Darling cartographical, you are the spondee to my dactyl.

Chapter 23: 2x12, A Rose For Everafter

He's all yours.

Castle hands her a glass of wine and comes to join her on the couch.

Her body is warm and sated, full from a delicious dinner. She doesn't normally do this, come home with him (play house, her traitorous mind supplies helpfully). But he looked so miserable, so kicked-puppy after Kyra walked away (for the last time) that when he asked her to come over, she couldn't bring herself to say no. His eyes had lit up at her yes, his smile genuine, and she'd told herself that the butterflies in her stomach were just adrenaline.

(Adrenaline from what, Kate? Come on. At least convince yourself.)

She watches him hesitantly over the rim of her glass. Kyra's words are dancing through her mind. Not that she'd say it – not that she's admitting it – but seeing the surveillance photos did something to her. Seeing the two of them…his lips…even thinking about it now sends a hot shiver of something through her.

(Maybe this is a bad idea.)

He's looking good this evening. Really, really good. He always dresses well. She's not blind; the man looks good in a sport coat. But it's the way he looks now – another button undone at the top of his shirt, his sleeves rolled up, baring his strong forearms – that she's finding even more appealing. She likes this masculine side of him, the way his muscles ripple in his arms, the flex of his hands. He has big hands.

Not that she's noticing it, of course.

Normally she doesn't let herself just stare at him. But now she can't look away.

He sits a respectable distance from her (she's relieved, isn't she?) and she clears her throat, toying with the stem of her wineglass. "What are we drinking to?"

"You want me to make a toast?"

"Well, you are the literary one in this relationship." Damn it. She could bite her tongue the minute she says it. She meant to say partnership (didn't she?), not taunt him with a word that has connotations far beyond its simple meaning.

He twitches an eyebrow at her – of course he caught her word choice – but lets it go. "Well then. Here's to love."

She rolls her eyes but clinks her glass with his. "Of all the fancy toasts in the world, you come up with 'to love?' Castle. I at least expected a haiku."

"Less is more, Detective." He grins. He needs to stop doing that. "Why? You uncomfortable talking about love?"

Her face is getting warm - surely it's just the wine - but she holds his gaze, refuses to back down. "No. Just didn't realize you would leap right to it."

It is making her uncomfortable. But damned if she's going to give him the satisfaction.

"Love is the bread and butter of artists and writers, Beckett. People don't skip over romantic scenes to get back to the plot."

Kate is absolutely not going to tell him that he's right and that she does quite the opposite when she re-reads his books.

"But it doesn't always end happily," she points out. "Especially in real life."

He blinks, then seems to get it. "Kyra."

She wasn't going to aim straight for that, but she was thinking it. "It's an example. You were in love with her."

He shrugs. "Maybe I was then. But it was a long time ago. We were different people. She's found the right guy now. I think they'll be happy together."

"She's a good person."

He's all yours.

He gives her a half smile. "Yeah."

Kate really, really doesn't want to talk more about Kyra. She doesn't think he needs to drag himself back through what was apparently a rough breakup.

She's trying to think of something else to say, some other topic that doesn't sound like a complete non sequitur, when he speaks again. "What is it about some women? They don't try, not at all, but they're irresistible."

Kate shifts a little uncomfortably. She has photographic evidence of just how irresistible he found Kyra Blaine.

"And of course there's you, Detective."

She smiles wryly, props her head on her hand. "Not every woman launches a thousand ships, Castle."

"Oh, don't be modest. You're a heartbreaker."

She lets out a breath. "Right." Yeah. Sure. Such a catch. Doesn't quite square up with the reality of her (total lack of a) social life.

"All you gorgeous brunettes. You just walk all over me." He doesn't seem to realize he just grouped her with the woman he spent a fair amount of time pathetically in love with.

"Castle – "

"Oh, come on," he scoffs. "Look at you. You're stunning. You've probably broken dozens of hearts."

"Hardly." She flushes, looks away. This is different. He's not usually this frank about how he feels.

"Sure you have," he sighs dramatically, taking another sip and setting his wineglass aside. "You weren't even trying. You can just bat your eyes and bite your lip and whisper hot things into his ear and walk away like you're not even interested. It's lethal."

Her cheeks get hot, and she doesn't know what to say. Because she remembers every second of that, every look, every word. And she did it on purpose. God, she did it on purpose. It was such a sense of power, leaning into his space, feeling his breath on her cheek and the fierce thrumming desire pulsing through his body. She teased him. She knew exactly what he wanted and she dangled it in front of him. Then she strutted away because she wanted him to watch her. She wanted him to drool.

