A/N: Wow. So. Good news is, I did finish the chapter on time :-) so, yay! It took a few detours to get where I wanted it to - Lanie invited herself along, then Martha did, too, and I couldn't really say no to either of them - but we're there, finally. Longest chapter ever. I guess you've noticed. I'd break it up, but since most of you said you didn't mind the length... Before I forget, the title is from the song "Slow Down", by New Moscow.

Ah, I'm getting all emotional now. Better let you read, I guess. I'll just say this: the response to this story has been wonderful, really, and I'll never be able to thank you guys enough. And if you're wondering, I might end up writing a sequel, just because I don't feel like abandoning those characters I've created. It will depend on my time and inspiration, so I make no promises; but it's a possibility. Special thanks, once again, to pat19btvs, who is to be credited for the idea of that last scene; to Whatarushh, for beta-ing this story, and to my friend Lucie. She knows why.

Disclaimer: Castle, I'm sure you've guessed, isn't mine.

"Talk."

It was so unexpected, so terse a declaration that Kate almost burst out laughing to his face. "Talk"? How long had he known her? Did he really believe that ordering her to open up was the way to go with her?

She stared at him, giving him her most intimidating look, and waited for him to lose countenance and back down.

He didn't. Instead his light blue eyes bore into hers, firm and yet gentle, but unwavering. God damn him; Kate found herself allured by this new persistence of his. And not just in an abstract way, either. The flare of warmth in her belly was unsettling, made her lift her chin in defiance.

"And what am I supposed to talk about, Castle?"

When his face darkened in response, she wondered if she had put a little too much fierceness in her voice. She hadn't exactly meant to. The writer took a step towards her, and she unwittingly stepped back, although her body buzzed in disapproval at her reaction.

"You're supposed to talk about whatever it is that kept you silent for most of the drive," he growled. "You're supposed to tell me what's causing that preoccupied expression, and more lip-biting than I've seen in a while."

He gave her a hard, guarded look, but she could see the dejection shining at the back of his eyes, and Kate's heart sunk. Only Richard Castle could make her go in a matter of seconds from angry at his assumptions to aroused by his caring to upset by his hurt.

She would have spoken then, but he didn't let her.

"You're just supposed to talk to me, Kate," he said in a quieter, sadder voice. "Or would you rather have us keep guessing and misunderstand each other? I thought we had been through enough of that to know better."

Oh, jeez. It brought last summer back to mind all over again, though Beckett suspected it he hadn't done that on purpose. Of course she didn't want him to go back to Gina or some bimbo, of course she wanted him to know what he meant to her, but… She anchored her gaze to a small daisy that, against all hopes, had thrived on the side of the road, and tried to find words.

"You don't want to do this anymore, do you?" Rick whispered.

The sad resignation in his voice made it impossible to stare at the daisy any longer, and Kate looked up at him, speechless with shock and indignation. How could he think…?

He stared back at her, somewhere between scared and hopeful, and Beckett wanted to slap him, or kiss him, maybe. She closed her eyes, cleared her throat, found her voice again.

"You really need to stop assuming things, you know? Castle… I do. I want to do this, I just… I don't know how. I don't know how you can trust me when I've spent all this time trying to fall in love with another man; laughing and building theory with you, and then going home to Josh at night. I just – you hurt me, when you left with Gina. I would have gone to the Hamptons with you."

Castle looked taken aback, shattered, but that wasn't Kate's goal, and she tried to ignore it, to stay focused as she went on, "But I think – I think I've been hurting you for a while, too, by refusing to see what was there. I mean…" Her smile was bitter, and she shook her head in frustration, "Obviously, I don't know what I want, Rick. And maybe you just…" She swallowed, hoping it would somehow make it easier to say the words.

"Maybe you just deserve better," she finished unwillingly, staring at her feet.

"I'm sorry?"

The look on his face was at the border between shock and hilarity. Oh, she would not say it twice. He must have been aware of it on some level, because he went on, "This is crazy. Are you, Kate Beckett, actually telling me that I, Rick Castle, known playboy and man-child…"

"Oh, come on. We both know the playboy thing is no longer true," she opposed with surprising strength. "You said it yourself, how many dates have you been on these past few months? None. And you were with Gina before that."

He gaped at her for a good twenty seconds.

"You cannot be serious," he slowly stated after that.

"If I hadn't hurt you, then why would you be so eager to believe that I don't want to do this anymore?" She challenged.

"Because you're way out of my league?" Rick shot back immediately, sounding like he was stating the obvious.

Kate stared at him for a moment, her lips parted in disbelief.

"Oh."

That was ridiculous, but before she had time to voice that thought, he was speaking again.

"I – don't get me wrong, I'm not saying it was nice seeing you with Josh," (he shuddered theatrically at the thought, and she shook her head with a hint of a smile), "I'm not saying it didn't hurt… But I understand your reasons, Kate. I understand them a lot better than you think."

He was looking at her, into her, and she found that she couldn't look away. After a moment, though, he smirked, breaking the spell.

"Better than you," he huffed, referring to her previous statement. "Like that's even possible. Okay, okay," he quickly amended, seeing the look she was giving him, "maybe it's possible – though I've never met in my thirty-nine years of life someone who fits that description," he muttered under his breath, "but even if it is… It doesn't matter. I don't want anyone else."

He made it sound like it was preposterous to believe otherwise. Kate was pretty sure her cheeks were a flaming red, if the warmth she felt was any indication. He knew about her mom's case, knew about the long hours at the precinct, knew how stubborn she could get. And he still wanted her.

"But the Hamptons thing," Rick said in a more subdued voice, "God, Beckett, I –"

"Don't," she interrupted, shaking her head and trying to get the smile on her face to subside. "It's… We're good. At least, I'm good if you are."

Castle watched her for a moment, blue eyes thoughtful and assessing, before he nodded softly. "I never could say no to a beautiful woman," he said with a lopsided grin.

"Rick," she warned. As much as she enjoyed his light-hearted approach to things, this was for real.

"I'm good, Kate," he answered a little more seriously. Then the spark in his eyes was back in an instant as he took a step towards her, adding, "In fact, I'll show you just how good I am."

Out of habit more than anything else, Beckett rolled her eyes and stepped back.

"Is that really necessary? Let's just get back in the car. We still have a long way to go, Castle."

"Why, Detective Beckett, am I boring you?" he asked with a wolfish smile, advancing on her.

"At the risk of ruining all your carefully crafted fantasies," she quipped, "You actually are."

Retreating some more, Kate stumbled across a picnic table, and she swiftly circled it, putting a barrier between herself and her writer. He only looked amused.

"You do know what happens when you play with fire, don't you, Beckett?"

The husky note in his voice did things to her body, but she hid it with a smirk.

"Yes, my mother actually did warn me about that. But I don't see any flame around here, Rick."

Oh, she was so going to pay for that. Her partner reached the table, his grin larger by the second, and started walking around it. For every step he took, the detective took one in the other direction – and some part of her (a rather big part, if she was honest) responded eagerly to being chased.

Caste picked up speed, tried to fool her by pretending to stop and change his course. Kate saw through it all, of course (subtlety was definitely not his thing); but while she was busy looking at him she was not really looking where she was going, and her jeans caught in a split of the wooden bench, making her lose her balance.

She would have managed to hold on to the table, had Castle not jumped at the opportunity to finally catch her; he collided with her when she turned unexpectedly, trying to jerk her pants free. Together they fell; and the most exquisitely feminine scream of the two didn't come from Kate.

Her shoulder took most of the fall, and the detective rolled on her back with a groan (it was hard to tell if it was due to the pain or to her partner landing on top of her, and effectively winding her).

"Get off me, Castle," she gasped, and he obeyed immediately, too stunned to make a joke. "Men," Kate sighed lightly, carefully trying to work her arm. "You tell them you love them and the next second they're all over you."

Wrist and elbow were perfectly functional; the shoulder hurt a bit, but it wasn't dislocated or anything. Good.

"You okay, Castle?" She asked, turning to look at him.

He was watching her, looking as dumb as she had ever seen him (she also noticed that his hair was mussed, and a button of a shirt was missing. Not that it turned her on or anything).

"Castle?" Beckett asked again, wondering what the hell was wrong.

"You love me," he stated softly, his eyes wide with shock.

Oh, that. Right.

Well, she couldn't exactly take it back now, could she? She tried to decide whether she was touched or insulted that he looked so disbelieving. Maybe a little of both.

She wasn't scared, she realized belatedly. Wow. Not even the tiniest bit of fear. That was something worth telling Lanie about. Kate got up and quickly checked the state of her clothes; a smile stretched her lips when she saw that Castle was still frozen in the same position.

