This Feeling

You're the one that I want, if that's really so wrong, then they don't know what this feeling is like. Caskett Very AU

Lyrics from The Chainsmokers

A/N: This is the beginning of a small series that will have different glimpses into the same AU. Think Timer-ish if you've read that story from me.

Also, this story is borderline crack!fic, so you're going to have to trust me at first... I was inspired to write this after watching Victor/Victoria...

which means a small portion of you know what's coming, and the rest are probably very confused :)

Story A - Part 1 of 3

Detective Richard Castle stepped out onto the sidewalk, lifted his chin to the sky, and took in a slow, deep breath. He was having such a very good day that he hoped luck would be on his side just a little bit longer. Ten minutes longer, specifically. After that, the rain clouds could come in and soak the sidewalks of New York and he wouldn't care. He just needed ten more minutes.

With a cloudless sky overhead and temperatures in the mid-eighties, the day could not have been more idyllic. He didn't have to work, so he slept in late, made himself a hearty brunch around eleven, and then headed off to meet his three colleagues and friends for a mid-afternoon Mets game. They drank beers, ate hotdogs and fries, and teased each other as they did. He loved having three coworkers he trusted—particularly in his line of work—but their bond was made all the better by the fact that they were genuine friends.

Though the Mets had a shaky beginning, they came from behind during a thrilling eighth inning and ended up winning the game nine-to-seven. After high-fives, back-slaps, and some good-natured ribbing, the quartet had made their way out of the ballpark to conclude their afternoon together. Since Ryan and Esposito had evening plans, they said their goodbyes quickly and hurried into the crowded subway tunnel. Beckett hung back with him, though, giving Castle one small sign that he was going to get those extra few minutes of luck.

As they casually made their way through the throngs of patrons, Castle felt his heart begin to thrum beneath his ribcage. God, why did it feel like he was back in middle school trying to ask Melanie Dawson out on a date for the first time? Because, he reminded himself, that, in a round-about sort of way was exactly what was happening. True, he wasn't technically asking Beckett out on a date, but what he was asking would hopefully lead to a date. Or something like a date. Or, hell, maybe it would blow up in his face, but god he had to try. He had to try; that was the conclusion he had come to over the prior few months of thought, because if he didn't try he would always wonder what if.

A little more than a year had passed since Castle was first introduced to the newly promoted Detective James Beckett, who had just been transferred to his precinct, the twelfth. Several years his senior, Castle had never heard of the green detective, but welcomed him with just as friendly a demeanor as he had with any other new colleagues. At that time, Beckett was assigned to ride with an older detective named Robbins, and they didn't interact too much other than with polite small-talk in the breakroom.

A few months after that, Castle's partner, a gritty, world-weary detective named Scruggs, who had taught him most of what he knew, took a bullet to the shoulder during an arrest gone sideways. The wound wasn't life-threatening, but it was career-ending for the elder man. With Robbins nearing retirement, Castle partnering with Beckett became the obvious next step.

After their first day riding together Castle was convinced their partnership would be doomed. Beckett was jus so…quiet and boring. Sure he was smart as hell and seemed to have commendable personal skills when interacting with victims' families, but in the car? Beckett may as well been a human-sized copy of the NYPD instruction manual.

As someone with a generally positive attitude, Castle decided to stick it out for a month and see how it went. Fortunately, it did get slightly better, but only enough to not make him actively want to dissolve the partnership. He still very much doubted that partnership would be as enriching as the one he'd had with Scruggs until one November day when their captain wished Beckett a happy birthday. As Beckett had said nothing, Castle first thought it was a strange joke, but when the birthday was confirmed, Castle insisted on taking him out for a drink after their shift. After some arm-twisting, Beckett agreed and that was the precise moment things began to shift for Castle.

Seated across from Beckett at a two-seater table, Castle observed the younger man's hazel eyes and pink-hued lips with no small amount of curiosity. There was something amiss about them, but he could not quite put his finger on it. When their beers were served, he asked Beckett's age, and Beckett informed him he was turning twenty-seven. Thought logically he knew anyone who had graduated the police academy could not have been much younger, the age still floored him, as Beckett barely looked like a boy out of high school.

Though some coercion and maybe a bit more teasing than he should have used, Beckett confessed that he was born premature and had a medical condition that made him appear very youthful and small. Naturally, Castle asked if that meant he couldn't age at all, to which Beckett laughed and assured him that was not the case; he just looked young.

