A/N: Man, you people are amazing. I've been completely shocked all weekend from the response this fic has received. If you keep that up, I may be forced to write forever. By the way, these characters do not do anything you want them to do at any pace you want them to do it at. Just sayin'. There will be at least one more chapter after this one. Don't expect it quite as quickly, though-I was off this weekend with not much to do (housework be damned). On with the fic.

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Shucks.

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"I. Am. Stuffed." Castle rubs his stomach as they step out onto the damp sidewalk. It must have rained while they were in the restaurant. He has his jacket draped over his arm, but even with the rain, the unseasonably warm temperatures make the extra layer unnecessary. "So, Old Haunt for your wine?"

"Oh, Old Haunt? Yeah, yeah we can go there." Kate pauses and begins to change direction, deciding to slide her coat on as she moves.

She doesn't really seem like she's trying to shirk him, but something in her voice sounds like she's disappointed. "Um, we don't have to. I just thought you said—"

"I was thinking more along the lines of your private collection. The good stuff. Your loft." She smiles, but backtracks at his dazed look. "Sorry, presumptuous of me. Old Haunt would be great. They're both walking distance from here. Nice night. Well, temperature-wise at least. Looks like it might rain again. Hard to see the clouds in the dark, though. I think we'll make it if we-"

"Hey." Castle stops her ramblings with a grip to her wrist. "My place—my loft—is fine. Better, even. Mother still has a smorgasbord of left-over desserts laid out on my kitchen counter that she supplied for her acting class last night. Apparently fattening desserts and a group of self-conscious young wannabes didn't go over too well. More for us, I say."

"I thought you were stuffed?" She jokes as she falls rhythmically into step beside him. His hand is still on her, loosened from her wrist now, but still there, lingering on the cuff of her sleeve, backs of his curled fingers slipping inside to brush her pulse as they walk.

"Well, I figure sometime between you plying me with wine and trying to ravage me, I'll be up for cheesecake."

"Dream on." Kate takes advantage of her mock offense and clenches his hand, lacing their fingers together and bending his backwards in what would normally be construed as a punishing grip if her hold hadn't been so light.

"Don't mind if I do." He squeezes her fingers once in return and wiggles his own a little until their hands separate.

Kate looks down at her empty hand, then over to him. He looks happy and carefree, not evasive or dismissive at all. His words are flirty, but that's as far as he's taking it. His control is slowly shocking her system. Sixteen months, she reminds herself. Oh my God, this self-control might be the death of her. They've had three years of foreplay and she is itching for more. This feeling of freedom—freedom of finally knowing exactly what you want and thinking it's getting close to happening—is a glorious thing. She wonders if he ever felt that sense of freedom in regards to his feelings for her, only to have her dismiss him and keep him wondering. The irony isn't lost on her…this same restraint of his that she's damning right this second is only in place because she's demanded it since day one.

"What's wrong?" She looks up at Castle's query and the lightness in his eyes has darkened in concern. "You're quiet," he explains his own question when he reads the one on her face.

"Nothing." She can see he doesn't believe her. "Really. I'm good. Very good. Dangerously close to a carbohydrate coma." He smiles at that. "But, I'm having a nice time."

"Well, I'm glad. I'm sorry we didn't get to talk much at dinner. I had no clue Italian restaurants did late-night karaoke." Loud karaoke. The place was packed with people stuffing their faces with spaghetti and filling their bloodstreams with cheap wine, probably in order to drop their inhibitions enough to either join the bad singing or be able to tolerate it. It wasn't pretty. The saving graces of the place were appetizing food (lasagna for him and eggplant parm for her) and being forced to eat at the bar due to the crowed house. The loud atmosphere required them to move in really close to speak or listen to each other, but unfortunately for him those instances were few and far between. Castle's glad he had the offer of wine elsewhere to fall back on. She had probably thought this had been a pretty lousy date otherwise. Date? It felt kind of like a date. A man and a woman eating dinner out, walking close, sharing good conversation, going to his home for a nightcap…could he hope for a kiss? He wouldn't push. But if the moment was there and she seemed willing… Maybe. Don't press your luck, stud. Okay, so no kiss then. Perhaps a promise of another date?

"Don't be sorry. It was amusing to watch. And the food was wonderful. I still can't believe Ryan stole our dinner, though. He's totally buying next time."

"Good luck with that. What I can't believe is how Lanie and Esposito totally snuck out on us. Well, they weren't really that sneaky. Wonder what they're doing right now?" He bumps her shoulder playfully and, when she meet his eyes, elevates and drops his brows suggestively.

"Ew, Castle. I don't want to picture that."

"True, true. They're so doing it, though. Good for them, I say."

"Yes, they've wasted too much time. They're both totally stubborn. I'm sure Lanie will text me too many details about it tomorrow." She shudders a bit because Lanie really doesn't hold back much. She knows things about Esposito that she doesn't need to know. Impressive things, true, but he is like her brother and just…no.

"So, you and Lanie talk about that kind of stuff?"

"What kind of stuff?" She throws a teasingly innocent look his way.

"Men. Relationship stuff." He lowers his voice as if embarrassed by the question. "Sex?"