"Get over it, Rick," she teased mercilessly. "It didn't exactly come as a surprise. Or do you think I'd tell the first idiot that he deserves better than me? I'm awesome, Castle," she said with a hint of haughtiness.

The author grinned – no argument there.

"What does that make me, then? I wonder," he mused with pretend thoughtfulness.

"Oh, no. Don't count on me to inflate that already well-sized ego of yours."

"I'm afraid you might have done that already," he said, fake apology written all over his face.

"Jeez, I'll never find sleep again." Kate shook her head in shame.

"Well, if you need help with that…"

Oh, she had kind of set herself up for this one, hadn't she? She met the writer's laughing blue eyes and couldn't help a smile.

"Why, do you know a good cure for insomnia?" The detective asked innocently.

Castle jumped to his feet and beamed at her. "I just might."

There was such a contrast between the childlike enthusiasm on his face and the innuendo contained in his words that Beckett actually laughed.

"Okay, Casanova. Are we allowed to get back to the car now?"

"No."

"No?" She lifted an eyebrow; and, just because Beckett had always been one to test the limits she was given, she took a few steps towards the SUV. Sure enough, a hand on her wrist stopped her, and Castle spun her back into his arms. She didn't exactly put up a fight.

"I'm going to kiss you first," he whispered, his eyes roaming over her hungrily.

"Oh, you're giving me warning now? How very –"

She didn't get a chance to finish that sentence; his lips were on hers, hard and hot, demanding, and suddenly it was much more important to give as good as she got, to meet his tongue with hers and let her hands tangle in his hair, than to bother with banter.

Rick was of another mind, it seemed, because when he released her he asked – or rather, breathed the question against her neck – "What were you gonna say? How very…?"

"– civil of you," she let out breathlessly, and they both laughed quietly, because "civil" was not the most appropriate description for the kiss they had just shared.

Castle's mouth found that incredibly sensitive spot, where her ear met her neck, and Kate gasped in surprise and pleasure. There was something she wanted to say, but it was hard to remember when he was so intent on distracting her. Ah, yes. Beckett put her hands on both sides of the writer's face, and she gently pushed him back to meet his eyes.

He didn't look too happy with the interruption.

"You can tell Alexis and Martha," she whispered, and a beautiful smile lit up his face at once when he realized what that meant. Rick leaned in to brush his lips against hers, and she let him for a few seconds, before she said, "But you let me handle the precinct, okay?"

"Okay," he growled, rubbing his cheek against hers.

"And no one else needs to know for now."

"Okay," he repeated, sounding like he just wanted her to stop talking.

"Is this how things are gonna go from now on?" Kate asked, laughter bubbling in her voice. "You're just going to agree with everything I say? Jeez, Castle, if I had known, I would have gotten together with you a long time ago."

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she used his distraction to slid out of his embrace. The writer pouted, and she fought the urge to kiss it better. Instead, Beckett extended her hand, and said, "Give me the keys."

"What?"

"The car keys. Give them to me."

"But I'm driving," he whined.

"Not anymore," she asserted with a twinkle in her eye. "And certainly not if you make us stop every twenty miles."

"Are you saying it was a bad idea?" Castle asked gravely, going from his childish self to his adult one so fast that it made her head spin.

"No, Rick," she answered softly, with all the sincerity she could muster. "I think it may have been your best idea ever, in fact."

He looked relieved, pleased, and proud. The combination rather became him.

"But I'm driving now," Kate said, snapping out of it. "So give me the keys."

Castle groused a little, but he complied (it wasn't like he had ever really been able to refuse her anything). They settled back in the car, and when the writer's hand ventured to rest on Beckett's knee, she smacked it.

"You can look, but you can't touch. No distracting me while I'm driving, Castle."

Her partner looked at her like he had just been told there would be no Christmas this year.

"But we still have over a hundred miles to go," he objected.

"And the less distracting you are, the faster we'll get there," she shot back, hiding a smile.

Sulking, he sunk into his seat and stared through the window. Big baby, Kate thought. But even in her mind, it sounded much more affectionate than annoyed.

Despite Castle's fears, time actually went by pretty fast.

They had almost reached the Lincoln Tunnel when it started raining. What was, at first, only a light drizzle quickly turned into a downpour, making it difficult to see even the car ahead of them. Kate had slowed down considerably – she was not a fan of driving in the rain – and when they heard a rumble of thunder in a distance, followed by a flash of lightning, she muttered between her teeth, "Welcome back to the city."

Rick chuckled, but didn't look up from the text he was about to send Alexis.

Beckett returned her eyes to the road, and was glad she did; the truck in front of her came to an abrupt halt, and she braked – hard enough for their car to stop in time and avoid an untimely collision.

Her heart was racing when she finally dared to release her hold on the brake, and she could feel Castle's eyes resting on her.

"Sorry," she said quickly, vaguely annoyed that she sounded out of breath. "Didn't see that one coming."

His hand reached for hers, and despite her earlier threats, she didn't try to take it back. He squeezed gently, and she finally turned her eyes to him. Considering the traffic jam they were in, it was no longer a risk.

Rick smiled reassuringly at her, and said, "It's okay. We're all good."

Kate moistened her lips nervously. "I know. I just…"

"Don't," the writer warned gently. "You braked in time. We're safe. And even if you hadn't, we were going slow."

She nodded, letting his words permeate her conscience, ease her breathing. Castle still had her hand in both of his, and he started stroking it slowly, massaging her joints, following her long fingers with his, dropping a series of kisses inside her palm.

It was utterly relaxing. Kate let her head fall back against the headrest, closing her eyes. If she had been a cat, she thought, this would have been an appropriate moment to start purring.

"Don't tell me," she whispered. "Alexis wanted to take massaging classes when she was younger, and you went along."

He laughed. "Close enough. But it was my mother, actually, and I was a teenager with nothing better to do. I've always enjoyed learning new things."

Beckett smiled; she had no trouble believing that. It was one of the things she found the most endearing about him.

"On a more practical note," he added good-humouredly, "Traffic is moving again."

Oh. Kate's eyes snapped open and her hands went back to the wheel. She shot Castle a nervous glance, expecting him to tease her for getting so distracted; but he was looking ahead, a pleased, peaceful look on his face, and a responsive smile found its way to her lips.

As much as she enjoyed their usual back-and-forth, Beckett was grateful for the silent agreement they seemed to have reached. She pushed gently on the accelerator, and took the first occasion she got to pass the goddamn truck that blocked her view of the road.

It was a little after six when they pulled over in front of Kate's building. Rick waited for her to turn off the ignition, his heart beating a little too fast considering this situation was, altogether, nothing new.

Nothing new. Right. Who was he kidding? Everything was new. Everything was uncharted territory. Never before had they parked in front of her building to drop his – girlfriend. He had to find a better word, but this one would do for now.

He was being the girl, wasn't he?

The writer turned to find Kate watching him with a light smile. Well, at least one of them was enjoying this.

"Wanna walk me up to my apartment?" She asked, and the tone she used – not quite inviting, not quite teasing either; just that of an honest question – told him that she, too, was trying to adapt to the freshness of it all.

"Sure," he answered quickly, and he bounced out of the car to open the trunk and grab her bag before she could get a chance to.

Beckett arched an eyebrow at him.

"Really, Rick?"

She was still calling him Rick. He loved that. When they'd been in Whitesboro, it had been part of their whole "let's not attract more attention to our already strange relationship" policy, and though she'd showed surprising ease with that, the writer wasn't sure if she would keep doing it when they got back. Oh, he sure enjoyed the way she called him Castle, but he kind of hoped that the two weren't mutually exclusive.

"Really, Kate," he said, unable to keep his grin in check.

She looked at him, chewing on her lower lip, assessing and adorable at the same time. Rick tried his best not to twitch and fumble with the strap of the bag. In the end, a corner of her mouth went up, as she seemed to reach a decision. There was a sparkle in her green eyes, and he couldn't quite decide what it was; amusement, maybe, or pleasure?

"Okay," she said, spinning on her heels and heading to the secured door of her building.

"Okay?" he echoed disbelievingly, once he had caught up with her.

"Don't think it's an all-time pass, Castle. This is just me choosing my battles. And you carrying my bag? Not worth fighting over."

She held the door for him, and he thanked her absentmindedly, rather pleased with the new information. She thought some things weren't worth fighting over. That was good to know. He'd need to make a list, of course.

The elevator got there quickly enough, and opened to reveal a very good-looking man – tanned, muscular, with blonde hair that seemed to have been ruffled by the wind (although Castle would have been curious to know where exactly the "wind" had come from). The surfer look, Rick thought disdainfully, with absolutely no jealousy at all.

