"We're really doing this," Castle said, mostly to himself, as he turned the Monopoly top hat over and over in his hand.
He was leaning back on Beckett's couch with his arm around her, and she was curled up against him. He had reached forward to pick up the small pewter object a few minutes before, after their lips had finally parted, and he had been lost in a happy daze of thought since.
"We are," she said, tightening her arms around his waist.
"Of course, you realise what this means," he replied. "You realise all the things that this means."
She lifted her head from his chest to look up at him, raising an eyebrow, and he smiled.
"It means… Christmas. New Year. Valentine's Day. Always having a date. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Double-dating! This is huge. This is… like, actually Caskett!"
She laughed at his infectious enthusiasm, nodding her head.
"Then there's… well, there's a lot," he said, trailing off, and she frowned.
"What were you going to say?" she asked, moving a palm to his chest.
He looked down at her, and his face became earnest. He gazed into her eyes for several seconds before speaking.
"I'm not going to let you go," he said quietly, setting the top hat down so he could reach up and stroke her cheek with his forefinger. "This is it for me. I don't want to rush, or scare you. We've got nothing but time. But… this is just… it. For me."
Her pulse quickened, but she wasn't afraid. It was what she wanted too, and she'd known for a long time that it was inevitable.
Fate, she thought.
"For me too," she said. "I think we're meant to be together."
He smiled again, his eyebrows lifting just barely enough to be noticeable.
"I didn't know you believed in that kind of thing."
She shrugged one shoulder. "Didn't used to."
"What changed?" he asked, his tone gentle and curious.
She stretched up and pressed a feather-light, open-mouthed kiss against his lips.
"Met the right guy," she said quietly. "Even if it took me way too long to admit it."
He licked his lips, again running his finger across her cheek and then along her jawline.
"So no more hiding," he replied. "And no turning back."
It wasn't a question, but she shook her head anyway. "No turning back."
He looked into her eyes for another long moment before he glanced off into the middle distance, and his eyes became unfocused.
She watched his face in silence for almost half a minute before shifting her hand to brush her fingertips over his chest.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked.
He inhaled audibly. "Just… I guess, there's so much we've got ahead of us. Stuff we've – I've – been thinking about for years. Now we're here. We get to be us, now. It's a lot to take in."
She nodded, encouraging him to continue, but he was silent for several moments. She watched emotions play across his face. Wonder, disbelief, realisation, excitement, and love. There was also a fleeting look of regret, and she knew he was thinking about the time that had already passed.
"When you suddenly get what you've most wanted, what do you do?" he asked aloud, and she knew he wasn't addressing the question to her specifically. "I've thought about this a million times, but I'm still getting used to it. I still… I don't have any idea what's next for us."
His lips curled into a small expression of wry amusement at himself. He was still staring into space, the hand on her shoulder drawing random patterns against the fabric of her sweater.
That's one question I can answer, she thought, then she lightly tapped her palm against his chest to bring him out of his reverie. He looked down at her, and she smiled at him.
"That's OK," she said, "because I do."
She reached up and clasped his hand in hers, and slowly extricated herself from him, sitting up on the couch beside him and then standing up. She tugged on his hand twice until he stood up too, with a question in his eyes.
She didn't say anything, and instead took a step backwards, pulling him along with her. Then another step, and she turned to lead him across the open area of the apartment towards a closed door.
She reached it, and stopped for a moment to look around at him, putting all of her emotions into her gaze.
Then she reached for the door handle and twisted it, opening the door in front of them.
He looked over her shoulder, and saw the room beyond. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the blinds and cast a bright shape across her neatly-made bed. A robe sat across one arm of a white wooden rocking-chair in a corner, and the night table's drawer was lying open. There was a thick comforter draped along the bottom half of the bed, and a haphazard stack of Autumn-coloured throw pillows leaned against the wall beside a dresser.
His eyes widened, and he felt his pulse race.
"Kate…" he said, unsure what he was going to say, but she cut him off by taking his other hand too.
"No turning back," she said, and her eyes were dark now. "Unless you don't want–"
"I want you," he replied immediately, his voice lower and suddenly rough, but his eyes sparkled with a powerful emotion that she recognised well. "But only when you're ready. I swear."
She felt tears prick the corners of her eyes because she knew it was absolutely true. He would wait years more if she asked him to.
And that's exactly why I don't want to wait anymore.
"You've got me," she whispered.
He searched her eyes for one final moment, saw the truth of it, and then gave in – to her, and to himself.
He swept forward, throwing an arm around her waist and picking her up as his lips crashed against hers, and somehow he even managed to kick the door closed behind them.