A/N: Made it with a New Years update. Sorry if you're in Oz or NZ and off to bed already. Enjoy!

Chapter 6 – Dry Land

When Kate looks up again just seconds later, Castle is gone. She stares at the covers on her bed – at the photographs strewn across her comforter like some stalker's collection of trophies. She feels tired and wrung out, all her earlier excitement and enthusiasm for openness drained away, since this is where it's led her – in bed alone while Castle breaks for the border.

She picks up the photograph Lanie took of the boys singing at the Old Haunt – the one that caught her looking so lovingly at Castle – and then she flips it over to reread the note her friend wrote on the back: Kate Beckett, what the heck are you waiting for? She shakes her head and throws the photograph back down on top of the others, angrily wiping a tear from her cheek, swiping at it with the back of her hand, and then she tosses the covers aside and gets out of bed feeling weary already.

Her feet hit the hardwood floor and she winces at the cold beneath her toes. She snatches up her mug, preparing to take it to the kitchen for a top-up, not much else left to do on this washout of a Saturday. Only as she enters the living room, she pulls up short, gripping hold of the doorframe to steady herself when she sees Castle sitting quietly on her sofa. His body is pitched forward, bowed over his knees, and he's holding his head in his hands.

If he hears her movement, he doesn't look up, just goes on staring down at the floor. But he's still here, she reminds herself, and that is something. So she quietly deposits the mug on the coffee table and moves past him to sit down on the sofa beside him on the blankets she gave him to sleep on last night, before he joined her in her own bed.

She sits and then she waits, quietly, her whole being on tenterhooks, breathing rapid and shallow, heart pounding.

Eventually, after a couple of nerve-wracking moments, Castle finds his voice, finds it in himself to say something that isn't tainted with bitter regret, or hurt, or the aftereffects of his late night drinking session.

"Do you know how long I've waited to hear you say that?" he asks, sitting up straighter when he's finished speaking, turning his head to the side to glance at her.

Kate purses her lips and then drags her gaze up from the floor to meet his. "A long time, I imagine," she nods solemnly, caressing his tired face with her eyes, finding herself lingering on his lips, unable to look way until he speaks again.

"A very long time," emphasizes Castle, rocking backwards and forwards slightly.

"Look, I know what I just said in there doesn't fix everything," she assures him, in case he thinks this is some cheap trick or last ditch effort to stop him running out on her. "I'm not that unrealistic or naive. We've been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours alone. But if you can cast your mind back—"

"Don't, Kate," he interjects, cutting her off, making her heart thrash fearfully in her chest. But then he surprises her when he reaches for her hand and clasps it with his own, tangling their fingers together. "You've done more than enough already," he tells her seriously.

"What—what does that mean?" she asks haltingly, feeling both confused and panicked.

He's holding her hand and yet he's still sending out mixed signals that she's unable to get a read on. Since when did they stop being able to see one another plainly? Or did they ever really have that figured out? Finishing each other's sentences is one thing – an intellectual quirk, a certain level of attunement, maybe even a sort of parlor game - but they've kept parts of themselves hidden for so long it's become an ingrained habit that is hard to break. A default setting they'll both have to master switching off.

Castle turns his head and rests his forehead against her temple and she feels a spark of hope ignite in her chest. His warm, minty breath ghosts over her cheek. His eyes are trained down on their joined hands as if he's studying them - admiring how well they fit together - until he lets go of her hand to put his arm around her shoulders instead, bringing her closer, tucking her protectively into his side. "It means that we have a place to start, I guess. Some common ground…something to build on."

"Wait," says Kate, pulling away a little so that she can see him. "I tell you that I love you and that's the best you can come up with?" she asks, and she's being half-serious and half-joking with this jibe.

Which half they lean towards will all depend on him now; on his next response.

"You didn't like my little construction analogy, Beckett?" Castle asks teasingly, and Kate lets out a surprised breath, something close to laughter that immediately more or less morphs into a sob of relief. "I was thinking about those walls of yours we've been working towards destroying," he reminds her, squeezing her shoulder.

"Right," she says, gently nudging her head back against his forehead, playfully. "My walls," she repeats with a wan smile.

