Back with another chapter.

In the last couple of chapters that I posted, I've been referencing parts of 'Blizzard'. It fits, since this story is a direct continuation of that one. So if any of you haven't read that one, I'd advise you to read it, and then I think this story and some of the references will make more sense.

Thanks VERY much to those who commented on the last chapter! And I'm glad that some of you can relate to that 'foot-in-mouth' moment. gmay, you sort of guessed part of what I was going to do with this chapter. Docvap, so happy you enjoyed it and thought it worked. YouSpeakToMySoul, thanks, and I'm glad you 'got' how he took the reins and took care of her after her slip-up. Mark C, glad you liked the chapter, and your summary was great.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.

It seemed to be a weekend for bedtime relationship ruminations, because after they got home from the carriage ride and eventually retired to bed, Kate simply laid awake going over what had happened earlier on the carriage ride. The whole thing, despite Castle being endearingly hokey, was really going pretty well. She found that she was enjoying the excursion. And then...then she had to go and ruin it by saying those words that she did, those words that implied that she was looking for an out, when absolutely the only thing she had really meant by the remark was simply to give him a hard time, all in fun, like they always did. But it had backfired so spectacularly. It was too bad that it wasn't until the words were already out of her mouth that she realized how they sounded.

And then...leave it to Castle to rescue her. She knew he could be hurt by her careless words...she'd already done that when he'd incorrectly assumed that his reputation was the reason that she didn't want anyone at the precinct to know about their relationship right away. She'd gotten out of it then on her own (and by whipping a plum at him), but this time, he was the unlikely person who had come to her rescue. And for once, she was glad, she was so glad that he didn't listen to her, didn't pick up on the cue that she really didn't mean to give him in the first place. She'd told the Captain once that the man was incapable of taking anything seriously. Well, she knew from the look in his eyes that he took her comment seriously. Too seriously; more seriously that even he had intended. But then something-she didn't know what, but she thanked her lucky stars for it-made him give her that half-joking response to her statement. And sometime, if she ever got brave enough to talk about things like that honestly and openly with him, she would thank him for it. For not letting one careless comment let the doubts in to ruin what they had started to build between them.

But then, after that...then she found out how wrong, how totally off the mark she really was. And she was left reeling.

She thought about how when they got back, she just couldn't talk about it right then. But she took some of his words to heart...actions speak louder, or better, than words sometimes. And in her case, at least right now, more eloquently. So even though it was late when they got back to the loft, she shyly asked him if he had any good wine. And then she asked if he wouldn't mind turning on the fireplace, citing that even though the carriage ride was warm enough, it would still be nice to have a fire after being out in the cold winter night. He looked at her oddly for a moment when he heard her request, but then a smile bloomed on his face as he started getting everything ready. She was about to sit on the couch but then she walked over to the closet where, after living in his loft for a week, she now knew he kept some extra blankets. After grabbing a couple, she put a thick, fluffy one on the back of the couch for them to sit on, and then sat down on top of it. She quickly unwrapped her foot from the boot and tucked her legs up on the couch side of her, being careful not to torque the foot too much in any strange direction.

When she saw Rick walk back into the room with the wine and a couple of glasses, she patted the blanket covered couch next to her. All in silence, he poured the wine and handed her a glass before settling down himself, and then she handed her glass back to him and she spread out the other blanket over the top of the two of them. Then she took her own glass back and took a sip, giving him a hum of appreciation before relaxing against him.

She tipped her head down to rest on his chest as he lifted a hand and began to run his fingers through the long brown strands of her hair. Neither one seemed in any hurry to do anything else, even thought they'd barely spoken. But finally, as he continued combing her hair with his fingers, she raised her head up to him and said, "I did have a good time tonight, so thank you." Normally, she would have expected a joke from him, something about it not being that hard to let go and have a good time, or about him having good ideas. But she still didn't feel like things were totally normal between them, not after her comment. They were close, sure, but they were still treading lightly with each other.

"Not too cold? I mean, with all of this..." he gestured to the blankets and the fire. "I mean, I know you said-"

"No, Castle. Not too cold. Finishing out the evening this way just seemed...appropriate, somehow." Sitting here, together, fire, wine...romance. She knew he'd talked about it regarding the carriage ride, before she'd said what she'd said. Romance. And this was certainly romantic, them sitting here like this. And she hoped that by suggesting it, she was just reinforcing the fact that she wasn't serious about what she'd said about 'calling it quits.'