"Hi, Kate," Mr. Surfer said as he walked out, flashing them both with a white-toothed grin.

Great. Toothpaste had just been added to the list of things the guy could advertise for, along with surfboards and aftershave. And tanning cream, the writer thought wickedly.

"Hello, Ben," Beckett answered amicably enough before she got into the elevator.

Castle followed her, gloating. Ben. Ha. He had nothing to fear. The doors closed, and Kate shot him a look that said, Don't think I'm not on to you.

"What?" Rick asked innocently.

"Oh, I don't know. Where should I start? The fact you were staring at the guy so intently that I was afraid your eyeballs were going to fall off? Or the fact that you were so busy admiring his muscles that you couldn't even be polite and say hi?"

"Hey, he said, "Hi, Kate." My name not being Kate, unless it's been changed and I'm not aware – though I have no doubt my mother would be able to pull something like that on me – I believe Ben's greeting wasn't addressed to me."

"Please. He smiled at both of us."

"And how do you know about his muscles, unless you were looking yourself, uh? That's not very nice, Detective Beckett, to be checking out other men when your…"

"Yes?" She turned to him, her eyes pools of serene green.

"When your, boyfriend, is around," he finished, cursing himself for hesitating.

Kate smiled like she was amused at a private joke, one he would have loved for her to share with him.

"A) I was not checking him out. He was shirtless, and the muscles thing is not something you can miss. And B), as adorable as your jealousy is, I'm surprised at how blind you're being, Rick. Ben quite obviously plays for the other team."

She had lost him at "adorable", and it took a few seconds for the writer to catch on what she had said next.

"What? No way. My gay-dar is fabulous. There's no way I'd have missed this guy."

"Seems like you did. Or maybe I mistook the person Ben was heartily kissing in the hallway a week ago for a guy. But seeing as that person was over 6 feet, had pretty amazing abs and a whole set of very…masculine…traits, I think not."

"Okay, okay," Rick agreed hurriedly. "No need to say more. I'd rather have him gay than hitting on you, anyway."

Kate paused in the middle of unlocking her door and gave the writer a hard look.

"And what if he was hitting on me?"

Uh-oh. That light in her eyes meant trouble. Was he ever going to learn that thinking before talking was a question of survival?

"I… It's…"

His eloquence having seemingly deserted him, Beckett filled in the blanks.

"I'm more than able to say 'no' to a guy, Castle. And if he's being too insistent, I'm able to take him down, too."

He really was an idiot.

"Yes," he agreed quickly, trying not to make his case worse.

"So unless you think I'm some starry-eyed, naïve creature who falls for the first guy who wants her, I don't think we have a problem here."

"No, we don't."

Beckett studied him, her brow furrowed, until she seemed satisfied with what she saw. She nodded, relaxed a tad bit, and finished opening her door.

"I'll handle it from here," she said in a gentler voice, reaching for her bag.

Castle loosened his grip on it unwillingly, desperately racking his brains for a way to make it up to her.

"Do you have food at your place?" He asked eagerly. "You could always come and have dinner at the loft if you don't."

Oh, no. Now he was making it sound like she was unable to buy groceries and cook for herself. He opened his mouth to say something – anything – that would indicate his true meaning, but Kate rested her fingertips against his mouth, and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

Relief washed over him; she wasn't mad. Then her hand moved to cup his cheek, and relief was no longer at the forefront of his emotions. Her lips brushed against his, once, twice, and she stepped back. Tenderness made her eyes look greener.

"I'm good, Castle. But thanks."

"Anything you need," he whispered, steady and fervent. And they both knew he meant it.

Surprising herself, the detective dropped her bag to the floor and threw her arms around Rick's neck, pressing the length of her body against his, inhaling the scent that was him. She wasn't sure what drove her – a mixture of gratitude, love, and need – but she buried her face in the crook of his neck, pressing a kiss to his clavicle, anxious from him to understand how much it meant.

He understood. The author rested his chin on the side of her head, nuzzled gently against the soft and dark waves of her hair. "I love you," he murmured, his voice tight with emotion. He felt her mouth curve into a smile against him.

"Sure you don't want to have dinner with me at the loft?" he asked again, thinking it was worth a shot.

"I'm sure. We could use some time apart, Rick. You may enjoy the big pile of mush we've just turned into, because you're such a girl; but I'm worth better than that."

"I'm the girl, uh?"

He lifted a quizzical eyebrow, glanced down at the part of his anatomy that indicated otherwise, then looked at her again. Beckett shook her head in amusement.

"Fine. Emotionally, you're the girl. Does that feel more accurate to you?"

"Mmh. I feel like I should argue, but it sounds like too much effort right now."

Kate laughed, and he relished the sound of it. Her trying to step away, however, he did not take so well (meaning, he tightened his hold on her like a little kid throwing a tantrum).

"Rick."

"Yeah?"

"Let go of me."

He didn't answer.

"If you don't, I'm going to hurt you."

She felt him waver, but still he didn't release her.

"You may not care about getting hurt, but think about me, Castle. Can you picture how traumatizing it would be to have our embrace ending in me physically hurting you? Not the right start for a relationship, I think. Not to mention the years of therapy I'd have to go through."

She felt, before she heard, the deep rumble of his laugh, and his arms finally loosened around her. The writer was trying to hide his grin, but he wasn't making a very good job of it.

"You win," he said.

"Tell me something I don't know."

There was a sparkle in his blue eye as Rick fought the urge to tease her back, and Kate decided that she was going to help.

"Go," she ordered, not unkindly, with a jerk of her head to the elevator.

He didn't seem very intent on moving.

"Go, Castle," she repeated, putting some authority in her voice. "You have some writing to do, if I'm not mistaken. And I…"

"You…?" he trailed, looking very interested.

"I have my own stuff to do, that I don't necessarily want to share with you."

He resorted to the puppy dog eyes, and Beckett rolled her eyes. She was never going to get rid of him.

"I need to call Lanie," she admitted reluctantly. "And she's going to kill me for not doing it sooner."

"Oh. Well, in that case… Have a nice death," Castle said brightly, finally moving in the elevator's direction. "And don't say mean things about me!" he added as an afterthought.

Kate watched the doors close, and wondered at the sinking feeling in her stomach. It had to do with the fact she hadn't eaten anything since lunch, surely. Yep, because it made no sense at all for her to feel lonely when she hadn't had a minute to herself today. She was just hungry.

Right.

Richard ran into his mother on his way to the loft. Martha was looking rather bewitching, clad in a surprisingly sober, long black dress, her hair carefully done, and a delicate-looking shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

"Hello, mother," Castle said, taking in her appearance after he had dropped a kiss on her cheek. "Going somewhere, aren't we?" He asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

"Oh, no need to make it sound so dirty, Richard," the diva said, lightly smacking his shoulder. "I'm going to a charity event that, apparently, every theatre big shot in New York is going to be at. The advisor I hired for the school suggested that some of my connections weren't quite young enough, or, how did he put it? Not "in the loop". Can you believe that?"

"So? Fire the advisor," the writer shrugged.

"Oh, honey," Martha said, looking at him with a mixture of amusement and pity. "No wonder your relations with Black Pawn are so full of drama. You can't just fire someone because he's told you something true, even if you don't want to hear it."

"Can't you?" Her son asked innocently. "I guess I finally found out why Gina's still my editor, then."

"Richard," the red-haired woman chuckled, shaking her head. She checked the time, her graceful movement being, no doubt, intended to make him notice that she was wearing the watch he had given her for Christmas, and exclaimed, "Well, I must be off! Being fifteen minutes late should do just fine."

Before Martha had seen it coming, she was swept into a bear hug, despite her protests about the hours of efforts that had gone into that look.

"Really, kiddo," she sighed, before giving up and patting Rick's back a little.

It had been quite a while since her son had been so openly affectionate with someone other than Alexis.

"I take it the trip with Beckett went well, uh?" she teased, a knowing smile on her lips.

The arms around her tightened, and the actress felt a pang of relief and untainted happiness. She had started to lose hope on those two.

"If you're trying to break my ribs," she said dryly, "I think you're going just the right way about it."

Rick finally let go of her, and Martha patted his cheek, unable to keep her emotion from showing somehow.

"I'm happy for you. And just because I have to go doesn't mean that I won't want to hear every detail of that story later, mmh?"

"Sure, sure," the author waved her off, the silly grin on his face refusing to subside. "Go, dazzle all those people and show them that it's not about age. I'll wait up. Or not," he added with a laugh when he saw his mother's face. Apparently, she had already made other plans.