Castle draws her closer again and they sit quietly, side-by-side for a couple of minutes, minds drifting back over the last several hours, reliving all the water that has flowed under that particular bridge.

"I could have killed Ryan for interrupting us yesterday," Castle confesses out of nowhere, scrubbing one hand down over his face, rasping the growth on his chin in the process.

"You know, I thought the same thing at the time," admits Kate. "I honestly wanted to strangle him with my bare hands. But now I'm not so sure. Maybe he did us a favor?"

"Please tell me you have some sane reason, some…well-thought out, rational basis for saying that?" pleads Castle, utterly unconvinced.

"Well, look at where we are now. His interruption brought you here, to my apartment, and you spent the night…" points out Kate lightly, letting her hand come to rest on his bare knee. She rubs her thumb back and forth over the ridge of his patella, discreetly taking in the light golden hairs that coat his muscular thighs. She tucks this new information away in a safe place, along with all the other glimpses and clues she's been gleaning over the last few hours; like how her restless, hard to keep quiet partner can sleep for the entire night in one position without moving an inch.

"Maybe so, but I also have a raging hangover and we fought. You just yelled at me, Kate," reminds Castle, displaying more pessimism than optimism for once.

"Oh, come on. None of that is exactly Ryan's fault."

"No, I guess not," admits Castle reluctantly.

"And it's not like you to be so glass half-empty," chides Kate, giving him a nudge and a quick flash of her smile.

"Please don't mention glasses, half-empty or otherwise," groans Castle, holding his head for effect.

Kate laughs. "I'm just not used to this role reversal. To being the positive one."

"Me neither," admits Castle. "Though I will admit that I could get used to you being this open with me."

Kate chews her lip for a second, apologies and feelings of guilt churning around inside of her. "I'm sorry I've made things so…difficult between us over the years, Castle. It's just who I turned into after—" She shakes her head and squeezes Castle's hand. "Anyway, that's in the past. I promise I'll try to be more open from now on. And no more lies."

Castle squeezes her hand back. "Sounds good to me," he tells her quietly.

"Anyway, what was your plan if we hadn't been interrupted yesterday? Hmm? Ask me out to dinner? Maybe bring me flowers?" teases Kate. "How much longer do you think it would have taken us to get to this – sitting here on a Saturday morning in our pajamas - if you'd taken the gentlemanly, chivalrous route, Castle?"

When she finishes speaking, Castle is grinning.

"You are one ruthless, calculating, pragmatic, unromantic woman. And I love you, Kate Beckett," he says, turning to fully face her, his eyes roaming from her hair to her lips and back up to meet her gaze again.

Kate reaches out to touch Castle's cheek, her fingers curling under his jaw as she strokes the delicate skin beneath his eye with her thumb. The warm fuzz of his scruff brushes against her palm and she's tempted to pause and stroke this too. So much of him she wants to touch and learn about and love. She hesitates for just a second before she leans in and presses her lips against his. The kiss is light, gentle, exploratory, a bridge between what they were and what they are slowly becoming, and she lingers just a little longer before she breaks off to rest her forehead against his, their noses brushing.

She knows he's feeling rough and now they're finally on the same page, they can take all the time they need to move things on to a more physical level. There is no rush once there is certainty. Slower is far sexier; the build up, like great foreplay, will only heighten the experience later.

Kate is smiling when she eases back a little, her cheeks flushed with a new found pleasure and excitement; with the rightness of this intimate, watershed moment.

Castle cocks his head to one side, reaches out to run his hand over her ponytail, which is lying over one bare shoulder, and then he winds a curl around his finger and tugs playfully on the end.

"Still pulling my pigtails?" asks Kate, raising one eyebrow, her eyes dancing impishly.

"Sorry. Never gonna to stop. Not now," he tells her, palming the back of her neck and leaning in again for another soft, emotionally charged, much deeper kiss.

Kate sighs when they break apart, reaching down to stroke her finger over his open palm, smiling when her light touch tickles him and he closes his fingers around hers. "I wouldn't want you to. You keep me in line. Help me get things in perspective. Every homicide cop should have a Castle."