But then an errant thought popped into her head, and it made her sit up. "But, I'm sorry...did you want to go to bed? I shouldn't have assumed..." she trailed off, obviously all of a sudden thinking that she'd inconvenienced him from beginning his nightly slumber.

But her words conjured one image in his mind, and although it was a brief, fleeting image, it was still there for just long enough for him to be aware of it. The image of Kate, in his bed, for reasons other than sleeping. And the self control that he'd drilled into himself in relation to her all of these years took over and forced that image out of his brain as quickly as it had gotten in there. Sure, he'd warned her about what would happen when they finally crossed that line, but until then, it was just something that was better not thought of. Not until he was sure that he wasn't going to scare her off by getting too serious.

And Kate, in her own mind, was, for the second time that night, regretting her words as soon as they'd left her mouth. 'Go to bed', she'd said. And oh, with the level of innuendo and banter in which they typically engaged, that comment could have so much mileage. And she waited for his quick wit, but was surprised when he gave her only the most G-rated comment: "No, I'm not sleepy yet. And you're right; this is a nice way to end the evening after the carriage ride."

"Good." Good? Was that all she could say? How lame was that. Could she no longer have a conversation with the man? Or at least one that didn't involve her putting her foot in her mouth in one way or another?

They sat in silence for several more minutes, and both just sipped their wine while Rick absently continued to play with Kate's hair, sometimes combing his fingers through it, sometimes doing something that felt to her like he was twirling it around his fingers.

Finally, once she relaxed a bit more, she remembered a question that she'd been wondering when she'd been alone. In light of her recent foot-in-mouth syndrome, she rehearsed what she wanted to say in her mind, and finding nothing potentially traumatic or innuendo-inducing about her words, asked him, "So, I've been thinking...you said a week ago-a week ago tonight, as a matter of fact-that you wanted to take me on a real date, once I got a little more mobility back. Well, since I've been walking on and off with the boot for several days now, and since you've turned into a tour guide organizing a whirlwind of activities lately, I'm wondering which one was the 'official' date. Was it the Broadway Show? Was it the carriage ride? The movie marathon with twenty thousand different kinds of take out? Or was it that elaborate dinner that you cooked on Friday night? I would have suggested the massage as one of the possibilities, but that was with Alexis, and I'm sure you didn't mean for our big official date to be me with your daughter."

"No," he finally said. "To you dating my daughter," he said, and then grimaced. "Ew, that sounds..."

"Creepy?"

"Yeah. No, that was just a...girl's...thing. A thing that girls do. You know. She's a girl, and you are too."

"Glad you noticed," she said dryly.

"Oh, believe me, I noticed," he said in a deep voice, and then leaned down to quickly press a hot kiss against her neck. "I spend a lot of time noticing, actually," he confessed.

"I just bet you do," she told him, but didn't make any move to swat him away on principle like she normally would have; his lips against her neck felt too good.

But he raised up all too soon, confessing, "But, well...the date. I guess really, uh, none of them were the date." He took a sip of his wine.

"None of them?"

He shook his head. "No."

She turned toward him. "Castle, we've done all of these very date-like things. How can none of them possibly be the infamous first date?"

"It just can't, okay? Our first date...it has to be special. It has to be well planned out, and memorable."

"The play...that's a very hot ticket right now. I know they're hard to find. How can seeing a popular play-and a good one, at that-not be memorable?"

"It was a matinee," he told her haughtily, as if that explained everything.

"So...?" she prompted.

"So we hardly dressed up. And then we-"

"-came back to the loft for a wonderful dinner. Sounds like a date to me." She shrugged and took a sip of her wine.

"No." She was suprised at how adamant he sounded about it. "It wasn't the date."

"But it was a date. And since we haven't had a date yet, then it must have been our first date. Logic, Castle."

"No. That was not our date." If she thought he sounded adamant before, he sounded even moreso now. Calmly, precisely adamant. "And I don't care about your logic. I'm planning this out in my head...our perfect date. I have plans, Beckett. So do not get all logical on me and ruin my plans."

She had been leaning against him, but now she raised up and turned around to look at him. "Um...Rick, honey? Are you feeling okay?" She placed a hand on his forehead as if to check for fever. "Because you're getting a little bit weird about this."

"But I have these plans, and you're trying to be all logical. And your logic is ruining my plans!"

"So you've told me before," she muttered, thinking that the statement sounded like deja vu. "Okay, suppose you tell me about these plans."

"I can't."

"You can't? Why not?""

"Because then they won't be a surprise. And then I won't be able to dazzle you if it's not a suprise." He said the last sentence as if it was a big 'duh' statement; as if she should have known without even having to ask.

