The bedroom is in near complete darkness. Only the waning moonlight, even more wan through late summer rain clouds, and the shine of the tablet resting on Kate's knees, cast illumination. She doesn't acknowledge him when he stands in the doorway. He raps his knuckles softly against the door frame to get her attention, and she tilts her gaze up with an unreadable expression on her face.
"I'm sorry I yelled," he says.
"I'm not mad."
Not really an acceptation of his apology, is it? She looks at him a moment longer as he tries to come up with something to say to smooth this over. He has nothing for it, and she goes back to reading.
Castle stands in the doorway another moment debating leaving her alone. It would be easy to go pour himself a drink and take his own refuge. He can't though, he just can't. It kills him to have her genuinely, quietly mad at him. Even if she says she's not.
It started with her teasing him - relentlessly teasing him - about how picky he is about the care of his things. It was harmless and not entirely sweet spirited. He smiled and laughed with it as Kate and Alexis swapped stories over dinner regarding his coaster fanaticism. (He feels that if either of them had ever had to pay have a rare, early 20th-century art deco credenza refinished, then maybe they would care a little more about water rings.) Once they were alone it escalated from there. She continued to slyly pick at him regarding all manner of household ills, and he ceased being able to take it with good nature.
They fought. Of course it was never about coasters or not leaving shoes in the middle of the living room floor. It was about Castle being a childish ass all day at the precinct (he is guilty as charged) and Kate's surprisingly passive-aggressive way of dealing with things.
And it was about Castle's great displeasure, and yes, anger, over Kate's refusal even to discuss moving into the loft.
He's a smart man. Yelling at your girlfriend because you want her to move in with you? This is not the way a smart man reacts.
Castle walks over to the edge of the bed and sits by her feet, reaches a hand out and spans it around her ankle in hopes of gentle armistice. Kate takes in a shaky breath and releases it without looking up at him.
"I'm sorry too," she says, so low he can barely hear. She looks up and he's surprised to see the shine of tears hiding in her eyes. "We're no good at this, Castle." It sounds like defeat for more than just this fight, and that scares him.
He jiggles her ankle and sneaks a finger under the edge of her sock. "We're better than you think we are." Kate smiles the tiniest of smiles at him, nearly infinitesimal, but there.
"Can we not do this right now?" her voice is steady and low, her eyes like crescent moons refracting the light.
There is a point with Beckett when pushing her is warranted, necessary even. Castle studies the slope of her back, the vaguely needy look in her eyes, and is proud to know that this is not that moment.
"Sure." He kisses the top of her knee and shuts the door behind him when he leaves.
When she finally comes out to find him, he's sitting on the sofa in the living room reading the publisher's proof of Karin Slaughter's most recent book, and scribbling in the margins to refer to later when he has to write his blurb. He can feel her eyes on him, but he doesn't acknowledge her, lets her take her time approaching him.
Kate perches on the edge of the glass-topped coffee table and picks up his wineglass for a sip, the scent of her eucalyptus shampoo filling the air. Her hair is wet and twisted over her shoulder, her T-shirt darkening where it's soaked through the fabric.
Castle takes her in, observes how her scrubbed-clean skin absorbs the light like fine porcelain and how her eyes and brow by contrast are so dark they look drawn there in ink. He loves getting to be privy to this Kate; the Kate that's all shadows and light, hard angles and wet hair.
"I'm scared," she says. Of course it's Beckett, so it's with prosaic confidence she says it, no hint of weakness, like stating her date of birth or badge number. She continues, "I'm scared that if we change things too much that it will stop working. That if we live together it will be too much and throw us off balance. I don't want to resent your presence or get sick of you."
"Sick of me? Never. I'm delightf-" She stifles him with a look that says think again hotshot. "Okay. Right." He leans forward and snags his wineglass from her fingers, her seriousness bleeding into him. "It is a lot of togetherness time, working and living together. But how is that different than it is now? You do already spend all your time here, Kate. It's been three months since you spent the night there. It's not that big a step."
She shakes her head at him, eyes wide with incredulity. "It is that big a step, Castle. How can you think it's not? Do you - okay, think of it this way, you've been married twice -"
"Whoa," he sits up slightly straighter at the mention of ex wives, and swings the foot resting on the leather down to the floor. "I don't know where this is headed, but I'm pretty sure I'm not going to like it."
"No, no. Just hear me out. You've been married twice. And you had a kid in the house for eighteen years. And your mother here for God knows how many. The last time I lived with someone was in college. Do you realize that I have never lived with a man? Never."
