So! This story was born completely out of my own self-aggrandizing desire for Esplanie fluff, which is frustratingly NOT fulfilled around the internet. So, I'LL do it. ;) It's not really smut, because that's really not my style, but it gets close (because I couldn't help it). XD Hence the higher rating of this story. If you don't like it, just don't follow this story, okay? Or if Esplanie isn't interesting enough for you, then mentally replace the names with Castle and Beckett. I'm well aware that a lot of Caskett-only 'shippers won't even look twice at this story, so it won't disappoint me. That's okay; I've got my fun. ^_^ (I DO love Caskett too, but I get SO SICK of EVERY SINGLE STORY being about Caskett! Now it's Esplanie's turn.) ;)

Each chapter is going to be a different 'escapade' for Esplanie. It'll fade out for the actual act, but it'll mostly be a lot of dates and rendezvous and general fangirl-y goodness. ^^ Each chapter is its own oneshot, and this story is where I'll be putting all my higher-rated oneshots, so it'll be ongoing. Updates whenever I feel like it.

I do not own Castle - though if Jon Huertas ever called me up and said "Hey, you want in on this," I'd be out the door faster than you can say "apples." XD

Oh - and thanks to my friends ApollaCammi, Cait and Mollie. They know why. It's their fault. ;)



Detective Javier Esposito walked out of his closet (not a walk-in, by the way; it was just that thorough a search) pulling an ash-brown hoodie down over his head. No sooner was it on than his girlfriend replaced it in his line of sight, sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling on a pair of socks for the day. She looked up when she heard him coming.

"You're wearin' that to work?" she asked, after evaluating what was different for a moment. One eyebrow inched toward her hairline in mild surprise.

"All I got left," he answered, walking to the dresser. "Least until the weekend. 'Less you want me to rob my gym bag."

"How is that all you got left?"

Putting his wallet in his back pocket, Javier threw her a little look. "You ripped open my last button-down."

Lanie's arms crossed immediately. "I did not! When?"

"Think back about ten hours."

"…Oh. Right." Damn straight, and worth every second. Hey, if things were up to her, the man would never be in a shirt at all. "Okay, well you can't tell me that that was the last one you owned."

"I owned nine."


"And you've ripped nine."

Lanie harrumphed, even though she mentally dared anyone in the universe to blame her. She was fairly sure they wouldn't. "I don't believe you."

Somewhere between amused and resolute, Javier marched over, pulled open his third drawer, and showed her the disheveled graveyard of poly-cotton and snapped thread. (He'd kept the carcasses in the hopes that one of Castle's tailors could take pity on him Otherwise, the last resort was shopping.) He waved a hand at the mess like Vanna at the letterboard. "Questions?"

Well. Not much to say to that. Lanie uncrossed her legs and slid off the bed, holding her chin high as she went toward the drawer he kept for her. "Well if you'd learn to take it off faster this wouldn't be a problem," was the defense she settled on.

Sliding his gun into its holster, Javier came around her other side and left a parting kiss on her neck. (Not her lips, not her cheek, her neck, because he was a bastard like that. It screamed 'take a sick day' every time.) "Been your job since day uno, cariño, I think I'm good with that."

"Mm-hm." Hey, she wasn't going to be giving any ground. There was no way her face was going to show anything but mild amusement until he was well out the door - then and only then would she allow herself to sigh into a puddle for a few indulgent seconds.

"Lock up when you leave," Javier said, dropping his badge around his neck as he headed for the door. He'd gone only a few steps, though, when he suddenly stopped, patting around all the pockets of his hoodie and jeans, turning to look around the room. "Oh, man. You seen my keys?"

Mentally double-taking, Lanie cocked her head and looked at him, going off on a different train of thought all together. "Hold on. You only owned nine?"

"Well, yeah. How many you think I need? I'm a guy, not…Carrie Bradshaw."

"Oh, my God," she practically choked; "boy, you are so metrosexual for even knowing that."

"I'll refrain from comment," Javier replied dryly, giving his eyes a roll. Then, more persistently, went right back to spinning around, 'looking' for his keys. "Now where…"

Lanie knew exactly what he was doing. And it wasn't going to work. She turned around, folding her arms and giving her best smirk of all-knowing girlpower. "Uh-huh. I'd check the living room. That's where everything else seemed to end up."

"Or you could help me look," he suggested, slipping into a sly grin.

Not yet girl. "Nice try. More like help you look at my ass while I look."

"Eh. Maybe. Same thing."

"You know, I don't think you lost a damn thing - except your mind. I'd vouch for that one," Lanie quipped. And…well, could she help it if she was a drifting a little closer? And so what; maybe there was just a little seduction in her voice. He had to be taught that two could play at that game. Boys never learn. "But hey: you go on ahead and go to work with the thug look. I might just happen to think you can pull it off."

"Oooh. Was that a double-entendre, Dr. Parish?" Somehow, somewhere in the gravitation, his arms managed to snake their way around her waist, and he tugged her up against him, his voice a dial lower than it'd been before.

