Chapter 1: Wherein Batman Finds Himself Thwarted by Pizza.

A/N: Originally I was going to post this in honor of The Dark Knight Rises. Now I'm posting it because I need something happy to celebrate the fact that my brother had to skip out on the trip to the theater near his house last night, and that all of his friends came home safely.

I should warn you, the plot is contrived, the characters don't really act like themselves, it's all very silly in a way that would never actually happen on the show, and yet I hope you read it all anyway...

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or Batman or Gino's Pizza.

About two minutes after Always ends...

It's no secret that Richard Castle wants to be Batman (or Ironman, except that he's not really good with tools and looks bad in a goatee). He's a millionaire playboy. He lives in Gotham. He fights crime. He owns a mansion and a loft filled with high-tech gadgets. He has a secret room. And based off the fervor with which Kate Beckett is kissing him, he is awesome.

So, really, he figures he's pretty much Batman already.

At this very moment, however, he would settle for being a bat, since bats have sonar. He's trying as hard as he can to manage to get Kate and himself to his bedroom, but he's having trouble because his vision is blocked by Kate kissing his brains out, and his mobility is impaired by the fact that her legs are wrapped around his hips. Not that he's complaining, mind you, but he's not quite making the progress towards a bed that he'd like. Mostly he's just bumping into things.

His foot hits something at the same time his thigh hits the couch. He loses his balance and he finds that they are falling. In what some would consider a superhuman feat of agility (well... he'd consider it one anyway) he manages to rotate them so that he lands on his back with her landing on top of him.

"Ouch," he says as the wind going out of his lungs.

"Shut." Kiss. "Up." Kiss. "Your." Kiss. "Fault," she manages to get out, then goes back to ravishing his mouth.

Well, okay, couch it is then. They are alone, after all.

There is a knock at the door.

"Someone is knocking at your door," she says in between nibbling at his neck.

"Pizza guy," he says. "We can ignore ... oh god do that again ... can ignore him. He'll go away."

She stops, sits up. "Pizza?"

"I didn't want to cook."

"I could eat. I haven't anything since... yesterday."

"Okay, but I really don't want to get up."

"Yes, you do. We'll both need the fuel for what I have planned."

That gets him moving. He picks her up off of him, puts her back down on the couch once he's standing.

"Yep, pizza. Pizza's good. I'll go get the pizza. Pizza!" He shakes his head as he hears himself. He used to be articulate. Now he's not. What if being with Kate destroys his ability to speak, to write? He looks over at her. She's lying on her back on his couch, propped up on her elbows and giving him a look like she's about to eat him.

Okay, so what if he can't write? It's a small sacrifice.

There is another knock at the door.

"Castle? Food?"

He shakes his head. He's been staring. He turns, goes to the front door.

The pizza guy is a long-haired seventeen year old kid who, because of the rain and his general demeanor, looks like someone tried to drown a disgruntled collie, then forced it to wear a Gino's baseball hat. Castle opens his wallet, decides he doesn't want to waste time counting bills, ends up handing the kid all the cash he has. Seventy-eight dollars for a nineteen dollar pizza, and the kid still looks pissed off. Castle thinks that if he looked like a wet dog, he'd be pissed too.

He takes the pizza box, closes the door, promptly forgets Lassie.

"Do you want this now, or ..." he says, not sure how to readdress the whole imminent sex thing. He hopes it's imminent anyway, and not just implied, but he's not going to force a resolution of the question until he's sure what the answer is.

"Put it in the oven. It'll keep for an hour or two," she says, but then her stomach growls. Loudly.

"Did you hide an angry bear in that jacket somewhere?"

"Very funny. Maybe we should eat first."

He nods, takes her hand with his free one, and leads them into the dining room. She follows him for a second, but stops them before they get to the table.

"Castle, can I get out of these wet clothes?"

"Somehow, I don't see getting you out of your clothes conducive to us breaking long enough to eat."

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, well, that's why I'll be getting undressed alone for now. But I could use something to change in to."

"No you don't."

"As much as I like the sentiment, I can see nudity and scalding hot pizza being a bad combination. I can also see nudity and bumping into the other people who live in this house a bad idea."

"Oh, well, I can solve that. Mother left for the Hamptons an hour ago, and Alexis is out partying all night for graduation."