"You're a darling. Oh, and Richard?" She said as an afterthought. "Don't bother looking for that bottle of Château Yquem 1998. I found it."

"I'm guessing that means the bottle is now empty?" Her son inquired perfunctorily.

Martha flashed him a bright smile, and waved as she disappeared into the elevator.

"If it's any consolation, it was a tribute to your good taste!" She exclaimed before the doors closed.

The writer was more amused than upset. The bottle was one he had bought with Gina, during their honeymoon in France, and he didn't exactly need reminders of the way that particular story had ended. He had only been looking for it because Patterson had said something about being able to identify vintage wines when blindfolded, and Castle would have enjoyed proving him wrong.

Closing the door of the loft behind him, he went to his room and abandoned the small suitcase in a corner, planning on undoing it later. Now what? He thought. The large space felt a bit lonely when you had no one to share it with, and Rick couldn't get Kate out of his head – the way she laughed, the way she looked with her hair up, with her hair down; the way her body had felt this morning, warm and pliant in his arms.

He let himself fall back on his bed, his eyes closed, his mind full of Detective Kate Beckett. What he needed… Oh, he was being ridiculous. What he needed was a cold shower, and to call Alexis. There. What he needed was to stop picturing Beckett waiting for him in the shower, her head cocked to the side, her eyes large and – yeah, that still needed a little work.

The first thing Kate did, once she had dropped her bag beside her bed, was to strip out of her clothes and take a long, hot shower. It was what she hated most about long drives; no matter how clean you were at the beginning, no matter what clothes you wore, you always ended up feeling sticky and smelly (and Castle would have liked the alliteration).

When she finally stepped out of the bathroom, she threw on sweatpants and a v-neck shirt, and tied her hair back. When she was tired, having strands of hair falling over her face drove her crazy.

Beckett inspected the contents of her fridge, throwing away an entire floor of the Styrofoam temple, and took out a few tomatoes. She considered ordering in – but pasta sounded good enough to her complaining stomach, and she filled a pot with salted water, turning on the gas.

Then, grabbing her phone and curling into her couch, she scrolled over her contact lists and found the person she was looking for.

"Hey, girlfriend," the familiar voice of Lanie Parish answered after a couple rings. "Haven't heard from you in a while. How did that trip upstate go?"

The first part of the sentence was not intended as criticism. Lanie and Kate had never been those friends who text each other constantly, gushing over a dress or that guy they've just walked past in the street that looked exactly like Jude Law. They saw each other at work, more often than not; and they arranged for a girls' night at least once a month. That provided them with plenty of time to talk about whatever was new in their lives. They were always there if the other needed them, but they were also self-sufficient, independent women, and their relationship suited both of them the way it was.

"It went okay, actually," Kate answered. "Apart from a few lovely interventions from Emily…"

"The bitch," Lanie remembered in a threatening voice.

"Yeah, that one. Apart from her, it wasn't too awful."

Thanks in no small part to Castle.

"What aren't you telling me?" the ME asked just as Beckett wondered whether to tell her more over the phone. Damn, Lanie was good. Sometimes Kate wondered if she hadn't missed her calling; she would have made a damn fine detective, in her friend's opinion. Not that Doctor Parish wasn't great as a medical examiner, though.

"I… Are you free tonight? Do you want to come over for drinks? I really don't feel like going out."

"Sure," Lanie answered slowly, sounding surprised. It was rare for Kate to set up last minute plans. "Javier's gonna watch the game anyway, and it's not like he needs help with that. I won't stay late though, plenty of bodies at the morgue waiting for autopsies these days. I'll try to make it home by midnight."

Kate was curious to know if 'home' meant Lanie's apartment or rather Esposito's, but she decided to save that particular question for later.

"No worries. I'm pretty tired myself. Come by when you can, okay?"

"I'm walking out of the precinct right now. Give me time to go home, shower and change, and I'm all yours. I'll be an hour, tops."

"Great. See you then," Kate said, and she hung up with a smile. She couldn't wait to see Lanie's face when she told her about Castle. Rick.

Mmh. Maybe she'd need to train in front of the bathroom mirror and make sure she didn't have a silly grin on her face every time she said his name. One couldn't be too careful.

Castle hung up the phone with his daughter, feeling rather pleased with himself. He had not caved – no matter how many comments and inquiries Alexis had made on how cheerful he sounded, he hadn't told her the true reason why he couldn't stop beaming more than ten seconds.

Oh, it wasn't that he didn't want her to know. He did. He felt so confident about his daughter's reaction that he couldn't wait to see the smile on her face. And that was exactly why he had remained vague; she was coming home tomorrow night, and he could wait until then. He just needed to see her face when he told her that he and Kate had finally, finally taken that leap.

It didn't feel real; he wished, not for the first time, that Kate had taken him up on his dinner invitation. Of course, he could understand why she'd need some space, after spending two whole days in his company – but he needed her close, needed to be able to check that it was true, that it was happening.

Find something to do, the more rational part of his mind asserted, sounding slightly bored with the nine-year-old part of him. Find something to do. Right.

Dinner! He could make dinner. Now that he thought about it, his stomach had been rumbling during his phone call (loud enough for Alexis to hear and laugh at him, in fact). Dinner would keep him busy. Some very, very elaborate dish. His special vegetable lasagna, maybe? Slicing up the vegetables would definitely take some time; but it was a bit risky in his current, distracted frame of mind.

Would Kate like his vegetable lasagna?

No. Cooking. That's what he needed to focus on right now. Vegetable lasagna would do; Alexis was very fond of it, and since the recipe was intended for six to eight people, there would be leftovers tomorrow when she got home.

Where the lasagna had failed, the thought of his baby girl did not; and Rick opened the fridge with a smile, picturing his daughter seating next to him and enthusiastically assenting to his suggestion. God, he couldn't wait to see her.

"So you broke up with Josh and didn't tell me," Lanie said, looking at her friend over the rim of her wine glass. "You sneaky little thing."

Kate smiled somewhat sheepishly, taking a sip of her own drink.

"And there's more," the medical examiner surmised, narrowing her eyes at Beckett. "Girl, you better not make me beg."

The detective took her time, savoring the fruity taste of the red wine while mentally choosing her words.

"Okay," she finally let out. "So, you remember I was planning to leave Monday afternoon, have the Captain reassign the boys and send Castle home to write?"

"Yeah… And isn't that what you did?"

"Well, I tried. Castle wouldn't go home."

"Big surprise there," Lanie snickered.

"And he... actually offered to come along."

"Come along? As in, join you for the five-hour drive and the family reunion with people you hate and haven't seen in the last ten years?"

"No, come along as in, come back with me to my apartment and help me pack. Duh."

Kate rolled her eyes, vaguely annoyed at the disbelief written all over her friend's face.

"Wait. Wait. You telling me this would only make sense if you had answered something else than a big fat 'no'. Did you answer something else than a big fat 'no'?"

Don't blush don't blush don't blush, Beckett thought, but the tingle of warmth in her cheeks told her that it was a lost fight.

"Katherine Beckett," Lanie threatened. "Dish. Now."

"Okay, so maybe I took him up on his offer," Kate said quickly, like she was ripping a Band-Aid.

"You did not," the dark-skinned woman gasped. "You actually allowed Richard Castle to sit on a car with you for five hours straight – ten, if you include the drive back – and introduced him to your family? Oh my god," she said excitedly, "This cannot possibly get any better. Unless the two of you shared a room."

The large green eyes flickered downwards before they came back to meet Lanie's determinedly, and that told the medical examiner everything she needed to know.

"You shared a room? Girlfriend, you had better not be raising my hopes up for no reason. If nothing happened, I swear, I'm gonna make you hurt."

Kate smiled slyly. "There should be no need for such violence."

The ME's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her face – it was a rather entertaining sight.

"You…" Lanie shook her head. "Are you really going to make me pry the information out of you? At the rate it's going, I might have a heart attack before we get anywhere. More wine, maybe?" she offered after a pause, with a devious grin.

Beckett laughed. "How can I resist such a well-meaning offer?" She asked sarcastically, holding out her glass for her friend to pour.

Then she settled back into the couch, well aware that the medical examiner was still staring at her expectantly. She took one more sip, one more breath, before she started again.

"So. He actually suggested that we take his car, arguing it was more comfortable and everything; but he did let me drive. And he didn't even ask where exactly we were going, Lanie. Didn't know the name of the town or anything. He just…trusted me."

A knowing smile played on Lanie's face. It was no surprise to her that Richard Castle fully trusted Kate Beckett, but it made for a nice change that Kate herself was conscious, and accepting, of that fact. The small, curvy woman nestled in the armchair that she had gotten used to claim as her own, whenever she came over to Kate's, and rested her chin on her knees, getting ready for the rest of the story.