Never?
"Closest I ever came was with Will. And that wasn't all that close," she murmurs.
"Seriously? Never?" It thrills him in a horrible, Neanderthal-like way that he gets to be the first. The only. He hooks the back of his ankle around her's and tugs, unable to hold back his smile. Her foot skitters across the rug, then swings gently along with his. "You are a really good roommate, you know."
She smiles at that, a little proud of herself.
"All right, so it's new territory for you. What I don't understand, Kate, is that you're already here. You want to be here. It's silly to waste your money on an apartment you only use as storage."
"I know. It's just - it's a safety net. It is silly. And it is a waste of money. But it makes me feel safe," she says, her hand press flat against her chest. "Right now it keeps me from feeling too much like - " Kate trails off, her words getting smaller, but the meaning she doesn't share growing large in her eyes.
"Too much like what, Kate?"
She stands and walks over to the kitchen counter to pick up the nearly empty wine bottle, walks back and pours the rest of it in the glass he still holds, then sets the bottle on the table. He watches her pull the stem from his grasp, their fingers brushing, and take a long drink. Kate takes a deep breath and says it, "Too much like this is the last place I will ever live."
Forever.
He swallows hard and tries to keep the excitement pounding in his heart off his face. "Nah, we could always find another place if you don't like the loft. Maybe someplace closer to the precinct, or -"
She sighs at him and lets her hair off her shoulder to fall damply down her back. "I'm being serious."
"I know." And he does, his attempt at levity a failure. "You're - " it's his turn to sigh - "you're not wrong, Kate. I've been thinking about this from the wrong angle," he mutters, scrubbing a hand along his chin. "More like a small step, making things official really. But you're right."
This isn't how he thought this would go down, not the initial talk anyway, but there you have it. Things happen for a reason. He says, "This is huge. This is forever. And asking you to move in with me when you already live here is ridiculous."
"Kind of."
"We should get married."
Kate laughs, bright and throaty, full of joy and enough breathlessness to make her chest heave. Kate laughs and Castle does not.
"Wha-" her hand flies up to her mouth, laughter subsiding, her face falling. "You're - are you being serious right now?"
"Yes, I'm being serious."
"Castle." She shakes her head, her eyes flashing a warning at him he should probably heed. It may be pushing too far, but they both need to address the elephant that's been sleeping in their bed. It's time.
"Come on, Kate. Like you haven't thought about it?" Her eyes flutter from his in what looks like guilt and she gulps at the sediment of the wine.
"Okay, so you've thought about it. Hey," he says, scoots forward on the sofa to get at her, pulls the empty glass out of her hands and tugs her down on the couch so that they're eye level, their knees touching. "This isn't me proposing, okay? You don't have to get weird. I'm just saying that it's something that I want. Someday. And I hope it's something you want too."
Kate blinks at him.
"Say something so I know you're hearing me," he laughs and it feels good, like a knot of dread bubbling up out of his chest.
"I've thought about it before," she says slowly. "In a positive way."
"All right." He grins at her, can't help but. "So before we make you moving in here official, we should discuss marriage."
"Castle!" Her mouth is agape, as if shocked by his free wielding of the M word. It's the same expression he expects she'd have if he told her he just robbed Fort Knox.
"What? I'm being serious here, Beckett. Close your mouth." He can't help but smirk at the incredulity on her face.
"You had to have known I've thought about it, Kate. At least once you've caught me looking at rings on my computer."
"No, no I haven't." She's still breathless and slack-jawed, and it's adorable. He so rarely catches her off guard, and he is enjoying every moment of it. And the knowledge that Beckett's thought about the prospect of marrying him in a positive way; he's enjoying that too.
"You have. Tuesday as a matter of fact. I've been keeping a check on - " whoops. He doesn't want to give too much away - "Anyway, Tuesday. You surprised me and I nearly dropped my laptop. Remember?"
"That's what you were doing?" There's a crease in her brow that exhibits her frustration with herself, so unhappy she missed something.
"Yeah. Wait - what did you think I was doing?"
"I figured you were looking at porn."
"Kate!" It is his turn to be incredulous.
"What?" She is holding back the edges of a smile. She can't keep it out of her eyes though, can never keep it from there.
Castle pulls her quickly toward him, so that her shoulder jams into his chest and they both let out a breathy oomph. Her hair is cold against his chin. "You know I only ever use Ryan's computer to look at porn."
"Oh, that's right. My mistake. Something more embarrassing then. Like that website you keep tabs on about Kraken sightings." He can hear the smile he cannot see. Kate slides down just enough to rest her back against him and draw her feet up on the sofa.