"Rick, I don't need to be dazzled."

He picked up her hand, the one that wasn't holding the wine glass, and brought it to his lips for a kiss. "Yes, Kate, you do need to be dazzled," he told her earnestly, in a low voice.

His lips had left a little tingle on her fingers, and the serious tone in which he said the words made her pause. "I..." The little tingle had traveled from her fingers to her belly. She took a sip of her wine for something to do, because all of a sudden, she didn't have words.

But he did, as he continued, in that same low, smooth voice, "Kate, we're going to get dressed up; me in a dashingly debonair suit, and you in a knockout of a dress. Maybe something red, or...blue. Yes...midnight blue, like the night sky as it glows with the lights from the city. You're going to put some of your hair up, but not all of it. You'd look so amazing. And we're going to go out to a nice restaurant. Maybe not the most flashy restaurant, but something with ambiance and excellent food. A limo is going to pick us up, and we're going to drive around for a little while, sip some champagne, and maybe...maybe I can steal a few kisses?" he suggested as he bent his head and did just that as they sat on the couch. Leaning back, he pulled her down with him as he continued. "When we've decided that we've had enough of the limo, we'll go to the restaurant. There will be several very angry women there by the end of the night, because you'll be so beautiful that every man in the place will be turning around, trying to get glimpses of you. You'll be so stunning that all of those men will just forget about their dates in favor of looking at you."

She rolled her eyes, but he shook his head at her briefly. "No, Kate. Don't underestimate the power you have. It's not just your inherent outward beauty, but it's your inner beauty that shines through too. It's a quality that you can't put into words. Believe me, I've tried." He paused, and she thought that even though he'd said the contrary, he was doing a mighty fine job with his words. She was almost entranced by his smooth voice again, the low timbre, the earnest tone. It would have been embarrassing if she didn't realize that he honestly believed everything he was saying. She could see the naked emotion in his eyes. And even though she was lost in watching him, part of her still realized the fact that he didn't seem to have taken her words to heart earlier. He didn't want out of their relationship. She was relieved by that, and to be honest, seeing all of that naked emotion scared her a little bit, because the intense look in his eyes made her wonder about the fluttery feelings in her own belly.

"I..." she began again, but then needed to take a breath before she could continue. Was her voice really that unsteady? "I thought you said you couldn't tell me about the date."

He narrowed his eyes and his face was transformed with a teasing grin. "Consider it a sneak peek. Just enough to whet your appetite, and to convince you that whatever we've done in the past few days...I may have enjoyed it immensely, but make no mistake: none of it was any semblance of what I'm planning for our real first date."

"It..." she started again. God, where was her voice and what was it doing all of a sudden? "It sounds way too fancy for a first date, Rick. It sounds like..."

Oh, Lord, she almost said it that it sounded like he was trying to set the stage to propose to her or something! But thank goodness that, for once, she was actually able to stop the thought before she said it. But she still needed to finish her thought, because he was looking at her with that intensity again. "It just doesn't sound like a first date, that's all."

He looked up in the air thoughtfully, waiting several seconds before he spoke. "I suppose you're right. But you said it yourself a week ago...any time that we go out and do anything, it could potentially be a date. Because we've been together so long and know each other well enough by now. So maybe it's more accurate to put that other word in there, to say 'first real date'. Because when we're old and gray, I want to be able to look back and know that I did it right. So no, none of what we've done lately counts. Consider it...oh, I don't know...spending time together. But not our first real date."

Here she was, sitting in front of the fire and drinking wine with him, trying to show him that she was content in their new relationship and that her big verbal gaffe from the carriage ride was just her putting her foot in her mouth; not that she was hinting around about breaking up already. She'd been so worried that he would think that, but obviously she'd been very wrong. Because of five words that he'd just spoken.

'When we're old and gray.'

Once again, she couldn't say anything. 'When we're old and gray.' All of the other words that he'd said somehow fell away until only those five remained in her mind. Well, that certainly didn't mince words, did it? 'We' and 'old and gray' in the same sentence...it only meant one thing.

Not slow. Not slow at all. 'Old and gray', and 'we' meant fast, and permanent relationships, and a thousand ways for her to screw it up before then. And it was just...fast...and...just, not slow. Not slow at all.

And she felt that punch in her gut again, but this time she knew the punch was panic.

She didn't realize it, but her eyes had grown wide at his words, once she realized what he'd said. And feeling the panic, she knew that she needed to be alone, before she said or did something else that was stupid. She needed to get calm, she needed to get her bearings.