It was a story that she, admittedly, had great hopes for.

Rick put his wine glass down on the coffee table (it wasn't as pricy a wine as the one his mother had downed, but it would do for tonight), then settled comfortably in the couch before he reached for his laptop. He checked his emails quickly – he had a message from Meredith saying that she was coming to New York for an audition that he quickly dismissed; she sent about four of these a month, but somehow she always failed to show up. He wasn't complaining. When Alexis was younger, after Meredith had disappointed her twice with false news of her coming, he had made a deal with his ex-wife that she would always let him know him first, and leave him to share the information with their daughter.

He liked it much better this way; but he'd never completely forget his little girl's tears, and he'd never completely forgive Meredith, either.

Dismissing her from his thoughts, he decided to focus on the much more appealing topic of Detective Kate Beckett.

You have to write, she had told him.

He opened a new Word document, stared at the white page for a minute. The case Nikki was working on was almost closed, but Castle felt like it lacked one more twist; something that would surprise the hell of his readers, when their guard was down. He remembered Kate standing in the cemetery, tall and slender in her black dress, surrounded by the family she hadn't seen in so long.

Maybe Nikki was going to get a surprise visit from a long-forgotten cousin, he mused. Maybe that cousin would take a little too much interest in Rook, and of course Nikki wouldn't want to admit that she's jealous, because that would be admitting that Rook means more to her than she's ready for. Oh, yeah. And the cousin turns out to be linked to the case – but Heat doesn't have solid evidence tying her to it, and she's perfectly aware that if she accuses the woman without a very good reason, everyone will think she's losing it. Well, maybe not Rook, but it's a risk Nikki isn't ready to take.

Before he knew it, Rick was furiously typing away, the real-life Kate having for a moment retreated at the back of his mind, leaving the lead to her fictional alter-ego.

"And you know the worst? My grandmother all but fell in love with him."

Kate was half-lying on the couch, a foot still resting on the hardwood floor, the other propped up on a cushion. She had set her glass down; the bottle was empty, and though Lanie had brought another one, Beckett thought she had done enough drinking for the night. She felt good: warm, relaxed, slightly tipsy. She wanted to stay that way.

"Your grandmother, the Ice Queen?" her friend asked, surprised.

"Yep, that one. Thawed in a matter of seconds. You know how charming he can be, when he wants to."

"Oh, I know that alright. I'm surprised you're willing to admit it."

Kate shrugged gracefully. Some things are bound to change, that shrug said, and Lanie was perceptive enough to understand that.

"Anyway, you should have seen them together. Jeez, Lanie, he kissed her hand when we said goodbye. I was almost jealous."

The medical examiner laughed and rested her head on her hand.

"Don't you dare complain. Do you know what Javier Esposito said to my parents when he first met them?"

Beckett lifted an eyebrow, looking quizzically at her friend.

"No?" Lanie said sarcastically. "Well, me neither. Every time I've invited him to some sort of family event – and you know me, it's not like there's one of those every week – he's managed to talk his way out of it. Urgent business at the precinct, celebrating his sister's birthday at his folks'. So, you see, I'd take a hand-kissing Castle over that any day."

Kate was left picturing Castle kissing the hand of Lanie's mom (whom she had only met once, and had resolved on avoiding for the rest of her life) and she giggled. Actually giggled. Yep, it was definitely time to slow down on the wine.

The dark-skinned woman looked at her friend with soft eyes, silently rejoicing in her happy looks. She thought over Beckett's tale, and gave a little laugh of her own, shaking her head.

"Only you two," she said emphatically, "would pick a funeral to finally get all romantic."

"Says the woman who mentally undresses one of my team over every, single, dead body we catch."

"That's not true!" Lanie exclaimed, her face a picture of innocence. "Some of them are married."

Jameson Rook rushed into his apartment building and slammed the door behind him. The lights in the lobby had blown – he had heard a neighbour complain about it when he left this morning – and he welcomed the darkness, retreating in the shadows. Rook let out a sigh of relief as the guy who had been following him walked past the building, and he started towards the elevator.

OK, maybe that creepy man with his miserable-looking dog hadn't been dangerous, but Rook didn't enjoy being followed any more than the next guy.

He smirked, thinking of how Nikki would have made fun of him for the way he overreacted. "So, the war-zone reporter's afraid of a homeless man and his famished dog, uh?" Well, it wasn't like he needed to tell her. Thinking of Heat, of course, brought to mind their earlier fight and the way she had stormed out, and a crease of worry between his eyebrows quickly replaced the smirk on the journalist's face.

He felt that he knew her pretty well, by now; and yet she kept slipping through his fingers when he least expected it. Unpredictable. Instinctive. Fenced in. Those were qualities of Nikki he had come to appreciate (and maybe more, but Rook had never put much trust into the L word); and yet they were not making his life any simpler.

He was busy trying to figure out a way to make things better when the elevator doors opened, which is why he didn't immediately notice that someone was waiting for him, leaning against the door of his apartment.

Someone who wore ridiculously high heels, form-fitting jeans and a leather jacket. Someone who was watching him guardedly, her eyes as mesmerizing as ever. Someone who, he knew, had a police badge tucked in her pocket, and a gun at the ready.

Rook's heart gave a little squeeze. Nik.

Rick Castle's fingers stilled above the keyboard, lingered there for a moment, and finally landed into his hair as he yawned and stretched his legs. He had written over fifteen pages, and he was rather satisfied with the way his new idea was coming along. It fit the original plot like a glove – a coincidence or a manifestation of his unconscious genius? Surely it was the second.

Castle stood up, took a few steps around to relax. He tended to slump when he wrote, crowding his laptop in a way that Alexis deemed creepy ("or maybe just sad, I don't know," she had said pensively last week, tilting her head and looking at him with her clear blue eyes). His eyes fell on his empty glass of wine, long ago forgotten, and he bent to retrieve it and bring it back to the kitchen.

The bottle still sat on the kitchen island, and after a second of hesitation, the author poured himself another drink. After all, he had been working non-stop for the last four hours, and he deserved it. He wanted to give himself half an hour before he gave a second look to the pages he had come up with; drinking was as good a way to fill that time as any.

Reaching for his cell phone in his pocket, he checked it in what he hoped was a casual way. No new messages.

Should he text her? Call her? Leave her well alone? It was eleven thirty. Surely she hadn't gone to bed already? He sighed, looked at the screen uncertainly. He pocketed the iPhone back. Took it out once more. It was like being fifteen all over again, except that at the time his phone was nowhere near this fancy. Wait. He didn't have a phone when he was fifteen, did he?

His fingers, the sneaky little bastards, had taken a life of their own and had started typing. You awake? The text said. Ha. Pathetic. He went to erase it, but his thumb hit 'send' out of habit, and since his mind was half busy trying to remember how he stayed in contact with the girls he liked as a teenager, the damage was done before he realized it.

Castle looked at his phone mournfully, knowing full well it was no use to try and take that text back. Now he just had to wait for an answer.

Lanie had put on some music – a CD that Kate had no idea she even had – and the second bottle of wine had been opened, in spite of Beckett's objections. It sat on the coffee table, three-quarters full, having lost the interest of both detective and medical examiner moments ago.

Kate was playing with her empty glass, a slow smile on her lips, listening to her friend's hilarious anecdotes about what life with Javier Esposito was like. No one she had ever met could match Lanie's knack for sarcasm; Beckett's tummy almost hurt from too much laughing.

A comfortable silence settled as both their minds started to wander. There was one thing that the dark-haired detective had kept from her best friend; partly because it was a treasure she wanted to keep to herself, partly because she hadn't really gotten an occasion to say it. But now, in the half-light of her living-room, with the night obscuring the windows and making it feel like they were alone in the world, it felt right.

"He told me that he loves me, Lanie."

The ME's brown eyes widened; she didn't have to ask who Kate meant.

"Did he, now?" she asked, half-frightened, half-hopeful. She still remembered the panicked call she had gotten when Josh had said those three crucial words – panicked and hushed, because Beckett had been standing in the handsome surgeon's bathroom. No, Kate Beckett had never been very good at dealing with impromptu love confessions.

So why did she look so damn serene at the moment?

"And?" Lanie urged anxiously.

Kate laughed quietly and let her head fall back, staring at the ceiling.

"And it… I don't know, it felt like the last piece of a jigsaw coming into place, you know? Like it – grounded me. It was strange."

"You didn't freak out? You didn't hide?"

