Filling a prompt from the castlefanficprompts tumblr: a fic where they really are criminal partners as well as life partners. M-rated for a reason, folks.
There's something so hypnotic about the way she watches him as he bags the money. It really should be illegal for her to wear all-black. Especially with those knee-high leather boots that make his pants all tight in... areas. Her, standing there like that, arms splayed wide as she presses two guns against the sides of the heads of the bank manager and the guy who tried to play hero - well, it's more than just hot.
"Hurry up, Castle," she commands, glancing over at the huddle of hostages on the floor. They have at least ten minutes - how does she always figure out the police's tactics? - before they'll be in any real trouble, but they do always like to be clear of certain danger at least a couple minutes early.
"You know, you put a lot of pressure on me," he teases, no longer bothering to count the lump sums he's shoving into the third bag they bought with them. "My job's just as hard as yours. I'm the unsung hero in this partnership."
Kate cocks her eyebrow and oh that's unfair. That's really unfair. She's so intimidating - even to him, a little bit.
"You want to do my job instead?" She replies, and he watches as the bank manager practically faints when she releases the safety.
Castle huffs, hauling the bags of money up into his arms. There's got to be at least half a million in here. Oh, he's so getting laid tonight.
Kate grins, then immediately pistol whips both men by her side. They go down easily and she doesn't even blink as the other hostages gasp and tremble in the corner of the bank. Clenching her fingers around the gun in her right hand, she pushes the other into her thigh holster, moving towards the hostages as he follows. Ooh, this may or may not be kind of his favourite bit. Kate - with her fierce hazel eyes and dangerously haunting good looks - levels her gun at the hostages, who cling to each other, whimpering.
"Here's what's going to happen: the police are going to ask you all what we look like. You are not going to tell them the truth. You are going to tell them that we were both men, short, stocky. Maybe five seven in height, edging towards a hundred and fifty in weight. They'll ask for defining features, and you'll say one of us had a tattoo on our neck - if they ask what, you tell them it was a bear. You'll tell them we spoke with accents - something European, maybe Greek, or maybe Turkish. You don't know, because everything happened so fast."
Kate points to the CCTV. "We disabled the cameras before we came in here. If our descriptions are released, you will all regret it. We'll know it was you. And I have no trouble finding out all about you," she pauses, aiming the gun on one woman in particular. "You - for example. You work here. You have your name on your tag. You have family, Maisie? Because I can make them disappear. Get it?"
The woman - Maisie - nods vigorously, tears streaming down her cheeks. Kate glares at the other hostages, fiercely defiant, and they all nod in unison, some mumbling yes. His partner turns to him in a flash of honey coloured hair, breath-taking.
"Let's go, babe," she says, stealing a kiss from him before she turns to leave through the fire exit.
He can hear the whirl of sirens as they leave and he notices the pleased smile that crosses Kate's face. She's always loved this – the adrenaline of almost being caught, sometimes risking both of them with the addiction. Some part of him knows he should maybe resent that, but he follows her anyway.
He watches as Kate uses the butt of her gun to smash the window of a nearby car, reaching in to unlock it from the inside. He shoves the bags of money into the back seats as he always does while she reaches in to hotwire the car.
Castle pouts. "Why can't I do that for once? You never let me drive."
Crouching, Kate turns to him with one eyebrow raised. "Castle, you would get yourself killed trying to do this."
"That's not fair – I've seen you do it a hundred times. A little electric shock never harmed anyone."
Kate rolls her eyes and he laughs to himself, rounding the car to the passenger seat.
The criminal huffs, looking up from the dizzying array of wires. "What, Castle?"
"We've got company."
Instantly, she's on her feet, following his gaze. Two armed officers are making their way down the alley towards them slowly, guns raised in front of them. He notices Kate slip one of her own guns out of its holster, holding it against her thigh as she mulls a plan over in her mind – because she always as a plan, of course. Until, sometimes, he disrupts it; she'll say stay in the car, and he will, for all of five seconds, before following her.
"Looks like it's your lucky day, Castle. You get to hotwire the car after all."
Excited, he practically skips round the car to reach in for the wires. Okay. This all looked a lot easier when she did it. Has there always been a green wire, too? Ah well, he's had worse than a minor electric shock.
Glancing up, he notices Kate walking towards the officers with her hands up. She looks back at him, a question in her eyes, and he nods.