That night, they shared several beers and talked about a variety of topics, including why they'd joined the police force. Castle didn't hesitate to tell him about how he was raised by a single mother, who worked as an actress when she could get work, and part-time at dozens of other jobs to make ends meet due to the, in his opinion, unfair way women were effectively prohibited from higher-paying, higher-valued jobs due to societal pressures for them to remain homemakers. As such, he'd needed to get a very good job at a very young age, and since he did not feel the military would be the right fit, he'd chosen the police force.

Though he'd listened and interacted well during Castle's story, when it was his turn, Beckett grew quiet for a long enough period of time that Castle thought he might not share at all. Then, with a voice so soft Castle could barely hear over the hum of the bar, Beckett confessed, "I wanted to be a detective ever since my mother was murdered and the case was never solved." With this news, Castle's investigative side immediately took ahold of him and he peppered the younger man with questions until he realized Beckett did not seem in a mood to answer any, which was fair; he did not intend to make the man discuss something so unpleasant on his birthday. Instead, he thanked Beckett for sharing, and for the very first time, Beckett smiled at him.

From that moment on, their relationship evolved steadily. Their work relationship became a well-honed partnership and they quickly rose to have the best case-closure rate in half the NYPD thanks to their good instincts and the way they'd learned to play off each other's strengths. At the same time, they became genuine friends. Despite the fact that most days Castle still felt Beckett was holding something back, his jokes helped the younger man relax, smile, and enjoy himself despite the horrors of their jobs.

Their friendship was nothing more than that until five months earlier when they went to interview a suspected triple-murderer and ended up walking right into a trap. They'd been backed into a literal corner with bullets flying from every direction. Despite his tendency to dramatize things, Castle genuinely believed they barely made it out with their lives. Later, after they'd written their reports, they'd said their goodbyes, intent on going home for the night. Castle was halfway down the block when he realized he'd forgotten his phone on his desk, so he went back. Too impatient for the elevator that seemed trapped on the second floor, Castle decided to leave via the stairwell, and nearly tripped over Beckett, who was crying in the shadows of the second-floor landing.

Surprised that the normally stoic Beckett was breaking down, he placed a gentle hand on his shoulder saying, "It's okay Beckett; we're fine." A moment later, much to his surprise, Beckett turned and began to cry against his shoulder. Castle pulled him in for a proper hug, but a moment later found himself stunned again by the way Beckett folded his body against his. It wasn't so much the act itself (though it was admittedly unexpected) but the way it felt. The strange puzzle-piece-like way their bodies melded together—and, perhaps more so, the way that the hug didn't feel as alarming as he thought it would.

After walking Beckett to the subway, Castle walked home himself, wondering what the interaction meant—or if it meant anything at all. By the time he arrived at his apartment, he'd convinced himself that anything he felt was simply the manifestation of their near-death experience and the stress surrounding it. And that's what he tried to focus on until four days later when he made Beckett laugh so hard that he snorted, and then reached out to hold on to Castle's arm for stability—a move that strangely had Castle's heart fluttering beneath his chest as he gazed down at the slender fingers curled around his forearm.

In the immediate aftermath of that event, Castle truly believed he was losing his mind. He didn't have feelings for Beckett; that was absurd! Beckett was a man and he had only ever dated women. In fact, he loved women. The curve of their bodies, the softness of their skin, and the swell of their breasts. He was a huge fan of women. But yet, from that point on every time he was out on a date with a woman and she smiled or laughed, he found himself comparing that woman's smile to Beckett's, which typically had the date ending very quickly. Shortly thereafter he forced himself to date a very attractive woman for several months, but his heart simply wasn't in it.

Ever the detective, Castle then decided he needed to find out that exact thing about Beckett that was different about him—the thing Castle could never put his finger on. After several weeks of what could easily have been described as slightly inappropriate levels of observation, he decided on one potential answer: Beckett might not have been a man. Well, all man. Perhaps, he was both.

Thinking that being part male and part female might have been Beckett's "genetic condition," Castle began to research such people and found himself overwhelmed by the volume of information, and the variety of different conditions that could be considered "intersex." Considering Beckett's obviously feminine features (his hands and most of his face), his lack of body hair, and his slight stature, Castle believed it was entirely possible that he fit such a diagnosis. Were that the case, Castle could also understand why he had chosen to be male as it provided distinct societal advantages. Yet at the same time, if Beckett did have some feminine aspects to him, it also explained Castle's attraction. Or, at least, Castle thought it did.

