Prompt beneath the chapter as it's pretty long. This will be a three shot, already fully written - just needs to go through a final edit.

Kate Beckett has been unemployed for almost four weeks. She's been out of a job for nearly an entire month and it still feels weird not having to wake up to the shrill ringing of her phone, not having to go into the precinct –

Not seeing Castle.

She reflects on that fateful day a lot, she thinks about the decisions she made and the ties she severed as a result of them. Sometimes she regrets her actions – she's not afraid to admit to that now. It's not that she regrets that she quit her job or that she let her sniper get away, mostly it's the fact that she'd let Castle walk out of her life so easily without trying to stop him. Some days she finds herself waking up half expecting him to call her, to blow up her phone with never ending text messages, but she's always disappointed. It's been four weeks and she hasn't heard a single peep from him.

Beckett can't really fault him. She let him go without so much as acknowledging the fact that he had professed his love for her (again!). She knows she has every right to be angry about him keeping secrets from her, but after personally seeing what could happen, after being at the receiving end of the brutal beat down that nearly ended her life, she can concede that Castle had had good reason to keep his secrets from her.

So a month and two days after Castle walked out of her life, she finds herself walking briskly to his apartment at eleven in the morning, a tray of coffee and a bag of cronuts in hand. She misses him terribly and now that she's gotten a little look at what her life looks like without his constant presence by her side, she wants to fix it. Castle doesn't even know that she's no longer a detective. Doesn't know that a month ago, she nearly died with his name on her lips and his face in her mind.

His doorman lets her up without preamble, not a stranger to her frequent visits, more frequent especially in the last year or so since her shooting. She smiles at him and gets into the elevator, giving him a wave as the doors slide shut.

What would he say? Would he even want to talk to her? She'd tried calling earlier in the morning when she had decided she wanted to visit him, but her call had gone straight to voicemail. She arrives on his floor and she takes a deep breath before knocking on his door.

It's quiet and she's not surprised. She figures Castle's alone – she vaguely recalls him telling her about Alexis and his mother going to Europe after the younger girl graduated. A stray thought enters her mind and she's suddenly afraid he might have left for the Hamptons for the summer.

She's about to knock for one last time when the front door flies open to reveal a rather dishevelled looking Richard Castle blinking dumbly at her.

"Beckett." His eyes travel from her face to the tray of coffees and the bag in her hand, then back to her face. "What do you want?"

Even though she expects the hostility in his voice, it still hurts. She smiles at him nervously and clears her throat. "I thought you might like some breakfast?"

"I've already eaten," is his reply, even though it's glaringly obvious that he's been nowhere near his kitchen or had a sip of coffee. "So you can go now."

She blinks at him, taking in the weariness and the bags under his eyes. He hasn't been sleeping well. She suddenly wishes for once that she hadn't been so stubborn, so awfully afraid of him and his feelings for her. She feels the familiar pang of regret as she realises that all this could have been so easily avoided.

"I don't want to go, Rick."

She uses his first name and it feels a little foreign on her tongue. He notices it as well, his eyebrows rising at it. She lifts the bag in her hand and the coffees tip precariously in the tray. "I ... I really want to talk. Over breakfast?"

She sees the moment his resolve breaks, his shoulders slumping forward and he lets out a sigh. Backing away from the doorway, he opens his door a little wider and steps aside as he beckons for her to enter.

Her heart stutters with the hope that she hasn't completely ruined them. He's letting her in, physically at the moment, but maybe it's a sign he's about to let her in emotionally too and her confidence is buoyed by this. She makes her way to his kitchen, already so familiar with his loft that she moves on autopilot, taking out his plates and dividing up the cronuts for them.

"What ... do you want to talk about?"

Evidently, Castle's not letting her stall and beat around the bush. She can understand that. Beckett looks up at him from behind the kitchen counter. He's pulled his robe tighter around himself, his hair flopping over his eyes and he looks adorable, save for the suspicious glare he's currently aiming at her.

"Um, about how we left things. Before. And about how I feel ... I just." She comes out from behind the counter and walks up to him. "A lot of things have happened in the last month and I wanted to talk to you about them."

"You were perfectly clear about the choice you made last time I saw you, Beckett. You know where I stand with that. It's too early for me to go at it again with you," he says her name like it's poison in his mouth and once again she feels a the river of hurt flow through her veins. He gives her a frustrated stare and rubs his hand over his face.

"I'm not apologising for what I did if that's what you're here for, and if I had to do it all over again, I still wouldn't change a thing."

"I know," she responds quickly. "I'm not here to ask you to apologise."

"Oh." He's taken aback, eyes widening in surprise. There's a hint of curiosity in his gaze but his usually clear blue eyes are still clouded over, he's clearly still wary of her. "You're not?"

"I ... um, I screwed up," the words feel thick and clunky as they leave her lips. She holds out Castle's coffee but he merely looks at it, refusing to even take another step towards her. She sets the takeaway cup down on his counter and sucks in a shaky breath. She walks around the counter and clasps her hands together nervously. He hasn't moved away and she takes it as a good omen.

