A/N: I apologize for the delay and for not responding individually as I usually do. Know that I've read through them all and can't thank you guys enough for the kind comments.

Between getting my second vaccine dose and school work I've been pretty run down and have had little time to do much of anything else. I'm in the final weeks of my semester, so... suffice to say I'm drowning. There's only one chapter to go after this, so hopefully the wait isn't too painful. Enjoy xx

With his tragically embarrassing misunderstanding behind them, Castle's relieved to finally be able to return to normal. Real normal, that is, because what he was parading around as normal before was anything but.

Bubbling beneath this resumed routine, however, is a strong desire to delve into that other tidbit of information Beckett had released. The one where she admitted that she stopped their night together not because she wanted to or because she thought it was a terrible idea (in general, because yes, in that moment it was a bad idea), but because he was too drunk and she wasn't too far behind him and she didn't want their crossing of that line to be when they weren't sober.

The thing is, he doesn't want it to just be something he says casually at the end of a rough case. So, you actually wanted to sleep with me?

The last thing he wants to do is put her on the spot; he's already done that once in the past 24 hours and he really doesn't want to go two for two. But she is the one who brought it up in the first place, offered it up on her own, and if this fiasco has taught him anything it's that he needs to just talk to her.

So, with that in mind, he resolves to let the dust settle and then just do it, just talk to her about it. It shouldn't be hard; contrary to what the past few months may lead one to believe, they can actually have important conversations like the grown adults they are.

"I woke up to a text from Lanie this morning," she tells him that morning in a hushed whisper as they stand in the break room. She turns to him, an expression on her face he can't quite place.

"Oh?"

"She asked me if there was anything I needed. If there was something I wanted to tell her."

"Oh no," he grimaces. That's... not good. "She heard?"

"I doubt she heard anything in that bar, especially from a distance. I guess she was paying closer attention than I thought and was able to read lips better than I was," she shrugs. "I just wrote back I'm not pregnant and she said, and I quote, 'Congratulations, girl! Or, I'm so sorry'. Or I'm so sorry as if I wanted, as if we were—"

She lets out a frustrated, contained groan in the back of her throat and he winces.

"I'm half offended she thinks I wouldn't tell her something like that. She's been trying to get me to..." Her voice trails off and she gives a small shake of her head. "It doesn't matter."

He lets her almost-slip about Lanie's apparent matchmaking attempts slide. For now.

"I'm so sorry, Kate."

He looks over and finds her face blank and he fumbles for something to say, anything to stop whatever train of thought is circling around in her head right now.

"I uh—I guess that means Ryan and Espo know too."

"Maybe. Lanie wouldn't share without talking to me first, but if they did know I'm sure they've already talked to Lanie about it which means she's already told them the truth."

"I'm sorry," he repeats. He's really, genuinely sorry. "I never meant for any of that to happen. It definitely wasn't my plan to just blurt it out in front of them, whether they could hear or not."

She shrugs, a silent it's fine in the gesture, but he knows it's not fine.

Beckett's always been private, always tries to keep her personal life separate from her work life. And yeah, it's better that it happened in front of their friends and not complete strangers who would've gone and posted about what they overheard or what they saw, gotten the story into some ridiculous tabloid, but it's still not ideal.

"They know I'm not pregnant. Now they just probably think we slept together. Par for the course, right?" There's a hint of bitterness, residual from all of the members of the press who've speculated about that scene in Heat Wave and its supposed reflection of real life. So yeah, maybe it's not exactly a new thought process, but it doesn't make him feel any better about it. "It doesn't matter. We've got leads to run down, come on."

The tone of her voice, despite how she fights to keep it light and unaffected, tells him it does matter.

Something's off and he doesn't think it's simply the fact that their friends overheard (or deciphered, whatever the case may be) their conversation, but he doesn't have a chance to respond before she's grabbing her coffee cup, turning deftly on her heels, and striding back into the bullpen.

Two mornings later when Castle shows up to the precinct, Beckett's nowhere in sight. He can tell she's in the building already, her coat draped across her chair and remnants of her morning coffee sitting on her desk, but she's not there or in the break room.

Backtracking, he finds the boys. "You guys seen Beckett?"

They give each other a look and then turn to him with a shrug. "No, man," Espo says. "She was here early. Like, really early."

"Think I saw her with her gym bag," Ryan supplies.

