(Prompt based on "Like I'm Gonna Lose You" by Meghan Trainor. Some implied sexual themes in the beginning.)

His body remained unmoved from the time he managed to go asleep, but while his mind dreamt, his body kept just as lively. Tensed muscles, a rapid heart beat, sweat seeped into his clothes, his dream vamped him up completely. He had only been asleep for a couple hours, but he seemed consumed by this dream. Though, he spent little time in this state. In a matter of a couple minutes, his eyes shot open, now aware of what reality actually was. In his continued panic he lurched upward, immediately looking towards Beckett, who still rested soundly beside him.

A relief washed over him, and his hands flew to his face to comfort himself. In doing so, he realized the dampness of it, most especially his eyes, which trickled thin trails of tears that collected at the corner creases. What a dream could do.

Going back under the sheets, he slid over towards Beckett, wrapped himself around her, and planted a peck along her temple. He worked cautiously, making sure not to wake her. Actually, even whilst sleeping, she still moved into him and made herself comfortable. She remained undisturbed even with his motions. However he had trouble, staying awake for the rest of the night in attempt to cleanse the residue of his dream, and all the emotions that came with it.

He sat on the idea, on his feelings, on the dream entirely. His eyes were sagged with an exhaustion, a grief that he couldn't shake. So he just thought it out, spilling the words onto the ceiling for him to look upon. He contemplated and gradually he came to a revelation, the face of it revealing itself in subtle presentation.

The realization manifested first at daybreak. Castle made a point to wake up much earlier than usual, and sought to prepare fresh roasted coffee and chopped fruits for breakfast, something quick before they would leave for work. When he returned to the bedroom, he set the food onto the bedside table, then proceeded to turn off the alarms on Beckett's phone, all before crawling back into bed with her. At exactly six o'clock, with the sun starting to pour into the loft, he tried to wake her with a light kiss.

At first she didn't stir. It took a moment before she came to consciousness, and realized his affection towards her lips, and her neck, and her shoulders. She gave him a smile, a soft snicker escaping between it, and ran her hand through his hair.

"It's kinda early—what time did you wake up?" she asked through hazy eyes.

"About twenty minutes ago," he said, continuing to cradle her and kiss her. She laughed a little louder this time as he drew out her excitement. She bent her face to kiss his head as he'd already slipped down to her chest. Though absolutely loving his fondness of her this morning, she couldn't help but wonder on his sudden energy. Usually they'd find their way together…lazily and sloppily, but he was quite ahead this morning.

Not that she didn't like that.

He coaxed her into it, teasing and pleasing her first before rocking together. Each drive drew slow, tenderly with each push and pull, breaths more labored, earnest, and heavy. He hovered over her, his forehead pressed against hers, both of them exhaling into each others mouths. To finish, it seemed as though time slowed. He held her neck, lowered his lips to brush over hers, and mouthed I love you. I love you so much. In return, she too dragged out always. It felt like it lasted forever as they drew towards the end, his face shoved beside her neck and her face into his shoulder to muffle their eventual release.

Neither of them realized it until they looked each other, but when their eyes met again, they both saw gleams—polished, but not quite teary eyes. They both stared softly in awe, catching their breath as they tried to absorb what just happened.

"So…this is new," she said taking her thumbs to wipe his eyes. "That was…different."

"Different, completely awful or—"

"Oh God no—that was…heh. No, definitely nowhere near awful." He kept himself propped up over her, looking down and waiting for response. "I don't think we've had this…be this…"

"What?" she rubbed her hands over his cheeks and in his hair as she thought on her words.

"Intense? I mean—emotionally. I mean that's the first ever I've felt like that. Except maybe the first time we ever…"

He just smiled at her. It was working. His new outlook caused change, good change. "It's a good thing. Trust me," he said reaching down to kiss her. He let it linger, surprising her again with his newfound affection. She didn't fight it, no, but inside a part of her felt slightly uneasy on why and how this came about.

And that curiosity would grow into alarm as the day went on.

—

For much of the day, Castle maximized the amount of time he spent with her. Every opportunity they could be separated, he found a way around it to still be with her. When she went to the restroom, he even waited outside the door to be with her the minute she was out. She didn't realize his efforts until this moment, but even then felt reluctant to say something outright.

"Is everything okay?" she asked as they walked back to her desk.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I'm with you. That's all that matters," he said while giving her a side hug. Unable to formulate the proper response, she just thought, biting her lip as she tried to recall the events of the last twenty-four hours, wondering what had changed. Before she could reach any conclusion, she eyed something on her desk as they drew closer.

"What are these for?" Beckett asked when she sat down. On top of all her paperwork, a large vase filled with flowers bloomed radiantly, a centerpiece for the entire floor of the precinct. White calla lilies, orchids, lilacs, and white roses assorted the bouquet. When she looked up at Castle, her eyes gleamed happily, but a tint of curiosity glazed over them as well.

"Just because," he shrugged. "I can get a bigger one too—"

"No-no," she stopped him quickly. "Gates will have a riot of one over something larger than this already is. It's beautiful, Castle. Thank you."

At that moment, without warning, he bent down to kiss her. Though initially receiving it, she then pulled away swiftly in remembrance of where they were.

"Castle," she hissed. "What are ya doin'? If Gates sees—"

A loud set of knocks simultaneously resounded on the window of the captain's office…angry, angry knocks. When they both turned their heads, Gates' eyebrow cocked, coupled with arms folded. She swatted her one hand, motioning Castle to move away from Beckett. When he stood up straight again, she still continued. Exchanging glances with Beckett, he took a half-step back. When his eyes returned to Gates, she motioned him one more time. And then another. And then another, before he was at least arms length away. At his last step, she smiled and nodded, before pulling her lips back into a poker face and returning to her desk.

