He leaves early this time, rising with the sun and organizing a platter of fruit for Alexis to have with her breakfast. He let her know about his plans for the weekend trip the morning after he confirmed them with Kate, still infinitely relieved by his daughter's nod of acceptance, the smile she gave along with the offer to help him pack a bag.

He isn't sure what was said during the phone call between her and Kate, but whatever it was seems to have cured Alexis of most, if not all, of her doubts.

It'll be a couple of hours before she wakes, but Alexis is leaving not long after he does, her slim suitcase and a tote bag already propped by the front door. A small group of her friends are in the Hamptons for the weekend and Castle encouraged her to join them, more comfortable with the idea of his daughter surrounded by people she knows - all of whom Ryan has done background checks on in the past - than leaving her alone in the loft for two days. She may have given her approval, but that doesn't mean he wants Alexis to feel as if his desire to be with Kate is stronger than his commitment to be home with her.

He would also feel pretty guilty, leaving his daughter to sit at home while he's tucked away in the forest with Kate.

He drops a post-it note on her luggage, telling her to have fun and that he loves her, before he slips out the front door.

Castle loads his duffel into the backseat and speeds out of the parking garage just as morning light begins filtering onto the streets of the city, stopping by his favorite coffee shop before he drives out of Manhattan.

It's the first time he's been to the establishment in over two months, the first time he gets to place an order for a vanilla latte again.


Kate is heaving through her second mile, her chest uncomfortably tight and her breathing irreparably out of sync. She keeps jogging until she finishes the lap, emerging from the trail with sweat dripping along her brow, down her cheeks and clinging to her jawline. She wipes at the stream of moisture before it can cascade any further down her neck, but it's no use. She's drenched and just wants to stand - or maybe sit - in the shower until the water washes her clean.

But a shower may have to wait.

Castle is already perched on the porch swing.

He tries to conceal the concern on his face with a smile, but it skitters across his features, lingers in his gaze; she must look terrible.

Kate attempts to regulate her breathing once more as she slows to a walk, in through the nose, out through the mouth, until she reaches him.

"Hey," she manages without panting, grateful when he bounds down the steps to meet her. "You're here early."

"I actually wanted to spend more than twenty-four hours with you this time," he shrugs, but now he looks anxious for an entirely different reason.

Kate rolls her eyes and braces her hands at his ribs. His brow arches as she leans in to brush a kiss to his mouth, but his hands fall to drape at her waist, draw her in closer.

"Castle," she mumbles, meaning to protest the proximity, but her body fails to resist it. "I'm all sweaty."

"You look hot." She huffs, but he squeezes her hips. "Both literally and figuratively."

"You looked terrified," she counters, nuzzling his cheek a little, dusting her lips along his stubble. He smells good, like coffee and aftershave that she's never been close enough to truly appreciate until now.

"I didn't know you were well enough to run," he murmurs, his fingers toying with the hem of her workout top.

"Frank has been increasing my endurance exercises. Been jogging for a while now, helps build my stamina." Though, most of that stamina, the high of running, is fading, leaving room for the pain that lives between her breasts and ribcage to rush back in. Castle's hands sneaking beneath her shirt, skimming along the slick skin of her back, isn't exactly helping. But she doesn't want him to stop.

"That's encouraging."

"Yeah, he says I'll be cleared for all forms of active duty soon," she murmurs, unable to conceal her smirk as his eyes flash.

"A-all?"

Kate slides her hands up his sides, curling her fingers in his button down and holding to the fabric as she tilts her chin to take his mouth. He hums into her kiss, growls when she nips at his upper lip before she sucks it into her mouth. She's never heard that sound before, never felt the vibration of it traveling through her.

She wants to hear it again.

Castle's hands explore her spine, fingers splaying over every bump of her vertebrae until they encounter the drenched material of her sports bra. Her spine arcs towards him and she gasps as their hips meet.

"I think it's working," he grins, but his hands are descending down her sides, gentling her. His thumbs caress the edge of the bra, so dangerously close to the undersides of her breasts, before following the rest of his fingers down the cage of her ribs to return to her hips. "Breathe, Beckett."

"I am." But the breath she sucks in through her nose is hasty; she didn't even realize she was holding it.

"Sorry," he chuckles, so confident and teasing now, turning her attempt at reassurance around on her. "Probably not the smartest thing to do after you've been working out."

"Worth it," she murmurs, kissing his chin before she flattens her palms to his chest. His heart is beating hard beneath her touch, just shy of matching the gallop of hers. "I'm glad you're here."

