.

But he simply smiles gently and brushes away the lone drop that escapes.

"Definitely not the last. You can't get rid of me that easily," he reassures her, managing to erase all the lingering sadness with that one sentence.

And when he covers her body with his, declaring that the only way to imprint her into his memory is to kiss every single inch of her body, her laughter sounds different to her ears. It carries a note she hasn't heard in a long time.

True happiness.

End.

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