"If you like pina coladas, and getting caught in the rain,"
"Hmm?"
"If you're not into yoga, if you have half a brain,"
"Kate?"
"If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape,"
"Oh my God, Kate."
"I'm the love that you've looked for, write to me and escape."
He took quick strides through her apartment, and walked into the bedroom, toward her voice. The bathroom door was closed and he couldn't help but wonder if she would have left it open if she knew he was coming.
"I didn't think about my lady,"
He smiled.
"I know that sounds kind of mean,"
He was stupefied. He had spent nearly every day with her for as long as he could remember, but he had never heard her sing. He had never even contemplated whether she liked to sing or not, let alone if she was good at it. Classic Kate. She had this way of revealing little pieces of herself to him that he never would have guessed even existed. Of course she was great at singing. She was great at so many things.
"But me and my old lady,"
He took off his sports coat and draped it over the chair in the corner of the room. He walked over to the dresser, unbuckled his belt and took off his pants, folding them and putting them in his drawer. He unbuttoned his shirt, taking it off and folding it, before putting it in the drawer.
"Had fallen into the same old dull routine."
Clad in just his undershirt and boxers, he stumbled over a pair of her shoes on his way to the bed.
"So I wrote to the paper,"
He sat on the side of the bed for a moment before mustering up the energy to swing his legs over onto the mattress and lie down.
"Took out a personal ad."
He heard her turn off the shower just as he shut his eyes, the notion of sleep overwhelming him as soon as he had positioned himself on the bed.
"And though I'm nobody's poet,"
He heard her shuffle around, her feet padding lightly on the smooth tile.
"I thought it wasn't half bad."
He pictured her wrapping a soft towel tightly around her body, folding the upper corner of the material under the first layer of cloth, on the left side of her chest, to keep it in place. He pictured her grabbing another towel from the rack and then doing a forward fold, ducking her head just enough to wrap the second towel around the back of her head and around her hairline, making sure her hair in its entirety was secure within the makeshift headdress. He pictured her picking up her phone off the counter and wiping the fog from the screen with her towel. He pictured her checking all her missed notifications, seeing the two missed calls from him, the Can I come over? message, and the I'm on my way over text. He pictured her smiling.
She quietly emerged from the bathroom, along with some steam, and he opened his eyes. He swore she had never looked as beautiful as she did in that moment, her face free of makeup and stress and worry, her smile bright and just for him.
"I like pina coladas."
She cocked her head slightly to the right, waiting for clarification.
"And getting caught in the rain."
"Oh…" Her voice faltered. "My God."
The last part came out as a whisper and her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment.
"Castle, I-"
"-Have a beautiful voice." He interjected.
"Listen, can we just agree to never speak of this again?"
She was looking down and he couldn't help but laugh. This woman, this beautifully remarkable woman, was embarrassed because he had heard her sing. The same woman that had no problem going undercover and wearing a tight, barely-there dress and dancing provocatively in a night club with him and reaching under him, touching places she had never before touched, searching for a crowbar in the confines of a car trunk and kissing him for the first time, hard, twice, in front of a stranger.
"You did not just laugh."
He was still thinking about their first kiss when he laughed again.
"I'm glad you find my embarrassment funny, Castle. Just know that the couch is not nearly as comfortable as the bed."
"I already know that."
She frowned.
"Let's make a deal."
"I'm listening," She hummed.
"I won't laugh at you again if you promise to never stop singing in the shower."
She scoffed.
"I'm serious! Also, I get to sleep in the bed."
"That's quite a deal."
"So what do you say?"
"Hmm, I don't know, Castle. Might have to sleep on it."
She winked at him and walked over to the dresser. She shimmied out of the towel that was around her body, letting it drop to the floor before opening the first drawer on the left.
"You know," He started, "It seems pretty counterproductive for me to leave clothes here if you are the only one who ends up wearing them."
"Would you prefer I wear something else?"
"I'd prefer you not wear anything."
She laughed as she unraveled the towel from her head and shook out her hair a few times before opening his drawer and pulling his faded grey tee shirt over her head.
"But you in my shirt is a close second."
She was standing in front of the dresser, facing the bed, looking at him.
"I love you."
It was the first time she had told him in a moment in which she wasn't in a suspect's apartment, crying, telling him he needs to leave, preparing for death. She was in her own home, with him, and she was one hundred percent alive.
"You deserve more than just a drawer because I love you."
He was sitting up in the bed, smiling at her.
"The drawer, Kate?"
She nodded.
"The drawer is perfect."
"I want to give you more."
He got off the bed and walked over to her until they were less than a foot apart.
"I love the drawer."
"No, Castle, it's not-"
"I love you, Kate."
She smiled and he kissed her.
"But it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if I had some closet space."
She laughed into his lips and hit his chest lightly.
"Kidding, Kate."