After giving himself a headache for going around and around over what might have been, Castle decided to forget all his research and just go with his gut. After all, that's what he always did on cases, and his gut tended to be right. If his gut could solve a homicide, then he needed to listen to that same gut when it came to matters of the heart, and his gut told him that his connection with Beckett expanded beyond friendship—so that's what he did; he tested the waters.

Castle invited Beckett to dinner, out for beers to watch at game, and to movies. Much to his pleasant surprise, Beckett almost never turned him down. For the prior month, they'd grown closer than ever and Castle knew his feelings had never been stronger, which was why he needed to take that leap of faith and find out if there would ever be more to their story.

"Hey, so, um, real quick before we go." Castle stopped walking despite the groups of people moving around him, and Beckett gave him a curious look. Laughing slightly in the hopes of diffusing the tension in his gut, Castle brushed his fingers through the hair at the back of his head and said, "It's stupid really but…well, a few months back when Jacinda and I were together, I booked this long weekend at the beach on a whim. Then we broke up and I thought I'd be dating someone else so it wouldn't be a problem but…well, here we are. It's next weekend and I can't get the money back. I don't want it to go to waste, so I'm going and I thought maybe…did you want to come, hang out, and have, like, a guys' weekend or something?"

"A guys' weekend?" he echoed with a curious tone.

"Yeah, we'll get a case of beer, play some poker. Maybe go fishing for a morning. Or if none of that interests you, you can come and read by the pool—this condo has a pool, in case I didn't mention that."

"Oh—you're inviting Ryan and Espo, too?

"Ah, no." He slid his hands down into the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels. "I wasn't going to. There's only one bedroom plus a small couch so…"

"Oh."

He couldn't read Beckett's expression, but fearing he made him feel uncomfortable he said quickly, "Don't feel like you have to say yes…"

"No, no, it…I haven't been on a vacation in a while." He smiled gently and gave a nod. "Actually, reading by the pool sounds…sounds like a nice break."

His heart rate speeding as he could hardly believe his Hail Mary of a plan was working out, he said, "Yeah? So you'll come?"

Beckett shrugged. "Sure; why not."

"Great! It's gonna be fun, Beckett." He continued leading the way towards the stairs going to the subway and nudged Beckett with his elbow as they walked. "Listen, ah, like I said I can't get the money back, so that's all covered. Why don't you get the beer and the food, and we'll call it even?"

He nodded. "Sounds good to me."

"Great, ah…well I'll forward you the details then and we'll leave Friday morning?"

"Friday morning it is."

"Great." Castle smiled as they stepped on the subway car and then pressed his lips tightly together as the ramifications of his invitation settled in. Yes, luck had been on his side that day, but hopefully there was a little bit of that left over for the following weekend.

"You know," Castle said as he delivered the last of their empty dishes to the counter beside the sink, "you're a very good cook."

Beckett gave him a side-eye from where he was washing the dishes. "Don't sound so shocked."

"I didn't mean it in that way—truly. I just…I know you talk about take out a lot."

He smiled guiltily. "That's more me being lazy than anything else. Cooking has never been my favorite thing, but it's nice now and then, especially if I'm making food to share with someone else."

"Mmm good to know." Castle hummed, took another sip from his beer, and then watched as Beckett put a clean plate into the dish rack and then reach for another. He watched the slender, soap-covered fingers curl around the handle of the skillet and felt a flash of heat at the notion of those slender fingers curling around something else. It may have only been twelve hours since the start of their vacation, but he was more convinced than ever that something was happening—something extraordinary.

Early that morning he picked Beckett up in the car he shared with his mother and they drove two hours north-east to the beach condo he'd rented. They couldn't check in until noon, so they grabbed an early lunch, explored a few shops on Main Street and then sat by the condo's pool until the keys were delivered. The condo itself seemed smaller than advertised, but it was clean and had a good proximity to the beach, which was all that mattered.

Beckett suggested they go shopping for the essentials and then, once they'd returned and put away their groceries, they changed and headed out to the sand. While he stripped down to swimming shorts, Beckett wore a yellow polo with orange, yellow, and red plaid shorts. Castle joked about Beckett getting too hot, but he ignored the jest and suggested playing frisbee down by the water. Neither of them were all that skilled at the game, but that didn't matter; Castle was too busy observing Beckett's slender legs and delicate feet, which he tried to hide with boat shoes until an unexpected wave soaked them and he was forced to take them off so they would hopefully dry in the sun.