"Put the gun down, ma'am," one of the officers says, a tremble to his voice.
Kate edges closer to them, cautious. "Of course, Officer."
The officers approach her steadily once her gun is on the ground and she stands back up, hands raised. If he didn't know any better, he would also believe her, just like the officers. But he knows her; knows her tells and her mind and the plans and deceit it can concoct – had almost fallen victim to it once, she required (and still does) perseverance. She was – always will be – a mystery he's never going to solve.
As soon as one officer pulls his cuffs out and reaches for her wrists, Kate grabs his, twisting and throwing him over her shoulder and onto the ground. She's all perfectly trained moves, knows how to hold herself, how to use the force of a man's weight against her centre of gravity. The officer goes down with a cry that she mutes with a kick to the face, grabbing her gun and pulling it on the other officer, who has gone as a pale as a sheet. They'd probably thought they were just dealing with some low life criminals trying to steal a car.
"Ma'am," the officer croaks, flustered. "Put down your weapon."
Kate shrugs. "If you insist."
Once again, she places her gun on the ground. He watches the sheen of sweat that begins to coat the officer's forehead as he watches her, too.
And then Kate makes her move.
She lands a solid blow to his solar plexus, then his forearm, sending his service piece flying. Before he can even think to react, she spins and roundhouses him. He's down without a sound, head knocking sickeningly against the concrete ground. Kate hovers over him, all fiery eyes and heaving chest – she's barely broken into a sweat, carefully composed as she always is.
Kate glances back at him, grinning. "You figured out how to hotwire yet, Castle?"
Blinking out of his awe, he focuses again on the wires, hissing when there's a spark that burns the tip of his index finger.
Soon enough the engine roars to life and they're peeling away from the pavement and disguising themselves among New York traffic. Energy thrums through him and he watches as she moves restlessly, the leather of her jacket rustling with it.
Ten minutes later and they're at their usual spot behind an abandoned warehouse. Several of their other getaway cars are clumped here, but Kate pays no attention, parking the car and turning to glance at the money in the back seat.
Some of it has spilled from the bags, beautiful green bills haphazardly painting the floor. He watches as her breath hitches, eyes sparkling.
"God, Castle, that's half a million right there."
"I know, I know. I'm amazing."
Kate reaches over to twist his ear, laughing to herself when he winces and glares at her. After, he catches her wrist, tugs her closer to him so that he can kiss her hard, the way that makes her toes curl. He's rewarded with the feel of her hand combing through his hair, a low hum rattling in her lungs.
"That's two fifty each. We've gotta have made at least seven mil each by now," Kate mutters between kisses, pressing closer against him, letting him pull her into his lap.
"No," he mutters against her lips, hands moving up her sides and making her arch her back.
Kate pulls away, hair adorably mussed and lips swollen. "No?"
"Together," he tells her. "Partners, Kate."
She blinks at him, frowning. "You mean - ?"
"We don't split the money anymore. Jeez, Kate, I'm never gonna leave you."
Her lips curl up into a smile. "You're not?"
"Never," he assures her.
Kate – the woman who less than twenty minutes ago threatened the lives of at least fifteen hostages while he stood and watched – ducks her head, hiding behind her hair and blushing a little. He loves her contradictions, the puzzling pieces of her – he just loves her. Through all of this, when she'd first found him two years ago stealing small sums from the cash registers of grocery stores, he's fallen for her everyday. Will never forget the way she's slowly let him in, the months of watching her introduce him to this way of life while simultaneously introducing him to her past, to her mother's unsolved murder. After the first time they'd slept together when she was still cold and guarded and clinical and had whispered my real name is Kate.
"I feel the same way, Castle," she murmurs, peering back up at him and brightening as he smiles.
"You are so hot when you rob banks, you know that?"
Kate laughs, throwing her head back as she does and linking her hands behind his head. "You say that every timeI do something illegal."
"My point still stands."
"Yeah, well," Kate leans forward, sucks his lower lip between hers teasingly. "You don't look so bad carrying bags of money."
He winds his arms around her; painting kisses down her neck. "I knew it. You're only after me for my money."
"Your money, huh?" She says, a little breathless as he sucks on her collarbone.
