AN: This is the 12 percent mark! Woohoo! (Just felt like pointing out a random percentage.) Thank you all for the wonderful and encouraging enthusiasm you have shown so far; you make this so worthwhile!

This one took a ridiculous amount of time to write. But now that it's done, I would say I'm a little bit fond of it. That's at least something right? :)

#6 – Underneath It All

It hits her at the most ordinary times.

He slides into the booth next to her, his thigh grazing hers, and warm frissons travel along her skin. Sunlight is streaming through the windows of the diner, bright blinding sparkles dancing off the lacquered tabletop, jumping into his thick hair, skimming over his face. He hands her a menu, smiles at her. One of those soft ones that's just for her, with warmth in his eyes, and that shimmer of joy at simply being by her side.

And it wells up inside of her, a heated swell of effervescent pleasure, climbing through her bloodstream, barely containable, tugging at the surface of her skin to be let out, set free.

I love you.

She savors the feeling, holds it safe in her heart, a treasure. But she doesn't speak the words. Instead she smiles, reaches for the menu, allows their fingers to brush for an infinite moment, allows the zings of electricity that sparkle whenever her skin touches his.

"What are you in the mood for?" He asks when she is browsing the menu, his voice a low rumble tumbling along the rims of her ears. She thinks of lazy kisses in the park, tickled by the warm rays of the sun, of tender fingertips exploring her skin.

"Club sandwich," she says instead.

He scoots next to where she is leaning back against the edge of her desk, hands her a cup of coffee. The porcelain is warm against her palms as she cradles it within her hands, lifts it to her mouth. Milk foam tickles her upper lip and the hot liquid glides down her throat, that perfect blend of dark espresso, creamy milk, a hint of sweetness. He gets her coffee just right, every time. She smiles against the rim of the cup.

"So Martin Levers alibied out." She points toward the murder board in front of them.

They stare at the board.

"What if…" he starts, his voice and posture settling into storytelling mode. He gathers the edges of his theory, spins a tale around the characters involved, and she listens, his voice pulling her along with his thoughts. She follows the connections, thinks with him, their collaboration a well-rehearsed dance of words and ideas and intelligence and fun.

"The daughter!" They exclaim, arriving at the conclusion concurrently. She smiles, lifts her eyebrow at him in approval. His answering grin is pleased, crinkling the corners of his eyes as he looks at her. The warmth of his smile soaks into her blood, tingles through her veins, leaves her nerve endings feeling fuzzy.

I love you.

"You got something…" he points at his own upper lip. She catches herself, focuses.

"Milk beard," he winks at her.

"Oh." She runs her tongue along the rim of her lip, licks off the foam stuck to her skin.

His eyes flash. Turn to a dark bottomless blue. Her breath catches in her chest, the thump of her heartbeat loud in her ears. She stares at him, captured by his look, feels that draw, the ancient pull between them, heat and want and sizzling energy, tingling in her fingertips, weakening her knees.

A chair topples somewhere behind them and he blinks at the noise; she catches herself.

"I should…" she points at her desk. Tries to breathe.

He clears his throat. "Yeah."

She savors the bourbon against her tongue, with its charred flavor, the hints of caramel and vanilla, the rough rasp as it slides down her throat. She's been exploring different ones lately and he offers her a new find every time she is here.

Her forearm perched on the dark wooden surface, she leans her weight against the counter of the bar, folds one leg over the other. Her seat at the back offers the panorama of the length of the room, and an unobstructed view of him.

The impromptu plan of meeting for a drink has turned into a working night for him. His bartender faced with a family emergency, he has taken over serving at the bar.

Every once in a while he comes by, offers her a refill, a smile, a few bites of conversation. Mostly he is busy though, tending to his patrons, refilling their drinks while he shares words and laughs. He's good at this, his natural charm a perfect accompaniment to the dark inviting atmosphere so deeply engrained in the old wood and rough stone of this place.

But she stays anyway, alone with her thoughts, observes him while he works. He scoots tumblers along the wooden table top, the laugh lines at his eyes crinkling as he talks with the two men across the counter who receive them.

He glances over, catches her eyes. Sends her a smile from across the room, wide, lingering with deep contentment and latent pleasure, and it climbs through her again, wells up hot and bubbly inside of her, rising, flushing her cheeks.

I love you.