There was a certain amount of disbelief in the other woman's voice, but the incredulous smile on her lips spoke volumes on its own.

"Maybe I did. Just a little bit. But he makes me… Not want to hide, Lanie. I have no idea how he does it."

The detective bit her bottom lip and hummed thoughtfully. Then she realized her friend was being uncharacteristically quiet, and she turned her head to look at her.

Lanie Parish was watching her with a mixture of relief and joy, and – wait, was that a tear in her eye?

"Are you crying?" Kate asked before she could think better of it.

She watched as Lanie's hand flew up to her face and back, quicker than a small bird.

"Of course not," the coroner asserted firmly. "I've been staring into your damn lights for too long, that's all."

"Those are energy-saving light bulbs," the detective observed with a smile.

"So? They're just as blinding as any others."

The warm brown eyes were daring Kate to say more, and she changed the subject quickly enough. "You two are official, then?"

"You could say that," Beckett answered, playing absentmindedly with a thread coming loose on the cushion she was holding.

"That's…"

Amazing? Wonderful? Or did any of those things sound too fangirly? Before the ME had had time to decide, her friend offered in a neutral voice, "Fast?"

It was like walking on a minefield, Lanie felt – one word wrong and the fragile confidence that Kate had built over the idea of a relationship with Castle would tumble down.

"Do you feel like it's too fast?" She asked concernedly.

The detective sighed.

"It doesn't feel like it. My brain keeps telling me it should."

"Honey, maybe it's time for that brain of yours to shut up, you know? If we're honest, girlfriend, this has been three years in the making. And it's not like there's an "official couple timeline" we've all got to follow. You just have to adapt. Hell, I'm practically living at Javier's right now, and it's only been six months. Am I scared? Course I am. But does it feel right? You bet."

Beckett smiled a little, pleased that things were going well for those two. And she had to admit that what Lanie said made sense.

"We haven't even been on a date," she pointed out, curious to know what her friend would say to that.

"Depends on your definition of a date," the coroner shot back smartly. "And, seriously, girl? Dates are overrated."

Kate pictured Castle in a dress shirt, holding flowers with the lopsided smile she liked so much; Castle sitting in front of her in a classy but low-key restaurant, suggesting that she taste his order, and she silently disagreed. But Lanie did have a point. They didn't need dates to learn to know each other. At the stage they were at, dates were more of a luxury. A luxury the detective wished for, yes (and she had no doubt that the writer, being the romantic that he was, wanted it too) but she already knew.

She already knew she'd have fun; she already knew they'd fight, and make up, and probably fight again, because they could both be so goddamn stubborn. And she knew he'd make her feel alive, and cherished, and listened to.

Those were things Richard Castle was pretty good at.

Lanie took off not long before midnight – she had to be in the morgue early in the morning, since bodies kept dropping at an alarming rate. She didn't hug Kate, but she did squeeze her hand; which, on the ME's scale, was about just as big.

Beckett saw her off, slightly envious that she was going home to her boyfriend; then she became aware of it and shook the feeling away.

Closing the door, she looked around for her phone, and her brow furrowed when she didn't find it. Oh, her bedroom. She had left it in her bedroom after calling Lanie. It was rare for the detective not to keep her phone close; but she wasn't on call, and she had been more focused on other things tonight. Retrieving the phone, Kate saw that she had two messages. At least Prudence hadn't tried to call, she thought with some relief and a twinge of guilt. The first text was from Ryan, informing her that they had closed the case and that she had been right – the wife had been involved, though she wasn't the killer. She had hired a "professional" thief to steal the things she wanted to keep out of the divorce settlement; husband had come early, thief had gotten scared and shot him.

The detective read this with mild interest, eager to get to the other text, the one that had Castle's name on it. She opened it and read, You awake?

She pressed her lips together, then realized she was alone and didn't need to hide her smile. Checking the reception time, she saw that she had gotten the text over half an hour ago. Mmh. She wondered what he was doing now, and hoped he wasn't overreacting to her lack of an answer. Kate remembered with some uneasiness the look on his face when he had asked, "You don't want to do this anymore, do you?"

Damn. She could simply text him back, right? Biting the inside of her cheek, Kate looked up at the clock on the wall. Ten past twelve. Could she show up at his door at ten past twelve?

More importantly, was this anything other than a terrible idea?

Oh, fuck off, she told the voice of her conscience. So what if she wanted to see Castle? They were both adults, for god's sake. Their choices were theirs, and only theirs. She didn't have to follow a stupid "don't call him back before three days" rule. It was Castle, and she was going to see him tomorrow anyway.

There was no time to change; if she opened her drawers, Kate knew she'd start reconsidering. The detective threw on a jacket, grabbed her phone and keys, and glanced, undecided, at her badge and service weapon. Chances were she wasn't going to need them tonight. She slammed the door behind her – her neighbour, Mrs. Peterson, would yell at her whenever she got a chance, but at the moment Beckett couldn't have cared less.

When his pride had overcome his idea that staring at his phone may help bring him a message from Kate, Castle went back to the couch and started proof-reading his recent production. A couple of typos were quickly corrected; some sentences got reshaped, and he deleted a few paragraphs with a wince; but on the whole, Rick wasn't unhappy with what he had written. He hoped Gina would feel the same way.

He was getting to the end of it when someone knocked on his door. Still absorbed in the reading, Rick answered absentmindedly, "Coming!" His mother had probably forgotten her keys again, he surmised. He deleted a semi-colon that had no business being where it was, then got up to open the door.

It wasn't Martha, his brain noted belatedly, as he tried and failed not to gape at Kate Beckett standing on his doorstep, her hair in a messy bun, her clothes pretty much the same as his – sweatpants and a t-shirt – her eyes wide and nervous.

It seemed like reality was taking fiction as a model, he thought, vaguely amused. He had just been writing about Rook finding Nikki on his doorstep, and here was Kate showing up on his, Richard Castle's.

Except reality was a whole lot better than fiction, because in reality he got to yank Kate inside, breathe in her wonderful smell, rid her of her coat and bury his face into that place where her neck and her shoulder came together in an graceful line. He got to wrap his arms around her and hold her close, crowding her – and maybe he had fallen asleep while writing and this was just a dream, after all, because she didn't even try to make him let go.

Kate didn't move, didn't say a word, stunned by the sudden contact, the warmth of Castle's body, the little puffs of air he let out, hot and heavy against her skin.

For a minute, standing at his door, she had thought he had gone to bed and she'd get no answer; but when he had come out she had realized she was not ready for the sight of him wearing a dark, fitting t-shirt that showed off his nice chest, with his hair adorably ruffled and his blue eyes shining attractively. She had been utterly unprepared, and she had felt silly, standing there without words, like they were suddenly back at square one.

And then he had grabbed her, pulling her in without meeting any resistance, and he had…wrapped himself around her. She couldn't think of a better way to put it. It wasn't even sexual (okay, scratch that – it wasn't overtly sexual, but it was still close contact between her and Castle); it was sweet, familiar and appeasing. Like he was reassuring himself that they were real, that this thing between them wasn't a figment of his imagination. Kate didn't need the reassurance (talking to Lanie had made it real enough) but she took it all the same, rubbing her cheek slowly against his hair.

He had surprisingly soft hair, for a guy – Josh's hair, on the contrary, looked soft because it was dark and sleek, but it was disappointing to the touch. And she had just compared Rick's hair to Josh's. That was creepy. Creepy, Kate. And wrong.

"Are you alone?" she asked, needing a distraction.

He grumbled something that sounded like a yes. Shit, Kate thought. She had kind of hoped that Martha would be there. Not that she wanted to see Martha – it would have been a lie to pretend otherwise – but the actress's presence would have provided some sort of safety catch.

Oh, well. Beckett noticed the laptop sitting on the coffee table, and she drew back an inch or two, trying to meet Castle's eyes.

"Have you been writing?"

He loosened his hold on her a notch, gave her a warm smile.

"As a matter of fact, I have. And before you ask, no, you don't get to take a peek."

"Like you could keep me from taking one if I wanted."

"Maybe I could," he answered with a sly smile. "My methods may not be exactly traditional, but…"

Kate wasn't fast enough to hide the aroused look that crossed her eyes when he deliberately trailed over the words, to his delight. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, too, making her even more beautiful in the dim light. Had she been drinking? He wondered idly. That would make sense – not that he didn't enjoy having Kate Beckett show up on his doorstep at night (quite the opposite, really) but he wasn't expecting it. Then again, that was the beauty of the whole thing, wasn't it?

She was always unexpected.

"Did you talk to Lanie?" Rick asked, feeling like he was in charge of the conversation, and reluctantly stepping back from Kate.

