got a thing about you (rp for already_hateyou)

[always_a_story]

He tried to send messages back to her, but she replied to none of them. It didn't take a genius to figure out he was being blown off, and after the dream he'd had...a stupid, random, oddly powerful dream that had shown him the future...he wasn't ready to deal with this. He felt sick, crazed, and still breathless over what he'd seen in his vision

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[already_hateyou]

Beckett had heard her sidekick buzzing from the dresser drawer she'd locked it in, but she'd ignored it by turning on some music and digging a bottle of wine out of a kitchen cabinet. It was a good red wine, meant to be sipped and savored.

Kate did not sip and savor. Not tonight. She wanted the pleasant buzz and the warmth, and that was achieved by drinking.

So, she drank.he did not want Richard Goddamned Castle pounding on her door.

Beckett meandered aimlessly toward her front door, her second, nearly empty glass of wine, tilting this way and as she toyed with it. She wondered if he really would stand out there all night. At this point, she just might let him.

...But then, she was a cop. That meant she needed to keep the peace. Or something.

Sighing, Beckett set her wineglass down and crossed the rest of the way to the door, flipping the lock and pulling the door open. She didn't say a word, just turned right back around and retrieved her wine glass. He could let himself in.

[always_a_story]

Which was exactly what he did, opening the door the rest of the way and shutting it behind him. His mind was going a mile a minute, and when he turned around to find her back to him again, he felt like a pillow was over his face. He was suffocating, and he didn't know why, didn't have the words...

Richard Castle was a lot of things, but at a loss for words was not one of them.

Yet there he stood, Beckett walking away from him like he wasn't even there, and it made breathing impossible.

Look at me. I'm here. He's not. That matters, goddamnit.Crossing until he was behind her, Richard caught her arm and spun her around. Plucking the wine glass out of her hand, he tossed it aside, not caring that he stained her carpet, not caring that the glass shattered and went everywhere. Cleanup was for later

[already_hateyou]

Had her reflexes been sharper, she might've managed to stop him. Pull her arm out of his grasp, push him away, do something other than stare at him with her mouth hanging open as he half plucked, half knocked her wineglass out of her hand.

She was still half in shock as he hauled her in and took full advantage of her gaping lips to plunder her mouth. There was none of the suaveness she would've expected--not that she'd ever imagined kissing him, because she hadn't, goddammit--it was all teeth and tongue, demand and anger.

Her body reacted before her brain could catch up, refusing to stand there and be assaulted, giving back as good as she got. She raked her hands through his hair and gripped tight, caught his lower lip between her teeth and bit down, swiped her tongue across the sting.

[always_a_story]

There was something to be said for being angry, bitter...even hurt, but there was something both wrong and right about kissing her this way. Right, because he could finally breathe again, with her hands snarled in his hair and her teeth on his lip and all her attention on him...every cell, every neuron, every ounce of her focus was for him and him alone. He could relax, he could stop scrambling because he understood now that, somewhere along the line, vying for even her annoyance had transitioned into a debilitating state of being where he couldn't draw a breath unless she was counting each one