Six months, 24 weeks, 180 something days since she said not yet. Six months of talks, tears, and work. So much work. He knew he was taking a chance proposing when he did but he has never been one to fully think things through. At the time she had said not yet, ask me again after we're back on more solid ground. He accepted her answer, however, he's wanted to ask her every day since but has been too afraid.
His gaze falls to the sleeping form next him, his hand tracing languidly along her back. She's beautiful when she sleeps. She's beautiful when she's awake. She's beautiful when she's angry, when she's sad and when she's frustrated. He's seen all her emotions these last six months as they've worked to re-connect and move forward. He's never had to work so hard for something that should be so easy. Hopes, fears, dreams, they've come spilling out of both of them since that fateful day in May. Hope, for fixing the mess they created. Fears of not being able to fix "them", their pasts and of not ever being enough. Dreams of their future, a life, a wedding and maybe children. Everything was thrown on the table, sorted, picked apart and put back together. The pieces of their puzzle put back together, glued in place, solidifying their future. Yes, there is still work to be done, in any relationship the work is ongoing, however, their base is solid now and can be built upon.
Gliding, gliding hands, they trace up and down her back as he watches her sleep. He's amazed that she stayed, that he stayed, that they're becoming one. Trace and glide, trace and glide, trace and glide.
"Yes."
He's startled by her voice, husky with sleep.
"What?" He says out loud
"Yes, Castle, I'll marry you."
He's confused. "I thought we agreed that I would ask you again at a more appropriate time?"
"You just did."
Suddenly, he understands. His hands have done the asking, writing the question on her back while she slept.
Trace and glide, trace and glide.