"She came over," Beckett replied with a smile.

"Ah," Castle said, not altogether surprised. That explained the drinking. He'd never seen Kate intoxicated, he thought with some interest; he had only ever seen her a bit tipsy, like she was tonight – more flirtatious than usual. "Should I be worried?" he asked teasingly, referring to their girl talk.

"Should you?" the detective shot back mysteriously, and her look was a cross between Mind your own business and Where is that ego of yours?

She was incredible. "Guess I shouldn't. You're here."

He stopped in time; "it's the only thing that matters" would have been the next thing to come out of his mouth. She watched him with a half-smile, swaying on her feet a little, and he wondered if that was the signal for take off my clothes now you idiot. Probably not. She had told him to stop assuming things, after all – but on the other hand, it was after midnight, and she was standing in front of him, looking much too sexy for her own good.

Before he realized it, his hand had reached for her hair tie and let the dark curls tumble down on her shoulders. He loved her hair down. God, he loved her hair long. It suited her, brought out her clear, sharp, wide-eyed beauty.

Rick had to clear his throat and look away.

"Want to stay here tonight?" he asked before he could help himself, and just in case she chose to misunderstand him, he added, "Plenty of room. Empty rooms, too."

He wanted it to be clear that it was up to her, really, one way or the other. The writer would have been content just to stand there all night, as long as he got to gaze at her.

Kate wavered. If she stayed, she wouldn't be staying in an "empty bedroom". That much she knew. And it probably wouldn't be the end of the world if they slept together tonight (her body enthusiastically seconded that proposition). But Beckett had taken a philosophy class in college, and she was no stranger to the notions of desire, satisfaction and deferred gratification.

She kind of liked what they had now; she didn't mind making that game last a while longer. And if this was to be her last first time ever… Oh, boy. Castle was rubbing off on her with his 'always' and his declarations of love. Think small, Kate. So, deferred gratification.

From the look on the author's face, that wasn't exactly what he was into.

"No," she answered at length, and she felt a little sorry when she saw his disappointed pout. "I don't have any clothes here, and I have to be at the precinct early tomorrow. And my bed misses me," Kate added innocently.

The pout disappeared and Rick's eyes twinkled.

"That's a feeling I can relate to," he whispered seductively.

"Really, Castle? I'm standing right in front of you."

"Not right now, silly. I'm just saying, in general, missing you is a feeling I can relate to."

He grinned charmingly, and Beckett was torn between laughing and rolling her eyes. He could be so goddamn sappy.

"I'm never gonna get to be the girl in this relationship, am I?" she asked, her tone heavy with sarcasm.

Rick looked a bit insulted (even though his heart had leapt to hear her say the word "relationship" so lightly, knowing she was referring to the two of them, together) and he said thoughtlessly, "Hey, I'll let you be the girl. When you're pregnant."

Kate's eyebrows went up, and the writer looked down at his feet, suddenly wishing there wasn't a direct connection between his brain and his mouth. He even blushed a little; and he looked so sheepish that Beckett actually smiled.

"Nice, Castle," she said laughingly. "Very smooth. Is that what they taught you in How to Scare a Girl 101? And since we're at it, anything else you want to mention? I don't know, wedding rings, engagement party? No?"

He shot her a baleful look, but a corner of his mouth went up as he stared at her in wonder.

"I'm never letting you go," he murmured, sounding like he was addressing himself rather than her. She answered anyway.

"Careful, Rick. A girl might hold you to that."

There was a smile in her voice, a teasing light in her eyes, but he chose to take the words seriously. Well, almost seriously.

"Please do," he said. "Feel free to hold me anytime."

She wanted to laugh, but something in his expression stopped her. Castle's face was dark and intense, and Kate felt herself moving forward, almost hypnotized. He had settled against the back of the couch, which meant that even with the flats she had slipped into in her hurry to leave her apartment, they were about the same height.

He watched her come to him, his eyes welcoming, but the rest of his body completely still. He was letting her do all the work, she thought, and a smile briefly touched her mouth. He lifted an eyebrow, silently asking what was funny; but she shook her head. There was only a few inches left between them; talking was the last thing she wanted to do.

Kate let her hand curl over his cheek, leaned in and pressed her lips to his, taking her time. She kissed the corner of his mouth, his upper lip, then the bottom one; and when she reached the other corner, she opened her mouth and gave a flicker of tongue, delighted by the shiver she felt run through him.

Rick parted his lips, mirroring her actions, but he still didn't take command. He was simply responding to her. Kate breathed in and out into his mouth, moist, shaky breaths; and it felt like the single, most erotic thing she had ever done. Oh, God, she thought, when her chest tightened almost painfully as her tongue traced the roof of his mouth, excruciatingly slow. This was too much. He was too gentle, too careful; she couldn't take it. And yet her body soared at the soft, barely-there touch, at the control he was giving her. What was it that Natalie Rhodes said? Less is more?

Oh, yes, she thought dizzily, losing herself in the kiss, less was more. Something that Josh, despite his incredibly talented hands and mouth, had not learned. Oh, shit. She didn't want to be thinking about Josh – what was wrong with her?

The conversation with Lanie came back to her. Maybe they were going too fast. Maybe it was too soon. She didn't want to be thinking about Josh, but she couldn't help it.

She would wait. She would wait until Castle was the only one in her mind, in her heart – from the way things were going right now, it wouldn't take long. Rick deserved it; hell, they both deserved it.

She hummed happily when his tongue came out to dance with hers languidly, and Kate let herself enjoy it for a moment before she braced herself, placing a hand on his chest, intending to push herself away. Castle couldn't read her mind, though, and he interpreted it differently.

Kate realized how much he had been holding back when he unleashed the full force of his passion on her – the author propped himself up, towering above her, his hands coming up to rest on both sides of her neck and tangle into waves of hair. Oh, she thought as his kiss went from leisurely to deep and demanding in a split second, as his body pressed, hard and hot, against her. Oh.

He had her backed against the kitchen counter before she could wrap her mind around what was happening, and she couldn't do anything but answer fire with fire, teasing with teasing. His teeth grazed her soft mouth, and she bit on his lower lip playfully; the sound he made had her writhing against him. His hands left her neck to travel south and Kate gasped. What a brilliant idea not to put on a bra, girl. The t-shirt she wore was an old one, and the silky fabric had become thinner over the years – so much so that the feel of his thumb on her breast was as sharp as if she had been naked.

She moaned and let her head fall back, and Rick feasted on the expanse of skin she offered on doing so, licking, kissing and sucking at neck, shoulder, clavicle – anything he could his mouth on. Why again had she wanted to stop? Kate's heart was pounding wildly in her chest, and she just wanted him closer – closer –

Whether she had actually spoken the words, or he just felt the same way she did, Castle ground his hips against hers, sliding a knee between her legs, and applying pressure where she needed it most. Kate whimpered – goddamn whimpered – and she wrapped her arms around his neck, brining his mouth down to meet hers, impatient, needy, desperate.

Overwhelmed. She was overwhelmed. She just wanted – she wanted… "Oh," she breathed as one of his hands found its way under her shirt, stroking the smooth skin of her hips. Josh had always said this spot was softer than any other.

Crap.

Kate's eyes flew open as she suddenly remembered why she had meant to leave. Too soon. But she wanted him so bad. The detective made a small noise of frustration at the back of her throat, and Castle, picking up on it, on her hesitation, asked breathlessly, "What's wrong?"

She didn't answer, and he drew further back, anxious to meet her eyes. Beckett's whole body mourned the loss of contact. Her eyelids were shut, because she was working furiously on regaining her control, but when Rick called her name softly, she just had to look at him.

It was bad. He looked so…ridiculously attractive, with his hair sticking out in every direction, his eyes still dark from wanting her, his lips parted in an unspoken question. She wanted nothing more than to kiss him again, but somehow she refrained, tracing his jawline with her fingertips, light and gentle, while she waited for her heart to slow down.

"I love you," she whispered when she had the control of her voice again, and the words surprised them both. Beckett watched in wonder as shock, then joy, then tenderness filled his eyes. "But when we do this," she went on, flashing him a sexy little smile just because she could, "I want it to be only you in my mind, Rick. And right now, it's just…a little too soon," she breathed out. She couldn't be more explicit; she didn't want to hurt him. He understood her too well, anyway; and his face darkened as he caught her meaning.

Kate let her hands slide from his shoulders, but Castle caught them before they had gone all the way back to her sides, and brushed a kiss against her knuckles. He gave her a small, but heartfelt smile.

"You know, this might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me," he said, wiggling his eyebrow.