By dinnertime, they had both had several beers and Castle decided that whatever walls Beckett had up around him during their day-to-day lives had sufficiently fallen down, especially after the playful way he shoved him down when they were chasing after the frisbee, which had caught a gust of wind and tried to escape. They laughed and joked and for the first time that afternoon Castle looked at Beckett and saw not a man or woman or someone in between, but another human he cared deeply for and that was when he knew that no matter what Beckett's "medical condition" was they could figure out a way to be together; he was sure of it.

Standing beside the sink, Castle watched Beckett finish washing the pot and then reach for the small pile of their used flatware. He washed a spoon, then brushed his index finger against the underside of his chin as though scratching an itch, and then reached out for a fork to wash next. Glancing over at Castle, he said, "You just gonna watch me?"

"No. I'm going to finish this beer, then I'm going to dry what you've washed and put them away."

"Ah…"

After tipping the bottle up and draining its contents into his mouth, Castle tossed the bottle into the kitchen recycle bin, and returned to the sink with the observation, "It's been very nice to see you relax this afternoon."

Beckett glanced at him. "What?"

"You. Relaxed. You're always so…uptight," Castle said with a cringe. When Beckett glanced over at him again he continued with, "You know you're uptight, right?"

"I don't know that I'd say uptight."

"Then how would you describe it?"

He shrugged and dropped the now-clean utensils into the appropriate section of the dishrack. "I…I just am who I am, Castle"

He hummed as he pulled a clean towel of out the drawer. "That's definitely true, but I like this looser you. It's like…it's like right now you don't have to think about everything you say and do before you do it. Would that be a correct assessment?"

Beckett didn't meet his eye, but instead pressed his lips together tightly for a moment before relenting, "Maybe."

Castle smiled inwardly as the conversation was moving in the exact direction he hoped it would. "And why might that be?"

"I…It just is."

Hearing the clipped tone, Castle cursed beneath his breath and quickly backtracked. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to upset you-"

"You're not," he said, though his tone said otherwise.

Attempting damage control, Castle dropped the clean towel onto the counter and stepped towards Beckett saying, "Here—let me finish up."

"I'm nearly done; it's fine."

Beckett reached for one of the last pots quickly and in doing so sent a cluster of soap bubbles into the air. They floated upwards and landed on his cheek. Castle wasn't sure Beckett realized this; if he did, he didn't react, so Castle decided to use the bubbles as a way to break the physical barrier between them. He reached out with his index finger and scooped up the bubbles with his nail while saying, "Looks like you missed a spot."

Eyes wide, Beckett looked at him. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing…just helping," he said as he moved the bubbles from Beckett's cheek to the end of his nose. Beckett's retaliation was almost immediate when he flicked soap in Castle's direction. The bubbles didn't travel very far and descended to the counter before they touched him, but that was the only act needed for the war to begin.

Without a second though, Castle reached into the sink, grabbed a handful of bubbles and flung them towards Beckett's face. He squealed, "Hey!" and jumped back, leaving the pot to clatter into the sink. Castle laughed and reached for more soap, but Beckett moved quickly and splashed some water flowing out of the faucet tap into his direction.

Castle gasped when the water hit his arm and declared, "Oh, now you've done it!"

"Wha—Castle!" Beckett yelped when more water flung in his direction.

They continued their soap and water battle for several minutes, at one point chasing each other around the small kitchen table. In the end, Castle caught up to Beckett and grabbed him from behind with his left arm while he cupped a handful of soapy water in his right. He had every intent to dump that water on Beckett's head while he struggled in Castle's embrace saying, "No! Don't! Don't!"

Heeding to the request, Castle dumped his hand out onto the floor, but kept his left arm around Beckett. He spun around in the arm-lock and gazed up at Castle with a mixture of amusement and concern. Castle took a half step forward which pinned Beckett between him and the counter. This was not exactly his intention, merely a result of their playful fight, but the action brought them closer together than ever.

In the tight space, Castle lowered his right hand to Beckett's side, feeling the curvature of his ribs. Beckett breathed in sharply and then croaked, "Wha…" but the word was lost on his tongue. Castle gazed down at Beckett and decided that despite the fact that his face was half splotchy and red from soap suds and exertion, he had never seen anyone look more beautiful. Without taking one more moment to weigh the consequences, Castle dipped his chin and pressed his lips against Beckett's. He immediately braced himself, waiting for a bunch to his ribs or solar plexus, but it never came. At the same time, he could not conclusively say that Beckett was kissing him back, so he lifted his head and gazed down to see Beckett wide-eyed and looking like a forest creature caught suddenly in headlights.