He nods a thank you, drops their two coffees on her desk, and then makes his way up the stairs and to the precinct gym, the place he presumes he'll find Beckett.

And he's right; she's standing in the darkened room, punching roughly at the bag in front of her, the thing swinging with the force of her blow. She's in her workout gear and as he steps closer, he notices a light sheen to her skin, a thin layer of sweat peppering her chest. He does his damndest to keep his gaze on her face and not on the enticing dip of skin above her collarbones.

She notices him after a few more swings and stops, grabs onto the bag to halt its movements. "What are you doing here, Castle?"

"Looking for you."

Heaving in a breath, she licks her lips. "Could you..." She gestures to the water bottle poking out of her gym bag.

"Oh, yeah, here," he says, passing it over. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, of course." Tossing the bottle back into her bag, she places both hands on either side of the punching bag and peers at him from the corner. "You should go talk to the boys. We got another lead."

"Are you—"

"Fine, Castle. I'll be there after I shower."

There's not much he can do but nod and do as she says, so he makes his way back to the bullpen and lets the guys get him up to speed while she remains in the back of his mind.

Beckett shows up fifteen minutes later, changed out of her workout clothes, but, much like the past two days, something's not quite right.

She's uncharacteristically quiet and her body language is completely twisted, tight and closed off where it's usually a bit more relaxed. At least, recently it's been more relaxed around him.

Completely in her head, she's forgetting little things he knows she knows like the back of her hand (nothing case-related, no, but the small details about past conversations or where she put some notes), tripping over her own feet—literally, and he manages to grip the back of her shirt just in time to keep her from face-planting onto the concrete—and he has no idea what to do.

At least last time it was him; he knew exactly why he was so wrapped up and unfocused, but this is Beckett. If anything, she's on her game even when she's off.

After an hour of the silent treatment and an avoidance of eye contact, he pulls her to the side. "Kate, if you're still mad at me I get it, I deserve it, but at least tell me what I can do."

She actually looks surprised. "I'm not—I was never mad."

"Tell that to your face," he says with a huff. She blinks at him. "You've barely said more than three words to me today, you keep sending me off with Ryan or Espo like you did when I first showed up and was a nuisance." Her brows raise and he waves off the comment he knows he's set himself up for. "I thought we were past that, I thought we were—" I thought we were moving toward something more. "I thought we were past that, thought we were... better. It's like pulling teeth just to get you to look at me."

"Castle, I..." Dropping her hands to her side, she exhales. Her eyes slowly meet his. "I didn't—I didn't realize. Really."

He's torn between being relieved that she's not actually mad at him, even if he's still a little upset at himself, and being concerned because it's obvious that she's keeping something bottled up.

"All right, if you're sure. Everything okay, then?"

A tight smile on her face, she nods. It's too quick and she only looks up at him a few seconds later, like an afterthought.

"Yeah. Good."

She's not good, but she's grabbing his hand (tightly) and pulling him back to her desk and returning to the case file as if nothing was amiss to begin with.

It's roughly 60 hours after they finally had The Conversation—not that he's counting—when she bursts into his apartment.

He nearly flies off of the couch with the surprise of it all. His front door unlocks and springs open quickly, which is pretty horrifying when he has absolutely no plans for a visitor. His head whips up just in time to see Beckett strolling in like a woman on a mission.

It doesn't even occur to him that'd it be her and not a wild intruder. The fact that she's the only other person who has a key (it took some convincing but he finally got her to agree to keep the key he'd given her when she stayed with him, for emergencies) that's not already in the loft or off on some three-day Broadway retreat completely escapes him until he's sitting there in shock, blinking up at her.

"Beckett?"

She's panting, one hand braced on her hip, and he wonders briefly if she ran here.

"Why did you do it?"

Her eyes never leave his and while he's thrilled she's actually speaking to him, he doesn't have a single clue what she's talking about.

"Is that what today was about?" he asks instead. "If I did something else I'll apologize, really, I didn't mean to, but I kind of have to know what it is."

She shakes her head. "No, when you thought I was pregnant. When you thought you got me pregnant."

"What?" He's confused. "We went through this pretty extensively, Beckett. I found the box... you know that."

"No," she sighs, running a hand through her hair. It's messy and falling out of the bun she's so carefully constructed on the top of her head. "Why did you say that it'd all be okay? You were so sure. You said that you were in this, the pregnancy, and I want to know why."