"You're about to be even more glad," he grins, letting her go and turning back towards the porch. "I brought breakfast."

Her lips quirk as he climbs the steps with a bounce in his, gesturing to the swing that holds bags of food she didn't notice earlier.

"And you'll have to warm it up, but-" Kate watches him stretch across the swing, rummaging around the bags, while she takes a deep breath to climb the stairs. It rushes from her lungs prematurely when he stands again, presenting a to go cup of coffee like a reward. "Grande skim latte, two pumps of sugar-free vanilla."

Her lips spread and her heart squeezes and she forces her legs to climb the stairs even as her inner thighs begin to tremble. Castle pretends not to notice, but he steadies her with the cup of his palm to her elbow once she reaches him. She accepts the cup, the brush of his fingers as it transfers from his hand to hers in a familiar form of greeting that she's missed.

Rick reaches for the food, cradling the bags in the crook of his arm as he turns for the front door.

"Come on, most of the food is still warm and I bet it's been forever since you've had a good latte. I want to see the look on your face when you take the first sip-"

"Castle," she murmurs, snagging his sleeve before he can stride inside. He pauses to glance back at her, lifting an eyebrow. "Thank you."

His entire face softens, his haste to get inside gone. He looks content to remain in this moment with her instead. She wishes she had her phone in her hand, wishes she could capture the expression he wears now. Cerulean eyes and that dopey smile that has him looking more in love with her than she deserves.

"Worth it," he echoes, catching her fingers when she releases his sleeve and tangling them with his. "Been bringing you a cup of coffee every day for the past three years just to see that smile, Beckett."


This visit is different from the last, less uncertain and tentative, less weight of things unsaid between them. It's easier, effortless in a way that already existed between them as partners. But now that they both know where they stand, Kate is visibly feeling more confident and so is he.

She insists on rinsing off from her run before joining him for breakfast, promising to be quick. He arranges everything on the table while he waits, heats her coffee in the microwave, has it all ready for her by the time she returns with fresh clothes and wet hair. She sits at the head of the table this time, a diagonal position from him, but doesn't hesitate to stretch her legs beneath the table to reach him.

He's careful with her, never allowing himself to forget the fragile state of her body, but he catches one of her ankles, circles his thumb at the bone before tugging. She hides her grin around the rim of her coffee cup but lifts her legs, lets him settle her feet in his lap.

"You have blisters," he murmurs, skimming his thumb along one of her toes, her heel.

"Castle," she huffs, digging the other heel into his thigh.

"Do they hurt?" he prods, tapping one of the white bubbles of skin.

She squirms, curls her toes and hides the blisters from his fingers. Flustered, cute. "Stop. You shouldn't even be touching my feet while you're handling food."

"I just won't use this hand," he shrugs, covering the tops of her feet with his palm, holding the other up in surrender.

Kate rolls her eyes, but leans back in her chair with her coffee to her chest.

She picks at her eggs, his cronut, but mostly fills up with fruit from the parfait he brought her and sips at her coffee with varying hums of approval. But once the latte is gone, he notices her starting to drift, slouching in her chair, wincing when it must take an uncomfortable toll on one of her healing spots.

"Kate, go lie down," he prompts, squeezing the feet still in his lap.

Her toes flex as she sighs, slipping her legs from his chair. There's frustration in the pinched corners of her eyes that he means to ask about, but she's already using the table to rise, shuffling towards the living room.

Castle stands, stores any leftovers in the fridge, and follows her to the couch. She's already falling asleep, starts to fade when he slips in between her body and the arm of the sofa, coaxes her to curl against him. Her head to his shoulder, knees at his thigh, her lips brushing his bicep through his shirt.

"M'sorry, Castle," she sighs, her cheek heavy against his bone. "I swear I have more exciting plans for the day than this."

Castle eases his arm around her, lets her find rest against his chest instead. "What are you talking about? This is riveting."

"The runs just make me so tired, I hate it," she grumbles, her words slurring. And maybe with anyone else, he wouldn't have been thrilled to come all this way for a woman to simply fall asleep on him after a brief breakfast. But for Kate Beckett, he'd make the drive every day just to watch her nap, especially if it meant being her pillow.

"Body's still healing. Just rest, Kate," he murmurs, lowering his chin to brush his lips to her crown. But she's already gone, breathing evenly against him.

Castle sinks a little deeper into the couch, gets comfortable. He's probably going to be here for a while.