Castle stared at Beckett for fifteen more seconds, both of them barely breathing, before he realized that he still had Beckett half pinned against the counter, so he asked softly, "If I let you go, are you going to punch me?" It took fifteen seconds, but then Beckett silently shook his head, and he agreed with, "Okay."

He stepped back and dropped his arms to his sides, releasing Beckett completely; he didn't move an inch. Knowing that there would never be a better moment for him to explain the things swirling around inside his mind at that moment, he took a deep breath and prepared for what would likely be one of the most difficult conversations of his life.

"I, ah…I have some things to say and I'd like you to listen." Again, Beckett didn't move or blink, so he felt it safe to continued. Skimming his hands down over his face, Castle began to speak. "The thing of it is…I…I've been driving myself crazy for months—almost half a year—because I can't stop thinking about you. It…it started the night after that firefight—when I found you crying in the stairwell. At least, I think that's when it started. Maybe it was before, I don't know, but that night was the first I realized that I have feelings for you or…or I feel… I don't know. That's…that's really the gist of it: I don't know."

Castle threw his hands up and began to pace the kitchen. "I can't stop. I tried—I swear to god I tried—but I can't. I threw myself into meaningless relationships trying to…to…I don't know, feel what I thought I should, because when you're thirty years old and you've felt a certain way for those thirty years, feeling something different is… It's scary. It feels…like maybe you're not you—and I don't mean that in a bad way," he added quickly, fearful to offend. "I'm not homophobic; I'm not, but this was…unexpected. I thought I was going crazy," he added with a slight laugh; Beckett appeared just as frozen as ever, so he continued.

"I tried to tell myself that we were just friends—partners—but I knew that wasn't it. Deep down I knew, but it took me a while to…to…to get here." Castle stopped pacing and stood directly in front of Beckett as he made his next confession. "I lied before. I didn't rent this condo for Jacinda and I or anyone else. I rented it for us, so we could get away from our lives, from what was expected of us, and to see if maybe…" He huffed out a breath and shook his head. "Now that I say it out loud, it sounds a bit manipulative—like I tricked or coerced you into coming here. I promise you that's not the case, but if you want to leave, you can go; I won't stop you."

He was silent for thirty seconds, but when he still didn't seem to be breathing or blinking, his brow wrinkled with concern. "Beckett? Are you…are you okay? Are you in shock? Can you give me some sort of a sign here…?"

Beckett didn't speak, but he did stand more upright instead of leaning back against the counter. He dipped his chin, skimmed his hand over his mouth, and when he looked backup, a single tear fell from his eye.

Castle felt his heart clench. "Are you—can you say something? You…you look a little shocked and scared. You're not afraid of me, are you?" That was the last thing he wanted; to scare someone he cared so deeply for. Admittedly, choosing a kiss over talking probably was not the best course of action, but it had happened and he couldn't take it back.

After several more seconds Beckett finally rasped out, "I…I'm afraid of this."

Feeling a bit more hopeful, he stepped forward and confessed, "I know I was too, but you feel it too, don't you?" He reached out his fingers to brush under Beckett's jaw. He could feel his accelerated heartrate and the tightness in his throat, which concerned Castle; yet the fact that Beckett wasn't running away made him press on. He used his hand beneath Beckett's jaw to draw them in closer and when he felt Beckett tilt forward ever so slightly, he closed this distance between them and crushed their lips together once more.

He groaned when he felt Beckett's hands land on his side and curl into the fabric of his shirt. Their lips parted and they kissed again and again until Castle thought his heart might just explode. "God Beckett," he groaned out as he tilted his head to the other side and cradled the back of Beckett's head with his right hand. He pulled him in and when their tongues brushed lightly together, he heard Beckett mew out a soft noise and he knew he'd never wanted anyone more.

Feeling bolder as they kissed, Castle let his hands drift down over Beckett's spine and all the way down to his ass. Only when he tried to squeeze did Beckett's hands press against his stomach and he heard his name in a warning tone.

"Rick."

"What?" he replied, a little breathless. "You want to stop?"