"Castle..." she says, and through some incredible force of will, doesn't roll her eyes. He can feel the eye-roll anyway.

"Okay, right. Clothes. I'll be right back."

He runs into his closet and goes to grab a white dress shirt, but he can picture the punch to the arm she'll give him for trying to play out that particular fantasy this quickly, so he grabs a sweatshirt instead. Nothing else he has is really going to fit her, so he ducks over into the laundry room, grabs some women's shorts that his mother and Alexis have both disavowed ownership of. He doesn't think they are Gina's or any other ex's, but prays Kate doesn't ask, since he's out of other ideas. He goes to leave, remembers that she's soaking wet, and turns and grabs a towel.

He goes back into the dining room. Kate has dropped her coat onto a barstool, and her shoes are beside the kitchen island. Kate is trying to eat a slice of pizza with one hand while pulling her damp shirt from her body with her other. For a normal, mortal woman, it would look awkward, but because it's her, it's oddly graceful.

Maybe she's a superhero too. Maybe he can get her to be Catwoman to his Batman.

He shakes his head. Maybe he should save the suggestion of rollplaying and costumes for at least a few months.

She just flicks an eyebrow up at him when he hands her the clothes, like she knows what he's been thinking. But since she's the one who mauled him tonight, he feels oddly safe, so he just smiles, grabs his own slice of pizza. She goes to the bathroom to change.

While she's gone, he sobers up a bit. As much as he is enjoying where tonight seems to be headed, there is a rather odd whiplash-y quality to it that he feels a need to address, even if it might curtail the sex that is imminent. Or at least implied. His head is swimming and he's not getting any more articulate as time goes on. He collapses in a dining chair. He figures they need to talk.

"So, why do you have a pair of my shorts?" she asks when she comes back from the bathroom.

He turns, almost drops his pizza. He hadn't really planned anything with her clothing, but he has to admit the overall effect is ... effective. His sweatshirt is gray, well worn to the point of fraying cuffs and a stretched out neck. She's tall, but he's taller and broader, and so the shirt drapes over her. You can't see that she's wearing shorts because of the way the sweatshirt hangs.

"I'm not creepy. You must have left them here."

"Right. Just hand me another slice."

"Kate, um ... I'm thinking we need to talk."

"Is this one of those talks where you try to convince me that we shouldn't sleep together tonight?"

"No, no, of course not. I don't think I even have one of those talks. No such talk should even exist, ever. I'm just thinking... a hell of a lot has happened in the last few days. Thirty minutes ago, I was certain I'd never see you again. Seems like that should be, you know, discussed. Or something." Still not articulate.

She walks over to him, pushes the pizza off to the side, sits on his dining table facing him, so that her legs are on either side of his in the chair. She picks up another slice of pizza, then leans forward, looks down at him. It's not a position that is particularly good for his concentration, though he quite enjoys the view.

"Castle, we've managed to go through some pretty rough times, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes."

"And some bad fights? But we're still here, right? We've been able to work through them, once we both wanted to."

"Yes."

"And I distinctly remember, last time I saw you, you telling me that you love me."

"Yes," he says. He knows he's getting repetitive, but he's feeling desperately off balance, what with the way he can see down the collar of her sweatshirt and all.

"And you said if I loved you, I should give up my mother's case."

"Um, yeah."

"I've given up my mother's case. What can you infer from that?"

"Um."

"You can infer that I love you too. So, if we love each other, and want to be together, and when we both want to, we're able to work out our issues, then can't we reasonably say that we'll be okay if we table any of our discussions until, say, tomorrow?"

He smiles. "Are you trying to lawyer me into sleeping with you?"

"If I really have to convince you, maybe I'm doing something wrong."

"Kate."

"Yeah?"

"Have you had enough to eat yet?"

She looks down at the half eaten slice she's holding, shrugs and drops it back into the box. "For now, yeah."

"Good," he says, and then reaches out, grabs a handful of her sweatshirt and pulls. She lets out a little yelp that he can feel in his spine as she falls forward, lands in his lap. Maybe they don't need to talk after all.

He picks her up again, carries her towards his bedroom, her lips fused to his. As he's walking, he vaguely hears her say "lawyered" under her breath.