I wish I knew how (Your eyes are like starlight now)

To break this spell (I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell)

I ought to say no, no, no sir (Mind if I move a little closer)

At least I'm gonna say that I tried (What's the sense in hurting my pride)

I really can't stay (Baby don't hold out)

Ahh, but it's cold outside

~Frank Loesser, Baby It's Cold Outside

She opened her door.

His grin rivaled the Christmas lights on her tree. Her smile gave the lights of Manhattan a run for their money. She couldn't even speak for what seemed like forever, her thoughts were all jumbled into a mess of words that made no sense. Simply standing in her doorway, Kate let her eyes roam his face – memorizing every line, divot, dimple, and patch of scruff that had become so precious to her. His eyes fixed steady on her face, watching her watch him, giving her the space and time she needed to process the shift in their relationship. He would let her set the pace, just grateful that she had let him grapple to the other side of her wall.

Rick held his breath as Kate's hand rose to toy with the lapels of his coat, her fingers tangling in the weave of his scarf, her lungs hitching visibly in her chest. "There's no mistletoe in this doorway," she murmured. He made note that her voice sounded soft and Christmasy – if there was such an adjective.

"No," he shook his head. "I didn't want you kissing every Tom, Dick, or Harry that stopped by your apartment."

Her grin pursed, and she tilted her head invitingly. "I guess you need to come inside then."

His dimple quirked in the side of his cheek. "Only if you plan on kissing me." He craned his neck a bit to peer at the inner sanctum of her apartment. "There's a lot of mistletoe in there."

A quiet laugh preceded the tug on his scarf, and he willingly let himself be led inside. Neither could seem to tear their eyes away from the other, and Rick surprised himself at having the presence of mind to kick the door shut with his foot. Before he could process the flash in her gaze, he was pivoted around and yanked against her body even as she used her hips to pivot them both toward the kitchen island. He hit the counter with a guttural 'oof', a bar stool goosing him in the rear end before clattering indignantly to the floor.

"Look up," she whispered, a sultry lilt to her voice that made his mouth go instantly dry.

He obeyed (how could he not?) and smiled at the mistletoe he saw hanging above him, then jumped with a start as her lips glided across his throat. Blood left his head for destinations further south and he stuttered a response to her take-charge actions. "Uh… K-kate?"

"Hmmm?" She grabbed the edges of his scarf and walked backwards, pulling him along with her to where the next sprig of mistletoe hung from the ceiling.

"We…" A near-whimper gurgled in the back of his throat as her breasts brushed against his chest, her lips and teeth and tongue branding his earlobe for her own use. He whispered a curse word as his head fell back to rest against the wall in surrender. His grand gesture of mistletoe-ing Kate's apartment was very quickly backfiring on him.

"You know what?" he muttered through gritted teeth when she looked up at him in mild concern. "Never mind."

Gripping her gently by the upper arms, he invaded her personal space and walked her down the hallway – a kiss to her ear under one sprig of mistletoe, a light nip of his teeth along her jaw line under the next one, a swipe of his tongue across her bottom lip at the one after that. Each kiss gave them a taste of what they were seeking, each taste building the anticipation to the boiling point, and both were breathing raggedly by the time they reached her bedroom door.

"Kate –" he moaned in regret when she began to unbutton his shirt (his coat and scarf were discarded in a pile somewhere in the hallway), his chivalry warring with his hormones for domination. "Not tonight," he finally breathed. "Not yet."

She sagged against the door, her body humming with need but her mind knowing she would be grateful in the morning for his wisdom tonight. Nodding, she raked her fingers through her hair before sliding her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest.

"Castle…" she mumbled against his shirt. "Why did you start a mistletoe garden in my apartment for 'not tonight'?"

"I don't know," he groaned. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

He laughed with her, their mingled chuckles shaking his upper body, before he went on, "Actually, it was only meant as a joke. I did all of this before the whole mistletoe-headband incident of this afternoon. Had I known this morning what I know now – namely that you would willingly let me kiss you – I would not have tortured myself with all of this … opportunity."

Kate eased out of the embrace and gave him a rueful smile. "Come on," she invited, cocking her head toward the living room. "Let's go look at the tree."

Following her to the couch, Rick sat next to her and closed his eyes against a rush of emotion when she snuggled into his side. He had dreamed of this moment – of the mistletoe moments – of this whole week of moments – so many times over the past year. Now that it was reality, he…. Wait a minute. Something had been nagging at him ever since Beulah's conversation with Kate in the doctor's office that morning. Suddenly, he realized what it was.

"Kate?"

"Yeah?"

"You weren't surprised."

"What?" She shifted in his arms so she could stare at him in confusion, the light of the tree dancing across her face and nearly distracting him from the question pressing against his mind.