Beckett shook his head gently. "It's not that. It's…I don't…"

"Hey it's okay." Castle cupped Beckett's jaw when he saw emotion welling in his eyes. "It's okay if you haven't done this before. I haven't—clearly. We can just…we can go slow and—and we'll figure it out, right? We'll just…we'll go into the bedroom and—or—or we don't have to," he added quickly when Beckett's eyes shut and tears began to fall.

"No," he rasped out and Castle felt as though his heart was being shredded from the pain he heard.

"Hey, it's okay—don't cry. It's going to be okay. Honestly, if you're not ready or you-"

"No, I can't…I can't…"

"Beckett…" he sighed and then quickly looked around the counter for something to use as a tissue. When all he saw was a roll of paper towels, he quickly ripped two sheets off and pressed them into Beckett's hands; he used them to cover his face. Castle stroked his hands down Beckett's arms reassuringly and then continued, "If…if this is because of your medical condition you have to know: I don't care about that; not at all. Whatever it is, we'll figure something out because we always figure stuff out, right?"

His attempt at humor fell flat as Beckett continued to cry into the paper towels. After two minutes he calmed himself to say, "No, no—you don't understand."

Castle gazed at him imploringly "Then help me understand. You can talk to me. We're partners, Beckett."

"I know but you…you don't…"

"What? Just say it. Please," he begged her. He knew they could conquer any obstacle together, but only if he let him in.

"I can't. "

Castle felt Beckett's entire body shiver and could resist comforting him no longer. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him in, and Beckett fell against him, mimicking the way they'd first held each other months before. Castle held him tightly, rocked their bodies gently, and repeated softly, "It's okay, Beckett; it's okay. We'll figure it out; it's okay." All Castle could think was that he was terrified for Castle to discover the extent of his medical condition and then be horrified or find him grotesque, but that could not have been further from reality.

After crying for the better part of five minutes, Beckett's sobs quieted, but he remained with his body pressed up against his. Then, slowly, he lifted his head and pressed his lips against the underside of Castle's jaw. That time, it was Castle's body that shivered. He tilted his chin down to meet Beckett's gaze, where he saw pain and sorrow, but behind that, the smallest shred of hope. Holding onto that shred, he bumped his nose up against Beckett's in a tender gesture. Beckett reciprocated and then slowly, cautiously, pressed his lips over Castle's once more.

"Oh Beckett…Beckett…" Castle breathed between kisses. "It'll be… okay…I promise…"

Unable to stop himself, Castle moved his kisses down over Beckett's throat down towards his collar bone. His hands roamed Beckett's sides and without even thinking he ducked them beneath the hem of Beckett's polo shirt. They had barely begun to travel northward when he gasped out, "No!"

Castle lifted his head and glanced up to see his deer-in-headlights expression had returned. He gave a reassuring smile and promised, "I told you it's okay. Whatever it is…" His hands traveled from Beckett's sides, over his hip bones to rest just above the zipper on his shorts. "…it's okay."

His eyes still locked with Beckett's and nervous perspiration forming at the back of his neck, Castle pressed his hand more firmly against the front of his shorts. Beckett's jaw opened slightly, but no sound came out. Castle had, in all honestly, half expected to feel some sign of Beckett's arousal, but was not entirely shocked when he felt nothing. It only led him to conclude that whatever was beneath Beckett's shorts was too small to feel or one of the very untraditional things he had read about on the internet.

Castle leaned in, pressed a kiss against the side of Beckett's open mouth, and then slowly began to undo the fastenings of his shorts. He moved at a slow enough pace that he was sure if Beckett wanted to stop him, he could have, but he didn't. He let Castle loosen his shorts and tug them until they fell to the floor. Only then did Castle break their eye contact and gaze down to see a pair of white boxer-briefs that should have left very little to the imagination, only that's precisely what he saw: very little. There was no bulge or bump whatsoever. If anything, they were a little baggy in the front.

Lifting his gaze, he saw that Beckett's eyes were shut and once again tears were falling. He brushed one of them away with his left hand and he rasped out, "I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't—don't be sorry for who you are." He sighed out and dropped his forehead against Beckett's. He held him close for a moment before pulling back and saying, "Just talk to me okay? Your medical condition. Is it that you're intersex? Both male and female?"

Beckett's eyes popped open and her brow wrinkled. "What?"

He gave a guilty little shrug. "Sorry, I was trying to figure it out and did some research. There are lots of different types of that so if you just-"

"No."

He blinked, not understanding. "No…what? No, you don't walk to talk about it?"

"No, I…I'm not that. I'm not…both."

