Disclaimer: The only part of Castle that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

It's late October, and they've been a couple for two and a half months. They're eating better–she more, he less–and their life has developed a structure of sorts. He spends one or two nights a week at her place and she spends two or three at his.

"I don't know why we can't be together every night," he'd complained one rainy Sunday afternoon when they were half watching a movie on television but mostly making out.

"You have a daughter, Castle."

"I do, but she goes to bed at ten on school nights."

"So do I."

"Yes, but there's no need for you to go to bed alone. I can keep you warm. Although strictly speaking that's not possible, since you're so hot."

Alexis, Martha, Jim, and Lanie are the only people who know about them, and keeping their relationship secret is increasingly tricky. They've lost count of how many times they've almost been caught exchanging looks or worse, touches. At crime scenes, in the interrogation room, the bullpen, the break room, the stairwell, the car, a coffee shop, at least three alleys, game five of the American League Championship Series at Yankee Stadium when she'd caught a foul ball and was briefly visible on TV, a borscht place in Brighton, and sitting side-by-cozy-side on the molded plastic seats of the subway. The closest call was on The Tickler, a roller coaster at Coney Island. Castle insisted on tickling her throughout the ride ("The name practically demands that someone be tickled, Beckett. I'm the tickler, you're the tickle-ee"). She was still laughing when they stepped out of it, which was also when they spied Ryan and Jenny about fifteen feet away, buying cotton candy. A quick turn and their baseball caps were all that saved them from recognition.

Until today. If it had to happen–and it was inevitable–maybe it's best that it had been this way, quietly, but on the job, on the toughest kind of case. They'd been working on the 3XK killings for days, and everyone had been, still was, strung tight. Jerry Tyson had escaped, after knocking out Ryan and tying up him Castle in a grungy motel room. She and Esposito had raced there, fearing the worst, but when she'd kicked in the door she'd found the two men alive. Ryan had been taken to the hospital to be checked out, but she and Castle had sat in the dark outside, by the motel pool. He'd been beating himself up, taking the blame for the Triple Killer's escape. There was no way she could dissuade him; that would take time. She'd brought him a cup of coffee and quietly asked, "Why did he let you live?"

"To punish me. Make me pay for ruining his plan. Now he's gonna kill again all because I couldn't stop him. And I feel so"–

She'd put her hand on his knee then. "I know the feeling."

"I know you do," he'd said, and taken her hand in his.

He'd been shivering, so she'd pulled him against her and kissed him lightly on the lips. That was how they'd been caught red-handed–more like white-knuckled–by Esposito, who'd come over to tell them that Ryan was fine.

"Sorry," he'd said, and started to walk away.

She'd jumped up to go after him. "Espo." He'd been fast, but she'd been faster, and touched him on the shoulder. "Javi, wait. Please." And then she'd told him. Not at great length, but with enough details to ensure that he understood. He'd kept his eyes on her while she talked, occasionally glancing over her shoulder at Castle, who hadn't moved. "The only other person who knows, besides our immediate families, is Lanie."

"Chica never said a word to me."

"I knew she wouldn't."

He'd taken a long look at the ground before he'd returned to her. "You seem happy, Beckett, happier than I've ever seen you. I knew there must be a reason. It's good." He smiles and swipes his hand down his face; he's exhausted.

"You tell Jenny about Ryan?"

"Nope. Gonna call her now."

"Okay. Go home, Espo. There's nothing else to do here."

Her friend had craned his neck to glance at Castle one more time. "He okay?"

"No, but he will be. Got a bad case of the guilts."

"Not his fault."

"I know. And so will he, eventually. I hope."

She and Castle had driven to the loft, and she'd told him about Espo. "He won't say anything."

"Not even to Ryan?"

"Especially not to Ryan."

At home, they'd assured Martha that they were fine, and kept the details from Alexis. Then he'd asked her to stay over; she'd have done it even if he hadn't.