Oh, Lanie knew that look in his eye. Part of her knew that she had to resist, there was work at the morgue to do…but a much bossier part of her brain made the other side shut up. He wasn't getting out of here without exactly what he was asking for, because she wanted to make crystal-clear sure that she'd be on his mind for the rest of the ridiculously long day.

"Might've been," she cooed, her mouth dangerously close to his. She moved it teasingly to his ear, whispering, "Not like you'll ever know."

"Oh, I think I got a guess," he murmured, fooling with the miniscule strap of her short, dark satin nightgown.

"You are just determined to get some before you get in to work, aren't you." Inevitability. She was already breathless.

"If the lady obliges…"

"The lady wishes you'd shut up and go with it before she changes her mind…"

She was already kissing him, and Javier had already spun her to the wall. Barely remembering to have a little courtesy on the man's laundry supply, Lanie made quick work of raking that hoodie right back over his head, his badge hitting the carpet along with it. She pawed her hands down his chest, all the way down until her fingers hooked in the belt loops of his jeans, instructing him as to exactly how close she wanted him.

Javier broke the kiss to move down to her neck, leaving a trail of heat there that she was sure would have her reaching for the turtleneck today. If there was any woman out there who had ever questioned his supreme ability at this, then screw them, and good for her. Because Lanie was ten steps past losing her rational mind. "You…crow once at this precinct," she panted, "and I will kill you…beyond recognition."

"Price I can live with," he managed back, his breath hot on her jawline. By the time he had the satin falling crumpled to the floor, she'd made sure his jeans followed them, and the rest took care of itself. Thankfully, the fates were kind enough not to interrupt their morning with a body. They really didn't need another one. Two worked fine.




Kate Beckett pulled her keys out of the ignition, got out of her car with a coffee in hand, and locked it up behind her, venturing down into the OCME. She made quick work of her usual route, wanting to get these results over with so that she and Lanie could maybe have a few minutes alone. It seemed like weeks since they'd talked.

With an elbow, Beckett pushed open one of the heavy double-doors to the main exam room. "Hey, Lanie."

"Hey, there you are," the familiar friendly voice greeted her. "About time you showed up. I've got three new red lights on Mr. Dougherty and he did not go quietly."

Beckett took in her friend's greeting, but something was distracting her…something was different. About Lanie. The darker woman had her back to Beckett, which gave the detective plenty of studying opportunity… Lanie had her hair up. Twisted into a clip. In the years Kate had worked with her, Lanie Parish had never, ever worn her hair up, not at work anyway. Short, maybe, but up? No. At least not all the way…unless it was beyond salvage to be worn down...huh. And…oh, that was definitely a dark blue turtleneck under that white coat.

"Oh my God, Lanie, are you serious? Tell me you are kidding right now," she gawped suddenly.

Lanie turned around, giving her best friend a confused eyebrow. "Kate, honey, you do know crack kills, right?"

Kate lowered her voice to a stage-whisper…which, was still pretty loud, actually. Part of her wanted to laugh at the absurdity here - Lanie Parish running around acting like a teenager - and another four or five parts just wanted to crawl off and die. "Is that why Esposito was late this morning?"

Lanie's jaw fell open, and she gaped like a fish a few times before settling on some words. "Girl, how in the hell…?"

"Because you never put your hair up, unless it's a total mess, according to you. And it's sixty-five degrees. You really wanna justify a turtleneck?" Ew, ew, ew. This was the part of her friends' relationship that Beckett never wanted in on. Bad images. Was there a flight to Cancun she could jump on right about now?

Lanie skirted around her, wiping off some of the tools on the exam tray. "Could we just not talk about this now? How 'bout that, 'cause I like that idea."

"Well, did you?" Kate urged. …What? Sue her; she was still female.

"Yes," Lanie sighed. "Now in the interest of being adults, why don't we move on to Mr. Dougherty here."

Despite being halfway to permanent mental scars, Kate felt a smirk sneak onto her face, and for just a second, she felt her high school self showing through, too. She just couldn't help it. "I think you'd know a little about 'the interest of being adults.' But sure. Yes. We're done now."

Lanie gave her a look as she pulled the correct drawer from its socket. "Good. Because I'd hate to have to smack you."

And no one talked about it again.



^_^ And thus, "good morning" was re-invented. ;) Poor Kate. Part of her wants to girltalk, and the other never wants to picture Esposito that way ever again. Gotta torture her a little. It's fun. XD

As always, anyone ages 14 and over who're interested in roleplaying as a Castle character on a writing-based Castle roleplaying forum, please go to my profile and check out the bolded paragraph. We accept OCs too. Thanks. :]

Liked it? Are you onboard with a series of Esplanie lovin'? REVIEW! xD (And I haven't exactly published this before, so, letting me know what you liked best/favorite parts REALLY does help.) I adore reviews and my reviewers too, so please don't hesitate to take a sec!

More of these to come. ;)