"Not…" his brow wrinkled for a moment and he looked down at her body and then back up to his face as a most unexpected resolution popped into his mind. "You're…you're a woman."

Her response was nearly inaudible. "Ye-yes."

A gleeful laugh escaped his lips and Castle felt tears pricking his own eyes. Jesus—a woman; Beckett wasn't a he but a she and that was a very unexpected—but certainly not unwelcome—solution to his confusion. "You're really a woman? You were born a woman?"

Beckett nodded and then sniffled out, "I'm so sorry."

"Why?"

"Because…you're probably really mad at me."

Castle actually let out a full laugh, as mad was not even close to what he was feeling at that moment. "How could I be mad? This is the best thing I've ever heard in my entire life!" With that, he lunged forward, locked his arms around her body and twirled her towards the center of the room in an overzealous hug.

"Castle!" She half-laughed, half-gasped.

He set her down, pulled back, and saw that despite the tears on her cheeks, she was smiling—smiling at him. She was smiling at him, which brought him back to his original plan for the evening: taking Beckett to the bedroom and not leaving until morning.

Without waiting another moment, he scooped her up by the hips and began carrying her across the condo. She locked her legs and arms around him and said nothing until they reached the bedroom when he sat her down on the edge of the mattress after she said his name with notable uncertainty.

He crouched down to be eye-level with her, smiled, and asked, "What's your name? Your real name?"

"Kate."

"Kate," he echoed as a smile bloomed on his lips. He loved how it sounded, and how her eyes lit up when he said it. "Well, Kate Beckett, it's nice to meet you, but there's one thing that you should know."

"What?"

Castle placed his hands on the mattress at either side of her hips, arched his body over hers and said, "I'm in love with you."

She shut her eyes for a moment, then looked up at him and sighed, "I love you, too."

Feeling happier than he ever had in his life, Castle slid onto the mattress beside her and pulled her in for a kiss. As soon as they were laying side by side, Castle's hands began to roam her body, once again sneaking up under her shirt, only that time she didn't stop him. His hands skimmed her flesh until he came in contact with a very solid object. He broke their kiss, perplexed for a moment, before he considered the location and asked, "What kind of bra is that?"

She laughed and said, "It's not a bra…not exactly." With that, she pulled off her shirt and revealed a layered bandage of sorts reaching from just beneath her arms all the way down to her mid-chest.

He thought about her male masquerade for a moment and realized she needed this to hide her breasts, but to him it seemed unbelievably uncomfortable, not to mention perplexing. "I…I have no idea how to get that off you."

Again, she laughed and nudged him away so she could stand and work at the bandage-like object. As layer and layer of fabric began to appear, Castle commented, "You're like a mummy."

"Feels that way somedays." It took her nearly a full minute to unwind, and when she was done, indentations could be seen in her flesh where the bandage was particularly tight, but her breasts had bounced free, leaving no question that she was a woman.

Castle stood from the bed, gathered her breasts in his hands and sighed out, "You're beautiful," before kissing her again.

As he backed towards the mattress, she tried to pull his t-shirt up and over his head, but accidentally ended up punching him in the nose. He yelped, and she gasped out an apology. "I'm so sorry. I—I guess I might be rusty at this."

Still rubbing his sore nose, Castle considered her statement and then asked, "How long has it been?"

She dipped her gaze and confessed, "About five years."

"That's how long you've been living as a man?" he asked; she confirmed with a nod. "Then," he said, snagging her hip with his hand and pulling her back towards the bed, "I guess we have a lot of time to make up for."

An hour later, lying in bed beside the woman he now knew as Kate Beckett, Castle could not keep himself from smiling; it would have been impossible. He had never felt happier in his whole life. Not only because of what he had just experienced, but because it had not just been sex, but true intimacy. She was, for the first time since he'd met her, fully open, as was he. They'd smiled, laughed, and even teared up a little bit; it had been extraordinary.

When he felt her shift beside him, Castle turned his head towards her, met her eye, and smiled. Rolling onto his side, he tucked his hands beneath his cheek and said, "I have about one million questions."

She gazed at him cautiously and then recommended, "Why don't you start with the top few."

Considering the volume of questions, Castle wasn't sure how to rank them on a scale of importance, but after several moments' thought, one popped into his mind. "Yeah, okay, here's one: how the hell did you use a urinal?" he asked, knowing that one of the times they'd been in the locker room together had really thrown off his intersex theories.

"I have a device."

He scrunched his nose. "A device? Like a fake dick?"