After that, there are no words. Just the hitch of her breath filling the silence around them. He palms her ass, gets her rocking in his lap and making his pants tight again. Adrenaline still buzzes through her, he can feel it in the eager exploration of her fingers against his chest, flirting with the promise of more. Tearing his mouth away from her collarbone, his own fingers find the button of her jeans, his mouth latching on to hers. Her tongue slicks against his and makes him growl while she grinds down on his lap, body all perfectly lithe against his.
Soon enough, he unbuttons her jeans, lets his fingers graze over her panties. Already he can feel her warmth but then she's jerking away, eyes wide.
"Not in the car. Anyone might drive along and find us," she tells him, moving to button her jeans despite the fact half of her lip-gloss is on his lips now and he's more than ready to do this.
"We just robbed a bank and you're averse to me getting you off in a car?"
Kate purses her lips, fingers pausing their ministrations and glaring at him.
"C'mon, live on the wild side," he teases, tugging her back down in his lap and he feels her relent, relaxing into him.
"You're an ass," she mutters against his lips.
"You're not wrong," he throws back, tugging her jeans down and forcing her to lift up and away from his lap for a minute. The jeans are too tight and he knows from experience that he won't be able to get enough space to get his fingers inside of her with them on, but soon enough they're past her knees and her warmth is back against him, lips working fervently against his and hips bucking as he runs his fingers over her through her panties.
It's not the time for teasing, though – she's already so worked up. Slipping his fingers beneath the fabric Castle finds her dripping and swollen, teasing her with light strokes that have her groaning into his mouth. Without any warning, he pushes two fingers into her, pressing his thumb against her clit. Kate practically rockets out of his lap, mouth disconnecting from his to let out a long, loud moan. She's always loud when they're together like this: wild and uninhibited.
"We're rich, Kate," he tells her, watching as her eyes go a little hazy from the pleasure. "I'm gonna buy you someplace. A house you deserve. Somewhere in the Hamptons."
"Yeah?" Kate pants, nails digging into the back of his neck.
"Yeah," he grits out, kissing her a little sloppily. "It'll be our place to get away from things. Then we'll stay at the best hotels. Anywhere you want, we'll go there – they won't even know they're harbouring a thief and a murderer. We'll disappear as soon as they start to suspect us; we'll still be stealing, of course. We'll move around a lot. Just you and me. Living on the edge, and when we need a break, we'll go back to the Hamptons."
The delicious sound of her wetness fills the car as he plunges his fingers in and out of her, thumb circling against her clit. Kate's head falls forward, burying her face in his neck and panting his name into his skin. Her hips rock desperately in time with his fingers, seeking release that can't be more than a minute away. Her thighs are already tense when he lets his free hand fall down on one, smoothing across the cream skin and making her shudder.
"I'm," she gets out, manages nothing else as she falls apart in his lap, his fingers relentless inside of her until she's oversensitive and hisses.
Still, she whines a little when he pulls his fingers from her, wiping their slickness against the inside of her thigh.
Eventually, Kate lifts her head, kisses him softly. It makes his heart pound.
"Let's go to the Hamptons. Right now."
Kate cocks her head. "You don't want to…?"
He groans when her fingers squeeze him through his jeans, letting his head fall back.
"Later. I wanna go house viewing, Beckett."
"You want to drive all the way to the Hamptons in this crappy little car?"
"Road trip!" He tells her, watching as she rolls her eyes fondly. "C'mon. You don't want me to buy you a house?"
It's a little – normal, actually. Their road trip. They take a detour back to their current hideout, a dingy little place on the lower east side. Kate changes her sodden underwear while he counts the money and adds it to the amount they've already made these past two years. Almost fifteen million. They're – they're actually rich.
The wind whips at Kate's hair on their way to the Hamptons, sunlight colouring her skin golden. She links hands with him as she actually lets him drive, laughing at his inane jokes and talking about ridiculously normal things like the price of college tuition and backpacking around Europe.
They pull up at the grandest, fanciest house they spot. The one that makes Kate's eyes go wide. The sun is setting now, the sky loud and orange as a backdrop against the white house. She doesn't hesitate to step out of the car.
"It's beautiful," she exhales.
He stands beside her, roping a hand around her waist. "Wanna go inside?"
They find the porch doors around the back unlocked, and Kate eases into the house quietly. He follows behind her unobtrusively, but his footsteps always sound so clumsy in comparison to the practised silence of hers.
