Rick Castle wakes on a dream of lips, a dream of a dream, his eyes opening slowly. The room is dimly lit by the bedside lamp but he's alone. A book on his left, a book on his right, but no Kate.
He hears a clatter of pans in the kitchen and his stomach clenches before he realizes that something smells amazing. Like breakfast. He slips his phone out of his pocket and checks the time. Still night. Late, late at night, but it's not breakfast yet.
Rick gets up, rubbing at his face, and pulls Kate's book towards him, running a thumb along the post-it notes sticking out. He smiles and shakes his head, brings the book with him as he heads into her kitchen.
Kate turns when she sees him, gives him a pleased look. "Hey there. Sorry I woke you." She's pulling plates out of the cabinet.
He squints at the amusement flirting with her eyes. "Really? I think you totally meant to wake me."
She presses her lips together to contain a smile, but it gets away from her. Her hair is soft around her face; she glows like the moon, warm milk before bed. "I realized I was starving. You hungry? I made a huge omelette out of stuff I found in the fridge. Which actually doesn't sound that appealing, but I've heard you enjoy strange omelettes."
His lips quirk. "You've heard? Hmm."
"Want some?" she says, holding up the pan as it hovers over a plate, the spatula in her hand.
"Yeah. I could eat."
"Good," she says, nodding to herself. She looks like she has a plan, like things are going according to that plan too.
She dishes out their late night breakfast and grabs both plates, then jerks her head towards the table, ushering him ahead of her. She won't let him grab his plate, and when he turns to the table, he sees two glasses of juice laid out already.
Yeah. She has a plan, all right.
"Sit," she says. He feels like he should pull her chair out for her, but she hangs back until he gives in and sits down. Kate puts one plate at her place, one at his, and then brushes her hand over his shoulder.
This is a lot of touching for Kate.
She sits just to his right at the table and watches him. "I finished your book."
Oh. So. . .the touch, the breakfast, is what? Niceness? Gratitude for a good read? He can't figure her out. Doesn't keep him from shamelessly fishing for compliments though. "Was it any good?"
Her lips quirk again and she lifts an eyebrow. "You know it was good."
He shrugs, takes another bite. "*This* is good. What's in here?"
She shrugs too. "You know. Stuff. Turkey sausage, cheese, eggs, corn-"
"Corn?" He studies the omelette with interest.
"Castle."
He lifts his eyes.
"I *love* the book."
She holds his gaze and the tight knot in his chest begins to loosen; his shoulders relax and he gives her a smile. "Thanks."
"You say a lot in that book."
Some of his tension returns, but her face is neutral and gives him no idea where this conversation is heading. "It's easier to say it in writing."
She nods. "Unfortunately. . .I'm not so great at saying it in writing, either."
He swallows his last bite and quirks his lips at her. "I've noticed the former. But your police reports are totally respectable."
She shoots him a look, a raised eyebrow, puts her fork down. "Well. Thanks?"
He laughs. "Of course, police reports are strong on exposition and not very good at in-depth characterizations."
Kate gives him that half-hidden smile. "Is that a fancy way of saying I'm a good story-teller, but my characters are flat?"
"Your characters have plenty of. . .lift," he murmurs, lifting an eyebrow in challenge.
She tries to hide the grin behind a narrowing of her eyes and another bite of omelette; Castle smiles back at her. If this is her plan, to flirt with him over breakfast, he can do that.
"Of course, if I thought I could get away with writing it instead of saying it, I'd do that," she says suddenly, causing him to almost choke on his food. He glances up at her, stares at the intense expression on her face.
"Are you saying I cheated?"
She tilts her head. "I'm saying you stole my line."
Stole her line? "What?"
"Castle. You stole my line. Isn't that plagiarism?"
He has no idea what-
"Making sense of songs?"
Oh.
"It was a good line." He knows there's something going on here, more to this than banter over a book. But what? "And I think I reworded it enough to get a free pass for that one."
She nods thoughtfully at him. "So. You get to. . .say it without saying it, bury it at the end of a book. You still want a free pass?"
His heart stops.
She's waiting on him to say something? To that? He can't defend himself for that. He doesn't want to. But he also isn't about to pour out his heart to this woman again.
"You said you had a wall, Kate. I'm trying to respect that."
She looks. . .disappointed. And relieved. The very fact that he can see that, all in her eyes, in the lowering of her shoulders, tells him she was battle-ready. But he's avoiding the skirmish.
"I'm not. . .the person I want to be." She's got her fists clenched next to her plate, and suddenly her eyes are on his, intense and focused. Determined. "For you, Castle."
For. . .him.
The relief that floods him is so strong, it knocks him off his feet. "I'm good with you now. As you are." He doesn't want to sound too eager, too desperate. He is a little desperate, but he also knows that he wants her for good. And pushing won't get him for good with her.