Mouth hanging open, Castle stares wide-eyed at his partner. For one of the few times in as long as they've known each other, he's completely speechless.

"Did you say all of that because you thought you got me pregnant and it was the right thing to do, or because it was true?"

Oh. That nearly knocks the wind out of him, catches him so off guard he feels slightly sick.

There's no correct answer.

Okay, that's not entirely true. Really, there is. There's the answer rooted in absolute truth that may just unravel their partnership as it is now and alter the relationship they've so delicately crafted over the past near-three years, and then there's the answer that's untrue, so painfully false, it might salvage them in the long run but cut a little (a lot) deeper in the process.

He doesn't know what she's looking for, what she's ready to hear.

Beckett's always been the cool one between the two; cool-headed, calm when it matters most, rational. But here she is, eyes just short of wild as she stands in his living room, the expression on her face lacking the careful control she's long perfected.

"Come here," he diverts, slowly lifting himself from his seat and inching towards her, slowly. Placing a hand on her forearm, he gently tugs until she lets him guide her towards the couch. "Sit down, Kate. Take a breath."

Exhaling, she doubles over until her face is hidden in her thighs. Castle reaches over, having taken a seat beside her, and rubs circles on her back.

She lets out a laugh and lifts her head. "I couldn't stop... thinking about it," she says softly, shaking her head. "It was funny at first, how that small misunderstanding led to such chaos for you without me even realizing. It's still funny, don't get me wrong, because seriously? But the more I thought about it the quicker it became something... more. Deeper than just funny."

"Okay," is all he says, voice gentle as he waits her out.

"You were so sweet about it."

"I'm sorry?" A confused chuckle breaks free. "Should I have been angry? Yelling?"

Shaking her head, she lets out a low groan, frustration boiling over.

"No," she says. Her nose twitches seconds later, face scrunching. "Maybe, I don't know, Castle! You were so accepting of it. We're not even—" Her arms gesture wildly in front of her, between the two of them. "—and you were so adamant that I wasn't alone, that this baby would be cared for and loved and that we'd have each other."

"I mean, yeah, of course. That's not even a question," he says easily. Truthfully. "I wasn't going to leave you alone, Kate. I wouldn't. I know I've had my moments over the years, I know I have what might be considered a horrible reputation when it comes to women and relationships, but haven't I proved that I'm not that guy anymore? Did you really think I'd just walk away if you were having my kid? That'd you'd tell me you were pregnant and I'd just leave, tell you well, Beckett, you're on your own?"

"I—no, no," she says immediately, eyes flying to his. "That's not what I'm—you're—despite that reputation of yours, you're a good man, Castle. A wonderful man. I never had any doubt that, if I was pregnant, you wouldn't be by my side the entire time. In the time I've known you I know you'll always try to do right by everyone. And that's... very you, it's very sweet. But that's why I need to know if you said that because you thought I was pregnant or because you really wanted—because you wanted to do that. With me."

Or because you really wanted to do that with me.

Do that—that being the whole baby thing, the staying by her side and dealing with everything that pregnancy entails. Morning sickness, late night craving runs, raising an actual, living baby together.

(A baby that would be the perfect blend of the two of them; one that would hopefully get his very best qualities and all of Kate's.

A baby whose face still shows itself when he lays down to sleep; his dark brown hair, gorgeous hazel eyes, and maybe the same subtle dimples that Beckett has, the ones that only really make an appearance when she smiles so wide it nearly splits her face in two.

Just the thought of it sets his skin on fire, the warmth buzzing, palpable.)

She's really asking him this, as if being with her in every respect hasn't been everything he's wanted for the past two years. Maybe the baby thing hasn't been on his radar that long, not until he thought it was already happening, but he wants that too.

Someday.

As if he hasn't longed to be able to hold her and touch her like they do in those dreams he still has every so often but for real. No dreams, no pretenses: just them.

"Because it's fine if you were just trying to be chivalrous, you know," she continues with false nonchalance. It occurs to him that he's remained silent for a beat too long and now she's avoiding eye contact, fiddling anxiously with the hem of her shirt.

Thoughts of crossing the line they've been toeing for a while aside—though maybe that's already been done, bulldozed right through in his bedroom after a drunken celebration—he can't do this anymore. He can't sit here and allow her to believe everything he said, everything he offered, was just him being polite.