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Really?" Kate shot back sarcastically. "I don't know, I kinda liked that Hooch comparison."

"Oh, yeah. Who doesn't like to be told they look like a dog?"

"Please, you were just asking for it. Besides, I think Hooch was pretty cool."

"He was. For a dog," Richard said emphatically, faking hurt as he stepped away.

A giggle escaped the detective before she could help herself - it was always better than the moan she had repressed when he had broken all contact between them. Castle looked at her with interest; he tilted his head, parted his lips… And changed his mind.

"Too easy," he grinned (his actual reason had more to do with his fear that if he teased her, she would never giggle again in front of him. The sound was much too pleasing for him to run such a risk).

He extended a hand to her, his heart swelling with contentment when Kate took it without any further consideration; and they walked back to the door together, Rick stopping to grab her jacket from the couch.

"See, I'm letting you go and being all nice about it," he couldn't help saying, though he was well aware that it kind of defeated his purpose.

Beckett looked like she was thinking the same thing; yet she simply smiled, and said, "I'm impressed, Castle."

The writer couldn't tell if she was sincere or if she was just laughing at him. Maybe both. He held her jacket for her to slide into, and she turned back to face him, her green eyes sparkling.

Kate stood on tiptoe, putting a light hand on his shoulder, and she kissed him. He didn't need to be a Beckett-expert to read that particular kiss; it had one flagrance, one meaning written all over it. It was a promise.

Soon, it said.

Castle was more than okay with that.

He let go when she did, noticing with some satisfaction that she was twisting a lock of hair around her index and chewing on her bottom lip. Rick opened the door; Kate gave him one last, disarming smile, and she left.

Needless to say, it was some time before the author fell asleep.

Chipper did not even begin to describe Castle as he strode into the 12th precinct the next morning. It was a good thing there were lids on the cups of coffee he was carrying; without them, the bounce in his step would have sent burning liquid flying everywhere a long time ago.

The elevator was taken; he took the stairs. And he whistled for the whole time it took him to reach the homicide floor. There were a couple of people who gave him surprised, even disapproving glances, but he met them all with a wide grin. Most of them just looked like they thought he was crazy.

"Hello, hello, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern," he greeted cheerfully as he neared Ryan and Esposito's desks.

The Hispanic detective raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

"Dude, it's not eight yet. It's too early to be deciphering whatever you just said."

"Besides," Kevin joined in, "I'm not sure how I feel about you calling us like the traitors in Hamlet, Castle. I think he's trying to insult us, bro," he said to his partner.

If Javier had learned one thing during his years as a cop, it was how to look threatening, and he presently directed all that knowledge at the writer.

"You trying to insult us, Castle?"

"No. Nope. Not at all. Wasn't my intention. I shall call you… Timon and Pumbaa. They're not traitors."

Ryan sniffed at him, though the curve of his mouth seemed to indicate a smile wasn't far.

"And which one is Pumbaa, exactly?"

Rick looked from Kevin, with his blue eyes and his nice suit, to Esposito, who was looking more dangerous by the minute, and back.

"Ah," he said. "My bad. That comparison doesn't seem to be working out so well. You know, I'll just sit there in silence and write. Won't bother you again, I promise."

He flashed them a brilliant smile, and settled into Kate's chair, reaching for a sheet of paper. The two detectives exchanged perplexed glances. The author was normally a rather good-humoured fellow, no doubt – but this was not the norm. He looked so happy that it seemed nothing could get to him.

The duo shrugged, and with heavy sighs, turned back to their paperwork. Knowing Castle, they'd figure it out soon enough.

Kate stepped out of Roy Montgomery's office wearing a small smile that would have been invisible to an untrained eye. She had asked the captain if, hypothetically, the precinct would tolerate a personal relationship between a cop and a civilian who worked as a consultant, providing that PDA were kept to a minimum and that it did not affect the investigations. Roy had looked at her with a warm, knowing smile, and had replied that no, hypothetically, he'd have nothing against such a thing.

Then he had said, his brown eyes softening, "I'm happy for you, Kate. About damn time, if you ask me."

She'd blushed, tried to hide her own smile, and answered with a formal, "Thank you, sir."

Kate had made the decision to talk to Roy this morning, after a night of...interesting dreams involving Castle. No nightmares; not this time. Part of her had argued against this initiative, fought tooth and nail, arguing that it was much too early, that she should wait and see what happened before taking any step of this kind. But the other part (the one that told Rick things like "I love you" and smiled dreamily whenever she thought of Whitesboro) had held on, firm and unmovable. They were doing this. And she was going to make sure they did it right, period.

So here she was now, her heart beating a little faster than normal, left to wonder how exactly she was going to handle this. Her eyes landed on the large shoulders of her unofficial partner; he must have gotten here when she was talking to Roy. It was early for him to be in at all; it was only a little after eight. Kate leaned against the wall for a moment, watching him from afar, amused at how oblivious he could be.

He had set two – extra-large, she noticed – cups of coffee on her desk, and was sitting in her chair, scribbling something on a piece of paper. Ryan and Esposito, obviously intrigued, were looking at him surreptitiously while filling the paperwork for their closed case. Whatever Rick was writing, it got him so excited that he accidentally dropped his pen (from where Beckett was standing, it looked like the thing had jumped out of his hand) and banged his knee against the desk in the process of retrieving it. He let out a light yelp, paused to look at the damage, and went back to his writing. The two remaining members of the team were smirking openly by then, and yet Rick didn't seem to notice.

He made one last flourish with his pen, then put it aside and reached for his coffee. Kate would have issued a warning, had she been closer; as it was, what she had expected happened: Castle burned his tongue and hissed in pain.

That drew a snigger from Esposito and a not-so-well-hidden smile from Ryan, and Kate decided that it was time to turn the tables on them. The bullpen was quiet, like most mornings; everyone was still in the stage of waking up, and minding their own business. If things had been different, she would probably not have dared to do what she did next.

The dark-haired detective walked up to her desk, waved at the guys and stopped beside Castle, who still had a hand over his mouth – on any other day, she would probably have commented on his futile attempt to ease the burn away.

"Burned your tongue again, Castle?"

He nodded (she didn't miss the spark that lit up his eyes the moment he saw her), and she leaned in, gently pushing his hand away. He let her, even though he gave her a perplexed look.

"Let me see."

His lips parted in bewilderment. Kate didn't let herself hesitate; she closed the rest of the distance and kissed him, quick but thorough, relishing the taste of coffee that lingered in his mouth. Then she drew back, absorbing with satisfaction the dazed expression on Rick's face, and said, "Feeling better?"

He nodded again, this time much more enthusiastically, and she grinned a little. From the corner of her eye, she could see her fellow detectives' jaws hanging open.

"Now get out of my chair."

Never before had Castle been so quick to obey an order. Beckett snatched up her coffee and settled in her seat, enjoying the view. Esposito was giving hearty slaps to Ryan's back; the Irish detective, for an unknown reason, had choked on his own drink.

"You okay over there, Ryan?" the lead detective asked, in a not-so-concerned tone.

Jenny's fiancé attempted to nod, and raised a hand to signal that she didn't need to worry. Esposito narrowed his eyes at her, and she met his gaze squarely, daring him to say a word. He looked away first, but not before the corners of her mouth had twitched upwards suspiciously.

Her writer, she found when she turned his way, was staring at her adoringly; hell, he made it impossible for Kate to hold back her smile any longer. She stored the moment away for further enjoyment, before glancing back at her computer.

"Back to work, guys."

The phone chose this exact moment to ring, and the detective picked it up, well aware that three sets of eyes had fixated on her.

"Beckett," she said.

There had been a murder at the corner of Lex and the East 60th Street; Kate grabbed a post-it, wrote down the exact address, and thanked the uniform at the other hand of the line.

"Body," she said simply, turning to find that Castle had already put on his jacket and was now extending hers for her to slide into. Well, someone was eager today. She accepted his silent offer, a small part of her aware that they were repeating their moves from the night before, and looked at Ryan and Esposito, who were watching expectantly.

"Think you two can postpone the paperwork and come along?"

"I don't know," Esposito said, his face grave. "Paperwork is a very serious business –"

"Dude," Ryan cut off reprovingly, elbowing him and jumping to his feet. "Yep," he told Beckett with a half-smile. "Paperwork can wait."

"Good," she replied, a twinkle in her eye.

Knowing they would catch up, she started towards the elevator, Castle in her tow.

A/N: In spite of my saying this was the last chapter, it turns out one last, short scene was required to make it complete. As I couldn't post it along with the rest, you will find it as the last, thirteenth chapter. So do read on, please, and thank you so much for following this story to the end.