Title:Devil's Advocate

Author:wrldpossibility

Fandom:Castle

Chapter:3/3

Characters:Castle, Beckett, ensemble

Rating:PG-13 bordering on R

Spoilers:Through S3

Author's Note:The last of three parts (though one-shots in this universe may be forthcoming.)

Chapter 3

They leave through the basement entrance, laughing like kids as they emerge at street level. Castle hails a cab before Kate has time to think what next, and the next thing she knows, she's sliding into the back seat and they're staring at each other as the cabbie waits expectantly for an address.

Castle frowns before consulting her. "Martha and Alexis are home..."

"My dad's staying at my apartment for the night, didn't want to take the train."

The feeling of being a kid playing hooky intensifies. Where can they go? Kate stares at the back of the cabbie's head, as though the answer lies there, then turns back to Castle: is he even on the same page? He's busy watching her watching him, his eyes catching hers and holding. Yeah...same page.She swallows.

She racks her brain for the address of the low-budget hotel the precinct uses to hold star witnesses. It's nearby, right? What's it called? The Metro? The Broadway? "The Cosmopolitan," she tells the driver. "Broadway at Chambers Street."

Castle visibly blanches. "Whoa, whoa, what?" He leans forward, speaking through the glass partition. "Let's make that the Waldorf."

He shoots her a look of abject bafflement as the cab merges into lower-west side traffic. "The Cosmo?What am I to you, a perp? Don't answer that."

She laughs again. God, everything is so funny. "Does it really matter, Castle?"

"What I am to you or where we go? Either way, the answer is yes. Of course it does." He gives her a beat to digest this, then: "I don't even want to guess as to the thread count at the Cosmo."

Thread count. Sheets. Oh shit. Next to her, Castle's doing the same math. Maybe-for once-he's considering-belatedly of course-the merits of thinking before speaking. "I didn't mean-"

"You're not afraid of me, are you, Castle?"

He grins at her. "What do you think?"

She forces herself to hold his gaze as he arcs one perfectly groomed eyebrow at her. Who's chicken now?"I think you're terrified."

The suite is posh, lavish, even; the gold tones in the heavy draperies play with the light of the single sconce they've left shining in the entry, forgotten along with Castle's coat and Kate's hand bag discarded on the floor. In hindsight, she's amazed they had the wherewithal to close the door behind them at all; after sliding the key card in the lock, they got only so far as the ornate fireplace against the closest wall before Castle's hand was skimming the back of Kate's neck, turning her to him.

Suddenly, she's frozen. How does this actually begin? Castle's hands are framing her face, he's close enough for her to make out every eyelash, the closeness of his shave, the precise curve of his lower lip, which is curving into part smile, part smirk, part inquiry as she watches. If he's going to kiss her, will he just do it already?

Or maybe he doesn't want to. Maybe he's wondering how they got here, and how to get back out of it. Maybe he's come to his senses and wishing she'd do the same. "Rick?"

His fingers tighten on her jaw for just an instant as she speaks his name, and then his mouth comes down on hers, harder than she imagines either of them expected. She falls back slightly, taking a step to keep her balance, and he lets up-slightly-the pressure of him softening, complying to her before regaining intensity. She leans back into him, her hands finding the back of his neck, under the collar of his shirt. His eyes close, and he sighs against her lips.

"Well. That was a first."

She frowns; he couldn't have forgotten. "No it's not."

He shifts her by the shoulders, and she permits being led backward until the small of her back finds the wall just to the side of the fireplace. "I don't count the last time. You were on an operation."

"So?" He lets his weight fall against her. Every inch of her springs back to life.

"So you'd do anything for an operation."

She considers this. Can't discount it. "And what would Nikki Heat do?"

All trace of teasing leaves his voice. He becomes adorably stern. "You're not Nikki Heat."

"Hypothetically, though. After all, you're the creative consultant."

He slides his hand down and back up her arm, runs it deliciously close to the bare hint of skin where her neckline meets her collarbone. "She and Rook would probably stop talking, and start making out like teenagers."

She has no idea what the bed sheet's thread count is, nor does she care. Much more amazing: she's pretty sure Castle doesn't either. The Cosmopolitan would have worked just fine, but she resists the urge to say she told him so.

They're both half-dressed, or more accurately, half undressed, and the king-sized bed's already a tangle of linens and pillows and more pillows. They'd been making decent progress on both the bed and the clothing situation, but now Castle seems to be stalling, toying with one shoulder strap of her bra. "What?" She sounds breathless, probably because she isbreathless.

"I have to ask you something. You won't like it."

She sits up, waits for it.

"Josh."

Oh. She lies back down, props up on one elbow to look at him. "I had a conversation with Josh days ago. Right after you were shot."

He blinks. "You...?" She watches him bite his lower lip, nod. "I love you."