"We do, yeah. Some. Not a lot to talk about lately. Our talks mostly consist of Lanie telling me that I need to have fun. Then we argue about how she's being an idiot with the Esposito thing. Then she tells me I'm being an idiot about—well, things," her mouth finds her filter before she spills too much. Talk about awkward. Yeah, Castle, when I give Lanie 'Esposito advice', she gives me 'you advice' and that's why I avoid too much alone time with my friend nowadays. But I might be getting my shit together, so maybe that'll change, okay?

"Why does she think you're being an idiot?"

Okay, so, the filter didn't work. Peachy.

"Lanie thinks I need to find someone. Go out. Have fun. Do…things." Not really a lie. Though they were always a little more specific on whom the 'someone' was.

"Well, not great advice. You shouldn't force it. Just—you know who you are, Kate. Listen to yourself, not someone else." He slows his pace a little as they round the corner, only a half a block away from his loft. He likes this open communication thing they have going here. It's nice.

"So, I shouldn't listen to you, then?"

"Not what I meant. Don't listen to Lanie." His smile is wide. "But don't tell her I said that!"

"Lanie didn't like Josh and I didn't take her advice there, so she hasn't let me live that down." Why the hell is she bringing up Josh? Filter, Beckett.

"Nevermind. Listen to Lanie." He curls his thumb and pointer finger around in the 'ok' gesture and clicks his tongue. "Great advice giver. Best I know. You can tell her I said that part."

Kate chokes a little on her laugh. Josh crisis averted. She knows eventually she'll have to talk to Castle about Josh, the reasons they were together, the reasons why they now weren't. She's not sure whether she'll leave in the part where during the pinnacle of their breakup mid-summer, he cleared the Richard Castle section off the bookshelf-of her old bedroom in her dad's cabin-by swiping the books to the floor and accusing her of acting on many of the same things that she'd been fantasizing about lately. And that her dad heard the commotion and his angry-father glower was enough to influence Josh to leave quietly. Her dad never told her what, if anything, he said to Josh as he ushered him out of her room, out the front door, and out of her life. He also never voiced anything aloud (his eyes said enough) as he came back up the stairs and carefully placed Rick's books back upon the shelf. "Yes, you and Lanie would gossip together swimmingly well. She's certainly a fan of yours."

"Lanie reads my stuff? Sweet."

"Oh, no. Well, she might. I don't know." She read page 105. "I meant, of you, as a person."

"You guys talk about me? What about?" She expected a leer, but instead he looks truly curious, soft around the edges, putting a lot of stock in hearing that someone she trusts and seeks counsel from is fond of him.

"Mainly how annoying you are." His faux pout induces a giggle from her. "How you rarely listen to anything I say. How I'd like to cuff you to a chair at some point during most cases. The usual."

"Hmm. I always pictured bed, but I could probably make a chair work. Are we talking precinct chairs? We'll have to use yours—it's bouncier. But the breakroom chairs don't have armrests—that might be bett-"

"Castle!" She was blushing again. Damn him and his composure. How did discussing the logistics of chair sex not affect him when she had been feeling the heavy rumblings of arousal low in her belly all night?

"Right, sorry." Not really. Embarrassment looks lovely on you, Detective Beckett. "Just promise me that you'll never ever discuss the fact that Lanie tried to supply me with Viagra?"

"I will make no such promise."

"Beck-ett," he whines, grasping the belt on the back of her coat and tugging her back towards him before she can reach for the door of his building. "That's putting my masculinity in peril."

She spins to face him and has a witty retort on her tongue about how he screams like a girl and his manliness may have been in jeopardy long ago, but it dies before it leaves her lips. Because her palms have found themselves flat against his chest. Big, broad, solid, masculine chest. Maybe this was a bad idea. Her mind has taken up permanent residence in the gutter and she is having a hard time envisioning herself clawing her way out. The only claws she can picture at the moment are her own, gripping the sinewy skin of his naked back as he moves to-.

"Are you thinking something unkind about me being girly? Not nice, Kate."

"Not exactly."

"I don't believe you."

"I was thinking that you have a nice chest." Filter destroyed. All systems are a go.

"Oh."

Ha. Take that, Castle.

He flicks his eyes down to her hands as she runs them to his ribcage and back up, coming back to straddle his heart. God. He yearns to test his date theory with a kiss. She is so close. She must be teasing him. This is a test, isn't it? He's always hated pop quizzes. "Um, I'd return the compliment if I didn't think you'd shoot me."

She chuckles, but then her breath catches. His hands have sneaked inside her coat and are on her waist, creeping up her sides sloooowly until his fingers find her gun strapped beneath her left armpit. "Can't shoot you. Too much paperwork," she manages to choke out. The fingers not dancing along her service piece have found purchase against her side, dangerously close to her breast. Between his warm digits and the misty air surrounding them, she feels her nipples pucker tightly against her blouse.

"Castle, I-"

"Certainly looks like a storm's brewing, huh Mr. Castle?" Charlie the doorman is standing in the entranceway, his back holding the heavy door open. He's staring up at the sky, apparently expecting the rain to drop down any second now, seemingly oblivious to Castle's proximity to Beckett.

Her forehead drops to his chest and he can feel her huff of amused frustration against him. "Seems so," he answers Charlie. He then brushes Kate's hair behind her ear to make space for his lips to murmur. "If you shoot him, I'll help you hide the body."

Next chapter will probably be 'M' folks. I know I'm long-winded with them. But, I love to 'hear' them talk. But, it's not always about what I want, when my aim is to entertain you all. Too much dialogue?