They stay reclined together for a while. And he swears he can hear every cog clicking along in her brain, all the terror at the prospect, all the questions he knows she wants to ask, and, hopefully, all the happiness vibrating just beneath the disbelief.
"When?" she finally asks.
"Hmm," how much to tell her? "Soonish."
She pushes up enough to lean forward and get a look at his face. "How soon is 'Soonish'?"
Her brow is knitted so cutely he can't help but lean forward and kiss it. Kate scowls at him lovingly. "Not so soon you have to freak out about it. Not so terribly far off that you maybe should start working on not being terrified when you hear the M word."
"I can do that," she says slowly. "Well, I can start working on it, anyway. I'll work on it, Castle."
Kate smiles at him, a trembling, fearful thing just for him. It fills him up. She may as well have said yes. Because she's going to work on it. For him. He's soooo going to marry Kate Beckett.
"It's not going to be too big, is it?" she asks.
"The proposal or the wedding?"
"Ugh," Kate buries her head in his shoulder with a grunt, but answers him. "The former."
"Ah, well, that's for you to find out. Wait and see." Castle brushes the wild spray of hair off her cheek. "And you get to completely dictate the latter."
"Yeah?" She's breathless. Kate, in his arms, imagining their wedding. Egad, it makes him want to tell her everything he's been imagining, everything that's already in motion. The jeweler on 6th Avenue he's had scouring estate sales, auctions, and boutique firms for the exact ring he thinks is right for her. One with a rich history, remarkable and one of a kind, but not so flashy she'll feel odd about wearing it everyday. An asscher cut diamond, he would like. Something from the turn of the 19th century. But the story is the most important part. He wants to give her a beautiful history to go with their brilliant future.
"Yes, Kate. Anything - everything you want."
"Hmm." She hums contentment into his neck and it tickles, her breath painting his skin as she fiddles with the edge of his T-shirt. He so wishes he could see what she's imagining in her mind's eye. He twists and unwinds his fingers from the still-damp rope of her hair.
"What do you think about honeymooning in Norway?" he asks.
"We are not going on a mythical sea-beast hunt on our honeymoon." Kate narrows her eyes and pushes her index finger hard against his chest.
"Yes, dear."
Her glare sharpens at that and her finger grinds harder into his sternum. He tightens his arm around her shoulder and she relents, her hand flexing then resting lightly on his chest, fingers absently stroking nonsense patterns.
"I'll work on other things too, Castle. Not just the - ya know - M word thing." Kate pulls her arm out from behind his waist and inches away so she can look him more squarely in the eye and picks up the thread of the dropped conversation.
He shakes his head, not understanding.
"I'll work on not getting mad at you for one thing when it's really something else I'm mad about. Be more fair."
Ah, that's nice. He likes that. That's a good thing to work on. He could probably work on that too. "Yeah, me too. I can do better at that too."
"And I'll do better about not leaving my shoes out." She appraises him sheepishly, like she's unsure she should concede any more, however she goes on. "I've - um, tripped on them too."
"I knew that's where that bruise on your shin came from! You hit the coffee table too, didn't you?"
Kate rolls her eyes at him. "Okay, calm down, killer. I said I'd try."
"That's all I'm saying."
"And..." she draws out expectantly.
"Oh! And.. I'll stop being an ass at work when you tell me to stop being an ass." He means it. He needs to do better about treating Kate more like Detective Beckett when they're at the precinct, about stopping when she tells him to stop.
"Thank you." She says it like she's exasperated, but her eyes betray her. They are twin beacons shinning at him so full of happiness. And love. She looks so very in love.
He catches a surprised gasp from her lips when he cants forward and kisses her, breathless and quick.
Kate grins up at him through dark, heavy lashes. "What was that for?"
"Hmm, can't a guy kiss his roommate?"
"Not officially roomy yet, but - yeah." She waggles her eyebrows at him, leering, just like he does to her, and that stupidly pleases him. "Anything else you want to share?"
"I can think of a few things."
Kate smiles inscrutably and dips down to plant a row of kisses along the underside of his jaw. When he opens his eyes she's going, moving away from him and vanishing down the dark hall toward their bedroom.
Castle switches off the end table light and leaves the wineglass to wash tomorrow.
He doesn't make a sound when he impales the edge of his foot on the razor-sharp heel of her boot lying near the end of the dresser. Instead he keeps his mouth shut and takes his almost fiancé to bed.