Several feet away, Espo and Ryan started to Oooooh at the both of them, shaking their heads and folding their arms.

"Them Castles kissing at work," Ryan started.

"Yeah, highly unprofessional guys. You need to uh, take some notes from me and Ryan here. You'd probably learn a thing or two if you paid good enough attention."

"Oh right—" Beckett started with a mocking voice, "pay real good attention to the guy who brought a date into the break room after hours and the guy who left their tighty-whitey's in the guy's bathroom? Yeah, real champions of professionalism," Beckett said holding back a smile.

"Hey who told you bout that," Espo whispered harsh. His eyes got wide and he rolled in his lips. "I removed the security tape and everything!"

"Let's just say you weren't alone that night—" Castle said, cutting himself off by taking a swig of his coffee.

"And that underwear incident was once, I was on my way to my…other job. And I-I switched out," Ryan said. Castle took his coffee away from his lips for a second, pursing them as he pondered the thought.

"No-no it was at least twice," he started. "I'm sure you remember St. Patrick's day. Kiss me I'm Irish? I hope you didn't want those back, Lazy-Eye Jerry kinda took them and—"

Before Castle could finish, both guys swung the other way on their chairs, going back to their work, fueled by the frustration in the backfire. Returning eyes to Beckett, she looked up at him, a gaze clearly demanding an explanation—both eyebrows raised, thinned lips, and hard eyes. Before either could say anything, her phone rang, and she let it go for the first two.

"Let's talk about this when we get home, okay?" she said reaching for her phone. Long before they could, her mind was already at work trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

—

Checked out for the night, they returned home as soon as they were able. Silence occupied the air between them until they reached the loft, and even then when they arrived, they took their time addressing the subject. After settling down, Beckett grabbed glasses and poured some wine, before she called Castle out to join her on the couch. He was slow and timid in his approach, but she pulled him in, rubbing his hands to ease the evident distress plastered on his face.

"What's goin' on, babe. What's on your mind," she said handing him his glass. He took to his, sipping slow but plenty, hoping to buzz himself and muster up strength to fight his embarrassment over his feelings.

"You know I never really talked to you about this before, mostly because at the time it was hardest for you. It was."

"What was?"

"When…you got shot." Oh. So this is where it starts.

When she didn't say anything, he went on to explain, both of them setting down their glasses, now aware of the context. "I knew that you were dealing with plenty…so it never came up. But I did—I did get affected by that day too—and not just because of you and me, when I told you I loved you. I had nightmares about that day. All those months we didn't talk, some nights thereafter. It haunted me. Each time something was different, something changed. In the ones I could control, either I'd be shot, or you'd be alive. But every other dream, you died, without fail. I'd wake up in a sweat, heartbeat banging through my ears. My mind was tortured with it for a long time. Sometimes I still wonder what would've happened if it had been me and not you. How different things might be.

"But last night…it was the first time in a long while I've dreamt about it. And this time, everything changed. You looked how you do now, and you were wearing your ring. We we're just talking, and then you got shot. It felt like I failed to protect you…again, and I watched you die in my arms. But this was something else. I mean, a dream is a dream right? It wasn't. It didn't feel that way. It felt vivid because you were real. Every bit of you. Your hair was as thick and golden, your as skin soft and fair. Your heartbeat against me, your hands, how you spoke. Even the way you looked at me when it happened. I—I know that look," he stressed. His eyes welled up, and looked up at her for the first time, seeing her in tears too. He cupped her cheek and she held his hand as he continued. "Your eyes, your smile…it was you, and it was all of you, and I was losing all of you. I couldn't do anything.

"Then I woke up and my breathing abandoned me for a good minute because I fell back into our world. That's when I thought to myself…I can't do this. I can't continue treating our relationship the way I have. I didn't want to take you for granted. I wanted to love you like…I could lose you at any moment."

The processing took time. She absorbed the words he said, and he reflected on them as well. They wiped their tears and tried to compose themselves before speaking again. When she set out to talk, she held tight to his hands, brought them to her lips, kissing them first, and held them on her chin after as she began to speak. "I love you, you know that? I love you, Rick. And I love the sentiment, even if it's borne out of a bad experience. But at the same time, I don't want you to feel the need to do these things for me to feel more loved, or that you don't take me for granted. We will never take this relationship, or each other, for granted. Ever. That comes with our vows. Partners in life, baby. If something ever happens to me, when I go, I'll go knowing that I my husband? I married the most loving, giving, brilliant, frustrating, extraordinary, pain-in-the-ass I've ever known," she laughed with tears still in her eyes. He managed one too when she picked up his chin. "I'm so thankful for you. So thankful. Every day. And if I go before you, I'll go the happiest person in the world knowing that I got to love you—and that you loved me, cared for me, and stayed with me, always, until the very end. No one will ever be able to take that from me, from us, or convince otherwise. Okay?"

He pulled her into an embrace and they just lied back on the couch together, holding each other as their sniffles lightened up. "We're not promised tomorrow…" He added after a few moments. She nodded slow, before responding.

"I know. We're not. So I'll kiss you a little longer…until our minutes run out."

"And I'll love you now. Now until the next. Even if tomorrow never comes for us."

"Good," she said, kissing his cheek.

"Good," he said holding her tighter. And for the rest of the night, he didn't let go.

Not even for a second.