And apparently it worked.

She's fixed on his mouth – she's been stuck there for so long while he talked – and then she drags her eyes up to find him staring at her. Staring. His gaze is dark, penetrating, heated with a desperation she's never seen on him, with something serious and longing and so powerful she can't breathe for a moment.

His throat bobs as he swallows unevenly. "Kate. I think I'm going to kiss you now."

Her throat closes up. She's not sure what to say. (Okay?)

He's all yours.

His mouth is on hers before she realizes what's happening.

He tastes of wine and the chocolate ice cream he convinced her to eat for dessert and him and her head spins and it's perfect. And then his tongue slips into her mouth and her mind goes blissfully blank.

Castle kisses her languidly, his hand sliding over her shoulder, cupping the back of her neck, angling her mouth to give him better access. She's warm and mellow from the dinner and wine and the closeness and his touch and she lets him in, opens her lips to him, lets his tongue curl over hers, reaches her arms around his neck.

She can feel him smiling against her lips, and then he's pulling her closer, getting more aggressive, and she lets him, leaning into his body. He tugs her onto his lap and then his hands start wandering, tracing light circles on her back, slipping lower as he devours her mouth.

His hands slide under her shirt and she gasps, arches involuntarily as his nimble fingers drag over her skin. He hits just the right spot just as he catches her lower lip between his teeth and she can't help the moan that escapes. Her hips sink into his and he lets out a guttural groan that vibrates in her mouth as he pulls her closer, crushing her to his chest as his hands slip under –

"Oh! Well. Don't mind me, kids, I'll just be on my way."

Kate gasps, pulls away, scrambles off his lap, face burning as she tugs her shirt back down and slaps away Castle's wandering hands. His mother – they just got caught by his mother, right as she let him put his hands – and his tongue was –

Shit.

Martha's already out the front door (she was here this whole time? – they didn't even hear her on the stairs, damn it) but Kate's still spooked, and though he tries to pull her back into his lap, she doesn't let him. "Castle, stop it – "

"What?"

"That was your mother," she hisses.

He shrugs. "My house. My couch. What's the problem?"

Kate groans and drops her head in her hands. "God, this is embarrassing."

"Relax. It could have been worse. It wasn't Alexis."

Like that makes it better? She sighs, because he's right, but the moment's broken.

"Kate. Could you please stop looking like you feel nauseated?"

She looks up to find Castle watching her with a slightly uneasy expression.

"What?"

"I'd like to think kissing me isn't the worst experience you've ever had." Apparently he took her embarrassment for distaste.

She lets out a short laugh. "It's not that. I just – "

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't know she was home."

Kate shakes her head. At least Martha didn't seem bothered. "I should – "

He cuts her off with a kiss before she can say go, pressing her back into the cushions before she finally manages to push him away. "Castle. It's late."

"Not that late."

"I have – stop it. I have to – oh – work tomorrow."

"Call in sick."

"I ca- Castle, stop it." She pulls his hands out from under her shirt and fixes him with a (somewhat ineffectual) glare. "You are such a child."

"Oh, I'm all man, Kate. And I fully intend to prove it to you."

She flushes hotly. "I'm going home. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Of course."

They make it to the front door. It's a long time before she finally manages to get it open.

She steps into the elevator, and he takes a last look before the doors close. The normally-put-together detective is flustered, her shirt ridden up, face flushed, lips swollen and pink, eyes bright, hair a mess.

She's gorgeous.

He's in fine form the next morning, whistling The Raiders' March as he putters cheerfully in the kitchen. Alexis appears, stifling a yawn.

"Good morning, my child. Breakfast?"

"Morning, Dad." Alexis watches as he busies himself scooping eggs onto a plate for her. "So Gram caught you and Detective Beckett making out last night."

The spatula clatters to the counter before he can catch it. "Uh. Your grandmother has a way with words, doesn't she?"

"Yeah." She grimaces. "I really didn't want to hear details."

He coughs a little. Recovers. Tentatively sips juice. "Are you okay with this, sweetheart? I know you know Kate and all, and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable about it."

She props her chin on one hand. "You really like her, don't you?"

"Yeah. I do."

Alexis smiles. "I like her too. She's nice. And she keeps you in line. Just keep it appropriate around me and we're fine."

"Deal." He tips his orange juice, clinks her glass. "To life?"

Alexis wrinkles her nose. "No. To it being Gram who caught you, not me. Ewww."