Chapter 12

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(Lack of) communication between Castle and Kate for the next three days consisted of the following:

On Sunday, Kate's full attention was focused on Zoey, who was still feeling miserable and sore. If Zoey napped, Kate distracted herself by blasting her iPod and disinfecting the entire house. That night, she tossed in her bed for an hour, got up to make herself some chamomile tea, then tossed around for another hour only to have to get up to go to the washroom after drinking said tea, followed by a long session of channel surfing before finally drifting off sometime around three.

On Sunday, Castle got up uncharacteristically early and sat himself down in front of the door to wait for Kate to drop Zoey off before realising that Kate didn't work on Sundays. It was still too early to call her on her day off so he googled recipes and made the most complicated dish he could find. By the time it got late enough to call, he chickened out (four times) and justified it by telling himself she would be too worried about Zoey to worry about Their Situation.

On Monday, Kate picked up her phone three times, let her thumb hover over speed dial number two for several minutes, and then hung up. She re-read her single sentence text, letting him know that she wouldn't be going back to work until Zoey felt better, six times before finally hitting send by accident. For the rest of the day, her brain alternated between taking care of Zoey and rehashing every detail of The Kiss. This train of thought inevitably started her on a downward spiral that usually ended up in the vicinity of What Does This Mean?

On Monday, Castle got Kate's text letting him know that she would be staying at home with Zoey until further notice and he was so jumpy that he texted her back with a monosyllabic 'Kay. He realised how unacceptable his answer had been for a writer of his obvious calibre and decided to draw a flow chart detailing all possible scenarios that his imaginative brain could conjure up about where their relationship could end up. Some were within the realm of possibility, i.e. she could threaten to castrate him if he mentioned what had happened when she was too emotionally fraught to control her own actions; while others were not so much, i.e. he would be waiting for her at the precinct and she would show up wearing a trench coat and nothing else, begging him to take her right there on her desk. It took him all day and when he went to sleep that night, his dreams only contained scenes from those exact impossible scenarios.

On Tuesday, Kate tried to reward herself with a bath only to remember that she usually took one of his books to read by flickering and scented candlelight. She attempted to close her eyes and just relax but with nothing to occupy her brain and her hands, they strayed to thoughts of him and what she imagined he could do to her if he were with her at that very moment.

On Tuesday, Castle took four cold showers.

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Kate was watching the morning news on television Wednesday when the report of a murder and the arrest of a suspect caused her to overcook her scrambled eggs. Less than five minutes later, her cellphone rang with the Captain at the other end telling her to get her ass to the precinct immediately.

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Castle's cellphone rang and he almost dropped it when Kate's picture flashed onto the screen.

(Inhale) He hit 'answer'.

(Exhale) "Kate?"

"Castle, I need you—" (Sharp inhale) "—to meet me at the precinct." (Exhale)

"Is something wrong?"

"No. I mean, yes. Well, kind of. There's been a lead on a cold case and the Captain wants me at the station but I can't leave Zoe—"

"—I'll meet you at the precinct."

"There's no rush, Castle."

"Don't worry about it." (Deep inhale) "See you soon." (Exhale)

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"You know she'll totally stick that in her mouth and eat it, right?"

Ryan looked up at Castle's voice and then back down to Zoey. She was sitting on the floor beside his chair, playing with the babushka doll that usually sat on Kate's desk. Ryan frowned, "It's too big."

"Not when she figures out how to open it and get to the smaller ones inside," he replied, watching as Ryan paused to consider that information and then bent down to try to pry the wooden doll out of Zoey's fingers.

As Castle walked towards Kate, he could hear Zoey's loud protests only to be followed by Esposito's bribe of the return of the toy for some candy.

"Those two will make fine parents one day," Castle chuckled as he stopped to stand beside Kate.

Her eyes had been focused on the murder board in front of her but at Castle's comment, she turned her head to see Zoey sitting on Ryan's lap, happily making a mess with a pudding cup. "Well, at least they didn't give her something breakable today," she replied.

"A watch?"

"Oo, close. A cellphone."

"Esposito's?"

Kate grinned. "Lanie's."

"And courtesy of Ryan, she got…"

"…a year's worth of non-existent phone bills."

"Nice."

She looked at him briefly as she turned to face forward again. The slightly relieved expression on both of their faces was due to the realisation that at least one part of their relationship – the part where they exchanged witty repartee and quick banter – didn't seem to have changed, no matter what else had.

Kate took a step back to perch against the desk, hands falling to either side to brace herself on its edge. He followed suit.

"So—" he started, laying his right hand discreetly over hers, "—later?"

The 'let's talk' between those two words didn't need to be vocalized.

She understood them to be there and made a noise of assent. "They want me to interrogate the suspect from this morning. I handled the case the first time around." Her eyes were still directed forward but he felt her fingers rise a fraction of an inch away from the desk to grip his before curling their locked hands back down. "I probably won't be long."

"Take whatever time you need." (He wasn't just referring to the case.)

"It probably won't be as simple as it seems to be right now." (Neither was she.)

He shrugged. "Maybe you'll be surprised."

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As soon as Castle disappeared with Zoey behind the elevator doors, Lanie appeared beside Kate.

"Jeez, Lanie," Kate gasped, "Where the hell did you come from?"

Lanie didn't answer, instead, she waited for Kate to stop fussing with the files on her desk and face her.

The staring finally got to Kate. "What?" she asked.

"Exactly," said Lanie. "What was that?" She made a little back and forth gesture between Kate and the elevator.

Kate opened her mouth, considered lying, then darted her eyes to the ceiling and chewed the side of her lips. She decided to play it safe. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Lanie narrowed her eyes. "I mean, the vibe. What's with the vibe?" Her voice went up an octave. "Don't think I didn't see what happened there."