"When Joshua's grandmother talked about giving thanks for the man who loves you … you weren't surprised." He sat up straighter as another thought occurred to him. "You said I'd waited long enough." Kate froze, her gaze reflecting a deep sadness that cut him to the quick. Lifting his fingers to her face, he brushed the tips along her cheek and followed her jaw line with a gentle touch that brought tears to her eyes. "You remembered, didn't you?"

Hesitating a fraction of a lifetime, Kate finally nodded. "How long?" he whispered around the thickness in his throat.

"Always," she choked out, scooting forward to let her hand fall lightly to his chest when he started to pull away. "I was scared, Castle. Of everything. I didn't want to remember. I'm sorry, Rick. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm so, so sorry."

He held her gaze, blue eyes searching green ones for honesty and finding it. Nodding slowly, he gathered her into a tender embrace and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I forgive you," he murmured into her hair, absorbing the grateful shudder that rippled through her smaller frame. "You were protecting both of us … I get it."

She sat up, staying in the circle of his arms, and let him see the tear stains on her cheeks, the moisture still lingering on her lashes. "Castle…Rick… I don't deserve your lo… your forgiveness."

He dried the dampness with his sleeve and smiled adoringly at her. "And yet you get both," he acknowledged both the word she omitted and the word she allowed.

"Why?" The word forced itself from her lips, her eyes luminous with the need to see into his reasoning.

Rick was quiet for a moment, his mind searching for the right words to explain something that was, if truth be told, unexplainable. His fingers toyed with the hair that cascaded around her shoulders. "Because … I would want the same from you."

Biting her lip in uncertainty, she considered his words and his heart and his touch. Her hand covered his heart and she smiled at the steady beat beneath her palm. "You have it," she whispered at last. "The same from me."

He couldn't breathe – all involuntary bodily function ceased with her soft words. The word 'love' hadn't been formed by her lips (lips that were increasingly distracting him again, by the way), but it gleamed in her eyes and it pulsed through her touch. He would take it. It was enough for now – it gave him hope that 'for now' would not be as long as he'd originally thought. Covering her hand with his, he smiled, his eyes crinkling with the freedom that comes when the weight of the world is removed from your shoulders.

"There's no mistletoe hanging here," he noted with a glance skyward then back to Kate. "But could I get away with a kiss in spite of my poor lack of planning?"

She grinned, and his heart lurched in response. "You could get away with a lot more than a kiss if you weren't so chivalrous."

Groaning, he dipped his head to graze the tip of her nose with a light kiss. "Don't tell me that," he chastised.

Shifting her legs, Kate rose on her knees against the cushions and planted her hands on his shoulders, pushing him slightly against the arm of the couch. Her hair tumbled around his face, accelerating his need for her and tempting him with whatever that holiday scent was. He needed to find out … What he needed to find out had escaped him already, however. Kate was leaning over him, her lips hovering millimeters from his, her weight just brushing against his frame.

"Merry Christmas, Castle," she murmured with a knowing smirk, keeping her body just out of reach as she lowered her head to capture his mouth in a slow, seductive kiss.

He was trembling by the time she eased away, and he followed her, pinning her beneath him and tangling his hands in her hair. Angling her head to the perfect angle, he touched his mouth to hers once – twice – with a tenderness that made her whole body ache with longing. He chuckled at her whimpered plea and relented, settling into the kiss that she demanded even as his weight settled lightly over hers – tempered by a gentle restraint but quivering with a deepening hunger. Kiss after kiss after delicious kiss, he took them to the brink before easing them back to a soothing rhythm.

"Kate," he moaned softly into her mouth, her tongue stealing the word – and his coherence.

"I know," she echoed his protest even as her body arched beneath his. Her hands were well and truly driving him insane. Pressing into her for one glorious moment, he let her feel what she was doing to him and swallowed the breathy groan that caught in her throat. Rick rested his forehead against hers and struggled to tame the ragged heaving of his lungs before lifting himself to a sitting position with one last (apologetic) kiss.

"I need to go," he stated needlessly, raking his hand through his hair, merely succeeding in mussing it further. "I don't want to go."

She smiled in spite of the charged haze that encircled her and reached out to wrangle the tousled locks back into some semblance of order. "If it helps, I don't want you to go either."

He returned her grin and sighed, raising her fingers to his lips. "It doesn't help," he chided. "But it does."

Helping her to her feet, he led them both toward the door and stole another kiss before slipping into the hallway outside her apartment. He lingered, seeming to debate whether or not to say what he wanted to say. After a bit, he leaned close and uttered hoarsely, "I love you, Kate."

He was gone before she could respond, but her heart swelled until she thought it might burst and kill her on the spot. "I love you, too," she whispered into the empty space that stared back at her.

One day – soon – she would have the courage to say it to his face.