Music floats through the halls and Kate pauses, pressing a hand to his chest to make him stop too. They stand there for a minute, Kate listening, and he knows she's thinking of a plan. Soon enough she's pulling her gun from her holster and is moving forwards in weaver stance. Castle pushes his shoes off, following a little more quietly now, holding his breath as they stand in the doorway to the living room. There's a couple on the couch, probably mid forties, discussing whether there's any truth in the theory of babies and Mozart.
Kate's grip on her gun tightens. Her eyes narrow. He watches in awe.
The man instantly falls forward, his blood spraying the walls and his wife. The woman screams, turning to find Kate in the doorway. Castle's heart thumps loudly when Kate doesn't shoot. She wants to have fun with this one.
It's always like this. With women.
Kate moves forwards to the screaming woman, grabbing her by the hair and throwing her to the floor. The screams die out and are replaced with sobbing, her hands coming up to press against her husband's blood on her cheeks as she begs for mercy.
Kate shoves her gun in the holster and he leans casually against the back of the couch, observing. The woman holds her breath, thinking his partner has changed her mind, but then Kate lands a solid kick against her ribs.
Their screams always rattle in his chest somewhere, someplace distant. He glances over at the man and studies his cloudy eyes. Dead eyes. A little thrill runs through his spine knowing his partner, the woman he's in love with, did that. She's an unstoppable force, fearless and intimidating, always getting what she wants and knowing she deserves it. It's one of the sick and twisted reasons he fell in love with her.
"Fight back!" He hears Kate yell, and when he looks over at her she's pulled the wife up with a hand at her throat, flexing.
But the woman doesn't, continues sobbing incoherently. He watches Kate's jaw clench as she releases the woman before throwing an uppercut that sends the woman sprawling. He can see the ripple of Kate's muscles beneath her tank top, the strength she wields. Sees it again as she yells and stamps down on the woman's stomach, making her cry out, while Kate's eyes go wild and her hair splays around her shoulders.
Her voice is hoarse now, and he can see the beginning of tears in her eyes. The woman continues to sob. He steps forward.
She looks over at him, breathing heavy, nostrils flaring over being interrupted.
"You've had your fun," he says, though he knows she hasn't.
Kate stares at him for a long moment. Until her breathing calms. Then, careful and calculated, distance in her eyes, she pulls her switchblade from back pocket of her jeans. The woman whimpers when she sees it.
It's only a matter of seconds. Kate pulls her up by her hair and then slices her throat; blood spurts from the wound but his partner only tosses her aside.
He moves closer, stands beside her. She's watching as the woman makes awful gurgling noises and spasms violently.
"Why don't they ever fight back?" She whispers, and he knows it runs deeper than this.
"I don't know," he answers. "But – you're pretty hot when you do."
Kate rolls her eyes, tucking her blood-smothered blade away. "See? You say it every time."
"You're very hot."
She huffs at him, but weaves her fingers with his. "Let's go see the rest of the house."
It's beautiful, of course. And she loves it. He can see it in her eyes, the way she stares around in wonder. And she tightens her grip on his hand at the view from the bedroom, the ocean that stretches on endlessly in front of them. Yeah. They don't need to look anywhere else. This is it.
"Well, the good news is that I'm sure it'll be on the market soon. I'm not sure the current tenants will be staying for much longer."
Kate laughs, turning away from the window to toy with the buttons of his shirt.
"Is that so?"
Want radiates from her, and who is he to deny her? He lets his hands drift down her sides, gentle, barely there, making her lick her lips.
"Wanna christen the place?"
Her eyes dilate at that, and he leans in, kisses her roughly. Yes, she is fierce and intimidating and always, always fearless – but she loves it when he takes control, loves it when she's nothing but melting bones and skin beneath him. They can do slow and gentle when it matters, of course, and she's fond of cuffing him to the bed and having her wicked way with him – but this. This turns her on more than anything else, giving in completely to him.
He pulls away suddenly, making her chase after his lips.
"You like that, don't you? The thought of us in the bed of the couple you just killed?"
Kate nods desperately, unbuttoning his shirt hurriedly. "Yes, yes."
Gloating, Castle bats her hands away, tugging her tank top over her head. She submits, lifting her arms above her to assist him. Her back arches when his palms splay across her stomach, wind round her ribs as his thumbs brush the wires of her bra.