It's late, and they've both been sleeping fitfully. She knows he's awake, feels his body tense against hers, so she rolls on her side until she's pressed against his. "It's funny, isn't it?"

"Nothing funny about today," he says, his eyes aimed at the ceiling.

"Castle, look at me."

He turns his head to her, but doesn't say anything. Just stares.

She gives him a minute before she resumes. "It's funny about Alexis's secret admirer being Ashley. Her boyfriend."

"It's nice."

"It's funny because I'm your secret admirer, and you're mine, in a way. Right?"

He blinks slowly, shows a trace of a smile. "Yeah."

"There's something else that's a secret, but I want to tell you. I should have told you a while ago, but I couldn't."

She can see the alarm in his eyes, even in the dark. "What?"

"I love you. I'm in love with you. I've never said that to anyone, ever. In my life. I'm almost thirty-one years old, and this is the first time I've said it. I love you, Castle. I'm in love with you. I'll never say it to anyone again. Except to you. I'll say it a lot to you."

He hugs her so hard she can hardly breathe. "You know what, Kate? You know what you just did?"

"No."

"You just turned one of the worst days of my life into the best. I love you, Kate. I'm in love with you, and I'll never say it to anyone again. Except to you. I'll say it a lot to you."

He kisses her even harder than he'd hugged her. When he stops, he tugs at the hem of her tank top. "I'm gonna take this off you now."

"Good," she whispers, tugging on his tee shirt, "because I'm gonna take this off you."

"You ready?"

"God, yes."

"This is going to be even better than the first time."

"I know."

It was. It happened four weeks ago, but she's replayed that night in her mind over and over. It's not just the sex, though she'll never forget that; if she she thinks about it in public, she still has to squeeze her legs together. It's not even the far more important thing, which was that she'd finally been able to tell him what he'd deserved to hear long before then: that she loved him. Loves him. Was and is in love with him. No, something else about it has been weighing on her more and more: Why is this a secret? Why should it be? Why can't they be open? Why can't they walk hand in hand down a sidewalk without worrying that someone will notice? Why can't she put her head on his shoulder while they wait in line for coffee? Why can't they go out for a beer after a case and not have to sit on opposite sides of the table and not play footsy, either?

Last Friday she'd quietly and privately consulted an attorney—not her father, but an old associate of her mother's with whom she's kept in touch. She'd met her for coffee late this afternoon, on her way home from work, and gotten the glorious news. The NYPD has regulations about members of the department dating, but Castle is in no way an employee of the city. There can be absolutely no sanctions if they're seeing each other, and there is nothing to prevent them from being aboveboard about their relationship.

"Thank you, Rebecca," she'd said to her mother's friend. "This means everything to me. Everything." She'd opened her bag and taken out her checkbook and a pen. "I don't want to wait for a bill. I want to do this right now. What do I owe you? I know you're a partner in the firm, probably bill at least a thousand an hour. Whatever it is, it's worth every penny."

"Put that away, Kate," Rebecca had said sternly, tapping her on the back of the wrist. "There's no way on God's earth that I'm taking money from you."

"You have to let me pay you. I asked you for your help. Please."

"No. You want to know what's worth every penny to me? Seeing you this happy. Your mother–can you imagine what she'd have said?" She'd pointed straight up with her spoon. "And can't you hear her clapping her hands? That you and her favorite writer are in love?"

That had made her smile, almost made her clap her hands, too. "Will you at least let me pay for your coffee?"

"Okay. And one more thing."

"What?"

"Send me an invitation to your wedding."

Before a flustered Kate had been able to muster a word, Rebecca had stood up, kissed her on her blushing cheek, and left. At the door she'd turned back, waved, and said, "Happy Thanksgiving."

"You, too. Thank you."

Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and they're having it in the Hamptons; she'd cashed in a vacation day to do it and Castle had given a pair of seats to the Giants game to Esposito, who's covering for her. ("My ticket broker would probably be on the top of my phone list if you weren't already in the number-one spot," he'd told her.) The two of them, plus Martha and Alexis, had driven out this evening; her father's coming on the train in the morning.

