My first story, yay! Hope you guys enjoy, please let me know what you think! I would appreciate it beyond belief! Oh, and I own absolutely nothing in Castle -- it's all ABC's!

Chapter 1 -- Classic vs. Cliché

The soft metronome of lithe and speedy fingers clicking across a keyboard echoed throughout the high-end loft of a certain prolific mystery writer, accompanied only by the sound of the wheels in his mind churning furiously. Clad in his boxers and nothing more, the famed Richard Castle could be found sprawled out long-ways on his leather couch, pounding out his latest spur-of-the-moment book idea. There was an intense look of concentration about his ruggedly handsome features, quite the contrary to the usual playful, "I-have-something-up-my-sleeve" expression that he wore on a daily basis. His eyes shone with the thrill of inspiration, and he was lost in a world where he was free to dictate every individual and event as he so pleased. This was the scene of a writer in his natural habitat.

A bachelor for the weekend, Rick had only hours beforehand seen his fifteen year-old daughter off with her eccentric, deep-fried twinkie of a mother, who was delighted at the prospect of torturing poor Alexis with Prada and Gucci for two consecutive days. He had then practically shoved his own mom out the door and on her way to the airport, where she was to meet her girlfriends to catch a flight to Rio for a so-called 'titillating trip abroad'. The details of such an escapade he most definitely did not care to know, and honestly, the only thing on his mind was that he now had the entire place to himself for the first time in what seemed like a century.

So what would he spend the next day or two getting into, now that he was at liberty to do whatever he chose? After contemplating wild parties, complete with downing jell-o shots and dirty table dancing, the thirty-something author had somehow found himself glued to the screen of his laptop, affectionately referred to as "Ole Faithless". He had become absorbed in yet another Nikki Heat blurb, a few chapters of no particular importance, just something that had been nagging at the back of his mind. The success of his first novel involving the tough but savvy female detective had him riding on the 'heat wave' himself, so to speak, and as a result he couldn't get her out of his head. Or was it the real-life inspiration for the character that he couldn't stop thinking about? Either way, as far as he was concerned, he should change his name to butter, 'cause he was definitely on a roll!

Out of nowhere, there was a persistent knock at the door, and Rick let out an exasperated sigh. How did anyone expect him to write another best-seller, when he was constantly being ripped from the world of fabulous fictional macabre? It was probably his mother, the blessed yet irritating woman, who had been back twice already to retrieve things she'd forgotten. Tossing aside Ole Faithless, the vexed author didn't bother to cover up, and simply trod over to the door in his boxers. His mother had enough pictures of him naked as a child to know all about his body, so why try to hide his indecency now?

Twisting the knob and yanking open the door, Rick stated without prelude, "Mother, dearest, the madness must stop! Honestly, how important is your pink rubber ducky that moans when you squeeze it? At this rate, you'll miss your..." He trailed off, as his eyes met those of an intrigued, slightly amused detective. "Well, hello there." It was no use attempting to keep the surprise out of his voice, as he took in the crimson v-neck and curve-flattering jeans worn by the stunning Kate Beckett, who also seemed to be appraising his clothing -- or lack thereof.

"Am I interrupting something, Castle? Looks as though you're dressed to entertain," Kate quipped, arching a dark brow. A smirk flitted across her features as the visibly flustered man before her glanced down at himself, and let out a low whistle.

Momentarily, Rick composed himself, and leaned against the threshold with his trademark charm smile. "Enjoying the view?" He inquired cheekily, and felt a tingle of pleasure travel down his spine at the throaty chuckle she gave in response. It was a seductive sound if he'd ever heard one, and he found himself infinitely grateful that it had definitely not been his mother waiting for him at the door. Though he wasn't quite sure why Detective Beckett was standing before him, all dolled up, he certainly wasn't complaining about being interrupted any longer.

Brushing past him, Kate replied smoothly, "Put some pants on and maybe we'll discuss it later, 'kay, Big Rick?" She was equally pleased by the hearty laugh he uttered, and felt a certain warmth spread throughout her abdomen and lower. It wasn't long before she scolded herself for it, and turning to face him, wiped all humor from her expression. She proceeded to watch him pull on a pair of jeans emotionlessly, refusing to admire the way the light played on his toned upper body. The detective had come with a purpose, and planned to carry it out.

Finally half-way decent, Rick slid his hands into his pockets, and noted with puzzlement that the enigma that was Kate Beckett had seemed to lose all playfulness within seconds, and now regarded him with the same business-like air as at the precinct. "So, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, Detective?" He questioned amicably, adding after a brief pause, "Miss me already?" There was that boyish glint in his eye, the one that had drawn in so many women, yet seemed to have little to no effect on Kate, who merely watched him levelly.

"You can tell yourself that all you want, Castle, if it helps you sleep at night," Kate replied with a smirk, shrugging off her light blazer and tossing it onto the chaise. Rick watched this move with interest, as he took it to mean she'd be staying a while. He then listened attentively as she continued, "But I came here because I have a question for you. Well, more like a series of them. An interrogation, really." She looked at him in all seriousness, no trace of beguilement or trickery in her voice.

Tilting his head to the side a bit, the writer felt a growing sense of curiosity at her words. What could be so pressing that she would come to his loft on a balmy Friday night to ask -- no, interrogate -- him about? Gesturing for her to proceed, he said eagerly, "Well, shoot then," and then couldn't help but grin at the irony of his statement. "Perhaps a bad choice of words, but anyhow... continue."

A smile of her own playing on her lips, the detective nodded. Suddenly, she strode toward him, closing the gap between them to a mere fingers' length. "'They stopped at his front steps, breathless, and kissed each other, two lovers for the night getting soaked in the cooling rain.'" Kate watched as shock and recognition flitted across Rick's features at the quote, and yet just as he opened his mouth to respond, all the lights flickered out. Blackness surrounded them, and they could no longer see a single thing.