The bar is getting busy, groups of customers filing inside, uncommonly many for a mid-week evening. He is well-coordinated, his movements fast, but he starts looking frazzled, trying to keep up with the needs of the new arrivals and the string of orders from the waitress, simply too much for one.

She slides off her bar stool, makes her way behind the counter. He is drawing beer from the tap when she arrives by his side, and lays her palm on his shoulder.

"You take the left side, I'll handle the right," she speaks close to his ear.

He turns toward her. Their faces are close and he lifts his eyebrows at her, surprised and adoring both. She smirks, leans infinitesimally closer.

"I have many hidden talents, Richard Castle."

Then she turns with an added swing of her hair, leans over the counter, greets people, takes orders.

They work in tandem through the evening. She laughs a lot, gets a few orders wrong but mostly handles herself well, the rhythm coming back to her from her years of bartending during college. She finds she is really enjoying herself, doing something different. Having him by her side.

They move around, slide past each other within the narrow space behind the counter, her body brushing his, and every time her senses heighten a notch. He lets her pass, his face close to hers, his hand at her waist guiding her along. She tingles where his fingers touch.

She wipes the counter when the last customer has left, and then he helps her into her coat. She pulls her hair out from under the collar while he falls in step beside her, rests his hand against her lower back as they walk. Shivers crawl up her spine, dance along the back of her neck.

"Thanks for tonight, Beckett," he says, appreciation in his voice.

Her entire body is humming with awareness. Of his scent, his skin, his strong body close to hers. She wants to hook her arm in the crook of his elbow, aches to rest her cheek against his shoulder.

He holds the front door open for her and she brushes past him. "My pleasure," she smiles, a teasing lilt in her voice, and she feels the breath catch in his chest at the contact.

They stand by the curb and he faces her. "Let me call you a cab."

And suddenly the sky opens; thick heavy beads are pouring from above like buckets being dumped out on top of them. Water drenches her hair, runs down her collar immediately, and she squeals in surprise, pulls her shoulders up toward her ears to ward off the chilly wetness.

He grabs her hand, pulls her with her and they run, race toward the closest awning in front of a restaurant. She almost stumbles, bumps against his chest as he tugs her underneath the protective canopy. His arm wraps around her, holding her upright until she's found her balance.

They are soaked top to bottom, even their clothes emitting squashing sounds as they slap against each other, and it's cold, rivulets of water running down her back and into her underwear, and it bubbles through her, glee, such immense joy, that she just laughs, loud and bright, open-mouthed, happy. He joins in, holding onto her waist still, his deep laugh rumbling through his chest, and she feels his body moving with it, sliding against hers.

She smiles brightly at him when the hilarity subsides, leaving behind the simmer of happiness, of bone-deep content inside of her. Her clothes are drenched and cold but all she feels is warmth tumbling through her blood, heat emanating from where his hands rest on the sides of her waist. He is soaking wet, his hair plastered to his head; water drips from its strands, rolls down his face, drops are hanging off his eyelashes and the tip of his nose. Yet he smiles at her, tender, joyful, his eyes shimmering darkly in the dim street lighting.

Her gaze strays to his mouth, the inviting slant of his lips, the thickness of the rosy flesh that she is aching to put her teeth against. His eyes turn darker, his smile slipping to reveal a dark, desperate want painted across his face. For her.

It surges through her, hot and crazy and uncontainable.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

And she leaps forward, cradles his face within her palms. Her mouth not quite touching his, she slips out her tongue to lick the droplets of water off his upper lip, gathers them inside her mouth. He gasps at the tender strokes, the gush of breath bursting heatedly against her skin while he pulls her tightly against his body, frames his hand around the bow of her neck.

She covers his mouth with hers then, finally, finally, his lips cold against hers and she tugs them inside her warm mouth, nips, sucks, sooths her tongue along the soft skin. He groans, a deep needy rumble that she can feel pulsating in her chest, and she thrusts inside the cavern of his mouth, unites with him in long deep strokes, soaking him up, his flavor, his caresses, the shivers racing through her veins, the heat, the passion. She kisses him, long and fiery, his fingers tangled in the wet strands of her hair, his thigh wedged between her legs.

At last they calm; she softly kisses his lips once more, wipes the raindrops off his cheeks with her thumbs. Eyes hooded and dark, he gazes at her, the adoration on his face seeping right into her heart. The words are tugging at the surface of her, strong and wild and amazing and… right. She smiles at him, and sets them free.

"I love you."

End of Scene