She and Castle are on the way up to bed when she says, "Oh, no. I forgot the popcorn."

"Popcorn? Now?"

"Yes," she says over her shoulder as she runs down the stairs.

Of course he follows her. "Beckett? You know I'm a great believer in midnight snacks, but we're having a huge meal tomorrow and as you also know, my waistline is almost back to normal and I don't want to be tempted by your buttery delights."

"You talking about me or the popcorn?"

"The popcorn. Your buttery delights have no calories, and even if they did they're a temptation I could never resist."

"Good answer. Except this popcorn has no butter," she says, holding up a large plastic bag. "I made it at the precinct yesterday."

"You're going to eat two-day-old popcorn? No. I'll make you a nice batch. It'll be ready in two minutes."

"It's for the birds, Castle."

"No kidding. I wouldn't eat two-day old popcorn if I were starving in the desert." He puts a bag in the microwave, and presses start.

"I mean for the birds. As in our feathered friends. When I was growing up we always went to the cabin for Thanksgiving, and my cousin Darcie and I made an enormous chain of popcorn and cranberries for the birds. We hung it on the evergreen tree by the back door. You can't use fresh popcorn because it breaks too easily when you're threading it. I have to do it tonight because we'll be too busy cooking tomorrow to do it. You want to join me?"

"I always want to join you, Kate," he says, giving her his best leer. "Is this why you asked me to get an extra bag of cranberries?"

"Yup. And here"–she gets a little packet from her purse–"are the big needles and the heavy-duty thread."

Fifteen minutes later they've made considerable headway, but she can tell that he's getting bored.

"You know, Castle, when Darcie and I did this in the kitchen, my mom said that for every five berries and popped kernels that we put on the string we had to say something that we were thankful for. It always started out fine but it went downhill fast."

"Like what?" he asks, threading a berry.

"Like, 'I'm thankful for not having any homework this week'."

"That's not bad."

"Or, 'I'm thankful that Jason Miller is in a different classroom this year because he totally smells'. In my defense, I was ten."

"You totally smell, too, Kate Beckett, but you totally smell fantastic."

"Mmm. I have something extra special to be thankful for this year. Want to know what it is?"

He puts the needle on the counter. "Was kind of hoping you'd say it was me."

"It is. But this is something else." She scoots closer to him and buries her face in his hair. "May I say that you totally smell fantastic too, Rick Castle."

"That's it? That I smell good?"

"Nope. Even better. I hired a lawyer. Well, tried to hire her, did hire her, but she wouldn't let me pay her."

"Whoa, definitely something to be thankful for. Not to mention stunned and amazed." He's a little too hearty; she can feel the edge of concern underneath.

"Friend of my mom's from her firm. Long story short, I met with her today and you and I don't have to hide our relationship anymore. You are in no way an employee of the NYPD. She took apart the regs and put them back together. We can tell everyone."

He lifts her off the stool, kisses her, and swings her around the room. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Does this mean I get to ravish you at the precinct?"

"Not quite," she says and kisses him in return. "C'mon. Let's finish."

"I wish I'd known about this when Alexis was little. She'd have loved it."

"It's okay," she says, running a hand down his arm. "We can do it when we have ki"—. She stops short and abruptly stands up. "All done. We can hang it up in the morning."

His heart is singing, and he's dying to finish her sentence: "We can do it when we have kids." He knows better, and it's enough that he knows that she's thinking it, even if she's not ready to say it out loud. He gets up, too, and puts the leftover cranberries in the fridge. "Hey," he asks, as she heads for the door. "What am I going to do with this nice fresh bowl of popcorn that I just made?"

"That? Oh, bring it to bed. I've got all kinds of ideas for that." She's walking backwards, crooking her finger.

"You do?"

"Definitely. Ravishing ideas."

TBC

A/N I hope that all of you in the areas affected by hurricanes or wildfires are safe. One chapter to go.