"Department issue?" he laughs in surprise, smoothing his hand up and down her bare thigh. "Gates would love that."

Kate nods in agreement, her lips formed into a permanent smile, despite how tired she's feeling. "Speaking of Department issue," she purrs, reaching for his t-shirt and lightly tugging on the fabric where his well-defined biceps emerges from beneath the sleeve. "You do look good in that shirt."

Castle chuckles through his surprise at this unexpected compliment. "Want a photo for your collection?" he jokes, striking an absurdly comical pose.

"Oh, shut up," giggles Kate, pressing her index finger to his lips. "And not a word to the boys or Lanie about the contents of that box I showed you, or I won't be sharing my other special box with you," she threatens sexily, her expression one of mischief.

Castle's eyes widen at the clear suggestion in her tone. She's being playful, relaxed and flirtatious, and he really can't be grateful enough to her for the skill with which she's managed to save them from themselves and his depths of moroseness this morning in particular.

He mimes locking his lips and throwing away the key.

"Secret's safe with me, Kate," he tells her, taking both her hands in his and just holding them while their minds settle and they revel in the quiet peace of the moment.

"Can you stay?" Kate eventually asks, a small note of self-doubt and timidity creeping into her voice when she finally manages to ask the question that's been bothering her ever since she walked out of the bedroom expecting to find him gone.

"Do you want me to stay? You must be exhausted. It's been a pretty big few days, with the bombing case on top of everything else."

Kate smiles, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. "Castle, I'm asking you to stay. Please, if you can. I have the weekend off. We can just…hang out, talk some more if you want, try and figure out where things stand now. How…"

Kate drops her head and stares at her lap.

"Hey," murmurs Castle, touching the tip of her chin and guiding her head back up so he can see her face again. "How what?"

"How we…take things from here," she shrugs, not articulating very well.

"In that case, I would love to stay, since you asked so nicely. So…off until Monday?"

"I'm back on call from midnight Sunday. That gives us—"

"Less than two days to figure this out," teases Castle, as if two lives entwining can magically be perfected against the clock.

"No. No, we have as long as it takes to work this out," Kate assures him.

"Long as in…?" asks Castle, keen to understand Kate's view of where they are and where they're going. He knows what he would like to happen, but he's still not sure of her vision for them.

Kate shrugs, offering him a tired smile, and she curls up against him on the sofa, lifting her feet up off the floor. "I don't know…forever, I guess? How long is forever, Castle?"

Castle hears what she's saying as well as what she's telling him, and he swallows roughly, trying to keep his composure. "Forever is…as long as we're granted, I suppose." Then he loses it, just a little. "God, you're beautiful like this," he tells her, a surge of emotion catching him off-guard at how willing and earnest and open she's being with him finally. "I mean you're always beautiful, it's just…" He shakes his head, losing his train of thought for a second.

"What?" asks Kate, looking away shyly, before she is inexorably drawn back to look at him again. "Tired, no make-up, in my nightclothes?"

"All of the above, yes, but also just being so…so open with me. Talking about the future like it's just something we do every day."

"I want it to be. I really do. I'm sorry I've been so closed off for so long. But I'm in this now, Castle, because I really, really want to be. No more waiting, no more walls or holding back. I've had enough of being careful around you. I know you. You're not going to hurt me, and I want you to stop trying to prove yourself to me. You don't have to do that anymore. I'm sold," she tells him, with a gentle smile.

"You mean that?"

Kate nods. "I do."

Castle stares at her for a second, his expression one of complete adoration, and then his stomach rumbles and they both laugh, breaking the magic of the moment.

"Right, let me make you something to eat," she whispers, kissing him lightly on the cheek this time before she pulls back fully and sits up straight, carefully placing her feet back on the floor. "You'll feel better with some food inside you."

"Something plain," he practically whines, but for a change Kate finds his little boy routine adorable. "Nothing rich or with sauce or anything," he tells her, wrinkling his nose.

"Got it. Plain. Right, you go next door," she tells him, standing up and then tugging on his hands to help him do the same. He's a big guy and he's playing dumb, so he nearly topples her back down into his lap. But Kate is strong and she persists. "Come on, back to bed. I'll make us some eggs and toast. Bring it in when it's ready. Go put your feet up. Newspaper should be outside the front door."

