Zombies

They went out for a drink after this case. God knows they needed it, this was definitely going down as one of the weirdest cases they've ever had, and they've seen their share of bizarre from cryogenically frozen to fairy tales and spy games, but the undead was a whole new level of crazy.

But now they're sitting at the end of the bar, just the two of them, with a pair of tumblers in front of them, amber liquid sending fractures of the dim light in the bar onto the shiny mahogany. The rest of their party had departed not long ago but she'd insisted on buying him one last drink, just the two of them before calling it a night.

She takes a sip grinning up at him as he recounts their first encounter with the student film production, "Oh god Castle, you should have seen your face!" Her eyes are sparkling with laughter as she turns to smile at him, her hair falling over one shoulder.

He makes a play a looking aghast, "My face! Too bad we didn't have a mirror because you looked like we were in a horror film."

"We were!" She protests on a laugh, slamming the tumbler back down to the bar without taking a sip.

It's his turn to grin as he waves a finger at her, in disagreement. "A zombie film Beckett. There is a difference between a horror film and a zombie movie," he tells her, putting on a snobby film critic air just to tease her.

"Oh really?" She's not buying it though as she lifts an eyebrow questioning his statement with a grin, "What exactly is the difference?"

You can read it on his face; he doesn't actually have an answer for her. "Well…" he chokes trying not to fold on his bluff but she's looking at him like he's the most entertaining and silliest person she's ever meet and it's such a good look on her that he really fails to come up with anything better than, "A zombie movie has zombies, and a horror film doesn't have too."

She's laughing, head thrown back, hair tumbling like it belongs in a shampoo commercial, and the sound is coming from deep inside her chest and it's absolutely beautiful. Even as she gets it under control and lifts her head again to look at him she's still laughing softly, "That's your brilliant insight, a zombie movie has zombies."

He's doing his best to look affronted, and failing miserably. "Hey laugh all you want but a zombie finally was involved making my original theory correct." He definitely looks proud of himself. Just like he did when it really was the CIA, and it was the mob, before you know it they're going to have a case where ninjas really are involved.

She smiles softly, tipping her head forward so that her hair falls around her face. But then she's tilting her head to the side just enough that he can see her face again as she says, "I do love hearing your theory's."

"You do?" He's legitimately shocked by her admission and he's staring at her trying to get a read on where this is coming from.

"Of course I do." She shifts in her seat sitting upright and then turning to face him, "You didn't think I kept you around for your superior investigating techniques, did you?" The amused grin is back as she takes a sip of her drink.

"Well I…" He's at a loss, for what must be the fifth time this evening. This woman, she's always keeping him on his toes.

She takes pity on him though, "Relax Rick," she reaches out and lays her hand over his; it's getting to be a practiced gesture these days. "I'm just glad that you're back."

"Where'd I go?" He knew she noticed, he just hadn't realized that she'd been genuinely concerned by it, and not just irked at his stupidity.

She falters, "I don't know…" she squeezes his fingers gently trying to communicate that she's already forgiven him for it, "but you definitely were going somewhere for a while."

"Kate," he sighs flipping his hand over so that he can hold her hand too. "I'm sorry," he tells her hoping that the sincerity in his voice is enough, to make up for his recent behavior that has worried her more that he realized.

She shakes her head, "Don't be." She's smiling calmly at him, "You're here being the wonderful, charming, entertaining, storytelling partner that I love and that's what matters."

He swallows hard, watching her take the last sip of the scotch she ordered, seemingly oblivious to what she just said. A strangled, "Kate…" finally falls from his lips as his heart feels like it's going to rocket out of his chest.

Setting the glass down she turns to look at him, a huge smile still on her face, "Rick?" She asks, looking a little amused.

"That… that you love?" he manages to stutter, his face a mixture of shock and hope.

She turns and looks at him the smile on her face changing from one of joy to a softer loving smile, "Yeah, Castle that I love." The smile fades, as she watches him, her eyes are glittering, the gold flecks catching the soft light.

He doesn't know how to respond, and she doesn't have anything else to add. So they just sit looking at each other for a long moment, and the bar staff has the good sense not to approach the boss while they're like this.

Eventually she pulls her bottom lip in-between her teeth, gathering her courage, "I should go," she says softly, squeezing his fingers and then untangling them as she stands up from the barstool.

"Kate…" He's not ready to let her go.

"See you tomorrow Castle," she says softly in his ear as she leans into brush a kiss across his cheek. Then before he can register anything, she's striding across the bar with a little swing in her hips.

Before she makes it to the stairs he's scrambling after her.