"Kate, look at me," he says, tipping her chin with his index finger. "Everything I said, I said because I meant it."

"You—yeah?"

Her voice is so quiet, breaking around the single syllable, and he leans in in an unusual gesture and presses a kiss to her forehead. Keeping his hands braced on her shoulders, he coaxes her gaze away from his chin and upwards.

"Yeah, really," he laughs. "With every fiber of my being, I meant it."

Beckett purses her lips, remnants of a smile peeking through. He reaches over and brushes a piece of rogue hair behind her ear.

"You already know I care about you, Kate. A lot. And I know this might terrify you, but I—I think I could love you too." Her breathing hitches. "Thinking I had accidentally gotten you pregnant was terrifying, you have no idea how terrifying, but... beneath all the panic? Somewhere deep down I knew it'd all be okay for no other reason than because it was you."

"Oh," she manages, a breathy little exhale around a budding smile. "Castle, I..."

"It's okay. I just needed you to know that I wasn't just trying to do the right thing. I was so accepting of it because it was you, Beckett, because no it wasn't planned and no we're not anywhere near that, but I can't say it would've been an unwelcome addition."

Dipping her head, she chews on her bottom lip.

"You don't have to say anything."

He squeezes her thigh and then moves to stand, to go into the kitchen and get them both a glass of water or some tea or a drink, even, but her arm flies out to stop him.

"Wait, no." Her fingers reach out and grip tightly around his wrist. She holds onto him even once he halts, as if he'll disappear should she let go. Slowly, he sits back down, worried for a moment until he catches the curl of her lips. "I'm—I'm not... I'm not good at this," she says slowly. "I'm scared. But I care about you, Castle. And I... I think I—I could love you, too."

His grin splits his face, wide and untamed. "Yeah?"

Her bashful little smile is all he needs.

Later, when they've both had a glass of wine (just one, to warm their bodies and settle the nerves), they're both somehow sprawled comfortably on his couch. His fingers draw lazy circles along her forearm.

He feels positively alight with a boyish giddiness, high on her; her smell, the feel of her body slotted perfectly against his, the joyful spark in her eyes when she looks up at him from beneath her lashes.

"Is that why you were so... uncharacteristically gentle with me? Protective?" she asks all of a sudden, twisting her head to find his eyes. He's lying half behind her, half beneath her, with her body draped across him.

"Hm?"

"Last week," she clarifies. She looks away then, fixes her gaze on the ceiling.

"I'm always gentle with you. Always protective, too."

"I said uncharacteristically," she laughs. "When we were out interviewing suspects you were practically standing directly between me and the perp."

"You noticed that?"

Beckett rolls her eyes, wriggles a bit to get more comfortable and he has to stifle a gasp. "Kinda hard to miss that I'm staring at your ass and not the suspect's face, Castle."

Humming, he nods against her. "Can't tell me you didn't enjoy the view," he teases, and she shakes her head. "I was so hyper-aware of there being another element to protect, I guess. I was terrified one of them would make a move."

"Oh."

"I still can't believe me being protective of you is what set you off," he muses.

She gives him a playful jab of her elbow to his chest, and he groans. "It did not set me off; I'm not a ticking time bomb."

"You came barging into my apartment, Beckett," he reminds with a bark of amused laughter. "Like, actually barged in. I thought you were a murderer."

"You did not."

"I was thirty seconds away from letting out a scream that would rival any of those horror movie girls," he argues, tickling at her side when she snorts. She swats at his arm, squirms so much that she nearly falls off the couch until he pulls her back.

She laughs then, covering her mouth as soon as the sound escapes. But he loves it, gently pulls her hand away and kisses her palm.

"Okay, maybe I was a little... impulsive," she concedes. "It felt like if I sat in my apartment any longer, just stewing in my own uncertainty, I'd go insane."

Castle murmurs lowly into her ear. "I'm glad you were impulsive."

The look she gives him has his insides doing somersaults; her eyes search his face, trail from his lips up to his eyes, and the softness of it all threatens to undo him. She's been unraveling him for years, slowly tugging on the strings of his heart and his sanity like balls of yarn, and she's finally reached the center, only one last knotted thread holding everything together.

If he's not careful, she'll have it undone by morning.

(He thinks it's what he's hoping for.)