"Get on the bed. Don't move."
On shaking legs, Kate moves over to it, settles herself against the pillows. She watches, fingers curling into the sheets, as he undresses at the end of the bed unashamedly, before crawling over her.
He starts with her lips. Soft and submissive beneath his own, following his lead. He feels her relax and then stops, moves to dust kisses against her jaw and her neck. Once he reaches her collarbone he searches beneath her for the clasp of her bra, tossing it away without care and stroking his tongue between the valley of her breasts. That gets him the soft, light sigh he loves to draw out from her, but he doesn't repeat his action, instead moves his lips to her right breast and takes her peak into his mouth.
Her hands move to his hair, breath coming in little pants that makes his groin ache. Too soon, he knows, he moves away, but she doesn't protest as much as she may want to – continues to provide him with all of the control.
Castle tongues her navel, begins pulling her black jeans down her long toned legs. After, he kisses his way back up, driving her wild. Her hips pitch up but he pushes them back down, sliding her panties aside and watching the way she holds her breath. She loves this. Loves when he goes down on her, drives her to the edge with his lips and tongue and fingers. He loves it, too, the way she reacts so sensitively to him doing this.
But that's not what he wants.
To tease, he slicks his tongue through her once, humming at the taste. Kate cries out, gritting her teeth when he moves away and doesn't provide her with anything else.
"You owe me," he murmurs into her ear, nibbling softly on the sensitive spot of her neck.
Kate curls her hand around the nape of his neck. "You want me to - ?"
"No," he says, pinning her hands above her and watches as her breath goes shallow, eyes wide. "I don't want you to do anything."
Kate nods eagerly; letting him use her body in all the ways they both want. He releases his grip on her wrists and reaches down to rip the thin lace of her panties from her – normally she would berate him for that, chastise him about how much underwear costs. This time she is silent, all wide eyes and vulnerability beneath him, a complete contradiction to the woman he witnessed kill two innocent people half an hour ago. Both versions of her make him groan.
Without warning, he pushes into her, revelling in the way she cries out, surprised. He doesn't give her time to adjust, thrusts into her with a force that makes the bed rattle.
Kate's eyes roll. "Castle."
He pushes her thighs wider apart, driving him deeper. Leaning down, forearms resting against either side of her head, he kisses her roughly. She moans into his mouth, making him grind down short and fast into her.
She nods, hands raising up to wrap around his biceps. "Yes," she breathes. "Yes."
She's always speechless – like this. He can be chatty, playful, can make her laugh even in the wake of all the things they do. This is not one of those times.
Her stomach ripples with restraint, and he knows she can't hold back the roll of her hips against his. He bites down on her neck in retaliation, not bothering to soothe the sting with his tongue – she always loves a slight edge of pain.
He wraps his arms beneath her, criss-crossing as his hands cup her shoulder blades. They're chest to chest, her moans and sighs ghosting across his ear as he grinds down into her. She's going to be the ruin of him. He knows it already: if anything's going to drive him to death it's going to be her, and their adventures, and the way she sighs his name like it's the only thing that matters. She's all that really matters to him in this world.
"Castle," she pants, clutching at his back. "I'm so – "
"Me too," he grunts out, wishing he could last longer but he was already so wound up from the car and the robbery and the murders that he's barely clinging on now. "Let go, Kate."
Her nails dig into his skin.
"Come for me. Right now," he orders, his fingers finding her clit.
Instantly, her head snaps back against the pillows, body freezing for mere seconds before she falls over the edge, crying out his name. She's so warm and snug and tight around him and everything, really, and he spills into her merely seconds later, groaning.
Kate doesn't complain as he collapses on top of her, completely spent. Just threads her hands through his hair and breathes.
"Thank you," she says softly.
He shifts, leaning on one forearm to look down at her.
"What did I do?"
She smiles. "You stay."
He laughs – because where else would he go? This isn't where he thought his life would lead, admittedly. But he can't see himself anywhere else but her side now.
"I love you," he tells her, as though it's obvious. Really, couldn't she tell?
He expects her to push him away. To tell him to get back to business. Clean up the mess they've made and begin working on new identities if they're going to buy this house. Methodical. That's how she normally is when he gets too emotional.
Her gaze goes soft, though. She lifts up slightly to kiss him gently.
"I love you too."