She laughed loudly. "Kind of. More like a funnel."

"Really?"

She nodded. "I didn't use it all the time—it's really awkward—only occasionally to reinforce the illusion"

He hummed and continued to think about his endless list. "So…why did you become a cop?"

"My mother was murdered," she said matter-of-factly.

"I know; you told me that, but to change your life so dramatically…your gender, your identity…"

She was quiet for a moment before continuing, "My father's an alcoholic—has been ever since my mother's death. I had to take care of us right from the start and that was very…isolating and lonely. I looked at the numbers and working as a secretary just wouldn't have been enough to support us. Besides, I…wanted to be more than that. I wanted to make a difference. I didn't want to leave any more families with questions like I had, if I could."

He smiled at her noble reasoning, then reached out to dust his thumb across the apple of her cheek. Gazing at her then, it was so clear to him that she could never have been a convincing man. Her male haircut aside, her eyes, cheeks, lips, and jaw—everything about her was feminine; and gorgeous. "I can't believe I didn't see who you really were…it's so obvious now."

"Well, I think you did you did—subconsciously I mean. And you thought I was a man and a woman, right?"

"You're the one who explained your lack of beard as a medical condition; I just went off that."

She gazed at him intently for a moment before asking, "We're you really going to have sex with me if I was a man?"

"I…" He hesitated a moment before finding a way to put his feelings into words. "I wanted to make love to the person I loved so…yeah, only I wasn't entirely sure about the logistics." Skimming his hand across her body to reach her hip, he pulled her closer and whispered, "This works out much better," before sealing his lips over hers.

After their kiss, she excused herself to the bathroom, and returned two minutes later. She then picked up her boxer-briefs from the floor and tugged them on before climbing back into bed. Rick watched and considered her actions for a moment. "You know…as strangely sexy as it is to see you wearing those—do you have any of your female wardrobe anymore?"

"A few things, but… I still have to be a man, Rick; I don't want to stop being a detective."

He nodded, unsurprised by her comment. "I understand. We can…still spend nights together, right?"

She gave a gentle shake of her head. "People will figure it out."

"Figure what out?"

"That you're sleeping with a man."

He reached out for her hand and pulled it against his chest. "I don't care about that. I love you. And I want to get to know this you."

"I didn't change that much about myself…"

"But what I said earlier is true—you're so guarded. I understand why now, but I don't want you to be that way with me. I just want to know the real you."

She smiled gently as she lay back down against the pillows once more. "Okay. I can do that."

"Excellent," he agreed. Then after a minute of silence he said, "I just have one more important question. What did you think this weekend was when I invited you?"

She shrugged. "A guys' weekend—like you said."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I wanted to read by the pool and….and spend time with you. It's…" She dipped her gaze and bit down on her bottom lip for a moment before looking back at him a bit nervously. "I don't know if you noticed, but I always try to sit beside you. At the bar. At baseball games…"

"I noticed," he said. In fact, it was one of the main things that made him feel confident in his decision to initiate an intimate relationship between them. He'd caught her looking at him more than once while they were out in public—even sometimes during work. The look was the same one he snuck at her when he didn't think anyone was looking. Plus, she always seemed to jump at the chance to sit beside him or so do something with him. It made him think she might have feelings for him too; turns out that was entirely correct.

"I knew that me as James Beckett couldn't have feelings for you…but I did and…being around you made me happy."

He reached out and stroked his fingers softly against her face. "Would you have ever told me?"

"I thought about it a few times, but I was afraid you'd be angry and then I'd have to quit my job. What we do is important."

"I know, and I agree, but this is important too, right?"

The tears returning to her eyes again, Kate confessed. "I never thought about having this; I never thought I could. When I made the decision to become a man, I did so knowing I'd give up a personal life, but I was okay with that, as long as I made a difference."

"But now we can have both."

"Can we?" she asked, her concern noticeable.

He gave a little shrug. "There's no rulebook for this, but I want to try—we have to try."

"Yeah, we do." she agreed.

Castle snuggled his body against hers, pressed a kiss to her temple, and then settled down to sleep having no idea what the future would hold for them, but knowing full well they would face it together.

A/N: Sooooo yeah, this did start out as kind of a crack!fic idea, but then it got a little too sad and a little too sweet to be crack material, so now its just weird, but that's ok, right? LOL

There are 2 more parts to "story A". Then there will definitely be a story B with 2-3 parts. There might be a Story C

Um...Happy New Year? :)