"Castle, I understand why you did it. Why you thought you had to keep it from me. And I know it couldn't have been easy for you, and I get it. I forgive you. I forgive you for everything, Castle." She's taken a few steps forward and she's so close to him now she can smell the faint remnants of the cologne he would have had on before he went to bed. It reminds her of the precinct, of late nights spent brain storming over steaming cups of coffee and her heart yearns to relive those moments again. She studies his stony expression, his eyes dark and stormy instead of the clear blue she's so accustomed to.

The silence that falls between them is unnatural. She's not used to Castle being quiet, not used to him standing so still and it strikes her suddenly that she might actually be too late. His stillness is scary and what if –

What if he's already moved on?

The thought is frightening so Beckett does the only thing she can think of. It's a move borne out of desperation, but she's never been one for words anyway. He's the writer and she's more of the 'take action' half of their partnership.

It's gutsy, Beckett realises. But what else can she do? Her lips crash against his and it takes them both by surprise. Her hands travel up his sides, clutching his robe tightly and pulling him bodily against her. He stumbles against her clumsily, his hands coming up to her shoulders to steady them both but his lips never leave hers. He's soft and pliable, his lips pressing silkily against hers. Her tongue peeks out between her lips and she sweeps it across his, tasting him for the second time in her life.

Oh.

His lips part and she can tell that he has zero resistance to what's happening. His palms splay wide at her back and pulls her close, pressing her body to his. He groans as their tongues touch and she feels him walking them backwards towards his living room.

He's intoxicating. He tastes like freedom and she basks in it. His hands travel downwards, the heat of him warming her through the thin material of her shirt, and descend towards the waistband of her jeans. He cups her ass and she moans at the contact, her own fingers trailing along the soft terrycloth sleeve of his robe. She grips his biceps, nipping at his bottom lip and gasps when he lifts her, her legs automatically coming up to wrap around the outside of his thighs.

She notices she's being lowered – onto his couch, she supposes – and suddenly his body looms over her and he's pressing himself against her. His weight is delicious and comforting, his lips burning a trail down the length of her neck. Her legs tighten around him, their bodies rocking sinfully against one another.

Castle's hands are everywhere all at once, slipping underneath her top, inching past her waistband and fingering the elastic of her panties. He scrapes his stubble along her jaw and she moans at the sensations coursing through her body. His lips meet hers again and this time the tentativeness is gone and the kiss he bestows upon her is bruising. She basks in his attention and her fingers come up to tangle in the short strands of his hair.

She doesn't know how long they make out on his couch, but she feels his arousal through the thin material of his boxers, scorching against her stomach. His robe's open and fluttering against the couch, threatening to fall right off his body. She's about to fling the damn thing entirely off him when a door slams and she's startled out of her haze of pleasure. A curious voice calls out from somewhere in the apartment.

"Dad? ... What-"

They fly apart as if they've been electrocuted.

Castle falls from the couch but picks himself up quickly, readjusting his robe, making sure the evidence of his excitement is properly hidden. They both turn towards the entrance of the loft and sees the bewilderment on Alexis' face. She's stock still just inside of the doorway, hand still around the handle of a large suitcase. Her eyes are wide and questioning, accusing, even and Beckett notices that her pupils are darting back and forth between her and her dad.

"Uh Alexis," Castle says, walking towards his daughter. "You're back early!"

"No ... I'm not. It's twelve, Dad. Right on time," Alexis says slowly, still taking in the scene before her. She pulls her dad into a tight hug, but her eyes are still fixed on Beckett over his shoulders.

"Hi, Detective," she says warily.

Beckett gets off the couch biting her lip and nods at the younger girl. "Uh, hi Alexis. Did you have a good trip?"

Alexis peels herself out of her father's embrace and smiles. "I did, yes. Grams is a wonderful travel buddy."

A silence befalls the three of them and it's awkward. Beckett detects a slight tension in the look that Alexis is giving her and she doesn't blame her. Castle's undoubtedly told her about their previous falling out and the girl is entitled to feel a little protective of her father.

"So uh. There are cronuts on the ... in the kitchen. I um, I'm gonna go. Errands to uh, run," Beckett says. She walks towards the entrance, still a little off kilter. She doesn't know how to say goodbye to him so she merely brushes past him and smiles tentatively at the two Castles.

"Welcome home, Alexis. And uh, see ya Castle," she mumbles before letting herself out of the loft.

The door shuts behind her and she leans against it, taking in a few deep breaths to calm her stuttering heart.

What the hell just happened?

Prompt: S5 fic where Always didn't happen and they aren't together. They know each others secrets. They carry on as if nothing happened, but they both still want each other. One day Kate comes over and they're alone for the first time since the downfall in 4x23. they end up heavily making out on the couch and she's straddling him when Alexis walks in with a friend engrossed in convo. She jumps off him, but has to clench her legs together. UST gets stronger until they finally manage to get alone again.

Thank you Alex, for reading through all of this for me!

Twitter: estheryam
Tumblr: griever11