A/N: This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter story, I hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I can say I own Castle all I want, but that doesn't make it any less of a lie (unfortunately)...

Richard Castle is not having a good night. He's frustrated and bored with his work. He's tired of the parties and the socialites. He's beginning to feel trapped in the public eye. He misses his life and being a father to his daughter. He wants a change; someone new and intriguing and fun and real and more, that won't be considered a just 'new toy' by the damn paparazzi. This in mind, he turns away from the group of blondes hanging onto his every word for a momentary reprieve from the facade and forced smiles, takes just a second to breathe.

His eyes widen as she walks by; short, tight, shiny black dress with simple black power heels, tumbling brown curls, shining eyes, and a mischievous smile. Stunning. Intriguing. Mysterious. He takes a step to follow her, feet moving on their own accord.

He sighs when she approaches a man seated smugly amongst a group of scantily clad women, an obvious sleaze ball. He watches her legs as she saunters up to the man, dragging her fingers along his shoulder and bending down to whisper something in his ear. He shakes his head, but stops mid turn as he sees a flash of something bulky between her legs.

Shit, is that a gun? He squints and steps closer as she twists just slightly; he can now clearly see the bottom of a police issue thigh holster peeking out from underneath the dress. Shit, shit, shit.

He feels himself propelling toward her before his mind can fully register what he's doing. Well, shit. He grabs her arm and yanks her forcefully (and not a bit protectively, not at all) away from the larger, much scarier man.

"No way. You're mine tonight." She glares at him, eyes full of fire. So hot! He schools his expression into an appropriate mix of anger and possession, pulls her to his chest, and grabs her leg to pull her skirt down. "Tell him you'll be back when you can get away again, if you really need to," he whispers before moving to drag her away.

He jerks her arm again as she turns around to gesture to the man. He leads them through the crowd and into a dark, secluded corner before he lets go of her arm. She turns on him with eyes full of fury. Still hot...

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He's caught between intimidated and completely fascinated. "You may want to be a little more mindful of that gun, ma'am." Well, that came out cockier and less sincere than he had intended.

It seems to throw her for a loop, though. Her eyes narrow as she takes him in, only to widen a moment later. Is that recognition? He's trying hard not to look smug, decides to go for merciful instead.

"I hope I didn't blow your cover too badly."

She lets out a long breath. "The only reason I'm not kicking your ass right now for interfering in a police investigation is because I was supposed to be looking to dose a John that likes to get a little too physical." He watches as she deflates; she looks embarrassed, almost ashamed, even. "You may have saved the operation, actually. And, uhh, thanks..."

"Don't worry about it." He grins and extends his hand, "Rick Castle. And you are?"

"Detective Kate Beckett, Homicide," she manages after a moment.

His smile grows as she takes his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Detective." He releases her hand, observing her tense posture. "Can I buy you a non-alcoholic, cover-maintaining drink?"

Before she can respond, a large shadow falls over them. Rick gulps as he faces the two, very angry men. They stare at him with foreboding postures and matching grimaces. "I take it you're with her?" he asks (and no, his voice didn't just crack, not at all).

They glower more (if that's even possible) and step toward him, until the lovely detective comes to his rescue, calling them off. Rick breaths a huge sigh of relief as she makes introductions. "Ryan, Esposito, Richard Castle. I think a change of plans might be in order."

They talk for a few minutes, coming up with a new course of action that focuses heavily on Rick staying at the bar and out of trouble. From his new perch, he watches Detective Beckett saunter up to the man once again; he watches her whisper in the man's ear, and he can't help the sharp protectiveness that flares in his stomach; he watches the man hand her a small bag; he watches her grab the man's wrist and twist his arm, cuffing him with an agility that makes Rick's jaw drop. Where had she been hiding those handcuffs?!

He moves to the edge of his seat as he watches Ryan and Esposito move in on the man's two body guards, cuffing them as well. He finds himself standing as he watches another burly man dressed in black stalking toward the detectives, reaching into his jacket.

Rick rushes toward the man before he can talk himself out of it, plowing into him, calling out the first name he can think of (which just happens to be her's) under the guise of looking for a woman in the crowded club. The man growls and shoves him to the side, the gun momentarily forgotten. He kicks the man in the back of the knees and shoves hard on the back of his head, causing him to pitch forward and smack his face into a chair on the way down.

For lack of a better means of restraint, Rick leans down, taking care to remove the gun, and plops down on the guy's back, content to wait for the sexy detective to return.

Following the arrest, uniforms had begun ushering the majority of people out of the club. From within the dwindling crowd, Rick hears a terrifying sound: a combination of a roar, a screech, and a bellow, calling his name. His faces pales; he can't even bring himself to care that he's more apprehensive of the owner of that voice than the thug he's currently sitting on.

Paula, his agent, rounds on him, yelling and gesticulating wildly. She stops mid sentence when he smiles, and turns to find herself face to face with a shiny gold badge.

"Detective Beckett," she says, nodding in curt introduction. "We'll need to escort Mr. Castle down to the station so he can make a statement about the events that transpired tonight."

Paula scowls, trying her best to look intimidating, and says, "You can talk to him here, but I will not allow him to be 'escorted' anywhere."

Beckett maintains a straight, stoic face, but even Rick can see her resist the urge to roll her eyes. "With all due respect, ma'am, you have no authority over Mr. Castle, or the NYPD, for that matter. Now, please step aside so we can clear this up in the easiest manner possible."

He has to stifle a laugh at Paula's indignation; the woman actually growls as she turns to take her leave. He looks up at Beckett, no longer bothering to hide his grin, "That was so hot."

She narrows her eyes and politely demands he explain his current predicament.

He sighs and stands, telling her, without his usual dramatic flair, exactly how he ended up sitting on the unconscious man.

"You're an idiot," is all she says in response, although he thinks he sees a quick flash of something else in her eyes.

He just throws on a boyish grin and asks, "Does this mean I get to ride in a real cop car?"

This time, she doesn't bother suppressing her eye roll or her sarcastic tone, "Your enthusiasm is endearing, but can you please be serious? This is not a game."

He nods resolutely, trying not to look too much like a reprimanded child. "Of course. Serious as a sugar rush."

She shakes her head, though he's pretty sure she's trying to hide a smile as she turns quickly on her heel. He follows eagerly, without as much as a second thought.

The ride to the precinct is quiet; Rick is proud and a little surprised at the level of restraint he's been showing. He doesn't want to scare her off before he's gotten the chance to have a real conversation with her, and he definitely doesn't want to annoy her to the point that she disregards protocol and kicks him out of her car before they even get there.

So he sits quietly, taking in the details of her car and trying not to be completely obvious as observes her.

The twenty minute drive to the precinct seems much longer, and when they finally get there, he feels like a little kid. He's giddy; he's walking into a police station with a beautiful woman, and he isn't even being arrested! He can only hope that he's actually been helpful.

Detective Beckett ushers him into the chair next to her desk. He doesn't even know how long he sits there smiling, staring at the room and people around him. For the first time in months, he feels the gears of a story beginning to turn in his mind.