Her lips part on that secret smile, she shakes her head. "In spite of everything. Still. This deserves better. From me."
"This?" And he curses his reckless mouth for it.
"Us." She smiles back at him, shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know what we are either, but it's - it's there."
Rick laughs and shakes his head, leaning back in the chair, feeling battered, breathless, like a wave is pummeling him, dragging him out to sea. He keeps trying to swim against the current. And she still hasn't even really said anything. Not one way or the other.
Kate leans forward. "I owe you an apology."
Oh God, please don't. "Don't be sorry." Not for this. He can't survive if she's sorry for this-
"I didn't think about anyone else but myself this summer. I needed that time, but I didn't think what it was doing. To you."
His lips quirk into a resigned smile. "I know." She explained this already. And he gets it, gets her, even if he doesn't understand.
"But I should have. . .found a way. I'm sorry."
He watches the darkness in her eyes, its movement and depth. She holds his gaze, doesn't break.
After a long moment, he nods at her. He's not sure how to accept an apology from Kate Beckett, but that seems to work.
"I know I'm asking a lot of you," she starts.
He shakes his head. "It's not. I'm fine, Kate."
"This is. . .more than I ever ask of anyone. Have ever. . .I shouldn't. But I'm asking you to wait. I'm - I'm asking you to wait for me, Castle."
His hands tremble against the table; he puts them in his lap, stares at her. She is. . .asking him for a promise.
He breathes in around the feel of his floundering heart. "I'm already waiting, Kate."
She lifts her chin, swallows. "I know. I. . .but will you be okay?"
Damn. He lowers his eyes to the plate before him, the breakfast she made, the plan she had in place. Is this the plan? Draw his terrible secrets from him one by one?
"I don't know," he says honestly. "How long are we talking here?" He tries to laugh with it, tries to quirk a smile.
But her eyes are wounded, and he wishes he could lie. Say he's fine, no problem. Go on without me.
"I don't know," she says finally, picking at the edge of the table. "I don't even know where to start."
He wants to touch her. The need is so intense that his fingers twitch on his thighs. If he just could touch her. . .if he could make her see. . .but he knows that's not how to reach Kate Beckett. Never has been.
She takes a quick breath. "But-"
But?
"Tell me. . .how to help."
He frowns at her, confused. She gives away so little-
"How to help make it. . .okay."
Castle laughs and scrubs a hand down his face. He's got plenty of answers for that. They all include doing things she'd be completely unwilling to do, and-
And he's not going to ask.
"Don't laugh. I'm serious."
He lifts his eyes to her, and she is serious. "Yeah. Um. . .Kate. There's not. . .a way to help. I think it would just make it worse."
She lowers her head, and yeah, he does feel bad for that, but it's the truth. And she seems to want the truth from him tonight.
"Look, Kate. You want me to wait for you? I'm already doing that. You don't need to ask. And if I get a little miserable with it, that's my problem, okay? Let me deal with it."
She shakes her head and when she lifts her eyes to his, he sees the lines, the shimmer. It hurts her to know this. Well. He can't do much about that.
"I don't want you to be miserable over me," she says finally. "It shouldn't be miserable."
"Sometimes these things just are." He shrugs again and runs his hand through his hair. And then his mouth runs away with him again. "I mean, you've drawn a pretty clear line here. I want to bulldoze right through that line, but I can't. I won't."
"What. . .what's the line?" she says.
He laughs again, and he knows he sounds strangled. He feels strangled. "You're killing me."
"I'm. . .not able to say the things I should say. The things I want to be able to say. The things you've already said." Kate has her hand wrapped around her fork like she's afraid she'll fly into pieces without an anchor. He tries to concentrate on her meaning, not just the words. "Do you. . .know what I mean?"
The things he's already said. "In the book? You mean things I've said in the book."
She gives a little half-shrug, shaking her head at the same time. "And. . .before. When. When I was shot."
When she was shot. The time she doesn't remember? Right.
He closes his eyes, bows his head to his hands.
"Castle?"
So there it is. Between them.
She clears her throat. "You can say it. I just. . .can't say it. Not yet."
He jerks his head up. "Not yet?"
He can practically see her struggling with herself, struggling not to run, to change the subject, to roll her eyes. It will be a struggle. Won't it? It will always be a struggle for her.
But. . .damn. 'Not yet' is the closest he's ever. . .he never expected this. Castle gives her a slow smile, easing her into his relief, his. . .blissful relief. "I'll take 'not yet'."
She looks hunted, but that's okay. She said it. She said. . .she basically just said she feels it and can't say it. Which is so totally fine with him.
"So. That line?" he asks, lifting his eyebrows. "Looks like you kinda ran right over it yourself."
She swallows, chews on her bottom lip as she studies him. "I guess. . .so."
"Kate?"
"Yeah?"
"Just a friendly warning."
She blinks. "Yeah?"
"I'm gonna have to kiss you now."