a/n: Couldn't leave you guys with the sad chapter all weekend. I'll respond to reviews individually as soon as I can but I want to say thanks very much now - I love hearing your thoughts.
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February 3rd 2014, 7.01am
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"So, will you?
"Will I what?"
She's distracted, flipping pancakes on the stove, bacon frying in the background, the eggs already cooked. Alexis is asleep upstairs, back from school this weekend and Kate's going all out.
Sunday brunch.
Like her mother used to do for her, she's doing for his daughter.
And it makes something inside him flicker. So, this time, when he says it, it's without question. "Marry me."
The spatula clatters to the countertop, pancakes forgotten and then she's whirling around to look at him, shock and panic waring for dominance across her face. "Marry you?"
Okay, so it's not the reaction he was hoping for. Not even close. It's not his most eloquent proposal, no. There are no balloons or great big grand gestures and maybe he's done it all wrong but still, he figured he'd get something a little more promising, even without all the flair.
"Are you insane?"
"No." He's not. Just because it seems out of the blue doesn't mean that it is. Not at all. He's thought about the prospect. A lot. More than he should admit to if he wants to maintain any shred of his dignity at this point.
He just hadn't worked out the kinks of the actual asking. But he's thought about it. Thought about it with her since they've been together. Since before that. Since 'third times the charm' and watching his chance bleeding out in the grass and, maybe, he started to think about it as far back as 'wanting something magic'.
Make it last, though, that's his plan for this time around. And 'make it last' doesn't include blurting out The Question half naked in his kitchen with flour in his hair and a dollop of batter on his chin.
It definitely doesn't involve her reacting so poorly she starts to over cook the bacon. He reaches around her to flip off one of the burners.
"Castle?"
"Forget it, Kate."
"Were you serious?"
He pulls back to look at her face.
"Wouldn't this be a terrible story to tell the kids?" she asks and something flutters in his chest – tell the kids? – like she's thought about it too.
"It's original," he counters.
"Is it because you're afraid I make better pancakes?"
There's a teasing note in her voice, but something else too, something more. Something like uncertainty. Something that sounds like hope.
And so he takes a chance.
"It's because I want to marry you."
He leaps, headfirst. "It's because I want to spend every morning with you, every day, every night. It's because I like the man you make me want to be. But mainly, it's because I love you, Kate, and I just can't choke down the urge to ask any longer."
"That's-" she swallows. "That's some pretty good reasons."
"Yeah."
"Yes."
And he feels like a moron, a world class fool, standing in front of her, waiting for the verdict to a question she doesn't believe is real.
But then she's sliding her arms around his shoulders. The look on her face is familiar, teasing, light, like she's waiting for him to catch up and that's not right because – oh. Yes.
Yes.
As in –
"Yes?"
The smile blooms across her face, big and bright and shining in her eyes.
"Yes, Castle. I will."
And then he's grinning too. Goofy and too-wide and he can't help himself, can't fight the urge to kiss her – decides not to.
She tastes bitter and sweet all at once, like coffee and mint and promises and yes. She tastes like their future, warm and glorious and smiling against his lips.
He feels her fingers trace at his ears, slide into his hair and he pulls her flush against him, has to fight the urge to spin her around. Twirl her like they're in one of those cheesy movies. He has the sudden urge to grab her hand and drag her down to the nearest courthouse, never mind that it's Sunday. Never mind that they're both in their night clothes still. Never mind that his daughter is due downstairs any moment-
He smells the smoke before the alarm goes off, the forgotten pancakes screaming for attention. He pulls away, fanning the air as she flicks off the burner, dumps their ruined breakfast into the sink.
"Look out-" and he's not sure if he runs into her or she bumps into him but there's pancake mix between them and he ends up wearing the majority of it.
Kate stares blankly at him, shocked, and then she's laughing, light and glorious and he laughs with her. Uplifted and a little crazy and so damn happy he can't help himself.
Ah, damn it all. He twirls her anyway.
They stick together as he sets her down, flour and sugar and eggs like glue between them and maybe he doesn't mind so much.
"We are not telling your daughter about this," she says, wiping a flick of pancake batter off his cheek.
"No?" He's not concerned – not overly – because she's still laughing with him, her eyes tender, her fingers lingering against his jaw.
"No," she returns. "Can't let her know you made me waste pancakes."
Rick makes a face at Kate's teasing smirk.
"And the guys," he says, thinking suddenly of his advice to Ryan all those years before.
"Oh yes," Kate says. "You'd never live this one down."
"We'll tell them there was skywriting," he decides.
Kate rolls her eyes but she sneaks up on her toes to steal a kiss. "No skywriting."
"Ninjas?"
"No."
"The CIA?"
Her face wrinkles. "Not a chance."
"Kittens?"
"No- wait, what?"
"My reputation is at stake here, Kate."
"We'll tell them you wrote me a sonnet."
Rick's face wrinkles. "Not a chance."
Kate grins. "You are a writer. It fits."
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"But I read it to you while we were skydiving."
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