"What exactly did you see?"

"Was there something I wasn't supposed to see?"

"No," Kate said quickly. "I'm just asking."

"You're asking if I saw something that I wasn't supposed to see even though there was nothing for me to see?"

"…Yes?"

"Did something happen between you and writer boy?"

"Not… really."

"Not really? Not really? What does that even mean?" Lanie's forehead creased in bewilderment. It made Kate remember that time at the paediatrician's where she had had that exact expression on her own face.

"You know," Kate started, "I just figured that out myself. Like, ten seconds ago."

"So…?"

"So, yeah," said Kate triumphantly. "I stick with my answer. Not really."

"Will you tell me what you're talking about eventually?"

"When the answer to that question becomes a firm yes then I will."

Lanie's mouth widened into a shit-eating grin, "Oh Kate, you're so easy." She started to walk away, intending to leave her friend in the same state of confusion that she was in. "I believe they call that a Freudian slip."

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Kate knocked on his door at three in the afternoon. She was technically still on sick leave in order to be with Zoey and the Captain had let her go as soon as the interrogation had been successful.

"You have a key," Castle said, by way of greeting.

"I—" she didn't want to say that she felt weird. She settled for, "—I was confused."

He still understood what she meant. "Not confused about the key itself."

"No."

"Because you've had it for a while now."

"Right."

"But now the meaning might have changed?"

"Maybe."

He considered that. A second later, he asked, "If I had asked for it back two weeks ago, the key, I mean, would you have given it to me?"

"Why would you have wanted it back?"

He shrugged. "Let's just say I changed my mind and wanted you to knock so that I could answer the door myself."

"Okay. Then, yes, I would have given it back."

"What would you have felt?"

"That you were being strange and weird."

"Fair enough."

Kate tilted her head. "If the foreseeable future had been like it was two weeks ago, would you have ever asked for the key back?"

"Maybe. Probably. Under certain circumstances." (In his head, he completed the thought with: If he started to date somebody else. As if getting over her was even within the realm of possibility.)

Kate nodded and said, "If you were no longer looking after Zoey for me, you mean."

"Why wouldn't I be taking care of her anymore?"

Her turn to shrug. "Let's say I found somebody else to help me." (In her head, she continued the sentence with: …like a boyfriend. But nobody could ever compare to you.)

His expression was one of irony. "My answer to your question is the same as your answer to my question."

She nodded. "I know."

"And how would you feel if I asked for the key back today?" he asked.

Her answer was immediate. "Confused."

"Because the meaning might have changed."

"Because the meaning has changed."

"Not yet."

"Oh really?" A faint smile. "And why not?"

"Well, we haven't even come up with a definition yet."

This was it. The Conversation. And they were going to have it with the exit right behind her. She hadn't really considered leaving but she appreciated the choice.

She slipped off her jacket. It was too warm now. (She didn't comment on his eyes following her movements.) "We're not strangers," she started, now toeing off her heels.

"No," he said, kicking her shoes to the side. "I don't typically like strangers to stand too close to me—" he took a step towards her, "—or touch me—" he reached his right hand out to meet hers, slowly intertwining their fingers together.

"No," she said, "We're definitely not strangers."

"So. Are we work colleagues?" he asked.

"I don't think so." This time, she leaned towards him. "Because I normally wouldn't greet my colleagues like this—" she placed her lips gently against his, almost like French people would when meeting each other on the street, and then pulled away casually. She looked him in the eye. "We could be friends," she continued.

With their fingers still entangled, he leisurely took a few steps forward. Reflexively, she took a few steps back until she was pressed against the door. Her breath quickened a fraction of a beat but he sounded calm when he asked, "May I try something?"

A tilt of her head. Then, "Yes."

With a movement both decisive and unhesitating, he closed the distance between their bodies and drew her lips to his. Their mouths parted readily, mutually deciding on a languid pace in that intimate silence. Their tongues met and mingled deliciously, savouring each other's taste. His act of pushing deeper was a question of exploration and her moans became the complimentary answers of pleasure.

He pulled back. "I don't think we're just friends—" his free hand pushed under her shirt until she could feel his thumb sweeping just underneath the edge of her bra, "—do you?"

"Well—" she waited until his hand trailed back down her side to shake her head, "—we're not lovers."

At that, his eyes twinkled. "Not yet."

Her head fell back against the door as he started to place light kisses up her neck. They made her voice breathy. "Am I your girlfriend?" she asked.

He ran his tongue on a spot just underneath her ear, answering against it, "Only if you want to be." The sudden rush of air over that area made her whole body tremble.

Her grip on his right hand tightened and she made sure he saw her faint but tender smile. "Not yet," she echoed.

And that was okay. If it was inevitable then 'not yet' was wonderfully promising.

He ended up resting his forehead against hers and they stood there, with their eyes closed, for a little while, considering.

When he finally moved, her eyes opened to see that he was still musing over something.

Finally, "May I keep kissing you?" he asked.

She chuckled. Castle could never stay serious for long. "What?" she teased, "For now?"

He moved away until only their clasped hands were touching. "No, not for now—" His lips curved in amusement but his gaze was piercing. "—Forever."

A/N: A lot of you guessed the book series from last chapter! (It was The Baby-Sitters Club)! Anyway, I hope I did a good enough job on the 'kiss aftermath conversation' and that at least some of you liked how it turned out! :)

Also, I've got a slight dilemma that requires audience participation.

POLL TIME: I'm some chapters ahead in writing and I don't think/know if I want to turn this into an M-rated story. I know there might be some of you out there who are probably like, 'UST must be resolved with some sexy times!' so, I've decided to leave it up to democracy. Just drop a review or PM me with your preference:

a) I. Need. Smut.

b) Keep it clean, yo.