"You're spoiling me," he grins, pausing on his way to her front door to leer at her long legs and taut ass in those tiny grey cotton shorts.

"Get used to it," she tells him, with an easy smile. "Now scram."

Kate is cracking eggs into a bowl when she feels his hands land on her hips. He's right behind her, his body radiating heat into her skin in the stuttering instant when she stops what she's doing, losing a flake of earth-toned eggshell into the bowl along with the whites and yolks. She freezes, pausing to enjoy the solidity, the reassurance and comfort of having him here - here in this way.

She wipes her hands on a kitchen towel, smiling helplessly as Castle lightly runs his fingers up and down her upper arms. Slowly, quietly, he bends over her, nuzzling his nose into her ponytail before he leans to one side to press the sweetest kiss to the half of her nape that is bare, where she's swept her hair off her neck to one side. A jolt of electricity races down her spine and she clutches at the countertop to keep her knees from buckling.

Castle moves his hands from her arms back down to her hips, and then he slides one large, warm palm over her stomach, instantly melting her insides. Every neuron in her brain, every synapse and nerve ending is alive with the sensation of him touching her, surrounding her. Muscles contract, shivers and jolts ripple through her body, as she comes alive under his hands.

"Just to be clear," he whispers behind her ear, his chest grazing her shoulder blades as he brushes the velvety curve of the outer shell with his lips, "we are starting something here?"

His question, his need to ask it and the slight shade of doubt in his voice are almost painful to hear.

Kate drops her own hands from the counter to cover his on her hip and stomach, fingers worming their way into the gaps she manages to open up with faint pressure and a little persistence as she nods. But then her mind begins questioning and she realizes this still isn't enough reassurance for either of them. So she turns within his arms, her bare feet placed between his, and she faces him.

"Castle," she murmurs, cupping his earnest face in both hands, "we're already so deep into this I can't remember when it started. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

He looks at her, waiting patiently for her to say more, to explain more about how she sees them, because he really, really wants to see her vision of them - to see them as she sees them.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't know when I fell in love with you, whether it was one year in or two or maybe even somewhere within the first few months. My point is, we've been together one-way or another more of less from the beginning. It really has just been you and me for a long time. That's how other people see us - Castle and Beckett - a package deal. And nobody messes with that or gets in the middle of it, because even when they did it never lasted."

She stretches up on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to the side of his mouth - a kiss of reassurance.

"No one ever compared to the way you made me feel. Even when you were getting on my nerves or we were fighting, no one made me feel as special, as...understood, as safe or wanted or as loved as you do. In my head I think I've been spoken for...promised to, for a really long time. Face it, Castle, neither of us has been on a date in…well, forever. And I think there's a simple reason for that. We've been waiting...for each other. So are we starting something? Most definitely. But it's really just a new phase. We were never not something, Rick."

When she finishes talking, her face is glowing, her eyes shining, and when he tilts his head and slants his mouth over hers, she is as willing and welcoming and eager as he could ever have hoped for. Her lips part to receive him and she utters a moan filled with so much repressed need as she clings to him. And Castle can't help but feel it too. He feels complete with her. He feels at home here in her arms, and for the first time in as long as he can remember he knows that he is genuinely loved by this extraordinary woman just for being himself alone, for being no more or less than he is - faults and all. And with this realization, he is overcome with a feeling of perfect peace and the wide open promise of all the possibilities yet to come.

A/N: To all the writers and readers and friends out there who make this fandom such a happy, inspirational and joyful place to be, I say thank you for everything you have given me personally over this past year. Here's to 2014! May it be a good one for all of us and those we hold dear. And as we say in Scotland on Hogmanay 'Lang ma yer lum reek!' (Translation: 'Long may your chimney smoke') It's an old tradition in Scotland to take a piece of coal with you when visiting friends and family on New Year's Eve (one we no longer practice since hardly anyone has a coal fire anymore!). The coal was placed on the fire to keep it burning and to wish the hosts long life and prosperity. So all the very best for 2014, friends, wherever you are. Liv xx