And she couldn't do that with a pair of earnest-looking blue eyes gazing at her intently.

She mustered every ounce of control she could to polish off her glass of wine-she figured she needed it, after that, anyway-and then somewhat calmly (at least she hoped), she put the glass down on the table and rose off the couch. She made the mistake of glancing down into what were now very surprised blue eyes. But she steeled herself against the mesmerizing power of those eyes and announced, "I...uh, I think I'll turn in now." She leaned down and gave him a quick kiss on his lips, and then after she raised up, she couldn't resist touching his cheek as she said, "Thanks, Rick. The evening was...great. Really nice."

And then she, very slowly, turned and walked toward the stairs. About halfway there, she registered the twinge in her ankle; she wasn't used to walking full on it without the boot. But her need to flee-and flee in a manner that seemed outwardly calm, anyway-made her ignore the twinge and continue on, albeit slowly. And she continued on, to the upstairs bedroom that was now hers, trying with every fiber of her being to not look down toward the man she'd left sitting on the couch in the living room.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

She was there, and then she wasn't.

They'd been having the best conversation, where she'd drawn out of him what he'd wanted for their first date. Of course, he couldn't tell her everything, but he'd used his storytelling capabilities and he knew he had her. But then...then she just got up and left. And he sat there, stunned, as she very gingerly walked up the stairs, away from him.

And he sat there for another ten minutes, thinking about the evening, wondering about things. After what she'd said during the carriage ride, about them calling it quits, he felt like he was walking on eggshells. He thought his response to that comment was good, if not somewhat quickly thought-out. But she seemed okay with it, and then she asked to sit by the fire. She'd asked for wine.

And then she'd asked casually about the date. Was she opposed to the date? No, that couldn't be it. He thought back over their conversation, right before he'd seen her eyes get big and she'd left. He'd been talking about the date, and he'd explained to her why he didn't consider the excursions that they'd already done to be their 'date'. Something had made her leave. Something he said had made her leave; he knew it. He had a good recall for conversations, so he began to replay their conversation in his head. And then he froze when he replayed his own words in his head.

'When we're old and gray.'

Oh, crap.

He meant it. He meant every word of it. But right after that, she'd gotten big eyes and she'd fled. And he knew that's what it had to be.

Damn, Castle, he thought...so much for slow. He knew the woman was skittish about making a mistake, about going too fast, and then he has to throw long-term inferences in there.

He was usually better, more on-the-ball than that. He had to wonder, originally, if her comment about them breaking up wasn't some sort of a Freudian slip. Did she want him to call it quits for them? He'd taken a chance, back at the park in the carriage, that she didn't really mean what she'd said. And he knew now that she didn't. But that still didn't mean that she was ready for long-term references.

He was committed to this, to making it work with her. Already, he knew that she meant more to him in the short time they'd been 'officially' dating than any woman had in a long time. Maybe ever. Except for Alexis, of course, and she didn't count because she was his daughter. But as he glanced at the empty stairs, the stairs that he'd watched her creep up just a little while ago, he knew that he had to be careful, so he didn't blow it. He couldn't blow it; it meant too much. Too much was at stake.

So, sitting there, he made the resolution to follow her lead, to take his cues from her. And hopefully, he'd take them better than he had tonight. He didn't want to scare her off, and he'd just been given another lesson, just like the one earlier last week with the inadvertent 'I love you' comment, in how to NOT freak her out. Eventually, he wouldn't have to worry so much about that, but for now, he knew he did. So now, he had his notes, he had his rules for how to handle the likes of Kate Beckett: don't mention long-term, don't mention the distant future, and certainly don't mention...love.

Ha ha! Just had to throw the sneak peek reference in there right after they release the sneak peeks for episode 4:11! (Actually, I did't really plan it that way, but the wording popped into my brain, and then it just kind of...fit.)

I have to admit that I tried to turn some of you gooier people into a bit of mush with Castle's description of their first 'real' date. So I hope I succeeded, at least a little bit. If not, don't tell me; just let my ignorance be bliss. ;)

I hope I didn't turn anyone off with a bit of mild angst. Hey, the road is never smooth, is it? We all have these moments of sailing along blissfully, but then you hit a bump, and you start to question things. And then you get it sorted out, but then the other person hits a bump. And goes on and on until you both smooth out the bumps in the road. But then when you get there, it's really great. So I hope you hang on with me for the ride. I promise...it'll be good. And if not, you can shoot my virtual writer self or put me in fanfic writer's jail and charge me with excessive angstiness (is that a word?).

So...thoughts?