She thrills to it; she can't help it. She's grinning like an idiot as he presses her back into the nearest pillow, his mouth back on hers before leaving just as abruptly to brush against her shoulder, her throat, her chest just shy of her cleavage. He looks back up at her. "Also? I'm sorry."

"It was a long time coming."

Kate had long-suspected Castle would be good in bed-it hardly takes a detective to put that together-but the reality? Is impossible to even put in words. So she just lies there instead, letting the sweat cool on her skin, allowing herself sink into the mattress as Castle traces indecipherable letters and words on her back. She refuses to play.

The sun's coming up, and they're just discussing the possibility of room service when the phone rings. In her groggy, half-intoxicated-without-having-had-a-single-drink state, Kate first mistakes the source as the room phone Castle's picked up to place the order before realizing that it's her own. Buzzing on the floor.

She reaches for it very, very slowly, crossing her fingers as she turns it over to read the display, then sighs. "Beckett."

When she ends the call, she dials again. Half a second later, Castle's phone vibrates on the bedside table and he glares at her before answering. "Why, good morning, Detective Beckett."

She lies back next to him and stares up at the ceiling. "We have a body at the corner of 44th and Lex whose murder is not likely to solve itself. Care to join me?"

He follows her line of sight to the gold-leaf scroll eight feet above them. "I don't know. I kind of had plans."

"What sort of plans?"

"Mostly of the wanton debauchery variety."

"Sounds hard to pass up."

"You're telling me."

They're forty-five minutes late to the crime scene, and they've already crossed the yellow tape to where Lanie's bending over the body before it occurs to Kate that their paired arrival will warrant some explaining.

Lanie squints up at her into the morning sun. "Are you still wearing your clothes from last night?"

Oh, and that too.

"Long story. What have we got here?"

"Thirty-something male Caucasian, estimated time of death-wait. What's the story with the clothes?"

"No story, I was just...out...after drinks at the Haunt...and Castle was just..."

"What's this now?" Esposito comes up behind her. "Where were you guys? Took you long enough to get here."

"Oh, well, we just…" She's actuallyturning red. She can feel it. She glares at Castle, which, in hindsight, is probably a mistake.

Esposito's eyes widen to the size of saucers. "No way. No way!"

Castle leans near her to whisper in her ear. "Remind me to never invite you to play poker."

"Listen, Javi-"

"Ryan! You better get over here, bro!"

Ryan ducks under the tape past the gathering lookie-loos. "Yeah, per usual for this neighborhood, no one saw a thing-oh my God." He looks between Kate and Castle. "No way!"

"Right?"

"You've got to be kidding me." The heat's spread everywhere now; Kate's pretty sure even her ears are red. She gives the vic her full attention; she's actually beginning to envy him. Rick rests one hand on her shoulder, just briefly, before turning back to the boys. "Hey, hey. Dead body? Day's work? Sound like a plan?"

For some reason, they always listen to Castle.

Back at the precinct, it's a different story. "So...last night, huh?" Esposito nudges Castle as he's pouring coffee; he almost ends up wearing it. He frowns, as though something's just occurring to him. "Or was it today? I don't need specifics or anything, but seriously…before midnight? After midnight...?"

Castle just reaches for the creamer. "A gentleman never kisses and tells. What's the deal with the 20 questions? Not enough action with Lanie these days?"

"Hey, now..."

"That's right: two can play this game."

Esposito looks from Castle to Kate, then back again. Evidentially, he's feeling brave, but only marginally so; he sidles up to Castle. "'s just a friendly little departmental pool we've had going on for a while now. Since they put in that parking space in the garage no one's claimed. You know, to make things...interesting." The last word squeaks out in a near whisper under the pierce of Kate's glare. She's glad. "Of course, it's probably already interesting...for you..."

Kate looks up from the report in front of her. "Know what else is interesting? How much paperwork is involved in a homicide."

Esposito nods, clearly glad for the distraction. "I hear ya."

"Of course, if there wasn't quite so much, I might be tempted to give it a whirl myself, you know?" She stares pointedly at him, and he stops nodding.

"Yeah, I'd better be going...to do...that thing..." He's halfway to the elevator bank when Ryan returns from the evidence room, dropping a stack of papers on Kate's desk. "Hey Ryan, what's today?" he calls back over his shoulder. "The 26th?"

Ryan consults his phone. "26th. Yep." Kate watches as comprehension dawns. "Wait, who had the 26th? Janice? In payroll, was it?"

"Dunno. Better send out an all-department memo." Esposito grins as the elevator doors close behind him.

Kate's jaw drops, but Castle's turned back to Ryan, tipping his head in thought. She knows that look. No good comes of that look. He hefts himself up onto the corner of her desk like he owns it, feet swinging. "You guys think Janice might be agreeable to a share-type of arrangement on that parking spot?"

She can't help it—she never has been able to help it when it comes to Castle, and from now on, she never wants to—she laughs.

She's still laughing as Ryan leaves the room and Castle swivels toward her, grinning.