An Impossibility

She's trying to concentrate, really she is, but the paperwork that has been steadily piling up on her desk since Monday morning is quickly becoming second best to the ocean eyes that roam heatedly over her entire body, their owner a distraction so trilling that Beckett is balanced on the very edge of losing herself to him completely. She is doing all that she can to ignore the hold he has over her, to blow out a little puff of air in the direction of her beautiful writer and silently tell him that she needs to get her work finished, but the dusky blush of her cheeks is a sure giveaway that she is enjoying their little game of flirtation far more than is perhaps safe for the precinct.

It has always been this way between them; no matter how much she used to want to tell herself otherwise, deep down Beckett has always known that Castle had her under his spell from the very second he walked into the precinct and claimed the chair at the foot of her desk as his own. His eyes so blue, the deepest of oceans and the darkest of nights never quite able to fulfil their beauty, always observing her, admiring her, writing the story that nobody else has ever taken the time to uncover. Every glance in her direction an admittance of love, making her feel safe in ways she had once thought belonged only to the fairy stories of her childhood.
They both knew that she never stood a chance, neither of them did; Richard Castle set eyes upon Katherine Beckett and the world realised that it could never permit him to look away again.

Since they have been together his effect on her has only increased; because now he is allowed to watch her, to distract her. Everyday sitting so dangerously close that the warmth of his body radiates against her ivory skin, the wind that rattles its way through the ancient windows of the twelfth soothed by the sparks of want that reverberate between them as they sit like two teenagers wrapped up in the reckless whirlwind of first love.
But today it feels like more than anything Beckett has ever experienced before; because today is their first Valentine's Day as a couple, and she is sure that if she were to look up from the paperwork keeping her barely tied the realms of professionalism, she would surely fall headlong into her desire to throw caution to the rules and show the world how truly she loves the man sitting mere inches from her lust-tingled body.


Another hour passes by in the bitter-sweet torture of having Castle so tantalisingly close, and yet even on the most romantic day of the year not being able to leave behind their promise of keeping their relationship a secret whilst at the precinct. An hour in which Beckett has agonized over every neatly printed word on the yellowing sheets of paper in front of her; searching for the strength to think only of the elongated flick of her handwriting as her pen scratches frustratedly over its mundane canvas, and not her desperate longing to share with Castle the magic of Valentine's Day.
Just as Beckett's pleasurably haunted mind is screaming out at her to send Castle away to the breakroom before she caves under his affection and does something they will both regret, the distinctive creak of Gates' office door rings out across the bullpen, alerting them both to their captain as she weaves her way slowly towards the elevator doors, bidding her team a quick hello before heading down to the lobby to collect the old case files she had ordered for the day.

Suddenly Beckett is filled with the knowledge that this tiny window of safety from their captain will be the only opportunity for her and Castle to be together without raising too much suspicion, but for a moment she is powerless to the battle that rages between her head and her heart; one playing the detective and one the lover, the cautious and the carefree.
Closing her eyes to the fluorescent lights and endless chatter of the precinct, she gives into her desire and allows her heart to win, to take courage from the teasing run of Castle's index finger as he dares to write sprawling patterns against the fabric of her trousers, hidden beneath her desk and edging delicately from the tickle of her knee to the curve of her thigh. His touch careful, controlled, and yet somehow unravelling her heart more and more with every blissful millisecond of contact; propelling Beckett into her decision to live, if only for a moment, not as Detective Beckett, but simply as Kate, a woman very much in love and willing to risk the world as she knows it to make sure that Castle knows this.


The drum of her heart is a marching band of giddy excitement, a thrill of life as their feet stride through the precinct in perfect unison, every step bringing them closer to the heavy fire door that leads to the staircase so few people remember exists. The metal bar a shock of cold against her clammy palms, the neon 'exit' sign that shines high above them a beacon to their souls, welcoming them both to the ethereal delights of Valentine's Day as they try to pass through its light unnoticed by their colleagues.
Kate reaches out for Castle's hand as soon as the door pulls itself shut behind them, fingers needy as they entwine together, holding tight and running as fast as they can to the corridor they know awaits them just a few floors up. Their very own secret reverie from the bustle of their professional lives, a little slice of the precinct in which they can simply enjoy the fleeting moments of tenderness that they so rarely afford themselves at work.
Reaching their destination with feet still stepped together; Kate pulls Castle fast towards the far corner of the platform that joins the two staircases leading down from the roof, her body flush to his chest as her thudding heart fights to recover from adrenaline that courses deliciously through her veins. Looking up, she finds Castle's exquisite eyes watching her as they had been at her desk, dark with lust and sparkling with magic, laughter falling fearlessly from their lips even as she tightens her grip on the strong weight of his shoulders, searching for the breath to speak aloud the words that they both know she brought them here to say.

"Happy Valentine's Day," she whispers, voice etched with love as their noses bump with the funny little Eskimo kisses that will forever remain an echo of their first night together.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love," replies Castle, bodies a breath apart as their words tumble together, his strong hands reaching out to lovingly caress her cheeks, thumbs pressed to the soft line of her jaw and fingertips seeking permission to capture her smiling lips.

But Beckett doesn't need words to reply, her mouth hot and heavy against Castle's, knowing that they could be caught at any moment but kissing him regardless. Kissing him because to not do so was an impossibility when her heart ached so desperately for his touch; the fleeting glimmer of their love a promise of all that their first Valentine's would hold when they finally made it home that night, and of the always that was theirs to cherish until the end of time.